#i have loads of notes on this au that i typed out yesterday

[mispatchedgreens]

jc leyendecker's 'the sleuth' (1906) study, featuring wang baoxiang in an extremely specific au where he's a very old vampire, he travels to new york at the dawn of the 20th century, does accounting for a triad out of boredom and very predictably falls in love with a terrible horrible rude ratboy

#the radiant emperor #he who drowned the world #she who became the sun #wang baoxiang #my art #aayyy this wouldn't show up in the tags and I'm fumbling again #fumbling and reposting like a sad sack #i have loads of notes on this au that i typed out yesterday #gang thank you so much for listening to me #and encouraging the madness #jc leyendecker

[sheeple]

Itchy sweaters | 7: Quality time

PHOTO NOT MINE. THIS IS ALL FICTION. Genre(s): CEO!au / arranged marriage!au / Fashion designer!au Fandom(s): MCU Pairing(s): CEO!Bucky Barnes x fashion designer!reader Summary: Love comes in unexpected places and in many forms, everybody knows that but we often forget it. It can come as enjoyment in your job, brunch with friends, gifts, or an arranged marriage. Warning(s): Age-gap [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist]

My eyes travel over the wall with model headshots. I chew on my bottom lip as I think deeply. We just need a handful of models to walk for us before the big show. It's a wonder if we can get them fitted in this short time.

I suddenly get an idea, thinking back to the fundraiser and James' ill-fitting suit jacked. "Wan, doesn't the brand stand for inclusivity? Do we have some models with prosthetics?" I turn towards her with raised eyebrows.

She quickly starts typing away on her laptop, understanding my thought process. "There are a few available at the moment. Should I send them a call?"

I nod enthusiastically. "Do that. See if they can come down within the next three days for a fitting."

Wanda hums, walking out of my office and already calling the model agencies of the models.

I also decide to go out of my office and make rounds through the atelier to see if I can help something. I overlook the sketches and see that the white tule dress has yet to get started. 

"What is this?", I ask, point towards the pinned sketch with my brows arched.

Cleo who's closed to my right cringes at my harsh tone. "We only got the right fabrics yesterday." 

I curse softly under my breath. We have less than five weeks to finish the whole set. "I'll take it, just make sure you finish in time, okay?" I throw her a quick smile as I grab the sketch and pattern.

At a free station, I place everything down as I also grabbed a pincushion and the right fabrics in the meantime. Just with the amount of tule, I can't see the station anymore. 

I start to sow the tule three-piece, time races by and before I know it's ten o'clock and everyone already has left, except for the twins.

"Here", Pietro places a plate with steaming diner before me, transferring my sewing work to another station. "Eat."

I glance at my watch. "What are you guys doing here? Shouldn't you be at home?"

"We could ask you the same", muses Wanda with a smile, grabbing a stool and sitting next to Pietro with a plate on her lap.

With a roll of my eyes, I start to eat while I look over the sketch. "I am the boss, I can stay as long as I want to. Did you find the models I asked for, by the way?"

She hums. "Three are comming down tomorrow, two others Thursday. Thursday are the males comming."

"And how's the decoration for the show coming along?" I glance at Pietro. "Are those plants able to be delivered in time?"

Pietro grabs his phone and scrolls through his mail. "The supplier said that they are on location in two weeks."

"Then I'll be staying in Chicago that week. Can you arrange some Airbnb or hotel for the whole week for us three, Wan?" I run a hand through my already messy hair. 

"Added to the to-do list. You also have Thursday a meeting with the head stylist about the make-up and hair." Wanda types away on her phone, glancing now and then up at me while she speaks.

"Saw it on the agenda, thanks for the reminder", I mumble with my mouth full of rice. 

Pietro scowls at me speaking with my mouth full. "What style are you planning to use?"

I swallow this time before speaking, a fist before my mouth. "I was thinking to keep it natural since the clothes are pretty bold. Maybe a smokey-eye with a bold lip, soft-looking hair." I wave my hands around my head to sign wave-y hair.

Wanda quickly takes notes, the fork still in her mouth. "Anything else?"

I shake my head. "No, not at the moment. I'll probably come up with something at the moment." Like usually, I must admit.

Once we finish our dinner, I clean up and make sure the dishwasher is loaded and turned on to be cleared out in the morning. 

Before I can continue on the tule three-piece, Wanda has already grabbed my jacket and bag, and Pietro pulls me away from the workstation.

A whine leaves my lips as the twins drag me out of the atelier, turning off the lights and locking the place up. I get ushered towards my car, practically shoved into my jacket.

"Now you're going home and sleep. No baking, designing, or binge-watching, okay? If I catch you being online on social media, I am going to knock you out so that you sleep."

I roll with my eyes at Wanda's aggressive caring. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I will do that, don't worry", I grumble, throwing my bag on the passenger's seat and getting in my car.

"Go to sleep, you understand." Pietro doubles at the waist as he lectures me through the open window of the driver's side.

With a dismissive wave of my hand, I start the car and drive away.

"No baking or drinking!", I hear the twins yell in unison.

"No BaKiNg Or DrInKiNg", I say in a mock tone as I knead the bread dough, macarons in the oven and a tall Cosmopolitan next to me.

The ringtone of my phone laying on the kitchen counter next to my drink scares me and I jump up in the air. It's Wanda, she always knows when I am drinking or baking with her witch-like powers.

To my relief, it's James' name on the screen. I accept the call and press the speaker button with my nose as my hands are still sticky from the bread dough.

"Hello stranger", I say with a smile.

"Hi doll, did I wake you up?" Just by the sound of James' voice, I know he's frowning.

"No", I laugh, "I am baking. Something's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, I just can't sleep. So I thought I give you a call, in the hope that you were awake." 

I can already see in my mind how James lays in his bed, probably only wearing bottoms and one arm under his head, the other holding the phone to his ear.

No! Bad thoughts! Bad thoughts! I only know him for like a month or so. It's way too quick to just... catch any sort of feelings for him.

The next words come out without me thinking. "Do you want to come over? I mean... if you want to? I'm not going to sleep anytime soon, so why not have some company?" I feel my face heat up and I close my eyes in embarrassment.

"Okay great, because I am already kinda at your place?", says James more like a question than a statement. "Look out of your window."

I frown and walk over to the window to my right that faces the street as I peel the sticky dough off my fingers. And lo and behold, James is standing at the bottom of my apartment building, looking up with the biggest smile on his face while he has his phone pressed to his ear. 

With a small wave, I quickly clean my hands and practically rush down two sets of stairs with my keys in hand.

"Hi", I greet him, slightly out of breath from running down the stairs. "Come in." 

James follows me up towards my floor and walks in after me into my apartment, his eyes going over the living space.

"It's not much and not really clean, but let's be fair when is someone's apartment?"

My statement makes James chuckle, his fingers dancing over the back of my forest green couch that matches the wall across from it. I make my way back towards the kitchen and finish up the dough quickly, letting it rest in a glass bowl with a towel over it so it can rise.

James sniffs the air. "It smells delicious in here, what are you making?" He cranes his neck down slightly so he can look into my oven. "Are those macarons?"

I nod with a smile. "Mocha macarons. I just need to make the hazelnut sauce to drizzle over it and then they are finished. Do you... maybe want to help me?"

His face lights up like Christmas lights and James smiles enthusiastically, already taking off his leather jacket. "I would love to."

"Wait, first you need a cocktail. Drinking cocktails is a part of midnight baking. Which is your favourite?" I grab my mixing tools and have already opened the liquor cabinet.

"What is your favourite to make?" James smiles amused at me as he sees me readying the tools.

An excited gasp leaves my lips. "I make the best Necromancer! Are you allergic to blueberries or lavender?" James shakes his head. "Great. Be prepared to let your mind blown. Place your butt on one of the stools and watch me make magic." I wink at him, already combining the gin, triple sec, lemon juice, vermouth, absinthe and crème de violette in a cocktail shaker with ice.

"Where did you pick up this... skill?", asks James as he eyes the purple drink before him in wonder once I served it in one of the pre-chilled glasses I have in my fridge and placed before him. 

He takes a small sip of it, nodding content. "That shit's good. What is it exactly?"

While I clean up, I answer his questions, "it's a lavender and blueberry gin, one of my favourites. Besides a good martini, of course. I used to work as a bartender while I was in fashion school. It was a fun job, paid well too."

James hums, an amused look on his face as he leans closer towards me. "So, any more recommendations for me to try while we burn down your kitchen?"

I let out a loud laugh as the timer of the oven goes off. "Do you want to honours of taking the macarons out of the oven?" I hold out the oven mittens for James, and he grabs them.

"Of course, my lady. It would be my pleasure." He carefully grabs the baking tray out of the oven, making sure he doesn't touch the hot walls. James places the tray on the stove, wafting it with one mitten.

"Let's play twenty questions", he says and I raise my eyebrows.

"Where is this comming from?" I let out a laugh as I add instant espresso powder and a shit load of buttercream into a clean bowl.

James shrugs, leaning against the counter next to me and sipping his drink. "I thought it was a good idea to get to know each other. I mean ─ not to sound creepy ─ but I googled you and that doesn't tell me anything about the person (Y/n) (Y/l/n)."

I shake my head with a smile. "Okay, okay, fair. Shoot your question." I glance at him while grabbing two piping bags.

"Dream car?" James looks at me with a crooked smile.

"Oh, that one is easy. A cherry red Cadillac from the '50s with white and red upholstery." I show James a photo of the car. "Dad has bought one and promised I could have it once it's fixed."

"I never pegged you for a classical car girl."

I snort at the word 'peg'. Not a good enough reason to use the word. "Yeah well, I am full of surprises", I say in a teasing manner, winking at James. "My turn, favourite film?"

James stands back, thinking deeply. "I really love the Grand Budapest Hotel. The colours, how bizarre it is. Wes Anderson is a genius."

I hum, filling a piping bag with filling and giving it to James. I fill the last one and we both start to pipe filling on one half of a macron and very carefully place the other half on top of it.

"Favorite gemstone", James tries to say so casually as possible, but I notice the side glances he gives me. He’s plotting something. I just know it.

"Grey spinel. It's far more beautiful than a black diamond." I let out a laugh as I see him take mental notes. "Why? What are you planning?"

James shrugs, a playful look in his eyes. "Just good to know."

I laugh again. Good to know indeed. "What's your favourite colour?" 

He sends me a smirk and I already know his counter-question. "Why? What are you planning?" 

I bump against him with my hip and laugh, rolling my eyes. "Just answer the question, dork."

"Fine", he sighs dramatically. "My favourite colour is maya blue."

I raise my eyebrows up in surprise. "Maya blue? That's oddly specific."

James shrugs, leaning closer towards me. "What can I say? I like oddly specific things."

#mcu #mcu imagine #mcu scenario #mcu x reader #mcu x y/n #mcu au #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel scenario #marvel x reader #marvel x y/n #marvel au #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes scenario #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes au #bucky #bucky imagine #bucky scenario #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky au #winter soldier #winter solider imagine #winter soldier scenario #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x y/n #winter soldier au

[holylulusworld]

The Roommate (2) - Living together

Summary: You and John try to get used to each other.

Pairing: AU John Winchester x fem!Reader

Characters: Charlie Bradbury

Warnings: language, cocky John, flirty John, angst, a hint of mutual pining, mentions of sex, virgin reader

A/N: The idea for plot and some details came from @shooterere per request.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

The Roommate masterlist

“Doll, can you tell me how this crazy coffee machine works?” John looks at your coffee machine, furrowing his brows. “That monster doesn’t want to give me my coffee.”

“Oh, you must push the red button, choose the coffee you want, press the blue button, and put a cup there,” you explain, pointing at your coffee machine. “Let me do this, you can check on the toast meanwhile.”

“I like your toaster, it leaves a nice pattern on the toast,” laughing John looks at your toast. “Is that a kitten or a dog?”

“That’s Hello Kitty, Mr. Winchester, “you tut. “It was a gift from my friend Charlie. She was in Japan and bought it for me.”

“It’s cute, somehow,” John tries. “I never saw a pink toaster. What else can it do?”

“Only toast,” shrugging you get the coffee ready. “What are you doing for work? We talked about everything but your job.”

“I own a garage,” he lies, hiding he owns more than one. “My sons and my best friend work with me. I like to get my hands dirty once in a while. Sadly, I’m busy doing paperwork most of the time.”

“Sounds interesting. I work part-time at a library and study economics,” you say, snatching the toast out of John’s hands. “I’m usually home till eleven and can prepare dinner for us. I made a list of what we will need this week. You can add what you like to eat. Maybe you want a sixpack of beer too.”

“Give me the list and I’ll check if you forgot something,” John watches you pour him a cup of coffee, smirking as you ask him how he likes his coffee. “Black, doll. Like my soul.”

You giggle at his comment, give your cocky new roommate a wink before you usher toward the living room. “I got time left to have breakfast and to load the washer before I go to the grocery store. Do you have dirty clothes?”

“Only my underwear and a shirt,” he grins, stepping inside the living room to lazily lean in the door frame. “I don’t know if you want to wash an old man’s boxers.”

“You’re not that old,” you stuff the toast into your mouth before you say something you might regret. Yes, John is elder than you thought when you talked to him on the phone but there is something about the man that makes your heart flutter.  

“If you say so, doll,” John purrs the words, pushing off the door frame to sit next to you on the couch. “I’ll be out of your hair till six. Do you want to cook? I can grab a snack on my way if you don’t want to.”

“I got the day off, John. I will cook if you tell me what you like. Do you eat meat or are you vegan?”

“Fuck no,” John shudders, looking at you in disbelief. “I want meat. I love meat in any form, Y/N. Soft and juicy.” eyes glued to your thighs John licks his lips. “And I love to eat it too.”

“Mr. Winchester,” you gasp, slapping his chest. “Don’t say something like that.” giggling nervously you look up at John who grins wolfishly. He set his eyes on you and will be damned if he can’t sink his teeth into you sooner or later.

“It’s true, baby doll,” he husks, leaning closer. “I would kill for a steak or a good burger. How about I bring the wine?”

“I’m not into alcohol, but you can have some wine if you want to, John. I can put it on my list,” you say, glancing shyly at John.

“Nah, sweetie. You cook and take care of the groceries and I’ll bring the wine. Tell me how much I owe you for the food and groceries.”

“Beer, toast, eggs, milk,” looking at your list you cross out what you got. “Charlie, I need steak and apples.”

“So, how’s it going with Johnny boy?” Charlie smirks when you giggle nervously. “Babe, give me the juicy details. It’s been a week now. Tell me if you already fucked.”

“Charlie!” you tut, looking around the store to make sure no one heard what your friend said. “I did not sleep with John. He’s my roommate, okay. I don’t think it’s a good idea to hit on him and,” you sigh deeply, “even if I wanted to flirt with him, I’m not his type. I saw the pictures of his girlfriend on his phone. She looked like a supermodel.”

“Y/N, you’re hot, smart, and sexy. Don’t underestimate your value. I can tell, that guy almost ate you alive when he picked you up.”

“No, he didn’t, Charlie. Now let’s get the rest from my list and forget about John for a while. He’s a nice guy but not interested.”

“I bet he wants to do dirty things to you,” rolling your eyes at the quirky redheads’ words you follow her silently toward the next shelf. “Do you have condoms?”

“CHARLIE!”

“What? Better safe than sorry, babe. We will buy you a package of condoms and lube. Maybe some booze to loosen you up a little,” Charlie exclaims.

“I don’t want to be drunk when I finally have sex for the first time. And again, I don’t think a man like John would ever show interest in me. I saw him look at the pictures of his ex-girlfriend just yesterday. Maybe he even moves out again.”

“Doll, that smells amazing,” John licks his lips. His stomach grumbles and you laugh when he drops his jacket and bag to usher toward the table. “It looks even better.”

“I thought as you moved in and all we could celebrate a bit. I made steak, potatoes, and green beans. I got the beer for you and juice for me,” you explain, handing John a bottle of his favorite beer.

“Baby doll, that’s amazing,” John pecks your cheek, smirking when you don’t shy away. “Thank you, sweetie. That’s the best day since ages for me.”

“You’re welcome. I got you everything you put on the list too. I made space for your things in the fridge,” you explain where John can put his groceries and how much he must pay you for everything. “Let’s eat first, I don’t want the food to get cold.”

“Let’s get back to the rules. We already talked about the rooms you can use and the costs but,” biting your lower lip you try to gather the courage to talk to John about the women he will bring home.

“I get it, doll,” John smirks, sitting on the couch next to you. “You want to know if and when I will bring women to your home.”

“It’s your home now too, John,” you stutter. “I don’t want you to feel like a guest and I’m not a prude. I know men have needs and that you will find a girl sooner or later.”

“I’m not looking for a girl right now. The disaster with Sharon was worse enough, Y/N,” John watches you nervously tug at your sweater. “Except you want to become my girl,” he smirks, leaning closer to brush his fingertips over your hand. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“If we want this to work out we need more rules. A man like you would never be interested in me, I get it, but that’s no reason to make fun of me, John,” watching you storm out of the living room, angrily wiping your eyes John sighs deeply.

“Doll, I didn’t want to make fun of you,” he grumbles. “You’re sexy, so goddamn cute and I like you.” whispering the words John curses himself for being too pushy.

“Doll?” knocking on your door John sighs deeply. “Y/N, can I come in, sweetie. Listen, I’m sorry. If you get to know me better, you’ll know I’m flirty around pretty girls. I’m sorry if you got it wrong.”

“John, I’m not pretty,” you sniff, opening the door to your bedroom. “I know you try to be friendly and get in my good graces, but this is not necessary.”

“Y/N, this was not about getting in your good graces. You are a cute girl and I like you. Please let me make it up to you. How about I get us dessert and we watch a movie?”

“Oh-okay,” nodding you look at John who gives you a soft smile. “I like vanilla ice cream the most.”

“Vanilla, got it, sweetie. You can choose a movie while I get the ice cream. Do you want anything else?”

“Maybe some strawberry sauce,” you grin. “I like strawberries.”

“Noted, doll-“

“How was work?” watching another movie, the one John chose, you prefer to look at your roommate. He wanted to watch a horror movie and now the girls scream in terror. “Anything new?”

“I worked on a car today,” John says. “Bobby, my partner said we are ready to buy another garage.”

“Oh, that’s great – I guess,” you shrug. “The library called today and told me I’ll get fewer hours. Sucks. I worked there for four years and now there is that new girl and she gets more hours.”

“I’m sorry to hear, doll. Why not looking for another job?” stopping the movie to talk to you John frowns. “Hey, don’t cry, Y/N.” he says softly when you choke out a sob.

“It’s just, I finally could pay for everything. With my job, the part you pay, and the money from Mr. Talbot I had enough money.”

“Money from Mr. Talbot?” John asks.

“I help him with his papers, bookkeeping and everything else and he pays me a few bucks. You know, he’s eighty and got no one to help him,” you explain. “He was a good friend of my granny.”

“You got experience in bookkeeping?” nodding you tell John about your talent with numbers and that you love to work for Mr. Talbot. “You know, I could need help at my office. How about you give me a hand and work part-time for me and my partner?”

“John, I don’t need your pity. We shouldn’t live and work together,” you’d like to work for John but mixing work and your private life is a bad idea in your opinion.

“Y/N, I offered you a job to have someone at my office I can trust with my papers. Let’s talk about it with my partner Bobby, you’ll like the old geezer. He’s not as charming as I am but a good guy.”

“You want me to work for you?”  

“Sure, doll. Let’s watch the rest of the movie and tomorrow, you’ll come with me and we can talk to Bobby. I bet he’ll love you,” John grins, glancing at your cleavage. “Old geezer always had a thing for pretty girls like you…”

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

The roommate tags

@boogiewoogiebutt​;

#The Roommate (2) - Living together #AU John #au john winchester #au john x reader #john winchester #John Winchester fanfiction #au john Winchester x reader #plus size reader

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

Wip Wednesday

Untitled fic (Correspondence)

Summary/Story so far: HotchReid, slow burn, AU where Reid never joined the FBI, but got roped into consulting for the LA field office while working and teaching at Caltech. Hotch gets his email from a fellow agent, and they start to work on cases together -- until they start talking on a regular basis. Regular becomes frequent, frequent becomes constant. We are now months into this... tentative thing that is beyond friendship, beyond flirtatious, they still don't know much about each other on paper... but this feels a lot like dating. And then one day, Hotch abruptly stops answering his phone.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

(Set in season 6, unbeta'd, still the first draft, text/email templates are temporary)

((Notes: Spencer's POV this time, he is 29 and working at CalTech, Hotch still doesn't know how old he is though he does know that he's at least younger than 45 now. Hotch has been MIA now for about 18 hours.))

.

Spencer spends way too long online that morning, searching for anything about the case Hotch is working. There's nothing about a raid, or a shooting, or even an arrest -- which could all just be apart of the ongoing media blackout -- but it also does nothing to stop him from panicking. 

With a drafted email pulled up to Ms. Penelope Garcia, the BAU's personal tech analyst, he ponders how to... even word this without it sounding too personal. Too much like he and Hotch have more than just a working relationship.

Because they do. They have... something.

Something that gives him fluttering sensations in his stomach, makes him check his phone constantly, and react to even the slightest chime similar to his text tone. Makes him smile when he sees Hotch's name on his notifications, in his email inbox, makes him message the man in the middle of the day at the most random thoughts. Just because he wants to make him laugh.

.

[]You're going to get me in trouble.

[][]Did I make you smile?

[]I'm at a crime scene. There's a dead body in front of me.

[][]Then why are you checking your phone?

[]You know why.

.

But that’s not something that is shared with the rest of the team, he’s sure. So he should be careful how he words his email, lest Ms. Garcia realize that Spencer isn’t asking purely as a colleague. 

Surely they know he has friends, though?

Chewing his lip, Spencer types out a brief email asking if Agent Hotchner is feeling well since he missed an appointment the night before and hasn’t been returning his calls. It’s a phrase he’s used often, so it comes naturally to Spencer as he types it out, and he realizes… he hasn’t called. He’s sent a dozen text messages, but not a phone call. Never a phone call. That was against the rules. 

He looks to his phone beside him on his desk, and tries to fight back the dueling forms of panic clawing at his chest. Panic that Hotch might not answer, panic what that means for the man he’s been… becoming more and more inclined to than any other person he’s met in so long. Panic if he does answer, breaking that barrier of written words to spoken, and the opportunity to hear Hotch’s voice. But he would also hear Spencer’s, and then there would be no hiding just how… how young he really is.

But his phone is in his hand before he can stop himself, and Hotch’s contact pulled up and his thumb hovering over the phone number with baited breath. 

Was he really going to do this?

He presses the touch screen and can hear the line connecting, the dial tone ring even before he gets the phone up to his ear and waits. It rings, and rings, and rings a fourth time -- before clicking over to voicemail. And Spencer’s hyper-fast thought processes realize he’s going to hear Hotch’s voice for the first time. Frozen in a panic, unsure if he wants to or if that had been something he wanted them to do together that the seconds slip by and suddenly it’s too late.

“You’ve reached the voicemail box of -- (703)-567-8790 -- this caller is not available. Please leave a message after the tone--”

It’s an automated, female voice that rattles off the numbers and generic call back message, and Spencer hangs up before it can begin recording him. Exhaling a shaky breath, that nothing had been ruined between him and Hotch thanks to an ill-timed phone call. 

He keeps the momentum going without much thought, and adjusts his email to Ms. Garcia before sending it. 

It feels so understated, and yet over dramatic the more he thinks about it. The more he reads it.

.

Please let me know of his well-being.

.

God, no wonder Hotch thought he was in his 60’s. 

But Spencer has to keep the façade up, not give away anything he doesn’t want to just because the emotional part of his brain is running rampant over the rational one. There are… many explanations as to why Hotch isn’t answering him. His gut feeling aside, he doesn’t need to be panicking like this. The world is still turning, he still has work to do, so Spencer tries to gather himself into some semblance of order and preps to talk to his doctoral students within the hour.

.

--

.

His morning routine progresses as usual, to start. Dr. Reid has his mandatory round up with his doctoral candidates going over thesis and dissertation parameters, class lecture schedules, updates, the works. Like morning announcements, but he requires them all to be there and to listen, and they all show up. Everyone knows of Spencer’s eidetic memory. He will certainly not forget a single date or schedule change, and he expects his students to not forget as well. 

But this morning Spencer is fully distracted, his mind elsewhere, somewhere in the state of Delaware with an agent who may or may not be in danger. Because Spencer cannot shake the feeling that something is wrong. It almost seems more like a fact than a feeling. 

He becomes even more distracted when his email pings, a response from Ms. Garcia of Quantico, VA flashing across his laptop screen, right in the middle of his department announcements. Spencer’s eyes skim the preview sentence in the pop-up box, and his voice trails off as his mind… whirls. 

.

Dr. Reid, I’m sorry to tell you I don’t know when Hotch will be available again. There was an incident, and he’s still in surg-

.

Surgery.

Surgery.

That vice-like grip of worry that has taken hold of him since last night tightens further, to the point Spencer can’t breathe. Hotch is hurt, he’s in surgery, and if he hasn’t been answering his phone since last night -- or even late yesterday afternoon -- it was not a minor thing.

Hotch is hurt. 

“Dr. Reid? Are you okay?”

“I--” he’s still looking at the email pop-up box, and is clicking on it before he can stop himself. Immediately disconnecting his laptop from the projector as his email loads there. It takes him a faction of a second to read the email. “I’m sorry, an emergency just came up. Kimmy, finish reading off the schedule for me?” He doesn’t even wait until she answers him, just picks up his laptop and retreats to his office as fast as his long legs will carry him.

.

--surgery and we’re still waiting on word. I know you 2 talk on the reg so I’ll keep you posted. 

Fret not, genius professor, our fearless leader has been through much worse than this.

.

She’s using informal speech patterns, which she has never done before. It bleeds her nervousness, and worries Spencer even more. Ms. Garcia also revealed she knows he and Hotch talk, but surprisingly that doesn’t have the effect he thought it would on his already rattled nerves. Instead, any and all reservations fall away as he types out a response much in the same way he and Hotch had started their friendship all those months ago.

.

Please, is there anything you are allowed to tell me about the case or his condition? We --

.

Spencer pauses, bites his lip as he considers crossing this boundary into the uncomfortable unknown, and then thinks about Hotch on a hospital operating table three thousand miles away.

“Screw it,” he mutters and continues to type.

.

--We’ve become good friends and I’m very worried.

.

The reply is almost immediate.

.

That makes 2 of us, boy wonder, but I’m already hacked into the hospital records database and Prentiss is in the waiting room.

I’m sending you the case files and the incident report from last night. Maybe you can see some shiz we can’t b/c the bossman is tough but he’s been in surgery a long time. 

.

Of course, whatever he can do to help. Spencer’s heavy heart-beat triples in his chest as pulls up the files and immediately prints them out so he can read through them faster. But then his mind sticks on something from the email. 

Boy Wonder.

Ms. Garcia knows how young he is.

She must have done a background check on him, that would make sense since he’s been consulting so much lately. But why would Garcia know his age, and not Hotch?

.

Ms. Garcia, did you update my dossier with the bureau after you ran my background check?

.

If you’re referring to why Hotch seems to think you’re rocking the senior discount at restaurants and not still getting carded for beer, then no I didn’t update it. I’m very anti-gov files having every detail of our lives in them, that’s what I’m for, and I figured there was a reason he didn’t know. Your secret is safe with me, sugar bean.

.

The real reason is Agent Anderson of the LA field office is a dick, with a bully streak he never outgrew after high school, and didn’t bother filling out a full file on him the first time Spencer consulted for the FBI. Then, he couldn’t be bothered to update it when his consultations became more than a one time thing.

But that was all in the past now, and Spencer can’t even be upset about it. Because now he has Hotch.

.

Thank you, Ms. Garcia. I’ll let you know my findings soon.

.

He skims the file quickly, pulling information out at lightning speed. It appears a very straight-forward case. As straight-forward as a murderous sociopath can be, anyway. Very anti-establishment, specified targets that devolved to anyone in a uniform. Anyone who appears too official, or lables as official. 

It’s easy to see, now why the unsub attacked Hotch instead of running from him. He practically served himself up on a silver platter. But there’s something about the kills that’s bothering Spencer. The knife wounds, bludgeoning, even the gunshots during the first murders -- it’s all overkill. Rage. Every single target has died from massive internal bleeding, M.E. reports all label the knife wounds and beatings as the cause. But the amount of blood left over, measured during autopsy, doesn’t add up. They bled too much. No wounds indicating intentional bleeding occurred, and the tox screens are all clean. 

Except, every victim has elevated potassium rates.

“Oh, God,” Spencer whispers, quiet and horrified. “Hotch.”

There’s no time for email.

He picks up his phone, goes to an older email that has full contact details in the footer, and dials Ms. Garcia’s direct line in Quantico.

“Speak, and behold greatness.”

“Ms. Garcia, it’s Dr. Reid,” Spencer says, and his tone and quickened speech patterns gives way to his panic.

“Dr-- Dr. Reid?” 

“Yes, quick there’s no time. Do you have Hotch’s hospital records in front of you still?” 

“Yes,” Garcia says, her voice a musical thing even in it’s breathless reaction to his heightened state of haste. “Updated every two minutes.”

“Is his potassium elevated?”

Some quick typing of keys that move faster than even he could ever hope to type. “... Yes.”

God. “Okay, okay I need you to call the hospital right now,” Spencer says in a spiel that all sounds like one word. “Whatever you have to do, he needs Sodium Polystyrene Sulfonate as soon as possible, to counteract the chemical imbalance or he’s going to go into kidney failure and bleed out.”

.

tbc...

#THIS IS JUST A SNIPPET #I s2g it is but it is also long af #legit this ended up being 1900 words i just didn't feel like stopping you know? #so yall get like... 25% of the entire chapter basically #sorry not sorry #expect a wip every week now #wip wednesday #HotchReid #Heid #katyswriting #don't ask about the dots tumblr and I are in a formatting fight and aren't on speaking terms rn

[wingsofkpop]

Hiraeth - I.IX: Bloodborne

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatural!AU, Dark Magic!AU, heavy Angst, eventual Smut

warnings: Mature language, mentions of death and murder, violence, explicit descriptions of fighting, blood and gore, some satanic themes, mentions of trauma, etc. 

word count: 6,5k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

“—so once Youngjae channels enough power from the blood moon tonight, he’ll be able to lower the veil between the Other Side and the physical plane long enough to resurrect your spirit into a mortal body.” You explain, glancing over your notes at the unusually quiet figure sitting on your bed. Something about his expression seems distant—almost sorrowful. 

After your return from the hospital, and after the long chat with your roommate convincing her that your absence all night was due to a last minute work emergency, a certain ghost phased into your bedroom. You wouldn’t allow yourself to be this concerned, but during his visits, Jackson usually never shuts up. If you were all alone with no one to talk to, you probably wouldn’t either. 

You lower your notebook and shake your head, “You haven’t said one word since you showed up. What’s wrong?”

Jackson purses his lips, as if nervous to relay the thoughts swirling through his mind. Another brief moment of silence passes before he finally murmurs, “It’s the witches. They’re starting to get suspicious again… I don’t know how long I have before they figure out I’ve been crossing over to this plane.”  

“Then we’ll just have to bring you back before they find out.” You grab your phone from your desk, checking through your notifications to see if a certain siphoner has yet responded to your dozens of texts and calls. No dice. 

You haven’t been able to reach Youngjae since yesterday morning, which is odd considering the guy is the type to respond within three seconds of receiving a message. It would be one thing if he let you know that he’s busy, but it’s complete radio silence. It’s not like Youngjae at all. 

“You’re worried about something.” 

Your eyes dartup at Jackson’s observation, discovering his concerned gaze focused on you. 

“It’s Youngjae.” You sigh, “I haven’t heard from him, but I’m sure he’s just busy brewing potions or something.” You expect to earn at least a chuckle from the ghost, but his silence remains along with the blank expression along his face. His same distant demeanor also lingers, and this time, your concern grows to panic. “What is it, Jackson? What’s going on?” 

“I didn’t want to say anything cause I was sure it was all in my head, but I feel that something is… weird.” 

“Weird?” 

“It’s hard to explain.” He continues, “But as a ghost, I can feel things around me… like right now, the universe just seems off—” His voice cuts out as he frantically shakes his head, “Anyway, I just want you to be careful. Mark used to tell me that disrupting the balance of nature is like opening Pandora’s box.” 

“Yeah. We will be doing none of that.” You set your phone down before crossing the room to kneel in front of Jackson. A grin lifts to your lips as you hum to the ghost, “So what do you feel when you’re around me?...” 

Jackson raises an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?” 

“You said you feel things around you… Do you feel anything special when you’re with me?” 

You’re surprised at the eagerness that swells in your chest as he takes his time to think over your question. The inquiry was supposed to be a joke to lighten the mood, but you’re actually curious about your companion’s ghastly perceptions. After maybe a minute or two, Jackson sends you a small smile: 

“I feel… light.” 

“Light? What is that supposed to mean?” 

“You have this aura around you.” Jackson affirms, mindlessly reaching forward thumb at your cheek. You obviously can’t feel his touch, but something in your gut tells you that if you could, you would feel nothing but warmth. “I feel powerful when I’m with you…” 

“Is that a good thing?”  

He grins, “I think so.” 

You continue to stare at one another for a moment, almost attempting to read the depths in each other’s eyes. It’s not until a harsh knock resonates from the front door do you finally break the gaze, offering Jackson a final hum, “I’ll bring you back as soon as I can. I promise.” 

Jackson nods, “I know you will. But like I said, please be careful.” 

“I will. See you soon.” You wait for Jackson to disappear completely before exiting your bedroom, cursing Sana for leaving you to deal with whoever is incessantly banging on your door. It’s probably the old lady from across the hall wanting to borrow another cup of sugar. You roll your eyes at the thought and open the door, ready to politely decline your neighbor’s request.

Your words die on your tongue—definitely not the old lady from across the hall.  

“Mark? What are you—?” 

“What? Not expecting to see me?” Mark’s hostile growl takes you by surprise, as does the furious expression etched along his features. “That’s not surprising since you’ve been ignoring me.” 

“I’ve been busy.” 

“Oh. I’m sure.” 

You cross your arms over your chest. “What the hell is your problem?” 

“You wanna know what my problem is?” Mark takes a step closer to you before pointing a finger in your direction, “The fact that you not only lie to me, but you go behind my back and then deliberately avoid me for days on end.” 

“What are you even talking about, Mark?” 

“I’m talking about you and Youngjae playing God and resurrecting Jackson.” 

Your muscles instantly freeze, as if Mark had taken a tub of ice water and thrown it over your head. The annoyance inside your chest shifts to guilt, and your once cold features cannot help but soften. 

You shake your head, “Mark, I—” 

“Do you know how dangerous it is to bring someone back from the dead, (Y/N)?” Mark lowers his voice, but his tone remains as frigid as his gaze. “Do you know the consequences that happen when you fuck with the balance of nature?” 

“I get that, but—it’s complicated, Mark… There’s things you don’t understand—” 

“I don’t understand!?” He scoffs, “Last I checked, I’m the goddamn witch here, (Y/N)! You know nothing about magic and its sacrifice!” 

“Maybe not, but I do know that there is a chance I could bring Jackson back!” You shake your head again, “Please, just give me a chance to explain—” 

“No. Because it’s not fucking happening.” Mark interrupts, furiously shaking his own head. “I forbid you to do this.” 

It’s like a switch goes off in your mind. Your guilt immediately transforms, but this time, it configures into rage: 

“You forbid me!? Who the flying fuck do you think you are!?”

“I won’t sit back and allow you to get yourself killed—!” 

“And last I checked, you don’t have the right to control what I do and the decisions I make!” You seethe, stepping further back into your apartment. “This is my choice. I’m resurrecting Jackson whether you like it or not.” 

“Fine! Get yourself fucking killed for all I care!” The witch raises his hands in mock surrender. “At least then I won’t have to deal with your reckless, moronic ass!”

“Fuck you, Mark.” You don’t allow the witch to say anything further and slam the door in his face. Your chest remains unbearably heavy, both physically and mentally, but you ignore the sweltering emotions and begin to traverse around the apartment, gathering your bag and other assorted belongings. 

A confused and rather concerned Sana emerges from her bedroom a few seconds later. “Are you okay? What was with all that yelling?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” You huff, shoving your arms through the sleeves of your jacket. “Just Mark being a douchebag, as per usual.” 

“Where are you going?” 

“To find Youngjae.”

“Isn’t it kind of late?” 

“I’m an adult, Sana.” You snap before throwing your bag over your shoulder. “Don’t wait up for me.” 

Similar to Mark, you don’t allow Sana the chance to question you further and sprint out the front door, praying that Youngjae will be up to bringing Jackson back in the next few hours. 

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Mark has never exercised the greatest control over his emotions. It first began when he was twelve, after his dad walked out on his mom. He found himself sobbing his eyes out some days, and beating the shit out of other kids on others. His mood ranged from intense rage to extreme depression. There was no in between. 

In an effort to help, his mom enrolled him in a program designed to teach teens how to handle their emotions. But to no one’s surprise, the therapy didn’t do shit and Mark continued to initiate fights and cry himself to sleep most nights. He never understood why he felt this way—he still doesn’t, to be honest. His dad and him were never close, nor did he ever really care about his sudden departure. Maybe he was just an angry kid with depression. Maybe it was something else. 

It wasn’t until his mom was killed did Mark begin to pull his life together, which also happened to be around the same time he met the too-friendly, homeschooled kid with an ego the size of Jupiter, Jackson Wang. Sure, the two of them butted heads every so often, but with Jackson being a werewolf, Mark learned the importance of managing the chaos within. ‘Emotion is like a loaded gun,’ he remembers Jackson once said, ‘If you let yourself pull the trigger without first aiming down sights, then you risk sinking a bullet into someone you love.’ Those words remain with him—remind him what means to stay in control. 

But when it involves the people he loves, Mark can’t always regulate the ticking bomb counting down in his soul. 

An ache settles in his chest as he recalls the passionate fire in your gaze. There’s always been some parts of you that reminds Mark of his past friend, specifically your stubbornness and inability to think before you act. He’s never found himself hating those parts of you until now—and he shouldn’t, Mark knows that, but he’s so fucking angry and so fucking scared of losing yet another one of the most important people in his life.

He’s experienced his fair share of loss, but losing you… It would break him. Completely. 

Mark tries to push the intrusive thoughts from the forefront of his mind and focus on navigating his way through the dark maze of headstones and crumbling tombs. Right after you slammed your front door in his face, he received a text from Youngjae summoning him, Jisung and Lia to an emergency meeting at the edge of the cemetery. He’s still mad at the siphoner for assisting with your reckless scheme, but he won’t allow his pettiness to interfere with the safety of the coven. 

A sigh falls from his lips—he does regret ever saying those ending words to you though… because what if they’re the last ones you hear from him. 

‘I’m so sorry, Jackson…’ 

Mark’s misery is forgotten when he notices a group of people up ahead. He recognizes Lia, Jisung and Youngjae flocked together inside a chalk-white circle surrounded by lit torches. For a moment, Mark wonders if they’re in the middle of performing some type of seance, but his curiosity dwindles into confusion when he grows aware of the panic present in each set of their features. 

He breaks into a sprint to cover more distance, approaching the strangely placed trio in no time. At the sight of him, Lia immediately bursts into tears, furthering the anxiety bubbling at the back of his throat. 

“What the hell is going on!?” 

“Hyung! You have to get out of here right now!” Mark notices the swollen, angry flesh of Youngjae’s bottom lip as he speaks, along with the ugly bruise underneath his left eye. 

“What happened?” He ignores the siphoner’s warnings, attempting to reach inside the circle and grab Lia’s arm. However, his hand is met with resistance—a boundary spell. “Who did this to you?” 

Lia sobs, “Just go, Mark! Before he hurts you!” 

“Before who hurts me!? What are you—” His demands die in his throat as another figure appears from behind a large, marble gravestone. He immediately recognizes the newcomer, which sends even more confusion through his veins. “Seo Changbin? What the hell is this?” 

“It’s an emergency meeting, hyung.” Mark feels his entire body freeze when the familiar, conniving voice enters his ears. “You had me a little worried… I almost thought you wouldn’t show up.” 

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Mark whirls around to face a smirking Minho cockily leaning against the wall of an empty tomb. “What kind of game do you think you’re playing, Minho?”

The younger witch shrugs before pushing off the wall to pace around the area. As he draws closer and closer, Mark can spy an ancient, navy blue ring sitting heavily on his forefinger. He’s never seen any piece of jewelry like it before, but something in his gut told him it wasn’t just a simple ring—and that he’s definitely in some kind of trouble. 

“Mind explaining to me what we’re doing here? Or are you just going to continue pacing around the place like a cocky bastard?” 

“Tonight is a special night, hyung… You wanna know why?” He watches Minho point to the night sky, “In just a few minutes, the moon will drift into the Earth’s shadow and the light of the sun will reflect across the moon’s surface, thus causing a blood moon… It’s actually pretty cool—” 

“For Christsake, Minho—get to the goddamn point.”

“You know, for years I had to deal with all your bullshit excuses and justifications of putting our coven in danger—it was only a matter of time until one of us ended up dead, don’t you think?” 

A bitter memory of Nayeon’s corpse resurfaces, but Mark remains silent. 

“Everyone was too fucking blind, but I saw right through you.” Mark doesn’t move a muscle when Minho suddenly approaches, crowding his space until his nose is mere inches from brushing his own. The younger witch’s harsh glare bleeds into his soul as he continues, “You’re a poor fucking excuse for a leader, hyung—a leader who can’t even protect his own people.” 

“And you think you can do better, huh?” Mark growls, glaring his own daggers into Minho’s gaze. “You have no fucking clue what it takes to run this coven… Admit it, you’re just pissed they chose me over you.” 

“And look where that got them.” 

“You need to cut out whatever petty bullshit this is and let Youngjae, Jisung and Lia go.” Mark murmurs, “Whatever problems you have are with me, so let’s just talk it out, okay?” 

“Oh, Mark-hyung…” Minho’s gaze is unwavering from his own as he lifts a hand to rest on Mark’s shoulder. It’s a second too late that Mark realizes it is the same hand in which holds the mysterious ring: 

“I’m over talking it out.” 

Youngjae’s screams and Lia’s sobs echo in his ears along with the words that spill from Minho’s lips—they’re foreign, but Mark recognizes the spell right away. He tries to squirm and fight against the perpetrator’s grip, but another pair of hands keep his body in place—Changbin. 

Bit by bit, Mark feels the buzz of his magic lift from his veins like a flock of doves. His limbs grow weak and his head fuzzy. Soon enough, his own knees no longer bear the strength to hold his weight. Once both Minho and Changbin release him, Mark collapses to the ground—empty and unable to rise. 

“What did you do to him!?” Mark hears Jisung’s voice for the first time, although his brain is not fully able to comprehend the inquiry. 

“I took his magic. He won’t be needing it anymore.” 

Mark manages to find enough strength to reposition his body in a way that allows him to watch both Minho and Changbin approach a makeshift altar composed of an old, concrete coffin. Through the blur of his vision, he catches the witch stirring some kind of crimson mixture—likely blood. Minho looks to the moon, which is slowly brightening to a shade of maroon, before resting his gaze on his companion: 

“It’s time.” He offers the mixture to Changbin, “Once you drink this, I can begin the transformation.” 

“And you’re sure this spell will give me everything I need to take down the Primes?” 

“One hundred percent.” 

Take down the Primes?… Fucking hell. 

“Minho! Don’t do this!” Mark can’t make out his own voice between the ringing of his ears and the beating of his heart, but he can only hope they’re audible enough for his audience. “The transformation—it won’t work!” 

Youngjae shakes his head. “I don’t understand… What are you talking about, hyung?” 

“He’s going to try to recreate the spell I used on Jackson on Changbin.” With a huff and a puff, Mark pushes himself to his hands and knees. He attempts to crawl forward, but the spinning of his head sends his body sprawling along the ground once again. He abandons any more thoughts of movement and speaks to Minho directly, “It will kill him—do you understand me!? You can’t—” 

“You failed because you couldn’t draw enough power to complete the transformation.” Minho doesn’t even bother to look in his direction, “It will work—I know it will.”

Understanding there’s no possible way to convince the witch, Mark looks to the werewolf instead, “I’m warning you, Changbin! If you go through with this, you will die!” 

“Don’t listen to him. Just drink the blood.” 

“No! For fucksake, this is suicide!” 

“Think of Jackson.” Minho murmurs to a torn Changbin, reaching across the altar to place a supportive hand on his shoulder. “Do it for him.” 

“Changbin, don’t—!” 

Mark watches in horror as Changbin throws back the mixture and downs its entirety in two gulps. His heart shatters like the glass vial the werewolf launches to the ground. He peers to his left, discovering the same shocked expressions across Youngjae, Jisung and Lia’s faces, and shakes his head in defeat as Lia begins to sob again. 

“Filia maximo… Filia maximo… Morsus, morsus—” The wind begins to screech as Minho chants, tearing at Mark’s hair and nudging at his clothes, as if pleading for him to stop the spell. But there’s nothing he can do. For once, Mark is powerless. “—morsus… Advenio donec duo est revertus mors…” With a loud scream, Changbin collapses to the earth. He squirms and writhes in pain underneath the flaming light of the moon—and Mark can’t help but attempt to block out the snaps of his cracking bones. 

The scene seems to last for hours until Changbin eventually grows silent. Mark takes the time to catch his breath, unable to control his lungs over the anxiety, fear and nausea lurking through his veins. He wants to look away from the still werewolf, but his gaze is as frozen as the rest of his body. 

His eyes burn with tears of rage—Changbin is dead. Another person died because of his own fucking stupidity. Mark should have known this would happen again. He should have stopped it. He should have—

His thoughts disappear as Changbin suddenly gasps for air. For a moment, he claws at the earth as if attempting to ground himself, before he finally, albeit shakily, climbs to his feet. Minho cautiously approaches the wolf, peering down at the shorter male with a gaze full of concern. 

“How do you feel?...” 

“I feel…” Changbin flexes his fingers again, before closing them into tight fists. The moonlight illuminates the crimson glow of his irises and the sharpness of his long, black fangs as he faces the witch—a malicious smirk spreading along his lips as he chuckles, “I feel like kicking some ancient Prime ass.” 

Mark can’t find the strength to watch anymore and allows his head to lower to the earth. Just before his eyes flutter shut, he swears he spots the movement of shadows from behind a nearby headstone. But before he can confirm his suspicions, his head takes one final spin and the world grows dark. 

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

June 13th, 1769 — As much as I enjoy the atmosphere of Paris, I believe it is time to progress onto another part of the world. Some of the townsfolk are beginning to grow suspicious, considering I appear twenty years younger than my supposed age. Nevertheless, I will not mind a new start elsewhere. Jaebeom, on the other hand, will be a terror to convince. As he claimed last time I brought the idea to light, ‘There will never be a place more beautiful than Paris.’

But I know he is not through playing with his newest toy—Tzuyu. 

I set sail for the newlands tomorrow at sunrise. Whether my brother decides to accompany me or not is solely his preference. It would be pleasant to spend some time apart—to spend some time in peace—but I know, with many complaints and reluctance, Jaebeom will board the ship tomorrow. Wherever I traverse, he follows, and vice versa. We are family, after all. 

I will miss Notre Dame the most. I have grown used to visiting the Cathedral and repenting my wrongdoings to the high priest. Of course, I am forced to erase his memory of our talks each time, but it is nice to confess. It lifts a weight off of the shoulders, takes away a small portion of the guilt. If there is a god, he would never allow a creature like me to walk amongst his heavens—but at least I can salvage the lingering hope left inside of my soul. Speaking of hope, I thought I saw a woman that resembled Irene during my daily visit to the church. I find it amusing that after all these years, my heart continues to yearn for her presence. She was truly special—I wonder if she ever thought the same of me. 

I’ve heard some of the sailors refer to a shore in the newland that has yet to be claimed. It may be the perfect location for Jaebeom and I to start anew.  I can only hope it is as beautiful as people say. Maybe I will construct a place of worship as stunning as the Cathedral. 

Isn’t that ironic?... A vampire who believes in faith. 

Jinyoung finishes the entry with a sigh, welcoming the nostalgia that spreads through his thoughts like an old friend. It seems just yesterday that he recorded his first thoughts about the land that would become Moon Dye Bay. He shakes his head, carefully setting the old journal back on the bookshelf. 

He never did build that church. 

“Reminiscing again, brother?” The moment is ruined when a certain hybrid’s snicker reaches his ears. Jinyoung rolls his eyes as Jaebeom takes residence beside him, dragging his fingers along the spines of Jinyoung’s other diaries. “We did have some great times back in the 18th century… Remember our battles during the French Revolution? I rather enjoyed King Louis and Marie Antoinette’s executions.” 

“You enjoy anything that involves bloodshed.” 

“Don’t be so resentful, Jinyoungie. It’s not my fault that the queen had you in her interests.” 

Jinyoung shakes his head before retreating to his desk to fix himself a drink. “The woman was as shallow as a poor soul’s ego. She was taken with any man who’d pay her the time of day. It was a miracle her death came as quickly as it did.” 

“Careful there. You sound like me.” 

Jinyoung deliberately chooses not to respond to Jaebeom’s comment and proceeds to pour two glasses of bourbon. He ignores his companion’s wide smirk as he hands him one of the drinks. Both the vampire and the hybrid simultaneously take a sip, peering at one another over the rims of their cups. Jaebeom is the first to break the silence with a pleased inhale and a hum: 

“You returned pretty late last night. I hope you used protection during your time with (Y/N).” 

“Mind your tongue, hyung.” Jinyoung warns, “I brought (Y/N) to the hospital after the attack—I trust you took care of Tzuyu?” 

Jaebeom smirks. “Of course. She won’t be alive long enough to target your newest Maria Antonia again.” 

About to inhale another sip of his bourbon, Jinyoung pauses to mull over the answer. He lowers his glass to his side before delivering Jaebeom a confused expression and a murmured inquiry, “What do you mean she won’t be alive?” 

“Tzuyu and I got into an argument and, well, she pissed me off.” Jinyoung watches Jaebeom down the rest of his drink. 

“Please tell me you didn’t bite her, Jaebeom-hyung.” He curses at the widening of Jaebeom’s smirk, slamming his glass back down on his desk with enough force to crack its exterior. “When I told you to deal with her, I didn’t mean condemn her to a fate of pain. If you wished to kill her, you could have at least been merciful and done it quick.” 

“Last I checked, you said it yourself not to be kind.” Jinyoung follows Jaebeom as he pours himself another drink and collapses onto a brown, leather sofa. He tips his glass toward him with a smile before continuing, “I thought the punishment fit the crime, and we wouldn’t want to put helpless, human (Y/N) in danger again, would we?” 

“You turned it off, didn’t you?” Jinyoung realizes, “Does holding onto your humanity wound you that badly, hyung? That you have no choice but to wish it away?” 

“If I remember correctly, I’m not the only one that can’t hold onto their humanity… How many people did you kill in the ‘20s alone? One thousand? Maybe two?” 

Jinyoung shakes his head, “I’m not that person anymore.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” In the blink of an eye, Jaebeom is in front of Jinyoung—his glass in pieces on the floor beside him. He leans in until Jinyoung can taste the alcohol of his breath on his tongue, then whispers darkly, “You can lie to yourself all you fucking want, Jinyoung. But deep down, you’ll always know what you are… let’s just hope (Y/N) never finds out, hm?” 

At the mention of your name, Jinyoung’s anger expands. He suppresses the urge to take the table beside him and smash it over the hybrid’s head, and instead inhales a deep breath. Jaebeom is only trying to provoke him—and he refuses to be a pawn in his foolish games. 

“You will remember what it was like to feel human again.” Jinyoung sighs, “For your sake, I hope your remembrance comes sooner rather than later.” 

Jaebeom tsks, “Being human is overrated.” 

“He said the same thing about fate.” Both Jinyoung and Jaebeom whirl around at the appearance of a third voice. Jinyoung feels his blood begin to boil at the sight of the familiar vampire in the doorway, once again, suppressing his desire to launch a piece of furniture in her direction. “Ironically, fate and humanity are a package deal.” 

Jaebeom growls, “What the fuck are you doing here, Tzuyu?” 

“I came to try and convince you to give me your blood.” Tzuyu coughs, and Jinyoung swears he can hear the rattle of her bones. “But judging by your attitude, that’s obviously going to be harder than I thought.” 

“You have courage for showing your face again.” Jinyoung crosses his arms with a dark hum, “Especially so soon after you nearly killed (Y/N).”

“It wasn’t my intention to kill her. I just wanted to send a message.” 

“Is that so?” With a malicious glare, Jinyoung steps forward and tilts his head toward the vampire, “And what kind of message was that?” 

“For (Y/N) to stay away from Jaebeom.” Another violent cough wracks through Tzuyu’s thin form, causing a light stream of blood to splatter from her lips. She wipes her mouth with a ragged breath before continuing, “Look, I did it for her own good. We all know his track record at keeping humans alive.” 

“You did it to protect her!?” Jaebeom cackles, “Wow! That’s fucking priceless!” 

“Say what you will, you both know I’m right.” Tzuyu says, propping herself up against a nearby bookshelf. “It’s either she ends up dead or is turned into a vampire—then again, there’s not much of a difference between the two, is there?” 

“I would die before I allow (Y/N) to come to any harm.” 

“The only issue with that is you can’t die, Jinyoung.” Jinyoung doesn’t take his eyes off Tzuyu as she grabs a bottle of brandy from the top shelf. It takes her literal seconds to unscrew the cap and down a good portion of the container. She licks her lips and says, “I’m sorry I attacked (Y/N), okay? I went too far. I won’t do it again.” 

“You think an apology is enough to save your life?” Jaebeom snickers before snatching the alcohol from the vampire, “Think again, sweetheart.” 

“What do you want from me, Jaebeom? Does seeing me die a slow, painful death bring you joy?” 

He shrugs, “No one mourns for the wicked.” 

“Is he always this much of an asshole?” 

Jinyoung chuckles, “Pretty much.” 

“Great.” The vampire breathes out a sigh and cards her fingers through her hair. After a brief moment of silence, she directs her attention back to Jaebeom and pleads—her voice packed with desperation and fear, “What can I do to convince you to let me live? Please, Jaebeom… I don’t want to die.” 

“You should have thought about that before you touched what I told you not to.” Jinyoung remains quiet as Jaebeom lifts a hand to grasp Tzuyu’s jaw. The dying visitor remains unphased, proceeding to glare at the hybrid with hateful, yet oddly sorrowful eyes. “I suggest you show yourself out before I end your life sooner.” 

“You’re going to lose everything one of these days, Jaebeom.” Tzuyu shakes her head sadly, wiping away a layer of cold sweat from her forehead. “You’re going to lose everyone, even your brother, and you’re going to be alone. For an eternity.” 

“Save the monologue.” Jaebeom waves dismissively, taking a sip of the brandy before returning it back to its shelf. “Petty isn’t a good look for you, baby.” 

“Fuck you, Jaebeom.” Tzuyu goes to stomp out the door, but something—someone blocks her path. The atmosphere changes when Jinyoung notices your panicked form, practically gasping for air and cross-eyed, standing in the doorway. He immediately speeds to your side without hesitation, grasping your hands in hopes to ground you. 

He stares into your eyes, “What is it, (Y/N)? What’s wrong?” 

“You and Jaebeom have to get the hell out of here! Right now!” 

Jaebeom shakes his head in confusion, “What the hell are you talking about?” 

“I don’t know what exactly happened but Minho turned Changbin into this dark werewolf creature or-or something… I do know, however, that Changbin is on his way right now to kill you both.” Jinyoung steps back at the intensity of your explanation, unable to think of a response over the roar of his thoughts. Through his peripheral vision, he can spot the same type of speechlessness across Jaebeom’s face. 

Not again… 

“That’s stupid… You realize nothing can kill them, right?” Tzuyu scoffs. 

“This is different.” You urge, “I saw Changbin—he wasn’t like anything I’ve ever seen before… The spell that Minho used, it was-was—” 

“Dark magic.” Jinyoung finishes blankly, “The spell was dark magic.” 

“Yes… which means you and Jaebeom need to leave town as fast as you possibly can before—” 

“I don’t think anyone is going anywhere, (Y/N).” Jinyoung’s entire body grows stiff as a new voice echoes throughout the study. He cautiously turns his head, discovering none other than the young werewolf in question resting among the shadows. His eye also catches the open window a few inches away, and he curses himself for ever wanting to feel the nightly draft. 

Changbin’s smirk is as dark as his eyes. 

“What?... Not going to offer me a drink?” 

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“(Y/N)! Get out of here! Now!” Jaebeom hears Jinyoung scream as the werewolf suddenly launches forward, knocking his brother into the bookshelf behind him. The wood completely splinters beneath the impact, raining down an array of books and planks on Jinyoung’s body. Changbin turns to Jaebeom next, but the hybrid is ready—and pissed off. 

Jaebeom speeds toward the intruder and delivers a swift kick to the gut. Changbin flies back at the force, crashing back through the window with a loud growl. Sensing the urgency in time, Jaebeom quickly throws Jinyoung’s immobile body over his shoulder and urges both you and Tzuyu out the study door. 

“Come on! We gotta go!” 

“Jaebeom! What the hell is happening!?” He ignores Tzuyu’s fearful ask and proceeds to lug Jinyoung through the maze of hallways and down the staircase, you and the female vampire hot on his heels. He doesn’t know exactly where he’s going, but he makes his way to the parlor where he props Jinyoung up against a nearby chair before turning to you: 

“You need to leave. I will deal with this.” 

“No way. I’m not going anywhere.” Jaebeom curses your stubbornness inside his head, sending a stern glare in your direction. Your expression remains fixated, and he can’t help but wish your presence in any other situation but now. 

“I can’t protect you right now—” 

“And I can’t sit back and watch you get yourselves killed!” You shake your head indignantly, “I’m staying!” 

“Fucking hell, (Y/N)! Get your ass out that door before I throw you out myself!” 

“Jaebeom, watch out!” At Tzuyu’s cue, a wooden branch comes soaring in through the window. Jaebeom immediately throws himself against you, effectively forcing your body to the ground to dodge the projectile. He can feel your fear through the trembling of your limbs and hurried breaths, but it only brings him more determination to tear apart his attacker. 

He shakes his head in surrender, “You stay on the fucking ground, understand? Don’t you fucking dare move a muscle.” He doesn’t bother to wait for a response and pushes himself back to his feet. 

Tzuyu is huddled in a corner, and Jinyoung has yet to awaken from his crash landing back in the study. Jaebeom tries to focus his senses on detecting the werewolf, but he can’t seem to hear anything past the beating of his own heart. He carefully makes his way over to the incapacitated vampire, attempting to force him back to consciousness. 

“Now is really not the time for a fucking nap, Jinyoung.” He hisses, “I swear to god, if I have to save your ass one more time—” Another wave of tree branches come crashing through the windows. Unfortunately, Jaebeom is not as quick and one catches his shoulder at just the right angle. He feels the wood sink into his flesh, painfully carving into his bones. With a low groan, Jaebeom manages to grab the makeshift stake and remove it in one hefty pull. 

He tosses it away with a yell, “You gonna hide like a little bitch!? Or are you gonna come out and fight like a man!?” 

“Be careful what you wish for, asshole!” Jaebeom turns just in time to discover the werewolf emerging from a shattered window. His blood boils when he notices the sadistic grin along the young kid’s face—he wonders how those teeth will look strewn across the parlor floor. 

Changbin comes at him fast, much faster than Jaebeom could have predicted. He manages to dodge a set of jabs, but he’s not so lucky when Changbin lands a heavy hit against the side of his face. Pain erupts through his jaw as he collapses to the floor, but Jaebeom doesn’t have the chance to dwell over it and rolls out of the way just as the werewolf attempts to stomp his nose. 

Jaebeom tries to speed away again, but like before, his counterpart is faster. Changbin manages to force him to the floor for a second time, pinning his body down with his own. Horrified, the hybrid watches as the werewolf’s eyes glow blood red and large, pitch black fangs emerge past his parted lips. Once again, he attempts to break free, but it’s no use—Changbin is too strong. 

Just when he believes the wolf’s fangs are going to sink into his neck, another form knocks Changbin away. Jaebeom hurriedly props himself on his arms in time to watch Tzuyu deliver a series of hits and kicks to the perpetrator, eventually slamming his head into a nearby armoire. Taking advantage of the moment, she turns from Changbin to Jaebeom instead: 

“Grab Jinyoung and (Y/N) and run!” She screams, “Get the hell of here!” 

Unable to move, Jaebeom remains as Tzuyu attempts to fight off the wolf. But with the combination of his ultimate strength and her weakness from Jaebeom’s venom, her defeat is inevitable. He watches in terror as Changbin sinks his teeth into the vampire’s arm before yanking her head forward and effectively snapping her neck. Jaebeom feels his insides practically soar with rage when the attacker tosses a comatose Tzuyu across the room like a useless toy. 

“I’ll kill you…” He sneers, allowing his own supernatural features to overtake his face. “I’ll fucking kill you…” 

Changbin shakes his head with a smirk, “I’d like to see you try.” 

Using the little agility he has left, Jaebeom grabs one of the branches and speeds toward the wolf. Due to Changbin’s movements, he misses his chest, but manages to stab the weapon in his stomach. Changbin releases a pained groan, allowing Jaebeom to take advantage of his surprise and land another array of uppercuts to his face. Just when he finally thinks he has the upper hand, his opponent blocks one of his hits and pins him against a wall with a hand around his throat. 

“Any last words, Prime?”

“You really think you can kill me?” Jaebeom growls, squirming against Changbin’s hold. 

“I know I can… Have fun rotting in Hell—fuck!” 

Shock spills through Jaebeom’s veins as the point of branch suddenly appears through the center of the wolf’s chest, splattering red across both of their bodies. Changbin’s grip releases, allowing the hybrid to quickly speed out of his reach. Once he’s a safe distances away, Jaebeom looks to his savior, discovering the one person he never expected to see—

You stand over Changbin’s body—chest heaving and bloodied hands trembling. Your eyes are glassy when Jaebeom meets your gaze, and for some reason, he feels the urge to go and pull your form into a tight embrace. Your voice, however, returns his mind to reality: 

“Did I… Did I kill him?” 

“I don’t think so.” Jaebeom answers, nursing his wound with his own shaky fingers. “We need to get out of here—get somewhere safe.” 

“Good idea.” You trudge over to where Jinyoung is still unconsciously laid across the chair. Jaebeom follows your lead and hurries over to a lifeless Tzuyu. “I know somewhere we can go… but I don’t think you’re going to like it.” 

“(Y/N)... There is an immortal, unkillable super wolf out to kill me and my brother currently in my living room…”  He snorts, maneuvering Tzuyu’s body into one arm and assisting you and Jinyoung with the other. 

“Trust me, anywhere is a hell of a lot better than here…”

#got7 #got7 fanfic #got7 fic #got7 imagines #got7 x reader #got7 angst #got7 smut #got7 au #im jaebeom #im jaebum x reader #im jaebeom fanfic #mark tuan #mark tuan fanfic #mark tuan x reader #jackson wang #jackson wang x reader #jackson wang fanfic #park jinyoung #park jinyoung x reader #park jinyoung fanfic #kpop fanfic #kpop au

[neworleansspecial]

for black! au what if Athena was doing a high profile investigation and it somehow led to Buck but when she pursued the lead it got shut down leading her to ask Eddie and Maddie questions

she doesn't get around to questioning Maddie/Eddie but enjoy some "Buck gets Arrested" content! //

Athena has been working this case for what feels like forever. A prominent international environmental activist was murdered in what was clearly an assassination, and it's been her precinct, her people, leading the investigation with a helping hand from the FBI, trying to figure out what happened. It's more than just who did it, but why, and who made them, because there's no doubt that this was a professional hit.

The investigation has been stalled for a few weeks when one of the rookie officers comes racing up to her desk with a flash drive in his hand, out of breath from running.

"Yes, Officer Martin?"

"Look what we found." He hands her the drive, which she immediately plugs into her computer to explore the contents of. "Most of the security cameras were disabled, but the baby monitor wasn't. The monitor was destroyed, as I'm sure you remember, but the company finally got us the footage. Our killer is on here!"

She searches through the files to find the last one, labeled with the date of the murder. "Have you seen it yet?"

"We thought you should be the first."

"Go get Agent Prentiss."

The rookie scurries off to get the FBI agent from the Captain's office while Athena loads the video up. She remembers the time frame the ME gave them and scrubs through the progress bar towards it, catching their victim looking up in surprise, presumably at their murderer's entrance just as Agent Prentiss pulls up a chair beside her.

"What are the odds our guy will be in the system?" Athena asks.

"A hit like this? Not good."

The monitor catches their perp walking in, his back to the camera. He looks familiar. Although she can't see his face, and the video is in black and white, she feels like she recognizes the slope of his shoulders.

"He's got tattoos," Prentiss notes. "That'll help. Two black lines on the forearm."

Athena's heart drops. This can't be right.

"And look, on his other bicep. That's a bar code."

Prentiss reaches around Athena to screencap the moment.

"This could be a problem. In our experience at the Bureau, two types of people use bar codes like that. Sex traffickers, to dehumanize their victims, and powerful government agencies, to identify bodies. I doubt this is that first one."

Their perp pulls out a gun and shoots the victim without hesitation. It's simple. One shot. A silencer was used, so no one heard. The victim never had the chance to get off their couch.

And then he turns around, and notices the monitor, stalking towards it to break it, at which point the feed cuts off. His face is imprinted in Athena's mind. She's seen it before. With her family. In her home. She talked to him just yesterday.

"Sergeant Grant, are you okay?"

Athena clears her throat. "I recognize him."

Prentiss rewinds the video to right before the perp broke the camera, his face in clear view. Even if Athena didn't recognize him, the birth mark would be a dead giveaway.

"That's Evan Buckley. I'm friends with his sister, Maddie, and his husband, Eddie. I'm friends with him." She looks away from the video. "I had him over for dinner last night."

"Do you know where he is?"

Mere minutes later, Athena and Prentiss are in her squad car, on their way to Eddie's apartment. Backup trails behind them, though Athena hopes they won't have to use it. They don't speak. Athena is struggling to reconcile the Evan who helps May with her math homework and babysits Jee-Yun and helped Bobby bake her a birthday cake is the same person who she just watched kill someone in cold blood. It's not him, even if he has always been a little off.

"Do you want me to do it?" Prentiss asks when they pull up in front of Eddie's house. "You don't have to be the one to bring him in."

"It's my job."

They walk up to Eddie's front door together, but it is Athena who knocks. Eddie answers the door in sweatpants and a hoodie that's just a little too big for him- Evan's hoodie, then.

"Athena? Is everything okay?"

"Is Evan home?"

He looks concerned, but he steps to the side to let her and Prentiss in, giving them a view of Evan sitting at the kitchen table with Christopher. The two of them appear to be playing some kind of board game. When Evan first sees them, Athena in her uniform and Prentiss projecting an air of authority, she can see the wheels turning in his brain. He glances toward the kitchen window. Then to the front door. Then back at her.

"Not in front of them," he says quietly. "Not in front of Chris and Eddie."

Athena will give him that much. "Step outside with us."

As he gets up, Evan kisses Christopher on the forehead and tells him to be good for his father, and then goes to Eddie, who he pulls into a tight hug.

"Evan, what's going on?" she hears Eddie whisper.

"It'll be okay," Evan assures.

Finally, he follows Athena and Prentiss out the door. The second that it clicks shut behind him, he presents his arms, as though he's been through this whole thing before. Maybe he has. It seems as though everything Athena knew about him was wrong.

"You don't need to read me my rights," he tells her.

Prentiss tilts her head to the side. "Legally, we have to."

"I'm not going to be in custody for long."

They read him his rights before putting him in the back of the car anyways.

For the entire drive back to the station, Evan is silent. He stares out the window, looking entirely unconcerned. Not once does he ask them what this is about, or how they found him out, or what's going to happen with him. For all the reaction he gives, it's like they're all taking a trip to the beach. He remains quiet even when Athena hauls him out of the squad car and into the precinct.

That's when things go bad.

Athena's captain is waiting at her desk, alongside Prentiss' coworker, Jareau, and two men in suits that look extremely official. "Sergeant Grant," her captain says, "please uncuff Mr. Buckley."

"We have him on tape committing murder."

"That evidence has been reviewed and found unreliable," one of the men in suits says.

Prentiss crosses her arms. "How was it unreliable?"

"Please uncuff Mr. Buckley," is the only response she gets.

Against her better judgement, Athena turns to Evan. He holds out his wrists to her once more, and watches her as she uncuffs him. There's no malice or anger in his eyes. They're blank. Almost like he's looking right through her.

"And who are you?" she asks.

"All you need to know is that your police department, and every other department in this country, defers to us. Come now, Mr. Buckley, we'll get you some coffee and explain this whole thing."

Evan leaves Athena's side to be led off by the two men, though when he casts a glance back at her over his shoulder, she gets the distinct sense that he's trying to tell her something.

#athena grant #evan buckley #emwrite #black!au

[ezgithechaotic]

The Parent Trap | Chapter Four; a stroke of (bad) luck

pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

AU: The Parent Trap,  dad!harry

series summary:  Identical twins Benjamin and Edward, separated at birth and each raised by one of their biological parents, later discover each other for the first time at summer camp and make a plan to bring their wayward parents back together.

chapter summary; Y\N gets interesting news, Harry loses something he cares a lot.

author note; I’ve been dealing with my university application for a long time so I haven’t had the chance to write anything lately. And I know it’s pretty short, I promise it will get longer in the next chapters. It’s been a while but here we are.

I’m sorry in advance if I have any fault. English is not my first language. My askbox is always open if you want to talk. Please leave a comment about what you think, love you.  

Taglist is open. (12\20) (You can see the taglist in the comments.)

The Parent Trap Masterlist

It had been a week since Edward left for camp, and Y\N lost herself to work. Despite Nate's tries, Y\N rarely left her study room. All she did was to answer e-mails and design new clothes. Whenever she stopped working, her mind was starting to operate like a mad woman's.  As if worrying about Edward wasn't enough, she had been thinking about Harry non-stop too. She had tried to stay away from the thought of him for a long time, but lately, it seemed like an impossible thing to do. She was thinking about him before going to bed, as she was eating, drinking. The only thing that kept her mind away from Harry was working. 

As she waited for her team, laying on one of the lounge chairs by the pool, Y\N's mind started to work like mad, again. It was the first time in a week that she let herself breathe, but allowing herself to do that only felt like torturing. It's been nearly nine years, but he still had this power over her that she hated. 

As she laid in the sun with her sunglasses on and her eyes closed, she could feel her body and the bottle of coke in her hand warming up. Sometimes Y\N hated California hot. She missed how London was always chill and foggy. Many people despised London's weather, but Y\N never felt that belonging feeling anywhere but in London. Maybe it had been the people. She could never be sure, but if there was one thing she was sure it was that she was, definitely, homesick. Y\N was brilliant and one of the best designers around the world. She had done everything she could to make her dreams come true. She had been working on her upcoming winter collection and the collaboration she was going to make with Gucci. But the only thing she was thinking was the emptiness inside her. 

Why wasn't it enough?

The sound of a car pulling in her front veranda pulled Y\N away from her thoughts. She straightened up and took a sip from her coke. When she heard noises coming from inside the house, she made her way to the kitchen. Nate must have allowed everyone in, she thought. As she entered through the garden door, the cold air hit her body, giving her goosebumps. She put her half-empty coke bottle on the kitchen counter and took her sunglasses out. Her smile widened as Y\N approached her team, waiting for her in the living room. 

Y\N adored her team. She always tried and considered other's opinions on her designs. That's why her team included every type of person. She wanted to make a difference, do something that would affect people, whether the way that they dressed or thought. Y\N wanted to help people express themselves, and the best way to express yourself was through your clothes. So, she created a whole new brand for people who couldn't talk about who they were. 

In the living room, Nate was handing snacks out, and there were clothes everywhere that would fill a wardrobe. Her sketches were laying on the big wooden table, and a few interns were watching with horrified looks. She could see that sweet chaos wandering around the room. One of the interns, Hailey, jumped to her feet as soon as she saw Y\N. 

"Hi, Mrs. Y\L\N! We were waiting for you." Y\N could see she was shaking. So, she smiled at her, trying to ease the tension. "Please, Hailey, call me Y\N." 

Hailey sucked a load of breath and turned to her friend, shocked. "She knows my name," she whispered. Y\N giggled when she heard her. Nate was watching her with a smile on his face, knowing Y\N was finally carefree. She stood in the middle of the room as everyone waited for her to say something. She smiled.

"So, let's start then." 

-

As Harry kept wandering around the room looking for his cardigan, he made Sarah and Mitch more and more annoyed. 

"Enough of it, Harry," Sarah said. "Just accept that it's lost." 

"I was wearing it yesterday. I must have left it here." His frustration grew when he was left empty-handed. Harry slumped down on the closest couch with a puff. He was hoping to find it in the studio, but regardless of hours of searching, he couldn't find it. With closed eyes, he rested his head at the back of the couch, trying to remember where he might've left the cardigan. Harry had been so anxious because he very well knew it was a limited collection. So it wouldn't be possible to purchase a new cardigan if he couldn't find it. 

The door opened and closed after the sound of a few footsteps. Harry's eyes were still closed with a scowl on his face. 

"Is he still looking for it?" Jefferey asked Sarah Mitch was already up tuning his guitar. Sarah slowly nodded her head, turning towards Harry, knowing he was listening. "I don't think this is about the cardigan, though." 

Harry opened his eyes. "What would it be about?" still staring to the ceiling, "I just really loved that cardigan." He whispered under his breath. Mitch sighed knowingly and put his guitar down. "Why don't you guys go find Adam and Ny so we can practice." He said and planted a kiss on Sarah's hairline. "I'll call Jonathan Anderson and see if he can find you one," Jefferey said as he opened the door for Sarah, but his eyes were on Harry. He slowly nodded without saying anything.

"Do you want to talk?" Mitch leaned to the now-closed door.  Harry seemed like he was questioning his whole existence.  "We all know it isn't about the cardigan, H." 

"Do you think I made a mistake?" 

"With what?" Mitch knew, damn the whole world knew. But he let Harry say it because he needed to get it off of his chest. 

"With everything!" Harry leaned forward, cupping his face with his hands. He could feel the coldness of his rings. "With Camille, with proposing her. Do you think I just asked her to tell myself that I got over everything?"

That I got over Y\N...

"I don't think you need me to tell you none of us likes Camille. But it's not up to me or anyone to tell you that you're doing something wrong if you're happy." Mitch knew Harry was suffering despite his words.  "But if you're not happy and trying to hold onto a relationship that doesn't make you happy, you're just fooling yourself, mate." 

"It was going good, you know?" Harry started to play with his ring that was sitting on his middle finger since Y\N gave him for his nineteenth birthday. "I never thought someone could love me after Y\N. Even though nobody knew what happened between us, I was the reason why she left. I guess I punished myself for it by not allowing people to create any bond with me. After all those years, I thought I could finally be free from the burden I thought Camille would be the one.  But now, looking at her, I don't know if she's the one I want." Harry sighed. A million thoughts he couldn't control were wandering inside his brain. "And now ı lost one of the few connections I had with Y\N. It's like the universe saying to me to keep torturing myself." 

"There is no need to torture yourself, H. Maybe the fucking universe is trying to tell you to stop holding onto a carding and hold onto her instead. Believe me. It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if you just talked to her." 

-

Y\N could feel her migraine growing at the back of her head. She had been standing and putting clothes together for too long; she even lost her sense of time. Her attention turned to the model in front of her as he heard another click of a digital camera. 

"I don't like the color of this jacket. Do we have a blue one?" The moment she reached forth her hand find the jacket her assistant was holding up. Y\N kindly smiled and thanked her. She took the weird pink colored jacket from the model and threw away. The moment she was about to talk, Y\N heard her assistant talking. 

"Yeah, he's in California," Y\N smirked as she took a step closer. "Your boyfriend?" She asked. But she could see her assistant's face immediately changing, her lips frowning and her eyes having that weird look. 

"Oh, sorry, didn't mean to meddle. You don't have to say." Y\N took a step back, turning her old place. 

"No, it's okay." Maggie smiled, even though it didn't reach her eyes. "We were just talking about some singer." 

"He's not just some singer." A younger boy talked. Y\N assumed he was one of the interns. Maggie sent the boy a look, but he didn't seem to understand why everyone was so anxious to talk about him. "He's Harry Styles!" 

Y\N felt like she could blackout at any moment. Her lunch was climbing its way up, and anyone in the room could hear her heartbeat. He could be a block away from her. She could see him when she went out to get some coffee. Let alone coming across to him, even being in the same city, terrified her. The possibilities scared her so much she could run away from the country any minute. 

"I'm sorry, he's just new." Maggie apologized, thinking it made Y\N upset. 

"No, Mag, there's no need to be sorry." She tried to smile and stilling her breaths. "It's not like it's forbidden to talk about him." 

"Y\N," Nate calling her, pulled her away from the conversation. He was holding her phone. "It's Jonathan." Y\N's eyebrows furrowed, wondering why Jonathan Anderson was calling her out of the blue. She took her phone and stepped outside of the living room so she could hear him better. 

"Y\N, I need a favor." Jonathan talked at the end of the line sounding panicked and out of breath. 

"Hello to you too, Jonathan." She smiled, forgetting about Harry for a moment.  "Sorry, I was trying to catch a taxi. À l'aéroport, s'il vous plaît." Y\N giggled to her friend's anxiousness. 

"It's okay, what did you need?" 

Jonathan sighed. "You remember the patchwork cardigan from two falls ago you designed for my collection, right?"

"Yeah, sure. What about it?"

"Here's the thing." He stopped, asking the driver to drive faster. "One of my precious customers lost his cardigan and asking if we could find him one." 

"I thought it was limited." 

"It was. So, I promised to try and find one similar. But I don't have any cardigans in the collection this season. And since it was your design, I thought you could help me." 

Y\N took a deep breath, massaging her temple with her free hand. "You know I haven't put the collection up for sale yet, John." 

"I'll owe you big time." Y\N could hear the desperation in her friend's voice. "Fine, send me his address. I'll make sure he gets a few options." 

-

A day later, Y\N found herself at the entrance of the said man's house in California. Sunglasses resting on her nose, she took a look around the garden as she drove her way to the main door. The house, maybe naming it a mansion would be more appropriate, had a big garden full of Y\N's favorite flowers. The walls were white-painted, reflecting the afternoon sun. As she parked and took the boxes out of her trunk, she couldn't take her eyes off of the pink door. 

She ranged the bell, realizing she didn't even know the name of the man whose house she was about to step in.  A blue-eyed woman with purple pants opened the door for her. Y\N could recognize her design from a mile away. So, when she saw the pants, she smiled up at her.

"Hi, I'm here with the cardigans. Jonathan sent me." 

The moment Sarah realized who she was, she felt her heart racing. "You're Y\N Y\L\N!" 

"The one and only." She giggled. "Nica pants, by the way." 

Sarah couldn't talk for a few seconds. Not knowing if she should be excited or anxious, she invited her in. Harry was a room away, and Sarah had no idea what his reaction would be. She eventually invited her in and introduced herself. 

"Are the cardigans for your boyfriend?" Y\N asked, trying to learn the man's name. Sarah laughed despite her nervousness. "No, they are for my... well, he's my boss, I guess." 

Y\N slowly nodded. She didn't say anything not to be nosey, but a weird feeling was filling her. She stepped into the living room after Sarah. Then she saw him there, standing in his white pants and blue shirt, his hair a little messy, rings on his fingers and without any shoes. 

Time slowed around her, and Y\N could only see Harry for a moment. Out of breath, she tried to have a sense of her surroundings. But her brain stopped working, and the only thing it did was screaming. Her eyes burned from not winking, and she wanted to pinch herself to be sure that it was all real because it felt like a sweet dream. 

Her eyes met Harry's. 

Harry thought he was hallucinating. He had been thinking about her, too much, it was official now. His heart nearly exploded from his excitement. He didn't know if he should be excited. What if she was not real? What if, finally, he lost his mind? He was in a dream until he heard her velvet-like trembling voice.  

"Harry?" 

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction imagine #The parent trap #the parent trap au #the parent trap au moodboard #harry styles the parent trap au #harry style the parent trap au

[aiimaginesbts]

Eternal Summer (M)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Genre: Loads of Angst | Fluff mixed in between | Smut | Childhood friends to lovers AU Warnings: Language | Alcohol | Masturbating | Rough sex | Public sex Word Count: 39k+ words

Disclaimer/Copyright

Summary:  Breaking up with my boyfriend leaves an empty spot on the overseas vacation that I had been looking forward to for a long time. I’m torn between abandoning the trip or going it solo when someone offers to tag along. However, having Jimin, my best friend go with me may not be the best idea — since my crush on him has never gone away.

Author’s Note: This is my fic for the ‘The Summer Bucketlist’ writing event hosted by @jamaisjoons​ with ‘Go sightseeing on a vacation’ as my prompt.

This grin just can’t be wiped off my face. While I’m aware that people passing by me are shooting me weird looks thanks to my humming, I don’t want to stop for their sake. I can barely hold myself from skipping down the street, lined with leafy trees on one side and boutique stores on the other – I’m that excited. The merciless rays of the late sun are welcome on my skin after weeks of slaving away even more than usual at work just so I can enjoy this long awaited vacation. It has completely paid off, since I’ve managed to settle everything I needed to with one day to spare. Everyone – myself included – expected me to be toiling away until the last minute. I even packed my luggage in advance, little by little, whenever I could, since I didn’t think I would have time to do it. So, with everything ready and time to spare, I head towards the only place I could think of going when I don’t know what to do with myself.

After making a stop at Se Hoon’s favourite restaurant to order take-out for dinner, I continue on my way towards his apartment. Since I plan to make this a surprise visit, he might still be working. Still, another glance at my watch convinces me that he will definitely be at home. Se Hoon prefers to work from home, so unless there’s work that he must settle at the office, he’s usually home by this time, even if he has to continue working there. It might mean that I’ll be shooed away while he finishes, but I don’t care. I’m content to just watch him as I eat my dinner. As long as I’m with him. We’ll be going together on vacation the day after tomorrow, but there’s no harm in starting early, is there? Plus, I’ve been too busy to see him lately. And the few scant times I could manage to get some time off, he would be busy instead. It seems like we’ve been missing each other for a while now, and I just miss being with someone.

Another fifteen minutes of walking and an elevator ride to the eighteenth floor later, I arrive in front of Se Hoon’s dark brown apartment door. I hesitate, wondering if I should let myself in or announce myself first. It has been a while since I’ve arrived here on my own, but recalling the times he got grumpy because he was interrupted to open the door for me way in the beginning of our relationship, I pressed the keys to unlock his door. No sense making him stop whatever he’s doing and come for me when I can open the door on my own.

Although I’ve been telling myself that I’m perfectly happy just to be in his presence this evening, my lips purse into a disappointed pout when I notice a pair of unfamiliar women’s black pumps at the entrance. It’s rare for Se Hoon to have visitors to his house, other than myself, but I suppose it’s safe to say that he isn’t done with work. At least his co-worker is willing to come over, so he doesn’t have to stay in the office. Otherwise I’d have arrived at an empty house.

Not wanting to interfere with his work by calling out, I kick off my similar, but lower, heels next to hers and start making my way inside. It has been a while since I’d had time to visit, but the surroundings are pretty much the same as I remember it from last time. Neither of us are the type of people to periodically arrange furniture, or make any changes at all, for that matter. Some people may find it boring, but I’m comfortable in its familiarity.

However, just a few steps in and my eyes land on an unexpected sight. A dark blue tie, adorned with a tiny white diamond pattern, lying on the floor. Se Hoon’s tie. I remember giving it to him for his birthday several months ago. Then a light pink shirt that I don’t recognise – I don’t pride myself on knowing Se Hoon’s wardrobe inside and out, but this shirt is way too small for him. My feet slow to a stop, but my breathing becomes laboured; like I’m running a marathon. Even though I scream in my head in denial, telling myself to turn around and not to continue looking, my eyes betray me by straying ahead, following the trail of clothes into his bedroom.

“Se Hoon?” I call out without thinking, but my voice comes out a croak, volume barely a whisper. The world I thought I had built solidly enough is crumbling under the soles of my feet. Familiar comfort no longer.

“Looks like our plane is here.”

Although my eyes are wide open and the world is bright, blinding even; the light from the sun is relentlessly shining through the gigantic glass panes of the airport, everything looks like a blur to me. I see vague shapes moving inconsequentially in my field of vision, but I can’t make out anything. The world hasn’t righted itself after it got thrown off its axis just yet. I’m dimly aware of where I currently am, of what brought me to this point. And yet in my mind, I’m still frozen in Se Hoon’s apartment two days ago.

While words cannot describe my feelings at the moment, I’m sure whatever combination of letters that the dictionary can come up with won’t be anything good. It doesn’t help that the voice that calls my name repeatedly in attempts to bring me back to reality is noticeably higher than Se Hoon’s. No, it isn’t even that. I wouldn’t be this bothered if it were anyone else’s voice. However, my best friend’s insistence that I return to Earth and get ready to board the plane throws my emotions into a jumbled mess. Forcing myself back to the present time, the surroundings gradually come into focus, like a camera lens finally being adjusted properly. “People are still getting off the plane, Jimin,” I grumble, sinking myself further into the chair in the waiting area petulantly. Maybe I don’t want to board this airplane after all.

This empty feeling has seeped in from yesterday. After a fitful sleep, I’d gotten out of my bed to stare at my luggage, all ready and packed for the next day. I wasn’t sure what time it was then; I’d rolled out of bed onto the floor and turning back to look at the small clock on my nightstand had felt like it would have consumed too much energy. All I knew was that dawn had not even broken yet, as the light blue curtains of my room, so useless at blocking even the smallest bit of light, were still dim. As my eyes slowly adjusted to the dark and started to trace the royal blue strips lining the white canvas, I’d thought about the times I’d chucked the things I wanted to bring into the bag. When I’d seen a shirt that Jimin had said looked good on me, I’d thrown it in there. The cap he’d bought me on a whim after he’d dropped by my office for an impromptu lunch. A pair of socks that Jimin had insisted matched with the pair that he’d bought, just because both pairs have a striped motif. Earrings that he’d helped me choose because Se Hoon couldn’t make it for our date that day. Perhaps he couldn’t make it because of that woman, and not because of work, like he’d claimed.

Hours must have flown by as I’d sat there brooding. Not even sure what I was thinking about – was it really all about Se Hoon? My mind feels empty, but I couldn’t believe that I’d just been blankly staring at the luggage in the corner of my room for so long. And yet I must have had, because when the sound of my vibrating phone grated my ears, making me jump out of my reverie, the room was already bright despite the drawn curtains.

Groaning from grumpiness and the aching of my back and ass from sitting in one spot for so long, I’d braced my right palm on the still-cool floor to twist my body and reach for my phone. “Ugh.” My fingertips had brushed against it, causing it to move forward and teeter off the edge of my nightstand. The next round of vibrations had led to a losing battle with its balance, but thankfully I’d managed to catch it before it made contact with the hard floor. The scramble to play hero to save my phone had left me on both my elbows, horizontal against the floor. By this time, the call had become a missed one. Probably gone to voicemail, but that hadn’t stopped me from glaring at the offending device.

Before I could even look at the screen properly to check who had called, I heard the sharp beeping of my front door lock keypad, quickly followed by the chime indicating a successful breach and the softer click of the door opening to the intruder. Then a call of my name greeted my ears, betraying the identity of the visitor and setting my frayed nerves at ease. In a split second, however, my shock had melted away, leaving mild irritation in its wake. At first I didn’t want to answer him. Let him search the whole place, I’d thought pettily, even while knowing that my bedroom would have been the first place he’d check, then changed my mind. “In here.”

Trust him to hear me even though I’d hardly raised my voice. His chipper, “’Morning!” had reminded me that he didn’t have a clue to what had transpired the previous evening, leaving me torn between two choices; remain in my miserable mood and risk him prying for the reason behind it, or put up a cheerful front. I’m supposed to go for the vacation I’d been looking forward to so much, after all.

In the end, my “’morning,” had come out as a sullen reply. Simply couldn’t be bothered with pretence when this guy was concerned. With my partner for the trip automatically cancelling less than twenty-four hours ago, he was going to unearth the source of my moodiness sooner or later, even if I’d pretended there was nothing wrong.

“What’s wrong?” He’d immediately quipped at my tone, joining me on the floor.

I’d narrowed my eyes at the luggage I’d refused to tear my eyes away from. Still, it was always annoying when Jimin would zero in on me like that.

“Just.”

Jimin had rested his back against the side of the bed next to me, keeping mum instead of answering. I’d always hated that he knew exactly how to handle me at times like these. Several minutes had passed as I’d stewed in silence, then inevitably worked out what I’d wanted to say, like he’d known I would. I’d let one or two more minutes go by, just to spite him, but in the end I’d relented with a resolved sigh.

He’d taken the cue to open his mouth. “Wanna grab brunch?”

Is it that late already? I’d thought, unwillingly softening just a bit more when he didn’t automatically repeat his first question. “Not now.” Holding fast onto my vast – though slowly depleting – reserves of gloominess and fury, I’d willed my stomach not to grumble just then. Under strict orders from my highly distressed brain, my stomach had cowered and obeyed, even as his question had evoked pangs of hunger. Another sigh, then, “I don’t know if I’m going tomorrow,” I finally gave in to the inevitable need to confess, if not my need to eat.

“What? Why?” He’d leaned forward in surprise. I’d wished he hadn’t. Despite not having shed a single tear, I’d had no idea what sort of expression I was making, or whether I had any control over it. Thoughts had been racing through my mind at uncontrollable speeds. Obviously I hadn’t used the time I’d had to think this all the way through. Should I tell him that I’d broken up with Se Hoon?

I hadn’t wanted to.

“Se Hoon has urgent business to attend to and can’t make it.” Ugh. Even uttering his name had made me want to spit and brush my tongue with a scrubber. Bringing my legs up, I’d buried my face in my knees, unable to bear the sight of Jimin’s brows furrowing with concern. Aside from the guilt I’d felt about lying to my best friend, the mix of emotions roiling inside me were – and still is – muddling. There was overwhelming outrage towards Se Hoon, which was not surprising. However, endless hours of pondering had made me realise that the nature of my grief was befuddling.

There had been no tears. Even after the shock of seeing Se Hoon in bed with another woman had worn off as I’d trudged all the way home, walking for about an hour instead of taking the subway, there had been no heartbreak over our failed relationship. When I’d finally reached home and collapsed on my bed, no burning tears had even threatened my eyes. Later in the shower, the only wetness had come from the metal pipes. I didn’t care about losing him. No, I’d thought, with Jimin’s presence solidifying my belief, I’m sad because I’m alone. Even when I was with Jimin – actually, because I was with Jimin – I’d felt so lonely. He made me feel hopeless. He made me feel like a loser. Especially now, I’d felt like I was worth nothing. No, I’d always felt like I was worthless when I was with Se Hoon, or with any of my other exes. That’s why I’ve always chased after a relationship. Because otherwise, I would be worth less than nothing.

It had made me all the more desperate not to let Jimin find out. Better to have him think that Se Hoon was being a jerk – which he was, and still is – by ditching me for work instead of finding out that we’d broken up. Jimin was sure to take great umbrage at Se Hoon – never mind that I  was the one who did the dumping – and would definitely demand to know the reason behind it. To tell him that I wasn’t even worth being faithful for… that would just take the ugly, miserable cake that is my life, wouldn’t it? I’d much rather die than come clean, so I’d pressed the truth as deep down as it could go, took a deep breath and turned to rest my chin on my knee, facing that frown painted on his adorably worried features.

“It’s work. You know how it is. Can’t be helped.” Tossed words accompanied by a cavalier shrug; hopefully passing it off as a small matter that I’d wanted it to appear like. There. It gave the impression that I had a responsible boyfriend, and I was being a magnanimous, understanding girlfriend. Plus, this way I could forge ahead with unloading my immediate problem to Jimin without seeming too pathetic. “But I don’t know if I want to go alone.”

“Hey, what’s the point of riding business if you’re going to zone out and queue with the people in economy?” Jimin’s irritated complaint as he swats my arm knocks me back to the present. Still in a daze, I let him grab my hand and pull me up and towards the air stewardess waiting to check the customers’ boarding passes without complaint, only having the presence of mind to hold my camera bag securely against my side. True, I was really torn between going on the trip alone or cancelling it altogether, but when I’d voiced my indecision to Jimin yesterday, I didn’t imagine that it would lead to this.

We zip past the long queue of people waiting to be allowed to board, all the way to the front. The sweet-looking stewardess takes a look at our documents and smiles, complimenting her rosy cheeks, made up carefully to look perfectly natural, ushering us in. As we stride towards the door to the aircraft, I can’t help but look at our connecting hands, then up towards his slender, but comforting back. Never in a million years would I have thought that he would actually offer to accompany me. In all actuality, ‘offer’ is too mild a word for what he did. After calling in to take a week off of work, then buying flight tickets while I’d showered, did he really think he left me with any choice?

He might have been right that not going just because Se Hoon couldn’t make it, after I’d worked my ass off to get a holiday, paid for the tickets and hotel, would be ridiculous. But I maintain that what he did in a span of less than thirty minutes – because it couldn’t have taken longer than that for me to shower – was the more inane of the two.

However, as we step inside the plane itself, past another stewardess welcoming us onto the flight, the reality of this finally starts to sink in. For the first time since I’ve become single, my face relaxes, and I can feel my whole body relaxing with it. While the cause of this current situation is unfortunate, the outcome is quite fortuitous. After settling in my window seat first, I glance towards Jimin, trying to get comfortable in the next seat over. I’m very aware that allowing myself to enjoy this, or even think about this, is idiocy of the highest degree. That it will just bring me more pain down the road. I know. Years of suffering had taught me that really well. Yet still, being the fool that I am, I don’t deny the giddiness of having Jimin come with me, instead of Se Hoon. Not to myself, at least. If it’s going to hurt me either way, might as well milk whatever joy I can get out of it, right? My future self will probably hate my current self later, so I apologise to her in advance in my head.

“Everything okay over there?” Jimin leans over the wide armrest to ask.

“Mm-hmm,” I answer simply, still half-lost in my thoughts. Sometimes I want to roll my eyes and laugh at myself. Whatever am I thinking, while Jimin is just trying to be a good friend? Imagination running wild can inject a really swift and powerful dose of euphoria, and goodness knows that my spirits need a bit of lifting, but prolonged daydreaming will not do anyone any good. Jimin is just a friend. Just a friend. Indulging in idyllic notions will just burn me in the end.

The process of achieving resolution is interrupted when the plane begins to move. It isn’t very obvious at first due to its size, but I notice it backing out into the runway. As it begins to pick up speed, I forget everything else; from depressing thoughts of being single, to silly fantasies. Turning to Jimin, I whisper excitedly; “My favourite part is coming!”

Before I can start to explain what it is, Jimin laughs and nods. “I know.”

Sitting back against the chair, I absorb the fact that Jimin remembers that I’ve told him before. It’s such a random piece of uninteresting information, but I suppose that’s what best friends pick up over the years. I’m sure I subconsciously collect seemingly useless information about him, too. Not wanting to miss it, I don’t comment any further, instead just grinning at him before shifting my attention towards the window. My heart rate picks up as the vehicle accelerates so rapidly that I feel myself getting thrown back into my seat, gaining momentum until it finally lifts itself up into the air. Sighing contentedly, I told Jimin; “It’s such a rush when the plane moves like that. Like our journey is truly starting, and we’re running towards it with all our might.” He just shakes his head with a chuckle at my childish delight. We’re already high enough that the view outside displays the landscape of Seoul city of buildings and cars. On any other day, I’d be down there somewhere. But not today. And while this may not have turned out exactly as I’d expected it to, I have no complaints about the arrangement now.

As though he’d picked up on my uplifted mood, Jimin asks jovially, “So, remind me, why did you choose to go to Malaysia?”

I remember telling him that I was the one who’d picked the holiday destination. This time, it’s not surprising that he remembers; the way my excited gushing about the trip had escalated as it had approached bordered on annoying, even I will admit that. “It’s a multicultural, multi-racial country, so there’s a diverse variety of things to explore,” I begin to explain, sounding like a tourist brochure, pause to consider, then confess. “Actually, we’re going to Penang, which is famous for having the best food.”

Even though his lips curl down, the way Jimin bites his plump lower lip and holds his shuddering body is a tell-tale sign that he’s not frowning; in fact, I know that he’s trying to hold back from laughing out loud. “Why am I not surprised?” Guffaws escape alongside his words, and I smack his shaking arms playfully.

“Shut up.” Although my pretense at affront is a tiny bit better than his attempt to keep a straight face, it’s impossible to hide the mirth dancing in my eyes. With impeccable timing, one of the stewardesses appears by our side to inquire about our choice of lunch. Ever a fan of chicken, I order without hesitation, whereas Jimin chooses pork as his protein.

“Mmm,” – is Jimin’s way of articulating the tastiness of his meal. “What’s the name of the place,” he picks up his boarding pass to sneak a peek at the name of our holiday destination before returning it into his seat pocket, “Penang food better top this.”

Of course, I have never been there, so I can’t guarantee anything. “If their food is that well known around the region, I should think that it’s better than airplane food.”

Both of us know that I’ve made a sound justification, and Jimin doesn’t have any comebacks. The journey grows quiet soon after, my full stomach encouraging my already heavy eyes to shutter closed. Our transfer in Bangkok, Thailand via Suvarnabumi Airport is a short, uneventful one, and from there, it’s a quick flight to our final destination. Watching the evening sky serving as the backdrop for the sun making a dramatic exit for the night is breathtaking. By the time we land, streaks of orange are all that remain of the sun’s waning presence, and a light smattering of stars twinkle, not to be outdone by the numerous city lights.

“So, are we going to take a taxi to the hotel?” Jimin wants to know our next move after retrieving our bags from the baggage claim carousel.

“Yep, but we won’t be using a taxi.” Armed with the WiFi device I’ve rented in advance, I breathe a sigh of relief as my phone connects to the internet successfully. Sometimes I feel a little ashamed by it, but I can’t stop the feeling of unease whenever I’m cut off and unreachable by phone. I keep imagining the worst things happening. “There’s an app people use here to call for a driver instead of using a taxi. It’s cheaper and easy to use.”

“Oooh.” As I open said app, Jimin looks at the screen of my phone over my shoulder curiously. Compared to Incheon and Suvarnabumi Airports, Penang Airport is very small, which I suppose is befitting of the size of the northern island. It makes the place seem especially busy, and we stand slightly away from one of the exits, doing our best to keep out of people’s way. There must be a lot of drivers on the app service, because one immediately takes our request. Ride secured, we make our way out of the building, looking out for a white car with the specified plate number.

Soon our luggage is secured in the trunk of the car, and we speed away from the airport. From the handy app, I find out that our tanned driver is a man named Hisyam. His fatherly manner and gentle way of speaking reinforces my instinct that he seems to be in his late forties or early fifties, a deduction I’d made upon seeing him. Our friendly responses when he’d initiated the standard questioning – where we’re from, and our purpose of coming here – encourage him to strike up further conversation. From my simple research about Malaysia before coming here, I know that being able to converse in English is enough to communicate with the locals, but I didn’t think that it would go so smoothly. I’d thought that it would be only mostly youngsters who are able to speak fluently in English, but despite his age, Hisyam sounds comfortable talking to us in the language. A comment on this from me has him explaining that many Malaysians can speak English well enough to be understood at the very least, which is a relief. It’s nice to feel so welcomed, especially since he has an eager and easy answer when I wonder where we should get our dinner aloud. “There’s a place that’s famous for its char kuey teow that’s not far from here. You have to try it!”

“Char kuey teow?” Jimin hasn’t eaten anything after our lunch on the flight earlier, and the mention of food, however foreign, quickly piques his interest.

“It’s stir-fried noodle,” he explains. “But the noodles are flat and made of rice. It’s a really popular dish around this region. I’ll drive you there first, if you want.”

Sneaking a glance at Jimin, I can see that he is also in favour of this. “Is that okay, though? Do we need to call another driver after we’re done?”

“I’ll just take some other requests until you’re done, then I’ll come back for you. There’s always people calling for service in this area,” he assures us. “This shop’s reputation is rightly deserved, I promise. So, don’t worry about me and enjoy yourselves!”

Good thing Jimin and I are able to decide on taking Hisyam up on his offer so quickly, because he really isn’t kidding – the restaurant is a mere few turns after that. It’s a place next to the large road, with most of the dining tables spread over an open space past the low fence enclosing the area of the restaurant. I suppose the cooking is done within the small building to the side of the restaurant. The tables and chairs are purposeful rather than decorative, but I know that sometimes a simple, humble place can serve better food than fancy ones. With Hisyam’s phone number saved inside my phone, Jimin and I take a seat at a table in the middle of the place. It has barely gotten dark, but more than half of the tables are already occupied by people who look to be locals. A good sign.

Thankfully the restaurant is well-staffed, and in less than five minutes, we’ve gotten our order in. “Smells good,” Jimin comments hungrily, eyeing the plates on the tables around us. I grin and stop myself from teasing him with the old ‘I told you so’ before I actually try the food. It arrives quickly, although I’m not sure if it’s soon enough for Jimin, who starts to dig in without even waiting for me. “Mmm!” His smiley eyes widen, with an extra twinkle as he swallows the char kuey teow.

If my reaction upon tasting it didn’t mirror his so much, I would have laughed at him. However, our driver’s recommendation has given us a great start to our trip – the char kuey teow tastes much better than I expected. Strips of rice noodles that look like a very thick piece of paper that had gone through a coarse shredder are coated with sauce. This dark sauce isn’t paste-like, yet not runny, either. It’s rich; probably infused with the flavours of the prawns and cockles that accompany the dish. The noodles slide down my throat easily, but chives and bean sprouts mixed in provides a contrasting, crunchy texture.

Our silence during the meal says everything about it. Neither of us are interested in talking; we’re too busy enjoying the food. Only after I finish the last bite do I come up for air to confirm what I already know. “How was it?” But Jimin can’t hear me with his body twisted away in his plastic chair. Even if he could, he’s too concentrated in his effort to attract the attention of one of the waitresses to pay me any heed.

Once the young girl has acknowledged Jimin’s call, he turns back to me. “I’m ordering another one. Do you want anything?”

Looks like Jimin had definitely enjoyed his meal. I did too, but my appetite is nowhere as big as his, so I add another order of milk tea to drink while I wait for him to finish his second plate. Less than half an hour later, we’re back with Hisyam, who is happy that his suggestion is getting rave reviews. “Your hotel is in the center of Georgetown, so it will take about thirty minutes to get there,” he informs us, explaining that Georgetown is in the northern part of the island, while the airport is somewhere down south. The three-story building that he points out sits at the end of the block, and he turns from the main road into a smaller one to let us off. He looks at the hotel in approval. “You chose a good place to stay,” he comments. “The last tourist couple I drove booked a famous hotel, but they didn’t know that it’s known for being haunted.” The corners of his lips twitch while his eyebrows scrunch in the middle, as if he still isn’t sure whether to laugh or sympathise with the poor people’s misfortune. “It broke my heart to tell them.”

“Oooooh, which hotel is it?” Pretty sure that I didn’t come across this morsel of information when I was searching for hotels to stay in, I wanted to know. However, Jimin protests, saying that he’d like to get some sleep tonight. He’s already going to sleep in an unfamiliar bed, and hearing a ghost story just before that is not going to help him sleep easier. Hisyam and I whisper conspiratorially, arranging for a private story time via message while Jimin unloads our bags from the trunk of the car.

Unfortunately for Jimin, this isn’t going to be our first disagreement for tonight. Not ten minutes later we’re standing at the front desk, arguing over sleeping arrangements while the staff looks on patiently. “I should get my own room,” Jimin insists again, his tone riding the line between firm and incredulous at my disagreement.

“Why should we?” This is not the first time I’ve said these words in the last few minutes either, but I’m unwilling to back down. “The room is huge, and,” grabbing his arm to turn him away from the listening employee, “it’s really expensive.”

“I just won’t take a suite, then,” Jimin says with finality, accompanied by an eye roll.

Truly upset now, I let my lower lip jut out in an infuriated pout. “Even a normal room is expensive, and our rooms won’t be close to each other’s, then,” I inform him. “Is sharing a room with me really that bad? I thought it would be fun. Plus, I already feel bad enough for making you come here with me without having you spend even more.” Even though I know that Jimin can easily afford whichever room he wants, even the suite that Se Hoon and I had decided to splurge on to enjoy together, I’m not exactly sure why I want Jimin to share a room with me so much. The reasoning that I’ve given him are all true. Having him spend so much money, on top of messing up his work schedule to go on an impromptu trip with me makes me feel really guilty, even if he’d done it on his own accord. I just hope that’s the main reason I’m so adamant that we share the suite, more so than the fear of having my crippling insecurity issues creeping up on me alone in the room I was supposed to share with Se Hoon.

Since Jimin and I have had sleepovers when we were kids and had even shared a tent when we went camping with friends in high school, I didn’t think he would mind. So when he’d neglected to ask which hotel we would be staying in, I didn’t bother to book another room. In hindsight, perhaps it was just an oversight on his part. He did only have less than twenty-four hours to prepare to go overseas, after all. However, if he’s this against sharing a room with me, perhaps he does feel uncomfortable about it. Sighing, I decide internally that forcing him to share when he isn’t willing would eat at my conscience even more, so I face the staff again as my hand reaches inside my bag, rummaging for my purse. “Could you give us another room? As close to mine as possible, please.”

“Fine, fine, let’s share.” This isn’t the effect that I had intended – I’m fully prepared to pay for his room – but surprisingly, this made him finally give in. “That is, if you don’t mind.”

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I minded.” Now that Jimin has agreed, I find myself at odds, feeling like I’d coerced him into saying yes. “Are you sure you don’t mind? I could just get another room if you really don’t want to share.”

He shakes his head but doesn’t meet my eyes. “Nah, I just thought you’d feel awkward since you’re supposed to be here with Se Hoon. Are you sure he won’t mind?”

Oh. So that’s why Jimin had put up such a fight. The realisation makes me feel a little disappointed. I guess I’m a fool for expecting something else. Jimin had never been attracted to me, after all. Why would he care about sharing a room, other than concern over causing trouble in my relationship? If only he knew that he’s worrying about a nonexistent problem. “I’m sure. No worries.” Funnily enough, Se Hoon had been the one sharing his bed with another woman while we were still a couple, not me.

“I guess he thinks I’m a robot, too.”

“What?” I’m in the middle of confirming with the now-thoroughly-confused man at the front desk that we’re definitely not adding any extra rooms to our booking, so I’m not sure if I heard Jimin’s mumblings right.

“Nothing.” He dismisses me, taking our luggage and wheeling them towards the lift, leaving me behind to take the room key.

“Hey, wait! Oi!”

“Here are your room keys,” the young man at the front desk calls for my attention, and I turn around to take the two sets of cards from him. His, “I hope you enjoy your trip,” sounds more heartfelt rather than obligatory, sending embarrassed heat to my face. He’d obviously gathered that things are not hunky-dory between his guests… wait, he probably thinks we’re a bickering couple. At first I open my mouth, automatically about to launch into my go-to explanation that we’re friends, not a couple like I usually do back home, then I close it. There’s no longer a boyfriend who might find out that someone thinks that Jimin and I are in a relationship, and Jimin, that jerk, went ahead without me so he didn’t hear it. What’s the point of clarifying such a trivial thing to a stranger in a foreign land that I probably won’t ever see again anyway?

“Thanks.” Still slightly sheepish over our argument in front of the man, I quickly scatter away towards the lift. “Thanks for waiting,” I repeat the sentiment – but this time in a very different intonation that borders on the churlish – towards Jimin when I reach his side.

“Mm.” His non-committal reply doesn’t indicate whether he missed the sarcasm in my greeting or heard but doesn’t care to respond. It does nothing to improve my mood. I narrow my eyes at him, but he carefully avoids my glare, instead pressing the button to summon the lift, then keeping his gaze locked on the red digits changing from 2 to G. His reaction jolts me away from the displeasure I’d felt when he’d left the counter without me, back to the root of our argument. Uncertainty and guilt replace my ebbing anger.

“Sorry that you had to come all the way here to keep me company,” I begin my apology by addressing the sacrifice he’d made for me. “If it really bothers you, I don’t mind taking two rooms. I’ll pay for it. It’s the least I can do, after all.”

The lift doors open just then, and Jimin goes in without acknowledging my words, dragging both our luggage with him. I follow in and press the first-floor button. If he doesn’t want to talk about it, I’m not about to push it any further. I’ve said my piece. Of course, I’m still upset, but Jimin can be scary when he’s truly angry, and I’m not in the mood to deal with that right now. Not that I ever actually want to take on an incensed Jimin. But then, the lift has barely moved when he shifts to face me, his features not quite frowning, but nowhere near friendly, either. “Do you really not care about sharing a room with me? Se Hoon as well?”

“Yes, really.” Well, I really prefer it that way. Se Hoon doesn’t have a say in it, but there’s no reason to tell Jimin that. “No sense wasting money on another room when we’ll only use it to sleep, anyway.”

“You booked an expensive suite in a nice hotel just to sleep?” If I were still with Se Hoon, Jimin’s pointed question would have made me blush. However, all it made me think about is how Se Hoon fucked another woman two days before our vacation. There’s no doubt that there were other incidents before that that I’m not privy to. My blood boils at the thought.

“Well, right now I’d rather get herpes than touch him.” I reply acidly. Jimin might have done a lot for me, especially since I broke up with Se Hoon, but there’s just so much my self-beating, bruised heart can take. This time Jimin is the one doing the following, walking just behind me down the corridor until we reach the door to the suite. Holding the key cards up, I ask him one last time, “Are you sure about this? There’s still a chance to get another room.”

“No need, since you’re so sure,” his reply is slightly curt, but has lost most of the venom. I belatedly realise that he thinks I’m furious with Se Hoon for bailing out because of work, which must have had him softening towards me again. In reality, I’m far more pitiful than that, but I’ll take what I can get. Under his breath, Jimin mumbles again, “I’ll be sure to conduct myself like the saint you both think I am.”

The light musical notes of the door unlocking mask Jimin’s murmuring, so I only register his earlier response, taking it as a reconciliation. Opening the heavy wooden door, I fumble the adjacent wall for a switch, and upon turning it on, white light bathes the space to reward us with a very welcome sight. The entrance stretches and opens up to a spacious living room, decorated with black wooden furniture enhanced by splashes of red – small red cushions and red drawers. Simple white walls provide a nice contrast to the beautiful dark, polished timber floor. While I was looking for a place to stay while we’re here, I had seen some photos of the room, but seeing it in front of my own eyes is just breathtaking. From behind me, the sound of Jimin’s long inhale is audible as he takes it all in with completely fresh eyes.

Excited, I bounce further in towards the bedroom. On my left is a wooden door matching the ones I’ve walked through so far. The walls sandwiching it are also wooden with carvings, but the whole expanse is covered with glass. A peek through it reveals the bathroom, complete with a jacuzzi tub that had been promised in the hotel website in addition to a shower cubicle. The bedroom itself is as beautifully decorated as the living room. Majestic four-poster king-sized bed dominates the center of the room, matching the ornate tables and wardrobe well. Sliding glass doors lead to the balcony, and a large stained-glass window on the other side of the bathroom facing the bed completes the luxurious room.

“I’d be happy to just hang out here until the end of the trip,” Jimin comments in awe as he enters the room.

“I know,” I agree breathily, then compose myself before sending him a firm look. “But there’s food to be eaten.”

My honest statement invokes a helpless laughter from Jimin. “You’re not even pretending that you want to see the sights!” Just like that, all the animosity from before melts away completely. Jimin’s giggles must be infused with magic, drawing out a grin from me effortlessly every single time.

Finally, we collapse on the bed – Jimin resting completely on the left side of the bed, while I lay down partially on the side closest to the balcony with my lower legs dangling over the foot of the bed. If I let myself lay down properly, I know that it’s just a matter of time before I’m knocked out cold from the exhaustion of the journey. A bath in the tub sounds really nice, but it’s too much of a hassle for me now. I just want to sleep; but not with the day’s journey sticking to my body. After some time resting my tired muscles, I let out a loud groan and pull myself up. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

“Mm.” From the way Jimin lazily acknowledges my announcement, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already sleep-talking.

“Do you want to take one too, or are you just going to stink up the bed the whole night?” Poking the sole of his right foot sharply with my finger, I try to verify this with him before I lose him to sleep completely.

“Mmph.” This time he rubs his face against his pillow, perhaps in an attempt to give a more intelligible answer that fails. Opening up his eyes a crack, he asks, “Together?”

I’m not sure if he’s really lucid or not. But I refuse to let him – and myself – entertain the idea for even one minute. My honest answer isn’t good for the health of both my mental state and our friendship. “I’ll wake you up once I’m done.” Jimin responds with another vague hum that I take as a ‘yes’.

Just a little over twelve hours later, I’m sorely wishing for a nice soak in the jacuzzi tub, followed by a nice afternoon just chilling in the hotel room being blasted by the air conditioner. Jimin echoes my innermost thoughts, as if he can read them; “I swear I must have sweat out all the water in my body,” he complains. “Why did you choose such a hot place to go for a holiday? Don’t people run to cool places in the summer?”

“I think it’s the opposite,” I muse out loud. “People go to hot places to escape the bitter winter.” Right now, the freezing winter sounds good to me. It’s slightly past noon and the sun, which has been slowly creeping up on us since about an hour ago, has become downright menacing. Mentally I congratulate myself on forcing an early start this morning, despite both of us being too lazy to get up several hours earlier. The sky had just been kissed by the sun when we set out from the hotel, using the app to get another driver to bring us to Beach Street.

Despite the name, the street is a few blocks away from the jetty. We started our Penang street art hunt here. The UNESCO World Heritage Site is home to numerous street arts, painted by international and local artists. From what I’ve read, there are some very popular pieces that still survive thanks to restoration, but the art scene changes frequently as the old murals fade with time and new ones take the spotlight. Thankfully, the ones I’ve really taken a liking to haven’t disappeared. An early start gives us some advantages – not having to compete with other people for photos, and most importantly, cool weather for a pleasant walk.

Trusty digital SLR in hand, Jimin and I enjoyed searching for the murals, snapping pictures with them as trophies. To my delight – and Jimin’s amusement – many of these artworks on the wall are interactive. The bicycle that a pair of painted siblings ride on is an actual bicycle that you can sit on, similar to the swings a bit of distance away. Jimin declared that the painting of a realistic little boy walking a very-cartoonish dinosaur as his favourite, until he finds out that the artist, Ernest Zacharevic later made a series of paintings he called the ‘101 Lost Kittens’ project. Whilst indulging him in his renewed vigour to find all the lost cats, I noticed that the street art isn’t all that the capital of the island, George Town, has to offer. Narrow streets snake around terraced store fronts and as the morning aged, some of them started to open. Most of them look old, but many retain an interesting charm unique to each one, be it tiles with beautiful patterns covering the doorstep of the store, or windows and doors carved in cultural patterns that hide a rich history that I’m not privy to.

Dotted between these cramped stores are various eateries, cafes, bakeries and bars, many whimsically decorated, just waiting to surprise us as if saying ‘peek-a-boo’! It wasn't long before our stomachs were rumbling, and we chose our breakfast stop. We managed to get roti canai, a flatbread eaten with curry, which was one of my goals for this trip. Jimin tsk-tsked upon hearing that my goals are food instead of attractions, but even he was mesmerised by the sight of the cook twirling the bread dough expertly in the air. “Okay, this is good,” he relents after taking a bite of the savoury bread.

After filling ourselves up, we resume the search for Jimin’s kittens, but I don’t think we managed to get even halfway before we’re reminded that Malaysia is a country that has sunny and rainy days instead of four seasons. And today is definitely sunny. My trusty cap might be protecting my face, but it’s not doing much against the unforgiving heat. “Korea isn’t this hot, even in the summer,” Jimin insists.

“It’s more humid here,” I explain as my eyes rove about the walls, looking for cat paintings. The grey cat surrounded by red fortune cats has been my favourite so far, but Jimin got more excited about the giant depiction of Skippy, the orange cat.

“How come real cats don’t come in this size?” One would think that Jimin’s wish was an adorable one, but I imagined if it came true, and was horrified at the thought.

“They would eat us whole!” Terrified, I eyed the painting up and down, trying to gauge its size. It must be twice as tall as I am. “It would be worse than a tiger!”

Jimin had laughed at my seriousness, but it isn’t long before I’m ready to call it quits, and he’s right behind me. “Summers are probably more bearable in Korea because we’re in the air conditioning most of the time, while we’ve been out in the sun all morning here.” As if granting my wish, I spy blinds hung over a shop with white lettering written across it. A peek underneath tells me that this is probably a café, since I see wooden stools and tables taking up the storefront space. Without hesitation, I grab Jimin’s arm and lead him towards it. I don’t know what sort of store it is, but I know I could use some shade right now.

It turns out that it really is a café, thankfully. Jimin doesn’t need much persuading to agree on grabbing a bite to eat; it’s lunchtime anyway. We snap up some seats inside, where the air conditioning graces us with its mercy. The menu quickly tells us that this place specialises in bagels. Our bagels are perfectly toasty and crunchy after being reheated over a wood fire in an oven, and I take complete delight in the sour kiwi slices coated in honey topping yogurt in an adorable glass jar. Since I don’t eat as much as Jimin, I opt for a lighter salmon and cream cheese bagel. Although I’m doubtful of the bagel’s ability to satisfy Jimin’s appetite, he insists that the bacon and egg served with his bagel is enough to tide him over.

As Jimin inhales his food, then orders more after giving me a sheepish shrug, my attention keeps straying to one corner of the eatery where I watch a group of young girls snapping pictures amidst raucous laughter. Grabbing the opportunity to catch Jimin’s attention when he looks up from his plate, I gesture towards the corner with my chin. “Look, look. We have to take a picture there.”

By the time we’re done, the girls have gone, so I pick up a piece of white chalk on a nearby table to write on the small chalkboard they’d left behind. “Name… Park Jimin.” The texture of the chalk isn’t pleasant to my skin, but I ignore it to fill in Jimin’s height and the date, chuckling when I think about what to write in the last space. “Charge… laughing too much.”

“What?” My best friend states his incredulity as he lets loose the same charming laughter that I’m charging him with. “Laughter brings joy to the world! How could that be a crime?”

“Shh,” I ignore his weak protests, shoving the board into his hands and nudging him against the wall. He guffaws as I lift up my camera and snap pictures of him against a lineup board to take his mugshot. He then declares that he’s good to go for another search for the lost kitties. But it has been a long day, and with our energy already been sapped by yesterday’s journey, the afternoon is spent in more leisurely walks instead, with Jimin quietly indulging my sweet tooth by popping into trendy and yummy cafes instead of religiously keeping an eye out for more murals. I silently appreciate his thoughtfulness but don’t comment on it, knowing that it’ll give him a golden opportunity to tease me for eating so many sweets. Of course, it might just be him wanting to escape the heat without admitting it, even though the sun’s power seems to have diminished as it slips to the west. Yeah, that must be it, I think to myself, refusing to read more into it.

We’ve just exited another café, the bitter taste of coffee tampered by milk and sugar still lingering on our tongues, when Jimin points out something unfamiliar on the road. “Look, what’s that?” It’s a small cart, just big enough so that two people can sit on the seat underneath a grey shade. Behind it is a bicycle with one wheel, attached to the cart to drive the small cart with two more wheels on its side – like a tricycle – forward. I’ve never seen one in Korea, but I do know that this is a mode of transport in several Asian countries.

“It’s a rickshaw,” I tell him, miraculously pulling the name from my memory.

“Huh.” Jimin eyes it with interest. It doesn’t take a genius to see where this is going. “Wanna try riding it?”

At this point, we don’t even know where we are. It has thankfully cooled down now that it’s late afternoon, but my feet are weary from walking so much. Still… My eyes move from the empty cart, where the two of us can sit comfortably and give our feet much needed rest, towards the back, where the driver is sitting. “It would be nice to support his livelihood, but I’d feel bad asking him to bring us around.” I turn to Jimin, unthinkingly placing my heart in my eyes as I entreat him to reconsider.

Taking in the thin, old man resting his forearms on the bicycle handles as he waits for the traffic light to change, Jimin nods his agreement. “You’re right, I can’t in good conscience hire a man at least twice my age to do that.”

So it’s with mixed feelings that I open the map on my phone to determine where we are. When the phone loads, I sigh with relief. We’ve somehow walked all over Georgetown to end up almost next to our next destination, Chowrasta Market, which is in turn a mere 5-minute walk from our hotel. The large three-storey building looks ordinary from afar, but when we get closer, my eyes widen at the selection of goods in the shops on the ground floor. “Oooh.” Lines and lines of pickled fruits and local titbits remind me of some of the stalls in Korean markets. The vibrant colours of the pickled fruits match the packaging of the snacks, making me go crazy trying to decide what to buy.

Sensing that a lot of time is about to be spent choosing snacks, followed by a lot of money traded, leading to him carrying a lot of things, Jimin interjects. “Why don’t we check out the other floors first? That way we don’t have to carry our purchases everywhere.”

“Okay,” I agree readily, but also absent-mindedly, and he has to take me by the hand to lead me further in towards the escalator. The first floor of the market is nowhere near as exciting as the ground floor to me at first glance. There are some clothing stores, which don’t manage to catch mine or Jimin’s interest. However, as we walk towards the back of the building, a familiar musty smell greets my nose, putting me on alert. Even as we walk in its direction, I start to lean forward, trying to get a good look as soon as I can. “Are those… books?”  

They really are. Several tiny stores filled to the brim with second-hand books – so many that we can barely walk between the shelves. Some people may find the air stale and stuffy, but I see it as staunch, ancient guardians protecting hidden treasures. And some of the books are real treasures; with the help of the shopkeepers, we unearth books in every topic under the sun, some of them a little worse for wear, but the newer releases – like the Harry Potter series – look practically brand new. I don’t find any books in Korean, which isn’t surprising, but I do discover a first edition of a title in the Lord of the Rings series. It isn’t in the best condition, sadly, but it makes me wonder what else I could find had I had the time to thoroughly comb the enormous collection of books. We barely made a scratch before Jimin cautions me against bringing home too many things.

Since I know I won’t be able to decide which book to buy, I decide to not get anything. Pangs of regret echo silently within me as we leave, but then I remember that a plethora of food stalls are supposed to line the few streets next to the market. Picking myself up, I grab Jimin’s arms with an excited grin. “Hey, why don’t we walk a bit more to the food stalls?”

“More walking?” Jimin despairs at the thought.

“It’s just a block or two from here.” As we go down the escalator, I pull him towards the exit by his arm, boding no arguments.

“What about the snacks you wanted to buy?” Digging his heels in, Jimin gestures towards the goods in the small shops we’re passing by, desperately attempting to keep further steps at a minimum.

Sadly for him, I already have a plan of action in mind, and there’s nothing he can do to dissuade me. Shaking my head, I explain to him the logical steps that we should take. “We’ll be passing by this place again on our way back to the hotel. We can buy them then.” As an answer to Jimin’s subsequent whine of protest, I tell him, “Shopping on an empty stomach will make you buy more than you should. So we need to get some sustenance before we buy these.”

Jimin may be following my lead out of the market and opposite the direction we came from prior to arriving at the market, but his mouth isn’t about to admit defeat so easily. “How can your stomach still be empty after eating so many sweets??”

It doesn’t alleviate his disbelief when he’s informed that I’m looking for one stall in particular – a famous cendol stall. When his question of “What is that?” is met with my answer of “It’s a local dessert,” he scoffs in incredulity.

However, as soon as we cross to the next block, both Jimin and I are easily distracted by the shops lining the ground floor. At first the t-shirts with Penang’s attractions, including the murals printed on them as well as the colourful clothes draw our attention. As I start to thumb through some trousers with unusual prints hanging on a rack, Jimin ventures inside the shop then quickly calls me over. I suppress a groan. The shops, with their open fronts, are not air-conditioned, and while the temperature has become much more bearable now that the sun is starting to set, I’d rather stay where the wind isn’t just coming from the fans affixed to the walls. But it is worth it. Even though it’s just your typical souvenir – magnets, miniatures of the country’s famous buildings, and other memorabilia – for me it shows what the country’s people are most proud of. An insight to the people’s minds.

There are also bags and purses of different sizes, some bearing similar patterns to the clothes, while some are woven. “Is this what you want, of all things?” Having Jimin’s heavy arm suddenly drop around my shoulder as I examine a beige bag with red square markings makes me grunt and sag a little.

“What’s wrong with wanting this?” To be honest, I don’t actually plan to buy it, but now I’m tempted to, just to be contrary. Jimin really brings out the childish part of me sometimes; a side that I feel is too immature to show others. My head swivels around to stick my tongue out at him for good measure, but then I notice how close his face is to mine. I can just move my head forward a little and kiss him. Alarmed that this thought is the first that comes to mind, I look back down at the bag so quickly I get whiplash.

Jimin doesn’t seem to notice my reaction to his extremely close proximity, because I can feel him shrug nonchalantly at my verbal response. “Mmm, well, if you like it that much, I won’t stop you.” He ruffles my hair affectionately, earning an angrier “Hey!” than I would have normally given him had I not been so flustered, before I saunter back towards the entrance of the shop, right towards the pants that I’d been browsing when he first called me in.

Sensing a possible sale, or, in hindsight, an opportunity to play the responsible cupid, the shopkeeper who has been watching our shenanigans quietly all this while sidles up to me. “That is a good choice, miss. You should ask your boyfriend to buy it for you.” The woman is very young; probably a few years younger than I am, and her speech sounds a little different than Hisyam’s. I sense that she isn’t as fluent as our driver the night before. However, I can understand her perfectly well, and that’s all that matters.

Or perhaps it would have been better if I couldn’t catch her words, because they made me even more agitated. But before I can tell her that Jimin and I are not a couple, she grins brightly and takes my hand in hers, pressing something small into it. “Here, I’ll give you this. Stay safe!”

Curious, I open my hand to see what she has given me accompanied by that suspicious, conspiratorial look. Eyes widening with surprise and hackles raised, I panic; “No no! You–“

“What’s going on?” Jimin walks over, making me shriek in horror and push the condom back into the shopkeeper’s hands then cover them with the bag I’m holding. I’m not sure why I’m so perturbed. It’s not as if I’m the one suggesting that Jimin and I have sex, but damn it, I want to. And I’m deathly afraid that my best friend would somehow figure out my secret, inappropriate desire.

But of course, my startled and over the top reaction only serves to drum up Jimin’s interest. “What are you hiding there?” It isn’t difficult for him to push my hands – and the bag, my only saving grace – away and uncover the little ‘gift’ that the owner thought she’d thoughtfully given to me. What is up with her, anyway?! I thought this is a conservative country! Looking back towards the winking shopkeeper, I decided that she must be a really forward woman, or a foreigner, despite not knowing enough to tell. Either way, the cat’s out of the bag now that Jimin has seen it. Blinking several times blankly at the small packet, Jimin then looks quizzically at me, cocking an eyebrow.

“Oh God.” My mortified groan is muffled by the bag that I’d stuffed my head into, unable to bear the embarrassment.

Needless to say, we don’t buy anything from the shop. The steps we take forward are sluggish and unsteady, just like my emotions. Although Jimin had laughed it off as he’d simply told the shopkeeper that we’re all good the whole time he’d dragged me out of the small shop, his silence now clues me in on the awkwardness that he’s feeling, too. After the row we’d had the night before, I really don’t want this to go on. Must keep my feelings hidden. How hard can it be, right? I’ve done it all these years. No one had ever questioned my friendship with Jimin, so it must have looked easy on the outside. I hope no one would ever find out how torn and beat up I am on the inside.

“Sorry about that,” I broach the incident carefully, wanting to put it behind us instead of making it worse. “She suddenly shoved the… it into my hand.”

“Ah, no worries.” Scratching his head like it doesn’t matter to him, Jimin smiles, but he doesn’t quite look me in the eye. “She must have been desperate to make a sale.”

“That must have been the weirdest tactic I’ve ever seen.” I roll my eyes with a chuckle. Good. This may have started out forced, but it’s sounding more natural to my ears now. Just ignore that the woman had thought that Jimin and I are a couple, and more importantly, how much I want it to be true. We’re really close friends, it’s normal that strangers would think that we’re more than that. Just laugh it off and things will go back to normal. They always do.

Shrugging, Jimin tries to give her some credit. “At least it’s a fresh approach!”

I start to shake my head, but we reach the other end of the building, greeted by the sight of a long line running along the side of the next block, starting at a small, humble stall. “There it is!” I exclaim in excitement, recognising it instantly from the photos I’ve seen online. Jimin’s grunt when I grab his arm to join the line goes ignored, but he doesn’t complain once we’re there, even though I can’t even see the stall from where we’re standing.

Thankfully, the line moves up pretty rapidly. Once we approach the stall, we see why; the green droplet jellies and red beans are already laid out and ready to be scooped into the small bowl with the white coconut milk and brown syrup. The only wait time is caused by the man making shaved ice from the initial blocks with a green machine that takes up almost half their workspace. There isn’t much allowance for chairs and tables by the roadside, so after paying, Jimin and I join the other customers in standing while downing our sweet treat.

“This is sooooo good.” My compliment is backed up by my tilting the remnants of the bowl into my mouth.

“Want to get one more?” Jimin says gamely, and I grin at the offer. Obviously he’d enjoyed it as well, but I shake my head.

“I’d love to, but there are more treats for us to try,” I explain, motioning with my chin away from the direction of the cendol queue. Sure enough, just walking down the road has us stopping every hundred meters or so to check out what this stall or that restaurant had to offer. And not just the local cuisine either! We even come across a Harry Potter café that serves more than just Butterbeer. Penangites sure love their trendy cafes.

It isn’t surprising to hear a local complain over the prices of some of these delectable goodies though. “This much for sotong kangkong?!” A woman about my age gasps after paying the waitress for two plates of some squid dish. I simply listen to her talk to her friends one table away as we skewer our own squid and water spinach, enriched by the dark, savoury sauce that has my taste buds dancing with joy.

Jimin, who is eavesdropping on their conversation too, remarks amusedly, “Looks like we got conned.”

“Not surprising. This place is well known after all. I’m sure they marked up the price since tourists come here a lot,” I muse, unbothered but interested. “It would be nice to have a local show us the good and cheap places. I’m sure there are many that are unknown to us tourists.”

“Hmm,” Jimin hums thoughtfully, but doesn’t say anything else. For a few moments, I watch him in silence, waiting for him to express his train of thought out loud, but he doesn’t continue. By the time we start making our way back to the hotel, we’re so full that the walk is more than welcome. Not as welcome as the stop we make at the Chowrasta Market to buy some snacks – for souvenirs, but I admit to Jimin honestly that I can’t promise that at least half of them might be gone by the time we’re going back to Korea.

The food coma that we fall victim to continues into the late morning the next day, but it’s very well worth it. Both of us sleep so soundly that even the blazing glare of the sun can only make me moan tiredly, trying to shuffle into a better position to continue my slumber. Which is when I come to a realisation that jolts me wide awake.

Jimin’s arms and legs are wrapped around me.

No wonder I feel so snug and warm. It isn’t just all the food breaking down in my stomach. Jimin has hugged me on countless occasions before, but this feels different. More like what a couple would do, while I’ve always thought of our hugs as friendly. Or perhaps I force myself to think that way. I would use all my willpower to make myself pretend that this is the same as well, just for self-preservation. He’s just cuddling me in his sleep after all. It’s not like it’s intentional. Right?

I might have convinced myself, if I didn’t feel a definite, insistent hardness pressing against my butt. Yes, even that is unintentional I’m sure, but my dumb body can’t help reacting to it. Closing my eyes, I stifle another moan – not a sleepy one this time – as I feel how wet I’ve already become in reaction to him.

Against my better judgement, I arch my back, leaning forward and shuffling as subtly as I can into a better position. Tingles that spark like tiny electric shocks when my covered slit comes into contact with Jimin’s clothed morning wood has me stifling a wanton sound of pleasure. I’m not sure if he’s fully hard, but he feels like a good size. Any size would be good, as long as it’s Jimin. My hips rock back and forth, years of depravity leaving me utterly shameless. Unthinking about how wrong it is to take advantage of my unassuming best friend while he’s asleep.

My right hand dives down past the waistband of my shorts and into my panties, seeking the nub that would multiply the pleasure. “Hnn,” I bite my lower lip in an attempt to stop any further sounds from spilling past, while letting my eyelids flutter shut. The better to enjoy this — it is no longer a fantasy I indulge myself in when I’m pleasuring myself. If only I could have more. Deft fingers toy with my clit as I rub my pussy faster against Jimin’s cock. It’s undoubtedly growing bigger. It almost feels like it wants to pierce through the fabric separating us. Even though I’m really just dry humping him, moving by myself, it already feels incredible. What I wouldn’t give to have it inside me, giving my weeping pussy just what it’s craving. If only these fingers were his; flicking the stiffened bud while whispering in my ear, telling me to come for him...

As if answering my obscene prayers, a deep groan from behind startles me into a frozen statue. Belatedly realising the gravity of my actions, I yank my arm up and out of my shorts. Shit, what the hell am I doing??? However, taking a look at my hand; fingers soaked with my arousal, flowing all the way to my wrist, I have to gulp down another wave of desire. No, this is just too risky.

Heart beating deafeningly in my chest, I stay deathly still for a minute or two, hoping that Jimin hasn’t awoken and realised what I was up to. If he has, I don’t even know how to explain myself to him. Hell, I don’t even know how to explain myself to myself. Thankfully, he seems to be in a deep sleep. Even luckier for me, he just loosens his hold on me, turning onto his back with a deep sigh. Like a rabbit sprung free from a trap, I scoot out of the bed as fast as I can without waking him up. Once I climb off the bed, I spin around to look at him, making sure that he really is asleep. His face is positively angelic in his slumber. It would be painful for me to look at it if it wasn’t such a contrast to the tent that his hard-on is making out of the pristine white sheets. Sheets that would no longer remain unsoiled if only he had any interest in having his way with me. They would turn near transparent – if I’m already this wet from brushing against him and touching myself, what state would I be in if Jimin is the one touching me? If he’s the one rubbing against my clit frantically? If there was nothing separating us, if he’s actually inside me, stroking my inner walls with his hard cock? The beddings will be soaked through.

These traitorous thoughts make me whine out loud without thinking. The way I’m looking at him now is no way someone would look at a best friend. No; as much as I’ve convinced myself that I’ve been keeping my emotions in check, I haven’t been looking at Jimin as just a friend for a very long time.

And if he wakes up to find me drooling and mewling for him, there won’t be hiding it any longer. His breathing isn’t the long, calm ones of one in deep slumber. He could wake up anytime. So I hasten to the bathroom, willing my eyes not to stray towards his obvious yet unintentional arousal.

After swiftly divesting myself of my clothes, I hop into the shower, blasting it on full force. Two seconds later, I have to bite the inside of my cheeks to keep myself from screeching and cursing at the temperature of the water. Somehow I’d managed not only to set it on full force, I had turned it on at the hottest temperature as well.

The cold shower I give myself after hurriedly changing the settings doesn’t do much to clear my mind. My body is crying from rebuffed desire. Clearly this sharing-a-room thing isn’t working out in my favour.

As a compromise to my physical needs that allows most of my pride to remain intact, I turn off the shower and get into the bathtub instead. Reaching for the hose, once again I turn it on full force, but this time only after checking the temperature. Uncaring if it’s shameless to do this when my best friend is asleep on the opposite side of the wall, I open my legs and direct the head between them. The intense pressure of the water hitting my pussy awards me with immediate relief from my pent-up frustration, immediately followed by building pleasure that had been denied from me in the bed just now. Keeping the steady jet continuously hitting my sensitive nub with my left hand, I reach down with my right to trace my slit. It’s completely drenched, and I know that it’s not all from the water coming out of the faucet.

My middle and index fingers slip past my entrance easily. Scooting down the tub to get into a better, lower position with only the upper half of my torso resting against the wall of the tub, I begin to move my fingers in and out of my warm depths. Pretending that it’s Jimin’s cock that I’d felt against my pussy, the memory still fresh, I burn the sensation inside my mind to last me for all time. Soon I’m panting and moaning, though still of sound enough mind to be careful not to utter his name out loud, but unable to stop the aroused sighs that fall out of my mouth at the thought of him doing all of this to me, and more.

The fantasy brings me to a climax in record time with a loud cry that I hope is masked by the sound of running water and thick stained glass. Just in case Jimin is awake, I try to clean myself up as fast as I can. If I’m lucky, maybe he’d still be asleep.

When I step out of the bathroom, he’s still on the four-poster, turned onto his side with his back facing me once more. However, I can see movement underneath the sheets that tells me that he is no longer asleep. Is he… masturbating? Even though it’s covered, I can see his right arm moving rapidly, almost desperately. His breathing is unsteady, just like mine was right before in the bathtub.

A part of me that must be sick and perverted wants to watch him. I stand rooted on the spot with my hand on the doorknob, fascinated, longing to see him pleasure himself. Dying to help him do it. Already my center is reacting again. I’m so ready for him. I’ve been ready for him for so long.

But before I can rationalise continuing to watch my best friend masturbate like a total creep, unthinkingly I release my hand from the door of the bathroom, causing it to close shut with a sharp click. Jimin immediately stills, confirming to me that my suspicions were right. The sound also brings me back to my senses. What should I do now?

In the end, I opt for the safe option, the one that I’ve chosen over and over and over again. Striding past the bed, I greet him as normally as I can. “Hey, wake up, we’ve already wasted half a day just snoozing.”

I’m sure that Jimin is going for a sleepy grunt, but it came out sounding more like a horny groan than anything else to my ears. To keep things from becoming awkward, I pretend not to notice it. Instead, I open the wardrobe in the corner of the room, giving him a chance to hightail it to the bathroom with my back turned to him. He grabs the opportunity readily. As he showers, I dress quickly then let myself out onto the balcony, closing the doors behind me. It’s so much easier to tell myself that he hadn’t heard my shameless moans while I was inside the bathroom if I don’t hear him making them either.

Since he doesn’t comment on it, I assume that he either really didn’t hear me in the bathroom, or that he’d rather not say anything in case I saw him and return the favour. I’m more than happy to just pretend nothing had happened. Especially the fact that I used him to get myself off, although I’m pretty sure he’s oblivious to that. Otherwise I doubt he’d let me go on for as long as I did. Masturbating is something normal, he’d probably spare me the embarrassment even if he hadn’t been caught doing it himself. But using your best friend for your own orgasm is something else entirely.

So, with me neglecting to say anything about sorting out his morning wood – which is completely understandable – and him either not knowing that he wasn’t the only one who got off today, or choosing not to mortify me by saying that he does, the afternoon is spent in peace at Batu Feringghi. It doesn’t cost us much to get a driver to bring us to the long stretch of beach less than half an hour from Georgetown. Going there on a weekday means that we’re spared from the throng of people I’m sure would flock the tranquil strip of sand and sea on weekends. The salty wind is refreshing on my skin; perfect after a proper rest the night before.

Even more perfect than the breeze hitting my face and whipping through my hair is having Jimin by my side, leisurely walking in a more or less straight line marked by the water kissing the sand. We’re close enough that the gentle waves wash over our feet every few seconds, but not too deep into the sea that we’re wet past our ankles. I want to go on like this forever, strolling next to Jimin, feeling like a real couple.

It isn’t long before the blissful walk morphs into a food outing though, as it has always been on this trip, when we spot a stall further up the beach and Jimin wiggles his eyebrows as he asks me if I want to check the food out. He knows me well, so I can see how he immediately thought that’s what I wanted. However, this time, I’d really rather just spend some quality time with him. No words or anything else needed. Just basking in his presence, soaking in the happiness I feel simply by having him here with me. Once we get back to Seoul, we’ll get caught up in the flow of our own lives again. With people we know all around us, we will truly go back to being just best friends. He will get a girlfriend, and I’ll probably find another boyfriend to fill in the emptiness that can never be satiated by anyone other than Jimin. Is it wrong of me to want to continue this make-believe game of being his girlfriend a little bit longer, even if it’s only in my head?

Of course, it’s not as if I can tell Jimin any of this out loud. Plastering a smile on my face instead, I jokingly praise him, “Wow, when did you learn to read my mind?” and start off towards the stall ahead of him. His, “Oy, wait for me!” is met with laughter, but it rings hollow in my ears. I bounce and skip along, but it’s hard to do so and maintain a steady foothold on the ground thanks to the soft sand giving way underneath my feet. My body feels unbalanced, struggling to remain upright despite – or perhaps because – of the jolly movements I’m forcing upon myself, parallel to the emotions I’ve been keeping inside me for so long. Always on the verge of crumbling, threatening to fall into the unknown, even as I put up a front of being Jimin’s happy best friend.

Blinking back tears, I clear my throat as I stop in front of the stall to read the menu. “What is this?” Pointing to a foreign word on the small white board propped in front of me, I ask the young guy, barely a man, manning the stall as Jimin steps up next to me, bumping my shoulder on purpose.

“Oh, uhm…” he looks visibly flustered, eyes moving all over the separated goods on his workspace as he tries to find the words in English to answer my question. He must be taking care of this place for someone. He seems new and a little inexperienced with customers. I feel bad for him, but I still want an answer, so I wait patiently, flashing him an encouraging smile.

Jimin is quick to take pity on him. “Well, all that matters is that it tastes good, right?”

Given an out, the young man breathes a sigh of relief, obviously feeling more at ease. “Miss, pasembur is a mixture of all these things,” he makes a sweeping gesture towards the ingredients laid out on the table in front of him, “covered with peanut sauce. Can you handle a bit of spice?”

Placated by his effort to explain, I lean forward to look at the dry stuff he has sorted out in different containers. Some shredded cucumbers and turnips, bean sprouts, fried tofu and a fried pancake-looking thing that looks crispy. “Yeah, I love spicy food!”

The ingredients just need to be put together in a large plate, and soon Jimin and I are sitting at one of the tables propped up around the stall under a leafy tree. Both of us take the chairs on opposite sides, so we can enjoy the view of the sea as we sip our coconut juice straight from the fruit. Halfway through our afternoon snack, Jimin muses, “I wonder how much weight we’ve put on since we’ve been here?”

His question makes the mouthful I have in my mouth hard to swallow. “Ugh, must you think about that? We’re supposed to enjoy our holiday with no worries!” I wag my fork at him grumpily, reaching for a glass of ice I’d asked from the boy to wash down the food with the cool, melted water.

My chiding rolls off of him like water off a duck’s back. “If I’m going to continue going with you for more food after this, I’m gonna have to make some space,” he says playfully, getting up with a gesture towards the small building that houses restrooms a few hundred meters away.

“Ew!” After sending a chuckling Jimin off by flinging what’s left of the ice in my cup at him, I turn back to the remnants of our food. The peanut sauce is only mildly spicy, but still very enjoyable. We’ve found out that the fried pancake-like thing is actually prawn fritters, but I like the turnip the most. Coupled with the heavier peanut sauce, the juice that flows into my mouth when I bite the turnip provides a refreshing, contrasting taste that reinvigorates my senses. As I try to pick out the turnip strips among the few other toppings left over, a man I haven’t seen before pulls the stool next to mine.

Confused, I give the surroundings a quick glance before turning back to him. Only one other table is occupied. The rest are empty. Even while sitting, I can tell he’s taller than many Malaysians I’ve seen so far. He’s fair-skinned, and although he looks Asian, he doesn’t look quite like a Malaysian – I’ve seen many of the main three races of Malaysians; Malays, Chinese and Indians – and I’m no expert, but there’s something about him that tells me that he’s a tourist, too. “Excuse me, why are you sitting here?”

“So I can take a better look at you, cutes,” he responds arrogantly, turning me off in a split second. Trying to find someone to hook up with on his vacation, I suppose.

Frowning, I pointedly continue spearing one of the small nuggets of the pasembur with my fork, uncaring of what I choose to pop into my mouth in a show of blowing him off. “Well, I don’t care to look at you, so please leave.”

As expected, he’s not going to give up so easily. “I came over ‘cause you look really bored, sitting here alone by yourself. The name’s Charlie. Why don’t you come with me? My room is just over at that hotel,” he points towards one of the ritzy resorts by the beach, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction by looking at it. “I’ll show you a fun time.”

“No, tha–“ I start to turn him down again, but he grabs my hand, uninterested in my response.

“Hey! Ah, uhm…” Before I can put up a struggle to get myself free, we’re stopped by the boy taking care of the stall. From the way his words are coming up in short stutters, it’s clear that he’s scared out of his wits. Yet he’s still standing up to the much bigger man for my sake. “The miss has a boyfriend!”

“Eh?” Charlie looks from the boy to me, then scans the open space. “Where is he then?”

“Uh.” Great. What am I supposed to tell him now?

But before I can think of a reply, he shrugs indifferently. “Just ditch him, then.”

Again, I start to pull away from him, but this time it’s Jimin who stops us in our tracks. “What’s going on here?” His tone is light, but I can sense the undercurrent of what I’ve named the Angry Jimin; the quiet man who speaks in a soft voice, hiding a dangerous persona that can cut a person with one cold look. In all the years I’ve known him, I can probably count the number of times I’ve seen Jimin like this with the fingers on one hand, but the departure from the usual Jimin that I know is so drastic, there’s no mistaking it when he’s truly furious like this. Even though I know that I’m not in the wrong, he has me shaking in my flip-flops.

Charlie, on the other hand, does not recognise the cue signalling that he’s in hot water. “Who are you?” Then, making the same assumption as the boy, “what, are you her boyfriend?”

Afraid of what Jimin might say and its consequences – not just about Charlie, but I selfishly can’t bear to hear him say that he’s not my boyfriend, either – I wrestle away from Charlie’s grip, rushing forward towards Jimin to link my arm around his. “Yeah, he’s my boyfriend.”

My unexpected move confuses Jimin, earning a bewildered expression from him, but Charlie doesn’t seem to care either way. “Tch. Look man, don’t be such a spoilsport. I just want to borrow her for a couple of hours. Or do you wanna come join us too? I hate sharing, but I’m sure we can find someone for you, too. If you don’t mind ‘em ugly,” he laughs nastily, reaching out for me again.

However, Jimin snaps out of his bafflement quickly, and snatches Charlie’s wrist in a firm grip before he can get his hand on me. “Do not touch her.” Jimin’s icy voice intimidates Charlie, I can tell, as the latter hesitates for a moment. But he waves away the warning.

“Aw, c’mon. I–aaaaaaargh!” Charlie’s flippant tone hikes up several notches as his knees buckle, attempting to wrench out of Jimin’s grip, which has tightened so much that his hand is starting to bend at an unnatural angle. Once he manages to get out of it, he backs up several large steps, staying clear out of Jimin’s reach. “What the fuck, man! I thought we were cool! If you’re going to be such a stick about it, you could’ve just said something!”

Now that his switch has been turned on, Jimin is in no mood for any tomfoolery. “I told you not to dare lay a hand on her. Now. Fuck Off.” His words still come out composed and almost unaffected, but his normally smiling eyes now have a malicious glint to them, and even Charlie has learnt his lesson.

We leave the place soon after he does, after I thank the boy for standing up for me. Both Jimin and I know where we’re heading to next; I told him our plans before we headed out a few hours earlier, and I think that we’re walking in the right general direction, but neither of us are checking if we’re going the right way. When the heart is lost, does it matter where the body goes? I’m not sure what’s going on with Jimin, though. He isn’t checking if we’re going the right way, and he doesn’t seem to care, either. I’d ask him what’s bothering him if I wasn’t so preoccupied myself. Having him protect me like that made me ecstatic, even though I was also scared back there. But the aftermath is excruciating. Having him act like he’s my boyfriend, as short-lived as it was, only makes it more painful to face reality. He will be that for another lucky girl, one day, forever. But that girl isn’t going to be me.

While I’m musing on the thoughts that I’ve been burying for ages and plan to do so until the end of time, Jimin isn’t planning on taking the same approach. I should never have worried about asking him what’s wrong – he’s going to address it himself without any prodding from me. “You could’ve just told that ass that your boyfriend is back at home.”

Frayed nerves and a permanently broken heart immediately fuel the ire that rises inside me at his comment. Is that really important? “Do you really think he would have left me alone if I’d said that? He was trying to take off with me even with you there,” I bite off bitterly.

Jimin sighs, unable to argue with the validity of my statement. “I guess that’s true. I just wish I didn’t have to pretend to be your boyfriend to chase him away.”

“Why, is the idea of being my boyfriend that horrible to you?” No, wrong thing to say. I shouldn’t lash out like this. I’m only inviting trouble. But I can’t stop. Jimin might have not done anything wrong, but I still can’t help being resentful towards him for this. I can’t stop hating myself for still being hung up over him. He might not have meant anything hurtful by it, right now and back then, but it doesn’t stop it from eating away at me, turning me into an ugly monster inside.

At least he has enough wits to recognise that he’d put his foot in his mouth. “No, I didn’t mean–“

“Just stop.” I don’t want to hear it. I can’t bear it. His meaning is crystal clear. It always has been. Jimin just doesn’t see me as anything more than a friend. However, if I hear the exact words, I don’t think I can handle it. All of me wants to run far from him, but I can’t do that without appearing even more suspicious than I am now. So I settle for increasing my walking speed just short of a run, surprising Jimin as I leave him behind to cross the road. The few seconds it takes for him to wait for the cars to pass and lengthen his strides to return to my side grants me a bit of time to furiously blink my tears away, clearing my throat. I hope he’d missed the way my voice cracked just now.

“Hey, what’s up with you?” Jimin pulls me to the curb, holding me by the shoulder to face him. “You’ve been acting weird. I didn’t mean to offend you, it’s just–“

“It’s nothing. I’m fine,” I throw out fake words meant to reassure him, using my phone as an excuse not to look at him. “Just checking the direction for the night market.” My thumb shakes with the rest of me, making it difficult to type, but I will myself to make it steady. I can’t break down now. Not after all this time, in the middle of the road in a foreign country, no less.

“No, you’re not.” It isn’t the same Jimin that had dealt with Charlie earlier, but I can tell that I’m trying his patience. Still, I can’t tell him. If I do, not just this trip; everything will fall apart. And I need Jimin more than I need air. If I can only have him as a friend, then I’ll take it with the heartbreak that comes with it.

“Just let it go. Please, Jimin,” I plead with him, finally tilting my face up towards his concerned one. The annoyance on his face crumbles when he sees the raw agony I know I can no longer hide. My watery eyes that betray a world of pain, even if he doesn’t know why. His hold on me loosens, then releases me, his arms falling limply to his sides. The last thing I want is to see him like this. It’s even worse because I’m the cause. But there’s nothing else I can do. “I’m sorry.”

“If you think it’s best for you, I’d do anything,” Jimin says, not asking for an explanation. “Just know that you can come to me about anything. Anything at all. I would always be there for you.”

I nod appreciatively, thinking to myself that he can’t be the medicine to the disease that he himself has created. “Thank you,” I whisper. We stand like that for a while, ignoring other people walking by us, some peering curiously at two foreigners just frozen there. Wiping my tears as discreetly as I can with him watching, I take a few deep breaths, determined to return to my normal self again – as normal as I can be, anyway – and get this day back on track. It has been a roller coaster so far.

The night market spanning along the main road and beyond are made of countless makeshifts stalls that light up the descending night. I can see just about everything I can think of here – from the standard souvenirs, to traditional clothes and bikinis, knockoff bags and watches, to paintings. Normally I would have soaked up the atmosphere, growing so excited that I’d border on crazy just trying to decide what to buy and ending up with more goods than I could carry, but somehow I can’t quite muster up the energy. It isn’t the fault of the vendors, who are friendly and inviting, but not too pushy. Nor is it because I’m turned off by the prices; although I do notice that things here are a little overpriced compared to some other places I’ve been to so far. As desperate as I am to return things to how it was before, I can’t get over Jimin rejecting me as a girlfriend. If he doesn’t even want to pretend to be my boyfriend, I can only imagine how much of a turn off it is to him to have it become a reality. And while I’ve known all along that this is how he feels, I’ve spent so long denying it to myself as I pretend on the outside that I’m all good with it. Without anyone knowing, I’ve allowed myself to fantasise being his girlfriend for too long. It’s just daydreaming, I’d thought. Just a fantasy. I know what’s real, I’d told myself. But I didn’t realise that it had made me hope that it would someday come true, and to be forced to face reality like that – it left me in a state of shock. Things are even worse, because I’m here with nowhere to run from him.

It certainly doesn’t help matters that many of the vendors assume that we’re a couple. While not surprising, it makes the air feel more awkward between us, and drives the knife deeper into my heart. I don’t need to be reminded that Jimin doesn’t see me as girlfriend material, no matter how much it may seem differently to everyone else. Every “No, no, we’re just friends,” I tell every friendly seller is a cruel admittance to the fact that I’ve been denying since we were young. Like a punishment for thinking that I can one day have more than I deserve. I couldn’t have been more wrong. And this whole day is just full of occurrences driving the point home, over and over and over. I want to cry my heart out in anguish. I want to scream my lungs out in frustration. And I want to run, to the ends of the earth, and fall off to a place where I can hurt no longer.

I’m sure Jimin knows that something isn’t right with me, but he doesn’t say or ask anything. While I really appreciate that he’s giving me space and keeping his distance so I can lick my wounds as best as I can in such a crowded place, a foolish part of me still hopes that he cares. His suggestion that we call it a night and get an early start tomorrow after popping for dinner at a food court wedged among the stalls is a very welcome one. At this point I just want to sleep and forget all this ever happened. The latter might be too much to ask for, but I can’t imagine that some rest would make anything worse than it already is.

 “When I said an early morning, I didn’t mean this!”

Jimin’s whining is ignored, although he doesn’t notice me giggle softly at his dismay. I’m glad that a few hours’ sleep is enough to restore the normalcy between us. At least that’s how it looks on the surface. My own feelings for him, now escalated to an irreversible state, have been repressed back inside me, where they have been kept carefully under lock and key for as long as I’ve realised them. And I tell myself that I’m okay with this. I’ve always known that Jimin will forever be my best friend, and only that. It was just my stupidity that kept embers of hope burning within that it might somehow change. As long as I can extinguish my impossible wishes, I can hold onto what I have – Jimin’s friendship. That is more than enough. It has to be. The alternative is to confront him with the truth, and lose him.

So I choose to maintain this delicate equilibrium. What happened yesterday should never come to pass again. I was careless, foolishly allowing my real feelings to surface. That mistake should never be repeated. Hopefully Jimin would think that I’m just still upset about Se Hoon, and leave it at that. Jimin has never been all that keen on talking too much about my boyfriends. The time we spend together has always been for just the two of us. We may chat about our partners once in a while, just to check in on the other person, but we never delved into it. I never cared to talk about my boyfriends when Jimin is the only one I truly wanted, and perhaps Jimin has never had much to share about his relationships, either. It would just be frustrating if I had to listen to him talk about them, so if he doesn’t say anything, I’ve never asked.

Addressing him from the front on the narrow dirt path, I point out, “It’s not that early, you know,” then yelp as I almost stumble over a root jutting out of the ground.

“Look out!” Relying on his animal-like reflexes, Jimin rushes forward and seizes me by the arms before I tumble to the ground. Wrapped in his arms, his sweat and slightly heavier breathing from the exertion of our exercise should be anything but romantic, but as I look up into his soft eyes, filled with concern, I can hear my heartbeat pounding erratically in my ears, and I know it’s not because we’ve been navigating this leafy terrain over the past half hour. Even in this awkward, uncomfortable position, with most of my body weight resting on him and both of us smelling way less fresh than daisies, I can’t help but notice how inviting his lips look from this close proximity. I’d give my whole fortune to be able to kiss them.

No. I’m letting myself fall into the same trap all over again. Before I do anything I will regret later, I clear my throat and extract myself from his embrace. Jimin lets me go readily. “Sorry,” I mumble to hide both my embarrassment and disappointment.

At first, Jimin looks as stunned as I feel, but my movements and apology snaps him out of it. “I told you that hiking is a bad idea,” he takes the opportunity to chide me for my choice, in the aggravating I-told-you-so manner only a childhood friend can manage. It automatically incites an immature response in me, pulling me away from my years-old worries, if only for a moment.

“It so isn’t! Just wait until we get there. Besides, it’s the perfect way to burn off all the food we ate.” Finishing with a loud huff, I turn around and continue on the narrow trail towards Monkey Beach, a stopping point on our way to the Muka Head lighthouse in Penang National Park.

We arrive at the beach just a little under an hour later. It’s already midmorning, and the sun has begun its work warming the sand and the water. I had my fill of the beach yesterday, and there’s still more hiking to do before we reach the lighthouse, but I can’t resist running my hand through the clear water and then splashing an unsuspecting Jimin who’d crouched down next to me. “Hey!” He scolds me indignantly as I erupt into laughter; my first uninhibited one since only yesterday, but it seems like forever since I’d last felt such unadulterated joy. The world just isn’t right when things are not going well with Jimin. It makes me more determined to keep everything just as they are. A life where I’m on the outs with Jimin just isn’t right.

If either of us thought that going to Monkey Beach was tiring enough, we’re in for an unpleasant surprise. While the trail to the beach was slightly challenging, it was mostly flat. From the beach to the lighthouse is a far less forgiving climb – one that would have knocked me out if I were in a worse shape than I’m in. Jimin, the fitter one of the two of us, insists that we would have gotten to our destination in less than forty minutes if I hadn’t stopped to catch my breath, but I pretend not to hear his annoying remark, choosing to roll my eyes and stick my tongue out at him when his back is turned.

Despite the journey that was more tiring than we’d bargained for, it’s well worth it now that we’re here. The lighthouse is an old one; there’s nothing really remarkable about its appearance. Our climb is really rewarded by the view that we see from the top of the lighthouse. Jimin makes his way up first, then calls out to me excitedly, and I give up on regaining my strength at the bottom of the lighthouse to join him. The narrow walkway surrounding the lighthouse peak offers us a fantastic view of the islands surrounding this one, and we stand there for a while, just taking in the endless stretch of the blue sea, trying to figure out where it meets the azure sky in the horizon.

The climb down from the lighthouse is significantly easier compared to going in the opposite direction, and we find ourselves back at the beach in no time. “Do you know that we can see turtles here?”

“Where?” The possibility of this gets Jimin on his toes at once, excitedly looking around the beach for any stray turtles wandering around. I can’t help but giggle at his enthusiastic response.

“I don’t know. I read that you might see them here. Maybe we’d have a higher chance to see them at one of the other beaches in the park. It’s a nesting place for the turtles, and the season is right about now.” My clarification disappoints him, and his shoulders sagging makes me want to pull him into a tight hug. “Do you want to go there and see if we can find any?”

At first he brightens up at the idea, then looks at me sceptically. “How far is it from here?”

“Uh…” As much as I like playing tour guide, I’m not actually sure of the answer to his question. “A little far, maybe? The way there uses an almost completely different trail, I think.”

That draws an easy response from him; “pass”. By the time we’ve walked all the way back to the park entrance, had a tasty lunch and got back to our hotel to shower, it’s already late in the afternoon. “The day just flew by,” Jimin remarks as we sit in the car, on our way to our next stop.

“I know, right? But this isn’t bad.” We’re on the main road, surrounded by buildings on our left and right, but we must be on the edges of the island, because I can see glimpses of the sea and the reddish-purplish dusky sky as the car zips by the gaps between the buildings. “It’s kind of relaxing when we’re not rushing from one place to another.”

“I wouldn’t call a morning hike relaxing though,” Jimin mumbles under his breath, earning a playful smack on the arm from me.

The easy-going mood and light banter continue even after we get to Straits Quay, a beautiful marina enclosed by a shopping mall. Perhaps too easy-going, as we indulge in some drinks after dinner. Having western food is definitely a departure from the norm after several scrumptious Malaysian meals, but I don’t mind the change very much. Especially now that the alcohol has made its way into my system – losing my inhibitions is making me tap into my repressed emotions more deeply than usual, and it’s confusing me. While I’m happy that Jimin is here with me, I’m also tired and angry at him for rousing my irrepressible hopes once more.

Without thinking, I’ve downed more than I can handle. I’ve belatedly realised that Jimin is keeping a modest pace, not imbibing even half as much as I have, but at that point, I’m beyond caring. “You should slow down a bit,” he warns me, and only then I put my mug down with a sigh, heeding his advice. “You okay?”

“Mm-hmm.” Although I’m starting to feel a little woozy, I still have a bit of wits about me yet.

Jimin stares at me, trying to judge if I’m still of sound mind. He must have been aiming for the delicate balance between loosening my tight lips and inability to think coherently, and I’ve fallen neatly into his trap. “Is everything going well with Se Hoon?”

“Why, do you think there’s trouble in paradise?” My answer is sharp and bitter out of sheer anger and defensiveness, instinctively seeking to protect myself even when I’m not in the best state to do so.

“I’m just concerned. I know you’re pissed because he bailed out of this trip at the last minute, but you seem more… prickly than I thought you would be,” Jimin hedges, expertly opening my precious treasure box of jealously guarded secrets. I’ve always worried that Jimin knows that I’m keeping something from him. He could always tell when there’s something I’d rather not tell him, and he usually manages to make me spill everything out. Everything… but my real feelings for him.

“And whose fault do you think it is?” I ask testily, not thinking that there can be more than one answer to this question.

“Se Hoon?” Jimin’s wrong answer makes me want to slap my forehead. At this point I’m not sure who’s the stupid one; him or me. Of course he would think Se Hoon is behind my irritable behaviour, but should I have clued Jimin in on my troubles in the first place?

“Not any longer.” His clueless answer bursts the balloon of fury blowing up within me, and I deflate in my seat. How can I expect him to put all the pieces together when I’m withholding so much of them from him? Jimin can’t possibly know that I’m hopelessly in love with him. Not when I’ve done everything that I can to hide it from him. But I’m tired of concealing things. I’ve gotten sick of it for a long time, and it has risen stealthily to the surface, slipping through my defences, biding its time until an opportunity comes for it to spill forth. Like right now. “We broke up just before we came here.”

“Oh.” His response is quiet, and I can’t tell if he’s indifferent, or sad for me, or feeling awkward from the sudden news bomb. “So it wasn’t some business thing that made him cancel the trip?”

“It was business, alright. A meeting with his colleague on his bed.” Funny, I should feel more upset about it, but I’m not. Whatever Se Hoon has done during the course of our relationship has never affected me much one way or another. Naturally he did please me and annoy me at times, but nothing he ever did got to me the way Jimin does. It’s the same for all my past relationships. I’m aware of that. But what else can I do but accept these pseudo relationships, since I can’t have the one I truly want?

Jimin’s brows shoot up upon hearing this, then crash down in a frown, accompanied by some colourful curses under his breath as he processes the information. “Sorry about that. Never liked the smarmy guy anyway. You can do way better,” he rattles off the typical sympathetic words that don’t do anything to lift up my spirits. “You could have just told me though,” he mumbles, almost as an afterthought, but I can tell that he’s offended that I kept it from him. Far from making me feel guilty though, his expectations that I share anything about my half-hearted relationships only serves to stab another wound in my already well-punctured heart.

“Guess I don’t want to feel like an even bigger loser in front of the guy who rejected me before I could even tell him how I feel.” A large lump lodges itself in my throat, obstructing my air flow, but the words come out anyway.

“What do you mean?” Leave it to Jimin to be stymied even after being told outright. “Who are you talking about?”

I don’t know what else I would have blabbed to him if a wave of dizziness didn’t strike me right then. Finally, something – alcohol in this case – saves me from my stupidity, even though it was precisely the same thing that led to my foolish confession in the first place. “Whoa!” Jimin reaches out to steady me, almost upsetting the glasses on the table in the process. “Okay, I think we’ve had enough.”

I’m not sure when or how Jimin paid for our drinks, but he must have somehow, because we made it out of the shopping mall and down at the seafront without anyone hounding us to pay the bill.

It’s hard to believe that this beautiful place is this quiet when the night is still young, but I suppose we have the weekday to thank for that. The sea breeze does wonders to whip me awake, and although I remain tipsy and a little unsteady on my feet, I manage to convince Jimin that I’m up to the night-time stroll without any danger of falling into the sea unsupported in no time at all.

The yachts lined up along the marina give the place a luxurious feeling, while the lights from the high-end apartments above the shopping mall illuminate the scene behind us against the darkness of the night and the mysterious sea before us. A white lighthouse marking the end of the yachts is clearly much newer than the one we visited earlier today. What it lacks in character and history, it makes up in pristine beauty, befitting the dreamlike scenery we’ve found ourselves in. While I’m not exactly in a romantic mood that this setting is obviously perfect for, I can still appreciate the atmosphere. Well, as much as I can while focusing on putting one foot in front of the other without losing my balance.

We turn right at the lighthouse, following the wide walkway past white houses surrounded by greenery; surely a picture-perfect setting had we seen it during the day. Lamps glow softly above us as we walk unhurriedly to the end of the straight path, both unwilling for the idyllic time to end. The silence between us is a companionable one. Jimin and I have never felt the need to fill them with idle chatter if we have nothing to say to each other. Or even when we do, sometimes, like we do now. I’m slowly becoming aware of the fact that I have said something I never should have, but I’m still buzzed enough to not care about the consequences.

However, Jimin, the more sensible of the two of us at the moment, isn’t content with letting things be. By the time we turn around to head back towards the shopping mall, I start to feel the weight of the empty air, filled with burning questions on the tip of Jimin’s tongue. In my heart of hearts, I don’t want to do it, but I look at him nevertheless; a silent permission for him to go ahead and say what is on his mind.

“When you were talking about the guy whom you couldn’t confess to, whom did you mean?”

Somehow I just knew that he’s going to zero in on that. “Does it really matter?” I sigh.

“Of course it does! I want to know who is stupid enough to reject you before you could tell him anything.” He pauses, trying to make sense of the whole thing. Of course he doesn’t know. He isn’t even aware that I know what he said, so long ago. Heck, he probably doesn’t even remember – people don’t tend to remember things that aren’t important to them, anyway. I want to snort in derision at his comment. He doesn’t even know that he’s talking about himself.

I shake my head; partly in mild disbelief, but mostly in hopelessness. The events of yesterday had solidified reality and brought me back down to earth. “It’s not gonna happen, so I’m trying not to think about it. Even if it’s just pretend, I just want to feel cherished, by the right guy, for once.”

Jimin stares at me intently, both of us standing so still we could be mistaken for statues but for our hair and garments swaying gently in the calm breeze of the night sea. I can tell that he wants to say something, to offer me words of comfort, but the agony that I’ve suffered for years must be showing on my face. A pain so deep that nothing he can say can make me feel better. Yet I wait. Hanging onto foolish hope that the source of my sickness can provide me with the remedy I need. An eternity passes by, and I know that there’s nothing he can do. So I give up, and step forward, alone. Perhaps this time I really can leave him behind.

But of course, my feet somehow get tangled with each other, and I start to trip. “Whoa!” Jimin’s quick reaction saves me in a very similar fashion to what happened less than an hour earlier, pulling me back against gravity. “Oof!” Like a big oaf, I stumble heavily into his arms, almost causing him to topple over. He manages to stay upright though, leaving me in a very awkward position; a heart-thumping position that I’ve always longed to be in, and also one that is counter-productive to my aim of forgetting him. “You okay?”

“Mmhmm.” I’m not. Intoxicated, the closest I’ve been to outing myself in ages, in dangerous proximity to the man whom I can never have. Carefully, trying not to lose my balance again and to avoid making it look like I’m pushing him away, I extract myself from his embrace. Immediately my body cries out for the warmth of his body. It isn’t that cold, but my desire for his nearness transcends physical needs. Best to get out of this situation before I start daydreaming again. “Can we go back? I’m not feeling so good.”

Without protest Jimin agrees, helping me call for a driver this time, and soon we’re back in our hotel room. We take turns showering, the motions almost feeling like a routine at this point, like we’ve been living together for years instead of this being only the fourth night we’ve shared a room consecutively. Ever since the ride back to the hotel, we haven’t said much to each other beyond short, necessary things, like, “I’ll pay for the ride.” Rather than awkward, the silence is heavy. Jimin seems lost in his thoughts while I’m just trying to clear my head for the most part. When we lay down on the bed together, I’m more aware of his nearness than ever before.

Skin prickling and thoughts all jumbled up, I shift to rest on my side, facing away from him. Perhaps I can try to get some sleep like this, I try to convince myself even though I’m hyperaware of his presence behind me. Why is this so damn hard? Tears well up behind my eyelids at the futility of it all. Jimin is just a guy. Okay, he’s an amazing guy, and the greatest friend anyone can ask for, but he is still just a normal human being. With flaws. He irritates me at times. We get into arguments and fights. So why is it that I can’t let him go? Why do I still pine for him? Why can’t I fall in love with someone else? It’s not like all my past boyfriends were assholes like Se Hoon. There have been decent guys. Nice guys. Men who are just as good as Jimin. Maybe even better. Why am I not with them? Why didn’t those relationships work out?

A wet sob makes its way out involuntarily, inducing one more, then another. I hope Jimin is asleep, so he doesn’t hear me. Slowly, I begin to slip out from under the covers, trying to keep the pitiful noises wedging in my throat contained, at least until I can make my way to the balcony where I can cry my eyes out. However, before I can reach the edge of the bed, Jimin grabs hold of me from behind, pulling me back against his chest. “Shh,” he whispers soothingly into my ear, stroking me softly without demanding an explanation.

His gentle encouragement eases me to let myself go, drawing up the white blanket up to my face, cupping it as I cry in earnest, drenching the quality cloth with my tears. Although Jimin doesn’t know that he’s the cause behind my sadness, it doesn’t make his tender brand of solace any less comforting. For me, Jimin has always been able to evoke the most extreme emotions within; the highest bliss, the deepest pain, the best comfort. And even though I can’t let it go – perhaps I never will – the overwhelming agony eventually subsides. Tendrils of exhaustion begin to creep in on the edges of my consciousness, as they always do after a good cry. My eyes will probably be bloodshot and puffy tomorrow.

After finding a dry spot on the blanket to wipe them, I twist around in Jimin’s arms to face him again. None of the lights are on in the room, but the pinpricks of light from the lamps outside shine dimly through the thin inner curtains that have been drawn over the glass doors, softly illuminating the room like faraway stars. I can make out Jimin’s kind expression as he looks at me, plump lips curled into a tiny smile. “Thank you.” My gratitude comes in a soft voice, even though I can’t return his smile.

“Anytime,” he answers lightly. The arm that was wrapped around me lifts so he can caress the side of my face tenderly with his hand. His touch feels like heaven, and my eyelids flutter shut, wanting to savour and burn this kind warmth into my memory so I can relive it a million times in the future.

When I open them again, my sight is clearer than before, with all the moisture previously clouding them washed away like they have been wiped by the windshield of a car. Jimin looks so close. Over the course of our friendship, I thought I’ve seen all of Jimin, but this is different somehow. He has never looked so attainable. I’ve never wanted him as much as I want him now, right at the cusp of cementing the determination of letting him go forever.

Against my better judgement, I shuffle closer to him, but he doesn’t move away even though he’s now just a hair’s breadth away from me. We’re so close, our breaths are mingling together. His palm is still cradling my cheek. Perhaps I’m deluding myself, but he’s looking at me as if… as if he actually loves me. I’m not sure what came over me, but I lean forward, doing what I’ve always wanted to do but never had the courage to in all the years of knowing him;

I kiss Jimin.

Even though I can feel his surprise from the way his body stiffens and his lips part in astonishment, I keep my eyes squeezed tightly shut, afraid of his reaction now that I’ve taken the plunge. I don’t know what’s possessing me to make such a rash move after holding back for so long, and I’m sure I’ll live to regret it. Either from the embarrassment of being rejected, or from losing Jimin’s friendship. Maybe both. But right at this moment, I don’t care. If I’m never going to have him, the least I can ask for is one kiss, and savour it as much as I can before he pushes me away.

However… he doesn’t do anything of the sort. Quite the opposite, actually. Once he’s gotten over my unexpected move, his arms wrap around me once more, but this isn’t the tender hold meant to comfort me. No, Jimin is squeezing me with a strength that I’m not even aware he possesses, his hand cupping the nape of my neck so he can kiss me more passionately. His tongue teases my bottom lip; not making its way into my mouth, but rather content tracing my lips, as if getting to know every corner of it before going further. It’s like he’s turned the tables on me, leaving me in shock. But not for long. It’s impossible not to react when Jimin’s soft lips are melding into mine, his breaths fanning across my face, the sensations too real for it to be a dream.

It gets even more vivid as his body, much like his mouth, brushes intimately against mine, and I feel the unmistakable evidence of his desire against my stomach. My own body jumps to life immediately. I can feel my blood heating up with need, my leg hugging one of his so I can press my aching pussy against it, and I moan into his throat wantonly. The sound rouses Jimin from his trance, and finally he does what I’d expected him to do from the very start. Sitting up, he breaks the kiss, leaving me disappointed, befuddled and breathless. I hadn’t thought about how I would feel about his reaction – or rather, I didn’t expect that he’d only push me away after reciprocating my kiss, and thus have no clue what to think of it – but his fierce scowl has me trembling in fear. What have I done? Why is he like this?

 “Why did you do that?” Jimin’s voice is rumbling and low, a sure-fire mark of seething anger, and this time I’m on the receiving end. I open my mouth to explain, then close it again. No words will come out. How am I supposed to explain myself? Even if I’m honest with him about my feelings, I already know what his answer will be. While I’ve gone and done the stupidest thing possible, I still can’t bear to hear the rejection from him as he looks straight into my eyes. Seeing that no answer is forthcoming, he bites out, “Do not test me like this.”

He extricates himself from me none too gently, almost kicking my leg off of him so he can get out of the bed. Still trying to gather my wits, I sit up, wanting to call out for him, but he looks back at me, his eyes narrowed in fury as if anticipating what I will do and daring me to do it. I draw back like a frightened deer and let him leave the room. The door closes shut softly, but in the silence of the night following what had transpired, it’s as loud and final as a booming thunderclap in the sky. As much as I want to go after him, I know that’s not a good idea. Especially when I don’t know what to say. What did he mean by testing him? Me kissing him might have been a stupid decision, or even a drunken mistake, but it certainly wasn’t a test. I can’t figure him out. Heck, I can’t even figure myself out.

Even though I should be tired, sleep eludes me tonight. I can’t stop thinking about my unrequited love for Jimin, what happened tonight, the incident that occurred so long ago and all the time in between. With my exhausted body and my overloaded brain wrestling for control, I slip in and out of consciousness several times during the course of the night, but when the darkness is lightened by dawn, I’m still no closer to figuring anything out than I was in the beginning.

Jimin hasn’t returned to the bed, either. A blessing, perhaps, because I can’t face him right now. I’m not sure if I can look at him in the eye ever again. After taking a quick shower, I get dressed and make my way out of the bedroom. As expected, I see him passed out on the sofa in the living room. Guilt hikes up my conscience. I should’ve been the one to take the couch, not him. He hasn’t done anything wrong. But instead of waking him up to tell him to sleep on the bed, I tiptoe out of the room, praying that he wouldn’t wake up.

Yes, I’m running away like the coward I am.

At first I wanted to just leave, but I remember that we’re not in Korea, and my disappearing without notice could cause real panic. So I scribbled a simple note saying, ‘Going out for some fresh air. See you later.’ and left it on the small wooden table next to the couch Jimin was sleeping on before slipping out. It doesn’t diminish my guilt for abandoning him on a trip like this, but it does lessen it somewhat.

Not enough for me to enjoy the time by myself, though. Even though the nasi lemak highly recommended by locals and tourists alike hits all the spicy and yummy levels on the scale, the rich coconut rice accompanied by fried anchovies and peanuts, slices of cucumber, boiled egg and fried chicken – talk about decimating two generations in one go – is only enough to fill my stomach, not my happiness meter. I stay long after my food is gone, sipping the milk tea absent-mindedly until late morning, when I figure some of the touristy places must be open by now.

Using the handy app, I get drivers to take me around a temple and a museum, but as interesting and beautiful as they are, I’m unable to get myself to enjoy them. After ending up walking aimlessly and failing to take anything in, I accept the fact that I’m just wasting my time. Resolving to find a way out, I pop into the first café that I see. With a clear aim in mind, I try to focus, forcing myself to push past the dense fog of self-loathing and denial.

Yet still almost an hour later, I can’t think of anything to say to Jimin. Is there any excuse for acting as moody as I have been, lashing out at him, then getting stupidly drunk and making a move on him like that? On top of that, I even walked out while he was sleeping. He has every right to be royally pissed off at me. Knowing Jimin though, he’s too kind to be mad at me for long. He really is more than I deserve. Looks like I’ll have to be angry at myself for the both of us. And I think that I’m doing the job quite well on my own.

In the end when I pull out my phone, instead of a long explanation that Jimin deserves, I type, ‘Jimin, I’m really, really sorry. I wasn’t in my right mind. Please let me know how I can make it up to you.’

Before I can close the chat, a reply from Jimin appears on the screen. ‘When will you be back?’

I hesitate, wondering which answer would be the right one. Does Jimin want me to come back, or is he so angry that he wishes not to see me, at least for a little while? ‘Do you want me to go back now?’

While waiting for Jimin to type out his answer, I fidget in my seat, belatedly weighing my choice of words. Did I sound like an errant child who is being questioned by her parents about her whereabouts? Or did it sound like a desperate admirer finally being given the time of day? The latter is probably closer to the truth, I laugh deprecatingly at myself. Jimin’s reply, however, doesn’t fall within my expectations;

‘The sooner the better.’

Curiosity filling me to the brim, I quickly make my way back to the hotel. Why on Earth would Jimin want me to come back as soon as I could? Does he not want to do anything touristy by himself? Or does he want to scold me? Or… does he want to continue where we stopped last night? I shake my head in disbelief at my foolish dreams. As if he’d want to do that. Pushing me away and sleeping on the couch made his rejection painfully clear.

Heart threatening to burst out of my chest in anticipation and fear, I pause for a minute to take a deep breath before opening the door to the hotel room that Jimin and I share. “Sorry I–“

“There you are.” Jimin greets me with a smile that has my pulse racing. Memories of last night flood my mind just at the sight of him, but somehow Jimin is acting like nothing had happened. I should be relieved, but for some reason I feel dismayed. Did the kiss mean nothing to him after all? After pushing me away and going so far as to sleep on the couch, I thought my coming onto him had an effect – anger, frustration, befuddlement – something. Anything. I’d risked everything for that kiss. And for a second, I was sure that he’d kissed me back. It doesn’t seem like something that can be swept under a rug. I was expecting a severe scolding. A less sane part of my brain feeds to the hope that he would pull me into his arms and kiss me, just as passionately as we did last night. However, he’s just walking around the room, collecting things as he speaks. It feels anticlimactic.

“Have you had lunch?”

I shake my head. I’ve only had a cup of coffee at the café while I agonised over what to say to him. I haven’t given a thought about lunch. Looks like all that effort was just a waste of time.

“Good. Are you ready to go? Let’s grab some food together,” he says, swiping up keys from the small table where I’d left the note for him this morning.

“Uh, okay,” I reply stupidly, not really being given a choice, as Jimin strides past me to get the door. He is acting slightly weird, but at least he doesn’t seem outwardly angry at me. I’m not sure if this is better, but my instincts tell me to go with the flow, so I follow him out of the building without protest.

“Where are we going?” Instead of waiting at the hotel lobby to call a driver, he leads me to the parking lot next to the hotel. My bewilderment deepens when he presses a button on the set of keys and a silver sedan unlocks with a flash of lights and a friendly beep. “How did you–?”

“Rented it,” Jimin answers simply, opening the passenger door and beckoning me in. In my state of confusion, I thought he wanted me to drive, but then I remember that here the driver’s seat is on the right, not the left. “It’s not that hard to find, and I can just leave the key at the hotel lobby for the owner to collect later.”

“Okay…” It doesn’t really answer the question I have in mind, but I’m not even sure what I want to ask, so I suppose this answer is as good as any.

“Buckle up.” Before I can follow up on his instructions though, he reaches over my seat to pull the seat belt and strap me in. When his body brushes against mine, all the air whooshes out of my lungs, like I’ve been hit in the stomach. He may be able to do it but no, I can’t pretend last night didn’t happen. But I want to remain friends with Jimin more than anything else, so I don’t comment on it, even if I can’t act as nonchalantly as he is.

He has no problem driving on the opposite side, easing out of the parking and making his way down the small alley to join the busy main road with no issues. The only thing that might clue anyone in that he’s not actually from around here is his phone on its holder on the dashboard, displaying the directions to our destination on the navigation app. It says that we will take about forty minutes to get there, but not the actual location we’re headed to. “Where are we going?” I repeat my question from earlier. “Is it too far to get a driver to drive us there?”

“Hmm.” Instead of answering me, Jimin glances at the screen of his phone. “It’ll take us a little under an hour to get there, so I guess it is kind of far, or maybe too expensive?”

“Uh.” I’m not sure what to say to that. How am I supposed to know how much it’ll cost us to get there with a driver, or how far is ‘far’? A question better kept to myself, because I’m sure Jimin would find it ridiculous if I voice it out loud. Why ask when I’ve no idea what I want to get out of it?

“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” Jimin continues, seemingly knowing what I want to say when I don’t even know it myself, as usual. “I’d like to spend some quality time alone with you, just the two of us. It’s not the same when there’s a driver here.”

“Oh... okay.” My dead heart sputters weakly to life, but I tell myself not to read too much into it. Isn’t that what always gets me into trouble and hurts me in the first place? “It does feel a little awkward to chat between the two of us when there’s someone else there.” Yeah, that sounds like what a friend with no romantic feelings would say on the matter.

Laughing, Jimin nods, agreeing with my statement. “I totally get you! Even if we’re not speaking in English, I feel really guilty when we don’t include them in the conversation.”

“It’s the worst when the driver is totally quiet and unfriendly!” Relieved, I catch Jimin’s jovial, cheerful energy and run with it, happy that this car ride isn’t going to be as awkward as I was afraid it would be.

“What about those who play awful music?” Jimin challenges.

“No, no, that’s still not as bad as the ones who don’t play anything and won’t say a word!”

In this vein, we continue merrily all the way along the coastline of the island. “Look, Jimin, there’s an island over there!”

“Hmm?” Taking his eyes off the road for a moment, he briefly looks in the direction I’m pointing at. “Oh, that’s pretty close, isn’t it? I wonder what island it is.”

“Yeah, there’s a ferry making its way over there,” I inform him as I figure out the keywords to type into my phone to find out about the island. “Turns out it was a leprosarium, then became a quarantine station, and then a prison, but now it’s a resort.”

“Yikes, that’s weird.” Jimin cocks his head, unsure whether to laugh or disapprove. His sentiment echoes mine.

“I know, right?” Casting a look at the cluster of buildings I can see from inside the car, I try to reason the decision behind building a resort there. “Maybe there’s something that still draws people to it, even with its history.”

“Maybe.” His concentration back on driving, Jimin simply agrees with my assumption. “Maybe we can check it out next time.”

Next time? Just two words can make my mind race with endless possibilities, but I force myself not to think about them. It’s probably Jimin making polite conversation. I watch him steer the car smoothly out of the exit, gliding onto the spacious bridge that spans out almost ninety degrees away from the island. “You’re really good at this.” Grasping for a topic that would take my mind off his vague invitation to come to the island again, I comment on his superb driving skills on the left side of the road.

“Oh, yeah, it’s not my first time.” Even though he tries to play it off coolly, I can make out the smug smile yanking at the corners of his lips. It’s so easy to make Jimin happy — just a praise and he’d be on cloud nine. Like a cute puppy. I try not to laugh at the imagery. “Several of the countries I’ve been to also drive on this side.”

“Oh... really.” Just like that, the wind is blown right out of my sails. Are these the trips that he’d invited me to, but I couldn’t go either because of work or because I thought that going on one with him would be too much for me to take? Whom did he go with? Were other girls there with him? My jeans are too unforgiving for me to grab, so I clench my fists around nothing; the dull pain of my nails digging into my palm feeling like a punishment I very much deserve. I don’t have the right to ask or even think of any of this. The more I ponder on it, the more pain I’ll put myself through; I know this, I’ve told myself countless times, yet I still can’t stop myself from doing it.

Thankfully, just then, Jimin’s stomach roars past my troubled thoughts. “Have you eaten anything?” I ask him guiltily, remembering that I’d left him to his own devices just this morning.

“Yeah, just something light near the hotel.” He grins sheepishly, his right hand leaving the steering wheel to push his hair back to cover his embarrassment. Somehow he melts my soul with his cuteness when he makes such an expression, and when he concentrates on driving again, he makes my heart thump hard from how cool he’s become. Feeling flustered on my own, I whip my head to the left to turn my attention out the window once again. There isn’t anything out of the ordinary to capture my attention this time, so I’m left to the mercy of my self-deprecating line of thinking until Jimin’s poor stomach rumbles again.

“Maybe we should stop to get something to eat.” Really, I don’t need any more reminders of my childish behaviour from last night to this morning. I don’t know if I can feel any worse than this.

Chuckling apologetically, Jimin reassures me, “It’s fine, we’re going to a place where we can eat.”

Slightly irritated that I have to ask this a third time, I grind out, “and where would that be?”

“You’ll see,” Jimin says teasingly, darkening my mood, but I don’t retaliate — I shouldn’t be cross with him.

“Well, I hope it’s not too far from here.” Giving in, I simply cross my arms petulantly. “If I hear your stomach growling one more time, I’m gonna go deaf.”

As Jimin promised, it’s not too far after we’ve gotten off the bridge. “This is still Penang, you know,” he informs me as he veers left to exit the highway. “It’s not just the island; part of Penang is also on the mainland.”

“Really...” It’s interesting that he’s playing the tour guide now. All the top Penang attractions I saw on the Internet are on the island, so I’d missed this fact. I wonder what Jimin has found that makes it worth driving all the way here. It doesn’t look to be a bustling city like Georgetown. While not exactly rural, the town seems more relaxed, with two-storied shops and houses filling the landscape instead of towering buildings. After only a few turns, we enter an even less developed area, this one a village. Brick houses are mixed with ones made out of wood, with trees growing all over the place, lending the scenery on both sides of the road a more natural appearance, different from the carefully structured planning of the city.

Shortly after, Jimin turns right and pulls over by the side of the road. I peer over the dashboard to see what’s in front of us — it’s a dead end. “Are we here?”

“Yup,” Jimin quips happily, getting out of the car, and I follow suit. It really feels like we’re in the middle of nowhere. Especially since we’re at the end of the road, facing a river with a very narrow bridge that’s only wide enough for pedestrians and motorists to cross, giving the impression that there’s no way out.

However, the small shop on my left at the end of the row catches my attention. I can tell that it’s been there for years and years; there’s an air of homeliness, like it has blended completely with the surroundings, and it’s filled with people. Most of them are much older than Jimin and I — probably around our parents’ age, or maybe even older than that. From their relaxed, casual dressing, they seem to be villagers. A few men are chatting excitedly over white cups of coffee, but the other patrons are all eating, despite it being slightly late for lunch. Jimin and I sit at one of the two tables just beyond the threshold of the shop, which is the only one available. I shift in my seat a little, looking around for a menu. They’re usually displayed somewhere on the wall, or given on the tables, but I don’t see any. “Ah, you’re the one who called earlier, yes?” A middle- aged man comes over to our table, all smiles as he greets us.

“Oh, you remember me?” Jimin’s obvious surprise at being remembered has the man chuckling good-naturedly.

“Of course, we very rarely see foreigners all the way out here,” the man, later introducing himself as the owner, explains to us. “It’s not exactly a touristy place. There’s a university campus close by, and I bet not even half of them know about this restaurant!”

Neither of us know how to respond to that, but the owner seems more than happy with the customers he has. And from the lack of empty tables, I’m guessing this place is actually a local favourite — with the villagers, if not the students of the nearby campus. Small and out of the way it may be, but this restaurant has a certain charm to it. The menu turns out to be very simple; freshwater curry prawns, fried fish with three-flavoured sauce and stir-fried cabbage. We forgo the fish in favour of the prawns, which were caught just this morning, and is the signature dish, as well as the cabbage.

Thanks to the simple and limited menu, our food arrives at our table quickly. The owner recommended that we get bread to accompany our prawns instead of rice, and I’m glad we’d followed his advice. The slices of white bread are perfect for soaking up the curry, and the concentrated flavour married to the sweetness of the fresh prawns is nothing short of bliss. In his state of hunger, Jimin had ordered a daunting kilogram of prawns, and although it takes us a while to finish them, it’s not as gargantuan a task as I was afraid of when I first saw the plate. Washing down the food with some homemade sugar cane juice, I smack my lips happily at Jimin. “How did you find this place?”

“It was just a stroke of luck. I was scrolling through the phone while waiting for you to come back when I saw it.” It might have sounded like Jimin was trying to make me feel guilty if he didn’t say it with a nonchalant shrug and follow it with, “I was hoping to help you take your mind off of things.”

“Oh.” I don’t know what to say. It seems like I haven’t made such a blunder last night as I’d thought I did. He was so angry when he’d pushed me away then, even though he’d reciprocated the kiss for a bit. I’m sure I hadn’t imagined that. What was that all about then? Something tells me that it wouldn’t be a wise decision to ask, as much as I’m dying to find out. The last thing I want to do is to sour the mood once again, after Jimin had gone out of his way to make me feel better. It’s more than I deserve, after the way I’ve treated him. So I decide to just play along, ignoring the stronger feelings and questions burning away at me, like I always do. As long as I can keep being by Jimin’s side. The momentary lapse in judgement last night could have destroyed our friendship, but somehow we’re still here, eating and talking and laughing like nothing had happened. The enormous burden that the fear of losing Jimin had pressed on my chest eases off of it, now that I’m assured that things are back to normal. Although the niggling desire for something more remains there. Always there. “Thanks, Jimin.”

Jimin’s smile at my appreciation is more dazzling than the late afternoon sun behind us. The sight of it cements our friendship, now back to equilibrium. Our passionate kiss is to become a hazy, slightly drunk mistake, and will be swept under the rug to be forgotten forever, except in the innermost secret corner of my heart, where I tuck in the sweetest memories of myself with Jimin. Tiny, insignificant instances that are surely nothing to him, but are the most precious jewels of my life, to be taken out and admired whenever I’m at my lowest and loneliest. Or sometimes even when I’m not. 

A belly full is one of the easiest ways to make Jimin happy; next to praising him, and seeing him happy is definitely the simplest way to make me happy in turn. How can I not be, when presented with those bright giggles that eat up his whole body, always leaving his position on any chair in precarious balance, and scrunching up his face so adorably? Before I get lost in my thoughts of him again, I snap myself out of it by asking, “So, where to next, Mr. Tour Guide?”

My impromptu title for him jolts him into an upright position in his red plastic chair, immediately assuming a serious, business-like mien that has me in stitches. “Ahem,” he glares at me warningly, wanting me to play along. “Looks like we have–“ he takes a peek at his watch “–a bit of time left before dusk. But I think we should go soon.” Indeed, we had been sitting there for way past an hour, and the place is completely empty of other customers now. I wonder if the owner is keeping the shop open for our sake. Clearly Jimin is thinking the same thing, because he thanks the owner profusely as he pays for our meal before we leave the premises.

As Jimin skilfully manoeuvres the car out of the dead end, he playfully manoeuvres his way out of answering my increasingly insistent questions regarding our next destination. His refusal to tell me only digs my hole of curiosity deeper and deeper, however, I can’t help but laugh and wish that he doesn’t give in to my badgering. For Jimin to be this happily secretive; it must be a pleasant surprise, right? Despite myself, I’m starting to really look forward to the unknown evening plans.

Instead of going to the mysterious location, though, he drives us around the small town. As expected, there isn’t much for visitors to be interested in. “There is supposed to be a haunted mansion somewhere in here,” Jimin interrupts his tour-guide-like speech by breaking into an evil grin, the picture of the very devil with the dark orange and red hues of the sky colouring the background behind him. “Wanna go and see it?”

I don’t have to look at the rubber plantation on our left to imagine the horrors that await beyond the rows of rubber trees. “NO!” Finding Jimin’s raucous guffawing grating on my indignity, I pout petulantly at him. “Hmph. You laugh at me, but you don’t want to go either, do you?”

That was effective in getting him to stop. “You got me there.”

“Really, what would you have done if I’d said, ‘let’s go’? I bet you’d pee your pants!”

“No I wouldn’t!” It’s Jimin’s turn to be affronted. I have to bite the inside of my cheeks to keep myself from bursting with laughter. “I’d just say we don’t have enough time to visit it, because I’ve already made other arrangements.”

“Oh, have you now?” Every opportunity to tease him is a chance that cannot be wasted. “And is that really true?”

“No,” he admits unabashedly, drawing chuckles from both of us. Just like Jimin knows I’m not the greatest with ghosts, I’m perfectly aware of how easy it is to scare him. “The house has an interesting story to it though. It’s supposed to have ninety-nine doors.”

“Really?” Scaredy cat I may be, but I always love a good story regardless of the genre. Horror stories are always great – as long as I don’t have to watch, or heaven forbid, experience it myself. “I wonder how big it is, to have that many doors. It’s such a specific number though.”

Jimin shrugs, not knowing the answer to that and seemingly not caring enough to find out. “A witch doctor is supposed to be staying there now.”

“Oh?” Since Jimin has turned the car around, I peer at the trees now on my right, trying to catch a glimpse of the mansion in vain. “I wonder what happened to the owners.”

“Murdered, supposedly.”

With a shiver, I tear my gaze away from the shadows of the trees that had been hypnotically pulling me in. “Okay, let’s stop talking about it. It’s giving me the creeps.”

“Aww, sorry if I scared you.” Letting the car move at a snail’s pace along the empty road, Jimin strokes my hair gently. Normally my instinct would be to swipe his hand away, perhaps with a warning to not treat me like a child. However, his touch is oddly soothing, so I simply sit back in my seat, enjoying the comforting touch. It’s not often that Jimin would treat me as preciously as this. Better set aside my ego and make the most of it.

In no time at all, we’ve arrived at a parking lot next to the river. I don’t see the curry prawn restaurant anywhere, and I wonder if we’re currently on the other side. I’m pretty sure we crossed a bridge at some point. Jimin leads me out of the car and up some narrow steps to a small jetty. Sitting down along one of the edges with our legs hanging over the side, we settle down to gaze at the beautiful sunset. “I was going to book a sunset cruise, but I wasn’t sure if we’d get here in time for that.”

“Sorry,” I apologise again in a small voice. Although it isn’t Jimin’s intention to make me feel bad, I can’t get over my guilt. I’m sure if the tables were turned, I’d be completely livid with him. So to have him treat me this kindly makes me feel doubly worse. “I don’t know what came over me.” At least that’s the truth. After managing to reign my feelings for Jimin in for so long, to have it all spill in the span of one night was beyond careless. It’s unbelievable.

Lucky for me, Jimin remains mostly oblivious to the whole thing. “It’s okay. I’d be out of sorts too,  if my girlfriend did to me what Se Hoon did to you.” Jimin tries to lay his hand on my shoulder, but I move away.

“Your girlfriend?”

“Yeah, I mean, hypothetically.”

“Oh.” My idiocy knows no bounds. I settle down again next to him, trying to play it off like I was just surprised that he had a girlfriend that I didn’t know of. It wouldn’t be the first time that he’s had one, but he had always told me about them. It pained me to listen, every single time, but I did anyway, because in a perverse way, I wanted to know about the girls that Jimin is into. Not that any of it matters. Nothing would change the fact that he isn’t interested in me. Even after everything that had transpired last night; after I’d told him that he’d rejected me before I could even tell him how I feel, after that kiss – especially after that kiss – he still doesn’t realise. That’s how little thought he has given to having me as someone more than just a friend. Zero thought. He just thinks that I’m unstable and vulnerable after a bad breakup and is trying to be a good friend. My wandering hand finds a small pebble on the dusty and less than clean jetty, and throws it into the river with all my might. That’s what I need right now. A good friend. Yeah.

All in all, I suppose I have to be grateful. At least things haven’t become awkward between us. I can even almost enjoy the gradual darkening of the sky as the wisps of colour dissipate into the overwhelming dark blues and blacks. Not far behind us, lights from the building next to the jetty battle against the darkness, illuminating the river and trees beyond. “What’s that place?” I wonder aloud.

“A café,” Jimin replies, catching me by surprise. I didn’t expect him to know. Peering at the two-story building curiously, I see waiters seating some customers at a table on the space on the first floor, which is left open to the elements.

“It looks nice.”

“I’m glad you think so.” There is a note of relief in Jimin’s voice. “I booked a table for us, for dinner later.”

“Didn’t we eat just a few hours ago?” Trust Jimin to want to eat again so soon. I can still taste the thick curry on my tongue as I laugh and shake my head at him.

“No, no, you got it all wrong.” He levels his serious gaze at me. “I believe it’s already been a few hours since we last ate.”

Trying not to spray saliva all over him, I curl my lips down in an effort to hold in my mirth. “Is that why we’re here, then?”

“No, actually we – oh! Speak of the devil.” His words are interrupted as our space is invaded by a man who looks like he hasn’t slept in a year. Despite his tired appearance, he’s still all smiles. “Mr. Jimin?” He inquires.

“Yes, that’s me,” Jimin confirms. “I was starting to worry that you’re not coming.”

“Sorry for being late! My wife was supposed to wake me up from my nap, but then between cooking and our son, I was forgotten.” Jimin and I exchange amused glances. Looks like I wasn’t the only one who thought that the man could do with some sleep. “But that’s okay, since it’s just the two of you today, I’d say we’re right on time. Let’s go.”

“Go where?” I whisper to Jimin as the man leads us down the jetty and into a boat, which can easily accommodate at least six people, but will apparently only bring the three of us tonight.

“You’ll see,” Jimin sits next to me and squeezes my hand, determined to not give anything away. If I was told that I’d be getting in a small boat with a stranger in the middle of nowhere, shrouded by the cloak of darkness a few days ago, I’d be alarmed. However, Jimin’s presence changes the experience into an exciting, mysterious adventure.

And we’re off.

The boat glides away from the jetty and the lights of the café, further and further into the ghostly arms of the shadows, barely making any noise. Soon, the river widens, and we can no longer see any signs of civilisation. Only the moon, a whisper away from being full, and the glinting stars offer any glowing relief to the endless blackness, made even darker by the trees lining the riverbank. “These are mangrove trees, called berembang,” our tour guide gestures to the crowding trees clustered together, shielding everything on land from view. I doubt I would be able to see anything but branches and leaves even if we came during the day.

But we’re here at night, and a different sight awaits us.

Our guide steers us close to the riverbank, and stops the boat. “Anytime now,” he informs us cryptically, and I take a look around. What are we supposed to see? With the meagre illumination from the moon and the stars, most of the trees remain in eerie shadows. I silently hope that we’re not on some ghost-hunting expedition. For a split second, I feel panic rising within, but then I remember that there’s no way Jimin would want to go for such an experience either.

Then I see it. A blinking light, so soft and unworldly that I thought I’m seeing things. Before I can pull on Jimin’s shirt to ask him if he saw what I’d seen, I see another small, flickering glow. And another. And another. Suddenly we’re surrounded by them; tiny lights that shine brightly, suddenly from seemingly random locations, making the trees around us glitter like Christmas trees. “Wow!” I whisper in awe.

“Fireflies,” Jimin breathes into my ear, his hushed tone pulling me in against him, unthinkingly wanting to be close to him in such a magical world that we’ve been suspended in. Their light joins the reflection of the stars in the river. Our very own stars on earth. With Jimin’s arm holding me tightly and the ethereal scenery all around us, it’s hard to tell if I’m awake or if I’m  in the most amazing dream I’ve ever had. The same gentle light from the fireflies that juxtaposes with the inky blackness of the night also casts an angelic glow over Jimin’s features, taking my breath away. There’s something in the atmosphere that makes me feel closer to him than usual, and that makes the whole experience even more dreamlike. My hand stretches out to touch the marvels of nature, but even if I can reach them, I can’t bear to actually brush against them for fear of hurting such minute, wondrous creatures, or bring myself back to the real world. So we watch them in silence for a while, until the tour guide breaks the moment by asking if we’re ready to go back.

It feels like time has stopped while we were on our journey, but in reality, only about an hour has passed. Part of me wanted to stay there forever, surrounded by glimmering lights, where real life feels so far away. To be with Jimin, just the two of us. The lights from the café next to the jetty, while not exceptionally bright, are jarring in comparison to the gentle twinkling of the fireflies. I almost refuse to get off the boat. However, all good things must come to an end, and I let Jimin help me out of the boat and lead me to the café.

“Are you hungry?” He asks after we’re seated at one of the tables on the open first floor.

“Mmm, not really,” I muse as I thumb through the menu. Majority of the food here is of the western variety, and although I do enjoy it, I’m still full of the prawn from earlier. Mostly I’m eager to hold on to the memories of the boat ride. Irrationally, I’m afraid that having a meal would distract me and cause the warmth of Jimin’s embrace as well as the magic of the fireflies to slip through my fingers.

“Neither am I,” Jimin sighs with regret, clearly wishing that he could fit some more food into his stomach. With an eye roll, I tell him that I’m not surprised – he ate the lion’s share of the prawns, and there was way more than what two people could normally eat. “Maybe we can share a cake.”

“Ooooh, cake!” His suggestion is met with enthusiasm on my part. Although I’m loathe to share my dessert with anyone, Jimin is – a very, very occasional – exception, and my stomach is panicking at the thought of being stuffed with more food, so I relent. The burnt cheesecake we choose makes me regret having to share a little. It’s downright heavenly; I can probably eat all the slices available if I don’t mind the button of my jeans popping right off. Thankfully, Jimin is fuller than I am, and gives up after about two small bites. “Are you sure you don’t want any more?” This is a treat that warrants opening up that extra stomach I know we all have for dessert, but at the same time, I slyly hope that he doesn’t take me up on my offer.

Shaking his head, he gestures for me to finish it. Quick as lightning, I pull the plate towards my side of the table gleefully. Now that I don’t have to share it with anyone, I can take my time to savour it. In my excitement, I don’t sense Jimin’s intent gaze on me until I’m about halfway through the slice. Realising that I must look like a complete and utter glutton, I pause and smile at him sheepishly, trying to wipe off any crumbs as inconspicuously as I can. Trying to cover my embarrassment, my mind races for something to say. “Thank you for such a great day.” I can’t believe I didn’t think about telling him this until now. He must have put a lot of thought into this, and at the last minute, too.

Those words bring the most tender expression I’ve ever seen grace Jimin’s face. My breath stills for a moment to give my brain a chance to process and commit the sight to memory. “Everyone needs to feel loved once in a while, right?” This is the first time I’ve heard him say such a thing so seriously, without it sounding like an off-handed comment. He always makes these sort of statements like it’s an insignificant matter, sometimes literally waving the words away with his hand in the air as he says them. However, the look in his eyes is intense, as if I’m the only thing he can see. It helps his words come across — I do feel very loved. Maybe not in the way I’m hoping from him, but loved nevertheless. At least that’s what I think, until he continues, “And if I could, I want to cherish you always.”

This is the problem I have with Jimin. Biting my tongue to keep from asking him to elaborate his statement, I try to not get my hopes up. He’s forever uttering things that make me feel special, while I know he doesn’t mean anything by them. His rejection from years ago is as clear in my mind as if it happened yesterday. Yet to this day I still can’t get over him, even after being forced to hear the bitter truth ages ago. “Thanks.” Lowering my gaze towards my plate to hide my tears, I stab at the cake. Suddenly the delicious dessert doesn’t look so appealing anymore. “You don’t need to go this far just because you feel bad for me though. I’m a big girl. I can handle a breakup or two.”

My statement, heavily injected with denial, is met with complete silence. Nervously, I lift my head, chancing a glance at him out of curiosity. His soft features have been rearranged to one of... anger? Frustration? He’s taking deep breaths, as if to calm himself down. At the moment, he’s about to burst into a tirade, which occasionally happens when I do something stupid that warrants a scolding from him. But this time, for some reason, he’s trying to hold it in. While I’ve never relished being reprimanded like a child, no matter how much I deserve it, funnily enough, I find myself eager to find out what he’s trying so hard to keep in. “I didn’t do any of this because I feel bad for you,” he grinds out between his teeth — even after cooling down somewhat, he’s unable to completely contain his vexation. If this is his tempered down version, what had he originally meant to say? “It’s only because you’ve broken up that I can do this. I’ve always wanted to indulge you. All the time if I could, but you’ve always had a boyfriend, haven’t you? I didn’t want to cause trouble.”

Okay, this is seriously maddening. How am I supposed to get over him when he frequently sends mixed signals through his words and actions? Sometimes I really want to grab him by the shoulders, shake him hard and demand him to treat me like a friend since he only sees me as one. I like to tell myself that he treats me differently than his other female friends when I watch him interact with them, but I cannot convince myself that this is true. I know I can’t look at them objectively. What if I’m fantasising by myself, fancying that he treats me better, when in reality he behaves similarly towards everyone, and I’m just seeing him with rose-tinted lenses? I really hate myself when I’m like this. When it comes to Jimin, my logic lays down the hard truth mercilessly, but my wishful side can never fully accept it, encouraging me to indulge in useless visions of us together. 

Out of reflex more than anything else, I laugh self-deprecatingly. If imagining being with Jimin would bring me the most pain, then I’ll just focus on everything else. Even if that may hurt me as well. Nothing can be as bad as being rejected by him. And thanks to my brain reminding me that he doesn’t want me everytime I fantasise about us, I’ve felt the pain of rejection again and again, even if it’s all replayed memories in my own head. “Being single sucks,” I try to make it out as a joke, stabbing at the cake, picturing Se Hoon’s face there and maiming him repeatedly. It’s nowhere near as satisfying as it would be to do it to the real thing. He’s the reason Jimin is here now, so close to me for such a long duration while I’m single and vulnerable. Fucking Se Hoon. “It just reminds me that I’m not good enough for the guy I really want.”

“That guy must be the stupidest person on Earth,” Jimin quips loyally at once. I keep my head down so he doesn’t see me roll my eyes at his ignorant statement. How can he be so dense? The most devastating moment of my life, doled out by the person I love most, my best friend, and he doesn’t even remember that he was the one who’d said that.

Jimin and I have known each other since we were in kindergarten, but I have no idea how long it has been since I fell in love with him. It’s just one of those emotions that builds up gradually, so subtly that you don’t notice until one day; BAM! You realise that you love him and there’s no turning back. But even back then, before the rejection,  we’d grown really close, and I wasn’t sure if it was wise to jeopardise our friendship by coming clean about my romantic feelings for him.

It turned out that my hesitation was for the best, because Jimin made his feelings for me crystal clear in our second year of high school. He doesn’t know that I’m aware of it, though, since I’d heard my name being mentioned by one of his friends as I was approaching, and quietly hid against the wall around the corner to eavesdrop on their conversation.

Jimin’s then-new-girlfriend was with the group, being harassed by one of his friends, Ji Woo. Although I can’t remember who she was, or even her face, I do remember feeling some satisfaction over the fact that Jimin’s friends didn’t like her. It was a feeling that I shared. “I’m surprised you’re with her, Jimin,” Ji Woo had commented, not at all caring that she was right there with them. “When there’s already a perfect girl for you.”

“Really?” Jimin had pressed the button on the vending machine, and I’d heard the loud clanking sound of his drink being dropped into the hatch. “And who is it? Must have walked right by me.”

“He means your best friend, you dumbass,” another one of Jimin’s friends, Ha Rim, had filled him in. His then-girlfriend had made an outraged sound at hearing Jimin’s friends promote me to replace her, but no one other than Jimin seemed to pay her any attention. They were acting like only thin air was present where she stood, which was a good indication of how annoying she was. I never understood what Jimin had seen in her. True, she was extremely pretty, but other than that, she had no redeeming qualities. Peeking out of my corner, I’d seen Jimin rub her shoulder placatingly as he’d chuckled.

He’d said my name in a disbelieving tone, as if the idea of me being his girlfriend was so ridiculous that it was out of this world. The way he’d said it echoed in my mind for many weeks after that. I could still hear it in my head sometimes. “She’s one of us, yeah? You don’t fuck a bro, that’s gross.”

“I don’t know if she’d appreciate you treating her like one of the ‘bros’, Jimin,” Ha Rim had rebuked him gently, but it didn’t change Jimin’s mind. He’d just shrugged, not willing to get into an argument with them.

“Whatever it is, she’s just not girlfriend material.”

I hadn’t stayed to hear anything else after that, since I’d fled from the scene, afraid that my sobs would break out and they would discover me. Since then I’d done everything I could think of to get over him, but nothing had worked. All my boyfriends were just distractions, temporary fixes to the gaping hole in my heart that could never be filled.

“How I wish he knew that,” I say cryptically. A savage laugh bubbles up my throat, hearing Jimin unknowingly call himself stupid, but I refrain myself. My rage over his befuddling attitude still manages to sour the delectable dessert, and I shove down the rest of it. Before the day is completely ruined, it’s better if we return to the hotel. 

Being the dense dummy that he is, Jimin doesn’t notice that anything’s amiss, and we get into the car to drive back without incident. The bridge back to the island isn’t too far off from the small town and soon we’re on it once more. “There’s another bridge connecting the island to the mainland, you know,” Jimin breaks the more-or-less comfortable silence with this little tidbit of information.

“I know. You can see it from this bridge.” It makes me look to my right, past Jimin in the direction of the first bridge, just to double-check if I can see it from here. I’m sure I saw it during the day, but it’s a completely different scene now that it’s nighttime. The orange lamps overhead lighting our way along the second bridge are dull, but the same ones appear romantic and beautiful after a stretch of darkness in between the two bridges, illuminating the first bridge. Is the view of the second bridge just as pretty if we were to look at it from the first one? I’m not sure, but I’m content with enjoying the view from here.

“Then do you know that this is the longest bridge in Malaysia?” Jimin’s voice draws my eyes back from the distance to the man being outlined by the scenery I’ve been staring at. Unlike the flickering glow of the fireflies, the bulbs shine relentlessly from afar, never giving up on irradiating Jimin’s face. While not quite the same view, these lights make him look just as dazzling as he had in the boat. A halo of soft backlight, juxtaposing against the night to bathe him in their radiance.

Although I’ve been staring at him like an idiot, or perhaps because I’m proving myself a veritable one, only when he calls my name does it dawn on me that we’re having a conversation. Well, sort of. I’m not really in a chatty mood, but he has been making stabs at sparking up a discussion. “Uh,” I grunt without thinking, then mentally hit myself for pushing myself further down the ‘being a dummy’ road.

“What does that mean?” Jimin laughs, sparing me a quick glance before turning his focus back on the road. The windsocks are blowing merrily in a perpendicular direction to the mostly straight lanes, and Jimin is taking care not to drive too fast. It’s hard for me to ensure that we’re not speeding when there are hardly any cars around to compare our speed to. I can almost believe that Jimin and I are the only ones in this world, on a never-ending road surrounded by the sea. “Do you know or not?”

“No.” My eyes shift away as I answer, since I have no idea what I don’t know. Which is a fair answer – either I didn’t hear what he’d asked me, or I simply got distracted and forgot. Both sounds highly likely. Sensing a risk of him further probing me on whatever topic it is and figuring out that I haven’t been paying attention, I roll down the car window, hoping some fresh air will clear my mind.

Boy, is that a wrong decision. A strong, unrelenting gust of wind immediately blasts into the car. Jimin’s surprised yelp is barely heard over the loud howl from the sea, exacerbated by the speed we’re going at. Before the window has even reached halfway down, I pull the tiny lever the other way, quickly closing it back up.

“What was that?” As soon as soothing quiet fills the car again, Jimin demands to know the reason behind my inexplicable actions. While he doesn’t sound angry, it’s obvious that he’s genuinely concerned. I can’t blame him, after everything that’s been happening since last night. “You’ve been acting really weird.”

My reflection on the window on my side of the car shows a frowning woman with mussed hair chewing nervously on her bottom lip, brows fused together in confusion and frustration. “I feel out of it. But I’m not sure why.” This much is true. After suppressing my feelings for Jimin successfully since I was in school, why are they surfacing now? If I’ve known that we will never end up together for just as long, why is the pain becoming unbearable now? How can one kiss cause my world to implode? The emotional roller coaster has wrung me out and left me completely bewildered. Everything is so jumbled up inside my head that I’m not even sure where to even begin unravelling the mess.

At first Jimin doesn’t respond, which is understandable. I wouldn’t know what to say to such a vague statement either. We eventually reach the other end of the bridge. The scenery morphs from a dreamy wonderland to cold reality, with factories lining up the side of the road, replacing the endless sea. “Who’s that guy?”

“What guy?” This time I’m sure I haven’t been wrapped in my own thoughts, yet I still can’t make the head or tail of whatever Jimin is asking. Maybe I’ve lost all my wits for the second night in a row, even though this time there isn’t a drop of alcohol in me.

“The one that you want,” he clarifies bluntly.

What am I supposed to answer? ‘It’s you, stupid’?

Not wanting to make the rest of the ride more awkward than it is, I shrug. “Just a guy.” Just the kindest, perfect, heart-warming, densest guy.

Up until he parks the car next to the hotel, Jimin attempts to wear down my defenses, unwilling to leave his curiosity unsatisfied since I don’t fly off the handle or directly ask him to stop. Truthfully, the urge to tell him is becoming stronger by the minute. The dam holding my feelings back has become strained without my noticing. Just one more drop of persuasion threatens to loosen my tongue.

After making sure that I’ve gotten out of the car safely and closed the door, he locks the car. However, when he starts walking towards the hotel, I follow him at a much slower pace, lagging behind. Alternating between looking at the ground and his lean back. It doesn’t take long for him to notice that I’m getting farther and farther away from him; my slowing and fainting footsteps are a giveaway. Unsurprisingly, he turns back, wanting to return for me. However, his approach only heightens my nervousness. “Do you really want to know who he is?” I blurt out when he’s about a meter away from me. If he gets any closer, I don’t think I’ll be able to gather the courage to say it.

Thankfully, he stops at my question. Sensing my vulnerability. Like a bewildered, terrified animal, wary of anyone getting closer. “Of course, if you’re okay with sharing with me.”

Before I can change my mind or rethink my decision, I take the plunge. “It’s you.”

“Huh?” Why is he acting shocked? I think angrily, unfairly. He has no right to be surprised by this. This is not supposed to be news to him. “I’m the one? That you’re not good enough for?”

“It’s you, Jimin. You’re the one I want to be with.” Damn it, my voice is already cracking. But now that I’ve started, I can’t stop. All the things I’ve bottled up inside have become hot and angry from the constantly added pressure of being kept secret for so long. At this point, I might hate myself more than I love him. I hate myself because I still love him. “Isn’t it laughable? Even though you already made it clear that I’m not good enough for you from the beginning, I still can’t move on.”

Horrified by the words rushing like waterfall from my mouth, I try to escape, but Jimin catches my arm as I stride past him. I would have stumbled if his grip wasn’t so strong. In contrast to his strength, the street lamp is enough for me to see that all colour has drained from his face. “I would have never said such a thing. When did I say that?” His challenging words come out in an intense whisper, like he can’t believe he ever did such a thing and yet unsure if he hadn’t.

“I don’t know. High school, maybe?” It’s too late but I still play it off as if it isn’t a big deal. Like I don’t remember every detail of that excruciating incident vividly. “I’m not girlfriend material, and you made sure Ji Woo and Ha Rim know that too. And.. someone-or-other girl. Whoever it was you were dating back then. Can’t remember her name.”

I didn’t think it was possible for Jimin to grow paler, but he does, and his hold on me loosens as well. Not wanting to hear an insincere apology years too late, or worse, an encore of how I’m not girlfriend material, I yank myself out of his grasp and practically run into the safety of the building.

Once I’m ensconced in the relative safety of our room, I sit on the edge of the bed and take three deep breaths before panicking. What have I done?! It doesn’t look like Jimin pursued me inside, but he’s going to come in sooner or later. What will I say to him then? How will I ever face him again?

Sighing, I let my body slump dejectedly. I shouldn’t have said anything. Ever. I’ve always known that, but all the pent-up emotions have accumulated for far too long, and under constant continuous stress on this trip, they finally spilled over. And I had to choose the worst time and place to do it — in a foreign country where I have no place to run to. Just as I’m berating myself for that particular bit of foolishness, I hear the outside door to our room open and close. Belatedly realising that I should have searched for a place to hide before agonising over my recent mistakes, I get into a frenzy, whipping my head around every which way, desperately looking for a hole to crawl into.

That’s how Jimin finds me with my arms stretched wide, holding the doors to the wardrobe open, and one of my legs inside the furniture. “Uh.” Not the first time a dumb monosyllable is all I can think of today, but still, way to go.

“What are you doing?” Seeing my crazy antics, Jimin’s tortured expression rearranges into a befuddled one.

“Uhm, nothing.” Climbing out of the furniture, I pretend that I walk out of closets every day of my life. It doesn’t help ease the awkwardness after I close the doors and lean on them, though. I don’t trust myself to not say any more stupid things, and it looks like Jimin doesn’t know what to say either. But he does have something to say, if the way he opens his mouth, pauses, then closes it again is any indication. Seeing this, I keep quiet, waiting for him to figure out where to start. I’m not sure if I’m going to like anything he has to say, but short of jumping out of the balcony, I don’t see any way to escape from him. I cast a longing gaze at the door leading to it, wondering if it’s at all possible.

After what feels like an eternity, Jimin hesitantly hedges, “Uhm, can we… talk?”

I nod, still not trusting my verbal communication skills.

Jimin walks further into the room to take a seat at the edge of the bed, less than two meters from the wardrobe, and I have to fight the urge to distance myself from him. He inhales deeply, loud enough for me to hear, and finally starts. “Look, I’m really sorry about what I said back then. I didn’t even remember that it happened.”

“Of course you didn’t. It didn’t happen to you,” I bite out. Even though I can see that he’s beating himself up over it, I can’t help but drive the nail a little deeper. It has been a wound that has always festered under the surface, never healing.

“You’re right.” Jimin’s ready admission makes me feel slightly bad for being mean over it. “I have no excuse. It was a horrible thing to say. And it wasn’t true at all.”

“It wasn’t?” Damn it, I’m not supposed to be happy about it! Getting my hopes up over just a few vague words is only going to screw me over again, but I can’t stop myself from being elated. Did I mishear him? Did I misunderstand him somehow? So many lessons and I clearly haven’t learnt anything at all.

With a shake of his head, he explains; “Back then I was a dumb kid with raging hormones, and all I could think about was fucking everything that moved. Heh.” He lowers his head and scratches the back of it sheepishly, aware of how immature and shallow he was. Involuntarily, I soften at his words and actions, with his hair getting messy from his vigorous haphazard brushing. “You’ve never been someone that I want to simply fool around with. I might not have been smart enough to realise how special you are back then, but I knew that much. I must have said that to get that girl to go out with me. You, not being good enough for me – that’s ridiculous. If anything, I’m not good enough for you.”

“Oh.” Despite wishing for something like this, now that it has become reality, I can hardly believe it. “So me not being girlfriend material–“

“Was not true at all.” Jimin leans forward to take my right hand, securing it in both of his. He turns up his eyes at me, silently pleading for me to understand. To forgive him. And my defences against Jimin have always been paper-thin. “Is still not true. God.” He hangs his head again in defeat, slightly pulling me towards him as he sags against the bed. “It can’t be more opposite than that. You’re the one I’ve been in love with for the longest time.”

“What?” I try to breathe, but the air is lost somewhere in my lungs.

Instead of answering, Jimin stands up. The sudden movement startles me, especially as it puts him just inches away from me. The warmth is not just from our connected hands now, but I can feel it radiating from his whole body in the coolness of the air-conditioned room. His words coupled with his nearness make me even hotter – probably even more than the scorching outdoors in Penang during the day. When he reaches up to softly caress the side of my face, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear, I can’t be sure that I haven’t self-combusted. “You’ve become more than my best friend for ages. I might have even loved you since we were in school. Hell, I don’t know.” Taking another step forward, he closes the little distance left between us to lean his head against my shoulder. Facing this completely unexpected progress, I stand there stiffly, not knowing what else to do except trying not to lose my head. “I wanted to tell you so many times, but you’ve always had a boyfriend hanging around. Every time I swore I’d tell you once you broke up, but before I could work up the courage to say anything you’ve already found a new one. You never considered me, so I thought you just didn’t think of me that way. I guess I know why now.” Lifting his head, he stares into my eyes earnestly. I can’t look away even if I wanted to. His face is etched with regret, and yet I can see hope buried in his eyes. It mirrors the hope I’ve always felt. I just didn’t know that he felt the same way. “I’m really sorry for being a dick.”

A bubble of horrified laughter bursts out at hearing him describe himself as such. Trust Jimin to mend my bruised heart so easily, and break such a heavy moment by sort-of-playfully bashing himself. He deserves it, but now knowing that I’ve put him through similar anguish, I can’t stay mad at him for long. “It’s okay,” I say with a teary smile.

“Well, the cat’s out of the bag now. I love you.” He cocks his head, then asks, “You’re single now, right?”

Another string of gleeful laughter fills the room. “I am,” I confirm.

“Would you do me the honour of being my girlfriend, then?”

“I would.”

“Finally,” he sighs in relief, and my next round of giggles is lost somewhere between our lips as Jimin kisses me. If our first kiss was incredible, this one is a hundred times better. With no more doubts plaguing my mind, I can give all of myself into my love for Jimin. Just as he’s giving to me. At first he cups my face in his hands, tilting his head to deepen our kiss. In the hazy air of passion, it’s unclear who started to open up beyond the joining of our lips. I know he traced the line between my lips at some point, but I also sucked on his full bottom lip that has always, always caught my attention. Among his many flattering features, it’s the one that has always struck me as striking. A guy shouldn’t have such seductive, plump lips that no woman can resist.

Soon his hand is pressing me to him from the nape of my neck, like I’m not close enough to him. He needs to bring me closer. Our tongues dance with each other, within our mouths like they’re dark, dangerous ballrooms, before things get more intense, and these caverns morph into wet, sweaty arenas, where we wrestle out our lust. In a match that is a win-win for both players, where the energy only heightens, never ending. The palm covering my cheek moves so his arm can wrap against my waist, crushing me against him. Every part of my body is touching his, sending tremors of excitement from outside in. I huff against his mouth, out of breath, but past caring. I just want Jimin. More of him. All of him. And then some more.

From the looks of things, Jimin doesn’t want to let me go either. A tell-tale bulge is impossible to miss, but when I feel it pressing against me, a modicum of sense nudges against my muggy brain. Regretfully breaking the kiss, I pant out, “We should… take… a shower,” in between fighting my lungs for air.

Jimin’s groan ends in a whine that usually gets him what he wants. “Do we have to?”

“We should. I’m all sweaty.” Being outside most of the day has left me sticky. It’s one of those things that you can’t forget or ignore once you’ve noticed it, and I’m starting to feel uncomfortable. What’s going to transpire between Jimin and I is a no-brainer, and I don’t want my first time with him to be when I’m smelling of sweat.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to sweat either way.” Unwilling to stop for something as trivial as cleaning up when we’re bound to get dirty again, Jimin slips his hand under my shirt, attempting to get me to agree with him.

However, I will not be deterred, even if my moan at his palm stroking the side of my body doesn’t sound very convincing. “Please, Jimin. It would make me feel better.”

This time Jimin’s groan is one of defeat. “Fine.” Honestly, I’m surprised that he relented so easily. I never really noticed how much he normally gives up for me. Perhaps I only notice when he’s whining like a child on the occasions where he really doesn’t want to give in, so I thought that he always gets his way. But if I really stop to think about it, he rarely pulls such an act – most of the time he actually listens to what I want, or outright asks me, and goes along with whatever I wish. Heart swelling with renewed affection, I nod without hesitation when he tugs against the hem of my shirt. “May I?”

Baring the tops of my breasts by removing my shirt, he can’t seem to stop himself from ogling them in my bra. Pushing so my back is against the closet, he dips his mouth against the skin available to him as his fingers fiddle with the clasp of my bra. Once the garment is loosened, he all but pulls it off, tossing to the floor, so he can move on to my nipples. “Jimin!” My cry for him is from pleasure, but he mistakes it as a warning.

“Just… for a little bit.” My right nipple pucker under the ministrations of his tongue, growing stiff more quickly than it takes for him to unbutton and unzip my jeans, dragging them onto the floor with my panties. It’s all happening so fast. I haven’t even processed the fact that I’m now completely naked before him, in the dimness of the room filled only by a lone lamp in the corner I’d switched on when I came in. He slips his knee between my legs, spreading them apart. What his words cannot achieve; lowering my defenses, is being threatened by the difference between the texture of his jeans and the smoothness of my bare legs.

And Jimin, that devil, knows this very well. Propping his leg up against the sturdy wooden wardrobe, he brings it into contact with my exposed center. The friction draws a moan from me instantly, and without prompting, I begin to rub against him like a deranged nymphomaniac, seeking traction from the rough material against my pussy. He hasn’t even touched me there, yet I’m already wet enough to lubricate my movements against his muscular thigh. Each stroke stimulates countless sparks that shakes my body like electricity. I know I should stop, but I can’t. Latching on to his upper arms, I lift my head up to look at him imploringly. “Jimin… please.” Right now I’m not even sure what I’m asking from him.

There must be something on my face that makes him look at me with blazing fire in his eyes, before swooping down to brand another soul-searing kiss on my lips. How am I supposed to hold myself back when he’s holding me so closely, when his hard muscles encourage me to move my hips even faster, when he takes my lips like he wants to inhale my very soul into his body? It hasn’t taken much, but I’m already trembling with my impending orgasm. “Fuck,” Jimin spits out, abruptly wrenching himself away from me. My feet land flat against the floor as I howl in protest at having my high yanked away from me.

He doesn’t listen to my objections. Instead he grabs my hand and pulls me in the direction of the bathroom, his free one working furiously to tear his own clothes off. His haste almost makes him trip at the threshold of the bathroom as he attempts to step out of his jeans. My horrified chuckle at this is met with an impatient, don’t-you-dare-laugh glare, which makes it even harder to hold back my mirth.

“Get in,” he growls so ferociously that I stumble backwards, laughter gulped down as my body follows the motion of his chin. Predatory eyes burn holes along my body, suddenly making me self-conscious of my nakedness, but not for long. My own gaze is fixed on him as he moves forward, the clumsiness from a second ago replaced by panther-like steps, only pausing to take off his underwear in a far smoother move than he did his jeans. For the second time, I gulp; on my saliva this time, upon seeing his erection spring out from its confines. While his length looks average, his girth has me excited and apprehensive at the same time. He steps into the glass cubicle, backing me up against the wall, and closes the door separating the shower from the rest of the bathroom behind him. The shower is spacious enough for two people to fit comfortably inside, yet I somehow find myself cornered like a trapped animal. “Well, what are you waiting for?” he asks edgily. “You wanted to shower, didn’t you?” He reaches around me to turn it on.

A stream of cold water hitting my skin makes me gasp, forming goose bumps that are soothed away once it warms to the temperature that Jimin has set. As incensed as I am by the unexpected shift in our relationship and Jimin’s enthusiasm, I’m comforted by having the grime and sweat of the day being washed away.

Jimin’s mind isn’t as easily distracted though. Pressing me up against the wall facing the shower head, he envelops my lips in another fervent kiss. I’m more than happy to give in to it, wrapping my arms around his neck, but instead of holding me, he extends his reach towards the soap, pumping a generous amount of viscous liquid into his palm. “Looks like I’m going to have to help you wash if I want to move things along,” he mutters against my lips.

His soapy palms move slowly down, from my neck, branching outwards along my clavicles then dip down to cup my breasts. My breathing grows heavy as he massages them. Moans start forming in the back of my throat when he begins paying attention to my nipples, flicking them almost playfully with his thumbs. He doesn’t remain there long enough for me, one of his hands continuing down my stomach to the apex of my thighs. “Funny, I’d say it’s wetter here than my whole body.” He rubs his fingers against my folds, as if inspecting them. I can’t argue; even though most of the shower water is hitting his back, my pussy is arguably wetter than he is, and I’m pretty sure it’s not from the pipes.

Without warning, Jimin pushes his index finger in, eliciting a startled gasp from me. “So wet,” he crows delightedly at how easily it slips in. “Do you think you can fit another one in here?” He doesn’t wait for my response before cramming another finger in, making me whimper in pleasure. “You like how it feels?” I nod, turning my face away in embarrassment. It doesn’t deter Jimin. He simply whispers in my exposed ear, “You want me to fuck you with my fingers?”

Yes. I want it so badly, yet to say the words is mortifying, so I nod again. Jimin tsk-tsks disapprovingly at my refusal to vocalise my answer. “Communication is key to a relationship, you know,” he teases, pushing his fingers in up to his knuckles, but refusing to move them any more. “How am I supposed to know what you want if you won’t tell me?”

This cruelly taunting side of Jimin is new to me. I can’t say that I hate it. Not when it’s turning me on so much. “Please Jimin,” I plead with him. “Fuck me with your fingers.”

Tilting his head to the side, Jimin puts on a show of considering my plea. Then he shakes his head, and I know that he never intended to do it in the first place. “No, I don’t think I will.” Leaning forward, he nibbles at my earlobe, telling me, “I’d rather taste you instead.”

Getting the full brunt of the jet of water from the shower when Jimin suddenly kneels at my feet, I sputter in surprise. Jimin uses my momentary confusion to spread my legs even further apart so he can bury his face between them. “Oh!” My hands fly to grasp at his wet hair, holding on for dear life as he goes all out from the get-go. Easily capturing my clit between his lips, he sucks hard, making my knees buckle and my previously unfulfilled orgasm rush back with a vengeance. “Jimin!!” He’s relentlessly alternating between flicking the tiny bud with the tip of his tongue and trying to suck it right off, and I can’t withstand his attack. Flick, flick, flick. And then suck, as hard as he can. In less than a minute I’ve lost completely, making him bear my weight as I cum violently. If he isn’t holding me up by the waist, I probably would’ve collapsed, maybe even slipped in the wet cubicle. Without missing a beat, he releases my clit to run his tongue along my slit, lapping up every drop of his victorious spoils and prolonging my orgasm.

Standing up, he maintains his hold on me, which I appreciate because I still don’t trust the strength of my legs. “You okay?” I can barely register his question in the hazy aftermath of my orgasm, but I manage to nod. Jimin pumps more soap to wash me with as I recover, then swiftly washes himself. Once he determines that both of us are clean enough, he turns the water off. “Can we go now?” He asks, wrapping his arms around me so he can rub his dick, which has grown slightly soft, against my belly. It’s unfair that he’s pushing his advantage like that. Just doing this is getting me aroused again.

As much as I want to get out as soon as we can, there is unfortunately one thing that we need to do first. “Jimin, we should dry our hair. Otherwise we’ll catch a chill.”

Relenting after letting out only one dissatisfied huff indicates that he agrees with me. It doesn’t mean that he’s happy with it. I smother a smile at his adorable childishness, which is a stark contrast to what he was just doing to me in the shower, and what he wants to skip all these small details to do to me in bed. By the time I’ve wrapped myself in a towel, he’s already by the socket next to the sink, hair dryer in hand. “Hurry, hurry,” he urges, pointing the device on full blast to my face.

“Ooof!” Instinctively squeezing my eyes shut to protect them from the powerful gust of warm air, I blindly swipe in his direction, hoping to smack Jimin for his immature prank and the mischievous guffawing that comes with it. Once Jimin directs the nozzle back towards his own hair and out of my face, I fix him a glare, which he returns with a Cheshire grin. He rakes his fingers through his hair roughly, anxious to be done with it. Sure enough, he finishes in record time. “Come on, let’s do you.” He tries to turn me around, but I refuse the offer, giving his messy job, with soft strands sticking up every which way, a pointed look.

“I’ll do it myself, thanks.”

Wisely deciding that handing me the hair dryer will be quicker than trying to argue with me, he relents. Then he leans against the wall next to the sink. With only a towel around his waist, looking like he has all the time in the world to just watch me do something as mundane as drying my hair. I turn towards the mirror, mentally instructing my eyes not to look at him. However, they’re not keen to follow orders, and flick towards his reflection every few seconds. It’s impossible for me to calm myself down like this. Especially not when I can see the obvious tent in his towel, threatening to part the cloth that’s barely covering him. It must have grown harder from the friction against my stomach just now, as well as the anticipation of what’s to come.

 “You can go ahead and wait outside.”

“Eh?” He starts to protest but stops when he sees my entreating look. “Okay,” he yields in a wounded puppy pitch. “But hurry, okay?”

I nod, only turning towards the mirror again after I see him closing the door to the bathroom. I’m glad that he’s giving me this bit of space to think. Even though I’m ecstatic by this turn of events, there’s so much to process that it’s overwhelming. And I’m hesitant to go all the way with Jimin without sorting it out. To me it’s a monumental thing. A really huge step. My sigh is drowned out by the loud whirring of the hair dryer, but the sound has become white noise.

So the incident that has plagued me for so many years turned out to be a misunderstanding. While it doesn’t excuse Jimin from what he’d said, there was never any truth behind those words. It had always baffled me that Jimin would think, much less say, such a thing. Even if he wasn’t interested in me, it doesn’t seem to be in line with Jimin’s personality to measure a girl’s worth so much as to label her something as horrid as ‘not girlfriend material’. The most is he’d think someone isn’t his type, and just move on. He’s one of the kindest people I know, but he isn’t perfect. I’m aware of that. We were young back then. It makes more sense that Jimin was only thinking about getting a girl in bed with him rather than weighing the consequences or fairness of saying something so hurtful.

Switching the electric device off, I gaze at myself in the mirror one last time, finding resolution. What matters now is the future. Am I ready to go forward?

The first thing I notice when I enter the bedroom is that Jimin has gathered all the pillows on his side of the bed, and is resting against them. Before I can wonder what he’s up to, he notices my presence and sits up, like a puppy waiting for his master to come home. It would have been heart-meltingly cute and endearing if he wasn’t gripping his erection in his right hand. Was he masturbating while waiting for me? The thought of it is more arousing than I’d have thought. Maybe there is something wrong with me. “Come here,” he beckons me over, and I approach him a little warily. He helps me atop the bed, manoeuvring my legs so I sit astride his lap.

This puts me face-to-face with him, but more importantly, he’s holding me so I’m sitting right atop his cock. I can predict a very speedy loss in focus. “Jimin,” I begin to ask, then moan when he grinds his hips against mine. “Jimin, are you sure about this?”

“A hundred and ten percent,” he responds, but his attention isn’t on me. Even in the semi-darkness, I can see his eyes are narrowed in the direction of our lower bodies.

Exasperated, I try again, wanting to make myself clear before anything happens that I may regret later. Damn, I’m cockblocking myself, but I know that I’ll be in a world of hurt if this turns out to be a temporary thing. I may be asking for too much, but I can’t do it. Not with Jimin. “No, not just this. I mean… are you sure about… going into a relationship with me? What if…”

Jimin looks up, his expression turning serious, and places a finger against my lips. “Stop that. We’ve known each other since we were kids, and I think I know you pretty well.” He briefly stops, waiting for confirmation, and I nod. No one knows me better than Jimin does. “You always overthink things, and when you’re not doing that, your head is filled with thoughts of food.” Even though his assessment is accurate, it doesn’t stop me from hitting him in the chest indignantly, but he only chortles. “It doesn’t matter what you lack. I still love you after all this time, and I’m confident that I won’t stop, no matter what happens. And about what I said back then…” Adopting a sober mien, he brushes my cheek lovingly, leaning closer to gaze into my eyes intently. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make up for it. Okay?”

“Okay,” I concede tearfully. There’s no one else who can put me at ease so easily. I wouldn’t say that the years-old scar has magically healed, but his touch soothes away all the pain. Closing the scant centimeters between us, I give him a quick peck. An innocent move, which Jimin changes immediately by drawing me into his arms, pulling me back in for a far more intense kiss. He pulls on my towel, already loosened by my movements, exposing my body to his touch. It’s like there’s fire in his fingertips, setting me aflame wherever he touches – from my hip, to the side of my waist, up to my breasts. Devilishly zoning in on my sensitive spots, sweeping back and forth over the stiffening tips of my chest. All night he has been giving me pleasure, and I want to return the favour.

Ignoring both the loss of the heady sensation from being in contact with his cock and Jimin’s growl of protest, I shift myself down towards the foot of the bed. Taking his half-hard erection in my hand, once again I marvel at its girth. Already I can’t wrap my hand completely around it. The thought of having it inside me is making me shiver in anticipation. Wanting to get a feel of it, I slide my hand up from the base, taking care not to be too rough with my dry hand. It’s enough to get Jimin to moan, the wild yet melodic sound instantly heating up my insides with lust. I want to make him feel good. I move down even further, lowering myself to do just that, but Jimin stops me halfway. “Wait.”

Surprised that he would keep me from sucking him off, I glance up at him, tucking my hair behind my ear so that it doesn’t obstruct my view. “Hmm?”

“Plenty of time for that later,” he exhales restlessly. Grabbing me by my waist, he lifts me up slightly, getting me off of him. Then he wiggles down the space between me and the mattress, comically moving to lie down on his back. It’s hard not to snort all over him.

“What are you doing?” Just how many times is he going to make me laugh while we try to get it on tonight?

“Getting what I want,” he pants, and I’m guessing it’s due to the exertion of his completely unnecessary action rather than being horny. Jimin is such an idiot sometimes. He ignores my eye roll though. “More importantly, are you ready for me?”

Instead of waiting for me to formulate a verbal answer, he reaches down to find the answer for himself. I jolt forward with a moan when Jimin swipes his fingers over my slit, then immediately rams two inside me. I’m sure I dried myself off after getting out of the shower earlier, but somehow I’ve gotten wet enough for his digits to slide into me without much resistance. “So wet already,” Jimin answers for me, even though the mortifying squelching sounds coming from my pussy makes it pretty clear that I’m ready for him. “I want to fuck you. Right now.”

Even though Jimin’s fingers are wrecking the best kind of havoc in me, I want the same thing. More than that, I want to make him feel good too. Before I can put my plan into action though, Jimin slaps the bed angrily. “Shit. I’m clean, but I don’t have a condom.” Scowling, he runs his fingers through his hair angrily, following it with a longer string of curses than I’ve ever heard him utter in my presence. I bite the insides of my cheeks so I can swallow the bubble of laughter back into my throat.

“It’s fine,” I reassure him. “I’m on the pill.” Although I haven’t slept with Se Hoon for ages, I kept taking them. Maybe I’ve continued doing so out of habit. Or maybe I was always unconsciously hoping for something to happen between me and Jimin, as far fetched as it seemed. Well, it’s clearly not as impossible as I’d thought.

“Thank goodness,” Jimin collapses back onto the sheets in relief, amusing me to no end. He doesn’t miss it, and shoots me a look that tells me he’s aware that I’m finding him funny. “I don’t think I can hold back at this point,” he warns me darkly, and I take it as a cue to continue. Bracing my hands on his chest, I sit up shakily. Reading my mind like he always does so expertly, he removes his hand so I can move my hips along the length of his dick. Up and down, up and down, covering him in my juices. I don’t know how he became this hard when I’ve barely done anything for him. But I’ll pleasure both of us now. Lining the tip of his cock with my pussy, I take a deep breath as I feel the bulbous head poking against my entrance. Then I face up to find that Jimin is staring at me with such scorching fire that I can feel my skin blister from the heat. He might just want this more than I do, although I can’t imagine a yearning any stronger than mine.

“Hnng,” I groan as I lower myself down slowly. Belatedly I attempt to figure out the last time I had sex in my head. Even before breaking up, Se Hoon and I hadn’t slept together for a while due to our busy schedules. I didn’t think much of it back then, and had thought that he didn’t mind, either. It turns out that he didn’t mind, but only because he was satisfying his urges with someone else. But I don’t want to think about that now. Not when Jimin’s cock is parting my flesh, its girth pushing my walls aside to make its way in. It’s not even halfway in yet I’m already breathless. The burn feels amazing, even if it’s making me mewl from the pain.

“Does it hurt?” Jimin asks through gritted teeth. “Go slowly.”

Unable to voice an answer, I bob my head in acknowledgement. Taking my time descending on Jimin magnifies the sensation of his cock stretching me out. By the time I’ve sheathed myself over him completely, I feel ready to burst. I’ve never felt so full and I tilt my head back as if to absorb the feeling. But I’m not the only one adjusting to this. Jimin’s grip on either side of my waist is slightly painful, betraying a strength that I wasn’t aware he possesses. “Fuck, so tight,” he grinds out like he can hardly stand the pleasure. “Fuck.”

After giving myself a few seconds to get used to having him inside me, I begin to lift myself up again, then sit back down on him, making both of us groan. I don’t know if I can ever get used to this. Still, I repeat the motion, impaling myself over and over his cock, hips accelerating as I get a sense of the rhythm. Jimin’s unconcealed moans spur me on; knowing how good I’m making me feel drives me to take it higher. But I’m not the only one determined to bring pleasure to my partner.

Even as I bounce on his cock, Jimin manages to reach for my clit, capturing it between his index and middle fingers in a ‘V’. Helped by my rapid movements, he pulls up, exposing my clit to the air. Tongue licking his lips, he looks at it like a delicacy that he’d love to devour. However, unable to do that, he makes do with his thumb. He alternates moving it in circular motions around the nub and grinding against it, all the while pinching it with his other two fingers. My hips stutter from his ministrations, but I don’t want to stop. I can’t, even if I wanted to. Not when he’s stimulating me like this. But I can feel the end approaching me rapidly, faster than I want it to. “Ji—Jimin, wait.”

I should’ve known that he’s not going to do as I say this time. “Give me a good reason to wait,” he challenges.

“I can’t take it.” My body is already shaking from its proximity. I’m about to crest the high, but I want to last longer. “Please, Jimin, or I’m going to come.”

“All the more reason for me not to wait, then.” Jimin takes my reasoning and tosses it out the window. In direct contrast to my request, he teases my clit even more, pushing me forward so I can’t stall it any longer. The knot growing inside me shrinks into itself, compressing impossibly before exploding like fireworks. With a cry of his name, I catch myself from collapsing completely on top of him by bracing my hands on either side of his torso. Jimin releases my clit to grab my waist, pushing me down against him, moaning as he feels my muscles contracting around him. “You’re so sensitive,” he remarks as I start to recover.

There’s nothing I can say to his comment. There’s nothing to say, really. I don’t recall ever being this receptive to someone else’s touch. It has been a while, I think, not wanting to admit that my sensitivity might have been caused by the person touching me, rather than the duration I’ve been deprived of such attention. Burying my face into the crook of Jimin’s shoulder, I inhale his scent; the perfect home to come to after falling down from my high. The realisation that I must be crushing him with my weight comes suddenly. I jolt up to move off of him, but he tightens his hold on my waist, halting me. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Uh, I must be heavy, and I–“ Jimin doesn’t give me the time to inform him that I can barely move, returning me back into place right above him and whispering;

“I’m not done yet.”

Digging his fingers in so deep I’m sure he’ll leave me with bruises, he pulls out of me, all the way to the tip. My sigh at the loss becomes a shriek midway when Jimin slams back all the way in without so much as a warning. He doesn’t stop there; in fact, that’s the speed that he’s setting for me. Pounding into me from underneath without mercy, without hesitation, without pause. My relaxed legs quickly grow tense again, as his rapid thrusting stokes a new fire in me. “Jimin, Jimin!” I call out for him in between gasps, every thrust knocking the air out of my lungs and every shred of intelligible thought out of my head, until his name is all that remains. My feet curl inwards, trying to withstand the pleasure but in futility. If he isn’t gripping me so firmly, I would have ended up sprawled over him. However, I have nowhere to run. Forced to take every single one of his hard thrusts. Each one making my lower body wrap tighter and tighter around him.

“Close.” Out of breath, Jimin manages to utter only one word, but he slips a hand between our bodies, closer now that I’ve crumpled over him under his rough pounding, leaving no question as to what he means when he pinches my clit between his fingers again. My body contracts until there’s no space left, and I can’t breathe. Whether my brain is hazy due to the lack of oxygen or because I’m on the verge of cumming, I don’t know. One moment later I climaxing again. Jimin doesn’t need to be told that; my cries of ecstasy and squeezing walls are enough to clue him in. He wraps an arm around my waist and seizes my right shoulder, holding me even more securely in place as his hips accelerates to a speed beyond my imagination. Panting and moaning, I latch onto his shoulders so I can receive his rough thrusts, each one knocking me several inches upwards. Unlike before, Jimin doesn’t give me time to recover, too focused on using my tightening muscles spasming around his cock to reach his own high.

It doesn’t take long, but I’ve regained enough sense of mind to register him sinking his face against my neck as he comes. Each of his grunts accompanying every deliberate, deep thrust, pumping his seed into me is so close to my ear, I can feel the hot air that comes with them. There is an odd feeling of being the one to comfort him as his body quakes. It’s like he trusts me to keep him safe at his most vulnerable, and I immerse myself in the feeling proudly for a while.

By the time Jimin rolls me over to the side, I’m starting to get drowsy. My legs twitch when his limp dick slips out a little, and my eyes flutter open to find that he’s staring at me. “What is it?” Absurdly, I feel a little shy. This is just Jimin after all. On the other hand, I’ve never been with Jimin like this before.

“Nothing. I just can’t believe this isn’t a dream.”

The relatable statement makes me grin. “I know. Me too.”

“It seems like such a waste to just… go to sleep.”

No way. “What do you mean?”

“You know, just…” He shrugs with all the innocence of a toddler, but it doesn’t fool me for one second. Especially when he nuzzles against my neck, then almost immediately switches to kissing and sucking the sensitive flesh. A pressure within makes me moan, feeling myself getting fuller as Jimin grows hard again. “I spent four nights in bed with you and I couldn’t even touch you. Do you know how difficult that was? I was about to go insane.”

The dawn of the following morning is slightly chilly, but that’s what makes it refreshing. Even though I greet the day with a yawn as I rest my forearms against the railing of the balcony, I’m feeling very content and reinvigorated. A light mist shrouding the garden before me gives it a cool, dream-like quality. Each plant has bountiful leaves – it’s always summer in Malaysia, after all – and each one is heavy with morning dew. I wish I could reach and touch the moisture with my fingers.

With time, my brain starts to function more efficiently, and I begin to think about the events of last night. Of course I’m ecstatic about finally being in a romantic relationship with Jimin, the man that I’ve been pining over for so long, but I’d be lying if I say that I don’t have any doubts. I’ve been so focused on getting over him that I never stopped to think what it would mean to have my best friend as my boyfriend. The obvious question is: what if it doesn’t work out between us?

Like Jimin said last night, he has known me for many years now. There aren’t many flaws of mine that he isn’t aware of. I’m quite confident that I know most of the things I need to know about him too. And just like Jimin, none of it has made me fall out of love with him. If anything, his imperfections make me love him even more. I can’t think of any reason that would make us break up, but it’s always a possibility. What would happen to our friendship should the worst come to pass? I hope we can still be friends somehow.

Just the thought of it is depressing enough to make me heave a sigh. There’s no point in speculating about the future. I already know that I can barely endure not being with him. It was torture to watch him with girlfriends when I so desperately, so selfishly wanted to fill that role. Now that my wish has come true, we just have to go forward and do our best. If it doesn’t work out, then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. I’m not delusional enough to think that everything will be perfect from now on, but I hope for every rainy day we have to suffer through, there will be a sunny one that will balance it out. Smiling to myself, I enjoy this blissful feeling I never knew I’m capable of feeling. With Jimin, I’m sure my life will be full of happy days, like an eternal summer.

“What’s up with you?” A teasing, rhetorical question comes from behind, making me jump in surprise. I turn around to find Jimin leaning against the frame of the glass door, looking cool as a cucumber. But I see the laughter dancing in his eyes. “One second you were sighing, and the next you were grinning like an idiot.”

Feeling blood rushing to my cheeks in embarrassment at being caught entertaining my thoughts, I spin back to face the garden. “Nothing! How long have you been here?”

“Long enough to want to get a closer look at you.” Jimin approaches and hugs me from behind. He wastes no time sniffing against my neck like a little puppy. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mmhmm.” How could I not? After that second round, I was ready to nod off, but he’d recovered by then and had asked me if he could take me up on that earlier offer to give him a blowjob. How could I say no? And he wasn’t content to finish up in my mouth, either – no, he wasn’t as rough as he was the first time, but he still finished inside me. It left me exhausted and I went out like a light afterwards. I’m not sure what made me wake up so early, but I do feel well-rested, though quite sore.

“I’m glad.” I can feel and hear him smiling against my ear rather than see it. Although I’m not sure if he’s glad because I’ve gotten enough rest, or because the stiff shaft I can feel pressing against my back needs some attention. Given that he’s already tracing the crevices of my ear with his tongue, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter.

“I’m beginning to think that you’re a monster.” My complaint doesn’t sound very convincing since it’s followed by a keening moan. He’s quick to slide his hand up my thighs and under my bathrobe, discovering that I’m not wearing anything underneath. His sharp inhale lets me know how aroused he got from that revelation.

“I’m not usually this horny,” he admits, leaning me down to rest my upper body against the railing so my ass juts out. I can hear the shuffling of his slippers as he moves back, but before I can turn around to see what he’s doing, I feel his tongue running all the way from the bottom up to my asshole. My back arches from the unexpected jolt of pleasure, hitting me like a bolt of lightning down my spine. “Maybe we need to make up for… what, a decade’s worth of love-making?” Despite being sore, my pussy clenches at the ridiculous notion. A whole  decade? “Fuck, you’re so wet already.” The loud, wet sounds his tongue makes as he laps against my slit doesn’t leave me any room to argue. I only let out a whine when he reaches around to press against my engorged nub. “You’re swollen,” he says concernedly, contrasting with his unrelenting ministrations. “Are you okay?”

“If you’re worried–mmmnn–“ Against my better judgement, I push myself back against his mouth, craving for more. “Why are you doing this?”

Jimin’s reply is lost somewhere within my folds, but once his tongue pushes past my entrance, I stop caring about his answer. It’s amazing how easily Jimin unearths my most sensitive spots. Not just how putting pressure against my clit stimulates me more than circular motions, but also how a feather-like touch along the side of my body makes me tremble or that lightly nibbling my nipples makes me buck beneath him. However, a night of thorough attention has made all of me super sensitive, and I’m already on the verge of tears while my head is screaming for more. “Jimin, please,” I beg. “I need you now.”

Those words are all the encouragement that Jimin needs. Standing behind me, he lifts the lower part of the bathrobe up so he can press his insistent hard-on against my entrance. “No, wait, Jimin.” Remembering where we are right now, I begin to panic. “Let’s go inside.”

Of course, Jimin has never been one to listen to orders. “No one’s up yet,” he overrides my protest, and cuts off any oncoming ones by slamming his hips against mine, pushing his thick cock all the way inside in one stroke. Tears fall from my eyes and my scream breaks the stillness of the morning at the brutal insertion. “Shh,” he comforts me, raining kisses all over the side of my neck and shoulders as I sob. “Someone will hear us if you don’t keep it down.”

“Damn it, Jimin, you’re the meanest – ah! Ah!” I can’t even finish reprimanding him. How can I, when my body reacts to him so easily, and the fact that anyone passing by can see us, or other hotel guests can hear us turns me on even more? Taking a little mercy on me, Jimin grabs my chin, directing me to look back so he can kiss me, somewhat effectively swallowing my moans. The intense kiss matches the force of his thrusts below; slower than last night but with more strength. He lowers his hand to slip it inside my bathrobe, groping my left breast, using it as an anchor as his cock drives me to oblivion. Everything he does intoxicates me, making me drunk to the point I don’t know up and down, so that I no longer give a damn about anyone seeing him pounding into me in broad daylight. All I can think about is the tingling sparks of friction from every stroke of his cock sliding in and out of me, the tiny pinpricks of pleasure and pain like scorching embers feeding a bonfire growing more and more out of control within me. “Jimin,” I gasp when he releases my lips for air, “coming.”

He kisses me, then pulls at my lower lip. “Come,” he coaxes me with his fingers pinching my nipple, making me mewl, and with the short words his brain can muster in his state. “With me. Now.”

After several hard thrusts, Jimin brings me to my climax and follows me right after. He holds me tightly, supporting me so my shaking legs don’t suddenly give way from under me, although I can tell from his quivering body that he’s having trouble keeping himself up. The sturdy railing provides the support we both need, and we cling to it as we catch our breaths. A few minutes later, we’re still panting, but Jimin slowly sits down on the floor, guiding me to sit across his lap. I’ve hugged Jimin countless times before when we were still just friends, but I think after sex might be the best time for cuddling with him.

His comforting arms almost lulls me to sleep, but the gradually escalating heat of the rising sun brings me back to my senses. Opening my eyes, I ask drowsily, “What time is it?”

Jimin shrugs. “Who knows.”

Resisting the urge to follow his devil-may-care attitude, I climb out of his lap to crawl towards the table where I’d left my handphone. My eyes widen when I see the numbers on display. “Jimin! There’s less than three hours before our flight! We need to go, now!”

We get ready and packed in record time. Soon we’re begging our driver to drive us as quickly as possible to the airport, both of us still huffing and panting, but this time for a completely different reason compared to this morning. The young driver shakes his head in disapproval, but accedes to our wishes, driving at a speed I’m not sure is legal, expertly zipping in and out between cars. We earn a few honks, but I try to detach myself from the chaos, leaning back against the seat to try and calm my racing heartbeat.

“This is all your fault, you pervy animal,” I hiss at Jimin under my breath. “If we can’t board our plane you’re going to pay for both our tickets back home.”

Jimin’s smirk is charming and utterly unrepentant. “Worth it.”

Thank you for reading! As always, comments/asks/likes are very welcome :)

#jamaisjoons summer collab #tsb event 2020 #bts smut #ksmutclub #armiesnet #networkbangtan #jimin smut #jimin fluff #jimin angst #jimin fanfic

[peaches-writes]

how to appease your asian aunties ch. 1 - christmas

description: in the immortal words of wine aunts and aunts you’re not even related to but forced to call your aunt at gatherings, ‘do you have a boyfriend?’ member: jisung / han genre: fluff, fake dating au, implied rich kids au, eventual childhood / best friends to lovers au, college au, implied fem reader (but i still used they/them pronouns) word count: 7.5k chapter warning: food, drinking, explicit language, one comment about weight note: insp by a twt meme + this is my first attempt at making a story with parents having a bigger role in them omg

ch. 2 // ch. 3 // series masterlist

Though you’re a semester away from graduating college, with your own circles of friends, clubmates, and close classmates, you still can’t understand why your mom and her sorority batchmates feel the need to have reunion parties every single year. Maybe it’s the product of growing connectivity in this modern age or just simply your wide age gap preventing you from having the same nostalgic feelings attending these dinners; nevertheless, ever since your mom started bringing you to these parties to socialize with her friends’ children when you were four, you've always personally found it a bit troublesome. 

They see each other at mall sales, weekend brunches, weddings, birthdays, and anniversaries all the time—a lot of them even work closely with each other. For as long as you can remember, you can’t help but endlessly wonder in this time of year: will they ever get tired of each other?

As you adjust your coat over your semi-formal attire for this year’s dinner party, you sigh in front of the full-length mirror by your house’s front doors and mentally conclude that they probably never will. This is your 19th reunion dinner now and even from meters away in the kitchen, you can hear your mom fuss to your dad and the helpers either worriedly about the desserts that everyone in the house (and your nearest restaurant branch) was forced to bake two nights ago; or excitedly about seeing her college best friend, Mrs. Hwang, even if they literally just dragged their respective families to the monthly brunch last weekend—like she always does minutes before you leave. She always sounds like a crazed woman but you know deep inside that she’s excited to see her friends again and reminisce about the same old college memories you’ve even memorized by heart now.

It’s cute and all, maybe you’ll even end up the same in a decade or so but you swear at present on the dinner menu tonight that the more you spend your first day of Christmas break attending these dinners, the more you’ll slowly lose your mind over this unofficial holiday tradition: from your mom’s dramatic ramblings at the start of the night to the prospect of spending the rest of the evening laughing off your unofficial aunts and godmothers’ unnecessary backhanded comments and trying not to get caught in the trouble the younger children make.

It really just isn’t exactly your type of scene. It’s like family Christmas parties but with more passive-aggressive internalized drama since you’re not related to any of the guests by blood.

“Y/N, dear, come along now, we’re running late!” Your mom scolds you as she approaches your direction to the double doors, carrying cupcake caddies and cake boxes with your dad and your six house helpers. She’s wearing the dress you helped pick out last month, you observe, which is another tradition of hers. Rich people and not wanting to be seen wearing the same clothes twice, you guess. “Oh dear, I need to fix my hair in the car!”

You take one last look at yourself in the mirror before sprinting to the doors and helping your dad open them. You also take a couple of boxes from one of the helpers as you all pile outside, letting everyone pass through before closing the doors behind you. 

The nine of you then head to your dad’s Ford you parked outside the house gates earlier this afternoon, loading the everything in the back of the car without much difficulty before parting ways with the helpers for tonight with the same house instructions from your mom to not wait up for the three of you.

“Bye!” Your mom waves at your helpers through the rolled down windows on the front passenger seat as your dad begins to drive away from the house. 

Once your house begins growing smaller in the distance behind you, only then does your mom attend to her hair while your dad closes all the windows and locks the doors.

You, on the other hand, lean back in your own seat, taking out your phone to pass the ten minutes travel time to one of your godmothers, Mrs. Kim’s house in the adjacent subdivision.

“Y/M/N! Y/F/N! Welcome!” Mrs. Kim greets you at her house gates with her own mini army of house helpers, kindly helping you and your parents unload your party contributions and transfer them inside her recently renovated kitchen. “Oh, Y/N! Look at you, you look so beautiful tonight!”

You smile politely through the wave of compliments and ‘oh you gained a bit of weight’ comments that follow as you try your best to not to trip over the slippery marble steps leading to the house. Contrary to what your mom has been worrying about earlier at home, you eventually discover that you’re fairly early to the party for the 19th year in a row with only half of the families already in attendance to greet you when you entered the house.

“Y/N, all the teenagers are upstairs on the second floor, by the way.” Mrs. Kim informs you once your cupcakes have been neatly organized in the caddies at the very end of the buffet table, making you cringe internally at her preferred term for you and the other older kids in the house. “Dinner is at 7:30.”

“Thank you, auntie.” You smile one last time at her before excusing yourself to go upstairs, sighing internally in relief that her son, Seungmin, has smartly gathered everyone upstairs for the third year in a row to avoid the aunts and uncles for as much as possible.

You’re not completely fond of the parties, sure, but you can’t deny that there are little parts that have unconsciously grown on you—like your unlikely band of childhood friends and your shared hatred for this particular party.

Climbing up the slippery staircase as fast as you can with a death grip on the railings, you reach the second floor in no time to be greeted by six out of the eight people you’ve sort of grown up with in these parties occupying the common area: Felix and Hyunjin having a Wii dance battle in front of the television, Seungmin and Minho having a violent game of UNO on the coffee table, and Ryujin and Yeji scrolling through their phones on the sofa before abandoning them to approach you at noticing your presence by the staircase.

“Y/N!” Ryujin calls you in as she reaches you first for a brief hug and a short exchange of compliments on each other’s outfits, as if you didn’t just meet at one of your shared class’ Christmas parties yesterday. Though all of you attend the same university, you see Ryujin the most since you’re in the same college, just in different departments. “So nice to see you again!”

“Yeah, yeah, hello to you too again.” You chuckle, more genuinely now in the company of party guests you’re actually comfortable with, before waving hello at Yeji who trails behind. 

Yeji then naturally hugs you next, pulling you a few steps away from the staircase so the two of you don’t topple over when she leans her weight on you. “Y/N, took you long enough!” She says next to your ear. “Hyunjin and I were starting to make bets if the aunties suddenly trapped you downstairs like Chan and Miyoung.”

You hug her back with equal force, a little more than you did with Ryujin, pulling away after to playfully slap her arm for the teasing comment. “I’d sell my arm first before I let that happen.” You retort as the two of you laugh. “I just helped set up desserts—mom made us do an extra two boxes of brownies and cookies this year so you better get a lot later!” 

“Of course, but only if you eat a lot of the spaghetti my mom made!” She reminds, kindly fixing your hair for you. “I missed you! You look so pretty tonight!”

Behind the two girls, the boys also greet you in scattered casual ‘hi’s and ‘hello’s before going back to their own activities. You greet them back as they acknowledge you (and even reciprocate Felix’s long-distance high five mid-dance), crossing off everyone’s names in your mental attendance list as your gaze wanders around the room.

Since Chan is busy being a grown-up and showing off his fiance downstairs, you conclude that only one person is missing among your eight friends.

“Ya, Han Jisung!” As if on cue, the missing eighth person in your list emerges from the staircase behind you as Minho calls his name. “Welcome back!” 

Jisung greets everyone back in their second wave of scattered greetings as he walks to Minho and Seungmin’s direction, purposely acknowledging you last by suddenly turning around and walking backwards to send a wave and wink your way. He almost trips over the long ruffles of the big accent carpet as he does this, making you, Yeji, and Ryujin laugh as the only witnesses.

“Oh my God.” You place a hand to your forehead in secondhand embarrassment, stifling your laughs as your best friend regains his balance and looks behind him in case anyone else saw (which, unfortunately for you, they didn’t). You can’t believe that despite missing last year’s party because of his study abroad program’s strict schedule, he still manages to do his ritual clumsy carpet accident somehow. “This dumbass, I swear.”

In front of you, Jisung only laughs it off as well. “You didn’t see that!” He adjusts his coat with one hand and scratches the nape of his neck with the other in between laughs, walking forward to you properly after with his arms extended for a hug. “Stop laughing and come here, ugly. I missed you.” 

You feign a scowl but hug him back anyway, Yeji and Ryujin slyly stepping away with knowing smiles that only you can see with Jisung’s eyes turned away. You stick your tongue out at the two girls as they abandon you and walk back to the sofa before slapping Jisung’s back harshly for the familiar insult. “Speak for yourself, you ugly. I missed you too.” You reply to his latter comment with an amused chuckle of your own. “How are you?”

“Better now that I’m seeing you in person again.” He pulls away after with his signature flirty smirk, visibly eyeing you up and down now while his hands are still on your upper arms. Though he knows such gesture irks you, especially when it comes to the aunts and uncles downstairs, Jisung is the only one among your friends confident enough to tease you this way. Knowing each other a bit longer than everyone else has its perks, he’s come to realize over the years. “Look at you, all dressed up tonight. For me?” 

“Of course I’m all dressed up tonight, it’s Chan’s engagement announcement later.” You retort, swatting his hand away to adjust your now wrinkled clothes. “You’ve known me for twenty years, already; I think it’s time to stop assuming I’ll ever dress up for you now.” 

He only shakes his head, his teasing and lighthearted mood unwavering in front of you. “Nah, I really think you dressed up for me tonight.” He insists jokingly, a hand lingering over the fabric of your coat. “If I get welcome back parties like this from you in the end, should I just do more one-year study abroad programs?” 

“And leave me to fend off the aunties every other year? I don’t think so.” You’re quick to turn down, walking pass him to rejoin your group now. Jisung naturally follows along like a lost puppy, suddenly changing his mind on joining Minho and Seungmin to follow you around now that you’ve started conversation. “You owe me for leaving me to take all the ‘I can set you up on a blind date with my godchild’ and ‘are you dating anyone’ comments last year.”

The two of you sit next to Ryujin and Yeji who, without even looking up from their phones, quickly scoot away to the other end of the big sofa which makes you send pleading looks their way while Jisung laughs and gains enough confidence to sling an arm on the sofa behind your shoulders.

Another annoying thing from this yearly reunion party is how it’s an unspoken rule in your group to leave you and Jisung alone whenever you’re engaging in your usual banter. You and Jisung are the enemies type of best friend, for God’s sake. You don’t understand how everyone (yes, even Seungmin) thinks the two of you are being cute. 

“I keep telling you, you wouldn’t get all those comments if you just tell them you’re dating someone, dummy.” Jisung returns to your conversation once you’re settled, purposely placing a suggestive emphasis on the pet name. “That’s just the most natural thing to do in front of the aunties.” 

“And who would I show them if they ask who?”

“Try me.” Jisung answers smugly, earning him an eye roll from you.

“As if.” You deadpan, leaning to his arm anyway as you take out your phone and connect to the wifi. “Given your new fuckboy look to the aunties, I’m pretty sure they’ll see past that kind of bullshit, especially Yeji and Hyunjin’s mom and Minho’s mom. They’d be more convinced if I tell them I’m dating Seungmin instead and he’s already in a relationship.”

You don’t even have to look to your side to see Jisung pouting as he whines in complaint, his free hand going up to your side to shake your arm. “That hurts.” He dramatically points to his chest when you show the slightest hint of turning his way. “And having Bumble on your phone isn’t being a fuckboy, I don’t even use it to get dates.” 

“That’s not what the aunties think.” You point out, knowing just how much your aunts and uncles easily misunderstand concepts from your generation like social and dating apps. “I’m telling you, I prefer you swaying the conversation for me over you pretending to be my boyfriend.”

Jisung is quiet for a moment and you’re convinced that he’s decided on ending the conversation at this point until he suddenly twists his body towards you and challenges, "Do you wanna bet? Test out that theory?” He smirks again. “It’d really spice up this party, besides Chan’s announcement, of course.”

Only then do you look up at him since you sat down, deadpanning, “No.” 

“Come on, it’d be really interesting!” He taps you on your shoulders with a laugh, a combination of habits he always does whenever he’s trying to involve you in his usual trouble-making antics. “My mom will finally get off my back for always nagging me as a ‘fuckboy’ and our mom’s sorority friends will finally get off yours for not dating.” 

“You’re crazy.” You comment, crossing your arms in front of him. “I think I’ll just re-download Bumble too and bring someone to the party next year.” 

“You’re really taking too much jabs at my heart right now,” He sighs with a contrasting smirk. “and we’re not even past dinner yet.” 

“Because you deserve it,” You chuckle back at him, pretending to punch him on his stomach which he reacts to dramatically. “I’ve always known you’re a dumbass but that’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard from you.” 

Stubborn, he shakes his head in disagreement as you speak. “Nah, nah, we’ll see about that.”

And as if on cue, Mrs. Kim emerges from the staircase and announces that dinner is ready, luring everyone out of the second floor before you can even ask Jisung what he means with his words. 

“Ya, Han Jisung!” You call for him when he sprints to Seungmin’s side when the latter begins leading everyone downstairs. 

You try catching up to him but the staircase becomes too narrow for you to squeeze past everyone, forcing you to walk with Minho and Ryujin at the back of the group. With this, Jisung then takes this as an opportunity to look up at you from the turn on the staircase and send you another wink, a more confident one this time since he doesn’t trip after. 

Your ‘age group,’ as the aunts differentiate you from the younger children, hogs the extensive buffet and steals the best table in the backyard, near the karaoke machine so you can stop the uncles from singing too much of ‘My Way’ once they get drunk later on and as far away from the children’s table as possible so you don’t have to be obligated to take care of them later on. Chan, the eldest among you now, joins your table with his fiance, Miyoung, after they’ve officially declared their engagement before the buffet opened, happily handing out their save the date cards for their May wedding.

“Just remember, Miyoung, that you can literally get all your wedding needs from us, okay?” Yeji comments amidst all the talk about the wedding, gesturing to everyone as you eat and drink champagne. “Like Y/N and Seungmin for catering, Ryujin for the attires, Felix for your honeymoon trip, me and Hyunjin for the flowers and documentation, and Jisung can dress up as a clown for your reception.” 

“Ya!” Jisung protests to your left, cheeks full of steak and spaghetti that makes the whole table erupt in laughter. “Chan’s and Minho’s studios can arrange the music and the decor; my mom will probably argue with Miyoung’s mom for the locations and hotels.” 

“I can just tell my dad to hire you as a clown, though.” Minho shrugs nonchalantly, further fueling your laughter. To your right, you can even see Miyoung giggling through her glass of champagne, having given up on stifling her laughs. “It’d make good entertainment.” 

Jisung then leans over to you to turn to Miyoung on your other side with a pout and a pleading look to her and Chan. “You two are just letting them drag me like this?” He whines dramatically before turning to you. “Y/N, back me up here.”

“No!” You press a finger up to his forehead and playfully push him back on his seat. “It’s a great idea, what are you talking about?” You tease as you do so, much to more whines from him. “There’s like five months before the wedding, think about it.”

Next to you, Miyoung forces herself to stop laughing, teasingly asking Chan, “Babe, what do you think? Should we just demote Jisung from groomsman to clown?” 

“I’d very much prefer being a groomsman, please.” Jisung asks over Chan, leaning over the table. “I can’t compete with Changbin for best man but as long as I’m not dressing up as a clown I’m good!” 

“Hey, how come Jisung’s a groomsman?” Seungmin complains from across you, frowning cutely at the couple. “Miyoung, I’m your cousin! I introduced you and Chan in university!” 

“You’re a groomsman too, Minnie, don’t worry.” Miyoung reassures with a warm smile before elbowing her fiance. “As long as you can get your parents to cater with Y/N’s family.” 

The offer makes Seungmin’s ear perk up in interest. “Okay, call!” 

“Can we all be in the wedding party at this point? I’m seriously pushing it now, I want to dress up really cute!” Yeji, who sits on Chan’s other side, pleads. 

“Me too! I second that!” Felix backs her up immediately, the two now leaning over the table expectantly in Chan’s direction. “Though I’m not so keen on designing things.”

“Ah, but we have to make more room for actual relatives.” The groom-to-be in question laughs sheepishly. “Though, knowing our parents, I’ll try to squeeze everyone in somewhere in the program. Just let us iron out everyone’s contributions first.” 

“Yeji, I’ll take note of your suggestion, though.” Miyoung points at the younger girl with an appreciative grin. “I’ll message the groupchat once Chan and I meet up again with the planner.” 

Meanwhile, Chan’s last comment gives you and Minho an idea and the two of you suggest in chorus, “Get Seungmin to sing!” 

“Jinx!” You and Minho exchange winks and long distance-high fives from Jisung’s two sides after while Chan and Miyoung ask Seungmin about said idea, making Jisung pout at you. 

The general table conversation then naturally flows to other matters, mostly about the famous names you might be expecting at the wedding, but Jisung doesn’t participate much anymore, turning to you instead and asking, “Ya, are you cheating on me with Minho now? You sacrifice me as entertainment then back Minho up but not me!” He rambles in between mouthfuls of food, making you and even Minho chuckle in amusement despite the latter being in another conversation with Ryujin and Seungmin. “I just left for one year and you’re already doing this to me!” 

“What are you on about again, dumbass?” You roll your eyes with a scoff, stealing a piece of steak from his plate for the third time this dinner. “Finish your food, everyone’s done and you’re so slow!” 

Jisung then belatedly swats your chopsticks away, “I’m almost done, dumbass, stop mooching off my plate!” 

"Then hurry up, you still have to accompany me to the dessert table.” You point out, referring to your least favorite part of this reunion parties: getting attacked by invasive questions on your return trip to the buffet table. “Remember, you owe me. I’m not going in there alone again.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He replies on his last two bites of food, eating one then handing the other one to you. “Have the other one, then.” 

He pokes your lips with the last piece of steak and you instinctively lean your head away, catching the food with your own chopsticks instead. “Thanks.” You bring the food to your mouth before carefully patting the oil he ended up smearing on your lips with your table napkin. 

Across the table and out of your earshot, Yeji elbows Hyunjin and points to the two of you. “They’re at it again.” 

Without you or Jisung looking, Hyunjin looks at the two of you in feign disgust. “I know, every damn year.” 

On Hyunjin’s other side, Seungmin nods frustratingly in agreement which makes Yeji laugh. “We shouldn’t have taken last year for granted, 'no?” He sighs. “Last year was so peaceful without them together.”

“Agreed.” The Hwang cousins agree in chorus before listening to the table’s general conversation again.

Meanwhile, Jisung finally finishes his food and excuses the two of you from the table to get dessert. Miyoung waves at you politely and Felix playfully orders that you two get him cupcakes but the rest only acknowledge you with simple nods as they’re completely engrossed in betting on whose dad will be singing My Way on the karaoke machine first (everyone’s in the middle of betting on Mr. Bang). With that, you and your best friend then take your leave, going back inside the house and making a beeline to the kitchen.

Unfortunately for you, you catch your mom, Mrs. Han, and Mrs. Hwang gossiping by the punch bowls once you reach the kitchen’s open doorway—literally the worst combination of sorority aunts to be bombarded with invasive questions.

“Shit.” You mutter under your breath loud enough for only Jisung to hear, the two of you still out of the three women’s sights. Looking up at Jisung with pleading eyes, you ask, “Should we just go back later?” 

Quickly seeing this as an opportunity to get back at you, Jisung only smiles evilly and links his hands with yours, dragging a hesitant you inside the kitchen and towards the direction of the dessert table. “No, let’s get dessert now, baby.” He dismisses your silent pleas teasingly, making sure his voice is loud enough to get your worst nightmare of trio’s attentions. “Felix also asked us to get cupcakes too, remember?”

And like vultures, the three women immediately turn to you and Jisung as you head in their line of vision, three different shades of questioning looks on their faces. You especially catch your mom’s face, a mixture of surprise, amusement, and genuine curiosity for some reason, which sets all the gears in your head into panic mode while Jisung only gains more confidence from this. 

You swear at that moment on Jisung’s sort of untied shoelaces that you just want Mrs. Kim’s new kitchen floor tiles to swallow you up right there and then.

“Hey, mom!” Jisung greets his own mom with a wave, coming off as sweet to her but mocking to you. He then bows politely to your mom and Mrs. Hwang and you’re forced to follow along for the sake of courtesy. “Mrs. Y/L/N, Mrs. Hwang.” 

The three women look at each other curiously, as if in a silent debate on what they’ve just heard, while Jisung pretends to be unfazed, passing you a dessert plate and examining tonight’s dessert options. 

“Jisung, I swear to God,” You hiss at him as you take a slice of chocolate cake for him. “I’m going to kill you after this party.” 

He leans close to your ear while gathering cupcakes on a separate dessert plate, whispering, “I think it’s too late for that, though.” before your mom, Mrs. Han, and Mrs. Hwang suddenly appear in front of the two of you on the other side of the buffet table with sickeningly sweet smiles, and a million questions. 

You especially fear Jisung’s mom. Mrs. Han and your mom often go to the mall together, especially when there’s an ongoing sale, and you’ve been forced to carry all their shopping bags over the years because Jisung and his older brother usually bail on you. Though she’s very sweet, you’ve always known her to be very picky on some things and it just makes you think that she’s picky on who Jisung dates too. 

“Mom,” You call for your mom with wide eyes. “Do you need anything?” 

But she waves her hand dismissively with a reassuring smile at your question. “Oh, nothing, Y/N dear,” She answers, eyes darting almost threateningly between you and Jisung. It makes your hand shaky as you now complete your tower of dessert plates. “your aunties and I were just talking and we didn’t mean to but we saw you and Jisung so we just got curious and thought we’d ask how the two of you are.” 

“Oh, just ask them already!” Mrs. Hwang exclaims excitedly, slapping your mom’s arm like a school girl. “If you won’t, I will.”

But Mrs. Han is already leaning over the table with a knowing smile, straightforwardly asking, “Are you two kids dating?” which immediately makes your mom and Mrs. Hwang erupt into fits of giggles. “Come on, the aunties want to know!” 

“Oh, um—” You stammer out before Jisung beats you to it. 

For the second time tonight, you feel Jisung’s arm on your shoulder as he speaks over you confidently, “Y-Yeah, we’ve been for a while now!” He then places his dessert plate back on the table and boyishly rubs the nape of his neck which only elicits swooning reactions from the three women, a complete contrast from your expectations a while back. “Just some time before my program ended so it’s been a bit long-distance for the most part.” 

“Oh? But how?” Mrs. Hwang asks curiously. “I didn’t hear of you going to Malaysia this year, Y/N, and Jisung, your mom told me you didn’t have time to go home!”

“You could’ve just told me, Sungie! Then, I would’ve had you sent home earlier if you wanted to see Y/N!” Mrs. Han adds as well, clasping her hands in satisfaction. “I knew this was coming! You two have always been so cute together!” 

Your mom agrees, “Luckily, I refused Mrs. Park’s offer to set Y/N up with another one of her nephews a while back. Had I known you two were dating, I wouldn’t have talked to her tonight at all!”

You open your mouth to try and speak but Jisung beats you to it again. “We’ve been in touch: message, calls, and video calls, you know.” He half-shrugs casually, as if he’s been rehearsing the line for a while now. “It’s our first time meeting since we started seeing each other so telling you guys just kind of flew past us.” 

You groan internally but you also can’t help but sigh in relief at the prospect that you avoided getting set up by Mrs. Park again because of Jisung. Though this doesn’t completely erase your annoyance over him for putting you in this situation, you still owe him a ‘thank you’ after somehow.

So, you conclude that you should just follow along. It’s fake dating your best friend over another pointless blind date at this point now, after all. “You’re okay with this, right?” You decide to ask in a follow-up, pretending to not know that they’ll agree anyway. Next to you, Jisung’s eyes visibly widen and, seeing it from the corner of your eyes, you quickly elbow him in response before giving your most innocent look to your mom. “I mean, Jisung won’t be studying abroad now and we’re graduating, anyway, so it’s cool, right?”

Judging by their softened reactions, you feel like you could challenge Hyunjin to acting now. 

“Of course we’re okay with it!” Your mom answers first, Mrs. Han nodding along happily. “I’m glad that it’s someone I know at least and I’m sure your dad wouldn’t mind.” 

You hear Jisung gulp nervously at the last comment. If you’re afraid of his mom, he’s afraid of your dad because of the one time he helped you practice for your driver’s license and the two of you almost ended up crashing the Ford on your subdivision’s club house. You allow yourself to relax and laugh at this, making him tighten his grip on your shoulder. 

“Me too, sis.” Mrs. Han agrees, gesturing over to her son. “My Jisung here’s been going on dates with strangers online before this so I’m glad he’s finally stopped and settled for your kid! Modern love, huh?” 

“Oh my God, mom!” Jisung whines, his free hand coming up to his face in embarrassment. “I’ve told you before, I use them to meet friends! Not in front of Mrs. Y/L/N and Y/N please!” 

“Ay, it’s the same thing!” His mom insists to him before turning to Mrs. Hwang and your mom. “Social apps, dating apps, they’re all the same. Why do you even use them if you’re just going to fall in love with the person right in front of you? I taught you better than that, Sungie.” 

“Mom!” Jisung hisses, cheeks tinted pink. “This is so embarrassing!” 

You snicker next to him, catching his attention. “Your mom’s right, you know. Tsk, dating people from miles away and you just end up confessing to me on FaceTime.” 

He scowls at you in a way that scolds you for suddenly turning this situation in your favor. You only smile triumphantly at him which the three aunties take as a really sweet moment. 

“Aw, look at them! So cute!” Mrs. Hwang gushes before turning to her two best friends. “Should we just leave them alone now? We’re intruding!” 

“Right! It’s especially embarrassing since we’re both here, Mrs. Han.” Your mom agrees, leading the three out now. She then turns to you and Jisung, “I guess we’ll be off now, then? Don’t want to intrude to you two lovebirds anymore!” 

You smile up to your mom, making sure Jisung does too. “It’s fine, mom, we’re going back to our table now too, anyway.”

But Mrs. Han waves her hand dismissively at you. “No, no, we’ll run along now first! See you later, okay?” 

You and Jisung bid your moms and Mrs. Hwang goodbye, overhearing your mom bragging that she’ll share this new information to Mrs. Park while Mrs. Han and Mrs. Hwang agree before the three completely exited the kitchen. 

Once they’re out of earshot, you sigh in relief and elbow Jisung harshly who responds by dramatically taking a step back and massaging his side. “Ow!” He winces, careful not to hit the dessert table. “What was that for?” 

“I told you to drop the fake dating thing a while back.” You protest, threatening to hit him with your plate of chocolate slices. “Now I have to have you at home more often. I’ve already had enough of you at campus, here, and when your mom visits at home.”

“Ya, but you played along!” 

“That’s because I was put on the spot! And they did mention another blind date from Mrs. Park’s army of nephews.” You explain. “It was between you and another blind date.”

“At least I got you out of another potential blind date, right?” He points out defensively, proceeding to put your hand with the chocolate slices down on the table with caution. “And more effectively now than before, too! So why’d you hit me?”

“Yeah, I know but still, that doesn’t cancel out how you got me out of that.” You frown in disappointment, taking both of your dessert plates now. When he holds his hand up defensively, as if expecting you to throw them to his face, you only roll your eyes and walk past him to the direction of the second kitchen exit. “Now, I have to fake date you for real either until Mrs. Park lays off the blind dates or until I actually date someone.” 

Jisung immediately follows you suit, genuinely rubbing the nape of his neck in a bashful way now. “We don’t have to, maybe they’ll forget about it.” But when you give him a pointed look, as if suggesting that what he just said seems unlikely, he ends up suggesting, “Okay, fine, should we break up after Chan’s wedding, then?”

He then glances over at you to see you contemplating and calming yourself down so he instinctively insists on carrying the dessert plates for you, walking a little bit ahead as well and opening the screen door leading back to the backyard. 

When you’ve made yourself calm down and think more rationally, you firstly point out, “That’s too far away and wouldn’t that be too scandalous? It’s a big event so it could become gossip.” 

Passing the entire length of the backyard now, you receive a few congratulations and questions confirming your relationship from some of your mom’s sorority friends and their husbands, forcing Jisung to hold his thought until you’re not being swarmed again. 

“But if we do it before, it’d be too suspicious since we’d only be dating for less than 6 months.” He counters once the adults have left you alone, glancing ahead and seeing your entire table looking at you with quirked up eyebrows and comically intimidating looks. “Remember when my older brother did that as a joke to the aunties and got caught because they only did it for 3 weeks? They smell fear and deceit, Y/N.”

You sigh in defeat, “Let’s just figure it out later.” With that, you reach your table, setting your plates down and asking, “What did we miss?”

Judging by the way they eye you, your mom has probably told Mrs. Kim who’s gone table to table. 

“It’s fake, isn’t it?” Ryujin speaks up once you’ve settled back in your seat, making the table break character and laugh. “It can’t be a coincidence since you two were just talking about that a while ago inside!” 

“Please be fake.” Seungmin adds, gesturing to you and Jisung. “It’d be more annoying for all of us next year if it’s true.” 

You and Jisung, having the same thought and trust for your friends, nod simultaneously at Ryujin’s question, eventually joining in on the laughter. 

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you’d actually try that!” Ryujin cackles, a clear giveaway that she and Yeji were eavesdropping on you and Jisung a while back to a degree.

“To be clear, though, it’s his fault!” You add in between laughs for clarification, pointing to Jisung with your dessert spoon. “He started it!” 

“And they were about to get set up on a blind date by Mrs. Park again.” Jisung gestures to you back, completing the thought. “I was being a good Samaritan.”

“Ooh, and what did they say?” Felix asks curiously, one elbow propped up on the table as he listens intently. 

Jisung groans in exasperation as he eats his chocolate cake. “We bumped into my mom, Y/N’s mom, and Mrs. Hwang so you can imagine how they reacted.” 

“I can imagine, especially our mom.” Hyunjin sighs with his hands carding through his hair in secondhand embarrassment. 

“At least now we know where you inherited certain qualities from.” Chan teases, making the younger boy exclaim ‘ya!’ at him. 

“This is good, though isn’t it?” Yeji asks curiously over her iced tea. “I mean, Mrs. Park’s wouldn’t set you up on blind dates now.”

“Yeah, but that leaves me as Ms. Park’s only target!” Ryujin moans in frustration. “You know Mrs. Park doesn’t get convinced with dating people online!” 

You shake your head at Ryujin’s complaint. “Yeji can fake date you, though.” You point out, much to the girl’s annoyance. “Or ask out that girl from our lab.”

“So, does this mean we’re getting a dramatic break-up at Chan and Miyoung’s wedding?” Hyunjin interjects, having moved from playing with his now long hair to his glass of champagne. “Because if so, then you better tell us now so we won’t get too drunk at the reception until it happens!”

“I honestly want to see that happen too.” Seungmin agrees, the two high-fiving at the thought.

“That’d be interesting, breaking up at weddings.” Minho chuckles along now too. “People usually propose or hook-up so this is new.” 

“Hey, no stealing my spotlight on my wedding!” Miyoung complains playfully to you and Jisung this time. “We’re all supposed to have a good time there!”

Chan nods in agreement. “If you break up at our wedding, you’re getting kicked out.” 

So you shake your head reassuringly in between eating cupcakes. “We aren’t planning to.” 

“You’re going to date for real?” Felix asks teasingly, earning him a glare form you.

“Gross, no.” You and Jisung turn down the thought in chorus.

“Jinx.” Jisung adds, stealing a spoonful of cake from your plate.

“So when are you breaking up?” Chan asks, leading the whole round table to look back to you. 

“Whenever, I guess.” You shrug casually, belatedly swatting Jisung’s hand from your plate this time. “Until Mrs. Park gets off my back and Jisung actually stops fucking around on Bumble.” 

“I don’t fuck around on Bumble!” Jisung complains over a mouthful of chocolate cake.

“Well, that’s going to take a long time.” Chan dismisses. “At least let us all know so we can schedule faking a whole drama in this group.” 

“Anyway, it’ll die down soon, surely.” Jisung assures with a half-shrug. “Also, our parents only meet up constantly during this reunion party. If anything, we just have to fake date in front of our moms since they meet up more often.” 

“And Mrs. Hwang.” You point to Hyunjin and Yeji. “Since we all go to brunch once a month.” 

At the mention of the monthly brunch, Yeji’s eyes widen. “Does that mean Jisung has to be at our monthly brunch?!” 

“Oh, ew!” Hyunjin adds in disgust. “I’ve had enough seeing you at campus already!” 

“Why does everyone keep saying that?!” Jisung exclaims back in complain. “I doubt I’d get invited to that, we’re supposed to be dating not getting married!” 

Jisung turns to you expectantly, sighing in relief when you say, “That seems unlikely, it’s my mom and Mrs. Hwang’s thing, anyway. It’s not the Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner brunch.” 

“It better be!” Hyunjin says with crossed arms. “Hopefully our moms don’t get that kind of idea.”

You quietly agree. Having Jisung on your monthly brunch with the Hwangs would just cause so much trouble and cement him in your mom’s good graces—but as your boyfriend, this time.

That’s probably not good. 

The party officially ends some time around 3 AM, when most of the parents with elementary school children have gone home hours earlier and, besides the Kims, it’s just your family, the Hwangs, the Hans, Chan, and Miyoung left at the front gates, bidding each other goodnight.  

“Thank you for having us again, Mrs. Kim.” You bid Seungmin’s family last since they’re the hosts, bowing politely to Seungmin’s parents before giving Seungmin a high-five. 

“See you after break.” Seungmin greets you after your high-five. “Have fun in Japan.” 

“And you enjoy your trip to New York.” You reply with an enthusiastic smile. “I do hope your mom reconsiders staying longer so you can spend the New Year there.” 

He nods with a sigh, “Yeah, I know. Still, I’ll try my best to convince her.” 

Your mom then approaches the two of you, bidding Seungmin and his parents goodnight before taking you away by the arm then turning you towards the direction of Jisung and his family. “Goodnight, Seungmin, Mr. and Mrs. Kim!” She smiles warmly to them before turning to you. “Y/N, aren’t you going to say goodnight to Jisung?” 

“I already did.” 

“Ah, but go to him anyway! Your dad still has to start the car.” 

You groan internally. After a whole night of drinking, singing, and gossiping with her friends, you’d think that she would’ve forgotten about earlier. 

Yet you oblige anyway, excusing yourself from your parents and approaching Jisung whose parents are busy having last-minute small talk with Chan and Miyoung, probably endorsing their chain of hotels as early as now for the wedding. 

“Hey, ugly.” You greet him casually as you approach, both your parents out of earshot so the old nickname naturally comes out. At this, Jisung immediately turns from scrolling through his phone to looking up at you with wide eyes. “My mom didn’t see us say goodnight a while ago so I’m here.” 

“Oh,” He muses, eyes flitting to your mom behind you once. When he sees her glancing expectantly, he turns to you and suggests, “Should we hug?” 

“Yeah, I guess.” You sigh, going straight into his extended arms. “‘Night.” 

“’Night, baby.” Jisung hums gently, too sleepy now to throw more witty comebacks besides the cheesy pet name that originally got you in trouble tonight. “See you after the break.” 

“No, see you on our moms’ next shopping spree.” You correct firmly, pulling away from his warmth before you could accidentally fall asleep on him. “Since we’re ‘dating’ now, you’re morally obligated to attend shopping bag duty now, too.” 

This makes Jisung sigh in defeat, “Fine, fair enough. See you on our moms’ next shopping spree, then.” He pauses for a moment then asks, “The day after New Year, right?”  

“Yeah.” You confirm with a nod when you catch him pouting, “You started this so don’t pout now.” 

“I know, I’m regretting it now.” He rolls his eyes with a scoff, only making you chuckle. “I suppose it’s different when we hang out as friends and when our moms think we’re dating.”

You continue laughing anyway until a thought crosses your mind and softens your gaze up at Jisung. “Anyway, thanks for saving me from another date—I almost forgot. The means is still annoying but I have to appreciate it somehow, right?” 

This time, it’s him chuckling, “Now you appreciate my efforts. See, I told you, something good comes up with this.” 

“Whatever.” You dismiss before you hear your mom calling for you as your dad pulls up in front of the Kim’s gates. “Okay, that’s me. Bye, ugly!” 

“Hm, bye!” With a final wave, Jisung then sees you off before joining his parents who he didn’t even realize have already gone to their car. 

Seating himself at the backseat of his mom’s car a moment later, Jisung accidentally glances over to his mom from the rear view mirror only to see her wiggling her eyebrows at him. 

“So,” Mrs. Han says. “you and Y/N.”

“Yeah?” Jisung response with a questioning tone. “Me and Y/N, what about it?” 

Mrs. Han only shrugs from the driver’s seat as she now drives away from the Kim’s house. “Nothing, you’re just both really cute.” She comments casually with a proud smile. “I like it. Though it is too bad we can’t invite them to dinner since they’re going to Japan for Christmas this year.” 

“How about next year?” Jisung’s dad suggests. “We can go on one of our hotels abroad.” 

“Ah, but—” Jisung stammers, only to be interrupted by his dad again.     

“Or, honey, when you and Mrs. Y/L/N go to the mall again.” Mr. Han quickly quips in to Mrs. Han before turning to their son in the back seat. “I expect you’d stop bailing on your mom when she goes to the mall now since Y/N’s always at these shopping trips.” 

At this, Jisung shakes his head, “I won’t. I’m ‘morally obligated’ now, apparently.”

“That’s good.” Mr. Han says, turning back to the road ahead and relaxing into the front passenger seat. “You better.”

Jisung sleepily props his elbow up by the window and sighs, letting his parents enjoy this new prospect of him seriously dating someone now. “Yup.” He ends the conversation, closing his eyes and getting a few minutes of sleep before arriving back home. 

Suddenly, this is probably not a good idea—lying to his already hyped parents. 

ch. 2 // ch. 3 // series masterlist

tag: @t-toodumbtocare​ @sandaigdigan-reads​ @pwarkhans​ @ruellelix @malai-barfi @mahalau​ @milkywayfelix @qweens-stuff​

#stayverse #districtninewriters #inkidz #stayhavennet #skzwriternet #stray kids #skz #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids au #stray kids oneshots #stray kids drabbles #stray kids series #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz au #skz oneshots #skz drabbles #skz series #jisung #stray kids jisung #skz jisung #han jisung #jisung imagines #jisung scenarios #jisung au #jisung oneshots #jisung drabbles #jisung series

[anika-ann]

Attached: Hurtful Words Pt.1

Type: (mini)-series,  Modern-college-professor AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 5600

Summary:  Stick and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.

You knew for a fact that it was a load of BS. The truth is that words can break your heart. And that realization hits you full force the day you have your last exam to earn your bachelor degree.

If you pass, it will be a cause for great celebration. Spoiler alert: it’s not.

A/N: Attached: Hurtful Words is an addition that loosely followes the series. Will be in two (or three) parts. You don’t necessarily need to read the mini-series as a whole, but you will understand much better.

Warnings: I did something in here which I’m usually trying to avoid at any cost; in this story, I used Y/N Y/L/N. Does that count as a warning? 

Warnings II: name calling, humiliation, panic attack!, bad poetry, mentions of vomiting and  alcohol, the briefest mention of self-harm, angst, swearing, threats of violence

Story masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

You released the breath you had been holding, all your willpower put into not sinking into the chair in relief as Professor Phillips announced your grade – one that meant that you hadn’t failed.

In fact, you had just passed your last exam of your bachelor program so you were entirely in the right. In your head, an overexcited monkey started playing cymbals and you didn’t mind the noise despite how sleep-deprived you were from the past few days. A barely contained mad smile fought its way to your lips instead.

Mind you, as you thanked Professor Phillips and rose to your feet – your knees almost giving out, because HOLY SHIT YOU JUST GOT YOUR BACHELOR’S – you would swear you saw a brief smile on the professor’s face too as if he was amused at your antics.

But who cared if he was having fun at your expense?! You PASSED! You had been losing sleep, terrified of this exam, because everyone knew Phillips was a hard-ass – a fair one, but still a hard-ass – and you just passed his examination!

Time to pop the fucking champagne! The one Penny had been saving at the dorm from yesterday when she had finished her own degree; she insisted that she would wait for you, because you were in this together.

You couldn’t leave her waiting any longer and you didn’t have any intention to do so.

Leaving the room and walking into the empty hallway – because of course you came the last as if to prolong your torture – you breathed in and out and deliberately let the grin finally spread on your face fully.

You were free, you were ready to take on the world despite not being ready at all and you had Steve, who you suspected would be proud as hell and would celebrate with you tomorrow, graciously letting you and your roomie do it first-- and gosh, life was beautiful.

Making your way down the corridor, with a grin ever-present, a leaflet that hadn’t been there before caught your attention. It appeared a handwritten note, styled in a regular column – a poem perhaps.

Still smiling, the curiosity took the best of you and you walked to it, peripherally noticing that along the walls, there was even more.

You froze in your step when your gaze fell on the first line; your very own name was staring back at you and it confused you at first, a brief surge of excitement lighting up your body, a naïve belief that perhaps Steve somehow decided to surprise you.

But Steve’s last name came next, which you found strange.

And then came the word ‘whore’ and your heart stopped, your gaze automatically flickering all over the page.

Your stomach made a painful somersault, your mind turning blank.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of that nightmare materializing in front of you, reading and re-reading the poem that almost resembled a twisted nursery rhyme over and over.

Y/N Y/L/N Rogers’ whore Bet she’ll get The highest score For sucking dick Having fucked her ass Let’s hope she’ll soon Be eating grass

Darkness battled to cut off your vision, the world swaying off of its place. Involuntarily, your trembling hand reached out and touched the paper, smooth under your fingertips, your frantically beating heart and the vertigo threating to overpower your sense of balance tying you to the reality, screaming at you that this wasn’t just a really fucked-up dream.

You tore the paper down, lump growing in your throat as you looked around for watchful eyes in sudden paranoia of being followed, only to find the hallway deserted aside from you.

Just you and many papers hanging on the walls.

As if you were just a puppet to a spiteful master, your feet carried you to the next leaflet, tears filling your eyes as you found the very same words written on it; a precise copy.

Your breathing picked up a furious pace, your chest crushed under a weight of an invisible elephant stomping on it. The corridor swam in the dampness of your eyes, your mind too quiet and yet screaming with millions of question marks and exclamation points, panic squeezing your lungs, nausea attacking your stomach.

What the hell was happening? Who would do that? Why? What was the goal? Was it just to ruin your triumph?

Because if that was the goal, it was a roaring success; the thousands of questions swirling in your head and the unexpected sting in your heart turned the fact that you had passed an exam into a faint memory.

All you saw was the words.

Rogers’s whore

Was that what you were? Was that how people who knew about the relationship saw you? Was that how Steve saw you?

The highest score for sucking dick

Was that what you were doing? Using Steve’s position to your advantage? Was that how you got through every exam including the one today, even if unwittingly? Was that what Phillips’ little smile had been about?

Hope she’ll soon be eating grass.

Was that a threat? Was someone wishing that happened to you or were they actually about to hurt you? Why?!

Hearing your own wheezing and feeling your fingertips prickling, your foggy mind did the only reasonable thing it could come up with; it led your steps into the nearest bathroom at lightning speed with no regard for how shaky were your feet.

You stumbled into the open stall, smashing the door shut and leaning onto them with your suddenly damp forehead, feeling the cold beads of sweat gather in your hairline, your cheeks drenching in tears.

When did you start crying so hard?

When did the trembling in your limbs begin?

What the fuck was happening?

What-how--why-but-

Your palms rested on the door as you desperately tried and failed to ground yourself and take control of your breathing. Your temples were pounding irritatingly, your gut painfully clenching--- and exactly in that moment that could have lasted a second or an hour, your fingers brushed over a piece of paper stuck on the door.

Darkness curled around your brain like a treacherous friend, another wave of nausea twisting your stomach.

It took you one blurry glance at the paper and you knew precisely what it was, choking on your sob, ripping the offensive poem off and tearing it to pieces which you blindly threw to the toilet, the flushing sound deafening to your ears.

Your shaky legs finally gave out, knees buckling, your body sliding down the stall wall, fingers pulling at your hair as you felt the dizziness engulfing your head, a bitter taste in your mouth.

You gripped tighter, hoping that the pain on the surface would overpower the pain and gaping hole inside, as another violent sob erupted from your throat.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

An eternity later, you felt your whole being float.

Your breathing was still frantic and interrupted with sobs, but a sensation resembling serenity spread in your very core—or perhaps it was just numbness?

You couldn’t seem to be able to tell the difference anymore.

The creak of a door made you cover your mouth to muffle the noises still escaping your lips for the fear of being caught – either being found in this state in general or found as in found by the person who wrote---that – being stronger than the subdued power of your previous breakdown.

It was probably too late for the newcomer to miss your presence, but over the slowly fading ringing in your ears, you could hear a few steps that came to a halt and then they sounded a bit quicker as the woman left.

Thank FUCK. You couldn’t do human interaction of any kind right now.

You removed your hand and breathed out shakily, blinking away the tears.

Shaking your head wildly, you gritted your teeth in a feeble attempt at bolster yourself. You had to get up off your ass and leave before there would be no longer way of avoiding a confrontation – god forbid a confrontation with Steve, who was probably still in a class, testing his own students.

You climbed to your feet, wiping the remains of your tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand and went to fix your ruined make-up, hopefully enough to look little less suspicious when walking through the campus.

It was probably a vain effort, because you were a walking epitome of a mess.

Rogers’s whore, sounded in your ears and you shook your head again, inhaling sharply through your mouth.

It was time to run and then break down again at the dorms. With Penny preferably--or did she think you were a whore too? You were fucking a professor after all-

Stop that!

Penny wasn’t like that. She understood. She’d be willing to listen all about this outrageous act of terror and would sympathize. Right?

Yeah, you’d talk about it with Penny, your amazing friend, who needed a celebration and a very generous amount of alcohol, which happened to be exactly what you needed too.

Yep, that sounded pretty good.

With one last determined glance on your horrible reflection in the mirror, you headed out.

The door nearly hit you in the face on its way back as you threw it open and froze in the doorway.

You did not expect to see someone so soon after leaving your improvised safe space… let alone him.

“Prof-professor Wilson,” you choked out, clearing your scratchy throat as he stood there, unmistakably waiting for you.

Because that was what you needed at the moment. The university counsellor and professor of psychology in one person.

Fuck.

He said you name in a mild tone, almost as if trying to tame a wild animal, but not quite – all his voice made you feel was shame at getting caught. And a bit of anger at the whole fucking world, because why couldn’t you have a tiny piece of peace after seeing that? Just a little shred of luck, huh?!

Oh, right, you were a whore who were only using Professor Rogers, paying for it in sexual favours.

“Mind if we talk in my office for a bit?”

“Not like I really have a choice…” you mumbled automatically, the realization of how rude it sounded dawning to you oh too slowly, your brain too tangled up in a web of self-pity and self-loathing. “Sorry. Of course. Lead the way.”

“Good. Thank you,” he replied, appearing unoffended. “And for the record, you do have a choice.”

Hadn’t you been a wreck with burning tear-stained cheeks, your face might have felt hotter at the kind remark.

At the slowest pace possible, you followed Professor Wilson to his office, dread and exhaustion filling every fibre of your being.

You noticed however that the walls that had been lined with odes about you, put up for everyone to see, had disappeared; possibly Wilson’s own work.

Somehow, it didn’t make you feel much better, the image of the previous addition to the corridors’ decor stuck in your brain. But hey, it was supposed to be the thought that counted, right?

And Professor Wilson was a nice guy. He offered you a drink – sadly a non-alcoholic one – attempted a joke saying that no, it was no trouble getting you one, which was the reason he offered.

Generally, he treated you as if he wanted to provide you with a safe space.

And then he kindly told you that he knew about the poem, because his cousin who’s in her first year here at the uni, texted him what the heck was the e-mail she received on her uni account about.

In other word, he gently broke to you that whoever had done this possibly sent it to every student in the database too.

You nearly threw up hearing that; the pit you had climbed up from and of which edge you were balancing, deepened. But you didn’t fall back there.

Yet.

It was probably because you were still too shocked at the information.

“I hate asking that question, but do you have any idea who did this?” Wilson asked quietly and you had nothing but a helpless shake of a head for a reply. You felt your vision blurring, dizziness fogging your brain again. “Can you think of anyone who holds a grudge against you for some reason?”

A scoff escaped your lips, cynical as you found the answer obvious from the verses.

“Besides dating Steve, you mean?” you noted sarcastically. Wilson waited for more, his eyebrows twitching in surprise and expectation before he got it under control. “Sorry, I meant Professor Rog-“

“Hey, you can call him Steve,” he assured you, so damn sweet and diligent. “I met him, you know, I’d go as far as calling him a friend. And right here, right now, he is not your professor, but your boyfriend. I’m talking to you as a counsellor so feel free to call me Sam if you’re comfortable. And to answer your question, I assume that it is as good motive as any, but the fact that the two of you are dating is practically a public knowledge at this point, so it doesn’t really narrow our field of suspects.”

Despite his openness and kind approach, you once again could only shrug, growing desperate by the minute. The urge to leave – because suddenly it made even more sense, him taking you here, he was friends with Steve, he was stalling – became unbearable.

You didn’t have the strength to see Steve now. You couldn’t. You would question every gesture, analyse everything and perhaps came to the conclusion that he agreed with the author of the poem and you desperately didn’t want that. You needed to forget about this, preferably with an unhealthy amount of alcohol, you needed to cry some more, you needed ice-cream and a hug and to bitch about everything and you needed a fucking nap that would last at least a week.

“I don’t know who hates me that much, I swear. Can I please go now?”

Sam cocked his head to side, a minute frown creasing his brows. “Is that what you want?”

Do you really want to leave before Steve gets a chance to get here?

You should probably feel guilty. You wanted to feel guilty, because that was you being a coward and it was downright mean to Steve, who would no doubt learn about this very soon and from someone else, but you didn’t have the capacity to think about anything at all besides feeling like you were going to explode any second.

“Yes. Thanks for being nice and all, but I—I’d rather go.”

“You have a roommate? A friend you live with and who’s in?” he fussed, voice gravely, amiable chocolate eyes observing you with worry. Did he think you were about to hurt yourself? Did you look like the type? Were you? You mentally shook your head. Jesus.

“Yeah,” you creaked, already rising to your feet, endlessly grateful that he was letting you go. “Penny. We— uhm, we were supposed to go celebrating.”

You nearly choked on the last word, feeling like everything but going out tonight. The idea of going out and facing all the stares cause by the widely-spread e-mail made your stomach clench.

You kinda lost the appetite to celebrate anything to begin with; all the relief and joy, which had filled every last bit of your being post-learning your grade, vanished and was replaced by a dark sticky substance filling your lungs, your gut, your veins, muffling the outside world.

Perhaps Penny would agree to a loud night in?

“You can still do that, that’s up to you. But please, get some sleep and don’t be alone. Here,” he stood up as well, handing you a card. “My number, even if you just need to talk to a sort-of outsider and word-vomit all over someone, okay?”

You couldn’t argue with his offer – you had a feeling you’d vomit soon, either verbally or literally. Still, you charmed a shaky smile that probably turned out a grimace.

“K. Thanks… Sam.”

“Any time.”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Of course, Wilson’s unspoken question about moving quick to avoid an encounter with certain professor was painfully on point.

You bailed on Steve whom you were supposed to wait for even if just for a hug and congratulations, practically running to the dorm, your unsteady feet and tears still clouding your vision be damned.

You ignored the ringing of your phone, assuming it was Steve himself; bile rose to your throat at the idea of hearing his voice at that moment. He tried twice before you smashed the power button and threw the phone back to your purse, breathing out in relief and wanting to puke at the same time.

You truly couldn’t find the capacity to deal with him momentarily – you needed to be alone and safe from any prying eyes, preferably in the comfort of your shared dorm with Penny. You cried harder when you finally reached it, your feet hurting from attempting to run in heels.

It wasn’t hard to figure out that Penny somehow already knew, probably from the e-mail – it was written all over her face. And hadn’t her expression been enough, instead of a celebratory champagne she handed you a shot of a transparent liquid the moment you opened the door.

You turned it bottoms up without questioning it and asked for another. Penny grabbed the bottle of vodka waiting on the shoe rack and poured one for you and one for herself. You didn’t bother clinking the glasses.

Though the burn in your throat felt pleasant, it did nothing to sooth the burn in your eyes and heart. Penny’s embrace made it a bit better.

So did the third shot of vodka.

You didn’t switch on your phone that day again – and when it was nearing midnight, after a four-hour nap, you convinced Penny to go celebrate to the Freddy’s as you had originally planned to do. You pretended that no one stared at you and instead you danced and drank until your mind was swimming enough for the sorrow and anger to drown.

You were one lucky bitch to have Penny walk you home.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰ 

Steve was sitting at his desk at the faculty office he shared with Bucky and was working hard at what he excelled at for these past days despite his genuine efforts at not doing so; getting absolutely nothing done at all.

His hands had grown somewhat unsteady, a reflection of how he was feeling, how torn and absurdly broken he had become. He was spilling drinks on a regular basis, items kept falling from his flimsy hold. His brain felt foggy these days as well, most likely a consequence of the shitty sleep he was getting.

His bed felt too big despite his rather large frame and too cold despite his body temperature usually running almost too high; the sheets smelled strange and foreign despite being his own and the bed screamed with emptiness on a volume that kept interrupting his already deficient sleep.

Four days.

Four days since one stupid poem knocked his world out of its orbit and everything that mattered crashed down. Well, perhaps not everything, Steve happened to like his job too and he still had it, but such detail seemed insignificant; it certainly did in comparison to the fact that he had been attempting and had failed to reach you.

Calls.

Texts.

Few e-mails when he felt particularly helpless and frustrated.

His messed up sleeping and eating schedule and the irregularity that came with the exam period would make a perfect case of him losing any notion of time – yet Steve knew about every second without you, practically counting them.

He could still see Sam Wilson standing outside the classroom he had been testing students’ knowledge in as if it happened yesterday. He could recall with painfully stark clarity the unreadable expression on his face and the ominous “Steve, man… we need to talk.”

Steve still remembered Tony Stark waltzing in the next day with a baby in some sort of a front backpack, agitated that someone had gotten into the database, let alone to send all the hate-emails, and how he announced he found the culprit and their accomplices in an hour, which apparently happened to be too long to his liking.

Steve would smile at the memory of the technical genius’ antics, but the gaping hole in his chest caused by the deafening silence from you prevented it. Hell, not even the vivid picture of Carol Danvers from the faculty of law, moonlighting like a member of the legal department of the university, made the corners of his lips rise.

And hadn’t it been quite a show, a downright uplifting experience.

Steve was watching the screen with a frown, a stone-solid clench to his jaw and a firm clench to his fists.

It was almost amusing really; Bucky kept going about Fury being a creep and not a spy, but despite the lack of a one-way glass, the space Carol and the girl was in – just like two other rooms, each with one man – resembled an interrogation room. Steve never had been more grateful for audio and video feed in his life, but he sure as hell wasn’t laughing in delight at being proved right.

In fact, it had been taking all of his willpower not to burst into those rooms and give a piece of his mind to every single person guilty of being involved in hurting you. In causing his life to collapse on itself.

Steve couldn’t quite recall the brunet Carol was roasting, but he suspected he had seen her in one of the classes he was teaching. She didn’t stand out from the crowd of students and he didn’t see anything special about her worth remembering; then again, he tended to forget to take notice of other pretty faces ever since he had laid his eyes on yours.

And right now, all he saw was a face of a vicious bitch who forced you into pushing him away and a single look at her had his blood boiling.

Steve truly wanted to punch the living daylights of her and that said something, because he prided himself in having moral objection to hitting women, especially from sheer anger.

However, the desire was growing with each piece of information he learned. Because Yvonne Whatever-Is-Her-Name was a piece of work for fucking certain.

She talked a guy number one, whom she was attending Introduction to Social Studies 101 and who had a very apparent teenage-like crush on her, into reaching out to his friend, guy number two, whom he often played some online video game with, into hacking the database, sending the e-mails and finding out when and where exactly your exam was, just so Yvonne herself could redecorate the corridors and bathroom and make sure you wouldn’t miss her work of art.

Carol was alternating between visiting each of the ‘suspects’ and man, did they sing like birds.

Steve wanted to strangle them all, but fuck, the hatred for Yvonne Burton specifically was already consuming him and gnawing at his very soul; yes, he found out her last name just so he knew his mortal enemy. He was going to burn her to the ground, one way or the other… not that Carol hadn’t been doing a fine job so far.

That damn brunet had tears running down her face, sobbing occasionally, but still rarely sassing back. Somehow, seeing her like that wasn’t half as satisfying as Steve hoped, because his mind kept wandering to you and wondering if you looked about the same and every time such picture formed in his head, he hated Ms.Burton a fraction more.

She had used a guy who liked her, which Carol blatantly pointed out. The lawyer didn’t seem to hold back her own snark if the question about how the culprits met – via some forum for bruised ego, was it? – was anything to go by.

“I might be a lawyer, but I’m begging for every art professor and author I know – stay away from poetry. What you wrote is a child’s rhyme really, but like every writing, it says a lot about who you are. And it gives me a plenty of ammunition. We have two names, one full, one last name pointing out a specific person from the context. If I play my cards right, we have defamation on our hands, libel to be precise. Congratulation,” Carol remarked in a surprisingly calm voice. The other woman visibly paled. Good. “And what about the last line? Is that… is that a threat of violence? I can make it harassment, but if I try hard enough, perhaps we can consider it something more serious…?”

“You don’t get to threaten me! You’re lying! I’ve done nothing wrong and so serious!” the girl – and really, in Steve’s eyes, she was nothing but a stupid girl who somehow managed to kick his life in its balls – exploded, jumping to her feet.

Carol levelled her with a glare and an irritated hiss. “Sit down.” Burton did, clammy hands curled up in trembling fists. “And you’ve done more than enough.”

“You don’t understand!”

“Oh don’t I? Be my guest then. Explain it. Your motivation, the legal side, anything. I’m all ears.”

“I love him!” the girl exclaimed and Steve grinded his teeth as a surge of rage shooting through his veins.

Like fucking hell she did. He didn’t remember even talking to her if he ever had to start with and she loved him?!

Was that really what this was about? This girl somewhat liked him and got obsessed? Decided to wreck his girlfriend? To what end? To drive the two of you apart? To make you hate him so he would run to her? To simply ruin your future? What the fuck was wrong with her?! She was a damn kid with hurt pride and zero efforts put in so far, because he couldn’t even remember her-

“Oh you really don’t. If you did, you wouldn’t have done this,” Carol responded with a cold edge to her voice, apparently agreeing with Steve’s thoughts and being equally unimpressed with Ms.Burton dramatic confession.

“I’m fighting for him! Ain’t nothing wrong-”

Oh Steve would argue with that so hard. He could feel Sam watching him from the corner of his eye, but neither of them said anything as Steve gripped the edge of the table the monitors were on.

He was sure he was going to be sick, the edge of his vision doing something he only read about; as if truly turning red, crimson with hunger for blood. He never ever craved tearing someone in half, not a single one of the guys who bullied him in school, not the girls that laughed at him when he said he liked them; and make no mistake, he had always felt mad enough.

But right now, he tasted undiluted rage and it tasted like acid with a bitter aftertaste of iron and copper, searing hot on his tongue and spreading through his body, turning it heavy and nauseatingly light at the same time.

“No, you’re ruining his life,” Carol emphasized, leaning onto the table and glaring murder at the girl. “If this is your idea of fighting for someone, it’s pretty twisted. You could have done literally anything to make him notice you, hell, pick you, but leave if he still said no, because that’s a sensible thing to do. But instead, you hurt someone he cared about. And that means you hurt him too – not to mention that his name is in there, possibly putting a scrap on his reputation. If you did love him, you’d want him to be happy.”

Steve gulped and looked away, unable to bear the weight of Carol’s words, feeling the jab on his own person. Because he was familiar with being accused of ruining someone’s life and future despite seemingly loving them. God knew that on a rainy day, he wondered about his own ‘love’ and its purity too – and now, it was fucking pouring and Steve had been forced to question everything he knew.

Was this little brunet Satan a godsend in fact? Was she supposed to tell him to stop lying to himself about not being your doom? Just what kind of a mess this stunt would have made had you been working a steady job and this got to your employer?

A gentle hand reached for his shoulder, a silent support, and Steve found himself torn between irritated, grateful and deeply ashamed.

No matter how much he hated it, he should be on the list to get punched for hurting you too.

“So, sorry to break it to you, but you don’t love him,” Carol continued and with Sam’s palm on his shoulder, Steve forced himself to watch the scene, the grand finale. “You’re just a little girl with attitude issues, a crush that got out of hand, and a ton of luck for knowing a guy willing to help you. Guess what – you just ran out of that luck.”

Heavy silence fell on the interrogation room and Steve’s eyes slid shut, hearing Carol and Yvonne’s parting words.

“And just so you know, she didn’t get the highest score. She got a B.”

Steve didn’t even know that and despite all the shit they were in, he felt a surge of pride for his g- hopefully still his girl.

At the same time, the fact that he learned it from Carol and not from you as he still couldn’t reach you, felt like a punch to his solar plexus.

Carol entered the monitoring room with a discontent expression on her face, wordlessly telling Steve and Sam that the conversation, no matter how harsh, wasn’t satisfying enough.

Still, Steve glanced at her and nodded with severity.

“Thank you, Carol,” he rasped, surprised by how hoarse his own voice sounded; for the burn of rage in his stomach and the tension in his muscles, he almost forgot about the lump gradually growing in his throat with each hour of silence from you.

“My damn pleasure,” Carol huffed with slight irritation, one clearly not aimed at Steve. She subtly raised her eyebrows. “I kinda want to punch her, but I guess I’m not the only one, huh?”

Steve sighed and closed his eyes, his hands almost shaking with the said need. Still, it was surprisingly relieving to be called out on that and to learn that he wasn’t the only one. And when he opened his eyes again, the look on Carol’s face told him that she wasn’t blaming him one bit.

“You have no fucking idea, I- Jesus, I never wanted to—to-- so much in my life.“

The rise of one corner of her lips was sympathetic. “We’ll handle this, Steve. I know it’s hard to hear, but you can’t really help us here. Go home. Rest.”

The lump in Steve’s throat grew nearly suffocating at the idea of going to the empty apartment, where his uselessness became even more evident. Steve eyed Sam, searching with hope for any sign of a better advice, but the counsellor only nodded to second Carol’s thought.

“Go home and try to call your girl. She’ll pick up eventually.”

At that time Steve had done exactly that – however, the result had remained identical to those with his previous attempts. You hadn’t picked up and he had left a voicemail and a pathetic text that somehow seemed to be reflecting all of his insecurities and doubts about your relationship and it hadn’t turned out at all as he had planned – and then it had been too late to take it back.

He had sent another and another, almost hour after hour and he was gradually realizing that he was forgoing all hope and his faith in what you two had and what it could become in the future; and god, did he want the future so badly.

But he couldn’t always get what he wanted, could he? He thought that a miracle had happened when he had first met you and later heard your yes to the date. But here you were.

Four days from that terrible incident.

Did Steve even believe that you two were supposed to be together? He didn’t even know anymore. Perhaps it was an intervention from some higher power and you two breaking apart was meant to be, saving you a heartbreak and disillusions which were about to come later.

He squeezed his eyes shut at the thought and the sensation that felt like a punch to his gut, his insides cramping.

That was not true. You two loved each other. You had found something truly amazing in each other and you were about to reach out to him any minute so you could continue to your brighter future together.

…right?

Except a minute passed by and nothing happened, the phone Steve was toying with remaining silent.

No received text or e-mail.

No incoming call.

Another minute and then another ten, the phone still spinning in his hand in almost a reflex at that point and still not lighting up.

The knot in Steve’s gut turned tighter and tighter, the tension in his shoulders and jaw growing, his mantra of you surely contacting him gradually falling silent.

Finally, he came to the decision that only fools kept doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different result.

He was supposed to do that a long long time ago, the moment he had convinced himself that coming knocking on your dorm could be considered harassment… and would break his heart in case you’d shut the door to his face telling him you were done with him.

Biting the inside of his cheek, Steve swept through his contacts and dialled your best friend and roommate in one person.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Part 2

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Thank you for reading!

Let me know what you thought! I’m pretty sure this is the first time I’ doing something with randomly timed shots to a series, so… you know. I’m a bit nervous. And I guess that this is very different from what this series was so far too, so I hope it’s okay. Thank you :-*

#marvel #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #professor steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #college au #professor au #modern au #steve rogers x you #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #steve rogers #bucky barnes #captain america #mcu #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #au #captain america au #attached #anika ann

[blu-archer]

Mr. Park’s return

So, I’m not sure what to make of this really... like it’s not really a sickfic thing - I don’t know.. it might be, I’ll just say it classifies, it’s more of like a little continuation bit in this series and because I felt like writing about it... I’ve had this sitting with me for a while, so I may as well post it.. it felt a bit everywhere, there’s some knew characters I just tossed in because I needed too and we’ll just see where that leads, yeah? 

[there is probably grammatical errors, my first language is English I just can’t proof read - its a rough life] anyway, I hope this is somewhat enjoyable, its kind of a mess

This is supposed to be just a small filler type thing I guess

Snz based but like its rather mild.

‘Sickie’ : Jimin / [Felix? its faint really]/ [Yoongi is mentioned, but yeah]

 Hybrid AU

 Part 1,  Part 2 , Part 3

Word count: 5376

I tossed some Stray Kids in here because I love them too. 

“Good morning everyone.” Jimin smiled at the class of juniors settling in their seats as warmly as he could considering that he was still trying to recover from days of fever. He still felt tired and a weak, with some lingering symptoms, but he was tired staying at home doing nothing.  He needed to work again, get back into a routine so that he wasn’t lazing around all the time. So, he had suited up in warm clothes and more makeup than usual to hide the dark rings that had still not left him.

The class stared at him with a mix of confusion and curiosity before greeting him with about the same enthusiasm he had done to them. He supposed that was fair, it wasn’t like they knew who he was really.

He cleared his throat, dropping the exam booklets onto the desk set up in the front of the room, before continuing on with as much forced giddiness as he could manage. No one wanted to head into an exam with a dark unwelcoming mood, so if he could brighten it by even an inch then he would be happy.

 “I’m Mr. Park, I’ll be your teacher for this exam.” As if to serve as a reminder, something caught in his throat and he smothered a small bout of coughs into his arm. “Please excuse my voice, I’ve been a little under the weather.”

It didn’t take long before a few voices rose up, which was not surprising considering majority of the class had probably never seen him before. it had become blatantly obvious that most of the students had wanted to spend much more attention on their paper. He didn’t blame them, anyone would want to be distracted from exams and he usually wouldn’t mind, he loved to gossip and get to know the students and they always seemed to be as interested in him as he was in what they were like, but even with the amount of lozenges he’d sucked on that morning already, his voice was definitely going to give out if he spoke for long.

 “What do you teach Sir?”

“You look so young.”

“Mr. Park! What are you doing here?”

“Are you new?”

“What type of Hybrid are you?”

 Jimin looked to students who had spoken up. Most dressed or styled slightly different from the standard uniform, clearly these were the usual extrovert favourites. He tried to ignore the more intrusive questions and focus more on the ones of innocent curiosity. A wide grin split across his face and his sight narrowed as he recognised one girl that he taught in modern contemporary. Jimin pressed his square framed glasses further up his nose, his tail flicking as the girl waved her arm wildly from the back of the class.

 “Sana? Oh, it’s weird seeing you out of class.” Jimin chuckled lightly, giving a small wave in return. “Most of you probably won’t know me, but I’ve been a part of the dance faculty for I think about three years now. I usually only interacted in the other art departments during these times, but this year the school thought it would be better to shift things around a bit. I think I only know Sana… oh wait, Soobin’s here too. Wow, it feels like forever since I’ve seen you two…” His chest warmed with the pleasure of seeing at least some of his kids.

 “Sir, what are you doing back?” Soobin grinned and leant forward from when he sat on top of his friends desk. “Mr. Jung said that you probably wouldn’t be back for at least another week.”

 “Not quite.” Jimin corrected, moving closer to his student. “It’s just not as heavy a work-load as usual. Are you ready for your exams? And you Sana? I feel so bad for not being there in your final sessions.”

 “I think we’re both glad that you rested rather than pushed to be there with us.” Sana grinned, packing away her English textbooks. “I haven’t done mine yet but Soobin had his exam yesterday.”

Jimin’s eyes shot to the boy who merely shrugged, although the bright flash in the fae boys eyes led Jimin to believe he did better than he wanted to portray. Which was good. Great, actually. His students were amazing.

 “Ahhh… why do I get the feeling that none of you did any real dancing while I was away… Anyway, don’t stress over it. Deep breathes and smooth lines. It’s nothing you haven’t done before.” Jimin countered to Sana before stepping back to address the class once again, coughing into his arm again – slightly harsher this time. He answered and entertained a few more questions from the students that he didn’t know before finally calling it. “Okay, we should probably start soon. May everyone please start packing away any studying material. And is everyone present for this exam?”

 “Mr. Park, Sir.” A trio of girls, each with unique traits that led him to believe they were all either warlocks or fae, waved to him from the side of the class closest to the wall of windows.

 “Yes?”

 “So, you’re a dancer, Mr. Park? Can you show us something?” The one with golden eyes smirked and Jimin’s chest tightened, knowing that her suggestive tone wasn’t one of humour or general curiosity. Kids. They were kids.

 “I am, but we have more important things.” He chose to ignore the low whining that erupted from them. “Clear your desks please, you don’t seem to be going over notes anyway. I am assuming that everyone is here, which means we are going to begin.”

   He returned to the desk without glancing at the girls again. The session had officially started.

Once desks were clear he began to hand out transcripts, only letting them turn through the pages once each student had one. It was a bit of a struggle, with how hoarse his voice was quickly becoming – given that he hadn’t needed to use it as much in the past few days as he was now, but he managed to read through the paper with them to make sure there were no immediate errors then set them forth on the 3-hour paper. Even though it made him drowsy he snuck a few pills in after he stifled a sneeze into his wrist. He wanted to try keep any and all symptoms to a minimum as to not distract anyone, but it was difficult when the class only had the scribbling sound of pens on paper to fill it with noise.

He sipped the tea from his flask that he was certain Yoongi had spiked with some type of herbal energy booster before Jimin had left that morning. The hybrid couldn’t help the wholesome warmth that ran through him at the thought of the worrisome warlock. Despite Yoongi being powerful and often intimidating to those who didn’t know him, Jimin knew that the elder was in-fact a big softy that was usually too shy to address things that  stressed him out. Especially if it was about the people he cared for. Instead he was prone to small actions that he thought would help lift any burdens or stressors, for both him and whoever he helped – in this case, Jimin. Yoongi hadn’t even wanted him to start at the school again yet, even for short hours, but after the hybrid had spoken some sense into him – that it was Jimin’s job and everyone, including Yoongi himself, had  worked while sick at some point – Yoongi eventually caved.

Although that didn’t stop him from being a bit clingier than usual, and definitely didn’t stop him from wrapping Jimin entirely in the Warlocks clothes so that his scent was with him all day. Not that Jimin minded being completed drenched in the elders scent and the clothes that were just a bit too big for him always made him feel warm and comforted. The last week that Jimin had spent at home with his boyfriend had been amazing, even if he had been a miserable mess for most of it.

Jimin had just finished firing off emails to the other dance staff members about how everything was going with the dance exams and if there are still students looking for last minute help when he felt the sad realisation that his med’s had been easing off. He hadn’t brought enough for a second dose and he could already feel his nose starting to run. The exam was almost over, just another hour or so and then he was free to be a mess again. But that wasn’t what his body had in mind.

He’inxshew… hih..Hieshxngt hXNGst..

 Damn it.

Jimin sniffed and wiped at his nose with a tissue. Thankfully he had thought to bring quite a few of the tissue travel packs with him, Yoongi had tried to slip an entire box of Kleenex into Jimin’s bag but the hybrid found that to be a bit excessive. His tail curled around his waist as he felt the gazes of a few of the students that were already finished or were checking through their work, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He sniffed repeatedly, trying to be as soft and quiet as possible but it only seemed to make matters worse as he snapped forward with another sneeze that he caught by pinching at his nose. Stifling was a bit painful, especially with how congested he had been, but he would bear with it.

He stifled four more before he had to come to terms with the fact that he could not try to sniffle to keep it at bay anymore. So he claimed fresh tissues to blow his nose, wincing and sending apologetic eyes to the students at the wet gurgling sound that filled the room. Jimin’s face was heated and he swallowed hard trying to work past his embarrassment. The students probably didn’t even care that much. But he still felt like the floor should open to let him fall through it.

He perked as a hand shot up, the student mouthing for more paper. Jimin threw away his tissues, doing his best to ignore how gross he was momentarily felt, and after a quick squirt his trusty hand sanitiser that Jin made him carry,  he was up and handing out pages. Taking that moment of already being up to slowly walk around and check if anyone else needing anything from him. He tried not to linger too much when he noticed Soobin gnawing at his bottom lip. A quick glance and Jimin could tell that the boy was struggling with understanding some of the things being asked of him and he didn’t want to add any extra pressure of being hovered over. Clearly the boy was unfortunately – in this case - closer inclined to the creative arts than he was to general studies.

 “Si-Sir?”

 Jimin followed the soft whisper to a thin, pale dog hybrid who looked anxious just to have to look Jimin in the eye. Jimin cleared his throat to try get rid of the insistent itch that seemed to plague him and leant down so that the boy wouldn’t have to look up at him when he spoke. It wasn’t often that someone reacted intimidated by Jimin, so he was left a bit unsure. The few handfuls of times that he could remember being anything close to scary were strictly associated with his dancers or the few times he got into arguments with his friends, but usually everyone saw him as a soft and gentle hybrid that they could either try to walk all over or have pleasant easy conversations with. No real threat.

Jimin rested his hand on the edge of the desk to steady himself, then silently inclined his head to indicate that the boy could continue.

 “I-I don’t feel.. feel well.”

 Jimin gently rested a hand on the boys back only to frown at how sharp the hybrid’s bones were beneath his clothing. “What do you mean? Are you stressed? Sick? Do you feel nauseous?”

The boy merely nodded and swallowed loudly, sinking further away from Jimin.

 “Do you want to go to the nurse?” he asked softly. Looking more closely at the boys’ face, his oddly sharp facial structure and sunken cheeks. He had originally seen the bruises under the boys eyes as a part of the exam season stress but maybe there was something else happening.. When he got the nod of approval Jimin set his hand on the boys exam paper. “Do you want to keep this for now, or should I take it?”

 “Take it.”  

 Okay then. Jimin stood up, slipping the exam paper from the students desk, and bringing it back to his station, making note of the foreign name, ‘Felix’, filled in at the top right corner. Then he moved to the intercom attached to the wall behind his desk chair and held the button that connected him to the head office. “Hi, could we please have someone come to room 48? I need a student to be taken to the nurses office.”

A garbled reply came back at him that he could only hope meant that someone would be sent soon. In the meantime, Jimin dug in his bag until he retrieved a sealed bottle of water. It wasn’t as cold as it had been when he had bought it, but it would do. He returned to the boy who had now buried his face into his hands, taking deep shaky breaths.

 “Felix… can you try taking some small sips of water for me?” Jimin knelt beside the desk once more, twisting off the cap of the bottle. “Just a few? When last did you eat or drink something?”

He didn’t get much of a response other than the hybrid lifting his head enough to look at the open water before shakily taking it from Jimin. He took the smallest of sips before just sitting there with his eyes tightly shut.

 “Okay.” Jimin rubbed Felix’s back and stood up again, coughing into his arm before letting out a restrained groan. “Everyone, you have 40 minutes left. If you’re finishing off or just sitting there, then go through your answers again and make sure you’ve read the questions carefully.”  

 It was almost ten minutes before Jimin heard a soft knock on the door.

Felix had been sitting with his hands pressed tightly against his eyes, leaning heavily on his elbows while taking stuttering breaths. Jimin had been hovering with concern, but there wasn’t anything he could really do to help. The dog hybrid pretty much shunned him every time he murmured a gentle question or soothing words.

Jimin left his spot next to the sick boy, giving a quick glance over the class to find that at least a third of them were watching him and not going over their work like he’d encouraged, but he called out a brief ‘half an hour left’ and moved to open the door.

 “Jimin?”

 “Jin.” Jimin let out a heavy breath, running a finger under his nose before leaning closer to the concerned elder. Silently thanking that their office employees had thought to call the school nurse directly and not some random other teacher to walk the boy to a better environment. “Hi, I’m not sure how sick this boy is, but he has a fever and I think he might be nauseous. He couldn’t tell me if it was from anxiety or something else so… He didn’t seem too keen on talking to me at all actually. I just gave him water.”

Jin nodded, wiping his hands on his jeans before stepping forward to move into the class. For a moment he looked like he wanted to question Jimin on something else but thought better of it.

 “Where are they?”

Jimin pointed him out and then stood back, trying his best to watch over the rest of the class and not interfere with Jin as he prompted a few words out of Felix – mostly about what he felt like and whether he was okay to walk - before helping him stand. The witch had to wrap an arm around the boys waist to kept him steady and they were forced to move at a slow pace, but Jin just murmured soft barely audible words of encouragement until they’d reached the door. Jimin lay a steadying hand on Jin’s arm before biting at his lip.

 “Do you need help getting back? I can ask the office to send another person..”

 “We’re fine Jimin.” Jin reassures, his hand rubbing gently at Felix’s side. “I know him, I’d rather just move slowly and not stress him out too much. You can come by in a bit if you’re worried, but I’ve got it.”

 Jimin let them go, closing the door softly behind them trying to ignore the tears that had sprung to Felix’s eyes as soon as the pair had left the room. Distracted, he gave a final slow walk through the rows of students. Most of them were finished now, some had lain down over their desks while others fiddled with their stationery. He gave a pleased nod to see that at least two students where carefully reading through their work and added to certain places, and then he passed Soobin. The boy had completely drawn over the back of his exam paper with dark detailed sketches that  couldn’t have been done quickly. Jimin winced at the thought of how the boys answers must look, and took it has a hint to sit the rest of the time at his desk where he sipped at the final bit of his now lukewarm tea.

He sent a few carefree texts to Yoongi, who had been complaining bitterly about having to stay at home for the day. Apparently he had tried to talk Namjoon into letting him work but the clumsy witch had threatened to jinx the elder if Yoongi came in to work. Jimin smiled at his boyfriend’s irritated messages, knowing that the warlock was probably still in bed despite him having his studio there if he really wanted to work.

He still felt a bit bad about getting Yoongi sick, but the warlock had thankfully always been a quick healer, so hopefully if he rested for a day or two then he would be fine. Jimin sent a final ‘see you in a bit! Love you!’ before he readied up the exam folder to retrieve the papers.

 He coughed once into his fist, pushing up his glasses instinctively afterwards, then gave a soft smile. “Okay guys, if anyone is still writing I’m going to need you to stop.”

*

   “Jin? You in here?” Jimin peeked into the small nurses office only to find it empty, ignoring how his voice had cracked. The desk had been pushed neatly to the side and had an open medical bag with some scattered medications on it but other than that and the locker off to the side that held Jin’s personal things, the room was impeccably clean. Although that shouldn’t surprise him, it was a nurses office. “Soekjin?”

 He heard a soft reply and then Jin appeared, ducking through the white curtain that basically blended into the wall. The sectioned off area for those that needed a bed to lay down in, if Jimin remembered correctly.

  “Yeah, hey.” Jin smiled and tugged at the collar of his shirt before collapsing into his chair with a sigh. “Sorry, I’ve been running everywhere.”

 “Mr. Popularity.” Jimin teased and entered properly into the room to lean against the second chair across from his friend. He flipped a small backpack up and dropped it onto the empty seat. “Felix left this. I didn’t want to leave it there in case there was something important inside. He can just fetch it from here whenever he’s back at school.”

 “He hasn’t left yet.” Jin let out a breath much heavier than before. His expression darker than what Jimin was used to seeing on him. “He stays in a foster home with a whole bunch of other kids, his guardians are always a bit preoccupied with the younger children. I think they like to think that the older kids can fend for themselves a lot better than what they actually can, but yeah. They were called, but his foster brother will probably be the one to fetch him after his classes for uni end.”

 Jimin frowned deeply. His chest ached in sympathy for the timid hybrid that had seemed close to passing out earlier. “Is he… okay?”

 “Mostly.” Jin shrugged, glancing back to the curtained area he had come through. “He threw up a few times and put up more of a fight than I thought possible when I tried to get him to drink a potion. I had to resort to just standard medicine, but it won’t be as effective.  Seems like a flu.”

 “I felt awful that I couldn’t really help earlier.” Jimin admitted with a small sniff, rubbing at the tip of his nose swiftly. “He seemed scared to tell me anything, but I don’t know… maybe he just really wasn’t feeling well.”

 Jin shook his head. “This isn’t his first foster home, he got moved around a lot. From his file and the times he’s spoken to me, he has a bit of a rocky history with cat hybrids – of course his experiences kind of dealt more with predatory breeds but I suppose he just kind of categorised.”

 Now Jimin felt worse. He bit at his lip and locked his eyes onto the curtain as if he would be able to see the boy through the material. Was he asleep, or was he listening? Jimin’s throat tightened at the thought of having scared the dog hybrid. He didn’t really like causing someone else unnecessary stress, especially if there was a history of something … what, abusive? Maybe?

 “I didn’t realise… Why was he sent to school if he wasn’t feeling well?”

 “Beats me. Probably didn’t say anything, he’s only really comfortable with a few people and I don’t think he expects to rely on his foster parents.” Jin says quietly. “He’s a good kid, though. Very funny and loud when he wants to be. He just needs to open up to others a bit more, stop feeling like a burden and maybe participate a bit more.”

 Jimin nodded, twisting at one of his rings. “It’s hard sometimes, I get that. If he ever wants to he’s more than welcome to come by the dance studio’s. We sometimes hold after school classes for those that are curious or need extra practices. It might be a bit late to switch to it as a subject, but I’m willing to teach him a few things when he’s feeling better, maybe it will help in terms of meeting new people. Or I can ask Hobi if he can teach him a few things if he’ll feel more comfortable with a human teacher.”    

 “I’ll let him know.” Jin let out a huff of a laugh. “How are you? Feeling better about being back?”

 Jimin grinned widely, leaning heavily onto the chair. “Loads better, Yoongi helped me a lot. I’m still a bit stuffy –“

 “And your voice is super hoarse.” Jin said, then smiled teasingly as Jimin whined, his ears drooping a little.

 “Yeah, I know… But I really do feel better. I’m tired now but I’m happy to be back at work, I missed my kids. I got see two of my students during the exam, although I don’t think I have a lot of faith in the ones English skills. … its fine though.” Jimin straightened up and gave a dramatic wave of his hands. “He won’t need good marks in standard school, he’ll go far in dancing.”

 Jin pulled a face at Jimin’s words causing the younger to let out a small giggle.

“Maybe not fail the standard schooling, but you get what I mean. He’s going places whether he gets those marks or not.”

 “Sure, Minnie. Just don’t tell him that he doesn’t need to get good marks in other things.” Jin advised teasingly. “That’s not the best way to educate the next generation.”

 A gentle knock on the office door had Jimin jumping in fright, his ears drawn back, and fur raised, only to see two boys hovering outside. He vaguely recognised one from seeing him in hallways but the shorter one was unfamiliar, they both had soft fae-like features and wide innocent eyes. The taller was still dressed in the academies uniform while the other was dressed entirely in baggy black clothes that reminded Jimin of Yoongi. Although he doubted Yoongi would willingly get a lip and eyebrow piercing… maybe Jimin could talk him into it…

 “Hey, Chan. You got here fairly quickly.” Jin rose from his seat. “ I think he’s asleep right now, but I’ll wake him up and give him a final look over.”

 “Thank you so much Mr. Kim.” The dark one said, smiling brightly at Jin before nodding a greeting at Jimin.

He gave a soft ‘Hi’ before he pulled the light backpack off of the seat and handed it to the one Jin had addressed. “Here’s his bag.”

 “Thank you.” Chan accepted it quickly and gratefully.

 “Aren’t you one of the dance teachers? On the other side of the school?” The student, who looked about the same age as Felix despite being taller than both Chan and Jimin. “I saw you in that theatre performance thing like three months ago… right?”

 Jimin nodded, assuming that the boy was talking about the fundraiser that the school did that was mostly a time for the students to see the staff make fools of themselves doing dances or skits – or in his and the rest of the performance arts staffs’ case, their talent and skills being flaunted in their natural habitats.

 “Yep, I’m a modern – contemporary instructor, but I help out in the hip hop sector when I’m needed.”

 The boys face lit up at knowing he was right. “You’re dancing is so cool. You were so graceful on stage, it looked really beautiful.”

Jimin smiled and felt his cheek warm. Jin had disappeared behind the curtain and Chan was watching Jimin with a small smile.

 “I remember now. I went and watched with him and some of our other brothers.” Chan added. “He kind of became obsessed with dance after that.”

 His cheeks burned and he let out a soft nervous cough into his fist. “That’s kind, thank you. Are you… all in the same Foster family as Felix?”

 Chan nodded before adding. “I don’t live there anymore, but I still spend time with some of them there, kind of become like real brothers, you know?”

 Jimin nodded, stilling feeling a bit off about thinking of them in a foster home. “Well I was just telling Jin that he was welcome to come by the studios if he ever felt interested in dance. As a way to open up a bit. I’m not sure if Felix would join if I taught him, but you’re welcome to join myself or Mr. Jung as well if you want – um..”

 “Hyunjin.” The boy said eagerly. “That’s so cool. I really want to, I wanted to take classes, but our guardians couldn’t pay for the extra fee.”

 Jimin bit back his grimace. It was unfortunate that students had to pay an extra amount for specialised classes but there wasn’t much he could do besides over informal schooling.

 “Well, we can organise once or twice a week to help you guys out. You actually look like the right build for a dancer, probably wont struggle too much…”

 Jin reappeared with the small dog hybrid following close behind, looking a bit steadier on his feet than before but still nowhere near healthy enough to be at school. Felix hesitated at the sight of him but didn’t stop for long before he move to sink into Chan’s arms. Jin spoke about some of the hybrids symptoms and what he’d need to take as well as giving a few things to watch out for and what to do if it got worse just in case their guardians got busy. Jimin moved back, letting the two boys move closer to their brother in the office. It was cute to see the three of them together, so different and yet there was a clear sense of family. Jimin sniffed only to regret it as a sharp piercing lemon scent that was no doubt coming from Felix flooded his senses. He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t smelt it earlier, perhaps it was because Felix was feeling safe – in any case, Jimin blinked hard. He pressed a finger secretly to his nose, but it only seemed to aggravate the itch. Damn it, he had really hoped that he had finished with this earlier – he had blown his nose enough times after leaving the class, but apparently not.

‘He’ingxt’ah.. h’ingxsh..hih..hih’IGTSHiew…’ He cringed as he felt eyes land on him but couldn’t do anything else but keep his hand covering his face. ‘hih’itchshew… h’IShiew..’

 “Bless you, Jimin.”

 Jimin groaned and pulled a face, giving a soft and somewhat nervous sniffle. It seemed to be the end of it thankfully. Everyone was looking at him, but thankfully they didn’t seem to really care. “Thanks…”

 “Thought you were better, hmm?”

 “Jin,” Jimin pursed his lips and resisted the urge flick him. “Shut up. I’m fine now, just... lingering stuff.”

Jin hummed but Jimin knew he was only trying to be annoying.

 “okay well, I’ll head out then.” Jimin clapped his hands together awkwardly, no longer wanting to stay in the room in case he was going to start being sensitive to any more scents.

 “Tell Yoongi to feel better for me, Min.” Jin said as he wrote down the names of specific medications that would be the most long lasting for a hybrid.

Remembering the adorable sight he had left his boyfriend in that morning, Jimin spun around with a cheery gasp and wide glimmering eyes that had Jin laughing loudly, the other three in the room just blinking with bemusement at the suddenly change.

 “Get home Jimin! That wasn’t an invitation to start blabbering about your boyfriend. Actually, I’m very annoyed at you – It’s your fault that I didn’t get my extra Namjoon-day yesterday. I was devastated! Devastated Jimin!” Jin scolded him without even trying to suppress his smile.

 “You can sleep with your husband whenever you want Jin. No one is stopping you.” A pen smacked into his chest and Jimin bubbled with laughter as he danced out of range of the book that had come flying soon after the first projectile. “Don’t throw things at me!”

 “Yah! Don’t say inappropriate things in front of students, you bratty cat!”

 “They know what sex is!” Jimin argued playfully, coughing lightly as he caught the next book that came flying at his face. “So sensitive. Has it been that long?”

 “I should have never befriended you. I have to rethink my life choices.” Jin shook his head as he sent Felix an exasperated look. The dog hybrid was watching the interaction with wide, watery eyes.

 “Bye, Soekjin.” Jimin laughed, handing the book he had caught to Hyunjin. “I’ll let Yoongi know you care. If you want… I can ask him to make up something special to help-“

“GO HOME, BRAT!”

 Jimin pranced away, hearing the soft curses that Jin threw after him. Home. Despite how mixed his feelings were after finding out about Felix’s family life, he couldn’t help but be filled with a flood of warmth at the thought of his boyfriend waiting for him. Most likely still cuddled up into the warm nest Jimin had rearranged for him, unless the elder had decided to use energy to make food or something, but that seemed particularly doubtful after he had messaged Jimin about how lucid he felt and about the mountain of tissues creating a new city on the floor of their bedroom.

It was endearing… possibly contagious to anyone else that stepped fought into their house but somehow, very endearing.

#bts sickfic #bts fanfic #witch jin #nurse jin #hybrid jimin #dancer teacher jimin #alternate universe #stray kids #hybrid felix #I tossed some kpop idols into this mess just because I could #Its a mess #but I posted something #Its a little cute #I wanted caring Jimin #This is more plot than anything else i feel like

[dumblydork]

Wasn't expecting to be back as a writer so soon but I just absolutely CANNOT get enough of writing headcanons and AUs and JUST BEAR WITH ME OKAY

Also I feel like this is super long but it might not be idk

Some more Hinny, with a bit of Romione! So this one is set in the modern magical world. Hope you enjoy! And don't forget, if you have absolutely ANY Hinny headcanons you'd want to see written, please drop me a message or an ask anytime and I'll do my best to write one 3>

~~

"This class just CANNOT get any worse." Ron muttered, drawing lazy lines with his pen on the History of Magic textbook they were reading.

"We literally live in 2020, do we really HAVE to study all this old age crap?" He continued, now shifting to drawing circles as the teacher droned on.

Harry for one, wasn't listening to the professor (though he did vaguely hear him mention 'Goblin War' but that was about it) and neither to Ron. Harry was busy staring out of the window onto the busy streets of London below their high classroom, thinking about a certain redhead.

A certain redhead who also happened his best friend's sister.

"Hi!" Hermione's voice came in an excited whisper as she started taking out her textbook, the dull grey of it made slightly happy with all the colourful muggle stickers (once affronted, she had told Harry that they were called 'Post Its' but Harry just could never bother with the name), full of notes and extra bits. Hermione was careful not to let the professor know that she was suddenly here, a thought which hit Harry when Ron exclaimed almost loudly before Hermione kicked his foot under the table to shut him up.

"I swear to Godric you weren't here literally a minute ago how- Harry?" Ron wondered, calling his best friend.

"Yes it's very odd Ron." Harry almost sighed, back to his brooding. Hermione was doing weird things always- it was nothing new.

"Please be like Harry and stop looking so surprised. Let me focus." Hermione sneered at Ron and whipped out her pencil, furiously noting down from the board whatever the professor had been droning on about for the past 45 minutes.

"And that, is all on the Goblin War of 1785 today. Make sure you finish your homework- remember, 4 pages on the magical strategies used by the two goblin sides to win the war. I need it handed in on Monday. Class dismissed." The professor walked out with his nose in the air, as if he had imparted the knowledge of a lifetime in one single lesson. He waved a lazy hand at the board which wiped off all the notes, releasing a few cries from the back where some kids were still making notes.

"Thank Godric that's over!" Ron could almost cry. Harry was back to paying attention, especially after Hermione slapped his hand. "Earth calling whatever planet Harry Potter is on!" She laughed. The three of them got up and walked out into the corridor.

"What lesson do we have next?" Harry asked absentmindedly.

"What's up with you today? You've been like this since we returned from the Burrow well over a week ago." Ron said thoughtfully, an arm slung carelessly around Hermione's shoulder, who was surprisingly okay with it.

Harry snapped back to reality. If Ron found out, it would be Harry's head and nothing else.

"And what about the two of you? Care to explain," Harry looked at the Ron's arm, "whatever this is? You two have been just finding ways for touching each other, don't think I haven't noticed." Harry finished with a whistle, knowing this was the nerve he had hit. He almost grinned to himself.

"That," Hermione shrug off the arm around her, blushing furiously, "is just two friends being friendly." She finished, but there was a considerable change in the pitch of her voice.

"Yes yes whatever." Harry flicked a lazy hand at the two, knowing fully well they had gotten up to something in the Burrow which was only between the two of them.

The trio had reached the cafeteria where they sat down on one of the empty benches, having half hour free before moving on to Harry's most despised class- Chemistry, or Potions as it was called in the older ages.

Harry let his thoughts move back to the Burrow (courtesy this couple who were now sitting with their sides practically touching). The Burrow was Ron's house, and the trio's favourite hangout. They were there for the summer break, which had ended a week ago, but the memories were still as old as yesterday.

"Oh please, I will kick your ass at Quidditch." Ginny, Ron's younger sister and the youngest Weasley piped, her fiery red hair pulled back into a ponytail.

Quidditch was the one thing Harry really enjoyed- it was rare to have Quidditch matches in school now with so much course load, so these summers were what he lived for.

Particularly this one summer where Ginny had turned up looking just gorgeous, something Harry had failed to notice in the 6 years he had known her. It wasn't as if she wasn't gorgeous before- it just struck him differently this time. Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was the fact that she could make Harry laugh almost always. She was not only gorgeous- Ginny had developed a sense of humour and sarcasm quite unlike her brothers- they were fond of practical jokes, whereas Ginny was more of the sharp tongued type who could make an entire room laugh without as much as waving a hand. And it was absolutely fabulous. Harry had found himself staring at her practically everyday of summer since he came to the Burrow three months ago.

The way she tied her hair up, or how she bit her lip when exasperated with her Math homework and the way her lips opened slowly first when she laughed. The slight, barely perceptible crook in her teeth and the generous sprinkling of freckles all across her face. It was all suddenly very endearing to Harry.

And hence, midway through his last week at the Burrow, Harry had come to the conclusion that he had started fancying Ginevra Weasley, his best friend Ronald Weasley's younger sister. Not to mention practically Hermione's best friend, despite being an year younger.

So that was why Harry was barely able to keep his impulses in check when he saw Ginny in her Quidditch outfit, wearing a red and gold jersey with cream coloured bottoms. But when he thought of how he could have his ears boxed in by Ron, he could very much focus back on the match and not on a heart-achingly stunning redhead.

"Language, Ginny. This girl," Ron's mom, Molly, muttered under her breath, currently putting up laundry by swishing her wand back and forth. All of the Weasley siblings were back home at the Burrow, except for Percy and Bill, who were both busy working.

"Sorry mom! As I was saying Harry, I will definitely kick your bottom in this match." Ginny corrected herself.

"Please, we shall see." Lately it was getting increasingly difficult for him to produce coherent responses in front of the woman he had come to consider as practically a sarcastic goddess. But he was proud of this response- he should continue thinking about Ron's punches.

"Okay, positions, and go!" Harry heard Arthur, Ron's father say and the match began in earnest. Hermione was sitting this one down with a novel, but at the moment was preparing a jug of lemonade the Muggle way.

Ron and Harry were one team, whereas Ginny, George and Fred were another. The game lasted for a good 40 minutes before Harry and Ron won the game by obtaining the 'snitch' (which was actually just an enchanted flying ball, kindly given to them by Arthur who had an obsession for all things Muggle).

"What happened to all that talk of kicking ass, huh?" Harry laughed, almost falling into one of the reclining chairs. Molly was handing out cool glasses of lemonade. "I think mine needs more ice." Harry said, sipping from his glass.

"Oh I totally forgot the ice! My wand is in the kitchen though." She said sheepishly, not wanting to give up her spot on the recliner. Or rather not wanting to get up from her spot next to Ron, who had decided to perch himself on Hermione's recliner despite there being an extra empty one.

"That's okay, I'll get some myself." He grinned. "I'll come too- I need to change out of this." Ginny added. They walked back inside the Burrow which was empty, with the entire family outside in the garden.

Harry waved his wand which was lying on the kitchen counter into a bowl and ice appeared, shining in the sunlight but not melting. Magic.

He added a few to his glass and leaned on the counter, sipping lazily on the drink. It was good to be away from the noise for a minute. Ginny reappeared downstairs, having changed into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and unholy thoughts came rushing back into Harry's brain.

"I'll get some ice too, now that I'm here." Ginny took out an empty glass and filled it with ice, presumably wanting to fill it with lemonade later. But the way she took the ice gave Harry goosebumps- she leant across him instead of asking him to move and picked a few pieces of ice from behind him. Harry was frozen in his place- Ginny made no move whatsoever to stand behind. She stood inches away from Harry, just a few centimetres shorter than him.

"Oh for goodness sakes Harry, kiss me already." She rolled her eyes but the tip of her ears went red.

"What?" Harry spluttered- it was something he had been wanting to do since the start of summer but putting it into words stunned him of sorts. Was he THAT readable?

"Don't think I haven't seen the way you've looked at me all summer, Harry. It's not that difficult to know that you fancy me. A lot. And just so you know, I do too. A lot. Have done so since Ron introduced us.* She whispered, but stepped back after her confession.

Harry was still stunned, but could anyway notice the distance she had put, now slightly unsure after her brazenness. She still stared at him, her lips shaped into an imperceptible 'O', begging to be kissed. So that's what Harry did- he pulled Ginny back towards him by her waist and placed his lips on hers, almost tasting sunlight but with cherry swirled in it. His hands remained at her waist but Ginny moved hers to lock around Harry's neck, slowly playing with the curls at his nape. She smiled into the kiss, parting her lips were slightly, just so Harry could taste her; it was sinful but decadent. Very much like a good bar of chocolate. More than good. An absolutely unbelievable bar of chocolate.

When they finally pulled back after what could have been a lifetime, or an eternity, or a few seconds, Ginny grinned at Harry. "Do you not have anything to say?" She stood there's suddenly a bit shy, with her arms still around Harry's neck.

"You said all of it for me. I do fancy you- maybe way too much." He said, feeling as if Ginny's brazen confidence was transferred into his veins.

"That's a relief, because I might or might not have been looking to get you to kiss me." She said, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

"You what?" Harry stared at her incredulously, before breaking out into a wide smile.

"Don't worry, the bit about me fancying you is real. Have done so since I was 10." She added seriously.

"So are we a thing now?" Harry raised an eyebrow, quite enjoying the small circles he was making on Ginny's side.

"Keep dreaming on, Potter." She removed her hands from around his neck and disappeared like she had reappeared after changing, what felt like ages ago. Harry smiled to himself before walking outside again, his lemonade glass forgotten.

---

"Really Harry, one would think you're in love the way you're zoned out." Ron stared at him, as Harry snapped back into the real world.

"Huh? Oh yeah." He agreed absent mindedly, still reeling a bit from that summer afternoon.

"You're in love?" Hermione asked, an eyebrow raised as she looked up from what looked like homework.

"Forget me, but you do seem to be." Harry glanced at her notebook, which had R+H scribbled messily on the margins. He grinned as Hermione and Ron blushed furiously.

"Okay fine, me and Ron might have kissed at the Burrow." Hermione said, snapping her book shut as Ron stared at her longingly.

"How interesting, because me and Harry did something similar." Ginny suddenly appeared from behind and sat beside Harry, pressing her lips to his cheek.

The two boys stared back and forth. Ron's eyes widened but returned to their normal size, as Ron slung an arm around Hermione again, except this time she actually leaned into him.

"What? Is happening?" Harry looked around, first at the couple in front of him and then at Ginny. This was all extremely confusing.

"Did you think you were the only observant human to ever exist? Hermione Granger is my girlfriend, Harry. Nothing escapes her. Not when one of her best friends kisses another one of her best friends." Ron laughed.

"Wait so you're not mad?" Harry was still shaken. Was his worrying all a waste? If he'd known, he could have spent more time with Ginny, locked behind doors, his lips on hers-

"Why would I be? I'd rather Ginny end up with you rather than some other git from school." Ron's voice cut into his thoughts breezily.

"Oh. Okay." Harry settled before smiling at Ginny and weaving his hand through hers.

They sat in silence for a few moments before Harry's eyes widened.

"Wait. Hermione Granger is your girlfriend?!" The typical Potter late realisation. The three people around him laughed heartily before Harry joined in, shooting Ginny an endearing look, making the tips of her ears turn red.

#hinny au #harry potter #ginny weasley #harry potter headcanon #harry x ginny #hinny headcanon #hinny #headcanon #school #romione #ron x hermione

[prettywordsyouleft]

MonX Hospital | Hyungwon

Pairing: Chae Hyungwon x reader

Genre: dietitian – hospital au / romance / fluff

Warnings: medical and nutrition terms, a little hint of enemies to lovers but not really enough to label it as that

Word count: 3719

Index: Shownu | Wonho | Minhyuk | Kihyun | Hyungwon | Jooheon | Changkyun

“Holly,” Seungwoo called out and the registered nurse turned around to your group standing there, a bright smile crossing her lips. “Can you give us a hint?”

“Let me guess,” she started, pointing at the four of you with a playful smirk. “Mentoring season?”

“Who’s the best doctor to be assigned to?” Soyou asked earnestly and Jeongmin beside you nodded.

“Give us your expertise from working alongside them all.”

The nurse approached the group of students, folding her arms across her chest. “Well, that would be Doctor Coffee.”

“Doctor who?” Seungwoo questioned, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead. “Ah, don’t mess with us, Holly!”

“I’m serious, tell me who you all got?” the nurse instructed and then once you were all done, you listing over Doctor Chae as your assigned registrar, she looked at you smiling a little more. “Doctor Coffee is the best to learn from, I stand by it.”

“Why is he called that?” you wondered and she patted you on the shoulder, departing your little group with ease.

“You’ll find out!”

You weren’t sure what to expect from Holly’s recommendation, especially since she was referring to a dietitian. Maybe, it was just a fun nickname, and Doctor Chae was known to have a cup of coffee each morning. That didn’t stand out as something to refer to him as, over your several years studying a Bachelor of Science and now wrapping up your Masters in Nutrition and Dietetics, you had become accustomed to coffee as a vice for yourself, and the majority of students and health professionals you crossed paths with regularly. Coffee seemed to be the staple brew in the health industry.

In fact, as you headed towards Doctor Chae’s clinical room the following morning, you were carrying a takeout cup along with your assorted learning tools. Knocking once on his door, you smiled brightly when he called out for you to enter.

“Hello, I’m Y/N,” you greeted, placing your things down so you could wipe off your hand and hold it out to the doctor. He peered at you disinterestedly, barely gripping onto your hand before returning his gaze to the screen. Trying not to be offended, you watched him silently, one hand swishing an iced Americano around whilst the other scrolled over a patient’s file.

Finally, the doctor spoke. “How long are you joining my clinic for?”

“A month.”

“Okay,” he simply replied, going back to his notes.

Waiting for direction, you glanced awkwardly around the room. “Where should I set up?”

“Somewhere that suits your needs best and doesn’t interfere with the patient consultations.”

Was Holly right that learning from such a prickly doctor would be best? You grumbled inwardly knowing the others were no doubt assigned to more approachable staff.

Once the remnants of his cold beverage were finished, you were surprised by the change in activity out of the man. He threw the cup in the trash, stood up and stretched a little, ready for his first patient. The mood in the entire office improved tremendously, as if the last drop of coffee had to be consumed before the doctor kicked into gear.

You perked up by this, sitting up at your little station more eagerly.

And then it was go time.

You were immediately thrown into the issues various patients were having, writing down both your own notes and anything Doctor Chae asked of you. He was incredibly engaging with each session, both with the patient and with you. It was as if you were in a different office than the one you first stepped into.

The young doctor was brimming with knowledge and helpful tips to both you and his clients. He identified issues in their lifestyle and eating plans and explained everything in a way that was informative without sounding too jargon-loaded.

You almost had to wipe your chin for drool at one point; it had hung open in awe for far too long.

The first week of your practical module went by in a blur that it wasn’t until you were starting your next week in Doctor Chae’s office that you picked up on some observations of your mentor.

You had already become accustomed to his indifference in the morning before his first caffeine hit for the day, and there were several other instances where he returned with another cup within his hand from a meeting or lunch, and had even asked when you went to buy yourself a juice if you could get him a coffee whilst at the cafe last Friday. It hadn’t stood out to you as a problem until he sat down with a man in his early 40s who was facing several dietary concerns.

“How many cups of coffee are you drinking throughout the day?”

The man rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “About four to six, depending on the workload.”

“That’s a lot of coffee,” Doctor Chae mentioned and before you could hold it in, a snort left you. Both men within the room glanced at you as you flushed red, apologising quietly and then repositioned your laptop in attempts to deflect the attention away from you. The doctor cleared his throat a little before continuing with his questions for the patient. Once he was done with his diagnostics, he listed off various ways to help the man recover from burnout, lower his stress and support all this with a balanced diet – one in which didn’t include as much caffeine.

And once the patient left the room, Doctor Chae shut the door behind his farewell and turned towards you. “What was that?”

“Huh?”

“The snort within my consultation.”

You smiled guiltily. “Sorry.”

“No, tell me why you snorted exactly.”

“Well,” you started, feeling as if you were balancing on a dangerous edge with how intense Doctor Chae’s gaze was upon you. Still, you decided to use facts. “You had five cups of coffee yesterday.”

“And in your clinical impression of me so far, Y/N, are you mocking me?”

“I just found it interesting that your patient was drinking too much caffeine and as someone who is highly regarded as a nutrition expert, you know how bad it is for you and still do the same.”

“Interesting findings,” he responded curtly, returning to his desk. “What are your recommendations?”

“I uh, I don’t-”

“It was an observation you made over me, and I want to know if you were the doctor and I were the patient, what you would recommend.”

You panicked. “I’m not sure.”

“The right response is to lower caffeine intake slowly, ensure that I’m sleeping well and to look for alternatives to help with energy and any other reasons for why we take in too much caffeine as humans.” The doctor looked back at you questioningly. “Correct?”

“Yes.”

“So what would you recommend for me to drink this afternoon, Y/N?”

“More water, for one.”

“Can you go get me the biggest bottle you can find in this complex then?” he instructed, holding out his card. You stood up and took it with a quick nod, dashing out of the office and started your trek across the building to the café at the entrance.

Bumping into Jeongmin halfway, you let out an exasperated wail. He chuckled. “That bad with Doctor Coffee?”

“I have just made my working environment sour,” you lamented and the fellow student looked at you for further information. “Doctor Coffee doesn’t like being called out for not doing as he preaches. I accidentally snorted during clinical hours at a comment he made about caffeine intake and now he’s tasked me with getting him the biggest bottle of water I can find.”

“Rather you than me. Working with Doctor Laing has been a breeze. She’s so laidback.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled and Jeongmin nudged you playfully. You glowered at the path ahead. “I take back all I said about how much I was enjoying learning under him. He’s a narcissist.”

“Some doctors just don’t know how to take their own advice. Maybe he’s embarrassed that you called him out. I bet not many people have.”

You pondered the option and shrugged. “He could be. It wasn’t intentional.”

“Who knows, you might be good for one another. Him with all his expertise and you with your inability to keep quiet when you find fault.”

“Jeongmin!” you growled as your friend departed your side with a skip in his step. “Just you wait until I next see you!”

“Looking forward to it!” he called out across at the atrium with a fond wave. “Until then, may the water guide you towards clarity and peace!”

You huffed indignantly. Today was going to be a long day.

Doctor Chae did decrease his caffeine intake, at least for the remainder of that week. And whilst you tried really hard to keep your opinions to yourself, given he was prickly towards you for an entire day thereafter, you couldn’t help but find more fault with the dietitian's wellbeing.

He didn’t eat nearly enough, the coffee he did religiously still drink simply sloshing around in an almost empty stomach. He was also incredibly picky for someone who boasted to his patients to try and eat a wide range of food types where applicable.

For a successful dietitian, he was seemingly incapable of taking on his own advice.

“Y/N,” the doctor called out and you blinked out of your thoughts, smiling up at the man standing before you. “Are you going to share your observations?”

“The patient was too focused on weight loss-”

“Not those observations, the ones you’re basically sitting on top of your hands so you don’t spill out.”

“I’d rather, not Doctor Chae.”

“Hm, it must be an authoritative thing,” he muttered and then smiled at you. “Please, refer to me as Hyungwon when it’s just us. There. Now you can tell me.”

You laughed a little. “A name doesn’t take away our roles, Doctor Chae.”

“Hyungwon, please,” he repeated and then sat down on the bed beside your station. “Isn’t it annoying to withhold that information?”

“I’d like to keep working with you.”

“It’s that bad?” he guessed with a sigh, rubbing at his face. “I’ve tried with the coffee thing-”

“You barely eat. And what you do pick up is usually processed and only going to give your sugars a sharp boost and then fall rapidly, causing you to reach for the caffeine again. You don’t seem aware of how unbalanced your diet is, at least within this office and I don’t know if you’re tackling underlying medical conditions or live by a specific diet trend, which you and I both know don’t work for the majority of people and leads to unhealthy eating and medical conditions if overused.”

Hyungwon didn’t say anything for a moment, his arms merely remaining folded across his front. And then he broke into a bashful grin. “Feel better?”

“Oh, you have no idea how much,” you breathed and then blinked, your mouth falling agape. “Doctor Chae, I-”

“It’s easier to focus on others and what they eat,” he announced and you bit back the remainder of your apology. He didn’t seem mad this time, in fact, he was visibly flustered and you wondered if Jeongmin had been right the other week. Hyungwon cleared his throat and continued. “I much prefer making sure others are eating well.”

“Who is going to look out for you then?” you questioned and he became thoughtful before shrugging.

“I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Well, its lunchtime right now,” you mentioned, looking at the clock to confirm you were right for his scheduled lunch break. “How about we eat together?”

“Why would you do that? Don’t you meet up with your fellow student friends on break?”

You smiled brightly as you collected your bag. “Today, I’d much rather have lunch with you.”

The doctor was surprisingly out of his element as you dragged him across the road to an eatery, pointing out the different options before settling on a sandwich bar. You insisted that he add more than just meat and cheese to the roll, his uncomfortable expression causing you to giggle when you were seated across from him. “Doctor?”

“It’s very healthy.”

“It should be. A nice balance of carbohydrates, protein and fats. This will keep you going nicely for the rest of the afternoon, don’t you agree?”

“I don’t know if I like you or not, Y/N.”

“Well, I thought the same about you, admittedly,” you confessed, picking up your filled roll with a smile, thinking back to all the times you had worried over your placement in his office. Glancing at the man again, you merely grinned. “But I think I like you now.”

“Huh.”

There was a comfortable silence between you as you ate and when you both headed back across the road to the hospital, you felt lighter than you had all week long. Swinging your arms at your sides, Hyungwon watched you before smirking. “You’re like a kid.”

“Excuse me?”

“We’re in a place of work, and you’re too elated.”

“Should I come to this place grumbling and see it as a ten-hour sentence each day?” you wondered and Hyungwon smiled, loosening up his body a little more. You nodded eagerly. “Look at that, you’re more carefree as well!”

“Only until we have patients. Then the game face goes back on,” he instructed and you nodded, giggling as Hyungwon skipped across the atrium towards the Dietetics department.

The next day, you came armed with supplies. You guessed right that the coffee Hyungwon sluggishly made his way through was the only thing he had in the morning and placed a container of porridge in front of him, along with another snack-size pottle containing some fruit. “Y/N, I-”

Giving the doctor a reproachful stare, he groaned at you before eating the entire thing. You noticed he didn’t leave for his mid-morning coffee, and by lunch, he seemed more alert than his usual. Holding up another packed bag of food, you shook it gently. “I made us lunch. It’s nice outside, so shall we go on a picnic?”

“You know, Y/N, anyone would think you’re enjoying yourself right now,” he commented with a pout as you handed over his share of the meal you had made last night to bring today.

“I am.”

“I must admit, you know how to cook well.”

“Is that half the problem? Are you any good in the kitchen?” you asked and Hyungwon grew bashful. “I thought as much.”

“I never prioritised learning how to cook.”

“I bet your grocery list consists of pre-packaged meals.”

“I’m still in charge of you right now, Miss L/N,” he warned with a playful glint in his eye. “Stop calling me out like this.”

“You need to eat better.”

“Do I?”

“I’ll make sure you do!” you proclaimed and the man smiled to himself.

“You’re certainly making a point about it. Though next week is your last with me,” he mentioned carefully and you shrugged.

“My studies are held within this hospital, Hyungwon. It won’t be hard for me to continue this.”

“The bigger question is, why are you wanting to?” he asked boldly, staring at you with that intense gaze of his. You blinked a couple of times before smiling.

“I want to help you look after yourself. You do such an amazing job for others, someone should help you.”

“This won’t get you brownie points on my final assessment for you.”

You gasped noisily as he chuckled. “I was never aiming for that!”

“I suppose it does make sense for a dietitian to practice what he preaches.”

“Precisely,” you agreed smugly, holding up your bottle of water to clink with his. Laughing together, you finished your lunch before heading back in to work on the afternoon clinic.

As promised, even when your time in Hyungwon’s office came to an end, you still made a point of checking in with him. You couldn’t do the breakfast run but the doctor had taken to sending you pictures to make sure you left him alone about eating first thing in the morning.

And he had sent you one this morning which had you leaving your study session in annoyance, marching over to the outpatients sector of the hospital and towards the Dietetics department. Checking with the reception whether Doctor Chae was with or without a patient, you waited outside for him to wrap up with the patient inside before you barged through him when he went to shut the door after they left.

“Y-Y/N!” he exclaimed hastily, darting in front of you. Glancing around the office, you then glared at the man before you.

“Would you like me to tell you of my findings, doctor?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“You see, I noticed that the lighting in today’s photo didn’t quite match the brightness of the world outside. Yesterday was overcast but today is not. And upon inspection, I see a coffee cup and no red and white spotted container. Funny, isn’t it? Because I’m sure you sent me a photo of your breakfast today.”

“I was in a rush.”

“Not that much of a rush that you couldn’t stop for coffee, Hyungwon.”

“You came all the way over here from class to tell me off for sending you the same photo twice? Come on Y/N!” he pointed out with a forced laugh, though you didn’t join him. Hyungwon gulped. “Fine, I’ll take you out for lunch.”

“You better.”

“I promise, now can I get back to seeing my patients?”

“I feel like you’ve become my patient,” you mentioned with a scowl, turning on your heel as you headed back to the university level of the hospital.

Breakfast and lunches together soon morphed into dinners as well. You hadn’t realised it, but you spent an awful lot of time together now. Standing in Hyungwon’s kitchen using his brand new cooking equipment, since he hadn’t really owned any before, you were almost done with dinner when Hyungwon appeared post-shower.

It should have dawned on you a whole lot sooner than now just how things had changed between you and the doctor.

You were unnaturally quiet over dinner and Hyungwon watched you carefully, putting down his utensils midway. “You figured out I didn’t eat breakfast again, didn’t you?”

“Huh?”

“I slept through my alarm. But this time I did get a blueberry muffin along with the coffee,” he continued, though when you didn’t praise his efforts, Hyungwon paused, narrowing his gaze. “What’s wrong with you?”

“N-Nothing.”

“Are you not happy with dinner? I thought you had done a good job,” he attempted, looking at his plate and then back to your face, still perturbed. “Y/N, you’re going to have to tell me so I can-”

“I think I’m in love with you,” you blurted out and Hyungwon rocked back in his chair, unmoving once the force of his action settled the seat again. You clamped your eyes shut. “I never realised just how much we’ve been acting like this for.”

“Acting like what?”

“Me coming into your world and making you eat each day. It was never my place.”

“No, but I’ve appreciated it. My health hasn’t been this good in years.”

“I stopped eating with my friends because I wanted to eat with you. And I’ve had fun doing so. We’ve been eating together for almost a year now.”

“Have we?” Hyungwon thought for a moment and then nodded. “So we have.”

“I’m guessing you don’t feel the same way,” you commented, pushing back your seat and standing up. “I should go.”

“Wait, Y/N!” he called as he came after you, taking a hold of your wrist and pulling you around. “I’m just confused about how you came to blurt out that you might love me when all you’ve done is talk about eating together.”

Looking up into his eyes as you tried to hold back your emotions from the sudden realisation, you inhaled a deep breath. “I could get used to doing more than just eating with you.”

“Last night we watched a movie together,” he pointed out and you nodded.

“See, we’re basically like a couple. You’re always helping me when I have problems too.”

Hyungwon smiled then, pushing your hair out of your face. “Can I tell you something?”

“Please, I feel like I’m going mad with how calm you are right now.”

“I thought we were already a couple,” he confessed and you merely stared back at him.

“What?”

“From when you were still being mentored by me. That last couple of weeks together, you insisted we ate together and treated me as if I was someone special to you. I knew back then I liked being around you. I mean, you were the first to point out just how easily I was forgetting myself. Your attention on me made me crave it more often.”

“Then why haven’t we made it official?”

Hyungwon shrugged sheepishly. “I didn’t think we needed to. I liked being with you and you seemed to like it too.”

“I do,” you agreed softly. “Why didn’t I connect what I felt for you was like I would of a partner until I saw you drying off your hair?”

“Did it feel highly domestic? You cooking dinner whilst I showered away my long day?” he offered and you reached up to place your hands on his shoulders.

“Can you continue that scene?”

“Hm, maybe I should thank the chef for her amazing meal.”

“That would be nice.”

Leaning in towards your lips, you closed your eyes and waited for impact. Instead, you felt the breath he expelled fall across your face, along with two words. “Thank you.”

“I think I’m going to kill you now,” you responded, snapping your eyes open right when Hyungwon pressed himself into you, kissing away your annoyance at his playful approach. Your eyes fluttered shut again and you fell within the kiss, humming in delight when he finally pulled away.

Hyungwon smiled at you affectionately. “Should we go finish dinner?”

“And watch a movie?”

“Then fall asleep against one another because it’s gotten late?”

You smiled, side-hugging the man as he moved you back towards the table in his apartment. “And eat breakfast together for the first time?”

“I really like the sound of that.”

_________________

Next: Jooheon

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[kpopchangedme]

Sun-drenched [M] - Youngjae

Every time you opened your mouth something outrageous came out but unfortunately, your new dorky step-brother seemed to be immune. You couldn’t tell if Youngjae was actually that clueless or if your reputation preceded you. 

Protagonists: Choi Youngjae & You

Word Count: 4.6k

Genre: NSFW - Cringe Fest - Smut - slight exhibitionism - f*ckgirl - Stepbrother!au || [One Shot]

[The Pleasure Chest: A Cringe Fest]

GOT7 | M.list

Your mother was doing that thing with her hair again, slightly shaking her head every time her new beau spoke. Every single bob invariably made her blonde curls spring. How disgusting. You had asked to be bleached once, a few years ago, and she had the audacity to claim it would look cheap on you. So unfair. 

She hadn't met her fourth husband for more than 6 months before she did just that. She thought it made her look younger, but Miami-midlife-crisis was more like it. It wasn't pretty wheat blonde, it was white yellow-ish banana buttercream. On-sale daffodil... Much like the sad ones Youngnam had gotten her from the convenience store yesterday.  They were now awaiting certain death in a crystal vase husband-number-two had gotten her for God knows what occasion.

You rolled your eyes when your latest stepfather started going over safety rules again. At your dad's there was never a need for them and if you correctly remembered the last time you had lived with your mom... You smiled, imagining how Dr. Top Surgeon would react if he found out his perfect church-going wife used to pop pills like candy and store a very impressive bong in the third drawer of her kitchen.

That would make for a fun scene. 

The goodbyes seemed to stretch half an eternity in the living room, after which you got dragged to the hall where the speech began all over again. Your mom gave you a short hug, more of a shoulder squeeze, then she pulled back and frowned with intent as much as her botox allowed. You shrugged off her silent don't-screw-this-up warning, already waving goodbye to her husband. Shoo shoo, you thought, sending the adults off to a far far away location. 

As soon as the door shut behind, you squealed in excitement. 

Summer had officially begun! 

Moving half across the country to fake “house sit” their new place while they honeymooned in Boca wasn't exactly what you had scheduled for your vacations. But when Youngnam accidentally let the words infinity pool and cars – as in with an S – slip out during the weekly video call, not even the dread on your mother’s face could’ve deterred you from flying over. 

As it turns out, Dr. Choi was loaded. 

Something you probably would’ve figured out earlier if you’d bothered showing up for the ceremony at all. Unfortunately, the wedding hadn't matched your Spring Break’ schedule and you decided having been present to the many previous ceremonies should be considered enough daughterly care for a lifetime. 

As you bent to the freezer for a celebratory parent-free popsicle, you felt the eyes of that gift-that-came-with-the-house glued to your ass. He briefly glanced down at the flash of your stomach’s skin when you jumped to sit on the counter. 

Surprisingly enough, your mother’s many rings had never once come with a step-brother before...

Usually, she went for the bachelor or womanizer types and those had the decency to never have baggage. Dr. Choi was a break of pattern and the news came with complete horror on your part.

For as long as you could, you had made a duty of never meeting his son, pretended he didn't even exist. So when the bubbly blended trio came to pick you up at the airport yesterday, you had been shocked.

They had said soloist of the local Choir and you’d heard; loser. Piano lessons? Dork. All-boys school graduate? Stuck-up. Computer Science Major? Nerd alert.

No one had talked about… That.

As a matter of fact, Choi Youngjae himself had not spoken much either, but he was certainly looking... 

And there were few things you enjoyed more than having a man's undivided attention.

Standing in the middle of the kitchen in all his glory, your new step-brother was staring, as usual, watching intently as you sucked your popsicle. You made sure to make a show of it.

“So… What about lunch?” He finally asked even though it was barely 9. Just to rattle him you hummed on the sugary treat as a reply. Mission accomplished. “S-Should I order pizza?”

“Don't worry, I’m easy...” Youngjae’s gaze fluttered down to your belly ring again. Boy, if he liked that one he had a few things coming. “I’ll eat anything if it's on you.”

Gaze widening, he pretended to look at something over in the living room and walked away.

Wait no, the poor guy literally bolted out of the kitchen to escape to safety. So fast one could wonder if this whole first exchange was the fruit of your devious imagination.

Oh no, you had just traumatized your babyish step-bro.

It made sense, you were one scary bitch.

All-boys school graduate? Virgin, you mentally took note. 

Or perhaps your mom had said something about you devouring the souls of poor innocent men. They said the apple never fell far from the tree. Grinning like a shark, you discarded the melting popsicle in the trash.

This promised to be one Hell of a summer break. 

______________________

“It’s been more than 10 minutes...” Chimlin flipped the phone over to yell unintelligibly at her demonic baby twin sisters. Despite the protection, you winced. “No DMs.”

“Then he hasn’t seen it yet.” Artlessly reporting for BFF’ duty was a lot more fun face to face, but for a few months, video calls would have to do. “Trust me.”

“I don't know,” she whined, going on all over again about how her boyfriend hadn’t picked up the phone since their nightly routine fight of yesterday. 

Sometimes you wondered if you’d even follow her back on Insta if you met this current sad version of herself. Kinda hard to tell, but she used to be the coolest baddest chick on campus. Then she was partnered with that Italian exchange student for a Statistic class, disgustingly dripping pheromones, cash and European pizzazz. Yes, Statistics. The most boring course ever, let's be real. But Chimlin was a genius, the deadly hot kind. No matter how shit-faced she was, that girl could track the B-52s and Gin Tonics’ calorie count of each respective member of your girl squad, not that she'd ever had to care herself.

Then Massimo came. At first, he was just a casual hook-up, but he managed to worm his way into her brain and grew there like a tumour. By the end of last semester, they were full-on steady-going together like in cringy 90s rom-coms. He was always stuck to her like a parasite.

Gone was your favourite 4 feet 11 party animal.

“Do you have any idea how many bitches Mas could meet this summer?”

You snorted, “Not even close to the number of dicks you could have in Pattaya if you wanted to.”

“Phatthaya,” she corrected automatically with a dramatic eye-roll. “That’s the thing, I don't want to. I only want one dick and he's miles away.” She waved her hand to brush it off right as your mouth opened in protest.

Her Italian barnacle did want to remain with her on campus for summer, but Chimlin thought she had better plans that involved a lot more beaches and fruity drinks. She simply couldn't live with her own poor life choices now and you were just about to tell her so when a flash of skin on the screen distracted you.  

“What else have you been hiding?” You sing-sang, impressed by the view. 

She glanced over her shoulder, “That's my uncle. Like... He’s literally my mom’s lil’ brother. Gross.”

“I know what an uncle is and that's a very hot one if I’ve ever seen one. You can look.”

“We’re not all depraved sluts like you.” She only half-teased with a sharp laugh. “How's the cute new brother doing, by the way?”

“No idea.” You flipped the camera and zoomed on Youngjae's bedroom window like to prove a point. The curtains were drawn, concealing anything worth mentioning from view. You were lounging by the pool on one of those fancy long chairs, much as you had been for the past week. Margarita, sunscreen, repeat. If this boring routine went on, you’d be so tanned by the end of summer no one on campus would recognize you. Sometimes you did think Youngjae's curtains were wobbling, maybe he was spying on you but it could all be your imagination. “Typical. He's been in hiding from me since day one.”

“I don't blame him.”

“Don't blame me for wanting him either. He's a good boy in a bad boy’s body.”

“I don't even know what that means...”

“No one does. But he's not cute, he's hot. I need him all over me and I've been telling him so, but he's strangely elusive. I think he hits the gym above the grocery store on the corner, I should join.”

“Stalker.”

“I don’t stalk, I live in his house.”

“No wonder the poor guy doesn't go out of that room, I bet he picked up on all your slutty energy.” In the rectangle screen, Chimlin switched to tan the other side and you did the same, laying on your back.

“Ha ha. He'd have to be moronic not to,” you were holding the phone above, casting a partial shadow on your face.

“Your legend precedes you. He's scared you're gonna trap and fuck him.”

“What else am I supposed to do when you've abandoned me and flew to the other side of the world? You know I need a summer project.”

“And of course, it had to be a guy.”

You were so glad she stopped whining about Mas for a minute that you let that one slide. “Well, I am not a needlepoint kind-of-girl.”

“Right, hey maybe it isn’t the incest that’s creeping your brother out. Maybe he's gay.”

Someone snorted out loud at that – not you – and you sat up in alarm.

Two guys were standing by the edge of the pool.

“No, he's not,” said the one on the left, a smile in his voice. They were directly in your sun, so you had trouble making out their features. One silhouette was slightly slumped, the other tall and all limbs. You suddenly felt very exposed, dropping Chimlin to fasten your bikini top in a hurry. This show wasn't for strangers to enjoy.

“Who are you?” The second man asked, clearly lost.

“She's it,” the other echoed.

“Who are you? I live here.”

“We're your brother's social life,” the frisky one smiled largely, kind of in a dangerous way that you immediately recognized for your own. Friends, they were Youngjae's friends and they very clearly overheard your embarrassing banter with Chimlin.

Flushing – a rare occurrence – you brought a hand to shield your eyes from the sun while you corrected; “Step-br–”

A sharp voice cut in, “She's not my sister.”

Behind, Youngjae was standing awkwardly by the patio door, a stern look on his face. He didn't seem surprised his people were there. He didn't even glance in your direction before disappearing back as you blankly stared after him. 

“Well, thank fuck,” the you-guy turned to wink, following him inside. “Good luck with your summer project! I’ll root for you!”

In a daze, you picked your phone back up. Chimlin was still there, waiting dilligently to be briefed on what just transpired. You puffed your cheeks, mentally preparing for what was to come.

______________________

Swear to God, Youngjae had not come out of that room for two days.

Two.

Fricking.

Days.

Maybe he had a fridge in there.

Maybe he only came to life after midnight like a vampire to avoid the whore squatting his dad’s house. 

Whatever his annoying friends told him had certainly made a lasting impression. You just hoped he wasn't the type to go cry to parents whenever something happened. You had no intention of going back to your tiny dorm all alone and sad for the summer just because you hurt his feelings by finding him bangable. Or worse, at your father's.

What was he even thinking?

You had not done anything wrong. Pushed a bad joke a little bit too far perhaps, nothing to get all worked up about. No reason to get shunned out of your mother's life again. 

Youngjae's reaction, or lack thereof, was way out of line.

It's not like you had actually done anything to him. He was such a prude. A prude that eye-fucked you all the time!

Church baby boys were the worst.

What an ass.

.

.

.

Three days?!

Three days of an overly empty house. The atmosphere had gotten so heavy, the air so tense you couldn't even think about anything else. There was nothing left to do. Just sit on the couch inside or by that dumb infinity pool, starring at the drawn curtains of your step-brother's bedroom. They weren't wobbling anymore.

Which was what you were actively doing this afternoon, ruminating your dark thoughts for hours. You didn't even notice you were getting dangerously warmer. When your timer went off, announcing it was sunscreen time again you nearly fell from your chair. 

Doing the legs was the easiest part, your favourite to be honest. They were one hell of an asset of yours. You were massaging the thick lotion on your right calf when something at the corner of your eye caught your attention. 

For a heartbeat or two, you thought you were hallucinating. 

Youngjae had finally reappeared. 

He was standing at the end of the pool, a knapsack thrown over his shoulders. His thumbs were hooked in the straps, hands dangling to his sides like dead weights. If he looked like a young boy at first glance, the heated look on his face was one of a man.

Frozen still, you gulped. True to form, he kept staring for a long moment before turning to the house and you thought he was about to go into hiding again – but oh no, fuck – he was actually pacing towards you. 

“I’m back.” Youngjae blurted out awkwardly, mouth twisted. 

Yours was opened in a mix of disbelief and shock. He was actually addressing you. “Back?” From where the corner store?

“Yes,” his eyes ghosted over your poor excuse of a bikini before anchoring themself back to safety in yours. Again, horny eyes. If you were warm earlier, now you were burning up. “I thought it'd be better if I stayed away at Bam's for a few days…”

Right? No one could actually stay between four walls so dilligently. It made sense. You were so dumb.

Apparently, your confusion was evident. “Didn’t you notice I was gone?” No, you had not. So your step-brother was so freaked out being around you that he actually moved out for a few days. Had you gotten that bad? Jesus. “Anyway, I’m back home with you now.” 

Youngjae took a step closer, kindly getting in your light so you'd stop squinting at him. He looked even hotter in the bright light of day, sweat pearled between your breasts. He frowned and bit his lower lip waiting for a reaction. The things you'd do to that perfectly proper mouth. 

Of course, what came out of yours at the moment was less than appropriate. He was right to be scared, you weren't safe at all.

“Wanna do me?”

Yes, you were that bad. Terrible indeed.

“Do I-I,” he gasped for air – oops, “w-what?”

“My back,” you clarified smiling like a prisoner that hadn't been fed a good meal in days, “sunscreen.” The poor man should've stayed far far away from you. 

You weren’t crazy or desperate, but you couldn't resist. You had been patient and unusually upright so far. You deserved a treat. You were hungry and you knew your step-brother wanted you too, he wouldn't have felt the need to hide away otherwise. Youngjae had an interesting duality, shamelessly thirsting over you one minute and getting flustered and embarrassed the next. He must have been deeply unsettled by your open invitation because before you could flip over, he had claimed possession of the bottle. 

Or maybe he just didn't need to be asked twice this time. He knew. He wanted to give in to temptation. Why would he even come back here otherwise? 

Laying down, you reached to undo the bikini strings, pressing your loosely covered chest against the rough towel on the chair. You waited.

“You must really hate tan lines,” Youngjae said in your back, sounding tormented, “it seems you're never properly wearing clothes.” He sat down in slow motion like an obedient little boy as you grinned. 

“Are you ever gonna put your hands on me?” You teased once more, it was like a string was tugging up your insides through that dirty mouth of yours. You wanted to keep pushing him, wanted to find out what it'd take to make him break. And just fuck you really. It was fighting the inevitable by now. 

Every guy you met wanted to have you.

Usually, you didn't have to beg.

“I'm trying not to,” he admitted the obvious. “I promised I would never touch you,” Youngjae grumbled and you jerked in surprise when lotion spurted on your lower back. “Promised my father I’d treat you well.”

It made sense, a good boy would never disobey and do his dirty step-sister. If your legend preceded you, his golden son’s reputation certainly did too. Honestly, this promise made the taunting easier and even more tempting. It made for a funnier challenge and the spark in Youngjae's eyes when he looked at you hinted you could break him if you really tried.

You were about to defy his ethics again when words went back down your throat, letting way to a sharp sigh. He had suddenly fully committed to applying your sunscreen, fingers exploring your skin. You asked to be touched and he had risen to the occasion, firmly rubbing the lotion on your naked back. 

Earlier you had every intention of teasing him further by enjoying this a little too much, but you weren’t sure it was entirely voluntary when the first moan escaped. If he wanted to keep it PG, he probably should’ve stopped right there, but it didn't seem to deter your step-brother. He kept going, massaging you along the way. His thumbs traced circles up your spine until one of his palms cupped your nape. 

Perhaps this is what an erotic massage was supposed to feel like, heaven. Every stroke was totally appropriate, very perfect boy-ish, but still, your toes were curling. After a few minutes, Youngjae's breathing was heavy, he was enjoying this impromptu contact just as much.

You both had made yourselves obvious these past weeks; him with the eye-fucking, you with the open-truths. Clearly, the forbidden nature of your desires would make for an even more intense experience. You couldn't even imagine how it'd feel to take it further now. 

“I've never had a step-brother before,” you mewled, mentally following the downwards path of his hands.

“I bet you love messing with me,” he replied, barely audible. 

His pianist’s fingers were now haltingly sliding up your ribcage. He wasn't rubbing in anything anymore, just caressing all he could reach. 

He was right, but you wanted more. That was the sexiest thing that happened to you in forever. Having a guy want you bad enough he had to hide away to resit, and now having his hands on you. You wanted him everywhere, all over. You didn’t care; step-brother promises or not.

Giving in to temptation, you turned around, resting on your elbow. Your untied bikini had not followed so you watched as his face fell in realization. Youngjae's mouth opened in awe, eyes glued to your bare perky breasts. At the moment, there was absolutely nothing going on in that male brain of his. He didn’t move; you helped.

As soon as you put one of his hands on your chest, he came back to life. 

“Jesusfuck,” he breathed out, completely winded.

Wow.

Church baby boys were the best.

Entertained, you reached for the sunscreen, pouring lotion on yourself again. “You aren't done.”

“I…” Youngjae swallowed back his protests, cupping your boobs with both hands. He couldn't even look up anymore, enthralled by your nakedness.

No matter what their intentions were, it seemed good guys were still guys after all. If you had known he was this easy to overwhelm, you would’ve walked around topless sooner.

“The neighbours will see us...”

He didn't seem to mind that much, seeing as his thumbs were stroking your pierced nipples relentlessly. If those middle-aged housewives you only caught glimpses off looked over the edge now, they’d have a pretty impressive show. 

“Let them,” sitting, you snaked a hand to his dramatic bulge. Your mouths got so close you felt his breath ghost over. Beaten by your expertise, his shorts’ button came undone first, his fly was even more compliant. 

The moment of truth.

Youngjae's whole body shook when you took his cock in your palm. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing. Fuck, he was so hard and flushed for you. He pinched your erected nipples in response and you felt a familiar vivid jolt of pleasure and pain down to your toes. Not a virgin, after all, no doubt he would handle you just fine. 

You pressed your mouth to his neck and sucked, right where his Adam's apple bobbed.

That's it, all for you. You were so going to eat up that good boy.

“Mmmm, I’ll tell daddy you’re treating me so fucking well...”

Of all the filthy things you had said so far, this was the one that got the strongest reaction. The wrong one. Youngjae jerked up to his feet, tugging at his shorts in panic. He swore a dozen of times, out of his mind as you stood there, frozen still.

“Sorry,” he offered at last, pitiful before running for his life to the house. 

Fuck.

No.

Surely you were feverish. 

Having a heatstroke.

You had imagined the whole thing.

You had not just being left out cold by a man.

This type of shit never happened to girls like you. 

It took a few minutes to gather back your thoughts and when you did, you decided this wasn't even close to completion.

Without wasting a second more you stormed inside the house, almost flying upstairs to that mythical off-limits bedroom of his. You didn't bother banging, he was in such a hurry he forgot to lock behind, so the door flew open. 

Like a scene straight up from a bad porno, Youngjae spun on his computer chair, a hand still wrapped around his fully erected dick. You couldn't believe your eyes.

“Are you jerking off?” He was already pulling up his shorts again to cover himself, caught red-handed, blushing as though you hadn't been doing it yourself a moment ago.

“I’m sorry, I don't think you–”

“Please don't stop on my behalf,” you waltzed in, confident, and sat on his well-made good boy's bed.

“W-What?” Youngjae blinked, even more, rattled by the sight. 

He didn't leave because he didn't want you, he clearly did. He probably only left because of his father and that dumb promise he mentioned.

“Is this how you've been dealing all along?” You laid back on the comforter, smirking and remembering all those afternoons by the pool you’d thought you’d seen his curtains fall. He certainly enjoyed spying so it gave you an idea. He could try to resist you all he wanted, you'd still made him cave. “You don't want to touch me, right?” Your step-brother nodded, spellbound. “Because you're the perfect son.”

He swallowed hard, “But you keep… Saying those things, sunbathing… And to my friends...”

“Yes, you’re right... So let's start over.” You sighed in fake contrition, “I'm sorry, I've made this so hard for you. I’ll be good too from now on.”

Youngjae scoffed in disbelief, “You are sitting topless on my bed.”

“Oh,” looking down at yourself, you cupped your breasts. “I thought you liked the looking.” His cock was standing up, glorious testimony to this mess. “Don't worry, I get it. I promise I won’t let you touch me...” Throwing your head back without breaking eye contact, you moaned and lightly twisted one of your pierced nipples. “But I’ll make you watch...” Out of his mind, Youngjae did just that as you caressed your own chest for him. Somehow his eyes on you now burned even better than his hands earlier. 

You were so turned on, so worked up by all the days of teasing and loneliness. Your hips started swaying on his bed, craving some fiction and release. 

“You're crazy,” his voice was laboured but he had yet to escape again. This time you wouldn't have followed.

“I-I'm so wet, Youngjae...” Giving in, your right hand fell to your sex, rubbing your last piece of clothing. He was captivated. 

“Fuck it,” he immediately breathed out in surrender, hand wrapping around his dick. That was it, you finally had him. He was all in, playing along with your new favourite family game.

No touching, just innovative teamwork.

You had to establish ground rules, but pushing them was what fun was all about.

“I want you so bad...” You mewled, slipping your middle finger inside your bikini bottom.

Stroking himself, Youngjae groaned, “So you’ve been saying baby, but now you have to show me.”

Oh shit. You were going to come so fast if the golden son had other surprises like that. In a hurry, you wormed out of your panties before he could change his mind once more. In front of his fully clothed self, you laid back, touching your damp slit while he observed intently. The whole experience was surreal, your mind was buzzing, overwhelmed by the wrongness of it all.

It felt so amazing though.

Touching yourself for your step-brother was the sexiest thing you’d ever experienced, and you were very accomplished. You would’ve done anything he'd asked of you, and Youngjae knew that but he abided by his dumb rules. Standing up he came closer, boxer messily shoved down from his earlier haste, one hand was in his hair, the other working hard. You kept rubbing your clit repeatedly letting him see, hastening the pace until you were numb all over, panting. 

“Youngj-jae, I-I–”

Moaning, you broke faster than you had ever with someone, then again no one knew how to make you reach your own high better than yourself. Paroxysm made your thighs jerked as the pleasure waved through you, annihilating all sense of your surroundings.

When you came back, your step-brother was giving up too, bursting in thick spurts of hot cum all over your body and chest. His eyes were wide opened in black elation, intense, not missing a second of the show as he came on you. His whitish-gray seed painted your bareness in ribbons until he was completely emptied.

In silence, Youngjae dropped next to you on the bed, hands covering his face as you both caught your breaths. His now softening dick was still protruding out of his shorts and underwear for the world to see. It probably made for quite a view; your naked body covered in semen right by your respectable step-brother’s way more humble cock.

If your parents came home early, they would both have a stroke.

Youngjae sort of kept his word though... For today at least. 

Because now that you had him all over, you knew you were going to crave him under you.

And no man had ever resisted your charms before.

Step-brother or not.

[The Pleasure Chest: A Cringe Fest]

GOT7 | M.list

#Choi Youngjae #GOT7 #Choi Youngjae Smut #GOT7 Smut #Youngjae GOT7 #Choi youngjae Fic #Choi Youngjae FLuff #GOT7 Sic #GOT7 Fluff #GOT7 Scenarios #GOT7 x reader #Choi Youngjae x reader #got7 imagines #GOT7 drabbles #Romance #cute #fluff #nope #smut #lol #Sun-drenched #the pleasure chest #Choi Youngjae Scenarios #Choi Youngjae Drabbles #Choi Youngjae imagiens

[painless-innit-colourful]

‘Weeping Headstones - Prologue’

The beginning of a Doctor Who AU I’ll never finish: Tommy and Tubbo are all set to hang out and go stargazing when- Well, they never can get a bit of peace, can they? Feat. some suspicious statues in the shape of Weeping Angels...

It promises to be a beautiful starry night. That’s what Foolish apparently told Tubbo earlier that day as he hung around Snowchester. Tommy doesn’t know how he knows that or how far he trusts it to be true, but if he’s right, he’s glad Tubbo’ll be here to spend it with him. It’s been a good week or so since they’ve had the chance to go stargazing; between bad weather, Tubbo’s responsibilities in Snowchester, Tommy’s new hotel project and yesterday’s nuke test, they’ve both been rather busy lately.

Just the thought of it makes him clear his throat on reflex, and it brings a smile to his lips. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t have radiation poisoning. Like, eighty percent. Okay, maybe he should’ve been more careful, but since he and Tubbo emerged from Dream’s creepy-ass vault with their lives Tommy’s been feeling rather indestructible. Not to bring Hamilton back into it, but he couldn’t seem to die. Besides, they had medicine, he hadn’t been accidentally hit by a nuke, and Dream was in the prison. Nothing could possibly pose him any threat right now.

As if to immediately prove him wrong, there’s a sharp ‘TWANG’ from only a few feet behind him, accompanied by a sharp whistle of air. Tommy’s reflexes from fighting a dozen wars and never knowing who to trust kick in, and he sinks down on the bench as an arrow sails through the empty space where his head just was. He has no armour and only a random sword on him: on the other hand, it’s just a skeleton. He draws his sword, dropping to one knee using the bench as a shield. The skeleton stands on the path outside his house, nocking another arrow on its bow. Tommy takes advantage of that brief moment, vaulting the side of the bench to run at the skeleton. He lands one hit on the wretched thing’s shoulder when he hears a familiar hiss from behind him to the right. He lets out a cry of surprise and swings in a wide arc, striking the creeper that had also snuck up on him and sending it back a couple metres or so. He scrambles back in the direction of L’Manberg, watching as the creeper shuffles forward and the skeleton fires a lazy shot to the side of it.

“You okay?” Tubbo sticks his head out of Tommy’s doorway, obviously alerted by Tommy’s surprised squeaking. “Nothing I can’t handle.” He says quickly, darting forward and delivering a second strike to the creeper, sending it reeling back again. Tubbo appears to disregard his statement, levelling a loaded crossbow at the skeleton and pinging a bolt off its skull. It makes a dull thudding sound and leaves a sizable dent. Tubbo reloads again, but the skeleton shoots first. Tommy doesn’t even need to dodge, as the arrow sticks in the creeper with a sound like someone stepping on a stick of TNT - don’t ask how he knows what that sounds like. There’s another hollow thud as Tubbo cracks another bolt off the skeleton’s body, and the magic holding its bones together disintegrates along with its form.

“We can call that one a team effort.” Tubbo shoots him a wink and goes to retreat back inside when he’s stopped by a small gasp from Tommy. He turns back, “What is it?” The blonde boy is sifting delicately through the pile of ash left by the creeper, revealing a round of black shellac like a palaeontologist uncovering a precious fossil. Neither boy can suppress the grin that forms. “Which is it?” Tubbo asks, and Tommy lifts up the disc to show the red centre. “Blocks again.” He leans back and gets to his feet. “You want it?”

“Sure.” Tommy passes it to Tubbo with a gentleness reserved only for discs and injured friends, and Tubbo gives him a genuine smile as he goes to put it in his ender chest. As he carefully puts it away, a warm feeling spreads through him. Contentment. He keeps an ear out for any more Tommy mishaps.

The boy in question is currently messing with the jukebox, resetting Cat since it had stopped playing since his encounter with the skeleton-creeper duo. The familiar synth melody begins to play, and Tommy’s about to recline back on his bench when he hears a series of small crashing noises, like someone’s dropped a frying pan down a flight of stairs. Furthermore, the noise came from the opposite direction to his house. He looks in the direction of the downtown SMP but sees nothing- No, wait.

Sticking just above the footpath is the top of a head. Someone’s crouched on the Prime Path stairs up to his house, and they’re watching him. Tommy maintains eye contact while getting up, going for a staring contest to psyche them out, whoever they are; he hasn’t figured that part out yet. They’ve got grey hair and a very stony gaze that turns his stomach over, but apart from that, he can’t make out anything since their body is out of his sightline. He makes his way over, head whirling with thoughts. Is this the apparently infamous Addison Rae??

Tubbo’s communicator buzzes unexpectedly. He yanks the microphone down to his mouth with two fingers, hands full of cr*p from Tommy’s chests. “Tubbooooo…” From the sound of Tommy’s voice, he’s making a regretful face and has just done something stupid. “On a scale of one to started a war, how bad is it?” A loud sigh is transmitted through the headphones in regrettably crisp quality. “Different scale. This is like that time I mistook a scarecrow for an attractive woman.” Tubbo sniggers. “What happened?”

“I feel like a foolish man, Tubbo.” “What did you do?” “I thought someone was watching me from the stairs, right? But it’s just this creepy-ass statue.” He plows through Tubbo’s giggles, kicking the statue with his foot in irritation. Part of its arm goes with it. “I’m being trolled with an oversized garden gnome.” “Weird. What’s it look like?” “It’s- It kinda looks like it belongs in a graveyard actually. It’s an angel, but its hands are on the stairs and everything, like it crawled up here to get me.” “Ah yes, angels. The most terrifying of monsters.” “I’m gonna ask Foolish if there’s a family relation-” “Oh god don’t-” “Or if I can kick it off the stairs like the other one. There’s a broken one down there.” He relayed, peering down at a pile of grey limbs and ash on the ground far below.

“I say pay it no mind. I’m nearly done.” Tubbo passes on, dumping an armful of saplings into a corner of the appropriate chest, inventively named ‘nature sh*t’. “How long does it take to find drugs in my chests? If it’s that hard, we have a serious problem, and not just with your eyesight.” Tommy complains, putting on a show of frustrated gestures to no one as he makes his way back to the bench. He flops down, ignoring the acute feeling of being watched sourcing from the statue on the stairs. “Tommy, looking in your chests is like trying to find the button in Pogtopia.” The blonde boy sits up straight, his back cracking in several places. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Tommy can hear the smile in Tubbo’s voice the next time he speaks. “Lot of stuff that looks about right, but none of it actually does what you want it to.”

Tubbo hears the beginning of a reply masked with an undignified splutter, and he’s about to shoot something back first when the scream rips the sarky comment out of his mouth. He sprints up Tommy’s stairs and throws himself out the door, crossbow levelled… But there’s nothing there. Also, there’s no Tommy.

Panic starts to rise. He scours the immediate area, peering over the edge of the hill, along the path towards the hotel, all the way to the stairs down to L’Manberg, checking the houses opposite Tommy’s and down the stairs where Tommy said the angel statue was. And while there’s a broken pile of stone far below as he described… Whatever Tommy saw on the stairs is gone. 

There’s no time to worry about that.  “Tommy!”  His thoughts race. What could’ve happened?  The wind starts to pick up, and it brings a whirring sound only just obscured by the dying strains of Cat.  “Tommy?! C’mon man, this isn’t funny!”  It can’t have been a mob, there was nothing there. There’s no one else in the area; even so, Tubbo loads his crossbow and keeps it handy. He hasn’t been killed: there’s no blood and no body.

Could Dream have escaped the prison?

The thought sends a chill through him, rivalled only by a frigid Snowchester morning. Tommy hasn’t told him, properly, about his exile yet. There’s still a lot of leftover feelings involved for both of them. Even so, it’s plain to see: Dream hurt Tommy in ways neither of them had dealt with before: ways they should never have to deal with. If Dream were to get out of Pandora’s Vault and then go for Tommy before anyone could warn them…

Tubbo has his phone out and is halfway through typing Sam’s number when a small noise behind him causes his danger sense to start blaring like a nuclear siren. He turns, standing near Tommy’s door again, just in time to see a figure pass overheard, leaping from the roof of Tommy’s house and landing ahead of him. The figure makes a beeline for the bench, or more accurately the jukebox, and Tubbo watches dumbfounded as the figure lifts Cat from where it’s playing with practised ease and places it into their coat. The mystery thief is facing the wrong way for Tubbo to see their face, but he does take note of the pink hair tied back in a small ponytail, the ruby-red, fur-lined cloak and the sturdy boots leaving tread marks in the grass before they hop over the edge of the hill. He runs forward to perhaps get a shot in as they escape, only to be met with an empty landscape and the beginnings of a very pretty sunset.

He drops his phone to his side, jaw slack and nerves shaking. Someone’s trolling him and Tommy by moving an angel statue around. Then Tommy suddenly vanishes with a scream. And the icing on the absolute disaster cake: a possibly very powerful enemy’s just made off with one of the discs.

“Oh, f*ck me.”

#do you know how long i've had this sitting in my google drive #since February #and it's june now!! (i keep forgetting how far through the year we are) #anyway i lost motivation for this but why not show off what i have? #who knows #maybe one day... #dream smp #crim writes #tommyinnit #tubbo #clingy duo #dsmp fic

[xmagicxshopx]

Spring Cleaning - Chapter 4

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Comedy Rating: PG - M ( future smut ) Warnings: None in this chapter Pairing: personal assistant!jungkook x ceo!reader Notes: AU fic. Not idol!jungkook. Single quote marks ‘ ‘ are for thoughts and double “ “ are for talking. Additional Notes: This chapter may seem like a filler but I think it’s important for character development since Kook and reader are spending time together and getting to know each other~

Tagging: @deolly​ @katebacks​

Summary: Your mother built you to be a thriving business machine. However, in her old age, she’s growing soft and wants grand kids to spoil. Your home and yard are a mess due to your busy schedule. So your mother attempts to kill two birds with one stone.

MASTERLIST || CH 1 || CH 2 || CH 3 

“Good night, Mr. Jeon.”

“Good night, Miss. Kwon.”

Last night had ended just as the night before. Only......it hadn’t? As he laid there in bed staring at the ceiling but not really seeing it, he let the events of last night play back in his mind’s eyes. You had told him that you were going to call off work tomorrow.....which would mean today. You----The workaholic who literally worked till she dropped, was going to take a day off??? It almost seemed too good to be true. Yet here he was, another morning rolling around and this time.....he wouldn’t have to watch you leave for work at the ass crack of dawn. It was Monday so normally you’d be getting up and getting ready for work.

“She seemed to really like breakfast yesterday. Perhaps I’ll see if she’s up and I can make more for her.”

Changing into a simple over sized t-shirt and some sweats, he made his way out of his room and instantly noticed the smell of coffee filling the house. Hmm......Well he knew that could have only came from one person. You. So it would seem you were already up. Not surprising but hopefully you’d still be somewhere around here and not having lied to him. Now that he had time to process everything, he was genuinely looking forward to you staying home today.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he reached the bottom in nothing flat. Subconsciously ruffling and fluffing his shaggy long locks, he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw not only you sitting at the dining table sipping on coffee, but your mother too. Well dang.

“Jungkookieeee! Darling! It’s so good to see you! Come! Have some coffee with us!”

While he had managed to keep professional eye contact with your mother, he was pretty sure he could see you visibly cringe out of the corner of his eye and he couldn’t help but internally snicker. Your mother was quite......obvious with her intentions still despite everything. However, he offered a warm and friendly smile before saying casually in a light and happy tone,

“I’d love to, Mrs. Kwon. Thank you.”

Of course she motioned for him to sit next to you and who was he to defy your mother??? Trying to keep a straight face and not grin like a moron, he took the seat next to you and decided to sneak a glance your way. You seemed to be texting someone at a rate that not even he could keep up with. If the look of deep concentration was anything to go by, he decided it was best not to say anything to you till you were done.

“How do you like your coffee, my dear?”

“Oh just black is fine, Mrs. Kwon.”

“Ugh. Gross. You’re just like my daughter. You two need more sweetness in your lives. Some sugar and cream. Lots of cream.”

Thank god he hadn’t actually took a drink from his mug yet or else he would have choked just as he nearly had on the noodle from his soup last night. What was it with these Kwon women??? Always full of surprises it would seem. After cautiously taking a sip of his coffee, he glanced over to see what your reaction had been but you simply kept typing furiously away on your phone.

“So what brings you over so early in the morning, Mrs. Kwon? Is everything alright?”

“Oh I just happened to get a frantic text from my poor Jiminnie this morning. Something about how my daughter might be in trouble because she was calling off work today. So I rushed right over.”

However, the tone that your mother spoke in was anything but worried. In fact, her voice just happened to be dripping in amusement. Something that the male instantly caught on to. Taking another sip of his coffee, he noticed you grumbling as you finally put your phone down. Goodness. Weren’t your thumbs about to fall off?

“I still don’t think it’s that big of a shock. I’m taking a day away from the office. So what???”

The table grew silent while you huffed and took a sip of your now stone cold coffee. Oh well. That was okay. It would be cold like your soul as you thought to yourself. Even though your mother liked to pick on you, even she knew now wasn’t a good moment to poke fun at your statement. While Jungkook hadn’t known you for very long, less than a week in fact, he knew enough not to comment either. It was then that your mother decided to break the tense silence as she cleared her throat and asked casually,

“So what are the plans for today, my darlings?”

That was a good question. What were your plans??? Now that you weren’t sitting there texting Jimin an entire playbook on how to run a company for just. one. day., you finally had some time to think about what you wanted to do with this time away from the office. The growling of your stomach gave you the first idea.

Grocery shopping. Ah yes. You were supposed to do that with Jungkook sometime soon. So that way he could fix food he knew you would actually like instead of just guessing. Hearing a soft chuckle over next to you, you glanced over to see Jungkook smiling to himself in amusement and delight as he silently got up from his chair before padding over to the kitchen and announcing happily,

“Mrs. Kwon, you should stay for breakfast. My treat.”

“Why thank you, dear! Mr. Jeon has quite the manners. Doesn’t he, sweetheart?”

“Absolutely selfless, he is.”

Your tone was one of a deadpanned as you silently grumbled while sipping on your ice cold coffee. You could practically feel the male snickering behind you while he shared a look of amusement with your mother. Two against one. How unfair. While Jungkook went about fixing breakfast for the three of you, your mother pipped up about how it would be a good idea to start making a list of all the groceries you’d need.

It kind of reminded you of the days where she was training you to be her successor. The one to take her place in the company that she had held so dearly once upon a time. But now it was almost like your mother was teaching you how to be a normal human being again. Honestly, it wasn’t far from the truth. You didn’t know it, but your mother felt incredibly guilty for having turned you into such a workaholic. A soul who was alive but not actually living.

As he stood there in the adjoining kitchen cutting up peppers to put in the fried potatoes, he couldn’t help but watch you and your mother at the dining table. It all felt so.......domestic? The real question was.....how did that make him feel? The initial feeling was that he liked it. But should he? This was supposed to be a job and a job only for him. Cooking, cleaning, being your personal assistant so that you could focus on your company and not have to worry about life at home so much.

So then why did it feel like he was fixing breakfast for his girlfriend and his potential mother-in-law???

Shaking his head a bit to clear it, he continued working on breakfast and decided to listen in on your conversation. Perhaps focusing on tasks such as grocery shopping would help distract him from these odd thoughts and feelings that were bubbling inside his chest and confusing his brain.

It seemed like in no time at all, a western omelet fit for royalty had been placed on three plates as well as Jungkook coming up with his own little healthy touch of fruit salad as a small side dish for each of them as they all three sat at the dining table. But not before the male had kindly offered to refill their coffee mugs. Needless to say, your mother was glowing while you were brooding.

“My my my. I’m going to have to come over for breakfast more often! I could get used to this!”

“You want him? You can have him.”

Having quickly become used to your sour humor, your words didn’t phase Jungkook a bit. As for your mother, however, she still lightly scolded you for being so rude to someone who had just slaved over a hot stove to make you breakfast. If your mother only knew. Jungkook thrived in the kitchen and being a slave was the last thing he felt like right now.

“It’s quite alright, Mrs. Kwon. I take no offense to it. Please do enjoy your breakfast before it gets cold.”

Wow. When your mother was all feather ruffled and huffy and puffy......it made the two of you look so much alike. There was no denying that you two were blood related. In that moment, Jungkook learned that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. It was actually kind of cute, really. Thankfully, your mother took his encouraging words and ran with it as she finally took the first bite of the best omelet she had ever had.

Aside from the occasional bickering between you and your mother, breakfast was actually quite lovely. If it hadn’t been for looking over the grocery list the two of you had made up, Jungkook would have started feeling all domestic again and that wasn’t what he needed right now. He needed to stay focused on his job and be just your personal assistant. Nothing more and nothing less.

‘Stay focused, Jeon.’

Once breakfast was over and Mrs. Kwon insisted on helping load the dishwasher, you had made the announcement that you’d be heading upstairs to shower before accompanying your assistant to the grocery store. Both your mother and said assistant simply nodded with smiles that were nearly identical in mischief. This only caused you to narrow your eyes suspiciously at them before huffing and heading upstairs. Still not fair.

“You know, Jungkookie, there’s a carnival in town this week. Perhaps you and my daughter might wish to go?”

Dang. Your mother wasn’t going to make his latest internal struggle any easier, was she? At first, he really hadn’t minded her obvious attempts at match making. However, now that he was starting to feel these odd domestic type feelings, it was becoming much more difficult to shrug them off as just all-in-good-fun teasing.

“A carnival sounds like a lot of fun, Mrs. Kwon. Would you like to join in if we go?”

There. Maybe if he could try to turn the tables a bit, it might make him feel a little less self-conscious. While he appreciated your mother’s enthusiasm and confidence in his ability to please you, Jungkook was in no shape to be someone’s love interest. For several reasons. Reasons that he really didn’t care to think about right now.

“Oh my no. I wouldn’t want to intrude. But I think my daughter needs to get out more and she seems to listen to you better than she does me. So perhaps you could convince her to go, hmm?”

Well that didn’t work. At all. He should have known better, honestly, but it had been worth a shot. After assuring the woman that he would at least try to run the idea by you, that seemed to be enough to satisfy her and she proceeded to insist that she could handle the dishes if he too wanted to wash up before heading to the grocery store.

With that, he nodded and headed up the stairs to take a quick shower and make himself decent for the task at hand. While in the shower, it felt anything but quick as he got lost in thoughts. Thoughts of you and your mother and how he felt about having breakfast with the two of you. It was nice. Really nice. But he was probably just overthinking it. He had a tendency to do that with things that confused him.

After getting all washed up and towel drying his shaggy mop of hair, he then proceeded to comb and dry said mop. Honestly, he felt he looked more mature with long hair but dang was it a hassle to take care of. Once his dark locks were perfectly quaffed, he dressed in a light yellow button up shirt tucked into a pair of ripped skinny jeans.

There we go. Not too dressy but not too casual. Spritzing on some cologne his father got him for his birthday last year, he checked himself in the mirror one more time before determining he looked good and professional. He could only imagine how his best friend from Busan Jimin felt. Having to wear a monkey suit day in and day out being your real assistant.

If only you knew that him and Jimin knew each other. That your personal assistant and company assistant were childhood best friends from Busan. For some reason, he just didn’t have the desire to tell you yet. That was something else he couldn’t quite explain. Why exactly did he want to keep it a secret? What did he have to gain by keeping the information from you? There he goes again, thinking way too much.

‘Get your butt out there, Jeon. They’re probably waiting on you.’

After giving himself a small pep talk in the bathroom mirror to just act natural and that he’s on business as your personal assistant, he took one last deep breath and exhaled slowly before bracing himself and heading out of his room to truck downstairs. He could do this. He could do this. This is a business trip to stock your home with food that he will eventually cook for you. Just business. Just busin----

Wow.

He was beginning to think he was going to be the next poor sap stuck in a monkey suit if this was how you always dressed to go grocery shopping.

Pointed toed heels that looked more like weapons rather than footwear. And dang did you look dangerous in that pantsuit. Keeping it classic. Black. Pitch black. Not to mention how it hugged your body in all the right ways. For a woman who either didn’t eat at all or ate nothing but take-out, you still had a gorgeous figure. Or maybe he was just biased???

Your hair was pulled back in what appeared to be the most tight knit bun he had ever seen. In fact, just looking at it was giving him a headache. Maybe if you didn’t have your hair up so tightly all the time, you wouldn’t be so grumpy. But he wasn’t about to tell you that. He’d like to keep all his body parts attached, thanks. Seriously......those heels could poke someone’s eye out.

“You ready to head out, Mr. Jeon? Mother has offered to watch the place while we’re out.”

“Absolutely, Miss. Kwon.”

“You two enjoy the shopping trip and I’ll just be here monitoring the dishwasher and maybe dust here and there a bit. I’ll make sure Jimin holds down the fort at the company as well. Just go and enjoy yourselves!”

Well.....as enjoyable as grocery shopping could be, anyhow. With an obvious eye roll, you simply snapped your fingers and started moving to the door, heels making clacking sounds loud enough to wake the dead. Given the fact that your floors switched back and forth between hardwood and marble. God didn’t your feet hurt in those things??? Weren’t your toes squished???

It was when the two of you finally got outside and was swinging by the garage that he realized it had never been discussed who’s vehicle they’d be taking. But judging from your confident steps towards your sleek black Hyundai Palisade, it would appear that you were driving. He shouldn’t have been surprised, honestly. It made perfect sense. With his truck, he didn’t have much space in the backseats and he highly doubted the bed of a truck was sanitary for food to be packed into.

You had already climbed into the driver’s seat by the time he got to the passenger side. He was no psychologist, but from the short amount of time he had spent with you thus far, he could tell one thing.......You liked being in control. Of everything. Wordlessly climbing into the passenger seat, he got himself buckled in and watched you start the vehicle before the two of you were finally out of the garage and on your way to the grocery store.

“Okay. The job is simple. We get the list out, buy everything on the list, pay for it, and get out of here.”

Jungkook expected nothing less from you so he simply smiled and gave you a thumbs up before climbing out of the car. The ride to the store had been silent as the grave and he wasn’t about to ruin that. It was an odd peaceful kind of silence even if he could feel your mild agitation radiating from you in the driver’s seat. If this had truly been your first day off from the company in---like---ever, then he could understand how tense you might be feeling. You probably felt like a new mother letting go of her new born baby for the first time since giving birth.

Walking into the store, you immediately pulled your phone out to bring up your electronic list. While you did that, Jungkook took it upon himself to be your assistant and took a disinfectant wipe from the public dispenser and cleaned down the bar handle of one of the carts from the docking area. With list ready and a cart set to go, the two of you made your way to the first section of the store. The fruits and vegetables.

So far so good. You were being very cooperative and well-behaved during the whole trip. A nice change from the first time the two of you went to the store together. Perhaps because you were working. You actually had a task that you needed to complete. Again, Jungkook was no psychologist, but he was pretty sure if you weren’t working, you just simply didn’t know how to act. Which was kind of, sort of, really sad.

“Okay so we’ve taken care of the fruits, vegetables, meats. Now what?”

“Well if we’re going to have stir fry one night this week, we’re going to need some rice. Let’s head there next.”

There he goes again. That feeling bubbling up in his chest again and filling his stomach with butterflies. Dang it. He had been doing so good too. But watching you retrieve items here and there, sometimes needing his help because the items were too high up, it all felt so.......domestic. That word just kept floating around in his head. It felt like the two of you had decided to go to the grocery store after work. Discussing dinners ahead of time and all that. Gah he was going to go insane!

You, on the other hand, were having a hard time focusing but for other reasons. Your assistant was dressed quite nicely today despite the lack of professionalism. While you approved of the yellow button up, the skinny jeans were a bit too casual for your liking. Or maybe you just didn’t like how well they hugged his thighs? Nah. It was just too casual for you. Yeah. That was it. That had to be the reason. Maybe next time you’d make a comment about dressing more appropriately for the job. But today you’d let it slide.

He smelled really nice too. You briefly wondered what cologne he uses when you realized that you couldn’t reach a box of pasta for Italian Nights. Without even having to ask, you could feel a huge warm body coming up behind you that smelled just like your assistant. Sure enough, Jungkook extended his long arm and easily plucked the box of pasta from the shelf before flashing you a bright bunny-like smile and handing it over to you.

“Here you are, Miss. Kwon.”

“Thank you, Mr. Jeon. I appreciate it. Now you know one of the reasons why I don’t go grocery shopping in the first place.”

Wow. Did you just crack a joke??? He was pretty sure you did. Or at least tried to. Smiling and feeling more at ease knowing that you were starting to ease up a bit, he continued to push the cart that only kept getting heavier and heavier as the two of you walked down the aisles. The rest of the trip went mostly in silence aside from the small discussion of price comparing here and the task of picking out the least beaten up box there.

It seemed like in no time at all, the two of you were heading up to the register and placing the items down for scanning and payment. This process too went mostly in silence but, again, it was peaceful. An unspoken agreement that there didn’t need to be words exchanged in order to check out their groceries. This was a job, after all. He needed to stay professional.

Thank goodness you had brought your vehicle instead of his because he wasn’t sure if even the bed of his truck would have held all these groceries. After Jungkook insisting that he do all the packing and storing into the vehicle, being that he was your assistant and all, you took this opportunity to send a quick text to Jimin asking him how things were going before shooting your mother a text informing her that the two of you were on your way home now.

“I think that was a very successful trip, don’t you think, Miss. Kwon?”

“It wasn’t as bad as I had initially thought it would be. Although I don’t remember groceries being so pricey. Then again.....it has been awhile.”

While you spoke in your professional tone, it still made him smile to hear you yet again trying to poke fun at your own self. You were lightening up. Even if only just a little. Progress was progress no matter how small. That’s how he looked at it. With the both of you in the vehicle once more with the back plum full of food, you put it in gear and started the trip back home.

“Thank you for helping me with the groceries, Mr. Jeon. I feel our next task should be shopping for items such as cleaning supplies and toiletries. Not just for myself, but for you as well. My home is your home now.”

Dang. Maybe there was something in that chicken soup he made last night that he didn’t know about. Or maybe all you needed was some real sleep and rest in order to feel a little bit better and a little less moody. Not only did you just thank him, but you said your home was his home. You were certainly giving him whiplash with your crazy mood swings.

“And after that, we should focus on the grounds of the estate. Compile that list of tools and equipment you’ll need and we will make another trip out.”

“Will that trip be today, Miss. Kwon? Don’t forget, we need to eat lunch soon.”

“Probably not today. We’ll run out of time. Because this afternoon, after lunch, we’ll make a run to the store for items such as the cleaning supplies and any toiletries I’ve failed to stock up on. But again, we’re shopping for you too. So purchase anything you need while we’re there. It won’t come out of your paycheck so don’t worry about that.”

“Thank you for your kindness and generosity, Miss. Kwon. I greatly appreciate it. I will do my very best to make this arrangement worth your time and money.”

While you knew what the poor man was referring to, it still sent your mind straight to the gutter. Trying not to snicker or, rather, trying not to snicker too noticeably, you found yourself finally pulling into the driveway of your huge estate and pressing the button that would open the garage door. Once the car was parked, you turned it off and sported a smug smile while taking your seat belt off as you said casually yet teasingly,

“Be careful, Mr. Jeon. Anyone who didn’t know any better might think your intentions are anything but pure.”

At first he didn’t get it. Those doe eyes of his blinking at you in confusion as you smirked and got out of the vehicle, but not before popping the trunk and unlocking all the doors and heading inside the house. Anything but pure??? Why would you say that? It almost sounded like you were trying to say he was.......OH!! Instantly, he could feel the heat sprout all over his face and down his neck and even to the tips of his ears. It spread like a wildfire as he quickly climbed out of the passenger seat.

He would never do that to you! Never ever! He was a good man! Suddenly needing to pop the top button of his yellow dress shirt, the poor boy managed to resist as he tried his very best to focus on the task at hand which was to pack the groceries into the house. Oh god! Your mother was in there!

‘Heavenly Father, please give me the strength to deal with these Kwon women!’

After saying the quick prayer and doing his very best to calm himself down, he cleared his throat and began taking bags into both of his arms. Given his muscular physique, it was super easy for him to pack several bags on both arms. Unbeknownst to him, he was getting payback as you came back around the corner of the garage to help him.

Muscles. Lots and lots of muscles. Bulging muscles. You had to stop yourself right on the spot as you had just came from informing your mother that the two of you were back from the shopping trip and would need some help packing the groceries in. First of all, you weren’t quite sure why you felt the need to help since it was Jungkook’s job as your assistant to do this stuff and he would normally be doing all of this by himself anyway while you were at work.

Secondly, why were you still standing there eyeing him up like a piece of meat??? Perhaps it was because of the.......dry spell.....you had found yourself in recently. Yeah. That was probably it. You were just horny. Sexually frustrated. Yeah. That was it. Pulling yourself together just in time for Jungkook to turn around, you managed to plaster that confident smirk from earlier back on your face as you gave him a curt nod only to watch his face flush pink all over again.

“Oh my, Jungkookie! You look flushed! And no wonder from packing all those bags. Here. Let me help you.”

“It’s quite alright, Mrs. Kwon. I got this. But if it wouldn’t be too much to ask, may I have a bottle of water?”

“Absolutely, my dear boy! Anything for you!”

The male was grateful that your mother was so easily distracted. Not to mention he could really use that bottle of water right now. He needed something to cool himself down. That smirk you had worn was just a little too much for him right now. He was still rather flustered over your teasing words from earlier.

It wasn’t that Jungkook was innocent. He wasn’t a virgin, that’s for sure. But......that topic was just......different for him? He was the type of guy who wanted to find his beautiful princess and turn her into a queen. He wanted to love her and cherish her. Settle down and start a family with her. It wasn’t sex to him. It was making love. So perhaps that’s why he was so taken aback by your crude words. Because that’s not who he was. Again----He was a good man.

“Here you go, my dear. Take a moment and just relax. Sip on some water and I’ll take these into the kitchen.”

“No no, Mrs. Kwon. This is my job as your daughter’s assistant. I just needed something to help with the spring heat is all.”

“Nonsense. I may be up there in years but I’m not crippled yet.”

Knowing it was no use to fight with a Kwon woman, he simply uncapped the bottle of water and let the ice cold liquid run down his throat. There. That was better. He just needed to cool off a bit and it would help him focus a bit better. With the cold water running through his heated bloodstream, he set the bottle down on the foyer table and went back out to help pack in more groceries.

With the three of you working together, all the groceries were now packed into the kitchen and all that needed to be done was putting them away in appropriate cabinets and such. Jungkook insisted he be the one to do that while you and your mother decide on what you want for lunch. This way you were stuck with your mother and couldn’t tease him any further. At least for a little bit.

After deciding on barbecued pulled pork and a side salad, Jungkook quickly went to work in his favorite habitat. The kitchen. While he allowed the pork to cook, he had taken time to make a fresh pitcher of lemonade. Fresh as in fresh fresh. No powdery packets or any of that imitation stuff you can buy in the store in the water enhancement aisle. No. He was taking real lemons and squeezing them into a pitcher of heaven.

Filling three cups up full of ice and lemonade, he set two of them for you and your mother on the dining table where you were currently trying to calm down a frantic Jimin as he practically screeched in panic through your cell phone. He might as well have been on speaker, honestly. Sighing heavily, you excused yourself from the dining and connecting kitchen area to go up to your office where you could have a proper conference call with your frazzled assistant. Seriously. It was one day! One day!

“Jungkookie, darling, could you have a seat with me, please?”

Oh boy....

How did this keep happening to him???

“Sure thing, Mrs. Kwon. Let me just check on the pork really quick.”

Trying to buy himself all of an extra few seconds to brace himself, the male actually did check the meat and it was coming along nicely. With nothing else to help him worm his way out of this conversation, he tried to act cool and calm on the outside as he took a seat at the table next to your mother.

“First of all, the lemonade is wonderful.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Kwon. I felt it was appropriate for spring time.”

“Indeed indeed. However, that’s not what I wish to talk to you about.”

He figured as much. And rather than saying it out loud, he remained silent as he waited for the older woman to speak once more. Although Jungkook couldn’t help but notice how her face was suddenly etched with lines of sadness and guilt. She turned in her seat so that she could face him more and he did the same out of respect. Clearly something was bothering your mother.

“I know I don’t make my intentions very secretive. But you have to understand, Kookie. I’ve destroyed my own daughter and I need to put her back together. It’s my fault she’s like this and I need to right this wrong I’ve done.”

“Mrs. Kwon, with all due respect, your daughter is her own person who makes her own decisions. You didn’t do anything to her. She’s chosen to be this way.”

His heart was hammering in his chest as he realized this conversation was taking quite the deep turn. This definitely wasn’t the conversation he was expecting to have given his previous exchanges with your mother. The woman in front of him now was torn with sadness and misery. It broke his heart to see someone as sweet as your mother feeling so sad like this.

“But it is my fault, Kookie. I trained her to be this way because that’s how I was back in the day. But now that I’m getting older and I’ve slowed down.....I realize now how important it is to stop and smell the roses. That life isn’t entirely about work. I did that to her. I treated her like a robot to be programmed a certain way and now my little girl is gone.”

Oh boy. Now your mother was starting to cry. Oh boy. Okay. He could do this. He could handle this. Trying to stay calm for her on the outside, he got up from his seat and briskly went into the living room where he found a box of tissues and came back only to offer one and set the box on the table while he took his seat once more. Gently rubbing the woman’s back, he spoke softly,

“Mrs. Kwon. You were only doing what you thought was best for your company at the time. But things change. People change. Perhaps your daughter enjoys being busy with the company?”

“But she’s not living, Kookie. She’s alive but she’s not living. She just goes through the motions like the robot I turned her into. She doesn’t get out and socialize. She doesn’t treat herself to anything nice. She’s breathing but that’s all she’s doing.”

Suddenly, the woman took both of his hands in hers and she sniffled a little before putting her full attention back on the male. Good lord he hated to see women cry. Especially women as sweet as your mother. He could feel a lump forming in his throat as he gently gripped her hands while he waited for her to say something.

“I need you to help her, Jungkook. I know it’s selfish of me but I need your help. When Jimin reached out to me and told me about you, I knew you were the one who was going to bring my daughter back to me. And maybe......”

He felt his eyebrows knit together in confusion as he listened to this new round of information. Jimin had been behind this??? Wait.......oh.......Okay. Now it made sense. Your mother was looking out for you......while his best friend was looking out for him.

“And just maybe.......you can heal too.”

Meanwhile, you stood there at the bottom of the stairs with your back against the wall listening in. But all you got to hear was that your assistant needed healing. What did that mean? Was he sick? Did he need this job to help pay medical bills?

‘What’s your story, Mr. Jeon Jungkook?’

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