#shout out to the commenter who hit my inbox today

[forzalando]

Seeing Someone

Lando Norris x friend!reader (female reader)

summary: Lando is finally ready to tell you how he feels when he overhears you say that you've started seeing someone - but overheard conversations aren't always what they seem. wc: 5.5k author's note: a few disclaimers: 1. let's all pretend that everyone has to spend a few weeks at MTC before the start of the season and they commute to/from London. 2. therapy and mental health help are so important - i purposefully left some things vague because people go to therapy for a variety of reasons and it should be normalized! i also didn't want things to get too heavy or potentially upset anyone by choosing to elaborate on something they relate to/hits a little too close to home. 3. this was inspired by a post i saw on my dash that said "when you said you were seeing someone i was hoping you meant a therapist". this originally started out more light-hearted, but the angst came out and i couldn't stop. feeling a little insecure about this one - thoughts and feelings in the comments/reblogs/my inbox would be so cherished and appreciated :) once again, special shoutout to @sof1shticated for being my beta reader. couldn't do this without you, Mel! warnings: mentions of reader going to therapy, mentions of reader drinking, a few curse words (i think), and angst! but there is a happy ending (even if it's a little open-ended)

Lando had searched the entirety of McLaren HQ at this point and started to worry – you were quite literally nowhere to be found. Usually, this wouldn’t phase him, since you were notorious for getting distracted or caught up in conversation with everyone you came across. You especially found ways to delay leaving MTC when you had to be there physically – the commute from HQ back to London each day was objectively the worst part of everyone coming together in the weeks leading up to each new season.

Today, however, the two of you had plans to get dinner at your favorite restaurant in London and you would never miss a chance to devour your favorite scallop risotto, cheese garlic bread, several glasses of wine, and a heaping mound of tiramisu for dessert.

He stopped speed-walking abruptly when he saw a familiar head of brown hair out of the corner of his eye.

“OSCAR,” Lando shouted, his speed-walk turning into a run. “Oscar, have you seen Y/N? She told me to meet at her office at 5:00pm but it’s 5:30pm and she is literally missing. She better have a good excuse, I hate being late.”

“Missing? Are you sure she’s not just caught up in a meeting? I saw her heading to Zak’s office around 4:45pm, did you check there?”

“Zak’s office, of course! The one place I didn’t check. Thanks, Osc, you’re the man.”

Oscar rolled his eyes – “Anytime, Lan. What are you running late for? Hot date?”

Lando didn’t miss the wiggle of Oscar’s eyebrows and slight smirk. It wasn’t a secret to the Australian that Lando had a crush on Y/N – although Lando had never confirmed or denied it, it was pretty obvious to anyone who spent more than 30 seconds around them.

“Ah, something like that,” Lando said nonchalantly, a bashful blush making its way to his cheeks.

“Good luck, mate!” Oscar threw a wave over his shoulder as he heard the retreating sound of Lando’s trainers smacking against the floor.

In truth, although you and Lando were just friends and Lando was terrified he may ruin that, he had plans to tell you about his feelings for you that night at dinner. It had been almost a year since you started working for McLaren, and almost a year of Lando pining after you in secret. He spent most days trying to convince himself he was content just being your friend, but he was determined to make 2024 his year. His first win, hopefully of many, maybe even WDC contender material, and finally plucking up the courage to be honest with you.

As Lando hurriedly approached Zak’s office, he could see that the door was slightly ajar and heard your voice trailing through the opening.

“I really appreciate you taking the time to talk to me, Zak. And a massive thank you for approving the time off on such late notice.”

“Anytime, Y/N, you know you’re like family to me and everyone here. You sure you’re ok?”

“Yes, I’m seeing someone. It’s still new so I’m not set on him yet but I have a really good feeling about it, I’m really starting to wish I had called him sooner. He actually suggested the days off, I’m seeing him on Tuesday and hopefully things continue to go well.”

Lando’s heart dropped to his stomach – all week he had been thinking about tonight. How to tell you, how you might react, how nervous he was, and each day he grew even more anxious. He was panicking – what was he supposed to do? How could he sit across from you all night knowing that he’d missed his chance?

“That’s so good to hear,” Zak said earnestly. “Keep me updated and enjoy your days off.”

Lando could hear chairs scraping and scrambled to leave the scene before you walked out of Zak’s office to find him eavesdropping. He got about 50 feet down the hallway before he heard your voice from behind.

“Lan,” you shouted. “I’m so sorry, I’m totally late but I had to meet with Zak about something and his last meeting went way over.”

You jogged a little to catch up to him – a bright smile on your face that made his heart rate skyrocket and his palms grow sweaty. He couldn’t see you feeling like this. Not tonight, not when he could barely keep himself from telling you that he would be a much better boyfriend than whoever you were dating.

“We still on for dinner? I grabbed everything I needed from my office before I met with Zak so if we leave right this second and ignore the speed limit, they may seat us,” you bumped his shoulder as you joked.

Unable to help himself, only thinking about how hurt he was even though you’d done nothing wrong, Lando blurted out an excuse. “Actually, I was trying to find you to tell you I can’t make it.”

He tried not to react when he saw your face fall a little, but he told himself it was because you were disappointed about the last-minute change in plans and not that he wasn’t going.

“You should still go though,” he offered quickly. “I’m sure you have someone you could take with you!”

Your eyes spotted Oscar across the hallway and you smiled slightly – it had been a while since you had spent time with him and you knew he was having a rough week.

“Yeah, I have someone in mind,” you mused, focusing your eyes back on Lando. “Is everything ok? Are you not feeling well?”

“No, I’m fine, I just forgot I have plans.”

“Well, we had plans. You scheduled over me?”

“It’s a last-minute thing. Date thing. Last-minute date thing.”

“Oh,” you gasped. “Oh, that’s great!” You plastered a fake smile on your face – hoping that he was just as oblivious now as he apparently is to your feelings. “I hope you have a great time, she’s a lucky girl! I’ll see you on Wednesday, I’m taking a couple days off!”

Before he had a chance to say anything else, you sped off in search of Oscar to bribe him to accompany you to dinner. While you set off across the room, Lando smacked himself in the forehead and groaned.

“Why did you tell her it was a date, you idiot,” he mumbled to himself. Now, it was his turn to speed walk through McLaren HQ, but if he had turned around just for a moment, he would have caught you stopped in your tracks staring at him longingly as he walked away.

You shook your head and sighed, continuing your quest to find the younger McLaren driver and rope him into an evening filled with good food and, if you were being honest with yourself, probably a few tears.

A few moments later, you spotted floppy brown hair bouncing as Oscar walked toward the employee parking lot.

“Oscar!” You yelled after him, increasing your pace to catch up to him.

“Hey,” he said, confusion evident on his face, “I thought you were going out with Lando?”

“He’s got a date,” you blurted. “He has a date and he canceled on me and it’s fine. I am fine. But I want my scallop risotto and tiramisu so you’re coming with me.”

“Sure, Y/N, lead the way.”

Oscar was, to put it extremely lightly, confused. Lando was completely enamored by you – anyone with eyes could see it. Oscar was wholly convinced that Lando was going to officially ask you out at dinner tonight, especially after the brief conversation they had while you were late to meet up with him.

Yet, here he was, sat across from you in a dimly lit room as you sipped on your third glass of wine and, with all the subtlety of a neon sign, wiped a tear from your lower lash line.

“It’s not that I’m not happy for him, I’m so happy for him. But canceling last minute is a dick move, right? It’s a dick move. I know I’m just his friend, sometimes I feel like just a colleague, but I’m not being dramatic, right?”

Oscar stared at you blankly – his eyes wide and a look of pure fear on his face. He considered himself good at most things, great at quite a few, but comforting a crying woman was bottom of the list of Oscar Piastri’s skills.

“It’s totally a dick move,” he nodded his head eagerly in agreement. “I just don’t get it – when I saw him earlier he was frantic trying to find you. I think he’d scoured the entirety of MTC, he was out of breath when I found him.”

“Well, at least he had the decency to find me and tell me in person that he planned on ditching me.”

“Yeah, but that’s just it, it didn’t seem like he was trying to find you to tell you that. He complained about being late and when I asked him if he had a hot date, he blushed.”

“He is literally on a hot date.”

“Ok, well, when I asked him I meant did he have a hot date specifically with you.”

You scoffed and set your glass down – as much as you loved Oscar and you knew he’d never judge you, if you had any more wine you’d end up sobbing and not just wiping stray tears away.

“As if! Lando has never once made a move on me even though I flirt, or at least try to flirt, with him any chance I get.”

“You flirt with Lando?”

“I made him a personalized Spotify playlist, had Stroopwafels overnighted to him from The Netherlands after Vegas, bought him a sweater for his birthday with a card that said ‘to match your eyes’, and I compliment him every time I see him.”

“That’s your idea of flirting?”

“Well, yes.”

“Y/N, that’s just being nice to people. You’re nice to everyone. Lando is not going to understand that you’re a little extra nice to him and that means you’re trying to woo him.”

You huffed and slumped in your seat, crossing your arms over your chest. “Ok, well, how would you flirt with Lando?”

“Did you seriously just ask me that question?”

“Yes because apparently you know all about flirting! And by the way, Logan thought I was coming onto him when I was just being nice so some people would consider my actions flirtatious.”

“That doesn’t count, Logan thinks Uber drivers are flirting with him when they say ‘have a nice day’.”

You and Oscar shared a laugh at the mention of your mutual friend – somehow an even more hopeless case than you in the world of romance.

Your laughs turned to giggles and eventually died down completely. A sigh climbed its way out of your throat, the sudden change in your mood evident to Oscar.

“It doesn’t matter anyway – he’s seeing someone so no more trying, and according to you failing, to flirt.”

“You don’t know how serious it is, maybe this was a first date and it’ll go horribly. He definitely doesn’t have a girlfriend if that’s what you’re worried about, he was just saying the other day that Lily and I make him feel painfully single. We can ask him about it on Monday!”

You frowned a bit and tried to recover, but Oscar noticed the way your face fell slightly. “I’m actually taking a few days off, I need some personal time. I won’t be back at MTC until Wednesday.”

“Is everything ok? You don’t have to tell me but if you need anything, you know I’m there for you, right?”

You smiled at Oscar – it was a rare thing to find such great friends in the people you worked with, but you got so incredibly lucky with the McLaren team, especially Lando and Oscar. “I know that, Osc. You’re a gem.”

With a nod of understanding, Oscar changed the subject to something more pleasant, and you enjoyed the rest of your evening with your friend.

When Wednesday morning rolled around, you felt like your stomach might explode from nerves. You had resisted texting Lando over the past few days to ask about his date, you didn’t want to seem too eager and hoped it would come up naturally in conversation during the day. You hadn’t talked to Oscar much, though he’d texted you a few times to check in, but you wondered if he had talked to Lando at all and if he had details on how well Lando’s date went.

You arrived at MTC fairly early, hoping to get a head start on your day. Winter break was nearly over, and you were swamped with finalizing everything for the start of the 2024 season. It wasn’t until lunch that you saw Lando at all and he just so happened to be waiting in your office, sitting comfortably in your chair, while you were walking back from your latest meeting.

“Lando! What are you doing here?”

“I, uh,” he scrambled. “I was just…I don’t know really. I guess I wanted to see you, we haven’t talked in a few days since you’ve been out.”

“Well, we’ve both been busy. You could’ve texted me. How was your date?”

“It was good. Great. How about yours?”

You smiled remembering your evening with Oscar, assuming he had told Lando at some point that he had accompanied you. “Honestly so fun, we had the best time. I hope we get to do it again soon.”

Lando cringed – jealousy rearing its ugly head as he looked down at his feet before answering. “Same, I’ll probably go out with her again this weekend.”

“Good for you,” you gritted. “I’m glad you had fun. I actually have a million things to do so if there’s nothing important…”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. Just wanted to see you. I guess we’ll catch up soon? Hope you enjoyed your days off.”

Mustering up a fake smile, you told him definitely, awkwardly standing as he rose from your desk and left your office. As soon as he was far enough away that he couldn’t hear you, you groaned. The tension between you and Lando was unbearable, though you didn’t understand why it seemed to mostly be coming from him. Before you had a chance to think any further, you could hear your phone buzzing from inside your bag and begrudgingly pulled it out to see a text from Oscar.

did you go on a date over the weekend?

no? why are you asking me that?

well then why did lando just sit across from me and say ‘did Y/N tell you anything about her date?’

he was just in my office, I asked him how his date went and he asked about ‘mine’. i assumed he was talking about Friday and that you told him i brought you?

i never told him, i guess he thought you brought a real date?

You paused before responding to Oscar, confusion evident on your face and in your lack of response. Before you could type out a reply, two more texts came in.

ok something is up because i just told him that i went with you on friday and he said “i know, i saw you in her insta story in the reflection of a wine glass, i’m talking about yesterday”

insane that he looked close enough to see me in your wine glass but not the point

i literally haven’t been on a date in two years

let me figure this out

You slid your phone back into your bag and pulled out your laptop – your Lando problems would have to wait until you were at least somewhat caught up after missing two days so close to the start of the season.

Meanwhile, at a conference room table in MTC, Oscar was confused. Which, as of late, was a common occurrence when it came to you and Lando.

“Mate,” Oscar addressed Lando, “if you’re not talking about Friday, what date did you ask Y/N about? She hasn’t been on a date in forever.”

“Well then he must have canceled on her because she was supposed to have plans yesterday, it’s why she took days off.”

“I don’t know the exact reason why she took days off but she told me on Friday that she was and didn’t seem too happy about it. Said it was personal reasons.”

“Going on a date is personal.”

“Not ‘take two days off of work’ personal! Where are you even getting this information?”

Lando looked away sheepishly, afraid to admit to Oscar that he had eavesdropped on a private conversation between you and Zak. With Oscar looking at him expectantly, and a bit like a pissed-off Mum, he blurted it out.

“I heard her talking to Zak! Last week on Friday, when I was looking for her, she was in his office and the door was cracked. She had asked him for a couple days off and talked about how she recently started seeing someone and was seeing him again on Tuesday aka yesterday.”

Now Oscar was really confused. You had cried over Lando publicly on Friday, and he knew you fairly well, which meant there was no way you would be crying over Lando and going out with someone else four days later.

“I think you need to just talk to her because I promise you, she is not seeing someone. Also, what do you care? You ditched her for a date on Friday.”

Oscar had a sinking feeling in his stomach as he watched Lando’s face fall.

“Lando, tell me you didn’t.”

“I might have.”

“Jesus, Lando, you heard 30 seconds of a conversation and decided to lie to her? Because what, your ego took a blow? Some caveman instinct?”

“No, I don’t know, honestly. It just slipped out! I had planned to ask her out for real and when I heard her say ‘I’m seeing someone’, I just didn’t know how to be around her. I couldn’t be around her that night.”

“You need to go talk to her. Apologize. Preferably, immediately.”

Lando jumped up from his seat and sighed. “You’re right. She might kill me, and she has every right to, but I have to talk to her and apologize to her. Wish me luck!”

Before Oscar could do what Lando had asked, Lando raced off towards your office, barely stopping himself from tripping over his own two feet.

Across MTC, you had just settled your mind and gotten into a groove of catching up on emails and making progress on deadlines. As soon as you thought to yourself that the day was going better than expected, your office door flung open and Lando Norris was standing stiff in your doorway.

“Lan, I told you that I’m busy. What is going on?” Annoyance was evident in your voice and Lando cringed knowing that this conversation was probably not going to be very pleasant.

“Why did you take time off?”

Your body straightened in shock, of all the things he could have asked you after bombarding you in your office, you wouldn’t have guessed he would pry into your personal life.

“That’s none of your business, Lando. If you were worried about me, you could have reached out, but I haven’t heard from you since you ditched me on Friday.”

Lando could see the hurt on your face, he could see it evident in your body language. He thought back to how you had looked upset immediately when he told you on Friday that he couldn’t go with you – when he told himself it had nothing to do with you wanting to spend time with him.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I’m sorry for that, it wasn’t – I mean I didn’t, I didn’t want to not go. I just didn’t know what to do.”

“Ok, I’m totally lost. You didn’t know what to do about what, Lando?”

He steeled himself for your reaction – something he had learned by being your friend for the past year was that you held trust and truth in high regard. You didn’t like being lied to, and you didn’t like people trying to dig into your life or get information you weren’t willing to share.

“I heard you in Zak’s office. I wasn’t eavesdropping on purpose, I swear, I was looking for you because you were late meeting me. Oscar told me you might be with Zak so I went there and the door was open. And I heard you. So I lied and told you that I couldn’t go to dinner, I don’t know why I said I had a date. All I could focus on was how hurt I was, I just couldn’t be around you and then I felt so stupid and terrible for lying so that’s why I didn’t text you at all.”

You were completely and utterly perplexed – you couldn’t even react with anger at the thought of Lando listening to a private conversation and outright lying to you. What could he have overheard that he was so upset about?

“Lando, I’m still confused. What did you hear? How did I hurt you?”

“No, no, you didn’t hurt me. You have no idea how I feel about you – I was going to tell you that night.” Lando was word-vomiting at this point, he never wanted you to find out this way but he couldn’t stop rambling. “I have had feelings for you for so long, and I finally decided that I was going to tell you even if I was convinced you don’t feel the same. And now I know you don’t because you’re seeing someone and – ”

You interrupted him sternly, allowing the anger you were feeling to come forth and shoving down your confusion. “I’m not dating anyone? Is that why you asked Oscar about my ‘date’? Where did you get that idea?”

“You told Zak that you’re seeing someone and that it’s new but things are going good. I heard you say you were seeing him again on Tuesday.”

Your eyes doubled in size – if you weren’t so pissed off, you might have found humor in this, but you felt heat rising to your cheeks and your stomach churned at the thought of divulging your personal struggles.

“Lando, I’m seeing a therapist,” you hissed.

He froze for a moment, then scrambled to shut your door which was still ajar from him barging in.

“A therapist? Are you okay? What’s going on, why didn’t you tell me that you’ve been struggling?”

“No, no, you don’t get to do this right now. You don’t get to make me less angry by being kind and caring.”

“I’m not doing it to make you less angry, Y/N, I genuinely – ”

“I don’t care, Lando! You eavesdropped on my private conversation, misunderstood the context of that conversation, and then you lied to me. You hurt me. And now, because you got your feelings hurt and did things you shouldn’t have done, I have to share something I wasn’t comfortable sharing with you just yet.”

Lando was speechless – you could see the remorse on his face, the tears threatening to spill from his eyes, but in that moment you wanted him to feel even worse than you were.

“And you want to know the worst part,” you cried. “I feel the same way about you. I cried to Oscar at dinner because I thought you were with someone else, that you would have rather been at dinner with a different girl.”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. Can we please just go somewhere and talk? Really talk this out? I know I messed up, but this doesn’t have to change things or how we feel about each other.”

You wanted to, god, did you want to – you knew Lando hadn’t done any of this on purpose. You knew he didn’t have malicious intent and you knew how hurt he probably felt at the idea of you being with someone – it was exactly the way you felt when you thought the same about him.

“I think you should go, Lan”. Despite every part of you wanting to sit and talk, you knew that you needed some time to settle down.

“Ok,” he whispered. “When you’re ready,” he paused, swallowing the lump in his throat, “if you’re ever ready, you know where to find me.”

His posture made you feel sick as he left your office – Lando was always confident, shoulders back and head held high, but as you watched him through the glass walls surrounding you, he was hunched over. Dejected. You’d only ever seen him that way a few times – after he was torn apart by the media or after making a mistake during a race.

It hurt you to see him that way. But, he had also hurt you, and you needed time.

It had been two weeks since “the incident” with Lando – that’s what Oscar started calling it and it stuck. Fight felt too strong, disagreement felt too weak, so it became something nameless. Undefined. Indeterminate. Exactly like what existed now between you and Lando.

Oscar and Lando were set to leave for Sakhir in a week and you wouldn’t see them again until you joined the team for the Australian GP. If you didn’t work things out with Lando before they left for testing, it would be well over a month without a resolution.

The thought made your eyes burn with tears – you were still upset but more than that you missed Lando. You didn’t even have to wonder if he felt the same because you’d seen him around MTC. He looked just as awful as you, if not worse, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to start a conversation.

You began packing up your things to leave the office, grateful beyond belief that it was a Friday and you’d have two days without seeing Lando’s familiar curls everywhere you turned. At least at home, you would only see them behind closed eyes and wouldn’t have to blink back tears.

A knock at your door startled you, but you assumed it was your team lead looking for your latest analytics report. At least there was one thing you could be happy about – the car data was phenomenal and all signs were pointing to an amazing season for McLaren.

You told whoever was knocking to come in, not looking up from your bag as you rifled through your files. “So sorry, Tom, I meant to bring this to you earlier but I – ”

A throat clearing cut you off, and you looked up to see Lando standing in your doorway with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and one of those cheesy “I’m sorry” balloons in his left hand. You almost giggled, but then you looked at his face and your heart dropped. Dark circles under red-rimmed eyes - he looked awful. 

“I know you said you’d reach out when you’re ready to talk, and I wanted to respect that and give you all the space you need. But, we’re both miserable. At least I think you’re miserable, I know I am. I miss you terribly. I miss my friend. And if that’s all you’ll ever be to me, I can respect that and I will cherish it because the past week has been the worst week of my life.”

“Lando, I – ”

“Please, please let me get all of this out. Please let me apologize.”

You smiled slightly, nodding your head for him to continue.

“I’m sorry for invading your privacy. It wasn’t on purpose but I should have left as soon as I heard you talking because I know how important trust is to you. I violated yours and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for lying to you. It doesn’t matter if I was hurt, I could’ve just said I wasn’t feeling well or asked you about what I overheard immediately. After apologizing for overhearing, of course. I’m sorry that it took Oscar talking sense into me for me to come to you in the first place. I’m sorry that I hurt you and I’m sorry that I behaved like a child instead of talking to you about my feelings. My actions made you feel forced to tell me something personal that you weren’t ready to share. I’m so sorry, and I hope you know that I’m here for you always.”

He let out a deep breath and you watched his shoulders relax slightly for the first time in two weeks. You knew he was sorry – you’d known how sorry he was immediately when he started explaining and apologizing the first time around, but you just weren’t ready to hear it yet.

“Thank you, Lan,” you whispered as you walked towards him and took his free hand in your own. “I know you’re sorry and I know that this was all a misunderstanding that just got out of hand.”

“I am also sorry for springing my feelings on you. I wanted to tell you properly, ask you out properly, but I couldn’t explain myself without telling you. I ruined everything, it was woefully unromantic.”

“Yeah, that was a bit shit, I didn’t get my big grand gesture or anything.”

Lando’s eyes grew wide, a hopeful gleam in them. “I mean, would you – is that something you would still want? I don’t want to pressure you and I don’t want to assume that you still feel the same.”

“I do,” you said softly. “But, I think we should work on really moving past this before we officially jump into anything more.”

“I completely agree. However, I do have a reservation for two in about forty minutes to make up for ditching you, if you’d like to join me? Otherwise, I’ll have to bring Oscar. He won’t stop talking about the cheese garlic bread.”

“No, Lando, you don’t understand. He ordered three baskets. I went home and typed an apology email to Zak for ruining his diet.”

You both erupted in giggles, leaning into each other for support and out of habit. It felt so good to laugh, the weight and stress of the past two weeks rolling off in waves as Lando’s shoulder bumped yours and you heard the unmistakable laughter that you’d come to love so much.

“Maybe we should bring him anyway,” you pondered. “He’s been an exceptionally good friend to us both the past couple of weeks.”

“He can come next time, I’d like you to myself for the evening. If that’s ok?”

“More than ok, Lan. I’ve really missed you.”

He leaned in quickly, kissing your cheek gently and then nuzzling his nose against your neck, inhaling the scent of the perfume he’d gifted you for your last birthday. “Not as much as I’ve missed you,” he objected, his eyes glimmering slightly. Wet eyelashes fluttered against your neck as he stayed tucked into your side for a few more moments.

“We’re going to be late,” you whispered, with a sincere lack of urgency.

“Can we go back to my hotel room instead? Watch a movie and order in? Jus’ wanna hold you.”

Your heart constricted – as much as you wanted to tease him and say he owed you a night out and your favorite meal, you wanted nothing more than to spend the night in Lando’s arms.

“Of course, Lan. I think I need that too.”

On the way to Lando’s car, you passed Oscar who gave you both a knowing smile and a short wave. If you asked him if he had been waiting for you guys to leave, he would deny it. He would deny being so invested in your reconciliation that he waited close to an hour after he could leave for the day to make sure you were both ok. He would also deny that he tracked both of you and when it dawned on him that you were skipping your dinner, he sped to that little Italian place and stole your reservation for an order (or two) of cheese garlic bread.

He couldn’t resist sending a poorly taken picture to the group chat with the three of you and you burst out laughing when you opened it.

“Lan, Oscar somehow stole our dinner res,” you giggled, turning your phone to show Lando an unmistakable basket of bread and a follow-up text with several heart emojis.

Lando held his phone up to snap a quick selfie of you two cuddled up in bed, him leaning in for the second time that evening to place a gentle kiss on your cheek. Almost immediately after it delivered, your phones lit up with another text from Oscar.

HOT DATE FR THIS TIME?

You and Lando looked at each other and smiled, the mutual understanding of where you stood with your feelings evident.

not quite yet, but soon :)

[forbidden-sunlight]

yandere! literary agent with fem!reader scenario [part two]

warnings: implication of obsessive thoughts or love.

There might be potential triggers in this story. If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the 'back' button on your mobile device or computer and read something much more pleasant.

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Hey guys, welcome back to the second installment of this scenario, featuring Yulian Prescott. I'd like to give a big shout-out to my dear friend @deathmetalunicorn1 who helped me write this finale.

As always, bullying on here will not be tolerated. If it does happen, this series will be taken down.

With that being said, sit back, relax, and let's dive back into the cutthroat world of publishing.

Part One

The press conference went as expected. 

Everyone wanted to know who accused best-selling author Abigail Crowley of plagiarism, where is the evidence to prove that an unidentified individual is the one who really wrote The Darkness and The Nightingale, and why are the representatives of the publishing company are now just finding out about it less than a month before its release date. Yandere!Literary Agent is good at his job, at least when it comes to standing in front of flashing cameras and phones shoved in his face, asking for a statement. He answered the journalists who patiently raised their hands and disregarded the ones who kept interrupting with asinine questions that had nothing to do with the subject of the press conference whatsoever. Yes, he had been contacted by the true writer. No, he will not give out a name to respect their privacy. Yes, there is evidence and it will be presented to a judge, should Abigail Crowley wishes to take Sailboat Publishing House to court and fight back against the claims. No, the printing date will not be changed. He is currently with the writer on revisions and he will not take any more questions at this time. Please speak to the company’s PR representative, Ms. Isley, for a formal interview. That is it for today. 

The world now knows the truth. Social media was going to be a proverbial shitstorm; one side will defend Abigail Crowley and say she is the true author as she is still a great writer, and there will be people who speak trash to her out of spite for whatever reason. Some will even try to track you down online and harass you for days on end. Yandere!Literary Agent just hoped that you meant what you said about not being online anymore because of politics. 

In any case, the projected million copies to be sold would have to decrease significantly. You told him over the phone that you didn’t mind, commenting that at least 100,000 should be a tidy enough number and he would still get his commission. He didn't have to worry about the fees since Abigail is going to pay for those, or fight back. That was the ultimatum Yandere!Literary Agent and the board members gave it to her almost a week ago. 

It was six-thirty in the evening when he told you about what had happened. He was still in the office finishing up a few things, and he had you on speaker mode while he typed away at his desk. You were typing too, working on the revisions and thanking the universe that you had a digital copy of your manuscript on file too, so the task he had given you made things a little easier. So did taking two weeks off of work. But the way you saw it, the PTO either had to be used now, or it wouldn’t be rolled over because you had too much PTO. Yes, that can definitely happen in your career field because you need the hours to pay for bills and essentially being alive. You were making good progress and hoped that you didn’t need to pull another all-nighter just to finish up these edits on page 159. 

You were diligent, Yandere!Literary Agent will give you that much. He reminded you of the deadline. You told him to focus on his work, and he’ll have a pristine manuscript in his inbox. Please stop the daily phone calls and text messages, he was putting the pressure on you. This is why you did not want to become an author. 

He contacted you on Friday night about the press conference. The following week, an email titled The Darkness and the Nightingale - final edits popped up as soon he opened his computer on Thursday morning. 

It’s done. Contact me only if there are edits that must absolutely be changed. Going to sleep. Night. 

[First Name]

The manuscript had been sent to him at three o’clock in the morning. You had really cut it close but it was here. The story was finished. He quickly opened up the document. He looked over the edits, compared it to what was written before….and nodded in affirmation. Yes. Yandere!Literary Agent thought as he looked over the words, your words, with a small smile, leaning back against his leather chair. This is a story that will sell. 

Yandere!Literary Agent placed the manuscript on a flash drive, arranged a meeting with the printing companies and sent you three options for the cover art and needed a response as soon as you were able to. All in all, everything had turned out. A week before the release date arrived, The Darkness and The Nightingale were loaded into trucks to be sold in bookstores across the  country.  

One task done. Now to move onto the next project. 

He deleted your contact info. He had no reason to keep it, at least on his phone. Email was enough. Sure enough, another client sent him a pitch for a new trilogy that would act as the prequel to the original ones that were already popular with young adults, and Yandere!Literary Agent dove head first into it. He hadn’t realized that a month had passed since The Darkness and The Nightingale had been published. This is what usually happens when he concentrates solely on one client. A bad habit, yes, but as he has mentioned beforehand, he is good at his job. 

No news yet in regards to Abigail Crowley, the plagiarism issue was dying down in favor of a startlet’s drug overdose, and there was a meeting on Monday to discuss sales. Another win-win for Yulian Prescott, the man who had single-handedly saved the company from going under. But on Friday afternoon, Yandere!Literary Agent received an email from the printing companies and PR department, concerning the sales of your book. Flummoxed, and a little worried that the number of copies unsold outweighed what was printed, he opened the email. 

He blinked. And then blinked again before removing his glasses, giving them a good cleaning and placing them back onto his face. He re-read the email again, his eyes growing wider and wider. This wasn’t about copies that weren’t sold….it was a request from five hundred different printing companies to print your book. The demand wasn’t isolated to the States. There were demands from all over the world! 

Unlocking his phone, he swiped over to TikTok, searched for Booktok and looked at the trending topics. There were reels, memes, and reactions about your book. There were people quoting about your book, reenactments of certain scenes, before and after reactions, etc. Of course there were some who didn’t believe that you wrote it, thinking you stole it from Abigail, but that was beside the point. 

Your first book had taken the world by storm, and he hadn’t even considered this possibility because it has only happened a few times with Sailboat Publishing. He should have negotiated a higher number of books with you! But that was then, this is now. 

He quickly opened a new message on his email, attaching the email he had gotten, inquiring you to see what he has seen and if you would allow more copies to be published. His schedule is open, so please answer when you get a chance.  He received an email from you a few hours later, stating the following:

 I work twelve hour shifts on weekdays and only have weekends to get my life together. Why do we need to discuss numbers? I already received the advanced copy. Were you trying to send an attachment? It didn’t go through. Wi-Fi was down until now. 

[First Name]

Yandere!Literary Agent immediately responded, asking if you would like to meet up later today if that was possible. You said that you were still out running a few errands, but could meet him at Sally’s Diner or a Starbucks.  Both places were located halfway between his office and your home, at least the ones you knew about. If he wasn’t at work today, where else did he want to meet? You don’t want to travel too far, and you’d like to take a nap before it gets too late in the day. He had to fight off the smile that was threatening to stretch across his mouth. Cheeky. He thought. He already had a light lunch, but he wasn’t opposed to getting a mid-afternoon pickup. When he offered to pay for your drink and a pastry of your choice, you responded that you would meet him there in an hour. 

It gave plenty of time to gather what he needed to speak to you about the current situation. 

He met you outside of the building at the allotted time, enjoying a light breeze before following you inside, holding the door open for you and a mother-daughter duo exiting with Strawberry Acai Refreshers in their hands. 

Once the orders were placed under his name, Yandere!Literary Agent led you to the back of the cafe and sat down at one of the small tables. You followed suit, hooking the straps of your backpack on the back of your chair.  “Did you read the attachment?” He asked. 

You nodded. “I did. But….you’re absolutely sure the numbers are right, the ones you’ve shown me? Because if this is your idea of a joke, I swear to God -”

Yulian held up a hand in the air, stopping you from saying anything else.

"Believe me I thought the same thing when I first opened it, but this is no joke, [First Name]. Publishing companies from around the world have reached out, requesting mass publications in at least fifteen different languages, at the moment. And according to the PR team, more keep coming. Your work has gone global, [First Name], and more people are wanting to read it." 

You looked at him in utter disbelief, leaning back against the chair with wide [Eye Color] orbs. Before you could ask him any more questions, the barista called out for Yulian. 

Yandere!Literary Agent stood up, collecting the drinks and pastry and returning to his seat. Placing them down on the table, he gave yours, and put his black coffee to the side so that he could boot up his laptop. He pulled up the reprint requests so you could see it for yourself. The proof that you are a successful writer. You stared at the screen for a moment until you glanced back up at him.

“Why is it so successful? I thought the reason we agreed on a small number of copies to be printed was because of the plagiarism scandal. There’s been nothing on the news about it lately, or about Abigail.” 

Yulian smiled. “Because you are a brilliant writer. While we did agree on a small account of copies to be printed, there’s high praise on social media. Everyone is clamoring to read it, hence why the demand is greater than anyone could have anticipated, myself included.” He folded his hands together, elbows pressing against the table. “Now, regarding the…situation with Ms. Crowley, the legal team still has the materials you had shown to me; the receipts from Etsy, the Google Docs, they all have timestamps. So even if she wishes to take it to court, no one can deny that she did indeed steal your work because you created this masterpiece while she was working on another series. And before you say anything, your personal information has and will not be released.”

You nodded slowly at his words, your shoulders dropping in relief before reaching for your beverage, taking a languid sip from the cup. Then another, obviously relishing the effect of caffeine giving your body that much needed energy boost. Yandere! Literary Agent knew the feeling all too well. 

“Now, how many copies will you allow us to reprint?”

“What are the fees that will come with doing this kind of job?” You fired back. “If there is a global demand like you say there is, then someone will need to translate it. Not to mention there are different cover designs, marketing, all of that fun stuff. Will the royalties, if I am to receive any, be deducted to cover the cost? I do not want to get myself into any more debt that I already have.”

Yandere!Literary Agent pulled out his laptop from his messenger bag, pulling up the spreadsheets that the publishing and financing departments had created earlier in the week. The information included fees for translating, reprinting,  and international shipping based on demand. On the very bottom of the last spreadsheet would be your net income. 

He had no doubt that this amount of money would allow you to be debt-free and live comfortably…at least until you could write another book. Then he saw the confusion, panic, excitement and anxiety swirling in your irises. The mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish. Yandere!Literary Agent had seen that stupefied look more than once. It was the expression of someone who had not expected to receive such a big paycheck, at least until he had kindly explained that there were some fees which needed to be paid, which would be deducted from the royalties. With you, it seemed like he did not have to hold your hand and explain how the business of publishing went, word for word. 

Which is why he was quite surprised to see you suddenly standing up, grabbing your backpack and slinging it over your shoulder. “Where are you going?” He asked, watching you push in the chair.

“I’m leaving.”

“But you still haven’t decided on a number of copies for us to reprint!”

“I’m sorry, but I am not liking where this conversation is headed. As I mentioned before, I write for fun. This isn’t about the money, and I have no desire whatsoever to be your next cash cow.  Can’t you decide on a number and call it a day?”

“Not without your consent! That would be in direct violation of our contract, and you wouldn’t be paid for the reprinted copies!” He exclaimed. Yes, he knew that he was acting a bit…childish, but this is a serious matter! How could you even think of walking away from a one-in-a-million opportunity like this? Or even believe that he would use your writing to embellish the company’s reputation further by being the sole representative of an extremely popular, best-selling writer?

Because in the darkest corner of his mind, a nasty voice would gleefully agree with your accusations. This was nothing personal, it was a business. And he would go where there was talent, and money. Not to mention elevate his status even further as a high-in-demand literary agent for one of the biggest publishing companies in the States. 

You raised an eyebrow at him, then leaned forward, putting your hands on the back of the chair.

“Mister Prescott, for a minute, please pretend I am not a client and explain in layman’s terms, why would I be paid for that? As far as I was concerned, once the book is out of my hands, it is your responsibility and how the printing is handled. Or am I wrong?” 

A client. That’s right….you weren’t a client. You were just a hobbyist writer who had your work stolen by one of his clients. But you were still a writer, someone who could create worlds while working godawful shifts back-to-back. So he spoke plainly to you.

While you were not officially his client, your work was still part of Sailboat Publishing, therefore it is his responsibility to ensure that the royalties matched the time and effort you had put in creating The Darkness and The Nightingale. Yes, he had to make sure the quality of the book’s printing were high quality and not a hackneyed rush job just to keep up with the demand. 

Then he said he would be delighted if he could be your official representative…in the near future.

You shook your head. “No need for that. You returned my story to me. After we decide on numbers, I’d say your business with me is done.”

“You don’t want to be an author on the New York Times’ Bestseller List.” It was more of a statement than a question. So why did his heart drop into the pit of his stomach at the thought of never seeing you again once you walk out of the door?

“I’m pretty sure you have more than enough clients to keep yourself busy for a long time.” You said dryly. “You’d drive yourself crazy if you worked with me.”

“And how do you know that it won’t work out?” He challenged you with a small smile. You just gave him an ‘are-you-shitting-me’ frown before releasing a low sigh.

“I still have six more months left on my contract with the hospital. I can’t just quit or I risk having to pay back everything as compensation for breaching it before the end of the contract. I wouldn’t be able to do anything related to the book, like tours and interviews until…sometime next year? No, more like the beginning of next year, like around February. I am starting to outline the concept of another idea I have for a book, a standalone, but I only write on my days off or when I’m on my lunch break. Are you fine with waiting until I send you a query letter and the first fifty pages until next February? Is that too long for your liking?”

Yandere! Literary Agent was not bothered by this proposition. If anything, it worked out perfectly with his schedule. And there is the prospect of you becoming his official client. However, he did not want to push your boundaries any more than he already has for today. Instead, he said that it was fine with him. 

“If you agree to us printing more copies of The Darkness and The Nightingale, then we’ll be all set until next year. Do you want to use the same cover worldwide, or do you want us to come up with some alternative covers for different countries, and send you the designs you like?”

“...Alternative.” You said, pulling back the chair and sitting back down, backpack plopped into the adjacent seat. “Do you have any artists that you recommend, or have portfolios I could look at?”

Decisions were discussed within the next hour, and Yandere!Literary Agent was satisfied with leaving Starbucks with an idea of what his Monday morning is going to look like. But what satisfied him more was the number of copies that he and you agreed on. Fifty-thousand, in each language. 

It was enough to make his heart quicken with excitement. 

Or is he anticipating the momentous day when you signed a contract with Sailboat Publishing and he became your literary agent? Six months might seem like a long time….but he prided himself on being a patient man. 

Knowing he will be the best damned agent for you, because you deserve nothing less, and much more.  

Knowing he will be the only one to read your WIPS, help you become a better writer, protect you from the paparazzi and anyone else who would dare to try to covet you like a trophy. 

Knowing that in the end, all you will have is him. And he will have you, whether you like it or not. 

If Abigail Crowley keeps trying to contact him, pleading that she wasn’t wrong and that she did have a new idea for a book so please read her emails she’s been sending please give her one more chance don’t ruin her life please…he might have to do something about it. 

Noisy dogs need to be fed, right?

©️do not repost or use any of the characters depicted here without the author’s permission. forbidden-sunlight, 2024

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[itsonlydana]

"Can you meet me halfway (I'll meet you halfway" | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader x Bard 👑 [king's special]

you went out clubbing on new years eve when a gorgeous rich couple hits on you and invites you back to their apartment to finish what you started right on the dancefloor

warnings/tags: NSWF! THIS IS ADULT CONTENT ✋️, modern!AU, threesome, oral sex (male & female), dirty talk, semi-public-sex, soft dom! bard and bratty dom!thranduil, protected sex, fingering, passing out during sex, slight overstimulation, age-gap (reader is of age, though its described that thranduil and bard are older), hairpulling, aftercare,

words: 13,8k

an: this is by far the dirtiest thing i've ever written and my god i'm not a smut writer; i get too flustered over my own writing lmao. Hopefully you can enjoy this out-of-character story even if it isn't new years anymore!

inspired by early 2000s club bangers like Kesha, Britney Spears, Black Eyed Peas (that's where the title came from) and Lady Gaga

+ masterlist + 

🌿 reposts and comments or anonymous messages in my inbox are very appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

"What?!"

"I said," the barkeeper leaned closer and pushed a filled to the rim shotglass over the counter, "this one is from the pretty one to your right!"

With a myriad of people in this club who fit your definition of "pretty" you found yourself on the brink of shouting at the red-haired bartender once more.

This would mark the third attempt, given that the club's 2000s music was blaring to the extent that communication was damn near impossible if you weren't screaming or using your hands trying to get orders across the sticky, littered with neon glowstick wristbands counter.

Before you could ask her who the hell she'd meant, the bartender had turned away, leaving you to figure out the mystery man for yourself.

You lifted the shot glass to your nose and took a deep breath— pure tequila.

At least you would enjoy this one; the last few shots other men had sent over to you had been nothing but disgusting, ranging from vodka to Jägermeister and one you didn't even bother to drink.

The world spun a little when you turned your head over your shoulder and for a second the flashy lights blurred the people crowding the bar into one mass, unidentifiable and mushed together; then your eyes zeroed in on him and pretty didn't even begin to cover it.

Next to the bar, holding out his own shot glass in hands that could've fit three or five of them, stood a man that was intimidatingly gorgeous and decently tall even as he rested his hip cheekily against one of the chairs, elbow on the wooden top while he flicked his fingers against the rim of the glass.

Not even that he was just tall, and he was –surely taller than most of the men standing between you two –, but he had this quality about him that let him stand out of the crowd.

Maybe it was the hair, blonde like starlight and pulled into a long and messy ponytail, with just a few loose strands framing his strong jawline. Or maybe it was the smug look on his face, the smirk that tugged on his lips when you dragged your eyes over the see-through shirt that clung to his well... and oh so– so well-defined chest.

On any other occasion, you would have simply raised the glass and disappeared back into the crowd of dancing people, but tonight felt different.

New Year's Eve had that ring to it. The careless "Fuck it all, it's all going to shit anyway"-attitude.

Any newspaper or media marked today the last day of yet another frustrating, wonderful, soul-crushing, draining, exciting, and overall overwhelming year, full of things you regretted having done, and as you stared at the man meeting your gaze with a questioning arch of a dark eyebrow, you found yourself giving a flying fuck about whether you'll add another mark on that board.

There was a surge of power washing through your body as you toasted the glass in his direction before tipping it against your lips and letting the tequila rush into your mouth.

The alcohol went down burning, hot, and dry and left a warm trail down your throat into your stomach.

"I see you not only bear a resemblance to the devil, you drink like her as well," a sultry voice drawled, sufficiently loud for you to lift your head.

Somehow the man had managed to appear right next to you within seconds and got so close that you were confronted with a very exciting view of his chest.

You eyed it, naturally because who wouldn't take their time looking at the flexing pecs covered in silver glitter and sweat?

Slowly, you dragged your gaze upwards, only faltering for a moment at the sight of a pink tongue running over plush lips. You met his eyes again, this time with no more than half a meter separating you and you were glad your knees didn't buckle like they threatened to do.

"And what are you? Some angel that has fallen from heaven?" Your counter was weak, a bad example of what was usually some excellent flirting, if you dare say yourself, but it's all you could manage with those cerulean eyes staring down at you in interest.

He laughed, thank fucking god, and tilted his head to the side. "It must be fate that we met, is it not?"

"Buy me another drink and we'll see"

Somehow, it didn't surprise you that he simply raised his pointer finger and the server immediately rushed to prepare whatever order he'd signaled her.

"Unfair, I waited, like at least five minutes for some water," you complained, not really putting any real annoyance into it but pouting nonetheless for the effect.

It went a long way because the stranger stepped closer, up into the little bit of personal space one could have in an overcrowded club, and cooed, "What a shame. Who could ever pass such a lovely face and not serve you right away?"

"I don't know," you sighed and smiled at him sweeter than sugar, "I do know that we shouldn't let that tequila go to waste though"

"Then be a good girl and drink up"

Oh, yeah.

Suppose you hadn't already contemplated sleeping with him, that certainly solidified your decision.

This wasn't just fate, this must be compensation for all the shit you've been through this year, wrapped up nicely in 6 feet and more of dripping sex and sultry smiles.

Eyes locked, you both clinked the glasses together before throwing them back. You couldn't help it when your lashes flutter shut.

Once again, the tequila burned all the way down to your stomach, adding to the cocktail of drinks that lowered your inhibitions and made your core throb in excitement.

You would've asked him for salt and lemon if he hadn't looked so unbothered by the pure taste. His lips didn't twitch, while you're sure yours were pulled into a grimace.

"Thank you, Sir," the words left your mouth without a second thought.

Thinking, in general, started to become more of a theory than something you were willing to do tonight; much too exhausting if you could simply let your tongue run wild.

He rewarded you for that decision, for his eyes widened and he stepped even closer, now slotting one of those long legs - and fuck, was he really wearing leather pants? Who had access to your wet dreams?- between yours as he leaned down.

"I must say you caught my interest the moment I saw you on the dance floor," He placed a hand on the countertop, not touching you yet, though the invitation he gave you, the silent question for permission, spoke for itself.

The second move was on you to lure him in and you blinked up at him while you trailed your fingers over the arm, scratching hairless skin with the tip of your nails until it changed into the fishnet top and you placed the hand to rest on one strong shoulder. The red color of your nail polish made such a beautiful contrast to his fair skin that your mind conjured imagines of how they must look on other parts of him.

Surely, with the size of him…

Now that you initiated the contact, he drove forward with his second hand, and the large palm cupped your chin.

While the touch was hot in how it's delivered, so dominating, and fuck if that didn't send warm licks of pleasure down your spine, his hand itself was surprisingly cold.

The temperature in the club was almost unbearable, only manageable through refreshing drinks and a trip or two to the bathrooms, and the spikes of the cool touch fought the heat pooling in your body.

One of those silky locks of hair brushed your neckline, falling right into the cut out of your dress that his eyes shamelessly took in from his higher-up viewpoint.

You took a deep breath, maybe even pushed out your chest as he eyed it in the knowledge that the lace bra was showing through.

All you inhaled was the intoxicating smell of his cologne, vanilla (even though you suspected he is anything but...), and something sweet and without a doubt expensive.

You're addicted to it the moment it hit your nose and clouded your mind.

"Do you not believe that an appropriate thank you is in order?" he inquired; no, he demanded.

You decided to play dumb, not because you thought he's into that – on the contrary, he seemed the kind of man who admired eloquence and intellect rather than dullness – but because it's a game you both enjoyed playing.

There was intrigue in tip-toeing around what is most obvious (lust as well as the urge to rip each other's clothes off as soon as possible, maybe even a fuck in the bathrooms).

"I thought I already said thank you," you mused, pushing out your lower lip into a pout again, "and that lousy shot is hardly worth more than a few words. You can't expect something greater if there is nothing to thank for."

He raised a dark eyebrow – you wondered if he colored his hair or eyebrows – and the hand around your chin lifted your head to twist it right and left.

One smooth thumb brushed over the pout, and he clicked his tongue. "Now now, I would consider this greedy if you were not in the right. You poor thing must be exhausted after all the dancing"

His eyes flashed when yours widened; he really did notice you before, had watched you.

"Yes," he drawled as if he read your mind, and his lips curved into a smirk that flashed a row of perfect bright teeth, "I saw how you moved out there, how wanton you presented yourself. However, it did not escape my notice that you rebuffed anyone who dared to approach."

When you opened your mouth to say something, his finger swiped over your lip again. Without hesitation, you sucked on the fingertip, collecting a few drops of tequila that you made a show of swallowing.

The protest disappeared with it down your throat.

He was right, why deny it?

The way you danced was just an expression of how comfortable you felt in your own body, the rhythm provided by provocative music a tool to follow the movements.

Everything you did, you did for yourself, not for the men who attempted to touch you simply because they were captivated by the dancing. As if you would accept some clammy hands grabbing for you.

"Maybe it was wanton," you said after releasing his finger, but not without scratching your teeth over it.

His pupils dilated, his chest raised at a sudden inhale of air; he apparently underestimated you.

You nodded your head toward the dance floor, "maybe I came here to look for a good fuck, but it's my decision who I take and not theirs"

"As you should. Those boys who tried and failed miserably were amusing to watch. None of them were good enough for you, right, sweetheart?"

You hummed in agreement as well as disagreement. "I'm not searching for anyone good enough," you thought back to all the good-guys who had lured you in with promises of treasuring you only to become insufferable with their need to control in the end.

"Then what do you need?"

"I want someone bad," the tone in your voice was challenging, just like the stare you gave him. "I want someone who won't be afraid to break me"

There was a slight tug on your chin, his hand pulled you in slightly but any further without any movement from you, it would've cause a strain in your neck.

You craved it.

The blonde god, he must be, the thought became clearer with any passing second, a gift, a god, an angel, crushed his mouth against yours. There was a fleeting moment where you realized you didn't know his name, but then his other hand wrapped around your neck, and your teeth clashed, and you found yourself not caring one bit.

You're sure he wouldn't mind if you moaned "God" instead of his name. Maybe he would even get off to it.

Only one way to find out.

It turned out quite hard to manage saying anything at all, his kisses stole every last bit of oxygen, robbing you of the ability to string together words and turning you into a whimpering mess with his tongue and wandering hands.

He called you a devil yet here he was, corrupting you in a way that will ruin you for any other person.

"You taste divine," he sounded as breathless as you felt when you separated and dizziness cultivated in your lust-clouded head at the compliment rasped in that deep voice of his.

"Do not worry," he continued, smearing the string of spit that connected you over your plush lips, "If you allow me I will try my very best to break you"

Hell or heaven, wherever he was leading you right now, your need tripped over itself eagerly.

When was the last time you were this aroused? You felt yourself growing wetter and wetter, and that only through his words and kisses; the state he could push you into if he truly fucked you would be completely new territory, you realized.

A nod is all you could manage.

The last you saw on his face was a wide grin before he kissed you again, this time though, he moved on to your jaw and then your neck. You beared it to him by tilting your head, eyes falling on the ceiling where the neon lights hushed over black brick, coloring your sight while your face took on a flushed red.

The blond devil nipped and bit, sucked and scratched in a manner so animalistic you wouldn't have thought a surely unquestionably sophisticated man to be able to.

You whimpered again, and your hands rose to grab something, anything and you found that ponytail the most accessible. Your fingers twirled a few soft strands as you gasped when his teeth sunk into the delicate skin right where your neck and shoulder met, and the slight pain following wasn't unwelcome.

It made you feel alive.

You're close to pulling him away to the bathroom– an amused laugh to your side prevented that thought from festering any further.

"I'm away for one smoke and you just couldn' wait?"

Unable to think straight after the assault on your neck, it took a moment for you to come back to your senses that don't revolve around lips, kiss, bite, fuck, suck…

Your sight spun as you snapped your head back, nearly knocking your chin into the man still busy marking you up, unbothered that there was another man watching you and clearly waiting for an answer.

So you decided to do the only thing that must convince him to let go, and you pulled on his hair.

He growled, fucking growled, and his lips twisted, flashing his teeth again.

Your heart dropped into your wet panties until you found he wasn't pinning you to the floor with the hard stare but the new arrival.

"Did you not see that I was busy?" he snapped at the dark-haired man, and while you felt slightly scared he was going to rip his handsome head off, the man only sported an annoyed expression.

"Yes, exactly. If I remember correctly, we decided to wait until I get back?"

Decided, waited?

"You took too long"

The man threw his head back in a raspy laugh, "Incorrigible bastard. Will I have to sit you down with a toy to keep you busy while I'm away?"

The blonde turned back to you and smirked, "That will not be necessary as I am quite capable of finding my own toys"

"Hey!" you cut into the conversation, not amused that they talked as if you weren't right there, "I'm not a fucking toy!"

Both men turned to you now, towering over you in their height, and mustering you so intensely that you slightly squirmed under their gaze.

The man with salt and pepper hair chuckled. "I am so sorry, Darlin'. I hope Thranduil didn't play too hard?"

Considering that you still felt the scratch of his teeth on your neck and the wet spit he left there, you felt like some kind of chew toy one would throw their dog but nevertheless, you pushed your chin up high. "Nothing I can't take."

The blonde's, Thranduil's, hand on your waist pulled you into him possessively. "I told you there is some bite behind the pretty face," he smirked.

While it didn't escape you that this hinted to a previous conversation, a plan formed over you, it's the attractiveness of them that led you to turn a blind eye.

"Weren't you the one biting a minute ago?" The music made it hard to talk normally and you stood up on your tiptoes to yell the words, but all that it resulted in is a deep chuckle.

"Oh, I like you," the other man laughed as well.

You took him in, the tight pants that showed off strong thighs and the black and gold shirt with more buttons open than actually buttoned that presented muscles and hair leading down and oh–

"What a surprise," you said, looking up to meet his hungry eyes, "I find I like you too" You turned your head to Thranduil, who smirked and sent you a wink that had you blushing, "So how's this gonna work? I'm going to be blunt and say that five minutes ago I was convinced you and I were on the same page, what's with your friend?"

"Husband"

"Husband?!" you parroted, unconvinced yet when your eyes fell on their hands a gold ring flashed back at you from both fingers.

Heat curled in your body like molten lava at lustful and otherwise utterly inappropriate thoughts this provoked of these two married man having their way around your body.

Thranduil bowed his head lower again, playfully nipping at the part of your neck that surely was already bruising. "I have to admit that I promised Bard to wait for him to come back, though I found I could not follow through when I saw you approaching the bar."

You swallowed. Hard. Not that it helped your very dry throat.

Bard came closer, reclaiming your attention.

His face, more defined than Thranduil's, was adorned with a rugged layer of dark stubble, crow's feet framing his vivid green eyes when he smiled at you. He looked the picture of a soft soul, but you remembered that this couple was picking up a third partner on New Year's Eve, so you shouldn't judge a book by its cover.

There was some spice behind the old-armchair-and-book-vibes.

"Will that be a problem, Darlin'?" he asked in that ruff voice, posh and Welsh accent dripping over you.

A refreshment to hear that accent in this city, so enthralling in how it wrapped around you; especially that damn nickname. There was no way you would say no to him.. both of them if he called you Darling one more time.

You shook your head. "No. I think I'll just need a bit more liquid encouragement if I am to survive this night."

"Oh, what a shame," Thranduils lips left where they continued to suck and lap on your neck, peppering kisses, leaving bruises, and moved to your earlobe. His voice dropped as much into a whisper as the music allowed it, "I had my hopes on fucking you into heavenly spheres"

There went the last string of sanity holding you back.

Hearing a man who was seemingly hell-bent on avoiding abbreviations like "don't" and "can't" at all costs speak in such a filthy way was something you never knew you needed.

"I hope you can follow through with that," you trailed a hand over his smooth chest, collecting glitter on your way and smeared it over his throat where his adams apple bobbed, "because if you break that promise like you did the one with your husband, I will just have to let him finish the job"

Thranduil yanked you back into him, back into a kiss that seared itself into your memories and burned the touch, taste, and movement of his lips into every cell of your body.

It was almost aggressive how much teeth went into the kiss, how he bit down and all you could do was gasp and whimper.

Briefly, you thought of the poor people around you, because if all you wanted to do was get a drink and were confronted with one person devouring the other, you would be seething but right now you were being the one he kissed, whose sounds he swallowed and whose hands held you to him.

So fuck them.

With your senses heightened now that you wanted these men all over you, the sensation of Bard leaning in, hair tips tickling your neck as he licked Thranduil's throat, led you to pull away from the blonde. You watched as Bard sprinkled something flaky and white onto the spot wet with spit, and only when he lifted a shot glass the thought crystalized that he salted Thranduil for you.

"Come on," Thranduil's smirk taunted you just as much as his words, "What is another lousy shot? We even made it easy for you poor baby, after you could not take the first one easily"

Rolling your eyes at the mocking, you dove in to copy Bard. The salt sticking to his neck coated your tongue and you took longer than necessary to lick the skin free of it. The rush that this sent through you was exhilarating.

As soon as you were finished, your head got tilted backward firm and yet gently.

Rough fingertips cupped your neck and one thumb moved to press against your jaw, as you felt a solid chest in your back.

"Open wide, Darlin'," Bard ordered and encouraged you to follow him as his other thumb pushed between your teeth.

You obeyed, never once breaking eye contact with Thranduil and taking in his lust-blown pupils, as Bard poured the tequila into your mouth, directly down your throat. Then, while you pulled a grimace, shutting your eyes for a second, Bard turned you around, sandwiching you between them.

When you opened your eyes again, you saw the green slice of lemon between his teeth and following the wink he sent you; you knew exactly what was to come next.

Kissing Bard was very different from getting kissed by Thranduil.

His lips were slightly cracked, not soft and they tasted like smokey whiskey and cigarettes, with hints of coffee and lime instead of fruity cocktails and rose chapstick. Lifting one hand to his face, your fingertips grazed the rough beard growing on his sharp jawline, the stubble scratching you in a promising way.

While you had been surprised when Thranduil had kissed you, you eagerly answered Bard's kiss with fervor. Your mind already teetered on the brink of shutting down and you poured the desperation into his mouth with a moan.

He chuckled, drawing back just enough that he could spit out the lemon – sucked empty – before wiping his thump over your lips.

"Sweet thing"

There was a softness in that gesture, but only short-lived before he kissed you again. His hands trailed your body, coming to rest on either side of your neck again and even that slight of pressure loaded a million images through your head.

A second pair of hands joined him on you, it's confusing until a large body pressed into your back and you realized- it was only Thranduil.

Well, only…

It had been clear that the man could and would not accept being reduced to anything. He radiated an attitude that you would call bratty but with his expensive clothes, that rich perfume, and the wave of the hand that brought him drinks, aristocratic diva seemed more fitting.

His demanding character became clear when his hands set on your waist, immediately fingering the seam of your jeans, pulling you more into him by the belt loops.

You followed that tug, though Bard deepened the kiss to keep you by him, his tongue exploring your mouth and enticing you to breathlessly moan against his smiling lips.

Despite the loud music, Thranduil's voice was loud in your ear.

"As stunning as you right now, I can not help but imagine you squirming on our silk sheets– moving those bewitching hips of yours," Thranduil playfully took the burning tip of your ear into his mouth, "If you want to follow this invitation, of course"

"Whatever you just said," Bard broke away from you to look over your shoulder at his husband, "It better have been the idea of finally getting out of here" he pushed his hips against yours for you to feel the hard outline of him, "because I don't want to wait til the ball drops"

"Is that a metaphor?"

"Thran–" There was a warning edge in Bard's voice, and you felt Thranduil huff.

"Funny, how this old man can not take a joke as soon as he is aroused"

It's absurd how casually he said this while his hands slid down the front of your jeans, earning himself a gasp from you.

Unashamed as a man only his status can be, he toyed with the seam of your underwear, not caring one bit for the glare of his husband.

Your body arched into him, answering the question he had whispered earlier.

The only thing keeping you from getting down on your knees to worship him and his obviously talented fingers was the blaring music, reminding you that you were not yet somewhere private and very much on display.

You briefly wondered if these two were rich enough to simply pay their way out of a public indecency arrest. You wouldn't be surprised if they wouldn't even get arrested.

Since Thranduil made no sign of disengaging himself from you, you stepped away from him, right against Bard's chest.

"Shall we go? Your husband mentioned luxury sheets which I bet are more comfortable than a threesome on the dance floor"

The way out of the club presented itself as more difficult than you would have thought.

With Bard shoving a path through the dancing crowd in front of you, holding on to one hand, Thranduil breathing down your neck and you pausing now and again because "Oh my gosh, I love this song!" it took a lot longer than necessary.

Not that any one of you minded.

Lost in the mass of people shouting, dancing, and pushing you three closer together and the tequila in your bloodstream you ended up undulating to Nicki Minaj's 'Pound The Alarm' completely lost on the fact that both men had stopped to watch you.

The lights were colorful and sharp and in their hues, Bards and Thranduil's jawlines looked even sharper tinted red, blue, green, and whenever the disco ball flashed white across their faces the lust in their eyes caused shivers on every part of you.

Thranduil's hands moved to your lower abdomen, making it easy to grind against him as you raised your hands to Bard's strong shoulders.

Two huge pairs of hands gripped your waist from either side and held you steady and close to themselves, keeping everyone else from getting any nearer than they allowed.

"Fucking hell– Darlin' you drive me crazy!" Bard yelled over the music as you suddenly decided to drop down intact with the beat, dragging your nails over his torso.

You laughed, low and full-heartedly.

Coming up, his hands moved to the flushed skin that your shirt had revealed by riding up, holding you tight to sweep you away into a kiss.

One thigh, leather, and flexing muscles shoved itself between your thighs and you responded eagerly, grinding against it without a second thought.

Just when you thought you were ready to finally go, the song ended and faded into yet another pop hit. 'LoveGame' by Lady Gaga and intact of the low thumping beat, Thranduil's hips circle against your behind, pressing what was an impressive hardness into your arse while his deep voice switched from singing to humming the lyrics.

One of his hands spread over your abdomen, the other arm blindly reached for Bard and pulled him into a kiss right over your head.

Amid the mass of sweaty people and the multicolor array of colors flashing over Thranduil's blonde hair, the 2000s music blaring through the speakers and resonating in every cell of your fevered body, they looked hot enough for the porn industry to sign them under contract.

You were never making it out of the club.

You did make it out eventually, sweat dripping down your temple, Thranduil's chest in your back whenever you stumbled, his hands steadying you.

On what you assumed was an oversight or blind eye of the club owners the crowd had doubled in the last hour.

Far too many people joined the floor and even with Bard's commanding presence leading you it had been close to impossible to step forward and not swerve out of the way of someone drunk.

Outside, the line curved around the block, and those who waited or didn't get into the club or even just hung in groups celebrating on the streets blocked the whole sidewalk.

A number of fireworks were already soaring into the air, sent up there by early birds who couldn't wait until midnight – cheered up by loud excited screams and laughter as the dark night sky lit up here and there with colorful explosions.

Quite sobered up, the dancing had contributed to that, you stared at them.

"How the fuck are we supposed to get out of here?" you asked and crossed your arms in front of you; the winds were biting cold and you hadn't bothered bringing a jacket, "It's madness."

"We will just get a cab"

You barked out a laugh though Bard stayed completely serious.

"Wait, that wasn't a joke?" you rubbed your palms over the naked skin, still warm and thrumming with the afterglow of the unbearable heat of the club, although the cold fought hard and unfairly.

"No, sweetheart, it wasn't," Thranduil said, not bothered by the chaos of people pushing each other, waving their hands like they're trying to flag down a spaceship.

On this day, the chances for that to happen were more likely than actually getting a cab.

He took one step into the busy street, and you yelped, overcome by the shock that he just walked into fucking traffic, his long ponytail swaying with his steps.

Then, like movie magic, a car swerved to the side and stopped right next to Thranduil.

Bard pulled you along, your hand cradled to his chest so as not to lose you. Thranduil opened the door, gracefully sitting down behind the empty passenger seat.

You stumbled onto the back seat next to him, and mumbled a half-hearted "Hello" to the driver, who gave you a nod – a nod, an hour before midnight, from a cap driver, fucking miracles– before shut the plastic window close.

"Holy crap," you exhaled. "Is this what the high life's like? Getting drinks and cabs without any fucking effort?"

Despite the crude and cutting words swinging in their direction, Bard and Thranduil chuckled. The synchronized deep sound reverberated in the quiet cab, warming up the space instantly.

"Do you really think that this" – Thranduil languidly gestures to all of him – "takes no effort?"

Bard huffed. He leaned into you as if he wanted to whisper a secret, but didn't lower his voice: "We were supposed to be here five hours ago. Took him that long to figure out what to wear." He shot a teasing grin at his husband.

"Oh, I have had enough of your whining," In one elegant movement Thranduil folded one long leg over the other. The point of his boot caught your shin in a soft tap that drew your attention to him.

He smirked, one eyebrow raised. "If you are interested, though, I could show you what it is like to ride the waves of the high life"

"Is that a metaphor?"

"No," Bard's lips ghosted over your neck, peppering more kisses to the skin there, "A promise for an unforgettable high"

You were unable to think of what they could propose.. well, you could, but they wouldn't, not here in this cap, right?

Bard's legs were spread a little far apart and, fuck, the flickering lights of the city flying by highlighted a very prominent bulge that he made no effort of hiding. Was he going commando?!

Your eyes snapped back, burning a hole into the roof of the cab.

A hand fell behind you on the headrest at the same moment as Thranduil's cold fingers slipped onto your thigh.

Thranduil's hand snuck to your jeans and played with the button and zipper before,

Oh-

he opened your jeans and immediately slid his cold, long, slender fingers down your panties.

Oh, fuck

Your hips twitched into his hand and you had to bite down on your finger to muffle the gasp that itched behind your teeth.

Without a care in the world, Thranduil cupped your sex, mumbling something to himself under his breath that sounded like a "So fucking wet- for us?" and worked his middle finger into you.

Pulling it out again, he started circling your clit, smearing your own slick over it, moving right over the spot where your nerve endings were sparking white and hot and you shuddered uncontrollably.

The chill of his fingertips heightened your sensitivity. Still flushed all hot from the club, you instinctively arched upward, a soft gasp escaping your lips as Thranduil's fingers tapped against your swollen wet clit.

The noise prompted his gaze to lock onto yours.

Your gasp broke off as your hips nearly flew off the seat and it was only for the belt snapping tightly against your lower abdomen that your head didn't make contact with the roof.

That, and the arm Bard put around your shoulders. He held you down and gave you his biceps to let your head fall against something that wasn't the uncomfortable seatrest.

Your cheeks flushed under Thranduils scrutiny, as well as at the general scene and obscenity of everything, and a subtle smirk played on his lips.

"Do you enjoy that?" His voice was flirty, and while you want to retort that it should be very clear how much you liked his fingers fucking into you, you only managed a nod.

"Say it." He leaned forward, a teasing glint in his eyes. His fingers stopped, clearly waiting for you to obey his order. "Use your words, you still know how, right? I haven't even started, clearly there must be something you could tell me."

"Yes," your admission was barely a whisper, but it sufficed.

Thranduil hummed, using his other hand to open your legs as wide as the tight jeans allowed it before he worked two agile fingers into your throbbing cunt.

You stared at him through half-lidded eyes, watching his relaxed demeanor while fingering you open without caring about anything else.

The heel of his hand pressed into your pelvis, giving him a reasonably steady hold in the jolting cab so that he could hit a spot inside you with precision and with every, goddamn, perfect, thrust of his fingers that made you pant out.

"Thran-" the nickname you heard Bard call him slipped out unconsciously, it's the only thing you could pull out of the depth of your mind, "Thran.. please"

"Beggin' already?" Bard chuckled, "Darlin' you have seen nothing yet and here you are, beggin' to cum in the back of a cab."

"Bard you have no idea how fucking wet she is. She's dripping down my hand, squeezing my fingers, and fuck she's so tight," Thranduil muttered and as he slipped his other hand to the one slipping and sliding against your g-spot in a maddening relentless rhythm, he rubbed them over your folds.

He collected some of your wetness on those fingers, circling your clit again before pulling them away, out of your pants, and to your horror, he held them up into the air, inspecting how his fingers glistened in the city lights.

He rubbed them together, all right in the view of the rear back mirror of the cab driver, who – thank god – kept his eyes on the road and only turned up the radio in unspoken ignorance of what was happening in his car.

God, you hoped these men would tip him adequately.

"Here," Thranduil reached his arm out past your half-opened lips and for a moment you thought he was going to offer you his fingers, but he leaned further forward.

A gasp broke out of you as you watched Bard open his mouth and greedily took both fingers right between his lips, and.. sucked.

His eyes fell shut with a contented sigh as if he were tasting his favorite drink.

You saw his tongue run thoroughly over Thranduil's patiently waiting fingers, cleaning them off every last bit of you, and god, you wanted to be those fingers so damn bad at that moment.

Then he looked at you again. There was such a deep hunger in those eyes that would look beautifully between your legs, brown hair falling messily into his sight as he ate you out.

Meanwhile, Thranduil's fingers inside you moved harder and faster, curling to brush every sensitive spot of your walls, in, out, in, another curl, and then out.

You clenched your entrance in anticipation, the feeling of two of his fingers filling you this deliciously and continuously.

You were so so close, almost there–

"Shit, you're the sweetest. I think I'll eat you for breakfast tomorrow"

The abrupt halt of the cab barely registered for you; instead, it finally propelled you over the edge.

Thranduil's precise movement hit that spot inside you perfectly, crooking his fingers just right to brush against it. Combined with Bard's downright filthy promise, you nearly let out a scream as the powerful orgasm surged through you and you had to flex your muscles so you didn't continue riding his hand.

Thranduil, however, didn't stop, even though there was no way he didn't know you climaxed and he kept up the same pace, same fucking precision and pressure that your body convulsed around those long talented fingers and you couldn't even go anywhere, the seatbelt cut off your escape to the front and you were so far into the seat that wasn't an option as well, and it took a soft broken whimper, for words were long lost, for Thranduil to press a kiss to your neck before he sucked his fingers dry.

Your legs were still shaking as the elevator took you up to the penthouse at the top of the skyscraper the cab had stopped in front of.

Four mirrors gave you a splendid view of Bard's broad back as he crowded you against one of the walls, his thick fingers down your jeans again, as he mouthed hot kisses onto your neck.

"Gonna have to work you open," Bard grunted, his slippery fingers curling inside your cunt in a sinful squelch that sounded absurdly loud in the confined space of the elevator. "You're really too tight, don't wanna hurt you"

Thranduil watched the whole scene leaning at the railing, hands curled around the pole behind him as his hips twitched whenever you let out another whimper; your hands trying to get a hold on his husband's shoulders.

The ride was far too short, Bard's fingers not fast enough for you to reach another peak though the constant movement kept your head in such a nice empty mindless space that you didn't complain.

As soon as the doors opened Thranduil led the way, sauntering into the darkness illuminated by the first exploding fireworks. He pulled on the tie holding his hair up and flung it away let his hair flow down his back, ending just barely over his exquisite arse.

You didn't get to see much of the penthouse, all three of you were very eager to take this party finally somewhere comfortable and you only made out a giant white couch in front of a fireplace, an open kitchen with two glasses, one crystal with golden stains of whiskey, and the other high, the rim still dripping red wine, and a few bookshelves.

"You can get the full tour tomorrow," Bard said while you two kicked away your shoes, leaving them behind on the dark wooden parquet.

You stumbled over his left sneaker and halted in your tracks at the offer. While you had considered his promise of breakfast a spur-of-the-moment chit-chat, it now settled in your head that this wouldn't be like any one-nightstand you had in the past.

This observation only solidified as Bard caught your hand and raised it to press an open-mouthed kiss to your palm. "Do you need anything before we go into the bedroom? Any wishes or no-gos? Safeword?"

"Red," you immediately answered, and he nodded in acknowledgment, "and no, well– maybe hold me a bit afterward?" You blushed at the question though this should be the least embarrassing thing after all these two did to you in the span of a few hours. You continued to ramble, "And sometimes I cry, so.. you don't have to stop then. Sometimes I'm overwhelmed but you can continue your.. thing. Don't bother, I'll be fine on my own–"

Bard's eyebrows scrunched together the more you babbled, the look in his eyes becoming more confused until he shushed you with a quick kiss.

"Darlin', there is no need to explain what you want or don't want. If this is what you need then we won't question those demands," his eyes wandered over your face, making sure you were listening; which you were, heart pounding fast in your chest.

"And it's important you don't push yourself just because of us. It's not our intention to use you for a simple release. Thranduil and I don't take whoever is the first best, especially not to our home. We're looking for someone who suits us, with whom we feel completely comfortable and that should also be equally important to you."

You trusted them both, Bard as well as Thranduil.

The fact that Bard was asking you, nevertheless listening and responding to you was feeding something very primal.

They had done this before, unlike you. They had experience in this, but you were willing to learn, to submit yourself to these imposing men who surely would change something inside you forever.

The pride you felt at his admission of choosing you specifically mingled with the need to get this perfect man inside you quickly, especially now that he said such meaningful and reassuring words.

You nodded and croaked out a soft: "Alright, then please hold me after we're done" which he rewarded with another soft yet sensual kiss.

"Good girl"

Then his hands traveled south and slapped your ass so that your hips flew towards him.

"Now, let's not keep Thran waiting any longer. He tends to get a bit… impatient if left on his own for too long, as you've probably noticed."

Bratty.

You were so on the money earlier.

With that as well as the guess that the blonde was more kinky than the vanilla of his perfume.

At that moment the deep voice of his called out from down the hall.

"I swear, if you two started without me, I will fuck you until neither of you can walk for a week!"

Bard chuckled, then caught your widened eyes.

"He's joking," he said and you let out a relieved breath.

Bard pulled you along, a wink thrown over his shoulder.

"Mhm, partly; he won't fuck me tonight."

You needed a deep breather to ready yourself for what was about to happen, then you nearly tripped over your own feet as you raced after him through the dark hallway and to the only opened door.

You crashed fully into Bard, who for whatever reason, stood right in the doorframe of their bedroom.

"It seems Thranduil got tired of waiting," he chuckled and you wondered what he could mean when he turned sideways.

Your eyes instantly fell onto Thranduil, spread out on the enormous bed in the corner of the room– completely naked except for black, very tight boxers.

There was no air in your lungs, not a single breath left to take as you drank in the sight of him, fair and marble skin shining in the moonlight that fell through the big window next to the bed; the remaining glitter gave his body an unearthly glow. His hair fanned out all over the pillows, silver against grey, moving with him as he lazily lifted his head to stare at you.

There was an indescribable beauty in this man, he could lounge in the bed, his long legs opened in an invitation that you yearned to take, and his lean yet softly defined body posed as if he was waiting for someone to draw him.

"There you are," the corner of his mouth twitched into his smirk, "Strip"

His words, spoken in a gentle tone, boomed loud in your ears.

Your hands flew to your jeans in no second, though they were stopped by Bard, who covered them with his larger, rougher ones.

"No, Darlin', let me"

He stood behind you, taking over the job of undressing you. He did it much slower than you would have, not ripping everything apart in a hurry to obey the command of the blonde whose eyes were heavy on your body, taking in every bit of skin that got revealed.

Bard unbuttoned your jeans first, then his large and warm hands rubbed over your arms.

"Are you cold, sweetheart?"

You shook your head. "No, not cold. I– I feel like I'm burning up"

It was the truth, and nothing but the full, honest truth; you felt as hot as you did in the club, though the reason wasn't the hundreds of people and the alcohol but rather the sight of Thranduil, whose hands trailed over his own body and teasingly played with the waistband of his underwear.

Bard followed your fixated gaze to his coyly smiling husband.

"Should we turn down the heating? We would not want you melting away," Thranduil blinked his long lashes at you in faux-concern. He must've known the goosebumps covering your skin were his doing.

You would've rolled your eyes if you were able to look somewhere else than Thranduil. The man had to be magical, how else could you explain the spell he put you under if not for some supernatural powers?

"Stop the teasing, Thran," Bard cut in, slipping his hands under your shirt and kissing your shoulder. You melted into his touch, comforted that he took care of you like this when he continued, "This poor sweet thing hasn't even all her clothes off. It would be a shame to make her blush like this and not see it"

"Oh, and who's fault is that? Certainly not mine, I have been waiting so long I was close to wrapping things up myself"

Bard pulled your shirt over your head, covering your sight long enough for a wave of braveness to surge through you. "I sure hope you wrap it up," you said and heard both of them snicker.

"Do not worry," Thranduil began.

"There is enough protection for weeks," Bard finished and the band of your bra snapped against your skin.

Despite the warmness of the room your nipples puckered as soon as the lace fell away, growing hard under the avid eyes, cerulean and green, so different yet similar in the way both are dominated by the blackness of their pupils.

Bard's hands came up to your front and he cupped your breasts first tenderly, mapping out how perfectly they fit into his large palm, then rougher as his fingers found the hard buts of your nipples and rubbed them between them until every pinch had your legs trembling and you whimpering.

You cried out, body bucking on its own.

"Oh how nice," Thranduil's comment was full of sarcasm, followed by a click of his tongue against teeth, "Why, let me lay here and play all on your own, why not? After all, I am nothing but pure decoration"

Bard huffed a puff of hot air onto you, "Grow a pair of tits like this and maybe I will get to you first"

Thranduil's dark eyebrows raised to his hairline, passing an unspoken threat that had Bard scoff before he grabbed the waistband of your jeans. He pulled them down slowly, getting on his knees as he did and you were acutely aware of how wet your panties were when you feel his lips kiss your ass.

"This must be uncomfortable," he murmured, holding one leg to help you step out of the jeans. He kneaded your thigh, fingertips against muscles and flesh, before moving on to do the same on your other leg.

He used the moment where you lifted the second leg, to dive his hand to your cunt again, dragging his knuckles over the dark-colored patch, and he laughed as you buckled into the touch. "Oh, the fun we'll have"

Finally, undressed to your panties that cling to your crotch like a second skin, you were free to walk toward the bed. You would've lied if you said you didn't swing your hips a little bit, relishing the raspy groan this evoked from Bard.

Feeling like you should await further commands you stopped (un)patiently when your knees hit the mattress.

Thranduil's lips curved into a devilish smirk at this sign of submission.

He let his legs fall open wider, waving in an elegant gesture into the space in between. "Come here, sweetheart"

The bed was raised and you rose to your tiptoes and, making sure your eyes were trained on Thranduil, you crawled over the mattress, knees digging into the silk duvet he had promised you.

He reached out as soon as he could, one hand curving around your neck to pull and you landed directly on him, legs spread on either side of his thighs, hands somehow, despite their nervous trembling, found their place against his collarbones, standing out from his broad chest rather delicate.

Not that you hadn't suspected and expected him to be big, but, fuck, he was long and hard, a pulsing pressure against your stomach.

"Be a good girl and remove this unnecessary fabric, will you?" Thranduil whispered and you scrambled to lose your panties, throwing them off into the distance only to turn again and find him smirking. "I meant my boxers, but it fills me with joy seeing you this eager"

Lowering your head to hide your laughter, you grabbed his boxers. He lifted his hips just barely for you to pull on the black boxers, rolling them over his tight ass, and after giving you a loving pat on the head, he crossed his arms behind his head, relaxing into the pillows.

His cock sprung free from the containment of the tight boxers, twitching as it hit his abdomen and you felt your throat dry out.

Of course, he was smooth everywhere; not one bit of hair covering the flushed beauty of him.

You sat up, hands pushed into his flexing thighs, to take him all in. No one should look this perfect, this utterly ridiculously beautiful, right? There should be something on him, a scar, a mole, anything to prove he wasn't straight-up carved out of marble, but you found nothing.

You glared at him as you sat down a bit lower, ass in the air, and spit into your hand before you wrapped it around his cock. The sight of his size had your mouth water, and seeing how your fingers couldn't meet had your cunt clench around nothing.

No way any of their preparation had been enough for this intimidating masterpiece of Mother Nature's creation.

"Tell me, how is it fair that you are rich and have a dick like that?" you asked and just as Thranduil opened his pretty lips for probably another witty answer, you interrupted him by letting his cock slide over your tongue deep into your throat until you gagged around him.

Whatever he wanted to say was forgotten.

Instead, Thranduil groaned a low: "Fuck" and threw his head back.

You wanted to see him come undone, to unravel him until he lost this bratty attitude and reduce him to that wild behavior he had shown in the club.

You had the feeling that that's only possible if he thought he had the upper hand.

You bobbed your head, taking him a bit past what you could manage without gagging before lifting your head again.

"Use me," you said and his eyes flew open.

"What?"

Cocking your head, you shot him a confused look, while spreading his precum over the head of his cock with your thumb. "I said," – you spit again, mixing it and coating his dick further – "Fuck - my - mouth"

Every word was punctuated with a kiss to his slit, and you swore you could see his eyes darken further; black taking over blue – desire fought whatever held him back to fucking give into whatever you offered.

Behind you, Bard swore nearly breathlessly: "Fuck me" though you stayed focused on Thranduil.

"Are you sure?" his voice was raw, his facade of composure cracking ever so slightly.

"Wouldn't ask if I wasn't"

His hand was behind your head in seconds, drawing you down his cock again and you opened your mouth wide to not hurt him. He pushed you down until you choked on him and although your eyes watered, you couldn't take them away from the sight of his mouth and the low throaty groans that passed the opened lips.

The lack of air cut off your moan, the tip of his cock bullying the back of your throat just barely short of painful. Reminding yourself to breathe through your nose, you inhaled deeply.

"Good girl," Thranduil's hips bucked, pulling back until he was only half-lodged in your throat, "Just like that, fuck"

He gave an experimental thrust, keeping his sharp eyes on you, his hand in your neck, ready to stop if he saw any discomfort, but all you showed him was how you choked on spit and salty precum.

"Oh, you sweet girl. Behaving so well," his voice was ruined, and he thrusted again, punching away the little breath left in the tiniest space that wasn't occupied by his thick cock.

This was by far the first time you have ever given a blowjob, but it was a first to let someone use you like this. Controlling when you could suck or when you just had to take what he gave you.

And oh– how much you loved it.

So much that you wanted to rub your thighs together only to be stopped by rough hands grabbing them.

A confused sound left you, no more than a choked "Huh?" vibrating around Thranduils cock continuing to fuck into you, just like you had asked him, hindering you from turning to see what Bard was up to.

He didn't leave you wondering for long, just as Thranduil's thrusts took on a sharper edge, hitting the back of your throat every time, filling your mouth like no man ever had, Bard's flattened tongue licked through your exposed cunt and the moan you let out sounded so pornographic you surprised yourself.

"Do it again," Thranduil took in the sight of your wet lips, the drool dripping out of the corners of your mouth, his cock disappearing so deep inside you that felt him in your lungs, "Fuck, Bard, do that again now!–"

He talked for you, praising Bard as he licked your pussy again, this time using his fingers to pry you open further and there was the delicious scratch of his beard stubbles, burning on your skin.

You cried out, tried to do, stopped by Thranduils cock stuffing your mouth again and again, his hands curled around your neck as if he wanted to feel the imprint of himself pushing through.

"Prettiest woman out there," Thranduil groaned. His thump reached over to stuff some of the spit back into your mouth, opening your jaw up impossibly wide.

Bard's tongue was as precise as their fingers have been, covering your folds, fucking into your hole and sucking on your clit with expertise that no man should be allowed to have. Two of his wet fingers slid into you while his tongue mercilessly attacked your clit, the other hand buried itself in the soft flesh of your ass, kneading and pulling, opening you up further for his face.

"C'mon," his voice was muffled by your thighs, drowning you in his accent while he drowned his tongue inside your opening, circling the rim in maddening figures, "Give me one more, gorgeous."

Electricity flowed through your body, hot tingles of nothing but fire spreading into your fingertips wrapped around the inches of Thranduil's cock that didn't fit into your mouth, to your nipples that brushed against his muscular thighs.

"Fuck Bard, please–"

Not sure what you were begging for, for his tongue to stop the attack on your clit, for his fingers constantly finding that spot inside your spongy walls that had you wailing and rolling your hips into his face, or for him to get on with it and get you over that build-up.

Bard kept going, somehow finding a rhythm that matched the one his husband hammered down your throat and you were helplessly stuck trying to hold on.

Until you lost the fight to keep yourself upright. Your hands slipped on Thranduil's thighs, your body crashed down and if it wouldn't have been for his quick reaction of pulling himself out of you, you would for sure have impaled your head on his still hard and throbbing cock.

Instead, it just wetly slapped your face as you collapsed into his lap.

Bard's rough hands grip your thighs, blunt nails digging into soft flesh as he maneuvered your legs around to give his head more space.

The other pair of hands, soft, delicate, Thranduil's, cupped your face, lifting it gently yet demanding, giving him the perfect view of your cute face, all scrunched up as you gasped and mewled, and your backside, ass arched into the air under Bard's commanding hands.

"Such a beautiful thing," Thranduil mused.

His fingers danced over your cheeks until he used another whine, another desperate moan when Bard alternated between open-mouthed, sloppy kisses and using the point of his tongue, to slip his thumb into your mouth.

As soon as he did, you closed your lips around him. Staring up at him, begging him silently for a release only Bard could give you, you started sucking on his finger as you would have done on his cock if not for the stars dancing in your field of vision.

Thranduil tutted, "So needy as well. Bard, if you were so kind as to stop, I can not stand seeing her this distraught. I think you are working her up far too much"

"Nooo! Please, please, I'm alright, I'm– please, so close," The desperate scream that came out of your mouth at his words was probably loud enough to alert the neighbors, followed by a cry and sob as Bard kissed your clit one last time.

"Of course, babe" The words were muffled, spoken directly into your dripping cunt.

Which he then shuffled away from, beard stubble scratching you, his fingers letting loose on your thighs.

"No, no please, please," you were already babbling, reaching behind you in a sad effort to force him back between your legs, "Please, I'll be good, please!"

"You sweet thing," Thranduils arms wrapped around your middle, pulling you up into a kiss, "I think–" his voice dropped deeper and you heard the rustle of plastic, felt Bard's hand rolling the condom over Thranduil's cock pressing into your stomach, "–you have behaved so well, you deserve a reward"

You nodded fast, legs spread wide apart sitting on his thighs and your cunt stretched open.

Staring into his eyes, you saw how much his pupils were dilated, how he only watched you, only saw you.

You could see and feel his chest lift as his cock slid through your folds, finding you drenched from all their playing around.

"Eyes stay on me"

Your pussy was wet enough for the tip of his cock to slip right into you and right away you wanted to shut your eyes at the sensation of him spearing you open.

"Please–," you gasped, and tried to move your hips to get more of him into you than just those few inches, but he didn't budge, didn't loosen his grip on your waist, "Please, Thranduil. Green, my color is green, fuck me, I can take it!"

"Yes, and if not," his voice was back to the self-controlled powerful tone, "I'll make you take it, sweetheart."

Thranduil let go of you the second he snapped his hips upwards and suddenly, you were split open.

You keened as his cock sunk into you in one fast, swift, hard movement. There was a burn, in your thighs as you flexed them, in your throat as you cried out, in your pussy at the intrusion of his long cock.

When Thranduil bottomed out, his head shoved against your cervix, the whole length forcing you to stretch, to make room, and fuck you wanted your pussy to be carved into the shape of that perfect cock.

It should've been uncomfortable, but you only groaned as you appreciated the second he gave you to relax while making room where they shouldn't be some.

"Fuck–" he moaned, "you are tight, so fucking tight"

Bard moved next to you, and you could only get one short look at his naked body, the brown hair coating his muscular chest, the happy trail leading down to his thick cock, before Thranduil began to fuck you.

His strokes were fast, hips snapping into you and nearly throwing you off his lap at the speed and brute force and you fell into his chest, clinging to his arms.

This, him rutting into you like your pussy could quench a year-long thirst at a punishing pace, this was surely the epitome of getting fucked. How he knew how to fuck you just right, hitting your g-spot with every single thrust was a riddle you couldn't and wouldn't want to solve; not with his cock penetrating you hard enough you swore you felt him in your throat as you called for him through moans.

You had no chance of even trying to meet his thrusts, not while he pounded into you like a madman.

"F-Fuck, good fucking girl– so tight," Thranduil groaned out his gritted teeth, his face turning a beautiful shade of rosé, "Even tighter than you, Bard–"

Bard, you totally forgot he was even there, laughed and moved on the bed again, slipping back behind you, "Yeah? Tell me more"

And you wanted to scream, to yell at them to stop talking in words that only added to the overstimulation, that spun around your head without meaning because how could anything have ever any meaning more important that Thranduil's cock fucking you a little further, a little deeper.

"So tight, s-so hot, clamping down on me like this sweet, fuck, pussy doesn't want me to leave"

"Mhm, I can see that," Bard hummed and his hands caressed your shaking thighs, before leaving his mark on your ass with a soft slap that had you wailing into Thranduil's shoulder.

It was too much and not enough at the same time.

You were going to lose your mind like this, fucked to near-unconsciousness.

"More, I–" your speech was slurred, brain scrambled into loose words hanging onto thin threads.

You tried to hold on to Thranduil but it was impossible with your sweat and the glitter covering him.

Luckily for you, Bard found the time to stop ever kindly toying with the pearl of your clit to lean forward.

"Put them inside his hair, Darlin'. He doesn't mind" There was a lopsided smirk on his face that you could barely see out of the corners of your eyes.

You still hadn't stopped looking at Thranduil.

The attempt to tentatively guide your hands to his head was prevailed by another particular hard thrust, and your fingers slid through blonde locks, grabbing onto them as you fell back down on Thranduil's cock.

You tugged on them much harsher than intended.

Thranduil's eyes blew wide.

You wanted to apologize when his lips quivered and his hips snapped into yours even faster.

Quickly you reached for him again, nails scraping his scalp as you readjusted, gripping more, much tighter.

"That's it, Darlin'.. that's my girl," Bard leaned back, and not shortly after his fingers were back on your clit, tapping intact of Thranduil's thrusts.

It was only a matter of seconds until the pleasure became too much.

Thranduil's hips fell into a stutter as your walls clenched around him; even for someone with his stamina the heat of you surrounding him, and your sweet moans drove him into a raging need to imprint the shape of his cock inside you.

"F-fuck.. Thran–" you whimpered, hands fisting his hair, trying to get a literal grip as reality started to shift around you.

Outside, close to the windows, there was a whistle as the first of many fireworks greet the New Year and just as Thranduil pushed you over the edge, your whole body shaking and tensing up as you screamed his name, the darkness of the sky exploded into an arrangement of thousands of colors.

The white fuzziness that enveloped your vision transformed into creeping darkness at the edges.

Your eyelids closed shut as you descended into blissful oblivion.

When you came back to yourself, it was to the murmur of deep voices mixed into the loud bangs of fireworks.

For a moment you had no idea where you were, enveloped in a haziness inside your mind, but the gentle nudge of something against your lips forced you to open your eyes.

There were two faces very close to yours, was the first realization.

Then, following up, you let out a giggle.

"Don't look so concerned, I'm fine," you greedily took a sip from the water bottle that the very flushed blonde held in his hands.

"You said it was possible you would cry, not bloody pass out on Thran's dick!" Bard wiped the drops you couldn't swallow away from the corner of your mouth with one hand and continued to rub your thighs with his others.

You hadn't noticed they were still shaking.

"Yeah, that never happened before," you shot a smirk up to Thranduil, "Never had a guy fuck me like this as well"

He snorted into the bottle of water, "Believe me, I never had someone lose their consciousness on me before as well. I came shortly after you and when I opened my eyes to find you completely out of it I nearly passed out on the spot as well"

"Would have been quite a shock for you," you said and let your head fall to the side to look at Bard, "both of us orgasm into fainting"

"Not funny, Darlin'," Bard warned, though he laughed as you stuck his tongue out at him.

Stretching your hands over your head and raking them into the air until your bones cracked, you sighed happily. Blissfulness was all you felt after cumming harder than you ever had.

For the first time, you could really enjoy the sight of both men in the nude, you hadn't had the chance to appreciate how fit Bard was while Thranduil had fucked you and you reached out to run your hands over his chest. Twirling some of the hair on there, traveling lower to scratch nails down his happy trail like a route description straight to his still-hard cock.

Stopping shortly before his pubic hair, you glanced up at him, a coy smile playing your lips. "You haven't cum yet." It was much a purr as it was an invitation, your legs falling open right when Bard's hand came to a still on your thighs.

He shook his head, chestnut hair swaying with the movement. "No, Darlin', no! You just passed out. I won't force myself on you. Thran can suck me off or I'll take care of it myself if you want to rest"

Your heart contracted in adoration for this man, and an embarrassing amount of slick gushed out of you.

"Bard," you said, voice wavering as you suppressed a whimper. Somehow this turned you on even more, "Bard, there is enough time to be this caring later but please–" Once again you were begging, and the man wasn't even inside of you yet, "please fuck me"

On the other side of you, Thranduil chuckled, "Insatiable, I knew it. Bard is right though, if you are not well, then he can fuck me"

Slowly but surely you were losing your patience.

As sweet as their concern was, the fact that these two gods were both sitting naked in front of you, one sweaty because he just knocked you out, and the other hard as steel and flushed, only aroused that much more.

Without saying anything else, you maneuvered yourself in the bed until you could rest your head on Thranduil's stretched legs and angled your legs in an invitation.

"Come on you stud. It's the new year after all"

The brunette scanned you with a piercing gaze, you could see him struggling with himself, but the twitch of his cock told you what he'd decided before he nodded.

"Thran, condom please"

You giggled again, excitement and the need to be catapulted to new heights spreading warmly in your stomach.

As Bard put the condom on, you wiggled around, your hand on the move to beat time, but Thranduil reached over you.

He caught your wrist before you reached your center, grasping it with his much larger hand and pulling your arm back with him enough that it forced your shoulders up, a "Tze, tze, tze" admonishing the behavior.

"Impatient brat, make up your mind!" he hissed and tugged some more until you whined, "Feel free to use those pathetic little fingers, knowing they will never fill you the way Bard could" Now that Thranduil knew you were on the same page, his voice dropped into that rebuking tone that left you whining and pouting.

He was so good, so fucking mean in the right amount you never knew you needed a man to act in bed.

"I just wanted–"

"I know baby," he cooed, and patted your cheek, "you just need your cunt to be filled, right? Just need to be stuffed full. Bard will do that for you, no need to worry your pretty head about it"

"That's right, Darlin'," Bard shuffled in between your legs, hooking them both over his thighs as he leaned over you. His cock landed on your abdomen, pressing against your pulsating clit, "Tell me what you want," he grabed himself, guiding it slowly toward where you leaked for him, completely drenched from the orgasms they had already given to you.

"I can go slow, or I can go fast"

You contemplated for a moment and lift the free hand to stroke over his handsome face. His beard tickled the inside of your palm, the chestnut waves silky as the sheets.

"Slow," you whispered, "I want you slow first"

"Alright," he gently nudged his nose against yours before capturing your lips in a kiss.

Although you were still sensitive, still pulsing and throbbing due to Thranduil (who caressed your face and your neck, having let to of your hand to arrange the pillows in his back for more comfort), you relished the stretch and sting of Bard as he guided his cock into you.

He was thicker than Thranduil, not by much but that inch made itself known, splitting you open heavenly so. You gasped into the kiss, giving up the fight of tongues to swallow back the drool that collected the further Bard pushed inside you.

It's just a little bit, one inch at a time, but you cried out all the same.

The thrum of excitement pulses, leaves you trembling and begging in incoherent moans and whimpers.

You could feel him throbbing inside you.

"Good girl," Thranduil's praise washed over you, chilled fingers tweaking one of your nipples as a reward for the exhausted smile you gifted him at that, "Has anyone ever told you that you make just the sweetest sounds? Give me one more?"

He twisted your other nipple; you moaned again.

"Fuck, Thran, you were so right," Bard grunted, his fingernails digging into where he held you by the waist, leaving crescent moon-shaped imprints that you hoped wouldn't fade for a while, "She's fuckin' tight; how are you still this tight?"

"For you," you fisted your hands into his hair again, hoping he enjoyed it just as much as his husband, "J-just for you, everything, ngh– for you"

With one last push, he sheated himself in you completely, filling you up just like Thranduil told you he would, stretching your walls thin.

You felt him everywhere, in every part of your body.

Every nerve, every tendon, every cell burns and was lit aflame, sizzling hot fire licking your skin and bursting when he dragged himself out, leaving barely the tip and pushed back in.

His cock nestled deep inside you, Bard stilled.

There was a silent vigilance in his mesmerizing green eyes. "Talk to me beautiful, is this alright?"

You nodded and pulled him down on his hair into another kiss. "Yes, god, yes"

That's all he needed to hear and while licking over your lips, entangling your tongue with his playfully, he set a slow rhythm. Nevertheless the tempo, he brushed that spot inside you with every stroke.

Pins and needles all over your skin, goosebumps wherever Thranduil's fingers wandered.

There were more fireworks, lightening up the bedroom filled with gasps and grunts, whispers of encouragement and begging. The sound of Bard's hips snapping into yours, the wet squelch of his cock driving itself inside of your pussy again and again.

"There we go," he murmured and positioned his arms on either side of you, using the balance it gives him to roll his hips instead of just thrusting. Mumbling between kisses, he talked against your lips: "Aren't you just the sweetest? Darlin', I couln' believe my eyes when I saw you in that club, shining far brighter than anyone else"

He swallowed your gasps with kisses, nipping at your lip then moved to your earlobe, "You are so perfect, letting us fuck you like this"

In one swift movement, he dragged Thranduil towards him, long blonde hair curling at the edges hanging into your vision in a starlight waterfall. Their kiss left you breathless and you would have felt left out if Thranduil didn't lean down further to you, kissing your lips upside down.

This time it was his fingers that found your slick, poor and abused clit. A couple of firm circles had your hips bucking up to meet Thranduil's fingers, crying out for both men in a mix of their names.

You whimpered as the next orgasm build up fucking fast, your breath catching in your throat.

"Bard," your hips moved on their own, trying to get him to fuck you faster, "Please– more, I need m-more,"

"Darlin'," Bards forehead pressed against yours, his grunts strained as if he was holding back himself but kept the same and steady pace you asked him for, "You sure?"

Grabbing his hair again, you weaved your fingers through it, tousling it haphazardly, achieving nothing but adding to its wild appearance.

When you met his gaze again, his eyes were fixed on you, it felt electric and charged, akin to lightning, causing you to momentarily forget to breathe.

"Yes"

He obeyed instantly, with the next thrust you screamed at the pure force of it. Bard wa spiraling the same way you were, becoming erratic as his teeth grazed over your collarbone, biting every mark they have left on you.

Raising your legs to keep him close, your ankles locked behind his back, heels digging into the tight muscles of his ass. The new angle allowed him to drive impossibly deep, reaching pleasure points inside you you didn't knew existed before him.

The pleasure was blinding, high electricity running through your veins and into every part of your body and soul. This was nothing you have ever experienced before, not with anyone and they made sure it would never feel like this with anyone ever.

Bard, feeling how your walls clenched around him, fluttering and pulsating, begging him to stay inside, sucked on your nipple, hard.

"I need you to come, fuck. Let me feel this pussy come, I'm right there with you," he rasped, voice like gravel, leaving you to scream for him, head knocking into Thranduil's legs, who dared to add to the crescendo of your pleasure and pressed down on your clit.

You found yourself gripping the bed covers, fingers twisting, in an attempt to anchor yourself, sobbing and shaking.

Instead, the coil inside you snapped.

Soaking Bard's cock choking and sobbing, tears spilling out of the corners of your eyes as every limp of you tensed up, he pushed you over the edge, his moans in your ear the most erotic thing.

You felt Bard following you, felt him spilling inside the condom, his cock twitching inside of you as he reached his peak moaning and burying himself to the deepest point, hips flushed close against yours, still rolling and shoving into you.

Moments of silence and heavy breathing followed. Of broken sobs, hushed murmurs of praise, even more affirmations.

Thranduil scootched closer to you, laying down next to you while Bard's weight on top of you was just what you needed. The heaviness of his much larger frame and Thranduil's long arms wrapped around you held back the cold that threatened to take a hold of you as the shivers of pleasure subsided.

"Gods," Bard exhaled, chest moving, pressing more into you. "That was something"

"Happy New Year" Thranduil rumbled.

Minutes passed, more fireworks exploded, celebrations of the New Year while you weren't even sure you even knew what time was anymore.

Bard tried to move, though your legs must have cramped for they felt disconnected to your body.

"Darlin'," he dropped another kiss to your neck, laughing low as your head lolled to the side.

"Mhm-mhm," you groaned, eyes still shut close, "Stay"

His lips moved to your ear, continuing to bathe you in soft kisses that leave you floating in that blissful headspace. "I know, I know–"

Thranduil's hands cupped your face, caressing your glowing cheeks and wiped away the loose tears that rolled over them. "Aftercare first, then cuddling," he whispered and cradled your head, massaging the spot in your neck that started to ache after Bard had folded you in half.

Despite knowing he was right, that you needed to use the bathroom, the warmth their bodies provided held you back.

You whined, arching your back into Bard's chest as he pried your legs away and slowly pulled himself out of you, stopping when your hips twitched at the overstimulation and only continued after a soothing kiss.

As soon as he left to stand up, tying up the used condom and going into the ensuite bathroom, Thranduil's steady hands on your back helped you sit up on the edge of the bed, where he wrapped the covers around your shoulders and gently tapped your nose, before scratching his nails over your head.

"You did very well, sweetheart," One finger tipped your chin up. "Thank you, you are a wonderful partner."

Thranduil, crouched to your level in front of you, still naked as the day he was born, simply picked you up. Legs folded over one arm, your head fell against his glittery chest that was covered in red streaks of where your nails had scratched him.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up"

The afterglow of the very much fantastic sex lulled all three of you in a comfort that blurred the barriers of you being a stranger in their home, laughter and giggles as the shower washed away sweat and glitter.

While there was a liveness to massaging soap into hair, hands rubbing away soreness and splashing water around until the mirror was all but fogged up and steam filled the entire bathroom, the exhaustion of the night caught up close after Thranduil dressed you in one of Bard's large sweaters.

Smelling like wood shavings, pine and toothpaste, hair still damp and eyes dropping close even though you tried to stay awake, Thranduil carried you to the bed.

The sheets were changed, encasing you in laundry detergent and brushing against your naked legs as you let yourself be placed on the pillows.

Outside, the world still celebrated and you did as well, in your own way.

There was a shuffle, a murmur of voices, then the bed dipped on either side as Bard climbed to your right side and Thranduil to your left, leaving not much room between all of you, legs entangling with each other, more giggling until everyone lied down comfortably.

Face tugged under Bard's chin, one arm of his reaching over your head so that Thranduil could nestle his face into it and the blonde wrapped around your back, you were surrounded by something you couldn't put into words.

"Maybe– maybe you can stay for breakfast and lunch," Bard's low words were murmured with a deep sigh, his other hand sliding down under his sweater, resting just below where your heart sung contenly.

"And dinner," Thranduil added and you heard him kiss Bard's hand.

"No talky-talky," you snuggled your face deeper into Bard, nose bumping into his neck, "But I would like that, very much"

Just as you fell asleep, held tightly by them both, you could hear them exchange quiet I love you's and you smiled, feeling their love seep deep into your bones.

[erodasfishtacos]

~ MLB Curious Gazes ~

prompt: four different situations where people have run into or hung out with MLB!H - told from their perspective.

word: 6k +

warnings: language, mentions of sexual content

If you enjoyed this please - reblog, like, recommend, comment, and inbox me to chat about it!

please consider donating to my kofi - my work is FREE and it is a great way to show support!

enjoy!

-=-=-=-=-=-

The Doctor’s Office

Aubrey couldn’t believe her eyes as she sat in her uncomfortable, too small chair in the empty waiting room at the OBGYN office in the early hours of the morning. 

She was sitting alone with her baby boy sitting in his carrier on the floor - it was his nine month checkup and it was taking forever to be seen.

The woman was sitting, scrolling on her phone when out of her peripheral she saw an extremely - like extremely handsome man step into the area with a carrier.

Aubrey was a married woman but holy shit this guy was hot- without even trying is the thing. 

He had on a New York Yankees Nike hoodie and a pair of Nike athletic shorts with some calf length Blake Nike socks and trainers.

In the carrier was a fresh little baby, couldn’t be older than three months who was bundled up with a sunflower headband on.

The man was multitasking with a curly haired toddler on his other hip as he finds a seat a little bit down from Aubrey on the opposite side.

His wife was standing up at the check-in and of course it made sense that she was absolutely beautiful as well even though Aubrey could relate to how tired she looked.

The woman still had a small bit of her pregnancy bump left signifying that the baby was indeed very very new to the world.

She keeps glancing over at the man, he looks so familiar but she would remember if she had even met someone that handsome.

Then the context clues hit her, his hoodie, his toddler son was also in a little Yankees hoodie that matched his fathers and Aubrey googled quickly.

Her eyes flitted throughout the recent articles.

Styles’ Alleged $65 Million Dollar Bonus

Hot Head Harry Styles - how he managed to start three bench clearing brawls in one game!

Breaking Records and Bats - Styles manages to break his own record in the same season followed by breaking a bat in celebration

Holy shit.

She could help but watch them - this was much more interesting than reading a magazine.

Aubrey didn’t follow baseball but Harry had turned celebrity status and was this well known cocky dickhead to the media - women and men loved and drooled over him for his looks and his skills.

Right now, he sat down with his two babies - the boy looked exactly like Harry, it was quite unbelievable from the curly locks to mossy green eyes that was copy and paste.

Harry was currently tucking an applesauce pouch between his lips and guiding the boy's small hands to hold it for himself.

“Good job,  ,” He murmurs in the dead quiet waiting room as he tucks him further into the crook of his arm.

Harry looks up to his wife who joins them, she is a bit in awe when Aubrey sees him palm a bit at her bloated belly and whisper, “Y’look gorgeous today, mama.”

Aubrey couldn’t help but frown, she wished her husband did that.

YN sits down, leaning her head on his shoulder - Aubrey didn’t know her but she seems tired - of course she was a new mother.

The silence is broken when a nurse comes out and with an apologetic face says, “I’m sorry, we are running really behind today. It might be another thirty minutes,” before shutting the door again.

Harry kisses his wife’s forehead before wrapping his unoccupied arm around her shoulder, a flashing gold band on his ring finger.

Aubrey zones off for a little when her son wakes up, rocking the carrier a few times before he settles again.

She’s brought back to the couple when she hears a sniffle comes from Harry’s wife and his face turned towards hers, hand rubbing her shoulder reassuringly.

“Mama, she’s so healthy. There’s nothin’ to worry about, did a perfect job growing her in y’belly. I know these check-ups make you anxious but nothin’ is gonna be wrong,” He soothes, a near whisper because of how quiet the room is and he didn’t want to disrupt.

“I just don’t know if she’s been getting enough milk, it’s so hard to tell,” YN replies sadly, like she’s disappointed in herself.

“Y’kidding me? She’s our chunkiest baby - look at those little rolls. She’s on y’tits more than any of the boys including me,” He jokes softly, obviously trying to make her feel better.

It seems to work a little bit because she lets out a light giggle with a roll of her eyes, “No one is on them more than you.”

Harry shrugs unashamed before replying seriously, “Everything will be okay. She’s perfect and healthy.”

The curly haired little boy gets a bit squirmy with the wait after he finished his pouch, asking to be set down which his father does.

Harry is watching him carefully, his nervous but still adventurous little two and a half year old, as he toddles around the waiting room.

When he spots Aubrey and her carrier, he wanders over looking up her with wide curious eyes, he points at her son and squeaks, “Baby?”

Ever the diligent father, Harry is up and next to his son, Aubrey is a bit starstruck if she’s honest when he talks to her.

“M’sorry, he’s a curious little one,” Harry smiles at her, going to pick Ezra back up to guide him away from bothering her.

Aubrey waves her hand though, lifting the visor to show the sleeping baby, “Yeah, he’s a baby. That’s Dominic.”

The boy gazes at the baby before lisping, “Bry!”

Aubrey isn’t sure what he means but his father clarifies, “You’re right, Dominic is a baby just like your little sister Briar.”

“Okay,” Ezra shrugs and goes back to his mom to inform him of what he just discovered before crawling up and cuddling into her chest.

Harry nods, “Thanks for indulging him.”

“No pro-problem,” She stutters like an idiot and Harry smiles a bit like he knows but doesn’t say anything else before going back to his family.

A few minutes later when a high-pitched cry resounds through the room, Harry is carefully cradling his daughter who Aubrey notes looks nothing like him but like her mother even though her features were still so little.

“Shush, darlin’,” Harry coos with a soft drawl, leaning in to kiss at the newborn’s button nose.

Briar roots at her father’s chest, smacking her plump lips, and squeaking in frustration when she doesn’t find a nipple. It makes Harry chuckle before he glances at his wife and his smile falters a bit, “Sweetheart, did y’bring a bottle?”

Aubrey watches his wife shake her head, she is facing away from her so she can’t see her expression but gauging Harry’s it seems that she may be upset, “No, I completely forgot. I didn’t bring my nursing blanket either - I’m going to have to go the bathroom. M’being such a bad mom.”

The observer feels a pang in her chest, she can definitely relate to not always feeling like she is a good mother because of little mistakes she makes like forgetting diapers, buying the wrong formula, forgetting to bring a pacifier.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice is firm, “Y’not going to talk like that when s’the farthest thing from the truth. S’okay, we have four babies, we’re both goin’ t’forget things sometimes, okay? Here, let me help you.”

Aubrey wishes she had a husband who was as empowering, supportive of his wife.

He hands the whimpering baby over to his wife, he’s then tugging off his hoodie. Aubrey tries but fails to divert her eyes when his shirt rides up revealing  a glimpse of his taut abdomen and a light dusting of hair leading into his shorts, obscene tattoos covering his hipbones .

Harry maneuvers the hoodie over his wife’s shoulder, helping her tug down her loose shirt and nursing bra, and guiding his newborn to his wife’s breast until she latches and starts suckling hungrily.

“There y’go mama,” He whispers encouragingly before tugging Ezra back onto his lap to rock him a bit as he’s getting whiny - ready for a nap soon and not liking being in an unfamiliar place for too long.

-

Aubrey is buckling Dominic into his carseat when she spots the other family exiting the office. 

Harry’s wife looks much more relaxed, a smile on her face, and her arm tucked around her husband’s narrow hip, they’re parked close to each other, and Aubrey climbs into her small sedan - blasting the aircon.

She watches the parents strapp their kids into a massive, tinted and brand new cadillac escalade that was no doubt over a hundred thousand dollar car but who could expect them to be driving around a mid-level minivan?

After the kids are secured and they close the doors, Harry presses his wife up against it with his arm resting over her shoulder against the window. He is whispering to her, their mouths close before he ducks down to connect their lips.

His hand comes back to her deflating baby bump like he did in the doctor’s office, hand massaging the skin with adoration that was visible even to Aubrey as she sat in her car watching them.

Later on in the week, as she sits on her couch, a video pops up on her timeline. It’s a sports report she was about to skip until the name caught her attention. 

The sports reporter stated, “Harry Styles was fined an alleged sixty thousand dollars at last night’s game after getting into a verbal altercation when the second base man purposely tripped him.”

It flashes to the man she just saw in the doctor’s office in a form-fitting Yankee’s blue and white striped uniform with a helmet on as he ran at an impressive speed from first to second, stumbling when the baseman put out his foot.

Harry recovers quickly enough to touch the base to be considered safe. 

After that though, he’s pushing himself up and brushing off the dirt, then he’s charging towards the man who fucked up the play. 

He has no fear as he gets in the man’s face, veins on his neck standing out as he shouts. They don’t play the audio but you could tell Harry was cussing this man up and down.

It flashed back to the reporter speaking to another, “Nearly every team in the league reports that Styles is an absolute nightmare to play against from his skill to his downright arrogant and cocky attitude. He’s not someone I’d find myself wanting to hang around.”

“I agree with you there, Tucker. He has a right to be proud with all of his broken records and achievements but being a bit humble would do this man so good. I feel sorry for his wife and kids. He probably just spends all day bragging about himself.”

Aubrey clicks off the video, if only everyone in the world just saw the Harry Styles she saw just a few days ago - well they’d all change their minds on what kind of person he is. Especially what kind of husband and father.

--

The Charity Event

It was a charity event at Madison Square Garden in Time Square. 

It was for all Major League Baseball teams who had qualified for the playoffs and of course, The New York Yankees were there.

There were tables filling the whole stadium, extravagant in white linen tablecloths, multiple bars, and it was black tie dress code. 

It was a private event and it was not open to the public but after the dinner there would be awards given out and that would be broadcasted.

Nicole was there with her husband, Trent, the left outfielder with an average batting score. He wasn’t the most popular on the team by far - well everyone got outshined by Styles. 

She couldn’t help but be a little bitter that Harry had gotten a $60 million dollar bonus (the biggest bonus ever gifted but also the Yankees were not taking any chances at losing their star and their ultimate money-maker). Trent got a measly bonus of $100,000 which was nothing in baseball terms. 

The wives and girlfriends of the Yankees players did not like YN one bit. It really wasn’t fair because she was always lovely, kind, and friendly. It didn’t matter because they were all spurred on by jealousy of what she had.

Nicole couldn’t help by gaze at Harry as they sat at the same circle table towards the podium where the awards would be presented after dinner. He was in a sharp all black suit with a small team logo pin of the lapel.

She couldn’t deny how stunning YN looked in an absolutely stunning dress. It was a one-shoulder with sparkling black stripes against a tan background, it fit like a glove and accentuated her stunning legs with a high slit. ***

It blew Nicole’s basic black Gucci dress out of the water which made her even more infuriated at the woman. She knew she was being irrational and if she hated her so much, why couldn’t see stop staring at the couple?

Nicole could get away with it by looking past them at other tables but to be quite honest, the two were much too wrapped up in each other to be aware of any of their surroundings or people watching them.

Trent was off bullshitting with all the other players while the Styles’ sat at the table and Harry waited for people to approach him - like the cocky asshole that he was. He would give them a minute of his time before becoming visibly bored and returning his attention back to his wife.

As the appetizers arrived, Trent finally sat down with a grunt, giving his wife literally no attention as he dug into the salad like a slob. 

Across the table, Harry looked down at his plate, picked out all the tomatoes and stabbed them with his fork. He then brought his hand over to his wife who giggled and let him feed her the three little tomatoes for his salad.

“Don’t like tomatoes, Styles?” Henry, third-baseman, jokes as he watches him feed his wife without any shame.

“I love ‘em, m’missus just really like the little grape ones,” Harry shrugs casually - like that didn’t just sound like the most whipped thing that he could say.

Trent probably couldn’t even guess Nicole’s favorite color - let alone know something so minuscule like YN like the little tomatoes that come on house salads. 

Throughout the whole dinner, it was quite disgusting how infatuated these two were with each other - Harry had at least one hand on her body at one time - her thigh, shoulder, even cupping her neck in a way that was almost too intimate for the setting.

At one point, Harry notices that YN is a bit quiet - sipping on her glass of water and he pulls back from the conversation, murmuring, “Y’alright, mama?”

Nicole bites her lip hard at the cute pet name, feeling even more dislike towards YN - why couldn’t she have had someone like Harry?

“D’you think the babies are okay? Ezra’s been so anxious lately,” YN replies quietly, there were no phones allowed at the event and had to be left at home or at the door.

Harry kisses her temple, “Y’know Ezzie is good with m’mum, doesn’t get as anxious as he used to at sleepovers. Y’know East and Cash are probably on a sugar high.”

YN nods, agreeing and Harry jumps right back into the conversation but she notices that he keeps looking over at his wife to check on her.

Trent accidentally knocks her elbow hard and just grunts out a bland, “Sorry.”

The topic changed to traveling for games. Ellie, another wife of a player who was nice to YN were chatting about how stressful it is.

“I know, loading all three boys up is rough when we do decide to travel to games with H,” YN says to Ellie, a small smile on her face.

“Ugh, I know. Lily and Parker are the worst flyers! They usually end up throwing up or not being able to nap at all,” Ellie groans about her two little ones she has back at home.

YN let’s out a laugh that just irked Nicole to not end.

“It's going to be even harder when we have more kids,” YN laments like she’s bothered.

“Oh? More kids?” Ellie squeaks with excitement, clapping her hands together.

Nicole reaches a breaking point, jumping into the chat,“Really? More kids? Don’t you think you should focus on the ones you have? Or do you think because your husband makes an unfair amount of money, you can just have as many as you want? Hire nannies and act like you take care of them?”

Before YN frowns, about to respond when Harry interjects with a booming, displeased voice, “First off, why don’t y’mind your own fuckin’ business. My wife and I can ‘ave any many kids as we want, last time I checked.”

He continues with tense posture, all of his previous calmness disappears, “Second off, don’t take it out on my wife tha’ your husband got a shit bonus, we all know tha’ why y’pissy. And don’t act like y’dont have a nanny for your one kid while we don’t nor ever will have one.”

Nicole sneers, “You’re a cocky bastard.”

Harry smiles in faux charm, “Of course I am, dear. I’ve got a fucking beautiful wife, three healthy babies, the most records broken in history, and the fattest bank account in this room.”

“Alright, alright,” Trent interrupts and it doesn’t go unnoticed that he doesn’t defend his wife. Instead he shoots Harry an apologetic look for his wife’s behaviors.

Harry just scoffs at the couple, rudely rolling his eyes, and tugging his wife in for a kiss that’s a bit too intense but he can’t help himself, smiles against her lips when his wife pinches his thigh playfully.

He says (not quietly at all), “All these women are jealous of you, hm? S’cause you’re so beautiful and such a fuckin’ catch.”

Nicole feel a sharp pang in her chest at the indirect comment - fucking asshole.

Deep down, Nicole is unfavorably realizing that somehow YN has it all - a loving husband, who is seemingly head over heels four her, three well-behaved children, and everything she could ever want - sitting on Harry’s $600 million dollar net worth, on top of being gorgeous.

She didn’t have that. Trent and her were on the rocks constantly, has definitely cheated on her, their kid is a literal nightmare, and they’re both so reckless with money they have no savings.

It made her jealous to see Harry whispering in YN ear to make her giggle- lips brushing her ear, his hand splayed across her bumcheek while they waited for drinks at the bar, she even hears them murmur ‘I love yous’ at least twice.

Then the lights dim, spotlight on a podium in the front of the room, an older man in a crisp navy suit taking the stage.

“It is an honor for me to announce ‘Player of the Year.’ The decision by the board of Major League Baseball wasn’t a hard one. The statistics and records broke continuously by the man has led us to only one option.”

Everyone watches all the other players in room deflate a bit because they realize the award is going to Harry yet again.

 “He is again breaking a record tonight, he is the first player to earn this achievement four years in a row. The duality of this man when it comes to pitching a curveball or hitting a homer is truly remarkable.”

It makes all the players even more irritated than they already are when they look over at Harry who’s sitting back, manspreading, hand on the back of his wife’s neck gently, and a cocky, unbothered grin.

Like this award wasn’t the biggest accomplishment he could earn.

One of the players from an opposing team at a different table mutters to one of his teammates, “Fucking arrogant asshole. The only thing this award does is feed his gigantic ego.” 

“Such a douchebag,” The other agrees, jealousy tinges his voice.

“I’ve most likely made it obvious who the the recipient is this year. The New York Yankees pitcher with the most strikeouts to date and top-scoring hitter - Mr. Harry Styles!”

The crowd erupts in applause, whistles, and a standing ovation because despite his unsavory demeanor - no one could deny he was a legend.

Before he gets up, Nicole watches as he cups his wife’s cheek - locking her lips in a kiss before she has to give him a playful shove when he tries to slip some tongue.

When Harry gets up to the stage, he shakes the hand of the announcer and takes the award from him, setting it on the podium.

“Fourth year in a row has a nice ring to it,” Harry gives the crowd a dazzling white smile that have his dimples digging into his cheek.

The crowd whistles and coos.

Nicole notices YN getting teary-eyed as she watches her husband accept the award.

“I want t’thank a few people tonight. I want t’thank m’wife and the mama of my babies - YN. She’s supported me from when I was in college with no other career path but baseball, unsure of if I’d fail or not, she stuck through it.”

She can sense everyone’s eyes dart over to YN who is still staring up at her husband - who is giving her a gleaming smile right back.

“We’ve been through some really hard obstacles in our first years as a couple but she’s the reason for all this - the fact that she always believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself.”

The audience is respectful, quiet as he publicly tells a story of his deep love for his wife.

“I want t’thank m’three babies. Easton, Cash, and Ezra. They inspire me to be a better better man and a good role model - even though I think y’all agree they won’t be if they watch too much how I play when I’m out in the field.”

The crowd erupts in laughter at Harry poking fun at his own antics that he’s most famous for. He goes on to thank the team, coaches, Nike, everyone on the professional side of career.

When he’s done, everyone stands back up to congratulate him, patting him on the back as he returns to his seat.

Nicole watches as Harry sits back down, chuckling as he swipes a tear off his wife’s cheek, “Why y’crying, mama?”  

“I’m just so proud of you. Everything you do for me and our babies. The best husband, best daddy. My heart is just full,” She murmurs, clearly not meant for others to hear but Nicole was eavesdropping.

Harry’s eyes darken with something Nicole can’t identify but does notice his hand creeping a bit further up her thigh.

He leans into whisper something into her ear before she sees his lightly nip at her lobe before pulling back to join into the conversation.

-

After the lights come back up, Trent abandons her to go shoot the shit with other guys.

When she trails off to the bathroom, down a long hallway from the main area - she hears a rustling from behind a door labeled with a plaque that says ‘executive meeting room’.

Nicole pauses confused, all these offices and other rooms were strictly off limits during events obviously. She was confused to hear someone in a room that was not supposed to be in use.

Then she realizes it’s not just someone - it’s two people.

“S’good, sweetheart. Give it t’me so good.”

And she knows right then and there all she needs to know about who’s in that conference room and what they were doing.

“Be quiet, you’re being too loud,” YN scolds back, the walls were clearly thin because she could hear the exchange.

“Make y’cunt not feel like heaven then,” He remarks back, his voice slower and more soft than it would be in front of people.

God, Trent and her haven’t slept together in ages - let alone has spontaneous hookups or dirty talk like that ever.

When they all end up back at the table before the closing speech for the night, Nicole spots a nicely sized mark under Harry’s jaw that he’s wearing with pride.

YN had her lipstick wiped off and was much more clingy as the night rolled on which Harry seemed to thrive on.

As she and Trent are on their way home, Nicole speaks into their silence, “I don’t think our relationship is working.”

Not after she saw love and happiness at that event table tonight - she wanted that kind of love not settling for some cheating asshole.

-

The Little League Game

It was a cool autumn evening, it was an important game - if you could call it that for the little league team that Kayla had her son on.

The goal was to determine which team would move onto the playoffs, even though most of this was all in good fun because it was for eight-year-olds and it wasn’t serious.

Kayla couldn’t lie and say that she didn’t spend some of the time curiously gazing at the New York Yankees player who would come to watch his son play.

He wasn’t at every game due to his schedule but it seemed like he came to whatever ones he could with his wife and other three kids.

They had taken the bench on the bleachers right below her so she had an up close and personal view of the family when they’ve never sat this close before.

As the kids warmed up, Harry had his youngest son who looked to be about four sit next to him, squished between his dad and mom happily.

Their middle son was next to his mom on the other side, looking to be about six, and he was wriggling impatiently in his seat - eager to join the other kids in the jungle gym.

The baby girl who looked about a year and a half old didn’t look anything like her brothers - it was obvious that she was a spitting image of her mother (who was stunning).

She was curled up in her mom’s lap, asleep with her face squished against her mother’s chest - a pacifier suckling fiercely between her puffy lips.

“Mama, please,” The curly haired boy begs with greedy puppy dog eyes as he keeps glancing back to look at the other kids.

“You stay right where daddy and I can see you, yes?” YN murmurs, brushing back his unruly curls that where getting long, “And what are our rules?”

“Stay where you can see, don��t talk to strangers, and be nice to others,” He recites perfectly, Kayla was a bit blown away by his manners.

She watches baseball. It was hard to believe their children were so mild mannered when their father was the exact opposite - at least on the field.

Harry was rustling in the diaper bag for something as his son looked at him with wide, concerned eyes, “My baby, daddy.”

“I know, Ezzie. M’lookin’ f’your baby,” His father replies softly, the polar extreme of his normal brash, crude language that had a nasty tone like he couldn’t bother giving people the time of day.

“Daddy, please,” The youngest whines, his little hand grasping at his father’s tattooed wrist as he gets to his knees to help his dad look.

“Left inner pocket,” YN murmurs offhandedly as she makes sure Cash gets to the playground safely with his friends.

“Say ‘thanks mama’,” Harry coos to his son as he manages to tug out the baby doll and hand it to the awaiting little boy.

“Thanks mama,” He replies instantly with a gapped smile as he nuzzles right back into his father’s side as if he can’t get close enough.

“How are you feeling, Ezra?” His mother leans over to ask, keeping the baby close to her chest.

“M’happy, mama,” Ezra replies simply before starting to babble to himself as he plays with the babydoll.

Kayla watches Harry and YN swap a fond look at their son but she couldn’t help but wonder why they asked him that? He seemed fine so why did they feel the need to do that?

The game is going okay, Harry stands up to cheer and whistle when Easton hits a two-base hit but YN smacks his thigh and motions to their sleeping baby.

He looks at her sheepishly before sitting back down, kissing her cheek in apology, and peeking down into the fleece blanket to watch his daughter sleep for a moment.

Then it seems like Easton starts to lose momentum after he pitches two home-runs, his face pinched in disappointment as the other team scores but Harry is attempting to keep him motivated with encouraging shouts.

Easton struggles from then on, he strikes out for his final three turns, doesn’t catch two pop-ups, and his pitches start to get a little shaky. It’s obvious in his facial expression he’s getting upset because he’s breathing heavier like he’s trying not to cry.

Kayla feels a sense of dread for the little boy, his father who’s the best baseball player in modern day history is watching his son not do well during an important game.

 Because of what she knows of him from his temper and attitude on the field - she worries that he’s one of those father’s who will hound their kid for doing poorly.

“Oh, c’mon East,” Harry murmurs softly when his son stumbles over a ground ball before another kid picks it up and throws it in - their son smacking his glove down against the ground in frustration.

“He’s getting himself worked up,” YN notes as she watches her oldest kick his cleats in the dirt with a quivering bottom lip.

“I know,” Harry replies to his wife, “Wish he wouldn’t, he’s gettin’ upset out there, I can tell.”

“Sad?” Ezra squeaks, clambering onto his father’s lap and stating, “Hold me, daddy.”

Harry obliges easily, gathering up his small son before his attention is directed back onto the game - it was down to the last few minutes and unfortunately Easton pitched a ball that resulted in a home run for the other team.

“Fuck,” Harry mutters, running a hand through his messy locks before he’s setting Ezra back down on the bleachers, “I’m going to go talk to him. Do you want to meet back home?”

YN nods, leaning down to tuck the baby into the double stroller before buckling Ezra in as well, “I’m going to go get Cash and head out. Why don’t you take him out for some ice cream? I love you.”

“I love you too, mama,” He replies, kissing her softly before kissing both of his kids foreheads and stepping down the bleachers - ignoring all the adults who are staring at him with a starstruck expression as he heads to the dugout.

It cleared out fast, nobody sticking around after the loss that ended with them not continuing on to the championship, and Easton was sat on the bench - he was stoic and there was a hard, angry expression on his face that reminded Kayla of what she saw Harry look like when he played.

As she gathers up her son and makes sure he’s got all of his equipment, Kayla stands and chats to a few of the moms before she’s heading to her car - which happened to be parked next to a sleek Masserati crossover, who would let their muddy kid go in there? Rich people, she guesses.***

Kayla pops the trunk to her van with her key as they get closer, she notices that Harry also has his up and Easton is sitting on the tailgate with his eyes looking down at the pavement. She tries not to appear as nosey or eavesdropping as she tucks her items into the back.

“Sweetheart, s’okay. Y’did so so good tonight,” Harry assures his pouty son, he squats down to start to untie his son’s nike cleats but continues to make eye contact with him. 

“No, I didn’t, Daddy!” Easton whines, tears finally starting to bubble over the surface as he begins to sob with a shuddering chest, “I gave up home runs and then I missed ground balls!”

“Whoa, bubby,” Harry simpers after he tugs off the shoes and throws them carelessly into the back before standing up, “Y’did amazing, are you kiddin’? You did three innings of strikeouts, hit two of y’own homeruns. Y’played like a professional, way better than daddy.”

Kayla’s heart aches a bit when she sees Harry sit down next to him before hugging him harshly into his side, thumbing at the tears that are running down his son’s sweaty cheeks with soft reassurances.

“Daddy, are you mad I didn’t win?” Easton asks shakily, keeping his head buried into his father’s side and his small hand clutching into the fabric of his hoodie.

Harry chuckles lowly, “Daddy would never be mad at you f’anythin’, definitely not a baseball game. Remember what mama and I said? If at any point y’want to stop playin’, just let us know and we can find something else, yeah? Just like how Ezzie does art classes.”

Easton seems to calm down after a few moments of Harry rocking him and reassuring him of what an amazing son he is.

As Kayla drove away that night, her perspective on the all-star baseball player definitely changed. It was refreshing to see someone to not hold their child to an unreasonable expectation just like she thought Harry would.

--

The Campfire

Austin was the shortstop on the baseball team, he’d brought along his girlfriend, Chelsea, to the frat party to celebrate another win.

Everyone was in whispers that Harry was bringing his new girlfriend but nobody knew who she actually was because it was just a rumor.

It was surprising because Harry wasn’t a relationship kind-of man. He wasn’t into hookups much - always said he needed to focus on baseball.

Many of his teammates were envious of how many girls were constantly coming up to Harry at parties to flirt and try to get a dance in but he had always rejected them.

Harry had never showed interest in any of these girls at the parties, never seen him disappear upstairs with one or really entertain a conversation over a beer like they’d expect.

Chelsea pokes his shoulder and nods towards the entrance when Harry walks in with his arm around YN’s shoulder.

Most were in a little shock because they seemed like such an unlikely couple - YN had written some scathing articles about him and it was no secret he hadn’t been a fan of her.

“Holy shit, Harry’s dating YN?” Chelsea whispers to Austin as the group of party-goers cheer and whistle at the allstars appearance.

“Guess so,” Austin replies with a shrug, tugging Chelsea into the kitchen for a drink.

Later on that night, there’s a bonfire on one side of the backyard and a volleyball net on the other where a group was gathering to play.

Austin and Chelsea are on the opposing team of Harry and YN - she can’t help but watch them with curiosity because of what a surprise it is that they’re dating.

Even Austin has been watching because Harry’s acting in a way that he’s never seen throughout his time on the team with him.

Harry is just all over YN which was confusing how he went from not being remotely interested in the college girls to being a lovestruck puppy.

When she throws the ball up to serve, Harry reaches over and pinches her bum which makes her squeak and accidentally drop the ball which has him cackling as she glares at him.

As they change positions, he crowds up behind her, and massages her hips, leaning down to murmuring something in her ear.

She blushes wildly before smacking him off which has him laughing hard and kissing the back of her head before taking his position.

After Harry jumps and spikes the ball hard, earning them the winning point, YN turns around and wraps her arms around him to hug him tightly.

Harry wraps his arms around her shoulders, returning the hug before pulling back to kiss her lips in a soft peck.

Chelsea elbows Austin, “Who’s that and what did they do with Harry?”

Austin shakes his head, “I really don’t fucking know.”

The group migrates over to the fire as they might become cooler and the stars are high up in the sky, the fire flickering orange and yellow crackles of sparks.

Harry plops into a chair, pulling YN right onto his lap, and she wriggles until she’s comfortable. Chelsea notices him tap her thigh as if telling her to cut it out, too much motion right on his crotch.

Jake, one of his teammates, says in a teasing tone, “YN, I’m surprised to see you around these parts . I clearly remember a strongly worded article about how stupid frat parties are.”

YN takes it in stride, smiling as she replies, “And this party just proves my point.”

The group laughs easily, they enjoy YN’s sharp wit and comebacks as they get to know her. Austin can’t help but to notice how quiet Harry is.

Normally, he’s the life of the party, loud and making his presence known to everyone but not tonight. He has his chin propped on her shoulder and she’s cuddled back into his chest.

Austin can’t make out what Harry is saying but he’s constantly whispering in her ear and accentuating each time with a squeeze to her thighs.

“Are you guys official?” One of the teammates asked bluntly, a few beers deep by this point in the night.

Harry replies instantly, a possessive squeeze, “She’s mine and off the market, s’don’t even think about it.”

“Well I don’t think it matters because she’s turned down the whole baseball team by this point. I think everyone tried to ask her out at least once,” Steve jokes as the others agree.

“Tha’s m’girl,” Harry murmurs to her before teasing his friends,“Who’d want to go out with any you? You’re all dickheads.”

Everyone continues to joke around, it’s nearing midnight and that’s right about when Harry gets in his prime - like the party just started.

But not tonight.

YN’s eyes start to flutter shut as everyone banters and drinks around the fire, obviously not used to these late night parties.

“I better get this one t’bed,” Harry states after a few minutes, thumbing at YN’s cheekbone as she tries to stay awake.

“I’m okay,” She mumbles weakly, head still heavy against his shoulder.

“You’re coming back though, right?” Kyle asks expectantly, brows furrowed.

Harry shakes his head, “Nah, m’in for the night when she is.”

All the players look at him with a bit of a dumbfounded look, Steve shooting out, “Who knew you’d be so pussy whipped, Styles?”

Chelsea’s eyebrows raise at the crude comment, waiting with bated breath as Harry’s jaw clenches as it seems like he’s biting his tongue.

“Goodnight,” Harry says in a tone Austin has never heard before - agitated and almost…offended.

When Austin and Chelsea are sneaking up to his room for a late night hook-up, she overhears Harry and YN in his bedroom.

At first, she thinks they’re in an actual argument but as she listens to them - it’s not the kind of arguement she thought it was.

“You’re always the little spoon,” YN groans from behind the closed door.

Harry squawks, affronted before huffing back at her, “S’my favorite, please spoon me, darling?”

“You’re so fucking spoiled,” YN giggles as Chelsea assumes they move into a position where Harry’s the little spoon.

“Mm, I like feelin’ y’tits against my back, s’nice,” Harry hums with a boyish tone.

Chelsea doesn’t even realize she’s smiling until Austin drags her from her stupor. 

All she knew was that Harry Styles really really fancied that school reporter.

-=-=-=-=-=-

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[firesoulstuff]

Hi! I'm not sure if you're doing prompts or not, but if so, would you be interested in doing, "Someone's clingy today" for Captain Canary? Hope you're doing well!

Do I have a mess of other prompts in my inbox that I simply never answered for whatever reasons?

Do I have a multi-chapter story to finish?

Did this ask hit me with an idea for some fluff that I have desperately been missing in my own writing lately?

All of the above are true.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17590397/chapters/91051456

Sara smiles to herself as she enters the galley and is greeted by the sight of Leonard behind the stovetop flipping pancakes with one hand, his other keeping their three-year-old secure on his hip.

“Hey.” She says, but when Leonard is the only one of the two who picks his head up to look at her, her smile falters just a bit.

Normally she’d chalk it up to Rory just being tired. It’s still early, and she slept in their bed last night so obviously she didn’t get a full night’s rest. Except she doesn’t normally sleep in their bed. Overall, Rory is pretty good about staying in her own bed throughout the night. Sometimes she’ll come in and wake them up with tears and a story about a nightmare, then maybe stay the rest of the night. But last night she didn’t do that. Last night she simply came into their room dragging her Beebo by the arm, crawled over Sara without a word, and slept. Sara had tried to ask, but Rory had simply sniffled and fallen asleep. She figured it must have been a nightmare Rory was too tired to want to talk about.

“Someone’s clingy today.” She comments, laying her hand on Rory’s back and playing with the ends of her hair.

“Well…” Len drawls, shrugging his shoulder and prompting Rory to finally turn her head over. “I think someone’s getting sick.”

Sure enough Rory’s face is flush, and there is a smear of runny boogers across her upper lip and on Leonard’s shirt.

“Uh oh.” Sara says, because that certainly seems to be the case.

That sniffle last night hadn’t been tears, it’d been this. A runny nose, and maybe a bit of crankiness for the late hour. It certainly explains why she crawled into their bed.

Rory, for being a fairly independent child, clings like a baby koala when she’s sick. She wants her parents. All. The. Time. Sometimes she’s picky about which of them she gets, sometimes she’s too tired or not-yet sick enough to care, but it will come. The last time she was sick Len had to go on an overnight mission, and Sara had to take her shower with Rory in there with her, crying the whole time about how she wanted daddy.

Len’s raised eyebrow lets her know he is thinking very much along the same lines as her; about how the next few days are going to be hell and if they don’t want a sick team on top of it all, they better break into Ray’s sanitation cabinet soon.

“Come here baby.” Sara coos, sliding her hands to her daughter’s sides, and when she isn’t met with shouts or tears she takes it as permission and lifts Rory from Leonard into her arms. “Let’s get you into some clean pajamas.”

Rory grunts, this miserable little noise that makes Sara’s heart clench. Her pajamas are hot and damp to the touch. If she can, Sara will try and get her into either the shower or a bath.

She walks down the hall and back to the barracks with Rory in her arms. On her way she passes by Nate, who is all smiles until he catches sight of her frown and so she stops.

“Someone caught a bug.” She warns, her voice low, and she sees the fear creep into his eyes. He’s seen Rory sick before, he knows how bad she can be.

“Fever?” He asks, ever practical. Colds are bad on the ship, but all fevers warrant a trip to the med bay to rule out any truly concerning germs.

“Feels warm.” She answers, “I’ll have Gideon check her after she’s changed.” Nate nods, then continues on his way, and hopefully he’ll warn anyone he comes across of the situation.

Getting to Rory’s room Sara shifts her daughter into one arm so she can scan the door open and closed behind her. Now, navigating Rory’s bedroom is like navigating a messy battlefield on a good day; between all her toys and her laundry scattered about the floor. But navigating her room with her attached to her front? She may as well be navigating a messy battlefield while holding a bomb. Any other day this would be another comment to her daughter that she needs to clean up, but today when Sara trips over a discarded slipper she bites her tongue.

Once she’s successfully made it to the bed she deposits Rory onto the mattress, and Rory whimpers in protest when she steps away.

“I’m right here babe.” She promises, moving across the room to the dresser.

Rory whines, this is certainly going to be a fun time.

With a frown on her face as she thinks about that, Sara selects a set of white long-johns with little kittens printed on them. They’ll keep her warm, and they’re thin enough that Rory won’t try and change out of them thinking they’re the cause of her fever like she might with some fluffier pjs.

She grabs some slipper-socks too, and then turns back to take in the sight of her daughter.

Rory’s still sitting slumped on the bed, a puss on her face and wiping her nose with the cuff of her sleeve.

“Ok.” Sara says, “I’m gonna have you take a shower before you get changed, ok? Then we’ll have Gideon give you scan.”

“But I took a bath last night…” Rory trails off with a cough, and Sara can’t help but to wince at how hoarse her voice sounds.

“It’ll help you feel better.” She reasons, “Come on. It’ll be a quick shower, you’ll get a scan, then you can have some of the pancakes daddy’s making.”

Rory groans, apparently still unconvinced, and that’s really a testament to how sick she is. If she isn’t excited about the promise of pancakes, she really is sick.

It’s a lot more whining involved, but eventually Sara is able to get Rory showered, changed, and into the med chair. Gideon diagnoses her with a run of the mill flu, a strain Rory’s immune system is perfectly equipped to handle. That’s good, at least they don’t need to worry about putting the whole ship under quarantine.

Getting food in her turns out to be a project. She doesn’t want anything to do with Leonard’s pancakes or any other solid food for that matter. They finally convince her to eat a cup of applesauce, and that will have to do for breakfast.

At least their missions have been slow lately. They have some things to research, but for the most part it’s been quiet. Which is good, because for the next two days Sara’s world consists of measuring out cough medicine, checking Rory’s fever, and switching on and off with Leonard whose turn it is to sit with their ailing daughter.

Right now, it’s her turn.

She has her arms loaded with temporal maps and books to keep herself occupied while Rory lies there groaning and watching movies. They’ve decided to let her set up sick-camp in their room, that way there is room on the bed for one of them to sit with work spread out.

Or, apparently, to nap.

She enters the bedroom and the lights are on, the screen on the far wall has We’re Back playing, and Rory is half hanging off the bed open mouth snoring while Len is curled on his side next to her.

Sara smiles to herself and sets her work aside on the dresser. She slips her phone out to take a picture, then pockets it again. She approaches the bed and carefully slips her hands under Rory’s armpits, dragging her to the right so she can be completely on the mattress. Rory’s snore seems to come out as a startled cough as she’s moved, and Sara holds her breath, not yet daring to remove her hands. Soon, her daughter closes her mouth, and tries to roll to her side - towards Len this time – and so Sara moves that hand to her forehead.

Her head is sweaty, her blonde hair sticky with moisture on the under layer, but her skin feels cooler than it had this morning. Good, that means her fever broke. If they’re lucky they’ll only be dealing with sniffles by this time tomorrow.

Eyeing Leonard, Sara realizes he hasn’t woken yet, and she frowns. His defenses have learned by now that she is not a threat, that he doesn’t need to jolt awake soon as she enters the bedroom.

That said, she doesn’t normally loom over the bed like this.

She feels his forehead too, and though the crinkles his brow and blinks his eyes open, she still has her hand there long enough to feel the heat coming off him.

She’ll need to keep an eye on him. Rory is bad enough, but Leonard Snart is a downright nightmare when he’s sick.

“Can I help you?” He asks as she takes her hand back, or tries to anyway, he grabs it and stops her.

She hums, and against her better judgement decides to not get into her concerns over him, not yet anyway.

“How’s she doing?” She asks, glancing down to Rory.

He shifts, up on his elbow, still not letting go of her with his other hand.

“Fell asleep ten minutes into the movie.” He answers, and then he lays back down, tugging lightly, insistently, on her arm. “Took me another five.”

She laughs, and is careful while climbing over Rory; the last thing she wants is to wake her.

Maybe that’s why she climbs onto Leonard, lying plastered on top of him with her head on his chest and their hands still intertwined.

“She ate some toast.” He says as she settles in, and she hums against him.

She reaches out with the hand he isn’t holding, her fingers dancing lazily among the frizzy ends of Rory’s hair.

“Good.” She comments, “I’ll try and get her to eat some soup tonight.”

“Ok.” Len agrees through a yawn, and that’s that. The only sound then is the movie, and Rory’s congested snores. Eventually Sara drifts off, one hand still in Leonard’s and the other in Rory’s hair.

No wonder a week later she wakes up with a fever.

[clubyukhei]

wayv react series: tiktok couple pranks

ten, sicheng, yukhei, dejun, kunhang, yangyang

genre: suggestive fluff

a/n: this has 1.4k words which is... way longer than planned :’) i had a bit too much fun writing this lol. enjoy

[to:🐻] [sent: 9:30PM]

you might think i'm crazy

the way i've been cravin

if i put it quite plainly

just gimme them babies

“you okay, kun-ge?” 

“i am. why would i not be?” 

“you look… tense.”

“i’m fine, sicheng.”

the exchange makes you bite the inside of your cheek. you bite down on it hard and will yourself not to smile — but it’s so hard not to. especially when you catch the look of mild annoyance on your boyfriend’s face. the way he’s trying so hard to play it cool. 

so you glue your eyes to your phone and scroll through your inbox, pretending to be occupied. pretending you have no idea what’s going on. 

“oh. okay.” sicheng replies meekly, moving to the kitchen where kunhang and ten were opening a few tubs of ice cream.

to no one’s surprise, the conversation ends there. nobody ever questions kun after they hear that tone of authority in his voice — but maybe, you’ll be the first to. 

the night started out like any other movie night at the members’ dorms. as per usual, dinner was settled over multiple deliveries from their go-to food spots. but everything changed after yangyang left the dining table as soon as he was done eating.

“yangyang.” kun called out with a rather strict tone, his voice echoing throughout the apartment. 

“yeah?” the youngest member yelled from his room.

“come here.” 

you weren’t new to the responsible and occasionally hard-headed side of your boyfriend. it was pretty normal for you to see him nag at the members for being untidy at home and occasionally, for not behaving professionally when they were outside. 

after all, he was the leader of six boys who stressed him out on a regular basis — one of whom was the same age as him, yet regularly participated in the mischief with the others.

but this time was different. you never heard him speak like that before, never even seen the look of seriousness on his face that was intimidating even to you, an innocent bystander witnessing all of this. 

you didn’t want to admit it at first, but his voice, which was stern and commanding and had the youngest member scattering back into the kitchen in seconds, turned you on like no other.

everyone else minded their own business as kun eyed the spot on the dining table that had been covered in tiny puddles of soup. not a single word was uttered but yangyang, whose eyes kept flickering between the mess he had created and the leader’s jaded gaze, quickly grabbed a wet cloth from the sink and got to cleaning. 

you were parched just watching the scene unfold. you and kun had only started dating a few months ago and you were still learning new things about him, but this was truly something else. a pleasant surprise, if you could call it that.

kun has always been a sweet and reliable man in your eyes, and still is. but you’ve never pushed his buttons or experienced the side of him you saw this evening. the side where he uses that tone. preferably when the two of you are alone, when every word that leaves his lips is heavy with authority and dominance that you find yourself listen to every instruction he gives you, like getting on your knees—

“_____?”

you look up from your phone to see ten staring back at you from the kitchen counter, waiting for an answer. shit. you definitely did not catch what he asked. out of all times to fantasise about your boyfriend… 

dejun, who’s sitting on the floor in front of you and searching for a movie on netflix, turns around. “he asked if you wanted mint chocolate or strawberry.”

“mint chocolate is absolutely disgusting.” yukhei comments, accentuating the last word with abhorrence. the tall boy plops onto the ground next to dejun with a small bowl of strawberry ice cream in one hand.

“oh.” you hum. “strawberry it is. thanks, ten.”

your phone vibrates the second you finish your sentence, frightening you just a bit. when you see the latest notification on your lock screen, a familiar rush of excitement washes over you again. 

[from:🐻] [sent: 9:50PM]

😡

you chuckle to yourself quietly at his reply before taking in the look on his face. his hair, dyed light brown just a few days ago, falls over his forehead and almost hides his eyes — but you don’t miss the way he’s staring at you with an eyebrow raised confidently, as if daring you to continue whatever you were doing.

it’s too much. you find your cheeks flushing a little and you quickly look back to your phone, rereading your conversation with him.

[to:🐻] [sent: 9:30PM]

you might think i'm crazy

the way i've been cravin

if i put it quite plainly

just gimme them babies

[from:🐻] [sent: 9:33PM]

?

[to:🐻] [sent: 9:35PM]

baby you might need a seatbelt when i ride it

i’ma leave it open like a door

come inside it 

even though I'm wifey, you can hit it like a side chick

😙

can you stay up all night? 

fuck me till the daylight 

34+35

[from:🐻] [sent: 9:45PM]

?!?!?!?!?!

[to:🐻] [sent: 9:49PM]

means i wanna 69 with you 🙄

“what are you smiling at, _____? is it those tiktok pranks again? i was telling yangyang the other day that we should handle our tiktok page ourselves. i mean manager hyungs will never allow that of course, but right now we’re not even doing the cool stuff…” 

as yukhei blabbers on, you watch your boyfriend get up from the armchair he had been curled up on and make his way to his room. that’s your cue to leave. 

“make way for the ice cream truck!” kunhang sings as he carefully sets a tray of small bowls, all filled with scoops of green and pink coloured ice cream, onto the coffee table.

“actually yukhei, you can have my ice cream.” you say, getting on your feet.

“really? thanks!” yukhei smiles as kunhang lets out a loud “huh”. 

“wait, are you guys not joining us anymore? we’re watching harry potter tonight!” dejun yells. 

“again?” ten sighs. as you walk down the hallway, you hear him whine about something along the lines of watching another movie for once. 

your hand reaches for the handle of the door to kun’s bedroom, but it swings open and an equally shocked yangyang rushes out as if he wasn’t supposed to be there — even though it was his bedroom too.

you step into the quiet room, shutting the door behind you before turning around to the sight of kun sitting on the edge of his bed relaxedly, his palms flat against the mattress and his legs spread a bit further than usual. there’s that look on his face again.

“hey.” you say softly, not sure how to read him. 

“really?” kun lets out a tiny chuckle. 

“what?”

“don’t act all innocent now.” he whines. “you were asking me to hit it like a side chick, baby. and 34 35, whatever that means.”

you burst into laughter. “it means we should 69. or do i have to explain what that means as well?” 

“god.”

“i’ll let you do anything to me. and i’ll do anything for you.” 

kun groans, running a hand through his hair. that image alone makes you want to rip the white t-shirt off him and to pounce onto him. 

there are a lot of filthy things you want him to do to you. for now, you’ll have to settle for less.

“this is a really sudden, baby. but i’m not complaining.” 

the grin on your face softens into a smirk as you saunter over to him, casually lowering your knees by his sides and planting yourself in his lap. someday he’ll find out what sparked all of this, but not today.

“i said a lot of things, you know. where should we start?” 

he stares back at you incredulously — and yet, his hands are kneading the inside of your thighs. just as he’s about to reply, a bunch of knocks on the door steals both of your attention.

“are y’all joining us or not?” 

it’s ten, who already sounds tired from being surrounded by his younger brothers. 

“we’ll join you guys a bit! go ahead and start without us.” kun shouts.

you turn back to smile at him suggestively, resting your arms on his shoulders and gently massaging the nape of his neck. when he plants wet kisses along your collarbones and up to your jaw, you sigh in satisfaction.

“let’s start by locking the door.”

[thequeenkrys15]

His Woman

This fic is dedicated to Miss Nadia, aka @flamediel​​

First off, I would like to apologize to you Queen, because this took much longer than I imagined, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

About a month ago, Miss Nadia underwent a lot of unnecessary hate for no reason. Really all hate is unnecessary, but it was hate nonetheless. I would like to remind everyone who reads this fic that it there is never a good reason to be malicious to someone, and that it is always better to spread positivity. In my eyes, we are all kings and queens and should treat each other as such. 

Miss Nadia, please know that to me, you are awesome. You are amazing, and marvelous and every positive word in the dictionary in every language. You are a queen, an empress a GODDESS, and if anyone tells you differently they can kick rocks because they’re peasants and queens don’t have time for peasants. And if no one has said it today, I LOVE YOU! And so does this man right here!

Pairing: Zabdiel de Jesus x Nadia!Reader

Word Count: 2950

Warnings: Slight Angst, Smut, 18+, minors DNI, protected sex (no glove, no love), fondling, fingering, oral (female receiving), fluff, and google translated spanish

Without further adeu, Miss Nadia sweetie, enjoy!

Dating a musician was hard for anyone, especially when that musician was in a famous band like Nadia’s man. CNCO was often doing promo and concerts, sometimes it was hard to find time. And it didn’t help that the two of them were in a long-distance relationship. Some of the guys trying to hit on her in Cairo were so rude. And Nadia could only imagine all the women making themselves look “too available” for Zabdiel. But alas, he always made sure to silence her insecurities. “You’re the only one for me, Nadia, mi amol”, he would say in that thick Puerto Rican accent that always made her swoon. They always Facetimed each other every day and flew out to see each other when they could. They say time apart makes the heart grow fonder, then the two of them must be infatuated, because Nadia and Zabdiel were in love.

           Time seemed to align perfectly for Zabdiel and Nadia. CNCO got some vacation time to relax, and Nadia saved up enough sick days and vacation days two get a whole two months of paid leave. How would the two choose to spend this newfound time? Why with each other of course! Zabdiel put everything in motion the second he knew she was coming. He wanted this time off to be stress free and be filled with love and romance for his woman, Nadia. The next two months were about to be the best she has ever had.

           After getting off the plane in Miami, Nadia was overrun with happiness and joy, and just in a few moments, she would see the love of her life. As she approached Baggage Claim, it’s like the world stopped. Zabdiel had been searching for Nadia for the past 15 minutes, and once his eyes locked with hers, a huge smile spread across his face. It started as a sprint, and then a full-blown dash as they ran to each other. When the two finally had their arms wrapped around each other, a wash of calm and clarity overcame them both. This felt right, this felt like love.

“Hola mi amol, estoy tan feliz de que estés aqui”, he whispered into her ear.

“I missed you so much, baby”, Nadia cried into his shoulder happily.

           Zabdiel and Nadia broke apart after a few more minutes, wiping their eyes and walking hand in hand, grabbing her suitcases, and striding out of the airport. The two headed to his car and put the bags in the trunk. Zabdiel opened the door for his woman, and the two of them climbed in and started their ride home.

“Te amo mi cariño”, he kissed her hand.

“And I love you”, she said sweetly.

Nadia knew that these next two months were going to be a blast.

 Time Jump

             These two months were going nothing like Nadia thought it would. Don’t get her wrong, Zabdiel was treating her like a queen in every sense of the word, from feeding her fruit, to afternoon massages, to late night lovin! When it came to Zabdiel, Nadia was on cloud nine, but it was something else that was bringing her down more than usual: the fans. Now in the beginning, the CNCOwners were ecstatic about the relationship Nadia had blossomed with Zabdiel, and for the most part, they still are. There are positive messages in her inbox from the fans all the time, and they always lift her spirits when she’s down. But lately, somethings been off with them, or at least some of them. It started when Nadia was giving weekly updates to the fans about what Mr. de Jesús was up to. Even though the band was on break, he still did somethings band-related, like producing music. Sometimes when he’s in his element, she likes to get a video of him because she knows the fans would love the content. Or when you catch him doing something cute like playing with Appa, she knew the fans would swoon. Even though most of the fans were showing her love, some were showing her hate. Like HATE, hate. Like hate to the point where they were telling her to kill herself. Like, who does that? At first, she didn’t pay them any mind, because of course there were always the nay-sayers. But the comments started getting worst, like to the point where they were making her cry. She couldn’t believe there were people like this on the internet. She tried to keep this from Zabdiel as long as she could, this time was supposed to be about them, not some asshats that were trying to bring her spirits down. But of course, Zabdiel knew his woman way too well for her to keep a secret like this.

           Zabdiel had just got home from a dinner run when he walked in and noticed the apartment was eerily silent.

“¡Nadia, estoy en casa!” he shouted through the home to place her. She didn’t respond.

           He placed the food in the refrigerator and went in search of his girlfriend, finally finding her in the bedroom.

“Nena, ¿me has oído? Why didn’t you respond?”

           He turned her around in the bed, just to find she was crying her eyes out.

“¿Por que estás llorando? What happened?”

           Still trying to save face, Nadia pushed it aside to change the subject.

“Everything’s fine honey. What did you get to eat?” She was totally lying in his face, and Zabdiel was not having it.

           Before Zabdiel could ask again what had her in distress, her phone lit up with a notification, and before she could redirect his attention, he snatched her phone away.

“What is this, Nadia?” he tapped on the notification.

“It’s nothing Zab. Please don’t open---”

           But it was too late. He had opened it, and what he saw made him bubble with anger. Countless negative comments on her social media degrading her, berating her, calling her names and how she was worthless. One he scrolled past literally told her to kill herself. Are they serious? He could not believe that his so called “fans” were the ones harassing her like this. Oh, he was going to put a stop to this once and for all.

“¿Por cuánto tiempo ha estado sucediendo esto?” he asked in sorrow.

“Zabdiel, please.” She just wanted to forget about it, but he wouldn’t budge.

“How long, Nadia.” His tone was firmer, and because she knew he wasn’t going to leave it alone, she conceded.

“A few weeks.” She sighed. He huffed in frustration but spoke to her in a soft tone.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked in curiosity, not understanding why she would keep something like this from him.

“Because I didn’t want you to worry, okay? This time together was supposed to be about us, not some mean fans. I just shouldn’t have let it get to me so much.”

           At the sound of her blaming herself for this nonsense, Zabdiel wrapped Nadia up in the tightest hug he could muster, quieting her claims.

“Escúchame mi amol. None of this your fault, and I am sorry this has happened. Those are not my fans; they are just evil people with nothing better to do. I’m gonna put a stop to this in the morning.”

Nadia tried to protest, but he shushed her concerns, leaving no room for discussion. He kissed her forehead.

“If this happens again nena, you have to tell me so I can fix it. I can’t help if you don’t let me. Okay?” he held her face in his hands as she nodded, showing she understood.

           He kissed her lips tenderly, savoring the taste of her. It started off slow, but the kiss grew hungrier, more primal than anything before. His tongue slid into her mouth, dancing around each other, until Nadia’s tongue gave in to his, accepting his dominance.

“I’m gonna make you forget all about them hermosa” he whispered into her ear.

           He laid her down on the bed as he began to kiss under her jaw, moving toward her neck and shoulder juncture, suckling her pulse point. She moaned, knowing that tonight was going to be a long one. His hands held her waist, as he slid her shirt up, exposing her stomach. He kissed and nipped along the sides her tummy, forcing her shirt up. He pulled away for a split second, finally pulling her shirt off, getting frustrated with the fabric. He was mesmerized by the way her breasts looked in her black bra; he was practically salivating at the mouth.

“Eres exquisita” he leaned down to kiss her neckline, traveling to her cleavage, nipping at the rise of her left boob, and then the right.

“You have too many clothes on” Nadia said as she slid her hands under his shirt, desperate to feel him as he was feeling her.

           He pulled away to get his shirt off, as Nadia threw her bra across the room. Zabdiel was back on her in seconds, sucking her left nipple into his mouth while he fondled the right breast in his huge hand. His warm mouth was doing wonders for her body, and all the pleasure she felt was shot straight to her core. He kissed the valley in between her breasts and down her stomach, knowing exactly where he was headed. Undoing her zipper, he worked her pants off her body and tossed them to the side of the bed, leaving her in her black underwear. He sniffed between her legs, nuzzling her nub which sent a jolt up her spine.

“Hueles dulce” he sighed as he pulled her panties off her body, leaving her bare.

           He pulled her legs over his shoulders, gripped her thighs, and licked a long stripe up from her slit to her pearl, making her gasp.

“But you taste even sweeter.” Zabdiel was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

           If there was one thing people knew about Zabdiel, it was that he had an oral fixation. He always had something in his mouth, whether it was gum, a lollipop, or in this case, her pussy. And he was an expert with his tongue, knowing just where to lick to get his woman stimulated. He licked in between her lips, just so she could get a feel for him. He then licked at her clit, drawing her favorite star pattern, sending her to another galaxy. Nadia was a moaning mess, her hand flew to where his head was, physically telling him not to move an inch. But Zabdiel wouldn’t dare, he was enjoying this just as much as she was. Knowing that it was him causing his woman so much pleasure, made him painfully hard in his pants. But his woman had to cum first.

“Do you want more, my love?” Nadia was gasping for air, nodding her head frantically, but that wasn’t enough for him.

“Usa tus palabras, hermosa” he breathed into her core as he licked down her slit.

“Yes! Baby please, I need more!” she begged, desperate to chase her high.

           Zabdiel inserted his middle finger into her hot channel, and then his index, massaging her inner walls. He found that one spot inside her that made her back arch, hips rising off the bed. This action made Nadia’s eyes roll in the back of her head; she was gripping the sheets for dear life, whining. She was so close, he just needed to say it. And he knew it too.

“It’s okay nena, I got you. Dale” he sucked her pearl into his mouth, hard.

           That one word and one action, lit her body on fire. Her orgasm was explosive, mind and body in the clouds, she didn’t think she would ever come down. Zabdiel worked her through her orgasm until she returned to earth, drinking up everything she had to give him. He sat up, and peering at his face he looked like a glazed donut. He hopped off the bed for a split second, getting his pants and boxers off in one push. Nadia would have had to seen it a thousand times, but she will never get tired of seeing just how magnificent Zabdiel’s penis was. She reached out to grasp it, but Zabdiel pushed her hand away, leaning over her.

“No nena, tonight is about you. Relájate” he said as he nestled in between her thighs.

           He kissed her first, slow and sensual, pouring out all his emotions in one action. He leaned over to the side to grab a condom out of the night drawer. Once he put the condom on, he lined himself up at her entrance, and ever the gentleman, he peered up at her to make sure she was okay. Holding on to his biceps, she nodded, and he eased the head of his cock into her tight channel, taking the breath out of both of their lungs.

“Carajo nena. Eres tan apretada” he gasped into her ear.

           Once fully seated, he took a minute to let her adjust. No matter how many times they’ve had sex together, his girth always took her by surprise. Zabdiel could feel Nadia hips moving slightly against his, signaling him to move. He drew back his hips all the way, leaving only the tip in to tease her, then he slammed himself back in, to the hilt. His thrusts were slow, making love to her through his actions.

“Eres perfecta” he whispered into her ear as he kissed her neck.

She felt euphoric in every sense of the word; not only was he making her feel good physically, he was also making her feel good emotionally. Every stroke he took pulled all the negative comments out of her mind and replaced them with deep and utter bliss. She was on cloud nine, but she needed to get to the moon. She wanted to forget, and Zabdiel was the only way how.

“Faster, Papi” she pleaded, begging him to take her pain away.

           It was like a switch flipped inside his head. Nadia knew if she wanted a different side of Zabdiel, a more aggressive side, that was the one word that would do the trick. “Domdiel” appeared in a matter of seconds, gripping her hips harder, and his strokes started matching the speed of a jackhammer. Nadia felt him everywhere, from her neck down to her core. She knew there would be bruises in the morning, but she didn’t care, all that mattered was this moment right now.

“Papi, I’m close!” She held on to him for dear life, nails running down his back so hard they almost broke skin.

           Zabdiel was in the same boat, as his thrusts were starting to lose their rhythm. He reached down between her legs, drawing a nice figure eight on her bundle of nerves, sure that it will help her reach a final high.

“Cum for me, Nadia.”

           That was all it took. Her body arched and convulsed off the bed. She screamed out in pleasure as her orgasm washed over her. A white-hot light flooded the back of her eyes, leaving her in a state of pure ecstasy. Zabdiel wasn’t far behind, getting three more pumps in before he stilled, spilling himself into the rubber. He collapsed onto her, but she didn’t mind, welcoming the warmth. After a few seconds Zabdiel got up and retreated to the bathroom to throw away the rubber. He returned to Nadia with a washcloth in hand, leaning down to clean her up, being mindful that she was still very sensitive. When he was finished, he tossed the rag into the laundry hamper, and crawled into bed, snuggling up to his woman.

“Te amo, mi vida” he whispered as he drifted off to slumber.

“Te amo, mi cariño” she said back as sleep overcame her.

           In that moment, Nadia felt at peace. Not anger, not sadness, just simple peace.

Time Jump

           When morning came, Nadia found herself in bed, alone. Finding Zabdiel’s discarded shirt, she slipped it on and made her way to the living room, in search of her boyfriend. The sight that she came across almost made her cry. Zabdiel was on the couch with his phone in hand, going completely off on the fans that were spewing hate towards her. He said that he was disappointed and angry that some of his so-called “fans” would go so far as to hurt his woman intentionally. He also said that true fans would want to see him happy, and that if they were real fans, they would either show you two some love, or just simply be quiet. He saw Nadia out of the corner of his eye and decided to end the video there.

“Ahora si me disculpas, voy a salir con mi mujer.”

           He motioned for her to come sit with him, so she did. He placed her on his lap and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know. I could have gotten over it.” She said as she leaned against his chest.

“You shouldn’t have to. Tú eres mi mujer, and I’m not gonna tolerate any disrespect, no matter who it’s from.” He kissed her on her forehead.

           The two stayed like that for a moment, just basking in the peaceful silence, until Nadia spoke up.

“So the day has just started, what do you want to do?” She looked into his eyes.

“How about my woman decides for today?” He gave his signature dimple-filled smile.

“Your woman? I like the sound of that!” She cheesed as they hugged each other tightly.

           Yeah, their relationship was hard sometimes, but being his woman, makes it all worthwhile.

[oh-my-may]

Bokuto, Kuroo and Oikawa confessing to their crush who wears glasses

requested: hi omg im new to this thing,, may i request an hc of bokuto, oikawa, and kuroo where the reader always wears eyeglasses and one day takes them off? Then they get curious as to how far the reader can see their faces clearly until they're just inches away from each other, and it suddenly turns into a confession? HDJSHA tbh i see the 3 as the most flirty ones who'd do that but if you have others in mind, i'd still be very happy to read them!! Thank you so much ❤ 

First of all this is such a creative idea I love it and enjoyed writing it! Second of all I had to completely rewrite Bokuto and Kuroo because Tumblr deleted the draft and??? Honestly I don’t deserve this

Also requests are open! I finished everything that was sitting in my inbox so give me more!

Bokuto Kotaro:

You’ve been friends with him for quite a while and at school you always spend lunch together, you would sometimes come to practice and you’d let him rant about volleyball and what else, but you never left that ‘friends’ state, even though everyone around you knew you had a crush on each other (oblivious babies~)

Anyways he would constantly comment on your glasses and tease you about it? “How much can you see without them, Y/N? Are you blind?” “Do you think I’d look good with them? Let me try them on~” etc etc

So one day at lunch you would take them off because your head hurts a little. You rub your eyes and then lay your head on the table for some peace and quiet. But it didn’t last long.

Bokuto found you just moments after and saw your glasses laying around unsupervised. He took them and then took the place opposite to you. “Y/N-chan, can you see me~?”

You look up at him and perk an eyebrow. He was moving his head from left to right (like in the gif) and looked at you with widened, expectant eyes. “I am short-sighted Bokuto, so no, I can’t. I can see it’s you because of your hair but everything else is absolutely blurred.”

He pouts and gets a little closer. “And now.” You tilted your head a little. “It’s getting better. I can see your huge owl eyes.”

Bokuto smiled and came even closer, leaning over the table now. “How about now?”, he said, but his voice was trailing off a little. It was as if he was looking at you for the first time. Now that he was this close to you he was reminded of his crush and he was glad you couldn’t quite make out all features of his face yet, because a rosy blush found its way to his cheeks as he smiled conspirationally. “Getting better.”, you answer. “Are you blushing?”, you ask immediately after, noticing the pink tint of his cheeks.

He immediately sits back a little, trying to hide the blush. “Let’s go on a date.”, he says instead of answering and now you were the one to start blushing. “W-What?”

Bokuto puts your glasses on and looks at you as if he was thinking very deeply about something. “How about Friday? After my game? We could go and eat something.”

You gulp but nod, your face still feeling hot like hell. “Of course, I’d love to.” Because how could anyone ever say no to Bokuto? Especially when he was looking this good with your glasses on?

Kuroo Testuro:

You’ve been friends since Middle School and became basically inseperable in High School. You joined the volleyball team as the manager so you guys could spend more time together and when he became captain in his 3rd year - Mom and Dad of the volleyball team, aaw

In Middle School you never gave it a second thought but as you got into High School you noticed how your heart jumped  a little when he looked at you directly, how your breath hitched when he smiled at you or how your guts twisted when you saw some other girl flirting with him.

Little did you know he did all that to subtly flirt with you and make you jealous to finally get a reaction out of you, but it never worked and he got frustrated. So one day after practice, when it was just the two of you in the gym cleaning up, he took his opportunity.

He came up behind you and snatched your glasses, before sprinting to the other end of the gym so you wouldn’t catch him. “Kuroo! What are you doing?”, you confusedly shout across the big empty hall. He stops and raises your glasses into the air. “I wanna test your eyesight! Can you see me?” You cross your arms across your chest. “This is pointless Kuroo! You already now that I am long-sighted so yes, I can very well see you!”

So he comes closer. “How many fingers am I holding up?” “Two.” “Great job!” He comes closer. “And now?” “Five.” And so it went on for some time until he was only a few feet away and it started to become blurry. “Uhm... Four? No wait, Three! Is it three?” He shakes his head in disappointment. “No, it was Four.” You still didn’t get why he was doing this but when he was getting closer until your bodys almost touched you suddenly couldn’t complain anymore.

“And what about now?”, he asks, quieter than before. When the air leaves his mouth you can feel it brush against your skin and you can’t help but shiver. “I can barely see you.”, you whisper and blush so hard that your cheeks could resemble tomatos. You felt hot all over and when Kuroo lifted his hand and touched your cheek you could feel his fingertips shaking. “A pity.”, he murmurs before his lips touch yours in the lightest way ever. Your completely black out and forget how to move for solid 5 seconds before you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him even closer.

By the time he leans back again you’re both breathless and silence fills the gym until you begin laughing and you say: “The next time we kiss I wanna see your face though.”

Oikawa Tooru:

You met in High School and kinda hit it off as friends since the beginning. You were walking past the gym and one of his balls hit you and you got so mad at him and yelled 5 minutes about who he thinks he is and everyone is just *amazed*

Since then you’ve always been the one that kept him on his toes, so that he wouldn’t get too self-centred and grew a giant ego because of his fangirls. You helped each other through relationships and break ups but after his last break up in his 3rd year something felt different.

And you felt it too, but neither of you really wanted to face reality so you kinda avoided each other for a while, thinking your feelings were something that developed in the heat of the moment and would be over after you wouldn’t see each other.

Anyways today you were at the library studying. It was Friday evening and you were basically alone until Oikawa suddenly showed up and sat down opposite of you. “Y/N-chan! You’re wearing your glasses! It#s been a while since I’ve seen you with them~”, he casually begins and grins at you. He was right. Normally you wore contacts because you thought you looked better with them, but today you didn’t feel like putting them in. “It’s more comfortable.”, you shrug, still trying to avoid his gaze.

But he just reaches for you and takes your glasses and you snap up. “Tooru! No, I need them!” “Really? Are you really blind without them?” He puts them on and looks amazed. “Woah, Y/N, you never told me that your eyesight was actually this bad.” You grunt. “Tooru, please just give them back.” But he just shakes his head and gets up. He walks over to a book shelf and asks. “How clearly can you see me?” “I can see the color of your clothes.”

He starts laughing. “That’s insane! Y/N you’re like a mole!” He walks to the table you were sitting on and sits on the far end of it. “And now?” “Still nothing new. Except that your annoying face is nearer.” He moves across the room a couple more times, until he suddenly stops and walks satright over to you, a sly smirk on his face that you can’t see.

“What are you doing?” But he doesn’t answer. Instead he places his hands on the table right in front of you and leans closer to you. “Can you still not see me? Or my feelings for you? Or your feelings to me? Or will you stay blind forever?”

You can’t even say anything before his lips capture yours and you couldn’t care less about whether he has your glasses or not, or if he’s been your friend for the last 3 years. You’re not gonna be blind from now on.

[key201303]

You had to admit you were more than happy to go to their dorm and spend some time with them. Not only because you would be able to spend more time with the boy that have been making you feel like a teenager falling in love for the first time but because you would get to finally meet face to face the other 6 boys that have stolen your time and heart with their stupid comments.

Even though you were scared of what that girl was capable of, you didn't want that fear stopped you from enjoying your time with those 7 boys that started like annoying asses you hated and now were the reason why you smiled every morning when you saw their dumb messages.

A car beeping at your front door knocked you out of your bubble, noticing how fast time went by since you las messaged Xiaojun. "Hello Ms. Wong." A man you guessed was their manager greeted you as he got off the car to help you with your bag. You guessed he, for some reason, expected you to bring more luggage by his surprised expression when he saw you dragging a small bag. "Xiaojun said you would stay for the week." The manager said as you got into the car. You felt your cheeks blush at the thought of Xiaojun assuming you were staying with them for the entire week.

The ride made you feel sleepy, the soft rain tapping the dark windows of the car, creating a perfect and rhythmic sound that almost lulled you to sleep.

But before you could fall asleep, the car was pulling into the parking lot and Xiaojun was waiting for you wearing a pretty funny white shirt with a kid holding an ice-cream printed on it. "Beautiful shirt." You mocked him as you walked towards him. "If I knew you would like it I would have worn it the first time we met." He said laughing and pulling you into a tight hug.

"I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL KILL YOU TONIGHT IF YOU KEEP SCREAMING." You heard Ten from the hallway. "Before we enter, I'm sorry if any of them annoys you too much." Xiaojun said as he opened the door to reveal a shouting Hendery being hit by Ten who was jumping on his back. "Oh hey (Y/N)! Welcome." Ten said pulling away from the blue haired boy. "We're leaving, Bella! Let's go for a walk!" Xiaojun said entering the house and looking for the little puppy, leaving you confused in the entrance. "Xiaojun it's raining." You said. "You prefer staying here watching them kill each other? If you do then you're free to stay." He answered as he put a cute sweater to the little puppy who was happily jumping. You couldn't resist his offer to go walk Bella even if it was under the rain though.

Taglist -> @bbyyangiex2 @dejundongyoung @gayboiyuto @jisungs-ubb @flowerfallinsvt @midnightmoi @sunflower-euphro @elcie-chxn @haechanisnctssun @staysstrays (let me know if you want me to add you to the taglist!)

Previous chapter - - - Masterlist - - - Next chapter

Pairing: WayV (xiaojun) x fem!reader

Genre: comedy, fluff, social media AU (based on the game "Mystic Messenger")

Plot: Finding a random message in your inbox from a stranger with a password to enter a groupchat with 7 boys wasn't the best plan for spending the beginning of the year. Although it wasn't your favorite plan, you will soon fall for these 7 boys and won't be able to reject their offer of helping them to hold a party and meet them face to face.

Warnings: None!

Word count: 482 words

A/N: EVERYONE I FINALLY FINISHED MY EXAMS🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩 Get ready for all the content I promised❤️ Hope you enjoy today's chapter ❤️❤️

P. S: I can't get over that shirt I can't stand this crackhead culture ICONIC🤧😂

[lyrick-buffpuff]

Today is Fanfic Writer Appreciation Day!

I would like to start this post by thanking all of you that have supported my writing, by liking, sharing, commenting, reply, or even just taking interest enough to click and read my work. Thank you, so much. I greatly appreciate y’all and I hope to create more works for you to enjoy. 

I would also like to give some shout outs to friends of mine who write fics as well and writers that I really admire. Highkey recommend checking them out. 

Dublin’s Ao3

lloftvlly’s Ao3

Thyandrawrites’s Ao3

Shigaswift’s Ao3

JailQueen’s Ao3

Cyavillain’s Ao3

TheTeapotOfDoom’s Ao3

I will be making a post at a later date that will go into better detail about these writers and their works, and i will be adding other writers as well. It will be like a library master post. This is just a quick shout out list.

I would also like to give a shout out to @rinakitamura​ who has created some beautiful works of art inspired from some of the writers listed above and myself. I have some of them saved, to be treasured, in my phone. 

Here is a link to my own Ao3. 

Evergreen still stands to be my most popular fic, which honestly surprised me. It was an impulse write and post, a bit of a vent fic. 

I am delighted with the attention my LoVigilantes AU is catching. I’m ecstatic to be able to work on it. I do have things prepping for the next arc installment, as well as filler for between Parts I & II. I love this AU very much and I’m so happy that others are enjoying it as much as I am. 

I am taking a break from updating it for the time being, mainly because I plan on participating in the Spinaraki week coming up. [ @spinarakiweek​ ] It is one of the many rarepairs that deserves so much more love. (Yoooo, if there’s ever a DabiTwice week, someone pls hit me up.) 

A few weeks back I applied as a writer for the @dryheatzine​ and their applications are due to close today. Even if I’m not chosen as a writer, I look forward to supporting the zine. It is a ShigaDabi zine  and I am thrilled about it’s creation. 

I am also currently working on some LoV Fam Fics to apply for the @bnha-foundfamily​ zine. Their applications are open now. 

Oh! I also applied for the @bnharchives​ zine, a Fic-centric zine. Applications are still open!

I’m thinkin of applying to the @bnhawlwanthology​ They’re currently going through their interest check. I have quite a few ideas for it. I’m hyped for it, honestly. 

And for anyone who’s interested, @vigilanteszine​ currently has their interest check up! I won’t be apply, but I do look forward to the zine. 

A final few reminders for Fanfic Writer Appreciation Day:

-go leave kudos and comments on every fic you finish reading. Doesn’t matter if it’s short or repetitive to other readers. Comments and feedback on how you enjoyed the fic are highly appreciated. I know I love and adore every comment and reply i get in my inbox.

-on that note, replying to replies are more than encouraged. 

-Reblog fics, post about a fic you just read and loved. go off dude. Spread writer’s works around to as many people you can reach. When you share works, writers get more exposure which is always appreciated and we will cry.

-Psssst. go poke your favourite fic writers’ inboxes. talk their ear off. Send thank you messages to them too. 

-Make fic rec posts!!! @ the authors and link their work.

-create something inspired by the work. the writer will love and treasure whatever piece or creation you make that was inspired by us. 

-support your writers! find out if they have a kofi and by em a coffee. More caffeine means more content. (I need paypal to finish fixing their shit before i can set up my KoFi T~T) Writers need as much support as you’re willing to give us, we greatly appreciate everything you do and give. 

I do believe that wraps up this post. Go support the writers!!!!!!! Ta-ta~!

[dreamcatcherfication]

Dreamers in Fantasyland - Part 2

So this wasn’t supposed to come out today, but I didn’t have anything else to post, so here it is! Just know that things only intensify from this chapter on. You will get no break, it’s all going down. I wrote this entire four part fic at 4 AM and that’s why everything is on crack. Don’t blame me, blame my insomnia. But anyway, I hope you enjoy! Sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors, my writing teachers are on holiday and I don’t fit in a suitcase.

Writing Masterpost

If you want to send a request or a prompt, my inbox is always open! I publish a story at 8:00 AM PST everyday, so I’m always in need of new ideas. If you want to be tagged in my works, just let me know and I’ll be sure to tag you!

Prompts | More Prompts | The Trifecta of Prompts | Original Prompts

Trigger Warnings: Sword fighting, stabbing, blood, murder (nothing too graphic)

Part 1

When Anne and Anna said they would be ‘kidnapping’ Cathy and Kat, Cathy assumed they meant to some secret abandoned church where they would sit around and wait for ransom. No, turns out, that is not what they meant by kidnapping.

“So pirates huh,” Cathy commented as she rocked back and forth in the lower deck of the ship. Kat was sitting next to her, laying her head softly on Cathy’s shoulder as the boat swayed. Anna and Anne were also with them, looking through maps they had set out on a large table.

Anne hummed in confirmation without so much as glancing at Cathy. “Indeed milady. Although you don’t hear much of us in your little palace, do you?” It wasn’t that Cathy didn’t believe pirates existed, she just didn’t believe that Anne was one of them. It seemed so absurd to her.

Anna looked up from the maps and quirked an eyebrow when she noticed Kat staring at her. The girl turned her head away, refusing to make eye contact with the pirate. Cathy didn’t miss their interaction, but she chose to ignore it. “I didn’t think your kidnapping plot was so serious.”

“Oh we’re always serious,” Anna flashed a brilliantly white smile, something that shouldn’t have been possible for a girl who likely only ate pheasant and drank mead by the gallon. 

This was already going horribly wrong. Cathy and Kat were being held for the ransom of the princess even though neither of them actually mattered in court. Things could only get worse if they continued to lie, and Kat knew that more than Cathy expected her to. “I’m not Princess Mary,” she blurted out, then put her hands over her mouth in surprise. 

Anna and Anne froze before turning around to look at her. “What do you mean you’re not Princess Mary?” Anne spoke through gritted teeth. “Of course you are! We found you in your bedchambers wearing your royal garments,” Anne ripped off her hat and threw it against the wall. She took a few deep breaths, attempting to calm herself down. “Cleves, if you’d talk to the princess for me, I would be very grateful.”

“Sure Capt’n,” Anna tipped an imaginary hat and walked up to Cathy and Kat. Cathy put an arm around Kat, making sure Anna couldn’t get to her. Anna’s face softened at the protective act, so she glanced back at Anne before leaning in and telling Cathy, “I promise I won’t hurt her, but you gotta let me talk with her.”

Reluctantly, Cathy pulled her arm away and allowed Kat to stand up. The girl didn’t seem as nervous as she should be, but Cathy attributed it to the strange familiarity that was pungent in the room. She was sure the others must have felt it too. For some reason, with the four of them all together, everything seemed to calm down. The violent rocking of the boat had mellowed out and the presence of the swords didn’t seem to bother anyone. It was so natural for a situation that was so - well - unnatural. 

Anna and Kat left the room together, and Cathy groaned into her hands. She wanted to be back with her girlfriend in the 21st century, not this swashbuckling - admittedly attractive - version of Anne Boleyn. Eyes widening, an epiphany hit Cathy. “Anne Boleyn,” she tried, seeing if it would provoke a reaction from the pirate.

Immediately, Anne’s spine straightened and she whipped around to stare at Cathy. “How do you know my name?”

“I thought you were a famous pirate,” Cathy covered up, hoping it would convince Anne.

Narrowing her eyes, Anne took a step closer to Cathy. “I may not be a courtier but I’m not an idiot. Barely five minutes ago you were surprised to hear we are pirates, and you’ve already lied once before about knowing my name. So tell me what you know before I pull out my blade.”

Cathy didn’t like seeing the girl she loved so much glare at her with such hatred. “Do you know the name Katherine Howard?”

A fond, nostalgic haze came over Anne for a second before she was jerked back into reality. “I haven’t heard that name in a long time. How do you know her?” It had only been for a second, but Cathy had seen the Anne Boleyn she knew peak out.

“That girl you think is Princess Mary? She’s my friend Katherine Howard. You’ve got the wrong girls,” Cathy explained.

Cracking her knuckles, Anne restrained herself from punching the wall. Of course it made sense that the princess seemed so familiar, of course there was a reason Anne knew something was wrong. “If you’re Anne Boleyn,” Cathy spoke up, breaking Anne away from her thoughts, “that means that girl out there,” she pointed to the door where Anna and Kat had left through, “is your cousin.”

“Yes,” Anne admitted, staring at the wall. Cathy was standing behind her, watching. “But it’s been a long time since I’ve seen anyone from that family, or mine.” She turned around and faced Cathy. “I don’t know how you know who I am, but I’m going to figure it out. What’s your name.”

Staring Anne directly in the eyes, Cathy hoped against all reality that her name would mean something to Anne. “Catherine Parr.”

Anna led Kat to a room beside where Cathy and Anne were staying. It wasn’t much worse than the other room, but it was clearly less spacious and well kept. “So, Miss Not-Princess-Mary,” Anna started, leaning against the wall, “Who are you really?”

Kat was unable to look in Anna’s eyes. She didn’t know what caused her to act the way she did, but seeing those eyes made her chest feel strange in a way it never had before. “If I tell you, will you promise not to kill me?”

The blunt laughter that came from Anna’s mouth made Kat feel embarrassed at her comment. “No, here we aren’t ruthless. You won’t see us killing unless we have to, and we tend to treat even our prisoners as humanly as possible. You’ll be safe here.”

Letting out a small sigh of relief, Kat started to wring her hands together. “I’m Katherine Howard, but everyone I know calls me Kat.”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” Anna continued to flirt. There was something about Kat that Anna couldn’t place. It was right on the tip of her tongue but no matter how hard she tried to figure it out, she never could. So instead, Anna let the feeling pass and continued to ‘interrogate’ Kat. “And why were you in the Princess’s chambers if you’re not her?”

Guiltily hiding behind her hair, Kat coughed lightly. “I was bringing her a gift for her return to court. Me and Cathy - the other girl with me -” she clarified, “brought it directly to her bedchambers.” Kat’s cheeks grew red as she admitted, “I wanted to try on her clothes, only to see what they would feel like. We thought one of the guards was knocking on the door, so I pretended to be Princess Mary.”

“But you’re not?”

“I’m not,” Kat shook her head, staring at her feet. “I imagine I’d be much more composed if I was,” she muttered.

Scoffing, Anna put her fingers on the top of her sword handle. “I don’t think I would’ve liked to have some stuck up princess here with me. You’re much better company, Kat.”

“Thank you, Miss Cleves,” Kat said as she tucked a fly away hair behind her ear.

Blanching at the name, Anna shook her head. “No, call me Anna. Or Cleves. No Miss here. We show respect to the captain, but the rest of us are equal. Besides, I can’t be much older than you anyway.”

“Well okay,” Kat tested out the name, “Anna. Thank you for not holding me at sword point.”

Shrugging, Anna crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s the least I could do for a guest.”

“Don’t you mean prisoner?”

“Well seeing as we have no reason to ransom you and your friend, I don’t see why there’s any need for that. You’re an… unwitting traveler,” Anna supplied. 

Before Kat could reply, the ship was rocked by a giant force that caused Kat to go running into the wall and books to fly off the center table. “What was that?” Kat gasped. Another rock to the boat, and this time they could make out the faint sound of battle cries.

Anna’s eyes widened with horror. “We’re being attacked.” 

“What?” Kat yelled.

Rushing out of the room, Anna made her way to where Anne and Cathy were, Kat trailing behind her. Anne was already out the door, her sword drawn with Cathy standing behind her. “Do you know who’s attacking?” Anne asked, her accent thicker.

“I think you know who it is,” Anna replied.

Turning around, Anne put a hand on Cathy’s shoulder and another on Kat’s. Cathy would’ve appreciated the gesture if it didn’t mean a sword was being held inches from her face. “Listen, they’re here for you two. He’s been chasing us for a while, knowing about our plan to kidnap the princess. He’s going to try and take you onto his ship so he can have you as his prize.”

“But we just got here!” Kat yelled in distress.

Holding up a hand, Cathy asked, “Who’s he?”

By the hard set faces she was greeted with, Cathy was afraid she already knew the answer. “Henry.”

The sea deck was an absolute battle zone. Anne’s crew was practically indistinguishable from Henry’s, their sailors stabbing at anything that dared come within slashing distance of their swords. “This isn’t good,” Anne muttered in a panic.

“Here!” Anna called over the chaos, tossing two swords to Cathy and Kat.

Looking down at the blade in her hand, Cathy shouted, “We’re fighting?”

“We need every man we can get!” Anna replied before diving into the thick of it.

She and Anne were already fighting as many rival pirates as they could, tossing their bodies to the floor as they passed. Cathy turned around and grabbed Kat’s hand. “You stay here and try to fend off anyone who tries to come for you. Scream if you need me.”

“I can do this, Cathy,” Kat stated resolutely, gripping the sword tightly.

Nodding at Kat, Cathy ran across the boat, dodging swords and bodies in order to get to Anne’s side. Anna had disappeared, lost in a swarm of bodies, but Anne was still visible with her signature green hat. A man came up behind Anne and raised his sword high, but Cathy stabbed him through the back before he could harm Anne. Spinning around, Anne managed to witness the pirate falling to the ground, dead. “Nice save,” Anne called, an informal thanks.

Putting her back to Anne’s, Cathy held her sword up with both hands and started blocking incoming attacks. “Someone has to watch your back.”

“Yes, well this is certainly unprecedented,” Anne grunted as she shoved a pirate away from her before running him through.

Slashing at a passing enemy, Cathy responded, “This was not the way I was expecting things to GO!” She screamed the last word, ducking under the blade of a pirate. He narrowly chopped her head off with his swing, but only succeeded in getting her off balance. 

“Anne Boleyn!” came a booming voice from among the pirates. The fighting didn’t cease, but Anne turned her attention to the man who was calling her out.

“Henry Tudor, Bastard Sailor,” she answered him, grabbing one of his men by the hair and stabbing him straight through the chest. She swung the blade to the side, causing blood to go flying on the wood of the ship. 

Henry’s beard had grown since the last time Anne saw him. Not to mention he had grown fatter, but that was to be expected from him. Cathy tried her best to ward off attacking pirates as Anne diverted her attention to the rival captain. “You’ve come for the girls on my ship?” Anne yelled at him, “Then you’ve come for me.”

Brandishing his sword, Henry revealed his yellowing teeth. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” And with that, their blades clashed, the sounds echoing louder than any of the other fights around them. Cathy could only watch helplessly out of the corner of her eye as Anne battled the powerful captain.

Anne took the offensive, swinging quickly at Henry from different angles. It was impossible for Henry to keep up with Anne’s blows, and he only managed to parry the first few. When nicks and cuts started appearing over his body, Henry shifted the game and batted Anne’s sword away the next time it came at him. He shoved her back, putting her off balance and creating an open window for himself. Henry took the butt of his sword and hit Anne over the head, causing her to go tumbling to the ground. He stabbed downwards, attempting to impale Anne, but she rolled out of the way at the last moment.

Kicking the back of Henry’s knee, Anne watched the man’s leg give out and send him to the floor. As Anne moved to give Henry a killing blow, Henry spun around and grabbed Anne’s sword with his hand. He was wearing leather gloves, something Anne hadn’t noticed, so the blade didn’t cut into his skin. Bringing the sword up, he and Anne were in a battle of strength as to who would be able to control the sword. 

Before either of them could discover the winner, the sword snapped in half. The weapon clattered uselessly to the ground, leaving Anne defenseless. “Shit,” Anne growled, looking for anything she could use to defend herself. But it was too late. Henry slammed his sword down against Anne’s skull, knocking her to the ground. While she wasn’t completely unconscious, Anne’s head was spinning and she couldn’t see clearly.

“Anne!” Cathy yelled to the captain, rushing through men to try and reach her. When Cathy was halfway to Anne, a scream stopped her in her tracks. 

As she spun around, Cathy saw Kat on the other side of the boat being manhandled by some of Henry’s pirates. Her sword was lying on the ground next to a body, but the men had managed to restrain Kat and were pulling her away. “Cathy!” Kat screamed, kicking at the men who had their grasp on her.

Stuck with an impossible decision, Cathy didn’t know which way to go. She could save the girl that was supposed to be her girlfriend, the pirate who - despite kidnapping and threatening her - still had a piece of her heart. Or she could save the friend she cherished so deeply, the girl that had been helping her since she woke up in this strange reality. Right as Cathy made her decision, two arms grabbed her by the shoulder’s and hauled her backwards. “Let me go!” Cathy screamed, but she was stopped by Anna who wrapped a hand around her mouth.

“They’re leaving, we have to let them go or they will kill us all,” Anna ordered Cathy, pulling her away from the bloody scene. There were still battles going on, but most of Henry’s pirates were retreating back to their ship now that they had their prize. 

Henry had Anne in his grip, and his men were carrying Kat to the other boat already. “You’re just going to let him take them?” Cathy was gobsmacked. “You’ll let him take your captain and an innocent girl?”

“What choice do I have?” Anna shouted, stabbing her sword into the wood floor of the boat. Grabbing her own wrist to hide the shaking of her hands, Anna sighed. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to yell.” Taking in a deep breath, Anna exhaled and attempted to regain what was left of her composure. “We try to stop Henry and our entire crew dies. We let him leave with his prizes, and maybe we stand a fighting chance of saving them.”

Gritting her teeth, Cathy kicked the side of the boat. “I don’t like this Cleves.”

“Neither do I.” The two girls watched as Henry’s boat started to sail away from theirs, heading for the nearest harbor. “But we’ll get them back. I promise we will.”

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Tag List:

@theatergirl06@radcowboyalmondtree@boleynhowards@annabanana2401@babeebobo@dont-lose-your-queerhead@everything-insanity@mindless-pidgeon@i-wanna-dance-and-sing-six@thedemidisaster@its-totes-gods-will

[kill-for-cookies]

Promise is a beautiful lie (pt. 7)

Dhawan!Master x Reader

Words: 3191

Note: Finally I wrote it! And that’s why I have a very good mood. Hope, you too. Oh, and friendly reminder, my inbox is open and you can send me requests.

Previous parts:  1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

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The Doctor didn't tell you where you were going today. All she said was it would be a little hot. Obviously, she decided to surprise you. You never were happy with surprises. You liked when everyone talked to you straight. Besides, waiting was a real torture for you. You couldn't stand it. 

Now you were in the TARDIS wardrobe, looking at yourself in the mirror. You were wearing a shirt and skirt. You liked it. Simple but stylish. But you decided to put on a white scarf made of light fabric. Now it was perfect. 

'I like it. Looks great' you inwardly made a compliment. 

'It would look better if you wore purple.'

Of course, how could be without him? Could the Master ever leave you alone for one day? You didn't process last night's meeting in the TARDIS and he was here again. There was one but. You didn't mind. Well, not exactly. You were, of course, but not as much as you could have been. Earlier you would have tried to get rid of the Master, but now you didn't really want it. Yes, there was a note of discontent, but certainly not a fountain. 

'Has anyone ever told you you're obsessed with purple?' there was one advantage of this conversation. You could tease the Master. The main thing was not to get carried away. 

'Yes, they don't shut up. Usually they quickly fall silent for some reason... So strange!' he said it so dramatically that you immediately rolled eyes. The sarcasm clearly sounded in his voice. 

You walked through the corridors of the TARDIS, coming back to the console room. You decided to leave his remark without comment. Maybe the Master would leave you if you just didn't say anything. Honestly, you didn't particularly want to tease or argue with him. Just wanted to spend some time quietly on some alien planet. You had a lot of thoughts to deal with. For example, what the hell happened yesterday? So you were begging for two or three hours of solitude and peace.

'So, where are you going this time?' but apparently, this would remain a pipe dream. Deep down, you took a deep breath.

'Why do you want to know?'

'It's not polite to answer questions with questions, love' you could feel his grin. Could even imagine it. So often you had seen the Master lately. You felt it near your ear. Damn telepathy. Sometimes you just hated this. 

'Anyway, I won't tell you until I know why' you crossed your arms over your chest, which made you a little uncomfortable walking. But you couldn't help yourself. 

'I'm just curious' to your surprise, you believed the Master. It really sounded sincere. But out of habit, you asked. 

'Really?'

'Yes, I'm not lying. Swear on two hearts it is.'

'I'm sorry. Just last time you pretended to be a different person and were jealous of yourself.'

'I wasn't jealous' you were sure the Master was offended and pouted. He often reminded you of a little spoiled child.

'Oh, right. How could I forget about your unsurpassed acting talent?'

'I forgive you. Next time I won't be so generous' you rolled eyes again. You thought you would soon see your entrails.

Finally you reached the console room. The Doctor was waiting for you, leaning on the console and reading a book. You didn't want to know what it was about. Either in a language that the TARDIS refused to translate or you wouldn't understand complicated words.

"Doc, I'm ready" she smiled and put the book away, looking at you.

"Wow! Scarf! I love scarves. I wore it once. It was so long that when folded in half it reached my heels and I was taller" your face immediately broke into a wide smile. You had no doubts that it was true.

'I always wanted to straighten it so the Doctor would fall.'

You weren't even surprised by the Master's comment. It was a little funny, though. Usually he tried to kill the Doctor, set a death trap for her. But right now it was quite different. Just a little prank. He was definitely a child at heart.

'I think it's cute' you objected.

'You just didn't see the scarf. It was multicolored and striped. No sense of style. I've never had a problem with style' and here he was again. Did the Master ever get tired of praises? Obviously not.

"Y/N, is everything okay? You're frowning" the Doctor peeked around the central column. Damn, she noticed. You got carried away with argument. Emotions showed on your face.

"Er... I was just talking to my mother yesterday. It brought up couple of unpleasant memories. It's okay."

You tried to give the Doctor a confused smile, but it was more tight and unconvincing. But it was enough for her to stop asking questions. A small sigh of relief escaped from your throat.

'Liar. Did you learn it from the Doctor or you always did it?' the Master teased. This situation clearly amused him. You really wanted to see his face and hit him so hard.

The Doctor stood at the door and opened it, inviting you to come out. So you did. You were met by a scorching red sun, which made you close eyes and put hand to your forehead to create some shade.

The sharp smell of spices hit your nose. So sharp that you wanted to sneeze. In front of you were stalls with all sorts of things. Spices, flowers, fruits, vegetables, technologies, etc. It seemed you could buy here everything in the Universe.

It was so atmospheric. There was a lot of people. Some of them examined and brought goods. Others shouted and argued. Apparently, didn't agree on price or quality.

Everything seemed so alive here. Real. No pomp and conventions. Simple and clear. That was what you really liked and missed a little. You couldn't take your eyes off this sight. It was even a little breathtaking. In a good way, of course.

"Welcome to Guoron. Planet of merchants and markets" the Doctor put hand on your shoulder as she lined up with you. "You said you wanted something simple. So I thought..." she didn't finish the sentence when she saw the tears in your eyes. "Sorry. I thought you'd like it. I can take you somewhere else..."

"Don't you dare. Don't even think about it" you said sharply, raising your voice at the Doctor and wiping away tears. "I'm crying with happiness. I didn't think it would be so great" you added more gently after seeing her surprised and wondering look.

The Doctor brightened. Her eyes showed she let out a deep mental breath. She was about to say something, but jumped up and ran to the counter.

"Oh, look. It's a waste-to-fuel Converter. I didn't know it was invented in the 37th century. I thought I was 39th. I learn something new every day" the Doctor never changed. This was probably a good thing. Besides, it was difficult not to like it. Every time she did that, you instantly smiled.

You decided to leave the Doctor. Let her examine mechanisms on his own. You weren't as interested in it as her. Honestly, you weren't interested at all.

You moved forward. Stalls were endless. It was like the street, you were walking on, led to nowhere. 

You had some kind of alien fruit in your hands. You were given it to taste even though you didn't have any money. The Doctor must forget to give money to you. Or just didn't have it as usual.

The fruit was blue, round and bumpy. It was glowing a little. In general, it resembled a raspberry. Just increased in size. You took a small bite of the fruit. It tasted like watermelon. Great! Your first alien fruit was edible and delicious. But you hardly finished your meal when the Master appeared in your mind again.

'Aren't you tired of lying to the Doctor?' he definitely wasn't going to leave you alone. It was getting annoying, as if everything, that had happened yesterday, didn't make any sense.

'What else should I do? Tell her everything? I don't think that's a good idea. So what do you suggest?'

Before the Master could respond, you heard that someone was addressing to you and trying to get your attention.

"The girl with white scarf!" you turned and looked around. You were the only one who wore a scarf. Certainly white. But you asked with embarrassment.

"Me?" you said to the old lady in the orange dress, moving closer to her.

"Yes, you" she just smiled sweetly, even though you were still looking at her in confusion. You certainly didn't expect that someone here would address to you. "Don't you want to know your fate?"

"Sorry, but I don't believe in fate" you were already half-turned and about to leave, but the old lady wasn't going to give up so quickly.

"Aren't you curious, Y/N?" your eyes immediately widened as soon as you heard your name.

Where did she know it? Did someone tell her? But who then? Not many people know it (especially on another planet or century). You certainly weren't as famous as the Master or the Doctor.

"W-where do you know?" you barely managed to say it. Your voice was trembling. Disquiet and anxiety grew in you at an extraordinary rate.

The old lady didn't answer you. She just signed to follow her. You weren't sure you should do it. On the one hand, you really wanted to. After all, you always were curious.

On the other hand, you were worried. Maybe it was a trick. Like using you as bait for the Doctor. And that wouldn't surprise you very much. In your practice, this was the norm.

'Don't go, dear. Surely this is some kind of trap' in the Master's voice there was a... concern? He worried about you? If you didn't know him, you'd be pretty sure he did.

'It's nice to know you care about me' through the bond, you felt his resentment and annoyance. He must have crossed arms over his chest and rolled eyes. 'But I want to know where she knows my name. If you don't like it, get out of my head.'

It wasn't a good idea to talk to the Master like that, but you didn't care. This old woman was right. You were very curious. So much that it got the better of your disquiet. And even though you didn't believe in predictions, you couldn't help yourself. 

Long pause. A long, tense pause. You even started to get nervous, because the Master didn't say anything. Nothing radiated through the bond, as if he wasn't in your head, although you could tell it wasn't true. 

'Okay. I'll give you fifteen minutes' and now you were alone. Alone with all this madness. You were hoping in fifteen minutes you wouldn't hear the Master saying 'I told you so'.

You were a little sad he was gone. Honestly, you wanted him to stay. Now you regretted you sent him away. At least, it would be some support. And even if the Master teased you, it would be much better than being alone.

You went inside the store. It was dark. The only light sources were candles. The room had a couple of bookcases with various books. There were skulls on some of the shelves. You wanted to believe these were 'magic' skulls and not something else.

In the middle of the room was a table with two chairs. The old lady was already sitting at the table, shuffling cards, waiting for you, like she knew you would come in.

"Glad you didn't listen to the Master" you froze in place with round eyes. You didn't even hide your surprise.

How the hell did she know about the Master? He was in your head. He even wasn't on this planet. And in general, how did she know you argued with him to come in or not? Now you weren't only curious, but also scared.

"Sit down" you slowly sat in the chair in front of the old lady. You were still waiting for the catch.

"Where do you know my name?"

It was the only thing that made you be here. You wanted to deal with this quickly and get out of here as quickly as possible. That lady scared the hell out of you. Perhaps, more than the Master had ever done.

"Take four cards from the deck" you quickly blinked your eyes. Your mouth opened to object, but she cut you off. "Just do it. I promise you'll get answers."

Brilliant! It didn't bother you at all. The woman, who knew your name and your meetings with the Master (even the Doctor wasn't aware of it), didn't frighten you at all. Just the best day on this damn planet!

Your hand with wariness (as if you put your hand on a hot pan) pulled out four cards.

"I made predictions to many people. Counts, generals, kings and others. And some of them came across a card that means deadly danger" she said, shuffling your cards.

'Um... Okay, but how does that explain she knows me?' you thought to yourself, shifting in your chair. You were hoping the Master would say something now. But unfortunately, this didn't happen.

"Your first card is the inverted King of swords. In your past there was a strong enemy who caused you a lot of trouble and suffering. He has done you serious harm. Did you have him?" the abrupt transition confused you a little. Maybe this old lady would tell you later what she meant earlier.

You were thinking. Yeah, you had one guy at school who bullied and humiliated you. You even cried about it a couple of times, but you wouldn't call him a strong enemy.

In general, you could include the Master there, if we talked about the past. But he wasn't exactly your enemy, he was the Doctor's. But considering he threatened you and your friends... So theoretically, he was.

"Yes, I had. But perhaps, everyone had such person" the lady nodded at this and on her face was written 'fair'.

"Well, they were threatened with death, but they were always saved by someone" you frowned, trying to understand who she was talking about. Probably about her clients. "The more such predictions were made, the more I learned about this person. And that was you."

Wait what? You quickly blinked in surprise. Would you save someone? Of course, you traveled with the Doctor, but usually it was she, who saved the situation.

"Well, yes, I'm traveling with the Doctor, but I'm only helping her..." you lowered your head and rubbed your neck in confusion.

"No, it was you and not with the Doctor. Have any clue?"

Even if that was true, how could you save alien kings and counts without her? You didn't have your own ship... And then it hit you. You even forgot about it. You met the Master from your future and he said you two were together. Well, after that, you interrupted him, not wanting to know what he meant.

Apparently, in the future, you would travel with the Master and dissuade him from killing. And it seemed possible. Of course, you were a little unsure of your guess, but that was the only explanation.

Besides, the more you met the Master, the more you believed he could change. And if he could, maybe one day... you would leave the Doctor for him (and just a month ago you thought that was impossible).

You would not because you were attracted to the Master. You just felt like you were the only one who were good to him. Plus, the Doctor had Fam. In the worst case, she would easily find a new companion, but the Master wouldn't.

"Wow! Congratulations. You got the Sun. Now your life is like a fairy tale. Adventure and true love. Perfect combination" okay, let's say the first time it was an accident. But now it didn't feel like this.

You definitely couldn't complain about your life now. It was really good. You saw the stars and history again with your own eyes. And there was definitely something between you and the Master. You wouldn't say (at least, for now) it was love. But you couldn't deny you didn't have feelings for him, either.

"Let's say I believe you, but why did you say 'I'm glad you didn't listen to the Master'?" you decided she shouldn't know she was right. You still didn't trust her, but the more time passed, the more you believed her story.

"I know you've been talking to him a lot lately. Don't worry, the Doctor won't know about it" the tension began to gradually leave your muscles. You didn't even notice it until now. "I know a lot about you from the predictions. Didn't I say that?" you looked away. You needed time to digest all this information.

Honestly, you weren't as scared as you were when you first came in. Of course, you were, but for some reason, deep down, you believed her. Felt this lady would do no harm to you.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Really sorry" your eyes were quickly up to her face, asking 'what happened?' "Inverted Ten of swords. This is one of the most frightening card. You will soon face a terrible ordeal. And it will bring you tears, pain and devastation."

It was like you were struck by lightning. Although you didn't believe in fate (after all, previous cards didn't fully convince you), it was still scary to hear this. You didn't want to know what the last card would be. It didn't take a genius to figure out what it would tell you. Your future in general.

You got up and walked quickly to the door. The old lady tried to stop you, but you weren't going to turn around. You were devastated. No thoughts, no emotions. Just nothing. The only thing you wanted was fresh air. Well, as far as it was possible in the market.

When you entered a small alley, you stopped and pressed your back against the wall, taking a deep breath and closing your eyes. Surely, you didn't think the day would pass like this. It was supposed to be wonderful. Supposed to be. 

You had no idea you were going to be so upset today. Especially from fortune telling. It was more likely the Master would spoil your mood, but certainly not this.Maybe you shouldn't have left. Maybe the last card was a good one. Maybe everything would end well. You would live happily ever after...

You stood there for a few more minutes in silence. Alone with yourself... Damn, you wished the Master was back in your head. His taunts would cheer you up. Who knew you loved them so much? Certainly not you.

When you came back to normal a little, you were about to leave and find the Doctor, but you were violently grabbed by arms.

[springday-aus]

BTS’s Namjoon: Plus Two || part one

—

Fic Piece Written by: Admin Grandma of @springday-aus​

Moodboard Link: Created By Admin Grandpa

Character Pairing: Y/N and BTS’s Kim Namjoon (RM)

Other Characters: BTS [Hoseok, Taehyung, Yoongi (barista!yoongi), Seokjin - others are mentioned briefly], Hyerin (EXID), Suho (EXO OT12), Moonbyul (Mamamoo), Eric Nam, Tiffany (SNSD), Irene (Red Velvet), and Jackson (GOT7) - along with their respective group members, who are involved as planners, partakers, and guests 

Genre: romance, comedy, officer worker!Namjoon, wedding date!au, friends to lovers!au 

Type: series [two parts]

part one || part two

Word Count: approx. 21.6k

Plot Summary: getting older is never easy, especially with all the weddings Namjoon has been attending. Fortunately for him, a run in with an old friend of his, i.e. you, makes all these weddings a bit more bearable. 

⤷ Alternatively: you and Namjoon keep running into each other, ultimately becoming unofficial wedding dates. Once it’s official, a couple of things start to change... such as the old flame that Namjoon thought he put out. 

→ Inspired by: the movie called Plus One—hence the creation of Plus Two!

Warnings: lots of drinking involved and cursing 

A/N: this accidentally became a slow burn fic, considering that I stretched out Namjoon’s pining to 21k words. 

October 25th, 2019

Friday, 10AM 

Lee Corporations

—

The clicks of computer keyboards fill the dead silence of the office floor. Everyone’s buried in their own paperwork and files, concerned about finishing their workload before the work day is over. Namjoon sits in his cubicle, reorganizing his spreadsheets and double checking the numbers. It’s taking longer than he originally wanted, but then again, computer games are designed for distractions. He checks his watch. It’s only been two hours and he’s already bored. Sure, he’s got enough work, but does he really want to do it? 

No, not really. 

He rubs his eyes, which he inwardly hopes might wake him up from this nightmare. Curse him for being practical and choosing to be a business major. Had he chosen a different path, he might have turned out happier—at least, he has a stable paycheck. By the end of the day, that’s all that really matters in this lifetime. 

A chime from his phone interrupts his thoughts on his extinctial crisis. He grabs his phone from his desk counter, as he stands up from his seat. Might as well grab another cup of coffee. He heads to the break room and immediately navigates himself into the corner, where the coffee maker rests. After plugging it in, he unlocks his phone and clicks on the latest notification—an email sent to his personal inbox.

You’re invited to celebrate the union of Seo Hyerin and Yoon Jae Jung! 

Date: November 16th 

Time: 11:15am for the ceremony, 8pm for the reception

Location: Crossroads Cathedral and Sweet Dreams Event Hall 

Please RSVP at XXX-XXX-XXXX or respond to the email! We hope to see you there! 

Huh, he hadn’t heard from Hyerin for a while—last thing he remembered was that she was enjoying her job as a translator and she was in a wonderful relationship, which is now blossoming into marriage. 

Good for her.

He doesn’t mean for it to sound as sarcastic as it does. It is good for her. As one of her close friends (close enough to get her wedding invitation at least), he’s glad she’s able to find someone who wants to share her life with. 

But it’s also a reminder that Namjoon hasn’t managed to do the same. He shuts his eyes and lets out a long sigh. It’s going to be really sad that he’s going to be there without a date of some sort, while others are most likely going to be there with dates. It’ll be nice to catch up with some of his old friends, but it’s also going to be a pain to have all those pity looks and the ‘don’t worry, you’ll find someone soon’ speeches. 

By the time he realizes he’s lost himself within his thoughts once again, the coffee is reheated and his phone screen has turned black. He moves his mug and slowly pours the dark liquid in. Namjoon’s ringtone breaks the silence. The image of Hoseok’s dog, Micky, flashes on his screen with the words, Dancing King. 

“What’s up, man?” Namjoon asks, as he pours a packet of sugar into his cup. 

“Hey! How’s my favorite businessman?” 

“Hoseok, I’m the only businessman you know.” 

“No! Wonsik is also a businessman.” 

“He’s a CEO of his own music company—while there is business associated, he’s still deemed as a musician in my book.” 

There’s a bit of silence and Namjoon can practically see Hoseok’s lips pulling back in disappointment. 

“Same difference,” Hoseok says through the line. “Anyways, did you see the invitation yet?” 

“Yeah, I saw it,” Namjoon says. “I just can’t believe Hyerin is already getting married.” 

“I know. It’s almost like we’re adults or something.” 

Namjoon rolls his eyes from Hoseok’s sarcastic comment, even though he can’t see it. “Are you bringing anyone?” 

“It’s too soon to see, but I might try to find a date—it’s just another wedding.” There’s a pause, with some muffled shuffling. “If not though, would you do the honor of being my date?” 

“You know, I might just take you up on that offer.” 

“Bet,” Hoseok says. “Well, the others are starting to come back from break. I’ll talk to you later?” 

“You know where I’ll be.” 

“Only from 9 to 5.” There’s another laugh from him through the phone. “Alright, bye!” 

“Bye.” 

He sets his phone down, staring mindlessly into his coffee as he waits for the sugar to dissolve. 

Well, on the bright side, he has a date to the wedding now. That one task marked off the list. 

November 16th, 2019

Saturday, 9PM 

Hyerin’s Reception 

Sweet Dreams Event Hall 

—

“I’ve known Hyerin for such a long time,” Hani says. “And I have seen so many sides of her. Even today, she continues to reveal new sides of her that are surprising to everyone. She’s smart; she’s classy; she’s fun-loving and she’s cute. Sure, everyone here might know her as the crazy one in this group. But that craziness is part of her charm—which I’m sure Jae Jung has experienced at least once or twice by now.” 

The crowd laughs, as Hani tips her glass towards the couple. She gives another dazzling smile to them and continues. “Nevertheless, that craziness is what’s going to make life more entertaining for you. Some may say marriage doesn’t last, but I know you two will make it work. As one of Hyerin’s closest friends, I wish you two nothing more than a lifetime of happiness from one another. Congratulations, Hyerin and Jae Jung.”

There’s a light applause as Hani, the maid of honor, finishes her speech, which is followed by the taps of the guests’ champagne glasses. Hoseok and Namjoon’s glasses make a clink against the other, before they respectively clink their glasses with the other guests at their table. 

“Cheers.” 

“Cheers.” 

“Cheers.”

After taking a sip, Namjoon turns his attention back to his plate, which is cleared of food. 

“Hey,” he says with a nudge to Hoseok. “When did they say they were gonna cut the cake?” 

“I think they’re gonna cut it after a couple more courses.” 

“I’m so full.” Namjoon lightly pats his stomach. “I knew there was gonna be a lot of food, but I didn’t know it was going to be this much.” 

Hoseok lets out a laugh. “Hyerin’s got a bottomless pit for a stomach—you should have known she was going to have a lot of food.” 

Namjoon laughs with him. “Oh my God. How could I forget the buffet incident?”

Their conversation is interrupted by some feedback from the speakers. The crowd’s attention is turned back to the main table, where Hyerin stands with the microphone in hand and her new husband, Jae Jung, is trying to fix the veil that was caught on the back of her dress. 

“Hello everyone! Thank you so much for coming and joining us for this evening. Also, if we could give another hand to Hani for helping me arrange the whole thing—she really is the best. This night has been the most incredible.” There’s some more applause and, at the end of the main table, Hani stands once more with a smile and bows to the guest tables. 

Hyerin continues to talk once it dies down. “Um, we’re still coming around to the tables to properly greet and thank everyone for their support and gifts. The cake will be cut soon, but we still have two more courses left. Also, the bar remains open, if any adults need some more alcohol.” There’s a light laugh—Hoseok and Namjoon exchange looks of agreement to hit the bar after the meal. 

“And after the cake is cut, everyone is welcome to the dance floor.” She hands the mic to Jae Jung. 

“Hyerin and I will have our first dance and, after that, the party can officially start.” A guy in the back shouts a ‘woo’ and there’s scattered laughter. “Anyways, thank you again for coming in support of Hyerin and I. We hope you have a good time tonight.” 

There’s more applause and the couple resume to make their rounds to each table. The informal conversations begin once again as the guests wait for the next course to be served. Namjoon turns his attention back to Hoseok, who’s already engaged in conversation with a couple of people at the table. 

“So, how do you know the couple?” Minhyuk asks. 

“Ah, Hyerin and I went to the same dance academy,” Hoseok says. “We’ve been friends for, like, 10 years now. We all still talk so…” He gives a light shrug with an eased smile. 

Minhyuk looks over at Namjoon unexpectedly, who freezes for a bit from the eye contact, before answering. “Oh, I met Hyerin through Hoseok actually,” he says. “We had a couple of classes together and were in a couple of study groups together in college and…” He pauses. “Here we are. How do you know her?” 

“I was friends with her back in high school,” Minhyuk says. “A lot of people thought we were dating, so it’s a whole inside joke between us—especially since I got invited to her wedding.” 

“That’s funny,” Namjoon says. “But, wow. You kept in contact after high school?” 

“Yeah, thanks to the creation of cell phones and, as you already know.” He pauses. “Hyerin is very sociable, so it’d be hard to not keep contact.” 

“Speaking of which,” Hoseok says. “There’s a lot of people here. Their guest list is huge.” 

“I have a feeling there’s more of Hyerin’s friends than Jae Jung,” Namjoon says with a small laugh. 

“I’d place my bet on that,” Minhyuk says. His attention is diverted towards the servers that were coming out to serve the fifth course, making more conversation with the others at the table. 

“That’s a safe bet,” Hoseok says to Namjoon. “I’ve seen nearly everyone from dance camp.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah.” Hoseok takes another look around. “I saw Hyemi as we were coming in and Sanghyuk is just a couple of tables away.” He pokes his head up, sitting up straighter to get a more clear look around. “I should catch up with him in a bit.” 

“Maybe you two can meet on the dance floor,” Namjoon says with a laugh. “That’d be an interesting scene.” 

“Well, there is an open bar.” 

Namjoon can only give Hoseok a warning look, to which he gets a mischievous one in return. He can only sigh in response, but he can’t help to chuckle. He’s known Hoseok for so long that he knows he can’t stop one of his shenanigans. 

He resumes his attention back to his plate, where a small scoop of brightly colored sorbet sits in a little bowl. 

“It’s cute,” Hoseok says. “We get ice cream before the cake.” He does a little dance with his shoulders, beaming with his pearly whites. 

“First of all,” Namjoon says. “I think you’ve had enough sugar. I’m afraid of what’ll happen once the alcohol starts to take effect as well. Secondly, it’s sorbet and it’s supposed to refresh your palate.” 

“Ah, Namjoon,” Hyerin says. “Smart as always.” The entire table centers their focus on the newlyweds, who’ve approached them from behind. Light cheers erupt from the other guests and Namjoon gives her a big, toothy grin. 

“I was just wondering when you two were gonna get to our table,” Il Woo says from across the table. 

Hyerin laughs. “I’m trying my best to get to all the tables, but, in hindsight, we do have too many friends.” 

“To be honest,” Jae Jung says. “We had to cut down the list, like, twice.” 

“Finding a venue to fit everyone was easier than cutting down the list. Who knew?” Hyerin makes a face, which Hoseok responds to with one of his. The two start to go around the table, individually catching up with others and filling the guest’s glasses as they chat—eventually getting to Hoseok and Namjoon. 

“Are you two finally dating?” Hyerin teases.

“As much as I like Hoseok,” Namjoon says. “Seokjin is more of my type.” He looks over at Hoseok, who pouts. 

Hoseok turns away with bitterness. “That’s fine, I like Yoongi better anyways.” 

“It’s nice to see that you two haven’t changed,” Hyerin says. “Thank you for coming—the both of you.” 

“It’s no problem,” Hoseok says. “We’re your friends.” 

“We’re here to support you.” Namjoon says. 

“You two are just as sweet as I remember,” she says with a bright smile. She taps her glass with theirs. “Cheers.” 

“Cheers.” 

“Cheers.” 

Hoseok and Namjoon take their respective sips, while Hyerin drowns hers down. 

“Damn,” Hoseok says. “Your tolerance hasn’t changed since college.” 

“We’ll see with how tonight goes,” Hyerin says. “I think the others’ have lowered, so watch out when they all head to the bar.” 

“You mean like now?” Namjoon asks. 

“What?”

Namjoon points a finger towards the wall where glass shelves hold many colorful bottles of wine, liquor, and juices to mix with the alcohol. A bartender mixes the drinks to the best of her abilities to fill the four glasses set on the counter. Hyerin’s bridesmaids lean on the countertop, shouting “shots” repeatedly. 

“Oh dear God,” Hyerin says. She shuffles with her dress, grabbing as much of it as she can, and attempts to run over towards them. “Y’all!! Couldn’t you have waited until the elders left!?! Wait for me!” 

Jae Jung hurriedly follows after her. “Honey! Be careful with the dress, you could trip!” 

After they ran off, Hoseok and Namjoon could no longer hold in their laughter. 

“That’s one way to exit a conversation,” Namjoon says with another sip of his champagne. “They really haven’t changed since college.” He lets out another laugh. “Who else do you think is here?” 

“Honestly, knowing Hyerin,” Hoseok says. “I have no clue.” 

They get back to their plates and converse with the others at the table. Hyerin has made many friends after graduating, Namjoon notes. Then again, she’s always been very friendly with others, which is how Namjoon was able to easily get along with her. 

As the conversations go, the last course, along with the cake, is served and the dance floor is officially open. Once 10pm hit, Hyerin and Jae Jung led their first dance. Everyone slowly started to join in and then the songs were transitioning to a faster pace, in which the elderly started to take their leave. Good timing too because the alcohol started to set in and no one had any resistance left. 

Hoseok has officially abandoned Namjoon to steal the leftover party favors on empty tables (at this point, he’s openly stealing rather than sneaking them into his pockets). Namjoon remains at the, now, empty table and empty plate—observing the other guests who have made a home for themselves on the dance floor. 

Hyojin’s alcohol tolerance is officially met as she twerks on the dance floor. Hyerin and Hoseok’s dance friends, Hyemi and Sanghyuk, have officially engaged in a full-fledged dance battle. Meanwhile, one of the bridesmaids, Solji, has another, Junghwa, on one arm to pull her away from any physical object she could flirt with (to which Namjoon has been a victim) and, in the other arm, she holds a svedka bottle that’s already half empty. In another corner, from Namjoon’s table, Minhyuk has helped himself to the rest of the uncut cake with a serving spoon. 

Amidst the chaos, Namjoon stays at the table, taking in the atmosphere with the disco lights and fast-paced radio hip-hop songs. He nods along with the music, mouthing along with the lyrics. As much as he would love to join the others, he knows he would most likely break something of his, or someone else’s. 

He checks his watch and glances around, wondering as to how far Hoseok had gotten with the party favors. Just as he was about to start his search, Rihanna’s Umbrella starts to play and that’s when he hears Hoseok before he can see him. 

“BITCH! THIS IS MY JAM!” 

Namjoon has to close his eyes from embarrassment of being his date, but then something saves him. 

“BITCH, ME TOO. MOVE!” 

“HANNA AND (Y/N) IN THE BUILDING, EH EH EH.” 

Well, nevermind. 

The crowd parts like the red sea, allowing Hoseok and two familiar looking figures to meet in the middle—each person nodding along to the melody and waving their arms in the air. As if it was a karaoke meet, everyone sings aloud, along to the music. 

“You have my heart. And we’ll never be worlds apart. Maybe in magazines… but you’ll still be my star…” 

 Namjoon smiles at the sight. Hoseok and Hanna are doing their own thing, ignoring the little bags that fall out from Hoseok’s pockets that were, technically, stolen from the other tables. You blend into the crowd, swaying to the melody with Hani on one arm. 

“Because~ When the sun shines, we shine together. Told you I’ll be here forever. Said I’ll always be your friend. Took an oath, Imma stick it out to the end. Now that it's raining more than ever, know that we’ll have each other. You can stand under my umbrella… You can stand under my umbrella, ella, ella, eh, eh, eh…”

Namjoon makes eye contact with you. Your eyes widen, surprised from seeing him. With your free arm, you wave him over—to which he can only shake his head, passing up the opportunity of embarrassing himself in front of his old college friends. 

You pull yourself away from the crowd and head towards his direction, eventually taking the empty seat next to him. Without a word, you reach over and grab a champagne glass from the other side, drowning it down in one shot. 

“Ahh,” you breathe out. You point to his glass and the remaining alcohol that glistens from the disco lights. Without another word, Namjoon hands it over to you. He can only watch, as you drown down that glass as well. 

“Well,” he says. “It’s nice to see you too, (Y/N).” 

“Sorry,” you say. “That glass looked too appealing.” 

He lets out another light laugh with a shake of his head. “Seriously though, it’s nice to see you.” 

You hum. “How long has it been? Couple of years?” 

“Yeah, it’s been a bit of time,” Namjoon says. “Glad to see you haven’t changed too much.”

“Glad to see you haven’t either.” You pause, looking back at his, now empty, glass. “Still have a low tolerance?” 

“You already know the answer to that, so why bother asking?” 

“Just ‘cause it’s fun to hear you admit you’re a little baby when it comes to drinking.”

“Ugh, this is just because you were able to build a tolerance from all that bar hopping.” 

“We both did that bar hop.” You scan him with a glint in your eyes. “Something clearly went something wrong.” 

You both laugh. With another nudge towards him, you speak up again. “How’ve you been? Still working at the office?” 

“Yeah, I’m officially a manager.” He rubs the back of his neck. 

“You still making music?” 

“Every now and then,” he says. “Whenever I get the time, I do.” 

You let out a little laugh, grabbing another glass of champagne. “I remember all those tracks you made. Shame that your mixtape never released.” 

“Oh my God.” Namjoon has to close his eyes. “Please never bring that up again.” 

“Why not? They were great.” You take a sip of the glass. “I still have your Soundcloud page bookmarked.” 

Namjoon rubs his face with his face becoming more and more flushed, but he can’t hide his growing smile. “Oh my God, (Y/N).” 

You give him another teasing one in return. “Remember when you used to try to promote yourself on the quad—” 

“Oh my God, (Y/N)—”

You let out another laugh from his red face. Namjoon shuffles his feet and his eyes dart around, trying to find a drink for his, suddenly, dry throat. As if you read his mind, you tip your glass towards him—offering him the rest of your drink. He takes it and takes a small sip, clearing his throat afterwards.

“Anyways,” Namjoon says. “What have you been up to?” 

“Oh, you know. Same old, same old.” You pause. “You act like you didn’t like my Instagram post two nights ago. You also DM me memes, dude.” 

“Yeah, but that’s different from actually talking to you and catching up.” Namjoon rests a hand on his chest, in mock-hurt. “I’ve been sending those since college and you still don’t appreciate them?”

You roll your eyes but it’s with no malice. “For your information, more is not less. Less is less.”

“Is this your way of telling me to lessen the meme content in our messaging?” 

“Yes.” 

“Damn, that’s harsh.” 

You let out another laugh as he pouts in his seat. “Sorry, Joonie.” 

Your conversation is interrupted, as Hyemi shouts your name from across the room. “(Y/N)! I’M PUTTING ON BRITTNEY, BITCH.” 

“AYY!” You immediately get up from your seat, dancing your way over back to the dance floor. As Hyemi pulls you away, you look back towards Namjoon and give him a little finger wave. “I’ll see you sometime, okay?” 

He smiles back with a small nod, just quick enough for you to see, before you get pulled into the crowd once again. 

December 3nd, 2019

Tuesday, 6PM 

Shoreside Condos

—

Another chime comes from Namjoon’s email. He continuously types, re-organizing and triple checking the calculations of his spreadsheets. 

He sits on the couch with multiple sheets of paper which lay on the unoccupied space of the table and couch, in some type of clean mess. In the background, his flat screen plays a film from some movie channel that he stopped paying attention to a while ago. His only company, Rapmon, lays on the carpet near Namjoon’s feet—practically blending himself into the white, soft texture. The keyboard clicks continue for a couple more minutes, before he decides to check his email. 

Hello Mr. Kim, 

How are you this evening? I am sending this email to let you know there are some adjustments that need to be made to the reports. Below, I have some attachments for you to check. 

Please let me know once they are completed. Have a good evening. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. 

Sincerely, 

Bang Sihyuk 

-- 

Head Manager of the Big Hit Management Team 

Lee Corporations 

Namjoon lets out a sigh. Guess it’s more work for him. Jokes on Bang though—he didn’t give him a deadline. Loopholes are a wonderful thing. 

He shuffles with the papers on the table, trying to find the remote. Once it’s spotted, he lowers the volume. He looks at the overall mess, ultimately deciding it’s better to clean it up, somewhat. As he pushes some of them back into their manila folders, he hears a whine. 

With a scratch behind Rapmon’s ears, Namjoon gives him a little kiss. “You hungry, baby?” Namjoon gives a small smile, as Rapmon pants. “I’ll get some food for my good boy.” 

He lifts himself from the sofa, already abandoning his clean-up attempt. Rapmon bounces alongside with him and they head into the kitchen area. Opening one of the lower cabinets, he easily pulls out the dog food and puts it into the doggy bowl.

Leaning on the countertop, he looks down adoringly at his pupper. “I should probably get something to eat too.” He pats his stomach. “It’s been empty.” 

He pushes himself off and shuffles over to the refrigerator. However, a white card, decorated with lace, catches his attention. He sighs, plucking the card off the refrigerator magnet. 

Join us for the union of Minyoung and Junmyeon! 

January 11th, 2020 @ 5PM

Location: Sowon Temple 

—

Black tie dress. 

Reception to follow! 

See you there! 

Namjoon lets out another sigh, but from the migraine that formed. He’s gonna have to text Taehyung—maybe they can go wedding gift shopping together. Considering how much Taehyung spends, Namjoon is sure to balance out that…. Taehyung-ness. 

He grabs out his phone, sliding it open to his messages. 

Namjoon: yo, did you get a present for Junmyeon yet? 

The reply is nearly instant and comes all at once. 

Tata: oh shit 

Tata: i forgot 

Tata: shall we go shopping soon ? 

Namjoon: you read my mind 

Tata: it’s like we’re soulmates 

Tata: :) 

Namjoon: …. okay 

Tata: i love you :*

Namjoon: and you have now made it weird 

Namjoon: but ily too 

Tata: i’m screenshotting this for the groupchat

Namjoon: and goodbye

He shakes his head, silently laughing at Taehyung’s responses. He’ll make those plans later, once he’s got some more time. It’ll be fun to spend some more time with Tae. It’s been a couple of weeks since they’d hung out. While their time at the ice rink was fun, they spent more time struggling than skating together (well, at least Taehyung was the one struggling). 

But, right now, he’s got more work dumped on him. And he’s hungry. 

Rapmon looks up at him as Namjoon looks down at him. “Don’t look at me like that.” Namjoon opens the fridge without breaking eye contact. “This is for me. You got your bowl, buddy.”

January 11th, 2020 

Saturday, 7PM 

Junmyeon’s Reception 

Enchanted Evenings Restaurant 

—

“Although I am the oldest of our group,” Minseok says. “Junmyeon has taken care of me ever since I became friends with him. I’m sure that everyone in this room, who knows Junmyeon, knows that he has this thing where he cares more for others rather than himself. He’s the mother figure that everyone wants in their lives and we were lucky enough to have him as ours. But now, he’ll finally have someone to care for him this time around, for the rest of his life.” 

He turns to the main table and raises his glass. “I would like to dedicate this toast to Mi Young, on behalf of the exo boys. Thank you for putting up with all of us.” The crowd chuckles. “ And congratulations to the both of you, for finding someone who will faithfully look after you no matter what. Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

“Cheers.” 

Everyone respectfully clicks their glasses together, taking a sip and going back to their meals and their own little conversations. Namjoon looks up from his glass, seeing Taehyung across the table—chatting away with the other guests. Tae fits well with the others, despite looking out of place in his patterned suit (“It’s Gucci. I have taste,” Taehyung said, when he was picking up Namjoon).

Namjoon glances to the right… where you are seated. You happily drown your glass down, letting out an exhale from the refresher. 

You turn to him. “Do you think I’m allowed to drink more?” you ask. 

“(Y/N),” Namjoon says. “I think it’s better for everyone if you didn’t drink more.” 

You pout. 

Namjoon tries not to stare. 

“You, my friend,” you say with a point of your finger, poking his chest. “Need to loosen up.” You shake your empty glass at him. “What better way than with alcohol?” 

“Have you become an alcoholic? Is that what this is?” 

“Haha, oh so funny as always, Joonie.” 

“You know I try,” he says with a grin. 

He sets down the glass, turning his attention back to his plate—on it lies a pile of chopped lobster topped with little scraps of gold, which is paired with fresh caviar and foie gras sauce on the side. Everything looks so good that it practically glistens in the chandelier light coming from above the table. 

While there are many guests, the venue is actually very spacious. Each table has a good amount of space that the chairs don’t bump into one another when pushed out. And yet, there’s still a large amount of space dedicated to a multicolored dance floor (which has Baekhyun and Jongin written all over it, Namjoon notes). 

Even without the tables, anyone could tell it’s decorated tastefully. Above each table, there’s various lights that provide a nice atmosphere for the guests. The ceiling itself is painted plain white, but if anyone looks close enough there’s little specks of gold that shine against the light. In contrast to the ceiling, the walls were covered with wallpaper. The wallpaper is also white with gold accents, but there are also pearls that popped out of the walls—quite literally popped out. The kids who came with their parents have been feeling up the wall for the past hour or two. 

Namjoon knew the wedding would be boujee, since it is Junmyeon’s, but he’d almost forgotten about how loaded Junmyeon’s family actually is. 

“Who knew my most expensive meal would come from a wedding?” Go Eun says, from your other side. You let out a laugh. “It’s the Kim family, what more did you expect?” 

“I don’t know,” she says. “Maybe something corny.” 

“Honey, we’re past corny when we walked through those balloon arches.” 

Go Eun blinks, slowly nodding along as she comes to the realization. “Ah, I guess I never got over the whole senior-junior view I had of him in school.” 

“He’s got that vibe; he seems like a chill mentor.” 

“But realistically speaking,” Namjoon pitches in. “We know that’s far from the truth.”

“Considering how he dances to any Sistar song like (Y/N) to Hit Me Baby One More Time,” Go Eun pauses. “I think all of the guests here know that.” 

“Damn,” you say. “You really had to attack me like that, huh?” 

She gives you an innocent smile that feels not-so-innocent. “Hyerin’s reception videos circulated. What else was I supposed to do with their information?” 

You give her a teasing one in return, before returning to your plate once more. 

There’s a moment of silence at the table as everyone is starting to dive into their meals, except for the silverware that taps the plates and bowls. As the plates start to get cleared, the chatter picks up once more—especially as the newlywed couple makes their way around with Junmyeon holding the train of Minyoung’s dress. Taehyung stirs up the commotion as he sees them making their way over. 

“Here comes the lucky couple!” 

From the sudden, informal announcement, everyone cheers with their glasses—both empty and full—for the newlyweds. 

Junmyeon tucks a strand of Minyoung’s hair back with one hand and, with the other, he holds a glass filled with champagne that’s already lost its bubbles. “Thank you for coming, everyone. We really appreciate your presence here.” 

“It’s no problem,” Namjoon says. “We’re glad to be here.”

“We hope you like our presents!” Taehyung practically yells. “If you don’t, then deal with it because we lost the receipts.” He gives them one of his boxy smiles. 

Everyone gives a light-hearted laugh at Junmyeon’s face. 

“Is everyone okay?” Minyoung asks. She stands behind you and Namjoon, laying a hand on your shoulder. “Is the food good?” 

“Minyoung, this one plate is about the equivalent of my first year tuition,” Yeri says, looking at her. “The food is more than just good.” 

“Don’t worry,” you say, giving Minyoung’s hand a pat. “Everything is great.” 

She lets out an exhale. “I was just a bit concerned because Junmyeon decided the meals without me.” 

“Honey,” Junmyeon says. “The meals turned out great. (Y/N) agrees.” He turns to the rest of the table. “You guys are going to love the dessert.” 

“What’s for dessert?” Yunho asks, from one side of the table. 

“It’s a Golden Opulence Sundae,” Junmyeon says with a beam. 

“It’s got edible diamonds and a sugar forged orchid,” Namjoon whispers to you. “It was super trendy a couple of years ago, but it doesn’t mean the price went down.” 

Your eyes widen. “Goddamn,” you mouth to him. 

“Yeah, he went a bit overboard,” Namjoon says. 

Junmyeon pouts at Namjoon’s words and Minyoung pinches his cheek. Minho makes a gagging noise and Yunho has to hit him to get him to stop. 

“Anyways,” Minyoung says, pouring another glass for you and Namjoon. “Let’s enjoy the evening with a drink—cheers.” 

“Cheers.” 

“Cheers.” 

Around the table, everyone respectively tap their glasses against one another—Namjoon with you and Minho, you with Namjoon and Go Eun. 

“We would love to stay, but we need to get to the other guests,” Junmyeon says. 

“But,” Minyoung says. “Stay as long as you would like. Desert is coming and the cake will be cut soon after. So, please enjoy yourselves—at the table, on the dance floor, the pool out back—” 

“There’s a pool?” Heechul asks from the other side of the table. 

“Yeah, the doors will officially be open after thirty minutes or so,” Minyoung says. “Anyways, mingle and have fun. We’ll be around.”

“Enjoy yourselves, okay?” Junmyeon says with another smile. With his hand on her lower back, he guides her towards the other table behind yours. 

“They’re so cute,” you say with a pout. “I’m glad to see Minyoung with someone good for her.” 

“Same,” Namjoon says. “I haven’t seen Junmyeon this happy since…” He tries to think. 

“Since Sehun paid that one time for dinner?” 

Namjoon’s eyes light up. “Yeah!” He takes another sip of his glass. “I almost forgot about that.” 

“I couldn’t,” you say. “You don’t ever forget it if Sehun pulls out his wallet for you.” 

“Yeah, he only pulls out his wallet for Vivi,” Namjoon notes. “Big mood though.” 

You laugh. 

Everyone gets back to their plates, which now has the dessert and the reception goes on. The conversation flows, between all the guests—at their assigned tables, along with the other tables. Siwon visited Namjoon’s table on many occasions, just because of Yunho and Minho’s seats. Although, Namjoon will admit that their conversations are very impressive (many topics related around politics and social injustices in modern society, which was very impressive to be honest). 

The time continues to pass, but it’s hard to tell with all the conversation going on. While Namjoon is more introverted, he has been very engaged in many conversations with others—especially with you. It had only been about a year or two since you two had actually talked, caught up and all that good stuff. 

You two originally met in college, in one of your classes together—after all, the study group that suffers together, stays together. While Namjoon majored in business, you had actually studied what you wanted. Your drive and extrovertedness balanced with Namjoon’s realism and introvertedness, which created, what you believe to be, an iconic duo on campus (at least with your friends). 

While it is inevitable for people to lose touch after college, you were easily able to keep the connections. With the help of social media, you reached out and managed to keep contact with your close knit group of friends—including Namjoon and many others from college (and probably high school). 

Unfortunately for Namjoon, this also means reminders of the uni days—both good and bad (as previously mentioned: the mixtape promos on the quad)... 

“Expensive Girl was a fucking bop and you know it,” you say, scooping another spoonful of your ice cream. “What did you do with all of those CDs anyways?” 

Namjoon groans, wiping his face as if it’ll get rid of the embarrassment from the olden days. “Honestly, they’re probably in a box somewhere and collecting dust.” 

“Come on,” you say. “You have to admit that those songs were actually really impressive.” You smile at him. “You were really creative. What happened?” 

He sighs, setting down his, now empty, wine glass. “Nothing happened, (Y/N).” He pauses. “Real life just got into the way and… next thing I knew, I stopped making songs.” 

The look in your eyes softens. “Namjoon, you’re one of the most creative people I know,” you say. You lay a hand on his that rests on the table. 

His eyes land on yours. You continue. “You should do what you enjoy, while balancing out the realistic picture.” Your other hand pokes his chest once more. “You, of all people, should know that. Remember what happened sophomore year?” 

Ah, sophomore year. From what Namjoon remembers, you originally came into college undecided. It wasn’t until the beginning of sophomore year that you figured out what you wanted to do. (“Seeing you so driven about your music makes me more driven towards what I want to do,” you said to him. “Even if I suffer to the destination, my happiness afterwards is the most important to me and my future.”)  

Namjoon sighs once more, but it’s more of frustration towards himself rather than exhaustion. He can only say one thing. “Being an adult is hard.” 

You laugh at his statement—your hand unmoving from his, another thing Namjoon tries not to focus on, but he can’t because of the warmth of your hand. Yes, while the two of you are friends, if he said he never had non-platonic feelings for you would definitely be a lie. 

The tap of the mic interrupts his thoughts and the conversations start to simmer down once more. In the front, Junmyeon and Minyoung stand side by side. Minyoung is in a different wedding dress but it’s been shortened and paired with some white flats. Junmyeon’s jacket has been removed and his tie is loosened. 

“Hello?” Minyoung says. “Can everyone hear me?” Her smile grows, as she meets everyone’s eyes and nods. “While people have been able to enter the pool area, it’s officially been thirty minutes since dessert was served.”

“With that,” Junmyeon says. “The pool is officially open, along with the dance floor. We’re allowing song requests, along with karaoke mics. So, go wild.” 

“YEAH!” Chanyeol, Baekhyun and Jongdae simultaneously shout. 

Junmyeon immediately retracts his statement. “Not too wild!” Despite that warning, everyone knows it’s already too late. 

Jongin, Taemin, and Ten are the first ones to enter the dance floor as the music starts. Everyone easily joins in to circle around them and chaos starts to ensue, making space for the elderly to start to leave. As the other guests start to migrate towards the colorful tiles on the dance floor, the younger ones are more on the antisocial side—Yeri joins the table with Mark, Renjun, and her other university friends that were invited as well (considering that most of them can’t legally drink). Meanwhile, Yunho, Minho and Siwon continue their political conversations in another corner as their glasses are consistently refilled by the servers. 

At some point, Sehun simply puts on his sunglasses and holds a bright yellow floatie in one arm (“Sehun, we’re indoors,” Luhan says. “Your point?” he retorts). He walks past your table, saying something about how he needed the hot tub and a bottle of bubbly after this chaotic week—although, the nearly empty strawberry flavored vodka in his hand said a lot more about his lack of current sobriety. 

Meanwhile, you were long gone to the dance floor, being pulled in by Yuri and Hyoyeon. Go Eun was right; something just flips when Hit Me Baby One More Time plays. Namjoon remains at the table, watching the others continuously mingle and dance, as he engages in conversation with Jaebum and Taehyung. 

“You two came together?” Jaebum asks. 

“Yeah,” Taehyung says. “We went shopping together for Suho’s gift and he had no choice because he can’t drive,” Taehyung jabs a thumb towards Namjoon, who’s jaw drops. 

The audacity. 

“I suddenly miss Hoseok as my date,” Namjoon says. 

“It’s nice you all kept in touch,” Jaebum says, ignoring Namjoon’s pettiness. “It’s hard to do that nowadays.” 

“It really is,” Namjoon responds. 

Jaebum and Taehyung nod alongside him in response. At this moment, Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Jongdae are walking past them with black buckets to which splashes could be heard with each movement. 

“Hey guys!” Taehyung calls. 

Baekhyun turns towards the table and the three make their way to Namjoon and them. “Hey, Tae! Long time no see,” he says. “Nice to see you two again, thanks for coming,” Baekhyun says to Namjoon and Jaebum. “Did anyone wanna come to the pool?” 

Namjoon and Jaebum shake their heads. “I didn’t bring a swimsuit,” Namjoon says. 

“Same,” Jaebum says. “I forgot about it.” 

“Okay, good,” Chanyeol says. “Because you won’t want to swim in it later.” 

“What?” Jaebum asks. 

“We’re dying it pink,” Jongdae says. Their eyebrows raise in curiosity, but no one dares to ask. “Although, I think Kyungsoo has been catching on.” Jongdae’s eyes dart around, trying to catch sight of the short, but frightening man. 

“I’m sorry,” Jaebum says. “Not to be that guy, but, where’s your wife?” 

“She passed on the wedding invitation, so she’s at home with our daughter,” Jongdae says. His head tilts to the side and his eyes narrow. “Why?” 

“Just trying to understand why you left the house without your impulse control,” Jaebum responds with a smile. 

Jongdae pouts, but it’s ignored. 

“Wanna join?” Baekhyun asks. He has an innocent smile on, but his eyes are full of mischievousness. 

“I'll pass,” Namjon says with a raised hand. “But thanks for the offer.” 

“Same,” Jaebum says. “I don’t plan on messing with Kyungsoo.” 

“I’ll go with,” Taehyung says. “It’ll be interesting to see how all of this’ll unfold.” 

He waves the other two goodbye and points to Namjoon. “Text me if you want to leave early, but I’ll be at the pool, okay?” 

Namjoon nods. “Please be careful.” 

“Always!” 

Jaebum waits until they’re an earshot away. “I have a bad feeling about this.” 

Namjoon can only shrug. “But can you stop them?” 

“You got a point there.” 

From the other side of the venue, there’s a crash, followed by a splash, coming from the pool area and a yell louder than the music (which could only be Kyungsoo). 

“YOU BRATS!”

“Well,” Namjoon says. “They lasted longer than I thought.” 

Jaebum checks his watch. “Two minutes?” 

“Exactly.” 

No one is really sure of what happened with the dye (except for those who were actually in the pool). But it’s hard to concentrate on that when, out of the pool area, Jinki and Kibum emerge from the door with pool noodles, attacking one another with them with unnatural, pink frosted tips. Kyuhyun and Johnny are attempting to separate them, but are seemingly failing to do so. Jinki’s pool noodle hits Johnny, knocking him into a vase—luckily, he manages to catch it before it falls. 

… That is until Ten knocks into him as he shakes his ass along to Shakira’s Hips Don’t Lie. 

“Oof,” Jaebum says. “That’s… that’s rough, bro.” 

“Hopefully, no one notices?” 

“Hopefully.” 

Another server comes around, silently filling their glasses once more. 

“Thank you.” 

“Thank you.” 

They clink their glasses together in a silent toast and take a sip. Jaebum sighs, leaning back to his (well, your) seat. He takes another glance at the dance floor, spotting Heechul and Momo dancing their asses off. You would think that as dates they would be dancing together, but it looks more like they’re competing. Eventually, he spots you with some of the others. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t come here with (Y/N),” he says. 

Namjoon’s eyebrows raise. “What? What’d you mean?”

“I just mean..” He pauses. “It’s not bad that you two are friends,” he starts. “But, I was betting you two would be together… or, at least, in college.” 

Namjoon doesn’t know what to say, but Jaebum continues. “You two just had a lot of chemistry, and still do!” He pauses. “Not a lot of people can say that.” 

He nods. “Yeah, you’re right.” Namjoon looks out, easily spotting you from the crowd. It’s hard not to notice you as you twirl and dance around with some other guests—especially since someone managed to get you into a duck floatie. 

“I think it’s (Y/N) though,” he continues to say. “(Y/N)’s just sociable and… that outgoingness just makes people surround (Y/N).” 

“Is that what led you to (Y/N)?” 

From Jaebum’s question, Namjoon’s lips automatically pursed. “I-I guess it is.” 

Before Jaebum could say anything else, Give It To Me by Sistar starts to play and there’s a shout. 

“YES!” 

Before anyone could stop him, Junmyeon shimmies his way past the guests and towards the center—loudly singing along and doing all the dance moves. 

Without either one of the boys noticing, Minyoung stands behind them with another champagne flute that’s half empty. 

“Why hello, Mrs. Kim,” Jaebum says, looking rather cheeky. 

“Hello boys.” 

“So, Mrs. Kim,” Namjoon says. “What are you going to do about that?” he asks, pointing to the monstrosity that’s happening underneath the multi-colored disco ball.

“Uh, I don’t know,” she says. She swirls her glass and drowns it down. “Because I suddenly don’t know him anymore.” 

They laugh. 

“Well, that’s your husband now,” Namjoon says. “That’s all on you.” With those words, he tilts his glass towards his mouth, emptying it out once more for the night. 

January 27th, 2020 

Monday, 8AM 

The Roasted Bean

—

The sound of chatter and the smell of coffee fill the air as Namjoon steps into the familiar coffee shop. While some of his fellow co-workers sit at separate tables, typing away on their laptops and drinking from their espresso cups, they all collectively ignore his presence—too preoccupied with their own matters. His body automatically places himself in line; his head poking up every once in a while to get a glance of Yoongi behind the counter. 

Since it is early and they are located in the business district of the city, Namjoon expected for the line to be fairly long. As the time continues to pass, Namjoon quietly hums along to the songs that play on the morning radio, occasionally nodding along with the beat. He gets closer and closer, eventually giving a smile at the frowning barista. 

“How are you doing that?” Yoongi asks. “It’s, like, dawn.” 

“It’s eight in the morning,” Namjoon points out. “Not exactly dawn.” 

He brushes the comment off. “You’re here earlier than usual. What happened to 9 to 5, Dolly Parton?” 

“Nothing really,” he says with a shrug. “I just have some extra work to do and I should be able to leave an hour earlier.” 

Yoongi makes a face with nothing short of disgust. “I still don’t understand how you’re able to just go to work like that.” 

“You’re at work though.” 

“Okay, but here, I get free coffee.” 

“Isn’t that stealing?” 

“Not if I mess up,” he says with a wink. “Speaking of messing up orders, how can I mess up yours?” 

“The usual is fine,” Namjoon says. “Thanks, Yoongi.” He gets a grunt in response, so he takes that as his cue to head over to the side where the stirrers, creamers, and sugar lay. As he absentmindedly fiddles with the sugar packets, he goes back to humming along with the songs. 

A tap on his shoulder interrupts his thoughts. A familiar grin greets him. 

“I thought that was you,” you say. 

His smile mirrors yours. “Hey, (Y/N). I almost didn’t recognize you in the daylight.” 

“And I almost didn’t recognize you without alcohol in my system.” 

Namjoon laughs. “What are you doing here?” 

“You’re asking me what I’m doing in a coffee shop?” 

He gives you a look. “You know what I mean.” 

You let out a laugh of your own. “Well, I just was visiting my friend, who works down the street, and I heard this place has the best coffee.” 

His eyebrows raise. “Well, consider me pleasantly surprised.” 

“Thanks?” You let out another laugh, smiling as you move yourself towards him, along with the sugars and creamers. 

You both end up fiddling with the little packets, nodding along to the music together silently. Namjoon glances towards you, eventually nudging you to get your attention again. You hum in response. 

“You still prefer the french vanilla creamer?” 

“Yes, sir,” you say. You pluck it from his hands with a twinkling look in your eyes. 

He glances over again, catching your eye. He lets out an awkward chuckle. “What?” 

“Nothing,” you sing. “I just can’t believe you still remembered that.” 

“Considering how we spent most of our college years over-caffeinated,” he says. “It’s safe to say I remember it.” 

“Over-caffeinated?” You think for a moment. “Sounds about right.” You pause for a moment. “Oh!” 

Namjoon slightly jumps from your random shout, which you do apologize for. 

“Sorry.” You put a hand on his arm with a not-so-innocent smile. “I just remembered: are you going to Moonbyul’s wedding?” 

He thinks. It had been a while since he received the invitation, but he definitely remembers getting it. “Yeah,” he says, after a moment. “Yeah, Jin and I are planning on going together.” 

“Still can’t drive?” you ask with a mischievous twinkle in your eyes. 

“You know what,” he says. “I can’t and there’s no problem with me not having a license.” 

“I didn’t say there was.” You sniffle your laughter, as he pouts. 

“Don’t license-shame me.” 

“Not a thing, Joonie.” 

Before he can reply, he’s interrupted by Yoongi, who calls for him. 

“Namjoon!” 

You give him another smile, before heading back to the line. “I have to get back in the line. I’ll see ya. Thanks for the creamer.” 

Before he heads back to the main counter, he gives you a little nod.

He tries to ignore Yoongi’s cheeky grin. “Don’t say anything.” 

“Okay,” Yoongi says. “I’ll ask instead. Who was that and why do you look all slap-happy?” 

Ah, semantics. They were going to get him some day. Namjoon sighs. “That was (Y/N).” 

“From college (Y/N)?” 

“College (Y/N).” 

“Ahhhh.” He smirks. 

“Can you not?” Namjoon groans.

“Didn’t you tell me you used to have a crush on (Y/N)?” 

“Can we not?” 

“Not what?” 

“Elaborate.” 

“Oh, okay. So,” Yoongi starts. “From your exact words: (Y/N) is technically your first love, but you never confessed out of fear—of both ruining your friendship and also rejection, which is only natural. You thought you had a chance at graduation, where you knew the ties could or could not be severed. And yet…. you still didn’t confess and, now that you’ve run into your old flame…” His eyebrows raise in question. “How are things, ‘Joonie’?” 

Namjoon’s eyes narrow at him in speculation. “You remembered those details rather vividly.” 

Yoongi shrugs. “My therapist says I have good listening skills.” 

“You really have an answer for everything,” Namjoon mutters. 

“And yet, I’m the one who’s a high school dropout.” 

For once, Namjoon blanks, before deciding to change the subject. “I thought you said my order is ready.” 

“It is.” Yoongi sets the large cup onto the counter and gives a bright smile that is filled with sarcasm. “Bone apple tea.” 

“Thanks?” 

“It’s lingo,” he says. “Keep up with the times, man. You’re younger than me.” 

Namjoon groans, but he can’t suppress his grin. “Have fun with the morning rush. I’ll see you later, man.” 

“See ya.” 

On his way out, he gives you another wave goodbye, to which you wave back.

As he officially leaves the cafe shop, he makes his way back to the office. While his mornings are rather shitty, Yoongi does tend to make them brighter—but seeing you, on top of that, might have given him more energy than the coffee does.

February 14th, 2020

Friday, 8:30PM 

Moonbyul’s Reception

Celebration Ceremonies Wedding Hall 

—

“I think we can all agree that Moonbyul has a stronger image,” Hyejin says. “Despite the more masculine stereotype she’s categorized in, Moonbyul is a very loving, sweet, and tender person.” She pauses. “Although, Heewon probably already knows this.” 

She turns to the rest of the guests. “People say that love is supposed to make you feel nervous—your heart will pound and the anxiety will make you sweat. But, I think, love means sharing yourself with another person and you’re willing to work together to build that life with one another. Byul is someone you can share anything with—she makes everything feel more comfortable. Rather than making you nervous, she makes you feel at ease.” 

She pauses. “Heewon, you’re very lucky to have someone so dedicated and hardworking by your side. And, while I may not have known you for very long, I know you’ll take great care of her. Congrats to the MoonWon couple and may your marriage be blessed for all eternity.” 

Light applause is given throughout the room and Hyejin makes her way back to her seat at the main table, with the other bridesmaids and immediate family members of the two brides. 

Light conversations begin once again at each of the guest tables—Moonbyul and Heewon remain seated at their table, having greeted the guests earlier as they entered the reception hall. In the background, classical music plays softly (although, live music will continue to play after the cake has been cut). 

It’s been calm so far, but who knows what will happen once the bar’s open. 

Namjoon takes another sip from his water glass, listening as Seokjin rambles on about the perfect ramen. Next to Jin, there’s Hani and Yura, who look half confused and half-amazed at how much he knew about food. On the other side of Namjoon, Junghwan and Myungsoo are eating away at their plates, practically cleaning them with their utensils as they scrape the food off (despite that, Namjoon swears he heard both of them ask if doggy bags were doing to be given out). 

“There’s this cute little shop that Namjoon and I used to go to all the time. Remember, Namjoon? It had that seafood theme with the cute decorations?”

Namjoon’s head turns from his name being mentioned. “Yeah?” He blinks, recalling the cute fish tanks they had along the wall. Granted, the restaurant also sold sushi and he always felt guilty whenever he ordered the sashimi platters. “We should go back there sometime. They really do have the best ramen there. You should give it a shot, if you get the chance.” 

“I’m always up for food,” Hani says. “I’ll take the girls with me someday since you’re giving it such high praise.” 

“Well,” Namjoon says. “Maybe when Hyerin gets back from her honeymoon.” 

“Very true.” 

“It does sound like a cute date spot,” Yura adds. “Maybe I’ll get lucky enough to find someone to go with here.” 

“Ooh,” Seokjin says. “I’ll share the address with the newlyweds too. They can go on cute dates together!” Seokjin turns back to Namjoon with a pout. “We don’t go on any dates anymore.” 

“I’m busy at work, you know this.” 

“You can still try to make time like you do with Jimin, at least.” 

“I didn’t know you were dating,” Hani says, glancing between them. “Have you been together long?” 

Namjoon nearly chokes on his food from the laugh that escapes his throat. 

“We’re not dating,” Seokjin answers. “Namjoon’s got his eye on someone else.” Namjoon gives him a questionable look, which he ignores. “As a little birdie has told me.” 

Damn Yoongi and his big mouth. 

At that moment, there’s some microphone feedback coming from the front. 

“Hello?” Yongsun and Jaehwan stand on the stage and Yongsun carefully taps the microphone in her hand. “Hello, everyone. Can you all hear me?” 

“Yes!”

She smiles. “Well, I hope you’re all having a good time. We're just about to cut the cake, but, before that, Jaehwan and I have prepared a duet for the new couple for their first dance! I hope you all enjoy it and another congratulations to our brides.”

Jaehwan gives a thumbs up to the DJ in the corner, who gives another in return and starts to play a soft melody. The lights dim and, from Namjoon’s line of vision, he sees Moonbyul stand, bowing to her wife with a hand out to invite her to the dance floor. The two make their way to the middle and slowly start to sway together. Others start to join in too, listening to the soothing music provided by Yongsun and Jaehwan. 

Namjoon nods along to the song, along with the many others who stayed at their tables. He takes a glance around, spotting some of the other guests and that’s when he sees you with Wheein and Eric. An automatic grin appears on his face as he sees you. The three of you are holding hands and slowly swaying to the beat with bright, proud smiles as you all look at the lovely couple. 

He glances to the side, only to see Seokjin with a smug face. He feels the heat creeping back up his neck and towards his cheeks. Namjoon clears his throat, shifting in his seat from his friend’s eyes. “What?” 

“I think you know what.” 

“No, I don’t.” He clears his throat once more, feeling it dry up. “Stop staring at me like that.” 

“Staring at you like what?” 

“Like what?” Seokjin tilts his head in a mocking manner. 

Namjoon sighs as he closes his eyes and shakes his head. “You know what I mean.” 

“No,” he says in a singsong tone with a higher pitch. “I don’t~” He gives another look to Namjoon, speaking up again, back in his normal tone. “That’s what you sound like right now. You can’t lie to me and you know it.”

Namjoon lets out another sigh. He does know it; he really can’t lie, especially to one of his best friends. Because of this though, he’s going to be teased endlessly. “Do you remember (Y/N)?” 

“Of course I do,” he says. “How could I ever forget the person you pined over for the entirety of college and afterwards?” 

“Can you please not mention that part?” 

“How could I not, though?” Seokjin tilts his head with a little smile that’s nothing short of mischievous. “You never confessed too, so that just added onto the secondhand frustration I had whenever you two were together.” 

“Oh my God,” he mutters. “I’m just gonna stop talking altogether.” 

“No, no, no,” Seokjin whines. “Please continue, I’ll be quiet.” 

“Okay,” Namjoon says with a sigh. “I may… or may not, have ran into (Y/N) a couple of times at some other weddings and the coffee shop—” 

“Which is where I got my info—” 

He gives him a look, which shuts him up. 

“Sorry,” he says. “Proceed.” 

“(Y/N) is also here—” 

Seokjin squeals, clapping his hands together—unable to contain his excitement. “Where? Where? Where?” 

“(Y/N)’s with Eric and Wheein right now.” 

“So? Go join them; talk to them, chat ‘em up.” 

“Dude, you’re a great hype man,” Namjoon says. “But, not that great. (Y/N) seems busy, I shouldn’t interfere with that.” 

“What you lack, my friend, is the confidence.” He pauses. “Do you need some of mine? Because I’d be happy to rub some onto you.” 

“No, thank—” Even though Namjoon (halfway) rejected him, Seokjin is already rubbing his hands onto Namjoon’s face and, at that, with a bright smile as he smushes his best friend’s face. 

After a couple of seconds, Seokjin pats Namjoon’s face, admiring his ‘work’ for a second. “There. You are set.” He gives Namjoon a little push. “Now go.” 

“Now?” 

“Of course now; they’re starting to cut the cake and (Y/N)’s gonna be alone.” He makes a shoo-ing motion with his hands. While Namjoon would rather let his anxiety take over, Seokjin’s got a point. Yongsun and Jaehwan have finished their duet; Moonbyul and Heewon have already moved on to cutting the cake, which have taken most of the guests’ attention—even Hani and Yura have moved themselves towards the front (granted, anything with food will draw them in). Better now than never. 

Namjoon stands up, straightening out his shirt and tightening his tie. Seokjin gives a thumbs-up and a pat on the butt, before Namjoon sets off towards your table. 

He takes long strides with, little to some, confidence. By the time he gets near your table, he stops behind you and lightly taps your shoulder. 

You turn around, greeting him with a bright grin. “I knew you’d be around somewhere!” 

“You were looking for me?” He tries not to look too shocked. 

“Considering how you said you were going to be here… Yeah, I kind of was.” You turn back to Eric and Wheein. “Scootch over, y’all. Namjoon’s got a seat next to me.” 

“Don’t even worry about it,” Eric says. “We’ll be out of your hair in a second.” 

“We’re gonna go get some cake and then we’re gonna go to the bouquet toss too,” Wheein says. “I also have to stop Hyerin from running into the kitchen to get more of the food. Don’t worry though, we’ll be back.” 

They both get up, waving you both goodbye, and catch up with the rest of the crowd. 

Meanwhile, you turn back to Namjoon. “So, what brought you over?” You lean your chin on your hand. “Was it my sparkling aura you felt the presence of?” 

He laughs, responding with a teasing tone of his own. “What else could it have been otherwise?” He shifts in his seat. “Are you having fun?” 

“You know me, Joonie,” you say with a laugh of your own. “I’ll find a way to have fun.” You eye him. “Are you having fun? Or are you planning on being anti-social again?” 

“Again?” His eyebrows raise. “How dare you. I am an introvert, not anti-social. I came to you this time.” 

“Uh-huh,” you say with crossed arms. “This time being the key phrase. Don’t you have other friends?” 

“I have other friends.” He pouts. “I came here with Seokjin.” 

You gasp. “I haven’t seen him in so long. I need to catch up with him; I miss him.” You poke your head around towards the dance floor, waving to Seokjin—who is currently doing his infamous traffic dance underneath the disco lights. 

“Wow. Really feeling the love here, (Y/N).” 

You turn back to him with a teasing smile and poke your finger into his dimple that he doesn’t even bother to try to swat away. “I’ve missed you too, Joonie.” 

He quickly takes your hand off his face, hoping you didn’t feel the heat that rises to his face. 

“We can make plans too,” you say with a nudge. “You know, instead of meeting at all these weddings.” 

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “That’d be a lot easier.” 

“Give me your phone.” 

Namjoon reaches into his pocket, easily pulling out his phone and hands it over to you. He lets you tap around on it, until he realizes something. “Wait, what are you doing? I have your number.” 

“I’m checking your schedule,” you say. “Makes things easier to plan.” You look up from the screen. “Especially since you’re an important businessman.” 

He closes his eyes, in an attempt not to laugh at the ridiculous statement, but the grin on his face gives his emotions away. 

You scroll through his calendar, before landing on a date. “I’m free for lunch on Wednesday.” You dangle the phone in front of him. “Think you can make some time for me?” 

“(Y/N), I can always make time for you.” He really hopes that didn’t sound as desperate as it did. 

However, he doesn’t think you care—as he spots the large grin on your face. 

“Great,” you say. “It’s a date.” 

Namjoon is unable to say anything, as he’s sabotaged by his own friend. 

Seokjin dances his way over, pulling him onto the dance floor. “Need to borrow him, thanks! I’ll catch up with you later, (Y/N)!” He gives a light push to Namjoon, who’s trying to keep up with Seokjin’s dance moves. “How’d it go?” 

“We set a date?” He tries to collect his thoughts, but he’s having issues with processing it. “I think?” 

“See what happens when you have a little confidence?” He interrupts before Namjoon can answer. “You’re welcome.” 

“Oh my God,” he mutters with disbelief. Sometimes, he really can’t believe the amount of confidence that this one man has. 

“Now keep dancing, that’s how we’re gonna make our way closest to the bouquet. I’m catching that and no one can stop me.” 

“Seokjin, why are you like this?” 

“Oh hush, you love me.” Seokjin does a little body wave to skim past the other guests. “Y’all better watch out ‘cause the king is coming!” 

February 19th, 2020

Wednesday, 12:30PM 

Emerby Eateries 

—

Namjoon’s fingers tap against the table, checking his watch for the time once again. He takes another sip of from his water glass, oddly feeling the anxiety hit. Does this count as a date? You did say it was a date, but… is this really a date? 

Before he can linger too long on the thought, the seat in front of him is taken—by you. You’re slightly out of breath and, from the sight of your hair being slightly out of place, he can assume you did a small run on your way here before you were any more late than you already were. 

“You’re late,” he says with a singsong tone. He picks up the menu, pretending to glance over the options. “You really haven’t changed since college.” 

“Tsk, tsk, Joonie.” You brush off his statement with a wave of your hand. “You’re just too punctual. I was just a couple of minutes late.” 

“More like ten minutes late.” 

“Potato, potato.” You grab your menu, glancing through the appetizers. “Time’s an illusion anyways.” 

He tries to stop his laughter, but one look at you and he breaks his fake anger. 

“Did you order anything without me?” you ask. 

“Of course not,” he says. “I figured you would want to share anyways, so you can decide on what you want.” 

“And jack the bill up? I’m not that type of person.” 

“Stand down,” he says. “Not what I meant.” 

You chuckle. “I’m just pulling your leg. But, seriously, is there anything you’ve set your heart on ordering?” 

“Well, the sandwiches look good.” His tongue clicks as he contemplates on his order. “I usually get those whenever I’m here, so I’ll probably get one. Do you know what you want?” 

“Not really, I’ve been stuck on the appetizers. Did you want to split one?” You set your menu down, but your eyes don’t leave it. “They got fried pickles and I kind of want to try them. They also have those cheese balls that those mukbang youtubers eat.” You look up at him. “I kind of want to try those, not gonna lie.” 

He smiles at the way your eyes sparkle at the thought. “I’m not stopping you, you know.” 

“I know, but will you eat it with me? I’ll even pay for them.” 

“Damn, (Y/N),” he says with a hand on his chest. “That’s how I know your love is real.” 

You let out another laugh at his words and Namjoon couldn’t help but admire how carefree you look. While the two of you were a chaotic duo, the chaos was more drawn out from your side—not really chaos, it was more of your impulsiveness. But, it doesn’t mean he didn’t enjoy those memories with you. In fact, he cherishes them the most from his college memories. 

He still can’t believe he let you convince him of breaking into the campus gym’s pool. There was also that time when you two were drunk and you told him you wanted to try rock climbing—at the end of the night, you took an hour to climb up to his top bunk, declared success, and passed out once your head hit his pillow. You also broke into a classroom with him, to explain your theories on how birds work for the bourgeoisie (while the theories were insane, he had to admit you had a really convincing argument, which was probably due to all those essays you had to write). 

“Do you know what you would like?” 

The server’s question makes him snap out of his thoughts. He looks at you expectantly and you do him the solid by answering first. 

“We’re gonna need some more time for the entrees, but could I get a couple of appetizers first?” 

“Of course, whenever you’re ready.” 

“Okay, so we’re going to start with the fried cheese balls with some fire sauce on the side, along with some fries.” 

“Anything to drink?” 

“I’m good with water.” You look to Namjoon. 

“Uh, me too. Water’s fine.” 

You both thank your server before she leaves and turn back your menus when she’s out of sight. There’s a moment of silence as you both deliberate on what to get. Namjoon’s already figured he would just get what he usually does a while ago; his menu is shut and left on the side as he waits for you to figure out what you want. He can only shake his head; you’re still just as indecisive as before. 

Light pop music plays in the background and his fingers tap along with the beat. He moves his focus to the window where people continue to pass by on the busy city street. It’s lunchtime, so he expected the foot traffic to pick up a bit (and it did)—which was why he wanted to go a bit earlier. After another moment, he turns back to you, only to see you already looking at him. 

“Having fun?” you ask with a quirk of your lip. 

“Always.” He leans back in his chair. “You figured out what you want?” 

“Yeah, it took a bit but I figured it out.” 

When the server comes over again, the appetizers are served and you both order the entrees. You and Namjoon split the appetizers, nearly finishing them until the entrees were ready. Between all this time, you two actually catch up. It’s more than just the casual conversations you’ve had at those weddings—you’re both taking more time to listen to one another (in a more sober conversation) and actually talk about the things you didn’t manage to get to. Next thing you knew, it’s already been nearly an hour. 

“Can you believe that we’re actually adults living in this capitalistic society?” You set your glass down. “We’re doing things like paying for bills.” 

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s called responsibilities.” He lets out another laugh at the face you make from his word choice.

“Ugh, that’s disgusting. Don’t make me choke.” You take another sip of your water. “You know one way of knowing there’s the transition from childhood to adulthood is attending more funerals than weddings.” 

“It seems more like the opposite for us, don’t you think?” 

“Oh my God,” you groan. “You’re so right though. The amount of weddings I’ve been attending…” You shake your head, as if to convince yourself the number is lower than it actually is. “It’s kind of ridiculous. Don’t get me wrong, I love all of my friends, but Jesus Christ, it’s like they all had a pact to get married around the same time and decided to leave me out.” 

Namjoon sighs, playing with the leftover sauce on the side. “I’ve been to, like, five last year and I’m pretty sure it’s going to keep coming.” 

“I really feel you, Joonie. I really do. I have a couple more I have to go to later.” You let out a sigh. “Curse me for being so friendly with others.” 

“Haha, this is what you get for being popular.” 

“I am not popular; I just happen to be a bit more extroverted than you.” 

“More like a lot,” he says. “You definitely used to be a popular kid in high school.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. What’s wrong with a couple more friends?” 

“No, no, there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s a compliment: people enjoy your company and that’s how you managed to keep the ties you still have…” He pauses. “Like me.” 

You give him another teasing smile. “Glad to know you enjoy my company.” 

“It’d be awkward if I didn’t, considering I decided to have lunch with you.” 

“Oh, yeah, by the way, how long are your lunch breaks?” 

“Since I’ve moved up to management, I get more time, so about an hour or so—give or take.” 

Your eyebrows raise. “Wow, look at you.” 

He tries to suppress the blush from the look you give him. 

“And despite all of this,” you continue to say. “You still don’t have your license?” 

“Why are you bringing this up again?” He groans. 

“It came up organically when I was with Seokjin,” you say. “You know... After he managed to steal the bouquet from Sunmi’s hands.” 

“So,” he says with a glint in his eye. “You did talk to Seokjin that night?” 

“Yeah, I did. Found out a little bit about what you’ve been doing after college.” 

“So you talked about me?” 

For the first time today, the blush starts to creep up your face. Namjoon raises an eyebrow at the sight; for once, he seems to have the upper hand. You clear your throat, before taking another sip of your near-empty glass. 

“Don’t try to change the subject,” you say. “You still don’t have your license.” 

“I-I just never had the time and the office is close to my apartment…” He tries to find the words (excuses, if he’s really being honest). “All of my friends have their licenses, so I don’t see the appeal of getting one.” 

“So, what I’m hearing is, you have a uncommitted chauffeurs.” 

“Oh my God, (Y/N),” he says with a laugh. “I don’t have that much money yet.” 

“Yet. That’s the word to focus on.” 

You both laugh again. 

“Well, I would love to be your chauffeur anytime,” you say with another grin. “That is if you pay me for gas money.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says. “Thank you for the offer though.” 

“It’s no problem.” You let out a sigh, but it’s more relaxed than tired. “I’m serious though. If you need a ride, you can always ask.” 

“I know, I know,” he says. He swirls his glass, trying to distract himself before he lets out his next words. “I know I can count on you anytime.” 

The sparkle in your eyes returns and Namjoon has to stop his heart from skipping a beat at the sight. 

March 10th, 2020

Tuesday, 4PM 

Shoreside Condos

—

Hey! Just a friendly reminder to RSVP to our wedding! 

We’d love for all of you to join! 

See you then! 

- Anna Young and Eric Nam

Namjoon squints at the email and its neat, curly font. If he didn’t have Eric’s email saved, he definitely would have thought it was some type of subscription he signed up for and completely forgot about from the words alone. 

He makes a mental note to dry-clean his fancy suit before the time comes. Although, realistically speaking, he has more than enough time to do so. He can probably (and most likely will) procrastinate on it.

As he tries to make the mental arrangements, in the background, the television plays on another generic movie channel that doesn’t play anything remotely worth paying attention to (he might make an exception for The Hunger Games though). Rapmon sits on the couch, next to Namjoon, with his front paws and head laying on Namjoon’s legs. One hand pets Rapmon softly and the other hand hovers over his laptop’s keypad as he quickly RSVP’s for the wedding and reception. 

Namjoon easily fills it out with one hand, humming along as he taps the individual keys. However, he realizes that there is a problem after submitting the form: he has no ride. From what he can recall, the others probably aren’t going, considering these were two separate friend groups—so there’s no point in asking anyone for a possible ride. Then again, he could always get an uber or carpool with someone else. 

He sucks in a breath, praying someone he knew would be on the guest list. Going back to his email, he looks over those who were sent the same email.

While he is acquainted with over half of the people, there isn’t anyone close enough he could ask. Jackson’s most definitely going with his long-time partner and there is no way Namjoon wants to be between the two of them. On the other hand, Amber is probably going with a group of people and he’s not really up for a conversation with a bunch of people he’s unfamiliar with. On top of all that, Eric is very sociable, so there are bound to be guests from all sorts of places (considering the unknown names from the email). 

Although....there is another option. 

He quickly picks up his phone, scrolling through his contact list. His finger stops as he hovers over your contact. He taps on it, but can’t find the courage to hit any button. The contact photo of you, smiling with a bundle of puppies (from that time you wanted to pet a bunch of puppies at Petco), is what his eyes linger on the most. 

While the rational side of his mind knows you would be ecstatic to go to Eric’s wedding with him, the irrational side tells him that he shouldn’t bother you. What if you think he’s just using you for rides? Are you just going to drop him off? Should he invite you as a date? But, most of all, what if you just flat out reject him? 

Rapmon senses his master is upset and tilts his head up at Namjoon as his paws start to pat him—at least, his leg—to make him feel better. Namjoon can only smile, patting his head in response as a silent thanks for the attempt to comfort him. However, because of that… 

“No!” 

One of Rapmon’s paws hits the call button and Namjoon can feel ten years of his life being shaved off as the tone starts to ring. 

“Ahhh!!!” 

Out of panic, he drops the phone quicker than a hot potato. Luckily for him, it lands on the soft carpet below. He looks to Rapmon, who looks around, panting—without a care in the world, as if nothing was wrong. 

But right now, everything is wrong. 

Before Namjoon could even pick up the phone, nevertheless hang up, the ringing tone stops and there’s a soft response. 

“Hello?” 

He stumbles around, trying to grab the phone, but hitting the coffee table with his foot and falling on his ass. “Oh shi—” 

“... Hello?” 

“Sorry!” he shouts aloud. He quickly puts himself together, sitting back on the couch and leans down to grab his phone. He clears his throat, before speaking. “Hello?” 

“Hey, Joonie.” He can hear your grin over the phone. What’s up?” 

“Oh, nothing much..” He lets a small exhale, trying to calm himself from the embarrassing situation. “Um, what’s up with you?” 

“Nothing really?” He hears some clutter as you are shifting the phone on your shoulder. “I’m just at home. You know, doing this and that.” 

“Oh, oh. Uh, sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you—” 

“Namjoon, you can never bother me,” you say. “What’s up though? Not that I mind you calling me a bit out of the blue.” 

He opens his mouth, unable to really find the words. “So, uhm… This is kind of stupid.” 

“More stupid than you cutting that onion?” 

“That was one time.” His eyes close, trying to repress his laughter and the embarrassing memory. “Let it go!” 

There’s a laugh on the other side of the line; your laugh is infectious, causing Namjoon to burst into a laughing fit as well. 

“Um, okay,” he says. He lets out a sigh. “This is, like, way earlier than I originally intended.” 

“Come on, Joonie. Spit it out; it’s just me.” 

That’s the problem though: it’s you. But he can’t say that without it sounding weird. His lips twist to try to find the right words. “Do you remember Eric?” 

“You mean the guy I met at Moonbyul’s wedding?” 

“Yeah, him.” 

“Yeah, I remember him. Why?” 

“Well, he invited me to his wedding…” 

“Oh, good for him.” 

“Yeah.. but I was wondering…” Maybe he shouldn’t ask, but he does anyways. “If you could give me a ride?” 

You let out a small laugh. “Of course I can give you a ride.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, when is it?” 

“It’s in April, which is, like, a month away, but—” 

“Considering how I can’t even plan the next day, I’m sure I’ll be able to give you a ride, like, a month later.” 

“Well,” he says. He can feel his shoulders tense a bit. “It doesn’t just have to be a ride…” His fingers absentmindedly toy with a decorative button on his couch. “Did you… did you want to be my plus one?”

There’s a bit of silence and Namjoon can only swallow, feeling all the moisture in his mouth. 

“... It depends.” 

“On what?” 

Your response is a bit softer from the original teasing tone you had before. “It depends if you really want me there.” 

He relaxes, easily leaning back onto the couch. “Of course I want you there, consider it a trade deal.” 

“A trade deal?” 

“I get a ride and you get free food?” 

You hum a bit into the phone. “I like that preposition, but could I refer to this as a favor?” 

“Considering that it is a favor,” he says. “Sure—I owe you one.” 

“I’m gonna hold onto that against you then.”

“I’m completely fine with that, (Y/N).” 

“Okay, just keep in touch and text me the details when you get the time.” 

Before you can hang up, he speaks up once more. “Hey, (Y/N)?” 

There’s a bit more shuffling, but it stops. “Yeah?” 

“Thanks.” 

“It’s no problem, Joonie. You can count on me anytime.” 

He smiles into the phone for the nth time and looks down at his feet, feeling the blush return. “I know.” He pauses. “I’ll-I’ll text you.” 

“You better, Joonie. I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Bye.” 

“Bye!” 

His phone screen turns black for a second, before returning back to your smiling contact image. His grin grows and he slumps back further into the couch, practically beaming once his body is bully molded with the couch. He turns back to his fluffy boy and plays with his fur, giving him thorough pets. “Such a good boy. I shall retrieve you a treat soon.” 

Rapmon barks happily at his spot, continuing to pant as he moves his eyes on the television screen. 

Meanwhile, Namjoon gets back to his spreadsheets, minimizing his personal email tab. He manages to do his tasks much happier now that he’s got something to look forward to. 

April 3rd, 2020 

Friday, 7:30PM 

Eric’s Reception

Bright Rings Event Venue 

—

“Anyone who knows Eric,” Eddie says. “Knows that he’s very easy-going. He’s able to get along with anyone, which is how he’s able to meet so many people and make so many friends. So, when I first introduced Eric to Anna, I thought this was nothing more than another just friends situation. Little did I know was that I would be standing here… as the best man for their wedding.” 

He moves himself closer to the main table, where the bride and groom are seated. “As Eric’s brother—and manager—I did not think that he would be married before me.” The crowd laughs light-heartedly. “Don’t worry, I’m not bitter about it. I’m glad Eric has found someone who’s willing to spend their life with him, especially after getting to know him.” He lets out a small laugh as Eric pouts from his seat. 

“Anyways, Anna—” He raises his glass. “This toast is for you. Consider this your official welcome to the Nam family.” 

The guests click their glasses with the others, exchanging pleasantries along the way. Namjoon comfortably smiles at you, and vice versa, before drowning a mouthful of the bubbly champagne that you two had previously cheered with. The chatter picks up once again as Eddie sits down next to his date at the main table with the newlyweds. Everyone resumes their conversations, slowly building up to, nearly, maximum volume. Birds of a feather flock together—Eric’s loud personality attracts many other eccentric personalities. 

Namjoon takes a look around, taking note of the other guests. There’s a wide variety of people; while some are from college, from what he could recall, most of them are unfamiliar faces and unrecognizable place settings. Although, he should thank Eric for his place setting—many of those at this table are faces he does know. 

Jackson and his long-time girlfriend and recently engaged fiance, Hua Yi, were seated (luckily) on Namjoon’s left side and you were placed to his right. On your right, you sat next to Amy Lee and Amber—who were like Eric’s non-biological sisters. You were making easy conversation with the other guests, both familiar and non, as per usual. Maybe it’s due to your presence, but Namjoon has been able to easily converse with others as well. 

Jaehyung, another close friend of Eric’s, is currently at the front of the stage to provide entertainment with his guitar. He sings a sweet melody, contributing to the light atmosphere—above all the chatter and light conversation happening. 

“You know, I’ve always wanted to play the guitar,” you say, leaning closer to him. “Maybe I should’ve joined the band kids in high school to pick up a little something.” 

“Well, I did band…. kind of.” His face contorts, remembering the piano lessons he was forced to participate in due to the school’s curriculum. “But, trust me when I say that it did nothing for me.” 

Your eyebrows raise. “Nothing?” You lean in closer, with an elbow propped on your knee. “You almost became one of those famous soundcloud rappers. I think you should give yourself some more credit.” 

“Yeah, well, I can only play chopsticks,” he says. “So, were those four years really worth it?”

“Is anything from high school really worth it though?” 

You both chuckle as the old memories from high school started to occupy your minds. To think that Namjoon had really spent four years, not knowing what the hell he was doing—only to study for four more years to survive life and work a stable job with a stable paycheck... Time really does just fly. 

“Oh my God,” he says. “High school was awful.” 

“College was fun though.” You let out a relaxed sigh as you lean back and your eyes nearly sparkle from the fond memories you’d made way-back-when. “That’s the time period anyone would go back to.” 

“I would prefer the experience without the debt though.” 

“Thank God for scholarships.” You give him a little nudge. “Am I right, Mr. 148-IQ?”

Namjoon rolls his eyes at your words in a playful manner.

Before he can respond back, microphone feedback plays through the speakers, causing most to wince at the sound. Eric and Anna have entered the stage area, nearly blocking Jae—who simply waves at the crowd with his head poking out from behind the couple. 

“Hello?” Eric says. “Can everyone hear me okay?” 

There’s a collective murmur and he speaks up once more. “Okay, we’re good. Before anything, let’s give another round of applause for Jae!” 

There’s a light round of applause for Jaehyung, who gives a big smile and wave. Eric continues to speak after it dies down a bit. “Thank you all for coming once again. We both really appreciate that you took the time to be here for us.” 

“Right now, we’re going to have our first dance,” Anna says. “So, we’re gonna slow things down with the musical accompaniment of our very own Ailee!” 

Next to you, Amy raises from her seat and makes her way to the stage. You, along with Namjoon, clap for her—cheering her on as she walks towards center stage. She chats a bit with Jaehyung as the two of them start to set up. After a bit, she does a bit of harmony with Jaehyung and, shortly after, the sweet, soft melody of the guitar starts to play. 

Anna guides Eric towards the middle of the dance floor, who’s got a grin the size of the entree plates; she places his hands on her waist and hers on his shoulders, leaning into him as the song continues to play. Other guests slowly join them as well, including Jackson and Hua Yi. 

In a couple of minutes, you and Namjoon are the only ones left at the table. You two continue to chat for the time being, even as the music changes and time continues to go by. The other guests come and go by your table (even Mark came by, but the thumbs-up he gives Namjoon made him quite flustered); some had left a bit sooner because of prior engagements they had arranged for the next day. 

By this point, it’s past three hours—the cake has already been cut and the bar is officially open for the rest of the evening. The loud personalities had just gotten louder as the night got longer. 

Yongsun’s alcohol tolerance has been hit as she swings on the stipper pole with a plate of cake in her hands. On the other hand, as the songs started to get more upbeat, Amy abandoned her post at the stage and headed towards the bar—where she’s been doing her own personal wine tasting (and karaoke session). Amber had briefly joined her, before deciding to lead an impromptu concert that may or may not have resulted with her currently crowd-surfing. Jackson is with Peniel… doing whatever they usually do (although, Namjoon definitely recalls Peniel holding very tightly onto a Naked smoothie bottle; something about getting naked at the reception). 

The chaos goes on, even with the two of you in your own little bubble. The only difference though… is the alcohol intake as the time had passed. Considering how many glasses you had drowned, along with the ones Amy kept recommending to you and the ones brought by other servers, Namjoon is starting to remember how good your tolerance is. Despite that, you are definitely starting to feel it hit hard all at once. Meanwhile, he’s suffering silently from a mere three glasses. 

You drown another glass of your white wine. “Ahh.” You lean back in your chair with closed eyes. “My guy, I definitely cannot drive for a while.” 

A giggle spills from his lips as the alcohol starts to flow throughout his system.  “I can’t drive at all.” 

You laugh along with him; his giddiness is contagious. “Are you drunk?” 

“Nope.” He pops the p, giving you a wide beam that showcases his perfect, shiny teeth.

You raise your eyebrows, but don’t say anything. You can’t focus on anything from seeing how red his face is. You can’t resist yourself and lightly tug on his ears—which are also a similar shade—to pull him a bit closer to you. “Joonie, you’re so cute when you’re drunk.” 

He feels the blood rush more into his cheeks, but he can’t help his smile growing from the compliment. Even as you’re squishing his cheeks together, he doesn’t pull away from your touch. 

“AYO!” 

Both of your heads turn towards the stage. Anna’s clearly had her fill of alcohol too. Her hair is in loose curls from the tight updo she previously had. She currently stands on the stage, the mic in one hand and her bouquet in the other; her wedding dress was already ripped—but it looks as if it was chopped with some basic kitchen knife—to a shorter length. 

“It’s time for the flower toss!” She waves it around, dangling it in front of the crowd. “Anyone who wants this can come and get it!” 

A small group of people start to push their way towards the front as Anna turns her back towards them. 

You divert your attention back to the man in your hands. “I’m gonna go.” 

“Will you be back?” 

“Very soon.” You look dead serious. “Swearies.” 

He nods his head (to the best of his ability, considering his face is literally in your hands) and watches on as you head towards the crowd, easily fitting in with the others. He leans his chin into his palm, watching you engage with a bunch of people, who are literal strangers to you. It’s amazing how you can easily and naturally insert yourself into a group of people. He knows he probably looks like some type of idiot, but, right now, you are the only thing that matters. 

Back at the stage, Anna counts, leaning back little by little with a swing of her hands. “3! 2!” 

Just as she tosses the flowers over her head, Mike yells. “Yeet!” 

“Mine!” Peniel calls. 

But Matthew gets there first. 

“Interception, bitch!” 

He knocks the bouquet from its original path. It was almost like a high school basketball match from the way it happened.

Next thing you know, a couple of grown ass men were starting a brawl over an overpriced floral arrangement. Jamie interferes the two, squeezing herself in between the two idiots and easily whacking them, effectively getting them to stop. 

“Not the tiddies!” 

“Shut the fuck up!” she yells. “This isn’t about you!” With each word, she uses the flowers to hit each of them. 

While everyone’s distracted, Jackson rips the flowers from Jamie’s hands. He makes his way over to Hua Yi, easily getting down on one knee. Before he says anything, Hua Yi rips the flowers out of his hands and yells. “We’re already engaged, you idiot!” There’s no harm in it, considering how wide her grin is and the blush that’s apparent on her cheeks. 

Eric, eventually, takes over the stage once more—his tie loose and tossed carelessly over his shoulder. Despite it being his wedding, he looks like he’s  seen some stuff happen. He stands next to Anna with the mic, which he definitely had to pry out of her hands, and simply sighs as he watches the chaos. “This is cancelled; y’all are banned—I’m calling the police.” 

Of course, everyone ignores his empty threat and continues to brawl over the flowers. 

Namjoon’s attention is taken away from the scene, as you move past the chaos, and head back towards him. You arrive back with a pout, immediately slouching back in your seat. He rests his chin on the table, inching closer to you with eyes that sparkle like an anime character. 

“I didn’t get it,” you whine. 

He pouts with you, feeling your pain. “I’m sorry.” 

You let out a sigh and proceed to take another shot. A drop spills from your lips, trailing down your neck and Namjoon’s eyes unconsciously follow it. 

“Joonie,” you say. 

His eyes go back to yours. “Yes.”

“I need ice cream.” 

“Ice cream?” His eyebrows furrowed together in concentration and thought. “They only have cake.” 

“Then we need to go to the ice cream, Joonie.” 

His eyes widen in a comedic size reeling you’re correct. He snaps his fingers, lifting himself from the table, and pointing directly at you. “You are a genius.” 

“I fucking know, bro.” You pause as you realize your predicament. “I can’t drive.” 

“Neither can I.” 

“Not like that,” you say. “I’ve had like…. more than five glasses.” 

“Really?” His mouth gaps open. “I lost count after the tenth one.” 

“Ten?!” You gasp. “Did I really drink that much?” 

“I don’t know, (Y/N). I said I lost count.” 

You blink at him, slowly coming to the realization of how much alcohol was actually in your system. “Oh my God.” Your pout returns. “But I want ice cream now.” 

He hums, rocking a bit in his chair, like an old man out on the front porch, to find some way out of the complication. His eyes finally met yours. “I think I have a solution.”

Friday, 11:45PM

After Eric’s Reception

Midnight Munchies

—

Your giggle overlaps with the sound of the bell that rings as you two walk into the late-night dessert shop. The workers greet you cheerfully, which you both respond back to. You are looking at the glass that showcases all the different flavors, whereas Namjoon tries to read the menu to the best of his ability—but his squinting shows how bad his vision is at the moment. 

Back at Bright Rings, after some common sense had slowly started to come back, you both searched up ice cream places nearby. Luckily, Namjoon found a place that served ice cream at this hour and it was close enough to walk to—resulting in an improvised, evening stroll which was just the two of you laughing at dumb jokes along the way (he may or may not have used some of Seokjin’s dad jokes along the way). 

Due to the lesser amount of drinks in his system, he sobered up a bit… On the other hand, yours still remained. But nothing can’t be fixed with a little bit of ice cream (at least, that’s what you said).

“Do you know what you would like?” 

Your attention has been turned to the server behind the counter. “Uh, not me.” Scooting closer to Namjoon, you give him a nudge. “Joonie, do you know what you want?” 

“I’m not sure,” he says with a slight frown. “What’d you think I should get?” 

You let out a small hum as you think, before pointing to the fruit flavors in the middle. “You like fruit flavored ice cream, and you definitely need to try something new, so I say you should get the melon.” 

“Okay,” he says with a nod. “I trust you.” He turns to the worker. “Can I please get a scoop of the melon ice cream?” 

“Would you like any toppings?” 

“Uhh.” He turns to you. “Should I?” 

“If you want some, then get some.” 

He hesitates a bit. “Strawberries?” 

The worker raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure?” 

Turning back towards the counter, he answers. “Yes.”

He receives his ice cream, waiting as you order yours and pays when you’re done—despite your protests. You two thank the staff and add some change into the tip jar, before heading out to go back to the venue to sober up a bit more. 

For a bit, you two are enjoying your ice cream in silence as you walk side by side. You both walk for about a block—his footsteps match yours and yours matches his. 

You’re the one who speaks up first. “Thank you for the ice cream.”

“It’s just ice cream, (Y/N),” he says. 

“Still,” you start to say. “Considering I practically pushed you into inviting me out—” 

“You didn’t push me. I wanted to invite you.” 

You look to him, simply giving him a small smile. “Thank you.” 

The two of you continue your walk back to the venue, but you abruptly stop and tug on Namjoon’s sleeve. 

“What’s up?” 

You point to an open park and, with another hand, you lightly shake his arm like an excited child. “Let’s go in there.” 

He smiles at the sight. “Okay, let’s go.” 

Your eyes gleam at him and you’re practically wiggling with excitement, before you sprint over towards the park gates like a child. 

He shakes his head with a chuckle as he follows behind you. By the time he’s caught up with you, you’re already settled underneath a nearby tree with a view of the lake. He heads towards you in long strides and silently seats himself next to you. 

You’ve already finished your ice cream—its remains left on the side. Namjoon manages to finish his, which isn’t hard considering how it’s half melted and less cold. White noise plays as you two sit back and relax. There’s a couple of bikers, dog walkers, and other couples that occupy the public space. But, for most of the time, it’s just the two of you in silence. 

It’s broken once you let out a loud breath and fall back onto the grass. You shift a bit, trying to make yourself comfortable, and tap the empty space behind him. “Come on, Joonie. It’s just me.” 

“Okay, okay,” he says. “Just give me a sec.” 

He leans back, feeling the prickly grass brush against his neck, and rests his hands behind his head. You frown from the distance, easily pulling his arm and resting your head on it, scooting closer to him. 

His breath gets caught in his throat from your proximity, but he doesn’t move away—almost in a near frozen state as you continue to lean on him. Right now, all he hopes is that you can’t hear how hard his heart is anxiously beating in his chest. 

Instead, he tries to focus on the clear evening sky. It would have been nice for the stars to be out, but this is just as fine (although, the view can be done without all the red helicopter lights that pass by). 

You let out a sigh, feeling a lot more sober compared to before. “Time is weird, huh?” 

“What’d you mean?” 

“It’s just—” You pause. “One moment, we’re just college students messing around and now we’re adults, doing things like jobs and going to the post office or something.” 

He chuckles. “The post office?” 

“Ugh.” You lightly hit him to get him to stop laughing. “You know what I mean.” 

“Yeah,” he says with a sigh of his own. “I get it. It’s just… we’re grown ups—” 

“Ew, please don’t say that.” 

He chuckles again. “Look at us though. Could you have even imagined telling your younger self that the most eventful thing you’ve done this week is go to a wedding?” 

“Weddings can be fun,” you try to defend. “There’s free food and good music.”

“Good music?” 

“Better music than all those cringey ass middle school mixers.” 

“You’re right about that,” he says. “I think I’ll die if I hear another remix of a top 40 hit song again.” 

“You know which remix I hated the most?” 

“Which one?” 

“Love You Like A Love Song club remix.” 

He lets out a hearty laugh from your answer. “I didn’t know that was a remix.” 

“It is and it’s absolutely terrible. They did Selena so dirty.” 

“Did they now?” 

“Absolutely, Joonie. It’s a fucking monstrosity.” 

You look dead serious, which is probably what makes him laugh even harder than before. His laugh dies down to a chuckle. There’s another moment of silence afterwards, the two of you focusing your attention on the calm atmosphere from the silence of the park and the calm waters that lightly splash from a safe distance. 

The silence is interrupted as your phone goes off. Namjoon watches as you simply take the phone that was placed next to you. The light of the phone shines against your features briefly before you turn it back off. 

You make eye contact with him and he has to turn away, clearing his throat from being caught. “What’s up?” he asks. 

“Nothing really,” you say. “I just got a reminder for another wedding I have to go to.” You wave your phone, despite the blank, black scene. “I have to RSVP later… at some point.” 

He hums, understanding the situation. Suddenly, you sit up as you shake him lightly, causing him to sit up as well. 

“What?” he asks with apprehension. 

There’s a glint in your eyes that Namjoon is unsure as to whether or not he likes. 

“Remember that favor you owe me?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You wanna come to my friend’s wedding with me?” 

He leans back with a hand on the grass, contemplating whether or not he should. Would this count as a date? Nevertheless, an unofficial third date? 

He does owe you a favor too… 

So, it makes sense for him to accompany you to return the favor. 

He finally looks to you, whose head is tilted towards him in curiosity with a smile that shines brighter than the sun and eyes that sparkle more than any star in the sky. 

“Come on, Joonie. It’ll be fun.” 

“Count me in,” he says. “Consider it a favor being repaid.” 

Your smile turns into a beam before you settle back onto the grass with your eyes closed. “Let’s stay here a little longer.” You sigh. “I’m going to keep you for a bit, before I have to share you again.” 

He lets out a sigh of his own, but you don’t hear it. 

He’s already yours for the taking.

April 18th, 2020 

Saturday, 9PM 

Tiffany’s Reception 

Rosey Pink Palace

—

“I’ve known Tiffany for over ten years,” Jessica says. “I’ve lived with her, worked with her, and that meant learning a lot about her, as a person and a professional. She’s someone who finds the balance between idealistic and realistic. She has been looking forward to finding her Prince Charming and now she gets to have her fairytale ending. I have never seen Tiffany as happy as I’ve seen her with Kaun Yin.” She pauses, looking at the two. “So, let’s raise a glass to congratulate the Pink Princess for finding her Prince Charming.” 

The other guests give a light round of applause for Jessica, who gives another wave and smile—before she takes back her seat at the main table. Conversation is sparked once again amongst the guests. 

At your table, Namjoon makes small talk with some of the others at the table (mainly those who he’d previously met at Junmyeon’s wedding). Despite the fact that this is your friend’s wedding, which is filled with literal strangers and acquaintances, he’s managed to mingle fairly well without your guidance. But that’s also the reason why he’s been dragged into a conversation with another table—i.e., the table behind him. 

“Tiffany and I went out for ice cream once and she basically shamed me for not getting sprinkles,” Evan says. “I’m betting her cake is going to be the most colorful thing in the venue.” 

“The pinks aren’t colorful enough for you?” Nichkhun asks with a teasing smile. 

Namjoon lets out a laugh. “It’s called the Pink Palace, what other color did you—could you have expected?” 

“I thought maybe Kuan Yin would convince her to other colors,” Evan says. He lets out a sigh, swirling his wine glass. “I blame my optimism.” 

“If you know anything about Tiffany,” Nichkhun says. “Then you would know that no one could convince her out of something once her mind is set.” 

“How long have you known her?” Namjoon asks. “I bet it’s been some time now.” 

The handsome man ponders for a bit. “Probably about half a decade now,” he says. “Another one of my friends knew her and… we’ve been friends ever since.” 

“That’s a long time,” Evan says. “I’ve only known her for a couple of years. She helped me out with some of my Youtube videos.” He sips on his glass. “She did a makeover for me once.” He turns to Namjoon. “How long have you known her?” 

“Oh, I’m just a….” He tries to think of the word. Technically, he’s a date, so he should say date…. right? Something inside stops him from saying so though. “I’m just a plus one.” 

“Oh?” Nichkhun says with a tilt of his head. “Of who?” 

At that moment, you take back your seat next to Namjoon. You easily settle back in, giving him a smile, before noticing the other two. “Sorry, there was a line at the bathroom. Did I interrupt something?” 

“Not really,” Evan says. He points to Namjoon. “Is he with you?” 

“Yeah,” you say with a smile. “He’s my date.” 

He nearly chokes on his water at your words, but your smile just grows when you look at him. Before he can respond, the conversations come to a bit of a pause as the newlywed wife gets up from her spot, stealing the crowd’s attention. 

Tiffany makes her way up the main stage with a bedazzled, pink microphone in one hand and her dress in the other; Kuan Yin follows behind her with a hand holding the rest of her train, making sure she doesn’t trip on her way up the stairs. 

“Hello?” She taps on the microphone to double check. “Everyone, thank you so much for coming. We’re so glad you were able to make it. Let’s give one more round of applause for the maid of honor!” 

There’s another round of applause for Jessica and, once it dies down, Kuan Yin speaks into the microphone that remains in Tiffany’s hands. “She’s done a lot for us this past month and we’d like to thank her again for her hard work.” 

“Right now, we’re preparing for the cake cutting!” she says with a giggle. “Our wonderful servers are getting the cake ready and it will soon be out!” 

More light applause breaks the silence once more and, in a second, the two servers emerge from the kitchen with a rolling cart. 

On top of the cart is a three-tiered cake, various shades of pink are dotted around and smeared to look like a sophisticated art palette. Edible, at least what Namjoon thinks, glitter is decorated along the side and sparkles in the light. White frosting is decorated on the edges and sprinkles top them off. 

Well, Evan was right about one thing; it is colorful. 

You lean over towards Namjoon. “I’m betting there’s glitter inside the cake too.” 

“I’m willing to get into that bet too,” Nichkhun says. 

Namjoon and Evan laugh. 

On the other hand, Tiffany and Kuan Yin are already cutting the cake and passing it to the servers, who are immediately placing it on trays to serve to the other guests. You let out a little cheer once yours arrives. Next to you, Bora takes pictures of the slice that sits on her plate, showing them to both you and Na Eun, who’s sitting at her other side. 

“I’m glad she got the red velvet,” Bora says. 

“Yeah, it fits the aesthetic,” Na Eun replies. “And it definitely screams Tiffany.” 

You pick at yours a bit, splitting the cake to see the rest of the batter. “I totally called it. I knew there was gonna be glitter inside!” 

Namjoon just shakes his head, before grabbing a hold of his fork and diving into his dessert. 

As the cake is cut and distributed, the conversation builds up again and the sugar has started to hit. Your plate is cleared, but Namjoon can’t get past all the sprinkles (which is why they’ve been abandoned on the side of his plate and you took that chance to poke some fun out of him). 

In the midst of all the chatter, the newlyweds return back to the stage, along with Jessica, after the cake-cutting—with Taeyeon behind them, who has begun to set up the stage. 

“I would just like to thank all the guests, once more, who are here to support Tiffany and Kuan Yin,” Jessica says. “Right now, we have Taeyeon, another bridesmaid, who will be singing the song to their first dance!” 

Another round of light applause is given as Taeyeon gives a smile and wave. Meanwhile, Tiffany and Kuan Yin have arrived in the middle of the dance floor, looking at one another with so much love. Namjoon couldn’t help but be a bit envious. 

“Congratulations once more to the happy couple,” Taeyeon says. “This song is for you—I hope your happiness will carry on for the rest of your lives.” 

The guitarist starts to strum to a soft melody and Taeyon’s soothing voice starts to move throughout the venue. Other guests start to make their way to the dance floor as well, joining the slow dance. Namjoon moves his head along to the calm tune, swaying to it with his eyes closed. 

He hears your chair move and he peaks an eye open, only to see you standing with a hand out to him. 

“Would you like to join me for a dance?” 

“I thought we agreed I should never be dancing,” he jokes. 

You pout, putting your hand down. “We’ve been to so many weddings and haven’t danced once.” You put your hand out once more, wiggling your fingers underneath his chin. “Is little Joonie afraid?” 

“We both know I’m not the best dancer.” 

Your pout deepens and you take your hand away again. He has to stop himself from leaning back to your touch. 

“That’s your insecurity talking,” you say. “Besides you don’t know until you try.”

He lets out a sigh, hiding a smile, and wordlessly puts out his hand for you. “Okay, (Y/N). I trust you. Please lead the way.” 

Your pout turns back to a smile, easily grabbing his hand and leading him towards the bright tiles where the other guests are dancing. 

Taking the initiative, as per usual, you put his hands on your waist and lightly place your hands on his shoulders. He hopes you don’t notice how shaky his hands are, or how much more sweaty his palms have gotten. His heart pounds even harder in his chest from the close proximity.

He let out an exhale, trying to keep it under his breath to avoid hitting your face with his glittery cake breath. Despite being friends for the longest time, Namjoon can’t remember a time he’d been this close to you. There had been a couple of times when you would drunkenly cling to him or the time you asked for a piggyback ride… But he’s never seen you like this upclose. 

Under the sparkling lights, he can make out your features. Your eyes shine with excitement and anticipation, but he can’t tell from what. The way the slope of your nose dips is pretty, he notes—he’s never noticed. Your lips… they practically mock him. 

He can feel his throat feeling dry again. Where are the champagne flutes when he needs them? 

Even as he tries to avoid eye contact, your eyes don’t leave his face. A teasing smile appears when you take notice of his darkening cheeks. 

“What’s wrong?” you jib. “You’re doing good. Are you focusing all of your brain cells into your dancing?” 

He rolls his eyes at you, but it’s without malice. “Haha,” he says. “You know I didn’t have that many to begin with.” 

“You have 148 IQ.” 

“Let it go, (Y/N).” He sighs. “Let it go.” 

This time you roll your eyes at him, giving him a light shove. “You’re literally so smart. You need to embrace that more.” 

“Don’t get too cocky on my behalf,” he says. “I think I got burnt out by the time we graduated.” 

“Everyone gets burnt out,” you say. “Whether it’s emotionally, physically… Life has a way of doing that to you.” You lean a bit closer, settling your hands on the back of his neck. “What you choose to afterwards is how you decide its impact on you.” 

He straightens up a bit, but doesn’t necessarily move away from you, putting himself in a more comfortable position. “You don’t ever seem burnt out,” he says. “I wish I had that endless energy. I might actually be able to do something productive with my life.” 

“Hey,” you say. “You’re doing it again.” 

“Doing what?” 

“Downplaying your abilities.” You let out a sigh. “You did it, not even, two minutes ago. You haven’t even stepped on my foot; you’re going just fine.” 

He feels the heat on the back of his neck, hoping you don’t say anything about it. “Not yet, at least. Have you forgotten that tango class I accidentally registered for?” 

You grin from the memory. “Considering that we were able to grow closer from it and it was required, not accidental… I have not.” You tilt your head at him. “But did you forget?” 

“Forget what?” 

“How much you improved by the time the semester ended.” 

“I don’t know, (Y/N),” he says. “I didn’t get worse and that was all I was aiming for.” 

“Sure, you weren’t perfect, but you were pretty good by the end of it. Admit that, at least.” 

“Fine, I was pretty good at it.” He looks directly at you. “Satisfied?” 

“Not really, but I’ll take it.” 

The two of you sway for a bit, listening to the music and enjoying each other’s company. At some point, you lean against him with closed eyes. He smiles to himself, subconsciously pulling you closer and breathing in the faint scent of your shampoo. Letting out another sigh, he can’t help but think of himself that he could get used to you in his arms. 

April 28th, 2020

Tuesday, 4PM 

The Roasted Bean

—

“Do you want to come to China with me?” 

You choke on your tea. “Shit,” you manage to cough out with. 

Namjoon scrambles to pass you the napkins and can only look at you with concern as you continue to cough. He waits for you patiently, expecting this kind of response from you.

When you had agreed to meet up with him for coffee, Namjoon said to himself he was going to plan what he would say to you… cut to the day of and he had planned nothing except, well, that. 

Damn, procrastination really doesn’t stop. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. You dab the corners of your mouth, trying to wipe off the remains of the tea that spilled from your lips. Your hands settle on the table as you look at him incredulously. “Did I hear that correctly?” 

“In hindsight, maybe I should have provided some context.” 

“A little would have been nice,” you say with a slight shrug. 

He lets out a sigh, shifting in his seat. “I’m going to Jackson’s wedding,” he says. “... which is located in Hong Kong. I made the reservation awhile back, so I took a couple of vacation days to go to it and join them in the festivities. I even got Jungkook to dogsit RapMon, but, then again, that could easily go downhill. But, I thought, you know, since we’re, like, wedding buddies, you might want to go with me?” 

“Wedding buddies?” you ask with a raise of your eyebrow. “I guess that’s one way of putting it.” You take another sip of your tea. 

“It’ll be fun?” he says with an awkward smile. “Besides, you know Jackson.”

“I’ve met him a couple of times, yeah.” You take another sip from your cup. “I obviously wasn’t close enough to get an invite, but I know him.” You try to think, as if you were pondering the pros and cons. “I do know some people who were going to be in the wedding too.” 

“You do?” He shouldn’t be surprised, but couldn’t help the curiosity. 

“Yeah, there’s Mark. There’s also Jinyoung and Youngji.” 

“Even if you didn’t know anyone,” he says. “It’s not like you won’t make new friends.” 

You give him a shy, but proud smile in return. “I do adapt well.” Your eyebrows round from a realization. “Wait.” You give him a confused look. “You were originally planning on going to China…. by yourself?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks with a slight pout. “Is it a bad idea?” 

“No,” you say. “Rather the opposite.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“How do I say it?” you mutter, more to yourself than aloud. “I guess—it might just be because I know what you’re like.” 

“... Elaborate.” 

“It’s not supposed to be a bad thing. It’s just that—I say this with affection, okay?” You clear your throat a little and lean back into your seat. “You don’t really leave your comfort zone, which isn’t a bad thing—it’s just a bit surprising that you are willing to leave the comforts of your home.” He doesn’t get the chance to respond; you continue to talk. “But, another thing I know is you’re fierce loyal, so it’s not necessarily that surprising. Even then, it’s a good surprise because this might be good for you.” 

There’s a brief pause as he thinks to himself, absentmindedly swirling the remains of his coffee from his glass. You’re right (with both of your points). It’s not that he’s offended, or mad. It’s just that… you’re right. That’s it. 

He knows he’s more of an introvert, which isn’t a bad thing—he just takes a bit longer to adjust to new surroundings and unfamiliar people. He’s very self-aware of it rather than self-conscious about it. To be honest, he really didn’t think things through all the way; he couldn’t say no to Jackson, especially considering how close they are with one another. The thought of brushing up on his Chinese also crossed his mind momentarily, but this trip is really more about supporting Jackson and Hua Yi. 

“Namjoon?” 

He freezes, snapping out of his thoughts. “Sorry, I just, like, spaced out.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, just lost in thought.” He clears his throat. “What were you saying?” 

“Nothing of that much importance, but—” You pause. “I just think this would be good for you, you know? You’d get some time off from work, get together with your friends, explore a new place, etc.” 

“It’s just a week or so,” he says. “It’s not much, but… it’s something.” 

“Yeah, but you never know.” 

He hums, agreeing with you, as he taps his fingers lightly against the table. The tapping stops. “Wait, you never answered my question.” 

“Wait, what was the question?”

  He chuckles. “Did you want to accompany me to Jackson’s wedding in China?” 

“Well,” you drag out, fiddling with your napkin. “I would need to see all the details, figure out a couple of things, but, overall…” You practically beam at him. “I’d love to.”

May 13th, 2020 

Wednesday, 9AM 

East Asian Airlines

Incheon International Airport

—

You nearly elbow him as you try to settle into your seat. Your neck pillow barely hangs on your shoulders, as you reach over to adjust the incline and decline with one hand and manage your downloaded playlist on your phone with the other. 

“Whoa,” Namjoon says, trying to escape from your flailing arms. “You know this isn’t an overnight flight, right?” 

You let out an exasperated exhale that’s far more dramatic than it needed to be. “Joonie, comfort is always a priority.” 

“I didn’t say anything was wrong with comfort,” he started to say. “I’m just saying it’s a bit much for a four hour flight that you’re 100% going to fall asleep on.” 

Your jaw drops. “The audacity.” 

“Am I wrong?” 

Your jaw promptly closes at his words, your lips twisting to the side. “No,” you mutter.

He lets out a laugh, patting your head as some type of reconciliation—messing it up a bit. “Sorry, I only speak the truth.” 

You grumble in your seat once more, playfully glaring at him with a petty look in your eyes. Without breaking eye contact, you lightly slap his hand away and start to fix the mess he created on your head. “Says the man who told Taehyung he looked handsome after his home haircut, but okay. Pop off.” 

His eyes narrow at your sarcasm, but he doesn’t say another word. 

While you fiddle with the light and air conditioning functions above, he plucks out an airline magazine from the seat in front of him—in an attempt to ignore the numbness of his long legs due to the small, cramped area he’s been provided. 

Curse this capitalistic society and the stupid economy seats. 

He flips open a page, glancing through. Most of the pages are promotions for products that no one really needs. There’s also an absurd amount of pillows that they were insisting to be sold. Who needs a pillow that can work as a lap-desk? Or a bendable neck pillow that can be twisted into a hugging pillow? There’s also a pillow that can be folded into a miniature pillow. These are all awful, he thinks. 

As he inwardly questions and critiques each product, he fails to notice that you’ve finished settling in, tugging on his jacket to get his attention. 

“What’s up?” he asks without looking up. “Finally settled?” 

“Say all you want, Joonie, but when I’m napping like a champ, you’ll be restless in your spot like a chump.” 

He stifles his laughter, raising his eyebrows from your words, flipping through the pages without actually looking through them. “Okay, (Y/N). Whatever you say.” In his peripheral vision, he can see you pouting from his lack of reaction. 

You lean back in your seat, taking another deep breath. “You know, I think this is the first time we’re traveling together, isn’t it?” 

“I think it is.” He looks at you. “This is our first trip together.” 

“Well, first overseas trip.” 

“First overseas trip,” he says with a hum. “You think there’ll be more?” 

You smirk. “Only if this one is a success. But, for now, we’re just wedding buddies.” 

“Wedding buddies?” He lays a hand on his heart in mock hurt. “We’ve known each other for years and this is what our relationship has come to?” 

“You defined it first,” you say with a poke of his chest. “If anyone is to blame, it’s you.” 

His lips are pulled back—half frustrated at himself and half disappointed. Before he can retort, the bell has been rung and the attendant’s voice comes on over the intercom. 

“All passengers, please take your seats as we are taking off at 9AM sharp.” 

Another bell rings and the seatbelt image flashes on. The attendants go around, checking the seatbelts and others begin to start the safety procedures. Namjoon tries to remember it all, but eventually finds himself accidentally tuning out the information. Sensing his panic, you remind him that it’s also in the same pocket he’d been grabbing magazines out of. 

After a little while, the plane starts to ascend. Both you and Namjoon wordlessly look out the window, taking in the view as the buildings get smaller and smaller. Once the captain had announced that passengers are now allowed to roam about the cabin (with reason, of course), you lean back in your seat and plop in your other headphone. 

“Wake me up when we’re descending?” you ask. 

He nods, letting you play your music and close your eyes. About twenty minutes pass and you’re already asleep, But, your neck pillow is still barely hanging on your shoulders. He manages to adjust it comfortably for you, without waking you up—he’d call that a victory for his clumsy ass. 

To pass some time, he goes through some more magazines, eventually getting bored of them. He should’ve downloaded a playlist or something; granted, you did nag him a bit to do so at the terminal gate because you didn’t want him being bored on the plane. 

As usual, you were right. 

He looks over at you once more, before deciding that he should nap too. 

If he’s being honest, he was too nervous last night to get any sleep at the thought of spending, nearly, an entire week with you… in an unfamiliar country. He really didn’t think these things through. On one hand, it’s normal to invite long-time friends on trips and go to events together, platonically. On the other hand, he technically had feelings for you. But, he also thought those feelings had died down… until he actually started to talk to you again. 

Deep down, he knows the feelings never really died but that’s a conversation he’s not ready to engage in. But, he’s also aware that he’s stupid and lacked the brain cells to even think of the possible cons that would come when he invited you to an overseas wedding...

Sleep, Namjoon thinks. Sleep is great for avoiding problems like these. 

He lets out a long sigh, settling into his seat with a close of his eyes. 

Yes, sleep is the best solution. 

...

Ding. “Passengers, you will need to return to your seats soon as we are close to our destination.” Ding. 

As Namjoon starts to regain consciousness, the light from his window that shines on his face stirs him awake. He lets out a sigh, lifting his head from yours as he rubs his eyes. You remain asleep on his shoulder with your headphones still intact, but your neck pillow sits uselessly in your lap. 

He’s suddenly awake and aware of your current position. He unconsciously clears his throat, instantly feeling thirsty, causing you to shift a bit closer to him. 

The intercom comes on once more. “Once again, passengers, if you could please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts, we’re going to begin to descend soon.” 

From the announcement, he lightly shakes you. “(Y/N),” he whispers. 

When it doesn’t work, he shakes you a bit harder. “(Y/N).” 

You let out a groan from being awoken. “Ten more minutes.” 

He shakes you again with a bit of a laugh. “You don’t have ten minutes.” 

“Give me ten minutes then.” 

“No, wake up.” 

“No.” 

“(Y/N),” he whines. “Wake up.” 

You let out another groan, reluctantly opening your eyes—immediately shutting them from the bright lights of the afternoon sky. “Are we there yet?” 

“Nearly,” he says. “Why did you think I woke you up?” 

“To torture me?” 

“I wouldn’t do that to my precious wedding buddy.”

“Damn,” you say. “Your sass levels are up.” 

He laughs in response. 

Your conversation is interrupted as the bell rings once again, the attendant’s voice filling the air. 

“All passengers, we are descending to our destination.” 

You let a small squeal of excitement from the official announcement, leaning out towards the window to take in the new sights. He can’t help but smile at your childlike wonder, moving himself out of the way for you to take in the scenery as the clouds start to part. 

“We apologize that there will be a bit of turbulence, so if you may all please fasten your seatbelts for your safety. Once again, we are starting our descent—passengers, we welcome you to Hong Kong. Thank you for choosing to fly with East Asian Airlines. We hope you’ve had a wonderful trip.” 

A/N: Thank you for reading the first part of Plus Two! Please do not ask about updates—you can check the upcoming page to check on the status of the second half! 

[rkivepacks]

TITLE: surprise in two Pairing: Jung Hoseok - Member x Reader Rating: R18+ Genre: fluff, smut, little crack Word Count: 3,372 Trigger Warning/s: swearing, smut Cross-posted on: AO3/dtgloss

Disclaimer:  Should there be similarities with the works of other respected artists are purely unintentional. This also do not reflect on the real lives of the artists portrayed in this work. Comments, suggestions and any other concerns are accepted in my inbox. Thank you!  ©  AO3/dtgloss / tumblr/rkivepacks

NOTES: ∟ This is a prompt submitted by @himbeaux-joon​ to @ficswithluv ‘s changeswithluv that allows lovely people to send in commissions for donations to BLM charities and organizations. P.S. I hope i did the prompt justice ∟beta-ed by the lovely @meowxyoong who helped me the whole time!!!

∟ banner by @rkivepacks​ ∟ request banner here ∟ request prompt/fic here

Prompt:   Strangers!AU: You hooked up with a hot guy named Hobi at your best friend's birthday last night. The next morning you realize he's also her little brother Hoseok.

You love all things organizing, decision-making; the works.

But you don’t love stress.

What your best friend’s boyfriend is giving you now reads along the lines of stress.

[New Message] I’m sorry my advisor wanted to reschedule our meeting to today. Forgive me!!!! I PROMISE I HAVE SOMEONE ELSE DO IT DON'T WORRY

You reread the message again before typing back a I will cut your balls off

He replies a I AM REALLY SORRY , followed by a series of hand emojis that you surely know is supposed to be depicting two hands clapping and not to be mistaken as a begging emoji but you let it go.

There are more important things that need your attention.

Like the cake that will apparently just appear later at the surprise party from someone you don’t know and forgot to ask among other things, like organizing the whole party for your best friend.

In their defense, Jiwoo’s boyfriend volunteered to get the cake at least, saying he does not have a bone in his body that is inclined in organizing and left that part of the party to you.

Everything is out of the window now that he had a meeting and would not be able to get the cake in one piece himself on time to the party.

Plans changed and so has your level of patience.

╫

The plan should go like this; let Jiwoo be distracted on her own knowing, that putting someone else for that task will only make it obvious that something is up, meet on the apartment and put up the decorations with Hana as fast as you can before Jiwoo gets back for your ‘planned small get together for the three of you’.

You are currently working on the two-toned tassel garlands that're too slippery to come together when Hana pads into the living room. “The cake is here, Hope said he’ll be back with the pizza.” You hum in acknowledgement, although you do not know who Hope is.

Twenty minutes later with everything set up, you try to have a sip of water when your phone pings.

[New Message] You’re at the apartment? Can you take out the chicken pops from the fridge so I can cook it when I get there hehe

You reply a quick yes and think to yourself sorry, no chicken lollipops today

After a few minutes of checking and finalizing the place, the lock from the main door beeps, signaling that it’s unlocked. Like clockwork you and Hana stare at each other, eyes wide, before she runs to where the light switch would be and quickly turns it off, engulfing the room in an almost pitch dark black just before the door fully opens.

╫

If success is measured by the surprise on Jiwoo’s face, you’d say you did, a hundred percent. Greetings and loves are passed around, pictures are taken and the party is now in full swing.

The preparations tired you out and you end up sitting down by the window that overlooks the back garden, a cup of soda in your hand. Jiwoo and her boyfriend are within your range for now and every time he catches your eye he sends you a sheepish smile and apologies come off of him in airwaves.

You decided to sneak off to the kitchen with a slice of the cake and another glass of soda and get back to your spot on the window as fast as possible.

“Is it good?” You hear a voice not too far from you.

You look at the stranger and assess him, quickly realizing you have not seen the man before as you don't recognize him.

To his credit, he looks handsome in a simple oversized black shirt and jeans, his head covered in a black bucket hat that adorably covers his head perfectly, little hairs peeking out from under it.

“Sorry?” You answer back, unsure.

“Is the cake good?” He repeats.

“Oh yes. Would you like some?” You try to be nice and offer your piece, tilting the plate towards him as he rests on the wall in front of you.

“Thank you, maybe later.” He smiles. “I’m Hoseok.” He introduces himself and you do the same, shaking his hands.

“So are you not in the mood for people? Or…” He trails off and you don’t expect him to stay longer. Not that you mind the company but you had the impression that he was only going to stay to make a small talk to avoid coming off as rude.

“The party just drained me out. And I wanted to have cake in peace.” You explained, tilting your head back as you remember the hecticity of the day.

“Oh you came with Hana, then?” Hoseok asks.

“Yep!” You reply and down the rest of your soda.

“How about we get another piece of cake and soda, and hide somewhere nicer?” He asks, shifting off of his feet.

“Sure.” You smile at him and he leads you back to the kitchen. As Hoseok is slicing the cake for the two of you, Hana comes in skipping into the kitchen. Clearly the alcohol has hit her, considering her face has become red and her hair is almost at rest with what probably is the heat and sweat coming off of her body. Hana comes and wraps two arms around you, swaying you both from right to left before doing the same to Hoseok.

You don't know how the two knew each other and just laugh at Hana’s antics.

“Go away, Hana, you’re drunk.” You shout over the loud music hoping it reaches Hana’s ears but to no avail, the black haired girl just continues her skipping out of the kitchen the same way she entered the room.

╫

Cake and Soda acquired, Hoseok leads you to the guest bedroom that is surprisingly empty. The two of you sit on the floor by the bed, sharing the cake between you. You have been sharing small talk and stories to entertain yourselves.

“I just realized something.” You stop after you hurriedly swallow down the cake, fork midway in the air as you speak. “You’re Hope.” You point the fork towards Hoseok, your tone almost accusatory.

“I am Hope.” Hoseok nods as if the fact is obvious. It’s not for you, apparently.

“Yes you are.” You continue to prod, eyes wide. You realize it as you eat the cake, remembering how Hana has mentioned a certain ‘Hope’ who apparently is about to get the cake instead. You also remember how Hoseok said thank you when you said the cake was delicious.

Hoseok was Hope.

Hoseok was giggling at your serious internal monologue while your brain surely creates an unwarranted mind map between the two names and one person.

“Are you drunk?” Hoseok jokes and you take another bite of the cake and scowl at him. “Speaking of drinks, would you like another glass, I’ll get myself one.” He stands and looks down to where you stay seated, you shake your head and wave your hand to signal him a ‘no, thank you’ before he replies, “Please wait here, I’ll be right back”, and goes his way to the door.

Hoseok stops midway before turning around to go back to you. “Just in case you need to leave and couldn’t wait until I get back,” he pecks you on the lips fast before sprinting towards the door, hoping that being fast would somehow make you stay inside the room.

After a short while, the door opens again and peeks into the room, his face contorted into what shows curiosity before relief washes over him as he sees you still seated on where he last saw you.

“I’m still here.” You wave to him, eyes following his form as he takes his seat again, drink in his hand.

“So, that kiss was like uhm, a deposit.” He clears his throat, eyes searching yours. “I’d like to claim it back, if you wish.” He grins sheepishly and you tip your head back laughing. You shift to your knees, supporting yourself on one hand with the other cupping his face, as you do exactly what he did just moments ago.

When you pull away, he tilts his head back and groans, taking off his jacket.

“What?” You ask, giggling.

“I think it got hotter in here, I don’t know.” He fans himself before he sighs and retreats with his back on the floor, completely laying down making you laugh.

“I think you’re fine, Hoseok.” You laugh, moving to sit near him on the floor before copying his position on the floor and shifting to your side, body turned to him.

“The floor is stiff on my back.” You whisper, shifting on your place as you try to find a comfortable position.

“I like your thinking.” He appraises before he stands up with ease and turns back to you. He stretches out two hands and pulls you up as you reach up to him.

You notice he used more force, not too hard but enough to have your chest press to his once you’re completely up on your feet. As you reach him, he keeps you in place with a hand on your hips, pressing his lips to yours softly, as if not to surprise you.

He pulls away, not leaving too much space between you but enough to allow you to pull back completely if you wish. When he sees no refusal from you, he tilts his head to the side and slots your slips together, this time more firm. You place your hands around his shoulders, your left hand tracing the hair at the back of his head.

You pull away to drag him into bed, your back turned to him but he takes the opportunity to take steps closer into you, crowding into your space. With his chest pressed to your back, he nuzzles into your neck, his hands softly caressing your arms.

You giggle as you lean back to him, “I tickles.” you tell him as you sit on the bed, pulling him towards you and he mutters a little ‘sorry’ although the smile on his face tells otherwise.

“No you’re not.” You huff, he continues to crowd into your face until your back is on the bed and he’s hovering over you.

“Hm. I like this.” He lightly tugs your off-shoulder yellow top, peering down at you. “It’s my favorite color.”

“Is it? Lucky for you I match everything.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him.

He groans and he continues mouthing at your collarbones exposed to him, your body moving with your laughs.

“Let me know when to stop.” He whispers to your ear and you felt ticklish with his breath hitting your skin.

“Eyes up.” You tilt his chin and catch his eyes, slowly he untugs the strings that keep your skirt secured and pulls it down altogether, you assist him without much movement from the two of you.

You pull him closer and kiss him again, tugging his jeans and he pulls away to get it off before returning to his previous position. His eyes never leave yours through the whole accord.

With your senses heightened, you are both hyper aware of your actions and each touch the both of you leave on each other’s has only left you both feeling the hair on your skin rise.

“Still not looking.” He whispers to your lips before slotting them back together, his right hand tracing your hip bones, fingers ghosting over where the line of your underwear rests.

It’s obvious he is trying to get consent even after he’s told you to let him know when to stop. It’s in his looks as he catches your eyes for a few seconds before continuing with what he is about to do next.

He pulls away and grabs something a few steps from the bed. “I’ve felt that I would need this today.” He smiles, in his hands a packet of condoms and lube, before slotting in between your legs only this time, his face is not as close to yours as before.

He softly traces your stomach with gentle fingers, following his own traces with his lips. He continues his movements until he’s mouthing at the waistbands of your underwear, his left hand fumbling with it.

He pulls it off, his fingers trailing after as it runs down your legs. He continues with his ministrations with his hands on your thighs, his presence felt everywhere on your skin. When he gets back up to level his face with yours, he presses his hips to yours and you rest both hands on his hips, tugging on his boxers.

Off it goes and he wraps both of your legs around his waist, at least one hand never leaving your thighs, his lips never leaving yours.

“Ready?” He scans your face for any discomfort and your heart swoons.

A handsome and respectful man? Your heart swelled. .

His hands move with confidence but prove to be gentle as he holds your hips and lines himself up with you.

“Fuck.” He mutters as he slowly eases in, mouth pressed to yours.

You try to not crush him in between your legs as you feel yourself become putty each time he moves, but it proves to be difficult when he moves with practiced ease. He knows how to activate your senses and which actions and movements he could do, sometimes in between intervals and at times a meddling of the two.

You feel yourself sag down onto the bed, his hips continuing his movements, providing you with much pleasure.

Reaching the climax, your legs clamp up on his hips from where it rested on his hide and your arms smoothing down the expanse of his back, unable to apply much pressure as the relief washes over you.

He follows suit, pulling your hips closer to his and stays pressed to each other for a second, before he lets you down gently.

You stay still and connected for a little while, basking in the aftermath of your pleasures. When Hoseok regains his strength and senses, he helps you rest down your thighs to where you would be more comfortable, gentle hands guiding you.

Swoon.

He presses soft kisses to your forehead as you cool down, and quickly finds the thin blanket to cover your body, his eyes never leaving your face.

Soon you feel yourself slowly regain your strength as well. You sit up, holding the blanket to your chest and pick off the underwear from where it was thrown to the edge of the bed. Hoseok gives you privacy as he sits on the other side of the bed, already dressed in everything except for his shoes and his black shirt, back turned to you.

You quickly dress and smooth your hair down from where it was messily tied up.

Your phone buzzes from where you left it on the floor with a text from Hana telling you that she left the place already.

“I think I’m gonna head out.” You say as you stand in front of him.

“Let me get you a ride.” He stands up and you move to the side as he quickly dresses into his shirt and slips into his shoes, leading you back down to where some people, although a little less compared to what they left off a while ago, are still up and drinking.

“I’d drive you, but…” He trails, pertaining to the alcohol he has in his system.

“It’s ok. I can handle myself.” You look up to him and he laughs.

“I know you can. Let me know when you get home.” He says. He gives you a quick peck just before you jog over to where the car was waiting for you.

╫

To: Hoseok I got home safe, thank you!

From: Hoseok That’s good. Would you be free for a late breakfast tomorrow?

To: Hoseok If I wake up before that, yes

From: Nice. Good night :)

To: Hoseok Night, Hope!!!

╫

You do wake up before lunch time. Actually, you wake up way earlier than you should have considering you got home at two in the morning and went to bed at least thirty minutes after.

You contemplate what time to send a text to Hoseok about your meet up when your phone vibrates with a message from another person.

From: Jiwoo You left your subway card here!!! Come get it and I’ll make you breakfast <3

You read the message and sigh. Maybe the late breakfast will be postponed. You text Hoseok informing him that your best friend needs you this morning and ask for a rain check. Thankfully, the nice man takes it well and lets you off easily.

An hour and a half later, you arrive at Jiwoo’s, “Come with me to my room and help me.” She pulls you to the direction of her bedroom. When you get there she hands you the card you apparently left behind.

When you are done helping Jiwoo with an inexistent problem, you come out of the bedroom first while she follows suit, ranting about the mess the party made last night. You hear the door to the guest bedroom open and you stop on your tracks when you look up to the person in front of you, Jiwoo almost knocking on your back on your abrupt stop.

It’s the handsome and respectful guy from last night. Your late breakfast buddy.

Hoseok reacts better than you, face alight with recognition, “Hey!” He greets you and his eyes switch back and forth between you and Jiwoo.

“Oh? You know each other?” Jiwoo takes over and walks in front of you. You follow on autopilot and Hoseok trails behind you.

“Yep.” Hoseok answers.

Yes, if a one night stand counts as ‘knowing each other’.

“Yep. He brought the cake over.” You reply, sitting down on the dinner table.

“Ah, I’ve heard of that from Sowon. He said he was supposed to bring the cake but he had a surprise meeting and he texted my brother instead. Right, Hoseokie?” Jiwoo explains, biting off an apple slice.

Brother? Stress on the question mark.

Jiwoo and Hoseok are related.

Jiwoo and Hoseok are actual siblings.

Jiwoo and Hoseok actually do look like each other if only my brain functioned enough last night.

Your eyes move from Jiwoo to Hoseok, the latter at ease from his seat as if the situation does not bother him as it did to you. It probably doesn’t.

“I think I left my phone in your room.” You say and retreat back upstairs. If they see your phone peeking out from your back pocket, they don’t say anything.

╫

To: Hoseok I DID NOT KNOW ??????

From: Hoseok Sorry?? Do you guys like have some sort of rule or something…

To: Hoseok It does not exist just like my dignity.

From: Hoseok Come back here already Jiwoo’s chill dw

To: Hoseok …

╫

The breakfast went as smoothly as it could. You laughed over and over, enjoying Hoseok's company. Although, it was mostly Hoseok laughing at your despair as you recount the morning you found out Jiwoo and the embodiment of the man of your current dreams are blood-related.

The late breakfast was only a one time thing, with you having research during normal hours and Hoseok balancing a masters and a dance class with his time. You meet on nights your free time would be fitting with his, and on the weekends you get to do more and spend more time, most of it spent with Jiwoo at her apartment. That's when you realize Jiwoo would actually be chill with the whole thing.

Well- Jiwoo was chill with it until she found out that you actually did sleep over at her apartment, seeing you sleeping peacefully with Hoseok cuddled behind you, arms wrapped around your waist.

[recurring-polynya]

a little in love now and then, part 4/? | ao3 | ff.net |

Summary: Abarai  Renji doesn’t have a fortune, but he does appear to be in want of a  wife, at least in Lady Kuchiki’s opinion. Fortunately, Lady Kuchiki also  has a sister, and a woefully eligible one, at that. (itty bitty Hisana  Lived! AU)

Rating: T, for minor cussing

This time: A Turn About the Gardens, p1: Rukia considers her options and also Renji’s shoulders.

Older parts: | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 |

Rukia couldn’t believe her sister thought Abarai Renji was handsome.

The young men in Hisana’s social circle got their hairs cut individually, and carried parasols to maintain their pasty complexions, and would go home if they showed up to a party where someone else’s outfit looked too much like their own.

Abarai Renji’s nose had already been broken at least twice by the time he entered the Academy, and it had taken on an additional swerve to the left in the intervening years. He’d tried his best to tuck his unruly hair into a low ponytail, but the humidity was causing little strands of it to fuzz out and escape his headscarf to stick to his forehead. His skin was the dark tan of someone who spent everyday outside, weather-be-damned. Two of his fingers had that tell-tale look of having been reattached by some Fourth Squadder too close to the end of their shift. He had the build of an ox, if an ox liked to hit the gym in its spare time.

Obviously, Rukia thought he was maddeningly handsome, but she was well aware of how terrible her own taste was. He didn’t seem Sister’s type at all, though.

Right now, he was gazing around the garden as they strolled, hands clasped behind his back.

The most handsome thing about him, she thought to herself, without acknowledging what she was thinking, was the way he carried himself. The first time she had seen him and her brother together, it was clear they hadn’t quite figured out each other yet. But somewhere along the way, possibly on Sokyouku Hill, they had figured things out. Renji was respectful to Byakuya, sure, but he wore his rank comfortably, probably more comfortably than what was obviously his New Year’s haori, which looked like it could stand to be let out a little in the shoulder seams.

Rukia sucked her teeth, desperately trying to think of something to say to him. She should just make fun of him, really, get things back on the old familiar ground. Every joke that spring to mind just seemed too sharp, though, too mean.For possibly the first time in their acquaintance, Rukia worried about sticking him too deeply.

"So, er…" Renji decided to break the silence on his own. "Which ones are the orchids?"

Rukia abruptly forgot her fears. “You dummy. You moron.”

He just grinned at her, his shoulders twitching with silent laughter.

“Orchids are delicate flowers, and valuable, too. They are in the greenhouses, where no stray breeze or raindrop could ever cause them distress.”

“Ah. I see,” he replied, and she wondered if he did. “I’m a little new to this fancy stuff, you see.”

What was he playing at, anyway? “Look, you know why my sister invited you over, right?”

To her surprise, he honestly looked a little perplexed. “Seemed like she wanted me to meet you.” He paused for a long moment, as though he were weighing whether or not he wanted to say what he was thinking. Rukia wasn’t sure she liked that, a thoughtful Renji. She preferred a Renji whose brain was connected directly to his mouth. “It’s just that most people in this situation, I think, might be surprised to find out that you never mentioned to your sister that you knew me.” By “surprised” he meant “hurt”, of course, although she wasn’t quite sure if he was trying to tell her that he was hurt or reassuring her that he wasn’t. In the old days, it had always seemed very easy to tell him things without actually having to tell him anything, but now, she was having a lot of trouble getting a read on him. A guilty little voice in her head kept asking whether this had ever been an effective form of communication. He turned to look at her, a sly twinkle in his eye. “Then again, I think I had known you for about... seven years before you told me that Rukia wasn’t your real name, so I don’t really know what I was expecting.”

“It was awkward,” Rukia finally excused, defensively. “If I’d been around when Brother hired you, of course, I would have told her. I was kinda busy, if you may recall, and now, it’s so far past when I should have said something…”

“Well, it puts me in a bit of an awkward spot, too, you know,” Renji pointed out, mildly. He didn’t sound nearly as angry as he had a right to. “We used to coordinate these things. Are you plannin’ to tell her or you want to keep pretending to be strangers? That could be kinda fun, y’know, every time I see you, pretending we’ve never met before.”

“Oh, stop it,” Rukia scolded. “I’ll… figure out a way to tell her.” The problem was, of course, that she needed to get Hisana to lay off this matchmaking nonsense, and if Hisana found out they had been childhood friends, she would become an unstoppable force of nature, a huge, flaming Sokyouku firebird with hearts for eyes.

“So...why did your sister invite me over?” Renji asked curiously.

Rukia pretended to be interested in a patch of bearded iris. “A big part of being noble is socializing,” she explained. “It’s very exciting to invite a new person over, instead of the same old bores you’ve known for the last two hundred years. She’ll then go tell her friends about how delightful you were, and your inbox will be full of invitations to take tea with a bunch of other bored noble ladies. I don’t suppose you’re any good at mahjong? Good mahjong players are in such demand these days.”

“I am terrible at mahjong, as it happens.”

“Even better, probably.”

Renji regarded a plum tree. "Do you think we should slow down, then?"

“Sl--slow down?” Rukia spluttered.

Renji gave a too-obvious nod over his shoulder, where Hisana, Byakuya, and Touma were dawdling on the garden path behind them. “Your sister and brother-in-law are very good at walking slowly,” he observed dryly.

Rukia clenched her teeth at her sister’s horrifically obvious attempt to afford them privacy.

“But if the point is socializing--”

“No,” Rukia cut him off. “Sister would just find a way to walk even more slowly.”

“Wow,” Renji commented. “That would probably require some obscure branch of reverse-shunpou. Touma doesn’t look like he’s enjoying it very much.”

“I think he wants to be with me. Usually, I walk with him, so Brother and Sister can have a few minutes together,” Rukia explained, eager to divert the subject. “And he spends the entire time fussing because he wants to be with Brother.”

Renji gave her that inscrutable look again, and Rukia realized he was trying to figure her out. “If you like,” he finally said, “he could walk with us. I don’t mind.”

Rukia swallowed, then turned her head, and called back, “Sister, if Touma wants to walk with us, just let him!”

A relieved Hisana stopped trying to restrain her offspring, who barreled forward as fast as his chubby legs would propel him. Surprisingly, Rukia didn’t seem to be the person Touma was so desperate to see.

“Hello, there, Future Vice-Captain,” Renji greeted her diminutive nephew genially. “We meet on your territory today.”

Touma’s face screwed up, his nose wrinkling. “UP!” he demanded, in his most Kuchiki-like tone.

“And here I thought I was only good for top-spinning,” Renji grinned, tossing the boy up onto his shoulders. From his high perch, Touma beamed, the king of all he surveyed.

“He likes you,” Rukia murmured. Touma never warmed up to strangers. If they were lucky, he just tried to bury himself in Brother or Sister’s clothing. Otherwise, it was shouting. Rukia cleared her throat. “‘Up’ is new, I think. I haven’t heard him use ‘up’ before.”

“He’s a nice kid,” Renji replied, purposefully lurching dramatically from side to side while Touma squealed with delight.

“He’s my nephew and I love him, but he’s a terror,” Rukia pointed out. “His nurse is probably lying down in her room with a cold cloth over her eyes right now.”

“Can’t be more trouble than his pop,” Renji singsonged under his breath as he paused to let Touma pull at the leaves of a maple.

Suddenly, for the first time, Rukia let herself indulge in Hisana’s scheming. “The best way to avoid getting married off is to marry yourself off first.” Renji was a hundred times better than those spoiled noble sons that usually came around to tea. Hisana and Touma had obviously fallen to his charms, and even Byakuya seemed to tolerate him. Renji had been her friend once, as close as friends could be, really. Would it kill her to… consider it? He really did have nice arms.

“Rukia?” Renji was regarding her curiously.

“What?” she demanded, testily.

“Your face is bright red. Are you okay?”

Rukia took a deep breath through her nose. “I fibbed before,” she blurted out quickly. “My sister is… matchmaking. That’s why she invited you here.”

Renji froze, until Touma yanked on a piece of his hair with particular vigor. “Ow! Ow, buddy, that’s attached!”

“She’s such a romantic. If I told her we were old childhood friends, there’d be no talking her out of it,” Rukia muttered.

Renji had extracted Touma from his hair and was now carrying him upside down and pretending this was a natural and normal way to carry a child.

“Pardon my ignorance of the details,” he said slowly, “but aren’t you a little out of my league?”

“My stock has gone down lately,” Rukia shrugged. “I was already looked down on for being adopted, and almost getting executed didn’t do me any favors.” She chewed her lip for a moment. “And that’s sort of the point. Sister doesn’t want to see me married off for political gain, so she’s got it in her head to find me someone I like, and get the Elders to sign off on it at a time when they’d just as soon get rid of me.”

“Oh,” Renji replied. Then, very slowly, he said, “And your sister thought you’d like me?”

“Well, she likes you,” Rukia replied, crossing her arms over her chest. “I hardly know you.”

Renji put Touma down on the path, and the boy ran ahead to the bridge over the koi pond. “It took seven weeks the first time.”

Rukia blinked. “What did?”

“For you to like me. When we first met, you saved my life, me and the guys, and we split some water with you. You started hanging out with us almost immediately, but I could tell you didn’t like me. Seven weeks later, I made a humorous remark about a mutual acquaintance, and you laughed so hard you snorted. That’s when I knew. That you liked me, that is.”

“It was Haneda Kousuke, and you said his face looked like a butt that had been sat on too long,” Rukia cackled, unable to keep from cracking up as she said it.

Renji couldn’t help grinning either. “I was trying to be polite, up here in fancy-land.”

His eyes caught Rukia’s, and for a moment, no time had passed. He was her best friend again, her comfort, her confidant, the other half of her soul. “Never,” she exhorted him. “Not when it’s just you and me.”

And then her cheeks were burning and she was looking away, embarrassed. She glanced back at him out of the corner of her eye, and he was just looking down at her fondly. “I was hoping maybe it wouldn’t take seven weeks this time,” he said softly. “But I can wait for as long as you need.”

Rukia swallowed against her dry throat, and took a long time of pulling a stale piece of bread out of her sleeve and breaking it into bits for Touma to toss to the koi.

“I did want to see you again,” she finally admitted. “It’s nice to see you, is what I mean. I’m sorry to get you caught up in Sister’s grand schemes.” Touma scampered off and tossed the entire handful of crumbs into the pond, wholesale. Rukia sighed. “I’ll tell her the truth about… you know. How we are. I promise.” She tossed a crumb into the pond, and watched, glumly, as the koi preferred to jostle for Kouma’s cluster bomb over her lowly offering.

Suddenly, there was a much larger hand cupping her own. Rukia stared at it stupidly as Renji pinched out a few of her bread crumbs. Did he linger just a moment longer than necessary, before crouching down next to her nephew? “One at a time, pal,” he said gently, tossing out a crumb and holding out his hand for Touma to do the same.

Touma tried to grab the rest of Renji’s handful, but Renji closed his fingers around it. “One. Who taught you about patience? Your auntie?” He opened his hand again, and, scowling, Touma extracted a single crumb. Renji tilted his head up toward Rukia. “It would be good to get our stories straight, I think,” he said, “but maybe you should hold off on explainin’ to your sister ‘how we are’ until we get that figured out ourselves, eh?”

Rukia’s cheeks burned. “Did you hear the part where she wants you to marry me, you dummy?”

Renji tossed another crumb into the pond. “I heard it.” He didn’t say anything further.

“Oh,” was all Rukia could think to say.

[rayraywrites]

Title: Maybe things happen.

Chapter 3: Cooking Games (Day 2- Swap)

Characters: Miyuki Kazuya, Kuramochi Youichi, Sawamura Eijun (minor)

Relationship: Miyuki Kazuya x Kuramochi Youichi

Rating: General Audiences

Total Word Count: 2654

AO3

Event: @daiyarpwk2020​

Clicking on another video he focussed in on the same face that he’d been gazing at for hours. He laughed softly at the same lame intro he’d been hearing in each video. The same dorky glasses and apron. He gulped silently at each intense look shot at the camera when concentration was required. His smile grew as each successful cook was greeted with a brilliant grin.

“Welcome back to home plate kitchen.” The man shot a smirk at the camera before continuing, “I’m your favourite catcher, Miyuki, here to share another recipe.” 

Youichi barely focussed on the actual meal, simply watching the ease at which the man moved around his kitchen and the mastery of his art. He wasn’t a mess in the kitchen, but watching this chef easily switch between different styles and types of recipes each video and make successful food each time, it rankled a bit. Yet he was fascinated. 

But what drew him even more was the moments of silliness that would pepper throughout the videos. When Miyuki would sometimes attempt to lift a hot pan off the stove without mitts and then whip his hand back. The incredulous look on the man’s face coupled with rapidly shoving his burning hand under cold water pulled raucous laughter out of his mouth. He especially enjoyed when Miyuki’s housemate, Sawamura, would appear in the frame to pull silly faces that wouldn’t be seen until editing. The captions insulting Sawamura were particularly amusing for him. 

He had spent a couple days watching Miyuki’s videos, realistically he was binging them. It had been a lark, having seen a comment under one of his own videos about a week ago. 

gamer_goose35: you know what would be great? thechefcatcher and Mochi making a video together! They have the same type of humour! Plus think of the video options!

Youichi had been curious, having not heard about “thechefcatcher” before, so he looked the other youtuber up. That led to days of listening to the same sarcastic laughter, the snarky side comments at every recipe, and gazing at the talented movements that attracted him first. 

When he finally glanced at the clock on his laptop he saw that it was approaching three am. With a slightly hysterical laugh, Youichi closed the lid and placed it aside. He’d deal with his new strange obsession another time. Right now he needed to sleep. Tomorrow, well later that same day, he had plans to shoot two new videos. He needed the sleep. Getting under the covers, he tried to convince himself to fall asleep. But each time he closed his eyes, all he saw were Miyuki’s eyes blinking back at him. He spent much of the night tossing and turning, restlessly attempting to fall asleep.

--

Clicking on the email icon, Kazuya began deleting all the trash that filled his inbox. Switching between his calendar and an email from another cooking channel who reached out to him for a collab, he sent off a couple days that would fit his schedule. Switching to his social media, Kazuya sent out the usual morning tweet that his followers were expecting. Nabe had recommended that he start interacting more with his fans, and disagreeing with his manager was something Kazuya had quickly learnt wasn’t a smart decision.

@thechef_catcher: good morning. But also what constitutes a “good” morning. We’re all waking up much too early and having to go to work and slog our way through the day. So really...just morning. (6:37 AM)

There, that would keep Nabe off his back, for at least a couple days. Sliding off his bed, Kazuya winced slightly as his foot hit the ground a bit too hard. Waiting for the jarring feeling in his ankle to subside before trying to stand again, he glared down at the floor. Finally feeling up to standing up again, Kazuya moved towards his closet, changing into his usual jogging outfit. With it being the off season, he could usually find Sawamura hovering around the kitchen. Sure enough the pitcher was still there, ready for their morning run. 

As normal, Kazuya put in earbuds, drowning out Sawamura’s inane chatter so early in the morning and stepped outside of their apartment. He had thrown in a small heating pad into his bag before leaving the house, in case his ankle started acting up again. Running their usual route, Kazuya let himself sink into the music and the monotonous sound of his feet pounding on the pavement. By the time they rounded back to the apartment Kazuya could feel the sweat running down his neck. With a shaky grin he nodded his head back at the street, telling Sawamura to keep going. Heading back inside, Kazuya went straight for a shower, changed into his outfit for the day, grabbed his computer and headed towards the kitchen.

Today’s video was going to be about Sanuki Udon. He had spent a couple weeks working with the local udon shop alongside the chefs to perfect his technique. He had already filmed his first failed attempts a while back, following recipes online. Setting the cameras up, he prepped the kitchen before picking up his phone. Texting Sawamura that he would be busy for the next hour or so, Kazuya got started. Slipping his branded apron over his head, he switched the camera on and began speaking.

“Ohayo everyone! Welcome back to home plate kitchen. Your friendly neighbourhood catcher is here!” He said the words with an awkward smile, hating that Sawamura had convinced him to start his videos with such a cheesy introduction. Even if it worked as his fans took to the puns and silly intro, he hated it, but he carried on. 

Seven years ago Kazuya would never have considered that his days would be littered with recording himself cooking, editing videos, and becoming as unathletic and baseball oriented as he had. But another bad collision at home plate, and a shattered ankle had ended his career. Six months after he managed to walk on his ankle safely, he was still just sitting around his home and moping. It had been Sawamura’s suggestion to start the channel, something to do for fun while he figured out what to do with his career now. Kazuya had been uninterested at first, putting in very little effort and just cooking whatever came to mind. But the fact that people seemed to enjoy it and Sawamura kept crowing about how the channel kept growing made him start to give it a bit more attention. But even moreso, he started to enjoy it a bit more. There was something oddly enjoyable about just talking to a camera for a couple of hours and cooking food. And with Sawamura living with him, he wasn’t just cooking for himself. 

It was kind of nice. 

“Alright, with a completed dish, I think we’ve completed all nine innings, and it’s time for this video to wrap-up!” He placed the completed Sanuki udon onto the front of his counter. With the recording complete it was time for editing. Luckily with experience and time he’d managed to get better at editing. Moving back to his room with the camera SD cards he settled down at his desk. The video wouldn’t be released for another week or so, but Kazuya wanted to complete editing so that he’d have the rest of the day free. As he was fiddling with the font for the side text explaining each step he completed, he heard the extra chair in the room being dragged to sit beside him. Turning his head slightly he smirked at Sawamura who settled into the chair with a loud thump! Reaching over and ruffling the pitcher’s hair, he turned back to his computer. 

“How was your run, Sawamura?” 

“You missed out on the cutest dog Miyuki-senpai! It was adorable, with its tail wagging everywhere!” 

He couldn’t help but laugh at how Sawamura sounded like he’d seen the cutest thing on the planet. “Ah, so you met your family member, how lovely!” The affronted look on Sawamura’s face was worth all the hits his shoulder received.

“Stupid Miyuki, you’re just sad you missed out on the dog.” Sawamura’s countenance suddenly brightened as another brilliant idea came, “this Sawamura will make sure to take a photo for next time!”

Smiling to himself, Kazuya couldn’t help the sigh that escaped his lips. Sawamura never ceased to amuse him, but even moreso, he was a bright light in his life. He was still the most eye-catching sunflower Kazuya had ever seen. And fully bloomed. “Sure...whatever you say Bakamura.” 

“Idiot Miyuki....” Sawamura had switched to looking at his phone, muttering threats under his breath as he often did around Kazuya. 

Out of the corner of his eye Kazuya watched as Sawamura continued scrolling on his phone, becoming comfortable in the chair. Giving his full focus back to his video, Kazuya ignored his desk partner for about thirty minutes until a loud shout made him almost jump. Turning and glaring at Sawamura, Kazuya waited impatiently for an explanation. 

“Miyuki! Mochi uploaded another video! It’s a cooking video!” Sawamura’s voice was loud as ever, but laced with astonishment.

He felt the joy course through his body, excitement filling his veins at the news. Both of them had gotten hooked onto @gamermaimer’s videos a few years back. Sawamura enjoyed the commentary while Mochi played the game, but Kazuya had become enthralled with the gamer’s voice. There was something soothing about it, but he also felt something from the grainy sounds. And then, last year they’d received a face reveal, Kazuya had been floored. He hadn’t expected to find spiked green hair, eyeliner, and a lip piercing as attractive as he had. 

“Give me ten minutes, I should be ready to watch.” He tried to nonchalantly speak, but he knew Sawamura was aware of his crush. The number of times Sawamura had recommended that he contact Mochi to collab was high, but every time he looked at the differences in their video styles, Kazuya hesitated. But cooking? Maybe there was a chance here. They sat down to watch the video.

“Hey maimers! Obviously this isn’t my usual set up, but I’ve been inspired. One of you folks recommended a channel for me to watch and maybe collab with.” 

They both laughed when Mochi fumbled with his phone to read off the channel, but then froze when he said the name.

“Oh what was it...here we go! thechefcatcher! I’ve spent the past few days watching....”

Kazuya felt his breath catch in his throat, disbelief pouring out of him. But when he turned towards Sawamura, the same surprise was on the pitcher’s face. 

What.

--

Youichi was nervous releasing the video. He had struggled through the cook, even if he had picked a fairly straightforward dish to make. Baking was not his forte though and the roof would probably always have that strange orange-coloured splotch on it from his first attempt. But embarrassing himself for a video was not a big deal, he’d done it before. It was the fact that he’d called out his new obsession, he’d mentioned the youtuber who’d been living in his dreams. The tweet he’d posted had Miyuki tagged and for a normally brash person, Youichi was feeling uneasy about that decision.

The notification that @thechef_catcher liked and retweeted his tweet gave him heart palpitations. Deciding to take the plunge, he DM-ed Miyuki. 

@gamermaimer: hi

@thechef_catcher: hey

@gamermaimer: so...uh you watched my video...

@thechef_catcher: why else would I have rt your tweet? 

He stared blankly at his phone. What was that? He laughed in spite of himself, hysterically. 

@gamermaimer: yeah well. What did you think?

He meant about the offer of a collab at the end of the video. He meant the proposal of trying something new for both of them. What Miyuki responded with though?

@thechef_catcher: well you absolutely failed at every step so I’m amazed you managed to get any cake onto that table. 

@thechef_catcher: Geez Mochi, it’s almost like you bought a replacement cake to pretend you succeeded.

Somehow he wasn’t surprised to see that Miyuki’s personality was as twisted as it was. But it took two to tango.

@gamermaimer: well, if I sucked so bad, maybe you ought to come fix me?

He waited and the reply took more time to arrive compared to the last but it still came. He anxiously tapped the message notification. 

@thechef_catcher: perhaps I will.

He let out a sigh and his shoulders relaxed. Their conversation continued, figuring out dates and times that would work for both their schedules. They agreed that the first video would be with him in Miyuki’s kitchen. He asked if Sawamura would be there, and received a teasing response. So when Miyuki asked what video they would do for his channel, Youichi proffered the only realistic response.

@gamermaimer: well of course we have to play a video game.

It was only later, when he went to go follow Miyuki on twitter as well, that Youichi realized something. He shouted angrily, throwing his phone down onto the ground. Petulantly he whined to himself, “the idiot’s already following me.”

–– 

The day of filming was awkward. He arrived early, not by much, but early enough that it was obvious. He had already sent out the customary tweet announcing his “secret” plans for a video.

@gamermaimer: well sometimes you get lucky with your videos. Other times you meet a moron and make a stupid decision (10:34 AM)

Sawamura was there, hovering in the dining room. Fiddling with a camera setting even with Miyuki telling him to stop touching the camera every five seconds. Youichi blinked confusedly at both of them. They were fidgety and uncomfortable. Because of him?

“Hey! Hey idiots!” They both turned to him; Miyuki put down the pots he was randomly holding, Sawamura looked up from the camera. “What the hell is going on? Some explanation for your bizarre behaviour would be wonderful, please.” The last few words came out sarcastic, and he knew the look on his face matched his tone. For some reason being around both of them was easy. In the way most collabs never were; he felt at home with them. So he skipped past politeness and jumped straight into insults. “I realize that you’re both morons, but if we could at least get the video started?”

Miyuki seemingly calmed down at that, chuckling hesitantly even as he gazed at Sawamura with a lost look. But it was Sawamura seemingly snapping out of whatever funk he was in that finally set things normal. “Mochi!”

Youichi turned to face Sawamura expectantly, but the excitement seemed to have rapidly fizzled out before Sawamura exhaled deeply, you could see the air! He laughed to himself.

“Can I get a photo with you? I’ve...We’ve been watching you play for three years now!” 

He hadn’t expected that. Glancing at Miyuki, Youichi was stunned to see the usually calm face turning bright red before the chef looked down at the counter. Throwing his head back, Youichi let himself laugh freely, ignoring the squawks from Sawamura. Wiping tears from the corner of his eyes, he laughed softly one more time before replying. “Sure. Sure. But only if I get an autograph from you,” he nodded at Sawamura and then softly, “and your phone number.” He stared at Miyuki, waiting for acknowledgement. Miyuki nodded stiffly, but his eyes had only shifted from the counter to glare at Sawamura.

“I don’t exactly have three years as a credential...but is 48 hours of no sleep from binging your channel good enough?” He laughed at the stunned look on Miyuki’s face. “So, what do you say....my friendly neighbourhood catcher?” 

But rather than the huffy noise he expected, Miyuki still managed to surprise him. A smirk and, “well...I think you mean a maimer don’t you, Youichi?”

He grinned.