#also like there's no beta we're posting it raw

[rogue-storm]

This is my first time writing this pairing and also going to be my first fic on AO3 I'm nerrrvoussss. On top of that it's gonna be like 8 chapters long why do I do this to myself >:(((

[waldau-archived]

congrats on your new milestone!! i really enjoy reading your work♡ could i please request mingyu+'we're in completely different leagues'+'i'm not sober enough to talk about this'

just the two of us — kim mingyu | 7,009 words | hurt/comfort, fluff

i typed up a mammoth sized story (to me, at least) because i had so many thoughts. behold my longest fic ever written, patiently beta-read by the wonderful @tomodachiii. thank you for your help, tomo! ily <3 and thank you, anon, for your request!

gender neutral reader. warnings: reader has massive self-doubt, gets drunk halfway through the story.

“the next time i even think of going on a date, just take my phone and force me to go out on a walk. reconnect with nature. touch some grass, maybe,” you say, kicking your feet against mingyu’s cupboard from where you’re sat on his counter.

“did you have a bad date i wasn’t aware of? was it the guy with the blue streaks?” mingyu asks, pushing the bowl of cake batter towards you. he never shies away from reminding you of the repercussions of having raw dough — that too in excruciating detail. salmonella. e. coli. things he could skip but doesn’t, just because he likes annoying you.

he lets it slide this time. you’re allowed just one big spoon, and the next time you’ll see the rest of it is when it’s baked and topped off with handmade frosting. courtesy of kim mingyu. your best friend as well as part-time chef.

“…no.”

“don’t lie to me,” he says, tilting his head. “you wouldn’t have brought it up otherwise.”

“ugh. it’s just that…every time i even think of going out on a date, i have to reset my expectations. because men can’t clear the bar, no matter how low it is.”

you take a nibble from the spoon, and it tastes so damn good. it’s crazy how mingyu manages to find time to make new recipes and perfect them despite being a world-famous model that’s modelled for almost every major fashion house. you’ve lost count of how many magazines he’s been on.

it started out as a joke when you complained about all the magazines for his first ever gig having sold out. he’d taken it upon himself to get you a very special, signed copy that you have on display with the rest of the books in your glass bookcase. just the one, though. the rest of them are all piled up under your coffee table, much to mingyu’s chagrin. at least they’re in chronological order. and you’re making sure they’re not collecting dust.

that first edition is pretty much the only thing mingyu ever teases you about, tattered as it is, and on display for whoever comes to visit you. but you’d never get rid of it, not even for a new copy. it’s a milestone mingyu deserves to be celebrated for.

“does it taste good?” he asks with a small smile and a nervous smile. as if you’d have anything except praises to heap on him. this isn’t even the first time you wonder if he’d talk like this to you if you were together — endless smiles and warm cuddles under the covers and conversations about the most random things and stolen hoodies because you’re actually dating, and not just you being a guilty friend whose imagination runs a bit wild sometimes.

he does all of those with you. but he just doesn’t like you the way you like him.

how would he be, when he’s the kim mingyu? he has his fans falling to their feet if he so much as posts a picture of his hand. he’s the most charming human being you know. he’s tall not just because of his genes but also because of all the love he holds for everyone he knows.

you’re another moon that gets to orbit in the path of the admirable planet that he is.

sometimes you don’t even know how you managed to remain friends with him after university ended. the two of you started off as being part of the same friend group, having a few shared classes and some interests that kept the two of you together apart from your friends. by the time you graduated, both of you knew enough about each other to be able to hang out without needing your mutual friends. and it was hardly your fault that you felt drawn to how warm mingyu was, how easy it was to talk to him, and how happy you felt just by being around him.

so when it came to the topic of finding a place to live, the two of you decided it would be better for you to be roommates than find a complete stranger to share a living space with, and you went from friends to best friends soon after that.

mingyu’s always been your support system for whatever you’ve wanted to do, encouraging you to do what you wanted, regardless of how it would turn out or what others would think of it. in the same way, it wasn’t anything when you encouraged him to try out a modelling gig he’d signed up for and was unsure of how he’d fare.

long story short, the shoot was a pretty good success, and soon enough he got multiple gigs, managed to earn enough money to move into a bigger house, and even offered to pay your part of the rent because he wanted you to live with him — something that made you smack him.

you no longer live together now, mainly because of mingyu’s insistence on not wanting to disturb your sleep and your daily routine with all the schedules that keep him flying over the world. you did miss the breakfast he’d make for the two you every morning, and you’d managed to work out a compromise where mingyu became your personal chef on saturdays just so he’d have some time to spend with you.

it’s far from the worst arrangement in the world, and moments like these — him putting icing on your nose — make you realize how lucky you are to have him. you generally watch movies together, or he teaches you recipes, or he listens to you talk about your life, reciprocating with his own stories. things haven’t changed that much, even though you don’t live together anymore.

but part of you wishes things did change. that mingyu would, just once, look at you the way you look at him. it’s a wonder he hasn’t once caught you staring at him, because you’ve done that more times than you can count. but you can’t help it, because he just so happens to be your whole world.

but how long is this utopia going to last for? when is he going to realize you’re just plain old you, and that maybe he’s suited for more glamorous company? people who can probably pronounce the names of all his fashion houses correctly, people he models with, people that can hang off his arm and look like they belong there? not people who like wearing shorts and an old shirt as pyjamas and have bouts of self-doubt strong enough to crush entire mountains?

“…is it that good? you zoned out a bit there,” mingyu says, snapping his fingers in front of your eyes.

you blink out of your daydreams. it’s not even his fault that you’re so head over heels for him, although it kind of is. no one asked him to be so good looking and polite and so damn lovely that it became easy to imagine a future with him. just like lee youngji can imagine having a future with hong jisoo because he opened a carton of milk for her, you wonder how you haven’t yet succumbed to those thoughts when mingyu is such a big part of your life. you wonder at what point you knew you were fucked.

maybe it was when you and mingyu became friends, although you’ll never know for sure.

“no.”

“are you sure?”

“your ego doesn’t need to get any bigger,” you quip, finishing off the rest of your spoon.

he just laughs. “good to know. let’s just wait for an hour till it finishes baking, okay?” he hands you a baking sheet to line the pan with. you work in silence as he fiddles with the knobs on the oven, ladling out the batter into the pan and sticking it inside once the oven’s warmed up enough.

“want to do something while it bakes? watch a movie?”

“i was thinking we could go for a walk,” mingyu says, taking off his apron. he looks ridiculous, a hulking six foot two man wearing an apron that’s comically small for him, but he takes kitchen etiquette very safely. he hangs it up on the hook behind the door. “the weather’s good, and i don’t think i’ve been out for a walk in a while.”

“what about all those texts you sent me about missing bobpul? i wonder what your fans would’ve thought of that.”

“you’re not supposed to bring that up,” he whines, and you can’t help the giggle that makes its way to your face. he’s a grown man. and he’s the most adorable one you know. “that was a moment of weakness.”

“and you trusted me with it.”

“because i trust you.”

“i…fine,” you sigh, because what can you really say to that? “it’s cute, that’s all.”

mingyu wiggles his eyebrows. “you think i’m cute?”

“i swear—”

“kidding!” he walks you out of the kitchen, hands on your shoulders, and you love it as much as you wish he didn’t do it. “we’ll be back within the hour. the cake should be ready by then.”

he hands you one of his hoodies that’s lying on the sofa before you head out. you look up at him when he presses the fabric into your hands.

“it’s cold,” he explains, but it’s muffled by the messy way he’s pulling his hoodie over his head.

“and i can deal with the cold just fine.”

“no, you’re going to stick your cold toes on my legs when we sit down to eat, and i’m not going to bear that. even if you’re my best friend.”

and no matter what excuse you make to avoid wearing mingyu’s clothes, it’s never enough. he has to see you bundled up to make sure you’re not going to freeze in front of him, although that’s a tad bit dramatic. this is one of his newer hoodies, and you can tell by the way it doesn’t smell like him just yet. maybe it’s a good thing. maybe you can stop thinking about him like that. one step at a time.

“some best friend you are,” you mumble, wearing your shoes. you look up and mingyu’s frowning at you. not the usual way; there’s a tiny frown that would’ve been imperceptible if you didn’t know him the way you do, but you’re not going to ask what’s up. he tells you things if they’re really bothering him, so you’re going to let him let you know in his own time.

he wasn’t wrong. it really is windy. you’re glad he made you wear the hoodie. you pull the sweater paws over your palms, loving the way your palms instantly become warm. mingyu flips the hood over your head and you’re about to thank him for it before he draws the strings together and ends up blacking out your vision. he finds it funny for about two seconds till you stumble blindly and end up jostling him in the stomach.

he's still wincing when you undo the strings, and you can’t help but laugh. “sorry, gyu.”

“are you, though?”

“…no.”

“thought so.”

“was it my fault?”

“no,” he says, and smiles, and you feel your heart flutter again. “not your fault.” it’s so pretty. even his smile’s so pretty. you love his canines, his little fangs that he feels weird about sometimes. if it were up to you, you’d do anything to make him love them just as much as you did, even if that something were kissing.

whoa. not again. not when he’s with you.

“so, about failed dates,” he says, looking at you. “are you actually looking for something, or do you just…go on them to pass your time?”

mingyu does this thing where he can read you to filth without even trying. it’s like he knows what’s running in your mind, or at least has the vaguest idea of it, and he says things that are basically truths you don’t want to admit to yourself out of fear of not knowing what to do about them.

“why does it matter?” you ask, a bit defensive.

he frowns. again, that little frown. you wish you could remove it. “because there’s so many other things you could be doing to spend time instead of creeping yourself out every time you go on a date. and you don’t need to keep getting yourself hurt like that if it isn’t leading to anything.”

“are you dating someone?”

mingyu pffts. “what, i can’t have advice for you without being in a relationship?”

“no,” you say immediately, backtracking. of course he can. “sorry. i know you didn’t mean anything by it, but…”

“but?”

“i just wish i—”

you’re cut off by the sudden bark of a dog. you look around to find the source of the sound only to see a dog running around in circles with its leash in its mouth. it looks adorable.

“hey, buddy,” you say, crouching down in front of it. it looks up at you and barks. a happy little yip! before it continues running along in circles.

“are you lost?” mingyu asks softly, crouching down next to you. he reaches out a hand to pet its head, and the puppy leans into his touch completely. it looks familiar for some reason.

“do you have any idea whose dog this is?” mingyu asks. you shake your head. maybe you’ve seen a dog like this, not the dog itself, but you’re really not sure. he’s in the process of searching the dog’s collar, but someone yelling in the distance makes him pause. he gets up and tugs the dog by its collar. it has the name tag jamie inscribed on it.

the person yelling out for jamie is none other than one of your neighbours. you know her well. as well as you can for someone you don’t interact much with. not if you can help it.

she’s the kind of neighbour that always pokes her nose into matters that don’t bother her, the neighbour that outright shows she’s not interested in something if it doesn’t get her anything. the two times you tried to initiate a conversation with her as you waited for the elevator to reach your floor are a stark reminder of the fact that she’s not the kind of person you’d ever be friends with. you don’t know what you’ve done to rub her the wrong way, but she doesn’t look like she’ll even give you a chance.

you watch as mingyu hands over the dog to her, and once she’s done making sure jamie’s okay, she looks him up and down.

you don’t blame her. you’d do the same, a bit more subtly, but it does sting to see the way she’s probably the kind of person he should be hanging out with.

“thanks for finding jamie,” she says, all smiles. she really doesn’t need to be smiling that much.

“no worries,” mingyu says with a smile of his own. “and it wasn’t me who found jamie, by the way. it was them.” he points to you with a jerk of his thumb. you smile at her, but feel icy inside when she looks you up ad down.

“oh. are they your…” she trails off with a smile on her face that screams no fucking way. you suddenly wish you could just run back to your apartment and leave the two of them down here.

“partner? you think so?”

“just…you two look like opposites, that’s all. sometimes opposites don’t attract, but you never know. life’s funny sometimes.” she simpers a little, and your hands ball up into fists by your side.

what you don’t expect is for mingyu to throw his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into himself. “yes, actually,” he says, leaning into you in a way that most definitely exaggerates your height difference. “you could call them my better half. and don’t they look good in this hoodie? it’s mine, by the way,” he says, and you can recognize the smile on his face — it’s a fake one, the corporate one he adopts when he’s in a situation he doesn’t like.

his words keep buzzing in your mind as you walk past your neighbour and back upstairs to your apartment. he’d said you were a couple so easily, even though you were not. better half? really? the way he’d leaned into you so easily, the fact that he told her it was his hoodie. it’s…weird. and too much for you.

you don’t speak much as you help mingyu remove the cake from the oven, getting it ready for frosting. he manages to get an indignant sound when he manages to get some on your cheek this time, but the rest of the evening is spent thinking about the interaction you had.

is it really so unbelievable for people to imagine the two of you together?

“hey,” he says, bumping your side with his. except he miscalculates his strength (or does it on purpose) and ends up making you stumble a few steps away from him. you don’t even have it in you to be mad when you see the giggle on his face. “you good?”

“yes. sorry,” you say, opening the refrigerator to take out the food mingyu had made last night. he cooks enough to feed a family of four even though you’re the only one that lives at your place, so it’s useful for when you don’t feel like cooking.

“who was she?” mingyu asks, setting down the plates on the table. “a friend?”

you shudder at the thought of her being your friend. “a neighbour. she lives in the flat down mine. she’s not really the kind of person i’d be friends with, but jamie’s cute. i keep seeing him around sometimes.”

“hmm.” you get the smell of reheated noodles as mingyu works at the stove. “she was…weird.”

“that’s an understatement.”

“is she always like that?”

“rude?”

“yeah. that’s not something you’d say to a couple you see, even if you don’t like them.”

“she certainly doesn’t seem to care,” you say, a bit more forceful than necessary, setting down two glasses as well.

“well, i think we’d make a cute couple,” mingyu says, a little smile on his face as he reaches out to ruffle your hair.

you swear your heart dies a little right then and there. you stare at him unblinkingly. “do you ever hear the stuff that comes out of your mouth?” you ask, regaining your bearings and filling the glasses with water.

“sorry,” mingyu says, sheepishly. “i just don’t like the idea of anyone talking like that. especially with you. especially when you’ve done nothing to deserve it.”

your heart warms at that. “thank you, gyu,” you say, reaching out to squeeze his arm. bad idea. you’d forgotten how much he’s been working out recently, and how big he is. “i’m glad i could one-up her this time.”

“just call me the next time you want to do it again.”

“yeah, sure.”

the rest of the night is spent watching this show that’s been on your watchlist for a while, and you don’t mind if mingyu conks out in the middle of it.

sure enough, you hear his soft snores after you finish your dessert, and you turn to see this big man that’s also your best friend craning his neck on the sofa as he tries to keep himself in the blanket that’s certainly not big enough for the two of you.

sometimes you wonder if he’d cuddle with you to save space and keep himself warm, and this also happens to be one of those times. You get up and reposition him as gently as you can, so that his back doesn’t hurt in the morning. His nose twitches when you rest a hand on his hair, wishing him a silent goodnight.

It's not the first time you wish you could kiss him, dangerous as that thought is.

you can’t stop thinking about the interaction you had a few days ago. sure, your neighbour isn’t someone whose behaviour you’d count on to matter, but was she right when she said she can’t see two people like you together? people as opposite to each other as you and mingyu?

sure, you’re not the usual kind of crowd he hangs out with, but is it so bad to imagine something between the two of you? was that just the sign to stop thinking about mingyu, get over him and resign yourself to a life without love?

as much as you complain about going on dates, there’s something that’s your fault too — you look for mingyu everywhere. none of the men you’ve gone on dates with are mingyu, and that’s the crux of the problem. none of them smile the way he does, none of them give you their jacket when you’re feeling cold, and it’s unfair for you to expect them to understand everything about you.

you can’t have mingyu, and you’re going to have to learn to accept that.

Which is why you’re at this party with your friend seungkwan. it’s not your usual scene — you’d much rather be curled up in bed with a book and some takeout, or cleaning your bookshelf while listening to music on the television — but you’re not complaining. seungkwan was right. you need to let go once in a while, just enjoy yourself before you inevitably spend weeks together keeping to yourself, immersed in your work.

“dance with me!” seungkwan yells out to you over the din of the crowd.

“i can’t dance! not like you!”

“that hardly matters! let’s have some fun, come on!”

seungkwan is nothing if not persistent. finishing off the last of the drink, you let him lead you out onto the dance floor. he rests his hands on your shoulders as he sways you to the music. it’s fast paced and something you’d be caught doing in the privacy of your own house, your own little concert, and for once you don’t care about the fact that people can see you. you’re lost in your own little world with seungkwan, and more importantly, you’re happy. the stress of whatever the fuck happened last week between you and mingyu, with him calling himself your boyfriend without knowing how down bad you are for him, is pushed to the back of your mind as the beat changes. seungkwan starts clapping to the rhythm, making you realize you’re dancing by yourself.

you’re not half bad at this. a little under confident, sure, but not bad. you could try making this a monthly thing and having fun with it.

eventually you end up too exhausted to dance to another song, and seungkwan guides you to a seat, your shoes in his hand as he asks you to catch your breath and wait for a while more till he finishes dancing with some other people.

you’ve ordered a basic drink for yourself when someone slides in next to you. you don’t pay them much attention, focusing on relaxing a bit and finishing your drink, but you have to turn around and look at them when you can actually feel their eyes piercing into your side and— boy, is he a sight for sore eyes.

he looks boyishly handsome, completely in place in this club as he watches you with his chin resting in his hand, eyes glinting in the light of the fixture above the two of you. he’s pretty, and just as handsome, and his eyes are the loveliest shade of brown you’ve ever seen.

“saw you dancing out there,” he says, his words a bit of a drawl, and accented. “you were pretty good.”

“you don’t need to lie if you’re trying to flirt,” you jest, finishing your drink.

“i’m not in the habit of lying,” he says, smiling at you. “you looked like you were having fun.”

“i…was, actually,” you say. he’s still smiling, looking at you like he’s searching for something in your eyes. you feel warm. gosh.

“can i get you another drink?”

“no, thank you, actually. i need my head to remain intact if i want to get home in one piece.”

“suit yourself,” he nods, and asks the bartender for the same drink you had. the bar is in hell, but you’re impressed he backed off immediately. you watch as he makes quick work of his drink.

“so, you come here often?” he asks, wiping the back of his mouth.

“not really. my friend dragged me out tonight because he felt i needed a break from my life.”

“just a friend?” he asks, eyes following your line of vision to see seungkwan still dancing with some strangers, looking like he’s having fun.

“why, you interested?”

“depends on who you’re talking about.”

“him?”

“cute, but no.”

“me.”

“maybe.”

you trace the ring of condensation your drink’s left on the table. “but i’m not looking for anything, honestly. i’ve sworn off dating for a while.”

“that’s fine. we could just…talk.”

you look up at the man. you don’t know if this is his way of trying to get you to go home with him, but it’s the most genuine someone’s been. “you never told me your name, by the way.”

“me? vernon. nice to meet you.”

you give him your name in return, and like the way it rolls off his tongue.

“so…can i ask why you’ve sworn off dating?”

seungkwan’s still going to take a while, going by the previous times you’ve been here, and vernon definitely seems interested in talking to you.

“you ever…had a crush on your best friend?”

vernon winces — an actual wince, like he’s seen something terrible, and it makes you laugh. “yeah…once. it sucks.”

“exactly.”

“you’re trying to get over them?”

“trying being the keyword, yes.”

“then how are you trying to get over them if you’re not into dating?”

you sigh. vernon’s a perceptive one. “trying to think of other people even if i don’t necessarily go home with them. just anything to get my mind off him.”

“anything? how bored would you be if i started talking about why i think star wars is excessive but also misunderstood?”

you don’t find vernon boring, in fact. you find yourself drawn to him speaking, the way his eyes light up and his hands get a life of their own as he lists out every single point in aid of his stance, and encourages you to contribute to the conversation. it feels like he’s an old friend, and not someone you met hardly an hour ago. it’s fun.

“…so maybe we could go out to watch that movie? it’s coming out next week.”

“go out?”

“as friends, of course. i’m not looking to take someone home, either. if anything, i came here to keep my friends company, but…i think i lost them in the crowd.”

you look around, and seungkwan’s sitting at a table surrounded by a bunch of girls, and it makes you grin. he doesn’t need you sticking with him anymore.

“you were saying?”

“does next week work—”

“it doesn’t,” says a new voice. a familiar voice. there’s two hands on your shoulders, a familiar weight. “we’re hanging out at my place next week.”

“mingyu!” you exclaim, pulling him out from behind you. “don’t scare me like that.”

“sorry,” he says, not sounding the least bit sorry. “you have no idea how much time i spent searching for you only to find you hidden here.”

“why were you looking for me? how did you know i was here?”

he looks at you like you asked him something stupid. “because it’s late, and because seungkwan’s most definitely not driving you home.” ah. seungkwan must have asked mingyu to pick you up, given that he was your ride here.

“well,” you say, directing him towards your conversational partner. “this is vernon. my new friend.”

“hi,” he says, curt, and you frown. mingyu’s generally nicer.

“hey,” vernon says coolly. then he turns back to you. “can you give me your number? i’ll text you about it later, when you’re free. think i’ll search for them now.”

you hand vernon your own phone, given he’s had less drinks than you have, and it hardly takes a minute for him to enter his details before he saves his number and claps your shoulder, wishing you and mingyu a good night.

you find mingyu watching vernon making his way through the crowd. “so, who was that?”

“new friend. vernon. like i said.”

“a new friend? seriously? he just asked for your number.”

“so? he wasn’t hitting on me or anything. he just asked me so we could go see this movie we’ve been wanting to watch.”

mingyu’s eyebrows rise. “a movie? together? doesn’t that sound like…a date?”

you frown. “two friends can go watch movies, mingyu. don’t we do that all the time?”

“Yeah, but that’s because you know me. he’s just some random guy you met today. at a club.”

either mingyu’s being obtuse, or you’re not thinking correctly. “are you saying i don’t know how to read people’s intentions?”

“you’re drunk,” he says bluntly, taking off his jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders. “you don’t know what he wants.”

something about his tone makes you angry. he wasn’t even here the whole evening. “as if you do. you didn’t speak to him at all, mingyu. you don’t even know what we talked about.”

“didn’t you say you wanted to stop going out on dates?”

the coldness in his voice makes you freeze. you’ve never heard him sound so hostile, not with you. “what do you mean?”

“why did i have to find out from seungkwan that you were out here at this club just a week after you asked me to make you touch grass if you so much as thought of a date?”

“but it wasn’t a date!” you exclaim, feeling more and more annoyed. to your horror, you feel tears stinging the corners of your eyes. “are you saying i’m—”

“you’re drunk. you don’t know what you want. did you seriously expect to make friends at the club of all places?”

this isn’t your mingyu. he’d never judge you the way he’s doing right now. you take his jacket and throw it on the counter, turning around and marching out. you’ll call a cab to take you to your place. you don’t need him dropping you home.

“hey,” mingyu calls out, jogging towards you, jacket in his hand. “it’s cold. take this, please?”

“i don’t care about what you have to say,” you sniff, wrapping your hands around yourself. “don’t talk to me.”

“listen, you can be angry with me all you want, but just take my jacket. i don’t want you freezing out here when you don’t need to be.”

“maybe you should’ve thought of that before saying all that shit to me,” you spit. “why do you want to talk to me now? just insult me some more, why don’t you?”

mingyu huffs, but says nothing. he just looks at you.

“come with me.”

“where?”

“to my car.”

“why should i?”

“i won’t leave you here by yourself. i want to make sure you’re safe. let me drop you home and you can be mad at me all you want. please.”

“what, your night’s going to be a waste unless i come with you?”

“no,” he says quietly, and it makes you pause. mingyu is anything but quiet. “It’s never a waste. but it’ll just put my mind at ease if i know you’re safe, okay?”

you see the logic in his words, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. “fine,” you say, taking his jacket from him and slipping it on.

“thank you,” he says, opening the passenger door for you.

the drive to your place is quiet. you can tell mingyu wants to say something, start a conversation, but you keep your eyes resolutely fixed ahead.

“come on,” he says, unbuckling his seat belt and getting out when you reach your building. you follow him upstairs to your apartment. he unlocks the door for you and makes way for you to step inside first.

“do you need water? food? anything i can get?” he asks, taking off his shoes.

you turn around to look at him. he’s big, as always, but for once it feels like he’s taking up all the space in your apartment.

“i’m not that drunk,” you say finally.

he stands up straight to look at you. “but—”

“yes, i had some drinks, but i know my limit. i had my last one just before i started talking to vernon. i hate that you thought i wasn’t capable of making my own decisions.”

he swallows. “i didn’t mean to undermine—”

“but you did! and you don’t know how terrible it feels. i’m not a baby, gyu. i know what i want and what i’m doing. i’m hurt. and,” you say, taking in a deep breath, “if you really want to know something, know this — we’re in completely different leagues.”

mingyu frowns. “what do you mean?”

“i—” there’s so much you mean. you can’t possibly recount all the thoughts you’ve had about feeling inadequate, all the nights you’ve spent wondering how long it’ll be before he realizes you’re not as cool as you should be. “i’m not sober enough to talk about this.”

“you just said you weren’t that drunk.”

“this is my home,” you say, a bit harsher than needed. “you got me here safe, and that’s all you wanted to do. this is me being mad at you, so if you respect me, you’re going to let me sleep. okay? goodnight, mingyu.”

“goodnight,” he says, and you hate how small his voice sounds. “sleep well.”

and you do sleep well. well enough that you sleep through your alarm, and wake up almost when it’s ten. at least it’s a saturday, so you’re not freaking out as you brush your teeth. you have some work to do today. and hanging out with mingyu is on the agenda as well, but you’re not sure if you’re keen on going through with it, especially after what happened last night.

if you were delusional, which you’re most definitely not, you’d say that mingyu had been jealous that you and vernon had exchanged numbers in front of him. except there’s no reason for him to be jealous. like he reminded you, you’re not looking for any relationships. there’s no one he has to compete with, so to speak.

so why was he that upset last night? and what about the things he’d said to you?

you’ve had fights before, fights that ended up with both of you not wanting to speak to each other, but this was different. he’d never been angry like this.

you’re the one who’s upset, you realize, as you walk to the kitchen to fix yourself some breakfast. you’re going to talk it out with mingyu once your head is clearer, and you’re going to see what he has to say for himself.

except mingyu’s already here. you can smell the delicious scent of tteokbokki wafting through the room. mingyu’s set out two plates, two glasses — the usual. you’re feeling woefully under dressed in front of him in your pyjamas, despite the fact that he’s seen you like this multiple times before.

“morning,” he says. his voice is hesitant. It’s never hesitant.

“hi. morning.”

“slept well?”

“yeah, better than…what exactly are you doing here?”

“cooking you breakfast,” he says, waving his spatula around.

“i can see that. i meant here. in my place. didn’t you go back home after dropping me off?”

“no. i felt too tired to drive back home, so i decided to crash out on your couch. and i’m making you breakfast now. isn’t that a win-win?”

you can see one win, but you’re not sure what the other is. you take a seat at the table and pour yourself a glass of water, wearily trying to assess the situation. mingyu had pretty much scolded you last night. like a parent who didn’t trust you to make the right choices despite having free will. and now he’s cooking you breakfast like last night just didn’t happen.

“can i ask you something?” mingyu says, pushing a plate of tteokbokki towards you along with a pair of chopsticks.

“don’t think i can stop you, can i?”

mingyu huffs. “hey. if you’re upset with me, just say no.”

“what is it?”

“what did you mean by yourself being out of my league?”

you set your chopsticks down. “you’re serious? you’re really asking me that?”

he frowns. “yes.”

“mingyu, you called yourself my boyfriend a week back. your…better half.”

“that was to make your neighbour leave. she was being weird.”

“sure. and then we went back to life like nothing had even happened.”

“because…it hadn’t? i thought we talked it out that night itself? what happened now?”

“i don’t think you understand how that made me feel. especially when you said—” you say, voice trembling. “you called yourself my boyfriend last week. like it’s something you throw around naturally. and last night you acted all…weird, as if i wasn’t allowed to have a normal conversation with someone who wasn’t you. why are you so confusing?”

“would you hear me out if i said i had a reason?”

“you’d better have a damn good reason.”

mingyu sets down his glass and looks at you. “i’m sorry for everything i said yesterday. i truly am. i didn’t mean any of it. i was just…jealous.”

that catches your attention. “jealous? of?”

“that guy. vernon. you seemed like you were having a good time talking to him and i thought about how if you got together you’d probably leave our relationship behind because you liked him so much.”

“whoa. slow down. i told you i wasn’t looking—”

“you weren’t. i know that. but the way you looked at him made me feel something.”

“what?”

“i’m saying…” mingyu takes in a deep breath, and focuses on something past your shoulder. not meeting your eyes. “i’m saying i like you.”

you blink. “i’m sorry?”

“i like you, and i was jealous because you seemed to be having so much fun talking to him. if you have to know, there’s no guy who possibly deserves you. i’m not saying i do, either, but i’ll try my best to be the guy you deserve.”

it’s still too early in the day for this. “stop joking, mingyu. i don’t want to go through it again. just—”

“i’m not!” he exclaims, coming over to your side of the table. “thinking i could be with anyone i wanted is a bold thing to say. how do you think i feel every time i go out for company dinners but all i want to do is spend time with you? have you as my plus one every time?”

your heart’s fluttering very fast. you feel almost breathless. “i wouldn’t even look that good by your side.”

“says you. have you ever seen yourself?”

“i have, actually, and i look—”

“so gorgeous,” mingyu cuts you off, eyes twinkling as he says so. as though he’d been holding onto it for so long and finally found the right time to release it. “you look exactly like the person i want to spend every single day of my life with.”

you almost expect cameras to pop up out of nowhere and film your reaction to what he’s just said. “the…rest of your life? you do know that’s…a long time, right?”

“i do. and i’ve already spent four years with you. eight, if you’re counting the time before we became best friends.”

it’s everything you’ve ever wanted to hear. what he’s offering is so close to you, just an arm’s length away, but you can’t convince yourself to reach out for it. you hide your face in your hands. “gyu…”

“i’m serious,” he says, gently peeling your hands from your face. his hands are so warm as he holds yours, and his boba eyes are so close to yours. he’s adorable. “give me one chance?”

“what if we…mess this up? what if you realize i’m not that fun to hang out with every single day?”

“what if you realize everything you're thinking is wrong? what if you realize there’s no way i’m going to let things go wrong, especially when it comes to you?”

you don’t know what to say. you don’t know what the future holds in store, and you have no answers to your questions just like you don’t have answers to his.

“i know you think…not so greatly of yourself sometimes,” mingyu says, squeezing your hands. “and i want to be here to tell you that everything you think in that regard is wrong. i like you because you’re you. why do you think you’re the only one who’s been my best friend for so long? you’re the only one i can be myself around completely. tell me you know that.”

“i…didn’t know that.”

“then i clearly didn’t do a very good job at being your best friend. maybe i can fix that now.”

now. now that mingyu likes you. now that you have the chance to see your relationship blossom into something more.

“you’re not even going to ask me if i like you?”

a slow blush spreads across mingyu’s face. “shit, sorry. um, do you…like me?”

“of course i like you, gyu,” you smile, feeling giddy at the way he gets redder.

“good. can i, um, be your boyfriend, then? would you like that?”

“you’re not taking me out on a date first?”

mingyu’s eyes shine and he leans in till his nose is inches away from yours. “hi,” he whispers, and you actually whimper when his lips brush yours the slightest bit. embarrassing. mingyu doesn’t seem to mind, though.

“g-good morning, gyu.”

“the best, actually. even better if you let me take you out on a date today.”

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched

@minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @viewvuu @bewoyewo

[moni-logues]

Kintsugi 9

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, non-idol!au, angst, smut, eventual fluff

Summary: In a fit of spiteful, post-break-up self-improvement, you sign up to a baking class. Yoongi, in a bid to appease his demanding girlfriend, signs up, too. Determined to make him your friend, you end up with more than you ever imagined.

Word count: 6.2k

Content: MORE Yoongi POV!, um, honestly there's really not anything to warn for in this chapter, I don't think; Yoongi is not having a fun time

A/N: thank you to @quarter-life-crisis2 and @minttangerines for beta-ing this for me!!! Also, I know I have said before that this story is outlined for 10 chapters but it's going to be more like 12, so we're not THAT close to the end yet!!

Chapter Eight | Masterlist | Chapter Ten

Chapter Nine – Crush 

Yoongi stopped outside your building but you didn’t immediately move to get out of his car. You looked at him and had no name for what you felt, muddled as it was. You didn’t know what to say.  

“Thank you for driving me back,” is where you began. 

Yoongi grunted. 

“I was driving anyway.”  

“Are you ok?”  

He turned towards you and most of his face was in shadow, a lance of light cutting sharply across his face, missing his eyes entirely.  

“I’ll text you tomorrow.” 

You knew what that meant and you didn’t want to push for him to say anything more, not yet. You nodded, opened the passenger door, turned to climb out, and reached out to give his hand one last squeeze. You hadn’t been expecting him to hold on, so when he didn’t let you go, you fell backwards into your seat with a muffled ‘oof’, loud enough though to cover whatever quiet words he uttered. 

“What?”  

“Thanks for coming.”  

His voice was the smallest you’d ever heard it.  

“I’ll always be here for you,” you told him, meaning it, hoping he believed it.  

He let your hand go and didn’t stop you this time when you climbed out of his car and shut the door. You wanted to watch him drive away but you knew he wouldn’t leave until you were safely inside, so you waved and walked into your building.  

Yoongi slipped off his shoes and called out for Cherry, but he needn’t have bothered as she was already hurtling towards him, screaming what he assumed was invective for having left her for so long. He picked her up and carried her to the sofa and he had to remind himself to be careful, to not squeeze her too hard. At least someone was happy to see him.  

He lay, his body feeling thick and heavy, and stared up at the ceiling. The apartment was dark—he hadn’t turned the lights on—and where he had been hoping it would feel like home, that he would feel relieved and comforted to be back in his own space, he felt empty. 

That raw, clawed-out feeling burnt in him. The emptiness rang out in the cold, dead space of the room. He felt skinned alive. Everything he had not wanted to deal with, everything he had been putting off, everything was hiding from, everything that scared him most in the world had come home to roost. All at once. He used to think of you when he felt like this. You made him feel one ounce lighter, one shade brighter, a little less hollow. He would think of you and remember that you were there and remember the promise that you had made and he would go to sleep and wake up to another morning.  

Now, he couldn’t even think of you. Because he couldn’t pretend anymore. Because you had come to Daegu and met his family and held his hand and nothing had ever made him feel more cared for. These feelings that he’d had, that had sparked in him the second you smiled at him and waved him over on that very first evening, that he held close to himself like a warding spell, were no longer under his control.  

He had denied them at first, obviously. Strenuously. You were friendly; he wasn’t used to people being so friendly. You were generous and sweet and overly familiar and it took him off-guard, that was all. Then you gave him a brownie and his heartstrings snapped. He carried that brownie around with him until he had to throw it away, not because he didn’t want to eat it, but because he couldn’t bring himself to make it disappear. It showed him all the ways in which you and his ex-girlfriend were different: all of the ways in which you made him feel happier and lighter and like he was having fun, like he was a person who could have fun and all the ways in which she made him feel bad and irritable and lonely.  

He tried to deny that, too, furious and sick with guilt at his disloyalty. His cowardly resolution was to not talk to you at all, made all the harder by the fact that he ended up at the station next to you and then harder still at the way you kept talking to him, the way you stopped talking to him when he didn’t utter a word in response.  

He usually took a long way home, a detour; sometimes he stopped in at a friend’s for a drink or a snack or he wandered around a convenience store, putting off going home. He didn’t that night because he felt sick with himself, made livid by his own cowardice. So he had walked into his apartment and Cherry had been curled up on sofa, which was very unlike her, but Yoongi hadn’t had to wonder why for very long. His ex had never been quiet and neither, apparently, was the guy she was fucking in Yoongi’s bed.  

He figured he deserved that, but it had also given him a really good excuse to break up with her, to kick her out, to stop feeling guilty when he had realised that he didn’t actually fucking like her at all. The relief he had felt when she left was physical. And fleeting, because then he had felt guilty about the way he had treated you.  

He never intended for you to sleep together. There was no plan. No plan other than seeing if maybe he could be the person you made him feel like. Could he be fun? Could he be a person that someone like you would like? Could he be more like you? But then you had put on that fucking dress and all he’d wanted to do was take it off. You had put on that dress and he had accidentally told you that you looked sexy and you had looked surprised, delighted, so fucking cute and he had been way past most of his inhibitions by that point so he just... kissed you.  

He knew it wasn’t the start of anything. He knew you were going to backtrack, brush him off, sweep it under the carpet. He knew and he forced himself not to mind because everything you had said was right; you had already told him enough about your relationship and break-up for him to know that you wouldn’t have wanted anything with him. And that was fine by him, for the most part. He was safe at this distance, nursing his delicate feelings in secret, unworried at the prospect of being found out or having to do anything about them.  

Besides which, you loved him. You told him that. So quickly that he automatically didn’t believe you, couldn’t believe you, because love doesn’t just spring up like that, but you told him and you called him sweet names like you did Taehyung and you teased him and you showed up and you understood and even though he didn’t think it was possible, not really, he believed you when you said it. He was happy to have you in exactly this capacity because your generosity of spirit and your kindness and the brightness of your spark carried him through. Every time he thought to himself, sad and lonely and miserable, that no one like you would ever want someone like him, that you could never see him as a real man, as a true partner, as someone you might want to be with, he reminded himself that he had you as a friend. That had been enough.  

But now, it wasn’t. Now, Yoongi couldn’t hide from himself anymore. He had, foolishly, when he had been wrung out and exhausted and it was almost five in the morning, told you that he wanted a hug and you had got on the first fucking bus to come and give it to him. It had broken him. It had broken him open and there were worms everywhere. It had been like trying to swim through mud; he was fucking drowning. Then he would see you—in the kitchen, preparing dinner; out in the garden with his nephew; looking tired and biting the inside of your lip like he knew you did when you felt self-conscious—and it was like a lungful of air. Like a lungful air getting punched out of him.  

It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough anymore to be your friend, to be at a safe distance. He wanted the distance between you to be atom-thick. He wanted to take a hold of you and never let you go. He wanted to pour his entire wretched heart into your hands.  

He knew he never could.  

You had been clear. You were just friends. You were just friends and, besides, you weren’t seeing anyone right now; you were off romance, off relationships. Everything would have had to be different for him to stand a hope in hell of getting what he wanted. Though, in a warped kind of way, he didn’t really want to get what he wanted either. Because, as much as he wanted to be with you, he didn’t want you to be with him. You deserved more. You deserved better. You deserved the best. He was far from that.  

You had said so yourself that people like you—people like the person you had been—people like Yoongi, they were burdens. You had said you were unlovable and you had said so many times that you and he were the same. He looked at how you saw yourself and he knew you saw him the same way. How you used to see yourself anyway. Because you were brighter now, lighter, genuinely happier and more confident. He didn’t know how it was possible because he had already thought you were the sun when you first met, but the brittleness of your spite had disappeared, the frequency with which you joked about dying had diminished, and there was something more peaceful about you now, the spikes of your anxiety more like ripples.  

Yoongi wasn’t ripples. Yoongi wasn’t even spikes. He was a pit. An abyss. A blackhole. And the very last thing he wanted was to suck you into the middle of it. You deserved more than anything he could ever give you, so he could never tell you how he felt. And now that feeling hurt.  

You sent a text to Taehyung as soon as you stepped inside your apartment. 

[18:31]  You: can you please come over so I can have my crisis now? 

[18:34]  Teddy 🐻: ofc sweet thing. I'll text you when I'm on my way xxx 

* 

The door beeped and you were just about to sit up from your slouched position on the sofa and exclaim about how glad you were that Taehyung was here, when you spotted Hyunjin just behind him and you stopped. 

“Hey!”  

You greeted them both but it came out a little more hesitant than you liked. 

“Hey! Don’t worry, I’m not staying,” Hyunjin replied with a wide smile. “My friend lives around the corner so I’m going to hang out with him for a bit but I thought I’d come up to say hey, happy new year.” 

He shrugged and your heart melted. 

“Oh, bless you! Happy new year, babe! Got any resolutions?” 

“I don’t know,” he answered lightly, casting his eyes about, nodding his head side to side. “Have more fun? Take more chances?” 

“Sounds perfect.” 

“What about y-” 

“No, do not ask about mine. I cannot even fathom having a resolution about anything right now. Why do you think Teddy’s here? He has to tell me what to do with my life, as usual.” 

As if on cue, Taehyung handed you a glass of wine from a bottle he had taken out of your fridge.  

“I’ll leave you guys to it. Just wanted to say hey. So, hey.” 

“Hey,” you repeated with a wave as he shut the door and left the two of you alone.  

Taehyung sank into the sofa with a sigh that was unlike him and you eyed him suspiciously. 

“What’s up with you?” 

“We’re not here for me, babe; this is your crisis.” 

“No, there’s something going on. You have energy.” 

“It’s really nothing,” he insisted, taking a long gulp from his wine glass.  

“Tell me or I won’t tell you anything. The entire fucking confection, Teddy.” 

He looked at you, blinked slowly, and then put his wine glass back on the coffee table. 

“Hyunjin is leaving.” 

“What do you mean leaving?” 

“Leaving Korea. He’s going to Paris.” 

“What?!” 

“Yeah... But it’s fine.” 

“Fuck off is it fine! He can’t leave! He can’t leave you! Why? Why is he going?”  

You felt betrayed on his behalf. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Taehyung and Hyunjin were perfect together, everyone knew. How could he just leave? You reached out to take his hand but he pulled it back. 

“He got a graduate scholarship thing for the- I don’t know the name, it’s in fucking French, Beaux-Arts school or something.” 

“Aren’t there arts schools in Seoul?” you demanded. 

Taehyung smiled in appreciation of your outrage, but he shook his head. 

“Not like this one. This is a huge opportunity for him; he couldn’t turn it down. I wouldn’t have let him even if he’d suggested it... And anyway, it’s not like we were serious; this was always a casual-” 

“FUCK. OFF. You and your bullshit ‘casual thing’. He was your fucking Morticia, Teddy.” 

“I’m serious,” he said, in the voice that brooked no nonsense. Then he sighed. “He’s been applying for this stuff since before we started seeing each other; this was always going to happen. That’s why we were trying to keep it casual. And I’m happy for him, genuinely. He deserves it. It’s an incredible opportunity and I’m glad that he’s got it...” 

“Just also kind of fucking sucks, too.” 

He began to nod but then it changed to a shake. 

“No. No. No, I’m not doing all of that. He leaves in two weeks. In two weeks, I will be sad. In two weeks, you can have another family emergency and take care of me when I can’t get off the sofa and want to drown in vodka ice-cream floats. But I’m not sad yet, now, because he’s still here. So it’s fine.” 

You looked at him carefully and he let you when you tried to take his hand again. 

“Ok, but also, I am really fucking sorry and you have to promise you’ll tell me when you are sad. You carried me through a break-up and I want to do the same for you.” 

“Oh, darling, I’ll be putting you through your paces, don’t you worry about that.” 

He knocked his glass against yours, as if making a deal, and you forced him to let you give him a tight squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. Then he shuffled to face you properly. 

“Come on, then. That’s out of the way. You can have your crisis. Start from the beginning.” 

That you could do. The start was easy. 

“Ok, so I was with my parents over Christmas and we went to the supermarket...” 

* 

“I just don’t know what to do,” you said when you very quickly reached the point at which things stopped being easy and stopped making sense. “I don’t understand. I don’t know how I feel and I don’t know what to do with that. I have Feelings, Teddy, you know this. My feelings are always big and loud and strong and I know what they are—no matter how unreasonable or disproportionate or stupid, I know what my feelings are. Always. And now I just... don’t? And I don’t know how to find out. And I don’t know what to do or what to say or what anything means and it’s all so confusing and c-” 

“Ok,” Taehyung held up a hand to stop you. “Can I tell you what I think?” 

“That’s literally why you are here.” 

“You have feelings for Yoongi.” 

It made you squirm to hear him say it out loud like that. Something didn’t feel right about it. It made you feel uncomfortable, made you want to shrink away from him and cover yourself. There was a discomfiting churning in your guts that made your body feel weak. You shook your head. 

“No.” 

“Yes.” 

You knew that you had started this, that this conversation was happening because you had said to him that you thought that maybe, actually, perhaps, you did have feelings for Yoongi but hearing him say it out loud, such a bald statement like that, made you recoil. You wanted to chop those feelings off at the root- pull them up from the roots before they could sprout. No, you couldn’t have feelings for Yoongi. 

“No.” 

“Yes.” 

“I said NO!”  

You picked up a cushion and tried to hit him, not gently, in the face. He had his arms up in front of him before it could make contact and he merely took it from you and placed it on the floor next to him. 

“And I said yes.” 

“KIM TAEHYUNG!” 

You picked up another cushion and he was so shocked that you called him by his actual name, his full name, that this one hit him square in the face. When the cushion fell, he looked at you, open-mouthed, genuinely surprised for a moment, before his face settled into exactly the sort of face a teacher might use on a child who was having a tantrum. 

“Babygirl, I can see you’re getting angry,” he said, using the most patronising tone he could muster. He even reached out and took one of your hands in his. “And what do we know about anger, hm? It’s a secondary emotion, that’s right. So what do we do when we’re feeling angry?” 

“I want you to get out of my house.” 

“No, you don’t,” he said in retort, back to his normal voice. “You want me to say that you don’t have feelings for Yoongi and everything will go back to normal and you don’t have to worry about anything. But that’s not fucking true.” 

You flopped backwards against the sofa and sighed, defeated, feeling an enormous wobble start in your chest. You did your best to beat it back but it still choked your voice when you next spoke. 

“I don’t want to have feelings for him.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because it’s Yoongi.”  

“It is. Why are you saying that like it’s a bad thing?”  

You didn’t want to say it all. You didn’t want this to become clear. You hated the confusion but this would be even worse. Because Yoongi was safe to you; he was your safe space, in a way that was different from Taehyung, and you’d done that. You’d had a safe space; you’d had a boyfriend who was your safe space and it had been your downfall. He had broken up with you for it. You couldn’t lose Yoongi. You couldn’t go through it again; you wouldn’t make it out the other side, you just knew. 

“I love him,” you said quietly, tears brimming. “He’s my friend. It’s too much.” 

Taehyung nodded and thought for a minute or two while you sat sniffling next to him. 

“Yes,” he said eventually. “It’s scary... What about if we made it less scary?” 

You looked at him doubtfully but this was where Taehyung shone: trying to convince you of his visions. 

“Having big, new, romantic feelings is terrifying, but have you ever had a crush? That's fun, right? Like with me and Hyunjin, how I would go into the café and hope he was there and I’d see if he drew a little smiley face or flower on my cup and how I alwa-” 

“I fucking told you you were dotty about him from the start! Playing it cool, my fucking arse.” 

“Yes, yes, fine, I admit it. But it was fun. You remember having a crush, a harmless, cute, little crush that never has to go anywhere-” 

“Like you and Hyunjin, you mean?” 

He rolled his eyes. 

“Ok, fine, that wasn’t a good example, but you know what I’m talking about. That guy who always gets the same train as you, or who lives in your building, who you see from time to time and you get to just go mad fantasising about him and what he’s like and what your relationship would be like and all that. That’s fun, right?” 

Yes, you could remember those feelings. The bubbliness, the fizzing, the curling in your toes and sparkling in your eyes. You didn’t see how that could possibly apply to your situation though. 

“What I’m saying is,” he continued, reading your mind, “can you... lean into this? Lean into your feelings and just... have a crush on him?” 

You looked at him in disbelief.  

“You’re fighting your feelings right now, right? You’re so confused and upset because, as you literally just said, you don’t want to have feelings for him. You’re trying to deny it. I’m saying... don’t. Give in to it. Just to see. Try the feelings on. Maybe they’re not comfortable and you don’t like them and you do want to be just friends with Yoongi. But maybe they are comfortable and you will have clarity on what you want because you’ll have let yourself feel things.” 

“You know I’m not going to pay you for this therapy session.” 

You were pouting, sulking. You didn’t want him to be right—you never wanted him to be right about your life, even though he always was and you were always grateful to him for it in the end. You just didn’t like this part, where he was able to poke around your insides and see you better than you saw yourself. 

He grinned. 

“I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know, love. You said it yourself: your feelings are bloody loud. You know what you’re feeling and your feelings are arguing with each other.” 

You sighed dramatically with a heave of your chest. 

“I don’t know how to have a crush on Yoongi.” 

“That’s why you try.” 

“What if I do it and I really do have feelings?” 

“That’s when you tell him.” 

You grimaced at the thought, squashing yourself against the sofa and away from Taehyung. You could never. But you would try this crush thing; it gave you some direction, some way to channel your feelings. You would do it in the hopes that it didn’t work. You hoped whatever you were feeling now would go away. You and Yoongi were just friends. That was the whole point. That was it. Nothing more. You would prove it.  

Your fortnightly dinners were reinstated and the following Friday was your first opportunity to test this out. A crush, you reminded yourself. A cute, innocent crush. You pretended to yourself that your nerves were excitement, that the anxiety was anticipation. That the sweat in your palms and snakes in your gut and the buzzing sound at the back of your mind—all good things.  

It got off to a bad start because Yoongi looked so worn and tired when you saw him. All your nerves were replaced with worry and a sinking in your stomach and a rift opening up in your heart. He insisted he was fine; it was weird adjusting to being back; he was still processing Daegu. He was fine, he said. He was fine. He promised you. And then you could see him making the effort to be a little brighter, to smile a little wider than he wanted to. You loved him, you reminded yourself; he was your Yoongi, your person, your friend.  

“I may have to cancel our next dinner, just so you know,” you told him as you picked up a slice of the pizza he had ordered (which is how you knew he was not fine, not really). “Hyunjin is leaving Korea and I don’t know how Teddy will deal so I want to make sure I’m available.” 

“Oh, he’s leaving? Where to?” 

“He’s going to fucking Paris to become Monet or some shit.” 

You weren’t angry with him, not really, but you were angry with the situation and it was such a clean feeling, amongst the mud of all your others, that you indulged in it. 

“That’s a real shame.-” 

“Yeah, and you never even so much as got to kiss him.” 

His mouth twitched up. 

“Truly the greatest tragedy of my life.” 

“You’ll live.” 

“Yes, but is a life in which you’ve never kissed Hyunjin really a life worth living?” 

“Guess we’ll just have to find out.” 

* 

You felt him relax as the night wore on; he was a little less brittle, a little softer, and you hoped he was feeling better. He had spent weeks living with people--his family—and then come back to an empty apartment to live alone; that would’ve been a tricky adjustment at any time, but especially when his grandfather had just died, and especially because it was him and you knew how he felt about his family, his home, himself.  

His sharp edges worn a little smoother, though, meant that your worry eased and, without even trying to, you were looking at him differently. Noticing things you maybe hadn’t before. His hair was thick and dark and longer than you had ever seen it; it suited him. It looked good when he pushed his hand through it and it immediately fell back in strands over his face. You hoped it wouldn’t annoy him into cutting it off.  

“Your hair looks nice,” you said, without thinking, regretting it immediately when he looked at you, a surprised ‘o’ on his pouty mouth, his eyes wide and disbelieving. 

“Thanks?” 

You felt embarrassment creep up your neck and you didn’t know what to do. You suddenly couldn’t remember what you would usually do or say. You chuckled and bit the inside of your lip, hoping he wouldn’t notice. You wanted to reach out and trail your fingers through it, just a little, a gesture more than a touch but you didn’t know if that was something you would do, as just a friend. Your mind had gone blank. Would that be weird?  

“Yeah,” you said, somewhat pointlessly, to break the silence more than anything else. “It’s um, it’s long. You’ve grown it long.” 

He shrugged. 

“I haven’t really grown it; I just haven’t cut it. My mum said I should. She wanted me to cut it for the funeral actually but I didn’t have time.” 

“No, you look good with longer hair. Really good.” 

That was too much, wasn’t it? All your jitters had returned but it was almost worth it with the way his ears went pink at the tips and his mouth pulled into a pursed, shy pout.  

“I’ll tell her,” he said, a half smirk on his face, making eye contact with you for only milliseconds at a time.  

* 

You were exhausted by the time his apartment door was shutting behind you and, when you got home, you did something you almost never do: you wrote in a journal. It was something your therapist had you do in the immediate aftermath of San breaking up with you, when your feelings were so strong and so many that you couldn’t get your mouth around them, couldn’t parse them because of the way they howled around you in a screaming gale. This wasn’t that, but you had now spent a fortnight with everything buzzing incessantly in your head and Taehyung might have helped (or might not have—jury was still out) but you had to try to find some kind of clarity, to at least purge these feelings so they existed somewhere other than your brain.  

You repeated this over the coming days, scribbling furiously whenever your mind turned to Yoongi (which it did, all too often) and you were relieved when you had to cancel your next dinner together (Hyunjin had left and Taehyung was calling you from his sofa). Relieved because all your writing made the crush thing easy; it was easy in your imagination but you didn’t know how you could do it in real life, faced with the real him.  

You found out a couple of weeks later. You weren’t nervous this time because you felt inured to it by now. You had exorcised your anxiety and you thought you had exorcised the crush, too—you had thought of little else and the familiarity of those feelings was starting to reassure you. All the things you were feeling were things you had felt all along; you had always known he was handsome, and cute, and funny; you already knew he was kind and sensitive and generous. None of this was news to you so you didn’t need to fear romantic feelings or test a crush anymore. He was the same Yoongi he’d always been. 

Then you opened the door to him with half his hair tied in a bun on top of his head and, when you meant to say hello, what came out was, 

“U-h, um.” 

“Hello?”  

He looked at you, theatrically quizzical, and walked past you into your apartment. He placed a box on the counter—dessert—and was peering into the pan on your stove when he noticed you were still staring. 

“What?” 

You merely gestured to your head and swallowed. He mirrored your gesture and looked hesitant. 

“It stops it getting in my face,” he said, unsurely, as if you had been asking for an explanation.  

You could see his cheeks turning pink and he was reaching backwards, as if to take out the hair tie holding it there. 

“No, no!” you exclaimed. “It looks good. Uh...” You cleared your throat. “Really good.” 

You felt a little breathless, your chest a little tight, your stomach fluttering.  

It turned out that, all this time, as you had been writing down, with such confidence, all the things you liked about Yoongi, all his good qualities, all the things that anyone with a crush on him would believe, thinking that it was catharsis, that you were expelling these feelings, you had really been confirming them. You saw his smooth, shiny skin and his dark, narrow eyes, crinkling at the corners when he smiled, when he laughed, when he opened his mouth wide and showed his tiny teeth and it made your heart flutter; you saw his hands, deftly untying the ribbon he had put on the dessert box and it made your own fingers twitch with how much you wanted to touch him; your mouth was dry looking at his pink lips, the strong arch of his cupid’s bow—every time you remembered the name, you remembered Hallowe’en and how much fun you had had, how easily Yoongi had slipped in, and it made you feel warm in a way that also made you wobble. It made you feel soft and scared and like this wasn’t just a crush.  

You shook your head to dispel the thought and set about serving up dinner. You ate it, as you always had, at your little makeshift table, and you talked and you tried to concentrate on the things he was saying, but he was so close to you, always so close to you in the confines of your miniscule apartment, that you found it difficult not to let your mind wander. You could barely remember what it was like to kiss him—that night was still a blur—and it made it all the more tantalising. This knowledge that you had, somewhere in the recesses of your mind, you imagined it coming back the second you kissed him again; you would remember it from that night but it would also feel like you had kissed him a thousand times already, like your mouths knew each other in lifetimes before, like somewhere your souls had previously met and you had been doing this all along.  

“So?” Yoongi asked, nudging you with his foot and bringing you back into the room. 

“Huh, what? Yes.” 

He grinned, knowing he had caught you not listening. 

“My birthday party; will you come?” 

“What?! Oh my god, it’s your birthday?! Of course! Happy- wait, when is it?” 

His eyes were crinkling again and your heart was skipping beats. 

“9th March, a few weeks. Party is on the 10th.” 

“Obviously, I would love to come. What do you want?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean as a present. What do you want for your birthday?” 

He shook his head. 

“Nothing.” 

“Yoongi, I have to get you something.” 

“No, you don’t. I don’t want anything. Just come.” 

You rolled your eyes. You decided not to fight with him because you needed to preserve your energy for worrying about what to get him.  

* 

Usually, you had dinner and dessert and sometimes an extra drink or two and that was it, but you didn’t want this night to end. You hadn’t been spending time together outside of these dinners and you wanted to maximise this time; you didn’t want him to leave. Not yet.  

“Want to watch a film or something?” you asked as you stood from your stool and piled dishes in the sink. 

“Oh, uh, ok, sure.” 

“You pick; the remote’s on the table, I think. I’ll wash up while you choose.” 

“I can wash up.”  

He was moving next to you, reaching for the bowls in your hand. 

“Fuck off, babe. I’m doing them. You go and sit down.”  

You fixed him with a determined glare and he backed down. 

“What sort of films do you like?” 

“I’m best friends with Teddy; I promise you, I can sit through anything. Put on whatever you like.” 

“Tazza?” 

“Yeah, sure, what’s that?” 

When there was only silence in response, you turned around from the sink to see him looking at you in shocked incomprehension. 

“What do you mean, ‘what is that’? Have you not seen Tazza?” 

“Haven’t heard of it.” 

“How is that even possible? Come here right now, we’re going to watch it.” 

“Give me a minute!” 

* 

You pushed your luck, pushed your nerves to the limit. You curled yourself into Yoongi, telling yourself that you would happily sit like this with Taehyung so why should Yoongi be any different? You were the only one who knew it was different; there was plausible deniability all over this thing! You stretched your legs out over his lap and, eventually, he rested a hand on your knee; it was heavy and warm and distracting. You shuffled down and rested your head on his shoulder; you hoped he might shift and put his arm around you, or if not around you, at least over the back of the sofa so you could snuggle down further, smell the detergent on his shirt, maybe feel the hair at the nape of his neck. He didn’t. You tried not to be disappointed. 

You also tried to follow the film, you really did, but when Yoongi’s other hand came to rest next to his other, just a little higher on your leg, over your thigh, you found yourself incapable of paying attention to anything else. You wanted to take his hand, hold it, lace your fingers with his. You wanted to trace the vein on his hand all the way up his arm, wondering if it was true what the Greeks said and it really did go all the way to his heart. You didn’t do that. You just kept staring at it, imagining that you could.  

You tipped your head up to look at him, the profile of his face; a loose strand—freed from its elasticated prison—fell over his eye and you couldn’t resist the urge to try to tuck it gently behind his ear. It immediately fell forward again when he turned to look at you. The swoop in your stomach almost made you gasp and you flicked your eyes back to the TV screen, feeling the heat in your cheeks and the stutter in your heart.  

* 

When the film ended, you wanted to think of something else to get him to stay longer but it was already late and he was already stifling his yawns. So you let him get up, you forced him to take back some of the yakgwa he made (he may have missed that class but he certainly made up for it; they were better than any you had ever attempted), and you closed the door behind him with a sigh.  

You reminded yourself that this was a crush. It was a fun, harmless, innocent, little crush. That was all. Nothing to get carried away with. Nothing to be scared of. Just a crush. A crush. 

But it was also Yoongi and your heart was starting to ache.  tags: @chimmisbae, @idkjustlovingbts @miriamxsworld, @quarter-life-crisis2, @tarahardcore, @simp47koreancrackheads, @xyahrinx, @olyd, @diorh0seokie, @thelilbutifulthings

Chapter Eight | Masterlist | Chapter Ten

[tricitymonsters]

I know I put a lot of attention on Steam because of the sheer size of the marketplace and the effort Steam itself takes in marketing for devs but I really wanted to take a second to shout out TCM's numbers on itch.io because I really feel like the game found it's first platform there and I especially want to highlight what a great community it is for Indie Devs of all experience levels.

So I have TCM split up between 4 titles on itch- the main one is for all the new stuff and then each beta has it's own homepage. Downside, it kinda splits all my metrics up but the plus side its much easier to navigate for yall so I'll refrain from complaining lol.

Now given we started with just the Mori beta in late 2021, and added chapters slowly over time, here's where we're at right now.

Views: 312k

Downloads: 22.3k

Browser Plays: 35.6k

Ratings: 347

Collections: 5295

Comments: 189

So there are a couple really interesting things going on with this data. Let's analyze

Firstly, the numbers on the main chapter beat the *hell* out of the beta numbers. BUT this makes sense as more people are going to find the main game or PLAY the main game first at a vastly higher rate. So even though that game page has been up the least amount of time, it gets *by far* the most traffic. For example, if we take away the main page numbers, here's how the betas are doing on their own:

Views: 63.3k

Downloads: 5.4k

Browser Plays: 18.2k

Ratings: 133

Collections: 847

Comments: 42

So, if you were an indie dev posting your game on itch.io, these numbers should tell you to carefully consider how you're going to organize your game- especially if it comes in multiple parts. When I was going through the betas I did consider keeping everything on one page and therefore aggregating all of my traffic stats into one place but there are pros and cons.

Mostly, I went with separate pages because:

It's easier to organize files for downloads per character/game piece than to have a huge list of system-specific builds for every character that players have to scroll through. It's just hard to parse out.

Second, I thought that breaking up the chapters like this might help me better gauge each character's popularity via their stats. This... sort of worked. Because the Mori beta went up almost a year before Amir's, his numbers are MUCH higher and I have to be careful not to conflate that with his raw popularity. Another tricky note is that since Mori was the first chapter uploaded, many people will play his beta and then if they decide they're not into the game, won't play the other two characters, which again inflates Mori's numbers.

It was obvious in the gap after Spooktober 2021 and Amir's chapter that I had a project worth pursuing but the way I structured itch.io has made it hard to accurately gauge how popular exactly each character is.

Most of you know I'm running a popularity poll right now for some milestone art and while I expected Mori to lead (even with all the caveats I just listed, he does tend to be the most popular of the bunch) but I did not expect Akello to be *right* on his ass, even before weighing the patreon votes so.

Goes to show you that understanding structure and traffic trends can really go a very very long way to engaging your audience and build a stable, fun community around your game.

Another huge advantage to itch is that- in generalities- the community and ecosystem there is much kinder to beginner devs and passion projects. On steam, I'm taking up the same marketplace space as AAA multimillion-dollar games and while the eyeballs that comes with that is great for TCMs longevity hopefully, it also comes with the reality that I'm marking a queer niche adult visual novel right next to Mainstream Gamers. Now, I do want to be extremely clear that my experience with Steam so far has been really good- TCM has good and (more importantly) honest reviews, people have passed constructive critique to me and been extremely reasonable, I've managed to connect to some content curators who have similar tastes... But Steam is also the home to like. "Oooh Naur Woke Games Kill Art" Lists and stuff so. My experience on Itch is that- while some of that exists to a certain degree- the general ecosystem is much more forgiving and less sharply fractured.

I'm not sure that I would change anything I've done in the point leading me here so far, I think that by and large I've made the best choices I could given what I knew at the time and also managed to roll with the punches as the come but my experienced advice at this stage is definitely for an indie dev who hasn't landed a solid success yet or a hobby dev looking for feedback to start with Itch.io as a place to build your game's community.

There are other game hosting sites too, like Gamejolt, for instance, but while TCM used to be on Gamejolt their content policies and audience demographics were not a great fit, as was my experience with Newgrounds.

So. there are MANY choices but in all I'm grateful I didn't jump right into steam and also that my itch.io audience has been SO supportive and so enthusiastic about rating/commenting/and curating TCM to help spread the word. Especially since early in the project I had basically no marketing budget (I have a very small one now that covers the occasional blazed post but still).

ANYWAY thanks for reading my big dumb rambling posts but I really wanted to shed some light on the virtues of Itch after I've been chasing my own tail trying to get Steam working for me the way I want.

[diredesiretoaspiretodiehard]

Armand and Marius discuss monogamy. Fic by me. Unfinished, unpolished (obviously). If anyone is interested in beta or co-writing let me know !!! I have a bunch of related drabbles written. Idk if I wanna write the explicit bits cuz I've never done that before. :) constructive criticism welcome, I haven't posted on AO3 (yet)

"I have a terrible idea that you're going to hate.”

“Oh?”

“But I think it will be good for us.” Armand fidgeted, hoping his dear Master would at least entertain the idea.

“Tell me, my love.”

Armand bit his lip, slid his hands gently along Marius’s chest. Making himself look irresistibly adorable, as if such a look could make his words more agreeable. “I think we should be exclusive.”

Marius's brows pulled together in confusion. When he didn't speak, Armand clarified quietly, “monogamous.”

Marius had to stifle a laugh. It was, indeed, a terrible idea. Monogamous vampires? And with Armand having a veritable bench of lovers lined up behind him.

“Funny how this idea pops up only when I find myself entangled with another.” Marius thought his child was being transparently jealous.

Armand frowned gently, frustrated with being called out so clearly. “I don't like your fling with Yousef,” he admitted, the familiar pang of jealousy twitching to life in his gut. “But it's more than that, Master. We're trying to rebuild. Everything feels so… raw. And I don't know, I think it would help us focus on each other. Without all the other distractions.” Without Yousef, he didn't say.

Marius thought on this. His thumb stroked softly at Armand's hip. Going exclusive could be very helpful in eliminating some very obvious barriers to their slow rekindling. But it would also be a great way to end up getting cheated on. “Would you forsake your other lovers, Amadeo, truely?” Marius leaned down to brush his lips gently against Armand’s neck, lingering with a kiss at his jaw. “Will you be satisfied with just me?”

Armand turned to meet Marius’s lips for a proper kiss, desire clear in his eyes as he pulled back. “I'm always satisfied by you, Master.” Truely. Armand grinned cheekily, “I may be a bit more demanding though.”

Marius could imagine. He chuckled and kissed his young lover again. “You've always been demanding.” Remember the ax. “my insatiable lover.”

Armand returned the kiss passionately now, feeling very much the demanding lover. His hands slid up over Marius's shoulders, tugging gently for him to lay more fully over him. Marius obliged, settling between Armand’s legs. Pressed flush together now, their tongues met. Armand felt the familiar thrill rush through him. Surrounded by his Master, feeling the hard press of his body atop him. Marius had one hand at his hair, playfully tangling to hold Armand in place. His other caressed his boy’s throat, teasing touch where he knew Armand liked to be choked. Armand made a small sound in the back of his throat, and pressed his hips up just an inch. Marius’s hands came down from where they were and quickly pinned his hips down. Fuck, he was so strong. Armand tried to press against his hold, knowing it was futile. He grew harder at the thrill of being overpowered like this. Marius broke off their kiss to look down at his fledgling. Armand’s hands came up to hold around his neck.

“Exclusive.” Marius pondered. “I'm not against it.” He pulled back to lay at Armand's side again. “We should discuss it more though, Amadeo. If we're going to do this we need to work out the details.”

Armand was equal parts elated and frustrated. Elated that Marius had basically just agreed to his stupid, ridiculous idea. Frustrated that it meant they would now be talking instead of fucking.

Armand pulled himself up to sit against the headboard. “Really?” His face lit up that Marius didn't seem to even need more convincing about this. “So, you'll end it with Yousef?”

Marius looked up at his beauty from where he half-lay, propped on the pillows. His lips hardened into a firm line, suspicions confirmed that the root of this idea was truely his fledgling’s jealousy. “What do you envision this monogamy entails? No sex? No kissing? Or am I meant not to interact with him at all? Surely he and I can remain friends even if I'm to break off any physical part of our relationship.”

Armand hated that. “Are you friends? Would you be friends with him if he wasnt your lover?”

“Perhaps.”

“Marius.” Armand chastened him, pissed off at the lack of answer. Armand knew the real answer. Marius didn't make friends with pretty boys like that, not platonically. The idea of Marius keeping up some false pretense of friendship with the boy while playing faithful husband to Armand made his stomach flip.

“Armand.” Marius said firmly, placing a hand over Armand’s knee to soften his words. “I'm not trying to be pandantic, my love. I need to know what you want from me with this arrangement. We have to have clear rules.”

“I want you to break up with him.” Armand said simply. “No sex, no kissing or blood sharing or touching or flirting.”

“No flirting?” Marius raised his brows in surprise. “You realize that whatever rules I have to abide by, you do as well, right?”

Armand huffed. He knew the conversation would come back around to him eventually anyways. But he couldn't help the sinking feeling that Marius simply didn't want to stop flirting with Yousef. “Okay fine, yes. We can flirt.” He rationalized. “In general, with people. Like, just casually. But I don't want you flirting with Yousef.”

“That hardly sounds fair.”

“Well I'm just being honest.”

“And you, my child? You will break up with Louis?”

“Louis and I are lovers yes, but friends and companions first. And he's sorting out his own stuff with Lestat. Louis and I can take a break from the physical aspects of our relationship for a while.”

“For a while?”

“Yes, well. I mean. We're going to live forever. I think, I don't know, that we should be monogamous for now. Until we've figured out our own relationship. I'm sure in the future we can open ourselves up to others again, when the time is right.”

Marius considered this. “Temporary monogamy.” He hummed. “That sounds more reasonable.” He did like the idea of having his Amadeo all to himself. “And what of Lestat?”

Armand had the gall to look surprised. “Lestat is not my lover.”

“No. But you wish him to be.” Marius could tolerate the thing with Louis. He understood the bond Armand and Louis had together, after so many years of companionship and such similar despair in both of them. But Armand's deep infatuation with Lestat made Marius feel dreadfully frustrated. He hated it. “If I'm not allowed to flirt with Yousef then I don't want you flirting with Lestat.”

“I don't flirt with Lestat,” Armand said, affronted.

Marius resisted the urge to scoff at that. Flirting, fighting, mooning over the Prince like a lovesick puppy. He didn't want Armand doing any of it. “I’m just being honest.” He parroted Armand's words back to him.

“Nothing is going to happen between Lestat and me.” Armand said.

True, because Lestat won't allow it. Marius didn't say.

“And what of our dear Daniel?”

Armand perked up. Daniel is family, lover, child, fledgling. And Marius had his own intimacies with Daniel as well. “Daniel is an exception. If you're alright with that? I don't think either of us should sacrifice any part of our intimacy with him.”

That sounded reasonable to Marius. “I agree. He is family. I should like to keep him as a love as much as I'd like you to keep him. We've both built so much with him.”

“Maybe we can have threesomes.” Armand joked, but he meant it. If Marius wanted to.

Marius gave a soft laugh, “we could.” He pulled Armand's hand to his mouth, kissing his wrist where the veins were blue. “If we're going to do this, it's all built on honesty. No keeping secrets. No lying. If I ask you about something, Armand, you have to be truthful about it.”

Armand's eyes narrowed and he pulled his hand back, “we both need to honest, Marius.” If anything, Marius is the one between them who's always keeping secrets.

“Of course,” Marius allowed, not wanting to turn his fledgling's mood for the worst. “That's what I meant, love.” Marius wrapped his arms around Armand, pulling him down and closer to him. “I agree this will be good for us” I would do anything for you.

Armand wrapped his legs around his master's waist, pressing naturally against him. His favorite spot. “You're all mine now.” he hummed, kissing at Marius's throat.

“You want to taste?”

Yes, Armand's body screamed at him. His master's blood, right there for him. Yes. It was the most addicting blood, the most satisfying. YES.

Armand shook his head, ‘no.’

He moved up to Marius lips, kissing him slowly. Marius obliged, didn't push on the matter. Armand was cautious about blood sharing with him still, and it broke Marius heart. His boy didn't trust him, no fully, not yet. Maybe this monogamy would help.

Marius deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue gently past Armand’s lips. His hands held Armand at the hips, guiding him to grind up against Marius’ abdomen. Armand groaned at the pressure against his hard cock. He wanted more.

*Smut*

“Master?”

“Yes, love?”

“Tell me when you break up with Yousef.”

What a terrible thing to say. Armand thought to himself, before falling into the death sleep.

[girlonthelasttrain]

my one Legend of Korra fic from 2017 just got to an interesting kudos milestone.

If we're taking that number seriously it's my most popular fic. Actually it's always been my most popular fic and it's always been a bit strange to think about! I wouldn't at all write it in the same way now but I'm still proud of it as the first story I ever had the courage to post anywhere on the internet, even if I was already in my late twenties by then.

Shortly after I posted that fic I got into Trek femslash which is a much much smaller fandom, plus I feel like I turned away a bit from the most popular tropes of f/f fic, which makes for an interesting dichotomy. On one hand if we go by pure numbers alone, I've always been doing "worse" than my first fic, but on the other I'm fairly proud of how far I've come as writer since then, and very grateful at the level of engagement I got on pretty much all of my other fic. Even considering the notorious kudos/views ratio, a lot of the works I'm proudest of are below the dreaded 0.1 threshold. (This is not even getting into how views are counted on AO3 which tl;dr I have the suspicion is not very accurate, especially on multi-chapter works.)

I still take a look at the statistics in my AO3 page (mostly because I like to compare wordcounts) but the more years pass the more meaningless the numbers become to me. Every time I see a post on here that cites a numbers-based criteria on which people choose to read or choose to be proud of their own work, I admit I feel a bit dejected. I don't think the numbers measure anything but how much a single story appealed to most readers in one given fandom. And even then so much engagement happens through word of mouth, the "appeal" is really hard to pin down from the raw numbers AO3 collects. My Legend of Korra fic got read a lot after the show landed on Netflix, for example, three years after I posted it.

I don't know. Those numbers for a first fic with which I was stretching my writing muscles in public for the first time keep me grounded. I'm very grateful, obviously, that people read it and still read it. It also helps me remember that things like numbers have meaning only insofar as I allow them to. Again, I would not write the same fic at all today. Maybe I can only say this because my first attempt at fic in English was warmly received, and perhaps in another universe very close to this one I would have found a different hobby by now. But then again I recall better as "warm reception" the fact that my beta reader offered to look it over sight unseen and all the comments I got on it, rather than the raw numbers alone.

[that-crazy-five-foot-two-chick]

Summary: Winry sat in the optimal place to study in the school cafe for the entire fall semester. Then spring came, and suddenly some self-entitled twit who dressed like off-brand Gerard Way decided it was his territory. He was so not going to get off easy.

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.8k words of coffee shop/college AU with a side of enemies to almost-lovers

A/N: It's finals week, I posted this on Ao3 at almost 5am, and if the rest of the sentence didn't make it obvious, I'm writing from unfortunate experience. Not beta-ed or proofread, although I happened to see one thing to fix when I woke up this morning. Feel my raw power. Rawr.

It wasn't that big a deal.

It kind of really was, though.

Every Thursday morning during the fall semester, Winry sat in the same spot at the same school coffee shop. It was the spot sent by the entire patron pantheon of cram papers. Maybe one person didn't need an entire booth, but it was in the corner, and the tops of the bench seats had opaque plastic barriers that just so happened to be perfect for minimizing excess visual chaos. For the most part, there weren't loud conversations, and the jazz music that came through the speakers helped her tune out people ordering coffee. Add to that the fact that she could use campus flex dollars and not her own bank account that was begging for mercy, and it was the perfect spot to get papers done.

But apparently not this spring.

As soon as Winry walked in, she noticed him in the corner. Some emo wannabe guy on his computer. Probably on Reddit complaining about how women didn't appreciate the amazing pics he sent them on Tinder. Or at least, it was a fair guess based on the sour look on his face. Why did this guy of all people have to steal the holy grail spot? Ugh. She was still gonna get her coffee, darn it.

"You know the deal, Sciezska. Medium roast with a shot of espresso and vanilla creamer."

"On it! You paying in flex?"

"Yeah." She scanned her student ID and lowered her voice. "Who's off-brand Gerard Way in the corner?"

"Who's Ger—"

"The punk kid."

"Ohhh. I can try to get his number for you, if you want."

"No, he looks like a total tool! And not the kind I like dealing with!"

"Which means you think he's hot. I didn't think you were into that type, but you're not wrong."

"For the last time, no, Sciezska! He took my spot! And I'm trying very, very hard to keep this to a stage whisper, but if you keep trying to set me up with some random creep, I won't be able to!"

A distinctly male voice grumbled, "I'm not a creep."

"Keep telling that to the girls on Tinder. I'm sure they'll understand eventually."

"Yeah, and I'll bet if you look at your 'Live, Laugh, Love' sign a little more, you'll understand it eventually." He mumbled something under his breath.

"What was that, Mr. Nice Guy?"

"Lay off, it's eight in the morning. I said the only reason I even have a Tinder account is because my roommate stole my phone while I was going to the bathroom."

"Well, if you didn't want it, why didn't you delete it?"

"Eh, I figured if I really got sick of being single one day, it'd already be there."

"Never would have guessed you were single," Winry said dryly.

"Come on, it's way too early to be rubbing that kind of crap in. Who says I'm not fine with being single anyway?"

Sciezska timidly spoke up. "Medium roast with espresso and vanilla creamer?"

Winry thanked her as red jacket boy continued. "'Edward Elric, Bachelor.' Almost sounds as good as 'Edward Elric, Bachelor of Science.'"

"B.S. degree. Sounds about right."

"About time you stopped acting like I'm an idiot!"

Winry snorted. "That's not what I meant."

"Hey!"

"And with that, I'm going to go find some other spot to write my paper."

Edward, as his name apparently was, scoffed and mumbled something that sounded like "good riddance". Maybe the librarians wouldn't get on her case too much for bringing in coffee.

-----

A week later, Winry walked into the cafe, assuming the circumstances of the previous week were an anomaly. They were not.

"Medium roast with a shot of espresso and vanilla creamer," she grumbled and sulked in the direction of the corner seat.

"Hey, don't start with me again, blondie. I've had a whopping four hours of sleep and I can't promise you'll like what comes out of my mouth."

"We're at a coffee shop. Get some coffee. I can't help it if you're too hung over to be polite."

"Now look, genius. I did not stay up until 4 A.M. working on a stupid chem paper for that sadistic pyromaniac excuse for a professor just for some random chick to accuse me of being hung over."

"Oh."

"Yeah. And for your information, coffee doesn't really help me wake up. It just helps me focus on homework." He lifted up his empty cup and gave it a shake.

"That's the weirdest thing I've ever heard."

"ADHD is a weird thing, and yet, here I am."

"Huh, interesting."

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to pick up where I left off with the same stupid ten page paper I started last night."

"Oh right. Sure," Winry stammered. "Listen, I'm really sorry I just assumed things about you. It was wrong of me, and I'd like to make it up to you, if that's okay."

Edward eyed her suspiciously. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well...I could look over your paper once you're done writing it? I've got a paper of my own to write while I'm waiting, and I can sit right across the table here so you don't have to come get me. I won't try to talk to you or anything. Neither of us need that kind of distraction."

"Alright, alright. Get your coffee and sit down. The girl at the counter's been up there waiting for a good minute or two while you've been at confessional over here."

"Wait, she has?" Winry's eyes widened, and Edward laughed at her expense. He was kind of attractive when he wasn't scowling...wait what? She pouted and got up to retrieve her coffee. When Winry returned, she plopped down on the bench opposite Edward and opened her laptop. Peeking out from behind it, she added, "By the way, I'm Winry. I figured you ought to at least know the name of the person who's proofreading your paper."

"Well, Winry, you're the one who volunteered." The corners of his mouth twitched upward. The two worked on their assignments in silence, occasionally speaking up when necessary.

-----

Edward was in the corner again the next week as well.

"Hey, Edward! Mind if I join you for homework again?"

"Normally, I'd say no, but you didn't bother me too much last week, so you might as well." He turned away slightly.

"Great! Have you gotten your coffee yet? I didn't see a cup, and you got something the last two times."

"Eh, I haven't been here long. If you're going up and getting yours, would you mind ordering a caramel macchiato for me?" He asked, sliding his ID across the table.

"Yeah, no problem. I'll be back in a sec."

She returned and slipped his ID back before pulling out her computer. "Do you have anything for me to look over this time?"

"Not this week. But if you have anything you need looked over, I can do that, too."

"Actually, I do, if you wouldn't mind."

"Winry, I just volunteered. Just send the paper to my school email. Mine's 'elricedwa'," he instructed as he proceeded to spell it.

"Medium roast and a caramel macchiato?" Sciezska called out.

"Coming!" Winry replied and turned to Edward. "I just sent it, so you should be able to start while I'm getting our stuff." Eyes glued to his laptop, Edward gave a thumbs up.

Once she returned with their drinks, Winry sat down and wordlessly set Edward's drink next to him.

"Thanks," he muttered distantly. His lips mirrored the words he was reading. Though his lips weren't plump by any stretch of the imagination, they were shapely. His steely concentration made the air leave Winry's lungs. To top it all off, the first rays of sunlight came through the window just right, hitting Edward's hair in a way that made it positively glow.

What was she thinking? Those were only the sorts of things people thought when they had a crush. She'd only had two positive interactions with him, including this one. ...well, maybe it was a crush. She could certainly do worse than someone with a questionable fashion sense. After all, he worked hard, and he got good grades, if the quality of his writing was any indication. Okay, fine. He was also drop dead gorgeous, if you could see past his clothing choices. Yeah, she had a crush.

"Did you hear anything I just said?"

"...no."

"Figures. I finished reading your paper. It's not bad, I just left a few suggestions for sentence structure. Now I am going to enjoy my caramel macchiato." He took off the lid and breathed in the steam with his eyes closed, nearly drooping into the cup in content. When he opened his eyes slowly, Winry was awestruck by the similarity between the color of his eyes and his drink.

"What?" Edward furrowed his eyebrows.

"Nothing. I didn't say anything. At all. Nope."

"Okay." He shrugged. She reopened the document and went through his suggested edits. Gnawing her lip in concentration, she leaned forward a bit to settle in and tackle the editing.

"...hey, uh, Winry?" Edward gulped. "Are you going to drink your coffee?"

"Oh! Yeah, I almost forgot. Thanks, Edward!" she smiled.

"No–no problem. And you can call me Ed, you know. Most people do. Except for that excuse for a professor that calls me pipsqueak. Can you believe he's my advisor? I mean, come on, I'm a grown man. I'm not that short."

Winry made a poor attempt at containing her laughter. "Okay then, Ed. Prove it. Stand up."

"Fine." He slid out of the booth and stood. Winry followed suit and appraised their respective heights.

"Well, I'd hardly call you tall, but you're at least taller than me by a few inches, for whatever that's worth."

Edward grinned as if he had won some sort of prize. "Time for shorties to sit down now!"

"Watch it now. You're not too far from that label yourself, mister."

They both returned to their positions in the booth and worked steadily for the next hour. At the end of that time, Winry closed her laptop. "Ed, are you okay? You seem distracted."

"ADHD. I'm always distracted," he dismissed.

"No, like, are you sick or something? You did get more than four hours of sleep this time, right?"

"No comment." Ed's mouth twitched. He mumbled barely loud enough to hear, "Wouldn't have mattered anyway."

"Are you sure? If you're not feeling well, I can drive you over to the health center."

"N-no. That's not it." He exhaled, then slid a napkin across the table. His hands trembled slightly. "Anyway, here's my number. In case you need me to look over a paper. Or whatever. I've got a class soon."

Winry blushed, but tucked the napkin in her laptop. "Thanks, Ed. See you next week?"

"Yeah. Next week."

-----

Winry: This goes with your major, right?

Edward: Blocked

[waywardscorpio]

You're Our Omega And We're Your Alpha's: Chapter Two.

A/N: I'm so, sorry everyone. I know, I said a few days. Friday my family and I, was hit with a loss. I will also sometime soon I'll also be posting my Baron Corbin Fanfiction. It will be Baron X Reader as well as an Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics Book. I thank you ladies and gentlemen for being patient with me. I hope you enjoy this chapter. It probably sucks a little and I apologize for that.

Tag list:

@phoenixoffiretwo @scuzmunkie @callmekda @braunstrowmangirl

WARNINGS: FLUFF, PREGNANT READER, POSSIBLE CUSSING, PISSED OFF ALPHA'S DEAN, SETH AND ROMAN, AND A LITTLE BIT OF RUSEV AND LANA IN HERE WITH MENTIONS OF A FEW OTHERS.

*Seth POV*

"Hey Dean, and Roman, can we talk?" I asked the other two males in the locker room. "Yeah man what's up?" Roman said. "Have either of you noticed Y/N, has been glowing lately? Or that she's been throwing up the past few days?" I asked them. Dean looks at me as he spoke "Yes, I noticed it yesterday." Dean looked at me. "Matter of fact so, did I" Roman says as he fixed his ring gear. "Its been a month since we mated and she hasn't wrestled the last three weeks either. I think she might be hiding something." I said. "Her smell has even changed and she's become very protective of her stomach. She may honestly be pregnant." Dean added. "Come on now. Y/N, wouldn't keep anything from us." Roman said. "She would if she was scared we'd leave her." Dean says.

"Let's go talk to her" Dean offers and I nodded agreeing with him. All three of us got up an walked out the locker room and went to Y/N's, locker room and knocked. "Baby Girl, can we come in?" I asked. "Y-yes" she said. I open the door and walk in with Dean and Roman following me into the locker room. "Princess, what's the matter?" Roman asks softly. "N-nothing. I'm fine" she lied looking anywhere but at us clearly hiding something and scared. "Baby Girl, don't lie to us. We're not going to get mad. I promise" I said softly as I lift her chin to look her in the eyes. "You promise not to hate me or leave me?" She asks softly. I could hear the worry in her voice. "Baby Doll, we could not ever hate you." Dean said as he and Roman walks over to us and stands on each side of Y/N, and myself. "I'm.... I'm pregnant" she said finally and closed her eyes and cowers a little scared she might get yelled at. "We're going to be Dads?" Roman asked a huge smile on his face. "Yes. You're not mad?" She asks softly. "No, ofcourse not, Princess." He said kissing her. "We are happy, Baby Doll" Dean added and turned her head to kiss her. "And we're not gonna leave" I add lastly as I turn her to look at me as I kissed her softly. "Mine" she said softly nuzzling into me and pulling the other two, to us as close as possible.

We stood there in a comfortable silence, before a Crew member knocked on the door saying we had five minutes until mine and Roman's tag team match against the revival, for the tag team titles. Dean, Roman, myself and Y/N, all walk to the gorilla pin and wait for our entrance music to come on. We got to the ring after the entrance music was about over and Lillian introduced. Dean kept a protective stance and arm around Y/N. The revival came out next and was introduced. "Well Michael Cole, it looks like this is gonna be a fight for the titles tonight" Renee said. "Indeed, Renee it is. The Shield is determined to get them titles" he said.

"1...2...3. And the new tag team champions are Seth Rollins and Roman Reigns" the referee says as the match ended. Roman and I, finally got the titles back. The revival was furious as they got out the ring walking up the ramp. Dean helped Y/N, into the ring as as we got the belts. Half way up the ramp the revival turned back around to head to the ring again. The get in the ring and attack Dean and Roman. I grabbed Y/N, and carefully helped her out the ring so, she wasn't in the line of fire and neither was our unborn chil or children. I pull the one that was hitting Roman, off and started punishing him. The other that was hitting Dean, threw him over the top rope, close Y/N. She went to Dean's side. I could hear her talking to him. "Dean are you okay?" She asked on the verge of tears. It's one thing Y/N didn't like, and that's seeing one of us hurt. "Yes, Baby Doll. I'm okay." He said.

"BABY DOLL, MOVE!!" Dean yells at her pushing her out the way and taking a blow to the ribs. Y/N whimpers startled from what just happened. "Baby Girl, go. Get out of here." I yell at her. She was to frightened to move or do anything. I see Lana and Rusev running down the ramp. Rusev went for the revival member outside the ring, an Lana went to Y/N, dragging her up the ramp quickly out of harm's way. Roman superman punched the one and Rusev slammed the other into the side of the ring.

While we were fighting and beating the hell out of the revival we didn't know Y/N and Lana were being sought after by Sheamus and Cesaro. Lana knew Y/N, was pregnant so, she did everything she could to protect her. Becky wasn't here tonight because she had the night off. "Come on, Love." Lana said going into a locker room locking the door and hiding with Y/N as she attempted to keep her calm. "She love. I know you're scared. But we have to be quiet okay?" Lana says softly to Y/N, who's covering her mouth the muffle her cries and whimpers.

The door to the locker room they were in was busted down as the the bar began to search the room for the two ladies. One being our mate and the other being a good friend of ours. Myself, Dean, Roman and Rusev, ran up the ramp quick to look for Lana and Y/N. One of the crew members pointed us in the direction of were the two girls were and who had been following after them. My blood was boiling, eyes dark with rage, and one thing on my mind; and that's was to get to Y/N, before she got hurt, because I wouldnt ever forgive myself if she got hurt or worse. I knew Dean and Roman had the same attitude, rage and only the same thing on their minds as I did. Rusev only wanted to get to his wife and omega before she got hurt. I ran as fast as I could to get to the room. I seen the door busted down and Sheamus, had Y/N pinned to the wall by her throat. She was scratching and clawing at his hand, tears rolling down her face, and one hand protecting her stomach. "LET HER GO!!" We below out loud and deep from within our chest. The roar echoing threw the halls. Sheamus smirked knowing just why he got under our skin. His other hand meer inches away from her stomach. I could hear faint running footsteps from half the Raw and Smackdown roaster coming towards us. Nina Jax, heard her cousins howl and knew immediately there was trouble and a brawl about to break out. "Don't you fucking dare touch her!" The rage only built more but I wasn't gonna attack with Y/N, in the line of fire. Rusev saw red when he seen his beloved wife pinned against the couch struggling to get away to help her friend. She did the last thing she thought of and kicked Cesaro in the balls. Cesaro held his crotch smacking her. Rusev grabbed him by the neck and picked him up before slamming him threw the coffee table.

Before Sheamus let Y/N, he rubbed her belly smirking darkly at her. She started whimpering more her omega side was scared and wanting her Alpha's. As soon as he let her go, Y/N crawled to a corner shaking like a leaf terrified and that's all it too for Dean to go full fledge Lunatic Fridge on Sheamus. Nia ran up and seen what was going on, she could feel everything. Being an alpha herself Nia knew all to well that shit just got real and fast. "I'M GONNA KILL YOU" Dean screams as he bounced Sheamus head off a wall and throwing him towards us and out the door. Sheamus staggers to his feet and attempts to get away. But he couldn't when I tackled him from behind. Nia looked at the scared girl in the corner and seen red herself cause that was her family to. She grabbed Cesaro and dragged him into the hall way. As the brawl went on and the fighting continues it took every referee, security guard, and roaster men and women to pull us The Shield, Rusev, and Nia Jax off of The Bar. The bar laid beat and bloody on the ground. "Enough. What in the living hell is going on?" Triple H yells as he came into view. Dean proceeded to tell him everything and after that let's just say Cesaro and Sheamus were suspended for two years and on injury leave for a year as well. As soon as we were let go me, and the three others along with Nia, Stephanie and Triple H ran to were Lana and Y/N, were. But when we got there they weren't there and we began to panic. A camera man told us that they were sent to the infirmary. We all bolted to the infirmary. Lana was standing next to Y/N, while she was being checked out by the medical team. My heart dropped thinking she was hurt or the baby or babies were hurt and I knew that Dean and Roman were feeling the same way.

After what seemed like hours the doctor said she has no, serious injuries but should be taken to a hospital to be sure the baby or babies are okay. They called an ambulance to have her taken there now. Roman rode with and me and Dean took the car. Stephanie, Triple H and the others called Becky, got ours and Y/N stuff from our locker rooms while we followed the ambulance. "I swear to God if our baby or babies are hurt or Y/N is I'm going to rip out The Bars throats myself." Dean said. He was alot calmer but still pissed off as was myself and Roman.

In the ambulance Roman soothed Y/N by softly rubbing her hand and her belly. "I'm sorry, Alpha. I tried to fight him off but I wasn't strong enough" Roman's heart fell hearing his omega blame herself for something that wasn't her fault. "Shhh Princess. You don't need to apologize for anything. This isn't your fault."

After we got to the hospital, an Y/N was checked in and evaluated the doctors came out to talk to us. "Ms. Y/L/N, family or friends." We shot up out of our chairs and walked over to him. "Is she okay? Is the baby or babies okay? What's going on?" I asked immediately. He could tell we were worried like hell. "Her and the fetuses are okay. She'll have some bruising around her neck for a while. She is to take it easy for the rest of the pregnancy. No heavy lifting, and nothing strenuous. I'll keep her over night under observation to be a hundred percent sure. She is asking for you three as well. You may go see her but don't upset her or agitate her." He said. We nod and quickly go to her room.

Y/N was sitting up a little but breathing softly in her sleep. Roman and I stood on the left and Dean stood on her right. We each gently gave her a kiss  as we laid our hands softly on her tummy. Her eyes flutter open and she looks at all of us. "Hey Beautiful. How you feeling?" I asked her. "My throat hurts a little. I'm sorry I tried to stop him from touching me" she whispered softly. I shook my head "No, Baby Girl don't apologize. It's not your fault. You did your best. Don't worry we took care of them." I said softly to her rubbing my thumb gently over her tummy. She nodded softly as she placed her much smaller hands over ours and went back to sleep after whispering a soft "I love you, Alpha's" we all smile at her. "We love you too, our Omega" we all got chairs and sat by her bed hands resting on her tiny baby bump.

The next morning the doctor released Y/N, from the hospital. He gave us strict orders not to let Y/N, over work herself, or anything that can hurt her or the baby or babies. We took her straight home to our shared house. We got her set up on the couch with anything she wanted. "Baby Doll, are you hungry?" Dean asked her as I was putting in our orders for lunch. She nodded and looked at me. "Spicy Chicken Salad, Hot Wings and a one liter pepsi Please, Master?" She asked. When we were alone at home or when no, one was around she always called us by the names she gave us the first night we mated. We never corrected her because it made her happy. "Yes, Baby Girl. Anything for you." I said and put in her order. "While we wait for the food I'm gonna go get in one of the showers alright, Princess?" Roman said to her. She nodded her head "Okay Sir. May I have a kiss?" He smiles as he walked over giving her a soft kiss on the lips and then went upstairs to get in the shower. "I'm getting one too, Baby Girl" I said kissing her soft before going upstairs. Dean looked at her and walked over to her. "Baby Doll, would you like to take a shower with me?" Dean asked her. "Yes Daddy." She answered and he picked her up taking her to one of the other bathrooms in the house. He turns the shower on nice and warm, and strips her, then himself. Dean helps, Y/N into the shower and then gets in himself shutting the door. Me and Roman finished our showers first and went to were Y/N and Dean, were at. Me and Roman lean on the door way watching how gently Dean was being with Y/N. Roman and I were always worried about Dean finding his mate and then it turns out that all three of us get to share the most smart, beautiful, loving, and amazing omega. We all found our anchor and happiness and we wouldn't have it any other way. Roman pulled me out the room and to the kitchen to talk.

"Y/N's, birthday is coming up in a month. I was thinking why don't we plan something for her that she can do?" He said to me as I got plates and cups on the table for when the food got here. "I think that is a perfect idea. What are we going to do about work? We can't leave Y/N by herself and if she does go back we can't leave her without an alpha strong enough to protect her." I said. "Rusev or Nia? Maybe even Baron? They all adore her. Speaking of Nia, said she wants to be God mother of the little pup or pups." He said. "I agree with the choices. Nia I agree with that. Becky wants to as well. I can tell you this, the pup or pups will have a loving and protective family. Did anyone call Randy to let him know Y/N, is okay and home?" I asked him. "Yes I did. He said him and Nia would be over Friday to spend the day here. Out of all the roaster, Y/N is loved by most of us. She never did nothing wrong to anyone." He replied. "Okay I'll go grocery shopping to get food and drinks for Friday. Yeah, I know she is. She is a hell of a actress in the ring but outside the ring she is as soft spoken and sweet as can be. Hell the first time Dean laid eyes on her he was wrapped around her finger like we are." I said and he chuckles an nods agreeing with me.

Dean walks in with Y/N in his arms dressed. "Feel better Baby Girl?" I asked her. "Yes, I'm just hungry" She replies. "The food should be here any minute, Princess" Roman said to her softly. About five minutes later the food got here. I set the table up and put the food all on the table. "I love you, Alpha's" she said softly. "We love you, Omega" We all say at once. We sat at the table eating in a comfortable silence.

After eating dinner Dean and myself clean up and put the leftovers in the fridge. "Alright Baby Girl, let's get to bed" I said softly to her. "Can we watch a movie until I fall asleep?" She asks. "Ofcourse, Baby Doll" Dean says. She held her arms out for Roman to pick her up, an happily Roman obliged to the silent question. After going upstairs to our shared room with a custom built bed big enough for all four of us, I put in a movie to watch.

About halfway through the movie Y/N, had fallen asleep curled up between the three of us. After making sure she was comfortable and completely asleep the three of us went downstairs to have a talk.

"I talked to Nia and Baron. They said that they'd be more than happy to stay with Y/N, and protect her when we aren't around or she doesn't go to the ring with us." I said to the other two as I pour a drink sitting at the table. "That is great. I swear, I ever see them two again I will break their necks myself for touching or even looking at her" Dean said his temper flaring on the last sentence. "Dean clam down. She'll since you're upset." Roman said watching him as the grip on the glass cup he had in his hand got tighter. "Dean loosen up on the cup before you crush it and get cut." I said. Dean put the cup to the side and took a few deep breaths. "Sorry. I should of made her stay in the back or at home. I knew something was gonna happen." Dean said rubbing his face with his hands angrily. "Dean calm down" Roman and I said. We could since  he was getting upset more and blaming himself. I could hear light pitter patter of Y/N's feet. "Dean she's awake. You need to calm down before you do something you won't ever be able to take back." Dean's chest was rising up and down fast. "Daddy, Master, and Sir?" Y/N called out looking for us. "I'll get her Roman. You get him to calm down" I said and he nods his head.

I walk out to the kitchen "Baby Girl, you okay? Do you feel sick or hungry?" I asked her as I pushed her hair from her eyes. "Daddy's upset. I can feel what he is feeling. I want Dean." She said softly. "Baby Girl, Dean needs time to calm down. For your safety and the pup or pups safety. You know how his temper is and I know he wouldn't live with himself if he accidentally hurt you or the pup(s) any harm when he's upset." She frowns at my words. I hug her gently rubbing her back. "Just give Roman a few minutes to get him to calm down, Baby Girl. Okay?" She nods softly against my chest. After some convincing Roman was able to get Dean, to calm down. "Baby Doll?" Dean said softly. Y/N turned around and looked at him. "Dean what's wrong? I can feel you're upset. What's bothering you?" She asks as she walks over to him. "I don't wanna talk about it right now Baby. I don't wanna get worked up again and possibly hurt you not meaning to because if my anger get out of control I don't want to accidentally hurt you or our baby or yours and the others baby. I wouldnt ever be able to live with myself" Dean said. I could tell he was worried genuinely about her and the babies. "You won't hurt me, Dean. I trust you." Y/N, said softly touching his cheek. I seen Dean physically relax into her soft touch.

"Can we go to bed?. I'm getting sleepy again." Y/N asks softly yawning and rubbing her eyes. I nod my head. We went up stairs, laid down and fell fast asleep.

[curegbm]

Susan Foster info for health -

July 7, 2020

When I was a junior in college I went to school in Vienna. One of my friends was Martina Nicholson. She became an OB/GYN, and just retired last year. She has a colleague, Dr. Richard Loftus, who is a biohazard virology-trained hospitalist. In other words he is treating COVID-19 patients in the hospital. I've read a lot of these accounts and this is the most powerful one I've ever read. It makes you want to hand out masks to everyone who's not wearing one. I am going to print this and carry copies with me when I'm walking. I will hand this out to people who don't have masks. If anybody gives me a hard time for my post on masks, you will get a copy of Dr. Loftus' brilliant, raw, painful account of what it's like treating these patients. What really struck me is how sick young previously healthy patients are 3 – 4 months post release from the hospital. Please be careful. Do not, for one more second, doubt this is real.

From Martina Nicholson, MD:

From my friend Dr Rick Loftus, MD. yesterday (7/2/20), update about Covid-19:

I'm in a hotspot hospital in a hotspot region (Coachella Valley, Inland Empire, CA). We just converted the entire second floor of our hospital to COVID-19 care yesterday, July 1. We have 65 inpatients with COVID-19 in a hospital with 368 beds. It is the same at our other 2 hospitals in the Valley. We spent yesterday deciding the ethical way to divide up limited remdesivir (30 patients' worth) for the hospital patients. My 20 incoming interns for our IM resident were exposed to COVID 2 weeks ago during their computer chart training; apparently 100% of our computer trainers had COVID19. One intern tested positive 7 days later and I insisted we re-test them all again, as there are almost certainly other cases with minimal symptoms. I raided my household and took my entire supply of face shields to the hospital for the residents to wear on their first day, and I paid $1000 of my own money to equip all of my residents with medical-grade face shields. I require all residents to wear a surgical mask or N95 with face shield if they are within 6 feet of another human, patient or coworker.

Roughly 20% of our inpatients die. Only 30% of our ventilated patients survive. (We try to avoid ventilation at all costs. Some people insist on being full code and decompensate despite high flow with face mask, proning, dexamethasone, antibiotics, and a cocktail of famotidine, zinc, Vitamin D, Vitamin C, NAC, and melatonin--we throw everything we can at each case, so long as it won't hurt them.)

My administrative assistant, who sits adjacent to the interns, just went home with COVID symptoms. Her test is pending.

In the Southwest, we are experiencing catastrophic exponential growth. I have had multiple families--siblings, parent-child, spouses--admitted with COVID-19. I had a 31 year old come in satting 78% on room air; he had been sequestering himself in his bedroom for a week to avoid infecting his elderly parents, with whom he lived. His sister, the only person he saw outside his immediate household in the 10 days prior to onset of fever, cough, and dyspnea, had also had fevers but had tested "negative" at our other large hospital so he thought it was safe to visit her. (Sigh. The Quest PCR test is about 80% sensitive, we think--it had emergency approval to sensitivity data was not required. The Cepheid rapid COVID PCR test is 98.5% sensitive but is in short supply due to limited reagent availability.)

I'm glad some of you are sheltered from what unbridled COVID-19 looks like. It's a hell show. This is *July*. What do you think my hospital will look like in winter?...

This is real. Doctors in places with proper public health responses will see few cases in their hospitals--like UCSF--but let me tell you something: The laws of physics and biology don't change. If you're in an unaffected region, an introduction and poor governance and low use of physical distancing and masks will give you an exponential increase in no time flat (i.e. 2-4 weeks). That's pandemic math. And 20% of the population infected needs a hospital. You *will* run out of beds with an unbridled pandemic. There is almost ZERO pre-existing immunity to SARS-CoV-2. There may be some "priming" of T-cell responses due to exposure to other "benign" beta-coronaviruses, but we have no idea if that explains the 20-40% of people who seem to get minimal symptoms. Asymptomatic infected persons, however, can, and do, spread COVID to those who die from it.

By the way: I've seen scary looking CT scans of the lungs that look like terrible interstitial pneumonia in a patient who had ZERO symptoms and SaO2 94% on room air. She came in for palpitations and the intern overnight got a chest CT for cardiac reasons. We didn't know it was COVID until her test came back 36 hours later. So "asymptomatic" does NOT mean "no biological activity." The virus replicates furiously in people who feel fine. Kids can spread this as easily as grown ups, even if they feel okay.

Related: I've talked to two previously healthy patients ages 32 and 44 who are 3 and 4 months, respectively, post their acute COVID. They continue to have cough, nightsweats, fever, fatigue. How many survivors have "post-COVID syndrome"? We don't know. Less than 20% but we're not sure. I've asked my hospital to allow me to establish a post-COVID clinic to care for and study survivors. Both NIH and UW are planning similar efforts based on my dialogues with them.

Autopsies show anoxic brain injury in many patients who died of COVID, not to mention microthrombi throughout the lungs and megakaryocytes in massive infiltrations in their hearts and other organs. People get heart failure, lung fibrosis, and permanent kidney injury from COVID-19. This is a disease of the vascular systems, and it can affect any organ, with lungs and kidneys being especially at risk.

In early May, thanks to lockdown, our census of 55 came down to 10 COVID cases, and for a brief moment, I actually had hope that the worst nightmares I had about COVID, as a biohazard virology-trained hospitalist, would not come to pass. Then we re-opened, without test/trace/isolate systems anywhere close to adequate. Eight weeks ago my county decided to make masks "optional," despite 125 doctors begging them not to do that. Now we're worse than we were in April. And it's getting worse every day.

You wanna see if COVID is real? Come walk on my COVID ward with me. It's real. Hearing people talk about it as if it's an exaggeration is, well, rage-inducing, honestly. Denial is the most common reaction to a pandemic. Denial is how the US will wind up with 1.1 million deaths instead of 30,000. I saw AIDS denialists get killed by their belief that HIV "isn't real, it's a pharma conspiracy of the medical industrial complex." Yeah, right, if you say so. I watched patients with those beliefs die.

The hardest part about this is, every new case I treat exposes me. I have assiduous hot zone technique. But no technique is bulletproof. If you keep exposing me to case after case, eventually, the virus will get through my defenses. I'm a 50 year old hypertensive. I don't expect to do well if I get infected. For now, I keep going to work. I'm one of the few pushing forward on COVID clinical trials, basic science, public health messaging, and diagnostic studies at my hospital. I feel a responsibility to keep going. I wake up with nightmares every morning at 4am. But I'm going to keep going for now. I feel very alone a lot of the time. People are not taking this seriously, and it's costing lives. -R

"Everything we do before a pandemic will seem alarmist. Everything we do after a pandemic will seem inadequate. This is the dilemma we face, but it should not stop us from doing what we can to prepare. We need to reach out to everyone with words that inform, but not inflame. We need to encourage everyone to prepare, but not panic." — Michael O. Leavitt, 2007

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Richard A. Loftus, MD

"Never be afraid to raise your voice for honesty and truth and compassion against injustice and lying and greed. If people all over the world...would do this, it would change the earth." --William Faulkner