#Would put on loop again if it came on shuffle sort of deal

[undyinglantern]

yt comparison

tombi and nisekao really defined this year for me

surprised top 2 songs weren’t the other way around and somehow ra remains my top artist despite everything

[storiesforallfandoms]

my lady ~ geralt of rivia

word count: 1615

request?: yes!

“hello, could you write something where geralt gets really jealous because someone (jaskier or a random) flirts with the reader and he shows her who she belongs to? rough smut please!”

description: while travelling with a group to slay a monster, a pretentious king to be tries to flirt with geralt’s lady, leading to the witcher becoming very jealous

pairing: geralt of rivia x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut

masterlist

You loved to travel with Geralt. You liked to see him in action, slaying monsters, but you also loved to be there to help him relax after a long day of fighting. After the ballad written by the exhausting Bard that had latched himself on to Geralt, many started coming to the Witcher to ask for help with finding and slaying monsters. This led to you, Geralt, and Jaskier becoming part of a group travelling to find some sort of monster that had been terrorizing kingdom after kingdom for nearly a whole year.

The king that was leading the team, a young man who had recently been put into the power, was determined to find this monster and to kill it himself. Apparently doing so would result in a great reputation for him. But his men insisted on looking to Geralt for help, which was definitely a much better idea than to wander aimlessly looking for a creature that they didn’t even know what it was.

Despite the constant urging of the king to keep going, the group decided to stop for the night to get some rest. They set up their tents and a small fire while one of the king’s men went to find some meat to roast over the fire. Geralt was sat next to you, his golden eyes glaring at the egocentric king.

“He’s going to get himself killed,” Geralt muttered. “Him and his men. What kind of reputation will he have then?”

“The one he deserves,” you responded. “The best we can hope for is he puts up some kind of fight instead of dying like a pussy.”

This brought a slight smile to Geralt’s face. “You could kill a monster twice his size quicker and easier than he could. He’d probably shit himself and run away before being eaten.”

You giggled. “I don’t think a monster would want a feast that tastes like shit. Probably would just rip him to shreds and leave his remains for his men to find. That would be a legacy for him.”

Geralt actually laughed at this, which caused you to laugh as well. Your laughter was noticed by the king, and the moment you both realized he had saw you, you quickly stopped.

“What are you two laughing about?” he demanded.

“Just reminiscing on old tales we’ve been told,” Geralt responded. “Have you ever heard of the one about the king who didn’t know how to fight?”

“Geralt,” you warned softly.

The king and Geralt held a prolonged staring contest as the king lowered himself to sit across from the two of you in front of the fire.

“I have not,” he responded. “What is so funny about that? A king should know how to fight.”

“Well, that is the thing,” Geralt explained. “This king claimed that he knew how to fight, and was willing to prove it however he could. He fought many a knight and always won, but he didn’t take that as a real victory. He was sure that they were throwing the fights as not to upset him. He said he wanted a real challenge, so he and some of his men went into the woods looking for the fiercest, most dangerous monster they could find.”

The king was on the edge of his feet, engrossed in Geralt’s fake story. You had to hold back a giggle at the anticipation on his face.

“Did they find one?” the king asked. “What happened? Did the king slay the beast?”

“No,” Geralt responded, plainly. “They found the monstrous beast, but the king insisted on fighting it alone. Hours later, his men realized he still had not returned, so they went looking for him. All they found were his remains, which smelled like shit.”

You buried your head in Geralt’s shoulder to muffle your laughter. Geralt smirked at the king, who looked shocked at the ending of the story.

“I don’t think that’s a very funny story,” he huffed. “Quite morbid actually.”

“It is what men like him deserve,” Geralt told him. “A man should not boast about things he is unable to do, and certainly should not drag his men into battles that they will surely lose.”

The king was now glaring at Geralt. You were sure he was starting to realize that Geralt’s story had been a joke in his expense all along, and you weren’t sure how the king would react upon realizing this.

His eyes drifted to you. You shuffled uncomfortably, looping one arm through Geralt’s and holding him tightly.

“You are quite beautiful, my lady,” he said. His voice was more calm than you expected, and you weren’t sure if that scared you more or not.

You gave him a small smile and softly responded, “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“It is such a shame that your beauty is wasted on a man like the Witcher here.”

Geralt tensed against you. You squeezed his arm again, trying to calm him down. You refused to meet the king’s eye as he stood and approached the two of you.

“I do mean it, my lady,” he said as he lowered himself to be level with you. You looked down at the ground to avoid his gaze. “Ever since I laid my eyes on you, I have been infatuated with your beauty. I have never met a woman quite as beautiful as you. If you’d let me, I would love to shower you with anything and everything you could ever want.”

You flinched as you felt his hand softly caress your face. This was enough for Geralt, who stood quickly and drew his sword. The king’s men came to attention then, surrounding Geralt with their weapons pointed towards him. The king was still in front of you, stupidly waiting for your answer.

You glared at him before responded, “Get the fuck out of my face.”

His face fell then, quickly turning to anger as he stood to address his men. “Just a misunderstanding, gentlemen. You may leave the Witcher and his wench alone.”

The king’s men stood down, but still kept a watchful eye on Geralt as they retreated towards their tents. Once they, along with the king, were gone, Geralt took hold of your arm and roughly pulled you to a stand. He dragged you towards the tent the two of you were sharing. You struggled to keep up, occasionally stumbling.

When you reached the tent, Geralt closed the flaps behind you and ensured that no one would be able to see through them. He turned to you and immediately attached his lips to yours, kissing you roughly. His hands traveled over your body, starting at your ass and running slowly up your back, causing you to shiver. When he reached the top of your dress, he roughly pulled at it, ripping the fabric and letting it drop to pool around your feet.

“You could’ve just asked me to take it off,” you said as Geralt guided you to floor, laying you down in front of him.

“Would’ve taken too long,” he responded as he threw his weapons to the side and took his pants off. “You have enough clothes to be able to change in the morning, I’ll buy you a new dress once we finish this stupid mission.”

Before you could respond, Geralt shoved himself into you, causing you to gasp. Usually, he gave you enough time to adjust to his size, but he seemed as though this time was less for pleasure and more as though he had something to prove.

His thrusts were immediately rough. You couldn’t help but cry out in pleasure as his hips would meet yours, the loud sound of skin slapping against skin ringing out through the tent.

“That’s right,” he muttered into your ear as his lips attacked your neck. “Let that pretentious little prick know who you belong to.”

You cried out Geralt’s name as you felt yourself nearing your climax already. Your legs were shaking and your eyes were rolling back into your head as you felt yourself orgasm. Feeling your walls clench around him caused Geralt to moan as he buried his head in your shoulder.

His rough thrusts began to speed up, and that’s how you knew he was nearing his climax as well. Finally, his thrusts became sloppy and you felt his warm seed filling you. You both moaned together as Geralt rode out his orgasm. He slipped himself out of you and rolled next to you, wrapping his arms around you and holding you to him.

“You really did not like the way the king spoke to me, huh?” you teased.

Geralt made a face. “My lady. That little prick has some balls to say that shit in front of me. I wanted to slice his head clean off of his neck.”

“I have a feeling he very rarely hears the word no,” you noted. “You know I would never leave you, let alone for someone like him, right?”

Geralt’s hold on you tightened as he kissed your forehead. “I know you wouldn’t, but that doesn’t mean the way he spoke to you doesn’t make me angry.”

“I know,” you told him. “If it helps you feel better, just remember that we probably won’t have to deal with him for much longer once we find this monster.”

A smile spread across Geralt’s lips. “That really helps. I hope I’m the one to find his remains. It would bring me the most joy I’ve ever felt.”

You giggled and cuddled into Geralt’s side. Your body ached from the sex, but you weren’t exactly complaining. You listened to Geralt’s steady breathing as it lulled you to sleep.

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Home (Four Times Crowley was Lovesick - and Aziraphale Took Care of Him)

Written for @do-it-with-style-events "Who Needs A Great Plan" event, Day 1, prompt "Four"

--

Crawly stood beneath the white wing, watching the rain fall, watching the humans walk away, watching anything but the angel beside him, his smile, the way he furrowed his brow and pouted.

His heart kept doing a funny skipping thing every time he looked that way, which was odd, and made him think he’d gotten some sort of defective body, or possibly that he’d messed something up in the transition from the serpent form.

“You know, I do think this rain might not be as pleasant as I’d hoped,” the angel said, tipping his head back so sopping white curls dangled, dripping onto his robe. “I’m starting to feel a bit cold, are you?”

“Nah. M’adem’n,” Crawly muttered, trying to keep his teeth from chattering.

“Well. I suppose we all have our aptitudes.” He reached down to squeeze the rainwater from his sleeve. “I suppose you carry the fires of Hell within you, or something?”

“S’nice.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the angel turn to smile at him and now his heart was doing some sort of backflip, and his stomach attempting to dance. “G-g-gotta keep’m somewhere.”

“I see. I do find myself missing my sword, but I think…” his lips pursed. “I think it’s in the right hands.”

How could he forget the angel had given away his sword.Fucking brilliant.

Crawly sniffed, and the cold seemed to creep into his nose. “M-must’a b’n-n-nice t’have a-a-achoo!”

His body must be worse than he’d thought. His entire face seemed to have exploded.

“Good lord, what was that?” The angel shuffled closer, peering at him, reaching up to poke at Crawly’s nose. “Is this supposed to make that sort of noise?”

The demon braced himself, expecting pain, expecting a reprimand, expecting anything but a soft finger gently massaging the bridge of his nose, pressing lightly as if he might break.

“S’only a-achoo!” Not again. “Achoo! A-CHOO!”

“This sounds serious!” The angel now stood so close that his arm pressed against Crawly’s. “Oh! And your hand!” He snatched it up, gently tracing his fingers across the demon’s palm. “It’s cold! Have your fires gone out?”

“Nnnnnnnnnh. S’th’cold,” he confessed. “S’getting in m’nose.”

“Well, that will not do.” Being careful to keep his wing in place, the angel looped his arms around Crawly’s waist, drawing him into an unexpected softness, a steady warmth. “There. Is this better?”

“Mrgl.” Crawly didn’t look over, even as the angel leaned against him. He shifted his am, putting it around the angel’s shoulders, rubbed his forearm as he rubbed Crawly’s side, but the demon did not look.

It was safer that way.

--

“Then you hold the oyster like this, and—” Aziraphale slurped it out of the shell.

“Ngk.” Crowley swirled his wine, glaring into the cup. “I…maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.”

“Nonsense! Trying new foods is one of the delights of the world.”

“Yeah, but…I prefer foods that don’t smell so bad.”

That made Aziraphale laugh, which made things harder. It seemed to echo in Crowley’s chest, send his heart into answering flutters. He shifted on the couch, but there was only so far he could roll before it was impossible to drink. Which meant he had to keep looking across the table, at Aziraphale’s couch, where he reclined in a rolling curve of soft white toga and ate his oysters and wouldn’t stop smiling.

“Crowley? Are you feeling quite well?”

“Nrgh. Yeah. Why?”

“Because I asked four times how your wine is and you never responded.”

“Oh.” He couldn’t remember, so he drank a mouthful, then immediately spat it out. Salt water and vinegar, same as any Roman wine. “Lousy.”

“That doesn’t sound good.” And all at once, the angel rolled off his couch and now he was crossing the room and oh Satan, he was on Crowley’s.

This was a disaster.

Aziraphale leaned down and rested a hand on Crowley’s forehead. “You do feel extremely warm. Are you ill? I’m not sure a demon can get ill but—”

“Yes! Yes. That.” He tried to sit up. “Very, very ill. I should go. I should go now—”

“But—”

Crowley managed to get his feet under him, and his robe under his feet, and he collapsed again, falling onto something softer than the couch Oh Satan it was Aziraphale’s lap.

“Crowley!” His head turned instinctively and shit, those eyes were so close.

His heart was going to explode, but it was worth it.

“I should…take you home…”

“Ahhhhhhhh,” Crowley managed. Yes. Please. Please, wherever you call home, that’s where I want to be.

“Yes. Right. Immediately. Tell me where you’re staying, and I will escort you back.”

“My…my…oh.” His stomach was doing something new, twisting around itself. Like when he saw the Hellhounds getting ready for a walk, but worse. “M’a’th’p’liss.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m! At! Th—thepalace.” Great. Now he was either shouting or mumbling. Why couldn’t he think?

“Good. Right. Palace.” He slid his arm behind Crowley, supporting him. “Do you think you can walk?”

The demon’s legs had never shaken like this before. “Definitely not.”

“That’s alright.” And Aziraphale scooped him up into his arms, as easily as if Crowley were a child. “I’ll help you.”

--

Crowley hadn’t slept in over a month.

He shouldn’t have needed to. Demons didn’t sleep. But he’d gotten used to it, most nights, and now his task consumed him day and night, driving him to ever more complex plans, ever more desperate measures.

But finally…finally…he’d gotten a bloody crowd to see that gloomy talk-y play.

And just in time. Aziraphale had sent word that he was returning tonight, and he was supposed to meet Crowley here, outside the inn. The demon had rooms above, which had been used for scheming and planning and plotting and not, for a long time, sleeping.

He was fine, though. Running on pure adrenaline, yeah, but that just made life good. He couldn’t wait to swagger into that theater, spread his arms and show the angel—

“Ah, Crowley! There you are, my good fellow.”

He turned his head and fuck, there went his knees. Aziraphale was smiling at him like he was actually glad to see Crowley, and his entire body just stopped obeying any commands or even regular rules of biology. He staggered, legs feeling watery, his head spun, lights brighter than stars flashing before his eyes, and his heart just ached to reach out.

“Crowley? Is something the matter?”

“Mnothang.” Brilliant. He slumped against the wall of the inn, trying to get some sense of reality back. “M’a little tired’s’all.”

“Tired? Are you sure?” Aziraphale rushed forward, cupping Crowley’s face in his hand. “You feel…clammy. I need—can you take your glasses off? I need to see your eyes.”

“Szfiiiine.” But he pulled them off, and found himself again pierced by eyes glowing just a bit too blue to be allowed.

“No, no your eyes are glassy. And—and look, your pulse is racing.”Now came the concerned look, oh Satan, no one else ever looked at Crowley like that. “This…this looks a great deal like the latest plague, I saw several villages struck by it coming back.”

“Angelllll. M’ademon. We don’ get th’plague.” Why could he not just speak normally?

“Nonsense, you know perfectly well you’ve always had a strange constitution, getting sick far too often. You still have rooms here, yes? Upstairs. To bed.”

Will you come with me? The angel’s hand hadn’t moved from Crowley’s cheek, and he never wanted to be away from that touch again. “But…”

“No buts.” The hand did fall away, but only to grip his shoulder, spin Crowley around and propel him forward, through the door, and up the stairs.

Aziraphale walked past the mess in his room, the papers, notes, maps, disguises, and everything else needed to convince a city it actually liked that blasted play. He steered Crowley directly to the bed, and pushed him down onto it. “There. Stay put, please.”

“Nnnnh.” It wasn’t the most comfortable place he’d ever lain, but the rough straw mattress seemed luxurious just now. Something tugged at his foot, and he looked up to find Aziraphale, carefully pulling his shoes off. “Still here?”

“What are you talking about? Where else would I be?” He sounded cross.

“The play.”

“Play? Play? Oh, yes, Hamlet.” He tossed the shoes aside and settled Crowley’s leg back onto the bed. “I’m sure I’ll have plenty of opportunities. I hear they’re planning to run it twice as long as they’d expected.”

Of course they were, Crowley was good at his job. But there was no point if Aziraphale didn’t see the crowd. “Gotta go,” he insisted, though his body was already curling up on itself, preparing for a long sleep.

“Absolutely not.” A rustle, and when Crowley’s eye cracked open again, Aziraphale was seated on the edge of the bed, taking Crowley’s hand in his. “I need to make sure you’re alright.”

“Hnnngh.” But he was far too exhausted to argue. “Why’r’ya’lways…fussing…like y’r worried…”

He didn’t hear Aziraphale’s answer, but in his dream the angel said, “Of course I worry. Whatever would I do without you?”

--

“All them angels,” Crowley shouted, bottle in hand, “an’specially Gabriel, can go! To! Helllllllll!”

“Really? And what about the demons already there?”

“Thas’th brilliant part.” He staggered a little, grinning at Aziraphale. Their celebration at the Ritz had gotten a little out of hand, but in a good way. A way they bloody well deserved. “Th’demons. They go to Heaven. But. But. Buuuuuuut.” He took a long drink, then offered the bottle to the angel, who shook his head. “Wha’was I…ri’ri’righ’—go to Heaven. But. Don’ tell’em th’passwords. For anyfing.”

“Won’t they just figure them out?”

“Nnnnnnnnope! Cuz allll the brains in Hell are right here!” He shouted in the general direction of the office building. “Have fun puttin’…Hastur’n charg’a…stuff…” He tried for another drink, but the wine had all gone. “Awwww.”

“Don’t worry, my dear, we’re nearly home.”

“Ya. S’good.” Home was good. Plants. Television. More wine. The bed. Hadn’t slept all week.

Why was Aziraphale coming with him? Hadn’t the shop un-burned down? Had he left something at Crowley’s flat? A…spare bowtie?

Also: why did Mayfair look suspiciously like Soho?

The penny dropped at about the time Aziraphale got the shop door unlocked. “Thizzisn’ home,” he pointed out.

“Well-spotted. Come on, then.”

Shrugging, Crowley followed. There’d be more wine here, at least, and a sofa to sleep on. Not the most comfortable, but he was tired enough.

Something was different. Crowley squinted at a pile of books, but they remained stubbornly bookish. Ah, well. Sofa.

He slumped on it, waiting for Aziraphale to head to the back room for some wine, or settle into his armchair. Maybe pick up a book to read while Crowley rambled.

Instead, the angel sat beside him.

“Annngiraphel…”

“Crowley. Are you sure you’re feeling well?”

“Course. I’m cebretory. Cerebrorrry. Celebatory. ‘M partying.”

“Yes, I know. But…I just…” Oh, Someone. The concerned, furrowed brow. The pouting lips. The eyes. So much worse than the smile. Good thing Crowley was already sitting, because the room was starting to spin, even before Aziraphale picked up his hand. “I wish you would take care of yourself.”

“Wha? I do. Allllays do. No one else’z gonna do’t. Not’n Hell. Wily demon, righ’?” He tried to smile, even as his heart and stomach started switching places.

“Then why are you always unwell? I’ve lost count of…of how many times I’ve seen you falling over, unable to speak, too hot or too cold.”

“Ssssss’not like that.”

“Yes it is! And…and it was bad enough before. Crowley, we…we’re all we have left. Each other. And…and whatever it is that…that gets you into this condition…alcohol, or illness, or…whatever else. I wish you would avoid it.”

“Can’t.”

“Crowley—” Aziraphale pulled his hand closer, eyes pleading, and for a moment the demon thought he’d just discorporate on the spot. Probably would have if he’d been sober.

“Can’t. S’only one thing tha’makes me…fall orer mysel’. Makes me…can’t speak. S’only evrrr been one.”

Aziraphale’s face was so soft. Crowley couldn’t figure out how his hand had gotten there, pressed to his cheek, but it was good.

Or not. Angel’s eyes went wide. Probably did something wrong. Crowley pulled his hand back, wondering if he’d be kicked out.

“Can you…sober up, dear?”

“Nnnnnnnnnnnnidonwanna.” He wrinkled his nose. Shoulda stopped three bottles ago.

“Yes, I know. But you’ll likely have a hangover either way, and you might as well have it now. And…I want to finish this conversation sober.” Oh, the sad eyes, the serious face.

“Awwwwwtha’s no’fair. S’not like I c’n say no.”

“I…yes, you can. It is your choice.”

“Nnnh. Can’t say no’ta’you.” He looked around for something, maybe a garbage bin or…oh, yes, a planter. Lucky tree was about to get some very expensive alcohol.

He concentrated, pulling all the alcohol out of his body, filling one planter, then another, then another. As the light-headedness faded, the headache came in, pounding and pulsing.

“Glarghl.” Crowley pressed a hand to his eye. “See? Sober. Happy?”

“Not yet. Can you walk?” A light tug on his hand, and Crowley staggered to his feet, trailing after Aziraphale. Up the stairs? They never went up there. Private bookshelves and sculptures and junk.

At the top, Aziraphale opened a door that he’d thoughtwas a closet but actually led to Crowley’s bedroom.

Wait.

Crowley turned around, bleary eyes searching the shop. Plants. His plants. His sculptures. Junk. Also his.

Back to the bedroom. His bed, his furniture. Not his room. Wooden walls covered in bookshelves, good sized window looking out at the back alley. He could just see the Bentley parked out there.

“Th’fuuuuck…”

“I’m…I’m sorry. I should have asked.” Aziraphale gently pushed him towards the bed. “If you don’t like it, I’ll put everything back tomorrow. I just.” A gentle nudge, and Crowley sat on the bed. “I want you close. Where I can take care of you.”

“Don’need it.” He wriggled his toes, making his boots vanish. It was easier than meeting Aziraphale’s eyes.

“Yes, you do.” A hand on his shoulder pushed Crowley down into the bed, his head onto the pillow

It felt so much more comfortable here, in Aziraphale’s shop, with Aziraphale beside him.

“No. Don’t need you to take care of me.” He stared resolutely up at the ceiling, searching his aching head for the words he needed. Swallowing, trying to push aside the pain, the soreness in his throat. “I need…I just need…”

He couldn’t say it. But he reached out, hand groping along the edge of the bed until it found Aziraphale’s, resting lightly on the mattress. Cautiously, Crowley slid his hand on top of it.

“Crowley…please look at me.” His eyes wandered down, following the shelves until they landed on Aziraphale’s face. On his brilliant, angelic smile.

The demon tried to smile back, though his head was pounding. He managed something like a grimace. “Nnnnnnnnh. C’n we finish this in’th’morning.”

“Do you think you’ll be better able to talk?”

“Mrrrf. Will you be there?”

“Of course,” the angel said, nearly indignant.

“Nope. Not a chance.” His thumb traced the back of Aziraphale’s hand. “I can never say what I want. S’not even that many words. But…” Crowley shrugged.

“Can you move over?” Aziraphale asked, sliding his hand out from under Crowley’s.

The demon blinked, confused, and wriggled further along the mattress.

The bed dipped under the new weight as Aziraphale climbed into the vacated space, laying beside him. “I…I could never say it, either. Always something stopping me, some…uncertainty. Even now. But I shall keep trying.” His fingers gently brushed Crowley’s cheekbone. “My dear…would you like to…to make this place…your home?”

“Nh. Shop’s not home.” The fingers jerked away, and Aziraphale’s brow furrowed, not in concern this time, in pain. Fuck. Why was it so hard?

He caught Aziraphale’s hand before it could get far, bringing it back, gently resting it against his heart. “This, Angel. This’s home. You.”

“Oh.” Blue eyes blinked, a look of wonder in them Crowley had felt many times, wonder at this being who cared for him, who stayed by him. Always. “I…I see.”

The mattress shifted again, and suddenly the angel was closer. Which of them had moved? Did it matter? Did anything matter, apart from Aziraphale’s arm across him, all the warmth and softness he could ever ask for, pulling him in, pulling him close, enveloping him as it had that first day.

“Yes. Welcome home, dear.”

[itsthemoofacewriting]

Why won’t you comfort me?

Ray’s fic request, ‘Take them, they’re yours’, actually birthed two additional stories, ‘the way she’s pulling you in’ and this one. Both on completely different ends of the spectrum.

Grief, grief and more grief. I cried writing this. You’ve been warned.

Summary: The moment he’d lost his mother, he’d lost everything. Rating: T

This can also be found on AO3 and FFN. 

Enjoy?

The anniversary of a death, a birthday… Mother’s Day, they were all reasonable days to be upset, to be reminded of that person, be bogged down by the past and what could have been, maybe even cry.

But it hadn’t any of those days. It’d been a very normal day and all it had taken was one miniscule thing and a fleeting thought for it to all go downhill.  

It’d been stupid, really. One moment he was on his way to Nami’s orange tree late at night, perfectly fine, to pick some oranges for tomorrow morning and he’d caught whiff of Robin’s flowers. It had been quick, a fleeting moment, and he’d smelled them a thousand times before, but his brain had made the connection this time around.

They smelled like his mother.

She’d have them on her bedside table when he went to visit and although he hadn’t focused on it back then, he just used to remember thinking how nice it smelled there compared to the stale air of the castle.

That one smell threw him straight back to being a little boy, eagerly running to the hospital to see the one person that loved everything about him.

His Mum.

The moment he’d lost her, he’d lost everything.

Any scrap of happiness or freedom he’d had was gone. Gone was the person fighting in his corner for his father to leave him alone or to tell his siblings off when they were being particularly mean. But mainly, he’d lost his safe place.

Lost a place where he could go and be accepted for who he was with unconditional love and support.

Lost a person so dear to him, that his world had been shattered.

One day he’d been told she was gone and that had been it. There had been no further explanation, or condolences or someone to share his grief with. His siblings had looked at him like he’d lost his mind when he couldn’t control the tears streaming down his face, sobs racking his body, and his father had sneered down at him, not an ounce of compassion in his words or face as he was told to control himself, pull himself together.  

It’d been his mother’s handmaid in the end that had explained the following day, when he’d gone to her hospital room to check if it was just some cruel joke. She’d explained in the best way she could to a child that’d just starting to learn the harsh realities of the world. She’d said it had just been her time, that she’d gone peacefully, with a smile on her face and had told her so many times about how proud his mother had been to have had him.

She’d rubbed his shoulders, trying to comfort him as best as she could as he wailed at the empty bed, but she had to be respectful because of his title, which meant there was a foot between them, and he couldn’t bury his face in her shoulder like he’d wanted to. He’d appreciated the gesture, it was the most he’d received back then, yet all he’d thought about was how it lacked the warmth his mother’s touches held and how desperately he wanted to feel that again.

He never saw the handmaid after that day, and it had taken years after to figure out why.

After that, he hadn’t felt warmth for a long time.

As soon as he was deemed a lost cause, between his failure to keep up with his siblings and sporadic emotional outbursts that he couldn’t control, he’d been sentenced to the darkness. It had been cold and dark, although he’d been free to cry as much as he wanted without judgement.

And cry, he did.

Cried for all he’d lost, for where he was, for how he couldn’t save his mother or see her one last time. Couldn’t savour the last hug he’d had with her or memorise the way she’d smiled at him because he hadn’t known what was coming.

He didn’t even have a photo of her.

All of that had been taken away after her death, apparently, they didn’t need the distraction and it had been carried out with such ease, like she’d meant nothing. All he’d had back then was a drawing of her he’d made with charcoal he’d found in his cell and no matter how many times he’d tried; he could never capture the love in her eyes or the softness in her smile.

He wondered if his father had ever mourned for his wife. If he had, he’d never seen it.

He was lost in his grief, the tears pouring hot and fast, and he’d long given up on wiping his face, the sleeves of his shirt and collar already saturated. His childhood played in a loop in his head, and he was so out of touch that he missed the shuffle of feet drawing in closer behind him.

“Sanji-kun?” Shit. “Are you okay?”

And that was the was one woman in particular on board that would understand. Who had lost their own mother in the blink of an eye, in an instant had also lost their safe place after years of comfort and love and thrown into darkness against her will.

His back stiffened despite the soft words, all too aware of how back then this sort of behaviour would have earned him a backhand, and he only had a moment to pull himself together because he had to say something quickly.

“Of course, Nami-san.” His voice wobbled halfway through, and it sounded weak. “Is there anything I can get you?” He asked, in hopes of fooling her with his normal question.

“No, thank you.”

“Okay, well I’m going to bed soon, so I’ll see you in the morning.” The words were bitter in his mouth, from holding back his tears and for trying to dismiss her. It was for her own good though and that at least soothed him, she didn’t need to deal with his crocodile tears.

There was a pregnant pause and he wondered briefly if he’d somehow managed to convince her with his poor acting until he heard the shuffle of slippers closing in.

Of course he couldn’t fool her.

She sat down next to him and oh god. She was in her pyjamas. He was ruining her quiet evening; she’d only gone to the kitchen for some water.

He couldn’t look at her, he was pathetic sitting there crying like a child and maybe he hoped that if he was silent for long enough, she’d leave him. So she didn’t have to endure this.

Instead, she cupped his face, guiding him to face her and even though he complied, his eyes were still looking at the floor. She didn’t pay any mind to that though, her thumbs brushed along his face, chasing away the tears and drying his face. She pulled a tissue from the pocket of her shorts to wipe away at his nose and he burned with shame until he looked at her. There was no disgust on her face, no sneer for his sorry state, only kindness and understanding.

That look was enough for his eyes to well up again and her expression didn’t change, she didn’t look annoyed that he still wasn’t done or that cleaning his face had been fruitless effort when he was just going to cry again. Instead, she smiled, and her own eyes even looked a bit misty.

Her hands pulled away from his face and he almost wanted to chase after the affection until her arms opened to make a space for him in between them.

“It’s a one-time offer, surely you can’t pass that up?” She joked teasingly, wiggling her fingers for him invitingly.

He spluttered a laugh through his red rimmed eyes and errant tears at the normality of their relationship, how she wasn’t tiptoeing around him.

Hurriedly he scooted over and into her waiting arms, although he hadn’t needed to as her arms wrapped around him, drawing him in quickly as he curled into her embrace and tucked himself in the nook of her neck. It’d been so long since he’d had this and it was so familiar to the hugs from his youth, when he cried into his mother’s hugs as he told her about the cruel things his father or siblings had done on that particular day or laughed as she wrapped her arms around him as he sat in her lap, explaining his latest creation from his scrap book of cooking ideas.

For the first time in a long time, he could picture his mother’s face behind his closed eyes. He sobbed, shoulders heaving as he gasped for breath between his crying because it was all too much and exactly what he wanted at the same time.

He’d never been able to properly mourn her.

Belatedly, he realised Nami had started crying too, her frame shaking along with his and his hair dampening from her tears as they clung to one another fiercely. She didn’t ask or push for an answer or explanation for his state, she just let him cry into the nook of her neck, clinging to her desperately.

“I miss her,” he said eventually, voice quiet and raw.

“Who?”

He couldn’t get the words out, couldn’t get them past his throat where he felt like he was choking.

He didn’t need to though; she saw straight through him, she understood. “Your Mum?”

He nodded, feebly, pathetically, into her neck and a fresh wave of tears came over him.

“You’ve never told me about her.” She said softly, observationally. There was no pressure to elaborate, nothing in her tone forcing him but the option was there.

And he took it. “She was kind and warm. She’d listen to me talk about cooking endlessly and taste test and put in requests-”

‘And she loved who I was back then. Even when no one else did.’

He’d been holding himself together so far until his throat had seized up, the memories flooding in thick and fast. He sniffed, clearing his throat, trying to contain himself but it was in vain as new tears welled up and his head rested heavily on her shoulder in defeat as he lost the battle.

“Sorry,” he choked out, ashamed once again.

“Don’t be,” she soothed, no sign of irritation in her voice at having to reassure him for the umpteenth. “Tell me more about her, she sounds lovely.”

With her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, he realised that this was what he’d wanted back then. Not someone just rubbing his shoulders from a distance or trying to soothe him to stop the tears, but an actual hug as they let him cry without telling him to be brave or to be a big boy. It made the tears burn hotter and sadness surged out for his younger self.

Belatedly he realised, that as he talked and she listened, with her arms wrapped around him in comfort-

She was warm.

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

I love Sanji’s backstory so much in case that wasn’t already obvious. I will find every angle imaginable to write about it.

I can’t remember who told me about this or where I saw it, but I heard a wonderful analogy for grief that even to this day I still think about, so I feel it’s fitting that I share it here. Grief’s like being in a room with a ball and a light switch, the ball is the person/event, and the switch is grief/sadness/pain. When it happens, that ball is huge, so huge that it’s constantly hitting the light switch. However, over time, that ball gets smaller and smaller, but it’s still bouncing around the room, so it means that it’s still going to hit the switch occasionally. Sometimes, by chance, it hits the switch constantly, even though it’s tiny and other times, it misses it for a long time, however, it’s always going to hit the switch at some point, no matter how small. It’s very simplified, but a few years ago I experienced grief in a big way, and it helped me make sense of it, so hopefully it’ll help someone else too.

As always, please forgive any errors.

Thanks for reading.

[lillian-nator]

I haveth returned to redeem myself: Tommy is anxious abt Phil being mad at him for sneaking out again, but he decides to text techno bc he and Tubbo needs picked up and they're very cold, Techno, realising he prob should be mad but not being mad after seeing Tommy and Tubbo just waiting for him and laughing and joking instead he just sighs and asks what stupid things Dream did at the party once they get in the car (blackmail purposes obviously) and just settles for seeing Tommy light up and tell him how Dream fell down the stairs, at least his brother is having fun, techno says to himself - 💙 (Tommy totally got made to clean technos room as thanks for not ratting him out)

Blue, you are my lord and savior. I have to answer your other ask after this - I don’t give you enough credit Blue. 

SO, Tommy keeps sneaking out because he can. He has only been caught two times. The one time he was high. And the time Techno caught him. 

All three of his brothers couldn’t imagine how much Tommy sneaks out, and then helps Tubbo out of his own window - I mean, Tommy probably learned how to pick locks at one point just because he can. They would never know that in the night, most of the time, Tommy is out and about, exploring abandoned buildings or chilling throughout the town. 

One of Tommy’s favorite activities to do when out at night is house hopping. It’s something that Punz came up with, where, usually Dream, sneaks out of their house, and then sneaks into somebody else’s. Then those two people sneak into another person’s house, and then the three of them go to the next. Everyone has to text the ‘gang’ to see who is awake and down for the game first, but it usually ends up with a good 7 - 9 kids just sneaking around at night, laughing their heads off when Ponk gets stuck in his window again. They end up stealing snacks from each respective house, and then going to chill in Dream’s house, because he has a soundproof room. 

Sometimes they bring scooters and skateboards too, which is always fun. George always seems to have a few spare scooters around for people who need them, and Tommy borrows Dream’s extra skateboard - a skill he picked up very fast with the help of Karl. 

We’re getting off topic here, the night that Tommy called Techno, he was at another one of Dream’s infamous parties. 

How Technoblade and Wilbur got cut out of the loop when the entire Senior and Junior class was invited to this party is unknown - but Tommy damn well knows that he asked Dream to keep it away from his brother’s circles. It wasn’t only him that would be affected, but Tubbo too since Eret is one of Wilbur’s closest friends. Hell, if either of his brothers caught wind of the party, Purpled probably wouldn’t be able to make it. Technoblade has his ways. 

So, it was very late at night. Maybe 2 or 3 - or maybe even 4 in the morning. It was cold. So fucking cold outside. Cold enough that he knew that he wouldn’t make it trying to walk all the way home. 

Purpled had already gone home, his house only down the block, but Tommy and Tubbo were stuck waiting outside. 

Tommy knew that Dream would let them stay the night. He knew that. George and Karl were sure to stay over. He thought he saw Quackity passed out on the couch next to Punz - and Tommy wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw SapNap sleeping in Dream’s room when he headed out the door. 

It’s not that Tommy didn’t have a place to stay. It’s that if he stayed here, he would have to admit to Phil, Wilbur, and Techno that he snuck out. And Tubbo, who was in a similar situation to him, would have to admit that he was sneaking out to his brother, Eret. 

Tommy did know one person who he could call - who was definitely sober enough to drive, unlike the teens in Dream’s living room - that might not tell on him, and who was the only person he knew that would be up this late in the morning. 

And honestly, a maybe, in that moment, was enough for Tommy to call. 

When Technoblade first received a call from Tommy, he was confused. 

Techno was sat in his bed, computer on his lap, deep in his English Essay, when Tommy called him. Confused, he picked up, what could Tommy want that he couldn’t have come two doors down for? 

“Techno?” Tommy asked and shuddered. There were cars behind him. 

“Where are you Toms?” Techno grunted, he knew for sure that Tommy was not in his bedroom. “Did you get stuck the roof again?” 

“Yeah.” Tommy laughed, sounding drunk off of his tiredness, but Techno knew that Tommy wouldn’t be able to speak if he was actually drunk, he was there the one time Tommy drank. “About that.” 

“You snuck out again didn’t you.” Techno groaned, why couldn’t Tommy just do what he was asked for once?

“You know me so well Technoblade!” Tommy cheered his tone dripping with sarcasm. “We are at Dreams. He had a big party - woo hoo. Can you come pick us up?” 

“Who is us?” Techno asked, intrigued, but slowly getting out of his bed.

“Me and Tubs. It’s cold Techno, can you please come pick us up?” He could hear the desperation in the blonde’s voice. 

“Yeah.” Techno sighed. “I’ll be there in 5.” 

Driving there was a debate. Techno was arguing whether or not he should tell Phil. On one hand, his 15-year-old brother was consistently sneaking out until ungodly hours of the morning, to go to parties and other stupid shit. Shit that should probably be stopped by Phil. On the other hand it was great blackmail material and -  

He looked out his window, to see the two boys on the stairs. Laughing their asses off. A fond smile played on his lips as Tommy seemingly doubled over in laughter, rolling on the ground. 

“Tommy get out of the grass, you’re gonna stain your fucking jeans.” Techno snorted  at the boys. 

They both eagerly looked up, and Techno could see how visibly cold they were. Their noses and cheeks red, their shoulders shivering, and their breath visible.

“Hurry up, get in. We can get some coffee or something to warm you guys up.” 

Tommy and Tubbo both hurriedly climbing into the backseat, sitting close for more warmth. Techno threw them both a hoodie that he grabbed on his way out of the house. 

“Tubbo I want that back on Monday at school.” 

Tubbo rushidly put it on, speaking faster with every breath. “Thank you Techno. Could you just drop me off though, I need time to get back in before Eret notices.” 

“Yeah sure Tubs. We’ll get there in a minute.” 

The trio continued the drive in silence, Techno not being one to start the conversation, and Tommy and Tubbo trying to warm themselves up. 

Techno stopped the car a block away from Tubbo’s house, knowing that the car lights would bring suspicion to Eret who may or may not be awake at this time of night. 

“Thank you so much Techno! I’ll be sure to give you the hoodie back on Monday.” Tubbo exclaimed. 

“You got it Tubbo.” Techno smiled in the boy’s direction. 

As soon as Tubbo shut the car door, Techno could hear shuffling as Tommy climbed over the bar, sitting himself in the passengers seat next to Techno. 

Tommy’s eyes were slightly closed, he could tell how tired the boy was. I mean, Techno had no way of knowing how many times a week this boy regularly skipped sleeping. Sleep deprivation would crush him sooner or later. His blonde hair was a mess, sticking up in multiple directions out of the hoodie that was two-sizes too big on him. 

It dawned on Techno that it was Wilbur’s hoodie.

“You wanna get some coffee? Maybe a snack?” Techno offered, putting his hand on the shift, and turning around the car to back out of the street. 

He watched Tommy’s eyes light up at the sound of food, and a warm drink. 

The blonde hummed, “Yes please.” 

It was odd, really, For Techno to see this kind of contentment on his brothers face. It was always rushed excitement, or some sort of anger. Recently, Tommy had been really good at keeping his emotion in check - keeping his face calm when he was angry, or staying quieter when he was excited. 

Techno guesses that it’s just a part of Tommy growing up. 

Something that he is not willing to admit is happening. Not yet. 

But still, it was strange to see the smile cross his brothers face without thought, the blonde subconsciously snuggling closer into the hoodie. 

Techno sighed, a smile finding a place on his own face, “Did you have fun?” 

Tommy’s eyes lit up, shy smile forming into a wide grin. “You should’ve seen it Techno it was so fun. You should’ve seen Dream - he was a fucking mess. Wait till you hear the stories, he fell down his own stairs. Twice!” 

A fond smile still playing on his lips as he pulled into the Dunkin’ Donuts Drive Through. 

On one hand, his 15-year-old brother was sneaking out, going with people he shouldn’t be with, to places he shouldn’t be, sacrificing the sleep that he desperately needs at his age. On the other, his little brother was happy. Really, really happy. 

“Okay.” Techno decided, cutting Tommy off. “I won’t tell Phil, or Wilbur.” 

“Wait really?” Tommy asked skeptically. 

“Yeah.” He ruffled Tommy’s hair. 

“Cool.” Tommy decided. Techno moved up a spot in the Drive Through. 

“But,” Techno grinned, “You have to clean my room.” 

Tommy sighed, his mouth becoming a firm line. “Okay.” 

“Okay?” Techno asked. 

“Yeah,” His mouth forming a shy smile again, “Deal.” 

With that Tommy stuck out his pink finger - something that he hadn’t done since he was 8 years old. 

Techno blinked, then locked his finger with the blue-eyed teen. 

Maybe the old Tommy wasn’t gone just yet. 

[venactricisfics]

Malibu Desert

It hurts like hell.

Tags: @wonderlust75 @sickofbitches @lexiibishop @noz4a2 @just1bri @redwolfs-world @queenbeered

Master List

Twenty-One

I could feel the spinning of the lights in my head as we finally made it to the hospital. It hurt. I don’t know what I expected a gunshot to feel like. But imagining and knowing are so far apart. The pain let me know I was still living.

“How the fuck did this happen?” I could hear Bishop talking to someone in the room.

“It was an fucking ambush,” Hank’s voice answered. “How’s she doing?”

“Bullet went through. Lost a lot of blood,” Bishop answered, “but she’s strong. They said she should be coming around soon.”

I groan feeling the pain still shooting through my shoulder as I start to sit up, “It hurts like a son of a bitch.”

“You were fucking shot, Hermana,” Hank says, “I’ll get a nurse, then go check on Riz and Coco.” He stands and heads out of the room.

“What happened to Coco?” I ask weakly.

“The explosion,” Bishop answered, “his eyes got fucked up. Angel and Gilly are with him now.”

“And Riz?” my eyes search his.

“Just came out of surgery,” he replied. “Rest now.”

“I just want to go home,” I look past him at the nurse, “when can I go home?”

“Should be able to go home today,” she says, “Doctor will be in here soon to confirm.” She hands me a cup with pain pills and a cup of water, “Those should help. You can arrange physical therapy with the medical center in Santo Padre.”

An hour later, I’m fitted in a sling and sitting in a wheelchair. A clear plastic bag in my lap holding my bloody clothes and broken heels. “They were my favorite pair,” I looked back at Bishop who was pushing my chair to the lobby where the rest of the Mayans were waiting. I give a nod to Coco sitting in his own chair.

“I’m sitting down with the Kings in the morning,” Bishop says.

Coco looks up, “Why? This is a charter play.” I knew what that meant.

“The deal with Charming affects the whole MC,” Bishop responds.

“They fucking ambushed us,” Gilly’s voice getting louder behind Coco. “After a fucking sit down.”

“I know,” Bishop said. I could see the turmoil in his face as he looked from Coco to me and the rest of the Mayans. The right thing. The right thing for his guys, the club, for me wasn’t an easy thing.

“Let’s get home,” Hank stated, “Get some rest. Put this on the table tomorrow.”

“Creep and I will stay with Riz,” Taza says.

“Keep me in the loop,” I look up at him, “he saved me.”

“Of course,” he leans down and gives me a peck on the cheek, “Anyone of us would have done the same, cariño.” I knew it. Riz proved it.

“Let’s get the fuck outta here,” Bishop stated, then pushes my chair out the front door to the van waiting outside. I settled behind Gilly who was driving us back letting Coco ride shotgun. The ride back was silent. Anger clung to the air. It was raw and it was real. I couldn’t shake the image of El Palo’s eyes as they stared at me before he pulled the trigger. He never met me before that day and he hated me.

“Hey, we’re here,” Gilly called back to me. The van door slid open and EZ grabbed my bags and Angel took my hand and helped me down. I was groggy from the drugs but I could still feel the pain in my shoulder.

“I’ll drive you home tomorrow,” Bishop led me up the steps and down the hall to the dorm, “the Kings will be here early.” I take a seat on the bed. I tried not to think about how many cum stains were on the mattress. I was exhausted.

“I have to call the Irish,” I grumbled as Bishop helped me off with my shoes. “Whatever I tell them will change what goes on with Charming and with you.”

“I know, querida,” he kissed my forehead and pulled back the blanket, and tucked me under. “I can’t tell you how to land on that shit. We gotta figure out the best call for all of us.”

I woke the next morning to the piercing ring of my phone, I cried out in pain as I remembered my shoulder had a fucking whole-blown in it. Bishop had already gotten dressed and was likely at the table. Figuring out what to do about the VM.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Are ya alright, lass?” the thick Irish accent of Declan Brogan asked. “Chibs told us what happened at the meeting last night.”

“I’ll be ok,” I winced as I placed my arm back in the sling, then down the pills, Bishop left on the nightstand. “Is there any other way to keep the business going without that new partner?”

“I’ve put it to Chibs to find another way, but the fucking Mexicans fucked this up,” he responded, “never trusted them.”

“You never trust anyone that has a deeper tan than off-white,” I shuffle to my feet. “I can’t see the Mayans' answer to what happened being anything but retaliation.”

“Aye,” he replied, “if they don’t we will.”

“And that will cause everything to fall the fuck apart,” I wasn’t sure what to do. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

I never realized how hard it was doing things with one hand. I washed up in the bathroom and struggled to change my shirt and slide my pants up over my hips. Fortunately, I found yoga pants and one of Bishop’s black tanks stashed here. I look up as I hear a knock on the door.

“Yo, Malibu,” Angel saunters in, “Bish sent me to see if you needed any help.”

“I got the front bandage changed,” I said, “just need help with the back. My bra is hooked all wonky, can you fix that? And tying my shoes. How are your ponytail skills?”

“You’re asking for a lot,” he said, taking the sterile bandage from the table and then sat behind me on the bed.

“You saying you can’t handle it?” I flinch a little as his hand touches my back gently. Angel changed the bandage expertly. I was almost shocked.

“Na, just used to taking bras off not putting them on,” he fumbles, fixing the hooks, “I am a pro at that too.” Proud of himself he pulls the back of my shirt back down. He ties my sneakers and takes my hairbrush from me and brushes the tangles from my hair.

“I’m surprised,” I smooth my hair with my only available hand. “Thank you.”

“You scared us last night, Malibu,” Angel’s voice didn’t have the same tone as normal. “Can’t have you getting killed.”

“I’ll keep that in mind the next time someone shoots at me,” I offer a smile and walk with him down the hall. Gilly slides a chair out for me and sets a beer on the table in front of me. “Bishop?”

“The kings,” he points to the stained glass door.

“How are you feeling?” I asked Coco. He looked out of it. Wasn’t sure if it was the pain or the anger that gave him that look.

“Fucked,” he replied and took another drag from his cigarette. I nodded. I didn’t know his exact diagnosis but I did know that if his eyesight didn’t improve he couldn’t ride. If he couldn’t ride he couldn’t wear a patch. And for him the patch was everything. Coco’s family outside of the MC was beyond fucked up.

I turn, watching the kings and their crew file out of the stained glass door. I met Bishop’s troubled eyes with my own. The weight of things. Whatever decision either of us made would fuck things up for someone else.

“They heading out?” Gilly asked as the clubhouse door closed behind the other kings.

“They’re staying at Vicki’s until we sort this out,” Hank answered.

“What’s to sort out?” Coco inquired.

“You’re a smart man, Coco,” Bishop stated. “You know what’s at stake here.”

“Yeah,” he replied, “My fucking eyesight. It don’t get better I may never fucking ride again.”

Bishop looked at me then back to Coco, “We’re looking at millions of dollars in gun revenue for the entire Mayan organization.”

“So the CEOs of the Mayans Incorporated are deciding what’s best huh?” Coco’s one eye narrowed as he stood, “I hope y’all came up with a medical plan cause I’m gonna fucking need it.” Then storms out the front door.

“I’ll stay close,” Gilly followed after him. Bishop nodded and paced the floor. After asking Hank to reach out to Alverez, he looked at me. I could see the weariness in his eyes. He hadn’t slept since we got back. He carried it all with him. Coco, Riz, me. He bore that weight on his shoulders.

I stand following Bishop to a corner table. “I’m here, babe,” I tell him, my hand laying over his, “whatever you need.”

“I know, querida,” he kissed my temple, “I know.” I should have told him what Declan said but I couldn’t lay another burden on him. Not now. Not until they decided.

---

I sit at the table alone nursing a beer, watching the stained glass again. I lost count of the minutes that I’d waited for a club decision for anything. This time Bishop was getting council from Marcus. Bishop needed that guiding hand. That family connection to point him in the right direction. Or to encourage him to forge his own path. He was after all a king in his own right.

“I can take you to Vicki’s if you’d like,” Hank said when he exited the room.

“I’ll wait for Bishop,” I give him a smile, “has he eaten anything?”

“Have you?” he responded.

“I’m supposed to take care of you,” I tell him.

“And we’re supposed to take care of you, cariño,” he said, “if something worse than this,” he points to my sling, “had happened to you, it would break him.”

I nodded, “If anything happened to him,” I look at the big biker, “well I’m just hoping you don’t let me find out what would happen without him.”

I stood up when the stained glass slides open again and Marcus and Bishop walk out of Templo. “We’ll have to meet sometime when someone hasn’t just tried to kill me,” I give the former biker a peck on the cheek.

“When this is all settled,” he replied, “I’ll have my wife give you a call and we’ll have dinner or something.” He glances back at Bishop with a nod, “Primo.” Then left through the front door.

The Mayans dropped their phones in the basket outside the stained glass door, I watch as it closed behind them. The vote for payback. The pain in my shoulder wanted fucking vengeance, for myself, for Coco, and for Riz. But I knew that the deal with the VM was the one thing that kept the Irish guns in the hands of the Mayans.

I took a sip from my Diet Coke feeling every tick of the clock pulsing through my vein. The pain, stress of the wrong decision. I jump at the sound of the door being forcefully slung open and Coco storming out muttering curses in Spanish I didn’t understand. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or upset at the ‘No Vengeance’ vote.

I waited, watching as each man came out of Templo, none of them seemed fully satisfied with the vote but they knew it was the best thing for the club. Bishop slides the chair out beside mine and stuffs a cigarette between his lips. He doesn’t say a word for a long time. He doesn’t have to, I can feel how heavy the crown had become.

“If I didn’t have to think about the entire fucking club,” he said resting his hand on mine, “I’d kill every last one of those motherfuckers.”

“I know,” I replied. “It’ll work itself out.” I didn’t have a chance to tell him what Declan said to me this morning. The Vatos would be dead for what happened. By Mayan King or Irish.

I give his hand a gentle squeeze, preparing the words, to let him know that the deal would be dead no matter what. “Bishop…” I’m interrupted by the vibration of his phone.

“Shit,” Bishop said softly to his caller. “I’ll let them know.” His chair scrapes the floor as he stands. “Riz didn’t make it. Just spoke to Taza. He died about fifteen minutes ago. The vote is null and void,” he watches the faces of his men, “We’re going to war.”

---

Neither of us slept very well. How do you sleep when the person who saved your life lost his in the process?

“Can you stay with Vicki until we figure this shit out?” he asked as he helps me get dressed. “I won’t be able to help you. And she can use someone to be there with her.”

“Yeah,” I place my arm in the sling after smoothing my shirt down. “I can do that. Do you need help with anything else?”

“No, mi Amor,” he pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, “just for this shit to be done.”

He carries my overnight bag and places it in the back seat of my SUV, then helps me in the passenger’s seat. We rode in silence across the desert road to Vicki’s. Bikes were lined up, the club had already arrived.

“You need anything,” Bishop told Vicki, “don’t hesitate…” Vicki sobbed her acknowledgment then buried her face again in Taza’s chest. I didn’t speak enough Spanish to make out exactly what she said, but I could feel Vicki’s pain. Her heart was crumbling in pieces.

“Riz was her only family this side of the border,” Gilly said. I nod looking for something to do someway to help but there was nothing. And every inch of the place had a biker standing in it.

“Sit down, Princesa irlandesa,” Oso Ramos said to me. “You’re trying to do too much.”

“And you’re not trying to do enough,” I said back. I saw them circling Bishop like vultures. I knew they were trying to convince him to change his decision. “How many casualties do you think would justify it? Would you have a different view if the dead Mayan had an Oakland flash?”

“This is not the fucking time or /your/ place,” Ramos responded.

“I guess it’s not,” I stormed off, running smack into Angel’s chest as I head into the kitchen.

“Watch where you’re going, Malibu,” he said.

“Get out of my fucking way,” I responded. I needed out and Angel was blocking my escape. After I had a clear head. I sat down at the kitchen table and pull a cigarette out of an abandoned pack, I place it between my lips and flick a lighter, leaning into the flame. The burn of the smoke as I inhaled was soothing. I was able to focus again.

“Thought you didn’t smoke,” Angel said behind me.

“I don’t,” I inhale again flicking the ash in the tray. I wanted to wipe the tears from my face but I had no free hands. “Sorry about before.” He nodded then pulled a chair out to sit beside me, lighting a cigarette of his own.

“I didn’t know Riz well,” I said, “I know he liked to sing softly to himself in Spanish when he was working on his bike in the garage. I know he kept an arrowhead in the pocket of his kutte with his cigarettes. And I know that even though he didn’t really know me,” I sniffed, “he dove in front of a bullet to save my life.” I could feel the tears start pouring down my face. I couldn’t hold back the sobs. Angel wrapped his arms around my shoulders and let me cry. I let out everything I’d been holding in over the last several days.

“You’re snotting all over my shirt, Malibu,” he said.

“It’s fucking ugly anyway,” I responded.

[yehet-about-it]

I Like Me Better | 24b - A Night to Remember

~ A Wayv Social Media AU Series ~

< Prev || Series Masterlist || Next >

Synopsis: You’ve just moved into a new apartment with your best friend Yangyang, but you’re immediately faced with a problem: your incredibly noisy upstairs neighbour Xiao Dejun, or to friends, Xiaojun. You spend the first few weeks of your acquaintance hating his guts, but after a sincere apology and a fascinating revelation about his passions and motivations you slowly begin to see past his cold exterior to discover the real him. What will happen as you get closer to this troubled boy and how will those closest to you react?

Pairing: Reader x Xiao Jun

Themes and Warnings: Explicit language, mild sexual content, mild violence and references to drinking/alcohol. Deals with themes of toxic masculinity, insecurity, gaslighting (sort of), and jealousy…

Start Date: 5th Nov 2020

~ Updates now every Monday, Wednesday & Friday @ 9pm GMT/3pm CST

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Word Count: 1.6k (i swear i did not mean for it to be this long lmao) Warnings: Tbh this is just a whole load of fluff. I may or may not have gotten a bit carried away...

You arrived back at your apartment in high spirits, laughing with yangyang as he tripped up the steps, falling onto your landing with a thud. “Agh that never happened!” Yangyang cackled, dragging himself up off the floor and brushing off his pants. “You moron,” you joked, sidling past him towards your door, fishing the key out of your coat pocket.

You sighed, chuckling to yourself as you slid the key in the lock, swinging the door open and standing against it to allow Yangyang in. “Go get some water and get yourself to bed, you mess” you called after Yangyang as he wandered into your apartment and down the hall to your kitchen, yapping on to himself about something or other. “I’m just going to go get Bella!” Letting Yangyang sort himself out, you shut the door behind you after dropping your bag in the hall and ambled up the stairs with a smile plastered on your face.

“Hey,” Xiaojun greeted, grinning at you as he answered the door. “Hey!” You grinned back at him, shuffling into his apartment as he let you in, shutting the door behind you. “Looks like you had a good day,” Xiaojun stated as he led you through into the living room. “Yeah, honestly it was amazing! Everything went so well, and well, I just feel super happy right now,” you babbled, still high from the day’s excitement, the adrenaline and the buzz of the two cocktails not yet having worn off. “How was your day? Did Bella behave?” You came to a stop by the dining table. “Yeah, she’s been perfect! We went for a couple of walks like you said, and she’s eaten plenty. She’s sleeping again now,” Xiaojun answered, nodding to the sofa where bella was curled up on another blanket. You cooed at the sight, uwu-ing over you and Yangyang’s little baby and how well she seemed to get on with Xiaojun. “Thanks for this Dejun, it means a lot” you said quietly, stepping closer to him so you could wrap your arms around his neck and press a small kiss to his lips. Xiaojun’s arms baring his rolled up hoodie sleeves, looped around your waist in response, settling your body against his in a warm embrace. “No problem, I’m glad you had a good day”.

You didn’t know whether it was just the adrenaline still in your system or the fact that you were now undeniably romantically attracted to Xiaojun, but unable to fight the urge, you pressed your lips to his again, this time with more passion, your body pressing against him as your lips danced with his. Thankfully, Xiaojun returned the kiss with just as much passion, his hands sliding up your waist as you opened your mouth, letting his tongue slide in, moving perfecty against yours.

As your hands gripped feverishly at Xiaojun’s collar, he moved you so you were pressed up against the table, and moving his hands to the back of your thighs he hoisted you up to sit on it, slotting nicely into the space between your legs. Soon, every part of your body was on fire with want, and you knew this was it. You wanted him.

Pulling away from the kiss, you looked up into his deep brown eyes with a newfound determination. “I think I’m ready” you whispered breathlessly, unable to deny the throbbing in your core. “You’re sure?” Xiaojun voiced, just as your jacket began slipping down your shoulders, and you shrugged it off, showing you were ready to be his for the night. “Yes.” You nodded, and with that you were in the air, being carried towards the bedroom for a night to remember.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, you were awoken by the familiar feeling of something moving across your torso, and opened your eyes to see Bella had made her way into the bedroom and was clambering over you towards your face, wanting attention. “Hey girl!” you whispered, giggling as you picked her up off your stomach to cuddle her closer to your chest. “Thank you for being such a good girl yesterday, we’ll go home soon and get you some breakfast, don’t you worry” you cooed at her, petting her small, soft head. Looking around, you realised Xiaojun was still asleep, his chest steadily rising and falling with his breath, his expression looking unusually peaceful. A smirk emerged on your face as an idea popped into your head. “Hey Bella,” you whispered. “Why don’t we wake up Dejun huh?” Wiggling yourself to sit up slightly, you picked Bella up again and set her down right by Xiaojun’s face, and as you suspected, she began nuzzling against him, licking his face as she often did to you or Yangyang in the morning.

Xiaojun’s face twitched and his eyes flickered open as he responded to Bella’s attacks. “Wha-?!“ he started, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the light and he realised what was going on. “Oh, hey Bella.” Xiaojun chuckled, raising his hands in an attempt to pick Bella up and stop her from slobbering all over his face. You giggled and your heart swelled as you watched your new beau play with your doggo, not even mad she’d woken him up and witnessing this, you felt a sense of joy. You realised that giving Xiaojun a chance to show you his true self may have been one of the bet decisions you’d ever made, because right now, you were falling head over heels for him.

“Morning,” you laughed as Bella finally ceased her attacks, opting to curl up under the covers between the two of you while Xiaojun turned to you, realising you were awake already. “Heh, morning,” he said rolling over properly to look at you, reaching out to pet Bella. “Sorry about that,” you chuckled, absolutely not sorry at all. “She came in here and I couldn’t resist”. Xiaojun smiled. “Well there’s worse ways to wake up…” he uttered, gazing at you softly, his attention now all on you instead of Bella.

You stared back at him temporarily dazed by the romanticness of the moment and Xiaojun reached out, brushing a few stray hairs out of your face. “True…” you breathed, mentally scolding your heart for pounding so damn loud. It was a small gesture compared to the activities of last night, but nevertheless it sent your head spinning. With Bella snuggled between you and Xiaojun looking at you with such adoring eyes, you couldn’t help but imagine that this was exactly how life might be everyday if Xiaojun asked you to be his girlfriend, and you definitely didn’t dislike that idea, but there were certainly a few hurdles you needed to get over before that could happen. One being to tell Kun about your newfound relationship with the boy he despised and hope he didn’t try to throttle him or get him evicted.

“How are you feeling?” Xiaojun questioned as you sat up, pulling yourself out of your thoughts. Thankfully you needn’t feel self conscious as the comforter fell away, since Xiaojun had lent you one of his grey shirts to sleep in, wanting to make sure you were warm and comfortable. “Hm pretty good”, you hummed, not hiding the knowing smile that adorned your face. You knew exactly what he meant by that. Xiaojun mirrored your actions, sitting up as he spoke. “Well, I think that was a pretty good way to celebrate…” You giggled, “yeah, it was.”

Feeling Bella pawing at you again you sighed, realising you needed to get her home for food and take her out so she didn’t end up pooping in Xiaojun’s apartment. “I hate to leave, but this one needs feeding, and walking” you said, scooping Bella up in your arms. “Sure” Xiaojun replied lifting the covers to reveal his toned, tank-top clad torso, before climbing out of bed and slipping into his sliders. You followed suit, putting Bella back on the floor and proceeding to gather your belongings as Xiaojun helped, handing you your coat and pants. You didn’t bother changing, because it was only a flight of stairs back to yours and you knew Yangyang would be out, so you’d be able to slip back and into the shower without arousing suspicion.

Walking out into the living room you stuffed your clothes into the bag of toys and essentials you’d left for xiaojun to bring up for Bella which he’d already packed neatly away last night. “You got everything baby?” Xiaojun called from the kitchen island where he was filling up his water bottle. ‘Baby?’ You thought. You could get used to that. He’d said it a number of times last night, but hearing him call you that in such a relaxed context felt especially nice.

“I think so!” you replied cheerfully, slinging the bag over your shoulder. “If not you can come get it later” Xiaojun iterated, having gulped down some water, sauntering back over to you and stopping just in front of you, followed by a chipper looking Bella. “Yeah sure. Thanks again for looking after her” you said, pressing a small kiss to Xiaojun’s lips, before bending down to scoop Bella up so she didn’t have to negotiate the stairs on your way back down to your place. “No problem,” xiaojun replied modestly, walking with you to the door. “I’ll see you later then?” “Yeah, I have a couple days off, so just text me if you wanna hang out.” You replied, before Xiaojun gave you another kiss, Bella sandwiched between the two of you. “Sure” he said pulling away and opening the door for you. “Bye then!” you cheered, before heading back down the stairs to your apartment.

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[farfromsugafanfic]

Not So Silent Night

Genre: Quarantine Romance, slight Enemies To Lovers, Neighbors AU, Fluff, slight Angst

Pairing: Namjoon/ Reader

Warnings: none

Synopsis: Namjoon hadn’t intended to spend much time in his tiny apartment. And then a pandemic broke out. Now he’s stuck dealing with his noisy neighbor, you.

✦✧✦✧

Namjoon thought he was in the clear that Wednesday night. He'd heard the opening and closing of your front door, the clink of your keys in the lock, and the rustle of the groceries in your arms. He knew it was your Friday, which meant you'd usually turn on music while you cleaned your tiny apartment, or a play a movie on full blast while you devoured an entire pizza yourself.

It was nearly 9 pm and he hadn't heard a peep from you, not even the true crime podcast you sometimes put on. Namjoon, unlike you, had worked from home for months now. Even though most of his time at work was spent in his private studio, he had nearly an identical set up in his apartment.

He was still working, albeit, not on the songs he produced for other artists, but on his own. He'd just started editing the melody when heard the familiar bass chords of "What Makes You Beautiful". It was your favorite song to torture him with. Namjoon had nothing against the British boyband you seemed to love so much, that was until you started them playing them loudly at odd hours.

Namjoon sighed, pausing his work and rubbing his temples. He really needed to save up for a good pair of noise canceling headphones, although he wouldn't find it surprising if you somehow managed to invade his eardrums right away.

He tried to continue working, turning his headphones all the way up. Yet, all he could focus on was the way he heard the familiar bass line restart when the song ended.

Namjoon groaned and threw his headphones onto his desk. He'd only moved into this tiny apartment because the rent was cheap and he hadn't intended to spend much time in it. Then, a pandemic hit and suddenly, Namjoon was confined to four menacing white walls with the only company being his noisy neighbor, you.

He waited a half hour before he walked down the stairs to your apartment. Even though the city was under quarantine, the apartment building was snug and it was nearly impossible not to come into contact with each other. Securing his mask over his ear, he knocked on your door.

"Yes?" you asked, answering the door as if you'd been expecting him. You, too, had just finished looping the mask around your ear. It was a bright polka dot pattern that distracted Namjoon long enough that he managed to speak before noticing that your oversized T-shirt made it look like you weren't wearing shorts.

"Can you please keep it down, Y/N? It's the middle of the week for me and I have a Zoom call at 8 am tomorrow."

"That sounds like your problem," you said, leaving your door open as you tied the top of the trash bag you'd been getting ready to take out when Namjoon knocked.

A glint of annoyance passed over Namjoon's eyes and even from under your mask he could make out your familiar smirk from the way your eyebrows rose.

"Do you even own headphones?" he asked, crossing his arms. He didn't notice the way your eyes swept over his biceps and chest with his movement.

"They hurt my ears," you said, shrugging. Grabbing the trash bag by the tied top and heading back for your front door. "Now, be a doll and take this out for me? My legs hurt from work."

Namjoon looked at you with his eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. He didn't say anything as you shoved the bag into his hands.

"What? Why are looking at me like that?" you paused, dialing down your attitude for a moment. "Listen, if you do this, I'll turn it off so you can get your beauty sleep."

He watched as you reached up and pat his shoulder. Your nail polish was chipping and the gleam from your gold promise ring dulled. His eyes traced as your hand left the fabric of his T-shirt and came to the doorknob of your front door.

"Goodnight Namjoon," you said, shutting the door.

Namjoon stood in the hallway, his lips parted and a small breath. He scoffed as the familiar bassline blasted from your apartment.

✦✧✦✧

You'd had a long day. Work was keeping you at least an hour over every day and you felt your feet ache as slipped off your shoes. Even though you just wanted to fall into bed, you changed and washed your hands first, doing your best to feel clean before your skin hit the sheets. As a Pharmacy Technician, you were essential, and even if most of your job was counting pills and performing customer service, right now it was harder than ever.

With only ten hours until you had to be at work, you ordered food and eyed the laundry that was beginning to spill over the edge of the hamper like waves over a jetty. You sighed, taking out your phone and putting on music. You gathered up your clothes and laundry soap. Pocketing your keys and a handful of quarters dug out of the bottom of your purse, you made your way to the basement laundry room.

You let the music play. While you weren't particularly trying to get your tall neighbor's attention, or get on his nerves, like you usually were, you secretly hoped you'd get to catch a glimpse of his signature white T-shirt against his bronzed skin.

Loading your clothes into the shared washer, your phone began to ring and your boyfriend's face flashed across the screen. He was smiling widely in the picture, his hair swept back by the coastal breeze. At one point, it had been your favorite photo of him. Now, it just felt like a sweet apple that turned out to be poison.

You ignored the call and poured the detergent into the machine. Inserting the quarters, you heard footsteps coming down the stairs. You'd heard his feet on the stairs enough, that you recognized the soft one, two pattern as he made his way downstairs.

"I think the whole complex knows you're a fan of One Direction now," Namjoon said, coming into view. His hands were empty, having obviously come down purely because of your disruption.

"So be it," you said, starting the machine and glancing down as the music stopped and your phone rang again. You frowned as you rejected the call.

Namjoon noticed, his brow furrowing as his eyes glanced down at the phone in your hand. "You should've answered. At least you'd be less of a bother."

The two calls and the exhaustion weighed you down and felt yourself drifting below the surface. "I'm really not in the mood right now, Namjoon. Maybe tomorrow."

His sarcastic smile faltered. "If you don't want me to bother you, then don't play your music so loud." He crossed his arms over his chest, his muscles becoming more prominent as the fabric of his T-shirt stretched to accommodate the new position. You had no idea how he stayed so toned with the apartment gym shut down and such a small apartment.

"Maybe you should invest in earplugs."

"Maybe you should invest in headphones."

You scoffed and headed back upstairs, not feeling the banter. Your neck and shoulders were tense and you just wanted to finish your laundry and pass out for the night.

✦✧✦✧

Namjoon didn't think much of your sour mood. It was obvious that it extended beyond him since you rejected the phone call. He stood in the laundry room for a few moments and watched your laundry spin around in the washer.

He remembered back to the week before when you forced him to take out your garbage. A thought crossed his mind and he wondered if a good prank would lift your spirits.

With most coin operated washers, the doors locked right after the money is inserted and the washer starts. The ones at your apartment complex, however, had a loophole. Hitting the coin return button a few times, the quarters you'd entered fell into the coin return and the machine slowed to a stop.

Waiting a few moments to make sure you weren't coming back, he opened the door and took your wet clothes out of the dryer. He pocketed the coins, reminding himself to use them for your clothes later. Setting them on top of the washer, he rushed up to his apartment and grabbed his own laundry, starting it.

✦✧✦✧

The timer went off a half hour later. You were halfway through eating dinner but paused to go switch loads. You knew between your boyfriend' incessant calls and the hour long drying cycle, you were not going to get to sleep any time soon.

Shuffling down to the laundry room, you didn't even bother to throw on music this time. The heaviness in your eyes wouldn't be cured with Harry's sweet voice as usual.

Opening the door to the washer, your clothes were not there. A stroke of panic ran down your spine as your eyes darted across the row of washers, wondering if you had gone to the wrong one. All the other doors were open. You felt a stirring in your stomach as your mind raced with what to do.

"Lose something?"

You turned to see Namjoon coming down the stairs, carrying a laundry basket full of your wet clothes. Your heart beat out of your chest, your vision went black as your mind processed the sight.

"What the fuck, Namjoon?" you asked, yanking the basket from him. Tears came to your eyes as you looked down at the sopping wet clothes.

Namjoon's eyes widened at his words, having expected a snarky quip from you, he released his grip on the basket easily. Fishing for the quarters in his pocket, he held them out to you.

"God, I'm gonna get absolutely no sleep tonight," you said, shoving your half washed clothes back into the washer.

"Y/N?" he asked, his voice soft. "What's wrong?"

Once you'd restarted the washer, placing your body physically in front of it to block Namjoon from tampering with it once again, you eyed him.

"I'm only gonna get a few hours of sleep," you said, your voice surprisingly level. "My work clothes are in there." You leaned back against the washer, sighing as you looked down at the time on your phone.

"I-I'm--"

"Save it, Namjoon," you said. "Listen, I know we have this sort of relationship where we mess with each other. But, I'm really not in the mood for it tonight."

Namjoon tried to move towards you, but stopped himself, unsure of exactly what he was going to do or how he could help. He'd never seen you like this before. Dark circles around your eyes, your hair stringy and tousled from running your hands through it, and your posture so tense. Even though the lower half of your face was covered with a bright green mask, he could still make out your frown behind the fabric.

"Just le--" You were cut off by your phone's vibration.

Despite Namjoon having caused your distress, whoever kept calling you made your brow furrow and eyes water in a way that left Namjoon wanting to answer the phone and find out what they had done to you.

"Is everything okay?" he asked. "Who keeps calling you?"

Glancing down at the washer it had now moved onto the second cycle, you ignored. Meeting Namjoon's eyes, it hurt your chest to see the concern in them. After seeing you like this, after getting annoyed with him, he still worried about you.

"Just leave me alone, Namjoon."

✦✧✦✧

It was midnight on Wednesday night when the sound of yelling overtook the melody in his headphones. At first, he didn't think much of it. Many couples lived in the complex, and an occasional fight wasn't uncommon. Then, he heard your voice.

✦✧✦✧

"Jae-ho, what are you doing here? I told you you couldn't come."

"I just want to see you, baby." There was a softness in his voice, but it didn't reach his eyes. You'd been dodging his calls and texts for the past few days, hoping he would get the hint.

"Not until your test comes back negative," you said. "Plus, we really shouldn't be seeing each other that much. Especially since I'm still working."

Your boyfriend let out a long sigh and moved to walk inside. You blocked him, shutting the door slightly and wedging yourself in the gap. This only made him more frustrated, his hands reaching out to touch you.

You let him, allowing his hand to brush your own. You knew it was unlikely your boyfriend would get a positive result, his exposure limited and brief. But you couldn't risk it.

"Are you not scared of spreading it to me? To anyone?"

"I don't have it, babe. I've told you."

"You were still required to get tested. And since I see so many vulnerable people at work, I can't risk it." This wasn't the first time this was an issue. You'd been tested twice already. You job required you to come into contact with people all day, and more than a few confirmed cases had come through your pharmacy.

Jae-ho had had an issue those times too. Coming over when you'd told him not to, calling you until he got sick of dialing your number. You weren't sure how much longer you could take this.

"Are you cheating on me?"

The question lingered in the air as your mouth fell open in shock. Did he think that was the only reason you could not want to see him?

"No, of course not! I'm trying to protect you, Jae-ho!"

"I know you like that neighbor of yours. You still see him, don't you? Why do you see him and not me?"

"We're neighbors! This complex is so tiny, we can't help it!"

Your voice and his gradually rose with your emotions. You barely remember what either of you said after that, you only remembering sliding the promise ring off your finger and flinging it down the stairs.

✦✧✦✧

Namjoon walked down the stairs when he heard your door slam. He came upon your boyfriend, scoffing at your door. When he met the other man's eyes, Namjoon's immediately narrowed.

"Of course," Jae-ho said. He shook his head and walked down the stairs, pausing at the next landing. He bent down to retrieve something and Namjoon stopped focusing on the other man, reaching up to knock on your door.

Namjoon's knuckles didn't even make contact with your door before he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Jae-ho stood a few steps down and held out the gold promise ring you always wore.

"Give this back to Y/N," he said. "I don't want it either."

He handed Namjoon the ring before turning around and leaving for good.

✦✧✦✧

"Y/N?" Namjoon's voice cut through the dark silence of your apartment. You'd everything outside, but not realized that it was Namjoon Jae-ho was talking to. "Are you okay?

You opened the door. You tried to wipe your tears before Namjoon could take in your figure, but it was fruitless. When your eyes met his, you saw his heartbreaking at the sight of you.

"I'm okay."

"No, you're not," Namjoon said, waiting for you to give the okay for him to enter your apartment. You knew that there was no hiding from Namjoon. The two of you literally lived on top of one another and saw each other almost daily when you did the laundry or took the trash out. There was nearly no way to avoid Kim Namjoon for long.

You moved aside and closed the door behind him. Flopping down on your bed, you looked up at him. "Sorry if we woke you up."

Namjoon shook his head. "You didn't."

"Sorry to interrupt your work then," you said, feeling like you owed the man an apology for more than just this one night. "I didn't mean for it to escalate like that."

Namjoon didn't say anything. He glanced around your apartment, sensing the way that his eyes on you made you uncomfortable.

"You don't need to apologize," he said. "For anything."

You stayed silent, hugging a pillow to your chest.

The silence wasn't tense, but it wasn't calm either. There was something lingering between you. Something keeping Namjoon in your apartment after making sure you were okay. And something that allowed you to let him in at all.

"You know, whenever I was upset or I had trouble sleeping. My mom would always make me milk and cookies. It seems counterintuitive that something sugary helped me sleep. But it never failed."

Namjoon left for his apartment for a moment, coming back with a package of chocolate chip cookies and two glasses of milk. He handed you one of the glasses and sat the package of cookies down beside you.

"Is it okay if I stick around? Just in case your boyfriend tries to come back," Namjoon said. He knew his explanation was flimsy. It was obvious when the man left that he did not intend on coming back.

"Yes," you said, reaching to pull out a cookie and dip it in the milk. "I'd like that."

The two of you ate in silence. Silence rarely occurred when you saw Namjoon, no matter how much he may want it to, but now, you could tell by the tension in his shoulders that it worried him.

"You know, I kinda look forward to hearing you every night," he said. "Lets me take a break from my work. Means I get to come see you."

You chuckled, smiling for the first time that night. "Why do you think I was always loud?" The crunch of a cookie filled your pause. "I knew you would always come complain."

✦✧✦✧

"I have a present for you, Y/N," Namjoon said.

It was the holidays now. Your family was far away and none of you wanted to get on a plane. It saddened you that you wouldn't be able to see your family, but Namjoon had become your solace. He'd usually hear when you got home and about ten minutes later, he'd appear at your door, asking what you were having for dinner that night. Most of the time, you ate together.

It was just like all those other nights, except you didn't have to work the next morning. Namjoon had met you by your door, takeout in hand, and a backpack slung over his shoulder.

Namjoon reached into his backpack and pulled out a wrapped package. The paper was a bit wrinkled, indicating he'd wrapped it himself. It made you smile.

"Oh, wait," you said, getting up and walking to the closet where you pulled out a similarly wrapped package. You handed it to him and looked down at his gift for you.

Tearing off the paper, you laughed when you noticed it was headphones. They were expensive too, which made your stomach turn thinking that he spent so much money on you.

"Open the box," he said, a smug smile on his face.

You ripped open the box, finding crumpled up paper. You felt around until you felt a thin object. Pulling it out. you found a CD.

"It's a mixtape. For you." Namjoon's eyes wandered around the room. "I--uh--hope you'll play it like you do One Direction."

You flung your arms around him, but he stopped you. "There's something else."

You looked down at the box quizzically before you began pulling out the paper. Reaching inside, you felt what you immediately recognized as a ring. Thoughts ran through your mind as you pulled it out.

It was your promise ring from Jae-ho, shinier than when you had last seen it. "He wanted me to give it back to you. But, I knew it might be painful. I had it cleaned and engraved for you."

You turned the ring to see the engraving on the inside: Be Loud - KNJ

[vminity21]

Wishes instead of Weeds | jhs

Pairing: DanceTeacher!Hoseok x Waitress!Reader, Pharmacist!Jeongguk x Female!Reader

Word Count: 22,502

Genre: angst/fluff/romance/smut

Warning(s): angst involving heartbreak, strong language use, mention of alcohol, eventual smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, breast worship, smutty kissing, potential slow burn? Rated: M

Summary: After an unexpected breakup, you find yourself living day by day wanting nothing more than to be happy again. Though your best friend M and your co-workers bring a smile to your face, the restaurant's regular, Jung Hoseok, happens to be a new light that shines in your life even though you don't realize it at first. 

The corner of a faded picture is pressed between your fingertips before thumbing away at some clustered debris covering his face. “Shit,” you whisper between grit teeth, letting your jeans slip from your lap to lightly plop upon the ground. Laundry has been finished hence why the discovery of the picture being found in the pocket brings a wince of pain considering it is one of the few memories you have of the two of you. Your grip loosens to where the photo sways landing face down on the table, your palms sliding along your face and into your hair, sniffling back whatever tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

Jeongguk left you without any warning.

It’s been a few weeks, but the blow to the chest still feels as fresh as it did the night you came home from an already eventful day at work, stepping into the kitchen, curling your fingers around the handle of the fridge to notice upon opening it that he still hadn’t eaten his leftovers from his favorite restaurant the pair of you frequented a few evenings prior. In fact, your eyebrows creased when you remembered he never came home last night, nor was he in bed when you awoke that morning to chilly covers and a strange feeling harboring your heart. The burning question prompted you to trail to your room, seeing a letter laying crinkled at the end of the exposed mattress.

You would think you would have panicked, dialing his number countless times until he answered, or even sent a bundle of text messages begging him to tell you where he is- if he’s okay, but knowing how he is a man of space, you did nothing of the sort. None of it changed the way your heart shattered into a million pieces when the words stared back at you, haunting you every night sparking more questions than you wanted to deal with. Nothing prepared you for the endless dread of nausea and the empty feeling consuming your entire being, or the loss of his presence mingled with the hopeless dream of him reappearing to tell you he’s sorry for what he’d done to you. But, there’s nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Hugging your knees to your chest, a faint aroma of his cologne wafts from his jacket hung over the chair across from you. Uncertain of why it had been thrown into the trash, you couldn’t bear to let it go to waste, so instead, it now remains in your vision in hopes of being reunited with its rightful owner. And even now, as tears drip from your chin, you ponder on where everything went wrong, only to find not one answer to reveal itself. There was hardly any fighting. If there were to be a time where the pair of you disagreed upon a matter, Jeongguk would lace your fingers with his, sit you down to discuss the topic at hand. It always resulted in loving grins before he’d lean in to feather a small kiss to your lips.

He told you he loved you as he always did which never incited any suspicions, and though he had his moments of distance, that had never been anything new to you because in the few years of being his girlfriend, he had the days that he wanted to himself in which you gladly let him have. Every decision made, even if it involved a situation as simple as picking a place to eat, both of you would name three places of choice and if a mutual restaurant was said aloud, that would be the result of the evening. Conversation, from what you can decipher, may have dimmed partially, but not much exciting has happened to really talk about other than the promotions of each of your jobs. Hence why there was a celebration at Jeongguk’s favorite restaurant.

You have replayed every scenario from the beginning of the relationship to the end over and over in a relentless loop to the unhealthy point that a slight thud of a headache creates. How can someone leave their significant other, whom they claim they love, without a reason behind it? Even if their reasoning wouldn’t make any sense, at least they have a reason to share. Feeling weak, you rest your chin on your knees, the wrinkled letter that was left for you to find has been placed upon the table only a short distance from the photo you were holding. ‘I’m sorry,’ is scribbled directly in the center of the paper.

Jeongguk never had anything to be sorry for in your mind, until now. With a long, shaky exhale, you use the hem of your sleeve to dry your face, gradually standing to your feet with the intention of putting away the folded laundry to then arranging for bed. Due to your promotion, you’re thankful to discover that you will be making enough money to at least pay the bills for the apartment; with the sudden change of being alone that was one of your top concerns, also not wanting your mother to find out knowing she would send you money immediately. You want to avoid the confession of the breakup, too, because you do not want to feel like a burden to anyone, even if you may have felt that way to him, though you’re not sure if you will ever know. Robotically, the next hour achingly completes before you slip under the sheets, hoping that your day tomorrow will bring you at least a tad bit of strength.

Strong scents of coffee and bacon greet your nose as it does every morning when you arrive at your job that you happen to call your second home. A family member of yours owns the diner that daintily sits off the side of the road surrounded by a recently mowed lawn, and rustic flowerpots gifted by people of the town where a florist visits to ensure the plants will be watered. You’ve always loved the aura of the area, especially with the way people seemed to treat each other, and despite your title being a waitress, which Jeongguk’s parents used to shame until he had stood up for you, you do receive good benefits here. Patting your chest frantically, the rectangular piece of your nametag is felt which relieves you that you hadn’t forgotten about it this morning, bringing enough distraction from the inner heartache you’re trying to suppress.

Clocking in, you briskly scoop up a notepad, helping your co-workers with the breakfast rush; you were promoted to being the assistant manager since you’ve been waitressing here for many years, and thankfully your shifts end at 5:30 pm when your relative takes over, giving you the evenings to yourself. You are mainly responsible for keeping the shelves stocked- placing orders for whatever supplies are needed as well as handling the drawers to ensure the money count is accurate. When you notice one of the employees, Park Jimin is waiting one of the only tables left once the crowd minimizes momentarily, you saunter to the kitchen to check on the chefs since you unfortunately missed greeting them this morning.

“Hey, [Y/N]!” Chef Von says, his puffy cheeks squinting his eyes from how wide he’s smiling- he slaps slabs of meat onto the grill, the sizzling sound popping in your ears, “Are you ready for today?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be!” You reply, squeezing his large shoulder, “What about you?”

“Always,” he chuckles, taking tongs to lightly press the meat harder onto the crackling grill. Another chef, Kim Seokjin, is working on shoving pans of biscuits into the oven, then turning to slice some fruit set off to the side while the dough bakes. Your number one priority when given the chance upon starting your shift is checking on every employee to ensure they’re okay. When all give positive answers, you shuffle behind one of the main counters when first walking into the building to see if any customers need refills. The ding of the door alerts you once you pour a mug of coffee for an individual sitting off to the side, your gaze averting to recognize the tall, thin figure of the restaurant’s regular, Jung Hoseok, hands cuddled into the pockets of his coat, swiftly stepping to the same seat at the counter he occupies every single morning.

A small grin tugs at the corner of your lips, “Long time no see,” you tease, watching the brief tilt of his head that follows a contagious smile, “You want your usual?”

He’s still chuckling, ears bent slightly from the pressure of his cap hiding the majority of his curly hair that peeks enough to decorate his forehead, “You know me so well,” he caves into your joke, clasping his hands together after resting his arms on the counter. Steaming coffee is currently being poured in a mug which you then serve him, “Thank you,” he says, nodding once.

“Of course!” You maintain a cheery façade despite how empty you feel inside, and partly paying attention to what you just jotted down, you place the ticket for Hoseok’s order on the spinning scale before Seokjin swipes it to get started. You divert yourself into cleaning tables that are now vacant from customers, getting lost in the fifteen minutes of helping your co-workers; stacking a pile of plates into your hands you spin on a heel in the direction of the kitchen when someone outside the windows of the restaurant causes you to pause in shock, the plates slipping from your hands where they clash and bang into numerous shattered pieces on the tile floor. Biting your tongue to prevent from cursing, panic overwhelms you while a deep shade of red crimsons your cheeks and chest, sweat perspiring the lining of your forehead from the tension of stares not leaving your frame. By mistake, you thought you saw… But it wasn’t him at all. Jogging to retrieve a broom and dustpan, you sweep the glass shards as efficient as you can, until the silhouette of a co-worker, enters your peripherals.

“Are you okay?” Your best friend, Monica, who you normally call M, asks once you’re a quarter of the way into cleaning.

“Ye-yeah. Yeah,” you stutter, trying to ignore the evident humiliation planted within your expression. M investigates the way your widened eyes have yet to calm, seeing right through your reply.

“I think you need to take a few minutes to breathe,” she offers, and when you can’t seem to clear your head enough to listen, she lightly touches your wrist, “[Y/N], it’s okay, I’ll finish up. Go ahead, take a moment.”

You meet her eyes before nodding in defeat, your quivering chin is enough to tell her that you really haven’t been okay, though she’s unaware of why. The warmth of outside is enough to soothe your skin, your feet determined to make it to one of the picnic tables located on the side of the restaurant where gratefully not a soul happens to be inhabiting. In frustration, you’ve done well masking the truth underlying your hollow smile, or so you thought, but dropping onto the bench, you bury your face in your hands blocking out the crying you fight to hold back.

“Hey…” A tender voice belonging to that of a male springs your gaze up from your stiff hands, shoulders slumping in relief to see it’s Hoseok, though concern clouds his almond eyes.

“I’m- I’m sorry. I hope all that noise didn’t disturb your breakfast,” you apologize, clearly embarrassed, though your grin doesn’t reach your eyes.

Hoseok’s lips part, “No, not at all, in fact, I came to see if you were okay,”

“I am,” you lie because really you are nowhere close to it, but knowing Hoseok made his way to come check on you really means a lot; him being a customer for two years, it’s not like he’s completely a stranger, so at least there’s not any awkward tension.

“Okay, well I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to sit here until you’re okay,” he says, swinging his thin leg over the seat across from you.

“But- but I am okay-” Obviously caught off guard, Hoseok holds an index finger up to stop you,

“Your nametag is upside down.”

“Huh-” Eyes falling to where your nametag is clipped, you mentally scold yourself because although you felt to make sure you hadn’t forgotten it this morning, you didn’t even think to check to make sure you had placed it correctly, “How did I miss that?” You mutter.

“Also, you’ve been chewing on your lips nonstop since you’ve been here today,” he mentions, you clamping your lips in a firm line when you realize you have been giving them a good gnawing, a habit you only do when under extreme stress. “And,” his gaze flickers to the tip of his converse scraping against the pavement, “I always order a side of pancakes with chocolate syrup. But today I got French toast instead.”

Oh shit, you gasp, eyes widening in horror because the name of the person you do not want to speak of- his favorite is French toast which you accidentally wrote on Hoseok’s order without even realizing. “Oh my gosh, Hoseok,” you pinch the bridge of your nose in shame, “I am so, so sorry. I can’t believe I did that,”

“My point,” he leans forward holding your eyes where worry for your wellbeing hasn’t diminished, “[Y/N]? Are you okay?”

Sadness drowns your mind prompting a brief sigh to brush over your dry lips. Hoseok watches you, and while you concentrate on how overwhelming everything has been, there are details about you he’s noticed that you wouldn’t even notice about yourself; Hoseok is known to be very observant, in some cases, it is a blessing more than a curse, especially when it comes to people he is interested in. With steady hands, you rest them on the picnic table, the cycle of notions running a thousand miles per minute.

When the slam of a car door interrupts the moment, you direct your attention to the sound. A male, with gray strands of hair complimenting a black headband, fumbles with his keys pressing a button that signifies the locking of his car. In one hand, he’s holding what looks like a bouquet of roses; his black sweatshirt brightening the deep shade of red in the sunlight. Your eyes blink to the entrance of the restaurant where you see M, with her palms to her face, jump with excitement as she runs to the man, throwing her arms around his neck. You can’t help the happy flutter in your heart as you watch the guy tighten his arms around her back burying his head into her purple hair, cherishing every second of her as the two sway from side to side.

Memories of…. The person you do not want to name comes to mind, reminding you of the days you realized you were falling in love with him where moments of doses involving the tip of your nose buried into the crook of his warm collar. You catch Hoseok looking back at the adorable couple still enveloped in each other’s embrace, then reverting to glimpse at you. Meeting his gape, but only for a second, you look down towards your frail hands, ignoring the sudden urge to cry, “No,” you murmur, “No, I’m not okay.”

M pulls away, her smile joyous, accepting the bundle of roses. The guy rests his hand on her cheek leaning in for a kiss. You wonder who he is, especially since M has never mentioned a boyfriend, at least not around you, but you inwardly voice that you haven’t been very talkative as of late either. Regardless, your heart melts for her as you watch the couple hand in hand walk into the restaurant.

“Hey,” Hoseok’s tone is endearing- the kind you hear before someone pats the back of your hand in a way to make things seem better. Your heart is so broken, the cheery frontage you have been faking is slowly unzipping, exposing a layer of you that you didn’t want anyone to see.

“I’m-I’m sorry, Hoseok,” you stand to your feet avoiding eye contact, using your palms to smooth out your uniform. “I should get back to work.” Power walking to the entrance of your job, you do not look back, even though you feel guilty for dodging someone who was doing nothing more than being polite. Prolonged stares of your coworkers are a given, especially with how close-knit everyone is, but you can’t let that distract you from your work, so until the end of your shift rolls around, you help take orders to get caught up. It’s all a blur when you find yourself in your car, tentatively focusing on the drive home to when you safely park.

The light is dimming outside and once you turn the key in the ignition, the engine silences, and you lean back in your seat, closing your eyes as you swallow the lump building in your throat. Just call him, those words have echoed various times since Jeongguk’s disappearance, yet you can’t seem to collect enough courage to dial his number. Excuses swarm in your mind; he’s probably busy, maybe he’s with his family, maybe he’s at work; and, you haven’t been able to put how much you wish you knew how he’s been doing to rest; honestly, not much of anything involving him has been put to rest, because how can any closure come from something so hurtful such as this? As much as you want to be angry right now, you can’t bring yourself to be, especially with how much you agonizingly miss him. When you open your eyes, you let out a long exhale through your nose trying to calm the nerves stemming beneath your chest.

You can’t take this anymore. You just need to do it. You need to call him. You need to hear his voice no matter how much it destroys you. No more dithering, you grab your phone, sifting through your contacts until you land on his name. In one quick second, you click it, the screen igniting to show it is dialing. Raising the phone to your ear, you swallow, your mouth uncomfortably dry; your fingertips ice cold while you anxiously wait, each dial pounding in unison with the headache that is now forming. C’mon Guk, C'mon, you interiorly plead, tears glistening in the corner of your eyes, squeezing them shut.

“Hello, this is Jeon Jeongguk, sorry I couldn’t take your call-”

“Damnit!” you wail, hanging up abruptly, tossing your phone into the passenger side. That is the first you’ve heard him speak rounding up to a month, and though no one is watching, your hands hover over your face where you choke out breathy sobs, wishing you never attempted to call. He must think you’re weak, you torture yourself with mindless insecurities, but still, where is he? Which then sparks the next question, do you really want to know? What feels to make matters worse is how you profusely wish he was just here. Right next to you where you used to think he belonged- holding your hand in his especially on nights where you needed his comfort most. None of this makes any sense, because where in the world did you go wrong? Why does this all make you feel like this is completely your fault? What if he ever says you hadn’t tried hard enough? What if-?

The vibration of your phone causes you to jolt, your heart thrumming in your temples as your eyes glued to the phone light reflecting in your car window. With careful hands, you reach for the device, turning it to see who is calling. A sigh of relief fills you when you see the initial M staring back at you. Snorting back as much mucus as you can, you wipe under your eyes one final time before answering.

“Hello,��� you wince at the stuffy noise of your voice hoping M doesn’t notice.

“You are the nosiest, inquisitive, you-better-tell-me-now-before-I-cut-you, woman I have ever known, and yet you didn’t ask one- Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m sorry, M,” your laughter is hoarse, “I didn’t mean to ignore you today. But yes. Yes, I would like to know who this man of yours is,” you sniff, the tear stains feeling sticky on your reddened cheeks. “Now, tell me.”

“Not until you get your ass over here,”

“But-”

“I’ve got wine.” She teases; her persuasive, chirpy voice echoing on the line. “Besides, it’s been a while since we’ve had some girl time. So, I suggest you hurry over here before I down this entire bottle!”

“I’m on my way.” You change into some comfy clothes before you leave, arriving in record time, M greeting you at her door dawned in yoga pants and a black sweatshirt which you wonder is from the mystery man who visited her at work earlier today.

“Who’s is that?” you pester, descending onto a bar stool sitting in front of M’s marble counter, the cool material blanketing your arms where you choose to lay them. She shoots you a playful glance, her purple hair covering the fronts of her shoulders.

“Yoongi’s,” she coos, her eyes averting to timidly browsing at the open bottle of red wine.

“Ah, Yoongi? How cute.”

“Oh, shut up,” she pours the both of you a glass, the two of you making cheers before taking a few sips, letting the strong taste pool on your tongue before swallowing.

“Now,” you say, setting your glass down for a moment, “Confess.”

M shakes her head, rolling her eyes before she takes another sip, “We dated in middle school.” Raising your eyebrows in interest, you nod for her to continue. “He ended up moving away, so of course being 12 and broke, we had no choice but to break up.” Her fingers ghost her wine glass to play with the strings at the neckline of the sweatshirt while reminiscing upon her story, “Crazy enough, a few months ago, he got back in touch with me, and I learned that he’s attending University in our town. He’s rooming with his childhood best friend right now. It just amazes me that he remembered me after all this time.”

“You’re the first person he thought of,” you remark.

“Yeah,” she sighs dreamily, her light shade of brown eyes sparkles in the kitchen light, “he surprised me today because his professor canceled class. It’s funny how it works, you know? Love happens when you least expect it.”

And, so does heartbreak, you force a smile to yourself after a long gulp of the bitter liquid, your eyes staring at your hand now cupping the glass, clinking it carefully with your fingernails, you try to shun any thoughts of…. from your mind without any luck. “[Y/N]?” M’s voice is soft and you’re not sure how long you’ve been zoned out, but you smile at her apologetically. “I’ve been quite worried about you lately. You haven’t been your buoyant self, so what gives?”

“I’m sorry, just a little tired.”

There’s a mini pause, one where M gathers her words before choosing to continue, “You know you never answered me earlier.” She mentions, and you chew at your lips as a canopy of guilt floods your vision. You still haven’t told a soul about the breakup, and M is your closest friend and coworker, and you can’t help feeling ashamed for keeping this from her. “And noting the dried dot of mascara on your cheek, I know something’s up.” Your fingertips fly to your face. “Other side,” and you move your hand to rub harshly at the skin.

“Thank you,” you whisper, bringing your fingertips to your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut while a stab of pain enters your already tainted heart. “He left,” is all you can muster, flinching at the thought of his name. Realization commences M’s expression because her eyes widen, her mouth forming an “O” shape in the reaction to how much she did not expect your words.

“Oh [Y/N], I am so sorry. I had no idea-”

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I haven’t told anyone… Not even my mom,” you confess- the rest of the wine in your glass calling your name as you try to prevent your heart from crashing again.

“Did he-?” M begins, her eyebrows furrowed in concern, and even though cheating is a potential possibility on the list of why people breakup, you grimace, not wanting to let the thought consume you.

“No. I don’t- I don’t know. He just left without any explanation.”

“What?” M murmurs in disbelief, “I never thought-”

“Me neither,” you down the rest of the wine from your glass not wanting to speak of the situation any longer; as an alternative, you gesture for M to pour you some more. She hesitates at first but dispenses the crimson beverage anyways.

“You know we have work tomorrow,” she reminds you though you engulf your second glass without delay since the buzz you’re gaining lightens the load weighing heavy on your soul.

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” you whine, clumsily reaching for the wine bottle, M grasping it away from you.

“No, ma’am. For someone who barely drinks, you sure are determined to steal it all.”

“It’s for a good cause,”

“Nah- ah!” M taps your hand away after your third attempt, “Your sanity is important. Now, go lay down. If there’s anything you really need, it’s a good night’s sleep.”

You groan, “Why do you have to be such a good friend,” you sag, M rounding the counter to put an arm underneath your shoulders.

“Because I am the bee’s knees.” She banters, helping you relax onto the couch. She leaves the room temporarily, bringing back a blanket to lay over your exhausted frame. “Goodnight, you drunk.” She teases when you sluggishly peer up at her.

“Goodnight, you killjoy.”

“Hey, you’ll thank me when you awaken without a splitting headache.”

“And, I’ll believe it when I arise from this couch at seven in the AM.”

She makes it to the entrance leading into the hallway to her bedroom while you cuddle into the blanket with immense appreciation; M pauses to look behind her shoulder at you, laughter echoing throughout the tiny living room. After a moment, gratitude overcomes you. “Thank you for tonight,” you beam, thankful to have a friend like her. M is the reason you make it through your shifts a hundred percent of the time; even on days like this when you feel so desolate, and you can’t even see the positivity right in front of you, M knows how to bring the best out of you, hence why the two of you have been stuck like glue since the day you met.

She holds your gaze, “Always… And [Y/N]?”

“Hm,” you grunt groggily, feeling the heavy flutters of your eyelids begging for slumber, but your ears perk enough, especially when M’s next words bring hushed tears to your tired eyes.

“You’ll get through this; I have no doubt. Whatever is going on, he made his choice. He’s running from this because he’s ashamed of something.”

Though the words echo in the night, they place themselves into your conscious until you drift into sleep- He’s running from this because he’s ashamed of something- and when dreams start to encompass your conscious, by some miracle you forget- you forget about the person who originally had been on your mind.

The following morning, you almost do not recognize where you are when your groggy eyelids open just enough to realize you are laterally pressed upon the couch of M’s; shadows of plants decorated throughout the living room clear into your peripherals once you shift your weight to lay onto your back. Uncertain of the time, you’re aware it’s way too early to prepare for work, but you also regret not packing a bag last night although you didn’t quite plan to drink as much as you did. For now, you stare at the ceiling, counting the imaginary stars you wish would align to a brighter path versus the sadness returning to plague your heart yet again.

He hadn’t appeared in your dreams this time, which alludes to the pondering question of why. Figuring it may have to do with not waking up in your bedroom, where he used to lay beside you, could potentially be the daunting reason, and you swallow the budding lump in your throat pleading with your memories to stay repressed as much as possible, but it’s no use. Jeongguk used to slip his strong arm around you every night, his solid chest pressed to your back before he’d touch a slow, warm kiss to your temple that sent tingles across your skin. And, it was always your safe place. The one part of your day that you always looked forward to, where his closeness brought you some form of peace that you needed. But… now that you think of it, he discontinued that routine maybe within the last six months before he fled, and the realization makes you want to beat yourself up for ignoring what could have been the biggest sign that something hadn’t been right.

This isn’t your fault.

Automatically, you squeeze your eyes shut before rubbing them roughly with your fingertips, begging to stop this nonsense of blaming yourself. You know this isn’t your fault, yet the pain doesn’t fade away enough to find some form of relief. It’s then, you rush to your feet, folding M’s blanket to nestle into the corner of the couch before slipping on your shoes and grabbing onto your keys and wallet before quietly treading out the door. There’s just enough time to throw in a quick shower before performing your daily morning list the second you reach your home- freshening up until you eventually find yourself in the driver’s seat, slowly turning the key until the roar of your car awakens.

You remember him like it was yesterday. Or every yesterday in between. Where he placed his large hand on your thigh as you kept your laughing eyes on the road. Every song that came on the radio, Jeongguk would sing to, holding his bunny smile while you cheered him on, letting his vibrato whisk you away into a giddy world where you hoped and prayed it would never end. But it did, you want to scream in pure frustration, because it seems no matter where or what you do, everything reminds you of him. And it’s not fucking fair. The lining of your jaw tenses when you notice the gritting of your teeth, and the stiff way your hands grip the steering wheel as you drive. It’s not like you can help it with the breakup still being so fresh, but you wish time would heal much faster than how it’s been in the last month.

Smoky smells of savory meat waft in the air while your shoes crunch along the gravel lot; few cars are parked meaning the morning crowd hasn’t officially arrived, so with quick precision, you clock in, bursting into the kitchen to greet the chefs who are in the process of chopping vegetables in fast motion against large cutting boards.

“I still don’t get how you two do that without cutting your fingers off,” you tease, eyes widening as they slice- shaking your head in disbelief.

Seokjin shrugs, “Practice makes perfect,” his plump lips form an eloquent smirk before gesturing his clear-gloved hand to reveal a few small scars etched on some of his fingers.

“When you’ve been in the business as long as I have, it becomes second nature,” Chef Von’s smile causes his eyes to crinkle at the corners, evident gray hairs shimmer in his trimmed sideburns as he glances down to retrieve more ingredients to cut.

“Well, before I am tempted to see if I can chop some onions at the speed of light, I’m going to take some orders,” turning on a heel to leave the kitchen, Seokjin and Von’s chuckles reverberate behind you, reminding you of how thankful you are for every one of your coworkers. They are your family, which is something you treasure- sending a quick hello to waitress LenLen and waiter Jimin, they rush past to gather whatever was asked of them by their tables. You’re so distracted, you almost miss the brush of M’s shoulder as she ambles past- her way of saying hi after she clocks in, and you smile to yourself as you watch your best friend sprint to take the first table in her section’s order.

It takes a second before you round the counter to make a fresh brew of coffee, refilling an elderly man’s mug, before your eyes raise to see the figure of Jung Hoseok entering the restaurant- the jingle of the doorbell foggy within your ears when a pang of guilt hits your chest at the memory of yesterday. Being you are a professional at your job, you welcome him as though you don’t feel any awkward tension you typically are overthinking, “How are you this morning?” You ask, pouring him a steaming cup of the liquid, carefully sliding it towards him without spilling droplets of the content.

“Dandy!” He chuckles, his thin fingers curling around the handle as he takes a seat.

“Hey, that’s a great answer!” You smile, scribbling the correct order before spinning to pin it where Seokjin can see it.

“Hello, Hoseok!” M bellows, rushing past with a pitcher of water, “Funny seeing you here!”

“Hello to you too, Monnie!”

“Oh my word,” you giggle at her scurried state, “She’s a trooper I tell you,” you admire how hard she works, especially with how many tables she’s willing to tackle at once, and she never once complains.

“How are you?” There’s a concern in his tone that matches his eyes when you give him a knowing look pooling with culpability from when you rudely dodged him. Quickly dropping your gaze, you nervously check your nametag, appreciating that you put it on properly today, then returning his stare with a gentle grin.

“I’m doing well, thank you,”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he says genuinely, and though what you said is partly a lie, the other half of you doesn’t feel as anxious as the day before. Your grin falls a tad when you keep reliving the incident prior, and running your palms along your apron uncomfortably, you decide now must be the right time to apologize since there isn’t many customers currently.

“Hoseok, I um,” you stammer, “I’m so sorry. For yesterday. I shouldn’t have run off like that. It was very rude of me.”

“No need to apologize,” he waves briefly, the corners of his mouth smiling wider in assurance, “You’re fine I promise. I didn’t take any offense to it whatsoever.”

Holding his brown eyes, you are incredibly grateful for his kindness, “Thank you. Really, thank you. It was extremely sweet of you to check up on me.”

“Anytime,” you’ve always loved seeing his smile, which you almost envy, although it is comforting to see every morning especially when you need a pick-me-up. The man has visited the restaurant every single morning for over 730 days, and yet you don’t know a single thing about him other than he orders the same exact thing for breakfast, and that he almost always comes alone.

Swarms of customers bustle into the restaurant putting a kick in your step to seat them, hand out menus and take orders, refilling drinks as you go- the typical morning crowd distracts to where you set aside the thoughts of your personal life for the time being, and once everything settles, you rush to the counter where Hoseok’s order is ready. Cautiously carrying the platter to him, steam rises from the cakes, the smell making your mouth water as a small gurgle erupts from your belly. Unfortunately, you forgot to eat this morning from your rush getting to work, and it reminds you that you hardly have been eating as much since… you shake your head to rid of the person you’re trying to forget.

“Pick a number from one through ten,”

“Huh,”

Hoseok’s words awaken you from your mini zone-out, cutting into the pile of deliciousness- the chocolate drizzle melting further into the layers before his eyes return to his phone screen set out beside him. “Pick a number between one and ten,” he repeats, still gluing his gaze to his cellular device.

Chuckling, confusion is obvious in your demeanor, your hands moving to rest on your hips, “Uh,” you draw out, “Seven.”

“Let’s see,” he murmurs, scrolling through the screen until he pauses, mouthing whatever words he’s reading, “Ah, okay, what is your favorite color?”

“Oh, that’s easy!” You shrug nonchalantly in preparation of answering until you see one of your customer’s almost finished with their plate. “Hold that thought,” you held up an index finger, swiftly checking on your tables, collecting payments, and returning to check on Hoseok once the coast becomes clear. You feel awful when you see that his plate is nearly empty, continuously apologizing for how long it's taken you to get back to him, but he assures you it’s fine considering  you’re at your job and that he’s the one who is sorry for distracting you.

“Now,” he leans forward with clasped hands, his plate set to the side along with his empty coffee mug, “What is your favorite color?”

“Purple,” you reply, shifting your weight whilst wiping your hands on a small towel you picked up on the way to check on him, “My favorite color is purple.”

“I think I knew that already,” he ponders for a moment.

“You do? How did you-?”

“You said a while back about that being the reason you knew Monnie was going to be your best friend.”

“Because she has purple hair,” you murmur, finishing his sentence, “I remember that.”

“And your pen is also-”

“Purple,” your fingertips brush against the pen hooked to the hem of your shirt in amazement of his memory being how long it has been since M started.

“Can I borrow it?” His question surprises you at first, but you shrug, pressing your lips together while nodding.

“Sure,” you set it before him, “Keep it, I have an extra.”

With a thumbs up, his eyes are back on his cellphone, “One more,”

“Question?”

“Mhm,”

“Alrighty, uhm.. Ten,”

“What is,” he starts slowly, his gaze in pure concentration, “What is your favorite flower?”

“Good question,” contemplating, you suck in your lips, because your flower of choice has always surprised people, especially since it’s not actually a flower at all. In fact, it is nothing, but a weed in many eyes. “Dandelion. One hundred percent, dandelions.”

“Wow,” Hoseok leans back slightly, “I’ve never heard that one before.”

“Have you ever seen dandelion seeds?”

“I have,”

“Well, if I could say every wish I have made with those things, you’d think I’m insane.”

“Wishes,” he speaks softly as if to himself, but loud enough for you to hear. “You see them as wishes instead of weeds,”

“Always have,” there are moments when the sun shines through the windows but happens to brighten more in certain moments perhaps when clouds move out of the view.

“What’s the biggest wish you’ve ever made if you don’t mind me asking?”

The question catches you off guard, your lips parting with the intention of answering, but with your luck, the signal of the door’s bell is all that is needed to have to interrupt the interesting conversation. It feels good to be asked questions and throwing Hoseok an apologetic glance, you immediately greet the family of four to then lead them to a clean, empty table. Performing your job by checking on your other tables, you scoop up dishes to be taken to the kitchen sink, losing track of time before you can head back to see if Hoseok’s okay. To your dismay, the seat he had occupied is now vacant, and you watch as M quickly sets the coffee mug upon the plate, disappearing into the kitchen with them.

Disappointment clouds you, though you are stunned by that fact. Inching closer to the counter, something enters your vision that you hadn’t realized was there. A green bill sits with what looks to be a ripped sheet of paper with a logo printed on the edge, which you recognize to be from M’s notebook is laying on top. Your fingertips graze the paper, the corner of the bill revealing it to be twenty bucks, which causes you to gasp in surprise considering his breakfast, which you give him a discount due to his customer loyalty and overall politeness, is a whopping $3.20. Your eyes then drop to the note which you observe is written with purple ink:

‘Sorry, had to run.

Keep the change. And I really do hope that you’re okay.

Hoseok : - )’

For safekeeping, the note from Hoseok is folded neatly within your wallet where small treasures gifted from friends remain. Though not highly superstitious, you still consider these reminiscent trinkets as good luck charms, something to bring a smile on your face when you need it the most. Jingling keys are the only sound reverberating in the parking lot before the thumps of your shoes bounce up the stairs. The lights are off as always when you finally enter your home though the vacancy of the atmosphere doesn’t feel like a home plaguing the persistent dread of loneliness. You did, however, inform your mother about the breakup during your drive to the apartment, her muttering under her breath how she knew something was up, yet you dwindled whatever excuses you could to defend him. Though defending him at this point leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

Shoving off your shoes, you hastily prepare for a shower, cleansing the sadness off your frame before drying your hair and throwing on some pajamas to then laying a fresh uniform out for work the following morning. Gazing around the room, you gather the pale white of the walls only decorated with sparse posters of favorite artists as well as replicas of items that have featured in shows that you and… Jeongguk enjoyed. Swallowing roughly, you flit your stare to the dresser drawer where pictures of your family and friends are held in small frames; though you and Jeongguk hardly ever took pictures together, photography or simply delighting in the scenery and family was something the two of you shared. Your fingertips nestle upon the mahogany surface where the smooth wood has a chill to the touch despite the small clouds of dust collecting at the tips of your nails. Wiping the lint onto your sweatpants, you grimace at how unclean you have been as far as maintaining your room, but once you’re home after a long day, it’s hard to get back into the routine of keeping the apartment spotless. Especially when the only thing you desire is to hide under the comforter as if to avoid being reminded of reality.

Intending to power clean on your next day off, you rake a tired hand through your hair, pausing to then wrap your arms around your waist for comfort. It is the jar at the corner of your bedside table that prompts a dreary mist to your eyes. Just a large mason jar filled with extra money in tips that you’ve been able to salvage despite bills, and the first-night discovering Jeongguk’s departure, you sifted through every item in the closet until you found it, where you had originally kept it hidden. IRELAND, printed in bold letters, proudly sticks to the center of the jar reminding you of the plan you had to surprise him, one day, with tickets to both of your dream destination for a romantic getaway. If there was one place the two of you dreamed more than life, it was to escape to Ireland for as long as you both could, to view the scenery hand in hand with triumphant smiles of ‘we made it’ planted across the both of your faces.

When the two of you met, you had just started college, soon discovering college wasn’t for you, but Jeongguk, bright-eyed with a thin-lipped smile, drew you in like no other. He kept you going until you finished out the school year- your family member offering you a job as a waitress, where you work now until you found something that interested you for a lifetime. Jeongguk is a pharmacist, but during his prerequisites, was how the two of you were first introduced; one thing led to another, and before you knew it, he was holding your hand in the hallways; sneaking kisses between classes; gifting you with fortune cookie quotes every time he ordered take out on late nights of essays and online quizzes; snuggling you on the weekends when the two of you were too exhausted to finish an entire movie; driving you at odd hours of the night to purchase your favorite snacks when mother nature came to knock on your door; random adventures to gaze at scenery whether it be the mountains or the beach; and endless conversations of each of your dreams discovering the two of you shared a deep love for a trip to Ireland.

But that dream ended all too soon. Died the moment he wrecked your heart. When tears threaten to spill onto your cheeks, you step to reach for the jar, deciding to hide it away once again. Out of sight, just like the memories, you wish would disappear from your mind. Once under the covers with the hope of feeling safe and sound, you can’t help but miss his presence- pressing the space of the mattress behind you, cuddling his warm face to the back of your neck. The pain seeping into your chest is nearly excruciating mingled with the pleading of not wanting to think about him, but there’s no use.

Jeongguk was your first everything. First kiss, first boyfriend, first roommate, first time, first love. He was the first man to have such a hold over your heart, and you never imagined that he would just let it go- just like that.

Let you go- just like that.

It was two years later when the two of you were both financially stable enough, that you found this apartment and moved in together. And, nearly one year later after that, only weeks leading to the renewal of the lease, here you are, in a chilly bedroom, all alone, with no answers to the million questions as to why.

Why.

Sniffling back the little tears that managed to escape onto the bedsheets, you long for this turmoil to end, restlessly turning onto your back where your eyes squeeze shut.

If there’s anything you wish for, even on countless dandelion seeds,

it’s to be happy again.

The last gulp of your protein shake hits the spot, trekking from your car to the entrance of the restaurant, you mentally prepare yourself for the day ahead – the same repetitive routine: greeting your fellow coworkers with kind smiles along with checking up on their well-being as a good manager and a person does, scamper to check on occupied tables, and take orders of arriving customers once they’ve been seated. Time zips past and while rounding the main counter to check on refills and starting another pot of coffee, you notice Hoseok sipping from his mug, prompting a double-take because a prolonged realization reveals you hadn’t quite recognized him right away without his hat on. Curly tendrils frizzle along his forehead and you take in his innocent eyes sweeping the wall above the kitchen opening where picture frames are present. Approaching him, you observe a black watch adorning his left wrist where he still holds the mug to his lips, and next to him rests a brown paper bag which you assume holds a snack of some sort.

“Hey, Stranger,” you grin at him, and you notice dimples embellish his face from where he returns the smile, settling his beverage before him. “Don’t you get tired of seeing the same little ole’ faces every single day?”

“Not at all,” he chuckles, “It’s practically my job!” Running his fingers along his jaw, then returning to fold his hands in front of him to lean on his elbows. As much as you hate to admit it, no matter how internally it is, you feel guilty at the budding attraction you have welling beneath your sternum that a light shade of pink etches your cheeks. Hoseok has always been a handsome man, but you never seemed to notice until you really started to merely look at him.

The question comes out a little quicker than expected, “Pancakes with chocolate syrup?”

“Pancakes with chocolate syrup,” he nods once in confirmation.

“Coming right up,” you wink, turning to enter the kitchen, bellowing, “Hoseok’s usual!”

“On it like a faucet!” Seokjin’s voice echoes back to you. Turning on a heel, you continue your grand customer service, tending to as many tables, as you can until Hoseok’s order, is up.

“Alright, new number,” he suddenly says as you set his plate of steaming pancakes onto the counter, “Between one and ten, but not seven nor ten.”

Chuckling, you eye him suspiciously at the randomness of it all, yet you’ve always found it delightful to answer questions- it’s fun to search through your own mind and list your interests and hobbies; it’s quite a nice distraction from the bustling of the restaurant, though the crowd has dimmed down enough to have a few minutes with Hoseok. “Uh, five?”

“Okay! What is your favorite food?”

“Ooo,” you coo, placing your palm on your chin while you lean forward upon the counter. It’s not the norm for you to do that, but with fewer people around to be able to stare, the more comfortable you feel to slack just a tad bit. “Beef bulgogi,”

“Next,”

“Next?”

“Next number,”

“Oh!” Shaking your head once you understand, you concentrate to remember which numbers you haven’t said yet, “Two?”

“Favorite animal?”

“Okapi. Eight,”

“Favorite season?”

“Spring. Four,” Sprinting to check on the remaining folks finishing up their plates, you refill drinks and dispose of empty dishes before rushing back to see what question four will be. You find the anticipation to be silly, but a good silly because for once you feel an excitement you’ve been needing for a while.

“Favorite game?”

“Uno. One,” there is only a few more questions to juggle while you rush back and forth between tables and something dawns on you.

“Favorite music genre?”

“Pop- hey, wait a minute,” Hoseok’s eyes widen as if startled while he puckers his lips, seeing the way your hands rest on your hips where you tap your fingers against your apron, a teasing glare pins him in place. “This game is rigged.”

“Oh?”

“How come I’m the only one answering all the questions?”

There’s always the annoying cues that tend to interrupt when you reach an interesting point in your job, and when you straighten your posture, you notice what looks to be a party of ten entering the building. Vague familiarity brushes over a few faces, potentially previous consumers, all wearing business attire, but when your gaze lands on one of the men, a jolt of pure terror begins to ram harshly against your rib cage. Hoseok notices the way your frame became rigid and with furrowed eyebrows, he turns enough to look behind him not hearing your footsteps shoot forward to seat the group. Clicking your purple pen, you shakingly jot down their drink orders after welcoming them, trying with all your might to swallow down the overwhelming sense of nausea.

“Well, how are you, dear?” Mr. Jeon, Jeongguk’s father, though with a kind smile, greets you. Clear glasses are poised on the bridge of his nose, and despite his bout of disapproval upon you being a waitress, there seems to be not one smidge of tension amongst him which you are taken aback by, and you force to hide your bewilderment with a polite expression.

“I’m doing very well, Mr. Jeon. How are you?” A blush heats over your chest from the stares looming at you from the rest of the table, and all you can wonder is what made Jeongguk’s father come to this particular restaurant? And, why today of all days? Why ever? You understandably can see it being a coworker who loves this restaurant offering this to be where they eat today but didn’t Mr. Jeon know that you worked here at this specific location or did he simply forget?

“I’m doing well,” he nods as if contemplating his answer, “How has the job been treating you?”

“Good, as always,” you nod, wishing nothing more than to melt into the floor. “I’ll be right back with your drinks,” swiftly bowing, Mr. Jeon awkwardly clears his throat.

“Of course, of course. I’ll let you get back to work,”

It doesn’t take long to get all the beverages ready, and once you take their food order, you clip it up for Seokjin and Von, ducking into the restroom where you can fill your lungs with a much needed deep breath. Fighting the urge to hyperventilate, your hands curl on either side of the sink, gripping so tight your knuckles whiten. Holy shit. The coppery taste of blood heightens your senses and you realize you have been gnawing on your lips much harder than usual. You can’t even raise your head enough to look in the mirror without the risk of vomiting, so instead, bending close enough, you turn on the spigot, to feel tiny flecks of water nicker your nose, rinsing your mouth with lukewarm water. 

Persuading whatever you can to calm down, you try convincing yourself how you have met the man before, how he was practically your father-in-law at one point, yet the intense feeling of your heart pounding was still present. You are so shaken up my Mr. Jeon’s presence, you pace back and forth once you part from the sink, pleading with your stomach to not release the breakfast you had earlier. Thoughts of Hoseok seem to mingle, hoping M has been able to tend to him to make sure he doesn’t need anything else, and you find yourself amazed by just the mere thought of his smile bringing you at ease even if for a moment. He always seems so happy, and in a way, you envy him for it, although you know realistically speaking, no one in the universe has a perfect life no matter how you slice it, but at least some can find their happiness again which you long for desperately.

Scolding yourself, you are not sure how long you remain hidden within the bathroom, and when your belly decides to simmer down, you press your eyes close and whisper some form of encouragement before returning to the bustling floor of the restaurant. Realizing in slight chagrin, you notice Mr. Jeon and his company have been digging into their plates, and you thank your lucky stars for M because you know she is the culprit for making sure your job is still being maintained.

“Ah, there she is!” Mr. Jeon proclaims, swiping his napkin briefly over his mouth.

“I apologize for my absence, I can grab pitchers for some refills-” you start, observing some of the glasses being halfway consumed, but Mr. Jeon waves a hand to stop you.

“No need. Ms. Monica informed us that the delivery truck had arrived. I didn’t know you were the assistant manager now. I can’t believe my son hasn’t told me!”

M saves the day yet again, and before you can breathe a sigh of relief, your breath hitches instead, “Hasn’t?” What does Mr. Jeon mean by the present tense? Maybe Jeongguk… never felt the need of informing his parents since they originally disproved of your waitressing to begin with. Trying to prevent the urge to scrunch your eyebrows, you try to keep a nonchalant demeanor as you continue speaking after realizing Mr. Jeon hadn’t reiterated, “Why, yes! Yes, I am now the assistant manager. I was promoted around the same time your son was.” Flinching, you still have a hard time saying his name aloud, and you hope to the heavens that Mr. Jeon didn’t notice as you fondle with the hem of your apron, your fingertips evidently numb.

Elbowing one of his coworkers he chuckles, “She’s got him wrapped around her finger. It’s been that way for years. I can’t even get the couple to visit us anymore,”

“Mr. Jeon,” you try to say at the daunting discovery you have unraveled, but your words die on your tongue.

“Say, how is Jeonnguk doing?” Lightheaded, you hardly hear the question, much less the feel of a tender hand being placed upon your shoulder.

“He’s good!” M’s voice snaps you back to reality as you dizzily reach over to refill a drink from the pitcher M had set on the table.

“Yeah,” you reply in clear discomfort, “He’s doing wonderfully I suppose.”

When the men are finished with their meals, you and M collect the dishes and silverware before bringing their checks to collect payments; Mr. Jeon nods his goodbye when the group gathers to exit the restaurant. Appearing into the kitchen, the chefs are too busy cooking to notice, and M follows suit, “[Y/N], if you need a minute-” M’s voice is thick with worry especially when she notices your eyes pooling with unshed tears.

“He doesn’t know,” your voice cracks, “Mr. Jeon doesn’t know that we broke up,”

M’s expression is incredulous after the confusion dissipates from her eyes, but she squeezes your hand to provide whatever strength she can give. Jeongguk’s father is unaware of the breakup, and here you are made a fool because of it, or that is how you see it.

“Maybe something bad has happened to him?”

“No,” you sigh, not wanting to relive the memory, “he left a note that said ‘I’m sorry,’ written on it. That’s how I know that he did this willingly,”

Silence drifts between you and your best friend for a few minutes before she pulls you into a crushing hug. Relief to have such a wonderful support system, you return the hug only letting a few more tears fall to retain your composure.

“I’m telling you he’s running because he’s ashamed of something, hence why he never said anything to his family,” M reminds you of the advice she gave what feels like a lifetime ago, “He will realize what he lost in due time, but for now, just focus on you. Maybe there are some things individually he needs to work on himself... Though that doesn’t change the fact that he should have communicated, but see this as an opportunity to find yourself, too.”  

“You’re right,” you pull away, inhaling a slow breath before letting it out, “Maybe I just need to switch up my point of view,” even though you long for closure that may never come, but at least you can try to recover without knowing the full story. Maybe it is possible. “Thank you,” you whisper swiping under your eyes one more time, until you remember a certain, handsome customer you were originally serving. You gasp with enlarged eyes, “Hoseok!” Completely forgetting to check on him, you want to kick yourself for losing focus on your job despite the circumstances, and when you sprint out of the kitchen, your shoulders fall when seeing that his seat is no longer holding him. The empty mug rests on top of the plate that has leftover chocolate drizzle dolloped sporadically from where the pancakes were devoured; stepping to collect the dishes, something else encapsulates your sight.

Laying on the countertop sits what shows to be another twenty-dollar bill which once again stuns you from how cheap Hoseok’s breakfast is, but what rests beside the tip is what moves you to tears as a tiny gasp muffles into your palm. A circle of four yellow dandelions emerge in your line of vision, the fragrance of them greeting your nose. Once you’re close enough to fully absorb what you’re seeing- there laying in the center, encompassed by the golden petals,

is a white sphere of dandelion seeds still supported by its faded, green stem.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed when the following morning Hoseok never arrived for his routine breakfast, especially since you have the day off tomorrow. With your heart anticipating to thank him for the gift he left for you, you try to busy your mind with your job, so that the overwhelming thoughts of the regular didn’t occupy every crevice of your brain. But of course, it doesn’t one hundred percent work because the constant questions spin through, what if he went out of town? How long will he be gone? What if something bad happened? Maybe he had to work extra early even though you haven’t the slightest idea where he works. What if he is visiting a friend? Family? …Girlfriend?

Shaking your head from the foolish inquiries, you wrestle with the anxiety until lunchbreak, grabbing your packed sandwich from the fridge and sauntering to the picnic bench outside. Once again, not any customers were occupying them, and with the sun being high in the cloudless sky, you are thankful for the weather providing a cooling breeze. Halfway into your sandwich, your attention is so consumed by the article you are reading on your phone, the sudden slap of an item hitting the wood of the table causes you to jump before you realize what it is.

Uno. An Uno box is staring back at your wide eyes as you swallow whatever food you hardly chewed. Trailing to see who brought the card game, your heart flutters when you meet the smiling eyes of Jung Hoseok.

“My goodness you scared me!” You release a string of giggles in response to the adrenaline dimming and partially because you are happy to see him, a lot more than you expected.

“I’m sorry about that, it was kind of my intention, but not really,” he teases, descending across from you, his cap sitting perfectly upon his head to where his curls still decorate his forehead. You want to bring up the dandelion seeds and mention how much they mean to you even though you are not sure where to begin. Even combing through your memory, you can’t think of a time someone left you something so thoughtful.

“I’ll get you back,” you grin playfully, reaching for the box of cards with vengeance in tow, “I am quite the extraordinaire at Uno,”

“Ah, your confidence is astounding,” his smile widens, “But, I think you have met your match.”

“Bring it on,”

A few games pass with competitiveness you never knew you had, and it draws mild attention from customers about to enter the restaurant, but you could care less. When deciding on the final game, you discard.

“You forgot something,” Hoseok’s mischievous smirk sparking a dimple, flitting your gaze back to him, your mouth forms an ‘Oh’ in confusion,

“Uno.”

“Oh shit!” You slap a palm to your forehead, listening to your component cackle as he hands you four cards from the pile. The game prior, you each had one card left, and when you for sure thought you had him cornered, he placed a draw four WILD card onto the pile. “I give up,” you lean back with a deflated ego, and a lopsided grin, “You win. Again.”

“I’ll go easy on you next time,” he winks, a small flutter awakens within your chest, but you attempt to disperse the gnawing feelings that you can’t explain. Reaching for the cards- to stack neatly to return to its box- Hoseok’s fingers brush yours with the same intention. Awkwardly, you pull away, letting him pile the cards where they belonged, the feel of his fingertips still lingering on yours, a subtle blush creeps onto your cheeks. To distract yourself, you check your phone for the time, your heart falling in disappointment when you only have seven minutes left. Though you will not admit it to yourself, you aren’t disappointed in the fact you have to return to work, you are disappointed that your time with Hoseok has to end for the day.

“Thank you by the way,” you murmur softly, yet loud enough for him to hear. Hoseok looks up at you after stuffing the cards in the box as if confused on what you mean. “Honestly, thank you for everything. The questions, bringing the card game… And the dandelion seeds.” You smile timidly, “I don’t think you realize how much it’s helped distract me.”

Nodding, he doesn’t break eye contact, his smile so kind you can hardly ignore the flickers within you increasing, “Anytime. I can tell you’ve seemed down lately, and I know what that’s like, so I figured, why not find ways to help.”

The way your heart moves at his words, you are so touched that phrases dissipate from your tongue and in replacement, Hoseok is met with a look of awe dawning your expression. How can someone be so incredibly kind? You have known him for two years yet he has done more for you in such a short span of time that you realize you have gradually been gaining your smile back, especially when around him. When the two of you stand, you round the table in the direction of the restaurant and your shoulder happens to brush his arm.

“For you, Ma’am,” Hoseok stops, turning to face you fully to perform a courteous bow as he gestures the card game toward you.

“Oh, Hoseok, no you don’t have to do that!” Out of shock, your hands cup his that are still holding what happens to be another gift for you, the warmth of his skin prompting the reddened hues of your cheeks.

“I insist,”

“Hoseok, you really don’t have to,” but you lose the battle for as you head back into the restaurant, a giddy smile remains on your face as you tuck the box of cards safely into your purse.

Even as time passes into a few weeks, you find a day off leads into sleeping in until eleven in the morning which also results in you cleaning the entire apartment until it is spotless. Despite the ongoing guilt exhausting you inwardly, you store nearly everything of Jeongguk’s in a spare closet where it will stay away from your line of vision until you have the guts to rid of everything that you know he will never come back for. Lemony scents envelop each room, and you carry the final, hefty trash bag to the dumpster exasperated from the constant moving. Although, accomplishment is a wonderful feeling especially when you nibble on some lunch, soon turning to fall back onto your made bed. Closing your eyes for a split second, a sigh of relief brushes your grinning lips, your arms sprawled out on either side of you; when your phone vibrates on your dresser, the loud noise against the wood scares you at first as you jump suddenly with enlarged eyes, sporadically reaching for your cellphone where the familiar initial of your best friend appears.

“What did you do,” you tease.

M scoffs, “Bold of you to assume that I’m the culprit! Alas, I am sitting here alone on my lunch break, and thought I’d call to check up on you. Everything okay?”

“My apartment smells like lemons,” you reply with a wide smile.

“Oh! It was that bad?”

“Yeah,” you laugh, remembering that you need to put the vacuum you used earlier back into the laundry closet.

“No wonder why you haven’t invited me over. Now, I’m not as offended,” M jokes, munching on what you assume is a chip.

“You can come over tonight if you’d like,”

M sighs, “I would, but Yoongi is wanting to introduce me to his BFFLs’ that he’s made thus far.”

“From college I presume?” You wonder, imagining all the insults M is probably practicing just in case if she needs them.

“Yes, I think they’re majoring in the same thing, but I don’t remember.” M munches on another chip, “If they’re cute, do you want me to hit you up? You know, get them to slide in them DMs.”

“Do you even know their names?”

“Of course, I do!” M gasps, “Taejoon and Namyung.”

When the two of you manage to calm your laughter, M then shares some words of encouragement, the two of you finishing the call once the end of her lunch break nears. Roaming around the apartment, you take in the clean atmosphere, breathing in the lemon scent, and letting the sunlight shine through the windows along the furniture, bringing a subtle warmth to the air. Peace. Returning to your room, you hook your phone to the charger, your eyes pan over the dresser until they land on the dandelions you were given a few weeks ago. A small smile forms on your lips. The petals have completely dried although the scent persists; the sphere that holds numerous wishes disguised as seeds remains resting above them though the stem is shriveled.

Hoseok has asked you several questions, learning new things about you every day. Even when you try to learn at least one thing about him, something always interrupts, or he avoids answering and distracts you with another question that piques your interest. Ever since he witnessed your breakdown with the plates, it’s like he hasn’t let a day go by where he’s not finding a new way to make you smile. To make sure you’re okay. Your eyes still trained on the dandelion pile; a sudden urge awakens within you. Reaching for the withered stem, you rush out of the apartment, trampling down the steps until your bare feet find the large area of grass behind the complex. With the sun still beaming, the heat encompassing your skin, you bring the cloud of seeds to your lips, closing your eyes before making the wish that is dying to be whisked away in the breeze.

You make your wish- gently blowing at the loosening seeds- one by one they are captured by the wind, and with hopeful eyes and a promising smile, you watch until the seeds disappear into the unknown.

For the first time in a long time,

you are actually excited for the days ahead.

Hoseok fidgets with the gold watch as he tries to attach it onto his left wrist. It’s been years since he’s seen the watch, but his sister came to town from college weeks ago, surprising him with it. Taking a brief look in the mirror, Hoseok then heads to his car, his gurgling stomach waiting for the pancakes- a routine he has done for so long he’s forgotten how many years it's really been. Once arriving, his eyes trail the restaurant for you, his pending gift he has waiting at home isn’t finished quite yet, so when he discovers that you happen to be off today, he settles in the same stool, M bellowing his order to the cooks in the back.

M retrieves Hoseok’s coffee, him taking a sip, letting the heat of the liquid warm his figure; he gazes at the pictures on the wall. One frame, particularly, he searches for and once his eyes land upon it, it brings a sense of reminiscence from his childhood. In the picture, it has Hoseok as a young boy, his smile is so wide that his eyes disappear, his cheeks rosy, and his hair was much darker; a strong arm is over his shoulders revealing his grandpa with an equally large smile. In front of them, sits two plates with heaping layers of pancakes- chocolate syrup drizzling along the cakes with whipped cream swirled on top. Off to the side sits a coffee mug, something his grandpa couldn’t live without. A cup of coffee every single morning to start off his day. Adorning his grandpa’s left wrist is the golden watch, the one Hoseok finally found the strength to wear this morning. Hoseok’s grandpa brought him to this restaurant for breakfast every single time he came to visit him; some of the fondest memories Hoseok will hold in his heart forever.

Hoseok’s grandfather meant everything to him; always telling him stories, encouraging Hoseok to be the best man that he can be, sharing words of wisdom, and cheering him on with every obstacle thrown into his path. The day that his grandfather was diagnosed with cancer was the day that changed Hoseok’s life. Hoseok was applying to colleges during the time; his dream of becoming a dance teacher one day nearly dissipated until his grandfather refused to let Hoseok give everything up for the sake of his life. Though stubborn, Hoseok continued seeking out colleges while the looming process of watching his grandpa, who was once full of life, slowly withering away before his eyes.

Hoseok’s heart nearly tore into millions of shattered pieces, but there was never a night that he didn’t visit his grandpa in the hospital, sharing memories until his grandpa would drift to sleep. The night his grandfather passed, he gripped Hoseok’s hand with tears brimming his eyes. 

“I am so proud of you, son,” his chin quivered, Hoseok’s face falling into a pained expression as every suppressed emotion nearly drowned him. Hoseok held onto him- sobs escaping him until his grandfather’s last breath. The family remained in the room behind him, knowing how much of an impact Hoseok’s grandfather had left on him.

It took a few years before Hoseok ever stepped foot into this restaurant again. Refused to even drive by it when visiting his parents- taking back roads to avoid any pain he tried healing from. When he first moved back into this town, after attending college nearly seven hours away, he finally found a form of strength to visit the restaurant that held the most memories. There was just one thing that he never expected.

Walking into the restaurant fresh out of college, Hoseok remembers hands in the pockets of his jacket, the smell of breakfast foods enveloping his nostrils, as the joyous conversations of people flooded his ears. When his eyes found the picture of his grandpa, he swallowed the lump in his throat, almost turning to leave, when:

“Welcome!” His eyes landed on a pair of glimmering eyes, vanishing all ounce of pain that was building within his chest. “You can sit anywhere you’d like!”

His lips parted at first, but one thing he knew, was he couldn’t take his eyes off the smiling waitress as he forced himself to walk- finding a stool at the counter.

“What can I get you today?” She beamed, pulling out a pad of paper, clicking the end of a purple pen in preparation to take his order.

“Uh,” Hoseok lost his train of thought for a moment, but the waitress waited patiently, as he scrambled to decide. Quickly, he glanced up at the picture of him and his grandpa, returning his eyes to the waitress, “I’ll have some coffee, and pancakes with chocolate syrup, please,” he smiled.

“Perfect. Coming right up!”

Hoseok watched as the waitress disappeared into the kitchen, her ponytail bouncing behind her- completely entranced by her beauty glowing from within. Even when she served him the pancakes, he thanked her, her smile never left the whole entire time he was there. As he occasionally glanced in her direction, her smile never left even for the customers occupying the rest of the spaces in the restaurant. In a way, he envied her smile, wishing he could give some light to the people surrounding him.

He came every day after that. Ordering the pancakes and coffee to start his day off before going to teach his dance classes at a high school not far down the road. One day, whenever the waitress came to check on him, he was halfway finished with his plate, “So, how is work for you today?” The question left his mouth before he could even stop himself. “Anything new?” The waitress leaned onto the counter,

“Good so far! We have a trainee coming in today for a working interview,” she said with excitement. “We’ve been needing more help around here as you know. But that’s not even the best part.”

“Oh?” Hoseok’s hands folded in front of his chin, interest in his expression.

The waitress looks ahead, her smile remaining planted on her face, “She has purple hair. I’m telling you right now her and I are going to be the best of friends.”

Hoseok couldn’t help, but chuckle at her statement, “Is that-?”

“My favorite color? Most definitely.” She glowed, soon scurrying off to check on the rest of her section.

The memory fades as M settles Hoseok’s order in front of him. “Thank you,” he says, digging into the layers. If there is one thing that Hoseok hadn’t expected when he returned to this restaurant for the first time in years,

It was that he would ever meet a ray of sunshine like you.

As two weeks pass, Monday decides to take its turn- you roll out of bed, readying for the day, getting to work early to prepare for the food truck’s arrival. Chef Seokjin typically comes to help- carrying the heavier boxes you may not be able to handle all by yourself. Once everything is stocked, the remaining workers begin to file in, clocking in for their shifts and double checking the floor to make sure everything is crystal clean.

“How are you, [Y/N]?” Jimin asks, his sweet smile reaching his eyes as he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“I’m doing well, Chimmy Chim. How are you this fine morning?” You hug him tight, his thin waist nearly swallowed by your embrace. Jimin is like the younger brother you’ve never had since you are an only child, he seemed to fill in that space for you whenever he first started working here. Every now and then, he comes to ask for advice on how to win LenLen’s heart, one of the fellow waitresses who also greets you with a hug every Monday morning when she arrives for her shift.

“I’m doing well. Guess what? Your advice worked.” He shimmers, his fluffy, blonde hair curled along his forehead.

“Did you plan everything out?” 

“Yes, I did,” he promises. “Even down to the dessert. I’ll update you on everything after the date.”

“Okay, good. Because she’s standing right behind you,” Jimin’s eyes expand into saucers as he jumps to look behind him.

“You’re rude,” he chortles, playfully nudging you to realize LenLen hasn’t arrived just yet.

“I know, but I’m the best manager in the world. You can tell my relative I said so,” you wink. As soon as opening hour comes around, hordes of elderly couples and middle-aged people flood the booths and tables, sending every worker into a whirlwind of action. Whenever it slows down a bit, M meets you behind the counter, “So, I may have lied about something,” M begins, sucking her lips in as you turn to face her.

“Oh my, where do I need to meet you to dispose of the body,”

M rolls her eyes, “Oh, shut up, I haven’t killed him.”

“Yet,” you emphasize, leaning onto the counter.

“Okay, well I almost did, but that’s not the point. You see, what happened was- Remember Yoongi’s BFFLs’ I told you about?”

“Vaguely. What about them?”

“Well, those dipwads thought it was a good idea to not correct me on their names. And Yoongi was in on it.”

“No, they didn’t,” you chuckle, your friend’s embarrassment resonating in her features. “When did they decide to break it to you?”

“Last night, when they laughed so hard, they nearly urinated.”

“Remind me of their names again?”

M ponders for a moment, “Taejo- Sorry, Taehyung and Namjoon.”

“That’s not too far off though. Is it?”

“According to them, it is,” M shrugs, “But it’s okay I’ve renamed them to something much better.” M takes a hairbow and pulls her hair into a ponytail, your ‘humor me’ look waiting as she meets your gaze.

“What are their new names?” You blurt when the anticipation starts to overwhelm you.

“Tool and Nutbread,” M says nonchalantly, looking up to see three guys waltz in, “Speak of the damn devil.”

When you turn to look, you recognize Yoongi immediately, his silver hair curly as his eyes scan around the room until they lock with M’s, a gummy smile spreads across his face. Beside him stands two, very tall fellows, one wearing a black beret, flecks of green hair poking out near his ears; the other male, a slight bit taller, his dark hair parted on top of his head. You follow M until you reach the group, Yoongi offering his hand to shake yours first.

“Yoongi, this is my best friend, [Y/N].” M introduces, Yoongi bowing slightly.

“I’ve heard a lot of good things. Nice to meet you,”

“Same to you,” you say now turning to face the other two gentlemen.

“[Y/N],” M now gestures to the one with the beret. “This right here is Tool. And, this big shot right here is, Nutbread.”

You try to stifle the cackles wanting to erupt from your throat, but you hold a wide smile as you shake each of their hands, chagrin manifesting in their expressions.

“M is never going to let us live this down, is she?” Nutbread, who you assume is Namjoon, says, his face scrunching in a cutesy smile revealing dimples on his cheeks.

“Not at all,” you admit, as you and M seat them.

“It’s okay, we’ll get her back. I happen to be a prankster on the side.” Tool, who you assume is Taehyung, says pointing a finger at M with a boxy smile.

“If that were the case, then how’d you end up with super glue in your shampoo,” M shoots back. Taehyung awkwardly runs a large hand over his hat.

“That hat’s not coming off. Is it,” you muse.

“Maybe,” he pouts.

“That’s what happens when you mess with Monnie,” Namjoon banters.

“You’re next, Nutbread.” M utters, Namjoon’s eyes widening simultaneously to the whole table erupting in boisterous laughter. Monnie… you realize, there’s only one other person who calls M, Monnie. When the ding of the doorbell sounds as it does nonstop throughout the day, you turn to see Hoseok, your breath hitching. Normally, he heads straight for his typical spot at the counter, but this time he takes a seat at a booth, his countenance grim as his eyes examine the wall holding several picture frames. You have always noticed his sweep of the walls, but you never can figure what it is he is looking for. Before you greet him, you prepare a coffee, walking to his table to set it in front of him.

“Different view today?” You ask, his brown eyes meeting yours. You take in his facial features, the shape of his eyes, how smooth his skin appears, the pink of his lips, as well as the perfect line of his jaw. He’s so handsome you nearly want to faint. Hoseok smiles at you, his loose, brown shirt complimenting a ripped pair of black jeans, and you notice on his left wrist, he’s wearing a different watch this time. “Oh wow, I really like your watch.” You compliment, the golden hues of it glistening in the sunlight protruding through the window.

“Thank you,” his smile widens even more as if it’s possible, “It was a gift.”

“Well, it’s very nice. I’ll be right back with your pancakes,” you say, waltzing into the kitchen to alert the chefs of Hoseok’s arrival. Checking on other tables, you head back to the kitchen to retrieve Hoseok’s order. Once returned to the floor, there is a hesitant halt in your step for you notice a young woman sitting across from Hoseok at his booth. Something about her is familiar. If you remember correctly, she has been here a few times before- she never orders anything when she does come, and she’s always extremely polite to every employee who happens to wait their table, but who is she? Jealousy is a funny thing, yet you suppress the subtle feeling down, trying to talk yourself into how silly you are for even worrying.

“Hello!” You greet, setting Hoseok’s pancakes onto the table. “Can I get you anything to drink?” You offer.

“Oh, no thank you! I don’t need anything,” she smiles up at you, noticing the way her tight-lipped grin and her brown eyes appear conversant to you.

“[Y/N], this is my sister, Ji Wo.” Hoseok introduces, his hand gesturing toward her, and all you can do is stifle the tremendous sigh of relief at receiving this news. Yet, you are still confused as to why you were even worried to begin with. Is it possible that… You may have feelings on the man seated before you? Is that even a prospect?

“Oh wow, I see the resemblance! It’s so nice to meet you!” You smile, her saying the same, you turning to leave the two alone since you’re uncertain how often the two get to see each other. Rounding the counter to refill some drinks, M comes up to you.

“How’s Hoseok’s sister doing?” M asks, glancing over at the booth. You look at M with furrowed eyebrows.

“How’d you know that’s his sister?”

M tilts her head, “How did you not know that’s his sister? She only comes once in a blue moon. I’ve asked Yoongi about her, but he doesn’t know much. Hoseok’s not much of a talker like he used to be.”

“Wait,” you wave a hand in the air as if to pause time, “Yoongi and Hoseok know each other?”

M stares at you blankly, “What do you mean Yoongi and Hoseok know each other? They’re roommates you, dork!”

“Oh,” you gasp when you remember M telling you about Yoongi moving in with a roommate who M also mentioned was his childhood best friend; back when she made you visit her on the night you attempted to call him for the first time after the breakup. “I didn’t know his childhood best friend was Hoseok. And, no wonder why.. I noticed Namjoon called you Monnie, which is what I’ve heard Hoseok call you before.”

“Oh yeah, Yoongi calls me Monnie, so that’s my name at my house. But anyways,” M gains her train of thought, “after Yoongi moved away they lost touch, the most they communicated was over video game headsets.”

Snickering, you shake your head, even though you feel like there’s more about Hoseok than what he’s letting on. Gazing at him, his smile still on his face as he conversates with his sister, a strange longing tugs at your heart, and it happens to be so obvious your best friend can’t help but flash a hopeful yet knowing smirk.

“You know he’s single, right?” M’s voice disperses your trance, and you whip your head around to stare at her. M raises her hands immediately in defense, “I’m just saying.” She then heads back to the floor to check on her tables, you do the same. The hour whisking by in the blink of an eye, you find yourself cleaning tables, looking over your shoulder to see the empty booth Hoseok and his sister had originally occupied. Diverting your attention, you take empty dishes to the kitchen sink trying to ignore the ache of wanting to be around Hoseok which you’ve been gradually growing used to. When you head to the main counter, you bend down to wipe at the cubbies, ridding of dust that has collected along items related to pens, paper, boxes of straws, and other pocket items waiters and waitresses can swiftly grab when able to.

The clink of something pangs the counter causing you to stand upright. To your surprise, Hoseok plants himself into the stool, his smile showing his dimples as curly strands of hair fall into his eyes.

“Welcome back,” you say, closing your mouth that happened to be ajar, “You want more pancakes? Already?” You tease, the nervous tension easing from your shoulders. Your eyes then land to what caused the clinking sound seconds ago, a mason jar holding thick, yet neatly cut folded pieces of paper are piled within it. “What’s this?” You point, your eyes meeting Hoseok’s.

“It’s a jar full of questions,” he replies, sliding the mason jar toward you. A purple string is beneath the lid and you catch a strand between your fingertips. You’re speechless. Never in your wildest dreams would you have ever imagined being gifted something so sweet. Even with… “You can draw a question or more a day if you’d like.”

“And what do I get in return?” you press, “I believe I deserve answers about what your favorite things are, correct?”

Hoseok looks at his folded hands before returning his eyes to search yours, “You do.”

“So, how about with every question I draw, we both answer,” you challenge. “I’m tired of only knowing that your favorite number is seven,”

“Okay,” he agrees, “Deal.”

With a victorious smile, you lift the lid of the mason jar, thankful not many customers are in your section for the moment.  “Wait,” you pause when the sudden thought hits you, “Aren’t you going to get tired of this? Asking me so many questions?” You can’t help the curiosity, especially when you were so used to running out of things to talk about before.

“Not at all. There are always questions to ask. Even if it’s the same one every day, there’s always a ‘how are you?’ or ‘how was work today’ or even ‘did you have fun with your family today?’ I know some people don’t see it that way, but-”

“I do,” you murmur. There is always a conversation. Which is something you never realized you yearned for until now. When you hold his eyes a moment too long, you clear your throat, regaining your attention to the mason jar, carefully unfolding the first piece of paper you draw, reading the question aloud, “Who is the most inspiring person in your life?” Setting the piece of paper to the side, you take a minute to think about it, not knowing M is behind you pointing at herself- Hoseok stifling a laugh as M then turns to disappear into the kitchen. “I’d have to say, my mom.” You reply, M walking out of the kitchen just in time to hear your answer- slumping her shoulders which Hoseok catches in his peripheral vision. Oblivious to the whole situation, you just continue talking, “My mom always told me I could conquer anything if I put my mind to it.” Still looking up at the ceiling in concentration, you reiterate, “I’d have to say M, too.” M fist pumps in the air as she passes behind you once again, Hoseok completely entertained by the whole scene, finding your cluelessness about your best friend’s shenanigans cute. “She has saved me on many occasions. I don’t know what I’d do without her.” You now turn to Hoseok, “Your turn.” You demand. You watch as Hoseok joggles at the watch you complimented earlier, a sadness clouding his eyes.

“My grandfather,” he says, leaning forward, his hands so close they nearly touch yours. You wait as Hoseok swallows, gathering his words before speaking, “He used to bring me here when I was younger.” His tired smile barely reaches his eyes, “We would always get-”

“Pancakes with chocolate syrup,” you say in shock, the realization dawning on you, “That’s why-”

“Every day,” Hoseok nods, “He was my best friend. The picture of us on the wall here, it gives me strength every time I see it.”

“Hoseok, I’m so sorry,” you whisper, fighting the gesture to hold him in your arms, but you refrain from moving.

“It’s okay,” Hoseok promises, his eyes never leaving yours, “My sister gave me his watch, and coming here every day I get to remember him,” Hoseok pauses, his features suddenly becoming timid, “And every day I get to see you.”

Your heart immediately leaps at his words, and before you can respond, a group of women walk in and take a seat at a nearby table. “I’m sorry, Hoseok, hold on,” you whisper, irritation rising in you, but you repress it. Once you give the ladies their drink orders, you walk back to the counter, seeing Hoseok holding another question in his hands.

“Where is a place you have always wanted to travel to?” He reads and you can’t help but pause at the question- it catches you off guard, bringing a face you don’t want to think about to your mind.

“Ireland,” you murmur, your gaze falling to your twiddling hands, “Me and J-” You stop yourself, wincing at your almost mistake, “I’ve always wanted to go there since I was zero it feels like.”

“Why haven’t you?” Hoseok wonders, but, once again, before you can answer, another ding alerts you when an elderly man comes to sit at the counter. You quickly set the mason jar within a cubby behind the counter. “I better go. More questions tomorrow?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Hoseok smiles, and you rush to ask what drink the customer would like, your heart slightly falling when you feel Hoseok’s presence exit the restaurant.

Time ticks away to reveal how much emptier the mason jar has become, and the more questions you answer, the more you are finally learning about Jung Hoseok. It is like you have forgotten what a broken heart feels like, and though you will never admit it internally, Hoseok has threaded every piece back together in ways that you can’t reiterate. He happens to be a dance teacher at one of the local high schools which springs the explanation of why it’s ‘practically’ his job that he sees the same faces almost every day; he went to an University seven hours away to obtain his degree, and he has had a passion for dancing his entire life and is thankful to have a job where he can teach his dream. He happens to be addicted to Sprite and has a stuffed animal that is a horse named Mang gifted to him as a child by his Grandfather. Your favorite is knowing he has a dog named Mickey and that he loves his hair being messed with when he is trying to sleep which you ridiculously find enticing, but never plan to tell him.

Laughter has been the main contributor between the two of you- sharing your most embarrassing stories, cracking jokes whenever the restaurant calms, and as the days continue to pass, your excitement to come to work every day has never been so motivating, and for the first time in a long time, you’ve been going to bed with a smile on your face.

When the final folded piece of paper is staring back at you in the mason jar, you note the relief in Hoseok’s eyes as you reach in carefully, grasping the paper between your fingertips. Dramatically, you slowly unfold it, Hoseok tapping his fingertips on the counter nervously.

“You okay?” You tease.

“Never been better,” He tilts his head, his bucket hat shading his restless eyes.

When you finally open the final question, your eyes scan it as a gasp escapes your lips- the pace of your heart quickens as you swallow anxiously, joy rising within you, “Will-” You read, “Will you go on a date with me?”

When your gaze meets Hoseok’s, his contagious smile spreads across his face, his eyes shaping into crescents, “Well, I thought you’d never ask.”

-

A myriad of dates leads into relishing in new memories you have developed with none other than the source of your smile- Jung Hoseok. Twirling in a daze around your apartment, Hoseok makes it to you, helping you out of your jacket and turning to hang it on the coat rack sitting next to the front door.

“Do you really have to go?” You say softly, dreading the thought of him leaving for the night.

“I know, but we both have work in the morning, and we need sleep,” he reminds you, holding his arms out to invite you in. Hoseok walks you to your apartment after every date, enveloping you in a long, warm embrace before heading home. Without an ounce of hesitation, you cuddle into his chest, his cologne caressing your nose as his arms tighten around your back. His chin rests on the top of your head and the two of you rock from side to side, so delicate, and so full of serenity.

“Maybe- Maybe I don’t want to. Slee-” The words disappear on your lips once you break away just enough to gaze up at him, his proximity so inviting, his lips parting the moment your eyes flicker toward them, the desire to cling to him and let out all your emotions for him with what you’re longing for encases your mind. You swallow as your breathing increases, nerves swallowing every part of you, and Hoseok’s eyes bore into yours, reading every inch of your soul. You’re not sure what to do as panic fills you, especially when Hoseok leans closer, reading your mind more than you’d like to profess. When his nose brushes yours, you close your eyes, a sudden flash of Jeongguk’s face triggers you, and you drop your head in astonishment. “Hoseok,” you choke, “I’m sorry, I- I’m sorry, I- I can’t- I’m not-” You can’t even talk, stammering as you run a shaky hand through your hair.

“No, no, [Y/N]. You’re fine,” Hoseok settles his hands on your forearms to calm you, “I promise.” His words are so soft, you’re shocked you heard him, “I’m going to head out. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” And with that, he gently squeezes your arms, his eyes trying to hide the sadness behind them, he then turns to walk to the door, the clicking sound of it shutting causes you to slam your eyes shut, burying your face in your hands.

“Shit,” you whisper. Regret amalgamating every fiber of your being, your muffled breaths warming your cold hands as you try to numb the pain deep in your chest. What the hell is wrong with you!? Bringing the back of your hand to your mouth, your chin quivers. You want him. You’ve been wanting him for a long time. What the hell is wrong with you!? You fucking lov-

And with that, something ignites within you. You are in love with him, Jung Hoseok, and nothing is going to tear that or him away from you. You are ready. Determination running through your veins so rapidly that you gain your composure. “Hoseok,” you whisper. “Hoseok, Hoseok wait!” You shout, throwing open the door as you stomp down the stairs faster than you thought you were capable of. “Hoseok!” You say, your eyes frantically searching for him along the darkened parking lot, “Hoseok, wait!” When your eyes find him, he pauses, turning to face you with concerned eyes and parted lips, “Hoseok!” You say as you race to him, your heart flying beneath you as tears stream down your face.

“[Y/N]? Are you-” He begins, but you don’t give him a chance. Grabbing the front of his jacket with both of your hands, you yank him to your level, crashing your lips to his, clutching onto him for dear life. It takes him a second to register what is now happening, but his kiss eases, his hands finding your cheeks as he moves his lips so effortlessly with yours. Your hands find the back of his head, stroking his hair as every ounce of love pours out of you- every memory churning- every moment Hoseok has looked at you with his beautiful smile- every jig he’s tried to dance on dates- the way his warm hands feel within yours- the way he says your name- the way he steals your heart every chance he gets- there are no words. Not one word to describe the infinity of love you have for this man capturing your soul right now. Your heart has never burst with so much elation, happiness swarming the two of you that it’s as if fireworks are igniting in the sky, exploding into numerous colors, covering the world with their soaring flecks of flame.

His kiss so passionate, you become lightheaded, the two of you pulling away just enough to stare into each other’s eyes- breathless, but you don’t care. You cup his face, with a wide smile, you whisper,

“Stay.”

-

There isn’t the slightest hesitation, the pair of you hardly make it up the steps, not able to veer away from the continuous kisses, not one thought of fear in someone walking outside to see the two of you lip locked in desperation as if the night is going to end too soon. His palms keep their hold upon your face, bruising your lips however long you allow him. You are not even certain how you both accomplished making it to your bedroom, but the way breaths mingle, you are ecstatic to know that Hoseok will not be going home tonight after all.

Thrusting him onto the bed, you hover above him, soaking in the sight of his messy hair and heaving chest, covering his mouth with yours once more before raking your fingers through his frizzy curls, mesmerized by the sensation of his hands sliding along your back so carefully, the thought of you developing his senses as you always have, his heart pounding in unison with yours because the happiness you bring him is showing in his every kiss, every smile, every word, every touch. He is so gentle in how he keeps your body molded to him, and the painstaking longing you feel as it grows immensely, you crave the feel of his skin.

Pulling him to sit up, you throw a leg over him into the classic straddle planting a slow kiss before yanking off his shirt, he is so dazed by your beauty, and the way you keep him so close, his eyes never leaving your nervous face as your fingertips grace along the buttons of your shirt. His breath hitches at the sight of your bra, cupping your breasts perfectly, his mouth watering with the desire to kiss the tops of them but he remains respectful. When your shirt sends a soft plop to the ground, you gradually move your hands to unclip the garment, revealing your chest in all entirely as his fingers grip at the comforter. Tilting your head seductively, you nod in permission, the tips of his fingers reaching to trace skillfully in feathery tickles, arousing you to the point you feel a warm gush within your core.

But Hoseok takes you by surprise. Placing a tepid kiss on your lips, he then kisses each corner of your mouth, hands never leaving above your bosoms, he then kisses your cheeks, so sweetly, you’re almost in awe of his reaction; he then kisses your nose, your temples, either of your closed eyelids, your forehead, to then returning another soft kiss to your tingling lips. It is as if he wants to prove that he cares more for you than just what you two are longing to finish as the night drives on, and just when you gasp into his kiss, his fingers find your nipples, the sensitive touch making the desire grow even stronger than before, your heat clenching in a need for him, and you desist from begging for him. Moaning, your tongue circles his- his kisses are so addicting you hardly can think straight. Gliding two fingers along his chest, you fumble trying to unbutton his pants and not long after he shimmies from them, you follow suit, curling your bare legs around his torso as the pair of you hold each other tightly, enthralled in the way his heated skin feels on yours, entangled frames still sharing passionate kisses, not wanting anything to end.

Enlightened by the way he spins you to cautiously laying you onto your back, his lips suck along your chest, your abdomen- kisses planted all across your skin, his frame scooting farther backwards before you feel the fresh air sweeping your vulva, his hands grabbing your thighs causing a high pitched whimper to escape your tensed frame. It has been so long since you have felt a sensation as this, and as Hoseok’s panting breaths sweep your vulva, so then follows opened mouth kisses tickling along the quivering skin enhancing the anticipation to an ultimate high as you hold your breath wishing he would dive in.

And when he does, the moans release, his tongue slowly flattening along your core before moving up and down so lovingly, you could finish now with how much he is arousing you. He picks up the pace after a minute, sloshing his tongue over and over, taking in the taste of you, not wanting to miss a drop as you whimper at the growing sense. Stopping him, you take the time to pleasure him, performing what you hope satisfies though just being with you in general is enough for Hoseok. He never dreamed that he would have a chance with you though he wished for it, and here you are, kissing him back, asking him to stay, professing your feelings even if it’s through intimacy.

Finding himself above you, bodies pressing together in the dead of night, time is no longer a concern. Nodding toward him swiftly after getting lost in his eyes, he places a devoted kiss before he brings his hand to his being, placing it at your entrance before slowly thrusting in. He moves in you, your legs tighten behind him as he smothers your mouth with more kisses, with each stroke, the power of your climax is building to its peak as you gasp his name in pleasure. His pelvic movements increase the more you plead and when the climaxes hit, your thighs tightening as the ecstasy releases, he collapses beside you, burying his nose in your neck as you gleefully intertwine your fingers with his. Completing the night with a happiness you thought you would never find again.

And waking up to Hoseok every morning henceforward, has become your new favorite thing. Especially with his arm always being laced around your waist, his gentle, slow kisses along the back of your neck. The way his eyes light up every time he so much as glimpses at you, and all you can think, as your smile never dims, is this what it’s like to be happy again? When he lingers above you after you both freshen up, his frilly hair tickles your forehead, your hands run along his bare chest, landing on his shoulders then tracing to his neck, you are so captivated with him, you forget about the world still turning outside of your bedroom walls.

Hoseok has never felt this way for anyone before, not until he met you. The first day back in the restaurant a couple years ago, he never dreamed he would ever awaken to you cuddled in his arms, longing for his embrace, and leaving traces of kisses upon his face, giggling at his jokes, wanting to learn more about him, the same as he wants to learn everything about you. His finger runs along the side of your face as he cherishes every ounce of your beauty shining from your heart out onto your glowing countenance. The words he’s been dying to say are waiting to leave him, your gaze never faltering as he inches to press a loving kiss on your lips.

“I love you,”

You’re stunned at first, the evidence is held by the way your heart skips, but you have never felt joy so astounding as it waves across your heart, your hands still placed behind his neck, you’re nearly speechless, the words close to escaping your lips-

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

“Ah, shit!” you groan, shutting the alarm clock off as the two of you hastily get ready for work. Arriving at your job lately has been filled with light teasing, and prolonged questions especially when your coworkers have noticed the change in your step, dancing around the tables, humming little ditties, snapping your fingers until you take someone’s order. Hoseok still comes to get his pancakes on a daily, the two of you remaining professional although you’d do anything not to bury the desire to smother him with kisses all over his handsome face.

One morning, after Hoseok left the restaurant to head to work, M appears by your side, slamming her crossed arms on the counter.

“He said it, didn’t he,” She accuses, her knowing grin meets her eyes. You can’t stop the smile forming on your lips, as you continue to fiddle with a bracelet Hoseok gifted you. “He did!” M gasps, pulling you into a tight hug. Your best friend has shipped this relationship since the beginning, she has proclaimed, and there is no one else you’d want to share your joy with than her. “Double date this Friday?” She beams whenever you both pull away.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you smile, pulling her into another hug.

As another month slips away into time, many days of Hoseok hugging you from behind, cornering you with sultry kisses, asking you questions you’d never think he’d come up with, gifting you with his presence in every way he can. You’ll never get tired of him, you’ll never get tired of this, you think inwardly, gripping the front of his short-sleeved, flowery shirt hanging loose on his frame.

“Oh,” Hoseok groans, “Why do you do this to me?” He smiles, stealing a quick kiss. Once he pulls away, you can’t help but tease.

“I’m not done, yet,” pulling him to your lips again, feeling his smile once you do. You fall back onto the couch, his dark green ballcap still remains on his head, as his figure tangles with yours, getting lost in your kiss as he deepens it. His warm hand grips your waist causing your shirt to rise to reveal exposed skin he then caresses as his other hand rests beside you. Hands cupping his face, your thumbs stroke his cheeks, your gasps light as he trails his lips along your neck.

When you then return to kiss him, his warmth overtaking you, a knock on the door sounds. Jolting in surprise, you raise your head with furrowed eyebrows, taking a second to register it. You both are confused since you haven’t been expecting anyone.

“Maybe it’s M,” you shrug. Hoseok and you straighten your clothes, him fixing his fluffy bangs and setting his hat straighter. Walking to the door, you unlock the deadbolt, slowly opening it to reveal who is waiting behind it. When your eyes fall upon the figure, the shock engulfing you nearly shatters your entire being, your eyes widening as the pain stabs every millimeter of your entirety.

Jeongguk, your long-lost past, stands before you, hands in his pockets, his eyes holding sorrow as he swallows panicky, trying to gather his words and failing. You can’t move, you’re frozen in place, your words robbed from you, as you feel the world turn ice cold. “Hi,” he murmurs, his brown eyes barely holding your gaze, your hands wanting to tremble as one grips the door handle, the other gripping the door frame until your fingertips are ghost white. When Hoseok notices your tense shoulders, your body rigid, concern immediately dawns on him as he steps to stand by your side.

“[Y/N]?” Hoseok says. You turn to see him, his eyes staring ahead of him to discover your ex-boyfriend whose eyes enlarge at the sight of Hoseok who reaches to rest a hand on your back to steady you. Nausea wallows in the depths of your stomach, your fingertips brush Hoseok’s free wrist, him immediately meeting your frantic eyes. As if he reads your mind, he nods once in understanding ‘I won’t be far’ his eyes read, then flickering one more intimidating look at Jeongguk before turning into the apartment. You opened up to Hoseok about the breakup, but never once did you think the past would come to haunt you, especially now that you have given your heart to someone else. Someone who deserves it. Swiftly you close the door behind you, swallowing once before looking up at Jeongguk, tears pooling in your eyes as your body trembles, the pain so overwhelming, you’re surprised you’re still standing.

Jeongguk begins softly, “[Y/N],”

“Where have you been?”

Your tone is angrier than you expect, but can you really blame yourself? He left you without a warning, leaving you feeling worthless, trying to figure out how to manage the pain without any explanation. Without any closure. Jeongguk is tense, his dark hair covers his forehead, his thin lips part as he lets out a weary sigh.

“[Y/N],” he whispers, “I’m so sorry, I-”

“You’re sorry!?” You breathe in astonishment, still fighting the tears wanting to trail continuously down your face, your arms hugging yourself tight to suppress the shivering. “Seven months without a trace, and you’re sorry!?” Your whispered voice reveals the agony, Jeongguk wincing at the pain he’s caused, shame hovering his mien. How can someone you used to admire, someone you used to shower with warm embraces, share an irrevocable love betray you in the blink of an eye? It’s something you will never understand. Everything you once adored about him has faded with time, the pain subsided, you almost forgot about him entirely, until now. “Did you not think I deserved a warning?” You question, “A conversation!?”

He stares up at the dark night, his tired eyes trying to hide the tears threatening to spill onto his jacket. “I’m sorry, [Y/N]. I didn’t know what to do. I felt stuck. I felt-”

“And you didn’t consider that maybe I needed to know that?” You raise your hand in irritation, none of what he’s saying makes any sense. “I loved you.” You choke back a sob, “I would have done anything for you. How could you just dismiss it like that didn’t mean a damn thing to you?”

“[Y/N],” Chin quivering, his hands leave his pockets reaching in your direction.

“No!” you cry, backing away from him, “Don’t touch me.” Jeongguk settles his hands to his sides, not meeting your gaze as large tears stream down his cheeks, longing to comfort you though he knows he’s lost all opportunity to do so. “Tell me why,” you wipe at the tears, preparing yourself for whatever truth he may reveal, “After three years together, tell me why.”

Jeongguk runs a hand through his hair, his wounded expression hesitant, “It was the same routine every day.” He confesses, his voice thick with repressed pain, “I felt like I was living the same day on repeat over and over again until I just- I couldn’t take it anymore.” The words cut like knives, deep into your heart, tearing at you leaving gaping wounds in their wake. Jeongguk had become bored with you. He became so bored with the life the two of you lived, that he just left it all behind to obtain whatever he thought he would find. Now it all makes sense, the nights he stopped holding you close, the empty conversations, the distance you brushed off as him needing space, it all comes back to you at once. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I wanted to see the world. I wanted to-” Words die on his tongue as he clenches his jaw, “I wanted to-”

Anger bubbles as your hands form into fists, “Hold on,” you mutter through clenched teeth, pulling the door open, stomping to the bedroom, Hoseok’s voice calling your name, pain searing through you as you thrust open the closet door, tossing things out of the way until you find it. Gripping it in your hands, you trample back to the doorway, shoving it in Jeongguk’s hands, him nearly dropping it to shatter in pieces. When he turns the jar, his mouth opens in surprise, the word Ireland stares back at him.

“What?” He breathes, his voice hardly audible.

“I was saving as much as I could for a trip to Ireland. For us! For you!” You say through clenched teeth, the anger still boiling as you try to steady your breathing. You can tell he’s alarmed, and if he thought he was abashed enough as it is, nothing tops the humiliation he feels as his eyes remain glued to the jar full of money meant for a dream the two of you could have lived together.

“I don’t- I don’t know what to say,”

“Seems like you never did,” your comment is harsh, but you stand your ground because if there is anything you will not do, is to let him think for one second, he will ever stand a chance of winning you back. “I wasn’t enough for you.” You shake your head slowly, “I see that now,” Reaching for the jar, Jeongguk hands it to you in defeat, his heart torn in so many pieces for what he’s done, he knows he will never forgive himself for what he did to you. To someone who loved him unconditionally. To someone, he wished he would have realized he had when he had you.

“[Y/N], I’m so sorry, please. Just please know that,” he whispers, his eyes pleading as your heart wrenches at his words, wishing the pain of this situation would officially heal. Your quavering hand searches for the door handle behind you, your demeanor resonating nothing but true anguish. Staring at his face, his dimples visible from his pressed lips as his chin trembles, tears reappearing in the eyes you used to get lost in, the line of his jaw you used to trace dreamily every morning when first waking up, every desire to hear his voice is gone. Disappeared forever in the past where memories of him will linger but will never be longed for. With one more stare, your body weak from the shock, you gather enough strength to let it all go. To let him go.

“Goodbye, Jeongguk,” you whisper, turning the knob to the front door, “Goodbye.”

You don’t look back, and you don’t plan to. Shutting the door behind you, your back remains against it as you squeeze your eyes shut, wanting to slip to the floor, but instead you set your Ireland jar on the ground. Your body feels so drained from all your nerves being shot that you’re not sure what else to do other than to remain frozen in place.

“[Y/N]?” Hoseok’s voice is barely a whisper. Opening your eyes, you meet Hoseok’s, his lips turned down in a devastated frown, his heart broken at the pain he sees you’re going through. With a quick pace, you walk toward him, collapsing into his arms, the wails escaping you as every tear you’ve tried to hold back stream like waterfalls down your face. You can’t find any words, just crying the hurt away, Hoseok holds you tight against his chest. When your sobs gradually cease, Hoseok notices the jar near the door, and with respect, he kept his distance from the door earlier, letting your conversation between you and your ex-boyfriend remain private. Pulling away, you follow his gaze, guilt overwhelming you because you never told him about the savings jar. Mostly since it was originally created with the idea of going with a previous partner. Now, it’s simply savings for yourself, though it will take some time for you to see it that way.

When Hoseok picks up the jar, he reads the logo in the center, shock overwhelming him. Little do you know, ever since you told him months ago that your dream was to go to Ireland, he also has been putting extra money in a savings jar with the intent on surprising you one day. Though he wants to tell you, especially with how surreal this whole situation is, he doesn’t. Between the money you saved along with his, he knows that it’s enough to cover the cost of the whole trip between you both. Inwardly, he comes up with a plan, if his job is okay with it, and possibly your job, then maybe he can continue arranging your surprise after all.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, hugging yourself tightly in order to find some comfort, sniffing back at the sting of tears brimming your eyes.

“Why are you apologizing?” Hoseok sets the jar on the coffee table in front of the couch, immediately pulling you into his arms. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Hearing his words moves you, and you cling to him, never wanting to let him go as long as you live. You’re not sure what else to say or do other than to hold him, letting his arms bring a comfort you’ve fallen in love with, his fingers stroking the line of your spine, his warm lips moving to press a tender kiss on yours. When he rests his forehead against yours, your hands hold his wrists as he cups your face, the both of you enthralled with each other without even having to use words. You pull away momentarily, just enough to stare into Hoseok’s soft, brown eyes. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you whisper for only him to hear. When Hoseok’s eyes reveal tears, he’s tried so hard to hold back, his bottom lip trembling, you finally say the words you’ve felt within your heart ever since the night of your first kiss with him,

“Before you gave me the dandelion seeds,” Tears spill onto your cheeks, your voice wavering, “you asked me what the biggest wish I ever wished was,” you recall, the memory swarming in your mind feels as if it was lived just yesterday, “At the time, I honestly wasn’t sure. Not that I really had a second to answer you, but one thing I longed for, especially at that moment, was happiness.” You wet your lips, Hoseok’s eyes never leaving yours as he listens to your every word, “A few days after you gave the dandelions to me, I did make a wish.” You admit, a smile adorning your face, “I realized that every time you walked into those doors, I never stopped smiling. Every time you saw me, you took the chance to know me, finding a way to make me smile again and again,” you look down timidly for a moment, a sweet giggle escaping your lips, “When I made my wish, Hoseok, I wished for you,” Hoseok’s arms squeeze you closer, his face cuddling to yours as joy flies within his soul. You meet his gaze one more time,

“You are my happiness, Hoseok,” your heart soars, “And, I love you with all I am.”

Four months later…

“Hey, Hobi?” You bellow from your bedroom as you shuffle through your drawers, “I swear I put it in here,” you mutter to yourself, tossing each article of clothing out of the way to glimpse for what you’re looking for.

“Yes, [Y/Nickname]?” Hoseok’s voice calls back to you, the sound of his footsteps nearing. When he pauses at the door frame, he leans against it, an amused expression on his face as he watches you struggle, his hands slipping into his jeans’ pockets.

You briefly glare at him trying to stifle the grin wanting to tug onto your lips, “Where is my flower crop top, you know, the one I wore recently? I swear I put it in the drawer.”

“Did you check the closet?” He asks, and you pause for a moment.

“I did,” you murmur, putting your fingertips to your mouth as you begin to chew at the bottom of your lip, “I wanted to wear it again this weekend when I have a girl’s night out with LenLen and M.”

You’re in your work uniform in preparation to leave in the next ten minutes, and you’re nearly driving yourself mad by not being able to find your current favorite top.

“Did you check the laundry? The washer?” Hoseok questions, you are nodding in reply.

Raking a hand through your hair, you heave a heavy sigh, “I’m just gonna go make some toast real quick. I’ll just look for it tonight,” You notice in your peripheral vision, Hoseok chuckling to himself, but you brush it off, throwing some toast into the toaster. After a minute, it’s ready and you set it on a plate spreading some of your favorite jam along the crusty slice. When warm arms encompass you from behind, you nearly melt, leaning your head back as Hoseok plants a warm kiss on the side of your neck. “I loathe you,” you joke, your smile so wide, butterflies tickle your tummy, you turn enough to steal a quick kiss, letting the sensation of his lips linger. When you desire for one more, instead you’re greeted with a likewise smile,

“I didn’t know people like to kiss somebody they despise,”

“Oh,” you playfully slap his shoulder, returning to the toast you’re eager to stuff your face with. “I need to leave for work.” You state, taking a large bite from your breakfast.

“No, you don’t,” Hoseok’s words catch you by surprise as you turn fully to face him, the toast still in your mouth for your second bite. A few strands of loose hair fall into your face.

“I wish,” you groan, taking a third bite of the toast, “But, ya girl’s gotta make a living somehow.” You shrug, turning back around to unplug the appliance.

There’s a pause for a moment, your gorgeous boyfriend eyeing you, his dark, fluffy hair close to covering his soft eyes. “What if-” He begins, inching closer to you, “What if I were to tell you that you really don’t have to go to work today?” Slowly, you turn to face him once again, staring at him in confusion, “I’m serious, what if I were to tell you that for the next two weeks you will be off work? Too far away to be available for them to call you in?”

Eyeing him suspiciously, you cross your arms, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips, “Well, it’s Monday, don’t you have to work?” You counter, your toast mostly devoured at this point. When Hoseok chuckles, you playfully scoff, rolling your eyes, “You’re so full of it.”

You nudge your shoulder to him as you brush past, reaching for your purse and car keys, preparing to walk out the front door.

“You really don’t have to go to work today,” Hoseok, still laughing, you whirl around to face him, your hands landing on your hips in humored irritation. “Or, for the next two weeks if I’m being precise.”

“Jung Hoseok,” you huff, “if you do not tell me what the hell is going on, I will knock you into yesterday so fast-”

“Whoa, whoa,” he holds his hands out in mock defense, he’s still laughing it takes him a moment before he continues, “I mean you can totally do that if you’d like, but I would hate for the second ticket to Ireland to go to waste.”

What. Did he just say?

Your limbs are limp, freezing in place, your jaw drops, your eyes widen, tears of shock pooling along your eyelids, “What?” You breathe, your purse falling from your arm as well as your keys from your numb fingers. “Did you just say?” Hoseok nods, your heart hammering beneath you as you gaze at the love of your life standing before you with his never-ending smile.

“You’re not going to work for the next two weeks because you will be in Ireland,” his words are loving as he speaks, “With me.”

“You mean it?” Your voice comes out in an excited choke as adrenaline rushes through your veins. “Hoseok, do you mean it? Is this for real!?”

“I mean it, [Y/N]. One hundred percent,” And with that, you sprint to him, jumping into his arms, he lifts you up, spinning you around multiple times, tears streaming down your face in pure happiness.

“WE’RE GOING TO IRELAND!” You shout, him setting you down, the two of you enveloped in each other’s arms, swaying side to side as you cry into his shoulder. A dream you have dreamed for so long is finally coming true all because of the man standing right before you. Gasping, you pull away,

“I need to pack!” You freak, your fingers gripping his biceps absentmindedly.

“Already done,” Hoseok chirps, his eyes dancing when you meet his gaze with furrowed eyebrows.

“What about M and LenLen?”

“Were in on it the whole time,” He winks.

“What?”

“I already packed our bags,” He muses, “The top you’re missing? Amongst many other articles of clothing I managed to sneak past you, are awaiting in packed bags in the trunk of my car.” You stare at him in amazement, so speechless you’re not even sure if you’re comprehending what he’s saying by the shock overpowering your mind. “Also, LenLen and Monnie planned that trip to distract you from becoming suspicious,” Hoseok pinches your chin with his fingertips, “Oh,” He says, “Our flight leaves in less than three hours, so I don’t know about you, but I think we should get going.”

“Well,” You breathe, “What are you waiting for, slowpoke!? Let’s go!” You grab his hand, dragging him headfirst through the front door, locking it behind the two of you as you both jog to his car, his laugh echoing in the air- the both of you are ecstatic for the journey ahead. Once the two of you arrive at the airport, you both figure out luggage and board the plane, Hoseok lets you sit at the window, your eyes gazing at the land below you, your fingers intertwined with his, basking in the scenery you never dreamed you’d finally see.

As your eyes remain outside the window, Hoseok’s eyes remain on you as he falls in love with you all over again- watching you stare at the earth below in astonishment, every now and then nudging him to peek outside at whatever captured your vision. Unbeknownst to you, he has so much more in store. He planned this trip from beginning to end, and though nervous jitters surround his heart, there is nowhere else he’d rather be, than right by your side,

holding your hand until the end of time.

Greenery sways in the wind, the deep green losing its glisten as the sun sets ahead, the cattle spread across the field grazing among the grass, the purple and orange hues reflecting in the sky as a gentle, warm breeze wisps through your hair. Hoseok closes his eyes, his chin pointed upward enjoying the feel of it all the same as you are, the land so immense it’s as though the few dirt paths never end. His fingers are interlaced with yours, a mason jar on the center of the table- previously refilled with numerous questions he had yet to ask you- two freshly picked dandelions lay on the other side of the jar, the deep gold of the petals vibrant, their fragrance meeting your nose as you inhale the sweet scent. Ireland. A land you’ve longed to tread for so many years, and here you are, sitting in the country, basking in the scenery encompassing the two of you.

“There’s one more question left,” Hoseok speaks, a loving grin forming on his pink lips when your dreamy gaze meets his.

“I know,” you whisper, him squeezing your hand. Staring at the final piece of folded paper at the bottom of the mason jar, with your free hand, you reach into it, noticing it is held down by one small piece of tape. That’s funny, you wonder, scraping at the corner of the tape as tediously as you can. Struggling, you hardly notice Hoseok rising to his feet, scooting off to side out of your peripherals, his fingers leaving yours momentarily to adjust at his shirt collar. Once the tape loosens just enough to remove from the bottom of the jar, you bring the folded paper closer to you, using both hands to carefully unfold it.

The second you register the words staring back at you, tears brim your eyes as a gasp escapes your lips, bringing your fingertips to your mouth, your gaze turns to land upon Hoseok, kneeled before you, tears welling in his own eyes as his lips tremble, reaching into his pocket to reveal a small, black velvet box, your heart pounding within your chest as you let out a breathy cry.

“[Y/N],” Hoseok begins, your fingers covering beneath your eyes as you wipe every tear that pours. “When I first met you, there was something about you that made me want to know you more and more every day.

Maybe it’s the way you smiled at me every morning when I arrived at the restaurant. Or, the way your eyes lit up the moment you greeted someone at every table. Or, your cheery voice when you’re around your friends and family. Or, the way you stay strong despite what is thrown at you.

But what really got me, what really inspired me, is the way that you see the world.” You gaze at the man before you, getting lost in his brown eyes, your heart soaring with his every word,

“Wishes instead of weeds. Something that is seen to be negative, you see as the most beautiful source to decorate the earth. Something that you can wish on to bring positivity. To bring hope.” Hoseok pauses, a tear streaming down his face, “I knew when I met you that you were someone special. But, that day, that day particularly, I knew right then that I wanted you in my life regardless.” Hoseok wets his lips, as another tear spills on his cheek, “Forever,” he breathes, “[Y/N]?” He opens the velvet box exposing a beautiful, shimmering diamond ring, “Will you make my biggest wish I’ve ever wished come true, and marry me?”

When your wide smile adorns your face, an excited gasp leaves your lips,

“I thought you’d never ask!”

[pilot-boi]

Snowed In

The first snow of the school year was shaping up to be quite the storm. Not the blow your house down kind of storm, but definitely the bury your house in mountains of frozen water kind of storm.

Ren just wants to get some studying done if he can, and then stay in before the snow buries the whole campus. But he might not be getting buried alone, which might be less irritating than he thinks.

(Secret Santa for @katmotif )

Oh the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful. And since we’ve no place to go, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

AO3 LINK

The sky was growing dark outside, and stars would be twinkling into view if it weren’t for the thick blanket of clouds cushioning the sky. The air was crisp and cold, warning of frost and even colder weather to come.

After days of threatening, and warnings from the campus weather service that nobody heeded, the clouds that had been looming all week were finally fulfilling every student’s wish. Flakes of snow drifted silently from the heavens, dusting the roofs of buildings and cars alike.

While it was getting dark, it was not quite late enough for the streets to be abandoned. So occasionally a car would trundle past, making spotlights in the snow with its headlights. Or a particularly unlucky student would be seen trudging back to their dorm room through the gathering drifts.

One such student was Lie Ren, who was shuffling back to his dorm after a day of studying at the local coffee joint. As soon as the flakes started actually accumulating, he’d waved goodbye to his roommate Jaune, who was one of the unlucky employees, and had headed out the door.

Ren didn’t have a car, and he usually elected to walk around campus instead of employing some sort of transportation. So if he wanted to make it back to his room before the streets became completely un-navigable, he unfortunately had to leave much sooner than normal.

Jaune was not going to have fun biking back through all of this, poor guy.

So there Ren was, messenger bag slung over one shoulder, scarf wrapped tightly around his face, and water soaking through his shoes and into his socks. His breath fogged up the air in front of his face, and, more annoyingly, also fogged up his glasses.

Who needed eyesight anyway? He was seriously debating just taking them off, if only so he could freaking see.

Reaching his building, he swiped his card at the door, waved at the desk attendant, and hiked up all the flights of stairs to his room. He should have the room to himself for the rest of the evening, since Jaune was likely to be occupied at his job for the remainder of the night.

Ren wanted nothing more than to just sit at his desk with a cup of tea and let his mind relax into the comforting haze of schoolwork he already knew the answers to.

All his hopes were dashed when he got nearly tackled to the ground by what looked at first glance like a high-speed ball of cotton candy.

“Reeeeennnn!!” yelled the cotton candy ball, who revealed herself to be Nora Valkyrie. “You’re back already?” she demanded, already dragging him back into his dorm room.

“Nora? How are you here?” he asked, allowing himself to be dragged out of the hallway, through the common area, and into his room. “Did you bully Jaune into giving you his key? Again?” he continued, sighing slightly as he shrugged his scarf off his shoulders.

Nora pouted and plopped herself on his bed, kicking her legs petulantly. “Ren, do you have so little faith in me? I would never! Such baseless accusations, how could you?”

“Nora.” He wasn’t even looking at her as he took off his coat, but he could feel her rolling her eyes at him.

“Okay fine, yeah I did,” she replied, grinning cheekily. “But I promise it’s the last time!”

“Really?” he commented, grabbing his electric kettle and leaving Nora alone in the room to fill it with the water he needed. He didn’t believe her in the slightest. “I don’t believe you in the slightest.”

“Weeeeellll...” he heard Nora trail off noncommittally, in a way that didn’t get Ren’s hopes up at all. “I promise it’s the last time I steal Jaune’s room key!” Ren leveled an unconvinced look at her as he came back into the room. “No really, it is! I’m gonna get Ruby to 3D print me a copy in her next lab!”

She seemed extremely proud of her solution to the problem of how she was going to continue to break into his room. “Nora, I don’t think that’s allowed,” he reminded her, settling the kettle back onto its stand and setting it to boil.

Nora waved him off. “Pffft! Sure it’s not allowed! But it was either this, or breaking out the lock-picking kit Sun got me for my birthday.” Ren reminded himself to remind Jaune to complain to Neptune to yell at his boyfriend for giving Nora the disastrous present. “Besides, you never answered my first question!”

“Which question was that, exactly?” he asked, pulling out a couple of mugs, green tea for him, and specifically the box of non-caffeinated hot chocolate for Nora. Ren’s chances of getting any actual work done were lowered drastically by Nora being here, but they would be non-existent if she managed to get her hands on caffeine.

“Why you’re back so early!” she reminded him, stealing the container of marshmallows before he could stop her. Popping a few in her mouth, she commented, “I thought I’d be waiting around for-EV-er for you!”

“Have you been here that long already?” Ren asked, raising a fond eyebrow at her. He casually pulled the box of marshmallows back out of her hands and ignored her when she pouted. “If you eat all of these, there won’t be any left for your cocoa.”

“So what? They’re still ending up in my belly where they rightfully belong.”

“Now you’re ignoring my question.”

“Hmm? Oh right!” She bounced on his bed, kicking her shoes off to join Ren’s pair placed neatly at the foot of his bed. “But yeah my construction class got cancelled so I got done early. But you usually don’t get back until like freaking midnight!”

It was true. As much as the coffee shop was rarely quiet and he tended to get less work done than he would like, even there he still managed to get sucked into his work and not notice how much time was passing.

More times than not one of the employees would have to usher him out with a sheepish and apologetic smile because he was keeping them from closing up.

“So what’s the deal with that?” she asked, flopping onto her back to stare at him upside down. “Why’re you back already?”

“It’s snowing,” Ren replied simply, nodding at the darkening sky outside his window and the flakes that drifted past. “I wanted to get back before the roads disappeared,” he explained, lifting the whistling kettle off its stand and pouring twin streams of hot water into their mugs.

“What?!” Nora exclaimed, tumbling off his bed and somehow miraculously landing on her feet in a show of nimbleness that definitely would’ve eluded his roommate. “It’s snowing and you didn’t tell me?!”

Ren rolled his eyes at her mock display of offense, hand pressed to her chest and everything. “How was I supposed to know it was going to snow today specifically?” He set his tea to steep in one mug and poured a spoonful of cocoa mix into the other. “You’re the one who’s been waiting all week for this.”

He passed Nora her mug, who had to stop her bouncing to save herself from the burns the sugary drink would definitely give her despite her love of it.

Finally settling down at his desk with his bag and his books and a mountain of papers to finish, Ren got to work on his work. Not his work for work, of course, but damn if his psych professor didn’t make that class feel like a full time job anyway.

Nora started telling him about her day, and his mouth tilted up into a smile in spite of himself. After about a minute her mug was already empty, refilled twice more, and then abandoned. She set it next to his, and without thinking he removed it from the paper she’d set it on, and rotated it so that it faced the same way as his own mug.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ren could see her pacing back and forth and making huge gestures with her arms as she explained some disaster that a fellow stage hand got into. Ren knew that Nora knew that he was only half-listening, but he loved hearing about her day more than he was ready to acknowledge.

He’d comment every so often, and her eyes would light up every time he responded. Even the glimpses he got of her bright-eyed freckle-faced smile were enough to warm him more than the tea ever could.

After about a half an hour of no interruptions, filled with blissful quiet, productive work, and no cocoa refills, he started to get suspicious. Nora not babbling extensively was… oddly off-putting.

It was like when a canary suddenly went silent in a coal mine. You knew something had gone terribly wrong with the universe.

But honestly what was most strange was that he missed her rambling. Ren would’ve thought that she would distract him, but somehow the silence of his room was more deafening than she ever could have been.

He didn’t know how, but he’d gotten used to her stream of consciousness. And now with it gone, when normally he wouldn’t have even noticed that it was happening, its absence was louder than her actual speaking.

Unable to focus on working now, for reasons that eluded him, he sighed and tilted back into his chair. It was really coming down out there, he would barely see the sidewalk outside. And judging by the sky that he couldn’t see, night had well and truly fallen.

And then his eyes landed on Nora.

She was laying sprawled on his bed, one arm looped around his pillow and one hanging over the edge. Still fully clothed, red hair falling like a halo around her head, and completely and utterly asleep.

Well that explained the quiet.

Ren just stared at her for a moment, struck dumb for reasons he couldn’t quite articulate. Something about how he was just now realizing that he’d never seen her quite this peaceful before.

Still fully mobile off course, not even sleep could down Nora Valkyrie completely. Even as he watched she rolled over, pushed the pillow she was holding off the bed, and grumbled something about pancakes under her breath at now finding the pillow missing. Or maybe it was at the missing pancakes, who could say.

But she seemed calm. And exhausted, now that she was keeping still enough for him to really look at her. Dark circles painted the pale skin beneath her eyes, and her naturally frizzy hair stuck up more than even it normally did.

Ren stood up, took one step towards her, and hesitated.

Should he wake her up?

No. He couldn’t wake her up, especially not now that he saw how much she needed the sleep. And, he glanced out the window again, especially not now that the snow was making it dangerous nigh impossible for her to walk back to her own dorm. Even if she wasn’t exhausted Ren didn’t know if he’d be comfortable with her walking back alone in this weather.

And she looked so comfortable, so who was he to move her, really?

Sighing, Ren resolved to let her stay sleeping in his bed and also resolved to bunk on the floor. Or maybe he’d borrow Jaune’s room, as it looked like his roommate had given up on returning home.

After one final sip of tea, he pulled the drawstring to close the blinds and clicked off his lamp. Now the room was lit only by the cool light of the moon. Nora’s hair shone like fire.

He pulled his sweater off, determined that at least one of them would be going to sleep tonight in the correct attire, and folded it neatly. He climbed up onto the bed, intending to pull the blanket more firmly around Nora’s shoulders before leaving, but instead he yelped when she grabbed him and pulled him down.

Lacking the pillow she’d been holding, it looked like she’d made do with him.

Ren froze in her grasp, only remembering to breathe when he saw that she was in fact still asleep. Freckles like a million constellations layered on top of each other speckled their way across her nose and cheeks. Her eyelashes were long and a paler orange than her hair.

Without thinking, Ren wriggled one arm out of her tight grasp and brushed a stray lock of hair off her face.

He froze again, flushed as deep a pink as his eyes, his arm hovering in the air above them. Why the hell did he do that? What if she woke up, what would he do then? What if-

Nora mumbled something else under her breath, and Ren calmed down. He willed the flush out of his face and in froze. Good. Still asleep.

And he was still trapped, but there wasn’t much he could do about that now. Actually...

One arm was pinned to his side, but the other was now free, and having already decided to not wake her up, he instead pulled the blanket up the rest off the way to cover them both.

Shifting as much as he could, he got comfortable and resigned himself to a long night of probably no sleep.

Nora’s grip relaxed, and she nuzzled into his chest. Maybe she somehow knew that he wasn’t going anywhere. This warmed Ren more than the blanket was, and a soft smile spread on his face for a person who was too asleep to notice.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

The snow fell outside, blanketing the world in white flakes. Ren would normally have watched them drift past his window, but he was already fast asleep.

[szamsson]

are you writing more chapters of the sander bad boy fic you did ages ago?

Part 1

(I might make it like a 5 parter if ya’ll like it)

When Sander entered his apartment, he first checked if anyone was home. He knew that his parents had plans to be out all night, as per usual, but he just wanted to double check. He immediately sprang into action, ordering a slab of bear to be delivered in the next hours, shoving all dirty laundry into his cupboard and clearing all the space on the coffee table. He had no idea why he was nervous. He wanted to get laid but given the innocence of the other boy he didn’t know exactly how this was going to work out. He thought, worst case scenario, Robbe would freak and he’d just meet his friends wherever they were tonight. At least he’d be able to scope out the precocious little junior and see what his deal was.

 Sander could read him like a book. The fake confidence and the niggling, underlying nervousness and insecurity, with a touch of what might be internalised homophobia? He wasn’t quite sure yet. What he didn’t understand was what had suddenly made Robbe become so bold. He’d been semi flirting with Robbe from afar for the better half of the year (amongst others but he wouldn’t mention that). So, what happened to spur Robbe on now. He pulled out his phone as he felt it vibrate against his thigh, smirking as he saw the influx of messages from an unknown number.

Robbe: Hey

Robbe: Sorry, it’s Robbe.

Robbe: You know the guy from outside school today.

Robbe: It’s fine if you don’t remember me, I mean why would you.

Robbe: Or if you think I’m pathetic, because I basically threw myself at you.

 Sander chuckled at the uncertainty in the messages. He was so damn cute, and Sander could tell that this was the real Robbe, the false bravado he had earlier today completely stripped back through text messaging.

Sander: Of course, I remember you, and no pathetic is not the verb I’d use to describe you. Adorable? Hot? Sexxyyyyy… All of the above maybe.

 Sander laughed out loud again as he watched the typing bubbles appear then disappear, then appear and disappear on a loop for the next 10 minutes. Sander knew that was going to throw the younger boy, he sensed he wasn’t the type to take compliments well. Sander waited; the ball was in the younger boys court now. Eventually, his phone vibrated again.

Robbe: So you said I could maybe come over?

Yes. This is what Sander wanted. He wasn’t going to pressure the boy that wasn’t his style. And he still wasn’t even really sure of the younger boys’ intentions, so he wanted Robbe to feel like he was taking the reins. He knew his reputation and he knew Robbe knew it too, so there was really only one reason Robbe would be coming over. Sander was used to it, he wasn’t known for his witty repartee, he was known as the bad boy who fucked around in every sense of the word. Sander set off a quick text with his address and told Robbe to come over at any time.

Robbe was nervous as he took the elevator up to Sanders apartment. He lived in a nice part of town, in a nice building and Robbe wasn’t nervous about leaving his bike tucked up in a corner out the front. He’d forgotten his bike lock on his hectic race to shower and try on three different hoodies before putting the one that he wore most days back on and leaving the house. He didn’t know how he thought tonight was going to go, he honestly didn’t have any expectation. Of course, he originally wanted…well that. But the more he thought about it the more his palms were sweating, and he was starting to feel apprehensive.

He thought Sander would be the best person to be his first time. He was clearly well experienced; he didn’t know any of Robbe’s friends and he was hot as hell. But the more he thought about Sander the more he was intrigued by the boy. He only knew what everyone talked about and Robbe knew there had to be more to his story than that. He was intrigued and had an overwhelming urge to get to know the older boy.

He held his breathe as he knocked at the door, quickly running a hand through his hair, as if he could do anything to fix it now. Sander opened the door and immediately smiled, pulling the younger boy in by the hand. He looked so good. He was wearing sweatpants that clung to his slim hips nicely and a tight black t shirt. His white hair was dishevelled like he had been running his hands through it, and his tan looked even deeper under the dim lighting of the apartment.

Robbe looked about him taking in the apartment. It wasn’t huge, probably the same size as the flat share, but it was neat and homely. There was a soft looking leather couch with heaps of throw blankets and pillows heaped on it in the living room, where Sander led him, pushing Robbe down as he collapsed, sinking into the warm couch grinning.

“Hey cutie,” Sander said, leaning down from his position towering over Robbe to give him a kiss on the cheek. The kiss was really close to the corner of his mouth and Robbe just about melted into contact. “Beer?” Sander asked, already practically skipping away towards the kitchen.

 “Um sure,” Robbe said, still slightly dazed at the contact. Whilst Sander was gone, he shook his head and gave himself a mental pep talk. Get it together Robbe, jeez. Sander returned handing him a beer, putting two extras on the coffee table and sitting alarmingly close to Robbe on the couch. He could feel the body heat up against his side and he had to do everything in his power not to melt into the touch.

 “So, how are you?” Sander said a little teasingly, eyes sparkling as he took a sip from his beer, clearly noticing the way Robbe’s eyes followed the bottles journey.

Robbe coughed as he hastily took a sip of his beer that went down the wrong pipe. “Im—good,” he sputtered, then seemed to gain control of himself. “Thanks for having me over” Robbe said trying to do his best impression of a flirty voice as he took a tentative shuffle towards Sander on the couch.

Sander just laughed at him, chucking an arm around his shoulders playfully. “Right to business hey Robbe? You’re not even going to romance me first? Some wining and dining?”

                                                            ----

Sander could tell by the boy’s body language he wasn’t sure and was once again putting on the false bravado. Sander didn’t want Robbe to think he only invited him over here to have a quick fuck and then see ya thanks, make sure to give me 5 stars on booking.com on your way out. The younger boy intrigued him, and he wasn’t sure why. His big bambi eyes held such innocence but confidence at the same time, something so alluring to Sander. But apparently Robbe was only interested in one thing.

Putting his bottle down on the table, Robbe got really bold and threw a leg over his lap, straddling Sander on the couch as he wrapped his arms around his neck. Okay, Sander thought, this is all Robbe wanted. He couldn’t help swallowing down the disappointment. But he guessed this was what he was good for.

He stared up at Robbe waiting for the younger boy to make the first move. Robbe stared down at him, smiling slightly as he shifted on Sander’s lap and got more comfortable. Then in the most confusing move of confidence and hesitance mixed into one, Robbe leaned down and took Sanders mouth. His lips were sweet and soft, and Sander moaned into them as he gripped Robbe’s waist. The boy knew how to kiss, or maybe Sander was just developing a crush on the younger boy’s sweet mouth. He nipped at Robbe’s bottom lip which made Robbe gasp into his mouth.

They made out for what felt like forever but couldn’t have been more than 10 minutes, when Sander started moving things along. He kissed down Robbe’s jaw and into his neck, sucking and softly biting marks into the pale skin. Robbe was moaning and gasping, so responsive at just making out that Sander wasn’t sure he would make it to the main event. His hand wrapped around Robbe’s ribs, bringing it down over his stomach and inching lower until he felt Robbe’s entire body stiffen. Sander looked back up at him, trying to understand the look in his eyes.

Panic. All Sander saw was panic and it looked like Robbe was fighting his own brain inside his head. Sander wouldn’t push, it was obvious the boy wasn’t ready for that and if he was honest, he’s be happy to just make out for the rest of the night, maybe order some food, talk a little. He wasn’t going to push anything physical, he wasn’t that type of guy. All of a sudden Robbe’s hand fell down to grip Sander through his sweatpants and he nearly jumped off the couch at the contact. He moaned and kissed towards Robbe’s ear again when he came back to himself and realised Robbe was as stiff as a board in his arms. He sat back and Robbe had his eyes screwed shut as if he was in pain.

Sander grabbed Robbe’s hand off his pants and brought it to his lips.

“Robbe…” Sander asked tentatively. Robbe was having some sort of battle with his emotions and suddenly his eyes went wide and he stuttered an apology.

“I’m—I’m sorry, sorry no I can do it now, I’m just” Robbe let out a frustrated groan and pulled Sander back to his body, pulling his t shirt over his head, “I’m just being a baby, I’m sorry, you can do it now.”

Okay nope. Sander was putting a stop to this right now. He carefully pushed Robbe off his lap, finding his discarded t shirt on the floor and carefully pulling it back over Robbe’s head. Robbe looked miserable and stared at him in shock and embarrassment that was completely unwarranted.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he said almost desperately now, “I’m not being a tease you can do it I swear, just do it.” And the fact that Robbe couldn’t even say the word sex, or fucking or literally anything was enough of a sign that Sander had made the right choice to stop. Robbe put his head in his hands and Sander could tell he was about 6 seconds from bolting.

He pulled Robbe’s face up so that they were inches apart and said, in a completely casual tone, “It’s fine baby,” kissing him lightly on the lips. “How about we order some pizza and you can actually tell me some stuff about you huh?” Sander said, reaching for his phone and winking at Robbe, who still looked so sad.

“I’m ruining your night,” Robbe mumbled.

“Hey!” Sander said, giving him a light tap on the chin, “I didn’t invite you here for that.”

Robbe gave him an unbelieving look.

“Okay maybe I did a little, but you intrigue me.” He said simply, “Now tell me your favourite pizza topping before I order something ghastly with pineapple.”

Robbe visibly relaxed at that and mocked outrage, “Hey I like pineapple on pizza!”

Sander jokingly sighed and shook his head, “So much to teach you my little angel.”

[mwolf0epsilon]

Silly prompt Idea for if you feel like it: BATIM but the monsters are chill to humans but are still unnerving; Sammy doesn't care about sacrificing people and is instead constantly trying to commit theophagy, Alice just covers the ruined half of her face with a mask instead of seeking perfection but sings songs about dismembering people anyway, the projectionist is tame and comes when you 'Pspspspspsps' at him but he also plays with corpses. etc.

Summary: Sometimes Joey liked to shake things up a bit to keep Henry on his toes, but this particular loop was probably the weirdest of them all...

---

[[MORE]]

Joey Drew was a creature of positively maddening habit. He'd demonstrated this since he was but a little child, eager to run from the church service and get grass stains on his Sunday best, ready to go on imaginary adventures with his one best friend in the whole wide world. Indeed, a day could not go by where Joey and Henry didn't play pretend in the latter's backyard.

Now as an old and bitter man in a wheelchair, the same still proved to be unfortunately true, although the setting was much different. He'd drag himself out of bed every day, completed his routine, then off he went to put his "toys" and supposed best friend through the same nightmare over and over again.

Surely doing the same old charade had to grow stale even for him, right? Well... That's why once in a blue moon, Joey tried to get a little... Creative.

Henry found that he hated those times more than being a prisoner to a never-ending loop, because the unpredictable nature of Joey's creativity was truly something out of his nightmares. Such was his dilemma now.

The first sign that all was not as it should be was the fact the pedestals that allowed the Ink Machine to be turned on, were already prepared and ready to go. Items placed in their rightful positions awaiting the flick of a switch. The second sign was the apprehensive behaviour of the demon, upon Henry triggering its first appearence in this loop. It didn't jump out at him, instead merely pulled itself out of the ink with something akin to frustration.

"You too uh?" Henry felt for the wretched creature, knowing that it was as unwilling a participant in this show as he was. He also knew that it disliked when Joey shook up the plot a bit because it often ended with it finding a more painful demise.

The Ink Demon said nothing in return, but motioned for him to go with it's uneven limbs. Different or not, the path was a linear one and Henry had to go about everything as if it were a normal run... Except it was anything but. The Music Department was proof enough of that.

He fell through the floor, had the usual visions, acquired a fire axe, and was ready to find the music director creeping about as usual. Instead, the old veteran came face to face with a religious service in full swing.

Searchers and Lost Ones, gurgling and reciting along to whatever "words of god" Sammy Lawrence was currently preaching, were sitting in makeshift booths.

Several alters set up for the Ink Demon were brimming with offerings of dolls, trinkets and cans of bacon soup. So many, many, cans of bacon soup. Brought in by the members in attendance.

Henry paused, completely taken by surprise by this... Arrangement. If anyone noticed his presence, no one seemed bothered about it. If anything, Sammy glanced once at him and merely continued his sermons, giving Henry ample time to accomplish his tasks in the music department.

As he collected the abandoned pressure valve (because Jack had apparently also gone to the "Sunday service"), Henry wondered if the mad maestro would just let him leave peacefully.

When no blow came from behind, he felt pretty satisfied with the outcome. Until he had to pass by the large gathering of ink people again, that is...

The sermons had apparently come to a close, and it was about the time church goers were to perform their theophagy ritual. Henry expected them to just eat the soup as their "body and blood of god", but of course why would any sane man think that these people who followed the ramblings of a mad Prophet, would do so much as dare a glance at an offering to their Lord?

No, Henry should have honestly known better, and he came to a complete stop as he watched the once-respectable composer push a cage full of live rats, and a bowl full of ink, into the center of the room.

"Feast now brothers and sisters, for one day this flesh will allow us to regain our own physical bodies. But let us not forget our Lord's blessings. May drinking his blood infuse us with the courage we need to commit to such ritualistic prayer."

Henry didn't stick around to watch the "feasting", but the shrill screeching of rats and wet crunching of bones followed him all the way to Buddy's safehouse, where the poor cartoon wolf looked just as disgusted and horrified as him. Fur standing on end just as Henry's own skin got goosebumps.

Thoroughly disturbed by what he'd witnessed, the old cartoonist knew to be on guard for whatever came next. While the Ink Demon seemed to just linger and let them pass, Alice Angel was still a supposed threat he needed to contend with. Joey didn't do much with her, as far as petty resentment towards Susie went, so he expected a struggle. He didn't expect a cabaret show.

There, in a room fixed up to look like a stage with Butcher Gang clones working as some sort of bar staff, stood the malicious lady herself, performing with a mask fashioned from an Alice Angel cutout's head.

The left side serving to hide her deformities, while she seductively swung her hips to the beat of a song that was certainly less cartoony and more sensual. A tango of some sort, or perhaps even jazz. Henry had a bit of a tin ear, so he couldn't really tell...

She was pretty content just singing and dancing, although her words were ones that put both he and Buddy on edge.

Sweet words that romanticized death and dismemberment, because nothing spelled angelic mercy like hearing about your innards getting torn out and used in ways he dare not speak of.

At least the whiskey was nice, likely pillaged from a couple of employees's offices.

Wherever Henry went, he found no real danger. This loop was just weird. Of course before moving onto Bendyhell to see what in God's name Joey might have done to subdue Bertrum, Alice did ask him to check up on Norman.

He'd at least hoped the Projectionist was behaving as intended... Except he wasn't. Of course he wasn't. Henry nearly backed off into the lift as soon as he realized the hulking beast was playing with the remains of its dead prey, and then nearly straight up pissed himself when that blazing light fell upon him and his lupine companion.

But then the large beast did something unexpected. It lumbered slowly towards them rather than rushing them, and then gently head-butted Henry's arm, purring like a big twisted cat of some kind.

Buddy shrugged at him when he looked over with a raised brow, before the old cartoonist sighed and gave the object-headed beast a few scratches on the "chin" and left it to its... Morbid activities. Playing with its mangled food like an actual cat...

Bendyhell in contrast, was quite pleasant. Abuzz with the cheers of Lost Ones having fun with the games and rides. Bertrum looked annoyed, but entertained his guests nonetheless. Henry Eve caught sight and waved at the dancing animatronic that ran about checking in on the Lost Ones that were having a blast. Hopefully none belonged to Sammy's church, lest poor Bertrum ended up dealing with upchucked rat remains... Best not think of that.

The encounter with Allison and Tom was postponed to the giant Ink Machine itself. They were in the Ink Demon's throne room, playing card games with it. The absolute look of boredom twisting its grin into a grimace.

"You know what, I don't even care enough to ask..." He threw up his hands in surrender and simply say down with them. "What are we playing?"

"Go fish. At the best of three, then you can end this nightmare..." Allison sighed.

"Amen to that..." He took the hand the Ink Demon shuffled for him, then joined in their game, allowing Buddy to sit down besides him to doodle away in his notebook.

If Joey was going to weird him out with his freaky jokes, at least Henry would get back at him by leaving him waiting in his stuffy old apartment.

[madamewriterofwrongs]

62 of the sensory prompts!

I hope you enjoy <3

Sensory Prompts

62. Fingertips smudged in blue ink

Bear my Signature

2008

His hands were steady as he bent over the recruitment table, sure in the path he was setting himself on. This was his decision, not his father’s. Shannon was proud of him; his parents were proud of him – he was proud of himself. Nothing could make him change his mind.

Then why did he hesitate over the final signature?

One last scrawl of his name and he would be a new Sixty-eight Whiskey recruit with the United States Armed Forces, with a career and a future serving his country and doing something of use – for once.

He couldn’t keep working for his father, long hours of travel, barked orders, and n real choice. Working with his hands was one thing, but this would be so much more.

He was going to make something of himself.

All he had to do was sign on the bottom line and his life would change forever. He thought of Shannon. They hadn’t been together long enough to know what time and distance would do to them, but he loved her; and she loved him. That would be enough.

He could do this.

He would do this.

He had to do this.

Eddie’s hands shook as his pen danced over his last key to freedom.

2010

He had been staring at the page for hours. It was a good program – it should be for the amount of money his parents were paying (he could hear his mother’s voice echoing in his ears). He wanted to be here. Sure, he wasn’t overly enthusiastic about his field of study but it would open up a lot of doors if he could be at least a B student.

He wouldn’t have to live at home any more, that was a definite plus. There was a great love he had for his parents when he didn’t have to see them every day.

Distance makes the heart grow fonder.

Or forgetful.

Either way, this college would be the perfect opportunity to go out on his own and make something of himself. So what, if it was only a few hours away from home and his parents were paying for everything? He was still an independent person of independent means; he would finally have something to contribute. He’d be doing something of use – for once.

So what, if he hated the program? So what, if he was still staring at that map of the known world he got on his seventh grade trip to the museum?

This would be how he would make his mark on the world; it was his only option.

Buck placed his signature on the final page and handed the pile of forms back to the registration office.

2010

Eddie had never felt so panicked in his entire life (apart from the time two months ago when he’d called his girlfriend in the middle of the night and asked her to marry him when he was in town on leave). That had been a different kind of panic.

The panic brought on from calling his parents the day before and telling them that Shannon was pregnant and he had no idea what to do. After a lot of cursing and a lot of lecturing, they told him that there was only one option available to him: marry the girl.

They never liked Shannon. They tolerated her – were polite to her whenever Eddie brought her around – but the sneer in his mother’s voice when she told him what an idiotic mistake he’d made, reminded him that this would be the only way his parents approved of him marrying his high school sweetheart.

He’d always thought he’d get around to marrying her eventually. Sure, they’d only dated for a few months in her last year of high school but that still counted as a teenage romance where he was from. It was romantic right?

And then she’d told him she was pregnant, and then he’d panicked and begged her to marry him.

And now they were walking down the aisle in front of their friends and family (who were available to fly out at a moment’s notice), saying their vows like they actually meant them.

To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, till death do us part.

Eddie smudged the ink of his signature as he marked the marriage certificate, a reminder of the familiar yet uncharted path his life was currently on.

2011

Eddie never believed in love at first sight, but holding that little boy in his arms changed everything. Christopher Ramon Diaz, born 4lbs, 9oz. The doctors assured them that he was a little small but perfectly healthy and safe. That was all he needed to hear.

He hadn’t stopped smiling since they brought Shannon and Christopher to their room so mom and the baby could rest.

Mom.

Shannon was a mother now. The mother of his child.

He was a father. How the hell was he going to be a dad when his own had kept him at a distance his entire life? Not that he blamed him – he was providing for his family – that’s what you do. That’s why he was serving out the rest of his tour and coming straight home to look for a job.

He hated that he wouldn’t get to spend more than a week with his wife (the mother of his child) and newborn son, but that was the deal he made:

Put food on the table, keep a roof over their heads, and you will be a family forever.

At least he was around long enough to sign his name on the dotted line, declaring this little boy his for anyone to see. Christopher looked so much like his mother, he prayed he wouldn’t stay away long enough to become a stranger in his eyes. He wanted every moment he could get.

Eddie was going to be a good father; he would fight for them, and when he came back, he would work a million jobs so he could keep their deal. So long as the two of them were happy, nothing else mattered.

2014

Buck was floating, restless, in a sea of uncertainty. To be specific, he was floating in Moloaʻa Bay, just north of Kauaʻi, watching a group of men performing professional grade dives further out. They worked in sync but came up splashing and laughing, hearty laughs of grown men (not boys who had no idea what they were doing with their lives).

He’d spoken to them the night before when they stumbled into the bar he’d found himself sitting at most nights, striking up a conversation about how they all ended up on this island paradise.

He vaguely remembered coming up with some story about following a girl here only to have her ditch him for another man. It sounded better than telling them, he’d shown up at the airport in Seattle and asked for the cheapest, earliest flight and somehow ended up here.

Their story had been much more interesting anyways. Naval SEALS, honorable and strong. They were attending a conference by day (who got to go to a conference in Kauaʻi?) but the nights were all for them.

Buck blushed, remembering how bright the youngest one, Jacob, had smiled at him over their fifth shot of rum – or was it their eighth? Either way, they’d woken up tangled in each other’s arms somewhere around 6am, when Jake kicked him out so he could get ready for his meeting.

Now, he watched them all, wondering what it must be like to have that kind of comradery, that kind of purpose – that kind of freedom.

That night at the bar, Buck found Jake again and followed him back to his hotel room so he could register for their mailing list of interested applicants (he didn’t ask to stay).

The next time he was in Coronado, he’d have a new career opportunity and – hopefully – a new life.

2015

Eddie hated his signature. On a good day, it was a series of loops strung together with an E and D sloppily thrown in.

On a bad day, it was the end of a long series of papers that meant he was being discharged from the army with honors. For being brave, he wouldn’t have to fight anymore.

He didn’t feel brave. He certainly didn’t feel like he was done fighting.

And yet here he was, standing in front of a General he’d never met, having to hide the tremor in his hand as he struggled to sign off on his emancipation from the only real thing he’d ever known.

He had a wife and a son back home who didn’t know him any more – it wasn’t a stretch to say he no longer knew himself. But they needed him. They needed his money and his leadership and he didn’t have much of either. He had no way of knowing what he was coming home to (and didn’t that just sting?). Having no idea what was going on with his own family because he was gone for too long. What good was he to them now that he was back, though? He still had months of recovery ahead of him, and a few scars that opened up into a chasm of nightmares every night. All he wanted to do was take a deep breath a scream.

But he couldn’t do that.

He could salute with his good hand, and thank the man for the box that said he was a hero, and go back to his family.

And keep trying to hold it together.

2016

So being a SEAL hadn’t been the dream he imagined it to be. He still gained some valuable skills when it came to search and rescue, and combat. He also learned about the type of job he didn’t want to have.

He wanted the life they had on the brochure:

Help save lives.

Do some good.

Be a daredevil.

So they hadn’t said those exact words but that was the implication. It was implied that he’d get to be a badass rulebreaker with a heart of gold.

He shuffled out of the facility with a few new bruises and a new respect for being a decent human being for once.

Whether by coincidence of providence, he found himself wandering around the streets of Los Angeles nearly every night after he arrived, searching for some sort of sign that this was the place to be at this moment in time. If it wasn’t, he could always move on to the next place. But there was something about LA that felt right. Hot sun, hot people, lots of mischief and adventure.

A boy could become a man here.

He was stopped on the street as the fire station in front of him roared to life, and he watched through the window as men and women worked in tandem to load their gear and peel away from the hangar. 30 seconds of excitement suddenly left the building feeling empty enough for Buck to hear his own heart pick up.

Before he knew what he was doing, he walked up to the main door and rang the bell. A man in a uniformed t-shirt and pants answered, and invited him inside to tell him all about the exciting life as a Los Angeles Firefighter.

For the second time in his life, Buck left his name and number with a strange man, hoping this single interaction would change his life.

2017

Eddie took a deep breath; not screaming, this time, but exhaling the last of his nerves. This felt right. This was his decision, not his father’s – in fact, his father had no qualms about showing his disapproval at his decision.

But it felt right.

Being a firefighter was a lot like combat (with an eighth of the on-the-job stressors). But he still got to help people – he could use his skills he’d learned in the army to save lives at home the way he hoped he was doing overseas. And he could come home to his son every night.

He would have come home to Shannon, too, if he could get her on the phone for more than a few minutes at a time.

He hadn’t spoken with her in over a year, now. She’d stopped answering so he’d stopped calling and only part of his heart was broken for knowing that she’d run away, too.

Even if it was just him and Christopher for a little while, it would be still be a blessing to go save the world and be back in time for dinner (usually).

He was so tired lately. Working three jobs left him no energy to be with his son and even less desire to argue with his parents over how to best raise him.

Christopher needed stability, so he’d give it to him. He’d become a firefighter for whoever would take this mess of a human being, and build the life for his son that he deserved – a happy one.

Even if he wondered twelve times a day if a happy life was really a life with him. Maybe Christopher would be better off with his parents. He barely knew the little boy sleeping in his own bed and not a crib.

Isn’t that all the more reason to stay?

Before Eddie could second guess himself, he signed his name on the dotted line, and joined the row of recruits for the fire academy training.

2017

As far as first dates went, this one was strangely not the worst. That had involved jumping out the second story window of an apartment complex because her “technically still my boyfriend” was coming through the front door.

He’d twisted his ankle when his leg got caught on the fire escape and the police were called – though, thankfully, no charges were laid. Incredibly painful, and incredibly embarrassing.

Waking up in the hospital after his girlfriend had performed an emergency tracheotomy, was a very close second.

Unlike that awful first date, though. Abby was still at his side when he woke up. He hadn’t realized how long it had been since he’d had someone to wake up next to – even if it was groggily coming off anesthesia after surgery.

It was nice.

She was nice.

God, he liked her so much. Why couldn’t the universe let him have one good date? He hadn’t had that many to begin with, was it so much to ask that things go right?

Abby was nice and smart and beautiful and liked him.

And she stayed.

She was at work when he signed himself out of the hospital but Bobby had been there, too, to drive him home since his car was still at the restaurant. They even went out for breakfast. That was new as well. Someone who willingly spent time with him and offered him advice and cared whether Buck took that advice.

He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t a little addictive:

Having people in his life who stayed.

2018

Carla had to slap his hand during their tour of the school every time he tried to play with the lanyard around his neck. He managed to stop fidgeting after the first fifteen minutes, but the nerves never faded.

This was a huge risk. It was still early in the school year, but Christopher had just moved to LA. He had no friends, no social circle, no one outside of his family; and now Eddie wanted to move him to a highly specialized school.

What, just because it had small class sizes, and teachers who seemed to understand his son’s needs, and had incredible security measures, and was an opportunity for Christopher to get a better education than he had back in Texas, and it felt like a miracle that Carla convinced the school to see him on such short notice?

It was still an incredibly expensive miracle.

And there was the problem of getting a hold of Shannon. He’d told their lawyer when he was taking Christopher out of the state, and thankfully, her number hadn’t changed, but getting her to pick up the phone when he called his estranged wife had been an exercise in anxiety control.

If it meant that Christopher got the best care, nothing else mattered.

Even as his thought swam with a thousand unanswered questions (the loudest one being: what did that kiss in the parking lot mean for us?), Eddie’s hand was sure and still as he signed the registration form.

2019

Maddie was back in his life. He’d almost lost Maddie a few months after getting her back, but now that wouldn’t be a problem anymore. She was safe, and she was home with him; he had his big sister once again and that was all he needed.

It didn’t stop the nightmares from bolting him awake, reminding him that he could die tomorrow and then she’d be left alone. Or she could leave again and then he’d be alone.

He didn’t want that: he didn’t want to be alone again. He liked the people in his life. Maddie, Bobby, the 118, Eddie, Christopher; they were people he wanted to keep safe.

But the dangers he needed to protect them from weren’t always solved with a giant water hose or an axe. For everything else, he called a lawyer and got some advice.

Maddie had been very understanding when he told her about the will he planned to change so she’d receive a larger piece of his assets. She was his sister, he was always going to leave something to her, but now that she was back, he wanted to know that she’d be happy here without him in this place he’d convinced her to settle.

Eddie had been less understanding; grateful, yes, but speechless as to why Buck would want to leave his colleague so much (it was mostly for Christopher, he explained, so that he’d could have something for his future if he lost his best buddy). That had still led to a lot of protesting – eventually broken up by a confused by thankful Shannon – but nothing was compared to Bobby.

Bobby who teared up when Buck explained that he didn’t have a lot of things in this world, but if anything happened to him, he wanted Bobby to have something to remember him by.

That hadn’t been a lie, but maybe not a whole truth.

He wanted to know that the people he loved most were never left alone even after he left them.

Was that so much to ask for?

2019

Eddie hated funerals. He didn’t know a single person who enjoyed them; but he’d been to far too many in his short life to find any comfort in them.

They were burying his wife today.

She didn’t want to be his wife anymore but he hadn’t told anyone that. The shame that burned his throat when he thought of revealing that painful truth, was too sharp. He suffered in silence as he always had. It wasn’t just his own feelings he had to worry about; there was Christopher.

There was always Christopher – there would always be Christopher – he would never stop caring for his son as long as he lived (and probably long after as well). Because that’s what parents were supposed to do.

He found himself standing, poised with pen in hand over another piece of paper, frozen once again by his own indecision and fear.

What was he supposed to write in the book of her life? How was he meant to say goodbye to the only woman he’d ever loved? How could he close this chapter of his life with a flick of ink?

He couldn’t.

His eyes hooked onto his son’s back, sitting quietly beside his great grandmother, swinging his legs under the pews because he still wasn’t tall enough to touch the ground. He was so small; so young.

Christopher needed him to be strong; needed him to put it away so they could take care of each other.

Eddie signed the front page, and opened the book for the guests to sign.

2019

When Buck woke up in the hospital this time, he saw an angel, and for a moment he was terrified; but then everything was at peace.

The moments after he felt peace, however, were agonizing and terrifying. The moments before hadn’t been a picnic either, but at least his memories of laying underneath a ladder truck and being pulled to safety were still a little hazy. He remembered a warm hand in his and a few words of encouragement and a lot of screaming, but not much else.

Now that he was awake, fear was quickly becoming his only focus. The fear of not knowing whether the surgery had been successful – not knowing if he’d ever work again or if he’d have to start his life over. The fear of whether he would be the same man if he ever could go back to work. So much was uncertain, that he clung to the tiniest bit of hope: Ali, Maddie, and Carla. The women who would stay by his side no matter what.

It took him four days before he had the strength to walk to the end of the hall, and finally, the doctor was satisfied that the was safe to go home. He had never been happier being wheeled out to his sister’s car, than the day he got to sign himself out of the hospital, knowing that everything would be back to normal.

2019

Buck was man enough to admit that this punishment was nothing compared to what it could be. Three hours in the human resources office with Bobby, Chief Alonso and Alex, head of HR, signing his name to a million forms, could have been a lot worse.

Sure, his hand cramped about half an hour in, but it was worth it all if it meant he could finally go back to work.

It all seemed a little silly – not that he’d ever say that out loud. Buck had no intention of suing the city or the department (or Bobby) again. He’d meant what he said, though: he was a fighter. He’d fight for his job and his family however he could.

Sometimes he fought in really stupid ways that he didn’t realize were harmful until it was too late. But then he’d just have to fight to make up for those mistakes.

Buck was a fighter, plain and simple.

Tonight, he’d fight through hand cramps and eye fatigue. Tomorrow he’d fight for his friends’ trust.

And pray it was enough for them to let him come home.

2022

There was one recorded day of history in which Eddie Diaz felt happier than he did today: the day his son was born.

Nothing else compared to that day, vowing his fealty to Christopher and whatever he needed.

Today was a pretty good day, though.

He was dressed a lot nicer, that was for certain – not that he didn’t love the sea green scrubs, but a fitted suit was much more comfortable.  

The company was also pretty good.

Christopher stood beside him in the mirror, adjusting his tie for the tenth time (even though Abuela told him to stop playing with it). He understood that the boy was nervous so he only smiled down at him and his slightly crooked tie.

There was a knock at the door and Eddie hurried to answer it, knowing exactly who would be on the other side.

Buck hadn’t stopped smiling since he arrived at the rental hall, taking all of Maddie’s teasing as she helped him dress for his big day. Nothing could dampen his mood; not the caterers calling in with last minute substitutions, not baby Gloria throwing up on Chimney all night, not a small tear in his suit jacket that neither of them could fix.

None of it mattered as he knocked on the door of the side room they’d set up.

Technically, he wasn’t supposed to see the groom before the wedding – but technically they weren’t supposed to sleep together the night before either, so one more break in tradition wouldn’t be the end of the world. Since the day they moved in together, Buck had never willingly spent a night away from their bed. Even on the nights when they were irreconcilably fighting, they’d sleep on opposite sides of the bed.

He was not about to sleep without his fiancé on the last night he got to call him his fiancé.

Eddie and Buck walked down the hallway to greet the officiant, Maddie waiting for them with two pens in hand.

This was it; the last step before they officially tied the knot. Everything after this was just icing on the cake (which reminded Buck, he needed to tell Eddie about the catering mishap after everything was sorted because he was more likely to panic). This was the moment where they would sign their names and be legally bound in the eyes of the world, as two people who wanted to spent their lives together.

Eddie was careful with his penmanship. His hands didn’t shake much – absolutely confident in this choice – but he wanted it to be perfect. This would be the last time he would sign his name on a piece of paper like this (and he wouldn’t sign his name on a book for others to impart their memories of his dearly departed for a very long time); so he savored every little detail as he lent his name to another cause he believed in wholeheartedly.

Buck laughed when he messed up the B in “Buckley” after spending hours for weeks on end, practicing his “Diaz”s. It turned into a strange series of vertical loops that someone could use in context to describe as a B, so he wasn’t too worried. In fact, he had no worries at all. Now, he had a happy memory attached to signing away his life to a man he hoped to know better with every passing day.

[spookyold-saintjm]

Pieces of You

Mayor Damien x reader

| Part Two | | Part Three |

Warnings: mild language and sexual themes/implied smut (gender neutral)

Word Count: 1,810

Series Summary: Damien is your world, and you are his light. One night, just shy of the long-awaited evening on which he’s planned to ask for your hand in marriage, he goes out for a poker night reunion with old friends at the Markiplier manor. He doesn’t come back.

a/n: I am SO incredibly excited to finally get started on this! It’s an idea I’ve had since long before I started writing again, and it’s about time I put it down into words. Thanks to everyone who encouraged me to post this! The first chapter is soft but we all know where it goes from here...

Damien is so very near and dear to my heart so please let me know your thoughts! Hope you enjoy reading. x

“When someone dies, you can mourn. It’s so much harder when someone just disappears.” 

—

Damien kept the ring in his office.

Not because he thought you were nosy and went through his things, but because he was worried he would get so caught up in a moment with you that he would end up giving it to you before the night he’d been so meticulously planning for weeks on weeks.

Damien had known he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you for some time. He was the sort that had friends in every circle, got invited to all the parties in college (and attended most of them), and as he somewhat accidentally stumbled into a political career, became a prominent guest or host of more events than he could ever count. 

Early on in this whirlwind his life had turned into over the last several years, he had met you. At one of said college parties, actually. Your meeting may or may not have been orchestrated by a certain aspiring actor that you both had befriended in separate undergrad courses, who had decided on his own accord that you were a clear match.

He was right, of course, but it took some time for Damien to prove himself to you. He was foolishly head-over-heels for you, but you were far more focused on your career path, and perhaps eventually a serious relationship, than you were with a boy who didn’t seem interested in anything more than blowing through his courses and finding his next opportunity for a wild night with his friends. 

His kind eyes, witty sense of humor, and devilishly charming smile be damned.

When you finally resigned to the first date, and teasingly confessed to him that weekend at a bar across from campus that you’d consider a second date if he made a deal with you to take his studies more seriously…well, he didn’t fuck around. Why would he? He was enamored with you, had decided from day one that he’d give you the world and then some if you asked for it. 

Damien was determined to prove himself to you. So a second date turned into a third, a fourth, and countless more. The brilliant man that you knew had been hiding under all of the fun and games came to light. Not that he lost that side of himself; no chance in hell. When the two of you weren’t side-by-side in the library working on your respective projects or gathered around a table with colleagues energetically discussing the latest elections and policies, he was taking you out for late nights of dancing to your favorite music under the stars or sneaking you into his apartment to watch movies and cram in a make-out session before his roommates came home. You'd caved. You’d caved hard.

You came to realize Damien was all you could have asked for and more, and he would have easily said the same of you. You stuck together through the years of school left ahead of you and beyond, which eventually led to your position as a chief assistant in the District Attorney’s Office, and Damien’s skyrocket to the role of Mayor in the building right across the street. 

Which was where you were headed that particular afternoon after saying goodbye to your coworkers for the day. After closing a particular case that the office had been plagued with for the last few weeks, the DA sent everyone in the office home for an evening to finally get some much-needed rest.

You cheerfully exchanged greetings with those you knew lingering in the lobby and the front desk and immediately let into the hallway that led to Damien’s office. As you approached, you could hear an exchange of two deep voices, but they immediately clipped to complete silence when you lightly knocked three times on Damien’s office door.

There was a sound of brief shuffling, quickly followed by Damien’s call to come in. You slowly opened the door, smiling at the two men standing behind the desk in the far side of the room.

“Detective! Nice to see you.” You greeted Abe first, stepping further into the room. The detective met you halfway, shaking your hand and nodding politely back at you.

“You too, y/n,” His smile a little too enthusiastic. He jerked this thumb behind him, and you briefly flicked your eyes toward Damien hastily shuffling pens and papers around in his desk drawer before detective spoke again. “Our lovely Mayor here was just telling me about his latest project—”

Damien had made his way around the desk by then, and swiftly clapped his hand atop Abe’s shoulder as he came up behind him.

“Yes, Detective! And I’m happy to discuss more later, if you’d like.”  You didn’t miss the emphasis layering a couple of their words, but you didn’t pay it much mind; Damien was always up to some sort of troublemaking within the office, good-natured of course, but nevertheless enough to make at least a couple members of the staff want to pull their hair out at any given time. His defense was, naturally, that he didn’t want anyone to get bored. Knowing him, there was no danger of that any time soon.

You rolled your eyes as your grin widened once Damien stepped around Abe, his hand sliding off the detective's shoulder and dropping to your waist to pull you in for a quick peck on the lips.

“Darling, do you mind swinging by my mailbox before we head home? There’s a couple things I need to finish up here, and I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

You lightly patted his cheek. “Of course, love. I’ll see you in a bit.”

You turned to leave after exchanging departing words with the detective, not missing the sound of Abe’s amused muttering and Damien’s shushing response as the door clicked shut behind you.

Boys, you sighed.

—

Damien’s stuttered sigh was heavy in your ear just before he pulled himself away from you. He fell onto his back at your side, and you were quick to collapse beside him shortly after, your head resting atop his bare, sweat-slicked chest. 

There were no words, at least not for a while; only the mingling of your panting breaths and Damein’s gentle kisses to your forehead, your cheek, and finally your lips as you propped yourself up with your forearm so that you could see him face-to-face.

“Shower?” he asked softly, but even in the dim light of your shared bedroom you could see the devilish glint in his eyes as he stared up at you. 

Your sigh was dripping with sarcastic amusement as you ducked your head down into the crook of his neck. “You’re ridiculous.” 

You laid your palm flat on his chest, fingers splaying outward, lingering on the feel of his skin beneath your hand. Damien’s own hand reached to fall atop yours, the weight a reminder that he was yours, only yours. He gave your hand a slight affectionate squeeze as the fingers of his other hand found themselves weaving in and out of your disheveled hair.

“Can you blame me? You’ve been up all night every night for the last two weeks working on that case.” He brought your hand to his lips to feather light kisses onto your knuckles. “I’ve missed you.”

You couldn’t help but smile, the soft warmth of the love between you radiating through the room and wrapping around you much like the now-tangled mess of sheets on the bed. 

“I’ve missed you too, Dames.” 

He let out a breathy laugh at the nickname that you’d given him years ago. A name reserved for only your use; anyone in the office caught teasingly using it, to his face or otherwise, was in for a death stare and a few choice words from the Mayor himself.

You laid in a contented silence for a while longer, limbs again intertwining as you embraced him and the opportunity to simply be together in a rare, quiet moment in the midst of your ever-increasing list of cases and the upcoming elections. You let the sound of his now-steadied breathing, the feeling of his chest rise and fall beneath your head, take the place of the million other things that ran through your brain on a constant loop; at the end of the day, Damien was your constant, your anchor. You couldn’t imagine life without him.

You were much more reserved and hesitant with your words than Damien, however; he would say the same things back to you and more every moment of every day if he could.

Which, now that you thought about it, made it odd that he was suddenly silent.

“You’re quiet tonight,” you softly stated, your eyes slowly opening again.

Damien’s had never closed. He was lost deep in his thoughts, in the spiral that had overtaken him so often lately: about the ring hidden away in his desk drawer back at his office, the private dinner that he’d made reservations for months ago at the most sought-after restaurant in the city, the outfit he’d bought for you to wear that night that you’d been eyeing for some time but couldn’t justify buying, now tucked away deep in his side of the closet where you’d never even think to look.

Mostly he thought about the moment when he would ask you to be a part of his life forever. When he would ask you to stick with him through the rest of his career and his life beyond, to wake up every morning by his side, to raise a house full of bright-eyed and brilliant children together, to grow old with him…

He knew you would say yes...or, at least, hoped. Abe was quick to shut down his doubts earlier that afternoon when he’d let him in on his plans to propose to you. But regardless, he couldn’t keep his stomach from turning at the thought. He’d never been more terrified, but ready for, anything in his life. And the day was drawing close.

Damien’s fingers trailed along your arm as he eventually answered you. “Just thinking about that shower we could be taking right now.”

He was quick to then grasp your arms and flip you over, forcing you to let out a high-pitched yelp followed by giggling as his body then hovered over yours. He chuckled back at you as you teasingly smacked him on the shoulder, but the both of you fell silent again as your lips met for a slow, lazy kiss.

When your lips eventually parted, the fluttering in your chest had picked up again and Damien’s grasp had drifted from your arms down to your hips. Your eyes met only for a brief second before you were both on your feet, nearly knocking over every piece of furniture in your path as you made your way to the shower.

| Part Two |

—

tag list: @aheistwithyaboi​ @dapper-comedy​ @pandacookieowo​ @jennabonenna​ @nightfuryobsessed​ @a-okay-rj​ (If I tagged you, you probably expressed interest in this when I posted about it a while ago...but I don’t wanna bother you in the future if it’s not necessary so please let me know if you’d like to be added to the permanent list!)

gif source: @darkipliers

quote source: @elfinprompts

[stevenuniversetanzanite]

Ally x Cordelia X Reader (Part 3)

So I haven't written this in a while but I'm excited. I didn't reread it in full so I hope it makes sense. Also, I think this is longer than the other two parts.

Summary: The three of you have had your fair share of troubles but what will happen when all your pasts’ come to for the foreground.

Warning: N/A

Parts: One, Two, Three, Four (will be added when posted)

I can see the headlines now, “Senator Allyson Mayfair killed Ex-Wife.”

Ally stared at the local online newspaper report about her accusing her of murdering her Ex-wife, listing some recent evidence that had surfaced supporting the case. She couldn’t take the threats as just that anymore. This person is ruining her reputation in the public's eye. It wasn’t long until now that these accusations will need to be addressed and if they find out the truth, that they were true.

Without a moment's hesitation, she picked up her cell phone and dialled up your phone, knowing you would do her odd request without thinking twice. She needed you to pick up Oz from school that instant, to ensure that he doesn’t accidentally hear the claims. She wished for you to keep her offline until she got home. He was allowed to do whatever he wanted as long as the both of you stayed in the house and kept off the internet. This resulted in the two of you playing on your old Nintendo Wii that you wired up onto your office monitor.

Little did the two know that the girlfriend in charge of the school had received dozens of phone calls about the news reports, parents questioning if their children were safe and benefactors questioning if their money would be better spent elsewhere. Cordelia assured them that all matters will be dealt with and assured them that the students were safe at the school as they have always been.

Cordelia came down to inform you of what’s been happening when she spotted Oz with you. What she was going to say, now put on pause until the boy was out of earshot.

“What game are you two playing?” Cordelia asked as if it wasn’t obvious that they were playing Mario kart. Oz answered the question, momentary taking his attention off the game allowing you to get past his cart and gain first place. Oz huffed, claiming that it wasn’t far, but you laughed and said he was making up excuses.

“Y/N, can I speak to you for a moment?”

“Sure thing De. Oz you pick the next game,” You said tossing your controller onto your cushioned desk chair. The boy perched on the edge of the medical cot jumped off the bed and shuffled through the box of games you’d brought down from the attic. “Take your time, I’ll be back in a second.” He acknowledged what you said before continuing to search for the best two player game he could bet you at.

Your girlfriend escorted you out of the room, shutting the door behind the both of you.

“What’s up?”

“Oz is home early,” Cordelia stated.

“What? Did he ruin your idea of a mid-day make out session?” You kidded. You caught that Cordelia didn’t play back. Your first response was, “Ally asked me to pick him up-”

“I came to inform you that I’ve been receiving phone calls all day from worried parents-”

“And?”

“A news article has come out accusing Ally of killing her ex.”

“Did she?” Cordelia remained quiet. All that the blonde had been told was that the woman (Ally’s ex) was out of the both of their lives. “I mean if she did it wouldn’t change much-”

“How's that?”

“All the school's staff have either killed or sent someone to their death. Zoe’s killed; Queenie’s killed. Some of our students find out that their witches after someone gets in the crossfire. We’re all as bad if not worse. Ally seems like the type to have a reason and I’d like to hear it- again, assuming the accusations correct.”

Cordelia couldn’t argue with that, you were right. The possibility of Ally killing someone did throw Cordelia for a loop, she’d never expected something like that from the woman and she would have liked to have known for in case something like this accord. There wasn’t much they could do now except wait for Ally to come home and explain everything.

“I’ll make sure no one brings it up in the school and organise a time for us all to sit down and talk about it.”

“Maybe after Oz has gone to bed.” Cordelia hummed at the idea, her mind flicking through a list of ideas to sort this out. “I don’t want to be a worrywart but what if they want to investigate and take Oz away from her-”

“Then he can stay with us.” Ally didn’t have any external family besides Oz and school. Her marriage didn’t go down well with either Allyson’s or Ivy’s parents causing them to cut ties completely. “However, Ally might have to go away for a bit. If it gets serious, she won’t be able to be around the school without causing drama.” You hated to imagine a world where you couldn’t be with the two people you love. But sacrifices had to be made.

“Let's hope it doesn't come down to that.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “I have to go back inside.”

“I’ll let you go.” Cordelia pulled you in for a quick peck, but you wanted more. You pulled her into a long kiss.

You both missed the door open. “Eww~” Oz whined. The two of you pulled apart, the both of you chuckling. “Gross.”

“Well now that we’re done scarring the kid, wanna join us?”

“I can’t, I have to deal with work stuff,” Cordelia cleared her throat trying to hint at what she was talking about without saying it in front of the boy.

“Alright, I’ll see you later,” you said. You mouthed to her, “Everything will be alright.”

She mouthed back, “I know.”

At the end of the day, the safety of the coven was her number one concern, if her love life got in the way of the safety of her girls then she’d have to let go of love. Ally wasn’t a witch, not that she wasn’t any less a member of the school, no one thought twice about her presence, some of the students assumed that she too was a witch just didn’t perform magic in front of them for whatever reason. It would devastate all if she’d get torn away from the others and you knew for a fact that some of the girls would do anything to get her back, if not for themselves than their headmistress and you.

Time flew by as the two of you played Super smash bros, you never noticed it was almost dinner time until one of the students came to fetch you. You and Oz spoke about his friend James and all the games he owned.

“Can we get one?” Oz said after talking about all the games he played at his friend’s house on the newest Nintendo console.

“A Nintendo Switch?” Oz nodded. “I don’t know how your mum will feel about that.” He looked up at you with puppy dog eyes. “I suppose, if we say it’s mine, she can’t stop me from buying it.” He cheered and thanked you. You chuckled at his reaction and said, “Don’t get too excited, I haven’t bought it yet.”

The knocking on the office door snapped you out of your gaming groove. The door opened revealing said student who came to get you for dinner. Before you could ask her if she were alright, she told you the meal would be served in five and you’d be dining alone tonight. You rose your brow but remained silent. What was Cordelia up to?

After packing up the game, the two of you headed to the dining room where you met said student from before. She had to be the most inexpressive person you’d ever met. She informed you that your meal would be served in the kitchen on the circular table. Oz looked at her confused, him too wondering why you were eating elsewhere from the other stuff and students. Oz complained, wanting to talk to you some more but you told him that you can chat after. You truthfully didn’t know if you would, confused on why you were being isolated from the rest. You didn’t mind the silence at first, it was peaceful until the noise from the dining room picked up. Then you felt like you were missing out on something. You were halfway through your plate when someone sat down. You were two focused on the plate and your own thoughts that you didn’t bother to look up at who it was.

“I thought I was dining alone,” you said picking up a piece of salad. You looked up to find Ally sitting in front of you. “I thought you were going to be Cordelia.”

“I haven’t spoken to her yet. How dead am I?”

“Not as dead as your wife.”

“Y/n-"

“She wants to talk about it later,” you paused. “Did you?”

“Would it change the way you see me?” That’s a yes then.

“No.”

“Yes. I promise I had no ill intent-” You scoffed at the ‘ill intent’. “I was protecting my family.” You stopped immediately. Family?

“How so? By killing one of your own? Did she try and hurt Oz or something?”

“Indirectly, but yes. It’s best if I wait until Cordelia’s here.”

“Will be she be dinning us too?”

“I thought she would be dinning already.”

“She’s probably caught up with work. You’ve been quite the buzz as of late, everyone wants to give their two sense about you.”

“People really care that much?”

“Your rumour is bad for 'business', as it were. Founders and parents are calling up complaining. It probably won’t stop until we come up with a solution to save your reputation.”

“We?”

“You’re one of us now. As long as you associate with us, you’re protected under this coven.” Your words comfort Ally. She knows that you didn’t just mean her but her son as well.

“Thank you for picking up Oz, again. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Your welcome.” You sat in silence for a few tossing and turning over something you wanted to repeat Ally. “I wanted to repeat something I said to Cordelia earlier, all staff here have been partially involved in someone’s death. It’s not uncommon for death to happen in our coven and as long as you follow our one rule, you’re fine with us.” You didn’t say murder in case someone was eavesdropping. [The one rule, don’t (purposely) kill a witch or warlock in the coven.]

“Have you?” She knew Cordelia had, she told her that she was forced to burn Myrtle. A woman that all the staff members were fond of, but Cordelia wasn’t allowed to bring back due to being requested not to.

“Hmm?”

“Killed anyone?”

You glanced down at your plate. You spoke in the quietest voice, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Ally left it alone. It surprised her even more than it did with Cordelia to learn that you killed someone. You were a doctor, your amendment to help people, you’ve dedicated your life to helping the sick. You had a gift and you used it for the greater good. A part of her hoped it was just a mistake while operating, you had been a surgeon for a while or at least so she had heard. You’d bounced around positions in the hospital so many times, she can’t remember what you did and for how long. If an accident caused you this much grief, then she wished you shot someone.

The two’s silence was interrupted by the clinking of high heels on the floor.

“Delia?” Ally guessed. She’d be the only one not eating now so you gave a weak nod. A few seconds later you spotted the woman at the archway. She got a sense for the room, noticing your uncomfortableness immediately. She put it down to the other woman who had spun around on the Supreme’s arrival. “Cordelia.”

“Allyson.” Ally cursed under her breath.

“Y/n.” You turned your attention to your girlfriend. You hummed. “What are you doing out eating out here?”

“Didn’t you want me to-” You noticed the confused expression on the blonde’s face. Maybe Ally wanted you to sit out here so she could talk to without her son around and before Cordelia got to her.

“After you're both done dinner, I want you in my office,” She announced.

“What about you? Are you going to have dinner?”

“I’ll have it later.” She was gone a second later.

“Well I better tell Oz I want be playing video games with him tonight.”

You left your dinner and left to speak to Ally’s son.

In Cordelia’s office, Ally told you both the events leading up to the murder of her ex-wife Ivy. At the time of the 2016 presidential election, Ally’s phobias resurfaced. However, Ally avoids taking her medication and suffers a series of hallucinations in the form of a group of clowns intending to kill her. When the hallucinations happen again at The Butchery on Main, Ivy realizes that Ally is not taking her medication and forces her to take them. She goes on about their replacement babysitter, a woman named Winter Anderson and the murder of Ally and her Ex’s friends Tom and Marilyn Chang. She went on about clown attacks and how she accidentally shot Pedro, a Mexican staff member at her work. This was seen as a racially motivated homicide throughout her suburb in Michigan. She managed to clear her name. She found out her wife was in the cult terrorising the town (which Ally joined). Ally tells them how she poisons Ivy with arsenic in order to have Oz all to herself. She talked up until she and Oz moved to New Orleans, she got job as Senator and met Cordelia and later you.

Cordelia took a second to take in the story she had heard, trying to imagine pain and stress Ally went through to keep Oz safe. She did not know what she would do if she was in her boat. Cordelia was content with the story. “We need to figure out who brought this back to the surface.”

“I don’t have any enemies that would know about any of that, all the ex-cult members are dead.”

“Yet someone is after you,” you said.

“Whoever they are, they are sending me letters in parts”

“The letter you got the other day, was that one of them?” Ally nodded. “Do you still have them?”

“Destroyed them.”

“Nothing Is destroyed when you live with a group of witches.”

“The first would be at the garage tip by now.”

“Do you remember what they said?” You said. Ally nodded. You fetched a notepad and pen, “Good, write them down. And Ally, next time you get one show us, we might be able to use it to track the person down.” Ally silently agreed.

It didn’t take long for the next one to show up. It was only the next day. Ally didn’t bother going into work.

Your job would be over and your girlfriends’ couldn’t keep you around the school could they? A murder would wreck the school’s reputation.

The three stood around the opened letter. Ally in the desk chair and the other two peering over her shoulders.

"They know about you," Ally said to you. You were lost in my head, trying to figure out who would know. To the best of your knowledge, only the schoolgirls knew even how much Oz knew was questionable. As far as you were aware you were just an extremely close friend of his mother's.

"Impossible," Cordelia said. They had all made sure no one knew- mainly due to the short time you'd been going out and due to your age difference. Also, the fact that you had been a student here and people might make horrible and untrue comments about your girlfriend. And not to being on how the public would think if the polyamorous relationship.

"Have you told any-"

"No! No one knows except our girls. You don't think-"

"Couldn't be," Cordelia said.

"Should we track it?" You asked Cordelia.

"We should think through it carefully first," Ally added her two cents. "We don't know who we are dealing with or if it's a trap and the world knows that this is a witch school so they may have taken extra precautions."

"Y/n,"

"Hmm~"

"Set aside materials for a tracking spell."

You gathered all the materials you needed, including the letter they handed over to you after they had photocopied it for evidence. They trusted you to put it aside somewhere safe, unbeknownst to them, you had different plans. You’d performed the spell yourself and 7 hours later you found yourself in Atlanta, Georgia, standing outside the Delphi Trust building.

You had learned about this corporation a long time ago, only learning of the dirty truth behind it in the last 18 months. The Delphi Trust was an asset management company that served as a front for an ancient order of witch hunters that were known for using blessed silver bullets to kill witches. As far as you're aware, the company no longer was associated with witch hunting after the previous owners were murdered in the middle of a meeting. But with all sources pointing to the letter’s origins coming from here, what you thought was wrong.

You should have turned back or notified Cordelia your findings but you already snuck out and you knew she would only scold you and tell you to wait until you had back up. Your phone was bound to have 100 missed calls and messages. She’d probably be begging one of the tech savvy students to help her track down your phone's GPS signal.

Adjusting your bandana to ensure it covered the lowered part of your face, you teleported past the front doors. You flinched expecting motion sensors to go off, but nothing sounded, almost as if they anticipated your arrival.

You scoured the building for anything interesting. No one was on the premise which raised more alarms in your head. It was overly a trap and you knew it was possible passing one of these corners could send a silver bullet straight through you. Killing you would be easy; they could explain it as trespassing and it would be as good as done. They wouldn’t mess with Ally and the coven if they wanted to shoot you. Maybe they wouldn’t shoot you because you aren’t Ally, who the threat was targeted for, they could be expecting her. That wouldn’t explain the security system.

You reached a room lined with office desks and seating. All desks had personal items assigned to whoever’s desk it was, photos of people and their families, to go cups left on the occasional desk and the level of organization shifted from table to table.

One desk stood out, rested on the table was a brown archive box with the lid removed. It was the type of box that people pack their belongings in when they get fired in tv shows. It strikes you as odd, so you crept closer to survey its contents.

Inside was a knitted baby blanket. You cocked your brow, removing the blanket from the box. You played with the fabric in your hands as you unfolded it. It was as if it had been drowned in fabric softener for years. As you moved the fabric about, you noticed the name Odelia embroidered in ribbon on it. You traced the lettering with your finger before casting your eyeline down to the box.

Underneath were the blanket once was, a wedding band and a note sat. You slipped the ring into your pocket before choosing to read the note. Happy anniversary. “Shit!” You swore as you dropped the card, glancing around to see if anyone was around. You searched the person's desk finding no personal items. “Fucking god.” You slammed your hands into the desk, eyeing the box once more. Whoever planned this, expected you’d be the one to come. Whoever did this knew more about you than you’d like. Worse part of all of this, you didn’t find out who was troubling Ally. All you knew is she wasn’t the main target, or at least only.

You grabbed the blanket and dashed out of the building, missing the message on the other side of the note. See you soon x.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 128

128

Lance had snapped. Being tired and hungry did that to a man. He’d hit the point of exhaustion where he’d gone over and lost the plot... Lotor held him down as Ezor stuck her arm in his mouth. Her blood tasted gross, forced down his throat until he had the strength to get free... Then had kind of lost it over everything. He’d tried to rip the door off its hinges, hands burnt because of it. His temper tantrum stopped by Lotor, but the damage was done and he was moved from the others. With his ego beyond his ability to rein it back in, it’d taken five vampires to hurl him away from his friends, earning him a black eye and a broken nose... yet a nicer room, despite the fact he promised to behave himself if they just put him back with the others. He hadn’t even seen Curtis as friend once the blood started flowing into his mouth. Everyone had just been a source of food, with his ego being okay with that.

Dragged through what Lance now knew to be a house and not some kind of warehouse, he chained to a bed by his feet and his wrists, a collar around his neck with chain linking to the chain between his wrists. The bars of the bed groaning with his strength, yet refused to yield under his force. Hit by the full realisation of what he’d done, he’d curled up the best he could around his chains, crying himself to sleep over how violent he’d been.

He’d been in the bedroom for a few days now. Away from the others they brought him food. Human food that did nothing for his blood cravings, and blood capsules that he’d forced himself to swallow down so his body was at least getting some form of blood. The other vampires seemed wary of him now. Despite being able to take him in his weakened state, they came in a group of five. Two would guard the door, one would throw his food on the bed, one was armed with a cattle prod and another with what Lance could only call a dog catching pole. The steel comprising the loop was no joke. It’d been wrapped with razor wire that he was sure would decapitate him if they felt he was misbehaving.

Next to the bed was a bucket, Lance barely had enough chain to roll over to use it, resulting in him messing up his clothes and the bed, not that his captors cared. He was permitted one 5 minute bathroom break a day, where the was observed for the whole thing and Mr Cattle-Prod would stand right up near him with the device hovering near his back. He’d make the mistake of moving too fast to grab toilet paper and had been dropped by the device so fast he’d smacked his head on the toilet. Still, Lance hoped for all his mistreatment that they hadn’t laid a hand on Curtis. Zethrid, Acxa, and Ezor all fell under Lotor’s protection. Curtis had no one now. He bitterly cursed his outburst and attempt to escape when they’d come to subdue him. Had he kept his head level, he wouldn’t have been taken from his friend.

This waiting thing sucked. All sorts of thoughts coming to mind. Their captors were careful. He hadn’t caught a whiff of Sendak’s scent, nor was his name mentioned. Nothing important was mentioned at all... so all he had time for was his own thoughts. Like if he’d ever see Keith again, or if he was destined to die... or if Lotor had been lying and in on it all, with this whole thing being a charade or an attempt to extract information from him. He didn’t know how to feel. He really missed Keith, but he missed his Mami in a whole other way. Coran would be taking care of her, yet Coran had nothing to say that could reassure her. Lotor had left VOLTRON instead of doing all he could to help there, where his help would have been more appreciated and they could have all been out of here by now. Sleeping was the only time he could relax... forced to deal with the cuts and scraped around his ankles and wrists if he moved too much.

He was never going to complain about Keith hogging all the blankets again. Nor was he going to complain about his boyfriend’s inability to human before coffee, not that it really sucked. Keith was too unbelievably cute as he stumbled around seeking cuddles and guidance. Lance was as scared as he was tired, and frustrated that he wasn’t strong enough to withstand this forced captivity. Keith would be strong. He’d be quiet, brooding, until he worked out how get himself free. He wouldn’t go around having tantrums. He would have figured out how to get the cuffs off by now. Lance had tried to channel Keith and pick the locks with his nails. All that’d happened was he’d chipped them. Biting them broke his teeth. He was quite certain his captures thought him insane. He was acting insane.

There was only so much he could do chained down to a bed. Thanks to his little outburst he didn’t even know the way back down to the basement, so if he did break out, he’d be caught without being able to do anything for the others. Fuck. He’d even take being locked up with Lotor for the company over his own thoughts... yeah, he really was going insane... but... if Lotor actually helped him... No. Nope. No. It’d been days locked up in the room with nothing. He didn’t even bother trying to initiate conversation knowing he’d be abused if he did. Had Lotor planned something then surely things would have been in place and his arse would have been rescued by now.

*

Keith was not above torture. He wasn’t the saint Lance made him out to be... but his friends were literally the only thing he had left now that he’d been sent down to the VOLTRON staff quarters. Isolated for his own good. What a load of shit. Shiro was still in the briefing room, where he should be... not sent to rest like a little kid when he could sleep perfectly fine in a chair beside Shiro

Hearing a knock on the door to his room, Keith very nearly called out to tell them to fuck off, before remembering the rooms were sound proof and he’d actually have to face whoever was on the other side of the day. He was supposed to be resting. How could when Lance had been gone six days now and Shiro had been working his arse off for the last 4? Dragging his body off the bed, he rubbed at his tired eyes. Sleep hadn’t been his friend. He’d slept when Shiro slept because he’d believed Shiro was okay and he thought maybe with his brother back in action they would have located Lance by now.

Hearing the soft knock again, it irritated him. Striding over he flung the door open to find Miriam standing on the other side. Shit. Yeah. He hadn’t been the best person around, and he definitely wasn’t winning any awards when it came to checking up on Mami. With her standing in front of him, he didn’t know what to say. Both of them staring at each other before Mami gave him a sad smile

“Oh, my poor boy”

Shuffling forward, Keith tensed as Mami wrapped her arms around him. The last person to hug him had been his brother. Mami was tiny in comparison. Her head coming up to his chest

“M-Mami?”

“I’m glad you remember who I am. I’d be very sad if you forgot me”

Way to make him feel even shittier about himself

“What are you doing here?”

“Call it an old woman’s hunch. I thought you could use some company”

No. He really couldn’t... but he couldn’t say no to Miriam. Mami squeezed him tight before moving her hands to grip Keith’s arms lightly

“Ah... I can hear your thoughts my boy. Don’t you worry, this old bird came bearing gifts”

Keith didn’t know when Mami had the chance to cook, only that she’d brought food down to him. The bag left by the doorway when she’d shuffled in for a hug. Opening the bag, everything smelt delicious, until he caught sight of a certain bottle

“Mami!”

Mami chuckled. He supposed he sounded how Lance did when he was scolding her. The bottle of vodka wasn’t full. Mami was definitely some kind of grandma rebel

“That’s to share. I know you haven’t been taking care of yourself. Lance would have kicked you into the shower by now. My nose might just fall off”

Okay. Maybe he hadn’t showered in a little while...

“My mind’s been elsewhere”

“On our Lance. I heard about what happened with our Shiro and the others. He wouldn’t want you letting yourself go like this. Now, there’s some soap in the bag, I want you take a nice warm shower, and I’ll get dinner organised”

How was Miriam so composed? Her youngest was missing. Possibly being tortured and she... was there. With dinner, alcohol and an ungodly amount of patience. Keith found himself questioning her good intentions. He’d let her son be stolen away. Lance wasn’t back and he was... being useless. He wanted to scream. He wanted to drag in as many vampires as he could and force them to tell him where Lance was. He was acting like the Keith he’d used to be. The Keith who had nothing to lose.

“Why? Why are you here?”

“Because my boy, it breaks my heart to see you suffering”

She had to be suffering too... He had no right to

“But Lance is your son...”

“And he’s your boyfriend. Our Lance is strong. He’d be broken hearted to see the man he loved in so much pain. I have faith that our boy will come back to us. Now off to the shower with you. I had to pull many strings to sneak away from Krolia. Woman was giving me more grey hairs with her worrying than I know what to do with”

Lance probably thought he’d given up on him. He wouldn’t rest if their roles were reversed. How could he look his boyfriend in the eye?

“Do you... do think Lance will still love me?”

Miriam chuckled at him, Keith feeling self conscious knowing she was laughing at him

“My boy. That son of mine is absolutely crazy for you. Always talks my ear off about you. He says your very stubborn, but very sensitive. He’s always at me not to tease you because he doesn’t want you be sad. He adores you. Gracious, you’re as bad as my boys, you need to take a shower, mister. I can’t let Lance be seeing you like this. He’d scold me for not taking care of you”

Heading to shower, the warm water hid his tears. Keith letting everything go as he cried out how much he missed his boyfriend. He missed his whole existence. The sleepy smiles as they lay cuddled up in bed together. The way he knew Keith needed his morning coffee and let him hang off him until he was caffeinated. The way he was the dorkiest and clumsiest vampire in existence. He felt like his soul had been cut in half and he didn’t know how to exist on his own after finding love with Lance. Trying to stay strong was exhausting. Nothing was going right and no one would give him his boyfriend back. He had Lance’s clothes but he feared if he handled them too much they stop smelling like him... and then he’d have nothing anymore. Keith already felt like he was forgetting what it felt like to hold him. To hear his voice.

Cried out and much cleaner, Keith climbed out the shower slowly. The warm water left him in a state ready to pass out in bed. Without a change of clothes he put on what he’d been wearing before, having to admit that he’d definitely been past due for a shower. Lance really would be kicking his arse for how he was acting. He was 27. He needed to be an adult... no matter how much everything hurt right now. Shiro would... Shiro would work this out... and Lance and Curtis would come home. Lance would tell him off for being a wreck, but Keith wouldn’t care because his boyfriend would be back and those who took him would have paid for it... slowly. Torturously slowly.

Heading back into the bedroom area, Mami had dinner all organised. She’d even had someone smuggle in two small glasses for the vodka. Drinking would change nothing. It’d only serve to make him more depressed, but one drink wouldn’t hurt, it might even take the edge off enough to finally rest

“You smell fresh as a daisy. Dig in, you need your strength”

He smelt like Mami. The soap that Lance always went to such trouble to buy because he knew she loved it. He wanted more times like that. More times of watching Lance fuss over Miriam with love in his eyes. The way Mami was looking at him... like... like she loved him, hurt

“Uh... thanks. I... know I’ve been a terrible partner to Lance... and I’ve neglected you...”

“Hush yourself. Lance is going to be found. I’ve seen enough airport security television to know he’s not getting through a cargo detector with those racing heartbeats of my grandbabies”

Keith hadn’t thought of things like that. The image of an irate Lance stuffed in a suitcase came to mind. His boyfriend would be so fucking pissed. Still, there were other avenues open if someone really wanted out of the country. Miriam seemed almost naive to think Sendak would waltz into a public airport and fly away to Zarkon’s territory. nearly half a moment later he realised that was the lie Mami was telling herself to keep going on strong. She had to believe Lance would come back, because the only other option was her son was dead... again. Keith wouldn’t believe that until he saw Lance for himself.

“Now, let’s have a good meal and a few drinks, then you’ll get yourself some much needed sleep”

Krolia had tried to be there for him... but she was better off being where she could be useful and not chained to his side. He was lashing out. Moody. Desperate for any kind of news and angry the Blades hadn’t found something despite all their work

“Thanks, Mami. I... don’t know how you can be so kind to me. It’s my fault he’s missing”

“Don’t you say that. Those people who took him are to blame. You’re not the one who abducted him. And if you are, I’m very cross at you”

“I wish I was... then we’d know where he is”

“I suspect he wouldn’t think of it as an abduction if it was you. He’d probably skip away merrily with a smile on his face”

“Probably. He’s kind of hopeless”

“He’s also lived a long time. He’ll be back home sooner rather than later. Now, eat your dinner. You can tell me everything you know while we eat. Lance often says I give good advice”

Keith resisted rolling his sore eyes at Miriam. She was so fierce and gentle... Lance would probably be the same with their twins. Fierce, gentle, and paranoid about dropping the baby... As for the whole “advice thing”, Miriam really did give good advice. He really should be going into detail, but this was Lance’s mother. She looked at things completely different to him and everyone else around them. She had a unique kind of “inside outside” view of the situation... There wasn’t much to be lost if he talked to her... he’d just have to leave out the scarier bits

“Yes, Mami”

He and Mami shouldn’t have been left unsupervised with the vodka. One more glass turned to two more. Keith’s tongue getting away from him as he spilled too much about how all of this was making him feel. With his defences down, he could have talked to Mami all night. She held his hand, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand like Lance would. She filled in so many parts of Lance’s life as “their little secret”. The parts of his childhood that were happy felt every bit the distant memories they were. Lance learning to drive had to be his new favourite story. His boyfriend overcompensating for his sense, driving so slow Mami smacked him until he crashed into a stop sign... then freaked out. Noticing she’d gone missing, Krolia came to find her. Eyeing the glasses on the desk, his mother raised an eyebrow, Keith feeling ashamed for actually finally relaxing and talking to someone about what he was feeling. Things were different now. He knew Krolia cared for him, but trauma didn’t disappear and he felt weak for relying on Mami when she had enough on her plate.

“Do I need to seperate you two? Or ask who was leading who astray here?”

Miriam laughed softly at Krolia, maybe his mum wasn’t as cranky as he was mentally making her out to be

“Don’t blame, Mami”

“So she’s the culprit. Leading my son astray, whatever shall I do with you?”

Mami smiled at Krolia

“You could sit and have a drink with us?”

“I only came to make sure you two hadn’t snuck out. Pidge tried to. Matt’s decided she needed rest and has sent to her to sleep”

Mami nodded, abandoning her glass in favour of placing her other hand over Keith’s

“Ah, perhaps it’s that time. Keith, you should rest too, my mijo”

He still felt self conscious... and kind of didn’t want Mami to leave. Hearing about Lance was nice. The kid that loved soccer and dancing...

“What about you?”

“When you get to my age, you can just about sleep anywhere”

That wasn’t what he meant. He kind of felt Mami shouldn’t be alone either

“Do... you want to stay?”

“I’m flattered by the offer, but can you imagine how jealous Lance would be? If I was 30 years younger I’d eat you up”

Krolia covered her mouth as she snorted at Miriam, before composing herself into “mum mode”. Keith hoped he hadn’t offended her by asking Mami to stay instead of her. He’d just... Krolia had her son and knew where he was. Mami didn’t. She was old and... He didn’t know what he’d tell Lance if anything happened to her. He hated Luis with a burning passion, but he wanted someone with Mami. He wanted someone there to take care of her and make sure she wasn’t pushing herself

“Miriam’s right. You need to sleep, we can all see it. We’ll wake you if we learn anything, and I won’t be making a move without consulting you first. It’s hard to have hope, but all we can do is trust in Lance and Curtis to do what they have to do until we can bring them home. Matt’s heading down to Garrison tomorrow to collect a few things for Rieva and pick up Blue. Maybe you could go with him? Or make a list of things that Lance would like to come back to? Oh... I’ve got this back too... I know it’s customary to keep evidence, but I felt like you should have it”

Krolia tossed something into Keith’s lap. Keith realising it was Lance’s phone. He hadn’t been allowed to keep it. Lance’s laptop was bagged as evidence when Pidge’s was retrieved from her parents... so he’d really thought he wouldn’t be allowed his boyfriend’s phone. Hitting the power button, the screen lit up. He was Lance’s background. Fast asleep with Kosmo curled up in his arms. Keith hated the photo because it was him, Lance loved it for that reason... his doggo no longer that tiny now he was 8 months old. Feeling himself growing teary. He really fucking missed Lance... Miriam squeezed his hand

“We’ll bring him home. You’ll see. Krolia, can I tempt you into a nightcap?”

Krolia groaned playfully, before nodding

“Ooooh, you’ve twisted my arm. One when we get back to your room. You’re a terrible influence on me”

Mami cackled. Maybe Krolia could be the one who stayed by mami’s side. They got on so well, and Mami would have a protector by her side

“As I’ve been told. Keith, you get a good night rest. I’ll see you tomorrow. Remind me to tell you about the first time Lance tried to make dinner on his own when he was four. I’m sure that’s a story he’d never want repeated seeing he was naked”

Mami tapped the side of her nose mischievously. Keith kind of wanted to know that story, but he kind of really wanted to find some kind of video of he and Lance to watch on repeat until he fell asleep. He knew Lance had a habit of filming things... even when they didn’t turn out right and people were left headless in the frame

“Thanks, Mami... and thanks for coming to see me”

“You’re welcome, my sweet boy. Don’t forget you can talk to me about anything”

“I know... I just... yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“That you will. Not too bright and early though, need to put my makeup on and my teeth in... You never know when you’re going to need to bite someone”

Mami sounded like Pidge, but Pidge wished she’d grow up to be as badarse

“Right, that’s enough you two. Keith, don’t stay up too late. I’ll know if you are and take that phone back”

Krolia could try. She wouldn’t get very far. He had Lance’s phone and that was the closest thing he had to his boyfriend right now. He wasn’t going to invade Lance’s privacy. He trusted his boyfriend and his emails and messages were his private business. His photos though... those were fair game.