#so I'm having a third morning shift in a row

[keikikait]

ᴡᴀʏ ᴏᴜᴛ (ʙɪᴋᴇʀ!ᴍᴇɢᴜᴍɪ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

for my other megumi fic, click here (warning - smut!)

pairing: biker!megumi x f!reader (au, both are early to mid 20's)

word count: 2k

summary: you love your new apartment, as small as it is. it's in the perfect place, right next to the train station, and is cheap as hell. the only downside? your neighbour, who revs his bike outside your window every morning.

warnings: NO SMUT!, no angst!, multi part series, kind of enemies to lovers, slowburn?, megumi is kinda rude lmaoooo, the girls are fighting!, he says sweetheart twice, reader is kinda down bad lmao

a note: sorry for the delay, i've been busy with work! also, 8 square metres is about 86 square feet :).

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

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

The rent was cheap. Suspiciously cheap. 

You should’ve been wary, but you didn’t have many options. After a bitter fallout with your roommate, you needed to move out quickly. You should’ve paid more attention to the listing, you realise, as you stop in front of the building and it sinks in that your new digs weren’t 18 square metres.

It was eight square metres. 

Thankfully, you didn’t have much furniture with you, needing to sell it all to afford the move. Your apartment was essentially one long, two-story hallway, just enough for your desk chair and TV. 

You get settled in quickly, trying to liven up the place by replanting your herb garden outside on your small porch. The apartment doors faced an alley, and on the other side of the alley was another apartment building. You didn’t know how much sunlight your basil would get, but that’s a problem for future you.

A problem for the current you, however, was your neighbour's motorcycle. The bike is an exact replica of the legendary Honda Super Cub that was used in the original anime Akira, and as pretty as it is, that shit is loud. His apartment is right on the edge by the sidewalk, meaning the only place he can park it is right in front of your window.

You’ve tried everything. Earplugs. Noise-cancelling headphones. Ear plugs under your noise-cancelling headphones. Sleeping with a white noise machine. Nothing works. You only moved in a month ago but you’re already sick of this mysterious man and his bike. You don’t run into each other often, catching glimpses of him as he drives off in the morning and comes home at night. You didn’t want to be that neighbour, the one that complains about every single little thing, but it was driving you mad. He revs his bike so loudly and for so long, that you’re starting to think he’s doing it on purpose.

You wake up that fateful morning and decide you’ve had enough. You wait for him to return home, hyping yourself up in the mirror before heading outside to confront him. You idle nervously in front of his front door for a few seconds before knocking. 

He answers, looking exhausted, his hair a mess from his helmet. “Yeah?” You have to admit, he’s pretty cute. Tall and lean, with bicep muscles that strain against the fabric of his black t-shirt. And you swear you can see some eyeliner smudged on his water line.

You smile, trying to come across as calm and casual, slightly flustered by how attractive he is. “Hey. I’m your new next-door neighbour,” You gesture with your thumb. “I don’t wanna be that person, but would it be possible for you to not rev your engine so loud in the morning? It’s just…it’s right by my window, and it’s really loud.”

He lets out a sigh of frustration, not exactly in the mood for what you're throwing at him. It was already 9 pm on the third day in a row that he had worked the late shift, and this was not something he needed right now. He looks at you, his expression a mixture of irritation and confusion. “Look, I'm not doing it on purpose. I park where I park, nothing is going to change that. You just moved in, this is how it's been and how it's always going to be.”

You blink, a little taken aback by how rude he was being. “I understand that, but surely I'm not the only person in the building who gets inconvenienced by your bike.”

He crosses his arms, his eyes narrowing. The last thing he wants to do after a long shift is argue with someone about something as insignificant as noise. “Look, if you don't like it, then move out. I don't see anybody else complaining. You're the only one.”

You clench your jaw. You had some experience with bikes, your ex-boyfriend being a mechanic. You knew it was possible to make the revving quieter, it just seems like he didn’t care. “Can’t you just buy a muffler silencer?”

He lets out a short, sharp laugh, one that doesn't hold a single trace of humor.  “A muffler silencer? For a Super Cub? Are you serious? That would be like asking a Ferrari to be quiet.”

“You can’t expect everyone to just be okay with how loud your bike is, man.” You say. “I’m sure it inconveniences everyone in the building, but no one wants to be the person that confronts you.”

He seems to be holding back from saying what he wants to say, taking a shallow breath. “Look. It's my bike. I can do whatever I want with it. No one else is bothered, so why should you be any different? Why do you care so much?”

“You’re not the only person who works early mornings.” You say. “You aren’t the only person in the world, you know.”

That strikes a nerve, clearly, but he still doesn't seem interested in hearing what you're saying. He just rolls his eyes, looking away at his bike for a moment before looking back at you. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but in case you haven't realised, you're not that important.”

“Neither are you.” You say impulsively. It was mean, and you didn’t like being mean, but he wasn’t giving you any other option.

He glares at you, his expression darkening. It's only for a moment, but you can see there is actual vitriol in his eyes. “Look, I'm going to make this simple for you. If you don't like the noise, then move out. That bike is not going anywhere. It has more meaning to me than you'll ever understand.”

“Yeah, I’m sure Akira meant so much to you as a kid,” You say sarcastically. “It doesn’t matter. You can’t keep doing this, man. Buy a muffler silencer.” 

He laughs, but there's a slight tinge of bitterness to it. “Oh, so it's just a cartoon to you? It’s not an influential masterpiece that changed motorcycle and animation culture forever? Okay, great. Good to know.” He is starting to get worked up, but then he shakes his head, trying to regain his composure. “Look, like I said, I am not doing anything to this bike. Not the mufflers, nothing.”

“Then park it somewhere else.” You snap. “Keep it away from my window. I don’t want to hear that shit.”

There's a flash of annoyance on his face. “There's no place to park it away from your window unless I block the sidewalk, which I guarantee you would cause more inconvenience. You're just going to have to deal with it.”

“Are you always this rude and stuck up?” The question stumbles out of your mouth before your mind can process it.

His temper flares up. He takes a step towards you, putting his hands on his hips as he glares at you. “Are you always this entitled and self-absorbed?”

You take a step back. You hate to admit it, but the way he towers over you is arousing. His cologne fills your nostrils and you find yourself getting lightheaded. It was slightly spicy, with a hint of vanilla and coffee. 

You ground yourself, swallowing hard. “Look, I don’t want to argue with you. I just want us to come to a reasonable compromise.”

He glares at you, his eyes boring into you as you step back. You can feel the heat on your skin as if every drop of sweat in his body has been activated by the situation. His cologne is overwhelming you, filling your whole body. “There is no compromise to make here. You don't like the noise, tough. You're just going to have to get used to it or move out. That's it.”

Your eye twitches. “You’re such an asshole.” At this point, you didn’t feel bad being mean to him. He kind of deserved it.

He laughs, seeming almost amused by your temper. “You're one to talk. You come barging up to my apartment, demanding I make changes to my bike, and then you get mad at me when I tell you not to waste your time. Look in the mirror, sweetheart, and then come back with the right to tell me I'm an asshole.”

Fuck. You shouldn’t like the way he says sweetheart, but it causes your throat to dry up. “I tried to be nice to you,” You say. “You’re the one that got defensive and rude.”

“Nice? Maybe in your little dreamland that's what you think you were doing. Maybe you even believe that you were just being friendly and reasonable, I don't know. But in reality, all you were doing was pissing me off and acting like some sort of entitled princess.” He takes a step closer to you, his finger pointed in your face. “But one thing is certain. I’m not changing anything about my bike just to make you happy.”

He’s so close to you that it makes your head spin. You step back again, leaning against the railing surrounding his small porch. “Look, I’m sorry, but you can’t blame me for being upset.”

He doesn't seem interested in letting you off the hook yet, not when he looks so close to snapping. “It doesn't matter if you're upset or not. You don't get what you want by coming here and giving me an attitude like a fucking brat.”

You swallow hard. Fuck. You shouldn’t be attracted to this man, he was rude as hell and didn’t seem to care that he was inconveniencing not only you but everyone in the building. But you couldn’t help yourself. He was so pretty, and he smelled so good, and his voice was so nice. You were going to have to change your panties when you got back home. 

You stand up straight, trying to stay headstrong. “You’re being incredibly rude about this.”

“And you're being incredibly entitled. There's only one of us that needs to change here, and it's not me.” He narrows his eyes, his gaze still burning into you.

You lick your lips. “Look, we’re not going to get anywhere by arguing.”

He gives another one of those short, sharp laughs. He smiles, and it makes your stomach flip. “You finally said something smart. I didn’t know it was so difficult for you. Now, are you ready to accept that you're not going to get what you want, or do you want to keep wasting my time?”

Your eyes narrow. What the fuck? “Excuse me? Did you just call me dumb?”

A smirk spreads across his lips. “You heard me. Or did you need me to repeat it for you?”

You let out a sharp laugh, moving off of his porch. “You know what? Fuck you.”

He raises his eyebrow, a faint smile on his lips. “Oh, so you've switched from demanding to insults? Real mature, aren't you?”

You head over to your apartment, laughing again. “I should’ve known trying to reason with you would be impossible.” 

He calls after you. “You're damn right it's impossible. You come here, make some demands, and then get mad when I tell you no. You're a spoiled brat who always gets her way, aren't you? Well, today's a bad day for you, sweetheart.” 

“Fuck you.” You say, holding the door to your apartment open. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I’m not sure I want to.” He says, smirking slightly. “I’m not into brats like you. I think you need to be taken down a few pegs. You need someone to put you in your place.”

You scoff and flip him off before slamming the door behind you, and just like that, you have given up. 

He leans against his door, crossing his arms and smiling as he watches you leave, his eyes on your ass. He’s just a tiny bit disappointed that you gave up so quickly. He's got to admit, it was pretty fun messing with you, watching how angry you get. He thought you looked cute like that, your cheeks all red and flustered.

Maybe next time…

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part two is here

dedicated to the lovely @whereflowerswenttodie

[megalony]

No Interruptions

This is another Eddie Diaz request from Anon, I loved writing this so much. My third post of the day, I'm on a writing high right now. Enjoy, thank you all for the constant requests and support.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefanthefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn  @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway

Masterlist

Summary: Eddie has some time before his shift and he intends on spending it with his wife early in the morning. His son, however, has other ideas and Eddie starts to get desperate for his wife.

Enjoy.

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

A groan rumbled up Eddie's chest and past his lips when he checked the time on his phone. He turned off the alarm in advance and threw his phone back under the pillow where he left it during the night.

He wasn't looking forward to this. Two days on the trot; four shifts in a row where he could get a few hours of sleep in the bunker in between. God knows how many callouts he was going to see over the next two days.

But it was going to be two days away from Christopher. Two full days away from his wife, and when she looked like this, that felt like a crime.

He wasn't ready for a long shift away, he hadn't done over a fourteen hour shift in over two months and this past month it was starting to feel like he was finally living at home, not the station. Eddie didn't want that balance to shift back to where he worked at the station and visited his house.

He moved his hand that was stuck under the pillow and rubbed his eyes to try and wake himself up and get his mind going. But a smile curved at his lips when he felt (Y/n)'s fingers curl around his arm that had been laid over her chest in his sleep. She pulled his arm tighter around her chest and started to glide her fingers up and down his skin until he was shivering with goosebumps beneath her touch. And when she kissed his arm and peppered a trail up his bicep, he was leaning forward, groaning into her hair.

It was always hit and miss how they would wake up in a morning. Sometimes Eddie would wake up on the edge of the bed with Christopher wedged between them. Other times he had (Y/n) laid directly on top of him and he realised why he dreamed he was drowning because it was hard to breathe but he wouldn't have it any other way.

He liked these mornings the best, where he woke up with her wrapped up in his arms and a while before he had to get up and ready for shift. And when there was no little monster in the bed with them, mornings like this got even better.

"Do you have to go soon?" (Y/n) muttered the words quietly against his arm, her voice laced with sleep but her fingers were still running up and down his arm. And Eddie could feel her shuffling back until her back was moulded against his bare chest as if the minimal space between them was an ocean she wanted to disappear.

"Hm, I've got some time."

(Y/n)'s eyes shot open and a gasp tumbled past her lips when the arm she had been holding onto shot down to her waist and he rolled her over onto her back. She could feel herself laughing quietly when Eddie climbed over her and moved so he was kneeling between her legs. Both his hands planted down on the pillow beside her head and his teeth flashed in a sharp grin that made his eyes crease at the corners.

She brought her hands up to cup his face, smoothing her thumbs over his cheekbones as he leaned down to press a kiss to her lips.

"Afraid this has to go, though." Eddie leaned back and rested his weight on his heels before his hands slowly trailed down her sides until he could grab the hem of her shirt. It clung to her frame tight enough that there was nothing left to the imagination and when (Y/n) bit her lip but obliged and leaned up to let him peel it off, it was like he was taking off a layer of her skin.

He threw the small, flimsy material down on the floor and gave the cover a nudge until it fell off his back and crumpled to the bottom of the bed. He was starting to burn up already, they didn't need any extra layers on covering them.

While he took a moment to admire the view in front of him, (Y/n) took her chance to scrape her nails agonisingly slow over his skin, starting from his abdomen and she worked her way up until her hands were curved around his neck. Her fingers tickled the small hairs at the back of his neck and she sat up to meet him in the middle, moulding her chest against his before she pulled his lips down to hers.

(Y/n) could feel the fever behind his kiss and the way his fingertips dug bruisingly into her hips when she pushed her chest up against him just to irritate him and goad him further.

Her lips curved into a smile against his and when she pulled back (Y/n) sucked his lower lip between her teeth and have a small tug until she could feel the growl deep in his chest, rumbling through into her own.

Her fingertips slid away from the back of his neck and trailed their way back down the middle of his chest, covering every square inch that she would. Her plump lips left Eddie's and moved towards his razor sharp jaw and when she could feel him starting to quiver beneath her, she started to kiss down his neck.

The moment her teeth grazed against his neck about to leave a mark, Eddie grabbed her wrists that were near his abdomen and leaned his weight onto her. He pushed her down into the bed again and fell forward with her until his chest was moulded down against hers and her hands were pinned down to the mattress. He tried to keep some of his weight on his legs and arms so he wasn't fully crushing her beneath him but he could still feel every inch of her pressing into him. Even the curve of her small bump moulded perfectly against his lower abdomen.

"My turn." There was something demanding and authorative in his voice that was not to be messed with and all (Y/n) could do was turn to mush beneath his touch.

She barely had chance to gasp before Eddie smothered her mouth with his and let his tongue explore past her lips.

Wet, panting kisses were peppered along her neck and down the middle of her throat so every time she gasped or swallowed, Eddie could feel each movement. He let go of her hands and moved his fingertips across her sides and down the dips and curves to that special area just above her hips where (Y/n) was ticklish. He loved the way her stomach would pull in and she would jump against his touch when all he had to do was lightly trace the pad of his finger along her skin and it had her gasping and laughing beneath him.

"We won't be needing these any more." He hooked his fingers into the top of her underwear and shuffled back on his knees to remove them when (Y/n) lifted her legs.

She watched him throw the dark red lace onto the floor along with her top and a deep laugh rumbled past his lips when she pressed her feet against his hips and managed to push his boxers down rather easily from where she was laid on her back. If he wasn't going to let her sit up and do it manually, she had to get creative.

"I can't decide whether that's eager or impressive,"

"Make up your mind while you take them off."

(Y/n) quipped back, leaning up on her elbows a little so she could watch him lean up and roll them past his knees so he could kick them on the floor. When they were off, (Y/n) sat up and looped her arms back round his neck, desperate to be as close as possible.

"I'm gonna go with eager, but then again so am I." Eddie's hands groped at her hips, admiring the view in front of him now that there were no layers between them.

"Don't think you can last two days, Eddie?" She knew exactly what kind of reaction she got from using his name and as expected, something burned darker and deeper in his eyes.

She felt his hand move and his arm wrapped like an iron bar around her back just above her bum so he could reel her in and pull her closer. He held her so close and tight that he left her up and she had to move her weight onto her feet and the back of her legs to stay tall and close to him like this. Her hands gripped his shoulders to steady herself but she gasped when his other hand moved to grip the underside of her thigh before he pushed her back.

(Y/n) felt her back hit the headboard and her knees coiled up as Eddie shifted forwards onto her chest and kneeled between her spread legs like he always had and always would belong there.

"Don't think I can last two minutes, let alone two days," He gruffed back before their lips crashed together in a silent but deadly battle. He dug his nails tighter into her thigh and moved her leg to hook it around his hip so he could brace his hand on the wall behind the bed. The last thing Eddie wanted was to put all of his weight onto (Y/n) or give her bruises down her spine from the wooden headboard.

"Fuck, Eddie-"

"Mummy!"

"Shit! Shit, no Chris don't do this to me." Eddie buried his face in the crook of (Y/n)'s neck and sank his teeth down on the soft flesh. Praying Chris would settle himself back down and carry on sleeping just for a bit longer. This was the worst timing Chris had ever had, he couldn't shout out yet.

Not now. Now when Eddie needed (Y/n) too; he needed her badly.

"Mummy, help! Mummy!" Oh God, he was crying. He wasn't going to settle himself back to sleep or occupy himself with his books or games or tv in his room. Not when he was crying, he must have had a nightmare and if that happened he wouldn't settle or go back to sleep. He needed one of his parents in there to console him and make him feel better and calm him down.

"Fuck!" Eddie's hand clenched into a fist against the wall and he moved his head to press his lips against the side of (Y/n)'s head. "Why's he doing this to me? Blocked by my own kid."

"Mummy!"

"Sorry baby. I'm coming sweetheart." (Y/n) tilted her head up to kiss the side of Eddie's jaw when he shuffled back an inch to let her move even though he really didn't want to.

"Don't think I will be today,"

"Eddie!" She batted her hand against his shoulder when she pushed off the bed and scanned the floor quickly for something to wear. She couldn't very well walk into his room wearing nothing at all, that would only unsettle him even more.

The first thing (Y/n) grabbed happened to be one of Eddie's work shirts. A back t-shirt with the fire station logo and number in a circle on the left side of her chest. It barely covered her bum so she had to grab Eddie's boxers and slip them on as well but when she did she heard her husband groan and when she turned around, he was kneeling up in the middle of the bed staring at her.

Why did she have to look that good wearing his clothes? That shirt alone with nothing else on underneath was more than enough to drive Eddie crazy. He could see every ridge and curve of her body beneath it and she didn't even realise how she swayed her hips when she walked.

"That's teasing," He muttered defeatedly with his fingers dragging through his hair in a rigid motion.

(Y/n) could hear his harsh steps following her out of their room and she barely turned her head over her shoulder to see what he was doing before he reached out for her. His hand caught her chin and he tilted her head up so he could give her a searing kiss before he let her go.

"I need to get ready," Eddie spoke more to himself and he turned off into the bathroom when (Y/n) diverted down into Chris's room.

He was so close.

There was no way Eddie was going to last two days away when (Y/n) was stood there like that, burning her image into his eyes and leaving it on his brain. How could he go out on a call and focus when his wife was at home looking that good and he couldn't even touch her?

"Chris, I need to head off now. You be good for me and I'll be back Friday night, okay?" Eddie strapped his watch around his wrist before he crouched down beside the table Chris was sat at. He was still wearing his pyjamas and dressing gown, munching away on his cereal.

"Okay, love you."

"I love you too." With his hand pressed against the back of Chris's head, Eddie kissed his temple and leaned over to hug him before he got to his feet and looked over at (Y/n).

The sight of her stood there like that was enough to make Eddie growl and rethink going into work today.

She was still wearing his shirt and boxers which were glued rather shapely against her bum. And his shirt hung off her left shoulder as if giving him a sneak preview of what he was missing out on but it was the way his shirt was bunched up over her hip that made it hard to stay in control. He wanted to go over there and rip it over her head and drag the boxers down to her ankles.

A shiver rolled down (Y/n)'s spine when a familiar pair of strong arms coiled around her waist and she felt Eddie's chin perch on her shoulder. He pulled her back into his chest and lifted her high enough that she had to push up on her tiptoes to stay balanced against him.

The feeling of him breathing and sucking at her neck had her knees going weak but when she looked at the watch strapped on his wrist, she knew he was going to be late if he stayed. And Christopher was awake now, they couldn't exactly do anything without him hearing or noticing. He was an observant kid.

"You'll be late," She turned her head to look at him and he caught her lips in a kiss instead and she could feel his hands slip beneath her shirt. His palms pressed flat against the curve of her stomach before his fingertips traced lower and dipped into the waistband of his boxers that she was wearing.

Two days was going to feel like two years at this rate.

"Eddie, baby… you," Kiss. "Have to," Kiss. "Go."

Maybe she should walk him to the door to make sure he actually left. It wouldn't do him any favours to be late to work when he had a clean track record so far.

She turned around in his arms and have him a gentle nudge until he was walking backwards, his arms back around her waist with his elbows dug into her hips and his hands now cupping her bum beneath the underwear she wore. Her hands reached up to rub across his chest and she continued to nudge him backwards while he stole kiss after kiss from her lips like it was the last time he was going to see her and he was getting his money's worth.

"Don't wanna go,"

"Two days, baby. Then you're off all weekend and Chris is at his sleepover. No chance of interruptions, you'll be mine all weekend."

"Hm, but I want you now." The weekend felt so far away when Eddie had to leave her right now and stay at the station for the next two days. He had to get his head in gear and rush into uncertain situations with this image of (Y/n) at the forefront of his mind. He had to save people and clean the trucks and take a power nap in the back room of the station, all while (Y/n) danced across his mind and all he could have was her voice on the other end of the phone.

And even then, he knew Chris would steal the phone because he wouldn't go to sleep unless Eddie said goodnight to him over the phone when he was away at work.

"Go to work,"

Eddie moved one arm behind him to unlock the door and grab his keys from the lock. He stepped back over the threshold but when (Y/n) moved out of his arms, he held the doorframe and the door to prevent her from closing the door on him.

He waited until (Y/n) cupped his face in her hands and tugged him down to press a feverish kiss to his lips. She let him swipe his tongue across her lower lip, begging for entrance before she pulled back, mumbling a quiet 'I love you' against his lips before giving him a final nudge out the door.

Two days. Two whole fucking days.

How was he going to survive with that image burned into his mind and the desire bubbling away inside of him?

***

Leaning over the bed, (Y/n) pressed a lasting kiss against the top of Christopher's head and smoothed his curls down before she turned on the night light and moved back. He was that tired tonight that he didn't want to wait up for Eddie to come home from shift, he wanted to go to bed and sleep because he knew when his dad came home, he would come in and kiss him goodnight anyway.

She waited an extra second just to make sure he was asleep and settled before she turned on her heels and headed out of the room.

The door barely closed behind her before (Y/n) jumped back against it and gasped when a figure loomed over her in the dim light coming from the living room.

Eddie.

"Christ Eddie, what are you trying to do to me?" (Y/n) pressed a hand over her chest and grabbed his arm to steady herself. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest and jumping up into her throat while the baby started to move from fright.

"You have no idea how long the last two days have been."

With that, Eddie's arms were around her waist and he was pulling her away from Chris's bedroom so they didn't wake him. He wasn't having anymore interruptions this time around. He had gotten so close the other day only for the plans to be ruined and he had spent the last two days desperate to get back home to his wife and take her to bed.

That was exactly what he was planning to do.

(Y/n) grinned and coiled her arms around his neck when his hands moved to cup the back of her thighs and he lifted her up off her feet. He hoisted her up in his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist so she was sat low on his hips. Able to feel every ridge of part of him and see what her image had done to him these past two days.

"No interruptions this time," It was a statement more than a plea or a request and (Y/n) could only nod in agreement before he was smothering her with his lips.

He kissed every inch of skin he could see and reach. Her neck, down her throat then back up to her lips, her nose, her cheek. He nibbled and then bit down harder on her jaw until she was moaning against his lips and gripping his neck tighter. She barely felt him move until she heard the bedroom door open and realise he was carrying her towards their bed.

"I missed you, Eddie. Can you guess how much?"

Her bum hit the bed with a thud and she took the initiative to lay down on her back and dig her heels into the dip on his lower back to pull him down with her.

"God, you're mine now." He groaned in her ear while he unhooked her legs from his waist so he could pull her underwear down so hard and fast (Y/n) heard a rip in the fabric. Looks like she wouldn't be wearing those ones again anytime soon. And they were his favourite pair too.

"Always."

"Let's try again, shall we?"

[peachesofteal]

Simon praising Darling for being a good girl when she announces she’s pregnant 😮‍💨 like I’m sorry sir, who gave you the right to be so damn hot when you’re FICTIONAL?!

And Darling is just confused af about wtf he means. Like does she ever find out they fucked with her BC and knocked her up?? I must know, I must have more 😈🤭

He's like, 'you've done so well, darling' and she's like 'wait, what the fuck just happened?'

AU - not canon for Dead Disco Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI. Brief mention of smut, mature themes. Angst. Vomiting. Doctors. Pregnant reader. Relationship issues. Dark themes.

"I've got ya." Johnny coos while he rubs your back where you are kneeling over the toilet, breakfast and bile coming up your throat with every other heave.

"I hate this." you moan between pants, propping your arm up to rest your head. He clucks his tongue, standing to run a cloth under the sink and returning to press it to your forehead gently. It's cold, and soft, and moving in easy circles.

"I know, darling. I know." You push away, slumping into his arms, letting him cuddle you close while he leans back against the bathroom wall and you count his heartbeats from where your head lays on his chest.

The door creaks open, and Simon's halfway inside, peering down at the two of you, mild concern in his eyes while he studies your slouching form.

"Third time today." He notes with a frown, and you nod. They count, keep track of everything, so they can recall it for your doctor's visits and make sure everything is still within 'normal' range. Morning sickness, your doctor has assured them too many times to count, is very normal.

"Morning sickness, the nausea, vomiting, is all normal."

"She's sick multiple times a day." Simon grits out. Johnny shifts his weight nervously, while you sigh and pat his hand comfortingly.

"If we were seeing drastic weight loss, or the panels were coming back outside of normal range, I would be concerned. But that's not happening. So, you've nothing to worry about." You give her a relieved smile, and hope they'll actually listen this time, although you know it's kind of pointless. "So," she claps her hands, and then motions to the table, and Johnny visibly brightens. This is everyone's favorite part, the ultrasound. You always glue your eyes to the screen, holding you breath to see the baby, the little blob in black and grey, your own little bean. You're obsessed with the sound of the heartbeat, taking comfort in its strength, its steadiness. So much so you bought a fetal doppler, just so you could all hear it at home. "Should we take a peek?"

"I'm fine." you assure him, holding a hand out. "Help me up." He grips you by your elbow, pulling you to your feet and into him briefly, so he can nuzzle his nose into your hair with a deep breath. "Now get out, I'm gross. Need to wash my face." You insist, pushing both him and Johnny into the hallway playfully before closing the door.

You have a lot of drawers, in this bathroom. Almost all of them actually, and most of them are a bit of a mess, unorganized, things strewn about. Sometimes, like now, you have to dig around for things. You're looking for something specific, a heavier moisturizer, one that can combat some of the dryness around your nose. Your fingers flip through tubes and tubs and creams, old mascara and half busted hair clips. You tsk, irritated that you're having a hard time finding the blue jar, until-

Your fingers brush against your old birth control pack. Encased in a cream colored piece of plastic, little pills lined up in a row. Just the sight of it frustrates you. After so many years, it finally failed. Finally let you down.

You don't know, but you pull it out. Maybe to look at it closer, to see if it will be expired by the time you finally need it again, or maybe, just to look at the thing that was your one constant since you were practically a child.

Either way. You study it closer, and that's how you notice the corner of the pill tray. The little foil piece on the corner is lifted, just a smidge, just enough for you not to notice, but when you peel it, it comes away so easily, so perfectly, with minimal adhesive. Like's it been pulled away before and put back in place. Like it's been moved.

When you realize, the floor room spins. It shudders around you, bathroom walls curving closer and closer to where you stand in front of the sink, eyes wide, dumbfounded. They wouldn't. They wouldn't. Would they? You blink at yourself in the mirror. You look, tired, but mostly healthy, a true testament to absolute hovering that has been occurring in your life over the past five months. You never lift a finger, you don't want for anything.

Because you're pregnant.

Because you're pregnant, with their baby, that you thought you got knocked up with on accident.

Your stomach curdles. They did this on purpose. Your fingers clench against the stone of the sink while you remember, all those nights when they pressed you to the mattress and made you see stars, while they filled you with their come over and over, every day. They were actively trying. They wanted this. A giant black hole rips open inside of you. It sucks your joy, your happiness, your dreams of future into it immediately. It dismantles everything you thought you knew as truth, takes a hammer and smashes apart every single second of the last five months.

They took your choice away. You stomach flips, and the you’re flinging yourself back in front of the toilet, bile spewing on your lips while you dry heave. It burns, the sting matching the sear of the tears that track down your face.

How could they do this?

[yuly]

↬ Traffic Stop ↫

Aaron Hotchner (Police Officer AU) x female reader 

Summary: a traffic stop ignites something unexpected in Officer Hotchner 

Warnings: unsafe driving practices! minor curse words, use of km/h because I’m Canadian, fluff, hurt/comfort

A/N: I could not get this idea out of my head for a week straight, hope you enjoy♡

Pic credit: @maschotch​

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You are driving home after your third 12-hour night shift in a row, feeling mentally and physically drained. Although the sun is far too bright, you find yourself fighting to stay awake and turn up the radio in an earnest effort to not fall asleep behind the wheel. You're daydreaming of a bubble bath and soft pyjamas when you notice flashing lights in your rearview mirror.

Shit

There's a cop car behind you, signalling for you to pull over. You wince at your dash as you realize you were going nearly 20km/h above the speed limit. 

Shit, shit, shit

This is your first time getting pulled over and you panic as you realize you’re way too exhausted to mentally cope with this level of stress right now. As you pull over, you silently pray that the ticket won’t cost you all that you've earned over the past 3 nights. 

The police officer approaches your car with steady steps as you roll down your window, counting backwards from 10 in your head.

“Good morning ma’am, do you have any idea why I pulled you over today?” he is tall, with an authoritative voice.

When you look up at him, the morning sun kisses your face, he can see the tired lines and bags around your eyes, but you look stunning regardless. He doesn’t show it, but he’s instantly taken aback by your beauty.

“Good morning officer, no I-I’m not sure. Sorry.”

Shit

You're starting to lose it on the inside. Why did you just lie? Of course you know why he pulled you over, what the hell were you thinking? 

He sighs slowly, and you feel your stomach sink, thinking it's a wrap for you and that he is totally over your bullshit. Little do you know that he’s sighing out of annoyance with himself for being so distracted by your looks.

“Ma’am, you were driving well above the speed limit. May I see your license and registration?”

“Yes, of course.”

Your mind is racing.  

Calm down Y/N, you know what he's asking you, you have both in the glove box, you can do this, you are an adult for God’s sake.

You hand over the documents and avoid meeting his eyes. 

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

Your mind is scrambled from exhaustion and momentary stress but you still have the capacity to register how good-looking the cop is. Despite the situation, something about his aura was pleasant, and now that he left your side, you feel uneasy. You shrug it off as a side effect of the stress you're under.

“Alright Ma’am, seeing as you have no previous offences, I will let you off with a warning this time.”

His gaze is firm but not unkind as he hands you back your documents

“Oh! Thank you, officer, thank you,” you exhale a breath you didn't realize you had been holding in.

“Are you coming from work? You seem tired.” he glances over to your hospital badge on the passenger seat.

You feel your face flush, slightly embarrassed.

“Yes sir, I'm coming off a night shift.”

He hums in understanding, “alright, well please drive safe and maintain the rules of the road for the rest of your trip home.”

“Yes sir, thank you.”

You smile graciously at him and he simply nods in response. Once you're sure he’s at his car your bounce in your seat out of joy, relief washing over you like a tidal wave.

As he walks towards his patrol car, Hotch can feel the dread in his stomach, he knows that your smile will haunt him for days to come. He finds himself on the side of the road for a solid 10 minutes, lost in thought, your eyes, your smile, your voice all swarming his mind. His radio comes on and he's pulled back to the dull reality of life without you. 

The months following the traffic stop are especially difficult for Hotch. He knows your first and last name, the make and model of your car, your license plate, your home address, and that you work in a hospital. Given his profession, he has the means to easily locate you at any moment, but he would never cross that line. Aaron Hotchner is an upstanding officer with firm morals, he has never been one to bend the rules or turn a blind eye, especially not for his own benefit. 

He knows the chances of running into you again are slim to none, yet he finds himself volunteering to patrol that same road for weeks on end. 

He has come to treasure that early morning interaction with you, every word branded in his memory, as he continues to hold onto the fleeting hope of ever being in your presence again.

Nearly six months later, he finds himself attending a wedding with an old friend of his. There is something in the air that night, he could sense it as soon as he stepped through the entrance, an aura of serenity and contentment, eerily similar to the feeling he got when you rolled down your window that morning, many months ago. He thinks nothing of it.

As he sits in his assigned seat, he can’t help but observe the couples around him as they sit side by side, enjoying each other’s presence. He can’t help but think of you, how are you? What could you be doing at this very moment? He hopes you are safe and happy. As he drinks the champagne in front of him, Hotch lets himself imagine a perfect world, one where he gets to have you by his side and enjoy a simple life.

He’s lost in thought when he hears Rossi mumbling near him, and he realizes his friend has been talking to him this entire time. Hotch nods and Rossi gets up, presumably to go to the dance floor. As he absent-mindedly gazes on, his eyes land on someone in particular and he nearly chokes on air.

You are standing only a few feet away, wearing a blush-coloured dress made of velvety material, your hair is beautifully done, and your makeup soft and dewy. You are a vision. At some point in his realization that it was truly you standing right there, Hotch stood from his seat, mesmerized by your beauty, he gathers his guts to approach you when an older man comes to your side to place a soft kiss to your forehead. 

His heart shatters and anger pulses through his veins. It's a cruel joke the universe is playing on him, allowing him to catch a glimpse of you for the second time, only to snatch the dream away in the worst possible manner. He abruptly leaves the table, no longer in the mood to be semi-social. 

About twenty minutes later, you excuse yourself from the table to visit the bathroom, afterwards, you make a quick detour to the entrance of the villa to catch a few minutes of fresh air. The property is breathtaking and the evening air is crisp. As you stand before the grandiose garden, admiring the beauty of the flowers and shrubs, you notice a lone man standing off to your right.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to intrude, just catching some fresh air,” you decide to politely announce your presence now to avoid any awkwardness later. 

He slowly turns to you, his heart clenching at the sound of your sweet voice.

“Oh! I think I know you from somewhere…..” you frown and pout softly as you try to place this gorgeous man. The champagne from earlier is doing you no favours.

He chuckles at your adorable expression, “I’m flattered you remember me from such a short interaction, ma’am.”

“Oh!” you squeak. Shit. He’s the cop that let you off with a warning. You suddenly feel under a microscope and straighten your posture. He notices your slight change in demeanour and smiles warmly.

“Easy, I’m off the clock, and besides, you are a law-abiding citizen, aren’t you?” he teases.

You smile shyly, “yes sir” you respond in a soft, friendly tone.

“You can call me Aaron,” he stretches out a friendly hand for you to shake

“I’m Y/N.” as you smile at him he can feel his heart clenching once more. 

His mind is telling him not to go any further, pursuing this while knowing you are unavailable to him would be futile and painful. But Hotch is a helpless romantic at heart, he is physically unable to walk away from you. The two of you fall into easy conversation. At first, it's mostly him teasing you about your driving, he then inquires about your job and your well-being. He is momentarily stunned when you return his questions and the eager expression that accompanies it. 

Loud cheering from inside the wedding brings you back to reality. 

"Oh! I should get back to the party, it was so nice seeing you, Aaron."

Hearing you use his name stirs something in him that he would be ashamed to admit. 

"Likewise," he smiles, showing off his dimples.

As you walk inside, he feels the familiar feeling of dread return to his gut. What was he supposed to do with himself now?

"Y/N!"

You stop dead in your tracks and turn back to him with an inquisitive look.

"Look I-I know you came here with someone but I won't be able to live with myself if I don't at least say something." 

There is suddenly something very different about the officer, a look and a tone that seems foreign coming from him. You smile softly as you realize he is being shy and vulnerable in this moment.

"I have not stopped thinking about you since the traffic stop. I can't get you out of my head. I almost can't believe I got to see you again tonight, and the thought of not seeing you again is too much to bear..."

Aaron has never been great with emotions, voicing them out is certainly not his greatest strength. He feels silly and pathetic standing here talking about his feelings. He was raised in a generation that taught boys to be ‘men’, to toughen up and bite it down, always.

"Oh, Aaron," you sigh and look up at him dreamily. "You are so sweet and such a perfect gentleman. I am flattered to have taken up so much space in your mind. If it helps, the man I was with is my uncle, I'm- I'm not seeing anybody right now." You add the last part rather sheepishly and shift your eyes to the ground near his shoes.

Aaron can feel his lungs inflate once again, as he smiles up at the sky, filled with gratitude, "yes, yes Y/N, that helps a lot." 

He reaches out for your hand and gestures towards the wedding.

"May I have this dance, Ma'am?" 

"Yes sir"

As he graces the dance floor with you, Aaron can’t help but think that the stars have aligned for this magical moment to be his reality. He worries about going to sleep tonight, afraid he might wake up to find it was all a dream. But for now, he loses himself in this beautiful moment with you, cherishing you and your smile.

[possibly-a-table-or-just-gay]

You'll Be Okay Kid, I Swear

Darius barely lifted his gaze enough to see that it was not in fact some insufferable fellow teacher teetering at the threshold to his room but a student, although not one of his own. He recognised him though, the mop of blond hair and black face mask not quite clicking into place until he saw the shiny silver badge pinned to his shirt.

Head boy. That was it.

"Can I help you?" Darius drawled out, his disinterest evident in his tone.

"Um. Well, uh, I can't do this French assignment and Luz has you for Spanish and she told me to come to you-"

(Human Au where legendary lawyer turned French and Spanish teacher Darius Deamonne (no he doesn't know how he made that career change either) becomes attached to a blond traumatised student who is absolutely awful at languages.)

---------------------------------

I wrote most of this in one sitting after reading Mon Horrible Chéri by ghostrat on ao3 and getting really attached to the idea of a teacher Au, so here we are!!!

I have ideas for more chapters, but right now this is all I got. Hope you enjoy!!

----------------------------------

Darius's head was pounding, the scratch of his pen ticking, circling and underlining never-ending lines of I woke up, I brushed my teeth, I ate my breakfast  not aiding his headache in the slightest. His fault for assigning three paragraphs from every student, he supposed.

A hesitant knock on his classroom door sent his train of thought grinding to a halt, being replaced with a haphazard tornado of insults for whatever colleague thought it appropriate to bother him after hours.

"You can come in."

Darius barely lifted his gaze enough to see that it was not in fact some insufferable fellow teacher teetering at the threshold to his room but a student, although not one of his own. He recognised him though, the mop of blond hair and black face mask not quite clicking into place until he saw the shiny silver badge pinned to his shirt. Head boy. That was it.

"Can I help you?" Darius drawled out, his disinterest evident in his tone.

"Um. Well, uh, I can't do this French assignment and Luz has you for Spanish and she told me to come to you-"

Ah yes. Luz Noceda, 2C, third row. He liked her mother, the woman knew how to pick a good bottle of wine (he thought fondly of the bottle of Pinot Noir he received after Luz got a perfect exam result last Christmas).

Darius refocused his attention back to the student in front of him, and the well thumbed sheet of paper in his hands.

"I'm not a tutor."

The boy's face dropped as he began fidgeting with the corners of the page.

"Right. Yes, I know that, it's just- well if I fail another foreign language exam I can't be Head Boy anymore a-and if I lose my position my uncle-"

Darius noted the way the kid picked at the seams of his jumper, his face ashen with dread in a manner he had seen many times before in his students the morning of exams, although this kid in particular looked like he might crumble into a thousand pieces at the drop of a pin. He was studying the floor as though if he looked hard enough, it would swallow him whole.

Christ almighty. He sighed, shuffling the pages off the table and held out a hand expectantly. He wasn't going to finish grading all of those now anyway.

The kid shifted his gaze to Darius's outstretched arm, staring at it like a deer in headlights for perhaps a second too long before snapping out of it and handing him the assignment.

Darius examined the paper for a second, immediately recognising Mrs Hallsted's illegible handwriting. The old bat still hadn't figured out the printer, instead continuing writing out 20 worksheets by hand.

Beneath the other French teacher's scrawled instructions, it was clear the student had written, crossed out and rewritten his answers about fifty times, explaining the paper's condition and rendering it unusable.

Pulling out a fresh sheet from a drawer in his desk, Darius picked up his pen and began writing the assignment title and date in impeccable cursive, pausing for a second when he remembered he had forgotten a rather crucial detail.

"What's your name?

"Hunter."

Darius resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Hunter what?"

"Oh, uh, Hunter Wittebane."

Wittebane. Hm. The name was familiar, and not from the boy it was attached to. No, Darius felt like he had heard that name before, in a past life. He shrugged it off, adding Hunter Wittebane to the top of the page.

"Right, so this all looks fairly manageable, if a bit cryptic. Where are you getting caught?"

Hunter leaned over the desk, his brow furrowing as he attempted to read the paper upside-down. Darius waved a hand over his shoulder, indicating for Hunter to move behind the desk. He followed suit, pointing hesitantly at the first question, the letters barely distinguishable from eachother in Mrs Hallsted's poor penmanship.

"I didn't know how to format the answer."

Clicking his tongue, Darius rewrote the question again, explaining as he went.

"So since the question is asking for an account, you can leave out the name, date, address etc," he began, tapping a crossed out scribble on Hunter's page with the end of his pen. "What you'll need to start with is a general statement, remember you're trying to show off your ability to understand tone as well as your grasp on the language."

Hunter nodded, taking it all in as Darius described the difference between formal and informal vocabulary in clear detail.

"You should be able to figure this all out with a good set of notes, Mrs Hallsted did give you some, right?"

"Yes, she did, I don't really understand them though."

Darius nodded, reaching into his desk drawer to retrieve a fresh set of notes. Pulling out a highlighter, he gestured for Hunter's attention and started marking out sections of text.

"This is all stuff I recommend just rote learning, it's not ideal but you're better off just having it memorised. Here," Darius continued, circling a title in purple highlighter, "are the grammatical rules, and the exceptions which again, I would just learn off."

He noticed Hunter nodding along in the corner of his eye, his eyes gleaming with new-found understanding. The clear explanations were definitely doing something for his demeanour, his fingertips tapping on the desk in excitement rather than anxiety.

"These are just examples of formats, and here's just a worksheet if you need it when you're studying. The front is all short refresher questions and the back has the complicated stuff that needs lengthy answers," Darius finished, stapling the pages together and handing them to Hunter with a flourish. "Is that okay?"

Taking the notes from his hands, Hunter did one last flick through before nodding again, his thank you muffled by the face mask.

Darius waved him out, satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Oh and Hunter?"

The student in question paused in the doorway, eyebrow raised in confusion.

"Tell me how you got on, when you get the chance?"

Hunter's expression changed, a lopsided smile forming under his mask from the way his eyes crinkled. He gave one last awkward wave before disappearing into the hall, leaving Darius to the pile of papers on his desk, which he was debating putting off just one more day.

--------------------------------

:DDDDD

Take none of the advice I wrote here to heart by the way, I made all of it up on the spot.

This was mostly written to lament about my hatred for French and unclear instructions but instead now we have my first ever published Dadrius fic!!!!!

If you liked it please let me know, I am but a simple lad that needs constant attention or I explode/j

---------------------------------

[yveaart]

i knew you were trouble

jungwon x reader

genre : fluff, enemies to lovers (kind of), jungwon bad boy typa guy, fluff, college au.

synopsis : you knew who he was, yet you still allowed yourself to be drifted right onto him by his charisma, but he felt so much more.

warnings : possible chance of reader throwing their phones😁...

it was yet another day, walking around the campus just right before your first lecture. sitting on the bench nearby mainly because the the campus is huge and you had to walk everywhere.

and there he was, yang jungwon. he was barely early so it was slightly surprising, he was going to school early these days.

he had a huge reputation, he wasn't just popular for his looks and his sports activities. but he was also favored by professors for his intellect and family status. and as to local girl information he had a lot of pst relationship.

it will either be the girl got really obsessed with him or he got a small crush, at least he wasn't heartless at all. but you knew more, you knew he was trouble.

you shouldn't be starting to develop feelings. so the best thing to resort is to walk away and ignore. like you are right now, avoiding his presence.

you wouldn't know but at that moment he stared at your figure walk away. class started soon as you sat on the third row.

and there he was yet again entering the room scanning the room as he always do, the other girls gushing, the others not really caring, and you rather look like the last one.

you sat silently starting to resume the book you were reading, the seat next to you shifted— you were fucked.

you ignored everything that could relate to him, it was hard especially when he was beside you, every pen drop, fake coughs and chair shiftings.

and alas after an hour you survived. not until you went out and had an embarrassing length of eye contact with him.

you just scoffed and walked away. this was not the way to go.

you attended your classes for the rest of the morning, and finally sprinting to the park benches where you and your best friends always had lunch.

"oh my fucking god, its like he's everywhere, and it makes me think he's following me but his face actually pops out from nowhere and its making me DELUSIONAL!" you screamed at your friend as you dropped your bag beside the leg of the table.

"mygod slow down.." nayeon muttered with her mouth full.

"make a move already im bored" yuna said stabbing the sushi and eating it.

"its not that easy" you whined lying your head on the table. "are you even aware of who we are talking about? the yang jungwon, a womanizer"

"then why do you like him if you knew that he got with a lot of people" nayeon said scrolling through her phone now.

"this is not helping" you cried opening the lunch box your friends bought you.

it got even worse when he indeed was about to pass through your table, he never goes here, what's the reason now?

you continued to eat keeping your cool, there was no way he would go there to your table.... your luck has ran out.

"hey do you guys have notes for biology that i could borrow?" he asked, you could feel his figure looming above you.

"uhm i think y/n has some, me and yuna doesn't attend biology" nayeon replied. you looked up seeing him facing you.

"i dont take notes" you said a little too blunt.

"oh." it took him a few seconds until he walked away.

"what was that for? are you DUMB??" yuna exclaimed. it was indeed strange to just turn down someone like that quite harsh.

"i'm practicing self control" thanking yourself in the process of hopelessly falling into a pit of emotions towards him.

"guys theres a party in jay's penthouse tomorrow night, we should go" nayeon suggested.

"it's friday why not" you shrugged. packing up to leave for your afternoon classes.

friday.

you once again walked through the halls with tall pillars, people scurrying to study for their finals, but one unnatural sight was held right in front of the campus.

jungwon's group themselves handing out papers to girls. you wanted to know what it was, probably a school event?

you finally walked close enough to them sneaking at the bold letters which said "the official girlfriend application" and you wouldn't miss the litte text below it "for lee heeseung"

it was for the oldest member of the group, now you see the pattern of people they're handing it out too, for seniors but who looks like would fit him, they were also hand out to some lower levels but that was mostly it.

you were about to pass not wanting to miss your class until a sheet of paper was closely shoved to your face stopping you from getting away.

an arm holding "it" out to your face, it was jake sim's, holding it out to you with a smile.

you were actually considering of taking it, but you were seconds too late to react, when you faced jake he was beside jungwon who quickly took it from his hands.

"hey man what was that for" his accent strongly used. you were quick to get of the trance hurrying to your class' door.

all you could think of whole day long was getting out somewhere and have a environmental reset, you needed a change of place— environment, it would be therapeutic and will recharge your social battery and your energy.

when dismissal was granted you were quickly out the door rushing to your dorm, needing a long long nap.

as you did it went from 5 pm to 7 in a matter of your blackout. not to mention how you are violently shook by your friend/ roommate who will soon end up six feet under when you figure out this unacceptable ptable disturbance to your precious sleep.

"what?" you said as your other eye still closed being tubbed by your hand for the adjustment of light.

"THE PARTY??" yuna stated with a "duh?" voice.

"oh right. that was today..." you said trailing off thinking wether you should give in to sleep or socialize.

"HEY??" yuna exclaimed.

"fine give me 10 minutes" and as short of a period of time that sounds.... you really did not finish in it. took you at least 20 more minutes to pick an outfit.

you took a cab easily reaching a tall building. you went in the elevator took you to the highest floor.

you opened the door easily welcomed with a big interior and a shit-ton of people. as you gaze through out the place you had two thoughts that came in mind; a. date jay , b. rob him. and there was a very thin line between those two.

you sat at the kitchen counter tapping your fingers upon the marble sucking a breath realizing your friend won't be reuniting with you anytime soon.

you stood up and opened the glossy noir fridge, taking one of the sodas as you sat down on your previous seat.

"not a fan of party punches huh?" a voice approached you. looking over it was heeseung smiling. he sat down settling beside you.

"i dont really know what's in it so i cant trust it" you chuckled answering him.

"well for some people it's exciting" he chuckled, silence slowly filling in, you had company.

"so do you want to dance with me?" he smiled at you, he was very charming, but you could notice that he was hiding his timidness and with alcohol courage.

but that wasn't the point... should you go dance with him?

"i-" you were cut off by a person shoving a cup into the table between you and heeseung.

"would you like to go and dance with me?" jungwon asked.

confusion struck over you, you felt the need to go. something deep within you sparked acknowledging how he asked you, was he jealous?

"uhm i think i have to go find my friends first" you chuckled in a troubled note.

you stood off your chair, it was moments like this that makes you want to stay and give in. you were so dazed lost on how he charms you.

—

after 15 minutes and 9 laps all around the penthouse your friends weren't in sight. you sighed deciding that you should just go home.

you took your coat and purse exciting the chaos of the wild crowd. walking out you finally had a whiff of clean air thats not polluted with sweat and alcohol.

you headed to the elevator while looking for your phone on your purse, a light click was heard. you dropped the keys for your dorm.

you picked it up noticing a pair of feet displayed in front of you. you looked up and once again as if fate laced you two together, he stood in front of you.

"d-did i say something wrong?" he said, he looked upset.

"what?" you asked confused.

"well, for one you walked out on me when i asked you for a dance"

"oh, i really just had to find my friends you know?" you said trying to make the mood light.

"no, i don't know , i'm not the most patient person... so why are you turning down my every move on you?" he said confused.

"you-?"

"i like you, i know i don't have the best dating history, but i've stopped for these past few months because—" he said pausing.

"i know the type of person you are and i wanna change for you.." he stated.

you stood up shocked. you opened your mouth forcing out something but all that left was air, soon closing your mouth you were speechless.

"do you perhaps don't like me? do you hate me?" he questioned with a hurt look.

it takes more than words.

you leaped over to his figure securing your arms around his neck kissing him. he was frozen, soon giggling into the kiss as he reciprocated the affection.

he placed his arms on your waist dragging your figure to the door opposite of the huge party, not accepting a second of relief in accepting air.

he quickly placed your back softly on the wall as he shifts his lips to kiss you better, wishing you would both collide.

you place your hand on his chest finally breathing heavily.

your eyes met as you both broke into small giggles, adoration.

"i belong with you" he proudly said.

— end —

after weeks of procrastinating to finish this i have finally posted it😭 requests and asks now open !

[myers-meadow]

Could I ask for Haarlep falling for Tav. Like how does the incubus' thought process slide from 'This is just another mortal' to 'Oh, hey I like this person' to 'I really like this person' to 'By the Nine Circles, I am in love'? I can just picture the incubus puzzle over it in their mind after being drop-kicked by that last realization. Either that or just having an 'Oh' or 'Oh 💩' moment of realization.

Please, I'm begging you for this!

It's all in the quality time, I think!

You find yourself visiting Haarlep more and more frequently, and then you stay for longer after the carnalities, and before you know it, youre having a slow Sunday morning breakfast in bed, and it's the third night in a row you spent there, without either of you realising how quick the time passed...

I like to think the realisation could happen after one of those sleepovers. One night turns into two, two into three, three into the whole week - and after, he feels more than just bored. There's an absence now. He leaves space for you in the bed, he dislikes silences that you're not there to fill.

He can't seem to hold himself back from sending you letters, to ask for your company. He starts luring you with promises outside of sex - he's still a tempting fiend at heart, of course. If he has your form, you bet you know how much he enjoys being in your shape. That's a way of seeking the connection between the two of you, even while you're far apart.

When he looks to the future, of his schemes, his ambitions, his plans; suddenly you're a part of it too. Wherever he plans to go, he builds a space for you in that plan. To make sure you're safe, at the very least; or to explore how far his ambitions can go along side you, if you're so inclined.

Even if you may not notice, since the shift is so gradual, one morning, you'll wake up in his arms, and think back to how it all started, and you'll see just how much warmth and consideration there is between the two of you. <3

xoxo Meadow

[beanxiv]

admonish ; izuku midoriya ✩࿐

summary: izuku always puts himself last, and needs a good chewing out for it!

word count: 1.4k

warnings: aged up, swearing, mentions of injury, mentions of blood, mentions of marriage

it was the third time this week that izuku had come home with some kind of injury.

it's not like you expected him to be completely hale every time he came back from patrol, but really it was the third time this week! in a row! and he didn't even go to a hospital or anything, he'd just messily tend to the wound himself with some bandages from the first aid kit in the bottom drawer of his office desk or something and head home.

the worst part? today he was off-duty and happened to see some villains in the act while on his way home from his morning jog. so he wasn't even in his hero garb nor did he have any gear on-hand.

naturally though, each time he came back with an injury you'd be quick to properly treat it (unless it was something major, but fortunately your boyfriend was smart enough to check with an actual doctor if the injury was that bad). but if the injury wasn't bad enough to be in dire need of a professional doctor, then izuku figured he'd be fine to rush home to see you.

and of course he'd protest the whole time, telling you not to worry about it, and he'll get it checked out after dinner, and blah, blah, blah.

you didn't let him get three steps past the front door without dragging him to your shared bathroom to appropriately tend to his wounds.

this particular injury wasn't as bad as usual, but you forced him into the bathroom nonetheless.

"baby, i promise it's fine! it's just a little cut, don't worry, please."

"izuku, i don't care if it's a papercut, i'm still going to treat it."

oh, and i forgot to mention.

it isn't "just a little cut," it's a three inch long gash down his rib cage. the cut isn't deep, at least not deep enough for the need of stitches or anything dire enough for expert help.

"sit," you nodded to the counter and your boyfriend sighed at your obstinacy, but obeyed nonetheless.

he had grown since his first year of high school; a good 17 cm since then (about 5-6 inches). now standing at 183 cm or so (like 6'), he was taller and a lot better built.

so when he sat down on the bathroom counter he was taller than you, and when you told him to remove his shirt you couldn't help but mumble a curse under your breath.

"oh. shit..."

not because you were squeamish of the gash or anything, no. but because of your boyfriend's godly physique.

of course, being the observant top hero he is, izuku notices this and fails to conceal his smile. you ignore his expression and dig around the bathroom drawers for the kit you'd supplied just for izuku's proneness to injury.

"last time you put it in the cabinet, not the drawer," izuku says, trying to help. he's sitting on the counter with his shirt in his lap, he'd folded the bloodstained, now ragged piece of cloth as if that helped. it'll just be thrown away anyway. its state is beyond washing or sewing.

"thanks," you close the draw and duck to check the cabinet below the bathroom counter. and, lo and behold, there sits the big make-shift first aid kit you'd pulled together specifically for your boyfriend.

you set the container on the counter next to izuku and wash your hands. after drying your hands, you grab a clean towel from the drawer to run under the tap water. when the towel's damp enough you press it to izuku's gash, cleaning the wound while looking up to his face for any hints of discomfort. when he doesn't seem too bothered or pained, you dig around the first-aid kit for an antibiotic cream you'd recently bought.

once you find it you don't waste any time unscrewing the cap and smearing some on izuku's rib, rubbing it into the wound. when izuku hisses, cringing away from your fingers you look up at him with a a scolding look.

"what?" he frowns at the glare directed at him.

"if the cream hurts then i'm sure it hurt worse to get this little cut, didn't it?" you reply, quoting his earlier words.

izuku pouts, "that's not fair."

you soften, "yeah, yeah. i know, it's your 'job and passion'."

izuku smiles until you continue speaking, then his smile deflates into a sigh.

"but izuku, you can't keep doing this-- getting 'little' injuries every time you patrol i mean-- because little is going to turn into medium, and that'll turn into big, and big'll turn into major. and who knows what kind of shit you'll get into then. hell, you weren't even patrolling today! i'm not saying you should've left the villains continue, but at least call for backup before throwing yourself at every battle." you pause for a breath, "you know, if i get gray hairs before we're married, you'll have to pay for someone to photoshop them out of our pictures."

izuku's mouth dropped open slightly at your last statement, forgetting the rest of your condemnation. "married..?"

you smile playfully, wiping the excess cream off of your hand and screwing the antibiotic tube's cap back on. "what, are you planning on marrying someone else, then?"

izuku almost slips off the counter, "no, no, no!! i just..." he looks down at his bloodied shirt, smiling. "i'm glad you want to do this forever."

"what? tend to your wounds?"

"no-- well, yes, but no. i mean this" he gestures between the two of you bashfully like you're freshly in a middle school relationship. "be together, married." he says the last word with a blush crawling onto his cheeks, making his freckles more prominent.

"of course i want to marry you, izuku." you say this like it's obvious-- which it is. rising on your toes you press a kiss to izuku's forehead, before lightly flicking him on the same spot right after.

he looks betrayed when you do so, bring a hand up to rub the spot, "ow... what was that for? i thought we were having a nice moment."

"we were. but that doesn't mean you're off the hook." you smile to yourself triumphantly as you pull out a roll of bandages from the container.

izuku frowns as if he was hoping you'd forgotten about his current position. though he does look genuinely penitent about worrying you, "i'm sorry, baby..."

you wrap the bandage around his torso, making sure it was snug against his wound, and wouldn't loosen. once you finish you look up at izuku admonishingly, "i know you're sorry, but that doesn't mean it won't happen again; which is okay, you're a hero-- it's your job. just don't be so self-sacrificing, okay?"

he nods and you smile, "either way, i'll always be here to be your personal doctor."

izuku smiles back, freckles touching the laugh lines of his eyes. he pulls you in by your waist, previous bashfulness long forgotten. "and for the record, (y/n), whether or not you have gray hairs, you'll still look amazing to me. in my eyes, there's nothing more beautiful than you, love."

you playfully roll your eyes, though touched by his words. "that's sweet an' all, but now you're just admitting that you'll probably give me gray hairs."

izuku falters at that, "uh no..?"

"it's okay though, i'll suffer through gray hairs for you, my love," you tell izuku dramatically, leaning against his bare, freckled chest.

it's izuku's turn to roll his eyes now, but he holds you tight and warm against his body. "babe, there's villains wreaking havoc and you're worried about gray hairs."

"hey, don't change the subject. i'm the one scolding you, not the other way around." you jest.

"okay, baby," izuku chuckles a bit and grins, and that's all he says. maybe your lectures take up a lot of time, and you were always mad at izuku during them, but you scolded your boyfriend because you loved him, and that was evident in the way you admonished him. izuku isn't a masochist--far from it-- but maybe he doesn't mind getting yelled at if you're the one reprimanding him.

© beanxiv — all rights reserved. copying, reposting, translating, and modifying in any platform or by any means is not allowed.

[btswrckd]

Secrets and Lies

Mafia member!Namjoon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Part of the War of Hearts universe! You've spent the last 10 years not really knowing just who your best and only friend actually is or just obsessed he is with you, but when an unexpected threat emerges from your mother's past, he's given an opportunity that he just can't pass up.

Warnings: mentions of violence, mentions of guns and other weapons, mention of death, mention of obsessive behavior, Namjoon's kind of a prick to an old one-night stand

A/N: Ta-da!! It's here!! I'm sure there's more warnings I missed and I'm sorry!! As you guys may know, I've been working on 3 separate fics for the War of Hearts verse and I'm still working on them, but I wasn't sure whose story I wanted to put out first. As I'm bouncing back and forth between the stories, I've finally figured out the order in which I want to put them out. Please enjoy guys!

“Are you going to tell me what, exactly, we’re doing here?” Hoseok yawns from the passenger seat of Namjoon’s sleek black Hyundai. Why Namjoon thought of such a car as “inconspicuous”, Hoseok will never know. Honestly, he was pretty pissed that Namjoon had dragged him out of the house at 4 o’clock in the morning to watch random people come and go from some 24 hour diner that sits just before entering city limits. But when the door opens for the hundredth time and a pile of messy hair sitting in a bun atop the head of a beautiful girl comes bouncing out, he rolls his eyes. Now he knows what the hell they were waiting around for. 

“Seriously, Namjoon,” Hoseok groans and burrows into the heated seat. “Can’t you stalk your girlfriend without me?”

“Shut up,” Namjoon hisses at him. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“But you are stalking her, correct?” 

“Hobi,” Namjoon warns again, “shut the fuck up.”

He doesn’t hear whatever it is that Hoseok mumbles under his breath, simply shaking his head and turning his attention back to the waitress who’d just finished a 12 hour shift. Without the top of a messy bun flouncing about, he’d have lost you in the mass of cars you were weaving through. You look tired, he notes, exhausted as you slump against the driver door of the beat up old car that you’d been saving up for. He never liked when you took the bus; too many strange men would look your way far too long for his liking. But he didn’t think a car like that would suffice either, even though it meant tracking you was a little easier. 

Your head thumps against the steel door of the small car you’d salvaged from a junkyard. “Still,” you remind yourself, “a junker car is better than no car at all. Definitely smells better than the bus.” It was the third 12 hour shift you’ve worked in a row and still had another 3 to go. To say you were exhausted would be putting it lightly. You’re worn out, both physically and mentally, but you have to keep going. Have to keep making money. Have to pay off the medical bills that only seem to keep racking up. The sound of an obnoxious ringtone blares in the dark parking lot and you jump in place as you recognize it as your own. 

“Shit,” you hiss, fumbling for your cell phone only to find the caller I.D. belonging to none other than your ex-boyfriend. It’s not that you’re ungrateful for him taking on the task of being your mother’s caretaker, it’s that you wish he’d stop trying to use her dwindling health as an excuse to try and get back together. “Minseok,” you answer, vexed. “What is it?”

“Good morning to you too, sunshine,” Minseok snaps back, taking a deep breath to steady himself. After all, catching an attitude with you when he’s trying so hard to get you back is not going to earn him any brownie points. “Hey, so, you just got off work right? Why don’t you stop by and we can have breakfast? Your mom’s been asking to see you.”

“In time,” is all you can say. It’s all you’ve been saying since you were a teenager. Your mother is all you have left and to keep blowing off chances to visit her breaks your heart a little more each time. You love her so much, but the thought of seeing the frail body in place of what once was a strong and healthy woman makes you want to cry. You don’t know how long she has left or why you keep avoiding her, knowing damn well that she’ll be gone soon. You only know that distracting yourself with work doesn’t make you feel as helpless as sitting at home waiting for the inevitable phone call. Minseok is babbling about something, but you don’t catch what it is when the sound of approaching footsteps has you reaching for the pepper spray attached to your key ring. 

Namjoon is amused when you whirl around, pepper spray at the ready even if it is with a shaking grip. He laughs as your shocked face morphs to one of anger and embarrassment. Clearly, you hadn’t expected to be snuck up on in the middle of the parking lot of your job, and that makes him uneasy. You should always be aware of your surroundings. “What are you doing with that, you nut case?”

“Shut the hell up, Joon!” You kick at the loose rocks on the pavement, sending them flying in his direction. “You scared the crap out of me, asshole. What are you doing lurking around a dark parking lot anyways?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” He tilts his head playfully, though there’s no hint of amusement in his tone anymore. You should have gotten in your car and left a long time ago, yet something or someone, namely Minseok, kept you from doing so. He recognized the look on your face when you’d looked at the phone screen. Even from across the lot, he knew who was stupid enough to bother you after a long week of working. With a roll of his eyes, he takes the phone from your hand and ignores your protests.

“Minseok,” he says into the phone, skillfully dodging your attempts to pry it away from him. “How are you?”

“I’m uh,” Minseok sputters, “good. I’m good, I guess. What are you um, what are you doing with Y/N?”

“Me? Oh, nothing really. Just came to pick her up from work. Yeah, she finally scrapped that heap of junk and decided to ride in style. With me. Goodbye, Minseok.” Namjoon ends the call, carelessly tossing the phone back into your waiting hands. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his slacks, he nods down at you. “Heading home?”

“Trying to.” You prop a hand on your hip and he groans because he knows exactly what’s about to come. “You know I hate it when you do that. Getting under Minseok’s skin does absolutely nothing for you, so why do you do it? And you know he’s the primary caretaker for my mom. Stop trying to piss him off.”

“You never get after him when he pisses me off,” he points out. It was never a secret how much he despised Minseok, especially when you dated that little prick. Nothing makes Namjoon’s blood boil more than the image of Minseok taking you on dates, holding your hand, kissing your skin, touching you wherever he pleased and you allowed. “Anyways, I wasn’t trying to get under his skin. If he feels threatened by me then it’s not really my fault. And what the hell is he still doing taking care of your mom? Isn’t that a conflict of interest?”

“Not everyone at the rehab center knows we dated,” you explain, missing the flash of anger in his eyes. “He’s the only one that mom trusts.”

“You know I can take care of her too.” He braces his large palms against the car door, trapping you between the metal and his body. “I’ve offered a thousand times, Y/N, you always say no.”

“I’ve burdened you enough.” 

Namjoon sees the brief downward tilt of your lips, a frown you try so hard to hide from him. He won’t have it. Tucking his finger beneath your chin, he tilts it up to look you in the eye. “You’re not a burden. Neither is your mother. I’ve told you before that all you have to do is ask and I’ll give you anything you want, Y/N.”

“I just want her to be better,” you whisper, casting your eyes to the floor as they flood with tears. There’s no doubt in your mind that if you were to ask Namjoon for private care, he would gladly take care of it without expecting anything in return. That’s how it’s always been with him though. Always giving but never taking. According to his close friend, Hoseok, that’s how Namjoon’s grown up. You’re not entirely sure what his home life was like when he was a child, but his parents seemed to have done a wonderful job raising him. You can’t honestly say you’ve ever met anyone like him in all your 28 years of life. 

Namjoon’s finger becomes firm in making your eyes meet his once more. His mouth tightens into a thin line and you know he’s trying to hold back his frustration. When he met you in the hallway at the hospital nearly 10 years ago, you’d just learned of your mother’s diagnosis. To say you were distraught would be sugarcoating it. You were absolutely devastated. He remembers how 18-year-old you had slid down the wall with body wracking sobs, but you’d tried to hide it as your mother was just a few feet behind a closed door. You had wailed into your knees after drawing them as close to your body as possible. He had just rounded the corner of the hall, hissing into his phone about the absolute fucking disaster that was Hoseok’s assignment, when he’d seen you and he felt like time had slowed. Something about you, about the heart wrenching way your body curled up that made him feel…protective. It was his job to protect Taehyung, sure, but you were an entirely different story. You had nothing to offer him. No kind of incentive for his comfort. And yet, when he’d walked over and reached out his hand, you’d taken it. Taken it so damn easily and allowed yourself to be comforted by a complete stranger. It was always a mystery to him, how you’d melted into his body without noticing the blood staining his white dress shirt.

“Joon?” your voice cuts through the hazy fog that was his trip down memory lane. Blinking back your tears, you cup his face to bring him back to reality. It hadn’t taken you long to figure out that when Namjoon spaced out, it took a great deal to bring him back. But not with you. Never with you. Because, somehow, your voice and touch, and yours alone could bring him back in a matter of seconds. When his brown eyes finally clear, you smile softly at him.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” he says, taking your wrists in his large hands and running his thumbs along the veins of them. A smirk plays on his lips when he notices you shiver. Not from the cold, but from him. “I’m supposed to be the one comforting you. Not the other way around. What was it that Minseok wanted anyway?”

“To have dinner. Or breakfast. Or, I don’t really know, but I know it had to do with eating in the same vicinity as each other,” you sigh and slump against the cool metal of your car. “I’m not exactly up for it, but I guess I should go. He says mom’s been asking for me, but I–.”

“What an asshole,” comes a familiar voice. One you aren’t exactly expecting, so when you jump, Hoseok’s deep chuckle cuts through the parking lot. You always wondered how he managed to stalk around without making a single noise. You feel Namjoon tense and tighten his hold on your wrists. 

The taller man turns to his friend with a snarl on his face. “A little warning next time, jackass.” 

Hoseok shrugs and purses his lips in an innocent way that makes you giggle. A grin splits his face as Namjoon scowls at him for being able to make you laugh when he himself couldn’t. “It’s late. Or early. Or fucking…whatever. Can we just go now? We kind of have someplace to be, you know.” 

And by someplace, Hoseok means waiting outside of Choi Hyunwoo’s apartment to grab his ass and get back to Taehyung. He quirks his brow up at Namjoon, rolling his eyes when Namjoon ignores him to face you. He turns his back to give you guys some privacy, but fuck if he’ll stand there all day watching Namjoon make goo goo eyes at you. 

“Don’t let Minseok guilt you into seeing him,” Namjoon says, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “I understand that you feel it over not seeing your mother as often as you think you should. It’s why I’m more than happy to set her up with private home care. That way you can also cut down on your part time jobs. They’re wearing you down.”

“Real charming, Joon,” you snort and shove him away. “But you know I can’t take you up on that offer. It wouldn’t feel right if I couldn’t at least help you pay for her care.”

“Then, for the time being,” he says through grit teeth, “at least let me stave off Minseok.” He’s quick to wrap his arms around your waist and haul your chest to his. Your squeak of surprise makes him chuckle and you blush. “Hobi, do me a favor. Take a picture of this.”

You don’t have time to question what the hell he was talking about because he winds his fingers through your hair, tilts your face up, and pretends to slants his lips against yours. You inhale sharply at the contact, fingers digging into his jacket in a death grip, and oddly, found it far too easy to lean into his faux kiss. Your eyes meet the intensity of his brown orbs, bouncing back and forth as if searching for something. Reason, perhaps? Or signs of insanity. Because why the hell else would Namjoon go to such lengths just to get Minseok off your back? 

Namjoon’s gaze deepens, his pupils dilating from the proximity. He can’t seem to remember that it was meant to be fake. He was meant to look like he was kissing you, not actually doing it. But he’d be lying if he told himself he didn’t want to know what your chapstick tastes like. If it’s the usual, nauseating taste. Or if this is one of the rare times you’d reached for the strawberry flavored lip balm. He almost chuckles as he imagines you rummaging through your bedside drawer and plucking your least favorite flavor in your haste to get to work on time. He always tells you to toss the hated flavor in the trash, but you, for whatever reason, never do. Apparently, you only keep it in “just in case” situations. Situations such as running late for work and not having the time to turn your apartment upside down in search of the usual, worn down tube of chapstick. 

Distantly, you recognize the faint sound of a cell phone camera going off, but when Namjoon sweeps the pad of his thumb along your bottom lip, your thighs clench together as the feel of the roughly callused finger sets your body on fire. It’s such a simple gesture and yet, you find yourself unable to catch your breath. When he pulls on your lip as he traces a path down to grip your chin, you rise to the tips of your toes in anticipation. You’re far too ready to kiss him, and a part of you panics when a deep chuckle rumbles in his chest. You flush, embarrassed to have been caught leaning into his touch so shamelessly. You consider punching him as you usually do when he manages to fluster you, but then he presses in further, his own plump lips skimming across your mouth in an almost kiss that has you panting with need. Your eyelids become heavy and they close as pure, unadulterated desire pounds deep in your bones and your fingers card through his soft hair. You feel him shiver against the feel of your nails gently scratching the hair at the nape of his neck. 

Namjoon knows he has to gain control of the situation soon. It was spiraling, and quickly, and he was more than willing to allow it to happen. But he doesn’t want the first of many kisses to come, be one that stems from him trying to piss off your ex-boyfriend. Because there will be more to come. He will taste you properly and he will continue to do so until you say otherwise. You, and only you, have the kind of control over him that no one ever has. Not even Taehyung. 

“Namjoon,” you whisper and you swear an actual groan leaves his mouth because your lips bump against his as you speak. “Please,” you beg even though you’re sure this is an entirely bad idea. Heat pools in your lower belly as you press up against him, his thigh slotting between the apex of your legs, a noise of excitement leaving your throat as he leans in.

“I’m only going to stand here for so long to watch you guys pretend to swap spit,” Hoseok comments in irritation. “It’s hot, sure, but we’ve got more important things to do, Namjoon.”

When Namjoon parts from you, the both of you are panting, breaths mingling in the cold night air. His hand moves from the nape of your neck to slide down along the line of your jaw. His thumb sweeps across your cheek softly and he takes his time to look over your flushed face and heaving chest. Your eyes are still closed, making his chest swell with pride when one shift of his body makes your fingers tighten in his hair. 

You don’t even notice you’ve done it, not until you finally open your eyes to find that you are the one keeping him in place. Quickly, you release him and try to create some distance, but you only bump into your car door. You want to be angry with him. You want to question what the hell he was thinking. But most of all, you want to understand why it didn’t bother you nearly as much as you thought it would. You’d known him since you were 18 and never once had it crossed your mind that he’d ever find you attractive. The same couldn’t be said for you, though, because you’d always harbored a small crush on him. You’d thought dating Minseok would quell that ache for Namjoon’s attention, but it really didn’t and you kind of felt bad when a small part of you wondered what Namjoon’s hand would feel like in place of Minseok’s on your skin. 

“Send this to him,” Namjoon’s deep voice startles you while he holds out Hoseok’s phone. He watches, amused, as you stare at the picture on the phone. He can see your mind working in overtime as you process the seemingly loving embrace Hoseok managed to capture. “Minseok’s always thought you and I were together at some point, or even hooked up, so it’s not that odd to see us like this.”

“No, you can’t!” you squeak and try to snatch the phone from his hand. That attempt fails as he easily maneuvers out of reach. “Don’t send that, Namjoon!”

Hoseok snatches the phone from Namjoon’s hand and stalks off back to the car. He’s mumbling something under his breath that you can’t make sense of and slams the car door once he’s inside. Sinking down into the seat, he leans his head against the window to rest comfortably in hopes of getting some sleep. 

“I have to go.” Namjoon sounds reluctant to leave as he steps away. He knows Hoseok already sent the picture to Minseok so there was no backing out now. In fact, Minseok should be calling you any second and he wishes he could stick around for that conversation, but Hoseok was right. If he didn’t leave now, then they’d miss Hyunwoo and the last thing they need is Taehyung tearing into them for screwing up. “Minseok will be calling soon. Ignore it, go home, get some sleep. I’ll check on you later.”

“But, I–.” you try to protest as he walks off and right on cue, your phone rings with irritating familiarity. “Damn it.”

-----------------------------------------------------------

“Why are you fucking with your own feelings just to piss off Minseok?” Hoseok questions Namjoon on the ride back home. He pays no mind to the muffled groaning coming from Hyunwoo lying on the floor of the van they’d swapped into later that morning. “It’s only going to get worse from here now. You know that, right?”

“Shut up,” Namjoon grumbles from the driver seat. He can’t say Hoseok’s wrong, he hardly ever is, but Namjoon isn’t willing to admit that. His grip on the steering wheel tightens as the memory of your lips and your touch, it all comes to the forefront of his mind and makes his chest tight. He had hoped that you did as he said and went home to get some sleep, but one quick peek at your Snapchat story revealed a breakfast plate filled with eggs and toast smothered in strawberry jam. Your mother’s favorite.

“You’re still pissed off that she went to breakfast with Minseok?”

“She didn’t go with Minseok. She went to see her mom.”

“Right,” Hoseok hums delightedly, “her mother. Who is currently being taken care of by who, again? Oh, right. Minseok.”

Namjoon uses the rearview mirror to glance back at his friend with a scowl. He knew he should have left his dumb ass back at home with Yoongi after he helped them pull the van from one of his family’s many junk yards. “You can join Hyunwoo in his misery, or you can shut the fuck up.”

Hoseok tosses his head back in howling laughter as Namjoon pulls through the security gates of Taehyung’s home. Pulling up to the front of the house, he gets out of the car to meet Taehyung and Yoongi at the passenger side door. He draws open the side door to reveal Hyunwoo bound, gagged, and covered in bruises. “Hoseok went a little…overboard.”

Yoongi’s low toned whistle makes him wince because he knows that Yoongi knows his lie was complete bullshit. “Damn, RM, you really did a number on this guy.”

“He tried to run,” Namjoon says as if it’s that simple of an explanation. When Yoongi shoots him a knowing look, he rolls his eyes towards the sky. That was, in fact, not what had happened and he had used it as a not so believable excuse to beat the shit out of Hyunwoo. It was a means to vent his frustration and Hoseok had let it happen without complaint. Then again, Hoseok never really complained about any  kind of violence. Save for the few domestic ones he’d seen over the years. Oh, he’d always let his knife or gun do the talking then. 

Taehyung climbs into the passenger seat and taps on the window as a sign for them to hurry the hell up before his wife comes storming outside. His phone rings while Yoongi jumps in the back with Hoseok and Hyunwoo. He answers it with a smirk on his face while Namjoon reclaims his seat behind the wheel. 

Namjoon isn’t entirely sure what the conversation is about but it was pretty amusing to watch Hyunwoo lose his shit. When Taehyung throws out an innuendo that clearly has his wife panicking, he tries to hide his smile as Taehyung pulls the phone from his ear and stares at it.

“She hung up on me,” Taehyung comments in disbelief. He really shouldn’t be surprised that Nabi would hang up on him after his little quip, or the fact that she hadn’t entirely forgiven him for their fight last night. But if there’s one thing Namjoon’s come to learn in the decades of friendship with his six brothers, it’s that they’re all the smartest people he knows…and the dumbest. It’s a good balance of brains and stupidity, it keeps things fresh. 

“I’m shocked she didn’t do more than yell at you last night,” Namjoon laughs. “Or that you didn’t kill Yoongi for being an instigator.”

“What good would it do me to be rid of him?” Taehyung catches Yoongi’s eye in the mirror. “But he is lucky I didn’t at least shoot him for it.”

“Jimin was the one who made it worse by giving you the spare key to your guys’ room,” Yoongi defends himself with a roll of his eyes. “Did it not get worse after you opened that door and Nabi nearly tore your head off?”

“Jimin’s not out of the woods either.” Taehyung scrolls through his phone, swiping through picture after picture that Hoseok had sent him earlier. Each of them include Hyunwoo stalking down various streets in his attempt to follow one of Nabi’s best friends. He thumbs through each one until…

“Is this a picture of you kissing Y/N, Namjoon?” Taehyung’s eyebrows shoot so far up that they nearly disappear into his hairline. 

“Hoseok!” Namjoon barks back at his friend. “I said send it to Minseok, not broadcast it to everyone we know.”

Hoseok shrugs from his spot in the back. “As I recall, I said I wasn’t going to stand around all day while you guys made out. But you made me wait anyway. So, that’s on you.”

“My god, Namjoon, you really didn’t hold back, did you?” Yoongi is too busy peeking over Taehyung’s shoulder to notice Namjoon holding up his middle finger. 

“Clearly, she didn’t either,” Taehyung notes, turning slightly so Yoongi can get a better look. 

“Stop it,” Namjoon hisses, reaching out to take the phone from Taehyung. “You guys are like fucking children. It’s a wonder how Nabi can stand the two of you.”

“You’re awfully angry for someone who kissed the girl he’s been pining after for 10 years,” comes Yoongi’s voice.

“I didn’t really kiss her,” Namjoon growls low in his throat and contemplates shoving Yoongi out of the moving van. “And I haven’t been fucking pining, you prick.”

“Someone’s pretty fucking testy this morning,” his senior hisses back, having had enough of Namjoon’s pissy attitude. 

“He’s just pissed that she spent the morning with Minsoek,” Hoseok not so helpfully supplies. “Apparently the picture didn’t do much to deter the poor bastard from asking her out again. Remind me why it ended between them again?”

Namjoon grips the wheel so tight that his arm shakes with barely restrained anger. Your relationship with Minseok ended on a relatively civil note. Something that always bothered Namjoon because it would have been easier for you to let go of him, or for Minseok to let go of you if things had just ended badly. But that hadn’t been the case. At least not from what you’d told him. You’d called him one night and, in an eerily calm voice, explained that Minseok had broken up with you. All of the time spent apart because of your part time jobs and having to tend to your mother had finally made him snap. You’d gone on to say that you weren’t really sure why you’d been so surprised. After all, Namjoon had been hinting at it for months but you’d never taken it seriously. It hadn’t bothered you that Minseok chose to part ways, maybe that’s why it angered Minseok when you didn’t want to reconcile. Maybe a part of him thought and still thinks that you didn’t care for him as much as he was led to believe. 

Good, Namjoon thinks to himself. Good, because fuck Minseok and fuck his selfishness for leaving you at your most vulnerable, and then turning around and hoping to get back together. Namjoon will be damned before that ever happens.

He tunes back into the conversation when it steers to Nabi’s best friend, Soyoung, whom Hyunwoo had been tailing. They inform him that Soyoung can be just as cruel as Nabi if not more, and Hyunwoo seems caught off guard. Namjoon finds it easy to fall into the cruel amusement his boss and friends have at Hyunwoo’s expense. That is, until Yoongi brings up the subject of what you and Minseok could have possibly been up to if you weren’t answering Namjoon’s calls or texts. Namjoon quickly shuts down once more, sneering at Yoongi’s reflection in the mirror.

“Damn,” Hoseok sighs and pockets his switchblade as they come up on Taehyung’s father’s building. “Now you guys have done it. He’ll be pissy the rest of the day now.”

“Us?” Yoongi hisses, pushing Hoseok’s shoulder roughly as they scramble out of the van. “You’re the one who brought it up first, dumbass.”

“You didn’t have to mention that she hasn’t responded, dipshit.”

“Enough,” Taehyung hushes them as they walk through the back doors of his father’s building. He doesn’t often use them, but given how they’re still holding Hyunwoo hostage, he doesn’t really have a choice now. “We’ll talk about this later,” he addresses Namjoon after stepping into the elevator.

------------------------------------------------------------

Namjoon thanks whatever higher power that keeps Taehyung occupied with the Seong brothers at lunch so he can thumb through his phone once more. He’s been waiting all fucking day for you to answer his call, which is yet to happen. He knows he said you needed to get sleep, but damn it, he wishes he could go and check on you. That, and the fact that he and Taehyung are still reeling from their earlier argument is on his mind. Taehyung’s plan to put Nabi and Hyunwoo in the same room as each other while giving Hyunwoo the freedom to move about honestly scares Namjoon. It’s clear that Nabi is capable of handling herself against any normal person, but Hyunwoo has grown up in the center of the mafia, being spoiled and coddled so much by his father that he believed he was entitled to anything he wanted. This included Nabi. It makes Namjoon’s stomach turn sour at the thought of putting Nabi in a situation that could potentially destroy her strong mindset. But Taehyung has all the faith in the world in his wife and Namjoon can’t blame him. Nabi is the furthest thing from timid and weak.   

Thunder crashes in the sky above and lightning follows, leaving their entire party to rush inside the cafe Nabi’s chosen to eat at. As they filter inside, Yoongi is hissing underneath his breath about getting caught in the rain while he shucks his jacket off to lay across an empty table. Jungkook and Jimin don’t miss the opportunity to piss him off further by shaking their hair about and spraying water everywhere. 

“Damn it,” Hoseok seethes at the two youngest, resisting the urge to slap one or both of them upside the head. “Can you two be any less civilized?”

“Jungkook!” Namjoon slaps his shoulder after the youngest wrings out his jacket over top of Hoseok’s head. As if Hoseok wasn’t one of the most dangerous men in the city. “Behave.”

Jungkook snorts in response and sets his jacket flat over the same table Yoongi has his splayed about. He’s the only one of them to not notice Taehyung drag Nabi off towards the bathrooms and Namjoon’s eye twitches when the Seong brothers do notice and 4 out of the 5 men move to stop them from following Taehyung and Nabi. It would be alot easier if Jungkook would pull his head out of his ass and get it together. 

“You can’t really expect us to stand here and do nothing?” Joongki, the oldest Seong brother and Nabi’s cousin, tries to shove past Namjoon.

“Unless you want to walk in on a very intimate moment,” Hoseok warns him while wrangling Jeonghan, Nabi’s other cousin, to an empty booth. “I suggest you sit the hell down and leave them be.”

“Nabi will be embarrassed enough without the two of you storming in there.” Yoongi grips Joongki’s shoulder and helps Namjoon shove him into the other side of the booth. “Know and understand this, Taehyung cherishes your cousin more than any of us here. There’s not a damn thing in this world that could stop him from giving her anything and everything she wants and needs. He will not hurt her, he will not coerce her into what’s happening, and he for damn sure will absolutely not touch her without her express permission.”

“Joongki,” Namjoon catches his attention, “I know you’re smarter than this. I know you would not have let Taehyung put Nabi under our roof if you thought we couldn’t keep her safe. None of us would let Taehyung hurt her. Jungkook nearly got himself killed multiple times just for stepping in between their arguments. Don’t lose your cool because you can’t handle that Nabi’s a grown woman.”

Finally, the Seong brothers seem to accept the words Yoongi and Namjoon speak, and Namjoon sighs in relief now that he can check his phone again. Still, nothing from you and it makes his blood boil. “Son of a bitch,” he grumbles, dialing your phone number and pressing it to his ear. “I swear to God, if you don’t fucking pick up…”

“Yeah?” Your breathless voice hits his ears like a symphony and all of the blood rushes to his groin. You’re met with absolute silence and pull the phone back to check if Namjoon had hung up. “Joon? You there?”

He coughs as his throat dries up and attempts to clear it in hopes of not sounding so gruff when he answers, “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

“Just a little,” you huff out another breathless laugh. “It’s okay though. I had to get up and get some grocery shopping done before my shift at the diner tonight.”

“You should have done that after your breakfast with Minseok,” he growls, letting his temper get the best of him. “Then you could have slept longer.”

“I slept long enough.” You know he can practically hear your eye roll. “Joon, I didn’t have breakfast with Minseok. I went to visit my mother and he was there. He does happen to work there, you know.”

“Didn’t seeing my tongue down your throat scare him off?” he snaps back in response. “Didn’t it piss him off the way it pisses me off that he really thinks he has a chance after I sent you to him wet and ready for me?”

“Namjoon!” you gasp, clenching your thighs together as you had earlier that morning. What had gotten into him? He’s never spoken to you this way and while it did get you a little hot and bothered, it also reminds you of the almost kiss you’d shared. Something that most definitely should not have happened. It left you wanting much more and knowing you can’t have it. It’s a line you swore you’d never cross with Namjoon, not when he was your oldest and only friend. It would complicate things and you couldn’t handle losing him if it tore the friendship apart.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” his voice cuts through your thoughts, making your heartbeat skyrocket. “I’m so sorry, Y/N, that wasn’t okay for me to say. I’m just—.”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off, not wanting to hear whatever explanation he has for momentarily forgetting you were his best friend, not one of the usual girls he sleeps with. “Look, Namjoon, I have to go. It’s going to get late and I won’t be able to get everything done that I need to.”

“Y/N, wait. I—.”

“And don’t stop by the diner tonight.” You’re adamant in this because a few of your co-workers had spotted him this morning and texted you to ask if you’d been dating again. You don’t need them to think you’re attached to anyone, especially not Namjoon of all people. It would only make things awkward when he inevitably got a long time girlfriend and you were stuck having to explain everything. 

“Why the fuck not?” Namjoon tries his best to keep his voice down, but he’s not doing a very good job as Mr. and Mrs. Kim’s heads whip his way. “The area around the diner is dangerous, Y/N, I’ll be damned if anything happens to you.” He’s seething and it shows in his voice after hearing his full name from your lips. He’d learned long ago that if he made you angry enough, you would forgo his nickname in favor of his full name, and he never realized how much he hated hearing you say it until right this moment. “Where is this coming from?”

“People will talk, Namjoon,” you mumble, scooting to the edge of your bed in search of your pajama shorts. Your air conditioner has been on the fritz lately and it picks and chooses when to work. Today, it decided it did not want to work. Though it was still nice and cool outside, your apartment was like a damn furnace since the window latch had been broken. Admittedly, you don’t live in the greatest building with the greatest landlord. Or the greatest part of town. But it’s a roof over your head, so you can’t really complain. Namjoon had lost his shit time and time again when it came to your apartment so you decided to stop telling him all of its issues entirely. 

“So, let them talk,” he growls, turning away from Yoongi’s questioning gaze. His stare, in turn, had the rest of the guys and Taehyung’s parents staring as well. It makes Namjoon tense up when they notice he’s losing this argument. “Don’t take that chance just because I pissed you off, Y/N. Don’t push me away and shut me out because I’m being an asshole. That’s my fault and I’m sorry. But don’t…” he sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose. He can hear the rustling of your sheets as you move about your bed. His throat bobs at the thought of what the hell you could be doing to make that much noise. “Just don’t, baby, please.”

Baby.

He called you baby and a part of you softens at the pet name. The other part of you gets angry that he would try to manipulate you by saying it. You’ve watched him charm girl after girl when he got bored enough and every single time, they fell for it. You hated it. Hated how they got to see a part of him he would never show you because of your friendship. Hated that he was using those same tactics now to manipulate you into forgiving him. Your chest feels tight and there’s a hitch in your breath when you tell him, “I don’t want people to think we’re together. It’s bad enough Minseok bought into the picture Hobi sent him. I don’t need my coworkers thinking I’m ready to date again. Especially not you.”

He takes offense to that. So much so that his knuckles curl into a fist, one that’s two seconds away from meeting the wall in front of him until Jimin taps his shoulder. It’s enough to make him look up and find that everyone was ready to go after the rain finally settled. Poor Nabi looks ready to combust, her entire face as red as a tomato, and Taehyung looks too fucking smug for Namjoon’s liking. He hangs up without bidding you goodbye because if he opens his mouth to say anything at all, it’ll only upset you even more. Especially not him? What the fuck was that supposed to mean? 

His life was never meant for someone permanent or special to be invited into. Not with the constant danger lurking around every corner, or the men he regularly spends time around because of Taehyung and his own family ties into the mafia. While his father treats his mother like a goddess, and Taehyung does the same with Nabi, Namjoon couldn’t see himself treating anyone with that kind of respect while you were around. You occupy too many of his thoughts. He’s aware that all of this falls on him. His unyielding thought process of never fully committing to someone because of you, is entirely his own fucking fault, and he knows it. His parents would be ashamed of him if he were to ever marry and be unfaithful. Then again, who would he be unfaithful with if not you? You’d never allow it. You have too much self respect to ever be the other woman. It’s one of the things Namjoon respects the most about you. Some women didn’t care if they were some man’s side piece in the mob. It meant expensive gifts, expensive trips, hell, some men even bought their mistresses homes in order to keep them happy. It wasn’t odd for it to happen, but Namjoon had taken great care to surround himself with people fully devoted to treating women as more than just play things. He never thought he’d ever actually find friends like that, until he’d met Taehyung, and then Yoongi, and Hoseok, and so on. 

He’s never told you what he does for “work” and you’ve never really asked. He can never truly tell you the truth unless he was willing to drag you into his life completely. Obviously, he really is ready, but you’d never plunge into this life head first without thinking of the consequences. It’s a dangerous line to toe and he knows he shouldn’t push, but clearly Minseok had said something to make you doubt him. Minseok had always made you second guess the things Namjoon did and said, and you’d cave under the guilty weight of taking Namjoon’s side over your boyfriends. Minseok had been able to weasel his way into your life and shove Namjoon out to the brink of Namjoon nearly storming to Minseok’s house with Hoseok and Jimin in tow. 

Damn. He has to get you away from Minseok. And soon. Because if he wormed his way underneath your skin, Namjoon would well and truly kill him this time.

Parting ways with Mrs. Kim’s car filled with Nabi, her cousins, Jimin, and Jungkook, Namjoon plopped into the driver's side of the van they’d arrived in. Taehyung, Yoongi, and Hoseok follow suit, all silently climbing into the car in a much more gingerly manner than Namjoon himself had. Taehyung, while still sexed out of his mind, still had the decency to ask if his friend was alright.

“Sounded pretty intense,” Hoseok said from the back seat, eyeing Namjoon’s rigid form. “What did Y/N say to piss you off so much? Because the last time I saw that look in your eye, we nearly wiped out the entire Lee family. They still haven’t forgiven us, by the way. Mr. Kim’s got them nearly beating down his door to get to you, Namjoon.”

The tall man pretends not to hear a word Hoseok says because of course he remembers. He’d gotten into a fight with you then too. He vividly remembers how you’d questioned his lengthy absence when you never had before. You’d always figured his business was his alone and you shouldn’t butt in. But that time, Minseok had managed to convince you that Namjoon simply didn’t want to be around because of Minseok’s presence. While that rang true, Namjoon couldn’t exactly tell you that he’d been sent on an assignment to the Maldives with Hoseok to deal with a shipment the Lee family was in control of. He’d been gone for almost an entire month when you finally called, only to ask if he’d tired of you. He could remember the sound of your voice cracking as you tried to hold back tears. He had tried to explain, tried to tell you that it was for work, but he could hear Minseok’s mousy fucking voice in the background, taunting you in a sickeningly sweet way that only he could. You’d said your goodbyes to Namjoon, almost sounding final, and Namjoon. Had. Gone. Feral. Absolutely apeshit and cut down a good portion of the Lee men because he’d been pissed. Later, he’d told Taehyung that the family was indeed skimming some of the product, which was why he’d been sent to the Maldives in the first place. He’d silently cursed Taehyung back then, well and truly hated the man that had become his brother, and for what? A stupid argument that Minseok had incited? 

Taehyung clocks Namjoon’s grip on the wheel and winces at how his friend is about to lose all self control and possibly kill what little is left of the Choi family. For Namjoon to completely lose himself again, means that whatever is bothering him has to do with you. Taehyung almost feels bad for him, and he would offer some advice if he didn’t have bigger problems at hand. What he can do is try to free up some time for Namjoon to work things out however he needs to. Though, if this is anything like the situation with the Lee family, Taehyung can’t imagine the hell Namjoon will rain down on the poor sucker stupid enough to even so much as slightly push the wrong button. It would be a bloodbath of epic proportions and Taehyung runs a hand down his face at the thought. They can’t afford for Namjoon to be distracted right now, but it was inevitable. Every so often, Namjoon loses focus and becomes completely and utterly consumed by you. Even if you don’t know it. 

Yoongi watches Hyunwoo raise a curious brow at Namjoon’s behavior and the tense silence compared to the friendly banter earlier. When he turns to meet Yoongi’s stare, Yoongi sneers at him so viciously that it makes Hyunwoo visibly recoil. He smirks and looks out the front windshield, watching the buildings pass by in a blur. He can see the cogs in the machine that is Namjoon’s genius brain turn and turn. Something had to have gone completely wrong with you if it’s gotten this bad again. He can see Namjoon’s pupils dilate with the rush of adrenaline he’s sure to unleash on Hyunwoo if he makes one wrong move. He’s quite sure that Namjoon almost hopes the Choi family fucks up so it’ll give him a reason to go nuts. Namjoon lives on fear and chaos, it’s one of the things that made him so frightening and dangerous. It’s one of the many things Taehyung had sought him out for as teenagers. By that age, Namjoon had quite the body count and truthfully, if he and Hoseok had to go toe to toe, everyone knows it would be pretty damn close. What makes him even more scary is that no one would ever be able to tell how much blood stains his hands because of his cool and calm demeanor. 

Hoseok almost pays no mind to Namjoon’s disheveled state as he plays with his switchblade, every so often leaning over to knick Hyunwoo’s skin. It was almost torture and Hoseok knows if anyone could appreciate it, it’s Namjoon. However, with Namjoon’s lack of self awareness, Hoseok finds that he must enjoy this by himself. Really, he’s worried that Namjoon’s going to go on a rampage again. It took them forever to clean up the mess in the Maldives. Not to mention the complete shitshow that followed and Mr. Kim had to sort out enough for there to be some sense of civility. Goddamn it, he really doesn’t need another disaster on his hands. The Choi family better pray for themselves because God only knows what Namjoon is cooking up in his head. 

Namjoon’s phone rings in the silence and actually makes Taehyung jump a little. He glances down to find the name “Hana” in bold letters taking up the screen. Namjoon lets it go to voicemail because Taehyung’s sure that it isn’t exactly the name he wants to pop up on his phone right now. He doesn’t know who the girl is, but if you catch wind of it, then it won’t be good. The phone rings again and Namjoon picks it up with some bite in his tone.

“What?” Namjoon snaps.

“Oh, hey,” Hana purrs back, giggling even though she can tell how mad he is. “Are you busy? I’m kind of bored and thought—.”

“We fucked once, Hana,” he sneers, “and it wasn’t exactly memorable for me, so find a different dick to suck.”

“Fuck you, Namjoon!” she screeches at his audacity. “You know, I don’t exactly remember you complaining when I sucked your dick, you asshole! Here’s a tip, Namjoon, maybe don’t be a complete prick the next time a woman reaches out to satisfy you. There won’t be many left if you continue on like that.”

“You’re a placeholder, Hana.” Namjoon smirks and the guys in the van inwardly groan because now some poor girl is about to get the brunt of his wrath. “I don’t want anyone else, just one girl, and she’s not you. Maybe some small, pathetic part of you had hoped you were special but you’re really not. I was drunk and bored and you were willing to spread your legs for me, so fuck off.”

Taehyung winces as Namjoon slams his phone back on the center console. Jesus fucking Christ, that was brutal. Namjoon’s not exactly a saint but he’s very rarely crude to a girl. Whatever you’d argued about must have messed him up good if he was speaking that way to someone. They reach the house just after Nabi’s car gets there and Taehyung basically leaps out of the van to usher his wife from the car. 

Namjoon locks eyes with Nabi for a second before he turns his glare to Taehyung because not only does he have to deal with the Choi family, he’s still steaming from his conversation with you. He doesn’t see Nabi frown, only concentrating on getting Hyunwoo into the house without her seeing. He shoves Hyunwoo harder than necessary when Yoongi has to prod him forward with a gun. God, he can only hope this was enough to release some of the tension simmering beneath his skin.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

You’re almost halfway through grocery shopping when a sense of dread settles in your chest. You don’t know what it is or how it was even brought on, but you know there’s something not right. You round the corner of the canned food aisle, determined to get away from whatever it was when you bump into a firm chest. Strong hands reach out to steady you while your breath catches. You look up to find a handsome stranger with the oddest smile on his face. It’s not menacing but it certainly isn’t friendly either. “Sorry,” you mumble, taking a step back to create some much needed distance. 

He only smiles wider, raking a hand through his dark hair and waving his hand dismissively. “Oh, it’s not a problem at all. It’s my fault, actually. I wasn’t watching where I was going. Are you alright?”

“Um, yeah, I’m fine.” You blink up at him, unsure of whether or not you should even keep talking to him. Namjoon always hated the way you’d become friendly with anyone, especially strangers. You’d called him out on it once, insisting that he was just being paranoid, but he didn’t budge. He always says no one can be trusted, but then you wonder what exactly makes him so trustworthy, or why he trusts you at all. The thought of your best friend sends a pang through your heart and you frown. Maybe you shouldn’t have been so harsh with him earlier. He was only trying to help, but you let your insecurities shine through and lashed out at him. 

“Kang Chunghee,” he says, offering his hand in greeting. He can see the apprehension on your face even as you take his hand in yours and shake it. Taking a step too close, he towers over you in a way that almost makes you cower away. His eyes roam down your body from head to toe, but you’re so busy looking everywhere but him that you don’t notice. Your hair, he notes, and face look so much like your mother’s that it’s a wonder why you hadn’t been spotted before now. Then again, his father wasn’t exactly looking to make trouble with the Kim family, but he’d found out about your mother’s illness and insisted on seeking you out. His hand tightens briefly, making you wince, as the memories of his own mother begging his father to leave “that woman” be and come back home to her. He never did, of course, and soon sent Chunghee’s mother spiraling into a world of drugs and alcohol. Both of which killed her not long after your birth. 

“Cho Y/N,” you reply with a hiss, trying to pull your hand from his. It takes a moment for him to realize he’d been holding on too tight and quickly drops your hand. You take this chance to scan his face and realize he looks vaguely familiar but you can’t quite place it anywhere. He could just be one of the many patrons that have come and gone from the diner. You meet so many people at your job that it’s not entirely out of the ordinary to run into someone while out and about. As if on cue, your phone rings and you scramble for it in hopes that it’s Namjoon and you can apologize, but you’re disappointed to find that it’s your manager instead. You give Chunghee a polite smile before stepping away to answer the call. She only asks if you can come in a bit early as one of the other waitresses has called in sick. You sigh and check your watch to ask for some extra time to go home and get ready. Throughout the entire conversation, you notice that Chunghee hasn’t left your side at all, and you tense up when he steps closer once more after ending your phone call. 

“Ah, I have to apologize,” he says and takes a step back to give you some space. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Um.” You shift on the balls of your feet, clutching your phone tight in your hand and contemplating calling Namjoon. You shake your head. No. His paranoia is simply rubbing off on you and this guy hasn’t really done anything to offend or scare you other than being a little too interested. You remind yourself that at one point, Minseok had been the same way before he finally worked up the courage to ask you out on a date. “I really should get going.”

“Oh, of course.” Chunghee gestures for you to go ahead and walk on, bidding you goodbye with a simple wave. Once you round the corner to the registers, his smile slowly fades into a grimace. If your mother is as beautiful as you are, then he can see why his father was tempted by her. His chest grows tight and bile rises in his throat that he has to swallow down. As a child he’d always wondered why his father could so easily cast him and his mother aside. Looking at you now, he sees exactly why. He’s only ever seen photos of your mother and none of you, but his father had told him it’s because he didn’t even know you existed. Not until your mother had grown sick and you’d somehow gotten tangled up in one of the notorious Kim family’s webs. Fool, he thinks of you. If only you had never come up on the Kim family’s radar then you never would have come up on his father’s. Or, he supposes, he’s your father as well. 

He gives you all of 2 minutes to get ahead of him before he stalks out of the grocery store to see you climb into a junker car that he can’t even fathom why it would even still exist. He slips into his own car, a much nicer one, and peels out of the parking lot just a little after you do. He takes turn after turn and a muscle in his jaw ticks when it dawns on him that you don’t even notice you’re being followed, and even worse, his eye visibly twitches after parking down the street from a rundown building that you seem to be living in. “For fuck’s sake,” he sighs to himself, running a hand down his face. He’s meant to hate you, to loathe your mother for stealing away his father’s attention and causing his mother to lose her damn mind. But a twinge of guilt eats away at him. His father was never the greatest man, but Chunghee’s certainly lived a much more lavish life than you have. His father may have laid his hands on him quite a few times during his childhood, but you’re so carefree that he’s actually envious, and even still, he feels bad that you’ve had to go nights hungry while he was gifted with so much food that he didn’t know what to do with it. He was 28 when he’d learned of your existence and by then you were already 18, living paycheck to paycheck and working yourself to the bone to afford your mother’s medical costs. Until that point, he and his father had always wondered where your mother had disappeared to. According to his father, she’d up and left one day, leaving behind most of her belongings for the obvious reason that she never wanted to be found again. She’d even changed her name and lived 18 blissful long years in the shadows. 

Chunghee can only wonder how she’d never figured out who his father was until it was too late. If he’s correct in his math, she’d already been pregnant with you when she skipped town. Which means she had to have found out that his father was both married and a dangerous man. He can commend her for wanting to protect you, which was far more than his father was willing to do for him. If you weren’t somehow tied to the Kim family, then Kang Himchan would have swooped in and stolen you away long ago. But with Kim Namjoon hovering around so often, the older Kang could only grit his teeth and turn a blind eye if he didn’t want to overstep and start problems. 

He’s pulled from his thoughts when you emerge from the building, basically running, and jump in your car to speed off. He looks at the clock on his dashboard, guessing that you took far longer than you thought you would to get ready. He gives you a few extra miles before he starts down the same road you’d gone, following along until he reaches the diner just before exiting the city. It’s far, he realizes as another glance at the clock shows that it took almost an hour to get there. He’d paid no mind to the time when he’d scouted out the diner last night. He’d come out on a whim, wondering if you were well and truly under the Kim family protection, and snorted when you’d gone the entire night without so much as a hint of the Kims around. When you’d left for the night, he’d gotten out of his car to confront you, but then Namjoon had shown up, and Chunghee had frozen in place. He’d been wrong because not only had the Kims been hidden in the literal dark, Jung Hoseok had been lying in wait as well. Anyone in this line of work knows who Hoseok is, and if he’s hovering around you, then this is going to be far more complicated than he first thought. He’s tempted to go sit in the diner, but after the disaster that was the interaction in the grocery store, he doesn’t want to give you a reason to contact Namjoon. So he waits. For hours. 14, to be exact, and he finds himself shifting in his seat every 10 minutes. Why the hell he feels so inclined to sit around for your entire shift, he doesn’t know, but you have to be tired out by now. How the hell would it look if he’s the one that’s exhausted when you’re the one who’s been running around on your feet all day?

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You can feel it. You don’t know what it is or where it’s coming from, but you know you’re being watched. It’s unnerving, and while you’re trying your best to get through your shift, you also want to find out who could be watching. Not wanting to let them know you’re on to them, you keep plowing through orders and customers, running hot plates from the kitchen, cleaning off tables and kitchen utensils, and itching to reach for your phone to text Namjoon. But he hasn’t reached out to you either, making a small part of you actually want to cry because you’ve upset him. It’s not often that he gets angry with you, but when he does, it never takes very long for you to apologize or for him to check on you even if he is mad. So for him to go the entire day without contacting you is terrifying. Especially when you know something is wrong. When your shift is finally over, you say your goodbyes to your coworkers and check your phone as you head to your car. Your shoulders deflate with disappointment, thoughts swirling in your head, so much so that they drown out the sound of approaching feet. Fingers tap on your shoulder, and you whirl around with an ear piercing scream, only to have someone slap their hand over your mouth.

Hoseok looks at you with a raised brow, a little concerned with your pale face and the sweat beading down by your temples. You’re scared and he doesn’t like that. He removes his hand from your mouth, watching as your bottom lip wobbles in an attempt to hold back a sob. He grips your arms tighter than he means to. “What happened?”

You heave out a sigh of relief, shaking your head to clear your thoughts. “Oh, Hobi. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scream like that.”

“You obviously had a reason to, so help me out here, and tell me what could have scared you so much.”

“It’s nothing,” you promise even though you know you shouldn’t lie. Hoseok’s always been good at telling when someone’s lying and you’re not entirely sure why you even tried. You watch him scan the dark parking lot anyways, fingers nearly bruising your skin with the force of his grip. You wince out loud, regaining his attention and he lets go of you. 

“I’m sorry.” He frowns, reaching up to pat down your messy hair. “I came to check on you. Namjoon’s been out of it all day and I know you guys fought.”

“It was stupid,” you whisper, casting your eyes to the ground in shame. Hoseok showing up on Namjoon’s behalf means that your best friend isn’t anywhere near ready to speak to you again. You really screwed up this time if he sent Hoseok all the way out here when he could have just called you himself. You feel awful that Hoseok even drove all the way out here in person just because you’re having a difficult time processing everything from the day before. The way Namjoon held you and looked at you, it was far better than you ever imagined, and you let your insecurities get the best of you. You’re doing what you’ve always done when someone gets too close. You’re pushing him away like you used to when you were dating Minseok. The two of you had fought more than usual while you were with Minseok, and this fight reminds you of those times. 

“It can’t be that stupid if you guys are this messed up over it.” Hoseok keeps petting your hair with affection, but he’s not fooled. Something else is going on here and you’re not being honest with him. He’s scared you before, albeit playfully, but even when he’d done it in earnest, you’ve never reacted that way. He’ll have to bring it up with Namjoon and hopefully it’ll be enough to pull his head out of his ass. After the disastrous confrontation between Nabi, the Choi family, and Taehyung, Namjoon had been even more on edge and left the house. Hoseok had assumed he’d come to tail you, but he wasn’t picking up his phone, so Hoseok drove out here to check. He’d grown worried when he got to the diner and didn’t see Namjoon’s car anywhere, so he’d gotten out to come ask you when his phone pinged with a message from Namjoon. He’d told Hoseok that he just needed air to clear his head and he was on his way back to the house. Hoseok was ready to leave it alone and go back himself, but his instincts had kicked in, and rightfully so. He considers memorizing the license plates currently in the parking lot to have Yoongi run when he gets back, but decides against it when he hears your car door open. 

“It is,” you remind him. “It’s a stupid fight over a stupid thing and Namjoon wouldn’t get it, and I said some things I shouldn’t have. I just want some space, Hobi, is that too much?”

“Yes,” he growls, holding out the car door for you to climb in. “It’s too much for Namjoon and you know that, Y/N. He doesn’t like space when it comes to you and this fight is affecting all of us. We’re his friends too, Y/N, and it’s out of the ordinary for us to see him this way.”

“Then space is exactly what we need.” You slam the door shut, leaving Hoseok pleasantly surprised by your outburst. You’ve never taken that much attitude with him and he’s a little amused by it. You’re careful not to run over his feet as you back out of the parking space, giving him a small wave before driving away. Peering in the rearview mirror, you watch him fade into the background and miss the way his body locks up.

Hoseok turns slightly, meeting the eyes of someone he’s not quite familiar with, before the person rolls up their car window. There, he thinks. That’s what, or rather who, was bothering you. He glares at his reflection in the window as the car drives away, pulling his phone from his pocket to dial Namjoon’s number.

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Namjoon sits in one of the lounge chairs in his small library at the house, his hair sticking up in every direction after running his hands through it. After the confrontation earlier with Nabi and the Choi family, he’d gone out for a long drive. He was tempted to drive up to your apartment, or even stake out the diner, but he wasn’t sure he could handle seeing you without forcing a conversation. The last thing he wants is to disrespect your boundaries, but his skin prickles at the thought of not checking up on you. He could never forgive himself if something were to happen to you. A light knock on the doorframe gets his attention and he looks up to find Nabi leaning against it. 

She gives him a soft smile when he gestures to the empty chair across from him, striding across the room to sit. “Are you alright?” “Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?” he snorts in response, pinching the bridge of his nose as the tension in his neck travels up to the base of his skull. “It was a hard day for you.”

She nods slightly. “Namjoon, can I…” she trails off, fiddling with her thumbs anxiously but he doesn’t push, only giving her the time she needs to gather her thoughts. “What I did today, with Hyunwoo, and the gun. How did it look to you guys?”

“What do you mean?” He’s obviously confused because she can’t really mean to think his opinion of her has changed to a bad one. 

“Did it look like I was hiding something from you guys?”

“No,” he answers immediately. “Nabi, Hoseok told us that he suspected you weren’t exactly timid a long time ago. None of us really thought you were to begin with. Taehyung didn’t scare you, Jungkook and Jimin didn’t scare you. Hell, even Hoseok couldn’t scare you off even when you know the kinds of things we do.”

She inhales sharply, taking his hand when he offers it in support. “Growing up in this life definitely hardens a person, but sometimes I think I take it too far.”

“We’ve all had to do some unforgivable things to survive this life.” Namjoon’s thumb skims across her knuckles. “I think the way you kept that part of yourself closed off was just a way to protect yourself. There’s nothing wrong with that, even if Taehyung was angry about it. I’m glad you opened up, Nabi, it means you trust us enough to be comfortable.”

“Comfortable enough to ask what’s going on with you,” Nabi quickly changes the subject, jumping right into what she came to the library for in the first place. 

“It’s Y/N,” he sighs, dropping her hand and sinking back into the chair. “I may have had Hoseok send a picture to her ex that made us look like more than friends, and she got angry with me. She said she didn’t want me hanging around the diner for awhile to avoid her coworkers asking questions. For whatever reason, she doesn’t want them to think she’s in a relationship with anyone, but before we could really get into it, I had to focus on the situation here and I haven’t called her since.”           

“Namjoon,” Nabi admonishes him, slapping his arm lightly. “First of all, as much help as you think the picture was, I can promise you, it wasn’t. Secondly, how do you think she’ll feel if you start showing up around her coworkers and she has to explain that you’re just friends even though they’ve seen more? Honestly, Kim Namjoon, did you even fully think of the consequences that picture could bring?”

Namjoon opens his mouth to argue when his phone starts to ring and Nabi takes that as her victory before slinking out of the room. He shakes his head, amused but doesn’t want to admit it, before answering Hoseok’s call. “What is it?”

“Y/N’s being followed,” Hoseok wastes no time getting to the point. He’s already in his car, speeding after you and your stalker, but he was too far behind to begin with. His palms begin to sweat with what he can only describe as fear when he has to slam on the brakes at a nearby intersection. “Fuck!” he curses, slamming his hands against the steering wheel, losing sight of your car. “I lost them.” “Where?” Namjoon is up and in the garage, car keys in his shaking hands as dread fills his entire body. 

“Not far. If you leave now, you should meet her just as she’s getting home.”

Shit, Namjoon seethes to himself. His hands tighten on the wheel as he speeds down street after street. Shit, shit, shit! He tries calling you, but you don’t answer, and he doesn’t want to panic. You’ve just worked another double, he reasons, you always forget to take a phone charger with you so your phone had to have died. That has to be it. For the sake of whoever is stupid enough to follow you, that had better be what happened. The automatic voice echoes in the car as he gets your voicemail one more time. “Baby,” he says after the beep, “I know you’re angry with me, but I need you to pick up the phone.”

Three more unanswered calls later, his body is wound tight as he pulls up to your apartment building, not seeing your car anywhere in sight. He jumps out the driver’s seat and bolts up the stairs to your apartment, pounding on the door, but he’s met with more silence. He has to call his father, has to get their men out there in search of you, he has to. Has to. Has to. Has to.

“Joon?” your voice reaches his ears, but you’re not sure he actually hears you. You take in his heaving shoulders and chest, the shaking of his hands, and lay your palm on his shoulder to get his attention. You gasp in pain when he rounds on you, shoving your back into the wall with his long fingers wrapped around your neck. Your hand wraps around his wrist to try and pry it away, looking into his eyes to find them nearly black with rage. “Joon! Namjoon, it’s me!”

Namjoon’s eyes finally clear, blood still roaring in his ears as he seems to recognize you. He glances down to find his hand around your throat, quickly releasing you. “Oh fuck, Y/N, I’m so sorry!” He holds on to your shoulders as you cough violently, trying to take in all the air you’ve lost, sliding down the wall as if to ground yourself. He falls to his knees in order to maintain eye contact, spearing his fingers through your hair to keep it out of your face, touching his forehead to yours. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby. Are you okay?”

The hold you have on his wrists never loosened, and you use it now in support as the spots in your vision begin to disappear. You’re gasping as you brace your free hand against his chest, unsure if you want to push him away yet. “Jesus fuck, Namjoon. What the hell?” 

“I’m sorry! I thought…”

“What could you possibly have thought?” You finally shove him away and stand up, fishing the apartment keys out of your pocket. You shove them in the keyhole, unlock the door, and throw it open as Namjoon follows you inside. Reaching up to your neck, your hand shakes as it feels around your sore throat. “As if Hoseok popping up wasn’t scary enough.”

“Hoseok scared you?” Namjoon’s body grows tense all over again, turning to close the apartment door.

“He didn’t mean to.” You shake your head, shucking off your jacket and tossing it onto the kitchen counter. “I was just a little off tonight, that’s all. Hoseok snuck up on me after work.” Making your way to the cabinets overhead, you pluck out a cup to fill with water. You stand facing away from him to gulp down the water. All day you’ve been wondering what you could say to him, but now that he’s here in front of you, all words are lost. It’s not just because you’re angry with what just happened, it’s that you don’t know how to even process it. 

“How many times can I say I’m sorry?” His chest presses to your back, the deep rumbling of his voice vibrates against it, your treacherous body leaning into him. He braces his hands on the counter, trapping you in place, and presses his forehead to your shoulder. “You didn’t answer your phone.”

“I put it on silent,” you whisper, turning your head so your lips skim his ear. The tips of his ears turn red even though you didn’t mean to be directly in his ear, you smile. “I forgot to put the ringer back on after Hobi scared me in the parking lot.”

He hums in reply, one arm sliding across your belly to hook around your waist completely, pulling you against him. The sun peeks through the window, having risen in the time he’s spent in your apartment. “Another late shift, then?”

“Mhm,” you confirm with a nod of your head. You meet his eyes when he raises his head to look at you. You glance down at his lips, tipping your head back just slightly and you swear he groans as he lowers his mouth to yours.

There’s nothing stopping him from kissing you this time. Not a damn thing stands in his way. That is, until there’s a knock on your door that has you jumping out of his embrace before he can actually do anything. He curses whoever is at the door, taking the cup you set on the counter to take a sip of water. His ears pick up the grating sound of Minseok’s voice, and he’s slamming the glass down on the counter before he can stop himself from getting even more pissed off. Striding to the front door, he reaches it just in time to watch you crumble to your knees, but he’s quick to stop you from hitting the floor. “Y/N?! What happened? What’s wrong?”

“She’s go–,” you sob out, tears streaming down your face endlessly. “She’s gone, Joon. She’s gone!” you shriek, gripping onto his forearms as your wails fill the apartment. Your throat is raw from screaming but you can’t seem to stop yourself. You knew it was coming, had always known, but you were never actually prepared for it.

Namjoon’s heart breaks with every body wracking sob you let out, and it hits him then just why Minseok was there. He holds you close, rocks you back and forth in hopes of soothing you, but it isn’t working. From the corner of his eye, he sees Minseok’s fingers twitch, trying to keep himself from reaching out to you, but Namjoon pulls you closer, refusing to allow Minseok to touch you.

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Sometimes you think the skies know when to be gloomy. The gray clouds that loom over the funeral procession feel as though they’re mocking you. Your mother loved rainy days, something you couldn’t come to enjoy as you grew older. You thought they were depressing, always lending a hand in her dwindling health, but she flourished in the rain. She came alive when the downpour would drench her to the bone, and as a child, you would giggle and dance in the rain with her. You remember kicking up puddles, getting your feet dirty and clothes wet, and it was everything to her. Growing older, though, you found that with the rain came runny noses, horrid coughs, sore throats, and missed days of school. You came to detest them until she got sick, and it was all she’d ask for; to see the rain. 

People, mostly Namjoon’s parents and friends, and some of your coworkers, gathered around you in comfort. They only want to help, you know this, but they’re not. Most people welcome the condolences and the sympathy, but you can’t seem to. You feel overcrowded, lost in a sea of people that you don’t want to see you break down. So you hold it in. Sometimes your breathing grows ragged as you try to hold back, but you manage to compose yourself before they can gather what’s happening. Namjoon is by your side the entire time, along with his parents, and they’re the only comfort you can find. The only ones you can stand to be around right now. They truly are your only family. Hoseok, Jimin, Jungkook, Yoongi, Seokjin, Taehyung, and Nabi take their turns to cradle you close. They aren’t just Namjoon’s friends, they’re yours too even though Hoseok was really the only one you’d spent an extensive amount of time with. Recently though, they’ve been coming around to the apartment when Namjoon was busy, all of them doing their best to keep you distracted. 

You’re sat in front of your mother’s picture with your head resting on Namjoon’s shoulder while everyone else is lined up against the wall, giving you and Namjoon the space you didn’t have to ask for, they just know you need it. Namjoon grips your hand tight, linking your fingers together and bringing up your joined hands to kiss the back of your knuckles. You peek up at him through tear filled lashes, breathing easily when he drops his forehead to your own, but that serenity doesn’t last long. A commotion breaks out at the entrance of the funeral hall, people whispering and darting about in a hurry. Namjoon’s father grits his teeth and demands to know what could be going on, when your breath hitches at the next person who steps foot in the room.

Chunghee has the decency to look apologetic as he catches your eye, taking a moment to dip his chin in greeting before stepping aside to reveal his father, Kang Himchan. He sees Namjoon tense, standing to his full height immediately to back his own father. Chunghee steps towards them in hopes of gaining control of the situation, but Kim Taehyung is quick to meet him. “Taehyung,” he simply says as if this were at all normal. 

“Kang,” Taehyung says through clenched teeth, tipping his head in your direction. Jungkook and Jimin are the first to reach you, followed by Seokjin and Nabi. Hoseok and Yoongi take their place on either side of Taehyung. 

“What the hell is this?” Namjoon’s father levels Himchan with a look that would send most men running. “How dare you come here and disturb this girl’s grieving. Have you no sense of decorum, Kang?”

“I am here to offer my condolences, obviously,” Himchan keeps his voice steady. Your mother was unknowingly his mistress, but he had loved her dearly, and wants nothing more than to know and understand you. His eyes search the room, finally landing on you, and they soften. You are the spitting image of your mother and it makes him breathless for a moment. He forgets who you’re surrounded by, taking a step in your direction, only to be met by Namjoon’s hard glare. His hackles raise, face turning red with anger. “You dare keep me from my own daughter, Kim?”

All of the air rushes out of your lungs as you struggle to breathe. Your body begins to tremble, view being blocked by Jungkook’s body, but you catch his hand sliding into the back waistband of his pants. A gun, you realize, and look around to find that he’s not the only person hiding one. Hoseok’s hand rests on his hip, the holster becoming visible as his suit jacket moves with him. Jimin and Yoongi exchange a knowing look before they too reach for their hidden weapons. 

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want when it comes to her,” Namjoon snaps back at Himchan, causing the older man to step toe-to-toe with him. He smirks at the older Kang. “That’s not a smart move.”

Before anyone can blink, weapons are drawn, all aimed at different people around the room as more men come barreling in behind Himchan. They surround their boss, standing in front of raised guns without a second thought. You scramble back towards the wall, as if pressing against it enough will make you invisible. Nabi is at your side, shushing you and squeezing your hand tight. 

“Enough,” Namjoon’s father bellows, throwing his hand up to stop anyone from actually firing. Putting his hand on his son’s shoulder, he pulls Namjoon back. “This isn’t the time or place, Namjoon. Go to Y/N. We’ve frightened her on an already stressful day.”

“Y/N,” Himchan repeats as though unused to saying your name, a smile playing on his lips at the sound. It was so like your mother to have picked something equally as beautiful as you are. His smile fades as he straightens himself up to look Namjoon’s father in the eye once more. “I’m well aware of her ties to you, Kim, but that is no more. She is my kin. My flesh and blood. It’s time she lives as such.”

“I don’t know you,” your voice cuts through the room, shaky and trembling. “I don’t know what the hell is even going on right now.”

“Y/N,” Chunghee finally pipes up. If he had known this would turn out to be such a shit show, he’d have never told his father about your mother’s passing. Ah hell, he knew it was going to be bad, he just didn’t really want to believe it. “Please, you have to believe us.”

“She doesn’t have to do a damn thing,” Namjoon roars and his friends tense, unsure of what he may do next. “You come here, Kang, declare her your daughter, and expect her to up and accept it? You’re out of your fucking mind. Even if we did believe this bullshit, I wouldn’t let her go anywhere with you.”

“You?” Himchan sneers. “You think you get any say in this? She’s my daughter, Kim. I’ve bit my tongue and kept my distance long enough, but now she needs us. Her mother is gone, her family is nowhere to be found, she is alone. But not with us.”

“She’s mine.” 

You let out a small gasp at Namjoon’s tone. You’d only ever heard him use it against Minseok when he was mad enough. You’re not sure what the outcome of this entire standoff will be, but you know you wouldn’t be able to stomach it if anyone got hurt. You’re able to wrestle out of Nabi’s hold enough to slowly approach Namjoon’s side, tangling your fingers with his. “Joon, let’s not do this, okay? Not here and not today. Please?”

Himchan’s surprise is visible on his face when Namjoon heeds your words, backing down almost instantly. He knew you were close to the Kim family and, up until recently, he was under the impression that you and Namjoon were just friends. Everyone else in the room seems to be used to this, and so he has to wonder when the change came about. Hope blooms in his chest as the gears in his mind begin to whirl. 

“We should go home for now,” Taehyung suggests, though as Nabi stands at his side, he’s pretty sure everyone knows it’s not his idea, but hers. He tries to hold in a sigh when Namjoon shoots him a glare. “Y/N will come home with us, Namjoon, don’t worry.”

“But I—,” you try to object, unable to accept anything more Taehyung has to offer. Not when he’d already done so much for you as is. 

“Hoseok and the guys will move your things in,” Namjoon interrupts, leaving no room for argument. He tugs on your hand and leads you out of the funeral hall, bumping his shoulder against one of Himchan’s goons. He can feel the reluctant pull of your arm, but he refuses to let go, not until the two of you reach his car where he buckles you in safely before sliding into the driver’s seat. 

The ride home is tense, the car filled with nothing but silence and what you suspect is grumbling coming from Namjoon even though he thinks you can’t hear it. He’s angry. More like pissed. This isn’t something any of them were prepared for. Hell, it wasn’t something any of them would have ever thought possible. Of all the people on this planet to be related to, the Kangs were the last ones anyone would have figured were your relatives. Not only that, but Himchan had forced Namjoon to show his hand, to show you a world he never should have dragged you into. He never thought he could come to regret befriending you in that hall so many years ago, but now he does. If only because he doesn’t really believe he could protect you from the power the Kang family holds. His own family is rather powerful, there’s no doubt about that, but if anyone could hold a candle to them, it’s the Kangs. 

“Namjoon,” you try to get his attention, “you’re angry.”

“I’m worried, baby, it’s different.”

“Because you think it’s true?”

“Because if it is true, then I don’t know if I can protect you,” he begrudgingly admits. 

You’re confused as you take in his words. What could you possibly need protection from? Even as you question it, the memory of everyone in there, guns drawn, comes to the forefront of your mind, and you know. You know Namjoon is hiding something. You’ve always known, but you could never have guessed it was to this extent. “Tell me,” you demand quietly and he strains to hear you. “Tell me, Namjoon, what all of that was about. What you’re hiding from me and what you’re afraid of because if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that if you’re scared, then I have to be too. So, please, tell me.”

So he does. Namjoon tells you everything, from beginning to end. What his life was like growing up in the mafia, what he’d had to learn in order to protect himself and those closest to him, and more importantly, why he had to distance himself during the 10 years of your friendship. The only thing he left out was how utterly obsessed with you he’d become. He sounded crazy enough as is, no need to tack on that he basically stalked you from the day you met him. You’re quiet after he’s finished, spending the rest of the ride home staring out of the window. Even as he pulls into the driveway, you only stare up at the giant house Taehyung had built for Nabi a few years ago. Once in the garage, you unbuckle yourself at an alarmingly normal speed, as if you hadn’t just been told that your best friend was in the goddamn mafia of all things. What’s more, all of his friends and family are part of it too, and he’s afraid you might fear Hoseok now, but when you step into the house and Hoseok is the first to sweep you up into his arms, you cling to him as you always have.  

“You’re not part of them,” Hoseok insists, mainly because from what little of his childhood he remembers, the Kangs were the driving force behind him becoming an orphan. “Even if you were, blood doesn’t make them family, Y/N. Himchan is wrong. We’re your family.”

“Do I have to go with them?” you ask honestly, pulling back to look up at Hoseok. He may not have been truthful with you, but he never lied or coddled you either. “If they come for me, Hobi, do I have to go?”

“Over my dead fucking body,” comes Namjoon’s deep voice and you gasp at the stark difference. How you were never able to differentiate his tones before is beyond you. Then again, you think you may have purposefully ignored the signs, wanting to believe he could do no harm. He snatches you out of Hoseok’s arms, pulling your chest flush against his own and raking a hand through your hair. “There’s nothing on this planet that can take you from me, Y/N, not even Kang Himchan or his son.”

“Chunghee,” you hum. Despite all of the commotion, the only thing he’d had to say was that you had to believe what his father had been saying. You could hear the plea in his voice, wondering why he hadn’t brought any of this up the day he’d run into you at the store. Then it hits you, the realization that he’d done it on purpose. Was he why Namjoon had been so scared that day after your fight? Did Chunghee threaten you somehow? 

“Speaking of the Kangs,” Taehyung says as he strides into the living room, dropping himself on the couch while Nabi gives him a stern look. “Princess, I’m tired, and I can bet everyone else here is too. Can I just sit for a second?”

Nabi rolls her eyes, cheeks turning a faint shade of pink at the pet name he’s given her since they’ve been married. She lets out a small squeal when he pulls her onto his lap. “You’re an idiot, Tae. But you’re right.” Turning to face you and Namjoon, she explains, “The Kangs are well known in our circle. Even my grandfather made a deal or two with them, and while they’d given us no reason to not trust them, they’ve made it clear that they’re not out to make friends. They’ve built themselves a solid reputation starting all the way down from Himchan’s great grandfather. They’re a prestigious family, Namjoon, not easy to break through, not like the Choi’s. If you want to fight them, it’ll have to be with some heavy artillery. I can ask my cousins for their support and they’ll grant it, but it’ll take more than that.”

“That’s hot,” Taehyung attempts to whisper in his wife’s ear but everyone still hears it and Jungkook audibly gags. He’s always loved how smart his wife is and he’s not ashamed to show it.

“Stop it.” Nabi swats at his hand, climbing off his lap to walk up to you. “Y/N, you have to understand what could happen if we go to war with Kang Himchan. I don’t want to scare you, but it’ll get bloody and it’ll get deadly, but you have to believe that if anyone can protect you from them, it’s Namjoon. I’m not saying you have to go with the Kangs if they come to collect you, but” –She raises her hand to stop Namjoon from butting in–, “you also don’t have to stay here. If you want to get to know your father and brother, that’s your decision. We won’t stop you from doing it and we most certainly won’t isolate you for their actions and wrongdoings.”

“War?” is all you can say. It’s the only thing that had really caught your attention. That and the blood and death. 

“War,” Namjoon confirms, tightening his hold on your waist. “The Kangs won’t let you go so easily, but neither will I. Give Hoseok your apartment keys. He’s taking Jimin and Jungkook to get your things. I don’t trust that they’ll pull some shit if they know you live alone.”

“I can’t just take up a room here, Joon,” you insist even as you hand off your keys to Hoseok.

“Oh, you’re not taking up a room,” Hoseok chuckles, taking the keys from your outstretched hand. “You’re sharing Namjoon’s room.”

------------------------------------------------------------------

“This isn’t happening.” You gawk at Jungkook and Jimin moving your things about Namjoon’s room a few hours later. They lug in a suitcase with a good portion of your clothes, most of which is jeans, t-shirts, and a bunch of pajama pants and shorts. Nabi had insisted on going with them to rifle through your clothes, throwing out the tattered pieces you’d shoved to the back of your closet and forgotten about. You turn to Namjoon lounging on his bed, looking as though a bomb hadn’t just been dropped on both of you. “You can’t be serious about this, Joon. I mean, this is your personal space, you can’t be happy about me invading it. The house is practically on full lock down, I’m sure there’s a spare room I can use.”

“No,” is all he says, reaching out to grab your arm and tugging you into the space next to him. “Taehyung’s taken every precaution to protect Nabi and I’ll do the same for you.” He looks as though he wants to say more but decides against it, getting up from the bed to slap Jungkook upside the head when he notices the younger man mocking him. 

“Nabi said Taheyung didn’t allow her out unless Jungkook and Jimin were with her.” 

Namjoon freezes at your words. Of course you’d ask Nabi what it was like living here, and of course Nabi wouldn’t spare any details. Jimin and Jungkook stare at him, waiting to take his lead and willing to downplay their roles as Nabi’s guards if necessary. He sighs and figures he’s done enough lying to you. He turns to see you with crossed arms and a look that says you already knew what to expect. “The same rules apply to you, Y/N. Until this situation is settled, you can’t go anywhere unless Hoseok and Jimin are with you, or I’m with you, or all three of us are escorting you somewhere. I’m not going to lie to you and say you’ll have everything you need here, but you’ll never be bored. I was going to have Seokjin or Yoongi assigned to you, but Jin’s helping Yoongi with something important and it’s taking all of their focus. Also,” he hesitates as you raise your brows, waiting for him to continue. “You can’t contact Minseok.” It’s entirely selfish of him to forbid any contact with Minseok, but it’s an opportunity he’ll take. 

With a roll of your eyes, you sink further into the bed, leaning back into his pillows. “Not that I want to talk to Minseok, but he did take care of my mom, Namjoon. I at least owe him a thank you.”

“Not right now,” he seethes, curling his hand into a fist, and Jungkook and Jimin take that as their cue to leave. Storming up to the bed, he grips your ankles and pulls you down to the edge. He smirks when you squeal in surprise, slotting himself between your thighs. When your squeal turns into a gasp, he knows it’s because you can feel how hard he’s gotten since you’ve been in the room. He plants his palms against the mattress, watching your eyes dart to the veins in his forearms, sliding forward until he’s nose to nose with you. “You can thank Minseok another time, sweetheart, but right now it’s best to keep your distance. If Kang thinks he can use Minseok to get to you, he’ll do it.”

Your brows draw together, regret settling in the pit of your stomach as you play with the collar of his black dress shirt. “My very existence is dangerous, isn’t it?”

“Not to me.” One of his hands comes up to brush the stray hairs from your face. “None of this is your fault. You didn’t even know who your father was until now.”

A light knock on his bedroom door lets him know that it’s Nabi and she’s going to give him about 10 seconds to be ready. He scrambles away from you just as she plows through the door, smiling sweetly before breaking the news. “Taehyung has accepted Kang’s request to meet with you, Y/N. I know we should have talked to you first, but I don’t want your decision to be based on emotion rather than rationale. Is that okay?”

You nod, grateful that she’s on your side and to have her as a friend. Sitting up as she approaches the bed, you note that she fusses over you like a mother would, righting your clothes and smoothing your hair down. You want to laugh, but then you remember that when you were little, your mother would have to step in to make you presentable when you’d been too rough on the playground. Your smile fades. “He’s here now, isn’t he?”

“Goddamn it,” Namjoon hisses, barreling for the door. “You could have given us a bigger heads up, Nabi.”

“That wasn’t my decision,” she barks back at him, and you blink at her in surprise. It’s not very often people can talk back to Namjoon and he’ll just let it happen. “Taehyung surprised me too when he said Kang would be here soon.”

“Let’s just go,” you sigh, getting up from the bed to follow Namjoon to the living room, Nabi not far behind. Your nerves shoot sky high as you get closer and closer to the deep voices of who you now know is your father speaking to Namjoon’s father. Two weeks ago, you’d been wiping down tables at one of your part time jobs, living off ramen noodles and sandwiches, and one more speed bump away from possibly losing the bumper to your junker car, but it had been worth it. You’d do all of it over again to take care of the most precious person to you. How your life got turned so ass backwards, you don’t know, and you’re not entirely sure you want to figure it out. 

“She hasn’t had to live up to traditions and customs,” Namjoon’s father sounds as if he’s on the verge of losing his temper. “You cannot throw this on her after she’s just learned of you!”

“That's why she should be moved under my roof!” Himchan snaps back at Mr. Kim and you pause at the entryway of the living room, neither of them even see you yet. “She can learn of those customs and traditions.”

“So you can pawn her off to some low life thug undeserving of her?” Mr. Kim scoffs. “I don’t think so. Y/N is as much a part of our family as she is of yours. Even more so since we’re the ones who have been there for her.”

“I didn’t even know she existed until Harin got sick,” Himchan mumbles, dragging his hand down his face as you finally come into view.

You sit next to Mr. Kim while Namjoon stands beside the couch and Hoseok parks himself behind it. You’re not sure where to begin or what you can even say given his position. If he’s as high up on the chain of command as Mr. Kim, then you’re pretty sure telling him to go fuck himself is off the table. You look around as if searching for something or someone, only to realize he isn’t there. “Where’s Chunghee?”

Himchan sits up straight as you finally address him, offering a polite smile in response. “Chunghee had some business to attend to overseas. As time goes on, I’m hoping your relationship will become less strained.” He frowns when you grow stiff, having misunderstood, though he’s sure the truth won’t be any better. “When I met your mother, Y/N, I fell in love with her at first sight. She didn’t know who I was or even that I was…married. My marriage had been arranged by my father, as his marriage was, and his father before him. In our life, it is rare to find and marry someone we’re in love with. We’re paired with someone we believe can carry a strong bloodline. Your brother is a product of a marriage neither I nor his mother had a true say in. He was only 10 when you were born, even younger when I started an affair with your mother. She didn’t know what kind of life I had and one day she was just gone. Somehow, she’d found out, and left town without telling me she was pregnant.”

“So, Chunghee hates me,” you gather from everything he’s said. “Because of you.”

“Yes,” Himchan admits, shame burning his throat.

Namjoon steps in front of you protectively, effectively cutting off any more access Himchan had. “Are you saying your own son is a threat? You want me to give her to you when your own son could hurt her?”

“I would never allow that,” Himchan insists, but it lands on deaf ears as Namjoon turns to take your hand, ready to drag you back to his room. “I only want a good life for her, Namjoon. I’ve only recently learned of her struggles, ones that you’ve allowed her to go through.”

“Allowed?” you question at the sheer audacity both of them have to treat you like an object rather than a person.

“I didn’t allow a fucking thing,” Namjoon interrupts and Nabi rubs at her temples in exasperation. “She wouldn’t let me help. She’s stubborn that way, but it’s what makes her so strong, Kang. Don’t think for a second I don’t know why you really want her under your roof. You already have someone lined up for her to marry, but that’s not fucking happening.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake!” Nabi throws her hands in the air, stalking to the middle of the living room and commanding attention in a way that makes you envious. “Unless we’re all forgetting that Y/N’s here, I think maybe we should ask her what she wants. Mr. Kang, I understand tradition better than anyone here, but given that she hasn’t grown up in your care or home, you can’t implement traditional values without her knowledge of it. That’s dangerous and you know it.”

“Who is it?” your voice cuts through the room, stepping around Namjoon to face your father. 

Namjoon looks at you as if you’ve grown a second head, mouth gaping open in shock. “You can’t seriously be considering this.”

“I don’t know what else to even do, Namjoon!” You throw your arms up in frustration, turning away from him with tears in your eyes. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to deal with all of this.”

“Not by entertaining this stupid bullshit.” Namjoon’s hands curl into fists and Hoseok quickly takes up the space at your side in case his friend’s temper gets the best of him. 

“That’s what I was hoping to talk to Mr. Kim about today.” Himchan faces Namjoon’s father again, taking a deep, steadying breath. “I learned about my daughter 10 years ago, Kim, when she was 18 and forced into working job after job until her fingers bled, and through all of it, your son was there. From my understanding, my father and yours had meant to work together quite some time ago and those plans fell through.”

Namjoon inhales sharply. Is Kang suggesting what Namjoon thinks he is? Could he really be handed everything he’s ever wanted right here, right now? Would you even be okay with that?

“I want him to vet Han Youngjae in exchange for discussing a new business venture that could benefit us both,” Himchan continues, sending Namjoon’s world crashing down. “You know as well as I do that the Han family has been around far longer than either of our families. Youngjae seems to be a good man, but I trust your son’s judgment, especially when it comes to Y/N. I’ve worked with the Han family for awhile now and the arrangement for my son to marry their eldest daughter is being finalized soon.”

“Then why the fuck do you need more ties into that family?” Namjoon’s tone has gone dangerously low, sending a chill down your spine, but rather than fear it’s bordering on something else entirely. “You come into her life, our lives, after she loses her mother and you want to marry her off to a family like the Hans?”

“I want to give her time to adjust to the idea,” Himchan clarifies, searching for some kind of hope that you’ll just think about it. “I truly believe—.”

“I will not entertain this idea,” Namjoon’s father stops Himchan before he can explain any further. “Besides the fact that it’s entirely absurd, Y/N has already been promised to my son.”

“I’m so fucking confused,” you say aloud without meaning to, and Nabi giggles while looping her arm through yours. 

Himchan winces at your colorful language, sighing in disappointment. “Y/N, truly, you shouldn’t speak with such foul language, it’s unbecoming.”

“How my fiancée chooses to speak is none of your business,” Namjoon defends you, quickly growing used to the idea of calling you his fiancée. It makes his chest warm and body hum with need. 

You startle, bumping against Nabi’s embrace. Namjoon’s casual use of the word “fiancee” makes your throat dry. You rather like the way it sounds, but you have to remind yourself that it’s just to get your father off your back. But then, if that were true, what was all of that back in his room? Namjoon’s been acting rather odd lately, invading your space, holding your hand, kissing your cheek. It’s enough to convince even you that he might actually have feelings for you. You let out a heavy sigh while shaking the thoughts from your head. No, Namjoon was well aware of how much you cherished your mother. He was simply helping you through the grieving process, and now with the looming threat of your father, he’s doing what’s necessary to keep you safe. 

“It’s been quite the day,” Nabi’s smooth and commanding voice cuts through the men’s argument, effectively silencing them as they all turn to stare at her. “It’s late Mr. Kang, and while we understand your concerns for tradition and the need to keep up with them, we’ve taken your proposal into consideration and have deemed it unnecessary. As Mr. Kim has already stated, Namjoon and Y/N have been promised to each other. There is no need for her to marry into the Han family.”

“Now just wait a minute,” Kang says through gritted teeth. “Custom states that the engagement requires my approval, which I’m yet to give.”

“You’ve kept tabs on us all this time,” Namjoon reminds him with a wicked smile. “Surely you’re not so naive as to misunderstand just what we’ve been up to in the night’s I’ve stayed at her home.”

“Namjoon,” you hiss, cheeks flushing at his implication. True as it may be that Namjoon has spent a considerable amount of nights at your apartment, he really only slept on the couch and the one time he nearly slept in your bed, he’d conceded and left the room. “Stop it.”

“I’m stating facts, sweetheart, nothing more.” Namjoon turns to wrap his fingers around your free arm and tug you close to his chest. His arm snakes around your waist to keep you trapped against him. Your squeak of surprise makes him chuckle low and deep, making you shiver as he skims his lips across your cheek. 

Kang curls his fingers into fists at the display. While yes, he was well aware of Namjoon’s overnight stays, he’d never seen any open displays of affection. He’s not sure if it’s because Namjoon is truly a private person, or if this entire charade is a lie. Either way, he cannot allow the opportunity to tie more of his lineage to the Han family to pass him by. He breathes in deep and exhales slowly to calm himself. “Fine,” he says while straightening the lapels of his suit jacket. “I will let this rest for now, Kim. But be warned, should I find anything false about this ‘engagement’ of yours, Y/N will live under my roof and she will marry Han.”

“You can’t—,” you begin to argue, but Taehyung beats you to it by instructing Jungkook and Jimin to escort Kang to his waiting vehicle. 

“Understand this, Kang,” Taehyung seethes while he still has Kang’s attention, “I will not tolerate your persistence of taking Y/N from underneath my roof. If, and only if, she chooses to part ways with Namjoon, I will make sure she gets far away from us and you. Trust when I say this is not a war you want with me.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Take it as you wish,” Taehyung stands tall, sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks as if to show your father that Kang isn’t nearly as in control as he believes. “But, much like Namjoon, I’m only stating facts. However, I will take into consideration another meeting with you and your son.”

“What?” Namjoon snaps, and becomes pissed when Taehyung holds his hand up to stop him from speaking further.

“I know that customs and tradition are being called into question, and while I don’t agree to forcing a marriage between the Han family and Y/N, it is my duty to consider it should any arrangements between her and Namjoon fall apart.” Taehyung frowns in your direction, knowing that all he can truly do is help Namjoon keep up appearances until this entire mess is sorted out. He can’t step in and completely dissolve whatever deal Kang has made with the Han family, but he can delay it until Namjoon can talk you into a real marriage. He hates it, and is well aware that keeping you from the Han family by forcing you into Namjoon’s family instead is rather hypocritical. He turns back to Kang and sighs in defeat, “I swear to you that I will consider it seriously. In the meantime, don’t hold your breath, Kang.”

Your jaw nearly drops to the floor with the way Taehyung dismissed your father like a child, and the fact that your father actually leaves after being waved away is even more shocking. You look to Nabi for some guidance, but she only shakes your head with a reassuring smile, leaving you to believe that things might actually turn out okay in the end.  

[shrubdaddy]

propinquity | l.greenleaf

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: propinquity | /prəˈpiNGkwədē/ | noun | the state of being close to someone or something; proximity.

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: legolas x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1500

a/n: hii, a little something that I wrote. I'm having a hard time finding motivation but hopefully this is a little something. I was hoping to get on some sort of schedule but we'll see if I can get over this stupid writer's block. copyright © |please do not repost my work.

It was a quiet afternoon, one of those rare moments you seemed to find some time for yourself.

In between the lessons and training with Erestor and Glorfindel and the afternoon teas with Bilbo, you found time slowly slipping through your fingertips. Time spent in the large library and mornings in the garden seem to have lost its magic.

You longed to explore the forest right outside of Rivendell, however, you were forbidden from wandering alone. A lack of direction and poor eyesight caused you to be banned from exploring by yourself.

Sadly, Legolas left months ago to return to the Greenwood. Your partner-in-crime had princely duties to attend to and you couldn’t help but miss the blonde elf, you’ve grown so accustomed to. And your now usual escorts, Elladan and Elrohir, were off patrolling the borders and you couldn’t count on Arwen to leave the estate.

It was his idea to take walks around the forest, growing restless from the long meetings and grey walls of the town. It only took a split second for you both to escape the third meeting of the day to run out into the forest and avoid your responsibilities. It gave you time away from the politics and people and allowed you to enjoy each others’ presence without the people's prying eyes and meddling whispers. You felt safer in the forest, safer with him.

Thinking back now, your mind wanders back to a brighter time — missing the silly stories, childish games, and mindless roaming. All these memories are left untouched in a forest you were banned from walking into. How you longed to walk the forest once again with him.

You couldn’t help but close your eyes to relive the smaller moments. Replaying the way his hand would brush against yours or how he would always linger a little closer when you decided to balance on the fallen logs or how the sun hit perfectly on his face as you lay on the field of flowers.

“Riders are here!” exclaimed a passerby.

Your eyes immediately opened and you realized you’ve completely stopped walking in the middle of the hall. Shaking your head, you rushed down the hall finding any place to hide from any breathing being.

So, you found yourself in the library. If you couldn’t be surrounded by the whimsical forest, maybe you could bury yourself in the stories surrounding you.

There was one book in particular that Arwen had recommended that you were hoping to find. According to her, it was a tragic love story that will bring any being to tears.

Breathing in the smell of old parchment and fresh ink, you walked deeper into the room finding your hiding spot for the time being. As you settle down, you begin browsing through the rows and rows of books, finally finding the section you were looking for. Annoyingly, the book was at the top of the shelf and you had to drag the single-stepping stool to even attempt reaching it.

In the midst of your focus, you didn’t hear the library doors open nor did you hear the soft steps coming toward you.

Preoccupied reaching for the book at the top of the shelf, the stepping stool was beginning to shift back and forth a little.

“Stupid, uneven stools,” you muttered to yourself.

Finding the stepping stool lacking, you pushed to your tiptoes in hopes the extra couple of inches could help just a little. At this point, you were just barely grazing the book with no grip when you felt a presence approach from behind you.

Something warm and steady brushes against your back and a small hand is lightly placed at your waist. Turning a little to the side, you find a blonde-haired elf lifting his other hand to easily grab the book you were only slightly struggling to reach. Before you could even speak.

“A single stepping stool doesn’t seem to make up for your lack of height,” he softly chuckled, his warm breath brushing your ear.

Shocked by his sudden appearance, you quickly turned around. “You’re here,” you whispered.

“Yes. I am,” he whispered back — a small grin began to form at the corner of his face.

“You’re really here?” you asked again.

“Yes, Y/n. I really am.”

You launched yourself forward out of joy and excitement, wrapping your arms around the neck of the tall elf. Shocked by the sudden contact, you felt him freeze but slowly, he wrapped his arms firmly around your waist.

Holding him just a bit tighter, you whisper, “It feels like I’ve been waiting for you to return for what seems like an eternity.”

You felt Legolas pull you closer, engulfing you in his arms, “I’m sorry I took so long.”

After a few moments, he lifts you off the stepping stool and gently sets you down on the floor. As you slowly untangle yourself from him, he lifts one hand and brushes a loose strand away from your face, his fingertips lightly grazing your cheek.

Looking down, you’re unable to meet his eyes as you feel a familiar flush cross your cheeks. Quickly, you step forward to reach for the book, however, Legolas was just a tad bit quicker. Lifting the book high above his head, he takes a quick look at the cover and you see a small grin form on his face.

“Now, Y/n, what do you have here have you here? The Tale of Aegnor and Andreth?” questioned Legolas. “A little too tragic for a beautiful day, don’t you think?”

Using the stepping stool to your advantage, you jumped up and barely grabbed the book from his hand.

“It was a recommendation from Arwen,” you muttered, you hopped down and began walking towards the window at the end of the row. “Days have become a little dull, so I’ve taken up some extra reading if you must know.”

“Ah, yes. Suffering without me, aren’t you?” he implied.

“Hardly,” you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “How’d you come to find me?”

“A feeling,” he said with a knowing smile. “And quite possibly, a grumbling Glorfindel. Missing training?”

“The opposite really, Glorfindel has stressed the importance of resting and training and I’ve truly taken his words to heart you quipped.

You glance behind to see if he was following you and sure enough he is behind, smiling down at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Reaching the bright window pouring in sunlight, you can finally get a good glance at the traveling prince. Looking at him now it was completely unfair how utterly beautiful he is. After riding from Mirkwood to Rivendell for weeks, the elf seems as breathtaking and polished as any other day.

You turn back towards the window, staring out to see the beauty of Rivendell. You can see the endless forest and glistening waterfall as the sun sets.

“What are you doing here?” you quietly asked.

You see his brows crease and you couldn’t tell if it was worry or determination that crossed his face. You couldn’t understand why but Legolas was looking anywhere but you.

“I came back,” he spoke simply.

“What do you mean? Is everything okay?” you questioned him.

“There were urgent matters that I needed to attend to but it’s all fine,” he answered quickly. In all your years, Legolas has never looked so worried. He wouldn’t look you in the eyes, his hands were behind his back and he looked as if he needed to run away. Something was amiss.

“It doesn’t seem as if it’s fine,” you panicked. “Manwë's breath, Legolas. I’ve never seen you look so worried… If we head to Lord Elrond's study right now, I’m sure we can catch him before?”

Feeling a surge of energy and determination, you grabbed his hand and began to head towards the front of the library.

“Y/n — stop for a moment,” you hear him say.

“Legolas, it’s fine. It’s an urgent matter. Lord Elrond will understand. We must hurry," you urged on.

Briskly walking through the rows and rows of books, you finally reach the entrance to the library and head for the door.

“Y/n, stop!” he demanded.

Suddenly, you feel a strong pull back as you fell into Legolas’s arms.

“Legolas!” you gasped.

“Just stop — the matter was urgent, yes. However, it has nothing to do with Lord Elrond.” he spoke calmly.

Losing your patience, you pull your arm back and glare at your wrist.

“What urgent matter required you to come to Rivendell then?” you pressed.

"I missed Rivendell. I missed our friends. I missed the forest. I missed our walks... I missed you." he whispered. "I came back to you."

[mischievouschan4]

WIP Wednesday - Lawyer!AU (Obikin)

Trying to keep this up for the third week in a row! Another rendition of “what I’d like to write as a full fic but don’t have the brain space, so it’s just going to be classified as a WIP and posted on Wednesday” lol 🙈

Get ready for allllllll the fluff!

It’s Obikin this week (SFW)~~

Anakin snuggles into Obi-Wan's side after a long day of packing as they settle in for the night. They're getting ready to head out on a two week vacation abroad in the morning, and it had taken FOREVER for Anakin to pick out their outfits.

We need to be coordinated for the cute photos, babe!

Obi-Wan had nodded sagely and obediently went back to organizing their toiletries, leaving Anakin to fret work in peace. Divide and conquer and all that.

But it's finally sorted now, and Anakin just wants to enjoy some nice cuddles before sleeping.

In bed, Obi-Wan shifts obligingly to accommodate Anakin's bulk and turns his head to kiss the younger man's temple on autopilot. It warms Anakin to the core, butterflies fluttering in his stomach at the thought of how sweet Obi-Wan is with him...even if said man is still tapping away at his phone when Anakin is clearly vying for his attention...

Anakin stifles a sigh. By now, he is used to this to a certain extent, but it definitely took a LOT of heated discussion (read: crying and yelling) and emotional support (read: Padme frantically playing middle woman) at the beginning of their relationship before Anakin could even comprehend why this was an issue.

You see, Obi-Wan just so happens to be one of the most sought after corporate liability lawyers in all of Coruscant City. His employer, Jedi Inc, represents almost 80% of the HoloNet 500's top companies, and he is a busy busy man. And unlike Anakin, a senior test pilot for the Republic Engineering Corporation, Obi-Wan doesn't have the privilege of just leaving his work at work. Anakin has spent many a night bringing snacks and hot tea to their home office while Obi-Wan toils away into the early hours of the morning.

Ever the caring partner, Obi-Wan is, of course, apologetic about his inability to give Anakin his undivided attention all the time, but it’s only because Obi-Wan is proud of his work and wants to give it his best effort. It had taken some time for Anakin to come to terms with this aspect of how Obi-Wan wants to prioritize his time. But on the flip side, Obi-Wan has also made progress in leaps and bounds when it comes to adjusting that mindset, having come to the realization that there is indeed much more to life than winning cases. Obi-Wan has the sexiest man in Coruscant in his bed for Force's sake, a fact he is incredibly grateful for.

"Are you seriously working right now?" Anakin asks with a pout.

Obi-Wan pauses and turns to kiss Anakin again, this time on the younger man's cheek, and he sighs, "No, darling, believe it or not. I'm actually just trying to look for the email with our chauffeur's information. They're supposed to pick us up once we land, but I didn’t see the booking confirmation come through."

It’s Anakin's turn to sigh. "Did you use your work email again?"

Obi-Wan chuckles sheepishly. Even though he checks his work email religiously, Obi-Wan still isn’t able to keep up with everything, and sometimes things get lost when his executive assistant files things away in the complicated system she has going on. It’s far too late in the night to text her to ask where she might have saved this one.

Anakin tugs the phone out of Obi-Wan's hands and starts to do his own search. (Obi-Wan never lets Anakin look at his work email from his laptop, but the phone screen is small enough that the previews don't show any confidential information, so he allows it sparingly.)

Anakin tries a few keywords:

"confirmation"

"reservation"

Nothing relevant comes up (mostly just hotel and flight bookings for Obi-Wan's numerous work trips). But then he tries:

"receipt"

And a single subject line at the bottom of the screen catches his eye.

[Order fulfilled] Final receipt for your custom Cartier order No. 501212...

Anakin's fingers freeze over the touch screen. Because holy shit. HOLY SHIT. His breath catches in his throat.

Anakin will fully admit that he only knows the bare minimum about carats and bands and shapes and luster, but even he recognizes the brand name of one of the top jewelry companies in the world. And a custom order at this stage of their relationship can mean only one thing...

Okay, so it’s not completely out of the blue, the two of them have talked about marriage seriously many times, and it's clear that it's more a matter of "when" and not "if" for both of them. They've even casually looked at some rings together. But!!! To know that it's going to be a sure thing? That forever is going to become more that just a possibility? Anakin's heart beat thunders in his ears.

As quickly as he can get over his shock, Anakin deletes the word 'receipt' and tries 'pick-up' instead. There are a few results that look promising, so Anakin passes the phone back to Obi-Wan with slightly shaky hands and tries his best to pretend like nothing's happened. He doesn't want Obi-Wan to feel bad that his surprise is ruined, after all.

But Anakin has never been good at concealing his emotions, especially from the people he cares about.

So after a few moments of tension-filled silence where Anakin knows and Obi-Wan knows that Anakin knows and Anakin knows that Obi-Wan knows that Anakin knows, he breaks out into the widest grin that's ever graced his face. Anakin smiles until his cheeks can't possibly stretch any further and an ecstatic squeal escapes him.

He turns so that he's laying half on top of Obi-Wan and gazing into his lover's anxious face. Anakin can't help it, he's just so happy! Obi-Wan loves HIM! He wants Anakin! Forever! No returns allowed! Anakin can feel his cheeks flushing a bright red in his excitement.

Despite Obi-Wan’s initial dismay at the untimely spoiler, the sight of the younger man's unfiltered joy washes away any misgivings Obi-Wan has, and he slowly relaxes, accepting the fact that the tooka cat is officially out of the crate now.

"Is it here?" Anakin asks in a whisper, practically vibrating with anticipation.

Obi-Wan chuckles and nods, starting to feel his own excitement build.

"Is it somewhere in our bags?" Anakin follows-up.

Another nod, this time accompanied by a sly grin.

Anakin squeals again and buries his face in Obi-Wan's neck. The younger man kicks his feet adorably, making a mess of their shared duvet, but unable to contain the adrenalin coursing through him.

Obi-Wan wraps his arms around Anakin's shaking body and rubs a soothing hand up and down the younger man's broad back. He can tell Anakin is happy, and that's all Obi-Wan can ever wish for.

"Okay," Anakin says after he's calmed down a little. "Okay, okay! I just want you to know, I love you so much, Obi-Wan. So so so much. And, I promise I won't ask about anything else, but just in case, I want you to know that I love you and that I can't wait."

A matching grin graces Obi-Wan's features at Anakin's confession, and his eyes crinkle in the way that indicates he's smiling a broad, genuine smile. "I know, sweetheart, and I love you too."

---

Everything ends up working out with their chauffer.

And Obi-Wan doesn't wait long to pop the question once they land at their destination, knowing Anakin will appreciate having the rest of their trip to maximize the celebrations and take advantage of every opportunity to show off to anyone and everyone who would give him the time of day.

Obi-Wan had spent months organizing with the resort they are staying at to arrange for a private beachside proposal. Everything had been so perfectly coordinated. Does it matter that the whole operation was spoiled by an email snafu? Obi-Wan refuses to let it. It’s all about the mindset, and if Anakin is happy, then Obi-Wan is happy too.

So on the second day of their trip, after a day of swimming in the beach, Obi-Wan tells Anakin to freshen up before dinner and smiles enigmatically at the younger man's pleading eyes. Patience, he'd whispered and patted Anakin's bum to get him moving.

When it gets closer to sunset, Obi-Wan threads Anakin's fingers in between his own and leads his love down a secret staircase at the back of the hotel property. It leads down to a small private beach with white sand and picturesque rolling waves. Their way down is lined with sweet smelling flower bushes and affords them an exquisite view of the glittering water at golden hour.

Anakin looks positively ethereal in the sunlight, and Obi-Wan wishes that he could capture the image forever (before he remembers that he'd hired a whole team of videographers to record the entire thing from multiple angles and reminds himself to just enjoy the moment). Obi-Wan was worried he would be more disappointed that the element of surprise was missing, but in actuality, knowing the ending affords both of them the opportunity to fully appreciate every detail along the way without any distracting nervousness.

When they reach the sand, they toe off their shoes, and Obi-Wan leads them to a picnic area set up with fairy lights, a romantic dinner with finger foods, and flowers, lots and lots of flowers. (Anakin grew up in an arid, desert city, so flowers are now one of his favorite things). There's a bluetooth speaker hidden somewhere playing a relaxing instrumental track.

As Anakin is busy admiring the spread, Obi-Wan gets down on one knee and presents the innocuous red velvet box that has sparked so much anticipation over the last few days. He holds it open and watches Anakin's face light up when he turns around, not at the sight of the ring in his hands, Obi-Wan notes distantly, but at Obi-Wan himself. Tears gather in Anakin's eyes as he gazes, riveted, into Obi-Wan's face.

"Anakin-"

"YES!" the younger man shouts preemptively.

Obi-Wan can't help but laugh. "I haven't even asked you anything!"

"Sorry!" Anakin apologizes even though he clearly doesn't mean it at all. He's still smiling giddily and holding a hand over his mouth as if he needs the physical reminder to keep quiet.

Obi-Wan clears his throat to stifle his grin and tries again. "Anakin, my darling," Obi-Wan says, voice suddenly rough as he fights off the urge to cry as well. Everything is just so perfect. "You've been the Light of my life, my Chosen one, from the moment we met. You've stuck with me through all the ups and downs these past seven years, and I have felt our love grow at every turn. You are my Peace, my Freedom, and I can't imagine a future without you. Will you do me the honor of being my husband?"

"Yes!" Anakin shouts again as he jumps up and down, crashing down into Obi-Wan to hug him before getting up to jump some more, yelling his enthusiastic "I do's" the entire time.

Obi-Wan wipes his eyes and carefully cradles Anakin's left hand to slip the ring on. It's a bit of a struggle with how much Anakin is moving, but it's a perfect fit.

Once Anakin sees the band slide on, he full-on tackles the older man, barreling into Obi-Wan with arms and legs wrapping around his lover and knocking them both to the ground. Obi-Wan isn't sure that Anakin has even looked at the design of the ring once. Silly boy, Obi-Wan thinks to himself, but it’s just like Anakin to overlook the little details in the hurricane of his enthusiasm. It’s alright, Obi-Wan knows. We’ll look at it more closely together later. He’d designed it especially for them, after all. A pair of wings, twined around each other as they circle the star in the center, a gorgeously inset marquise diamond.

"I'm so happy, Obi-Wan," Anakin cries. "This was so perfect, oh my god, I'm so happy I could die."

Obi-Wan sits both of them up and kisses his now fiancé once. Twice. Before pulling back to admire how absolute bliss looks on his lover's radiant face. Stunning. Just stunning. The bright flush of Anakin's cheeks, his golden halo of hair, his sparkling blue eyes. Obi-Wan can't help but kiss Anakin again.

"There is one more thing," Obi-Wan says as he gets to his feet, extending a hand for Anakin. "Before you hypothetically die, I require your signature."

Anakin clings to Obi-Wan's arm as they make their way back to the picnic area where, along with all the food on the table, Anakin also notices a rather large, flat wooden box.

Obi-Wan props the lid open and Anakin throws his head back, practically howling with laughter, at the contents inside. It's so Obi-Wan that Anakin's chest hurts from the fondness that threatens to burst forth, too big and too exuberant to be contained by his rib cage any longer. It's a contract. For their engagement.

"Darling, you must understand," Obi-Wan says, mirth evident in his eyes and bubbling up in his voice. "I'll need more than a verbal commitment for your agreement to stand, only a contract can be binding."

Anakin reads the words on the single sheet of paper inside the box as he leans his weight against Obi-Wan. His Obi-Wan. His fiancé!!!

"On this day, the __ of __ _____ , this Exclusive Engagement Agreement ("The Engagement") is hereby entered into by the Promisor, the undersigned, who does commit to a concordance of marriage with the Promisee ("Obi-Wan Kenobi") upon presentation and exchange of goods and services ("The Engagement Ring" and "The Proposal," respectively). The Promisor does further agree to participate in a binding ceremony to legally recognize the union of the two individuals, the Promisor and the Promisee, within an appropriate timeframe deemed acceptable by both parties at a later date."

There is a line at the bottom for Anakin to print and sign his name. The pen is also provided.

Anakin does his best to scribble today’s date and his signature on the paper given that one arm seems to be permanently wrapped around Obi-Wan, and he turns to kiss the older man again as soon as he finishes. It's almost an addiction at this point. He wants to kiss Obi-Wan forever.

A thought occurs to Anakin suddenly, and he thinks of the perfect way to let Obi-Wan know just how much he appreciates and respects that law will be an irrevocable part of their lives. He’s picked up a thing or two over the years.

Anakin pulls back from their kiss reluctantly and says with a smirk, "Mr. Kenobi, thank you for the thorough preparation of today's paperwork. Before we conclude our business, I must insist on receiving a copy of this contract for my own records."

Delight flits across Obi-Wan's face as he gives a hearty laugh of his own. "That's very good, sweetheart. We'll make a lawyer of you yet!"

---

Today’s drabble is inspired by:

this Tumblr post

a recent conversation I had with my lawyer friend about her brother’s engagement (how saying “yes” is only a verbal commitment)

the last chapter of my holy grail Suits fanfic, Pizza and a Movie, re: asking for a signed copy of the documentation

FYI, I am by no means a lawyer, so please don't come at me for my sad attempt at legalese.

Also, please let me know if you found some easter eggs throughout LOL there were some ironic ones in Obi-Wan’s proposal speech 🤣

[ugotnojamzzz]

Work in Progress Pt.2

Word Count: 1.1k

Pairing: exhusband!Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst, Hurt, exhusband!Jungkook

Synopsis: Trying to navigate your relationship with your ex-husband is tough. It gets a little tougher when said ex-husband brings a date to your mutual friends’ wedding.

Disclaimer: English isn’t my native language, so I apologize in advance for mistakes and awkward wordings to come.

"So," Y/N spoke up, her expression blank as they all observed the unfolding scene; a lovely young woman being gently guided to one of the pews by none other than her ex-husband. "Jungkook brought a date."

Jin, standing nearby, couldn't hide his surprised expression. "You didn't know?"

Y/N's annoyance was palpable as she replied, "Well, how on earth would I know if none of you guys told me? It's not like he and I stay up all night chatting on the phone."

Hobi, always the peacemaker, offered a conciliatory comment. "Sorry, we didn't think you'd mind."

"I don't. I just—a heads-up would've been nice," Y/N replied, her voice tinged with frustration. Her gaze shifted to the floor in an attempt to conceal her agitation. "Anyway, it's all good. Did you manage to get Minju's uncle from the airport, this morning?" she asked Jin, trying to change the topic to their wedding missions.

"Yep, he's currently sat third row," the conversation continued to flow freely in the group, as awkwardness subsided, leaving room for excitement.

Jimin, noticing Y/N still appeared lost in thought after a little while nudged her discreetly, "you okay?" Y/N looked up, her sulking expression fading.

 "Of course, I just- kinda wish I'd brought a date now," she admitted with a playful pout. Jimin, always ready to be the gallant one, seized the opportunity.

"Well, it looks like Soojun stood me up anyway. I'll be your date, Milady." Y/N's eyebrows raised in amusement.

"Sure, a pity date, now that doesn't make me feel pathetic," she replied, her tone dripping with irony.

"Hey! I'll have you know I'm a freaking catch," Jimin declared with mock indignation. Before the banter could continue, a member of security entered the room.

"Jimin, there's some girl at the entrance saying she's your date. Name's Sooji, but she's not on the list."

 "Sooji?" Jimin repeated, a hint of confusion in his tone. "I could've sworn her name was Soojun. Anyway, yeah, let her in, Woo."

Y/N interrupted the exchange, her voice tinged with curiosity. "Uh? What happened to you being my date?" Jimin grinned playfully, his ego momentarily unchecked.

 "Well, I can't help it. I'm so popular among the ladies."

"You—" Y/N began, but her words were abruptly cut off by Namjoon, who had decided to intervene in their banter.

 "Alright,” he stated firmly, his gaze shifting between Y/N and Jimin, “not happening. I'm not having one of your flings in my wedding pictures."

"She's not a fling," Jimin defended himself, his tone more serious. "I'll have you know we shared a very special weekend, and Soojun may just-."

"Sooji," Yoongi corrected, interjecting with a sly smile.

 "Sooji," Jimin repeated, his eyes closing in frustration, knowing he had just undermined his entire point, "Sooji may just be the love of my life," he recovered, as Y/N offered a knowing smile.

"Whatever, Jimin-ah. Woo," Namjoon addressed the security guard, "do not let that girl in." A brief pause followed, a moment of uncertainty hanging in the air. Then, through a window, they all saw it—a girl, wearing a scandalously revealing dress, was being dragged away by security. Her screams filled the air, creating a chaotic scene that sharply contrasted with the elegant ambiance of the venue.

 Everyone in the room turned to look at Jimin, their expressions a mix of amusement and resigned familiarity. Jimin had a reputation for attracting unconventional partners, and this time was no different. "What?" Jimin asked, adopting an innocent expression as he met their gazes. "It's not my fault I have terrible taste in women."

 "Alright, everyone, please get in position," Eunhyuk's voice interrupted the prevailing silence. He strode forward, his sweeping hands guiding the wedding party into formation. "Every groomsman, stand next to your bridesmaid." Everyone complied without hesitation, aligning themselves into a neat line, with Jimin standing right beside Y/N.

Amidst the anticipation, Y/N broke the silence, her voice a hushed whisper. "So," she began, her gaze fixed on the approaching ceremony, "how long have they been together?" Jimin, momentarily taken aback by the question, furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Huh?" he asked, his attention now on Y/N.

"Jungkook and his date," Y/N clarified, her curiosity piqued.

 Jimin offered a shrug, "I'm not sure," he admitted with a thoughtful expression. "It's probably not too serious, though." Their conversation was almost immediately derailed by Taehyung speaking out from behind them.

 "I mean," he began, "he did bring her to Namjoon-hyung's wedding so—ouch!" Jimin had swiftly stepped back on Tae's foot, effectively cutting off any further discussion. A deadly glare followed to emphasize his point; the action accompanied by a reassuring squeeze of Y/N's arm. It was an unconscious gesture, a silent message of comfort passing between friends.

 Y/N couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of Jimin's protective antics. "Oh my," she remarked, her eyes dancing with amusement. "Will you cut it out? I'm fine. It's good to see he's moved on. It's great, in fact. It just feels weird, you know, seeing him with someone else."

Just as Y/N spoke, Jungkook approached, moving with a sense of purpose. He positioned himself right in front of the pair, standing beside his assigned bridesmaid.

"Hey," he greeted Y/N with a slight nod, his voice soft and friendly.

 "Hi," Y/N replied in a shy breath.

Eunhyuk seized the moment of silence to regain control of the situation. "Alright, everybody," he announced with authority, "it's time." His words echoed with a sense of urgency. "Groom and best man, let's get you to the altar." He quickly herded Namjoon and Jin into the venue, ensuring they were on their way. Turning his attention back to the wedding party, he continued, "As for the wedding party, every groomsman stick to his bridesmaid. And please remember, Mrs. Kim will have my head if the pictures aren't perfect, so look alive, people. This isn't a wake."

The anticipation in the room was palpable as the wedding party prepared for the beginning of the ceremony.

 Jimin couldn't resist a teasing comment as he noticed Y/N's towering heels. "Gee, could your heels be any higher? I look like an imp next to you."

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. "You're still taller than me."

"By like, half and inch," Jimin replied with a sly grin. He paused briefly before adding, "Maybe you could switch with this- delightful young woman over here." His eyes playfully lingered on Jungkook's assigned bridesmaid, suggesting mischief.

Y/N immediately tensed, perfectly manicured nails painfully clutching Jimin’s bicep as she harshly whispered, "say another word, and I swear you'll get my very high heels somewhere you do not want them."

“Message received,” he mumbled with a smirk.

As the string quartet began to play, a hauntingly beautiful melody filled the air, and everyone's shoulders straightened as the grand doors leading into the venue swung open.

Showtime.

__________________________

Hope you liked it! Don't hesitate to interact, the following parts will be published soon since the chapters are short. xxx

[hotxcheeto]

hey! can we get an Ellie x reader Modern AU and the reader is Jesse/dina's roommate and basically invite Ellie for a hangout and through out the whole thing is just Ellie and the reader flirting? ⁉️

━ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄?

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Ellie Williams x G/n!Reader 

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Cursing, fluff, mentions of puke at the very end ( VERY brief ), alcohol drinking, weed usage ( all of the age ), flirting

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ? - Yeah/Nope

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - I hate this, and I'm so sorry this took so long I haven't been doing the best mentally so I'm proud of myself for at least writing something I hope you enjoy I put everything into this lmao!! thank you darling <3

𝗔𝗨 - Modern !

REBLOGS GREATLY APPRECIATED

You didn't usually do this and you were beginning to regret have done it. Dina and you were opposites, it made for having a fun time always and doing stuff you'd never imagined ever doing until you met her.

But her friends were another story.

You didn't know them, and they weren't exactly the most excited to meet you either. All talking and laughing back and forth about stories you had no involvement in while you stayed sitting quietly on the loveseat farthest from the front door.

Resting your head on your knuckles while nursing a bottle of beer, hoping that Dina would forget you were there or fall asleep so that you could sneak off back to your room.

That was until there was another knock at the door, the clock nearing two in the morning.

You'd thought they'd all arrived. But no, there was another.

"It's Ellie!" Dina skipped off the couch and to the door, bothering a second of her time to glance through the peephole to confirm it before ripping the door open into the quiet hallway.

"Hey." The stranger waltzed in, holding a plastic grocery bag of stuff in one hand and her phone in the other. The keys attached to her belt loop jingling when she moved quickly to greet the rest of the group, meeting your eyes for a moment until you hurriedly avoided them.

Instead focusing on the TV playing Scream to keep you busy from the pull you had to leave and go watch The L Word for the 300th time in a row.

But you couldn't ignore the girl for long, feeling the seat beside you sink and her thigh bump yours as she sat down. Taking a hit from the joint being passed around the room that made your nose burn and the room fogged over.

"Want it?" You turned when her hand tapped your upper arm, shaking your head with a polite smile. "No thank you." It was so quiet she barely heard you, your head swiveling back to the TV while Ellie stared at your side profile.

"Not a smoker?" She asked handing it off, gaining your attention, eyes meeting hers for the third time of the night and each time her breath felt like it stopped in her throat.

"Not tonight. Just not feelin' it I guess." You shrugged, your glazed irises giving away the light buzz the beer was giving you.

"I get it. I'm Ellie." "Y/n. I'm Dina's roommate."

Ellie nodded.

"Yeah she told us about you, said you were the 'perfect roommate' Jesse thought she was gonna break up with him for you." Ellie laughed, cracking open a beer that Dina's boyfriend handed her, hearing you giggle quietly to yourself.

"Yeah, we've been roommates for a while now." You said, shifting awkwardly while messing with your fingers. She hummed. "Well if she told me you were pretty I would've dressed nicer."

Ellie nonchalantly spoke, taking a gulp from the bottle while you tried to pick yourself up after you stumbled over your words, ignoring how hot your cheeks burned and your stomach imploded.

"But nope." She teased, continuing to make that flustered smile grow across your face while you avoided her stare.

"I wouldn't say you look half bad."

You were surprised at your own forwardness, dripping with false confidence while continued looking at your drink in your hand. Gaze flickering to her when she laughed with a nod.

"Thanks."

For a moment Ellie didn't look away, staring intently at you as you drank again from your bottle, trying to ignore her stupid smile that made you want to never stop talking to her just to see it.

"What's your favorite scary movie?" She copied the line as it was said on screen, getting a little grin out of you while you rolled your eyes. "Scream, and yours?" "Texas Chainsaw Massacre, or Saw, I like the gore."

You scoffed. "Neve Campbell is too hot for me to hate it." "Eh, Jennifer Tilly anyday." She swore she seen your face light up at that, nodding with bright eyes. "Now that I can agree with you on."

It went back to silence, turning to look at the TV once more, that was until Ellie's thigh bumped you once again. Getting you to turn your head to look at her, but her eyes were on the TV.

"Sorry about those morons." She then said, nodding to her friends. "Oh no, they're fine. But I don't remember any of their names." You shook your head. "Trust me, they most likely don't remember their own."

"Mm, if only."

The room tasted like weed, the entire apartment foggy and dark, the only light coming from a few lamps creating a yellow light.

"They don't mean to leave you out, y'know. Their just dumbasses when they're drunk."

You looked at her weird, unaware of how lonely you probably looked sitting alone and preferring to watch the movie put on as background noise instead of talking.

"Oh, no, it's fine." "No, someone like you shouldn't sit alone." You raised an eyebrow. "Someone like me?" "You're nice to talk to, that's all." She shrugged, eyes trudging over your form making your face burn once more.

"So are you." "Thanks. You'd be surprised at how many would disagree." You playfully hit her shoulder, shaking your head with disagreement. "No way. I like talking to you." "For the twenty minutes I could show up."

You grumbed with a roll of your eyes, deciding on changing it up.

"Where do you work?" "The tattoo shop down the street.. two years now." You glanced down to her black rolled up sleeve, a tattoo half visible from the way it sat on her forearm.

"Wanna see?" Your eyes shot up to her once more, unaware that you were staring before a shy smile crossed your lips. "I–" Without another word Ellie rolled her sleeve up more showing off the moth and fern duo, twisting her forearm to give you a better angle.

"Does it have any meaning?" You asked, running your eyes over it, putting your hand above it to touch it before you froze. Looking at her for permission. "I'm adopted. Joel, the guy who adopted me, had this guitar with a moth on it. I loved that thing, still have it."

Your nail tickled her skin over the line of ink while you listened to her, humming at her answer.

"Wanted something that reminded me of him. It's not everyday teenagers get out of their foster homes before they turn eighteen."

"That's sweet." You pulled away allowing her to fix her sleeve, connecting her gaze to yours again. "Besides it looks good on you." She snorted.

"Do you have any?" You shook your head. "No, not yet. Been thinking about it." Ellie laid her head against her knuckles, leaning against the back of the couch.

"You should come in, I'll give you one." "How much?" "I'll give you a discount." You laughed, assuming it was a joke but she only stared, admiring your face. "Shut it. I'm paying full price." "You're pretty, pretty people don't pay full price."

She paused, "Especially if the artists thinks so too."

Your eyebrows unintentionally raised, laughing slightly.

"Well aren't you a flirt." "I try."

"Alright but Ellie, this is a make or break question."

"Well shit, lay it on me."

You took in a deep breath.

"What's your favorite video game?" "Mortal Kombat or Gears of War." "Hm, doesn't give me 'I'll ruin your life' vibes." With a laugh she watched your drink in thought, licking your lips before you hummed.

"I'm guessing that's a good thing?" "Anything that isn't 'I don't like video games' is a good answer." Agreeing, she nodded. "Hm, I like it." "Oh really?" You shook your head very sure of your reply.

It was then you were interrupted, her friends calling for her to leave, needing her to order the cars.

All too drunk to do it themselves making you laugh.

"Shit. So I win?" "Yes, and your prize before you leave?" "To hang out with you, one on one." You tilted your head, a bit confused. "As in... a date?"

"Tomorrow night?" She didn't confirm it, but you knew it. "Not sure, I'd have to check my schedule." You rested your chin on your hand, cheekily smiling at the girl while she made a face.

"Yeah, yeah. C'mon, if you hate me you can sick Dina on me." You laugh once more, looking over at the drunk girl falling asleep on the couch.

"Hm, I like that idea." "Oh c'mon!" "What? Dina's great when she's mad."

They called for her once more, Ellie getting up from the couch but confirming the date nonetheless. Determined to get the details before she was hurried off by her friends.

Nora complaining her head hurt.

"Fine, it's a date, tomorrow at the bar down the street across from your shop. That's if we both remember in the morning." "I'll be counting down the minutes."

"Oh yeah?" "Yeah."

They hurried her again, Abby shoving her towards them.

You were both broken from your conversation looking at a very drunk Jesse standing near the door, the rest of her friends trying to stand up from the ground. Laughing and giggling at their fails.

"Tomorrow, seven, on the dot." "On the dot." You laughed. "Good. Works for me." "Okay."

And with that she was ushered out the door, making you laugh the entire time she fought her drunk buddies.

Silence falling over the apartment leaving your heart to be the only sound in your ears besides the quiet movie.

"I'm gonna puke." "Dina don't!"

[paradox-n-bedrock]

Hey! I saw throughout some of your tags that you got to see both Macbeth and The Enfield Haunting! (to which I'm insanely jealous, please hand over your memories to me at your earliest convenience!) What did you think of them??

Oh hi!!

The Enfield Haunting was enjoyable. Reviews for it have been overly harsh, for the most part, and I think part of that might be the genre bias horror often faces. The dialogue is clunky, particularly in the beginning, but I can say it's a fun show if you're a Conjuring, Enfield Poltergeist, or general haunted history fan. It presents the supernatural influence vs troubled children aspect in a balanced way, as is necessary for this plot. It also builds tension rather effectively once it gets going, while letting Catherine punctuate it with moments of lightness and her usual impeccable timing. There are some really good parts where a theme seemed to come together of this overwhelmed woman dealing with a rotating cycle of overbearing men (invasive investigators, infatuated neighbor, disrespectful ex-husband, and the poltergeist, of course) making nuisances of themselves in her home while she's just trying to push through each day without losing herself or her children to their collective unhappiness. If the theme had carried through more cohesively, it would have been a strong play. Unfortunately, I was left yearning for a bit more of that story, as it gets messy and lost maybe two thirds of the way though when the focus shifts to the investigator. But mainly, Catherine is so, so talented. She carries the whole thing on her back, with some help from the young actress who plays a very creepy Janet. It's hard to take your eyes off of her as Peggy, even when she's harried and anxious or reacting in furious silence to the action happening on the other side of the stage. She just... draws your gaze. And when she steels her spine to stand up for her family and her space, she's positively luminous. Plus there's an unexpected delight in a couple of scenes where Catherine sings Only Wanna Be With You--very sweetly, just a bar or two--and my heart felt like it was going to fucking burst. Hello, her voice... I need her to do another musical, preferably one we get a soundtrack to.

And she's so kind at the stage door. It was a two show day and she had a con the next morning but she still took the time to speak to every single person that was waiting there.

__

Macbeth, I wasn't carrying even the slightest hope of seeing but then I was able to get a standing ticket in my cart while on the flight there (though I had to let it go) and realized my years of stalking concert presales were about to come in handy. Ironically, my partner was the one who did snag the tickets two days later. I... actually ended up with a first row seat, though she was in the standing section. But that's just me rambling about the process because I still can't believe it worked out the way it did.

I'm not even sure what to say about the show itself. The whole cast is phenomenal. The production is conceptually very cool. The audio tricks they play with the witches--via a headset for each audience member and the eerie sense of movement and foreboding conveyed by bilateral audio--plus the starkness of the empty white stage and simple dark costuming just work. The contrast of the blood when David is centerstage, distressed and panting as he washes it away, feels poignant rather than pretentious. He's captivating the whole way through, but especially then, when he temporarily strips away the ambition along with his stained clothes to reveal the broken and guilty thing underneath. There's nothing like how DT delivers Shakespeare--the meaning flows out of him as naturally as the words themselves and it's incredibly approachable without losing any of its gravitas. The dynamic between the leads is atypical in a really lovely way. David's Macbeth and Cush's Lady Macbeth come across more like codependent partners and ruthless accomplices than a greedy but hesitant royal and his calculating wife egging him on. He looks to her for support rather than a push to kill Duncan, and the adoration between them is palpable, even as they each deteriorate in their own ways. I walked out of this show feeling so deeply affected, it was like a religious experience.

(Macbeth also feels very gender, which shouldn't be a surprise to anyone who's a fan of DT's Benedict, though this is obviously in a very different way. As does Malcolm, played by Ros Watt--who's non-binary--and Ross, played by Moyo Akandé. I adore the whole cast, honestly.)

[queenvidal]

The Girl Who Never Cries

Negan x Reader (Rick's Daughter)

(Not my gif - found it on pinterest. If it's urs, contact me for proper credit)

Chapter 7: Soft Spot, Boss? (END)

Chapter Summary: Alexandrias supplies are dwindling very fast, leaving you vulnerable to an offer Negan wants to make.

Wordcount: 2189

Notes: I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes or wrong spellings, English isn't my first language. - Part 1 of the The One And Only Series - Takes place during the beginning of season 7.

Chapter Index: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6

Next Part / Masterlist / Negan x Rick's Daughter Series

“Ah, shit!” You curse under your breath. Small droplets of blood are seeping through the cuts on your fingertips. Instinctively you lick the blood away before wiping them off on your jacket.

You're tinkering on an old and rusty piece of metal for the wall. The rain and summer heat weathered down some pieces that you and a few others are repairing now. Michael looks at you from over his shoulder and you cast him a warning glare.

He’s been one of the town's engineers, responsible for the maintenance and expansion of the wall. Your people were not thrilled about having him walking around, but you needed his expertise. While trying to concentrate on your tasks, you keep watching him ever so often from out of the corner of your eyes. Michonne is watching him as well, ready to take action at any moment, walking up and down behind him.

You try to return to your work, but your focus isn't where it should be. Michael is not the only thing disturbing you. Ever since the strange encounter with Negan and Dwight three weeks ago, you are struggling further and further to keep concentrated on the most mundane tasks.

Today it seems to be particularly bad. It’s pickup day again and the constant noise of Negan's minions only contributes to the problem. And the unsettling feeling of their bosses eyes on you doesn't help, either. 

Maybe you’re just being paranoid.

You took Negan's warning very seriously. For the last few weeks, you stood under the Saviors radar, being either on a run or staying in your room during their pickups. You figured not crossing paths with any of them would be for the best, knowing your tamper and how easy you are to wind up.

But you were needed today, so you joined the small group on the wall.

A plate with colorless peas and carrots appears to your left, tearing your mind away again. You turn your head to find Carl placing a fork on the wall piece as well.

You smile softly at him. "Thank you, but I've already eaten this morning."

"Lair," Carl scowls at you, however it's lighthearted. "Olivia said you were absent at the food distribution this morning."

You roll your eyes and whisper more to yourself than to him, "Such a telltale."

"Y/N, come on." Carl looks at you with pleading eyes. "You've already skipped meals yesterday."

You consider his request for a moment, before reaching for the plate and fork. "Fine." With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you pull Carl on his arm closer to you. Quickly, you plant a faint kiss on his cheek and he squeals.

“Ew!” Carl wipes his cheek with the sleeve of his pullover. Despite his display of irritation, you can’t keep from huffing a laugh. You’ll never stop annoying your little brother.

“Do you have guard shift later?” He asks you, still rubbing his cheek.

You nod at him. “Yeah, I took the night shift.”

Carl rolls his eyes at you. “That's gonna be the third night in a row.”

“I’m fine, Carl.” You quickly answer his unvoiced question.

“You’re bad at lying and you know that.” He sounds hurt, he hates being lied to and you wonder why you even tried, to him you’re like an open book. In the end, he is just concerned and you love him for that, but you don’t want him to worry.

He knows about your insomnia, but he also knows you well enough not to push it. If you wanted to talk, you would. But he doesn’t like you grinding until you eventually pass out from exhaustion. Wouldn't be the first time for you to do that. 

Annoyed, your little brother moves on and back to the pantry, leaving you to your work and late breakfast. After your first bite, you realize just how hungry you’ve been the whole day. With your thoughts all over the place and your hands always working, you simply didn’t notice.

Like on the last days, the ration is small and the food soon disappears from your plate. It’s tasting stale with a faint tang of iron. The can was most likely way past the best before date already. Once finished with your meal, you put the plate to the side again, returning to your work.

A long shadow casts over the metal, making you look up with a crooked eyebrow.

Negan. Of course.

“Uhm… hi?” You greet him with uncertainty in your tone.

The leader of the Saviors leans casually against the table, crossing his arms. “What was that about?”

Confused, you ask, “Sorry?”

He nods at your plate. “Already working on your beach body or why are you not eating?"

“I did eat,” you defend yourself, but Negan keeps looking at you, still waiting for an explanation. After a sigh of defeat, you explain, “We cut down our rations, the last run was pretty much fruitless.” 

Although you visited the place beforehand and took all necessary precautions, you could not predict the bad weather and the passing herd of walkers, when you sent a team to loot the area. 

“That so?” Negan asks and you nod in comirmation. “Rick didn't mention any shortage whatsoever.”

No shit, you want to say, but you manage to go for a more cautious response, “Of course not. He can’t just ask you to take less, can he?"

Negan lets out a breath through his teeth, “See, sunshine, I’m a reasonable man. You guys starving won’t benefit me in any way. How’s your food rationed at the moment?”

“The kids get two meals a day, adults one.”

The tone of his voice turns surprisingly soft. “And why is it that you don't even eat once a day?”

“So the kids can eat twice.”

Negan rolls his eyes at you. With his tongue between his teeth, he lets his eyes roam over the busy town before they find Michael tinkering at the wall. After a moment they return back to you. “When I ask you, how much the fucker in the cell gets to eat and you tell me it’s more than you do, I’m gonna lose my shit.”

You don’t respond right away, ducking your head. After a short moment, you tell him, “He gets a half ration and has to work if he wants more.”

Negan just shakes his head, muttering a quiet unbelievable under his breath while looking back at the street, “Why are you doing this to yourself, Y/N? For real now.”

“What do you mean?” You ask in confusion.

“You're running yourself to the ground for these useless shitheads here and for what? I can see the dark circles under your eyes from the other end of the town.”

Tiredly, you lean against the table as well. “Yeah, well…” You don’t know where to start and if you should be talking to him at all. But he seems genuinely pissed about your current situation. 

Eventually you tell him, “Let’s say the incident with Dwight had more repercussions than expected. Turns out people will assume you to be absolutely badshit, when being covered in blood ‘n gore and laughing, while being held at knifepoint.”

Negan has to chuckle at that, “Not gonna lie, I would have paid good money to see that. You actually scared the living shit out of some of my men.”

You can’t deny the feeling of pride blooming in your chest and you smile slightly at your boots. After a moment you look up at him again. “Well, Saviors and Alexandrians both."

Negan's smile vanishes, instead his brows move into a frown. "Are they giving you shit for it?" 

You shrugs with your shoulders before you explain the situation, "You know about the stupid interviews we had. Later that night, Alexandria held a trial, debating if and who could stay. Take a guess who they deemed too unstable to keep around. Long story short, I was allowed to stay, thanks to my pharmaceutical background. Many eventually came around but some never accepted me and remained wary. The thing with Dwight only reaffirmed their previous perception of me… lost a few nights over that.”

Insomnia has always been a constant travel companion, ever since the outbreak, but it’s nothing you can’t deal with, most of the time you find something to do, taking your mind off whatever was haunting you. But it still stinged having some Alexandrians going back to the old pattern of avoiding you.

“And you think starving will put you back in their good grace?” Negan asks.

You shrug your shoulders again, watching the activities at the pantry. “Honestly, I don’t care if people here like me or not, Negan. I just want my people and family safe.”

“Fine, let’s be honest for a second,” Negan's serious tone makes you look up at him again, “This here, what you are doing, that’s not being selfless or shit, that’s being stupid. Have they ever thanked you, acknowledged they only have food because of you?”

You cross your arms and look around the street. “Some…”

“Some,” He repeats with venom in his voice. “You’re the last person in this goddamn community who should deal with all this shit, yet you do the fucking most.”

It feels good to hear someone say that. Most of the time, it feels like the town takes you and your work for granted. But what’s the alternative, everyone starving, because you don’t feel like helping anymore? “It’s not like I have a choice.”

Negan looks at you with a lopsided grin, “And what if you had? Just sayin’, in The Sanctuary no one would ever dare to treat you like this.”

The what? Confused, you look up at him and open your mouth to ask what he’s talking about, but he continues, “Know what? Good thing we’re having this conversation, cause I’d like to propose something to you."

You look up at him, waiting for whatever he came up with now.

“I want you to work for me.”

You raise a brow in return, “Don’t I already?”

Negan’s grin splits wider, “As Alexandria's scout, sure, but I mean as a Savior.”

You blink at Negan a few times, your mouth agape and mind running wild. Unable to process what’s happening, you just stay silent, dumbfounded.

“These people might not notice your devotion but I sure as hell do.”

After another moment, you snap out of your shocked state. All you can do is to mumble, “Why?”

“Like I said, I like you. So much so that I offer you a way out of this sorry ass community, God knows you deserve a promotion for the fucking truck load of shit you gatherd for me.”

You can’t deny that you feel flattered. 

But you can’t bring yourself to take the offer. While Negan seems to be stable most of the time, you know his short temper and his men are not better in any way. You wanted to leave your group twice already and almost did once, but you just can’t leave them behind now. Not for them.

“I’m sorry, Negan, but I have to decline.” You tell him, nervous about how he’s gonna take your rejection.

“Too bad,” He sighs and you believe to catch disappointment flashing in his eyes. “I think the two of us would make a fucking awsome team.”

You smile slightly at him and when he meets your eyes, he does the same. “Think about it, sunshine, there is nothing for you to lose, only to gain.”

And with that he pushes himself from the table and makes his way towards the trucks at the gate. You look after him for a few moments, before turning back to your work.

Somehow you can't stop wondering whether he likes you as an asset, a minion. Or you as a person. It should be wrong to hope for it to be the latter, but you can’t help yourself. Negan can be charismatic if he wants to, something you actually like about him and that’s dangerous territory.

While interacting with him was creepy at first and to be fair, it still is kind of off putting most of the time, he actually does seem to care to some degree. He was definitely and genuinely pissed about your current situation. 

Maybe he isn’t as evil as we all think?

"Y/N, I could use a hand!" Michonne calls you, effectively pulling you away from your thoughts. Better not dwell on that, you think to yourself and get moving.

Negan walks over to his men to overlook this week's goods. Simon’s awaiting him with a knowing smile. “Got a soft spot for the crazy one, huh, boss?”

Negan narrows his eyes at him, “Another word and hang you on the fence by your dick.”

The boss didn’t expect you to actually say yes right away, he believes to able to predict you at least to some extent, but he wasn’t expecting such a quick no either.

But he is nothing if not determined and in the end Negan always gets what he wants.

Chapter Index: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6

Next Part / Masterlist / Negan x Rick's Daughter Series

[pollyna]

The Sunnyside of the Iceman

- tattoo shop!au: Sundown and Iceman are the owner of the most ridiculously named tattoes shop in Miramar;

- they were both pilots, but racism and the commie witch hunt did the trick on them. Doesn't matter that Ice was the best and Sundown already flown more mission that he could remember;

- Slider used to be his RIO and now he's Goose's and Ice swears in seven languages (that he speaks) that if one of them isn't going to ask out to the other he is going to do that for them. It's fucking embarrassing. Ice loves his best friend but he can't live with all that secondhand embarrassment for much longer;

- Sundown says that Chip says that they even get worse since they were called in Top Gun and Jesus, seriously Sunny? (Chip is Sun's boyfriend and he's knows all the little gossip that makes Ice laughs for days at time);

- Sun and Chip met two weeks in the program and it took them three years to speak about feelings. Ice would like to know if every single navy pilot is emotionally slow;

- they bought the shop for almost a penny because the lady didn't know what to do with it and Ice knows how to smiles when he wants to;

- Ice's first tattoo is on Sun's left wrist, the silhouette of a Tomcat F-14. Sun's first is on Ice's biceps, a colourful little things that he says represent the patch of Iceman's first squadron. Tom finds himself looking at it for hours, even if it's already four years old;

- They're close on Monday but once a month it's on Sunday because Marcus has his monthly meeting with his granma and he takes Ice with him because it's hilarious watching his 95 years old granny telling her friends, and the pastor, that this is the white Jewish boy I adopted! Ice looks pleasantly embrassed and his humor gets better and better everytime his plate gets filled;

- they hear about Maverick, for the first time, a cloudy day where half of Miramar is in their shop and Slider has his arm around Goose and their noses are so closed they could kiss, even without trying. Chip says he's half crazy up in the sky and that Merlin actually prayed during their third hop. They see Maverick for the first time four week in to the program and the first thing he says to Iceman is it's all your fault if Goose isn't my RIO and the silence is the only sound he hears back and then he's out of the door before anyone can move;

- Sun brings out the heavy alcohol for that night and Iceman finished between Slider and Goose, drawing new tattoes and trying to know knock his friends head together. The next morning the designs are still pretty cool, Slider&Goose are cuddling but nothing happend. He hoped Sun had made his special eggs, he deserves a treat;

- Maverick is back a week later, looking like someone had just kicked his dog and with a pie, a I'm sorry pie apparently. It was uncalled for, I'm sorry he says before shifting half of his attention to the last schematics Ice draw. I-would you be willing to tattoo that on me? It's freaking awsome and Marcus' job are great but I want to first one to that, Ice is almost going to say no to him but the pie is an apple one and Maverick is looking at the drawing like he's seeing something sacred and he can't tell him no. (For visual is something like this);

- so, as Sunny whispers to Chip adding the last details to his last tattoo, the Mitchell-Kazansky drama is beginning. Chip laughs before kissing him, and we have the front row tickets;

- Mav becomes a regular in the shop and in their lives long after the tattoo is done and he has the propensity of moving people around to be as close to Iceman as he can;

- they, Chip&Sun&Slider&Goose, bet on how much time is going to take them to realise that Mav kissing Ice's forehead when he's sketching is something 'friends do' and what the two assholes are going to do about that;

- in the end, and fucking finally Iceman would say, Goose asks Slider out for a date and it goes so bad they're back in the shop the very next afternoon screaming at eachother until Chip doesn't gently shows Slider against Goose's chest and than it's just so perfectly quiet. Because they're kissing. Ice brings champagne out for dinner, they all deserve it and maybe, maybe, he's going to find the courage to take Mav's hand in his and kiss him before the end of the night;

- Sun doesn't want to know, he just wants their shop free of drama, and let his boyfriend take him up in the sky after hours.