#also WHY are they rushing this season so bad like CHILL OUT!!!!!

[zukkaoru]

if bones cuts tecchou’s “everyone misunderstands jouno” line i am literally never trusting anyone again

[kithtaehyung]

broken, pt. 1 (3tan) | myg

title: broken (pt. 1) pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series:masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: chilling conversations prolong things even further… until everything goes to hell. note: this is only one half of what was supposed to be a whole chapter! broken, pt. 2 will come out after i've had time to make it something i'm proud of. trying to rush everything out didn't do any favors, so hilariously and ironically, broken is broken up into two hahaha. warnings: language, angst, tension, yoongi’s pov is longgg, alcohol consumption, tobacco mentions, bro🥲, yoongi in the studio😩, the studio boys make another appearance👀, …someone else makes their first appearance👀👀, scuffles, tense situations, did i say angst?, water bottles get their own warning, long hair yoongi, basketball yoongi🫠, crying, bro a ha ha, jimin has tats and he’s not afraid to show them, the chains stay on(???), …bad boy yoongi😀👍, honestly he is on another level of warning here don’t perceive me💀, the fluff is fluffing here like what, backstory we’ve been waiting for😗, yoongi on the phone, hand holding :’)), kissing :’)), oh god the kissing❤️‍🩹, there’s just a lot in both parts i'm sorry y'all playlist: broken (lp) drop date: dec 3rd, 2023, 4:00pm est word count: ...19.1k 🚶��♀️

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Words abandon you.

They stand far from your form, pitying observers of your decaying state in front of the man you’ve been lying to. At once, you feel completely alone, not even Yoongi’s lingering presence helping when those eyes are piercing through time and space. Everything you’ve experienced over the past two years slings across your vision, from the first time you left your house in the pouring rain to get to Yoongi’s, to the car ride back you just took with his kiss still on your lips. 

All of those moments shattering into dust around your heels. 

Your feet make lines in them when you move to close the front door, something leaving your mouth before you can judge if it makes sense, “About what?” 

Zero sense. Absolute zero sense. Which your brother has absolute zero patience for. The drone in his question hits you like a punch to the gut, “Really.” 

“Just out late, is all,” you grumble, trying your best to not acknowledge an atmosphere so tense it’s almost crowded. “Jimin had another party, remember?” 

“Course I do.”

Huh? Wait. Why does he sound so—

“I was there.”

Dread launches up your veins, rocketing right to your heart in the middle of a pulse. He was there? You saw his car when Yoongi pulled up close to the house. He was there? When the fuck did he arrive? Oh, fuck, if he got there early enough… did he see you… and Yoongi…

No. There’s no way. Because one, Yoongi parked far down and around the corner. He made sure not to be close just in case you two could be spotted. 

With a thought you really cannot afford right now, you also assume he stayed that distance just so that he could pin you against his car. Fucking hell, focus! Upping the strength of your resolve to match cardboard, you lamely stall in your hunt for clarification, “You were?” 

“I was.” 

The watch on his wrist glints in its twist. When aggravated veins stare back at you, it’s obvious your brother is on the edge. Because he is deathly calm. “So where’d you go?” 

You blink, not having expelled a single breath since you stepped foot inside. 

Does he not know? Or does he know and he’s just waiting for you to finally spill? With all the hope in the universe, you yearn for it to be the first one. Because you cannot deal with a fallout right now. Not right after what happened with Yoongi. 

It’s just not the right time. 

“Yuri’s,” you blurt, finally kicking into gear and strategizing how you’re gonna finesse this. “She came and got me.” 

Your sibling just stands there, eyes a solid beam before he sighs at clasped wrists. 

Here it comes. He’s gonna ask why you didn’t say anything. Like he always does because for some reason you’re still not a true adult to him and he has to keep tabs on you at all times and you can’t just sneak around with his best friend in peace—

“K.” Your eyes shake once. “Just tell me next time.” 

And just like that, your brother vacates the foyer, dark dress shoes clacking as he retreats back into his room. Leaving you standing in silence. 

All the words around you just as speechless. 

Just like that, you’re gone again.

After watching you leave and wishing you didn’t have to, Yoongi shuts his door to rest ponderous thoughts on worn wood. Eyes closed and a storm on his mind’s horizon.

Just a little longer. He hopes you’ll understand. This is just something he needs. More than anything else. 

Exhausted, he peels himself from the door, meandering through the bog of his living room. Trudge, trudge, trudge to the dining table, skirting fingers along the edge and noting that it feels different than before. 

At least something in his apartment has changed for the better. 

Who would’ve thought that table would witness both an end and a beginning. That it would see the worst and best of him. If it was ever called to stand, there’s no doubt that it could recite all his failures and shortcomings. But he hopes that it would also attest to how much he’s fucking tried. 

As much as Yoongi wants to throw it out, he hasn’t. Because despite being withered to hell, all it needed to recover was the new company of a familiar face. 

And a little bit of summer rain. 

It watches as his thoughts move on, and soaks in the blues and pinks of sunrise as he crosses into the bedroom. At the feel of your lingering presence, Yoongi gnaws on his lip. 

What the fuck does he do now? The moment you leave, he wants nothing more than to have you back in his bed. It’s the one fact that he has come to fully acknowledge. Because there are many times you’ve caught him slipping. But when you’re lost to your dreams? Visibly at peace and safe under his sheets? That’s when he can’t even think straight. 

How your serenity throws him into disarray, Yoongi has no fucking clue.

But he can’t afford these feelings right now. Because how can he want you close while being the reason for this distance? Make it make sense. Don’t be a fucking hypocrite. Tsking, Yoongi once again accepts the consequences, heading to his bathroom before going back the fuck to sleep. 

Lies. Who is he kidding? There’s no way his rest will be the same without you. Especially since he doesn’t know when he’ll get to see you next. 

There is a way to remedy that. To put an end to your time apart. But Yoongi’s been so in his fucking head that it’s chaining him down and pulling taut. No matter how much he struggles, he can’t break free, and it’s driving him to the brink.

But last night? With you? Half moons mar his palms as he stands. Staring. Branding that whole memory into his heart.

After three months of questioning his existence. 

All it took was your soft hums to give him a reason. 

And you won’t ever know how much that meant to him. Not until Yoongi finally decides to tell you. Which will most likely be never. Maybe that’s why this time tears at his chest more than all the others. Maybe that’s why he stood in his doorway longer than usual. Maybe that’s why he can’t quite carry the weight in his chest.

Dumping himself on dark mountains—creations of his and your design—Yoongi buries his face in those valleys. Inhales those aromas like some hit he can live off of for however many days left he needs. 

Desperately grasping for a fading world where only you two exist. Drifting. Dreaming. Disarmed by a vibration on his nightstand.

The fuck.

Who is texting him this early. There are only a few people he has notifications on for wait it’s probably you saying you’re home.

Peeling himself off the sheets with a groan, Yoongi simply shifts his upper body to reach for his phone, squinty-eyed as he checks his screen.

And he doesn’t see your name.

Dumbass: 1 New Message

But your brother’s.

What the hell does he—

Dumbass [07:30]: We need to talk.

…Shit.

Yoongi grips his phone in panic, ice water streaming through his veins and mind set ablaze with potential scenarios.

He’s awake. You went home. And he’s awake. Fuck, did anything happen? Did you say anything? What are the chances this text means he found everything out? 

Shit. 

Does Yoongi answer now? Or does he sleep and pretend that this is just a text and isn’t a problem at all? Think. Your brother may not even be referencing you, or him. Right? It could be something completely different. 

Why can’t he fucking move? 

Every regret Yoongi’s kept at bay floods his brain, crashing into assumptions of your mental state and creating a massive whirlpool of dread. Just answer. Don’t answer. Just answer. Don’t fucking answer. Suddenly, another alert lights his home screen and it’s a call oh fuck—wait… It’s Jungkook? 

Why not. Sure. What’s one more issue. 

Picking up, Yoongi runs hard fingers through his hair as he answers.

“Hey, you coming?”

“Huh?”

“We have that session in thirty.”

The what. The session? Oh, fuck. The session. Yoongi completely forgot they had a recording booked today because they were so hyped last night to get a date for the release party shit. Vacating his bed, Yoongi answers with a low, “Yeah, I’ll be there.” 

“Yeah, don’t be late. It’s those guys from before.” 

Fuck, it’s that one. The dudes that stopped by the studio just as things were wrapping up, shocking everyone when they scheduled some time. Highly successful musicians and performers booking something with a no name studio? Things are rolling in the right direction and coming along fast. 

But as things go. If they don’t take this shit seriously, everything can crash just as quickly.

“Heading out,” Yoongi finally says as he yanks a hoodie from his closet, and a loud vibration against his ear makes him flinch. 

Dumbass [7:40]: Heading over

Fuck!

“You okay?” 

“Shit, yeah.” Yoongi grips soft material before his phone hits his desk with a thump. Hastily dressing, he grunts, “Maybe. Might be like two minutes late.” 

“Nah, come now.” 

He’s heading over? Your brother? If that’s the case, there’s no way he doesn’t know. 

Fuck, relax. Don’t overthink. If anything, there wouldn’t have even been a heads-up. Yoongi figures he’d just find out as soon as he’s thrown against a wall. Or the ground. Or right onto his coffee table that this very guy helped pick out. Shit, he needs to know but he doesn’t wanna find out. 

But nevermind him. Are you okay? Swiping his device, Yoongi quickly types a text before fast-walking out of his room, going on autopilot when he assures into his receiver, “I’ll get there.” 

Yoongi [7:42]: Going to the studio

“On time? You better!”

Goddamn, he’s juggling too much right now. 

As Yoongi breaks into the dining room, he hears a rustling on the line before other voices jut through the speaker. Sounds like Hobi and Joon are already there, and the next thing said further spikes his stress level another peak, 

“We’re already cutting it close with the prep.” 

Fucking hell, the prep. The mics, the tracks, the setup. They forgot to do all of it. Something inside of him starts snarling and almost pounces through the phone, “Fuck, we should’ve been ready already.” 

“Shit, I know.” 

“We can’t keep doing this.” 

“Dude, relax, I get it.” 

“Do you? Cus this is… Fuck.” 

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll get it done but it’s gonna be tight. Hey, where’s the… Damn it, what’s it called?”

Frustrated and rummaging through his pantry, Yoongi knows he sure as hell didn’t think about anything else as soon as he heard you crying on the line. If he had remembered while leaving the studio, he could’ve spared a brain cell to rush everyone back in. “The what.” 

“The… The overhead mic for the drums.” 

Of course, he’d repeat every decision he made last night. Over, and over, and over again. But any of them should’ve remembered this step before leaving, which pisses him off. The studio’s lack of experience is showing and it’s making him nervous. 

And Yoongi still doesn’t know what’s going on with his best friend. 

“We need two overheads for drums,” he corrects while swiping a water bottle from the counter. And he’s about to rattle off where they are when he feels another long buzz. 

Dumbass: Incoming Call 

Of fucking course. 

Mind whirring so hard he can feel steam, Yoongi quickly recalls where the mics are, “They’re somewhere in the back by the amps, but I gotta take this so I’ll see y’all there.” 

“Wait, where are the—”

Nope. Kook’s just gonna have to figure out whatever he’s asking on his own. Switching calls, Yoongi answers while opening his door, hastily putting out the food and water he grabbed from the kitchen. 

“Hey.” Fuck, is his voice shaking? What the hell is he gonna be faced with in the next few seconds? Can he freeze time and rewind and keep last night on repeat? “I’m about to head out.” 

“Don’t leave yet, I’m coming.” 

“No, just”—Yoongi dashes back inside before grabbing his wallet and keys from the bar—“You good? I can’t be late.” 

“Don’t lie. Y’all are done, right?” 

Don’t lie. Yoongi feels like hurling. 

“We got another project,” he huffs as he meets sunrise again, blazing a trail through his corridor and rounding the corner to his car. “A band’s coming in for a session.”

“Shit.”

There’s a pause on the line. And it’s the first bit of silence Yoongi’s had since he got the first bone-chilling text. Is his secret safe? Are you okay? Should he work extra late and run from a problem yet again? He’s very good at that. Running. If there was a medal for distance ran from issues, he’d be on the podium for both gold and silver.

“Okay, fine.” 

Relief is temporary. This could just be him biding his time in order to figure out what to do. Or maybe he truly doesn’t know what’s going on and Yoongi has a bit more uninterrupted time with you. 

Delusion is a great place to stay.

In any case, his friend’s behavior is alarming. What’s he doing up this early? And why is he wanting to swing by so bad if not to slice him into tiny pieces? Nerves slow on the downslope, Yoongi shuts his car door and lends his ear, “But serious, are you okay?”

“I just… Tch. I can’t even say it.”

He lets his friend go through a series of small sounds on the line, pulling out of the lot and hitting the road with tire squeaks. “What’s up,” he finally pushes, looking sideways and remembering the car ride home. 

There was no way Yoongi was gonna say no to you. He didn’t in this universe, and he’d bet his whole life he doesn’t in any other one, either. Not when your wings looked like you hadn’t used them in months.    

Pained, Yoongi hopes you’re completely fine and sleeping. Tucked away in a bed that captured part of his heart, visiting him in your dreams so that some version of him can be at your side. 

“Everything, Yoong.” 

But, as it so starkly turns out, he has to deal with reality. And with the fact that you’re just as far away as you were before last night. Maybe even further out of reach. 

So, so far away. 

“There’s a ton of shit, but. Fuck. Guess we’ll have to wait.”

Right now, deal with the studio prep and get through the session that will probably take awhile. After that, meet up with your brother and hope to god he doesn’t know. “K.”

“Just lemme know when you get back.”

Then, when all of that is done, Yoongi will be alone. Staring into the night and trying his hardest not to give up on himself again. “Yeah, I will.” 

“No running.”

“K.”

When the call ends, Yoongi lets out the harshest breath he’s ever let out in his life. Hoping you went right to sleep without dealing with any of that. 

“How did that sound?” 

Looking into the recording room, Yoongi raises a thumbs up as Hoseok clicks back to the beginning of the track. At their side, Namjoon hits a button on the console before speaking into a microphone, “Y’all wanna come hear it?” 

“We can move on. Wanna get the doubling done.” 

Huh? They’re gonna move onto vocal doubling already? With a few blinks, Yoongi think it’d be better if they—

“Okay!” Jungkook agrees from the couch, cutting out any other thoughts. “If any of you need adjustments, let us know.” 

“Yeah, actually, can one of you come switch this out?” 

Joon throws a suggestion over his shoulder, but Yoongi is already heading for the booth before his name is even mentioned. 

Get everything done smooth. Stay disciplined. Be professional, goddamn it.

Entering the soundproofed room will always make him want to occupy the mic instead. That feeling hasn’t gone away, and there have been countless nights where he’s spent time just sitting in this very space, visualizing what it would be like to work on this side of the glass someday. Deep down, Yoongi knows he could be somebody. But imposter syndrome runs deep. 

Avoiding cables strewn about the room, he offers his hands without a word, taking a guitar from the lead singer and making his leave—

“Hey.” He turns. “You’re good.” 

What? Where the hell did that come from? Did he even hear this guy right or was he just daydreaming again? Yoongi’s so thrown he can only stare with question marks for eyes. 

Amused, the singer simply points to the side of his beaming countenance. “You have an ear.” 

Huh. How the hell can this dude tell? All Yoongi’s done is indicate if a recording take was good or not, and given a few minuscule suggestions to the keyboardist and guitarist—instruments he’s well-versed in. 

Yet again, he’s so in his head that the man outright laughs, “Relax! You can talk to us like normal, you know. None of us care about etiquette shit.” 

“Shit, my bad,” Yoongi finally responds, instrument in his hands proving a little lighter. “Thanks.” 

“Of course.” Swishing long bangs to the side, the performer rests a hand on his hip. “We’re open to anything. We’d just tell you if your opinion sucks.” 

Eyes creasing with his lips, Yoongi puffs out a laugh. 

“Kidding. Only a little.”

Even though these people are world-renowned, they’re the first humble group to run through the studio. Everyone else has been either cocky, standoffish, or super opinionated, which made for unproductive hours.

Yoongi likes this change of pace. His shoulders start to feel composed, less scrunched than they had been since you left his place this morning. Comforted, he looks down at the guitar in his fingers.

Choosing not to say what he wants to. 

Should he? Nah. These guys know what they’re doing. Despite the nice offer to speak up, it’s not his place. Far from it. 

…But what would you tell him to do? What would you be proud of?

Committed to his answer, Yoongi grips the neck and decides without another thought, 

“Do the chorus again.” 

The whole studio stills. But all he’s looking at is the man in front of him, shaking his head when they ask, “Same way?” 

“Uhm. No.” As he hands the guitar back, Yoongi wordlessly checks if he can see the sheet music. When given the go-ahead, he scans the lines before pointing out a passage to note, 

“Mm. Here. Vocals are fine as is, but. Ride the build-up quicker and hit the next chord after a bit longer.” When he stops, he has to fight to ignore the eyes on him. There’s no doubt that his extended time in the recording room is being questioned, and his hand movements probably make him look stupid. “It’ll keep in time but hit harder.” 

Done. He said it. 

And the response that follows puts complete silence to shame. 

Instantly self-conscious, Yoongi swears he can hear Hobi’s pants shift in the control room through two closed doors shit he took it too far. Fuck, if these guys walk out now the studio is done for and he’ll be the only reason why—

“Well, goddamn. Let’s try that then.” 

Huh. They’re gonna take that? 

As he steps away, Yoongi feels slightly awkward doused in attention. Yeah, expressions seem like looks of approval, but they could just be polite. 

The man hums the chorus with Yoongi’s notes in mind, and his eyebrows tick a bit before he addresses the others in the room, “You heard him?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Yeah, we can try that.”

“Why didn’t you think of that, Woosung?”

Yoongi can’t keep his amusement under wraps as the singer laughs, addressing his keyboardist with a grin, “Damn, not even Sammy? Straight to Woosung, huh.”

“Sammy would’ve thought of it.”

Another bout of mirth spreads joy around the recording booth, and Yoongi shares a look with the singer before they both nod. 

“Let’s see how it sounds.” 

“K.”

Proud and adrenaline-filled, he turns to walk back to the door, head so buzzed he doesn’t know what to do. But when Yoongi can’t see into the control room anymore, he misses a stare through the glass.

A stare that lingers on him just a little too long. 

The rest of the session goes smooth, and Yoongi’s relieved that they haven’t asked him for anything else. 

After all. He doesn’t wanna push it, or step on Jungkook’s toes. What happened in the recording room only went down because you would have scolded him for not seizing that moment. And the suggestion he gave was lauded after the next take.

It was the first time since you kissed him goodbye that he felt a healthy pulse in his chest. Despite the chaos of the morning, amid the thoughts and worries penetrating his brain, you reached out and kept him steady in just the right moment. 

Fuck being his good luck charm. You give guardian angels shame and you don’t even know it. 

“Okay, we’ll take ten after this.”

Jungkook holds up an arm while agreeing, “Okay! We’ll save what we got!” 

Yoongi’s scanning the tracks when he feels hovering over his shoulder, and he already knows it’s the kid without looking. “Sup.”

“Nothing.”

“You sure.”

At this, Jungkook pauses before he sighs. “Yeah, it’s nothing,” he clearly lies. 

But Yoongi will let him figure out whether to run with that or not. He seems a little bothered about something, and it very well could be what happened in the booth. This is work, and they’re both adults. If he wants to talk about something, Yoongi will gladly have that conversation. 

Suddenly, a vibration erupts in his hoodie pocket, and his phone is fished out without him even thinking. 

Hustler: Incoming C—

Shit. You wouldn’t call him at work unless it’s urgent. Which is quickly throwing any possible theories about your brother not knowing out the window. 

But fuck, he can’t answer yet. There’s no way. Not only is he in very close range to someone you don’t wanna speak to right now, but he’d get blasted for being on his phone during a session. Hoping you can wait just two more minutes, Yoongi turns the buzzing off within his hoodie pocket, anxiously waiting for the take to start. 

Hoping to everything that Jungkook didn’t happen to see what was on his screen. 

As soon as everyone looks pleased—three takes and thirty minutes later—Yoongi quickly excuses himself from the control room. His head practically overheats on the way out back, but the gust of morning breeze serves to soothe it some. 

It’s been chilly lately. A bit grey. But whatever the weather has been outside, it’s no match for the atmosphere of his brain. 

Pulling his hood over hair he hasn’t cut in months, Yoongi looks around before ringing you up. Hoping that you’re good and didn’t have to go through a version of his panic earlier. 

Hustler: Outgoing Call 

Straight to voicemail? Shit.

Hustler: Outgoing Call

Fuck, still voicemail. Are you okay? On the phone with someone else? Did your brother actually end up finding out and things are worse than he thought? Clutching his phone, Yoongi glances up while giving it slight shakes, body on alert while deciding what the hell to do now. 

Maybe he can at least text you to ask what the hell happened this morning? Typing. Erasing. Retyping. Retrying. 

Yoongi [9:02]: Got a session today, doll. 

That’s what he had to say? That won’t do you any good, the fuck? Berating himself with a sigh, he takes a few steps while texting a follow-up. 

Yoongi [9:03]: Still going, but are you good?

Staring, it takes him a few seconds to decide if this is enough. If these two messages are gonna suffice to help him figure out what the hell he’s getting into later. 

It’s not. There’s too much he needs to know. 

Hustler: Outgoing Call 

When it doesn’t ring a third time, Yoongi gives up, cursing before turning and raking his hood off in distress.

Only to see Woosung materializing out of nowhere—relaxed, silent, and taking a drag. 

Shit. How much of that did he witness?

“Been there,” the man empathizes, blowing out smoke into crisp morning. After a swell of early traffic fills the alleyway, he continues, “In trouble?”

Great. With a sound of dejection, Yoongi answers to a stack of random boxes, “Might be.” 

“Don’t wanna commit anymore?” 

“I do,” Yoongi blurts without hesitation, looking right into eyes that have seen plenty more than he has. 

And it’s the first time he’s admitted anything out loud. To a stranger miles above him in status, no less. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he clarifies, “It’s just… There’s something I need to do first.” 

Wait a sec. Why the fuck is he talking about this so freely? This isn’t something he does. Privacy is practically his brand. So why is it easy to talk to this guy? It’s him, for fuck’s sake. But what’s done is done. Woosung probably won’t even remember this conversation even happened, or is already annoyed as hell he didn’t get a good read on him. 

To Yoongi’s surprise, his alley companion speaks again after another white wisp. “Mmm… Something you need to do?”

Well. Yoongi walked right into this one. Swallowing and knowing he can’t dip out, he sighs, “Some shit I wanna finish.” The smell of tobacco wafts around him when he looks at dulled skies. “Shit I need to get through.” 

An amused hum floats through empty space. “Been there, too.” 

Yoongi slowly turns to regard his client, watching as Woosung becomes very interested in wet concrete.

What kind of shit has this guy seen? Surely, he could have had some of the same experiences. The slight droop in his confident shoulders tells enough. But would he understand the exact same situation? 

No. At least, Yoongi hopes not. Quite fucking frankly, he hopes no one has had to go through the same shit that he has. 

“Let me know if you ever need help,” Woosung offers, shocking Yoongi to the point of speechlessness. As he drops his cigarette to squash it out, he runs a hand through wild dark locks. “We’ll be around again.” 

Wait. What? Yoongi can only blink. “Serious?”

“Yeah.” The man looks down the outside corridor, watching as people start heading to their jobs through a central courtyard. “Got a good feeling about this place.”

What does he mean by that. What can Woosung possibly mean by that what does he mean they’ll be back? To the studio? To the city? What’s happening. Yoongi simply lets a pause prevail before offering the only response he’s capable of,

“It’s the food next door, huh.”

That laugh has got to be top five in the world. Not as great as yours, but definitely up there in terms of what makes Yoongi feel like things are alright. Not that he’d ever admit that shit to anyone. Ever.

Mercifully, the conversation moves away from risky topics. Instead, there are talks about a tour one is planning for his band’s album, mixed in with mentions of equipment the other is saving up for. Then the rest isn’t about music at all.

Finally, it’s time for them to continue recording, so they know to head back inside. “Don’t wait,” Woosung advises as he turns on his heel. 

And Yoongi can only stare somewhere else. 

“If there’s something you need to get through...” 

Stare, and stare, and stare some more.

“Hit it until it breaks.”

Because he’s already aware. More than anyone.

As Woosung shuts the back door, Yoongi’s gaze finds the crushed cigarette at his side. Another reminder of how things were.

And a reminder that he’s still a fucking coward.

Hours later, Yoongi’s car awaits him in the lot. 

And when he realizes that you still haven’t responded, he shuts his door just a little too hard. 

Whenever his friend comes over for drinks, it’s always the same routine. 

Both of them don’t talk much, instead opting for a quiet greeting before someone dumps themselves on the couch while the other grabs a bottle and cups in the kitchen. As soon as glasses are filled, conversation sparks as a game plays out on tv—or a sportscasting show if nothing interesting is airing. 

But this time? None of it happens that way. Because when Yoongi opens his door, he’s pinned with a shadowed visage he's only seen piercing through others. 

And the whole arctic starts to seep into his bloodstream.

Raising a brow and giving space is his chosen course of action. Best to not disturb a beast if they’re already ready to lunge.

And his friend eyes him as he stalks into the house, scanning around in search of something—living room, dining table, even looking into the open doorway of the bedroom. 

Fuck. Relax. Don’t assume anything until things are on the table. Yoongi has got to pretend like tonight is normal and fine and that he’s obviously and positively not seeing and sleeping with his friend’s little sister. 

And that he most definitely didn’t eat you out where your brother is sitting now motherfucker he needs a drink. Or a smoke. Or both with a plane ticket out of the whole country. 

At least the television is already on. If it wasn’t for that ambiance, Yoongi’s head would be jam packed with every goddamn sound known to man. Including the adorable way you talk in your sleep, and how you strain so beautifully when you come fuck, fuck, fuck! Focus. 

What’s happened has happened. And what’s going to happen will happen. Whether it’s a consequence of his actions, or nothing to do with any of this at all. 

But when faced with everything smushing together at once? Yoongi will probably need to be revived no matter what the outcome. This is the most stressed out he’s been in years. 

Not only that, but his stress is more than obvious. Even now in the kitchen, he’s scanning through his bottles with a finger—an action he’s never done while sober since the choices are always predictable. Holy shit, he needs to pull it together. 

Has he ever been this panicked? Does he appear just as chaotic and disjointed as he feels? This is too new. This is very new and if he doesn’t regain control there’s no telling where this foreign road leads.

But the silence still remains as he turns. And apparently the road hits a dead end at his dining table. Since it’s occupied rather than the living room sofa. 

Sighing, Yoongi ambles to his friend, placing everything down with clinks and ignoring the way his furniture is getting burned through. Both whisky’s are ready. Yoongi’s already holding his. And your brother still hasn’t moved a muscle. Honestly, what the fuck is going on with—

“I went to Jimin’s last night.”

…What. 

Don’t react. He’s staring. Don’t fucking react. Take a drink. A sip. Pick up the goddamn glass. Doing so, Yoongi slowly brings the liquid to his lips, not quite following his own instructions as he asks behind a barrier, “How was it.”

His question is met with a laugh that isn’t funny at all. The kind that drags a finger along the chalkboard of your soul. And the next question directed his way pulverizes Yoongi’s denial,

“Care to share what’s been going on?”

He’s sick. Beyond sick. The room is closing in and closing in too fucking fast. Shit shit shit. There’s no way he saw. No fucking way. He parked down the street he deliberately stopped as far away as possible and you saw your brother’s car in your driveway. Did he get there after you left? And didn’t see you while also not hearing from hi—

“Why her, Yoong? Hmm?”

Fuck! 

Yoongi can’t feel the air in his lungs. Because there isn’t any. Just a barren wasteland of shriveled futures and cracks in the foundation of every relationship he’s had in his whole life. The millisecond before a crash and only his wheels spinning and spinning and spinning—

Your brother shoots out of the chair, making the glass in Yoongi’s palm feel infinitely more solid.

“I mean, fuck! After all the shit we’ve been through? You’re gonna go back to her?”

All the—shit, he can’t even—back to? Back to you? What does he mean by back to you? Does he know about the first ti—

Volcanic, the man interrogating paces beside the dining table. Back and forth, back and forth. A pause. Back and forth.

And Yoongi still feels frozen in time. Is this it? Is this when things come crashing down? Glass suspends in midair all around him; an orchestra trembles beneath his feet, waiting for the moment to rip into his rib cage with swift strokes and a flourish as he’s taken down. 

“Can’t fucking believe you.”

When Yoongi finally chooses to speak, what comes out only feels like a horrible attempt more than anything else, “Listen, it’s my fau—”

“What, you just decided to fuck that bitch again? Couldn’t stay away?”

Oh, fuck that. 

Wood scrapes into flooring as Yoongi vacates his chair, hard feet planted as he gets into the face of his best friend, his confidant, his day one. Only to speak so low only them two can hear, “How bout you use your fucking words already and I’ll tell you.”

“Yeah? Is that what you want?” They are only a breath apart. But no one’s going anywhere now. “Need me to spell it out for that fuckass brain of yours—”

“Say it—”

“Stop fucking your ex, dude!”

Yoongi’s back connects with the chair behind him, palms flinging back to brace himself through a jolt of pain. And his eyes go so wide they stretch at the edges.

…Motherfucker, what?

Your brother is not done in the slightest, but Yoongi can only stare as he’s being berated for something that is one-hundred percent news to him, too. 

“Everyone was happy when you finally left. All of us. Only for you to go and, what, get back with her?”

Nothing makes sense. This isn’t about you? Yoongi’s heart can’t even reset to start beating again. Everything is coming as shock after shock and there’s no way he can keep up at this pace.

His ex? Her? Where the fuck did that come from and why the hell does he of all people think that’s actually true?

“If you’re gonna be with her, you can count me out.” 

No. Never again. That would never, ever happen again. “The fuck are you even saying—”

“I’m not fucking joking, Yoong. If you’re seriously back with her then—”

“Look, I don’t know what the fuck you heard, but I’m not.”

“So everything I heard was a lie?”

“Huh?”

“He told me!”

He—who? Who the fuck would say that? And when how what the fuck and why? Yoongi stares, chest heaving with every inhale and exhale. Because he has a choice to make. Either he trudges into this lie and rubs sludge all over his bones, or he denies it like he wants because it’s not fucking true.

What the actual fuck. It’s already bad enough that someone sent this along the rumor mill. And it’s making him sick thinking about all the implications surrounding it. But it’s even worse that his best friend believes it so easily. He’s coming at him so quick without even asking if it’s true. 

The only silver lining—the singular bright spot in this hellhole—is that he can use it as an out. An out to protect you from wrath and further fury from your older sibling because if you were the rumor? He’d be laid flat on his floor next to a broken dining set.

“You gonna say anything or what?” 

Truthfully, Yoongi feels queasy knowing what he’s gonna do. But it’s for you. You, you, you. And for that, Yoongi will do anything. 

Even if it kills him.

“No, I, umm…” 

“No?” 

Just hurry up and fucking do it. 

Resigned, Yoongi lets the memories flood through. Every moment that’s haunted him from a distance charges forward as he surrenders to the pain of his past. “It’s—” Fuck, he can’t even begin to lie, head thundering, thundering, striking his heart in the rain. “I...” 

His friend halts. Tense before his shoulders fall back to normal. “You what.”

What the fuck does Yoongi do? What can he say when his brain is only firing up to beg him to run? Technically, he doesn’t have to say anything. He really doesn’t. But he can deflect. It’s what he’s best at, after all. He’s been doing it to you and he will do it again.

In the most defeated voice he can muster, Yoongi comes up with something that will placate his friend while still prolonging this horrid fib, “You don’t have to worry about that anymore.” 

“You sure?”

It’s true. More true than anything. “It’s over now.” 

A century passes. Then another. Then another. Every piece of furniture waits in silence as the television seeps back into his ears. 

Then his friend sighs, not looking back as he slumps into the same chair that you always occupy. And Yoongi hopes his sigh of conflicted relief isn’t witnessed. 

Following suit, he rubs his lower back before taking his regular seat again, not giving any shits about waiting to drink. 

His ex? 

As his throat warms, Yoongi starts to harden the more memories keep crashing into each other like jagged waves fuck he really hates how she was brought into this he swears as soon as he figures out who said this he is going to—

“Sorry.” Haze shattered, he lifts his gaze. “I’m so fucking stressed and hearing that last night just…”

“It’s done.” Yoongi reaches for the thick bottle, pouring more into his glencairn. Wanting to talk about literally anything else, he diverts the conversation, “But something else is up with you so say it.”

It works. The man inhales deep, rubbing his face with weary hands. When he rests elbows on wood, he finally talks about other things clouding his mind,

“Work is shit,” he groans downward. “They’re having me travel again.” 

“Domestic?”

“Yeah. But for longer. And I don’t…” Tapering off, he sits back, slowly playing with his glass. As if he doesn’t want to mention the next problem. 

When he finally does, Yoongi wholeheartedly understands the hesitation, “I dunno know what’s going on with my sister.”

Oh. Fuck, how the hell does he respond? Keeping his cool, Yoongi just repeats the question, taking out his phone and pretending to check his screen. “Your sister?”

“Yeah.” A sigh is sandwiched between explanations. “The past few months, I feel like.. They haven’t really been themselves.” 

A sudden crack splits him through.

“Not laughing. Not eating as much. Like even when they sound happy, I can tell it’s a front.. I don’t know.” 

The clunk of his phone hits the table very hard. 

No. No, no, no. Your texts have been so positive. So encouraging. Other than a few sad calls, you’ve been happy to hear from him just as he had been relieved to hear from you. Even in the car, you must’ve put your feelings lightly. 

Your wings. You’ve been enduring all that? For him? Yoongi’s heart rears its head, snagging one of his breaths and slamming both lungs into the floor.

And hatred paints his heart another shade darker.

“They finally went out last night, but. Didn’t come back until this morning.” Running rigid hands through his head, the man looks so pained. So helpless. “Same clothes, dude.” 

And Yoongi can only stare, feigning nonchalance but raging and tearing himself apart inside. “Mm.”

“I just… I know I suck at this, but. I don’t know what the hell to do. Or if I even do anything.” Your brother finally takes a swig, wincing at how much ethanol coats his tongue. 

Relax, relax, relax. As much as he wants to erupt on himself right now, Yoongi has to stay calm.

Not like he doesn’t know how. That’s usually how he operates, anyway. It’s hard to tell he’s struggling unless you look deep enough. And almost no one thinks to do so because his surface is all they want. 

But right now? He doesn’t think he can sequester this anger any longer. At him, his past, and his stupid present decisions. 

“Like I tried to say something but I just.. I felt like if I push too hard, they’re gonna shut down even more. Ever since that fight with Kook, it’s like..” 

Seeing an opening and keeping a neutral stance, Yoongi asks the most ironic question to date, “Are they seeing someone?”

At this, his friend shakes his head, eyes glued to dark amber liquid. When he answers, all the breaths in the world cut at once, 

“I think she feels all alone.” 

This hit is the strongest. Straight to the gut, breath stuttering and muscles clenching so hard they lock. It’s almost severe enough to affect how Yoongi feels around his eyes. 

“And it sucks not knowing what to do.”

Yoongi’s heart lurches, deflating and slipping out of the crack in his chest. Piercing on the jagged edges before slumping down onto a table that continues to judge him.  

You’re hurting. Your brother’s hurting. And it’s all his goddamn fault. Why can’t he just break free and admit shit? Why is he still haunted by the phantoms of his past? Why is he still so fucking weak? It’s clear that he hurt you. For months. You’ve been cheering for him that whole time while you’ve been visibly broken and it’s all because of his dumbass decision to—

“I’m heading out again.”

Yoongi raises his eyes. Because he can’t seem to move anything else. “When.”

Your older sibling takes a slower, more measured sip. Looking towards the channel playing in the living room, he answers, “After our game. Dinner Friday, game on Saturday, fly out Sunday.” 

“Mm. We’ll still be here,” Yoongi assures, keeping things as normal and neutral as he can. “Just like last time.”

How ironic. How hypocritical. He hasn’t been there for you in the slightest so how the fuck can he say that with a straight face. 

“Thanks. I know it’s a lot for y’all but..”

Not at all. Yoongi is more determined than ever to make everything up to you. It’s the least he can do after putting you through something he decided on the fly. 

On the run.

“Don’t worry about that,” he vows into his drink. Honestly, if you’ve been having second thoughts about this whole thing, he doesn’t blame you. Absolutely doesn’t blame you if you realize you’re better than this. But Yoongi’s at least gonna apologize in every single way he can. As soon as he possibly can. “We got it.” 

“K.” The man finishes his glass and goes to pour more. “Did I ever mention that she liked you?”

Now what— Coughing on whisky is a bitch and a half. Hitting his chest while both eyes squint from burn, Yoongi croaks out his exact thoughts, “What.”

At this, his friend finally breaks into his regular smile. Setting the bottle down with a hollow clunk, he points, “Don’t you fucking get any ideas. Jimin’s already on my shit list.” He scoffs out a laugh. “But it was obvious when we were younger.”

And Yoongi can only cough some more. He shakes his head through the sting, swallowing and trying to compose himself. He doesn’t know where the hell that came from, but he hopes your brother will understand when all is said and done. Even though he’s been the reason you’ve been so…

Yoongi almost fucking confesses.

“You’re a good person,” he blurts instead. Whether the guilt or last cough pushed it out, that’s still on the table. “You don’t suck at what you think you do.”

“You think so?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

The hell? Does this dude really not see how successful he is? How much he’s overcome and conquered and sacrificed? Truthfully, Yoongi wouldn’t be where he is today if not for your brother. Him. Jimin. You. Anybody. Which is what makes this ongoing betrayal… 

Unprecedented.  

“You’re the best out of all of us.” 

Your brother finally looks at him, though Yoongi isn’t doing the same. But he can still tell when a fist is held out for him to bump, so he does.

And they both share a drink in respectful silence. 

After a moment of them watching the tv, the man finally sighs. “Guess we did shape up pretty nice.” When he’s agreed with, he keeps going with a grin. “We were so fucking bad.”

Yoongi can only chuckle, much better memories fighting off the terrors. “Old me was a little shit.”

“You still are.”

“Says you!”

“I still am, too!”

Laughs precede big swigs of whisky and comfortable quiet. Bit by bit, shoulders start to relax with the surrounding air, and Yoongi lazily releases tension in his neck. 

After a few more pours, your brother decides to call it, using the bathroom before announcing that he’s gonna head out. Yoongi gets up from his chair to clasp hands goodbye, not expecting to hear one more plea,

“Break up with her, Yoong.” 

Shit. He sighs, and their conversation continues from the dining table to the front door. “It’s not like that.” 

“Yeah?” 

“It’s over now.” 

“For good?” As they stop beside the coat closet, your brother pins him with a look. “I was about to drive over and break down the door.”

Even though Yoongi shares a tsk with him, he can’t help but imagine what could’ve happened if that was the case. And it sends an unwanted jolt of chills. 

“Serious. I’m gonna keep saying this, but. she was just making you miserable, dude.” He slips on his shoes, smacking his foot on the ground to push one in place. “I’m sure it was good at first, but I mean… You gotta move on. You deserve better than that.” 

Anything would be better than that. Yoongi just disagrees with the whole deserving part. “I guess.” 

“You sure it’s over?”

“Yeah,” he assures, because that is something he intends to keep true forever. “It is.” 

“Good.” Keys jingling, your sibling then points into the open area with his whole arm, seven words leaving his mouth like ice, 

“Then get rid of that fucking guitar.” 

Ah. Among all the things. Of course he would bring that up, too. Jaw working, Yoongi looks away, now assaulted by all the torturous thoughts surrounding that painful reminder and fighting them off with no success. 

Get rid of it? He’s been trying. 

For three. Fucking. Months. 

“I might.” 

“…K.” 

And his best friend departs, leaving Yoongi inside and staring at the same black spot he’s kept in the corner for years. It has mocked him as he struggles. Laughed at him whenever he’s tried to throw it out. And aside from the times he’s made you feel better stinging himself on those strings, he has accomplished nothing except letting it win.

Pissed off and doused in guilt, Yoongi yanks himself away from the door, the instrument, and everything else except for his bed.

Keeping his shadow exactly where it stands. 

Yoongi knows he needs to talk to you.

But his phone exists somewhere on the other side of his bedroom door.

And he doesn’t have the strength to go get it. 

What time is it? 

All that greets him is darkness. 

Nothing new, but darkness all the same. 

Why was she mentioned? What does that mean? 

He needs to call you. He’s lying to his best friend. 

Her? You. His sheets still smell like you. 

Inhale. Breathe. Inhale. 

He needs to call you. But he’s so, so tired. 

And the darkness pulls him back under. 

Without even telling him the time. 

Buzzing. 

Faint, gentle buzzing softly lifts Yoongi’s eyelids before a loud series of smacks causes him to rush out of bed what the fuck? 

Oh. His phone fell outside. Fucking hell, his heart’s beating way too quick for that to be the only thing that happened. 

Head in his hands, Yoongi sighs deep before making his way to the dining table. And it takes all of his strength to bend down to reach for his phone. 

Hustler: Missed Calls (6)

Dumbass: 1 Message

Hustler: 3 Messages 

Chim: 7 Messages   

Chim: Missed Calls (3) 

Holy fuck. 

With only the light of his phone illuminating the dark, Yoongi rings Jimin up. His heart’s a little disappointed it wasn’t you calling just now, but it’s probably best to stay away while his brain is so scattered and torn. 

“Oh, fuck. There you are.” 

“Mm.” 

“Don’t scare me like that, bro. I was starting to get ready to drive over—” 

“It’s fine,” he juts in. “What’s up.” 

Alright, maybe he shouldn’t be an asshole. There’s no reason to let his lingering shadow from earlier control his temper now. Jimin’s just being himself, for fuck’s sake. 

“I, umm. I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.” 

Now that’s not what Yoongi expected at all. “For what?” 

There’s another pause on the line, and his reaction is immediate when he knows for a fact Jimin is fighting back tears. 

“I… I got so drunk last night, I—And I—”

Shit. A sinking feeling starts to weigh Yoongi down, his center pulling the rest of him in like a black hole. And he doesn’t need to hear the rest of this to know what this call is about. 

“He was looking for her, Yoong, and you weren’t there, either. He had this look, I—I couldn’t think of anything else to say in the moment and I told him—”

Jimin can’t even finish his confession. And it hits right in the gut. 

Despite his perceived persona, Yoongi doesn’t like hearing people cry. At least, if they don’t deserve to or don’t deserve to be sad—or if they’re you. He could care less about the rest.

But Jimin is one of the only people that can get him like this: eyes stinging at their edges and his chest concave. In the dark, though, no one can tell. No one can see him.

So he can openly swipe at his eyes before dumping tired limbs into a chair, catching his forehead in a damp palm. 

“I’m an idiot. I’m sorry.” 

Exhaling through his nose, Yoongi tries his best to calm his emotions. Because they are still raging and it’s going to take all of him to quell this tempest. 

Jimin knows more than anyone what this means to him. To you. The time you spent apart? If it wasn’t for his friend, Yoongi may have been in a much different position. If this was the only thing Park could do, then his effort has to be acknowledged. It worked like a fucking charm.

But goddamn, Yoongi wishes Jimin thought of literally anything else. He could’ve made up some random, some fling from another city, the damn studio itself. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he finally rasps out. “It’s just been a fuckin’ day.” 

Jimin sniffles before cursing at himself and, judging by the sounds on the line, Yoongi figures he’s opening his fridge. If he reaches for soju, that would not be surprising in the least, and now that sounds like a good idea.

“Same. Gah, I just… I should’ve warned you. I didn’t know he went over there.” 

“He told you?” 

“I called him after you didn’t answer earlier.” 

“Oh. Yeah, I passed out after he left.” 

“Ah.” 

Something shuts before there’s a crisp clink on the line, validating exactly what Yoongi was thinking. 

“I really am sorry. What did you end up saying?” 

“That it’s done.” 

A hum. 

“That’s very true.” 

There’s a question that Yoongi thinks to ask. Context that he needs. But as important as this information is, Yoongi doesn’t feel like talking about it right now. Or ever. But now still counts. So he switches the conversation over to something less daunting, “Practice still on tomorrow?” 

When Jimin laughs out of surprise, it gives Yoongi the smallest kick of energy.

“Ah, someone actually ready to go for once?” 

“Yeah. The plan is to make this game quick.” 

A hearty swallow spills out of the speaker before a hum follows, 

“Mm, that reminds me. Got something that might help with that.” 

What the hell does that even mean? “Huh?” 

“I’ll bring it over tomorrow. You might find some good uses for it.”

Yoongi rubs the grogginess still clinging to his face. “All these years and you’ve never given me a straight answer.” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

“Knowing the answer.” 

At least Jimin’s back in a good mood. Or a better state than puffy-eyed and regretful. He doesn’t have to share the pain in this, too. It was an honest mistake. 

“You’ll know it when you see it.” 

“Annoying.”

“Love you, too!” 

Yoongi’s huff billows through his nose, and Jimin’s energy almost brings enough strength for him to clear the table. 

Ehh. He’ll leave it alone. He’s been pretty good at that lately, too, no matter how early or late it is in the night. What time even is it? Checking his phone, Yoongi’s brows crease when he figures that out. Why the hell are they even on a call right now? “Wait, is it really three?” 

“Huh? Yeah. I’m telling you, dude, I was getting worried.” 

He was really about to drive over? “Sorry. I really did just pass out.” 

“Mm. Well, I’m gonna go do that now.” 

“K. Same time tomorrow?” 

“Ah, a little earlier. Just so I can give this to you before everyone else shows.” 

That just makes Yoongi infinitely more curious. “Seriously, what did you get?” 

“Relax! You will like it.” 

“Chim, I swear—”

“You’ll thank me later bye!”

As soon as Jimin disappears from the line, Yoongi is left alone again.

Exactly where he always ends up. 

Exactly where he doesn’t want to be. 

But now that he’s done dealing with those notifications, Yoongi roams lidded eyes over his screen again. 

Wait. You called him six times? Fuck. What did you text? Were you wondering where he was, too? 

Hustler [20:01]: HOLY FUCK!! my phone died after i tried calling you this morning and i just fully woke up to charge it😭 he’s not home so call whenever  

Yoongi clutches his phone a little tighter. 

He very much would’ve rather been in your bed with you all day. 

That sounds like fucking bliss. 

Hustler [23:37]: tried calling but he’s home now. are you ok?? idk what’s going on with him but i think we need to be careful

Shit, Yoongi didn’t get to tell you. You’ve probably been worried about that every second you’ve been awake today. 

And he couldn’t even make it out of his goddamn room to help. 

All he comes with is worries for you. What kind of shit is this? What is he even doing? He even outright told you that you were dating only for that to be ripped from your hands for months. Why are you still giving someone like him a chance? 

Hustler [23:40]: but all i wanna do is see you

Fucking hell.

Nothing in the world can stop his heartbeat quite like you can. With that smile, or those eyes, or the simple shit like this. Not even lightning can strike him the same way. 

Despite the consistency Yoongi has with admitting his own shortcomings, and despite the way he keeps reminding himself he doesn’t deserve you…

All he wants to do is see you, too. 

You’ve been more than he ever would’ve imagined—your consideration, your intellect, your mind. And there have been times when you’d look at him as if he was the center of your galaxy. 

After all this time. All these days and nights. 

You still don’t realize that he was destined to orbit you.  

It’s been decided long before his mind was made up—at least, the part of him that doesn’t traverse the dark side. His heart had been tugging him to you ever since that rainy day, no matter where he’s drifted or which direction he’s gone in. All of them lead back into your arms. 

But just like the feeling he gets walking into the recording booth, imposter syndrome eats him alive and doubt scavenges on what’s left. 

He will never be good enough for you. One of these days, you will realize that you don’t have to settle for him. It’s good now, but you’ll only give him so many chances, which he is swiftly running through at breakneck speeds. 

How fucking stupid. Having these thoughts while wanting nothing more than to hear your voice. 

Just like everyone else, you’ll eventually be done passing through. His winter will return after your inevitable departure, all the warmth you give focused on something else that deserves it more. 

Something that isn’t broken. 

Yoongi whips his head up at the sound of buzzing, noticing thin lines of light beneath his phone on the table. 

What. No way. 

From the rapid beats inside his chest, he shoots his hopes right into the dark. 

And they burst into beautiful sparks when he reads his screen. 

Hustler: Incoming Call 

But just like the streaks of color he witnessed with you on that balcony, his brightness is short lived. Because as soon as Yoongi answers, the way your throat constricts scorches his windpipe through.

And the first thing you attempt to get through makes his eyes shut tight. 

“Are we… is this over?” 

Fuck.

“I get it, if we are. If you—if you don’t wanna do this with me anymore.” 

Fuck. Fuck everything this is not happening right now. “Hold up,” Yoongi breathes, body on full alert. “What’s going on?” 

“I thought… When you weren’t picking up, I—”

“Breathe, babe,” Yoongi softens, hating, hating, hating himself all over again. “I passed out before you called. That’s it.” 

“Oh. Shit, I really thought—”

“You would know,” he whooshes, syllables squeezed out by the mountain of regret on his back. After hearing what he put you through? Hearing how you sound now? There’s no way he can do that shit again. No more disappearing from the grid because he can’t fight himself. “You would know if I was done.” 

Your sniffle sinks the ship with his heart inside. 

“Are you? With me?” 

Yoongi folds, fingers digging through his hair and blocking it in hard chunks. The amount of things he wants to say to you could wrap the whole world before repeating. But he settles with a truth he can say out loud, 

“No way in hell, doll.” 

Please. Don’t cry. Because he can only handle feeling his eyes sting so much in one night. There’s only so much he can take before he’s grabbing his keys and speeding over—friends and brothers be damned. 

“Okay… I’m just. It’s been a day.” 

That’s okay. 

Because he’s had a day, too. 

“I don’t wanna bother you with it, though, it’s so late.” 

Please keep going. 

Please don’t leave him alone. 

“Talk to me.” 

Like a gentle stream, your recap—though not ideal—washes away the weariness from Yoongi’s eyes. Lifts the weight he bears on his shoulders, even if just a little bit. 

You’re so good at that. 

“Well. Umm. He saw me coming home this morning. And, umm. It was weird. I don’t know why but I think we have to be really careful. And ugh, it—. It sucks because he’s going on a trip soon and I don’t wanna stress him out even more but I—” 

Shit, you’ve probably been holding all of this in ever since you got up. You don’t know that your brother believes something entirely different. But of course you’d be considerate, even now. That’s just who you are.

“I, umm. I feel so fucking bad about it but I don’t wanna mess him up right now. Or maybe he knows but just won’t say it? Fuck, sorry, I’m trying not—to—”  

The phone goes mute, and Yoongi’s head suddenly weighs ten times heavier. 

“He doesn’t know, babe,” he soothes, hating how he can’t be there to comfort you with more than his word and waves in the sky. 

If he was stronger, things could be different by now. Vastly different. Vastly better. You would cry less, he knows that for damn sure. Weak, weak, weak. That’s all he fucking is. 

The only one he seems to be strong for is you. “He came over earlier.” 

“Fuck, really?” 

“Yeah.” 

You pause, seemingly to roll this information around that beautiful mouth of yours, and Yoongi has the strongest yearning to kiss all your worries right out of it. 

“What did he say?” 

Shit. You’ll just have to forgive him later. Because Yoongi chooses not to tell the whole truth. You don’t need to bear the same worries as him, anyway. They aren’t yours. He will shoulder all of those on his own. Because he’s the reason for them in the first place. “Nothing about us.” 

“Oh, thank fuck.” 

Good. Your relief is all that matters. But Yoongi still feels bad for not being able to pick himself up. You could’ve known that a lot sooner if he was stronger. If he was better. “So don’t worry, doll.” 

“Okay. What about you? Are you okay?” 

Huh? Your questions catch him completely off-guard. It’s almost comical how his first reaction goes straight to a No. But sticking to his earlier stances, he won’t bother you with any of that. There is a truth that he can admit. One that’s always true and will continue to be so. “Just wanna see you.” 

And this is when his eyes slowly shut. Don’t. Don’t cry.

“Me, too, baby.” 

Hearing that? Chipped and broken from your lips? That is another thing Yoongi can’t handle. His heart beats once before it free falls, and he clutches his phone just a little tighter. 

Fuck everything. He’s gonna find a way to do this. All of it.

“I’ll figure it out.”

“You will?”

He’ll figure out how to move mountains to make it up to both you and your brother. 

“Just a little longer.”

He has to.

“Okay.”

Neither of you deserve this. And he doesn’t deserve either of you. Truly, the only thing he deserves is to be alone. And judging by the way things are going, it’s only a matter of time before you start resenting this behavior and leave, too. 

“Thank you.”

What? Something in Yoongi flickers, and he lifts his whole head to eye his screen. 

“For putting up with me.”

Oh. Of course you’d assume you’re the issue. Seems like you need the same type of assurance that he does. Both of you the same? Who would’ve thought his bruised soul would sync up with a perfect one like yours. 

At this, he holds his breath before chuckling soft. “This has been the highlight of my day, doll,” he admits, finally breaking into a tiny smile and sitting back.

“Really?”

Wait. There was another good part of his day. But he wants to save that for when he can tell you in person. “One of them. But you’ll hear about the other one later.”

“Boo.”

Cute. Wait, isn’t it absurdly late? You have to be up for work in mere hours. It’s a miracle you reached out when you did. “Don’t you have to be up soon?”

“A ha… Yeah.” 

“What are you still talking to me for?” 

“I miss you.” 

Well. That’s not something that he expected. And your admittance being so immediate actually sends shivers down his arms. 

Yoongi can only laugh to himself. He knew he had it bad, but this feeling is something else. “Don’t do that.” 

“Don’t do what? Miss you? Yeah, right.”  

God. You’re getting too fucking good at this. He’s gotta fight back or else his throne will be taken before he even sees you again. “Just a bad night to say it, doll.” 

“Why?” 

Perfect. “Cus I’m willing to get in the car.” 

“Fuck.” 

Yoongi happily lets his mouth slant when you groan, chuckling into the receiver and getting up to clear the table. When he flicks on the kitchen light, he doubles down, “Wanna try again?” 

He knows you’re gonna say no. Even though your brother doesn’t know, it’s definitely not a proper time to sneak you out—as much as he fucking wants to. Fuck, to be the one sneaking you out of your house… Maybe there’s another version of you both out there that’s done it. A version of him watching a version of you creeping out to his car, face shining in nightfall and etching a permanent smile into his heart.

“I hate you.” 

Yoongi should’ve expected that. The sudden laugh that flings out into his liquor cabinet ricochets off multiple bottles, and he shuts it while sporting a wide grin. “That’s better.” 

“Ha ha.” 

You’re smiling, too. Cute ass. Just the fact that he knows makes him excited for the future, and he’s determined to make it count. Make it worth it. You deserve every goddamn apology he can give. “I miss you, too, babe,” he whispers, grabbing the glasses from the table to wash in his sink. 

“Nu uh! You hate me, too.” 

Wait. Did you…

Did you just pout? 

Hell no, that’s outright cheating. That’s when Yoongi will never be able to win. Putting the phone down, he promptly states his new plan into a basin, “Nah, I’m going to sleep.” 

“Wait, huh? Why!” 

“Nothing.” 

“I swear to god—” 

“Nothing at all,” Yoongi lies, voice straight as he can muster while hot water runs over his hands. It’s a good kind of sting as his chilled skin adjusts, and he cleans one glass before he hears you ask in his ear, 

“Getting ready for bed? Or are you in the kitchen?” 

The smallest smile graces his face. “Guess.” 

“Kitchen.” 

The hell? “How’d you know?” 

“You’re always in there.” 

Can’t deny that. The glasses are both set to dry in the dishwasher as Yoongi’s amusement dies down, and his next comment flows out before he can think much of it, “You like to keep me in here.” 

“It does seem to be where we end up, huh?” 

“It does.” Which is fine by him. He’ll never forget all the times you’ve been in here. Your laughter and your storms, he will remember them all. 

“The world said let them cook.” 

Your giggles will be the fucking end of him one day. Fuck, he can’t wait to see you. He may even find a way to see you before the game. 

But for now, Yoongi will figure out how to talk to you, every day, no matter what. Texts, calls, whatever the fuck. The effort has got to show from now on. No more of this dark headspace shit. He needs to try harder and figure it out faster. For you. 

“Go to sleep, doll,” he huffs with full cheeks. 

After another adorable batch of sounds, you rustle on the line before sighing, 

“You better sleep, too.”

“I will.” 

With a blink, Yoongi notices two things. One, he just cleared his table and cleaned up without even thinking. And two, despite feeling like absolute shit the entire day and dreading the coming of night, falling asleep won’t be an issue. 

Because of you. It’s always you. 

Maybe there’s a way out. Maybe he can finally face it all and come out on the other side. “Talk to you tomorrow, babe.”

“I’d like that. And you’re sure he doesn’t know?”

Just like that, the demons are knocking again. Closing his eyes, Yoongi murmurs into the receiver, “I’m sure.” 

There will come a time when he will tell you. But that will be way in the future, when he is ready. For now, you’ll just have to trust that he’s telling the truth. Not the whole truth, but enough for it to calm your nerves. 

“Okay. Good night, baby.”

One more heartbeat to get him through the night. 

“Night, doll.”

When the phone cuts, Yoongi’s hand falls, his stare shifting straight to the living room. 

Right towards the corner that stares back. 

It’s been five days.

But it feels like you’ve aged twenty-eight years.

Ever since your brother confronted you—after your much needed reunion with his best friend—you’ve been floating through time. Lost. Confused. Wondering why that conversation went the way it did and gnawing at your sanity bit by bit. 

And even though Yoongi explicitly told you he didn’t say anything concerning your relationship, you still haven’t shaken that feeling. No matter where you are, who you’re with, or on a pretty Friday like this one, you feel… Strange. 

When you saw your brother waiting, you for sure thought you were gonna get grilled. It was a given you were gonna break as soon as he started asking deeper and more specific questions. The fallout was gonna happen in your own house right at your door. 

…So what in the fuck was that?

You shift your legs, the chill of the office failing to comfort you in your manufactured, building distress. 

Somehow, that version of the conversation proved much, much worse. Because now you’re spiraling trying to figure out why he just took your lie as the truth. Truthfully, you feel nauseous. And as much as you need to get some semblance of closure, you still feel hesitant. Because if he’s just biding time? He’s not just thinking about what to do with you. 

He’s thinking about what to do with Yoongi, too. 

This is so hard. 

The only thing—the only thing—keeping you grounded. Is Yoongi himself. 

Ever since the call you never thought he’d answer, you’ve been contacted every night. What was once days of radio silence quickly shifted to him reaching out however he could, hours of the day be damned. Just last night, in fact, Yoongi sent you texts at four in the morning, and you beam just thinking about what he said so casually.  

Yoongi [3:57am]: That keyboard I told you about is fucking dope. Just got it today and it won’t let me sleep lmaooo

Yoongi [3:58am]: I was gonna say sorry for texting but fuck it you’re getting all the updates :) 

No matter what it is, be it a text, call, or video chat, Yoongi seems fully committed and in the moment. Present. And it’s been… Really nice. If you didn’t have your brother’s shadow hovering over your brain, life would be practically perfect. 

Forcing yourself to actually work, you manage to get some small things done. Even the meeting you attend goes smoothly and you leave any outside worries on the other side of those glass walls.

So when you get back to your desk, an awaiting paper bag makes you pause. And your whole body prepares to weep.

Only one person has ever sent you food while you’re at work. And staring inside the parcel, you would’ve been able to tell who it was from even if said person had never sent any before.

There’s a small note on top of a to-go container—one that you immediately recognize as that super good restaurant next to Jungkook’s studio. 

What the hell? How did Yoongi know you wanted some this whole week but didn’t wanna risk being so close? With careful fingers, you pluck the tiny paper from the bag, opening it with care before your eyes get so teary eyed you can’t even read.

Tonight.  

This man.

I got the next one.

This wonderful, charming man. 

But you’re getting what I need so here’s the list:

Goddamn it, Min Yoongi. 

Seeing an actual list of food squeezes a laugh through your throat in a squeak, tears rushing out of your ducts before they’re hastily swiped. 

After five days. Yoongi really just sent you on a grocery run to surprise you with another meetup.

The gesture is so him that you cannot help but shake your head, ruefully huffing to no one and pocketing the note in your bag. And all your worries scatter even further. 

A dinner before the big game is risky, for sure, but at this point you couldn’t care less. Your brother has his own work outing tonight, anyway, and you are dead set on breaking all of this to him soon.

Even though you are very much unprepared. And he is going to lose his fucking mind if he doesn’t know already. Fuck.

You’ve had all five days to think it over. All the possible combinations and possibilities and outcomes. Some of them are extreme, some of them are hopeful. But for a majority of these projections, you have a feeling that none of you are gonna leave it without wounds. 

And you don’t know how you’re gonna save both of them if theirs are cut too deep. 

Regardless, that’s in the future. Not now. Right now, you are staying in the present and working like molasses until you can jet out the door, nary a care nor concern weighing on your heels.

Tonight. He’s gonna cook for you?

You’ll have the first substantial meal you’ve had in months.

Even though you want nothing more than to see Yoongi, your nerves are still buzzing and bumping into each other nonstop. There’s a lot you still need to know. Like why he was radio silent for months, and why your brother has been a little weird this whole week. 

Save it for later. Hopefully Yoongi will tell you why eventually. Or that gap will stay elusive to your brain forever.

Sliding into your car, you dump your bag in the passenger seat before pulling out the list, clutching it close and taking a leap that could either calm your nerves or spike them. 

Yoongi: Outgoing Call 

When he picks up, you legitimately don’t answer. Because even after all this time, you still can’t quite function when you hear that deep voice addressing you directly. 

“Hey.” 

All you have to do is say something. Anything. You could rattle off the damn list, stumbling over all the syllables just like they’re currently smushed together in your fingers. 

But you don’t snap out of this trance until he speaks again. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi,” you squeak out, clearing your throat while watching other people walk to their cars. “Hi, sorry. I just umm.” 

You just what? Somehow lost all sense of language just from him saying hi? Get it together. Stop that racket in your stomach and say what you were gonna say. “Thank you for the food. I’m off work now so I’m heading to the store.” 

He simply huffs a quiet laugh.

“Get whatever you want, too. Just let me know how much it is.” 

Huh. Did Yoongi just say all those words in that order? If you heard him right, forget the damn food. You’re close to speeding directly to his place and breaking down the motherfucking door. “Oh, I definitely will,” you respond with instead of hauling ass, the words pushing through your lingering smile. “And don’t worry about that, I got it.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah! I got big girl money now.” 

Yoongi laughs again on the line, fuller and closer this time. Are you on speaker? 

“It’s like that? Maybe I should work there, too.” 

“Oh, you’d hate it,” you giggle, scheming hard in your head for tonight already. Pretty bubbles in your ribs lift all your spirits. “I’m actually pretty bossy here.”

The groan that seeps through your car should be illegal. 

“That is literally what I’ve been wanting to see.” 

It’s your turn to chuckle as you finally make your way out of the parking lot, heading right to the market that you know for a fact has all of what he’s asking for. “I’m only that way at work, though.” 

“Do better.” 

Your immediate response makes his laugh crunchy in the speakers, and you go along with him because life is good. Life is fucking great right now. “Never mind, you’re paying. And I’m getting stuff for dessert now, too.” 

“What? Who said anything about dessert?” 

“Me,” you huff out in pride. Since he wants to see that demanding side come out so bad. With a fleeting thought, you think about what it could be like if you end up confident enough to— 

“I’m starting to regret this.”

“Regret what?”

“Everything.”

Liar! Your cheeks hurt as you look both ways before making a turn. “Can’t fool me. You’re excited.”

“I am.”

The way there was no hesitation sends shivers up your spine. But it’s partly because you thought you’d be faced with another joke or dig. Not a sudden one-eighty. Stopping at a light, you clear your throat before shyness puffs right out of it. “Well, good,” you state while checking your mirrors. “Cus I am, too.” 

“That’s a given, though.”

“Excuse you.”

Yoongi laughs before you hear the sound of cabinets, and you wonder which ones he could be touching. 

“Mm, babe. One more thing.” 

Can he stop making your heart beat two times at once? “Hmm?”

There’s a little bit of pause, followed by the clank of a pan on metal. When you hear another hum, you wonder what he could possibly—

“I think we’re out of condoms.” 

Who is out of what. If you weren’t still at a red, your foot would’ve slammed on the gas because what the fuck! All you can manage out are sounds without substance, random syllables, gibberish. Nothing is computing in your head. 

“Wait. Or are we?”

Okay, Yoongi needs to stop with that two-letter word before your behavior turns downright criminal. With as much seriousness as you can manage, you accuse, “Are you just fucking with me?”

And his response launches you forward just as the light turns green, 

“Yeah. That’s why we’re out of—”

“Alright!” you cut in, stopping stopping stopping him because for whatever reason, this conversation is too much. Despite seeing this very man naked in many, many ways, just having this talk with him is making you shier than ever before. “Guess I’ll, umm. Get those, too.”

“Nah, you don’t have to.”

“Oh. Found some?”

“No.”

Wait. If he didn’t find some why is he telling you that you don’t have to— “Oh,” you peep in realization. A very sudden, jaw dropping realization. “Goddamn it, you’re too distracting now, bye.”

And he finally breaks with laughter that’s contagious as hell. Which isn’t fair when you’re pretending to be upset with him. Even when you can’t see Yoongi, you can imagine the way his cheeks rise and his eyes crease. The way the whole room illuminates when he’s packed with happiness. 

And you want that to be the case forever. 

“You’re just lucky I’m not there with you.” 

“Yeah, you’d be annoying as hell.” 

“Damn!” 

As the market comes into view, your teeth shine as you grin, roasting this man quickly becoming one of your favorite pastimes. 

“To be fair,” you start to amend, fingers drumming on the wheel as you decide whether or not to say what you want. After deciding that there’s no wrong answer here, you softly admit, “I really do wanna get groceries with you.” 

There’s no words that come out in response. Only the slight movements of shuffling and water running and what could be more cabinets closing. But you don’t really know for sure—

“It’s gonna happen, doll.” 

You clutch the wheel.

“Cus I want that, too.”

One of these days you’re gonna see this damn cat again. 

Foot connecting with Yoongi’s door, you grunt as multiple bags burden your limbs, pride digging divots along your arms—second trips be damned. 

It doesn’t take long for him to let you in anyway, and you swoon at the way he doesn’t even ask while taking some of your baggage. But the kiss on your cheek makes your heart bang into everything between the front door and the kitchen. It’s so distracting that you barely smell the spices greeting you, too. 

“Thanks for getting all this,” Yoongi says as you both cross onto tile.  

“Of course.” Lifting the much lighter load that you have, you revel in the small thumps and thuds on his counter. Not really knowing why. “Let’s put this up before I yell at you.”

His laugh comes out in hisses while you both start reaching into bags. “For what!” 

“Sent me everywhere to find some of this shit.” 

“You could’ve asked somebody.” 

Feeling a bit silly and high off his presence already, you repeat his words in a goofy mocking tone, and the way he blows out air sends your belly fluttering. 

And just like that, things are back to normal again. No worries about your sibling, or work, or anything else looming by the door. Inside is what matters, and the whole apartment fills with jabs and jokes as groceries find their homes.

But Yoongi finds a bag you had separated from the rest, and you snap your mouth shut when he looks inside, something rising in your core when he turns to you with an eyebrow raised. And a smirk so salacious it makes you quiver. 

“What about it,” you squeak out, crumbling when he simply takes the bag and flings it through his bedroom door. “You said you—we were out, so…” 

“That’s a big box, doll,” he points out on his way to your tightly bitten lip. Mouth slicing through your sanity, he approaches you with a glint in his eyes. “Got something you wanna say?” 

“Nope,” you whoosh out oh god he looks way too hot in those sweats wait is that a growing bulge? “Although I will say it took me forever to pick out what—”

Sparks ignite your hands when your lips are claimed, launching them into his shirt and tugging him backward because you’ve been waiting way too long to kiss the shit out of him. 

And Yoongi responds in kind, pinning you to his fridge and so, very obvious that he’s been waiting for this, too. 

Heaven probably wonders how to replicate this feeling. How to imitate this treasured yearning that only he can pull from the depths of your ocean. Deep, deeper, deepest. All these kisses. Your ascending affection. 

“As much as I wanna throw you on my bed,” Yoongi jokes, pulling away and giving your cheek a light tap. “I’m taking you somewhere.” 

And you’re so thrown from the impact that your brain mini-resets. “Huh? We’re leaving?”

“Uh huh.”

Hold on. Wait. Is this what he meant when he said he’s getting the next one? You’re going out to eat? Together? No. No, there’s no way. Yoongi knows that’s the worst possible thing to do right now, as much as the idea is sending your belly in a frenzy. “Are you sure? What about dinner? Won’t people… You know.”

“It’s ready already,” he reveals. “By the door.” 

Your head snaps to where he points out, even though you can’t see through the bar. “Really?” No wonder it smells like a cooking aftermath. All those smells twirling around your head. How did you not even catch the dishes in the sink? 

But hold up, you just bought a shit ton of food! “Then what the hell was the run for?”

Yoongi blinks. Then he does it again. Expression stone still, he responds as if you were privy to his plans this entire time, “I told you to get what I needed.” 

Your turn to blink.

“And I needed food.”

This man is going to be the death of you. Affronted, your jaw hangs before you grit through a smile that betrays you, “Oh, you—” 

“So thanks,” he quips through another tilt of his lips. “Let’s go, doll.” 

The begrudged sound that leaves you makes him kick his head back on the way out the kitchen. 

“Eat.”

The container on your thighs warms you through. “Now?”

“Mm.”

“I can wait,” you assure, watching as night paints the surrounding scenery in navy and black. “We can eat together.” 

“Just a bite then.” 

Turning to Yoongi, you don’t see a change in his face as he eyes the road. The veins in his arm catch all the streetlight, and you gulp before your gaze falls to what he made. Music fills the car, and you decide that maybe you do feel a little hungry. So you listen to instruction, popping it open and being careful as you pluck a piece to try. 

There’s no denying it. This motherfucker is a chef. “Fuck, this is good.” 

Your borderline moan sends Yoongi’s shoulders bobbing, and you will never get over those low, gravelly laughs. “Sorry.” Your hand hovers over your mouth in embarrassment. “I don’t react like that unless I’m alone.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, well,” you swallow. “Course you don’t.”

A tiny peek of teeth show as Yoongi smiles, and you don’t expect what he offers next, “Just be you, doll. It’s just me.”

The next bite of food pauses on the way to your mouth. “Oh,” you murmur. “Same for you then.”

“Nah.”

“Why not?”

“Cus we wouldn’t make it to where we’re going.”

That was legitimately the worst time to put food in your mouth. Sputtering, your words come out low and chortled, “You fucker.”

His hisses are brief before he dips into silence again. As he slowly turns the wheel, you can see a glimpse of something deep in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he suddenly apologizes, swallowing as you keep your gaze. 

What is that look? Weren’t you both just having a good time? “For what, baby?” 

“Everything.” 

Your lungs flinch. This is definitely not what you expected to hear on the way to wherever the hell you’re going. “Oh.” 

Yoongi still doesn’t look your way, and with each pass of a light over his face, you catch quick snapshots of those eyes you’re still so shy of. “I, umm. I didn’t expect shit to pan out this way.” 

“It’s okay,” you whisper. 

After a slow motion of disagreement, his head falls forward just a bit. And your eyes find his hand clutching the gear shift in what you sadly think is frustration. “I’ve just thought about some things,” he starts, another song playing. “How worried you must’ve been.” 

You look forward. Because this is the part where you can’t face him. “I was. But not for the same reason as last time.” Without a hesitation of your own, your palm reaches between your seats. And you can tell Yoongi watches as you take his hand to hold. 

“I was worried about you,” you correct with softness. “It was hard because I didn’t know what to do.” Don’t fucking cry. You filled quite a few buckets already. “When you started not really saying much, I just… Hoped it was for a good reason, so. Yeah.” 

You feel your hand gently pulled, which is already enough to make you melt. But when it’s kissed, you don’t know what the hell to fucking do. 

“I’m sorry, doll,” Yoongi whispers into your skin, lips brushing with every syllable and painting a canvas of his reconcile. “I won’t leave you hanging like that again.” 

There’s a tiny fire in the back of your throat, the embers reaching your eyes just a little too aggressively. You attempt to squash the growing flames before they flare. “Oh. Umm. Thank you.” What else do you say? Yoongi’s being wonderful, but why do you feel… sad? Why is there lingering snow on your windowsill? “Were you worried?” 

“Me? Umm.” He stops at a light that he clearly didn’t want to stop at. Resting your conjoined hands on his pliant thigh, his jaw works as he observes them.

And you wonder if he thinks they slot together perfectly, too. 

“…Yeah.” 

Fuck. “About what?” 

“That you’d hate me.” 

Your heart meshes his fingers with yours. “Yoongi.” 

“Or that you shouldn’t be with someone that’s gone this much.” 

Fuck, he’s doing it again. Regressing. You’ve seen it happen in his kitchen and you’ll be damned if all that work, all that peeling, all that resolution amounted to nothing wait, wait, stop. This isn’t gonna be an overnight fix. And you have no clue what’s been happening, so just keep trying, trying, trying. 

“I’m used to people leaving,” you joke, but not really. “Like seasons.” 

He whips his head to you, and you backpedal because that probably sounded so random. You’ve got to think about filtering your thoughts a little more now that you’re getting comfortable. Yoongi says you can be yourself, sure, but you have to admit your quirks are a little out there. “I know it’s weird, but..” 

He’s quiet as the light turns green. And when you don’t finish, he admits, “I think the same.” 

“You do?” 

Your hand is brushed as a hum peppers it from above. “Mmhmm.” 

“Well.” That’s interesting. You didn’t know anyone thought about that stuff like you did. Now you wonder if there’s anywhere else your wavelengths sync, and if they’ve been syncing up all this time. “At least you come back.” 

Yoongi squeezes your hand tight before he holds it against his lips. Again. Fuck, this is a lot. You’re so wrapped up in his gesture that you don’t catch what he whispers. 

“Hmm?” 

He glances at the center console before putting your hand back on his thigh. 

“Always, doll.” 

And the fire you stepped on rages back with a vengeance. Heat and sting surrounds your eyes, and you don’t hide how you press your feelings into his skin. “Me, too.” 

If you weren’t lost in the surrounding scenery outside, you would have caught Yoongi’s look. But all you feel is his hand clutching you tight, and it breaks you down all the same. 

The rest of the drive is spent with him telling you to eat more, and a bunch of your sing-alongs to almost every song that comes on. It seems like the tiny bit of closure opened you both up, and you don’t even realize that you’ve been on the road for a really long time. 

But finally, Yoongi pulls up to a building, and you’re haphazardly rapping along to a song before you notice. Wait. What? He drove you to a rec center? 

Your fingers curl around his forearm before you even notice. “What’s this?” 

“Where we’re going.”

Hold on, you’re going inside? “Are we even allowed to be here?”

When Yoongi responds, his teeth make you shiver as he smirks. “Can’t say for sure, no.”

“Then why—”

He unlocks before you can finish, and you’re left in an empty car until he rounds the hood, coming over to your side and opening the door. You almost don’t hear what he says next, too focused on the jewelry swinging from his neck as he bends forward. 

But you catch it, and glance once more at the sight in front of you before biting your lip—in nervousness or excitement, you can’t decide.

“You comin’?”

Damn. Obviously, you want nothing more than to see him here. And it’s much too late for anyone to be around. But if something happens… Whatever. 

Your mouth finally unsticks. “If we get caught, you’re gonna pay for this.”

And you can’t resist his stupid grin. “Now get your pretty ass out before I put you in the back.” 

“Yoongi!”

Grinning, he leads you out, and you follow him to the trunk. After bouncing his stowed ball a couple times, he decides to lean in and reach for something else. 

Wait. Is that what you think it is? “Did you always have that in there?” you ask, pointing to the contraption that Yoongi’s using to air up his basketball.

And he does a horrible job at suppressing a smile. Which makes you burst into flutters and beats beats beats. “You liar!” Oh, you are gonna wipe those laughs from his throat. “I had to change up my plans because of you!”

Palming the ball, Yoongi tilts his head dangerously to one side. “And I got to see you,” he proudly claims. “So I’ll take it.”

You hate how the memories come packaged with what’s haunted you. What else happened during that time, and what happened after you left. But there’s no way you’re gonna bring that up. Not when the night has transformed into something so magical. 

So you just clutch your food and lean on his car, opting to compliment him to wipe the murk away. “Got to see you, too,” you puff into the brisk night. Because you harbor a bit of nostalgia in your bones. And because he still makes you shy. “You and your stupid hair.”

Another bout of hisses wisp into your side. As you turn to regard Yoongi again, he slips his chains into his hoodie before continuing, and you swoon at the veins popping out of his skin with each pump. 

How can he look so perfect doing the simplest things? So unfair. 

After seconds that feel like an hour, Yoongi’s done. And he scans the parking lot before telling you to follow him. 

What you expect is some outdoor courts. Maybe getting past a gate or two. So when you approach a back door lit by the shine of a single light, you freeze. “Are we really going in?”

Fishing something out of his pocket, Yoongi simply turns over his shoulder. “Yeah. Why not?”

“Oh.” You didn’t think you’d actually get inside the building. If there was an outside court just as accessible it would’ve made sense. Can you even bring food in here? Is that question even relevant? “No reason.”

“So I shouldn’t bust in?”

Huh. “What?”

“I’ve already done it a few times, so.”

“Wait!” Nerves throw your hand on his bicep before you can stop. “What if someone sees us?”

He’s so warm. And so toned. And if he plans on taking his hoodie off? You’re not prepared for whatever the hell he has underneath. 

Voice softened, Yoongi tries to placate your paranoia, “They won’t, doll.”

“Are you sure? If we get caught here they’re gonna call the police and I am definitely not… Gonna…”

The object in his hand jangles, and you clearly see he was just joking the whole time because keys—keys—stare you in the face. 

What is it with him and keys? 

When Yoongi speaks, you feel like you’ve never done anything bad in your life, and suddenly the thought of trespassing with an official way in is so scandalous, 

“You picked the wrong night to be a good girl.”

You have to admit. Seeing him so mischievous and dashing makes you wanna follow him wherever the hell he goes. Even if it gets you in trouble. Even if you were breaking in tonight, you would be all in. And that thought should frighten you, but it only does because of the wings tickling your rib cage. 

How can he make you feel rebellious and yet still so shy? The power of Min Yoongi. He’s way too good at destroying you.

When you glare, the man only grins, hisses of laughter leaving him way too happily before he unlocks the door to no alarms or sirens. He doesn’t need to throw a wink your way, too, but of course he does as he lets you in. Which causes you to float through the dark entryway instead of walk oh he did not just slap your ass!

A jolt in your cunt causes you to regard him in shock. To which he hums in a feigned question. “Hmm?”

With nothing but darkness and his cologne surrounding you, it’s only natural that giddiness takes hold. Truthfully, you’re packed with so much adrenaline that you feel a little wild yourself. “You’ve been waiting to do that, huh.” 

“So fucking long.”

You are not surviving the night. And you don’t give a single shit.

But as shy and out of control as you feel around this man, you also feel safe—even in a faraway, dark building that you’ve never been in before. That’s gotta say something about him, right? 

Yoongi feels along the wall beside you for lights, purposefully bumping your chest with his front even though he’s securing a ball with an arm. When you question his joking decision with noises, a chaste kiss on your lips shuts you right up.

“You’re in the way,” he jokes through what you think is a smile, and you’re about to move when he flicks on a switch very far away from your shoulder.

Liar! Your jaw drop must be comical because Yoongi’s grin stretches astronomically wide. But you cannot find a retort because seeing him so chill while you’re stiff from paranoia has you at a loss.

Is this how he used to be all the time? This carefree, all caution to the wind? He’s so fucking handsome like this. No wonder he’s pulled so many hearts just like yours. 

When you still don’t find any words to say, Yoongi makes it harder, stepping so close that you have to swing the plastic container away. Taking one of your hands in his free one, he gives it a warm squeeze while murmuring,

“You’re so cute.”

“How,” you ask just as softly.

And Yoongi responds with lights in his eyes. “Just are.”

Your lips mesh with his as he keeps your fingers secured, and suddenly every cautious thing in your body gets launched into the skies, too.

But it ends as soon as it begins. And Yoongi backs away from you with a smile, 

“Eat.”

“Huh?”

“Eat, doll,” he orders before turning and dribbling onto the court.

When you call out that he hasn’t eaten yet, Yoongi tells you that he already did. When you look around to figure out where to even sit, you decide on the closest set of bleachers and make yourself as comfortable as you can.

Which is impossible. Because they’re bleachers. Which is now triple impossible. Because Yoongi just shucked off his hoodie and the only thing he had under it was his chains goddamn it.

If you weren’t already sitting down you would’ve fallen right into the next dimension. How the fuck are you supposed to eat in these conditions shit he’s walking over! 

Your throat seizes as Yoongi approaches, face trained as if he isn’t aware of his overwhelming presence. All he does is bend to place his sweater next to your legs. But the quick smooch on your lips makes you swoon harder than you ever have.

And the way his silver taps your chest makes you mentally hold on for dear life. Wait. What the fuck, Yoongi’s taking them off right now? Right in front of you? Just as you're supposed to eat oh okay he’s handing them to you great wonderful fantastic.

The metal links feel so warm yet slightly cold to the touch. Weighty, yet light. But you clutch them in your hand as you connect a gaze to his.

“Relax,” he orders, lightly slapping the side of your thigh. “No need to worry.” 

And with bangs swishing, he goes right back to the ball waiting for him. Leaving you starry-eyed to hell with silver in your palm.

…Did all of that just happen? Is any of this even real? Quite frankly, you fucking forgot what you were even worried about. 

No matter what he does—simple lay-ups standing in place, dribbling to different spots to shoot, or even lazily jogging after the ball—you’re so enthralled with his actions that you forget that you’re not supposed to be here. 

And it takes your last bite of food for something to finally hit you. How does Yoongi have keys to this place? Where the hell did he score those because you don’t think he ever mentioned anything about working here. Or anywhere else other than the studio. 

Yet another mystery to add to this walking, bare-chested enigma. 

But there’s another question forming behind your eyes the longer you watch him practice, the more you notice how he’s actually going hard. Yoongi’s really good right now. A lot better than what you’ve seen of him before. 

Has he been coming here more often than he’s let on? And why does he look so… serious? You’d be surprised if he even remembered you’re here. 

Setting your empty container down, you gather the chains in your hands again, deciding to slip them over your head for safer keeping. After, you grab a water before stepping down the bleachers, hanging a little ways away until Yoongi notices you’re courtside.

And when he sees you, he stops practicing immediately, jogging to you so sweaty and shining and gross and handsome and— “Wait, you’re all swea—”

You’re pulled into a kiss the same time you hear a basketball drop, salt on your tongue and damp palms on your cheeks. And you melt right into the shiny wood floor, drifting, drifting, sailing into dreamland even though you’re technically already there. 

“Sweaty,” you whisper into his hot breaths of exertion, a twinge between your legs when he kisses you even deeper—breathing, inhaling, taking you in. “Gross.”

“Thanks.” 

You flash a smile against Yoongi’s lips, giggling because this is all better than anything your brain could’ve conjured on its own. When you ask why he’s going so hard, all you get is a question in return,

“You’re perfect, you know that?” 

Huh? Blinking, you suddenly don’t remember your own train of thought. “What did I do?” 

“Nothing.” He presses a wet mouth to your nose. “Did you eat?”

Laughing, you reassure him, “I did, I did.” 

“Good. You bored?”  

“Huh?”

Yoongi leans to softly take your lips this time, and you want to say he’s approaching the legal limit for kisses tonight. “Thought you came over cus you wanna leave.”

“And stop seeing you play? I could watch this forever.” You squeeze the water bottle a little tighter. “Just checking on you.” Another strike hits between your legs when Yoongi takes another, lazier glide over your mouth, and you sigh when he tugs you forward by your bottoms, fingers slick from use. 

You could do this for eternity, too.

“Well I got about five more minutes in me, so..”

This man. 

“Forever might be a stretch.” 

“Ah, shut up. Here,” you offer through a giggle, holding the water out for him to take. 

“Thanks.” When he does, he tilts his head at just the right angle to cut you through, gulping down liquid and making you do the same to your nothingness. 

So unfair. “You looked like you were going pretty hard.” 

Lowering the bottle, Yoongi shifts his jaw before taunting something a ways off. “I kinda was.” 

“It was kinda hot.” 

His laugh makes you smile, and his next swig makes you weep. “Nah, but. This is our practice gym. I can just zone out here, so. It’s been one of those things.” 

Ah. Was this one of the places Yoongi ended up during those months apart? You wish he could’ve brought you along sometimes. Or at least thought about asking. It’s nice just to be around him while he does something he likes. Gaining courage, you say exactly what’s on your mind, “You can always bring me, too. If you want.” 

And it’s true. You don’t really have to do much when you’re with him, because just being around him is what brightens your day. Lifts your mood. 

But you have to admit that watching him play basketball while shirtless is the biggest fucking win in history. 

When did Yoongi get so close? When did his eyes retreat so far away? “I didn’t wanna bother you with this,” he admits, a drop of sweat clinging onto his chin. “I don’t even put music on.” 

“You never bother me,” you whisper back. Hoping that he believes you and that he will start to accept that as fact. Because it is. “Even if you’re being annoying.” 

The bottle crinkles as he smiles, and there’s a soft kiss to your lips that has no real desire behind it. Just a nice peck that sends you careening down a hill of flowers. “You won’t be feeling that way tomorrow, babe.” 

“And why is that?”

“Cus of what I’m wearing.” 

And he says that while half-naked? Like any look on him could get any worse. “Oh,” you scoff out, fully calling his bluff. “As if.”

Well, fuck. You don’t enjoy the smirk plastered on his face. It has you both dreading and excited for whatever demon you’re gonna run into tomorrow. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He shrugs as he starts to hand the water back. “We can go soon, by the way.”

“Okay.”

But before you can grab it, Yoongi pulls the bottle from reach. “Unless,” he teases. “You wanna play me.”

“What.”

His grin shines, face glistening and turning your insides to jelly. “You told me you’d win, so. Let’s see it.”

You said that? While sober? How does he remember something like that when you can’t even recall a time or place you’d tell him something so bold. “When!”

“Right after you woke up once. Said you’re a master?”

Oh. That was ages ago. Fuck, you already forgot how did Yoongi remember? 

“Oh. Well.” Your nose turns up in feigned haughtiness. “Wouldn’t wanna throw you off your game before a championship.” 

“Uh huh.”

“I’d make you cry what the fuck!” 

Water spills down your head in rivulets as you freeze, stunned and watching Yoongi jogging his laughs back to the bleachers like a punk. “Think you got something on your face, doll.”

“Yoongi!” What the hell possessed him to do that to you here? Racing after him with purpose, you slam into him just as he reaches for another bottle, shoving a laugh out of his throat and making him catch himself on hardwood. “Nu uh, gimme that!”

“It’s mine, I just ran out—”

“Bitch!” You lunge for another bottle lying further away, distancing yourself to quickly rip the cap off and to avoid feeling his slick back on your hands. 

And it’s a lawless gym as both of you start spraying water, arcs and splashes of bottled liquid spewing over the court and soaking into your clothes and his bare skin. Which proves to get worse and worse for your wellbeing the more he gets soaked in your attacks. 

Running ends up being the only option to avoid getting completely drenched, and you hightail it behind bleachers before your waist is grabbed. “Fuck!” 

“Uh huh.” 

You try to wrestle out of his hold, his wet forearm digging lovely into your stomach, and you’re temporarily let go just so Yoongi can spin you around. 

Your back connects with solid wall, the impact shooting a grunt out of your throat before you laugh out of pure disbelief. “I can’t believe, you got me to do that,” you rush out, sentence punctuated by your breaths more than anything else. 

Here you are. Under bleachers. With Yoongi’s skin caging you with radiating heat.  

You can only stare as he drinks you in, no doubt looking at his silver around your neck and your chest heaving from exertion. Butterflies float across your stomach when his smile drips, and you fold as soon as he swoops in. 

Everything in your being pulses hard. It’s so visceral that you teeter on the edge of sanity and logic, and the thoughts slipping through your mind are just as wild as you feel. Before you’re even aware of it, a mischievous finger slides along the hem of his shorts, and you jump at the downright boulders rolling down your front, 

“Careful, doll.”

“Hmm?” You feel bad. And it feels fantastic. “What was that?” 

More gravel slides down his tongue, and you shake at his attractive as fuck threat, “Fuck around and find out then.” 

Your giggles add feather lightness into his murky laughs, but you’re so preoccupied that you don’t notice his hand between your legs until he slaps the inside of your thigh. “Yoo—!”

“Unless.” He leans forward. “My baby’s too scared.” 

Holy fuck, you might be. Is he really willing to do something with you? In a public place very similar to where you’re gonna watch him play tomorrow? You don’t know why the fuck that’s attractive as hell, but it is. 

Yoongi grips your chin, eyes falling to your lips and brows knitted before claiming your lips even harder. And despite your bones vibrating to hell, you put your all into the kiss, relishing in the growing hardness you feel against your front. An animal starts to wake inside your core, and you almost feel like stroking it. Feeding it. Raising it only for it to consume you in return. 

“Fuck it, we’re leaving.” 

“Huh?” Dazed, you let your vision refocus as Yoongi chuckles at your hazy state. 

“Fuck this. I’m taking you home.” 

For some reason, the game makes you nervous today. Even while Taehyung strides into the gymnasium with you, there’s a lingering feeling swelling in your stomach, and you don’t have any reason for it yet. 

At least this is another rec center entirely. Because there’s no way you would’ve sat still knowing you had a clandestine meeting in the same place not even twenty-four hours before. 

But the activity already bustling around hardwood catches your attention. Not on both sides, since only one team is here, but they are active on the other end doing drills. 

Wow. They look really intimidating, matching jerseys that were clearly done professionally and warm-ups having a set routine. You wonder if this is gonna be a tough game for… Wait. That’s your brother under the basket. That’s them? 

Fucking hell, Yoongi was right.

Because you’ll already never get over how attractive he looks in athletic clothes.

But team jerseys? 

Seeing this man rock a basketball uniform with his toned arms and legs so visible makes you want to claw your way out of your invisible cage. 

When the hell did they even get those? And why is he already slightly drenched during the warm-up alone? 

As soon as you see him make a lay-up, you know for a fact that you shouldn’t be here. 

Yes, you’re gonna stay and yes, you’re gonna cheer for them all game. But you are absolutely gonna feel like jumping him, which will in turn make you wanna bolt and run all the way out of town every agonizing second. 

Shit, shit, shit. You’re gonna have to try your damned hardest to unstick your eyes from that man the whole time. Already, you can hear Taehyung’s teasing, and your groan is to lament your future state.

Your name suddenly rings across the gym, and four feet pause in your ascent up the bleachers. When you catch both him and Jimin waving you down from their courtside chairs, you tilt your head in intrigue. 

They want you to come over there? What the hell is this about? 

Sighing, you turn. “Guess I’ll go see what they want.” 

“Here,” Tae offers his hand. “I’ll save you a seat.” 

Your bag is transferred to his grip while you nod, and you step down onto the court, wondering if you’re even allowed to walk onto it to see them. And Jimin’s grin can be seen from miles away. “Come here!” 

You gingerly step onto shiny wooden floors, making your way over and becoming hyper aware that someone else notices your presence. But you’re so puzzled as to why there’s no one on the other side of the court yet because isn’t the game about to start? 

Where’s the other team? As you approach their row of chairs, your hands immediately find your hips. “What’s up?” 

Jimin’s eyes stay creased as your brother explains the reason he waved you down. A very stupid, very innocuous reason. “Can you keep score?” 

“Me?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Why me?” 

Your brother uses his jersey to wipe sweat from his brow, and you wince at the brand new material getting gross already. “The girl that usually does it for us is sick.” 

“And you know the game,” Jimin quickly tacks on, rubbing at some tattoos on full display. Wait, are there more than you remember? When did he get more ink?

Your sibling asks another question you had in mind, “You aren’t gonna cover those?”

“Nah. Not today,” the man elongates in a stretch. “Just got another one. This one!” 

Ah, you were right. “I like it.” 

Jimin couldn’t look more proud. But enough of that because you really just wanna go back and observe the game from another place entirely. “Can’t y’all find someone else to keep score?” 

“We don’t think anyone else can,” your brother explains, looking over your shoulder. “At least, not the people coming to watch us.” 

Cool. You get to be met with heat and sweat from all these guys without compensation. How is this something you would say yes to? “Well. I don’t really feel like being a scorekeeper for free.” 

When your sibling laughs with Jimin, they share a look before he says so matter-of-factly, “Told you.” 

You’re sticking with that. If you’re gonna sit next to a bunch of smelly people, they’re gonna pay… you… somehow.

A ways down the row, you catch Yoongi dumping himself onto a random chair, head tilted back before he hangs it forward to wipe sweat from his forehead. 

And suddenly this temporary gig doesn’t seem terrible in the slightest. 

Because one, you can sit on a team bench that will have his fine ass right there. And two, this will give you a way to objectively focus on the game. You won’t have time to be distracted by a demon and his hair that’s gotten criminally long. 

“I’ll get us all dinner,” your sibling slices through your thoughts. “After we win.”  

“Fine,” you sigh, taking the end seat and shooting one more glance to the other side of the court. “Then I get to p—”

The air around you squeezes inward. And all sounds plunge underwater. 

Because you recognize someone you knew from a dark club walking onto the court, his team looking just as sharp and cocky as his eyes. 

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. 

You don’t notice the way Jimin’s hands flex, nor the way a familiar presence walks up to join your brother. 

All you can do is stare back. 

And without even realizing. 

You’re already rubbing your arm.

-

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tbc. :((

-

a ha ha... so how do we feel? | taglist | discord!

a/n: okay, hello, loves. apologies this part took so damn long to post! can you imagine if i tried to post everything at once LMAOO yikes talk about too much at once. but i hope this part was enough to still be good on its own, and broken, pt. 2 will be... well. you can probably guess that's where a majority of my brainpower is going to go. a/n 2: thank you all for being here! it's been an amazing two years working on this series and i cannot tell you how grateful and appreciative i am to have such wonderful people alongside me. i hope this series continues to be there for you when you need it, bc it has become that for me, too. ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ three tangerines masterlist

[ilovebuckers5]

⋆.ೃtreat me better ࿔*:･

paige Bueckers x fem!reader

words : 3k

themes :

-angst

-18+

-comfort

warnings :

-drinking

-slight sexual content

-homophobia

A/N - I got this idea at like 2 am and it took me three days to write it but I love it tbh.

No matter how close the game was, the girls will always go out after a win. Most times I choose to not tag along since i'll probably get pushed aside. This time Paige and the girls came home more excited than usual. They made it to the final four. I was laying on the couch watching a couple episodes of friends when the doorknob of my apartment shook open. The sound of Paige's keys jingling single handily lifted me off the couches cushions. My eyes lit up even more when Paige's bright eyes met with mine.

I was originally just a trainer for Paige when she tore her ACL but during all of that, I was also trying my best to improve my volleyball career. Once I realized that being Paige's trainer would lead to a bit more, I also realized that I would get invested in everything else. Now that she was healed I tagged along the other girls, helping them out when no one was there to help with their own injuries. Finally, the season was almost over. All the other people that helped out with the teams injuries were back and ready to work. So this was my chance to get back on the volleyball court and actually pursue something. Paige was there the whole way. Anytime I would push her away so that she could focus on her own goals she would say something along the lines of "you helped me so much y/n I can't just not give anything back" and I just couldn't say no when she had that sexy of a voice. Who said that. Everything was chill, me and Paige stayed friends and we helped each other reach our goals. It felt nice to have such a good friend by my side with all that I was going through.

Paige walked through the door and her bright blue eyes met mine. She had a couple tears of joy in her eyes ready to fall and once they did I was ready to gently wipe them away. I wrapped my arms around her torso while hers were lifting me up in the air. Wow she never did that before. A loud giggle left my mouth when i noticed that I was in the air now. The blondes arms had a tight grip on my waist, keeping me up with stability. When she finally let me down all she did was jump around the living room like a child. "Did you see me and Nika's blocks?" She yelled across the room while I stood in place with my hands on my hips. A very entertained look was on my face while I watched Paige leap through the living room. "Yes i did! I saw everything!" I rushed up to Paige to hold her in place and calm her down. Before I could pull her into another hug, our phones buzzed at the same time. Paige pulled hers out first and looked down at a text from KK asking if we were up for a party tonight. Without hesitation Paige grabbed onto my wrists and shook them around while begging for me to come with. "Are you serious Paige? We do this every time, i don't like parties...." Paige kept on whining while giving me puppy dog eyes. I guess this once wouldn't be bad.

WRONGGGG

So I gave in and went to my bathroom to get ready. Most of Paige's stuff was here already so she didn't bother going back to the teams house to get ready. I spent around 45 minutes getting ready. I don't know why. It's not like there would be anyone important there. It's just a party. Nothing more. I dragged the mascara wand against my eyelashes while blinking to dry them quicker. I took one last look in the mirror before going to my closet to pick out an outfit. My eyes were immediately drawn to a black tube top and some jean shorts. It was probably going to be cold outside so I grabbed a red zip up to cover my bare collarbones and shoulders. The only shoes I could find were my red converse which I was kind of lucky to have. I walked out of my walk-in closet to find Paige sitting on the edge of my bed, putting on a pair of shoes. The moment i stepped out, Paige's eyes were very obviously clinging to my body. She tried to hide the fact that she was staring hard at my top by complimenting me quickly. "Shit you look good! Everyone's gonna be on you..." Her words dragged on with very clear tones of jealousy. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a red button up flannel. Fuck me.

Once I had grabbed my purse and some lip balm, Paige held my hand while walking out the door and I locked it behind us. We walked over to Paige's car and the moment we got inside it was Drake on repeat. She sadly grabbed the aux before I could. The entire drive was filled with Paige's voice cracking every other lyric and me pretending to not know every line. The bar that the girls decided to be at seemed way nicer than the others. Of course I may have not been out either the girls a lot but the times that I was, most of the places they partied at were just a tad bit sketchy. Paige parked her car next to Aubrey's and stepped out of the car before brushing off her shirt by sliding her hands down her chest. She clearly wanted to look presentable. The second I heard Chase Atlantic playing on the speakers I couldn't resist from singing, almost screaming, to the lyrics. I waved to a couple of the girls who were sitting at a booth right ahead of me and Paige.

"What took ya'll so long?" KK said before shoving Paige's shoulder with a wide smile on her face. "This one did" Paige said gesturing behind her to me. "She must have someone to impress huh" Ice teased me while poking at my hip. I let out a forced laugh knowing that they were right. "Nuh uhhh. I just like doing my makeup to go out..." I lied quickly. Before anyone could make anymore remarks on how i cared about my appearance, Nika came around the corner with a plate of shots for everyone. I jumped up once she set down the cup and wrapped my arms around her back. "NIKA!" I squealed, clinging myself onto Nika's body. She leaned back a little, almost falling back from the intensity of my hug. "Woah! Heyyy!" Her arms settled around my waist, melting into my back. My eyes were shut against Nika's skin but when I opened them I saw Paige staring the both of us down with not an ounce of happiness on her face. I tried my best to not react but jesus it was hard. Is Paige Bueckers, my best friend, jealous that i'm hugging her teammate? Or am I just tweaking.

I stepped away from Nika and gave her a squeeze on her forearm before pulling Paige to the side and whispering to her. "You good? You looked pissed at me just right now." She did nothing but nod. Just a simple nod. She took a sip of her drink before going over to talk with Azzi. I looked around the building to see if there were any other girls scattered around the place but for the most part everyone seemed to be in the same place. I walked up to the table of our booth and took a shot before leaning my head on Paige's shoulder. Most people viewing from afar would think that we were dating but I swear we have no feelings for each other. Paige doesn't at least. I had been messing around with the short sleeve of Paige's flannel when I felt someone tap my shoulder. I spun around to find one of my old volleyball teammates staring at me. I didn't realize it was her until she gave me that 'bitch do you not know me' look. I gasped louder than ever before wrapping my arms around the girl. "Oh my God Liv?! What are you doing here?" I squealed while pulling myself out of the hug. "I transferred a couple months ago! I saw on your Instagram that you went here and decided to surprise you. Plus my boyfriend plays for the basketball team so..." I turned around to pull Paige over in Liv's direction to introduce the two girls. "Paige this is Liv!" I say, frantically tapping the blondes shoulder. "Remember we played volleyball together in high school?" Paige was silent but seemed chill. She just kept of nodding in agreement with the same enthusiasm I was giving her. "I'm gonna go catch up with her ok? Don't dance without me p!" I yelled out while walking across the bar to sit down with a couple of Liv's friends.

I ended up sitting between her and a brunette guy. I didn't want to rude, so I introduced myself to him before Liv could. "Hey I'm y/n." I held my hand out in front of the guy. He looked at me in the eye, making me notice that his eyes were even more blue than Paige's. Damn. He held onto my hand and shook it for what felt like longer than needed. He had a shy smile on his lips and did anything he could to not break eye contact with me. "I'm Carter." It felt like our hands were melting together before he pulled away to look at Liv. "Carter this is y/n!" Apparently me and Carter were quiet enough for people to not realize that we already knew each other by now. "Oh yeah she introduced herself already." He pointed his thumb to the side, motioning to me. A little time passed that was filled with mindless drunken conversations. My head had slowly fallen on Carter's shoulder and It took me by surprise when he didn't shove me off. So I pretended to sleep soundly when I was really listening in on whatever nonsense every what talking about now. I slowly tried to inch my arm through Carter's to loop our limbs together. This is when he knew that I wasn't asleep, he gently moved his arm away from his hip for me to fit my arms through before closing in on my arms. What the fuck am I doing. Now I tried my best to act tired when he tapped me "awake." I sat up and looked around while rubbing my eyes gently enough to not smudge any mascara. "I think I'm gonna head home now." Liv snapped her head to me and furrowed her eyebrows. "What why? We've only hung out for a little bit." She whined. "I don't know I'm just tired already." I groaned while standing up and grabbing my purse. I was about to leave when I felt Carter's strong hand hold onto mine while he lifted himself up. "Let me drive you home."

Me and Carter were halfway to exit when I remember that Paige was probably still waiting for me. Just as we were going to cross the booth that Paige and her team were at I changed my mind. "Actually Carter I'm sorry but I have a friend that goes home with me and I cant leave her alone." His expression changed immediately.

"I'm sure she'll be fine." He had his hand wrapped my wrist now.

"Seriously I would feel so shitty if I just left her." I laughed off what started to feel like fear.

"No. Come on stop being ridiculous, you need to get home." His hand started to tighten around my skin.

"Carter can you stop. Just let me go home with her." I started to try and shake my arm out of his grip.

"Y/n just fucking stop. Lets go." He tugged on my wrist, trying to lead me out the door. This was perfect timing for me to be in the girls' sight now.

"Shit! Carter let me go!" I stopped walking and stood still while trying to pry his hand off of my wrist.

Finally Paige looked up and saw what was going on. Not a single ounce of hesitation crossed her mind. She stood up and rushed over to me. "Hey man let her fucking go!" She stormed in Carter face while holding a hand around my waist, pulling me away from the brunette. Carter was startled away by the 5'11 girl that had just as much confidence and more than his own. I had a couple tear in my waterline but quickly got rid of them by blinking and wiping the wet streaks of of my face. "Woah back off, I'm just trying to take her home." Carter snapped at Paige. "No, fuck off." Paige turned around with me in her grasp and walked back over to the booth. Everyone but Caroline didn't even realize what just happened. "Fine, I wouldn't want to fuck a dyke anyway." Carter yelled back at both me and Paige. It took everything in me to not turn around and swing at Carter. So Paige did it for me. she threw a hard punch right at the brunettes nose, knocking him back against the floor. "Jesus Paige!" I wrapped my hands around both of her arms and pulled her away. Her adrenaline faded away in less than a second but I swear I could still see fume flowing out of her ears. She winced while rubbing her knuckle back and forth. "Lets go." Paige said coldly while look down at Carters now bloody face. I nodded silently before holding onto her hand and walking the two of us out the exit door. Surprisingly, Paige hand gotten even a little tipsy that night. As much as I didn't want to make her drive, I didn't want to get into a crash at 12 am so Paige drove me to my apartment and unlocked the door. "Paige no. come in." I refused to let her drop me off and deal with whatever anger was built up in her alone.

I practically dragged Paige out of the car and through my door. She seemed more drunk than I was right now. I walked her to my bathroom and tapped on the counter, gesturing for her to sit down on it. She lifted herself up and winced again after putting pressure of her wounded hand. Her legs were swinging back and forth while she fidgeted with her own thumbs and I grabbed a first-aid kit and some rubbing alcohol. Her legs were spread just enough for me to fit myself in-between. I rested against her thigh while holding her fist in my hand and gently swiping away the excess blood. "This is gonna hurt." Were the only words I let out from when she punched Carter to when we almost fell asleep. I dabbed a cotton ball soaked with rubbing alcohol on the very tip of her knuckle, causing Paige's head to tilt back while she swayed her feet a bit more aggressively. "Shit!" she whined a bit before I pulled the cotton ball away and threw it in the trash can. Now that her fist was clean I could've just left it like that. I could've cleaned up the mess, put everything away and go to sleep. But of course I had to raise her hand up to my lips and place a gentle kiss on her knuckle. A lingering smell and taste of rubbing alcohol transferred to my lips but I tried to hide that. When I looked up, Paige's eye were locked onto mine. I did everything in me to attempt to look away but before I could I felt Paige's soft lips pressed into mine. I quickly got more comfortable with the kiss and slowly moved my hands to wrap around Paige's waist. I tilted my head to the side to perfectly fit her nose in between my eye socket and my own nose. She pulled away gently to look at me and protest what just happened. "I'm sorry-"

"Shut the fuck up."

I moved my hand up to Paige jawline and continued to wrap my lips around hers. I could feel that she didn't want to pull away but felt like she had the need to. "Sit up." I whispered through kisses and that she did. Paige stood up and moved her hands around my back, slowly moving them closer to my ass. I led her to my room and shut the door behind me before pushing her against the bed. I unlatched our lips to speak one more time.

"How long have you wanted to do this?"

"Long fucking time."

"I know."

I let my tongue slip in between Paige's lips, tangling itself with her own. Her hands were now running a long my back under my shirt. I pulled away for one last second to take of my shoes and jacket before fully crawling on top of Paige's lap and placing kisses down her neck and collarbones. Soft whines escaped the blondes mouth as I move closer to the opening of her flannel. Without removing my lips from her skin, I unbuttoned the flannel to reveal just a black sports bra. I looked up at Paige, giving her a look that was waiting for approval to take off her bra. She nodded eagerly giving me the chance to take it off. I couldn't help but stare at her tits before moving my lips further down her chest now reach her stomach. I traced my lips against each toned ab that she had. I could feel her stomach flexing against my mouth once I reached her bikini line. Now I gently unzipped her jeans and slipped them down her legs before tossing them to the side. The only noise I heard were the desperate whines leaving Paige's mouth, getting louder the lower I moved my lips. I practically tore her boxers off.

This is what I needed.

[cloudmancy]

I have no desire to get you in trouble but I would be curious to hear your thoughts on the new episode and the preview because I also have.. thoughts and I'm interested in what other people clocked as not great or kinda.. idk. other people's concerns, because I have had a lot of them and I never see people really talk about those things

they're doing a new format this season where they film a bunch of rp episodes in a row then take a break when there's a battle so the crew can get the battleset ready, so I understand the dissonance. but the tone of this episode from the tone of last episode was SO jarring. I was ready to chew drywall at the end of episode 17 but we head into the episode 18 fight and at the end all I can say is... damn! that sure is a battle that happened. the entire fight felt really low-stakes even though objectively a few of the bad kids were in mortal danger, but the mood at the table was so relaxed and chill and there was almost no roleplay at all... which drove me so crazy

>no rp except for fun silly party stuff (no callbacks to the adaine elven oracle in a storm thing? after all the fun setup last time??)

>fought 8 different antagonists and none of them said a word

>nobody questioned why or what oisin's grandma or all those dragon were doing there they just started taking them out one by one like raid battles in world of warcraft

>cassandra/nightmare king showed up only to not make any impact or get a single word in

>dos2 lady vengeance fight did the floating boat/ballistas/dragon fight better SMH

and then after all of that we're headed straight into ANOTHER battle episode judging by the preview... and it's against the rat grinders and porter/jace! let me out I want PLOT & DIALOGUE fhjy cannot end like this (5 hours straight of battle where they just kill everyone that moves). there's 2 eps left so I really hope they do the last ep as a 4 hour long roleplay only epilogue episode because as we've all seen ending campaigns on a battle leads to frankly really rushed character and world decisions. it's ultra disappointing too because I loved this entire season so much so far. the setup and buildup and plot points and mystery of fhjy is the best they've ever done it in dimension 20 period

ep 18 fhjy battle was a letdown to me... not giving the party an rp episode after 3 hours of loredump + going straight into a final battle without being able to interact with the world after gaining info is bad. they should've had a chance to process everything they learned about house sunstone, porter's plan, the rat grinders being used as ascension fodder, whatever the whole deal behind ambrosia and lucy frostkettle and why they needed a helios cleric in buddy IN ROLEPLAY. I don't want all this stuff explained to me after the battle by brennan or in some throwaway lines in the adventuring party - I want the bad kids to talk to people! I want them to investigate! I want fig to pull some BS with porter knowing the full extent of all his plans. it really sucks for us as an audience too to be hit with all this lore and get approximately 0 time for it to sink into the implications of how the worldbuilding was shaped by it or realizations of "ohhh that's why that happened at the beginning of the season" before we go straight into killing everyone.

with the way this is going I don't have any confidence they're gonna be able to actually empathize at all with the rat grinders too before they start lopping heads off because in battle episodes everyone kind of just. becomes numbers and an objective to take out except for pet favourite npcs of the cast. and they've mostly been interacting with the rat grinders as nuisances all season 😭 I'm PRAYING to be proven wrong and the last 2 episodes of this are fantastic but it's not looking good folks

[hungryistrying]

santa, santa why do you hate me

summary:

So there he stood, severely out of breath with oil stains clinging to his shirt, sweat uncomfortably cooling his skin, and his socks soaked with melted snow. All that for a train that wasn’t riding anyway, for a Christmas party he didn’t really want to attend, and for one girl he’d been dying to see for months who would (allegedly) be there. If god gives his silliest battles to his funniest of clowns, then Ekko now considered himself the fucking court jester.

In which Ekko is down bad and Jinx doesn't really like Christmas parties.

rating: teen

word count: 7460

status: completed

crossposted to ao3

Tagalog Christmas music spills out from beneath the front door and onto the frosty pavement, where Ekko stands, waiting for someone to open up already. The music is so loud he can clearly make out the words even while outside (not that he understands any of it, all he knows is a few cusses Zeri uses so often even he's managed to pick them up).

The cheer of the holiday season affects even the deepest, grungiest levels of the undercity. Decorations linger outside nearly every row house on Zeri’s street, and fairy lights are strung up all over the lanes, the colors setting the snow-white streets aglow.

Even the weather must be in on the festivities, it started snowing three weeks ago and simply never stopped. This would be Ekko's first white Christmas in years. He might’ve appreciated the aesthetic, had he not been out in the snow for well over an hour by now. 

Man, he hates the cold.

Heaving a tired sigh – his breath fogging in front of his face from the chill – he impatiently knocks on the door again, hoping somebody will open up already.

Feeling more and more restless, he taps his foot to the music while he waits, trying (and probably failing) to stop scowling. All things considered though, Ekko thinks he’s pretty justified in the fact that he’s pissed and exhausted now that he's finally made it to Zeri's party.

Luck was not on his side trying to get here. Then again, it never is so what's new? It hadn't started off too bad. After all, Benzo is a good guy and had been fine with letting Ekko leave the store early for the evening.

-

"It's colder than a polar bear's toenail outside," Benzo explained, inspecting a newly pawned antique for its value. "If you don't leave early, you might miss your bus."

But well, the holiday season was busy, even for a hole-in-the-wall shop such as Benzo's, and Ekko was pretty much his only employee (unofficially at that, but as long as he got paid he wasn't complaining). He couldn't just leave the old man to run the shop by himself on one of the busiest days of the year. 

Plus, the money was good on Christmas Eve. Dumb Pilties always paid too much, but they were especially easy to overcharge when in a rush to buy a last-minute Christmas gift.

He checked his pocket watch for the time. Alright, he might not make it to Zeri's house on time by bus anymore, but he should’ve been faster if he took the train and then cut through the backstreets (and also much more likely to get stabbed with a shiv but fuck it, not the worst risk he’s taken).

But apparently, Santa just hated his guts. That's the only explanation for the series of unfortunate events that unfolded next.

The first incident was a rookie mistake. Ekko had been struggling to fix a broken pipe while simultaneously juggling a sudden rush of customers, so he'd tried to get the job done as quickly as possible to focus on all the incoming buyers. 

But he'd done the job too quickly, sloppily even. He'd only just finished twisting the final cog into place when the pipe sprang, sending oil flying all over him in the process. 

"Shit!" he'd cursed, frantically covering the burst pipe to keep the leak contained. It was about as effective as putting a bandaid on a gunshot wound.

"Ekko, what in the bloody hell happened?" Benzo demanded, stepping away from the cash register to assess the damage he'd done.

"My bad, Benzo." Ekko grimaced, reaching for all the paper towels he had on hand to cover the leak. "I'll have this fixed in no time, don't worry."

The old man sighed but nodded, "Alright, you just head out now after fixing this mess," before heading back to the counter to help the line of waiting customers.

Ekko eventually fixed the pipe and cleaned up the remaining mess. Too bad it had taken thirty more minutes than he had intended it to.

When he'd finally made it to the second floor of the shop, he looked down at himself with a grimace. His work overalls had saved his jeans from the damage, but his shirt had not been so lucky. Of course this had to fucking happen when he didn't have any more spare clothes left in the shop.

He looked down at his pocket watch again to calculate how much time he had left. The next train was coming in ten minutes, if he got there quickly he should be able to catch it.

"Alright, I'm out, Benzo," Ekko said, his attention caught between wrestling to properly zip up his jacket and not tripping down the stairs. "Merry Christmas!" he called over his shoulder as he exited the shop. 

He wasn’t even sure if Benzo had replied with how fast he was out of the door. Ekko raced his way down the street, grimacing when snow slipped into the gaps of his beat-up sneakers, but he refused to slow down in the slightest.

All this for a Christmas party he actually intended to skip…

Christmas parties weren’t really Ekko’s thing– not when this was the one night of the year his parents were guaranteed to have time off. But Zeri had been harassing him to go for weeks now. He had dodged every invitation until she sent him one damning text message that changed his mind.

⚡️ Z BTW I invited your girlfriend You Who? Oh 😐 Jinx is not my girlfriend stop playing ⚡️ Z LOLOL but you still knew who I meant~ Ayy will you show up or not We’re gonna do karaoke you have to be there! You Alright sheesh Now get off my case already ⚡️ Z HAHAHAHA I KNEW YOUD SAY YES See you then 😁

Ekko couldn’t even find it in him to deny what Zeri was implying, embarrassing as it was. Because, yeah, that was all it took for him to skip out on spending Christmas Eve with his parents for the first time in his life. But he hadn’t seen Jinx in months so sue him, alright?

By the time Ekko made it to the station his lungs felt like they were on fire, sweat uncomfortably clinging to his skin beneath his padded parka. It was then that this evening went from mildly unlucky to absolute shit.

All the trains had been canceled due to bad weather conditions. 

So there he stood, severely out of breath with oil stains clinging to his shirt, sweat uncomfortably cooling his skin, and his socks soaked with melted snow. All that for a train that wasn’t riding anyway, for a Christmas party he didn’t really want to attend, and for one girl he’d been dying to see for months who would (allegedly) be there.

If god gives his silliest battles to his funniest of clowns, then Ekko now considered himself the fucking court jester.

So that was that then, no more trains were riding for the evening and the next bus wouldn’t arrive for another forty-five minutes.

Ekko heaved a tired sigh and looked at the snow-coated streets ahead of him. It would take an hour to walk to Zeri's house from here, but it'd still be faster than getting there by bus (assuming the bus wouldn't face delays too).

He was about to make the long trek when he realized the road below the station had been cleared for safety. Ekko reached for his skateboard, pressed between his back and backpack. If he stuck to the side of the road, he probably wouldn’t get hit by a car. After all, there’s no way his luck was that bad.

Good news: His luck was indeed not that bad, seeing as he didn’t get hit by any cars.

Bad news: It was still pretty damn bad because one of the wheels broke off his skateboard and he fell face-first onto the sidewalk. At least the snow broke his fall.

With a groan, he stood up, plucking his injured pride and broken skateboard off the ground. Fine, he could take a cosmic hint. He’d just fucking walk there.

And so, Ekko had no choice but to trek all the way to Zeri’s house on foot. At least going through the city’s back alleys had cut his time down from an hour and three minutes to just forty-nine minutes. 

Plus, he didn’t get stabbed with a shiv this time, so that had to count for something.

-

The door swings open and Zeri stands before him, dressed appropriately for the season in what might possibly be the ugliest Christmas sweater he’s ever seen. The pine green monstrosity reads “I’m sexy and I snow it”, depicting a reindeer holding a blunt of all things. She’s even wearing a pair of fluffy antlers on her head to complete the look.

“Didn’t know this was an ugly sweater party,” he deadpans. He would laugh to show that he's just messing around, but unfortunately, he doesn’t quite have enough holiday cheer left for all that.

Her grin transforms into a scowl. “Yeah, Merry Christmas to you too, dude.” She greets him by smacking him across the back, much harder than necessary but he supposes that’s his own fault. “Honestly, I called you like five times! Thought you weren’t gonna show. ”

“Almost didn’t." He sighs, removing his gloves and shrugging off his backpack and coat before finding an empty hanger to leave them on, his broken skateboard leaned sadly against the wall. “Had to miss out on my ma’s Christmas roast this year to be here.”

“Aww man,” Zeri whines. “You should’ve gone anyway and shown up later with some leftovers for me.”

He rolls his eyes, sarcastically quipping, "My bad, you can always try leeching me for food next year."

"I'll hold you to that," she laughs, before pausing when she sees the state Ekko is in. She makes a face at his disheveled appearance. "Oi, what the hell happened to you? Did someone jump you?"

"Ironically enough, that's the one thing that hasn't happened to me today." He takes off his shoes with a grimace, his socks still soaked. "It's a long story. You happen to have anything I can borrow?”

Zeri sighs, patting his shoulder and gesturing for him to follow her up the staircase. “Come on then, I’m sure tatay has some clothes lying around that’ll fit you.”

After handing Ekko a sweater and a pair of clean socks, she leaves him to get changed in the bathroom. “Just come downstairs when you’re ready.”

Ekko doesn't hesitate to change his socks first, breathing a sigh of relief now that his feet are finally free from their gross, soggy prison. He then takes advantage of the hairdryer hanging on the wall to dry the insides of his poor sneakers. 

When he finally gets a good look at the sweater Zeri's picked from, he can't help but cringe. The damn thing is bright red: a Rudolph sweater complete with a fluffy red nose sewn onto it. Tacky as hell, but at least now he knows it runs in the family.

Oh well, beggars can’t be choosers. He pulls his shirt over his head, tugging on the ugly (and itchy, great) sweater instead.

When he finally makes his way back downstairs, embarrassing Christmas sweater and all, he barely has time to set aside his shoes and stuff his things into his backpack, before he’s startled by an excited scream.

“Ekko!” He whips his head back to see Kay jogging over to him, excitedly waving her hands as if he would somehow miss her. It's harder not to notice Kay wherever she goes, she’s a walking ball of energy. “Finally made it, did ya? Shomi and I have been waiting for an hour already!”

“Good to see you, Kay.” He chuckles, allowing his friend to drag him further into the living room. Ekko blindly follows her, letting his eyes wander over the room.

The house is decked out with a dizzying array of ornaments. Reds, greens, and golds practically envelop the open kitchen and living room. And man, Zeri invited a lot of people. The living room and kitchen are packed with folks from all over their neighborhood, merrily chatting over the Christmas music playing in the background.

The one person Ekko is actually hoping to spot, however, doesn't seem to be among them. 

He tries to mask his disappointment, but he must not be very successful since Shomi just raises a curious brow upon his approach and says, “What? Not happy to see us?”

“Of course I am,” he assures, extending his hand to dap them up. “Merry Christmas, Shomi.”

“I'd say it back, but something tells me it hasn't been very merry for you.” They squint at Ekko, before continuing, “Let me guess, you broke your board again?”

“...Maybe.”

“I knew it.” Shomi sighs. “Dude, you have got to start treating your board with more love.”

“What? I treat my board with plenty of love!” Ekko insists, affronted. “It's not my fault shit just happens to me.”

“Alright, we get it,” Kay interjects. “Your life is like a Looney Tunes episode and there’s nothing you can do about it. Onto more important matters, let me tell you guys about this awesome project I started working on!”

Ekko fondly rolls his eyes as Kay goes on her tangent. The trip to this party might've been awful, but maybe it's not all bad if he gets to see all his friends in one place again. 

Between college classes and part-time work, it's becoming harder and harder for them all to spend time together like they used to. Their high school days are officially behind them, and with them, so are the days when they see each other constantly, just to hang out some more after school.

His heart twinges as he thinks about one particular person who that rings true for. 

Then, like Santa has decided to bless him with one Christmas miracle in exchange for his suffering, he sees something from the corner of his eye. Something blue.

Ekko doesn't think he's ever turned his head so fast, his breath catching in his throat when he realizes that it’s not just a trick of the light. He’s really seeing Jinx. 

She's buried herself as far back in the kitchen as she can, sitting slumped behind one of the counters with her eyes cast downward to the cup in her hands, playing with her straw. 

Whenever someone gets in her vicinity, her head sharply snaps up, staring the person down until they back away, before she returns her attention to that cup. Ekko can't help but chuckle under his breath at the sight.

He doesn't know how long he's been staring, but it must’ve been too long since he nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels an arm – Zeri's, who he hadn't even noticed approaching – slinging over his shoulder.

“Ekko, pare,” Zeri sighs, nodding her head towards Jinx, “you ever gonna make a move, or will you just keep being a chicken about it?”

“Oh, give him a break,” Kay speaks up before he can even retort. “You know those two having to be apart for months is basically ignoring a ‘Do Not Separate’ warning. Like you and Seraphine!”

Zeri laughs along to Kay's words before she bristles at the last sentence. “What?! I don't even like Seraphine!”

“Oh,” Shomi starts, raising a skeptical eyebrow, “is that why you kept whining in the group chat when she said she couldn't come to this party?”

“I…I invited her to be polite, okay! If anything, I'm glad she picked her stupid recital over my party.”

Ekko has to clench his jaw to stifle the laughter that threatens to burst from him at the incredulous looks Kay and Shomi exchange at Zeri's paper-thin defense.

It's not enough to spare him from Zeri's wrath, however, since she spins her head in Ekko's direction anyway and demands, “What? You got something to say too?”

He holds his hands up in defense. “Hey, I'm staying out of this.” Unfortunately, his voice shakes in amusement, which isn't helping him sell his case.

Realizing it's three-against-one, Zeri switches tactics and starts pushing Ekko toward the kitchen– Shit, towards Jinx, he realizes.

“Doesn’t matter, I'm sick of having to deal with you being all sad and mopey so just go talk to her!” He nearly trips over his feet as he gets pushed deeper into the kitchen.

He freezes. Fuck, what should he even say? They haven't seen each other since graduation– When Jinx told him she was moving away to be with Vi again. Months have passed since and Ekko still hasn't been able to stop thinking about the look on her face when she told him.

That carefully neutral expression, like she has to hide and pretend to be something else in front of him of all people; the far-away look in her eyes as she told him in an eerily calm voice, her face momentarily shuttering when he questioned “To Piltover ?” before she slid that mask back on.

He couldn't understand. Ekko and Jinx made fun of topside together; they didn't make plans to start living there.

But he did understand how much Vi meant to Jinx (hell, Vi meant a lot to him too) and he could see how she started picking at the skin of her nails; how she refused to even look him in the eye from where they sat beside each other– tucked close together behind the bleachers, hidden away from the rest of the world.

So he hid his own apprehension for her sake and forced a smile on his face as he covered her hand with his and said, “I'm happy for you.”

She gripped his hand back. Tight. Then relaxed her grip when she finally looked at him, her eyes wide and nervous. “We'll…still meet up, alright?” Her voice strained as she joked, “You're not getting rid of me that easy, mister.”

How Ekko wishes that had been true. He tried not to hold it against her, tried not to overthink and wonder whether or not she did it on purpose. But resentment still ended up growing somewhere low in the pit of his stomach.

They texted, they called, they made plans that they ended up canceling– sometimes Jinx, sometimes Ekko, but mostly Jinx.

And now he’s here, attending the same Christmas party as her– Because of her. And though he really shouldn't be, because they're still best friends at the end of it all, he's nervous as hell.

He forces his legs to move, getting closer and closer to her. She doesn’t seem to notice, her gaze having trailed off into the distance. He follows it and realizes she's looking at…a mistletoe?

Ekko frowns. He hadn't even noticed there was one until now. It inconspicuously hangs near a window far back in the living room, yet Jinx is glaring daggers at it, as if the plant had spit in her face and set her house on fire.

Well, that seems as good of a conversation starter as any. He takes a deep breath, trying his best to keep his voice light and amused as he asks, “Are you gonna beat the shit out of that mistletoe?”

She flinches, wide-eyed as she whips her head around to look up at him. “Ekko?”

She shoots to her feet, and before Ekko realizes what's happening, she's closed the space between them, her arms wrapped around his middle and her head resting on his shoulder.

Hugging her back isn't so much a decision as it is instinct, his arms wrapping around her before he can think twice about it. Her cheek feels startlingly cold pressed against the exposed skin of his neck. The shock of it must be why his heart skips a beat and he ends up shivering. 

He buries his head in the crook of her neck, breathing her in. She smells like lavender shampoo and grease oil, the combination strange, but so uniquely Jinx that it makes Ekko's heart squeeze in his chest.

Then, just as suddenly as she hugged him, she pulls away. Ekko blinks, struggling to reorient himself now that she’s no longer in his space. It’s stupid really, he's gone five months without her in his space, but just like that, he’d gone and forgotten already.

“Sheesh, you scared me,” she awkwardly laughs, picking her cup off the floor and putting it on the counter. She’s staring at that cup again, shutting him out the way she would anyone else. Ekko tries to ignore the twinge of hurt he feels at that.

“So,” she suddenly starts, hand jutting forward to flick at the Rudolph nose on his sweater, “what brings you here anyway?”

You did, he thinks. And she's finally looking at him again, smiling even, but something about it feels off– restrained compared to her usual unapologetic grins, or those softer smiles that slip out when she lets her guard down.

“Zeri invited me. Thought it'd be nice to see all my friends in one place again.” He shrugs, leaning against the counter with feigned indifference. “...What about you?”

She props her head up with her hands, eyes wandering over the living room before she responds, “This beats the stupid party Vi and her Piltie girl are throwing.”

Suddenly, she rolls her eyes and groans. Confused, Ekko looks over his shoulder to see the cause– And nearly groans himself when he catches Zeri whip her head around, pretending to be fascinated by the baubles in the Christmas tree.

“Well, it barely beats a stinkin’ Piltie party,” she continues.

He laughs. “That bad?”

“Please, Caitlyn is just…peak Piltie! The most condescending, stuck-up bitch I've ever met!” She spins to him, irritation pinching her face. “But then, every time I call her out on it, Vi goes all ‘You know she doesn't mean it like that, Pow’ or ‘Just try and get along for me, please’ and then I end up being the bad guy. Un-fucking-believable.”

She lets out a deep sigh, her anger seeming to drain from her with it, leaving only weariness in its wake. “I am trying...” She's picking at her cuticles. Ekko's not even sure she realizes. “It's the only reason I’m living topside and going to a stupid Piltie college.”

He covers her hand with his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I know you are.”

The touch is meant to be comforting, but somehow the contact is electric. Their eyes meet again, and Ekko pulls away as if burned. At the same time, Jinx opens her mouth as if to speak, and he immediately regrets pulling away when she never does.

The silence that follows feels damning, impossible to break. Ekko hates it. Silences between him and Jinx are supposed to feel comfortable, not…awkward. When did things get awkward between them?

Jinx's attention is starting to wander, eyes darting around the room as she starts fiddling with that damn straw again. But Ekko didn't get this far after not seeing her for nearly half a year, just to fumble here.

His mind scrambles, searching for anything to latch onto to revive the conversation when he remembers “So what's with you and that mistletoe?”

For a moment, Jinx looks confused, as if she doesn’t know what he means. Then recognition lights her face before she scoffs and says, “Nothing. Zeri was just being annoying.”

“About a mistletoe?” Ekko frowns, puzzled but curious to learn how Zeri managed to get on her nerves this time.

Jinx doesn’t answer for a moment. And she looks like she’s…blushing? Unless it’s just a trick of the light. The red-green lights strung up around the house are making it hard to tell. Either way, now he’s very curious to know what Zeri did.

“...It doesn't matter, okay?” she eventually grumbles. “This party sucks anyway.”

It’s clear she’s done talking about this, so rather than push his luck, Ekko shrugs and attempts to lighten the mood. “At least there's karaoke.”

It doesn’t seem to be very effective. Jinx still looks like a grumpy, wet cat. “Hm, you don't say.” Then her eyes light up, the way they tend to when she has a mad idea. She turns to him with a mischievous grin. “And you're singing too?”

Ekko has a bad feeling about this, but nonetheless, he cautiously confirms “Yes?”

“Wanna do me a favor, boy savior?” He curiously hums so she'll continue. “Buy me some time by picking the longest song you can find.”

He gives her an unimpressed look, even though she’s clearly piqued his interest and they both know it. “Do I want to know what you’re planning?”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head over it, ‘kay?” She flicks the red nose on his sweater again, like she can’t help herself. “Just open the door for me when I drop you a text, I gotta run an errand real quick. Be back in fifteen minutes, give or take.”

Before he can so much as answer, she rushes off to the front door. She already has her coat on when she pauses, sprints back to him, and asks, “By the way – completely unrelated to this errand – the breaker box thingy is in the same spot as in your house, right?”

He squints, considering for a moment. “...For the sake of staying out of this, I’m not answering that question.”

She grins and snaps her fingers anyway. “I’ll take that as a yes, thank you very much! See you in a bit.” With that, she goes back to pulling on her boots and then she’s out the door.

Around thirty minutes later (not that Ekko’s surprised, Jinx has always had terrible time management skills) he gets a text from Jinx, asking him to open the door for her. He slips away as subtly as he can – which isn't much of a challenge since Kay and Shomi are too engrossed talking about potential board mods to notice his absence – to open the door for her.

She quickly scurries inside, her face is flushed from the cold but it doesn't seem to affect her mood at all. Jinx is grinning from ear to ear…and hiding her hands behind her back rather suspiciously.

As if on queue, Zeri’s voice rings from the living room, making them both whip their head in her direction. “Alright, who’s singing next?!” she shouts, while everyone encouragingly cheers on the person who just finished performing.

Jinx turns back to him with a conspiratorial grin. “So, wanna do me that favor?”

Ekko pretends to contemplate it for a moment, just to watch her squirm a little, before he sighs and answers, “I’m still staying out of this narrative, though.”

“Whatever you say, buster!” She ungracefully kicks off her boots, before shooting him a smile that makes his stomach do a funny flip. “But thanks, I owe ya one.”

Ekko shuffles over to the living room while Jinx runs off to do….whatever she’s planning to do. He taps Zeri on the shoulder, gesturing for the karaoke mic in her hand. “Mind if I give it a go?”

“Finally!” Zeri cheers, blissfully unaware that she’s talking to Jinx’s partner in (probable) crime. She leans away from the mic, and asks under her breath, “So you finally make a move or what?”

He just scowls at her. Ekko has a stinging suspicion he might know how Zeri annoyed Jinx after all. “Just give me the damn mic.”

She holds her hands up in defense but concedes and backs away after handing him the karaoke microphone. 

Ekko scrolls down Zeri’s catalog of karaoke songs, keeping Jinx's words in mind as he does. All the songs range from two to four minutes until he spots the one: Some ten-minute rendition of a Taylor Swift song.

…He can already feel the headache forming. Jinx better make this worth his time ‘cause he's about to belt it out to White Girl McGee music just for her. Ekko doesn't even understand why Zeri of all people would put that song in here, but if he had to guess, he'd assume this was Seraphine's doing somehow.

He’s about halfway through the song – struggling to match the rhythm of the lyrics since he’s only ever heard this song involuntarily through pop radio stations – when he sees Jinx appear in the living room out of the corner of his eye, her coat still on.

She’s biting her lip, clearly trying not to laugh at him. Zeri and Shomi have long given up, the latter having pulled out their cell phone to film Ekko, no doubt to make fun of him until he’s in his grave. Ekko ignores them all and just focuses on performing the song as best he can.

…Just because he doesn’t like the song doesn’t mean he’s about to fumble his performance, okay?

The music comes to an abrupt halt when the power goes out and darkness falls over the room. No one reacts for a moment, and then quiet, confused murmurs fill the room. 

Until a strange rippling sound suddenly cuts through it.

Someone turns on their phone flashlight, pointing it around the room to try and locate the strange sound. Ekko frowns – needing a moment to put down the microphone in the dark – before he turns his head to the source of the noise, now revealed by the flashlight.

There’s a living toad strung to the ceiling with a toy missile tied to its back.

Everyone just stares, flabbergasted.

Then the damn thing ribbits again and panic ensues, screams erupting all around the room.

Before Ekko can even react, he feels something– no, someone tug on his arm in the darkness. He turns his head to see Jinx shushing him and pulling away from all the noise – while Zeri frantically tries to prevent one of her aunties from trying to bat the poor toad with a broomstick.

“Where did you–” he starts as quietly as he can, before Jinx interrupts him by tossing his shoes at him.

“Not now, space boy,” she hisses, opening the front door once he’s finished lacing up his sneakers. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Ekko races to zip up his parka and pull on his gloves against the stinging cold. He barely has time to grab his backpack before Jinx pulls him along by his hand and drags him out of the house.

He nearly trips over his own feet, before he catches himself and runs with her. Ekko’s not even sure why they’re running, but when she looks at him over her shoulder – face flushed and eyes shining brighter than any Christmas light in the world, with that stupid, shit-eating grin that makes him a little too weak-kneed for his own good – he finds he doesn’t really care anyway.

They finally slow to a stop when they’re six blocks away from Zeri’s street. Ekko’s lungs feel like they’re on fire and the laughter that bursts from him isn’t helping matters at all. It’s just that, when he stops to think about it, everything about this situation is so stupid and so…Jinx.

“A–” he gasps for air, finally coming down from his amusement long enough to string a sentence together. “A fucking frog?”

“A toad, actually. A missile toad, I’ll have you know,” she says matter-of-factly, still grinning much too proudly for such a cheesy prank.

Ekko has so many questions, but knowing Jinx, she won’t answer any of them. Still, he has to ask “How did you even have time to turn off the power while hanging that thing up?”

“A magician never reveals her secrets!” she predictably answers, before pausing and adding, “Also I slipped a kid ten dollars so they’d do it for me on queue.”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re so ridiculous.”

“Yeah, ridiculously funny,” she corrects, playfully glaring at him.

“Yeah right.” He scoffs but there’s no heat behind it, instead, he’s smiling so wide that his cheeks are beginning to hurt. It’s been so long since he’s seen her, that he almost forgot that being around her makes him feel like this.

He squeezes her hand in his. The action is instinctual, a habit more than anything– he’s always reaching for her in some way, and so is she.

Except for this time, apparently, because she pulls her hand away as if burned and doesn’t look in his direction as she mutters, “We, uh, should keep walking…There’s some stupid Christmas market by the bridge we can check out.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sure.” Ekko tries to swallow his disappointment, but it’s not working, so he just keeps his eyes trained on the ground, watching their footsteps in the snow as he walks alongside Jinx. 

The silence that falls over them feels as daunting as the physical space between them, but he doesn’t feel inclined to break it this time. How can they feel so far apart even when they’re walking right beside each other?

With his head downturned, it takes Ekko a moment to notice that Jinx has stopped walking, but eventually, he realizes her footsteps stop appearing beside his. 

He blinks and turns around to see her standing frozen on the spot, hands tugging at the hem of her leather bomber as she frowns at him. He raises a curious eyebrow at the sight and is about to question what she’s doing when she finally speaks up.

“Alright,” she starts, marching to stand before him and crossing her arms, “what’s with your hot and cold attitude the whole evening?”

I could ask you the same thing, he thinks, instead he just frowns. “My what?”

“You heard me!” She scowls. “One moment you're happy to see me and then you're all mister Grumpy Pants. What gives?”

“Jinx.” He lets out a frustrated sigh and turns to look at her. She squirms under his gaze, and that just makes Ekko feel worse, but he’s tired of bottling this up. “Are we seriously just gonna pretend we both don't know exactly why that is?”

“I..” she trails off, worrying her lower lip between her teeth, “I'm not really sure?”

“Really?” Ekko asks, exasperated. “Were you not sure every time you blew me off either?”

“Wha– You blew me off too!” she argues.

“That's different! I actually couldn't go when I canceled.”

She scoffs. “And you think I didn't?!”

She looks so affronted that it shuts Ekko up, leaving him scratching the back of his head in frustration. He’s such an idiot, always letting his temper get the best of him. Now he’s gone and ruined things and doesn’t know what to say to fix this. Nothing makes him more uneasy than a problem he can’t solve.

It seems Jinx doesn't know what to say either, she just stares down at the ground, toeing shapes in the snow with the tip of her boot.

“I just…” she trails off with a sigh. “I don’t know.”

“Yeah,” he rasps, “me neither, I guess.”

“...Hey, do you–” She tentatively looks up at him. “Do you want to have a snowball fight?”

He blinks. Then he barks out a laugh, utterly taken aback by her suggestion. “A snowball fight?”

“Yeah…Yeah, why not?” Jinx looks a little more self-assured now, grabbing his arm and dragging him to a corner of the street where the snow is piled high, having remained untouched by passersby. “Come on, it’ll be fun!”

Something eases in his chest at her childlike giddiness, and he can’t help but huff an amused breath as he teases, “What? You gonna start crying again if I toss one at your head?”

She scowls at him again, but there’s no heat behind it this time. “Nope, definitely gonna laugh when you slip and fall on your ass again though.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening.” 

He rushes to kneel down and scoop up a wad of snow after he sees Jinx do the same. She’s disgustingly fast, Ekko’s barely formed a ball by the time she’s already tossing one at his head, forcing him to dodge.

“We’ll see about that, mister!”

“Oh, it’s on!”

For a moment, it’s like they’re little kids again, sneaking out when Vander isn’t paying attention to play in the snow together. All their hurt and complications melt away just like the flecks of fallen snow on his face. Ekko wishes he could stop time so he could just enjoy this moment forever. Or that he could bottle up this happiness and keep it in his pocket for the rest of his life. 

However, as it has all evening, the weather cares little for his plight. Cold and unforgiving, the snow keeps falling on them, until eventually, the chill is too biting for them to goof around any longer.

They’re giggling like children when they fall into step beside each other again, their arms brushing against each other with every step. Ekko feels so warm and giddy, he finds he doesn’t care all that much about the cold anymore.

From the corner of his eye, he catches Jinx cupping her hands close to her face, blowing air on them.

Ekko curiously frowns. “You don’t have gloves?”

“No,” she rubs the palms of her hands together in an attempt to warm them up, “I just did my nails. Wasn't about to ruin them with some stinky gloves.”

Ekko rolls his eyes, setting a hand on her shoulder to stop her in her tracks. “Here,” he removes one of his gloves, reaching for her hand so he can carefully slide it on, “you have tiny ass hands anyway, so these won’t ruin your precious manicure.”

She scoffs, “My hands are not tiny! Yours are just stupidly big.” He shakes his head with a chuckle at her ridiculous argument. “...But thanks," she finishes, bumping her shoulder against his own.

As they begin to walk again, he can’t help but glance down at their ungloved hands. And then he’s nervous all over again. Because Ekko honestly isn’t sure if his heart can take another hit, should she pull away from his touch again.

He hesitates for another moment, before deciding to bite the bullet anyway. Tentatively, Ekko reaches for her hand with his own now-ungloved hand, pulling both into his pocket.

When Jinx whips her head in his direction, his eyes flicker in her direction, but at her wide-eyed, confused expression, he quickly finds himself glancing away again.

He clears his throat and fights to remain straight-faced despite the building awkwardness, as he explains, “Just so our hands don’t get cold, you know?”

“Oh.” From the corner of his eye, he sees her sharply nod. “Right…That makes sense.”

Despite Ekko’s concerns – and both their refusal to look each other in the eye – neither of them let go. Her hand feels ice-cold in his but that only spurs him to hold her hand tighter, trying to give her as much of his warmth as he can. 

It’s all he focuses on, even when they finally approach the bridge separating Zaun from Piltover. Just as Jinx said, a Christmas market is in full swing on the bridge. Stalls selling trinkets and treats are set up across the entire length of it. 

But none of the ornaments and decorations are as pretty as Jinx’s smile as she curiously peers at them all; and no hot beverage could ever warm him the way her hand in his does, her fingers intertwined with his.

When Jinx finally tires of window-shopping (he honestly wasn’t paying attention, watching her was much more fascinating) he offers to buy them hot chocolate, while she goes to find them a seat ⁠— an empty bench beneath an overhang.

“Thanks,” she says, as he hands her the carton cup. 

She tries to play it off, but Ekko can see the way she lights up with delight upon spotting the large dollop of whipped cream he requested the vendor put in her drink. 

With an amused huff, he shrugs off his backpack and sets it down on the edge of the bench, before sitting down beside her. The bench is frigid beneath them, it urges him to slide closer to Jinx, just ever-so-slightly. 

But it’s enough to press their thighs together, and Ekko needs a moment so he can focus on the heat radiating from the cup in his hands rather than that point of contact.

The hustle and bustle of the marketplace has started to die down as time drags on. Ekko feels restless as he watches everyone go their separate ways⁠ —  families heading home with giggling children in tow, teenagers conspiring where they should go next, vendors working together to close up and disassemble their stands ⁠—  while the snow continues to fall from the sky like powdered sugar, further blanketing the white streets.

“Jinx, I, uh,” Ekko starts, setting his untouched hot chocolate aside, “I just wanna say I’m sorry. You know, for what I said earlier.”

“Oh.” At the sound of her voice, he glances at her. She’s smiling at him, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Were you still worrying about that?”

He attempts to laugh, but a humorless sigh is all he manages. “I’m trying to be serious here, you know.”

“I know.” The pad of her thumb idly traces the rim of her empty cup. “It’s just…You were kinda right–” She winces and stammers, “I mean– Shit– No, you weren’t right. I wasn’t ditching you on purpose, it was more like…”

“Like you just…gave up?” he fills in when she never continues.

She frowns, eyes flickering up to look at him. Ekko doesn’t think he could look away even if he tried. “Yeah. I guess I did.”

“Me too,” he confesses. “I think I let my frustration get to me, when really…I just missed you.”

She takes a sharp breath and Ekko’s eyes are drawn to the parting of her lips like a moth to a flame. He moves in closer, just ever-so-slightly, then Jinx suddenly looks away, startling him.

“Oh– Hold on, I just gotta…” She starts rummaging through her pockets, the sudden, frantic movement breaking whatever spell he’d been under. “There!” She triumphantly pulls out–

“A mistletoe?” he questions dumb-founded, eyeing the plant that Jinx apparently just had on her person the entire time.

“Well, yeah. Would be a waste to just throw it away.” She twirls the stem between her fingers, raising her arm so it hangs between them. Ekko thinks his heart might actually beat out of his chest. “I…don’t have to explain what this is, right?”

He can barely hear what she’s saying anymore, focusing on her mouth again; on the curve of her cupid’s bow, which he’s a little too familiar with; on her teeth, with that cute little gap, which traps the slight pout of her lower lip.

He swallows, his voice barely audible as he asks, “Are you sure?”

“Ekko?” His eyes flicker back up to hers, now crinkled in amusement, but there’s something softer there too ⁠—  something that puts him at ease. “Just kiss me already.”

And that’s really all he needed to hear. He slowly leans in, waiting to see if she’ll change her mind, instead, she closes her eyes and meets him halfway.

The first press of her mouth is chaste, soft. Then she pulls away, but only for a moment, before she angles her head to lean in for another kiss.

She tastes sweet ⁠— like chocolate and cream and that plum lip balm she always wears ⁠— and Ekko finds himself desperate for more, feelings he’s held back for so long spilling out from him and into the kiss. He raises his hand to cup her cheek, her skin soft and cold beneath his palm, and gently tilts her head so he can deepen the kiss.

Then she suddenly pulls back from him, their lips parting with a wet smack. “Oh! Don’t tell Zeri about this. She’d never let me hear the end of it.”

Ekko blinks for a moment, processing her words, then he just groans, “Jinx, I could not give two fucks about Zeri right now.”

His words startle a bewildered laugh from her, and Ekko smothers the sound with his mouth when he leans back in to kiss her again, and again, and again.

She’s still smiling into the kiss as she wraps her arms around his neck, and Ekko’s pretty sure she just dropped the mistletoe on his head. He finds himself smiling back, and then they’re simply reduced to giggling like school kids while stealing kisses from one another.

[midnight-mourning]

Better Strangers. (Unless?)

Well it took a bit more time than I expected, wonder why THAT is (side eyes the wizard that put a curse on me, currently tied up in the corner) but it's here now, so I hope you enjoy! She's long, and I had to cut some stuff because it wasn't working, but such is life

If you've never read Confused Spirit, this will make a lot less since to you lol, so I recommend reading it first (though it's not a requirement). Again, this bad boy is canon to the story, but will never be directly mentioned in it

Word count: 7500

Song rec: Tommy's Party - Peach Pit (ignore the lyrics, it's the vibes that matter here)

Also posted on Ao3 if you prefer reading that way.

Content warning: Mentions of self-depreciation, self-gaslighting, depression, bits of yelling, etc. Small bits of using alcohol as a coping mechanism. Additionally, if you've never experienced what it's like to be anxious-drunk, you're in for it. Reader discretion is advised

☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙

"Okay, money's on the counter, Lisa needs to do her math homework before cartoons, and if you could do some flashcard practice with Gabe that would be super great but no worries if not, okay bye!" You say in a rush before opening and closing the front door. 

You lean back against it briefly, take a deep breath, and force yourself to march over to your car. 

It's your least favorite day of the quarter, second only to your least favorite day of the semester.

Parent-Teacher Conferences.

Comparable to Report-Review day at work, or tax season. The reason it was your second least favorite was because the other Parent-Teacher Conference day usually landed on a Friday, meaning you had one more night of the week you had to go out. 

This one was just a bit more bearable in that yeah, you had work afterward, but at least you could use all of tomorrow evening to recharge. And you certainly intended to. 

The school parking lot is filled with parents coming and going, chatting with those they know. You briefly greet anyone who says hello, but keep on your way, you want this to be quick, you've only got an hour or so before your late shift.

The meeting goes about how you'd expect, Lisa's the perfect little angel at school, it's just with you that she's a complete and utter menace. You'd considered the evening to likely being end on a high note based on this, but you'd be wrong. 

Very wrong. 

It's as you're walking out that you run into what would be your catalyst. 

"Oh, funny seeing you here, dear!" Helen says as she approaches. 

Inside you're saying every swear you can think of, outwardly you smile, "Hi Helen. It's parent-teacher night, of course I'd be here."

"I know, I know, merely joking." 

You stand there, awkward, head nodding once, "Well if that's all then I'll be on my way then-"

"Well it's just, how do I put this," She tutters, shaking her head, "I can't imagine what your meeting must've been like. And I won't speculate of course, I just want you to know that I'm thinking of you, is all."

Your brows furrow briefly, but you try to remain neutral. Chill, you're chill. You can kick Helen's ass in a fight if you wanted, it's fine. 

"The meeting went well, actually. Lisa's a good kid, I only stopped by because Mrs. Isley's been wanting brag on her in person."

This doesn't deter Helen, which you'd been, actually you can never tell what to expect with her. Doesn't matter, she keeps that sad look on her face, hand coming to rest on your shoulder, "Well, I wasn't sure if she was aware of the tumultuous situation with your family is all. It sounds like something that would greatly be affecting Lisa's performance. But I'm so glad to hear that's not the case."

"What, what do you mean?"

"Well, I ran into your aunt, Hannah's her name, right?" Helen tsks, "She told me all about your situation. Just awful to listen to, you know."

It occurs to you to glance over to where Helen came from, her typical group of parents she gossiped with. They're looking at you now, that same, bullshit look on their face. And you can just catch some of the things they say. 

"To think someone like that's taking care of Lisa."

"I know, could you imagine, being so cruel to your family?"

"Typical twenty something, has no regard for anyone but themself."

"It is selfish, isn't it? Their parents would be ashamed."

You freeze then, something in you shutting down. You don't know what to say, how to react, how to even, think, for a moment. 

This is possibly one of the worst case scenarios you could ever imagine. Helen knows an exceeding amount of information about you that you've done your best to hide for the sake of your siblings. Stuff that would otherwise be harmless, where you work, where Lisa goes to school, what daycare you use, etc. But could be incredibly dangerous when the wrong person find out about it. And at this point, you have no idea one way or the other if they have. 

Has Rick's family tried shit in the past? Of course. Have they ever taken it that far? Debatable. You'd done your best to keep your personal life unknown to them for a reason however. But did you really know what their limits were? You had absolutely no clue.

And that terrifies you.

And it's your fault in the first place.

"Are you alright?" Helen asks, in a tone that is so fake you swear you can taste plastic. 

You snap out of it. Not here, not now. Instead, you beam, "Of course! Why wouldn't I be?"

This throws her for a loop finally, "I, well I-"

"I appreciate all the concern, Helen, really, I do. But we're doing just fine," Your hand pats the one of your shoulder and she flinches back. Ironic, you know. 

You laugh, it's loud and fake as hell but it does what you need it to, "I don't know what you've been told, but let me assure you, there's a reason we're not on great terms. Didn't file that police report for nothing!"

At this, people start to turn towards you both, muttering quietly. Usually, such a thing would embarrass you. But you're channeling your rage to smother your panic. Your shame.

Hannah and the rest of Rick's family lives on the complete other side of the city. Helen would have had to go out of her way to manage to run into any one of them. And it sounds like she had. 

If you had to guess, it was probably incidental, you have no social media, they all do. All it would take is a bit of profile browsing to find the connection and if she ever came across any of them, could easily strike up a conversation. Still crazy, but slightly less crazy than other options.

"Is everything okay over here?" Looking to your side you see Mrs. Isley, glare on her face, pointed toward Helen, before sharing a concerned look briefly with you. 

You nod, "We're just fine, but I do have to get going now. Thanks for the, words of encouragement, Helen."

Her face has grown red, and can't even muster a response. Satisfied, you lean in as you pass her by, voice low, but still loud enough for the teacher behind you to overhear, "Hope you got what you wanted from that. Because next time, I won't be so nice and just say outright how the PTA president goes out of her way to find someone's toxic family members and delve into their personal life for no damn good reason."

You give her a rough pat on the back, and march out of there. Behind you, you can hear Mrs. Isley start to lay into the soccer mom who had so much free time on her hands to try and upset the 23 year old who, apparently, must be doing a better job at parenting than she was, as that what the only explanation you could come up with for her vendetta against you.

Once you make it out of the building is when you allow the facade to start to break down. You're panicked, you're freaking out. You're trying to determine if you're going to have to switch school districts now or what. You really don't want to uproot Lisa because of a mistake you made, which was believing that Helen Chase would mind her own damn business and-

Someone is calling after you. You look up from unlocking your car to see it's Mrs. Isley. 

You raise a hand as she makes it over to you, out of breath, "It's fine, Aubrey. Just the typical bs. I'm okay."

"I'm sure you are," She says, pointing back to the school and shaking her head, "But that, was unacceptable behavior on her part and I am not going to let it fly by, rest assured. She's the head of the PTA, she's well aware of the school's 'no-contact list'."

"I-"

She raises her hand now, "No. Not this time. I get it, you don't want to make waves. But this was too far, and it's not fair to you in any which way to just leave it lie. She will be reprimanded, and if anything happens because of it," She shakes her head, "Well, I'm not going to let it."

"Thanks," You manage to choke out. The stress and relief both getting to you in that moment, due in large part to her firmness on the matter. 

The teacher hugs you then, squeezing tight, "We have rules in place for this kind of stuff. And I'm sure once her husband hears wind of this he'll do his best to make sure nothing comes of it," She pulls back, hands on your cheeks, "Okay?"

You nod, hoping she can't see the tears pricking your eyes, "Okay."

Aubrey lets you go, "You're sure you're fine?"

"Yeah," You shake your head, "Just the words of someone who doesn't know how to mind their own business. I've had worse."

She nods, "Alright. Have a good night, and be safe."

You say goodbye and she walks off. You have to grip your wrist with your free hand to keep the one that's shaking steady enough to grab the door handle. 

You drive in silence to the Plex, both hands tight on the wheel. 

You're not going to let it get to you, you're not going to let it get to you, you know she's wrong, she's always wrong, she's just an asshole and you know that you're doing your best, you're doing great! Lisa's proof of that, Gabe's proof of that. You're fighting and you're trying, you're trying, you're trying-

The doors to the Daycare shut behind you, interrupting your thoughts. 

Adjusting your bag on your shoulder, you look around for your beanbag, finding it absent. 

"What are you doing here?"

You turn, finding Sun cleaning up art supplies across the room. 

You shake your head, "Not in the mood for this tonight, Sun. If you didn't want me around you could've just said so."

His rays flick back and forth, "What are you talking about?"

"Uh, my beanbag?" You nod to the empty spot, not ignoring the confusion he also displays, "Not the end of the world, really, but still."

He just stares over at you. 

Then, "Bright Eyes, it's Friday."

Shit. It is Friday. You'd lost two days. Too caught up in work and stress and so on, to the point you'd hired Clara for the night and hadn't even realized. Not that it was her fault, she had no reason to question your foolishness. Your fault. Your mistake. Your fuck up. 

Like always.

"I, right, yeah."

"Now, as much as I'd be thrilled to continue to entertain you, I have a preparations to be making," He walks over and starts to guide you, not gently, towards the door, "You understand I'm sure."

You shrug him off, embarrassed, not helping your already growing negative feelings and thoughts, "Yeah, I got it. Night."

You walk out, a bit aimless now. You're frustrated, you're upset, and you really, really, are feeling a bit shitty. There's tears pricking your eyes again, and honestly, you don't know what you need right now to fix it.

"Boss? What are you doing here?"

You turn, "Pete? It's eight o' clock on a Friday, why aren't you home?"

He puts both hands on his chest, "I'm here for my best buddy Jacob's birthday. See the hat," He points to his head, where indeed, he's wearing a party hat, "Did you want to join?"

"I, you know what? Yeah. I would."

"Great! Come on," He slings an arm around your shoulder, changing your direction to the West Arcade, "Some of the gang's upstairs. Savannah was busy, and Jesse's out of town, like a loser, but you'll know most everyone I think."

"You're not going to question me anymore?" You ask. 

He shrugs, "Well no, not my business what you get up to. Unless you want it to be?"

You shake your head instantly, you didn't need to embarrass yourself by telling your coworker you let a middle-aged woman's words make you cry.

He nods, looking forward again, "Besides, you looked like you needed a distraction. For a bit anyway."

"Thanks, Petey," You sigh, "I do."

The atmosphere inside the West Arcade hits you instantly as you walk inside. 

People are chatting, dancing, drinking and making fools of themselves, what you'd typically expect from a Plex party. Or really, any party with a bunch of burnt out twenty-somethings. 

You meet up with Liv and Tyler, and are given a party hat and a drink shortly thereafter. 

You stare down at it for a moment, briefly, and check the time, you have Clara until 11:30, you can have one and sober up in time. 

You say the same thing after the second, and after the third argue that you can just, pick up your car tomorrow, grab an Uber. 

After, drink four, you take the time to sober up for just a moment, which ends up being a mistake. Because now you're alone with your thoughts, and after the night you've had, that's the worst place for you to be. 

The words said to you by a bunch of women in their 40s should not upset you like this, they're the ones choosing to pick on someone half their age. Sure, maybe they weren't wrong but that didn't, that didn't give them the right to talk like that, right? 

You weren't just thinking about yourself, right?

They wouldn't be disappointed in you for not trying to make ammends.

Right?

Fuck, you really should sober up, sober up and go home. 

"Hey, you alright?"

Liv's sitting next to you now. You give a practiced smile, "Just need a little more water. I'll be fine."

"You're sure?" She waves over the bartender to get you another water and order another drink for herself.

You nod, "Positive. If I wasn't I wouldn't be here."

Lying through your teeth is somehow so much easier when you're drunk. 

You drink another water, and don't feel any better. You just feel more, aware. Aware of how you don't fit in, how you're here because Pete took pity on you, how awful of a friend, a sibling, a daughter, a partner- No, not that last one, we're not getting into that mess tonight. 

Has it really been that long since the last time you drank this much? You check the time, it's been an hour or two. You still had time. Fuck it, have another drink and try to have some fun. Something's gotta distract you from this feeling eventually, right? 

When you check the clock again and realize it's 10:40, and it'll take at least twenty for an Uber to get here, you fumble for your phone and call Clara.

"Hey, I'm uh, gonna be home a bit later, is that okay?" You ask against the loudness of the room. You should have went outside instead of going to the quietest corner you could find, but you're kind of losing your logic. 

You have to strain to hear her response, "Yeah, not an issue, I'm mid breath of the wild playthrough so time has no meaning to me."

"You've got breath of the wild? Jealous," Focus, you need to focus so you don't sound stupid, "Anyway, I'm guessing another hour or so, and if it gets too late you can stay over so you're not driving home so late."

"As long as you don't mind me gaming in the living room into the late hours of the night that's cool with me. What are you up to out of curiosity?"

You swallow, "Birthday party."

"Oh, Jacob's yeah? Savannah told me about it but since I was busy I couldn't swing by."

"Oh?" Why does that make you feel bad? Why do you feel so excluded now? That your coworker's sister got an invite and you didn't? Or did you get an invite and you forgot? Why do you care? You're not friends with Jacob. You’re not friends with these people out of work, really. Right?

"-speaking class."

You don't know what she just said, "Gotcha, gotcha. Well, I'll see you later tonight then."

"You got a ride?" You can just make out her button-mashing, followed by a sigh, "Sorry, if you've been drinking I mean."

"Yeah, I'll be good. Thanks."

After hanging up, you just stare down at your drink, then out to the dancefloor. You see everyone having such a great time, so why can't you? Why do you have to be like this? Why can't you just let yourself be happy? What does it take to make you relax and just, chill the hell out? 

You haven't relaxed in months you realize. Not after what happened that night. Ironically, at the last Plex party you attended. If anything, you think being here, doing this, has just made everything that much worse. 

You need to get out of here. You need to go somewhere else, do something else, be someone else. 

Too bad you can't make that last one happen.

You finish your drink, and after a small head rush, walk over to where your friends? coworkers? are and say your goodbyes over the music. 

"Hey, it was really good seeing you tonight!" Pete says, then nods to where Jacob's at on the dancefloor, "Jacob appreciated it for sure."

He's lying. He's just being nice because you're his boss. 

Liv gives you a quick hug, "We should hang out outside of work more often. Maybe somewhere a bit more quiet."

She doesn't mean that. She's pitying you. 

"Yeah, that'd be great!" You smile. 

Tyler raises his fist and you bump it, "See you Monday, broski. Stay safe out there."

"Can do, have a good night guys."

"See you!" And "Be safe!" are shouted out behind you.

You believe the genuity of that. You may know that they hate you, but they're nice people. 

Your feet walk you in the direction you don't want to be heading. Split between this impulse decision and just going home. But you can't make yourself go home, you can't go home, home just remind you of everything, and everything you're not-

The Daycare doors feel heavier than usual, which makes sense considering how much you've had tonight. Inside, you find it's, pretty much the same as usual, you don't know what all the fuss was over on Sun's part. 

Speaking of, where is he? 

You shuffle in, taking note of the small plastic tea cups and saucers sitting on a table that's been moved to the center of the space. Along with... snacks? Right, Chica's supposed to be here. Seems she hasn't shown up just yet.

You're trying to remind yourself why you came here as opposed to calling for a ride, when you hear the doors open again. 

"Oh. You're back."

You turn, Sun is holding a tray with a teapot, and there is indeed, steam coming out of it. Now you know. 

"Did you want something or are you just here to bother me?" He swiftly walks past you, setting the pot and tray down with pointed showmanship.

Something about his tone sets you off. Not unusual. But because you're not sober, you speak your mind in a way you otherwise wouldn’t. Unfortunately unusual. 

"You know, starting to wonder that myself."

"Really now?" He speaks with a bored enthusiasm that grates on you.

"Yeah, really. You know, I don't sleep at night because of you," You shake your head, "My dreams are just, filled, with nothing but that night. Over and over again, it plays in my head. And you see, the worst part is that it's not even the idea of seeing him in that stupid machine. You know what keeps me up? You. And what you did to me," You take a deep breath, looking back to him, "And what I did to you." 

Sun's rays tick a few times. 

Then, "You're intoxicated."

"Yeah, no shit, glad you finally got up to speed."

"I'm just rather surprised you'd be interested in taking such risks again considering what happened to you last time."

You scoff, "Don't even try to pull that, I wasn't wasted, I had a concussion."

"I was referring to being at the Plex so late alone, Starshine," His gaze narrows, "But rest assured, you're increasing my concern the more you speak."

"Concern for what? Because we both know it isn't for me. And that's fine, shouldn't expect, don't deserve it. Even if I-" You stop yourself, you're not out of it enough for that, "I'll just give it to you straight; you have no reason to be concerned. For my siblings? They don't need me, Clara sees more of them than I do and she does a hell of a lot better job. My work? Someone else would fill the gap when I'm gone, my team's more than competent without me. My friends? They've got each other, or, or partners. And our little investigation? You," You slow down for a moment, "Well, I'm sure with that charming personality of yours you could trick another sorry sucker into helping you with ease."

You throw up your hands, laughing, "So, no need for concern here, Sunny. If something happens to me no one will notice!" Your face feels wet, "No one's going to fucking care. So, you can take your concern and shove it."

You bring a hand up to your face, confirming that you are crying, "Fuck, exactly what I needed to top off the night."

You sniff once, and then turn around, you seemed to get everything you'd wanted to say out of your system, maybe you can go home and be happy now. Or something. 

"Why did you come here tonight?"

You pause, then laugh quietly, hand coming up to run through your hair, "Hell if I know."

A hand is set on your shoulder, one that makes you spin around. The motion slightly jogs you.

Sun's gaze is down at you, rays spinning once or twice but otherwise motionless. 

"Stop that. I don't like being analyzed," You mutter, averting your eyes. 

His other hand comes up to guide your focus back to him, "You're in no condition to go anywhere. Not right now."

You manage a half-hearted chuckle, "Give me some credit, Sun. I'm calling an uber as soon as I'm out of here."

You think if he could frown he would, instead, his eyes narrow and grip tightens just a tad, "Not wise. Not if you're alone. I suppose there's other options. Hold still. And don't look down."

"What are you-hey hey hey, what are you doing?" You argue, anger flaring momentarily as he takes hold of you, your feet coming out from under you as he lifts you into his arms. 

Before you know it, you're up in the air, having to squeeze your eyes shut so you don't get dizzy from the change. You feel Sun land on solid ground again several seconds later.

"You say a word about anything and I'm putting you in the theater instead," A brief pause, "Or on a naptime mat down below."

You open your eye, "Wha-Oh."

"I mean it. Not. A. Word."

You put your hands up, "Okay, okay."

He didn't say anything about making private observations to yourself. 

The Attendant's room is somehow exactly what you expected and not at all. Your first thought is organized. Your second thought is empty. 

Clean also comes to mind, there's not a speck of dust in sight. You take note of the different standout features. An old, Hollywood style dresser with matching mirror and lights, string lights hang from the ceiling among the rafters. There's a set of cubbies containing spare toys, and some seemingly ongoing craft projects. 

You spy your bean bag in a corner with a few others. There's also a large pile of blankets and stuffed animals, almost like a bed. Lying nearby you see a charging port. 

The most interesting thing to you, however, is the green tube in the left wall, leading obviously to somewhere, you just don't know where exactly. 

You don't get to find out, Sun sets you down on the blanket pile, and if you weren't so hypervigilant you'd sink right in, exhaustion is starting to hit you after the combination of drinking, yelling, and crying. 

You hear a click and realize he's left the room. It's the perfect opportunity to snoop, but the desire for rest outweighs this urge. Besides, it's rude. And you're not that rude.

You feel like all you did was blink and he's back again. You rub your face and pat it a few times to try and wake up, glancing over to the bot.

"I've already taken the liberties of informing your babysitter that you will be home after several hours of sleep. And agreed upon compensation." Sun answers your look of concerned confusion by raising his hand with your phone, "You dropped it when I picked you up, she had asked about your well-being. You can check to confirm I did nothing else if that eases you."

The fact you can't recall that happening proves it's probably for the best he did that.

"God she's going to hate me," You groan, rubbing your face with both hands. 

Sun sets your phone down beside you, and sits down in front of you, glass of water in one hand, "She does not. Drink."

You eye the glass with suspicion.

"Are you seriously debating whether I've tampered with it?"

"Should I not?"

A scoff, "It's a glass of water, I've done nothing to it."

"Sound like something someone who did something to it would say," You muse.

Another scoff, and he leans down, rays clicking, "If I was going to do something, Bright Eyes, it would have already been done. And need I remind you, I can't cause harm even if I wanted to."

"Fine," You huff, taking the cup and muttering as you sip, "I'm surprised they let you have glass."

No answer. You look over, eyebrows raised. 

Then it clicks, "Ah. Contraband. Noted," You finish the glass and wipe your mouth, "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

No words for a bit, your head hurts, but this helps. That might be a good thing to bring up, you're not a fan of this kind of silence.

"Why did you help me? Or I guess, why are you actively, helping me?"

Sun shrugs, hands clasped in his lap. You expected a snarked out comment that you're strangely not receiving.

Then, "I'll get you another glass. You should rest in the meantime." He stands up, and in your current state the action panics you. 

"Wait," You reach out, grabbing his arm, "Don't go. I'm, I don't want to be alone. Please." God, you sound pathetic.

You also realize what it is you're doing, and to whom, and you let go, "I, shit, sorry. Just, yeah just go get the water. I'll be fine."

You pull your knees up to your chest, controlling your breathing. You didn't need to start crying again. You're fine, you know you'll be fine.

A soft jingling sound interrupts your thoughts, and looking up you see Sun unwrapping one of the ribbons from his forearm, then his wrist. Once he's finished, the ribbon and bells piled in one hand, he holds it out to you. 

You furrow your brow, but take the offering. 

"It's the best way I can think of to assure you I'll be back. I'd look rather silly if I went around like this, right?" He waves both hands up by his face. 

You sniff, "Yeah."

"And if you're truly, concerned, just ring, and I'll be here," He stands straight again, taking the glass, "I'll just be a moment."

"Ok."

He leaves the room, and you're alone.

Having nothing better to do, you lean back against the numerous pillows and stuffed animals behind you, hands clasping and resting on your chest. 

You take note that the ceiling has a few glow in the dark stickers you recognize from the Daycare proper. Someone must've snatched the extras when they had the chance. The thought makes you laugh softly. 

It also occurs to you then that Moon is additionally assisting in this, mess, you've created, given that the theater is probably dark, and you don't believe that door leads anywhere else. 

You close your eyes, shame welling up in you. This is pathetic on your part. Truly and utterly. You're an adult, and you can't take care of yourself after a night of drinking? You can't manage to drink responsibly, avoid the typical stereotype and make a fool out of yourself saying shit you shouldn't? God, you're so-

You're being gently jostled awake, "You can't sleep like that, friend. You'll regret it." More quietly, "And he won't shut up about it, for that matter."

You open your eyes, they feel a tad heavy from the short nap you got. Your senses perk up however, when you smell something greasy yet heavenly. Pizza, currently in Sun's hand, soon to be in your stomach if you have anything to do with it.

"Thought you were just getting water," You say, as if you're not two seconds away from devouring that pizza whole. 

He scoffs lightly, setting the pizza in front of you and handing you the water, "I had a feeling if I told you what I was doing it would only make things worse."

"You'd be right," You take a brief drink of water, then open the pizza box and grab a slice. It's divine. And you don't say that lightly when it came to Fazbear pizza. 

You groan mid-bite, leaning back against the plushes behind you, "God, I wish you could taste how good this is right now. Like," You take another bite, "So frickin' good."

You're too focused on eating to overhear Sun laughing quietly at your antics. You managed to scoff down three slices before he takes it away from you. 

He places it over on the dresser, "You'll get sick. And preferably, I'd rather not be cleaning up vomit at 1 am, if it's all the same to you."

"Just one more! Come on," You whine, then pause, eyebrows shooting up, "Oh I am not sober, that's for sure."

You realize Sun's staring at you, and your face heats up.

"Don't look at me like that, it just makes it worse," Your hands come up and cover your face.

At that Sun laughs. And maybe you're a bit out of it, but it doesn't sound mocking, or pretentious. It's genuine. 

You feel a compulsion to right your wrongs from earlier, or at the very least, try to.

"I'm, I'm sorry for what I said. You didn't deserve that."

"I don't accept." Sun states. 

You cringe, and nod, "Fair."

He chuckles, "I don't accept, because it wasn't directed at me. You may have said those words at me, but I think we both know their true target."

You think for a moment, nodding solemnly, "Helen."

"Who? I-" He shakes his head, "Starlight, I meant yourself."

"Oh. That makes a bit more sense." You decide to give him a bit more context to save some trouble, "She runs the PTA. My third worst enemy, behind you, and Grab Ass. You got a Katie Chase in that little directory of yours?"

"Yes? But-oh. That one." 

Your brows raise for a moment, "Wow, I've never heard you speak with that much disdain before."

"We all have limits, friend," His tone shifts, like he's about to boil over with rage, "We all have limits..."

You yawn, and his attention shifts. He motions for you to take off your shoes and the likes, and you get the hint. You lay back into the bed-you're pretty sure there's a mattress buried under here somewhere, feels like it-letting loose another yawn.

Sun takes one of the blankets and tosses out over you, it falls slowly down on top of you. Then, he bends down and presses his smile to your forehead, pulling back after a moment and patting your head.

"What was that for?"

His rays spin, eyes widening a fraction. Seems he's just now realizing what he did, "An unfortunate matter of programming. One I'm hoping you'll forget by morning."

You scoff, smile on your lips, "That's not how being drunk works, you know. Only if you've drank a lot."

That seems to relax him.

"So explain it to me then," He sits at the end of the blanket pile, "I'm curious."

You sit up slightly to make eye contact with him, "Really? All the stuff you could learn about and that's what piques your interest?"

He nods.

You stare at him a moment, then lay back down, "I mean, alright. Do my best here."

You explain. Sun asks you a question every now and then. You just, talk. You talk to each other for, awhile it feels like. You talk until your throat starts to get sore. You, you haven't spoken with someone like this in a long time. Long enough you can't remember when the last time you did was. 

You start to get tired and Sun notices immediately. He mutters a brief goodnight to you, and the lights are shut off soon thereafter.

You roll over to your side to watch Moon appear. 

"Thank you. Both of you," You say, as he walks back over to you, "You didn't have to do all this, it's, appreciated."

He nods, "You are welcome."

A sudden realization hits you as sleep begins to take over. 

"My stuff..." You mutter, "I, left my stuff back in the West Arcade, if it's not stolen already."

Moon stands, "I'll retrieve it for you. Will you be alright?"

You sleepily raise your hand, bells jingling in your grasp, "Got these. And I'm a bit more sober now. I'll be okay."

Moon nods, "Then I'll return shortly."

"I might be asleep by then," You yawn, "So I'll preemptively say thank you, and goodnight."

"Goodnight, Diana. Sweet Dreams."

You huff lightly, "What, no goodnight kiss?"

It takes you all of 0.5 seconds to realize what you just said.

"Oh goddammit-"

Moon leans down, and presses a kiss to your forehead, his tone cheeky as he pulls away again, "Is that satisfactory, your highness?"

Your face is hot with embarrassment but you refuse to lose. 

"'Twas," You turn over and away so he can't see your wide-eyed 'holy shit' stare, "But I'll have you know that I'm not that demanding when I drink. This was a one-time thing. Won't happen again."

"Of course not."

You snuggle further under the blanket, mumbling, "It won't. I mean it. It was a stupid mistake. One that's going to haunt me for a while."

Quiet. You feel him sit down beside you, "Everyone makes mistakes, Icarus. It's how we learn from them that matters."

"Trust me, I know."

A hand on your shoulder presses down and makes you lay back on your back. You stare up into red eyes, narrowed with concern down at you. The gaze makes you uncomfortable. You try to brush it off.

"I don't need a pity party, Moon. I gave myself enough of one earlier."

He tilts his head, "It's funny how you always assume care to be pity. I wonder why that is?"

You're about to say it, and play it off as a joke, but he beats you to the punch. 

"Well, it's not fair to speculate. So I'll just tell you, you don't have to suspicious of such with me. Or either of us for that matter," His focus goes back on you, "We mean what we say."

You raise a brow questioningly.

"For the most part, I should say."

You chuckle, "Yeah, I know."

"Your friends mean what they say too, you know. They care about you. As does your family. It's obvious to anyone that sees it. You just simply need to allow yourself to." He pokes your forehead. 

You sigh, looking up to the ceiling briefly, "Oh, that's a lot harder than it sounds, Moon-man."

"I never suggested otherwise. I merely intended to remind you."

"I've been reminded," You smile slightly, "And I'll do my best to continue to do so."

"You'll have assistance." You can't tell if that's a tease, a threat, or a promise. You'll just be on the safe side and assume all three. 

You smirk, "Goodnight, Moon. For real this time."

"Goodnight, Andromeda. For real." He rises from the bed, giving a quick two-finger salute.

You snicker, shake your head, and close your eyes. 

A few moments later you hear the jingle of bells fade out into the Daycare itself.

Your hand clutches the bells and ribbon in your hand a tad tighter, and you feel yourself start to drift off into sleep.

You find yourself awake some time, you're guessing, much later. Your head isn't nearly as heavy, and you feel as if you slept for at least a decent amount of time. 

Groggily, you fumble for your phone, finding that it's been about three hours since you fell asleep. 

You become keenly aware of someone staring at you, and scanning the room find Moon staring down at you from the rafters. 

Normally, this would be an alarming sight at 4 in the morning, for you and your half-asleep mind, it arouses mild surprise. 

"Why are you awake?" He asks. 

You sit up, fumbling for the glass beside you, "I become very awake in the hours after drinking," You gulp down the glass, "For a very short period of time. I'll probably start feeling tired again in a few minutes."

You wipe your mouth and look up to the Attendant, "Why were you watching me?"

Moon shrugs, "Bored."

"Yeah right," You scoff, "Not with the amount of shit you get into on the regular. What's your real reason, sport?"

"Sport?" He asks.

You wave your hand, "It's a combination of sleepiness and leftover drunkenness, just ignore it and save me some embarrassment."

"Noted."

"You didn't answer the question. Don't think I didn't notice," Your arm moves jankily as you point your finger at him. 

His faceplate spins, "We simply wanted to ensure you were alright."

"We? That's a shocker. I'm surprised he isn't having a hissy fit about you making such an implication."

There's a bout of binary before Moon answers with a sigh, "He is now."

You giggle, "Sorry."

Quiet for a few moments.

"Your belongings are located beside you," Moon points to where your bag sits on the floor not too far from the bed, "They appeared to be in order, though I can't say for certain."

Your eyes widen for a moment before you nod your head slowly, "Oh yeah, forgot about that. Thanks."

Moon nods.

"Sorry if I um, ruined your evening plans."

The Naptime Attendant chuckles, "Plans? What is it that you think we get up to, Pandora?"

"You know what I mean, I know you don't just sit and stare at the wall for hours until open," You shrug, "You explore, fuck around with your mechanics, which I don't approve of still," You send him a scolding glare, then continue, "Sun has gossip night with Chica, seems to be a bit crafty as well."

Moon whistles, or plays the sound, at least, "Impressive."

"Yeah, yeah," You wave him off, yawning.

"Seems you've expended your remaining energy."

You settle back into bed, "Getting there."

"Anything I can do to help?" He asks, shifting position to hang upside down from the beam, feet hooked over the other side. 

You scoff lightly, "You, aiding those in desperate need of rest? I don't buy it."

"It's my specialty." He insists, and you both quietly laugh.

"Want me back to bed that bad, huh?" You ask, hands clasping on your chest while you stare up at him, thinking.

"Have any good bedtime stories?"

His faceplate spins, "More than you'd imagine."

"Pick one for me then, and I think that'll do the trick," You nod once, affirmingly.

"Very well."

He starts, voice smooth, soft. Really, perfect for storytelling if you're being honest. It helps your mind to settle again, and well before the end, you're asleep again.

Waking up the next morning, you find yourself face to, back? with a yellow animatronic. 

Sitting up, you see Sun is slouched beside the bed, facing away from you. Examining him more closely you see there's a charging cord plug into the back of his head. 

Curiously, you reach out to poke him. 

"I'd appreciate the ability to recharge in peace, friend."

You jump back, cursing under your breath. 

Then, you huff, "There's no way you could tell what I was going to do."

"No, but a bot can have his suspicions," He turns to look back at you, "And plenty of mine have been right about you."

"'Plenty of mine have been right about you.'" You mock quietly. 

"How are you feeling?"

You sigh, shrugging, "Fine. Maybe a little hungover. I'll live, if you were worried."

"I wasn't," He retorts as you snicker, "But good to know."

You nod to the charging cable, "Thought the two of you switching kept you from using that too often."

At this, Sun flusters. Taking a moment to articulate himself.

"Typically. However, Moon felt-" A bit of binary, before doubling down, "Moon felt it would be unfair to have the lights on in any manner of speaking while you slept. So they remained off throughout the night."

You muse on the words for a minute, nodding thoughtfully. Inside, part of you is overjoyed, and the other is a mixture of shocked and maybe touched? You're not going to think on it further. Point is, Sun gave up his hours-willingly or unwillingly-to give you the chance to sleep. 

"Well, it's appreciated," You reach up and flick his forehead, narrowly dodging around him to grab your phone as he shoos you away. 

He grumbles a response you don't catch. 

Checking the time, it's around 8 am. Looking at your messages, Sun told Clara you'd be home by 10. Yikes. Good to know how little faith he had in you. Well, best not waste it. 

You stretch, giving a final yawn, "This place have a breakfast special? Feel like I swear I've heard about it at least once."

"It does, but I'll inform you it's not one that's served in bed."

"Relax. I can take care of myself just fine now," You throw off the blanket and stand up, "I'll be back. Hold down the fort in the meantime, yeah?"

Sun sputters, a "What?" As you pat him briefly on the back and march out of the room, on the prowl for food to satisfy your hunger. 

Once you find it, you sneak your way back into the Daycare. The Plex is still pretty much abandoned at this point in the morning, but you don't want to have to explain yourself if you don't have to. 

Walking in, you plop down on the bed beside Sun and dig into your breakfast sandwich. Either you're much more hungover than you thought, or this is delicious. Potentially, both. 

"Sorry you missed out on your shit talking session," You say between bites, "As a fellow disgruntled employee I know how important those can be."

Sun scoffs.

You turn to look at him, "And thanks for taking care of me. It's appreciated."

This appears to surprise him, rays ticking to one side, "You're welcome."

"You're not the worst person I've ever met, you know," You take another bite, "Up there, but you have your good qualities."

"That means the world coming from you," He says, hand on his chest and voice syrupy sweet.

You nod, "I know."

He huffs, it turns into a laugh after a moment.

"You're not the worst person I've met, either," His gaze meets yours, "Not as much as you believe yourself to be."

You pause, surprised. Then, you swallow, coughing, "T-thanks."

He turns away again. You continue to eat. 

A thought crosses your mind. 

"You know, if you were really worried about the light, you could've just closed the curtains."

Sun freezes. Then, he sighs, heavily. Hand coming up to run down his face before falling into his lap. 

"Yes. I suppose that would have, been an option."

You burst out laughing, which only grows as the two attendants seem to argue back and forth with each other. 

As you bask in the moment, you find yourself thinking back. 

Yeah, you weren't perfect, but you cared. A lot. And you think that says a lot. Means a lot.

To someone, at least.

☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙

Well, you can probably see now why this bad boy was scrapped as a chapter. Believe me I had the full intentions of saving it, but I'll admit once I saw an out by using it as a one-shot I jumped on it lol 

I don't know if it's everything that I wanted, but I think I hit the main points I'd originally set out to. 

To those who wanted affection with the CS boys, you got it! Just maybe not how you were expecting :) Ah, who am I kidding, you knew it was going to come at the price of angst

Sorry that I went awol for a bit, the antibiotics DID knock me on my ass and it was, rough, to put it plainly and I'm still going to have to get a scan lmao

idk man, I just want to be better already, I gotta propose (MY THESIS, I MEAN MY THESIS, I AM SINGLE) in a few weeks I don't have time for this >_< (she says, as if this hasn't been a 3 month saga)

Gahhh, anyway, hope you enjoyed! Have no idea how I'll feel from one day so you may or may not see me but know I'll be writing in the meantime (and enjoying it i promise, it's my hobby afterall) thanks for reading!

Tag list (hope I did this right, if you did not want tagged simply let me know and I'll remove you!):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @eternal-soup (IT WON'T LET ME @ YOU I'M SORRY)

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse

If you want to be added to the tag list, or check out my other stuff, see this post here for more information, bye!

[sapphiresaphics]

Having spent time now with the full series I still don’t feel the pacing issues other people seemed to have with it.

I get that as the episodes are releasing and we only have 3 a week and don’t have the full picture of what they’re planning it can be really easy to feel lost and confused.

But now knowing where they were going, a lot of those supposed “rushed plot lines” people were complaining about make sense. The importance of the Black Rose stuff now makes sense because it’s Ambessa’s entire motivation for why she’s doing the things she’s doing. It makes sense to take Ekko and Jayce out of the plot briefly when they visit the hexcore cuz that forces Ambessa to side with Singe. It makes sense why the Warwick stuff was being set up because that ended up being the catalyst to propel Viktor into being the Machine Herald.

Also, it makes sense now why Piltover and Zaun played such an important role in being the stage for where THIS story was set. I get people wanted the show to be more about the inequality, but the inequality was always just the set dressing for the main characters to be in and was never the central focus of the show. Not even back in season 1.

Like back in season 1 the inequality helped explain the characters motivations, but the central core message the story was telling was how people compromised their morals with good intentions only to achieve terrible results.

Jayce built Hextech to help the undercity and he ends up using it against them. Viktor obsesses so much over fixing his disease that he compromises and takes shimmer and in the process Sky dies. Silco dreams of a free Zaun, but it results in him essentially becoming a drug lord and harming the people of Zaun more than helping them. Caitlyn breaks Vi out of prison to help her hunt down Jinx, and in the process of having Vi return into her life inadvertently causes Jinx to double down and attack the Piltover council.

Inequality was a setting and a backdrop, but the show was never focused on resolving or exploring those issues much deeper than it was.

Also, about that pacing.. have you guys gone back and rewatched Season 1? The first 2 episodes are pretty chill with the pacing, but episode 3 goes crazy. And so does episode 4 and 5 and 6… like the pacing gets wilder and wilder as the season goes on until towards the end we are jumping from Silco reeling from nearly getting killed by Sevika to having a friendly discussion with Jayce on the bridge to being captured by Jinx. It’s FAST guys. Breakneck speed.

I will also say that rewatching season 1 gives me an appreciation for a lot of the parallels they had in season 2 that I missed. Things like “Remember Me” being the theme to when Vander attacks Silco back in season 1. Or like how when AU Powder appears on the dance floor with Ekko mirrors how Jinx approached him on the bridge in Season 1 Episode 7. Or how Jayce and Viktor invented Hextech floating up on the ceiling, and the series ends with the two floating in the ethereal plane together.

I maintain that a lot of these criticisms about season 2’s pacing are not as bad as some people think they are once you take the whole series together as a whole. Without that 3 year gap or the wait between episode drops, the whole series blends together much more seamlessly.

And then there’s like… season 2 episode 7? That episode stops all the forward momentum and resets our expectations. It provides us with context for some of the stuff we had seen and helps us understand the stakes going forward. When people are complaining the series is going by too fast I just can’t agree because that episode exists and it literally stops us in our tracks before ramping up again.

I understand that some side characters outside the central 7-8 mains weren’t fully developed much and that is definitely a valid criticism of the show… however I would also remind people that season 1 had a similar problem. Grayson was a fascinating character I wish I knew more about, but outside of a small cameo in episode 5 she’s just gone out of the series forever and nobody brings her up again ever. We never learn much about Huck. We never learn what happened to Clagger and Mylo’s parents. We never learn anything about Finn and what he did. We never learn more about the robot council member or the woman who has a clock on her neck. There are a LOT of characters who just never come back at all in season 1.

I dunno guys.. the more I digest this series the more many of the criticisms feel unfounded or a real reach for something to complain about.

[q8qwertyuiop8p]

My thoughts on arcane season 2 act one, part two

The grey is also confusing. So the industrialization Silco caused made the air worse, but he was able to build ventilation systems to keep it at bay? Is the grey alive? Why does it keep having a face? Is that what silco used against the chembarons, meaning he is immune? Did the grey kill Margot and her allies?

Also is Lest male or female? A transwoman? I'm having flashbacks to when I wasn't sure of greyson's gender. I think Lest is also a woman but I'm not sure.

I thought Ambessa actually wasn't so bad this time around, until we find out she was behind everything. How long has ambessa known about leblanc?

The Hellfire scene was super cool, the music was neat and we got a really good shot of Vi. The scene with Caitlyn and the funeral was also neat, how it explored a graphite style.

I'm mad that bilbok, hoskel, and Cassandra were the only ones to die. Why did shoola and Salo also have to live?

I don't like season 2 jinx so far. Similarly to Vi, I can understand why she acts the way she does, but I really don't like it. And why are Smeech's followers trying to kidnap all these children?

The fight between Smeech and Sevika was off to a good start. But once we really start to focus on sevika's arm (cue yet another glaringly obvious parallel in the way Sevika takes off her cape) things got very... strange. I personally wasn't into the style they used for Sevika's arm, along with the constant arcade noises. It felt spider-verse esque (along with the smoke of Jinx's gun making the word POW) and did not fit well into arcane. I also don't like the way Sevika's arm works- you have to pull the lever, wait for the slot machine, and whatever random combination you get dictates what the arm does. It's incredibly counterintuitive and again, how did jinx, as genius as she is, just build this so quickly? I do like the way sevika's new arm looks and how she can shoot the chomper and pull it back, but I have to say I prefer her old arm.

The fight between Vi and Jinx was heartbreaking and incredibly done. The song gave me chills and we got some incredibly beautiful scenes out of it, plus it was neat learning that Vander used to tell them stories about Janna. The only thing I didn't like about it was how rushed this, too, felt.

[lonelym00n]

Max Fox x Reader - Headcannons

this is for all the max fox girlies out there. if you're a mikey madison fan and haven't watched better things just for her, shame on u.

this is likely going to contain max snippets from every season, so don't read if you care about spoilers.

GO WATCH BETTER THINGS!! seriously it's a really good show about a single mother raising three daughters.

also, LOOK AT BABY MIKEY. LOOK AT HER.

Pre-relationship

when max isn't with paisley or her boyfriend of the week, she's with you

you're the most chill of all her friends so she hangs out with you mostly when she doesn't feel like causing her mom an aneurism

sam loves you more than max's other friends

you always thank her for her hospitality and do the dishes for her if she cooks when you're around

max's favorite thing about you is that she doesn't feel the need to worry about if you think she seems cool or not

you love watching old movies with max because she always has such thoughtful comments on the cinematography

you always arrive early to her band's gigs just so you can cheer her on from the front row

you are max's personal Lyft driver when you get your license (sam is thankful that the bill has gone down significantly)

How you catch feelings

you fall for max first

your feelings for her start when she begins opening up to you about her dad and how much her parent's divorce has affected her

she tells you about the jealousy she holds for how much she has to share her mom with her mom's job and her two sisters

she also opens up about how she has no clue what to do once she graduates

you tell her that sam loves her just as much as she did before her sisters were born and that there's no rush to decide what path she wants to choose post-graduation

you realize your feelings for max when she surprises you by playing your favorite song on the guitar

the smile she gave you after she finished playing made your heart leap into your throat

you knew you had it bad for her after that

Unrequited feelings

you're too much of a chicken to admit your feelings to max because you don't want to ruin your friendship

you are horrified when she starts dating the 34 year old man, you tell yourself that it's not because you're jealous, but because max is only 16 (it's definitely because you're jealous)

max cried on your shoulder when she learned her dad had stood her up on her graduation day

you threaten to train chewy to bite him for the next time he shows up to interrupt her life

she laughs and your heart skips a beat at the sound

when max tells you about her decision to go to college in Chicago, you try not to cry (let's pretend you chose to go to college somewhere in LA)

you do cry when you drop her and sam off at the airport on their way to Chicago (cry is putting it lightly, you full on sobbed into max's shirt)

Other people notice your feelings

with max off at college, you have a hard time figuring out what to do with yourself when you aren't attending classes

you take to moping around the fox's house

frankie is the first to catch onto your feelings for max, after seeing you sniffle pitifully into a carton of ice cream for the third weekend in a row, they figured you must've loved max more than you let on

frankie doesn't say anything to you about their realization, concluding that you probably hadn't yet registered that you harbored more than friendly thoughts for max

sam doesn't question why she keeps finding you fast asleep on her living room couch, so she remains none the wiser about your love for her daughter

when max calls you crying one night and tells you about how she doesn't think college is right for her, it takes everything in your willpower not to encourage her to hop on the next flight back to LA

you tell her she has to make the decision on her own but that you will wholeheartedly support her either way

when she does return, you don't even hide how ecstatic you are

the pain of hiding your feelings for her does return, but it's nothing compared to how heartbroken you felt while she was away

when she starts dating olivier, you feel more depressed than you do jealous

max notices your more frequent sad moods and her heart pangs dejectedly whenever she asks if you're okay and you brush her off

you feel lost and decide to confide in rich about your love for max, you always thought he was such a good second dad to her

he isn't fully surprised at your feelings for the other girl, having sensed that something more was likely going on between you two

he's so happy that you decided to tell him and offers you words of advice that he had picked up from being in similar situations to yours

from that moment on, he's silently rooting for you and max to get together

Max realizes her feelings for you

with her new love for photography, she innocently invited both you and paisley to model for an idea that she wanted to shoot

paisley agrees excitedly while you agree with more reluctance

the pictures with paisley turn out great

when it's your turn, max is in utter awe at how gently your beauty comes across in the photos

you fit the image she had wanted to capture so perfectly and as she continues to photograph you, her heart thumps wildly in her chest

the slow groundbreaking realization of the love she so deeply holds for you creeps up her spine

she pushes you away the next week and the week after that, filled with panic

now that she has figured out how she feels about you, she knows she'll never be able to hide it from you

you feel hurt that max is avoiding you, but you figure it's because she's spending more time with her boyfriend (max didn't tell you that she had broken up with him directly after the photoshoot)

max tells rich about her feelings for you and he only just barely manages to hide his joy at the news

he reassures her there's nothing wrong with the way she feels about you and that her family would accept and support her regardless

after a week of gathering up her nerve (and a third week of avoiding you), she reveals her feelings for you to sam

sam is shocked but reassures max that she is so happy and proud

when max falls asleep for the night, sam rushes to frankie's room for advice on ways that she could be there for max

Confession

one morning, frankie urges max to confess to you

needless to say, max is pissed at sam for telling frankie

a big fight starts between the three of them (max upset with sam for telling frankie, sam mad at frankie for telling max that she had told them about it, and frankie yelling at max to just tell you how she felt)

you, completely fed up with being avoided by max, stomp into the fox household to give the girl a piece of your mind

the fighting comes to a halt when you walk in the door, frankie and sam quickly scurry away

just as you're about to speak, max gently grabs your arm and tugs you outside with her

she shushes all your attempts to talk and apologies for avoiding you

she looks nervous and so uncharacteristically max as she takes your hand in hers

when she tells you she was avoiding you because she realized she was in love with you, you nearly forget how to breathe

she looks at you so worriedly while she waits for your response

when you tell her you feel the same, her eyes crinkle in happiness

max leans closer and the two of you share a soft kiss

max lovers you better cause some commotion in the comments!! she needs more love and I won't be silent about it anymore!

[randomfoggytiger]

Collector's Edition: Reworking Requiem and Mulder's Return (Part IV)

More Requiem AUs!

Loose chronological order below~

Katherinexx1's Miracle

He didn't notice it right away, but she had created this heart-shaped figure on her belly placing her hand next to his.

Pre-Requiem: Scully finds out the big news before Mulder leaves for Oregon again.

JET's (mulderscreek, tumblr, freeservers) Snippet Fic

She conceded, "So our track record has been iffy at best during the most recent Decembers. But last year wasn't too bad."

"Yeah, I think the highlight of the month was when I was attacked by zombies."

Pre-Requiem: There is no baby, and no abduction-- only Scully picking up Mulder during the holidays.

XPhileChai's Life is like a new case - you never know what you're gonna get.

She opened her eyes and met his. He saw the change in her eyes go from "calm and happy" to "oh, yeah, I'm in a car on a stakeout".

Pre-Requiem: Mulder rushes Scully to the hospital, where they discover she miscarried one of two babies.

@alsoablankslate/tabulaxrasa 's (LJ, tripod) Things Outside

The sun was setting, and the sky was a wide swath of indigo out the kitchen window. Sometimes it was very beautiful here. Summer here was like springtime in DC, maybe. How you were always conscious of it, of the rightness of the season, the perfect fit of area and temperature and color and the smell of the air.

They couldn't find out about the baby.

Pre-Requiem: Mulder is never abducted-- instead, he and Scully are put under house arrest.

@myownsuperintendent (Ao3)

“Marry Me” (Ao3)

He hadn’t expected her to say that soon, but he knows she means it.  Her practicality makes him smile.

Pre-Requiem: Mulder recalls how he and Scully discovered her pregnancy before he left for Oregon; and decides to seal their partnership with a proposal. 

Fic: “No Secrets” (Ao3)

“You could have died if I hadn’t gone back and looked at your medical records from last year.  If I hadn’t figured out what was happening and how to reverse it.  And you…you weren’t going to tell me?”  Her voice is no longer even now, but she’s not yelling either; it sounds like all the air has gone out of her.

“I didn’t think there was anything we could do about it,” he says, but he realizes how stupid that is even as he’s saying it. 

Post Requiem: Scully not only finds Mulder after his return but also heals his brain disease. 

@drbedeliadumaurier/heartsfilthylesson's scully finds out she's pregnant before mulder leaves/isolated systems - Chapter 2

Beside her in a near-stranger’s living room, Mulder seems both somber and hopeful. He reaches for her hand and Scully knows his thoughts are filled with stolen ova and failed IVF and the child she lost and the one he’s not aware she’ll have. She needs to tell him.

Pre-Requiem: Scully knows, and decides to tell Mulder the news after her chills in Bellefleur.

Donna/donnah’s (Gossamer, mulderscreek) Alternatives

"I just, I just . . . I just hit the ground."

"Just lie still."

"Why is this happening to me?" He brushed a tear that escaped her eye and trailed down her cheek.

Requiem: Mulder drags Scully to the hospital.

Pattie’s Erlenmeyer Injustice

Not a day goes by that I don't think of the implications of this job, and especially this partnership. The knowledge that one or both of us might be killed or permanently injured in the line of duty hides in the backdrop, waiting to be cast and played out, by directors unknown.

Requiem: Mulder chooses to leave with the alien ship.

@tatooedlaura-blog/tatooedlaura/Laura Sprys's Oregon

The pull to go to them overwhelmed …

The need to join, to stand in the light, defied nature …

But he remained rooted in place.

Requiem: Mulder doesn't leave with the ship, and is panicked after receiving a panicked phone call from TLG.

xphilernj’s (Ao3, Two Close for Comfort) Find the Future - Chapter 1

Upon their arrival at Dulles International Airport in D.C., Mulder was fit to be tied and Skinner was ready to clamp the handcuffs on him and throw Mulder in the trunk of his car.

Requiem: Mulder rushes back to Scully’s side.

Maidenjedi's Would That I Could Travel Both

She held her breath as his arms wrapped around her, and felt his reluctance to leave her as much as his eagerness to go, to discover, to find the all-encompassing Truth.

Requiem: Amidst a selection of AUs, Mulder didn't get his answers but did have a happy ending.

Erin M. Blair’s The Blessing

He stood in the doorway of her hospital room and walked toward the chair by the bed. Pulling it as close to the bed as possible, he sat gingerly on the chair's edge, then gently held her hand in his.

Requiem: Scully floors Mulder with her pregnancy news.

bellefleur’s "Arms Wide Open"

I look over to see my partner's mother standing a few feet away from me, stock still and drained of color, with her hand covering her mouth. It's takes me a minute, but as I register the fact that her first sight was of me sitting in the hallway with my head in my hands, and then with obvious tear tracks on my face, I begin to comprehend her reaction. She must have immediately thought the worst.

Requiem: Mulder hears the news from Scully; and panics, fleeing the room. Maggie helps him get his head in the game. 

dmwones's Anagrams

"We can attempt to stabilize Dana for as long as possible. Give her blood transfusions, and corticosteroids. One to treat the low platelets, the other to help the fetus' lungs mature. But it's not a cure. Her body is under duress and HELLP syndrome is life-threatening. We can maybe buy a few extra days. But you're going to have to make a decision."

Requiem: In one of many AUs, Mulder is never abducted; but Scully and their baby still suffer complications.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[hellinhawkins]

please reblog this with some of your stranger things 5 theories (this can be for the plot, relationships, anything! I’m curious :)

some of mine below the cut!

these aren’t really theories more than just a brief outline of how I’m sort of thinking everything will go down, but I needed to share some thoughts

I wouldn’t be surprised if the show ends on a hint that the upside down is still alive (a demobat flying, lightning in the red sky, a demodog in a trashcan or something along those lines)

honestly I’m sure that holly is being used as bait. that script maya leaked months ago (did we ever decide that was real?) mentioned kids a few times- given the many many ways vecna is compared to freddy krueger, I’m almost sure that he’s luring her (and possibly others) as bait or for strength

as far as byler goes I’m sure that they’re going to be an important topic this season (I also know that the duffers will try and keep things obvious).

I don’t think mileven will split up in a chill and non-heated argument (they clearly aren’t on speaking terms and el is mad. they’re not on the same page AT ALL. and this could just be me but if I were el, whether I loved him like that or not, to find out he didn’t at all and knew it? yeah, I’d definitely be pissed. I’m sure that they’re going to argue. bad.

will and mike are going to hopefully have some sweet scenes! they always have the emotional ones while mileven has the rushed confessions that you can hardly enjoy. I think it’ll become more obvious to the ga (the ones with media literacy) around episode five, give or take. close to the end they’ll get together. probably through an argument.

(I could talk about this all day but to keep it simple I imagine they’re going to argue and someone will say ‘why do you care so much’ ‘because I love you!’ and right then vecna will strike or something will happen and it won’t be addressed again until the end)

I’ll end that there, if anyone wants to hear some more please send an ask ❤️

[writersmacchiato]

family ties | Gerard Pitts

warning but not really; mentions/alludes to bad home life for reader :(((( but it’s honestly nothing explicitly stated <3 not proof read!!

sidenote: for everyone in the winter season (happy first day of winter btw!!!), I so recommend finding a sunny spot outside and sitting out there with a blanket and a hot drink and soak in the sun.

. . .

Gerard Pitts happens to stumble upon you while you’re sitting on the back steps of the school. A warm blanket draped over you shoulders and protecting you from the chill. The sunlight washes over you in a glow and his heart skips a beat at the beauty you are.

A steaming cup of something rests in your hands, your eyes transfixed on nothing in particular but the cloudless blue sky above you.

Your face is blank, giving nothing away.

Well, to anyone that wasn’t him but he knows you, doesn’t he?

He notices the slump of your shoulders, marring your usual prefect posture. The slight down curve of your lips, the slightest of tension between your brows.

You’re upset and stewing in it.

“Good morning.” He approaches loudly, steps crunching on gravel to announce his presence first.

“Good morning, Pitts.” To your credit, your small smile seems genuine enough so he takes a seat beside you. Arms almost touching, but he doesn’t close the distance. Not yet.

“Lovely morning.” He says, cupping his hands to blow hot air into them. It is very chilly, but the frost covering the ground and trees was beautiful. He could see why you came here often.

You hum in agreement, otherwise motionless from the small sips from your cup.

“How is the family?” He decides to stop beating around the bush.

It’s not a secret, at least to him, that you struggle with the time spent with your family. And that you had a dinner with them yesterday.

You make a noise, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “Oh, just the usual dinner and show.”

“And, your sister?”

At the mention of her, you slump against his side, head leaning on his shoulder. Letting out a long groan that makes him laugh.

“The usual, then?” He supplies when you take to silence once more.

He knows that you sit with your thoughts and feelings too much, let them fester within unspoken until it becomes too much. He’s also learning how to slowly creep out the feelings, how to spin the words out. Knows that you trust him in a way you haven’t had before.

“The fucking usual.” You pause, before the words spill out in a sudden rush. “She’s just so… mean! She’s mean all the time! And if I ever try to say anything, she gets mad at me. It’s exhausting being around her because I never know if she will strike out or be nice.”

Pitts moves his arm to wrap around you, in a one sided hug. He’s met your sister and knows how cruel she can be, both intentionally and unintentionally.

“And, then winter break is coming up and I don’t want to be home at all. I hate it there. My parents are already so… them. And my sister is in an extra horrible mood. It will be torture.”

“You know, you’re always welcome to come home with me.” To me.

You allow yourself to indulge the fantasy. Having been to his family’s estate many times before. His mother is very welcoming and kind, his father is somewhat aloof and awkward but in a charming way.

The kitchen would smell like freshly baked cookies, the scent wafting through the house. You could curl up by the fireplace, reading anything you desired from their extensive library.

Traipsing through the woods around the estate, freshly fallen snow making it a winter wonderland. Building snowpeople and and trying to sneak a ball of snow down his coat. Hoping for the coldest temperatures so the pond will freeze frostily for ice-skating, hands numb from cold except where his hands hold yours.

Looking through his wardrobe, selecting his coziest sweaters to wear to bed. Running through the halls in wool socks and seeing who can slide the furthest.

Warm dinners with his family, gathered together. Watching the way the candlelight flickers over his face, sneaking glances and smiling when you catch him doing the same.

Maybe he would kiss you under the mistletoe. Because his family is the type to hang up mistletoe and he would pretend to be oblivious to the fact that he hung up the very plant you now stand under together and you would let him.

“I would like that very much, Gerard Pitts.”

[xx-narcissa]

just finished ‘kevin can f**k himself’

well i finished it a few days ago but i had to really let it marinate in my head.

overall, 7/10. i would recommend it if you like drama series or whatever. honestly idk what to compare it to because i think the show is very unique in the directing style but if anybody knows a show or movie similar to it then please let me know and hopefully i’ll be able to check it out.

more detailed review + spoilers below

okay so first impressions i really did not expect the rest of the show to go the way that it did but it was very interesting, although i will say the ending seemed rushed but im assuming that was due to the network and not necessarily the shows team.

i had a love hate relationship with allison. and by that i mean every time i started to like her she did something to make me hate her again😭 definitely i tried to be sympathetic of her situation and how it may make her act but she was still annoying at times and definitely if it weren’t for patty she would have gotten herself into a lot of trouble.

also i want to make sure i mention the directing style (if that’s what it’s called). the transitions from sitcom to drama were so great and honestly chilling. and it’s so fitting for how real life is. obviously not exactly but we all know at least one person where it’s like whenever they’re around they become the main character of some strange sitcom that’s all about them and the problems they make and how everyone else has to clean up behind them and their mistakes. if you don’t know anybody like this then i envy you because these people are draining 😭

but back to the actual contents of the show, patty definitely was my favorite character even from the very beginning. i also began to like neil in the latter half of the second season, where he finally began to realize kevin is not a true friend and wouldn’t care if he lives or dies. i think if the writers/producers had even just a little more time then they could have fleshed out that plot line even more, especially throwing peter into it as well and showing how everyone was slowly distancing themselves from kevin rather than just walking out and ghosting him, as we saw through allison’s struggles it’s not that easy whether you are a spouse, family, friend, partner, whatever.

i liked tammy and i liked her relationship with patty, trust i’ll almost always like a wlw relationship (as long as it’s not immoral in any way). however she was the same as allison in my eyes, where i have that love hate relationship with her. i appreciated that she cared for patty and made patty feel heard but i felt like tammy overstepped her boundaries way too often, just showing up and trying to push patty out of her comfort zone all the time. it’s healthy to encourage people to face their fears and whatnot but i think she just came off as pushy or possessive at times, especially when it came to allison. i understand she viewed allison as a bad influence but i don’t get why she felt so entitled to ‘protect’ patty. patty is a grown woman who has known allison for 15 years, so it was just crazy to me that tammy felt like she could come in and tell allison to stay away from patty as if she would understand their dynamic at all. and yes ik that patty and allison weren’t friends those 15 years but im still just trying to make the point that tammy was the outsider (and a fucking cop so did she really expect patty and allison to tell her every single thing all the time) so she really had no place acting that way in my opinion. she was also very rude with the whole “i don’t like you you’re not my friend” attitude. like no need to lie and sugarcoat it but you can at least fake it till you make it.

anyways enough about that i just felt a bit strongly about that point, mainly bc wlw representation is so hard to come by so i just get a bit upset when it doesn’t work well.

honestly idk why but i expected patty and allison to get together. i’m glad they didn’t though, i think they work better as friends. but also i couldn’t really understand allison’s motives at times. sometimes it felt like she was being purely selfish and treating everything like a transaction (not just with patty but with sam, diane, neil, and even kevin at times) but other times it seemed like she genuinely cared and wanted to help (mostly with patty but a little with diane and sam too). it was easy to tell that patty was genuine with allison and actually cared for her but i just could never tell if it was reciprocated so if anybody wants to give their two cents on that i’m all ears.

i wont even get into sam because i’ll get mad. all i’ll really say is i did not like his dynamic with allison at all. this is again where i could never tell if she was just selfish or actually cared about him (but with him im leaning more towards just being selfish). especially when he brought up that everything that they do it’s because she wants to. so yknow it’s whatever but i didn’t like it and this relationship contributed a lot to my dislike of allison as a main character.

i wont really get into pete or kevin either. pete is pretty one dimensional the whole time (in my opinion). and kevin was very one dimensional until we are able to see more into his destructive and manipulative side in season two, but even then there’s not much to work with until the very end (but like i said the ending needed more work so im trying not to touch on the subject too much).

i liked diane. i was confused at first bc i didn’t know that she was allison’s aunt so their relationship confused me. in the second season i definitely felt for her. the whole thing with neil caught me off guard but i guess they were both hurting or whatever. she was a fine character, not too remarkable but i didn’t hate her.

so overall, my main criticism would be the characters need work. not that they are ‘bad’ or poorly written or anything, i just don’t see any of them as necessarily relatable or likable except for patty (but that’s my opinion and you may have a different one!). and ofc i know that not every story needs to have relatable and likable characters but i think that it helps you hook and maintain an audience.

but i think that that issue definitely is squashed by the great story and direction. idk the circumstances of the show, if it was always meant to be two seasons or if they got cut short idk. if they made a third season i honestly don’t know what else they could have had happen so while i think the ending could have been fleshed out more, i don’t think there was a need for another 8 episodes. THAT BEING SAID, i did love what we were given. as mentioned earlier i loved the contrast between sitcom and drama where not only did the show change cinematically but also the characters in the scene changed the way they acted depending on if kevin was present and i think that that was super interesting and a very unique concept that i personally have never seen before. the plot line could use a couple tweaks here and there but i am no show runner or script writer so please take that sentiment with a grain of salt.

okay, this review is long enough. bye now drink water be safe and ladies carry pepper spray and maybe learn a self defense move or two 🫡

[riptunezune]

My hcs of Clovis x Child of Aphrodite Pt.2

*reminder: CoA (child of Aphrodite, any gender but in this case mostly female)

*** TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of SA on bullets 8-11***

Love languages: Clovis’s is acts of services (based off the impression I get from the series) and the CoA’s are words of affirmation and quality time. Both have a common love language of physical touch (Clovis gets anxious when it comes to physical touch because he’s not sure if he’s holding their hand or doing anything affectionate right except hugs and snuggling- he feels confident in that, CoA is nervous because they don’t want to make Clovis feel rushed or really uncomfortable. It took them 3 weeks to hold hands when they started dating).

Clovis did find a way to put CoA to sleep through kisses (foreheads mostly) but only does it to avoid arguments or certain topics which he rarely does

CoA can adjust their height be around Clovis’s height or a head taller than him depending on their mood/outfit (including shoes), imo I don’t think Clovis really cares but if someone does point it out that the COA is taller. He puts his hand on their hip and pulls them closer to him and goes “I know and they’re all mine!”

Clovis is always prepared and does miraculously know what to do to get them comfortable if they’re sick or have period cramps/body aches without needing to be asked~ sometimes what Clovis does is a lot better than what the CoA expects.

Both get along really well with each other’s family outside of camp (CoA is best friends with Clovis’s mom who does teach her how to tell how Clovis is feeling if he’s being a distant; CoA’s dad views Clovis as one of his and does occasionally help Clovis out if CoA is being a little toxic-I feel that their start of/parts of the relationship does get a little abusive/ one sided from an outsider’s pov but also both are dating someone that’s different from their personalities

They do get along with Clovis’ paternal half siblings at camp who have helped them learn more about Clovis in exchange for other favors involving their (Clovis’ siblings’) personal dating lives but also they just wanted Clovis to get into a relationship so they can easily bend some of the rules for their own relationship benefits without Clovis lecturing them the importance of privacy and boundaries esp when the Hypnos kids have full control of themselves in the dreamscape world as well as teaching them how to use their powers in the dreamscape world (Clovis may seem chill all the time, but when it comes to teaching his siblings about their powers, he’s a bit strict only because he really cares about them and doesn’t want them to get themselves into trouble)

Both Clovis and CoA took time to learn more about each other through each other’s mortal parent: CoA learned Clovis’s fav baked good and which foods triggers him to sleep~narcolepsy and Clovis learned their fav drink order, favorite authors, and their favorite materials to use when making their own bags~which many assume it was a customized purchase, not handmade (I like to think that before Clovis and CoA made it official, both their mortal parents shipped them after a traumatic experience-outside of camp (long story).

The reason why the CoA got interested in Clovis is because he saved them from an attempt SA attack from their “then” boyfriend who wouldn’t take no for an answer (Clovis had to fully body cover them). Clovis had a few bad bruises while CoA had a few scratches and this is where his fractures come in and hand feeding-this event occurred near the end of the school year to the start of summer, I also like to think this is where Clovis is a seasonal camper instead of full year round/if he is a year round, then this is one of the few weeks of each month that Clovis visits his mom and coincidentally ran into CoA being attacked.

They (CoA) felt extremely guilty and worried for Clovis , who told them it was no big deal and it’s not their fault. Clovis also secretly took vengeance for CoA, their “then” bf got punished in court (they appeared court looking really awful like weeks without sleep due some “gruesome nightmares”) and court gave CoA a restraining order against their ex.

CoA and Clovis started hanging around each other’s place before camp because Clovis needed a bit of help getting around with some upper extremity limitations and CoA needed to be reassured that Clovis was still okay and felt that helping Clovis out made them feel less guily and better plus they just felt really safe with Clovis after what happened (CoA’s dad is really grateful for Clovis’s actions and occasionally allows Clovis to sleep over on the couch since his presence does help CoA sleep better-sometimes CoA sneaks in hugs/snuggles just to help with the reoccurring nightmares of the trauma, and at camp sometimes Clovis and CoA meet in the dreamworld when CoA needs someone to talk to as well as helping them process the traumatic experience; post trauma after healing- they just wanted Clovis’ company).

Chiron was informed by both Clovis’ and CoA’s parents of what happened and made sure that CoA is well supported (even their maternal half siblings at camp were very supportive and shocked that Clovis was the one who saved her, but had a whole new level of respect for him). Clovis was more grateful that he could stay in his bed and sleep a bit longer, but still had to have someone from Apollo’s cabin to check his healing progress (Half the Apollo’s cabin weren’t surprise when they got together due to CoA pestering them multiple times to check if Clovis is okay).

When Clovis was in the infirmary for a couple of weeks before he was allowed to just heal at his own cabin, he always had the privacy curtains drawn before the CoA could feed him~which they hated with a burning passion but also decided to put up with it if it that’s what makes Clovis feel at ease (Clovis was mainly doing it thinking that he was doing the CoA a favor for their reputation but it actually made the CoA feel like they have to be keep their friendship a secret and feel that Clovis might be a little embarrass about them )

Before they got together, Clovis had the CoA really think about the relationship and if they really did like him or it was just his actions that they like (trauma bonding) and he told them that no matter what the decision, they make, he will always support them.

Clovis did manipulate the CoA’s dreams once to consider other people to date/encouraged the CoA to try to date other people in concerns that their feelings for him might’ve only been temporary but that backfired horribly- Clovis never did that again (he thought he was doing it in the best interests of CoA but instead the next day he got requests from Mitchell and half of the Aphrodite Cabin to fix it ~CoA refused to sleep for a few nights which ofc affected the other children of Aphrodite from getting good sleep)

*saw this from an ig post (link below if curious) and felt inspired to have CoA who likes to adjust their height to be taller than their normal height plus I just felt like it’s something Clovis and a CoA would wear

Link: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1HFmYpO38x/?igsh=ZXZlY3R1NXRzbmYw

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by DanScarf (@dan_scarf_)

Part 1

[onelastskip]

Just out of curiosity, how many MCs did you make for Keyframes? Can you tell us a bit about them? I'm interested to know :D

OMGGG HAIII!!!

Technicallyyy 4? I played through the game on all seasons but my other MCs aren't as fleshed out (and I haven't drawn them...) — but I'll talk about what I have anyway!

So obviously Chi was my first baby girl, autumn, romancing Percy straight away, I yap about her a lot already but here's a fun fact I haven't mentioned yet, her full name is Chi Huệ Aubade, very cool!

My next mc was Mika (she's sort recycled from olba, sorta not because I hate the idea of being unfaithful to cove, idk if that makes sense just the way my brain works) she's a summer and... well I was supposed to romance Elio... but then the Percy summer meeting hit me like a truck and I went for him again... now she probably won't get fleshed out but I'm thinking of doing a male mc elio summer run (for real this time, no percy shenanigans)

And then I have my spring mc, Nari, and- I will admit I was very close to reromancing Percy but no! they are a Jamie romance (slowwburn tho) cause I found the cupcake confrontation was so good with a spring personality. So they're uh, well to describe them, in a word, they're self-assured (technically two but semantics). They're extremely competent and they know it, they have a big ego and tend to be overconfident, brash and competitive. Andd they also have a crippling fear of emotional connection and an avoidant attachment style. love my little guys who are so smart yet so very stupid. Anyway their dynamic with Jamie is sort of teasing? They were expecting to be annoyed by him bcos of his reputation but they ended up liking him more than they thought. They have a sort of "people disappoint me" expectation, a lot of the friends and relationships they've had in the past were shallow (not for lack of trying? but nari really didn't put any effort in) they only really mesh with deja and cam and don't even try to form deeper relationships with others, the boys are the first friends they've made in a while, and their first time besides with cam and deja actually trying to connect with people. They're an ISTJ and fun fact about them theyyy are very good at chess.

And lastly my winter mc, Yumi (name pending.) they're my no romance route (or slowburn? it depends how it plays out I guess). They're... to describe them in one word. Chill (lol). They're an artist turned law student and they are very go with the flow. They are also doing a minor of sociology! They stopped painting in their last year of highschool because they were told they needed to start taking things seriously (they had pretty bad-average grades before). While they're generally patient and relaxed, when they do get angry, they are no holds barred, cussing out authority figures, not a single thought in that brain, they get very passionate when they're being confrontational. They're an INTP and fun fact about them they know how to skateboard.

WAIIIIT- I'M GONNA USE THIS ASK TO YAP ABOUT THE ENNEAGRAM (sorry anon my attention span is kinda fucked, ADHD ramble incoming)

Okay I've mentioned before Chi's a 2w3, little lore drop, she's got family issues (eldest daughter in an asian family /hj) but yeah there's a lot of pressure from that direction, that's part why she's doing a law degree (polisci? I forget how it is in america), she was rushed into picking a degree and just went with what she was best at. Anyway I should probably explain the enneagram oops, OKAY, so she has a type 2 fixation, which basically means, she's got a gaping hole where her self esteem is and she tries to patch that up by creating relationships (people pleaser...), that's why she tries to be as helpful as possible all the time, she's got a deep seated fear of abandonment and feels like she can only be loved if she's providing some sort of support (usually as an emotional dumping ground) to the other person.

Buttt, thankfully when she got to college she met Deja and Cam, who did NOT fuck with that kinda behaviour so she's slowly getting better, I imagine over the course of her time at college she gets better at loving herself and sets boundaries with her parents, fixes the relationship (the other drama is she has younger siblings who are still with them and yeah) idk I just like writing character arcs like this it helps me understand my ocs better I think

onto my other mcsss:

uhh Mika's a 7w8, but I'm gonna skip her since she'll probably get reworked into something else anywayyy

so Nari has a type 5 fixation, their whole deal is they need to feel competent, need to feel like they understand the world around them because it's a scary place and if something doesn't fit in with the way they understand things that means they understand nothing. Anyway, their little character arc would actually be centred on the relationship, it's a story about them accepting emotional vulnerability, letting down their walls, losing their rigid world view, and choosing to trust in another person and fall in love :3

Yumi (name pending) has a type 9 fixation, their problem is... well basically, on the surface, they're confident, calm, collected, composed (heh alliteration), they really seem like they've got it all together but internally they've resigned themself to being another cog in the machine. They've lost their passion in life and they're stuck in the pit of "it is what it is". Their character arc would probably involve them dropping out of college and pursuing something they actually care about, that being art.

[abyssal-ali]

'tis the damn season

Pairing: Luka Couffaine x Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Rating: T | Ao3 | Masterlist

WC: 3.8k

A/N: For my wonderful Twinsie @wildbookcat 💜 Beta'd by @sneksnacc

Tiny flakes of powdery snow danced through the air, carried around by the whims of the wind. Luka envied their carelessness. Somehow, he had ended up at the Charles de Gaulle International Airport, waiting for his high school ex-girlfriend, who was also his little sister’s best friend, and thus someone he couldn’t avoid.

It wasn’t even that he was still heartbroken about the end of their ill-fated relationship (lie), or that they had ended on bad terms (was both parties being broken-hearted and depressed for the next several months ‘bad terms’?), the issue was that he didn’t know how Marinette was going to react.

They were now both adults, had a collective handful of ended relationships under their belts, and were mature enough to look past that summer, right?

Another gust of wind blew through the man-made wind tunnel–aka the main doors exiting the airport–and caused a shiver to go down Luka’s back. He was still affected by his reptilian Miraculous, though he’d returned it after Hawkmoth had been defeated seven years ago. He wondered how Marinette would deal with the snow and chill when she arrived, since she was even more attuned to her Miraculous than he had been, and she continued to wield the gems occasionally. Ladybugs didn’t like the cold either.

The doors slid open, another batch of travellers entering the snowy grey afternoon with a shiver.

A pink pom-pom caught his eye, and Luka stepped out of the car to wave at its owner.

“Marinette!”

Her head turned to him, surprise overtaking her features, before being replaced by a smile. “Luka!”

Her cheeks were already flushing pink, matching her coat and hat, Luka noticed when she stepped back from la bise. He picked up her suitcase, slung her bag over his arm, and motioned towards his blue VW Golf.

“Your parents were busy with the holiday rush, so they asked me to come get you when I was over there saying hi yesterday,” Luka explained, getting into the driver’s seat once he’d stored her things in the hatch.

“Couldn’t stay away from their pain au chocolat, huh?” Marinette teased him easily.

Luka exhaled soundlessly as he pulled away. Maybe this would go okay, after all.

“You know it. So, how long are you here for?”

Marinette settled back in her seat. “I’m not actually sure. I want something new, but old…no, familiar, at the same time.”

Luka hummed. “I hope you find it.”

“Thanks. So, why are you here? It’s been a while since either of us were in Paris,” she commented, blowing hot air on the window and doodling hearts and smiles with her fingertip.

“I thought it was time. Haven’t seen Ma and Juleka in a while, and I have friends here I wanted to catch up with. I’m currently on a break from producing, so I figured now was as good a time as any.”

“Right,” Marinette agreed. “It’s nice to see you again.”

And now the awkwardness was seeping through the car.

“You too; it’s been awhile,” he said softly. “I’m always happy to see you.”

Even if it hurts when I don’t.

Her gaze darted down to her mittenless hands, fidgeting with her short, buffed nails. Luka could see the calluses from being constantly pricked on the pads of her fingers; a thin red scrape on the side of her hand likely came from brushing against a pincushion the wrong way.

The snowflakes had gradually become larger and more frequent, so Luka turned on the wipers.

“So, I saw you snagged the honour of designing Clara’s outfit for the Grammys next year,” he commented to break the silence.

Usually, he was fine with silence, especially around Marinette, who often needed it, but right now he was acting very unlike himself. Coming back to Paris had stirred up all these old feelings and actions, and he cursed it in his mind.

“Yeah. I’m hoping coming back here will provide some inspiration. I want to pay homage to her roots,” Marinette explained. “We could go for a drive around all our old haunts, maybe. Oh, but you’ll probably be busy, sorry. I can drive around.”

“I’m not that busy.” He blurted the words before he thought. “You still don’t have a license, right? I don’t mind being your chauffeur.”

The snowflakes appeared to have come from Marinette’s sparkling eyes. “Thank you, Luka!” She watched him drive in silence for a while. “You haven’t really changed, even though you’re famous.”

He flicked a glance at her, slowing down for a red light. “You think so?”

She nodded. “You look older now, because you are, obviously, and your image-controlling people have changed your appearance somewhat, but at your core you’re still the same Luka I know from seven years ago.”

The light turned green, and Luka wondered if it was a sign for one delusional second before he pressed the gas again.

“Is that a compliment or not, Mari?” he asked, settling for a teasing inquisition instead.

‘It’s a good thing!” she insisted. “Okay, you’ve matured, but your essence is the same. You’re like…like a nice red wine! Aging improves a good thing!”

“Oh, so you’re calling me old now?”

Mari sputtered. “That’s not what I said at all! And men say women take things too seriously! Pfft!”

Luka couldn’t hold back his laugh as Marinette crossed her arms, her puffy jacket turning her into  a cocoon of pink.

“I know what you meant, Mari; thank you for the compliment.”

She sniffed at the traces of humour in his penitent tone, but uncurled her arms.

“There’s the bakery. We should just have missed the closing rush,” Luka glanced at the clock on the dashboard. “Have a good time, Marinette.”

“Thank you, you too! Oh, you can text me when you want to go for a drive. I still use the same number.”

“0-474-152-772?”

A wave of pink coated her cheeks. “You still remember it?”

I stare at it for a good half hour every week debating calling you or not. Of course I know it; it’s seared into my memory.

“Yep. I kept my old number too.” He popped the trunk and lifted her bags out.

“0-516-352-772?”

“Yep. Say hi to your parents for me!” 

He placed her bags just inside the door, and then beat a hasty retreat. Why do you still remember my number? 

~~~

How could she forget his number, when it spelled out her name?

Marinette sighed, waved goodbye at Luka’s car, then shut the door, ready to greet her parents.

“Maman! Papa! Guess who’s home!”

“Marinette! Sweetie, you made it!” Once the overwhelming hugs and bises had been exchanged, her parents looked curiously at the empty space behind her. “Luka got you here safely?” asked Sabine.

Mari nodded. “He was waiting for me at the airport; he asked me to say hi to you for him. He said you were busy with the holiday rush.”

Tom agreed. “We were sorry to miss picking you up, but our seasonal helper was sick, so we weren’t able to close and get you after all. Luka coming by and being free was fortunate.”

“It was nice to catch up with him,” Mari agreed. “I’ll just bring my bags up to my room and then we can catch up while we make dinner?”

“That sounds good,” agreed Sabine. Tom brought the luggage up, then left Mari to settle in after one more hug.

Looking around her room, Mari smiled at the remembrance of all the memories she had made in the pink space. Pictures clothespinned to her wall of fairy lights danced in the breeze as she twirled, releasing a deep breath and closing her eyes at the peace of being home again.

She could feel the ideas coming for Clara’s outfits.

It was a brilliant idea to come back to Paris.

~~~

It was a horrible idea to come back to Paris.

Why had he said yes to picking Marinette up?

Why had he said yes to driving Marinette around?

Why had he answered her text as soon as she sent it, at 2:08 am?

Why had he showed up at her door at 7:30 am, why had he let Tom drag him to the kitchen and feed him pastries (okay, that one was self-explanatory), why had he lingered and chatted, why why why.

The answer to all his questions was sitting in the passenger seat of the car he was borrowing from a friend, looking devastatingly beautiful and chattering away about how things had changed since she had left, a year before he had, and contrasting it to Los Angeles.

If he’d wanted to hear about her failed relationships after she defeated Hawkmoth, broke up with him, and moved away, he would have asked.

Luka was well aware that he was sulking, but he didn’t care at this moment. They were driving by College Francois Dupont, and the memories of that time weren’t the most pleasant.

“Ooh, I have an idea! Can you park here? I want to walk around for a bit.”

Luka dutifully pulled over, parking in an empty space between the school and the Methodist church down the block.

Marinette strolled around the quiet street, the fluffy flakes floating down muffling her footsteps and muttered monologue. 

She returned to him eventually, scribbling away at her sketchbook.

Luka’s hand raised before he realised what he was doing. 

“Luka? What are you doing?”

He blinked down at her, his hand frozen as she glanced up at him from under her bangs.

“You, um, snow-”

Why was he making this awkward? Biting the bullet, he gently brushed the accumulated snow off the top of Marinette’s ponytail.

She flashed him a smile and climbed back into her seat.

“Where to next, Mari?”

~~~

“So, any plans for your break?” Mari clutched a mug of cocoa in her hands, careful not to drop it over the edge of her balcony on the head of some unsuspecting passersby out admiring the lights.

Luka leaned his back against the balcony, blowing on his own mug. “I haven’t made anything firm yet, but I expect my schedule will fill up rather quickly.”

Mari hummed. “I guess I should book our hangouts while you’ve still got room for me then, Mr. Hot-Demand.”

“I’ll always have room for you, Mari.”

She smiled at him before turning back to the cityscape. “I’ve missed this view.”

The real view nudged her shoulder. “Old memories coming back, huh? I’m glad you’re able to miss it, Mar.”

“Did you miss it?” She turned on her back to be companionably side-to-side with him.

“The city? Not so much. The people in it? Yeah, I missed them a lot.”

She nodded in understanding. “Did you miss the people who weren’t in it, too?”

He sipped his cocoa. “Everyday.”

~~~

Marinette opened her eyes, breathing deeply. There was nothing like a full ten hours of sleep in your childhood room, warm and cozy under blankets as the snow drifted by the window hypnotizingly, your secret love snuggled up beside you-

Oh yeah, she’d made Luka stay the night, saying it was too cold to walk back home as her excuse to have him sleep here. Her fingers brushed a teal lock back from his forehead as she took in his peaceful features. Honestly, they weren’t much different from his usual everyday expressions. She envied his calm, never being able to stay still for long. 

Luka shifted, blinking sleepily at her, a sleepy smile curving his lips. “Morning, Mari.”

His arm raised to trace a feather-light path down her cheek to cup her neck and pull her towards him.

She let him guide her closer, her breath catching in her throat.

“Mari, if you’re up, could you help out at the register for a bit?” called Sabine through the door.

Luka jerked away and Mari rolled out of bed with a thump. “Be there in a minute, Maman!”

“Are you okay?” he peeked over the edge of her mattress.

“Just fine,” she rubbed her behind. Luckily, the duvet had cushioned her fall.

“Er, sorry about that,” Luka ran his fingers through his messy locks.

“It’s fine,” she shrugged off the hurt, grabbing a pair of jeans and a flower-embroidered sweater off the back of her chaise. “Want me to save you anything for breakfast when I go down?”

“A quince pastry would be nice.”

“Got it. See you!” She fled down the stairs to the secondary powder room to change and twist her hair into a braid. Ready to suppress the feelings stoked by Luka’s earlier actions, she washed her hands and prepared to face the public.

Luka wandered downstairs a while later, looking neat and as if he hadn’t slept in her bed and almost greeted her with a kiss before they were interrupted and then ignored it. 

She could feel Sabine and Tom pause in their work as they took in the situation and incorrectly interpreted it.

“Oh, I thought we missed you leaving last night, Luka,” smiled Sabine. “Are you-”

“Here’s your pastry,” interrupted Marinette, thrusting the napkin-wrapped goods into Luka’s hand. “You’re lucky I saved you the last one.”

“Er, lucky, yeah. About that. Can I talk to you? Later, I guess, when you’re not busy,” he cast a glance at the blatantly listening bakers. 

“Sure. We can go for another drive in about an hour? Around one?”

“Sounds good, I’ll see you then. Bye, Tom, Sabine.” With a wave, he ducked out the door, leaving a bill in Marinette’s now-empty hands for the pastry.

She turned to her parents. “It’s not what it looks like. It was late and cold and I didn’t want him walking home in the snow-”

“Mhm,” Sabine raised a knowing brow. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Marinette shook her head. “Not yet.”

~~~

Luka shook his head, sending accumulated flurries flying off his hair. He’d had the most lovely dream, waking up to Marinette cosying up to him in his bed, smiling at him lovingly. Except it hadn’t been a dream, and he’d almost kissed her.

He was not going to go down the path they’d travelled in school, with the secrets and barriers between them. She still didn’t know he knew she was Ladybug and the Guardian, and she hadn’t told him. He wasn’t going to lie to himself; it hurt a little.

Realistically, he knew there were several reasons why she wouldn’t bring it up (not the least of which because she didn’t want to dredge up those traumas again) but emotionally, he was simply hurt by her still not trusting him with her identity even though she’d entrusted Sass and literal timelines to him.

Still, his therapist in the States had done him good. 

He was going to tell Marinette he knew on their drive this afternoon, get everything off his chest, and then leave it in her hands while he returned to LA and broke his heart over her for the last time. Yep, sounded like a good plan.

~~~

Marinette climbed into the car. Luka closed her door, crossed the front, and slid into the driver’s seat. 

“Where to?”

“I thought maybe we could just drive around this time, unless there’s somewhere you wanted to go?”

“No, that sounds fine.” He took a sip from the mocha she had supplied them with, humming appreciatively. “This is perfect; thanks, Mari.”

“You’re welcome.”

He started the car and pulled away. 

They drove in silence for a while, occasionally pointing out some place they and their friends had adventures at. 

Luka pointed at the tip of the Eiffel Tower. “That thing was destroyed more times than I can count.”

She made an agreeing noise, thinking back to some of the battles the Tower had seen. 

“Marinette, I need to talk about something with you.”

She nodded, looking at the un-Luka-like tension in his body language. “Okay.”

“I was Viperion, on the Miraculous team. I reset so many timelines. It was impossible not to know who my allies were, with all the mishaps occurring. I’ve known you were Ladybug for years.”

She stilled, breathing stuttering as old trauma resurfaced. Someone knew she was Ladybug, something bad happened.

Reminding herself that Hawkmoth was gone, she wasn’t Ladybug anymore, and she was safe, she regulated her breathing and thoughts. 

“I knew you were Ladybug when we were dating, and that your identity was why you were so hesitant to open up. I thought now would be a good time to tell you that you don’t have to keep that secret alone anymore.”

“Luka, I-”

“It’s okay, Mari. I didn’t hold it against you. After all, we were all kids. Just thought I could even the score before I leave, since we both know each other’s secret,” he muttered. 

“I- you-” she stuttered, falling silent as her thoughts whirled.

“I’m flying out tomorrow afternoon,” he broke the silence after a few minutes. “Don’t worry, I haven’t told another soul and I never will. But, if you ever want to talk about it…you have my number.”

She nodded, still processing. “Thank you, Luka. For- well, everything. I’m sorry for what I put you through.”

He gave her a smile meant to be reassuring and forgiving, but she knew it was fake. “Have a happy new year, Marinette.”

Strangely feeling like she’d been broken up with, she closed the car door and walked into the bakery, where her parents met her.

“Everything okay, sweetie?”

She shook her head. “I think I need to take you up on your offer to talk about it.”

~~~

Luka packed his suitcase methodically, thoughts with one person miles away.

He wasn’t quite sure what he’d expected when he’d told her he knew. 

Maybe for her to ask him out again since they had no secrets between them anymore? Okay, that was his wildest dream, but he supposed she hadn’t changed that much, still taking her time to process things. Not that he blamed her–having a magical emotional terrorist attacking your city didn’t exactly inspire impulsive actions regarding your feelings.

His therapist had told him that there were seasons in one’s life, and sometimes people were only meant to be with you for a season, like a flower. Others were like trees, there no matter the weather. He wanted her to be a tree, but maybe she was only a flower. Whatever she was, he’d always remember the beauty of her blooms and the sweetness of her perfume. 

“‘Tis the damn season,” he mumbled, slinging his guitar case over his back and picking up his suitcase.

He’d left her with a reminder of his phone number. Hoping she’d call him one day, he drove to the airport. He only realised he’d chosen the route that took him by the bakery as he passed it, peering in the window to catch a glimpse of Marinette working the register. 

~~~

Marinette wasn’t having a good day. She’d taken forever to fall asleep, tossing and turning as she stewed over Luka and her parents’ advice.

They’d understandably been surprised by her explanation of the inner workings of her and Luka’s short-lived relationship, but provided some valuable outside-perspective commentary.

After a fitful sleep, she’d been working the register while her parents worked on a rush-order of pastries, her mind consumed by thoughts of Luka.

“Here’s your change, ma’am. Have a happy new year!” Handing the coins over, she wiped her hands on her apron and tidied up the counter space.

Clean up complete, she ran upstairs to change into jeans, boots with Ladybug pom-poms, a turtleneck, and her favourite Viperion hoodie she’d worn thin.

She tossed a quick goodbye over her shoulder to her parents and ran out the door, waving her hand at an approaching taxi. 

“International airport, please,” she huffed, buckling her belt.

“Hope you’re not late for your flight, mademoiselle. The snow is slowing traffic,” said the driver.

Marinette clasped her hands to stop her nervous fidgeting, calling on all of Tikki’s luck that she’d arrive before Luka’s flight left. 

~~~ Luka wasn’t having a good day. He’d slept off and on, was leaving his first love behind, and now he couldn’t even do that because of the sudden snowstorm. All flights were postponed or cancelled for the time being.

So far his flight was only cancelled, so he found a comfortable piece of carpet to claim and began strumming an imaginary guitar while he waited for updates.

Snippets of lyrics floated through his brain as he composed a piece containing his feelings in the moment. 

“I won’t ask you to wait…if you don’t ask me to stay…” He hummed softly.

The sound of running feet made him look up, curious who thought they were late for a flight that wasn’t taking off.

“Marinette?” “Luka?”

She paused in front of him, catching her breath.

“Why are you here?” he asked cautiously, getting to his feet.

“To see you,” she panted. “Didn’t want you to go.”

His heart picked up pace as if he’d been the one running through the airport. “Really?” “Really. I want you. I have for years. Is there any way you can stay?” she asked softly.

“I’ll stay any way I can if you ask, Ma-ma-marinette,” he grinned. “I love you. I never stopped.”

She tiptoed to be face-to-face with him. “I love you too,” she whispered in his ear before greeting him with a soft kiss. It felt like home and the beginning of everything and the end of everything and the past and future all wrapped up into one amazing kiss in the present.

He cupped her face in his hands, resting his forehead on hers.

~~~

Luka drove them back to the bakery, keeping her hand entwined with his. They stepped into the entry, stomping snow off their boots. Sabine and Tom greeted them as if it was an everyday occurrence, though Marinette saw the happy spark in their eyes.

“Just in time for the party!” boomed Tom. “Dinner is ready; let’s sit!”

After a festive new year’s eve dinner and delicious buche, Luka and Marinette carried their flutes of champagne up to Marinette’s balcony to watch the firecrackers and revellers beneath them.

Chanting filled the air, little sparks in the distance showing where firecrackers had been set off.

“10! 9!” The countdown to the new year had begun.

“My new year’s resolution is to have the woman I love become my girlfriend. Will you be my girlfriend?” Luka asked.

“4!”

Marinette nodded vigorously. “Yes!”

“3! 2! 1!” 

Horns sounded, firecrackers popped, and hollers filled the air, but Marinette and Luka heard none of it, too wrapped up in each other. 

“Joyeuse annee, Luka.”

“Bonne annee, Marinette.”