#also gotta work a surprise open to close today again bc the closing manager called oooout

[analogwriting]

am i crying bc of my own writing? or am i crying bc im listening to fantasmas by humbe yet again? you decide

[howellingatthemoon]

is it your first time seeing a body I told him no he was like second? I was like no he seemed surprised.

Mr Howell, I always wonder why god always puts me in situations I don't like to be in. I know that life is always going to be a struggle but sometimes it feels like I'm targeted. I just got off of work I got out later because there was an incident today. I was cleaning and saw a Hispanic man and his wife standing outside the bathroom worried and I asked them if they were okay if they were lost and he started explaining that he saw a man on the floor and he wasn't responding I went in bc my coworker was in there he's a kid around my age the man was just laying in his back with his eyes open. Since it was a night shift my other coworkers are Hispanic older women they only speak Spanish

She called 911 and my manager was on call with them as well I had to be in there to translate while she was trying to help the kid flip on his side. I'm worried about the kid he's still in high school ik that must of been really hard on him I wanted to be strong and try to give the man cpr but he was much much bigger then me the kid (my coworker) he's much much taller then me so he tried his best. In my live I've had to see a lot of ppl pass away and be in rooms with ppl who have passed, when I walked in the bathroom I already knew the man had passed away he was stiff and the color was leaving his skin his eyes were open as well, nobody wanted to touch him to check everyone was scared. Even though I've seen it many times every time will always feel like the first. Usually I'm able to keep my cool but this time I couldn't. After the paramedics got there I stepped out I had to go translate again and then later that day I started to tear up it brought up a lot of memories I tried to forget about my oldest sister when we were in the hospital. My boy was there he stayed with me the whole time I pulled my self together and went back to work had to talk to some customers bc they kept coming asking why we were closed had to smile at people act like nothing like I always do my manger seemed concerned and kept asking me if I was okay, I told him I was and he was like is it your first time seeing a body I told him no he was like second? I was like no he seemed surprised.

I don't want to go to school tomorrow but its only the second day of school itjust started. I gotta man up tho take a deep breath and smile like always do

I came home late explained to my mom why I got out later and then had to argue bc of my sister always argues and bc of other stuff. They always think of me as a strong person that stuff like this doesn't affect me. I figure part of it is also my fault I always act like stuff like this doesn't affect me I usually let things pile up and then fall apart...

I think I'm falling apart.

[datleggy]

Totally random thought I had right as I am going to bed but ya know that show "I didn't know I was pregnant"? Buck would be on that show lol the boy is oblivious when it comes to his own body, so like I can perfectly picture him collapsing on the job one day wracked with pain, and then Hen is poking around his stomach where it hurts, her, Buck and Eddie packed into the back of the ambulance as Chim and Bobby drive to the hospital, and she gets out the stethoscope to try and listen for internal bleeding or anything but instead finds an infant heartrate and she's like "Buck, you're pregnant?" And he's like "uh, no? What the hell?" And then his water breaks and he tries to convince hen and Eddie that he had an accident bc even that would be a better alternative to suddenly figuring out he's about to have a baby???? What the fuck???? But Eddie holds his hand all the way through it and by the time they get to the hospital, Buck has a healthy newborn cradled against his chest, Eddie knelt beside him and alternating between kissing buck and the baby on the head, and observing the baby in disbelief. I can also picture Buck like, sobbing his sorry's to Eddie the entire time he's pushing, like "Eddie I swear I had no idea, if I had known, I would have told you!" And Eddie is just reassuring him the entire time like "don't worry about that now, Buck, just concentrate. No one is mad, okay? But you gotta focus on the- on the baby" and buck just sobs and nods and focuses on the delivery again. But for a good while Buck is in denial that any of this is happening and it takes a lot of convincing and encouragement from both hen and Eddie for him to start actively participating in his baby's birth. Anyways, random half asleep thought is finished sorry for the long ask hdshsjjsjdbsjsj

WELL SHIT ok so i actually love that show and i could see buck doing this lmao so i wrote a thing. also ignore all medical inaccuracies, this is my distraction from monday lmao let me have this wildly inept fic pls. 

also just in case, it’s pretty brief, i think, but TW for talk of weight and weight gain

It's nearing the end of their shift now and Buck can almost hear his feet howling at him in pain. Today hadn't even really been all that busy, he thinks, annoyed at his own body's betrayal. He's not even thirty yet, but in the last couple of months he's felt as though he's aged about ten years.

He's put on a few pounds, which isn't too uncommon, sometimes Buck goes through stretches of time where he eats more carbs than he needs and works out less than he'd like and so a little tummy fat is to be expected.

It normally doesn't bother him, except that in the last maybe three months he hasn't felt like exercising much outside of work but he's eaten nearly everything in sight every night. He's up about fifteen pounds, which he wouldn't have even noticed, seeing that he does fluctuate at times anywhere between five to eight pounds over or under what he usually weighs, if it hadn't been for Chimney teasing him about putting down his third Krispy Kreme donut of the day and picking up a barbell earlier this morning.

Chim and Buck poke fun at each other all the time--it's a staple in their friendship and brother ship, in fact--and Buck had flipped him the bird, nothing new there. What had been new was the fact that he'd excused himself to the bathroom right after that and locked himself in a stall and bawled his eyes out as quietly as humanly possible.

Buck grimaces, embarrassed still, by the outburst, even if no one had been there to witness it. He still has no idea what the hell that had been about this morning.

Eddie notices the sour mood and pulls him in close. "Hey, you ok?"

Buck nods. "Yeah, just tired. Ready to go home--shit." Buck feels a shooting pain so intense his knees buckle and Eddie has to hold him upright to keep him from hitting the floor. 

“Woah!” Eddie calls Bobby over, who’s closest, for help, “Buck? Buck, you with me? What’s wrong? What hurts?” 

Buck just shakes his head and grits his teeth, the pain so debilitating he can hardly breathe much less speak. 

The Captain is on his other side in an instant and together Eddie and Bobby help Buck towards the couch, where he collapses in a heap, throwing his head back and letting out an agonized whine. “What’s going on? Did he get hurt during one of the calls?” Bobby asks Eddie, frantic to help put a stop to this. 

Eddie’s helpless, “Bobby I don’t know, one second we were talking about going home and the next he practically fell to the floor in pain.” he turns to face his husband, “Baby, I’m here, look at me, what’s the matter? What hurts?” 

Buck’s face scrunches up and he finally exhales sharply, his grip on the couch cushions loosening, and he opens his eyes, wide like saucers, and says, “What the fuck was that?” 

At this point Hen and Chim, as well as half the crew, have gathered around and Hen is quick to put on her doctors hat and try to sus out the problem. She makes Bobby step aside and Chimney hands her a stethoscope. “Buck, is it your stomach?” she asks, noticing the stiff way he’s holding himself around his midriff. 

“I don’t--kinda? I don’t know. It was just like, this crazy wave of pain, almost like a cramp, but way worse.” he struggles to describe the feeling now that it’s more or less passed for the time being.  

Hen had seen Buck wince when he’d been in the harness on the last call of the day, but he hadn’t said anything and she hadn’t thought too much about it until now. “Did you hurt yourself in the harness earlier? Maybe pulled something when we reeled you back up?” she asks, palpitating his stomach with her fingers, watching him almost retract from her touch. 

“Maybe?” Buck shrugs uncomfortably, wincing when she hits a particularly sore spot. 

Something about this feels familiar and strangely obvious, but Hen doesn’t understand why until she puts her stethoscope up to his belly to check for lack of bowel sounds, indicating maybe some internal bleeding or sorts. 

Hen gasps out loud and sits up like she’s been smacked. 

Eddie frowns. “What? What’s wrong? Is he gonna be ok?” He almost wants to snatch the damn stethoscope out of her ears and check for himself, his eyes darting between Hen and Buck nervously. 

“Buck, you’re pregnant. And in labor, by the sounds of it.” Hen blurts out in disbelief. 

“What.” Buck blinks at her, waiting for the other shoe to drop. This has to be a joke. 

“I heard a heartbeat in there...” Hen informs them, still awed. “Buck, that was a contraction you just experienced.” 

Eddie gapes at Hen and then at Buck. “You’re pregnant?” 

Buck gapes right back at him. “No!” he denies, shaking his head incredulously. “That’s insane, I can’t be pregn--ah--” Buck leans forward in pain as another contraction begins. “Fuck.” 

“Jesus, yeah, no you’re definitely pregnant,” Chim announces, “Your water just broke all over my favorite couch, bud. I’m getting the ambulance ready asap.” he says, before running to do just that, head reeling. He thinks about Maddie and when she gave birth to their daughter and how scared out of his mind he’d been and he sympathizes for Buck and Eddie, who up until now apparently hadn’t even realizes they were expecting... 

Back at the lounge Buck continues to deny any of this is even happening. He whines into Eddie’s chest, “That’s pee, it has to be, because I’m not pregnant. There’s no way.” he lets out a pitiful whimper as another contraction begins and buries his face against his husband to hide the tears springing up in his eyes. 

“Buck, son, we gotta get you to a hospital right now.” Bobby tries, running a soothing hand over the top of his head. 

But Buck shakes his head no, shuddering out a sob. “M’not going.” 

Eddie, overwhelmed, looks to Hen and Bobby for help. 

“Buck, ambulance is ready to go, we need to move unless you wanna have this kid at the firehouse.” Hen grimaces. “I know you’re in pain and I know you’re confused and hurting, but we need to get you into that ambulance and now.” 

Buck cries out when another contraction hits him and Hen gulps. “Your contractions are getting way too close together, we need to move.” she nods at her Captain and Eddie to help get Buck up and together the three of them manage to get Buck onto a gurney and into the waiting ambulance.

Bobby rides up front with Chimney, leaving Hen and Eddie to work in the back with Buck. 

“Buck, you need to start getting ready to push, this baby’s coming.” Hen warns him, but Buck refuses. 

“I can’t.” he sobs. “I didn’t--” he throws his head back, the pain lighting his nerves on fire. “I swear Eddie, I didn’t know. You gotta believe me.”

Eddie takes Bucks hand into his and brings it up to his lips. “I know baby, I know, you don’t have to worry about that. I promise. Nobody is mad at you, ok? I’m not. But right now you need to focus on pushing, you need to listen to Hen, ok? We’re ok, and you’re gonna be ok, but I need you to push, baby. I love you so much, you know that, right?” 

Buck lets Eddie wipe away his tears, leans into the comforting touch, and nods shakily, exhaling. “O-ok, I’m--I’m ready.” 

.

.

.

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

.

.

.

The baby is so very tiny in Eddie’s arms. 

Olive Buckley-Diaz is born weighing exactly six pounds and two ounces. 

Christopher, who’s curled up against Bucks side on the hospital bed after a very exhausting day, looks up at his Buck, his little brow still knitted in confusion. “So she was a surprise baby? And that’s how come you guys didn’t tell me about her?” 

Buck tries not to laugh. “Yeah bud, it was a huge surprise to us, too.” 

Eddie nods along, smiling fondly down at the bundle he’s holding. Her blotchy red face is slack in sleep and there’s already tufts of brown hair sticking up funnily on her head under her hat. “I still can’t believe you only gained like fifteen pounds during the whole pregnancy.” Eddie chuckles, “Or that you worked through the nine months, God Buck, when I think of the stunts you pulled during calls in the last few months alone I’m--” he shudders. “Actually I’d rather not think about it.” he sighs, “I’m just happy you’re both healthy at the end of the day.” 

Really, it’s a miracle. The doctor had said as much after the delivery. 

“To be fair I never got any of the other symptoms,” Buck shrugs. “I wasn’t nauseous, my feet never swelled, I don’t remember any weird cravings? And you said it yourself, I didn’t really gain all that much weight.” 

Eddie leans down to kiss Buck’s forehead. “You should be on that show.” he grins. 

Buck tilts his head. 

“You know the one, the one Hen made us watch when work was slow that one time. ‘I didn’t know I was pregnant’.” he teases. 

Buck groans. “I regret all the jokes I made at the time. I totally get those people now. Pregnancy is weird.” 

Christopher rests his head more comfortably against Bucks chest and smiles softly. “Yeah, but now our family’s even bigger.” 

.

[starrysupercell]

Sooo... Now that its my wif- Tara's birthday... Are the Mystics (And Bo) gonna celebrate it :D? I can imagine Gene trying to set up some kind of surprise party for her, that would remain a surprise for like 4 minutes...

DANG IT. Past 12. TwT

But here you go! An outline for how Tara’s birthday is celebrated this year. ���� best fortune teller in Starr Park tbh. Your wife says hi 💜

I really gotta start keeping track of the Birthdays to have these things planned out.

~

One of the many good things about how much time Tara and Gene have known each other, is he knows she'll figure it out.

The surprise for her will be not the fact that there's a party because she can easily see that, but the extent of it, because she can promise not to sneak a peek at it.

(But now she's curious! Also, she's so used to checking on the future,* it takes a very conscious effort to not do so.)

So, while Gene keeps Tara preoccupied by taking a walk around the Park, Sandy, the Tribe, Gale and Mortis (because they're also friends with the Mysticals bc of the skins, shush.) are in charge of decorating.

So, with only two responsible adults in this group, how well do you think this is going to go? :)

Gale: So do you have a plan for the setup?

Sandy: hm? >.o oh. Yy*yawns*eah. here you go... *hands him a paper*

Gale: ...this just has a rough sketch of the main room and a couple of balloons.

Sandy- mm..felt sleepy but there's still.... -.-...time to...zzzz....

Gale:

Mortis laughs because well they'd just have to wing it! (He would definitely ask Emz for help, but she's busy with the teen crew for plot convenience) As long as decorations are already bought, it should an easy thing in setting it up the way they want it to look.

....decorations are already bought, right?

Sandy softly snores, and the Party Crew realizes that's their answer.

~

Meanwhile, Gene and Tara walk through the Park. The plan is picking up a few extra gifts along the way before heading back to the main party.

Their first stop is Barley's for some drinks! He gifts one bottle of Tara’s preferred drink, but does charge for the rest. Along the way, we see Brawlers greeting Tara and wishing her well on her birthday.

Colette’s very enthusiastic! She knows all the Brawler’s birthdays, and wanted to make something for Tara!

She doesn’t really have extra money recently, since there was some recent change in management, and she usually makes more detailed items, but because of the money problem, couldn’t buy as many materials she needed, but she’s derailing, so she hands Tara her wrapped gift.

It’s a cute hand-made Shade Plush!

Tara is delighted and thanks her for it. It’s a pleasant surprise, and she appreciates it. Colette fangirls a bit, thanking her, and then waving bye as the Mystics carry on.

~

Back at the Bazaar, they're trying to brainstorm on what to do. Well, half of them present are. Sandy is asleep and Nita + Leon are playing around the house.

Mortis says the only things he has back home are.. well, decorations of a more... gothic type..you know,.. (Halloween decors. they’re Halloween decors.)

Gale also offers up... some Snowtel hangings, but again, ‘tis not quite the right season to be jolly.

Bo suggests makeshift decorations. The twins are good at crafts! .. but more so along the lines of forest materials, not sand and...

Everyone’s drawing a blank, and decide that they could gather up their own share of materials, and see what could work best. Their time limit won’t really allow a break after all.

So Gale contacts Lou and asks him if he could meet him halfway with everything he can carry. Try not to get caught by the Penguin boss. Lou, ever the chaotic good guy agrees.

Bo gathers up Leon and Nita and they head out to see what they can scrounge up.

Mortis wonders if he should call up Frank too since he’ll be here later to set up and provide the music, but decides to be ~generous~  and just send a flock of his Bats to pick some things up for him. He sees them off adoringly.

With a content sigh, he lounges back and waits for his precious lovelies to return with his ideal decorations. Sandy sleeps on...

~

Back with Gene and Tara, the next item to pick up is the cake. Piper has the order ready-- a black forest chateau cake.

“Magnificent taste, darlings!” she compliments. she has it all boxed up very fancily. “It’s on the house. Take it as my gift for you. Happy birthday!”

She’ll also be attending the party later. Tara thanks her for the cake. She and Gene then take their leave.

Along the way to their last stop at the new Castle environment for the food, (because while they don’t know Ash very well yet, Tara loves trying out the new items and pizza is always great for a party.)

“Hey, Tara! ...hold up.” Edgar jumps down from a building they’re passing, just because he can and . “...this is from the rest of the Gang. Me too, I guess. Happy birthday.”

~

The party squad are actually worse off than before.

The Shaman Tribe are back, and the Twins became interested in using fabrics to try and make something too. so they’re playing around with it pretty much.

Gale just arrived, with Lou joined along because he was interested in the party planning too. (So, the snowtel is understaffed right now.) but they’re just chatting instead of working.

Mortis’ bats haven’t arrived yet, and he’s getting worried. They don’t usually take this long in running errands for him.

Leon and Nita are practically playing catch right now. They knock over something that looked priceless. Oh, a crystal ball, perhaps. Bo reprimands them.

They haven’t gotten much closer to making up the room...

There’s a knock, and the group freezes because oh no, they’re out of time. but it ends up being Frank. A very unhappy Frank who was suddenly surrounded by screeching batties who kept picking apart the house while he was packing up his set up for the party. They followed him there afterwards, along with several things.

Mortis tries joking it off ;; , and then very quietly and off-handedly apologizes when Frank doesn’t find it very funny.

But then so hey!!! you’re here so decoration time, everybody! let’s hop to it!

Gene’s Lamp, Sliver, floats in. Sent by Gene himself to check on the progress. They were nearing after all. The Lamp’s alarmed by what it sees. That is, absolutely nothing.

It glares around, and spots Sandy still sleeping. Sliver floats over to him, and hops on him-- Wake up!

Sandy does so, but is very grumpy. “what?”

Tara’s Birthday.

“yeah? what about it?”

Don’t you care?

“obviously.” he swats at the lamp. “it’s tomorrow.”

>:( Today. It’s TODAY.

“,” Sandy looks around, as wide-eyed as he could be.

broken crystal ball, a mix of decorations, and nobody currently fixing up anything from the looks of it.

They’re on the way.

Sandy makes a face. “ok... game plan on the fly.”

~

The final stretch of the day out.

Gene and Tara are nearing the Bazaar, and along the way, Gene starts to get heartfelt.

He reminisces how they first met, how far they’ve traveled together, how much longer they’ve yet to go.

He wishes he could think of something to give her that meant something like the other gifts that she received that day.

He was a Genie, but after everything they’ve been through, she deserves much, much more than what he could ever imagine to conjure up for her.

Tara smiles. “(Don’t... put me on too high a pedestal, my Friend.”)

Don’t sell yourself short either. You’ve done so much.

“(Yes. I have.)” Tara muses unhappily, thumbing the doll.

Gene suddenly gets the idea of what his gift could be, but he needs his Lamp to start on it.

~

Right before the two opened the door, a pair of bats were hanging up the last decoration.

And when the two walked in with the final party supplies at hand and are amazed at the display.

intricate ice sculptures and a more snowy feel set up where the food would go. the music section where Frank set up (who was talking with Mortis.) had a darker aesthetic, including the balloons over there.

Lastly the rest of the place was decorated with very cute works of art. no doubt the Tribe kid’s handiwork. she recognized it from when they stayed over, and the gifts Bo’s gotten from them and shown her.

You’d think that the seemed like the mix of fancier silver decorations, a more gothic theme and natural crafts would look odd together... and well, it was quaint, but it was very pleasing to see.

a patchwork of oddities, not unlike this park, really. She’s always been fond of odds and ends. Tara loved it!

Sandy yawns and walks over to them. “we actually just got done with the set up. but if it makes you feel better, we can still hide right now and yell surprise.”

Tara laughs. It’s okay.. it isn’t like she could be-- but she appreciates it. Sandy shrugs, like he didn’t just call all the shots and work in a hurry with the other eight. “you’re welcome.”

Lou offers to help set up the food and cake. Gale helps too, after presenting his gift too.

Frank and Mortis notice the arrival of the Birthday Gal and wave her over. They chat animatedly-- it’s been so long since they’ve had the chance to catch up! They should plan something soon. Tara agrees, and their gift is from the both of them. I can see it being a very nice piece of clothing, though I’m drawing a blank as to what.

The Lamp reunites with Gene, and their perspectives merge again. Oh. the party was really cut close, huh? but it worked out well! what a relief. a scrap book of actual memories is what you have in mind? how very sappy.... She would like it.

Lastly, Bo walks up to Tara, greeting her and wishing her well on this day. He hopes she likes what they helped with ....he then has the Twins apologize for breaking a few things around the house--

Tara dismisses it easily. They can be replaced. The Twins, that is. (joke to scare them.) But really, as long as they were careful from now on, it was okay. the cub and chameleon agree with no hesitation and then run off to cause more mayhem, but quieter this time.

The Psychic smiles. The guests would be arriving soon, and it was already so lively.

Time to party~!

_______

*I’m still deciding on the extent of her powers, so future sight might not be a thing, because of the characterization I have for her. I’m thinking something along the lines of “Can see past events, and make very informed guesses based on what she knows about people, but cannot see the future itself.”

[seanfalco]

A New Beginning | 01. The Gallery Owner

Sean Falco x f!Reader

Word Count: 5.2k (oops got a little carried awayyyy) Prompt: Maybe Sean is trying to get his life back together after the events of the movie and that includes putting some of his prints up for sale, since he lost his job as a valet. Maybe reader is the owner of/works at the gallery showing his photos and he falls for her? But after everything he went through, he's scared to get too close? Requested by: @imagine-you-are​ a/n: Thank you for feeding my desire to write for Sean lol.  I’m not ready to start like another full on multi-chapter fic, but I do want to continue this story through more connected one-shots, since I already know the direction I want it to go lol.  (Also, I decided to keep Derek alive for this series, bc I like his character too much.)  Not sure how many people will be interested, but enjoy!

[ Masterlist ]

“Sean Falco, is it?” you asked, holding out your hand.  

The tall fellow with the mop of curly black hair and breathtaking emerald eyes you could easily get lost in stood quickly, taking your outstretched hand.

“That’s me,” he answered, grinning hesitantly, his lilting Irish accent taking you by surprise.

“You’re Irish?” you asked without thinking, the observation slipping out before you could stop it, hoping it wouldn’t seem rude, but he merely chuckled.

“Born and raised,” he answered, his grin widening as your eyes met and you felt a prick of disappointment as his hand slipped from yours.

“That’s so interesting,” you murmured distractedly, casually checking him out.  It wasn’t your fault he was distractingly good looking.  “What brought you to Portland, of all places?” you asked.

“Well, I moved over to the states with my mum when I was a teenager and then we ended up in Portland for my stepdad’s job,” he explained and you didn’t fail to notice his own subtly wandering gaze, warming your cheeks.

“But yeah, it’s uhm, a great city, lots of opportunities,” he continued.

“That it is,” you agreed, flashing him a smile as you pounced on the segue, reminding yourself why he was here in the first place.  “Which brings us to our meeting today,” you exclaimed, gesturing toward your office, “come on in.”

As you circled your desk Sean took a seat on the other side, folding his hands in his lap.

“So, I took a look at the portfolio you sent over and I gotta say, I’m really impressed.  Your work is just what I’ve been looking for, Mr. Falco.”

“Please, call me Sean,” he interjected, leaning forward, the excitement on his face plain as day at your praise.

“Sean,” you corrected with a grin, flipping through the prints he’d sent over earlier in the week, “you’ve really captured the heart of the city here.  Your photographs are so… genuine,” you murmured, a smile crossing your lips as your gaze lingered over them a moment longer.  “Which is why I think your work will be a great fit for our gallery.  I’d love to display your photographs in our next showing.  I have some collectors who I think will be really interested in what you have to offer.”

“That--that’s amazing,” Sean stuttered excitedly.

“The next show begins a couple weeks from now,” you continued, spinning your chair to glance at the calendar hanging behind your desk to confirm the date before spinning back to Sean once more.  Flashing a smile, you stood and he followed suit, taking your hand for another shake.

“I will, uhm, be in contact with you within a couple days with more information, and we’ll coordinate” you exclaimed, again feeling rather warm at the merest touch of his hand, and you nodded, stopping at your office door.

“Thank you for this opportunity, really,” he exclaimed, flashing you a somewhat dazed smile that managed to dazzle you in return.  

Shaking himself out of it with one last lingering glance he opened the door.  “Well, I--I’ll see you,“ he murmured and you waved, watching him as he slipped out the door.

As soon as he was gone you practically deflated into your chair, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, feeling rather giddy.

This is ridiculous, you told yourself, frowning slightly.  Stop acting like a high schooler with a crush.  You are a professional!  So what if Sean Falco is charming, and-and talented, and ugh, that accent -- pull yourself together [y/n].

It was no use, however, the rest of the day your mind kept returning to the handsome photographer and his dazzling smile at any opportunity, leaving you rather distracted and slightly frustrated.

——

“Derek, mate, you’re not gunna believe it!” Sean exclaimed excitedly, holding his phone to his ear as he wove in and out of traffic, his chest incredibly light.

“What’s up man?  Did they say yes?” 

“They sure as fuck did!” Sean laughed.

“Dude, I knew it!  I told you -- didn’t I tell you they’d be fools not to wanna show your photos?”

“That you did,” Sean agreed, a giddy grin splitting his face.  “But Derek, man, that’s not the whole of it.  You shoulda seen this girl, mate.”

“Girl?  What girl?”  Derek cut in, Sean knowing that would get his friend’s attention.

“The gallery owner, man, she--she’s gorgeous,” Sean insisted, letting his thoughts slip back to [y/n] and how she’d looked at him.

“Yeah?  What’s her name?” Derek pressed curiously, no doubt getting ready to Google her.

“[y/n],” Sean replied, rather dreamily, quickly catching himself and clearing his throat.

“Soooo, you gunna ask her out or what, man?” Derek asked, “I mean, it’s been like almost a year since Riley.  You gotta move on sometime and it sounds like you definitely got the hots for this [y/n],” he pointed out.

Pulling round behind his new place and parking his car, Sean got out, his breath hanging in the chill October air.  “I--I dunno,” he answered reluctantly, grabbing his messenger bag to sling over his shoulder before straightening and switching the phone to his other ear, digging for his apartment key in his pocket as he shut the car door with his elbow.

“I mean, she’s definitely beautiful, and smart, but--” 

“Hey, no buts, you gotta go for it.  You can’t just keep waiting for Riley to change her mind and take you back.  I mean, didn’t you say she’d moved on?”

“That’s not -- this isn’t because of Riley,” Sean insisted, pausing to unlock his door.  “I just… I don’t know if it’s such a good idea,” he finished lamely, knowing Derek wasn’t gunna just let it go.  “I mean, technically this is a business arrangement, I probably shouldn’t be mixing--”

“Oh no, no you don’t get to tease this and then talk yourself outta it, I’m not gunna let you, bro,” Derek exclaimed.  “When was the last time you even went on a date?  I mean, it won’t hurt to just talk to her.  Take a chance, man.”

Sighing, Sean shut his door and sank to his couch, covering his face with his free hand.  A chance, huh?  What if she got hurt because of him?

“Alright, alright, if I agree to…to talk to her, will you get off my back?” he asked instead.

“Yep, pretty much.”

Once he hung up the phone, Sean sank down farther into the couch with a groan.  Derek meant well, but how could Sean tell him the real reason he was hesitant to date was because he was still afraid that the people he cared about would eventually become targets because of his stupid past mistakes.  It was an irrational fear, he knew that.  Especially when Cale Erendriech was locked away in a federal prison somewhere and couldn’t hurt him anymore.  But still, the guilt haunted him.  

It was only a miracle Derek had even survived his encounter with Cale, barely hanging on to life, and lucky the paramedics had gotten there so fast.  With Riley, he hadn’t been so lucky.  Even after finding out the truth of what had happened and why, she’d wanted nothing more to do with him.  And though he still missed her from time to time, he had to admit their breakup stung much less now than it had a year ago.  The fact that his thoughts kept returning to the cute gallery director was proof of that.

For a moment he opened a new message, ready to input [y/n]’s number before closing out of it with a frown.  It was too soon, he’d only just met her, he’d at least give it a day, camouflaging the fact that he wanted to get to know her with the excuse of asking her more about the showing.

Yeah, yeah that’s what he’d do.

——

The next day you were still in bed when you phone buzzed with a new notification and you groaned, reaching blindly across your bedside table for your phone, forcing your eyes open to read your messages, expecting the usual work related correspondence, but when you read the name Sean Falco in the sent by field you scrambled up, nearly dropping your phone.

Hey, [y/n], I just wanted to follow up and thank you for taking the time to see me yesterday.  I’m just so honoured that you decided to accept my submission to your show.  I had a few questions actually, and wondered if it would be alright for me to send them your way?

Oh, you thought deflating slightly as you read through his message, it’s work related.  Of course, it’s work related, you idiot.  Flopping back against your pillows you held your phone above your face, reading over his message again.  You could almost hear his distinctive voice with each word.  He contacted you first though, that’s gotta mean something, you thought, giving your cheek a little slap to snap out of it.  Stop being foolish.

However, as you answered him a small smile stole across your face that kept returning throughout the day each time your phone buzzed with his replies, and soon you found that your conversation had taken a turn from work related to personal, amazing you with how easy it was to talk to him, your conversation carrying on throughout the next week and a half, chatting nearly constantly, often waking up to adorable good morning texts and random photos he’d taken during his day.

So, imagine your chagrin when you suddenly remembered the morning of, that you had a date that night… with someone else, nearly forgotten in your excitement of corresponding with Sean.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, you thought, rifling through your closet angrily.  You could cancel, you reminded yourself as you pulled out a little black dress, holding it up to your chest in the mirror, but this late it would be really rude, not to mention this was someone your father had set you up with.

I’ll just go, have a terrible time, and then move on with my life and never call them back, you told yourself with a nod.  And then you could tell your dad that you tried and it just wasn’t a good match.  Right, easy.

Cue your phone buzzing from your bed and you groaned, wishing you were meeting someone else, someone Irish and charming and -- don’t go there [y/n], you told yourself firmly, continuing to get ready.

——

Well, that really was terrible, you thought as you pushed open the pub door, stumbling slightly as you headed for the bar, intending to get incredibly sloshed and forget all about your disastrous date and that stupid misogynistic bastard you’d had to spend several wasted hours of your life across a table from.

As you hailed the bartender a voice at your elbow had your stomach flipping and you turned, barely believing your luck.

“[y/n]?  What’re you doin’ here?” 

“Sean, heyyy,” you answered with an easy grin as you turned to face him, not failing to notice the way his eyes quickly traveled over you, taking in your state of dress, lingering slightly before flicking back to your face.

“You look,” he paused letting out a low whistle as he grinned, somewhat stunned.  “What’s the occasion?” he asked, slipping onto the bar stool next to you.  “Y’almost look like you’ve just come from a--”

“A date?” you asked, finishing his sentence for him and his eyebrows rose.

“Yeah…” he answered, slowly, disappointment flashing across his face for a second, so fast you almost missed it.

“Well, that’s because I have.  It was awful, by the way,” you continued and his relieved smile that followed warmed you.

“What’re you having?” the bartender asked, having snuck up behind you while you were distracted and you turned to gape at him, thinking quickly.

“Uhhh, whiskey and coke,” you answered after a moment.

“Coming right up.”

“A whiskey girl, huh?” Sean asked, looking somewhat impressed and you felt your cheeks warm slightly.

“Always have been,” you answered and his grin widened.

“Irish whiskey?”

“I definitely like something Irish,” you murmured, realizing too late that the words had actually slipped out of your mouth instead of staying in your head, your face flaring hotter.  Shit shit shit.

Sean’s eyes widened momentarily, but before he could say anything the bartender returned with your drink and you quickly brought it to your lips as a distraction, thinking quickly.  

“So what’re you up to tonight, Sean?” you asked, not giving him a chance to comment on your slip up and he shrugged slightly.

“Came for a few beers after work,” he answered, a grin still playing at his lips as he watched you over the rim of his glass.

“Alone?” you asked and he nodded.  

“Fancy that, we’re both alone.  Wanna drink together?” he asked, motioning to an empty booth not far away.  “And you can tell me all about this disappointing date.”

“How d’you--?” you asked, frowning as you eyed him and he chuckled.  

“If it’d gone well, I doubt you’d be drowning your sorrows alone at the pub afterward,” he pointed out and you had to shrug in agreement.

“Very true,” you agreed, slipping off the stool to join him in the booth, amazed at how your luck had turned around so abruptly.  

“Y’know, I didn’t even want to go in the first place,” you explained, running your finger idly round the rim of your tumbler, carefully watching Sean’s expression, “It was this guy my dad wanted me to meet,” you continued, rolling your eyes.  “I’d completely forgotten about it until this morning.”

“And just what was so terrible about this fella?” Sean asked, leaning forward to rest his elbow on the table.

He wasn’t you.  “What wasn’t?” you scoffed, taking a sip of your drink and shaking your head, watching out of the corner of your eye as Sean’s grin widened.  “He was a self important, condescending, misogynistic prick,” you exclaimed, frustration lacing your voice as you remembered how he’d treated you.  

“First of all, he ordered for me, as if I wasn’t capable of deciding what I wanted, not that it would’ve mattered, because no matter what it was, I would’ve chosen wrong, because my taste isn’t refined enough.  It wasn’t even good, by the way,” you added, pointing at Sean, who raised his eyebrows, amusement dancing across his face.  “And then, then!” you scoffed, “it was as if I knew absolutely nothing about art, like I hadn’t studied it damn near my whole life.  He barely even gave me room to get a word in edgewise,” you finished sourly, tipping back the rest of your drink with a huff.

“Sounds like a real arsehole,” Sean commiserated, motioning for the bartender to bring you another drink.  “Lucky y’ran into me, huh?”

Fighting a grin you tilted your head as you regarded him.  “And why’s that, Mr. Falco?” you asked with faux solemnity.

“Well, because I’m gunna help yeh forget all about that shitty date,” he answered, raising his glass as the bartender brought you another round.

“Are you now?” you asked as you raised your glass as well, clinking it to his.

“Yes, I am.”

After several more drinks and a rather drunken game of pool, which you won, and then an even more drunken game of darts, which you were terrible at; Sean slipping around behind you to steady you as you aimed, serving only to fluster you more and freezing in his semi-embrace, feeling warmth suffuse your body, the pair of you stumbled back to your booth for one last drink.

“My stepdad’s been tryin’ for ages to get me to take a corporate photography gig, and effectively kill my creativity once and for all,” Sean explained, gesturing with his glass as you watched, your chin propped in your hand.  ”I know he means well, but… I don’t wanna take photographs of just anything, I wanna take photos of things that move me.”  

“I get that,” you replied, nodding, your fingers sliding down the side of your glass.  “And I think… I think that’s why I was so attracted to you…r work,” you added quickly, your face swiftly heating, hoping he hadn’t caught your second slip up of the night.  It didn’t help that the way he was watching you made you want to melt, his lips curling into a bit of a cheeky smirk that made you suspect he had indeed caught it.

“Oh really?” he asked as you quickly downed the rest of your drink.

“Mhmm,” you answered cryptically, clawing for any shred of composure you could, your head spinning slightly.

“Whoa, whoa, [y/n] are you alright?” he asked, noticing you sway in your seat.

“I’m fine!” you exclaimed, a little too quickly and Sean frowned. 

“You’re drunk, d’you need a ride home?” 

“No, no, really.  I can call a cab--”  But Sean saw right through your protests, getting to his feet and helping you up.  

“It’s okay, I’ll drive yeh home,” he offered, and this close your breath caught and you leaned against him, your lowered inhibitions itching to reach up and touch his curls.

“But you’ve been drinking too,” you countered instead, firmly keeping your hands to yourself, even as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder to help you walk.

“I think I’m a bit better at holdin’ my alcohol than you,” he teased, earning a sheepish grin in return.  “Don’t worry, I’ll be a perfect gentleman,” he assured you as he helped you out to his car, holding the passenger door open for you.

You don’t have to be -- you quickly bit your tongue to keep those words from slipping out.  

The drive back to your apartment was rather quiet, Sean putting on some music and you found yourself zoning out, your eyes continuously returning to his profile, admiring him under the lights from the traffic lights as they passed and finally when he pulled up outside your place, throwing the car into park, disappointment slid like a block of ice into your stomach.  You didn’t want this night to end... and maybe it was the alcohol or maybe you just wanted to tell him the truth, but you felt like now was a good time.

Unbuckling, you turned to face him, your breath catching for a moment when you found him watching you, a reluctance to his expression that made you think he wasn’t ready for you to leave yet either.

“Sean, I have a bit of a confession to make,” you admitted softly, your eyes slipping from his and concern crossed his face for a moment, worry creasing his expressive brow..

“What d’ya mean?” 

“Initially my father wanted to turn your application for the show down,” you confessed with a sigh, “I was the one who fought for you to be accepted, I talked him into it, to give you a chance.”

“Why?” Sean asked and you lifted your gaze to meet his, biting your lip.

“I’ve been following your career for a while now, ever since that first show your photos were in, at that skeevy little dive a couple months ago.  The passion in your work is what caught my attention and I couldn’t stop thinking about it.  I actually bought one of your prints for my apartment,” you said, flashing a hesitant smile.  “And then when your application came in, my heart nearly stopped and I knew I’d do anything to get you a chance.  I just want… for people to see what I see.”

Sean stared at you for a long moment in astonishment, his eyes sparkling in the light of the streetlamp nearby.  “Really?” he asked softly, as if dazed and you nodded.

“And now I’ve met you and, God, it’s easy to see why your photos have so much heart, they’re beautiful,” you mused.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed and you weren’t sure who’d made the first move, but suddenly his lips were on yours, his hands cupping your face as he leaned across the car to kiss you and your lips moved hungrily against his, your tongue swiping out to taste him and it seemed to surprise him.

Pulling back, he froze, his eyes meeting yours for a moment before darting away.  “I’m sorry, I--I shouldn’t have,” he exclaimed softly, his lips twisting into a frown.  “You’re drunk and I… I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut and raking his hand through his hair.

“No, it’s okay… I wanted to kiss you,” you admitted and his eyes shot open, a conflicted look crossing his face.  “I like you Sean,” you continued, looking down at your hands in your lap, your heart freezing.

When he didn’t respond you took a deep breath and reached for the door handle, not sure that you wanted to see what expression he wore.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, finally raising your eyes.  “I’m sorry if I went too far.  I had a really fun time and I appreciate you driving me home.”  As you got out of the car you paused for a moment.  “I just… I meant it.  All of it.”  Shaking your head you closed the door, his window still open.  “Good night, Sean, I’ll see you at the show.”

“Wait, [y/n], it’s not like that!” he called after you, desperation tinging his lilting voice, but you didn’t look back and he swore under his breath as he watched you walk away and slip into your apartment building. 

——

Pounding on Derek’s door, Sean paced on the small stoop, waiting for his friend to let him in.  

“Do you know what time it is, man?” Derek asked blearily as he finally opened the door and Sean pushed past him.

“This is all your fault!” he exclaimed without preamble and Derek groaned, shutting the door behind him and following him inside.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You told me to just talk t’her!” Sean ranted, throwing his arms up as he paced the living room, turning to point at his friend.  “Well, y’know what?  It backfired!”

“What --?” Derek asked, trying to keep up in his half awake state.

“I ended up fallin’ for her!” Sean cried, once again shoving his hands through his curls, messing them up further and Derek snorted, falling to the couch.

“That sounds to me like it worked.  I thought that was kinda the plan,” he countered wearily.

“No!  No, I was supposed t’keep my distance, but I let my defenses down,” Sean continued, closing his eyes as he let his head fall back.  “She was so easy t’talk to, and then I saw her tonight at the bar and, and we drank together --”

At this Derek lifted his head from the couch to look at his friend.  “Oh?” he asked, his curiosity piqued.

“Yeah, and then, and then I--I kissed her.  Fuck!”

“Hey, good for you, man,” Derek exclaimed and Sean turned to glare at him.  “What?” he demanded, not backing down.  “C’mon, you gotta move on sometime, and besides you just as much as admitted you like this girl.  So what’s holding you back?”

“Ughhh, you wouldn’t understand!” Sean growled, striding for the door and pulling it open.

“Hey, wait!  Really?” Derek called after him.  “You woke me up for that and now you’re leaving?  Goddammit,” he muttered, pushing himself up to shut the door after Sean.

The rest of the night Sean tossed and turned, his thoughts returning to that kiss, to the way she’d laughed at the bar, how she’d tasted, how nice it’s felt to be close to her, how easy-- his mind racing down avenues he had no right to.

Groaning, Sean buried his face in his pillows.  It was two days til the show and he knew he had to figure out what he wanted by then.

——

It was the day of the show’s opening and you were thankful it was keeping you so busy you could barely think.  After your disastrous impromptu date with Sean the other night you’d agonized over what you’d done wrong, your stomach knotting every time you picked up your phone, hoping for a message from him that didn’t come.  

Getting to the gallery early you were already rushing around, making sure everything was in its place while directing curators and consulting with the caterers, and overall just doing a million other little things.

At one point you passed the section where Sean’s photographs were hung and you froze, your breath catching, as you stopped to stare, your hand unconsciously coming to rest at your neck as you took in each photo, letting your eyes roam them.

“I don’t want to take photographs just anything.  I want to take photos of things that move me.”

What moves you, Sean Falco? you found yourself wondering, quickly snapping yourself out of that line of thought, not allowing yourself to dwell on him.  Pulling your phone from your pocket you checked the time.  It was nearly time for you to get changed and meet with your father to go over any last minute preparations and shortly after that the doors were scheduled to open.  You couldn’t help but simultaneously dread and look forward to seeing one face in particular amongst the crowd.

——

Descending the stairs to the main room you greeted the gathered collectors and artists, your eyes discreetly scanning the crowd for Sean and it wasn’t hard to find him.  With his height and distinctive head of curls, he stuck out in the best way, instantly drawing your eyes and you smiled hesitantly at him, somewhat relieved when his lips pulled into a tentative smile in return.

Fighting the urge to go straight to him, you meandered the crowd, introducing artists to your buyers and pausing to listen to them talk about their art.  By the time you’d made it over to Sean he was already engaged with those gathered and you stopped to listen, finding yourself instantly engrossed as he talked about his process and what inspires him, his gaze flicking to you as he spoke.

Letting your eyes wander you couldn’t help but notice he cleaned up rather nicely, not that he was a slouch by any means, but damn if he didn’t make that suit look good.

Stop it, this is not what you’re here for, you reminded yourself sternly.  But when Sean directed a warm smile your way you couldn’t help but melt slightly.  

Waiting til he was done, you lingered, and he finally turned to you, shoving his hands in his suit jacket.  

“So, I think that went well,” he said and you murmured your agreement. 

“They’re impressed.”

“[y/n],” he began suddenly, his eyes catching yours and you felt a shiver race through you.

“Yes?” you asked, forcing your voice to stay steady.

“Can we… talk?  Someplace, private?” he asked and you glanced around, making sure your father was nowhere to be found.  When you didn’t find him you nodded, leading Sean back to your office.

As soon as he shut the door behind him he turned to you, a conflicted look on his face, his bottom lip drawn between his teeth nervously.  “About the other night,” he murmured and you shook your head slightly, cutting in before he could continue.

“Look, Sean, I thought about it, and I meant what I said that night.  I like you.  I like you a lot.  I can’t remember the last time I felt this way about anyone, and I think… I think you like me too,” you blurted out, his mouth falling open in response.

After a moment he seemed to steel himself, taking a hesitant step toward you, his hands reaching out to take hold of your arms.  “You’re right,” he murmured, swallowing as he looked into your eyes.  “I do like you, [y/n].  I care about you and there’s a part of me that wants to be with you, but…”

“But…?” you repeated, your heart in your throat, your arms warm where his hands rested.

“But I’m scared,” he admitted, taking you aback.

“Scared of what?”

Sean sighed, his chin dropping, his curls falling across his forehead as a pained expression crossed his face.

“It’s stupid and irrational,” he murmured, a bite to his words before he sighed once more.  “I think I need to tell you something about myself and about what happened to me.  Maybe it’ll help you understand where I’m coming from,” he offered and you nodded, wanting to understand.

Lowering you to one of the chairs in front of your desk, he took the one next to it. 

“A year ago, I… got tangled up in something I wasn’t supposed to,” he began and you listened raptly.  “My friend and I had started this venture… if you could call it that,” he said bitterly, “where we broke into people’s houses to steal whatever we could.  There was one night where I found this woman, she was… chained up in this guy’s house and--and I left her there because I was scared.”

You gaped at him, aghast at the story he was spinning, but unable to interrupt him.

“I felt so guilty, so I went to the cops, the FBI, but at first no one believed me.  And then the guy, Cale Erendriech, he found out that I knew and… and he made my life a living hell.  He tried t’kill my best friend, who it’s a miracle he survived, he got my mum and step dad fired from their jobs, and then he went after my girlfriend at the time -- posting a revealing photo of her I had and assaulting her, nearly killing her as well.”

You listened with increasing horror as Sean’s story unfolded, gasping when he got to the climax, escaping an explosion and hunting down the serial killer, managing to save the girl while getting mercilessly beaten in the process.

“Sean…” you murmured, reaching out to place your hand on his knee, shocked at everything he’d been through, no wonder he was hesitant.

“I know it’s irrational,” he exclaimed, shaking his head, his eyes seeking you out, “I know that Erendriech is being bars, rotting in some federal prison somewhere, but… I can’t shake this feeling, this guilt, that anyone I let get close to me could become a target.  And you… I don’t want you t’get hurt,” he admitted, your heart going out to him.

“Sean,” you murmured, hesitantly reaching for his face, bolstered when he leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut as you cupped his cheek.  “I’m sorry you had to go through that, but it’s over, you’re safe now.”

“I know…” he groaned, covering your hand with his.

“It’s okay to be afraid, but you can’t let your fear hold you back from living,” you pointed out and he reluctantly nodded.  “I want to be with you, no matter what that entails,” you confessed, waiting for his response, barely daring to breathe.

When Sean’s eyes opened and found yours, his face was set, as if he’d made up his mind and he smiled.

“You’re right,” he whispered.  “I want to see where this will go,” he admitted, turning to brush a kiss to your palm.  “No more running,” he murmured before his voice strengthened.  “[y/n], will you go out with me?”

You barely waited for the words to leave his mouth before you leaned in to kiss him, giving him your answer against his lips.

“Yes!”

If your absence from the show was noticed, in that moment you really didn’t care, Sean’s arms around you as he kissed you, smiling giddily against your lips was the only thing you wanted to think about.

[maandags]

the watchmaker (Finn Shelby x reader) {part one}

yknow the thing is. the thing is that if you’re writing about something u know jack shit about (in this case: mechanics and clock-making). and ur too lazy to do proper research bc fuck that. all u gotta do. is be confident as hell in the absolute horseshit you’re about to spout

-- -- --

Summary: After your uncle died, you decided to rid yourself of your troubling past and move to Small Heath, into the flat and workshop he left you. Soon after, though, Tommy and Finn Shelby crash into your life and bring back unwanted memories.

Genre: light (?) angst, fluff (ish)

Word count: 9.5K

Notes: CW: death mention - {part two} - masterlist - this first part is pretty tame but don’t be fooled!! the pain will come!!! (again. blame @panda-noosh)

-- -- --

Small Heath was always so dark, even when the sun sat high and proud in the sky.

You hated it. You hated it because you couldn't work properly without nice light, so you constantly had to have lamps on in your workshop and you had bills to pay, damn it, and the cost of light meant you had to cut on other expenses, like food that didn't taste like it had sat rotting in a barrel for six weeks straight, or a decent fucking drink.

You were never one for gloomy weather and rain, even though it was all you'd ever known. Your dad had once taken you on a small trip to the south of England, and you'd been lucky to catch some sunlight. You'd been giddy and happy and had spent all day playing on the beach. The next day it had rained, and you remembered how you'd looked out of the window, wistful and missing the sun.

Birmingham wasn't like that. It was always unforgivingly chilly and on the few days you did get sun there was a fierce wind sweeping the streets. In an attempt to make your workshop a little more welcoming–to make it feel a little more like home–you'd strung up a couple of wood windchimes, and they made a hollow ringing noise when the wind found it necessary to show up again.

Today was one more grey day. Though you hadn't expected anything different, it was still somewhat of a disappointment to wake up in a dark room illuminated only by the small oil lamp you kept on your nightstand. You turned the keys to your workshop with a jingle, lifting the rickety door slightly up so you could turn the handle and open it. Your workshop was only a few streets down from your flat. You were lucky to have inherited this place, small and cramped as it was: it was a roof over your head, and you didn't have to pay rent.

In your workshop, your tools sat in their boxes, and the ones too big to sit in boxes sat on their respective tables. Some even had a place on the floor. Grinders, hammers, the tiniest of screwdrivers and even welding equipment–you had it all, and as always when you entered your shop, you released a little sigh of contentment.

Because maybe you disliked Birmingham. Maybe you were counting the days until you had enough money to get the hell out of there. Maybe you spent as much time as possible working, working, working until you could barely stand on your feet because it was the one thing that didn't leave you completely hopeless–but when you walked into your workshop, all your troubles faded to the back of your mind and nothing existed but the grind of metal on metal and the satisfying click when the pieces finally fell into place.

You hung up your coat and stretched, popping the joints in your neck and shoulders. The thing with being one's own boss is that one could decide themselves when to come in and when to leave, and when to be satisfied with the work done. It was nice to not have someone watch over your shoulder constantly, as had been the case in a few of your internships before you'd started working for your uncle.

Your uncle had been a strange man. Strange, but sweet. Quiet. He was more of a clock-maker than a mechanic, but he was a certain jack-of-all-trades when it came to that particular field of expertise. He was the one who'd taught you almost everything you knew about mechanics and clock-making, and he was the one who bought the workshop and flat in Small Heath years prior. He'd left them both to you when he died six months ago, and you'd moved in a few weeks after his death.

On your walls still hung some of your uncle's pieces. There was a big clock with a shiny ivory face, with a frame made out of beautiful purple wood and decorated with swirls, along with some other clocks all ticking in unison; there were also three copper wire sculptures, part of a series he hadn't been able to finish. They were animals; a bird of paradise from a picture he'd once showed you, a wolf mid-leap, and a cat sitting passively on your desk. You called it Henry–after your uncle–and you liked to think he watched over the shop whenever you were gone.

Henry (your uncle, not the copper cat) had loved the smaller mechanics. The intricate workings of watches an music boxes and typewriters. The smaller machinery. You had taken after him in that aspect, much preferring to tinker with smaller, more delicate components than fix cars or big engines or something like that, which usually required little actual engineering and a whole lot of whacking with a wrench and cursing.

But Birmingham wasn't one for appreciating the finer art of small mechanics. In fact, the majority of your customers in the few months you'd lived here had brought you either cars or guns. Sometimes, if you were really lucky, it was a locomotive that had stopped working like it should, and you'd had to become proficient in steam engineering in two days because no one had listened to you when you'd said you didn't think you were the right person for the job. That had been three weeks since your arrival, and you'd since learned to say no.

You sat down behind your desk, dropped your chin in your hands and stared at Henry, who sat placidly on his wood stand and stared back with shiny copper eyes. "What should I do today, eh?" you muttered, toying listlessly with a spring the width of your finger, making it dance on your desk. Business had been slow these past few days and you were running out of things to do.

Of course, that sort of thoughts are curses, and soon after you would regret thinking them, even though you didn't know that just yet.

The door opened, and you turned to greet the customer, plastering a fake smile on your face and repeating your rather extravagant greeting in your head, but once you recognised the man you froze, the smile falling as fast as it had appeared.

"Morning," said Tommy Shelby, casually casting a glance over the surface of your workshop. You followed him with your gaze as he slowly picked his way over to you, your fingers slipping into one of the pouches on your tool belt and gripping a screwdriver on reflex. You merely nodded a greeting in return.

Behind him entered another figure. Younger than him; tall, thin, a mop of brown hair cut in the ridiculous Peaky Blinder fashion. You were pretty sure it was Finn, the youngest of the four Shelby brothers, but you couldn't be exactly sure. You'd only seen him a few times, and from afar, at that. He didn't seem to be all that content to be here, like he wanted to do nothing more than leave, and you had to agree with him. Please go, you begged silently. Please let this be a mistake.

You couldn't afford to get yourself involved with the Peaky Blinders. Not now, not when you were this close to finally leaving their cursed den.

"What can I do for you, Mr Shelby?" You tried for a smile. Be respectful. Be polite. Try to get them out of your shop as fast as possible.

"This is a nice place," he started, ignoring your question, doing a full turn and raising an eyebrow at you. "Very nice indeed."

"Thank you, sir."

He picked up a fragile piece, bars and springs and pistons and gears hanging on by a thread and you visibly flinched at how roughly he handled it, but dared not open your mouth. He brought it up to his face, inspecting it, and you felt the need to mutter, "It's not finished," because it wasn't and you'd spent days on that single small piece and he could break it at any time if he wasn't careful.

"I don't doubt it," he said before throwing it down again. You cussed under your breath and gingerly picked it up after him, carefully turning it over to inspect any damage. Some gears had shifted from their places and you clenched your teeth as you set it down again and went to search for a pair of pliers and a small screwdriver.

If it had been anyone else, you would have thrown them out immediately. Hell, if it had been anyone else you would have screamed at them to stop touching your fucking stuff and to get the fuck out.

But it wasn't just anyone else.

It was Thomas fucking Shelby, and if Thomas Shelby shows up in your workshop unannounced something is about to go very wrong.

So you kept your head down and snatched up the needed tools, pulling a stool with you so you could fix the damage on the half-finished piece. You squinted, picked at the gears and bars and pursed your lips, waiting for Tommy to say why he was really here. Because there was something else. Tommy Shelby doesn't just stop by for a chat.

And you were right. He swiftly pulled out a cigarette and lit it, and you ground your teeth together. He's just doing it to get a rise out of you, you told yourself. That, and because he's so addicted to the damn things he can't go half an hour without lighting a new one. He'll be gone soon enough.

But he took the cigarette from his lips and said, tapping the ash of the smouldering end onto your floor, "I have a proposition."

That hardly surprised you. He was, after all, nothing more than a businessman.

And then he reached into the inner pocket of his coat and took out a gold-coloured pocket watch, dangling it in front of you and ever so slightly pulling a corner of his mouth up into a knowing smile.

You thought you managed pretty well to keep a straight face. With the barest of looks at it, you said, "Does it need fixing?"

It didn't need fixing, and you knew that perfectly well.

Tommy sighed and dropped the watch onto your desk, and you startled slightly, cursing under your breath as the sudden movement again misplaced some of the parts you were trying so hard to piece back together. "Don't play dumb, Y/N."

Oh, so he knew your name. You kept quiet, picking at the last few parts before you were satisfied with the result and picked it up again to tuck it away somewhere it wouldn't get broken again. As you made your way through the various working desks you had stalled out a little haphazardly around your shop, you replied, "Sorry, Mr Shelby, but no."

A cautious silence. "And why not?"

You grabbed a rag and cleaned the dark grease off your hands. "I don't do that kind of work anymore. You'll have to find someone else."

"But you know as well as I do that there is no one else who provides the kind of services you do. It's quite unique."

You clenched your teeth. "In case you misunderstood the first time I said it–I don't do it anymore. Now, unless you have actual work for me, get the fuck out of my shop."

It was probably not a good idea to talk to Tommy Shelby in such a way, but at the moment you were shaken up and didn't give the slightest of shits. Just to give your fingers something to do, you plucked a piece of thin copper wire from your tool belt and started working it in the palm of your hand.

Tommy didn't move. Instead, he took a last puff from his cigarette and flicked the butt onto the ground, which irritated you beyond belief. "Tell me, Y/N. Why did you come here?"

The question took you aback and you blinked. "What?"

"To Birmingham. You must have known it's not quite the place for a kid like yourself to settle down and build a life." He threw a look outside, through the drab window, where a small, dirty boy ran across the street, alone, clenching what looked like a sheet of some kind in his little fist. "I've never seen you around before. So what are you doing here?"

You looked away with a frown. "My uncle left me this place. And–and a flat down the street. But don't worry," you added in a mutter, "I'll be gone from your precious Birmingham as soon as I can."

That got his attention. You could tell. And you also knew then you'd made a mistake, because he'd found something he could use as leverage: your ability to leave. Because to leave, you needed money. And money was something Thomas Shelby had plenty of.

"I'll make my offer again." Out of his pocket came a thick brown envelope and he chucked it onto the desk in front of you. You slowly reached out, keeping your gaze steady on his face, then flicking down to peek inside the envelope. In your head you counted as you flicked through the notes, and your heart started hammering inside your chest.

"Consider that a little extra. Take the job and I'll triple it."

That would bring the total to... "Six thousand pounds?"

Tommy inclined his head. "If you would be so generous as to do what I've asked."

That would mean you only had to do this one job, this one single job, before you could leave. Once this was done, you could just... go. Anywhere. Six thousand pounds. Your fingers mindlessly played with the lip of the envelope, and you noticed the gleam of satisfaction in Tommy's eye. He knew he had you. You took a breath, hollowing out your cheeks and breathing a long exhale.

"Fine," you finally said. "Fine. I'll do it."

Tommy smiled that calculating smile of his. "Ah, fantastic. Good." He pointed at the watch that still lay in a heap on your desk. "I'll just leave that here, then. Get it done in a week."

That was a reasonable deadline. A day or so to get everything you needed from the places you knew in London, then another five to actually assemble it... You should be able to get it done just fine. You'd had worse deadlines.

He nodded, then turned and started out of the shop.

You blinked, then said, "Hey. Wait a minute."

Irritated, he faced you again. "What?"

You folded your arms, the money envelope warm and tingly against the sensitive skin of your fingertips. "I have a few conditions."

Conditions. It hadn't even been half a year and you were already slipping back into the ruthless, dangerous business-like attitude that was the reason you moved out of your former town in the first place. You bit your tongue. It'll only be once. This is the last time. The words felt rather hollow in your mind.

Something flashed in Tommy's eyes. He wasn't used to someone as lowly as you daring to make demands. "Conditions?"

"Just a few."

After a brief second of internal debate he rolled his hand in a Go on gesture.

You took a breath. "You will finance the trips and the supplies that I'll need to get started."

"Of course."

"My name will stay out of this. Completely and absolutely. I am not involved in this project whatsoever."

His eyes shone. "Yes."

"And, lastly," you took another shaky breath, "when I'm done, and I leave this place, none of you will ever contact me in any way, shape, or form again. Ever. And I want that on a contract, in black and white. Signed by you and then by myself."

A beat of silence before he nodded and said, "Alright."

His complacency took you by surprise. You'd expected him to argue, or even plain deny some of your demands. The fact that he went along with them without any remarks had you on edge, because that was not like Tommy Shelby at all.

He popped another cigarette between his lips and lit it. "I'll send someone with the contract when it's ready. You'll get started right after."

Still somewhat suspicious by the ease with which he accepted your conditions, you nodded stiffly, then cast a rather significant look towards the door. Tommy laughed. "Well, Finn, I think it's time for us to go. I don't feel like we're very welcome here."

Finn. You startled. You'd forgotten he was here. He pushed himself off the doorframe he'd been leaning against, then, shooting you a look laced with suspicion and hostility, walked out before his brother. Tommy gave you a last nod, then followed.

You stood behind your desk for a while, mind only just beginning to process what you'd agreed to. Heaving a sigh, you dropped onto a stool, throwing your head back and rubbing your eyes. You glanced at Henry the Copper Cat who, thankfully, still sat on his wooden stand. You had asked for something to do–well, Henry sure had delivered, you thought wryly.

You fingered the envelope that you hadn't let go of since it had found its way into your hands. Two thousand pounds were inside it, and should you complete the job that sum would transform into six thousand.

For a moment, you toyed with the idea to just take the two thousand and leave. Two thousand was already enough to buy a small flat from, and you could just pack up and take the next train to London or something. Change your name and never look back.

But they'd find you. Tommy Shelby would find you, and he'd kill you, and it wouldn't matter how well you'd tried to hide, for he would find you, because he could find anyone. Anywhere. It just wasn't worth the risk.

The contract was to be delivered to you shortly. Until then, all you could really do was wait.

Only a second after Finn Shelby stepped through your door, you raised the visor of your helmet and set down the welding tools you were wielding.

He looked at you for a second, and you looked at him, returning the fierce stare he was giving you. Over his shoulder was slung the strap of a messengers bag. Your eyes narrowed and you took off your helmet with a flourish, plopping it onto your desk. "Out with it."

His face instantly went flat, and his voice came out strangely monotone. "Here is the contract you asked for." He reached in his bag as he walked towards you, and you folded your arms in front of you because you felt like you needed to look at least a little bit confident. At the moment, you felt like you were oozing about as much confidence as a mouse caught between two cats.

"Signed by Mr Thomas Shelby–" He tapped the little box on the paper that bore a small, pointy signature– "and to be signed by Y/N L/N right here." His finger moved to a second box and in the same breath he produced a pen with his other hand that he set down on the file. You pursed your lips, didn't question how he knew both your real first and last name. Last time you checked, you'd been using a fake last name every time someone asked you for it.

You only hesitated for a split second before scribbling down your signature. "All right. You can go now."

But he didn't. Instead he calmly collected the contract, slipping it into an envelope and tucking it in his bag, taking his sweet time. Then he looked at you and kept looking at you until you had to look away out of pure discomfort.

"I don't trust you, you know," he finally said.

"The feeling's mutual, I assure you," you replied breezily. "Now kindly get out of my workshop, I have some errands to run."

Still he didn't move. "Thomas told me about what you do."

You froze and clenched your jaw, hands stilling where they fiddled at the buttons on your welding apron. "What I used to do. It's not–I don't do it anymore."

At his raised eyebrows, you hissed, "I don't usually get paid six thousand pounds for a simple pocket watch bomb, Finn Shelby. If you think I'm going to let that opportunity slide, you're wrong."

He hummed, nodding, toying with his lower lip. "A pocket watch bomb. You don't hear that one often."

You shrugged stiffly. "Well, you know–it's not something everyone uses on the daily."

"Indeed it isn't." A beat of silence passed as you collected your gear and put everything in their respective storage boxes.

Then a question popped up in your mind and it fell past your lips before you could stop yourself. "How did you find me, anyway? I thought I'd been pretty thorough in my identity erasing business."

"Oh, you had, that's why it took us this long to be sure about who you were. You know, this place has been stood empty for almost two decades, and suddenly you show up, with all the paid contracts, and no one remembers even seeing you around... I mean, that's bound to arise some suspicion."

He was talking so carefully, selecting every word as if from a catalogue and piecing them together like beads on a necklace. It reminded you of the way Tommy talked. Their tones were so similar it was almost creepy.

But something about it was... off, somehow. He was thinking too much about it. Trying too hard to make it sound natural, and you guessed it could have sounded natural to anyone who wasn't listening as closely as you were. Why someone would try this hard to be like Tommy Shelby in any way, shape, or form was beyond you, but you guessed it was something like brotherly admiration or something. You didn't know. You didn't have siblings.

"Nothing happens in this wretched place without Tommy knowing about it, eh?" You were only half-joking, but the serious nod Finn gave you wiped the smile off your face as quickly as it had appeared.

"I guess so."

You breathed an exasperated sigh. "Well, like I said, I have some errands to run. And I don't think Tommy would be very happy if he knew you'd been keeping me from my work."

He perked up. "Ah, yes. About that–I'm coming with you."

You cocked your head and narrowed your eyes. "Like Hell you are. I can do this just fine on my own."

"Tommy's orders."

"Of course they're Tommy's fucking orders," you mumbled under your breath, snatching your coat and your hat from their hangers. "Fine. But I'm stopping by my flat to get cleaned up and changed and you're not coming in."

You stretched out your cleaning-up as long as you physically could, even considering running an entire bath, but you felt like that would be taking it just a tad too far. Finn was only staying outside to humour you. He was a Shelby for God's sake; he could come and go wherever he pleased, whenever he pleased. Besides, you did have a train to catch.

You tugged on some gloves and a scarf and finally stepped out of your flat, a good forty-five minutes later. Finn looked rather unhappy at being left in the cold for so long. Tough luck. Bet he's never had to wait for anything in his life, you thought bitterly.

"Let's go," he grumbled. "Train leaves in twenty minutes."

You'd half expected him to keep peppering you with questions the entire ride, but he kept silent most of it, ignoring you and looking out the window, which was fine by you. The first question only came when the both of you had stepped out into the busy streets of London.

"When did you start doing this?"

"What, making bombs?" You scoffed at the slightly panicked look he cast around, like he expected to be jumped any moment. "Calm down. Nobody's heard us. Besides, even if they had, you could shout out that you're on your way to shoot the fucking King and no heads would turn."

"Ah. You didn't answer my question, though."

"Fine. If you're so keen on knowing, I started... five, six years ago? I can't really remember."

He looked at you, surprised. "But weren't you just a kid back then?"

You shrugged, kicking a pebble out of your way. "I mean, yeah."

That was all you were going to tell him.

The truth was that you did start making bombs when you were a kid. In fact, you made your first one when you were just thirteen; and back then you hadn't even known exactly what you were putting your effort into. Your uncle Henry had been seeing people, strange people you hadn't seen about the shop before, and you were curious as to what they were talking about. It would have been business, little twelve-year-old you supposed; they went into the back room to discuss, and you weren't allowed in the back room, so naturally you eavesdropped on them every at chance you got.

But as far as you knew, they talked about watches and clocks, and times and other such cryptic details whose meanings you couldn't figure out. When you curiously asked your uncle about it–because you were twelve and had little to no verbal filter–he'd patted you on the head and told you not to worry about it. You hadn't, because you were twelve and Henry had just started teaching you how to build clocks, and he said he'd let you run wild and design your own proper clock when you had the basics down and that was the most exciting thing to happen in ages.

And then, around a month after your thirteenth birthday, Henry had sat you down and explained that sometimes, when money was tight and one has people to look after, one made certain choices that one otherwise wouldn't make.

He'd explained who the men were–the ones you'd overheard him talking to–and what they wanted, and he'd told you that he was giving you a choice: to either go and live at Mrs Bunting's–whom he had talked to and who had agreed to take you in–and find a job at another mechanic's, start over; or to stay with him and lead a life filled with danger and uncertainties. I won't be able to protect you from this forever, he'd said.

You had not hesitated a single second.

You were to stay.

And people always had something to say about you. Always they had that look in their eye when you were out to run errands for Henry, for they had their own suspicions about what he did; when they once had been so kind and welcoming towards you they turned away and whispered behind their hands.

You had known the dangers when you accepted to stay. You had known exactly what you were getting yourself into. More than once, when a job was completed and the bomb was on its merry way, you questioned whether the choice you'd made was the right one. Always you came to the conclusion that it didn't matter. Because the choice had already been made, and there was no backing out now. And while you sometimes wondered about it, you found that you didn't really have any regrets. You just did what people wanted from you, no question asked.

Did that make you a bad person?

You shook your head, forcing your mind to refocus on the present. Your feet had carried you to the street you needed to be, and you briefly scanned the signs hanging out front of the shops before ducking into the one you were looking for.

The shop was lit by oil lamps casting a yellowish glow over the various items; spices and wood and candles and powders, exactly like you remembered. It seemed innocent enough, but you knew first-hand that you shouldn't always trust appearances.

The man behind the counter raised an eyebrow and puffed out a cloud of smoke, plucking a pipe from his lips. "Well I'll be damned. It's you. Didn't expect seein' you round 'ere again."

You nodded. "Jimmy."

"Yer usual, eh?"

"Please."

Jimmy grinned wide at you, barely paying any mind to Finn bar a subtle once-over, then shouted over his shoulder, "OI, HARRY! Y/N's order!"

From the back came a grunt. "Y/N? What's them doing here?"

"None of yer business, lad. Just do what's fuckin' asked of ye."

You threw Finn a look, fingering your sleeve cuff. A loose thread was hanging off it and you plucked at it, just to give your hands something to do. "Jim was my uncle's friend," you muttered out of the corner of your mouth, because you felt like you should justify his jovial behaviour. Then you caught yourself. You didn't have to justify shit. Especially not to Finn fucking Shelby.

After a few minutes of rummaging round the back, Harry appeared in the doorway and tossed you a burlap bag the size of a chicken. You caught it with a grin and winked at him, causing him to flush a bright pink. Poor old Harry had always had a soft spot for you, even though he was a couple of years younger. You tossed the owed money onto the counter and Jimmy sank lower in his chair, puckering at his pipe.

"So how've you been holdin' up, kid?"

You knew he was talking about uncle Henry, and you shrugged. "You know." As far as vague answers went, this was one of your better ones.

Jimmy nodded gravely, like he knew exactly what you were talking about. "Aye. Well, on you go. See you around, kiddo."

You threw him a wave over your shoulder as you exited the store.

"That was so weird," huffed Finn as soon as you were outside again. You gave him a side-eyed look. He scoffed. "Are all your friends like that?"

"I mean–Jim and Harry are pretty much my only friends, and I see them maybe once every two months. So yeah. All my friends are like that."

It was quiet for a moment and you kept a brisk pace towards your next destination, huddling your hands in your coat for warmth. Then Finn said, "But you had friends before, right. Back where you're from."

"Actually, not really. I was kind of... weird, as a kid. I mean, I built bombs in my free time, what'd you expect?" You forced out a laugh. You didn't like talking about this. It was a phase of your life you'd put behind you, and recounting it to Finn now was doing nothing but resurface bad memories. "My uncle was my best friend, but he died. In Small Heath nobody'll even look at me, but I think that's just how people interact with each other there, so I don't take it too personally." You thought that would be the end of it.

He kept quiet for a while, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets. But then he said, "Didn't you ever get lonely?" and it was so unexpected that you almost stopped short in the middle of the street.

You only just managed to catch yourself. "Sometimes." And you left it at that.

The rest of the trip passed in relative silence, and at each of the two stops you made the store clerks recognised you, and a bit of slightly awkward conversation followed. Finn always stood behind you, looking only the slightest bit out of place, and though he attracted some questioning stares you always ignored them, or any inquiry pertaining to him. When someone asked who he was, you cut them off with the curt answer of "A friend." It couldn't be further from the truth, of course–Finn was anything but your friend–but it was easier than having to explain the whole ordeal.

When you had everything you needed, you stood out in the streets for a moment, just watching passersby and keeping a casual but firm hand on your burlap supplies bag. "Let's have tea," you said suddenly.

Finn cast you a look. "What?"

"Tea. You know, the drink with the leaves and the warm water and biscuits and shit."

"I fucking know what tea is."

"Fantastic. Let's have some, then."

"Now?"

"Why not? Our train doesn't leave for another hour and a half and I know a place not too far from here."

He only hesitated for a second before he said, "Alright."

You stirred your tea–needlessly, because you take your tea plain without neither sugar nor milk–and watched Finn spoon heapfuls of sugar into his cup. There was a moment of silence before you finally asked the question that had been eating at you since you had received this assignment. "Say, Finn."

"Hm?"

"Who's the bomb for, anyway?"

It was a reasonable question. Tommy Shelby wouldn't have had a bomb made just because he felt like it. He could have anyone killed by anyone–he'd hired assassins before, you'd heard–so why did he want a bomb to do the job now?

Finn shrugged way too casually for someone who's about to share the name of the man his brother wants dead. "Someone who pissed off the wrong people. He's got this fucking amazing security system around him, though, because apparently that's something he does often–piss important people off, I mean–and like you said before, a pocket-watch-bomb isn't something most people expect to get killed by."

You found it a solid answer, and left it at that.

But he was getting jittery, his knee bouncing restlessly under the table. He wasn't able to keep his hands still, fingers tapping the ear of his cup one second then running along the side of the table the next. His incessant fidgeting was making you nervous as well and you plunked down your cup.

"What's your problem?" you hissed, lightly kicking him under the table.

He looked up suddenly, eyes wide like he'd forgotten you were there. "Nothing."

"You're a shit liar, Finn Shelby."

"Fuck off." But there was a small grin tugging at the ends of his lips, and you felt oddly happy that you were the cause of it, which was stupid, because you'd only just met the guy.

"I'm serious. What's wrong?"

He shrugged again, curling his fingers around his cup, bringing it to his lips to take a tentative sip, then wincing against the heat of the drink. "I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"None of your fucking business."

You raised your brows. "Alright, mate. Calm down."

He looked away, still managing to look serious as everything with his stupid haircut that was now exposed for everyone to see since he took off his hat when he entered the tearoom, which was a gesture of politeness you hadn't expected from a Shelby boy.

You eyed the cap with equal apprehension and grudging admiration. It was symbolic of the Blinders, who got their name thanks to the razor-blades sewn into the fold of the caps. Not very obvious from a distance, but it only took one well-placed ray of light to hit the shiny metal to spot the blades, and paired with the natural Don't Fuck With Me-looks that most of the Shelby boys seemed to be born with (except for Finn–you were still finding it hard to be intimidated by his baby-faced, lanky figure) it made for quite threatening appearances.

But Finn was growing moody and quiet very quickly, and that was no fun to be around, so you kicked his shin one more time for good measure, knocked back your tea (unpleasant company isn't an excuse to let a perfectly good cup of tea go to waste) and stood. "Let's go. Train leaves in thirty minutes."

You were at the station early, but you'd already found out that when Finn got grumpy he wasn't great conversationalist, so you settled for looking at the trains rumble past and the passengers they carried. You'd always liked to people-watch. It was a way to pass the time, and it was fun to judge innocent passersby.

As soon as you got out of the train back in Small Heath, though, he seemed to regain some of his good humour, and as he walked you home he even cracked a few smiles. That was largely due to your constant joking around, trying to keep the atmosphere light. Still grinning, you walked up to your front door and stuck in the key.

"Thank you so very much for walking me to my door. Like a true gentleman."

Finn tipped his hat. "Now's when you would invite me in for a drink."

"What, like the cheap whore you take me to be? No, no, dear Shelby boy, you're sleeping alone tonight," you laughed.

With that, you shut the door behind you.

You climbed the stairs to your bedroom, deposited the burlap bag onto the floor and walked up to your window. Down below, Finn was just walking away. You spotted him on the far end of the street, and you tugged the curtain closed right as he rounded the corner.

It was only two days until you saw him again.

In fact, he let himself into your workshop, making more noise than was strictly necessary and causing you to start in your seat. You pushed up the working goggles that perched on the bridge of your nose. "The fuck're you doing here? I got five more days, Tommy said."

Finn scrunched up his nose. "Yeah, yeah. Tommy also said I should be keeping an eye on you."

For a few long, long seconds, you just stared at him. "So your brilliant idea was to do what? Babysit me while I do my job?"

"If that's what you want to call it."

You scoffed and flicked the goggles back onto your face. "Well, I hope you brought a book or something. One of those fancy crossword puzzles, or whatever it is they call them. I'm going to be busy."

"Can't read."

"Then it's going to be a long fucking day for you, mate."

Finn shrugged, approaching a stool, prepared to let himself drop on it.

"No," you said without looking up, prodding at a small part with a tiny screwdriver.

"What?"

"Not there. I need that."

"Then where am I allowed to sit?" He sounded irritated already, and an idea started to form in your head. Maybe if you pissed him off enough he would fuck off and let you work.

"The ground. But not there, there, or there," you said, pointing at a couple of completely random spots on the ground. That left a single small space in the right-hand corner, and you expected Finn to either flat-out refuse or just walk out the door, but he obediently plopped down and folded his legs beneath him. You looked at him through narrowed eyes for a moment. So he was stubborn. Alright. You could be stubborn too.

Without a word you went back to your work.

He managed for exactly an hour and a half before he started to get jittery, getting up and pacing around the room.

"No, no, absolutely not," you said sharply when he reached out to touch Henry the copper cat.

His hand froze in mid-air. "I purposely chose the one thing that doesn't look fragile."

"Leave Henry alone."

"You named a cat statue Henry?"

You bristled, feeling your shoulders bunch around your ears. "He's named after my uncle."

"Oh." A silence. "I'm sorry."

"For what? You didn't do anything wrong," you muttered distractedly, concentration mostly directed to the tiny gear you were preparing to drop into place with a pair of tweezers.

It was silent again for a moment, and you worked, but you were aware of Finn in your surroundings every second of every hour that passed. It made you more nervous, absent-minded, and you caught yourself on multiple occasions skipping a step in the building process or almost dropping a part, which never happened.

It was Finn. Not even him specifically, but his presence, the fact that there was someone looking over your shoulder as you built, was unsettling and made your mind deviate from the task at hand, which is not the best of things when one is constructing a bomb.

Whatever the case, you needed to get him out. Away, at least for a bit. So that you could actually make progress on this damn thing, otherwise you wouldn't even make the deadline Tommy had set for you.

Setting down your tools and popping the joints in your neck, you said, "I'm fucking starving."

Finn looked up, eyebrows raised.

You nodded encouragingly at him, picking up your screwdriver again and waving it around. "What are you waiting for? Get some food."

"I'm not your fucking chambermaid," he spluttered.

"Nah, I wish. But you're all I've got, sadly. Go on, make yourself useful while I build this here bomb." You pointed your screwdriver down at the mess of parts in front of you and grinned.

Finn narrowed his eyes, but apparently you had made a solid argument, because after a brief moment of evaluating he tore open the door and stomped outside. You blew out a breath, sitting back in your chair and taking a moment to stretch your legs and neck and shoulders and work your jaw, which had all been tense and cramped up.

Then you sat back down and continued working, this time with nothing but the blissful tick-tocking of the clock to keep you company.

About an hour later, Finn returned with a pack of sandwiches, and you perked up, only just realising that you really had been starving.

He handed you one, and you tore into it with gusto, letting your head fall back and breathing out a sigh of contentment. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed his look of amusement and a questioning glint in his eyes. You swallowed, then said, "I don't always have time to eat proper lunch when I'm working."

Finn let his head fall to the side. "Y/N."

"... And I might not have eaten this morning, either.'

"Y/N."

"I'm eating now, aren't I? You sound like my fucking mum."

He pouted and took a bite out of his own sandwich, and for a moment you munched in silence.

Then you rolled your eyes. "Thank you for the sandwiches."

"Thank my aunt. She made them."

You felt your eyebrows shoot up again. "Polly fucking Gray made me sandwiches?"

He chuckled. "Yeah."

"No fucking way."

The look on your face must have been one of full-fledged bafflement, for he cast one look at your features and burst out laughing. The sound was contagious; intoxicating, even, and you found yourself joining him not soon after.

The days passed like that for the rest of the week. Finn would come to your workshop about ten minutes after you'd opened up, and he'd spend the morning walking around, even helping out sometimes when he could, sometimes interjecting with a question or a remark. You'd answer him, and somehow the chats would always end up with you taking the piss out of his hair or his clothes and him telling you to fuck off, but neither of you really put any bite into your words and would be able to suppress your grins in the end.

Then you'd order him to get you lunch, and he'd give a mocking bow and show up an hour later with freshly made sandwiches or boiled eggs and you'd sit at your desk, talking about anything and everything.

On the fifth day, when he came in, you pointed at him. "Oi. You're gonna be extra fucking quiet today. I don't have a lot left to do, but I gotta do it right. Wouldn't want to disappoint Tommy, eh?"

Finn saluted, then sank down in his corner and made himself small, curling up into a bal, which just looked comical given his tall frame and non-flexibility.

"I said extra-quiet, you shit. What are you doing?"

Finn looked up at you from under his lashes. "I'm melting into my surroundings."

"Right." You shook your head and tugged on your gloves before getting to work, and before long you were completely absorbed in your craft.

What was left to do was only the outside shell; the golden plaques modelled after the watch Tommy had left you, the clock-face and the tiny hands indicating the passage of time, the shiny button that would simultaneously act as a detonator. This was the more artistic part of the process, the part of the watch that everyone would see; and it was your job to make sure it looked pretty enough that someone would accept it as an impromptu gift but clean enough so that no one would suspect the true nature of the object.

You worked for hours, and at this point you had learned how to block out Finn's rummaging around in the back until it was nothing but white noise. When you looked up, he would meet your eyes briefly; you'd throw fleeting smiles at each other then you would bend over your work again.

The silence in the shop was soft and comforting. It was familiar, nothing but the sound of the wind howling outside and your own muttering to keep you company. Finn had faded to the background, as he always did.

There was a tap on your shoulder and you almost jumped, feeling your shoulders tense up for a moment until you realised that it was just Finn, and you forced your muscles to relax again. Upon closer inspection, you noticed the bag he carried, and a glance at the clock told you that it was far past lunchtime.

Finn cleared his throat. "You didn't tell me to get lunch, but I did it anyway. Because you need to eat."

You took a sandwich from him and sat back, rubbing your eyes. "Thanks. I'm almost done."

"Good."

"What, are you finally cracking under the pressure of loneliness?" you laughed, flicking a piece of ham at him.

He gave you a small smile in return. "I wasn't lonely."

That shut you up, and you ate the rest of your lunch in silence. For the first time, the air between the two of you was thick with tension and unspoken words. He had questions and he had things to say, but he kept his mouth shut and you didn't know why. He was a Shelby, wasn't he? Shelby boys weren't known for sparing people's feelings.

Maybe it was the the fact that this was probably the last lunch you'd share.

Though it stung to admit, you had grown used to his presence in your shop. You'd grown used to seeing him stroll in every morning, and having him walk you to your door when you would decide to call it a day.

You'd never been truly lonely before, but you were finally starting to understand what it could feel like.

"Let's get this thing done, eh?" you mumbled, brushing the last crumbs off your hands.

Finn nodded, flipping his cap back onto his hair.

"Your hair's still ugly. Hiding it with the cap won't do shit," you told him, just because.

Finn sighed, but his smile grew that little bit wider, and it was worth it.

And after another two hours, you were finally done. You blew out a breath and held up the watch by its chain, admiring your handiwork.

Finn looked over, expression growing excited once he realised you were finished. "Is it done?"

"I think it is," you mused.

He scrambled up and joined you. "It doesn't look like a bomb."

"That's the point, Finn dear."

You deposited the watch carefully into a wooden box filled with cotton after making sure that the detonator button was firmly fixated with a wooden separator. "I'll get this to Tommy right away."

For a moment, Finn just looked at you, nibbling on his lower lip. Then he said, "Come celebrate."

"What?"

"Tommy will want to celebrate. He's been going on and on about how badly he wants this guy dead, and he's never been able to slip past his defences. Now you're handing him the solution on a silver platter."

"In a wooden box, actually."

Finn ignored you. "Come celebrate with us. At the Garrison."

You looked away, saying nothing, and Finn nudged your arm with his elbow. "Come on. You deserve it."

"I'll look out of place," you protested, but even you could hear how weak the words sounded.

"Just... For once, don't go straight home, all right? Come have some fun."

Fun. The word sounded distant and far-away. You hadn't had some proper fun in ages. Of course, you loved building, you loved working, but it was different than a night out with friends, or just a moment of quiet and peace for yourself where you didn't have to worry about stuff exploding in your very hands.

Fun. A night out drinking, at a bar.

With Finn.

"I'll think about it," you said, quickly turning away and wrapping your scarf around your neck, just for an excuse not to look at him.

"I'll see you tonight," he called after you as you left the shop.

"Maybe," you replied over your shoulder, even though you'd already made your decision.

– – –

You walked into Shelby Company Limited without knocking, and immediately you were greeted by a sharp voice. "Oi. What's your business?"

You turned and smiled at the tall woman who'd spoken. "I'm here to see Tommy Shelby."

She scowled. "Mr Shelby's busy right now."

You smiled, jutting your chin up, the box in your bag seeming to grow warmer. "I think he'll make an exception for me."

She rolled her eyes, asked for your name. You gave it to her and watched as she strode over to Tommy's office. She appeared a moment later and informed you that Mr Shelby would see you now. You nodded your thanks and slipped past her into the office.

Tommy took his time setting his pen down, adjusting his glasses, taking a moment to shift the papers on his desk exactly half a millimeter, and lighting a cigarette before nodding at you to take a seat. You brushed a strand of hair out of your face and did so, nervously shuffling your feet on the ground. It wasn't that you were scared of Tommy Shelby–you were the one with the bomb, after all–but his perpetual threatening calmness always set you on edge. The very act of being around him had you anticipating an attack on your person, which was stupid.

You fumbled in your bag and took out the box, placing it on the desk in front of Tommy with your tongue between our lips and a look of utmost concentration on your face, as if any sudden movement could detonate the bomb inside. It couldn't–you wouldn't even have made it to the office if it could–but it never hurt to be careful, and you had to admit you were a little nervous.

Tommy blew out a puff of smoke and slid the box across the surface of the desk, slowly lifting the lid. He appeared satisfied with what he saw, and carefully replaced the cover after a minute of observation.

"So, that's it, then?"

You blinked. "Um. Yes?" You didn't quite know what he meant, so the word came ou sounding more like a question.

Tommy pushed out his cigarette in the ashtray, where it sent thin tendrils of smoke curling up into the air, and leant forward, his fingers entwined. "The watch. The bomb. There it is, in its little box. That is it."

"Yes."

He nodded. "Explain to me how it works."

For a second you just stared at him, not quite sure if he was messing with you or not. In a hesitant voice, you started to explain, sometimes stumbling on the words. "Well. The watch is just the cover, really, designed to conceal the explosives inside. The crown is the detonator." You gestured to the crown of your own watch, twisting it with unsure fingers. "It's not activated yet. There's a safety block that has to be removed before you can move the crown in any way."

You paused, and Tommy rolled his hand. You coughed awkwardly. You never had to explain how the damn things worked; you only built them. It had been Henry's job to share the finer details of the bomb, how it worked, what to do and not to do. You weren't very skilled at putting your work into words, because you never really had to think about it as you built; it was almost an automatism by now, and now that an outsider with little to no knowledge of the craft asked you to explain it, your brain blanked.

Yet you continued on, struggling to form concepts into concrete thoughts, and into words. "The seconds hand is set on the twelve, and will remain so as the user sets the time; once the crown is pushed, the seconds will start ticking. A minute will go by before detonation; one full revolution of the hand."

Tommy nodded again, rubbing his lower lip with his thumb. Minutes passed, and he still didn't speak, and you were starting to panic slightly. Then you told yourself to grow the fuck up, and that nothing bad's gonna happen, and that he probably just needed to process the mess of information you'd just spouted at him.

"So we have one minute before detonation once the crown's pushed," he mused finally.

"One minute."

You could almost see the gears in his head turn, the forming of a plan that had been non-existent just a few moments prior. Then he sat back in his chair, and all the tension in the room dissipated at once. He pulled open a drawer on his right, and out came a familiar-looking envelope. He held it out to you. "The agreed upon compensation. The extra charges for the train to London and the supplies are all accounted for."

You took the envelope, peeking inside (because you felt you had to–not because you mistrusted Tommy Shelby. For all his threatening and crime-doing, he was a man of his word if nothing else) before stuffing it in your bag.

There were still questions burning at the back of your throat, begging to be asked. Like whom exactly the bomb was destined for. Whose life was it going to end. Finn hadn't given you a name, after all. And why he had chosen you of all people; this weapon of all weapons. But you didn't think he would answer any of them, and it was none of your business what was going on inside his head anyway.

"Thank you, Y/N. You did well."

You nodded and mumbled your thanks, pushing the rebellious strand of hair away from your face. Then something else popped up in your mind, and you gave a breathy laugh.

"At least you can tell Finn to stop pestering me all day when I should be working," you said half-jokingly.

Tommy gazed at you, face blank as a fresh canvas. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

You laughed again, but it sounded like nervous chitter to your ears. "Well. You know. He told me you'd said to keep an eye on me. Or something. He took the job seriously, I'll give him that."

At that, Tommy shook his head slightly, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He plucked his pen from its stand, and popped the cap on the end. "Tonight's celebratory drinks at the Garrison, as I'm sure Finn has told you. I want you to be there."

That still rubbed you the wrong way. "What are we celebrating?" you found the nerve to ask.

After a small pause, Tommy puckered his lips and said, "The erasure of one more shitstain from the face of this Earth," which you found rather dramatic, but also gave you the feeling that this was an important fellow, if his death warranted celebratory drinks. The thought made you uneasy. What if you knew this man? What if you read about his death–his murder–in the papers tomorrow, and you recognised the name, and you would have to live forever with the burden of knowing you made it possible?

You had been making bombs for six years, but this was the first time that the consequences were so tangible. It had never felt... real before, somehow. Maybe it was because you'd never actually seen the people who you built the bombs for. Maybe it was because you were, for the first time, alone in it, when you had been able to share your feelings with uncle Henry before.

Then Tommy added, "And the crucial part you took in it," and that made you feel even worse.

[max-is-tired]

please can you rant about what happens after Augustus presents himself to Thomas, how thomas will react and adjust and all the others too? plz -🖌

Bullet-pointing the shit out of this again here we go-

(Warnings: swearing, a touch of angst, sympathetic deceit, maybe morally-grey Patton but I’m not sure about that one)

(This bitch is like 1.4k+ words long get ready y’all)

(Also if you haven’t read Once Again stop right here and go read it!! Trust me you’ll need the context :’))

Okay so before we begin we gotta go back to just after Roman and Remus unfuse. Imagine their confusion when, you know, they calm down enough to actually process whatever the fuck just happened. It probably goes something like this:

"THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED."

"THE FUCK WAS THAT, WHAT DID YOU DO??"

"I DIDN'T DO SHIT WHAT ABOUT YOU?”

"Wait, was that the original Creativity?? Like, from before we split up?"

"If that's the case then I gotta say, we were hOT AS FUCK-"

"REMUS NO WHY-"

And basically, they figure out they can fuse back into Augustus whenever they want?? And start doing it mostly in the Imagination, away from prying eyes.

So yeah, in the beginning, they don't tell the others, mostly because that would be a very LONG talk and they don't want to go through that thank you very much.

(How does Remus manage to not blow this secret one day in??? We'll never know I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

(Also I’m putting the rest under the cut bc this got long)

Anyway, I won’t talk about how the other sides find out about Augustus here bc I’ve got another (bullet point maybe?) fic in the works for that and it’s a goodie so look out for that one ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

As for Thomas, well, I imagine it would happen by accident? Roman and Remus are still around most of the time, so even after the others find out they don’t see any reason to let Thomas know about the OG Creativity not being as dead as they previously thought.

(Also they’re lowkey scared he’ll prefer Augustus to them and somehow force them to fuse back definitively but that’s a whole other can of worms we won’t be opening today ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ)

Anyway maybe they’re fused maybe because they needed Augustus to do Something Important in the Imagination -Augustus, being the OG Creativity and also Roman&Remus combined has way more control over the Imagination than the two brothers ever could, even if he’s working on teaching them new tricks.

So yeah, they’re fused and Augustus is minding his own business when Thomas suddenly tries to summon Roman, but since the prince is currently fused into Augustus the latter gets summoned instead.

Poor Augustus hasn’t been summoned in the real world since e v e r, so he’s got basically one or two seconds during which he goes “oh fuck” before he’s tumbling gracelessly in Roman’s sport, for Thomas’ surprise and the others’ resignation.

“I was busy, you know.”

“We tried to tell him, but he’s almost as stubborn as you sometimes.”

“Love you too Dee.”

(Little backstory: Dee & Augustus had a sort of sibling relationship and were really close before the split, as the dramatic nerds they are. That’s another thing over which Morality and Augustus often found themselves at odds -they’re relationship wasn't… the absolute best, even less during the years leading to the split, and even now there are things they still need to iron out before they can actually start calling each other friends.)

Thomas, a very confused gay, goes “Okay who are you though?? I was trying to summon Roman.”

Augustus, a very tired Side who just wants to enjoy his retirement thank you very much, lets out a sigh and gets up, dusting himself off.

“You might want to sit down, it’s quite the long story.”

Thomas does so, still very confused as he throws the unknown side a cautious glance -Thomas can’t place it, but he can’t help but feel nostalgic every time he looks at the side, as if he were an old friend he hasn’t seen in a long, long while.

Which is strange, since he’s pretty sure he has never met him before.

“So-” Augustus says, straightening his spine and taking in a deep breath- “where to begin?”

During the next hour or so, he tells Thomas the entire story, from his name-

(“My name is Augustus, and I’m your Creativity.”“... Do I have a third Creativity I didn’t know about?”Augustus lets out a nervous chuckle, one hand moving to absentmindedly smooth out his sash. “It’s… a little more complicated than that, I’m afraid.”)

-up to the day Roman and Remus fused again, bringing him back -even if just for a little while.

(He doesn’t talk much about The Split. For him, it’s still somewhat of a bleeding wound, raw and fresh in his mind as the ghost of the pain and terror and internal conflict he had to go through back then still haunts him everywhere he goes.)

(What Augustus doesn’t miss, is the way Patton shifts uncomfortably when he briefly touches the subject, expression shifting between guilt and a touch of shame. A part of him  -the one that still blames Patton for all that happened- quietly revels in it, enjoying maybe a little too much the way the moral side squirms and pointedly avoids Augustus’ gaze as he goes on with the story.)

(It’s petty, and he knows it, but Augustus also knows it’ll take a while before he can fully forgive Patton -both for their shared past and his behavior towards Remus. So he just takes in a deep breath and moves on, closing his eyes and letting himself get lost in the story.)

The others butt in once in a while, adding little details and occasionally their own side of the story, and in the end, Thomas simply nods and gives Augustus a tentative smile.

“That’s… quite the story. Looks like you guys have been quite busy in the last few days.”

The others shrug in various degrees of agreement.

“To be clear-” Augustus pipes up, looking strangely uncertain as he pointedly avoids Thomas’ gaze- “I’m not here to take Roman’s and Remus’ place. I’ve stepped away from my place as your Creativity the moment I split for the first time, and I’ve got no intention of taking it back.”

“Oh!” Thomas blinks, taken aback, “oh yeah, of course! I wouldn’t ask you to -not that I don’t like you! You’re a great guy and everything, but Roman and Remus are, well...” Thomas trails off, searching for the right words to say what he wants to say.

“Irreplaceable.” Patton and Deceit tentatively say at the same time, sharing a glance before looking away.

“Yeah.” Thomas agrees, looking somewhat guilty -like he’s somehow betraying Augustus with his words.

But all the king can feel is utter, swooping relief, tension leaving his body as he visibly relaxes.

“It’s okay,” he says, letting a chuckle escape his mouth when Thomas gives him a surprised look, ���Roman and Remus are your Creativity and have been so way longer than me -they helped you in ways I never could have, accomplished feats I probably could have only dreamed of. I may be the sum of them, but to be completely honest?”

Augustus smiles, eyes twinkling in pride as he widens his arms in a grand gesture, “Had I been at their place, I’m not sure you’d have ended up where you are now in life. And I’m so, so proud of them for helping you achieve a kind of happiness I probably could have never given you.”

Silence falls in Thomas’ living room, everyone staring at Augustus with varying looks of wonder on their faces.

Then, Virgil lets out a snort, shoulders shaking in laughter. “Dude, that was cheesy as fuck. What are you, a proud papa?”

Augustus rolls his eyes, shaking his head with a smile on his face. “Oh, shut up you little shit. Show some respect to your elders, would you?”

Virgil’s grin only widens, eyes twinkling with mirth as he gives the king a half-hearted shrug. “Nah.”

“It would not be too far off though. As the original Creativity, Augustus could be considered Roman’s and Remus’father, in some ways .”

“Logan, now I feel old.”

“Be careful, next thing you know you’ll start complaining about the ‘good old days’ and start yelling at random kids to step off your lawn.”

“Dee, I’m not above hiding every single one of your bowler hats -I know you have an entire collection you dramatic little shit, don’t even try to deny that- and exchange them for the most ridiculous kind of hats I can think of.”

“You touch my hats and they will never find your body.”

Thomas doesn’t miss the way Patton shies away from the conversation, uneasiness written all over his features as he steals occasional uncertain looks in Augustus’ direction when he thinks no-one is looking.

That’s, however, a conversation for another day. For now, Thomas lets the familiar bickering wash over him, a small, content smile on his face as he closes his eyes and leans back on the couch.

[escapismprison]

stutter- c.b.

a.n.- hey y’all, i wrote this a little while ago and i thought i might as well post it. there’s nowhere near enough friends fics, especially for chandler so. i listened to stutter by maroon 5 while writing it so if you wanna get the vibe, listen to that. this is set around season 1 of friends bc that’s the best chandler look tbh. also i would die for mondler. enjoy ✨

the first time you opened the door to central perk you noticed two things:

one, the smell of your saviour, your messiah, your own personal jesus (although depeche mode was never really your thing). coffee.

two, a group of six twenty-somethings, making slightly too much noise, hanging around a collection of comfy-looking sofas and chairs near the centre of the café.

now fairly obnoxious groups of friends wasn’t something you weren’t used to, often being a member of said groups meant you were surrounded by them in clubs, work etc. however, this particular group caught your eye. seating yourself at the bar and sneakily inspecting them further, it’s instantly evident there are six very different personalities within the collection.

you see one girl with short-ish blonde hair (who’s conventionally attractive looks pen her to be the princess) playfully poking a cute, cheerful, mixed-raced guy who appears to be enjoying the attention. the player, you assume. next, you cast your eyes over to the worn sofa and see a woman with black bobbed hair and sharp cheekbones, sat with her hands placed carefully in her lap, listening intently to her wildly gesticulating other-blonde-friend. the mom friend and the weirdo, of course.

finally, the last pair in the bunch contains a dopey-eyed, tall guy- the brainiac- who is trying to get the attention of his floppy-haired, attractive- very attractive actually- friend; who just so happens to be glued to his spot on the chair, staring at you with wide-eyes and mouth agape.

his brain seems to catch up with the rest of him, however, as he jerks himself out of his trance, meets your inquisitive gaze, and realises his current predicament. you watch with amusement while he desperately attempts to hide his ever-worsening blush with his hands, leaning on one with his elbow on the arm of his chair, then frantically switching to sitting upright and covering his mouth with the other.

quietly conversing with his friend, he covers the side of his face with one hand, acting as a shield to protect his cheeks from the burning sensation your stare has inflicted on them. despite his concerns, the gesture is pointless as, regardless of his make-shift barricade, the racket from the remainder of the shop would prevent you from hearing his impromptu confessional anyway.

you quickly note you haven’t thought of the role this man has in his friendship group and bring your gaze down to survey his fashion choices. these, unfortunately, don’t reveal a lot to you as baggy clothes and untucked shirts are typical current fashion. a trend follower maybe? though he hasn’t quite mastered the cool and collected persona of many men you had met before. (admittedly, these men had an 100% chance of ending up being dull as dish water.) but curiously, he didn’t seem to be a ‘many men’ kind of guy.

in your reverie you hadn’t noticed the man, as discreetly as possible, (so not very), pump himself up to approach the mysterious woman who had been observing him so carefully. you panic a little as this handsome figure hastily finishes his conversation with his, presumably, wingman companion. he has also managed to achieve the support of the group surrounding him, who award him with not-so-subtle thumbs ups and pats on the back. you clock a few evaluative glances thrown your way. turning your head to avoid their inspection, you manage to fumble into your handbag and pull out your round pocket-mirror, for a rushed last-minute appearance check. the mirror being an item that has been heralded as a life-saver many times in previous desperate situations.

by the time you have closed the mirror, placed it back in your bag and zipped it up again, the man is half-way to your stool at the bar. his friends watch his movements eagerly, waiting for the outcome of his brave decision.

you scan him as he nears you and re-affirm that he is definitely very attractive. a stab of nerves materialises in your stomach.

‘hi,’ he says ‘c-chandler is, my name.’ horror washes over his features while he visibly attempts to pull himself together. his hand twitches and hurriedly runs itself through his hair. you internally scream at this gesture because, amazingly, he has managed to make himself ten times more attractive with a single action.

you were fucked.

chuckling lightly at his apprehension and as a result of your own nerves, you reply with ‘hey chandler my name is (y/n)’ in an slightly incomprehensible mumble.

you all but giggled at your equally embarrassing anxious state. the childish sound made your cheeks heat up instantly and you meet the eyes of the man standing in front of you.

he seems to have somewhat regained his confidence as he gently laughs in relief at the realisation that his target is just as unsure as himself.

‘that wasn’t a great start was it?’ he sighs.

‘maybe not,’ you respond, smiling brightly at him, ‘but it was a start at least.’

a cheeky smile adorns his face that you’re pretty sure gave you heart palpitations for the few seconds proceeding it.

after a moment of eye-contact, chandler snaps himself out of his second trance of the day.

‘mind if i sit there?’ he asks, anxiety still lingering in his words while gesturing towards the empty seat to your right. you curse yourself for forgetting basic manners.

‘yeah of course.’

pleasant silence, with a twinge of awkwardness, settles over your end of the bar. you play with your hands and don’t quite notice the fascinated look chandler has. eyes fixated on your hands as they dance around each other in uncertainty.

‘so, hey.’

you gently break the quiet and hope to restore some momentum into your encounter.

‘oh, yeah sorry, hey.’ chandler gives you a lop-sided grin and adds ‘not really on my game today.’

you laugh.

‘so, uh i was just wondering if, yknow, possibly, maybe s- sometime? going out? would be nice?’ he bites his lip and reckless-you wants to jump into his lap, wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him hard.

but you don’t do this, much to reckless-you’s disappointment.

instead, your eyes widen slightly, the sudden request taking you by surprise, but the warm feeling from his adorable vulnerability and openness overpowers any shock.

‘yeah, sure.’ you give a kind smile.

‘oh, i’ll give you my number.’ he briskly pats his trousers and recognises his lack of phone.

‘shit, sorry don’t have it. i’ll go check over there.’ he gets up to leave and you reach for his wrist.

‘no it’s fine’ you assure, tugging him back to his seat gently.

quickly grabbing a notepad from your bag, you scribble your number with a stray pen lurking at the bottom of the bag.

‘a lady that’s prepared huh?’

you shake your head playfully as you attempt to rip the paper in a straight-ish fashion. you’re suddenly aware you’re under scrutiny of the man in front of you and your heightened nerves cause you to tear haphazardly and make a huge mess of it. tiny scraps of paper fall from your hands as you sigh at yourself.

he chuckles and you meet his eyes. ‘god they’re right about blue eyes’ you think. as the saying goes, you found yourself drowning in them.

you jump slightly when he clears his throat and it’s your turn to feel embarrassed about being entranced. he’s wearing a smirk that you’re not sure if you should hit him or kiss him for.

‘here,’ he says, holding out his hand, palm faced-down onto the table in front.

‘you could write your number on there?’

‘yeah. good idea.’ you hold out your dominant hand and place the tip of the pen on the back of his sacrificial hand. you shakily inscribe your number and it’s a miracle you could remember it in the melt-down state you’ve found yourself in.

‘there.’ you pat your handiwork and fleetingly admire the natural art of chandler’s hands. you decide his faintly protruding veins and bones make for a particularly pretty exhibition.

‘thanks.’ he says.

‘no problem’ you reply.

sharing equally sheepish smiles, flushed cheeks and all, you look at each other. you look down at your watch and realise with regret you need to get to your job interview.

‘shit. i gotta go, job interview.’

‘oh wow. good luck, you’ll do great.’ he smiles kindly. ‘way too cute.’ you think.

he leaves his seat and you stand up next to him, putting your jacket on.

‘until next time?’ he proposes.

‘yeah of course.’ you gesture towards his hand containing your details. ‘call me.’

‘definitely.’ he grins at you and you grin back.

‘see you.’ you say, not really wanting this to end, but deciding that you’d like to have means to pay rent.

‘mhm.’ he replies, not seeming to be paying much attention, eyes casting over you as if he was trying to burn you into his memory. in a moment of uncharacteristic boldness, you get on your tip toes and kiss him gently on the cheek.

he blushes at this and gives you the biggest smile yet.

‘bye chandler.’ you squeeze his hand and make your way to the door you entered through, when you were completely unaware of the adorable guy sitting in the group of six obnoxious twenty-somethings. when walking out the door and past the windows of central perk, you don’t notice chandler sinking to the floor and clutching his heart. and you also didn’t know that this was a telltale sign that he had, literally and figuratively, fallen for you.

[haikyuu-drabble]

hello! can i request a scenario between Oikawa and his s/o's (preferably a female classmate's) first kiss on a date? thank you so much!

this ended up being way longer than i expected but uhh what’s new lmfao thank you so much for requesting! it also took way longer than i thought it would but thats bc i made a twitter and got distracted w it lmfao 

_______

oikawa x fem reader | Dazed

word count: 1719

You were sitting in homeroom talking to your friends. One of them asked, “So, how are you and Oikawa doing?”

You smiled and shrugged, “I don’t know. Good, I guess. It’s still pretty early so it’s hard to say.”

“Look at you! Trying to act like you don’t think much of it.” your friend snickered, “But you can’t hide the emotions on your face. You’re so happy.”

You rolled your eyes at your friend, but the blush on your face betrayed you, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Your other friend laughed and asked, “So, does that mean you guys have kissed already?”

Your mouth dropped open, and you quickly replied, “That’s none of your business!! Don’t ask me that!”

Your friends looked at each other and laughed. One said, “I think that means they have.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” another friend responded, “It’s already been a while since they started dating. It’d be weird if they hadn’t.”

You covered your ears with your hands, “That’s it. I’m done talking with you guys.”

After class, you stopped by Oikawa’s homeroom to say goodbye to him since he was staying back at school for practice. You saw some of his classmates snickering when they saw you calling out for him. You understood where they were coming from since teasing Oikawa was such an easy thing to do. The first thing you looked at were his lips. Thankfully, your friends didn’t figure it out, but you hadn’t kissed Oikawa yet.

You’d heard all the rumors of him being lady’s man. It’s why you were so hesitant to date him at first. However, things worked out the way they did, and you ended up dating him. It had actually been a couple of months since the two of you started dating, and in that time, Oikawa really showed that he treasured you, and you came to enjoy being around him. You believed that he liked you, but there were times when you doubted yourself. Oikawa was a guy who could get any girl he wanted, and yet, he chose you. Your friends reminding you of him kissing you didn’t really help with your self-confidence.

“Hello?” Oikawa waved his hand in front of your face, “Are you there?”

You hadn’t even realized that you were zoning out, and you quickly answered, “Yes! Sorry, what was it you were saying?”

Oikawa laughed, “I was asking if you wanted me to walk you to the gate since I can’t go home with you.”

You shook your head and smiled, “That’s okay. I don’t want you to be late to practice.”

“I’m the captain. I won’t get in trouble for being late!” he grinned.

You rolled your eyes, “Being captain is exactly why you should show up time. Besides, we’re going on a date tomorrow evening, right? We’ll have all the time in the world then.”

Oikawa crossed his arms and frowned, “You’re so responsible.”

“Well, one of us has to be.” you smiled, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Oikawa waved at you, and you headed towards to gate alongside your friends.

The next day, you got ready for your date, and Oikawa picked you up from your house right on time. When you opened the door you smiled, “It always surprises me with how timely you can be.”

“I can be responsible.” He smiled.

“Yeah,” you laughed, “when you want to.”

The first place you headed to was a café. You both took your orders, and Oikawa immediately started talking. You tried to listen as intently as you could, but you were staring at his lips yet again. It kept you up all night as to why he hadn’t kissed you yet. Did he really like you that much? If he did, wouldn’t he have you kissed you already? Oikawa called your name again, and you sheepishly smiled, “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

Oikawa pouted, “C’mon. I was telling you a really important story!”

You bowed your head, “I’m sorry! I promise that I’ll listen to you well this time.”

“Fine.” Oikawa conceded, “As I was saying, Makki and Mattsun made a joke that made Iwa-chan snort milk out of his nose yesterday.”

You burst out laughing, “That’s your important story?”

Oikawa shrugged, “It’s not every day that Iwa-chan embarrasses himself.”

“Because usually you’re the one causing the embarrassment?” you teased.

“Exactly.” Oikawa held up a peace sign.

“You just gotta feel bad for Iwaizumi for dealing with you all the time.” You chuckled.

“You’ll be doing that too from now on, right?” Oikawa smiled.

Your face turned red, and you nodded in response, “Of course.”

Oikawa wasn’t expecting you to readily agree to his comment, and it caught him off guard causing him to blush. He bowed his head, “I’ll be in your care then.”

After you two finished eating, the two of you headed to the mall. Oikawa wanted to get new frames for his glasses, and he wanted your help to see which frames suited him best. While he was looking through the huge collection of glasses, you went off to look at some of the random makeup they had on the side. You came upon some of the lipsticks, and you remembered the kiss thing all over again. From behind you, someone asked, “Which one do you think will look the best on me?”

You immediately jumped and looked behind you to see Oikawa, “None of them!”

Oikawa immediately frowned at you and help up a pair of glasses in each hand, “You really think neither of these frames will look good on me?”

You shook your head, “Sorry. That’s not what I meant. I thought you were talking about lipsticks.”

“Lipsticks?” Oikawa repeated confusedly.

“It’s nothing.” You replied, “But, I think the ones in your left hand are nicer.”

Oikawa raised a brow suspiciously at you but shook it off. He tried on the pair that you suggested and nodded his head, “You’re right. These ones definitely suit me better.”

After Oikawa ordered his glasses, the two of you decided to just walk around the mall. Oikawa found a dress that he thought would suit you and managed to get you to try it on. You looked in the mirror and was surprised to see that it actually suited you. When you came out of the dressing room to show Oikawa, you saw two girls talking to your boyfriend. Your shoulders dropped and immediately stepped back into the dressing room.

When you came out, the dress was back on the hanger, and Oikawa showed a perplexed face, “Weren’t you going to try it on?”

You smiled softly, “Yeah, but it didn’t really suit me.”

“I think you’re being hard on yourself.” Oikawa crossed his arms, “Show it to me!”

You put the dress back on the rack and shook your head, “No, really. It doesn’t suit me.”

Oikawa frowned but nodded at you. The two of you walked out the store, and he asked, “Is there anywhere else you want to go to today?”

“Nowhere in particular.” You looked down.

Oikawa turned to face you and asked, “Are you feeling alright?”

You smiled in response but didn’t say anything.

The rest of the date was pretty silent, and at the end of the night, Oikawa walked you home. Nearly halfway to your house, Oikawa grabbed your hand and asked, “What’s wrong? You’ve been weird all day.”

You looked away from him and said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Oikawa put his hand to your cheek and softly asked, “Please. Tell me what it is. Maybe I can help you fix it.”

You could see the sincerity in his eyes, and you felt your face heat up. You pulled his hand away from your face and smiled, “I’m fine.”

The sincerity in Oikawa’s eyes changed to hurt. Oikawa asked, “Do you not trust me?”

You immediately shook your head, “No! No! I do! I swear. I just… don’t know.”

“It’s fine if you don’t want to tell me.” Oikawa sighed, “Just let me walk you home.”

He took a couple steps ahead of you, and you could feel your stomach drop. You suddenly yelled, “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?!”

Oikawa quickly turned around, and you saw his blushing face. “Huh?!”

In a quieter voice, you repeated, “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

Oikawa suddenly fell into the fetal position and hid his face with his arms. You ran to him and squatted next to him to reach his level, “Are you alright?”

Oikawa looked at you and said, “Is that really what’s been making you act so weird lately?”

You frowned, “Can you blame me? We’ve been dating for a couple of months, and you haven’t kissed me. Of course, I’d be worried that you don’t like me.”

Oikawa looked down and his face got even more red. He mumbled something into his arms, but you couldn’t understand a word. You asked, “What’d you say?”

Oikawa moved his arm from his face and said, “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for a while now… but I’ve been too nervous to.”

You looked at him with wide eyes, “Really?”

“Really.” He confirmed.

You closed your eyes, and Oikawa asked, “What are you doing?”

You shut your eyes even tighter, “I’m waiting for you to kiss me.”

You continued to keep your eyes closed, and you felt his hand on your cheek. You were waiting for it, but then Oikawa burst out laughing, “You really are the cutest.”

You opened one eye and saw his laughing face. You laughed alongside with him, and he stood up, “Let’s go?”

He held out your hand so you could grab it. You grabbed it, and he helped you to stand up. Oikawa responded, “Let’s get you home.”

“But you didn’t kiss me!” you responded.

“The timing is weird!” Oikawa blushed.

You pulled the hand that was holding yours down, and Oikawa’s top half went down with it. You managed to give him a quick peck on the lips and laughed, “How about that timing, you annoying airhead?!”

You let go of his hand and ran ahead of him. Oikawa put his hand to his lips which felt warm from yours. He grinned before chasing after you, “I’m totally going to get you back for that!”

[seduceme-lovestruck-thearcana]

Diego x MC

OKAY! I suddenly thought of this and had to write it down and save it in my drafts bc Ik I would forget it later. This is about MC and Diego planning their wedding.

Because fuck Dracula and I’m still in the corner crying about what’s happening to Diego and I hope this can lift up our spirits

Or well other people’s spirits since I always think my stuff is trash.

But anyway take this!!!!

Also this in a time where they defeated Dracula after he tried to kill Diego bC fuck it and I’m skipping the heartbreak and just taKE IT

Also since I probably won’t be able to describe the dress properly to make you imagine it I wanted this kind of dress for the MC:

This type of dress has always been my dream dress. Idk them sleeves make me lose it and I LOOOOVE THEM. I just love how they’re in a like flower form. But never mind back to the story

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

“I have to pick out my dress soon,” MC said. Diego had finally proposed and MC couldn’t be more excited. Now that they got rid of Dracula, they could finally prepare. Diego looked up from the computer where he was typing from. He was excited about our wedding but still needed to do his patients from time to time. However, he usually spent time off just to help get things together. I loved how sweet he was. Even if he had his head in his ass for awhile when he told me he “couldn’t propose”. But it all worked out in the end. “Why don’t you take Havenfalls Finest with you?” I smiled at the nickname. Whenever me or Diego wanted to refer to the group, instead of saying their names we would just say “Havenfalls Finest”. “Oh yeah, I can’t let you see my dress,” I said as I laid my head on his his shoulder, looking at what he was typing. He laid his head on my head and hummed. “Gotta keep tradition alive.” I could already tell he was smirking like a smartass. I got above him and he looked up at me. “MC, what are you-“ I gave him a noogie. He moved his computer and started to pull me down into his lap. He smiled at me so evil. “Diego. Don’t,” I told him. He continued to smile that smile and slowly moved his hands above me. I tried to scramble away to no avail. He started touching my ribs and tickling me. “Diego stop!” I shouted in between my laughs. He moved up to my neck and I couldn’t stop laughing. Well, it was a mix between laughing and screaming for mercy. He suddenly stopped and I starting breathing again. I looked at him and saw him smile the most amazing smile at me. “Do you know that you’re my best friend?” I asked him. Diego seemed taken aback by what I said. “Really?” He said to me with a childlike wonder look on his face. I smile and laugh and nod. “I thought JD or Grace would’ve been your best friend,” he said with all honesty. I laughed even more. “They are but you’re my best best friend,” I told him. Diego pulled me up and kissed me very passionately. After he pulled away, he started to work on his patients information and I just watched. I know it’s confidential but Diego has basically thrown that out the window. He’s told me a lot of patient stories. I loved that he trust me that much.

Soon the day had come when I needed to pick out my dress. “I need to find a day when you are all available,” I told the group. We met at the bowling alley like usual on my day off. “I’m available right now,” Razi said. “I’m available as well,” JD said. Mackenzie said the same thing. And of course, Grace said the same as well. Since she found out Diego proposed, she came home for this one day and decided to help me pick out my dress. However, I already had a specific dress in mind. Grace knew this too but she wanted to help me find the right one. Me and grace loved to talked about our future weddings. However, as I grew up, I started to think that nobody would love me. Now, I have someone who loves me like I love him. I knew Grace was thinking “I told you so” to me when I found that someone loved me. I can see all of Havenfalls Finest have a big grin on their face. I was happy that my family wanted to come with me. Antonio and Eva would also go along. I’m not brave enough yet to call them Family. Especially, Antonio. I’ve moved past the sister kidnapping thing but I haven’t forgotten it all the way.

They take me to a really fancy one in Indianapolis. I looked around and I saw a lot of white and very fancy dresses. Razi has Diego’s credit card since he couldn’t go with us. Mainly because of tradition but also since he was very busy today. “Do you have any dresses in mind?” Mackenzie asked me. Grace basically beamed. “Yeah I do,” I said a bit happily. Before I could explain a lady came up to us to show us where to find the dresses and the dressing room. The lady also asked me what kind of dress I had in mind and I explained it. “Ive always wanted a long dress, a bit puffy, but not too puffy, and it has those see through flower sleeves,” I told her. Everyone else looked confused. However, that lady, and Grace, both smiled at me. “Follow me,” the lady said. She took me to a section that had to dress I really wanted. She pulled out one dress and showed it to me. “This one is about 5,000 dollars,” the lady said with a smile. I instantly let out a little oof. Antonio lowkey hit me on the back. I ignore it for awhile. “I’ll leave it here for you and you can pick out any other dresses you’d like to try on,” she said. As soon as she walked away, I turned around and punched Antonio in the chest. “Don’t hit me,” I said. Eva and everyone else couldn’t help but a laugh a bit. Before Antonio could say anything, Razi cleared his throat. “So, what dress do you think you would like? Or would it just be this one,” Razi asked me. I looked at the dress and being honest, I loved it. My 7 year old self would be screaming and jumping up and down. But, I kept my composure. “Yeah, I should try this one on first,” I told them. Grace smiled and looked like a 4 year old when their parents said they could have some candy. “Now we just need to find a dressing room,” I said. We asked one lady and we found a room. “Do you think you might need some help?” Grace asked me. I looked at the dress and nodded. “I’ll come in and help,” Grace said.

Grace has pulled me into a dressing room while everyone else waited outside. Grace had helped me put my dress on and when it was on Grace let out a little gasp. I turned around and to be honest, I was in shock. Ever since I’ve been young, I never really liked what I looked like. I never had full confidence or liked anything about myself. Yet, I was fully confident this time. It didn’t make me feel uncomfortable. There was no cleavage, the sleeves felt so smooth and soft. The dress wasn’t too puffy. Grace came up behind me and hugged me. “Do you think mom and dad would be proud?” I couldn’t help but laugh a bit. Some with sorrow yet some with happiness. I couldn’t believe my parents wouldn’t be there for our weddings. “Yeah. They would be,” I whispered to her. She clapped my shoulders and walked to the door. “You ready to show everybody?” She asked me with the biggest smile on her face. I nodded. She opened the door and I took a deep breath and walked out there. I got in front of the big mirror in the room and I looked even more beautiful than ever. “It looks so pretty,” Eva said. “It’s really beautiful, MC,” Mackenzie said. Everyone else almost said the same thing. To be honest, JD surprised me with how nice and sincere they were being. “Do you think this is the right one?” Razi asked me. To be honest, I was already tired. Being a vampire should make me not tired but nope. I hate trying on clothes for so long. I loved this dress a lot. The dress I’ve always wanted. I nodded and smiled.

“Yes.”

We had payed and starting to head back to the bowling alley. By the time we got back, Diego had met us there since he didn’t have any more patients for the day. “Did you have fun?” Diego said. I smiled and nodded. “She only tried on one dress so it was pretty fast,” JD said. Diego seemed a bit surprised. “One dress?” He said. I nodded. “There was always a certain dress I’ve had in mind and I got that dress and I love it,” I explained to him. “I can show you-“ JD started. I glared at them and they backed down. “Never mind,” they said a bit sadly. Everyone else laughed at their tone. “When are you planning anything else and do you need any help?” Mackenzie said. I looked at Diego and raised an eyebrow. “Do we need any help?” I had asked him. He thought about it for a moment and shook his head. “We can probably manage by ourselves,” he said. Everyone looked a bit grim. “We’ll come to you if we need any help,” I said to hopefully lift their moods. They all got a little happier at that. For the rest of the night we had done some drinks and talked about the wedding. We had planned a few things there before we got really drunk and decided to not do anything that we would regret.

Diego and me got home and as soon as he walked in he couldn’t help but ask me a question. “Are you seriously not gonna let me see the dress?” Diego said. I smiled mischievously at him. I walked over to him and leaned into him and got in his face. “Nope,” I said very softly. I laughed and pulled away and went to the bed. However, before I could sit down I felt someone’s hands wrap around my waist and lift me up in the air. “Diego!” I screamed to him. He threw me on the bed and got in between my legs and started playfully biting on my neck and kissing it. “Diego,” I started. Diego looked up at me and moved a piece of my hair out of my face. He looked into my eyes and he looked so in Love. Whatever he saw in my eyes made him just stare at me. “What is it?” I ask him laughing. He just shook his head. “It’s nothing,” he said. “I’m just looking at my fiancée .

That made my heart melt. I thought it was nice to be called his lover or girlfriend. But fiancée is a whole new level and I love it. I couldn’t even say anything. So I didn’t. I leaned in and kissed him on the lips. Diego put his hand on my cheek and stroked it. He pulled away from and laid his head on my chest. I ran my fingers through his hair. I could hear him let out a groan of pleasure and he closed his eyes. “I love you, MC,” he told me. I kissed the top of his head. “I love you too, Diego,” I whispered to him.

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

Okay. I’m sorta proud of this but at the same time I’m cringing. OKAY. I hope this is good???! Idk. I’m actually cringing but then I love it. Idk. I hope this was okay and not as cringey to you as it was to me. But thanks for reading. And you can request anything to me at all since I’m bored and I’m done writing this so I need something to do.

But thanks for reading and ily and have a nice day

[marklineson]

Lost in a Loop (#02)

Kim Jongdae x Fem!Reader

You keep losing your memory every time you fall asleep. Is it possible for someone like you to live a normal life and experience a romance that lasts a lifetime?

Word Count: 5.1k

Genre: Fluff, Angst; 

Title Track: To Reach You (Memory Control, PD48)

Warning: lots of occasional swearing bc idk, they’re all stupid kids and need help with their anger management (war of hormones, otl) & a bit of violence & drinking; also lots of cringey moments;         -Rosy out;

#02 Enchanting.

- May 05th, 2018

“You're up late today, son.” Jongdae winced under the stern glance of his father, fastening his steps as he made his way through the living room, with the kitchen as his destination.

He had ended up falling asleep around 5 in the morning, and now, five hours of nightmares and uncomfortable twisting and turning later, he had decided to get up and call it a night. He was sure you had already gotten up, not remembering a letter of the conversation you'd had with him, but he was worried.

Why did she do that?, he constantly questioned himself as he poured himself the rest of the instant coffee his father had prepared for breakfast, Why did she ask me about my feelings? Is she interested in me? He felt a tiny spark of hope flare up behind his sternum, but then again it also could have just been the heat of the beverage in his cup.  

He flipped the case of his phone aside and opened said conversation, shaking a bit when he saw your profile picture next to your name.

Do you love me?

I don't know, he kept whining in his head, How am I supposed to know? I'm eighteen years old, for fuck's sake. Frustrated, he slammed the phone shut again and sat down with a bowl of cereal in hand. I must have been out of my mind when I said yes- let her reread our conversation and she'll think I'm a creep. Shit.

~

As if on cue, his father stepped into the room the moment Jongdae hat put the last bit of milk in his mouth, spoon still hanging from his lips when the bowl was snatched away from him.

“Ey! Dad!”, he exclaimed, his father gifting him with another stern look.

“It's Saturday, Jongdae.”

“I wanted to at least eat some breakfast before I meet up with the guys and-”

“Didn't you promise me to help out today because you got home late yesterday?”

Ah, true. Detention had caused him to get home late yesterday. He mentally kicked Chanyeol, but then again, his friend had gotten the worst punishment ever after school in form of his harpy girlfriend.

“So... you really want me to help out at the clinic today?” His father simply nudged his shoulder, ignoring the pout on his Jongdae's face.

“Money is earned through hard work, son- especially when it comes to part-time jobs.”

“Uh-huh”, Jongdae answered, gulping down the rest of his still hot coffee -Seriously, how long had he sat down for breakfast? Five minutes?- and got up to follow his father through the entrance area and the white door that connected the living space of the house with the vet clinic his father owned.

“So, what can I help you with? Did the supplies arrive yet?” His father blinked at him, obviously impressed, nodded and motioned for Jongdae to go outside where the packages stood. “Nice. Let me stash them away for you.”

The elder nodded, a hand on his son's shoulder before he went back into the clinic. “If you need help, you know where your good old dad is.” But Jongdae quickly sent him back inside, happy to have something to do that would occupy him.

~

I must have been out of my mind.

Jongdae wondered if he had actually hoped to be able to forget about last night, or if he had wanted to reminisce in old memories when he'd told his dad he would take care of the delivered supplies. The more he got used to his task, the wider his thoughts trailed off into the distance, and whenever he set a foot into the storage room, all he could think about were the many times the two of you used to hide in there when you played hide-and-seek with the others.

He was sure that tending to the customers as they waited inside would have been much more effective than stashing away pills and cat food.

Do you love me?

“Morning! Nice weather, isn't it?” He greeted you, making his voice sound extra cheerful. His father snickered from inside the clinic. Oh, shit.

But his face fell for a moment when he saw you simply standing there, watching him with your eyebrows up, slightly chewing on your bottom lip. Another oh, shit moment, taking into count how pretty you looked with your hair down and your white skirt swaying in the gentle breeze.

Jongdae did his best to regain his confidence by clearing his throat.

“What? Cat's got your tongue?” He laughed, mentally shitting himself when he didn't see your face lighting up.

“Oh, good... morning”, you muttered, starting to shift under his intense gaze because it made you feel awkward, “I just didn't know we were... close enough to greet each other in public.”

Ouch.

“Of- of course we are, we're classmates. We should always greet each other, in and out of school!”

You mustered him up and down, making him feel like he shrunk down to bite-size under your earnest expression. “...I see. Well, are we done here? Since we greeted each other?” He released a sigh that fit his deflated expression and merely nodded, seeing you smile at him with a slight bow and starting to walk on, when-

“Please- wait, there's actually something I gotta ask-” Jongdae was relieved when you turned around on your heels and blinked at him, the edges of your mouth rising once more. He felt his stomach twist as the heat crept up his cheeks, unstoppable and cruel.

Do you love me?

It's either that or the sun's finally getting the best of me.

~

“You should have told me about the project for chemistry earlier! I could have grabbed my books and made my way here right away.” You exclaimed as Jongdae's father handed you a glass of juice, ice cubes clinking gently when you took a sip. “Chemistry is important to you, isn't it? Only if you still want to become a scientist in the future, that is.”

Jongdae nearly choked on a cube he was chewing on when he realized you had actually memorized a fact that was related to him, but his hopes where crushed right away when you mentioned you had skipped through your last year book because you had gotten curious about your friends' wishes for the future and had read about him there as well.

“I...”

He scratched his neck, obviously thinking of a smart remark he could surprise you with, when the voice of his dad came to his rescue.

“...So, Y/N, how is Nemo doing these days?” Mr. Kim directed his curious eyes at you while filling his own glass. “I haven't seen him strolling around our house for a while now.”

“I actually thought of paying you a visit with him today- he hasn't been eating at all today, but my  mom said he's never been that much of an eater, so it might be the weather?”

Jongdae furrowed his eyebrows, clearly remembering you telling Yeri about Nemo gobbling down a whole bowl of cat food within a minute. He also remembered you asking your mom for your allowance in advance because you had to buy him more food, and when she said no, you had begged Jongdae to gift you with cat food for your birthday four years ago.

“Well, Nemo's about 15 years old, after all. It could be the weather, or it could be that he's just becoming more lazy as he becomes older, but maybe you should bring him here regardless of that- you were supposed to come here for his yearly check-up in June, anyway.”

You nodded at that, visibly happy to have such a great vet to take care of Nemo, your furry best friend. “I'll try to pay you a visit with him on Monday, then.”

Jongdae, who had been getting more or less lost in his memories, his gaze fixated on your beaming face, shrinked a little when you suddenly directed your attention at him again.

“So, do you want to start with the chemistry project right away? I could go home and get my things for-”

Yes. Yes- Say yes for god's sake! An unknwon voice kept screaming in his head, screaming at him to give in to what seemed like his chance to spend some time alone with you, but the feeling of his heart thumping so fast that it seemed to be about to burst caused him to do otherwise.

“I, eh- Sorry, but I already have plans for today.” Jongdae was sure of his mind playing tricks on him, because, for a mere second, he thought he'd seen your face fall- but he was sure he'd been wrong when you smiled at him and his dad as you got up- obviously, you were getting ready to leave.

“In that case, I'll be on my way to the grocery store. It was nice to chat with the two of you- Mr. Kim, Jongdae.” You waved at them before grabbing your bag and exiting the back of their clinic.

Jongdae's gaze followed your swaying hair when he was suddenly nudged by his father, making him groan. “Dad-”

“I already told you when you were ten and I know it made you cry, but I'll disown you if you don't make her my in-law, Jongdae.”

Blushing, Jongdae got up, his dad handing him some money before he practically ran out to follow you.

~

“Didn't you say you were a bit short on time because you had plans today?” You eyed him curiously, raising your eyebrows a bit at the large smile that had been plastered on his face ever since he'd managed to take you to this ice cream parlor a few minutes away from the grocery store.

“Yeah, I mean, I don't think we'd have had enough time to finish the project today because of that.”

“Who are you meeting up with, by the way?” Jongdae took his time before answering, his mind fully captivated by the redness that was crawling up your neck and, finally, cheeks, or the sight of you fumbling with the hem of your dress to avoid eye contact.

“I'm... going to meet the guys- Chanyeol, Baekhyun, and a few others you might not really know.”

“Oh. I see... like a guys' night out?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Not really- Y-you could even tag along if you want. There will be other girls you could chat or play with.”

Something in your chest stirred, causing you to look anything but pleased.

He had known. He'd noticed how perfect -well, regarding your actual relationship- everything had been going today. He'd been seeing you in town on your own a few times, greeting you and sometimes even chatting with you, but sooner or later, there'd always been something -someone- to distract you and pull you away from him. Today had been the day, and he wouldn’t have been Kim Jongdae if he hadn’t known how to ruin it for himself.

“What's up?” The burning sensation of his palm on your shoulder made you stop mid-action, your eyes darting upwards to meet his. Jongdae felt somewhat intimidated by the expression you were now gazing at him with, but it didn't make him feel uncomfortable at all. It was the first time in two years, he realized. The first time ever since his birthday two years ago, ever since you’d caused him to think you were feeling the way he did

Why did I even answer you? I should have apologized, nothing more. Stop getting so sentimental, Jongdae.

“I don't know if I should be honest with you, Kim Jongdae.” Your eyes darted back to the floor, head shaking merely as if to support your thoughts, negativities he wasn't supposed to hear. “I don't know if I should really trust you that far-” His breath got stuck somewhere between his nose and his lungs when you suddenly grabbed one of his hands with yours, and gosh, were they small. And soft. Jongdae would have bet on them even smelling good-

“But despite everything my friends keep telling me, despite everything that's written about you in my diary, I feel like I want to trust you.”

“You...” He barely withstood the urge to hold on to your hand, but he managed to gently push it away in the end. “I don't think you should be trusting someone like me, Y/N.”

“My diary says so, too- but somehow, meeting you like this made me feel otherwise.”

The boy scowled. He’d thought he’d heard wrong before, but- “Your... diary?”

You blushed, but went on either way. “Yes, well, it's rather something like a notebook I use to keep up with the most important details of my daily life. To remember the things I... I forget about.” It was weird for you to talk about something so... private, but it also felt good to have someone listen and you had to admit that, different from what your diary had said, Jongdae seemed to be a nice person- and a great listener. “I wonder what my friends would do if they saw me opening up to you that much.” You laughed a little, but stopped when you saw Jongdae's face darken.

“I'm sure they already would have pulled you away from me, just like they always do.” It was your time to furrow your brows. “They seem to think I'm a bad influence for someone like you- and they may be right, I don't know.”

“What makes you think that?” You wondered what he -someone like Jongdae- could have done to be pushed away by your small group of friends, who were both also kind and caring enough to take someone like you in. Instead of eagerly reaching for his hand, you grabbed the string of your bag for something like... an anchor in the midth of the mess that was your head. “Did something happen between our friends? You and one of the girls-”, you paused, taking a deep breath to calm your own nerves-” or even us?”

Jongdae felt your eagerness giving him goosebumps. Despite whatever he had thought before, he was sure that something deep, deep inside of you wanted to get close to him again- and seeing how you were seemingly pulled to him made him feel indescribably soft. Like the matching poles of two magnets someone kept pulling apart. He could practically feel his heart swell with every word of honesty you spoke- because lying, he guessed, was something you were not capable of. “I... Honestly, I don't know.”

He didn't want to risk hurting you by accidentally making you try to remember anything about yourself too much, but he had to admit he was just as curious as you. He still remembered the last day the two of you hung out freely, the last day he had made you laugh and carried your backpack. He had thought about it over and over again, but had never managed to find a reason for you to leave his side when he had thought that you'd -eventually, if only the heavens had been on his side-

felt just like him. “We stopped being close two years ago. Believe it or not, but I have no idea why.”

He saw your face fall, shoulders hanging, and it took him all of his self-discipline not to step up to you and engulf you in a hug. He could have easily done so, maybe you even wanted him to- and yet, he would have felt as if he was taking advantage of your situation. Jongdae was no coward (just sometimes, he secretly was), but taking your situation into count, he still wanted to leave the first steps of whatever the two of you were heading up to to you. He had been used to matching up to your pace, and he had promised himself he would never throw himself right at you (unless you wanted him to, and heck, how often did he catch himself thinking back to the old times, where you'd tug on his shirt for a hug)- he wanted to give you the space and time you needed to get used to him again, no matter how long it'd take.

So instead of getting closer, he shifted around awkwardly, his shoes causing the earth beneath them to scrunch a little. He nodded over to the parlor you’d been sitting next to for the time being. “So... you wanna go get some ice cream?”

But all you could do was shake your head. “I'm not sure if I'm still in the mood for ice cream...”

Jongdae bit his lip, this time unable to hold his hand back as it reached out to you on its own, a gentle pat on your back causing you to smile. “We could share? Eating something delicious may brighten your mood. What's your favourite flavour?”

You smiled at him, and his heart skipped a beat.

How could you not feel happier again, when Jongdae was trying so hard to cheer you up?

~

“You want to know about... what?”

You patiently waited while Yerim and Sooyoung looked at each other as if you'd just told them you'd move away tomorrow and never come back.

“I don't think there's anything worth knowing, sweetheart.” But Yerim's furrowed brows told you otherwise.

“I would like to know what happened between me and Jongdae”, you started, casually sipping on your shaken sweet tea. “ Something must have happened. I feel like we'd be much closer if it didn't- and he said he's clueless himself.”

You saw your friends scoffing in unision.  “He's what?!” Sooyoung slammed her hands on the table, half of the customers in the small café you'd met up in looking at her in shock. “He's a fucking idiot, Y/N, a fucking idiot! He's just as evil as his friends are!-”

“When did you even talk to him?”, Yerim asked as she yanked Sooyoung's butt back into her seat.

“Today. We met in front of his house and spontaneously went for ice cream.” You tried your hardest not to smile, but the glow on your face was impossible to hide. “I thought that if anyone would know, it should either be you or his friends.”

“Sweetie...” Yerim took your hands and gently pressed them while Sooyoung huffed and threw her head back, cheeks puffed in anger and frustration. “You know, it's not like we don't know about your feelings for Jongdae, but...”

“Yeri, stop. I don't want her to get close to these three pieces of garbage ever again. I gave Chanyeol another chance, and you saw what he made of it-”

“Why is this about you again, Sooyoung? Does each and every conversation have to revolve around you and that wanna-be-punk?”

“He's not- I mean, of course not”, the taller girl exclaimed, irritation washing over her face and revealing her inner state. “You know that all I want is to protect our friend from getting her heart broken over and over again- Park, Byun, Kim, they’re all the same kind of idiots. Insensitive, unbelievably mean and-”

“Girls, girls, girls- I fucking love him! ”, you threw in, both of your friends now looking at you, eyes wide and mouths agape. “This is my life, after all. I am a part of this group. I feel like I have every right to know about whatever happened between all of us.”

“It’s all in the past, sweetie, we should all calm down and think about what’s ahead of us, I guess”, Yeri patted your hand while Sooyoung raised her hand to order another round of tea and coffee for the three of you, but even the sugar-coated cookies she demanded as well could distract you.

“Sooyoung. Yeri. Please. You know me- my past, my future, everything’s unknown to me. The two of you are my number one source for everything that’s happened to me in the past years. What do you think I should do if even the two of you stop backing me up? What should I do with my future if I don’t even know who I am because my past is nothing but blurry?” Ugh, how you hated it to play that card- but it seemed to work just fine. 

“Sooyoung, I read about your break-up. Heck, I don’t even know how to comfort you because I barely even know what it’s like to love someone, to be loved, or to be broken up with and miss someone- I want that, too, no matter the outcome.” You leaned over to them, a pleading look on your face. You felt like crying, andeventually, it showed- because even if you had just started to act like a kicked puppy to convince them, it was true. You were scared of your future- but what scared you the most was spending your present without living. You still wanted to go out and have fun, live and love like everyone else. You were convinced that even for someone like you, romance was a possibility as long as your partner was someone who cared. Someone who tried- someone like him, you added in your head.

Just this once, please.

You saw the two of them exchanging glances, with Yeri biting her lip and Sooyoung blinking a tad bit too fast, trying to hide her watery eyes. “Fine, but... please don't swear again. Sooyoung's rubbing off on you way too much.”

“Stop babying me, Yeri. You're younger than me!” 

“Who cares about two months-” Sooyoung interrupting her by smacking the blonde's head made you crack up.

“What did you just say? I didn't hear you, Kim Yerim, I guess your bad hearing's rubbing off on me!”

~

Jongdae's mind was a freaking mess. With the memories of the past years and today all mixed together, the moments of tension that had practically drained him, he didn't even feel like attending Baekhyun's small party anymore- he would've rather spent time alone to think, to remember.

But he'd promised after all, and he had also said yes to band practice being set up for today due to the detention he'd gotten because Chanyeol'd behaved like a fucking caveman in class. He smiled, eyes crinkling in delight. He was reall walking through heaven and hell with that boy, but he was living for it- they were friends, after all.

“Yo, guys! It's me!”, he exclaimed as he opened the door to the small wooden hut in the Byuns' backyard, “What's going on?”

The guys immediately handed him a can of beer -Baekhyun's dad was a seemingly sad example of a single father, allowing the boys to drink at home to “man up” (when in reality, he rather had them drink at home than somewhere else, but how uncool did that sound)- and immediately discussed which song to play as an opening for tonights party and some new stuff Chanyeol had come up with, when Baekhyun put an arm around Jongdae's shoulders and slomped down next to him on the old, red leather sofa that had been a part of the Byuns' livingroom until three years ago, when Baekhyun had somehow managed to burn a butt-sized hole into one of the seats.

“I guess something good happened today? You're pretty much thrilled up today!” Jongdae sent a silent toast to his two friends and emptied his can before speaking.

“Well, you could say so. Nice weather-”

“-nice skirt, you mean.” Chanyeol took a seat in a blue armchair opposite to them. Baekhyun eyed them curiously, while Jongdae tried to hide in the collar of his shirt, immediately getting the hint.

“Your date was wearing a nice skirt today- a bit too long for my taste, but you've always been the conservative one here- Ey!”, the giant exclaimed when Jongdae's beer can collided with his head.

“Date? You were on a date?! Why didn't you tell us you had a girl wrapped around your little finger? Who is it? Spill the tea already!!” Baekhyun nudged Jongdae's side, obviously proud of his buddy.

Jongdae opened his mouth to speak, but before he could make sure that whatever answer he was going to give seemed solid, Chanyeol rolled his eyes and, holding his head, added “Naw, just kidding. I saw him in town with Brainy. They were eating ice cream. Should've seen them, Dae was so much into acting all lovey-dovey and sharing with her, I thought he was going to feed her at any moment- AH!” He tried to hold back his laughter, but failed miserably and ended up stubbing his toe at the coffee table.

“Serves you right!”, Jongdae happily yelled, before turning around to get some nice comment out of Baekhyun. “Doesn't it- hey, what's up? Someone stole your tongue?” He furrowed his eyebrows, repeating his friend's past action and nudging his shoulder playfully- but all he got was Baekhyun shoving him away and off the sofa. “Ey, what the fuck was that for?!”

“So, you're seeing her now?”, Baekhyun growled, head hanging low enough for his bangs to hide his face. “You're seeing each other? You're finally dating that sad excuse of a bitch-  Fine, congratulations.” He made an attempt to get up and walk over to his keyboard, but Jongdae was faster- he jumped up from his position on the floor and pushed Baekhyun back to the couch, making him trip over his own feet and causing him to fall backwards with his back hitting the leather first. “Jongdae, what the fuck?!”

“What's your fucking problem?”, Jongdae yelled, throwing his hands up in the air to express his irritation, but also ready for a possible fight. “I told-”

“-I think I should be the one asking you two just that”, Chanyeol threw in, getting between the two smaller guys to prevent any more damage. “Jongdae, lower your fucking butt and then talk it out!”, he shouted, causing the other two to shut up for a moment and get back to their senses, realizing he had usually been the one they had to calm down and aid him with his anger management.

“I definitely didn't intend to make the two of you scratch each others' eyes out when I made that stupid joke.”

Jongdae huffed once, twice, and eventually a third time before laying his eyes upon Baekhyun again. “So? I'm waiting for your answer, dumbass.”

“What's there to wait for? I already wished you well, asshole.” Baekhyun wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, facial expression still falling a mile a minute. “I hope you and that annoying little piece of crap will live well and experience your happy ever after.”

“What reason do you have to treat her like that? I remember you telling us you liked her, Baek!  Whenever you talk about her now, it's like you've become a whole different person! Did some kind of ghost get a hold of you and tell you to treat her like shit from one day to another? Or-”

“That's the fucking problem, you dumbass!” Chanyeol grabbed his chest in surprise, as Jongdae stayed unfaced by their friend getting up and slamming his hands flat on the table, their bottles jumping in unision.

“To be honest”, Baekhyun's voiced seemed forced and compressed, as if he tried his best to withstand the urge to talk, “I... like Y/N.”

Silence.

It was a weird, maybe even comical moment, with the rapid exchange of eye contact between Chanyeol and Jongdae, the latter feeling the hair in his neck standing up one after another, while Baekhyun shifted in his seat as if his blonde friend was a bomb that was about to explode. Unexpectedly, Chanyeol was the first one to regain his ability to speak.

“You what?”

“It's true. I've been in love with her for about... four years now”, Baekhyun started, elbows now resting on his knees, his face hidden in his hands to hide the embarrassment that started to show on his face.

“I... never knew”, Chanyeol mumbled, something like awe showing on his face, but he was too scared to drag things into a humorous direction just now. He'd never seen his friends in such a dead-serious moment, though he somewhat felt like this was all part of either a hidden camera prank, or some kind of cheesy romance novel.

“Well, me neither”, Jongdae growled, too overwhelmed by his own feelings of Baekhyun suddenly stepping up as a potential rival in a fight for your heart (though it was very unlikely that Yerim or Sooyoung would let you get close to any of them after what happened).

When Baekhyun realized his friends had nothing else to add, he continued, keeping his face low as he shifted awkwardly on the old red sofa beneath his butt. “I thought that, if I kept humiliating her, I would at some point start to believe in my own words, that I would like her less, maybe even dislike her someday- be able to let go and move on- but it's not that easy.” His gaze shifted to Jongdae, who was still furious, his whole body shaking from anger and irritation. “Whenever I hurt her, I saw your eyes, the sadness it pushed you into- and I knew that, while my head told me to stop this, my heart had made the right choice. She may be weird, but if someone like you falls for her, Y/N must be one hell of a girl- a rare catch, like a diamond.”

With his gaze still resting upon Jongdae, he missed the way Chanyeol furrowed his eyebrows and mouthed something along the line what the fuck?, falling into a trance as he slowly started to realize the direction this was taking.

“After a while, I noticed I like it when she cries or shies away from me- it's cute, but-”

“-Wow, you're one fucking asshole.”

Baekhyun sighed and nodded, eyes carrying a small glint of sadness. “True, Dae, I was going to say exactly that. I'm an asshole for making her feel so down, and I possibly hate myself the most for it- but I'm also your friend, and so I decided to start over. I promise I'll behave-”

Chanyeol regretted only waking up from his trance the second he heard the crack caused by Jongdae's fist hitting Baekhyun's nose with full force.

Back to the LiaL Masterpost || Chapter 3

tagging: @noona-clock​ @trishmarieco @cramelot @jjong-dae77 @lovebuginlove

[sept-dix]

crush on you

summary: guitarist!jaehwan au in which you work as an event organiser and meet artist jaehwan by chance

a/n: requested; title is taken from a song called crush by yuna ft usher and i recommend you listen to it while reading!

the biggest indie music festival in your city is of a massive scale - thousands of people from all over the place gather to watch it and the acts featured only grow in both quality and quantity as the years pass

so being an event organiser (especially that of such a big event which involves thousands of people and so many resources) isn’t easy in the slightest, and there are times when you get so overwhelmed with the number of things you need to keep track of that you find yourself googling the easiest method to fake your own death

but the satisfaction you feel when you see the event you’ve spent so many sleepless nights planning for run smoothly is bigger than the stress so ultimately you love your job

which is why you are about to burst a blood vessel when one of the biggest acts of the night goes missing half an hour before showtime

you’re just making your way around every artist’s waiting room to confirm that they’re all prepared and present for showtime, and everything’s going fine until you reach the waiting room of this duo called JAS (jaehwan and sewoon) ((lmao))

clearly it’s a duo, so there’s supposed to be 2 people, but when you open the door there’s only one person there

“mr sewoon, do you happen to know where mr jaehwan is? it’s nearly time for you guys to get on standby for showtime”

sewoon just looks up at you blankly from the phone he had been scrolling through and goes “idk, he’s probably here somewhere. he’ll come back soon though i think, he always does this” with absolutely zero hint of any anxiety or confusion in his voice

he thinks he’ll come back soon??? you are shocked by the calmness in his voice 

but you are you, you can’t be calm like that bc it’s literally your job to make sure that the jaehwan guy is in his waiting room at this time

so once you make sure that the rest of the acts are all fine you start half walking half jogging your way around the backstage areas looking for this dude

who is nowhere to be found

you check the waiting room once more but he isn’t there either

at this point your anxiety and anger levels are about to skyrocket as you start full out running to find him

and you are just about to call a superior to inform them about the situation when you hear guitar strums coming from behind you

behind you as in the area where artists aren’t even allowed 

you are definitely angry now because it had been made clear that artists aren’t allowed here so you stomp your way to the room only to find a guy tuning his guitar

“excuse me, are you mr kim jaehwan?”

the guy stops with the guitar and looks up at you

“yeah why?”

“the show starts in roughly 15 minutes so it would be good if you could make your way over to your waiting room now”

he just nods calmly and starts making his way out of the room and you feel a spark of irritation at that bc here was this guy who had blatantly gone against several rules and stressed you the heck out but now he’s walking out so calmly as if he has no idea what the impacts of his actions were

“i believe it was made clear yesterday that this area of the building is out of bounds for artists. it would be nice if you could follow the rules so that the show can run smoothly.”

he stops and turns behind to look at you and it angers you even more because he isn’t apologetic or surprised in the least,,,

in fact he is looking at you with so much amusement in his eyes and you gotta remind yourself that the safety of the artists’ is a priority bc if not for that you would have been ready to punch him right there and then

also he is staring at you for a lot longer than you thought necessary so now you’re also confused on top of everything else

“ok sorry i’ll take note from now on”

with that he leaves the room and you start giving yourself a pep talk telling yourself to drop it bc there are more important things you have to be doing right now

so that’s exactly what you do

you forget about this irritating guy and get back to preparing stuff for the show to start and then managing the artists once it does

by the time the entire festival is over it’s a little past midnight and you are dead tired

but work hasn’t ended though because you still have to make sure all the artists leave the building by 1.30am bc that’s how long you’ve rented the venue for

and so once more you are making your way around the artists’ rooms at close to 1.15am and you are relieved to find that most of them have left the building

you don’t have to care about what happens to them after that because your job description doesn’t have anything about that lol

anyways there you are checking the rooms one by one and making sure there’s no trash or whatever left behind

and when you get to jaehwan & sewoon’s waiting room what do you see?

that’s right, somehow they are both still there with all their stuff still strewn all over the room

what the heck

by this point you’re super tired and the show’s over anyways so you drop all formalities

“hey, we have to clear the building in like 15 minutes so can y’all pack up and get going? where’s your manager?”

to your horror jaehwan is looking at you super amused once again

like what’s so funny about you doing your job?

anyways they start slowly moving to pack their stuff after that and sewoon is polite enough to clarify that they’re late because their manager told them to wait til he gets the company car for them or whatever but since he hadn’t called them to tell them the car had reached they hadn’t left either

which meant that technically the fault wasn’t theirs, it was their shitty company’s

but even after the clarification you are inexplicably irritated with jaehwan just because of his damn amusement at you

once they’re done packing jaehwan turns to you (who’s still standing there bc you don’t trust them enough to leave in 10 mins if you aren’t there supervising) and stares at you for a second before going

“can we borrow your phone to call our manager?”

“what happened to your phones?”

“they’re out of battery”

“both of them???”

“yup”

obviously this is super suspicious and you can see sewoon looking at jaehwan in mild confusion as he pockets his own phone which probably still has charge

but with how downright exhausted you are, you just give up and pass him your phone if it means they’ll get the heck out of there asap

and so he calls their manager, and they leave soon after

you finish up with everything and head home

once your head hits your pillow you pass tf out 

and you are dead to the world for a solid 13 hours, which is exactly how you miss 3 texts from an unknown number

1- hey! this is jaehwan from yesterday if you remember? the guy who kept pissing you off lmao

2 - i think your name is y/n bc that’s what i saw written on your nametag

3 - so anyway i just wanted to know if you want to go out for coffee with me today?

once you read all three messages you’re like what the actual hecK?? you are so confused bc firstly, what?

secondly, WHAT????

how does he even have your number?? and he actually wants a date with you after yesterday???? is this a prank

and what was he so straightforward and confident for lmao especially after making your job so difficult yesterday

wtf how do you even have my number?

the reply is almost instantaneous

we used your phone to call our manager rmb

so coffee? or do you prefer tea

oh for god’s sake, what in the world is going on

his replies just piss you off even more so you just ignore him and carry on with your day

but boy, he’s persistent

he messages you again the next day

ok so seems like you didn’t want coffee yesterday so how about lunch today?

once again you ignore it bc wtf 

hey you know i can see you reading my messages

WTF are u stalking me???? where are u?? i’ll report u i swear

WHAT no i meant like the,, read,, sign, as in i know u read the msg bc of the read sign omg

oh lol. anyways no i don’t want lunch sry

your cold and outright rejection isn’t enough to stop him

tbh his messages aren’t creepy stuff that border on harassment

it’s just him always requesting for you to consider him and you repeatedly going ‘not now’ lmao

and this goes on for about a week

until it’s a saturday night and you’re having a lone night in looking for things to watch

when one of jaehwan’s messages pop up on your phone screen 

and before even reading it you find yourself swiping right to delete it when suddenly out of nowhere you remember that jaehwan is an artist

and after 5 minutes of pure conflict you decide that it wouldn’t be bad to search up and watch some of his stuff

so that’s exactly what you do

and you are totally surprised with what you see?

he has a lot of solo stuff separate from his songs with sewoon 

and in those solo songs it’s mostly just him and his guitar and wow,,,

you are reluctant to admit it but his voice is crazy good

it’s so soothing and powerful at the same time

the songs themselves are good too and you are even more surprised to find out that most of them were written fully by him

you’re mildly irritated by this the next morning but you actually fall asleep listening to his music bc that’s how nice it is

when you wake up, there’s yet another message from jaehwan

just in case you forgot, reminder to come to hongdae outside xx coffee shop later at 7pm if you want! i won’t contact you anymore if you come later and decide you still aren’t interested in me 

you’re like wtf what reminder before realising that you had deleted his previous message without reading it

the whole day you’re kinda confused about whether you should go or not because on one hand, you don’t even know this guy but on the other hand, you don’t have anything to lose

you still haven’t made a decision by the time it’s 7pm

and as you sit in your apartment, watching your clock’s hands tick past 7pm, then 7.10pm, you think back to the music you’d discovered yesterday night

and in a bout of spontaneity, you throw on a coat and a scarf and are out of your apartment and on the way to hongdae before you know it, hoping that it’s not too late

as you walk towards the cafe that jaehwan had mentioned, you hear a familiar voice echoing around the area

and as you turn the corner you are surprised to find jaehwan at the corner of the street, sitting on a stool with his guitar in his hands and a microphone in front of him, with a crowd of around a 100 people stood around him 

ah, you realise belatedly, he invited me to watch him busking

you hesitantly walk towards the back of the crowd, watching him as he finishes up the current song, not knowing whether he has spotted you yet

if you are being honest, his voice is even better in real life, and the fact that he is currently singing the song that you fell asleep to is enough to make your heart skip a beat or two

you stand there silently in the crowd, watching him sing the entire song

as the song fades out, he adjusts the microphone in front of him and scans the crowd

it would be an understatement to say that his eyes literally light up once they find yours

he then leans forward and into the mic, without ever breaking eye contact with you, and goes

“this next one is a cover of a song called crush, and it has all the things i want to say to you”

drop me an ask  or message me about what you think!!! thank u for reading <3

[idealisticrealism]

Blindspot 3x05 recap

Aka the one where all my sons are idiots and all my daughters are precious angels who deserve all the hugs.

Late again, because when am I not? Again, I blame the travelling.

So I’m kinda intrigued by this pair; the bleeding, accented woman and the young guy with an American accent in what seems to be a  super-dingy bathroom? What is going on here??

Patterson has been doing some fancy analysing of the adoption records and yeppp, Jane definitely had a kid. And ugh Patterson is so sweet and gentle about it and has done so much research so she could give Jane ALL the info and Jane is just Not Dealing. But hmmm Patterson tells her there’s no way to test if she’s had a child and lbr that’s not exactly true? A good ObGyn could generally tell just by looking at the cervix. Not a perfect measure, but it’s definitely an option. But anyhow Jane is too busy flipping out anyway, and ugh she mentions the Taylor Shaw thing and already having everything ripped away from her multiple times and man my heart just hurts for her rn. And Weller’s so at a loss for what to do or how to comfort her ugh my poor babies

Lol Reade and Zapata and their little Wizardville rivalry is super cute. And then she’s completely open with him and asks him directly about the State Department Guy thing and wow Reade just harshly shuts her down. I’m glad Patterson interrupts this little moment because it was definitely going nowhere good. But speaking of things that ARE good,  omg I love her pun about the ‘backbone’ of the case and Weller being all killjoy about it haha. That’s right, honey, just ignore him. Your humour is too good for him anyway. And so anyhow the tatt leads to a NYPD evidence log number, though Zapata notes that the code is different to what the NYPD uses now, and Reade gets super snarky at her for it. Geez son, learn some manners! Patterson backs Zapata up tho (yaaassss my girls), showing that the code is like 20 years old. Jeller go to check out the warehouse it points to while Zapata is given paperwork by Reade (wow, petty), though tbh Zapata ends up with the better deal since Jeller have to fight some bad guys and literally put out a fire. Ugh the way Jane yells for him as she tries to fight the fire alone-- it’s only when its the two of them together that they manage to extinguish it. Symbolism, much? Patterson calls right at that moment to warn them to get out, and it’s a little late, but well, it’s the thought that counts haha. Other warehouses have been burned, which means someone is trying super hard to destroy evidence but doesn’t know where it is. Jane, because she’s amazing, finds the box they nee-- and in it is a whole bunch of untested rape kits going back 20 years. I love the conversation the guys have about the low priority assigned to sexual assault testing-- it’s some good commentary from the writers about the state of the real world. 

Meanwhile, Stuart’s phone has been found in the river, and both Patterson and Zapata are very suspicious of the way Reade basically tells her to leave it alone. Looking super suss rn, bro, and I do not like it at allll.

However, I really DO like listening to Jane speak in other languages. So damn cool. And as someone who is currently staying in a foreign country and communicating solely in the local tongue, I have a renewed respect for her fluency lol.  Their Russian suspect conveniently elects to speak English though haha. How handy. He’s a bit of a tough guy but through a sneaky move on Jeller’s part, he gives them the info they need-- how he got paid, which gives them a lead on the people hiring him. Patterson also drops another pun, which is three so far this ep and I’m so proud. She also figures out that the the victim was likely linked to Kazarus, which as far as I’m aware is a fake place though tbh my geography is not super great. But anyhow, that narrows their search to two sexual assault survivors. 

And then aww Patterson pulls Weller aside and tries to support him about the whole surprise-kid thing, and ugh she’s just so sweet and wants to help both him and Jane as best she can. But he’s upset bc he knows he can’t fix this; no one can. I guess it all just takes time, right? Meanwhile Jane’s in the locker room, getting a call from Roman, and dude he really knew the whole time??  And ugh if she was sixteen when she had the baby (to her high school sweetheart aww) then he was probably about 14 at the time, just a kid himself who had suddenly become an uncle, and man I’m so sad for them both?? But lol she gets to the bullpen and covers the phone while practically yelling for them to trace the call. Not super subtle, Jane. And he tells her she initially fought Shepherd on giving the baby away and then she just ran away? I’m confused.  I guess we now understand a bit more about why Remi joined the army though I guess. Not sure how she ever went back to working for Shepherd, though, but maybe she saw the memory wipe as a way out? And Beardy was meant to fill her in on everything including the kid.  Idk. Jane’s now having a small breakdown in the locker room and decides she has to go see Shepherd, but Weller’s right when he says that Shepherd would just mess with her head. Don’t give her the satisfaction, Jane! And oh look, a mention of Bethany, haven’t had one of those in a while. And tbh that’s the way I like it, show, so keep ignoring her existence please haha.

In the lab, Patterson admits defeat about Stuart’s phone-- it’s as dead as he is. (Too soon??) But Zapata didn’t spend all that time at the CIA without gaining a few skills in the realms of deception and deviousness, and so they hatch a plan to bluff and lure out the possible mole. And then a lab tech in a headscarf calls them to see something, and the panning shot of the lab also shows another tech in a turban. Firstly, I approve of some diversity happening here, and secondly, I hope that this casting choice was deliberate so there would be people that looked at those characters and went “the traitor has to be one of them” so that when it’s shown that the traitor is someone else, the people watching have to examine just why it was that they thought either of these two background characters were guilty. (Hint: it’s racism!). Anyhow, the rape kit in question has been tested, and it turns out the rapist is the king of Kazarus. Or, the former king, since he died and his brother has assumed the throne. The only spanner in the works being that the rape resulted in a child, who, as per the Kazarussian monarchy, is the rightful heir to the throne. Which naturally means that Scar’s gotta have him taken out. Now we know who we saw at the start of the ep-- the kid and his mother, who was clearly attacked by the assassins but escaped. Now it’s a race for the team to find them before the Kazarussians do. 

And then who appears but Weitz, who is now a congressman, and conveniently an expert on Kazarus. I love that everyone looks at Hirst and she’s all “Don’t look at me, Darlins” and how is someone using ‘darling’ in plural like that so damn endearing??? The accent is what truly makes it though, obviously. But nope, it was Reade who called him, which is just another in the list of things Reade has done lately that we do not like. Weitz manages to make everyone hate him even more within mere seconds of showing up, and tbh I love to hate him. His antagonism towards Zapata is hilarious.  I like that even Hirst gives him some shit lol. Atta girl. Anyhow Weitz informs them that the ex-king’s brother Cyrus is a Bad Dude and there’s a bunch of american soldiers in Kazarus that are now at risk, and yep the stakes have just been raised

Reade gets called into the principal’s office to discuss his little spat with Zapata. How exactly does Hirst know about that, though? Though I guess if she’s paid attention to any of their interactions today then she probably could have figured it out. I’m offended that he calls Zapata a busybody?? But then he does at least say that she’s nothing to worry about and that she’s a friend. What do you two have to hide though??? Meanwhile in the lab, Patterson has found the kid by examining the curtains in a video that the kid sent to his gf. That’s my lil genius. Of course it’s super convenient that this type of curtain is only made for a specific motel chain, but whatevs, I’ll let it slide as I do with many things in this show haha. I love Zapata teasing Weitz though, suggesting that it was all too smart for him and went over his head haha

Jane’s clearly taking this case pretty personally-- and tbh it does seem veeeeeeeery convenient that there’s a case that resonates so closely with her current situation, until you remember that this time around, all the tattoos are specifically designed by Roman to be revealed in a certain order, so it makes total sense that the case matches stuff going on in their personal lives. More sense than when it happened in the last two seasons, so touche, writers. You win this round. Anyway they get to the hotel, and the kid immediately pulls a gun on them. His mom’s not looking too good though, kinda bleeding out a little on the bed, and ugh Jane does her frightened-animal whisperer thing and convinces the kid to let her help his mom. Naturally he chooses to trust her bc lbr wouldn’t you?? They get his mom to the hospital where she’s super well guarded, and he tells them about only learning at 18 about his mother’s attack. And he only learned yesterday about the whole king thing, and tells them he’ll never go to Kazarus. You just know that Jane is thinking about her baby and how the kid probably wouldn’t want to know her as they must think she abandoned them, and ugh it hurts. Why must you do this, show?

Back in the lab Patterson and Zapata have set their trap, and are waiting to see who falls into it-- only they don’t like the answer. According to her computer, Reade logged into the system to delete the files. Patterson is grim; she doesn’t like it, but she’s ready to believe it. When Zapata tries to insist that Reade wouldn’t do it, that he’s family, Patterson just reminds her: Borden was family too. And ugggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I do not like this at all. I am so done with leaks and moles and traitors and all of it ugh.  I do appreciate Weitz for making me smile here; Zapata is back at her desk and he throws a paper airplane at her, then feigns confusion, looking around for who could have done it. Tbh I actually do ship these two a little bit. All the bickering just does it for me lol. She gives him shit about probably not going to be re-elected, but he says he’s doing great in the polls. She says polls have been wrong before-- and is that some political commentary I hear? Man who was the writer of this ep because they are not pulling punches today. Reade comes over and tries to mend bridges, which tbh tastes a little sour after he was such an asshole this morning... give him nothing, Zapata!

Looks like Yasmine is gonna live, which is nice. She and Jane bond a little over protecting kids etc while Weller and the kid go to get something from the vending machine--- and ugh when they’re coming back Wller notices their guard from the door is gone and pushes the kid behind him. I love protective Weller. I also love Weller throwing an injured woman over his shoulder and carrying her to safety. Damn. He also proved pretty smart-- when they realised that the baddies were on their FBI comms, he bluffed and reported that they were headed for the roof while they escaped out the front door instead. Nice. Though why do I feel like that escape was too easy?

Patterson has figured out that it’s not Reade that’s tampering with their evidence, but someone else using his login. She confesses to Zapata about the backdoor that Wizardville gives her into people’s phones, and says she’s never used it before, which isn’t true though right?? Didn’t she use it on that Lowie guy’s lawyer a few eps ago? Anyway Zapata doesn’t care about the illegal biz, she just wants to hear her best(?) friend’s name cleared.  Turns out he wasn’t even in the building when someone used an FBI computer to access their files, so that’s at least looking good for him, even if it is bad for them as a whole

Weller reports in, and the team tracks their phones and immediately sends backup-- but too late, considering that the baddies have laid out a trap for them. Was this why it was so easy for them to get away?? Jeller manage to take out several bad dudes on their own, but not before one of them manages to molotov-cocktail their car, which blows up moments later. Dude that’s one potent cocktail… but ugh they all make it to safety, with Weller again literally carrying Yasmine, and ugh the mother and son hug and the husband and wife hug and it’s just a very poignant moment okay?? Also there’s just something really beautiful about the way Jane hugs, I can’t even really describe it. Anyhow they all make it back to the NYO, where the rest of the team (plus Weitz, in his own way) are super glad to see them alive. After a minute Zapata and Patterson sneak off, because Patterson needs to tell her the news-- the person using Reade’s login was Hirst. She’s sure because of biometric software that she runs on all of their computers, and again, man I’m super glad that these powers are in the hands of someone trustworthy like Patterson haha. But ugh this means my honey-accented cool aunt is a baddie?? She even knew that Lowie guy from a few eps ago. Well, bummer. Still holding out for the possibility that there’s more to it, but things aren’t looking great...

Oh dear, King Cyrus was murdered, and the Kazarussians are demanding their heir. Which really sucks for the kid, and Jane and Weller try to protect him, but he’s determined to go and to make things better for his fellow Kazarussians. And lbr, to have to go become king is not the worst thing??  

Wow Patterson and Zapata actually went to Reade to warn him about Hirst. I don’t know why that surprises me, but it does. I would have done some more surveillance or something first? But anyway he is really not taking it well, and kinda attacks both of them a bit over it. And wait he’s known Hirst since he was in Quantico??? That’s news to me.  And not good news, either. Please don’t be dirty, Reade. Please…

Jeller are recovering at home after a pretty damn rough day. Jane has changed her mind about finding her daughter-- she wants her just to have a happy, stable life, and that willl be far easier if she never knows Jane exists. And he just hugs her bc what can you do to make that pain better? Nothing, that’s what. She’s going to mourn her connection with her daughter for the rest of her life and ugh it just really sucks

Oh no a time jump, nothing good ever follows a time jump. And oh shit it’s Berlin. Weller’s having no luck with a rude hotel employee, which I find super unbelievable because a) he’s front desk staff at a fancy hotel, b) the person asking him for help is a man clearly traumatised about his missing wife, and c) he’s German. Him being rude makes no sense. But it does give this girl a cool opening to come help Weller out, and man I am jealous of her German speaking skills. Like I said earlier, it’s not easy!! But wait, there’s more. The girl is not only American, but she’s looking for Jane. Her mother, Jane. And oh Weller, you stupid, stupid boy. You foolish, well-meaning idiot. I am sure that your reasons for not telling Jane about this are all purely to protect her (although I also suspect you’re trying to protect yourself from her leaving you again) but dude. DUDE. This is not the kind of secret you should ever keep, and honestly if Jane leaves your ass when she finds out the truth I’m gonna be on her side of the split. Ugh, my stupid son when will you ever LEARN

[plentifulwritings]

heartfelt words

“ oh look hi it's emily again id like another seungkwan one But With Even More Fluff ; thank u so Much i love u”

a/n: hope this is fluffy enough!!

It wasn't too late when Seungkwan texted Emily, and the early messages already seemed slightly off to her. He somehow had a set routine when it came to contacting her--especially in the midst of heavy scheduling--and never really broke it. But, that set schedule helped both of them; he knew when to expect her calls or messages as she knew when to expect his. It never upset Emily when he was out of this routine, but she never really knew what to expect when he did. Was something wrong? Was something bothering him? 

[seungkwan!!] 

 hey, i know i'm messaging you out of the normal time but practice has been so tough today ): the choreo is pretty difficult and i'm having a hard time keeping up and my body hurts and all i really want are cuddles and kisses and to see my baby )): i miss you

After reading the message, she frowned, watching as the chat bubbled popped up again, signaling that he was still typing. He never really complained bluntly about practice, always finding some way to brush it off and make a joke about it; but Emily could easily see why Seungkwan was complaining. Soonyoung had been continuously tough on the comeback, meaning consistent long practices for the group and individually. Jihoon had them in his small studio quite often, listening to their snippets of the song and tweaking things here and there. The load-on was heavy for everyone, obviously taking a toll on them, but you knew this was a part of being an idol. Hard work that would all be worth it in time.

Emily’s phone dinged, signaling another text from him.

[seungkwan!!]

and now i’m hiding in the bathroom after i told hyung that i had to pee even though i really didn’t have to... but i do this for you, my love!! even if i’m tired i’ll keep on because i want to impress you and my carats... and with this time i’m taking texting you i can take a break that i truly deserve.

Emily smiled at his message and quickly messaged him back.

[emily] 

baby )): i’m sorry there’s nothing else i can do over here... you know i would go over there as quickly as i could a take you from there before anyone would notice... but you know all this hard work will pay off!! even if you won’t tell me about the song or choreo (i’m still upset about that .) i know it’ll be amazing bc it’s coming from you guys!!

She got back a response almost immediately.

[seungkwan!!]

you know i can’t do that!!!! when i can say something love i promise you’ll be the first one i tell

[emily]

you better. i’m keeping your word on that boo seungkwan. and screenshots.

[seungkwan!!]

aaaaah you’re just too cute... how am i so lucky to have you

[emily]

stopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopit

[seungkwan!!]

never!! making you smile and blush is my favorite thing to do

She blushed again at his message, biting on her lower lip. He always seemed to know what to say (most of the time), and even if he didn’t, he always tried to smoothly ease his way out of the conversation. Key word being ‘tried’. There were many times Emily would ask Seungkwan to do simple things when he stayed over at her apartment, like put his dishes in the washer or pick up a few things for her. When she noticed he didn’t do as she asked, he completely bluffed and tried to make his way out of the situation by distracting her with a compliment, or hug, or kiss. It never worked, but he continued to try.

[seungkwan!!]

i gotta go i think they’ve noticed i’ve been gone too long i hear their voices from down the hall... but i’ll try to be at your apartment early so we can watch that movie!! don’t worry, i’m eating dinner here, okay??? i love you~~ see you soon 

She sent him a message telling him she understood, also--again--telling him to knock and not try and surprise her by using her extra key (which he had done before, and she almost knocked him out with a pan). She was glad he was heading over, as it had been a few days since they’d last seen one-another. He wanted to visit her earlier, but scheduling was hectic and his manager told him there was no time. Seungkwan was very upset and expressed his annoyance to her, and she comforted him, assuring him they’d see each other soon enough.

Emily then settled herself in the bundle of blankets on her bed, lying on her side as she began to look through her phone to take up time.

She had somehow managed to doze off when there was a few knocks at her door. They startled her awake, and she groggily made her way to the front and unlocked the door. There stood Seungkwan, sweaty from practice, with a small bag in his hands. She gave him a smile and stepped to the side, allowing him into the apartment.

She closed and locked the door before turning back to Seungkwan, who was glancing around the room. Emily furrowed her eyebrows. “Looking for something?” she asked him, trying to follow his line of sight.

“Hm? Oh, nothing,” he said absently, placing his bag by his feet. He widely opened his arms, straight faced. “Hug me.”

She scrunched her nose. With how sweaty and smelly he was? He must’ve been kidding. She shook her head and crossed her arms. “Definitely not. You stink.”

He dramatically lowered his arms to the side, his mouth tightening. He playfully looked to the side and made a “hmph” noise, and shut his eyes and began to pout. “How rude of you. I’ll let you know that I have been practicing for many hours now, and all this sweat and tears was fully for a good cause.”

“Tears? Boo Seungkwan crying? Should I show you when you guys won and you--”

His eyes opened and he looked over to Emily, who was holding back a smile. “Emily... we’ve talked about this...”

“I’m just joking, Seungkwan. But seriously, shower, you smell.”

“And then you’ll give me hugs?”

“All the hugs you want. As long as you’re clean.”

He smiled at her (but then took her into his arms and kissed her all over her face, making her laugh).

He finally did shower, obnoxiously singing her favorite songs, the door ajar to make sure she heard every note. She could only shake her head and continue scrolling through posts on her phone, as nothing she could say would stop him. He knew she loved his voice, his singing especially, and regularly sang for her in attempts to make her day better than it had been.

When he finally made his way to her bedroom he had changed, now clad in a a random pair of shorts and a loose tee. His hair was damp and wavy, and she immediately cooed over how cute he looked, to which he looked at her with fake shock and asked “so i was ugly before”. It was all for fun, and the smile on her face made all of it worth it.

She was lying on her back, still on her phone, snuggled up under her blankets. Seungkwan made his way under them as well, resting his head on her chest, his arm over her torso, their legs intertwined. Although he never admitted it to the other guys, he always liked being held by her; he felt safe, warm... it was a place he hated to leave. She rubbed his back, lowering her phone to allow him to see what she was doing.

After a while Emily looked down to see that was dozing off, eyes half lidded, about to close shut. She gave his head a light kiss, stretching over to her nightstand to turn off the lamp she had on (mostly for herself). She did, and she felt his grip on her tighten.

“Emily...”

“Hm?”

“I love you a-lot.”

She smiled. “And I love you a-lot.”

“Thank you for staying with me.”

“Of course I am. Why would I leave?”

“I don’t know. I just want you to know that I’m grateful that you’re here with me. It’s really hard to be in a relationship when I’m and idol and our schedules don’t match up... and that we can’t be public. But I know that the Carats would love us.... who wouldn’t...”

Seungkwan was talking as he was falling asleep, and some of his words began to slur together, but she still managed to decipher what he said. She giggled at he had said, gently playing with his dyed blonde hair.

“That’s okay, Seungkwan. We try our best and that’s what matters. I think we’re doing well for the circumstances.”

“...I think we are too... I love you, Emily...”

“I love you too.”

“Hearing you say that makes me so happy...”

“It makes me happy, too,” she whispered.

“Are you happy?”

“I am.”

“Good... I’ll make sure you always are...”

And with that, Seungkwan finally fell asleep. Though he was half asleep, Emily knew he meant every single thing he said... and that made her so happy. 

So, so very happy.

[suqarjae]

barista!mark || au

mark tuan || barista au

jaebum || jackson || jinyoung || youngjae || bambam || yugyeom

black button up with sleeves rolled up to his elbows

black apron around his waist and tight fit black slacks, black dress shoes

also black horn rimmed glasses

just because

is really shy but still does amazing customer service

if a customer compliments him on his service then he’ll get all blushy and shy

he’s really professional when bringing customers their orders??

the way he speaks

and the way he puts it down

there’s nothing to it

like those are simple things

but he does it so well??

?????

constantly asking customers if there’s anything else he can get them

happy customers are his priority

loves making customers their orders and bringing it to them personally

if the customers smile

so does he

ends up flirting with customers accidentally

sometimes he does it on purpose

others its completely unintentional

he unconsciously bites his lip a lot out of habit

also licks his lips a lot

he learns regular customers’ orders fairly quick

throws in extras if he thinks its needed free of charge

sometimes customers are confused

others take it with gratitude

others get pissy and think he’s trying to charge them more

that happens more than he’d like to admit but he’s explained it to the manager enough times for jaebum to understand and just roll with it

the first time it happened jaebum was pissed but the more often it happened the more it just became an act so the customer would be happy 

they still left with a free muffin or bagel so idk why they complain??

mark’s not too sure either but oh well

regulars love to be served by mark

he takes time to actually get to know them rather than simply serving them and shoving them down the line like bigger cafes do

they work in a small cafe on the corner with a lot of foot traffic so people end up wandering in there a lot

mark always tries to make customers feel at home

or at ease at least

if people’re waiting too long and there’s no line up then he’ll start conversations with the customers

that’s how he met you

you were surprised when he first started talking to you

just threw you off p much bc you’re used to being just another human of society when you went to other cafes

you were shy at first

he was shy but not too shy

he always gets nervous when talking to random customers bc some might see it as something its not

and get offended for whatever reason

no one working there understood those customers and just kinda accepted it

you were nice to him

therefore he instantly liked you

he didn’t open up straight away simply bc that’s just how he is

but he noticed you coming back more often

he threw in a few extras like normal and you always made sure it was ok to take it and if he was sure

answer was always yes

he started to learn the little quirks of your orders

adds in things that aren’t meant to be there but work insanely well with it

the types of conversations he starts with you aren’t forced either

he genuinely wants to get to know you

asks about your job

your boss

your daily life

he found out about that one co worker that you despise

lets you rant about said co worker

you ask him questions too

pretty much the same questions he asks you

you see him smiling when he gets onto topics he’s passionate about

because he’s smiling that means you’re smiling

you don’t even realise you’re smiling until your order is called or he has to tend to customers before they get pissy and the line up gets too built up bc he’s been talking to you instead

your cheeks hurt before you leave bc he just makes you smile that much

you start to realise just how damn attractive he is before too long

he’s a bit more dense to realise his attraction you you tho

he has times where he misses you mid-shift but he doesn’t think too much of it and just shrugs it off

his co workers notice his mannerisms and stuff when you’re around compared to when you’re not

they can tell he’s got a thing for you like a month before he realises he just might have a crush on you

ends up going to jackson about it

jackson gives him a “no duh” expression

mark gets all blushy bc he took that long to realise it

jackson hypes him up enough to ask for your number the next time he talks to you

he does

gets very shy and flustered about it

when you give him your number he’s so smiley and fluffy

then he sends you out a text later on that night

he’s a nervous wreck bc what if you gave him a completely random number

so many insecurities pop up

poor baby

when you text back he’s over the moon

you two text for like 5 hours straight

“what do you mean its 3am”

“we should probably sleep”

“but i don’t wanna stop talking to you”

“mark you have work in 5 hours you need sleep”

“fine but only because you told me to...you need sleep too tho”

“yes i know i was gonna sleep but someone keeps texting”

“but you’re adorable when you’re tired and need coffee and i get the joy of seeing that when you come in this morning to get your coffee ;)“

“goodnight dweeb”

“isn’t it technically morning?”

“goOD NI G HT  MA RK”

“lmao goodnight sweetheart”

you couldn’t stop blushing

he called you sweetheart

and called you adorable

you blamed it on him being tired

the next morning he’s a blushy mess bc he realised what he said

you blush bc he’s blushing

he bravely calls you sweetheart again

you p much melt

you get flustered and he laughs softly

this happens enough for it to become a thing

you both flirt with each other

half jokingly half serious

but you don’t know that the other is actually half serious

so you both think it’s just a joke to each other while trampling down your feelings for each other

you didn’t realise it had that much of an affect on you until you realised you were missing his flirty little comments when mid-shift at work

you would literally walk into the cafe sometimes just so you could have mark flirt with you

he loved when you came in

for coffee or not

the fact that he learnt that sometimes you come in just to see him made him feel so warm and he got butterflies from it

he gets so sweet around you too??

jackson teases him a lot about it

one day you seem to not be having a too good of a morning

you just seem out of it

there’s dark circles under your eyes and you aren’t as alert as usual

mark notices ofc

how wouldn’t he

right as you’re about to walk out the door he calls you back

jinyoung and jackson exchange knowing looks

you’re confused

he quickly runs around the counter to meet you at the door

he hesitates before speaking

jackson is lowkey watching him from behind the coffee grinder

jinyoung keeps slipping glances at the pair of you out of the corner of his eye while he serves customers

mark’s face is so red

he scratches the back of his neck and you’re about to ask him if everything’s ok

he takes a deep breath and asks you out

you’re already flustered and you’re finding this side of mark really adorable and cute

“i’d love to”

mark is ecstatic

he can’t stop smiling

he accidentally glances back at his co workers

jackson’s more excited than mark is

jinyoung just smiles back and nods in approval before continuing on with the order he was making

mark turns back to you

you’re about to say something

but

homeboy’s lips have found yours

you were stiff at first bc wait what’s happening

but then you melt into the kiss

his lips are so soft???

when you pull away for air you feel lightheaded

so does he

he literally can’t stop smiling

neither can you

you both get all shy and you’ve gotta run before you’re later than you already are for work

you keep thinking about that kiss all through the day

same for him

when you get home you call him and he picks up within two rings

“mark its 3am a g a i n”

“this matters why?”

“because it is a tuesday you have work tomorrow and i start early tomorrow, like i start at 7 and i have 3 hours to sleep if i fall asleep right at this very moment”

“the cafe doesn’t open until 8 though-”

“yes i know that’s why i’ll only be able to stop by on my lunch break”

“do you want me to personally deliver you a coffee tomorrow so you don’t get roasted by hoseok for falling asleep on the job??”

“what-no-yes-wha t--”

“yep i’ll see you at work at 8 princess no if’s or but’s”

“mark i love you i hope you know that”

“crystal clear sweetheart”

“good now goodnight”

“goodnight princess~”

he arrived at 8 on the dot with your favourite coffee order and a bagel

you loved this boy sm

{ caution : nsfw below }

there's some nights when he's on alone and then come closing you're still there to keep him happy

then sometimes he gets all quiet and thoughtful

"honey come here"

"but I'm happy here just watching you"

"please-"

"oh fine what is it-"

you walk around the back of the counter

he just smiles and hugs you

innocent enough right

nope

try again sweetie

he starts to kiss your neck

you hold out for a while

but

he knows that's your weakness

once he gets a moan out of you it's game over for you

he picks you up and sits you down on the counter he just finished cleaning

this is what long nights after stressful days in a cafe result in for mark apparently

he starts to massage your hips

and starts leaving very apparent hickies on your neck

boy must've been stressed today

you loved it so much but you were playing somewhat hard to get

he started moaning in your ear quite loudly when you started grinding on him

his moans alone could get you off

he loves your hips and thighs

so

much

escalates very quickly when you whimper and start to beg

it's not an often occurrence

the next day you can't look at where the manager's hands are resting on the counter without getting flustered

whoops

i mean-

haha-

w h a t-

mark has the same problem tho

can't help but get all blushy when he runs over what happened the previous night in his head

has to restrain himself from reimagining the full thing

he ends up imagining one of your moans by accident

boy is gone.exe

he's solid and he's so tense

honey yo man is in distress

asks to go home early to go see you

makes up some dumb excuse

jb knows exactly what his problem is and lets him squirm a bit before finally letting him go

mark just doesn't want to relieve himself

he wants you to do it for him

;)

[plehdis]

boyfriend!joshua

hong

joshua hong

where do I start off with this handsome boy

well for one, the whole ‘gentleman’ title given to him isn’t far off from how he is with his significant other

so let’s start off from where they meet

so she’s a new and upcoming photographer for a magazine

and her work is very well talked about and is always being praised for being the next photographer for the new generation of celebrities

so low and behold she’s the photographer for seventeen’s next magazine shoot

which is big thing for her friends rather than herself bc like

‘omg sEND ME THE PICTURES OF THE ONES THAT DON’T GET APPROVED’

and she’s like ‘ha ha ha’

obviously she doesn’t because cmon man the celebrities have rights y’know

she can’t just abuse that

anyways

she goes and gets set up in the location they’ll be taking pictures in

a brick-walled studio that was previously used industrialy

she really likes the rustic feel despite them having to use a white back drop for most of the single shots and the group ones

she doesn’t really have other people helping her, aside from her brother that comes to drop off the lightning and to pick them up after wards

she prefers working alone, not liking having people there to give their opinions bc like, she’s the photographer and she knows what she’s doing

so she take half an hour to test out the lighting, shift around a few things before the group finally walks through the door

and they’re all kind and greet her together and indivdually

in particular her eyes stop onto one of the members

his name was joshua if she wasn’t mistaken

he just seem so perfect in her eyes

coffee brown hair, alluring cat-like eyes and perfectly plump lips

wonder how they feel against her own

(y/n) sNAP OUT OF IT

this is actually the first time she’s ever felt this way about a client

and she’s been with some ❀◕ ‿ ◕❀ attractive people

anyways, she introduces herself and what she had in mind for the shoot

‘so I’d like to take the single shots before the group shots because the natural light from the window only stay with us for only so long. I’d like to next take the unit shots and group shots before the final large shot because I believe the artificial lighting will work best without the interference of the natural light’

yes she’s had this prepared for a while

the guys nod and pick among one another the line up

after half an hour it’s finally joshua’s turn

and he bows before starting because he’s so nice and actually pretty nervous

because it’s a pretty photographer he’s gotta look good right?

but in her eyes he’s perfect like ‘omg stop being so handsome’

she’s trying to be professional but he’s making it really hard

anyways after fifteen minutes she finally gets the shots she needs before thanking him

and there’s like a spilt moment when their eyes meet before he ducks away

‘so cute’

so the photo shoot goes along nicely, everyone being friendly and open to the suggestions she gave in order to make the shot a bit smoother and please their company boss

then finally group shoot comes around and she honestly can’t focus her camera lens

for some reason ends up going toward him despite him not being the lead center

so much so she calls for a five minute break as ‘she has another camera she think will suit him the shoot

she jogs over to her stuff and there he is just standing drinking a bottle of water

and the sight was breathtaking

it took her a moment to snap out of it

like today was not her day at allshe was always so calm and in charge during these times

but when a cute attractive male comes in the picture she’s done and she’s photographed cha eunwoo and ok taecyeon a few times before

‘can we get this finished? the boys have a music show in three hours’

(y/n) couldn’t help but almost glare harshly at the manager who wasn’t helping with the time restraint

she could finish any time but just because of him (and joshua being joshua) she’ll take her time

anyways

after all the pictures are taken and they take final shots, sadly her time with the group ends and they are bowing and thanking her for her time

she sighs as they all head to leave, while she goes to her bag to pack her things for her brother to pick up on his way from lunch

she notices a little ripped paper waiting on the top of her things

till she realizes it’s a phone number

‘so I know this might be sudden but I can’t pass this chance up. Call me?’

omg omg

she’s shocked but confused at the same time

who would’ve placed the number? is it even a number from the group members?

but she still takes the chance and saves the number into her phone

the contact name being ‘mystery man’

she wait a few hours since she took the time to skim through the photos she was to send to the editor of the magazine

because she knows she only should send limited photos but cannot help but be biased when looking over joshua’s shots

accidentally send 10 extra ones of him

let’s pretend that never happen

she eyes her phone before realizing the mystery man asked for her to call him

she doesn’t know what about but she likes the idea of not knowing who it is

because there’s really a chance of it being someone that was the behind the scene’s help

but it also could be one of the members

she is young for her profession

as told by critics before giving her a chance to show her talent

she contemplates for a minute or so before pressing on the contact and bringing the phone to her ear

‘hello?’

‘uh hello, this is (y/n) speaking’

‘ah, so you read my message’

‘well yeah, it’s pretty hard to miss it’

jOSHUA HONG YOU SLICK BOY

nvm

yOURE GREASY BUDDY

‘sorry I couldn’t do this face to face, I was pretty shy and wasn’t sure what to do. the guys kinda had to push me a bit’

‘it’s alright, what’s up?’

‘right, I was wondering if you wanted to go out on friday? If you’re not busy of course’

‘I’d love to joshua, there’s a restaurant near the photoshoot location, does that sound alright?’

‘sounds lovely, see you then’

not as lovely as your voice josh

after a few days she finally realizes she has a date

gosh dang schedules  (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

and she hasn’t gone on a date for a while so she doesn’t know what to wear

at least she took a shower (✿◠‿◠)

so she ends up being a tad late

bc she sees him already sitting down

‘shit  (╯◕_◕) (╯◕_◕) (╯◕_◕)╯‘

‘i’m so sorry I didn’t realize the time and-’

‘you look beautiful’

she stops herself after hearing his low chuckle and blushes because like

‘I’m trying to explain myself but you’re hear laughing at me’

‘but it’s okay because your laughter is cute and making me blush’

‘thanks?’

he gestures for her to take a seat in front of him

and she swears she catches him stare at her at least like 5 times after the waiter had taken their order

‘why are you-’

‘did you know you had really nice eyes?’

‘what wut’

‘yeah, they’re like a nice shade of (eyecolour)’

he’s cheesy and he knows it

literally she’s a blushing mess the whole time

like she could be mistaken for applying too much blush

he’s sweet and the conversation has a nice flow

and honestly it’s been a while since she’s been able to do this

and she really hopes there’s a part two

but without the surprise compliments

he ends up walking her home because like

why not

and of course he pulls the classic ‘you’re cold? take my jacket’

ah the cringe

‘I had a great time tonight’

‘me too, I’d love to do this again. If you’re up for it of course’

‘Sounds great’

And so the pair go meet with one another when their schedules allow them too

and it’s a nice time for the both of them, with the hand holding and chaste kisses

heck they’re practically a couple it’s just

no one asked anyone out yet

and she isn’t sure if she should ask about it but

it’s lowkey killing her inside to know

like it’s being childish but she wants to be able to refer to him as her ‘boyfriend’ and likewise with him

so one day when walking back to her home she asks

‘I was wondering about something’

‘go on’

‘are we together or-like are we a thing-’

*insert the surprise kiss* o shiet

‘so does that answer your question?’

‘uh yeah. could we do that again?’

-

so you’re probably wondering why the shy and gentle joshua is written as a straightforward guy

well I think if he really liked a person, and given the confidence boost and advice he might have been given from the guys

he’s would be like this

and it’s not like he won’t revert back to his usually self

but seeing us he may not know what to do or how to act

this front he puts up is just so he was able to speak to you bc

without it we could be looking at a year before actually said/did anything romantic

anyways back to the pair

so considering the hectic and unforgiving schedules, I feel like calling/video chatting and instant messaging may be the most used out of the relationship

besides cute cringy texting emoji are thing between the pair

and when they are able to see one another, they take advantage by planning out a nice but simple date

I think the main thing with him is hand holding and affectionate gestures whenever he can

like walking in public would consist of him holding her hand, pulling her close for quick pecks

and don’t get me started on the guys

they adore her

lowkey the members of their fanclub #jisooX(y/n)

guitar playing

she absolutely finds him playing the guitar the most fascinating thing in the world

she loves just watching him play anything

lowkey watches any video on the internet of him playing the guitar (pre-debut joshua anyone?)

and she really wants him to teach her but rather let him be the one to play guitar out of the couple

just in general and cute couple who have their own passions and always seem to find time in their schedules to love one another

author’s note: this is really sloppy but over due. thanks for requesting!

more boyfriend!seventeen

vernon