#I’ve been shitting bricks with anxiety for two months

[zynful]

Bro if I still have stitches and the doctor doesn’t give me permission to fuck my husband I’ll do it anyway. If I die I die

[liesyousoldme]

there’s something i’ve talked about here before at length but it’s been a long time so just to catch up any newer followers to speed:

(if you know about sara, you can skip to the bolded small paragraph and go from there) (if you don’t know who sara is but want to be in on the post without reading the essay i wrote, there’s a tl;dr at the bottom!)

in college i moved away from home and moved in with my brother, who lived about 45 minutes from my university. my parents knew my anxiety over making friends so they gave me an ultimatum: either you join a club and BE ACTIVE IN IT, or you come back home. so. i joined a sorority.

BEFORE YOU SHIT A BRICK, my school had a very small greek presence. if you rush, you get into one no matter what (not sending girls home crying bc none of the 10 houses on campus wanted them).

i met sara during rush week, first day. zeta was my last house of the day and i was feeling discouraged - no where had felt like somewhere i’d fit in. and then this girl with this bright and colorful tattoo of a cactus on her arm brought me into the house and we talked about mexican food and harry potter (year 2015 ok) and anime. i talked to a few other girls in that house, more of the same. connections. shared interests. god i wanted them to pick me.

fast forward a week and there i was, a new member of zeta “dating” girls from the pledge class above mine to find my big sister, who is your mentor and your best friend and your confidant and your guide all rolled into one.

i’m too tired to go through it all but basically i requested a date with sara bc we weren’t set up for one and we met at a coffee house and talked for hours. best date by far.

and then big/little reveal…. this is us the moment i found out she was my big sister (it’s her face you can see, and the back of my head):

god that picture makes me want to burst. so we got five wonderful months attached at the hip. i can’t talk about it too much because all these years later it still hurts so much. but i called her my “denton best friend” since i already technically had a “best friend” at home. we signed a lease to live together the next school year on december 29th.

on new year’s eve a stranger in his car with his friends pulled up beside sara’s car. she was designated driver and had 3 passengers. i was supposed to be there but i canceled at the last minute and felt awful about it. in the time it takes for a light to turn green, a boy in sara’s backseat and the guys in the other car had a verbal altercation that ended with the driver of the other car shooting twice at the boy in sara’s backseat. unfortunately this happened as sara was driving away.

the first bullet hit the back door and ricocheted down. the second went directly in front of the boy in the backseat and hit sara in the back of the head. she was brain dead instantly, but a donor so they kept her alive.

i remember holding her hand at the hospital. it was swollen and i kept thinking if i didn’t recognize her black chipped nail polish i wouldn’t even know it was her. the bullet exited her left eye so the top half of her head was entirely wrapped up. there were little specks of blood on the bed.

i gave a eulogy at her funeral, and became close with her parents. i was one of their links to denton - they lived about 3-4 hours away in san marcos - and i made and put up a cross with her picture on it at the place her car crashed, against a telephone poll. you could still see blood on the ground.

something that’s harder to explain about greek “families” is that your big sister is more like your mom. so your big sister’s big sister is your grandbig. my grandbig happened to have another little sister, making sara a twin. her twin, claire was my aunt, and her little, another girl in my pledge class, was my cousin. we’re the ones that had signed the lease to live with each other two days before sara was murdered.

that next summer sara’s parents invited her “zeta family” to visit, so we did. being in her childhood home was like walking into a time capsule. but we all got along with her parents very well (her mom greeted us with very expensive tequila shots) and afterward that relationship continued and thrived. it’s helpful for them to have that link to sara, and honestly, it feels helpful to me, too. when they’re in town we get breakfast at sara’s favorite place (and the last place i ever went with her), and i text her mom pretty regularly to keep her updated about my health.

if you already know about sara and my relationship with her parents you can start reading now!

the reason this is relevant is bc clay, sara’s father, and i butt heads on politics on facebook, big time. we’ve never been outright mean to each other, but he’s said some things that have made me take a step back and not reply because i know id say something i couldn’t take back, and this is too important a relationship to risk. i get so nervous posting but im also someone who’s not ever going to be quiet about what i think and what i believe in so i posted something today, and when i saw he commented my stomach dropped because i outright said if you voted for him do not talk to me. this is what i got:

i was shocked. usually it’s a paragraph disputing my every point. does the green heart mean something i don’t know or is it just because it’s my favorite color? i want to take this in good faith but it is so out of character (not him expressing his love, because he always does that at the end of political “discussions” too) for him not to say anything, especially after what i said.

am i reading too much into this? is sara looking down on me saying “im so sorry trump won, ill guide my dad not to be a dick about it”???? (sounds like something she’d do). i didn’t know what to say so i just did the heart react. any way if you made it through this fuckin essay, i love you, that’s amazing, and if you give your opinion my love for you only grows. 🩷🩷🩷

TL;DR one of my best friends was murdered in college. i became close with her parents as a way for all of us to feel closer to her. her dad,clay, and i butt heads about politics on facebook pretty much any time i post anything political. this is what he commented today, and im confused by it. hopeful, but confused.

[halloweenvalentine1997]

Pariah by Vivica Salem

In July 2020, I was released from a state mental institution after a 7 month stay. I was unable to find housing because of my felonies, and my parents didn’t want me back in their house. So a hospital van dropped me off at a local women’s homeless shelter, a brick building with a parking lot on surveillance. I spent the first day or two browsing through used paperbacks donated to the bookshelves. Sitting inside on the utilitarian bed. Going outside to chain-smoke on the blacktop. Everyone around me was talking shit and making me feel dangerous. I used the sign-out sheet to write the time and the reason for my leaving: “walk”.

So I went on a meth binge with my imaginary lovers. Swallowed it from my palm, its dust like a diamond disintegration. We lingered under the freight train bridge, smoking hit after hit with a multitude of people. As the curtain of velvet night fell over the skyscrapers, the courthouse, the smokestacks, the labyrinths, I noticed a young brown haired woman having a bad trip on a drug. She was moving erratically from side to side, and seemed to be fixated on the guy I was talking to. It’s been three years so it’s hard to recollect their faces, but I’ve been haunted by what happened ever since. The guy was around her age, also young. Both were homeless. I was very high and felt V.S., my imaginary spouse, whisper in my ear, “If she’s going to follow this guy, let’s go with her.” Me, the guy and the girl with drug-induced anxiety ended up all walking in the same direction past vacant traffic lights and darkened apartments. We made it to the river and it must have been the middle of the night. I do not understand why I wasn’t feeling any fear, but I helped her drink from a water bottle someone was holding in a vehicle by the serpentine black river. We walked further on and turned to the right through pathways of rocks and green foliage. 

A campsite with a makeshift tent soon came into view. Dismantled books were shredded by a campfire not lit; they must’ve been using the paper remains of the books to cook in the wild, to light a flame. Another girl was sleeping next to a small black kitten. I petted the kitten while I heard the guy say to the girl who followed him there, “I could throw your dead body in the river.” 

“Don’t talk like that!” I snapped.

He quit. The girl who was tripping on drugs walked away from us minutes later. She somehow made her way  through the dark, navigated all those moonlit rocks and fell asleep by a playground, where I saw her in the morning. I’ll never know why I didn’t go with her. Maybe because of the meth I was offered at the campsite. I was glad to ditch the guy, who I could see was as cold as a glacier. I was about to ascend a hill back into the downtown area when I was offered a ride. Like the people from earlier, his face is a blur and I can’t remember what we talked about, smoking meth in his truck. We went to a Motel 6, he went to get more meth and let me stay in the rented room by myself, where I shouted at the TV. I left the room briefly to go have a cigarette. I came back inside the building to discover I was locked out of my room, and my sneakers were still in the room. I told a motel staff but he wouldn’t let me back in to get them.

 “How do I know they’re your sneakers?” When I started screaming, he threatened to call security. They were ugly sneakers anyway. I left in my black socks with my valuables still intact. I walked from the motel until my feet started to burn several minutes later. I sat in the shade next to the first business I saw, a convenience store. Someone placed a bottle of strawberry soda beside me. I felt half-dead. When the staff of the convenience store noticed I was loitering, I told them what happened and why I wasn’t leaving. 

“I don’t have any shoes, and the pavement feels like walking on hot coals.”

They didn’t care. One said I was “worse than dirt”, the other employee tossed my soda bottle into the shrub by a parking space after a lecture about following rules. 

“Now you’re the one breaking the rules,” I said (feeling like laughing). “You’re littering in the bushes.”

The guy who compared me to dirt called the police on his smartphone. 

I didn’t care because it’s not like I had any drugs or weapons on me, anyway. They took a long time to respond, but someone unseen saved my ass. 

Some turquoise flip flops were tossed next to me. I thanked whoever it was profusely, put them on and left the store, never to return. I went back to the freight train bridge, thankfully not having to deal with police. I was glad to see the girl who was mistreated earlier also made her way back from the riverside and was alive. I knew I had to return to the homeless shelter. I was kicked out of there for smoking a cigarette too late at night. The place had a lot of pointless rules for no reason. I returned to my family home and found a way to reconcile things with my parents.

I’ve been sober from methamphetamine for one year. 

I don’t walk outside at night anymore.

I have two Gemini twins of mine that rest upon my shoulders.

One is dressed in black and white, the other favors red and white. 

Three years later and I realize my own identity has become a triad. 

Three years later and I’m not still locked up in jail or the psych ward.

One year without fucking up my mind on meth. 

I don’t want to leave this room. I don’t want to leave imaginary rooms. 

I want to make amends, but I don’t know how. I can’t remember most of what I did wrong.

I don’t want to be dragged through the thorns and thickets of reality anymore, entangled, pricked.

I want to replace grim shades with pastel. I want to hide (with the invisible ones I love) inside a treehouse. 

Into the woods.

Away from the lenses, the screens. 

You can’t put a wire in the trunk of a tree.

You can’t dangle one from the pines.

The only eyes in the woods are those of the wilderness creatures. 

And my own, their own, crowned with bones. 

Butterflies on shadowed violet lids.

A “Keep Out” sign on the door. 

I never want to see anybody again.

[lanadane1]

About You

(Mid-Late December 1984) Chapter 2: The Dance 

Eddie Munson x female!harrington!reader

Chapter summary: A month has passed since the breakup and both you and Eddie have decided you can’t stay apart. However, pride and anxiety seem to have other plans. An awkward school dance might help make a breakthrough in your relationship though... 

Word Count: 6.9k 

series masterlist here

Chapter warnings: 18+ minors DNI for mature themes, angst, smoking (reader), adult language, angst, partying, underage drinking (reader and co.), 18+ suggestive content (not smut just like sporadic, vague mentions of suggestive themes), anxiety, fluffy convos, 

A brick wall made jarring contact with your nose as you rounded the corner of the deserted Hawkins High halls.  Disoriented, you stumble backwards only to be held in place by a pair of steel arms- preventing you from causing any further injury to your persons in the process of reacting to the initial assault on your nose.  Without opening your eyes, you already know who is holding you steady- you’d know the grip on your arms anywhere.  These arms have wrapped around you many of times; to comfort you, to protect you, to pleasure you.  

You open your eyes and find Eddies eyes searching your face and body frantically for any serious damage while locking you in his iron grip.  “Holy shit- y/n I’m so sorry sweetheart are you alright?”  He questioned quickly and apologetically.  

A blush creeped up your neck at the term of endearment as you stepped back from him- needing air between the two of you in order to think straight.  Your arm gripped your chest and the painted concrete wall beside you, providing support to settle your rattled nerves.  

“Yea I’m okay.  Free nose job I guess.” You chuckled, moving your hand from your chest to lightly tap at your nose and feel for anything out of place.  Eddie stifled a belly laugh at your optimistic comment- successfully putting his anxieties to rest.  

“Are you sure I don’t need to drive you to like the hospital or something?”

“I think walking would be a safer option than you driving.”

He clasped his hands together and jabbed them at the center of his chest, pretending to knock the air out of his lungs as he stumbled backwards, “Low blow.  Truly, you wound me.” You giggled as you stooped down to pick up the backpack you dropped in the flurry of the impact and lift it onto your shoulder.  

“What are you doing here so late?  Don’t you know the weirdo’s creep out at night?” he teased at you wiggling his fingers in your face.  “Oh, I’m well aware. I’ve recently had an encounter with one and he damn near broke my nose.”

“Hey, I said I was sor- “

“But I’m a big girl, I can handle them.  Also, I had cheer practice, so I had to stay. I should be asking you why you’re here mister.” You squinted your eyes at him in curiosity.

Eddie crossed his arms and leaned his side against a row of lockers in an effort to look nonchalant, “I think we both know why I’m here.”

You arched your eyebrow, “Stalking me?”

“You wish, weirdo.”

“Coming from the chronic detentionee.”

He rolled his eyes and giggled as you popped your hip out dramatically to the side and rested you hand on top of it in a display of annoyance.

“What were you in for this time?”

“I may or may not have stolen some test answers out of Mrs. Woodhouse’s desk. During her planning period.  And got caught.”

Sighing, you threw your arms up in the air, “Eds!” 

“Hey, you said you wanted me to graduate!  How else am I supposed to do that!” He pushed off the lockers and walked over to the opposite side of the hall, opening his conveniently placed locker, and pulling a pack of cigarettes out.

Your arms dropped back to your hips, and you stroked your chin feigning being deep in thought.  “I’m not sure maybe you could, oh I don’t know, study?”

He craned his neck around to give you a side eye, “Come on, y/n.  Let’s be realistic here.”

You giggled at his antics.  As he lit up a smoke- the warm blanket returned.  It had been a couple of weeks since your last interaction with each other when he gave you a ride home from the party you attended, yet this banter was endlessly more effortless.  You were once more confident around one another.  A comfortable silence returned to envelop the two of you, the playful conversation easing the once tense atmosphere between the you both.  He crossed the hall back to you and extended his hand out, offering you a puff of the cigarette.  

It felt too intimate; putting your lips where his were moments before. However, you couldn’t stop the flutter in your chest or yourself as you reached for the smoke. While you made the exchange, he breathed out the smoke and began elaborating.

“You wanna know the worst part?”  “Oh, do tell.” You pleaded, overexaggerating your interest in his predicament.

He smirked as you took a deep inhale, filling your lungs with the calming depressant that dulled the ever-present ache in your bones for the man who stood in front of you.  

“Woodhouse has taken a particular pleasure in trying give me the hardest time possible.  In order to not flunk the semester, she’s making me run music at the middle school’s dance.” He whined taking the cigarette back from you.

Your face twisted into a confused expression- one that Eddie thought made your look adorably puzzled.  “You’re volunteering at the Snow Ball?” “More like I was volun-told to oversee music. Totally ruining my street cred.” He chuckled out darkly and filled the space between you with the potent smoke from his lungs. Giggling, you retorted back, “Well a little birdie told me all the cool kids are doing it. So, I think your cred is safe.”  

Eddie stared back at your secretive expression, willing you to elaborate on your comment.  You motioned to your mouth and zipped it shut, twisting a phantom key at the corner of your lips, and tossing it behind your shoulder.  “You’re kind of the worst you know.”  Your shoulders shrugged upwards, “Enjoy the crime, you do your time.”  

“Okay Billy Idol.” He scoffed.  

“You knew that?” a twinkle in your eye appeared as it occurred to you, he recognized a line from your favorite artist.  He copied your previous actions and pretended to lock his mouth closed, tossing the key behind his shoulder as you once did.

Silence ensued.  Eyes drank up the sight of each other.  Brains formed phrases you desperately wanted to speak but couldn’t bring yourself to. Arms tingled to entwine yourselves in each other’s beings, noses craved each other’s scents, and ears yearned to once more be graced with the timber of each other’s voices. Infinite longing, silently vocalized into the small space between your bodies and the smoke that lingered by your mouths.  

“You need a ride home?”

“That’s alright, Stevie is probably waiting outside.”  

“You better head out then.  Wouldn’t want to keep the prince waiting.” You rolled your eyes at his snide comment, his disdain for your brother’s popularity peeking through ever so slightly.  

“Alrighty then.  See ya.” You awkwardly waved your arms at him and hiked the strap of your backpack further up the expanse of your shoulder.  As you trekked down the long corridor to the large, glass, double doors, you felt the familiar tingling you got only when his eyes were on you.  

At the doors, your eyes caught an image in the reflection of the hallway lights on the glass- an image of Eddie planted in place with his eyes glued to your form as you glided away from him.  Longing in his eyes and a visible ache in his heart.

You thought for a split second that he might come after you or call out, but then nixed the idea from your mind.  

He broke up with me.  He doesn’t miss me; he just misses the attention.  I can give him attention.  I will give him attention until he doesn’t want mine anymore.  

You push the door open and flee to the comfort of Steve’s presence and the warmth of his car.  Leaving Eddie alone, with no company except for his anxious thoughts.

 _______________________________________________________________

“He did not!” you shrieked at the story your brother relayed to you.  The smell of popcorn drifted through the house and butter clung to both your fingers.  The movie you were supposed to be paying attention to went unwatched in favor of gossiping.  “I swear to God y/n.  He grabbed his hands in front of him-“Steve demonstrated as he described, “-and his shoulders touched!”  

“I know he doesn’t have collarbones, but I’ve never seen it in action.”  

“It was the strangest thing I’d ever seen.  But the kid is kinda cool.  He asked me if I’d drive him to that dance next week.”

“Aw, that’s sweet Stevie.” You pinched at his cheeks with your greasy fingers as he swatted them away.  

“I know I know, I’m a saint.  What can I say?”  

“You still gonna take me too?  Or will I be third wheeling on this playdate of yours?”

He rolled his eyes at your mocking and agreed to transport you along with his newfound sidekick.  

“I found out that Eds is gonna be there.” “Gonna be where?” “At the Snow Ball.”

A pause.

“Voluntarily?” You both chuckle. “More like he was volun-told.”

“And you found this out how?” “I may or may not have run into him yesterday and it just came up.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

“I don’t really know.  I caught him staring at me when I left and I swear he even looked sad, but I feel like it was just wishful thinking.  I’m kind of nervous to dress up all nice in front of him, even if he doesn’t care.” You explained while pulling the pillow that decorated your families couch from behind your back and into your lap.  You anxiously fiddled with the decorative fringe at its corners. “We both know he still cares y/n. I’ve seen the way he ogles you at school.”  Steve retorts at your dismissive comment.  

“I get it- I just don’t know what’s going on in his head. Does he regret it?  If I ask him, will I just embarrass myself in putting the idea out there?  Do I even want to get back with him after he couldn’t trust me?  Or, he might still think I cheated on him with Hargrove!”  A gagging noise emerged from your brother’s throat at the mention of his rival’s last name.  

“I told you that you shouldn’t have talked to him after school, of course the prick would try to make a move.  You’re too nice for your own good.”

“Not helping here Steve.”  “Right, sorry.”

“There’s just so many factors that I’m not sure he can even overlook to get back with me.  I wish we could talk about it, but it feels like I’d ruin the common ground we’ve found if I do.  I can’t lose him completely Stevie.”  

Your brother sighed and reached towards the coffee table to grab a fist full of popcorn.  He popped a few into his mouth, munched, and contemplated your situation. “Maybe you don’t need to talk about it. Maybe you can drop some hints or plant some seeds in his brain and see what he does.  Almost like, testing the waters.”

“Steve, that’s like kinda brilliant.  How did you come up with that?”

“Oh, you know me.  You are currently in the presence of Hawkins High’s local Cupid.”

“Oh yea?  And how’s Cupid’s own love life going?”

Steve threw a few pieces of popcorn at your face, getting tangled in your hair as you pulled the pillow up too little too late to block his attack.  “Off topic, back to you!”

The siblings bantered back and forth like a pair of gossiping hens for the rest of the night.  2 more batches of popcorn were made, the kitchen was made sticky from a shaken can of soda- resulting in a very irritated Mrs. Harrington and an assumed Mr. Harrington-, and another movie went played yet unwatched.  

You and Steve parted ways a little before midnight. As you settled into your bed, your head swam with thoughts of your Eddie.  The image of his toothy grin painted across the back of your eye lids and welcomed the darkness of sleep with you.

 _______________________________________________________________

You yearned for the smell of last night’s buttery popcorn.  Or any smell that wasn’t beer, vomit, or sweat.  You weren’t particular.  

You sank into the couch, red cup in hand, as you sullenly sipped from the spiked punch.  

Second party in a month.  Never thought my social life would come to this- forced interaction with drunk adult toddlers.

You spied your friend Dina- the culprit who insisted you come out tonight- stumbling her way towards the couch out of your peripheral vision.  You sprung up from your seat, abandoned your drink haphazardly on the lamp table to your right, and caught Dina in your arms before she collapsed onto the suspiciously stained couch.  “I think you’re ready to go home Dina.  Who drove you here?”

“May-May!” She shrieked out.  “Who?”

“May-May!” Dina sang into your ear- blowing out your eardrum in the process.

You held Dina as she swayed around in your embrace and tried to decipher her drunken rambling.

“Oh, Mabel!” “Mabel!” Dina agreed with the vigorous shake of her head.  

You scanned your surroundings and found a friend lounging in a chair on a few feet away from the couch- close enough to hear you call out over the music. “Andy!  Can you come watch Dina while I get her ride?”  Andy swung his head around, his fluffed up brown hair shaking around his head at the motion along with the tiny, silver, dangle earring that reacted the same.  His eyes scanned the scene in front of him and his eyes focused in with determination, “Of course, I won’t let her out of my sight.”  Andy arose from his chair and sat on the couch, leaving room from Dinas drunk form to collapse next to him.  

“Thanks man.”  He made an army saluting motion with his hand, then you turned and walked into the thick of the party to find Mabel.  

After 15 minutes, an awkward bedroom interruption of Mabel and her boyfriend Denis, and convincing Dina to stop petting Andy’s hair, the lot finally got Dina into Denis’ car.  

“Thanks for helping again, Andy, I owe you.”  You closed Dina’s door and patted his shoulder in appreciation.  You averted your attention from Andy’s from retreating into the house at the sound of Denis poking his head out of the driver’s side window.  “You gotta ride home y/n?” he questioned cautiously.  

You shoved your hands into the pockets of your jacket and angled the top half of your body to see Mabel in the passenger seat.  “I can find someone to drive me, you’ve got your hands full with Dina.” Mabel shook her head vigorously and insisted you join your drunk friend in the backseat.  “Plus, I don’t know where she lives,” she added, ”and I don’t think she is any position to give us directions.”

“I thought you drove her here?”

“Yea, but she came over to my house then Denis picked us up.”

A thought crossed your mind for a fraction of a second.  Dina lives in Forest Hills.  Eddie lives in Forest Hills.  Dina lives directly across from Eddies trailer. Your heart skipped what felt like multiple beats at the thought of possibly seeing him, but then you came back down to Earth and realized the probability of you interacting with him tonight was astronomically low.  

It’s Friday night, there is no way he is home.  

Yet your stomach still got butterflies at the thought of being in proximity to the trailer where everything ended.  A place you once frequented multiple times a week.  A place you felt safest in.  A place you have not been in at least a month. You swallowed your nerves and glanced at Denis, eyeing him for permission to accompany them on their journey to Dina’s house and inevitably adding a stop to drop you off.  

Denis smirked at you, thinking your lapse in response was an effect of the alcohol, “Just get in the damn car.”  You giggled and stuck your tongue out at him, making your way around the car to enter the backseat where Dina greeted you with a burp in your face that smelt of vodka and stomach acid.  

Definitely not buttery popcorn.

________________________________________________________________

Eddie lounged in the comfort of his room.  Another Friday night, another night alone.  It was a slightly warmer than usual December night, creating the perfect opportunity for Eddie to leave his bedroom window ajar; a beautiful breeze filling up his space and lungs.  Silently, he scribbled down notes and ideas for his next Hellfire campaign- ever since that unfortunate November evening, Eddie has found himself with excessive amounts of free time and no choice but to fill it or be left in a spiral of despair and self-loathing.

Without warning, a voice drifted into his room that had not entered since the aforementioned night.  It was so crystal-clear Eddie was concerned for his own sanity; either he had started hearing voices- your voice- in his head or you were somehow hiding in his closet. Neither of his theories yielded correct when, after discarding his busy work, he found your voice originated from outside his bedroom window, somewhere in the shadows of the trailer park he lived in.

There you stood, the streetlight you stood under creating a halo affect around your head and hair, infecting the air around you with your laugh.  To your left was a raven-haired girl he knew to be one of his neighbors, Dina Rodriguez, and a dear friend of yours.  She had her arm draped around your shoulder like she couldn’t stand without you- and after observing for a moment, Eddie realized she couldn’t.  Supporting Dina’s left arm was another member of your squad, Mabel Myers; her boyfriend Denis “something-or-other” trailed behind the group of girls like a bodyguard.

It appeared Dina was either drunk off her ass or high out of her mind- he is familiar with both situations intimately- and it was the duty of you three to see your friend home safe and sound.  She lulled her drooping head to the right and muttered another comment into your ear that sent your laughter exploding from your chest and flooding his ears again.  As you tossed your head back in hilarity your eyes caught his gazing at your from across the street through his window. Immediately turning red, Eddie turned around and rushed to his bed- desperate to dive back into his campaign and distract himself from the colossal embarrassment that was being caught by you.

He heard the door to Dina’s trailer open and close and the sound of your voice disappear behind the thin trailer walls.  After a while, he heard nothing but silence in Forest Hills and assumed you had fled the park with your friends after settling Dina in.  Eddie should know by now to always expect the unexpected when it comes to you, because a few moments after he figured you’d left there was a light tap noise at his window.  At first, he ignored it, choosing to remain focused on his campaign. Yet again, another light tap hit his window.  And a few more second after that, a tiny pebble landed on the open page of his journal he wrote in on his bed.  His eyebrows pinched and he picked up the stone to inspect it.  These shenanigans had your name written all over then, and his heart swelled.

Stone still trapped between his index finger and thumb, Eddie approached his window and opened it further to come face to face with your flaming cheeks.

“Were you throwing stones into my room?” He questioned with a smirk on his face, holding up the pebble and launching it back out his window and onto the gravel below.  

“I’m sorry I have terrible aim.  I meant to hit your window.” You rubbed the back of your neck embarrassedly.

He narrowed his eyes at you, “You stalking me or something?”

You blush at his reference to your last conversation, “You wish, weirdo.” You stuck your tongue out at him.

He cocked his head to the side and rested his hands on the sill of the window, “Coming from the girl who was throwing stones at my window.”

You planted your hands on your hips and raised your eyebrows at him.  “Coming from the guy who was watching me like a creeper from across the street.”

It was now Eddies turn to blush profusely.  “I was hoping you hadn’t seen me.” His eyes flitted to the ground where your white sneakers made contact with the gravel road of the trailer park.  

“I was hoping you wouldn’t see me either.  Didn’t wanna disturb your night.” You shuffled your right foot against the dirt and sent up a gust of particles that had you stepping back slightly as to avoid the cloud.  “Yet here you are, causing a ruckus that would have your mother clutching her pearls.” Eddie chuckled grasping at the guitar pick necklace that dangled across his collarbone, resting atop the black, fitted t-shirt he wore- mimicking a shocked lady.  Your cheeks once more flushed at the insinuation your presence was an intrusion while muttering another apology.  You ran your hand through your hair, a nervous tick Eddie noticed both Harrington siblings had developed over the years.  

Eddie caught his flunder. “Oh, no I didn’t- I wasn’t saying that- erm.. What’s up with Dina?” he tried to change the subject.  

You smiled sheepishly, “One too many hits.  A few too many shots.  And after emptying the contents of her stomach on the ride of the road a few miles back, everything seemed extremely funny to her.  Don’t go hiking around marker 15… it’s not pretty.”  

“Rock on party animal.  Are you okay?”  Eddie asked quizzically.  “Am I okay? Yea.  Am I sober? For the most part.” You giggled.

“You okay to get home? I can give you a ride.”

“It’s okay, Denis is our DD.”

“Ah, I see.  Wait, are they still here?”

“Yea, they are right over there.”  You jammed your thumb behind you at the red hatchback humming at the entrance of the of the trailer park, stalled in place and- apparently- waiting on you.  

“Then what are you doing Y/n?  Don’t hold them up.” Eddie gestured to the car. You zipped your windbreaker up farther and crossed your arms on your chest. You made brief eye contact with the boy in the window before flicking back away to the oh-so interesting weeds growing at the base of the trailer home.  “I’ll get out of your hair in a minute, I just- I guess I just wanted to say hi.”

Just planting some seeds. Testing the waters.  Wondering if yours still in love with me as deeply as I am with you.

Your eyes reached his again, checking for his reaction, only to meet his glassy eyes.

He muttered a soft hello as he leaned further out his window.

You muttered a soft hello back as you stepped towards the opening.  

Eyes locked; hearts pounded in sync.

Then, an ear-splitting car horn shattered the moment, alerting you two that you were not alone. You jumped out of your skin and Eddie almost hit his head on the top of the open pane.  You both laughed awkwardly at the intimate bubble that had burst around you and you shuffled backwards.  

“I better jam.  Later.”

He didn’t respond.  He held his eyes on you and waved his hand back and forth- a reluctant goodbye.  You jogged to the car and stopped when you were about halfway. Suddenly, in a flurry of movement, you raced back to the windowsill.  

Eddies jaw dropped as you approached him.  Eyes locked; hearts pounded in sync.

“My dress will be blue.”

Bewildered eyes peered at half-sober ones.

“Do with that what you will.”

Seed, planted.

Once again you jogged back to the car, but this time you entered the car and exited Forest Hills trailer park.  

________________________________________________________________

Eddie had a horrible habit of being late to almost everything.  Corroded Coffin had to be at the Hideout at 7:30?  He’s showing up at 8. School starts at 8:45? He’s showing up at 9. Hellfire is right after school? He’s showing up 20 minutes late.  

It’s just how he rolled. His overactive mind usually distracted him from his original intent- making arriving on time a seemingly impossible task for the frazzled metal head.  What he lacked in punctuality, he tried to make up for speediness in travel- an Eddie-ism that has nearly sent you into cardiac arrest on multiple occasions.

Eddie had never been on time for nearly anything in his life, much less early.  Yet here he sat in the back of his van, music low, back doors open, cigarette lit, and 10 minutes early to the mandatory set up for the dance.  

Eddie was early, for the first time in this life, because of you.  Because of your little comment, whispered to him through his windowsill in the dead of night.

My dress will be blue.

He swore he melted into a puddle of lovesick-Eddie-mush as soon as Denis’ car exited the trailer park. That was not the comment he expected you to leave him with that night, but he was nonetheless grateful for it.  He couldn’t leave his trailer early enough that night, it seemed.  He wanted to see you as soon as earthly possible, adorned in a blue gown.  Now, he was excited to sit in the stupid gym, listening to stupid pop music, surrounded by stupid middle schoolers. Because he would be rewarded with the sight of you in a beautiful blue dress.  

As he smoked through his cigarette, he let his mind wander.  He wondered what shade it would be, light or dark.  He wondered what length it would be, long or short.  If it would be tight, showing off your figure.  If it would show your shoulders or your cleavage. What you would be wearing underneath it.  He shook his head, trying to rid himself of thoughts that would only lead to sorrow when he saw you in your beautiful blue dress and wouldn’t be able to take you home with him after the dance.  How he wouldn’t see the blue of the dress drown underneath the leather of his jacket that you would wear if you got cold. How he wouldn’t be able to feel the fabric of the garment under his hands as he held your waist, guiding you down the hall of his trailer and into his room. How he would never see that beautiful blue dress crumpled up on his bedroom floor.  

Eddie felt like such a pervert, but he couldn’t help himself.  You were his kryptonite, his eternal temptation, and he would never be able to stop himself from wanting you- or loving you.  He stepped out of the back of the van and flicked the butt of the smoke stick on the ground, stomping it out under his heavy boot and ridding himself of fantasies of you.  He decided he would have to settle for just admiring you and your beautiful blue dress from afar tonight, shut the doors to his van, and started towards the entrance of the gym.  

*******

Half listening to Mrs.Woodhouse explaining the “do play” and “do not play” songs, Eddies eyes wandered the sparkling, silver gymnasium for you.  You had yet to arrive, which caused anxiety to swirl in his chest and make his blue tie feel more like a noose, slowly choking him.  After getting the run down about the music, Eddie meandered over to where an acquaintance of his, Jonathan Byers, set up his camera.  They chatted about the dance, school, life- until Nancy Wheeler appeared next to the pair of boys and tucked herself under the older Byers sibling’s arm.  

Eddie excused himself from the conversation, happily obliging to the new couple’s silent desire to bask in their honeymoon phase, alone.  

Eventually the dance commenced, and you still had not darkened the doorway of the gym.  A steady stream of middle schoolers entered, blood pumping, hearts racing, and hormones ranging- and Eddie occupied himself by spinning records of mindless pop songs.  

You stepped into the gym right out of Eddie’s fantasies.  There you stood, coat in hand, adorned in gold jewelry and the dress he had pondered about for the past few days.  

You were a breath of fresh air, filling his lungs and igniting the anxiety in his belly, as the music thumped in his ears in time with his racing heart.

Your dress was the perfect shade of dark, navy blue and came down to your knees.  It covered your shoulders with puffy sleeves that capped at your elbows, accompanied by a square neckline that highlighted your collarbones and the dainty gold necklace that sat upon them.  Your earring swished around and bounced off your cheeks and jawline as you swung your head around to the music at the same time as observing the room.  

Your eyes met Eddies for a split second before darting away.  His chest sank at the dismissal until your eyes immediately darted back to his, realizing you’d skipped over his face and commenced a double take.  

Your eyes digested the sight of him in a sky-blue tie, crookedly hanging from his white-collar shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, displaying his tattoos. A smile erupted on your face as you comprehended his appearance.  He was in a sky-blue tie.  A blue tie.  The beam of your smile was enough to send the butterflies in your stomach fluttering to Eddies.  You shyly brought your hand up and gave an enthusiastic wave to the boy, but turned to dash towards Nancy before he could return the gesture.  

A moment later a small boy with extremely poofy hair walked through the entrance and sought his friends out in the bustling crowd, as many had done before him that night.

You reached the punch bowl and rounded it to stand on Nancys left, giving her a quick side hug.  

“You look gorgeous y/n!”  

“Me? Look at you!  I feel like my eyes are about to pop out of my head- that dress looks amazing on you!” She blushed at your compliment and even deeper so when her eyes made contact with Jonathan’s from across the room. “And I don’t seem to be the only person who has noticed.” You tease her, the exchange not going unnoticed by you.

She rolled her eyes at you and shoved you playfully with her hip, not before you swiped two cups of punch and sauntered away.  As you left you heard a boy ask Nancy what was in the punch.  She chuckled to him and replied, “Pure fuel.” You giggled to yourself, the joke- too- not going unnoticed by you.  

A small smile settled on your face as you approached the music booth, clutching a cup in each hand, and walked up the platform to Eddie.  

The booth sat behind the speakers that filled the gym with music, making the space Eddie sat in unexpectedly quieter than the rest of the dance and nixing the need to shout to be heard.

“Total rager, isn’t it?”

Eddie looked up at your sly smirk, quickly soaking up your presence.  “Oh yeah totally.  This’ll be the talk of the playground for weeks.”

You giggled, “I told you all the cool kids would be at this shindig!”

Eddie rolled his eyes and slumped back into this chair; arms settled on the crease of his thighs.  “Oh yes, Hawkins Highs resident freak and 200 middle schoolers.  A shindig of epic proportions.”  

“Hey, don’t forget about the co-captain of the cheer team! Or am I just chopped liver?” you raised your eyebrow at him playfully.

In a daring mood, and propelled by the beat of the music, Eddie couldn’t help but flirt shamelessly, “Not in that dress, you aren’t.”

Your cheeks rushed red, and you looked down at the flats adorning your feet, willing yourself to gain composure.  You forced your eyes up again and settled into your hip, preparing your response.

“Well, I see you got my hint then.  About the color.”  You pointed to your own neck with your index finger, still wrapped around a punch filled cup.  “Although I don’t think you really matched it right.”

“Hey, you said blue! Not what kind! S’Not my fault you didn’t specify.” Eddie accused while reaching down to the crate of records next to him, ready to cue up the next set.  

“And here I was trying to be nice and bring you punch.  But, if you’re gonna be a jerk then I guess I’ll take myself and my beverages elsewhere-“

“Wait, wait, hold up. Don’t go.”  He pleaded.  You turned back around from where you had started away, eyes locking too intensely for such a public space.  Eddie pulled himself out of his momentary lapse in composure, “I’m very thirsty.”

You half smiled. “And?”

“And I’m sorry.”

“For?” you waved your arms around in a circle, feigning confusion, and tousling the liquid around in the cups.

Eddie narrowed his eyes at you and you mirrored his expression- serious about your teasing. “For being a jerk.”  

“Now that wasn’t so hard now was it!”  You stepped back towards him and extended your arm towards him, offering the cup in your hand.  As the cup exchanged between you two, fingers brushed slightly against each other. Eyes locked, then looked away- unable to process the intensity of each other’s stares.  A moment passes before you noticed that the music had stopped.  

“Eddie.” “Yea?” “The music.”

A moment.

“What?”

“Mr. Munson!”  Mrs. Woodhouse shrieked a few feet away from the booth.  Pulling you both from the locked gaze you held.  

“Oh shit- “Eddie choked out while frantically changing over the record.  You snicked under your breath, holding your cup to your lips to hide behind as you stifled your laughter.

“Think it’s funny getting me in trouble?” he glared at you out of the side of his eye as finally spun the track.  “Only a little.”  You held up your thumb and index finger in front of your face.  

Your eyes caught on the watch the adorned Eddies wrist, the time setting an alarm off in your mind. You placed your cups down on the table next to Eddies untouched punch and started off on your mission.  “Hey I gotta go.”

“But you just got here. Where are you going?”

“I just- I have something- someone… this thing I gotta do.” You stammer out to him through your anxious smile, concealing your urgency.  

Eddies heart visibly sank. The secrets, the stammering, the lack of explanation- all brought him back to that night.  That November night.  The worst night of his life.   While he was upset that the situation had not lessened any to allow you to tell him about it, he would not make you feel guilty for a second time about having to put it above both your feelings- he would not make the same mistake twice. He understood this was your obligation. And he let you go, just like that night.

“Oh okay.  Come back if you want.”

You smiled at him and nodded your head slightly, leaving him alone behind the booth and entering the sea of students trying to impress one another by step touching and bouncing up and down to the rhythm of the songs playing.  

Disappearing through the doors of the gym and into the night, you entered the freezing air for a moment to approach the police truck parked in the lot.  Inside awaited your ward for the night, El.  Hopper entrusted you with watching after her until he came back at the end of the night to retrieve her- wordlessly exchanging a thank you to you as Eleven climbed out of the truck and embraced you in a tight hug.

Arm slung around her, you guided her into the dance, took her coat and paid for her ticket.  You accompanied her through the door and gave her hand a squeeze.

El looked up at your gentle smile and returned it.  “What now?” she softly questioned, unsure how to conduct herself in such a new and public environment.  “Go have fun,” you whispered in her ear, “And enjoy yourself.  You deserve this.”  El blushed slightly, turning her face to scan the crowd.  A soft smile took over your lips as you watched her scamper towards Mike- their relationship reminding you of Eddie and yourself at the start of your relationship, last year.  You tucked her coat over your arm and made your way to the bleachers covered by reams of long silver streamers, stashing it away next to yours.  

Eddie watched as you reemerged from the stands with the poofy-haired boy in tow, as he wiped his eyes. You dragged him towards the dance floor and proceeded to dance with him, until he was chipper and bouncing around to the song with you.  Your beautiful blue dress reflected under the lights, and Eddie swore in the moment, you looked like an angel.  A real-life angel, sent down to Earth to brighten up the lives of everyone around you.

“Don’t look now, but that group of girls over there keeps looking at you.” You muttered to Dustin as you continued to dance.  His steps faltered as he comprehended what you said, and a radiant smile broke across his crooked teeth.  “Really?”

“Really.  Now don’t let anybody get you down.  Not tonight, not ever.  Got it?”

The younger boy nodded his head and twirled you around.  

“Don’t look now, but the guy at the music booth is totally checking you out.”  

You felt your heart sprout wings and flutter off, joining the butterflies in your stomach.  Your throat went dry as you questioned, “Really?”

Dustin smirked, “Really.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you and made a Chewbacca sounding noise with his tongue.  You cringed at the uncomfortable sound effect and after a beat curtsied to Dustin.  He bowed back to you and the two parted ways, leaving you free to make your way back to Eddie.

***

The dance ranged on in front of you and Eddie, like a battle unfolding, but did not burst the bubble you had created for yourselves.  After rejoining him, you fell back into a natural conversation filled with ebbing emotion beneath both of your surfaces, coded flirting, and semi-awkward sips of punch.

“Who was that girl you walked in?”

Your heart stopped and your hands grew clammy.  You had no idea how to explain the supernatural girl to Eddie and her cover story had completely fled your mind in that instance, the inquiry catching you completely off guard.    

“I… well she- um,” you stammered out in a hopeless search for the right words to string together. Eddie saw your distress, he understood. No matter how hard you tried, you could never conceal your emotions around Eddie, he had always and would always be able to read you like his favorite novel.  In a desperate attempt to rid you of your anxieties, he shifted the question.  “What’s her name?”

You took a deep, yet shaky breath in. “El.” You breathed out.  “She’s um… she’s not from around here.”  

“Then how do you know her?” You mind scrambled for an explanation. “Well, I… She… She’s Mike Wheelers girlfriend, so…” your mind and mouth wouldn’t let you elaborate past that.  Eddie nodded his head in understanding and dropped the topic.  He didn’t know what she had to do with everything, but he knew this El girl was involved with what you couldn’t talk about. And that was enough information to satisfy him.  

The rest of the night was filled with Eddie playing your song requests and laughter filling the space between you both.

***  

Eddie sat in his van and watched as you guided the skittish girl to a truck, with the poofy haired boy following closely behind.  After seeing her inside the vehicle, you and the middle schooler made your way past his van to enter your brother’s car a few spots down from his van.  

In a rash decision he could hardly process before performing it, he leaned his head out of his rolled down window and called your name.  Your head whipped around at the beckon, and you left the younger boy on the journey to your brother’s car in favor of approaching his.  

When you were close enough to hear, and far enough away from the boy to be overheard, Eddie spoke.

“Thanks for keeping me company tonight. I… I had a really nice time.”

You blushed intensely at the profession and returned the sentiment, “So did I. Like I said, I miss talking to you.” A lopsided smile spread across your face, and you turned to leaved, the fabric of your blue dress swishing around you.

“Y/n?”

You turned back around, with a hopeful look in your eye.

“You… You look beautiful tonight.”  

Eddie swore if your cheeks became any redder, you would turn into a tomato.  

Wordlessly, you skidded back to your brother’s car and opened the passenger door.  You looked back once, made searing eye contact with Eddie, then entered the car cabin and closed the door.

The seed was sewn, and it grew.  The water was tested, and it was warm.  

And for the first time in a long time, you both slept soundly.

[thatdoctorharvey]

Hi howdy ho neighborino! I’ve been reading some of your fics and I love them! I was wondering if you could write something where the farmer has married Harvey but Harvey gets jealous of the other bachelors that farmer has high friendship with angst. I saw the flowers fic and I thought it was super cool but it would be cute for things to work out in the end

Okay so for this one, I saw the perfect opportunity to do a little snippet of how my Harvey x Reader book is going to be. It’s not gonna be anything directly from the book but it will give you a pretty good idea as to how everything will be written.

Also, for the sake of Sam can’t pick out a name for his band, I’m going to use the name of my Uncle’s former band (I got his permission, don’t worry). This will be important.

I did kind of incorporate flowers into this as well. Gotta have the flowers prompt with a good ending too, right?

I also apologize. The pacing for this is a bit rushed and there isn’t much Harvey at the beginning but you’ll see why.

This was the last thing you expected. It had been years since you had been to the city. Yet here you were.

“You ready for this (y/n)?” Sam asked you, seeming to be pretty pumped up.

“Always!” You replied, brushing your hair out of your face.

You looked beside you at the equipment. It was just the mics and guitars, the rest being among the other band members. For once, you were nervous. The last time you performed in the city, you had made a fool of yourself. You silently hoped no one remembered as it was the reason you ended your musical career.

Abigail suddenly tapped your shoulder from the seat beside you, leaning into the isle and waiting for you. You quickly snapped out of your little trance and leaned to her, feeling like a teenager back in high school again.

“What’s up?” You asked.

“Are you and Harvey okay? I didn’t see him talk to you when we were loading up and he’s all the way in the back.” She asked you.

You took a quick glance back to the crowd of townsfolk on the bus. Sure enough, there he was, the very back of the bus, by himself. He looked to be bored as he stared out the window.

“I mean, he’s been very meh lately with talking to me, but I’ve also been practicing with you guys a lot for the past couple months to prepare for this.” You looked back at her. “He wasn’t happy when I said I offered to sit with the equipment to make sure it didn’t break on the way there.”

Abigail looked to Harvey and then quickly back to you. “Shit. He saw me looking.”

“So, (y/n), I was thinking, maybe we could perform one of your old songs?” Sam suddenly interrupted. 

You and Abigail both looked to him. It didn’t take long to realize that, not just Sam, but Abigail and Sebastian were looking at you now. They had been talking about this for a while and had been practicing when you weren’t around.

“Wh..which one?” You asked, a little nervous.

“We won’t tell you until the end. That’s when we want to perform it!” Sam smiled brightly.

Abigail grabbed your hand. “Pleeeeease! It’s a good one!”

You sat back in your seat and let out a breath. Harvey had only heard you sing a select few times, but to hear one of your old songs with how he’s been acting. It just wasn’t a good idea...But it was just a song, right?

“What the hell, let’s do it.” You suddenly said, looking at your guitar case beside you. “But just one!”

All three of them fist pumped and looked to Pam, who was giving them a dirty look. Luckily, they had arrived at the spot they would be performing so they had a valid excuse to leave.

“Alright you four! Get your stuff and get off the bus!” Pam grumpily said in a semi-joking manner.

“Don’t gotta tell me twice.” You mumbled to yourself and grabbed as much equipment as possible. Kent and Demetrius helped get everything off the bus and onto the stage. Everyone riding was going to have some fun in the city until the concert, aside from a select few who would stay and help set up. Harvey was not one of them.

“Alright, (y/n), once we get set up, do you mind doing your thing while we check equipment?” Sam asked.

“Sure! I know none of you will sing into the mics to test them so I might as well.” You jokingly replied, taking off your hoodie to show the upper half of your band outfit. It was a bit revealing but nothing super intense. It also hugged your body fairly well. “Let’s get this going so we can get this show on the road!”

All three of your bandmates cheered. This was big for all of you. Sure, you’d had a few decent sized crowds in bars before, but this was a whole new thing. You were about to perform on a stage! A real stage! There weren’t just going to be drunk men and weird girls! There were going to be hundreds of people! Even your husband was going to be there!

...Harvey…

“Hey! Come on, you gotta help me with the mics.” Sam suddenly said, snapping you out of your thoughts. The sky had darkened a bit but not too much. Just enough to notice that time had passed.

“O-oh! Sorry! I got distracted.” You said and walked to your mic. “Just let me know when you have them all on.”

Sam nodded and went to the little booth, turning all the mics on and muting all but yours. “Good to go! Abigail, Sebastian, you know the routine.”

The three of you nodded and began the process. You had done this many times back at home. You had performed some of your more family friendly music during the events through the year, and of course, this meant you had set up the mics before.

So there you were. The middle of Zuzu City. The crowd began to form as your singing began to test the mics. Even though it sounded weird since you had to move from mic to mic, it still sounded good. You didn’t know that your husband was listening though. And the song you were singing was hitting him like a ton of bricks. Memories...Was he nothing but a memory now?

Soon enough, the time came. The crowd stood in front of the stage, the townsfolk among them. You couldn’t seem to spot your husband though, but you knew he was out there. Perhaps the lights were making you unable to see him. They were already affecting your vision.

“Hello everyone!” Sam spoke. “We are from Pelican Town!” He seemed to be oddly confident, something that everyone in town knew wasn’t right, especially for a first big performance like this. “And we are the Block Party Massacre!”

And just like that, everything began. Everyone began to play their instruments and you sang. The crowd cheered and clapped after each song. Once you reached the final song, you nearly cried. Some of the people in the crowd began to sing along. It brought back memories and it truly touched your heart to know that  your fans still remembered your songs.

But, like everything else, the concert came to an end. You helped get everything cleaned and loaded up before looking around. At last second, you saw Harvey getting on the bus. Immediately you went to Abigail.

“Hey, you mind sitting with the equipment? I...I think I should sit with Harvey.” You asked her.

“Sure! Just, go easy on him. He looked pretty hurt, especially during the last song.” She replied.

You simply gave a nod and hurried over to the bus. You took a breath before getting on and looking at the seats. Harvey was still in the same place, the very back. You made your way back there, slowly sitting beside him. He jumped a bit, seeming to have been in his own world.

“O-oh. Hi.” He said when he realized who had sat beside him.

You offered a smile. “Hi my love. Did you have fun?”

Harvey just gave you a look. Not one of love nor hate. More like hurt. Out of instinct, you gently grabbed his hand, turning your body to face him.

“Harvey. Look at me.” You said softly. “What’s wrong? You’ve been like this since I started practicing with them.”

The doctor looked at you for a minute and then to your hands. He wanted to say so much but his anxiety ridden mind wouldn’t let him.

“Do you love me?” He suddenly asked after a few short moments.

You offered a soft smile and rested your head on his shoulder. Was that why he was making a big fuss?

“Of course I do! I wouldn’t have married you if I didn’t. What made you think I didn’t?”

“You...You just never talked to me and you always got home late and you were so close with Sam a-and Sebastian and Abigail an-”

“Harvey.” You placed a finger on his lips as you looked back up at him. “You are the only one I love. I tried making you breakfast and dinner but you always let it sit out. I tried to talk to you but you always ignored me. I thought you were pushing me away, so I started opening up my schedule to practices. That’s what I’ve been doing the past few months.”

The doctor didn’t know what to say.

“Answer me this; would I ever want to leave you, my comfy pillow and cuddle bug, for Sam?” You poked his belly for emphasis on the pillow part. “You are everything I wanted and more. Hell, I didn’t even know what I really wanted until I met you.”

“But...The song…”

“I wrote that a long time ago. Didn’t you hear? People were singing along. How would they know a song the band wrote if they had never heard it before?” You chuckled a little bit and hugged him.

“I…” Harvey slowly wrapped his arms around you. “I guess that is true.” His grip tightened slightly, but not enough to hurt you. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey. It’s fine. We can cuddle when we get home. That always cheers you up.” You said happily. “Just, please communicate with me next time. I don’t want you to be hurt like this. It hurts my heart.”

He kissed the top of your head, looking up when he heard the bus start up. “Yeah...I’m sorry. I’ll do better next time.”

And with that, you two headed home.

BONUS

The fire crackled as you rested on the couch. It was a rather peaceful night, the sky clear and the animals not too loud. Crickets could be heard if you listened closely, but you didn’t want to listen to them. You would rather listen to something else.

“(Y/n), are you certain you’re comfortable?” Harvey asked, a hand rested on your back. The other held a glass of wine that he’d been sipping on. “You don’t look to be.”

“Oh trust me Harvey, I am.” You assured your husband, nuzzling a bit against his belly as your arms slightly tightened their grip around his waist to indicate a hug. “I am always comfortable when I lay on my pillow.”

He blushed and took another sip of his wine before setting the glass on the side table. He was half laying on the couch, you on top of him. On the coffee table in front of you was a vase that contained a small bouquet of flowers. He had made it for you once you two had gotten home as an apology for his behavior. In return, you gave him some of your finest wine that you had planned on selling to make up for everything.

“I love you Harvey. Don’t ever forget it.” You half whispered, looking up at him.

The doctor couldn’t help but smile back, his face still red. “I love you too (y/n).”

“I will never forget it.”

[darlingmulti]

Tension (WooSan smut)

Description- Wooyoung and San are walking together and the tension becomes unbearable.

Pairing- ATEEZ Wooyoung x ATEEZ San

Word count- 825

Genre- Smut, one-shot, romance

Warnings- mxm, nipple play, slight use of force, public setting, teasing, making out, kissing, orgasm denial, palming

Note- This is actually a small part from a fairly large ATEEZ au I've been working on for about 6 or so months now. I may be posting it in the future or parts from it depending on my confidence in being able to finish it and if people would be interested in it.

Teaser-

Wooyoung gently caressed his cheek before catching his chin and pulling San into a soft kiss. Their lips fit perfectly together and San instinctively moved closer resting his hands on Wooyoung's hips while Wooyoung held him firmly by the waist with one hand and the other held his chin, not allowing him to escape.

San let out a soft gasp as Wooyoung bit his bottom lip and pulled away, his breathing had quickened just a bit, made breathless by San’s beauty. Just looking at him was making him crazy, he couldn’t take it. He suddenly forcefully shoved San back until he was against the brick wall, there was a soft little yelp but it was quickly stifled as Wooyoung began kissing him again furiously.

Wooyoung and San walked down a back alley together, hand in hand in the quiet and unassuming area. They always took back ways instead of walking on the main road. No one was around to see them or judge them, and they could be completely comfortable with each other here. Despite this San felt his anxiety seeming to rise as they walked, or perhaps it was something more like nagging anticipation. There was tension between the two, and there was a knot forming in his stomach as they walked.

“San? San~ … San!” Wooyoung shouted and stopped walking abruptly, turning the handsome boy around roughly to look into his eyes, snapping him right back into reality.

“Uh… sorry,” San said, scratching the back of his neck shyly and offering a cute and apologetic smile. He tried to pull away gently, but Wooyoung tightened his grip slightly, staring at him with a strange glint in his mischievous eyes.

“What?” San asked innocently, raising one eyebrow, the knot in his stomach was growing the more they faced each other. He had the urge to run away.

Wooyoung reached forward and gently brushed San’s hair to the side, “You’re so goddamn perfect.” He whispered, staring a little too intensely into his eyes.

San shivered slightly, and he felt goosebumps rising all along his arms, his nipples hardening and poking through his white sleeveless shirt.

Shit!

Wooyoung gently caressed his cheek before catching his chin and pulling San into a soft kiss. Their lips fit perfectly together and San instinctively moved closer resting his hands on Wooyoung's hips while Wooyoung held him firmly by the waist with one hand and the other held his chin, not allowing him to escape.

San let out a soft gasp as Wooyoung bit his bottom lip and pulled away, his breathing had quickened just a bit, made breathless by San’s beauty. Just looking at him was making him crazy, he couldn’t take it. He suddenly forcefully shoved San back until he was against the brick wall, there was a soft little yelp but it was quickly stifled as Wooyoung began kissing him again furiously. His hand reached up over San’s shirt and he began playing gently with his protruding nipples, making him moan quietly and uncontrollably into the kiss.

San was sensitive everywhere, he couldn’t help but make noise even if he was out here, at the risk of prying eyes.

“Wooyoungie, let’s calm down now,” San panted urgently, pulling away and looking at Wooyoung, a wild look in his chocolate colored eyes.

“Your mouth is saying one thing… but your body…” Wooyoung reached out and pressed his palm against the tent in San’s pants, where his already erect member was painfully obvious.

“Wooyoung~” San whined softly, anxiously, only succeeding in turning Wooyoung on more. Instead of stopping he began palming him cruelly through his pants while his other hand lifted San’s shirt, giving Wooyoung access right to his nipples which he began kissing and licking, driving San more insane.

His moans were growing louder now, more messy and uncontrollable, Wooyoung could tell when he was close, but that was the fun… he couldn’t let him finish. Not here! Not before dinner.

“Are you gonna cum?” He teased softly against San’s ear, nipping at his ear lobe and palming him a bit faster, just a bit harder.

San’s only reply was a desperate whine as his back arched slightly, baring his bright pink buds and pale skin to the clear morning air. Wooyoung stopped his hand from moving but kept it against San’s clothed member as he gently let his shirt fall and leaned forward to kiss him again, passionately. Their breathing was uneven and shaky, the two of them both overwhelmed with the feelings they had for each other, the desire that, at times, clouded each other’s mind.

“That’s enough for now… we can finish this later.” Wooyoung promised softly, moving his hand away from San’s sensitive area and pulling him tightly against his chest in a sweet hug. Sans only reply was a muffled groan of irritability as he closed his eyes and nuzzled his face against his boyfriends neck, breathing in his scent as he slowly calmed down, and his frustration and desire subsided.

“Are you angry?” Wooyoung teased, rubbing Sans back.

“No,” he pouted softly.

“I’ll reward you later,” Wooyoung promised, “Now let’s get food.” He said, pulling away and smiling sweetly.

“Reward me? You know I’m technically older than you.” San said, narrowing his eyes at Wooyoung.

“Exactly! So you can pay for lunch then!” Wooyoung said and laughed loudly at the incredulous look on San’s face. He grabbed his hand and began pulling him, “Come on, let’s go eat!!!” He said, his personality seeming to switch as he became bratty and childlike.

San rolled his eyes and took Wooyoung’s hand in his and the two continued down the alley, both bickering and laughing as they went, the desire within them sated momentarily.

[glenncoco4]

You Can Count On Me

A/N: Chapter 5

••••

She steps off the dirt path and onto the small dock. Her presence doesn’t even effect him, which is concerning. “I thought I’d find you here.”

He doesn’t have the energy to respond, his thoughts are swirling and the anxiety he’s been having about this situation is bubbling to the surface more and more each day, especially because of her. His cerulean blues stay focused on the ripples of the water surrounding his feet.

Kicking off her flip-flop, the brunette takes a seat next to him on the old dock, putting her bare feet in the cool pond water right along side his. She turns to look at him, wondering what’s going on inside his head and for a moment as the sun illuminates is silhouette, something inside her heart shifts. “Why’d you run off like that?” 

“I guess I just got a little bit overwhelmed by it all.”

“All of what?”

“The thought of going off to college and making something of myself.”

She huffs a laugh, shaking her head in disbelief.

Marty quickly whips his head around, affronted by his best friend’s reaction. “I’m glad you’re enjoying my misery.”

She scoots closer to him, encircling his forearm with her own arms. “No, Marty its not...I’m laughing because you obviously haven’t been paying attention to what I’ve been saying for the past 7 years.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Don’t you realize what you mean to your mom, to my parents...to me? Marty, you’ve already made something of yourself. You are the kindest, funniest and best person I know. You changed my life; you’ve changed so many people’s lives.”

“Really?”

A soft smile crosses her features at the childlike hope in his cerulean blues. “Hey, have I ever lied to you before?”

“No.”

“Exactly. And I never will.” She states matter of factly before leaning her head against his shoulder, soaking in the beautiful glow of the setting sun cascading across the water with the person who makes her feel so safe it’s kinda ridiculous. 

The tension in his body slowly ebbs away at his best friend’s words as the scent of lavender beautifully assaults his nose. Taking a deep calming breath, he leans his head against hers, knowing that whatever life throws at him, she’ll be there. He can count on that. “I know.”

••••

Stepping of the dirt trail and onto the old dock like she’s done so many times before, the brunette takes in the picture before her. There he is, clothes tattered, scars across his beautiful face, but he’s alive and that’s all that matters. 

He turns around already feeling her presence ease the tension away from his battered body. His sorrowful blue eyes meet those of sweetly intense brown and the shine that glistens in them. Shaking his head in defeat, he realizes how close he had come to never seeing her again. 

Kensi doesn’t give him a chance to say anything before she’s closing the distance between them, throwing her arms around him, she’s able to relax for the first time in four months. “You’re safe.”

His body clings to hers, hands grasping at her shirt feeling as though they can’t get close enough. That lavender scent that is so uniquely her fills his nostrils, immediately bringing him a sense of self. She’s here. He’s here. They’re here together and that’s all that matters. “Yeah, for now.”

“I thought you were dead.”

“Not yet. Maybe tomorrow.”

She pulls back, a cross between anger and hurt written across her features. “Don’t.”

“Sorry.” The blonde apologizes, regretting his words the moment they left his lips. 

Without thinking, her finger finds the red scrape on his cheek. “Are you okay?”

The feel of her skin against his brings back memories of that night a few months ago. He wants that again so bad. So bad he can almost taste it, but there’s something he has to take care of before he can even think about moving forward with her. “I’ll be better when I catch Lazik.”

“Woah. Woah. Woah. What do you mean when you catch Lazik?”

“I have to finish this, Kens.”

Seeing the determination set in his soulful blue eyes she knows there’s no stopping him, but she’ll be damned if he thinks she’s going to stand idly by. “No, we have to finish this.”

“I suppose I could use some backup.” He smirks, earning a playful nudge from his partner. 

••••

A resounding gasp fills the agents ears as the tech operator discovers who the third vehicle belongs to. “Car’s registered to Dale John Sully.”

Kensi tilts her head back against the head rest in exasperation when Eric confirms that her best friend’s undercover persona is indeed inside the warehouse, putting his life in even more danger than before. “Callen, that’s Marty’s alias.”

The team leader shakes is head wondering why he’s so surprised that the detective is indeed in another sticky situation. “Your boy just loves trouble, doesn’t he.”

She stares at the roof of the car for a minute, thinking about Callen’s words. “It’s funny, cuz when we were growing up, it was always the other way around.”

“Kens, I’m not so sure this is a good idea.” Marty looks around the backyard nervously as his best friend pulls out the power saw from her dad’s tool shed. 

“What are you talking about? It’s just a little tree house.”

“Yeah, but what’s your dad gonna say when he catches us with his power tools?”

The brunette begins to pull out the sawhorse before turning around to meet the 13 year old’s worried eyes.“He’s not gonna catch us and you’re not gonna tell him either.”

He feels a unfamiliar thud in his heart when the challenging spark in her mismatched orbs meet his.“Has anyone ever told you how cute you are when you’re homicidally angry?”

“In fact they have and he was never seen again.” 

Taking a deep breath, Kensi focuses on the here and now. Rescuing Marty’s ass, just so she can kill him herself for going in alone. “So what’s the plan?”

••••

The bald man turns to meet Dale’s eyes, a dark smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “You are surprised I have a wife?”

A shiver runs down his spine. “Everybody’s gotta have somebody, right?” The blonde answers as a sense of warmth and dread swarm through his body at the thought of his person, his somebody, his Kensi and how close they are to having at what he hopes will be forever. 

••••

Callen watches as the shaggy blonde, presses the muzzle of the gun forcefully against the dirty cops jaw. “Deeks, look, he’s not worth it.”

Marty ignores the team leader’s statement as his anger continues to take control of his body. “Ask me again. Ask it again!”

Kensi watches on as a side of her best friend that she’s never seen before takes over. Thinking of how he would deal with this situation if their roles reverse, she does the only thing that would certainly bring her out of her rage. “Marty. Marty, put it down.”

As soon as his name leaves her lips a calmness washes over him and it suddenly hits him that she was there to witness what just happened. He empty’s the camber of the gun handing it off to the guys before looking for the nearest way out. 

Seeing the frantic look of turmoil in her best friend’s eyes, Kensi places her hand against his chest, trying to bring him some sort of relief. 

He shakes his head, trying to school his features as much as he can and does the one thing that never seems to work when it comes to her, not that he would want it to. He walks away from her without a word. 

Finding a clear spot against the ally wall, Marty leans against the brick, sliding down until his ass his the hard concrete. He brings his knees up to his chest, burrowing his head into them as he finally lets his tears fall. The anger he’s been holding onto for so long, the pure shit that was this case and the most beautiful moment he’s ever experienced in his life all swimming around in his head. 

He’s not sure how long it is before the familiar sound of her footfalls hit his ears. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t acknowledge her presence.

“Hey, are you okay?” She chastises herself for asking such a stupid question. Of course he’s not okay. She’s seen him come out of some pretty deep covers, but this one seems to be affecting him more than any other. Kneeling down in front of him, her hands find his, trying to once again comfort him the way she always has. 

“I’d be better if everyone just left me alone.”

The bite in his voice tells her one thing, his walls are up and considering the emotional state he’s in right now, they won’t be coming down any time soon...even for her. She stands back up, shaking her head in frustration. “Understood.”

The sound of her footfalls getting further and further away finally draw him out of his “cage,” realizing that she’s not going to fight him right now even though she knows its what he needs. He can feel the strain in his throat as her silhouette gets smaller and smaller. “Kens...” He sighs in defeat as she quickly turns the corner. 

This day keeps getting shittier and shittier. 

••••

He brings his fist up to tap on the piece of wood once more, but just as he does it’s pulled open. A set of mesmerizingly mysterious eyes are suddenly staring back at him, leaving him at a loss for words. “I-“

“I thought you wanted to be alone.”

“I did, but...”

“But what?”

She’s upset, actually upset doesn’t seem to be the right word for what he sees staring back at him. Ever since they were kids he’s imagined this moment in so many different ways, this wasn’t really one of them. “I-I wanted to tell you that after that night we had...I never meant for it to happen.”

Kensi can feel her heart split into two at his words. The thought of this...them..of what they could be, it’s all suddenly gone. All the fight she thought was inside her has dissipated. She won’t let herself cry. She won’t. “O-oh, yeah, right. I-I understand.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, you were probably just in the heat of the moment and didn’t want to hurt my-“

Before she can finish her sentence, his lips are on hers, cutting her off. His hands come up, cradling her face, kissing her with such passion and reverence that it would put a Nicholas Sparks movie to shame. 

Their tongues duel as if its their last moments on earth and this is goodbye. It’s a few minutes later when they have to pull back, both panting as the rise and fall of their chests brush against each other. “What was that?” 

“It seems as though I’m not so good with the words, so I had to resort to other tactics.”

“Not that I didn’t enjoy those tactics, but you know you can tell me anything, Marty.”

“I know. I know. It’s just, laying it all there and saying the words out loud...to you, I-“

“Deeks, what is it?”

At the sound of his last name leaving her lips, he knows he better get to the point and stop being circuitous. It’s now or never. Chips on the table. All in. Taking one last calming breath, his hand finds itself back on her jaw, the feel of her skin against his sends a shock wave through his body. Conveying everything he possibly can in his eyes, he says what’s been sitting on the tip of his tongue and in some part of his head for 20 years now. “I’ve always wanted this one specific thing in life and I didn’t realize until recently what it was. I want you, Kens. I want you and me...I want us. You’re so much more than my best friend. You’re everything to me, Kensi and I’m so far past being in love with you.”

As his confession washes over her, everything stands still as her broken heart slowly mends itself together. This is so not what she was expecting tonight. “You-you love me?”

“I do.” His lips rise into a small smile. “I think the night we made love made me realize it even more.”

He watches as an unreadable look crosses her face as if she’s trying to size him up before turning around and walking further into her apartment. Seeing as though she doesn’t slam the door in his face, he follows her in, quickly shutting the door and becomes confused when he doesn’t see her sitting on the couch. 

The brunette follows his movements as he walks further into the living room before she makes her next move. Coming up behind him, she spins his body around and pushes him onto the couch. Straddling his lap, she presses her heat against his. His arms immediately wrapping around her waist loving the feel of her body against his as her movements quickly bringing his member to life. 

Slowly moving in, a soft blissful smile spreads to her face as her intense mismatched orbs dance with passion. “I’m in love with you, too.”

[beeshavethrees]

Thomas was not the most perceptive of men when it came to discerning the feelings of others. Of course there were those closest to him that he had come to know well enough over the years that all it took was the smallest pull of their lips and the tightness around their eyes for him to realize that something was horribly wrong. But for those who he had distanced himself from, knowing only in passing, it would take a figurative brick to the head for him to see that something was up.

And that exact brick hit him in the form of Alexander Hamilton running directly into him on the way out of the office, staring at him with wide eyes for several incredibly awkward seconds-

Before promptly bursting into tears.

If Thomas was not very perceptive towards emotions, he most certainly was not a licensed therapist, and as such was...a bit out of his realm of expertise in this exact situation. Add to that the fact that Thomas had been working late that night: it seemed like he and Alexander were the other two left in the office.

So, more confused than anything, he guided the smaller man outside with one hand across the other’s shoulders, sat him down on the bench by the entrance, and then took a seat beside him. At that hour, even the parking lot was nearly empty; they were alone. Awkwardly, Thomas dropped his arm away from the other man, folding his hands on his lap.

And they sat, Alexander clamping one hand across his mouth to stifle his hiccuping sobs, and Thomas fiddling with the hem of his shirt and wondering what, if anything he should say. It was only after some time that Alexander himself was the first to speak, albeit with whispered, stuttering words.

“I’m s- so sorry about this, you- you don’t need to stay.”

Thomas shifted where he sat, electing to stare intently at the armrest of the bench rather than at Alexander, focusing on the spots of rust that had slowly overtaken the metal over the years. “No, it’s...it’s fine.” Another pause, the silence punctuated by Alexander’s sniffling, and Thomas tried, “I didn’t mean to...set you off, or whatever. You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” was Alexander’s flat response; he stopped to rub at his eyes, and despite the relative darkness, Thomas could see that they seemed raw and ringed in red. “And it...it wasn’t your fault. I’ve just been having a rough...year? Decade? I don’t know. This has just been a real shit week and- and I guess- I-I really can’t explain my thought process, everything just- came together and-” His shoulders seemed to be quaking as he grabbed his arms and gasped, “I���m sorry. This is- horrifically unprofessional. But nothing feels real right now.”

Thomas chewed at his cheek for a few moments, mulling over his options, before settling on: “Well, so long as we’re being unprofessional...”

Alexander flinched when Thomas tugged one of his hands away from where it had been digging into his upper arm; Thomas squeezed Alexander’s hand tight.

He was not a very perceptive man, and whatever was going on now in Alexander’s life, despite all his time spent arguing and debating with the man, he hadn’t noticed a thing off, nor did he have any clue what had broken him like it did. But he could offer some support, if that was the only thing he had to give.

And Alexander took it, trembling, hair falling loose across his eyes.

They sat there for some time, the night’s cool air slowly sinking into Thomas’ skin, and eventually, Alexander whispered, “Thank you.”

Thomas dropped his hand, and after an awkward moment, clapped him on the back -- lightly, as it looked like the slightest wrong look would set him off again. “Come on. I’ll walk you to your car.”

Alexander nodded, lips tight; Thomas put out a hand, hauling Alexander to his feet a moment later.

They crossed the near-empty lot, Alexander pausing as he unlocked his car. Shifting awkwardly on his feet for a few moments, he eventually murmured, “Again...thank you. You don’t know how much this means to me...”

Thomas nodded, answering with a light, “Goodnight.” Almost feeling like that wasn’t nearly enough, he added, “I hope you get to feeling better soon, y’know. I get we aren’t friends or anything, but- maybe that’s a good thing? Someone who doesn’t really know you and doesn’t have any judgement to pass.” Recognizing that he was rambling, he swallowed back anything else, merely ending his statement with, “Just figured I’d put that out there as an option. If worse comes to worse.”

Alexander nodded, and Thomas waved to him before turning on his heels and walking off to his own vehicle.

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

Thanks for reading, y’all! Sorry this is short, unedited, and doesn’t have much going on -- I’ve been battling horrible depression/anxiety for some time now and no matter how much I try can’t get any words out on the page when I sit down to write. I’d like to say that there was a point to this, or even that it was cathartic to write, but I don’t even think that much is true. But it is the most I’ve been able to get out in months, so I’ll cling to it, and hopefully I can write again someday soon.

:)

[nayutai]

The Task At Hand

Pairing Mingyu x Female OC

Word Count 15.1k

Warnings mentions of infidelity, mentions of racism, foul language, anxiety, insecurities, therapy sessions, dumbasses in love, light choking, dry humping

Summary The first year of marriage is always the hardest. Unfortunately for Mingyu and Kamile, the first year as husband and wife may also be their last. 

Notes This absolute behemoth of a fic is my contribution to The Intimacy Anthology where I, along with many other fantastic writers, have explored intimacy in all of its many forms. This fic is incredibly close to my heart and I hope that you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please check out the other stories featured in the project here as well! 

Mingyu fumbles with his keys in the dark as he searches for the one that’ll get him into his house. The alcohol coursing through his system is making this very simple task a lot harder than it needs to be. He shouts victoriously when he finally manages to unlock the front door to stumble inside. He freezes when he hears someone clapping slowly off to his right.

“Two minutes and forty seven seconds. That didn’t take you as long as I thought it would but then again you have been good at finishing quickly these days.” Mingyu groans deep in his throat at the scathing words from the woman staring him down from the love seat in the living room. She lifts a glass of what he can only assume is white wine to her lips, draining it quickly. 

“I’m too drunk for your bullshit tonight, Kamile.” Mingyu grunts as he leans back against the door to steady himself while he toes his sneakers off. All he wants to do is crawl up the stairs to the guest room he’s been sleeping in so that he can go to sleep. He rolls his eyes when he hears Kamile clear her throat from across the room. If he knows anything about his wife, nothing good is about to come out of her mouth. 

“If you didn’t want to hear my bullshit then maybe you should’ve shown up for dinner with my parents tonight.” The venom in her voice makes Mingyu’s blood run cold. He’d totally forgotten about her mother’s birthday dinner tonight. Fuck. As much as he hates to hear her nagging him, even he has to admit that he deserves it this time. This dinner has been planned for months and he should’ve been there. 

He forces his eyes to focus when he looks back over at the brooding woman shooting daggers at him from across the room. It’s then he registers the fact that she’s still fully dressed despite the late hour. Kamile is a huge proponent of being comfortable within the walls of her own home and for her to sit in a dress and heels as she waits on his appearance does not bode well for him in the slightest. He’s surprised that she hasn’t launched her wine glass at his head.

“Whatever or whoever you were out doing,” Kamile rises slowly from the couch, impressively steady in her heels despite the bottle of wine she ran through waiting on her neglectful husband to come home. Silence stretches between them interrupted only by the damning clicks of her shoes against the hardwood flooring. Kamile stops to appraise the man she married when she reaches him, wondering where it all went wrong. 

“…I hope it was worth it.” She silences his groveling with a raised hand. She’s tired of the arguing. Tired of the excuses. Just tired in general. 

Most people would have some sort of emotional response to this but her exhaustion leaves nothing but an empty void in its wake. Mingyu may as well be yelling at a brick wall for all the response he gets from Kamile as she slowly climbs the stairs. The sound of the bedroom door clicking shut echoing around the house may as well have been a gunshot.

“One more thing for her to hold over my fucking head.” Mingyu grumbles as he slowly blazes his own trail up the stairs. He pauses before the closed door to the bedroom they once shared, hand gripping the doorknob in his hand as he contemplates going in to apologize. “What’s the use? Not like she’d listen to me now anyway.”

The bed in the guest room welcomes him like an old friend when he flops down on it, draining him of his energy. Thoughts of how he’ll fix things in the morning drift through his head. Sleep evens out his features, lulling him into a peaceful slumber despite the fact that he’s still fully clothed. The perfect cover for the plans being set in motion right down the hall. 

The sun rouses Mingyu from his sleep way before he’s ready. He could’ve sworn that the curtains were pulled closed when he went to bed but it’s hard to know what’s what when you’re three sheets to the wind at god only knows what time. Blindly, he reaches out for his phone where he’d left it on the nightstand but comes up with a piece of paper instead. It takes a minute for his eyes to focus enough to read the words on the page, but when they do he finds himself bolting for the ensuite bathroom. The offensive piece of stationary gently drifting to the ground as if it hasn’t just ruined his life.

He heaves and wretches until he has nothing left to give. His knees buckle several times as he tries to brush his teeth which is an incredibly difficult task to complete when one is sobbing with everything they have. This can’t be happening. He refuses to believe that this is his reality. Mingyu’s heart sinks even lower when he drags himself back to the bedroom and sees Kamile’s  wedding ring on the night stand next to his phone. He retrieves the letter from where it rests on the floor, reading it over until the tears he’d fought back make a reappearance.

Doing this feels incredibly impersonal but I feel like it’s probably better this way. I realized that the flame I thought would burn forever is barely a spark anymore. Tonight was an epiphany for me. I realize that I deserve better and I’ve decided that I will have it. I’ve always wished you joy and light and I will probably never stop doing that despite everything that’s happened but I can’t do it as your wife anymore. 

Take care,

Kamile Dexter

The usage of her maiden name feels like the final nail in his coffin. He calls. He texts. He emails. He even sends her a message on instagram. Every single attempt to reach her goes unanswered. Anyone could see that things hadn’t been the best between them for a while, but never in his most horrific nightmares did Mingyu think that Kamile would actually leave. 

Time is irrelevant to Mingyu in the days that follow Kamile’s departure. He wakes up when his alarm goes off and drifts through the day. His nights are spent calling Kamile despite the fact that she never answers which then leads to him drinking himself into an alcohol-induced sleep complete with all the blessed numbness that it provides until his alarm goes off once more. This is without a doubt the lowest point of his life and he doesn’t know how to fix it. Kamile grew up with Vernon so naturally Mingyu tries to enlist his help. Unfortunately, it seems that she has anticipated that move and stops answering Vernon’s calls and texts as well. 

With all of his other options seemingly exhausted, Mingyu calls the one person that could possibly help him, Sidra Dexter. A woman with many accolades to her name, Sidra considers being Kamile’s mother to be the most important among them. If anyone knows how to get through to his wife, it’s Sidra. Mingyu prays that she still has a soft spot for him as the phone rings in his ear. If this call goes unanswered, then he really will lose all hope in saving his marriage. 

“It’s about damn time you called me, Gyu Bear. My daughter left you a whole week ago tomorrow and you’re just now enlisting my services? Tell me why that is.” Never a woman to beat around the bush, Sidra gets right to the point with the accuracy of a heat-seeking missile. 

“I don’t know what to do, Mama Dee. She won’t talk to me.” Mingyu whines, on the verge of tears for the umpteenth time today.

“Of course she won’t. She’s stubborn just like her ornery ass father.” The aforementioned father pipes up in the background to defend himself but is quickly shut down. “Now back to you, Gyu Bear. You have messed up big time but I love you so I’m going to help you fix it but I have one question first.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Did you cheat on my daughter? And yes that ‘harmless flirting’ shit you men folk like to do counts as cheating in my book.”

“Of course not! Wait…does Kam think I cheated?” Mingyu is floored and honestly a little angered at the fact that after all these years together Kamile thinks he’s actually capable of infidelity. The alcohol-induced haze clears long enough for his brain to recall a comment she’d made the night she left about whoever he was doing being worth it. 

“She sure does,” Sidra starts up, “but luckily for you, my gut says that you’re telling the truth and it hasn’t steered me wrong in the last 56 years so I don’t see a reason not to trust it now. So here’s what we’re going to do.”

Mingyu listens intently as Sidra outlines her master plan. Not for the first time, he’s in awe of the way her brain functions. The tightness in his chest subsides a little bit with every word she says. For the first time in the six days since Kamile left, Mingyu feels like his life has meaning again. His marriage might not be over after all. 

Despite the fact that Kamile had no intention of answering any of Mingyu’s desperate pleas for attention, the sudden cessation of said pleas only serve to further increase her anguish. She’d originally thought she’d be able to finally find peace when he gave up, but that does not seem to be the case. A part of her didn’t want him to stop trying. Didn’t want him to stop fighting for her.

Did I make the right choice?

The question has haunted her every waking moment as she adjusts to her new normal. She’s been adrift for the last ten days trying to figure out her next plan of action. Should she stay in Korea? Should she go back to America? Should she throw a dart at a map and go wherever it lands? The possibilities are endless but Kamile finds herself unable to fully commit to either option which is how she’s ending up existing on takeout in a hotel for the past week and some change. God, why did she have to be so impulsive? She should’ve made sure that she had a game plan before she just up and left like that. 

Her phone rings on the small night stand, interrupting her self-loathing thoughts. Kamile groans when she sees that it’s her mother. Ever since she’d broken the news to her parents that she’d decided to leave Mingyu, her mom has been giving her grief. Kamile had always had a hunch that her mom loved Mingyu just as much if not more than she loved her, but their break up has made her think that her hunch had been closer to the truth than she’d previously thought.

“Hey, ma.” Kamile greets her mother apprehensively, bracing for the latest round of her mother’s reconciliation efforts. 

“Hello, my lovely daughter. I just landed in Seoul so if you don’t mind coming to get me from the airport that would be great.” Kamile chokes on the mouthful of noodles she’d been munching on. There’s no way in hell that her mother just said that she’s in Seoul. Sure enough, Kamile pulls her phone away from her ear to check her mother’s location and it says that she is in fact at the Incheon Airport. 

“Baby, what did I tell you about making sure you properly chew your food before swallowing. Did you forget what happened to your Uncle Tommy?” Kamile barely hears her mother’s recounting about the uncle who’d died from choking on a fish bone as she rushes around her hotel room gathering her things. She can’t believe her mom really flew halfway across the globe. Thankfully, her hotel isn’t far from the airport so Kamile is helping her mother put her bags in the back of her SUV in no time at all.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you or anything, but what are you doing here?” Kamile questions as she eases her car into the steady stream of traffic bound for the exit. 

“You just left your husband and you didn’t come home to me so I don’t know what made you think that I wasn’t coming out here. A friend of mine is letting me stay with her since I know how you are about your space.” 

Kamile is more than a little thankful for that. Her mother can be overbearing when she’s on a mission and the fact that she’ll still be able to maintain some personal space is comforting. She’s only too happy to let the gps in her guide her to this friend’s house. The closer they get to their destination though the more unsettled she becomes. She has no idea why her gut is telling her to be suspicious, but she’s definitely not about to ignore it. Kamile’s sense are on high alert when she turns into the driveway of a nondescript home in one of the more affluent suburbs of the city. 

“Mom, what’s this friend’s name?” Kamile eyes the structure in front of her as if it could possibly grow teeth and bite her. Something is not right here and if there’s one thing her mother taught her, it’s to trust her gut instinct and right now her gut is telling her to throw her car in reverse and get the hell out of dodge. The only thing keeping her from running for the hills is the fact her mother seems so at ease as she hops out of the car to grab her bags. 

“Her name is Bae Yeojin. She studied abroad at Villanova her junior year and we were roommates. She’s got a pretty successful business now.” Kamile hums in acknowledgement. She vaguely recalls her mom telling her about a girl named Yeojin from college, but that does nothing to assuage the uneasiness in her gut. 

Kamile waits at the bottom of the steps as her mother knocks on the front door. Her fingers are drumming on banister, eyes glancing back and forth from the ornate door and her car. She clutches her keys like a lifeline. At the slightest provocation, she’s ready to bolt. The two women squeal like school children and not the established professionals they are at the first sight of each other. Kamile wonders briefly how long it’s been since they last saw each other.

“Kamile Danielle Kim get your ass up here and say hi.” Not one to disobey a direct order, especially one accompanied by her full name, Kamile reluctantly climbs the short staircase.

“Jesus, Sid, you really spit this one right out. She’s practically your twin.” Yeojin exclaims. She pulls Kamile into a quick hug before ushering the both of them inside. 

One deep breath and Kamile instantly realizes why she felt so uneasy. There’s candles burning in the foyer, but they do nothing to mask the familiar scent she’s spent the last six years smelling. Mingyu is in this house somewhere. She spins around to fix the two women with what she hopes is a threatening glare. Unfortunately, neither one of them appears to be phased by it in the slightest.

“What the hell is going on here?” Kamile’s quickly starting to realize that not trusting her gut has landed her in a situation she most definitely has no interest being in. Her eyes quickly dart back and forth between the two scam artists in front of her.

“I told you she’d figure it out. Pay up.” Yeojin doesn’t take her eyes off Kamile as she holds her hand out to Sidra who is grumbling while she digs in her purse to hand over a few bills.

“Dammit, Kam, did I really raise you to be this observant? You’re costing me money.”

“Yes, now what in the fresh hell do y’all have going on?” The answer to her question comes in the form of timid footsteps sounding off behind her. Her spine stiffens. She doesn’t have to turn around to know who it is. She can sense him. “Fuck this. I’m leaving.”

“No, you’re not. Now turn your little narrow butt around and have a seat.” Sidra adopts the tone she’d frequently used when Kamile was growing up and even now as an adult Kamile knows that disobeying this direct order is not the right choice to make. 

It’s with a grimace, that she pivots on her heel to face her husband for the first time since she walked out on him. The satisfaction she feels when she sees just how awful he looks is cancelled out by the fact that she probably looks just as bad. It would be a lie to say that she hasn’t missed the comfort and solace his presence used to bring her. That she doesn’t want to let the outside world fade away as she hides away in his embrace. She wants that back. Craves it even, but enough is enough.

Curse words flow like running water through Kamile’s mind as her mother situates her on a love seat in the living room with Mingyu sat right next to her. His large frame dwarfs the slightly undersized piece of furniture. She can feel the body heat radiating off of him and it’s a battle of wills to keep from leaning into him. 

“First things first…” Sidra claps her hands as she and Yeojin take a seat on the sofa opposite the troubled couple, “I think now is a good time to mention that Ms. Yeojin here is actually a therapist who specializes in couples therapy.”

Of course she is.

Kamile rolls her eyes as the puzzle pieces start clicking into place. She could be buried under her blankets, binging on The Golden Girls right now, but no, her meddling ass mother has scammed her into marriage counseling instead. She should’ve ran when she had the chance.

“Based on what Sid has told me, the two of you are exactly one week shy of your first wedding anniversary and already on the verge of divorce. So, who would like to dump their emotional baggage on the floor first?” Yeojin glances between Kamile and Mingyu looking for a crack in their demeanor that she can exploit. Mingyu looks like he wants to hurl while Kamile’s face is a carefully constructed mask of indifference. She makes her choice easily.

“Mingyu, thank you for volunteering. Let’s hear it.” 

Put on the spot, Mingyu chances a glance sideways at Kamile before clearing his throat. Yeojin sits at the ready with her notebook and pen. She listens intently as Mingyu tells the fiasco as he sees it.

“I know I forget things sometimes. I try not to, but I’m an idol. I have a lot going on but that’s no different from when we first started dating so I don’t know why it’s suddenly such a big issue now.” Mingyu seems to find his voice as he speaks up on how he believes that he’s been wronged. The timid nervousness he’d felt before quickly getting pushed down so that his frustration can take over.

“When we first started dating, I wasn’t being abandoned in a house all day with nothing to do.” Kamile may have been grumbling under her breath but Mingyu hears her loud and clear. His head whips around so fas that the two mothers across from him silently worry about the neck pain that may cause him later. 

“You have nothing to do because you’ve turned down every opportunity that’s come your way.” Thoughts of the numerous job and consulting offers from Pledis and other entertainment companies like them that she turned down come flying to the forefront of his memory. Human resource agents have practically been beating down their door for the chance to work with Kamile, a creative visionary in her own right, but she’s rejected them one after another without a moment’s hesitation.

“You mean every opportunity that you have sent my way. Like why would I want to work at that entertainment company and be forced to watch that bitch Miyeon flirt with you every day like you’re not married?” Mingyu is forced to concede to her point with that one. Miyeon is one of the stylists at the company and, despite his repeated rejection, is too flirtatious for his liking as well. Unfortunately, she’s deeply entrenched in the corporate hierarchy and nothing short of murder would make the higher ups get rid of her even if all of the members have lodged complaints against her. 

“Is that the simple hoe you come home smelling like every time you’re ‘out with the boys’?” Kamile adds on as if she’s finally started connecting some dots in her overactive imagination. The fact that she has even entertained the thought of Mingyu not only cheating on her but cheating on her with Miyeon of all people makes his blood boil.  

“Why do you think I’m cheating on you? Why do you always just assume the worst about me? Do you think Vernon would ever let me even think about cheating on you? The man hates violence but he would beat my ass over you and we all know that.” The frown on Kamile’s face falters at the mention of her oldest friend. Mingyu is correct in saying that he would absolutely fight him, but there are still some thing that aren’t adding up. Yeojin attempts to halt the conversation so that they can delve deeper into what Mingyu just said but Kamile beats her to the punch. 

“You come home smelling like warm vanilla sugar every night when everybody knows that I am a Japanese cherry blossom supremacist. What am I supposed to think, Mingyu?” She can’t believe that he has the audacity to sit next to her and still lie. The palms of her hands itch with the urge to throw things but she’s done enough of that plus this isn’t exactly her house either.

“Seokmin always sprays us down with some random perfume because he says it keeps the women away and honestly, it actually works like a charm so I’m always first in line to get sprayed.” Kamile’s anger deflates almost immediately. To anyone that doesn’t know Lee Seokmin that would sound like a crock of shit, but it’s perfectly on brand for him.

“Well, how was I supposed to know that?”

“We’re fucking married, Kamile. You could’ve just asked. Better yet you could have come with me to these events like I’ve asked you to do a million times.” 

“You know I hate those things.”

“Everyone hates them, but I would hate them a lot less if I had you there with me. I just feel like I’ve been trying to make an effort but you’re not meeting me halfway.”

“I knew my Gyu Bear wasn’t a cheater!” Sidra, who hasn’t set a word since things had started to get heated, pipes up.

“God, Mom could you at least pretend that you love me more than him?” Kamile throws her hands up in frustration. Her mother’s obvious favoritism is really starting to get to her right now.

“Not until you start giving me less grief.”

“Now, now, Sid. Let’s not derail the progress we’re making here. Kamile, is there anything you’d like to bring to the table?” Yeojin pats her dear friend on the back of her hand to reign her back in. She’d hate to ruin the momentum they got going by having Kamile suddenly switch gears to argue with her mother.

Kamile is only too happy to tell her side of the story as she recounts the events of the night that she decided to leave Mingyu and how it was the tipping point for her. Yeojin listens intently, taking note of the fact that none of the issues that Kamile has with her husband are particularly heinous aside from the debunked cheating suspicions. Each transgression on it’s own wouldn’t be enough to end in divorce, but rather it’s the heaping pile of them that overwhelmed Kamile to the point that she felt she needed to get out.

The more she listens, the clearer it becomes to Yeojin that their marriage is suffering not because they don’t love one another but because they’ve forgotten how to talk to each other which has lead to an unfortunate disconnect. The biggest obstacle is definitely going to be Kamile’s determination to end things. She’s made up her mind and getting her to change her mind is not going to be easy.

“I think I’ve heard everything that I need to hear for today.” Yeojin sets her notepad down on her coffee table, relaxing in her chair a bit before she continues. “The first year in a marriage is usually the hardest, but that seems to have been exacerbated by the fact that the two of you have never lived together before now plus Kamile here has uprooted her entire life and moved to a new country.”

“Saving this marriage is going to take considerable effort on both sides in order to restore the balance you had before you said your vows. Here is what I recommend.”

Yeojin challenges the young couple to separate themselves from their daily lives for the next week and go somewhere remote. A place where it’s just the two of them without any outside influences. Of course, this won’t be just some run of the mill vacation. They’ll have “homework” of sorts that Yeojin will be checking to make sure they complete. Mingyu is all for it but Kamile is much more hesitant. All they’ve done is argue for the past few months and she’d rather not be stuck in a house arguing for two weeks straight. 

“I’ve spent the past year stuck in a house with no outside influences and look at where that’s gotten me. On the verge of a fucking divorce!” Mingyu looks like he has something to say, but Yeojin thankfully stops him before he can rile his wife up any more than she already is. 

“You’re not just going to be ‘stuck in a house’. Think of it like a game of Among Us. The two of you are crewmates and this wall that’s been built between you is the imposter.” Kamile looks at Yeojin as if she’s grown three extra heads. There’s no way she just related this counseling session to a freaking video game. 

“I will also stop bugging you about grandkids for six months if you go.” 

“You should’ve just started there. I’ll go.”

Yeojin claps her hands excitedly. She sounds way too happy to be shipping them off to self-guided marriage boot camp, but Kamile stays silent though that becomes increasingly difficult as her mother’s friends lists out the “tasks” she expects them to complete.

“So here’s the game plan, I want you two to be totally and completely honest with each other as much as possible for the entire time you’re gone. Often times in relationships, both parties will censor themselves as a way to keep the peace but that can be detrimental as it has been for you guys.” Mingyu and Kamile don’t realize it but they both frown simultaneously at the proposal of this honesty idea. Yeojin takes it as a positive sign that they are still in sync on some level. 

“If the thought of doing it all day is too daunting, then start with just one hour. This doesn’t mean that you have to sit and stare at each other for a whole hour and trade statements just act normally but speak honestly. Okay so far?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Mingyu casts a glance in Kamile’s direction, fingers twitching with the urge to reach out to her. He’s had to stop himself several times since she arrived and it’s not getting any easier.

While Kamile’s mind is running wild with all of the potential for disaster that an hour of honesty could result in, Yeojin powers on with the rest of her required tasks. On top of separating themselves from society and this so called honest hour, Yeojin has mandated that they share at least one meal together every day with one of them being dinner on their wedding anniversary. Just when Kamile thought that Yeojin couldn’t possibly pile more on, she brings up the “activity days”. Each of them will have to plan some sort of activity for the two of them to do together while they’re away. It could be as big or as small as they want, but it has to be meaningful. Mingyu draws Kamile’s attention when he pulls his phone out of his back pocket to start tapping away on the screen like a mad man.

“You guys have a lot of preparing to do in order to be ready to leave tomorrow so we’ll stop here for today. I’ll be checking in on you daily to assess your progress and offer any guidance you may need.” 

Kamile is out of her chair and halfway to the door before anyone can blink. The room suddenly feels too small as the gravity of what’s about to happen sinks in. She’d convinced herself that she no longer wanted to be married to Mingyu. She was so sure that her run as Mrs. Kim, albeit short as it was, had come to an end, but now she’s been confronted that her main reason for ending things was baseless. This is not how she thought things would go.

Day 1

The drive from the hotel to the home she’s shared with Mingyu for the past year goes way too quickly for Kamile’s liking. Mingyu had texted her about having to go gas up the rental car so he’s nowhere to be seen when Kamile arrives. She sits in the driveway for a few minutes thinking of the memories saturated into the home that looms before her. The memories she had hoped to create. A stray tear slips down her cheek and she swipes at it furiously. She swore that she was done shedding tears over this but they just keep on coming.

Her pity party is interrupted by an unfamiliar SUV pulling into the driveway behind her. Kamile looks in the mirror to see Mingyu getting out of the driver’s seat. She does her best to erase the evidence of her tears, but the look on his face when she opens her own door says that she wasn’t very successful. 

“Are you-”

“I’m fine.” Kamile cuts him off before he can even finish his question. She stalks to the back of her car to start transferring her bags from her car to the behemoth of an SUV behind her.

“I’ll get them.” Mingyu takes the bag she’d already grabbed from Kamile’s hands, motioning to the passenger’s seat. Kamile, no longer in the mood to speak, wordlessly follows his directive and climbs into the SUV.

It takes Mingyu no time at all to load Kamile’s bags into the back with his own. 

“Obviously this is a sign that we should just leave.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m not about to let a lost set of keys stand between me and keeping my marriage.”

“Why do you even care? Why are we even doing this?” Kamile screams. She’s been holding this in for far too long and she can’t take it anymore. 

“For better or for worse.” Mingyu’s face is a mask of carefully controlled fury and it’s giving Kamile pause. She’s never seen him like this before. “We promised each other for better or for worse and yet you’re ready to run for the hills at the first sign of trouble. I’ll admit that I’m not perfect and certainly played a role in why we’re here but I’m willing to put in the work to make it better because those vows meant something to me. I thought they meant something to you too.”

Kamile is incredibly taken aback at Mingyu’s fervent desire to stay married. She didn’t think that he cared that much anymore. Without any further protest, she joins him in the hunt for the elusive key to the front door. Fifteen minutes pass and they are no closer to gaining entry than they were when they first arrived. A rep with the rental company calls as they’re checking the bottom of the flower pots that line the front porch and tells them that the keys were mistakenly put in the mailbox. The same mailbox that sits at the end of the mile long driveway. Kamile makes to get back in the car to drive to the end of the driveway but Mingyu suggests walking it.

“It would be faster in the car.”

“You heard that therapist lady. We’re supposed to be spending time together. What better way to do it than by walking two miles?” Kamile walks back and forth as she considers her options. She can resist which will probably lead to yet another fight or she can just suck it up and walk to the mailbox. With a groan, she makes her decision.

“Fine, but if I get tired you’re carrying me.”

“Anything for you, my lady.” He bows deeply which almost makes Kamile crack a smile. She steels her resolve quickly though and reminds herself not to get caught up in his antics. He’s going to have to do a lot more than make her laugh in order to get out of the dog house.

The walk to the mailbox and back is quiet for the most part. Their footfalls join the hum of the wildlife in the woods that line the driveway on either side, but the jokes and playful jabs that used to fill the air between them is noticeably absent. Neither one is sure of what to say or do around the other anymore. Thankfully, the key is hanging on a hook inside the rather large mailbox.

Mingyu fully expected for Kamile to ask to be carried on the way back. She’s never been a huge fan of physical activity so it doesn’t come as a surprised to him when she starts whining halfway back to the cabin.

“I can’t do it just leave me here with my flower friends. I’ll become one with the forest.” Mingyu wordlessly moves to crouch down in front of her. He’s thankful that she can’t see his face to save himself the embarrassment of having to explain why he’s so excited to carry her for the last half mile to the end of the driveway.

Kamile doesn’t hesitate a single second to climb onto his back, clinging to him like a koala. It’s not lost on either one of them that this is the most physical contact they’ve had with each other in months. She’s wrapped around him tight enough that he doesn’t need to support her thighs, but he does it anyway. No way in hell is going to let this moment pass by without taking full advantage. 

They opt to spend the rest of the day just getting settled in. Yeojin had encouraged them to share a bedroom but Kamile is not down with that. Mingyu is disappointed when she wheels her suitcase into one of the guest bedrooms but he takes solace in the fact that she’s chosen the one right across the master where he’d dropped his things hoping she’d follow. He hopes that at some point in the next few days she’ll finally share a bed with him again. 

Dinner ends up being Thai takeout. Kamile has to admit that she’s impressed when Mingyu is able to rattle off her usual order with practiced ease. There once was a time when they’d get Thai food together all the time, but they’re so far removed from that time that she was sure he’d have forgotten by now. They eat without a single word exchanged before going their separate ways to bed.

Day 2

Mingyu wakes up before the sun despite the fact that he slept all of two hours the night before. His hands are on the verge of trembling from all of the nervous energy coursing through his body. Today is the official first day of marriage bootcamp and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. It’s barely seven so there’s no way that Kamile has even attempted to get out of bed yet. Like a thief in the night, Mingyu creeps down the hall to peek into the bedroom that she had claimed as her own. A small smile graces his face at the cute way she hugs one of the throw pillows to her chest. It falters a little when his brain reminds him that she used to hug him close to her like that and not a pillow, but he shoves that depressing thought away for now. He has work to do.

The smell of bacon rouses Kamile from sleep, luring her down the stairs. She grunts a greeting at the man currently tending to a pan of scrambled eggs as she reaches for the stack of bacon on the counter to his left. Mingyu is quick to swat her hand away before she can secure her bounty.

“The eggs are almost done. Be patient.” Kamile whines at being chastised, scowling at the back of Mingyu’s head with disdain.

In the midst of her grumbling, she finally takes notice of his attire or the lack thereof. Saliva pools in her mouth at the sight of his muscles flexing as he cooks the eggs. Her gaze moves lower to his trim waist and the pair of gray sweatpants hanging from said waist in a way that has no business being as attractive as it is. Her fingers twitch with the urge to slide her hands beneath the waistband of those sweatpants to get at that prize she knows is there but she keeps them to herself.

“Earth to Kamile.” Mingyu chants as he waves a spatula in front of her face. She blinks rapidly, doing her best to clear the thick fog of arousal from her mind. The uncomfortable sensation of her panties sticking to her skin is quickly forgotten when Mingyu holds up a plate peeled high with bacon, eggs, and blueberry pancakes.

“Thanks, Gyu.” Kamile murmurs as she takes the proffered plate and heads for the table. She falters half a step when she realizes that she’s let his nickname slip. She prays that he didn’t notice and if he did, she prays he doesn’t say anything about it.

“Gyu? Haven’t heard that one in a while.” Looks like that prayer went unanswered. The shit eating grin on Mingyu’s face makes her itch. 

“I’m hungry and thankful. Don’t push it.” 

They eat in silence. The only sounds are their forks as they make contact with their plates.  Mingyu is kicking himself in the ass for not saying anything but his brain is short circuiting. Thankfully, the buzzing from the intercom by the front door signaling that someone is at the front gate. It’s the special grocery delivery he’d requested for the first of their planned activity days. 

“What’s all this for?” Kamile asks curiously. She pokes through a few of the bags to see fresh strawberries and a variety of other fruits along with a very large bag of rice cakes.

“I was thinking we could have a picnic today for our first planned activity.” His heart races as he waits for Kamile’s reaction to his idea. She munches on a piece of bacon as she continues to pull things out of bags.

“I dig it.” Mingyu feels weak with relief at his idea being well-received. “Why so many rice cakes though?”

“You’ve been a tteokbeokki fiend since we met. Didn’t see the point in depriving you while we’re here if I could just make it for you.” Kamile groans at the thought. She’s more than capable of feeding her own addiction with the spicy rice cake dish, but she’s never been able to make it as good as Mingyu. Despite the fact that she just ate, she contemplating requesting that he make a batch of it right now.

Mingyu grabs a knife to start chopping up some of the fruit. Kamile takes a seat at the island across from him, propping her chin in her hand as she watches him work. She’s always loved watching him cook almost as much as eating the food he makes. She can’t even remember the last time that she was able to do this. It feels like a lifetime ago. Her eyes with sparkle with fascination watching him prepare the food for their picnic. 

“Open up.” Mingyu holds a strawberry up to her lips and Kamile opens her mouth without hesitation. The berry is perfectly ripe and so juicy that a stream of it runs down her chin. Mingyu reaches out to swipe it away, licking the liquid from his thumb. 

“Tasty.” Kamile squirms in her seat at the way his lips wrap around his thumb. Time for her to make an escape before she does something crazy like fuck her husband in someone else’s kitchen. 

Mingyu watches Kamile hastily retreat with barely concealed glee. He’d thought that she’d stopped being attracted to him, but that is incorrect if the results of the little experiment he’d decided to conduct are to be believed. He smiles to himself as he continues cutting up fruit. There might be hope for them yet.

After agonizing longer than he should have over the best spot to set up their little picnic, Mingyu finally picks a spot. He’s so focused on how best to arrange everything on the blanket that he doesn’t even notice Kamile creeping up behind him. He nearly jumps out of his own skin when she clears her throat much to Kamile’s amusement.

“Did I scare you?” It’s clear to her that she did, but making him admit it is too good for her to pass up. 

“No…maybe.” Kamile hums in response, kneeling across from him on the blanket. “That dress is really pretty on you.”

“Thank you.” She mumbles in response. It’s been so long since she’s heard any sort of praise or compliment from Mingyu that she doesn’t even know how to respond anymore. It almost feels brand new. 

Eager to rid herself of the awkwardness blooming in her chest, Kamile grabs a fork and shoves what she thinks is a potato straight in her mouth. In her haste, she fails to realize that the potato she thought she had is actually an onion. Mingyu doubles over with laughter at the pure disgust painted across Kamile’s face. She desperately wants to spit it out but she was raised to believe that spitting out perfectly good food is only a half step below a sin so she powers through. She chugs one of the glasses of fresh squeezed lemonade on the small tray to her right as Mingyu continues to cackle at her plight. 

“You set me up for failure.” Kamile has hated onions from the womb according to the stories her mother told about the smell of onions making her nauseous for her entire pregnancy. Mingyu must pay for this. 

“I purposely cut them big enough for you to easily pick them out. You weren’t supposed to eat them.” Mingyu defends himself breathily as he tries desperately to stop laughing. Kamile reaches out to punch him in the arm which only serves to make him laugh harder.

Silence falls over them again although, unlike breakfast this morning, they’re able to exchange some small talk here and there. The awkwardness that they’d started off with wanes and wanes until they’re left comfortably enjoying each other’s presence for the first time in a long time. 

Mingyu finds himself unable to take his eyes off of Kamile. He’d meant it when he’d said that the yellow sundress she’s wearing looked pretty on her. It compliments the rich mahogany of her skin as if it was made especially for her. The plethora of curls that he’s always loved are full of life as she bobs her head side to side, one of her many habits that Mingyu has always adored. His chest feels tight with the weight of his love for her. He can’t believe that he nearly let her slip away.

“You’re staring, Mingyu.” Kamile says between bites of the strawberry she’d grabbed. Mingyu opens his mouth to answer when a distant rumble beats him to the punch. 

“Oh shit.” 

The two of them hastily toss the near empty dishes back into the picnic basket. Dark clouds are steadily rolling in with the speed of a bullet train. Just when they think they might be able to make it back into the house, their luck runs out. The rain comes down in sheets, drenching them in seconds. Kamile is so thankful that the lack of pockets on her dress lead to her choosing to leave her phone inside.

Kamile is the worst mood when they finally reach the safety of the house. She just went through the stress and physical exhaustion of wash day two days ago and now she has to do it all over again five days ahead of schedule. 

“Did you not check the fucking weather before you decided to turn us into sitting ducks outside?” She seethes. Mingyu arches a brow in confusion at her sudden mood swing.

“Of course I did. It was supposed to be nothing but sunshine all week.”

“Well, clearly that was a lie but I’ve grown to accept that from you. Now I’ve got to go suffer through wash day ahead of schedule.” Mingyu winces at her words, but he’s nothing if not an opportunist so he chooses to ignore it in favor of jumping on the more important statement Kamile just made. 

“Can I help you with your hair?” He asks as he follows his grumpy wife up the staircase. She pauses outside her room to fix him with a glare.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why? I’ve always helped you with your hair.” In his mind, this isn’t a huge request. The Kamile he knew used to be only too happy to allow him to hand over her hair products for him to do her extensive wash day routine for her. He’d actually gotten so good at it that he’d even started doing her younger sisters’ hair whenever he was in the states to visit.

“I barely know who you are anymore and you expect me to let you touch my hair? Not a chance in hell.” Kamile’s voice climbs in volume until she’s practically yelling. 

The last thing Mingyu wants to do today is fight, but enough is enough. Their screams echo through the spacious house as they go back and forth over Kamile’s mistrust of Mingyu. He doesn’t get it and she thinks it’s incredibly shocking that he doesn’t. Kamile’s phone rings somewhere in the bedroom she has yet to enter, effectively interrupting their spat. She leaves Mingyu in the hallway in favor of answering it and groans out loud when she sees that it’s a FaceTime call from Yeojin. She’d forgotten all about the daily check-ins that the therapist had mentioned she’d be conducting. She goes back out to the hallway and drags Mingyu with her to the staircase so they can get this call over with without ruining the carpet in her room. 

“Hello, love birds! How’s everything going?” Yeojin chirps once the call connects. Her hopeful smile falters slightly when she sees the sour looks on her clients’ faces.

Mingyu is only too happy to give the attentive marriage counselor a full rundown of what was happening before she called. Kamile scowls at him the entire time. To hear him tell it, she’s the bad guy but anyone with common sense would’ve left her alone after she’d made it perfectly clear that she was not in the mood to have a conversation. She can’t wait for Yeojin to drag him therapeutically for not picking up on that. 

“Kamile, what do you think lead to you lashing out like that? The rain was not his fault.” The woman in question is thrown off when the outcome she was expecting doesn’t come to fruition.

“He should’ve checked the weather before deciding to have a picnic outside but that’s neither here nor there. I feel like I made it very clear that I didn’t want to talk to him and yet he kept pressing the issue.” Kamile can’t believe that she has to defend herself. Mingyu is so hasty with responding that it sounds like a keyboard smash is coming out of his mouth.

“I would like to make it known that I did not say one word to you when we came back inside until you started yelling at me.” He looks incredibly smug as he watches Kamile’s mouth open and close as she tries to think of a way to refute his statement. “I would also like to make it known that I have been obsessive about every detail of this picnic and I would have never had it outside if there was even a slight chance that it might rain. Maybe if you had a little more faith in me you could see that.”

“And that brings me to my next point.” Yeojin begins. “We’ve established that the infidelity was a myth, so why do you continue to hold on to that mistrust, Kamile? I want you to really think about it and be completely honest with both us and yourself. I’m not saying that whatever you’re feeling is wrong because you are entitled to feel that way but I think it would be good for the both of you if why you feel that way is better understood.”

The theme of the day continues to be silence as Kamile ponders the question put before her. She’s mature enough to admit that not trusting Mingyu while also admitting that she believes him when he says that he didn’t cheat is contradictory. The root of that contradiction is something she’s been trying to avoid ever since she got roped into that surprise therapy session. Mingyu’s alleged infidelity had been her out. Her escape. She had cut and run on the back of a false truth and that reality is something that’s been hard for her to process. Tears well up in Kamile's eyes as she thinks back to Mingyu’s rant about their wedding vows when they’d first arrived. She’d thought that everything was his fault and being forced to face the truth is difficult. Mingyu’s harsh glare softens as he reaches out to wipe the tears from her face as they start to fall. He sighs when she pulls away from him.

“I can see that I’ve found a sore spot so I won’t press this any further today. We’ll revisit this in the future.” Yeojin gives them some tips on how to better communicate before she ends the call.

Kamile is only too happy to end the call so she can lock herself in her room. She doesn’t even come back out for dinner despite Mingyu all but begging outside of her door. He’s not sure what mental dots she connected when they were talking to Yeojin, but whatever it was seems to have upset her more than he’d originally thought.

A weather alert comes through on Mingyu’s phone as he watches TV downstairs. Apparently the storm that had snuck up on them earlier is part of a much larger system of severe weather that changed course and is expected to hang around the area for the next day or two. His first thought is Kamile. She’s terrified of thunderstorms. Always has been. 

He thinks back to a time before they started dating when Kamile was just Vernon’s pretty American friend that he had a huge crush on. She had come to Korea to visit and insisted on sleeping on the couch despite the fact that everyone tried to give up their room for her. Much like today, a nasty storm rolled in and in her panicked state she had accidentally ended up in his room instead of Vernon’s. The realization had been comical and she’d tried to leave to go to the right room, but a sudden clap of thunder that seemed to shake the whole building sent her diving into his arms where she stayed for the rest of the night. She slept through a thunderstorm for the first time in her life that night. A selfish part of him hopes that this storm brings him the same luck he had all those years ago.

Day 3

Heavy rain beats against the window like a prize fighter while thunder rattles Kamile’s brain until she feels like screaming. There aren’t many things that strike true fear in her heart, but thunderstorms are definitely somewhere in the top five things on that list. She’s got her headphones in and her music blasting, but it does very little to drown out the war going on outside. She rips the blankets from her body and makes for the bedroom door to go get in bed with Mingyu but like the fifty other times she’s attempted to do that she stops herself in the hallway. The door shuts with a soft click as she seals herself back in her own personal hell. 

Kamile jolts awake not even aware of when she had even managed to fall asleep. Sweat has glued her clothes to her skin and it’s making her skin crawl the longer she lays there. She groans aloud when she hears the rain still beating against the window pane. The alarm clock on the nightstand says that it’s just barely six in the morning which means it’s been exactly one hour since she apparently passed out from exhaustion. A rumble off in the distance lets her know that she probably won’t be getting more sleep any time soon so she drags herself to the bathroom for a shower. 

Freshly showered and in desperate need of caffeine, Kamile makes for the kitchen. Mingyu’s bare back comes into view for the second consecutive morning when she rounds the corner. His hair is sticking up in odd directions and he looks to be five seconds from falling asleep standing up as he stabs at the buttons on the coffee maker.

“Why are you up so early?”

“You need coffee.” He replies with a yawn.

“Yeah, but I can make it myself. You didn’t need to lose sleep to make me coffee.” She protests. Mingyu turns to glare at her until Kamile raises her hands in surrender.

“If you’re up, I’m up.” Kamile shakes her head at him as she pulls two mugs out of the cabinet. No sense in arguing with him when he’s clearly made up his mind about suffering.

The two of them sit in silence side by side, sipping their coffee, and staring out the window watching Mother Nature do her thing. Out of habit, Kamile leans over to rest her head on MIngyu’s shoulder. She stiffens when she realizes what she’s doing. Mingyu holds his breath. Scared that if he makes any sudden movements the bubble will burst and she’ll move away from him. She surprises the both of them when she lets the tension drain from her shoulders instead, relaxing into him.

“I’m sorry.” Kamile whispers into the void. If Mingyu wasn’t so acutely focused on her every move, he probably wouldn’t have even heard it over the wind. 

“Me too.” He turns his head to softly kiss the top of her head, taking a moment to inhale the familiar scent of her hair products. He never knew it was possible to miss a singular smell so much.

They’ve exchanged exactly four words since they sat down at the table, but they mean so much. There’s a near palpable shift in the air. Like a switch has flipped. An unspoken truce between them that they are in this together. Kamile lifts her head to finish her coffee and Mingyu immediately misses the weight of her head on his shoulder.

“Did you ever finish watching The Originals?” Kamile asks before downing the last of her coffee.

“No, it was kind of our thing so I haven’t watched it since we stopped watching it together.” She hums in response.

“Well, it looks like we’re going to be stuck in this house all day so we may as well pick up where we left off.” Mingyu nearly chokes on his coffee. He can’t even remember the last time Kamile willingly suggested that they spend time together. He pinches himself to make sure he’s not dreaming which she rolls her eyes at. 

“Come on. You’re in charge of snacks.”

For the next eight hours, their butts are glued to the couch. They only get up to use the bathroom and replenish their snack pile. They’ve spent so much of their time arguing that Kamile had forgotten how much she loved just being with Mingyu. Klaus is about to rain down hellfire on some of his enemies when Mingyu’s phone vibrates in the pocket of his sweatpants. Kamile can feel it against her own thigh and it’s only then that she realizes the way that they’ve gravitated towards each other over the course of the day. If she were to get any closer to him, she’d be sitting in his lap. Mingyu had intended to ignore the call, thinking it might be someone from the company despite his strict instructions not to contact him, but he answers it instead when he sees that it’s Yeojin. 

“Well don’t you two look cozy. I was planning to pick up where we left off yesterday, but I’d rather talk about this first.” Yeojin looks entirely too smug as she brings attention to the lack of space between the two of them. Mingyu half expects Kamile to scoot away from him now that it’s been pointed out just how close they are, but she stays put. 

“Can’t a girl just sit next to her husband without being questioned to death?” Kamile asks playfully. Yeojin chuckles and moves on with their daily check in. 

“Fine, fine I’ll leave it alone. Let’s get down to business. Mingyu we didn’t get to hear from you a lot yesterday so I’d like to get into how you felt when Kamile left. What was that like for you?” Yeojin rests her chin on her hand as she waits to see what’s going to come out of the box of emotions she just opened. 

Mingyu briefly realizes that this is the first time he’s talked about that day to anyone as he recounts that dark morning like the nightmare it was. Kamile listens in stunned silence while he tells his story. After seeing the bags under his eyes at Yeojin’s house, she’d figured that he’d suffered just like she had, but she’d never imagined that waking up to find her rings and the note she’d left had affected him to the extent that it did. The guilt that’s been festering in her gut increases tenfold at the thought of him heaving into the toilet.

“I knew things weren’t the greatest but I truly did believe that we were strong enough to get through whatever. Divorce never crossed my mind even once so it killed me to know that it had not only crossed her mind but became a viable option that she ran with. I get why she thought that was the best option now, but then it felt like I’d been blindsided.” Mingyu explains. His words are laced with the hurt that he’s been keeping to himself. Kamile picks at the words screen printed down one of the legs of her sweatpants wishing that a hold would open beneath her and swallow her up. She’s never felt so low.

“Kamile, I see you’re getting emotional. What are you feeling right now?” Yeojin gently pries. Mingyu pulls Kamile into him as his own emotions start getting the better of him. Yeojin is pleased to note that, unlike yesterday, Kamile doesn’t snatch away from him. 

“I was so focused on how unhappy I was that I didn’t consider anything else. It was all about me, me, me.” Kamile stares off into space as she opens up. She’s never talked about this with anyone but her best friends. In hindsight, they might not be sitting where they are right if she’d just talked to Mingyu about it ages ago but then again hindsight is always 20/20. “I visited Korea plenty of times when we were dating, but living here as the black wife of an idol has been so hard. Being from America, I’m used to people treating me different because of my skin color but when people feel entitled to be so invasive about it because of who I’m married to…it’s different.”

Mingyu’s jaw is on the floor as he listens to the struggles that his wife was having right under his nose and he never knew. He noticed that she’d become more withdrawn and hostile but he could never figure out why and she wouldn’t tell him when he asked. It comes as no surprise to him now that she stopped going outside. He can’t exactly blame her. Seventeen is going on their eighth year so Mingyu is a seasoned veteran at ignoring the things people say on the internet. Unfortunately, Kamile didn’t have that luxury. His stomach turns at the tales of her being approached on the street by people who wrongly called themselves fans thinking they were protecting him. The racist comments made about her online. She was suffering and he just let it go on thinking that she was just being moody.

“Do you think that caused you to develop a little resentment for Mingyu and his idol status?” 

Kamile’s first instinct is to say no, but given that they are supposed to be as honest possible she tamps down the lie before it can slip out. She did resent that she’d fallen for someone with such great public notoriety sometimes. It was different when she was just one of Vernon’s childhood friends. The general public didn’t really care what she did from day to day, but now one wrong move turns her into a trending topic and she doesn’t know how to handle it. There are days that she wishes that Mingyu was just a normal person, but then they would have never met and that’s not a reality she truly wants to live in despite her feelings towards him when she walked out. 

“Maybe a little bit but I know we’d have never met if he wasn’t Mingyu from Seventeen so it’s pointless really.” 

They talk with Yeojin a little while longer before she has to go to her next appointment. The air between them is heavy with the weight of the secrets that have come to light. It’s a stifling atmosphere and it’s beginning to drive Kamile insane. She reaches for the remote to restart their show, but Mingyu takes it from her.

“Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?” His eyes are misty as he struggles to hold himself back from crying once more. He could kick himself for not doing his best to shield her from the people that had killed her spirit.

“You’re already so busy and the last thing I wanted to do was add to everything else on your plate.” Mingyu wants to scream. She means more to him than being an idol. She always has. He cups her face in his hands, pressing his forehead to hers. 

“Promise me that you won’t hold stuff inside like that anymore and I promise to be better at not letting you. Deal?”

“Deal.” Kamile’s eyes flutter closed as Mingyu pulls away to press his lips to her forehead. 

He clears his throat before grabbing the remote to resume their show. For the next few hours, conversation is limited to the messy lives of the supernatural beings on the screen before them. The wind still howls. The rain is unceasing. Yet in the little bubble of Netflix and snacks that they’ve created, it may as well not even exist. 

Until bedtime that is.

“You know,” Mingyu says as they file up the stairs. The seemingly ever present bad weather still continues, “…you don’t have to sleep alone. I know you don’t like storms.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” It would be so easy to take him up on his offer. She could finally get some sleep, but for whatever reason she can’t bring herself to do it.

“Well you know where I am if you change your mind. Good night, Kamile.”

“Good night, Mingyu.”

Kamile stares at the ceiling in despair. She didn’t think it was possible for the storm to get worse but apparently Mother Nature took that as a challenge. She’s starting to genuinely concerned about whether or not the window by her bed can withstand the force of the weather it’s being forced to deal with. Kamile contemplates running to Mingyu’s room but shuts that idea down for the millionth time. Things feel...different between them after today’s call with Yeojin but she’s not sure if they’ve been different enough to justify hopping into bed with him quite yet. 

“This is fine. I don’t need to sleep.” She whispers into the void. 

She’s accepted her fate and made peace with it. Or at least that’s what she thought she’d done. A crack of lighting illuminates the room despite the blackout curtains over the window followed by a thunderous boom so loud it seems to vibrate her very being. Kamile is across the hall before she even has the time to process what she’s doing. Mingyu is out cold when she bursts into the room. Her brain chooses that moment to catch up to what she’s doing and flips on the switch of self-consciousness. Another loud boom has her throwing caution to the wind once more, sliding beneath the blanket to get as close to him as possible without waking him up. 

Kamile lays next to him a trembling anxious mess as the storm rages on. She’s so consumed by her own fear that she doesn’t even notice the man next to her has roused from sleep until he’s wrapped both of his arms around her to pull her into his warm chest. It’s as if the environmental warfare outside ceases to exist the second Kamile’s cheek makes contact with Mingyu’s skin. His presence drowns everything out just like it did all those years ago. The sleep that had been evading her comes quickly in his embrace. 

Day 4

A ray of sunlight shines perfectly through a crack in the curtain to hit Kamile square in the face. She squirms around trying to escape it and gets a frustrated groan in response. It’s then that she registers the weight of the arm that rests loosely across her midsection. The memory of running to Mingyu’s bed in the middle of the night comes rushing back to her. Her first instinct is to bolt, but she’s so touch starved that she finds herself turning in his hold in a bid to get closer. 

“Good morning.” Mingyu grunts something in response that she’s sure he thought sounded like good morning.

He slots one of his legs between hers and unintentionally allows her to feel the morning wood barely contained by his boxer briefs. Mingyu’s even breathing indicates that he’s fallen back asleep. Kamile would love to do the same but all of her attention is laser focused on the hardened appendage intimately pressed against her upper thigh. A damp spot has already started forming in her panties. She needs to get out of this bed now. Kamile squirms and wiggles around trying to get away, but it would seem that her efforts are having the opposite effect. A throaty groan slips from Mingyu’s lips.

“Stop moving.” He mumbles still half asleep. Kamile does her best to stop fidgeting and focus her attention elsewhere, but it’s not working. Her inner muscles clench around nothing as thoughts of what Mingyu could do to her dance dangerously through her mind. 

“I have to pee.” Mingyu cracks one eye open. It doesn’t take a genius to tell that he doesn’t believe her for a second but he releases her anyway. He sighs as he watches her run off to the en suite bathroom. 

Mingyu is noticeably absent when Kamile emerges from the bathroom fresh off a rushed orgasm though hardly sated. She follows the scent of coffee downstairs to find Mingyu bent over digging through one of the crisper drawers in the refrigerator. Back before everything went to shit she would’ve slapped his ass with glee and run away before he could exact his revenge. Good times.

“Did you hear what I said?” Kamile was so focused on his ass that she hadn’t even registered the fact that Mingyu had said anything.

“Huh?”

“I said do you want to get in the hot tub later since we can go outside now?” He repeats as he hands over a cup of coffee already milky and sweet the way she likes it.

“It’s almost 80 degrees outside and you want to get in a hot tub?” She questions slowly to which Mingyu responds with an emphatic yes. “Be honest. Are you just trying to see me in a bikini?”

“Absolutely.” He giggles when Kamile reaches out to smack him on the arm. “Why are you attacking me? Yeojin said we have to be honest at all times.” 

“I don’t think that included being a horny little shit.”

“I’m a man with eyes and a hot wife. I can’t help.” Despite the compliment, Kamile’s mood sours at his words. Mingyu’s freshly honed observation skills picks up on it immediately.

“Uh oh, did I say something wrong?”

“If I’m so hot, then why haven’t we had sex in four months? We used to go at it like rabbits and then one day you just stopped initiating things.” 

Mingyu is quick to point out that he did try to have sex with her plenty of times, but she pushed him away. Eventually, he gave up. It’s almost funny when the dots start connecting in her head. Her personal struggles had originally been why she denied him sex, but then he’d started coming home doused in perfume so she really didn’t want anything to do with him then. Mingyu has never been a very pushy person so he figured he’d just wait her out. He didn’t think that he’d end up in a four month dry spell (and counting), but he was also not about to look for satisfaction outside of his marriage either. 

“How about we save this sex talk until after I’m finished cooking? All of the blood in my body is rushing south and these rice cakes are starting to look like nipples.” Kamile nearly chokes on the water she’d just taken a sip of. Tears pour from her eyes as her body can’t decide if it wants to laugh or die of asphyxiation. 

“Woah, woah! When we said till death do us part I was hoping we’d be farting dust not barely 26.” Kamile is sure that he wants her dead now as her internal war between laughing and choking only gets worse. 

Despite her earlier protests, Kamile finds herself seated across from Mingyu in the hot tub later that evening as they watch the sun set. She fully expects him to try something from the way his eyes keep drifting south to stare at her chest, but he’s on his best behavior the entire time. 

Day 5

“Hello, love birds! I missed you two yesterday. What happened?” Yeojin looks hesitant almost as if she’s scared of their answer. She looks downright relieved to hear that they missed her call because they fell asleep cuddling on the couch. After getting a run down of everything that’s happened since they last spoke, she encourages them to continue sleeping in the same bed together. 

“Couples often downplay the amount of good that just being physically close to your partner can be. If you’re both comfortable sleeping next to each other without a thunderstorm being the driving force, please keep doing it.” Yeojin pleads before ending the call to go to her next appointment. 

Her words hang in the air even after she’s gone. Mingyu looks over at Kamile with a questioning look on his face. It’s clear that he’s after her opinion on this whole shared bed situation, but Kamile doesn’t have much to say on the matter. The two of them have been pretty much inseparable during the day now, but she’s still nervous about sleeping in the same bed together and she doesn’t know how to shake that feeling. She was too scared to think about it last night but without the weather to distract her she’s not so sure if sit’s a good idea.

“What’s going on in there?” Mingyu taps a finger against Kamile’s temple to get her attention. She shakes her head but he’s got a feeling it’s about what Yeojin’s bed sharing idea.

“If this is about sharing a bed, don’t worry about. You’ve got the rest of the day to decide.” She nods in acknowledgement of his point but Mingyu can tell that the gears in her head are turning even faster than before. Her overthinking is going to give her a headache.

Night time comes entirely too quickly for Kamile’s liking. Mingyu has kept her so busy that she hasn’t had the time to sit down to sort through her thoughts. Knowing him, he probably did that on purpose. He always hated her habit of overthinking everything, preferring to live in the moment and make decisions as they arose. Kamile has never had much success doing that which is why they work so well together. He balances her out and helps her weed out the important aspects of the topic at hand to make faster decisions. 

Her mind is racing as they climb the stairs on their way to bed. Mingyu stops at the door to his bedroom and looks at her with such hope on his face that she almost feels guilty for what she’s about to say. His face falls when Kamile tells him that she thinks it’s better for them to sleep in their own respective rooms tonight. Mingyu is a good sport about it, bidding her good night with a lingering kiss to her forehead. 

Falling asleep has never been a problem for Mingyu which is why he’s utterly confused when he’s still wide awake three hours after getting into bed. He’s in danger of pulling the sheets off of the mattress on one side from how much he’s been tossing and turning. 

This is bullshit. I’ve been sleeping fine every night. What’s the difference now?

Mingyu sits up to fluff his pillows. It doesn’t help. He kicks the ceiling fan up a notch. That doesn’t help either. He counts sheep, ducks, and even cows, but nothing is working. The longer he tries to avoid the obvious the more awake he seems to be. Sleeping in the guest room most nights to avoid arguing had taught him to sleep alone. Now that he knows what it’s like to hold her again, he’s ruined. He wonders briefly if Kamile is awake too. Is she just as restless too? 

He tosses and turns for the better part of another hour. The clock on his phone says that 3 a.m is quickly approaching and Mingyu caves. It takes less than ten seconds to cross the hall to her room, but practicing his explanation as to why he’s in her room at ass o’clock in the morning takes much longer. He knocks twice and pokes his head in.

“Kam?”

“You can’t sleep either, huh?” She asks without even turning to look at the man poking his head into her bedroom. 

Mingyu nearly collapses from sheer relief when Kamile simply reaches behind herself to lift the blankets after he confirms that he’s been unable to fall asleep just like her. He wastes no time sliding in behind her. Before he can even get it out of his mouth to ask, Kamile reaches back to find his arm, pulling it across her waist. 

“Good night, Gyu.” Kamile whispers. Her words are slurred as if she’s already half asleep. Mingyu kisses her shoulder, letting his lips linger against her skin.

“Good night, Kam.”

Day 6

A feather light touch to her lower lip is what prompts Kamile to open her eyes long before she’s ready. She pulls back slightly once her vision clears and she realizes just how close Mingyu’s face is to her own. He even has the audacity to laugh at her surprise.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d wake up.” He’s not sure how long he’s been watching her sleep, but he’d do it for the rest of his days. The pesky organ in his chest skips a beat as he holds Kamile’s gaze like a lifeline. He mulls over his next words very carefully, preparing for a possible rejection just as he did when he came to her room in the middle of night. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please do.” She whispers into the inch of space that separates them. 

Mingyu closed the gap slowly as if he’s giving her time to change her mind. Kamile sighs when his lips finally touch hers. One of his hands comes up to untie the silk scarf tied protectively around her head so that he can bury his hand in the curls he’s always been obsessed with. He uses his grip on her to guide her head as he deepens the kiss. 

She rolls onto her back and pulls him with her so that his much larger frame nearly covers hers entirely. Mingyu lets his primal instincts take over. Too lost in the way her lips are moving against his own. A groan rattles his chest when she squirms beneath him until his hips are situated between her thighs. The thin fabric of their respective underwear are the only barriers separating his aching erection from the place she needs him most. He can’t resist the urge to grind himself against her. If his brain wasn’t so clouded in lust, he’d probably have the mental capacity to feel a little embarrassed at just how quickly he’s risen to full mast. Kamile is floating somewhere beyond cloud nine when Mingyu’s hand that had been cradling her head moves to lightly grip her throat instead while the other rhythmically squeezes and pushes at her ass in time with his thrusts. Her head is tipped back in ecstasy as he kisses along her jaw.

It takes a herculean effort that he wasn’t totally sure he was even capable of, but Mingyu separates himself from the panting woman in his arms. He rocks back on his heels and Kamile’s eyes are immediately drawn to the tantalizing bulge at the apex of his shapely thighs. She reaches for him but Mingyu grabs her wrist before she can get her hands on him. He lifts her hand to his lips, pressing kisses to the back of it.

“Trust me when I say that I would love nothing more than to ravage you right now but if I’m going to be inside you again, I want you to have my ring on your finger.” Kamile starts to speak but stops when Mingyu presses his index finger to her lips. He traces the outline of her kiss swollen lips almost as if he’s in a trance. “I don’t want you to make a decision that you’re not totally comfortable with just because you’re horny. I want you to really want it. I want you to really want us. Now get up so I can feed you.”

A vulgar comment about what she really wants him to feed her crosses Kamile’s mind as Mingyu playfully swats at her thighs to get her moving. She respects his resolve and keeps it to herself but only barely. 

“It’s super nice outside. Wanna go for a walk?” Kamile would actually rather stay inside and enjoy the comforts of the air-conditioning, but Mingyu looks so excited that she finds herself giving in. She disappears upstairs to put on her sneakers mentally kicking herself for being so whipped for the man waiting for her by the patio door.

Mingyu laces his fingers between Kamile’s

They happen across a small stream during their casual stroll around the property. Kamile stops to look at Mingyu to see if he’s on the same wavelength as her. 

“Let’s do it.” 

Their shoes are abandoned under a tree near the creek before running full speed into the water.  The cooler temperature of the water feels like heaven. Kamile squeals when Mingyu splashes her with water. Mingyu suddenly lifts her over his shoulder, using the hand that’s not holding on to her to splash Kamile with more water. She’s out of breath from laughing when he finally lets her down only to steal the rest of her breath away when he surprises her with a kiss. 

“What was that for?” She’s slightly dazed both from the lack of oxygen and the searing kiss he’s just laid on her.

“Because.” He smirks at her before swooping in for yet another kiss.

“And that one?”

“Because part two.” Kamile giggles at his corniness even though she does her best not to give him the satisfaction of knowing it gets to her. Mingyu’s smile somehow gets even bigger at the sound of her laughter. He digs his fingers into his sides to prolong her laughter for his own enjoyment. 

They spend a little longer frolicking around before finally heading back to the house to shower and start on dinner. Kamile unsuccessfully lobbies to shower together but Mingyu is adamant in his refusal. He’s positive that the self-control he exhibited earlier that morning used up all the restraint he could’ve ever hoped to have for the next six months. There’s no way he’d be able to deny her. He kisses her quickly before running off to his own bathroom. 

Mingyu is totally and completely in love. He absentmindedly pushes his food around with his fork as he listens to Kamile rant about the mistreatment and near erasure of some X-Men character named Darwin. He’s got absolutely no idea what she’s talking about but she’s so passionate about it that he can’t help being fascinated. 

“Darwin’s whole entire superpower was that he could adapt to anything and you mean to tell me that robots designed to adapt to and counteract the powers of mutants were built off of Mystique’s DNA? Absolutely not. I might be a little-” Her rant is cut short by her phone ringing on the kitchen counter where she’d left it. She grumbles about being interrupted as she gets up to go get it. It’s Yeojin. 

Kamile returns to the table with her phone, choosing to sit in Mingyu’s lap for their daily check-in. The marriage counselor should get a kick out of that one. Sure enough, their seating arrangement is the first thing that Yeojin comments on. They take turns updating her on everything that’s occurred since they last spoke with her though they leave out some of the more sordid details. 

“This is what I like to hear!” She exclaims with an excited clap of her hands. “It seems that everything is going well right now. Is there anything we haven’t talked about this week that one of you wants to go over? If not, I’m comfortable ending the call here.” They say their goodbyes after confirming that they feel like they’re in a good place right now. Yeojin makes them swear to call her the moment they think they need her but she doubts that she’ll be hearing from them  until their follow-up appointment in a few days. 

Kamile makes to get up to return to her own chair but Mingyu stops her. She shrugs and reaches across the table to grab her own bowl. He smiles to himself as she resumes the rant that she’d been in the middle of before Yeojin’s call. He still has no idea what she’s going on about but he’s content to just listen to her vent. 

Day 7

Anxiety twisting her gut into knots is what eventually pulls Kamile from the bliss of sleep. Mingyu’s side of the bed is empty and she’s thankful for that to a certain extent. She heads for the shower, taking extra care with everything she does until she realizes how cowardly it is to stall like this. Deciding against putting on actual clothes, Kamile opts to just pull on one of oversized hoodies.

“Good morning!” Mingyu leans over to kiss her sweetly before turning back to the pan he’s tending to on the stove. He’s been doing that a lot since yesterday. Just randomly stealing kisses like he’s making up for lost time. 

“Just so you don’t get freaked out when they show up, I’ve got a private chef coming to cook us dinner tonight.” Mingyu mentions as they sit down to eat breakfast. She’s pleasantly surprised that he’s put in so much thought into their anniversary even though he’s yet to directly mention the fact that today is their anniversary. 

Today is their last day in their little safe haven away from the world and the status of their marriage is still technically up in the air. They both know that a decision needs to be made before they leave in the morning, but neither of them has brought it up. It’s like they’ve been tip toeing around the giant elephant in the room and expecting for it to just disappear on its own. 

Other than Mingyu making tteokbeokki, extra spicy and extra cheesy just the way Kamile likes it, they don’t really do much throughout the day. A majority of their time is spent tangled in each other on the couch just talking. They reminisce on the days when they’d first started dating. Kamile nearly falls off of the couch in a fit of laughter at Mingyu’s spot on impression of Vernon’s face when he’d caught them sneaking a few kisses in the dorm kitchen one day. Each memory is sweeter than the last and Kamile is overcome with the urge to make more of those memories. Now that she’s been able to let go of the anger and misplaced resentment that had made her bitter, she actually has hope in that possibility.

The heels of the platform pumps she’d decided on for the night click with every step as Kamile slowly descends the staircase. She’s determined not to let her natural clumsiness send her to the hospital on such an important day. Mingyu holds his hand out to her when she reaches the last few steps. He looks every bit the international superstar that he’s known to be.

“You look absolutely stunning.” Warmth spreads across her face at the whispered compliment. She barely manages to return the favor. Kamile’s nerves are starting to get the better of her and she hopes and prays that there’s wine on the table so that she can drink them away.

Thankfully, Kamile notices a bottle of white wine chilling in an ice bucket next to the table when Mingyu leads her into the dim dining room. The dinner prepared by the chef looks delicious and she’s can’t wait to taste it but wine is her first priority if she expects to make it through dinner without bolting. Her first glass is tipped down her throat in record time much to Mingyu’s amusement. He refills without hesitation though she chooses to actually sip that one as intended.

Conversation flows easily between them as they eat. However, the topic that deserves their attention the most continues to stew on the back burner as they talk about literally anything else. As nervous as Kamile was when she first came downstairs, Mingyu is doubly so. He’s done his almighty best to convince Kamile that their marriage is worth saving without outright begging her. Based on the past few days, he’s incredibly hopeful that she’ll come back home with him tomorrow and stay there but she’s always been a wildcard. You never truly knew what move she was going to make until she made it. The small velvet box in his pocket feels like a stone. During a lull in the conversation, Mingyu makes his move.

“Kamile,” He reaches across the table to grab both of her hands, “Four years ago you agreed to be my girlfriend and I thought that surely that was the happiest day of my life but then you said yes to being my wife and I knew then that I was wrong. You’re the most precious part of my life and I was a fool for not making sure that you knew that every day for the last year.”

Mingyu pauses to get down on one knee next to Kamile, pulling the ring box from his pocket. Her ring is nestled in the tiny velvet box. It sparkles brilliantly even in the dim lighting. “Kamile Kim, will you do me the honor of staying my wife?” 

Tears well up in Kamile’s eyes as she nods her head yes. She’d made countless lists and weighed her options, but in that moment she throws all of that logic to the wind. At the end of the day, Mingyu is the one. He always has been and he always will be. She can’t believe that she almost threw everything away over her own assumptions and insecurities. Mingyu doesn’t hesitate to slide the piece of jewelry onto her trembling hand when she holds it out to him. He stands, pulling her with him so that he can kiss her senseless. 

“I’ve been waiting to say this until I knew where we stood but….happy anniversary, babe.”

“Happy anniversary, Gyu.” She whispers against his lips before kissing him deeply once more. “Now take me upstairs.”

“Your wish is my command, my lady.” 

[backtobackbakubabe]

I am the Alpha Now Part 14

Bakugo X Reader

Words: 2194

Masterlist

Reader is from America and somewhat of a delinquent with an alpha quirk that allows her to turn into a wolf as well as bond with dogs. She is sent to UA to straighten out her attitude. She ends up in a power struggle with none other than our favorite hot head. Words in Italics are words said telepathically.

“Wait, wait, wait… Shigaraki? As in the leader of the League of Villains and YOUR BOSS! That Shigaraki?”

Dabi’s grip tightened on the wheel, “You know I’m starting to question how smart the kids at UA really are? YES! That Shigaraki.” His eyes shifted to his mirrors as if to check they weren’t being followed. “He’s been a pain in my ass lately… He’s always been twisted and ambitious. But now he’s… I don’t know he’s unhinged. He’s gotten sloppy and I’m tired of cleaning up after him.”

You could feel the panic bubbling in your stomach. You rolled your window down and took in a huge gulp of fresh air, trying to settle your nerves.

Dabi scoffed, “Hey where did the ‘I’ll go feral and kill you all’, crazy bitch go? You look like you’re ready to puke all over my car.”

You closed your eyes as you continued to breathe through your panic. “Why do you even need me? Don’t you have some badass cremation quirk? Just light the dude on fire and call it a day. I don’t see where I play into all of this.”

A tense silence fell over the car, but you could hear Dabi speeding up. “Look I wouldn’t expect you to understand right now, but I have a role to play just like everyone else. Believe me I would love nothing more than to watch as that dusty fuck turned into a pile of ash. Hell, I’d probably roast marshmallows over it. But for many reasons that are none of your fucking business… I can’t.”

You finally found the nerve to turn to look at him. “I still don’t see why you need me to do it. From what I understand, long distance attacks have the most success with him, and I specialize in close combat. How am I supposed to fight him if I can’t let him touch me?”

Dabi was whipping the car into a parking garage now, the shadows taking over his features. “You heal right? I saw it with my own eyes. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I tested it earlier in the alley after you passed out. I saw how quickly your head was healing so I tried to cremate one of your fingers.”

Your eyes almost bugged out of your sockets, which caused Dabi to roll his. “What? Don’t give me that look. I’m a villain… I beat you unconscious and kidnapped you and all that’s what makes you mad? You don’t even need all ten fingers!” He parked his car and grabbed your wrist and pulled your hand up to your face. “Look you’re fine. It regenerated almost as quickly as I could burn it.”

You ripped your wrist from his grasp. Rubbing the spot his fingers had just been. “Just because it worked with your quirk doesn’t mean it’ll work with his. I’m not invincible.” You shuddered as the memories of being tortured start to stir in your mind.

He could see the hesitation in your eyes. “I need to make something clear. While I don’t necessarily mean you any harm… I also don’t give a fuck about your well-being. So, this…” He gestured to your pained expression. “Needs to stop. Because I don’t care. You may not be invincible… but you are expendable. You bite the dust, we’ll just recruit someone else. Maybe even your boyfriend.”

You froze. What did he mean by we?

Dabi got out of the car and came around to your side and opened your door. You looked around the parking garage behind him, looking for an accomplice. “Are you going to get out on your own, or are you going to make me drag you?”

You couldn’t see, hear, or smell anyone besides Dabi. So, you slowly stepped out of the car, all the while flipping him off. “I’d love to see you try asshole. Lay a hand on me and I’ll pin you down and pull out every single one of those stupid staples one by one with my teeth.”

Dabi leaned forward so his eyes where level with yours, “Don’t tempt me with a good time.”

Before you could even say anything another presence suddenly filled your senses. One moment it was just you a Dabi and the next someone was there behind him.

“Easy you two. As much as I would love to watch, we kind of need to get somewhere private.” You looked at the familiar man with the red wings. He gave you a sad smile, “There are a lot of people looking for you kid.” He gestured towards the elevator and you and Dabi followed. The man looked over his shoulder at Dabi, “Including your dad. Apparently he was ready to give her a job. He’s not too thrilled.”

Dabi growled, “More reason for me to keep her.”

You kicked at the back of his knee making him fall as you stepped around him into the elevator. “I am not, and never will be your fucking pet. I am an Alpha.” Your eyes glowed as your fury of being treated like a plaything grew.

The man standing next to you whistled, “Damn, I knew you were intense but that was probably the best thing I’ve seen all month. But I guess you’d have to be a little aggressive to deal with Bakugo every day.”

You tried not to react to hearing your boyfriends name, but your heart pounded. He knew Katsuki? You wondered if he knew if he was okay…

You gave him a harsh glare, “Who the fuck are you and how do you know Bakugo?”

It was Dabi’s turn to chuckle now at the man’s shocked expression. “Just a ray of sunshine isn’t she bird brain?”

The blonde man made room for Dabi in the elevator before pushing a button. His attention returned to you, “You seriously don’t recognize me? I’m a pro hero. Number two to be exact.” You stared back blankly and shrugged. His eyes widened, “Oh come on! I’m Hawks…”

You maintained a bored expression, “Nice to meet you… what are you doing here with an LOV member number two pro hero Hawks…”

You watched him squirm a little, but he soon wore a dazzling smile, “We go way back. Best friends some people might say. Not him, but someone I’m sure.”

The doors to the elevator closed and you could feel your anxiety starting up again. You were trapped between two strange men, who could probably kill you if they really wanted to. Hawks could see your tension and made an effort to trade places with you, putting you closer to the door and away from Dabi.

As soon as the door opened you stepped out. Welcoming the cool air conditioning tethering you to reality and keeping your anxiety at bay. You’ve been kidnapped before. You were doing everything you could to keep those memories buried.

Hawks lead you to a room that needed a key card and a six digit code to get in. Once the door closed behind you, you stiffened. You could feel your nails grow out to claws and your teeth sharpen to a point. They may not be trying to hurt you right now. But that could change at any moment.

Dabi took one look at you clawed hand and sighed, “I need a drink if we’re going to be behaving like this. Be right back.” He gave you a curious glance, “You want anything?”

You shook your head, not trusting your voice not to give away your subtle anxiety.

As soon as Dabi was out of earshot you pulled Hawks to you, “You never told me how you know Katsuki…. Do you know if he’s okay? He hasn’t done anything stupid has he?”

Hawks groaned, “We had to send out a search party for him. Lucky for us it’s kind of hard to stay stealthy in the middle of downtown with a giant fucking wolf dog.”

Your eyes burned into his, “So he’s okay then? Someone keeping an eye on him?”

Hawks patted your tense shoulder, “Physically, yeah… he’s fine. But you leaving like you did really did a number on him. He wouldn’t come back to UA without kicking and screaming the whole way. Kept saying shit like, ‘I can’t feel her’ , ‘somethings wrong’ he wouldn’t even listen to his red headed friend. What his name, the hard guy?”

“Kirishima?”

“Yeah! Him. It wasn’t pretty. He’s a wreck.”

Your heart ached. Not only as his girlfriend, but as an Alpha. Your instincts are screaming at you right now. Your only job is to protect your pack. He’s hurting. Mercy is hurting. And you are the reason why.

You walked away before Hawks could see the tear spilling over your cheek. You stepped to the window trying to get a better idea of your surroundings. Even though you had absolutely no idea where you were. You took a deep breath and slowly opened up the bond.

*******Bakugo’s POV***********

“No you don’t understand she’s not just gone, she’s fucking GONE! I can’t feel her anymore.” Bakugo paced back and forth in his room. Mercy sat on his bed, his eyes following him but saying nothing besides the occasional whimper. “We’re literally bonded now. I’m supposed to be able to feel her Kiri. I’m supposed to be able to instinctively now that she’s okay. And now it’s gone. There’s just a fucking void. She’s gone… I can’t find her. Neither can Mercy.” He ran his hands through his hair for the hundredth time. Keeping his frantic hands busy. “He said she could have turned it off…. Or she… she could be… she could be fucking dead! None of you seem to care!”

Kiri put his hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down, “Hey man, we’re going to find her okay. We just need you to calm down first.”

“CALM DOWN?! How the hell am I SUPPOSED TO CALM DOWN?! Did you not just hear what I said?”

Bakugo slumped to the floor and leaned against the end of his bed, letting Mercy put his head next to his. “We have to believe she’s okay. If not it’s going to drive us crazy. Look on the plus side. We are bonded to each other through her. If she were dead, wouldn’t our bond have died as well. As long as you can hear me I have to assume she’s alive.”

Bakugo reached up and started petting Mercy, “I hope you’re right about that. What happened last time… when she you know…?”

Mercy gave Bakugo’s cheek a quick lick, “The last time she died… I could feel the stress her body was under and then it was gone. Right now it feels almost like a closed door. The bond is still there, we just can’t use it. Then it felt like a brick wall. It wasn’t just her presence that was gone, the whole bond disappeared too. It was terrifying.”

There was a ringing in Bakugo’s ears. Had it been there long? Was his hearing deteriorating without you there to take care of him. Was there something wrong with the bond? Was there something wrong with you? The ringing grew louder and louder until it consumed him. He clutched his hands in his hair and yelled for it to stop. Tears pricked at his eyes as his breathing got shorter. He was on the verge of one of the scariest panic attacks he had ever had and then all the sudden his chest burst open with warmth.

He was bombarded with soothing thoughts and a happy relaxed buzz. He tried to grip it for dear life. This was you. He knew it was. He reached out the way you taught him, and he tried to find you. He got a quick glimpse of a cityscape through what looked like a window. But before he could figure out where you were it was turned off again.

He felt like he had been sucker punched. Kiri was looking at him like he had lost his mind. “Hey… are you okay. I know you can like talk to Mercy and stuff. But it still freaks me out. Then one moment your raging, then the next your crying, and then out of nowhere you look completely blissed out…” Kirishima sat next to Bakugo looking concerned. “I’m worried about you. You seem a little… unstable.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever we can talk about it later in therapy.” Bakugo pushed Kiri to the side and looked at Mercy, “You felt that right? That’s a good sign, right?”

Mercy barked and jumped towards the door, “She’s alive alright, and she wanted us to know it. From what I could tell she was unharmed. A little stressed out, but otherwise healthy. I couldn’t figure out where she was though. How about you?”

Bakugo was grabbing his hero gear and rushing towards the door. “Not a one hundred percent sure. But I have a decent idea of the general area.” He looked at a shocked Kiri who was still on the floor. “You gonna come help me save my girl or what?”

*****************************************

Tags :

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[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Hb combining 1 w 37 in which steve (or bucky) is trying to mention that theyre a mobster but get interrupted by the rival gang and they have to run & end up in an alley 👀👀

1.  here’s people chasing us and I pulled you into the alley with me and wow you’re close

37. We’re dating and I didn’t know you were a mobster/biker

Y/N found Steve so peculiar.

This was their fifth date and Steve hadn’t so much as kissed Y/N on the cheek. He’d given her a hug after their second date, but it had been Y/N who even initiated it. Steve had placed his hand protectively on her back on their first date when a homeless man was yelling crazily on the sidewalk and started eyeing Y/N.

However, Y/N wasn’t mad about it. She was just so taken aback from it. Steve acted like men from a time when gentlemen were expected, not a rarity.

She actually preferred this slow burn. It took her awhile to trust people, men especially. Without trust, she wasn’t comfortable with intimacy, particularly physical intimacy.

Y/N just wasn’t sure if she were misreading Steve’s politeness for disinterest. Or maybe he was in the closet still, and refused to realize that maybe women weren’t for him.

But if Steve wasn’t actually interested in her, why had he insisted on taking her to dinner tonight and having their fifth date?

“I was grounded for a month after that. Mom didn’t take too kindly to me beating someone up, even if he was an asshole who was making fun of my best friend for being gay.” She told him with a nostalgic smile. 

Steve looked at her over the candlelit dinner with a amused smirk and pride in his eyes.

“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” he chuckled before taking another sip of his whiskey.

“You? I would never touch a hair on your head.”

His brows raised in surprise. “Yeah? And why is that?”

“You wouldn’t hurt a fly, Steve. I can’t even imagine you losing your temper, let alone getting into a physical fight.”

His amusement dropped for a second. But he kept his cool composure.

“Well, certainly not with you,” was all he answered back. That way he didn’t feel like he was lying. No, he’d never harm her. He struggled with even imagining a scenario where he’d lose his temper with Y/N.

The dinner as a whole was almost comically pleasant and…comfortable. Y/N had never felt that unsureness or awkwardness on any of her dates with Steve that were so common in her dating life.

Steve felt like a friend first, which took all the pressure off for Y/N and made her feel like she could just be herself.

After splitting two different desserts and espresso, the waitress brought the check directly to Steve. He thanked her by using her name, which made Y/N wonder how often he came to this particular restaurant.

Steve never let her pay for literally anything: dinner, drinks, coffee. If he thought it was too late for her to take the subway home alone, he would pay for a taxi or another ride service.

Y/N tried not to let her feminist mind get upset about it. But the way Steve went about it was so smooth and unbothered that she didn’t feel like there was something expected of her in return.

“Thanks for meeting me for dinner,” he told her sweetly as helped with her jacket and lead them to the restaurant’s exit.

“Yeah, my presence is always sought after… you’re lucky I could fit you into my demanding schedule,” she answered back so sarcastically that made him chuckle in return.

When they stepped outside, the most beautiful flurry had started. It didn’t stick to the ground and it didn’t make the air any colder. It just fell like a prop in a movie.

Y/N looked up at the sky and then smiled at Steve.

“You up for a little walk?” She asked, not ready to leave his side quite yet.

There was still so much mystery around him. She needed to solve it before she conjured up any false ideas about him.

He smiled back. “A walk sounds great.”

With Steve’s old-school manners, Y/N half expected him to offer his arm to her. But they simply walked side by side, their hands in the pockets of their coats to keep them warm.

“Are you keeping something from me?” Y/N finally blurted out after they had walked in comfortable silence for some time.

His brow furrowed. “What?”

She stopped walking and turned to face him. “You’re too perfect, Steve. You’re polite. You manage to make me feel like a lady, and just an actual respected human being. You ask me genuine questions. You pay for everything like it’s the 1930s. You haven’t tried to prematurely cop a feel – which I oddly appreciate, by the way.”

She took in a deep breath after she listed everything so quickly. “What’s your flaw, huh?”

Steve just shifted his weight.

“Are you married?”

His eyes widened. “What? No! Of course not.”

“Then do you have a girlfriend?” Y/N countered.

“No, Y/N. I’m not even seeing anyone else. Just you.”

“Are you gay?” Y/N regretted it the moment the words came out of her mouth.

Steve actually laughed at that. “I can assure you that I’m not.”

Y/N was about to continue her interrogation when Steve’s gaze went past her shoulder, clearly catching something behind her.

He muttered a curse under his breath. It was the first time she had ever heard him swear.

Without giving any warning or explanation, Steve quickly grabbed a hold a of her hand and pulled her into the nearest alleyway. Y/N yelped at the surprise of it all.

She was just about to ask what the hell was going on when she realized how close Steve was to her.

Her back was pressed against the cold brick of the building.

Meanwhile, Steve’s face was mere inches from hers.

He had yet to invade her personal space in such a way. And to Y/N’s surprise, her heart was racing from the thrill of it all instead of the anxiety it usually induced when other men did such a thing.

Steve’s eyes flickered to her lips and then dug into her gaze.

How did such a look make Y/N feel more vulnerable than any time she’d ever been naked with a man?

“Sorry–It’s just–I saw someone I knew,” he explained lamely.

Y/N nodded. “Oh, yeah? Ex-girlfriend?”

He didn’t laugh at the joke, just shook his head. “No, no.” Then he winced. “Look, I can’t – I really don’t want to lie to you.”

“Then don’t,” she retorted a bit harshly.

“I haven’t lied to you about who I am. I just conveniently left out a bit about my work.”

Y/N chuckled. “What? Are you gonna now tell me you’re some kind of New York gangster or something?”

Steve didn’t laugh once again. He swallowed. His eyes held all the answers Y/N needed.

“Holy shit,” she gasped. “You are.”

He said nothing.

It made sense, which was why Y/N knew he wasn’t pulling so weird prank on her. The money he seemed to have a plethora of. The suaveness and confident air around him. His perfectly tailored clothes.

This was the thing that made Y/N question his genuineness.

Y/N glanced back out at the sidewalk. “So, who exactly are we hiding from then? A rival gang or some shit?”

“It’s not that simple,” Steve sighed. “My…occupation… makes me more enemies than friends.”

“Did we just avoid a shootout or stabbing?” Y/N almost laughed at how ridiculous the question sounded.

“No, of course not. We’re not sloppy.” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t-I can’t have them see you. As soon as they get a look at you – or the way I look at you, for that matter – they’ll…” His words died out.

His eyes softened as he stared at her. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t really know how, to be honest. Most of the women I’ve been with had an idea of who I was before agreeing to a date.”

Y/N put her hand to Steve’s chest and forced him back a few steps.

The new space between them felt like a galaxy. 

“If this isn’t some fucked up joke–”

“It’s no joke, Y/N.” Steve interrupted her.

She took a step away from him, walking backwards slowly but keeping his stare. “So, if I walk away right now…does that end with me at the bottom of the East River?” Her voice was shaking. 

Steve’s face turned crestfallen as he realized that Y/N was now scared of him, even convinced he would kill her.

“Y/N, please believe me…I’d never hurt–I’d never touch you.”

For some reason, she believed him.

But that wasn’t enough.

She started shaking her head, still tiptoeing backwards. “I’m sorry, Steve. I-I can’t.”

“Can’t what?” He challenged.

“I can’t be some mobster wife… or-or-or whatever I’d be to you.”

Steve’s head fell. All his exact fears were coming true. Fears that had grown when he realized he had started falling for Y/N. 

“I understand,” he replied evenly, even though it hurt like hell to say it.

“I’m sorry.” She was at the end of the alley again.

Did the moonlight and flurry have to frame her face so beautifully? Was this his punishment for all the terrible things he’s done?

“You don’t have to keep saying that,” he muttered. “I should be the one apologizing.”

Y/N just nodded shakily. “Goodbye, Steve.”

Then she turned and rounded the corner, leaving the alleyway and Steve’s sight.

He sighed and rubbed his face. His heart was beating so fast that he swore it was starting to hurt. He started pacing in the shadows of the alley, trying to control his emotions.

His back was turned to sidewalk when he heard the click of her heels hurriedly returning.

He whipped around.

And before he could ask her what the hell she was doing, her lips crashed to his.

Steve instantly reciprocated, clutching her face and pulling her even closer

He’d wanted to know what her lips tasted like as soon as he had seen her for the first time. But she scared the hell out of him and he tried to be a patient gentleman.

Y/N’s fingers weaved through his hair, tugging even, and it only drove Steve crazier.

Steve even let her shove him back against the alley wall.

His grip was tight and possessive against her waist.

Y/N couldn’t help but wonder what his grip would feel like against her naked skin.

Then she snapped out of it and quickly broke the kiss.

However, they lingered. Both of them were trying to catch their breath. It was the only sound in the alley. 

Steve pressed his forehead against hers.

And suddenly his hunger turned into a softness, a need for her.

But he knew what this was. And it wasn’t Y/N changing her mind.

“I’m sorry.” Y/N heaved. “I just had to know.”

Then she ripped herself from his arms and left the alley. For good this time.

———————————–

PART TWO

Feedback. Feedback. Feedback. Please. Please. Please. 

***REQUESTS ARE CLOSED***

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One-Shots Masterlist

[houseof-harry]

What Happens in Jersey Pt. 8 | G.D.

A/N - she’s finally here! I’m sorry it took so long, but it had to meet my impossibly high standards. Get hype! Read the last part here!

Word Count - 4.7k

Warnings - none :)

Recap:

He sucks a breath in, his thoughts racing through his head a mile a minute. He had no clue how much you’d misinterpreted what happened with Jessie and how much you were unaware of how flexible he could be with his job and how much him and Ethan were looking to come back to the East Coast anyways. And most importantly, he had no idea you were unaware of how much he cared about you, your happiness, health, and well-being.

But before he can say any of that, you’re walking towards the door.

‘Y/N-“

“No. It’s Jessie’s fucking graduation party, we’re not going to ruin it.”

And with that you were out the door, not even looking back at him.

***

The rest of the party went well, without any hiccups. You even got to spend some time with Ethan, which you really enjoyed. He was always so stressed free it seemed, and he was even able to make you laugh.

Only when it started to wind down did your anxiety pick up again. You saw the Dolans making their rounds, saying goodbye to everyone they knew. Of course they saved you for last, Lisa and Ethan saying their goodbyes before leaving Grayson alone with you.

“Please let me take you to eat something.”

You can hear the desperation in his voice, and he makes it difficult to do anything other than agree with him. You simply nod, going to grab your phone. You don’t even care that you’re not hungry, you hope that maybe what you’d said had finally resonated with him and this could be the last time you have to have this type of conversation with him. You’d finally be able to like him from a distance, safely.

He brings you about 20 minutes from Jessie’s house to a small diner. The parking lot was almost empty, just a few cars that you assumed belonged to the staff. It was only 5 o’clock, so you assumed business would pick up soon.

“What’s this place?” You ask as you both walk to the entrance together. He holds the door open for you as you walk inside.

“Found it when I first got my license. I love my family, and Ethan especially, but I needed some space sometimes. Would come here and get some coffee and food and be alone.”

You nod, looking around the inside. It was exactly what you’d expect from a diner that hasn’t been changed in 50 years. How cliché.

A young girl walks towards you smiling, telling you to sit wherever you’d like. You thank her and Grayson pulls you to what you assume is his favorite booth.

Once you were both settled, you started looking over the menu. “What’s your favorite?” You ask him.

“Well, now that I’m vegan I just get fries, but I know the burgers are really good. Know that, somehow, you’ve been craving meat.” A shiver runs through him as if the thought is absolutely horrible.

You giggle, nodding. “Yeah, a burger sounds really good. But I need my own fries.” Now that you were here, smelling the grease and the food you knew you couldn’t resist having what he suggested.

His exaggerated disgust continues as he collects your menus. The comfortable feeling you got around him right now made you even more hopeful. Maybe he’d listened to you, and you could be friends. Back to a good old friend baby.

“I thought you should know Ethan and I are touring a couple houses tomorrow.”

Your smile fades as you look at him, your brows now raised. “Here?”

He nods. “Yeah. Well, in a couple of different towns, but all less than ten minutes from a train station so you can get to the city easily.”

You lean back against the smooth plastic of the booth, your skin sticking to the hard material. “For me?”

“Yeah, when you get a job.”

“Like I’d live there?”

He nods, confused with your confusion. “Yeah, we talked about that a few times. Me taking care of it all and stuff.”

You shake your head, the brick of anxiety right back in your gut. “No, no no. Helping is one thing. Buying a house is a whole other thing. I can’t rely on you like that.”

“Why do you say shit like that, Y/N? It’s okay to not be able to do this on your own, you didn’t get pregnant on your own. I understand it’s scary, I do. I’m scared too. But, this is gonna happen no matter if we ignore it or not and I’d rather get on our shit so we can do right by our baby.”

You sit there for a minute, processing his words. As much as you’d like to admit it, he’s right. You’re already halfway through your pregnancy and you haven’t done much to prepare for when the baby actually gets here.

“I just-“ you suck in a deep breath, looking away from him. “It’s hard for me to trust people. I’ve let people in to be hurt and let down by them when they were supposed to be nothing but loving and supportive. If they couldn’t do that, why would you be able to?”

Although your response was vague, Grayson is almost positive you’re talking about your parents. The same parents you’ve only mentioned once and it was only when he asked. Before all of this had happened, Jessie had let it slip that they weren’t great, but again he went into little detail. He wanted to know what had happened, what they could have done to make you so unwilling to trust people, but he also knows better than to pry.

“I don’t know what else I can do to prove I want to go through this with you, be here with you and raise our baby together. I even looked into the school districts of all the towns we’re going to tomorrow, I’m here for this. I don’t want to help you because you need it, which it’s okay if you do, but because I care about you. I think you’re strong and amazing, you’re probably one of the most respectable people I know.”

You sigh, sinking further into the booth. Your walls were quickly being knocked down by every word that came from his mouth, but there was still that part of you that didn’t want to believe this could be possible.

“What happens if you don’t like me anymore and don’t want to live together?”

“Y/N, we can go over a million what ifs, but that one’s ridiculous. No matter what happens to us, you’re still the mother of my baby and I will do whatever it takes to give them the best life possible. If it was absolutely necessary, I’d find another place to sleep.”

You nod, playing with the hem of your dress. “What about when you’re in LA and I’m working?”

“My mom can help when she’s not working, but at this point E and I are going to be based in Jersey and only going to LA for when we need.”

You raise your brow, sitting up straighter. “So you’d be here most of the year? For the baby?”

He nods, his hands coming to rest on the table, interlocked with one another. “I mean we’ve wanted to do this for a while anyways, but this just kind of put a fast forward on it.”

“So you won’t become spiteful or anything?” You don’t mean to sound judgmental and rude, but that’s definitely how it comes across.

“Y/N, no. I want this, I promise.”

Before you can conjure up another make believe situation, the same girl who greeted you came over and asked for your orders. You took Grayson’s advice and got a burger, and Grayson got the same soda you’d shared at the hockey game to go along with his fries.

Once the server is gone, his eyes are back on you, a small smile on his face.

“Can I come look at the houses with you guys?” You ask quietly, unsure of how he’d feel about that.

He nods enthusiastically, the smile widening on his lips. “Of course, yeah. We’re looking at four. Here, let me show you pictures.”

He reaches for his phone, but you shake your head. “No, I want to see them all fresh. Get a feel for them as I experience them.”

“I like the way you think.” He continues to smile, his body much more relaxed than before. “We’re meeting the realtor at 9 tomorrow morning.”

“I can make that work.”

***

You had about ten minutes before the twins would pulling into Jessie’s driveway and you were washing your dishes from the breakfast you had made for you and Jessie.

“So you’re really gonna live with them?” He asks from next to you, drying the plate you handed him.

You nod, a sigh passing your lips. You’d managed to keep talk of Grayson minimal with Jessie ever since March, but this was unavoidable.

“Yeah, makes the most sense. He’s really keen on giving our baby as much of a family we can no matter what, and I agree. If we all live together, it’ll be a lot easier to do that.”

You almost felt like a changed woman overnight. Last night, you and Grayson had stayed at the diner for almost three hours. You talked a bit more about the houses and the baby, but most of it was just catching up for the almost two months you didn’t share much with one another.

Him and Ethan were working on a new collection for their fragrance company, they had been doing all types of videos they loved, and the decision to come back to New Jersey. They had known that it would always be their home, but they were really excited to come back. LA had become too much, they felt more like themselves here.

You decided to tell him how the end of your semester went, how sad you were to be done with school but how excited you were to finally be able to do something you loved. When you were able to get a job, of course.

You both even found yourselves sharing things about your childhood, both good and bad. He told you about some of the hard things he experienced with bullying and you shared about your anxiety growing up. You didn’t go into detail, but it gave him some insight into how you thought now, why you were so timid in letting him in. It made him wonder what you saw in Jessie and why you so easily were able to trust him. But, he didn’t want to get into that.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?”

You felt frustration slowly start to bubble in you, feeling like you were quickly going to end up in the same situation as last time if you didn’t bite it in the butt.

“Jess, yes, I do. And no more questioning Grayson from you, I do it enough for the both of us. You agreed to just focus on us, not him. I’m not putting up with this shit again.”

Jessie leans back against the counter, his arms crossed after having dried the last dish. “I know, sorry. It’s just the last time you stayed with him it went south fast.”

“It went south after you got into some weird ass bidding war over me. But it’s different now. We’re good again and I’m working with Gray to be good with him, too.” You dried your hands, going to grab your phone to make sure you could see when Grayson texted you. Now you were more than itching to get out of the house.

“So you want space?”

You pause, pondering his suggestion. You’re sure he asked it just to hear you say ‘no’, but it honestly wasn’t a bad suggestion. Before you could really have them both in the same space it would be easier to figure out where you stood with both of them.

“I mean…maybe.”

Sure enough, he looks at you bewildered. “Y/N, come on. You can’t be serious.”

“I have to actually give him a chance. You had me for two months, and look where it’s gotten us. We’re good again. I need to at least try with him, I owe him that.” Your words almost surprise you as much as they do Jessie, but they’re the truth. You never gave Grayson a chance and yet he still continues to show how much he’s willing to support you and the baby.

“And you can’t do that with me being around?”

A sarcastic laugh bubbles up from your throat as you look at him in disbelief. “Not with the way you acted before, and definitely not the way you’re acting now. Not until you can actually be friends with him again.”

Jessie clenches his jaw, nodding while refusing to look your way. “We were never really friends. Only liked Ethan.”

“So then start to like him,” you snap and before he can respond, your phone buzzes with Grayson’s contact. You hold your hand up to Jessie before he can talk again, answering your phone. “Hey.”

“Hi! We’re outside.” Grayson’s voice floods your senses and for a moment, you feel better. Unfortunately, a moment is all it can be because you watch Jessie leave the kitchen, his jaw tense and his hands in fists.

“Be there in a minute.” You hang up the phone, quickly moving around the kitchen to get your things. You take a moment to breath, releasing some of the tension in your shoulders. You want to try and enjoy this day so bad, and the ball is in your court at this point. Either have a good time with the twins or let Jessie ruin it even when he’s not there.

Before you can overwhelm yourself with your thoughts, you go to the door and walk outside. You smile as soon as you can see the happy grin on Grayson’s face coming your way. Ethan was settling into the back seat, so you took it as your cue to sit in the passenger seat.

As soon as you open the door, Grayson is greeting you. He is spewing information about your day to you while you buckle and get comfortable, your hand instinctively covering your stomach over the seat belt.

“Ready?” He asks, his gaze on you.

You nod, your eyes meeting his. “Yeah.”

His smile falters a bit at the level of your voice. You were quiet, much less excited than him. As he started to drive, this scared him. What if you weren’t ready for this, and you had lied just to appease him? He was confused, because your dinner had been so good. He couldn’t stop thinking about you all night. The way you sounded telling him your fond memories from summers at the beach, or the less nice stories about your family. The way you’d look at him like you were almost a bit scared, but never enough to stop looking or talking. He felt like you’d finally started to let your walls down a bit, but it felt like they were right back up now.

The rest of the car ride is pretty quiet, your thoughts back at Jessie’s while your eyes followed the trees you passed. You were scared, genuinely. If Jessie didn’t get his shit together, a break wouldn’t be enough. You didn’t want to lose him, not after everything you’ve been through. But he needed to let you and Grayson figure out what you wanted to do.

The car pulled into a parking lot of a shopping center and next to a white SUV. A woman with blonde hair, tan skin, and crisp clothing stood behind it with a wide smile on her face. You guessed she was around 40, but you couldn’t be sure. You couldn’t tell if it was botox or just how perky she was, or even her colorful skirt and white blouse that was buttoned at the top. She seemed like she played tennis at the country club on the weekends with her friends. But, who were you to judge.

You heard her chipper voice greet the boys while you climbed out of the car. You let out a huff as your feet hit the ground, your hand gripping the door to keep your balance. You take a second to yourself to breathe, calming yourself. There’s no need to be so pessimistic all the damn time, right?

You make your way to the other side of the car, a tight smile making its way onto your face as the three people come into view.

“You must be Y/N! It’s so nice to meet you! I’m Beth.” Before you can even react, Beth is bringing you into a tight hug. You hug her back for a moment before stepping back.

“Hi, nice to meet you.”

“Grayson’s told me all about you and your little bean! May I?” Her hands over your stomach and honestly you don’t want her touching you, but saying no might make things awkward. And you might be finding your future home today, so you nod your hand and her hands are on you immediately. You shiver, her cold fingers causing goosebumps to cover your upper arms. Grayson notices and wraps an arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer to him.

“I remember being pregnant with my babies. Still carry some of that baby weight with me,” she chuckles, her hands moving from your stomach to her own. You say nothing because she probably weighs less than you did before you were pregnant. All you could was pray this woman was as good at finding homes as she was at giving you a headache.

“So Beth, where’s the first house we’re looking at?” Ethan asks and you’re beyond grateful. You weren’t a huge fan of the attention to start, and Beth just seems so…condescending. But, you decide to continue to act as normal as possible because you’re sure your hormones make your annoyance with the woman ten times higher than normal.

Thankfully, Ethan’s question gets Beth on a roll of describing the first house and the town it’s in as she tells you guys to get in her car.

Grayson opens the front door for you but you shake your head, pushing Ethan to sit there instead. If you sat in the back with Grayson you’d be much more able to focus on the positives of what Beth has to say without her voice giving you even more of a headache. Plus, sitting next to Grayson didn’t sound so bad.

The boys both don’t question you at first, and it’s only once you’re in the back, opting for the middle seat to sit closer to Grayson that he gives you a questioning look.

“You good?” He whispers, and you’re sure the two in the front can’t hear him over Beth’s full on monologue. You weren’t even sure she was talking about the house anymore.

You nod, giving him a small smile. “Yeah.”

“You won’t feel sick?”

“No, I don’t really get morning sickness now anyways. Plus I was cold, didn’t know it was gonna be cloudy today. Would have worn leggings or something.” You move so you’re right up against him, his warm skin soothing your anxious heartbeat.

Between going to tour fucking houses with your baby daddy (and his twin/soon to be your roommate) and your tiff with Jessie this morning, you were anxious. And you’re at the point in your pregnancy where everything makes you anxious because you don’t want anything to hurt your baby, so it’s just been a really stressful morning.

“Oh, so you’re using me,” he chuckles, his arm finding itself right around your shoulder again, pulling you as close as you possibly can be in the backseat of a car without literally being on his lap.

You giggle as you nod, wrapping your arms around his torso as you rest your head on his chest to look out the window. “Yeah, pretty much.”

The rest of the car ride is filled with Beth talking about herself and sometimes pointing out local things you pass as you get closer to the home.

You only lift your head once the car is stopped in front of a metal gate, a huge house standing behind the fence.

“So like I said, this house has a finished basement and a pool in the backyard,” Beth continues to drone on, but you can’t find it in yourself to listen even though now it would probably be useful to.

It was a massive fucking house. There was literally a separate five car garage you could see, the white shutters contrasting the blue shingles that lined the entirety of the exterior. There were flowers lining the walkway up to the front door, and you thought about how perfect it all looked. White picket fence, the whole nine.

Your stomach started to bubble with your ever persistent anxiety again as the reality of the situation hit you. Hard. You were literally going to be living in this house, or some other perfect house, with Grayson Dolan and your baby.

You let Grayson help you out of the car, and you walk with him up to the front porch and through the door. The inside was just as perfect as the outside, and it didn’t sit right with you. It felt pristine, but not homey.

Beth and Ethan speed past you, his interest being in the backyard. Grayson walks around with you wordlessly until you’re in the living room where he lets go of your hand to look at the pictures above the fireplace.

You look around, looking at the crème couch on top of the off-white carpet. A glass coffee table was in front of it, and there were a couple of magazines splayed out across the top. You know that the décor doesn’t come with the house, but it all seems so…fake. Like no one actually lives there.

“What’s wrong?” Grayson asks you, and you hadn’t noticed he’d turned around to watch you. “And don’t say nothing, that’s what you always say but I know your thoughts are racing.”

You sigh, crossing your arms. “When did you learn to read me so well?”

He laughs, walking closer to you to wrap his arms around your waist. “I mean all I do these days is think about you, look at you, worry about you. Makes it a lot easier to notice when something is making you uncomfortable or something. But you make it easy, your face and your eyes give you away pretty easily.”

You gasp, your hand coming to cover your mouth as you giggle. “Really? Like no poker face?” “None,” he laughs.

“Damn.” You wrap your arms under his arms around his upper torso, letting your face rest on his chest. His heartbeat makes you feel a bit better, grounding you despite the fact you feel like you’re on a movie set for a family show.

“So what’s wrong?” He gives you a squeeze.

“I mean, if I’m being honest it started this morning when I kind of fought with Jess,” you sigh. He tenses at the mention of Jessie, not saying anything so you can elaborate more. “I basically told him when I move out I think we should have some space because it’s only fair I give us the same chance to mend our relationship I gave him.”

Grayson’s heart swells at this. He literally thinks he’s the Grinch, but instead of starting with a shrunken heart, his has grown so big it might burst out of his chest. This is the first time you’ve ever really admitted to really wanting to work on any type of relationship to him, which is big. Communication has never been your forte, and the same goes for himself.

“He’ll come around,” Grayson reassures you.

“Will he though? I don’t think he realizes that there isn’t a choice for me in a way. Like a part of him is still waiting for me to just drop you or something.”

Grayson swallows hard, the thought of you fully breaking off any relationship with him making him almost break out into a sweat. He’s not sure what he would do if you did that, what that would mean for your baby.

“And I think it’s eating away at him slowly, which is making it harder and harder to try and go back to how we were. Because I can’t just act like you’re not important to me, and it’s not fair of him to expect that of me. I just don’t know what to do.” You’re pretty much whimpering at this point, nuzzling your face into his shirt, the warmth radiating from him making you feel a bit better.

“Well, you know you can’t change him so for now let’s focus on the house we’re going to raise our family in, and we can address the Jessie situation later,” he suggests.

You take in a big breath before looking at him, a tight smile on your lips. “You’re right. That’s what I was trying to do originally, but it clearly wasn’t working,” you giggle.

He rubs up and down your back to soothe you a bit. “It’s okay. What do you think of the house, at least?”

You look around the living room once more before meeting his gaze again. “Honestly?”

“Of course.” “Feels fake. Like it’s too perfect. I can’t imagine us actually relaxing in here after the baby’s finally gone down to sleep, the kitchen looks like you’re not even supposed to cook in it because who has white everything? I know I’ve never cooked for you and although I have nothing but great ratings, I make a mess. Not that I don’t clean it, but I’d be so much more worried about it. We need a place we can actually live in, not somewhere that’s aesthetically pleasing. We need a home, not just a house.”

He thinks about what you said for a minute, looking around the room. “You’re right.”

You frown, watching his face. “Why do you look disappointed?” “It was my favorite online,” he mumbles.

Guilt hits you immediately as you rub your hands up and down his back. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it in a bad way, it’s a really nice house.”

He shakes his head. “But you’re right, it has to feel like home. Somewhere we can see our baby growing up. All the white kind of reminds me of a doctor’s office.”

You nod, your nose scrunching up at the thought. “Yeah, it’s too sterile.”

“I’ll get Beth and E and we can go to the next one.” He pulls away from you to walk away.

“Are you sure?”

“If it’s not feeling like home to you, then it’s not the right place. I’m positive.” And with that, he’s gone.

The car ride to the next house felt like two minutes even though it was probably around 30 because you were sat in the back talking with Grayson again. Time didn’t seem to exist when he was there, and neither does any other person.

So when your conversation is interrupted by Beth, you snap your head forward to see you’re at another gate. This time, however, the house is hidden behind the trees.

“Did you guys hear that?” Her voice is still bright as ever, but you can hear the annoyance as well.

“No, sorry,” you mumble.

“So this property is on a lake. It has its own dock and pretty much the whole back of the house are windows looking over the water but you’re far enough from shore to still have the privacy you were looking for.” 

The car continues down the pebbled driveway as you look out the window. It’s basically a forest, all you can see is lush green and the blue sky that peaks through the opening caused by the driveway. Soon enough, the pebbles open up into a huge, circular driveway and a giant house wraps around the far side of the stones. It was a blueish gray with white detailing that looked just worn in enough to look cozy. The plants and flowers that surrounded the driveway and walkway were full and bright, adding to the warmness and welcoming you felt looking at the wooden front doors.

This is it.

You don’t want to say anything out loud to any of them yet because you haven’t even seen the inside yet, but this is it. This is your home.

[jooniperhun]

The End of the Rainbow | ot7 (1)

pairing: tall!black!reader x bts, poc!reader x bts, woc!reader x bts, black!reader x bts

genre: fluff, strangers to friends to (maybe) lovers [later], romance [later], comedy, misunderstandings [later], (slight) angst [later], smut (maybe??) [later], idol!au

rating: PG-14

wc: 2.3k

warnings: swearing

notes: the boys won’t make an appearance until chapter 2 but there is some foreshadowing in there (hint hint); pretend that corona never happened; most of the geographical locations/distances will either be made up or not named because I’ve never been to Korea lol whoops; this reads more like a reader-insert sorry that’s my default writing setting; and the boys’ backstories and such won’t be all that accurate because I’m the author and I say so teehee :)

“Text like this is spoken in Korean.”

“Text like this is spoken in English.”

summary: Your current job as a travelling housesitter has taken you to many places, some strange and many wonderful. When the acquisition of a new client takes you to Korea for three months, you wonder if your self-esteem can survive being around so many other-worldly looking people. Also, not to be paranoid or anything, but maybeperhaps you’re being stalked by the same seven strangers? They’re pretty loud and always surrounded by a tonne of people, so you write it off the first few times.

But this shit is getting excessive, chile. And annoying…

Rhetorical question, but what lies at the end of a rainbow? You hope that it’s a pot of gold, but with the way that your luck has soured, it might just be seven short(er than you), rowdy leprechauns ready to flip your world sideways…

Chapter 1: New Beginnings

Usually, when it came to social outings, ___ would go out of her way to make sure that she looked her best. Her wild mane would be tamed, her makeup would be carefully, painstakingly applied, and her clothes wouldn’t hold a single wrinkle. This, however, isn’t ‘usually’— this is an airport, and ___ currently couldn’t find it within herself to give a single, flying fuck about her appearance after the flight that she had just had. 

That isn’t to say that it was terrible— she was flying first class, for Christ’s sake! Not to mention that she didn’t have to spend a single dime on it (excluding the multiple new outfits and lashes that she purchased for herself because if she was anything, it was slightly vain). But a roughly 18 hour flight, combined with slight motion sickness? It doesn’t matter how comfortably she had dressed, or how attentive the flight attendants were, or how delicious the food was— ___ walked off of the landing strip probably looking exactly as she felt (read: terrible). 

Luckily, the good thing about airports was that she wasn’t the only one. No one paid her any mind, too worried about themselves and finding their respective luggages and families to be giving some rando more than a passing glance. 

She was officially in Seoul, South Korea, and she couldn’t read a damn thing.

Okay— slight exaggeration. Most of the signs had English (and Spanish, and Chinese, and Japanese) translations beneath the larger blocks of Korean, but her damn near-blind ass missed that the first time around. 

The airport looked as airports tended to look— large, modern, and clean. There was a beautiful netting of glass in the ceiling that let gentle rays of sunlight in. The walls were similarly comprised of the netting design and slanted outwards, away from all of the passengers. Statues and abstract constructions divided the masses. People from all walks of life milled around, looking for their luggage or anxiously waiting for their plane to arrive.

Incheon International Airport, Terminal One, Flight DL27. ___ reminded herself over and over of the number of where she would go for Baggage Claim, scanning the area and mumbling slightly to herself. She adjusted her dark shades and hefted her purse (her only carry-on) higher onto her shoulders, following the crush of fellow passengers into the depths of the fragile looking place. 

There were a lot of people walking around with black facemasks and shades on, so she was glad that she wasn’t the only shady-looking sista walking around. Inwardly snorting at her own pun, ___ nearly walked past her destination. 

It was honestly this part of each trip that gave her the most anxiety— that is, waiting for her suitcase to come around on the conveyor belt.

She had heard and read multiple horror stories about too many passengers never recovering their luggage. Either stolen, lost, or dropped from the airplane itself— if it could go wrong, it went wrong. But it’s not like hers’ is particularly interesting to look at. It was a simple, standard black. Only a red, knotted ribbon tied around the handle marked it as her own.

Ten minutes of fretful bag checking later, ___ finally found it. She gave a silent sigh of relief and turned towards the exit. Then, her anxiety flared right back up when she realized that she would have to hail a taxi to get to her destination. 

Honestly, her people-meter was getting a little bit too full for her to actually be initiating direct human interaction right now. 

But she would persevere! Even if her persistence could use a bit of work, she’s faked confidence enough times to make it. 

Getting a taxi to stop for her was like pulling teeth. By the time that she had stuffed her menial baggage into the trunk and clambered into the front seat, her temper had risen a few notches. She’s had a long two days. The flight wasn’t kind on her stomach or her sleep schedule— not to mention the fact that she felt disgusting. A shower sounded so nice right now… She didn’t want to be on the streets any longer than she had to be, dammit!

Donning her ‘Customer Service’ voice (as she liked to call it), she politely rattled off her destination to the driver in Korean. He was on the younger side for the profession (at least, from what she’s seen), with neatly laid dark hair and slightly tanned skin. His dark eyes constantly shifted from the road to her when they were stopped for traffic, but he luckily seemed to sense her mood as he did not say anything more than the polite initial greeting. 

All in all, it was a 30 minute drive filled with determinedly unawkward silence. ___ sent a quick text to her employer to inform them that she would be at the house in a bit, then sent another to her mother to let her know that she touched down safely. Almost immediately, her phone began to buzz.

Rolling her eyes, ___ answered. “Good morning to you too, Ma.” She said as her full lips tilted up in amusement. Upon hearing the English, the driver sent another glance in her direction.

“Hey, baby! It’s night time for us right now (we just got finished eating dinner). How was your flight?” Her mother’s voice gave a slightly tinny echo as she spoke, and the sound of shifting fabric clued ___ in to the fact that she, indeed, was probably on the toilet.

“Tiring. I forgot to buy Dramamine, so it was a fun time for me.” She switched hands with her phone so that she could look out of her window more comfortably. Little snatches of the city flashed by before they turned into a slightly more residential area. The houses here were large and gated, yet closely located. “How is everyone doing? No-one dead yet, right?”

Her mother snorted. “Yet is correct. Turns out, ya’ sister got herself a lil boyfriend—” ___ had to stifle her laugh before she gave herself away, “— and ya’ daddy wasn’t too happy when he found out. Her fast ass is sitting in her room right now, phone taken and everything. Woulda’ gotten an ass whoopin if we found anything triflin’ in it, but she’s clean.” Yeah, only because of her advice. No sending nudes back and forth, no secret folders dedicated to trifling shit, and no conversations going further than normal teen-girl gossip. Those were her three cardinal rules to sneaking around with a boy, and it seems that her little sister had done well to heed them.

“And the lil’ boy? Anyone we know?” ___ asked, playing along. If her parents found out she already knew about him, her ass would be grass, too. 

“Yes!” Ma exclaimed frustratedly. The driver jumped at the sudden loud sound in the otherwise silent car. “That nigga, Devin. Lives a block down from us? You know the one.” She gave the appropriate gasp at the news while rolling her eyes. Devin was a sweet boy who had a good future ahead of himself. There was no goddamn way she would waste her painstakingly gathered advice on someone who wasn’t good for her sister.

“Dam— I mean, wow. You think you know the people you live around...” She caught herself quickly before she cursed. Even halfway across the world, her fear of her ma’s wrath was still very, very healthy.

“I heard that, but I’ll let it slide this time.” Her mother’s tone was amused despite her previous outrage. 

“Anyways, as I was saying… I don’t see anything wrong with Devin. He was a nice boy, last time I talked to him.” From the cover of her shades, ___ watched the driver watch her from the corner of his eye. The car began to slow.

“Tell that to ya’ daddy. He—” Ma began to rant as ___ pulled the phone away from her ear. 

“How much do I owe you?” She asked quietly, hands dropping to rummage through her purse for her wallet as she cradled the phone between her ear and her shoulder. “—Alright, Ma. Imma have to call you back. We just pulled up to the house and I gotta get situated.”

Handing the driver the appropriate amount of Won, they both left the car to remove her luggage from his trunk. “Okay, sweetie. Love you! Call me again when you get settled in.” Her mother echoed as she mouthed a quick ‘Thank you,’ with a shallow bow.

“Gotcha. Love you, too! Bye.” She hung up and grabbed the handle of her suitcase, making it extend before dragging it behind her towards the house that they had stopped in front of.

She couldn’t really see anything past the high, brick walls and iron gate. Spotting an intercom, she quickly checked her reflection in her phone’s camera before she could press the button to call her employer.

Removing her silk head-scarf, she found that her high puff had held up reliably under it. She quickly stuffed it into her purse and pulled out her glasses case to place her shades in. Shoving that back in, too, she smoothed out her black jeans and checked for stains on her yellow top. It was only after assuring that her face was, indeed, clean that she rang the buzzer.

A red light blinked on before a voice answered. So there was a security camera for surveillance? Good. “Good morning! You must be ___, right?” Her voice was smooth and low, like velvet. It hinted towards an older age, especially when compared to the commonly high pitched tones of the youth.

“Yes, good morning.” ____ stepped back slightly to bow. The gate unlocked with a soft click, and she made her way up the driveway. She could only see one car at the moment, but from the size of the house— no, mansion—, she was sure that a lot more were probably in the garages (yes, plural).

The mansion was a modern white with a lot of windows to let in natural light. The lawn was cleanly cut and the rich, emerald grass shined with small droplets of morning dew. There was actually a surprising amount of yard space, which was ideal for pets and children. The only thing that she would be needing to worry about this trip was a dog and some plants, though.

Little solar-powered lights lined the walkway that ___ walked down. They looked nothing like the one-dollar versions from the Dollar Store, and definitely cost a lot more, too. She climbed a few stone steps to reach the porch. On either side of a dark-wooded door, two gold vases stood guard. They were almost as tall as her and intricately carved with little, delicate flowers. The welcome mat that she stood upon was a sensible dark brown and had a looping Welcome swirled across the front in white. 

She rang the doorbell and patiently waited.

A few moments passed before the door sprung open. The lady that answered was small and adorable in her old age. Her dark hair was sprinkled with white streaks, and her large, dark eyes were creased with laugh lines. The same lines were also wrinkled around her mouth, but they did not take away from the traditional beauty that she still held. Her cheeks were rounded and scattered with pink, and her skin was the color of milk. She was dressed in a fashionable black pantsuit and wore black pumps that boosted her height. 

“Good morning!” ___ bowed lowly with a sweet smile. Her eyes, large and slightly too round to truly be almond shaped, disappeared into crescents. With her face transformed so cutely by just a single smile, one would find it hard to believe that ___ had a mean, mean resting bitch face that, when combined with her not inconsiderable height, gave her a naturally intimidating demeanor.

Endeared, the woman bowed back. “Please, come in.” She invited, stepping aside and letting ___ and her suitcase drag in. 

***

She was still getting situated in the guest room when the door slowly creaked open.

Though she couldn’t see anything from where she was seated on the bed, the tell-tale pattern of claws clicking against the hardwood floor cued her in to who was entering— Mickey, a cute, little Shih-Tzu breed with floppy ears and a brown and white coloring. Despite the fact that he was male, Mickey had two tiny, powder-blue bows woven around his ears. His matching sweater creased slightly as he padded towards her.

“Hi, sweetie!” ___ cooed, reaching down to give him a gentle pat on the head, “Are you looking for some company now that Grandma isn’t in?” 

Mickey had been (surprisingly) very calm upon his introduction towards ___. He barely reacted (outside of a few weak wags of his fluffy tail) to her squealings of how cute he was. Perhaps it was behavior that he was used to.

He settled down onto the carpet next to her bed, the ideal spot for her to reach down and pet him if she wanted to. It was a good move on his part, because that was exactly what she wanted to do. 

___ was a huge dog lover— in fact, she just loved cute, fluffy animals in general. Cats, llamas, sheep— you name it. She tolerated reptiles, and if she had to handle insects, it was usually with gloves and a healthy bit of distance. 

The moral of the story is that she adored fur-babies, and until Mickey’s owner came to pick him up or his Grandma came back home, Mickey was her dog.

a/n: Thank you all for reading the first chapter! I really hope you liked it. The fun stuff starts next chapter, so please stay tuned! I have so much planned *evil laughter*

[statticscribbles]

Soul

Summary: Kurtz/Reader, Soulmate AU, you gain the injuries of your soulmate and can hear their voice when they sing

You’re watching unimpressed as Malachai throws you a plastic bag filled with clothes.

“Come on, we have to get to school in ten. Your bag is in the car and-Christ you get the bad send-off?” He watches as you move jerkily, deep purple smudging under your eyes, bruises on your wrists and your shoulders.

“You ever been slammed into a brick wall twice over, after getting used as a fucking punching bag, strung up on a hook and everything?” He swallows any comment, opening the bag and handing you your clothes, you tug the crop top on and the flannel over it, before he snorts gesturing to the faint handprints he can see against your hips as you tug the shorts up.

“Aww poor thing, are you sore?” He laughs.

“You owe me so many shakes from that place you brought me lunch from.”

“Pop’s. How hard is it to remember that name?” he rolls his eyes pointing to the back to show you where your bag is, you slide in next to it and buckle your seatbelt.

“Riverdale High, by the way. Southside got shut down while you were in the slammer.” You nod shouldering your bag as Lance starts explaining most of the students.

“Archie and his friends are the goody two shoes group, well besides Jughead, and his gang, although they’re much less violent then the Ghouls.They have some members to watch out for, Sweet Pea, Fangs, oh and Kurtz, although he’s not really a snake. And then Cheryl and Toni with the pretty poisons or whatever game they’re playing.” You nod letting him continue to explain how a few of them had found their soulmates. He continues to talk and fill you in more about the gangs and the tentative truce he’s formed with the Serpents. He parks two blocks away and you give him a two finger salute.

“Thanks for the lift, now I have to go meet Betty Cooper for my tour? The blonde one that’s with Lodge right?” You look to him for confirmation and he nods.

“Glad to see you were paying attention, do you have other clothes? You’ll get dress-coded in that.”

“You didn’t bring me anything else.” You hiss at him as you cross the street moving towards the school.

You’re letting Betty pull you around you can feel eyes everywhere and you wonder if it’s from the bruises peeking out or the clothes. Maybe it's simply because you’re the shiny new student, everyone unsure how you’ll act.

“Not now I’m giving a tour.” Betty breezes by a redhead boy, Archie, your brain supplies. You watch as Betty’s eyes falter at Veronica a blush rising as you spot the identical hickeys on their necks.

“People open about soul mates here?”

“Most are, everyone wants to find their one, ya know?” You nod pretending the anxiety in your chest is from the new school not the dread of someone rejecting you. She prattles on carefully explaining your schedule and is halfway through giving you dirt on your teachers when Cheryl walks up flanked by the rest of the River Vixens.

“You simply have to try out.” She smiles, eyes roaming down your outfit.

“You seem in shape enough, we can always use more trainee’s” You find yourself smiling up at her.

“I’d love to.” You swear you can hear Lance scream in the hallway. You laugh to yourself.

She beams and wanders off, you can see Ethel nervously talking to Chuck Clayton, he’s leering over her in a way that is making her uncomfortable, Betty smiles apologetically at you.

“Sorry let me just pop over and-“

“Hey, Ethel right?” You step forward waving to her slightly.

“We share history, I’m new, in case you couldn’t tell and I was wondering if you could lend me your notes Betty said you’d have no problem doing that and-“ You turn as if seeing Chuck for the first time.

“Oh hello, are you her soulmate?”

“No but I might be yours. Chuck Clayton.” Your eyes light up.

“Oh, Ethel would you excuse us for a second, Betty wanted to ask you something.” You wait till she’s safely out of the way; you can see the rest of the football team hovering you smirk, licking your lips.

“So since you’re new I’m guessing you haven’t heard about me and my-“ You grip his wrist, your nails cutting into the fleshy under part, digging them into his wrist as he jerks it back. You stumble back pretending to be shocked already feeling someone’s hand on your shoulder. Betty pulling you away from Chuck, who straightens up and glares at you.

“Of course you’re friends with Cooper; you should have seen-“

“Chuck, let me give you some semi-friendly advice, since I’m new, and you clearly haven’t heard of me, or where I’ve been for the past few months.” He arches an eyebrow and you can tell a small crowd is gathering.

“It doesn’t matter how well you think you’re hiding it, you hurt anyone who doesn’t deserve it; I will rip you apart.”

“Oh really you and-“ You snort as he goes quiet feeling Lance glaring from somewhere, just enough for only Chuck to see.

“You think Betty has darkness, I pity when you meet mine.” You laugh and he turns away from you as you return to Betty and Ethel’s side.

“You two okay? You look a little shocked?”

“We’ve never seen him retreat like that, that was incredible.” You smile and turn your head to your schedule when the bell rings.

By the time lunch rolls around the news of Chuck’s retreat had spread.

“Talk of the town you are, no clue what you did but he’s freaked.” Veronica nods to you and you sit on the edge of the couch watching everyone settle into their usual seats. You stare shocked at Kevin Keller.

“Yes?” He tilts his head as you look away smile on your lips.

“That scar on your eyebrow isn’t yours... I didn’t think I was ever going to meet you, pleasure’s all mine Preppy.” You laugh when his head whips up.

“You know Joaquin?”

“Yeah we used to bunk together, he’s an angel, amazing talker got me out of soooo much trouble in, where I used to go to school.”

“Oh you’re from the Southside?” Kevin asks, just as Cheryl returns with the Vixens.

“Who’s from the southside?” You cringe at Toni and Sweet Pea’s voices.

“This one here and-“

“Never seen them before in my life.” Toni states, Sweet Pea looks at you, his eyes widening as he pulls Toni and Fangs behind him.

“Someone we stay away from. All of us.” You raise an eyebrow at him. You can feel a hand on your shoulder and sigh.

“Yeah coming, what’s up?” You mumble as Lance moves you away and towards the outside area. You don’t look back at the group hearing other voices joining in on the confusion as you walk away. Lance slams you against the wall smirking.

“Good first day so far?”

“With you dragging me off during lunch, no, but for the most part it’s been manageable.”

“What was with threatening Chuck, he do something bad?”

“Well he’s basically the head male; gotta take him down before I do anything else. Duh.” You slide out from under his arms that cage you; you don’t flinch when he slams them back around you.

“No. You are not in that yard anymore that shit will have consequences, they’ll want you to prove that you’re dark.” You look unimpressed and nod.

“Yeah and? I can doesn’t mean I’m stupid enough to let them goad me into it. I’m not you.” You slip from under his arms, scowling as he catches your wrist tugging you back, you know someone sees with how they move slightly forward, black hair, potentially Reggie from the football team, one of the safe ones Lance had mentioned. You turn back twisting Lance’s own weight against him and pinning him against the wall, scraping his cheeks against the brick. You lean over your mouth against his ear.

“I am not your plaything, nor am I you. You want to try the usual shit, you’ll be getting my real response.” Lance coughs snarling as you walk towards the school once again.

You sit back next to Betty who frowns and looks to Jughead.

“Kurtz bailing on us again, said he got a lead to who his soulmate is and wants to find them soon.”

“Kurtz? He another Serpent?”

“No, our friend, his soulmate, well we all think they’re being abused, he gets bruises, cuts, and scars all the time, he’s really worried about them. He’s not exactly the friendliest but we still want to help his soulmate at least.”

“How can he hope to find them, like the world is pretty big?”

“He knows they’re here in Riverdale.”

“How?” You look confused and Josie, Archie’s soulmate beams.

“Me. My songs are pretty much only played around this area, he heard them singing once and knows they have to be around here. Hey Reg, what’s up?” Josie turns to smile at Reggie Mantle who walks up.

“You okay?” He nods to you and you turn smiling.

“Yeah I’m good thanks Reggie, I appreciate it.”

“You sure? Seemed like Lance has it out for you.”

“Lance was messing with you?” You watch the Serpent’s tense looking back to the voice that spoke.

“Hey Kurtz, guessing that lead was no good.” The boy nods as he sits next to Jughead.

“Yeah just like the others, now what is this about Lance causing havoc?”

“Chaos actually. It’s his thing, he likes to pretend he’s the new Malachai, mostly just a rip off to be honest.” Sweet Pea nods to Kurtz and you watch as he rubs his own wrist.

“You okay?” You can see a bruise peeking out from his collar, he nods shrugging.

“My soulmate, they get in a lot of fights.”

“Fights? You should probably have a word about that then.” You laugh a little and he scowls.

“Little hard when I can’t talk to them yeah.”

“You can sing right? Sing-ask.”

“Sing-ask?”

“Yeah like you don’t make up a song but you use an already existing song to form out a ‘letter’ of sorts, you can’t use it for places but its good for planning meet-ups. Where are you-“You look confused as Kurtz vanishes.

“He’s embarrassed of his singing voice.” You nod, frowning when you can hear your soulmate singing.

“You okay?” You tilt your head at Veronica as she asks.

“Yeah, my soulmate likes to sing on lunch break. It’s nice.”

“Do you do check in songs?”

“Oh yeah, I usually don’t get to sing much, my dad’s pretty strict.” You bite down the rule you want to spit up. Singing leads to identification; which leads to jail.

“Oh that’s so cute! Do you have specific songs for specific times of the day? Like Betty and I used to sing goodnight to each other.” Veronica places her hand over Betty’s who blushes.

“We have a couple, mainly just comfort songs, I think my soulmate deals with a lot. He's always sad.” You shrug listening to him start and cut off halfway through the song. You laugh a little.

“It seems like he wants to say something, but he’s failing I guess.” You laugh again closing your eyes and focusing on what he’s singing. You can’t help but smile laughing once again as the half song ends.

“What?” Betty and Kevin’s eyes spark.

“Apparently my soulmate wants to meet up, we’ve tried meeting up in the past but my dad found out and kept me home. He thinks I’m too young to find my soulmate; that I still need to mature and grow-up before we meet. I think he’s just scared about me dating.” You cover the truth, your father is scared, not of you dating, but of exposure, you know you can’t exactly bring your soulmate back to the house of the dead, back into the Ghoulies without him first being vetted.

“We can help you sneak out!! Just say you’re staying with me or Betty.” Archie nods excitedly and you smile.

“Alright, I’ll call him now.” You pull your phone out, calling your brother instead. You cringe when you can hear him outside the student lounge.

“Hey, uhh, can I stay over at a friends today? I have to work on a biology lab. Her name is-“

“Call him yourself.” He hangs up and you glare.

“Did he say no?”

“No, he said he was busy, I’ll call during Biology then.” You smile excitedly.

You’re working on the lab in Biology when you step into the lab closet after the teacher said you could call.

“Hey, I was just wondering if-“

“You wanna stay at a friends for the night right? Your brother called and told me. Fine. On one condition.”

“Of course.” You know well enough not to answer before hearing but the thought of meeting your soulmate has you willing to take whatever punishment he deems fit.

“I pick you up in the morning, now which house?” You suck in a breath.

“Let me get her address and-“

“Her name is all I need.”

“Betty Cooper.”

“Glad you’re making useful friends.” He drawls before he hands up, you retreat back to your seat shooting a thumbs up to Betty.

“He just said he wanted to pick me up in the morning.” Betty smiles.

“That won't be a problem we can just explain to your soulmate when you meet him.”

“We?”

“I’m not letting you go to meet your soulmate alone, what if they try to hurt you?” I can hurt them more. You smile at her.

“Thanks Betty.”

“Besides Veronica and I could use a date, where are we meeting?” You laugh a little as a chorus of Pop goes the weasel plays again as it had been for the past hour.

“Somewhere called Pop I think? Well Pop goes the weasel so.” You shrug and Betty laughs.

“Oh that’s clever, is there a time?”

-It’s a quarter after one I’m a little- Pop goes- It’s a quarter after one I’m a little- Pop goes-

“Quarter after one, no clue if its in the morning or not. Since tomorrow is Saturday.” Betty smiles.

“Well Pop’s it is, we can get a late night burger, hopefully he means one am.”

You’re trying not to fall asleep, Betty had insisted you both show up in your pyjama’s and you’d been thankful when she offered for you to change in the bathroom, you wipe the last smudges of the makeup from your neck hoping she wont comment on the lingering finger prints around your throat. She doesn’t as she pulls you to Pop’s mindful of your wrist. You try your best to bite down the tang of rejection, you know will bloom once your father picks you up tomorrow.

“So who’re we looking for?” You blink at her shrugging.

“Someone with this.” You tilt your neck up exposing the full handprint over your throat.

“O-Okay.” She chokes a little and you nod in understanding.

-You’re about to sit in a booth when a hand waves you both over.

“Kurtz, hey what’re you doing?”

“Following a lead, my soulmate kept singing Pop goes the weasel, either they were babysitting or were trying to respond to the message I left. Hey Veronica.” He nods as she walks up smiling.

“Betty I got us a booth so Y/N can wait for her soulmate, on her own.” She nods to Kurtz who arches an eyebrow.

“You’re waiting for your soulmate?” He leans forward slightly.

“Yeah, I’ve been listening to, it’s a quarter after one, I’m a little drunk and I need you now, on repeat for three hours, so I guess this was the appropriate time. God forbid my soulmate couldn’t just mean the afternoon.” Kurtz snorts.

“Your soulmate a night owl then?” You sit across from him shrugging.

“I’ve probably given him that impression of me. My dad’s super strict to say the least.”

“Strict is a funny way to say abusive, unless he didn’t give you that?” he tilts his head up towards your neck and you catch the hand print on his.

“Oh my god. Shit.” You shift in the seat looking nervously at him.

“What? Is it the Serpent thing?”

“My dad, oh my god.” You look up wide eyed once more.

“You’re the like gargoyle gang guy…...” He reaches out hand brushing yours.

“You don’t have a problem with that.”

“My dad, fucking- I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.” You squeeze your eyes shut and can feel him slide over to your side of the booth, his arm wrapping around you.

“Hey come on, your dad won’t know I’m into gargoyles, it’ll be fine.”

“He adopted me when I was five.” You blurt out, and Kurtz smiles.

“See you’re not even related to him, you’ll be fine I promise.” He offers a crooked smile.

“My brother, well adopted brother, Lance. We grew up at the sister’s of quiet mercy, we-“ You cut yourself off shaking your head and curling into his side sighing.

“This is nice.” You let yourself stay curled in his arms trying your best not to think of the scars your father left marking you and Lance as his.

Support My Writing?

[katiebruce]

adios, amigo.

Well, 2020. What is there to say that hasn’t already been said, tweeted or Instagram-ed a thousand and two times about you? I’ll save us all the generic stuff—“unprecedented,” “nightmarish,” “absurd”—yes, 2020 was all of those things, but on a deeper, more personal level, there is so much more I have to say that doesn’t fit quite into those clichés.

So, this will be my attempt to document and reflect upon one of the strangest years I’ve encountered in my thirty-one years on this planet. Buckle up, buttercup.

Like many others before me have frequently observed, the way I spend my New Year’s Eve has always set the tone for the year to come, and boy, was this year a picture-perfect example of exactly that. Because I had to work on January first, I spent my New Year’s Eve at home watching a depressing movie with T, quietly kissing on the cold back patio as fireworks went off in the distance. I remember feeling both happy and sad about this evening (a duality that was a major theme for me for the fifty-two weeks to come, if only I had known). I was sad not to be celebrating my favorite holiday and even remember telling T that I didn’t want the year to come to be one I spent not going out, staying home, and becoming reclusive as I finished up the stressful process of finishing my MFA thesis in the course of ten (or, what I thought would be ten) short months.

But on the other hand, being held in T’s arms, I remembered feeling so happy that I could have this little quiet holiday—something that felt so private and personal—so entirely our own. It really set the tone for our relationship for the year, and for the obstacles we not only overcame together but dominated, one right after the next.

January was cold, snowy, and full of flight cancellations, which I remember to be something worth celebration at the time. I stayed home and snuggled my way into Aquarius season, the time for me and my brethren to shine, feeling positive that I had lived my thirtieth year to one of great satisfaction and maximum travels taken. (If only I had known then that that late-January El Paso layover where my crew and I walked across the border into Juarez to eat street tacos and laugh over Mezcal would be one of the only times I would leave the country for the year, well, I might have taken a few shots of tequila and really enjoyed my stay abroad just a bit longer).

February came, and with it, the promise of friends. My darling Kristopher, as always, flew to Chicago on the day of (also the day I completed and passed my eighth recurrent [!]) and, thanks to my other darling baby, Nicole, scored tickets to one of the highly coveted format reunion tour shows happening in March* for me, her, and my momma.

(*It did not, in fact, take place in March).

I turned thirty-one in the way I’ve come accustomed too—surrounded by my favorite people (this year at Dorians—a jazz club to end all jazz clubs) too drunk and too smiley to even coherently remember the evening properly. As much fun as I remember having, I told T that I thought it was my last year to host some sort of birthday gathering, and to hold me to it come next year. (He did very well—a few weeks later, after spotting an ad in a discarded newspaper for the Chicago tour of Moulin Rouge happening on my birthday weekend, we bought tickets and I sat peacefully with the fact that one of my new year (or, new age) resolutions was so quickly and poignantly adapted).

By this time, I was already deep in the throes of my first thesis writing course, meaning that I was pretty stressed out all of the time and surely a misery to be around (sorry to those of you who were). Basically, in three semesters’ time, I was expected to draft, edit, and rewrite a fully formed novel (70,000+ words) and the idea of accomplishing such a feat felt like a ton of bricks being carried on my shoulders. I had at least four mental breakdowns in the beginning of the year (again, we all know what lays ahead for the year, I know—but at the time, this seemed like an unbearable amount of stress for one person to have to carry. The joke is not lost on me).

In the coming weeks, things began to get even weirder. Covid scares began sprouting up in cities all around us, and as the government asked people to stay at home, airline ticket prices became massively reduced, so more people began traveling. I mean, this shit was like spring break on acid—it was hugely stressful, and though the threat of the pandemic had yet to reach Chicago, I felt more and more at risk with each passing day as careless amounts of people cashed in on what they thought was the deal of a lifetime.

By the time March reached its midpoint, I, like so many others, was terrified. We had no PPE at work—literally nothing. No gloves, masks, or even hand wipes. Cleaning the aircraft still wasn’t considered a “no-go” item, as far as regulatory practices go. I remember watching the news on my layovers only to keep myself up at night wondering if the virus was going to take hold of me or anyone around me, and if so, how long until they would recover, or perhaps wouldn’t.

St. Patrick’s Day came, and after fighting about whether or not to go out with friends (we didn’t—and for the record, T and I rarely fight—but this was, after all, his first St. Patrick’s Day as a Chicagoan—so his resentment was more than justified) we saw a matinee movie (Onward) and while in the theater, read about how Chicago restaurants, as a precaution, were shutting down the next day due to rising concerns about the spread of the virus. We reacted by grabbing drinks & lunch at one of our favorite neighborhood eateries and tipping the waitstaff more heavily than I think I’ve ever tipped anyone in my life (not mentioning this to brag, or whatever—just remembering what it was like to feel utterly helpless and unsure of what to do or what was to come—we had to find our positivity in some way, and on that day, this was how we saw fit, and it helped).

Then it all sort of happened at once—Lauren’s store was closed with no impending reopening date. The grocery stores (and I swear to god, I will never forget this) became a madhouse—people taking things out of other people’s carts when they weren’t looking. I remember going into Mariano’s with T and insisiting we tie bandanas around our faces for safety, feeling like a goddamn bank robber about to make a heist. But there was nothing left to even take. Frantically, we got what we could and got out of there, and I went home to have a full-fledged panic attack about the state of the world we were currently living in and what we were going to do if things didn’t turn around quickly.

As if overnight, everyone cancelled their airline tickets. It was for the better, and though it put my job in serious jeopardy, I was in massive support of it but still felt an eerie sadness looming around the countless empty airports, airplanes, hotels and city streets. There were times when my crew and I were the only guests in a place—times when I had zero passengers on a revenue flight. And then came the mass flight cancellations—and I mean mass. Everyday became a battle of anxiety as to what was going to happen to my job in the next twenty-four hours, and then cooing my stressed-out thoughts to sleep, only to relive the anxiety with every phone buzz waiting to find out if I had lost my job overnight. By mid-spring, I was hugely considering dropping out for a period of time, just due to the stress of it all, but thanks to support from my friends, family and T, I chose to stick it out and roll with as many punches as I could until I was finally knocked-out.

Quarantines were happening all around me, and without the ability to travel or the (former) grueling expectations of maintaining a social life, I started to reconnect with myself in ways that felt both organic and new, yet much like returning home after a long time away. Lauren taught me to knit, and we celebrated her birthday on the floor of our apartment in an Indian-food induced daze renting Emma and making thousands of tiny knots onto needles that would eventually become blankets. We took walks, did puzzles, and Lauren drove me to and from the airport on the rare occasion that I actually had a flight to work, as the CTA had, unfortunately, become a cesspool of targeted attacks on flight crew members (seriously) because they were often the only person in any given train car.

A rare glimpse of optimism then presented itself via two different opportunities: a chance to take a ninety-day leave from work, and a job offer in the form of editing a book for publication. I said yes to both and hoped that I would be able to take a step back and deal with the crumbling world around me easier with both of these opportunities now on my horizon.

This period of the year (May-July) started off swimmingly. Knitting, reading, and even smoking weed for the first time in nearly a decade (I took two hits and spent the rest of the evening sinking into the couch painfully aware of how bad I am at breathing and worrying that I might stop at any given moment). I fell in love with yoga and felt myself loosening up parts of my body and my mind that had been twisted into a series of knots for god only knows how long. I spent days reading in the sun, baking bread like everyone else in the world, and learning to make my own pies. Things were going really well, and I was even ahead in school, now on track to graduate in August—when things started getting heated.

I’m not going to go on a rant about race, although I very much could, but I will say this—the fact that we are still in a race war in this country in the year 2020 (and even now, a few days into 2021) makes me so sick to my stomach I don’t know what to do. Every injustice that passes by us, overshadowed by the next untimely death or wrongdoing makes me angry in ways that I cannot even fathom putting into words. It burns the color red that is so hot and so vibrant that I can see it soaking through my eyelids even when I squeeze them shut. This country lost a lot of love from me this year, and even more respect. There are not only things we can do better—there are things we must change. And honestly, most days, I don’t think most of the country is ready to not only admit that but to also work for. And that not only sickens me, but depresses the living hell out of me. I feel so stunted all of the time when I picture a world so at peace with its own injustice. It’s just so unfair.

I watched as the world was (rightfully, although woefully) destroyed around me. My neighborhood turned into a desolate, looted shadow of itself—one where Lauren and I could sit on our back patio safely until dusk, when the crime and gunfire became so rabid that on occasions, we sat in the living room in total darkness, listening only to the radio, afraid to let anybody at street level see that we were, indeed, at home. The opportunists that took advantage of the message of this movement made me numb to such a large demographic of the population, and I found myself crying myself to sleep enough times that I thought it might be time to leave the warzone that had become Chicago for a little while as escape down to Florida. So, we packed our bags and left. It is not lost on me that so many did not have this option, and for so many minorities, just simply existing during this time was enough to cause assault. I know I am fortunate—I carry it like lead in my pockets every day.

While in Florida, the first retailers began to reopen and I found myself waiting in an hour-long line to buy soaps and hand sanitizers, and to get a glimpse of what this “new normal” might look like when things started picking back up again. Like many, it was jarring to see empty tables, capacity limits on items, cashiers behind plexiglass sheets shouting to be heard over both the physical barrier and the cloth one strung across their faces.

By the time T & I arrived home, Lauren was already making plans to reopen her store “safely” and I felt sorry for her. How could anything be safe when nothing had changed? Why were companies acting as if business could go on like before—even though nothing had gotten better?

My final months of my MFA were just ahead of me, and I had one month remaining free from work to finish my first full-length novel, and I all I really remember is stress stress stress.

And then Andrew, being Andrew, offered a glimmer of hope, in the form of a drive-in concert celebrating fifteen years of Everything in Transit in southern California, a mere matter of hours from where Nicole had been working. It took a matter of two or maybe three text messages to confirm that we would be attending, and once the ticket was purchased I practically packed my bags and headed off to visit her and try and make light of my heart.

As suspected, the trip was magical. Being around Nicole, per usual, was magical. My heart felt so fully aligned seeing a little piece of her story and getting to experience her way of life once more—drunken hot springs and all their glory. There truly are few things in my life I love more than sitting in the passenger’s seat as Nicole drives us all over the country, and experiencing it again felt so right and so perfect that I honestly thought it was one of the happiest experiences of my life. Because I had requested so, she drove me all the way to Venice Beach the day of the concert so we could see where the infamous album cover was taken. We ate cbd gummies and listened to jack’s and ate in-n-out burger like our lives depended on it. When the concert began, it was eerie, yet hopeful to see all the new protocols of something that had become so familiar to me in my former life. Drinks were ordered through an app and delivered, as was merch, and clapping was replaced by the exuberant honking of car horns. We streamed the sound through the radio and laid the in the back of Nicole’s converted SUV as we cried and sang along to the songs that made everything, even just for one night, feel like it was all going to be okay again. We ended the evening marking ourselves with our first stick and poke tattoos—hers a sun to my moon, positioned to kiss one another when we stand next to each other on our preferred selfie side (lol). I left worried about how long it might be before I could feel her warm embrace again, the embrace of one of the truest friends I’ll ever know, but also recognizing that we were lucky to have had such an experience at all during such an insane year and feeling eternally grateful for its memory.

The last weeks of what I referred to as my Rumspringa were ahead of me, and one sunny afternoon I wrote the final pages of my novel. In a mad rush to edit, revise and complete my portfolio for official review, I never really sat with myself and what I had accomplished or congratulated myself; I wrote a book in seven months’ time, and even though I am unhappy with it (more on that later) there’s no denying that I actually did it. I did it, and nobody can ever take that away from me; it’s an accomplishment I will forever have, and it’s all my own. And I need to remind myself of that. I need to let myself feel proud.

I was back to work in September and taking a huge pay cut, though working the same hours. It was stressful, but once I found out my portfolio had been accepted and I, indeed, would be receiving my MFA I felt a bit at peace for a while. I had let my hair grow long all summer, and all but stopped wearing make-up (mascara makes me feel entirely dolled up now). I felt in an odd way free—almost bare.

The fall came and went fairly quickly—the weekends alone at home and grocery-store-only outings feeling more and more like normalcy. It had been such a tough, trying year, that it suddenly felt nice to just stand still for a bit. So, I did.

In a brief amount of time, I watched (safely) as friends got married, got sick, got older and fell in love. I watched, with great anxiety, as our country voted in the most important election of our lives so far and took the deepest breath I’d ever taken as I watched that man face defeat—although he’s yet to swallow it. I watched as ex-lovers had babies, got engaged and never really stopped to think twice about any of it. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: the safety (and not in a lame, “safety-net” sort of way) of having T in my life has turned me into someone who not only craves quiet time at home, but really also sort of fell right damn into it very easily, though unexpectedly. I’ve heard the saying so many times before, but you really don’t realize everything is different once you find the right fit because that place feels like it’s always been home. I am grateful to not only have that now and moving forward, but most certainly throughout the trying, unstable times of 2020. In fact, I don’t know how I would have survived without it.

The holidays always creep up on me, and after being dealt a shitty hand from work (don’t even get me started, I’m still fuming) they came that much quicker. T & I were lucky enough to spend the holidays back home in the swamp, visiting my parents and his Dad. The time went by fast but was relaxing, fun, and reenergizing. We spent New Year’s Eve playing giant Jenga and yard Yahtzee with my parents in the cool, tropical winter of Florida. It was nice. We got tired right around 11, so we laid in bed until midnight talking, staying awake just long enough to share our new year’s kiss. It felt right—a proper send off to such a strange and unusual year. I was exctly where I needed to be—wrapped up in a blanket of T’s embrace, comfy in a bed in my childhood bedroom.

So now, here it is: 2021—the supposed upgrade to 2020, or so everybody secretly hopes. So now, as I sit here, drinking a warm, soy-chai latte (homemade!) I find myself having great difficulty setting an intention for the days ahead of me. I feel so beaten and bruised and physically fatigued for no reason but the experiences of 2020 and the courses they ran all over my life. I’m feeling reflective of having finished yet another year of my life (and my Saturn return! Halleluj!) and finding it hard to be anything but fatigued. I guess it’s from the year that’s just finished—more so than any other year it physically pained me at times to be alive at times. I’m missing so many of my friends who I haven’t been able to see for extended months at a time now. I am craving a sense of normalcy, of safety, so that I can feel better about making plans, but as for right now I just don’t have it. I am quietly trying to make subtle changes within myself and how I react to the world around me, but just like the start of this new year, that process is a slow one.

One of my resolutions (though I’m growing to hate that word more and more with each passing year) is to get back to writing. I had a good, albeit stressful, thing going while still in school, and after finishing my novel and receiving feedback, I couldn’t shake the feeling of absolute failure. It’s still there—it’s really hard to try and celebrate an accomplishment when you don’t feel like your work was good enough to warrant anything at all—especially not a fine arts degree. I never said I was a fiction writer—I just wanted to get better at writing fiction—so I need to remember that and allow myself to veer away from that for a while, to work on something new. Something I’ve been saying I’m not ready to write for many years now, something that when I now say that is just a plain old lie: My memoir. I’m ready to close the chapter in my life where I am a flight attendant, so the timing feels more than perfect.

I learned so much about what I want to do within my career and what sort of boundaries I don’t want to place on myself—and I’m trying, I really am. T gifted me with my own pottery wheel for Christmas and we are going to set it up this weekend and I am so excited to get my hands muddy and start creating. Until this year, I didn’t realize how much I needed a creative outlet other than writing—I had been depending on it for too long, my little cup felt bone dry. So, I’m excited to see where this new hobby takes me and how it influences my ability to return to the blank page—quite literally.

I know this year will not be the quick fix that so many are hopeful for—I think quite the opposite, actually. But here are some things I know for sure will happen: I will move out of my apartment and in with T. We will then, immediately get a dog and a new apartment. This, alone, feels like enough to fill the pages of the blank year ahead of us. I will go long periods of time without seeing my loved ones, and without traveling (bleak as this lifestyle may be). I will write, even when it’s hard to. I will publish something—I’m at work submitting pieces as we speak, and though the process is slow, I can tell this is my opportunity—I am ready t fight for it. I will turn 32, and the numerology of my life will seem more aligned. I will spend my birthday at home, alone, because of course Moulin Rouge has now been cancelled (I’m fine with it). I will learn more about myself the more I use my hands to create, to plant, to sculpt, to mold. I will love with fervor. I will smile more, because it’s actually healthier for you, even though my black heart hates to admit it. If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll get to attend a live concert, though I realize this might be wishful thinking at this point. I will do mushrooms and giggle with the colors. I will cry. I will hurt and I will cause harm. But through it all, I will persevere. Because if 2020 taught me anything, it’s that I am capable of regenerating into new versions of myself that I didn’t even have the time to dream up. I can adapt to whatever is thrown at me, though it will often times feel impossible. I can, and will, create. I can be reborn (as many times as I’d like to, too).

So, thanks, 2020, for teaching me more about myself than any other period of five years has ever taught me. I definitely feel like I’ve been through the ringer a couple of times, yet I find myself still standing day after day. It must be the way a domino feels, standing up, time after time, knowing that something right in front of you is about to knock you down. But instead of thinking about what I’m bringing down with me, I’m thinking of the entire collective as a whole—we are all experiencing this together. And maybe, just maybe, on the other side, there’s a kid with a smile waiting to do it all over again. And that’s perhaps where the beauty lays: we have to tear everything down in order to do better, be better, make change. Nobody likes to catch fire, but everyone loves rising from the ashes. We’ll all get to where we’re headed, one way or another. And eventually, I hope, we’ll see that the other side is better than we could have ever dreamt of.

I hope that 2021 is a bridge that brings us from destruction to creation. I hope the journey is long, so we all appreciate the outcome.

I love you all and wish you warmth and wellness into this year and beyond.

Happy new year—honor the circumstances you have around you and let them help you grow.

[sapphicwhump]

Behind Bars

This piece is somewhat personal to me, as it deals with my own fears and thoughts on real-life political events. I wrote it over a year ago and have improved since then, so it may not be the finest example of my writing.

Fandoms: Original Work Tropes: implied prison whump, trans woman whumpee, trauma recovery, whumpee x caretaker fluff, parallels to real-life politics TWs: implied transphobia, referenced solitary confinement, potential to be read as implied noncon

        “Hello, this is Aveline Henry.”

        “Hey, Avi!”

        Even though the phone’s aged speaker and poor reception, she’d never fail to recognize the voice on the other end. “Oh my god, Tia!?”

        “Yup! How you been, girl?”

        She stands up from her seat on the couch and begins to pace the living room of her small apartment, her heart fluttering with delight and anxiety alike. This is a voice she hasn’t heard in over a year, and one she had never expected to hear again. “Good! Really great, actually. Uh, are you calling me from the prison?”

        “Yeah; where else would I be? This call is costing me a fuckload, so I’ve gotta make this quick. Tell me about your life! How’s the outside world treating ya?”

        Aveline is still slightly too surprised to be functioning at full capacity. It’s difficult to wrap her head around the fact that it really is Tia talking to her from the other end of the line. “Things have been pretty crazy for me. Very busy. A lot of it has been rough, but things are getting better every day.”

        “Mm, I wanna hear about all of it.”

        Aveline takes a moment to look back over the last year of her life. It’s been her most hectic one by far, largely because the preceding year had been her worst one by far. There’s so much to fill Tia in on; what should she even mention first?

        She elects to start with something big and relatively simple. “Probably the most major thing is that I finally got surgery…”

        “Oooh! Good for you!” Tia’s tone jumps up in delight. Aveline doesn’t need to specify which surgery; there’s only one that could be relevant to their formerly shared life. “Now if you decide to throw another molotov at a cop car, they won’t throw you in here with me again.”

        “How many times do I have to tell you, it was a brick, not a molotov!” The two women share a fit of laughter. “But yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

        She pauses for a moment, savoring the familiarity of Tia’s warm chuckle. “Also, I’m legally Aveline now. My birth certificate has an F on it.”

        The chuckling comes right back. “Well with that plus the surgery, maybe you should fuck up another cop car. I hear a lotta gay shit goes on on the other side.”

        “That is the worst idea I’ve heard in a long time.” Aveline lets out an amused exhale. “Plus, I wouldn’t want to cheat on my girlfriend.”

        “Oh, you found a girl! Nice! How’s it working out between you?”

        “Mostly good. I really never thought I’d find someone who would be cool with who I am, but she approached me nonetheless. We’ve been together for about six months now. She’s been helping me recover from the surgery. We’ve run into a few relationship problems due to, umm… mental health stuff, but she’s really good about everything.”

        “Oh, yeah…” Aveline’s skin crawls as she can practically feel Tia recalling something unpleasant. “How are you coping with that stuff?”

        She gnaws on her lower lip before proceeding. “A lot better, actually. I started seeing a therapist, which was… definitely very needed. I still get nightmares, but they don’t freak me out as much as they used to.”

        “Yeah, those were always a bitch to deal with when you’d wake me up with them. Good to hear that you’re getting better.” Tia’s voice falls a bit lower, but remains warmly comforting.

        “Speaking of which… I’m also filing a lawsuit against the prison for, uhh…” Her stomach swells with nausea as she tries to form the words. “...You know. They knew what would happen, and didn’t do anything.”

        Tia hums in understanding. “Well, they did move you in with me.”

        “Yeah, but it wasn’t nearly enough.” she frowns. “Either way, I doubt the case is gonna get very far. And even if it does, the whole… issue is a lot larger than just a few rotten prison officials. There won’t be justice until stuff like this can’t ever happen again.”

        Tia seems to have been thinking the same thing. “Mm, yeah. Well at least now they can’t hassle you for threatening legal action against their negligence.”

        As nice as it is to talk to Tia again, these are things that Aveline would prefer not to revisit. She wants to tell her old friend all about how she’s spent the last year turning her life around, not dwell on where she’s been.

        “Oh! That reminds me, on the subject of more systemic change, I’ve gotten really into activism now. A few human rights watches have asked for interviews, and an advocacy group recently hosted me as a speaker at one of their events, so I could talk to an audience about everything that happened. It was a super moving experience; I nearly broke down crying on stage.”

        “Oh, that’s really cool. You were always worse about holding your tears than me.”

        “Heh, yeah.”

        “You tell them about me?” Tia’s tone sounds amused, but the question still spikes Aveline’s anxiety.

        “...Yeah, but I omit your name. Uh, don’t worry; you’re still anonymous.”

        “Eh, I’m not worried about that; just curious if I’m a part in your stories.”

        Aveline is somewhat surprised at her friend’s uncertainty. To her, it’s not even a question. “Of course you are! You were the one thing that made my life even slightly tolerable for that year. You have way more experiences in there than I do; there’s no way I could justify not talking about you.”

        “Ah, alright.” Aveline can hear the contented smile on Tia’s lips coming out through her voice.

        If Tia and Aveline are catching up on each others’ lives, then that means Aveline should probably also ask some questions of her own. Her friend’s situation doesn’t seem to have changed much since they last saw each other, and worry grips her gut as she asks her next question.

        “You’ve asked a lot about me, but how have you been holding together?”

        There’s a pause that’s just a bit too long for Aveline’s comfort. “Same as usual, I suppose. Just trying to stay outta trouble.”

        Aveline grips her phone tighter. She knows what Tia’s “usual” is, and what hers used to be. Even for as long as she’s known Tia, she’s never been able to accept the normalization of it all. It’s one of the few issues that they had parted ways with a disagreement on.

        “No noteworthy incidents?”

.         ”Eh… I did another stint in solitary.”

        Aveline stops dead in her tracks where she’s pacing, her stomach abruptly falling into her feet. The drop in blood pressure is rapid enough to put black spots in her vision. “Oh my god, Tia… Holy shit are you okay?”

        Tia immediately realizes that bringing up solitary confinement around Aveline was definitely the wrong move. She quickly forces her tone into something more aloof. “Hey, relax... I’m fine. It was only for a few days. Nothing bad happened.”

        Nothing like what happened to you, Tia doesn’t add, but Aveline still knows it’s being said.

        “Alright.” Her jaw chenches, holding in her protests. Getting put in solitary in the first place is already something bad happening.

        Tia decides that now is a good time to veer the conversation away from herself. Aveline knows it’s a deflection, but she doesn't object. “So what are current events like in the outside world? I can’t usually afford internet time, so it can be kinda easy to miss it if the world is ending or something.”

        “Honestly, nothing that you wouldn’t be able to get from the radio or cable news. The presidential campaigns are heating up, although it’s still gonna be a corporate neolib either way; no hope for any real change. The protests are still going on, but I think they’re starting to fade out of public awareness again. It’s unfortunate; I would have liked to do more, but I’m too scared now.”

        “Yeah, that’s totally understandable. Don’t be too hard on yourself over it, okay?”

        Aveline groans internally. Tia knows her too well, but regardless, she’ll be as self-destructive as she pleases. “But that’s their suppression tactic, isn’t it? The cruelty is the fucking point. I haven’t gone to a single protest since the one where I threw that brick. I’m so terrified of going back that I haven’t been helping the cause. I never thought I’d be so weak that their bullshit would work on me.”

        Tia sounds annoyed, although she’d never get truly upset with Aveline. “Avi, don’t give me that shit. You were an activist before, and you’re even more of an activist now. Torture radicalizes, not pacifies, and from what I’m hearing, you’re a great example of that yourself.”

        “Mm... alright.”

        Tia isn’t finished yet. “And don’t let anyone ever tell you you’re weak for what you’ve been through. That includes yourself. Take it from someone who’s been in and out of the system for years: you’re amazingly strong to turn your life around after this.”

        Aveline is wise enough to know when she’s been beaten. “Yeah… I know you’re right. But still, it’s just… It’s really fucking difficult to feel like I somehow won after all of this, you know? I broke a car window, and for that I fucking got... “

        She stops before she gets choked up. She can’t even say it. She doesn’t need to; Tia was there for it all. “My human rights are worth less to this shithole country than a fucking sheet of glass.”

        Tia’s tone drops. “Now that you have a therapist, you better be talking to them about that stuff.”

        Aveline exhales heavily, feeling slightly more composed afterwards. “Yeah, I am. Sorry; I know I’ve given you this whole spiel before, but like… Of all the things that have stuck with me from that year, all the ways it fucked me up, that’s the biggest thing I took away from it. Just how fucking worthless we are to them.”

        “Aw, we’re not worthless! We make the prison-industrial complex billions every year for being locked up.”

        Aveline can’t laugh at that joke. Tia’s pitch-black humor is just as bitter to her ears as it’s always been, but hearing it again after so long brings her an odd, unexpected satisfaction. Under its bite, there’s a certain well-meaning warmth to it that she’s missed this past year.

        Tia sees Aveline’s lack of a response as a perfect opportunity to excuse herself. “Well, it’s great to hear from you again. I’m really running up the cost on this call, so I gotta go now.”

        That sparks an idea in Aveline’s mind. “I’ll send you some money! I know my parents sent me money for the commissary and phone calls while I was in. It’ll be way more than whatever you’re making from work or trading.”

        “Wait, you serious?”

        “Yeah! Of course!”

        “That’s… wow. Thank you.” There are only a few times she’s ever heard Tia be genuinely moved, and this is one of them. It takes Aveline a moment to realize that in Tia’s many years of imprisonment, she’ll be the first person to ever send her money.

        “No problem. It won’t be too financially stressful for me to make regular payments. Just call again soon, alright?”

        “Yeah, sure.”

        “Alright then—”

        Tia interrupts her before she can hang up. “Wait, before you go, Avi… Just remember how lucky you are. I know how much it sucked for you, but that year you were in with me was definitely the best year I’ve spent behind bars. It’s really, really great to hear that you’re doing better on the outside.”

        She has to blink away tiny tears from the corners of her eyes. “Yeah. I’ve got a pretty immense gratitude for you as well. I hope you have a comfortable rest of your sentence, for what it’s worth.”

        “Heh, thanks. Those payments will certainly help with that.” For a moment, she chuckles again, before her tone suddenly falls to something almost mournful. “Y’know, I’ll be an old woman by the time I get out, but you still got a full life to live. Make the most of it, okay?”

        Aveline closes her eyes and smiles through a small sigh.

        “Okay, Tia.”