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hankwritten · 10 months

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A Tavern Named Keep [3/6]

Demoman-centric Modern AU

[1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6]

In a small uni-town in New Mexico, DeGroot Keep serves liquor and succor to an eclectic yet loyal group of patrons, and has for many years. The Keep owes its success to its equally colorful owner, who always seems to know what you need—whether that be a stiff beer or a word of advice. But, between setting up his patrons or sifting through his friends’ problems, will Tavish remember to take care of himself?

Above the façade front door of DeGroot Keep is an unreachable third floor, its purpose assumed by those who walk the streets below to be some sort of attic or perhaps storage space, if they wonder about it at all. What Tavish conceals above the stairs in the back of the kitchen is actually, in fact, his apartment, boasting one room and a claustrophobic little bathroom added sometime during the 20th century. It’s space enough for him: there’s a desk computer, a bed, a half-sized bookshelf crammed with fantasy paperbacks, and a tinkering table whose purposes are better left undisclosed. (Privacy is not the only reason the kitchen stairs are hidden. Such is the lot of men with less than legal hobbies.)

If you were to ask if he wants for anything, he might complain that he isn’t able to move the coffee maker upstairs, but requests for further elaboration would be met with a dispassionate shrug. The kitchen isn’t so far, and what he lacks in elbow room he makes up for in convenience; everything he needs in the morning is only an arm’s length away. The way Tavish usually starts his day is by getting his shower in, shaving, and dressing all within the span of a half-hour, barely moving outside a few cubic meters.

The way Tavish does not usually start his day is with the unhallowed ringing of the landline he uses to make international calls to his mother every Saturday. The digital clock reads 6:46 in the watery light from the circular attic window, but it could be the witching hour for all Tavish wants to get out of bed. But out of bed is the only place he can silence the infernal thing, so up he gets.

“Hello,” he grumbles his barely contained contempt into the receiver, rubbing rheum from his eye.

On the other side, there is heavy breathing.

A sterner man would have assumed he was being punked. A less stern man would have gone and grabbed the rosary from his dresser drawer and warned that he feared no evil spirits and he was well trained in the art of dispelling the profane. However, Tavish merely lapses, standing there in the middle of the room wearing nothing but his boxers, listening as the heavy breathing is intercut by the occasional apologetic mumble and several egregiously incomprehensible attempts at explanation.

The cold floor is biting him through his socks. He sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just tell me the station number, I’ll be there in a few.”

There is a grateful keening noise, and the morning is sacrificed to a long and troubled drive that does not help the barkeep’s ever-present hangover. He’s been told once or twice that a businessman shouldn’t sample his own wares, but in all fairness he’s been an alcoholic a lot longer than he’s been a bar owner. On the ride back to the Keep, he hushes Pyro several times, assuring them he’s not mad and can we just save the explanations for when we’re back home, aye?

However, as soon as they reach the tavern Pyro chooses that moment to clam up entirely.

“Oh come on now duck,” Tavish tries to coax. “We’re already bleeding Mayor Piggycorn dry here, the least you can do is tell me what went wrong.”

Mayor Piggycorn—originally named for the construction paper horn taped to his head, and then renamed by the sticky note saying ‘Pyro Bail Fund’—still has a few quarters jingling around in his belly, but only just. Tavish slips the bank back onto the shelf.

“I’ll tell you what went wrong!” Jane, present when they’d arrived despite the fact that both people with the authority to open the bar had been gone all morning, says as Pyro futzes with their hands. “Your cook lights things on fire when they’re in a bad mood, and they also light things on fire when they're in a very good mood.”

Accuracy notwithstanding, this is clearly not the time, and Tavish shoots Jane a withering glare. To Pyro he asks, “can you at least tell me what sort of property you damaged?”

They mumble something. It sounds like ‘dumpster’.

“Ah well that’s not so bad.”

Silence hangs for a few seconds. Jane is right though, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out this isn’t a good mood sort of burning.

“Pyro,” he says firmly. “What’s eating you.”

As though the words can’t contain themselves anymore, it all bubbles out, hand waving and muffled cursing like this morning’s phone conversation. They quickly grow frustrated with the inadequacy of this mode of communication, and switch to sign language.

“<It’s Scout! He’s been avoiding me and I don’t know what I did wrong!>”

Tavish sighs. It’s a sighing sort of day apparently. He should have known Jeremy would be the source of more Pyro troubles.

“<He’s just stopped…hanging out with me. Whenever I go home and he’s there he pretends he doesn’t see me unless I say hi first. And then he’ll say hi but he’ll just go back to playing whatever and he never invites me to join anymore and I feel really awkward asking for a ride so I’ve just been walking everywhere.>”

They take a moment, shoving their hands in their armpits as they try to calm down. Tavish walks over to put an arm around their shoulders, glaring at Jane until he looks properly abashed.

When they’re breathing steadier they try again. “<Last night I asked him if he was mad at me. If I had said something to make him angry, and he got really defensive and said nothing’s wrong. When I said all that stuff I just said to you, he did get mad, and said that he needed to…Think about things? And then! He just left! He went out and didn’t come back to the apartment last night and I was pissed at him for lying to me but also scared that he’d never come home and so I went to the Lecture Valley Dolphin Shack and set their dumpster on fire.>”

Tavish shares a look with the outside of Jane’s hat. “Ach, well…it wasn’t right of him to lie, but sometimes we tell our loved ones nothing’s wrong when we don’t want them to worry.”

“<That’s stupid.>”

“Aye, but Scout’s a stupid kid.”

Pyro looks at the ground. “<He’s my stupid kid. I just want things to be normal between us and not weird and awkward.>”

That phrasing clicks something into place in Tavish’s mind.

“<I don’t want to go to class today,>” Pyro admits after a while.

“That’s fair. Why don’t you go sleep it off in the back room, alright? I’ll bring you something in a bit.”

Pyro collides with his stomach, wrapping him in one of their famous hugs with a muffled thanks Tavish to his chest.

“Ah, no need for that. Off you go.”

Pyro does, and Tavish sets about making the forcibly delayed breakfast, though now for three. He may not have his chef’s talent, but there are plenty of things a bachelor can make that can’t be screwed up too badly.

“…You come away from that thinking the same thing I did?” he asks, cracking six eggs into a well-oiled pan.

“Unless it is a composition of the national anthem as sung by the Western Meadowlark, I find that unlikely.”

Jane, who’s followed him into the kitchen, leans against the countertop. The place is neater than Tavish left it last night, the man to blame playing with the raccoon-shaped salt & pepper shakers as he waits for the eggs to cook. Every once in a while he breaks into the Keep—the untidiness of Tavish’s ‘fortifications’ apparently driving him crazy—and attacks the place in a frenzy until it can pass muster. It was disconcerting at first, but after a few times of finding the back of the bar perforcedly reorganized, Tavish figured that it was worth the small security flaw. Plus, Jane always hangs around after. Tavish pities any real burglar that tries to storm the place.

“I mean Scout and Pyro,” Tavish says, pushing down the toaster. “You remember how Scout went with them to that club the other week?”

“My memory is that of a hippopotamus, but I do not see the relevance.”

“Just thinking.” Tavish idly chews the inside of his cheek, a habit his dentist has railed against on more than one occasion. Tavish’s reply is always that moriscatio buccarum is probably on the kinder end of things he does to his body. “Scout went on a lark it seems. I can’t imagine what would drive a wedge between the two of them, you know how they’re like together.”

“Hooligans, bordering on hippie-dom.”

“I mean they’re affectionate,” Tavish says. “Do you ever get the feeling…maybe there’s something more there?”

Jane shrugs. “Possible, I guess.”

“And he said he needed to go think about something,” Tavish muses. Now that he’s on this train of thought it’s hard to stop. “Ah, poor kid. Must be rough thinking you’re straight this long and then suddenly discovering you’re in love with your best friend.”

Soldier grumbles something that Tavish misses. Before he can ask him to repeat it, the toaster pops, and Tavish runs over to arrange the finishing touches. When he slides the platter in front of Jane, the ranger immediately attacks it with the salt.

“What?” Tavish balks, the highest offense in his pitch. “You’re nae even going to try it first?”

The accusation is met only with a grin. Jane lifts the peppershaker (a black raccoon with white stripes, to differentiate it from the saltshaker’s white raccoon with black stripes) and proceeds to upend it over the eggs as well.

Tavish huffs, then turns to where he knows he’ll have at least one connoisseur with taste.

“Feeling better, duck?” he asks, sliding a plate and a glass of orange juice on the back room’s lone folding table.

They mumble something through blankets and gasmask. Nothing will get better with Jeremy gone, it seems.

“Don’t worry mate. I know just what’s got to be done.” With that, he leaves so that Pyro can eat in privacy.

Jane narrows his eyes as soon as steps foot in the kitchen. “What’s got to be done? You better not be up to what I think you’re up to! That crap with Mikhail and Ludwig was supposed to be a one time thing.”

“Ah…overheard that did you.” Tavish resists the urge to rub the back of his neck: he’s got nothing to be ashamed about, this is a good idea. “Well it makes sense, doesn’t it? They love each other to bits, maybe they just need a nudge in the right direction.”

Jane still looks unconvinced.

“At the very least you got to admit this time is important!” Tavish says in exasperation. “Pyro’s heartbroken, Scout’s gone rogue, and I’m not resting until I get them to make up.”

“…”

“Nothing you say can convince me otherwise!”

Soldier dips his toast in yolk.

Tavish makes a noise of disgust, and leaves to get his tavern ready for another night of romance.

The first, and most important, preparation is to get Jeremy to show up. He shoots the boy a text, aiming for the weakness that he knows all college students in general—but athletes in particular—share: the promise of free food. There is technically an event happening at DeGroot Keep tonight, and Jeremy can have the leftovers if he comes. None of it a lie, per say, but Tavish fails to mention that the event in question is a date between him and his roommate.

“This looks familiar,” Dr. Ludwig says as he sits at the bar and marvels at the candles. “You’re not setting up another pair of your patrons, are you?”

His chuckle dies on his lips as Tavish quickly passes him his beer and says nothing.

“You are? Mein Gott. You never let up, do you DeGroot?”

“Oi, it worked out for you, didn’t it?” Tavish says. In a careful change of the subject before Ludwig can ask which patrons, he adds, “where is Mikhail, anyway? You two are going somewhere tonight, right?”

“Indeed we are.” Ludwig puffs up. “We’re heading to see the opera in Las Vegas.”

“…Las Vegas?” Tavish raises an eyebrow.

“Fine, you caught me. Las Vegas, New Mexico.”

“I take it the opera was Mikhail’s idea?”

The offense on Ludwig’s face is clear. “I happen to quite enjoy opera music. We planned this together.”

“Didn’t mean anything by it, Doc.” Tavish holds up his hands. “It just seems like neither of you would have the, er, temperament for it.”

“Then perhaps you know less about us than you think.” Outside, a pair of headlights flash. “Ah, that’s him. Auf Wiedersehen DeGroot, good luck with… whatever the hell this is.”

Shaking his head, Tavish is just about to scoop up the doctor’s empty beer when Pyro tugs on his shirtsleeve.

They look despondent, their mask-lenses are one step away from drooping like a cartoon character. A finger points at the kitchen, then at the side door, the universal expression of, “I’m heading out now.”

Tavish glances at the (limited edition, Birds of the Southern United States) clock and sees that it really is getting late. But Jeremy still hasn’t shown, and Tavish rushes to stall.

“…Actually, I was hoping you could run the lower bar for a bit? Just to take some of the pressure.”

Somehow, Pyro’s shoulder’s drop further, and Tavish fends off a wave of guilt. But, loyal soul that they are, they plod down to the street-level.

Only needed on truly busy nights, the inventory of the lower bar is locked up tight since it can’t be watched from all angles. Usually Broderick, (Tavish’s authentic DeGroot heirloom suit of armor) mans the area, which means Pyro has to shove him aside in order to unlock the liquor cabinets. They do all this with the grace of the mortally condemned.

This isn’t going well. Tavish checks his phone to see that Jeremy never even responded, not even one of his indecipherable emojis. Before long he’s become glued to his screen, checking it every thirty seconds as the hour hand slowly moves towards the Belted Kingfisher, and one by one the late stayers trickle out. Tavish has never had a problem with barflies, (it’s not the most lively part of town), but for once he very much wishes he’d have some sorry slob that he can’t unstick from the bar with a spatula, if only for the excuse.

But enough time ticks by that Pyro approaches him again, and the bar’s now empty enough that he can’t deny them their request. They slink out the door, and a blue pick-up truck rolls to collect them.

There has to be some way to fix this. After closing the tavern he retreats to his quarters, desktop illuminating his face as he fails to turn on any other light in his bedroom. He hunts for Jeremy’s Facebook, though right away he can tell it won’t bring him any luck. The last post was months ago, a captionless picture of he and Pyro with their arms slung around each other’s shoulders. They look happy.

He sends a you alright lad? text. Though, when he sees the timestamp reading 3:01 AM, he realizes that’s an auspicious statement. He lies in his bed and fails to go to sleep.

Whatever time the knocking starts is far too early. Having only gotten a total seven hours of sleep the past two days, he’d been planning to open the Keep late to recuperate, but another repetitive auditory signifier of modern home living has thrown that out the window. Speaking of windows. Tavish’s mood is not improved when he looks out the porthole and sees that the knocking is coming from a lone police officer at his stoop.

“Christ, what did they do now,” he murmurs.

Hair of the dog, he reminds himself. Hair of the dog. He pulls out a spare scrumpy bottle from underneath the bed.

“Not even at the right door, there’s a bloody sign- canae help you, officer?” Tavish yells out the true entrance. He’s still in his raccoon slippers (he’s known Jane for many Smismasses now), and he has no interest in going outside. If the idjit wants to ignore perfectly readable advisories, that’s his business.

The officer sticks his head around from the front. “Excuse me. Are you the owner here?”

Owner? Probably wouldn’t be asking if Pyro had gotten themself in trouble again. Keeping his general distaste for coppers out of his voice is easiest done with one word answers, so he says, “aye.”

“We’ve received complaints about an improperly parked vehicle on your premises. It appears someone is illegally habitating within it.”

Tavish feels habitating probably isn’t a word, but he’s already getting worked up. “Complaints? Is it that Classic Rock ‘n Roll bar down the street? Bloody goat-humpers. Those Classics have always had it out for me and my lads.”

Whether it’s the fact that Tavish burps halfway through his tirade or the volume of the denouncement, the officer looks quite pained. “We’ve had complaints from a variety of sources, sir.”

Tavish grumbles something about pain trains in station town, before the cop’s opening line finally catches up with him. “Someone’s living in a car in my parking lot?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“What in blazes-”

Slippers or no, Tavish charges into his rarely used back lot, usually traversed only by delivery trucks and the odd trash collector.

In it, is a camper van.

“Oi, open up!” He slams on the camper’s door. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are but if you’re going to squat at my house-” With the creaking of someone swaying the suspension with each footstep, the door opens. “-Then you- Mick?”

Mick Mundy does an adequate impression of Tavish a few minutes ago, and blinks groggily. “Yeah?”

“What are you doing in that thing?”

Mick looks behind him briefly. “Livin’ in it.”

“In my yard?”

The cop cuts in, “Sir you can’t take up residency, regardless of the nature of the vehicle, on businesses lining Main Street or Teufort’s six main thoroughfares."

“Really?” Mick asks. Tavish facepalms.

“ ‘Fraid so,” he continues, surprisingly straight-faced. “With the exclusion of national and state parks, parking an RV for more than 48 hours is similarly not allowed.”

“Hm,” Mick nods. “Guess I’ll go to one of those then. Is a camper van after all.”

Tavish facepalms with the other hand.

He can’t even bring himself to chew Mick out before he packs up his van and leaves. The incident with the traffic cop was hardly a good start to his morning, and it doesn’t improve with the opening of the Keep’s doors. He goes for the harder, close-to-paint-thinner stuff he keeps in the custodial closet just to stave off the mounting stress of dealing with law enforcement. Jeremy has texted him at some point in the night, a noncommittal assurance he’s fine. Tavish again asks if he wants to swing by the Keep tonight, to which he gets a yeah sure, whatever.

There’s little time to plan. Tavish has to make sure things go right this time, has to make sure Pyro stays long enough, has to get Jeremy to stay long enough, has to also find a way to get Jeremy to admit his feelings. Which, easier said than done. It depends entirely on whether he’s come to terms with things or not, and if he’s just shutting down and shutting everyone out it might not even be possible.

Too many variables. All these unknowns are killing him.

Jeremy didn’t say when he’d swing by and Tavish has finished off his good stuff. The candles are back, and Pyro’s mopily tending the kitchen, but-

Fuck. Someone’s vomited on the bathroom floor. He doesn’t have the heart to ask Pyro to do it, even with the wonderfully convenient rubber suit, not when he made them stay late yesterday for basically no reason. So instead he has Pyro take his place at the main bar and goes to face the music.

It smells awful. The bathroom’s décor is one of his prouder works; it’s all vintage advertisements, wallpapering not only the walls but the low, sloping ceiling as well. Normally it’s a pleasant little place to have a pit stop, but right now it’s just-

Eugh. Words don’t do it justice. It’s-

Guh-

Very difficult to breathe in. His head is starting to feel light and the mop keeps slipping out of his hands as the booze rises to his cheeks-

Tavish wakes up.

He is in his bed and the blinds are drawn and it seems like it could be anywhere in that ephemeral hour between the end of sunset and the beginning of sunrise. He can, after all, see and he can most certainly feel, and what he feels is pain.

“Ach, me head…”

The voice that says these words is coming from his head, the central locus for all his pain. It was a mistake to say them, for any reaffirmation of the self is overshadowed by the revelation that his throat is also worthy of commentary.

“Here.”

Jane is handing him a glass of water. The time to question is not now, because Tavish has never seen anything more beautiful than the glass he flimsily takes out of Jane’s hand. The cool rush of water does a little to ease the pain. His mind can wander now, to realize that he’s wearing the same pair of pants but a different shirt, and the only reason he can assume is that he threw up on himself. That or he landed in the other drunkard’s sick. He doesn’t want to think about the latter.

“I’m guessing that was a real bender I had just now?” he dares to ask once the water is gone.

“If by ‘just now’ you mean ‘last night’.” Jane’s mouth is a thin line, and Tavish groans. In an attempt to reassure, Jane adds, “we cleaned and closed the tavern up. You don’t need to worry about anything.”

Nothing but the loss of income from a night’s work, but even Tavish knows that’s too bitter to fling at the man who helped his sorry arse through a binge, especially when any outgoes are his own damn fault.

Memory does come crashing back to him though. “Damn it, urch, did- did Scout come in last night?”

“For a little.” Jane’s frown only deepens with this line of questioning. “He left with all the hubbub going on.”

“Damn it all,” Tavish groans. “I’m still trying to fix things with him and Pyro. If I can just get them in a room together-”

The feeble attempt to sit up is cut short, Jane moving the short distance to the bed and pushing until he falls back down. The firmness in his voice is unmistakable when he says, “this is not a nudge.”

“I…” But that’s all Tavsih can muster. He averts his gaze guiltily.

They’re still like that for a moment, frozen in the orange-tinted light that now more obviously asserts itself as dawn, Jane with one knee on the bed and Tavish knowing that he’s right.

“I just want everyone to be okay,” he admits finally. “That’s not so wrong, is it?”

Jane retracts his hand, but now won’t look at Tavish either. “I know you do. Dammit, it’s impossible not to know that you want to make everyone around you happy, with your smiles and your jokes and doing everything in your fucking power to light up the whole damn world. I know you want to solve all their fucking problems. But you need to remember to take care of yourself too.”

Tavish hesitates. He takes care of himself plenty, doesn’t he? At least as well as he always has; it’s not like this particular scenario of drinking himself to unconsciousness while on duty is all that unusual.

He doesn’t want to entertain that that’s exactly what Jane means.

“I will,” he says because it’s the path of least resistance. “But you can’t tell me this whole situation isn’t an issue.”

Jane growls, but acquiesces, “…I don’t like seeing Campfire all put out. It’s a bad look on them.”

“So I need to find out what’s up with Scout. If only to get my cook back from blues town,” Tavish reasons.

“Then why don’t you just talk to him,” Jane says, throwing up his hand. “Don’t bring Pyro into it at all! Damn it Tav you’re good at talking to people, it’s what you do all damn day. Just ask him what’s wrong.”

Again, Tavish hesitates. “Do you really think it’s that simple?”

Jane shrugs. “Could be. If anyone can make it simple it’s you. Not as evidenced by your actions today, private.”

Oh hell, now out come the privates. That’s Jane’s equivalent of a mum using your middle name when you’ve gone and done something dumb.

“Alright, I’ll try it.” He tries to sit, and is pushed back again.

“Not now,” Jane tells him. “Now you are going to catch up on sleep, and open the bar late. Am I understood?”

Tavish grumbles, but there’s no arguing with him. “Understood.”

He does feel monumentally better the next time he wakes up, though it’s nearing noon by the bedside clock. Jane’s gone, but he has several messages from Pyro asking if he’s alright, one from Dell who probably who heard from Pyro, and one from Pauling saying she’ll be dropping his cook off at six. Tavish rubs the bridge of his nose. As though he needed the extra guilt, somehow Pauling’s been roped into this as well. Poor lass has enough on her plate.

However, there’s one person Tavish needs to check in with more than anything.

Jeremy’s hoodie is uncharacteristically disheveled as he comes peering in through the front door, not the least because it’s still far too warm to be wearing such outerwear. He checks around each individual corner, making sure they’re as alone as it appears they are. Maybe he really is avoiding Pyro.

“Ey there lad, you’re looking glum,” Tavish greets when Jeremy finally slinks up to the bar.

“Mmm. Yeah.” He folds his arms and rests his chin on them.

Well, it’s better than yelling nothing’s wrong and running off into the night. Tavish slides a drink toward him. “Something new I’ve been working on. Tell me how you like it. Oh, I almost forgot.”

Next to the club soda he keeps several cans of room temperature Bonk!, which he saves when he knows Jeremy needs a pick-me-up. After pouring a toxic layer on the top of the drink, Tavish adds a crazy straw (the straws are technically Pyro’s, but Tavish knows which of the two of them enjoys them more.) Blithely, Jeremy eyes the concoction before him. Then he slides his whole body to meet the crazy straw and slurps.

“Hey, pretty good man,” he finally concludes, and to Tavish’s relief there’s a bit of warmth back in his voice.

“Glad to hear it.”

“Yeah it’s like…spicy. But not like hot spicy, more like uh…”

“It’s probably the ginger beer.”

“Oh yeah, yeah that’s it. The ginger.” With the termination of this statement, his thoughts catch up with again, and the contemplative half-smile is chased from his face. Instead, he lowers his gaze to the mahogany wood beneath his palms, and begins to trace patterns in the condensation rings.

“…Okay lad, you got tae tell me. What’s eating you?”

Jeremy flinches. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Nothing that…nothing that I want you to know about anyway.”

Tavish dries a glass. The squeaking of water on wood continues. He tries, “c’mon lad-”

“Stop,” Jeremy hisses. “Just stop with the lad crap. It’s. Freaking hell it’s too much to talk about all at once. And I can’t even think when you keep…”

“Just start at the beginning.”

“Okay, fine. You know what? Fine. So Pyro’s gay president or whatever and they finally get me to come to their stupid school club and…I meet people there. Lots of people, and it was kinda weird at first but then it got easier and this one girl started talking to me and it turned out she was really cool.”

“And you, what? Have a thing for her?”

In the fastest turnaround, Jeremy’s eyes narrow, staring daggers into the barkeep. “What the fuck man? Just because I make jokes sometimes doesn’t mean I’d actually ever step out. Jesus. I ain’t that kinda-” He makes a frustrated growl. “Anyway, don’t be an asshole, alright?”

“…I have to admit, you’ve lost me.”

“How could I have lost you? I started from the beginning like you said!”

“For one thing I thought this story was going to end with you realizing you have feelings for Pyro.”

To describe it as ‘incredulity’ would not be doing it justice. It was more like Jeremy had just walked into his home only to find that every single piece of furniture had been nailed to the ceiling and a group of cats were asking him what he was doing in their house.

With the cautiousness of a person who senses they’re being tricked, Jeremy says, “Pyro and I have been dating for six months.”

“I…what?”

“How did you not freaking know that?” Jeremy sounds as flabbergasted as Tavish feels. “You helped us move in together for crying out loud.”

“Move in to be roommates, I didn’t know it was a…” Tavish makes a vague gesture.

“We do all the couples shit, though. We’re always hanging out, and going to movies together, and I drive them to work, an’-” Ticking them off on his fingers, Jeremy stops abruptly, guilt wrinkling his features. He shoves his arms back against the bar and buries his face in them. “An’ I run out on them. And I’m an ass who yells at ‘em when they’re just trying to help.”

As delicately as he can, Tavish says, “I’m sorry lad. I guess I er…didn’t understand the situation as well as I thought. But hiding from me isn’t going to help either.”

“Psh. Ain’t you just proved you don’t know anything?”

There’s some mild indignation at that. “Well when Pyro takes you to meet their gay friends and you come back with an identity crisis, what am I supposed to think?”

Jeremy grits his teeth. “It’s not a sexuality thing.”

“Then what the bloody hell else could it…”

When Jeremy looks up, there is jaggedness, laced by the angry tears that are pricking at the corner of his eyes, and once again Tavish realizes what colossal idiot he’s being.

“Oh,” he says. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

There are many sounds Tavish has grown used to when tending the Keep all alone: the tick of the clock, the water heater jumping to life every now and again, the various strung-up seashells that rattle sometimes even though there’s no draft. Now, midday light filtering through the frosted windows, he hears a drip where the kitchen tap hasn’t been turned all the way, and the scrunch of Jeremy running his hands fruitlessly through his hair.

Tavish throws aside the rag he was using to clean, and makes the long walk around to the other side of the bar. He slides a stool closer, wraps an arm around Jeremy’s shoulders, and squeezes them together.

They don’t shake. Or if they do, it’s with frustration.

“Freaking…” Jeremy croaks eventually. “Freaking unbelievable. Like I can’t be, for fuck’s sake. You’ve met me. I can’t be, you know. That.”

Tavish does not want to upset this, not when the walls are just starting to come down. Gently, he asks, “and why can’t you be?”

“Because everyone would freak!” Jeremy lurches to a sitting position. “Everyone I know, all my classmates, my family, the guys on the team…oh fuck.” He groans and rubs his face. “I didn’t even think about that. I…I can’t get kicked off the team. I’d lose my scholarship, and my grades are slipping and Ma already threatened to sick my dad on me if they didn’t pick back up and-”

“Hey, hey calm down…mate,” Tavish is quickly realizing dropping haphazard lads into this conversation hasn’t been helping. He squeezes a little tighter. “That’s all a bunch o’ maybes right now. Don’t think that far ahead. Just breathe.”

Jeremy does, out slower but shaky. “I can’t. I can’t not think about it. The more I think and the less I’m sure and…would they even let me play on the girls’ team? Ah Christ.”

His hood has come down at some point in the panic. And his face may never have gotten to the point of true tears, but his eyes are still red. Still furious.

Tavish squeezes him tighter, and to his surprise, Jeremy hugs him back, snapping on like a barnacle. “I’m usually better at not thinking about whatever I don’t want to think about. Shit, what’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing’s wrong with you mate. You can work through this. You got lots of people who want to help.”

Jeremy draws in a breath. “…Yeah.”

“Why are you avoiding Pyro?” Tavish asks. “I don’t mean to be cold, but all things considered they’d have much more insight into a gender crisis than I would.”

“That’s…that’s the problem. Shit.” Jeremy draws back, retreating again to guilt and a focus on the tavern floor. “This…this is going to make me sound like a huge asshole okay but, when they first came out to me I wasn’t…I’ve been a real shithead at some points in my life, you know? Not always this cool and awesome ally and stuff. When that was first going on I said something like ‘haha me too’ and then like…fuck I don’t know. Made an attack helicopter joke or whatever.”

“Attack…helicopter?”

“Never mind,” Jeremy waves him off. “Anyway when all this started I didn’t want them to think I was…making fun of them again. Somehow. Or just playing around.”

There’s a beat. When it’s clear that he isn’t going to continue, Tavish says, “no offense mate, but that’s total malarkey.”

Jeremy grimaces.

“You’ve been friends for how long? And you’ve changed a lot in that time, they know you’re not that person anymore. If you talk to them, really talk to them instead of pushing them out, they’re not going to abandon you during something this serious.”

“I know, you’re right, I know.” Rubbing his face, Jeremy finally straightens his shoulders. “I was just scared. Not that I’m scared now or nothin’!”

At the return of the more familiar bravado, Tavish chuckles. “O’ course. The Scout I know isn’t afraid o’ anything. If I were from where you’re from I’d be dead, ‘n all that rot.”

“That’s right.” A bit of a smile passes across Jeremy’s face. Then it twitches, spinning more contemplative. “And…as long as we’re saying things about being Scout…uh. Just um. Just don’t call me Jeremy right now. I’m still like figuring things out, but since you guys always call me Scout anyways…”

“Can do. Anything else I should keep in mind?”

“I…no. Not yet. If that changes I’ll let you know. But you can spread that first thing around, tell the other guys and stuff. I’m sure they’ll…”

Tavish claps a hand to his shoulder. “I’m sure they’ll understand,” he finishes the thought.

Scout smiles, and Tavish makes him promise to go talk to his partner before they start moving on to burning whole restaurants.

#tf2 fanfiction #pyroscout #flashfire

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navyhyuck · 3 years

Text

t: this is the story of how we fell in love, apparently.

pairing | lee donghyuck x reader (female)

genre | fluff, humor, youtuber!au, roommates!au, friends-to-lovers!au

synopsis | running a youtube channel with your best friend isn’t easy, not when he’s like a ticking time bomb that’s constantly bubbling up something new. what’s worse is that you’ve had a crush on him for the past three years.

warnings (not all included in teaser) | swearing, suggestive, sexual innuendos/jokes, a few descriptions of food, mentions of covid-19 and quarantine, some personal negativity

projected word count | 13k+ (teaser: 2k)

expected release date | 6 june 2021 est (linked here)

taglist | @ukiyoneo @sicluvz @thiccseokmin @lanadreamie @hyuckefi @kravitee @tenderfrailty @choerriesmotion @theskzvibe @jaeshark

notes from vee | hi, welcome to my blog and thanks for taking the time to read this post at that. i’ve finished one of the most important exams i’ve ever taken in my life and i decided, why not celebrate that ending by releasing a teaser to a fic i’ve been dying to share? this is one entire snippet of the fic in entirety and it may or may not be mildly inspired (read: absolutely 100% inspired) by the way brooke (@lebrookestore) and i dm each other. also!!! just a brief introduction that this entire fic takes place during the corona age! meaning there are mentions of masks and covid and etc., no character gets it but just a psa for mentions! also, i did mention that hyuck and y/n are roommates, but they also live with mark and jaemin in this fic! :) anyway, please enjoy and let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

iii. we bought matching leather jackets!

“Hello and welcome back to doing dumb shit with Y/N and Haechan!” You announce cheerily as you press down on the record button, settling the camera in front of your seat to capture Donghyuck in the driver’s seat as well. He looks half wasted—if that was even possible—with his hair absolutely tousled and his lips just a bit swollen from earlier sleep, but he waves to the device at your voice. At the sight of him, you reach over to fix his hair, patting his head softly as you finish.

He watches you with parted lips as you take charge with the usual introduction, clapping your hands in excitement as you urge everyone to subscribe to the channel. Your eyes seem to shine more than usual—perhaps because today’s video was 100% your idea, not his, Renjun’s, or even Mark’s—with the light reflecting from them making it very easy for him to grow addicted to your look. Your look? You weren’t wearing anything grand, just a hoodie and sweatpants to keep you warm, but it appears like much more against your skin.

“—and well, Mark and I used to come here a lot around like junior year in uni, so I thought I’d visit by again.” You continue on, glancing over at your friend as he hurls back into reality. “Plus I convinced Haechan to come with me so we could pick out something together. You know, like a couple sort of thing? But for best friends.”

Your smile radiates when you face him, and he nearly loses his breath. Best friendship charms were a thing of a past—maybe perhaps expressed through matching ice cream necklaces that spell out ‘BFF’ in mellow yellow and bright pink, or small custom-made keychains that have names written in cursive hearts—something that children in elementary school treasured for years. Donghyuck doesn’t remember ever having matching blue neckties with Mark Lee, or matching knitted socks with Huang Renjun, but he also doesn’t resist when you explain your plan for the day. If anything, he’d love to match with you.

“Most of the clothing here is handmade and really good quality too. I think the jacket I bought for Jun as a gift like two years ago is still in pretty good shape.” You explain, gesturing towards the shop entrance as if the device was pointing that way. “Anyway! I’ll link the store’s website in the description below as well as Renjun’s channel! You guys should definitely check—”

Your heart gives away as Donghyuck reaches an arm over your shoulders, quietly resting his hand on your arm before squeezing it gently in acknowledgment. He shoots you a questioning look as you stumble over your words, raising an eyebrow as if to ask ‘what’s wrong?’ You only shake your head in return, trying to calm down the intense beats, and proceed.

“Uh,” you smile lightly, having forgotten what you were going on about. “Well, yeah! Let’s go now!”

The interior of the store smells strongly of cologne when you immediately enter—and it throws you off for a bit—making you hum at the scent. The scent is almost addictive in a way that makes you want to enter the shop further and explore everything it has in store for you. Donghyuck notices your reaction, chuckling under his breath before snatching the camera from your hands.

“It smells like good cologne in here,” he mentions, keeping his voice low in respect to the non-existent other customers. “And you guys already know Y/N gets addicted to that shit, right? Yeah, she’d marry anything that wears cologne.”

“Stop overreacting,” you say, curling your fingers into his shirt and tugging him towards a specific section of the store. His eyes fall upon racks filled with dark colored leather jackets, varying from black to blue to red. Turning the camera towards you, he follows you as you stroll down the aisle in intrigue.

After a few more steps, you turn around abruptly to face your best friend, holding out your hands. Even though the dark mask covers your excited expression, he can still imagine you glowing in his head.

“Hyuck. We should get matching leather jackets.”

He can’t even crack a joke at your words—not when he gets lost in your waiting eyes—only responding with a breathy chuckle and slow nod. You shoot him a thumbs up before whirling towards the clothing again; gesturing him over, you get to work on your choosing magic for the day.

“So guys,” you start when Donghyuck’s settling to camera close enough, “first rule of thumb is you have to find a color or pattern that looks the best on you.”

“Not what you like best.” Donghyuck finishes for you, making you award him with a pat to his hand.

“Second is—well, at least for me considering I always like making my clothing comfortable—make sure you choose the right size in the color you look best in. Don’t settle for anything less, even if you think you ‘might like it’ in the future. Because most likely—” you lean into the device, focusing your eyes on Donghyuck, “—if you don’t like it now, you won’t fall in love with it later.”

“Are you sure?” He interrupts just as you take a breather, and you send him a look of confusion. “There’s probably several people that probably ended up liking their bad decision, like, years later. I mean, you definitely thought that about me.”

You pause momentarily, taking a while to actually process whatever information he’s attempting to currently throw at you. Though Donghyuck could be a handful from time to time (read: all the time), you don’t necessarily consider him a bad decision in any way; you remember receiving comments from the early days of your channel from fans who enjoyed expressing far too much by saying your best friend is a burden. It angered you then, and it would still anger you now.

“I’ve always liked you,” you narrow your eyes, missing the way he blanks out. “Bad decision? You’re a person, not a piece of clothing. I wouldn’t suddenly stop loving you.”

The words spill out before you can even filter them out, and it increases your heart rate in the slight. Pretending to be normal about it, you look back towards the jackets on the rack, examining one with absolutely nothing about leather jackets on your mind. You may have crossed some invisible line by saying—only indirectly—that you love him, but you pray Donghyuck doesn’t notice. When you catch a glimpse of the device in his hands, however, you know someone else well.

Instead of pondering on the thought, you manage to refocus on where you are and what you’re here for. You couldn’t have a mental breakdown over your best friend (and crush, though you’d like to forget that you’re falling into that hole) in the middle of a handmade quality goods shop that included only one employee watching the two of you at the front desk; it would draw more than just a little attention. Although the miniature confession of love seems to do something, as Donghyuck loops his arms into yours as you continue on your search journey. You’d by lying to say you didn’t enjoy it.

“Look at this one,” he stops the two of you and passes the camera into your hands. You set it up to film him pulling down a specific jacket, finished with gray flowers embroidered on the front flap and pins with various meanings attached to the chest. Donghyuck rubs a finger over a specific one that reads ‘babygirl’ and chuckles; he hands it over to you, pulling the device into his hands again. “Try it on.”

“Oh, it’s for me?” You ask, running your hand over the cool material. “I thought you were choosing for yourself.”

He waves you off. “Just put it on.”

You pull off your hoodie first, throwing it to the other boy before pulling the jacket over your arms and flattening it down to your stomach. The mirror reflects you back—and you nearly cringe—showing you in all your leather glory. “God, I forgot how stupid I look in leather.”

“What?” Donghyuck hands you back your hoodie as you take the jacket off, scrunching his eyebrows to add effect. “You look good, stupid. No, no, no, you’re getting it.”

“Haechan.” You yank out the professional name, which makes him stutter. “It’s fine, I’ll just get another one that’s not super crazy or anything. Just black is enough, any embroidery is gonna make me look dumb.”

He huffs, snatching it from your hands and turning the camera towards him. Although his smile isn’t visible, his eyes scrunch up as he holds the fabric up to the lens. “Anyway, I’m buying this for her. She’ll wear it pretty much like everything I’ve ever bought her, but she actually looks really good with this on. You know what, comment down below if you think Y/N looks hot with this jacket on.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes dramatically for effect before shrugging. It would be his burden of cost after all.

“And Jaem,” he adds as soon as you walk out of hearing distance, “don’t edit that out, no matter what she says.”

You end up choosing your friend’s leather jacket as well, settling with a deep black color that you believe matches his hair. It isn’t too fancy, but the various movie themed pins definitely aided in your choice. The one that hits your eye first is the Ghostbusters pin on the flap of the collar; perhaps it may be the reason you hand it to him in the first place. Donghyuck likes it better than you do, from your perspective, which makes you smile further.

In all honesty, you think he looks great. Actually, great might be an understatement from the way you refuse to rip your eyes away from his figure as he checks himself out in the mirror. You try to see past what you’ve gotten yourself into, but your mind doesn’t let you, only making you bask in all the glory that your best friend offers in front of me.

Donghyuck is good looking; he’s more attractive than you’d like to admit, though the way he catches your gaze signals to him that you don’t need to reply with words. Your looks are enough to give it away.

“Like it?” He asks you, unable to contain the smirk that plasters on his face. It goes unnoticed to you, of course, being unable to see it, but you nod immediately. “You can film me now.”

“Oh-oh, right,” you fumble not so gracefully with the camera, hiding the way your cheeks flush in embarrassment, and position it to capture him spinning around on his heel. You find out that staring at him through the small camera screen seems to work as a better excuse for getting caught up in the beats of your own heart. He tops it off with finger guns accompanied by sound effect before chuckling under his breath.

“What do you think, Y/N? Does it look good on me?”

You nod again, slower than earlier. He seems to be the opposite from you, completely in love with his entire look of a plain T-shirt you’re sure he stole from Jeno and denim pants of a dark gray topped off with the fresh leather jacket, but you can’t blame him for his pride. He looks damn good in leather, in one way or another.

“You look good in leather,” you comment truthfully, keeping your voice as steady as you can. Gulping, you hope he (or the camera, for that matter, including over a million of your viewers) can’t hear the mask of instability behind it. Were you really about to fall into thousands of pieces in a shop because of Lee Donghyuck? Maybe. But you don’t want it to be known to the world.

He laughs again, approaching you and snatching the camera from your hands. Maneuvering it to film the two of you, an arm snakes around your shoulders, pulling you closer to the boy. “Can you see how flustered she is? Yeah, that’s what someone like me will do to you. Care to explain why, sweetheart?”

Every ounce of attractiveness that you deemed to Donghyuck drops. “Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me. Who are you, Jaemin?”

He gives you an incredulous look. “Is Jaemin only allowed to give you pet names? I can’t?”

“They’re not pet names,” you attempt to shuffle away from under his arm, but he fastens an arm around your waist instead, yanking you back. It startles you, but the hand you press to your best friend’s chest in order to stabilize yourself catches his attention too. “He’s just a very…endearing individual, and c’mon, he likes to express his love like that.”

“And why can I not?”

You pause, taking a moment to turn towards the boy himself. He’s already looking at you, however, inching closer to move his face impossibly closer to yours. The breath that you inhale stays there, unable to leave your lungs as you begin to feel the pounding of your heart increase. His addicting scent sends you reeling backwards as he giggles, and you scoff in mock annoyance.

“You’re a nuisance, Lee,” you murmur under your breath, now trying to get the view of his eyes gazing into yours out of your head. It’s hard, knowing that if the two of you weren’t wearing masks, your lips would be only minute spaces away. Whining, he latches an arm through yours. “No pet names for you, get off.”

“Come on, please? Last time I checked, you run a channel with me, not Jaemin. I deserve to name you something endearing too, for example, my microwaved marinara sauce. Or even better, my delightful half eaten chicken wing. Or—”

“They’re supposed to be cute,” you whisper, barely realizing your words were heard by Donghyuck. He considers it momentarily, halting his list of ridiculous names to call you by to remove his arm. Instead, he nonchalantly slips his hand into yours, intertwining his fingers enough to have you hitching your breath. The movement is far more intimate that you’d allow yourself to admit, so you hold his hand back.

“How about ‘my love’ then?” He asks, quietly, watching for your reaction. You don’t respond immediately, needing to address your heart rate once again. If he goes any further, you might have to ask him to drive you to the emergency room. “Well everyone, considering she didn’t complain to that, that’s her designated pet name now. It trumps Jaemin right? Shall I try it out?”

Grumbling, your attempt to pull away from your best friend goes into the air as he holds your hand tighter and leans in close, brushing his mask right across the covered side of your cheek.

“How about I pay for you, my love?”

hi there! in case you didn’t know, this fic has been released! it’s linked here! :)

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chosonore · 3 years

Text

part one | calmness

calmness [noun. the state or quality of being free from agitation or strong emotion]

pairing: kamo choso/f!reader

summary: falling in love with choso was a gradual and slow process, creeping up on you so inconspicuously that you don’t realize until the feelings hit full force. he’s become a constant in your life, your sun, your home. but does he return the feelings?

wordcount: 8k

content/warnings: roommates au, friends to lovers, fluff, slice of life, mentions of alcohol, language, some pining but not really, the amount of oblivious reader and choso will kill you, slow burn, characters are aged up if not already obvious, lowercase intended, [UNEDITED]

a/n: [hello this is a re-post because my blog was banned for a few days! so if you’ve seen it before, i’ve had to delete it i am so sorry if you’ve saved it. but it’s here to stay now!] here it is, the long awaited roommate!choso series wehfuhuehw if you’ve lurked around on my blog before, you would’ve seen the little drabbles i’ve sent suki a while back. this idea has been floating around in my head for so long and there isn’t really a lot of plot to it, it’s really just a really long slice of life thing. wanted to explore falling in love with choso, i just... love him a lot ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ i’ve spent a lot of time thinking about how he would be in situations like this and i hope you enjoy!

masterlist - next

you were pretty sure that you’d scared all the costumers away with your constant sighing – even yuuji was looking at you concerned now although you’d told him that you were fine hours prior. the entire apartment hunting issue was now getting to you; a few months prior, your landlord had announced that he would be selling the apartment, leaving you with no other option than to find a new apartment. but rent was astronomically high and you were already struggling as is. even finding roommates was proven to be a difficult feat, you weren’t sure why but you kept attracting weird people and now two weeks before the moving out date, you still didn’t have a place to stay. worst case scenario, you’d have to rent a storage space and crash at your friend’s place.

“y/n, are you okay? you look… very stressed,” yuuji asked gingerly, after he’d closed the store and helped you clean up the cash register area. “uh if it helps, you can vent to me! we’re friends right? so what’s bothering you?”

you were hesitant. sure, despite not knowing him so well since he’s only been working at the store for a month or two now, you would consider the two of you friends. but you felt bad just dumping the entirety of your worries onto him. so you opted to tell him the… short truth.

“ah it’s just- i’ve been looking for a place to stay because, essentially, i’m getting kicked out of my place but it’s been pretty unsuccessful,” you sighed, scrubbing at the counter more vigorously now. “i need to move out in two weeks but i haven’t found a place yet and the people looking for roommates just seem to be people who would drive me insane.”

“oh really?” yuuji sounded hopeful- wait, why did he sound hopeful? “my older brother is looking for a new roommate! his former roommate recently moved in with his boyfriend so the room is vacant right now. if you want, i could arrange a date for you to look at the apartment and meet him? i promise my brother isn’t weird or anything, he’s pretty diligent with chores and is always up to hang out.”

your jaw dropped; yuuji was your lifesaver. he was incredibly friendly and polite, always helping others and looking out for everyone. you were overwhelmed with joy and relief, maybe you were naïve and too hast in trusting his words but his brother had to be similar to him, you couldn’t imagine them being polar opposites. it couldn’t be that bad and at this point, you were desperate. “i would love that! when are you guys free?”

“ah we could actually head over to his place after clocking out,” yuuji put the boxes and pens back into place before ushering you to the staff room and turning the lights off. “he’s been home quite early lately, so i can just let him now right now if you’re free?”

you nodded in agreement, almost too eagerly, as you threw your jacket on and grabbed your bag, waiting for yuuji outside of the store. it was already dark outside and you almost felt bad for taking up his time like this but he had offered after all. yuuji was furiously texting as he stepped out of the building, screen lighting up his face in a comical way. in the dim light of the street lamps, you clumsily fumbled with the keys before finally being able to lock the door.

“you’re in luck, he’s home right now!” yuuji announced, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his red sweater. “said it’s okay if we drop by real quick.”

you hummed in thought, matching yuuji’s pace as you walked across the street. “does he live far away from here?”

“nope, it’s basically around the corner.”

thankfully, the apartment was within walking distance so you had a slow stroll while talking about work, friends and uni. although you shared the same friend circle, it was almost impossible to have both of you in the same room – yuuji was often busy with club activities while you were constantly studying or working. it wasn’t until he started working at the store that you finally got to know each other, immediately getting along much to your friends’ relief. he had never talked about his older brother before so you were surprised that he had siblings at all. but he sounded genuine when he said that his brother was cool so you didn’t think much of it.

“okay so this is the place,” yuuji stopped in front of a building, pressing the doorbell. “please don’t be too intimidated when you meet choso, he looks unfriendly and unamused sometimes but that’s just his face.”

turning around, you took a closer look at your surroundings. it was an apartment building that looked rather cozy, surrounded by tall, expanding trees. to your relief, it wasn’t a sketchy neighbourhood - you’d always felt wary about walking home by yourself after a late shift. in the distance, you could see a playground and screaming, laughing children. it was harmonious and peaceful, easing your soul and initial doubts.

“oh okay,” you bit your lip in nervousness as the buzzer went off, following yuuji into the building. the closer you got to the apartment, the squirmier you got, anxious about meeting his older brother. the door was already left ajar so you could enter, the smell of food wafting out of the apartment to the hallway. you peeked inside before entering, immediately feeling more at ease upon seeing that the apartment was organized and clean. coats and jackets hung up on the coatrack, shoes lined up neatly along the wall. several photos were stuck to the wall - one of a younger chubby-cheeked yuuji, one of what looked like a garden party, another one of a happily smiling group of people. your heart was warming up; yuuji’s brother seemed like a rather attentive person who appreciated his surroundings and close friends and family.

“choso! did you make dinner for me?” yuuji called out as he kicked off his shoes and stormed inside before you could stop him, leaving you to your own devices as you awkwardly stood in the hallway of the apartment after closing the door. you took your shoes off slowly, stalling as much time as possible. should you just wait for yuuji to come back? or should you come in and greet them with the same energy that yuuji just exuded? but then his brother might think that you were weird and reject you straight away. you froze when a deeper voice rang out.

��didn’t you say you’d bring a friend? where are they?”

you hastily took off your shoes and tiptoed deeper into the apartment, hiding behind yuuji as you looked at the taller man in front of him. his brother looked at you curiously, placing the cooking utensils he was holding onto the counter. so yuuji and him did look like polar opposites. yuuji, for the lack of better terms, looked like a soft peach while the man in front of you had tied his dark, long hair in twin tails and was sporting a huge white shirt with sweatpants but perhaps the most striking thing about him was the face tattoo. you hadn’t expected that at all. he spiked your interest, you couldn’t deny that he was attractive. you had to snap out of it, this was your potential future roommate and you did not need to have any further thoughts. not of that kind.

“hi,” you greeted quietly and held your hand out for him to shake. “i’m y/n, nice to meet you.”

“choso.” he shook your hand, giving you an approving nod.

maybe you stared at his hand a little too obviously, admiring his long fingers, his nicely shaped fingernails and the veins on his hand. yuuji cleared his voice, slightly elbowing you in the side. you gasped in embarrassment, jerking your hand from his and hiding it behind your back. choso didn’t seem like he had caught onto your staring. and if he did, he had enough mercy to not bring it up.

“let me show you your room first,” choso explained unfazed, patiently waiting until you followed him. he walked across the living room, pointing to the side. while yes, he was attractive and seemed to be an enjoyable person to be around with, you couldn’t shake the wariness in your bones. choso switched on the lights, letting you step into the room first. it was empty for the most part, aside from a few boxes that were neatly stacked and placed in the corner. the room had a comfortable size, big enough to fit everything that you owned but not too big so that you’d feel uncomfortable with the empty spaces.

“sorry about the boxes,” choso apologized, turning to you. “i’ve been storing some of the stuff from our studio here, since i sometimes work from home and it was more convenient to have it here instead of my room.”

“i see…” you nodded, trying your best not to peek at the contents of the box. “if you don’t mind me asking, what do you work as?”

“some of my friends and me, we’ve opened a tattoo and piercing studio earlier this year. i only do tattoos though, some of the others do piercings additionally,” he explained to you, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. your mouth fell open, making you look like a fish. you couldn’t hide your excitement, eyes gleaming like you’d just discovered the biggest treasure you’ve ever seen.

“really? that’s so cool! yuuji never told me you were a tattooist, i would love to see your works someday,” you grinned from ear to ear while choso looked away from you, not being able to handle the praise. although he appreciated the sentiment, he didn’t know how to respond to compliments - the feeling was foreign to him.

"yeah, sure," choso replied with a strained voice. in the dim light, no one would be able to make out how the tips of his ears reddened and choso was thankful for that. he cleared his voice, slowly trudging outside of the room to show you the rest of his apartment.

when yuuji had mentioned that he’d found a potential roommate for choso, he didn’t tell anything else. choso didn’t expect it to be yuuji’s co-worker, much less someone whose energy was so bright and happy unlike his gloomy self. he briefly wondered whether you were okay with living here - even if you were desperate to find an apartment, surely you'd at least want someone who was… more open and less intimidating than him.

you trailed behind his broad frame, carefully taking in the entirety of the apartment. it seemed like there was nothing to worry about. even though you've only known him for a few minutes, you felt at ease with him and that gave you a better feeling about moving in with him. yuuji was innocently sitting on the couch, spooning the soup choso had prepared earlier while watching tv. his eyes followed the pair, relieved that there was less awkwardness than he anticipated but slightly suspicious because… there was something.

as choso showed you the rest of the apartment - kitchen, living room and bathroom - he comprehensively explained expenses and house rules to you. there weren't many rules to begin with; choso simply disliked clutter and expected everything to be put back to its original place after use, being noisy was a no-go as well. everything in between was negotiable. by the end of the apartment tour, you joined yuuji in the living room. he shot you a questioning look, raising his eyebrow in curiosity. you were certain that you'd take the offer. there was no way this opportunity would go to waste.

"thank you for showing me around, choso," you smiled at him gratefully. "if you're okay with me moving in, i'd love to become your roommate. i think we'll get along well."

the last box was haphazardly tossed in the corner of your room, earning you a disapproving glare from choso. exhausted, you flopped on the bed and spread across it like a starfish. choso placed the remaining boxes on the floor. moving day was, despite choso coming to your rescue, utterly chaotic and tiring. your muscles were aching from overexertion and there was no remaining energy or nerve for you to attend to unpacking. you felt like a jellylike mass.

"i'll cook something for us. do you have any preferences or dislikes?"

you lifted your head slightly to peek at choso who was standing in the doorway, on his way out. “you’ll cook for me? what are you, an angel?”

choso didn’t reply, simply stared at you. he was used to such antics - it reminded him of his childhood when he was still living with yuuji and taking care of him. lethargically, you shook your head and planted your face back in the pillow. "no, i'm okay with anything. will inhale anything as long as it's edible," though your voice was muffled, choso understood you nonetheless. he made a confused, albeit affirmative noise before disappearing. a long exhale left your lips. truthfully, you were lucky to have an amazing roommate like choso. even though you didn't know each other well and he wasn't very talkative, he was very much willing to help. with time, you were sure he would warm up to you and become great friends. your eyes were slowly drooping, the exhaustion settling in your bones. within minutes, you dozed off into a deep, comfortable slumber. you didn't wake until a knock roused you out of your sleep, startling you in the process.

"huh? yeah?" you scrambled hastily, trying to fix the bird's nest that was your hair. choso did not need to see you in this state - delirious from being woken up from your deep slumber, feeling as if you'd woken up in a new century and with imprints of your pillows and blanket on your skin. before you could make yourself presentable, choso had already opened the door and stared at you unabashedly.

you blinked dumbfounded, staring back at him.

“food’s ready. you coming?” choso gave you a questioning look, waiting for a reaction. so apparently, he did not care what you looked like after waking up. he didn’t even bat an eyelid at your messy state, unfazed by it.

“uh yeah, give me a minute,” you replied after a few moments passed, sitting up tiredly. choso nodded before closing the door behind him as he returned to the kitchen. grabbing yourself a fluffy blanket, you wrapped it around yourself and waddled outside. whatever he had prepared, it smelled divine. you hummed in content as you took a seat at the dining table. the table was already set, dishes still steaming and looking so inviting that you had to stop yourself from drooling. choso padded to the table, placing some drinks on the table before taking a seat as well. as he described the dishes he'd cooked for the two of you, you inconspicuously looked him up and down. this time, without yuuji catching wind of it.

you knew choso was tall and very broad but you only realized the full extent of it seeing how the chair seemed tiny in comparison to his frame. his hair was down for a change, falling just above his shoulders. as usual, he was wearing comfortable clothes; a big shirt, big enough that you could admire his arm muscles and hands every time the sleeves moved. not only was he attractive, he was incredibly attentive and helpful as well, not expecting anything in return.

"thank you for cooking, i really appreciate it. looks really good," you complimented choso, taking a bite from the dish. you hummed delighted, wiggling in your seat happily. "oh my god, this is so delicious! where did you learn cooking like this?"

"i used to cook for yuuji and myself a lot."

"i wanna return the favour too but now i kind of feel inadequate," you joked lightly, smiling at him sheepishly. while you weren't the worst cook, you weren't outstandingly great either. choso however, was probably the best cook you knew.

"i don't mind. as long as you do your best, it's the thought that counts."

you nodded in agreement, taking a sip from your drink. silence fell over you; a comfortable silence however, both of you just enjoying the food. you supposed it wasn't too bad if you took your time getting to know each other - after all, choso seemed like someone who would quickly recoil if cornered. it wasn't too much of a concern.

after finishing the meal, you helped him clean up and wash the dishes. nudging him gently, you asked: "do you want to watch some movies after? yuuji recommended me a few that i have yet to check out."

choso took the plates, drying them with the towel before placing them back to their designated spots. "sure, you're responsible for the movie selection then."

spending time with choso was easy, almost too easy. you were glad that the two of you were off to a good start, he didn't seem to mind your company and you enjoyed his. cheerfully, you put the movie on, snuggling the blanket that was wrapped around you. the way you were laying on the couch was reminding choso of a little burrito. unbeknownst to him, the corner of his lips lifted a little at the sight. he waited until you noticed him and shuffled a little so he could sit on the couch as well. the movie you had chosen was a lighthearted comedy, one that yuuji had highly praised and recommended you watch first.

midway through the movies, the exhaustion was creeping up on you, making you feel heavy and sleepy until you slumped against choso's side. he glanced to the side, observing you to see whether you would wake up. soft and steady breaths left your lips, already asleep within seconds. choso pondered whether to wake you now, worrying that you would miss out on the movie that you were so eager to watch. you looked so peaceful that he felt bad, deciding to wake you once the movie was over. but even choso couldn't shake the tiredness, gradually slumping against you until sleep overtook him as well.

as the sun was rising, light was flooding the apartment, filling it with warmth. you scrunched your eyebrows at the brightness, attempting to move so it wouldn't blind you. the first thing you noticed was your strained neck - probably because of the weird position you had slept in - and the second thing was that something heavy was laying on your lap. blinking in confusion, you peeked, groaning inwardly at the blinding light. black hair was splayed across your lap, connecting to… choso? oh no. oh no. you must've fallen asleep while watching the movie and judging how choso was comfortably using your lap as a pillow, he did as well. embarrassment spread throughout your body; this wasn't supposed to happen, much less with someone you didn't know so well.

now that you were unintentionally watching him, you felt creepy. the situation was too perplexing to you - should you wake him now? or just wait… until he woke up? but what if you had to pee. what if choso wasn’t going to wake up until a few hours later? what if he woke up and saw you staring at him like a creep? though you did think he looked vulnerable and peaceful in this state, unusual from his intimidating, unwavering self. it made your heart tingle with an unknown feeling, softly bubbling with curiosity.

beneath you, choso was moving slightly, shuffling around until he felt comfortable. you stayed still, tensely watching his next movements. he remained still for a while, making you exhale in relief. until he didn’t. choso blinked a few times, trying to make sense of his surroundings until his gaze fell onto yours. and you stared back, frozen in fear. even if he was the one laying on your lap, you felt anxious.

“uh i… we must’ve fallen asleep last night, ha ha…”

“you fell asleep early on and i was going to wake you after the movie ended but fell asleep myself, i’m sorry for making you feel uncomfortable,” choso apologized sincerely and sat up right away, rubbing his eyes sleepily. even though he looked rather deadpan, there was a trace of embarrassment on his face.

“oh no, it’s okay! we both fell asleep after all… ah, since we’re roommates, we’re sort of friends now, right? so don’t mind it too much, it happens!” you gave choso a reassuring smile, showing him that there was no bad blood between you.

choso nodded slowly. “i guess so. i’m glad you don’t mind. "

an awkward pause.

"do you have classes anytime soon? i can make breakfast for us.”

and just like that, the tension between you was alleviated. not completely gone, but barely noticeable. choso stretched like a cat, yawning quietly before he got up. you couldn't help but glance at his toned stomach, eyes almost bulging at the sight. turning to the side, you hid your face and cleared your voice. "i don't have classes today but i have to go to work later. so i won't say no to breakfast if you're making it."

"how's living with choso?" yuuji questioned you curiously, leaning against the counter. lowering the pen and writing board you were holding, you hummed in thought. in the past few weeks, the two of you had settled into a comfortable routine. there were minor hiccups here and there but the issues were easily resolved - somehow, you silently understood each other, an important foundation for a good friendship.

"pretty relaxing, to be honest. he's a good roommate and friend," you replied, clicking with the pen which earned you an annoying glance from yuuji. "you should've told me he was a great cook! i don't think i've ever tasted any dishes that were as good as his."

"he cooks for you?" the surprised tone in yuuji's voice startled you. was that out of the ordinary? you just thought he was being a good friend when he prepared dinner for you whenever you had a late shift.

"uh yeah? mostly when i come home late or when we have movie nights together. i always tell him that i can definitely help but he insists that he's fine doing it himself."

"i see. choso just doesn't like people messing with his cooking routine, that's all. i'm not even allowed near the kitchen, even though i'm not that bad of a cook either," yuuji laughed, scratching his head sheepishly. he wasn't going to tell you why he was perplexed by the fact that choso willingly cooked for you. it was too early to make any assumptions; he just couldn't shake the feeling that there was something at play. no one knew his brother better than him - choso would never do any favours for persons he didn't care about, persons that weren't family or extremely close friends. while they had talked about choso's thoughts about you, he never mentioned anything more than getting along well and often spending time together. for choso's standards, you were a quite close friend.

"oh, and here i was, thinking that he must really hate my cooking skills. so it's just that," you concluded, grinning happily. he was weirdly persistent about it but knowing this detail about him, you'd stop pestering him in the future. "hey do you wanna come over tomorrow? it's movie night again, i'm sure you'd enjoy it too."

"hmm, sounds tempting. if you can convince choso to cook, i'm in."

"pff, who would say no to this face," you retorted mischievously, showing yuuji the best puppy face you could muster up. he groaned, pushing you gently.

"show off," he told you jokingly and rolled his eyes. "i don't know how choso tolerates you."

"you're just jealous, huh? didn't think you had that emotion in you. choso and me are the bestest of friends, of course we get along well," you stuck your tongue out at yuuji before leaving him to his own devices as you bolted to the cash register to help a customer. as you animatedly conversed with them, yuuji shook his head. it was obvious that there was some attraction but that was something he'd let you figure out. cupid wasn't a well-fitting job for him. friends, my ass.

"huh, did you say something, yuuji?"

"no, not at all."

soft, melodious music was playing in the background as you silently sat at the counter, watching choso prepare some meals before yuuji was visiting. this time, you heeded his advice, not pestering his brother about needing help and instead just opting to watch him and make light conversation. choso seemed to have noticed as well, mood ever so slightly lifted when he saw you simply taking a seat and asking about his day. he liked this routine, being able to go about his day without someone unwantedly poking their nose into his business until he felt comfortable enough to talk about it. as you absentmindedly doodled on a napkin, choso casually told you about his day at work. about squirmy customers who were getting their first tattoo done, about those that had interesting ideas that he was still trying to find ways to implement, about how noisy his co-workers were and that they wanted to have a night out soon.

“do you wanna join us? you said you wanted to meet my friends,” choso asked, briefly glancing up at you as he was dicing the vegetables. it was true, you did inquire about his friends at some point, more so jokingly and out of curiosity - although he complained about them every now and then, you could tell that he deeply cared about them. choso was the kind of person who acted like a mother hen around friends and sometimes nagged a lot more than you anticipated. but then somehow, miraculously, every minuscule task that would stress you was completed and topped with a freshly made, warm dish by the end of the day. he wasn't good with words but his actions made up for it.

you didn’t expect him to offer you to tag along. he was comfortable enough to introduce you to his friends, even seemed to trust you with them. it felt… strangely heartwarming. "i would love to join you but i have quite a lot of assignments piling up; i'll have to do some night shifts to finish them," you replied and sighed ruefully, putting the pen away. "i'll tag along once i've finished everything, okay?"

choso frowned slightly. "but don't overwork yourself. you'll end up frustrated and burnt out," he told you earnestly, reaching out to pat your head. you gaped at him, the fond gesture making you feel flustered. it was nice knowing that he was looking out for you. choso stared back at you, seemingly startled by his own gesture as well. his hand had moved faster than he could react - he didn't know what to make of it.

the ring of the doorbell interrupted every trail of thought and you jumped up quickly. "i'll get it!" you sprinted towards the entrance, letting yuuji in. perhaps you greeted him too overzealously, yuuji looked at you like he knew something was up. nonetheless, he didn't mention anything, instead presenting you the bottle of wine and some dvds that he brought. choso gave his younger brother an acknowledging grunt, too absorbed in his tasks. taking in his surroundings as he got comfortable on the couch, he noticed some subtle changes in the apartment - the numerous pillows and fleece blankets littered across the couch, the set of matching mugs as well as choso's sketchbooks and, presumably, your textbooks on the coffee table. it was obvious that the two of you spent a lot of time together.

even throughout dinner, yuuji realized that choso had taken a liking to you, more than he probably realized and let on. he almost felt like a third wheel watching how you animatedly talked about trivial things and even more so when it was movie time. like a little burrito, you were wrapped in a blanket, leaning against choso. though it surprised yuuji to see his older brother opening up to you so rapidly, he was happy about it. although chaotic and clumsy, you were a good person and a positive influence. having witnessing how choso had closed up and how hurt he had been after the break up of his previous relationship, yuuji was glad that he wasn't cautious around you and welcomed your presence. even though… both of you were painfully oblivious.

"should we wake her?" yuuji asked as he saw you snuggling into choso's side, peacefully sleeping while the movie was still on.

"no, it's okay. she often falls asleep midway through movies, i just let her sleep. probably exhausted from uni."

yuuji looked at him as if he grew three heads. "so you just let her sleep? and you… sleep on the couch too?"

"hm? yeah, kind of. i feel bad about waking her and we're friends so it's not that big of a deal," choso replied innocently, shifting slightly so he was comfortable while keeping his arm around you. ever so slightly, he leaned onto you.

yuuji buried his face in his hands, silently screaming. don't comment on it, don't say anything, it's none of your business. you might have pink hair but you're no cupid.

utterly exhausted, you made your way into the apartment. you flopped onto the couch, grunting in irritation when you heard choso calling your name. staying put, you just laid there and listened to his footsteps nearing. "you okay? did anything happen?" he questioned, leaning over the couch to look at you. you weren't even sure what to answer, whatever you were feeling at the moment was an accumulation of stress across multiple weeks. you were frustrated with your projects, feeling like you weren't making any progress and not having time for yourself whatsoever. all you needed was a break, a pick me up.

"do you wanna talk about it?" choso repeated again but you shook your head, lifting your head slightly to look at him. he almost felt bad for thinking that you looked adorable, the way you huffed in frustration with a little pout on your lips. you shook your head, hugging one of the pillows.

"not now, later maybe?"

"okay. i'll make you a cup of tea." he disappeared from your field of vision. you listened to the sound of the kettle, closing your eyes as you focused on it. slowly, your erratic thoughts came to a halt. your breath and heartbeat steadied and you gradually felt more calm. clack. choso placed the cup of tea on the coffee table, taking a seat next to you. he was hesitant to touch you just yet, waiting for another reaction from you. sniffling quietly, you sat up and thanked him quietly.

"choso?"

"hm?"

"can i have a hug?" you inquired meekly. he didn't reply, simply pulling you into his arms. without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him, nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck. he smelled nice, like freshly washed laundry and the shampoo he was using. it reminded you of home, making you feel more at ease. gently, choso rubbed your back; wherever his fingers moved, it left a trail of goosebumps on your skin. not that he noticed anyways, fortunately. for a few minutes, only the sound of breathing resounded. it was calming and warm - choso was warm, so warm - you almost fell asleep. humming quietly, you moved closer to him.

"today was just really… bad. everything went wrong," you confided in him. "it made me feel like shit, like i couldn't do anything right. i guess i just feel really stressed so i can't concentrate on anything."

choso leaned forward, reaching out to grab the cup of tea. you squeaked in surprise, holding onto him so you wouldn't drop backwards. his left arm snaked around your waist, keeping you in place as he leaned back again. you moved back a little, as far as choso's arm allowed you to, and took the cup from him, taking small sips. "i think you're doing okay," he told you, drawing patterns on your back. "it's only natural to feel this way when everything's been piling up. what you need is a good rest and have a reset, you'll feel more refreshed and inspired to work on your projects. and don't hesitate to ask for help, no matter whether it's a professor or classmate."

"i also told you not to overwork yourself, didn't i? and don't think i can't tell that you've been pulling all nighters," he scolded you, pinching your cheek playfully. it made you giggle, tilting your head to get away from his hand.

"yeah i know, i know. just couldn't help it, it's a bad habit. i'll try to get better at it," you promised him, giving him a reassuring smile. "thank you for listening to me."

"it's the least i can do."

a comfortable silence fell over you. choso continued to rub your back in an attempt to soothe your nerves while you sipped your tea. you were grateful for him, he was an amazing friend - you didn’t even know how to show gratitude to him. awkwardly turning to put the mug back on the table, you then leaned against him. “choso?” you hummed against his chest, snaking your arms around his waist. “you know you can talk to me about problems too, right?”

“what do you think we’ve been doing these past few weeks?” he retorted and chuckled in amusement. “you should try to go to bed now. get some rest, you’ll feel better tomorrow.”

you pouted, not wanting to move. fortunately, he couldn’t see the face you were making - you weren’t ready to let him go just yet, wanting to memorize the expanse of his chest, his warmth, the way his arms felt around you. it made you feel safe, like a temporary relief to your anxiety. “can we… can we watch a movie maybe? i’m not sleepy yet.”

of course, choso saw right through you. “you always say that and then you fall asleep midway. you just don’t want to move, huh?”

“okay, you caught me,” you giggled hysterically as he stood up slowly and pretended to let you fall, catching you before you fell. clinging onto his shoulders, you wrapped your legs around his waist. you refused to let go. unbothered, he held you by your thighs as he waddled across the living room towards the console to choose a dvd to watch. while clinging onto choso, you could hear his heart beating rapidly - you chalked it up to how strenuous it must be to carry you around. choso, on other hand, couldn’t put a finger on the warm, tingly feeling inside of him. did he like having you around like this? stupid, of course he did, you were good friends after all. spending time with you was relaxing for him as well. back on the couch, he let you use his lap as a pillow, absentmindedly combing his fingers through your hair. the two of you remained in this position until both inevitably fell asleep, movie still playing in the background.

“y/n. earth to y/n. dude, can you hear me?” nobara was frantically waving papers in front of your face, rolling her eyes as you snapped out of your trance and took them from her. to your delight, the two of you shared quite a few classes this semester which meant that you could usually share the workload as well. you copied some of her notes, hastily scribbling them in your notebook.

"sorry, i was lost in thought. what did you say?"

"i asked you whether you wanna go out later? the whole crew is coming, it's been a while anyways," your friend repeated, placing her little cosmetics bag on the table to check her makeup and apply another layer of lip gloss.

"ah sorry, i already have plans for today, maybe ano-"

"with whom?" she asked pointedly, narrowing her eyes at you. in recent times, you've been rejecting her offers to hang out a lot; whether it be because of studying or hanging out with… "wait, are you having a date with that roommate of yours again?"

"it's not a date!" you briefly paused, giving her a dirty look. nobara was weirdly persistent about this dating thing, claiming that you would never get anywhere if you didn't make a move. "his name is choso, yuuji's older brother. i told you a million times already. he's been a really good friend and taking care of me when i feel stressed, so i thought it would be time for me to do the same for him."

"a really good friend?" a doubtful look was shot your way.

"yeah, i mean yuuji cooks for us all the time, how is it any different? anyways, i'll join you guys another day, okay?"

nobara stayed still for a moment. you truly didn't realize how much you's been mentioning choso. choso this, choso that, choso here, choso there. even yuuji had confided in her that he thought you might have developed a crush on his older brother though he wasn't certain. nobara, however, was sure. but operation make y/n realize things proved to be more difficult, considering you hadn't had a crush before as you were never interested in relationships.

"fine. but in return, you have to tell me about choso. what do you think of him?" nobara stuffed her belongings into the impossibly full handbag. propping her chin on her hands, she leaned closer to you with a shit-eating grin. you sighed, putting the papers away. it was no use trying to focus on your assignments when she was in an investigative mood. she wouldn't let go of the issue until you gave her a satisfactory answer. and for some reason, it irked you that she was inquiring about choso. why was she so curious about him? couldn't she have asked yuuji instead? it was his brother after all. maybe nobara was… interested in choso? you narrowed your eyes at her.

"i think he's great. might be intimidating at first and not very talkative but when he opens up to you, he's actually a softie. very respectful and polite towards people, always thinks of others first. and not to mention, he's really talented too! he often acts like he's annoyed by people or minds his own business but he really does care a lot. you feel comforted by his presence when you're close with him," you rambled, trying to list all the positive points about him that you could think of. nobara nodded slightly as she was listening to you, making it difficult to gauge her stance on him. was she going to confess now? maybe you should confront her about it. yeah, she would never admit it otherwise. "nobara, are you interested in choso? if you wanted me to introduce you to him, you could've just asked."

nobara stared at you with an open mouth. checkmate.

"you know i wouldn't have judged you at all! after all, choso is handsome too. so really, you don't have to sneak around about this," you concluded triumphantly, patting her arm in reassurance. it filled you with pride to be able to catch nobara off guard for once - usually, she was very composed and ready to give you a sassy answer.

"y/n, sweetie. you're so very wrong." nobara sighed, dejectedly pushing your hand away. you were incredibly dense when it came to feelings and relationships. maybe it would be more amusing to just watch everything pan out. “i don’t really care about choso, that’s your man after all.”

“yeah, yeah, i- wait what?”

thankfully, you arrived home earlier than choso did - for once. and for once, this friday was going to be a relaxing one, seeing as you’d finally finished your projects and assignments and could finally engage in a much needed self care day. placing the groceries bags on the counter, you went through the ingredients again just to make sure you didn’t forget anything. yuuji had given you a recipe for his famous meatballs recipe, claiming that it was one of choso’s favourite dishes. in recent times, choso seemed to be exhausted and sometimes even easily irritable after work - considering how much he did for you, it was only fair for you to treat him as well. surprising him seemed to be the best course of action.

making quick work of the ingredients, you took your time to clean the apartment while the soup was still cooking. yuuji was kind enough to lend you a few dvds, not even asking you whether you were going to watch them with choso anymore. while you felt bad about turning your friends down yet again, you promised yourself to make it up to them in the future by inviting them over for a sleepover or movie night. though knowing them, they would not let you stay in the comfort of your home but drag you to a party or club again. especially nobara would always insist on dragging you along, while megumi and yuuji didn’t really care about where they would be going for the night. her excuse was to find you a partner, claiming that it was about time you realized how cute you were, which you vehemently denied. even maki had told her to pipe it down at some point. all the more, it made you suspicious that nobara had not brought the topic up anymore. you couldn’t imagine her giving up so quickly, considering how persistent she had been for almost a year now.

the jingle of the keys and the soft click of the door made you stop whatever you were doing, peeking around the corner to see choso coming in. giggling quietly, you watched as he stopped in his tracks and sniffed the air, seemingly confused about the scent of the soup. he turned around upon hearing you, a small, almost unnoticeable smile on his lips. “up to no good?” he questioned you teasingly, placing his bag and jacket in the wardrobe. huffing, you stuck your tongue out at him and shook your head. you padded over to him, softly tugging at the sleeve of his shirt to make him follow you to the kitchen.

“since you always cook for me, i thought it would be time for me to do the same for you. yuuji showed me your favourite dish but i’m not sure if it turned out as well as he always makes it,” you sheepishly explained, showing him the pot of soup and the bowls and cutlery that you’d already laid out. choso hugged your side, squeezing your waist gently before patting your head and muttering a quiet thank you. your chest filled with pride, finally being helpful to him for once. if you weren’t careful, it would burst - he fuelled your ego even more as he complimented you, telling you how well the soup turned out and that he really appreciated it. you knew he wasn’t lying, for one because he was a sincere person and always offered heartfelt compliments, and because of how eagerly he was eating, practically inhaling the soup in one go. he even looked like he was in a food coma by the time you finished dinner, making you ban him from the kitchen to take a rest on the couch.

after washing the dishes, you came back to the living room to see him lie across the couch, eyes closed and calmly breathing. he looked like he was taking a nap, until he opened his eyes to peek at you as you approached. giddily, you joined him on the couch, showing him the hair products that you’d already placed on the coffee table. “can i give you a massage and do… uh hair stuff? i really like it when people brush my hair and stuff and i thought you might enjoy it too,” you explain to him. choso contemplated for a few seconds before shrugging nonchalantly. yes! you signaled him to sit on the floor in front of you as you pressed play. with the sound of the movie in the background, you focused on choso’s hair and took off the hair ties first. he got comfortable, turning towards the tv and learning his head against the edge of the couch. gently running your fingers through his hair, you made sure to detangle rough knots before massaging his scalp gently. you could tell that choso was beginning to relax by the way his shoulders were slowly sagging. in silence, you worked through the entirety of his scalp before moving on to brush his hair.

if you didn’t already know that choso was a naturally withdrawn person, you would’ve been concerned by how quiet he was and how he didn’t show any reactions to the movie. you were glad that he seemed to like the entire hair spa ordeal; he didn’t even seem to mind that you were using your hair products on him, the soft floral scent now emanating from his hair as you massaged it through the tips and then brushed it in slow strokes. by the time you were done, he looked utterly relaxed, struggling to keep his eyes open as he climbed back on the couch and sat next to you. without having to ask, he wrapped his arms around you. yawning quietly, you moved closer to him, turning your attention to the tv. habitually, his hands moved against your back, drawing shapes and patterns. slowly, choso could feel the heat in his body rising and chalked it up to the close proximity. it did make him feel a little uneasy however; he shifted you around on his lap until he felt comfortable. abruptly halting his movements, he froze as you turned to him, ass grazing his groin. an electric shock ran through him. subconsciously, he jolted at the friction. the tips of his ears turned red in embarrassment but he reassured you he was fine when you looked at him concerned. what the hell was that? was his body now not listening to him after being so relaxed?

“choso, can i ask you something?” you leaned back slightly to look at him.

“you already did. but yeah, go ahead.” choso grinned at the little huff you let out, grasping your hand in time as you tried to hit his chest and intertwined your fingers so you couldn’t move.

“uh this might sound weird but i think a friend of mine is interested in you. nobara, do you know her?” you squeezed his hand, moving it around with yours. “she asked me about you the other day.”

“huh, really? isn’t that one of yuuji’s friends too?”

you nodded in agreement. “yeah, we’re all friends. i only told her good things about you, of course.”

choso hesitated. he wasn’t sure what to tell you, not wanting to say something about your friend that could upset you. but the truth was, he wasn’t really interested in anyone right now. the recent breakup had done a number on him and he felt like he hadn’t properly moved on just yet. not when the thoughts were still obsessively circling in his head. but when choso was with you, they miraculously seemed to disappear, making him feel more at ease. “i’m not really looking for anything right now, sorry. i don’t really want to disappoint her, i’m just not really up for a relationship right now,” he told you truthfully, giving you an apologetic smile.

you stopped in your movements, nodding slightly in understanding. and still, it made your heart seize up for an unknown reason.

ps.: the story of how it takes reader and choso ages until they realize their feelings or alternatively: nobara and yuuji unwillingly turn into cupids

#jujutsu kaisen #choso #kamo choso #choso kamo #choso x reader #kamo choso x reader #choso kamo x reader #choso x you #kamo choso x you #choso kamo x you #choso imagines #choso kamo imagines #kamo choso imagines #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen imagines #fic: home #writing

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sashi-ya · 3 years

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Vampire!Law or werewolf!Law?

Hi, hi! I used to be obsessed with vampires back then. Never seen/read Twilight, though. But still. I didn't know if you wanted something NSFW, so I included some, not that explicit just in case. I hope you like it ♥. I loved the prompt so I'd probably be extending this story, perhaps with more OS someday!.

Vampire! Law x Reader.

Countryside town AU. No gender description. Everybody is 18+. No spoilers. TW: Blood. Slightly hurted animals. Kind of blood play. Soft NSFW. WC: 4.4K AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31552169

Drawing done using a base from: deviantart.com/shadow-bases

It’s a cold night, puffs of steamy air coming out from your mouth as you quickly walk to your parents’ house. The moon shines in between foggy clouds that cover a dark sky. You regret the moment when you accepted going out, plus everything around seems a little threatening. You are used to the city you were living in until now, and somehow forgot the feeling of living in your hometown. But, your old friends wanted to see you, and you couldn’t just say no.

The old town you were born in seemed to have never evolved. Since the day you left your parents’ house and moved to campus in the big city, the town has preserved its own style, the same houses, the same old shops.

Reddish dried leaves crunches under your feet, and some crickets sing in the dark. You grab your phone just to check the hour. 00:00. You are a little bit tired; you’ve been driving the whole day to get there, but even though you were exhausted your old friends insisted on celebrating your comeback to the nest.

You are about to get to your house, when a sudden noise creeps the hell out of you, but you realize it’s just a cute white cat. “Hello kitty, you scared me!”, you say as the little cat comes purring. You crouch and pet it, after all it was too cute to not play with it.

“Bepo… Bepo… where the hell are you?”, you hear a man’s voice that comes closer. “Are you Bepo?”, you ask the little kitten and try to see what his collar says. “Bepo!!, there you are!”, a young man says with a gravelly voice.

“Oh, excuse me!”, you tell him as he comes closer to grab the white ball of fur. “Oh no, it's ok! I was about to go to sleep and I was looking for him. Did you scare her/him/they, Bepo?”, he says, approaching you, bending down and petting the kitten’s head.

The clouds move allowing the moonshine to bathe his face, revealing refined face features. A straight but snub nose, white pale skin, black spiky hair that ends up with sideburns, a goatee, and intense grey eyes with very dark circles were his main features. He was the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life so you stay caught on his face for a little while.

A cold breeze blows your hair and somehow a chill runs through your spine, as you hear the sound of wind chimes dancing along on the front porch of a wooden house. “Do you live in this town? I haven’t seen you before… I mean, I’m kind of new into town though…” he says to you with a smile while lifting the cat on his slender, pale and tattooed hands.

You stand up and say “Oh, uhm...I’ve recently graduated so I came back to my parents’ house to work with them, I used to live here, though”. “Oh, I see! Nice to meet you! My name is Law”, he says while extending his hand to you. You hesitate for a second, but then you say “Nice to meet you Law, I’m Y/n”. You shake hands, and realize how cold his skin is, almost as if he was somehow… dead?.

The encounter is disrupted by your dad, who got worried of you not arriving at home and opened the door to see if you were coming. “Y/n! there you are!. Oh, hello young man!, How are you?”, your father says from the front porch. “Goodnight Mr. Y/sn, everything alright! What about you and your wife?” Law says waving at your dad. “She’s inside a little worried for her pancake, that I see you’ve already met!”, your dad tells him while laughing. “Dad… I’m ok, go inside, I’ll be there in a minute”, you say to him, embarrassed.

“Nice to meet you, Law. Have a good night”, you say petting the little cat. “Have a goodnight too, Y/n-ya. I hope I could see you again”, Law says, giving you a side smirk. You nod and walk away.

You flop onto your bed, tired, exhausted. You close your eyes, total darkness until… his eyes… Those crystal grey eyes are the only thing you can see, and then they turn to yellow. And you wake up with a big gasp to the smell of blood.

“What the fuck was that?”, you say, agitated. An orangey sun ray filters from the windows of your teenage years room and hits directly your face. You block the sun with your arm realizing soon it was already morning and today you start working on your old family farm as a vet.

“Good morning little pancakes!!”, your dad greets you, as well as your little brother. Your mum is cooking those delicious breakfasts you used to have when you were younger and you sit on the table, pleased and filled with your family’s love.

The day passes with you meeting all the animals on the farm, you even have to take care of a wounded horse. “Don’t worry Violet, it’s just a little blood, but your leg will be fine”, you say to a black spotted mare that has been jumping on the field and somehow hurt his leg.

At noon, your childhood best friend sends a text telling you that tonight you two should go to “Shambles Bar'' - the one and only bar that has ever been there since you were born - to have fun since it’s Friday. You agree, not because you were a fan of partying but because you missed those old days before you left for uni.

“Leeeeet’s go party like the old timeeees, babeee” your best friend shouts at you while jumping on your bed. “hahaha stop it, you are going to break the bed!!”. You both laugh, get ready and head out.

You pass next to Law’s house and try to see if he is at home, but it seems as if no one is there. “Oi, do you know Law?” you say pointing with your thumb to his house. “Law?”, your best friend asks confused, and continues, “You mean the vampire guy who lives there?, yeah. Why?”. “Vampire guy? what do you mean?” you ask, half confused, half curious. “Haha, the guys call him like this. I mean, have you seen how pale he is? and those dark circles? He looks like he is dead. Plus no one has seen him during the daytime. Ever. But how do you know him?”, she tells you. “Oh, yesterday, his cat, Bepo, came to me. He was looking for the kitty and we happened to talk”, you tell her with a tone that tries to downplay the topic. “Oh, I see. To be honest I don’t even know what he does for a living so I don’t have any more info. Maybe Luffy or Zoro know him, you can ask them tonight”, she says. “Yeah, maybe”, you say and change the topic.

A few drinks after and you and your friends are already dancing to the sound of country music and the humble light system of the old bar, when the same image of those eyes of your dreams flashes before your eyes and a sudden smell of blood hits your nose. You stand still for a moment, scared. “Babe, what is it?”, asks Nami, one of your friends there. “Uh.. n- nothing”, you say confused and keep dancing.

A few seconds later, someone is touching your shoulder from behind. Your friends stand still for a moment with a subtle scared expression, but the touch of that hand felt warm for you, even as if some type of power was running through all of your body.

“Y/n-ya?”, a well-known voice calls you, and you turn around. There he was, Law, “the vampire guy” as your friends call him. “L-Law?”, you say slowly smiling when you see his pale face. “What a coincidence, huh?. I mean the town is not that big…”, he says, and you finish his sentence with a “yeah, and this is the only bar…”. You both laugh and for some seconds your eyes are fixed onto each other’s.

“Oi, Torao! you wanna drink with us?” says Zoro, inviting Law to our table. “Yeah, thanks, Zoro-ya”, he tells him. You all sit and ask waiter Beca to bring you another round of drinks. Law sits next to you.

Sanji, another friend of yours, asks you “You two already know each other?”. “Kind of”, you say laughing a little blushed. “Y/n-ya met Bepo, first!” Law tells your blond friend, laughing.

An old song you and your friends used to dance as “your song” starts playing on the jukebox and you run to the dance floor. You can’t help but gaze at where Law is just to see if he is watching you dance. And he does, he is looking at you, with a smile on his pretty face. Your cheeks turn to red, but you are way grown up to act like a teenager, and decide to invite him to dance. You are driven somehow to him, you don’t really know why, but you are.

“Law, do you wanna dance?”, you tell him, extending your arm as you were calling him to the dancefloor. “You too guys, come here!!” Nami shouts to your friends.

Law stands up and walks to you. Smiling, he incorporates to the circle and starts dancing. He doesn’t dance well, but you just don’t care, you either after all.

A slow song starts to play, romantic also. Robin, another of your friends, tells you that the song is called “I Hear a Symphony”, and that Law should dance with you. You look at her, widening your eyes trying to tell her to stop, but Law grabs one of your hands and tells you “May I have this dance?”. You giggle a little, I mean why is he talking like a prince?, but then you just let yourself go and accept his offer.

The pale guy puts his other hand over your waist and you two start dancing to that pretty melody. For a moment you feel as if you were dancing into a castle, like in another century.

Interlocking your eyes, you start to think that coming back to your hometown wasn’t that bad and somehow you feel as if everything around you disappears. For an instant you believe to see his eyes change colors, from that crystalline grey to an intense brilliant yellowish color, but this time you don’t get scared. You feel attracted more and more to him, as if something invisible was pulling you towards him.

The touch of his hands feels cold, really cold, just like the first time… “is it because it’s almost winter?”, you think. Law is looking at your lips, neck, and something on his expression shows as if he was willing to devour you. And frankly, you too… you lost yourself looking at his mouth, he has it barely open. He has prominent canines that show through the little space in between his lips, and you remember your friend's words “the vampire guy” ...

The slow music is over, and now pop blasts on the bar. The couples part and you all come back to your table. It’s already 2 am, and you all feel exhausted from working all day - except Law, who seems to be really energetic -.

“Well, my dear friends, I’m not a teenager anymore, I think I’m coming back home now”, you inform your friends, to which some of them reply protesting and the others supporting the motion.

“If you want to, I can walk you home. I mean, we are neighbors”, tells you Law. Something inside you says “oh no darling, you are going fast”, but your mouth simply slips a “Oh, thank you, that’d be fine”.

You grab your coat, and head to the door followed by your deadly crush. None of you two say a word the first few steps. Tonight, is even colder than yesterday, but your cheeks are so red, full of blood that you don’t seem to notice the freezing breeze. “He is going to think I’m desperate, like he is the hottest guy I’ve ever met, but still… calm down Y/N”, you say to yourself, while walking thinking about what to say to break the ice.

“The moon looks pretty tonight, doesn’t it?”, he says to you, timidly. You look up to the sky and contemplate a big full moon with reddish tints on its hue. “Oh, I think it is the eclipse they were talking about on tv last night… the “red moon” ...”, you say, but got interrupted by Law, “Yeah, a “blood moon””. The way he said that, felt almost as threatening, but you look at him, and there he is, smiling at you with a friendly face.

You remember you still don’t know shit about him, so you ask him, “Oi, Nami told me you moved into town a few months ago, what did it bring you here?”. He stops for a moment, looking at the ground, but then sketching out a fake smile he tells you, “I got bored from the city, so I moved into the countryside… but to be honest I came mainly because I heard that pumpkin pies here are delicious”. You look at him, because that sounded like a terrible lie but you chose to believe it and when you were about to ask him about what he does for a living, he interrupts you, “Well, it looks like we are already home”. “Oh, yeah, I haven’t noticed, ha-ha”, you say, a little bit annoyed because you wanted to ask him more questions, but mainly sad because the walk was over.

“So… goodnight”, you say to him while fidgeting back and forth with your feet. “Goodnight…” he says. You are both facing each other, and you nor Law are moving. He got his eyes fixed on your lips, and you wish he would just kiss you.

Slowly, little by little, Law approaches his face to yours, closer, closer, until... he stops himself violently. You get scared, but you don’t move a single muscle. “Why… why you… why do you smell like blood?”, he says gasping.

“W-What?”, you ask him confusedly backing up. “You, you smell like blood… have you… your arm…”, he says, snatching your forearm. Suddenly, you remember this morning, you cured Violet, and some blood got spilled on your forearm but you washed the area and took a bath right before going out. “How did you know?”, you ask him.

He remains silent, trying to calm down. “I’m… I’m sorry I have a really sensitive nose”, he says and continues, “Why don’t you go to sleep, we can talk tomorrow, it’s pretty late now. Goodnight”. He says and runs to his house.

You are left there, and for a moment you just can’t process what just happened. “What the fuck, Law?”, you think. A cold shiver on your back announces to you, you should go back home and go to bed. There was no point in staying there.

You snuggle on your bed, still trying to understand but the exhaustion your body felt wins and you fall asleep. Again, those eyes, the smell of blood, the cold touch, you can see, smell, feel it all… “Y/n! pancake!!! wake up!!!”, you hear your dad shouting at you. You open your eyes violently, “What??? What happened dad??”. “The cattle, some… something attacked them…”, he says horrified. “What?” ...

You get dressed and run to the cowshed. A poor steer lays there, he has been attacked by some kind of animal… with fangs, and the poor thing looks like he has lost some blood. Luckily he was still alive, so you helped him instantly.

“Pancakes, what are those wounds on the neck the animal has?”, your dad asks. “To be honest, dad, I don’t know. It looks like some kind of animal has bitten the steer, but didn’t eat it… it looks like… has drunk some of his blood…”, you say to your dad astonished even more than him. “But, what kind of animal could do such a thing?”, he inquiries. “The only ones that could do it are the Desmodontinae, or vampire bats… but they are not typical in this hemisphere…

The incident quickly spread and everyone in town was talking about it. Luckily the animal recovered in a few hours, as the wounds weren’t that bad.

You can’t stop thinking about Law, and quickly you forget about the animal incident. He has been on your mind all morning, “why did he run away?” ... That afternoon you decide to go see if Law is at home, you really need to ask him about last night… Plus, deep inside you are a little bit annoyed, you wanted him to kiss you…

You ring the bell of the wooden house, but there is no answer. Since the blinds were all shut down, you think that he must be at work.

Suddenly little Bepo appears meowing from the backyard. “Hi Bepo!! Is your daddy at home?”, you ask the little cat while ruffling his head fur. The cat rubs on your leg and then walks back to the backyard, so you decide to follow him.

If Law isn’t at home you could perhaps take a look at his patio. You are curious and he represented a mystery you wanted to decode, really bad.

At first you think you’ve seen someone looking at you from one of the windows of the house, but you thought it was just your imagination. You trespass private property.

The patio showed nothing but a bucket on one of the corners, next to an old mossy bench. You follow Bepo, and as you are approaching the metal pail that has something red inside, your phone rings. “God damn!!”, you jump scared. The phone screen shows an unknown number calling, “That’s weird”, you say and pick up. “Hello?”, “Hi!, Y/n-ya, it’s me, Law. I’m sorry to bother you but I wanted to apologize about last night”. Law… LAW! You realize you are still in his yard so you quickly leave the place and start walking home. “Don’t worry, I guess it must be a little intimidating to be with someone that smells like… blood”, you say. A silence takes the call but then Law simply laughs -again, a fake laugh- and tells you that he will call you later to compensate you for last night. You agree and say goodbye.

You close the door behind you leaning over it, gasping. Your heart races. What if he knows you’ve been stalking his house…? “I’m such a creep”, you say to yourself, and go to your room.

You spend the afternoon in your backyard with your mum, October is about to end so the fall season is at its peak. Maple leaves fall from a big tree next to your porch and garnish the patio with its coppery colors.

That night, your parents and brother were invited to a party in the next town, so they won’t come back until the next day. After a hot meal you go to sleep. You haven’t received any messages from Law yet and you wonder if you should text him or just let him do it first. You finally decide that he should be texting you first, so you snuggle in bed and close your eyes. For the third night in a row, you dream with those eyes, with the smell of blood. But, this time it's so intense that you awake instantly in the middle of the night. “Again?”, you say while brushing your hand over your eyes.

Suddenly you hear something knocking on your window… “Law?!”, you say, gasping. He mimics something similar to an “open please”. Your bed is next to the window so you are still sitting there in your pjs, so you stretch to open the window.

“What are you doing here?”, you ask him while helping him to enter. Law sits on the bed and tells you, whispering “I’m sorry, I was missing you, I really, really needed to see you… plus I told you I wanted to compensate for yesterday”.

A subtle light from the moon illuminates half of your faces, and you are speechless. “So, this is how he plans to compensate for running away last night? He is on my bed… he looks so sexy… damn”, you think. But Law starts acting innocently, and begins to ask you about the trophies on your shelves.

You tell him about how good you were at volleyball when you were in high school, and he tells you that he was too. “Where did you take that picture?”, he asks, pointing to an old photo you had pinned on the cork board. “This one?” you say, and when you grab it the side of the paper cuts your finger softly but enough to make some blood sprout. “Ouch!”, you say and you are about to take your finger to your mouth when Law grabs your wrist violently. “L-Law?!! What are you doing?”, you tell him, scared trying to unfasten from his hand. Law doesn’t speak, he starts to tremble, he is breathing fast, he is squeezing your wrist.

“Let me go, Law!” you say, but he doesn’t hear. He is somehow focused on perhaps staying still, trying to avoid something. He suddenly looks at you, his expression resembles a beast, beads of sweat run through his temples. His eyes change from grey to a bright yellow, his pupils dilate. His prominent canines are now true fangs.

Law is salivating, his veins are now visible on his forehead, you can see how his blood pumps faster. You can’t understand what the hell is going on, but for some reason you don’t scream. You concentrate on his eyes, you are able to see a remaining humanity in them, so you are far from scared.

He lets go of your hand, and kneels on the floor. Law is panting soundly; he is fighting against himself. “Calm down”, you say to him. He looks up to you, with tears in his eyes, still emitting guttural sounds. He is surprised to see how your face doesn’t show terror, nor contempt. You don’t know why, but you are even more attracted to him, dangerously attracted. You were willing to let him drink your blood if he wanted to…

With a smirk on your face, you say to him, “Blood is what you want, huh?”. He opens his mouth, and a pair of sharp fangs are shown. He shakes his head, he doesn’t want to hurt you, but he needs you. “I trust you; I know you won’t hurt me. You can drink from me”, you offer him. You know he is able to stop, and somehow everything makes sense. The poor animal this morning, he has just drunk a little blood but didn’t inflict mortal wounds to it. If he was that considerate to an animal, he will probably be with you too. -Or that is what you wanted to believe-.

He swallows, and still trembles and without any warning he pounces on you. Your back hits your bed and he's over you. He fixes his eyes on yours and asks you, "are you sure about this?". "Uhum", you nod. You are so desperate for him, that you probably consider yourself a beast more than him.

Law buries his fingers on your cheeks, and violently moves your head to the side, exposing your neck. You feel a few drops of saliva that falls into your skin from his mouth, and see how he approaches your neck.

He bites you, but even if it hurts, he is drinking your blood from your carotid so subtly, so carefully. A few seconds later, he stops. Some of your warm blood runs from the wound onto your bed.

"T-Thank you…" he says, planting a soft kiss over the little holes on your skin, caressing your hair. "You are welcome", you say, almost naturally as if being bitten by some kind of beast was something you always do.

But suddenly, you start to experience some kind of pressure on your chest, and breathing becomes difficult. Your eyes roll back, and you feel different. You look at him, trying to understand what is going on, and he simply brushes his tattooed hands over your face. "Don't worry, it's normal. You are not going to turn into… me. But, a little bit of me runs through your veins now…". He says, brushing his hand over his mouth trying to clean the mess your vital fluid has left on his lips.

You are not worried about becoming into a vampire or whatever the hell he is, but because you are experiencing a strong need to touch him, to kiss him, to fuck him. "Kiss me", you command him.

He looks at you, still settled over your body and your lips meet. His tongue invades your mouth, and you can taste the metallic rests of your blood on his mouth.

Without separating your mouths helps you take off your white -blood stained- shirt and then you do the same with him. His torso shows a big design inked on his skin, and a few wounds.

His fangs subtly scrape your skin, from your neck, to your chest, lower through your stomach. He spreads your legs with his strong arms, and softly but enough to leave some marks, bites the skin of your inner thighs. The feeling of those fangs softly ripping the first layers of your skin made yourself squirm in pleasure.

His yellow eyes fix on yours, and now he is devouring your sex. You throw your head back and surrender to his skilled tongue movements. What follows next is an extremely hard pounding session, that leaves you trembling, exhausted, sore… but satisfied.

Since then, every night you let him slowly drink you up, drop by drop, giving to him a bit of your life every time. Your eyes slowly changed colors, first a little patch of yellow, then half of your right iris…

A deadly, dangerous attraction, that won’t last forever… or maybe, if you decide to let everything aside and turn into a full vampire like him… who knows? maybe your obsessive love for him would end up changing your life… forever. ♥

#trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar d. water law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x oc #one piece #law one piece #law x y/n #law x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #one piece x oc

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os-hyoideum · 3 years

Text

the wh*res are fighting 19 (one-shot)

Part 19: THE DATE

Previous - here - Next

masterlist

(this, perhaps, can be read seperately, so if you you wanna check it out, but nit the SMAU, then go on 😉)

a/n: Ok, it took me a long time, but I had a lot of uni work and it's also almost 5k words 🙃 Like, I can pull the standard SMAU texts out of my ass in an hour sometimes, but this? Nah-ah, I like writing, but I'm mostly slow. (but I will write out the ending too) Since the format is different, I'm putting content warnings on this (outside of the ones on the matserlist). Again, it's an AU so I will write Touya as bitchy or soft as I please, and I take no criticism for it 💅 (now watch me destroy them after some nice time - if you see this no you don't)

THE SHOT IS UNDER THE CAT

WORDCOUNT: 4878

CONTENT: hero!AU (Dabi/Touya is a hero), OOC, Y/N is awkward at feelings (cringe), lack of safety equipment (sledgehammers), romantic arson (just a bit), cursing, tatted up/pierced Touya, Touya rides motorcycle

I really hope you gonna enjoy it, cause I enjoyed writing it and I think it's alright!

You looked up from your phone to see the place where you were to meet Touya. As a first part of his date plan, he invited you to a small café that looked almost like a bookshop from outside. On the windows hung colorful fairy lights (although turned off, due to it being bright outside) and some handmade paper decorations. It truly was a nice place, but quite an unusual choice, considering it was Touya who chose it; a bit too wholesome perhaps, but who were you to judge.

After making sure that the address you arrived at was the correct one, you stopped under a tree to get some shade from the warm sun rays. You started to look around, seeing people, some of them in a rush, some enjoying the nice weather, while leisurely walking to their mysterious destinations. Unfortunately, one face was oddly familiar. Standing on the opposite side of the road was an ordinary looking man in dark clothing. Looking straight into your eyes, he moved towards the crosswalk and, in a very relaxed manner, directed his steps towards you.

You tensed up, ready for anything. It wasn't a good omen to see him right there, right now. He was sent there as a warning and it was apparent in his intense gaze and every little calculated move. Also, because you knew how the gods' machine works.

After barely a few seconds, the unnamed man stopped right in front of you, leaving precisely one and a half meter of space between your bodies. Perfectly straight back, relaxed face features, hands in sight. It didn't seem as though he was there to attack or cause trouble (any bigger than his presence alone already was), but you knew better than to let your guard down. Staring him down, you waited patiently for his words.

“Hello, number Four,” he said with a slight underline of contempt in his voice.

“What do you want?” You looked around to check if any unwanted attention was on you two. It wasn’t really necessary considering both of you looked like ordinary civilians, but, at the end of the day, it’s better to be aware of one’s surroundings.

The man shifted his weight slightly, taking half a step closer.

“You know your little paradise won’t last long.” He exclaimed and smiled cynically. “Or have you, perhaps, forgotten?”

“Fuck off.” With a cold voice and a cold gaze, you ended the short exchange. The man did not move, however. He stood, still with an annoyingly straight back, in front of you and looked both harmless and ready to leap at you, had he deemed it necessary.

The stare off was short lived. A few seconds later you felt a presence coming from behind you and the man was pushed away by Touya, who came just in time to hear the end of your conversation. He looked a bit concerned, but stared at the mysterious person with a hard gaze and little bit of blue flame coming from the corners of his mouth.

“She told you to fuck off, so go and scurry away.”

Unbothered, the man didn’t pay any attention to this sudden event. He seemed even amused by it to some extent.

“I see you got yourself-” he glanced quickly towards Touya, who stood right next to you “a dog.”

Already annoyed before by the sheer presence of this man, now you felt your blood boil. WIthout thinking much, you leapt towards him and harshly grabbed the collar of his shirt. You heard someone close-by whisper with a scared voice, but you paid no mind to it.

“Fuck. Off.” You started, accentuating the words and putting as much venom into them, as you could muster. “Go and crawl at their feet like the pathetic nobody that you are.”

You saw a change in his eyes. No longer emotionless, he seemed irritated, which filled you with a bit of sadistic pride. He forcefully pulled your hands away and shoved you back. Then brushed his shirt like nothing happened and, just before turning around and going away said:

“You are the same. Everyone who touches the Olymp is.”

Finally alone with your still-just-a-friend, you turned around to face him. Having brushed off the encounter, you smiled at Touya, first a little fake, but seeing him made you happy enough to be genuine after just barely a second. On the other hand though, he still seemed rather concerned with the strange turn of events.

“Who was that?”

“He’s a colleague... from work.” Your answer didn’t lessen Touya’s worry. His brows furrowed, while he decided to press a bit more.

“From work? He’s… a hero?”

You stood right in front of him and lifted your arm, putting the thumb between his brows, watching him relax slightly, as you caressed the crease in his skin.

“From before.” It was a diplomatic answer, both a lie and a truth. You knew Touya wasn’t stupid and would get to the truth sooner or later, but for now he seemed to let it go, so you changed the topic. “So, I must ask. Why… a cafe? I would be more inclined to think you’d take me to a boxing ring or something.”

Touya smiled at your teasing tone, but did not answer. He just turned around and started walking towards the entrance of the place. He stopped and held the door for you, still standing next to the tree, a few meters away.

“You coming?”

You looked at him unamused by his lack of answer, but went inside. It was pretty and cozy, which didn’t match with his more edgy vibe, but you just brushed it off and sat down on a plush armchair in the corner. You put your elbows on the table and propped your head on your palms, looking as Touya took his jacket off and threw it on the back of his chair. You started to closely admire the tattoos adorning both of his arms, from the hands to his shoulders (and even further, as you already knew).

“Both your tattoo and hand kink are showing, baby.”

He sat down and looked at you with a teasing glint in his beautiful eyes. You leaned back, crossed one of your legs over the other and put your arms up, in a gesture of surrender, but then looked at him accusingly.

“That’s not my fault that you’re a harlot. You’re basically putting yourself on display for me, so really, it’s on you. You whore.”

“You got me, but it’s only for you.”

Touya laughed then and stood up to buy you both a coffee. You sat still, waiting and looking around. When your eyes landed on the discarded jacked, you stood up to take it. A simple black jean jacket, quite thin to be suitable for the warm weather. Holding it by the collar, you brought it closer to your face and inhaled the smell of the perfume lingering on the fabric. You couldn’t quite tell what it was, but it wasn’t too strong and you had to admit it was one of the best smells you knew, especially with the mix of natural scent of Touya’s body.

The owner of the jacket came back with the drinks a few minutes later and saw you with the piece of clothing.

“A little thief today, are we?”

You took one last whiff of the jacket and put it down.

“It smells nice. Maybe I should buy this perfume for myself.”

Touya looked up from his coffee.

“You want my perfume?”

“As I said - it’s nice.” You shrugged and saw him smirk.

“I can give you mine if you want to smell like me so badly.”

“Hmm…” You hummed and leaned forward a bit, “Well, I wouldn’t mind smelling like you.”

You took your cup and started to slowly drink, while looking into Touya’s eyes. Something in them made you feel strange, perhaps it was the softness with which he took you in.

When sunshine fell on him from between the window decorations, he reminded you of some kind of angel, eyes almost glowing, silver piercings glistening; the sun accentuated every little shadow on his face, but, at the same time, made him look really delicate.

Touya’s gaze went down and your thought moved to the back of your mind. He adjusted his position on the chair before speaking.

“I guess I can tell you why the cafe, which you found, oh so surprising, I don’t know why.” He paused for a second to narrow his eyes at you. “I’ve heard you wanted a “normal” date, whatever the hell that means.”

“Wha-,” your eyes widened with mock surprise, “Did Shiggy snitch on me?”

“Please, he didn’t have to. It’s not like you asked all your friends for advice. So I decided to take you somewhere… classic, if you will.”

You crossed your arms on your chest and rolled your arms, then pointed an accusatory finger at your companion.

“Now you’re just mocking me.”

“Me? Never.” Obvious sarcasm on his part. “But I have one more place that I want to take you later. Perhaps more to your standards.”

Now you felt a bit guilty that he might have thought you didn’t like it. He didn’t seem so, but you preferred to explain either way.

“I don’t want you to think that I don’t appreciate it… it’s just…” You shrugged. “I didn’t expect something so… usual? Common? Normal, heh.”

“I know you’re just awkward, but let’s relax and enjoy ourselves.”

And so you did, talking about many different things for a few hours.

***

You put your index finger on your lips, pondering on something for a moment.

“Isn’t it going to be, you know… the anniversary soon? Of your mom’s divorce, I mean.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” Touya nodded.

“Damn, happy birthday then.” You brought your cup to your lips like you didn’t just say… that. But Touya lifted his eyebrows and stared at you unsure.

“What?” You just shrugged and he sighed, “Nevermind then. Happy birthday to mom.”

A few seconds of a comfortable silence fell over the two of you. The hushed voices of the people around filled your ears; they mixed together, providing a nice background noise.

“So… how’s you dad?” You quirked an eyebrow at Touya’s surprised expression.

“You want to talk about my… dad? Of all things?”

“Well… I’m just asking! And you know… since he “sucks ass” does he also eat it?” You smiled stupidly, but he just stared with a deadpan. “Okay, stupid, I admit.”

“We have family therapy, so it’s not that bad. Though, the old mad does deserve the bullying.”

You agreed and made a toast with your drink to Touya’s words.

***

“Excuse me!?” Touya exclaimed loudly, “You did what!?”

You put an index finger to your lips trying to shush him, while a few other people looked in your direction, some with curiosity, others with disapproval.

“It wasn’t that bad…” You looked apologetically at some of the patrons. “It’s not like I died.”

Touya stared at you in shock for a good few seconds, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. He was almost at a loss of words.

“What- not like she died! Fuckin-” He groaned and dramatically clutched his shirt on his chest. “You’re killing me! You’re killing your father!”

You snorted at his statement. Well, a flair for the dramatics was in his repertoire, after all.

“Don’t you mean ‘Daddy’?” You said with an amused smile and added with a tinge of irony: “Or do you prefer ‘father’ now?”

Touya did not find it funny (or at least, he didn’t let it show on the outside, if he did). He cupped his mouth with one hand, looking to the side, as to ponder on something.

“You know what?” He directed his gaze at you. “I might have to rethink the idea that dating you would be so nice. Like, you… fucking dumbass.”

Ah, concerned Touya, pretty sweet, you had to admit, but there really wasn’t a reason for him to worry.

“Keigo was with me then.” You stated matter of factly.

“Oh, yeah,” he nodded, “I am going to talk with that bastard too… no heroing with Keigo for you!”

You seriously didn’t think that he would be so concerned about the whole ordeal. After all, it was in the past, nothing really happened and if it would have happened, then well… you wouldn’t be here to discuss it.

You smiled softly.

“I don’t think you have any say in this.”

You chuckled, when Touya very aggressively took a sip.

“Jumping off the building… Who fucking does that!?” Oh no, the stare of disapproval.

“Keigo.”

“Because he has WINGS!”

“Yeah, and he caught me because of them!” You paused for a moment and thought for a moment about it. “Though I actually wasn’t sure he would, I mean… you know. He IS quite strong though.”

Touya actually looked like he was ready to end it all right then and there.

“You… didn’t know if he would catch you?” He articulated very slowly, slightly squinting his eyes at you. “And you still jumped?”

“Yup! You know, the adrenaline, fight or flight… I chose flight obviously.” You immediately saw that your cheerful carelessness and (an amazing) joke were nor appreciated, as he looked at you with a blank face, complete deadpan.

“I think, sooner or later, I’m gonna have a heart attack because of you.”

To that, you just cackled and reassured him that you would try not to die in a near future.

***

“Sooo… My sweet Touya, my favorite Todoroki.” He braced himself for whatever you wanted to throw at him, while you shot him a suggestive look. “When are you going to do a new tattoo?”

Oh, he already knew where this was going.

“I don’t know. Why are you asking?”

“You know…” You acted as if mulling on your idea and tilted your head to the side. “If you need some company…”

Touya sighed and just decided to get to the point.

“Do you wanna go with me?”

“Oh my god, can I?” You grinned and flicked your wrist. “You don’t have to!”

“Ok, then I’ll go alone.” He checked his phone, feigning disinterest, and took a quick look at you to see the hand still in the air and a very surprised expression on your face, that turned almost offended a second later.

“You can’t take it away from me! I’ll have you know, I have my rights.”

“I’m not taking anything away, since I never before said that you could go with me. You just always do.”

“Oh.” You looked down at your knees and did a fake sniff, knowing fully well he didn’t mind your presence… anywhere, really. “You don’t want me there?”

“Well, that-” he smirked slightly, “I never said.”

“So you’re just making a fool out of me then, I see how it is.” You crossed your arms over your chest and glared at him. He just laughed

“You already do it yourself pretty well.”

You gasped loudly with a hand on your chest.

“The audacity! You… how dare you! If you’re gonna be bitchy, I’ll fuck your sister, I will. Don’t try me.”

Touya rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Will you though?” He seemed unconvinced, you wondered why. “Honestly, I thought you did it already. You were going out with her for what? Two months? That’s long… for your standard.”

“Nooo, I didn’t… really, I did not.” Then a different thought popped up in your head. “Won’t it be weird that IF we… become a couple, potentially, and I would, hypothetically, meet your family somewhere, you know, by chance and all. That I am Fuyumi’s ex, I mean.”

He furrowed his brows to digest your question.

“You think about that?” He smiled, seeing your awkward expression. “That’s cute of you.”

“BABY STEPS, PLEASE.” You loudly exclaimed, avoiding Touya’s eyes, to which he chuckled.

“Okay, just teasing you, baby.” His gaze softened. “But do you really care about that? What others think?”

“Uh…” you sighed, “I don’t know. Not really? But kind of.”

“It’s okay, baby steps, like you said.”

He leaned forward over the table, took your hand into his and soothingly caressed it with his thumb. Your heartbeat quickened a bit and, surprised at that, you just stared at Touya’s slowly moving finger. Feeling were never easy nor were they particularly good, but it felt so nice.

***

Suddenly you saw a flicker of colorful lights next to you, seeing that the decorations on the window were turned on. Looking out the window, you noticed how dark it became. The street neon lights were illuminated everywhere, people moving in all directions to unwind after hard days of work during the week. You were almost shocked at how fast the time went by.

“It’s pretty late, isn’t it?”

Touya hummed in agreement and, without saying anything, stood up to pay the bill. Earlier, you almost fought him to split it, but you came to an agreement that another time (“Oh, you already want to go out with me again?”, he teased) you would be the one paying. A moment later he came back, put his jacket on and you both exited the lovely cafe.

“So… where are we going?” You asked after following him in a completely opposite direction, to which you came from earlier that day.

“You’ll see.”

Ah, so much for getting information out of Mr Todoroki.

With a sigh, you just decided to follow him in silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, like it usually tends to be, for which you were grateful. He wasn’t pushy, let you do things at your own pace, so you felt… comfortable.

A moment later you felt him grab your hand and let him intertwine your fingers together. Again, the annoying feeling in your chest reappeared. You would need to get a grip on yourself, if this was to continue. The evening was getting quite chilly so Touya used his quirk to make his palm warmer, but you almost took your hand away. You knew that it was bad for him, especially without his support items, even though he was able to control it, almost to perfection. Before you were able to get away, his skin quickly went back to its natural cooler state with a light squeeze to your hand.

Going through the busy street, you were able to observe people differently than usual. On patrols, you were mostly checking out dark alleyways, some abandoned or suspicious buildings, sometimes sites on the outskirts of the city; being able to, sometimes, take in the lively energy of the crowd was enjoyable.

Touya stopped after turning into some calmer sideroad. He took his hand from yours to grab a helmet and then helped you put it on.

“We taking your baby for a spin?”

“Of course.”

“Hmm, nice.”

After putting on his own helmet he sat down on the motorcycle, waiting for you to do the same. You noticed a new paint job on the matte black surface of the machine. On the sides were done shining blue flames, very on brand for him. You liked it.

You sat down behind Touya taking a hold of his waist, when he revved the engine and slowly drove away from the busy part of the city. Expertly maneuvering the streets, soon enough you were driving on the outskirts, where barely anyone was out. You looked at the changing scenery over his shoulder, noting the road you were taking seemed familiar. The trees surrounding you from both sides made the night look a bit unnerving, but it wasn’t anything you weren’t used to. The city was far behind already.

You squeezed him just a tiny bit stronger and put your head on his shoulder, careful not to knock the helmets on each other. Loud howling of the wind and the noise of the engine were a surprisingly calming combination, which you have discovered long ago, the first time Touya took you for a drive.

Finally, the motorcycle slowed down. You passed the old busted metal gate and entered a site surrounded by a tall chain link fence, made from wire much thicker than usual to make it more sturdy. The place was situated on a flat field, a bit away from the trees. You could barely see the outline of the big city from where you were.

The space where he parked was relatively empty, save for an occasional piece of metal or glass laying here and there. The only building was a huge square block, bare walls outside “decorated” only by identical windows with perfectly measured spaces in between them. The inside should be relatively empty. What ought to be there are only some vacated rooms and stairs leading from the ground, through three stories, to the roof.

You got off the motorcycle and took the helmet off, hanging it on the handlebar. Taking a closer look around, you notice a pair of sledgehammers and a can of gasoline next to the gate of the building.

“An abandoned Commission site, huh?” You asked rhetorically, but Touya looked surprised at that.

“How do you know what this place is?”

You decided to ignore him and just pointed to the items you noticed.

“You planning to kill me here or something?” You said with a smile, looking at him. He quirked an eyebrow and moved to pick up the sledgehammers and offered you one.

“Birdbrain said we can trash this place.” You took the tool weighing it in your hand with ease.

“Of course he did.” You glanced at the gasoline. “Did he also say we can play with fire?”

Touya smirked, lifted his hand towards his face and lighted his pinky finger with blue fire. He then moved the hand more towards you, letting you blow it out.

“With me, it’s always playing with fire.”

“I knew you were an arsonist at heart, Touya.” You chuckled lightly, but your voice quickly died down when you looked at him.

He looked at you with an intensity that instantly hypnotized you to focus only on his eyes, which seemed to glow slightly. The only source of light was the moon and the stars in the sky so you were surrounded by harsh shadows and an occasional speck of moonlight.

The gaze with which he stared at you almost made you uncomfortable, because it seemed like he was able to read every little dirty secret you held deep within. A quick thought, that maybe he actually could read you like that, crossed your mind.

He moved a step towards you and brought his hand to grip your chin. Not hard enough to hurt you, but enough to feel that he could, if he wanted to. Exciting.

He pulled your face a little, so that his lips were right next to your ear. You felt his hot breath on your skin, when he asked:

“Aren’t you?”

You felt him move his mouth across your skin, from your ear right to your lips. The grip on your chin lessened as he moved his hand to hold the back of your neck instead. It wasn’t anything new to kiss him, but it felt a lot more intimate this time. No force behind it, no rush, nothing inherently sexual; just softness, an interesting contrast to his intense eyes and touches.

He moved away, just enough to speak up, your noses still touching.

“Come on.” He let go completely and moved to grab the gasoline, before entering the building.

You stood in place a moment longer, rendered speechless and motionless by the emotions you felt. The loud hammering in your chest was almost deafening. Not good, get a fucking grip. Without a word, you followed Touya inside.

After a few moments (when the blood pump finally decided to calm down), you glanced around. As you thought, a big empty space, at least on the ground floor. Since the electricity had been shut off a long time ago, the only light was coming from the moon and your phone flashlight. You went after him towards the stairs to the first floor, where a space was filled a little bit more by the rooms dividing the place.

Touya stopped next to a wall to one of the former offices and put his things down, before taking your phone to light your blank canvas, ready for destruction.

“Swing.” And so you did.

You braced yourself against the floor for stabilization and took a wide swing, from behind your back. The hammer made an impact with the wall and with ease penetrated it to the other side. Forcefully, you teared it out, making the hole two times wider.

Oh, it was so liberating. The destruction and chaos of this place would bring you much pleasure.

With a laugh, you took a next swing, and then another, and another. Both of you went on a rampage, destroying what you could in this deserted place. All of the windows broken (some of them with your fist covered in a rug found somewhere on the ground), the inside walls full of holes, doors ripped out of its hinges. The place filled only with dust, debris, and the laughter and screams of both of you.

After you had enough, you ended up lying on the roof. Touya’s head right next to yours, although upside down, as he laid in the opposite direction.

You stared at the clear night sky, admiring millions of stars visible that night. It was always an otherworldly experience to be able to see them. It made everything seem so insignificant in the comparison to the vastness and beauty of space.

Touya, however, was not looking at the sky. His eyes were focused solely on you. He liked the peace and calm visible on your face. You felt his gaze on the side of your face and turned your head to the side, to also look at him.

You moved your hand to push his hair back. It was always really soft to the touch.

“Your roots are showing.” You said quietly, looking at the white part of his hair. He just hummed with eyes closed, marveling at the soft touch on his head.

Before he could fall asleep here, you took your hand and sat up cross-legged. You turned around to look at him, still lying down and still looking at you.

“Didn’t you want to commit arson?”

He perked up at that and got up, but stopped you, when you moved to do the same.

“Wait a second and don’t move.”

You stayed seated and just observed as Touya took the can and started to pour the gasoline on the roof, away from the stairs, in some kind of pattern. When he finished, he motioned you with his hand to come to him.

Ah, so the gasoline heart then. You weren’t really surprised by it, but still laughed, although more at the weirdly proud expression Touya had on his face.

“It’s really cheesy,” you paused for dramatic effect, “I love it.”

You kissed him lightly on the cheek, to which he froze for a second. Oh, could it be that this time you were the one to render him speechless? After the initial shock, he beamed at you with his stupidly wide grin that sometimes appeared on his face. Though, after a moment it faltered and he grabbed your upper arm. You could pull away, if you wanted, but you just let him hold you.

“Who was that man today?” This again. He seemed worried, more than anything, which you didn’t like that much, cause he could drill it out of you, if he truly wanted. So you decided to avoid his eye, looking in the other direction.

“I told you already… it’s a colleague from work.”

“You know I don’t buy it.”

“I know, but… it’s the truth.” You looked him straight in the eyes, so he would know that it was not a lie.

“I hope you know you can tell me anything.” You wished you could.

“Give me the matches.” He knew that for that moment that would be it, so he let go of your arm with a sigh and took out a small box out of his pocket.

You took it and moved to the other side of the gasoline heart.

You wiped your teeth with your hand, to which Touya raised his eyebrows, but when you took one match out of the box and lit it directly on your teeth, he did look impressed by your trick.

Touya lit his blue flame and both of you set ablaze the gasoline. The fire traveled from both sides, to meet in the middle and create more green-like color. From behind the flames, you were able to see just his silhouette. A beautiful, although terrifying (to some) imagery.

When the fire started spreading, you quickly moved to leave this place behind.

Again on the motorcycle, tightly embracing Touya’s torso, you looked back to stare at the rising flames. Colors mixed with each other, creating a picture any painter would be proud of.

Playing with fire was always thrilling, you just hoped none of you would get burned.

TAGLIST

@the-fandoms-georgie, @fanworrior, @gingerunicorn13, @theunicornnamedearl, @dabi-sunflower, @anniebromberg, @bakugouswh0r3, @ddsweetie

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inevitably-johnlocked · 3 years

Note

Hello Steph 😊 Do you have any BAMF Molly or just some good fics that feature Molly? I need some Molly love at the moment because I just read a fic where she "turns to the drak side" so to speak, and my heart 😭😭😭

Hey Nonny!

Ah I did a few comm. recs lists recently with Molly, but here are what I can offer you from memory, LOL. PLEASE add your fave Molly fics, guys! PLEASE NOTE these are fics I’ve read, and please check the sub-headings for a TONNE of stuff I haven’t read!! Big title so I can find it later LOL.

MOLLY PLAYS A ROLE

See also:

COMM RECS: Coming Out To Molly

COMM RECS: Molly with Women

COMM RECS: Molly and Greg Push John and Sherlock Together

COMM RECS: Molly as a Villain

Santa Knows by Itsallfine (T, 1,719 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas Party, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff, Matchmaking, POV Sherlock, Pining Sherlock) – Sherlock and John both get exactly what they want from the Yard's secret Santa exchange. Pure holiday fluff.

What John Doesn't Know (Won't Hurt Him) by blueink3 (NR [T], 4,392 w., 1 Ch, || S3 Fix It, Pining Sherlock, Snippets of Life, Hurt/Comfort, Scars, Fluff and Angst, Five and One, Hopeful Ending, POV Sherlock) – Five people who see Sherlock's scars before John Watson. But Sherlock's secrets were never something he could keep from his blogger for long.

Thirty Three Hours Without John Watson by Bookaholic, mybrotherharry (M, 6,232 w. || First Kiss / Time, Pining Idiots, BG Mystrade, Crackish) – Sherlock can SO TOTALLY survive without John Watson. It should be a piece of cake. AKA the time when Sherlock braved grocery store lines for milk, purchased and gave away a box of tampons and figured out what the X-Factor is. Greg and Mycroft didn’t sign up for this shit. Next time, they are going to the Bahamas.

Wonderful, Etcetera. by VictoryCandescence (T, 16,955 w., 3 Ch. || Wonderful Life AU || Alternate Timelines, Brotherhood, Homophobia, Suicidal Ideations, Mentions of Drug Use, Friendship, Different TRF, Sherlock’s Past, Victor Trevor is Past Boyfriend, Depression, Hallucination, Love Confessions, Christmas, First Kiss) – Sherlock thinks everyone would be better off if he had never existed, including and especially himself. When he finds himself in a world in which his wish has been granted, he begins to think perhaps even he could be wrong – but it takes an unlikely chaperone to make him not only observe, but understand.

Insanity in the Middle by DotyTakeThisDown (E, 28,010 w., 8 Ch. || Equestrian Sports AU || Alternate First Meeting, POV John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Clueless Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Passionate Kisses, Hand Holding, Caught Making Out, Bed Sharing, Spooning, Blow Job) – John is a world-class eventing rider with a gold medal and several four-star wins to his credit, but he's never won at Rolex. Sherlock is an up-and-coming rider taking the sport by storm.

Love or What You Will by miss_frankenstein (T, 31,987 w., 11 Ch. || College/Uni AU || Professor John, Ph.D Student Sherlock, Pining John, Poetry, Falling in Love / Slow Burn, Light Angst, Happy Ending) – John is an English professor who specializes in War and Post-War Literature and Sherlock is the brilliant yet impossible Ph.D. student assigned to be his TA because no one in the Chemistry Department is willing to put up with him. And - somewhere between Waugh and Plath, e-mails and takeaway, novels and villanelles - they fall in love.

The Wrong Wagon by DancingGrimm (E, 35,663 w., 20 Ch. || Alternating POV, Molly/ John [Molly pines for John], Public Sex, Casual Sex, Obliviousness, BAMF!John, Awkwardness, Angst & Humour, First Time, Virgin Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock) – Molly sees John in a new light and realises that she may have hitched her horse to the wrong wagon...or something like that. John pines for Sherlock and worries what he will think if he ever finds out. And Sherlock doesn't know what Molly's up to...but he knows he doesn't like it.

The Pieces That Fall to Earth by Itsallfine (M, 49,513 w., 84 Ch. || S4 Fix-It, Epistolary, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Parentlock, Past Abuse, Coming Out, Internalized Homophobia, Questioning Sexuality, Mental Health Issues / Therapy, Angst, Happy Ending) – John and Sherlock have hit rock bottom, but with all their armor stripped away, they can finally speak honestly, seek healing, and find the truths that matter most. An epistolary post-s4 fix-it fic. Now complete. (This fic is rated T except for one very clearly marked and easily skippable chapter, which is rated M.) Part 1 of The Pieces that Fall to Earth

floating through a dark blue sky by Lediona (M, 58,966 w., 15 Ch. || Notting Hill AU || POV John, Celebrity Sherlock, First Date / Time / Kiss, Past Drug Addiction, Angst with a Happy Ending) – Of course, I’d seen his films and always thought he was, well, brilliant -- but, you know, a million miles from the world I live in. Or, when John is the owner of a travel book shop and the famous Sherlock Holmes stops in one day.

This Thing All Things Devours by cypress_tree (E, 63,844 w., 15 Ch. || In Time AU || Science Fiction, Dystopian Universe, First Meetings, Action / Adventure, Romance) – In 2169, time is money—literally. Humans are genetically engineered to stop aging at 25, when the numbers on their arm start counting down from one year. When that time is up, they die. The only way to get more time is to earn it, borrow it, or steal it.John Watson lives day-to-day in the crowded slums of Zone 13. He never imagined living any differently—until he meets the practically-immortal Sherlock, and helps him on a case to track a local time-thief...

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU || BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

The Stars Move Still by BeautifulFiction (E, 96,022 w., 5 Ch. || Magical Realism, Demons, Slash to Pre-Slash, AU, Happy Ending, Souls) – "What could I want so desperately that would make me sell my soul? What could possibly compel me to surrender the part of myself that makes me who I am: the source of my magic, my self-control, everything?”

Definitions by siennna (T, 101,528 w., 12 of ? Ch. || Dev. Rel., Pining, Fluff and Romance, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Fluff, Cuddles, Girl’s Night, Texting, Virgin Sherlock, Drunk Sherlock, Background Mollstrade, Hair Petting, Laying on Lap) – Sherlock’s journey in defining his flat mate and stumbling through the muddled world of emotion. {{This feels complete; the chapter count is listed as ? but I feel like it is done}}

between each beat are words unsaid by darcylindbergh, hudders-and-hiddles (T, 107,998 w., 215 Ch. || Epistolary, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Angst, Happy Ending) – On their wedding night, John and Sherlock gift each other with the things they each said when the other could not hear, the things they each put down where the other could not see: a collection of writings that illustrate the way their love for one another has grown over the years. Part 1 of between each beat

The Burning Heart by May_Shepard (M, 119,150 w., 21 Ch. || Canon Divergence, Post-TRF, John’s Sexuality, S3 Rewrite, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV John Watson, John’s Gay) – When Sherlock dies, John Watson feels like his life is over too. He’s completely shut down, until Mark Morstan, a new nurse at John’s medical clinic, catches his attention, and helps him uncover the long buried truth of his attraction to men. Although he’s certain he’ll never get over Sherlock, John plans to move on, and build a new life with Mark, unaware that Sherlock is not quite as dead as he appears, and that Mark is hiding secrets of his own.

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Facial Shaving, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose... is it a pirate's life for him?

The Horse and his Doctor by khorazir (T, 129,003 w., 13 Ch. || Horse / Vet AU || Magical Realism, Horses, Vet John, Horse Sherlock, Implied Alcoholism) – Invalided after a run in with a poacher in Siberia, veterinary surgeon John Watson finds it difficult to acclimatise to the mundanity of London life. Things change when a friend invites him along to a local animal shelter and he meets their latest acquisition, a trouble-making Frisian with the strangest eyes and even stranger quirks John has ever encountered in a horse.

Performance In a Leading Role by Mad_Lori (E, 156,714 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Hollywood / Actor AU, Secret Relationship, Falling in Love, Slow Burn, Romance, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Pining) – Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world? Part 1 of Performance in a Leading Role

Mise en Place by azriona (M, 161,004 w., 28 Ch. || Restaurant (Kitchen Nightmares) AU || Sherlock is Gordon Ramsay / Celebrity Sherlock, Restauranteur John, Harry Plays Prominent Role, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, Cranky Sherlock, Bed Sharing, Slow Burn) – John Watson had no intentions of taking over the family business, but when he returns from Afghanistan, battered and bruised, and discovers that his sister Harry has run their restaurant into the ground, he doesn't have much choice. There's only one thing that can save the Empire from closing for good – the celebrity star of the BBC series Restaurant Reconstructed, Chef Sherlock Holmes. Part 1 of Mise en Place

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #molly fics #molly plays a role #my fic recs #Anonymous #long post

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archive-of-bones · 4 years

Note

Hello!! Would love to have a oneshot of perhaps a Modern Au with Childe and a GN reader~ The typical jock pining a quiet reserved student, but they always seem to back away from their advances. Not only were they unsure if Childe was genuine, but the bitchy girls of the uni were threatening em to stay away >< I just really wouldnlove more modern aus hahaha so i hope you dont mind but if its too much no need to force yourself~

[Oh lmao I sense drama in here, sorry if my answers will take a while. I still have schoolwork so my oneshots for answers are short--]

You slammed the locker door close once again, sighing as you faced the ever loving jock of the school; "Childe". At least that's what he always called himself, and what he wanted others to call him as too.

"What is it again?" You asked him, wary and tired from the constant threats you received and accumulated from months of having the ginger haired man chase after your tail.

"Just asking if you're free today, milady." He winked, one of his arms pinned beside your head. You were reluctant, and understandably so. "...." Your brows furrowed as you clutched the books in your arms tighter.

"Is it a yes or no?" His smile remained.

"I don't think I should, not today, Childe." You shook your head and avoided him for the rest of the day yet again, leaving him to want to gain your attention even further.

You don't really know if he's actually serious, or if he's simply playing with you. Lumine, another girl in class, a /beautiful/ girl in class had once been victim to his flirting until her brother intervened.

And so Childe's attention had shifted to you. The nerd of the class, the unfortunate person who became the punching bag of Childe's fanclub when they noticed his pining for you. You didn't want to do anything with him, but as months went by with his constant pestering and kind gestures, you did fall. Slowly but surely.

You realized you actually do love him, now all he has to prove is his part; was he serious or not?

Afternoon came, the school closed and you're headed for home. Your phone rang. "Hello? Who's this?" You immediately picked up. "It's me, Childe." The familiar voice of the jock from the other side of the line made you frown.

And when you looked up from the ground you saw him, leaning on a post with a bandage on his cheek. Your lips pursed in disapproval, he had gotten into a fight again hasn't he?

"Don't look at me like that." His smile is teasing as he put his phone down. "At least those annoying girls won't be bothering you again." His hands are bruised, and he made an attempt to hide them in his pockets.

"Please don't mess around." You mumbled, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Come with me, we're getting those bruises treated." You don't give him time to answer to you as you dragged him to your apartment, much to his surprise.

"So is that a yes for me?" He sounded excited, a little too excited for your answer as you finished wrapping his wounds up. Your heart trembled at the tone of his voice, how could you have the heart to say no this time?

"Fine, it's a yes." You don't question where he even got his injuries in the first place, it's an established knowledge that Childe does not have a pick in fighting people, he fights everyone. But even when you know of his tendency, you know that he'd never hurt you.

Childe laughed and then he tenderly kissed your lips as if it's the best reward he got from a hard fight, and in a way it really was. You kissed him back, unable to hold a genuine smile for too long as you bask in each other's presence.

The next day there are no girls bothering you anymore as you held hands with Childe, thankfully without anyone insulting you or your relationship with him anymore.

Childe had been serious in pursuit of you, because ever since he saw you with his younger brother and getting along when you came into his house to study, as cheesy as it sounded, something just clicked. Something right just clicked, and he doesn't regret the amount of effort he had exerted just for you to say yes.

#genshin childe #childe x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact oneshot #modern au #Genshin Tartaglia

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sushiburritonoms · 3 years

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My fingers slipped and I wrote @sadiebwrites a little bit more of the library AU instead of doing adult things or answering the other prompts. It's not really tied together in any narrative and it's 100% self-indulgent fluff. I really spent way too many years in libraries, folks. Sorry, I'll get to the other requests soon!

Previous library AU ficlet here.

“Being a librarian is my dream job,” Ms. Mothma admitted as Luke helped put the last of her romance novels into her bag. “To be surrounded by books every day sounds so wonderful. You must read all the time.”

Luke tilted his head and desperately tried to think of the last time he’d read an actual book and not a Horn Book review on the latest trends in YA Lit or a publisher’s summary of a title. Did picture books count? He read a lot of those, over and over again until he had the lines memorized and he could recite the story without looking while he moved tiny hungry caterpillars and angry pigeons across his felt board for inattentive 4-year-olds. Actual fiction...well there were the tabs of Sherlock Holmes/John Watson fanfiction that sat unread in his browser at home. Did webcomics count? He read the latest Ngozi post last night, right before he fell asleep with his mobile phone still in his hand and Artoo purring on his chest.

“All the time,” he lied as he handed her the last book. “Real dream come true.”

Later when he texts his bestie from grad school, he is reassured that he’s not that bad of a librarian.

haven’t read a 📖for fun in 📅 Ezra texts back. last 1 finished was for our uni’s common read program 📚🤭😊

“I was going to read a chapter of Chernow’s Hamilton biography,” Tionne told him at lunch, “but instead I rewatched Gossip Girl and drank a lot of white wine.” Luke approved of her life choice.

“Books?” Dak stared at him with a blank face, with one of his earbuds looking like it was about to make a bid for freedom from his head.

“Nevermind,” Luke sighed.

But of course, there’s always one overachiever on staff.

“Of course. I always make time to read, my young apprentice,” Obi-Wan said when Luke interrupted his daily chat with retired Head Librarian Jinn. “Would you like some recommendations? I could send you my Good Reads account.”

“You know he’s not that young anymore,” Qui-Gon reminded him. “Nor are you. Perhaps you should be spending less time with your head in books and more time out there in the real world.”

“Hmmm, I suppose I would take your suggestion seriously if you weren’t haunting the very building you retired from three years ago,” Obi-Wan argued as he adjusted his delicate wire-rim glasses on his face.

“Perhaps it is not the building that brings me back, but the company, my dear former colleague.”

“Hmm perhaps.”

Luke tiptoed away with a silly smile on his face. Old people in love are so cute, even if Obi-Wan was an insufferable perfect librarian.

-----

On weekdays, when Luke was not lying to kind older ladies from the City Council, he was often hiding from his mortal enemies.

“Din! Hide me.” Luke ducked into the Children’s Room reference desk and waved his crush over with a grim look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Luke was slightly impressed and slightly worried when he saw Din’s hand automatically drift towards his waistband, in search of a weapon. Their State was NOT open carry, but that was Future-Luke’s problem.

“The Imperial Solutions vendor is here,” Luke hissed. “They want me to be the majority vote to petition the county to switch to D. Star and I refuse, Din. I REFUSE.”

“I have no idea what any of that means,” Din replied.

“Imperial Solutions is evil and they’re gonna own us all!”

Din opened his mouth to reply but before he could say anything, a deep freeze fell upon the Children’s Room. Small infants started to wail and toddlers dropped their blocks and looked up in helpless confusion.

“Ah Mr. Skywalker,” a smarmy voice calls out. “There you are, young man.”

“Hello Mr. Gideon,” Luke mutters. “It’s a ...pleasure to see you again.”

“I was in the neighborhood and I thought I’d drop by to see if you had considered last week’s presentation.” Mr. Gideon had the biggest, fakest smile to ever don a human’s face. He looked like just being inside of the Children’s Room was causing him to melt. But then Imperial vendors were never children--they were hatched from some dark dank cave in Illinois.

A three-hour presentation. Yeah, Luke had considered it right out of his head.

“Oh ah...gosh Mr. Gideon, it was a long...long...presentation and I’ve been so busy. In fact, I’m so, so, sorry but I’m kind of in the middle of something.” He gestured to Din, standing in front of the reference desk.

Din glared at Gideon for a moment before he slowly sat down on the patron’s side of the reference desk. “Ah...right. I need a book. For my kid.”

“Great! What’s the title of the book?” Luke said as he saw Gideon roll his eyes.

“I don’t remember, but I know the cover is red,” Din replied. There was a sparkle of mischief in his eyes. “Then after we find that book, I need all the books about whale sharks. In Spanish. Can you help me?”

“Of course! So sorry, Mr. Gideon! If you have to go I understand!” Luke shrugged helplessly. “This is gonna take a while!”

The two of them kept their heads buried over Luke’s shared screen until Gideon stomped away. Then they fell apart laughing.

“Whale sharks?” Luke giggled. “Why whale sharks?”

“They are the biggest fish in the ocean and their mouths are 5 feet wide,” Din said robotically, obviously quoting from something.

“Grogu’s into sharks now?”

“Blame Baby Shark,” Din groaned and laid his head on Luke’s desk.

Oh God. Luke winced and reached over to massage Din’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

“Do do do dodododo,” Din hummed tunelessly.

Luke is going to have that damn song back in his head for the next year...but he’ll sing the song for library staff karaoke night if it means he gets to keep rubbing Din’s shoulder AND be protected from Gideon at the same time. He’s got a mean singing voice after all.

#If I got Baby Shark in your head right now I'm SO SORRY #But you see I've had that song in my head for years #I live like this everyday #Also please dont ask book sellers or librarians if we read a lot #we're just as busy as the rest of y'all and sometimes its Gossip Girl Night #There's always one librarian on staff that has read everything #nobody likes you Obi-Wan #Except Qui-Gon #really my fanfic is just free therapy I subject y'all to #you're welcome

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dewykth · 4 years

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SWEET SEPTEMBER.

a @periminkle and @dewykth collaboration.

synopsis. for many, september symbolizes new beginnings. but for namjoon, this month never fails to send him back into the past. though this time, something seems different.

pairing. kim namjoon | female reader contains. fluff, angst, slice of life au, ballet instructor!reader, single dad!nj word count. 7.5k+ warnings. death mentions, mature audience

dae’s note. surprise !!! this fic is dedicated to my favourite virgo karla @guklvr !! happy birthday bae i hope you enjoy this lil thing me n vira whipped up for u!! (i stress wrote a lot of this ha.) also sry for lying & keeping you up but hopefully this makes u forgive me. but i hope ur day goes amazing ILYSM DUDE !!! <333 and a huge thank you to vira for hopping on board for this idea bc i cld not have done this without her !!! pls give her all the love !!!

vira’s note. KARLAAAA!!! i always gotta scream ur name it’s mandatory to start with a good scream ykno? bUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRL 🥳 i already told u this too many times today but ILYSM !! like that full day without saying a single word to u felt so weird and i kept going into our chat and rereading our mssgs and wishing I was talking to u??? which is weird to admit?? but that literally how much i missed u idk how but im addicted to u so if you leave me I will literally die :))) aNYWAY have the bestestestest day ever and i hope u love the fic bc I ignored all my uni work to finish this !!! (also i feel reallyreallyreally bad about last night sO IM SORRY AGAIN BUT I HOPE THIS IS WORTH IT) 💖

Despite the papers carelessly stuffed into his leather briefcase, the dark coffee stain on his black slacks, and his unkempt locks resembling that of a bird’s nest, Namjoon’s become accustomed to the hectic nature of his mornings.

The kitchen table is practically buried under stacks of files, yet he brushes them aside to allow one corner of the glass surface to peek through. He plops the toddler in his arms onto a high chair before racing to the counter and sloppily pouring some honey nut cheerios into a small bowl, handing it off to his daughter.

“Daddy?” her voice squeaks, a patient smile stretching across her lips. Her brown strands are tied up into pigtails at the crown of her head with pink ribbons that flutter with the movement of her tiny head.

“Yes, angel?” He scurries around to their bedroom, peeling the stained fabric off his body and threading one leg through another pair of slacks fresh from the laundry.

With Namjoon’s focus pinned on checking off the mental to-do list in his head, he misses the gentle, reassuring smile that stretches across her rosy lips. The adoration for her father is clear in her gaze. “You forgot to pour the milk.”

At the reminder, he squawks and hops back to the kitchen on one foot as he maneuvers his other leg through the pant hole. Swinging the fridge door open, he grabs the carton and sloppily pours the milk into her bowl—white droplets leaping out with their newfound freedom and forming perfect domes on the glass tabletop.

Cleaning the mess falls to the bottom of his priorities at the moment, and so he speeds off to the bathroom to ensure that his appearance is presentable for work while Dasom reaches over to pluck a tissue from the box, swiping the milky beads away before diving into her breakfast. She shoves as many cheerios into her small mouth as she can, rushing because she refuses to finish her meal in the car with their wild driver behind the wheel.

Despite her mere four years of age, she knows from experience that a bowl of cereal and a shaky vehicle is a recipe for disaster.

Namjoon races over to his briefcase with most of his hair sleeked back, only the locks of his bangs hanging out to frame his forehead. As he slips his dark blazer on to complete his form-fitting suit, Dasom scoops the last few brown rings into her mouth and slurps the remainder of the liquid.

“Did you finish your milk?” he questions while cramming the edges of the loose leaves that peek past the seam of his briefcase, hurriedly zipping it up and turning to face her.

Dasom flips the edge of the bowl up to display its empty contents, gulping the last of her breakfast down her throat. As per routine, she scans her father for any inconsistencies in his attire, landing on his odd fitting bottoms.

“Daddy, your pants are on backwards.”

His eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, glancing down to affirm that the pockets at his sides are no longer at the front of his hips. Hastily, he shimmies out of his slacks once more and twists the fabric around to the proper orientation.

Dasom hops off her chair, her bowl and wet kleenex in hand as she waddles over to the sink and waits for him to deposit the dirty dish into the sink and the sullied tissue into the trash. Although her short arms couldn’t reach over the countertop just yet, she’ll diligently drink every last drop of her milk in hopes of growing tall enough to take some of the load off of her father’s back.

He hoists Dasom up at the sight of the red car pulling up to the driveway, squeezing into the back seat. Namjoon doesn’t have to tell the driver to book it, as the calm man in front has learned to keep his foot pressed on the pedal. The car weaves through the morning traffic with concerning speed, snaking through the other vehicles littering the road as if they were no more than stationary pylons, simply there for practice.

Dasom remains on her father’s lap with his arms looped protectively around the seatbelt over her torso. She sinks into his embrace, fiddling around with his long, slender fingers as she watches the blurs of colour speeding past the window.

“Did you put your ballet shoes into your backpack, angel?” Namjoon loosens his grip on her, unhooking one hand to rummage through his own briefcase in order to confirm that he had indeed slid his laptop within the chaos inside. To keep her entertained, he playfully extends his digits out of her reach.

“Of course!” she chirps, a wide grin revealing the gaps between her teeth. The pads of her fingertips brush against his palm and tickle the sensitive skin there when she realizes that her arms lack the length required to latch onto his hand. “I can’t wait for class, we’ve got a new teacher coming in today!”

Humming absentmindedly, he sighs in relief at the sight of the silver device and packs the crumpled papers back in. “What happened to Ms. Kim?”

“She’s teaching the older class now.” The pout on her lips can be heard within the muffled lilt of her voice when she continues, “I asked her to stay until my birthday next week b-but she didn’t.”

Namjoon’s breath hitches at the reminder, but attempts to compose himself for his daughter’s sake. “It’s out of her control, angel, plus she’ll probably swing by anyway.”

His mind starts to fog up with the emotions he thought he buried last year–they swarm his every thought and nibble away at his sanity. He knows better than to believe that they would ever disappear. September will always be an insurmountable month for him.

“I might be a bit late to pick you up later, just sit tight and wait for Daddy, okay?”

She eagerly nods in response, noticing the dull red bricks of her school coming into view. “Okay, bye Daddy!”

Namjoon unlocks the seatbelt, wistfully watching his toddler bounce out of his arms and onto the asphalt below. No matter how many times he drops her off, it’s always difficult to be separated from her bright smile, but he reminds himself that it’s all for her; it makes things a little easier to bear.

“Have a good day at school.” He reciprocates her frantic waving through the window, craning his neck to watch her adorable form become smaller and smaller with the increased distance. Her full cheeks and crinkled eyes are engraved into the back of his mind.

Before long, Namjoon finds himself rushing into his office after an earful from his surly boss about everything from the late hour to the long list of meetings scheduled to all the work he’s got piled up. With his lips pursed and his head bowed, he somehow manages to make it past another lively morning.

Namjoon has a habit of overthinking. He figures it’s normal when you have a stressful job and a four year old full of energy to balance all by yourself. Not that overthinking about his daughter does him any good, because that is far from the reality. If anything, it just makes him, what you’d call, a bit... overprotective (over worrisome if you asked Jin). But it’s something he can’t really help. Even when she had just entered his life, so small and so blissfully unaware of the awful and evil things in the world, all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms and shield her from it all as long as he could.

Though he’s very aware of the fact that it won’t be much longer, that won’t stop him from going over every single little thing that could go wrong in the meantime.

So, of course, when Namjoon’s asshole of a boss makes him stay two hours over his shift, all Namjoon can think about is Dasom. Is she okay? Has she eaten anything? Did she drink enough water today? She’s always dehydrated after her classes too. He usually calls Ms. Kim to check up on her, but his calls went straight to voicemail, which definitely wasn’t helping his hectic mind. Perhaps something had happened to her?

Oh god, maybe someone broke in and had injured Dasom?

The doors are thrown open, the sound of the doorknob hitting the wall reverberating through the room. The receptionist wearing her usual polka-dot dress jumps in her seat, eyes lifting from the intense scene on her phone to the entrance of the building. An unsure smile stretches across her ruby red lips at the familiar figure, though a bit disheveled and breathless. But before the customary ‘hello’ can even form on her tongue, the figure is rushing past her, leaving only a gust of air in his wake. The papers on her desk fall to the ground, and she sighs.

Namjoon is prepared to fight the (fictional) person who thinks breaking into a toddler ballet class is a good idea, but the scene in front of him once he pushes past the doors of the studio is one he is wholly unprepared for.

He sees Dasom first, and the relief that fills his body is indescribable. It’s far from the usual sight he’s greeted with when he picks her up late. She’s not sitting on one of the chairs in the far corner of the room. His heart doesn’t feel heavy, which comes with seeing his daughter so glum. This time it’s her laughter that greets him, not one provoked by him but by the figure standing in the middle of the room with her.

Dasom doesn’t seem to be aware of the presence of her dad yet, but the figure twirling her around turns, and her eyes land on Namjoon.

The reaction is immediate. The carefree smile that had been on your face slips off, a look of embarrassment and surprise overcoming your features. Namjoon only catches a glimpse, and somehow finds himself wishing that won’t be the last time he sees it. You let go of Dasom’s hand, quickly making your way to the stereo on the other side of the room. And that’s when-

“Daddy!”

Dasom wastes no time running into her father’s open arms, and Namjoon suddenly can’t remember why he was so worried in the first place. “Hi, angel.” he says, just loud enough for her to hear. She pulls back. “I’m so sorry for getting here so late. I promise i won’t do it again.”

But of course, Dasom holds nothing but forgiveness in her heart for her hard-working father. She does love teasing him, though. “Don't say sorry to me, say sorry to her.” she giggles, pointing behind her and Namjoon furrows his brow until he remembers they’re not the only ones in the room.

His eyes immediately move to where you stand awkwardly near the stereo, eyes moving around the room as if you hadn’t been watching the whole exchange. Namjoon sighs, realizing he definitely can’t avoid talking to you now. He stands straight, holding onto Dasom’s hand as he makes his way over to you. You only seem to grow more nervous as he nears, and Namjoon distantly recalls Jin telling him he came off as intimidating to most people. Something about his ‘beefy’ arms, in his own words. (“And that stupid and unfairly attractive face!”) He goes for a smile because it's not like he can control his physique.

“Hi, I’m so sorry about…”

Namjoon stops.

Maybe it was the overwhelming distress before, or the really shitty lighting of the studio, but he hadn’t realized how pretty you were before. But now he’s standing right in front of you and he can’t seem to form a coherent thought. Pretty can’t be the right word. He realizes how creepy he probably looks, running in here like a madman and then downright staring at the (very beautiful) woman who looked after his daughter? Not cool, man.

You clear your throat, before extending a hand to him. “Hi, I’m ____, the new ballet instructor.”

Your voice sounds just like honey.

Namjoon stares at your hand dumbly, before the sound of Dasom snickering (very discreetly) behind him snaps him out of it. But instead of introducing himself, or apologizing, or just taking your fucking hand, he says-

“What happened to Ms. Kim?”

He mentally face-palms.

Not. Cool. Man.

Your face falls, and Namjoon has never wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole more than he does now. “Uh, she’s instructing the teen class now.” you chuckle awkwardly, dropping your hand.

“Oh-”

“Daaaad,” Dasom's voice sounds annoyed, and perhaps it’s a bit silly of Namjoon to feel like he’s being scolded, but that is exactly how he feels right now. “I told you this. In the morning. Remember?”

He doesn’t. “Ah, right of course,” Namjoon scratches the back of his neck. It wasn’t like he meant to forget, he had just been too busy thinking about the other things every September would bring. “Sorry, I’m Kim Namjoon. Dasom’s dad.”

This time he offers his hand, and he thanks the skies above that you don’t seem to hate him because you fit your hand against his. Warm, like honey. How long had it been since he last made a fool of himself in front of a pretty girl?

Too long.

“I’m terribly sorry for arriving so late it’s just that my boss, who’s a huge-” Namjoon glances at Dasom, who is now in her own world, singing some song she learned in school, “jerk, decided to assign these reports last minute and the printer would just not work and then traffic hour-”

Your hand comes up to cover your mouth, but Namjoon can see the amusement bubbling in your eyes. He flushes a deep red, eyes falling to the floor, realizing he started ranting.

“It’s okay. Really.”

When he looks back up, there’s a smile on your face. Not like the one before, this one was more reserved, but genuine, reassuring. And just like that, he’s sure you don’t hate him.

Namjoon’s not sure he likes this feeling though.

“Straighten your arms out, girls!” you belt over the classical music that floods the studio’s walls, scanning your army of toddlers in tutus whose arms immediately tense at your command. Making your way through the row, you poke and prod everywhere from their shoulders to their ankles. “Arch your back more, Somin.”

Their muscles violently tremble in response to the strenuous routine you’ve introduced, facial features scrunched in concentration and a resolute will to uphold their positions despite the hyperextension of their limbs. A mix of pity and pride swells in your chest at their effort. “Keep your chins up, the annual recital is only a couple of days away.”

Cheers erupt throughout the small room, disrupting the focus and spoiling their perfect form, yet you refuse to quiet excitement because of the renewed vigour buzzing throughout the room. The next hour depletes all of their built-up energy with demi-piles, pirouettes and sautés.

A glance at the analog clock in the corner informs you of the five minutes remaining before the end of class, so you pause the speakers and instruct the girls to stretch themselves out as they wait for their guardians to trickle in. They collectively sigh in relief before dropping to the floor like flies.

You snort at their dramatics with an amused smile playing at your lips. “I said to stretch, not to lay down and nap.”

“Can’t we nap and stretch at the same time?”

Strolling over to the source of the voice, you cluck your tongue at her limp form sprawled across the wooden floor and cross your arms, struggling to keep your giggles from breaking your angered facade. “And how do you suppose we do that, little Miss Dasom?”

She flashes her toothless grin up at you. “Like this!” With one leg bent over the other and her hands looping around to hold her twisted limbs to her torso, she shuts her eyes and exaggerates her snores.

At this point, it’s nearly impossible to withhold your snickers, and the rest of the class joins in your laughter. You pick up on Dasom’s tinkling giggles between each of her heavy breaths. The lighthearted jokes continue as kids are signed out with bright grins on each of their faces.

You wait for the rest of the toddlers to file out one by one, waving goodbye and checking them off your list until, as usual, Dasom is the only toddler left. Her tiny feet still clad in her faded ballet shoes waddle up to you, tugging on your blouse.

“Your pirouette was a bit wobbly today, do you want to go over—”

“‘M tired,” she interrupts, slouching her shoulders with an adorable frown marring her lips. Her exhaustion is justified, since the routine is rather exhausting, and with their recital right around the corner, you worked them to the bone today.

The odd timing of the switch between you and Ms. Kim left you with a little under a week to tweak and perfect their current choreography. A sloppy routine is not the way you want to present your skills to their parents for the first time, thus you were stricter with the kids than normal.

Your sympathy wins out, and so you gather Dasom’s lithe figure into your arms as you head to the closest wall. With your back supported, you spread out your legs and place her in your lap.

“My birthday is this Thursday.”

“Mhm,” you hum, bobbing your head to signal for her to continue her train of thought.

Her back faces you, but when her head tips down to stare at her hands, you know she’s contemplating her words carefully. Rather than encouraging her to speak freely, you wait for her to feel comfortable enough to reveal her thoughts; and surely enough, her shell cracks open just enough for you to peep through. “Do you wanna come?”

“I would be honoured.” A giddy smile splits across your lips. “Is Daddy picking you up again today?”

She flips around in your hold, wrapping her arms around your waist and snuggling her head to your chest. Her words are muffled into the fabric of your thin shirt, but her tone indicates her affirmation.

Suddenly self-conscious of your heartbeat—that Dasom can definitely hear with her ear pressed up against you—picking up pace at the mention of her father, you suppress your thoughts with a guilty conscience. You internally chide yourself for harbouring feelings for the charming, taken, man, defying arguably one of the most important fundamental rules of becoming an instructor.

Do not develop silly crushes on your student’s parents.

“Ms. ____?” her faint question snaps you out of your reverie, attention brought back to the present moment. While preoccupied, your hand took on a mind of its own, gingerly patting the space between the little girl’s shoulder blades at a slow rhythm.

She gazes up at you when you halt your rhythmic movements, sharp eyes boring into yours. “Are you gonna ask Daddy to come see me dance?”

The edges of your lips flip up in what you hope to be an encouraging smile as you nod your head. Subconsciously, you begin to stress over another encounter with Namjoon, formulating a script to hopefully avoid the stiff, tense atmosphere that lingered throughout all your previous interactions.

“Daddy’s always really busy,” she slurs, drowsiness coating her words and weighing down on her lids. Grumbling under her breath about her numb legs, Dasom crawls onto the floor beside you with her head resting on your thigh. “He’s always working hard for me.”

Your eyes soften at the fetal position she’s taken up on the ground; not only was Dasom lucky to have such a dedicated father, but Namjoon was also blessed with a caring daughter. “You don’t think he can make it?”

“It’s okay,” she whispers and you have to crane your ears to listen. You stroke the strands littering her forehead, gingerly caressing the crown of her head. “It’s okay if Daddy can’t come. I know him, he’s trying to do it all because Mommy’s not with us anymore, but it’s okay. I still love him even if I can’t see him lots.”

A knot forms between your eyebrows, a bittersweet ache forming within the creases of your heart. The painful constriction of your chest ebbs and flows with your shallow breaths that can’t seem to make it past your throat. You bite your lip to subdue the plentiful liquid gathering at your waterline.

No more than a croak escapes your lips before the door to the studio flies open, meeting the adjacent wall with a bang!

“I’m so sorry, my meeting ran late and I couldn’t—” the rest of his speech gets stuck in his windpipe at the sight of you, eyes rimmed red and sniffling, with Dasom, ostensibly dead asleep, on your thigh. “Did she…?”

You blink away your incoming tears, although your dignity has been completely thrown out the window, seeing as he believes that his four-year-old kid made a grown woman, who just so happens to be her ballet teacher, bawl her eyes out.

As you go to gently shake Dasom awake, she sluggishly lifts her head off of your lap and starts to scale your torso like a koala on a tree. Your confusion is vocalized through the high-pitched hum in your throat, but your efforts to pry off her limbs, tightly wound around the small of your waist, are futile.

“Uh, Dasom? It’s time to go home now, angel.” Despite his firm words, Namjoon’s tone is unsure and shaky; he can feel cold sweat build up in the lines of his palms. He knows his daughter, and she can be periodically stubborn and insistent the way children are at her age, thus even as you come to stand, she’s stuck to you like glue. “Would you, uh, did you need a ride?”

You mimic the sheepish smile on his face, hoping the flaming blush you feel on your cheeks isn’t as visible as it seems. “Sure.”

With Dasom latched onto you, both of you make your way to the red car outside after you lock up the studio. Namjoon courteously opens the car door for you, what with your arms supporting his clingy toddler; although, with the brute force he uses, you worry for the state of the hinges. Thankfully, they stay intact and he’s able to slip into the backseat after you.

Before an awkward silence can settle, you clear your throat and prepare to ask him about his day, but you’re interjected by Namjoon’s sudden stammering, “D-driving’s such a hassle for me so Jin drives us everywhere. Jin knows how to drive though, so, don’t worry.” He finishes with a deep chuckle that dies off nearly as quickly as it began. Oh, that’s unexpected.

“You don’t to drive yourself?” Rather than being processed in your brain and logically thought through, the question immediately enters your mouth without any prior scanning for dumbass-content. You instantly regret it, feeling as though it’s much too invasive. “You don’t have to answer that, I—”

The hearty laughter that meets your ears is “No, I do. Sometimes. But its easier raising this one like this.” His tone turns sweet at the mention of Dasom as he reaches over to pat her head, and you’re overcome with an intense desire to prod more into his personal life. Why does he have to work so much? Which shirt in his closet is his favourite? How does he like his eggs in the morning?

“I’m not sure if you already knew about the annual recital on Saturday, but Dasom’s been practicing really hard for weeks and the kids are all really talented, so it would definitely be worth your time...”

As he’s gazing at his daughter, galaxies of devotion and longing swirl within his cocoa irises. The cool light of the moon shines through the windows of the car, illuminating his sharp jawline and strong brows. You’re absolutely mesmerized by the sight in front of you. “You must be really busy, huh?”

“More than I’d like to be.”

You rip your entranced gaze away from Namjoon, willing yourself to steady your frantic breaths.

The remainder of the ride still drips with awkward tension, although with a definite lighter tone than before. Jin pulls up to your apartment with your direction and you dislodge a sleepy Dasom from your torso, which is much easier now that her limbs have gone slack with sleep. Handing her off to Namjoon, who practically engulfs her tiny form with his broad chest, you rush out of the vehicle with a quick, “See you!”

You slam the door closed before he can say anything, racing into the comfort of your home with your heart in your throat.

The last thing you had expected to do on a Thursday evening was to go to a birthday dinner. Thursdays are your days off, your in-days. The ones you spend lounging on your couch with a face mask and some wine. And yet, here you are.

When you received a text this morning, the last person you had expected it to be was Namjoon. Much less Namjoon asking you to come over for Dasom’s birthday. You weren’t going to say yes, hell, you had thought of downright ignoring it. It was weird, wasn’t it? But Dasom had quickly carved a toddler-shaped hole into your heart. Truly, you had said yes before the message was even typed out.

And so now you stare at the tall apartment building in front of you, definitely feeling more nervous than before. You knew that Namjoon had to be well-off to afford a weekday chauffeur, but damn did you not expect him to be this well-off.

It seemed today was the day to expect absolutely anything.

You enter the opulent building, signing in at the front desk before entering the large, mirrored elevator. The beating of your heart picks up the more floors you pass, and you can’t help but fidget with your appearance. Namjoon had said it would only be you three, which you guessed was supposed to calm your nerves but really, it did anything but that. The mere thought of eating dinner with Namjoon was nerve-wracking. But now you were about to eat dinner and enter his home; you had no fucking clue what you were getting yourself into.

The doors slide open, and you step into the hallway. A single door could be seen at the end of the hallway, so you quickly make your way over. You stop right in front, taking a deep breath in before pushing the doorbell. A beat, a crash, another beat, then-

The door swings open, and your breath catches in your throat.

Namjoon looks heavenly as always, but seeing him in clothes other than his usual black slacks makes your heart do a cartwheel. God, this is dangerous.

“Ms. ____!”

Before Namjoon can form a hello, Dasom is running past him and wrapping her small arms around your legs. “You came! See daddy! I told you she’d come.” her tongue pokes out of her mouth, aimed straight at her father and you stifle a laugh.

��Did he think I wouldn’t?” you ask, eyebrow arched as you glance at Namjoon, who seems to have a permanent pink hue on his face.

“He said you wouldn’t!”

“Oh, really? What else did he say?”

“He said I had to help him clean either way!”

“Alright, Dasom. That’s enough.” He says firmly, clearing his throat and trying to act as unaffected as possible. His eyes shift to meet yours. “Why don’t you come inside?”

As much as this day really sucked for Namjoon, today had been… different. Not all too much. Of course, getting up was the hardest part, but he had decided to make Dasom her favourite breakfast meal instead of her usual cereal. He had also made sure to get her all the toys she had been wanting, and planned their day out to do Dasom’s favourite things. Namjoon just wanted this day to be special for her. That was all he cared about.

But when Dasom had asked him to invite you, he had hesitated.

Dasom had never spent her birthdays with anyone else but Namjoon. Not that it was intentional, but Namjoon liked to have this day just for the both of them. Because that’s how it’s always been. He didn’t know what it was about you that made his daughter talk about you all the time. Or why she wanted to spend a birthday with you. But how could he deny her? And so, the text was sent.

And now, as Namjoon puts away the dishes while you sit on his couch, he realizes he hadn’t thought of her today. Not as much as the years before. Dinner had been so... nice. It felt nice to have someone else around. Namjoon loves Dasom, but he hadn’t realized how distant he had gotten from everything that had once seemed to be the centre of his life.

Namjoon closes the dishwasher, exiting the kitchen and making his way to the living room. He places the two glasses on the table before pouring the dark red liquid.

“I hope you like Merlot.”

“Oh, please. Anything’s fine.”

You take the wine glass, sending him a thank you before taking a drink. “So,” you lean back, “remind me how to play this again.”

“Ms.____ I told you. You have to take a block without knocking the tower over,” Dasom shows you by pushing a middle wooden block out, “then you have to place it on top, like this.'' She places the same block on top of the tower.

“Ah, right! I just need to make sure if I want to win.”

“You can’t! I’m the best!”

“Oh really? And what about you?” you turn, brow raised and eyes playful.

“Pshh,” he scoffs, leaning forward. “Who do you think she takes after?”

He doesn’t think he’s ever lost a game so quickly.

Namjoon watches as you close Dasom’s door quietly from the hallway before you make your way back to the family room. “She’s out like a light. I guess all that tower building got to her.”

Namjoon snorts. He feels oddly disappointed as he watches you gather your things to go. Was it weird that he wanted you to stay? “Do you need me to get you a ride? I can call Jin to drive you home.”

“No, it’s fine! Really! I already ordered an Uber anyway.” You grab your coat near the door. Before Namjoon can unlock the door, you touch his shoulder. “Listen, thank you for inviting me today. I know you probably wanted to spend this day together instead, but I... “ you inhale, because you aren’t sure of what you want to actually say “thank you.”

Would it be weird to say how much better you made today? Probably. “You don’t… have to thank me. I think I should be the one doing the thanking. I really wanted this day to be special for Dasom and you… you definitely helped. So, thank you.”

The door opens, and the light of the hallway fills his dim flat. “Guess we’re even then.” you smile before turning, making your way to the elevator. Namjoon shuts the door once the sight of you is gone, but the smile on his face remains

“Guess we are.” he whispers wistfully

Perhaps stopping at a flower vendor when you’re already running late was a bad idea, but Namjoon wasn’t thinking about time. He had seen the bouquet of flowers and imagined the huge smile that would stretch across Dasom’s face, and that was all he needed to swerve into the left lane.

Now, though, as he anxiously watches the cars in front of him move a foot forward after thirty minutes, he’s sure he should have just left the fucking flowers alone.

Namjoon doesn’t know how long he’s been shifting his eyes from the traffic to the watch ticking around his wrist, but by a miracle, the cars start moving. Slowly, then he’s speeding down the highway, praying to the skies above he’ll make it in time. Even if he arrives in the midst of the dance, he can’t miss this recital. He won’t.

He sighs in relief when he sees the familiar glass building, though it’s cut short when he sees the parking lot. No available place in sight. Fuck. Namjoon is sure he looks insane right now, swerving around the parking lot in search for an empty spot, or really just any fucking spot that looks like it could fit his monster of a car.

Then the clouds seem to open up, and right near the entrance is a vacant spot. Namjoon swears his mouth almost waters at the sight. Quickly speeding around the lot, he parks, but not before flipping off the angry parent who tries to beat him to it. Namjoon exits his car, quickly grabbing his coat and the large bouquets of flowers from the backseat. He runs to the entrance, practically throwing the shriveled paper at the ticket clerk.

Namjoon slows as he nears the theatre doors, taking a deep breath before calmly opening it. He had completely forgotten to book seats in advance, so he’s not surprised to see the velvet seats filled to the brim. When he looks to the stage, he’s relieved to see that there’s still time until Dasom comes on.

Now, Namjoon knows he’s not the most… balanced person. It’s common knowledge that he trips over his feet and knocks things over sometimes. (Oh, but definitely more than the average person.) Now, if you were to ask Namjoon if he pays attention to his surroundings, he'd say yes.

But if you were to ask Namjoon what he tripped over, he wouldn’t know. It doesn’t matter, because now there’s a furious mother with a horrendous bob cut glaring at him, and what he thinks to be a broken camcorder on the floor. The only thing he can manage is an awkward smile and an even more awkward apology. Namjoon offers to give her the cost for repairs, hell, even offers to buy her a new one. The woman snatches the bills from his hands but she doesn’t go back to minding her business like he thought she would. No, instead she starts to argue with him, in the middle of her child’s recital, no less!

Namjoon can’t do anything but stare at her as she blabbers on about how horrible he is for throwing her camcorder on the floor. (Not like it had much life left, that thing looked like it was from 2007.) She’s damn near spitting on his face, and causing other parents to turn around and glare at them. As if it was his fault. Who knew she had such an attachment to the damn thing!

A hand lands on his shoulder, and for a second he’s sure it’s security ready to escort him out of the building. But when he turns, he’s surprised to see it’s you. Like an angel had ascended from the clouds to save Namjoon from the wrath of a ballet mom. And just like that, you’re leading him away, taking a seat two rows before the stage. Namjoon’s eyes widen at the sight of the empty seat beside you.

It’s that feeling again, and Namjoon’s palms start to get sweaty as he takes a seat. “Jesus, thank you for that,” he whispers, relishing your quiet laughter that follows.

“Of course. She was probably a blink away from going full-blown Karen on you.” you tease.

“Oh, and that wasn’t?”

“Oh, Joon, you haven’t seen how angry ballet moms can get.” you both laugh, huddled together as if you’re sharing a special secret. It seems so natural. As if this is where he’s supposed to be. So much that Namjoon almost doesn’t catch the nickname, but how could he miss it when you say it just like she used to?

The stage lights darken, and Namjoon is grateful for the excuse to look elsewhere. He’s sure if he would have stared at you for just a bit longer, he would have done something completely and utterly stupid. “This is her.” you whisper, and Namjoon buries the thought away.

A blue hue shines across the stage before the soft melody begins to play, filling the room with the sounds of strings and keys. One by one, tiny swans begin to come into view, prancing around the stage. Namjoon catches sight of Dasom, looking adorable in her white tutu and he can’t help the proud smile that makes its way onto his face. He watches with adoration as she does her pirouettes, and maybe there’s some water overflowing in his eyes as they finish their dance, bowing towards the audience.

You both stand, clapping and cheering the loudest, uncaring of the stares from the snobby rich parents because you’re both too damn proud of Dasom to care. For a moment, Namjoon pretends that it’s different, simpler. That it’s not only his child on stage but yours. Ours. He thinks he likes the sound of that too much.

Once the show ends, you lead Namjoon backstage where the buzz of dozens of girls talking fills the air. You tell him that you need to check in on the other kids and disappear through a hallway. He spots Dasom quickly, or rather, she spots him.

“Daddy! You came!”

Namjoon lifts Dasom with his free arm, twirling her around before placing a big kiss on her forehead. Her giggles fill him with delight, and he doesn’t care that his cheeks hurt from how hard he’s been smiling. “Of course I came, angel. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He places her on the ground before he grabs the bouquet of sunflowers from his other arm. The sight of her favourite flower makes Dasom jump with joy. She takes the flowers, and Namjoon silently coos at how much smaller they make her look. Then she spots the other bouquet of flowers in his arm. She scrunches her brows together, about to ask who those are for before her eyes catch something behind Namjoon.

“Ms. ____!”

“Dasom!”

Dasom jumps into your arms, and you laugh at her enthusiasm. “You did so well! I’m so proud of that pirouette!” You twirl her around once her feet hit the ground, smiling as you watch her stumble slightly. Namjoon can’t help but smile too.

“Look what daddy got me, Ms. ____! Look!” Dasom lifts the flowers up, almost shoving them into your face.

“Wow, these are very beautiful, Dasom!”

“Look! He got you some too!” she giggles, and you look at her confusedly then at Namjoon. He sighs, looking pointedly at Dasom despite the cherry hue making its way across his cheeks. She giggles once again before running to her friends. “Dasom!” but it's futile.

If it weren’t for the consistent chatter, Namjoon’s sure there would be an agonizing silence to fill the space between you. You walk closer to him, looking down at your shoes bashfully. “Ah, these-” he takes the bouquet from his arm, “these are for you.”

You looked surprised to say the least. Eyes wide and glassy, your mouth falling ajar. “Wow, uh, really?” you ask, glancing up from the bouquet. He nods shyly.

Listen, he had only planned to buy Dasom her favourite flowers. But then he caught sight of these beautiful yellow roses, tips painted a light amber orange. Somehow they reminded him of you. And the way you had left him with his heart feeling lighter for the first time in years the other night. Maybe it was a way of saying thank you. He’ll admit, he didn’t think it all the way through, but the way you’re smiling at him right now makes him think it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

There’s a moment where it seems to just be you and him, despite the tons of parents and children running around. He’s only focused on you, and the way your eyes drop to his lips, if only for a millisecond. Namjoon wants to say it. God, he wants to say it so badly. “Listen I… I’ve been meaning to ask you,” his voice fades away as his eyes catch yours. Hopeful. Beautiful. Glimmering.

Just like hers.

“Do you, uh, need a ride home?”

And the bubble bursts.

You step away, looking at anything but him and he hates it. He despises it. He wants you to look at him like that again. He wants nothing more than to pull you back and kiss you senselessly, like his mind is screaming for him to do. But he can’t. He can’t do it for some fucking reason and he almost wants to cry in frustration because why can’t this just be easier? Why is it so hard to move on? You don’t deserve this. You deserve so much better than what he can offer you. And that thought keeps him still.

“Uh, sure.”

Quiet.

Say something, idiot! Tell her what you’ve been dying to say! Just fucking say it!

Namjoon hates himself for the next words that tumble out of his mouth.

“Let’s find Dasom.”

The drive to your house is just like it was before, except this time there’s no chatter to fill the emptiness. Dasom is sound asleep in the backseat. You've never seemed more distant than now, facing the window, body pressed against the door. You had almost begged to go in the back with Dasom, and Namjoon doesn’t know why he didn’t just let you.

How did it come to this? This wasn’t what he wanted. This night wasn’t supposed to go like this. Everything should have gone differently.

He doesn’t know how he’ll ever fix this. If things will go back to normal. If he completely ruined it. But he’s too afraid to ask. Too afraid to know.

Namjoon has never hated the quiet more.

The sight of your apartment complex fills him with dread. All he can think about is all he wants to say, all he should have said, all he wants to take back. God, Namjoon wishes he could take it back. If only there was a way to turn back the time. Why had he been so afraid to make a move? Why did it hurt so much? But he knows going back wouldn’t help. Not when he doesn’t know if he would have done it differently.

His car comes to a stop, and the doors unlock. He faintly catches the small thank you before the passenger door slams shut. Namjoon watches as you make your way up the pathway, feet moving briskly and it feels like he’s watching you walk away from him.

You’re shuffling through your bag, looking for your key. And fuck, is he really just going to this go? Is he that stubborn that he can’t see past himself? He can’t. He can’t let you go. Not like this.

Well do something, dumbass!

The door of his car is thrown open, and before he can overthink it-

“____!”

You still. You turn.

Namjoon shuts the door. He walks up the steps and stops a few feet away from you, but he feels like he’s miles away. You look up at him, questioning. Your eyes aren’t the same ones. Not like you looked at him before. Yet they’re still warm. Inviting. Namjoon is tongue-tied, and all those words he wanted to say are gone now.

“Are we… good?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I just…” he scratches the back of his neck. “That moment back at the recital. I… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” you say, simply. When he looks at you, he can’t tell what you’re feeling. You’ve blocked him off. “Namjoon, really. It’s fine.”

But is it really? He wants to ask. But he doesn’t. It’s quiet again, this time the sound of the wind rustling the browning leaves above filling the space. Still.

“I… god, I don’t know why this is so hard. Ever since, you know,” you don’t. “I… I didn’t think I'd ever get an opportunity to…” he inhales, unsure of what he wants to say first.

“I just feel like I ruined it so carelessly.”

You don’t say anything for a few moments. You only stare at him, really stare at him. Like you can see through his mirage, through the walls he’s spent so long building up. You’re taking it all, but there’s nothing he can take back from you.

“You didn’t.” you whisper it so quietly, Namjoon would have thought his mind had taken pity on him. But a smile slips onto your face. Unlike the other ones. It doesn’t fill him with joy. It doesn’t give him butterflies. This one hurts.

And he knows you’re telling the truth.

“This… It might take a while.”

The wind picks up. The leaves rustle. The cold, biting.

“That’s ok. I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

Your lips are bittersweet on his tongue.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN TO KARLA !! ILYYYY <3

#bangtanhq #btsbookclub #ficswithluv #btsguild #btsgoldnet #cypherwritersnet #namjoon x reader #namjoon angst #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x you #bts x reader #namjoon fanfic

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smileyjaeminies · 4 years

Text

Hey, stranger

Synopsis: You are preparing to say goodbye to uni life and take a leap of faith into the unknown. What happens when you are met with an unexpected visitor? Decisions are tricky… Will you be able to make the right one?

Word Count: 7,5 k

Genre: ex- boyfriend au!, angst

Warnings: smoking, drinking, fighting, cursing

Member: Jungkook, ft Namjoon and Lisa from BlackPink

A/N: This took every last cell of my energy to write. I think a part of me will live within this work. Say hello to my new favourite piece.

If life was full of crossroads, you could clearly see the one waiting for you only a few steps away. Could the butterfly effect be true? Could every single choice you make drastically change the outcome of every day ahead of you? How could you ever be sure a decision was right?

Could you trust your heart? Or would it always lie to you? Your head? Or would it force a decision on you? Could you take a friend’s advice? Would it be right to listen to someone else when the result only concerns yourself?

Still lost in thought, you pry open your window slowly as to not make any sound. You take your legs out first, climbing on the steps of the narrow fire escape. It creaks under your weight, a familiar and almost comforting sound. You squeeze the cup of tea in your hand, hoping that its heat will seep into your fingers. A wisp of air makes you shiver, your teeth threatening to clatter together.

You shouldn’t be out. You are dressed in your home clothes, leggings and an old oversized hoodie, not nearly enough to save you from the cold air outside. Yet you don’t mind, allowing the cold to surround you as you wrap a blanket around your shoulders.

You glance back inside, your room in complete disarray. A big suitcase is sitting opened in front of your closet, filled to the brim. Everywhere around your room are opened boxes, some of them half empty, others overflowing with your possessions. The walls seem empty as the fairy lights that used to decorate them are packed in one of the boxes. The collage of pictures that accompanied them is now stored in an album.

You reach for it, getting comfortable on the fire escape again as you shuffle through it. The smile on your face only keeps growing as the memories come back to you. Your first day in uni, your first dorm, countless pictures of you and your roommate, Lisa, from various adventures from 3am liquor runs to stressing over exams.

With every picture, you see the passage of time. How you moved out of the dorms and into your first apartment, your first day at your shitty part time job to pay rent. You and your friends’ first time at karaoke night, only for it to become tradition. Beach days and hikes, laughs and crying sessions.

Lost in the array of pictures is a picture of him. Your first instinct is to bury it, shoving it under all the other pictures. You scoff, turning to look at the skyline for a while. You try to pry him out of your head, but your heart is yearning to look at the picture again. You shake your head again and again, trying to think about something else, anything else.

Your hands move on their own accord, looking though the mess you made to find his picture again. You find it at last, a sigh escaping past your lips. The picture sports you and Jungkook, your (now) ex-boyfriend, happily smiling with matching peace signs framing your faces. Jungkook’s hair is hidden under a bucket hat, messy strands peeking through, while his eyes shine brightly, a million little stars hidden away in their depths. Next to him, your smile has taken over your features, almost making your eyes seal shut. You both look so happy, so good together, like puzzle pieces that fit perfectly.

You can feel your heart twist inside your chest. The memory behind the picture surfaces quickly, as it from the days you were still trying to impress each other. For your first dates, you would take turns showing the other your favourite places around the city, trying to get to know each other better. This picture was from an outing at one of Jungkook’s favourite pastry places.

With Jungkook, every day was an adventure, every day brought a surprise. He always went down roads no one ever treaded, happy to make a path for himself where there was none. There were no easy choices with him, only right ones.

You knew if you kept looking at that part of the pictures, you’d find more traces of him. After all, he had been a big part of your life for almost two years. So you went ahead and looked through the pictures, from your one year anniversary, to meeting his parents, then yours, silly pictures taken on drunk nights, memorabilia from your road trips.

Tearing away your gaze from the photos, you changed your position, now sitting cross-legged as you beheld the sky line. Your thoughts were bringing back memories from your relationship, as if a film was playing before you and you couldn’t stop watching.

You recalled your first meetings, soft hellos on the elevator or when you were grabbing your mail. You soon learned that he lived with his best friend on the floor above you, apartment 4C. You and your own best friend were currently residing on apartment 3C. Coincidence? Maybe.

Then again, perhaps not. For random meetings were one thing, but him walking out to your beloved fire escape more and more often could not be incidental. The first couple of times it happened, a comfortable silence reigned over you after a timid greeting, both of you cherishing the time to get lost in your thoughts.

You almost jumped out of your skin when he finally walked up to you one day in one of your favourite cafes. You remember well, how he managed to gather up the courage to walk up to you, messy flock of brown hair and all, using his favourite greeting, one he saved only for you.

“Hey stranger”, the sound of his voice plays in your head.

After that day, lonely hours on your fire escape became hang out sessions as you talked about what was on your minds, letting go of all your worries. You found solace in him and he grew to trust you more and more. Those stolen moments turned to actual dates when you finally got fed up and asked him out. As you got to know him better, you discovered that the mysterious guy living a floor above you wasn’t mysterious at all.

Jungkook was… his own galaxy. How could someone’s presence be so enticing, screaming at everyone to take note of him, while he was introverted and quiet? How could someone excel at basically everything he did, everything his hands touched turning into gold, yet be so blissfully unaware of it? How could someone be so passionate, pouring himself into his work, whatever that may be, while remaining unsure of himself?

He was full of contradictions indeed. And those contradictions became the cause of your relationship falling apart. He made you happy, even in those last days, you truly felt happy when you were with him. But more and more obstacles came to stand between you. You had lost your way of connecting and he seemingly wasn’t interested in getting it back.

The screaming still lingers in your ears. You can almost hear the glass breaking as you both screamed at each other, desperately trying to get the other person to listen.

Yet you don’t regret speaking up that day. If anything, it showed you what you already knew. You were both too caught up in yourselves to be someone for the other person to love. While you still cared for him, you knew that staying your distance was what you both needed.

Especially now. You truly couldn’t fathom how the opportunity for you to get away had just bounced onto your lap. You accepted without a second thought, knowing it was just the opportunity you were searching for. And here you were, packing, ready to start traveling as the personal assistant of one of the most influential photographers in the fashion industry.

The industry was complicated of course, yet you had always loved it dearly. You had made your first skirt at the age of 13, only for your love to grow as you started unfolding more fashion secrets. From altering thrifted clothes, to making your own, to studying fashion in university, you were dedicated to your dream. Now, you were caught up in it, finally landing the break you wanted to enter the exclusive world you have only caught glimpse of until now and making your dream into reality.

A knock came from your door, violently snapping you away from your thoughts. You twisted around a bit, calling for them to come in. Lisa’s head peaked from behind your door, a smile lighting up her face.

“Hey, you” she called, walking over to you.

“Hey baby” you answered, smiling back at her, the nickname effortlessly flowing from your lips.

You scooted over, inviting her to sit next to you. You got comfortable on the small space, leaving your legs to hang out as you snuggled under the blanket. Your head came to rest easily on her shoulder, fitting perfectly in position as you both watched the city lights flicker before you.

“At least you’ve opened up the boxes” she teased you.

“Hey!” you said, poking her stomach as retaliation, “I’m almost done with my closet and I’ve packed all my books! That only leaves…” you let your voice trail off, your eyes skimming your room.

“Literally everything else” she joked again, and this time you couldn’t help but laugh with her.

“Do you need help, baby? I know this must be hard for you mentally” she asked, her tone sweet, deprived from the joking attitude she had only moments before.

You needn’t think for an answer, only shook your head firmly.

“I need to do this myself. Come to terms with it.” You told her.

You felt her nod as a comfortable silence reigned between you. After a few moments, you felt her arms around you tighten. Without a word, you tightened your own hold around her waist.

“I’m going to miss you so much” you whispered.

“I’m going to miss you too. It almost feels like I don’t know what to do with myself now that you’re leaving.” She told you.

You had nothing to say to that. You and Lisa had been stuck at the hip for years and yet, you knew it was time for you to move on. From the very first day you met her in your assigned dorm room, to today, when your paths would inevitably split up, Lisa had been an invaluable friend to you. It was hard for you to imagine a life without her next to you.

But you weren’t scared. You knew her better than she knew herself, and vice versa. She understood you and you knew that she would always be there for you. Your friendship was strong. It would hold out.

“You know”, she broke the silence “Joon texted”

Your eyes widened at the mention of the boy. Namjoon was Jungkook’s roommate and best friend, currently hidden away inside the apartment above you. You looked back at your best friend before asking,

“What did he say?”

“Well… It appears that he let slip to Jungkook that you’re leaving. And he didn’t take it very well” she admitted.

“Oh?” you asked.

“Apparently he’s throwing a temper tantrum up there. So I thought…” she was saying, when you cut her off.

“No. Lisa, no” you said sternly.

“Y/N,” she begun, only for you to cut her off again.

“No, Lisa, don’t. I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to talk to him. I just want to drink my tea and pack in peace” you told her.

“Is that enough? What about closure?” she asked you.

“I’ve had it. It’s been six months. If he wanted to talk it out, he should’ve done it a long time ago” you answered.

“If that’s what you want…” she said, her voice trailing off.

“That’s what I want. I’m leaving this place and him behind me. I only ever need you” you said, trying to give her a comforting smile.

“Oh shut up you cheesy little shit” she said, cuddling further into you.

After a few moments of silence, Lisa slowly started to draw herself away.

“I’m too cold for this. I’ll see you later?” she asked, climbing back inside.

“Sure. I’ll try to finish up so we can have those drinks we talked about. Girls’ night?” you offered.

Lisa’s face lit up as she nodded eagerly. You loved the thought yourself, putting your phones away for a while and just having drinks with your best friend sounded like a dream. You wrapped the blanket tighter around yourself as you got lost in your thoughts once again.

You watched silently as cars passed from the road under you, hurriedly trying to get to their destination. Not a lot of people were out, and those who were, were maneuvering through the streets, rushing to return to the safety of their homes.

There’s a storm coming. You thought, watching dark clouds filled with rain make their way towards the city. Funny, the weather always found a way to match your mood. Your eyes turned to the open boxes once again as you struggled to form a plan to get through packing as fast as possible.

Then, the familiar creaking sound of a window opening above you startled you. All your muscles tensed up, your body going on overdrive, your senses heightened. You tried to keep your head straight, silently praying that he just opened the window to get some air, that he wasn’t going to get out.

Your prayers went unanswered.

The fire escape creaked loudly as more weight was pushed on it. You heard him huff lightly as he settled down, getting comfortable. Your mind could already see him, even though your eyes couldn’t, his legs spread in front of him, cigarettes in hand, back leaning on the wall as his face was colored by the blinking lights of the city.

“Hey, stranger” Jungkook called you, causing your breath to hitch at your throat.

You masked your shock by taking a sip of your tea, trying to brush Jungkook off. However, he had other plans.

“I know you can hear me. It’s okay if you don’t want to talk to me, just don’t fucking ignore me.” He snapped.

You didn’t pretend you didn’t hear him this time. You scoffed, annoyed but his stubbornness, turning to look at him, your eyes searching for his. He was sprawled across the staircase just like you expected, his hands busy swirling around a pack of cigarettes. His hair was longer now, you noted, parted square in the middle, curls falling effortlessly to frame his face. His doe eyes were the same, holding your gaze as his tongue moved out of his mouth to wet his lips.

“Hello, Jungkook” you said curtly.

“Well then, that wasn’t that hard, was it?” he asked, his lips turning up into a smirk.

You shook your head, not wanting to lead him on further. It seemed that he was also out of things to say, for silence overtook you for a few moments. Jungkook then opened his pack, placing a cigarette between his lips and fumbling for a lighter. Having located it, he lit his cigarette, taking a big swig of it and letting out a puff of smoke in the shape of a ring.

His eyes found yours again, for yours were already on him, watching his movements. Something flashed in his eyes then, so quick you didn’t have time to put a finger on it. Without a word, he tossed the pack on your lap.

Your eyes shifted from the cigarettes to him as you tried to figure out what to do. Your mind drifted back to the thought of crossroads as you grabbed the pack with your hands. Lisa’s voice also replayed in your head. Closure. Such a silly thing.

You opened the pack, picking up a cigarette and putting it between your fingers. You reached out, motioning for Jungkook to pass you the lighter. He reached for you, lighter in hand, your hands brushing a little as you got the lighter. Sheltering the small flame with your hand, you lit your cigarette, the familiar feeling of smoke filling your lungs overtaking you.

You blew out the smoke in a puff, failing to make a ring identical to his. You placed the pack and cigarettes some steps above you and in Jungkook’s reach. He tossed them back inside, turning his attention back to you. Only this time, you weren’t looking at him.

Your eyes had drifted away, back onto the bustling city as the cigarette in your hand burned like a beacon. Jungkook felt his heart twist inside his chest, felt his hands yearning to touch you, his lips to be placed upon yours. He managed to quiet his thoughts, assuming a stoic expression as you turned back to look at him.

There was something in your eyes, something Jungkook had never seen there before. He tried to hold your gaze, but you looked away too quickly, your eyes falling on the inside of your room.

“Shouldn’t you be packing?” he asked, testing the waters.

“Well, I am here now” you said, turning to look at him once more.

Jungkook’s mind was flooded with possibilities, things he’s never told you, things he wished to tell you, for so long. You were desperately trying to read him, wishing that you know what was happening inside his head.

“Jungkook…” “Y/N…” you spoke up at the same time.

You chuckled, Jungkook soon following suit. Still, after all those months, you were in tune. You looked at him, smile still settled on your lips as he returned the look. He motioned for you to go first and you took a swig of your cigarette, trying to buy yourself some time.

You opened your mouth to speak up when a drop of rain fell on your hair. You were startled, flinching as you turned to look at the sky. He flinched too after a few seconds, a droplet of rain dropping on his shoulder. Slowly but surely, large drops started falling from the sky all around you, leaving you to giggle like a child.

“Want to take this inside? Help me pack, keep me company, whatever?” you asked, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

He raised a brow, looking directly at you as you fumbled with your blanket, trying to get it over your head to shield you from the rain. Once you met his eyes again, he was still curiously regarding you. You put out your cigarette, throwing it away and waiting expectantly for his answer.

With one last drag, Jungkook put out his own cigarette, getting up. He was hovering over you when he said simply,

“Let’s go”

You smiled up at him, happy with his answer as you pushed your way back inside. You threw the now damp blanket in a corner of the room, suddenly self-conscious of the awful mess. You heard him shuffle his way in, landing rather ungracefully on the floor under your window.

“You’d think that after doing this so many times you would have gotten the hang of it… You disappoint me Jeon” you joked.

Jungkook glared at you, causing you to laugh loudly. You reached for your phone, going to text Lisa that you had someone over, as you always did and vice versa. Your hand hovered over the screen, hesitating to open the messaging app.

Telling Lisa would… Complicate things. She’d ask questions after, questions you couldn’t answer because in all honesty, you didn’t know why you called him over. How did you go from not wanting to see him or talk to him to inviting him over? You weren’t really sure. In the end, he’d exit the way it came. No trouble at all. Right?

Yes, your mind answered for you. Lisa definitely doesn’t need to know.

You realized Jungkook was talking to you, making you turn abruptly on your heels.

“Sorry, I was kind of daydreaming for a second. What was that?” you asked.

Jungkook smiled at you, slightly shaking his head before saying,

“I just said that you looked very concentrated for a person staring at a black screen”

“Oh shut up” you said, making him raise his hands in surrender.

You huffed loudly, placing your hands on your hips and looking around your room, trying to decide where to begin. One glance at your vinyl collection made the decision for you. The small stack, which only grew over the years, was an easy thing to check off of your list. Grabbing the box closest to you, you sat yourself down at your desk chair, a comfortable distance away from the shelf your vinyl had resided in… Until now.

Glancing briefly at Jungkook, you found him still sat on the floor, eyes locked on the screen of his phone. His eyebrows were furrowed together in concentration and without glancing at the screen, you knew he was keeping himself busy with a game on his phone. Still exactly the same, your mind added. The silence between you wasn’t awkward, but it was tense, so you decided to speak up.

“You know, you could always sit on the bed. Or actually help me pack”

“So you brought me here to do your dirty work for you? No thanks” he said.

“Oh come on, you can’t just sit on your phone! Just do the board games or something” you urged him on.

He got on his feet, making you think that he would actually do as you asked. You turned back to the task at hand only to jump at the feeling of his hands gracing your shoulders lightly.

“I could always do you” he said, his tone low.

You almost lost yourself in the touch, when you snapped yourself back to reality, flinching away from him. You were glad you couldn’t see him, it only made your next words easier.

“In your dreams Jeon.” You said in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

You heard him mutter something under his breath, before actually making his way to grab a box to fill with your board games. He settled down, getting to work without a word. Your mind was running on speeds you didn’t know possible, your shoulders still tingling where his hands had touched you.

At some point you heard him laugh out loud, making your racing mind cease, your attention brought back to him. You looked at him shyly from under your hair, somewhat afraid to meet his gaze head on.

“Remember when we used to have best friends vs best friends board game nights and Joon would kick your ass in Name, Animal, Plant with words like, oh, I don’t know, fucking Hyacinth or something?” he said, still chuckling slightly.

You too laugh at the memories. While you and Jungkook were still together, you, Lisa and the boys would often meet up for game nights of board games, loads of food and alcohol. You fondly remembered those nights, were everything was normal, there was no weight in your chest and your smiles came as easily as breathing.

“Remember that night Lisa sprained her ankle while we were playing charades?” you retorted.

He broke into a laughing fit, clearly recalling the crazy night that followed the incident. So many memories came to mind, replaying in front of you effortlessly. So many happy memories, so many smiles, laughs and inside jokes, so many things connecting you.

What went wrong? Your head screamed as you watched Jungkook’s back. He was animatedly reminding you of all that transpired one night where Namjoon believed himself “Extremely sexy” and tried dancing to ‘Havana’ by Camilla Cabello. You, of course, where there, and you recalled the event quite vividly.

But there was something about watching him retell the story, the corner of his lips turning up as he spoke, his eyes getting smaller and smaller as laughter sealed them shut. His words were often stopped by laughing fits and he turned around to see if you were watching now and again. Each time, you’d meet his eyes, nodding in encouragement as you threw your own two cents in, pushing the story further.

Having him with you made you feel weird and safe at the same time. You appreciated the company, he always found a way to make you feel at ease and after a while the conversation flowed naturally between you, as if you were two old friends… Which you were. Kind of. Furthermore, the night had a tone of finality in it.

It was strange for you, sitting in a room with him, surrounded by your things and burdened with so many memories and yet not being able to touch him. You were holding yourself back, filtering your actions, words and emotions carefully. You were balancing on the edge of a cliff and it would only take so much for you to tip into your demise. You stole glances at him, not yet ready to study him openly. You recognized all the small mannerisms and quirks that made Jungkook, Jungkook. But still, you were reserved, keeping your voice down and your laughs short, not being able to lose yourself in him, his presence, his voice, his laugh, his words.

It shouldn’t surprise you how easily you worked together, moving in different parts of the room and wrapping things neatly. You knew the other well and still, you were in tune, giving the other space when needed or rushing to help sort something out. You could read each other with a simple sideways glance, which could be part of the reason you still hadn’t met his gaze since you came inside.

You didn’t need to give him instructions or anything, he simply took initiative and started placing your belongings in boxes, trying to save you space and fit as many things in as possible. After sitting on your suitcase, squeezing it with all your might in a final attempt to close it, it was over.

You stood with your hands on your hips, a final huff leaving you as you admired your handiwork. The boxes were neatly placed one on top of the other in a corner of the room and Jungkook was now dragging your suitcase to sit with them.

“I guess we make a pretty good team, huh?” he asked.

And it had happened. You’d tipped from the edge. You felt the tone of the room shift, his seemingly innocent question bouncing off of your walls in an unending echo. Your heartbeat picked up, your hands getting sweaty as you fumbled for words to answer him.

You sat on top of your bed, craving for some kind of comfort. He turned to look at you then, his doe eyes finding yours. It took all of your strength to muster up a smile, shaky as it was. It sufficed, for you saw Jungkook nod a little, seemingly mulling over his own words.

“How about some music?” you asked, taking your phone on your hands.

“No, not you, I’m designated DJ, remember?” Jungkook stopped you, already opening Spotify on his phone.

You gave him the finger, laying back on your bed and waiting for him to play something that fit the mood. Jungkook admittedly had his way with music. He listened to a huge array of different artists and was happy to provide you with playlist for any given emotion or situation. Your favorite one, one of the last tokens of his you held dear, was the one he had named after the city you lived in, managing to capture its vibe perfectly.

Remember when we first met?

You said, “Light my cigarette”

He absolutely did not. You shot up on your bed to find him already looking at you from under his curls. A cheeky smile made its way to his lips as your head swirled in circles. He sat back, challenging you with a look.

He played your song. Your fucking song. On one of the first times you hanged out with him, still in the awkward phase you only bumped into each other and shared a few words on the fire escape, you discovered you both harbored the same love for a singer named Troye Sivan.

As your relationship matured, blossomed into a true companionship, ‘Strawberries and Cigarettes’ came out. And it fit. It fit like a glove, just like the faint cigarette taste that adorned Jungkook’s lips and the strawberry flavored gum you were somewhat addicted to. It fit in the way he taught you to make smoke rings and the road trips you had gone on together. It fit in the black jeans he always wore, the spare lighters that you always seemed to find in the bottom of your purse and fighting over boxes of candy.

And even now, it fit. Because you were leaving, ‘giving your heart a holiday’. Because you were wondering if you’d teach each other fate.

The song softly played as your thoughts raced inside your head, Jungkook patiently waiting for your reaction.

“Turn it off” you finally found the strength to say, holding his gaze.

Your voice came out low, shaky and you cursed yourself for not being able to have more conviction. He did as he was told without a fight, as you got on your feet to look outside the window, anything to avoid his eyes. The storm was still going strong outside, the rain playing notes on the metal of the fire escape.

You took a few deep breaths, making an effort to calm yourself down. Too preoccupied in your thoughts, you didn’t hear him get up or walk up to you. You jumped when you felt his hands on you, trying to wrap themselves around your waist.

His movements stopped momentarily, obviously waiting for you to shove him away. When you didn’t, he eased his arms around you, placing his hands in the pockets of your hoodie.

What the fuck am I doing? You asked yourself as Jungkook rested his head against yours and you instinctively melted at the touch. A few moments of stillness and tranquility passed, until Jungkook moved, placing a kiss on the side of your head.

Your eyes fluttered closed, as all your other senses heightened, the feeling of his hands around you, his scent, his movements, all way too familiar. He breathed in your scent, stopping there for a few moments to ground himself. Then, his kisses moved, first to the shell of your ear, then your temple, your cheek, to arrive and settle on your lips.

He still tasted the same. The thought made you want to cry as you felt his hand cup your face to keep you in place. You allowed yourself to savor it, savor the way he felt pressed against you, his lips on top of yours. Your legs turned to jelly as your hands grabbed his shoulders to keep you steady. You felt yourself slip back into a time when this was not a rare occurrence but everyday life, when you were awarded with kisses for the smallest of feats and when your lips on his didn’t feel like a breath of fresh air but rather coming back home after a long day.

Home. The word abruptly brought you back to reality. You pulled away, untangling yourself from him.

“Stop” you said, still no conviction in your voice.

“Y/N, just-” he started but you cut him off.

“No, Jungkook. No. This is closure okay? This is it. I’m leaving tomorrow, you know that. Why are making this harder for me? Why should we re-open old wounds?” you asked him.

“Because they haven’t fully healed, Y/N! Look, I know you’re leaving tomorrow but…” his voice trailed off, his hands curling into fists.

“There are no buts, Jungkook! You helped me pack for Christ’s sake, you helped me wrap up things here. It’s done. I’m doing this” you said.

“Then why would you kiss me like that?” he asked.

The question hit you like a ton of bricks. Why did you kiss him indeed?

“I don’t know.” You answered truthfully.

He scoffed, pressing his body on top of yours once more. He grabbed your hand, placing it over his heart. His movements were abrupt and rushed, his hand pressing yours so hard it almost hurt. You felt his erratic heartbeat as he spoke up,

“Do you feel that? That’s my heart, still crazy over you. All night, it took everything in me not to kiss you. But I did. And when you kissed back I… I thought there was a chance. Just tell me. Tell me you don’t want this” he said.

“Jungkook…” you started, your voice trailing off as your thoughts got clouded by your close proximity.

Taking a step back, you were pushed against the wall, his body caging your own, arms on either side of your body, eyes baring into yours. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, let alone think, everything becoming too much and too intense. You desperately tried to collect your thoughts, find a way to get to him, make him understand why you couldn’t.

“I have to go. This is something I have to do, for me.” You explained.

For a few moments, there was silence. Neither of you moved as your eyes were stuck on the necklace dangling from his neck, a small anchor. Your gift. You just couldn’t take it anymore. It felt like you were being dealt with blow after blow and it was all too much. Not baring the silence any longer, you weaseled under his arms as you spoke up.

“This was a mistake. I’m… I’m sorry I kissed you, I thought it was closure but… It’s clearly not. You should go” you told him, turning your back on him as you desperately tried to keep your voice from breaking.

“Y/N. Please.” he begged.

You shook your head, your hair whipping around as the tears started to blur your vision. You looked at him with the corner of your eye, not strong enough to face him head on. His expression was open, his arms dangling on his sides, defeated.

“I need this, Jungkook, more than you’ll ever know. I need to get out. I need… I need to start over. Please. Don’t make this any harder.” You tried to explain.

Finally, something flashed in his eyes. Could it be realization? You’d never know, for he pried open the window forcefully, turning around to look at you again.

“For the record, I’m not sorry. I don’t take anything that I said or did back. I still love you. Always will.” He said.

Without waiting for your reply, he got out into the staircase and the rain. A few droplets landed on your window seat, but you didn’t care, only watched frozen as he walked away from you.

A few moments later, your tears slowed down enough for you to close the window.

“I still love you too.” You whispered onto the glass, a sob chocking you.

Eyes bloodshot and nose running, you went to find Lisa in the kitchen. Once you walked in the room, Lisa took in your disheveled state and rushed to your side. When she gathered you in her arms, new tears found their way into your eyes.

“Oh, baby” Lisa said, rubbing soothing circles down your back.

“He was here” you stated.

“I know. Joon texted me the screenshot once Jungkook texted him” she told you.

“Traitor. I didn’t want you to know” you mumbled.

“I know. But you weren’t sly either. I could hear you laughing clear as day” she said.

“Fuck. This place isn’t soundproof at all. Thank God I’m leaving” you joked through the tears.

“Hey. I’m stuck here for another two years for my post grad. Show some respect” she joked back, wiping the tears away from your cheeks.

“Now sit your ass down. I’m busting open the good wine and we’re going to talk about everything tonight” she said, giving you a theatrical spin.

And talk you did. As you got through the whole bottle, even bringing out a second one for a couple of glasses, you talked and talked about what transpired that night, Jungkook and Namjoon, school and work and everything in between.

That night, none of you bared to be alone, so you found yourselves sharing Lisa’s purple comforter on either sides of her bed, your legs tangled together to feel closer to each other.

This is it. Last night. Your head kept repeating as sleep finally claimed you.

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

Morning came quicker than you expected, the blaring of your alarm startling you awake. You groaned at the sound, turning it off as quickly as possible before turning to lie on your back. Lisa stirred next to you, as you knew she would, taking a couple of minutes before opening her eyes.

You stared at the ceiling for a few moments, your brain trying to fully wake up before you peeled the comforter off your form, leaving Lisa to scroll through her phone. You washed up quickly, getting ready and you meeting Lisa in the kitchen for breakfast.

Only this time, she didn’t greet you with her usual soft smile. She slowly peeled her teary eyes from her mug to watch you walk in.

“Oh baby” you said, immediately rushing to her side and wrapping your arms around her.

Your own eyes filled with tears as your best friend sobbed into your shoulder, holding you tightly. You whispered soothing words in her ear, trying to calm her down, reassure her that you were going to be just fine. She composed herself, and you poured two bowls of sugary cereal, one for each of you and a mug of coffee for yourself.

You nibbled on the cereal in silence, both evidently trying to hold back tears. With a glance at her phone’s clock, Lisa was the first to break the silence.

“We should go” she announced and you just nodded at her words.

You moved to your room, dragging your big suitcase with you, leaving the boxes to be picked up in a day or two by the moving company. You checked your purse for last things, making sure you had everything. Your eyes scanned the small room, your heart swelling with nostalgia and your eyes getting teary again. You perched the purse further up your shoulder, before whispering a goodbye to the room that had been your safe place for almost three years.

You dragged your suitcase to the living room, where Lisa was waiting for you. Again, you looked around a room that held so many memories of you and your friends, lovers, passing people and everyone in between. You had to close your eyes for a moment to stop the tears. With one deep breath and a firm nod, you turned to Lisa.

“I’m ready” you announced, closing the door behind you.

The ride to the airport was filled with silence, as a random radio station provided you with music. None of you paid too much attention to it, both too preoccupied with your own thoughts. You looked out of the window, your eyes racing over the familiar streets of the city you studied in. You remembered how lost you were the first times you had gotten out on your own. Now, it felt like the city was imprinted in the back of your hand.

Finally arriving at the airport, you and Lisa unloaded your suitcase from the back of her car and she offered to carry it until you checked in. After finding the correct counter and checking in, you and Lisa sat down in a nearby bench. A few moments passed by, before she started rambling, clearly nervous,

“Do you have anything to eat? Maybe you’ll get hungry on the plane, let me go get you something”

You got hold of her hand before she could stand up, pulling her back in the seat next to you.

“Baby, I’m fine. Can we just… Sit here for a few minutes before I go?” you asked her.

Lisa didn’t reply, only nodded a little before resting her head on your shoulder. You rested your head on top of hers, a sigh falling from your lips. At that moment, you were content.

The time flowed by too quickly for your liking and before you knew it, the airport speakers announced that your gate was opening in only 10 minutes. Your eyes met Lisa’s as both of you got up to walk to your gate. Your movements were slow as you walked, your hands entwined.

When you arrived, you were surprised to find Jungkook standing in front of the gate, legs clad in black jeans, a black hoodie thrown on top, hair a complete mess. His chest was heaving, his eyes searching the crowd franticly before they met with yours.

His lips formed your name and you felt a smile creeping on your face. He run towards you and you opened your arms to welcome him. His body hit yours like a tidal wave, as he gathered you up in his arms, crashing his body on yours as if he was trying to consume you.

Giggles bubbled through you as you felt his arms tighten around you. You buried your face in his neck, breathing him in, the all too familiar scent of his aftershave, cigarettes and soap.

“I just couldn’t let you go” he mumbled in your ear.

Your eyes filled with tears as you drew back, desperate to get one good look at him. He let you, your eyes locking in an intense stare. You raised your hand, softly running it threw his hair as his eyes fell shut, melting into your touch.

A million questions rushed through your head. How did he get here? Why? Why now? Why him? You silenced your mind, choosing to savor the moment, burying your face in his neck once more as his hands moved to wrap tightly around your waist.

Breaking apart for the last time, you smiled at him as he did the same.

“Maybe they’ll be a time for us again. We’ll find our way back to each other” you said.

“Yeah?” he asked innocently.

“Yes.” You said with certainty, reaching up and placing a small peck on his lips.

Then, you left him, turning to hold your best friend once more. She squeezed you with all the strength she had and you did the same. Moving back, you raised your pinky and she didn’t hesitate to lock it with her own.

“Fuck you” you said simultaneously, an old tradition, a token of your friendship.

Having said your good byes, you moved towards the gate, your steps sure and steady. After the employees checked your ticket, you were allowed to pass through.

Turning back one last time, you waved to them, sat close together near the gate. You could tell Lisa was crying now and you mentally thanked Jungkook for being there for her, hand across her shoulders. With that last wave, you took a step forward, a step closer towards your new life.

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

After the bad sleep you had the previous night, it came as no surprise to you that you drifted off not even halfway into the movie you had picked to watch on the flight. You were awoken by a flight attendant softly tapping your shoulder and informing you that you were about to land.

The nerves decided to kick in at that exact moment, making your leg bounce uncontrollably throughout the landing. The woman that sat next to you eyed you closely, but you hardly noticed her stare. You almost darted up from your seat the minute you touched the ground, but you quickly composed yourself, trying to calm down and have some patience for the few remaining moments.

When the ‘seatbelts on’ sign was turned off, everyone around you bounced to their feet. You too followed their suit, pulling on your coat and gathering all your things. With your purse perched up on your shoulder, you disembarked from the plane, only for you to get lost in a river of counters, checks and searches.

After all the necessary procedures were over, you were finally able to stand in line and wait for your suitcase which gave you the perfect opportunity to take out your phone to text your mom and Lisa. After shooting out quick texts to both of them that you landed safely, you rummaged through your coat’s pockets for your earphones. Having located them, you plugged them in, opening up Spotify and leaving your favourite songs to play on shuffle.

Familiar lyrics flowed in your ear, lyrics you had heard only hours before as ‘Strawberries and Cigarettes’ played, Troye Sivan’s voice taking over your senses, clouding your thoughts, leaving you confused and dizzy. Why Spotify? Why would it play here, on your new beginning? Why couldn’t you escape him?

But then again, you knew that you’d carry Jungkook inside you for a long time yet. He wasn’t an easy person to escape and you weren’t ready to let him go. Maybe this was teaching each other fate. The smile grew on your lips unbeknownst to you as you realized just that:

The last chapter of your story hadn’t been written just yet.

171 notes · View notes

winryofresembool · 4 years

Text

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 24

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: Halloween chapter, part 2.

A/N: Yay, an update! I think some of you are gonna be happy about the characters that are being introduced in this chapter... Also lots of Caleo dorkiness (and canon references) in it! And you'll get to see if you were right with your costume guesses :D

Also like I already mentioned last week, this is the last chapter that I have written so far (when I started posting this fic I tried to make sure I'd have at least 7 chapters ready so I wouldn't have to stress about deadlines... and here we are now) so it is possible that updates may slow down a bit, at least if the chapter wants to become long. But I am still /trying/ to keep up with the regular updates the best I can :) So worry not!

Now, enjoy and let me know what you think!! Ps. somehow we’ve managed to pass 50k words already :O

Words: 4040

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / AO3

…

“Hi, you guys!” Piper, who was dressed as Wonder Woman, greeted Leo and Calypso first when they arrived, gesturing for them to come in.

“Hello! I was afraid Argo II had decided to stop working because you guys are late,” Jason the Superman noted as he offered to take Calypso’s coat and put it in a hanger by the door.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Jason, that possibility did cross my mind as well,” Calypso said, casting Leo a meaningful look. “But no, not this time.”

“We’re only 10 minutes late!” Leo protested, checking the time from his phone. “I was busy finishing something… and Calypso took her time preparing herself as well. She probably did her wig for like two hours.” He gave her a not so serious side-eye.

“I did not!” Calypso said defensively. “Yeah, I straightened and combed and braided it but that took me maybe 15-20 minutes so he is highly exaggerating.”

“Don’t worry, Calypso, we know he does that a lot.” Piper smiled at her reassuringly. “Speaking of your wig, though, you look very cute! That hair reminds me of the style you had before my makeover. You’re dressed as the mythology Calypso, right?”

“Yes, I am,” Calypso said, pleased that Piper had figured that out so fast. “I thought it would be fun to be a bit self ironic for once. I haven’t really had a good reason to sew recently so this was a nice excuse to do that as well.” She made a small twirl to show the dress better.

“That dress really looks great!” Piper told her. “I would gladly commission you to sew me clothes; it’s so hard to find anything nice from the clothes stores these days. But Leo.” She turned back to him. “I see someone hasn’t bothered to get a costume. I wasn’t expecting that from you because you’re always so excited about them.”

“No, you got it all wrong.” Leo wagged his finger at her. “I do have it here, but as I told Cal, it would have been too difficult to wear in the car.” He dropped his bag on the floor, causing a loud thud as it hit the ground.

“Alright. Care to give us any hint what it is?” Piper asked curiously. “Seems heavy.” Calypso wondered if this was something they did every year.

“I’m just saying that it’s inspired by some movies that united us three,” Leo noted mysteriously. “But that’s all, you’ll see soon!”

“My mind is blank now,” Piper said. “Jason, what movies have we watched with him?”

“The first one that comes to my mind is Star Wars,” Jason reminded her. Suddenly both Jason and Piper’s eyes widened in realization. “Could it be?”

“Oh no, Leo you didn’t!” Piper doubled over in laughter when it occurred to her what Leo’s costume most likely was. “I can’t wait to see this!”

“I hope you took pictures with Festus!” Jason couldn’t keep his poker face either, and Calypso watched their reactions with confusion.

“Don’t worry, I will show them later.” Leo grinned, unperplexed by Jason and Piper’s laughter. “Now, where can I change?”

Piper showed him an empty room where he could get into his costume in peace, while Calypso started looking around the house on her own. Even though the place seemed rather fancy, Jason and Piper had managed to make it cozier with their personal objects. A lot of them had seen life and were worn but somehow they still fit in with the newer decorations.

As Calypso reached the living room, her focus went to the guests who had already arrived at the party. She waved at Annabeth and nodded awkwardly to Percy. Even though she and Annabeth were friends again, she wasn’t quite sure how she should act near Percy so ‘reserved’ felt the most natural reaction. She couldn’t help but smile a bit, though, when she registered their costumes: Annabeth had a Chiton just like her, although grey instead of white, with some silvery accessories and a beautiful owl shaped brooch over her chest. Perhaps the most impressive part of her costume was the Greek styled helmet that was used in battles and that hid most of Annabeth’s curly ponytail. Calypso was quite certain she was dressed as Athena, the Greek goddess that according to her was the one she identified herself the most with. Percy on the other hand was wearing sandals, shorts, a tropical shirt, and a belt with fishing equipment and he was holding a fishing rod in his hand. Calypso couldn’t quite figure out who he was supposed to be, other than some sort of fisherman.

“Hi,” Calypso greeted them as she got to hearing distance with them. “You guys look nice. You’re Athena, right?” She asked Annabeth. “Matches my theme, don’t you think?”

“Sure does,” Annabeth nodded, eyeing Calypso’s costume. “You look pretty much exactly like how I imagine the mythology Calypso.”

“Thank you. Coming from you it’s a big compliment.” She turned Percy. “I can’t figure out who you are, though. You don’t seem like a Greek god?”

“I am, though,” Percy replied. “I’m Poseidon.”

“Ooh, so that’s why the fishing gear!” Calypso realized. “But I don’t think the Greeks had tropical shirts quite yet.”

“No, you’re right in that.” Percy shook his head, smiling a bit. “But I’m basing this on the version in the Peter Johnson series. That’s how he was described in it.”

“I didn’t know you have read that too,” Calypso said, “But makes sense. Um, the Poseidon and Athena of the mythology hated each other, though. Not that it’s really my business, but I hope you two are doing fine…?” She asked a bit nervously, not wanting to be the reason for their issues.

“Oh yeah, we are,” Percy confirmed immediately. “It’s just an old joke – back when Annabeth and I were reading the Peter Johnson books I used to say Poseidon is my godly parent and Athena Annabeth’s, and that just kind of stuck with us.”

“Alright.” Calypso accepted Percy’s answer, turning her attention back to Annabeth. “By the way, where did you get that helmet? It definitely looks fancier than most of the plastic ones you see at costume shops.”

“My father collects these things,” Annabeth answered, lifting the helmet from her head for a moment. “I’ve told you he’s also a historian, right? Well, one of his friends wanted to make a replica of the ancient Greek helmets with some modern machines and dad bought this from him. I’m not saying this is 100 per cent accurate but it looks pretty cool, in my opinion.”

“It does,” Calypso confirmed.

“You came with Leo, right?” Percy asked then, to which Calypso nodded. “Where is he? I can’t wait to see his costume; he usually goes for something that is way over the top. Last year he was Hiccup from How to Train your Dragon and he had made a Toothless costume for his dog. I’ve also seen pics of him as Iron Man. Yes, with a full iron costume.”

“I can believe that of him,” Calypso chuckled, imagining Leo in the said costume. “He just went to change into his costume because apparently he couldn’t drive in it. He didn’t reveal what he was going to be, but it does sound like something extravagant.”

“I missed his costume last year but I’ll be sure to have a camera ready when he shows up this time,” Annabeth said happily. Calypso was relieved that the conversation was going this well; she hadn’t known what to expect beforehand because this was the first time she was in the same room with Percy since the ‘incident’. Talking with him now, though, made her realize that holding a grudge wouldn’t be smart and he seemed to think the same way.

“I just realized,” Calypso decided to change the topic, “that I’ve never heard the story of how you guys know Jason and Piper. So how did that happen?”

“It’s a funny story,” Percy started, smiling at the memory. “Jason and I used to be the captains of rivaling soccer teams when we were around 16. Well, one time Jason’s team was visiting us but we were playing in an arena that had just been renovated so I hadn’t been there before. I may have been a bit late from our team meeting and I was a bit lost so I decided to ask one staff lady where I was supposed to go. Somehow she got our teams mixed up and I ended up in the locker room of Jason’s team. Some of Jason’s teammates said that my expression was worth seeing when I realized the mistake but I dunno about that. The funny thing was that somehow the same thing had happened to Jason; he had also been late for the meeting because of traffic or something and he had gotten into my team’s locker room. Well, after the game we had a good laugh about it together and ended up talking about other stuff as well and noticed we have a lot in common. That’s how we became friends. When we moved into the same town, we started training together at least a few times a week.”

“Piper and I didn’t learn to know each other until Jason and she started dating a couple of years ago and they invited Percy to some party where I went with him. To be honest, I was a bit suspicious about her at first because we seemed very different but eventually we learned to respect each other’s qualities. And here we are,” Annabeth added.

“Those are some cool stories,” Calypso said. “It seems like a funny coincidence that somehow we all ended up in this city even though most of us are from somewhere else. Like Leo is from Texas, I am from Greece…” “Speaking of him,” Annabeth had to muffle his laughter with her hand, “I believe we are finally getting some answers about his costume.”

“Oh… my gods” was all Calypso could say when she turned to the direction Annabeth was looking at. “You’re really something else.”

Leo was completely hidden inside his costume, but Calypso could practically hear him grinning at their reactions. The costume looked very much like in the movies; golden (just painted, not real gold, because there was no way Leo could afford something like that) plating forming a droid with big round eyes and an ability to speak lots and lots of different languages: C-3PO from Star Wars.

“Holy shit, dude, that looks so real.” Percy gaped at Leo. “I’m starting to understand why you spent so much time in your room the past few weeks.”

“Why C-3PO, though?” Calypso asked once she managed to put her poker face back on. “Does that have some story behind it?”

“Because, duh, it looks cool!” Leo exclaimed with a mechanical voice from inside his costume. “I dunno, ever since I first saw C-3PO as a kid I thought it would be cool to be able to build something like that. And hey, his ability to translate like all the possible languages is pretty neat. Me? I just know 3.”

“Isn’t it uncomfortable in there, though?” Calypso asked. “That thing must be heavy.”

“Sunshine, I’m always uncomfortable. But this was a childhood dream of mine so I sure as heck am not backing off now,” Leo said with determination.

“A stubborn one, aren’t you?” Calypso stated. “Even I have to admit, though, that you have certainly done some thorough job with it. Hey, I should take photos before I forget! You don’t get to see this every day.”

The others dug their phones up as well and for a while Leo just made silly poses while they took pictures, clearly enjoying the attention his costume got. Eventually he started demanding that Calypso should join him for the photos but she was a bit hesitant at first.

Leo argued: “Come on. Greek mythology meets Star Wars? You don’t see a crossover like that every day.”

“Can’t argue with that, I suppose,” Calypso said and went next to him. “Well, do we have some kind of story for Calypso and C-3PO’s meeting?” she asked as Percy and Annabeth waved at them to look at the camera.

Leo considered her question for a moment. “Oh, how about this? C-3PO somehow ends up on Calypso’s island - because duh, Calypso is cursed so she can’t leave the island…”

“You seem to know surprisingly much about Greek mythology, just saying…” Calypso noted while trying to smile for the photos, resting her hand on the metallic shoulder.

“I told ya, Sunshine, you can blame tía Callida for that…” Leo reminded her. “Anyway, I imagine those two don’t really like each other at first because they’re so different but eventually they learn to respect each other’s skills; C-3PO can translate basically any language and Calypso is good at all kinds of handiworks, which is hard for a droid.”

“And? What happens after that?” Calypso asked curiously.

Leo considered it for a moment. “C-3PO doesn’t really wanna leave Calypso’s island but he has galaxies to save with his friend R2-D2 so he has to go but he promises to come get her afterwards.”

“Aw, Leo, that is kind of sweet,” Calypso commented, suddenly aware of the metal arm that had snuck around her waist. “Does he… does he ever return, though? Shouldn’t that be impossible?”

“For a human, maybe, but he’s a droid,” Leo noted. “Unfortunately during a big battle he blows up badly but the ever so faithful R2-D2 collects the pieces and finds someone who can rebuild him again. And boom, he makes it back and lives happily ever after with his goddess.”

“What’s the term you use when you enjoy a fictional relationship a lot?” Calypso asked. “Shipping?” Annabeth nodded at her. “I don’t know, Leo, to me it sounds like you ship those two. Isn’t that a bit weird?” “What, why would that be weird? I’ve seen people ship…”

“I see these two have gotten into a full on nerd mode again,” Annabeth said quietly to Percy while they were waiting for the flatmates to stop their bickering so they’d be able to take the photos. “Not projecting themselves into their characters, right?”

“No, definitely not,” Percy agreed.

Eventually Leo and Calypso stopped bickering and Annabeth was able to take the pictures. Even if Leo was mostly hidden by his costume, Calypso felt a bit self conscious about the fact that these were the first photos of them together. They did a few goofy poses because Annabeth and Percy told them to, but Calypso thought she probably looked more embarrassed than funny in them.

Once they were done, Leo went to Annabeth who was going through the photos and bowed his head a bit to see them better. “Hey, these do look pretty cool! It’s probably just the lighting but here you look like you’re blushing to some funny comment C-3PO made.”

“Show me!” Calypso yelped nervously and took the phone from Annabeth. When she saw it, she could immediately tell Leo was not wrong; she really was blushing. “Yeah, it’s definitely those candles in the background that do it… And I think it’s pretty warm in here, maybe all the people here heat this room…”

“OK, if you say so,” Leo said but Calypso imagined that he was looking at her suspiciously through his costume.

Trying to get the others’ attention to something else, she said: “So, who else has arrived so far?”

“Nico and Will. I think they went to get some snacks from the dining room,” Piper, who had just entered the room, answered.

“Leo told me that Nico is Jason’s relative, but what about Will?” Calypso asked her.

“Will is Nico’s boyfriend. This is the first time we’re meeting him but they seem very good together. At least he seems to have a grounding effect on Nico, and he actually listens to him, unlike most of us. Um, sorry, it’s a long story, one that I should probably save for another time. Nico may be a bit hard to approach sometimes but he is a very nice guy when you learn to know him. Just… been through a lot. I guess like many of us here. But he seems way happier now,” Piper said, and as if on cue, they could hear some distant laughter coming from the dining room.

“We should start a traumatized college kids’ club,” Leo attempted to joke, and the others hummed in agreement. Maybe she did belong to this group after all, Calypso thought. If only they knew, though…

“This just got cheerful,” Percy said, interrupting Calypso’s thought process. “Who’s up for blue candies? Get them before Will and Nico eat them all.”

“I heard that, Jackson!” Nico entered the room without a warning. “No offense to you or your mom but blue candies aren’t exactly my thing.”

“Hi, Nico,” Percy greeted him, seeming a bit flustered after Nico’s comment. “You haven’t met Calypso, right?” He pointed at her.

“No, I haven’t,” Nico took a quick look at her and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Alright, in that case, this is Calypso Astal. And Calypso, this is Nico di Angelo,” Percy introduced them to each other.

“Nice to meet you,” Calypso approached him, but he seemed to evaluate her for a moment before he took her hand.

“Likewise,” Nico said finally. “I think Jason has mentioned you a few times.”

“Oh. That’s nice,” Calypso said a bit unsurely, like every time she met a new person. The lonely years still had a toll on her, and even though she liked spending time with her friends, meeting new people was always a bit nerve wracking to her. “You’re his relative, right?”

“A distant cousin,” Nico answered. “Yeah, our fathers are related, but I have my mother’s last name and Jason has his.”

“I take it your mother has roots elsewhere, based on the last name?” Calypso asked.

“She was Italian,” Nico shrugged. “I lived there my first years too. But now I can barely remember those times.”

Calypso noticed the use of past tense, but she thought it was probably better to not ask about that in the middle of a party. “Oh. I’ve been to Italy a few times. I’m originally from Greece.”

“What brought you here, then?” Nico asked.

“Dad’s work,” Calypso responded in a tone that told everyone she wouldn’t elaborate on that topic more. It seemed to have become a habit to her.

“Anyway,” Leo, who had managed to stay quiet for a surprisingly long amount of time in Calypso’s opinion, stepped forward and cleared his throat. “Nico, a little bird told me,” he looked at Jason, “that your boyfriend is a Star Wars geek. Is that true?”

Nico took one look at Leo’s costume and his mouth twitched when he realized why Leo was asking. “He is, but don’t let him get started on it, or else he will never stop. Besides, he’s not my boyfriend, I prefer calling him…”

“A significant nuisance?” Will showed up from the dining room, carrying a plate full of food. “Don’t mind him, he just warms up a bit slow.”

“Yes, this is Will,” Nico sighed, addressing those who hadn’t met them before. “Sometimes he’s a nuisance, sometimes he can be quite OK. When he’s having a good day.”

“Same back at you, dear,” Will laughed. “Did I hear someone mention Star Wars, though?”

“You did,” Leo said, stepping forward so Will could see his costume better. Needless to say, Will looked beyond thrilled.

“Oh boy, here we go again,” Nico said quietly before Will even had time to comment on the costume.

“Woah, that must be the best C-3PO costume I’ve seen. And yeah, I’ve seen a few so I don’t compliment you for nothing,” Will assured.

“Thanks, man, I did spend quite a while with it,” Leo said, high fiving Will. “Glad someone here appreciates good things.”

“I still hope you’re not one of those fans who have only seen the most recent movies and not the originals,” Will noted.

“Heck, no!” Leo exclaimed immediately. “The original three for the win! Mom and I used to watch them a lot… um, when I was little. She was a big fan. But the newer ones just don’t feel the same.” Calypso had a feeling Leo had almost said something else, but he had changed his phrasing at the last moment.

“You have a pretty good taste,” Will said approvingly. Then he finally realized he hadn’t even asked Leo and Calypso’s names before getting into the geek mode.

“So, who are you two? I already met Percy and Annabeth earlier but I don’t think I know you guys yet.”

“I’m Leo Valdez, and this is my, um, flatmate, Calypso Astal,” Leo introduced. Calypso hoped there was a better word to describe their relationship than a ‘flatmate’ but at the moment it was probably the best and the safest option there was.

“Flatmates, huh?” Will repeated. “How did that happen?”

“I was in a hurry to find a roof over my head so I put in the application that I also accept mixed flats,” Calypso replied. “I didn’t meet Leo beforehand because, um, that would have been a bit difficult to arrange in this case, but it worked out OK.” Calypso noticed Leo was looking at her from the corner of his eye, and she realized she had never even talked about that option before. The truth was that she had had to plan her leaving very thoroughly so her father wouldn’t notice and she had driven to Indianapolis as fast as possible, with no time for second guessing.

“And my flat happened to have a room free because our boy Jason decided to move in with Beauty Queen,” Leo added to that story. “It’s really no stranger than that.”

“Oh, right, someone must have mentioned that you and Jason used to be flatmates,” Will recalled. “I just didn’t connect the dots.”

Jason had apparently finished welcoming the rest of the guests because he joined the group in the living room. “That reminds me, I don’t think I’ve asked you, Calypso, if Leo still leaves his dishes undone and if he has empty milk cartons in the fridge.”

“He used to do that?” Calypso asked with amusement. “After seeing his room that’s not so hard to picture, but no, he’s been pretty tidy in the common area. Although one time he bribed me to do his dishes for him in exchange for some of his food.”

“It was a good deal!” Leo protested. “You didn’t have to cook and you also got to taste some Valdez’ sizzling hot quesadillas so I’d say it was a win-win. Besides, you didn’t seem to have anything against that.”

“Alright, I will admit the quesadillas were pretty good,” Calypso conceded. “But a true gentleman offers them without even asking. Well, other than that he’s been OK,” she told Jason with a playful twinkle in her eye.

“I guess he really is able to change his habits, then,” he replied. “At least when the flatmate is someone he...”

Before Jason had time to finish his sentence, Leo intervened: “Folks, do we really have to be talking about my cleaning habits in front of people I don’t know? The first impressions are important, especially when it comes to Supersized McShizzle!”

“We’re just being honest, Repair Boy.” Calypso couldn’t resist booping his metal covered nose. Apparently she just didn’t know how to not cross the line with this boy, she sighed in her mind.

“Is that all? Where’s the feisty Sunshine I know?,” Leo said in a low tone, so the others could barely hear his comment, coming out almost flirty.

“Shut up,” Calypso answered equally quietly but held her gaze at him.

“Ahem,” they suddenly heard Piper’s voice behind them. “In case you’ve stopped with the flirting, I’d like you to meet a couple of people.”

Calypso turned to see the newcomers and as she recognized the Hunter badges both of them had attached to their shirts, something in her mind just suddenly turned off.

#caleo #leo valdez #calypso #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #trials of apollo #my fics #caleo uni au

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hanadoesstuffbadly · 4 years

Text

‘Online’ ch I - RS&t7D University AU

Hello, I was looking for Red Shoes fanfiction when I discovered that there are little to no Modern AUs being written. So i figured, screw it, I’ll do it myself because I love modern AUs.

This is the first chapter and it is very long, so if you don’t feel like reading it, fair enough. I’m planning to write the whole thing anyway because I also love writing and it’s good practise.

Small warning if you do want to read this: Merlin is British. I am British. British people are very sarcastic and very moody all of the time. This entire first chapter is from Merlin’s perspective so there are a lot of British phrases and idioms used. If you are fortunate enough to not be an eternally grumpy Brit, don’t worry, the next chapter will be a very bad written impersonation of an American!!

Also, this is my first ever fanfiction so please don’t judge me too harshly, I am but a young peasant girl.

Sooooooooo.... Summary.

Merlin is a twenty year old student at Southend University. To combat his detrimental narcissism, his counsellor suggests online gaming. Merlin tries to cheat by using an ancient game called Fairytale Island, which designs your avatar to match a photograph. This plan falls apart when his laptop explodes, turning his avatar tiny and green. He ploughs on regardless, sure that he will encounter nobody. Little does he know, that a newly moved student from the States is coming online the very same night. :)

(It’s kinda switched so Merlin is the last of the F7 to get his attitude set right.)

With that done... I hope you don’t hate it!

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Merlin couldn’t stand mornings, especially Friday mornings. Because for the duration of his first year of Uni, Friday’s lessons had always begun at the reasonable hour of 2 o’clock in the afternoon. This left Merlin a good half hour to be awake, out of the door and on his bike, zipping past the crowded Southend beaches. In short, Merlin hated Friday mornings because he had not seen one in fifteen months. Needless to say, it was not a welcome reunion.

Approximately twelve minutes prior to commencing with today’s zipping -at the unlawful hour of nine in the morning- Merlin had been idly stirring shredded wheat into a depressing gruel (much to the disgust of the ever-vigilant, ever-attentive, red-haired cook,) basking in his own tardiness.

Had he asked for counselling? No.

Did he need counselling? None of their business.

Did he want to be dragged out of bed at half-eight by six overbearing housemates who apparently believed it was "necessary" or "overdue"; to be packed off to the Resource Centre so that they could “Evaluate any and all emotional or psychological issues which may have arisen for you, as a student whom we have identified as being at risk, before the beginning of this new academic term”? No, he did not!

Contrary to a promising forecast, the sky was a sapphire pool overhead. Thus, the fantasy of motorbiking down empty seafront roads, the brassy drumming of thunder and the gurgle of saltwater smothering his roaring engine (Hans called him a madcap but personally, Merlin preferred the term Raptor-trainer) was squashed. And given that a motorbike charging down the road in the wee hours of the morning was frowned upon, Merlin was forced to content himself with walking at a purposefully counter-productive pace to the bus stop down the hill. Stubbornly, he insisted on himself that he wore a cobalt-blue, long-sleeved shirt with grey trousers; dressing not for the weather he had, but the weather he wanted. This was a stupid idea and the sleeves were rolled up before he reached sea-level. He had to restrain himself from missing a bus entirely. It wasn’t crowded, because of course it wasn’t. Everyone else in Southend had better things to be doing.

Like sleeping.

The bus didn’t even go all the way to the college, stopping at least a dozen yards from the entrance like a noncommittal shrug. It took everything in Merlin to not keep his butt planted securely in his seat; let the busyness of British public transport whisk him away to the Leigh on Sea station; catch a train to Fenchurch street; disappear into Central London; never be seen or heard from again, especially by Dr- as a student whom we have identified as being at risk- LeFey; then inevitably die from water pollution at a ripe old age of thirty-five. It took everything in him, but he walked down to the building, through glass-doors ornamented by a million sweaty fingerprints, and into a waiting room that smelt of Sellotape.

Unsurprisingly, the stately woman at the desk gave him barely a passing glance, handing him a form to fill in with the enthusiasm of an automatic door sliding open. Also unsurprisingly, the assistant behind her paused in rearranging a filing cabinet to brush a couple of sandy hairs behind her ear and chew the end of a pen like it was made of liquorice. She even wandered aimlessly away from her task altogether, sidling up to the front desk most inconspicuously.

Merlin's mood brightened. While he leant down to scribble his name and address on the paper, he winked discreetly in her direction. In spite of definitely not looking at him, her cheeks turned beetroot crimson and what might have been a giggle or the beginnings of a small heart attack escaped her lips.

Against all of the shoddiness of his day so far, Merlin grinned inwardly, sizing her up with half of his attention. Tall, slender, twenty-one, twenty-two most likely. Stray blonde curls framed a thickly tanned face, the rest piled atop her head in a bun. In all, not a bad picture, although her wardrobe did leave something to be desired: Bell-bottomed jeans and a T-shirt reading "Darth Vader was framed", betraying that

A. She still thought that bell-bottomed anything was a good look, and

B. That she had never paid more than six quid for a shirt.

However, her figure and the hang of her hair more than made up for those discrepancies. Perhaps he could get something out of this counselling after all. With this in mind, he cleared his throat loudly,

"I'm terribly sorry, Miss," he waved the form vaguely in front of his face, "but I have a small problem."

Perhaps knowing exactly what he was doing and being used to it by this point, the woman, Ms Marion- who had decided that underneath a lace cardigan was the place for a name tag- ignored him completely, leaving miss bell-bottoms to round the edge of the counter and come to stand by his side over the offending form.

"What's the matter?" She asked, sincerely.

"Y'see," Merlin began, fixing her with a smile that even Jack admitted made anyone weak at the knees, "right here it's asking me for something that I just don't really get." He pointed accordingly, and bell-bottoms leant in closer. To get a really good look at the text, of course.

"We need your mobile number."

"Oh, I see, now here's the thing." Wearing a look of utter helplessness, he faced bell-bottoms completely. She appeared confused, her face becoming redder by the second. "I don't have one of those."

"What?"

"A mobile number." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You wouldn't mind terribly giving me yours, would you?"

If he squinted, Merlin was fairly certain he would see her bell-bottomed soul leaving her body and fluttering out of the window. He took her lack of reaction as an invitation,

"Lin Pendragon." He extended one hand, still cloaked in a fingerless glove the colour of wet bark. Despite his housemates deciding otherwise, Merlin was in fact not his actual name, and he would sooner be caught dead than introducing himself with it to an attractive young woman such as this. "Part time Ancient Historian, full time Romantic."

Bell-bottoms took the hand and shook it with unexpected firmness,

"Gowlle Delocks. Part time assistant, full time, um..." She seemed a little lost, floundering like a GCSE English paper "Full time-"

"Doctor Morgan LeFey. Part time tolerator of tardiness. This is not one of those times Mister Pendragon."

Spinning on his heel and effectively knocking the form onto the floor, Merlin faced the speaker, who stood in the doorway of a side-office like a disgruntled flamingo.

One thing came to mind when Merlin looked at the counsellor and that was the smell created when someone burns popcorn in a microwave. Forehead too small; nose too large, a hairy wart taking up most of it; everything that should end in a curve ending in an acute, needle-like point. She looked like a bad imitation of a Picasso painting come to life. Yellow hair that might have been blonde hung from her scalp, which he could almost see for how thin the stuff was; and her olive skin was definitely closer to a pale, sickly green from where Merlin was standing. The murky, sky-blue gown that would have looked excessive in the nineteenth century certainly didn't help. Summed up, she looked like a creature one would throw something at if it approached them on a dark night. Merlin felt his nose wrinkle in disgust.

So, he had been forced into counselling by a literal witch. Today was just going swimmingly wasn't it.

Dr Lefey's "office" was exactly what Merlin expected. Save of course for a cauldron, broomstick and small children in display cases. Indigo curtains rather than blinds hung at each side of a wide picture window that looked out on a garden peppered by horrendous little gnomes. Their China faces were stained green by years of mildew build-up. Her wooden floor she had covered with gaudy, knitted rugs, and the sides of her desk had glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to them. On the off-white walls hung various, tasteless frames of all sorts and colours, each depicting a photograph taken by somebody who was evidently not a professional photographer. One such picture especially caught his eye.

"This you, Miss… Lefty?" The question was stupid, of course it was her, every other human being on the planet had at least managed to look like one. The photo showed the woman sitting in a cluster of children underneath a cobbled-together shack, a paper tiara on her head and a wand made out of several plastic straws. "The fairy princess in the mauve cardigan?"

"First," She answered, pushing the door shut behind her with her pointy hip, "It's Doctor Lefey, but you will call me Morgan in these sessions." Merlin couldn't help but smirk internally when she assumed there would be more than one of these nightmares. "Second, yes, that is me in the photograph, November, four years ago, Uganda, a recycling activity. And third," The slam of a hefty file being dropped unceremoniously on to a desk made Merlin jump. "I was the fairy Queen."

"Well, your majesty," he ducked his head in a mock bow, "you've aged..." At first, he searched for an adverb but then realised, he didn't particularly need one.

Morgan gave Merlin that pinched smile that he'd seen Arthur's girlfriend, Gwen, give customers at The Golden Goose Cafe when they told her she had no idea who she was dealing with. Also called the 'booting-you-into-next-Thursday-would-cost-twenty-pounds-an-hour-but-i-am-legitimately-considering-it' face. Merlin ignored her easily. He'd had years of practise doing so.

He plopped himself down onto a teal green sofa with a ketchup stain running up one arm. It wasn't a comfortable seat, but the garish pixie cushion did help somewhat. Morgan paid him no attention, leafing through the thick file which she had retrieved moments before. She paid him no attention for a little too long.

As aforementioned, Merlin was fine with ignoring people. Even enjoyed it sometimes. Unattractive waitresses, bin-collectors, overweight people at the gym, pedestrians. Being ignored, however, was a far less comfortable experience. Probably because it was such a rare one. He coughed into the pasty silence.

"Those your medical records?" The room was quiet enough to facilitate a pin drop sounding like a bowling ball being dropped. A long, controlled intake of breath was easily made out. “Cosmetic surgery?”

"No." She said shortly, continuing with her browsing, "but they are yours." Merlin quickly stopped ignoring her. "And your birth records and your parents birth records and every other detail of your stimulating life story, Merlin." He short-circuited momentarily.

"That's not my-"

"No, it isn't your given name, but it's what your roommates call you and according to them, the one you prefer going by." Alright, those googly snitches were going to pay later. He recovered from his surprise gracefully as always, but that left him no less indignant.

"I- I wasn't aware that you'd have access to that information."

"Several reliable sources have identified you as being at risk, Merlin, everything in this folder is strictly need-to-know." A smile that could have been genuine spread across her features, and it may have been nice if it weren't so nauseating to look at. He crossed his arms and sunk lower into the sofa, muttering to himself,

"You hardly 'need-to-know' about the name though."

"Obviously, anything said in this session doesn't leave this room and the values and standards of Southend University are to be observed at all times." With quick strides on legs like skipping ropes, Morgan left her desk and placed herself gracelessly on a trademark shrink chair.

The ‘So, Merlin.’ Was audible on her spindly lips before they left them.

"So, Merlin. First, I'd like you to relax," Difficult, I'm sitting across from a gorgon, I'm a man moments from death, "and tell me about your background, where you're from, your family." He gave her a blank look.

"You just told me that you have a massive file telling you that stuff."

"Yes, but I'd like to know that you also know that stuff. Reviewing your case will prove very difficult if we aren't on the same page. Now, if you please." With an exasperated puff of air into his cheeks, Merlin leant forward so that his elbows braced against his knees and his hands clasped together.

"Fine. I was born in Seoul, South Korea; my parents died in a car accident when I was three. I was brought to England to live with an aunt in Ipswich."

"And you were comfortable with this change?" The interruption caused Merlin to blank for a second.

"Wha- I was three. I was comfortable sitting in a tumble dryer with knickers on my head!" This retort was not appreciated, judging by the tapping of Morgan's pencil against a green clipboard that had seemingly materialised out of thin air.

"These are regulation questions, try not to overthink your answers." With this she returned to drawing writing utensils from the ether apparently, a silent signal for him to continue. Already, Merlin's mind was going through fantasies of sprinting down the hill, across the high street and off the end of Southend pier.

"Alright then, the aunt was arrested when I was six-"

"Why was she arrested?"

"Are shrinks meant to interrupt their patients?"

"I'm not a shrink, I'm a University counsellor, why was your aunt arrested?" Nothing about this experience was relaxing. Getting a Frostino with Miss Delocks, the part-time-assistant would have been relaxing.

"Possession of illegal firearms. Just a taser. Five years in prison under the law of the United Kingdom. Happy?"

"Yes, this is very helpful. So, your guardian was arrested and…"

"I went into care, obviously. Seven foster homes over six years. Adopted after my eleventh birthday by Igraine Pendragon and her husband. I moved into their home in York, Summered in Cumbria; went to school with their son. Igraine died when I was fifteen, Uther when I was seventeen. Arthur and I moved out to one of the cottages we own in Leigh two years ago. It was all perfectly fine and now here I am at Southend University in a counselling session I didn't ask for with a counsellor that I'm certain nobody has ever asked for." Okay, the last bit slipped out half unwarranted, but he might as well be honest.

Long, mole-flecked fingers curled and tightened around the edges of her clipboard, leaving dents in the malleable green cork like it was plasticine.

"Right." Came a snarled response from between smiling teeth. "Now, on to some more current information: Who do you live with during your time at the University?"

"Igraine’s son, Arthur, and the five student tenants who rent out rooms." That felt weird to say. For some reason, whenever Merlin thought about the six other occupants of Stanrocc cottage, it was hard to remember that they weren’t all related in one way or another.

“Right, and are you comfortable with these living arrangements?”

“I’m a University student who gets to live in a fully catered house free of charge, what do you think?” The pinched ‘threaten-to-speak-to-my-manager-again-and-I-will-hit-you-with-a-shoe’ smile returned.

“Okay then.” A rustling of paper signalled that the background questions were mercifully coming to a close, as, Merlin hoped, was this entire experience. Unfortunately, the next words out of the witches’ mouth weren’t, ‘thank you for your time, Mister Pendragon, I hope you and Miss Delocks have a splendid afternoon.’ Instead she intertwined her grotesque fingers and looked him in the eye. The fact that he didn’t turn to stone was a shock.

“Now, Merlin, I’d like to know what features you look for when meeting new people.” Alright, not what he’d wanted or expected to hear.

“Is this a personal interview-”

“Just-” Morgan closed her eyes and pressed her lips together until they completely disappeared into her face. “Answer the question, Merlin.”

“I look for the same things anyone looks for. Do they look approachable? Would I want to be seen with them out and about? Those kinds of things.” He darted his eyes from Morgan’s varicose ankles to her sloping forehead.

“So, you base the value of other people’s company solely upon their outward appearance and draw any and all judgements from those assets?” There were too many words in that sentence, was all Merlin could think in response. When he did finally puzzle out what the question actually was, he gave the woman a jovial nod. Finally, they were on the same wavelength.

“Of course I do, how a person looks tells you a lot about who they are, doesn’t it?”

Morgan must have been writing something down, but it still felt as though her eyes had not left Merlin for a second. An intake of breath through her wide nostrils filled the room.

“To some extent, maybe.” She shifted on her chair and the look in her eye of a person who had gotten exactly what they wanted was unnerving. “Merlin, do you think you feel this way about other people because these mentalities could have been forced on you in the past?” Her nasal voice had become one of understanding and professionalism, the Northern accent thinning considerably. Merlin didn’t like it at all. “Maybe you feel as though you personally are liked or disliked for nothing besides how you look?”

Throughout this entire, stupid session, Merlin had been wanting to avoid answering questions. Now all he wanted to do was say something so devastating yet so on point that it would shut this witch up for the rest of her career. And yet his tongue remained still, rooted to the floor of his mouth.

“I see.” The counsellor stood and shook out her skirts with the smug air of a woman victorious. Merlin wanted to throw something at her. Like a shoe. She went around to the back of her desk and retrieved a post-it-note shaped like a unicorn. “I’m giving until the beginning of the new term to combat this problem that we seem to have here." In one motion she ripped away the post it note and was making her way back towards him, brandishing it like a literal curse rather than simply the figurative one that it clearly was. She handed it to him unforgivingly.

"I'd like you to try a social activity that is purely audio based. Interactions with others that don't allow them to see your appearance." The urge to crumple the note into a ball was strong. “I’ll schedule another session three weeks from now.”

"And what if I'm perfectly happy with the way things are? I don't need to change anything." Merlin shot back, and control of the situation brushed his fingertips before Morgan's condescending smile dragged it out of reach again.

"Tell me, Merlin, how many reports do you think I received from your professors and peers of this self-important, judgemental behaviour?" Merlin was already standing as he milled the question over for a full couple of seconds.

"One or two, I'd imagine." He finally mumbled. The witch drummed her pencil against her crossed arms and shook her head. "Well," Merlin started, "it can't have been-"

"Twenty-four." She didn't look victorious now, just a little sorry. That was so much worse. "Twenty-four different people, who you have known for only a year or so. Still think you don't need to change anything?"

Merlin didn't want to look around at her ridiculous face again. He didn't think he even knew twenty-four people well enough for them to report him. Her voice carried on no matter how much he wanted it not to.

"If I don’t see improvement three weeks from now, regardless of how you feel about it, I won't have anything to present against a decision to remove you from your course entirely."

The facts stung like poisonous, green smoke in Merlin's head. He pulled at the ornamented door handle, dismissing himself. Then a question came into his mind and forced itself to be asked.

"What activities would you suggest, then?"

"Start an interactive podcast; volunteer for a University chat-line; Online gaming." Merlin's humourless scoff punctuated her list.

"Yeah, no. I'm not an ‘over the phone’ kind of guy." He stepped out into the hallway and noticed Miss Delocks' head spin in his direction. The last ten minutes had dampened any mood he might have been in for going out, but that didn't mean he couldn't at least try to cheer himself up. He heard one last reply from the witch before he strode off in the assistant’s direction,

"Keep that attitude up and you won't be a "Part-time Ancient Historian" either."

In case the presence of a pale pink fiesta with mermaid stickers running along the doors wasn’t indicative enough, the loud guffaws and scattered shouts told Merlin that his housemates had company. This was before he even reached the top of the hill. Night was creeping across the sky already. Merlin would have liked to stay out longer, but the witches’ words had stuck a little too keenly to him, and a college bar surrounded by five beautiful young ladies was not, it seemed, the best place to process things.

Stanrocc cottage was one of a kind really. It was called a cottage because it managed to be too small to be a villa but also too pretty to be a house. The walls were brick, covered in an artsy kind of cement stuff with shells mixed into it, then painted white. Kingfisher blue window frames peeked out from beneath an overgrowth of marble-like gladioli and ballet-slipper foxgloves. The diminutive front garden was mostly taken up by the wild-cherry tree that had looked hurricanes and landfalls in the face, released a string of angry expletives and stayed precisely where it was with zero intention of ever going away. Around its ankles sprung up Snowdrops every Winter, but right now, in the twilight of August, the space was taken up by a hoard of decaying daffodil corpses.

Through one of the windows, a blonde head was just visible. It stood up haphazardly and came to the door when Merlin knocked. Jack appeared in the doorway, but he’d barely laid eyes on Merlin before he was leaning back inside and shouting into the noisy fray, his accent thick, probably from laughing,

“Ee’s back!” With that he left the door hanging open. Merlin entered, a little disgruntled at the lack of welcome, until he got inside and found out why. Seated on the various beanbags, chairs, and sofas, were their usual six occupants, but with them were four less usual ones. Alright, not that unusual, three of them Merlin knew he recognised.

First was Arthur’s fiancée, Gwen. She was a common recurring visitor. Whenever Arthur wasn’t following her around the café, she was following him around the cottage. The other two present were less clearly defined by engagement rings or Facebook relationship status’.

Upon sitting back down on his very expensive armchair, Jack had one-hundred-and-fifty centimetres of pink-leggings wearing, ashen skinned vegetarian seating herself comfortably on his lap. That one was Viviane… Or Niniane. Merlin never actually paid attention when Jack gushed about her, but he was almost sure her name was one of those. She was Jack’s “study partner'', both of them being up and coming chemists. Funny, because to Merlin’s knowledge, studying didn’t usually involve reclining on each other’s laps; playing with each other’s hair (or her playing with his, at least) and going out on spa trips together. If they weren’t together, Merlin couldn’t blame Jack. All spread-out, round eyes and large lips, she did look a little like a fish with legs.

Lastly there was Briar. Nobody actually knew what Briar was. Was she Hans’ friend? His girlfriend? A kind of omnivorous goat? It was a mystery. Altogether they knew seven things about her: Like Hans, she was German; she took fencing lessons; her wardrobe consisted entirely of ankle-length, floaty skirts and a special talent of hers was tripping over literal air. She slept with a baseball bat, wore purple contacts in her eyes and, while you wouldn’t imagine so from her physique, she had the appetite of a full grown horse. They didn’t even know what she was doing at the Uni. With her legs folded in front of her, she leant on her maybe-boyfriend-maybe-friend’s signature bean bag chair, one hand holding a row of scrabble pieces. The other was surreptitiously burrowing through Hans’ homemade bag of steak flavoured crisps, which famously tasted like dog food to everyone but those two. The curly-headed bag-holder didn’t seem to mind at all.

There was one other girl with them, seated on a folding chair between Briar’s feet and Arthur’s elbow. Merlin gave her barely a passing glance however, taking in a round figure, cherry-pink shorts, and shoulder-length brown hair before he lost interest.

Maybe you feel as though you personally are liked or disliked for nothing besides how you look.

The counsellor’s stupid voice drove through his thoughts unbidden like an off-rail train. He shook his head and shoved them back down into his subconscious where they belonged, ready to be forgotten.

The ringing of the words, however, was replaced by his stomach gurgling irritably. A muffin and a salted-caramel hot chocolate were not enough to go on for a whole afternoon. His eyes fell on the Chinese food containers strewn about the coffee table and surrounding floor. A takeaway was a rare occasion in Stanrocc cottage. In the entire county of Essex, there were exactly four fast-food establishments that Hans trusted and respected, and thus, would allow them to purchase from. Two of these were fish-and-chip shops; one- Merlin’s particular favourite- did flame-grilled kebabs; and the last one was the Jade Dragon Restaurant. Very expensive- meaning Jack was probably to thank for it- and very, very good Chinese food. It dawned on Merlin a little late that this uncharacteristic treat might have been meant to make him feel better, judging by the sizeable stack of barbecue kebab boxes that could be seen just inside the kitchen door. Nobody else liked barbecue kebabs.

But he was too tired and too hungry to feel bad for not coming back. He’d been busy.

The energetic game of scrabble had come to a standstill when his arrival was announced. Now ten pairs of eyes were on him and six of them were concerned. Merlin made for the kitchen, the multitude of expectant faces making his chest knot.

“Don’t worry about me,” he insisted, half-heartedly when he noticed both Arthur and Hans shifting as if to get up. “I’m going to bed.”

Noki, the second of the triplets, swept up a container filled with Prawn crackers and extended them in Merlin’s direction. He waved them away dismissively.

“Really, it’s fine, I’ll grab something from the fridge.” And with that he left the room.

Much to his dismay, the fridge was a sorry sight, being mostly bare save for half a watermelon and an empty milk carton. It was a Friday, he soon remembered, which meant Hans would be grocery shopping tomorrow. Also, Briar was there.

Footsteps came thudding along the short passage between the living room and the kitchen. Merlin didn’t have to look up to know that an orange vest with arms was blocking the door.

“What do you want, Arthur?” Even in the fridge, Merlin could feel the glare in the back of his head. Crossed arms also wouldn’t be a surprise.

“I want to know where you’ve been, and why you didn’t feel the need to tell us you weren’t coming back?” Merlin finally selected a yogurt cowering at the very back with a best-before date of yesterday. He shut the fridge door with his foot, searching for a clean spoon on the draining board.

“You know you aren’t actually my dad, right?” He plunged the end of the spoon through the paper covering and started ripping the excess away. “I can go where I want.”

“No.” Arthur had now moved completely into the room. “But you’re still one of us, mate, and we were all worried. The triplets almost got in the truck to come pull you out of whatever ditch you’d fallen into.” Merlin actually looked him in the face this time. He was scratching his ghost of a goatee the way he always did when he felt in deep water. “You didn’t exactly leave in great spirits this morning.”

“Lurrk, uum fyrn.” Merlin said through a mouthful of yogurt. The stuff was absolutely repulsive, but it was the best conversation avoidance technique he had without a book to hand. He manoeuvred around Arthur, trying desperately to keep from openly weeping at the foul stuff. The best-before date ought to have been the may-not-kill-you-before date.

“Yeah,” Arthur sighed behind him. “I can see that. But you’re-“ Merlin dashed up the stairs, discarding the yogurt discreetly in the kitchen bin as he passed it.

Arthur had changed since meeting Gwen. It was like something had been plucked out of him. The thing that had made Merlin feel close to him while everything was happening: The adoption, losing both their parents. It was like Arthur had grown up, changed somehow. And had left Merlin behind.

And from what he had seen in the other room, Arthur wasn't the only one.

Merlin emptied the yogurt out of his mouth and gargled mouthwash to get rid of the lingering flavour of overripe strawberries. A knock at his bedroom door interrupted him.

“What did the counsellor say?” It was Arthur again. Merlin had honestly had enough of today. Why couldn’t everyone just leave him be? He wasn’t hurting anyone.

He poked his head out, startling his friend who still had his fist raised to knock again.

“She suggested I take up gaming.”

-*-

Hours later, Merlin turned over his pillow again, trying his absolute hardest to fall asleep. He’d tried relaying a movie in his head, but thinking about the ending just made him sad. He’d tried reading his new book, but Neil Gaiman wasn't particularly relaxing. At last he had just shut his eyes and told himself to sleep, with real authority and gumption. That just made him more awake because his brain hated him.

Eventually he sat up and tugged the string on his lamp. The clock on his desk told him it was 2:26. Merlin’s bones told him that he was actually in a void in which time was a construct of society, and he felt much more inclined to believe the latter. Seeing as somebody, probably Hans, had left a plate of reheated kebabs in front of his door, Merlin hadn’t starved, so he couldn’t explain the hollow discomfort that was plaguing him now.

Actually, he could, he just didn’t want to.

Twenty-four people thought he was a self-important, narcissistic idiot.

Walking around his room to clear his head quickly turned into walking downstairs and into the kitchen to get some shreddies. There were still a few chocolate ones left, them mercifully being the one cereal that Briar didn’t love more than life itself.

As he dejectedly spooned the stuff into his mouth, green smoke came unfiltered through his head again, spelling out: I won't have anything to present against a decision to remove you from your course entirely. Merlin groaned and pulled at his bark coloured hair.

Ancient and Medieval History, while not a popular course, was still difficult to get into. Only twelve or so universities in the country even offered it. And even then, Southend alone offered the module on folklore and mythologies. So many essays, so many projects, so much time spent reading about the sordid love-lives of ancient deities. For nothing apparently. All because some people he didn’t know thought he was self-obsessed.

Nothing added up.

And gaming? Really. Podcasts and chat-lines were an instant nope, but gaming. In his entire twenty years, Merlin had played one game and one game alone. And well, that one was…

Next thing he knew, Merlin had left the congealed cereal lonely on the sink and was fighting his way through a wall of cobwebs into the storage room. The lights hadn’t worked in there for years, so Merlin clasped a battery powered torch from Colchester castle like a lifeline.

With his finger and thumb he gingerly shifted bicycles, boxes of DVDs and even a taxidermy rabbit that had gone to holes, until he saw it. The shiny, green corner of a laptop-games-console-hybrid emerged from the darkness. And then was immediately plunged back into it when the torch exploded in Merlin’s hand, the light flickering away with a puff of smoke. Merlin had expected this, but that didn’t stop him from grabbing the game and high-tailing it out of the storage room before the shadows could grab his ankles and eat him. Safe in his own bedroom again, Merlin intrepidly opened the game.

Fairytale Island was created by Avalon Games nine years ago. In its entire run, localised in Southern England, it sold about three-hundred consoles. These consoles were box-like laptops, but a more accurate comparison would be an oversized Nintendo DS. The keyboard-space was taken up by the controls, while the screen was above. Graphics-wise, it was surprisingly ahead of its time. What you did was you uploaded a full body photograph of yourself, lined up the limbs and head, and voila, you had your avatar!

This particular console had been bought by an incredible woman named Igraine, for the eleven year old boy whom she had fearlessly rescued. Merlin ran a finger gently over the sticker, feeling the scratchy remnants of its glitter-glue border. On it was a simple little message, rounded off with a clumsy smiley face and the letter I, in wide swirling print.

For the most handsome Prince on Fairytale Island!!!

Obviously his avatar had to change, lest he wanted to continue with the slenderman-esque creature created by his imaginative twelve-year-old self.

Merlin had to stand on his bed to get himself into the frame of his plug-in webcam. Not really knowing what to do with his arms, he did the only rational thing and T-posed. In his pyjamas. In front of a game for preteens. At twenty past two in the morning.

If one of his housemates came in now he would kill them and dissolve the body in acid.

The screen counted down, readying the camera.

Three… Two… O-ghlowhfsajfhlsdkhlhdsjfh…………….Error………...rebooting, thank you for your patience.

Well. That seemed fair.

Hopping down as quietly as possible, Merlin watched the static clear from the screen like ghost lightning. He should have expected it. Motorcyclists had long said that ‘Love is when you like someone as much as your motorbike.” Merlin was inclined to disagree, because his bike was the one piece of mechanical equipment that didn’t figure it should explode whenever he dared breathe nearby. No bond would ever be able to trump that kind of loyalty.

Reservedly, he fiddled with a Rubix cube until the screen returned to normal. Nothing seemed that wrong with it.

Until his avatar loaded again.

A brief visit to the bathroom mirror was made so that Merlin could examine both his eyes, but when he came back they found the same sight.

Where there should have been a tall, thin, carrot-shaped, Merlinish mage character, there now resided a tiny, stout- if still Merlinish- one. And it was green. Not even a nice green, like fern or emerald or sage. This was a green that reminded a person of snot and nothing else… Except maybe a dehydrated basil plant.

Merlin bashed his head against the edge of his desk. What had that witch done to him? Why was he concerned about this?

Giving up on answering that question, he looked up to face the diminutive monster that bobbed in place like an excitable pea with legs. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, he tried to reason. If he didn’t focus, it almost looked like an obese, unwell Gollum. But hey, maybe the other players will like that kind of thing?

Without realising it, Merlin scoffed out loud at himself.

Other players? This game had a range of a thousand kilometres squared and was being handled by a technopollyon (a word that was not a word until Merlin discovered there was no term for a person who inadvertently breaks technology, but there were a multitude of Greek words that he could misuse in its place.)

The chances of another pathetic Englishman within his third of Essex being in possession of and online on Fairytale Island at two-thirty that night, were not worth thinking about. Because they were nonexistant.

With that in mind, Merlin took one last bitter look at his avatar, and continued resolutely on to game.

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Wow! Thanks for reading that!!! I hope you enjoyed it!

(Btw, Gwen, Viviane and Briar are my headcannons for the end credit characters and Morgan LeFey is the fairy princess)

Again, thanks so much. I’m putting the next chapter up at some point, this one from Snow’s perspective.

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blueboxesandtrafficcones · 4 years

Text

The Gift of One’s Self

Day 3 of 2020′s 31 Days of Ficmas. Thanks @doctorroseprompts!

Prompt: Shopping

Rating: T (discussions of sex & sex toys; no “use”)

Pairing: 13xRose (AU)

Summary: Sparks fly when just before Christmas Jane comes into the adult toy store where Rose works, leading them to reevaluate what they think they’re looking for in a partner and making the connection of a lifetime.

2020 31 Days of Ficmas masterlist

AO3

---

Rose stood behind the cash register, humming along to the Christmas music piping through the store. It was her first Christmas season in several years not spent at Henricks, and though she was still in retail, the boutique adult toy shop she’d joined in August had an easier-going pace; though business had picked up in the last few weeks as December drew near, it didn’t come close to the frenetic pace of the department store.

Especially not at ten in the morning on a random Tuesday.

The bell above the door tinkled, forewarning the entrance of a customer, and she straightened from where she’d been slouched on the counter, pasting on her best customer service smile. “Good morning, welcome to Handled With Love, can I help you today?”

The woman bee-lined towards her, eyes wide and directed towards the ground, and Rose held back a sigh. She was late twenties like Rose, also with peroxide blonde hair, and the overpowering air of someone who had never seen a sex toy before, and didn’t want to now. Her cheeks were already crimson, and likely not from the reasonably moderate temperature outside. This’ll be fun.

“Hi,” the woman muttered, peeking up at Rose as she reached the counter. “Erm, I’m here for a pickup – Amy Pond? It’s Hen Night stuff. She called to say I was coming. Jane Smythe?”

“Yes, of course, hang on.” Rose verified the details in the order book, glancing at the woman’s proffered ID long enough to confirm the name. “Thank you.” Turning, she dragged the prepared bag out from under the back counter, settling it before the woman with a thunk. “Shall I review the order with you?”

The woman, Jane, had found enough courage to lift her head, but was staring at the sample-size lubes in front of the cash register with more than a hint of fear. “Er…” Fumbling in her pocket, she pulled out a piece of paper. “Can you just…”

Rose accepted it, laying it on the desk and checking off the items compared to the order. “First time in a sex shop?”

“That obvious?” Jane flinched. “Erm, yeah. I don’t really… do that.”

“What, have sex?” Rose’s eyes widened in horror, darting up to look at the woman, cringing inside. “I’m so sorry, that was completely inappropriate. Forget I asked.”

Surprisingly, she relaxed slightly, offering Rose a tentative smile. “It’s okay. And, yeah, basically. I’m… I’ve never had an interest in it. Amy called it something- but, honestly, I’d already tuned her out.”

“Asexual. Means you don’t experience any sexual attraction.” Her own cheeks heated a little; part of the reason she’d taken this job (against her mother’s objections) was to lose some of her prudishness, wanting to be more comfortable with her own sexuality. That had meant a crash course in all things preference and gender related, all kindly included as part of her on-boarding. “Nothing wrong with that.” Checking off the last item, she folded the list back up and handed it over. “I just need you to sign here,” she slid the order page over, “as confirmation of pick-up. It’s all paid for already. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Jane bit her lip, warm brown eyes darting around. “Well… actually, I need a hen party gift, and Amy suggested I try something here. But I know nothing about any of it. Like I said.”

Rose gave her another warm smile. “I’d be happy to help,” she agreed. “D’you have a car you want to take this to first, or keep it behind the desk until you’re ready to go? Just so you’re not lugging it around the store.”

“I’ll take it to the car,” she said with gratitude. “Excellent idea. I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tale.” Gingerly grabbing the bag, she gave Rose a grin and trotted out the door, holding the bag away as if it was a bomb.

This’ll be interesting, if she comes back.

She did, and Rose spent over an hour helping her – it didn’t take long to find something for the bride-to-be, but to Rose’s surprise, halfway to the register the woman confessed that she was maybe open to finding something for herself. It had taken all of Rose’s experience in retail to not react to that, and eventually, helped her pick out something fairly tame that was a good ‘starter’.

Jane crossed her mind occasionally throughout the day, bringing a smile to Rose’s face – it had felt good, to help someone get more in touch with themself, and when she slid into bed that night and pulled out her own favorite “massager” (thank you employee discount!), her thoughts drifting towards the other woman and her toy, she realized she’d been attracted to her.

Oh. Switching off the vibrator Rose sat up, staring blankly at the wall. Is that what this is? With the exception of an experimental phase shortly after the crashing and burning of her relationship with Jimmy, she’d never really considered the idea. It wasn’t that she was opposed to dating girls, she’d just… never really done it, other than a few drunken hookups. Is that what I want?

She had lots of questions, but no answers – the most pressing being, Will I ever even see her again?

Jane sat on her bed, knees curled up to her chest, staring at the innocent-looking wand sitting in front of her. Asking the shop girl about it had been instinct – purely a delay tactic, not ready to leave her presence but not sure why. She’d felt funny, talking to her – like she had a menagerie inside her stomach, her palms sweaty and shaky.

No, not ‘shopgirl’. Rose. “Rose,” she said out loud, savoring the feel of name on her tongue. The woman’s face flashed before her eyes, Jane’s heart jumping at just the thought of her – but it wasn’t just her face. An odd pulsing feeling low in her hips had cropped up every time Rose had smiled at her, pink tongue peeking through pearly white teeth; even now, Jane’s stomach swooped at the thought.

“This has never happened to me before,” she informed the vibrator, feeling a need to defend herself – against what, she didn’t know. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” That was a lie; like any good scientist, she’d googled the sensations as soon as she was home, and been informed she either had some untreatable disease – or a crush. A crush. I’ve never had one of those. That was a lie too; she had, once, at uni, but it had been fleeting, easy to squash and a distant memory.

This, so far, hadn’t. In fact, the more she tried not to think about the shopgirl (Rose), the more she did; her bright eyes, her kind smile, the snug fit of her jumper…

I think I’m in trouble.

It took Rose the better part of a week (and three good wanks, not that she’d ever admit that) for Jane to fade to a background thought. Throwing herself into Christmas shopping and planning had helped, and by the end of the second week, she’d written the “incident” off as little more than a lapse in judgement, and perhaps excessive vanity or narcissism, given their similar appearance.

In fact, she’d worked so hard to remove the encounter from her memory, that she’d managed to stop her heart from leaping every time the bell chimed. Which meant that when it went off first thing the Monday before Christmas, she didn’t look up from the inventory she was stocking, merely calling, “Welcome to Handled With Love, I’ll be with you in just a mo’.”

“Take your time.”

The familiar voice startled Rose so badly she dropped the armful of inventory, and after ducking down to pick it up, came face to face with a blushing, grinning Jane with an armful of dildos. “Hi,” she said, somewhat breathless, before trying for something more in the realm of professional. “Erm, hello. What brings you in today?”

“Hi.” Jane looked as delighted to see her as Rose felt, butterflies taking flight in her gut. “I- erm- thank you for the recommendation, before. I’m interested in… expanding my collection.”

“You are?” Rose cleared her throat, trying again with less surprise. “I mean, you are?” I’m never going to get through this if I have to keep repeating myself. It was almost immediately clearly that while she’d been ignoring the slight attraction she’d felt, it had developed into a full-blown crush on its own.

Jane nodded, twisting her hands in front of her. “Maybe something a little more advanced?”

Rose fought desperately to reengage her salesclerk brain. “Sure. What did you think of your previous purchase? What did you like or not like?” Looking down at the armful of artificial cocks she still held, she dumped them back in the box haphazardly. “Shall we?”

Jane blushed and stuttered her way through the next twenty minutes, shyly admitting to having actually tried with the toy several times but getting disappointing results. Rose was kind and encouraging, gently guiding her towards a different sort of product she thought might help.

The entire time she tried to work up the courage for what she really wanted, dithering over signing the credit card slip in an attempt to delay the inevitable.

“Is everything all right?” Rose asked, wide eyes concerned and feeling like they could see straight through to her soul. “I haven’t pressured you into this, have I? If you’re not happy-”

“It’s not that,” Jane cut her off, tucking her hair behind one ear. “I just… I’m nervous it’s not going to, you know, work. For me.”

Rose nodded. “Sure, I get that. So, our return policy really only applies to things not opened or used – for sanitary reasons – but…” Reaching behind the counter, she pulled out a business card, scribbling quickly on the back. “This is my information, if you’re really not happy I personally guarantee you your money back within 30 days, & I’ve written it here for you. I care more about your happiness than the sale. Okay?”

“Okay.” Jane accepted it, knowing she would never make use of the generous offer – as far as she was concerned, the only thing more embarrassing than buying a sex toy was returning one. Dropping it into her purse, she knew it was now or never. “This might be completely inappropriate-”

“It’s okay, go ahead,” Rose reassured her when she paused.

“Thanks. Erm, the problem may be that I don’t know what I’m doing, with this or the other thing.” Jane licked her lips. “Do you do demonstrations?” In for a penny, in for a pound. “Or personal assistance?”

Rose’s eyes widened, and when she didn’t say anything for several seconds, Jane started to pray for death, but before she could take it back, the other woman said, “Only if you buy me dinner first.”

They stared at each other.

“I’m kidding about the ‘you paying’ bit, but… I would like to get to know you better. Would that be okay?”

Okay? Okay?! Jane was practically floating. “Very much so. Maybe dinner, drinks…” she trailed off, sure her face was scarlet, heart ready to beat itself out of her chest. “Mind you, I’ve never done this before.”

“So you keep saying.” Rose’s lips twitched. “How about this – we go Dutch on dinner, I’ll bring a bottle of wine, and if I can’t sufficiently demonstrate the effectiveness of your purchases, I’ll refund them personally and buy you breakfast.”

“Deal.”

They shook on it.

A year later

“Open it, open it, open it,” Rose chanted, bouncing on her knees. They’d decided Christmas morning was just for them, having been at Jackie’s the evening before and going to Jane’s family for lunch, leaving them to enjoying their first Christmas together in their new, shared flat.

“All right, all right,” Jane laughed. “I’d say keep your pants on, but…” she trailed off with a wink, eyes lingering on the ample skin Rose’s skimpy nighty didn’t cover. Not that she was any more covered up, in boy shorts and a tank. “What do we have here?” Tearing at the paper, she was only slightly surprised to see the logo of their favorite brand of adult toys. “You’re a sex fiend, Rose Tyler.”

“Shut up.” Her girlfriend just grinned, waving for her to continue. “You’ll like it, I promise.”

Jane finished removing the paper to find a pair of pink, fuzzy handcuffs still in the box, and laughed. “Are these a gift for you, or me?” She leaned forward, kissing her in thanks. “I do like it, though how much depends on your answer.”

“Both of us, obviously,” Rose replied, tickling her calf. “But turn it over.”

She did, laughing harder at the Blu-Ray of the 1952 movie Houdini – she’d mentioned in passing being a fan of his tricks weeks earlier, and apparently Rose had been listening. “Okay, I love it.” Setting the gifts down, she leaned towards Rose again, this time cupping her cheek and giving her a slower, deeper kiss. “Happy Christmas, my love.”

“Happy Christmas.” Rose opened her eyes, smiling softly. “To many more.”

“Hear, hear. Now, that’s the last of the gifts and we’ve got several hours before we’re due anywhere. What say you we break these in?”

They raced for the bedroom, and in the end, they both won.

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