#( but it lacks the love and warmth and comfort of the diner )

[clochanamarch]

si.ms 4 is updating so let me tell u abt the restaurant aisling operates in her the bo.ys verse:

it's called rún, the irish word for secret. outwardly "because we keep our guests' attendance and identities a secret from those outside the restaurant", but it's more because she steals the secrets and delivers them to people who can utilise them to their most destructive advantage.

it's michelin-star winning stuff here. they don't publish this information, but the restaurant has three stars and is staffed by the finest chefs in the world (more specifically, the finest chefs who are willing and eager to contribute to the dissolution of the seven)

the windows are sealed against bugs, bullets and coated with a chemical that prevents supes from using their powers on those inside.

all guests are assigned numbers to protect their anonymity, although aisling knows their names and gains their trust through flattery and subtle psychological tricks, namely belittling herself and the staff, researching them through social media, and reducing their interactions with the staff as much as possible, though the latter is designed to protect the staff from unwanted attention.

basically, this verse is one where she has no other choice but to display her logic and strategic skills as much as possible. everything is purposeful and designed, she has back-up plans for everything, like aisling in her main verse is actively searching for a home and a joy that she's been lacking in her life since before eoin, and now in this verse the joy and love she had in new york is replaced with a terrifying new world that isolates her to the point where she's capable of being far more methodical and decisive and thoughtful in order to regain the world she knows and loves. rún being opulent but cold is a prime example of that, there's no bright warmth, it's all sleek and minimal and efficient, which is precisely what she needs to be in order to restore the world as she knows it to be.

[thollandsgirl2013]

Hii, can I request one in which, the reader is like not used to getting much attention or she's always felt the need to do something to deserve it. But Peter or Tom just loves her so unconditionally and she always has his undivided attention whenever she needs it

Hi! I didn't really know how to approach this one. But I tried. Hope you still like it!

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿  ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐀𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → none

Summary → The reader's not used to getting attention, but Peter's different.

(gif not mine)

The cafe was bustling with activity, the scent of freshly baked cookies filling the air. You stood near the counter, nervously tapping your fingers against the cool marble. It was one of those moments where you felt the need to perform.

The group of your classmates—people you barely considered close friends—sitting at a nearby table, laughed at something someone said, their energy loud and infectious. You smiled, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. You grabbed a plate of cookies and walked over to them, putting on your best bubbly expression.

“Hey guys! These are fresh from the oven, I made them,” you announced, setting the plate down with an exaggerated flourish.

They paused for a moment, looking at the cookies. “Oh, thanks,” one of the girls said absentmindedly before returning to her conversation. The others followed suit, barely sparing you a glance.

You stood there awkwardly, the heat rising to your cheeks. They didn’t even notice the effort you’d put into baking them, didn’t ask how long it had taken or if you’d made them from scratch.

Eventually, you drifted back to the counter, your shoulders slumping. You’d done it again—gone out of your way to get someone’s attention, only to be met with indifference. It always left you feeling hollow, but you didn’t know any other way.

---

Two months into your relationship with Peter Parker, things felt… different. Good, but different.

You sat across from him at your favorite diner, nervously stirring your milkshake with your straw. Peter was already halfway through his, occasionally sneaking fries off your plate. You didn’t mind. What caught you off guard was the way he was watching you.

“What?” You asked, your voice uncertain.

Peter blinked, as if snapping out of a trance. “What do you mean?”

“You’re staring,” you said with a small laugh, trying to hide the nervousness creeping up your spine.

Peter grinned sheepishly. “I didn’t realize. I just… I like watching you.”

You froze, the words settling in your chest like a warm, unfamiliar weight. “Why?”

He tilted his head, genuinely confused. “Because you’re interesting.”

“Interesting?” You repeated, laughing softly. “I’m not interesting.”

Peter frowned, leaning forward. “Yes, you are. Like, just now—you were stirring your milkshake in this little circle. You always do that when you’re thinking about something.”

Your brows furrowed. “I do?”

He nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. And earlier, when we were ordering, you asked about the specials even though you already knew what you wanted. You always do that too. It’s like you like hearing your options, even if you’re already set on something.”

Your cheeks burned as his words sank in. No one had ever paid attention to you like this—not without you going out of your way to make them notice. And here Peter was, noticing things about you that even you hadn’t realized.

“That’s… weird,” you said softly, though your voice lacked any real conviction.

“It’s not weird,” Peter said firmly. “It’s you. And I love learning about you.”

The warmth in your chest grew, spreading to your fingertips. You looked down at your milkshake, feeling almost shy under his gaze.

---

Later that week, you were sitting on Peter’s bed, flipping through one of his textbooks while he tinkered with something on his desk. The quiet hum of the room was comforting, a stark contrast to the noise of your usual environment.

“Hey,” Peter said suddenly, turning to look at you.

“Yeah?”

He stood up and walked over, sitting beside you on the bed. “You’re really quiet today.”

You shrugged, unsure how to explain the thoughts swirling in your head. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

You hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip. “About how… I don’t know. I feel like I’ve been trying to get people to notice me my whole life. Like, I have to do something for anyone to pay attention.”

Peter’s expression softened, and he reached out to take your hand. “You don’t have to do anything for me to notice you.”

You looked up at him, your heart aching at the sincerity in his voice. “You always say that, but I don’t get it. Why? Why do you pay so much attention to me?”

Peter smiled, his thumb gently tracing circles on the back of your hand. “Because I care about you. And because you’re worth noticing. You don’t have to put on a show or bake cookies or do anything special. You’re already special, just by being you.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you quickly wiped them away. “No one’s ever said that to me before.”

“Well, get used to it,” Peter said with a grin. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

You laughed softly, leaning into his shoulder. For the first time, you felt truly seen—not because of something you’d done, but because of who you were. And it was enough.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

[wildlife4life]

Fuck-It Friday Coda

Tagged by @try-set-me-on-fire @devirnis @buddierights @wikiangela @tizniz @exhuastedpigeon @hippolotamus @cal-daisies-and-briars @disasterbuckdiaz @rainbow-nerdss @daffi-990 @dangerpronebuddie @theotherbuckley and @watchyourbuck (because she just dropped a whole ass spec fic that is amazing!) Still barely Friday here, so I am not late to Fuck-it Friday and staying on my coda drop schedule. Here is my 7x03 coda! Enjoy here and on ao3! If you want to know when these codas drop, interact with this post!

They each give Bobby and Athena one last tight hug on the boat before stepping onto dry land and make their way towards the LAFD suv parked close by. Hen walked beside them for a short while, exchanging another round of thanks, praises, and reminders of being there for each other. When she spots Karen breaking away from crowd of concerned loved ones and onlookers, Hen waves them forward and goes to greet her wife.

Its almost lunch time by the time Buck, Eddie, and Chimney make it back to station, and they are all dead beat tired and starving. Chimney tries to invite them for a celebratory lunch but its cut off by jaw cracking yawn that has Eddie and Buck wincing, then echoed by their own.  The paramedic chuckles and the just as slap tired firemen join in. “Breakfast at the usual place tomorrow?”

Eddie just hums in agreement, while Buck smiles and answers, “Definitely. Let Hen know?”

“Can’t celebrate without the woman of the hour. Hopefully now she’ll pick up the phone.” Soft laughter follows, “Alright boys, I’m off to put my blackout curtains to the test. I suggest you do the same.” Chim mock solutes them both and strides out of the locker room.

Buck stuffs the sea drenched uniform into his duffle and pulls on a too cool, green hoodie.  The lack of warmth from the material on his still damp skin and adrenalin come down has him shivering.

He already knows what dreams await him when (if) he closes his eyes to sleep. A mix of Bobby and Christopher drowning in the harsh waves of the ocean, screaming for Buck to save them and him failing to do so before being pulled under himself.  

A chill shoot’s up his spine so piercing, it has Buck inhaling sharply and flinching forward with both hands, slamming his locker close. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Eddie whip around and drop his own duffle as he scurries over to Buck’s side.

Warmth finally seeps into Buck with the press of Eddie’s hand to his shoulder and the shivers lessen. “Hey, hey it’s okay. Everyone is okay.” Eddie soothes, his breath ghosting the back of Buck’s neck, warming him further.

Buck takes a deep breath, “I know that, Eddie. Just…” He closes his eyes and shakes his head, trying to get rid of Bobby and Christopher’s waterlogged features.

Eddie’s grip tightens but doesn’t let the silence of Buck’s loss of words linger for long. “Bobby’s place is on the way to the diner, so we can stop by in the morning.”

Buck cocks his head in confusion, “Um, I know your tired and all Eds, but Bobby’s place is definitely a detour to the diner from my place.”

“Good thing you’re coming back to mine then.” Eddie states with no room argument and a little bit of the tight fear in Buck’s body seeps out. Eddie’s house means he can physically see Christopher is safe and nowhere near the turbulent waves they pulled themselves out of just a few hours ago.

“Okay.” He agrees, then softly adds on, “Thank you.”

Eddie pats his shoulder, “Don’t thank me for having your back.”

🛳️🛳️🛳️🛳️🛳️🛳️🛳️🛳️

Christopher is well into school by the time Eddie and Buck make it back to the Diaz household. Buck has to take a few deep breaths outside the kid’s empty room, reminding himself that he’ll see him in less than four hours. Eddie gives him a sympathetic and understanding grimace before shoving him towards the bathroom.

The heat of the shower washes away the remaining chill and ocean salt clinging to his skin, replaced with the comforting scent of Eddie’s products, a mix of citruses and cedar. A pair of gray athletic shorts, fuzzy blue socks, and his blue sweatshirt that has been missing since before Buck’s lightening coma, are waiting for him on the bathroom counter when he open’s the curtain.

Buck pulls on the items of clothing and is taken by surprised by their enveloping warmth. His heart squeezes in his chest, knowing Eddie must have tumbled the clothes in the dryer while he showered.

Making his way back to the living room, Buck finds the older man lounging on the couch in a pair of cut off sweats and another one of Buck’s missing sweatshirts, this one dark green. “Are you the sweatshirt thief?” Buck accuses light heartedly, flopping down next to said thief and pressing into his side, shoulder to thigh.

Eddie shrugs, unbothered and unapologetic, “Cheaper than buying my own.”

Buck gaffs in mock offense but doesn’t even argue or hide how much he likes seeing Eddie in his clothes. Just another thing the man does that soothes Buck’s shaken nerves.

Pulling his knees up to his chest, Buck wraps his arms around them then drops his head onto Eddie’s shoulder. Without hesitation, Eddie’s head falls to rest on his still damp hair. “Thank you for the clothes and bringing me here… for having my back.” Buck whispers.

He feels Eddie’s head turn slightly to nuzzle his nose into Buck’s curls.  His partner’s lips brush against Buck’s scalp as he speaks, “Last time I’m saying this, you don’t need to thank me for any of it.  That’s not how it works for us.”

Buck lets out a slow breath, “Yea…. I know, but that will never stop me from appreciating you and everything you do. I will never not be grateful that you have my back.”

“Well,” Those lips drift downwards to Buck’s temple, Eddie’s voice sending delicate vibrations across the skin and muscle and casting a whole different kind of shiver through Buck’s body, “I’m just as appreciative and grateful for you too.”

Buck doesn’t quite know if he imagines it, with how he has been drifting to sleep since falling to the couch, but he hopefully believes he felt the firm press of Eddie’s lips to his temple that lingered past platonic.

And when he feels Eddie’s breaths even out across the top of his head, Buck can hear the echo of their gratitude and appreciation fade into discreet exchanges of I love you’s.  Those echoes with Eddie’s warmth, keep the nightmarish tides away, allowing Buck to truly rest.

Very belated tagging: @theotherbuckley @perfectlysunny02 @aroeddiediaz @loserdiaz @diazsdimples @jesuisici33 @fortheloveofbuddie @rogerzsteven @lemonzestywrites @evanbegins @buck-coded @glorious-spoon @thekristen999 @spotsandsocks @sunshinediaz @lover-of-mine @hoodie-buck @elvensorceress @gayedmundodiaz @giddyupbuck @jeeyuns @bekkachaos @thewolvesof1998 @eddiebabygirldiaz @spaceprincessem @eddiiediaz @honestlydarkprincess @doublecheekeddiaz @prosperdemeter2 @transboybuckley @nmcggg @monsterrae1 @missmagooglie @thebloomingheather

[harryistheonlyoneforme]

No rush, but when do you think you’ll add part 4 here? Love ya xx

Ruin(4)*

warnings: fluff, smut, sex toy use, masturbation, oral(m receiving)

series masterlist

main masterist

harry styles masterlist

~

The first thing YN feels when she wakes up is the chill that has taken over her body, shivering slightly as she sits up. She rubs her hands up and down her body, just looking around her bedroom. In the midst of her confusion, she doesn't even notice that she's naked, not until she looks over at her bedside clock and notices that it's well past midnight.

Going to stand from her bed to stretch, she finally notices the lack of clothing on her body, confusion still evident on her face until realization dawns on her. A small gasp leaves her lips as she remembers what happened just a few hours before, and then she finally hears the sounds coming from her living room.

YN quickly throws on her robe and makes her way out into the hallway, seeing some light coming from the room just a few feet away. Realizing that it's just her TV, she heads in there to turn it off when she sees her gynaecologist sitting on her couch with her remote in his hand and a slice of pizza in the other. She gasps quite loudly, making his head whip over to her in shock.

"Holy shit, you scared me" Harry chuckles, clearing his throat before finishing his slice of pizza. He swallows the last bite and dusts his hands off, making his way to the beautiful woman just a few feet away. "I ordered some pizza. But I didn't know what kind you'd prefer so I just got cheese. I hope that's alright" he says, resting on the back of the couch. He chuckles quietly when he sees her nod, reaching over to grab her arm and pull her to his chest before he's wrapping his arms around her.

She's instantly melting into his embrace, the two of them basking in the warmth of each other. It's so domestic that Harry doesn't know what to do with himself, his heart hammering in his chest as he turns to the side and presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head before breathing in deeply and getting a whiff of her shampoo. His eyes close in contentment, and that's when it finally dawns on him that he's falling for this girl. His patient. He's spent weeks with her on his mind every second of the day, but he chucked it up to it being lust and his corrupted mind, but right now, her being in his arms just feels so right he never wants to leave.

Reluctantly, he pulls away to help her over to the couch so she can eat, asking if he can get her anything to drink. She chuckled and asks for a bottled water, a smile on her face as he scurries into the kitchen for her drink. She thanks him for her drink and digs in, the pizza still hot so she knows he got it recently. Doing some thinking, she realizes he got it from the pizza shop just a few blocks down that doesn't close until 3 am. YN can't even count the times she's been there after waking up with an empty stomach.

The first few bites of the pizza are pure heaven, her eyes rolling back as Harry chuckles at her reaction, watching in adoration as she enjoys the food. The two sit in comfortable silence, just watching the television in front of them until Harry decides to break the silence. "How did you sleep?" he asks nonchalantly, leaning back to rest into the couch. YN is mid bite when he asks, and she hurriedly finishes chewing before answering his question.

"I slept well, thank you for cleaning me up and tucking me in" she says sheepishly, turning her head to look at the attractive man beside her. He hums in recognition before pulling his phone from under his leg as he notices there's no more pizza.

"No problem, I'm glad you slept well. Are you still hungry? I was thinking about heading out to the diner down the street for a bite to eat. Would you like to come with?" he questions timidly, afraid of her answer.

A surprised chuckle leaves his lips as her face lights up and she hops up from the couch, agreeing. She goes to clean up the table, but Harry doesn't let her. "I've got it, go get dressed" he says softly, watching her nod and head down the hallway as she expresses her gratitude.

~

About ten minutes later, YN is walking down the hall wearing some shorts and a hoodie, and Harry knows he's already whipped when his cock hardens at the sight of her fully covered in a casual outfit. Shaking away his thoughts, he gives her a smile and grabs his keys and the two head out to his car to make their way to the diner.

Harry opens the door for her, and she thanks him before he's jogging around to his side and hopping in, making sure she's all set before driving off.

The car is relatively silent, aside from their gentle breathing and the sound of his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. He doesn't know what to say but he can't stand the silence, so he slips a disc in the player and soon enough, the sound of 'Go Your Own Way' by Fleetwood Mac fills the car quietly, and he hears a loud gasp from beside him. He cuts his eyes to the right to see YN with a large smile on her face and her eyes on him.

"You listen to Fleetwood Mac?" she asks excitedly, and Harry knows right then that he's going to ask her out tonight, maybe on the way back to her place. He hums and nods, loving the pure joy he can see radiating from her. Suddenly she's turning in the seat so her back is against the door and she can face him entirely.

"What's your favourite album?" she quizzes, needing to know if they're as similar as she thinks. He tells her his favourite is 'Rumors' and his smile is doubling in size, his dimples getting deeper as she gasps once more. "There's no way! I love that one too!" she gushes, relaxing back into the seat as they listen to the song, talking about the albums and individual songs, all the way until they arrive at the diner.

He kills the engine and hops out before making his way around to her side and opening the door, grabbing her hand and helping her out. Closing the door, the two head to the entrance of the diner he's never been to.

YN says hello to the older man that owns the diner, making her way to give him a hug.

"Haven't seen you around in a bit, Y/N/N. Who's curly?" he jokes, referring to Harry's hair.

The two of them chuckle before Harry's introducing himself to the man. The man introduces himself in return and tells them to sit down wherever they'd like. YN chooses a booth near the jukebox, already having plans for how the rest of the night should go. Before Harry sits down, he slips some coins into the jukebox to play some more Fleetwood Mac, loving the smile that lights up her gorgeous face.

Sliding in, Harry sits down across from her as he skims the menu, speaking up first. "He seems really nice. Do you come here a lot?" he questions curiously, glancing up at her before looking at the drink menu.

"Yeah. I've known Joe almost all my life. He was there for me when my dad died and really helped my mom out when it came to providing for me" she says, and Harry sees a look of hurt cross over her face at the mention of her father.

"I'm so sorry to hear that" Harry sympathizes, unknowing of how to console her, so he reaches over to her hand that's resting on the table and takes it in his before rubbing his thumb over it gently. She gives him a small smile, but doesn't pull away, still running her eyes over the menu.

Clearing her throat, she speaks up first. "Harry, we should get milkshakes!" she says excitedly, the atmosphere between them instantly changing back as if their conversation hadn't happened just a few seconds prior.

Nodding, Harry looks at the expansive list of flavours before deciding on a cookie dough milkshake with no cherry. YN throws a fit when he says that, but eventually gets over it as she orders her burger and milkshake, Harry ordering a grilled chicken sandwich with his. The two chat until their food gets to the table, thanking Joe happily.

They talk throughout the whole meal, from college to their childhoods. In the silent diner, their soft chatter and laughter fill the space, and neither of them see Joe with a bright smile on his face, loving to see YN truly happy. When they're almost finished, Harry finally builds the courage to ask something that's been on his mind all day.

"Will you go on a date with me?" he blurts out, and his heart is in overdrive as he sees the frown on her face, but it's instantly swelling when she speaks up.

"Was this not a date already?" she asks nonchalantly, taking another drink of her thick milkshake. His heart stutters in his chest at her words and his breath gets caught in his throat.

"Do you want it to be?" he questions, stunned at her words. She just hums and nods, going back to playing the game on her phone as Harry sits there completely elated, a huge smile on his face. Throughout the rest of their time together, he's unable to keep his eyes off her and the smile has not left his face once. The two thank Joe and YN hugs him before the two head back out to his car.

~

Pulling back into her apartment complex, Harry jumps out the car and opens her door as she steps out and walks her to the entrance of her home, neither of them wanting the night to end.

They walk so slowly, anything to prolong the night, until they get to her front door. YN unlocks the door and takes a deep breath before turning to him. "Would you like to stay over?" she asks timidly, and that's when Harry can't take it anymore, leaning down to press his lips to hers.

YN is shocked for only a moment before she's deepening the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck.

They pull away breathlessly, smiles on both their faces. "I'd love to" he pants, entering her home once more.

~

Since Harry had no clothes comfortable enough for him to sleep in, he decided to sleep in just his boxers, per YN's request. She didn't want him to have to go all the way home just for a change of clothes, so she suggested for him to just take off his jeans and his shirt. He obliged, folding his clothes neatly and placing them atop a chair she'd had in her bedroom. When he goes to ask for blankets and a pillow to sleep on the couch, though, she brushes it off and just tells him to hop in her bed.

He's a bit nervous to say the least, climbing into her bed and lying down in the part furthest from her. YN isn't having that, so she tells him it's okay to scoot in, happy to have a cuddle buddy instead of her pillow.

Reluctantly, Harry slides closer to her, spooning her from behind as he finally relaxes, the both of them happy to be so close to one another. Harry and YN fall asleep with small smiles on their faces, perfectly content.

~

The next morning, Harry wakes up to warmth and the feeling of little bits of pressure all over his face, making him groan and start to slowly open his eyes. Upon opening them, he's shocked to see YN above him, pressing small kisses all over his face. A smile adorns his face at the gorgeous woman above him, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her on top of him, pressing his lips to hers passionately. Pulling away, YN breaks the silence.

"Do you want some breakfast? I was thinking about ordering some in if you'd like to stay" she explains, lifting her head slightly to look at his face.

"Of course. What are you trying to order?" he asks, still not letting go of her. She tells him and he thinks of what they have, deciding on his meal.

They order the food and once it arrives, they dig in and enjoy, watching TV and talking as they do. When they're done, YN goes to walk to the window beside the couch and notices a bag sitting there, one that she definitely did not leave there. Curiosity fills her as she heads over and picks it up but doesn't open it, instead walking over to Harry and telling him that he left a bag over there. She watches in confusion as his face lights up.

"That's actually something for you! You know when you rub the little button down there and you get that funny feeling deep in your tummy?" he questions, watching her nod. "Well all the things in that bag help you get that feeling without having to use your hand! Would you like to try them?" he asks, chuckling as she nods eagerly before leaning down and taking him into her arms, thanking him. "No problem, love. Let's head up to your room, hm?" he says, leaning backwards and placing a gentle kiss on her lips.

She nods eagerly, practically skipping to her bedroom with the bag in her hand, Harry giggling at her excitement. He enters the bedroom to see her sitting on the edge of the bed fully clothed, so he tells her that it's probably best to undress if she's comfortable. That makes her nod eagerly before she's standing up and stripping right there in front of Harry.

While she gets comfortable on the bed once more, Harry comes up with a plan. He sets the bag down and grabs her full length mirror from beside her bedroom door, moving it to where it is opposite her bed. Walking back over, he tells her that he's going to go wash the toys off in her bathroom. Arriving back in her room, he gives her a small smile as he walks to the bed, placing another kiss onto her lips and climbing on.

"Do you think you could show me how you touch yourself down there? Maybe show me what you like?" he asks softly, careful not to offend her or scare her. She nods gently at his words before simply leaning back and spreading her legs, a small moan leaving Harry's lips once he sees her cunt glistening in the lighting of her bedroom.

"Yeah, that's fine. I've been really wet down there ever since you told me you have things that will make me feel good" she says as if her words hold no weight, wasting no time and using her dominant hand to play with her folds a bit. "It feels nice when I do this and then play with my button. It's like I get wetter" she shrugs.

"Oh? How much wetter?" he questions, his cock hardening in his boxers. He takes the pause in her speech to gently free his cock, hissing in relief once the pressure is lessened.

"It's like I'm dripping down there. Is that normal?" she asks softly, hoping there's nothing wrong with her but still swiping a finger through her sodden folds. The contrast of her sweet voice and lewd actions have Harry moaning out loud, rubbing his thumb over the head of his leaking cock. "What are you doing?" she asks, confused.

"Yes, baby. It's normal" he pants, still circling the sensitive head. "And what I'm doing is like what you're doing. It's the same thing, I just have to do it a little differently. It's just like when you rub your button. If I do it long enough, I get a funny feeling in my tummy too" he says breathlessly, starting to spread his precum around his shaft so he can stroke it comfortably.

"Oh, okay. Well if you show me how, do you think I could help you get that feeling like when you help me?" she questions timidly, and Harry has to hold the base of his cock to keep himself from cumming at her words, his cock twitching wildly.

"Fuck" he moans. "Sure, baby. We can try it later. Right now, though, I need you to show me how you get that feeling in your tummy. Can you do that for me, honey?" he questions, trying his hardest to stave off his impending orgasm. She nods and gets right back to the task at hand, using her accumulated wetness to rub around the sensitive head of her clit. A loud whine leaves her lips at the feeling, her head lulling to the side as she works on the sensitive nub.

"Oh, Harry this feels so good" she moans, planting her feet flat on the bed to get a better angle to stimulate herself.

It takes everything in Harry not to storm over to her and get a taste of her, to climb between his legs and bury his face in her warmth. No, he has to keep his composure, make sure he sees what she likes best for when he gets the toys. Unsurprisingly, it only takes her about five minutes before she's nearing her peak, her legs starting to shake and her cries intensifying. She rubs her clit around two more times before she's cumming with a shout of his name, a groan leaving his lips as well as he gets onto his knees and makes his way to her.

Harry slides behind her on the bed as she's still catching her breath, the cleaned toys in his hand.

"Are you ready to use one of these, Lovie?" he coos, rubbing up and down her arm as she relaxes into him.

She nods and slides back a bit so she's more comfortable, turning her head to purse her lips, wanting a kiss from Harry. He chuckles at her adorable face, pressing a kiss to her awaiting lips, groaning in shock when she deepens it and reaches behind her, palming his sensitive cock. "I want you to help me out, baby. I really do, but right now we're focusing on you.

Will you let me take care of you for a bit?" he coos, brushing some hair from her slightly sweaty forehead as she pouts gently but nods. "Good girl" he praises, smiling widely as she whimpers quietly and closes her still spread legs.

"Did you like that?" he asks softly, watching her avoid his face as she nods. "Well, that's alright. I'm glad you like it, you're my good girl. You know that, right?" he questions, making her nod feverishly. "I know you do. Let's get to the toys now, hm?" he requests and she nods once more.

"Okay, we're going to start with this small bullet. It's gonna vibrate on your little button and make you feel so good, I promise" he tells her, watching as she spreads her legs in anticipation of the small pink object in his hand.

He says nothing more, swirling it to the lowest setting before using his free hand to hold back her thigh for better access. The second she feels the toy on her clit, she's moaning quietly, trying to get an idea of this new feeling. "How does it feel?" Harry asks, rubbing his thumb on her thigh.

"It feels nice, but kind of like I need more" she responds, and Harry smirks, turning up the bullet a couple settings, his cock twitching at the loud moan she lets out.

"Is that better, baby? Does that feel good on your button?" he coos, looking up into the mirror to see her nodding with her eyes squeezed shut, both hands gripping the duvet underneath her tightly. He can see her bottom lip tucked between her teeth and he wants nothing more than to be the one biting it for her. "I bet. Are you starting to feel the burning in your tummy again?" he questions, pressing it onto her clit harder.

"Uh huh" she whines, her legs shaking. "I'm close to that big feeling"

He chuckles at her innocence, deciding to finally tell her what the feeling is. "Well, honey. That feeling you've been getting? It's called an orgasm. When you feel it, let me know, but saying orgasm is too formal so just say 'I'm gonna cum'. Is that okay?" he questions and she's nodding once more, her moans coming more frequently.

"Harry, I'm gonna cum" she whines, bucking her hips upward to lean into the stimulation of the bullet. Harry chuckles before giving her the okay.

"Okay, honey. Cum for me. Let it all out, baby" he coos, and her legs are instantly locking up as her orgasm takes over, a deep groan leaving her lips.

He leaves it there until she whines from overstimulation, and Harry moves the bullet away from her twitching cunt. Her chest is heaving as she comes down and Harry is rubbing up and down her thigh and cooing into her ear, making sure she knows she's safe with him.

When she finally comes down, he breaks the silence, clearing his throat to get her attention. He finds her eyes before asking her the question.

"Do you think you could take another orgasm with the other toy or should we leave that for another day?" he questions, nodding in understanding when YN shakes her head softly. He's prepared to clean her up and get her to bed, but she's stopping him from leaving the bed.

"No, I'm ready to help you out the way you help me" she says, and Harry literally moans out loud at her words, nodding and relaxing into the bed.

"Okay, honey. We can do that. Do you have any idea of what to do?" he whispers, and she thinks for a moment before nodding her head.

"I just do what you were doing, right? Moving my hand up and down?" she inquires, and his heart is filling with pride at how observant his sweet girl is.

"That's right, honey. You're so observant, such a good girl for me" he coos, and she nods, melting into him before she's climbing up onto her knees and turning to him before sitting on her heels.

"The only thing you missed is that you have to get it wet so it's not uncomfortable" he tells her, reaching down to pull his hard cock out once more.

"Could I use my mouth?" she questions, chuckling as Harry nods eagerly at her words. YN wastes no more time before she's leaning down to lick on his cock like a lollipop, a whimper leaving his lips at the feeling. She keeps doing so until she's satisfied, sitting up to take is cock in her palm. "Should I go fast or slow?" she inquires, and Harry tells her to go at a speed somewhere in the middle. She does so, looking up to him for approval. "Like this?"

"Fuck. Yes, honey. Just like that" he moans, bucking his hips as his orgasm is already nearing, the events of the last hour catching up to him. He takes one look at her concentrated face and whimpers, calling her name to get her attention.

"Can you kiss me please? Need to feel your lips" he whines, and she's instantly obliging, leaning up to press their lips together, Harry deepening it and biting down onto her lip gently. She moans into his mouth at the feeling and he groans, pulling away to throw his head back at the feeling of her hand.

"Shit, YN. I'm gonna cum" he warns. "Just a little faster" he demands, his balls drawing up beneath her fist. "Just like that, fuck" he says, cum starting to shoot from the head of his cock before he's going completely still and letting rope after rope of cum leave his sensitive cock. YN just watches in amazement as the thick, creamy substance lands all over her fist and his stomach.

The second he's gently pushing her hand away, she can't resist, sticking her tongue out to taste the liquid. She hums at the taste, liking it but not going in for a second lick.

Harry is still panting as she does so, and he watches her reach for her shirt that's beside the bed, cleaning up her sticky thighs before her hand, and eventually his cock and his stomach, gentle so she doesn't hurt him. He feels guilty for her having to clean them up, but his orgasm truly took everything out of him and he can only watch as she throws it across the room to her laundry hamper before she's pulling the duvet over the both of them, climbing into his open arms.

He reaches over and turns off the bedside lamp, neither of them having the energy to get up and turn off the main lights. His arms are wrapped around her as her head lie on his chest, the only sounds in the bedroom being their slightly harsh breathing as they start to succumb to their exhaustion.

"Could I ask you something, YN?" Harry speaks up, breaking the silence. She responds with a hum of acknowledgment, his cue to continue.

"Will you be my girlfriend?" he asks nervously, still holding her body tight against his, her breathing evening out.

"Of course, could never say no to that" she responds, dozing off immediately after. Harry presses a loving kiss on her head before nodding off as well, a dimpled smile on his face.

~

[becomedecay]

starter status: open

where: twisted sisters pub

who: torbjörn

setting: tor, feeling disheartened by his inability to write seeks comfort in alcohol. being the mouthpiece of mortis, it's rare for him to be able to go out and enjoy life. do you recognise him? if you do — how will you approach? if you don't recognise him, great, maybe you'll be able to make conversation with him. maybe you don't recognise him from mortis, but you've seen him around town with his daughter astrid—or you've taught her, taken care of her in the moon & sun daycare centre or babysat her when he's needed the help.

cap: 4/4 — capped!

He's been engrossed in his notebook, writing out poetic meanings and phrases that could stab the heart—none of it works, his pen scrawling and scratching the paper until it breaks through to the page beneath. Huffing & sighing, Tor accepts that writing songs under stressful conditions just wouldn't do. Closing his notebook, he slips it away into his tattered messenger bag and decides it's in his best interest to just approach the remainder of the day as if he didn't just try to write more gothic, hell—worshipping music laced with hints of a love song.

It's all part of the mourning. The yearning. She's still unseen, her presence a knife in his chest. God, he misses her.

Slinging the bag strap over his head and across his chest, Tor leaves the ugly mug diner, knowing that the only cure for the lack of creativity is a hard beer. Hands tucked in his leather jacket pockets, he braces himself for the mid-evening chill as he walks to the twisted sisters pub, the only place he's found so far that makes him feel at home.

The walk felt so long, minutes dragged like hours but he makes it eventually, pushing through the main doors into the warmth and cluttered sounds of the pub. Immediately he feels more at ease, softly grinning to himself as he takes it all in. If only she could see this place.

Approaching the bar, Tor gives a happy wave and greets the bartender with relief. "Hey! Can I get a beer whenever you're ready? Thanks." He asks, leaning onto the bar with both his elbows. Instinctively, Tor begins fiddling with the drink mat they put down, twirling it in his hands.

As soon as someone comes and stands beside him, he stops, aware that the presence of another person means all his actions will become observed. Looking up, he straightens his back and acknowledges the new arrival with a gentle smile. "You've come at the right time. Place isn't too busy so you won't be waiting long." He's never been good at small talk, and this shows it in all its raw glory. Stifling himself from saying anything else potentially useless, he turns his attentions back to the mat, placing it flat on the bar top just as the bartender brings over his drink. "Cheers." Tor mutters, taking a sip to shut himself up.

[complicatcd]

Following him to Woodside broke every rule she'd ever laid for herself. When the two of them had first met, their eyes saying more than they ever could aloud, she'd known that everything was different with him. Being with him was like playing fire, but all her fears be damned, she'd played without any regard to being burned. His touch was the kind poets wrote about, strong, but gentle and warm. His kiss was the kind that danced on her tongue for days after, always causing her hunger to double every time it was over. A part of her had loved him without even knowing him and while being there went against every wall she'd put up between them... she simply didn't care.

Putting her career on pause hadn't entirely been for the chase. It was something she'd wanted to do for awhile, the life beneath the spotlight having worn her paper thin. It was only after she'd settled into the quiet town that she'd realized how much of a life she'd missed out on. She wasn't built for simple, but she craved it.

Aksel sucked in a shallow breath, her gaze dropping to his smile and the lips that had never failed to leave a trail of heat wherever they fell. "I think that's what they say," she nodded, her own coy grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. She'd always been crazy about him. Whether it was the tired chats exchanged during three in the morning entangled sessions, or during late hours at a diner in the middle of absolutely nowhere, she hung on his every word. She watched the man shift, a muscle in her jaw tensing as she remained settled against the back of the booth. She was never quick to apologize, but for once, she'd offered it freely.

"Us." It was a quiet response, one that caused new color to raise high on her cheekbones. She'd thrown herself into a relationship to ignore how much seeing him with someone else hurt, but truth was, nothing could shield her from that little green monster and the heartache that it carried beneath the anger. "I was wrong. It was stupid bringing someone else into this." The relationship, or the lack thereof, had meant nothing to her, even if the silence signified otherwise. It was the best chance she could give something that she had no real interest in.

Her thoughts? They were all wrapped around him, much like she wanted to be. The raven haired woman nipped at her lower lip and shrugged. "I'm happy that I did this," she admitted, her usual fear of rejection nowhere to be found. She was met with reassurance, both by his words and the way the warmth of his touch consumed her entire being. Her thumb lifted to brush against his skin and her heart hammered in her chest. It was a shame that comfort lasted for an entire minute before the reality of their situation was reinstated. He was happy she was there. He missed her. He was staying with Maya.

The gentle strokes against his hand ceased, but she made no effort at pulling away either. "Are you going to marry her?" The question had settled into the space between them before she'd even had a chance to register the weight of it. If he said yes, it meant that the sliver of hope she'd clutched to was gone. If he said no, well, it would only cause more questions to stir within her. Truth was, she wasn't sure which answer would hurt more.

The kneading against her ankle was the only thing that kept her anchored to the booth. Had she really been so naive to believe that coming there would change how he felt? That he'd finally leave Maya? "It's no penthouse." She was trying to keep what little sanity remained intact. At least he was being honest with her, even if the truth damn near shattered her. Aksel offered a faint smile, thankful for the newly added buzzing of people around them. She couldn't get lost in her own thoughts if she were distracted by the sound of everyone else. "You could come by," she added, hurt shifting to anger. Maybe he wouldn't leave her, but that didn't meant that Aksel couldn't have him.

Shifting slightly with a new purpose, Aksel leaned forward, her elbows falling against the table. The case was tough, that much didn't seem new, but the delay? She wasn't mad about it and he hoped he wasn't either. "That just means that you'll be here longer, right?" The last she checked, the longer they were able to hide away in the small town, the better. Especially if it were only him and his desires. She watched his finger curl between them and a heat swirled in the pit of her stomach. "I think we can both agree that we have lost time to make up on." Aksel was a lot of things, but reserved had never been one of them. Even in the midst of ignoring the ache in her chest, she wouldn't turn her back on him. "How do you feel about taking dinner to go? You said you wanted to see my place and honestly, it's getting a little loud in here anyway."

They were something like two lost souls, two halves, that drew together in the dark. Time and circumstance, well, those particulars evaded them. He'd left the east coast some months ago for a case, one that was likely to drag on for a year, and as though Aksel felt the gravitational pull she followed. The most amazing thing was how they'd found themselves seeking out a diner in the late hours of the night, something otherworldly telling them the other would be there.

Often Amos Hassan wished that life had been a little easier. That he could fall into the heart and passion he felt deep in his gut for the woman that sat across from him, but perhaps his profession had cost him more than expected. His talent won him the most difficult of cases, even with the dirtiest most evil clients, and sometimes Amos supposed their was a price for that. Often, he'd considered that so much time focusing on success had doomed him personally. The reality was that it was only one person keeping him from what he truly wanted, well, her and her threats.

"Hey now," Amos gently teased, a smile spread across his lips as he couldn't take his eyes off of her across from him. "Life imitates art, or...something to that effect," he mused. Was being one of the best defense attorneys in the country considered an art form? Somedays Amos liked to humor his ego and think so. She wanted to make things right, and this caused Amos to shift in his seat some. An adjustment, a movement forward. His fingers laced together atop the table near a hot mug of coffee that was mostly going ignored since poured. "Make what right, Aks?" In his view she'd done nothing wrong. He was the one in a relationship. Mind you, it wasn't one he'd wanted to be involved in anymore, he just couldn't escape it. Yes, the big, bad defense attorney was ensnared in a fight where the casualties might be too much.

While some in his position might've shoved Aksel off, told her they couldn't continue this because of the level of danger that kept rising, Amos couldn't fathom it. Even if he couldn't assuage the situation with his girlfriend, Amos couldn't be upset that Aksel was across from him now. "Penny for your thoughts?" He needed to tell her that nothing had changed, even if he'd wanted it to. He needed to tell her that she must wash her hands of him and take back her life, that continuing this between them would only cause damage. But, selfishly, Amos couldn't give her up. She'd made him feel like no one else in the world had. Maybe the danger was worth that. "I'm happy you're here," he admitted, his hand reached across the table and the weight of it rest atop Aksel's. For a few moments at least. "Seeing you...does things to me. I still can't leave Maya, though."

Would she accept a man that couldn't fully be there? Was there anyway to make Aksel understand that he wanted absolutely everything with her but his mistakes wouldn't allow that to ever happen? Not only had his girlfriend laid out some not so subtle threats, he'd also discovered that she may have gotten her hands bloodied in the past. Amos would risk himself, he couldn't risk her.

It felt good, though, to make that contact with her skin. To feel, even partially, the weight of her body in his hand. His thumb kneaded around the joint of her ankle while his hand on the table finally sought out that coffee. So badly Amos wanted to whisk her to the nearest hotel, not just for the way it felt to connect with her carnally, there was privacy behind closed doors and not sat in a public place. He yearned to feel free with her. "You put work on pause, got a place here, and are fixing it up," Amos recapped what she'd updated him on. That sounded like dedication to him. "It might be wrong to admit that I'm happy you're not soon running off back home." Back to the east coast where the distance would feel like a steady weight on his chest. "I'd like to see your place," he smiled a bit, "to see what your taste is like in the midwest."

As soon as she returned the interest in an update Amos smile faltered. Reality always wanted crash back in on him, and he supposed that was likely due to the dishonest way he'd been living. "The job is going to be a tough one. This case, the prosecution, is going to be dragged out. Now that I'm attached to it they're delaying." Likely needing the time to work on more evidence to solidify what they currently have to battle with. It didn't matter. Amos had a serpent tongue and much like the Garden of Eden, he could charm and sway and jury to bite the apple. "Life has been a bit bleak. The distance has been tough," he directed a finger between them, "but it does feel nice to be away." Of what weighed him down in New York.

[after-witch]

AAA open requests?? i got so excited, i absolutely love your work and characterization hngnnhg <333 my request... uh... how about chrollo popping back into poor darling's life after she thought she mad a clean escape, started a new life, things were looking up, etc. whether or not you decide to do this, thank you for taking the time to read it !! have a good day <3

Title: Learn to Live [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: After Chrollo, you learn to live again. 

Word Count: 3528

Notes: yandere, mentions of abuse, chrollo is an asshole

You learn to live again.

It takes time. A lot of time. A year… two… now three.

But you learn to live again.

It doesn’t all come at once, but in steps, gradual increments that slowly allow something resembling normality to fall back into your life.

You learn to wake up in the morning and not dread opening your eyes, heart thudding in anticipation of his face being there. It took you more than a year to sleep fully through the night, body and mind no longer flinging themselves out of sleep at the slightest hint of noise.

You learn to enjoy the warmth of the sun through the windows, the sounds of birds and people; the telltale alarm-clock of a neighbor through thin apartment walls, the splatter of a baby’s bowl of cereal on the floor, no longer viewing every noise as a potential trick, a sign that your door was about to get busted open by the one person you never wanted to face again.

You learn to walk into a cafe for a lunch (your choice, your treat) and sit down to eat instead of grabbing takeout and running back to wherever you’re currently staying, slamming the locks (one, two--the third and fourth you bought from a security company) as fast as you can behind you. You  learn not to jerk your head back every time a restaurant door opens, lest he waltz in and catch you unawares.

You learn to move less, to trust more. Changing rooms--motels, hotels, rental apartments, shelters, couch shares--every three days turns into every week turns into every month and now you’ve been settled for 6 months in the same place. It’s beginning to feel like home, and not just a place to stay, not just four walls between you and him.

You’re still cautious. Of course you are. Deep down, you know you’ll never be fully rid of the anxiety, the worry that he’s going to pop back up in your life. But it’s been so long, and you know him, and you know that if he was going to find you, he surely would have done it by now.

Maybe your constant moves, your wigs and fake names, your deliberate lack of a pattern threw him off your trail and now it’s impossible to pick it up again.

Maybe his goals and ambitions have finally taken precedence over his fascination, his obsession, with you.

Maybe he’s dead. It’s unlikely, but not impossible, that someone might finally get one over on Chrollo. It’s not like he’s short on enemies. So the thought that his body is cold and you’re forever out of his reach comes to mind, now and then, producing a frustrating complex reaction deep in your gut. You hate him, you do. And yet--.

It hasn’t been easy going for you. How could it be? You managed to escape and found yourself thrust back into the world--bright and busy and terrifying--with nothing to your name, nothing but the clothes on your back and shoes on your feet, feet that ran and ran until they bled, blisters popping.

You remember the first year vividly, like a dream you can’t shake away. Endless nights with hardly any sleep, waking up every time you seemed to get comfortable, fearful, worried. Running from city to city, town to town, sure that the moment you felt relaxed he would pounce. Making money any way you could--that is to say, not always making it, but stealing it, too. Doing jobs under the table, putting up with sweat and grease and groping hands at ratty diners, places that didn’t care about references or fake IDs.

Snatching bits of life where you could; a TV show in a motel room offering 20 minutes of levity, a book pilfered from a library where you didn’t want to fill out a library card, didn’t want to leave even a hint of paper trail behind you, keeping your attention as you take buses, trains, leaving places so quickly you don’t remember their names.

And all the while, looking over your shoulder, to the side, in front of you, constantly, always, hoping against hope that he doesn’t find you. Because he can’t. If he finds you--if he finds you after this, then you know you’ll never escape from him again. You get one chance with Chrollo, one shot, one unaware moment to blindside him.  

And it was this knowledge that made living again so hard. Because if you slip… if you slip, and he finds you, then it will have all been for nothing.

But eventually, eventually, logic and reason begin to win out. It’s been a year. Then two years. And now three, almost three and a half. Three years that you’ve been free of him. His rules. His suffocating presence, hovering over you even when he was away from whatever apartment you were stashed in at the time.

You’re only human, aren’t you? And you can’t live on the run, can’t live with snatches of humanity forever. So you let yourself relax. You have to.

Your fears ease--not entirely, kept carefully cultivated along with a necessary amount of caution, embers that you won’t let go out--and eventually, eventually, something like happiness starts to replace them.

And it’s this happiness--not a floaty ethereal thing that slips through your fingers, but something more solid, something you can almost grip--which leads you to decide to put down some roots. Not permanent ones, not ones that will keep you somewhere forever. But roots that you hope will let your happiness grow bigger than a kitchen window sproutling, grow into something you can watch blossom.

So you find a town. A small town, but not too small. Quiet, but not too quiet. A town that could be a carbon-copy of so many others, a town that’s boring enough to be unassuming but not so boring that it’s a perfect place to hide. You know better than to pick those--it would be the first place he’d look.

It’s here, in the confines of this small town, that you take your first real steps back into living. It’s here that you find yourself able to stay longer, feel stronger; feel like he’s not ten steps behind you on the street, waiting to snatch you by the waist and drag you into the back of a car. It’s here that your roots flourish.

You rent an apartment and it’s cozy and small and perfect. You clip flowers from a hiking trail, tossing them into vases that someone had set up on their curb with a FREE sign; chipped and imperfect and waiting to be transformed again. Your apartment might be plain, and the hot water in your shower runs out too quickly and your next door neighbor likes to work out loudly at 6 AM, but at least it smells beautiful.

You apply for a job. One you like. Quiet and unassuming, a circulation assistant at the local library. You put books away and help old men learn to use computers to talk to their grandchildren and smile indulgently when children sign up for their first cards, scrawling their names with a slow, patience practice. You walk to a local restaurant every day for lunch, ordering the same thing so often that they have it ready to go almost right when you walk in.

You make friends. Not close ones--you can’t let anyone get that close to you, not anymore--but ones who you meet for drinks after work, who come over sometimes to watch movies and eat takeout. They share their secrets with you, and you make up secrets to share with them. It’s a nice sort of companionship, albeit one that makes you ache for your friends from before, friends you can never contact again, no matter how long it’s been since you escaped. You won’t ever risk it--risk them.

You’re even thinking about taking a class at the local community center. A night class, nothing fancy. They offer a surprising amount of programs, many of them aimed at retirees and parents whose children have flown the nest, looking for something to occupy their evenings or help them find a new career path. Language classes and hobby classes and skill training.

You’ve been thinking about signing up for a medical transcription class, something you can use to make extra money on the side. It would be nice to afford newer clothes, stuff that isn’t from the thrift shop, outdated and worn but comfy enough. Of course, you’ll have to save up to pay for the class’s hefty fee first--$1,000.

It’s the transcription course and the dancing numbers that are on your mind when something happens that causes those well-kept embers of fear to flare up, dancing sparks on your skin.

You’re back from lunch, the taste of your regular order (salad, fries, chocolate milkshake) still on your lips. You brought the community center’s class catalog to lunch and had browsed through it as you ate, dipped your fries in your shake, nibbled on tomatoes and cucumbers.

When you got back to the library, it was quiet--no surprise, the most bustle in the day typically happened before lunch, when the children’s story time brought in parents and nannies with sleep-deprived eyes, eager (and some not-so-eager) children in tow. Sometimes older people came in after lunchtime, egg salad and coffee on their breath, asking you to help them on the computer. Occasionally, a college student, home for the semester, walking the book stacks with looks that you thought were nostalgia

But today, after lunch, nobody else is in the library except yourself and the staff busy in the back, sorting through the drop-box piles, checking for damage, repairing books stained with drinks or drawn-in by children with access to too many crayons.

So to say you are surprised by the appearance of an elegantly-dressed woman, heels tapping on the dingy carpet, would be an understatement.

She’s dressed up, that’s for certain--far too dressy to be waltzing into the library. A deep red dress clings to her body, trailing down past her knees, a large slit in the side offering a glimpse of her thigh. Her hair is styled, but a bit messy, tousled, trailing behind her shoulders and down her back. Her lipstick is ever-so-smeared and you try not to stare. You wonder if she’s an actress, maybe, or--well, it’s not your place to judge, and you shove the thoughts aside.

“Can I help you?” you ask, voice an octave or two higher, customer-service-mode.

She waits a few moments before answering, as if she’s not sure exactly what she’s doing here, either.

“Oh, yes. I’m looking for books on relationships. You know,” she continues, leaning across the reference desk, voice lower and breath tinged with wine and a morning without mouthwash, “relationship… advice.” Her cadence seems off and there’s something odd, something wrong, but you can’t quite pin it down. She seems drunk, almost.

You smile. You hope it doesn’t seem forced. Your mind reels for a moment, running down the classification system drummed into your head after you landed the job.

“Relationship help is probably going to be in the 305s or 306s. You might find some in the 150s, too.” You pause. “But if you need any more help, please let me know and I’ll go check the catalog.”

She leans back, straightening, seeming almost doll-like in her movements.

“Thank you,” she says, smiling, showing her teeth, the smear of her lipstick. She turns and starts walking away towards the shelves, and you can’t help but notice she’s limping a little. Maybe she’s not drunk--maybe she’s…

You make a mental note to check on her in a bit, look her over again. Maybe you missed some signs that she needs help. Bruising? Shaking? Maybe she got in a fight with her boyfriend last night and he roughed her up and she’s trying to find ways to fix him. Maybe not, maybe you’re just looking for signs of things that aren’t there, an overactive imagination spurned on by your own history. But it’s better to be safe than sorry. Better to be wrong and overreacting than right and passive.

You find that you don’t want to wait, actually, so you stick your cheery “Be Right Back!” sign on your desk and get up, slowly making your way towards the stacks where the woman wandered off.

You’ll just take a look, you think, just to see if there are signs of bruises that you can ask about. You imagine, briefly, quickly, in a rush: asking her if she’s all right, her tearing up, you offering her your shoulder and directing her to a private room and asking if she is in danger and if she needs to call the police and if she has a safe place to stay.

You don’t know why you imagine all this so suddenly. Maybe the nurturing of your own freedom makes you more eager to help others.

Maybe you just want to imagine doing something with your life that isn’t so damn passive.

You’ve been running for so long, and now that you’re building a life for yourself, why not help others? Why not make a difference, instead of being a ghost, a shadow, a diner waitress one night and a thief the next morning and a box hauler the next afternoon? Always fading into the background, always changing your looks, afraid, terrified, that someone will recognize you and point the way. Point Chrollo right toward you.

But now, here, in this town, you can be something more than a wisp. You can be someone. You can be that nice library worker who notices when kids need help finding their parents, when an elderly person isn’t getting enough to eat, when a woman comes into the library with suspicious bruises and a need for relationship advice. You can be someone.

So you weave your way into the stacks, conscious of being quiet, of not seeming like you’re following her.  You want her to be comfortable with you. You catch a glimpse of her hair, of her body bent over, scanning the books.

And then a voice comes from behind you.

“You always were a soft one, weren’t you?”

You always thought you’d run, when he found you. You thought you’d grab the nearest heavy object and chunk it directly into his face and run as fast as you could, tearing through doors and crowds to find an escape route.

Instead you are frozen to the spot. Incapable of moving. Incapable of doing anything but shaking, a cold, horrible terror shooting through you as your hear his footsteps getting closer. They seem to sound in slow motion, everything feels slow, the air around you stagnant as his hands wrap around your waist, as his chin dips to rest on the top of your head.

Despite the years, his touch is still so familiar. Despite the years, his cologne sparks memories.

The woman from earlier steps into view, her movements now more erratic than before. You hear Chrollo tapping on something, and she drops to the ground.

Ah. There’s antenna sticking out of the back of her neck.

“Is she--” you begin, stopping yourself when you realize you don’t want to know the answer.

He hums, not answering your question.

You suppose it doesn’t matter. You won’t be around long enough in this town to find out if she’s okay, or if the little girl who picked out a new book series enjoyed them, or if you’d ever be able to save up the money for the transcription course. You’re not going to take a night class or eat your lunch at the cafe or walk along the hiking trail, looking for new flowers. All that is over. You learned to live again and it didn’t even matter. It didn’t even matter.

Sweat trickles down your back, and you start to feel hyper-aware of it all. The way his arms are wrapped around you, solid and constricting. The way his breath passes over your head, gentle and calm, unlike your own increasingly erratic breathing. The way his grip is pressing you against his back, unrelentingly close.

You feel sapped of energy when he lets go, unable to move as he steps around, helpless to avoid it when his hand grips your chin and forces you to look up--to look at him.

His gaze is unreadable, as  it always was. That much hasn’t changed.

“You’ve had your… fun,” he says, the last word coming out so condescending that you can’t help but feel hurt. “But it’s time to end this now. We’re going back.”

Your throat feels dry and your voice croaks a little when you speak, a spark of defiance running through the coldness that kept you still earlier.

“How long have you known? How did you find me?”

Did you make a mistake? When did you make it? You want to know--you have to know. Was it someone else who gave him the lead, or did you leave a breadcrumb somewhere, or maybe a host of breadcrumbs that led him here, led him to you. You were being smart about it, you really were. So how? 

He keeps your chin in his hand as he tilts your face to one side, then the other. Examining you like you were a pet, a project, a rat in a lab to be studied and written about.

“I see.” He gives a soft smile and the sight of it makes your stomach twist. “You think knowing when I found out will make you feel better about all this.” He drops his hand, but you keep your chin up at his gaze as he shoves his hands in his pockets, the smile he’s bearing now smug and satisfied. 

“Suffice to say that I’ve kept up with you for some time. You’re quite the little adventurer, when you need to be. It’s something I admire about you.”

His smile, the banter, all of it sparks memories that gives you back something inside you. The version of you that you imagined would get the hell out of dodge the moment you saw him again.

“Just leave me alone,” you say, practically spitting. “Just--just fuck off and leave me alone. I’m happy here.”

He purses his lips.

“Don’t be so stubborn, dear. I can still kill her, you know.” He jerks his head towards the woman on the floor, and you can now see that her chest is rising and falling. “Or the others working in the back.” He brings a hand out of his pocket, holding his chin in a practiced gesture of thought. “Perhaps we can visit that diner you were at for lunch. Or your friends. What’s her name, the one who always has one drink too many when you go out?”

He’ll kill them. Of course he will. He’s told you as much before. Only know it’s a new set of people, people you like, people you imagined liking you. People you wanted to live with, if only for a short time. But he’ll kill them, and it will be your fault. He’s told you that before, too. That anything he does is up to you. It’s up to you if he takes you outside, if he lets you eat at restaurants, if he lets you visit museums and gardens and shopping malls with him. It’s up to you if he kills your friends and family, or if they stay safe and sound.

It’s up to you if you walk out of this library, out of his town, with blood on your hands.

You feel your entire body sag in defeat, deflating energy seeping into the floor. You stare behind him, at a bookshelf. Someone clearly ignored the sign telling patrons to put books on the cart, not the shelf, and they put it back in the wrong spot. You reach out, side stepping him, ignoring the curious look on his face as you fix the patron’s mistake.

You close your eyes when it’s done, shutting out the sight of the books you’ll never touch, never rearrange, again.

“What do you want me to do?”

 You feel his touch, his hand around your shoulder, and that’s answer enough. You’re going with him. You’re going back with him, wherever that means. An apartment or penthouse or hotel. And you’re never going to leave, because like hell he’ll give you this opportunity again. You slipped, you slipped and you’re stuck.

“There’s my smart girl,” he says.

You don’t feel smart anymore.

He squeezes your shoulder before wrapping his arm around it, guiding you away from the stack, away from the unconscious woman on the floor. Towards the entrance of the library, every step feeling like lead, like dragging your legs through water. You can see a nondescript car waiting at the front entrance, engine on. You dread the idea of getting inside. You dread the idea of hearing the door slam, of knowing Chrollo will be there every step of the way. 

You glance back at the reference desk as you’re lead out the door. You never had time to take down the sign.

Be Right Back!

[porcelaindoll-exe]

☇ VENUS — E.M.

— pairing ；Eddie Munson x Ex!Fem!Reader

— summary ；He thought you'd never want to get together again, yet here you were, kissing him under the moon.

— warnings ；Season 4 spoilers, Making out, Eddie having a tantrum, me not knowing about what stars and planets you can see at night.

— A/N ；I'm so sorry for the lack of content from me these past weeks! Exams are upon me and I caught covid, so that was something! I hope this makes up for my disappearance! Thank you all so much for all the love and support on my other fanfics and for almost 800 followers!! That's insane! Thank you!!! <333

— word count ；3.6K

Late night cuddles, in Eddie's opinion, were the best thing to ever exist.

The dim light of the moon shining through his dirty curtains onto your entangled bodies; your lips roaming his face and neck in a way that would make him let out soft whimpers.

And then you'd fall asleep, your body going limp in his arms as he took over your job and kissed your sleepy face, smiling in delight as your nose scrunched up.

He'd stay like that for a few hours before falling asleep himself, too busy revelling in the warmth and comfort of your body to focus on getting rest.

It had been moments like those that made him feel loved and safe, in a way no one but you could provide.

Fuck, how he wished you could do that again.

That's all he needed right then, you in his arms and your lips on his skin, soothing him with your loving whispers.

Yet here he was, eating plain cereal while watching TV, his face and full name plastered all over every network for anyone to see. The worst thing was that they had finally been given permission to disclose Chrissy's details as well, so he was forced to listen as they described the way her body was found over and over; and if it wasn't enough, he was horrified to see that one network had been allowed to show a picture of her face, his chest tightening at the sight of her school photo, the guilt neverending.

He was broken from his daze as the door to the boathouse opened, his hands instantly finding the broken bottle he had started using as a makeshift weapon, pointing it at whoever the assailant was.

The metalhead was relieved to find that it wasn't the police or whoever else was on his trail, but the little group that had taken him under their wing during this fiasco.

"Delivery service!"

Your voice was an instant relief to him, soothing any worries he had prior, smiling brightly at you as you approached with two plastic bags, mouth watering instantly at the prospect of actual food and not stale cereal.

He hadn't noticed your clothes until you moved from behind Robin, his eyes widening at the sight of the bright pink and turquoise outfit you were sporting, trying his best to keep his mouth from falling open.

"Wh- What's with that, cupcake?"

You groaned at his nickname, plopping down next to him and starting to unpack, handing him a paper coffee cup with a donut wrapped cutely in a pink tissue, making him snort.

"I didn't have time to change, they literally kidnapped me before I could even open the diner... I left my boss there all alone."

You complained as you leaned back on the dirty walls, taking a small bite out of one of the donuts that were smushed together in one of the white bags, completely missing Eddie's face of astonishment as he took in the information.

"You got a job?"

You turned to look at him with an expression verbatim to a deer's in headlights, nodding your head before swallowing down the jam donut, pointing to a bag next to you that contained what Eddie could identify as roller skates.

"Y-Yeah! I, uh, I didn't tell you since, well-"

"I'm not your boyfriend anymore."

Anyone else would have brushed off the slight twinge of pain in Eddie's voice, but you could instantly tell from the way his eyes darted away from you and his shoulders slumped slightly that he was disappointed.

"I uhm, I drew something on your coffee." You pointed out before he tore the lid off the cup, his face brightening before he looked down at the froth, his smile slightly faltering at the sight of the messed up milk drawing of what he assumed was Eddie the Head.

"W... Wow! Haha, that- that looks-"

"Shit?" You offered with a small smile, making him reluctantly agree, bringing up the caffeinated drink to his lips and blowing, messing up the froth even more.

"Yeah-"

"I volunteered to stay with you."

You suddenly blurted out, your fingers gripping a donut and making the jam run down your nails, the sudden proclamation making Eddie frown, putting down his assortment of food and drink.

"What?"

"Everyone else is going on... That Vecna mission. I didn't want to leave you here alone. You've... Been through enough." Eddie's breath hitched as soon as your hand moved to rest over his, nodding slowly as he moved to intertwine your fingers together, your soft skin as warm and comforting as he remembered.

"You didn't have to do that."

He whispered softly, the lack of silly nicknames in his sentence indicating that he was serious, his features softening as he watched you with a dumbstruck expression.

"I did. I couldn't just leave you alone. I stopped by my house to get some blankets and shit before my shift, I was planning on visiting you before these losers picked me up."

His heart could have sung at your words.

You had actually intended to come? On your own accord?

He hadn't thought much of it when he had called you the other night, disclosing his place of hiding in case you could come over, wanting you to know where to look in case anything happened, but he hadn't expected for you to actually come.

"Plus, by the looks of it... You haven't gotten any sleep. You'll need someone to stay up with you, right?"

That signature goofy smile of his spread over his face at your proposition, his head cocking to a side as he took your figure in, his hand leaving yours so it could come up to wipe a few crumbs off your chin; trying to ignore the piercing gaze he was receiving from Steve from the other side of the room.

"Yeah. Thank you."

Even if he wouldn't admit it out loud, you were right.

He hadn't been able to catch a single wink of sleep ever since he had started to crash at Rick's place. Not that the provisional bed he had made in the corner of the room wasn't comfortable to sleep in, he just couldn't close his eyes without replaying Chrissy's death over and over in his mind.

The silence didn't help either, it made him vulnerable to any noise that suddenly cut through it, the simple sound of the boat rocking against the water enough to make him scream.

Although he was sure you wouldn't be able to fix his now ruined sleep schedule, he knew that simply having you there during the night would be greater than any sleeping medication he could afford.

"You sure you want to stay? We're going to crash at Nancy's, I'm sure she wouldn't mind an extra person."

Steve's voice interrupted Eddie's train of thought as he turned to look at you both, the hand that tightly squeezed your shoulder making him see green almost immediately, the sight of the boy who had teased him mercilessly during middle school touching you enough to set him off on a rampage.

To make it worse, you raised your own hand and took his, smiling softly at him as you nodded. "I'm sure. I brought blankets and supplies, I'll survive. You also forget I'm skilled in judo. I could easily flip you into a chokehold right this second!" You replied cheerfully, although your tight grip on his hand and your words didn't match up with the tone that you spoke them with.

Steve bit the inside of his cheek, looking at Eddie then back at you, nodding before finally releasing the death grip he seemed to have had on your shoulder. "Keep the walkie talkie thingy on, yeah? I'll check up on you every now and then."

You nodded, your gaze on him lingering a bit longer than Eddie thought necessary, but he didn't say a word until Steve had packed up and started his car, leaving you both alone.

"Didn't think I'd ever see the day where you'd be under Harrington's protection." Eddie mumbled as he threw himself on the tarp-covered boat, groaning as the wood that served as a seat dug into his back, adjusting until he found a comfortable position.

"He's really nice now that he's not... Y'know. Popular." You replied as you pulled the boat over to your side, rolling your eyes once you met his flirty gaze, that smile of his enough to drive you up the wall. "He gives me a ride to the diner every morning with Robin."

You explained as you stepped into the wooden rowing boat, Eddie finally noticing that you had no footwear on except for your tights, instantly extending his hands to you to help you settle down, yet as the boat moved (as one does), you ended up falling onto your ex's chest with your fingers intertwined with his.

You groaned into his hellfire shirt, his laughter making his muscles flex beneath the material, a miniscule part of you wishing you could see his body without it.

"It's not funny! You made me fall, asshole!"

Eddie raised his hands up in mock surrender, his smile only widening more as you attempted to punch him on his chest, only furthering his amusement.

"I did no such thing! I was trying to help you, Ms. L/N."

He said in a shocked voice, his hands finding yours as he helped you sit down on the other side of the boat, not wanting to cause it to flip over, already having a slight idea on how that would end.

"Asshole."

You repeated, getting yourself comfortable on the tarp as you looked around the spacious shed, the packets and wrappers that remained from Eddie's feast strewn about the floor.

"I was scared shitless when you called me the other night." You suddenly said, leaning back on the wood and hitting his thigh with your foot; a whine leaving his lips as he grabbed it, absentmindedly starting to massage it. "I was about to abandon my mom and her new boyfriend to come to you. You had me worried, dumbass."

Although your words were meant to be mean, Eddie couldn't help but feel thrilled at the thought that you still cared for him in the way he cared for you.

He couldn't blame you, if you had called him in the middle of the night crying and sobbing about a cheerleader's traumatic death, he would have been pretty worried as well.

"I'm surprised you didn't turn me in to the pigs. Isn't your old man part of the force?" He said, leaning over to grab your other foot and bring it over to his lap, letting your rest your legs' weight on him.

"Ugh, he used to be. Started drinking after mom left him, I think they demoted him after a, uh, incident." You mumbled, remembering clear as day when your father had attempted to shoot your mother's new fling. "Even still, I wouldn't turn you in. When you called, I could tell by your voice that you hadn't done anything wrong. I know you're not capable of murder, Eds. You're too much of a softie for that."

You teased, your foot coming up to hit his jaw playfully, his hand pulling them back down to resume his badly given massage.

"You know me too well, toots." He hummed with a smile as he watched you lean back, being able to see the stars from the position you were in at the moment, your hand coming up to trace one of the familiar constellations in the sky.

"Back in town you can barely see them... Here they're... So clear. And beautiful." You murmured as you pinpointed mars with your pointer finger, waving your free hand around to catch Eddie's attention.

"Come lie down, I want you to see- Ah!"

You let out an embarrassing cry as the boat started moving, your hands coming down to grab onto the sides before hearing Eddie's stifled giggles, his own hands preoccupied in using the oars to push you out a few feet into the lake.

The boat trembled beneath Eddie as he got up, not having waited for it to stop fully moving before pulling himself up, walking over to you and sitting down next to you, stretching his legs so that he was now in the same position as you; lying down and staring up at the sky.

"You reckon we can see Neptune from here?" He said excitedly as he turned his head to look at you, palms growing sweaty and mouth going dry at the sight of you in the pale moonlight, a smile on your lips as you shook your head.

"No, but we can see Venus tonight. Here." Your hand came up to point at something in the night sky, Eddie closing an eye and scooching further towards you to try and determine exactly where you were pointing at.

"Here."

You took his arm, his cheeks flushing up at the proximity as you moved it around until he was pointing directly at a star that was shining slightly brighter than the others around it, making an 'o' shape with his mouth as he realised that was it, and he wouldn't get to see an actual planet.

"You see it, right?"

His head turned to look at you, a smile framing his lips as he nodded, letting out a soft "Yes.", before continuing. "It's beautiful."

You nodded in agreement, not realising that he wasn't actually paying attention to the stars but gazing at you lovingly, your soft touch and words enough to get him to cloud nine.

It seemed that all words failed him as soon as you returned his stare, gawking at you like a fish out of water, waiting for something, anything, to happen.

"Edd-"

"Can I kiss you?" He asked breathlessly, watching your expression morph from confusion into shock... Into... Happiness?

Before he could try and make out anymore emotions, he was interrupted by your equally as breathless voice, the slow 'yes' that left your plump lips enough confirmation for him.

He leaned in as he had many times before, searching for any hint of doubt on your face for a split second before finally closing the space between you, his chapped lips crashing onto yours in a way that only he could manage.

His hands instantly found your waist, pulling you closer so that your legs were tangled together, your own hands finding their spot in his hair as you continued the kiss, pouring every emotion you had had in the past few days into it.

The fear of losing him, the slight twinge of jealousy that filled your chest when you had first seen him with Chrissy, the anger at the police for even suspecting your sweet Eddie for something you knew he would never have the stomach for... Everything. You put everything into that kiss.

And Eddie could tell.

He responded with equal passion, his hands roaming your body and touching you in all of your favourite places, the way his finger pads pressed against your most sensitive spots forcing soft whimpers to come out.

"Never thought I'd make out with you on a boat." Eddie whispered against your lips as you parted to regain your breath, said boat rocking beneath you dangerously, yet in the spur of the moment, neither of you could care less.

"Mm..."

You made a soft sound that could have been interpreted as a whimper since his hands were still resting comfortably on your ass, squeezing and massaging the plush flesh in his palms.

"Eds..."

"Unless you want me to take a well deserved bath, I suggest we-" He moved away from the edge with a grunt, but was interrupted by the same thing he was trying to warn you about, the simple movement causing a series of events that would end with you both soaked.

The boat finally turned turtle thanks to your position, your shocked face being the last thing Eddie fully saw before being submerged in the cold water, the panic instantly being replaced by relief as his feet touched the ground, boosting himself to reach the surface, gasping and coughing once he felt the contact of the boat's wet wood.

He caught his breath for a bit, until he realised that you hadn't come up yet, panic filling his veins as he looked around the pitch black water, his heart hammering against his ribcage hard enough to rip through his chest; trying to look for any sign of movement beneath the lake that would indicate him of you.

The breath of relief that escaped him as he saw your hand suddenly emerge and grab onto the boat left him breathless, swimming over and grabbing you by the waist, holding you flush against him as you gasped and spluttered out any water that remained within your lungs.

"Fuck, you scared me." He mumbled against your hair as he pulled you closer, rubbing a hand up and down your back in an attempt to calm you.

Once he was sure you were okay, he moved onto the boat, grabbing it by the railing and doing his best to flip it back over, his muscles flexing and sticking to his wet shirt, leaving no room for imagination to whoever could be looking. Which in this case, was you.

As soon as the boat was back in position, Eddie helped you climb up, pulling the tarp aside to make sure you wouldn't have to sit down on wet plastic; about to pull himself on as well before he registered what was missing.

"The oars!"

He shouted to himself, realising that they were probably at the bottom of the lake by now, letting out another high pitched sound of annoyance before he basically ripped his shirt off and threw it at you, the object of clothing hitting you straight in the face.

"Eddie, it's not far, we ca-"

"Shut up!" He cried before gasping, submerging himself in the water and swimming down to the bottom, leaving you confused at the top with his wet shirt in your hands.

You'd be lying if you said that the sight of him completely unhinged, mid-tantrum, wet and topless didn't make you want to scream, your face going red at the memory of how his muscles had flexed when he was pushing the boat.

It took a few more seconds of waiting before he reappeared, throwing the wooden oars onto your lap and gasping for air, not waiting to regain his breath before pulling himself onto the boat, landing straight on your thighs with a groan.

"You really didn't have to, Eddie... We could have swam-"

"Let me have this."

He groaned, his voice muffled from the way he had buried his face into your soft thighs, wet his hair leaving droplets of water rolling down your skin.

He soon found himself rowing you both back to the boathouse, holding your hand as you stepped onto the wooden floors before following you, your wet bodies leaving damp stains behind you with every step you took.

Eddie collapsed onto the pile of blankets he had started calling a bed, grunting once he felt your weight hit him, your arms wrapping around his waist as your chest pressed against his back; peppering kisses across his nape.

You really didn't know why you had acted out on such a bold thought, you didn't even know if he was okay with you doing such a thing, but going by the events that had transpired on that damn boat half an hour ago, you assumed he'd be okay with it.

And judging by his reaction to your following words, he was more than happy to accept you once again.

"You wanna cuddle?"

He turned around almost instantly, his arms finding their place around your waist and pulling you both down to the mess of soft blankets, feeling his heart race as you returned his ministrations with soft kisses along his jawline, just like you used to do.

His grip tightened around you once he felt you start to move, getting comfortable so that you were both lying down, his head snuggled into your chest while quivering breaths left his lips as he relished in your presence, the fact that you were actually there with him and not in his imagination making almost everything better.

This. This is what Eddie had been missing.

Your fingers massaging his scalp and running through his hair were starting to lull him to sleep, his energy finally wearing off and leaving him sluggish and exhausted, wanting nothing more than to close his eyes and rest, but your whispers pulled him out of it.

"I missed you."

His heart practically stopped.

"I missed you too." He said without waiting a beat, looking up at you with those puppy dog eyes of his, smiling brightly as you leaned down to kiss his forehead. "So fucking much. You don't know how hard it's been without you..."

He confessed, his thumbs rubbing soft circles over your waist to try to convey all the love and adoration he felt towards you through a simple action.

"Hey, don't... Don't think of that now, okay? I'm here. That's all that matters."

That's all that mattered. Eddie couldn't agree more.

He snuggled his face further into your chest, pulling a blanket over you both and letting your soft ministrations send him to sleep, his eyes slowly fluttering closed as he muttered a final "Thank you." before falling asleep.

You smiled softly, adjusting yourself so you had his head tucked beneath your chin, his warm breath fanning against your neck and sending tingles down your spine.

You didn't even react as your nose started to bleed, too focused on the boy in your arms to care about anything else at the moment.

"Of course, Eddie. Anything for you."

[m0srael]

I love the way you worldbuild and play with creative magic systems in fantastical ways! I'd love to see the way you'd write a fic where some mundane typically Muggle activity is turned wizarding, like house cleaning or magical television broadcasting/recording...

Oh, Starry, thank you!! I do love a bit of complex magical theory 😈. This ask immediately conjured a very specific image for me. One of my favorite fics of all time is The Man Who Lived by sebastianL. I'm so enamored with their characterization of Draco, and talk about world-building!! There is so much to love about that story.

I'm imagining a TMWL-style Draco (aggressively repentant, a bit self-loathing, messy, complicated, endearing, and human) who makes the hard decision to cut all ties with the Wizarding World and everything he's ever known and found comfort in.

He moves to a big, new city and settles in some run-of-the-mill Muggle neighborhood. Maybe he has a tiny, dingy flat on the top floor of a multi-story walk-up that he loves with his whole heart, despite the cockroaches and leaking pipes and lack of central heat and air.

He's young when he leaves Wizarding Britain, maybe he's just a year or two past the War and the trials, and he'd barely gotten his feet under himself in the world he knew--starting over now feels a bit like learning to walk and talk again, and so (a bit intentionally, a bit subconsciously) he seeks comfort in "childish" things. He surrounds himself with softness, color, ease, and whimsy in a way that was never possible for him before now.

His flat is painted in pastel hues of blue, pink, and green. He finds a discarded neon sign on the side of the road, an ad for a beer brand that he's never even heard of, and hangs it on his living room wall so the room is constantly bathed in bright, colorful light. He starts collecting crocheted blankets and quilts from the local flea market and teaches himself (more or less) how to reupholster furniture so he can cover up the horrendous brown of his second-hand couch with something orange and green and loud and floral.

On one of his first nights in the city--before he learned about mugging and the risk of walking around alone at night with headphones in--he decides to go for a long stroll. He starts at his apartment building's front door and just goes--up and down streets, around blocks, over bridges, and down alleyways. Most of the shops are closed this late at night, but occasionally he passes a crowded pub or a twenty-four-hour diner with a handful of tired-looking people inside.

When he finally decides he's walked far enough and turns back in the general direction of home, something catches his eye. Bright light pours out of a storefront In the middle of the block opposite him. All the shops around it are dark and shuttered, their grates pulled down and locked for the night. Something about the place draws him closer--maybe it's the warmth of the yellow light pooling on the wet pavement, maybe it's the fact that the door is propped wide open so that anyone could wander in, maybe it's the red and blue 'open' sign flickering in the window. he steps right into the middle of the empty road and then up onto the curb on the other side.

And he finds that it's a shop full of Muggle laundry machines. Just a small, one-room establishment lined with washing machines and dryers, bisected by a long, low table. There's a row of bucket seats situated along the front window, a washed-out rainbow of molded plastic. In the back corner, a woman bends over a wheeled basket full of clothes and pulls things out, one at a time, to sort them into piles on the table. When Draco steps through the door and walks closer, he sees that there's a tiny child curled up in the basket asleep.

The woman eyes him suspiciously as he walks slowly, reverently up one side of the space, around the back, and down the other, trailing a hand over the top of the machines. He stops at the change machine by the front door. It takes him a minute to figure out how the thing works, but eventually, he pulls out a bill from his wallet and lets it be sucked into the little slot on the front. He almost claps his hands when the machine spits out a pile of shiny, clanking coins in exchange. And they say Muggles don't have magic.

It's a whole shop dedicated to washing. A place you can go just to launder your things when they're dirty. A crude little space carved out of the face of the city dedicated to coming clean, washing away dirt and grime and removing stains. Come in tainted, marked, and leave fresh and new.

What will these Muggles think of next? He hadn't realized that everyone's home didn't come equipped with a clunky, rattling washing machine in a dark, dank basement--that's how his apartment building is, so why wouldn't everyone else's be the same? But that must not be the case, because here he is in this place--a laundry store nestled between a smoke shop and a pizza place.

There's even a television affixed to the wall in one corner showing one of Draco's (new) favorite Muggle films. He can't afford cable (and, honestly, doesn't really understand it), but he did rescue a discarded telly from the sidewalk and managed to tune it into a single fuzzy black-and-white channel. He continues to ignore the woman's sidelong glances as he sinks into one of the plastic chairs and mouths along with the dialogue.

And he is delighted. It's just the kind of weird and wonderful that has brought him so much joy in his new life.

Later, when Draco finally opens his own laundromat, he doesn't just launder clothing. He'll clean anything you have that needs a good wash--he is a wizard, after all, so nothing is out of his capability.

His neighbors flock to his little establishment because nowhere in the city does so good a job. The inside is decorated like a movie-theater-arcade-bubble-gum-oasis and it's a fun place to be. And the guy who runs it? He makes his own washing soap and stain remover that works better than anything you'll find in the grocery store. He can wash, dry, fluff, and fold your laundry faster than you can blink. No one knows how he does it, but all his customers are so satisfied they don't even think to ask.

And if a certain dark-haired, green-eyed man convinces Draco to put in a back door that opens right onto the Wizarding neighborhood (it'll double, triple!, the profits; more business is good, Draco; I can handle that side of things if it makes you uncomfortable but I will never let anyone hurt you, ever again), then so be it.

[if I ever wrote this, you'd be getting way too much detail about how Draco reconciles with his magic and uses it in fun and interesting ways] Thanks for indulging me, friend!

I wish you would write a fic where...

[untiltheendoftime]

Summary: Staring at a stranger leaves you with an empty plate of fries and a heart filled with the slightest bit of love.

gif by @stevenrogered

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: A normal amount of swearing, other than that it's pure fluff.

Writers note: This is for @celestialbarnes "4k writing challenge"

Reblogs, likes and your thoughts are so much appreciated. Feel free to point out any errors.

    ─── ☪ ･ ☪ ･ ☪ ･ ☪ ･ ☪ ───

Can I steal your fries?

You had found yourself in a small diner, after another terrible date, with a large portion of fries in front you. Perhaps alcohol would've been more helpful to forget the whole day, but sadly your work schedule didn't allow you to get drunk and risk a hangover.

As soon as you sat down, you deleted the dating app off your phone, earning an amused look from the stranger in the booth in front of you when you had muttered something along the lines of "Fuck this shit." and "Might as well start referring to myself as a trash can if trash is all I attract."

You could feel the warmth of a blush rising on your cheeks when you heard the stranger chuckle and you were sure that you looked exactly like the ketchup on your fries. Why did you have to blush so easily? Fuck.

Unfortunately he was quite handsome, which didn't help your ketchup-face problem at all. His hair was rather short, though it looked like he was growing it out, and he gave off cozy vibes with the navy blue hoodie he was wearing and the steaming cup of coffee in his hands. He was far more than quite handsome. It was then that you noticed that his eyes, unfairly blue like the sky on a perfect summer day, were focused on you.

He fully caught you staring at him. Damn it.

In order to hide your embarrassment, you quickly adverted your eyes to the plate in front of you. Suddenly the fries were very interesting.

The sound of footsteps appeared and just when you had thought that you creepingly staring made the stranger leave, a muscular body came in sight and you were starting to feel anxious.

Thinking that apologizing was the best way to get over with this as soon as possible, you tried to come up with an excuse "Look, I'm sorry for staring. I jus-" you started bubbling, but he quickly interrupted you.

"Wouldn't have caught you staring at me if I wasn't staring as well, would I?" he said, his voice surprisingly sweet and when you had gathered up enough courage to look up at him, you were welcomed with a breathtaking smile.

Without any hesitation, he sat down in front of you and the anxious feeling quickly washed away, being replaced with irritation instead. Sure, he didn't look bad, but he was a stranger after all.

You eyed him suspiciously and he did the same, obviously mocking you. "I don't want to sound rude but I believe your coffee wants your attention more than me" you said, actually not really bothering to sound polite.

"Does sound rude to me, doll."

He probably used the nickname a lot, however it didn't stop you from feeling flattered. Not wanting to acknowledge it, and turning red again, you decided to keep your mouth shut.

The silence was starting to feel uncomfortable and from the way his brows slightly furrowed with thought, you could tell that he didn't want the conversation to end so soon.

"You're not here for the first time and I actually wanted to talk to you for a while." he admitted, "Even tried to get your attention, but all you did was stare into your phone and yeah" a faint blush crept up on his cheeks.

It took you a solid minute to process his words. Yes, you were a frequent customer, most of the times visiting after another date went downhill and sometimes you would google dating advice and gag at all the bullshit everyone wrote. You didn't exactly hate being single, though having someone to come home to wasn't the worst thought you could think of. The more dates went wrong, the more you and your family, especially them, began to wonder what was wrong with you.

"Always love a stranger watching me" you joked and instantly grimace at how badly you had worded it. That's not what you meant.

His laughter filled your ears and it was full of warmth and so contagious, you had to laugh as well.

After the laughter had died down, he cleared his throat and extendended his right hand to you "I'm Bucky" he softly said and while shaking it, the contact sending slight shivers down your spine, you tell him your name.

"Now that we know each others names, can I steal some of your fries?" Bucky asked, not waiting for an answer as he reached for your plate.

"No" you chuckled out, playfully swatting his hand away, and he glared at you for a second before dramatically putting the hand on his chest, claiming that you've really hurt his feelings and it might take decades to mend the pain in his heart.

The conversation between the two of you flowed nicely. He told you about his visits to different countries and you would ask questions about how the people were and if the food tasted good, the latter truthfully answered with a "I usually went for cheeseburgers due to the lack of time."

You had told Bucky how much you despise going on dates now because your family would pressure you, saying that the problem has to be you since your ex shortly found a significant other after the break up.

Bucky's jaw tightened at that and he voiced out how fucking rude your family was, wondering if they don't have anything else to do than rubbing their noses in your love life. Seeing that he has was way more understanding than your own family, empathy had always been something all of them undoubtedly lacked off, made you even more fond of the handsome stranger and you felt comfortable sharing personal pieces of your life with him as hours passed by.

Midway through your story you paused to look at your plate, realizing that it was almost empty now and the only reason why he didn't stop your rambling was because it allowed him to eat your fries.

"Stop taking my fries." you muttered out, causing him to grin.

"What are you gonna do about it?" he questioned, voice heavenly charming as he suggestively wiggled his eyebrows at you.

Perhaps this was the most cliché thing to do, but the look he gave you when you threw a few fries at his face was something you wish you would've gotten a picture of. His eyes were still slightly widened in shock when he, not so attractively, shoved all of the fries in his mouth, making you laugh at his childish behavior.

"I got to eat the fries. Seems like I won, sweetheart." he proudly declared.

Banters and stories later, your eyes caught a glimpse of the clock on your phone and you frown when it reads two a.m

You jolted up from your seat, calling out an apology to the old waitress who seemed to be startled by the sudden change of energy. "I do enjoy talking to you, but my shift starts in six hours." you said, your voice laced with a hint of sadness.

Bucky stood up as well and reached for your phone that was still lying on the table. He handed it you, signaling for you to unlock it, and when he had access to it, he quickly typed in his number and pressed the saving button. A cheekish smile on his lips when he puts it in your grasp again and you can't help but beam at him, too.

He held his hands up in defense, "Figured you need my number after you have deleted all the datings apps."

You rolled your eyes in response and, who knows where the confidence boost came from, step closer to him. "Goodnight" you murmured, pressing a light kiss to his cheek and they instantly heat up, which made him look adorable. Maybe you had found someone who blushes just as easily as you.

Once you had entered the front door of your apartment, your phone gave off a noise, signaling that you had received a message. A quick glance at the screen told you that it was Bucky asking if you came home alright. He definitely is a gentleman. Just when you were about to answer him, another text popped up. You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop you from grinning like a lovestruck teenager while reading it.

Bucky:

When will you take me out?

Sincerely, your trash

    ─── ☪ ･ ☪ ･ ☪ ･ ☪ ･ ☪ ───

First story on here. Hopefully it's not that bad? I would absolutely love to hear some feedback. Thank you for reading everything ♡

[tinyjeanmarco]

modern!porco x reader

okay, so, since i absolutely adore porco, i’m gonna write a little fluff that popped into my head. i just believe in porco supremacy so expect a lot of porco fluff from me lolol. but yeah! here goes modern!porco x reader where they had a little date planned, but reader has been overworking themselves with cramming for finals, so they fall asleep when the two were supposed to be going out! ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ i uhm, think my writing needs work so i apologize if this isn’t the very best! <3

modern!porco x gn!reader

warnings: none

wc: 1,587 words

the date you had planned with your boyfriend was in two hours. that’s plenty of time to cram a little more before getting ready, plus you’re really behind as it is.

if you were honest, the whole date thing was stressing you out more than your work was. you already knew that you would be up to the wee hours of the morning studying, but you might have to be up even later now that you would be spending time on something other than your work.

you loved porco, of course, you would enjoy the time you two will spend, but you’re still anxious about it as all hell. you ignored the thoughts of your impending doom and tried to focus back on your textbook. that’s all that was going through your sleep deprived brain.

textbook, write notes, textbook, more notes, quiz yourself, textbook, more textbook.

you didn’t even notice when you fell asleep, face planting right into your open book.

your boyfriend, however, did notice when you didn’t show up to his place, and also didn’t respond to your texts and calls. the plan was to meet up at his apartment and then walk to your favorite diner so he could treat you and hopefully take your mind off things. that did not happen.

after the eleventh unanswered text, porco was greatly annoyed with you, but just a bit more worried than anything. he made his way over to your apartment, ready to grill you on why you won’t answer him. 

knocking on the door, he kept glancing at the time on his phone. it was almost an hour past the time you two had planned to meet up. unsurprisingly, you didn’t answer the door either.

worry and panic stirred in porco’s stomach. what if something happened to you while you were on your way to his place? shaking the thought out of his head, he pulled the spare key you had given him out of his pocket and proceeded to open the door.

“(Y/N)? i’m coming in.” he called out as he pushed the door open. the lack of response did little to help the growing panic in him, and rather solidified it. still however, he pushed it from his mind. you’re fine, you had to be.

calling out to you, he made his way through your apartment, searching for you. he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when he spotted you in your room at your desk. asleep.

taking large strides across the room, he placed his hand on your shoulder, gently shaking you, so as to not freak you out. didn’t work, but was worth a try. you shot up, eyes wide, whipping your head around.

“whuh? who? where am i?” you called out groggily. porco chuckled fondly, his hand finding its way into your hair, petting you gently.

“you were asleep at your desk, sugar. our date was supposed to be an hour ago.” your head cleared at his words, and guilt replaced the tiredness in your head.

“oh. porco, baby, i’m so-” he cut you off, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

“enough of that, you look like shit, darling. i’m just glad you were sleeping and not like dead in a ditch somewhere or something.” you sigh, pushing your chair away from your desk and getting up. you stretch and a few of your joints make a loud popping noise, causing porco to grimace.

“sugar, how long have you been sitting there?” he pulled your sluggish body into his chest.

“mmmph. i dunno, i fell asleep like two, three hours ago and before that, i was there for a few more hours. six in total at the least.” you mumble into his chest. porco’s heart clenches out of sympathy. “just lemme get ready and we can head out, pock.”

“oh. no, no, we’re not going anywhere now. we’re gonna stay here and take care of you because you can’t seem to find time to do it on your own.”

“wait, no, pock, i messed up, we can still go, i swear just let me- ah!” he startled you, picking you up and carrying you to your bed.

“alright, here’s the plan. i’ll run you a nice, hot bath, you get in said bath and while you’re doing that, i order some takeout and then we cuddle all night until we fall asleep.” he pressed dozens of tiny kisses to your face. you tried to protest again, but he wasn’t having it, pressing another kiss to your lips.

“you need a break. i don’t like seeing you so down and worn out. just let me be a good boyfriend and take care of you. no more studying tonight. just us, okay?” you sigh, relenting with a nod of your head. “thank you, sugar.” he pressed another kiss to the top of your head and set off to get a bath running for you.

you suppose a break could be good for you, after all you have been studying your ass off, running on barely three hours each night for a week now. it’s time to just stop and trust yourself in porco’s care. 

finally being in your bed, you lie back and listen to the sound of running water, feeling your eyes droop closed. you barely rested your eyes for two minutes when porco came back in your room to tell you the bath was ready. making your way to get up, porco halted your actions and instead picked you up just as he did earlier, and carried you to the sweet smelling bath water.

he took it upon himself to make you a bubble bath, and if you weren’t already madly in love with him, this would do the trick. porco helped you undress, and lower yourself into the tub.

“okay, now stay here, i’m gonna go order some food for us.” and with that he left the room, allowing you to soak in the warmth that surrounded you like a blanket. now that you’re actually relaxing, you are so glad that porco decided to make you do this. it had been a while since you just took time to care for yourself.

you leaned your head back, allowing yourself to just sink into the heat and melt away the stress. you almost missed the sound of porco coming back in the room. he settled himself on the floor right beside you.

“how are you feeling, dove?” 

heart skipping a beat at the use of the pet name he rarely uses, you mumbled out a response, “a little better. thank you for this, pock.” he grins, feeling accomplished. 

the two of you sad there, chatting softly for around twenty minutes before porco made movement to help wash you and get you out of the tub. drying you off, he slips his hoodie off and onto you. you blush, clutching the soft material closer to you, taking in the comforting scent of his cologne.

the blond takes you by the hand and tugs you to your front room, pulling you on his lap. his arms snaked around your center, pulling you impossibly closer to him. burying his face into the crook of your neck, pressing the softest kisses to the skin there. your boyfriend was the best when he was extremely clingy like right now. nothing is nearly as soft has him seemingly trying to absorb you and your essence.

the doorbell interrupted the silence you two had surrounded yourselves with, and your boyfriend made his way to the door, collecting your food and bringing it back. he told you to put on a movie of your choice as he set up everything on the table in front of the couch. 

at this point, you’re thanking yourself for falling asleep earlier, or you wouldn’t have gotten this night in with the one person you love the most.

the rest of the evening was spent in a heap of cuddles in front of the tv, watching movie after movie until you began to drift away to sleep in the safety and warmth of your beloved’s arms.

“baby,” you tugged on his shirt to get his attention, “ ‘m tired.” you mumbled out to him, nuzzling even deeper into his embrace.

“alright, sugar, let’s get to bed then, yeah?” you nodded in response, making your move to get up, but again, for the third time tonight, he made his move first, picking you up and carrying you. 

porco, being the best boyfriend ever, laid you down in your bed, tucking you in with a forehead kiss, and then going to clean up the living room. you were already half asleep when he came back in your room and slid into your bed right behind you, pulling your back snug against his chest.

“why are you still here? don’t you have to go home?” you ask into the darkness of the room.

pressing kisses into your neck and behind your ears, he replies, “not gonna leave my little sugar cube all alone tonight. gotta give you the best night of sleep ever, so that clearly means i’m here.”

you let out a chuckle before turning in his embrace, connecting your lips. your mouths slide together slowly. sparks fly everywhere, burning your soul with the love you have for this man. you pull apart with a smile on your face and dig yourself down into his chest.

“i love you, porco.”

“i love you too, (Y/N).”

[mehbzz]

Home

I had the sudden urge to try and write some hurt/comfort TLC with our A/B/O chocobros.  An impulsive bit of writing that probably needs some editing but it fulfilled my itch! SFW, maybe 2 lines of mild suggestiveness. Just some snuggles and love. 

You had dreamt about home. You had woken with an odd mix of guilt and sadness that had eventually dissipated and left you feeling muted and distant. You were aware you were bringing up the idea of getting home less often, and thinking about it even less so and whether by design or by accident your pack were also rather quiet on the subject. The fact that you had started internally thinking of them as your pack added another burst of guilt to your already fraught emotions. You knew the sadness was there, but you couldn’t feel it, couldn’t feel much of anything that morning except a hazy cloud of brooding disinterest. Of course the boys had noticed immediately, the lack of privacy for your own feelings souring your mood further and after your fifth snapped response to their pestering they had quietly backed off. The day had passed in a majority of uncomfortable silence, you being dragged along with one alpha or another as they finished up whatever business they had in town.  

You were all now sat in the diner around the corner from the hotel. You were staring blankly out the window at nothing, fiddling absentmindedly with your napkin. Gladio had ordered for you, after you had shaken your head silently at the waitress.  Not really caring what he had asked for but the plate that was put in front of you had been a pleasant surprise. You weren’t aware Gladio paid that much attention to your eating habits but seeing your favourite food in front of you sent a small wave of grateful happiness through your low mood. “Thank you” your words are quiet and you offered him a small smile when he locked eyes with you. “You need to eat it all” his words are gruff and if you didn’t know better you’d think there was a light pink tinge to his cheeks. Before you can muster up the energy to tease him Prompto is pushing into your side. “You gotta try this” Holding up what looks like a fry dipped in his milkshake you eye it warily. “No thanks?” “Come on! Trust me it’s -”, a cough from Ignis has him lowering his offering in disappointment. “Aw man, you don’t know what you’re missing out on” He remains close to your side as you go back to your own food. You don’t feel particularly hungry but you can feel Gladio and Ignis watching you and you don’t have the energy to argue. You must have zoned out again as Ignis soft call of your name startles you. “Noctis is having trouble with his back this evening”, he repeats, “We were discussing delaying our trip for a day” You glance at Noct and you know immediately that’s it’s a lie but you don’t care enough to point it out or to wonder what they are up to this time. You shrug. “Ok” “A day off will do us all good” Ignis continues, watching you intently as he speaks but you just nod and give another quiet ok in response.

“It’ll be fun!” Prompto swivels back to you “I can show you some of the cool shots I got yesterday, there’s a couple of really funny ones of Noct when he – “ Noctis cuts him off with a low warning growl and you can’t help but smile at the playful threat. Prompto raises his hands in mock surrender before turning back to you. “First photos I’ll show you” he whispers before he continues his plan for the day. “Just chillin with some trashy TV and a pile of junk food,” he pauses and glances at Ignis, “uh, right Iggy?” Ignis stares at him before sighing “I will pick something up on the way back to the hotel” “Great!” Prompto’s enthusiasm is infectious and you find yourself nodding along as he continues his ideas for the day. Leaving Ignis to sort out the bill the rest of you start a slow walk back to the hotel. With Prompto and Noctis walking in front of you still arguing over whatever embarrassing pictures he had on his camera, you feel a little happier than you did before your meal but you still feel tense and oddly exposed, even with Gladio walking next to you. He steps closer, wrapping an arm round your waist to bring you tight into his side. He doesn’t say anything, which you are incredibly grateful for, just leans down to press a lingering kiss to your temple. Smothered into his side makes all your senses scream ‘safe’ and relaxing into his hold you are back at your hotel room before you know it. With another kiss he pushes you through the door with a sharp smack to your backside. He laughs at your reaction and lets his hand linger on your ass as he guides you in to the middle of the room. “Shoes off” The way he kneels down in front of you sends a mild buzz of arousal through you, which he notices, because of course he does, and he winks at you as you place your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. “I think you like me down here” With your shoes off his hands glide up your legs to the button of your jeans and you roll your eyes in mock annoyance. “I can take my own jeans off” he ignores your comment and instead places a quick kiss to your stomach as he yanks the fabric down your legs.

Your protest turns into a yelp as Gladio hoists you up over his shoulder to deposit you unceremoniously on his bed. “Get comfy” your disappointment as you watch him walk into the bathroom is short lived as Noctis and Prompto instantly try to snuggle you down into the mattress with them. Your hiss of annoyance is half-hearted and they both ignore it. Noct slipping straight into his favourite position at your side, head resting against your chest while Prompto grabs the remote to the TV before laying his head in your lap. Noct’s usual technique at comforting you was an unusual method of ‘bothering you until you pet him’ rather than outright affection but the way he was purring softly as you ran your fingers through his hair was actually calming, you had to admit. And the knowledge of the little huff he would have afterwards when he noticed the state of his hair added a small boost of amusement to your mood. Although the way he noses at your nipple through your shirt has you groaning in slight annoyance. “Not now Noct.” You can practically hear the whine building up in his throat but he doesn’t push you further, just shifts until his head is resting comfortably on your chest.

The sound of the TV and Noct’s gentle purring lulls you in to a drowsy peaceful state. Prompto quiet murmur of your name has your attention drawn back to him. He wants to say something or ask you something, you can tell from the sudden flux of nervousness in his scent and you brace yourself.  Instead he presses a quick kiss to your thigh that surprises a giggle out of you so he does it again. “I’m glad you’re here” his words are quiet, whispered against your skin in-between his kisses but the sincerity in them is obvious and you bite your lip to stop yourself from crying. “You are too, right?” His question hurts, and your thoughts from the morning come rushing back to you. You were glad, but the guilt at feeling like that was overpowering at times.  You hum noncommittally in response, not trusting yourself to answer. Noct obviously notices your distress and his hand squeezes your hip briefly before reaching down to smack Prompt lightly on the head “noisy” he grumbles “I’m trying to watch this” Gladio’s emergence from the bathroom and rumbled demand of ‘move’ distracts Prompto from making whatever snappy reply he had, and instead he moves with a pout, clambering over you to sit behind Noct. As you move from under Noctis’ weight, Gladio is not even completely down before you are curling up into his side. “Where’s Ignis?” you can’t stop your hand from trailing over his bare chest, tracing over the edge of his tattoo lightly. “Probably talking to the hotel clerk, he'll be here soon.” Gladio’s hand slips up under your t-shirt to rest on your ribs and you shiver, trying to push yourself closer. His fingers tracing small circles into your skin “Relax baby, daddy’s got you” the word is new, and you do your best to ignore the way it makes your stomach flutter. He doesn’t complain as you hook your leg over his, content to let you wriggle and shift until you are comfortable, half lying on top of him. “Better?” You nod against his chest and he raises his hand to start stroking through your hair, mimicking your earlier position with Noct. “You’re allowed be happy“ Gladio’s words whispered into your hair take you by surprise  and you bury your face further into his chest to try and hide your sudden rush of tears. He says nothing further and the quiet as he continues to stroke your hair is surprisingly soothing, the only noise over your quiet sniffles is the slight creak of the bed as Noctis and Prompto try to subtly move closer to you, offering you comfort and warmth against your back without saying a word. You must have dozed off after a while as the next thing you are aware of is the soft press of Ignis lips against your forehead. He sits on the edge of the bed next to Gladio’s quietly snoring form and the concern in his expression makes tears prick at your eyes again. He moves slightly, his hand brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. "Talk to me?" he asks softly. You’re silent for a few long seconds, not sure if you can explain your mess of thoughts and emotions well enough for him to understand

"I don’t…” your breath hitches and you try to swallow around the lump in your throat, “I don’t think about it much anymore” Its vague, and you don’t say any more, don’t clarify what you mean but Ignis seems to understand you. “Whether you do or don’t, it’s Ok, we still love you“ He brushes away another tear. He cups your face gently, and you turn into his touch with a shaky sigh. The outright acceptance of your jumbled emotions that you receive from the four of them is unsettling in the best way. You feel loved, and the tears begin anew at the realisation. In your own world, with your own family, you had never felt this level of belonging and acceptance. The guilt that maybe you didn’t actually want to return there was still prevalent, but felt less sharp than it had done.   The look of alarm across Ignis face at your fresh tears makes you smile in faint amusement. “I’m ok” he looks doubtful at your claim and you fight back the mild hysterical urge to laugh  “I am, Ignis, truly I am”. You swallow, wrestling your emotions back under some semblance of control and kiss his palm. “It’s just,” you hesitate “a lot. I’m not used to,” you gesture loosely between you “this” you give him a genuine smile this time, “but it’s getting easier” ‘This’ was a poor descriptor for describing the bond you felt as part of the pack. But Ignis seemed to know what you meant. He stills looks a little concerned but he leans down to kiss you, “You’re our omega” he reminds you. The possessive lilt to his words sends a happy shiver through you and you hum into his kiss in agreement.

Feeling vulnerable but a lot more stable, the adrenaline from the whiplash of emotions over the day has left you feeling restless and fills you with the sudden childish desire to annoy the man sleeping beneath you. You flick your finger sharply across Gladio’s nipple, snickering quietly at his sleepy annoyed grunt and at Ignis’ look of bemusement. He stands with an almost audible roll of his eyes just as you are considering biting down on the nipple closest to you. “I won’t protect you from the consequences of whatever foolish action you are thinking of taking” He watches as you bite your lip in thought before he turns away with a small huff of amusement “Those two are a bad influence on you”

“Hey,” as if summoned by the promise of trouble Prompto stirs behind you, poking you in your side. You twist in Gladio’s tight hold to try and look at him. “Noct is asleep” he gives you a mischievous grin and you respond automatically with a smile of your own even though you don’t know what he’s planning “wanna see those photos now?”

[jeogiyall]

Growing Pains; Song Mingi

Word count; 21.5k

Genre; Mingi X Reader, Hongjoong X Reader, Childhood Best Friends to Lovers, College AU, Angst, Fluff but Barely

Request: “ hey can I please request a college au with #11 and #17 with mingi from ateez! can it also be long and really angsty but with a comforting ending?? love your work by the way ❤ “

Additional; Featured Ateez, Rebound Hongjoong

Warnings; General Angst, Depicts Depression, Honestly Just Really Sad lol

A/N; this took me so freaking long to write, i’m really sorry to whoever requested it dhkdsfsdaf!! i hope you enjoy it! i haven’t been to college yet so this is all based off of books i’ve read or stories that i’ve been told. if anything is inaccurate i’m sorry, i’ll be learning about really soon lol. if you you like this fic please leave a like or some kind words! love you all, happy reading!

It was a summer day when the local neighborhood bullies pushed you off of your barbie themed bike for the umpteenth time. You remember scraping your knee, dropping your strawberry ice cream cone, then seeing the older boys approach you with malicious grins. But before they could fully reach you there was someone else, someone with limbs that were a bit too long and knees that were raw like yours. Any other day you would’ve found it unbelievably embarrassing that this bozo thinks he can handle this situation any better than you. As if you haven’t been handling this for years. 

But with him it was different. He somehow scared off the crude boys, then offered his hand to hoist you from the pavement while looking sadly at your discarded ice cream cone.

“I’m sorry about your ice cream.” You remember his voice being creaky, like it was always about to break (which it did, frequently,) “I’ll make you some whenever it snows! Th-that’s the only way that I know how to make it, but it’s really good I promise!” He was excited, almost like a puppy. Some part of you thought that it was cute, the bigger part knew he was probably just pitying you. Pitying you the same way that everyone does when you tell them of your constant bullying, only to forget about it in a week and leave you to the wolves. 

“Oh it’s okay, um…”

“Mingi.”

“Mingi!” You repeated the syllables, allowing their taste to form on your tongue. It’s sweet, like an orange soda and going to bed too late, “It’s okay Mingi, you don’t have to pretend like it matters.” Where you thought that his features would fade into relief they pull taught with sadness. He almost looked offended.

“You’re (Y/n,) right?” You nod shortly, eyes welling with tears for no apparent reason, “I-I’m not pretending. It matters.” Something about the way he gazes at you makes you think he’s been wanting to say that for a long time. 

“N-not really, they’re just mean sometimes. Besides, even if it did matter no one can stop it. No one’s ever stopped it.” It felt like you’d crossed a line. Cut the cake before you were supposed to, put out words you were meant to swallow down. Tears were really about to start falling, until Mingi took your skinned palms into his own larger ones. The clench of familiarity in your chest is enough to snuff out the stinging.

“I’ll stop it. I’ll do everything in my power to stop it.” He rubbed his thumb over the top of your hand, and it felt so nice. The gentle touch of someone who could be a friend. The notion that someone wanted you. It felt so nice and foreign and familiar all at once. So you nodded.

“Okay.” He squeezed your hand excitedly then surged forward, but stopped just before his arms could take home on your shoulders. You notice that he smells nice, like oranges and cinnamon.

“Can I hug you?” And just like that he’s made his way into the walls that you’ve already managed to build up.

“Okay.”

The boy holds true to his promise when two weeks later the boys approach you in the hallway, all cheery smiles and cold eyes. It’s a common exchange, they show up and tell you that you look nice today or some other fake compliment before demanding that you give them all of your lunch money. Which sounds stupid, until it’s two in the afternoon and you haven’t eaten all day and you won’t get to for another half hour.

But before anything can happen, Mingi is at your side and talking about his advanced math class. You watch as the boys slowly disperse at your friends silly rambling until it’s just the two of you. A deep breath floods your lungs as he softly punches your bicep in a way that’s starting to feel normal.

“Told you so. Do you want to come over for ice cream after school?” It’s silly how the words fill you with warmth, but you don’t even care. Because what you have here is so secure, and you know that it always will be.

And it always is. Mingi’s friendship is solid throughout your entire life, even when you started high school and nearly everything was shaky. Even when he grew out of the awkward limbs and squeaky voice, and all of the girls at your school wanted his attention. Day after day, Mingi would reject their proposals with a simple “I’m busy,” when the truth of the matter was that he would be sitting with you. Alone. In his basement, watching Star Wars on VHS tapes while eating strawberry ice cream and popcorn.

You remember turning to him one night, eyes drinking in the sight of his side profile illuminated by an exploding death star. He smiled widely, clapping his hands the way that he always does at that part. A deep sigh resounded through your chest, causing the boy to look at you with furrowed brows. For what must have been the millionth time, your eyes locked with his. Words weren’t even necessary for comfort.

“Why did you want to be friends with me? No one has ever cared about me too much, so why did you? I didn’t have anyone, why did you want to be my someone?” Your question sounds small, voice wavering gently.

“Maybe I needed someone too.” The response was so quick. Like he had pondered it before. As if he knew every doubt that you were having, and knew that you didn’t need to have them. 

From that night on, Mingi was more than your best friend. More than someone who you spent everyday with. No, he became your partner in almost everything. He took you to the school dance, stood beside you at every sports game, spent long nights trying to decipher math problems. No one was surprised when you two started applying to the same colleges, you weren’t even sure that you’d survive living without him. Judging by the pattering of his heart each time you entered a room, Mingi thought so too.

Over the years of close proximity and healthy doses of codependency, Mingi’s feelings towards you had progressed slightly past friendship. Not that he didn’t still think of you in that way, obviously. It’s just that whenever you fell asleep on his chest halfway through star wars marathons he’d have to will his heart to beat a tiny bit slower, or when his family brought you along to the beach he had to remind himself that it was rude to stare. The shift in his feelings started about three months into your sophomore year together, while stuffing your face with greasy fast food burgers after a wildly unimpressive football game. Neither of you ever cared about school sports too much, yet you were present every single week. When Mingi asked why, you claimed it was to get him out of the house. He’s pretty sure it was so that you’d have an excuse to get burgers afterwards, though. 

The boy distinctly remembers looking up over his boat of fries to see you with full cheeks, one strand of hair sticking to your slightly sweaty forehead. He remembers the bustling sounds of the diner going silent as his eyes drank in the sight of you for what felt like the first time ever. He remembers thinking that he wouldn’t know how to live life if it weren’t for you. Thinking that life wouldn’t be worth living if it weren’t for you.

“What?” You had questioned, nearly spitting out bits of cheeseburger onto your friends fries. If Mingi wasn’t so infatuated in that moment, he would have been disgusted. 

“You’re gross.” He laughed, one hand moving to nudge your shoulder. From that moment on, Mingi thought of you as just a little bit more than a friend. Just a little bit more than a movie marathon partner, just a little bit more than someone to spend late nights with. A little bit more than someone who helped move you into a college dorm, too. 

“Who on this forsaken earth thought that loft beds were a good idea?” You heave, flinging yourself onto the elevated mattress. It’s far from comfortable, and you’ve had to carry countless boxes up two flights of stairs due to the lack of an elevator, and the hallway smells distinctly of burnt microwave popcorn, but you have never in your life felt more free. High school was absolute torture, and while you did have Mingi to lean on you were still terribly lonely for those four years. Every other girl had a group to sit with, or someone to drag along to the bathroom with them in the middle of class. Having only one friend typically meant having absolutely no classes with them. 

But you’re here now, hundreds of miles away from the tattered building where you used to go to school. The only person on the entire campus that even knows your name at this point is Mingi, which in turn means he’s the only person that knows about your habit of loneliness. You intend to keep it that way, too. Every shy kid hears it from their parents, ‘College will be so good for you,’ ‘You’re really gonna come out of your shell in college,’ but those words meant more to you than an empty promise. In the last few months when you were so terribly lonely that all you had was Mingi and writing until your fingertips fell off, those words were your lifeline.

“Probably someone that didn’t get enough hugs as a kid.” Your friend responds while dropping the final box, which is filled with nothing but fuzzy sock, onto the pile that’s accumulating on the desk that’s squeezed under your cursed bed, “Looks like the last of it.” You nod, cheek brushing gently against the uncovered mattress. It creaks loudly when you shift, which is something you’re sure that you’ll never get used to.

“Are you sure that you don’t want help unpacking?” You barely look up while asking the question, nuzzling even closer into the awful bed. It takes a certain level of shamelessness to sleep on a fully uncovered mattress while a random stranger could walk in and drop all of their stuff on the floor, but you swear to the stars that you’re about there. Mingi appears to be the same way, taking to resting against your yet-to-arrive roommates desk.

“Yea I’m sure, my roommate’s this absolute giant, Yunho I think? He promised to help, so I’m all good.” A hollow laugh leaves your throat, aching with sleepiness. Mingi’s eyes soften ever so slightly before casting to your dirty tile floor.

 “Sounds nice.” There’s a nod, then a groan, then shuffling on everyone's part before Mingi is standing in your doorway and casting a soft gaze to your sleepy form.

“I’ll see you at dinner tonight.” A low humph resounds as your answer, but Mingi knows there’s no weight. You’re going to lay on that loft bed, sleeping like a rock until someone bothers to wake you up.

The someone just so happens to be Mingi, five hours later in a fresh hoodie that has your universities name embroidered across the chest. First you notice the perfectly made bed across the room, then the lack of another girl, then the scrent of oranges mixed with cinnamon, then finally Mingi nudging your shoulder from the ground while holding a Styrofoam bowl of hot food. 

“D-did I miss dinner?” Your eyes squint harshly, the way they always do when someone’s just woken you up. 

“Yea.”

“Sorry.” Mingis heart clenches tightly at your slurred speech, then again at your fluttering eyelids.

“S’okay, I brought you food.” His voice sounds warm, low. Like the Mingi that you’ve always known. You sit up and accept the to go bowl he’s passing up before patting the empty spot next to you. Within seconds the boy is next to you and offering utensils along with his arm around your shoulder, “It’s ramen.”

“Really?” The boy nods, fluffy brown hair falling onto his forehead as you excitedly rip the lid off. The smell of spicy ramen wafts through your otherwise empty dorm, and while it’s not the same as what Mingis mom would make from scratch on Winter days it still fills your belly with an immeasurable warmth, “Have I ever mentioned that you’re my favorite person?” Your shoulders relax thanks to a mouthful of slick curly noodles, Mingi can feel each individual muscle give way beneath his touch.

“Once or twice.” 

The two of you spend that night curled up on your bed sharing bites of the warm soup, and even once it’s done and the bowl is disposed of it still feels like old times. His arm is resting around you, the conversation is happening effortlessly, laughter is bouncing from every last tile. It doesn’t exactly fit in with your ‘new school, new me’  narrative, but that’s okay. You can always spend one night in comfort seeing as the following nights will be spent doing thousands of things out of your comfort zone.

When the time comes for him to walk back to his own dorm building, it’s well past dark outside, your clock ticking dangerously close to midnight from its perch on the (useless) nightstand. The boy hugs you in the doorway, making you pinky promise to not sleep through lunch tomorrow. 

“I won’t, I promise! Please don’t tell me that I left you sitting alone!” He exhales a short laugh at your furrowing eyebrows, his hand taking home on your shoulder in an attempt to squeeze out your tension.

“Not at all, Yunho has like a ton of friends. They’re funny, too.” 

“Really?” Mingi squeezes your shoulder one last before nodding. 

“Really.” 

He walks home in silence, the beginnings of an Autumn breeze kissing his cheeks. Upon arriving at the dorm Yunho spins around in his desk chair, smirking at the younger boy as if he knows something that Mingi doesn’t. 

“Where’d you go after dinner? We were gonna invite you to Wooyoung and Sans apartment.” Yunho leans back in the chair, it’s legs teetering precariously in a way that would debilitate elementary teachers.

“Oh, thanks! Maybe next time, I had to check on a friend.” Yunho quirks an eyebrow as Mingi begins to climb into his bed, kicking his shoes off at the base of the wobbly ladder.

“A girlfriend?” The question should be shocking, Yunho doesn’t even know that you exist for crying out loud, but he is so used to it. After being your best friend and caring for you as deeply as he does, he is so used to it.

“Nope, why do you ask.” The older boy simply shrugs, grounding his chair and picking up a stubby pencil. 

“Just an inkling. Lots of girls came up to you in line, you seemed less than interested.” Mingi ponders his response, because what do you even say to that? He doesn’t have a girlfriend, he’s not interested in anyone, he only has you to worry about. You, with your laugh that defines his childhood. You, with eyes that shoot wide anytime you’re worried about accidentally offending someone. You, who wants to make a new person in the coming year; and you, who Mingi wants to convince that you don’t have to change.

“Nope, she’s just a friend.” He decides, the words falling flat in the cramped room.

“Whatever you say.” 

Mingi lays sleeplessly in his bed for hours, his head pounding with the thought of how hard your connection with him is becoming. He loves you in more ways than one, but he doesn’t love the ache in his chest whenever he has to leave you. He doesn’t love that way that the weight of your touch haunts him for days, when for you it’s probably just something easy and meaningless. He doesn’t love being less to you than you are to him. 

But he does love you, in a way that’s impenetrable and everlasting. That alone is almost enough to make everything worthwhile. Almost.

*

It turns out the whole ‘new school new me’ thing is much harder than you previously anticipated. Naïve senior you thought that maybe you could meet new people through your roommate, but that didn’t exactly work out. It’s been two weeks and all you know about her is that she’s a junior, and that she really doesn’t want to be staying in a dorm. 

So, that’s obviously not going the way that you’d hoped. There is another person though, and he’s been a great help in meeting new people. He is a roommate, ironically enough. Just not your own.

Jeong Yunho, sophomore, fading blue hair, cheeks that look like freshly baked bread, brown eyes that sparkle a little bit when you ask about his major (biology, which is something that you know far too much about after a brief stop by Mingis dorm,) and a head that hits damn near every doorway it passes through. He has to duck to get into the cafeteria. But he’s sweet, like the guy who you could ask for help with homework. And he has so many friends, who are all terribly boisterous, that just eating lunch is like going out of your comfort zone.

Which is enough for you, but apparently not Mingi.

It’s a classic Friday night marathon, you already cuddled up on your bed with Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire pulled up on your laptop. The only thing left to accomplish is getting Mingi next to you and watching the movies, but that doesn’t seem to be the plan that your friend has. When he opens the door to your dorm you immediately notice the lack of Harry Potter pajama pants and popcorn. Instead he’s opted for movie night chic, with jeans that have something written on the left thigh and a white t-shirt that hangs off his lithe torso. His caramel brown hair is pushed back in a way that you’re not used to seeing, but it looks good. Attractive, even. There’s something about seeing him all dressed up and handsome while you’re in measly shorts and a platform 9 3/4 t-shirt that makes your cheeks go hot.

“I didn’t tell you before because I knew that you would say no, but Hongjoong and Seonghwa are having a party tonight and we’re going. Surprise!” Your mouth drops open at Mingi’s form of greeting. Before you can even process what’s been said he’s shaking the rail of your loft bed and chanting ‘Get up! Get up!’ 

“What about Harry Potter night?” You question dumbly while shimmying down your ladder. Obviously Harry Potter night has been discarded in favor of a house party, you don’t need Mingi to say anything to gather that much information, “Seonghwa is okay with a party in their apartment?” Mingi laughs gently, a soft shake of his shoulders and glittering eyes. It’s the only familiar thing about your interaction thus far. 

“The boys said that it’ll hardly be a party, probably too few people and too many wine coolers. Maybe some jazz, Seonghwa’s pretentious like that y’know?” He opens your closet door for you and starts to wrack through the few dresses in the very back. You’d never had much of a reason to buy any dresses. 

“Believe me, I know.” Seonghwa was one of the first of Yunho’s friends that you’d met, and while he wasn’t an ass about it he was definitely a little pretentious. It’s probably hard to be an art major for three years and not be pretentious, “Do I have to wear a dress?”

“You don’t have to, but-” 

Long story short, you find yourself sitting on a suede couch clad in a red plaid mini dress that you only bought for a neighborhood Christmas party in your sophomore year and your one pair of worn leather boots. It’s a tight fitting thing, meant to be worn over turtlenecks and with tights, but Mingi insisted that it would look good alone. He’s not wrong either, ever since you set foot into the surprisingly swanky off campus housing your lunch mates have been showering you in compliments. It started with Wooyoung wolf whistling and asking for your phone number, then Hongjoong asking if he could’ve complimented you in a way that was any weirder, then San giving you a stemless wine glass and announcing ‘A sparkling cider for the lady,’ in the most offensive British accent you’ve ever heard. It was for sure a strange form of flattery, but flattery nonetheless. 

“I’m sorry about Wooyoung, he apparently hasn’t been house trained yet.” Hongjoong jokes while settling you onto his plush, red hair briefly sweeping in front of his attentive brown eyes, “Though we can’t really blame him because of the whole sports medicine thing.” You hear a brief ‘I heard that!’ waft from the kitchen, where Yunho and Seonghwa have gathered the majority of the boys. It makes Hongjoong giggle a little bit, and the sound is so clear and gentle that you find yourself giggling too.

“I guess we can’t.” Your eyes move to take in the living room, which is filled with your lunchmates and some extra people who you don’t know in the slightest. First there’s San, your fellow literature major who just switched from middle school education. Then Yeosang, a quiet sophomore who majors in political science. He usually only talks at lunch to tell his table mates that they sound ridiculous, but every once in a while he'll indulge their antics. Lastly there’s Jongho, the only other freshman in the room with you that you know of. You’ve only just finished your second week but everyone’s already expecting him to be the star student of the music program for the next four years. 

Everything about this situation reads anxiety. Mingi is already in a different room, you’ve barely held a conversation with any of these guys before, someone in the corner is definitely getting a little too drunk into a ficus tree in the corner of the room. But you aren’t nervous. A little tense maybe but who wouldn’t be? You certainly aren’t nervous the way that high school you would’ve been nervous.

“He’s not wrong, you know.” Your eyebrows shoot up with a quiet ‘hm?’ behind your lips. It’s mostly because you think you’ve missed something that Hongjoong said.

“Not wrong about what?” He looks at you with his brown eyes and a lopsided grin, and when you look back it feels like he’s asking for permission to unravel you.

“That you look pretty.” 

It’s not his words that take you off guard, or how he pinches your cheeks afterwards, or even him getting off of the couch and bouncing into the kitchen like a kid coming down the stairs. Your heart barely announces a flutter, your cheeks barely give way to heat. He was probably tipsy. It’s just that no one has ever noticed you in that way. No one other than Mingi has ever really called you pretty.

So it leaves an impression, to say the least.

Quickly after Hongjoong leaves, San takes his place, Jongho sitting on the floor and nuzzling into the older boy's legs. The three of you talk for hours, Jongho sharing your disdain for grumpy roommates (he says that Yeosang throws pillows at him when he starts practicing) and San for Beowulf. He does mention that your creative writing class is fun, to which you agree. Fun, but ever so stifling for creativity. 

It’s a simple kind of conversation, the kind that doesn’t tell anything too personal but still gives insight into the people having it. San throws in a few anecdotes about him and Wooyoung in high school, Jongho shows you a bruise he got from fumbling up the ladder to his loft bed. You even include a few of the controversial star wars opinions that you and Mingi came up with at three in the morning so many years ago. It’s simple, weightless.

When Mingi walks you back to your dorm that night he pauses outside of the door, one hand brushing a stray strand of hair away from your eyes.

“Hongjoong asked me about you.” He says, a smile playing onto his lips. Something about the way that it doesn’t fully reach his brown eyes makes it seem sad.

“Really?” The memory of Hongjoongs hands on your face, his cute voice burning the words ‘you look pretty’ into the back of your mind, “W-What did he ask?”

“Just basic stuff. How long we’ve known each other, your major...” He wants to add ‘whether or not we’re dating,’ because that’s the question that struck him the most. Mingi doesn’t know Hongjoong too well, but he knows that the older boy is sweet and respectable. If Mingi explained all of this mess to him, Hongjoong probably wouldn’t think twice, just go about his day and be friendly as always. But Mingi didn’t explain it, he said that you guys are just friends and that it’s never been anything more than that. Hongjoong smiled in a way that made Mingi’s chest ache and thanked him before bouncing off to entertain Seonghwa. He remembers feeling taken aback, then like he should go talk to the pretty girl that’s been eyeing him in calculus, “I can’t do movie night next week. I-I have a date.”

And it’s something about those words that manages to crawl into your body and find a home in your heart, then pump throughout your entire bloodstream. You shouldn’t be upset. You have no reason to be upset. Mingi is your best friend, and you were stuttering about Hongjoong mere seconds ago, and you shouldn’t be upset right now.

“Oh, okay... Just don’t forget about me.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but Mingi looks at you like you’re the moon. With care glimmering in his irises and adoration adorning the glow of his cheeks. You think to yourself that there’s something special in the air, then that you shouldn’t be upset.

You have no reason to be upset.

“I couldn’t if I tried.”

*

The next time that you see Mingi is at lunch on Monday, but he doesn’t take his normal seat next to you. He can’t when you’re already sandwiched between Jongho and San, who are talking in intense detail about their terrible morning classes. Sometimes you can join in, seeing as you and San share classes, but for the most part they just banter. Hongjoong is taking up the seat in front of you, his chin resting on his palm while he nods attentively to everything the younger boys are saying. He reminds Jongho that he needs to be getting sleep, and that life doesn’t happen in practice rooms. He tells San to eat his food whenever the boy gets a little bit too excited. He even asks about your day, to which you respond with something simple and lame. When you mention being tired he gives you the rest of his coffee.

Mingi comes to the table nearly twelve minutes after you do, and it’s not really a big deal that he can’t take his usual seat. There’s a chair between Wooyoung and Yunho at the end of the table, which is perfectly fine. The two of you know each other well enough that a simple look can be translated to ‘It’s okay, we’ll see each other later.’ Which is perfectly fine. You both have a lunch that is perfectly fine.

The week continues on like that, though. Missing each other by a hair's breadth. On Wednesday his intro to statistical methods test goes so late that he misses your scheduled coffee run, then when you tried to surprise him in his dorm later that night, Yunho had to inform you that he was holed up in the library with some of the people in his calculus class (Yunho let you come in and made hot chocolate in the Keurig, so overall the night wasn’t too bad.) Then on Thursday you skipped lunch, opting instead to finish the assigned Beowulf reading at the last possible minute. You hated every minute of it, but not as much as you would’ve hated failing your second ever quiz. San sent you a picture of himself and Hongjoong pouting around your empty chair and Mingi in the background laughing at something that Wooyoung had done to Seonghwa. 

Friday night feels more lonely than you had expected. Your bed is empty without the taller boy sitting in it beside you. The movie gets cut off halfway through when your roommate stumbles in and announces that she’s going to sleep, which is the most she’s ever said to you at one time. You turn off your laptop and fall into the uncomfortable bed that you’re slowly getting used to. This is okay. You remind yourself that you shouldn’t be upset and that this is okay. 

Right as sleep is about to wash over the room your phone lights up with a message from Mingi. It’s a picture of his hand cradling the chin of a golden retriever puppy, and beneath he’s written ‘we found these dogs in the courtyard. sleep well :)’ 

After reading the message three times over and staring at the image for ten minutes you start to believe your words. This is okay.

You shouldn’t be upset and this is okay.

*

Your high school had three classes per semester then one free period for a study hall. Mingi would always make this huge deal out of lining up your study halls, claiming that he needed help with his English classes. In reality you were the person that needed help with classes, namely math and science, but he’d always insist that it was because of whatever book he had for assigned reading in the upcoming class. 

There was this one semester, though, where you had four classes. Anatomy, geometry, personal finance, and then your absolute saving grace. Creative writing. 

It was a true blessing, honestly. Since every other class was absolute torture, and you didn’t really have any Mingi time to take the edge off of your day, that class was your favorite part of nearly every day. You would kind of use it as an escape, just sit in the isolated corner desk, tap the toe of your then fresh leather boots, and write about any and everything that came to mind. The teacher liked one of your stories so much that he framed it. 

Seeing as that was your only experience when you saw ‘Introduction To Creative Writing’ on your schedule you were ecstatic. You thought that you’d just get to sit and write anything that you wanted. Needless to say, it is nothing at all like your high school class. The teacher speaks too quickly and assigns nearly a million readings. He waited four weeks to let the students do any actual writing, a fact that San was most grateful for. You, however, were dying.

You think the assignment is kind of stupid, too. Focus on a setting, no characters. Just the setting. It took a while for you to get it just right, but after about a week of staying up past midnight you wrote something that was actually good enough to read. It was nearly two pages about Florence Italy, going in depth about the winding roads. You commented that they were the kind of streets that lent way to deep discussion. The kind that begged for secrets to be shared.

All in all, you were quite proud of it. You even considered showing it to Mingi, until it came back with a bright red C sketched on the front. It was covered top to bottom in red ink markings, none of which were comments about your grammar. No, these notes were personal. This sentence is lifeless. Your tone shift is unnecessary. I’m not sure that this is actually in Italy. 

San asked about your grade on the way to your European literature class that day, right as you’re reading over the harshest note of them all. He says that he got an A minus, which makes perfect sense. San isn’t lifeless, he doesn’t do unnecessary things. 

“My grade is fine.” You choke out, eyes endlessly tracing over the red notation. 

‘This feels lonely.’ 

In a way, you suppose that it is. 

*

“So you did this every single Friday night?” Yunho questions while sandwiching his way onto Mingi’s bed. It would probably be normal to be upset that your movie is being infiltrated by your friends roommate and Hongjoong, but you’re just so grateful for the movie night to actually happen that it doesn’t matter.

“Sounds about right.” You’re about to comment that you’ve skipped the past two weeks, but the words twinge with resentment right as they’re about to come out. So you swallow them down while scooching into Mingi’s side. Hongjoong immediately fills the new space beside you, his hands occupied with fuzzy blankets that have various patterns. One has corgi’s and hearts printed from corner to corner.

“I don’t know if that’s lame or endearing.” The older boy comments while spreading the blanket you’d been eyeing across your lap. Yunho laughs while taking in a mouthful of microwave popcorn, and you think to yourself that this isn’t so bad. Having a movie night with more people than usual is better than having none at all. There’s more snacks and extra blankets now, so you don’t have to burrow into Mingi’s comforter halfway through and tangle your legs together. Because you’ve never wanted to do that before, it just happened out of habit and necessity. Definitely habit and necessity. Definitely. 

There’s also not much difference in the essence of movie night. Someone still interrupts serious scenes to crack a joke, you still tell Mingi that he’s breathing too loud, by the time the credits are rolling you still find grease stains on the underside of Mingis comforter. It’s from all of the years of him using the plush blanket in place of a napkin, and the years of you telling him that he’s going to stain it.

Mingi walks you back to your dorm that night. When he stops in front of the door and lets out a deep exhale it almost feels like you haven’t skipped the past two weeks. It almost feels normal.

“I’m glad that at least one of us has a cool roommate.” He comments idly, eyes raking over your growing smile.

“With cool friends.” There’s a gentle laugh, and you’re not exactly sure why. Nothing is funny, just familiar. Maybe a bit tense, though you suppose you don’t know the reason for that either.

“Yea. Cool friends.” Mingis feet shuffle, brown hair flopping onto the bridge of his nose as his gaze takes purchase on the floor. He smells like oranges and cinnamon. He always has. You think that he looks nice like this, with the flickering hall lights illuminating his face. This is probably what Mingi was always meant to look like. Real, and handsome, and grown, “I think we should switch movie nights to once a month.”

And if this whole thing was a little tense before, like an ornament hanging on by it’s hook around one green needle from a Christmas tree, it’s worse now. It’s broken shards of glass all over your living room floor, willing and ready to pierce your foot and stain the carpet. It’s the gaping hole in your Christmas tree. It’s your mom's favorite Santa no longer having a head.

“O-oh... Once a month?” Mingi nods gently. It almost looks like he doesn’t want to be nodding, but he is. He is, and it’s pulling your heartstrings like an orchestra. 

“Yea, I just figured that’d be easier since we’re so busy. Y’know, with classes and friends...” You wonder if he’s going to say something else. Like dates with girls from his calculus class. He never does, but you can feel it.

“I know, I-I’m like... Super busy with all of my f-friends.” A heartless laugh leaves you, and Mingi replies with a smile that doesn’t quite crinkle his eyes, “But yea. Once a month, once a month. Once a month totally works for me.” He takes a step towards you.

“Look, (y/n-)” You think that he’s about to comfort you, which of course would be welcome. Comfort from your very best friend is always welcome. It’s just that a small part of you is worried that he’s going to take it back. You’re worried that he’s going to tell you that it’s whatever and you can have movie night every week until you die and that he’s going to live life in college dragged down by your stupid, lonely self. You’re worried that he’s going to drop it, and that you’ll never live it down.

“It’s fine, I’ll see you tomorrow at lunch, yea?” Before the boy can even fully nod, which makes you sick to your stomach for no apparent reason, you’re scrambling desperately for the doorknob to your dorm. You think that you may hear him say goodbye, or wait, or something. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Everything matters. You just want to be inside. 

When you get inside your roommate is sitting on her bed with earbuds in, though they don’t appear to be playing anything. She looks at you with furrowed eyebrows, and you can’t really blame her. In the rush to get away from Mingi you probably ended up looking a bit frazzled. 

“Um... Are you okay?” She questions, her mouth making a perfect circle. You nod fervently while bringing your palms up to pull at your cheeks. They’re wet. You’re not sure when they turned wet. 

“I’m fine. It’s okay.” 

Sometimes you say something so many times that it doesn’t sound real anymore. I’m okay, this is okay. I’m okay, this is okay, This is okay, this is okay. Okay, okay, okay...

If your roommate hears you sniffling and shaking while alone in bed that night, she makes no comment. It’s the first thing she’s given you to be grateful about all year. 

*

One of your biggest concerns before starting college was walking to classes alone. All throughout high school Mingi would walk with you across the tiny campus, somehow managing to drown out the crowded hallways with laughter and tips for quizzes. When you were taking discrete mathematics he’d walk backwards down the hallway while showing you flashcards. 

Obviously you knew that wouldn’t be feasible in college. You might not have known many things before coming here, but you knew that vastly different majors would lead to vastly different classes. You knew that Mingi wasn’t going to wake up at eight am every Wednesday to walk you to your lectures. Knowing didn’t seem to make the actual act of it any easier in your brain.

But after just one week you started to look forward to the trek to your classes. At first it was because you could listen to the assigned readings in the amount of time it took you to get from your door to your desk, however that hasn’t been necessary since your social calendar became suddenly clear. You just do the readings at night in your loft bed, which hasn’t gotten any comfier, then use the walk as a time to relax. To think without impositions, even though they’d find their way to you most mornings. 

Today your imposition is dressed in jeans with painting above the knee and a sweater that’s too big, tufts of red hair sticking out from beneath his black beanie.

“What are you doing out so early?” Hongjoong asks while jogging to take up the spot next to you, pulling on the strap of your bookbag as he arrives. When you fully look at his face you can see a dusting of pink across his nose. You think it’s from the light fall wind.

“I could ask the same thing of you.” You think that he looks pretty like this, with inklings of the rising sun taking purchase on his face. You almost think that anyone would look pretty like this.

“I’m out for a walk. Also grabbing muffins from the campus cafe, we’re out of food and Seonghwa’s mgonna be hungry.” His voice sounds groggy with sleep, like maybe he hasn’t been awake long. The notion conjures an image in your head of Hongjoong detangling himself from bed and trekking out to campus all so that his friend would surely have something to eat. It makes this whole exchange just a little bit easier, “Your turn.”

“I have an eight am class.” The boys eyebrows knit together as he looks at his darkened phone screen.

“It’s seven fifteen.” 

“... I don’t like my roommate?” At that wimpy explanation he laughs, a gentle laugh that was made for morning, then hooks his arm through your own. The weight is something that you’ll have to grow used to.

“You kids are gonna drive me insane, I swear it.” His free hand pinches your cheek which is growing increasingly warmer. You hope that you two will continue walking like this, quiet and unbothered and maybe a little bit childish.

“Hongjoong?” You question as he begins to pull you down a brick paved road that you’ve yet to travel.

“Hm?” He answers like nothing about this is strange. 

“My class is the other way.” The boy giggles at your concern, wanting to reach out and run his thumb over the crease in between your eyebrows. Something about your demeanor, which isn’t far off from a stray kitten, clues him in that you wouldn’t respond well. 

“We’re taking a detour.” 

“If you don’t tell me where we’re going I’ll pull out my pepper spray.” This sentiment is the first thing all morning that’s made him stop in his tracks, casting a puzzled look to your bulky bookbag.

“Do you actually have pepper spray in there?” You can feel a smile edging on your lips as your eyes click with his, and while you know that he’s not giving you butterflies or sparks it does feel like something. Like the first gulp of soup on a cold day, or the sound of orange leaves crunching beneath your sneakers. 

“Tell me where we’re going and you won’t have to find out.” Obviously, you don’t have any. It’s been in your cart on Amazon for forever but you’re not one hundred percent sure about how to order things to a dorm, and you figure that your first package shouldn’t be a literal weapon. 

“We’re getting coffee, and you are terrifying.” The comment lights your cheeks with fire as you scurry to catch up with him once again.

“Well you’re the only person that thinks so.” The boy walks so quickly that your feet are nearly going in double time, face puffing with cold air while you speak.

“I doubt that.” You notice that his face is pink again, though you’re not too sure that it’s from the cold this time.

“You’re probably the only person who thinks anything of me.” Hongjoong stutters like he’s going to stop walking again but you tug on his arm once more and he’s back in full swing. 

“That’s so not true. Yunho thinks you’re sweet, San says you’re a wonderful writer, Mingi clearly thinks that you’re amazing.” That last statement finds a crawl in your chest and begins to fill your lungs with pink daisies. Amazing. Mingi clearly thinks you’re amazing. 

“Sure.” You answer with twiddly fingertips and a thumping heart. Luckily you’re standing in front of the campus cafe before you can think too hard on it.

Hongjoong orders two salted caramel hot chocolates, a black coffee, and three blueberry muffins. When you asked why he didn’t get you a coffee as promised he told you that the coffee here is ass and Seonghwa only drinks it because he’s starved for energy. You don’t have the heart to tell him that the frappuccino you order has so much cream and sugary syrups in it that you could barely even call it coffee, and it tastes pretty darn good. It’s not a big deal. Hot chocolate is good too.

“This is really good.” You offer later while walking through the campus quad. There’s not many people out this early, just a girl you’ve seen in your lecture once or twice and two boys playing checkers on the grass. Hongjoong keeps stepping on the crunchy orange leaves then smiling like a little kid. It makes you think that he’s growing on you, then that you thought that you’d be doing this kind of stuff with Mingi. 

You don’t really know why you can’t let yourself enjoy this. You’re in the quad with Hongjoong, waiting out the clock until your class starts, and this precious sweet boy is playing in the fall leaves. This should be a perfect morning, but you can’t help feeling sad. Feeling incomplete. 

“I know, right?” He answers, bouncing over to you wearing a bright expression, “Now get up pretty girl, we’re playing in the leaves.” 

“I have a lecture.” He takes your hot chocolate and places it on the empty seat next to you before slotting his hand into your own. His skin is soft, like blankets fresh out of the dryer.

“And before that you’re going to have some fun, let’s go!” He’s smiling at you expectantly, so what are you supposed to do other than drop your hot chocolate and join him?

Your first impression is that he plays with people in the way that a puppy would play with another puppy. He’s quite fond of kicking up piles of leaves just to see how tall they’ll go, then you kick them up further and he gets flustered. He then proceeds to throw leaves in your face, then picks them out of your hair before you can get mad enough to throw them back. You think that this is a lot of fun, then that your trusty boots make a nice sound when the leaves crunch under them.

There’s this one time when you try to kick up the leaves and your leg slips out from beneath you, which sends you flailing backwards into the leaf pile. Hongjoong rushes over immediately, his face half concerned but mostly lit with laughter. He asks if you’re okay, though it’s through indecipherable wheezing so you can’t really hear him. The boy is laughing so hard that he ends up laying next to you, red hair and sparkling eyes mingling with the orange leaves seamlessly. You think that he looks like a photograph. 

If you show up to your lecture ten minutes late and with crushed leaves sprinkled through your hair, no one mentions it. 

*

Movie night with Wooyoung and San is fun. The popcorn is a little bit burnt, courtesy of San, but their couch is far more comfortable and blankets far fuzzier. Sans burning a candle that smells like cookies, and you feel like nothing could be more accurate to him. 

“This is nice, I’ve been meaning to rewatch Harry Potter.” Wooyoung comments while sinking in between you and San on the couch. He’s cradling a bowl of slightly browned popcorn and shoving it into his mouth as if there’s nothing wrong. 

“Yea, definitely. I like spending nights in.” You’re about to tell them that you considered this a night out, but then you think that’s terribly sad and that you’d sound really lame. So you nod instead.

They’re pleasant movie guests, San makes funny comments every once in a while. Wooyoung starts to fidget about halfway through the first movie so he spends the first portion of the second one making a fresh batch of popcorn. It doesn’t burn this time. Him and San spend almost the entire movie tossing popcorn across the room and into each others mouths.  Overall it’s not such a bad night.

When all is said and done and you’re helping them pick up misfire popcorn kernels, the boys get to talking. They ask you what Mingi’s up to that he couldn’t make it to a Friday movie night. You’re going to tell them the truth, that Mingi’s out on a different date with a different girl from a different class. You’re going to tell them, but the words taste so terribly bitter on the way up.

“Um... I’m not sure. Probably homework.” Wooyoung tosses an unpopped kernel so that it hits you square in the forehead. You simply giggle before throwing it into your trash bag.

“We should’ve invited him! Him and Yunho, it could’ve been a whole thing!” San shouts from the kitchen. It makes your skin prick up with goosebumps. Because while you are definitely lonely, and you definitely miss Mingi, you’re not sure that you could handle his response. You’re not sure that you could handle asking Mingi to come to one of your most prized traditions and him saying no. Him saying no because he’s out with another girl and giving her his undivided attention, because that is how he is, and you couldn’t handle hearing him saying no to you. He never used to say no to you.

“I had fun with just you guys, though!” They tackle you in a bear hug, and it feels nice. It really does, it’s just that you still have that nagging feeling in your gut. Like your professor is right. Like you’re alone.

*

Your next ‘Introduction To Creative Writing’ assignment is about characters. The rubric clearly states that it should just be about the people and nothing else. Points will actually be deducted if you mention a setting.

So you wrote two characters, a boy and a girl. The boy finds the girl too bland so he asks if she’ll share a secret with him. She thinks for a long time while the boy studies her face, and he loves every corner of it. Finally, she leans in to whisper something. You don’t tell the audience what she’s said, but you do tell them that it makes the boy laugh. Then he kisses her cheek and they laugh some more, until time dies out and the stars no longer shine. You liked it from the moment that you started writing it, and by the end it was something that you were genuinely quite proud of.

Apparently pride wasn’t enough to get you a much higher grade. It’s passed back looking exactly like the last one, a bright red C and thousands of red notations. You flip to the rubric in the back to see that everything is marked straight down the middle. 

You didn’t mention a setting, but you didn’t make the setting irrelevant.

Your characters didn’t interact with the setting, but they barely interacted with each other.

You included characters, but they were not lively and enjoyable.

And you’re not quite sure why everything you write is so dead. You’re not a person who feels dead, you’re funny and full of life. You have things to say that are important so you write them into stories rather than speaking them out loud. You’re good at this, so why are you getting C’s? Why is an old man with a beard that touches his belly button saying that you aren’t good at this? 

When you get back to your dorm you rip the paper to shreds and cry alone in your loft bed. Mingi texts you to ask when you’ll be at dinner, you tell him that you’re too busy with homework. He asks if he should bring you something, but you lie that it’s all covered. You’re not entirely sure that you could handle seeing him right now. 

When your roommate comes in she seems a little drunk. She clambers over to her bed then finally looks up to you. It’s not your finest moment, cheeks streaked with mascara and shreds of paper all around you.

“You okay?” She slurs out. You think that it’s a dumb question, because obviously you aren’t, but at least she’s trying. Trying is good.

“I’m fine” Right as the words come out you know that they sound fake, but you don’t know what else to do. Normally when you feel like this Mingi is just a phone call away. Every time you’ve tried to call him in the past week it’s gone to voicemail. When a week has really torn you down like this one you’d always have a movie night to look forward to. Mingi made it clear that he wasn’t too keen on that anymore. You usually have your shoulder to cry on. Now you don’t even think you’ll be able to keep yourself together if you see him.

And it’s hard for a lot of reasons. Because you need Mingi but Mingi doesn’t need you. Because everything feels so wrong unless you’re desperately trying to salvage your longest friendship. Because maybe this friendship meant a little bit more than just that, but you’ve realized entirely too late.

*

You usually wake up at seven thirty in the morning. It’s not because you want to, or because your roommate is too loud climbing into her bed at night, or because the sun comes into your dorm weirdly. You just go to sleep late, because you can’t force your brain to stop, then wake up early. Because out of all of the things that are going wrong, why wouldn’t you also get less than four hours of sleep every night?

But it’s not all bad. Every other morning you meet Hongjoong in the quad. Sometimes it’s with a book, sometimes with your latest creative writing assignment. He’ll read them and make comments. He always says that it’s good, and it’s fun to believe him for a little while. 

This morning you come to him empty handed, just like he said to last time. There’s supposed to be a surprise. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that you don’t like surprises. 

“Good morning, pretty lady!” He’s always so chipper in the mornings, with his eyes crinkling happily around the edges and bright red hair bouncing. Today he’s wearing a puffy coat that’s nearly ready to swallow him whole paired with jeans that have a painting sprawling up the calf. You had recently found out that he and Seonghwa were responsible for the illustrations on everyone's clothes. Mingi gave them his favorite jeans after two lunches spent in the cafeteria.

“Good morning.” You were clearly finding it hard to be as excited.

“Did you read the student newsletter yesterday?” Cold air puffs from his lips along with the words, and his face lights up when you shake your head no. The collar of his coat is brushing his cheeks, “So it’s really a surprise then!”

He’s so precious and childlike in that moment that you decide there’s no harm in indulging him.

“What’s really a surprise?” He’s already started walking so you have to do a half jog to catch up, once you’re at his side he starts to skip so that you have to jog even further. This happens every once in a while whenever your friend is feeling extra punchy. You often find it hard to match that energy, but something about this early November morning has you more present than ever.

“Catch up to me and I’ll let you know.” He reaches into his pocket and appears to pull something out, then hang it over his head. You know there’s nothing in his hand. It’s empty and you know that, nevertheless you chase after him. The boy laughs loudly before sprinting away. Once you’ve caught him you start jumping for the mythical gift hanging over his head, which he finds unreasonably funny. The sound rings off the brick path beneath your feet, and it’s like the sun is finally rising. You think that’s the kind of person that Hongjoong is, the kind that would bring the sun up just to make someone else smile. 

When you open his clenched hand he slips it into yours, fingers curling ever so gently around your own. His skin feels soft, it makes you wonder what kind of lotion he’s using.

“I caught up.” Your voice sounds small. Hongjoong thinks it’s bright, “What’s my surprise?”

“There are puppies in the quad, I think they’re up for adoption. I figured you’d like to see them.” He’s perfect. On paper Hongjoong should be the perfect boyfriend. He takes you to see puppies, buys you hot chocolate, makes you play in leaf piles, you’re pretty sure he’s redone his entire sleep schedule just so that you two can keep up with these morning strolls. You so badly want Hongjoong to be perfect.

But there’s just something off. Maybe it’s because his one hand can’t fully engulf both of yours, or because he doesn’t tower over you with what feels like two extra feet. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t smell like orange zest and freshly ground cinnamon. 

Maybe it’s because he’s not Song Mingi.

“I would like to see them.” You respond, squeezing onto the boy's hands. Hongjoong is perfect, but he’s just not right, “I’d like that very much.”

*

You’re not quite sure how it happened, but San seemed to notice that your Fridays were becoming more and more lonely. After that one Harry Potter movie night you did with him and Wooyoung in their shared apartment you’ve not really done anything. Hongjoong invited you to another house party, and you were going to go, but when you reached for the handle to exit your dorm you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Something about going and knowing that Mingi would be there, probably with his date of the week, made your mouth taste sour. So you stayed home instead, sitting in your bed and struggling with a creative writing assignment. You’d occasionally snack on some granola bars that Mingi stashed in the bottom of your closet when he moved you in.

Those were your plans for tonight, but San grabbed you just before class ended. He told you that Wooyoung was planning dinner but the recipe serves four so he figured that they could invite you and save the rest as leftovers. You agreed, fully expecting that you’d chicken out at the last second and stay home, yet here you are. Standing in their kitchen while sipping on a shirley temple that San mixed up for you, Wooyoung is occasionally stirring the simmering pot on the stove. San invited Hongjoong at the very last second so those two are sitting at the kitchen table and trying to talk each other's ears off. You find your way into the empty seat beside Hongjoong and let his hand rest on your thigh. He rubs gentle circles on your jeans, and it nearly gives you butterflies.

“Dinner is almost done, would you guys mind grabbing some drinks from the garage.” The two boys nod before scurrying towards the front door and shared garage. Wooyoung takes the seat across from you, “Do you think you’re gonna date him?”

“Who?” You ask, probably in a less defensive way than he’d anticipated.

“Hongjoong.” Wooyoung doesn’t look as playful as usual, the childlike glint gone from his eyes. If anything the boy appears worried, probably for his friend Hongjoong. Part of you wants him to be worried for you. You’ve barely eaten anything except for granola bars in the past week because you don’t want to risk running into Mingi in the cafeteria. Your five hours of sleep every night has been slowly dwindling down to four. Mingi has moved movie night twice this month. You still can’t get a good grade on a creative writing assignment. 

“I don’t know.” You think that you probably are. You think that you mostly want to.

“But you aren’t going to date Mingi?” It feels like the air around you is made of cotton, your mouth has gone completely dry.

You don’t know why you’re upset. You shouldn’t be upset.

“No.” There are tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You hope that if you breathe deeply enough then you can will them to stop, “I suppose I won’t.”

The dinner turns out lovely, but you can barely take a bite. You can barely even say another word for the rest of the night. You just tell  them thank you, it was lovely, then go home to finish your creative writing assignment. The professor is probably going to write a note that it’s lonely. That’s okay, though. It is lonely, because that’s what you are. Terribly, and irrevocably lonely.

*

A week after the dinner party you and San are partnered together on a creative writing assignment. The main goal is to learn how to work collaboratively with another author, not that you even considered yourself that, and it’s coming along nicely. There are just a few things that need to be cleaned up before it’s due, which prodded San to invite you out to coffee. At least you thought that’s what it was about, but when he takes his seat at the table there’s no laptop tucked beneath his arm.

“A-are we not working on the project?” You question softly, hands hovering idly over your keyboard. 

“I wasn’t planning to, but you... You can if you want to, I guess.” He drops his bags and heavy coat in the vacant seat before flipping through his wallet, “You ordered yet?” You shake your head no, you didn’t want him to show up and have you already be halfway done with your drink and then deal with the awkward conversation of how you showed up thirty minutes early because other than meeting Hongjoong in the morning this is the only thing on your social calendar for a week. After that you have movie night, “I’ll get you something. Coffee or tea?” 

“Coffee.” When the boy returns to the table, it’s with two steaming mugs, perfect for the frost bitten weather outside. Yours smells like vanilla and nutmeg.

“It’s the shop special I think.” He smiles gently, dimples on parade for the entire campus to see. You think that San has a nice smile, the kind that takes over his face, along with yours before you can even stop it.

“It’s nice, thank you.” Things are quiet for a second while San is putting away his wallet, and for some reason you’re confused. If you’re not going to work on the project then why on earth did he make the time to get coffee? 

“(Y/n?)” He asks softly, raising your attention from the untouched mug of coffee to where his hand is on the lid of your laptop, “Are you okay?”

“Yea, I’m good.” The words sound dismissive before they’ve even left your mouth, “Why did you ask to get coffee?” Sans eyebrows raise and he feels a small tug on his heart. He doesn’t understand why he wouldn’t want to spend time with you.

“Because I have free time and I wanted to spend it with you.” You’re not sure why, but it’s hard to hear that. Maybe because you’ve been hiding from life for as long as you can remember, or because you’ve had nothing but free time for a month and you’ve wanted to spend all of it with the one person that will hardly return your texts, or maybe because sometimes those words are hard to hear. 

“Oh.” You take a sip of the coffee, it makes your stomach feel warm for the first time in a long time, “Thank you.” San cracks his knuckles while offering up a gentle smile.

“No need to thank me, we’re friends.” 

“I guess that’s why I’m thanking you. I don’t have a lot of friends, if you hadn’t noticed.” The boy is looking at you with attentive eyes, and it feels like there’s something lodged in the back of your throat. It tastes like vanilla and nutmeg and thousands of wasted opportunities, “I used to have Mingi, but he’s so busy with all of the classes and... Dates, that we don’t really talk much. I’m grateful that I have you.” When San smiles it’s sweet and genuine and you feel like you are finally doing the whole college thing. The thing where you make growth.

“I’m grateful to have you too, you’re a sweet kid.” If you weren’t so touched you would remind him that he’s only one year older, “I don’t think any of Mingi’s dates have much substance, honestly.” Something about the way he says it makes you think that he’s not talking about the girls themselves. It makes your heart flip.

“How come?” As soon as the words leave your mouth you pray that they don't sound eager. San lets out a heavy sigh and you think that maybe your prayer worked.

“He just isn’t really satisfied with anything. There have been girls eyeing him since his first time in the cafeteria, but he didn’t care much for it. Now he’s decided to take them up on their offers, and yet he still doesn’t seem to care for it. We’ve all asked him what’s up but he won’t say much. Just that it’s not what he’s looking for.” There’s a pointed gaze that says a million things. Mingi hasn’t found what he’s looking for. Mingi is just as lost as you are. Maybe Mingi couldn’t find what he was looking for because it’s always been there. Maybe Mingi needs you as much as you need him.

“Oh. I didn’t know.” You leave the cafe that day with a smile on your face and hope fluttering around in your heart, and for the first time in a long time you think that maybe you can be happy.

*

You’ve been planning this night since the moment you stepped out of the campus cafe with San. It’s probably a little bit cheesy, with all of the contraband candles and what not, but Mingi always said that you went a little overboard on movie nights. Now you’re standing in the center of your empty dorm room, illuminated by tea light candles, wearing the dress that you wore when Mingi dragged you to your first ‘party,’ and your heart all the way in your throat. Because tonight is the night. Tonight you’re going to tell Mingi how you feel about him, and you’re not going to listen to the little voice in your head that says this is probably stupid, and that Mingi showing up over half an hour late is a bad sign. That voice is annoying and has made you wait too long for too many things.

So when Mingi walks into your dorm with rosy cheeks and windblown hair, you let your heart stutter. When his jaw drops open, you let yourself laugh, and when he takes a step forward, you do too.

“What’s this about?” He questions with a familiar deep voice that leaves warmth blossoming in your chest. 

“I just...” Your eyes lock onto the freckle on his neck before flashing back up to eyes. They’re sparkling in the flickering candle light, “I’ve missed you. Really badly, Mingi. I miss you in the mornings when I walk to class, I miss you at lunch when I get my granola bars from the closet, I miss you when I’m with my friends, I-I... I miss you on Friday nights. I spend all of my time missing you, and I don’t want to anymore. I’m tired of hiding how I feel about things, like I think that my creative writing assignments are stupid, and I hate everyone in sports medicine except for Wooyoung, and I miss you. A-and I think that I might love you, so I wanted to-” Mingi takes two steps forward, coming dangerously close to closing your distance, and you think that he’s about to kiss you. You think that you’re ready for him to kiss you. You’re heart is beating faster, then faster, then faster-

“Why are you doing this?” And then it stops dead. You honestly think that you might be dead. This feels worse than being dead.

“Um, d-doing- Doing what? I’m not doing anything, I thought you were-” You’re rambling and it’s so awful, Mingi knows it’s awful. His hands are massaging his temples as if this is insanely stressful. It kind of is, but you can’t figure out why he would think so.

“Why are you telling me that you love me? After not seeing each other for almost a month, why are you telling me that?” Clearly, this is not the way that you expected tonight to go. Several of the candles by your desk has burnt out, you feel like you’re about to cry, “I haven’t been lonely, (Y/n,) because I have a-” You feel tears tugging on your eyelids so hard that it hurts. Before you can think about it, and before you can hear whatever he has to say, your index finger is in between his eyes and you’re staring at him like you want to throw something out a window.

“Don’t say that.” It’s probably the most assertive you’ve ever been with him, “I just don’t understand why you’re fighting me on this.” Mingi takes a deep breath before running his hands through his hair. You wonder when he picked up on that habit, which person got to see this before you did. He looks handsome. You hate it. 

“I don’t understand why you get to want this now. I don’t understand how I have waited and waited for you to love me back for years, and once I’m finally done with letting you break my heart you get to decide that you want this. I don’t understand how that’s fair.” There are tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, but they’re different from the ones that you’ve seen before. They’re not like the ones he sheds over movies, these tears are angry and unwilling. 

“Mingi I-“ 

“Don’t say that you didn’t know. I know that you didn’t know, because you never wanted to know. You were too scared to know, but I was never scared. I’ve always known that we were right, and you were always scared.” It feels like your heart is trying to crawl up your throat in the worst way possible. Like it’s a spider that you swallowed. 

“Mingi that's not what-“ 

“But I can’t be with you (Y/n,) because I’m done with you being scared. I’ve been done with you being scared for years, and I'm finally okay with being done with you. Let me be okay, (Y/n.)'' There are now tears behind your eyes as well, but it’s not angry. It’s sad, because he’s right. You are really scared, it took months for you to work up the courage to admit to even yourself that you love Mingi.

“What are you saying?” The words are choked and staccato, tears spilling freely onto your cheeks. A brief look at his tear streaked face tells you that he’s known this answer for forever. 

“I’m saying that I can’t be with you right now. I just… Can’t.”

He leaves before he can see you sink to the tiled floor, or hide your face in your hands, or cry off all of the mascara you had put on just for tonight. Just so that you could bat your eyelashes at him and give him love until the sun came up. Just so that you could give him your love like flowers and a candle lit room.

But you don’t get to do that. You put on mascara for no reason. Mingi doesn’t want your love, he doesn’t want your candle lit room. He gave your flowers back, and they’re just going to sit on your nightstand until time takes her toll on them. Until they wilt and wither and all of the petals fall onto the floor. You don’t know if you’ll have the strength to sweep them up.

It’s not clear when you start crying, but it is clear that you never stop. You cry for hours and hours until you finally pull yourself off the floor and into your bed. The candles burn themselves into darkness. The room smells a bit like ash. Your blankets are warm. Your chest aches. Mingi is gone. You are scared and you’re alone. You probably always will be.

* 

You’re not sure when food lost its taste. When your room lost its color. When your legs became too heavy to move. When sleep became extinct. When it was easier to be in the library than it was to be in your own room. When every single one of your grades sky rocketed to an A while creative writing sat heavily at a C. You can’t watch Star Wars anymore without wanting to throw up. Strawberry ice cream tastes like poison.

You’d fallen asleep on a desk in the back of the library twice before Yunho found you. He wasn’t exactly sure what to do seeing as it was the middle of the day and no one had heard from you for a week and a half except for San, but he figured that leaving a hot coffee by your sleepy head seemed to suffice. If you were tired enough to fall asleep in the library it was probably much needed.

He thought that he’d just forget about that encounter, sweep it quietly under the rug and hope that you started getting more sleep. It was going well enough, until he arrived here. One week later, ten minutes before midnight, you in the same exact position as last time. There were tear tracks in your makeup and black smudged beneath your eyes. He could see the assignment peeking out from beneath your folded arms, ‘Study In Relationships,’ no doubt for creative writing. There are only two words that aren’t covered in black scribbles. You let a gentle snore, and he knows that it’s time to wake you up. To talk to you.

“(Y/n?)” He whispers while gently nudging your shoulder. You grumble ever so slightly before snatching the unfinished assignment back to rest beneath your head. Another small grunt leaves your lips before he calls out your name again, shaking you with a bit more force than the last time. Your eyes flutter open gently and take in the tan walls and fluorescent lighting before you fully register that Yunho is there. 

“Hey,” Your voice is gruff around the edges, and you know that if you say too much everything is going to fall apart, “good to see you.” His eyes take you in, sweatpants with countless stains, a hoodie that has a little hole forming in the armpit, your hair disheveled and greasy. He knew that something bad had happened when Mingi came back to the dorm about two weeks ago with tear filled eyes and an unwillingness to talk. You stopped showing up to any of the meals after that, even Hongjoong couldn’t get a hold of you. The blue haired boy would be lying if he said he didn’t worry for you in passing, but all of those concerns were brought to a forefront at the sight of you now. You look, and he means this in the nicest way possible, like a disaster. 

“Yea, i-it’s good to see you too.” His hands fiddle with the hem of his sweatshirt, busying themselves so that he doesn’t start to pack up for you, “The library is closing.” Your eyebrows furrow as you suddenly remember where you are. 

“Oh. I-I’ll get this cleaned up then.” You don’t know why, but asking him to help feels wrong. You’d like help, but something about his pitying eyes makes you feel small. The same way that you did when those boys pushed you off of your hot pink bike. Like he’s pitying you, except now there’s no lanky kid to save you.

Yunho ends up offering the smallest amount of help possible, just slipping your pencil into your bookbag, before helping you stand. The room swims for a minute before you can walk.

“Can I walk you back to your dorm?” You don’t know how to tell him that most nights you don’t go back to the dorms after the library kicks you out. Most nights you plop down on a bench in the quad and slave over your creative writing journal. Most nights you don’t crawl back into your room until four in the morning, when your roommate is dead asleep and can’t ask you if you’re okay, “Just don’t want you walking back alone in the dark.”

And really, what are you supposed to say?

“Yea, that’s fine.” The two of you walk in silence for a wall, nothing except for the rhythm of padding feet and rustling tree branches. Early winter air nips the tops of your ears while Yunho shivers beside you. You hear him miss a step and you feel yourself choke on a thousand words. 

“We’ve missed you.” You don’t respond with the question that you desperately want to ask. You don’t ask if everyone misses you. If a certain boy that smells of cinnamon and eyes that glimmer like childhood misses you. 

“Yea. I’ve missed you guys too.” The silhouette of your dorm building is slowly coming into view, you think that it looks different when the world is still awake. Some windows are still lit, people are drawing curtains shut. Normally when you come home everything is dark and unbelievably cold. This isn’t anything special, but it’s a whole lot better than that, “This is me.” You say tersely while slowing to a stop in front of the looming building.

“Yep.” You can tell that he wants to ask you something. Maybe it’s why you were asleep in the library, or why depression wears you like a necktie, or why he hasn’t seen you in the cafeteria for a month in a half. He wants to ask you something, but the way his lips close around the consonant tells you that he won’t.

You get halfway into the door before something tugs at your heart strings, “Yunho?” You call out, turning halfway over your shoulder to see his eyes trained on you. They look sad. You think that it makes sense why, “Thank you.” 

He nods curtly, and you know that he’s not sure why you’re thanking him. It’s okay though, because at least you know that he misses you. Before tonight, you thought no one missed you.

Sleep is as rare as ever that night, yet the thing that lulls you to sleep is the same as always. Floppy brown hair, clapping hands, a bad CGI explosion playing off of a crackly VHS tape. He smells like cinnamon and orange rinds, yet when you inhale it’s nothing but your dusty dorm room.

*

The end of the semester means wrapping up many loose ends. You pack up every coat and Christmas themed clothing item in your closet, notably avoiding the dress that you wore for Mingi. You meet Hongjoong for coffee and exchange presents, a pair of customized jeans for you and a twenty five dollar visa gift card for him. He smiled really wide when you told him that it was to make up for all of the coffees and meaningless conversation. You drop the level two creative writing class that was on your schedule. San makes a plan to meet up over the holiday and you agree wholeheartedly. Finals week isn’t all too bad seeing as you’re already getting less than four hours of sleep a night and funneling every bit of brain power into school. The only thing that’s left for you to do is turning in your creative writing assignment, which is both the easiest task and the one that you want to do least. 

The classroom is dead empty when you enter, not even your white bearded professor in sight. You scurry down the steps with the short story in hand, a meaningless piece about two strangers who share misty mornings. You hate it, just like you’ve grown to hate almost everything that you create, but it’s an assignment. It meets the bare minimum for what’s required on your rubric. You finished it.

“Miss (Y/n?)” Your body freezes in the middle of the final step before stuttering slowly back to normal. It probably looks stupid but you barely have the will to care, seeing as the thing that you were most dreading was happening. Your creative writing professor is standing at the top of the classroom with his long beard and judgmental eyes, and you are standing in front of his desk with shaky knees. 

“O-oh, hi! I was just turning in-”

“Why aren’t you enrolled in my class next semester?” You take in a breath, the air as thick as soup. You don’t know how to answer his question. You don’t want to answer his question. Answering his question feels like letting go of a piece of yourself.

“Oh, I-I dropped it. It’s just that I have other classes I need to take, a-and I’m not all that good so…” Your professor nods before furrowing his bushy eyebrows and starting slowly down the stairs. Each of his forward steps causes your heart to thump. 

“Who said that you aren’t good?” He questions, continuing down the steps. You clench the assignment in your hands and watch as the paper creases beneath your thumbs. When you look at the pages they’re clear, nothing but your words and margins, but when you think about what it’ll look like in a week you want to cry. It’ll be marked in red, with a fat red ‘C’ circled on the title page.

“I-I just, I never thought, Y-you said-” The professor is now standing in front of you with folded hands, his expression of confusion shifted into concern.

“I never said that you aren’t good.” You  breathe in again, the air thin enough to actually intake this time around. 

“You didn’t?” He shakes his head before pulling the crinkled assignment out of your hands.

“No, you show great promise as a writer! Your writing is… lacking, but it’s only in one area that can be easily improved upon. No great writers start out great, but all great authors show their flaws at one point.” Tears prickle the back of your eyelids, and it feels like there’s a little hand grappling onto whatever you thought you’d have to let go. 

“Miss (Y/n,) I’m trying to say that failure is okay. Getting less than a ‘B’ on your paper is okay, but you can’t stop trying.” He’s right, a part of you has known for a while that he’s right. Just because you got a bad grade in this class doesn’t mean that you’re bad at writing. Just because Mingi said no doesn’t mean that you’ll never feel deeply again. It just means that you need to keep trying.

“Oh, um… Thank you.” You’re not sure what else to say. There honestly isn’t much else to say, so you give him a short nod and head towards the stairs. You think that you’re going to head back to the dorm and cry on your bed, which is stripped of its duvet and most of the pillows. You think that you’re going to ask if you can have this class added back to your schedule. You think that you might speak with Hongjoong more often once your break is over. 

And sure enough, your spring semester begins with Hongjoong walking you across campus and to your second level creative writing class. The month away seems to have done good for the both of you, Hongjoong returning with dozens more customized clothing items and you with slowly disappearing eye bags. His hair is also faded into a lighter pink shade, which you think suits him quite well. 

Your walk to class is uneventful, riddled with small talk and basic catching up. Near the end he slips his arm beneath your book bag and around your waist, which feels nice enough. His arms are stronger than you expected. The half embrace is not unwelcome. When you two are standing outside of the quickly filling classroom he takes your hands into his own for a brief moment before asking if you’re free for coffee after class. You want to make up an excuse for why you can’t go, because you know that this isn’t just two friends going for coffee, but when you look at Hongjoong there are sparkles in his eyes. Pink hair tickles his cheekbone as he smiles warmly at you, and you find yourself thinking that his confidence right now is commendable. You also find yourself saying yes, you can definitely get coffee with. 

It’s a fun outing. He cracks a few jokes, you talk about class. He asks if you have any assignments and you say not yet. When he orders an iced coffee you ask if he’s trying to get frostbite, to which he laughs and pokes out his tongue. You think that he looks cute. You think that all of this is kind of cute. 

You also think that when you’re with Hongjoong, and he’s making you laugh and holding your waist, it’s very easy to forget about how badly you miss Mingi. 

*

When you agreed to re-enroll in your creative writing class you and your professor exchanged a number of emails. First about how you could improve your grade, then about how to improve your writing, then countless of other questions with ambiguous answers before the two of you finally settled on having weekly meetings. It would be sort of like he were your personal advisor, but only for writing. You would come into his office once a week to discuss your current project and he would read it over, ask if you had concerns, usually give some feedback. 

Within the first week it was clear what your most reoccurring critique would be. It was a mantra echoed many times, ‘To write life you have to live it.’ He said that your writing was good, pretty, but the characters lacked life. Then he asked if you could try to spend a little more time with people. It didn’t have to be much, but he was convinced that a bit more people time would improve your writing greatly. 

It’s been a month or so since that first meeting, and you weren’t sure if you agreed yet. You were spending almost everyday with Hongjoong, sometimes Seonghwa as well. You were definitely more tired each time you came home, but you also smiled more. Laughed more, too. They would often ask you for help with silly things, like the time that Hongjoong called you at midnight because he needed help touching up his hair, Seonghwa often asked you to mix his paints. It often felt like you were their third roommate, but it was okay. You had fun. 

Yet you didn’t see much improvement in your writing. There were still notes in red ink on your paper. You weren’t sure of the remedy you should apply, but more people time seemed like it wouldn’t hurt. So you set up daily lunches with Yeosang and Jongho, which was an interesting dynamic to say the least. Jongho would sit down most days and chug an entire reusable cup of green tea with soy milk before getting lunch, to which Yeosang would furrow his eyebrows and comment ‘I don’t know how he drinks that.’ Usually the younger boy would talk animatedly with you about classes then he’d ask if Yeosang had anything going on. Your dark haired friend would look up from his half inhaled plate of food with deep set eye bags and say that he had at least three papers to write. One time you asked if he was okay, but he just laughed and blamed it on his major. After that your writing seemed to improve greatly, at least according to your professor. He told you that it was starting to come alive much quicker. The only thing he had left to say was that your more gentle characters needed work. He said that they needed to be more than just gentle.

Running into Yunho in the library after that meeting was pure coincidence. You were headed to the back to start cracking down on some of your more challenging classes, namely entrance level biology, yet when you dropped your bag on your usual study table you noticed someone was already there. 

“Oh, I’m sorry! I’ll just-”

“(Y/n?)” He asked while turning to face you. It suddenly hit you that the last time Yunho had seen you was while you were at your absolute worst. Not sleeping, or eating, or talking to anyone but yourself. You don’t know if he’s going to let that version of you go. You only know how badly you want him to. 

“Yea, it’s me.” The words tug on your vocal chords so you cough lightly in an attempt to clear them, “How are you doing?” He twirls the blue gel pen in his hand for a moment before responding.

“I’m okay. The usual kind of busy, my room’s been messy lately. Just normal stuff.” Quiet settles over your conversation so that you’re left standing awkwardly in front of his neatly organized table. You’re not sure why you can’t bring yourself to speak, but you are sure that it has something to do with the fleeting thoughts of the boy that Yunho’s sharing that messy room with, “What’re you working on?” He asks, motioning with his gel pen to the stuffed folder in your hands.

“O-oh just some biology stuff, I have a quiz next week so…” Before you can say otherwise he’s clearing off a spot on the table and telling you to pull up a chair. He helps you with pretty much every half finished assignment. He even adds extra cheat codes onto your flash cards in crisp blue ink. As you’re leaving the library to get dinner with Hongjoong he tells you to meet him back here after your quiz.

“After all, I’d like to know how my best student is doing.” Weekly study sessions honestly come about naturally. He insists that he’s beyond happy to help, and you’re beyond happy to observe him. Listening to him talk is your favorite part. He’ll ramble on about a lab or being worried that someones going to steal his bike from in front of the dorms. He tells you that he thinks Hongjoong will ask you out, you tell him that you know. He says that your handwriting is pretty, you thank him. When he talks about things that make him angry his words are gentle and calculated, so as not to hurt people that aren’t even present. Needless to say, the red ink marks are few and far between after factoring this newfound knowledge into your pieces.

But you think that it’s a bit more than that too. For the first time in… Ever, you think, you’re happy. Not in a fleeting way that depends on strawberry ice cream eaten on Friday nights. You’re happy in a way that’s hard to tumble, and you’re happy in a way that’s without Mingi. You never thought that you would be happy without Mingi. All throughout high school you feared this very thing, having to live without him and be okay with it. Now that you’re doing it, it’s not all that scary.

You still see Mingi around campus from time to time, in curls of chestnut hair and broad shoulders. Sometimes when you’re walking to class with Hongjoong you can hear his laugh bouncing from the surrounding buildings. Part of you wonders if you’re just conjuring him up. Part of you wonders when it’ll stop. 

Hongjoong does ask you out, just like Wooyoung, and Yunho, and everyone predicted. You say yes. You laugh with your friends until your sides hurt. You share kisses with your boyfriend. You start to feel excited about life in a way that you never have, and a part of you honestly wonders if this whole thing with Mingi was just a growing pain. Something that needed to happen in order for you to change.

The aching of your chest at night says otherwise. But believing as much is easier to stomach.

*

You’re relaxing at Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s house when a nerve is struck. You'd been sitting at the table chatting with Seonghwa while Hongjoong made himself something for lunch. It was really an accident, you had just been telling Seonghwa about your study session with Yunho when he got onto the topic about an awkward study date he had been on recently. You laughed as he recounted it and assured him that a study date was a cute first date.

“I’m sure it’s not as cute as whatever you and Hongjoong did.” And that’s when it happens. The chord is played, the line is written, and Hongjoong was looking at you with wide, apologetic eyes, “Y-you did have a good first date, right?” Your boyfriend said nothing, just bit his lower lip and returned his attention to the stove, “You’ve been dating for a month, you had to have had a first date. Right?”

“I’m sure that we will.” The tension that followed your meek statement was painstaking. First Hongjoong inhaled sharply through his nose, then Seonghwas mouth pressed into a thin line while his eyebrows raised. He muttered some nonsense about needing to get started on his painting for realism class. Apparently he was in such a rush to leave that he forgot that he wasn’t even taking a realism class, “Look, Joong we don’t have to-”

“Do you want a cutesy first date?” He asked, turning away from his food once again so that his eyes could bore into your own. You weren’t sure if his voice was stern in that moment or sincere, either way it was maddeningly effective.

“I mean… It would be nice.” He raised an eyebrow and nodded with his tongue in his cheek before returning to his food. Once it’s done and the fragrance is drifting from his workplace and towards the table, he takes the seat across from you. You’re about to say something but then he presses a swift kiss onto your lips.

“Then you, my darling, are getting just that.” 

A cutesy first date, with your sweet boyfriend who brings you tons of joy. It sounds great in theory, except for the fact that it’s been a week since your conversation and he still refuses to tell you when or where the date will be. Some may say that it’s romantic, but you say that it’s stressful. Pretty much every time that you leave your dorm room you end up seeing Hongjoong, so pretty much every time that you leave the dorm room you’re fully dressed and ready to go out. You’re starting to think that he’s finding joy in your suffering. It’s not too drastic of a belief, seeing as every time that you open your dorm room in a new outfit he giggles and whispers ‘cute.’ 

The miniature cat and mouse game finally comes to an end about a week and a half later, when he texts you Friday morning that you should wear something cute today and to be ready for pick up at five thirty. Though, the suffering doesn’t really end because in reality you spend the entire day raking through your closet for anything that could possibly make a cute outfit. There’s the cursed red plaid dress that you wore to that house party and awful confession oh so many months ago. You figured that was a no go, but honestly what else did you even have? There’s a uniform skirt that you bought while thrifting with Hongjoong, but you weren’t sure what shirt to wear with it. Your favorite jeans were in the wash so those obviously weren’t an option. It looked like it was going to have to be that dumb little dress.

But it’s not so bad, you manage to pair it with a black cardigan and the pair of leather boots that your mom got you for Christmas to replace the old ones. You also do more makeup than last time, so it really doesn’t look all that similar. When you look in the mirror before answering Hongjoongs knock you’re barely even thinking about the last night that you wore the dress. You’re thinking about tonight�� Mostly about tonight.

You open the door to see your boyfriend wearing a black button up and blue hair that catches you off guard. His hands are shoved cutely into his pockets, you can see his thumbs twiddling from inside his jean pockets. The moment that his eyes take in your frame his face breaks out into a wide smile. It’s a familiar smile at this point, he wears it around you constantly.

“You look amazing.” He says beneath his breath. You watch with twinkling eyes as he examines every one of your features, your smiles growing with each passing moment.

“You’re not too bad yourself.” You're not sure what to do past this point. He’s said that you look nice, you’ve internally fawned over his new hair that looks so incredibly soft, you’ve looked each other once or twice and smiled. You don’t know if you’re supposed to kiss him now, or hold his hand, or what. This is all quite new, “Um, should we get going?” He looks back at your face with a jump, as though your question had pulled him out of something. You’re going to ask what, but you aren’t quite sure how to get the words out. 

“Yes, yea! I-I’ll lead the way.” After five minutes of walking around your familiar campus you arrive at the shuttle. You’ve only taken it once or twice in your time here, mainly to get to Hongjoong’s house at the edge of campus, but you do know that on weekends it will take you into the nearby city. There’s only one seat left by the time that you get on, so of course Hongjoong let’s you have it and opts to stand instead. 

“You can sit if you want to.” He immediately shuts down your offer with a quick peck to your lips and a sweet giggle that you’ve grown to adore. 

“It’s our first date, I can’t have you thinking that I’m anything less than a gentleman.” If he weren’t so endearing you’d point out that you’ve been together for over a month. But he is endearing, so you only laugh and take hold of his hand. 

The date ends up being pretty much perfect. He takes you to a small cat cafe that’s tucked away on the downtown streets of the city, something that you didn’t even know existed until this very night. The inside is fully decorated in light pink with white lighting that highlights your adorable boyfriends features. He’s so sweet the whole time, smiling and letting the cats curl up in lap. The two of you share a piece of cake, he smears a little bit of the stiff frosting onto your nose. It’s cute. Sweet. You return to the dorm room with hot cheeks and a bashful grin.

“I had a lot of fun.” You say to him while leaning up against the doorframe of your dorm room. He smiles, but it’s different from the smile that you usually see. He’s usually so confident and sure of himself, but in this fleeting moment you can see unsureness in his features. It’s almost like he didn’t think you’d like the date.

“Yea?” You nod as quickly as he can ask. It’s not clear why, but you feel the need to assure him that you enjoyed your time together, “I’m glad. We could do something like this every week, you know?” 

The response isn’t as quick this time, or as adamant. You want to say yes. You had fun tonight, you enjoy spending time with Hongjoong, you want to say yes. But there’s something holding you back. It’s gentle, tugging on your heartstrings like a haunting winter melody. It tastes of strawberry ice cream, and smells of Song Mingi’s basement. You still remember the first time that he proposed a weekly movie night, all those years ago. You still remember how wanted it made you feel. At times you wonder if anyone will make you feel as wanted as Mingi did.

You’re starting to wonder that now, even as Hongjoong catches his thumb beneath your chin so as to tilt your chin up. The thoughts don't waver until your eyes meet, and you think that you’re probably right. No one will make you feel as wanted as Mingi; but Hongjoong does make you feel wanted. It’s not as overwhelming as Mingi. It’s not as safe as Mingi. It’s not as fateful as Migni. But it is there.

“What do you think? About the weekly thing, I mean. Like how does that sound?” Mingi was everything to you. In many ways he is still, but he’s also gone. Hongjoong is most things, but at least he’s here.

“It sounds lovely.”

*

You’ve spent a lot of time thinking in the past few weeks, pretty much ever since Hongjoong started with the dates. It’s mostly when you come back to your dorm after them and lay belly up on your loft bed, eyes glazing over the ceiling tiles that you’re pretending to count. Sometimes you think about Hongjoong, the way that his smile overpowers his face. The way that he laughs whenever he flusters you. The way he takes time out of his week to plan these cute little dates with you. Sometimes you think about Hongjoong. But most of the time you don’t. 

Most of the time you find your thoughts wandering far out of reach, and most of the time they wander straight into Song Mingi. It starts with thinking that you miss his presence, the way that he jumps to help anyone with anything. The way that his eyes shine each time you call out his name. You miss the way that he gives hugs, all warm and inviting. Some nights if you focus hard enough you can even remember the way that he smells. Orange zest and cinnamon.

If you’re honest with yourself, you know that this isn’t fair to Hongjoong. You like him well enough, but he adores you. He calls you darling and kisses you as though the action is sacred. He always walks you home after every date even though his own house is so far away. In theory, he is perfect. You’ve been dating for close to two months, you should be fully head over heels by now. But you can’t give that to him, and you know it. You also know that you can’t be alone again.

“Darling?” Hongjoong questions, pulling you away from your thoughts and back into the present. The two of you are cuddled into a far corner of the couch, midday sun pouring through the tall windows and landing across your boyfriend's face. You were watching the light dance in his eyes and talking about your latest creative writing meeting, but then he started talking about having another dinner party at the house. He said that it’d be like the one that he and Seonghwa hosted at the beginning of the school year, where you came with Mingi. It’s kind of funny honestly, because he regards that as one of the nights where he first started to like you. You regard it as one of the nights where Mingi first started to hate you, “Is everything okay?”

You should tell him no, because that’s the truth. You’re not okay. You don’t know if you’ll ever get over Mingi. You don’t think that you’ll ever love Hongjoong the way that he so clearly loves you. You shouldn’t lie to him. You should tell him no.

You also shouldn’t be alone again, right?

“Yea! I’m just tired. That’s all.”

*

In retrospect, you should’ve asked Hongjoong to not invite Mingi to this house party. It would’ve sounded odd, sure. As far he knew you and Mingi were still friendly. Had you requested that Mingi wouldn’t be invited you probably would’ve ended up having to rehash the entirety of your history. It would probably leave your boyfriend questioning whether or not you still had feelings for Mingi, a question that you’d have to lie through your teeth to answer. It would’ve been a little bit awkward, sure. But at least you wouldn’t be where you are now.

You fall gracelessly onto Hongjoongs unmade double bed, hands flying up to cover your flustered face. Mingi arrived at the off campus house nearly two hours after all of the other guests. There was an small window where you thought that you were safe, in which you took time to talk with San and Wooyoung while grazing over the cheese board that Seonghwa had set out. You felt like a true adult in that narrow window, the kind that works a nine to five job and deals with their problems. Then Mingi arrived. Two hours late.

You watched carefully as his eyes bounced around the room. They landed first on Yunho, who engulfed the boy in a warm hug before returning to his previous conversation. Then they traveled to the sectional couch in the living room where Seonghwa sat with Yeosang. He offered them a short greeting while walking through the living room, face crinkling with laughter at something that Yeosang had said. You find it comforting that after so much time apart his laughter hasn’t changed. He filtered naturally out of the conversation before moving to stand beside the tv. You watched his eyes move deftly across the open floor plan and began to wonder what he’s looking for so eagerly. Maybe it’s the girl from his math class. Maybe it’s someone entirely different. His gaze wandered and wandered, covering every corner that it could reach before finally landing. Before finally landing on you.

His eyes were piercing yet kind, stripping away the facade that you had previously believed. You aren’t an adult. You’re a little girl that got pushed off of her barbie bike and had to have a lanky preteen come to her rescue. You’re the idiot who lit dozens of tea light candles in her dorm room just to be turned away. It feels like you’re being stripped of your skin, but it also feels like you’re being reminded of yourself.

“Are you okay?” Jongho asked. You were so occupied with Mingi that you didn’t even realize he had joined. His question was sobering though, pulling you back to the harsh reality that you are okay. And you’re okay without Mingi.

“Yea, I’m fine.” You tore your focus back to the group in front of you, who were all staring at you. They clearly didn’t buy your answer, and you didn’t blame them too much. Anyone who didn’t know you could see that you were distressed, so clearly three of your close friends could tell, “I-I just realized that I have a paper due tonight. I’m gonna go finish it in Hongjoong’s room.” 

You now find yourself praying that Hongjoong won’t try to come and find you. You don’t know how to lie about this to him. You don’t know how to look him in the eyes and make up a reason for why you freaked out and left the party. By some terrible coincidence the door handle starts to jiggle. You want to say that you think through all of the possibilities of what you’ll say to him, but in reality there’s only one option of what you’ll say. The truth. If Hongjoong were to come into his room right now and ask what’s wrong you would have to tell him the truth. That you love Mingi.

“Hey honey, I had a paper to finish and-” The person that comes through the narrow doorway is much taller than your boyfriend. His shoulders are broader. The slope of his nose goes down further. Even from here you can smell brown sugar and oranges, “Oh. It’s you.” He looks handsome as ever. His cheeks may be a bit slimmer, the bags beneath his eyes are a bit deeper, but he still looks like Mingi. His face is still your childhood.

“Yea. It’s me.” Silence falls over the room, squeezing tightly around the chords of your throat to the point where you think that they’re going to break, “I-I just saw you come in here and-”

“I have a paper.” He swallows harshly, hands shoving into his pockets as his eyes stay glued to the floor. You find that bit funny, seeing as when you were outside he wanted to look nowhere but you.

“Right. A paper. I’ll leave you to that, then.” He’s moving to leave, and in that moment you know nothing. You’re not entirely sure what your name is, or where left is in relation to right, but you do know one thing. You don’t want Mingi to leave. You don’t want him to leave. He’s barely been here for two minutes. You haven’t said a single thing that you wanted to say. He can’t leave.

“Wait!” The boy stops in his tracks before turning. His eyes finally meet yours again, they’re  questioning and so gentle that you almost think things could go back to normal, “I don’t have a paper due tonight. Well, I do but I did it two days ago. It’s just that when I saw you I-I… I panicked. Probably because we haven’t seen each other in months. Probably because I really, really, miss you.” Your eyes are slowly becoming tearful, but you really don’t want them to be. You’ve shed so many tears over this relationship. You should be able to do this. The fact that he’s not saying anything doesn’t make it any easier, but still. You should be able to do this, “You don’t have to say anything, I guess, but I-I’m glad that I said it. You were my best friend, I’ll always think of you in that way. I know that we’ve both said… Things, and I get that you might not be able to move past that, but I’m willing to. If it means that we can be friends again, I’m willing to.” Your eyes somehow became glued to your twiddling thumbs over the course of your speech. You don’t think that you’re going to move them, until you feel a pair of strong arms embracing you. He smells so good, like he always does. This one hug feels like all of the comfort that you’ve craved for the last six months. Like the comfort that only Mingi can bring you.

“I’ll move past it. I-I’ve missed you too.” His voice is low, crackling like a fresh log that’s been thrown into the fireplace. You spend the following two hours in Hongjoongs room. You’re curled up on the bed and he’s in front of the disheveled desk. It’s dodgy, you know that it is, but something about really being here with Mingi makes you forget about all of that mess. It’s much easier to forget about it. You eventually return to the party, floating in between conversations with all of your friends. It’s nice to not have to avoid Mingi. At one point Hongjoong joins your conversation with Mingi, San, and Wooyoung. He puts an arm around your waist, which you should enjoy. You would like to enjoy it, but your mind is slightly preoccupied. 

“Where’d you go earlier, darling?” He whispers into your ear halfway through a drawn out story that San is sharing. He’s always been awful at telling stories, but he gets so excited that everyone lets it slide. 

“Oh! I just had a paper that I needed to finish, so I went and did that in your room.” He wants to ask why you had to do that with Mingi, but then the other boy starts to laugh and he knows the answer. Based entirely off of the way that you look at him, Hongjoong knows. 

Once everyone has left and you’ve all shared your goodbyes, Hongjoong suggests that the two of you clean up the living room together. It was an hour or so of silence before he brought up the elephant in the room. 

“I’m not it for you. Am I?” You don’t know why you thought he’d be angry with you. Probably because he’d have every reason to be so. But this is Hongjoong. You could single handedly send the world into ruin and Hongjoong still wouldn’t get mad at you. 

“I really want you to be.” You’ve stopped cleaning now, hands lying limp over the small stain that you were previously scrubbing off of the couch. Getting dumped isn’t going at all how you always thought that it would. It doesn’t feel like your heart is being trampled. You don’t have the compulsive urge to cry. No, none of that. It just feels like you’re explaining away a weight that’s been on your chest for months, “Does that make sense?”

“I think that you wish you wanted me. I think that you wanted me more than you wanted to be alone.” He’s started to play with the strings of his hoodie in a hopeless attempt to calm his raging heart, “But you’re not alone anymore, are you?” You could pretend that you don’t know what he’s talking about. You could deny it, but in reality there’s no point to any of that. It would only prolong all of this, so you nod, “Yeah. Thought so.”

When you say goodbye to him he hugs you tighter than usual, you think for a minute that he’s going to tell you something else. He doesn’t. Just kisses your forehead and says to get home safely. You do, it’s a mere twenty minutes before you’re tiptoeing into your dorm room and up the ladder to your bed. It almost gets to the point where you pretend to count ceiling tiles, but then your phone buzzes from beneath your pillow. It’s a text from Mingi, a short and sweet message.

‘I’m glad to be your friend:)’ 

It’s probably stupid, seeing as the night ended on a terribly sour note, but those few words and that silly emoticon makes it feel like this entire year has been worth it. Because you have Mingi again, and there’s no way that you’ll lose him this time around.

*

After the breakup with Hongjoong, you were slightly worried that no one would want to be friends with you anymore. It would certainly be a fair decision on their part, seeing as you were beyond awful as a girlfriend. You thought that in Hongjoong’s healing, he would end up telling some of the worst things that you did to some of the people whose opinions matter the most. You’re not sure why you thought that, perhaps because it’s what you would’ve done if someone did this to you.

You’re more immature than he is, though. Hongjoong handles his feelings with grace. His words are unbelievably careful whenever he shares them, or at least that’s what Seonghwa says. He also says that he misses having you around to mix his paints and clean his brushes. You had told him that you were just glad that he still likes you, even if the wounds were only a month old.

There was also the ever present worry that Mingi would ask why you and Hongjoong split. You’ve thought of plenty of fake reasons, like saying that the two of you didn’t really click. Or you could keep it simple and say that it just wasn’t the right time for either of you. The options were endless, but there was the problem of Mingi being able to read you like an open book. He would surely know that you’re lying, possibly before you even opened your mouth. The main risk involved was whether or not he’d pester you for the truth. 

That constant fear was not helpful for a regrowing relationship, to say the least. You’ve hung out a number of times since reuniting, but he would always ask you about what you did in the months that you spent apart. Obviously, mentioning the end of first semester was strictly off limits. The rest of the time you spent with Hongjoong, so that left very little room for conversation. You would mostly end up talking about your creative writing meetings, which was fine. It was just sparse.

But this weekend would be different. The two of you had made plans nearly two weeks ago to carpool home together after spring midterms for the long weekend. Your immediate response was to panic, because what on earth would the two of you talk about for the hours that it took to drive home? How would you possibly avoid talking about any of your life for the past four months for that long? But as the days drew closer you realized that maybe it wasn’t such a big deal. The two of you used to go on fun drives constantly, and most of the time you’d barely talk at all. This would be fine. You could manage this.

He picks you up an hour after the exams are concluded, and much to your gratitude there’s music already blaring from each of the speakers. He motions through the window for you to put your bags in the backseat, which you do before sliding into the front seat of his car. 

“Hey.” He’s looking at you with a soft smile when he says this, the gentleness of his face juxtaposed against the disney channel music blaring from the speakers is enough to make you laugh. So you do, the sound falling from your lips in a way that reminds Mingi of how dearly he missed it.

“Hi.” You stare at him for a minute, and he stares back. You find yourself thinking that all of this is mighty odd. Just two months ago you didn’t think that you’d ever have the strength to talk about Mingi again, now the two of you are sitting in the same car, “We’re listening to High School Musical?” He laughs too, passing his phone into your lap while shaking his head of brown curls.

“For now yes, you can change it if you’d like.” If you didn’t know him then you would’ve missed the twinkle in his eyes which indicated that he was going to continue, “Only if it’s Hannah Montana, though.” 

The ride was full with playful banter and off key high notes. Each time Mingi would go to hit one he’d tilt his head back ever so slightly, the brake lights of the car in front of you catching on the delicate lines of his adams apple as he did so. You would laugh until you had to clench your stomach then chastise him for not keeping his eyes on the road. He never once tried to ask about what you’ve been up to, or ask about Hongjoong. In a way, you almost forgot about it for the long hours that it took to drive into your hometown. Mingi seemed to have that effect, like walking through a museum of all of the things that he made you feel for the beginning of your lifetime. Comforted. Carefree. Joyful.

The car slows down then turns, and even if you weren’t looking up you’d know exactly where this car was headed. It’s the place that you spent every late friday night, the place where burgers couldn’t be served without a milkshake on the side, the place where Mingi first knew that he would always love you no matter how hard he ran from it. The chrome on the outside of the diner looks exactly the same, and when you peer through the windows it’s even more familiar. Red cushioned seats, a jukebox in the corner, salt and pepper in mismatched porcelain dispensers on each table. It feels like you’re coming from a football game with sweaty hair and a quickly beating heart. It feels like you’re still a kid.

“Are you hungry?” You ask teasingly as Mingi turns off the car and undoes his seatbelt. He runs a hand through his hair, laughing lowly.

“More like thirsty, milkshakes on me?” You know how this is going to end. You know what paying for food and offering up rides indicates. You know that this could crash and burn and leave you utterly devastated for months. But you also know that you’ve changed. That you’re finally done living a loveless life in honor of your own comfort. You think that he’s changed too, less bitter now. You’re both finished with hurting each other, so maybe it could end up hurting exactly the way that it did last time. Maybe it’ll end up working out. The fact of the matter is that you’ll never know what falling feels like unless you jump.

“Milkshakes on you.” You respond with a purely happy smile. He smiles too, the kind that breaks across his entire face until it can’t possibly get any bigger. You’ve missed that smile so much, “Hongjoong and I broke up by the way. I’m sure that you already knew that, but I wanted to tell you myself.” He nods once, then purses his lips, then begins to play with his own fingertips. It’s too early for you to get a read on him, but you do think that he already knew. You also think that he’s trying to hide his happiness.

“Thank you for telling me.” He pinches his lips shut and swallows before continuing, “Are you okay?” He reaches out to hold your hand before he can even think about it, but it doesn’t seem to make you uncomfortable. You take his hand and squeeze it gently then slowly set it back down to lay on his thigh.

“I’m fine. I’ll be even better once I get a milkshake.” 

Conversation flows more naturally after that, the both of you talking about nothing and everything at the same time. He tells you about the time that Yunho made a hotdog explode in their microwave. You share one of your many anecdotes from lunch with Yeosang and Jongho. He asks about what you’ve been writing lately and so you tell him briefly about your work in progress and the meetings with your teacher. The entire time while you’re talking he beams at you with pride. You had always loved writing so much.

You finish your milkshakes and he tips the waitress extra. You drive the remainder of the way to your house, Hannah Montana still blaring from his speakers. It’s unbelievably stupid and childish, but at the same time it’s absolutely perfect. He pulls into your driveway and lets out a heavy sigh, hands smacking against the steering wheel.

“Well. You’re home!” He doesn’t really want you to go, despite having driven all this way specifically to watch you leave. Something about the look in your eyes, and the fact that it’s directed straight at him, makes him think that you don’t want to leave either. 

“I’m home.” You unbuckle your seatbelt and get out of the car before Mingi can even think of another thing to say. He maneuvers a bit in his seat so that he can see you as your picking up your stuff and think of something to say, “Thanks for the ride, I’ll-”

“Do you want to start up movie nights again?” He wasn’t exactly planning on asking you that, but he was planning to ask if you could spend more time together. It’s been so long without you that he wants to spend as much time with you as possible, “In my room, on Saturdays. And I’ll never stand you up or reschedule at the last minute.” Your heart is hammering, you don’t even bother to pretend that you don’t know why. The boy in front of you is stammering and over explaining and turning red in the face, and you are terribly in love with him.  

“I’d like that very much.” With that simple agreement, it feels as though the entire world has been set back into place.

*

You didn’t realize how much junk a dorm room could accumulate in the span of a year until it was time to clean all of it out. There were schedules to peel off of the walls, clothes to dig out from the back of the closet, phone chargers that had fallen behind night stands. It’s weird to look at it now, with all of the homeliness and personality stripped away. Next year there will be two entirely different people sleeping in the loft beds, which you admittedly grew used to. Maybe they’ll be strangers. Maybe they’ll be best friends.

“That’s the last box.” Mingi enters the emptied room right as your eyes move to the empty bed that had been adjacent to yours for the entire year. Your roommate had left early this morning, her things had been packed for weeks already. The two of you never grew any closer to one another, but you didn’t mind. Coexisting with her felt like one of your many growth challenges throughout this year, “You missing your roommate?” Mingi asked with a cocked eyebrow, making you realize that you’re still staring at her stripped bed.

“No, not really.” Your voice comes out so matter of fact that it makes Migni giggle a little bit. He thinks that it’s nice to see you, who was once so meek and quiet, being adamant about not caring for someone, “I’m grateful for her though. I didn’t think that I’d be able to live with a stranger before this year. I didn’t think I’d be able to do lots of things before this year.” You finally move your eyes to the boy standing at your side to see that he’s staring at you with a proud smile. It makes your chest swell with warmth in a way that you don’t even fight against, “What?” You can’t help but break out into a smile as you gaze even longer at his.

“Nothing, I’m just really proud of us. Who we’ve become, especially you.” His pinky finger brushes up against your own, for a moment you can feel his hand aching to hold your own. You open up your palm and lace your fingers into his, moving with certainty and purpose, “I like who you are now, you’re a lot bolder. Happier.” Your body flushes with heat, heart pattering so erratically that you’re sure he can hear it. You hope that he does. 

“I-I like you now too.” Your voice wavers as his hand travels to your wrist, pulling you gently so that you’re facing each other. His face looks stern, like this moment is do or die, yet his eyes sparkle with the same childlike twinkle as always. You watch his eyes travel from your own to your lips in a mere second, breath hitching in the back of your throat. You’ve waited for this for such a long time, but as his nose brushes ever so gently against yours you find yourself thinking that it was worth it, “May I?” The question is whisper, your breath ghosting against Mingi’s plump lips. You place your hand on his chest so that his heart is thumping beneath your hand. 

“Yes.” You hook your free hand beneath his chin and bring his face closer to yours so that your lips are finally touching. It’s nothing but a gentle brush at first, both of you timid and overly careful, but as soon as you try to pull away his hands are on your waist and pulling you closer than you thought was possible. He kisses you with fever, hands gripping you as though he’s scared that you might melt away. You bury your fists into his shirt, trying desperately to let him know that he never has to worry about that again. 

He pulls away after sometime, hands moving to hold your face as he rests his forehead on yours. He says nothing, only brushes his thumb against your cheek and smiles. In the quiet moments, you can make out the blurred lines of a future, one that’s spent in a modest apartment that’s decorated with all of the junk that Mingi just hauled downstairs for you. You can see late nights spent writing at a desk that’s full of his trinkets. You can see weekly movie nights on the couch with blankets and twinkling fairy lights. You can see a life that’s lived with love and passion, a life where pains are forgotten and growth is left in their place.

When he smiles at you and goes in for a second kiss, your eyes flutter closed. Yet you still see it all so clearly. You can see a future, and you can see it with Mingi by your side.

[wayward-dreamer]

Life’s Lessons - Part 6

Title: Life’s Lessons - A Lesson in Starting Fresh

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean x Female!Teacher!Reader (eventual)

Other Pairings: Dean x Lisa, Female!Reader x OMC – Ethan (past, mentioned), Female!Reader x OMC – Mark

Word Count: 7,712 (messages, thoughts, lyrics in italics).

Part Summary: Y/N and Dean try to distract themselves from what happened the night before, despite the fact that they can’t stop thinking about each other. However, after an incident at school between Ben and another student, Y/N makes a difficult decision. Later, as she meets someone who could help her forget about Dean, he finds out what Lisa’s been hiding from him.

Warnings: Angst, Guilt, Alcohol consumption, Some fluff, Mentions of cheating.

Music: Good as Hell by Lizzo (playing in the background as Y/N gets dressed for girls’ night out), Starting Over by Chris Stapleton (Y/N and Mark scene).

Life’s Lessons Spotify Playlist

A/N: I loved reading all of your responses to Part 5, I’m so happy you guys loved it and were surprised and shocked! That’s what I live for hahaha! I hope you guys continue to enjoy this series as we move forward. It’s a bit of ride, but I promise the result is going to be worth it! Thank you so much for all of your support, it really means a lot. Happy reading and enjoy! :)

Life’s Lessons Masterlist 

The next morning brought cloudy skies, a gloom that matched the way Y/N was feeling as her eyes fluttered open. She turned her head and looked out the window, frowning as she saw the clouds in the sky. She loved the summer but now with fall settling in, the hopes for even one more day of warmth were over.

The thoughts of Dean hadn’t left her mind since the night before, as much as she tried to not think about him. The way he felt against her, his hard torso against hers, his calloused hands against her skin, the feeling of his muscles against her hands even through his shirt, his lips against hers… it had all stirred feelings within her that she wished she didn’t have for someone who was taken. She couldn’t do anything about the way she was feeling.

As she stood up from the bed and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, she couldn’t help but think about how much more complicated things had gotten. All because she couldn’t keep away from Dean.

She really was in trouble.

The shower turned on, wetting Dean’s hair as he tilted his head into the spray. The water flowed down his back, seeping into his skin. He closed his eyes and stroked the water through his hair a few times to get it soaked down to the scalp. He opened his eyes and stared at the tiled wall in front of him. He couldn’t stop thinking about what happened last night. The way Y/N felt against him, her smooth skin against his calloused fingers, her soft lips kissing his. He couldn’t get her out of his mind; being that close to her turning him on in ways he hadn’t been in a long time.

As Dean finished up in the shower and got dressed for the day, his mind was still on Y/N. However, guilt washed over him. He felt like he needed another shower. Maybe ten. It had been quite a few months since he and Lisa had been intimate in any way. The last time they even tried to start something up, she stopped him before anything could happen, saying she had lost the urge. He knew there were other ways to be close to someone but having been in a relationship for 3 years, and suddenly lacking a sex life in the last few months meant that he was incredibly frustrated. It had been a lot of time with his hand, in the shower or the bedroom when no one was around. He had never strayed however, and he wouldn’t, even if he had a moment of weakness with Y/N. He had stopped himself and he was going to make an effort with Lisa. Then maybe, just maybe, they could go back to the way things were.

Dean walked into the kitchen, seeing her and Ben laughing about some video on her phone, as they ate breakfast. He smiled as he saw her face light up. She was a beautiful woman, and anyone could see that. He cared very deeply for her, always had. It just never became more than that. He loved her but he wasn’t in love with her, but if they tried again, he knew that he could be.

He walked over and watched her lift her head to see him walking towards her. He leaned in and kissed her slowly on the lips, trying to see what her reaction would be. When she pulled away with a small smile, he tried not to feel too optimistic.

“Looks good” he said, as he sat down and piled several pieces of bacon onto his plate.

“It’s probably going to rain, so we can’t go to the park and swing a few bats” Ben informed him, sadly.

“Damn” Dean muttered as he looked out the windows and saw the grey skies. “That’s a shame.”

“I have to run a few errands, so you’re both welcome to join me” Lisa chimed in.

Ben groaned as he pushed the eggs around in his plate.

Dean snickered as he watched him. “Maybe I can call Sam. He’s not working on a case right now; we can drive into the city and all hang out at the big arcade. How ‘bout that?”

Ben’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Yeah, if it’s cool with your mom” Dean said, looking between him and Lisa.

“Sure” she smiled at her son.

“Yes!” Ben pumped his fist, eating his food properly now.

“Thanks” Lisa said as she looked at Dean, with half a smile.

Dean nodded as he tucked in.

It wasn’t much of a reaction, but he would take what little happiness he could get from her.

“Alright, go nuts” Dean told Ben, and watched the kid dash off into the arcade.

Dean turned to Sam and shook his head with a laugh, taking a sip from his beer. They both sat in the adjoining diner, watching Ben through the windows. While he was going crazy on all the games, Dean got the chance to talk his brother.

“How’s Eileen?” Dean asked, his fingers drumming against the bottle to the beat of the AC/DC song playing overhead.

“She’s good, a little tired, but good” Sam replied, taking a bite of his salad. “The new firm’s kicking her ass but she’s kicking theirs right back, so I’m proud of her.”

Dean smiled, albeit a little sadly as he saw how much his brother loved his wife. “That’s great, man.”

There was a moment of quiet as Dean kept picking at the label on the beer bottle, when Sam spoke up.

“I don’t know if I should ask this, but… how are things with Lisa?” Sam asked, tentatively.

Dean huffed, shaking his head. “Pretty much the same as always. If we’re not ignoring each other, we’re fighting about something. I’m trying to be a little more… I’m trying to get us back to some place closer to how we were but… I don’t know.”

Sam frowned, lines forming on his forehead as he worried over what Dean just said. “You’re sure you don’t want to just… end it before things get worse?”

“No” Dean said, too quickly. He looked out the window to see Ben playing Galaga. “I can’t do that to him.”

“Dean, what you and Lisa are doing is worse for him. This way, at least it’s a clean enough break and everyone can move on without too much damage” Sam explained, pushing his plate to the end of the table, finished with his meal.

“I know” Dean said, quietly.

“So, what’s the problem?” Sam shrugged. “Yeah okay, you had some good years, and that’s great but… you can try all you want to get those years back, it might not do anything. Lisa has been emotionally checked out from this for a long time now, and let’s face it, you are too. You’re both just in this for Ben.”

Dean took a swig of his beer but didn’t say anything.

“Dean, you deserve to be happy with the right woman, not miserable with the one who you thought was the right one” Sam said, leaning his arms on the table as he looked his brother.

“Sam” Dean groaned. “Just stop, okay?”

“But, Dean-” Sam started but Dean cut him off.

“You said what you had to say, alright? You made your point. Let’s move on” Dean said, his tone almost pleading.

“Okay” Sam whispered.

“Good” Dean muttered, picking up a few fries from his plate and shoving them into his mouth.

With his brother’s mind preoccupied with the food in front of him, Sam stared at Dean, seeing the turmoil written on his face. His brother was loyal to a fault, but he had seen for a while now how much this relationship was hurting him. He never listened to anyone, not him, their parents, his friends, about breaking up with Lisa. He always cited that Ben was the reason he needed to stay, but there was also another reason that Dean hated to admit to anyone, even himself. Sam could see it, though. His big brother was afraid of being alone.

Sam knew he couldn’t tell Dean to break up with Lisa any more than he already had. He had to realize that’s what he needed for himself, and maybe, he could find peace after it.

Later in the evening, Y/N laughed as she opened her door and walked into the house, Charlie following in behind her. They had just come back from a slasher movie, which hadn’t turned out to be very good, but you couldn’t expect a lot from a B grade film. That didn’t matter though, as they still got to enjoy lunch before that, and were just going to hang out now that they were at Y/N’s.

“God, that guy couldn’t act!” Charlie complained as she sank into Y/N’s couch. She kicked her converse off and brought her legs up. She had instantly made herself comfortable at her house, and Y/N couldn’t be happier with that.

Y/N continued to laugh, nodding as she agreed. “I know! And what about the scene where the axe went through his head? It totally didn’t connect!”

“Right?” Charlie shook her head, giggling.

“Alright, what are we drinking?” Y/N asked as her laughter died down and she walked into the kitchen.

“Whiskey” Charlie replied, quickly without thinking too much about it.

“Ooh, yes. Perfect for this weather” Y/N said, as she looked out the window at the light drizzle.

Y/N brought the bottle and two tumblers over, sitting next to her redheaded friend. She poured a couple of fingers in each and handed her one, clinking their glasses together. They both took a sip and Y/N sat back, smiling contently. It had been a good day, a nice distraction from her neighbor who she had feelings for. Her face must’ve changed when she thought about him for split second, because Charlie picked up on it.

“You okay?” she asked, curiously.

“Yeah” Y/N huffed with a small laugh. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just seem like something’s on your mind” Charlie shrugged.

Y/N looked away from her and sighed. She was going to flip when she told her.

“I… went over to Dean’s for dinner last night” she started, waiting to get to the point.

“Nice. I hope Lisa was a bit more open than last time” Charlie commented.

Y/N bit her lip nervously, before letting it go. “She… she wasn’t there.”

One of Charlie’s eyebrows lifted up. “Okay…”

“We, uh… we had a great time. We talked a lot about his family, about mine. I… I told him about Ethan” Y/N told her, staring into her glass at the amber liquid.

“Wow” Charlie breathed out. “How did that go?”

Y/N smiled as she thought back to how he told her she was the strongest person he knew. She didn’t feel like she was, but just knowing that he thought that about her made her feel like she could be.

“It went well. In the moment I thought about against telling him, but he just… he made me feel so safe that I told him a little of it” Y/N said, the soft smile still on her face. “Not everything just yet, but I trust him and maybe I can tell him more, eventually.”

Charlie stared at her, knowing her new friend was falling for one of her old friends was incredible to see, but she didn’t want her heart to get broken by the situation at hand.

“Y/N… I’m glad you felt the confidence to tell him. I’m even more happy that he made you feel safe to open up, but… but you have to tread lightly here” Charlie said, carefully.

“I know” Y/N agreed.

“It’s my fault, really. I told you about Dean and Lisa’s relationship, but that was only because of what you said happened at dinner here-” Charlie said, but cut her off.

“It’s okay, Charlie, really” she reassured her, taking her hand in hers. “I know why you told me that. Believe me, I know. It’s just…”

“What?” Charlie knew there was something she wasn’t telling her.

Y/N sighed in defeat. “We kissed.”

“What?!” Charlie yelled, sitting forward as she stared wide eyed at Y/N.

“We had a great time, we were laughing, and he made dessert, and… fuck, it just happened” Y/N shook her head, saying it out loud made it more real, and made the guilt flood in again.

“Y/N!” Charlie yelled.

“I know!” Y/N yelled, burying her face into the couch cushions. “I’m a shitty person.”

“No, you’re not” Charlie told her, helping her off the couch cushions. “We just can’t let that happen again.”

“And I won’t” Y/N vowed. “I think it’s out of my system in the crappiest way possible, and it’s done now. Even if it was the best kiss of my life… I’m done.”

“Really?” Charlie asked, in awe of the statement she just made. “The best of your life?”

Y/N nodded, sheepishly. “It was like… like I was always meant to be there, with him.”

A silence fell as the two friends looked at each other, before Charlie spoke.

“I hate to say it, but… I think that’s where it has to end” Charlie said, as gently as she could.

“I know” Y/N nodded, firmly.

On those final words, the friends moved away from talking about it. Y/N knew that what happened last night couldn’t happen again. It would be hard to let him go, but she had to. She wasn’t going to break up a family. That’s not the kind of person she was. She had a moment of giving in, but it was done and dusted. Swept under a rug, never to see the light of day again. From that point forward, it would be strictly professional. She was Ben’s teacher and that was it. She may be their friendly neighbor, but she couldn’t be Dean’s friend.

She couldn’t have another moment to give into.

Dean smiled as he sipped his beer while sitting on the couch, watching Ben recall the day’s events to his mom. They had a great time with Sam at the arcade, playing all the games and eating junk food. After a while, Ben retreated to his room and Dean knew he’d been listening to his music before going to bed.

Dean walked into the bedroom after finishing his beer, watching Lisa get changed into her pyjamas. He moved up behind her after she took her top off, wrapping his arms around her waist. He leaned down, placing kisses along her shoulder.

“Dean” she said, a slight laugh bubbling up from her. “Stop.”

“Oh, come on, Lis. Ben’s in his room, probably has his headphones on” he said, between planting kisses on her shoulder. “We haven’t in a while…”

“Dean, please” she said, as she pulled away from him. However, when she turned around, she looked a little annoyed. “Maybe… maybe another time.”

Dean was surprised by that, considering she laughed a little when he came up behind her. “Yeah. Okay.”

She moved away from him, walked into the bathroom and shut the door, locking it.

Dean sighed as he changed into a pair of sweatpants and a black t-shirt. He left the room and into the living room, turning the lights off. He dropped his phone on the coffee table and laid down on the couch. It was a familiar feeling as he had done this a few times over the last year. Considering things didn’t go the way he thought they would tonight, he knew it was better to stay away for now. He pulled the throw blanket over himself and closed his eyes.

After some time, he opened them. He wasn’t going to sleep. He lifted his head and looked at the clock on the wall, the time reading 10.30pm. It wasn’t late for him, as he usually fell asleep in the AM on a weekend. He picked up his phone and started scrolling through different things, before an idea came to him. Hopefully she wasn’t asleep yet.

Y/N sat up in bed, reading, the bedside lamp provided the light she needed as it bathed the room in a warm glow. She pushed her red glasses up the bridge of her nose when she felt them falling, flipping the page. Charlie had left an hour ago, which gave her some time to herself and the ability to lose herself in her latest read. As she read, her phone chimed. She frowned, wondering who could be texting her at this hour. She thought it must be Charlie, wanting to tell her some funny anecdote, but her eyebrows furrowed as she picked up her phone from the bedside table and looked at the screen.

Dean: Any chance you’re free tomorrow? We need to talk.

She sighed as she placed her book down next to her and typed out her response.

Dean frowned as he saw what she had written.

Y/N: I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Dean.

Dean: We can’t just ignore what happened, Y/N.

She shook her head. She couldn’t be pulled into this again. She had no desire to talk about it, choosing instead to forget about it and make sure it never happened again.

Y/N: I think that’s exactly what we need to do. Forget it happened. Goodnight, Dean.

Dean looked down at the message and shook his head. How could he forget when she was constantly on his mind? He was trying, had been trying all day, but the fact was he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He couldn’t deny he had developed feelings for her. He told himself he would try with Lisa, but would it do any good? He just needed to talk to Y/N and see whether they were on the same page or capable of getting there, and then go from there.

He decided to put his phone and sleep on it. Maybe things would be clearer in the morning.

Monday quickly rolled around, and Y/N was thankful. School was a good distraction from the drama in her life, even if Ben was there. She was going to have her 8th graders after lunch, so as she ate, she had enough time to look over what she needed to do for class. She was in the middle of reviewing her lesson plans when she heard someone call out her name. She looked up and saw Chuck walking towards her.

“Hey, Y/N, can we talk for a minute?” he asked, politely.

“Sure” she replied, but slightly nervous as she didn’t know what this is about.

As she followed him into his office, she sat down across him as he sat at his desk.

“Don’t worry, it’s not anything to worry about” he assured her, when he saw her looking like a deer in headlights. “I just wanted to ask you how things have been going.”

She sighed in relief, a smile appearing on her face. “Things have been great. Challenging, but I think I’ve handled it.”

“That’s great to hear” he returned her smile. “I’ve had some calls from parents telling me how much their kids have liked you, so all I can say is keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Thanks, Mr. Shurley” she said.

“Ah” he waved a finger at her.

“Sorry” she laughed, slightly. “Chuck.”

“You’re welcome” he said with a small nod.

She quickly left his office with a smile on her face. Hearing that from Chuck was exactly what she needed today. It was the reassurance she needed that coming to Lawrence was a good decision. It was a reminder of why she came here, for this job and to inspire these kids, not for any unnecessary situations outside of school. She really just had to put her head down and do what she needed to and forget about Dean. Even if he did live across street from her, right now, he couldn’t exist.

As she walked from the staff room to the classroom after lunch, she watched kids file into the rooms, ready for the next period. She smiled as she turned the corner, ready to see her students but it dropped the minute she entered the room.

Ben and another student, Tommy, were roughly pushing each other back and forth, some of the other kids in class yelling for them to stop, while others yelled for them to keep going. She quickly dropped her things on the desk and rushed over, attempting to pull them apart.

“Stop it, stop it right now” she said, her teacher voice louder than usual. “Ben, Tommy – STOP!”

She got in the middle, either hand on the boys’ shoulders, watching them breathe heavily as they glared at each other. She thought about sending them over to Chuck’s office, but they’d probably kill each other on the way over.

“You two, sit down right now. We’re going to Mr. Shurley’s office straight after class” she said, sternly.

The rest of the kids were timid for the rest of the class. She had rearranged some of them so that Ben and Tommy were sitting as far away from each other as possible. Things were tense through the whole period, but she was glad that once it was over, Ben and Tommy stayed in their seats as the other kids filed out.

“So, who wants to tell me what happened before we head over to Mr. Shurley’s office?” she asked, looking between both of the boys.

Tommy stared down at the desk, refusing to speak. Y/N knew he wasn’t going to say anything and looked over at Ben. He looked at her with a mournful yet angry look. Clearly it was something bad.

“Tommy was making fun of me, that Dean’s not my real dad, that I don’t know who my dad is” he told her, side eying Tommy.

Y/N’s heart sank into her stomach. This was worse than she thought.

She nodded, calmly standing up from her desk and walking over to Ben. “Tommy, make your way to the Principal’s office, please. You can explain to him why I sent you, and that Ben and I are on our way.”

Tommy rolled his eyes as he got up from the desk, slinging his backpack over his shoulder as he walked out. She was going to be there soon, so he knew he didn’t have a chance to escape.

Y/N took a chair and placed in front of Ben’s desk, sitting down across from him. After a few seconds of figuring what to say, she clasped her hands as she looked at him.

“I can’t imagine what it’s like to hear what Tommy said to you, Ben, but what I do know is that what you and Dean have is special. He cares a lot about you, and he treats you like you’re his, doesn’t he?” she said, pausing after she asked him a question.

Ben responded with only a nod.

“Then that’s all that matters. You know your relationship with Dean better than anyone, and what others have to say about it, doesn’t change the fact that you’re a family. That Dean’s your family” she explained, with a small smile at the end.

There was a brief pause before Ben finally spoke.

“I’m sorry that I’ve been quiet in class. It’s just weird seeing you around the neighborhood and our street, and then here, too” he said, looking up at her.

She was shocked. That wasn’t what she expected him to say.

She smiled, softly. “It’s okay, Ben. I’m sure it’s strange for me to be friends with Dean and your mom.”

She added Lisa in only for Ben, because she knew they were far from friends.

Ben shook his head. “No, not really.”

Y/N nodded. She was almost hoping he said it was strange, so that not being around Dean would be a bit easier.

“Alright” she said, standing up. “We better get over there.”

“Am I gonna get into trouble for pushing Tommy?” he asked, as he stood up and followed her.

She frowned, not sure what would happen. “Maybe an after-school detention at most, considering neither of you are seriously hurt.”

“Great” he said, rolling his eyes.

Sure enough, as they discussed everything in Chuck’s office, both Tommy and Ben were going to have to do after-school detention, which Y/N was meant to be supervising that day, coincidentally. Tommy apologized to Ben and then both of the boys were off to their next class, albeit slightly late, but Chuck had already informed the next teachers’ of why they would be late. Chuck told her that he’d call the parents as she left his office. She had literally been there a couple of hours ago, for some good feedback and now this happened. Talk about two ends of the spectrum. Though she had to be thankful nothing worse happened to either of the boys.

The length of time seemed to stretch on forever as Y/N waited for after-school detention to be over. There were couple of other kids in there with Ben and Tommy, who looked like he was ready to run as soon as the time was up.

All of them bolted as soon as she opened her mouth to tell them they could go. Ben gave her a small smile as he walked out of the room, which she returned. He was a good kid and didn’t deserve to be talked about the way he was, no kid did. She hoped it wouldn’t weigh heavily on him after this experience. She quickly packed her own things, putting on her dark grey coat over her dark grey A-line dress, with a deep red belt and collar. She was more than ready to go home herself.

Dean leaned against the Impala, waiting for Ben to come out of the school. He clocked off early to come and get him after he was done with detention, as Lisa was working late. She had called him and told him what happened, and now here was. He smiled as he watched Ben walk out and over to him.

“Hey” he said, putting an arm around him. “You okay?”

“Yeah” Ben nodded.

“Alright, well, you can fill me in on why you had to go to detention on the way home” Dean said, as he opened the car door.

As he was about to get in, he saw Y/N leaving the school, pulling her coat tight around her, protecting herself from the wind. His eyes followed the lines of her legs in her stockings and black heels, shaking his head of the thoughts that flashed through his mind.

“Hey, just wait here, okay?” he said to Ben.

“Sure” Ben replied, not really looking up at where Dean was heading off to, as he got into the passenger side.

Dean jogged up to Y/N, quickly catching up to her. “Y/N!” he called out and watched her turn around.

Y/N was shocked to hear his familiar voice call out to her. She didn’t expect to see him there and swallowed nervously. “Dean, hi.”

“Listen, I know you said that we shouldn’t talk about what happened, but I just… I have to know-” he started but she cut him off, shaking her head.

“You don’t have to say anything, Dean” she said, quietly, her emotions getting the better of her. She didn’t want to do what she was about to, but she had to. “It was a lapse in judgement for both of us. A moment of weakness that won’t ever happen again.”

Dean knew there was truth to her words but hearing them made his heart feel heavy. As much as he was trying in the last couple of days with Lisa, it hadn’t done much for his hopes that they would be fine again. He wanted to talk to Y/N and see if they could work something out.

“I just think-” he started but she cut him off again.

“No, Dean. Just don’t. You have a family. They’re the ones you should be thinking about, not me. That kid over there” she said and pointed to the car where Ben was. “He considers you his family, and I know you feel the same. I won’t break up a family, Dean. I just won’t.”

He looked between the car and her. She was right. He cared about Ben, and he was only in this relationship for him now. To be in his life. Did that mean he had to be miserable with Lisa forever, though? He didn’t know what to do.

“Do you regret it?” he needed to know if she felt the same way as him. He wished he hadn’t done it while he was with Lisa, but it happened. However, remembering how she felt against him… it felt right.

She shook her head, feeling tears prick her eyes. “No. And that’s the problem.”

She should’ve felt regret. She should’ve hated what she did. She felt guilty for it happening but at the same time, she couldn’t regret kissing him. She had never felt a connection like that with anyone she had been with.

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel guilty” she said, before pressing her lips together to keep them from quivering. “Ben’s a great kid. At the end of the day… I have to look out for him as much as you do. I’m not his parent but I am his teacher. I have a sense of responsibility to him.”

He felt a pang in his heart as she looked at him, tears threatening to fall.

“I know you have your issues with Lisa, and I want… more than anything, to say forget it all and take me in your arms, but I can’t. I shouldn’t be thinking about you in the ways that I do. I shouldn’t be thinking about what life would be like with you” she shook her head, everything just spilling out in a ramble of emotions.

“Y/N…” he whispered, slowly putting his hand on her shoulder. He wanted to tell her that he thought the same things.

She gasped, feeling the warmth of his hand radiate through her. She gulped and breathed in deep. She looked at him with a stony expression. She had to put her walls up and walk away. It was the only way to save herself from heartbreak and for him to not feel like crap for what happened.

“I’m… going to step back for a while. You’ll see me around, I know, but we have to pretend like nothing happened. You have to think of me as your neighbor, as Ben’s teacher, and that’s it. We can’t be friends anymore, Dean” she said, as a tear finally escaped and rolled down her cheek.

Dean’s eyes widened as he shook his head. “What? No. Screw that-”

She shook her head when he tried take her hand in his. “It’s too hard to be around you and not be with you, Dean.”

“Y/N” he said, finally getting close enough to her that he could take her hand in his and she couldn’t stop him. “Don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry, Dean. I have to. They’re your family and you care about them; I can see that. And I can also see that you care about Ben. So much so, that you’re willing to stay in this relationship for him” she said, smiling sadly. “You’re a good man, Dean. You’re loyal and you’re trustworthy, kind and loving… but at some point, you have to decide whether what you’re staying in this for is a good enough reason.”

Dean stared at her but didn’t say anything.

“It’s a big decision to make… but I can’t make it for you by continuing the way we have been. It isn’t fair to anyone.” Her voice cracked, slightly shaky but she managed to keep the rest of her tears at bay.

Dean shook his head as he looked at her. Everything she said made sense. Despite it, he couldn’t help but feel his heart sink at her words. Not being friends would feel weird, especially if he saw her around and couldn’t say anything to her. Maybe… maybe they needed this, though. He needed to give Lisa a chance without Y/N being a constant in his life. He told himself he would try, and now he had a proper chance to do so.

“It’s gonna be weird… not talking to you” he said, honestly.

She nodded, looking into his eyes. His beautiful eyes that she always lost herself in. “I know.”

“Take care of yourself, Y/N” he muttered, his jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowed.

“You too, Dean” she whispered. “Whatever you decide… just make sure you’re doing the right thing. For everyone.”

She looked at him one last time, and even though she probably shouldn’t have, she leaned in and softly kissed his stubbled cheek. It would probably be a mixed signal, but she couldn’t leave him there looking so sad.

As she walked away, Dean could feel a tingle on his cheek where she had imprinted her kiss, much like she had on his lips, previously. Watching her walk away made his stomach uneasy, feeling it churn as she got into her car. She would be right there across the street, and he wouldn’t be able to talk to her. He didn’t know how to process that as he walked back to the car where Ben was waiting for him.

When Y/N got into her car, she watched as Dean got into the Impala and drove off, the rumbling of the engine reaching her ears, even from this distance.

As she drove home, she knew she had to make peace with her decision. As much as she wanted to take it back, she had to let him go.

Once and for all.

2 weeks later…

Y/N sipped the last of her vodka martini, bopping her head in time to the music. Next to her, Charlie was doing the same. She was glad when Meg suggested they come out to the city for a night on the town, on Saturday night. She needed a night of good drinks, good music, and maybe even a little flirting.

It had been two weeks since she had talked to Dean in the school parking lot. In that time, she had barely seen him. Just once or twice as she left for work in the morning and so did he, and once when she was coming back from the grocery store. She had seen him with Lisa one night, coming back from what looked like date night. She was glad that things were going a bit better for them, but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt seeing them together.

Which is why when Meg had suggested they drive up to Kansas City to go to a bar she liked; Y/N jumped at the chance. As Lizzo serenaded her from her “Badass Women” playlist, she put on a black lace bodysuit and mini leather skirt that came to her mid-thigh, her black lace up heeled ankle boots, gave herself a smokey eye with lots of mascara look and a plum colored lip. She put a bit of wave in her hair, smiling at the way she looked. Charlie had whistled when she opened the door as shrugged on her long black coat, and she had laughed a little nervously when Meg told her she was “totally gonna get laid tonight.” It was her first time meeting the dark-haired woman in person, and she liked her instantly. She had like her even as they chatted over the phone, but it was different now. She seemed like a take-no-shit type of person, and Y/N liked that.

While she wasn’t expecting anything tonight, Y/N felt confident in the way she looked, having caught a few eyes on her already. Being here had given her a confidence she had been lacking back home, because of all the emotional and mental abuse Ethan had put her through. When Dean told her he admired her strength, that she was beautiful and an incredible person, it awoke something in her. She felt different. She didn’t need validation from anyone, but at the same time knowing that she was appreciated and loved by these amazing people she had met, gave her a new sense of belonging. She finally felt like she was exactly where she needed to be.

Meg pushed her way through the crowd of people, a tray of drinks in her hand. She handed her and Charlie their respective drinks, taking the Shirley Temple for herself, as she had made herself the designated driver.

“Y/N, there’s a group of guys over there, and I swore the blonde one is totally looking at you” she said, pointing discreetly over her left shoulder.

Y/N frowned and looked around, sure enough seeing 4 guys around a table like the girls were, the blonde one looking in their direction.

“He could be looking at you, you know. Or Charlie. I mean he doesn’t know you’re both taken” Y/N shot down the idea.

Charlie scoffed. “Yeah, right. All eyes have been on you tonight.”

“Go over there” Meg told her, her eyes lighting up.

“No” Y/N said, shaking her head.

“Do it or I will” Meg threatened, smiling wickedly.

“You wouldn’t, Masters” Y/N glared at her.

“Watch me, Y/L/N” she laughed as she quickly dashed off.

“Meg!” Y/N called out but she wouldn’t be heard over the music.

Charlie laughed as she took a sip of her drink.

Y/N shook her head at her and took a sip of her martini.

Y/N watched as Meg talked to the blonde guy and then pointed over at her. Y/N gulped nervously when she saw him nod. He was looking at her. Shit. Meg quickly walked back over.

“Girl, he’s so interested! Come on, please go over there” Meg was practically shaking with excitement.

Y/N sighed nervously. Was she ready for this?

It had been a year since she and Ethan had broken up. In that time, she had hooked up twice on two different occasions, back home. It had felt good to just have sex for the release she had needed, but it had been a while since she let herself feel something more for a man. Dean was the first one she had felt a strong connection to since Ethan, back when things were still okay with him. Even then, the pull she felt towards Dean was unlike anything she had ever felt. Not with Ethan, or any other boyfriends from the past.

What she felt for Dean… it still hadn’t fizzled out, as much as she tried to ignore it. Maybe this is what she needed though. To get over him.

She rolled her shoulders back and fixed her hair. “How do I look?”

“Sinful” Meg replied, simply.

She laughed, shaking her head at her new friend. “Okay. I’m going.”

Charlie grinned. “Go get him.”

Y/N hopped off the high-top stool and moved through the crowd. As she did, her Y/E/C eyes connected with his, and he flashed her a smile. She smiled back as she reached the table, his friends quickly excusing themselves. As she got closer and could see him properly in the dim lighting of the room, she saw that he had blue eyes. He was only a few inches taller than her because of her heels, unlike Dean who would tower over her no matter her footwear.

“Hey, I’m Mark” he said, offering his hand.

“Y/N” she took his hand and shook it. She didn’t feel a spark just yet from his touch like she had with Dean so instantly, but that was okay.

“I’ll be honest, I couldn’t stop looking at you all night” he laughed, sounding a little nervous.

She felt the heat rise in her cheeks, and it wasn’t from the alcohol. “Well, you’re not so bad yourself.”

“Let me get you a drink” he said, flagging down a waiter. “What’ll you have?”

“Vodka martini” she said, and watched the waiter walk away to get her a drink. She could’ve just gotten hers from her table, but he had offered to buy her one. She couldn’t say no.

“Thanks” she said, smiling at him.

“You’re welcome” he smirked.

“Do you live here in the city?” she asked, as the song overhead changed to something slower, making it easier to talk.

“Yeah. You?” he asked in return.

“Lawrence” she replied.

“So, what do you do, in Lawrence?” he wondered, smiling at her.

“I’m a teacher, 8th grade English” she smiled back.

“Wow, that’s great” he nodded, approvingly.

“What do you do?” she asked.

“I’m a copywriter, for an ad agency” he replied, handing her the glass as the waiter came back to them. He passed the waiter a few bills before he walked away.

She nodded, approvingly, too. “That’s amazing.”

“Not as glamorous as you would think, though” he laughed, slightly.

“Ah, so nothing like a modern version of Mad Men?” she joked.

He laughed loudly, shaking his head. “Definitely not.”

With a break in conversation, Y/N drifted off as the song that started while they were talking, continued. The words hit her as she thought about her life back home, and the life she was making for herself now, starting over in Lawrence. The song spoke of a person to start over with, and while she longed for that someone to be Dean, she knew it couldn’t be.

It don’t matter to me

Wherever we are is where I wanna be

And, honey, for once in our life

Let’s take our chances and roll the dice

I can be your lucky penny

You can be my four-leaf clover

Starting over

“Hey” Mark’s voice bringing her back to reality. “You alright?”

She smiled, nodding quickly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Just feeling the song, huh?” he asked, laughing.

“I guess” she shrugged.

They talked for a few more minutes before his friends came over and told him they were going to head out.

“I should probably go, too” he said, regretfully. He took out his phone and handed it to her. “Here, put your number in and we can talk some time. Maybe… maybe I can take you out some time?”

She smiled as she typed her number in. A flashback of doing the same thing with Dean’s phone passed through her mind, but she pushed it away. “Yeah.”

“It was nice to meet you, Y/N” he said, smiling.

“You too, Mark” she smiled back, biting her lip.

As he left, she sighed. He was nothing at all like Dean, as she had discovered through their initial conversation. They were completely different in their features, the way they dressed, and the way they talked. Maybe that was a good thing, though. Giving Mark a shot would be the best way to detach herself from Dean. He was adorably cute, and she liked their banter already.

Maybe Mark was what she needed to truly forget about her feelings for Dean.

Dean popped the last bite of his burger into his mouth, humming as the flavors exploded on his tastebuds. He leaned back and took a sip of his beer from the bottle, glancing around the diner. It was a favorite spot for him, Ben and Lisa and they used to come here quite often before things started going sour. Funnily enough, it was Lisa who had suggested they go out for dinner and go there.

Things had been slightly better with her these last couple of weeks. They had managed to have proper conversations without things getting out of hand, and he had even made her laugh a few times. There was still no dice in terms of sex, but he was hoping that would change tonight when they got back home.

Dean looked over at Lisa and Ben sitting across from him, currently having a slight disagreement over him playing games on his phone while they were out and eating dinner.

“Hey” Dean said, interrupting them. “Listen to your mom.”

“Fine” Ben said, rolling his eyes as he put his phone away. “Can I at least get a refill?” He shook his empty glass.

“Yes” Lisa said, smiling slightly.

Ben got up from the table and went and stood in line at the self-serve refill station.

“Thanks” Lisa said as she turned to look at Dean.

“No problem” he said, winking at her.

He smirked when he got a small smile out of her. He couldn’t believe how things were suddenly looking up for them, but he was relieved to not be fighting with her for a change.

Her phone chiming once, then twice got his attention as well as hers. She looked at her phone, but quickly pushed it aside.

“Something wrong?” he asked, frowning.

“No, just my sister. I’ll talk to her later” she replied, shaking her head.

“Lis, it’s your sister. Talk to her, I don’t care” he shrugged, not minding if she took a call.

“No, it’s really okay” she said, her voice shaking a little.

“Lisa, what’s going on?” he asked, starting to suspicious that something was up.

“Nothing” she bit out through gritted teeth.

Dean sighed, annoyed when the phone chimed again. Having spoken to her sister a few times, he figured he’d talk to her and see if everything was okay. He reached across the table and picked up Lisa’s phone.

“Dean!” she protested.

“If you won’t talk to her then let me” he said, looking down at the screen. He glared at the screen as he read the messages. They weren’t from her sister.

Call me when you’re done with dinner.

I can’t stop thinking about you.

I wish you were here with me.

Dean saw that there was no name, just a heart emoji instead. He read the ones on the lock screen, and that was enough for him to get the picture. That was enough for him to know that she was still lying to him. That she had been for more than a year now.

Dean looked at her and saw her face change into fear.

“Something you wanna tell me?” he asked, glaring at her.

-x-

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[dcforts]

[day 11: sharing is caring] 

That’s just what they need.

It’s not enough that they’ve been digging up graves in the snow and that they’re dirty and tired and aching – the weather had to play its part and send them a storm.

From where they’re stuck in the middle of nowhere in Wisconsin, home seems far, far away.

“Do we know anyone around here?” asks Cas from the passenger seat and Dean closes his eyes and sighs.

“Yeah,” he says  disheartened, “We know Garth.”

*

It’s not that Dean doesn’t like Garth. In fact, he likes him very much. And he’d be happy to see him. It’s been a while and his warm smile it’s never a bad sight.

It’s just that – he’s a lot. And he brings up some stuff.

He may pretend like it never happened but Dean remembers how he first reacted when he’d found out that he’d been bitten and how he acted around his family. And then there’s the fact that Dean doesn’t like bothering hunters who got out of the life. He feels that who he is and what he carries with him, it’s something that they’ve put behind them and don’t wish to see again.

Not to count the bitter feeling that surges in him everytime he’s reminded that Garth not only managed to retire and have a normal life, but he double did it. There are not many hunters, or werewolves, or hunter-werewolves for the matter, that can say that. Dean certainly can’t say that.

Still, when they call him and Garth says he’ll be happy to have them, Dean feels relief flooding over him, if not for the prospect of a warm and dry place to rest for a few hours, just enough to wait for the storm to calm down.

He can manage.

Or at least that’s what he thinks until he and Cas are huddled together on Garth’s front porch and even above the wind Dean hears Christmas songs blasting from the inside.

His eyes find Cas, who’s looking back at him, alarmed, but the doorbell has already been rung and it’s too late to back out. Garth opens the door with his patented smile.

“Guys!” he shouts above the music, “You made it!” he hurries them in the tiny entrance and closes the door.

Dean finds himself enveloped in a cocoon of warmth and lovely aroma of pine wood and cinnamon. His cheeks and hands tingle and he lets out a sigh.

Garth comes back into his view; Dean opens his mouth to speak but he has already wrapped his arms around him. “It’s so good to see you,” he says in his usual cheerful tone. He moves on to squeeze Cas into a similar hug and Cas stiffens and tentatively pats his back. Garth gives out a little laugh, “That’s it, buddy,” he encourages.

“Hello, Garth.”

Alright, Dean thinks, maybe it’s gonna be a little funny. 

But then he notices the two-feet-tall inflatable Santa that’s bumping against his shins and when he looks up he’s stunned into silence. It actually takes his eyes a moment or two to register what’s surrounding them: the garlands on the doors, the tinsels around the banister, the baubles hanging from the ceiling all above them. Judging from the giant Christmas tree he can spot in the living room, he’s pretty sure the rest of the house isn’t in much better condition.

Garth himself is wearing an bulky red knitted cardigan with reindeers all over it. Seeing that, combined with the songs and the decorations, Dean feels the need to ask, “Uh – Garth? Are you guys celebrating something?”

Garth slaps him on the shoulder and laughs like he’s made a great joke. “It’s December, Dean-o! Every day is a celebration. The most magical time of the year, right?” he says beaming “You’ll have to wait for the carols but you’re right on time for hot cocoa!”

Dean feels dread creeping in. He takes a step back, “Wha- Garth, no – we don’t mean to -”

Apparently Cas is on the same page as him because he also starts saying, “This is your family time,” and steps back with him. “We don’t want to intrudr –“

Garth shakes his head vigorously, “Guys, guys, guys,” He holds up his hands to shut them up, “It makes Bess and I very happy to have you here to share it with us. Sharing is caring. And we happen to care a lot about you two,” he says making a silly voice and pointing a finger at them. 

Yeah, nevermind, this was a terrible idea.

Cas throws him another freaked out look Dean can’t help but reciprocate, but Garth pays no mind to their lack of enthusiasm and shepherds them cheerfully into the living room. Dean feels even more out of place among the pastel walls and the embroidered pillows, the toys and the dolls. He tries to make himself weight less so that he doesn’t leave traces of dirt on the carpet. Everything seems soft and cozy, which is a real change from the hard leather seats and the icy wind.

“So, how was the journey?” Garth is asking Cas, as if they’re coming back from a cruise. “It’s been so long, man. Just the other day I was thinking ‘When I’m ever going to see them again?’ and then - ”

Dean gets distracted as he feels something tugging at the duffel bag he’s carrying and when he lowers his gaze there’s a blond head and two little hands trying to hold on to the fabric. “H-hey,” he says, shifting back a little to get out of his reach. He doesn’t think it’s a good idea to have clean, innocent baby hands near a bag that was in a graveyard an hour ago. But the kid takes an unsteady step forward and grabs it anyway. “This is – no, no – uh, G-Garth?” he calls, horrified.

Garth stops drowning Cas in questions and shifts his attention to the ground. He laughs and picks up his kid, totally unbothered, “Sammy, these are not toys for you,” he shakes his head, “He’s such a curious kid.”

Bess comes down the stairs right in that moment, wearing a green cardigan that matches Garth’s. “I thought I heard you two!” she says, even if Dean is pretty sure they’ve barely said a word since they’ve come in. “Garth, why don’t you bring their bag in the guests’ room? I’ll be right out with the drinks.”

There’s another round or “No need -,” and “This is really not necessary -,” and “We don’t want -“ before Garth yanks the bag from Dean’s hold with one hand.

He always forgets how strong he is.

“Of course you’re gonna stay. There’s no way I’m letting you leave in the cold and the dark. Come on! You know me,” he disappears down the hallway shaking his head and saying, “We’re gonna have so much fun.”

Bess gives them an encouraging smile, “Relax guys, take off your jackets, sit on the couch.”

*

So they do. Sit on the couch.

They both let out a sigh when they sink into the cushions and Dean would call Cas “old” if he hadn’t made the exact same sound.

“This was a bad idea,” whispers Dean.

“You think?”

In the sudden emptiness of the room, with It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year in the background, and the giant Christmas tree twinkling in the corner, it’s weird to just - sit there.

Dean is dirty and smelly and feels marginally better only when he looks over at Cas who seems so much out of his comfort zone that he might as well be a tropical bird.

He takes a hopeful look out of the windows behind the couch but the weather seems to be even worse than it was five minutes ago.

“Are you still cold?” asks Cas.

“No.”

“Good.”

They look away from each other again.

In the last few weeks they’ve settled in a pretty hectic routine. Find the case, drive to the case, work the case, drive home, rinse and repeat.

It’s a well-oiled machine, but that doesn’t leave much time for – well, anything else. Definitely not sitting around and relaxing – and it’s just awkward all of the sudden to be alone in a place that is not a sticky diner, or a dusty motel, or a morgue.

It sounds depressing but that’s the hunter life for you. Without even noticing you become your job and it gets easier to just put your head down and work.

After three hunts in a row, Dean realizes this is the first time they’re actually taking a break. He looks over at Cas, his messy hair and the hands folded in his lap, and he feels the need to say something conversational.

What comes out is, “Last time I was here, Garth fixed my teeth.”

Cas’ face scrunches up in confusion but then Garth comes back.

“Have you seen Cas?”

Dean blinks at him and then slowly and dubiously points at his right.

“No, I mean,” Garth laughs, “The little one. I’m so excited for you to meet him,” he says, leaving the room again.

“How do you lose a kid?” Dean asks under his breath, looking around. His attention is drawn to a group of pictures on the little table beside the couch. There’s a bunch of the family on holidays, and then a bunch of the kids. One of the frames says Castiel and, on the bottom, Always our little boy.

“Hey, Cas,” he picks it up to show it to him, “Want me to get you one of these?”

Cas glares at him and doesn’t dignifies him with an answer.

Dean smirks and shrugs, “Fine, we’ll get the one that says Sammy. Can’t wait to see his face on Christmas morning.”

Cas doesn’t look at him again but Dean sees the corner of his mouth stretch a little so he calls it a victory.

*

Then Garth comes back and finally sits down in the armchair across from them. “He’s asleep. I forgot he was asleep!” he rolls his eyes at himself, “Cas,” he says, clicking his tongue, “he’s the best. He’s got this look, you know?”

“Wait, who are we talking about now?”

“Him. No, uh -” Garth laughs and bangs a hand on his forehead. “Sorry, I keep getting confused. Alright, alright, lets call our Cas 'Little Cas' and we’ll call you, 'Big Cas'.”

Dean stifles a laugh.

"I don’t think-" starts Cas, but it gets drown out by Bess coming back with a tray.

From the steaming mugs comes the rich smell of chocolate and on the surface Dean can see mini marshmallows shaped like little trees. He watches as Bess and Garth pick up their mugs and toast before taking a sip and notices with a smile that even their mugs are matching. Bess’ says “Mine” and Garth’s says “Yours”. He thinks it’s cute, whatever.

But then he looks down at his own mug and realizes that there’s something written across it too. It says “Perfect” and when he dares to look in Cas’ way his whole body blushes when he reads “Together” on his.

He takes a sip of chocolate and tries very hard to avoid Cas’ eyes and stop blushing. He fails on both fronts and burns his tongue.

At least it tastes great and the sugar warms him up and makes him feel much more comfortable.

Cas drinks it too without making a fuss over molecules and Dean wonders if it’s because he’s very polite or if he’s a pain in the ass just when they’re alone.

 *

Finally Cas meets Little Cas and Garth keeps telling them how smart he is, because apparently he’s learned how to use the remote.

Dean snorts, “That’s already more than Big Cas can do,” and Cas shoots him a deadly “Stop calling me that,” that shuts him up for five minutes. Dean agrees it was a bad idea anyway.

Kids love Cas, for some reason. Little Cas stretches his arms towards him the whole time he’s in the room and Cas just pretends he can’t see him, as if avoiding eye contact is enough to make him stop. It amuses Dean greatly.

Even Gertie, when she comes in with a gingerbread cookie, looks between them and chooses to give it to Cas.

“I only have one,” she tells Dean, who is totally not offended.

But then Cas says, “It’s okay,” with his soft voice, “We’ll share it.”

And for some reason that makes Dean’s heart flutter. It’s something in the way he casually snaps the cookie in half and hands him a piece.

Somehow it’s different than sharing a car, a motel room, a bed, all kinds of weapons and bags and just space, in general.

Dean doesn’t know what it is, but somehow there’s a difference.

*

Garth is fairly disappointed when he finds out that angels don’t know Christmas carol by heart just because they’re angels.

At some point he just starts playing the piano and expects Cas to start singing along.

Dean says it was a hard blow for him as well, knowing that he couldn’t play the harp, just to enjoy the way Cas rolls his eyes with his whole head.

“What about Holy Night?”

“I- I don’t know that one,” says Cas, for the thirteen time in a row and Dean would love to stay on the couch and watch him awkwardly handle the situation if he wasn’t afraid Garth would eventually try and bring him into it.

So he jumps up at the first occasion to follow Bess into the kitchen right under Cas’ betrayed look.

“What songs do you know?” Garth’s voice carries through the walls.

“Uh, I know Led Zeppelin?” says Cas and Dean almost drops the mugs as his heart expands.

Now he kind of regrets having left the room but then Garth is saying, “Oh no, silly, I mean Christmas songs,” and Bess is asking him, “Do you play any instrument?” so he focuses back on her.

Dean puts down the mugs in the sink and opens up the tab, “Uh - just the guitar – a little bit. Never had much chance to practise.”

“Oh, you should. Then you can bring it up here sometime and play for us at the church.”

Dean scoffs, “You sure they’d want to see me again, after last time?” he asks and can’t hide the genuine uncertainty from his voice.

Bess rests a hand on his arm, reassuring, “Well, it’ll be different. Last time we said, ‘This is Dean, he’s a hunter’. This time, we’ll be saying, ‘This is Dean, he plays the guitar’.”

It’s such a simple concept but it hits him like a brick. He needs a moment to try and see himself from another point of view and he really doesn’t know what to say. Bess doesn’t seem to mind. They dry the mugs in silence and when Dean looks up to smile at her, she smiles back.

Dean, he plays the guitar. It could work.

They go back to the living room and Bess and Garth duet over Silent Night and it’s only a little embarrassing.

*

It gets dark pretty soon after that.

Before they bring their kids upstairs they all take part in the traditional – apparently daily – lightning of the tree. They turn off the lights and when Garth says  “Ready?”, Gertie says “Yes!” and he lights it up.

Only, in the dark Cas gets really close to him and when Garth says “Ready?” Dean can hear him too say “Yes,” and so he turns towards him just as Garth plugs it in and his breath catches in his throat as he sees his face light up with the colours dancing on his skin.

Bess turns on the lights again and Garth puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder and it startles him.

“Amazing, right?” he says, “Gets me everytime,” and only then Dean realizes that he’s missed the whole thing.

“Yeah,” he says.

*

Watching them at the table is always a jarring experience.

But just a "How’s the – dental practice going?" is enough to kick off the longest most absurd recount of Garth’s last few years and Dean finds himself laughing heartily with a hand on his chest, having forgotten all about the raw cow hearts on their plates.

They talk about things to do in Winsconsin and Dean tells them about that one time when he was a kid and got sick on cream puffs at a fair. Even Cas talks about Claire non-stop for a solid minute an a half, which is honestly impressive.

Bess and Garth want to know all about Sam and Eileen. When Dean says they’re splitting up more these days, Bess nods and says, “Yeah, I imagine you all enjoy a bit of privacy.”

Dean hears loud and clear the implication that him and Cas are like Sam and Eileen but doesn’t really know how to correct her, so he doesn’t. 

He knows he can’t blame her. He’s not totally oblivious to the way they look from the outside. Working together, living together - just that would be enough to assume. But Dean hasn’t looked at anyone else in years either so – yeah. He knows how it looks.

Cas doesn’t say anything either, and doesn’t show any signs as to whether he’s picked up the implication but Dean can never really be sure with him.

That’s about around the time Dean realizes he’s shifted towards him and has an arm draped on the back of his chair.

Cas hasn’t said anything about that either. Dean doesn’t remove it.

Garth proposes a toast to Bobby and Dean loves him a little bit more and then Bess asks them what they’re doing for the holidays and looks shocked when he says that they haven’t really thought about it yet. 

“But Christmas is in two weeks!”

Dean is about to say that they never really did holidays and they’re always on the road anyway, so it doesn’t matter and they don’t care, but for some reasons he settles for, “I guess – if we’re not working – then we’ll get Sam and Eileen and just -”

He doesn’t know what they’ll do.

Garth makes that face he makes when he finds him adorable.

It makes his skin crawl.

“What would you like to do?” he says and Dean feels hot all of the sudden as Cas looks his way as well.

“Nothing,” he blurts out, feeling his face reddening, “I mean, just stay at home, relax. That’d be great.”

Bess smiles, “That doesn’t sound like such an impossible plan now, does it?”

Cas softly says, “No, it doesn’t,” and Dean’s heart starts pounding.

“Next year we could get the families together,” jumps in Garth and that makes him laugh again.

From the fact that he doesn’t think right away that it’s the most horrible idea that Garth could possibly have, he realizes he’s having a good night.

And even later when he brings to the kitchen the last of the plates and sees Garth and Bess share a kiss and a laugh over the sink, he smiles. He’s careful not to make any sounds as he puts the plates down on the counter and tiptoes back to the dark living room.

Cas is standing near the tree, looking at the decorations and Dean silently joins him.

They smile at each other briefly and go back to watch the tree.

Considering how they’ve started the day, Dean thinks it’s not a bad way to end it.

*

The guest room is – well, like the rest of the house, colourful wallpaper, soft carpets, floral-scented bedsheets. And a Santa on the nightstands with cheeks that light up. Dean puts it under the bed first thing cause it creeps him out.

Garth says, “Are you gonna be alright in here?”

“I don’t sleep,” reassures him Cas and Dean wants to retort that for someone who claims he “just lays down” he sure knows how to steal the covers.

“Yeah, Garth,” he says instead, “We’ll be up early and leave through the backdoor.”

“Well, guys,” Garth says on the door, his eyes swelling up, “It’s been so good to have you here.”

“Yeah, thank you for everything, Garth,” Dean says and he really means it. “We had a good time.”

Garth shakes his head. “You guys make me cry.”

He pulls him into a hug and then moves to do the same with Cas. 

“Come back, whenever you want. And have a very merry Christmas.”

Dean closes the door behind him and leans his back against it with a deep sigh. “If I’d walked home instead of coming here I’d be less tired, I think.”

Cas huffs a laugh as he unties his shoes.

They undress in silence and slips under the covers.

Dean turns off the lights and looks up at the ceiling.

"It’s nice,” Cas says unexpectedly in the dark, “what they have."

A weight drops on Dean’s chest.

"Yeah,” he agrees in the end, “it's nice."

After a moment, Cas speaks again.

“Dean?”

“Mh?”

“We don’t have to – go home straight away,” there’s a pause. The familiar shape of Cas shifts next to him, “We could find some cream puffs for you to get sick on.”

“That’s sweet,” Dean huffs a laugh. “I appreciate it, Cas.”

He settles more comfortably against his pillow.

“I mean it,” Cas keeps going, and his whisper is a lullaby, “We don’t have to find another case. We could just go meet Sam and Eileen in Illinois. Drive home together.”

Dean likes the idea very much.

“Yeah, we could do that.”

He feels his eyes falling shut.

“We could make it home in time for Christmas,” Cas’ voice is saying.

Dean’s lips stretch into a smile.

“Yeah, let’s do that, Cas.”

He falls asleep. 

joining @bend-me-shape-me in doing this!

[ruzek-halstead]

relight that spark ✨

prologue 

pairing: luke patterson x julie molina

a modern day adaptation of the classic ‘cinderella’ tale.

high school au based off ‘a cinderella story’.

series masterlist || masterlist || ao3

warnings: fluffery, swearing

join my taglist here (or leave a comment to be tagged for this story only :)

i want you all to bear with me because this chapter isn't very exciting (with the exception of juke's text messages) but i think it's very necessary for background information. especially if you haven't watched the original movie!!

as you all know, this story is based off the 2004 classic 'a cinderella story' featuring hilary duff and chad michael murray. this is one of my favourite films, so i do urge you all to give it a watch! this fic is obviously not going to be exact to the movie, but it will follow generally the same storyline, but in a more modern sense.

✨

Julie Molina was a simple girl. All she really wanted was to get accepted into the Berklee College of Music, graduate high school and make enough money to move out and afford tuition. It wasn't an easy feat, but it's what she had been working for since her father passed away eight years ago. Her life used to be fantastic. Julie was still young when her mom passed away from cancer, and the memories she did have of her were slightly clouded and slowly fading away. But she remembered that she was one of the most gentle souls ever. She remembered her soft voice when she sang her to sleep every night, but one night, she wasn't there anymore. Julie never heard her mom's voice again. But her dad never let her forget anything. The memory of Rose Molina was alive and well in the Molina household, and at the family diner Ray owned, Mel's. He had inherited it from his father, and every day, he worked tirelessly to turn it into a feel-good family diner where everyone felt welcome and at home. After Rose passed, it was where Julie spent most of her time. Her dad was always busy with work, so she tagged along, but she never minded because the staff was her family. Her Tia Victoria worked there as the boss behind the boss, and she always made time to help Julie with her homework. Julie did everything at the diner. Holidays, birthdays, you name it. It was her home away from home; a place where she felt utterly safe and accepted. Until one day, she didn't. Mel's provided her the warmth and familiarity she lacked in her true home ever since her mom passed away. But the day Karen Fields walked through the door, slipped on a puddle and fell into Ray Molina's arms, that feeling was stripped away and never returned. Her father and Karen dated for a few months, and before Julie knew it, they were booking venues, cake tasting and dress shopping. Her father was getting married. Julie had never gotten the warmest of vibes from Karen, only when her father was around. But she was young, and she didn't know any better, and she couldn't tell her father that this was a terrible decision. She saw him happy, she saw him smiling, and she couldn't take that away from him. So, they got married, and shortly thereafter, Karen and her two twin daughters were moving into their Los Angeles home. Karen's daughters, Jade and Sophia, were not friendly in the slightest. They never went out of their way to include Julie in any activities, and completely ignored her at school, even though they were in the same grade. Julie didn't care much about that. She couldn't be bothered with mean girls like them, and plus, she already had the only friend she'd ever need. Julie met Flynn Anderson on the first day of kindergarten. It was quite hard to not notice the five-year-old yelling at another five-year-old because he had stepped on her brand new white sneakers. Even though her screaming was driving everyone away, Julie thought it was funny, so she went to join her at the sandbox. Ever since that day, the two had been inseparable. It also wasn't the last time Flynn yelled at obnoxious boys who unnerved her. Flynn kept Julie sane throughout the death of her mom, the transition with Karen and her family, and the worst event of all; the unexpected death of her father. She didn't see it coming, none of them did. One night Julie's dad was tucking her in and reading her a bedtime story, but then the ground started shaking and everything fell off the shelves. Her dad pulled her into the corner for safety, but Karen's screaming caught his attention and he had to leave her. She still had nightmares of their last few moments together, when he squeezed her hand before running out of the room. That was the last time she ever saw her father. Her young life only went downhill from there. According to the lawyers, there was no will left behind. This meant everything her father ever owned was left to Karen; that included his house, his money, his diner and Julie. If Julie thought Karen didn't like her before, she knew with one-hundred percent certainty that her presence was more like a burden now. Tia Victoria tried to fight for custody, because she never believed her brother-in-law would leave Julie in the hands of anyone else, but the courts disagreed and there was nothing else she could do about it. Julie was banished to the attic, and all house-duties were dumped on her. She was in charge of dishes, laundry, cleaning the entire house. On top of that, as soon as she was of legal age to work, Karen demanded she work at the diner to cover her expenses. Julie really had no other option, and although she hated it at the beginning, she realized the silver lining. Working at the diner meant she would spend time with her Tia Victoria and the rest of the staff that she loved, and she could also make her own money so she could move out, pay tuition and leave this life behind. That was what her life consisted of for now. She had her mind set on the music school of her dreams and she was working day and night so she could afford it. She went to school throughout the day, worked at the diner after school, and finished household chores after her shift. It didn't leave her much time to focus on her music, which at the end of the day was okay, because she didn't like to work on her music around her step-mother and step-sisters. They didn't understand, and they were cruel, so the less they knew about it, the better. It was also okay because Julie hadn't been able to publicly perform since her father passed away. When her mom passed, she left dozens of songs for Julie so she wouldn't give up music; it was her father that encouraged her to keep going, even at a young age. But with him gone, a piece of her went with him and she couldn't find it in herself to sing in front of others when he wasn't here to watch her. She kept her musical talents on the down low; only her Mel's family and Flynn truly knew what she was capable of with a piano and a microphone. That was until one day she received a text message from an unknown number. It started out innocent, crossed wires based on a flyer she put up three years ago to make some extra money. She didn't think any of those flyers were still around; they were unbelievably basic, with just her phone number and rate for piano lessons. Even though she didn't know this stranger and their first conversation was a tad bit rocky, for some reason, she felt comfortable talking to them. One day they started, and it just didn't stop. 

That was how they met. She was expecting the conversation to end after she told them she wasn’t offering lessons anymore (she can’t even begin to explain how they found one of her flyers in the first place), but whoever they were, they were incredibly persistent. They were slightly charming, and for some reason, Julie found herself opening up and revealing things about herself only a limited number of people knew about her. She couldn’t explain the instant connection. She would honestly sound crazy if she tried. And even after she spilled her guts out, and it was well into the night, she was surprised to see another message the following morning. So, they kept talking; night and day, they talked about anything and everything. Julie never asked who they were; she never asked for their identity because the mystery was intriguing, and she really didn’t want to reveal her own. All she knew is that they were a senior at her high school and identified as male; she knew he was in a band and he played many instruments and sang a bit. Julie only told him the same amount of information; that she was also a senior and identified as female. Throughout their constant virtual interactions, they started revealing more and more about themselves. From their first conversation, Julie told him all about the death of her mom, and how that influenced her music career. She decided not to tell him about her father's death right away, because she did remember he was a total stranger and who knew if she could even trust him? She revealed that something traumatic had happened and her music was temporarily put on hold as she worked on herself. But through time, he opened up to her as well, and eventually, she let him into to all the details. He revealed to her that his parents were dead set on him pursuing other endeavours, including a full scholarship to Stanford University. However, that wasn't what he wanted to do. He wanted to purse his music and his band, and when he mentioned Berklee College of Music, Julie knew there was no forgetting they had ever met. She was locked in. Their conversations started simple, more like venting sessions. But overtime, they became random, about anything and everything. And to a certain extent, they became a tad flirty. Julie was no expert in the romance department, by any means. With all the tragic events in her life, romantic partners had been the furthest thing from her mind. But sometimes she got a real flirty vibe that she couldn't deny. And even when she wasn't sure, she'd show the messages to Flynn, who, with an eye roll, assured her he was definitely trying to flirt. It made her extremely nervous at first, but then she realized, she had nothing to lose. This was all virtual, they didn't know each other's identities; he couldn't hurt her. But Julie didn't like to refer to him as some random number in her contacts. As much as she didn't necessarily want to put a face to the number, she needed at least a name, or even a pseudonym. When he asked for an example, Julie suggested he refer to her as 'Dahlia' as that was her mother's favourite flower and she had an emotional attachment to it. He had made a lame joke about being able to top that but ultimately he chose 'Charming'. Julie had made the mistake of telling him he was charming once, and he still hadn't let it go. This was the ultimate power move to make sure she never forgot it; but secretly, she loved it. 

And so, that's how it went. Sometimes they talked about serious things, like their future at university, and sometimes it was simpler things. Julie liked to argue because her sassiness would have it no other way; Charming could give it right back to her, ensuring it was never a dull conversation.

When Julie wasn't working, studying, or working on her music, she was talking to Charming. It was enough for her, for now. She was just trying to get through senior year quietly, by doing what was expected of her and making as much money as she could to get the hell out of there. But she should have expected that things wouldn't go that smoothly; they never had for her before. This is the story of Julie Molina and her Prince Charming, and everything in between. 

✨ 

i was super unsure about this chapter because it wasn't that exciting and then i realized i could probably just use it as an prologue or something for some background information, so i hope it was enough.

i'm really excited to get into the nitty gritty of this story, so i really hope you all enjoyed this enough to follow along! i'm not sure how many chapters this will be yet, i'm thinking at least four/five with everything i have planned???

stay safe, thanks for reading!!

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