#And. Um. I could write without drawing but I can’t draw without writing. Goodbye.

[4ddi3addie2005]

Hello infinitely wise followers. Today I will be dropping my major in art to ONLY pursue creative writing because it’s stretching me thin to get by in Two Things when I could be really good in One Thing. I now only have one major. And many experiences.

[jimilter]

riptide (m) | k.sj. | (1/2)

one | two

pairing:  kim seokjin x reader

rating:  m (18+)

genre:  angst | smut | established relationship!au

summary:  It takes a foolishly trivial incident to unravel how astonishingly little you and Seokjin actually understand each other. It has you questioning your relationship, and him? Well, he’s questioning his whole life.

warnings:  swearing + implied alcohol consumption + realistic relationship problems + mentions of insecurities, jealousy, complicated mental dispositions + emotional distress + sexual situations (unprotected penetrative sex, dirty talking, a bit of manhandling, fingering) + mentions of masturbation + a ton of miscommunication (refer to the summary smh)

word count: 12.3 k

note:  it’s FINALLY done, y’all! came up to be a monster of 25k words, so i decided to split it into two. i’ll drop the other part next week. this took a lot more time, energy and re-writing than i’d thought it would. i began writing this in january - it’s been five excruciating months! 😩 i really hope y'all will like this one~ 🥺💜

💟 YOUTH – 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

— masterlist

— feedback is always appreciated!

riptide (n) – a dangerous area of strongly moving water in the sea, where two or more currents meet.

Lady, running down to the riptide - Taken away to the dark side - I wanna be your left hand man.

The turn of events has been so fucking hilariously impossible that Seokjin has literally been rendered speechless. Which doesn't happen often, mind you. What can he do, he is just extremely witty—he always has something to say about everything, usually and preferably with impeccable comic timing. Especially when it comes to you. 

This, though. This completely baffling scenario, right in front of him, has him gaping like a goldfish with no words to say.

"Final call, Jin. Gawk at me for five more seconds and I walk out of here," you threaten, an elegant arm poised at your waist and gorgeously plump lips pressed into a thin line. "Say something?"

And Seokjin still cannot formulate a single word, because what the actual fuck? How can you even think that he could ever— 

"Alright." You catwalk out of his bedroom, leaving him blinking into space.

He jumps the next second, leaping after you. "Honey! How would—what—I can never—why do I even have to say—will you wait? You’re being so ridiculous, right now, I hope you know that!"

If he wasn't in such a fix, Seokjin would physically cringe at his speech. It was better when he was just gaping.

“Honey! Stop being so overdramatic, you’ve known me and you’ve known Jimin! For years! Stop acting like you seriously don’t know what happened, here!”

You don't stop, though, gliding down the stairs and hopping over the haphazardly tossed items in the living room as you exit out of the house.

And then you're gone. You're really gone, over something so fucking ridiculous, that Seokjin still has no words to say.

All he knows is that his girlfriend of five years has finally gone crazy enough to jump to conclusions of such high magnitude of stupidity.

And, that Park Jimin is a dead man.

It all begins on an unsuspecting Sunday morning, when the entire house is smelling of weed, stale booze and some worse fluids. 

Last night, Seokjin vacated his own bedroom for the boys to smoke up in at Jimin's request, because that is the only well ventilated room of the house. He spent the night in Yoongi's room with earplugs in, dead to all the chaos in the house—as he often does on party nights—to catch up on his beauty sleep. He cannot afford any unbecoming dark circles or, God forbid, breakouts.

And no, that's not a comedic moment, he really does need his face looking perfect this week for reasons outside of personal gratification too, because he has a shoot on Tuesday. He especially took a leave from his part-time job at the Mexican restaurant downtown where his girlfriend, you, work full-time, on a Tuesday—saying goodbye to all the amazing tips always forwarded to the cooks on Taco Tuesday—for this. Nothing would mess up his face.

Not to mention that one very important audition for a very gigantic project he's been looking forward to. They're yet to announce the date, but it would be this very month. He hasn't really told you much about it, planning a huge surprise for later when—if, actually, but he prefers to be unrealistically optimistic in every situation possible—he bags the coveted position, at the end. He hasn't really decided upon much, other than a long drive and a picnic date to one of those grasslands on the city's outskirts that you love so much. Oh, and bringing up the prospect of moving in together in an apartment with just the two of you. 

He's pretty certain you must not remember him raving about the opportunity, because it has been months since he did that. He then proceeded to be covert about all the mini auditions and trainings he underwent to prepare for the final audition, and he is confident you have not connected the dots.

But that is all a discussion for later — he doesn't even know when he would be auditioning. 

The crux of the whole matter is that he needs to keep looking as flawless as he can until that audition happens.

So he has slept like a baby, last night, while the rest of his friends have partied, including two out of three of his housemates—Hoseok and Jimin—along with Taehyung and Taehyung's girl. Namjoon had foregone attendance in lieu of the Halloween party, next weekend, that he knows he would definitely be forced to attend because Hoseok is hosting. Yoongi, his third and final housemate, escaped the house altogether to spend a night of music-making with Jungkook in his dorm.

So, in the morning, when Seokjin is moving around his kitchen that seems to have been hit by a tornado, checking the fridge and mentally praying that his baggie of smoothie ingredients is still in good shape—a scream echoes around the house.

Seokjin freezes. That sounded a lot like…you.

Immediately alert, he runs out of the kitchen and into the drawing room. Hoseok is hanging upside down on one of the couches, something that looks a lot like undigested white sauce pasta puddles on the ground, inches from his new, fiery red hair. Seokjin grimaces.

"Kim Seokjin!" your screech tears the silence.

Seokjin twists on his heels, looking up in the direction of his bedroom. It really is you. And you're in his bedroom—the room he did not occupy last night.

God only knows what kind of a scene you have walked in on. He hopes these idiots didn’t have an orgy up there, although he really can’t put it past them.

Not waiting another second, Seokjin rushes up the stairs and pushes through the doors to his bedroom. His mouth falls open on an audible gasp.

You stand next to his bed, dressed up elegantly in a navy dress that ends above your knees—which makes him wonder if you are here for an impromptu breakfast date—with one hand clutching his duvet that has uncovered what looks like…

…a head of long, dirty blonde hair.

Who the fuck?

In his bed?

"Hey, Honey!" Seokjin's voice is a squeak. "You… you here for a date?" he manages out of a suddenly parched throat.

You roll your eyes. "Uh huh. A fact you would've known if you looked at the texts I sent you last night." Your eyes are narrow at him. "This explains why you didn't, though. Busy night, Jin?" 

He balks at your words, at a loss. How could you even think it was him, when you know all about Park Jimin and his escapades?! 

Seokjin's blood boils. Fucking Jimin. There is going to be blood on Seokjin’s hands. 

In the midst of it, the blonde head shifts. 

Soon after, as you two watch, a pair of brown eyes with smudged makeup emerge from inside Seokjin's bed—and the audacity?! There’s makeup all over his covers! Jimin will pay for the dry cleaning. The face is followed by a whole, tiny woman of five-something feet who is, thankfully, covered in a shirt.

Seokjin is almost not breathing when the blonde starts to give him a dreamy smile, his gaze switching between her and you. And it’s extremely stupid, because he hasn’t seen this woman before, ever, in his entire life. But he catches the way your arms fall to your sides and those elegant, dainty fingers of yours ball up into fists as you look at the blondie’s face.

Fortunately, the girl recognises him at last before her grin could turn fully dopey, and with a squeak, jumps out of the bed. “You’re not—um. Hi. Sorry, I, uh. I’ll get going.”

And surprisingly, she does exactly that in less than a minute, leaving you to stare down at Seokjin.

“You know, it’s really unbecoming for a girlfriend to keep finding girls in her boyfriend’s bed every other week and not be given an explanation, ever.” Your tone is teasing, but your eyes are taunting. “You shouldn’t always be so dismissive, you know? What if I start getting ideas? I don’t think you even remember how to make up with your girlfriend, at this point, because I never fight.”

That is when Seokjin starts gawking. And literally doesn’t stop until you’ve left the house.

“I don’t get it,” Jackson says, stuffing cold noodles into his mouth and chewing on them without closing it. “Do you think he cheated on you, or do you not think he cheated on you?”

You look at your best friend with your face twisted up in disgust. You swear to God you would never have agreed to make friends with this guy on your mother’s insistence when the Wang family moved in next doors to you, had you known he’d turn out to be such a barbarian a decade later. Twelve-year-old Jackson had been such a decent kid—studious, elegant, well-mannered. What went wrong, along the way?

You exhale, shifting on your chair, very wary of any dried up fluids that you might come in contact with. “I know he did not cheat on me, Jax, the very notion is completely ridiculous.”

Jackson stops chewing and looks away from the WWE match playing on the TV to squint at you. “I’m…confused? Wait. What is the problem, then? What are you mad at him for?”

To be completely honest, you aren’t quite certain yourself.

But you do know that you don’t feel good. And that this feeling has been building up over a couple months, but you have only really acknowledged it head-on, today, in all five-something years of your relationship. Five years, seven months and eight days, to be exact, but that’s kinda besides the point.

You’ve had at least a few months’ worth of buildup that has gotten you to this point, you would admit. Especially after Seokjin had to cancel that visit to your hometown at the end of June, for your parents’ thirty-fifth wedding anniversary celebration because he had an important audition for a big-brand ad film. The cancellation was acceptable, but his offhand comment that, “thirty-five isn’t even that special, we’ll get them a huge gift for their fiftieth,” stayed with you longer than it should’ve. Things got okay-ish when you reminded yourself how Seokjin never really thought too hard about things he said, always being a humorous, unattached clown in every situation. But this morning's dismissal has pushed you over that edge. You straightaway goaded him, claiming he doesn’t remember how to make it up to you, and all you got in response was his shock and being called “ridiculous” and “overdramatic.” Fun.

You were most certainly joking, if a bit caustically, when you said what you did. He could have taken it as a joke and laughed it off. He could have taken it as a threat and comforted you, said it was Jimin that used his room, and maybe kissed you. You already knew what had happened when you saw the girl, anyway. But this was probably the third time this situation had happened, this month. 

Sure, you are understanding and really do know Jimin and what all he gets up to, but is that really supposed to be such a given? Asking your boyfriend to hug you close and kiss your forehead when you discover a girl in his bed just as you were about to cuddle the lump of sheets thinking it was him, is not too much to expect, is it?

Granted, Seokjin has never been extremely expressive, but still. It feels like he’s consciously trying to keep you at a distance, these past few months.

You don’t have the complete grasp of the storm of thoughts in your head yet, but you want to try and explain it to Jackson the best you can. 

“It was about respect, in a way, I guess,” you quietly mumble, and Jackson turns the TV off, now sitting cross legged on the couch to face your chair. He puts away his takeout container to frown at you, probably gleaning how serious this is for you. “He stood there, without saying a single word, expecting me to stop being mad. Almost willing me to stop being mad by making these big, incredulous eyes at me. Like it was that horrible of his girlfriend to demand for an explanation when she found a girl in his bedroom. It was just the two of us, I wasn’t making a scene in front of anybody. He just—ugh! He could’ve simply asked me to not be mad, said it was Jimin who spent the night in the room and maybe even laughed about it, or plotted Jimin’s murder—I would’ve joined in—but no. He acted like I was being stupid, told me not be ridiculous and dramatic. And that made me feel really stupid.”

Jackson winces. “And why do you think you were not being stupid?”

You exhale. “I wasn’t. Because I wasn’t actually accusing him of anything, and five years down the lane, he should know that now. I just wanted him to say it and not scold me when I tease-taunted him. He always expects me to know everything. And even though I always do, it gets tiring sometimes. These weird thoughts get to you — that maybe you’re being too understanding and he’s using that to his advantage, you know?” You look down at your lap, playing with your nails. “It’s just…um. I wanted him to coddle me, I guess. To treat this as something big because I was throwing a tantrum about it and, just, I don’t know—try to cajole me? Assuage me with his words, maybe? But he didn’t. Because he hasn’t done that in forever. Because I never need him to, because I always freaking understand everything!” A sob leaves you.

Jackson pats the place next to him. “C’mere, you dumdum, and stop hyperventilating,” he mumbles, hugging you to his side when you move to sit on the couch. “I don’t exactly understand how the relationship dynamics work, but from what you told me, I get that you wanted attention? Some loving? And instead you got disappointed looks because Jin expected you to be mature and rational about it — the way you always are — and that too with his fucking eyes and some low-key insult words? Is it something like that?”

Wow, Jackson really paraphrased all that amazingly. “Yes, actually. It’s exactly that.”

Jackson sighs. “Y’all have been together a long time, babe, so I guess it’s kind of a given that you’d get to a no-bullshit point. Which is why he hasn’t done that in forever, because y’all probably don’t need that kinda stuff between you anymore.”

“I get that, it’s how a relationship matures. But I’m pretty certain that it’s not supposed to make me feel like this,” you sound slightly muffled, having stuffed your face into Jackson’s hoodie-covered chest. “I feel—I feel like we got too comfortable and now he’s just started to take me for granted. And I also feel like I’m being too needy. Am I being needy and annoying? He’d hate me if I told him all this, won’t he? Half of the reason we’ve worked out so well is because we’re both career oriented and don’t waste time overthinking stupid shit.” You gasp. “Oh, no—would he leave me? He’s used to his girlfriend being mature, not needy—”

You are cut off when Jackson pulls you away by your shoulders, giving you a serious look. “Wait, wait, stop. What did you say? Not the needy part, you’re allowed to be needy once in all the damn three-sixty-five days y’all stay busy for. The…taking you for granted part. Pretty big of a thing to say, babe.”

You sigh. “We haven’t been on an actual date in months. Seokjin thinks there’s no need for that extra effort when we spend lunch breaks at work together, everyday. Outside of the restaurant, our meetings involve our entire flock of friends by default. It’s been three months since we slept together.” You sniff, hating having to impart such a private detail of your life. “So no, I don’t think it’s that big of a thing to say, at all.”

“Wow.” Jackson gives a slow whistle. “You’ve really been bottling up a lot in there, huh?”

You shrug. “I guess. It never made me feel underappreciated, though. Sure, I was irritated at some occasions and disappointed at others, but… Today I feel horrible, Jax.”

“Did you share anything with Byulyi?” he asks, referring to your flatmate and good friend since college.

You shake your head. “She already has a lot on her plate, right now. She got rejected by the photographer she wanted to intern with, so it’s back to freelancing for her.”

“Yeah, that must suck.” Jackson grimaces. Then he looks at you. “You need to take a break, hun. Sit back, today, and have tacos and beer with me. Reset your inner thoughts. Talk to Jin tomorrow. Although, I must say, it’s kinda depressing that you have to actually tell your boyfriend that he’s being a bad boyfriend. Isn’t that kind of shit supposed to be realized on your own?”

You purse your lips. “I guess, yeah. But…don’t say that he’s being a bad boyfriend, Jax. I don’t think he even realizes something is wrong.”

“And that…doesn’t make it worse?” At your raised eyebrows, he concedes with a roll of his eyes. “Fine, fine, in any case — maybe try to hint at it before you dive straight in with the kill? See if he reacts?”

“I don’t know, Jax. What if he doesn’t? He’s really not the best at taking hints and reading signs, or that kind of subtle stuff.”

“Then you can just say your shit. All I’m saying is, give him a chance to figure it out on his own. He’s probably really clueless why you reacted so big on something so small, this morning. If you drop hints, maybe he’ll feel it out.”

You nod, somewhat amazed at how sound Jackson’s advice seems. “How are you doing this, Jax? Being a love guru all of a sudden?”

Jackson scoffs. “I’m just tryna put myself in Seokjin’s shoes. If I was in the situation he’s in, this is what I’d like to happen — be given a window to figure out what’s wrong. You’ve been together a long time, hun. It really shouldn’t be that difficult for him.”

You shrug a shoulder. “I won’t be too sure about that. Why does it even matter if he can or cannot, though?”

Jackson seems to be mulling over something before he drops his chin to his chest. “Because you’re supposed to be partners, hun. If you can tell what’s up with him with a single glance, why can't he? Not being good at taking signs is not a good enough excuse. My gut says that he’d be able to, though. And that knowledge will make you feel infinitely better, trust me. It’ll be reassuring to learn that he really knows and understands you well, won’t it?”

You nod, slowly, but you still have your suspicions. Seokjin has just been the kind of guy whose emotional depth goes to a certain extent and then just — well, stops. There are things that he feels and realizes and sees, and there are things that he doesn’t. It isn’t even something he does, you believe. It’s just how he is. Certain feelings just don’t fall in his orbit. And you’ve never found there to be anything wrong with it when he’s been an immaculately amazing boyfriend and tended to every single one of your needs, always. Well, you have never actually needed emotional consoling, too, so you haven’t had the chance to audition him for that. You keep yourself too busy for all that unnecessary mental pressure. It comes as a surprise, but you have never cried on Seokjin’s shoulder in all these years of your togetherness. You’ve kept your head straight and chin up, even during your college exams. And so has Seokjin, because you’ve never seen him cry, either.

Lately, though, things have been kind of weird. The gradual transformation into your professional lives that began after college, has been drastic in the past few months. Seokjin has been constantly prioritizing his career over you, and you have been understanding about it because you agree with it — to an extent. Seokjin believes it all the way through, though, and you have known for a while that you would hit your limit at some point, and would try to bring him back to yourself. Today morning, it seems, you hit that limit. 

You felt dispensable. 

You hate this feeling.

To be very honest, you know you can get over this. You can give it some time, remind yourself of how much your Jin loves you, believe that he is eventually going to come back to you once he settles, and be understanding about the entire thing. 

You can — but you really don’t want to.

Something tells you that this feeling of getting too comfortable will only fester and take a worse form as time goes by. You can wait it out, sure, and hope you aren’t being a pushover as he works on building his career. You are building your career, too, after all, and at least some of it has been for each other. 

The thing is, your plans with Seokjin are long-term—marriage, kids, white-picket fence, and all that. And you believe that if you are sensing a problem now, you better deal with it now before it has the chance to change its form and affect you both when you are at a more responsible point in your life.

Mind made up, you look up at Jackson, immediately grimacing when he forwards a greasy hand to pick up a taco for you. “I don’t…I don’t like tacos. And may I exchange the beer for scotch?”

“You work at a Mexican restaurant, and you don’t like tacos,” Jackson deadpans.

“They mess up my skincare.”

“Oh, fuck off! Have a spinach smoothie with a drink, why don’t you?”

You purse your lips to hold back your laughter at his ire, your own worries forgotten in the moment as Jackson gets up to get you a glass of scotch and some healthier snacking alternative.

“You're a dead man.”

Jimin stops dead in his tracks, arms frozen in the act of putting a t-shirt on. He blinks at Seokjin with big round eyes. “Hyung?” he mumbles, a picture of unblemished innocence, especially when he covers his toned torso with the oversized t-shirt he was in the process of getting into. “What—what’d I do?”

Someone who doesn’t know better would never believe that this young, innocent, frazzled haired fairy-boy could ever do any wrong. But Seokjin knows better. “You chaotic womanizer,” Seokjin nearly hisses, "you've gotta learn to clean after yourself. Honey found a girl in my bed. A girl—in my bed.”

Jimin had the decency to drop the innocent act. “Oh. Oh.”

Seokjin raises a brow. “Oh? That’s it?”

"Yeah, well, I clarified to her that it was a one time thing when we got to it. She was obviously expecting something more if she didn't leave when I told her to. Disappointed but not surprised." Jimin is frowning when he comes to sit down on the couch next to Seokjin. “Sorry you two had to see that. You clarified to Honey noona that I’d been the occupant of the room, though, right?” 

“I—what?” Seokjin scoffs. “Why would I even need to do that? She knows that already, obviously. She’s been seeing you for over five years, or have you forgotten?”

Jimin squints. “I mean…okay, fair point, I guess. Why’re you so worked up, then? Did something else happen, too? Where’s she, now?” Jimin looks around the living room as if looking for you.

Seokjin sighs. “Well, I couldn't really get much out before she was storming out of the damn house, altogether.”

Jimin blinks. “Storming out? Why? She… um, was she mad?"

Seokjin opens his mouth – and then shuts it. Was she mad, indeed. "I don't know. She looked kinda mad, yes. But maybe she was in a hurry?" 

"Why would she be mad? Did you try to call her? Text her? It's unlike her to react so big on something so small." Jimin bites down on his lip, looking lost in thought. 

Seokjin shakes his head. "She didn't pick up or text back."

“There’s definitely got to be an underlying reason for her being like this. Are you sure you guys haven’t been fighting, hyung?” 

Seokjin sighs. “Yes, Jimin, I’m absolutely certain that there hasn’t been any fighting of any sorts between the two of us before today.” He pauses. “Well, she was slightly irritated that I didn’t check her texts last night, but she knows I go to bed at eleven on days leading up to a shoot, so that one’s on her.”

Jimin looks genuinely concerned, which, in turn, makes Seokjin concerned. Jimin isn't the type to stress over stuff if he can help it. Sure, he cares about the boys and would always be down to do whatever he can for them, but his throwing-caution-to-the-wind way of life causes him to not take most of the things in life seriously.

You’ve been like an older sister to the boys ever since Seokjin started dating you and introduced you to them. They all have their ways of showing their respect and affection to you. Well, maybe not Jungkook because he can’t get over getting unnecessarily intimidated by Seokjin enough to relax around you. 

Jimin, especially, always seems to be affected by any tension in Seokjin’s relationship. Everyone can see how it upsets his entire life when you two are fighting, although he’d never admit to it. He doesn’t need to, because it’s pretty obvious when he becomes a cranky six-year-old who hates the world. 

Right now, he has a guilty frown on his face. "I should've seen to it that Suzette left before I went to shower," he mumbles as if talking to himself. “Shouldn’t have trusted her to leave just because I told her to.” He looks up at Seokjin with troubled eyes. "I'm sorry, hyung."

Seokjin can not believe himself when he shakes his head at Jimin's apology—this little demon causes so much chaos in all their lives that any apology coming from him should be justified and welcome. But this one isn't really on him. "It's not entirely your fault."

Jimin's demeanor changes a bit and the attitude Seokjin is used to witnessing makes an appearance. "Right? That's what I was thinking, too!" Jimin exclaims, some of the concern on his face lifting. "You have to talk to Honey noona and make things right, though, hyung. She’s the only womanly touch in our man cave. We’d all be barbarians without her.” Jimin looks very wary and kind of nervous.

“It’s funny you would crave her ‘womanly’ presence when she’s rushed off because of a woman that you brought home.” Seokjin scrunches his nose. "And I said it isn't entirely on you, because it is partially on you, Park Jimin. You borrowed my room to smoke up in. Why couldn't you take your Suzy back to your own room?"

"Suzette," Jimin corrects under his breath while shaking his head. "Yeah, I should've, but… your room just felt like a better choice during the high," he finishes in a mumble, dragging a hand down his face. “Hyung,” Jimin says with a pout on his lips, “the last time you two fought was two years ago, remember? On your birthday? When Hobi hyung dumped cake in noona’s hair and she had her first shoot for that bigshot magazine, the next day?”

Seokjin nods with a sigh. “She yelled at me for having stupid friends, and I yelled at her for caring more about the shoot that having a good time on my birthday. Yes, I remember.”

“And then she didn’t visit us for a whole week. Please don’t let that happen, again.” Jimin looks up at Seokjin with big, round eyes. “I can’t take that kind of unrest in my life."

Seokjin briefly wonders, if Jimin’s nightly conquests were to see this side of him, would they run in the opposite direction or be more attracted to him? Jimin definitely needs someone in his life that would bring out this side in him and stay to provide him the emotional comfort he requires when he gets like this. 

“I will try not to, Jiminie, but…” Seokjin shuts his eyes. “I seriously do not understand her actions from the morning,” he finishes in a mumble.

“Maybe she’s—maybe she’s worried about something else? Some other aspect of her life?” Jimin suggests with wide eyes. “And she’s just projecting onto you.”

“As sound as the explanation is, I am literally involved in ninety percent of the aspects in her life,” Seokjin says with a twist to his lips. “I would know if something was wrong anywhere.”

“That’s cocky of you to say,” Jimin snarkily comments with narrowed eyes. At Seokjin’s raised eyebrows, he amends, “That’s cocky of you to say, hyung-nim.”

Seokjin scoffs, but then he shrugs his shoulders. “It’s true. We work at the same restaurant, we’re scouted by the same agency. Even her agent is best friends with mine—she gossips a ton about how Honey passes up so many opportunities and pisses her agent off. Her friends are, well—” Seokjin stops short when it hits him. “Wang. Wang could know something!”

Jimin is looking at him skeptically when Seokjin meets the younger’s eyes. “I just think you should have a simple talk with noona first before digging around.”

That is sensible advice. Seokjin nods as he pulls his phone out.

“Just find out what’s been troubling her, hyung. You two are rational people, I’m sure you’ll work it out.” Jimin pauses to scratch the back of his head. “Just please don’t let this be another fight like that one?”

“Don’t worry,” Seokjin finally says with a pat on Jimin’s shoulder as he finishes sending off another text to you, “this one is nothing like that fight.”

Turns out, this fight really is not like that one. Or any other fights Seokjin has ever had with you, in fact, because you’re giving him the silent treatment. 

You’ve never given him the silent treatment. 

Not even when you were students and didn’t have a load of time on your hands and used to waste precious sleep hours arguing over stupid shit that would probably resolve itself if you just slept on it and looked back at it with a fresh state of mind. Not even then did you forego talking.

Needless to say, Seokjin is distressed.

You drive to the house to pick him up at your usual time, the next morning, after not having responded to any of his calls or texts for the entire day. Seokjin is aghast as he gets into the car.

“Honey! What is going on? Why didn’t you—where have you been?”

You simply start the engine and take off. “Busy,” you murmur after a while.

Soekjin’s head is close to exploding. “Busy? Doing what?”

Your face remains stoic as you weave through the morning traffic. Seokjin looks at you. You’re dressed up in your waitressing outfit that consists of a shirt, skirt and tights, and being who you are, Seokjin can proudly say that you would stand out to be the most well dressed server in the field. You’re always pristine and tidy — no accidents happen to you at the job ever. No spillage of drinks or ketchups, no soiled hands being wiped down on your skirt. Nothing even ruins your manicure. 

It is something that Seokjin has always tried to keep up with, this cleanliness streak of yours. Because he has always assumed you would expect it out of him, too. You were attracted to the cover model version of him, after all. It is quite natural that you would have those kinds of expectations. And Seokjin has always been more than happy to deliver. It has become a part of him, in fact. He doesn't even chew with his mouth open even when he's among the boys, anymore.

It has, somewhat, made him practical and less emotional in life, too, but he doesn't really think of it as a bad thing. You have always been practical in life – the most ambitious girl he has ever met, someone that has always prioritized her career and goals over everything else. Seokjin has admired that since college, and has tried to show you that he has similar priorities even if he has had to work on thinking from his mind more than his heart.

But when you are already by his side, what does he even need his heart for, anymore, when it's already yours?

Now, looking at you sitting with a morose expression on your face as you give him the cold shoulder, Seokjin is just as much in love with you as he was when he first met you.

“Stuff,” you say with a shrug, after some extended silence. “You should know about that, right? Your schedule’s always busier than mine and I never complain.”

Your sharp words have him reeling. Whatever do you even mean by that? “Uhm, okay. Fair enough. But… did you really not have the time to respond to a single text?”

“It gets impossible sometimes, Jin, you know how it is.”

Seokjin frowns. He does know that, but he doesn’t feel okay. Something is very off with you. It is as if you’re saying something else and expecting him to discern a different meaning out of it. 

He doesn’t understand why, though. You, of all people, should know how terrible he is at decoding signs.

He sighs.

Seokjin, after his conversation with Jimin yesterday, had decided to ask you about the morning’s incident, head on, whenever you called him back. But you didn’t, and this is the first opportunity he’s had to talk to you, so he decides to bring it up, now. “What—what happened yesterday morning, babe? You got really mad and stormed off, and… I mean, you’ve got to know the girl had been Jimin’s companion for the night, right? You know him, how he is!”

You say nothing, hands tightening a bit on the steering wheel. Seokjin looks down at his own hands.

“You know I was only surprised at your words because we really do not have the time to be discussing silly things." He shuts his heart down when it tries to tell him to go soft. He knows it isn't something you would appreciate. "After five years, you know what I’m capable of right? You can never start getting ideas, because that would be insane and stupid. I’m already so supremely occupied as it is between two jobs, when would I even have the time to cheat, right?” he jokes, snorting to himself.

You’re still quiet, but your tongue comes out to moisten your lips. It is a nervous tick of yours which Seokjin recognizes very well, because with your skincare and scheduled regular application of lip balms, your lips never need the extra moisture.

He frowns. Was he too straightforward? But this is exactly how you communicate with him! “Hey, is everything okay, babe?”

You exhale, noisily. “Everything’s fine, Jin,” you finally say with a roll of your eyes. “And you’re right. I know you wouldn’t cheat. You don’t have the time to chat me up, how are you gonna pick someone new to impress, huh?” 

Your snort sounds lacking in humor, but Seokjin still gives a couple of stilted chuckles. Even so, he's still somewhat relieved. “Right. Just so we’re certain, that was a joke, right? I mean, it would be really ridiculous of you to think that I would—”

“Yes, Jin!” you cut him off with a deep frown. “If I wanted to talk to you about something, or accuse you, or confront you — I’d do that without you having to prompt me. Stop obsessing over yesterday and stop trying to explain yourself. I know it was Jimin’s doing.”

Seokjin feels immensely relaxed at the conviction with which you say the last sentence, certainly, but something is still off. “Why were you ignoring me, then?”

“I just didn’t have anything to say to you.” You stop at a red light, the last one before you reach the restaurant, and turn to look at Seokjin with really vacant eyes. He doesn’t like your stare one bit. “We’ve been together five years, babe. If neither of us have got anything of significance to say, I’d rather not text too much, if that’s okay with you? I’ve got a busy schedule to work around, too, you know?”

Seokjin wants to remind you that both of you had something of significance to say after you left his place in anger, but chooses to just roll with whatever you’re playing at. Maybe he's thinking too much. He nods. “Sounds alright to me.”

“Great,” you breathe out, somehow looking disappointed along with the preexisting sorrowful expression you had on your face.

You really do not have a concrete explanation for why you acted the way you did with Seokjin, this morning. 

You were supposed to hint at being mad, not blatantly try to give him a taste of his own medicine. It could turn out to be a good thing if he eventually starts to miss you and reaches out, sure, but playing mind games never feels right to you. But when he started to joke about not having time to cheat, and something just turned off in you. He really could’ve seriously reassured you of his love. That would’ve been actually comforting. But no. He chose to joke about that, too. You didn’t feel like putting in all that energy anymore, after that.

Now, you sit down in the break room to check your phone during your ten minutes’ rest break. A text message floats at the top of your notifications.

Jax 🚽 Hey How’d it go?

With an exhale, you decide to call him back. Your fingers are too tired to type, and Jackson is sure to launch off into a rampage of texts the moment you tell him you’ve tried to turn the tables on Seokjin.

Seokjin is in the kitchen, his usual rest break not being for another hour, so you don’t have to worry about him walking in.

“Hey!” Jackson jovially greets you as soon as he picks the phone. “Did you get my text?”

“I did, yes,” you respond in a calm voice. “I’ve been looping milkshake mugs through my fingers since eight am, they needed some rest, so I decided to call.”

“Yeah, no, it’s cool. I was in a really boring class, anyway. So. How'd it go?"

You pull in your lip between your teeth. "I… I kinda ended up telling him I am a busy person too and that we shouldn’t text that much."

You hear silence instead of the outburst you'd expected. 

"Jax?"

"Are you actually gonna try to play a mind game with the dumbest human being you know on earth?" Jackson so very eloquently asks, his interpretation making you pinch the bridge of your nose. “He’s never even gonna figure it out!”

“I know how it sounds, okay?” You exhale. “I honestly don’t know what came over me.”

“Okay, alright, one thing at a time. So, no coddling?"

"Not a single soft word. Just more expectations of me understanding, and claiming that anything but that would be stupid of me. He acts like I'm supposed to know everything about him and everyone in his group of friends," you mutter in irritation. “As if those dumbasses know the first thing about themselves.”

You realize you're being a bit harsh, because his friends – basically your younger brothers, at this point – are a bunch of clueless idiots that love, adore and respect you. You shouldn't be badmouthing them, Seokjin’s growing callousness towards you isn't their doing. It's his own. 

You sigh. You really miss how things used to be when you were in college.

“Uh, I think we need to rewind a bit. What happened? What triggered this?”

It makes you smile a little when Jackson asks that. At least your best knows you’re not wholly clinically insane. “Well… I drove him to work. He…" your brows lower at the recollection, "he was the first to bring up yesterday morning. And yet again, he gave me the same you've got to know this and that crap, and then he tried to assure me in the dumbest possible way. Do you know what he said, Jax, do you?”

“Um, do I wanna know?”

“He said, and I quote, he doesn’t have the time to cheat. Jackson Wang, are you hearing this? He really straight up said he was too busy to cheat on me and so I should rest assured! Who says that?!”

“He must’ve meant it as a joke—”

“Yeah, he said that, too, and then very immaculately added that it’d be ridiculous of me to think otherwise. I have lost count of how many times the words ridiculous and stupid came up.”

“Goddammit.”

“Goddammit is right,” you mumble, morosely resting your head on your palm.

“What did he say, by the way? When you told him to text less?”

You give a wry chuckle. "Well, he said it sounded alright to him."

"Son of a bitch. You – you two are messed up, man. Messed up bad. Why the hell can you not just say shit you really mean and actually want to instead of saying shit you don't? You don't wanna text less because you're busy, you want him to dote on you because you miss him!" Jackson sounds beyond frustrated. "And it doesn't fucking sound alright to him! It sounds scary, it sounds confusing, it sounds like something you would never say to him!" He groans. "But none of you would say that shit to each other! You’re choosing to be evasive and fucking plastic instead of honest, and falling deeper into your mess."

You reel from the onslaught of his harsh words, eyes widened and breath stuttering. Jackson isn't usually the type to pay so much attention to your relationship problems. But this time, you guess, he has garnered the depth of your unhappiness and thus has gotten so involved.

You realize he is right. Nothing good can come out of any turned tables, because Seokjin is, anyways, not even going to be able to work out the problem by himself. He may even go around talking to his friends about how you were being cold with him and not giving him any time, and still not realize he has been doing the same to you. He is thick like that. 

When his friends tell you tales of his compassion, you're unable to relate. You've never seen that side of him. He has probably grown up from that emotionally overwhelmed high school graduate who had made friends on a whim, the night of his graduation.

You certainly don't appreciate the emotional abstinence, though, and would very much rather prefer if he would open up a bit more. It would help you be more open with him, without fearing him calling you "stupid" in response.

But it’s still alright, you accept him with that thick brain of his, because he’s still only ever going to be the only one for you.

"How are you two gonna get around to having a proper chat if you just keep building more walls between you both?" Jackson asks after the long pause from your end, this time softer. “I’m sorry, babe, I was wrong. Giving him signs and making him realize shit won’t work. It was stupid of me to suggest that. It’s probably why you ended up being so caustic with him.

“No, no, it was all me, Jax. I could’ve chosen to not listen to you, but my ego got in the way, I guess. It’s not exactly easy, telling your boyfriend you’re feeling neglected. I mean, what if he laughs in my face and tells me I’m being paranoid? What if he thinks I have no regard for his career — or mine — because my priorities don’t align with his?” You bite your lip, shutting your eyes as your insecurities attack you.

“Hey, no. None of that is gonna happen if you really share with him what you’ve been feeling. No hints, no sarcasm, you’re gonna have to tell him point blank. Allow yourself to be raw. He’s the love of your life. You don’t have to protect yourself from him, right?”

You sigh. “Yeah, I know. You’re absolutely right, Jax. But I really have no idea how to even approach him, at this point. He’s either too busy with shoots, or with the guys, or some meeting. I cannot do this on call, because that always leads to misunderstandings.” You bite down on your lower lip, contemplating. “But I’ll figure something out.”

"Yes, you will. You always do. So, that’s good then. In the meanwhile, can you at least clean up this latest pile of poop? The talking less thingy is gonna make you two more distant, hun."

You scrunch your nose at his metaphor, but then your shoulders slump. "I don't know, Jackson. The way he so impassively agreed to it would make me sound really stupid if I take it back. And given what he keeps saying, he really doesn’t want me to sound stupid."

Jackson gives a snort at that. “Hah, funny. But listen. At the end of the day, he’s your boyfriend. You're gonna have to really decide if you're trying to get your boyfriend to give you more love, or if you're fighting a battle of egos and would like to bend him to you."

You bite your lip. “You make me sound manipulative.”

“You yourself confessed you let your ego come into this, one time. Don’t let that happen again. I’m trying to make you realize that complicated problems can have simple solutions, too. If only you’d communicate. Just talk to him soon, please, and make him understand why you’re hurt. Don’t carry on with this stupid cold war, okay? You gotta figure out exactly what you want, first.”

“You know what I want, Jax. You’re literally the only person that does, actually,” you remind him with a sigh.

“Oh, he is, isn’t he?”

You freeze, eyes bulging at the familiar voice. “I’ll… I’ll call you back,” you mumble before you disconnect the call and turn to look over your shoulder at Seokjin’s unreadable face. He stands with his arms crossed, still in his uniform but without the apron. “Jin… what—uh…”

“What am I doing here?” he scoffs, lips curling in distaste as he stares you down. “Well, I was going to the loo when I saw you sitting here. You looked upset, so I thought I’d check in on you on my way back.” He clicks his tongue, a dry chuckle tumbling out. “But apparently, you’ve got other people doing it for you, already.”

You wince, shutting your eyes. The one time he was finally going to give you some much needed attention — you sent a bad message his way. 

“So. Good to know there actually is someone who knows what you want. Would’ve been easier if it were me, though, given how I stand to be the one that is to deliver.” Seokjin sounds pissed off, and despite your irritation, you really want to make him understand.

You rub at your forehead. “Stop talking like that, Jin, it was just Jackson.”

“Wang?” He seems to seethe more, for some reason. “Of course, it’s fucking Wang!”

You frown, standing up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Seokjin looks at you incredulously. “You—do you not see how this looks? You have problems with me, Honey, but you choose to discuss them with him? Who’s he, your therapist?”

“He’s my best friend, Jin, someone I trust,” you grit out.

Seokjin seems to take it the wrong way, his agitated expressions slowly fading into a blank stare. “Oh. You trust him, as opposed to…” He trails off with a shrug, but the implication is as obvious as it can be.

“Jin—”

He raises a hand up, palm facing you as he looks away. “If you need some time apart, you should tell me in plain words. You know I’m not good at reading signs.”

Seokjin gives you a blank stare before turning around to leave the area. You stand rooted to your place, jaw dropped and eyes wide.

Some time apart? Has he lost his mind? 

He really is a huge freaking idiot who cannot pause to think what implications his words have. He seriously doesn’t recognize what all his “don’t be ridiculous/overdramatic/stupid” speeches do to you. You realize you should really make him understand. This has gone on for way too long.

But maybe you should take some time to yourself to cool off before that. You don’t want to say the wrong thing in your rage and complicate things further.

You sigh to yourself as you slump back into the bench you were sat on before.

You’d set out to tell your boyfriend you were feeling neglected, but you ended up making him think you want to be apart. How the heck did you get here?

You belatedly recall Jackson's words.

Why the hell can you not just say shit you really mean and actually want to instead of saying shit you don't?

You’re choosing to be evasive and fucking plastic instead of honest, and falling deeper into your mess.

Your usually dumbheaded best friend was right on this one, you realize. You should’ve just talked like a normal human being instead of letting Seokjin’s words get to you and get pissy in retaliation.

You give a weary sigh. 

Seokjin is grateful for the sudden busyness he’s got on his schedule, or he would explode from all the pent up frustration you have been causing him. 

He realized he wasn’t as upset with you as he was irritated, right after he walked away from you on Monday. He dropped you a text with some excuse of needing to stay back so that he wasn’t forced to ride with you in the car again, and later took the bus home. 

You had told Jackson Wang about what was troubling you, but not him. It made Seokjin feel upset, incompetent and more than a little insecure. Seokjin absolutely hates feeling insecure. Especially about you. You’re the singular most precious entity in his life — not that you are an entity, per se — and anything that seeks to threaten your position in his life or his position in yours, makes him lose his shit.

So it was understandable that he jumped to unfairly disproportionate magnitudes of conclusions that day. When he thought about it, later, he could easily tell that you are just mad at him and not actually contemplating leaving him, not even for a little while. Not that he’d just sit back and have you do that so easily.

Seokjin also hates overthinking, but that is all he did for the entirety of his Monday. 

Monday, though, was the last time he had time to overthink. Life got exponentially busier after that.

Immediately after his shoot on Tuesday, he received his agent’s call and was informed of his jam packed schedule for the remainder of the week. He was pulled into two separate magazine ad shoots on Wednesday, a perfume ad film drank up all of his Thursday, and today, a hair product ad film needed him to report to a sunrise point in the city at the ass-crack of dawn. The sky was still dark when he rode across the city with his agent at nearly four in the morning. 

And now, the afternoon sun beats down on his car as he drives back alone, his agent staying back to tend to some business. Stopping at a red light, he reaches for his spinach smoothie with one hand and his phone with the other. Ugh, he feels beyond tired.

Blearily, he looks down at the device around a yawn, fingers habitually reaching for your chat.

He took a week off from the restaurant and dropped you a text, late Tuesday evening, informing you of the same.

Honey✨❤👸 Hm, kay. Good luck x

Unsurprisingly, that stands to be your last message in his inbox. It’s been four days.

Sighing, he swipes a hand down his tired face and exits out of the message app. He went to bed at nine o’clock, last night, and owing to the way he has trained his body to sleep on command, he did manage to get a sleep of nearly six hours, too. But it was fitful and plagued with nightmares featuring you. 

Knowing he doesn't have to be at the restaurant until Monday and that his next gig isn’t until Wednesday, he cannot wait to get back home and drink his weight in alcohol before he sleeps his way through the weekend.

Just as he has moved past the intersection, his phone rings. 

Honey✨❤👸 calling...

He nearly spits the smoothie he just sipped at.

Coughing, he roughly jostles the plastic cup back in the holder and pulls up to a side of the road to pick up the call. “Hey,” he breathes into the phone, embarrassed at his desperation.

“Jin. Um, hi.” You sound awkward, as if you…have been compelled to call him due to some reason.

He is immediately worried. “Honey? Is everything okay, do you need something?”

He hates himself for being so concerned when you have been neglecting him for so many days – yet again, despite your spat at the restaurant – instead of finally talking to him about what’s bothering you, but he can’t help it. At the end of the day, you are the love of his life. 

“Yes, yes, I’m okay. It’s just, um. Can you pick me up from the restaurant?” you sound nervous.

But, Seokjin realizes, I was right. You do need something. He clears his throat. “Uh, okay, I guess,” he agrees before stopping short when he realizes the time. “Wait, it’s barely even two. Why are you leaving?” he asks, confused and a little concerned. You work your shift till five every day and till eight on weekends.

“Tomorrow is Halloween, Jin. We’re closing for the weekend, remember?”

Seokjin’s mouth falls open on a gasp. He really had forgotten. “Oh. Oh, okay. Yeah, I’ll be there in five, wait up.”

He swerves the car into the lane and takes off in the direction of the restaurant. 

He laughs at himself. He has been so caught up in work that he literally forgot Halloween. He wonders if this is what actual adulting is.

He is stopping before the restaurant within three minutes of your phone call, eyes immediately spotting your delicate figure standing on the sidewalk with your hands crossed against your chest.

You step down from the curb when you spot his car, and walk towards him. He watches your elegant legs as they beautifully fall in a straight line. Even when exiting your job as a waitress, you’re every bit the elegant model he met in college. Your hips sway tantalizingly, and something akin to longing swirls in his chest.

He composes himself quickly when you cross the car to get into the passenger’s seat. You awkwardly clear your throat as Seokjin busies himself with starting the vehicle, unsure if he should initiate conversation.

“Um, sorry about this. You were probably getting ready for shoot,” you finally say. “Byulyi dropped me off today. She wasn’t picking her phone up. I was trying to get a cab for half an hour. And the bus stop’s really far—”

“Hey, stop. It’s okay. You should’ve called me sooner.” Seokjin catches your apprehensive gaze on his oversized hoodie when he chances a glance at you. He sighs. “I was returning home from shoot, actually.”

He feels you stiffen, and he feels even more mentally drained at this. You used to be updated with his schedule to the tee — just short of having an actual copy of the calendar his agent carries on him. And the same goes for him with your schedule. This feels so wrong.

You are quiet for a while, your hands fidgeting in his peripheral vision.

“How—how was it?” you finally say, voice coming out like a croak.

Seokjin shrugs his shoulders. “The usual. Blinding, tiring, exhaustive. I did okay, I guess.”

He feels your gaze snap up to drill holes into his skull. Your eyes are wide when he checks. “Okay? Since when do you do anything less than amazing at shoots, babe?”

He feels endeared at your casual use of a pet name. “I had to get up at three in the morning and go through a skincare routine. Then drive across the entire city to get to the location, because they wanted to capture actual sunrise. I was more tired than excited by the time they rolled cameras, so.” He shrugs. “Can’t really say I gave my best today.”

You nod at his admission. 

Seokjin almost jumps when his phone rings, again.

Jiminie calling...

He feels you shift in your seat. His mouth sours at the reminder of that Sue girl that started off this entire tussle between you and him. Fucking Jimin and his conquests. What happened to the shy and more than a little glum looking freshman he let into his living space, three years ago?

Your hand suddenly reaches forth to accept the call, putting it on loudspeaker, immediately. Seokjin gapes at you, momentarily looking away from the road. 

“Uh…hyung?” Jimin’s confused voice echoes in the car. 

Seokjin snaps out of his daze when you gesture towards the device. “Wh—Jimin, hi, what’s — what’s up?” he stumbles his way through a haphazard greeting.

“Hyung, I needed a favor. Are you on your way back from the shoot, right now?” Jimin asks, and Seokjin sees you freeze in your seat.

He feels a perverse sense of satisfaction. Yes, take that! Park Jmin knows of my schedule better than you do! This is what you get for ghosting me! “I was, yeah. What is it?”

“Oh, great! I kinda need your help, hyung. My tire gave out. Could you pick me up from the Kappa hall?”

Seokjin scowls. “Yah! Who am I, your butler? Hop on a damn bus!”

He notices you pursing your lips, no doubt finding his agitation humorous — you always do. 

“Hyu~ng,” Jimin whines. “I would take the bus, but the next one leaves in forty-five minutes and I need to be back within an hour!”

“What? Why?”

“I started on my sem project really late, hyung, and now I gotta spend any time I can spare at the rehearsal hall. I’m meeting a choreographer here in an hour. Please help me out!” Jimin is still whining, and maybe his reasoning is kind of alright, but—

Seokjin is tired to his bones. He literally cannot drive all the way down to your apartment and then drive back to the university campus to pick Jimin up.

He sighs, wearily. “Jimin… I’m really tired.” 

“And I’m really desperate, hyung! Dancing is tough! And the subject I've chosen, tougher. I haven't done ballet since first semester, Freshman year! I have to work my butt off and be done in under two months."

Seokjin exhales, feeling beyond exhausted. But then your finger is tapping on the screen and the call has been muted. Seokjin’s surprised eyes fly up to meet yours. You look conflicted, biting down on your lower lip as you shake your head with a frown.

“You should go home and rest, Jin. Leave the car with me, I’ll pick him up.”

“Hyung? Say something?”

Seokjin blinks. “You…”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll pick him up, yeah. He’ll drop me off and drive back to your place.”

“Hyung?! Did you put me on mute, or what? I can't hear a thing!”

“Tell him you’ll be there in ten!” you say, unmuting the call.

“I’m in the car, the network must have glitched. I’ll, uh… be there in ten?” Seokjin nervously finishes off, looking at you in question. You give him a nod, blinking slowly. “Wait up, okay?”

“Oh my God, thank you so much, hyung!” Jimin practically squeals through the phone. “I’ll be in the ice cream shop across the building. I love you, hyung-nim!”

Seokjin rolls his eyes and disconnects the call. He looks at you from the corner of his eyes as he takes a right, now moving in the direction of his apartment instead of yours. “You sure about this? Jimin, um, knows. About our…” Seokjin doesn’t want to call it the f-word, because he would like to believe that you two aren’t actually fighting. “You being upset, I mean,” he settles for the easier alternative. “He might ask questions.”

You give a small huff of wry laugh. “I can handle it, Seokjin. I’ve known Jimin for almost three years now.”

Seokjin doesn’t like it when you address him by his full name. And so, his lips remain pursed for the remainder of the ride, only parting to tell you to “drive safe and text me when you finally get home,” and then he walks inside his apartment without looking back.

He hears his car come to life and then speed away. He shuts his eyes, leaning against the kitchen counter. Gathering his emotional as well as physical bearings, he opens the refrigerator to rummage through some leftovers to munch on while he breaks out a six pack of Budweiser. 

Before his fried rice has even reheated, Seokjin groans at the sight of an all too jovial Hoseok entering the kitchen with a glint in his eyes. “No, Hobi. Not now.”

“What? I didn’t say a word, hyung!”

Seokjin winces, shutting his eyes just as the microwave beeps. “I don’t have enough energy to deal with your general aura, right now,” he mumbles, extracting the piping hot glass bowl. He leans down to open one of the compartments beneath the kitchen table to get to the beer that he’s been dreaming of for nearly an hour, now. “I’m dead on my feet and—woah!” Seokjin gasps, cutting himself off.

Hoseok hops into the kitchen, coming around to stand behind Seokjin. “So you found ’em,” he says around a chuckle.

“Found ’em? This is you?” Seokjin whips his head around to glare at Hoseok up from his crouch. “Why is my liquor closet resembling a liquor shop, Hobi? Why do we have all this—” he turns around to read the labels, cursing under his breath. “Why do we have,” he pauses to count, “five bottles of Tequila and eight bottles of Vodka?”

Hoseok frowns in concern. “Eight? There should be ten, hyung, check again.”

Seokjin actually gasps, this time. “What the hell, Jung Hoseok? Explain yourself before I start throwing hands!”

Hoseok smacks a palm against his forehead, taking Seokjin by surprise, yet again. “Tonight’s the Halloween party, hyung! Did you actually forget?”

Seokjin screws his eyes shut, letting his head roll back with a frustrated whine. “No~o, don’t tell me it's tonight. Halloween’s tomorrow, right? Why is the party tonight?”

“Yes, hyung, Halloween in tomorrow, which is why it would be stupid to hold the party when Halloween is ending.”

Seokjin finds the logic to be very severely flawed, but his energy is draining out fast and he cannot keep up with this quarrel. There’s no point, anyway. He’s known about this party for nearly a month. And Hoseok isn’t going to postpone a whole party just because Seokjin is tired.

“You look tired, hyung. You should rest. Recharge yourself before the party, okay? There’s plenty of time.” Hoseok pats Seokjin on the shoulder with a kind smile.

“I’m not even in the mood to party, Hobi,” Seokjin mutters, reaching behind all the glass bottles to extract his pack of cans. 

Hoseok scowls at Seokjin. “Because you’re upset about your fight, I realize that. All the more reason to party, hyung! Take your mind off it for some time, why don’t you? You don’t even have to dress up, come as yourself.”

“I’d rather just drink myself to sleep and not wake up for the next twenty four hours.”

Hoseok blocks his path as Seokjin moves to exit the kitchen. “Is Honey coming?”

Seokjin sighs, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know, Hobi. Did you invite her?”

“No, hyung, because you said you would.”

Seokjin clicks his tongue. He completely forgot. “Then she isn’t coming.”

Without listening to his protests, Seokjin trudges upstairs with his food and beer. He will be forced to come down for at least a couple shots, he is certain, so he better make as much of the time he has on his hands as he can.

These days, it seems to be becoming a pattern for you to do things without really understanding why you do them. 

You nibble at your bottom lip as you recall how gaunt and pale Seokjin had looked when you sat in the car. You had been really self-centered as it is, not really keeping in touch with him for four days, and then reaching out when you needed help. You couldn’t bear to think, on top of everything, that he had driven you home despite his extreme exhaustion while you sat back selfishly and let him drive around the city to pick Jimin up when he looked like a ghost.

You shake your head at yourself as Jimin jogs down the road to enter the car, ten seconds after you texted him. 

His gaze is slightly hesitant when he meets your eyes, even though his smile is nothing but genuine. “Hello, noona. How come you are…” he trails off, gesturing around the two of you.

You start the car, shrugging one shoulder. “Seokjin came to pick me up. Now you’re gonna drop me off.”

Jimin gives you a huge smile, before his eyebrows suddenly lower. You look away, veering onto the road. “Wait. Were you in the car with him when I called?”

You chuckle. “Yes.”

“Oh,” Jimin mumbles around a small laugh.

You hum to yourself as you drive, distracting yourself from the thoughts that keep encircling your head. Seokjin is your boyfriend, no matter how mad you might be at him — you love him and care about him. Which is why you have tried to help him out. Not to mention, you felt slightly guilty, as it is, about calling him to pick you up. Why is your gesture of goodwill bothering you, then?

This is what you do for people you care about. Seokjin would do the same.

Your train of thoughts suddenly comes to a screeching halt.

Would he? Would he, really?

“You okay, noona?”

You jolt back from your thoughts, wide eyes turning to look at Jimin. “Wha—yes, yeah, I'm fine.”

He cocks an eyebrow at you. “You’re gripping the wheel really hard.”

You look at your tightly clenched fists, and immediately ease them. “Oh, uh. Sorry. A lot on my mind, I guess.”

“Understandably,” Jimin mutters, looking out of the side window when you turn to look at him.

You purse your lips and press down on the accelerator. 

A few beats of silence pass between you two before Jimin clears his throat. “Can I say something?” he asks you in a soft voice, looking nothing like the seductive persona he puts forth to get ladies falling in his bed. 

You exhale. “Sure.”

“You, um. You are not just hyung’s girlfriend, you know?” he says slowly.

You scoff. “Of course, I do. I am also the very best server my restaurant has ever seen and the best struggling model you’ll ever meet, on the side.”

Jimin snorts, before giggling with his eyes closed. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

You do. But you do not want to face it. You want to be selfish, for once. You do absolutely know that you have been ignoring all the boys in your anger at Seokjin, but you absolutely do not wish to do anything about it. Not until you’ve resolved this tense air between you and Seokjin.

“You are also a part of our little family,” Jimin quietly finishes.

You suck your lips in at that. The word “family'' really gets to you. 

He’s right, isn’t he? 

All eight of you — well, nine, now, with the addition of Taehyung’s girlfriend — have been a family since the day you met these guys.

You smile as the memories start to filter in.

You had had a giant crush on Seokjin since the very first time you saw him in your Freshman year. Well, having a crush on the guy wasn’t that unheard of given how handsome he was. It also helped matters that he modelled for the cover page of your university’s journal within his first month in college. What surprised you was his reciprocated interest when you both finally got to know each other, thanks to Byulyi. Your current roommate was majoring in photography back then, and somehow roped the two of you into modelling for her portfolio. Seokjin asked you out during the sixth month of your Freshman year.

You recall being introduced to Yoongi in your Sophomore year, when he entered your college as a Music major. You found him laid back, calm but really sassy, and fun to be around. The three of you often hung out together, and you took immense pleasure in singling Seokjin out with the two of your sarcastic back and forths.

In your senior year, Hoseok transferred to your college as a Sophomore, and Taehyung and Jimin entered as Freshmen. 

Hoseok was literally the most lively person you’d ever met in your life. There wasn’t a single moment of boredom next to him. He was easily given the responsibility of planning all your outings and parties, henceforth — a position he still holds with full competence.

Taehyung was usually found to be lost in his head more often than not in his initial college days. He was confused about his major for two entire semesters. With inputs from the group, when he eventually picked Art, he eased into college life. After that, he came out to be one of the weirdest and unwittingly funny guys in the group. You still don’t get how he was the first amongst all the boys to find him a girl.

Jimin was a really quiet and reserved individual, at first. He very rarely interacted with you all, choosing to stay holed up in his dorm room, instead, that Taehyung had forced him to share with him. You suspected he was recovering from a recent heartbreak. It became evident when he started dating someone within a week of getting into college, only to confess it was a rebound when he got dumped. The whoring around that began after the whole debacle is yet to cease, though. Obviously. 

Hoseok comes from a really well-off family, and had brought along with him the four-bedroom apartment he currently resides in with Yoongi, Jimin and your boyfriend. His uncle gave it away to him, rent-free of course, and he proposed to share it with the rest of the guys. Seokjin and Yoongi were immediately on board, more than eager to leave the chaotic dorm life behind. Taehyung, contrarily, decided he wanted to get the whole college experience and refused to quit the dorms. Jimin, then, left the dorm he shared with Taehyung to move in with the elders.

You met Jungkook immediately after your graduation on the boy’s eighteenth birthday. He instantly struck you as a smart kid, really good at singing as well as art. Yoongi disclosed he wanted to be a music major in your college, and you tried to encourage Jungkook about it, but the guy could hardly even look at you. It was cute but also hilarious how much he was scared of Seokjin, and by principle, you.

You believe that is still true. Now that you think about it, you're pretty sure you haven’t seen Jungkook ever actually relax around the two of you.

“Noona?”

You blink, coming back to the present as Jimin calls out to you. You take a deep breath, the memories hitting you with tender emotions. All these people are really precious to you, aren’t they? The bunch of you really are a family, aren’t you?

A sad smile swims up to your face. You miss the boys.

When he calls again, you turn to look at Jimin, questioningly. 

“Please don’t be mad at hyung,” he slowly says, looking down at his lap. In this moment, he looks quite unlike the Jimin you are used to and reminds you of, instead, the one you’d first met. “He might lack tact, sometimes, but he really loves you a lot. You’re his whole world. Whatever it is that you are angry about, you should tell him about it. I don’t think he would be able to figure it out by himself.”

This, you agree with. “I’ll try, Jiminie.”

“We all miss you. Especially Hobi hyung and I,” he says with a lopsided excuse of a smile. 

You resist the urge to fluff his hair. Jimin and Hoseok have been like the younger brothers you never had. You miss them, too. 

He suddenly chuckles. "And Yoongi hyung hides it well, but I think he's the one that misses you the most. No one helps him roast Jin hyung quite like you do."

You roll your eyes. "Of course not. It's a waste for Yoongi to even try to find a better partner at roasting Jin."

You spot your apartment building and pull up to it. 

“I’ll try to talk to Jin as soon as I can, Jimin, I promise. Don't worry so much about it,” you say as you step out, patting the boy once on his head. "I miss you all, too."

You give a small wave and faint smile to him as he drives away.

tagging: @shrimpmsg​

note: so! a lil bit of backstory and the infamous halloween party - how we feelin’ so far? the next part is ~12k words, too, and i’ll post it next wednesday, wait around~ 😘💕

SECOND PART OUT NOW: read here!

© jimilter | 2021

[ptergwen]

favorite crime

w/c: 1.6k

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood / death, lots n lots of angst

summary: you convince peter to go on the run after he’s framed for murdering mysterio, but he doesn’t want to drag you into his mess

a/n: this was completely based off the song by olivia lfmbsjfhs it’s so beautiful and i’ve wanted to write something for it for a while now so yee i hope y’all like ! pls lmk what you think <3

-

“we have to get you out of here, peter! come on!” you shout back to your boyfriend and tug his hand that’s laced with yours.

peter doesn’t budge. even when your grip on him tightens, when you pull him forward with all your might, he remains stoic.

there’s something he needs to do, and he’s been contemplating it since the day he met you.

it’s time to let you go.

“please, peter. i’m begging. i know you’re tired of running, but if we don’t leave now… they’ll find you,” you desperately choke out. peter squeezes his eyes shut, dreading what’s to come. “i can’t do this to you anymore, y/n. i… i’m sorry.”

emergency sirens and flashing lights approach the old apartment building serving as yours and peter’s latest hideout. the whole world is on the lookout for him, so you two stowed yourselves away in brooklyn for a bit.

you were hopeful the rumors would pass eventually — about how peter shot the beloved mysterio and left him to die in cold blood. they’re merely talk, of course. you’d personally seen the events of that day unfold on the tower bridge. hell, your class was right at the center of them.

quentin beck was pure evil, so rotten he defamed both peter and spider-man with a charge as cruel as murder. he’s wreaking havoc on him from beyond the grave, over a complete misunderstanding that peter had nothing to do with.

beck’s true source of anger is stark industries. yet, once again, peter ended up the collateral damage.

he was deemed a wanted murderer. posters revealing his name and face were plastered up around the city, a reward even being offered to whoever who turns him in.

you’d proposed the idea of skipping town until things settled. the way you saw it, it was peter’s only option other than prison for twenty-five to life. peter was panicking and couldn’t think straight, so he went along with your getaway plan.

a few weeks later, he’s regretting it.

you’ve been the one person he could trust through this madness. you’re right there to console him, to protect him just like he does you. through sickness and health, life and clearly death, you stick by peter’s side. you left everything behind without a second thought, for him.

peter loves you more than you’ll ever fully be able to comprehend, which is why he can’t ask you to do that. this is his battle to fight, not yours or anyone else’s. his.

you suddenly freeze in your tracks, turning around to look at peter. “what are you talking about? you’re fine, pete.”

his eyes roam everywhere except to yours as they water. blinking back tears, he fixes his gaze on your intertwined hands. you notice a stray tear fall down his cheek and use one of your thumbs to wipe it away, then press a reassuring kiss to his lips. peter lets himself reciprocate momentarily before jerking back.

“please just… stop being so nice to me. you’re making this way harder than i wanted to to be,” he rasps and squeezes your hand tighter. you’re still lost, absolutely clueless about what he’s referring to.

“look, pete. i wanna hear you out, baby. but… i think it should wait until we get to jersey.” you keep your voice as calm as possible, though you’re terrified for both of you. since the feds know your location, they’ll have the place surrounded any minute.

hopping cities isn’t cutting it anymore, so you’ll have to change states this time. new jersey is next on your list.

using his strength to his advantage to hold you in place, peter seizes both your shoulders. his bloodshot eyes lock with yours. a stern expression coats his features, one you’ve seen from him yet never been on the receiving end of.

“we’re not going to jersey, y/n/n,” he declares, the sirens starting to grow louder. you feel a pit forming in your stomach. “we have to!” you immediately protest. “it’s not gonna be easy finding our way, but it’s the last-“

peter cuts you off, voice softer now. “no, no. that’s not what i meant.” he waits a beat and inhales a deep breath, aiming to settle his nerves. it doesn’t.

“i’m going to jersey. you’re staying.”

tears cloud your vision the second those words leave his mouth. you shake your head furiously back and forth, willing him to take them back.

part of you was always afraid peter would get second thoughts. not only about running away with you, about ever being with you. you’re both so young. your entire lives are ahead of you, and peter won’t allow you to risk your own because this isn’t worth a single bit of it.

he’d warned you how dangerous it was to be associated with spider-man. it’s why he held off on telling you about his alias for the longest he could. you naturally began asking questions whenever peter bailed on dates and showed up to school covered in bruises. he hated lying to you, using his stark internship as an excuse, so he finally came out and said it.

peter sometimes wonders if you’d be better off not knowing at all. it’s too late now, though.

“wait, what? why- why can’t i go with you?” you plead, peter’s fingers coming up to cup your cheek. his fingertips lightly caress your skin. “i’m a criminal, y/n. you’d be my accessory.”

it takes everything in him not to break down and sob along with you.

you lean into his palm, already missing his touch. “i don’t care... i don’t give a fuck. i just wanna be with you, peter.” peter literally has to bite his tongue to fight the urge to cry. hands grabbing either side of his head, your fingers twist in his hair roughly. “i’ll do anything, pete. i really will, i swear. name it.”

peter threads his own fingers through yours again, bringing your hands to his chest.

“i’m so sorry, angel. i never should’ve gotten you involved,” he murmurs out and pecks your forehead. “you have nothing to prove to me, okay? you’ve done more than enough. i’m gonna return the favor.”

you let out a strangled whine, your knees buckling as you come to terms with the gravity of your situation.

this is it. this is the end of yours and peter’s story.

“hey, none of that. it’s okay,” peter coos, neither of you convinced. the tastes of salt and metal flood both your senses. he helps you back up and hugs your waist, peppering your cheeks in more kisses. you’re bawling now, arms wound around his neck, clutching at his tattered jacket.

free tears escape peter’s eyes at last. “i love you. i love you so goddamn much, y/n. never forget it,” he nearly whispers. you sniffle and push your forehead against his. “i’m not saying it back ‘cuz that feels like a goodbye, and i- i can’t say goodbye to you yet.”

“it’s not a goodbye,” peter reassures you, rubbing circles on your lower back. “it’s, uh, it’s a see you later. i’m gonna figure something out and be back to you before you know it. can’t get rid of me that easy.”

that earns a faint giggle from you, peter managing a grin. you two attempt to ignore everything happening beyond these walls, only focusing on the other.

“then, um…” you clear your throat. “i love you.” his smile dwindling slightly, peter nods and meets your gaze. “i love you too, baby. you should probably get going soon.”

affirming his advice, a booming voice that sounds from a microphone commands peter to come out with his hands up.

your worry spikes, instinctively drawing peter in closer. he forces himself to put on a brave face for you.

“i’m scared, pete. where… where am i supposed to go?” you rush to ask him. “home, y/n/n. go home,” peter decides, pressing a final kiss to the top of your head. “just don’t get caught, and you’ll be fine.” carding your fingers in his undone curls, you sigh. “easier said than done, but i’ll try not to.”

you’d never pictured that the sweet boy with a heart too big and brain even bigger, who sings you to sleep even though his voice sucks and spends his last dollar buying you flowers, would be accused of first degree murder. it isn’t true or fucking fair.

what’s worse, he has to bare this storm alone now.

you lift your heavy backpack off the cold ground, slinging it onto your shoulders. peter stares out the window and down at the assembly of swarm troops crowded together.

“are you gonna be okay?” you catch his attention. he snaps back into reality, pulling your hood up so it covers your head. you’re wearing a sweatshirt of his, after having gone through all your own clothes. “i hope so. are you?” peter repeats your question. “i hope so,” you echo.

tying your hoodie strings tight, peter offers a smile. “say hi to may for me. ned and mj, too.” it’s going to be tough to face his family and friends after this. “i will. i’ll let them know you’re alright.” you kiss his cheek, placing a hand on his chest. peter lets your touch distract him from the mess he’s about to be hit with.

“thank you, y/n. i’ll see you soon, baby. you have my word,” he promises, stepping back so you two can go your separate ways.

you watch him with fresh tears threatening to spill.

“i’m gonna hold you to it. be safe, spidey.”

[screamin-abt-haikyuu]

A Comedy of Errors. Chapter 1: Negotiations

Background: Y/N is a transfer student who joined Karasuno High in her second year because her family shifted to Miyagi. She is a volleyball player and plays as a wing spiker (ace) in the Girl’s Volleyball team.  

Pairing: Karasuno x fem reader || Romantic Pairing: Asahi x fem reader

Genre: Comedy and slight fluff at the end

A/N: Comedy is back!!! I am so excited to be writing fun stuff again because the response on the last funny story was so great and I had so much fun writing it and imagining the funny scenarios (you should definitely give it a read, I am sure you will enjoy it). As soon as I had the idea for this story, I just got straight to writing and haven’t stopped. Hope you enjoy!!

The first time Asahi saw you, it felt like he was seeing the sun for the first time.

Since the boys’ basketball team has been occupying the boys’ gym a lot, lately, Daichi asked Michimiya if he could use the girls’ gym in the evening. 

Michimiya, of course, had been more than happy to say yes to Daichi and handed him the spare keys in her excitement. In fact, keys were nothing. if Daichi had asked her for a kidney, she would probably have ripped her own out of herself and handed it to him. 

However, even though she had said yes to him with such confidence and assured him that she would make the arrangements for the boys to practice, there was a giant hurdle standing in her way. 

Once she had squeezed every extra second she could talking to Daichi, as soon as he left, she turned and ran to the floor where the second years’ classes were. 

“Y/N!” 

You were walking in the corridor, chatting with one of your friends, when you hear Michimiya’s voice. You turn around to see her running towards you. 

“Captain!” you say, surprised to see her here, “What’s up? Everything okay?” 

“Y/N can I talk to you about something?” she says, panting, “Preferably, alone.”

“Uh- sure,” you reply, your curiosity increasing. You say goodbye to your friend and walk with your captain to the empty stairwell. 

Once you have made sure that no one is around to hear you, you ask her what’s up. Michimiya looks really nervous and is playing with her fingers. 

Michimiya (M): Uh, so. Um. I might have done something stupid. And I need your help to fix it.

You raise one eyebrow questioningly.

M: Um - so - uhh - so um you know how the basketball teams have been occupying the gyms a lot more lately because their qualifiers are drawing near?

Y/N: ...yeah? But haven’t we already come up with a schedule that works for both the teams? 

M: Y-yeah

Y/N: So? Are they going back on their word now? Do they want to use the gym earlier?

M: No.

Y/N: Then?

Michimiya is looking at the ground when she says: “It’s not the girls’ basketball team. It’s the boys’. They have been hogging the boys’ gym and I kinda, sorta might or might not have promised Daichi that I would make arrangements for the girls gym to be free after our practice today so that the boys can practice there.”

Y/N: You did WHAT?!

M: Shh not so loud, someone will hear us!!

Y/N: Sorry. Captain, you KNOW that the girls basketball team will be using the gym after us, how could you promise Daichi you’d have the gym empty for him?!”

M: I know, I KNOW, but I just got so excited that he was talking to me and that he was actually asking ME for help for once that I said yes without thinking. I’m sorry.

Y/N: Okay, well, do you need help in telling him that the boys can’t have the gym later?

M: No, no, no, no, no, please no. He has always helped me and motivated me to keep going. You haven’t been around for too long but he has really supported me as a fellow captain and this is the first time that he has asked for help, you know? I really want to help, please!

Y/N: But how are we going to do that? How can they practice when the girls basketball team is in our gym?

M: Well. I was thinking we could switch our practice times for today and let the basketball team have the afternoon slot.

Y/N: Didn’t you have to fight with their captain for HOURS to let us have the earlier slot? Besides, Momoi hates you, I doubt she will agree to exchange slots on such short notice.  

M: She does hate me and everyone else on our team. And everyone else in the school, probably. That is why I need your help! Please help me talk to her. You’re new so she probably hasn’t had time to dislike you as much yet.

Y/N: That... doesn’t sound very reassuring. But I guess there’s no harm in trying. I guess that also means we won’t be practicing today.

M: Yes, but I will make it up to you guys somehow, I promise. 

Y/N: All right. Let’s get this over with. Lunchtime is about to be over soon.

M: Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best, Y/N!

You laugh it off. “By the way, Captain, you have food on your face.”

You note that you probably should not have pointed this out as you watch Michimiya’s soul leave her body as she realizes that she held an entire conversation with Daichi with food sticking on her face. 

Once you have consoled her, you both walk back to the third floor to Momoi’s class, Class 3-3. She is sitting at her desk alone, eating her lunch. She sees you and Michimiya approaching and her expression immediately turns sour. 

“Momoi-san. Hello. How are you doing?” you try to flash a smile at her but it probably looks more threatening than friendly.

“Oh, forget the polite bullshit, just tell me what you want and let me eat my lunch in peace.”

You bow slightly as you say, “We- um- I was wondering if you would be so kind as to exchange the practice time slots with the Volleyball club today?”

She frowns and her eyes narrow. “And what makes you think I would want to do that? Your captain here almost bit my ear off for the earlier slot for you guys.”

“Hey! I did no-” Michimiya starts to say but shuts up after you shoot her a glare. She continues, “R-right. About that. Yes, I know some heated words were exchanged. But really, we wouldn’t be coming here to you if it wasn’t really important.”

“And why should I care about something that’s important to you?”

“Please, Momoi-san. We promise we will make it up to you. As a peace offering, you can take the afternoon slot on any day of your choosing.” you say, your face as pleading as you can make it appear.

“Hmmmm. I have thought about it and my answer is no.”

“But-”

“Actually, I’ve changed my mind. You have 10 seconds to tell me a very good reason as to why you want the gym later today and if I think it’s worthy, I will agree to us using the gym earlier. However, if I don’t deem it worthy, then this conversation is over,” stating which, Momoi started counting backwards from 10. 

10 - 9 - 8 - 7

You start to panic, trying to think of a valid reason quickly.

6 - 5 - 4 - 3 

It’s too soon for you to think!!! 

“Y/N’s DYING!” Michimiya’s panicked voice filled the whole classroom. Everyone turned to look at what’s happening. 

“What?!” You and Momoi shout at the same time.

Your eyes are wide open and glaring at Michimiya as you try to process what she’s just said.

Momoi looks at you, her eyes narrowed with suspicion, “What does she mean you’re dying?”

“Uhh by dying... she means that I’m...I’m... dyeing!” you stutter, your brain going a hundred miles an hour. 

“You just repeated the word.”

“Yeah, n-no, I mean that she doesn’t mean I’m going to die. It’s the other... dye. Hair dye.” 

“So let me get this straight, you want us to exchange practice time slots because you want to dye your damn hair?” she said, incredulously.

“N-No. It’s my grandma. Sh-she’s old. And she has been a widow for the last 20 years. A-and it’s her first date tonight in years!” you say, a believable lie finally forming in your head. “A-and when I was leaving for school today she asked me if I could dye her hair for her and help her get ready because she hasn’t done anything of this sort in years. T- that’s why we had to ask you on such short notice.”

“As cute as that is, why can’t the others practice without you?”

“Oh well, because I can’t help her get ready by myself! I’m gonna need at least three of my friends helping me and they’re all from the VBC, including our Captain here. I really need their help. I mean, have you seen me? I have no sense of fashion at all,” you say, hoping a little self deprecation might help your case.

“Well, I have never seen you in casual clothes so I can’t say but I have heard that you are a giant nerd so that probably checks out. Sigh. All right, fine. You can have the evening slot today, I guess. I wasn’t particularly keen on staying late at school tonight anyway”

You and Michimiya bow down and thank her profusely. You hear the bell ring and you start to walk out of the classroom.

As soon as you’re in the corridor, you turn to Michimiya, “I’m dying?? Really??”

“I’m sorry, the 10 seconds were about to be over so I panicked and said the first thing that came to mind.”

“and your first thought was me dying?!”

“Well... it worked, didn’t it?”

You both look at each other and burst out laughing loudly. She was right, as ludicrous as it was, you managed to turn it around and make it work. You both walk towards her classroom, still laughing. 

“Thanks a lot for doing this, Y/N.”

“It was no problem at all.” you say, smiling.

“Let me treat you to meat buns after school! We’ll ask the whole team to accompany us. As a thank you. Please don’t say no, I insist!”

“Okay. That would be nice. We can celebrate me dying.”

You both burst out laughing again. You wave her goodbye and start walking towards your own classroom, still chuckling.

As you are walking, you don’t notice the tall guy walk past you. You don’t notice his long brown locks, tied back into a neat bun on his head. You don’t notice the blush he has on his face as his grey-haired friend is laughing teasingly at him. 

But he noticed you. Asahi had been walking back to class after having lunch with Sugawara when he saw you. Well, actually, he spotted Michimiya first and was about to go say hi to her when he realized she was with someone. And as he watched, the two of you burst into peals of laughter. Oh, what a laugh you had. It rang so clearly in his ears. For some reason, he was dumbfounded. 

It felt like he was seeing the sun for the first time and he was transfixed. He felt like he was floating.

He was brought back to earth when he felt Suga’s finger on his chin, pushing his jaw upward. He realized that he had been open-mouthed staring at you. His face turned red. Thankfully, you hadn’t noticed him. He looked sideways at Suga and found his grey haired friend looking at him with extreme amusement on his face. 

“Are my eyes deceiving me? Did Asahi Azumane just notice a girl? More than that, did he like what he saw?”

Asahi turned a deeper shade of red and kept walking. “N-no! It’s nothing like that! I just saw M- Michimiya and I was going to say hi but I stopped when I saw she was with someone!”

“Sure, sure,” Suga teased, “Someone who you couldn’t take your eyes off of.”

A classmate overheard their conversation and chimed in. “Oo are you guys talking about that girl who was just here with Michimiya-chan?”

Asahi: N-no!

Suga: Y e s 

“Yeah, she’s pretty, isn’t she? Too bad she’s dying.”

“.......”

WHAT?!

Chapter 2 is up!

Chapter 3 is up, too!

Dun dun dunnnn. Of course I had to end this on a cliffhanger. Hope you liked the first part!!

Let me know if you would like to be tagged when I upload the next one! 

Likes, reblogs, follows, comments are much appreciated!! Please do not repost.

The best is yet to come, though, I am so excited to finish this story, I love it so much already aaaaah!!

Buy me a Kofi! <3

[morganaspendragonss]

Hello 🥰 Whump fic idea :)TK lands in the hospital, again. But this time they're serious, serious injuries, he is under a respirator, he is not breathing on his own, the doctors do not give him much chance of survival, they even advise it would be the best to prepare for the worst and say goodbye, just in case. Owen calls Gwen, she's arriving the same day with Enzo and baby junior. When in the hospital they find out how it happened and that it's mostly Owen's fault (I don't know, for example, he allowed Tk to enter the unstable building to tend to the patient, or whether he made someone else angry and this person unloaded it on TK, or Owen decided to do something reckless and TK wanted to save him or it is The arson situation from 2x12 so Gwyn arrives pregnant, without a baby of course), Gwyn slaps him twice and Enzo punches him right in the nose, breaking it, for risking TK's life. Fortunately, despite the bad prognosis, TK wakes up, but after he took his sweet time being in a coma.

holly's august extravaganza day 3: the meetings for those in my wake

thanks for the prompt! i really loved writing this one though i need to confess to toning it down a little? idk but with the way it was going it didn't feel right to have enzo break owen's nose. i hope you still like it!

ao3 | 3.3k | major character injury, coma, angst with a happy ending

For years after the divorce, Gwyn came to learn that any call from Owen was almost certainly bad news.

TK got in a fight.

TK overdosed.

TK was shot, he’s in the hospital.

Over and over, until the first words out of her mouth whenever Owen’s name flashed up on her screen were, What’s wrong?

Things have been better in the three years since her time in Texas. Gwyn suspects it’s partly TK’s influence—he’s been more than enthusiastic in getting to know his baby brother, and Isaac has latched onto TK despite only seeing him in person every few months or so. But they’ve talked as well, she and Owen, and they really are doing better. They’re almost like friends now, which is why Gwyn thinks nothing of it when he calls just after she’s put Isaac to bed for the night.

“Owen, hey,” she greets. “What’s up?”

The silence she’s answered with is the first sign that something’s wrong.

The sob that follows is the second.

“Owen?” Gwyn repeats, louder this time, her heart leaping into her throat. She sits down heavily on the sofa as she waits for Owen’s response; there’s only one thing that could make him cry like that, and tears prick at Gwyn’s eyes as she imagines TK hurt again, or worse.

“Gwyn,” Owen eventually manages to gasp out, voice wrecked. “Gwyn, it’s TK. He’s… You need to get here. You need— It’s not like last time. They don’t know if he’s going to— They don’t think— It’s bad. Really bad.”

Owen breaks off, crying harder, and Gwyn claps a hand to her mouth. She remembers well how devastated he’d been when he called about the gunshot, but this a whole other level. Gwyn’s head spins with the potential implications of that and she finds her breath coming in sharp gasps, but it’s Owen’s next words that knocks it from her altogether.

“They think we should say goodbye.”

The rest of the story comes haltingly—someone got angry after his son couldn’t be saved on a call, he came to the firehouse, he attacked TK—but Gwyn barely hears it. Her boy is in the hospital again and this time…this time he might not be coming home. She can’t understand it; she spoke to him just two days ago, they made plans for he and Carlos to visit for Isaac’s birthday, and now…

“I’m so sorry, Gwyn,” Owen finishes. She feels a flash of that age-old urge to scream at him, but she fights it off, not wanting to wake Isaac.

“I’ll be on the first flight over,” she promises, then ends the call, sliding off the couch to the floor. Her phone falls from limp fingers and harsh sobs tear from her throat, muffled by the press of her fist against her mouth.

Enzo finds her there an hour later and immediately takes her in his arms, not complaining about her tears soaking his shirt. When she tells him what happened, he insists on joining her, and Gwyn allows herself to take that shred of comfort and run with it.

She thinks it’s the only comfort she’s likely to get right now.

The next flight isn’t until morning, so Gwyn spends a sleepless night packing and unpacking their suitcases and making phone calls with the firm and her clients to cancel everything for the foreseeable. She has the brief, terrible thought about whether she should pack funeral attire, which almost sends her into a panic attack as reality hits her all over again.

Enzo saves her from it, gently guiding her to bed, but not before she packs the clothes anyway.

Isaac seems to pick up on her mood when they’re hurrying out of the house, remaining mostly quiet aside from the odd question about where they’re going. He perks up considerably when he finds out they’re heading to Austin, babbling about seeing TK, and Gwyn has to blink hard to keep from crying again. Enzo reaches over to take her hand, and he barely lets go until they’re landing in Austin.

*

The entrance to the ICU looms before her, and Gwyn feels stuck. There had been a part of her, still, that had hoped to find TK miraculously awake and on the mend, like the last time she had made this trip. She doesn’t want to believe that he’s here, hurt, maybe dying.

But he is, and she’s forcefully reminded of that fact when a kind-looking nurse approaches her hesitantly.

“Ma’am? Can I help you?”

Gwyn blinks at her, her brain taking a moment to catch up. “I, um. I’m here to see my son. TK Strand.” She pauses, then shakes her head, cursing herself internally. “Tyler Kennedy Strand.”

The nurse’s entire demeanour changes, a sympathetic smile taking over her face. “This way.” She leads Gwyn through the ICU, then points at a door near the end of the corridor. “Tyler’s room is just there. I promise, we’re doing everything we can for him.”

Gwyn nods absently, her gaze stuck on the door the nurse had indicated. She walks forward slowly, the room seeming to get further and further away until, suddenly, she’s standing on the threshold, and she sees her son.

TK is barely visible, his face half-obscured by the ventilator, half by bruises, and heavy gauze covers his forehead. His arms, resting limply at his sides, are littered with scrapes, and if Gwyn squints, she can just about make out more bandages peeking out from under the hospital gown.

She’d thought that seeing him would make it all real, but she feels separate from everything somehow, only one thought going through her mind on repeat.

This is not my son.

A quiet whisper draws her attention to the figure sitting at TK’s side. Gwyn has to suppress a gasp as she takes in Carlos’s appearance; she hasn’t seen him in person since the wedding last year, and his pale face and red-rimmed eyes cut a stark contrast to that day. He hasn’t noticed her yet, wholly fixated on TK, one hand gently stroking the tufts of hair poking out above the bandage. His lips move and Gwyn knows she should walk away, but instead she finds herself leaning closer, straining to hear Carlos’s words.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he’s saying. “I know you’re fighting and I know you’re going to try as hard as you can to come back to us—believe me, Ty, I am praying every day to see those pretty green eyes of yours open again. But I—I want you to know that it’s okay if you can’t. If it gets too hard, if you need to let go, you can. I already miss you like crazy and I really, really, don’t want to live the rest of my life without you, but the thing I can’t stand more than that is the idea of you suffering.

“Come back if you can, but if someday you find you can’t, remember that I love you and we’ll be okay. I promise.”

Carlos sniffs and ducks his head to place a gentle, lingering kiss on TK’s cheekbone. It’s such a tender, intimate moment, but it quickly shatters when Carlos looks up and spots her, his eyes going wide. “Gwyn. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were there.”

She waves him off, willing herself to finally step into the room. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I should have said something, but I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Carlos nods, giving her a small, sad smile, which Gwyn does her best to return. She pulls up another chair and sinks into it, reaching out to take TK’s hand. She’s startled by the coolness of his skin, and more tears burn in the back of her eyes.

“What did the doctors say?” she asks, clearing her throat and twisting her body towards Carlos, though her eyes never leave TK.

“That it was a miracle he made it through surgery,” Carlos says, sighing wearily. “Eight stab wounds, too much blood loss, damage to his organs, broken ribs—that’s all bad enough, but they’re most worried about his brain. He took at least two blows to the head, and add that to the fact he wasn’t breathing for a good few minutes… They keep saying not to speculate, but we all know the odds here.”

Carlos’s voice breaks and Gwyn reaches out to comfort him, feeling sick to her stomach at the revelation. Why anyone would do this to her boy, she can’t comprehend; she finds herself both wanting answers and feeling unable to take any more.

Owen chooses that moment to appear in the doorway, looking every bit as wrecked as he sounded on the phone. “Gwyn,” he says roughly. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Carlos moves as if to give them privacy, but Gwyn shakes her head at him, cutting off his protests before he can even get them out. “You stay with him, Carlos,” she tells him. “We’ll talk in the hall.”

They head to a quiet spot not too far from TK’s room, and Gwyn turns to face Owen, holding her arms. “What the hell happened, Owen? Why is our son lying in there, not even breathing on his own?”

A flicker of a frown crosses Owen’s face. “I told you—”

“No, you didn’t.” Gwyn clenches her jaw, staring him down. “You said he’d been attacked, not that some maniac had used him as their personal punching bag.”

A few more seconds pass before Owen relents, sighing. “There was a call,” he starts, voice heavy with sorrow. “A car accident; dad and his kid were trapped inside. We got the dad out but the son was stuck pretty good. It took a long time to free him and by then it was too late—EMS did their best, but he was gone.

“The dad went ballistic, screaming at all of us, but especially at TK. We don’t really know why, but it was probably a convenience thing; TK had been the one to break the news, he was the closest person—the guy wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. He threatened him, tried to hit him—the cops had to arrest him eventually, but you know TK. He refused to press charges, said that the dad was just in shock and that he understood.”

Gwyn smiles a little at that; her son has always been too forgiving for his own good. It’s never come back to hurt him this badly before, though.

Owen pauses, throat bobbing as he seems to work up to the next part. His voice is quiet, and he seems reluctant to meet Gwyn’s eyes. “He showed up at the firehouse a week later—the dad, I mean. He said he wanted to apologise and, I swear, Gwyn, he really did seem genuine. None of us wanted to let him near TK, but ultimately it was TK’s decision. They went round the side of the house to talk; when neither of them came back after twenty minutes, we went looking.

“By that time, the guy was gone, and TK was…” He stops and shakes his head, swallowing hard. “He could barely breathe. Tommy and Nancy did what they could and they got him here quickly, but we have no idea how long he’d been like that before we found him.”

Gwyn’s head snaps up, a white-hot anger flashing through her. “I can’t believe you,” she hisses. “You left our son alone with a man who had already threatened him for twenty minutes, Owen.”

Owen frowns. “I told you, he seemed genuine. And TK—”

Gwyn can’t help it; she slaps him. “Don’t you dare,” she grounds out, crowding into Owen’s space. “Don’t you dare act like this was his fault.”

“I wasn’t—”

Her arm moves on instinct, but before she can connect again, a hand closes around her wrist. Gwyn turns to find Enzo staring at her, brow wrinkled in confusion.

“Gwyn, what’s going on?”

She shakes her head and takes a step back from Owen, freeing herself from Enzo’s grasp. “What’s going on,” she responds tightly, “is that he is part of the reason why my son is half-dead in there.”

Enzo gapes between them. “What?”

She ignores the question, needing to focus on anything else to keep her anger from overwhelming her. “What are you doing here anyway? Where’s Isaac?”

“He’s with Grace and Judd, they offered to babysit so I could come here. What—”

“Hang on,” Owen interrupts. “What is he doing here? I figured he’d stay in New York with the kid.”

“Isaac is TK’s brother, Owen,” Gwyn says, turning on him again. “And Enzo has just as much right to be here as any of us; he was more of a father to TK than you were sometimes.”

Owen’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Him? You’re joking, right?”

Gwyn isn’t sure what happens next, who starts it, but soon they’re all yelling, insults and accusations flying around the ward. There’s a furious nurse heading their way, but before she can say anything, another voice cuts through the argument, quiet and trembling but still somehow powerful.

“Get out,” Carlos says. “All of you.”

They all turn to him, Gwyn’s lips parting in shock. Owen takes a step towards him, holding his hands out in a gesture that’s probably meant to be pacifying.

“Carlos—”

“I mean it, Owen,” he snaps, harsher than Gwyn has ever heard him before. “You all screaming at each other is the last thing any of us needs, least of all TK. The only person to blame in all this is the guy who attacked him, and he’s already in custody; he’ll get what’s coming to him. If TK—” Carlos breaks off, clenching his jaw and staring down at the floor. He closes his eyes for a moment, before breathing out shakily and looking back up at them. “If anything changes, I’ll call you, I promise. But you can’t be here right now. Go, please.”

Carlos doesn’t wait for a response before turning on his heel and going back into TK’s room, reassuming his position next to the bed. Gwyn watches him for a second, nodding when Enzo pointedly takes her elbow.

“He’s right,” she says, directed at Owen. “We should go.”

Owen glares, gearing up to argue again, but he must think better of it as he suddenly slumps, all the energy draining out of him. “Right,” he mutters. “Right.”

They file slowly out of the ICU, closely watched by the hard eyes of the nurse from before. Gwyn spares one last look before forcing herself forwards; if getting here was hard, walking away is a thousand times worse.

*

Three weeks pass with no change and, crucially, no improvement. Gwyn spends more time with Carlos than she ever has before, and she hates that it’s her son being comatose that has brought the two of them closer. A tentative peace exists between her and Owen and she knows—truly, she knows—that the attack wasn’t his fault, that there was nothing that could have stopped it.

But she can’t help but be angry that, once again, her son was seriously hurt and she wasn’t around.

She takes Isaac to see TK once, when the worst of the bruises have faded a little. She worries that he’ll be scared, and he does seem to hesitate when they reach the room; in truth, Gwyn hadn’t wanted to bring him at all, but he’d kept asking about TK and she’d found herself helpless to do anything but acquiesce.

They still haven’t told him what’s going on. No-one knows how to. All Isaac knows is that TK is a little hurt and he needs rest, and even that knowledge seems to upset him.

Once he gets used to the sight, Isaac stretches his hands out to the bed. “TK,” he says simply, looking pleadingly up at Gwyn.

She hugs him close, trying to smile for him. “TK’s asleep, sweetie,” she explains. “He needs rest.”

“When wake up?”

“I don’t know, baby. I don’t know.”

*

Three weeks pass, and the doctors start talking about options and next steps. It’s obvious what that’s code for—they want to pull the plug. They’re told to take all the time they need to discuss it but, ultimately, the decision will be Carlos’s, as TK’s husband and next of kin.

Gwyn knows what choice he’s going to make; it’s the same one she, or anyone else in his position, would make.

That doesn’t make it any easier to bear, for any of them.

Gwyn finds him in the hallway, bent over with his head in his hands. She goes over and quietly sits in the chair next to him, placing a comforting hand on his back.

There’s a long silence before Carlos sniffs and turns to her, his face the picture of devastation. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this, Gwyn,” he whispers, voice cracking. “How am I supposed to just give up on him like that?”

She shakes her head. “You’re not giving up on him, Carlos. You’re letting him go.”

“I don’t know how to do that either.”

“None of us do.”

Silence again, but this time, it’s Gwyn that breaks it first. “Listen, Carlos, I know this is hard. God knows I wish none of us were even here. But we are, and we have to do what’s best for everyone, including TK.”

“I know that,” Carlos admits. “I just don’t want to lose him.” He closes his eyes and leans into Gwyn, allowing her to wrap him in a hug. “I wish we had more time.”

Gwyn’s heart breaks all over again, and she squeezes his shaking shoulders. “We’ve got time,” she says, though she knows that’s not what he meant. “As much as you need.”

The sob she’s answered with tells her there’s not enough time in the world for Carlos to say goodbye to TK.

*

The call comes in the middle of the night. Dread pools in Gwyn’s gut as she accepts it and lifts the phone to her ear, her hands trembling.

“Owen?”

“Gwyn. TK, he—he woke up. It was only for a few seconds, but he woke up, Gwyn. The doctors said it was a miracle; they think he might actually recover.”

Gwyn gasps, a sob crawling up her throat as the news sinks in. It’s everything she’s been praying for ever since that first call, and all she can think about now is getting to TK.

“I’ll be at the hospital in fifteen,” she says. She ends the calls and raises her hands to her face, wiping away the tears beginning to fall from her eyes.

Maybe this nightmare is finally coming to an end.

*

TK is off getting tests when Gwyn arrives, but she’s finally allowed back in the room an hour later, Carlos and Owen on her heels. The ventilator has been removed, replaced by a nasal cannula, and his eyes are open—barely to slits, but Gwyn doesn’t care. TK is awake and alive, and that’s all that matters.

As soon as she’s in the chair by the bed, she reaches out for him, her touch feather-light as she strokes his cheek. “My brave boy,” she whispers wetly. “My brave, brave boy.”

TK’s head rolls on the pillow so he’s facing her and he mumbles something that’s probably meant to be a greeting, but the words jumble together and come out as gibberish.

Gwyn thinks it’s the most beautiful sound she’s ever heard.

They’ve all been briefed about the risks of brain damage and all the potential lasting consequences which could impact the rest of TK’s life. But right now, as she holds TK’s hand with Carlos on his other side and Owen at her back, Gwyn chooses to take solace in the constant rise and fall of TK’s chest and the heart monitor beeping out a steady rhythm.

There’ll be enough time for worry later; for now, her son is alive, and Gwyn can’t think of anything else that's more important.

[thatharringrovehoe]

Part 1

Dear Steve

Bambi

Princess

Harrington. I know I'm never going to give you this. So I guess I can write whatever the fuck I want. It's not gunna matter when I leave anyway so. I'm really fucking sorry I kicked the shit out of you. There was a lot of shit I was dealing with that night and you happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The plate was to much. Now that I know you a little better I know you weren't doing any perv shit with Max. She won't tell me what happened that night, but she kept a copy of one of the NDA's she signed. So whatever the fuck it was I know you protected her. After I beat the shit out of you. Fuck. I'm sorry I'm a coward and you're never going to read this. But I just can't. I knew I was gunna get stupid over you as soon as I pulled up that first day at school. Saw you standing with Wheeler by you fancy ass car and wanted to throw you into the back of the Camaro, treat you right. But I couldn't. I can't. My dad would kill me. And I mean literally. It's the reason we moved to this bum fuck nowhere town. He caught me sucking off some cute twink by the boardwalk and kicked my ass all the way to Sunday. I was in the hospital for a week and by the time they discharged me we were moving the next day. Guess he figured Hawkins was gunna set me straight. Which jokes on him cuz I met the prettiest boy I had ever fuckin seen. Fell halfway in love with him when he punched me in the face that November. Fell the rest of the way when he let me stay at his place after my dad laid into me real bad three months later. Told me I didn't deserve it. Broke out his dads fancy scotch and we got black out drunk at 3 in the morning on a Tuesday. Fuck I wish I could tell you. Because I'm gunna miss you so goddamn much when I go back to Cali. You don't know how many times I almost asked you to come with me. I could teach you to surf and we'd both get crappy jobs. Rent a shoebox apartment. But I then I think of that family you talk about. The kids and the dog and the white picket fence. I can't give you those things. I can't ask you to give up those things. Hell you don't even like men so even if I could it wouldn't matter. It's why I can't give you this letter. It's why I gotta high tail it back to Cali the day I graduate without telling you. Because I know if I see you I won't be able to. I can't say goodbye to you Bambi. I'd end up staying in this shit town just to be near you. Live the rest of my life dying inside while you fall in love with some pretty rich girl and raise those kids you want so bad in your nice big house. I gotta leave for the both of us. Because I love you.

Steve crumples up the note after reading it for what must be the 500th time. Twists it gently in his hands as he waits on the stoop of what is hopefully Billy's apartment complex. God this was a stupid idea. It's been six whole months since Billy up and left without a fucking word. He's probably over Steve. Hell he probably has a boyfriend. Looking the way Billy does Steve wouldn't be surprised. Gutted but not surprised. The California sun beats down on him as he waits for Billy to get home. Whenever that is. It's December and Steve's body is used to frigid Indiana winters. Not this sunny sea breeze heat. He twists the note a little harder, bounces his leg as he waits and waits and waits. God he's drawing some looks. Probably. He's been sitting here for going on two hours now and is starting to realize packing up his BMW with a bag of essentials with nothing but a note and a maybe address to go confront the love of his life was probably not a very well thought out plan. God what was he even gunna say?

Hey Billy, Max found your note while taking out the trash and gave it to me because she knew I was fucking heartbroken when you up and ditched me without a word. And I just thought I would drive for three whole days just to see if you still mean it even though it's been half a year and you've probably forgotten all about me and I'm sorry I never told you that I lo-

"Steve?"

Steve's head whips up and his heart fucking skips what must be 10 whole beats. That can't be healthy. Because there stands Billy fucking Hargrove carrying a paper bag of what is probably groceries. God he looks good. His hair is longer, dirty blonde curls reaching just past his shoulders. His skin is a deeper shade of tan under his white wife beater and denim shorts. And beyond all that he looks, relaxed. Carries himself with an ease he didn't have back in Hawkins. California has been good to him.

"What are you doing here?"

What the fuck is Steve doing here? When Max gave him the note he hadn't even thought about not going to see Billy. Had begged her for the address Billy had given her before he left just in case shit with Neil ever got bad. In case she needed to leave. But they hadn't spoken since and there was no guarantee that Billy hadn't moved. That he'd even made it to California at all. Just packed his car and drove. He feels kind of stupid now. Kind of wishes he had thought of something to say before hand instead of just flying by the seat of his pants.

"Hello Earth to Harrington?"

Right. Fuck. He's just been staring at Billy like a fucking freak.

"I- uh. Hi Billy."

Wow Steven real smooth. Great Job. Very natural.

"I just um. I...got your letter."

Billy looks confused. Fuck, he did forget. You're an idiot Steve Harrington.

"You know what I'm starting to realize I may have jumped the gun here and uh.. I'm gunna go."

He stands up from the cement steps and feels the stretch of his sore muscles. He hadn't really moved once he sat down to wait. Billy puts down his groceries.

"Woe woe hey you don't have to-.. Oh shit."

When Steve looks over at Billy he's gone a little pale despite the tan. Is staring with wide eyes at the crumpled stationary clutched in Steve's fist.

"Steve. I can..Fuck I can explain."

And you know what? Fuck this. Steve doesn't need to hear this when he already feels like the worlds biggest fucking loser. Drove all the way across the country just to see a boy who had moved on. Had left Steve behind. Just like everyone else.

[weelittleweasley]

Amortentia | Draco x Reader

Prompt: After having a large crush on Draco for two years, you decide to move on for your own sake. But what happens when you are in potions class and what you smell is not that of your current boyfriend, but of an old flame?

Warnings: angst, a lil fluff at the end

Requests status: Open and ready for some requests

A/N: New fandom, same old writer hehe. I thought I’d come back after a long hiatus and write a little something. Quarantine/the pandemic has me back in my teenage self. In this, we go through year 4 to year 6, so GoF to HBP :)

The bellows of the professor at the front of the classroom fall into muffled murmurs as you go in and out of daydreams, fiddling with the quill in your writing hand. As you draw nonsense pictures in the margins in your notebook, you fantasize scenarios in your head of the boy you’ve had your eye on since the beginning of year four at Hogwarts. In your head, it all made sense. The two of you were pure blood Slytherins, competitive and ballsy, ready to fight at a moment’s notice. That’s what you adored so much about the blonde boy. He may have his moments, but he always seemed to be ready for whatever. 

The corners of your mouth twirl upwards into a smile as you think about being able to wear his jumper, smelling his cologne on the collar. You think about his hands on your hip bones, squeezing them lightly as he peppers small, soft kisses on your neck and collarbones. Yearning to lace your fingers with his as he dips down his head to place a tender kiss to your l-

“Miss (Y/L/N), do you have anything to add?” Professor Moody snaps you from your daydream as you sit straight up, feet planted on the foot, picking your quill up back in writing position. You clear your throat and shake your head back and forth. “If you have nothing to add, I’d recommend you quit daydreaming and focus on what is going on at the front of the classroom.”

You breathe out a small, “Yessir,” before returning your attention back to your work. Small giggles are let out across the classroom, relishing in your embarrassment. Heat rises to your cheeks and you try to make yourself smaller by sinking into your chair a little and ducking your head downward. Peering up through your eyelashes, you try to sneak a look a Draco who is seated only two tables ahead and to the left of you. As you do so, you see that he was looking at you the whole time, him chuckling with Blaise Zabini before returning their focus to the blackboard. Embarrassment washes over you yet again, caught in the act of looking at the boy you fancied. 

Within the hour, Moody dismisses class and you gather your things swiftly, trying to leave class without Moody stopping you to ask why your mind was elsewhere today. As you fling your satchel across your body and tuck your notebook under your arm, you scurry out the door only to be stopped by Blaise. 

“Would you move it, Zabini? I have to get to astronomy,” you push Blaises large chest with your hand, before booking it in the opposite direction. You can’t escape him, or so it seems, because he walks beside you now down the corridor to your next class. “Are you obsessed with me or something? What’s your deal?”

Blaise laughs, “I didn’t know that you get so distracted during class, doodling and dreaming, (Y/N). What’s more interesting than a class with Moody?” He nudges his shoulder into you, making you stumble a little bit as you walk.

Now getting really annoyed since he brought up what happened in class, you stop in your tracks and hit him with your notebook. “Leave. Me. Alone. You. Arse,” you speak in between slaps and Blaise just laughs as you swat him. Before you can walk away from him, he quickly snatches your notebook from your hands and your eyes grow wide. If he flipped through the pages just right, he could see all of your Draco doodles. “Hey, give that back! That’s private!”

You jump for your notebook, but with no avail since Blaise was significantly taller than you. He carelessly flips through pages, “Now what does Miss (Y/L/N) write about in class? Taking diligent notes?” With one final shove, your notebook falls onto the ground, wide open to the page where you have written Draco Malfoy in script in the margins of your notebook, so much so that it creates a border around your note in the center of the page. Blaise lets out a deep chuckle, “Ho-ho! That’s where little Miss (Y/L/N)’s thoughts have been! The Slytherin Prince!” 

Before Blaise can torment you anymore, you grab your notebook off the floor and slam it shut. Your heart is racing, Blaise is in Draco’s inner circle and if Blaise knew about your crush, that meant Draco was bound to find out. Your anxiety swells and your chest tightens. Your grip becomes iron on your notebook now, unwilling to surrender it if someone dares to snatch it away from you again. You look up at Blaise and if you look up any longer at the shit-eating grin he has on his face, you’ll start crying. As if this day could not get any worse. Blaise immediately recognizes your facial expression as a girl who has just been hurt and he instantly retaliates, regretting what he just did. “I told you that was private,” you manage to speak out before walking away briskly.

The sound of quickened footsteps follow you and Blaise voice says, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just thought we were having fun, that’s all!” he attempts to rationalize. You ignore his feeble attempt at an apology. “I won’t tell Malfoy. It’ll just inflate his ego,” he attempts to humor you.

“I would hope not. That would be the most human thing to do,” you spit at him. “Just leave me alone, okay? I think you’ve done enough damage for today.”

“(Y/N)!” Blaise calls out before you turn around to enter your next class. “Please. I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean it.”

You look at him and by the look on his face, you can tell he means it, which is surprising. You sigh, “I believe you. Just...don’t do it again. And please, don’t tell...” you don’t want to say his name in fear if you say it, he’ll come right around the corner. “...him.”

Blaise offers you a warm smile. “Your secret is safe with me.” You let go of your held breath, some tension releasing from your shoulders. “Can I just ask? What is the fascination of him? Is it his hair?” he asks, making you laugh lightly. There were many reasons you liked Draco; his personality, his smile, his drive, the cool blue gray color of his eyes, the way his nose scrunched up when he laughed. There was so much to like. Blaise notices your pregnant pause and smiles, “Never mind me asking. I have a feeling it will take too long to get your response.”

“Goodbye, Zabini,” you trail off, trying to slip into your class before he stops you yet again.

“Wait! Um,” Blaise stutters. “So, the Yule Ball is coming up soon. And I know maybe you were hoping to get asked by a certain...someone else,” he winks as you roll your eyes, “but I was wondering if you wanted to go with me?” he delivers the last part confidently, like he was giving you a sales pitch. 

You quickly thought about it. Although the chances of Draco asking you were slim to none, you still were holding out that maybe he noticed you and wanted to take you to the Yule Ball. But the proposition with Blaise sounded like fun. Blaise knew how to have a good time and you rather go with another Slytherin than with some half-blood from another house. And as selfish as it was to say, you would probably be invited to get ready with the other Slytherin girls like Pansy which meant more time to see Draco. Offering him a sweet smile you reply, “I’d like that. Now, if you’ll excuse me I need to go to class, Zabini.”

Blaise smiles and lightly blushes, but turns away, hoping you would not catch it. But you did before you slipped into your astronomy class before the professor started.

Soon enough, the Yule Ball rolled around and like you had previously thought, you found yourself in Pansy’s room, getting ready for the ball. You lightly tugged the rollers out of Pansy’s hair, helping her finish getting ready as she rambles on and on to Daphne Greengrass about their magical creatures class. A small smile tugs on your lips as you remain bystander to the conversation, enjoying the ridiculousness of the conversation. Your thoughts are disturbed when Pansy says, “Oh, wow, (Y/N). When you said you could do hair, you meant it!” She shakes her head side to side, causing her loose curls to shimmy across her shoulders. You had to admit she looked beautiful. 

You shrug, “Don’t mention it. Could you zip up the back of my dress?” You turn around, feeling the zipper close, the dress fitting around your figure tighter. When you turn around, you take a look at yourself in the mirror. Iridescent green fabric clung to your body fabulously, a deep v plunging down to your chest, your dècolletage shimmering in the light. It was a stunning dress; your mom had sent it over from London. It was her dress when she went to the Yule Ball at your age. 

“You look radiant,” Daphne tells you, placing her hands on your shoulders. “Blaise is going to be drooling.” Pansy and Daphne giggle, hoping you would join in. But you just offer them a small smile in return, secretly wishing there was another boy who would be gawking over how radiant you looked. “Something wrong?” Daphne asks.

Pansy looks at your face, “Do you not wanna go to the ball anymore?”

“No!” you exclaim. “I do! I do want to go!” You calm down both the girls as they dramatically sigh. “I just did not picture myself going to the ball with Blaise,” you confess. 

The girls exchange confused expressions before looking back at you. “What do you mean? Do you not fancy Blaise?” Pansy asks.

“No! I like Blaise! He’s a charming boy, don’t get me wrong. And he’s very handsome.”

“So, what’s the problem?” Pansy asks. 

He’s not Draco, you think to yourself. But instead of that you say, “I just fancy someone else.” That was probably too much information to give to the girls, you know they would take and spread some sort of rumor, but you give them the benefit of the doubt. “This does not leave this room,” you say sternly. You extend both of your pinky fingers to Daphne and Pansy, making them pinky promise and kiss their thumbs: your ritual for making promises. 

“So...” Daphne starts. “Can we know who you do fancy then?”

Your anxiety peaks again. If you even murmured that you liked Draco, Pansy would probably loose her mind. Pansy basically called dibs on Draco when you stepped foot at Hogwarts. In all seriousness, Pansy has fancied Draco longer than you, so it just seemed inconsiderate and rude to tell her that you had feelings for the same platinum haired boy. “You’ll find out later. Besides, we should get going now,” you change the subject.

You make your way down the stairs and the winding halls of Hogwarts before arriving at a tall staircase leading to the Ball’s entrance. Your arms are linked with both Daphne and Pansy’s as you descend the staircase. Your eyes roam the floor, looking for a certain blonde haired Slytherin and you almost immediately find him. And to your surprise, his eyes have found you. Your pair of eyes burns into his, creating a tunnel vision. The orchestra that plays in the other room becomes white noise and everyone else seems to disappear. It is just you and him now. He look absolutely dashing. His suit fits him excellently and his hair is perfectly swept back. His eyes are open in wonder as he watches you descent the staircase, looking absolutely regal. This moment feels like forever and you never wanted it to end. But it sadly does when you both realize you haven’t looked at either of your actual dates to the ball. Your eyes drift away from his blue ones and they meet Blaise’s brown ones instead. He is smiling big at you which makes you laugh. When you make it down the stairs, he meets you at the bottom and grabs your hand like an absolute gentleman. “You are unearthly, (Y/L/N),” he whispers before kissing the back of your hand. 

Smiling at the compliment, you thank him. “You are not too bad yourself, Zabini.” He did look great. His suit was tailored perfectly to his tall, muscular figure and his shoes were shined so bright that you could practically see your reflection in them. 

“Shall we head in there?” he asks, offering his arm to you to hold. You smile and take his arm. But not before taking one look at Draco. He kisses Pansy’s hand gently, but as he does this, his gaze is on you the whole time and only breaks when he comes back up to look at Pansy and give her a smile.

This was going to be a long night. 

Since that night, your relationship with Blaise grew. You went from friends, to something more than friends, to boyfriend and girlfriend. You didn’t expect to end up dating Zabini after the Yule Ball, but you decided that maybe pursing something with him was more realistic than chasing after Draco. He obviously had a thing for Pansy and Pansy for him and who were you to ruin that? So you let yourself use Blaise as a distraction or someone else to focus on rather than pining over Draco. However, it did drive you mad when you would all be in Slytherin common room and you sat on the floor next to Blaise and Pansy would sit on Draco’s lap when there was plenty of room on the couch. You also did not feel bad when Blaise would make fun on Pansy having an obvious crush on him. You would hide your laugh as Blaise pulled you closer to him. 

That being said, as you got closer with Blaise, you got closer with his friends. Which meant having to face Draco and swallow your feelings. You always felt like such a poser when you were with Blaise. You knew it was wrong to date someone who genuinely liked you and you liked someone else. But you just crossed your fingers and hoped that your feelings for Malfoy would melt away and your feelings for Blaise would grow. Of course, with your luck, nothing happened. Your feelings for Draco were just solidified if anything. He was cheeky and smart mouthed, which you just loved. He kept you on your toes. Blaise wasn’t like that; he was predictable. Draco would make jokes that only you two would hear and you would laugh until your ribs shook. Blaise has never done that. But it wasn’t right to compare Blaise to Draco; it was an unfair competition. 

Regardless, you stayed with Blaise. Too afraid to break up with him and too afraid to tell Draco how you felt, you stayed in a relationship where you lied not only to yourself but to another person every day. A good person at that. Blaise was a great guy and every day you held his hand, shared a kiss, cuddled up together, you felt guilty. You were hurting him more and more with everyday. And you were hurting yourself by being in this relationship for so long. But you stayed. 

Back in a classroom, this time Slughorn’s potions class, you stood next to Pansy waiting for the class to begin. You looked across the room to see your boyfriend toss you a wink as you lightly smiled. “I love you,” he mouthed as you sighed. 

You did love Blaise. So much. But not in the way he wanted. And yet, here you were, mouthing an “I love you too” back to him, causing him to smile wide. You turn to Pansy, “So what are we supposed to be doing today? If it’s boring, I’m going to use the washroom.” Using the washroom was always code for going back to your room. 

Pansy giggled, “Today’s class should be good. I heard Slughorn has Amortentia today.” Your heart sank. Amortentia: the most powerful love potion in the world. People say that it smells different for everyone according to what they are most attracted to. “Your should be easy. Smells just like Zabini I bet,” she nudges your side as you offer a convincing smile and girlish giggle. “I’m sure I know what mine smells of...” she trails off before looking over to Draco who was too involved talking to Zabini to notice her gaze. 

Slughorn starts class, reciting off lists of potions to which Granger completes his every question without fail. You roll your eyes, “Some people are just such show offs,” you whisper to Pansy, making her laugh. You join her, causing Draco to look your way, more interested in what you were laughing at rather than the lesson Slughorn was giving. You look away from Draco and focus back on the lesson, hoping it would distract you from those familiar gray eyes. 

Hermoine talks more about Amortentia before prompting Slughorn to ask your classmates to come up at random and speak what they smell. Granger goes first and describes a horrific combination of mowed grass and spearmint toothpaste. Others go after and then Blaise volunteers to go next. “Mr. Zabini, please, go head,” Slughorn says before Blaise steps up to the small caldron and take a whiff.

“I smell...morning rain...vanilla...and jasmine,” he smiles as he finishes his sentence, looking right at you. Your heart sinks. Blaise had smelt your perfume and everyone in the class knew it. Those who were friends with him laughed as Pansy let out an ooooh. You told her to shut up with a jab to the side as she continued to tease you. 

“Miss (Y/L/N), you’ve been awfully quiet this class. How about you come up and smell?” Slughorn proposes.

You freeze. Absolutely not. There was no way you were going to get up there and smell the Amortentia. You knew exactly what you were going to smell and you were not prepared to tell the class and your boyfriend that what you were smelling was Draco Malfoy. 

“I’m fine, actually.”

“That was less of a question and more of a demand, Miss (Y/L/N),” Slughorn rephrases, earning a few laughs from Gryffindors to which you shoot them a dirty look, causing them to stop. “Well?”

You look at Slughorn and gulp. He offers you a gentle smile and you can’t deny the man any further. You sigh and slowly walk up to the caldron. You are a foot away and already the scent slaps you in the face. It almost makes you cough from how strong it is. Right next to the pot, you look down at the bubbling liquid with pink fumes evaporating from it. Closing your eyes and iInhaling deeply, you get chills. The scent makes you forget where you are. What time it is. Who is watching. It’s euphoric. It’s perfect. It’s him. The smell of musky cologne, leather polish, and green apples dance around your nose and your stomach erupts with butterflies. 

“What do you smell?” Slughorn asks, snapping you out of your daydream.

“I’m sorry?” you ask.

“What do you smell?” he repeats. 

Suddenly, you remember that you have to tell the class what you are smelling. Or who you are smelling. Once you said what you smelled, everyone would know who you were talking about. Pansy would know. Blaise would know. Draco would know. You try to think. What in the world does Blaise smell like? Can you lie about this stuff? For Merlin’s sake, what does Blaise smell like?! “Um...” you try to concoct your way out of this situation. You try to think of what your boyfriend smells like, but the scent of Malfoy is clogging every single sense. 

“Say it then,” Slughorn urges you.

“Cologne, leather polish, and green apples,” you blurt, confessing what you were most afraid of to the class. You slowly open your eyes and see the smile that was once on Blaise face quickly fall. His eyes pang with hurt and pain and your heart drops into your stomach. You wanna run over to him and tell him how sorry you were and how much you loved him, but this thing with the Slytherin prince was unshakeable. Too hurt to look at Blaise anymore, you glance at Pansy, who is just enraged. Her ears are bright red, eye locked onto you, unwavering. Her eyes dig into your soul and you can hear her saying in your head, “You’re bloody joking, right?” You don’t dare look at Draco, but in the periphery you see him just staring at you, lips parted, breathing softly, eyes burning into the back of your head. 

Slughorn notices the tension and attempts to diffuse the situation. “Alright, everyone take your seats,” he dismisses. You walk quickly to Pansy who swiftly moves away to you and toward Blaise who sits with Draco, taking up a whole table with no room for you like usual. Instead, you find yourself sitting with random Ravenclaws for the rest of class, unable to think straight about what just happened. The look on Blaise’s face was enough to have you in tears and the look of betrayal on Pansy’s face drove you mad. You spent the whole class thinking, what have I done? 

As soon as class is dismissed, you watch Blaise’s movements, wanting to catch him or Pansy after class. Pansy leaps off her chair and to the door and you quickly follow suit. “Pansy!” you call after her. “Pans, please! Please can we talk about this? Please do not shut me out!”

“Why not?” she yells back. “You lied to me! You could have told me how you felt! You knew how i felt and yet you still lied to me!” 

“I know, but I thought what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you. But I just ended up hurting you anyway and I am sorry, Pansy. I am so sorry,” you attempt to reconcile with your best friend as she fumes. 

Pansy shakes her head. “I just need space. Away from you. Can you at least respect that?” she sarcastically says. “There’s someone else you owe a bigger apology to,” she tells you before trotting away down the hall back to the Slytherin common room. 

You turn around and there stands Blaise, stoic and tall. His eyes are soft and full of so much pain. You could cry. You start to cry. “Blaise,” you croak out. “I didn't mean to hurt you. Please know that is the last thing I wanted to do. When you asked me to the Yule Ball, I thought that it would be a good way to get over Draco, but I-I don’t know what happened? Nothing happened, I guess. I value you and your friendship so much. Blaise, I love you, I’m so sorry. I thought not tell you how I really, truly felt would protect you.”

Blaise sighs, “(Y/N), I know you didn’t mean to. For Merlin’s sake, I’m not a git. I knew you still liked Malfoy.” Your eyes widen. Huh? Before you could ask every single question that flurried into your brain, Blaise stops you and says, “From that moment in the hallway during year four until now, I knew. I thought that the longer I stayed with you, I could convince you that I could love you more than he could. But I don’t think that’s true...(Y/N), I love you. What either of us did was not right and I think we just need space from each other right now.”

You shake your head. You couldn’t lose Pansy and Blaise. That would be too much. “No, I can’t lose you, Blaise. I need you,” you beg, holding onto his forearms. 

“It isn’t for forever, darling. Just for a little. I think we both a need a little space from each other right now,” he holds your face in one of his hands and you lean into his touch, soothing you almost instantly like it has done so many times before. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” You nod, him wiping away your tears before replacing it with a gentle kiss on the apple of your cheek. “Besides, I think you have to talk to someone else,” he whispers in your ear, before walking away, revealing Draco standing behind him.

Your breath hitches in your throat. His eyes burn into yours just like that night at the Yule Ball. A small smile on his lips dances as a last tear strolls down your cheek. He takes a few steps towards you and you instinctively take a few steps back. Draco looks a little hurt that you moved away from him so quickly. You gulp, not knowing what to say, what to do. Who would in a situation like this? Lightly sniffling, you wipe away your tears with the sleeve of your robe, not breaking eye contact with him. Draco opens up his mouth to say something, but then chooses not to. He closes his mouth, pressing his lips into a line, thinking of what to say. You watch him think, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he finds the right words to say. 

“Uh,” he starts. “How lo-”

“Year four,” you answer, knowing exactly what he was going to say.

He lightly laughs at how prepared you were to answer him. He nods. “I thought,” he lightly speaks, looking at you with a small smile. He is trying so hard to get you to open up to him. Or even crack a small smile at him. But that seemed really impossible right now. The two people who you cared about more than anything just told you they needed time away from you. You felt like an awful person. Although you should be in Draco’s arm right now, stroking his hair, kissing his lips, telling him how happy you were, you were standing four feet away from him, a shaking mess, tears still flowing from your eyes. “Here,” he reaches into his pocket and offers you a handkerchief. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, accepting his token, blotting your eyes with the green silky cloth. You blow your nose into it, loudly. You look at him, watching his reaction, wondering if you should return a snotty handkerchief. “I...I can wash it for you.”

He chuckles, “Don’t worry about it. Keep it if you need it.” You smile and tug it away in your bag. Silence falls over you two again. “Can I stand next to you?” he asks permission, knowing how fragile you are right now. You nod and he slowly makes his way towards you, stopping about three inches away from you. Your breath hitches in your throat when you look up and see the proximity of your faces from each other. “May I hold you hand?” he asks, you shaking your head yes slowly. With that, he grabs your left hand in his large hand, pressing yours flat against his before intertwining the fingers. It makes you smile softly which makes his heart flutter at your excitement. Draco so desperately wants to hug you, squeeze you, kiss you. But he knows he needs tread lightly. “I wanted to take you to the Yule Ball,” he confesses as he looks at your hands intertwined.

Your head shoots up and your eyebrows furrow. “You did?” you ask, not believing him. He shakes his head yes. You pause. This made no sense. “Then why didn’t you ask me?” you ask.

Draco sighs. “I didn’t know you well. Zabini said he wanted to ask you. I stepped back.” So much has happened today you cannot wrap your brain around what has just been said. “But now...I know you better. And now that you and Zabini are no longer...” he trails off, looking up at you with those chilling blue eyes that make your knees weak and heart putty. 

You want to scream yes. Wrap your arms around him. Kiss him. Hard. Breath in his scent that has haunted you for nights on end. Finally, he was yours. You were his. But that would not be right. It wouldn’t be fair to Blaise. Or Pansy. Or you. Or Draco. You needed time. “Draco...” you say, breathily.

“Yes?” he asks, eyes so bright and shimmering with so much hope and longing. Merlin’s beard, he wanted to kiss your tear stained cheeks and hold you close, bodies becoming one. “Is something wrong?” he asks, worry creeping into his words, his free hand that isn’t holding your hand, cups your cheek. “Please tell me. I don’t want to wait any longer. I can’t wait any longer.” 

His words make your heart break, knowing that you needed to wait longer. Just a little bit longer. “Draco...” you repeat, the tears welling back up in your eyes, slowly dripping own your cheek, but Draco is quick to wipe them away. “I...” you start, but your voice fails you. 

“Take your time,” he breathes. Oh, how he was so right. 

“I need time,” you repeat after him. 

“Yes, take your time. Breathe,” he says, thinking that what you are saying is applying to just now. 

“No, Draco,” you tell him, reaching up to his wrist, pushing his hand away from your face. “I need time. To process this. Blaise, Pansy...us...I need time.”

His eyes fall and the once happy expression on his face is fading fast. But he knows that you were right. It would be too fast. Too much for the both of you. You both needed time to think, recover, and come back to each other.

“And I will wait for you,” he reassures you, both of his hands cupping your small ones. “If I waited this long already, I can wait a little while longer.”

It’s like he knew exactly what to say. His words make you smile softly and you feel just a little bit better. Your smile makes me him smile. So you just stand there, your hand in his two large ones, smiling at each other. He places a tender kiss on your knuckles and then another to your forehead. His actions make your heart flutter, knowing that if this is what a relationship with Draco was like right now, you were in for a treat. You whisper a weak thank you and he shakes his head, laughing that you would thank him for something like this.

“Now go get some rest, darling,” he presses his forehead against yours and you flutter your eyes closed, loving the feeling of him being so close to you. It felt so good to finally have him next to you. You pull away, give him a gentle smile, and start to walk back to the Slytherin common room. 

Draco watches you walk away, down the hall. In his head, he thought to himself, I can wait a little longer. Because you are worth waiting for.  

[webeattheuniverse2to1]

I’m happy, are you?

During Meredith's trial, Alex calls Izzie about the letter and realizes how much his life has changed.

Alex had just finished calling Addison Montgomery about Meredith's trial, and she told him she would email him a letter of recommendation.

He's flipping through the phone book deciding who to call next when he sees her name.

He thinks he should go over, but it is Izzie after all. She would definitely say something positive for Meredith. And so, without even giving him a chance to think about it too much, his fingers press her contact.

He waits a few seconds, and is about to hang up when he hears her voice after years.

"Hello?"

she says, her voice as crisp and cheerful as she remembered it. "Izzie? Hi," he hears her gasp on the other end of the phone before she reacts. "Oh my god, Alex Karev? Is that really you?" he rasps. "Yes, it's me" "Woah, it's... it's good to hear from you" "Yeah...you too..." he says looking down as the memories slowly flood back. "Um, I...I called you for Meredith, she's... in trouble" he hears her chuckle on the other end of the phone "What did she do?" "Well, she switched her patient's name with her daughter's name to get her a life saving surgery since her father didn't have insurance... and now she's facing medical licensing, so I'd need you to write a letter of recommendation or something" "Woah, well, not that unexpected, it is Meredith after all" she laughs. "Yeah" he says. "Okay, well...I'll email it to you, okay?" "Yeah, that's great, thanks" he replies.

Silence falls between the two, before she asks "How are you Alex?" "I'm fine" "Well, are you married? Do you have... kids, how are you?" she asks. He sighs, a small smile growing on his face as he plays with his wedding ring. "Yes, I'm married. We don't have kids, well, not yet at least" he can hear her smile too, even though he can't see her. "And what are you now? What's your specialty? And you?""Pediatrics, I'm a pediatric surgeon, and she's a surgeon too, general surgeon""Wow, I'm happy for you Alex, I see you've grown" she giggles, and he does the same. "Well, you could say that. How about you? How are you doing? Are you married? Have you-" he is interrupted by the voices of children talking in the background, singing, as she tells them she is on the phone. "Children..." there is a moment of silence, before she answers. "Yes...yes actually. Two, twins, they're six years old, Alexis and Eli," she says. "Wow" "Yeah...and now I'm a cancer surgeon, and I'm married" "Woah Izzie, I'm really happy for you" she says sincerely. " Alex," she says, after a moment of silence. "It was nice to hear your voice again" "Yeah, for me it is, the same..." "Okay, so... um, I'll send you the letter... by email.." "Yes" she sighs. "Bye Alex" "Goodbye Izzie" , she says hanging up.

Sighing, he sets the phone down on the kitchen island, next to all the papers and the list of people to call. He is deep in thought as he takes a sip of his beer.

Suddenly the door to the loft opens, and Jo appears, smiling at him. "Hey," she greets him. "Hey you," he smiles, drawing her in for a quick kiss. "So, how did it go?" "Good, I managed to call everyone" "Well, I'm glad, and Meredith will be too" she says, shaking his hand with hers before turning to the fridge and grabbing a beer for herself. "Are you okay?" she asks him, seeing his thoughtful expression. "I called Izzie" she freezes for a moment "Oh" then sets the bottle down on the shelf and sits down in front of him. "How is it...how did it go?" "Good. She's moved on with her life. She has two kids and a husband, so...she's happy," she sighs, fiddling with his fingers. "Are you okay?" "Yeah... yeah, just... it was weird, hearing from her after years, but..." he smiles "I'm happy for her, really" he says, and she gives him a small smile back. "And?" "We've both moved on...so I'm happy...and I'm happy with you" he says, smiling at her. Jo giggles, leaning forward to peck at his lips. "I love you," he whispers to her. "I love you too."

[chuckbass-love]

Hi lovely, I’d love to request a Loki x Male Reader writing if you’re up for it! One where Loki reads the reader’s mind and finds out that he’s attracted to him and that he has a kink for his long hair. So, before making any moves to get with the reader Loki uses magic on his hair to make it even more beautiful and much longer in order to tease the reader. This might range on the “weirder” sides of requests but honestly I’m a sucker for a pretty man with pretty hair haha. But if you don’t feel inspired by or comfortable writing this then obviously no hard feelings! I’ll enjoy anything you come out with in the future! 💚💚💚

Hey. Thank you so much for this request i am in love with it. I was more than happy to do this for you.

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Male!Reader

Warnings: Fluff central and a sprinkle of cheekiness from the man himself because let’s face it he is evil but in the best way.

Word Count: 1,970

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @0goddammitloki go check them out ❤️

Just Like Magic

If there is one thing people should know about you is that you’re not captivated or taken easily. Especially when it comes to crushes. But with Loki. There was an instant attraction, on both parts.

Not that either of you have ever done anything about it though. It’s a known fact to you both that feelings are there and Loki has pretty much made it his mission to tease you every time you’re around him. 

The one thing he doesn’t know though, is the effect his long black hair has on you. The way you fantasise about running your fingers through it, about pulling on it when things get heated. But that will never happen. He’s too complicated for commitment apparently.

You make your way over to a café, you made plans with him for lunch today. He was desperate to get away from his family and you were more than happy to be his distraction. Despite it not being in the way you imagine. It’s still something. 

As you take your seat, you pull your book out, a classic. Romeo and Juliet, if you’re going to wait for him, you might as well do some reading. Feed the brain and all that business. 

“Always got a book in your hands” you hear, moving the book down slightly and just showing your eyes. It’s him.

“Always late”

“Touché” 

He takes his seat, glancing over the menu whilst you return the book to your bag before doing the same. Once you’ve come to the conclusion of what you want, you order. Plus drinks too, of course.

“So, what is it you’re reading this time then?” he asks, showing as much enthusiasm and interest as he usually does. He always likes to keep up with you and what you’re doing.

“Romeo and Juliet” you smirk, knowing exactly what he’s about to say to you, you’ve heard it a thousand times before.

He runs his fingers through his silky smooth locks as he opens his mouth to respond “again? how many times is that now?” 

You just roll your eyes at him, refusing to answer. But the truth is, you’ve lost count. You can’t help it, you love what you love. Being a hopeless romantic is incurable, not that you would try to cure it if you had the chance.

“Let’s just eat, shall we?” you raise a brow at him and he does as you suggest, digging into his food instantly, as do you.

During lunch, you ask him about the latest with his family. He tells you all about Odin favouring Thor again. 

You can’t help but feel bad for him. He’s always tossed aside, like he doesn’t mean anything. You wish you could help that, rectify it but you can’t. All you can do is be there when he needs to talk. You still remain the only person in his life that he can open up to. That’s saying something, right?

He tucks a strand of hair behind his ear whilst flicking another strand out of his face. That hair is your literal weakness. 

It’s something you simply cannot explain. But it does things. Things that you could never repeat out loud. 

Especially not to him. 

But little do you know, Loki can hear everything inside that pretty little head of yours as he watches you eat. The way you’re sitting back into the chair, one leg over the other. So well put together, so graceful but your thoughts are far from it.

In fact, he’s known about your dirty fantasies for a while but he chooses not to say a word. Mostly due to the fact that he wouldn’t know how to bring it up but also because he would never want to embarrass you. He cares for you. 

Deeply in fact.

So he waits around for the perfect timing to say something in the best way he can. 

Whilst he waits, intruding on your thoughts. You think some more. 

About all the ways his hair turns you on, all the ways it could come in handy in the bedroom. 

His lips curl up into a satisfied smile, catching your attention.

“What’s that smile for?” you ask, kicking his leg gently.

“Oh, nothing really” 

Something tells you, that’s a lie “no, it’s clearly something? Tell me”

He just shakes his head, denying you the pleasure of the reason behind his smile. You just pout, hoping it’ll help but it doesn’t. Unlucky. You finish eating and both stand up ready to say goodbye and part ways. He pulls you into a hug, making you feel small compared to him. He’s so much taller.

“Same time tomorrow?” 

“How about we have lunch at my place?” you suggest, nervously gritting your teeth and awaiting his response.

“Sure” he agrees before turning on his heels and walking away. You feel weak in your knees as you rush back home. Time to continue reading. 

Loki gets home and as he stands in his mirror, brushing his hair. He’s reminded of your thoughts, the way you were practically drooling just looking at his hair. 

The way you were flustered. 

What if he could intensify that? Have you begging to touch it, feel it in your hands. 

Wait. He knows a way that he can make that a possibility. 

He racks his brain for a couple second before remembering a spell. 

Once he gets it mastered, he puts the spell into place, on his hair. Causing it to grow a couple more inches, it’s now just to his chest. Not much longer, but a noticeable change. One you’re sure to love. Just what he wants. 

He cannot wait for tomorrow now. This should do the trick intended.

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

You rush around, tidying after yourself and the mess you made yesterday after lunch. You don’t want Loki coming in to a mess. Not that he’d judge.

The second you finish, there’s a knock at the door, making you jump out of your skin. You pass the mirror on the way to the door and you check yourself out before opening up to reveal the man himself.

“Afternoon” he grins, stepping in and waiting for you to lead him to the kitchen where all the food waits. As he takes his seat, you glance at his hair, it’s longer. Sexier somehow. You don’t recall it being that long yesterday. 

How does he do that? How does he have you so captivated? Not even just because of his hair. But because of how he carries himself, how he speaks, how he walks. Everything about him draws you in.

“You okay?” he asks, a smug tone in his voice, on purpose. He can hear your thoughts once again. The spell is definitely paying off. Nows the time.

“So you like my hair then”

You almost choke on your water, looking up, your eyes meeting his “what?” you ask, wanting to know if what you heard was correct.

“My hair? You like it, don’t you?” 

You feel your cheeks heating up, the panic filling you. You can’t deny it.

“I do, why?” play it cool Y/N.

“Why do you like it?”

You widen your eyes, standing up to bring some more food to the table and filling your plate “it’s just really nice”.

He chuckles, clearly not accepting your answer.

“So you don’t wish you could touch it? Tug on it in let’s just say, intimate situations” 

Okay, now you’re mortified. 

What could possibly give him that impression? How does he know that? 

“Have you been reading my diary? How could you possibly know that” you blurt out, regretting it right away and covering your mouth with your hands.

He gets up from the table “your diary?” he asks, walking past you and into the next room where he spies a book on the coffee table. He wastes no time in picking it up, all whilst you’re trying to retrieve it. 

He starts reading it out loud.

“Dear diary,

What am i to do about this? 

What am i to do about Loki? That man has all this power over me and i’m struggling to be mute about my feelings, about the things i want to do to him”

You jump up, screaming at him to give it back but he just holds it higher. Not letting up.

“Loki, stop. Please” 

He brings it back down to your reach but before you can even take it, he pulls it behind his back “not so fast. When were you planning to tell me all of this? What sort of things were you talking about?”

“That’s private”

“It’s about me pretty boy, i think if it concerns me then i have a right to know”

You gulp, twiddling your thumbs as you avoid his gaze.

“I just meant that um, if there was ever a situation where um, we would kiss. That your hair, would be great to tug on. I’m sorry, i’m so embarra-”

Before you can finish the sentence, his lips are on yours. The last result you anticipated. But boy is it just how you imagined it to be. Actually no, that’s a lie. It’s a million times better. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, he drops the diary to the floor and his hands grip your face. Your lips fit together like two puzzle pieces. Like it was always meant to be. 

You break away, your hands find purchase on his chest, your pinky fingers touching his hair.

And that’s when your whole body shivers. His forehead rests to yours, his breath fans your face.

“That certainly took a different turn” you let out a deep breath.

He seconds that “a turn that is most welcome” 

He pecks your lips once more “why didn’t you tell me about all of this pretty boy?” 

The name turns you on.

“Nerves mostly, not wanting to ruin the friendship and besides you made it clear you weren’t ready for anything” you explain

“But for you, that would have changed”

“Am i dreaming right now? Pinch me please” 

He can’t help himself, his right hand glides down to the spot just above your ass. He takes his finger and thumb, doing as you asked and making you squeal. 

“I’m sorry, was you not serious?”

You shove him playfully and attempting to walk away, not so fast though.

He pulls you back, attacking your lips in a less than family friendly way. More of a make out session.

A lip biting, tongue battling kiss. All consuming and breath stealing. 

The kind of kiss that everyone dreams of having with their crush. The kind of kiss that just like in the movies and books, leaves you seeing fireworks or stars. 

The way his lips move with yours, so effortlessly and so soft against each other. 

His hand remains on your lower back while the other still cups your face. You lean into him as a whisper like moan fills his mouth, causing him to smile into the kiss. Your hands finally get to run through his hair. And boy does it feel good to tug at it too, pulling him deeper into the kiss, if that’s even possible.

This is everything you could have wanted.

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

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Feel free to tag anyone that would enjoy this fic.

[amelia]

related to that last ask but now i actually have a question! what are your favourite episodes for amy as a character? (sorry if i’m pestering you btw you don’t have to answer right away ❣️)

it is absolutely never a bother for me to talk about amy pond!! gosh though this is a Question. okay. i did interpret this as episodes that are my favorite for the lens of My Understanding Of Amy instead of favorite pond era episodes as a whole if that makes sense? under the cut bc i got long as i tend to do

i think my number 1 has to be the big bang, because it really is just like. okay, pond era absolutely runs into the problem of frequently making stories/episodes that should be centered around amy's emotional journey actually about somebody else — but the big bang is all hers. it is all on her! she's leading the show SHE'S the one in the pandorica SHE'S the one who remembers the doctor into existence it is HER choice to say goodbye to leadworth and continue to travel completely without remorse SHE IS THE HERO. it goes from "time can be rewritten, he'll find a way" to AMY being the one who finds the way. rory and river and the doctor all of course get their Moments but it's unquestionably amy's spotlight moment the whole way through

i have also ALWAYSSS been obsessed with starless universe amelia and the way that she still believes in stars in a world where they DON'T EXIST the power of her mind and the conviction of her beliefs is a CORE TENET of amy's character, the doctor has NOTHING to do with it!!! it's just who she is !!! best character of all time <3

other things about the amy's writing in this episode i love: the line "the universe pouring into her dreams every night," space florida outfit <3, ok i obviously do not love this but i think so much about amy talking about the doctor at her wedding and her mother is still like "NOT THIS SHIT AGAIN… i thought the psychiatrists FIXED her" like once again !!! a UNIVERSAL CONSTANT that amy is the one who believes in things nobody else does and is LOUD about it and is RIGHT !!! (let's kill hitler tried to retcon this but it simply won't work on me ❤️ just like anything else about the let's kill hitler flashbacks ❤️❤️❤️), OKAY DOCTOR DID I SURPRISE YOU THIS TIME? <3

number 2, i think, is the eleventh hour itself? like it's just… i've rewatched it so many times and it's still the most captivating character introduction i have ever seen. i know i'm biased but i love it so much. her introduction as a clearly neglected seven year old girl (constantly think about the deleted line that has her talking to aunt sharon and saying "you're not supposed to leave me, i'm seven!" WOOF) who's not afraid of anything except for the crack in her wall… she has drawings up all over her house of burning houses, she draws smiley faces into her apples bc her mom used to do that, she can cook for herself way better than i could at seven, and she desperately just wants to leave. but when the doctor tells her he'll be back in five minutes, amy is already so used to adults leaving her and breaking their promises that she doesn't believe him. but he makes her believe anyway. and he doesn't come back.

and all of the rest of her character hinges on that introduction — of course she has to believe him, he was REAL, nobody can take his realness away from her even if she is the only one who believes. but he also left her all alone for so long, just like everyone else who was supposed to be there for her did, so what good does that to her? so yeah of course she grows up angry and bitter and hiding those layers of hurt deeply under the surface, scorning all attachment and serious relationships because she knows she can't trust them. she outwardly distances herself from her childhood self by changing her name but she IS still just such a child inside.

she's not ready to settle, to grow up, to become what everyone in her tiny village wants her to be, thinks that she should be — so when she gets the chance to GO, of course she takes it. but she's also not just going to let the doctor off the hook for [gestures] her entire life, you know? the exchanges "people always say that" "i'm not people, do i even look like people?" | "people always have a reason" "do i look like people?" "Yes." always just GUT ME. she may trust him but it's NOT a blind trust, it can't be.

number 3 has to be the beast below it just makes me SCREAM how good that episode is at really developing amy through her compassion for other people — right from the start she sees that kid crying and she thinks the doctor must ignore stuff like this all the time, and she says that she could never do that. she's learning and intuiting leaps and bounds about the doctor with everything he says to her — which is another one of my favorite amy character traits, the way she is SO quick to pick up on things about other people and analyze them. everything that she picks up about the doctor allows her to KNOW what to do to save the star whale, allows her to be confident in the fact that the star whale wanted to help the whole time. the choice is IN HER HANDS she IS THE HERO <3 as she always should be. you couldn't just stand there and watch people cry! all that pain and misery and loneliness and it MADE IT KIND. i don't care how overused that quote is it still HITS !!!

um. number 4 is the girl who waited but my very specific headcanon-ridden interpretation and cutting out all that garbage "rory's the most beautiful man i've ever met" "defying destiny causality the nexus of time itself for a boy" bullshit. idk there's so many terrible things about this episode but it also gave me so much to think about when it comes to amy it's on my mind a LOT. one thing i think about is the way it parallels amy's first abandonment by the doctor — not just in the obvious sense but in the way that she's actively fighting for her life in a hostile atmosphere, but nobody else SEES it as a hostile atmosphere. the two streams facility is leadworth like it really is. and what adds a more chilling component is the way the handbots signature line is "do not be alarmed, this is a kindness" — like all the people who were trying to convince amy she was crazy throughout her entire childhood really thought they were doing her a kindness. they thought they were helping her. but they were killing her. because she wasn't made for that environment.

beyond that i am just obsessed with 36-years-later amy she is an icon she is a legend she is the moment i don't care! every mean thing she said about the doctor and rory was absolutely deserved and in fact she should have been so much meaner! she is SO SMART she makes her own SONIC PROBES OUT OF CAMERA PHONES the fact that she even was able to SURVIVE THAT LONG and in COMPLETE isolation and still retain her own mental faculties is just insane to me it speaks so much about her insane mental strength oh my god it makes me sooo emotional i am tearing up a little typing this right now.

i just am always THINKING about the line "there he is, the voice of god. number one lesson: survive, because no one's coming for you. you taught me that" it says SO MUCH about her. oh my god older amy didn't want to die she'll be kicking and screaming and fighting til the end… i fucking hate this show and picking and choosing when paradoxes should apply OLDER AMY DESERVED TO LIVE

number 5 is probably the power of three but my own very headcanon infused interpretation of it. because it's like. the ultimate miscommunication/misunderstanding that exists between amy and the doctor coming to a head. where amy in 7.02 is like "i can't not wait for you, even now. (…) we think you're weaning us off you" (that line always makes me slow exhale … the phrasing of the doctor as a drug) and the doctor keeps insisting that's not true, "you'll be there until the end of me" "or vice versa" (and they have that loaded held stare and you know they're both thinking about what he said to her before he left in the god complex…)

but it's not until this episode where amy starts to actually believe he means it. at the same time she's spent so much TIME preparing for the inevitable moment where the doctor says goodbye and doesn't say hello ever again that she's not willing to fully hope that the doctor really means it when he says that he would never leave her permanently on purpose. and i love that this episode gives amy a lot of space to verbally communicate her emotions because the later pond episodes SORELY LACK THAT. and amy tells him, don't be nice to me, don't stop coming around just because you think that's the kind thing to do. even though she says herself that she doesn't know if she can have "both" — she knows that she can tell the doctor to stay, in her own way, and that he'll listen.

ideally they would have just gone off traveling together forever after that and the angels take manhattan did not happen but unlike what the doctor says about amy, i don't ever get what i want 🙃

also, this episode gave amy friends that weren't rory or the doctor or river so i love it for that on principal <3 i know amy had fun being the bridesmaid at laura's lesbian wedding. and kate!!

( i do hate that this episode ends with that conversation between brian and the doctor. i hate brian as a character and i will forever. won't get into this right now but OUGH )

honestly this list is kind of wobbly and might change if you asked me in a month so i'll just rattle off other favorite episodes / moments real quickly: the good night minisode (it counts!), RIVER SONG DIDN'T GET IT ALL FROM YOU SWEETIE (timeline frozen amy my beloved!), "i remember it so it happened so i did it," vincent and the doctor specifically when vincent tells amy that he hears the song of her sadness…. ow, i could write a whole other essay about amy's choice and how it is so much more complex than people give it credit for but this post is already so goddamn long

[another-cancer]

A New M'lady

AO3

Part 1

I co-wrote this with my amazing friend Ana who unfortunately doesn't have AO3 or tumblr.

Dear diary,

Hi! It’s me, Marinette, again. It’s currently 6 am and I'm getting ready for class. But, I forgot to write last night. Something happened, something magical. Yesterday was a good day in general. Well besides Zoé getting akumatized, but that was quickly resolved. All evening I got to watch Zoé smile. I don’t know how else to express it besides, I just really like her! And I danced with her last night! It was enchanting! I think I'm obsessed, but not Adrien obsessed. I just really like her! She even walked me home.

I just can't get over the way she held my hand, her tight grip- I couldn’t stop blushing! I'm half excited and half nervous to see her today. Should I ask her if she wants to go out sometime? I'm stumped. Anyways if I keep writing I'm going to end up late. Again.

Goodbye for now,

Marinette

Marinette placed the diary in the trap box and continued getting ready for the day. For once in her life she was running early. She even had time to enjoy a nice breakfast with her parents before heading to school.

When she arrived the courtyard was full of life in stark contrast to the usually empty one she was greeted with when running late. Her friends were all chatting away on different ends of the room. But then she spotted Zoé and her whole world was spinning. She tried not to run and draw attention to herself as she crossed the courtyard. In all honesty, even if she ran it wouldn’t matter. She was falling hard for the American girl and nothing would change that now.

Zoé saw Marinette walking over and greeted her, “Hey Marinette. I hope your evening was lovely.”

Both girls were staring at the floor with blushes spreading across their faces.

“Yeah, I had a really good time on the boat, but I already told you that. And oh, thanks for walking me home. I hope the rest of the way to the hotel was good.”

Zoé giggled and Marinette decided she liked her laugh. It made her happy.

“I had a really good time last night too. Thanks for inviting me. The walk back to the hotel was fine,” Zoé brought her head up to look Marinette in the eyes, “I really liked spending time with you.”

It was Marinette’s chance to invite her over.

But when she opened her mouth all that came out was, “I think the bell is about to ring, maybe we should walk to the classroom.”

Zoé had no objections and grabbed Marinette's hand, “Lead the way.“

Marinette couldn’t react fast enough. Zoé was basically dragging Marinette across the courtyard. She managed to retrieve her balance and gripped Zoé’s hand. It was warm. And not as sweaty as hers. Mari could tell that Zoé was confident and she admired that about her.

As for Zoé, she was trying hard not to blurt out ‘you’re so cute!’ She didn't know how or even why, but Marinette’s personality, giggles, and even freckles made her day. But as they reached the top of the stairs, their eyes met with Lila.

“Zoé!” exclaimed Lila, purposely ignoring Marinette.

Lila went in for a hug but Zoé just shook her hand, using her unoccupied hand. This action made Marinette grin. Finally, someone who saw through Lila’s lies.

Ring Ring

Good timing, finally something went Marinette’s way. “Sorry, Lila we gotta get to class” Marinette happily announced.

Lila grunted and stormed off.

“You really hate her don’t you?” There it was, the wonderful sound Marinette treasured, Zoé’s giggle.

“Mhm” nodded Marinette, who smiled wide.

Both girls began to walk forward, both knowing they would soon have to drop the other’s hand, due to their seating chart. Once they got to the entrance, Marinette stopped.

“What's up?” asked Zoé, freeing Marinette’s hand.

“Would you um-“ Marinette began to stutter. Cheeks flustered as her gaze fell on Zoé’s clear eyes. “Never mind.” Marinette flinched.

She had chickened out. As different as this feeling was from everything she felt for Luka and Adrien there were some habits that would die hard.

“Oh okay.”

The rest of the school day went as usual, well if you counted Marinette and Zoé constantly staring at each other from across the room as usual. Then it was the same as every other day, long and boring. Giving Marinette all the opportunity to zone out and daydream and overthink.

That was exactly what she was doing when the final bell of the day rang. And by the time she even realized school was over there was only one other person left in the room, Adrien Agreste.

“Marinette,” Adrien called out, snapping her back to reality, “You okay there? Looks like you were doing some heavy thinking.”

“Oh yeah, I just got caught up in my thoughts as usual,” she said with no stutter.

She was talking to Adrien Agreste without stuttering. This was a milestone for her. And when she spit out the whole phrase Adrien’s eyes lit up with joy.

“Anything I can help with?”

“Uh. Actually maybe? I’m not sure. Um. Howdoyouaskagirlout,” The words came out all together in a jumble.

Adrien was pretty sure he heard the question correctly, but for clarification asked, “Sorry can you repeat that?”

“How do you ask a girl out? See there’s this girl. And that girl is actually Zoé and I really like her. But I’m not sure how to really tell her.”

“Well if I were you I’d say, I like you a lot. You light up every room you’re in, and make everyday better. You’re paw-sitively amazing.”

Marinette giggled.

“Thanks Adrien.”

She hugged him with no hesitation. But at that moment everything was strictly platonic. At least to them, to the outside eye it could have looked like anything. And that anything was what Zoé saw while standing in the doorway.

She had come back to look for Marinette and heard Adrien confess he liked her. And they hugged. There was so much joy. Zoé was standing watching dumbstruck. When the embrace finally broke Marinette turned to the door seeing Zoé. And Zoé turned to run.

Marinette froze. She understood why Zoé ran and what she probably saw. She turned to Adrien wanting an answer on what to do. He mouthed, ‘Go.’

And she chased after her.

“Zoé wait,” Marinette called after her, “Please, let me explain. It wasn’t what you thought you saw.”

Zoé slowed before coming to a stop, “Then please explain, because I like you so much Marinette and I thought you liked me back after last night. You keep sending me mixed signals. But if Adrien likes you and you like him you should be with him.”

“But I don’t like Adrien, not like that. Not anymore. I’m falling for you. From the second I met you. You’re amazing Zoé. Your laughter makes me smile. You’re confident, smart, you’re even a great dancer. Every second I spend with you I am learning more about how amazing you are. I really like you Zoé. Not Adrien, not anyone else, just you.”

Zoé ran towards Marinette and hugged her. Tight and close.

“I like you too if that wasn’t already clear.”

The two laughed in each other's embrace.

Marinette and Zoé found themselves in each other's arms. Faces only inches away. The two stayed there for a moment before jumping apart. Marinette was about to explode.

“I think I love you, Marinette,” confessed Zoé.

Both girls tumbled but Marinette caught Zoé. Ugh- that smile..it had only been 3 days and they had both fallen hard.

“Mari?” Zoé asked, her voice sounded as beautiful as ever. “Do you love me back?”

Of course, Marinette did! Since the second she tumbled into Zoé, she knew she wanted her.

“I think I love you too, M’lady.”

That cat had given her the perfect nickname, for the amazing girl standing before her.

[angst-fairygodmother]

Dreams (Oliver Sway x Reader)

A/N: I wasn’t going to write Ollie. In fact I was so sure, that I deleted this request after deciding that neither of the Nikolai prompts moved me. But luckily I had a screenshot, because I couldn’t stop thinking about the Ollie one. It was too perfect not to write.  Word Count: 2036 Rating: G - I’m pretty sure this one is warningless, other than references to nightmares and references to The Song of Sway Lake.

Like many from the area, you had grown up hearing stories of the mighty Sways and their dominion over the lake. But you had never met one, almost believing them some story told just to increase the romantic draw of the area. Until the day Oliver and his friend stopped into your bookshop.

It was raining pretty heavily outside, the kind of days where locals stay home and tourists leave, driving out of town and off to museums and malls. The shop was empty, almost sleepy, and you were in the back fixing a cup of coffee to keep yourself from napping on the front desk when you heard the door chime. With a sigh, you put on your best customer service face and walked out.

“Hi, welcome to the Papermill,” you called before you had even fully circled the stacks. “I’m Y/N, I’ll be right with you.”

The two boys dripping on your welcome mat looked about your own age. One, tall with curly hair and blue button-up plastered to his skin, grinned at you, shamelessly looking you over. The other, long hair practically a matted mess, looked more sheepish, tugging at the ends of his shirtsleeves.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “We were just...out running errands for my grandmother and it started pouring. You were the closest place to duck into.”

“Oleg, you cannot tell a beautiful girl that,” his friend said, his accent shocking you. You were used to tourists, sure, but never one from...so far away. “You must pretend that it was she alone that called you in.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, raising a challenging eyebrow. “Do you also pretend she’s deaf?”

The Russian shrugged, still grinning.

Your eyes fell back to meet the other boy (Oleg, or Ollie, apparently), actually feeling drawn the way his friend said he should pretend to be, and your smile softened.

“I don’t mind being a refuge,” you said.

He looked startled, blue eyes widening. 

“From the rain, I mean,” you rushed to clarify. “Actually, I think I’ve got a couple towels in the back, for emergencies. Let me grab them.”

You scurried back off, feeling flustered, before they could answer.

“You Americans, always so courteous,” the Russian said as you practically tossed an old, striped beach towel at him.

“Actually, I just don’t want you ruining my livelihood.”

You turned, holding out the other to Ollie, fingers brushing together as you passed it over, and he gave you a small smile. 

“Once you don’t look like drowned rats, you’re free to look around,” you shrugged. “Or...there’s some chairs and stuff in the biography section if you want to just sit somewhere to wait things out.”

“Will you sit with us?” Ollie blurted out, surprising all three of you. 

“Oh. Um…” you bit your lip. You wanted to, but you really should be working. Then again, there wasn’t likely to be any other customers. “Sure, I can do that, for a bit at least. Do y’all uh...coffee?” you gestured a thumb over your shoulder, as if that explained anything.

His friend glanced between you with a raised eyebrow and a devilish smirk before shaking his head and wandering off toward the back, where you didn’t feel like pointing out he’d mostly find children’s books. 

Over the next hour, as the storm increased in intensity and rattled the windows, you found yourself falling into easy conversation with Ollie while Nikolai prowled the stacks. You suspected the odd Russian was up to something, but were surprised to find that you didn’t care as much as you probably should. 

“You know,” you said eventually, shifting the way you were sitting with your knees tucked up under you, leaning closer to Ollie in the next chair, “I feel like I know you…”

“Well, it’s been a long time but my grandmother owns a place on the lake, and I sort of grew up here, it’s just been a while since I’ve been back,” he said reluctantly, as if he were somehow ashamed of his background. 

“Oh!” you were surprised, expecting at most that he was a seasonal visitor. There hadn’t been that many other kids around growing up, so you started racking your brain for who he might be. 

“Yes,” Nikolai piped in from somewhere in what you hazarded a guess was the science-fiction section. “Don’t you know? He is a Sway.” The pronouncement was made with the same level of gravitas and pomp as one might announce that someone was the king of Spain. 

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Like, your name is attached to the lake, Sway?”

Ollie was tugging uncomfortably at his sleeves again, like he was trying to disappear within his sweater. “It's no big deal.”

You studied him for a moment. He seemed somehow both proud and ashamed of his heritage, and uncomfortable talking about it. You already liked this boy a lot, more already than you cared to admit. So despite your questions, you shrugged.

“Cool,” you said casually, changing the subject back to music, where he seemed like he shined and you were content to sit back and just listen.

~

Before you knew it, you had whiled away the entire afternoon and the weather was finally letting up. You were reluctant to say goodbye to Oliver and found yourself impulsively giving him a hug before he left. 

Since then, he had seemed to find any excuse he could to come back. Sometimes Nikolai would come too, but as much as you enjoyed the company of the wild Russian, you preferred the quiet days when it was just you and Ollie. He was sweet, and pretty hilarious once he came out of his shell (or maybe stopped being overshadowed by larger personalities?)

Until one day he came into the shop, looking sullen and lost.

“Ollie?” you asked, circling the counter, frowning. “Are you alright?”

He shook his head, and your frown only deepened. Bending back over the counter, standing on your toes to do so, you dug around for something. Finding it, you slapped the “Be back soon” sign on the desk and led him over to your usual chairs. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked, leaning over to take his hands. 

He stared, unblinking, at you and the silence was starting to unnerve you. 

“Oliver?” you lifted one of your hands to wave in front of him. “Hello? You’re starting to scare me…”

That seemed to finally shake him out of the odd funk he was in and he blinked owlishly. 

“Sorry, I just...I had a weird dream last night,” he said slowly. 

You nodded, tilting your head curiously. In all your long conversations, his nightmares had come up a few times, and while they seemed more strange than sinister to you, you understood how much the loss of his father haunted him, sometimes it seemed quite literally. He confessed that he’d hoped that finding the record would quiet his father’s spirit, and that the longer he struggled to do so, the worse the dreams had been getting, to the point where there were nights he woke up more tired than he’d gone to bed. So you understood, to a degree, why he might look haggard, but this seemed different. You waited patiently for him to go on.

“It wasn’t about my dad this time,” he explained.

His eyes drifted down to your still joined hands, and your face heated guiltily.

“Sorry, I wasn’t...I just...I thought...I’ll…” you stammered, finding yourself at a total loss for how to explain why your instinct had been to comfort him with physical touch. 

You moved to pull your hands back, thinking he was upset by the contact, but he curled his own around you to stop you. You made a small noise of confusion, but relaxed back into it. 

“So, if it wasn’t about your dad, what was your dream about that has you so...off-kilter?”

“I was leaving the lake, alone, and then I kept seeing a face everywhere.”

“Like a creepy serial killer's face?”

He shook his head, hair swinging across his face as he moved, and you itched to reach out and comb it back. 

“No, it was like I was trying to catch up to someone, or find them.”

“And did you? Or at least figure out who it was?”

He shifted nervously. “It was...you.”

“What?” your heart was racing, and you frowned, almost not believing what Ollie was saying. 

“I dreamt about you last night, Y/N.” He seemed stunned, almost awed, as he said the words out loud, blue eyes wide and watching you for a reaction. 

You felt rooted in your chair, mouth falling open in shock. Your eyes flickered over his face, so open and earnest that it almost hurt. 

“Ollie…” you breathed, more because you felt like you needed to say something than because you had any clue what to say. 

It would have been one hell of a pickup line, if it had been said by a stranger at a bar, or with the kind of cocky charm that Nikolai oozed, or in almost any context but this one. Now it felt intense and a little bit frightening, because you knew Ollie and you knew how much stock he placed in dreams and all the possible meanings of him telling you this were...a lot. But you didn’t necessarily want to pull away, and you certainly didn’t want to run. You just wanted your mind to process it all.

“I can’t remember the last time I had a good dream, and this one wasn’t great, because I was still alone and feeling like I was always a few seconds too late, but it wasn’t a nightmare, and I didn’t wake up in a cold sweat,” he carried on, trying to explain more, or rationalize, or something. 

The sound of a bell disturbed your thoughts, as one of the old tourist bitties that had been slowly perusing tapped it repeatedly, demanding you return to work immediately to serve her. 

“If you want, we’ve got some stuff about dream interpretation in the Spiritual section,” you suggested as you got up to return to work.

About halfway across the shop, you turned back to flash him a wink. “But I’ve got a pretty good guess what this one meant, without needing a guide.”

Intense and a little weird or not, you liked Ollie a lot. If he was really dreaming about you, or pretending he was, you’d play along, and maybe something would move forward, or at least a door would open so you could make a move. 

He shot up from his chair and trailed you back to the counter. As soon as the lady was out of the way, a bag of rather scandalous romance novels in her arms, he leaned his elbows on the tall wooden surface, pretty far into your space. Normally such an action would have annoyed you, but strangely, because it was him, you didn’t mind so much.

“What does it mean then, Y/N?” he asked, a curious expression on his face, his eyes betraying a hint of teasing that you were pleasantly surprised to see.

You rolled your eyes, leaning your chin in your hand and tilting your head to look at him.

“Are you ever going to ask me out, Ollie?”

He rocked backwards, stunned by your bluntness after so long dancing around each other. 

“Or are you going to keep waiting, find your treasure, and leave, regretting that you never shot your shot?”

“How about dinner then?” he asked hurriedly. “Tonight?”

You leaned closer, as if you were going to kiss him, and smiled at his sharp intake of breath. “Sounds perfect. But make sure Nikolai knows he’s not invited.”

“What? Why would you even--” he trailed off as you nodded your head to where the Russian was smirking at you both through the display window, flashing Ollie an approving gesture when he caught your gaze.

Ollie groaned, rolling his entire head dramatically, and you pressed your hand over your mouth to hold back a laugh. 

“I’ll see you at seven, Sway,” you teased. “But for now, shoo, I’ve got more customers.”

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Taglist: @misskittysmagicportal​ (I doubt I’m going to write this character again, but let me know if you want to be tagged if I do)

[ambitionzzzz]

Of Convenience

Chapter 2- Mary MacDonald

Warnings: Cursing

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Sitting on top of your comforter, you finished up your Charms homework before having to go to breakfast to meet with Remus. 

“Y’know,” Your roommate, Marlene McKinnon, began as she buttoned her dress shirt. “I thought he was going to ask out Mary MacDonald.”

You signed your homework, “Who?”

“Your boyfriend,” You perked up. “I thought he was going to ask out Mary, guess not,” She pulled up her skirt.

You looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”

“Sirius told me. He said the other day that Remus couldn’t stop talking about this one girl but he wouldn’t say her name, Sirius assumed it was MacDonald because one night while they were drunk, Remus had confessed to liking the girl. But I guess he was wrong.”

“When was this?” Your heart rate sped up a bit.

“Maybe a week ago?” She slipped in her robes, and placed her flats on. She pulled her hair out, letting it fall past her shoulders in beach waves. “I’m just looking out for you.”

You hesitated before speaking. “You and Sirius close?”

“You could say that,” She smirked. “It’s only a matter of time before he calls me his girlfriend. But going back to you, just be careful, yeah?”

“Yeah, thanks Marly.”

She said nothing else and left you alone with your thoughts. Could Remus be using you to get Mary jealous? He is the one who brought up fake dating in the first place… And he was rather quick to jump to your defense. You shook your head, your anxiety getting the best of you. You decided to confront- well not confront, but certainly talk to Remus about the information your roommate oh so kindly decided to drop on you. d cd You packed up your work and quickly got dressed for the day. 

You scanned the cafeteria, looking for your lover. Apparently he saw you looking for him because he began waving you over. You sat down and grabbed a plate, serving yourself breakfast, your conversation with Marlene still fresh in your mind. 

“Moony,” Sirius grabbed his attention. “You’re sat here, when you should’ve gone to pick up Y/n-”

“It’s okay-”

“It completely slipped my mind, Y/n, I’m sorry-” Remus looked at you apologetically. 

“Rem, it’s fine, really,” You grabbed his hand. “I was finishing up some homework anyway.”

Everyone went back to their conversations, but Remus’s eyes remained on you. He tugged your hand a little bit, “Hey, you okay?”

You got closer to him, lowering your voice into a whisper. “We need to talk.”

“Oh gross,” James pretended to gag. “They’re being domestic.”

“Oh, piss off,” Remus defended. He turned back to you and gave you a look, a look that made you think he knew exactly what you wanted to talk about. “C’mon.” 

“Where?” He got up and offered his hand. 

“Somewhere we can talk.”

“Yeah, talk,” Sirius teased. Remus flipped them off and the boys started hollering, drawing the attention of the surrounding students.

Remus led you by the hand into the poetry, last names A-L, section of the library. He let go and turned to you, leaning against the wall. “What’s up?”

You looked behind you and then back at him, “Do you like Mary MacDonald?”

“I-I mean sure, she’s a sweet enough girl-”

“Remus, do you fancy her?”

He stared at your feet, avoiding eye contact. “...I like your shoes…”

“God, Remus!”  

“Shhh!”

You lowered your voice, but kept it stern. “Why didn’t you tell me??”

“I don’t know, I just thought because you needed help you might agree to help me-”

“Is that why you defended me?? So I’d agree to help get another girl jealous???”

“Yes. Wait- No-”

“Oh great, thanks a lot, Remus,” You turned away, walking out of the section. “The nerve-” He pulled you back in between the bookshelves. 

“Please don’t go, let me explain,” He looked you in the eyes, and as much as you wanted to leave, you couldn’t. Not when he was looking at you like that. 

“You have 30 seconds.”

He sighed in relief. “Yes, I fancy Mary. But no, I did not help you with the intention of expecting something in return. I helped you out because you were already having a bad enough day with Slughorn-”

You scoffed, “‘Cause pity makes me feel so much better.”

“Wait- no- listen. You were having a bad day and yeah, I felt bad, but I’ve seen you before.”

“...What the hell does that mean?”

“It means, I’ve watched you. Not in a creepy way, but in an admiration way? You help people without expecting anything in return. Whether it be people who don’t deserve it or even it’s just explaining the lesson in a different way so that someone could understand it better. You’re a good person. A good person having a bad day and I just so happened to be there… And I’m sorry if I made you think I was taking advantage of you, those weren’t my intentions. I just hope you’ll forgive me.”

You swallowed, “And if I were to forgive you?”

“I’d be eternally grateful.”

“But you’d still ask me for help…” 

“No.”

There was something in his eyes that made you feel he was telling the truth. You sighed deeply, finalizing your decision. “I’ll help you,” He smiled. “But on a few conditions.”

“Of course, fire away.”

“One, don’t lie to me; there’s no point, and it’s stupid. Two, communicate with me. We aren’t actually dating but we have to act like it. Three, you take me to Hogsmeade this weekend.”

“Don’t you have detention this weekend?”

“Damn it, you’re right. I guess you’ll just have to take me the weekend after,” Remus visibly stiffened. 

“U-Um no, it’s okay, we’ll go this weekend, I’m kinda busy the weekend after. I think I can figure something to get you out. C’mon, let’s get you to class.”

“Yessir.”

“By the way, how’d you find out about Mary?” He asked as he took your hand in his, walking out of the library.

“My roommate, Marlene McKinnon.”

Eventually the weekend rolled around and you stood in front of the blackboard in Slughorn’s class, writing out ‘I will not be late to class’ 100 times. You were on number 59 when a knock rapped at the door. 

“Come in!” Slughorn yelled, not looking up from grading papers.

“Professor Slughorn,” McGonagall came in, in an all black robe covering her shoulders down to her feet. She surprisingly wasn’t wearing her hat.

“Oh, Professor McGonagall,” Slughorn stood up out of respect. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I was wondering if I could borrow Miss Y/l/n,” Your heart rate sped up, what could McGonagall possibly want with you?

“Whatever for, if I may ask?”

“...No… Let us go, Y/n.”

You turned to Slughorn, “Goodbye, professor,” He said nothing. You stepped out of the classroom, walking a step ahead of her. “Professor, if I may, what is-” You were pulled by your arm into a secluded section of the hallway. She stood in front of you, staring into your eyes. “Professor…?... Are you okay?” She said nothing, but the strangest thing happened- She grew- at least 4 inches. Her face morphing into one that you recognized. “Sirius?!” His hand slapped over your mouth.

“Shh!” The hand over your mouth slowly released you.

“You used a polyjuice potion?” You whisper-yelled. “Doesn’t that take like a month to brew??”

“We made a big batch a while ago, not the point- The point is we’ve come to get you out.”

“We?” You heard a throat being cleared, and you both looked to see Remus, James, and Peter standing at the end of the hallway. You suddenly realized the close proximity to Black and took a step back. “Oh uh, wow, this is not what it looks like.”

“We know,” James smirked. Remus grabbed your arm, stringing you along behind him. 

“Rem, my arm,” He stopped walking and turned to you.

“M’ sorry.”

“It’s alright. Hey, thank you, for getting me out.”

“Tuh,” Sirius passed you guys. “Because I wasn’t there, right?”

“Thank you, Sirius!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

You turned back to Remus, grabbing his hand and squeezing it lightly. “C’mon,” You pulled him, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Ugh, get a room!”

A blanket of snow covered the floor and the roofs of the different shops. You and Remus walked side by side, holding hands, a few meters away from the rest of his friend group.

“Y’know, that was really sweet.”

“What was?”

“The whole ‘getting me out of detention’ thing. It was sweet,” You weren’t sure if it was the cold or the compliment, but his cheeks and the tips of his ears turned pink.

“I-”

“Oi! Lovebirds!” James called. The two of you looked ahead to see his glasses fogged and him waving you over. The boy stepped inside, leaving you and Remus out in the cold. You shivered, not having a jacket because you thought you were going to be writing on a chalkboard inside the castle all weekend.

“Oh, hey...” Remus seemed to have noticed your freezing state because he shrugged off his jacket and handed it to you

“No, I can’t-”

“I insist,” He smiled. “We’re about to go inside anyway,” You smiled back and took the jacket, inserting your arms in the sleeves. It was warm, and it smelled like old books, tea, and oddly enough… chocolate. “You okay?” He held your hand once again.

You smiled at the contact, “Yeah, I’m good.”

The Three Broomsticks was lively to say the least. You could barely hear yourself think. You were about to ask Remus where you should sit when hands waving in the distance caught your eye. You pointed them out at Remus and he led you through the crowded pub. The corner that the boys chose was a lot quieter but was still relatively loud. As you sat down next to Remus, you noticed that on the far end of the table was Marlene. She took a sip of her drink, maintaining eye contact. You cleared your throat and took a seat. You sat across from James, Remus across from Peter, and Lily across from Sirius. There was one seat empty, at your end of the table. As you wondered who could possibly be occupying the seat, a girl walked over with a tray of butterbeers. She handed one to everyone, including Remus, except you. 

“Oh, darn, I’m sorry,” She apologized. “I didn’t realize someone else was coming.”

“...But you got one for Remus,” You looked around and saw everyone had a drink in front of them. You expected someone to help you out, but no one did. 

“Do you want mine?” She offered.

“No, it’s okay,” You quickly smiled.

She smiled back and sat down, taking a sip of her butterbeer. “Oh, silly me,” She extended her hand, “I didn’t introduce myself- I’m Mary MacDonald.” 

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[sara-scribbles]

Emotional

Fandom: Genshin Impact Childe/Lumine Word Count: 1,801 Note: I’ve been playing a lot of this game and I think I’m addicted. I love the characters so I’ll probably write for some. Warning: Not canon (but who cares). Some slight spoiler I guess from the 1.1 update trailer.

---------

The chair was uncomfortable no matter which way she sat. Eventually Lumine gave up trying to find a good position to sit. Standing up, she began to pace the small room. The sole occupant in the bed laid motionless even as her footsteps clicked on the wooden floor.

“Lumine, don’t worry,” Paimon said, trying to reassure her. “The healer said he should be fine with some rest. Chill-day is too tough to die.”

She paused her pacing to study the unconscious man. “He looks...peaceful.” Even though he always had a smile, there was something strained and tense in his face. His eyes didn’t quite light up with emotions whenever she talked with him.

“Paimon thinks it’s because you gave him a good butt kick.” She hovered over his head. “Hopefully he’ll have a nasty headache.”

“Paimon…”

“It’s what he deserves for causing us so much trouble!” she protested, her tiny fists balled up. “Kicking us around like that...hmpf!”

Sighing, Lumine sank back down in the chair. “He had his reasons… Even if we don’t agree with them, Childe had his reasons for what he did.”

“Even though he lied to us?” She floated over to the blond to sit on her shoulder. “You have a big heart, Lumine. Paimon can’t forgive him that easily. He’ll need to spend a mil-no a trillion mora on food for us before he can be forgiven.”

“You just want free meals for life.”

“Hmm...maybe.” Lumine laughed quietly as Paimon fell into deep thought.

---------

His entire body hurt. He could barely feel his fingers as they flexed. Even opening his eyes hurt. Looking at an unfamiliar ceiling, one thought ran through his head.

“Why am I alive?”

After the battle with Lumine, that he had lost, he remembered seeing her sword raised for the last blow. In that moment he couldn’t wait to embrace death. Not because he was sorry for his actions. Not because he nearly destroyed Liyue.

It was because of the look Lumine had given him in that moment. Eyes filled with tears and teeth clenched tightly, she looked utterly devastated. He knew his actions would ruin whatever bond they had formed, but he hadn’t prepared for how it would hurt him so much to see her hurting.

He hadn’t guarded his heart as well as he had thought. Somehow, someway she had slipped through his armor. She had slipped past his defenses and settled in his heart.

Forcing his thoughts back to the present, Childe slowly and painfully sat up. From the looks for the room, he had been brought to a healer. Perhaps one of the Fatui agents had found him.

However once he turned to his left, he knew it wasn’t one of the Fatui. Sitting in an uncomfortable chair was Lumine. Her elbow was propped up on the arm rest, and her chin rested on her palm. Eyes closed and mouth slightly open, she was fast asleep. Her disheveled appearance told him she had been there for a long time.

Again he was reminded of the look on her face just at the end of the battle. Yet, she hadn’t finished him like he had thought. Instead she had brought him to a healer.

“...Lumine.” He quietly stood up even as his body protested. Leaning down to eye level, he studied her sleeping face. Dark circles lined her eyes. A bit of drool was forming in the corner of her mouth.

Childe wanted to reach out and touch her, but held himself back. He didn’t have the right.

Moving away, he left the room. Thankfully it seemed no one was around as he snuck to the nearest open window.

Just as he was about to climb out, a familiar voice called him. “You’re just gonna sneak out like that, Chill-day,” Paimon demanded.

Floating right behind him, she had her arms crossed as she gave him her sternest look. Chuckling, Childe slipped into an easy smile. “You caught me. Thought I’d leave before causing a scene.”

She huffed. “Well that’s just rude! After Lumine dragged your body all the way here and begged for someone to heal you, you’re just going to leave. Na-uh! You owe us!”

Scratching the back of his head, he searched on his person. “I don’t have any mora on me. But if I go to the bank I c-“

“Paimon doesn’t want your mora!” She stomped her foot in mid-air. “Paimon thought long and hard about what you can do to make it up to us.”

“Oh?” He tilted his head to the side. He was curious to know what the small creature would demand.

“First, apologize to Zhongli, Liyue and me. Second, apologize to Lumine for hurting her. Third, eternal servitude.” She ticked off each request on her fingers.

“Eternal servitude? Isn’t that a bit much?”

“Um...fine! Ten years of servitude should be good.” She nodded to herself before glaring at him. “If you can’t do that at least don’t run away until you’ve faced Lumine.”

He sighed deeply as the smile dropped from his face. “I don’t think she wants to see me after everything I did. It’s best if I just leave quietly.”

Paimon was not amused. “Lumine cares a lot about you. She was willing to help you even when you tried to kill us. If you care for her like Paimon thinks you do, then you’ll talk to her.”

For once the small creature sounded mature. Childe shook his head and put one foot out the window. “Let me think about it…”

---------

Lumine woke with a snort. Blinking the sleep from her eyes and wiping the drool from her cheek, she looked around the room. She could hear the birds chirping. The empty bed made her stomach drop.

“He’s gone…” She had hoped that if he did wake, he would stay. At least long enough for her to say goodbye.

Leaving the room, she yawned and stretched. The chair had done a number on her back. “Paimon? What are you doing there?”

She was sitting on the ledge of an open window. “Paimon wanted to get some fresh air and thinks you should too.”

“Mhm…guess you’re right. Maybe I’ll walk around town.” Lumine was trying her best to sound normal. Still the fact Childe had left without a word hurt more than when he hit her with an electro attack.

“Paimon thinks you should go to the beach. The nice salt air is good for you.” She pointed to the beach out the window.

Brows drawing together, Lumine glanced out the window. “The beach? I guess I could go there…”

“Great! Paimon’ll be at Wangshu Inn! Their almond tofu is the best!” Floating up, she gave Lumine a wave before quickly flying out the window.

Taking Paimon’s advice, she went to the beach. The scent of the salt waves did calm her down. Just a day ago, the waters had been dark and foreboding. Everything was now calm as if nothing had happened.

Walking along the shore, she picked up a starconch. Inspecting the blue shell, she was about to toss it back in the water when she spotted a mess of orange hair just a bit further down.

Not believing her eyes, she slowly made her way toward the figure. She started picking up her pace as she got closer. She was all but running by the time she was a few feet away from him.

“Childe!” She collided with him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Pressing her face against his back, she felt a sense of relief that he hadn’t left just yet.

“You found me…” He sounded tired.

Pulling away, she took a few steps back so she could look at him. He smiled weakly as he met her golden gaze. “I thought you left.”

“I couldn’t leave just yet.” His eyes flickered away from hers.

She looked down at her feet. She was still clutching the starconch tightly in her hand. “Are you feeling better?”

“Why?” he whispered.

Her head snapped up as she stared at him. “Why what?”

“Why do you care? Why did you save me?” Desperation colored his eyes. He reached for her but stopped and let his arms fall to his side. “After everything that happened, you still saved me. Why?”

Licking her suddenly dry lips, Lumine inspected the starconch closely. “I…didn’t want to leave you. A part of me knew you were using me, but that didn’t stop me from caring about you.”

She held up the starconch. “When we first met, you were all smiles, laughter and jokes. But I quickly learned it was all a mask. Behind that mask, I saw someone who was alone. Someone who craved a connection but was afraid to let himself be vulnerable.”

A dry chuckle left his lips. “You really saw all that? I guess I wasn’t as good at hiding as I thought.”

The corner of her lips twitched. “I’m just good at observing people for a long time. It took me a while to figure you out. And even now I’m not completely sure.”

“You’re mostly correct, which is a feat in itself. You’re a smart girl,” he praised.

Her stomach did an odd flip at his compliment. “W-well what are you planning to do now?” She quickly changed the subject.

Childe tilted his head back to stare at the endless blue sky. “I’m not sure. I doubt I’ll be welcomed back to the Fatui after my failure. Punishment seems more like it…”

Inhaling deeply, she held the starconch out to him. “You could come with us. Paimon and I plan to visit the other countries.”

“Are you sure you want me to come with you? I’m kind of a bad guy.” Yet, he took the starconch from her, inspected it, and placed it in his pocket all the while holding eye contact.

Lumine peered up at him. “It’s okay. I trust you.”

He blinked owlishly at her. “...really?”

“Yes.” Her eyes sparked with determination. “I believe you’re not as bad of a person as you want me to think you are. You’ve done some bad things, but it doesn’t mean you can’t make up for them.”

A slow smile formed on his face. He moved with lightning fast reflexes even as his muscles protested. Leaning over her, he tilted her chin up with one hand and pressed his other against the small of her back.

“You’re very naïve, Lumine. If you’re not careful, I just might take advantage of you again,” he murmured, his lips inches from hers. His hold was loose enough that she could push him away.

His eyes that once held no emotions, were swirling with them. Sorrow, happiness, fear, hope all seemed to clash inside him. He was looking for something from her and she knew what it was.

Her hands grasped at the front of his shirt. “I forgive you.” Three simple words. His body relaxed and he closed space between them.

[knickynoo]

Doc & Marty Friendship Mega-Post

As anyone who sees my posts knows, one of my favorite things to explore in regards to Back to the Future is Doc & Marty's friendship. There are plenty of examples of great dynamic duos in TV and movies, but these two are by far my #1. I know I’ve said it (many) times before, but I’ll say it again: their friendship is beautiful for so many reasons. So, I decided to put together a huge list compiling my absolute favorite things and moments about these two time-traveling best buds. 

(Absolutely gonna need to put this under a cut. Going full-ramble, people.)

THE BED & THE AMP. Listen, I can’t even estimate how many times I’ve seen the first movie, and I never knew that there were two beds in the lab until like, 3 months ago? But it is such a good detail, and definitely one of my favorites. It makes sense too, because obviously there are probably nights Marty is helping out with a project & it gets super late so he just crashes there. But I can also imagine that Doc fully realizes that with Marty’s dysfunctional home life, his friend is gonna need a break from it all every so often. And the amp? Look, I don’t care how it came about. Maybe Marty asked Doc if they could build one. Maybe Doc decided completely on his own to just spend weeks putting the thing together. Either way, it is wonderful. Without any dialogue or backstory needed, these things tell us that Doc’s lab is a safe-haven for Marty. There’s a key right under the mat so he can come and go as he pleases, a bed for him, and a gigantic amp that he can play his music on without fear of being told he’s too loud. 

The whole “If you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything,” line. I made a whole post about it, so I won’t go into my thoughts again, but yeah, it gives me feelings. (see post here)

How absolutely thrilled Doc and Marty are to see each other in the twin pines mall scene. (It is honestly one of my favorite moments in the entire trilogy, even though it’s almost a blink and you’ll miss it kind of situation.) In like 5 seconds, there are several things happening in rapid succession that wonderfully establishes their relationship. The warmth in the way Doc says, “Marty!”. The fact that they both immediately reach out to the other for physical contact. The smiles on their faces. This is not just a scientist and his assistant, people. These two need each other and bring genuine joy to the other’s life. I mean, look at them.

     And this whole little scene is even more significant when you take into account the McFly dinner scene that we got directly prior to this. (See my breakdown of that scene here-it was one of my favorites to write) You see Marty go from this still, quiet, solemn shell of himself at dinner to smiling and asking questions and moving all around in excitement and it is FANTASTIC. 

This line:

     There’s just something kind of warm and familiar about it? The way that Doc says it almost as soon as Marty starts to ask a question & the way he reaches out to briefly grab Marty’s vest in order to further get his attention just seems to convey that this is something Doc is really used to. Like he knows that when Marty is curious about something and excited that a barrage of questions is soon to follow, so Doc’s in the habit of quickly reeling his friend’s focus back in when they have a specific task to accomplish. I don’t know, I just like it a lot.

The fact that Doc doesn’t “dumb” anything down. He rattles off all his scientific jargon, knowing that Marty has the capacity to follow along as best he can and ask questions if he needs clarification (in which case Doc will completely break it down with models or drawings because he’s all about helping Marty to understand). Unlike Strickland, Doc does not see a slacker. He knows Marty just needs to be engaged and that once he is, he’s totally into all this science stuff.

Marty & ‘55 Doc being so comfortable with each other after only a few days. Because Marty of course has to adjust to this younger version of his friend and Doc obviously just met Marty when he showed up at his house, yet there they are...already totally in tune to each other and being the best of buddies. 

THE GOODBYE SCENES. See my ramblings here & here. For real though, Marty pulling Doc into that hug & looking absolutely broken with grief is probably one of my favorite movie scenes. Like, of all the movies I’ve seen. Yeah. 

Doc traveling back and forth through time to try to pinpoint what went wrong with Marty’s kids so that he can stop it all from happening. 

The scene on the roof of Biff’s hotel when Doc is there with the DeLorean as Marty steps off the ledge? And “Nice shot, Doc!” A+

The whole letter-reading scene in part iii. The way that Marty is wandering all over the lab in the background, touching everything and clearly trying to distract himself from the reality that he’s never going to see Doc again once he gets back to 1985. And when Doc is hyped out of his mind to end up as a blacksmith & Marty goes, “Pretty heavy, huh?” trying to smile but it vanishes instantly & there’s that look on his face that so clearly says he is miserable about this whole situation. And then. AND THEN.

THE ENDING OF DOC’S LETTER from part III. “You’ve been a good, kind, and loyal friend to me, and you made a real difference in my life. I will always treasure our relationship and think on you with fond memories, warm feelings, and a special place in my heart.” !!!!!! Honestly, sometimes I just think about the impact Marty must have had on Doc. Really though. Here’s this guy who’s spent most of his life in solitude. He’s super into science & shunned by the community for being a “nutcase” just because he’s a little different and quirky. So he throws himself into his projects, has only his dogs for companionship, and talks to pictures. Then here comes this kid one day who actually takes the time to SEE DOC and appreciate who he is. Who not only accepts him completely, but thinks he’s cool and totally best friend material. Imagine what it was like for Doc to connect with someone after so many years spent alone and looked down on. 

The look of awe on Marty’s face during the scene with the telescope, as he realizes how smitten Doc is with Clara. He gives this great expression with his head sort of tilted and there’s this disbelief and wonder in his eyes as he takes in the fact that he’s seeing his best friend in love for the first time. 

Just...all the times they risk everything to save the other’s life. 

The ease with which they show affection to each other. It’s so natural and refreshing to see. They’re open and honest about their feelings, allow themselves to get emotional, and are totally comfortable with physical closeness in the form of a supportive hand on the arm or a hug. 

** I of course have to acknowledge the completely baffling lack of a hug in the parking lot scene at the end of the first movie because...honestly, who was responsible for that? I would like a word with them. You’re telling me that after running all the way to the mall, scared out of his mind at the thought of Doc dying all over again, then the way that Marty just collapses and starts sobbing that he wouldn’t immediately grab Doc after seeing that he’s alive??? I tell myself that when the scene cuts after Doc delivers his line about the letter that there was a hug there**

So, um....yeah. I could go on I’m sure, but these are the main things that came to me when I started thinking about why it is that I enjoy these guys so much. It all goes back to the same theme I’ve mentioned in several posts. There is so much heart to these films, and a lot of it comes from the friendship between Doc and Marty. They’re both misfits in their own way. Doc is isolated from the community and Marty is living in a house devoid of support and healthy role models. They fill in gaps and are a source of safety and love in the other’s life. And I appreciate so much how these funny & exciting time travel movies are able to include such a complex, beautiful friendship between a 17 year old kid and an old scientist.

[malarkay]

To Walk With Dreams and Darkness

Chapter two up!  For the perusal of the two of you who are actually seeing this and, presumably, reading it.  Thanks, gatorkid509 and yami268!

Chapter 2: Goodbyes and Greetings

Piper pushed her eggs around her plate as she tried to decide how to tell her family about her being magical.  "Hey, eat up," Robert told her as he deposited a pancake onto her plate and dusted it with confectioner sugar.  "Florence said the train leaves at 11:00 sharp, with or without you on it."

 "I'm just not very hungry," she told him as he gave Finn and Aaron each a pancake before returning to the stove to get a new batch from Agatha.  She had barely finished her sentence before Finn snatched the pancake from her plate.  "Hey!"

 "What?  You said you aren't hungry.  I am!"

 "Finn, we do not steal food off other people's plates in this house," Agatha chided from where she was pouring the last bit of batter into the pan.

 "But she didn't want it!"

 "Yes, I did!"

 "You're only saying that because I took it!"

 "It's a pancake! Of course I wanted it!"

 "Then don't say you're not hungry!"

 "You don't have to be hungry to eat a pancake!"

 "It helps!"

 Beside Finn, Aaron just shook his head slowly as he quietly ate his own breakfast.  Robert came back and gave her two pancakes, then added another one to Aaron's plate.

 "What about me?"

 Robert gave Finn 'The Look' and waited.

 "May I please have another pancake?"

 "Yes, you may, thank you for asking so politely," Robert told him, giving him one more.  He added the rest to his own plate while Agatha came to join them with her own.  

 "Are you excited, Piper?" she asked.

 "Nervous."

 "That's understandable. I think everyone is feeling a bit out of sorts this morning," Agatha said, looking at Finn, whose brow was furrowed in a frown as he shovelled food into his mouth.

 "You're going to be just fine," Robert said.  "People are going to love you."

 She smiled at him, and breakfast finished up without any further arguments.

 Ms Davies arrived a little after 9:00 and pulled her aside as Robert loaded her things into the boot of their car.  "Have you told them?"

 "Not yet.  I didn't want them to think I was crazy, so I thought I'd wait until we get to King's Cross Station.  If what Professor Skeelur told me about how to get onto the platform is right, then there's no denying that magic is real when they see it for themselves."

 "Well, you're not wrong about that," Ms Davies agreed.

 All six of them couldn't fit into one car, so they split up for the ride to King's Cross.  She and Aaron went with Ms Davies, while the Wrights took Finn with them.

 "Promise me you'll write," Aaron told her as they drove.

 "Of course I'll write," she assured him.

 "Every week."

 "I'll do my best, as long as you do the same."

 "I will.  And if you have any problems with any of the other kids and you can't handle it, not that you won't be able to handle it, but if you can't, let me know.  I'll come up there, and I'll deal with them!"

 She laughed.

 "I mean it!"

 "I know you do. That's very sweet, but I don't think you're going to have to."

 Once at King's Cross, they reunited with the others.  "Where'd you put your ticket, Piper?" Robert asked her.  "We need the platform number."

 "Um, about that," Piper said, pulling her ticket out of the messenger bag she had slung over her shoulder.  "There's something you need to know first."

 "You're having second thoughts?" Finn asked.

 "No.  It's just the school I'm going to; it's no ordinary school."

 "Pfft, okay, we knew that already.  It's for super-smart kids like you," Finn said dismissively.

 "Not exactly. It's, well, it's easier if I show you. We need to get to Platform 9 ¾."

 She watched for their reactions.  Robert and Agatha exchanged concerned glances before looking to Ms Davies for confirmation. Aaron looked confused while Finn laughed.  "Good one, Piper.  Seriously, is it platform 9 or 10?"

 "Platform 9 ¾," Ms Davies confirmed.  "You have to run at the wall that separates platforms 9 and 10."

 "I'm sorry? Florence, we've known each other a long time, but this sounds absurd," Robert said.

 "You want us to run into a wall?" Agatha asked.

 "No, I want us to run through a wall."

 The Wrights still looked rightfully sceptical, so Piper spoke up.  "Let's just go, and then Aaron, Finn and I will show you."  

 Robert shook his head but gestured for her to lead the way.  "Alright, but I really don't want to spend the rest of the day in hospital while the three of you get patched up."

 For their parts, Aaron and Finn looked excited at the prospect of either running through or into a brick wall.  When they got to the column between the two platforms, they backed up to give themselves a good running start.  "Okay, on the count of three," Aaron said.  "One."

 "You're really not even a little bit hesitant?" she asked them.

 "No, we trust you. Two."

 "This is the stupidest thing we've done all week!" Finn said, grinning.

 She glanced over to her foster parents.  Agatha was shielding her eyes from what she must assume would be imminent disaster. Robert stood with a hand covering his mouth, looking perplexed.

 "Three!"

 They raced each other to the column, and when they reached the brick, there was a moment of darkness as they passed through, and then they were on the other side.  The platform was packed with families seeing their children off to school.  On the tracks behind them was the Hogwarts Express, an impressive-looking steam locomotive, all shiny red and black and looking brand new even though she had read that it was 150 years old.    

 "Awesome!" Finn yelled, drawing several eyes toward them.  "This…this is magic!  You're magic?"

 "I'm magic!"

 "The school you're going to is a magical school?"

 "Yes."

 "That's so cool! And unfair!  Why can't we be magic, too?"

 "It's a rare gift," Ms Davies said from behind them.  They turned to see that she and the Wrights had made the journey through the platform.  The Wrights were looking around as if they thought they were having a shared nervous breakdown.

 "Aww."

 "By the way, the school isn't named Saint Cyprian's," Piper explained to the Wrights and Aaron while Finn was busy pouting.  "It's called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  When you write, just put my name and the school's name on the envelope and drop it into the post.  Professor Skeelur said it will get to me."

 "I don't understand. That professor didn't look like a wizard," Agatha said faintly.

 "To be fair, Ag, Piper doesn't look like a witch," Robert replied.

 "None of them do," Aaron said, looking around.  "Aren't witches supposed to be green?  With warts?"

 A girl a few years older than them shot him a dirty look as she passed, shaking her head. "Bloody stupid Muggles," she muttered under her breath.

 Piper crossed her arms, "That's just in the movies."

 "They do dress kinda funny, though," Finn said, getting over his disappointment.

 It was true.  While everyone was wearing Muggle clothes, not everyone was doing a very convincing job of it.  Most of the kids had managed to pull together a look that wouldn't raise too many eyebrows.  The same couldn't be said for the adults.   One woman in the crowd was wearing an elaborate ball gown, which wouldn't automatically be a problem except that it was 10:50 in the morning on a Wednesday.

 "Well, they do have their own world that's separate from ours," Piper reasoned. "It makes sense they dress a little differently."

 "As much as I'd love to stand here and discuss wizard fashion, we better get you and your luggage boarded," Robert said.  "The train leaves soon."

 Piper nodded and turned to Aaron first, hugging him.  "I'm going to miss you," she told him.

 "I'm going to miss you, too.  But you'll be back for Christmas.  And we're going to write each other all the time," he reminded her.  "It'll be like you never left!"

 She let him go and turned to Finn.

 "Well, I'm not gonna miss you even a little," Finn said.

 "Good, because I'm not going to miss you either."

 "I suppose you expect a hug."

 "This is the last time we're going to see each other for the next three and a half months, but I'm not going to twist your arm."

 He scoffed and hugged her, surprising her a little with the fierceness of it.  She hugged him back just as tightly, and he buried his face in her shoulder.  She felt a bit of dampness seep through her shirt.  "Are you crying?" she whispered, even as she felt her own eyes start to sting.  

 "No," he lied.

 They broke apart after a long moment, and Aaron threw an arm around Finn's shoulders as she went to hug Agatha goodbye.  She even hugged Ms Davies.  Once her goodbyes were said, she and Robert went and got her trunk settled into the luggage van.  After that, there was nothing left to do but board the train herself.

 Students crowded the corridor, congregating to greet old friends or looking for a compartment to settle down in.

 She picked her way slowly down the corridor, searching for a seat. The compartments were filling up fast, but she managed to come across one that carried only three occupants, two boys and a girl who all looked to be fellow incoming first years.

 "Do you mind if I sit in here?"

 The three looked at her appraisingly before exchanging glances, coming to an unspoken consensus. One of the boys, a stocky kid with shaggy brown hair, spoke, "Compartment's full."

 She put her hands on her hips, frowning at the blatant lie. If they didn't want her around, the least they could do was have the guts to be honest about it. "It doesn't look full to me."

 The group's spokesperson scowled, but it quickly shifted into a grin as he looked over her shoulder and waved to someone behind her. "Lark! Saved you a seat!"

 Piper glanced around and spotted the girl from the wand shop. Their eyes met, but if she recognized her, she did a good job of not showing it.  "How very thoughtful of you, Alex," she said dryly as she slipped past Piper to join them.

 "You know me, always thinking," the boy said.  "Besides, I haven't seen you since you've been back.  We've got a lot to catch up on."  He looked back to the doorway, feigning surprise that Piper was still there.  "I thought I already told you that there's no more room.  Find somewhere else to be.  Oh, and close the door for us on your way out, would you?"

 "Close it yourself!" Piper turned on her heels and stormed off. Her departure was met with a chorus of snickers from the group.  In her annoyance, she failed to watch where she was going and ended up nearly bowled over a lanky boy with ginger hair.

 "Whoa!" He reached out to take hold of her shoulders, steadying them both after their collision. "Are you alright?"

 "Yes, I'm fine," she snapped and immediately felt terrible.  "Sorry I ran into you," she told him more gently.

 "It's okay.  And are you sure you're fine?  Because I might not be if I had to deal with that gang of tossers."

 She looked up at him, wide-eyed. "You saw that?"

 "Yeah. You're better off, honestly. You don't want to be friends with them."

 "You know them?"

 "Well, no, not personally," he admitted with a slight frown. "More by reputation. Come on, let's find somewhere to sit, then we can talk more."

 She trailed along behind him until he found a compartment that was empty save for a blonde girl.

 "Mind if we join you?" he asked her.

 "Not at all. I'm Dierdra Macmillan."

 "Bill Weasley. And this is," he paused to let Piper introduce herself.

 "Piper Cochran," she said, sitting next to Dierdra. Bill sat across from them.

 "Is this your first year at Hogwarts?" Dierdra asked. They both nodded. "Mine, too. I can't wait! What House do you think you'll be sorted into?"

 "My mum and dad were both in Gryffindor," Bill answered. "It wouldn't surprise me if I'm put there."

 "My father was in Ravenclaw, my mother in Hufflepuff.  But I'm not sure where I'll be placed, honestly."

 Piper's face grew hot as they spoke. She curled up in her seat and tried to stay out of the conversation, but Bill had other plans.

 "I'd wager Piper is going to be sorted into Gryffindor. You should have seen how she had a run-in with a group of bullies and didn't let them intimidate her," he grinned.

 Dierdra's face twisted as if she'd been force-fed a lemon. "Bet I can guess who you're talking about. Alex Nott and his friends?  I saw them earlier."

 "Do you know him?"

 "Unfortunately. We're distant cousins on our mothers' sides.  Not distant enough for our paths to never cross, sadly.  He's always been an insufferable prat."

 "My condolences."

 "Thank you. Anyway, I don't understand why the Ministry is even allowing the children of Death Eaters to attend Hogwarts."

 Bill shrugged. "You can't really punish them for what their parents did, can you?"

 Piper chewed her lip as curiosity warred with her embarrassment over not understanding what they were talking about. In the end, curiosity won. "What's a Death Eater?"

 Dierdra looked at her in surprise before realization lit her face. "Oh, you're Muggle-born! Why didn't you say so? Death Eaters were followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

 Piper's lack of comprehension must have shown because Dierdra elaborated, "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was a dark wizard who believed Pure-bloods should rule the world. A lot of good people who disagreed with that died in the war against him."

 Piper gaped at her, "There was a war? When?" How could there have been an entire war going on right under their noses, and they had never noticed?

 "It went on for practically our whole lives. It just ended last October when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was finally stopped. As for his followers, a lot of them have been sent to Azkaban."

 "And a lot of others managed to lie their way out of trouble," Bill added.

 "Or buy their way out of it," Dierdra added with distaste. "And who knows how many others are out there who haven't been caught yet?"

 "So those kids back there, you're saying their parents are Death Eaters?"

 Dierdra shrugged, "The Ministry suspected Thaddeus Nott of being one.  They even put him on trial, but in the end, they couldn't prove it. That's Alex's uncle, though.  They never suspected his father, but as someone who has met the man, I can tell you that the odds are good that he was one, too.  The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

 "The Cyclonis' definitely were," Bill said. "It was a real shock when that came out after they died. Cyneric Cyclonis had a good reputation within the Ministry. My dad works there, too.  He says a lot of people thought it was only a matter of time before he'd run for Minister for Magic and that he'd probably win."

 "How'd they die?"

 "No one knows. My dad says it was probably You-Know-Who," Bill answered.  "He'd do that, sometimes, kill his own followers if they upset him badly enough."

 "Was there never an investigation?"

 "There was, but…"

 "But what?"

 "But they were Death Eaters.  The Ministry wasn't going to put too much effort into solving the murder of a couple of Death Eaters, no matter how popular they may have been before their secret came out," Dierdra finished bluntly when Bill hesitated.

 "That's awful."

 "A lot of awful things happened in the war," Dierdra said, in a tone that suggested that the story they had just told her was amongst the least of them.

 Piper knew what it felt like to lose both parents. Dierdra may not feel any sympathy toward Lark, but Piper couldn't help it. But the way that Bill and Dierdra spoke made the Death Eaters sound more like terrorists than soldiers in a war. She couldn't make herself feel too bad for Lark's parents in that case. Still, it'd drive her crazy if her parents were murdered, and no one cared enough to find out who did it or why.

 "You still with us, Piper?"

 "Huh? Oh, yeah, sorry. I was just thinking."

 "That was a lot of information we hit you with all at once," Bill said apologetically. "I'm sure the school library will have old copies of The Daily Prophet if you want to read up on the war. Some of the stories are pretty bad, though."

 Piper nodded, "I'll take a look. I want to be able to understand what people are talking about, after all."

 "You'll get used to the wizarding world pretty quickly," Dierdra assured her. "It can't be all that different from the Muggle one, can it?"

 Piper laughed. Just from what she'd seen so far, she knew they were very different. "You have no idea."

 "Anything off the trolley, dears?"

 Piper looked toward the door where a kindly looking old woman stood with a trolley laden with sweets.

 "I brought something from home, thank you," she said.

 "Me, too," Bill said.

 "What?" Dierdra sounded absolutely scandalized. "Piper, you at least have to get your first chocolate frog."  She hopped out of her seat and handed the trolley attendant some money. "Three chocolate frogs, please."

 She was handed three fancy looking boxes. She passed one to Piper, one to Bill, and retook her seat with the third.

 "Thanks, Dierdra, but you really didn't need to buy us anything," Piper said.

 "But I wanted to. Open it up! Each chocolate frog comes with a collectable card."

 Piper pulled off the seal that held the box closed and flipped open the lid. As she did, the chocolate frog within leapt right out of the box. She made a grab for it, snatching it out of midair before it could hit the ground.

 "Whoa, nice reflexes!" Bill exclaimed.

 She held the squirming frog out at arm's length. "Is it supposed to do that?" she yelped.

 Dierdra covered her mouth. She was trying not to laugh and not doing a good job of it. "Sorry! I know I should have warned you, but I really wanted to see your reaction."

 "The frogs are enchanted," Bill explained with a grin. "They're fine to eat once they stop moving."

 Piper tentatively opened her hand. Luckily, the frog's enchantment really had worn off, and she was able to put the now still frog back in the box after retrieving the card.

 She looked down at the pentagonal card. A blonde-haired woman wearing an old-fashioned aviator cap and goggles smiled up at her. At the bottom of the card read the name Jocunda Sykes. As she watched, the woman waved and snapped off a little salute.

 "They're animated!"

 "Well, sure, why wouldn't they be?"

 She flipped the card over. There was a little blurb about Jocunda's accomplishments printed there. She was the first witch the fly across the Atlantic Ocean on a broom back in 1935. Piper thought that sounded like a lot of fun.

 "Are we going to learn how to fly on a broom at Hogwarts?"

 "Of course! Not only that, but if you're any good at it, you can try out for your House Quidditch team."

 "Quidditch? Oh!  There was a shop in Diagon Alley that had that in its name, but I didn't think to ask what it meant."

 Dierdra and Bill grinned at each other.

 "You might as well get your lunch out and make yourself comfortable; we've got a lot to talk about."

 ~*~*~

 Talk they did, until some older students came along, walking down the corridor and knocking on doorframes. "One hour to Hogsmeade Station. Time to start thinking about changing into your robes."

 Dierdra pointed a finger out into the corridor. "Out, Bill. We'll change first."

 Bill went to stand out in the corridor, and Dierdra slid the door closed, pulling down the window shade.

 They changed into their uniforms without much chin-wagging, so they didn't keep Bill waiting too long. Piper had to admit that she felt a little silly as she slipped her robes over her uniform.

 Once ready, they swapped places with Bill. By the time they were all dressed, the older students were making their rounds again. "Half an hour to Hogsmeade Station! Make sure you have everything you brought with you! The train won't be coming back until the Christmas holiday!"

 Before she knew it, the train was pulling into the station. They made their way to the exit and stepped out into the night. The station bustled with activity.

 "All luggage and pets over there! They will be brought to your dormitories!"

 "Second through seventh years, make your way to the carriages! Four students per carriage, please! We won't have a repeat of last year! Looking at you, fifth-year Gryffindors!"

 "Firs' years? Firs' years this way, follow me!"

 Piper and the others followed the sound of the last booming voice and discovered that it belonged to an immense man with long dark hair and a beard. He was broad, but more than that, he was tall. Taller by far than anyone she had ever seen before. Twice her height, easily, and then some!

 Looking around, she saw many of the others openly gawking at him. So, some things took even wizarding children by surprise. Good to know.

 He led them to the edge of a lake, where a small fleet of rowboats waited.

 "Alrigh' then, in the boats yeh go!" he told them, overseeing them all. They sat four to a boat. Piper, Bill and Dierdra were joined by a boy who introduced himself as Liam Logue.

 Once all the first years settled into their boats, the giant man stepped into one of his own. It creaked loudly under his weight but stayed afloat. His boat moved of its own accord, pulling out in front of all the others, and all the other boats followed.

 She looked out over the lake to their destination and inhaled sharply. An expansive castle rose from the craggy shores at the far side of the lake. A gibbous moon rose into the clear, starry skies behind it, casting its glowing reflection into the lake in front of them. It was beautiful. A low murmur of appreciation rippled through the fleet of boats at the view.

 As they drew nearer to the castle, the man called out, "Watch yer heads!"

 She ducked slightly as the boat glided through an ivy-covered opening in the cliff. They sailed on through an underground tunnel before coming to a stop on a rocky shore. They climbed out and followed the man up a flight of stone steps to a heavy wooden door. The man knocked three times, loudly, and the door swung open.

 They followed him into a large entry hall, coming to a stop in front of a strict looking woman with her black hair pulled into a tight bun.

 "Professor McGonagall," the man greeted. "The new firs' years for yeh."

 "Thank you, Hagrid," the woman replied. "Follow me," she said to them. She led them across the large entrance hall, stopping before another large door.

 She turned to address them. "The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin. But first, there are a few things you should know. There are four houses at Hogwarts: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each of you will be sorted into one of these houses, where you will remain throughout your years here. Over the course of the year, you will have many opportunities to win your house points. Any misbehaviour, however, may lead to the deduction of points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will win the house cup. Now then, are you all ready?"

 They all nodded, and Professor McGonagall pushed open the doors, striding into the Great Hall beyond. They trailed after her, and Piper stared in wonder. Four long tables stretched along the length of the hall, two on each side of the walkway they followed the professor down. Dozens of kids already sat at each table, watching them. At the head of each table hung a banner depicting what she assumed was each house's crest. Green and silver emblazoned with a serpent, blue and bronze with an eagle, scarlet and gold with a lion, and yellow and black with a badger.

 Hundreds of candles floated in midair above them, casting a soft flickering glow throughout the hall. The ceiling, well, she wasn't sure there was a ceiling. It looked exactly like the night sky had outside. Even the phase of the moon was the same.

 Upon a raised dais, at the front of the hall, sat another long table where the teaching staff sat. She spotted Professor Skeelur amongst them and tried not to gawk.  His hair was styled into a tousled quiff; the long top section dyed green while the shorter sides were purple. Even his goatee was purple. He was dressed in robes, black with silver trim on the outside, but with a violently fluorescent lime green lining that glared out from the inside of his hood and sleeves.  She could just imagine the look on her foster mother's face if he had shown up to their house looking like that. Aaron and Finn would think it was the wickedest thing ever, though. She felt a twinge at the thought of them. She really wished they could be here, too.

 In front of the table, right in the centre of the dais, sat a stool with a wide-brimmed, pointed hat sitting atop it. The hat looked ancient and worn, and she wondered what purpose it served in all of this.

 Professor McGonagall led them right up to the steps leading up to the dais before climbing the steps herself to stand behind the stool.

 An expectant silence fell over the hall, and after a moment, the hat began to sing.  Because, of course it did.

 Before I Sort you all tonight, there's one thing to make clear,

A note to both the tall and small that I find apt this year.

When Godric, Helga, Rowena and Salazar began,

They joined forces to achieve their illustrious grand plan.

For all four were well aware that they could not unaided,

See their great ambition reached; they were not yet so jaded.

So all together they succeeded in their common quest,

To build a school that the wizarding world would name the best.

And while it's true that each had certain values that they sought,

When it came time to fill these halls, it's everyone they taught.

So, while it is my job to place in Ravenclaw the wise,

And make sure that it is the true that Hufflepuff comprise,

And while in Gryffindor it is that boldness must reside,

And into Slytherin go those whose aspirations guide,

I bid you to remember that united we are strong,

And don't forget that each and every one of you belongs.

 "When I call your name, come up and take a seat on the stool," Professor McGonagall said once the hat fell silent.  She retrieved a scroll of parchment from a pocket in her robes, unrolled it, and called the first name.

 "Agarwal, Arjun."

 A nervous-looking boy wearing a black turban climbed the steps and took a seat, and Professor McGonagall placed the hat on his head. They all waited in eager anticipation to see what would happen next. They weren't kept waiting long. About fifteen seconds later, the hat called out, "Hufflepuff!"

 The kids at the yellow and black table broke into applause, and the boy smiled and hopped off the stool to join them.

 She watched as the same scene played out for a couple more kids, and then the professor called out, "Avery, Josephine."

 Piper frowned. She recognized the plump, bespectacled girl as part of the group that had rebuffed her on the train.

 Less than ten seconds went by before the hat yelled, "Slytherin!"

 The green and silver table burst into loud applause as she joined them.

 "Boo!" someone called from the scarlet and gold table, and Professor McGonagall shot them a look that Piper was very happy to not be on the receiving end of.

 "Decorum, ladies and gentlemen," the professor said sharply. "This is your one reminder! Brimble, Claudia."

 "Gryffindor!"

 That was met with riotous celebration by the scarlet and gold table.

 Bryne, Elliott and a pair of twins by the name Cadwallader all went to Hufflepuff. And then...

 "Cochran, Piper.'

 She slowly mounted the steps and sat on the stool. Professor McGonagall placed the hat on her head, and the brim slipped down over her eyes, obstructing her view of the Great Hall.

 She nearly jumped when a voice spoke to her. 'Let's see what's in this head of yours, shall we? Hmmm, interesting. You're quite intelligent, aren't you? I see a great deal of curiosity. You're studious and creative. You'd do very well in Ravenclaw. Very well, indeed.'

 She waited for the hat to shout that out to the rest of the room. Instead, the hat spoke again.

 'Not so fast. I'm not done with you yet. There's more here. I see bravery. I see a desire to do the right thing. You're someone who won't tolerate injustice when you see it, who won't back down from a fight. Fine traits in a Gryffindor.'

 Again, she waited for the hat to make its announcement, and again it did not.

 'I haven't decided yet. You're a difficult case. I believe you'd excel in either house. But what about you? What do you think?'

 'I don't know,' she thought to the hat. 'I don't know enough about either house to decide.'

 'You don't need to know anything about them. You just need to know yourself. What matters to you?'

 'I don't know!' she thought, frustrated. 'I want...'

 'Yes?'

 'I want to feel like I'm part of something, like a team or a family. I already miss mine. Don't get me wrong, I'm excited about learning magic. Really, really excited! But I worry I'll end up too homesick to enjoy it.'

 'I see. Each house is like a family to its members, but it is true that some form closer bonds than others. Of the four, Ravenclaw is the most individualistic. And so, I believe, the matter is settled.'

 "Gryffindor!"

 The hat was pulled off her head, and she made her way to the cheering Gryffindor table.

 "I told you!" Bill said as she passed him, and they grinned at each other.

 She found a place to sit at the table, getting handshakes and backslaps from everyone within arm's reach. She couldn't stop smiling as she turned her attention back to the sorting.

 "Coventry, Maximus."

 That did make her smile falter a bit. The scrawny kid with dark, curly hair who took his place on the sorting stool was the other silently judgmental boy from the train. It came as no surprise to her when the hat called out, "Slytherin!"

 "Everyone is getting sorted so fast," she commented to an older girl who sat next to her. "When I was up there, it felt like it took forever!"

 "You actually were up there for a while," the girl told her. "Close to two minutes. Some people aren't as easy for the hat to figure out as others. It's not a bad thing. The hat wants to make sure you end up in the house that's right for you. I don't think I'd trust it if it sorted everyone in five seconds."

 "I suppose that's true," Piper conceded as she turned her attention back to the ceremony.

 "Cyclonis, Larkspur."

 Piper expected her to be sorted as quickly as the Coventry boy, but ten seconds passed, and the hat remained silent. Fifteen seconds. Thirty. A minute. It was a minute and a half before the hat made its decision.

 "Slytherin!"

 "See?" the older girl told her reassuringly. "It's not uncommon."

 The sorting went on for some time. Their boat mate Liam went to Hufflepuff. Dierdra ended up in Ravenclaw. Alexander Nott landed in Slytherin. Eventually, the group was whittled down to three.

 "Weasley, William."

 The hat had scarcely settled on his head before it declared, "Gryffindor!"

 He took a seat across from her and smiled. "Mum and Dad will be happy."

 Winters, Gideon was sorted into Hufflepuff and Woodlock, Aisling into Ravenclaw. And with that, the sorting was complete.

 The stool and hat were replaced with an elaborate owl lectern, and a man stepped up to address the room. He looked exactly how she expected a wizard to look. He was a tall, thin man draped in midnight blue robes, with long white hair and a long beard. He studied them through gold-framed, half-moon glasses.

 "I'd like to start with a brief announcement. As many of you may have already noticed, Professor Skeelur has returned to us. He will not be resuming his role as Divination professor, however, as Professor Trelawney will be staying on in that position. Instead, he will be taking over the teaching of Defense Against the Dark Arts."

 Professor Skeelur stood and gave a jaunty bow as the students applauded.

 "Now then, for those of you who may not know, I am Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster of this school, and it is my pleasure to welcome you all to a new year at Hogwarts. You know, I've always found the beginning of a new school year to be a magical time, a time of new beginnings and new possibilities.  And this year, I feel it even more keenly.  We have been through tumultuous times in recent years.  For some of you, that is all you've ever known.  But we have weathered that storm.  Those days are behind us now, and we are free to look to the future with a renewed sense of hope.  And that is what I feel when I look at all of you now.  Hope.  The hope that we can help guide you into becoming the best possible versions of yourselves.  You are the future of the wizarding world, and it is my fervent wish that your future is a bright one, one full of peace, and prosperity, and progress.  That is the world you deserve to know."

 He paused, letting his words sink in as his gaze slowly swept across the hall.

 When he spoke again, his tone was more light-hearted, "But that's enough talk for one night. Enjoy the feast!"

 With those words, a multitude of steaming serving bowls and platters laden with food appeared in the centre of the table.

 She helped herself to a slice of roast beef and one of baked ham, roast potatoes with garlic and rosemary, Yorkshire pudding, peas and glazed carrots and tucked in for a night of good food and conversation.

 She discovered that the older girl she had spoken to during the sorting was a fifth-year prefect named Cathy Wells. She assured Piper and the other first years within earshot that they could come to her with any questions or concerns.

 She also learned that two other first years at the table were Muggle-born and just as excited as she was to be here learning real magic. Connor Monohan was from Wexford, Ireland, while Edgar Grant was from Leeds.  When they found out that she was from Brixton, they wanted to know all about her experience with the riots from the previous summer. Her foster parents had kept her and her brothers well clear of the violence, but she told them what she could of those days and their aftermath. The conversation fascinated the wizarding kids, who didn't seem to grasp the concept of racial tension until one of the older Muggle-born students compared it to Pure-bloods versus Muggle-borns. That had everyone chiming in with their own stories from that same summer. Apparently, the Death Eaters had been particularly emboldened in the months leading up to You-Know-Who's downfall.

 Cathy only let the conversation get so far before she steered it away from the grim turn it had taken. No one complained.

 The dinner dishes vanished as Bill told them funny stories of his five little brothers and baby sister. In their place, an entire spread of pudding appeared. Being stuffed from dinner didn't stop her from taking a slice of Victoria sponge cake.

 About half an hour later, all the plates disappeared. Professor McGonagall, who Piper had learned was both Deputy Headmistress and the Head of Gryffindor, announced that it was time for the prefects to lead their houses to the dormitories.

 Piper followed Cathy out of the Great Hall and off to the staircases. "Pay attention," Cathy instructed them. "The staircases change, and you don't want to get lost on the way to Gryffindor Tower later when you're all on your own."

 Sure enough, as Piper watched, some of the staircases overhead shifted from one landing to another. "We're this way," Cathy pointed out before mounting the steps. "Seventh floor."

 She led them up several flights of stairs and down a hallway to another spiral staircase that led to a large landing where a portrait of a large woman hung on the wall.

 "The Fat Lady guards our common room entrance," Cathy explained.

 "Password?" the portrait requested.

 "Frabjous day!"

 "Callooh!  Callay!" the Fat Lady replied with a delighted laugh, and the portrait swung open to reveal a round door that opened into a circular common room. The room was warm and cosy, with a fire roaring in a large fireplace. A lion portrait hung above the mantle, and the walls were lined with paintings and tapestries in varying shades of red and gold. Overstuffed scarlet chairs and sofas dotted the room. Several long tables could accommodate multiple students for studying, along with smaller side tables that held books or chessboards. Tall windows were spaced in even intervals along the walls. During the day, the common room was sure to be bathed in sunlight. A few nooks and alcoves were cut into the walls, which would lend a small amount of privacy to the few occupants they would allow. Near the door stood a message board. Cathy explained that they could find announcements such as Quidditch tryouts, club meeting schedules, and changes to the common room password posted there.

 "First-year girls, follow me. I'll show you to your dorm," Cathy said. "First-year boys, follow Matthew. He'll show you to yours."

 She pointed to a blond boy who looked about the same age as Cathy. The boy saluted, "Matt Higgins, at your service."

 Bill and the other boys broke away from the group to follow Matt while Piper and the girls followed Cathy up a side staircase to a room that housed five four-poster beds in a circle around the room, each bed draped with heavy scarlet curtains. Their trunks were placed at the end of the beds for them, and they each had a plain wooden chair and nightstand of their own.

 "Breakfast is served in the Great Hall from 6:30 to 8:30. You'll get your class timetable at breakfast tomorrow. Classes begin at 9:00. Whatever you do, don't be late! We don't want to start the year with negative house points. Curfew is between 9:00 PM and 6:00 AM, except when you have astronomy. Other than that, no wandering the castle in the middle of the night. It's against the rules, but besides that, it's dangerous. Lights out at 10:00.  Bathrooms are one flight up the stairs we took to get here. Any questions?"

 They all shook their heads no.

 "Well then, sleep well!"

 With that, Cathy left them to their own devices. They chatted as they prepared for bed. Her dormmates were Claudia Brimble, Maeve McCarver, Catriona Taggart, and Jocasta Erskine. None of them were Muggle-born, although Claudia and Catriona both had one non-magical parent, so the Muggle world wasn't a completely foreign concept to them. They all seemed friendly, and Piper thought they would probably get on well enough during their time here.

 "We should probably get to sleep soon," she said as she laid out her uniform for the following day. "Like Cathy said, we don't want to be late."

 The others agreed, and soon they were all tucked snugly into bed for the night.