#… I’ll add it just in case I get yelled at

[swedenis-h]

We’ve come for you, Erik and I… together! (X)

[fluentmoviequoter]

More Than Meets the Eye

Excellent idea inspired by 5x18 with Tim and his wife from @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 ! I hope you enjoy!!

This is a documentary-style fic! All scenes in italics are the interview scenes, and the non-italic portions are body cam footage, additional scenes, etc.

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!wife!reader (+ they have twins: a boy and a girl)

Summary: You and Tim go undercover as your criminal doppelgängers. When the case is turned into a documentary, the interviewer and viewers learn that there's often more than meets the eye.

Warnings: interview scenes in italics! fluff, angst, murder, credit card fraud, violence, threats, slightly suggestive in parts (bc Jake Butler) but SFW!

Word Count: 3.4k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Death, deception, and doppelgängers. When the Los Angeles Police Department responded to an urgent 911 call, no one expected what would happen next.

“911 what’s your emergency?”

“Send help! He’s- oh my lord, I don’t know- there’s blood and he… I heard a scream, but not the shot!”

“Sir, where are you?”

A single scream, no witnesses, a silent shot, and a once-in-a-lifetime interaction between suspect and officer. This is More Than Meets the Eye.

When you and Tim walk into his office, where two chairs are waiting, you’re surprised to see three people and a camera shoved into the small area behind his desk. You smile at the interviewer as you sit, and Tim waits for you to settle before he lowers beside you.

“Hello! We’ll start right away. I’ll introduce you first,” the interviewer says. “Whatever feels best, and then we’ll get into the dirty details of the case.”

“Like they’re ever clean,” you mumble.

“This is Sergeant Tim Bradford of the LAPD, and his wife-“

“Don’t do that,” Tim interrupts. “She’s not my wife in this case, she was instrumental to solving it. Use her position title.”

“My apologies.”

You send the interviewer a kind smile as your elbow taps Tim’s in thanks. Tim doesn’t really want to be here, you know that, but you appreciate him standing up for you regardless. When your introduction is complete, you straighten your shoulders as the case is introduced and travel back in time to one of the weirdest days of your life.

“Sergeant Bradford, you were the first responder at the scene. But when you returned to the station is when this case truly took its first turn, correct?”

Tim sighs before he answers, “Yes, that is when this became more than just a call for me. For all of us, really.”

“Can you tell us more about that moment?”

“I walked into an interview room and saw a guy who looked like me on the other side of the glass. There was an opportunity, and our detectives were quick to jump on it.”

“Tim, switch to a private channel,” Angela requests. “I know you’re on a Metro patrol, but dispatch just alerted us to a suspected murder. You’re nearby.”

“I’ll check it out,” Tim answers. “Did the caller give any other details?”

“One of interest. He said he heard a scream but no shot. Apparently he mentioned more than one shot suffered by the vic.”

“He heard a scream but not numerous shots?”

“That’s what the call said. He told the dispatcher a name of a neighbor who had some sort of argument with the vic yesterday, so we sent another unit to pick him up.”

“Got it.”

“Thanks, Timothy. I owe you one.”

“Just one?”

“Two baby ones. Let me know.”

Tim rolls his eyes as he sets the radio aside. He reaches the address quickly and knocks on the door. There’s no answer, even after his yelled introduction as a police sergeant. Because of the exigent circumstance and probable cause of the phone call, Tim enters the house without a warrant. Inside is a blood bath, with one body spread in the tile of the entryway. Tim alerts Angela to the dead body, and she asks him to stay close to the scene and guard it until Nyla arrives.

“But the moment she gets there, come back to the station,” Angela adds.

“10-4,” Tim replies.

He clears the house, then closes the door behind him as neighbors gather near the front yard. One neighbor tells the others about what happened, and Tim assumes he is the caller. Several minutes pass before Nyla arrives with a CSU team, and Tim waves as he returns to his shop.

When he steps into the bullpen, Angela jogs to Tim’s side.

“Don’t freak out, Tim,” she says.

“I never do,” he argues.

“This- this is different Tim. So, just consider everything before you say no.”

Angela leads him into the interview observance room. On the other side of the one-way glass is a man who strikes an uncanny resemblance to Tim.

“It’s creepy, right?” Nolan asks. “He looks just like you!”

“Why are you here?” Tim counters.

“I brought him in. His name’s Jake Butler, though I fully expected his prints would come back as a Bradford.”

“He doesn’t look that much like me,” Tim argues.

“He really does,” Angela says. “I thought it was you for a split second.”

“I agree,” Wade interjects from the open door. “But whether you can see it or not, you’ve got an opportunity here, Bradford.”

Tim looks back to the window just as Jake stands to examine his hair in the reflection. Face-to-face, Tim can see the unsettling resemblance, though it pains him to voice that aloud.

“Fine, we- there’s some things in common,” he mutters.

“I’ll take it. I want you in the room with me,” Angela responds. “Shake him a little bit and find out what he really knows.”

“He saw me and immediately asked if the victim was dead,” Nolan fills in. “And his front door had blood all over the knob.”

“I’ll try not to let your wife see the competition,” Wade jokes.

Tim rolls his eyes as he follows Angela into the interview room. Neither of them speaks before Jake sees Tim and gasps.

“Yo,” he breathes out dramatically. “Your face looks like mine, man! Hey, do you have a long-lost twin? ‘Cause I’ve always felt this connection and-“

“No,” Tim says firmly.

In another part of the station, you hear about Nolan’s arrest of a murder suspect and decide to offer your assistance to Angela. A dead body in a nice neighborhood will need a lot of hands willing to do dirty work, and that’s something you don’t mind. Nyla looks up from her computer as you approach Angela’s empty area and smiles like she knows something you don’t.

“Hey,” you greet. “I was just looking for Lopez. If you need help, let me know.”

“Oh, we do. Our suspect has an acquaintance of sorts that I think you could help us find. Come with me?” Nyla replies.

You follow her to an interview room and don’t question when she asks you to walk inside. Once the door is closed behind you, you see Tim and Angela, then-

“Baby!” the man at the table cries.

Your eyes widen as he stands and steps toward you with his arms up. Tim pushes his hand against Jake’s chest and points to his chair.

“Give us just a moment, Mr. Butler?” Angela requests.

“Why you wearing a uniform, sweets?” Jake asks you. “C’mon, don’t leave me alone in here.”

You ignore his plea to stay and follow your husband into the observation room. Looking through the window, you suppress a shiver at how eerily similar Jake Butler is to Tim.

“Baby?” Tim repeats loudly. “What was that?”

Nyla raises a tablet with the criminal file of a woman who looks nearly identical to you. The name is different, and she’s currently in holding after being arrested on a warrant for missing court.

“Jake Butler’s girlfriend. Tell me that’s not lucky,” Nyla jokes, her smile wide as she observes the concealed horror on your face.

“This is too weird,” you mumble.

“It is,” Angela agrees. She lays her hand on your shoulder and smiles before she asks, “Want to go undercover for me?”

You look at Tim, who sets his jaw and lifts one shoulder slightly. He’s letting you choose. Neither of you are undercover officers; given the situation, it’s likely the only chance you’ll have to close the case.

“Only if one of you agrees to watch the kids,” you answer. “I need someone I trust with them if I’m going to pretend to be…”

“Shop,” Nyla answers with a giggle. “And that genius in there is Dim.”

Tim drops his head as he shakes it. You understand the nicknames, especially when compared to your lookalike’s credit card fraud scheme, but it only makes this more real. You’re going undercover as another version of yourself with another version of Tim. You’ll need a lot of help to get through this case.

“Neither of you are undercover officers,” the interviewer points out. “Yet you seemed eager to be launched into a dangerous situation, even if it meant leaving your children for an indefinite period of time.”

Tim clenches his jaw, and you lay your hand on his knee, below the camera's framing.

“We’re cops,” you argue. “Every morning when we kiss our twins goodbye, we know that we’re walking into danger and risking never coming home to them. What made this moment different was that we knew the outcome. With our team behind us, we could be pulled out at any moment, and the whole ‘lookalike’ thing gave us an advantage to call more shots than most UCs.”

“We didn’t abandon our children for some crime spree through the hills. It was a job, a performance, and it had a clear end date,” Tim adds. “Being a cop is the job. Our son and daughter, though, they’re our lives and we keep that line very clear.”

“Then that must’ve made what happened next hard. If your children, your relationship, are your life… how did you turn into - um - Dim, also known as Jake Butler, and…”

“Kaylee Longworth,” you fill in.

“That’s not what you called her, is it?”

“No. She was dubbed ‘Shop.’”

“Why? Dim is a play on Sergeant Bradford’s name, and an insult to Butler’s intelligence. What’s the connection from Kaylee to Shop?”

“It rhymes with cop,” Tim answers. “And she had a shopping habit that caused her financials to take a nosedive. We never would’ve found her if she’d stopped shopping sooner.”

“How was Longworth brought into custody initially?”

“A report of a stolen credit card,” you explain. “She was arrested in a Los Angeles Victoria’s Secret for using the stolen card.”

“Okay. So, you effortlessly become Dim and Shop. Where did those parents you seem to identify as go during your escapade through the hills?”

“What are you asking?” Tim interrupts. “If we feel guilty about pretending to be other people to catch a murderer?”

“Dim and Shop was just that, an act, pretend, and keeping this city safe for our family was the only thing on our minds,” you finish.

“The act went well, didn’t it? Was there any moment where you struggled or thought you did a bit too well?”

“Both,” you and Tim answer together.

“Hey, this isn’t the minor leagues, Butler! Get your head in the game or get out of my way.”

You roll your eyes at Jake’s criminal handler as Tim tightens his grip on your hips. He presses his chest against your back and licks his lips as he smiles at the man before you.

“You try controlling yourself with a woman like this,” Tim argues. “We got it handled.”

“Got something handled,” you murmur, turning your chin over your shoulder to see Tim.

“Focus,” the man snaps. “I need ten more credit cards by tonight. If you can’t do that, then maybe you’ll have to find a new girl, Butler. Can you get that through your girl-centered mind?”

Tim straightens and steps around you. As he crowds the shorter man, he drops his voice and slaps on a fake smile that does little to hide the anger in his eyes.

“I got it, pal. We’ll get it done. And when we do, you may want to find a new way to keep me in line.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Tim wraps his arm around your shoulders and leads you out, whispering an apology as you turn a corner. It’s just a cover, you remind yourself. When Tim acts like someone you don’t know, you remember that you’re playing a part, too. This isn’t you. Though it’s hard, the case is all that matters.

“Jake,” you whisper harshly as another hand wraps around your arm.

“I got the account number,” Tim grunts. “What more do you want?”

“A promise that you’re not the one and done lucky loser you look like,” the man holding a gun against Tim’s temple answers.

“The only lucky thing about him is me,” you call. “You seriously think he can manage to fall into coincidence after coincidence? He only seems like that because that’s what he wants you to see. You can’t replace us, and you know it.”

“Oh. He’s lucky to have you, huh? Then maybe we’ll keep you here for the next score and see if Jake can deliver on his own.”

“Sure. Just make sure it’s not a man he’s ripping off.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because, like I said, I’m his luck. I can press men easier than he can, if you can understand that.”

He presses the gun harder into Tim’s skin, and you level your expression. After a moment, he drops his hand and signals for the men behind you to release you.

“Let’s go, Jake,” you say.

“Where are you going? We’ve got a casino hit tonight.”

“We’ll be back,” you promise. “I doubt a little unlucky boy like you would understand.”

“You’ve got an hour.”

“More than I need,” Tim brags.

“But all those attempts to maintain your covers together fell short,” the interviewer adds.

“How so?” you inquire.

“The interruption in the park. You were millimeters from adding another felony to the arrest when an unexpected interruption occurred.”

“You mean our kids?” Tim asks. “They came up and called me dad, and we did our jobs to maintain our covers and get our guy. So, no, it didn’t ‘fall short.’”

“What are you saying?” you question. “You want me to draw him back to a room so you can pop one in him?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. I’m sure getting men to follow you into private spaces can’t be too hard. So, lure him to my room and I’ll make sure this payday is doubled for you.”

You glance at Tim where he stands on the other side of the semi-circle of criminal conspiracy.

“Dad!” a young girl yells.

You bite your tongue when you hear the familiar voice and look over slowly to maintain your composition and cover. Your daughter stops between you and Tim, and her twin brother pauses beside you. He furrows his brows as he looks at the tattoos covering Tim’s skin but doesn’t ask.

“Dad,” she repeats. “What are you doing here?”

Your son looks up at you, but you keep your eyes on Tim. Raising your eyebrows in faux accusation, you cross your arms and ask, “You have something you want to tell me, Jake?”

Over Tim’s shoulder, you don’t see Nyla or any sign of someone who should be watching your kids.

“Yeah,” the man beside you agrees. “Do you?”

“Man,” Tim drawls. “Do I look like I have something to tell? Unless his mama didn’t do her part after I bailed out, she’s just a confused little kid.”

“She’s not confused!” your son defends. He’s a few minutes older than her, fiercely protective, and he doesn’t stand for anyone talking down to her. “You’re not being kind.”

You look at the man beside you and shrug. Someone – you and Tim – taught your children too well. Gently, you tug the back of your son’s shirt to get his attention.

“Go back to where you’re supposed to be, alright? You shouldn’t run off,” you encourage.

He nods eagerly, grabs his sister’s hand, and runs back the way they came. You watch them go up a hill, then see James meet them at the top. Jake’s handler needs a performance now, so you look at Tim and tilt your head as your smile grows. You step toward Tim, loop your arms around his neck, and push yourself against him. Tim swallows at your sudden and awkward attention but recovers quickly as his hands drop to your thighs and slide up slowly.

“You may not have anything to tell now, but… It does give me an idea,” you flirt.

Tim cocks his head to the side quickly and then angles his face toward yours. “Tell me more, baby.”

“On your own time,” the handler interrupts. “Car, now, or we miss rush hour at the casino, and you can kiss your cut goodbye just like those kids.”

In the second part of your interview, set up in your living room, the interviewer asks, “And then what happened? You arrest the handler, who turned out to be the killer after a credit card robbery gone wrong. Plus, you apprehend everyone involved in his criminal racket. But a character like Jake and Kaylee can’t just disappear, right?”

“It can,” Tim assures. “That hair grease and the tattoos washed right away. You wouldn’t be asking these questions if we were trained UCs, but we had a team walking us through every step. This wasn’t something we just threw ourselves into.”

“I understand that. You performed well and closed the case. You got your spouse and kids back as you returned to your normal lives."

"Right. The job ended, and we returned to our real lives," you agree.

“You mentioned that the roles were hard to play at times, but your attraction and obsession with Butler seemed effortless,” the interviewer says.

“What are you implying? That I developed feelings for a felon who played a role in the murder of an innocent man?” you reply incredulously. “I was playing a part.”

“Well, sure, but there was no script. Everything you did was your choice, was it not?”

“Stop,” Tim warns. “What we did had nothing to do with the real people. If you can’t see that, you’re not looking in the right place.”

“My mind was never on Butler, it was on the truth. I did what I had to and what would get us the evidence we needed,” you defend.

“Those played up moments were completely necessary in your mind then?”

“Imply that she cheated one more time and we’re done,” Tim interjects. “Ask something about the case or you can finish this documentary on your own.”

“We’ll take another look at your cover identities, then. The moment in the park with your son had to have threatened that act and your composure,” the interviewer muses, changing the subject.

You nod at Tim before you answer, “Well, sure, but police work is everything expect predictable. Things happen in police work, but the detectives and a tactical team were nearby, plus Tim was right there, so there was never a real safety concern in my mind.”

“You trust Tim that much?”

“With my life.”

“And your children’s apparently. They didn’t sign up to go undercover, so how can you justify having them in that-“

“How can you justify a question like that?" Tim interrupts.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’ve made more than enough implications. If you think that we willingly let our children stand in a dangerous moment or put them in the path of any sort of harm, then this interview is over.”

“There’s just a few-“

“We’re done. We’ve covered the case,” you agree.

The door behind you opens, and you turn quickly. You and Tim smile as you walk to greet your children, who are returning from school.

“Mom!” your son calls as he hugs your legs. “We learned about dolphins today! Did you know they can see themselves in a mirror and know that it’s them?”

“Dad!” your daughter squeals as Tim pulls her up to hug her.

“I missed you today,” he tells her. “Do you think we should just stay here and play forever?”

“No!” she says with a giggle. “You have to stop bad people and I need to go to school.”

“I’ll stay home,” your son offers.

You laugh and take his offered drawing of a dolphin. The interviewer and the camera behind you are long forgotten as you interact with your children. This moment, the real you and Tim in your own life contrasts the limited information the documentary makers have about your parenting style.

“Alright, go put your stuff away and we’ll make dinner,” Tim instructs.

“My favorite?” your daughter asks.

“No, it’s my turn!” your son argues.

“You have the same favorite.” Tim chuckles as he directs them down the hall before he turns back to the camera crew in your living room.

Your children run to their rooms, and the interviewer asks, “Just one more thing, please. Why do all of this? You aren’t specially trained or viewed as an officer who has to do this. It’s outside of your scope, so what made this case worth it?”

“Everything we did, everything we continue to do, we do out of love for our kids and our city," you answer. "No matter what you say or how you try to twist this case, we acted from our sense of duty and from love.”

“Not that you’d understand,” Tim sighs. “Being a parent, being a cop... there’s always more than what you see from the seat you’re in outside of it all.”

[cloudcountry]

mer-shrimpy?

Genre/Tropes: No notable ones!!

Summary: The Prefect has an accident in alchemy (courtesy of Ace, Deuce, and Grim) and has turned into a merperson!! Floyd witnesses this and drags them to Octavinelle, where they hang out with the Octotrio until Crewel can reverse the spell.

Author's Comments: i love these absolutely menaces they're my favorite ever i want to hold their hands and hugs them (and give azul smooches.) this ends in kind of a choose your own adventure way?

~~~~~

A bright, multicolored puff of smoke erupted from the cauldron in front of you as Ace and Deuce argued, Grim scurrying around your ankles as he cackled. The noise stopped immediately after the smoke cleared, but you still couldn’t see much of anything. It was only when you realized that you couldn’t breathe very well that you started to panic, flopping around the floor.

Wait, flopping?

You looked down at your legs, only to see the bottom half of a shrimp of all things.

“Bad pups! Stay!” Crewel yelled, quickly approaching your tiny form on the ground, “Ramshackle Prefect, are you alright?”

“Shrimpy?” Floyd leered, peeking over Crewel’s shoulders, “What did you guys do to them, huh?”

Ace and Deuce stepped back a bit, intimidated by the sharp glare Floyd sent their way.

“The water breathing potion must have backfired. What did you add into your potion?” Crewel glared.

“Um…dunno.” Ace mumbled, “I’m sorry, Prefect. I didn’t mean to make you…tiny.”

You tried to voice that it was okay, that you weren’t dying, but nothing came out but sharp shrieking noises and ragged gasps.

“It’s hard to breathe-!” you gasped, choking on air.

“Ehh? It's hard to breathe? You need water or something?” Floyd hummed, his words sending Deuce running to the nearest large plastic container to fill it up for you.

You were more impressed that he’d deciphered what you’d said.

“You can understand me?” you choked out, the sound coming out garbled and raspy.

He tilted his head, kneeling down to you, “Of course I can, Little Shrimp! Did your brain get tiny too? You’re just speaking mer.”

You were about to speak again before Floyd lifted you into his arms, curling his arms around your body and holding you close. He nuzzled your forehead affectionately, his teeth scraping against the skin.

“Leech! Unhand the Prefect!” Crewel demanded, swooping in with the container of water Deuce filled, “This is why you all needed remedial lessons in the first place!”

“Aww, no fun. I wanna play with Shrimpy!” he pouted, turning away and using his upper body to hide you away.

“It’s okay, Floyd. I’ll play with you later.” you promised, “Just please let me breathe.”

“Fiiiine. I don’t want Jade and Azul yelling at me for not taking good care of you. Whatever.” he huffed, annoyed at the idea of letting you go.

He dropped you into the water unceremoniously, the small splash briefly disorienting you before you became used to the feeling of breathing water. It honestly felt like the bathtubs at home, with the container just barely fitting you. Your tail was bent at an odd angle in order for you to breathe properly, and Floyd looked annoyed at your mild discomfort. He brightened up a second later, eyes glinting with mischief.

“I know! Shrimpy, let’s go to my dorm! We have a lot of water, and you can swim all you’d like! Then we can play all we want!” he grinned, sharp teeth gleaming in the light.

“That may be the best idea given the situation.” Crewel agreed, turning his gaze to you, “What do you think?”

You nodded, heart jumping at the thought of a bigger pool. You could breathe and have leg room in the Octavinelle pools, though you’d need to learn how to use your new bottom. You couldn’t imagine how hard it had been to transition from a tail to legs for Floyd and Jade, and in Azul’s case, tentacles. You kept trying to move how you would with your legs, but it felt you only had one big leg and only moved one way. Crossing your arms over your chest, you blew annoyed bubbles in the water.

“Aww, Shrimpy’s so cute!” Floyd cooed, scooping up the container with ease, “Come on, we’re going on a trip! Just me and Shrimpyyy!”

You tried your best to hold onto the container as Floyd slung you around the hall, yelling cheerfully about how much fun he was going to have with you. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping you’d reach Octavinelle soon.

“Floyd, what are you doing?” someone questioned, the amused tone all too familiar.

“Jade!” he beamed, shoving the container of Jade in Jade’s face, “Look at our Shrimpy! Aren’t they cute?”

Our?!

“Indeed.” Jade chuckled, raising a brow as you floated aimlessly around the water, “I assume you were taking them to the pool in Octavinelle?”

“Where else? We need to keep our little Shrimpy close, don’t we?”

“That we do. I’ll walk with you.”

You wished you could chew them out about this stupid “our” business, but all that came out were more little shrieks and yelps. Floyd laughed, and that’s when you remembered that they could understand you.

“Poor thing. You sound so sad when you talk like that. I can barely understand you.” Jade sighed, acting all disappointed when you knew he was teasing.

“Mean!” you shrieked, and they both laughed.

Sinking back into the water, you blew annoyed bubbles until you found yourself in Octavinelle. The dorm was beautifully decorated, no doubt part of Azul’s influence. You furrowed your brow, looking from left to right. Where was Azul? It was after school, so there was only one other place he could be.

“Don’t fret, Little Pearl.” Jade hummed, staring down at you with half lidded eyes that scream trouble, “If you’re looking for Azul, he’s in his office. Of course, our priority lies with you as of now, but Floyd can retrieve him if you so wish.”

“Ehhh? Why me? I wanna play with Shrimpy.” he moped, holding the container of water closer to his chest.

“Oh, but Floyd, the Little Pearl doesn’t know how to use their tail. Wouldn’t it be more fun to play with them when they can run away? I will teach them the basics while you fetch Azul.” Jade hummed, attempting to placate his brother.

Floyd thought on it for a few seconds before brightening up, showing the container into Jade’s arms. With a loud promise of playing with you later, Floyd bolted towards the VIP Room.

Poor Azul.

“Well hello there.” Jade smiled down at you, his face distorted in the still sloshing water, “What do you say we get you in the pool, hm?”

You nodded, blowing more bubbles in the water. Jade chuckled politely, carrying you off into a hallway near the back of the dorm. You stood stationary inside the water as Jade hummed a tune, finally stopping in front of a door and pushing it open with his hip. The water sloshed over the side of the container, wetting his glove. Jade muttered a quiet apology and set the container down next to the wide expanse of clear water, his soaked gloved hand reaching into the water to pet your head.

“Do you mind if I lift you up? I hardly think dumping someone as delicate as you into a pool would be kind.” he hummed, pulling his gloves off one finger at a time, “I will also be shifting into my merform, so you won’t be lonely.”

You nodded, poking your head above the water. Jade’s bare hands were a sight you’d never seen before, and you were surprised at how soft they looked considering most of his free time was spent digging around in terrariums and even mountains. He noticed you staring, eyes crinkling in the corners as he chuckled. Without any warning, he swooped down gracefully, closing on you far too quickly for your liking. You jerked back, water sloshing over the sides of the container once again as Jade’s fangs glinted in the overhead lights.

“Don’t be shy, Little Pearl.” he cooed, dipping his bare hands into the water and scooping you up as though you were a plant ready to be repotted, “I won’t hurt you. I’ll treat you delicately, with all the care a little morsel like you deserves.”

Your eyes went wide at the morsel comment, but before you could see anything Jade had set you in the pool. Even though the water looked clear on the surface, there was a light fog settling within the water that made it hard to see much of anything. You jumped when you heard a splash a little ways away from you, but when you looked you couldn’t see anything. Fear coursed through your veins as you waited, unable to use your tail to swim towards where you hoped Jade had dove in with you. Gulping water through your gills, you tried to take deep breaths to calm down. They wouldn’t eat you, obviously. This was Jade. He just wanted to see you jump.

And jump you did, when a green blur gently tapped your tail from behind.

You jumped backward, whipping around to face none other than Jade. Crossing your arms, you glared at him as he chuckled, eyes narrowed.

“Apologies, Little Pearl. I wanted to see how you would react. It’s quite entertaining to see you out of your element.” he hummed, swishing his tail around as he darted in circles around you, “Now, do you think you’re ready to try swimming?”

“How do you guys work these things?!” you blurted, flopping in the pool like a fish on land, “It’s so hard to manage-”

“Don’t move it like you’d move your own two legs. Move like your legs have been merged into one.” Jade hummed, smirking at your struggle.

You jerked your tail as you managed to go forward, a small accomplishment in the grand scheme of things. Jade looked so proud though, and you tried not to let him feed your ego too much. He was probably laughing at you internally anyway.

“Good Little Pearl.” he hummed, swimming a bit further away, “Keep going. I’m certain you’ll be able to use that tail of yours efficiently in no time.”

With that praise, you tried even harder to swim towards him. It wasn’t as hard as it used to be now that you were thinking of your bottom as two legs merged together, and it occurred to you that merpeople had to pretend that their tail had been split in two. You wondered how they got used to feet, or even if they’d had a foot cramp before. Did merpeople have tail cramps?

You were too in your own head. As you snapped out of it, you realized that Jade had moved a bit farther, and had gone deeper into the pool. In the dimmer lighting at the bottom, you could swear his golden eye was glowing, beckoning you deeper into the pool like a siren. You almost didn’t go deeper.

Almost.

Curiosity killed the cat, as they said, and curiosity was about to kill you.

So you swam down, chasing after Jade as he darted between the various types of coral, their jagged forms rising from the sand like nature’s fortified towers. Octavinelle was truly a beautiful dorm.

With beautiful people, you thought as you watched Jade look back at you, his eyes gleaming. His expression was playful as he twirled in a circle, darting into some faded yellow coral. Without a second thought, you swam after his, elated that you were finally getting the hang of your tail.

“What are you doing here?!” a loud hissed reverberated in the water, and Jade immediately darted in front of you like a guard dog.

A familiar face poked out from the coral, his blue gray eyes narrowed with annoyance.

“Azul?” you gasped, eyes widening at the surprise, “I thought you were back in your VIP Room?”

“Wh- Angelfish? Why are you a…?” Azul trailed off, head tilting to the side as he examined you, “...Nevermind that. You need to get out. Out! Leave!”

“Azul, it’s okay.” Jade spoke, his voice calm and collected.

He still hadn’t moved away from you though.

“Azul, is everything okay?” you asked, keeping your distance.

The last thing you wanted to do was annoy him.

“Angelfish, please leave. You shouldn’t see me like this.” he sighed, shaking his head as he shrank back into the coral, “It’s not a pretty sight, I assure you. Now, if you will-”

“There’s no part of you that I wouldn’t find nice.” you said, voice so stern it surprised you, “I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want to show me, but I promise I won’t judge you for anything. I’m literally a shrimp right now.”

You flicked your tail in his direction for emphasis, and Jade snorted. He seemed to have drifted off the side since you two figured out it was Azul and not some other random student.

“Aaaaazul!” Floyd called, darting out of nowhere into the coral Azul was hiding in, “Come play with us!”

“Floyd, no-!” Azul yelped as he was slammed out of his hidey hole, a writhing mass of black following his front as Floyd cackled. Your eyes widened at the appendages as he struggled to hide them, trying to make himself seem as small as possible. He kept shooting you panicked glances, his chest rising and falling rapidly as Floyd swam circles around him.

“Azul? Why are you on edge? Is it because Little Shrimpy’s here?” Floyd teased.

“Azul, I highly doubt Little Pearl cares about such trivial things.” Jade hummed, pressing a hand against your lower back and pushing you the slightest bit forward.

Azul froze on the spot, finally taking the time to look at your expression. There was no disgust, no amusement, no fear. There was just awe and curiosity. He swallowed thickly, feeling like a specimen on an examination table. You slowly swam forward, reaching out slowly, giving him time to pull away. He slammed his eyes shut but didn’t move, feeling your hand slide down one of his tentacles. You hummed as your other hand cupped one of them, flipping it upwards to reveal the suction cups. Azul cracked his eyes open just a bit to see you staring down at his chubby hideous revolting body with such much adoration that it made his heart jump into his throat. He couldn’t breathe.

“You’re really pretty, Azul.” you murmured, pulling the tentacle closer and letting it wrap around your hand, its actions shaky and slow, “You’re gorgeous like this.”

“See? What did I tell ya? Little Shrimpy doesn’t care.” Floyd laughed, poking Azul at the base of his tentacles.

“I’m not so sure about that, Floyd. They seem to care quite a bit.” Jade chuckled.

Another black tentacle wrapped itself around your waist as his purple tinted skin turned pink. He refused to meet your gaze as you accepted his touch without a bit of repulsion, your eyes affectionate and happy as if asking him to keep going. He yanked himself away before he could pull you into his chest and hug you for hours.

“Come swim with us, Azul!” Floyd called, snapping at him with his teeth as he giggled, “You can’t hog Shrimpy all day! That’s not faaair!”

“Floyd is right, you know. You should thank him for going to get you in the first place. That was very generous of him.” Jade hummed.

“I was here the whole time.” Azul mumbled, and you shook your head at their antics.

“I’d like to make the most of this form while I’m still in it. It’s been fun so far!” you bounced a bit in the water, curling your tail in and out.

“Aww, Shrimpy’s so cute!” Floyd giggled, his expression immediately shifting to annoyance when he processed what you meant, “Ehh? What do ya mean? We’re going to have you over like this again, Shrimpy. You’re not getting away that easily.”

“Indeed.” Jade began circling you, a sinister look on his face, “You’re such a small little morsel, it would be the same if we didn’t have a chance to catch you.”

A shiver shot down your spine as Floyd followed his twin’s example, the both of them circling you menacingly as Azul stared disappointingly at them.

“If you two keep freaking them out, they’ll never come back again.” he pointed out, tugging you closer by the tail, “Don’t scare the poor angelfish. ”

“It’s just a little fuuun.” Floyd giggled, brightening up at the thought of forcing you over again, “Come on Shrimpy, wouldn’t you like that?”

“Sketchy undertones aside, I agree. I think it’d be nice to try this out again, even just swimming in my human form. It’s like stress relief.” you mused.

“Professor Crewel should be working on a cure already. We best make haste if we’re to enjoy you to the fullest.” Jade smiled his close-eyed smile, “Little Pearl, if you will.”

He gestured to the coral around you as Floyd’s yellow eye gleamed mischievous. When Jade opened his eyes, you noticed his yellow eye was glowing too.

“You may hide, and we will seek you out.” he chuckled, tilting his head slightly, “Wouldn’t you enjoy that?”

“Oh yes, Shrimpy! It’ll be so fun. We’ll try to take a bite out of you.” Floyd laughed.

 Azul shook his head exasperatedly, holding out a hand to you.

“If you do not wish to join their game of cat and mouse, I can show you around the deeper ends of the pool.” he murmured, “I’m sure you would enjoy the secret’s I’ve stashed away.”

You looked between the three, contemplating which to try first. Well, what’ll it be, dear Prefect?

[hazbinhotelxreader]

Mother Carmilla x gender neutral child reader

Words: 1.5k

“Let’s practice”

A/n: hii! Okay so I saw someone post that this would be a great image! So I decided to try it, (or course with permission)! So hope this is great!

(Idea from: lillonvia)

Info: Basically the reader is Carmillas youngest child, and is trying to learn how to use those shoes Carmilla has as weapons. Readers genderless so this is for everyone! Reader is between the age of 9-12

By the way I tried to make all the Spanish words masculine since it goes for all genders (usually)

Your mother, Carmilla Carmine, was an overlord dealer of the angelic weapons. Which also meant she was pretty much trained to use all the weapons she makes. Your older sisters, Clara and Odette, were also trained, not as much as your mother but still enough to defend themselves.

You ok the other hand, no. You being the youngest of the family made her more protective over you, even not letting you go to close to the weapons. It did make you feel left out.

Your sisters knew how to use the guns and some of the daggers, but those were never really your true interest, it was those ballet shoes your mother wore. Once your sisters told you what your mother did to that exorcist during extermination day with her shoes, you immediately thought it was cool.

You wanted shoes like that. Maybe some like your mother. Though you knew she’d never say yes, it was dangerous, or so you thought she’d say no.

Right now, you snuck into the room where she stored all the weapons. Cases of guns and daggers lined up neatly on the shelves, bullets on all the racks. You’ve never been in the room before, your mother never let you.

You started to look if there were any other shoes that your mother could have. You found some boots with them, they weren’t your size though, you were a kid and most of these clothes and weapons weren’t designed for children. You sigh as you keep looking.

Carmilla just so happened to be walking by to do a daily check on her progress, and you tensed and froze. I’m instinct, being the child you were, you hid. Hiding behind a large shelf that probably wasn’t a good idea to hide behind.

Carmilla walked in, her steps sharp and you could hear your mother’s steps. You hold your breath as she checked the room and weapons that were shipped in. You sighed in relief when she walked over to another area in the room, leaning over a little, but that made the shelf shake…and then it fell. You gasp and froze as the shelf crashed onto the ground.

Carmillas head snapped over to where the shelf fell and saw you. Her eyes narrowed as she walked over. “[Name]? What are you doing in here?” She asked in a stern voice, keeping herself from yelling or raising her voice at the fallen weapons and broken shelves.

“I-uh…” m, You struggled to speak. Carmilla stood up straight and crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at you and waiting for you to speak up. You sigh and stand up, your head down. “I just wanted to…learn how to use angelic weapons too..like how you and my sisters do..” You say softly.

Carmillas expression softens as she looks down at you and sighed. “Mi amor, do you truly want to use these? They’re dangerous and I’d hate for you to get hurt.” Carmilla said stern but soft.

“Pleeeeeeaaaase!! mamá I really want to! I’ll do anything” You beg your mother and gave her some puppy dog eyes to add to it. Carmilla let out a soft smile and held a hand out.

“If that’s what you want mi corazón..” You smiled back and took her hand. “But, if you want to use the angelic weapons, clean this up. Now.” Carmilla said more stern, pointing to the fallen weapons and the broken shelves.

You chuckle nervously and nod. “Yes mamá” you say and picked up all the angelic weapons. While your mother stayed and watched. She began to ask you a questions.

“Corazón? Which weapon would you like to use?” She asked you gently.

“Hmm? Oh! Uh, I was wondering if I could be taught how to use…shoes like yours?” You rubbed your arm, slightly embarrassed to admit.

Carmilla smiled softly at the response. Clara and Odette never wanted to learn how to use their legs to fight, they preferred blades. Her heart warmed at the thought of her youngest child taking after her. “Of course Mi querido, though I may have to make some of your size. So training will not begin so soon.”

You mentally sigh at that, you wanted to train right away, but knew you’d have to wait. You nod and smiled sadly. “Okay mamá..I can wait.” You say. She came over and pushed up the shelf for you.

“Thank you mi amor” Carmilla said and ruffled your hair a gently with her large claws. You giggle softly and finish putting the weapons in their places.

It took about 6 days for the shoes to be made, mainly since Carmilla wanted them to be more durable for you. She came and got you from your room. “[Name]? I’ve got you a surprise” She smiled and sat on the bed next to you, smiling softly with a box in her hand.

You smile and sit up, sitting next to your mother as she handed you the box. You open it and gasp and smile when you saw the same styled ballet shoes inside. They were like your mothers but just a smaller size. “ay dios mío- thank you mamá!!” You hugged your mother by the side and she smiled back.

“Of course Mi amor..now why don’t we try these on? And we can start practicing if you’d like.” She offered with a smile. You practically bounce up and down as you nod excitedly.

“Yes! I’d love to!” You just to your feet with the box, pulling the angelic shoes out and tossing the body on the ground to clean up later. Carmillas heart warmed up from how excited you were to use and train in those shoes, taking after her rather than using the more dangerous weapons like guns.

You both walk down the stairs, in the middle of the purple room. You looked around and smiled. Carmilla smiled down at you. “Alright [name], let’s put those on and I’ll teach you some ways to use them. But you must listen alright?” She spoke stern but soft.

You not and smile, putting the ballet shoes on (with a little help from Carmilla since you were struggling with the ribbons), and they fit snug. “Okay! I’m ready to kick some a-“ you stop your words when you saw Carmilla glaring at you softly for you almost cussing. You nervously laugh and calmed down.

Carmilla walked over and started to speak. “First of all, let’s get you better adjusted to walking in them. Stand on your toes.” She commands you gently. You nod and attempt to stand on your toes, though you only lasted about 2 seconds. “Try again.” Your mother stood near you, more firm now”

“Dang it..” you grumble softly as you failed again. Repeatedly, you fail over and over again, your mother demanding you to keep trying and trying. “This is too hard..” you complain a little as you became more and more frustrated.

“Patience Mi amor..you’re doing well..just keep trying. It’s all about practice.” Carmilla encourages softly and sternly. You nod and take a deep breath, trying again.

After a while you were able to hold yourself up for about a minute straight, you smiled and looked at your mom. “Look! I’m doing it!” Carmilla smiled softly at you and walked over.

“See? I told you that if you practice you’d get better..now try walking to me while standing on your toes.” She encouraged. “Like this” she walked across the room with ease, she held her arms out. “Soon you’ll be able to walk normally in them. And when you master that, I will teach you how to fight with them.”

You nod and smile, trying to stay motivated. You started to walk to your mother. Though you failed a lot, standing on your toes were hard, walking across the room on them…oof..even harder. But you did have you mother to encourage you along the way. You kept trying and trying and eventually did it, and you celebrated a little.

“Good job [Name]. Now we will practice more and more everyday. Just be patient alright my dear?” Carmilla told you, giving you a smile of approval.

“Yes mamá, I understand.” You smiled back excitedly.

“Good..then i will expect you to be wearing those all the time around the house to practice.” She nods and ruffled your hair gently, walking away to do her duties.

You smiled and nodded at your mother. “You got it!”. You were excited to keep practicing, you were determined and motivated to train and impress your mother. You knew it would be long, but it would be worth it.

A/n: hi! Hope this was good! If I get comments for part 2 I could make it.

[mariabtsos]

Never Ending ||m.yg||

Description: wasn't Yoongi the one that was supposed to give you flowers for no reason?

Genre: One-shot, Yoongi x f!reader, established relationship, fluff, Yoongi is literally the sweetest man alive (wbk)

WARNINGS: None, this idea came after seeing this really sweet like reddit post, it will be at the end of this post.

Word Count: 2.6k+

Ever since coming back from service, BTS’ comeback preparations had been nonstop. It was almost like their debut days, they started early and ended late, whether they were practicing the choreography for a new song or recording their parts again, or getting back into recording RUN BTS.

You and Yoongi had seen very little of each other, working almost opposite schedules with a Saturday or Sunday off sprinkled in where you would mostly sleep and catch up on what you had going on so far, having those little moments made all the time you missed him worth it, you loved them, it was how you were able to build your relationship in the first place.

You and him met when your best friend practically begged for you to come with her to a double date. Yoongi was the one you were paired with, and you connected almost instantly. You had so much in common, more specifically your mutual love for music and the art behind it, you had small dates where he would take you to his small studio space, he'd told you he was a trainee, and that he was set to debut soon with the guy your friend was on a date with.

A year later, the guy your friend dated didn't debut, but Yoongi did, and that's when the small gestures started, you were at every music show that you could be at, bought every album, and went to every showcase or small gig you could afford. Yoongi showed his gratitude in small ways, he would get you a single rose, or a small cheap necklace, or if he wanted to really treat you he'd save up and take you to a nice restaurant. And as his success grew he was able to give you more, although he wasn't one for extravagant gifts, he always gave you something that made you feel special.

Even whilst he was serving, at the end of each week when he came home he'd bring you flowers and your favorite food, you had never felt more loved.

And now that he was back, you wanted to show him just as much gratitude. He was working so hard to make their first comeback grandiose, and even if he was exhausted, he'd spend his days off spending his time with you only sleeping if you were accompanying him.

You decided to do something simple, you found a flower shop that did the most beautiful arrangements and you called, setting something up that you imagined Yoongi would like; they even gave you the choice to add some fruits, and what better for your boyfriend than to give him the absolute love of his life, tangerines. You hoped this would help him relax a bit, and feel your support even if you didn’t see each other much.

“Okay guys, why don’t you take five, hmm?” Sungdeuk announced to the room, the seven men and their backup dancers immediately heading for water or laying flat on the floor, the latter was Yoongi’s case.

“I said it in 2013 and I’ll say it again, I was told we would only rap, not dance,” Yoongi’s breathing was heavy as he spoke, causing his hyung and Jungkook who were laying on the floor to laugh. “This is good for you hyungs, at your old age you need to exercise to keep your joints healthy,” the maknae giggled, followed by chuckles and laughter around the room from their members and some of the dancers.

“Yah!” Jin yelled as he smacked Jungkook in the back of the neck.

“Yoongi-ssi!” he sat up as he heard their manager’s voice from the practice room door, “come to my office please,” Yoongi nodded, carefully standing up from his spot on the floor, softly kicking Jungkook after he loudly announced he was in trouble.

Yoongi giggled at the the whole thing, his mind slowly making his way back to you, he didn’t have to record anything today, maybe he’d go to his studio later and call you, yeah, that’s what he would do, they were told they wouldn’t be here till midnight today, and that they could sleep in tomorrow before they had to do some photoshoots for their upcoming album, so that meant he could get home before you did and make you dinner. You worked as a nurse, and unfortunately had been assigned 12-hour shifts the past couple of months; going into work at noon and getting out at midnight, by the time you got home and ready for bed, Yoongi would arrive, exhausted, but he still would want to at least have small conversation, your relationship was built with communication, and he wasn’t one to disregard it.

He met the man at the door and followed him to the elevator, reaching the floor where the offices were, they made it to his quickly, where Yoongi’s eyes almost popped out of his sockets when he noticed a medium-sized vase with a beautiful arrangement of flowers and small basket of tangerines. A little white piece of paper stuck out in the middle of all the flowers, Yoongi opened and he smiled so wide.

From Yn, just because. I love you ♡

“As you can tell, they are for you,” the manager chuckled humorously, “you better not fuck it up with her Yoongi-ssi,” he said candidly.

“I haven’t fucked up in 10 years, I don’t plan on starting now,” he kept re-reading your note, he thought your handwriting was beautiful, even when you didn’t.

When he made it back to the practice room with his flowers and tangerines his members immediately started teasing him, especially Jungkook. “Look at our hyung with his flowers! And they say chivalry is dead,” he would say, “yeah hyung, I thought you’re the one that’s meant to get her flowers?” Taehyung added, grabbing him by shoulders and ruffling his hair.

“Yah! Stop it, Ynie is sweet for doing this, don’t see how Yoongi hyung’s face is about to split into two?” Namjoon pointed out smiling, his dimples showing proudly. 

They had lived together for 13 years after all, all Namjoon wanted was for his hyung to be happy, and the fact that you did that for him had his heart swelling with warmth. You were so good for Yoongi.

“I need you guys to talk me off of running to the jewelry store and getting her a ring,” the room went silent.

“You don’t have one already?!” Hobi piped up, smacking his shoulder, his good shoulder. Yoongi shook his head.

The guys look at each other, and then at Sungdeuk, “I don’t think no one’s going to talk you off of it Yoongi-ah, in fact, I think everyone should take the rest of the afternoon off,” he announced loudly, “you six, please help him set up,” he asked the other members who immediately pulled the cat-eyed man, grabbing all their stuff, including the flowers and tangerines, and headed out to prepare.

It was 8pm

They had made it to the jeweler just in time, they were lucky he owed Jimin a favor, otherwise Yoongi would’ve had to wait, and he sincerely didn’t think he could.

You guys had started talking more seriously about marriage about 5 years into your relationship, mainly because you had started to feel scared that with idol life, Yoongi would enjoy not being entirely tied down to a person. Thankfully that wasn't the case, and he'd promised you, when the time was right, he would get down on one knee.

He wasn't sure why it took him 10 years to come through with that promise.

Yoongi was grateful for your late nights of conversation after that, every so often you would have little YouTube marathons that would start with alcohol reviews and end in proposals, and he had remembered every comment you made about those rings, he’d also remembered the comments you’d made when one of your friends got engaged. He was able to find a beautiful ring, something he knew you’d like. His members helped get all the materials he needed, as they rushed to your shared apartment and started decorating the place, Yoongi and Jin cooked whilst the rest added finishing touches, at some point Jungkook went and got his camera, stating he’d be the one to stay so he could capture the moment.

Yoongi could complain about the maknae all he wanted, but there was no one as loyal and dedicated to his friends as him.

It was 11:30pm when they were finished, Jungkook and Yoongi were saying goodbye to the others as they made their way into the car they would have to share back to the HYBE building so they could get their own vehicles, they had all ran around in Yoongi’s car, a medium-sized SUV that barely fit all of them, but they managed.

“I call shotgun! I deserve it after going in hyung’s trunk,” Jimin ran after he had said his goodbyes, with Taehyung following closely behind as he whined about him getting shotgun, the rest walked away at a normal pace, not eager to deal with the soulmates and the game of rock-paper-scissors that they would certainly be playing.

Yoongi was pacing around, it was 12:48am now, you’d be home any minute now, Jungkook had hid behind the black sectional in your living room, thankful you had left some space between it and your wall due to the heating system. Yoongi started serving dinner, he’d kept it as warm as he could so that you could enjoy a warm meal before he asked what he believed to be one of the most important questions of your lives.

He heard the digital ping of you punching in the door code and he knew there was no backing out now.

You opened the door to find your house lit by small candles, your dining room table set up with your good plate set, and the flowers you had sent Yoongi as a centerpiece.

“Hi baby,” Yoongi smiled widely as approached you, kissing your lips softly, as if he was savoring you, “hey,” you sighed as he pulled away, as always he took your breath away, “did I miss an important day? Our anniversary has already passed, hasn't it?” you went through the different options nervously, and Yoongi could only chuckle at your silly concerns.

“No baby, I just wanted to thank you for the flowers,” he explained, taking your jacket off and grabbing your bag, putting them both away. You took off your shoes and slipped on your home one on, walking hand in hand with your boyfriend.

He pulled a chair out for you, you whispered a thank you and sat down; Yoongi left a kiss on your hair and went to sit down himself. He’d cooked your favorite meal, you both started eating, it was a comfortable silence at first, which you broke when Yoongi sat up to clean your dishes after you were both done. “How early did they let you all out for you to have pulled this off?” you asked him, supporting your chin on your fist as you watched him.

“Maybe…8:30?”

Your mouth dropped, he’d invested this much time to thank you for something so simple like flowers? You truly didn’t deserve him. Once he was done, he scrolled through his phone a bit, selecting one of the songs on the 3rd CD of Proof, he walked toward you and held out his hand, you recognized “Quotation Mark” almost immediately.

“We’re planning on making it a full group song,” Yoongi explained as he spun you around, making you giggle, how he wished to hear that sound forever.

And maybe, after tonight he would.

He danced around you, because truly they were planning on making it an OT7 song, and there was this bit of the choreo he had added for the purpose of what his plans were tonight. He truly hoped Jungkook was recording this, if you said yes like he hoped you would, he wanted to rewatch this every day until you were married, and eventually show it to your children. Here it came, the part that he’d be taking over once the song was done, the first half of Hobi’s rap was perfect for this. 

“...Today, I make sure to throw my heart to you first, a safe landing with you, the catcher,” He got down one knee, pulling out the small velvety box from his pocket, you hands immediately covering your nose and mouth in shock, your eyes filled with tears as the song went on, Yoongi had stopped after he found himself tearing up.

“I’ve always known you were the one for me, you’ve been with me when I was nobody and when success came, you kept me humble, you kept my feet on the ground whilst being one of my biggest support systems. I told you when the time came, I’d get down on one knee, and your kind gesture today was what tied it all together for me, I don’t care if people think it’s not that big of a deal, it was to me.” your chuckled mixed with your sobs, “I want to be able to hear you giggle every day, and selfish as it maybe, I want you to be mine forever, would you marry me, Ynie?” the words left his mouth miraculously, as he was fully sobbing now.

Did your small gesture truly lead him to such a big decision? To join your lives as one was something you had dreamed of for a while, hell recently you’d had a dream of yourself and Yoongi dancing in what felt like cloud, with a beautiful white dress and him in one of those suits that made him look like absolute prince, you could only assume you dreamt of your wedding day.

“Baby my heart’s about to fall out of my ass please say yes,” he chuckled nervously, bringing you out of your thoughts. Poor guy, he’s probably watching you watch him and he’s thinking the worst.

“I’d like nothing more,” you thought Yoongi’s face would split in two, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you in for a tight hug “and I promise to send you pretty flowers and tangerines every chance I get, for the rest of our lives,” you whispered. Yoongi couldn’t help himself, pulling away slightly so he could give you the kiss of a lifetime, he knew how much you love his lips.

“She didn’t say no hyungs!” You heard Jungkook’s distinct giggle and muffled cheers.

“You FaceTimed them?!” Yoongi whined, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. His dongsaeng walked out of his hiding spot, camera in one hand phone on another hand, “I thought you were recording with it!”

“I was recording with my Samsung, you know when you post this video they’ll want to see that,” the younger rolled his eyes, bringing the camera over so you could see the pictures.

“I wish I wasn’t wearing scrubs for this,” you complained, thanking your lucky stars there was no puking or excess of blood spilled on you tonight.

“You could’ve worn a burlap sack and Yoongi hyung would still think you’re the most gorgeous person alive noona,” Jungkook laughed, causing your fiancé to blush intensely. And between the guys congratulating you and Yoongi actually putting the ring on your finger, it really hit you that he was now your fiancé, and that your biggest dream had come true.

Your life would have a never ending amount of love, laughter and chaos, and you wouldn’t want anything else when it came to Yoongi.

A/N:

Hello! Sorry this took so long to get to you! I had a plan for this and when I saw this particular like reddit story thing I just NEEDED to do it with Yoongi. I hope y'all like it!

[sturnlova]

First time ( C.S )

(Chris Sturniolo x Female reader)

( Warning : Smut, F & M receiving, kinda new to writing, not proof read all the way, pet names, fluff, i don’t know what else 😭 )

Chris : Orange

Y/N : Pink

Matt : Blue

Nick : Purple

Nathan : Red

(Word count : 900)

——————————————————

Me and Chris have been best friends for over 8 years and i’ve told him every secret expect one, i’m a virgin, but i didn’t feel the need to because he can’t do anything about it. well at least i thought he couldn’t

“Exactly bruh, Y/N when your fucking someone would u let them do anal cause i personally wouldn’t” i giggled at his comment and so did everyone else but i didn’t really now what to say since i’ve never done anything romantically like sex, it’s not like people didn’t want to do it with me i just wasn’t ready. Nate went on for a while about fucking girls and his own experiences until i grabbed my phone and hoodie and hopped off the couch to go to Chris’ room and lock myself in there until i was ready to come out. I heard Matt whisper yell at Chris to go check on me and find out what’s wrong.

“Y/N let me in please, i wanna know if you’re okay, what happened Y/N/N”

“please go away Chris it’s embarrassing it doesn’t concern you anyway.”

“ I’m not going away Y/N/N cmon we’re best friends you gotta tell me ill tell you a secret if you want me to”

A minute after i unlocked the door, Chris opened it to see me with a puffy face due to the tears of embarrassment i shed. “Wanna sit and talk about it, i promise i won’t judge ” Chris moved us to the bed and laid me on his chest for we could talk about why i was crying out of nowhere.

As we laid down and made ourself as comfortable as we could i let out a sigh and a whisper into his chest “i’m a virgin at my grown age, Chris i just don’t want to do it with someone i don’t connect with, you know.” Chris just runs his fingers through my hair as i talk about how i feel embarrassed about being a virgin and why i still am one.

A uncomfortable silence forms until Chris cuts it with a knife “if you don’t wanna do this we can forget about it but do you want me to help, like platonically of course.”

“Help?”

“Yeah help.”

“You will tell me how to do it?”

“Of course Y/N no one has to know if u don’t want people to know“

He stands up and asks if i’m 100% sure, “im 101% sure Chris” He takes of his top and i take this as a queue to take mine of to, chris is there with jorts on and i’m left with shorts and my bra on which he unclasp with a bit of a struggle, but it’s fine. He leans down to kiss me softly but passionately.

He lays me down on the bed and crawls on top me of me. He pulls down my shorts and panties, leaving me naked well he still has his shorts on. “Chris please can you take ur shorts off, or do something please, it feels weird being naked and ur not.” “yeah sweetheart i’ll take it off don’t worry” He takes them off as he speaks.

Sweetheart?

I have to be honest with Chris because after all we are best friend’s “what if it hurts Chris, many get a towel in case i bleed.” “It’s ok we don’t need a towel but i’ll be slow i promise and you can just tap my arm 2 times if u want me to stop, ok?” i nod my head in response. He spreads my legs open and places my ankles on his shoulders. He teases my pussy hole a bit making sure i’m stretched before anything more happens.

“Okay I’m ready Chris just go slow” he slowly adds his length to me, i hiss in response as this is a new feeling and his definitely not small “you ok? want to stop” “no no keep going” He finally adds it all to me and starts moving, i can feel his balls against my butt it’s a bit funny to me only because this is the same boy i used to force to let me practice make up on. He continues his thrust at a steady past well whispering praises in my ear.

I’m a moaning mess under him due to all the new sensations i’m feeling; his tip hits my cervix with every movement he does. Chris giggles, “what’s so funny lover boy?” “the fact you can barely talk ” “shut up” i say between my moans.

“Y/N i’m really close ok, i want you to cum all over my cock” he whimpers as he moves slower and sloppier. “Let go baby” we finish together and giggle at each other’s sweaty tired faces a couple seconds after. We lay in bed together naked in a comfortable silence.

“You did so good Y/N/N i’m so proud of you. Thank you for being comfortable with me.” he kisses my check “you want me to get ya dressed for we can go back down? Or you wanna stay here for a bit ” “Yeah can you please get me dressed before someone walks in, and also i know i don’t have to much experience but you’re good at fucking” Chris giggled and pulled out of me to add my clothes and his clothes back on.

Chris puts his clothes on then grabs me by the waist and puts my clothes on until Nate walks in our room.

“Did y’all fuck?”

“what?” i say with a tone that clearly had attitude to it.

“No we didn’t do that, she had really bad stomach pains and was crying so it might i’ve sounded like moans but it wasn’t..”

“Oh sorry than but why is she naked?”

“Nate get the fuck out”

Chris whispered in my ear “I’ll drop you off home baby” i started to blush and nodded my head and looked down.

✧༺✦✮✦༻༺✦✮✦༻✧

It’s been 4 months since Chris admitted his feelings to me after “helping me” and i couldn’t be more thankful. I now have the best boyfriend i could ever ask for, we also have an annoying but loveable Nate who saw us Post sex.

[cottonlemonade]

How You Met

word count: 950 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.

pairing: post time-skip Akaashi x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: one person being casually rude about your weight (it’s quick tho)

The taiyaki were still hot in the white paper bag, the smell reminding you it was almost lunch time.

Looking the street up and down for a bus stop or a waiting taxi you turned on the spot. A little ways up the pathway you could make out the typical black boxy shape of a Tokyo taxi and readjusting your handbag you headed towards it, only for a busy looking person in a suit to snatch it up before you could reach it, muttering something about how you would be better off walking for some exercise.

In disbelief about such rudeness you shook your head, pulling your coat a little closer around your chubby form.

You were sure another taxi would take its place soon enough and got on tiptoes to examine the traffic, on the lookout for one.

A mischievous breeze blew up your coat collar, making you wish you would have worn a scarf after all. Although April was right around the corner, the weather today was icy cold.

Giving up for the time being you headed towards a little flower shop you had passed just a few meters back to warm yourself.

A bell chimed when you opened the door. Pots with regular and more exotic house plants stacked on shelves along the wall, one display case behind the counter held the fresh cut flowers while another showed already bound bouquets in varying sizes and color schemes.

The woman standing behind the cash register called a friendly greeting and held the beginnings of a new arrangement at arm's length to check for possible improvements.

"What can I do for you?", she asked, putting the flowers down and folding her hands over a small pregnant belly.

"I would like a bouquet with peonies and… some eucalyptus, please."

The woman smiled and got to work, asking here and there for specifics in color or fullness.

She was about to come to an end with the simple coral and cream bouquet when the doorbell rang again and a young man looking remarkably like a substitute literature teacher entered the shop, a phone to his ear.

"Yes, father, I am getting flowers. I’ll be there soon. Oh, actually, I might be a while, there are quite a lot of people waiting."

You heard an angry voice yelling something unintelligible from the phone, when he simply hung up and sighed. He reached to tug at his collar like it was too tight and closed his eyes for a second, then, remembering he was in public, gave a bow to you and the saleswoman and apologized.

"Please take as long as you want.", he said, almost pleadingly.

He looked like he had a headache, grabbing his collar again.

"O-on second thought,", you began, turning to the owner that was just about to add the last eucalyptus branch, "I forgot I wanted more. Silly me. Uhm, could you make one with… hmm, those blue ones, some of the small greens, those white tulips, and lots of those light blues there, please? And then another one… with those yellow ones there, there and those, too, please." Your best friends would be delighted.

"Oh", the owner caught on immediately, "that was quite a lot. I don’t think I could memorize which ones you wanted all at once."

"No problem. I can tell you one by one."

The young man gave a small grateful smile at the stage-play-like interaction, letting out a “Thank you very much” under his breath.

As the shop owner wrapped up the first bundle of flowers at snail speed, you turned to the young man, wanting to cheer him up.

"So, where do you not want to go?"

Seemingly too exasperated to care about talking to a perfect stranger he said, "A blind date. Which, by the way, isn't actually blind but with a woman I have absolutely no interest in talking to about anything."

"Oh fun.", you said and trying to lighten the mood added, "Why not bring some flowers that say Thanks for coming, I don’t wanna be here?"

Everyone laughed, but the guy stopped after a second or two, looking at you for the first time, then turned to the florist.

"Can I do that?"

She thought for a moment, then slowly nodded, "I can add some candytuft, for sure and… hm, something really neutral for… and then… maybe I still have some butterweed. Yeah, I think I can do that."

You stayed even after your third bouquet was done, keeping the conversation going, joking around and glad when the young man gave a genuine laugh.

"Let me.", he said, sounding tired, when you drew out your wallet to pay for your flowers.

You shook your head, smiled and handed your card to the owner. Then you reached into the paper bag.

The buns in the meantime had turned lukewarm, but still smelled heavenly when you fished one out in a napkin and handed it to the woman - the other still in the bag you placed on the counter for a moment, grabbing a pen from your pocket. You quickly jotted down your name and number on the paper and handed it to him.

“And here. If you need rescuing from your blind date, send me a text and I’ll call you right away with some made-up emergency.”

Then you raised your free hand that wasn’t busy balancing the flowers with a “You got this.” and after a final wave you left.

Akaashi was still staring at the door for a few long moments after you had gone.

“You’d make a cute couple.”, the saleswoman mused and grinned when the young man blushed profusely, holding tighter to the paper bag.

[sunshine-on-marz]

guess who's back, back again

to request married gn!reader and aaron hotchner headcanons

- 🦭

My first time writing for Hotch!!!!

I wasn’t sure if you wanted the wedding itself or what so I did a little of everything

Put a Ring on it

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Find my other work here!!

Before the wedding he’s a mess

Especially since he’s so closed off durning work so when he gets home it all just kind of hits him

“Aaron, love are you okay?” You cup his face, and feeling the cool metal of your ring on his cheek just makes his heart speed up. “I’m alright, just thinking. Now, c’mere” he slides over on the couch to make room for you to curl up next to him. “Now what’s wrong, just because you’re a profiler doesn’t mean you get to lie to me” you tease, he smiles a bit, leaning over to kiss you. “We’re getting married, sorry for being a little stressed” he chuckles, which makes you laugh too. “Why are you nervous, what do you not love me anymore?” You ask, fake offense dripping in your voice. He pulls you forward to kiss you again. “Of course not”

Now the wedding itself? Different story.

He makes sure it’s everything you’ve ever wanted

He DEFINITELY cries when you walk down the isle

You add in a message to Jack in your vows and it’s so solidifying to him that you are the one

Not that he needed any convincing

He takes off almost a month from work for your honeymoon and the BAU is SHOCKED. I tell you.

“20 days?!” Derek yells when Rossi breaks the news. “I mean atleast he’s actually taking time off for once” JJ says, leaning back in her chair. “20 days is quite the long honeymoon, most couples only take 7 days” Spencer said, not looking up from his book, making Emily laugh “maybe we’ll actually see him smile when he comes back”

He’ll take you anywhere you want for the honeymoon.

Now for normal married life?

This man worships the ground you walk on

He may seem all cold and grumpy but you just make him feel like heaven is on earth

Even when he has to leave in a rush for work he always leaves you a note saying how much he loves you

“Sorry, got a case. I love you sweetheart, have a good day, I’ll call later. PS: wear that new shirt ”

He calls you atleast once a day when he’s out on a case

And texts you any chance he gets

“How’s your day going love?”

“Have you eaten lunch yet?”

“I love you (we’re all safe. Don’t worry)”

Overall he’s just the best ever

[ethereal-engene]

Upstairs Neighbor | Jongseong

pairing: Jay x gn!reader

genre: slice-of-life, non-idol!AU & uni!AU // warnings: cuss words and mentions of food

summary: you confront your upstairs neighbor about something, but things play out a little differently than what you planned for in your head. // word count: 767

note: inspired by this clip & enjoy ✨

While you’ve never met your upstairs neighbor(s), you know the unit above you is a guy

His sneeze gave it away 💀 (yes it could be heard from the floor below him)

Normally you don’t haven’t run into too many issues with your neighbors, but of course on the night before your exam you run into one

Maybe you could have anticipated it when you heard the dragging of something big across the floor boards as they vibrated onto your ceiling

Nonetheless you paid no attention to it until the first chord of an electric guitar was played

As soon as you heard it, you grabbed your noise canceling headphones, in hopes that it’d lessen the loudness of the continuous guitar playing

While it did help a bit, it was still loud enough for you to grow irritated. Shouldn’t he know that other people live there and be mindful of his surroundings??

However you were still a bit optimistic that he’d stop after maybe 30 minutes but once it hit that 30 minute mark and it didn’t seem like he’d stop anytime soon

How in the fucking hell were you supposed to focus on your studies if all you could focus was the noise bouncing off the walls??

Plus this exam was such a big percentage of your grade. If you failed it, it would have to work so much harder just to get a passing grade for this class

You couldn’t take it anymore and found yourself stomping up the stairs to knocking on his door

“YAH!! Open this door. RIGHT NOW!” You screamed at the door

When the door finally opens, you’re greeted with such a handsome face that you forget what you were going to say

“Did you need something??” An equally irritated look painted on his face and laced in his tone

GOD WHY WAS HE SO HANDSOME EVEN WHEN ANNOYED?

… silence still fills the space between you two

He fake coughs trying to get your attention

“Oh… uhm yeah! I was just wondering if you could keep your guitar playing down? I’m trying to study for an exam and it’s really hard to focus on anything with it so loud.” You finally reply

“Oh and totally not related but you’re really handsome! Okay bye now” you quickly add on and start speed walking down the stairs

Only you didn’t get that far because he yelled out for you to stop

He walks over to you and stares at you like you’re crazy because why would you not even let him respond first 😭

He won’t tell you this but he thought it was cute and funny that you tried to leave without letting him respond back to your request & compliment

Obliging to his request to stop, he catches up to you and gives you his thanks & he’ll try to keep it down

Of course, he couldn’t leave you without giving you his number on a slip of paper

You know…in case he’s still too loud and maybe for something more than that 😏 (like a date or something hehe)

“Before I forget to mention, you’re cute!” His smile reaches his eyes as he hands the piece of paper

Your face heats up and finally lets go of his hand that was holding the paper

“Thanks, I appreciate it! I’ll see you around!!” Your voice slowly decreases in volume as you descend the stairs

Waving goodbye and he shouts with “No problem and I’d be more than glad if I got to see you again!” All said with hints of hope and flirtatious tone in it✨

100% stops playing guitar the whole night and decides to cook lunch for you

even though he’s just met you but also as an apology for last night

Bonus:

he shows off his collection of guitars to you

Hoping that you won’t find his collection/hobby to be too dorky

Of course, plays a couple songs trying to impress you too 😭 (he’s so cute)

Maybe even learns your favorite song(s) whenever he finally asks you out/to be official

Finds you adorable whenever you try to play a couple of chords… even if they’re so wrong 💀

Gladly walks you to class even if he has to run all the way to the other side of campus for his class (even though you told him to stop doing that when you learn about this)

100% smirks but also gets embarrassed when he learned that you forget what you were going to yell at him about the first time y’all met because of how handsome he was

This was so much shorter than I intended on but my brain blanked on what else to add 😭 oops but also I like getting straight to point 💀💀

Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed this! If you did, please leave me feedback through reblogging it with your thoughts in the tags or commenting it, notes, dms, or asks! They’re all appreciated and make me very happy :))

Take care and signing off

- ash

[sunarots]

pairing: rintarou suna x gn!reader (pet names: babe)

word count: 3k

cw: strong language, v brief mentions of harassment before the cut, alcohol use, kind of cheating??,, angst w happy ending (i fell in love w him writing this)

luna speaks: bye i’ve been thinking ab green day a lot recently so heres the loml in a rock band <33

Going into university without a scholarship, it meant you were tight on cash all the time. To make matters worse, the only place hiring was a small, dark bar off the main road by your flat. For seven months, it was hell. You had kicked out more drunk idiots than you could count, and had been flirted with even more often.

On the eight month mark, your last straw was when your boss revealed he was leaving you alone for the night with someone who had two days of training whilst there was a band due to be playing. That night, you were the closest to quitting you had ever been. By seven o’clock, the band was fifteen minutes late and you had already put a stop to two fights. And your coworker? Scrolling through her phone, and ignoring the man trying to get her attention.

You couldn’t take it anymore, so you marched over and took the phone from her hands. You ignored her frustrated yells after you as she was left to fend for herself for ten seconds so you could shove her phone in your boss’s desk; out of sight, out of mind. When you returned, you brushed past her without so much as a glance despite her begging for her phone.

“Do your fucking job, you’ll get it back at the end of the night when you’ve done something useful.”

You picked up two dirty glasses that were placed in front of you, shoving them in the glass washer before turning to face him.

His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, leaning so far over bar you could smell the ash and mint from where you stood. One hand fixed the chain around his neck, the other rest on the counter, fingers tapping the wood with the music from your carefully curated spotify playlist to keep you sane. He flashed you a boyish smile when you caught his gaze, almost certain he had been checking you out.

“What can I get you?”

“Three pints and a double whiskey, please.” He straightened up when you pulled out three pint glasses, carefully filling them all to the top.

You brought two of the glasses back over, nodding your head when you spotted a couple of people walk in with guitar cases. You gestured over to the stage area, letting out a sigh of relief that didn’t go unnoticed by your customer. He looked over his shoulder, noticing the cases and turning back.

“Everything okay?”

“Um...” You picked up two of the more popular whiskeys, waiting for him to decide before pouring him a double measure. “The band is late, but they just came in. These people will finally calm the fuck down and hopefully no more glasses will be broken in arguments over who’s hotter.”

He flashed you a smile, taking the whiskey from you and drinking it in one. He passed it back over to you, shaking his head when you went to pick up the card machine. “Oh, add it to our tab. Do you have any song requests? I can see what I can do for you.”

Oh? Oh. “You’re from the band?” you asked, even though you already knew from the look on his face. With the heat rushing to your cheeks, you couldn’t have been happier about the bar having dim lighting than you were in that moment.

Somehow, his smile grew wider as the music from your playlist changed. “Is this your music? You have taste. I’ll dedicate a song to ya, what’s your name?”

“Y/n.”

He picked up the three beers, nodding his head. “First song is for you, y/n.”

You watched him hurry towards the cornered off area where his two bandmates were sat in wait of their drinks, everything set up. You paused your music, watching as the mystery man sipped his beer before slinging a guitar around his neck. He tapped the microphone, leaning in to it.

“Testing, testing.”

You grabbed a bottle of sake from the fridge and the card machine, holding it up to one of your regulars.

“Thanks for coming here tonight, sorry for keeping you waiting. I’m Sunarin, and we’re Raijin.” He pulled back from the mic, laughing softly at the applause. “This first song is for a special someone, this night wouldn’t be happening without them. They’re here tonight, working behind the bar.”

You felt your coworker’s presence by your side, leaning on her toes to try get a better view past the customers. You stepped back, leaning against the warm glass washer and locking eyes with Sunarin.

“Y/n, I hope you have the time your life.”

You couldn’t help but smile at him, watching intently as he started playing the first few notes of your favourite song.

For the four hours they played, you struggled to take your eyes off Sunarin. And you knew he could say the same about you. Whenever you looked away to tend to your job, you would look back and his eyes would still be rest upon you. Even at the end of the show, tidying up, he still couldn’t look away.

You had your coworker clearing down the tables whilst you were counting out the tips for the night, considering sneaking some extra notes for yourself. You did do more work…

“Can I close our tab?”

You spun around at the sound of his voice, trying to stop the smile from showing. “Yep.” You picked up the card machine, scrolling through to find their name.

“So, what did you think?” The corner of his lips tugged up into a lopsided grin, his eagerness showing. He slid his card over to you to tap when ready.

“You’re really good. Do you play often?”

“Yeah. You should see us sometime, out of work. Then you can have a front row view.”

You held the card out to him, an eyebrow raised. “Depends. Will you dedicate another song to me?”

He laughed, soft like honey. “I’ll dedicate every song to you, babe.”

Their next performance was at a club you were familiar with, frequenting there with your friends on the weeks where you have very little classwork. You weaved through the people with three drinks in your hands, managing to squeeze your way to the front where your friends were stood.

“I, uh, got you a double whiskey and a pint.”

Rintarou looked up from his guitar, eyes growing wide. “Well, well. Look who remembered my order.” He set his guitar down, stepping over to you and taking his drinks. “You must like me,” he teased with a wink, shooting back the whiskey and setting it on the chair by his guitar along with the pint glass.

Thankful for the dim lighting hiding your blush, you shrugged your shoulders and took a sip from your own drink. “I’m a bartender, if I don’t know people’s orders I’ll get fired.”

He shook his head, picking up his guitar and waving to his bandmates. “Nah, you like me.”

Rintarou backed up onto the stage, eyes kept on you the entire time. He tapped on the microphone, tested it, and cleared his throat. “My name is Sunarin, we’re Raijin. I’d like to dedicate this concert to a very special someone. Y/n, have the time of your life.”

At the end of the show, when everyone’s eyes were still on the band, Rintarou walked down towards you and held out his guitar pick. It was a marble one, gold with black with an S on it. You took it from him carefully, a sparkle in your eyes.

“Keep it. It’s yours now.”

On your two year anniversary, Rintarou swore to you he would make it up to you. He promised that he would finish up in the studio quick, that you would only be in there waiting for forty-five minutes before you made your reservations. He sat you down in the chair his manager usually sat in, gave you a pair of headphones. Told you to listen, prayed you’d like it.

“We recording? Hey, y/n. Happy two years together, I hope you had the time of your life. This one’s for you.”

For thirty-seven minutes, you sat and listened to ten songs written by your boyfriend. His heart, his soul, all on a record for the world to hear. The album he had been working on with his band so intently. Every thought, every feeling he had about you for the last two years, coming through the headphones.

When the end of the last song played, you couldn’t find the words. You sat in silence, staring at Rintarou’s reflection in the glass before you. His eyes stay on you, just like always.

When you finally managed to face him with tears in your eyes, his heart dropped. For a second, his world started to shatter. You hated it. It was too raw, you couldn’t face him. He reached to remove your headphones, stopping in his tracks.

You threw yourself into his hold, burying your face in the crook of his neck. There weren’t enough words in all languages combined to describe your love for him. Instead, you pulled back from him and took his face in your hands. “You are my rock.”

His lips tugged upwards, fighting back tears of his own. “You are my world. Come on, let’s make our reservations.”

Your third year anniversary was spent in Rome, one day before the last concert of Raijin’s world tour. You sat watching him from a chair on a private balcony, glass doors only opening when food was being delivered. His fingers softly strummed an all too familiar tune on an acoustic guitar.

The door behind you slid open, an older man carrying a tray with two drinks and a dessert you hadn’t ordered. On the house, he had assured, carefully setting them before you both and retreating to the restaurant once again.

Rintarou set the guitar aside, picking up his glass and holding it towards you. “Thank you, for travelling with me. I couldn’t have done this without you by my side.”

You remembered the stress in the air around him packing, confused on what to bring when he’ll be gone for seven months. You assured him he’d be able to wash his clothes, get them freshened. Talked him through it all. When he asked you to come with him, you were concerned he’d regret it.

“What if you want to go out with the boys after?”

“Then I want you to come out with us after, too.”

You tapped your glass against his, taking a sip of the cocktail before speaking, “I wouldn’t have been able to sit at home with you here. I can’t sleep without you.”

Rintarou dug his spoon into the tiramisu, holding it out for you to taste. He watches you intently, taking in every movement you make, the way you covered your mouth when you pulled back from him.

“I feel the same.” He took a bite of the dessert for himself, setting the spoon down on the tabletop and leaning back in his seat.

Your gaze followed his onto the skyline, a view of the city from above. “It’s so beautiful here. I wish we had more time.”

“We have all the time in the world, babe.”

You turned back around, taking a sip from your cocktail. You set the glass back down, facing the empty chair across from you. Turning your head in confusion, you set your gaze at him knelt beside you, holding up a sleek, black box.

“I want to spend the rest of my life, having the time of our lives.”

A year and a half later, his hands rest on your hips, swaying along with you slowly to the same song you had danced to at the start of the night. Your uncomfortable shoes had been discarded long ago, not long after your first dance, sat carefully perched upon the chair you ate your meal in. You held him as close as you could, hearing him whispering along to the song in your ear.

“I know we’ll have the time of our life.”

Two nights ago, you were sat at your dining table, head held in your hands with your fingers massaging your temples. Rintarou paced back and forth in front of you, attempting to take deep breaths to calm himself down.

You lifted your head, hands dropping to the table, looked at him. “Rin, sit down.”

He shook his head, turning to face you with his eyebrows forced together. “Why? So you can sit there and nag at me? How many fucking times, y/n? She kissed me! I pushed her away, but the cameras didn’t capture that, did they? They never fucking do.”

“That’s not why I’m hurt, Rin. It was one week ago, why didn’t you tell me?” You could feel the tears trying to escape. “You tried to cover it up. You and the band tried to hide it from me. I thought we were meant to be open and honest with each other.” Your eyes flickered over to the frame hung on the wall: glass, a polaroid of the two of you when you first met, the guitar pick. Engraved in gold at the bottom, have the time of your life.

“I didn’t want you to think anything of it!” Rintarou sighed, pulling out the seat across from you. He sat, clasping his hands and resting them on the tabletop. “I love you, y/n. I don’t care about some- some crazy fucking fan who said she wanted a picture and then kissed me for it. I pushed her away. I swear it.”

Your eyes never moved from the picture of you both, so young and early into the relationship. His arms around your neck, pulling you in closer to him. Both of you with wide smiles, you looking at him in adoration.

When you didn’t respond, his attention turned to the frame on the wall. All he could focus on was the engraved phrase at the bottom. He didn’t notice his vision getting blurry, his cheeks getting wet.

“What happened?”

Your eyes drifted over to him, eyebrows raising at his words. Part of you wanted to laugh at how stupid his question was. “Rin, we’ve been married two years. ‘What happened?’ You did. You did a month long tour and didn’t invite me with you, you didn’t consult me. You just said you were going on a tour. And when you get back, I see you kissing another girl all over the news after… You have made me look like a fool.” You watched him dry his tears, unable to conceal high emotions anymore.

He cleared his throat, tapped his fingers against the table. “Please, how can I make it up to you, y/n? I have to make it up to you.”

You hesitated, trying to force back tears of your own. “I want you to give me some space for a few days. I need to think.”

Rintarou knows what you meant when you said that. He sits waiting on your doorstep for you to come home from work, having left his key inside without realising. He knows you’re thinking about whether or not you should leave him, start over with someone who wouldn’t fuck you over, stop showing their love for you. He knows you deserve better, but he wants to be the best for you.

When he spots your car pulling up in the driveway, he’s on his feet in an instant. He collects the bouquet of flowers for you and holds them behind his back, an attempt to hide them. Rintarou watches you intently, can see you considering whether or not you should just drive away. He sighs in relief when you open the car door and start walking towards him.

You stop a foot away from him, lips quivering at the sight. He hasn’t changed out of the clothes he had left in, his hair unkempt and eyes sunken in and almost lifeless. He struggles to find the words, lips apart but nothing coming out. Instead, he pulls out the flowers and holds them out to you with shaking hands.

“These are for you.”

You take them from him cautiously, but your eyes don’t move from his. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding, and throw your arms around him. You bury your face in his jacket, making an attempt to hold back your tears. “I didn’t think you were coming back,” you admit, pulling back and cupping his face in your free hand.

He leans further into your touch, the warmth of your hand something he never wants to pull away from. “I can’t lose you, y/n. I’m nothing without you.” Rintarou’s voice cracks midway through, and his tears start falling. “I’m so sorry I lied to you. I’ll never do it again. I should have told you. I can’t- I need you with me. You matter more to me than anything, even music. I would burn every guitar in the world if it meant I could hug you for five seconds.”

You swallow your heartbeat, taking in a deep breath through your nose. “Rin-“

“I can’t breathe if you’re not in my life. I mean it, y/n, all this time I’ve been saying I hope you have the time of your life because I do. I want you to, and I want it to be with me. So badly, I do, even if I stole it from Billie Joe Armstrong, I need it to be true. If you want to get even, you can. You could go out and kiss four hundred people and I wouldn’t care as long as you came back to sleep in my arms afterwards.”

Rintarou’s hold on you grows weaker as more tears begin to fall. “Please, just give me one more chance.”

You wipe at his tears with your thumb, a deep ache in your chest. “I love you, Rin. So much,” you promise him, moving your hand away from his face to wipe at his own tears. “Please don’t leave me again after a fight, no matter how much I beg. Just leave the room, but sleep in the same bed as me. It’s so empty without you.”

He lets out a soft cry of relief, dropping his head and letting it fall against your shoulder. He snakes his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer to him. “You’re stuck with me forever.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[artydonsgf]

Hi, I know Mike fiast has a dog and not sure if you only write about art or mike but can I request Mike with his dog and a story regarding y/n - any direction works

hi! i forgot to add it to my rules but i don’t really write about actors/real people, all my work is fictional characters because that’s what’s comfortable to me. that’s on me though, but i did write a meet cute with art n his dog! please enjoy<3

“Stop!” The single word is so desperate, you can’t help but look up. Right as your eyes left the book in your hand, a speeding object hits you right in the chest. Everything goes flying, your book now ruined a few feet away. Your head snaps to the ground, your vision briefly going black as a result. You’re still on the floor when the same voice keeps yelling.

“Bad boy! No!” The sound of running fills your ears. You’re hauled up until you’re sitting, making the green of the grass and the blue of the sky blend together. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to control the nausea rising in your stomach.

“Are you alright? Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” a voice frantically checks on you. The stranger places a hand over your hair. You finally stop swaying enough to put a hand up.

“Please stop yelling,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. You swallow another wave of nausea.

“Oh fuck, I’m so sorry,” the voice quiets but not by much. You crack an eye open, not really sure what you’d find. Crouched in front of you is a boy your age. His blue eyes are crinkled with worry and his blonde curls stick to his forehead, slick with sweat. The rush in your head stops a fraction. The hand that isn’t on your head is wrapped around the collar of his dog, effectively calming the puppy down. “Racket is only a puppy and I’ve been trying to train him to be less-,” he starts ranting.

“Not to interrupt or judge, but you named your dog Racket?” You both interrupt and judge in the same breath. The stressed look on his face melts away, now replaced with a puzzled look.

“I’m a tennis player, it only felt right,” he explained, his hand still situated on your head. You slowly nod. The dimples on his cheeks deepen with a smile. A click sounds in your brain and you recognize the boy in front of you.

“You’re Art Donaldson!” You move too fast and speak too loud and the sharp pain in your head is a swift punishment. He grabs your shoulder to steady you before nodding. His smile somehow getting bigger.

“You recognize me?” He sounds bashful. You give him a look before throwing a glance at the poster pinned to the tree behind him. A picture of Art is plastered over it with details of his upcoming game. There’s one on every tree in the park. His cheeks turn pink. “I didn’t actually think they’d put it on every tree,” he explains. You nod, still dizzy. It’s only then he remembers that his dog knocked you over. “You need a doctor. Can I bring you to the athletic trainer?” He points to a nearby building. You nod, getting ready to gather your things. He beats you to it and soon, your bag is slung around his shoulder. Racket sniffs at your feet but with a stern warning from Art, he walks forward with no issue. When you finally arrive at the trainer, Art explains what happened and waits patiently until you’re assessed.

“You likely have a very mild concussion. Keep an eye on your symptoms and if they worsen after about three days, please see your primary doctor,” The athletic trainer tells you, strapping a ice pack your head. “And if you can, stay with someone. This is just in case you end up passing out.” She pats your hand and gives you a lollipop on your way out the door.

“Thank you for bringing me,” you turn to Art with a smile. The ice pack strapped your head probably makes your face look a little wonky. “I’ll see you around.” You start to turn away but he grabs your hand.

“Wait,” he turns red upon realizing he grabbed you. “Do you have anyone to stay with?” He drops your hand and starts running his fingers through his hair. Your eyebrows shoot up, though your face looks squished.

“Yeah, my roomate is getting back from spring break in a few days, I’ll be fine,” you start to turn again but he stops you once more.

“I’m just a little worried, do you mind if I check up on you? Maybe through text?” He fishes his phone out of his pocket, dropping it in the process. Your head pounds still but butterflies start to flutter in your stomach.

“Are you asking me for my number?” Your sly look is thrown off once more by the ice pack but his face turns an even deeper shade of red anyway. He clears his throat.

“Yes, I am. I want to make sure my dog isn’t the reason a pretty girl gets irreversible brain damage,” he says with a grimace that is somehow adorable despite its awkwardness. You grab his phone and tap your number in, dropping an emoji with a bandage next to your name.

“We’ll work on your flirting techniques, I’ll see you around,” you wiggle your fingers before crouching down to gently rub Racket’s head. As you walk away, you decide that the concussion was worth it if it meant meeting Art Donaldson.

i know this isn’t exactly what you were looking for but i hope you enjoy anyway!! idk how concussions actually work by the way. thank you for the request n as always, feel free to request something again! mwah mwah mwah

[booksandabeer]

Ramblings on Fandom: Peggy Carter, Steve Rogers, Delusional Shippers, and Alleged Misogyny

So with the release of Season 2 of What If…? emotions are once again running high, the outrage is outraging, and people are up in arms about the whole Captain Carter situation. While I do think that some reactions are a little overblown, even needlessly aggressive in tone to the unfortunate detriment of their otherwise convincing arguments, I share the confusion and frustration about the sudden centering of a long-dead & never excessively popular character, the sidelining of the Steve-Bucky friendship, and the as-inexplicable-as-it-is-total exclusion of Sam Wilson as Captain America. However, I’m not here to talk about the show because (1) I haven’t watched this season and have no plans to (why waste time torturing myself with something I know I’ll hate?) and (2) other people have already written dozens of metas about it, so what could I possibly add at this point.

What I do want need to talk about (lest I explode) is something that has irritated me for a long time and that is now happening again: Every time someone even mildly criticizes Peggy Carter, expresses doubts about her suitability as a heroine, or even just questions her disproportionate importance to the franchise post-EG, inevitably a certain section of fans will come out of the woodwork to immediately throw around accusations of misogyny and yell about how we’re all just a bunch of delusional Stuckies who are mad that she got "in the way" of our ship. Sigh.

This is gonna be a long one, so I’ll put it under a cut. Rant incoming. You've been warned. If you don't want to read, simply keep scrolling.

First of all, let me state very clearly that I’m not debating the existence of misogyny and sexism in fandom spaces—or in the media from which these fandoms originate. At all. It exists, it’s a thing, I’m not denying that. Which is exactly why it frustrates me endlessly to see these accusations thrown around as a gotcha! argument to shut down any and all critical debate around a female character. All it does in the end is escalate rhetoric and radicalize attitudes.  

In the case of Peggy Carter, specifically her treatment by Stucky shippers, I’ve always found 'misogyny as a motive' to be a largely unsubstantiated accusation.¹ Now, I neither presume nor do I want to speak for the entirety of Stuckynation, so I will not claim that there aren't corners of the fandom where people discuss her in ways that I find off-putting and deeply unserious, but I will say this: If you genuinely believe that disliking one (1) fictional female character equals “hating all women” and wanting to suppress and marginalize their presence in fiction and real life alike—then I think we need to take that word away from you until you’ve learned its true meaning.

You might also want to ask yourself how exactly reducing a female character to a mute trophy wife or a heroine who has to act out her love interest’s recycled storylines helps your feminist fight.

As for the “getting in the way of your ship” part of the argument. Very simply put: No character can get in the way of something if there never ever was “a way” to that something to begin with. “Being mad” implies that there was a reasonable expectation that wasn’t met, a substantive hope that was crushed. Now, I’ve said this before and I’ll gladly say it again a million more times: No Stucky shipper in their right mind ever truly thought that there was even the slightest chance that Marvel Studios owned by the Walt Disney Company would allow Steve “Captain America” Rogers and Bucky “Winter Soldier” Barnes to be canonized as an explicitly romantic pairing in their billion dollar franchise. Be serious. That was never in the cards. I wish we all lived in a world where it was, but we don’t, and it wasn’t. The best we could ever hope for was for Steve and Bucky to get a good, satisfying, in-character ending. And if, in Steve’s case, that would’ve included hints (or more) about a possible rekindling of his, uh, aborted romance with Sharon—then so be it. But we never got any of that. The characters never got any of that. Instead they sent Steve into 1950s suburban hell, literally trapped him behind a white picket fence, and condemned him to a life of passivity and lies, all so he could be married to a woman he barely knew a long time ago in a completely different world; who built and ran a top-to-bottom Hydra-infested organization, but apparently never noticed that there was anything wrong with her life's work. For decades. Great. As for Bucky—well, we’ve all seen the devastatingly grim-faced, utterly lonely, and deeply sad version of him that was presented to us in TFATWS. Happy endings all around, I guess.

So. Am I mad that Steve didn’t get to ride into the rainbow-colored sunset with Bucky at the end of EG? No. Because that was never going to happen anyway. Would I have been mad had he ended up with Sharon or another female character in the 21st century? Also no. Granted, I wouldn’t have been ecstatic about it, but mad? No. But am I mad that Steve ended up with this specific female character under these specific circumstances as presented in canon? Fuck yeah, I am.

The thing is: I personally believe Steve and Peggy to be fundamentally incompatible when it comes to the way they view the world and their respective places in it; their morals and values; their capacity for compassion and empathy; their ability and willingness to compartmentalize, compromise, and collaborate with people and institutions whose ethics and/or politics do not align with their own. I have a real hard time believing that a relationship between these two (or worse, a hasty marriage) could be either happy or long-lasting.

I don’t believe Peggy to be inherently evil, I don’t hate her, I simply think she operates within a different moral framework than Steve (and even genuinely believes it to be a righteous one).² Your mileage may vary, but I personally happen to find that framework reprehensible, even indecent, and ultimately dangerous. After all, over the course of the 20th century, we have seen exactly where that kind of “the ends justify the means” brand of pragmatism leads—over and over again. Not to mention that the people who use this line of argument to defend characters like Peggy (or real-life politicians for that matter) never seem to want to look too closely at who gets to define what "the ends" are in the first place and who decides when they've finally been met.

(Never. The answer is never.)

And to be clear, there is absolutely nothing wrong with depicting, and even centering a narrative around a morally (dark)gray character—oftentimes it’s actually the more interesting option—but you cannot at the same time claim that they are purely good and should be only admired as such when their actions literally tell an entirely different story.

So, no. I will not accept Peggy Carter as the shining aspirational heroine that the MCU so badly wants to sell her to me as—while simultaneously continuing to reveal things that paint an increasingly darker picture of her character. And I will certainly not celebrate seeing one of my favorite characters of all time—whose defining trait was that he couldn't ignore "a situation pointed south"; who used to fight for the little guy and against the establishment; who once said about the very organization that Peggy Carter helped build that it was so corrupt, it all needed to go—rendered morally inert for some hollow happy ending that may as well be a conservative’s wet dream full of false nostalgia for an America that never really existed. I cannot find it in me to be anything less but mad about that.

But that does not make me a misogynist. It does not make me a delusional shipper. It makes me someone who looks at what the MCU has been telling me about Peggy Carter for years now—over and over again—and takes it at its own word.

--------

¹ If you’ve actually read a a fair number of Stucky(!) fanfics you will have noticed that the reverence afforded to and "page time" devoted to her character and her relationship with Steve is somewhat disproportionate to anything that's backed up by canon—well, up until EG, where she was suddenly reanimated as The Great Love of Steve’s Life—and in my experience, it's highly unusual for any fandom to put so much (mostly) positive attention on another character, let alone a potential love interest that is not part of the endgame ship.

² I also want to emphasize that if you love Peggy and she's your fave: good for you! I genuinely have no beef with you. People can agree to disagree. All I ask for is that we maybe stop willfully ignoring the less savory aspects of her character. You don't need to pretend she's perfect to justify your affection for her. I LOVE Steve, and yet I have no problem conceding that he is FAR from perfect.

[hannahbarberra162]

Can't Fix Fix A Broken Heart, Chapter 25

18+ MDNI

On Ao3

All other chapters

Tate has devised a plan to get a Girls Trip™ for the two of you, you just need to execute it to perfection.

I definitely don’t dream about having Ace snuggling me when I’m on my period. Like a living weighted blanket who would say sweet things into my ear. That is definitely not a wish of mine and complete self-indulgence.

~

This is the set up for the divergent endings. The good ending will be first, the bad ending will be last.

The next morning, you knocked on the door to the women’s quarters, holding your sketches under your arm. You knew you didn’t need to knock, it had been your living space too at some point. But it didn’t feel right to barge in unannounced. A very hungover looking Heidi cracked open the door and smiled weakly at you.

“What’s up?” she rasped at you. Evidently, more nurses than just Tate had a wild night. 

“Is Tate up? I was hoping to get a few minutes with her before work.” You had all your ideas with you, you were ready to show her some and see which ones she liked.

“Yeah, gimme a sec,” Heidi replied, opening the door all the way. “Tate!” she yelled. There was a chorus of ‘shhhhh’ that rang out among the darkened room. Tate shuffled up to the door, looking worse for the wear. You smirked at her.

“How’re you feeling?” you asked with a bright smile. She glared at you, but without malice. “C’mon, I’ll make you my hangover cure. Chug it and we’ll chat after that.” Tate blinked slowly, but shuffled out the door and put her arm in yours. The two of you walked silently down the halls together, ending in the kitchen. Just like with Ace, you sat her down while you made your drink of lemon, honey, vinegar, chili peppers, seltzer, and a little dash of secret ingredient. Tate emphatically frowned when you handed it to her, but shrugged. 

“Can’t be worse than whatever I drank last night,” she lamented. “Bottoms up,” she said, chugging the drink. You handed her the water right after, which she sipped. “So, I remember some of what we talked about last night. Did you say that you finished the sketches?” 

You grinned at her, putting the drawings in front of her. “I did, we can go over them together and see what you like and what we need to change.” You spread them out, showing her your ideas. “Basically, these are mix and match pieces in a few colors. You can pair any of the tops with any of the bottoms for a good outfit. I even included skirts of various lengths in case you…miss…the mini skirts,” you finished with a wink. “I thought darker fabrics would be better in the case of bodily fluids. Teal and periwinkle tend to be universally flattering, no matter your skin tone, but black or gray are also good choices. In terms of fabric, cotton would be a good choice but we’ll have to go to a fabric store and find some samples…” You went on about dye lots, fabric blends, and clothing cuts, explaining everything in detail to Tate. She nodded along, looking through the sketches. 

“So, what do you think? What can we change to suit your needs better?” you asked the now revived nurse. 

“Absolutely nothing. These are incredible! I love the long pants, it’s so annoying to wash other people’s blood off the tops of your thighs.” She was looking over the drafts intensely, making notes with a pencil she had. “I have nothing to add other than you’re a genius. Let’s get off the boat at the next large island and get some samples. Make a whole day of it,” she said, putting her hand over yours and smiling kindly. You smiled back, but were unsure. You had a feeling it would take a lot of convincing for Marco to let you off the ship. “I’ll work on Marco,” Tate said as if reading your mind, “I have a plan.”

You felt lighter after your brief meeting with Tate. She had to go back to the infirmary for work and you had to go to breakfast. While you ate, Thatch was pretending to be upset with you because he found out that Ace had joined you and Marco for the night. You could tell he wasn’t actually upset but you still felt like you had to walk on eggshells.

“But we did that too, remember?” you reminded Thatch. “Ace came in once when you were brushing my hair for me?” You were seated on Thatch’s lap, like always, eating whatever he was serving you. And, like always, it was delicious. 

“ Mija, of course I remember, Ace snores like a train and burns hotter than the sun when he’s dreaming of you,” Thatch scoffed. He speared another forkful of eggs and brought it to your mouth. You opened without thinking and chewed the gooey, cheesy dish. “Look mami , you ate it all, I’m so proud of you!” Thatch kissed the top of your head. Recently you noticed you gained some weight, your clothes were fitting differently. You felt physically well, better than you had in a long time. You couldn’t say the same for your emotional well being, but at least some part of you was healing. 

“Thanks to you,” you said, giving Thatch a kiss on the cheek. He really was a good chef, and you were in a good mood from your conversation with Tate that morning. 

“Someone’s feeling well,” Thatch commented. You hummed, you didn’t want to reveal your plans with Tate yet. It would take a lot of convincing but you thought she figured out a way to get off the ship together for a day. Thatch kissed you again, this time on your mouth, and set you down. You went off to work, feeling energized and ready to take on the day. 

Until later that morning. 

You felt a long gone but familiar sensation of cramping in your lower stomach. One of the only upsides to being starved half to death was that you lost your period for a long time. Obviously, it was a sign of incredibly poor health, but you liked to look on the bright side of things. You always had terrible cramps when you had your period, and it looked like this time would be no exception. You put your hand on your lower stomach, you needed to talk to the nurses quickly. You apologized to Blenheim, promising to fix his scabbard later in the day. You scurried off to the infirmary, hoping to avoid Marco.

Logically, you knew Marco was a doctor and had studied the female reproductive system. But you still felt much more comfortable talking to other women about menstruation than men. You slunk into the clinic, quickly ducking into one of the unoccupied examination rooms. Peeking through the cracked door, you waited until you saw a lurid pink miniskirt pass by the door. You darted out, scaring Bethany, who dropped her clipboard.

“You can’t just pop out at people like that!” she scolded you. 

“Sorry,” you replied sheepishly. “I need pads and tampons, can I use the ones in the women’s bathroom here?” you whispered. There weren’t many women’s restrooms on the ship, you only knew of the ones in the infirmary and connected to the women’s quarters.

“Sure, they’re communal. You don’t need to ask,” Bethany replied at full volume. You hoped Marco wasn’t listening in.

“Thanks, see you later.” You sped off to the women’s bathroom in the infirmary, grabbing what you needed. You were still wearing a stupid dress, but you swiped some underwear from the clean patient laundry. They were too big, but it was better than nothing. If Marco was mad, well, he could solve the problem himself. Leaving the bathroom, you jumped as you saw the very man you were trying to avoid leaning against the opposing wall. Served you right for surprising Bethany, you supposed.

“Everything alright?” Marco asked, assessing you with his eyes. He was in doctor mode, which made you feel more comfortable. You knew what to expect when he was like this, he was professional, detached, and had good bedside manner.

“Oh, um, yeah. I just got um, my…period.” Marco smiled kindly at you.

“Congratulations yoi. It’s a sign of recovery. However, the first menstruation after extensive amenorrhea is often quite painful. I recommend you go lay down, rest and relax.” Even though it was phrased as a clinical recommendation, you knew it was an order. 

“Ok Marco. Where should I go? I don’t want to ruin any-” Marco waved off your concerns.

“We’re all adults here, no one is upset by the human body. Ace cleaned his room, would you like to go there?” You tried to hide your disgust when you thought about Ace’s room and the last time you’d seen it. Marco laughed.

“I understand your hesitation yoi, but I checked it myself. It’s clean and always the perfect temperature. Go there. I’ll give you some medicine to take with you.” Marco left to rummage in a nearby cart, grabbing a bottle of low grade pain killers. “Take two, and drink some water. I’ll have Ace check on you in an hour or two.” Marco kissed you on your head, turned you around by your shoulders and sent you off with a little push. You didn’t feel that bad, you’d been having your period for many years. Going to lay down preemptively was overkill, you thought, but you weren’t going to disagree with Marco.

An hour later and you were glad Marco had sent you to lay down. You remembered having cramps, of course, but nothing like this. You were curled up on Ace’s freshly made bed, writhing in pain. After the first wave of cramps, you’d taken the pain killers, but they weren’t getting close to helping with the pain. Marco had stopped by briefly, bringing you tea, a hot water bottle, and tucking you under the covers. You asked him to heal you but he said there wasn’t anything wrong with you, that it was excess uterine lining being shed normally. There was nothing to heal, so his flames wouldn’t do anything. He had a busy day and couldn’t stay long but promised to send Ace up. 

In between pains so intense you thought your stomach was being sliced in half, you took a look around Ace’s room. It was so much better than the first time you’d been in the room. He had cleaned out all the food, all the old papers, and done his laundry. Marco was right, it was warm and cozy. You weren’t sure if it was the room itself or if it was somehow the residual effects of his Mera Mera, but you didn’t care. You tried closing your eyes and falling asleep but the closest you could get was dozing in and out of consciousness. 

Creaking, the door opened, and you heard Ace ending a conversation. You kept your back turned to the door and pretended to be asleep in case he could see you.

“ - don’t think she likes it, not like I do…” Ace sounded doubtful about whatever it was. 

“Remember how you were when you joined yoi? All anger and fury? And now look at us,” you could tell he was speaking with Marco. “Give it some time, it will be everything you ever wanted. Family and love, happiness and a place where you belong, all here with us. Here, give her these,” Ace hummed, and it sounded like they kissed. Footsteps told you Marco left, and Ace opened the door, holding a few bottles of pills. He spotted you on his bed and kicked off his shoes, putting the bottles on his desk. You really wanted to ask him about what they were talking about but didn’t have the courage to admit you were listening in to their private conversation. 

“Poor baby,” he said, as you heard him taking off his pants and knife.

“S’ok,” you replied, stretching a little. Ace got into the bed with you, crawling behind you. You whined, you didn’t want to be manhandled right now. You saw Marco had given Ace a bottle of vitamins and another of anti-nausea medication for you. You'd take them later, you couldn't move right now.

“Shhhh. S’gonna be alright.” Ace curled up behind you, spooning you. He moved your hands away from your lower stomach and replaced them with his own. You felt the gentle warmth of his Mera Mera heating you. You mewled and scooted backwards, snuggling into him. Ace buried his face in your neck and held you closer. He let you relax and drift to sleep, holding you tightly in his arms. 

It was a challenging few days for you. Your period was lighter than it normally was, but extremely painful. You didn’t leave Ace’s room much, spending your time reading and thinking about your reply letter to Vista’s brothers. Thatch, Ace, and Marco all visited as they could, with Ace staying with you at night. They were actually…sweet. You wished they were always this way, then you’d have no doubts about staying on the ship with them. Thatch brought you desserts and savory food in equal measure and gave you massages when your muscles were tight. He didn’t make you sit on his lap but let you eat by yourself in Ace’s bed. He tried to hand feed you, but sulkily accepted when you declined. Marco brought you medicine, tea, pads, and more books from his collection. He made sure you were physically comfortable, bringing loose pants, extra blankets and pillows. Ace, of course, warmed you up and snuggled with you until you thought you would merge together on an atomic level. You were thankful he let you hole up in his room.

“Sorry, I know it can’t be easy having me in here all the time,” you said to Ace on the third day. You were laying in bed together, limbs entangled, facing each other. Ace was still dozing after the night you’d spent in each other’s arms. You were brushing his freckles lightly with your fingertips. You were feeling better, you’d be out of his room by the afternoon, you thought.

��S’great. Wish’is all the time,” Ace mumbled. “Would lock you in here’f I could,” he continued, putting his chin on the top of your head. You sighed because you knew that when you got up, you would be back to your previous life of rules and punishments from the three Commanders. You nuzzled deeper into Ace’s arms, keeping the real world at bay for just a few hours longer.

~~~

A few days later, you needed to find Ace once more. You and Tate thought you had figured out a way to finagle a girl’s day out of the Commanders. The two of you wanted to stop at the next big island, coming up in about a week. It was close to the calm belt, but you’d actually been to the island years prior. It was known for its large textile factory and incredible fabric inventory. You’d done a few fashion shows there, maybe you could use some of your previous fame to get a discount on fabrics, or at least try to. It also had a day spa that was known for its wet saunas and hot tubs. You really wanted to go with Tate and enjoy a relaxing girls trip. Tate’s plan would require you to be crafty and a little conniving, but it would be worth it if it worked out. 

Ace was going to go on a mission later that morning, you needed to find him quickly. He was still inhaling food in the mess hall after you’d eaten breakfast. You waited for him outside the mess hall, wanting to speak to him in private. When he left, you grabbed him by the arm and pulled him aside. You looked up at him with hope in your eyes.

“Ace, can I get off the ship with Tate at the next island? They have a fabric store I want to go to. Please?” You weren’t sure this would work, but you really wanted to go to the fabric store in person. 

“Ah, I don’t think so. You’ll have to ask -” you stopped Ace from talking by pulling him down by his hat string to kiss him. You kissed him deeply, holding him at the back of his neck. All that time you’d spent with him in bed had you feeling connected to him, and you hoped the reverse was true as well.

“Please?” you asked again in a pleading tone. Ace smiled at you, disarmed by the forward display of affection.

“I know you’re trying to manipulate me, but I have to say, it’s working. OK, as long as someone’s with you. Ask Thatch or Marco, though, just to be sure. I’ll be gone by the time the Moby’s docking at the next island, and I’m not sure when I’ll be back.” 

“Thank you Ace! Thank you, thank you” you kissed his cheeks every time you thanked him, making Ace smile even wider.

“You should ask me for favors more often, I like the way this is going.” Ace husked. He pulled you against him, you could feel his growing erection through his shorts. You rubbed up against him a little bit, teasing him.

“Let’s finish this in a bit, I need to go eat breakfast and Thatch doesn’t like when I’m late,” you replied. One last kiss to Ace and you were on your way. The first part of your plan had been a success.

Next, you waited until it was lunchtime. You were extra good for Thatch, complimenting his cooking and allowing him to feed you without complaint. You finished about two thirds of your food before you started talking to him about the island.

“Thatch, I have a favor I want to ask you,” you began, eyes wide.

“If I can grant it, I will mami. What do you need?” Thatch rubbed your palm with his thumb.

“Can I get off the ship with Tate at the next island? There’s a fabric store I want to go to for the new nurses’ uniforms.” You looked at Thatch hopefully.

“Ah. No, I don’t think so. I don’t want -”

“But Ace already said yes, I was so excited,” you said while making yourself cry. Tears fell down your face and you twisted the knife in Thatch’s heart. “I t-told Tate we could g-go, and I was going to invite y-you -” Thatch frowned and rubbed away the tears from your cheeks.

“ Querida, if it’s that important to you, I’ll talk to Marco. We can try to make it work. I’m not sure it will happen, but we’ll try.” You smiled, stopping the tears.

“Thank you Thatch! Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Just like with Ace, you kissed him with every thank you. 

“ Mija it’s not a guarantee, you understand that, right? I don’t want you to be upset if it doesn’t work out in the end,” Thatch said, still stroking your cheek. You gave him a genuine smile - you knew he would try his hardest to let you off the ship. He would go and talk to Marco on your behalf and try to convince the Phoenix into letting you off the ship. Marco would be the toughest of the three, but you thought between you, Thatch, and Tate it would be possible to convince him. You exchanged a few more kisses, thanking him, until he had to leave to prepare lunch for the crew. Part two of Tate’s plan had worked. 

Marco found you in the afternoon as you were on the deck leaning against the main mast, relaxing. You were still taking it easy but the little work you’d been doing had tired you out. How did the crew break so many toilets?

“So I hear you want to have an excursion on the next island,” Marco began, standing over you. He seemed to be in a good mood, or at least hadn’t outright denied you. His half open eyes showed some amusement, which was a good start.

“There’s a textile store that I want to go to with Tate. To get samples for the nurses’s uniforms. I haven’t been off the ship yet.” You tried to keep yourself from rambling but it was always hard for you to keep your cool around Marco.

Marco hummed. “And it has nothing to do with the spa on the island yoi?” You looked up at Marco with wide eyes. He still seemed amused, he wasn’t mad with you yet. He squished your cheeks gently between his thumb and index finger, the corners of his lips quirked up into a cold smile.

“Tate asked me about the store and the spa. And Thatch also came to talk to me about it. You’ve been working everyone to get off the ship yoi.” You swallowed dryly, you felt caught. “You’ve been a good Doveling lately yoi. Had a hard time this week. I’ll allow it with the understanding that one of us will be with you at all times.” He squished your face with a little more force. “We wouldn’t want you to get lost or hurt. We’re always looking out for you, you know that, don’t you Doveling?” 

You nodded. “Yes, Marco. Thank you Marco.” you replied. Even though Marco had said he allowed it, you felt the lingering threat behind his words. He’d be watching your every move and if anything went wrong on this trip, you didn’t think you’d ever be let off the ship again. 

“You can show your appreciation to me later tonight yoi,” Marco said, moving his hand from your face to your hair, pulling it gently. You were forced to tip your face up even higher. “It’s quite lenient of me, don’t you think?” 

“Yes, Marco. Thank you, Marco.” You shivered thinking about what Marco would want in exchange for allowing you off the ship for a day. He kissed your mouth briefly and released his hand from your hair. 

“Stay here and relax a little longer. You look like you need it yoi.” You agreed. It felt like you’d have to pay for your time off the ship with a pound of flesh. And you knew they would be collecting. 

[techs-goggles9902]

Can you do at Tech lives fan-fic (like if Tech is CX-2)??

CX-2 is all that remains

Warnings: prosthetic stuff, mentions of blood and stuff, contact lenses 💀 scars and stuff, bacta usage, memory issues (ik nothing super bad but what if you had a fear of contacts??) TBB SPOILERS

Word count: 1457 (WHOA I WENT OVERBOARD)

A/N: IM SO SORRY I TOOK SO LONG ANON. I genuinely love the bad batch but I HATE WRITING THEM SOMETIMES 😭 I feel like I’m butchering their characters. But I gotchuuuuu!!! Lmk if I should continue this.

Requests are open! See Masterlist for details!!!!

IMPORTANT NOTE: some of this was supposed to be italicized but my copy and pasting removes it, so some of this stuff are their thoughts. Just an FYI

“You recognized it, too,” Hunter whispers to Crosshair as the group hurries up the rocks.

”I did. You said he died on Eriadu,” the sniper replies in a low mumble.

“He did… Wrecker watched him fall.”

”Well, obviously he survived. Next move?”

”Follow through with the plan, Cross. I’ll have Echo double back and take us down there.”

”But… it’s him?”

Hunter pauses. When he speaks, his voice cracks, “Tech’s alive. And with the Empire.”

Tech - no, CX-2! He had to get used to that - needs to get out of the water, and fast. The current pulls at him as he grips a narrow rock beneath the surface.

His helmet can only keep him alive for so long, he needs air sooner rather than later.

This isn’t ideal. The cybernetics will never last if their circuits are drenched.

His slender fingers lose their grip on the rock. One, two, three. The Shadow loses his grip entirely, his gloves ripped apart at the seams as the sharp ridges cut into the calloused flesh of his fingers.

The current throws him back into another rock, his backpack absorbing most of the impact.

There, he thinks as the water starts to seep into his body suit, I just need to make it to that ledge and my odds of survival increase significantly.

He feels his cybernetics digging into the tender flesh of his legs. The part where the river meets land was so close, yet so far. Reaching out a bloody hand, his shredded fingers are met with rough sediment.

Finally…

”Echo, Rex, please. It’s him! I feel it,” Hunter says, trying to keep Echo from making the jump into hyperspace.

“Hunter, what if it’s n-”

”Rex, your buddy isn’t coming after us. He let us go. There’s no risk in going down there,” Crosshair cuts in. Echo and Rex glance at each other.

Rex, Echo’s expression says, what if…

Echo, Rex’s body language reads, you said it yourself. He’s gone.

You didn’t give up on me.

Rex’s gaze softens. “Fine. You have ten minutes.”

Hunter lets out a breath, clasping Rex’s shoulder. He says, “I owe you.”

”You owe me a lot, Sarge.”

Echo lands the ship just off the riverbank but is still hidden in the trees in case Wolffe changes his mind. The ramp opens with a soft hiss and plants itself on the rocks with a gentle thud. The river laps against the rocks like white noise, the water running down the cliff adds to the effect.

And there, lying on the rocks, still half in the water, lies the Shadow. Barely conscious and panting, his bloodied fingers groping the sediment.

“Maker… Gregor, get the med kit!” Echo yells back into the ship as Hunter, Crosshair, and Wrecker trip over themselves to get down to the riverbank.

“Shit… Hunter, is he…” Wrecker asks in a low tone, kneeling down beside the semiconscious clone.

“His heart’s beating,” the sergeant replies.

“Damn… Wrecker, can you get him on the ship? Gently?” Echo asks, leaning down to check the assassin’s pulse.

“I got him.” Wrecker slowly turns the clone onto his back and snakes an arm beneath his knees and back. “I gotcha, I gotcha…”

CX-2 feels himself being lifted up off the ground, his helmet removed, his head resting on someone’s shoulder plate. He hears voices calling out to him, hands lowering him down onto something somewhat comfortable. A bunk?

His armor taken off his wet bodysuit, said bodysuit is either peeled or cut away from his body.

“Cybernetics aren’t the best quality… just a pawn in Hemlock’s game,” a gruff voice says.

“Oh, Tech…” a softer voice says.

“I told you that you should’ve taken medic training,” a different voice comments. A scoff follows.

“Stow it, Cross.” Cross… that seems so familiar to CX-2. All the voices do, even the soft, feminine one. A warm liquid oozes out of where prosthetics meet flesh. Blood.

“Shit, Gregor, hand me the gauze,” He knows this voice…

“Echo, keep pressure. I’m getting him bacta,” Echo… warm hands trail down his body, checking for further injuries.

“Crap… these prosthetics are absolute trash, I should know. Not even connected properly… Tech, if you were awake to see this mess…” the voice, Echo, scoffs. CX-2 hears a smile in his voice.

“Are…are they as good as yours?” CX-2 hears his own voice ask that. He doesn’t know why he said that. In fact, his mouth moved on its own accord. All sounds around him cease and everything’s quiet except the soft hum of the ship.

“I… no, sorry, bud…mine are cooler,” Echo responds. CX-2 feels a subtle smile tugging at his own lips. Why? These are the enemy. Someone tends to his mangled hands, cleaning them and wrapping them tenderly.

“Tech…” CX-2 hears that name being called over and over again. Whispered in his ear. Murmured into his forehead as soft lips make contact with the scarred skin. Breathed into his hands as someone holds them gently.

His eyes open, just for a moment, meeting the gaze of five pairs of brown eyes. “Tech is gone,” he says. “CX-2 is all that remains…” He’s out like a light a second later.

Hunter’s heart felt like it was stabbed, trampled, cut out of his chest, and thrown out onto a rock to die. Tech is gone… the words echo through his mind all the way back to Pabu. This wasn’t the reunion he had in mind when he realized the Shadow was actually his little brother.

Crosshair doesn’t know how to feel. He abandoned his squad, his family, for the Empire. Is this karma, he thought.

Nonsense, Tech’s voice whispers in his head, this has nothing to do with you. The rational explanation is that the Empire succeeded in turning me into an assassin where they failed to turn you. Do not blame yourself, Crosshair. There was nothing you could do to stop this.

But I could’ve known, Crosshair’s voice whispers back to Tech’s, we would’ve been at Tantiss together.

And how could you possibly have known that, Cross?

Wrecker just tries to keep Omega away from their unconscious brother. “He needs his rest, Meg.”

“I won’t leave until he wakes up,” the blonde replies, crossing her arms. “I’m not bothering him, anyway.”

Wrecker sighs, placing a hand on her scrawny shoulder. He mutters, “Tech’s always been the one to take care of us… it’s weird that we’re taking care of him.”

“I know… what did he mean by ‘Tech’s gone’?”

“I… I don’t know. Cross said the Empire erases their previous lives while they turn them into… this. He’ll pull through and we’ll be losing to him in dejarik in no time.”

Echo was confused. Tech had just asked him about his cybernetics, meaning he did in fact remember them, at least somewhat. He stares out the viewport in the cockpit, his fingers picking at his scomp link. Tech always hated when he did that.

The next time CX-2 resurfaces, he’s staring up at a - wooden? - ceiling, definitely not a ship’s. A house? Hut? Cabin? He groans, lifting a hand up to pinch the scarred bridge of his nose. His face was littered with thick, ragged scars. Ever since Eriadu.

He looks at his hand in surprise as he sees its bandage has been changed recently. Where is he? CX-2 sits up slowly, orienting himself as he goes. The room is warm, small but not small enough that you feel claustrophobic. A window is above the bed he’s currently lying on, soft light filtering through the translucent curtains. He strains his neck to peer out of it.

Pabu…

He gets off the bed, looking down at his prosthetics, which start just below the knee. They’re sturdier as he stands and they don’t restrict his movement like they used to. They’re… comfortable.

He quietly - as quiet as you can get with two durasteel feet - leaves the room, examining the hallway. A kitchen is down the hall, so he heads there. Wincing, he looks around the corner to see if anyone’s there.

There is.

Crosshair…

“C’mere, Tech,” the sniper says, gesturing to the seat at the island beside him. CX-2 hobbles over to it, taking a seat silently.

“I’m not the brother you remember,” he rasps, looking out the window.

“No shit… no goggles?”

“Hemlock thought I should wear contacts so the goggles don’t break out on a mission.”

Crosshair hums in response.

“Why did you come back?”

The sniper takes a moment to respond, “Couldn’t leave you behind.”

It’s CX-2’s - no, Tech’s - turn to hum in response. He feels Crosshair leaning against him slightly.

“You’re not who you used to be, but we’ll get there. Right?”

“Possibly.”

Crosshair scoffs, “Good to have you back.”

Taglist: @will-is-silly @fionajames @sevdidntdie @hellhound5925 @dangraccoon @skellymom

Please let me know if you want to be taken off or join the list!!!

[written-with-clouds]

Monstober Day 8: Hybrids (WooSanHwa)

Day 8/13

Summary: Seonghwa works with Hybrids to rehabilitate them after traumatic events.

CW: None?

I left this one more open ended on purpose incase I decide to write a more fleshed out fic for it

not beta read

Series Masterlist

“He’s right through here, Mr. Park..” The officer places a hand on the push bar of the metal door, but doesn’t open it. “He hasn’t said a word to anyone since getting here… good luck and I’ll be right here if he gets violent, so just yell.” 

“Thank you, but I’m sure that won’t be needed.” Seonghwa replies to the officer as they push the door open and allow him through. 

Inside the small investigation room sits one metal table with two chairs on either side and a one way mirror that takes up most of the opposite wall. Sitting in one chair is San, the panther hybrid that Seonghwa has been tasked with rehabilitating. He is wearing handcuffs that connect the table. His head hanging as he stares at his lap, if it wasn’t for the cat ear twitching on his head, Seonghwa would have thought San didn’t notice him enter.

“Hello San… My name is Seonghwa. How are you feeling today?” Seonghwa carefully moves to the free chair and sits down. Moving slowly so as to not startle the hybrid. 

As expected, San doesn’t say or do anything. “I’ve been assigned to help you… but I can’t do that if you don’t speak to me.. I’m sure you know that you’re being put on trial for what happened to your handler…” San flinches back in his seat, what little Seonghwa can see of his face is scrunched into a grimace. “But I’m here to help you set the record straight.” 

They sit in silence for a while, Seonghwa letting San get used to his presence and scent. He does this for all of the extreme cases, introducing himself and what his job is, telling the hybrid his goal with helping them, and in the rarer instances—like this one— sitting in the room with the hybrid while Seonghwa does something else. This time, that ‘something else’ is paperwork for Wooyoung’s—a fox hybrid that Seonghwa cares for— upcoming doctor’s appointment. 

The longer they sat in silence, the more curious San grew, lifting his head to watch Seonghwa. After a moment Seonghwa lifts his gaze to San and smiles kindly. 

“Don’t worry, this has nothing to do with you…I’m filling out some paperwork for the other hybrid I care for.” Seonghwa replies simply, turning the paper so San can see that he isn’t lying. The hybrid nods his head, the chains rattle as he fiddles with his hands under the table. 

“However… I do have one thing to fill out that involves you.” Seonghwa rustles through his papers until he finds the one he needs. He places it down on the table and slides it over to San. “I have requested that you be released into my care for the time being. All I need is your signature to show your consent to this. Should you like, you’ll leave with me today and stay at my house for the duration of your trial. That paper lists all of the accommodations I already have in place and I left some blank lines for you to add anything else you want to request. I am willing to change anything on the list if you ask and I’ll do my absolute best to meet whatever requests you have but I will not tolerate anything that is potentially harmful to you, the hybrid already staying with me, or myself. In addition, per the agreement I have made with the court, you are not permitted to leave my home unattended.” 

San blinks, looking down at the paper Seonghwa handed him. He skims most of it, not caring for the legal mumbo jumbo, but he stops to carefully read the accommodations Seonghwa had listed. The most notable being that he would have his own room that could lock for his privacy and comfort, but Seonghwa would have a key incase of emergencies. And he would have his own bathroom that connected to his room. San signs the paper.

“Before we head in, I want to warn you about Wooyoung… the other hybrid that lives here.” Seonghwa turns off the car and turns to face San in the passenger seat. “He can be a little excited when someone new comes over… He means well, but he doesn’t always realize how loud he can be.” 

San nods slowly, worriedly glancing at the house. Seonghwa places a tentative hand on San’s knee reassuringly. “It’ll be okay.” 

at one much..” 

“Wooyoung, we talked about this.. Remember that not everyone likes having their personal space invaded.” Seonghwa says patiently as he observes from the side. Wooyoung’s eyes grow wide as he remembers and he looks back at San, taking a slow, dramatic, step back before looking to Seonghwa for approval. “Good boy Youngie.. Now, why don’t you show San to his room and I’ll order a Pizza or two for dinner.. If that’s alright with you, San.”

At San’s nod of approval, Wooyoung bounds off down the hallway. “Here’s your room. My room is across the hall if you need anything… and Hwa’s is down there and to the left.” Wooyoung points a clawed finger deeper into the home. The two of them stand there, Wooyoung rocking on his heels as San opens the door to his room and walks inside. It’s not a large room by any means, but it’s the biggest room San has ever had. It has a full sized bed that’s been freshly made, a desk and chair, a large wooden dresser and even a full bookshelf. San spots a door on the far wall and figures it’s the bathroom. 

“You don’t talk much.. Do you?” Wooyoung asks, waltzing into the room and plopping down on the edge of the bed. He bounces up and down, “It’s okay if you don’t.. I can talk enough for the both of us,” Wooyoung smiles at San and San almost smiles back.

Seonghwa wakes up the next morning and nearly trips over Wooyoung, who is lying on the floor in front of San’s bedroom door. “Youngie, what are you doing?” 

“San sounded distressed last night.. I could hear him pacing back and forth…” Wooyoung replies sadly, pouting. 

“That still doesn’t explain why you were sleeping in front of his door.”

“I was worried.. But his door was locked so I sat outside it for a while and talked to him through the door… well, I talked at him.. But he stopped pacing after a while.” Wooyoung said, his tail swishing from side to side behind him. Seonghwa ushers Wooyoung along, glancing back at San’s door in concern. 

Morning’s for the next month are much the same. Seonghwa gets up and heads to get Wooyoung up for the day as well, but nearly tripping on the fox hybrid in the process. Every morning, he asks Wooyoung why he was sleeping outside San’s door. And every morning it’s the same answer. 

“He was upset, Hwa.. He calms down when I talk to him.. I didn’t mean to spend all night out here, but I fell asleep..” 

Seonghwa tries to ask San about it, trying to figure out how to help him settle at night. But San still won’t talk to Seonghwa, he only answers yes or no questions. And while technically a form of communication, it isn’t very efficient in finding the root of the problem. 

Wooyoung, however, has been making some headway. San seems to respond to the other hybrid well, enjoying his company and seeking him out within the house once San wakes for the day. And, apparently, finding comfort in the foxes' presence outside his door at night.

Wooyoung wakes up leaning against the wall next to San’s door. But it isn’t because Hwa woke him.. In fact, it’s still dark outside. It doesn’t take long for Wooyoung to realize what had woken him when he hears quiet whimpers from behind San’s door. The panther hybrid sounds hurt and Wooyoung tries the door knob, locked.. It’s always locked at night. Wooyoung thinks, pacing in front of the door.

Seonghwa! Hwa has a spare key for emergencies.. And Wooyoung would count this as an emergency. He doesn’t want to wake Hwa though, so he carefully sneaks into the humans room. Quietly opening the drawer where he keeps the key and gets out of the room as fast as he can. 

Returning to San’s room, Wooyoung knocks softly first. “San? Are you okay?” He asks. If he can avoid using the key he will, but he only receives a pained whimper in response. “I'm going to use the spare key…” He calls out softly, letting San know his moves. 

Entering the room, San is laying on the floor in front of his bed. He is curled tightly around himself and trembling. He’s whispering something in his sleep that Wooyoung can’t quite make out, despite his enhanced hearing. He carefully approaches San, crouching down next to the sleeping hybrid.

“Didn’t know…” San mumbles in his sleep. “Didn’t mean to… I’m sorry, I’m sorry..” 

Wooyoung ghosts a hand over San’s shoulder and then suddenly, he is pinned to the ground with two hands around his neck. 

His hands fly up to cover San’s, trying to pry them off his airway. “S-an… It’s me. Wo-Wooyoung” San’s eyes are hazy as he looks at Wooyoung, or rather, looks through Wooyoung. “It’s o-okay… you’re safe..” 

San’s eyes focus on Wooyoung and widen, he removes his hands from around Wooyoung’s neck and scrambles back until he hits the wall. Wooyoung coughs, rolling onto his side as he catches his breath. 

“I…Oh my god..” A raspy voice whispers and Wooyoung realizes that San spoke. Wooyoung sits up and looks at San. “I’m so sorry Wooyoung.. Please don’t tell Seonghwa…he’ll..he-” 

“What do you think he’ll do, San? Wooyoung asks quietly and when San doesn’t answer he scoots closer. “San… What happened?” 

Unexpectedly, San breaks into tears. He places his head in his hands and draws his knees up to his chest. Wooyoung crawls over to San and wraps him in his arms, rocking the two of them gently as he shushes San. They stay like that until San calms down enough that his sobs turn into sniffles. Wooyoung sits next to San but continues to cradle the panther hybrid in his arms and rubbing his back soothingly. 

“Can you talk about it? I don’t think it’s safe for you to keep it bottled up anymore..” Wooyoung whispers. 

He feels San give a small nod before shakily inhaling. “I was assigned a mission to gather intel on a group of local weapons dealers. It was a run of the mill job, I had done countless of the same jobs before. But someone tipped them off. They knew I was coming and set a trap. I was knocked unconscious and when I came to,”San chokes back another sob, his voice wavering. Wooyoung encourages him to continue. “When I came to, I was in a blacked out room. There was no light at all, even with my ability to see well in the dark, I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. There was also no sound. I was completely cut off from those senses. I wasn’t fed or given water the whole time I was kept there. None of the torture was physical, it was worse… being cut off like that.. It can drive a person mad.” San sniffles, exhaling heavily. “When they finally found me I was delirious… My handler was the one who opened the door.. He was the first person I saw…But the bright light from his flashlight and the hallway lights behind him blinded me.. I thought it was one of the weapons dealers coming to finish me off. I didn’t mean to kill him.. I swear..”

“I believe you..” Wooyoung and San sat in silence. The only sound being that of San’s sniffles. 

As the sniffles die down, Wooyoung speaks. “You need to tell Hwa.. He wants to help you and is worried about you..” 

“I want to.. But I’m scared..” San admits. 

‘I’ll be right by you the whole time… if you want.” Wooyoung smiles reassuringly. 

“Please..” 

The next morning, Wooyoung and San meet Seonghwa in the living room. San opens up to Seonghwa, telling him what he had told Wooyoung the night before. And Wooyoung stays next to San the entire time, holding his hand and rubbing thumb over the back of San’s hand. 

Hearing what had caused San’s lashing out hurt Seonghwa, cutting into his heart. He crosses the room to where the hybrids are sitting and kneels before San. Seonghwa places his hands over top of Wooyoung and San’s joined ones. “I am so sorry.” 

“It wasn’t your fault, Seonghwa..” San spoke. 

“I know.. But I still hate what happened.. And I hate that you’re being tried for it..” Seonghwa stands, wrapping his arms around San. He pulls the hybrid against him, petting his hair, “You’ll get through this.. And if you’ll let us, Wooyoung and I will be here to help you every step of the way.” 

San smiled, for the first time in a long time, nuzzling against Seonghwa and gripping Wooyoung’s hand tighter. “I would really like that..”

Series Masterlist

[magicshopaholic]

A Lack of Colour

Summary: Seokjin realises he needs to have a talk with his girlfriend. Yoongi makes a promise. "i should have given you a reason to stay" - death cab for cutie, a lack of color

Pairing: Seokjin x OC, Yoongi x OC (different OCs)

Genre: Angst, sort of

Word count: 9K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language

A/N: Please don’t hate me. Takes place a week after Helping Hands. If you want to yell at me with other readers after you're done , you can do so on the Discord channel.

Tagging: @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @meirkive @faearchives @margopinkerton @dreaming-with-happiness @purpleseoul7

Listen to: "a lack of color“ by death cab for cutie

seokjin masterlist | yoongi masterlist | main masterlist

The ER is quiet today - too quiet.

Nari tries to ignore the giggles and whispers that are permeating the sanitizer whiteness of the room, and concentrates on the breath sounds of the patient on the bed before her. She’s come in complaining vaguely of “chest pains” but it’s mildly frustrating; Nari can’t hear anything except absolutely normal breath sounds and heartbeats.

“Show me where you’re feeling the pain again?” she asks kindly, watching closely as the girl - a kid probably in her early twenties - frowns and gestures largely at the front of her torso.

“Just… everywhere,” she answers unhelpfully. 

Nari frowns slightly, not wanting to alarm her patient while a variety of scenarios start flipping through her mind as to why her chest sounds perfectly normal, not dismissing the possibility that her stethoscope is damaged.

She glances up at the girl’s friends, two similar looking girls who seem least bothered about their friend’s situation. Instead, they’re on their phones, exchanging grins and excitedly whispering, nudging the girl on the bed to look at something on their screens.

“Just - give me a moment. I’ll be right back.” Nari walks away calmly and doesn’t stop until she reaches the front desk of the ER. She leans over to the first year resident who’s manning the desk for the day.

“Hey, have you seen Dr Kang or… Cheon or… anyone else?” she asks. “I need a consult.”

“Oh, um, I think they’re all in surgery…” The resident checks a large board behind her. “Yeah, won’t be out for a while. Anything I can help with?” she asks quickly.

Nari nods, empathising with the annoyance of having to answer phones in the ER in place of practising medicine. “I have a case of chest pain - female, early twenties, otherwise seemingly healthy. Her breath sounds, heart beat and EKG are completely normal and she can’t seem to pinpoint any singular area of pain. Can you do some research to understand what this could be?”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Yeah, of course -“ She retrieves a notebook from her pocket and flips through it vigorously. “I’m sure I can find something -“ 

They’re interrupted momentarily by another sound of furious whispering - a group of medical student interns pass by them, giggling in hushed tones.

“Not to sound old or anything, but I swear we were more professional at that age,” mutters Nari, shaking her head.

“I kind of get it, though,” says the resident, shrugging apologetically. “It’s not every day there’s an idol somewhere in the hospital.”

Nari raises her eyebrows. “Like a k-pop idol? Here?”

“Uh-huh. It’s all super secret and high profile, though. He’s in the VIP section and has bodyguards everywhere.”

“Wow. That explains a lot. Anyway, let me know if you find something on the chest -“ Nari pauses abruptly, something clicking. She turns around slowly to look at the girl with the mysterious chest pains, sitting up straight on her bed and whispering with her friends.

“You know what,” she says instead, turning to the resident. “It’s a slow day. Why don’t you take over my patient instead?” she offers.

The resident’s eyes widen. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Make sure to really ask her a lot of questions,” adds Nari. As the resident hurries away, pulling on her lab coat, Nari stops her. “By the way… who’s the idol?”

“Oh. Nobody knows.” The resident shrugs. “Rumour is that it’s someone from BTS.”

—

Nari waits outside the entrance of the VIP section, watching as one of the bulky bodyguards slips inside the private hospital room, presumably to ask the said BTS member if he knows and would be okay to see a Dr Choi Nari.

It’s a fifteen percent chance it’s Seokjin. If it’s any of the others, it will be a pleasant run-in. If it’s him… it occurs to Nari for the first time that he might not actually want to see her.

Just as she begins processing this possibility, the bodyguard pokes the upper half of his body outside the room and waves at her to enter.

Her heart leaping slightly, she saunters down the corridor silently, ignoring the two surely-vetted nurses giving her bewildered looks as she pushes open the door.

“Hey.” Seokjin, in a hospital gown, looks tired yet relieved. “I was hoping I’d see you.”

“Yeah?” Nari takes a few steps towards the bed, hands in the pocket of her lab coat, noting that he seems okay, except for an IV in his forearm and one of his feet elevated on a cushion. “You know where I work. Why didn’t you tell me you were here?”

He purses his lips hesitantly. “I didn’t know if you’d want to see me,” he says lightly. “I thought… this might one of those times where lack of privacy would actually come in handy.”

She nods, waiting for the heaviness in her chest to reappear, but it doesn’t. “It did. What happened to you?”

“Oh.” He seems to remember why he’s here. “Um… twisted my ankle. And our regular doctor is out sick today. Irony,” he adds in a soft sing-song voice, grinning when he realises they've done it in unison.

“M-hm. Who’s your doctor here?” 

“Uh… Park something. Park Naeun.”

Nari raises her eyebrows. “Head of the department?” She taps his foot with her pen, ignoring his dramatic gasp of pain. “Must be some twisted ankle.”

“That hurt!”

“No, it didn’t,” she says, giving him a look when his face immediately drops to normal. She points at his chart hooked at the bottom of his bed. “Do you mind?”

“Go ahead. You don’t have to ask.”

“Yeah, I do. Patient information is confidential and I’m not your doctor.”

Seokjin nods slowly but his expression is clear. Nari waits for him to say what she thinks he’s about to but then decides she doesn’t want him to.

She flips through the chart. “Your vitals seem fine. BP is a bit low…” Automatically, she pulls her stethoscope from the pockets of her lab coat and puts it on. “Sit up?”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow but obeys. Keeping the chart down, Nari places a hand on his shoulder and gently presses the chest piece to his chest. “Take a deep breath,” she murmurs, listening closely, frowning when his heart speeds up slightly. She moves to his back. “Lean forward a bit?”

He does so, and the hospital gown falls from his chest to his waist. His skin feels warm where Nari places the chest piece on his back. “Slightly tachycardic. You’re dehydrated, Kimbap.”

“Bingo,” he says, sounding tired again. Up close, he looks paler. But his eyes look more full of life than Nari has seen them in a while. She frowns curiously for a moment before realising it’s the first time she’s called him Kimbap in months.

In order to break the silence, heavy with meaning, she places the back of her hand on his forehead. “You’re feverish. And you look thinner,” she adds, stepping away. “Have you been eating properly?”

He chuckles pointedly. “Hello, pot. I’m kettle.”

A smile flits across her face. “Shut up. I’m serious.”

“Airplane food is shit.”

“Even business class?”

“Absolutely. And touring is tiring.”

Nari nods, placing the chart back. There’s nothing much for her to do; rest and fluids are all he needs and both are taken care of for now. She hesitates, wondering if she should leave. A moment later, she takes a seat on the chair next to his bed.

Seokjin doesn’t try to hide his smile. “Don’t have surgery to get to?”

“It’s a slow day.” She nudges his bed lightly with her foot. “How have you been?”

Seokjin’s smile fades slightly, and his eyes fall. Nari bites her lip; it’s only been a week, but it feels like forever ago. Standing inches away from each other, his cheekbones under her fingers, his palpable desperation followed by clear, transparent realisation.

Despite that, it’s the first time in months that she’s been around him without wanting to cry. Talking with him is easier. Being around him feels like it used to. The truth is out there, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off her chest. 

“Okay. Been thinking a lot,” he says, glancing up at her.

She nods. She wants to ask more, but looking at his pale face and clammy forehead, she decides not to. Not while there’s a chance of delirious answers.

“Where’s Seulgi?”

His face falls. “Oh, crap. I should call her.” He reaches over to his bedside table and picks up his phone, only to see a black screen. “Damn it.”

“You should let your people know to let her in,” says Nari, taking his phone from him and plugging it in to charge behind the bedside table. “They’re fairly intimidating.”

He half-chuckles. “And yet here you are.”

“The whole hospital’s talking about a famous idol here somewhere. Had to check out the rumour for myself.”

“Good to know.” He turns to check that his phone is charging and sits back. “She’s gone to see her parents in Busan,” he says after a moment. “So I don’t think I’ll see her. I fly out the day after tomorrow,” he adds, answering her silent question.

“Oh. You may not be in a state to,” she tells him, pointing to the IV in his forearm.

“Don’t have a choice.” He sighs and closes his eyes, placing his other arm over them. His chest looks white, not a single bit of loose flesh anywhere. But she knows better than to argue with his schedule.

“Keep a water bottle on you at all times. One with a carabiner that you can hook onto your bag.” She clicks her tongue. “There is no way that this is the first time I’m telling you this.”

“Okay, Dr Choi,” he mutters, not moving.

She slaps his shoulder lightly. “I’m not kidding. You’re making yourself sick. You look like a ghost, Kimbap.”

“On the plus side, my hair game has never been stronger.”

She reaches over and ruffles his hair until he slaps her hand away, laughing.

“Don’t be jealous, Nari,” he says loftily, delicately straightening his bangs along his forehead.

“I’m not,” she says honestly.

He gives her a small smile but says nothing. “Thanks for coming,” he says after a moment. “Truth be told… I don’t feel that great.”

Nari wonders if she’s imagining the double meaning, or if she simply wants to. The look on his face at the restaurant opening when she’d finally told him, in as many words as she could, how she felt; it had simultaneously broken her heart and renewed hope because now he knew.

Part of her had expected their lingering desperation at maintaining a friendship to die a feeble death right then, but Seokjin seems to be genuinely glad she’s here right now. She searches, again, for the heaviness - but it has disappeared.

“‘Course I did,” she says softly, squeezing his hand. He squeezes it back, warm and dry, and Nari feels like crying. Not out of sadness, or heartbreak - but out of relief. There was a lack of colour in her life but it’s back now, clear, beautiful and messy.

“Nari, look… about -”

The door flies open and Dr Park Naeun stands at the doorway, youthful as ever in her late forties, with a sharp frown on her forehead. 

“Dr Choi,” she states sternly. “I don’t remember assigning you on this case. Are you cleared to be here?” Without waiting for Nari’s response, she turns to Seokjin and her face softens. “I’m sorry, I was told you didn’t want to be disturbed.”

“I’m not,” he says instantly, letting go of Nari’s hand. “Nari - er, Dr Choi,” he amends, glancing at her sheepishly, “is my oldest friend. No disturbance at all.”

Dr Park nods, still seeming a little unconvinced. “Alright. You should rest, though. Dr Choi - the ER isn’t going to run itself.”

Sensing her cue, Nari stands up, her hand brushing Seokjin’s. “Of course. Take care,” she says softly to him before walking past her boss and out of the hospital room.

—

Nari doesn’t stop by again except later that night to inform him she’s going home and checking his vitals once more. Seokjin stays motionless while she presses the chest piece of her stethoscope once more to his torso, soft and familiar fingers brushing against his skin. The medication makes his heart race but he tries not to show it, and he doesn’t exhale until she leaves the room.

He is discharged the next day; a shiny black SUV takes him back to the dorm, where all the members have elected to stay until the tour ends. It’s both convenient yet mildly chaotic; the only time any of them go back to their own apartments is when Dilara is in town, or if Jimin is to meet Sooah, or if Jungkook is entertaining one of his casual lady friends.

As it so happens, the only person in the house when Seokjin returns is Min Yoongi, eating a bowl of cereal at four pm in front of the television.

“Hey, you’re back,” he says unnecessarily. “When did - wait, why didn’t you tell any of us when you were coming back? We could’ve picked you up.”

Seokjin waves his hand dismissively. “Not necessary. Everyone has enough going on.” He takes a seat next to Yoongi on the sofa and sighs, gratefully accepting the bowl of cereal and taking a large bite of choco flakes and cold milk. “Oh, God, that’s good,” he murmurs, closing his eyes.

“I can get you a bowl,” offers Yoongi, heading to the kitchen when Seokjin nods. He brings back a plate with a bowl of cereal on it, along with toast and blueberry jam. “I know it’s carbs but you were sick - you need your energy.”

“Yeah, I don’t care about carbs right now,” agrees Seokjin, eagerly taking the plate and going straight for the toast, not emerging until he finishes an entire slice. “Jesus. It feels like I haven’t eaten in days.”

Yoongi nods, patting him on the shoulder. “Good. How are you feeling now?”

“Much better. Yesterday was a bit shit but I woke up feeling pretty okay. Nari’s convinced it was the rest and fluids but I think it was the super comfortable hospital bed and jelly cups that did the trick.”

“You met Nari?” Yoongi raises his eyebrows. “How, uh, how is she?” he asks, sounding a bit guilty.

Seokjin is sure he’s recalling the disastrous not-date that occurred at the restaurant opening a week ago, but says nothing. Nari’s transparent embarrassment from that night doesn’t need to become public knowledge. 

“She’s okay. It was kind of weird seeing her in work mode, but - but it was good,” he replies, realising as he says it, that for the first time in a long time, it actually was good. Maybe it was the fact that he was sick or that he hadn’t actually seen her smile at him in forever, but it was the closest he’d felt to her in months.

Kimbap. And maybe - just maybe - he wasn’t alone in it. 

“Why are you smiling?”

“What?” Seokjin stares at his remaining cereal. “I’m -” About to deny it, he stops. “Okay, I need to get something off my chest.”

“Okay.” Yoongi mutes the television.

“I -” He takes a deep breath, not really sure where to begin. “Um… after the restaurant opening, when Nari was leaving…” He swallows, feeling his stomach squirm the same it has the entirety of the last week, every single time he thought about her and that night. “I think… Nari might have feelings for me.”

There’s a few moments of silence. When Yoongi doesn’t answer, Seokjin turns to him to see him looking back expectantly. “And?” he asks in a hushed voice.

“Well…” Seokjin frowns.

Yoongi squints. “Please don’t tell me that’s news to you.”

Seokjin opens his mouth then closes it, knowing he’s been caught. “It’s not… news,” he admits. “But it’s confirmation. I didn’t think it was likely, not after the pregnancy scare and with that Jason guy… but I did wonder. Maybe,” he finishes, shrugging tiredly. “Kind of felt wrong to speculate once I got together with Seulgi,” he mutters.

“Does Seulgi know? Wait - what actually happened?” Yoongi asks instead.

“Nothing happened,” he clarifies immediately. “Not like that.” But it could have. Another second and I might have. “But… I mean, I would be deliberately obtuse if I didn’t see it now, right?”

Although it doesn’t answer his question, Yoongi tactfully doesn’t repeat it. “But you said everything was good with her yesterday?”

“That’s just it.” Seokjin pounces on what’s been going through his head for the last twenty-four hours. “It’s been a nightmare for almost a year and then suddenly it’s… we’re back to normal. Kind of.” He shakes his head. “I kept thinking it might have made it worse, having it out in the open. But it isn’t. It’s like a switch flipped.” I got my best friend back, he thinks, and a part of his heart soars.

“What does Seulgi think?” When Seokjin doesn’t answer, Yoongi sits back on the couch, still observing his friend. “Does she know about this new development at all?”

“It’s complicated,” he mutters. “I don’t even know what this development is.” He catches Yoongi’s knowing look. “I’m serious. It was, like, fifteen minutes in total and it was… normal. If anything, the last few months were a development. This is the default.”

Seokjin is mildly aware he’s rambling now, especially when Yoongi conspicuously utters nothing. It’s just as well; he’s run out of ways to explain the situation. There are no appropriate words to describe the wave of emotions he’d experienced since last week, beginning with shock and solace that Nari was finally communicating with him, stress and fear that this may just have pushed her away for good, and a numbing relief when she’d shown up yesterday. 

He wishes he’d hugged her. He wishes she’d stayed longer, or that stupid Dr Park hadn’t told her to leave. He wishes he knew what she was going through last week, if she was truly as relaxed as she seemed, if her confession really had been as cathartic for her to make as it had been for him to hear.

“Do you think you can travel tomorrow?” Yoongi asks, breaking the silence.

“What? Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Seokjin shifts on the sofa, running a hand over his face. “It should be fine.” 

Tomorrow. It seems too soon now, now that there’s so much to leave behind in Seoul. She was happy. It was, at the crux of it, the detail that sticks in his mind. He imagines the weight off her chest, imagines her expecting something from him, imagines telling her what she wants to hear. It could get complicated, for certain, but the thought of it doesn’t tire him the way it used to.

“Hey, you know what?” Seokjin asks, a thought suddenly occurring to him. “That night, when Nari was leaving the party, she said you were… kissing someone?”

Yoongi goes very still. “She told you about that?” he asks, and there’s a bite to his tone.

“Well… she was upset,” he says hastily. “I don’t think she knew it was a secret… is it a secret?” he asks hesitantly, not wanting to overstep.

Yoongi is silent for a moment longer. “There’s nothing to tell, honestly,” he mutters, and that’s enough to indicate that the topic is closed.

Later that evening, as he drives to the Big Hit building, Yoongi finds himself regretting being so abrupt with Seokjin.

But there is nothing to tell. He didn’t lie. There has been virtually no contact with Miso since that night, and he hasn’t been able to come up with a single appropriate way to begin conversation. Hey, I just want to skirt around the awkwardness of kissing you in a coat closet right after you admitted your psychotic mother has a habit of stealing men from you, so how’s it going? I miss you.

It was variations of this until Yoongi gave up, choosing to give her space and time to process everything and let the ball be in her court for once.

Even when he reaches the floor, he makes sure to only wave at her while she’s standing with Donghyuk and a couple of other people before ducking into his own studio. He stays there for a while, distractedly flipping through his files and trying to remember why exactly he’d come in today at all.

After a few minutes, he decides he needs a cigarette, taking the elevator to the terrace and stepping out into the pleasant evening air.

He lights his first cigarette and takes a deep drag, closing his eyes when the door creaks open behind him.

“They don’t let you smoke on tour?”

Yoongi doesn’t move. “They’d probably have a heart attack if I did. Although my make-up artist joins me for a secret one once in a while.”

“Clandestine smoke breaks feel different,” she agrees, slipping out her own pack and placing a cigarette between her lips. Yoongi reaches forward and lights it for her, and her eyes look brown in the brightness of the flame.

Miso breathes it in and lets the smoke out without flinching. “Didn’t think I’d see you back so soon.”

“You didn’t?”

“Yeah… weren’t you in Europe or something this week?” She frowns. “The flying must be playing havoc with your system.”

She means the tour. Yoongi nods a little belatedly. “I guess. I’m used to it. I sleep when I can. How are you?” he ask after a moment.

“Same as always.” Miso takes another drag before giving him a side glance. “Also… I just want to move on from the whole… weirdness of our - of us, you know, kissing in the aftermath of my whole word vomit about my demented mother going after men far too young for her.” She exhales, having said everything in one breath.

Yoongi stares at her, blinking wordlessly before he realises she’s expecting a response from him. “Oh, hey… don’t worry. No weirdness whatsoever.”

She gives him a small smile and leans back against the railing he��s looking over, the city of Seoul lit up under them. Their shoulders brush and Yoongi tries to grasp at anything to keep the conversation going. “Um, so… how are things with - with you and your mom?”

Miso frowns slightly, as though she hadn’t expected this question. “As good as they’ll ever be? We’ve successfully ignored each other all week,” she explains, half-chuckling. 

Yoongi doesn’t know whether to laugh or cringe; it’s not a common cue to take, so he simply nods. She seems a bit jittery; the last time he’d seen her like this, it was almost a year ago at her house, the first glimpse he’d gotten a peek into her life. He’s about to reach for her hand which is holding the cigarette and tapping absently at the railing, but at that moment she raises her hand to take another drag.

“Anyway, I, uh…” She clears her throat and taps the cigarette, ash falling on the ground, “I’m just glad we didn’t… I mean, you don’t have to feel like… God, it was a weird night,” she sighs awkwardly. “But it doesn’t have to… go anywhere. We can just go back to normal.”

Unlike her, Yoongi doesn’t look away. “Truth be told, I’m not really sure what normal is with us.”

Looking at the ground, Miso half-chuckles again, without humour. She’s wearing full sleeves again, despite a mostly warm day. Beige sleeves and a dark t-shirt on top; her skin looked white against it, like porcelain.

“I know,” she admits, flicking ash again. “But I’m just saying, it doesn’t have to be… anything different. Whatever normal is.” She shrugs and when Yoongi doesn’t respond, she looks up. “I’m just saying… it was a long night. I was on edge, surrounded by my mother and her friends and you… and everyone was hungry because they took forever to serve dinner…” She exhales, and grey smoke comes out of her nostrils. “Nothing… really happened.”

Yoongi stares at her, his face making no movement whatsoever for he finally feels as though she’s reaching the point. “What?”

Miso gazes at him, pursing her lips. It feels as though she’s reading him, trying to gauge what his question is referring to. She takes a last, deep drag and finishes her cigarette. “This is a good thing, Yoongi,” she says at last, stamping out the butt. “You got a look into the shitshow and… you’re getting out ahead.” She gives him a small, forced smile. “You’re off the hook,” she says in English, the unfamiliar accent jarring. 

She moves to leave while Yoongi stays frozen to the spot, his stomach sinking slowly. Then, as though jerked out of a trance, he extinguishes his cigarette against a metal pipe on the side and drops the butt, turning around and catching up to her in a few steps. 

“I’m off the hook?” he repeats, voice low and sticking to Korean.

She doesn’t look too surprised that he’s stopped her, but her forced nonchalance wobbles slightly. “Well, the proverbial hook.”

“Yeah? What hook is that?”

“The hook that pegged you to kiss me in a coat closet after I… dumped my mommy-trauma on you.” She shakes her head. “There was a lot going on and I don’t… I’m not expecting anything from you. Not for that.”

Yoongi bites his lip. “So… I’m off the hook for the spur-of-the-moment kiss we shared after I assured you that you can trust me.”

Miso’s eyes flicker momentarily but she reverts to her blasé expression instantly. “The words sound like you get me, but your tone is throwing me off,” she says wryly.

He takes a step closer to her. “You are,” he mutters tightly, his hand clenching into a fist, “the single most uniquely frustrating person I have ever met.”

“I don’t understand why you’re getting annoyed with me,” she replies, but Yoongi doesn’t believe her, scoffing and turning away. “You want this, believe me.” When he doesn’t answer, she folds her arms across her chest. “I’ve told you a dozen times not to get involved. I don’t know why you’re still trying to.”

“You know, I’m starting to wonder the same thing myself,” he snaps, walking past her and out of the terrace. He catches a glimpse of her just as the elevator doors close and he bristles; there’s no doubt, guilt or anger on her face. It’s an expression he’s seen numerous times before, annoying him more each time: the one of being proven right.

—

Donghyuk [21:15] Going out with some of the prods in a bit. Drinks on BH. You in?

Yoongi [21:16] Don’t think so. Too much to get done.

Donghyuk [21:16] Sure? Kim Namjoon’s coming too. Probably.

Yoongi [21:17] You asked him?

Donghyuk [21:17] Not yet.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, although Namjoon might just agree to go. Anything to get his mind off his girl.

Yoongi [21:18] Raincheck. In the zone right now.

Donghyuk replies with an irrelevant emoji but doesn’t push. Yoongi locks his phone and stares at the wide screens in front of him. A part of him had planned to return to the dorm tonight to give Seokjin some company; something about how deep in thought the older member had been earlier today was throwing Yoongi off. Seokjin didn’t divulge much, but Yoongi had a feeling he might want to just this once.

There’s also the added bonus of a hot meal most likely awaiting him at the dorm, for when Seokjin was stressed, he tended to cook.

Yoongi [21:25] Hyung. Need me to pick up anything for dinner?

Seokjin [21:27] Not for me. I’m probably going out.

Yoongi raises his eyebrows at this unexpected response, his stomach rumbling sadly. But he ignores it, reaching for his half empty pack of cigarettes and debating another smoke break, when his studio door opens without permission and he turns, his heart skipping an automatic beat.

Miso pokes her head in, expressionless. “Donghyuk’s leaving. He asked me to check if you want to schedule the demo with that rookie girl group tomorrow at noon.”

Yoongi turns back around. “Sure. Anything else?”

She hesitates. “That Chinese place you recommended sucks, by the way. Their portion sizes are deceptively huge and now I’m stuck with enough Kung Pao chicken to feed a small army,” she states in mild exasperation before leaving.

The door swings shut behind her. Yoongi scoffs under his breath, shaking his head. Uniquely frustrating. Everything had to be an argument, and every argument had to be won by her, even if it was about an excess of Kung Pao chicken.

He checks his pack to see about half a dozen cigarettes left, when something clicks. He pauses and, on cue, his stomach rumbles again.

Grabbing his phone and the smokes, Yoongi stands up and heads out of his studio, making a beeline down the corridor for Donghyuk's. He can smell the food even before he pushes the door open.

Miso looks up when he enters, not looking entirely surprised, but - he notes with caution - her shoulders relax as though in relief. Four boxes of food are on the console table in front of her while she unpacks the chopsticks. As he takes a seat next to her mutely, she unpacks the last items in the bag: two cans of lemonade. She slides one over to him and he catches it.

“Thanks.”

She nods, handing him a pair of chopsticks. “I’ve heard the food’s not bad.”

“So have I. I didn’t know about the lemonade on their menu, though.” He takes a sip and swallows it slowly, wincing slightly at the tartness. “Not bad.”

Miso, her can unopened in front of her, observes him thoughtfully before bending over the other side of her chair and retrieving two cans of Budweiser Premium. She offers one to him, eyebrows raised.

“Are we allowed alcohol in here?” he asks mildly, taking the can anyway. 

“No idea.”

“Not afraid of getting caught?”

She hitches one leg on the edge of her chair and pops her can open, taking a long sip. “What are they going to do? Fire me?” 

Nope. Not daddy’s nepo princess.

A year ago, Yoongi would’ve said it out loud. The arrogance of her statement would have struck him in his very core, except now he can only detect apathy in it. What’s the worst they can do? Fire me?

He opens his own can and takes a sip, the cold beer feeling incredible in his chest. “God, I feel healed.”

The corner of her mouth lifts and she reaches over, and they clink their cans together. “Cheers.”

As they eat, Yoongi finds himself more confused than ever. Not only did Miso, in her own twisted way, offer an olive branch and buy him dinner, but for the first time since he’s known her, she is initiating conversation.

“Are you allowed to drink on tour?” she asks him, curiously scooping some noodles into her paper bowl.

“Only as long as we’re not seen. And as long as it doesn’t make us put on weight or bloat or break out…” He shrugs. “So… no. Not really.”

“Is the company afraid your fans will get scandalized if they see you, an adult man, consuming alcohol?”

He cracks a smile. “Something like that.”

“Damn. How do you smoke?”

“I don’t, as much. I wait to come home and do it in peace.”

She grins and his heart catches. “Yeah? Dreaming about the Big Hit terrace while sailing around the world?”

“You have no idea. Sometimes I wake up smelling instant coffee and cornflakes.”

“A man so loyal to his work,” she says dryly, chuckling when he waves a hand in mock-embarrassment. “Big Hit is so lucky to have you.”

“They make me do a lot more dancing than I ever signed up for, so… you know what? They kind of are,” he agrees, smiling when she laughs. “Damn, this is good beer.”

Without being asked, she hands him another one, and their fingers brush on the cold can. Their eyes meet for a fraction of a second before Miso lets go and leans back, busying herself with something else. Yoongi glances at her as he absently bites down on a mushroom, wanting to bring up their earlier encounter today, last week and all the preceding weeks - but it’s not a good idea. Not during this precarious time of… he isn’t even sure what to call it.

“How come you didn’t go out with Donghyuk and the guys?”

“Work,” he answers simply. “How come you didn’t?”

“Work, I guess. And I had all this food to finish,” she reminds him, gesturing to the half a dozen boxes on the table. “You’re only back for a couple days, though. How come you don’t want to, you know…” She does an awkward wave with her shoulders. “... party?”

Yoongi stifles a chuckle. “Someone had to help you finish all this food. Apparently it’s my fault there’s so much of it.”

“It is. But the food is actually quite… not bad,” she adds generously. “How’d you know about this place?”

“Oh, I, uh… I used to deliver for them,” he confesses, nodding when she raises her eyebrows in surprise. “It’s been a few years, but… there was this one apartment over in Hongdae that ordered in from there almost every single day. A couple of roommates, fresh out of college, I think,” he recalls. “I asked them once about it and they said they worked long hours and ordering in from here was what kept them going.”

“Wow.” Miso is quiet for a moment. “So you started eating from here, too?”

“Once I could afford it, yeah.” He catches her eye but she lowers her eyes, almost as if ashamed. “The shrimp fried rice is the best thing on the menu, though.”

She nods, glancing up at him. “Noted. For next time.”

Yoongi’s heart soars unexpectedly before his mind forces their disagreement on the terrace to the forefront of his mind.

“I didn’t know you delivered food,” she says after a moment. 

“Mhm. It’s also when I learned to pick a lock, because these kids in one of the Gangnam neighbourhoods would lock people’s bicycles for fun,” he tells her, rolling his eyes. 

“What? Why?”

“Who knows.” He tosses his empty bowl on the table and stretches back in his chair. “Dumb, rich kids with nothing better to do,” he mutters, looking up at the ceiling. When he glances back down at her, it’s to see her quietly cleaning up, her hair covering the side of her face.

Yoongi starts to say something but thinks the better of it, instead helping her clear the table.

“Tell me something about you,” he says a little while later, as they share a single serving of chocolate mousse. “Not your parents or your… driver or whoever. You.”

Miso raises her eyebrows, looking a little startled at the question; it’s clear that it’s not something she gets asked too often.

“I don’t know. I’m really not that interesting.”

He gives her a look. “I told you about being a delivery boy. Interesting isn’t the criteria here.”

“Fine.” She purses her lips and frowns, apparently thinking. “Okay, I have one. Ready?”

“On the edge of my seat.”

A smile flits across her face. “Okay… I’m red-green colourblind.” She shrugs hugely, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“Huh. Really?” Yoongi wasn’t expecting that. “So, can you…”

“I can,” she confirms. “I wear contact lenses so I can pretty much see everything normally. But, yeah. That’s something about me.”

“Have you - sorry, this might be a stupid question -“ He raises a hand and she waves her own, permitting him to ask. “Have you always had it?”

“Pretty much, yeah. It’s genetic,” she adds. “My mother used to take me to the optometrist in secret, as if she was afraid that my father would explode at a reminder of a weakness,” she explains, rolling her eyes. “Actually, that seems pretty on brand for him.”

Yoongi frowns. “But if it’s genetic…”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t have it,” she confirms. “Neither does my mother, which means she’s a carrier.” She shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. It’s not something we talk about. Ever.”

She says it in a matter-of-fact way, as though it’s the most understandable thing in the world for her own issues to take a backseat to her egocentric father’s insecurities. 

Yoongi lets out a low whistle. “So it’s your little secret?”

“Kind of. Strange to think about,” she agrees. She is quiet for a moment. “She really did seem to care that I had the best possible doctors and specialists and whatnot.” She shudders. “It’s like a fever dream.”

He doesn’t know how to react to this so he follows her cue and returns her wry smile. “I saw a picture of you as a kid at your house. You were a cute kid.”

Miso narrows her eyes at him. “Uh-huh. Where are you going with this?”

“Nothing. Just picturing you holding your mother’s hand, going to the optometrist.” He grins when she rolls her eyes. “You did say she took you in secret.”

“Well, she and Seungkwan,” she amends. “Not that we ever discussed it with him but I’m pretty sure he guessed.”

This is news. Yoongi’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really? And he never told your father?”

A faint smile appears on Miso’s face. “It’s a dangerous thing to be that loyal to my father. Some things are better left ignored.”

He senses something else in her words, but doesn’t ask. He remembers her driver vaguely; somehow, he appears everywhere she is, whenever she needs him. 

“Well, I can keep your secret,” he promises her, leaving the last bite of the mousse and handing it to her.

Her smile widens as she takes it from him. “I know,” she says. “I trust you.”

Yoongi holds her gaze for a moment. “Are you sure?”

Miso’s smile fades. “Yoongi…” She trails off when he drops his head, suddenly tired. She begins again. “You know, you’re the only person in the world who’s ever apologised to me,” she tells him. 

She waits until he meets her eyes again, and he’s slightly startled at how sorry she looks. He struggles for a moment to recall what she’s talking about, the memories of the aftermath of the launch party crawling to the forefront of his mind.

“That isn’t -“

“I’m just saying… It seems okay now. Now,” she repeats. “But you really don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. I’m not talking about my parents,” she says quickly when he opens his mouth. “I’m saying…” She sighs. “Yoongi, I don’t think I can give you what you want. I don’t know how.”

Yoongi says nothing; his throat feels stuck and he worries that if he speaks, his voice might break. It doesn’t feel like a rejection, but he also can’t find a way to respond. Once again, she’s won the argument. 

They leave soon after that, once they clean up in silence and Yoongi takes out the trash while Miso closes down Donghyuk’s studio. He walks her to the elevator, both of them walking beside each other with just enough distance between them to not touch.

I don’t know how. It bothers him more than he’d like to admit, and he can’t tell if it’s because of her fucked up parents or her general tendency to keep a distance that she believes she’s incapable of genuine human connection. 

When they reach the elevator and she reaches up to press the button, his eyes fall on her wrist and he wants, once again, to grab it and push her sleeve up her forearm. The bruise he’d seen all those months ago feels like a siren he’d ignored; it makes him sick to think about another potential one on her wrist right now.

The doors open, Miso glances at him hesitantly. “I don’t know about you… but I actually had a good time tonight.” She nods once. “Thanks, Yoongi.”

He slips his hands in his pockets and shrugs. “Thanks for what?”

“You know…” She steps in between the doors to stop them from closing and turns to face him. “Helping me out… with the Kung Pao chicken and everything,” she finishes, her mouth lifting up at the corners. By the way she bites her lip, he knows his own face is betraying at least a hint of humour. Or maybe it’s exasperation, or annoyance, or infatuation, or everything at once.

“Your driver… Seungkwan?” He waits for her to nod. “He’s here?”

“Downstairs,” she confirms.

Take care. Call me if you need anything. Call me if you don’t need anything, too.

“See you around, Miso.” He waves mechanically and it immediately feels ridiculous.

She frowns curiously but mimics his awkward wave. “Bye.” She takes a step back into the elevator and presses the button, and he takes a similar step further back. She gives him a small smile as the doors start to close.

Yoongi starts to walk back towards his studio, noting the elevator only in his peripheral vision. As he leaves, the image of her on the terrace comes back to him; through another set of closing elevator doors, her look of mild satisfaction, almost expectant.

It only takes a fraction of a second; Yoongi turns on the spot and hurries back to the elevator, slipping through just before the doors close fully.

“Whoa.” Miso jerks back slightly, but doesn’t look annoyed “What are you doing?” she asks as he steps towards her.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to kiss you again,” he assures her dryly, ignoring the look she gives him and reaching over to wrap her in a hug. He waits a moment, and then two, and then relaxes when he feels her arms go stiffly around his waist.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. She smells of lilies and cigarette smoke. “But you’re not getting rid of me that easily. I’m not going anywhere,” he promises her, closing his eyes and meaning every word of it.

It takes another moment but she tightens her arms around him. Her fingertips brush his shoulders and - he hopes he’s not imagining this - he feels her smile against his collarbone. 

They step away from each other a few seconds later when the doors start to open. There’s a tinge of pink on her cheeks he’s never seen before. She hitches her bag on her shoulders as she exits.

“Don’t be such a sap, Min Suga.” But the blush says differently, as does the small smile she visibly struggles and fails to hide. 

Yoongi grins at her, wide and gummy, feeling lighter and taller all at once. He’s made a decision, and now she’s in on it, too.

—

It’s almost close to dinner time, but for once Seokjin isn’t hungry.

His phone stares at him from where he’d tossed it on the futon a few minutes ago, the screen painfully dark. He was trying to spare himself the temptation of checking it every second, but this isn’t any better.

After staring at it for a few more seconds, he reaches for it and replays the voicemail he’d sent to Nari over an hour ago.

“Hey. It’s me. Seokjin. Er, Kim Seokjin. I got discharged and I’m home. I hydrated, too, like you said. Still am, in fact. You may have been onto something, Dr Choi. Anyway… thanks for coming yesterday. It really meant a lot and I’m… God, I can’t tell you how good it was to hang out with you again. I didn’t realise how much I’d missed it. And… I do want to talk about last week. I know things have been really weird with us for a while but I don’t want them to be anymore. I’ve been thinking a lot this last week - I can’t help it, I’ve tried to stop, believe me. I’ve been way too afraid to lose you as a friend. I’d be lost without you, Nari. But… I may have been overcompensating on that front. I don’t know where this leaves us, but I want to figure it out. With you. Not in my own head, the way I’ve been doing it this whole time. I’m flying out tomorrow, but do you think we could talk tonight? Coincidentally, I have everything needed to whip up jajjangmyeon, too. Just throwing that in there. Let me know. Oh, this Seokjin.”

There’s a click to signal the end of the message, but Seokjin’s stomach churns more than ever, though not necessarily in a bad way. He’s officially entered the ring, albeit to do what, he isn’t completely sure. All he knows is that there’s no ignoring this anymore, the uncomfortable distance with Nari, the subtle hostility between her and Seulgi, the distaste with which he thinks of Kang Jason at the oddest times.

Nari hasn’t replied or called him back yet, but he tries not to stress about it. Most likely, she’s in surgery, or the ER, or even catching up on sleep in an on-call room. He’s determined to stay up all night, though; he can sleep on the flight tomorrow.

Automatically, his eyes fall to the last message he’d sent to Seulgi. Hey. I was hoping we could talk. Call me when you’re free?

She had replied a little while ago. Sure. Everything okay?

Seokjin didn’t have a response to that, so he’d sent her a skull emoji instead, hoping that would do the trick.

He wishes he wasn’t touring right now. There’s a better way to do this: with Seulgi, in person, thorough and rational - and then with Nari, slow and gentle, giving her space and control. 

But he has one day - no, one night - before he leaves once more for weeks, with all three of them left to stew in their own thoughts for that time. Sure, he can call - but calls can be ignored. So can messages, and voicemails, and then before he knows it, he’s back in Seoul, tired and jet lagged only to find out that the situation has progressed, leaving him completely out of the loop.

After considering it for a minute, he picks up the phone and calls Seulgi. Fortunately, she picks it up on the second ring.

“Hey,” she says, panting slightly. “I went out for a run; I was just about to call you. What’s up?”

“Um -“ He bites his lip. “Not - not much. How are you? How are your folks?”

“They’re good. Mum’s asking when she can meet you but I deflected that,” she adds, but there’s a knowing lilt to her voice. “You have enough going on right now.”

Do I ever. “I appreciate that. I just wanted to talk before I fly out tomorrow.”

She sighs. “I’m sorry. I really wish I could’ve been there. You barely get any time off as it is and even when you do, I’m not in town.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” He picks at a loose thread on the corner of the sofa. “You don’t have to accommodate your family plans around my crazy schedule. And I’ll be back again soon.”

“Can’t wait.” She pauses. “What did you want to talk to me about?” she asks, apparently done with small talk. “You seemed serious.”

It’s not serious, he’s about to say, but stops himself. “It’s… it’s about Nari. We kind of… ran into each other.”

There’s another pause, a longer one this time. “Okay. When?”

“Yesterday, when she visited me at the hospital. I wasn’t expecting -“

“You were in the hospital?” She interrupts him, tone suddenly anxious.

He freezes. “Yeah, but it - it wasn’t serious. I was dehydrated, that’s all. I don’t even know why they took me to the hospital, honestly. I’m back home now.”

Her next response is instant. “But Nari knew?”

“I - only because it was her hospital. And I didn’t tell her - she found out.” He waits for her to respond. “Seulgi, it wasn’t a big deal. You weren’t here - I didn’t want to worry you. I’m perfectly fine, really.”

There’s another pause and then she sighs deeply. “Okay. Is this what you wanted to talk about?”

Oh, boy. “Kind of. Well, no. I…” He sighs. “God, I really wish we were doing this in person,” he mutters.

“Wait. Are you -“ She scoffs, but it breaks slightly. “Are you breaking up with me? Over the phone?”

“No! No, I’m not. Look, I think I need to talk to Nari,” he says quickly before he loses his nerve. “It’s been a long time and I… I really need to know what’s going on. But I want you to know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…” Where do I start? “I mean, you know what it’s been like. But it’s just been too long - and I think she might be ready to talk to me, too. I have to try and fix it with her… I hope you understand why, Seulgi,” he adds, meaning it and already feeling horrendous.

“But I thought she was mad at you.” Seulgi is calm - too calm, and it’s worrying. “Or something. What’s changed?”

“That’s the thing, I don’t know.” It’s not a complete lie. I think she might have feelings for me based on a moment we shared a week ago, where neither of us actually spoke. Not only did it sound insane, it didn’t actually clarify anything. There was no point bringing it up when he wasn’t sure of it either.

“So…” She takes a deep breath on the other end. “Let me get this straight. She’s been evasive and distant and - let’s face it - sort of pissed at you. And then something changed… and suddenly she’s nursing you back to health during a hospital visit that I’m finding out about now.”

Seokjin closes his eyes. “I know it sounds bad,” he murmurs. “And I know it’s my fault it’s so messed up. I don’t… If I think back, I don’t know where I went wrong, but I’m sure I did something. You know?” He bites his lip, suddenly glad he’s flying out tomorrow, far away from his girlfriend and his best friend where he can’t hurt them anymore. “I don’t want to be unfair to you,” he admits.

“Why do you think you are?” she asks quietly.

“I don’t know…” He runs a hand down his face tiredly. “There’s a lot of history there and baggage and stuff…” There's no telling what we’ll find.

“You know what I think, Seokjin?” she says after a few moments. “I think you’re not fully sure of what you want. Or you are,” she guesses, “and you just don’t want to admit it because if you do and you don’t get it, you’re afraid it’ll devastate you.”

Seokjin swallows. His vision blurs without warning and he blinks rapidly, a distinct memory threatening to surface, of hope being crushed in his chest, a life he’d dared to imagine disappearing before he’d even fully wrapped his head around it. He’d repressed it as best as he could, figuring there was no one to blame but himself for this lapse in judgement, but it had inadvertently set actions in motion that he will regret for a long time. 

He’s taking too long to respond, he realises, but he’s afraid to speak. It might all boil down to that one night and the thought of what it meant - of what it might still mean - is too overwhelming to think about. 

“I’m glad you don’t want to be unfair to me,” she states, and there’s finally a bite to her tone. “So call me when you figure it out.” She hangs up.

Seokjin stays frozen for a minute before he sighs, tossing his phone back on the sofa and dropping his head in his hands. Suddenly, everything about his relationship with Seulgi feels tainted, now that his mind is involuntarily tracing the timeline of events back to the day he met her, and then ran into her again. She was lovely and calm and straightforward and put together - and he was so tired.

He needs to talk to Nari. He needs to. His mind is blocked and so is his heart, and it’s occurring to him now that it all comes to Nari. Everything comes down to Nari.

He’d been vague but he can’t imagine she would simply ignore his message, not unless she absolutely hated him. She didn’t, though, his brain reasoned. 

She’d visited him, actually talked with him, and she’d called him Kimbap. She would call. Even if she couldn’t meet him, she would call, or text. All he has to do is wait.

—

Nari takes off her lab coat and shakes her hair out, glad to be done with the day.

“See you tomorrow, Nari,” says one of her friends, a perky first year resident with the kind of confidence Nari could only dream of. “Say hi to your famous friend for me.” She winks and leaves.

Nari rolls her eyes but scoffs in humour. Somehow, the other residents in the surgical wing had caught wind of the fact that she knew the elusive celebrity idol that was admitted to the hospital yesterday and while she’d neither confirmed nor denied it, the story spread anyway.

“You’re in a good mood,” comments Hyeri, her friend, changing out of her scrubs at the locker next door. “What did you take and can I have some?”

Nari frowns curiously and laughs. “What are you talking about?”

“That. The laughing and the smiling and the… being nice to first years and interns.” Hyeri raises her eyebrows. “We haven’t had the mental capacity for that shit in years.” She raises her eyebrows. “Is it actually because of your famous friend? I mean -” She steps closer and lowers her voice. “We’re talking about Seokjin, right?”

“I - yeah. He was here,” admits Nari. “Nothing serious, though. He got discharged today.”

“Oh.” Hyeri sounds surprised at the admission. “That makes sense. You’re relieved.”

Yes… and no. She’s certainly glad Seokjin’s okay, but despite how selfish it makes her feel, she’s even gladder that for the first time in a long time, she was able to be herself around her best friend. It’s definitely relief - Hyeri isn’t wrong about that.

“I can’t believe we’re actually out early enough to have dinner,” remarks Hyeri as they head out of the locker room, out of scrubs and in normal clothes again. “I’m going to get in the tub with a glass of wine and fall asleep in there. Obviously I’m not serious,” she adds quickly, catching Nari’s eye.

“Hey, no judgement. Add some candles while you’re at it and it’ll look like a Madonna video.”

Hyeri chortles. “I’m out of wine, though. Can you send me the number to that liquor store? The one that delivers?”

Nari nods, fishing her phone out of her bag. “Shit. My phone’s dead. Daeun has it, though - she’s the one who sent it to me.”

“Okay, let me - oh, there she is!” Waving hurriedly, Hyeri jogs towards the entrance to catch up with Daeun, another of their resident class who’s leaving for the night as well.

Nari smiles as she watches her friend dash away, and catches herself. The laughing and the smiling and the being nice to interns. It’s not a mystery, the origin of this brand new version of herself. It took a long time and a lot of frustration and courage, but a week after the fact, she knows she’s at a place with Seokjin that she was only hoping she would eventually reach.

It’s a start, she tells herself. It’s a start and irrespective of what happens next, at least it’s a start. She’s lighter and she’s calmer - sometimes, there are moments where she feels freer, as though the invisible chain that kept her tethered to her suppressed feelings has been cut through with a chainsaw. 

She stops by the pharmacy in the lobby of the surgical wing to pick up some antiseptic for her first aid box. While the cashier rings up her purchase, she turns absently and spots Jason at the reception, still in scrubs and handing in a couple of patient charts. As he clicks his pen closed and tucks it in his pocket, he grins at something the nurse says and responds, making her laugh.

Grabbing her antiseptic, Nari walks over to him, smiling when he spots her.

“Hey.” He takes in her clothing? “Leaving already? I thought you were helping Dr Park with her trial research.”

Nari shrugs. “She gave me the night off.”

“Wow. Is she okay?”

“I’m not going to ask; I’m just taking the night,” she tells him. It’s a start. “What about you? Are you, uh, free tonight?”

Jason raises his eyebrows casually. “Uh, yeah. I have a couple of things to close out, but I can head out in a bit. Or I can meet you back at my apartment, too, if you want.”

“No, um…” She shakes her head and bites her lip. She hasn’t done this in… ever. “I meant, are you free… for a drink.”

He clearly notices the change in her tone. “A drink,” he repeats. “Just you and me. Like a…”

“M-hm.” Nari nods, but she doesn’t think he’ll say no. Familiarity builds over time, and Nari is suddenly seeing the world - and the people in it - in a newer light.

After a moment, Jason nods. “Absolutely. Just give me fifteen minutes?” He waits for her to nod as well and smiles, touching her elbow as he leaves.

She watches him go and her heart beats pleasantly fast with a small risk that’s paid off. She’s definitely lighter, brighter, calmer - and she can only route it back to the night of her confession to Seokjin. It felt like a start but maybe - just maybe - it was closure.

—

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