#and she just resigns to it because she thinks that maybe she deserves it

[lovelyamneris]

I have the absolute best idea for a walking dead fanfic I’m screaming crying and throwing up. God give me the strength to start writing fanfic again please please please

[lovesickeros]

Hiii just popping out to say thank you for feeding my sagau reader x furina brainroot by small interactions in "Even the Gods bleed." (Sorry if I wrote it incorrectly, I didn't get proper sleep.)

They way reader tugged at Furina's cheek— hell yeah your Grace I understand you.

i am always down to feed other furina enjoyers. at some point i need to give furi her own solo fic with reader but i know im gonna make it like triple the length of everything else..favoritism at its finest!! and proud of it. furina gets priority in everything.

[oldwritingm]

Sorry for my inconsistent posting schedule my darlings :(

Creepypasta/MH - The Moment They Knew They Loved You

Characters: Jeff the Killer, Nina the Killer, Jane the Killer, Tim/Masky, “Ticci” Toby

Jeff the Killer

It would’ve been a very long time after knowing you

Even if he was physically attracted to you, he wouldn’t consider that “love”

He usually judges people more on their character

That’s not so say he doesn’t enjoy calling people ugly if he thinks they’re ugly though

So you guys would’ve been vibing together for a while

He’d come away from each interaction with you just a little happier (or a lot happier), but he didn’t really notice it

That is, until he walks into a room one day and finds you relaxing, scrolling through your phone

He announces some unhinged plan, fully intending on carrying it out

You just look up at him for a second before (being used to his bs) just giving a thumbs-up and telling him to have fun

He blinked at you for a second, a grin coming to his lips slowly

He thinks to himself: you know, this is why I like them. They understand me.

And then he starts to think about all the reasons he likes you

He spends the rest of the night with your image in his head and a light feeling in his heart

It’s when he’s lying in bed, telling himself to stop thinking so he can sleep, that he finally realizes:

Oh. I’m in love, aren’t I?

He’s not mad about it; he’s more surprised than anything (at first at least… soon he’s ecstatic about it)

But he fully accepts his affection for you, and it won’t be long till he confesses ;)

Nina the Killer

She’s a pretty perky girl with a lot of emotions

Happiness, sadness, anger… she’s unapologetic in expressing everything, to the point that many call her “extra” or “weird”

It’s only for those people that she acts more reserved, and it’s more in an act of resentment than resignation (basically her saying “eff you loser, you don’t deserve me”)

So she only really likes people that she doesn’t have to act differently around

And of course you’re one of those people :)

She finds little things to like and hate about everyone in her life, and you’re no exception

So one night she just happens to be looking at a picture of you, and she gets to thinking

She smiles as she remembers good times with you: going to the mall, getting messy with baking or butchering, late night texting…

At length she decides that there’s a whole lot more to love than hate

And then she gets to thinking about your looks, and maybe she’s biased because she’s just decided that you’re delightful, but she feels a little heat come to her cheeks

She zooms in on the picture she’s looking at, admiring your features one at a time

She’s baffled that she hasn’t noticed how good-looking you are until now

And then the memories play again in her head, but this time her heart soars extra high…

She’s in love with you!!

She smacks a hand over her mouth when she realizes it, then breaks into a fit of giggles

Get ready for not-so-subtle hints and extra affection….

She’ll want you to figure it out before she actually confesses lol

Jane the Killer

I feel like she would’ve decided that she loved you pretty early on

Maybe even before interacting with you for the first time

She watched you (perhaps not entirely intentionally at first), and was at once enchanted by your looks and the way you carried yourself

You were like a magical creature of beauty to her

She didn’t dare disturb you in the beginning; she was content just watching

She was sure that her infatuation was purely aesthetic; you were just pretty, that was all there was to it

Except IT WASNT

One day she happened to actually interact with you

She was a little nervous, what with you being held so high in her head

But you absolutely floored her

The way you spoke, the way you saw her as a person…

You hooked her like a bass in a pond

She stood there breathless after your first interaction, watching you walk away with a racing heart

It was then that she knew this was much more than physical attraction

She HAD to have you, or at least try to

And trust me, she will try her hardest 😤

She’ll court you for a while first, just to see if you’re even interested

But if/when you are, she won’t be taking her time in confessing ;D

Tim/Masky

Methinks you’d have been friends for a while first

You went through a lot of things together: good times, bad times, silence, chaos…

And maybe you weren’t besties or anything, or super enthusiastic about each other (actually you’re probably a little cold to each other if anything, even if you do feel strongly attached)

But the point is that you have a history, and you know each other well

Plus there’s an unspoken bond that says you’ll have to tolerate each other for a long time (unspoken obligatory friendship moment)

Not that either of you minded

So one day you’re enjoying some silence together, relaxing out on a balcony and waiting for the dark clouds to pour rain

Your eyes are fixed on the sky, leaving your face in full view of the world

And, more importantly, Tim

He’s not sure why, but his gaze catches on your face

He starts admiring the little features: your eyes, the curve of your nose, the way your eyebrows are shaped…

He doesn’t decide that you’re beautiful. He decides that this is the face of someone he loves

It hits him like a truck—just a random thought out of nowhere:

This is the face of someone I love.

And while he’s taken aback at first, with a reddening face he realizes it’s true

He does love you!! All that you’ve been through together really meant something to him

He looks away bashfully, grumbling something when you ask if something’s up

Get ready for the long game…. This man will never confess

He’ll curse himself for even insinuating any feelings for you, so you’ll be left in the dark unless you’re REALLY good at picking up accidental gestures

“Ticci” Toby

He’d be so oblivious to his own feelings

He’d act super affectionate towards you, but only because he acts on impulse

He never stops to wonder why he gets the impulse to hug you or pinch you or say something not-so-mean (even NICE?! 🤯) when he’s around you

He doesn’t even notice that he only gets those impulses for you

So you’ll probably figure it out before him

And it’s only when you start to return that affection that he really starts to question

But again. He is SO OBLIVIOUS

It takes him a very long time to figure it out… you honestly might just have to spell it out for him

He can’t even take hints

I think that when he finally does figure it out, it’s a fleeting thought that catches for some reason

Like, he’s just daydreaming or something and suddenly he’s dreaming of dating you

And he thinks: hey, that wouldn’t be so bad. But it’s not like I like them like that. Wait…. Do I?

And then he’s just. Floored. Because HOW DID HE MISS IT FOR THAT LONG

Literally grips his hair like “WHAT!!!!”

Immediately runs to go yell at you tell you that he loves you

And you’re just like “oh I know. But thanks for finally confessing! <3”

Thank you so much for reading!! Take care my sweet duckies <33

(divider by saradika)

[starkenobi]

With Love | Natasha Romanoff x reader

masterlist — warnings: mcu; avenger!reader; fluff; acquaintances to lovers; flirty.

Summary: Were you reading it wrong the signs? You hope not, because you really want to be the one for Natasha Romanoff.

“You're staring.”

Natasha grumbled softly, pretending to have her attention completely focused on the book she had in her hands, and ignoring your watchful eyes. Lying on the carpet next to the couch, you watched the small shiver that took over her arms, knowing that it had such an effect gave you a feeling of butterflies in your stomach. Ignoring the reports you had to do, you placed the notebook on the coffee table and sat down so you could look at her better.

A small pout formed on Natasha's lips. “ Stop it, honey.”

You let out a grunt of protest. You never thought you would be in this kind of situation, that you would reach this level of intimacy with Natasha. But there you were, sprawled on the floor of Natasha's room, the weekend after your first long solo mission... Talking about relationships.

You had been invited by Steve to be part of the Avengers, having gained attention after saving children in a terrible explosion in a museum. That was two years ago. Initially, you didn't accept the invitation, deciding to only help when your presence was extremely necessary. You didn't have any great superpowers, just a wonderful memory that helped you to be able to imitate anything you saw, read or heard just once. It didn't take long for you to quit your civilian job and join the Avengers for good, increasingly bored with the calm dynamic, becoming unable to hold back the growing desire to make a difference.

"I just don't understand, okay? I'm outraged! You deserve the world! I can't believe those fucking exes treated you porly.”

Natasha sighed heavily, still pretending to read the book despite not having turned the page in the last few minutes. "Thank you for your support, but it's water under the bridge."

Closing the notebook for good, you pushed the device away as if it were her fault. You weren't at all pleased to see the resignation on Natasha's face; if it were anyone else, you would even think it was just an act, but you could notice the tips of her ears starting to take on a red tone.

Frowning, you crawled to her feet and rested your hands on her knees, finally managing to make her look up from the book. “Tasha, there’s no way you’re just going to accept this.”

She slammed the book shut, throwing it across the couch, and glared at you. “What do you want me to say? I’m tired of wondering if there’s something wrong with me!”

Your eyes widened, completely surprised by her outburst. Maybe the topic was really sensitive, but you couldn’t back down now. After all these months, the coffee invitations and offers to help with small everyday things outside of missions, the affection and smiles, the long conversations… It was a sign, right? So, swallowing hard, you gathered the courage to say out loud what you wanted to say since the first day you saw her.

“Let me eat you out.”

Natasha gave you a small slap on the shoulder in reprimand, making you lose your balance. “Hey!”

“Come on, I'm serious!” You said as you felt the need to defend yourself, hating the idea that she thought it was a joke. You looked at Natasha as seriously as possible, even though she tried to avoid your eyes. “I’ll always give you the orgasm you deserve, without asking for anything in return.”

Natasha's ears got even redder and her cheekbones too, but you couldn't tell if it was discomfort or just embarrassment. Natasha opened and closed her mouth a few times, for a moment she seemed to not know what to say, she finally took a deep breath - as if gathering courage - but the moment was interrupted by knocks on the door.

“Oh, it must be Steve and Bucky wanting to plan in advance the next mission we're going.” Natasha said, moving away quickly and stopping only when she reached the door, giving you a strange look before commenting quietly. “I think you better go.”

You felt the butterflies in your stomach wilt. You didn't dare say anything else, quickly gathering your things and shoving them into your backpack. With your trembling hands, you hoped that at least your face was neutral enough and tried to smile at the super soldiers who seemed surprised to see you there. Ignoring them exchanging silent glances with Natasha, you said goodbye without much flourish, avoiding looking Natasha in the eyes. And you left without waiting for an answer. When you got out of the elevator, you mentally thanked yourself for not bumping into anyone, and for Friday not reacting at all after being the only witness to your pathetic crying.

Your head was heavy, the days passing by in the blink of an eye, but you felt completely numb. It seemed that Natasha had been avoiding you since that weekend, you could never run into her alone like you used to. Always accompanied by someone from the team, she seemed to be always running around and completely busy. You couldn't stop thinking that, maybe, you had really misinterpreted everything, that the feeling was one-sided. Of course you wouldn't blame her. If it were really true that you had misunderstood everything, you would like to be able to apologize. But you couldn't deny that the rejection still hurt, even if it was done silently.

"Are you crazy? Of course she's going to run away from you, this is not a topic to talk about at work." Kate interrupted you, an expression of outrage on her face.

Yelena rolled her eyes at her girlfriend's reaction. "I think it's better if you visit her this weekend, at her apartment."

Kate stared at her in disbelief. "Without an invitation?"

“The worst that could happen is Natasha pretending she wasn't home, or closing the door in her face.” Yelena shrugged, turning her attention back to the coffee.

So that's what you did, with a box of chocolates and a bouquet of roses in your hands. Knocking on the door a few times, at the rhythm that she would know it was you. Your heart was pounding so hard, it felt like it was going to come out of your mouth. It was a cool spring Saturday, but you felt as hot as if you were in a sauna. You were completely nervous, but everything disappeared when Natasha opened the door.

“I was going to text you now.” She said with a smile, opening the door wider so you could enter.

Taking a few steps to the living room, you turned to hand over the gifts. Lowering your head, not daring to look into her eyes and see the possible rejection. “I'm sorry for the last time, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I read the signs wrong, I hope we can still be friends.”

“You didn't do anything wrong.” Natasha sighed, placing the chocolate and the bouquet on the counter, and then walking over to where you were. “I just thought I was misreading the signs, that you were just playing around like you do with Stark.”

You felt your body relax, your heart beating fast, but for a good reason, you couldn't help but smile as you looked back at her. “So it's okay if I admit that I've always wanted to go down on you? With love, of course.”

Natasha snorted, and you couldn't help yourself and ended up laughing, loving her reaction. Teasing her was one of your new favorite things, especially with a vocabulary worthy of cheap porn. However, you needed to keep a bit of seriousness for now, so you carefully held her hands and brought them to your lips to place a kiss.

“You're impossible.” She complained, but with a smile on her lips.

“Forgive me? I know I should have asked you out on a date before telling you that I want to kiss every part of your body.” you said, bringing one of your hands to her face, and when she tilted her head towards the caress, you felt your heart skip a beat and your stomach explode with butterflies.

Closing her eyes, she murmured. “Dinner at that new restaurant near here? I demand pampering.”

You couldn't stop smiling, so much joy. Unable to contain yourself, you ended up leaning in to place a kiss on Natasha's cheek and then a small kiss on her lips. “Anything my princess wants.”

You would do everything to make it work, to make her happy. And who knows, maybe in the near future you could officially call her your girlfriend. But for now, a first date with her was enough.

comments, likes and reblogs are welcome and appreciated! thank you for reading and supporting my writing 💜

[cressidagrey]

You are the best thing that's ever been mine - Part 5

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Ariel Cane (Original Character)

Summary: Sao Paulo 2024. The Dutchman delivered a defining drive…but maybe there is a relationship that could also use some defining. 

Warnings: Jos Verstappen, angst, crying, mention of pregnancy, mention of sex and sexual acts, physical confrontation

Author Notes: Hi, hey, hello! Apparently I write F1 Fanfiction now?! Also this is the first time I am trying a social media au so my Canva Skills were put to the test. (Disclaimer: I kinda put legibility over authencity, so twitter doesn't look like twitter and messages looks like...something) Also huge thanks to @onebigfangirlworld and @leodette for holding my hand with this 😘)

“There are two more things we need to talk about,” Gemma said carefully.

She didn’t want to talk about more. Quite frankly, all Ariel wanted was to hug Max tightly. He had this unreadable expression on his face that told her that a storm was raging inside him, something they had only scratched the surface off. 

She had never wanted to make him choose between her and his father…but this was what had happened regardless. 

Hadn’t this been enough?

“First of all, do you want to give out a statement?” Gemma asked Max.

Max's expression darkened at the question, his jaw clenching a little. ”I don’t think it’s a question of what I want,” Max gave back. 

She agreed. 

Whatever Max said would be all over the media in no time…but saying nothing at all…wouldn’t go over well. The media would spin it into something worse. 

Max would look like he didn't care, like he was trying to hide something, even when she knew the truth. 

He sighed in irritation. "What do you suggest?" he asked Gemma. 

Gemma seemed to understand his hesitation and frustration. 

She sat up a little straighter in her seat, her expression professional.

“The press will know if you try to bullshit them,” she said drily. “Go with the truth. It was a completely inappropriate incident. And you ask for privacy at this time. Nothing too concrete.”

Max let out an annoyed huff, but nodded slowly.

"Yeah, let's go with that," he said in a resigned tone. "The last thing we need is the media speculating and starting another rumor."

Ariel sat quietly, still leaning against Max's chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

She could hear the irritation in his voice, could feel the tension in him as he talked to Gemma about their next course of action.

She couldn't help but feel guilty that he was in this situation because of her. Because of what had happened earlier. She hated that he had to be dealing with this mess instead of enjoying the win he deserved.

“They are still running with the pregnancy…speculation,” Gemma said. “I need to know…Is it true? Is Ariel pregnant?”

This whole pregnancy question was a ridiculous thing to ask, but she understood why Gemma had brought it up.

She was trying to cover all the bases, to make sure that there weren't any unexpected surprises that could make the media circus even bigger.

“Nope,” Azriel said drily popping the p. 

“Are you…sure?” Gemma pressed carefully. 

Ariel suppressed a snort at Gemma's skeptical look. "I'm absolutely sure," she confirmed, her tone firm. She could sense the disbelief in Gemma's question, and she couldn't help but add with a hint of humor, "I've been celibate for the past year, so there's absolutely no chance that I'm pregnant. None whatsoever."

Now Gemma stared at her like she was insane. 

“You want to tell me that the two of you haven’t…” Gemma said carefully.

“Gemma, for fuck’s sake, we haven’t even kissed!” Max snapped. Ariel couldn't help but laugh softly at Max's blunt response.

She could see the skepticism on Gemma's face, the disbelief that she still wasn't fully convinced. And she couldn't help but smirk a little.

“Just for the record, we figured things out 3 hours ago,” Max said drily.

Ariel had to suppress a laugh at Max's dry statement.

Three hours.

They had figured things out and confessed their feelings for each other, and here they were, dealing with the media fallout and questions about pregnancies.

She couldn't help but find the whole situation slightly absurd and amusing. It was just a perfect example of how ridiculous the media could be sometimes. 

One minute, they were obsessed with every little detail of her relationship with Max, and the next, they were asking if she was pregnant, even though they hadn't even had sex yet.

Ariel felt Max's arm tighten around her a little, and she knew he was probably thinking the same thing.But amidst all the absurdity and the media frenzy, one thing was clear to her.

She and Max had finally taken that crucial step, confessed their feelings to each other.

She felt warm, safe, and loved in his embrace. He was her rock, her pillar of strength.

She didn't care about the media, about their questions or speculations. Not when she had Max by her side.

Ariel leaned into his chest a little more, her body fitting perfectly in his arms. She could feel the warmth of his chest against her side, could hear his steady heartbeat.

Ariel knew they were in for a bumpy ride, especially with the media. They would be all over them, asking questions and speculating about every little detail.

But she didn't care. As long as she had Max, as long as they were together, they could weather any storm.

She felt Max's hand move, gently caressing her shoulder, his touch sending a shiver down her spine. She looked up at him, a small, tender smile playing on her lips.

Despite the chaos and the uncertainty of the situation, she felt a sense of calmness and peace. She knew that no matter what happened next, they would face it together. They were in this together now, no going back.

“...finally,” Gemma breathed.

Ariel chuckled at Gemma's relieved sigh.

"Finally indeed," she echoed in agreement.

She looked up at Max, his arm still wrapped around her. He seemed a little more relaxed too, his body less tense than before.

"Took us long enough, hm?" Max teased with a wry grin.

Ariel couldn't help but roll her eyes playfully at his comment.

"Is it serious?" Gemma asked carefully.

"As serious as can be," Max replied immediately, his tone firm and resolute.

Ariel knew that Max didn't do anything halfway, he was all-in when he committed himself to something. And when he said 'as serious as can be', he meant it wholeheartedly.

And still…she could feel a little shiver run through her at his words. 

She knew Max meant every word he was saying.  He was all in, and he was serious about them being together.

There was a certain charm in Max's blunt and decisive nature.

He wasn't one to sugarcoat things or beat around the bush.

He meant what he said, and he said what he meant.  And when he said that he was serious about them, he meant it. 

There was no room for speculation, no room for doubts.

And Ariel loved that about him. 

She trusted him blindly. 

"We've been dancing around each other for ages, and I'm done wasting any more time," Max stated firmly.

Ariel could hear the determination and certainty in his voice.

He meant it, he was done playing around.

Ariel felt her heart skip a beat at Max's declaration, her stomach fluttering with excitement and anticipation.

It was the last push she needed, the final confirmation that she wasn't the only one feeling this way.

Max was all in, and he was serious about them.

She felt a surge of happiness and relief wash over her, the truth of his words sinking in. They were doing this, they were really doing it.

She leaned into him, her body pressing against his, seeking his warmth and comfort.

Ariel could feel the firmness of his chest against her, his arms strong and protective, holding her close to him.

"I am happy for you both, but this does complicate things," Gemma said carefully. "The fact that he is your boss..."

"She works with me, not for me," Max cut her off.

Ariel suppressed a smile at Max's quick correction.

She felt a warm flutter in her chest as he spoke up to the defense, setting the record straight instantly.

And to be honest, she couldn't help but find it just a little bit hot, how he was so quick to correct Gemma, how he was always so quick to stand up for her.

“You are the ones paying her salary,” Gemma correcte him drily. 

"We haven't let our relationship interfere with our professional lives before, we won't start with it now," Max continued. "And yes, I do pay her salary. Which means she works for me and not for Re Bull. So I don't really care what you have to say about this, she doesn't fall under company policy."Ariel felt a surge of pride and affection for Max as he spoke.

His words were firm and determined, leaving no room for arguments.

And hearing him defend her, hearing the certainty in his voice…Ariel looked up at him, admiring the strength and resolve in his eyes.

She knew he would always have her back, always stand up for her.

"We've been able to separate our personal relationship from our work," he continued, his voice steady and unwavering. "We've always been professional and respectful in the workplace, and that's not going to change."

He paused for a moment, his gaze shifting to Ariel, his expression softening ever so slightly.

"We know how to work together effectively, without letting our personal feelings interfere,” he continued, his voice firm yet caring. 

“I agree,” Ariel said calmly. “We can manage. We always have.”

“I can already see, it doesn’t matter what I say,” Gemma said with some amusement.”

“No,” Max agreed flatly. 

“What else?” Ariel asked with a grimace. 

Gemma let out a long sigh, her expression becoming a little more serious. She ran a hand through his hair, clearly contemplating how to phrase the second matter.

"Have you checked social media yet?" she asked with a grimace

Ariel's stomach immediately dropped at the question, a sense of foreboding creeping up inside her.

She had a feeling she knew where this was heading, and she already didn't like it.

"Do I actually want to know what happened?" Max asked drily.

"Well, the press thought that whatever happened between Ariel and your father was much more interesting than actually asking the other drivers about the race...and they mad had a few...thoughts on that?"

Oh god. 

"I think you'll want to see this?" Gemma said, as she handed over her tablet.

It was a clip of Pierre Gasly, clearly taking at the after race press interview, with the interviewer posing the question: "Do you happen to know if Max Verstappen is in a romantic relationship with Ariel Cane?" And Pierre actually answered, "Not as far as I know...but if they do become a couple in the next few weeks, I would win the bet, so if they could get on that, that would be great!"

"What bet?" Ariel asked weakly as she watched the clip run out.

She could already see where this was going. And she didn’t like it. 

Were the other drivers betting on her relationship with Max?

"Who exactly took part in that bet?" Max asked, his voice fierce.

"...The whole grid?" Gemma answered with a grimace. "Apparently there is a whole betting pool according to Lando Norris?"

Ariel couldn't believe her ears.

The whole grid? Seriously?

She felt a mix of anger and incredulity at the revelation. Everyone, literally everyone on the grid, had been betting on her and Max getting together?

"This is ridiculous," she grumbled, her irritation reaching a boiling point.

The media and now the other drivers, all speculating about her and Max like they had nothing better to do.

She could feel Max's annoyance radiating off of him, and she knew he was just as fed up with this nonsense as she was.

"I can't believe they're all betting on our personal lives," she continued, her frustration growing with each word.

She could understand that the media loved to pry and speculate, but for the other drivers to also partake in this absurd gossipmongering... it was simply infuriating.

"Have they got nothing better to do than speculate about what's going on between us?" Max growled. 

"And to think that even the other drivers are placing bets on us," Ariel said, her tone filled with disbelief.

It was one thing if the media was gossiping, but for the drivers to be involved in this ridiculous betting pool... it just seemed so juvenile.

"I mean, what is this, high school?" Max huffed, his irritation evident in his voice.

He was clearly as fed up with this whole situation as she was.

She couldn't believe that the other drivers had nothing better to do than bet on her and Max's relationship status.

"Also Lando Norris is apparently worried that he won't get Christmas Cookies from you this year?" Gemma continued with a grimace.

Ariel almost burst out laughing at the news about Lando Norris.

Was he seriously concerned about not getting her Christmas cookies?

"Lando is worried about the cookies?" she repeated, a mixture of amusement and disbelief in her voice.

She couldn't help but find it a bit ridiculous that the most pressing issue on Lando's mind was whether he'd be receiving her Christmas cookies or not.

"Seriously, that's what he's concerned about?" Max chimed in, his tone filled with a mix of irritation and amusement.

He seemed just as flabbergasted as she was that Lando was more worried about the cookies than anything else.

"I mean, I'm flattered that he enjoys my cookies so much," Ariel said, trying to keep a straight face.

She was finding this whole situation more and more absurd by the minute. It was like they were in some kind of soap opera or something.

"But the fact that he's more concerned about missing out on a batch of my cookies than anything else is just... I don't even know what to say," she continued, shaking her head in disbelief.

It was ridiculous, but also kind of endearing in a way. She couldn't help but find Lando's preoccupation with her cookies just a bit adorable.

"I swear, the drivers these days have their priorities all mixed up," Max chimed in, a hint of mock irritation in his voice.

He was trying his best to maintain a stern expression, but Ariel could tell he was secretly amused by Lando's obsession with her cookies.

"One minute, they're focused on the race, and the next, they're worried about the possibility of missing out on some homemade treats and having betting pools about my private life," Max continued, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Gemma let out a sigh, rubbing her hands together nervously.

It seemed like there was still more.

Ariel could feel her irritation rising once again as she prepared herself for more ridiculous gossip and speculation.

"Anything else?" Max asked clippedly.

"Charles Leclerc may have said that it was obvious that the two of you were in love?" Gemma offered. 

Ariel nearly choked on her own spit. 

She glanced at Max, seeing how his jaw was clenched tightly, his irritation evident.

Ariel couldn't help but roll her eyes.

Seriously? Charles Leclerc was now an expert on her and Max's relationship?

"Max. Charles and I are going to have an inchident the next time we meet," she said, as she closed her eyes.

Max chuckled, a hint of amusement in his voice. "We need him in one piece for the next race, you know," Max said, a hint of humor in his voice. “So go easy on him please.”

"Anything else?" Ariel asked nearly begging. Please let that be all?

"I think that's it," Gemma said quickly, as she gathered herthings to leave. 

Ariel let out a sigh of relief, glad that the barrage of ridiculous gossip seemed to be over.

She sank back into the sofa and against Max, feeling a mixture of exhaustion and irritation.

Ariel was so tired of the media and the drivers prying into her personal relationship with Max.

"You know what, I'll deal with them tomorrow," she said with a sigh.

Max gave her a hum of understanding, his expression sympathetic.

"And Lando is not getting any christmas cookies any time soon," she muttered, making Max laugh.

"We both know that you don't hold a grudge that long," he teased her.

Ariel shot Max a mock glare, but she couldn't help but smile at his comment.

He knew her too well.

"Shut up," she muttered, shoving him playfully with her shoulder.

She tried to maintain a stern expression, but she couldn't help but feel a hint of amusement in spite of herself.

She looked at Max, giving him a weary smile.

"I swear, it's like the whole world has nothing better to do than gossip about us," Ariel muttered, her frustration still evident in her voice.

She shook her head, still finding it hard to believe that the other drivers had been betting on their relationship status.

Max chuckled darkly, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Well, they're all bored and have nothing better to focus on," he said dryly.

"I swear, the next time I see Lando, I'm gonna smack him upside the head," Ariel grumbled.

She was still irritated at Lando's statement about missing out on her Christmas cookies.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Max said softly. “You are threatening violence, so you need sleep.”

He was probably right about that. 

She was tired, both mentally and physically, and she knew that a good night's sleep would do her some good.

Ariel got up from her chair, stretching her arms slightly.

"Yeah," she agreed, her voice soft. "Bed sounds good right now.Will you…keep me company?” She asked him, biting her lip.

She wasn’t sure why this was making her nervous…

Maybe because they had never actually share a bed before… but Max smiled at her, his eyes softening at her request.

"Of course I will," he replied softly. His voice was warm and reassuring, filled with unspoken affection.”You still owe me cuddles after all,“ he teased her and she snorted.

Ariel did snap a picture of the saltines and ginger ale on the bedside table as she connected the phone to her charger. While she didn’t theoretically fall under the purview of Gemma, she still send off a quick text about the instagram post she wrote, not wanting to stub any toes. Ariel was not going to let that ridiculous pregnancy speculation go on any longer. 

 She also texted Emma, not wanting her sister to be worried.

And then she slid under the high thread count sheets and glomped onto Max. 

Max just laughed softly as he felt her snuggle up against him, her body molding perfectly against his.

He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close, and she relished in the feeling of her head resting against his chest.

He nuzzled his face against her hair, taking a deep breath, inhaling her scent.

Ariel still couldn’t quite believe this. Not really. It felt utterly and completely…magical.

But here she was, curled up with Max in his bed, one hand of his gently tracing her spine and him pressing kisses to her hair.

“Did you…did you mean what you said?” Ariel asked him hesitantly.

“What?” Max wondered.

“That I am the woman you…you love,” she answered weakly. Did he mean that or had it just been the heat of the moment or… Max stopped his caresses for a moment, sensing the uncertainty in her voice.

He pulled back slightly, looking down at her, his eyes meeting hers.

His expression was gentle, filled with warmth and sincerity.

“Of course I meant it, Schatje” he said quietly, his voice soft and reassuring.

He reached one hand up, gently stroking her cheek.

“You’re the woman I love, Ariel,” he repeated firmly, as if trying to hammer the point home.She couldn’t believe it. It was jsut…

It was everything she had ever wanted right there for her taking.

“Good,” she whispered. “Because we really took long enough and I love you too.”Max's expression softened as he heard her words, a slow smile spreading across his face.

He couldn't help but feel a wave of relief wash over him as she confirmed her feelings for him.

He pulled her closer, holding her tightly against him.

"We really did take long enough, didn't we?" he murmured, his voice filled with amused affection.

He ran his fingers gently through her hair, his touch gentle and tender.“Only five years,” she joked.

Max chuckled, shaking his head slightly.

"Right," he said with a grin. "Only five short years."

He pretended to sound annoyed, but the amused sparkle in his eyes betrayed his true feelings.

He pulled her even closer, their bodies now pressed fully against each other.

"We really are idiots, aren't we?" he teased, his lips grazing her forehead.She hummed her agreement, tipping up her face.

“Don’t make me ask,” she requested softly.Max chuckled softly, sensing her unspoken plea.

He knew exactly what she wanted, and he was more than happy to oblige.

He cupped her chin gently, tilting her face up towards his.

"You don't have to ask," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

Without further ado, he lowered his head and captured her lips in a soft, tender kiss.

Ariel melted into the kiss, her body molding against Max's.

[kheta]

2 for 1 Genres

Thriller-Mystery: Young Justice is missing. They've been missing for two months and no one noticed. The League is devastated and panicked as multiple members try and look for their proteges and family members. The BatFam are enraged and feel stupid to have not noticed Tim was missing sooner, angry that they didn't check in sooner. The Arrows are walking a tightrope, not knowing how much they can do to help without compromising Cissie's strong boundaries, but also unwilling to step-back from rescuing one of their own, even if she's been distant for years at this stage. The Flashes are resigned to Bart disappearing, though the rest of yj being missing is definitely heightening their anxiety. Superman is quietly guilty for not noticing Kon's absence as abnormal, while Jon is giving his dad the silent treatment because he knew something was up and is mad that Clark didn't believe him and mad that he didn't look into it anyway. Wonder Woman is upset that she hadn't realised Cassie had vanished, but has quiet faith that the team will manage to survive until the League manages to find them. It's a desperate push against the clock as the mentors juggle their everyday disasters with their efforts to look for the team, especially because all of these mentors are also maybe 100% going to butt heads as they play the blame game, struggling to reconcile their guilt when the mission is a lot more personal, with no clear cut villain to blame. Comedic-Hi-jinks: Meanwhile, the YJ crew have all been kidnapped. Kidnapped by a bored and lonely Bart Allen, who was sick of all the failed reunion plans and jealous of the fact that literally everyone got to spend time with each other except him. (no, going to see them one on one doesn't count guys! their a team, a family, they deserve more than just occasional face-times and drop-ins) Honestly the little pocket dimension they ended up in was surprisingly neat and child-friendly, so Anita's not too mad at being kidnapped. There's even some small fry's she gets to deal with and a hand picked group of perfectly available baby-sitters who she trusts with her life, all on hand, unable to say no when she leaves her not-parents in their care. Cissie's a little worried because she definitely has some work things to look after, but this mini vacays actually been a good time to unwind, even if she was a bit mad that Bart gave her no time to prep and Tim gave her absolutely no heads up. And despite his arguments, she knows Tim had expected this to happen. Bart was way too put together after getting Tim, no bruises, no scolding and no glitter bombs in sight. Kon, Tim and Cassie meanwhile are just vibing, brains off as they meander through this little pocket dimension. Nothing was gonna stop Bart from doing this and at least he's relented to a three day adventure instead of the week long one he had initially planned. Greta is a little worried, because things are going surprisingly well on this little excursion and that's way too weird, but she loves being with her friends again, so she's really hoping the worry is unwarranted. Bart feels like he's forgotten something, but for the life of him he can't think of what he may have forgotten. He has his friends, he found the perfect, most harmless pocket dimension and he even remembered to set the YJ code to show they had gone out on a mission. (Bart definitely forgot to do the time math. He was going to do it, honest! He just got a bit too excited. And maybe a bit too annoyed at Cissie hogging Greta and Cassie's time. But only very slightly annoyed.)

[babyangelsky]

I know we're all still sweating over the first half of this episode (or I am at least) but since I'm feeling chatty today, I really wanna talk about Mut and Tongrak's conversation at the restaurant and how much I loved it. There are so many little moments that deserve appreciation and recognition.

This is the first one. When the auntie comes over to sing Mut's praises, he doesn't look at her or at Tongrak, he just ducks his head. From what she says, we can gather that this isn't the first time he's brushed off compliments so it isn't that he's not used to praise. I think there's a little more to it.

And look at Tongrak's expression after the auntie leaves.

And the way he looks at Mut afterward. There's fondness there. There's respect and admiration. We've had small moments before this where the way Tongrak looks at Mut changes but this feels like the first time he really sees him. He's getting a clearer picture of who Mut is and what he means to the people in the village.

And it's because of that that he looks genuinely surprised and a little shocked when Mut reveals that his father kicked him out at 15. You can almost hear him asking himself, "how could anyone ever do that to this man?"

Mut talks about how he went to live with his aunt and started supporting himself relatively casually but there's a faraway look in his eyes when Tongrak asks why he doesn't go home.

And he looks down because despite his tone, it hurts to remember why he can't go home. It makes him sad to remember why he considers the fishing boat only his father's instead of theirs, as a family.

There's a defiance in his expression when he says that his father never takes back what he says and neither does he, and there was something about this specific wording and look that made me think that the reason his father kicked him out has to do with him being queer.

I have not read the novel (nor am I asking for spoilers) so I could be very wrong but this moment just read so queer to me. It unfortunately wouldn't be unheard of for a parent to kick out their queer child and for that child to cut ties with them because of it.

The shift in expression when Mut asks Tongrak if he thinks he's pitiful is so tiny but it's so significant. It's like he's daring Tongrak to pity him and resigned to it simultaneously, like pity is a foregone conclusion. It tells me that Mut is used to being pitied. He says himself moments before this that Tongrak could ask anyone on the island for his story so I'm sure there's no shortage of people who do pity him.

Maybe that's why he reacts the way he does when the auntie praises him. Maybe for him it's rare to be praised for his successes without having it be qualified or run through the filter of his personal history.

Even before Tongrak said a word in response, I knew what his answer was going to be. There's sympathy (and maybe even some empathy) in his expression. There's a sort of...I don't know how to describe it. Defiant kinship? that says, "why would I pity you?"

He shakes his head and gives a firm, decisive no. He doesn't pity Mut. He may not say it, but his face says that he's very quickly growing to admire and respect the person Mut has made of himself.

Of course he doesn't pity Mut. And hearing it makes Mut smile. A true, genuine smile that reaches his sparkly eyes and softens just a little bit when he says thank you.

This conversation felt like such a big shift for them. I have no doubt they're going to continue to bicker and annoy each other and piss each other off but from here on I think and hope there's going to be an undercurrent of understanding to it.

Tongrak is open to learning more about Mut and although Tongrak isn't willing to reveal too much of himself yet, the desire to learn more is there on Mut's part, too. He's not gonna push though. He accepts Tongrak's answer of why he became a writer being only for the fun of it.

And he does what no one else has before and praises Tongrak for it.

Which Tongrak was not expecting at all because why would he when no one has ever complimented him before? For Mut to be the first means a lot, and so does the fact that Tongrak compliments him right back.

Because I really do think that his compliment is coming from a place not only of respect, but from solidarity as well. We know that Tongrak doesn't want the people in the village to think badly of Mut for being affectionate with a man in public, and that moment also read very queer to me.

Queer people are like magnets and, in my experience at least, not only are we drawn to each other, we look out for each other. Tongrak doesn't give a damn what people think or say about him both because he's secure in who he is and because he's only a tourist, but Mut lives there. Despite his snark and snippiness, I don't think he wants Mut to have a hard time existing in his home.

Anyway! Those are just my few cents for this episode. This scene really stuck out to me and I wanted to talk about it because the whole time I was just:

Fort and Peat did some beautifully subtle acting and I didn't want it to get lost in the horny shuffle.

[thechekhov]

Dungeon Meshi Quick Reacts: CH38

Rip to these promising mages. I assume they will not survive this massacre.

IS that where her lungs and kidneys are? Because like. She's huge. Her entire body is behind her. Do you really think she'd keep her vital organs in the little human bulb on the front?

I mean, he has a point. What are you going to do? Fight off more hoardes of dragons?

oh noooo, Kabru.... too bad. That's so unfortunate.... anyway.

It's curious that Laios only got knocked away. He was just as likely to have had his head squished like a grape.

Guys, this is absolutely not the time to be concerned for her privacy.

Yes, queen. Free the tiddy. Murder everyone in this dungeon. I support women's rights and women's wrongs.

.......that's. One way to do that. I guess.

.......what's that rock about.

Oh, I see. That's convenient.

This guy dungeons! Maybe he even dragons.

So we got north (tallmen? dwarves?) and then the easterners.... and now the elves of the west?

He's going to give her to the Americans?! ಠ_ಠ

To be fair, at least they HAD a plan. And they executed it. It's more than you did. I don't mean to point fingers but... at least they... ya know... did something.

Kabru's like 'no, no, hang on, I need to hear what batshit fucked up thing this dude is going to say next, this is important'

Laios is so stressed he broke character.

Then again, maybe it's healthy to let them slug it out a bit. Get it out of their system.

It's true. They wore fitbits and everything.

...hey, hold on a second.

Now hold on a minute.

Damn, this is. Kind of even worse because. I guess I could have guessed that Toshi was just pretending to be polite, like you do. Cultural differences.

But the painful thing is, Laios doesn't seem surprised. He just seems resigned. He's been told before that he's difficult to get along with. To the extent that he doesn't even consider Marcille and Chillchuck his friends? Even though they arguably both care about him? But because Toshiro didn't bother to be deadpan about him being a bit odd at times, Laios thought it meant that was fine.

And that kinda hurts. Like damn. Laios just wanted to make a true connection. And I can't really blame Toshiro either, he was just trying to keep the peace but. Damn.

Free her! Let her do her illegal magics! She deserves it! （︶^︶）

Thoughts:

Senshi just being annoyed about that one last harpy looking for scraps.... like "shoo, this ain't the time"

That gnome seems genuinely nice. I'm sorry Falin squished his pet undyne.

Kabru hugging his..... mage? Girlfriend???? Seems very...one sided. Kinda feel bad for her.

Laios and Toshiro still going at it, I see. Get it allout, boys.

Uhhhhhhhhhh ninja girls.

Aww, doggo.

Last question: Where did the cat go?

Senshi: I can fix that.

Are you all worried because he's finally making sense?!?!

Laios and he punched their singular braincells into several new ones, it seems.

F./....Falin... please give the caterpillar some privacy........

My man, maybe lead with that............

I can't believe Marcille was potentially more forward about her feelings.......

"his pupils are dilated" yes, thank you sherlock. You've finally realized what everyone else who meets Laios feels almost immediately. he's a monster freak club card carrying member. Welcome.

p.....pubby......

As long as he was also inside the dungeon with them.... yes.

The issue with Kabru isn't that he isn't trying his best. It's that Laios isn't trying at all.

On a scale of one to Kabru, how badly do you react to being offered a food you don't want to eat?

......oh no. He's so pathetic it's funny. He's growing on me.

Absolute morons, the pair of them. Immovable object meets unstoppable force. The funniest combination ever. Ghost type and normal type pokemon, forever throwing moves at each other that will never hit. Laios thinking he's made a friend. Kabru just barely stopping himself from killing Laios. Best comedy pair. Tom and Jerry in a can.

Anyway. What a great manga.

[kaliforniahigh]

https://www.tumblr.com/kaliforniahigh/756103606724378624/nsfw-under-the-cut-read-at-your-own-risk-so-i?source=share

What a tease 🥵

I'm gonna need a short story about each version of Noah. Please? 🥹

We can start with type number one, shall we? Moustache!Noah and PussyMaster!Noah below!!!

Warnings: smoking pot (I know he doesn't smoke anymore), smut, they talk about sex, spit kink.

Not proofread!

He asks you to come over for the night, tells you to pack an overnight bag and that he would be picking you up in an hour. After that, he takes you to a weed dispensary so you can choose whatever you're going to be smoking for the night.

You always found these nights with Noah to be incredibly fun and insightful. You guys talked about whatever, watched some anime or a movie and ordered his preferred take out. It was always like this, you pick the weed, he picks the food.

These past couple of weeks though, you've felt a shift in your dynamic. You found yourselves talking about more personal and intimate matters. Like how you liked things and past flings and relationships. Like right now, you were sitting on his couch, passing a blunt back and forth.

"I don't think I could ever call a man daddy in bed, honestly", you said as you took a puff and passed it to him.

"I'm glad you said that, because one time a girl called me daddy and I swear my dick stopped working for a minute"

"Well, what did you do? Did you tell her? I feel like she would've noticed that you didn't like it though", you wondered, you could feel the second-hand embarrassment for this girl you didn't even know.

"No, I didn't tell her, but I could tell she noticed by the way she never texted me after that time", you covered your face and laughed at this, leaning your head on the back of the couch. "Yeah, laugh it up at my misery. You gonna tell me something like this never happened to you?"

"I mean, yeah, but I rather laugh at you than at me", he lightly slapped your arm but laughed along with you, "c'mon, you're hogging the blunt, don't be one of those people"

"I will pass it to you if you tell me one of your embarrassing stories", he looked at you with a side eye, but you relented.

"Ok, so one time there was this guy who though he was really good at, you know", you made a general motion to your crotch area, but he gave you a questioning look.

"No, I don't know, you'll have to be more specific", you groaned, suddenly feeling shy about this.

"He thought he was really good at eating pussy"

"Ooooh, I see. I like where this is going", he said with a teasing tone.

"Yeah, I bet you do. Anyway, he thought he was really good, but his tongue was just so stiff and his fingers kept missing my clit. So after ten minutes of this I had to fake an orgasm to pull him out of his misery. Thing is, the moan I let out was totally fake I felt like it was so obvious", this time was his turn to laugh, finally passing the blunt to you.

"I mean, the man coudn't make you cum, I feel like he deserved it". he said, matter-of-factly "if it was up to me, no woman would ever fake an orgasm in her life"

"Oh, ok, pussy master, don't tell me you made every woman you've ever been with cum with just your mouth and fingers", maybe it was because you always had subpar experiences with guys, but you felt like this was a far-fetched ideia. No one is ever this good at eating pussy.

He laughed at the nickname, but replied "I never had complaints, besides, I'm pretty sure I was born for this, it's pretty much a talent"

"Well, then I need to find someone with this kind of talent", he sensed the resignation on your voice, and he couldn't help the words that fell out of his mouth next.

"Well, I'm right here. Wouldn't exactly have to look", you looked at him with suspicion, but he looked at you with a stare that told you he was sure about this, you just had to tell him you want it too.

"Ok, let's say we were to do this, how would we even began?", he asked for the blunt that was on your hands and put it out on the ashtray beside him.

"You can start by getting on my lap", he followed his words with a spread of his legs, you complied and asked "what next?"

He grabbed the back of your head, pressing your foreheads together. "You're sure about this? You're not going along just because I suggested it, right?", he could tell he was sincere, and if you weren't already turned on just by sitting on his lap, this would've done the trick.

"Oh, no, I really wanna find out more about this talent of yours", as soon as you said this, his lips were on yours, it started chaste but it soon turned heated, his tongue slipping into your mouth and devouring you.

One of his hands started to make their way over your body, along the valley of your breasts, down your stomach, finally settling on the place you wanted him the most.

He started with gentle movements, circling you over your sweatpants. You separated your mouths just to let out a silent moan, your mouth forming an "O" shape. You could feel him staring at you intensely.

After a few minutes of this, you started to move your hips, urging him to pick up his pace. It was then that he grabbed you by the waist, laying you down on the couch and removing your pants and underwear in a hurry.

You didn't have to ask him to do anything, didn't have to tell him where to put his mouth or how fast or slow you wanted it. He seemed to now just how you liked it. You could hear the sounds of his mouth on you, an indicator of how wet you were.

That is why it took you by surprise when he replaced his mouth with his fingers, and from a distance, you saw a string of spit, coming out of his mouth and landing right on your pussy, you eyes locking with his, he gave a lopsided smirk, obviously knowing the affect he had on you. The sight alone made you moan out loud, your pleasure intensifying by a thousand.

He kept working his fingers, mixing his spit with your arousal. He could tell you were close as he put his mouth back on you. Not long after, you felt the dam break, pleasure and relief wasing over you as your thighs shook and you couldn't contain the sound spilling from your mouth.

He didn't stop until you physically pushed his head away, moving up your body, he grabbed your chin with one of his hands, "open your mouth, baby girl", you did as you were told, putting your tongue out to catch the string of saliva leaving his lips. You could taste him and yourself together and that turned you right back on.

"So, what is your feedback?", he asked you, already knowing your answer, by the smug look on his face.

"I'm gonna put together a pussy master certificate for you", you joked, patting him on the back. He let out an amused laugh, but laid with you on the couch, lazily stroking your hair as you caught your breath.

oof!!!! is it hot in here or is it just me???

would you guys be interested in Noah type one and two? (if you don't know I'm referring to this post)

Dividers: @cafekitsune

[turtle-steverogers]

i rlly like ur posts abt how steves rough time with his dad as a little kid affects him later in life. i was wondering do u think the other avengers notice? and if they do what do you think they think/do about it?

also tbh i rlly like ur posts in general lol. i hope you have a good day!

I think the other Avengers notice after some time, considering most of them have similar experiences. I imagine it's sort of an unspoken thing, but it's almost... more notable on Steve, because he's so goddamn young and because when he wakes up from the ice, he's so goddamn stretched thin, that the reserves he usually has to shove all those old habits into a box are low. He's jumpy, the others notice. A raised voice-- especially male-- makes him flinch before he smooths out his face. Making requests is hard for him, and mistakes-- even small ones-- are met with scrambling apologies and frantic attempts to fix the problems.

No one says anything, because they know what it's like, and they don't want him to feel cornered. But there's a hard mission, and he and Natasha are alone in a motel room, and Steve is so clearly low. Kids had been involved. And Natasha had seen the way Steve had shut down to see the marks and bruises on the little boy and girl they'd gotten out of a trafficking situation, and she understood. Albeit for different reasons, but at the core, the pain was the same. They'd both just been kids when they were hurt. Young and lost and wondering what they'd done to deserve the grown ups around them squashing them down and making them feel no better than the dirt.

He doesn't say anything, so she doesn't either. But that night, she can't sleep, and neither can he, and when she hears him shift, roll over. Curl onto his side as the silent tears start, she can't stand it anymore.

Her bed creaks as she slides out, ignoring the rough crunch of the carpet as she pads over to Steve's bed and climbs in behind him.

She crawls onto the bed behind him, stretching out. "Can I hold you?" she whispers. Steve shrugs. He doesn't care. He doesn't understand why she would want to be the big spoon to his hulking frame, but if she wants to, he won't stop her. He's too tired to. He feels her wiggle close and slides an arm over his chest, hugging him flush against her. Her palm rests over his heart and she rubs, soothing.

It eases some of the weight. Some of the ache. He breathes, shaky. She kisses the back of his neck. It's quiet for a long time.

Natasha's voice is soft and private when she speaks. "It hurts, what they did to us, doesn't it?"

Steve freezes, listening. Natasha holds on. He doesn't move her.

"Why would anyone treat children that way? Hurt them that way?"

Steve clenched his jaw, resignation in his gut. "How could you tell?"

Natasha sighs. "I put it together, more or less."

Steve nods and doesn't say anything. It's quiet here, outside the city. The world dark and lacking that telltale bustle. Steve hates it.

"It's alright that you're hurting still," Natasha continues, and Steve wants to beg her to stop, but he's too curious, too desperate for someone to see him that he doesn't. "It's okay that you're still scared. You're safe, darling... you don't have to believe that yet."

He starts to tremble.

"Shh, baby, hey," she soothes and her voice is easy to stomach. Easy to understand. "Breathe for me."

He sucks in a deep breath.

"Did they hit you in the Red Room?" he asks.

"Sometimes," Natasha says. "It was calculated, though. Discipline."

Discipline. Steve doesn't think his father meant for his hits to be discipline. They were just... correction. To get him to shut up. Or maybe so he could get his anger out.

"Breathe," Natasha reminds again. Steve takes another measured breath. "You don't have to tell me anything. But you can. I won't get it all, but I might understand."

Steve considers that. "How old were you? When it started?"

"I don't remember," Natasha said. "Very young. Four, maybe? You?"

"I don't remember either," Steve whispers, and he's furious. Suddenly, he wants to set the world on fire. For the little girl who just wanted a chance to see the sunshine, and for the little boy who just wanted to play. "Maybe the same."

They fall back into silence. Steve can feel his teeth chattering. Natasha starts humming a song, simple and soothing under her breath. He knows he doesn't have to say anything else; she understands. He lets his eyes fall shut again.

[romiiq]

Her name Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

Tw: Mentions of drugs, dependance on someone and I think that's it but If you catch something else don't doubt to let me know.

Rafe's POV

Rafe watches her from a distance, his heart clenching as he sees her walking away. Her figure, once so familiar, so intertwined with his own, is now fading into the night. He tries to say something else, but for the way she looked at him and Topper holding him back his words keep getting stuck on his throat, he gulps.

Y/N! Please -the words come out in a strangled whisper, another gulp, and his voice comes out stronger. “I can fix this!” She hears this part, he convinces himself she’ll come back.

Look back baby please look at me.

She doesn’t look back, not even once. She’s stronger than that—stronger than him. He knows it. And for the first time knowing her too well rips him apart, slowly and painfully, like his chest is being carved out with every step she takes until she's finally in Topper’s truck.

He thought he could handle it. He thought the numbness would protect him, that the inevitable wouldn’t hurt so much because, after all, he’d known from the beginning. It’s not that Rafe was oblivious to the kind of man he was; in fact, he knew it all too well. He was the type to ruin things, to break what he loved, and that truth haunted him every time he held her close. He loved her—there was no doubt about that—but love wasn’t enough to change the inevitable. He knew he would hurt her. He could see it in the distance, like a storm gathering on the horizon, and still, he didn't stop. It was a twisted fate he was resigned to, no matter how much it would destroy them both in the end.

The words echo in his head, taunting him with their brutal honesty. He had known it from the first time she smiled at him by that bonfire, the glow of the flames dancing in her eyes, making her look like something from another world. She had no idea who he really was. Not then. And maybe, for a brief moment, he wanted to believe he could hide it from her, hide the parts of him that were rotting from the inside out.

He tried, God, he tried to keep her at arm’s length. It was supposed to be casual, a way to forget everything else that came with the name Rafe Cameron. The drugs, the deals, the weight of his father’s expectations crushing him day by day. But then, without meaning to, he fell. And once he fell, he was lost. Because no matter how much of himself he gave her, there would always be more of him left in the shadows. She thought she could heal him. She believed in him, even when he didn’t deserve it. 

Rafe watches her through the window, her hand reaching up to wipe her eyes. She’s crying. He did that. He made her cry. His fists tighten at his sides, his knuckles white as he fights the urge to run after her, to beg her to turn around, to forgive him. But how could he have the nerve to say that? Wouldn't it make it worse? The truth? That he loved her so much it scared him? That he was clinging to a past where he thought he was happy? That he never meant to hurt her but did anyway, because that’s just who he is?

But Sofia had never really left, had she? Even when he was holding Y/N, kissing her; Rafe had been clinging to a past that never truly existed. That night, Sofia’s name slipped from his lips like a reflex, a desperate call to a version of himself that was long gone.

Sofia wasn’t the person he wanted. She never was. She had been his crutch when the world around him, when even his own father, didn’t see him. She had filled the gaps, made him feel less alone but that wasn’t love. It was an obsession. An obsession with a time when he thought she was all he had.

And tonight, when he kissed her, the truth hit him like ice. The illusion shattered. There was nothing there, no warmth, no fire. Because his heart, his life, belonged in the present. Not in the shadows of what could’ve been, but in the light of what was. His future wasn’t in Sofia. It never was, his future is (was) in Y/N.

“I never wanted this to happen” he whispers into the empty night, his voice hoarse, his throat raw from the words he’s kept buried for so long. But no one’s there to hear him. She’s gone. And the only thing left is the silence.

He remembers the way she looked at him when she saw him with Sofia. The betrayal in her eyes, the disbelief, like he had torn something sacred between them and shredded it without a second thought as it was meaningless. But it wasn’t thoughtless and neither meaningless. That was the worst part. It wasn’t a mistake. It was who he was, who he always would be.

Y/N’s last words replay in his head, over and over, searing his soul with every repetition. "I was never enough for you, was I? No matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried, I was never her."

He wanted to tell her that she was more than enough. That she was everything. But how could he say that when he knew, deep down, that it wouldn’t matter? He had fallen in love with her, yes, but he had also known that in the end, he would betray her. He knew it was like a curse running through his veins, something inescapable, something that would always drag him down, no matter how hard he tried to swim to the surface, he knew, oh man, he knew from the beginning he was going to fuck everything up.

His chest tightens as he watches the truck disappear down the street, swallowed by the darkness. He let her slip through his fingers, just like he let everything else in his life slip away. He loved her. He did. But he betrayed her the moment he let her believe that he could be something better, he lied to her, man, maybe he lied to himself about it too. Oh the goddamn stupid boy who thought he could be a better person. 

And now, standing in the aftermath of his own destruction, Rafe knows that she’s gone, and this time, there’s no going back even if he wanted to do everything right, even if Y/N said yes again. 

It was selfish—he realized. He couldn’t bear the idea of someone like her by his side. It terrified him, the thought of someone so real, so good, standing next to him, when all he had ever known was chaos. How could he deserve that? How could he let her have that?

No. He couldn’t do it. Not to her. 

So he did the only thing that made sense. He walked away.

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

Hey ya'll thank you for the support it means a lot to me. So this part is one that has been resting for a long time on my draft lmao and I decided to post it today, hope you enjoy it.

Also I'll definitely write what xcinnamonmalfoyx suggested, totally loved the idea, I'm so glad she thought about it because I was just gonna leave it like that haha.

Last but not least, sorry if I mistyped something English is not my first language and again thank you for all your kind words.

Anyways stay tunned and enjoy! :)

[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter five

summary: you and luca finally talk about what happened the night of the ballet -- and finally have a chance to clear the air.

warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, conversations about divorce, slow burn, baby, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 3k

a/n: let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

part four | masterlist | part six

You’ve been avoiding his calls all day. 

After Luca bid you goodnight on Thursday, you’d practically sprinted upstairs and into your apartment, slamming the door behind you while wondering what the hell was wrong with you?

You’re too stubborn for your own good, you think to yourself, recalling the moment – the one where you could’ve kissed him but you didn’t – between you and Luca. You stood there, too paralyzed to make a move, yet unable and unwilling to walk away from him. 

Luca had given you space most of yesterday, save for a text later in the evening, but the fact that today is Saturday, the day he almost always comes into the restaurant, is not lost on you. Instead of dealing with it, you’ve been hyper focused all day, choosing to bury your head in work as you run lunch service with Mathilde, more than grateful that business has run at a steady pace today. 

It’s not until you hit a stop, forced to pause after a few hours in between the lunch and dinner rush, reaches a lull. Your brain is suddenly inundated with too many thoughts: was this it? Had you scared him away forever? Did he think you were a total freak considering you’d practically run away from him after he’d said goodnight?

“So are we going to talk about it?” Mathilde presses you, ripping you out of your thoughts with the sound of her voice. You look her way, noticing that her lips pursed in sheer annoyance at your avoidance mechanisms. 

Your face falls, unable to carry this solo for much longer, letting out a sigh of resignation because you know she’s right. 

You can’t run from this – from your feelings, from Luca – forever. 

“Yeah,” you give in. “Yeah, okay.”

“What the hell happened?” Mathilde hisses as she approaches you. “I mean, he’s gorgeous, he’s cultured… he took you out to the ballet, and you like him!”

“I don’t know,” you huff, disappointedly. “I just-, I think I got too caught up in my head. It’s like one minute I was really jazzed at the idea of being on a date, let alone a date with Luca, and the next I’m just… I don’t know… totally psyching myself out and pushing him away.”

“Merde,” she swears in French this time. 

“Fuck,” you sigh, at least releasing a little of the pent up pressure you’ve been holding onto all day. 

“Babe, I know that holding all of this,” she begins, gesturing wildly towards you, “gives you a certain edge in the kitchen… but I can’t imagine it’s good for you.”

You send her another look – one that says ‘fuck off because I know you’re right’ this time. 

“I don’t know what to do, Mathilde,” you confess, your eyes pleading with her for some advice. 

She turns to you, this time with a much more serious expression as she says, “Luca seems like a really great guy. Maybe you should just tell him all of this.” 

You nod slowly as you process. It’s not that you haven’t thought about it – it’s not like it’s a new concept to you – you were married once, after all. But the idea of being vulnerable like that, showing someone new your whole hand feels really scary. You know it’s the thing you need to do; it’s the kindest, most honest option that you have – and you know that Luca deserves just that: kindness, transparency, the truth. 

As you continue to think it over, the only words that come to you are:

“I told him that I wasn’t in love with him anymore – with Joe. When he asked.”

“Luca?”

“Yeah.”

“It wasn’t a lie. Was it?” Mathilde questions you carefully. 

You share your head, growing more and more certain in your answer. 

“No, of course not. It’s not that. My hesitation has never been about Joe. It’s-, it’s about me…” you explain, finding the right words in the moment. “... about my heart.”

Mathilde places a gentle hand on your shoulder as you share a knowing look as she listens.

“What if I do this? I mean, what if I jump… and it’s a horrible mess… and I ruin a good thing with a really great guy because I’m not ready?” you ask, shining a light on your biggest fears. 

She takes a beat, thinking it over, before crossing her arms over her chest, as the two of you stand side by side, leaning up against a stainless steel prep station. 

“Then you do,” she answers, as if it were that simple. “And you figure out the rest. You’re only human after all.” 

You chuckle, playfully rolling your eyes at Mathilde’s not-so-friendly reminder. 

“Here’s an idea,” she starts back up again, catching your attention as you glance sideways to look at her. “What if you jump? And it’s the best thing you’ve ever done? What if it’s worth it?” 

You take a deep breath, letting her words sink in, letting yourself feel the possibility that this could also be the best thing you’ve ever done too. But before you can say anything in response, Jesper comes back into the kitchen, calling for you. 

“Hate to break up the slumber party, ladies, but can I borrow you for a moment, Chef?” he asks, making it clear that he’s talking to you. You and Mathilde exchange glances as Jesper nods through the open kitchen to where Luca waits for you in the dining room. You open your mouth to say something, but instead, you just nod, murmuring a ‘yeah, of course,’ quick to follow Jesper out of the kitchen. 

It’s impeccable timing, really, you think to yourself, that you were just contemplating the possibility that this could be something you could do. 

You could jump, you remind yourself, if you really wanted to. 

“Hi,” you say, barely above a whisper as soon as you see Luca. 

“Hi,” he smiles warmly in return, causing Jesper to look from you to Luca, then back to you again. 

“I’m just gonna-,” he starts, searching for an excuse. 

Only, he doesn’t have one, so Jesper simply excuses himself before disappearing into the kitchen to find a place where he and Mathilde both can pretend to do something when really eavesdropping. 

Jesper’s abrupt and clumsy exit seems some of the palpable tension, earring a laugh from both you and Luca. 

“I thought-,” he begins as you simultaneously say, “I’ve been meaning to call-.”

“Sorry,” he says with an apologetic half smile. 

“No I’m-. You go first,” you encourage, blushing on a little as the two of you clumsily dance around each other. 

Luca takes a breath, reminding himself that it wouldn’t be this weird if there wasn’t something between the two of you – that he hasn’t been imagining this – not even a little bit. 

“I hope that it’s okay. That I’m here,” he finally says, his voice steady and even. 

“I-, of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” you ask him, suddenly insecure about the fact that he felt he needed to ask in the first place. 

“I just-, well I thought ehm, maybe you’d need some space. I didn’t want to ehm, you know… show up here if-, even though it’s Saturday because it is your place and I wouldn’t want-,” Luca tries to explain, stopping and starting again and again. 

“Luca, no I-,” you say, before pausing, swearing to yourself under your breath as you mutter. “Shit. Fuck, I-. Goddamn, you really are fucking perfect.”

“What was that?” Luca asks, only catching the swearing part at the beginning and the ‘fucking perfect’ part at the end. 

“Um…” you trail off, looking around you. 

As you catch Jesper and Mathilde ducking behind a shelf out of the corner of your eye, and a few of your waitstaff hurrying to make it look like they’re busy and not listening in, you realize that you and Luca have managed to earn the attention of some very curious onlookers. 

“Do you want to step outside for a moment?” you ask, gesturing towards the front door. 

“Sure,” he nods, letting you lead him to a spot outside.

You make sure that you're both as out of sight as possible, staying far away from the broad windows that line the front of your restaurant. 

“Hi,” you say again on an exhale.

“Hi,” he says back, simply. 

“I’m glad you came. I know I-... I should’ve called, or- or texted you… after Thursday,” you begin, nervously, eager to own up to the very big part you’ve played in the lack of communication.

“Yes. You should’ve,” he repeats, his eyes catching yours as you nod in confirmation. 

It’s good – that he’s not going to let you off the hook – and while you like it, you like that he has boundaries, you’re disappointed in yourself as you say:

“I’m sorry.”

Luca sighs, shaking his head as he immediately counters with:

“No, I’m sorry. I mean, yes, you should’ve called. Or at least texted. But I should’ve been clear in the first place that Thursday…” he trails off, almost as if he’s mustering up the courage to say what he needs to say. 

“... that Thursday was more to me than our regular excursions. That it was a date. To me at least.”

“Luca-.”

“I wish I would’ve told you – made it clear in the first place – so you knew what you were getting into,” Luca finishes, carefully watching for your reaction. There’s something so honest in the way he goes about this conversation, and you sure as hell feel like you could take the proverbial jump right fucking now. 

“I appreciate that. Really, I do…” you start, before trailing off again. “But I-. This isn’t on you, Luca.”

“How do you mean?” he asks you, his expressive brows knitted together, as if you’d just spoken in tongues. 

Here goes nothing, you think to yourself.

“I-. This has been great. I mean… I really like spending time with you,” you start, anxiously, instantly realizing that it sounds like you’re breaking up with him. “Fuck, I-.” 

You let out a frustrated groan as it seems you’re having an impossible time getting out what you need to get out. You take a breath. And a beat, before continuing. 

“And I’ve really liked this… hanging out, getting to know you… borrowing your books. I-, I just… we’ve got such a good thing going and I really don’t want to fuck this up, you know?”

He sighs your name this time, looking down for a moment as you add:

“I’m-, I’m afraid that… I’m going to fuck this up.”

“Yeah. I know,” he answers, heavily. “I-, I am too.”

“And then Thursday night, things were so, so good, and I-, I panicked and I feel terrible because… you don’t deserve that. You don’t.”

Luca takes a beat as he listens. He’s not sure what exactly that means, but he reminds himself to stay on track, stay the course and make sure that he says what he came here to say to you. 

“It’s alright,” he reassures you, softly, taking a step towards you. “I don’t want you to feel like… like you have to feel a certain way just because I-.”

“No, that’s not it! That’s not-, that’s really not the problem,” you interject as you struggle to explain yourself, unsure of where to even begin. You take a step towards him this time too, your voice softening as you continue. “Luca, I don’t feel obligated to feel… any kind of way just because you-.”

“Because I?” he questions you.

The silence his questions leaves goes on a few beats longer than you expected, and you realize that he’s waiting for you to fill in the blank. 

“Well, I don’t know,” you pause, a shocked look on your face as one of you waits for the other.

“You didn’t-, I never let you finish your sentence so,” you ramble aimlessly, immediately bursting out into a fit of laughter as you realize that neither of you are getting anywhere. 

Luca laughs too, joining in on the much needed reprieve. 

The two of you exchange glances, and one more shared laugh, before settling in once again. 

With a crooked smile spread across his lips, Luca can take a hint, realizing that he may need to take the lead on this one.

The way your name sounds on his lips is so heavenly, so divine, so soft that you know you’ve got it bad, as you scramble for a way to tell him everything that you’ve been feeling. 

“May I?” he asks, in reference to taking the lead. 

“Please.”

“I just came here to tell you… I want to tell you…” he corrects himself, taking a step towards you. 

“... that I really like you. I really like spending time with you. I like that you get me out of the kitchen in search of something different. And I think that your mind, even though incredibly neurotic, is absolutely brilliant. And if what you need is for us to be friends right now, I want that. We can… slow all of this down. All you’ve got to do is talk to me.”

It feels like time fucking stops, and the world goes black and white for a moment, then full color all at once as you hear the words coming out of his mouth. Your revelation comes rushing in, clear as day – that this man cares so deeply for you and that maybe, your heart could be safe with him. Unsure of how to deal with the grace and compassion Luca is showing you, you’re only left with one question, as it falls from your lips like a boulder. 

“How?”

“What?”

“How do you always have the right thing to say…” you ask him, your voice caught in your throat as you finish your question.  “... when I only have the wrong things to say?”

Luca opens his mouth to say something you’ll never hear, as you choose to completely throw caution to the wind. 

Perhaps the question was rhetorical anyways. 

You’re not sure what’s coms over you, but instead of words, you only have actions left, and the only thing that will remedy the situation is to do the thing that you’ve been panicking over doing since Luca showed you into the pastry room at AOC. You charge forward, reaching out for him, and he’s right there with you, meeting you halfway as you eagerly press your lips to his. 

You can feel all the blood in your body rush through you as your lips connect. Your heart flutters. Your head spins. It’s the kind of kiss that people write sonnets about – write love songs about. It’s almost three months of simmering tension, finally allowed to reach its boiling point. You pull away, just for a moment, uttering out a breathless:

“Holy shit.”

Luca laughs with a shake of his head as he agrees with a, “Yeah.”

You exchange a look, and a laugh, before kissing him again. 

And this time the kiss is a hello, it’s a new beginning, it’s a ‘thank god I met you.’

This time, Luca pulls away, reluctantly releasing you as he does. 

“It’s not that I don’t like this,” he begins, using all of his restraint to put this on pause. “I really, really do, but… I’m kind of getting mixed signals here.”

“No, no, I know,” you apologize, turning as you hear your name called, swearing under your breath again as soon as you see Mathilde peeking her head out of the front door. 

“Oh… my God! I am so sorry, I’ll just-, except for we need you to-, she calls after you, stumbling over her words as soon as she realizes what’s going on between you and Luca. 

“Nevermind it can wait!” Jesper exclaims, poking his head out of the front door as well, before dragging Mathilde back into the restaurant.

You and Luca exchange another laugh. 

“They’re… something,” you chuckle, with a shake of your head. 

“Good wingmen,” Luca adds, mirroring your previous exchange with his coworker. 

Returning his focus to you, Luca shakes his head incredulously, considering this is not the way he thought this conversation would go. He grins as he takes you in, but knows that this is time limited. He’d noticed the curious staff of your restaurant that he’s come to know and love doing their best to pretend they weren’t listening in on your conversation earlier. They know exactly what’s going on here, so if they felt the need to interrupt, Luca knows that you’re most likely needed back in the kitchen. 

He shifts his weight in between both of his feet, taking a small step back as he states:

“We’re gonna have to talk about this.”

“Yes,” you agree, your declaration certain.

“But right now you have to go,” Luca continues. 

“Right now I have to go,” you echo as confirmation. “Later. I promise. We’ll talk. Tonight?”

“Yeah ehm. Not to be… presumptuous. But my place is closeby. We could… perhaps talk. Tonight. There?” Luca suggests, trying to downplay the fact that it sounds like he’s asking you to come over for a booty call. 

It’s certainly not his intention, considering he’d just offered to slow things down, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. 

“Yeah. I’ll text you,” you agree, suddenly nervous again. “When I’m done here. If you’re still up.”

“It’s a date,” Luca agrees, deciding to move in towards you again.

You nod, taking another step towards him so that you can kiss him again. 

“Oh, and Luca?”

He hums in response, his eyes flickering from yours to your lips because he really can’t wait to kiss you again either. . 

“I should be-. I want to be clear,” you begin, deciding to be brave in this moment. 

He raises an eyebrow. 

“I really like you too,” you say, before standing tall on your tiptoes, and pulling him down to you for, this time, a see-you-later kiss. 

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

a/n: ummm hi how are we doing is everyone doing ok?!

[thursdayinspace]

WIP: on the run

This is a thing that spiraled out of control from a tiny headcanon. I'm not sure this will ever become an actual fic, but I thought I'd share this angsty little snippet, because it can stand on its own. They're on the run after season 9, and Mulder feels guilty, so things happen.

tagging @today-in-fic

It happens only once after they go on the run. Only once, after days on the road, too many days of never-ending worry and fear. Endless days of constantly looking over their shoulders, endless nights with little to no sleep, expecting to be caught any second. It happens once and only once, and Scully knew it was coming. Still, it hits her hard when it does.

It’s a Tuesday, maybe a Wednesday morning; days of the week have lost all meaning, blending together in strips of highway and cheap motels. She wakes up in some damp, moldy room in the middle of nowhere and the bed next to her is cold. For a second, her brain refuses to make sense of it; she sits up, blinking against the light, listening. No sounds from the bathroom, no water running. His bag is missing, no longer on the chair in the corner where he left it. The shock pierces her heart cold as ice: he's gone. Her frantic eyes fall on a note on the bedside table, his familiar handwriting in blue ballpoint pen on yellowed motel stationery:

I'm sorry. I can't do this to you. You deserve so much better, Scully. Please don't be mad at me, you know I'm right about this. I love you.

They checked in late last night and went straight to bed. She doesn't have anything to pack. In her rush to put yesterday's clothes back on, she gets caught in her sweater, can't find the armhole, can't get it over her head, and she loses precious seconds; god knows where he is by now. She leaves in such a hurry she forgets her toothbrush in the bathroom.

He left the car. Of course he did. The keys are in her bag where she put them, having driven the last few miles of their journey last night. That stupid man, if he tried to hitchhike and risked being recognized—she doesn't want to think about it, she needs a level head right now. She knows him better than anyone. Where could he have gone? He doesn't want to be found, not by the cops, and now not by her. Her chest aches and she can’t breathe. She doesn't even know how long he's been gone, and she curses her ability to sleep through absolutely everything. But she knows him. She knows him. If anyone can find him, it's her.

At least this she knows, this is something she can do. So much is out of her control. But she’s fought monsters. She’s solved puzzles nobody else wanted to touch. She can figure this out. And she knows where to start. She knows Mulder.

**

The late afternoon sun casts his shadow long over the soft grass at his feet, and she slams the car door harder than necessary, ready to cry with anger or relief or whatever the hell it is she's feeling. "Mulder."

"Hey, Scully," he says, sounding guilty, resigned, his face unhappy and tired as he meets her eyes.

"What the hell—" She breaks off, barely able to speak through the pounding of her heart. "Mulder, what were you thinking...?"

"I'm sorry," he says. He looks so utterly defeated. "How did you find me?"

She shakes her head, deciding not to get into the shit job he did of concealing his steps; it's almost like he left an intentional trail of breadcrumbs for her to follow, but this is not the time for that discussion. "I cannot believe you. After everything? You try to pull a stunt like this after everything we've been through?"

"It's my fault," he says. "It's all my fault. You're cut off from everyone you love. You have no future. You have no son. Because of me."

"You're such a fucking idiot," she spits at him. He doesn't move, doesn't reply, only lowers his eyes in shame. "Mulder," she tells him. "Look at me."

He doesn't, just lifts his shoulders in a shrug. "Go home, Scully."

"Just stop it," she says. "You know I'm not going to do that. So can we just not do this? Please? Can we please not fight about this?”

“I don’t want to fight with you.” His voice is barely more than a whisper. “I want you to be safe.”

“Yeah, well.” She takes a few steps closer, sighing. “We can’t always get everything we want.”

“Scully.” His hand reaches for her and she reaches back, she always does, she always will. “This isn’t fair to you.”

“Leaving without a word isn’t fair,” she says. There’s more she wants to say. Promises she wants to hear but can’t ask for; promises she wants to make that she can’t put into words. Not yet. Instead, she wraps her arms around him and holds on, closes her eyes when he finally lifts his arms to squeeze her tight and bury his face in her hair.

“What are we going to do?” he asks.

He’s warm against her, warm and solid and there. “I don’t know,” she says.

She can’t keep this anger inside, and he can’t shoulder this guilt on his own. But she’s too exhausted to fight. Too drained to do anything more than stand here with him. Capitulation and relief are written into every breath against her neck, into the way he wraps himself around her. He doesn’t have the strength to let go. Months ago she’s held him like this once before, and she understands how it tears him apart—she’d felt it too, then: loving him so much she’d needed him to leave, needing him so much she’d wanted him to stay.

“What can I do?” he asks, and she fills in the blanks: What can I do to make this right? What can I do to prove I’m sorry? What can I do to make it so that all this never happened?

And she wants to tell him: please see me, please understand that I need you. “Talk to me,” she says, aware of her hypocrisy; her own words are safely locked away where he will never hear them. He left because he loves her. She found him for the same reason.

“I’ll try,” he says.

She knows he wants her anger and she wishes she could give it to him, but she has no fight left in her and neither does he. If she hopes for it hard enough, maybe they’ll be okay. After all, she knows he’s hoping for the same thing.

[heartseungs-archive]

going below zero | l.dh

genre ❄ coworker au, enemies to lovers, slowburn, fluff, angst pairings ❄ attorney!donghyuck x attorney!reader word count ❄  10.2k synopsis ❄ Considering how much Haechan makes it his personal mission to antagonize you at work, it seems like a rather cruel twist of fate that the both of you have been side by side since middle school, the only consolation being that his office is a different floor from yours. But if there’s a saying about how distance makes the heart grow fonder, your attitude with him might just be the opposite, and it’ll take a family ski holiday to find out. warnings ❄ mentions of alcohol info ❄ merry christmas everyone!!! i hope you enjoy this small present and hava a very warm holiday wherever you are  <3 (it's currently below freezing in seoul and I'm typing this barely half-alive in my hotel room at 1.50am after returning from gocheok sky dome)

You enjoy your job. Mostly.

Besides the long hours, gruelling paperwork, inefficient district judiciary, and shitty coffee, of course. It’s all bearable, especially if you think about the multiple zero digits in your annual salary and the occasional bonus. And of course, you’ve developed a certain fondness for your office, which gives you a lovely view of the palaces and Seoul’s skyline.

“Y/N. Your coffee.” Karina passes you one of two mugs, specifically the one with daisies on it. Everyone working on your floor has made a deliberate effort to get distinct coffee mugs out of disdain for sharing, and you’re all the more grateful for it, especially on days like this. You take a tentative sip, and barely prevent yourself from spitting it out.

Maybe the burnt espresso will be the tipping point for your resignation after all.

“I still can’t believe the tenth floor shares their cups communally. Renjun would flay us if we tried suggesting it,” Karina mutters. She’s dressed in a form-fitting suit today, blouse slightly untucked. It’s been two years since she joined as a paralegal, and you’ll miss having her careful eye to look over your documents. Still, if there’s anyone deserving of becoming an associate, it’s her.

“It’s what happens when you have a floor that’s ninety-per cent men. Especially with people like him.” Your voice narrows to a sharp point, and Karina already knows who you’re talking about.

“I still don’t know what’s up with the both of you,” she muses, and you shrug. “It’s a long story. One that I’ll tell if I’m drunk and tired. Unfortunately, it’s currently-” you steal a glance at your watch, “-nine-thirty on a Monday morning, so wrong time.”

She gives a nod of acceptance, grimacing at the harrowed expression on your face. “Well, if you need anything, I’ll be outside.”

“Wait. Karina,” you call out, and the girl halts, arching an eyebrow at you. “Where’s the case that we were working on last week? The medical negligence one.”

There’s a nervous expression on her face when she takes in your words, and you don’t have a good feeling about what she’s going to say next.

“Karina. What is it.”

She smiles sheepishly, and that’s when you really start getting scared.

“Haechan…said he could take over because you were busy with your current ones and Mr Kim agreed. It happened when you were on leave last Friday. I thought he emailed you.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Karina tries to flash a smile, but it comes out more like a pained cringe as she watches you close your eyes, and then take a deep inhale. You’re deathly quiet, and it’s slightly terrifying. “I’ll be back,” you force out, and she turns, alarmed, as you stride out of the office.

“Where are you going?”

You don’t answer.

Haechan gives it approximately five minutes before you reach his office. It takes three minutes for you to take the lift up, and it’s about twenty metres from the lobby to his personal office.

If you’re particularly enraged, however, your pace might be a little faster, so he accounts for that too.

“Three…two…” he counts down to himself, before the sharp knocks come.

“One.” The last word leaves his mouth with a note of finality, before you’re standing in front of him, eyes alight with indignation. It’s one of his favourite expressions on you. “Lee Haechan!” You shout, and he jumps a little at the loudness of your voice.

“You know, if you’re going to come in before I even allow it, you might as well not bother knocking,” he comments, turning his chair to face you.

“If you hadn’t taken my case, I wouldn’t even need to be here. Medical negligence isn’t even your specialty. Go back to whatever you’re doing in real estate.” You wave a cursory hand in the general direction of his desk to emphasise your point.

“But I think it’s interesting. And Mr Kim said he wants the lawyers at his firm to be versatile.” Haechan looks at you innocently as he says it, but the slight upward tug at the corner of his mouth betrays his real intentions.

If this was anyone else, you might have believed them. But Haechan never genuinely wants to help you, not unless he gets something out of it. Sometimes, he just wants to get on your nerves. It’s like some sort of twisted stress relief therapy for him, finding new ways to torment you.

“Look.” You run a hand through your hair, as if it’ll do something to calm your emotions. “Why are you doing this? Just leave me alone and we can live our perfectly happy lives. Doesn’t that sound good?”

For a second, he looks to be deep in thought, genuinely considering your suggestion. Until a smirk creeps up onto his face, and you mentally sink to your feet in dread.

“But that wouldn’t be any fun,” he says while gazing at you innocently, lips settling into a soft pout, and you feel a sharp tick of annoyance.

You’re going to kill him one day. You’re sure of it.

“So, are you drunk and tired enough yet to tell us what your deal with Haechan is? I’m curious, and so is Ningning.” You narrow your eyes at the two girls sitting opposite you, identical stone-faced expressions resting on their faces. “Was that your entire scheme by dragging me out on a Saturday night?”

Karina grins. “Maybe.”

You look to Seulgi for support, but she only shrugs. “I kind of want to know too.”

“I’m not getting out of this, am I?” You ask, and Ningning shakes her head, pouring another shot of soju for you to down. You take it gratefully, relishing the cold burn as the alcohol makes its way into your system. Where do you start?

“I’ve known Lee Haechan since high school, if you have to know.” There’s a soft murmur of surprise from Karina at that piece of information, but you ignore it and continue.

“We’ve been competing over everything since we were teenagers. Think student council presidency, valedictorian, and best speaker at debate club sessions. When we got to university, it was the dean’s list and travel scholarships.”

Seulgi hums in thought. “And now that you’re both in the same company, it was the promotion to associate.” You nod. She’s quick to catch on, but you’re not finished.

“It wouldn’t be that bad if he was just a competitor. But of course, with my shitty luck, that man just so happens to be the devil’s incarnate,” you mutter venomously, and Ningning raises her hand. “But I think he’s got a good sense of humor.”

When no one responds, she coughs awkwardly. “Sorry.”

She’s not entirely wrong, of course. Haechan’s funny in the way an internet video is, when you see someone getting pranked and laugh at them for not figuring it out sooner. However, it’s a bit harder to find joy in it when you’re on the receiving end.

“Have you considered…being friends? Maybe he’s just trying to get closer to you,” Seulgi suggests, and you shake your head vehemently. Her statement is a bizarre one in itself. If Haechan wanted to make amends, there were hundreds of better, other ways that he could have gone about it, instead of making you want to tear your hair out at every turn.

“Not happening. We’re way past that now,” you decide, and she looks at you doubtfully, as if she wants to say something. Before she can open her mouth, however, Ningning sits up in alarm, temporarily sober as she looks directly at you.

“I overheard Mr Kim saying he was looking to promote one of our senior associates to a partner next year. But doesn’t that mean….”

You stiffen at her words, the grip on your cup growing impossibly tighter. There’s a mental list of the senior associates in your firm that you quickly run through, but they’re all eliminated for various reasons here and there, until you’re left with two options.

You grit your teeth.

“Oh dear,” Karina mutters as she looks at your expression, as if already aware of what’s about to happen. Seulgi instinctively reaches a hand out to comfort you, but you barely register it.

Compared to the trivialities of freshman year, this is vastly different. Being a partner at the firm means a stake in the company, a concrete role and title that will cement your position. It’s every associate’s dream, and something that you’ve wanted since you first walked through the shiny glass doors of your office building. You’ll be damned if Haechan takes it away from you now, when your dreams are so close in reach.

There’s nothing much you can do now, however, besides crossing your fingers and waiting. You’re not sure if anyone’s keeping a tally of the cases that you or Haechan have won so far, but if there is, it’s likely neck-and-neck. Still, you hope your clean record and stellar performance count for something, even if you lack the natural charisma that he’s brimming with.

If you’re lucky enough, Mr Kim might select you for the diversity representation, just to even out the gender statistics in the company’s annual report. It’s not a fair or honourable way to win, but it’s a win nonetheless.

“On the bright side, there’s only a week until our Christmas break. You won’t need to see Haechan in office at all for a month at least.”

Seulgi’s good at saying the right things in the right situations, and you feel a sigh of relief escape you at the thought of being free of his presence for a good amount of time.

Until you realise she’s dead wrong.

At your guttural groan, Ningning looks over in alarm. “Are you sick? You should have listened to me when I told you not to drink so much alcohol-” She’s cut off by Karina placing a gentle hand on her arm, and waiting for you to respond. “Y/N, is there something wrong?”

It’s a few too many moments before your head comes back up, hair dishevelled and expression pale. “Remember when I said Haechan and I went to the same high school?” It’s a rhetorical question. Of course they remember. You swallow thickly, gaze roaming over the three girls in front of you as they patiently wait for you to continue.

“I may have forgotten to mention that our parents have been best friends for the past two decades.”

There was one clear memory of Haechan that you had from your childhood, and it involved crying. A lot of it. You had an irrational fear of sunflowers and subsequently bees, perhaps because there were always swarms of that exact insect around them.

It only took two days of Haechan finding out about this before he snuck sunflower seeds into your lunchbox, and told you that eating them would cause said flower to grow in you. Your teacher had found tears streaming down your cheeks once the bell rang, and Haechan ran off to tell everyone about how easily you had believed him, how gullible you seemed.

The relationship between the both of you never quite seemed to repair properly after that incident, even as your parents made hopeless attempts to make the two of you playmates.

You would have assumed that the animosity between both of you would mellow out once you turned older. After all, it was nothing but a foolish stunt pulled by a mischievous child.

Yet, the awkwardness devolved into competition and mutual dislike, especially when you realised that the both of you were constantly fighting for the same opportunities. And then he became wittier, always saying the right comments to make anger creep up the back of your neck.

Your parents might have saved a lot of effort if they knew the state of things between the both of you now.

“Well, isn’t someone looking cheerful today.” The familiar cadence of his voice grates at your ears. Haechan had been an avid member of the choir in his younger years, and you can still recall him winning district singing competitions. You would enjoy his voice more if it was disembodied and separate from the man himself.

“I rather walk than sit in your car,” you retort, but you know you’re lying through your teeth. Even then, he won’t abandon you, considering how his mother was very firm about the both of you showing up together and giving her regular updates. You wouldn’t put it beyond Mrs Lee to facetime the both of you at any time, just to check.

Haechan’s car is comfortable, and it seems to be the one thing he splurges on, besides his apartment in downtown Seoul. The leather seats are plush behind your back, and there’s a faint lavender smell that lingers inside. You’re not sure why you can recall those exact bits of information, considering you can’t remember the last time he drove you somewhere. Two years ago, he still had an old Toyota Camry, and the both of you would usually just take the train.

There were a few good things about the pandemic, and one of them was getting to work from home. The second was that you didn’t have these yearly trips back with Haechan, established as a tradition after the both of you relocated to Seoul for university.

Still, you’ll endure it, if it means getting home to spend Christmas with your family. The holiday has always evoked a sense of homesickness in you, and it’s likely due to the amount of effort your parents put into celebrating it. They weren’t religious, but they made sure there was always plenty of presents and hot chocolate.

It was fun, even if you were sent over every Christmas morning as an eight-year-old to wish the Lees a merry Christmas and endure Haechan’s teasing.

“I can’t believe you still listen to Michael Jackson.” The song that plays through the speakers is something you haven’t heard in years, but you’d recognize it anywhere.

“It’s good music. I’m not sure why you dislike him so much.”

“I would enjoy his music a lot more if you hadn’t blasted it at two in the morning during finals season,” you say bitterly, and Haechan lets out a low chuckle. The both of you are stuck in traffic, and the silence that settles in the car is painfully awkward. You and Haechan don’t have much to say to each other, besides sharp words, and you’re starting to regret it a little.

You can feel Haechan’s eyes on you when he turns his head, fingers drumming on the wheel. However, you refuse to afford him the pleasure of meeting his gaze, your eyes resolutely fixed on the car in front of you.

His throat bobs slightly, nervously. “Look, we’ve got a long drive ahead of us, and I rather it not be in silence. Let’s just pretend the company doesn’t exist. Truce?” He asks, and you try not to make the relief too obvious on your face. At your nod, Haechan breaks out into a brilliant smile, one that makes his features irk you less.

He should smile more instead of that smirk that he has all the time, you think. You would prefer it more.

“Now, what song do you want to queue? I’ll let you have music rights for the next three hours.”

The house looks exactly as you remember. Even then, the colours are brighter, more saturated in your eyes, tinted with the unmistakable nostalgia of childhood. You step carefully onto the robin’s egg-blue porch, luggage behind you as you ring the doorbell.

It’s like both your and Haechan’s movements are in sync, likely looking identical from the back.

You had forgotten to mention to the three girls that the two of you happened to be next-door neighbours as well.

There’s the pitter-patter of footsteps against wood before the door flies open, and your mother is in front of you and hugging you tightly. She feels so much smaller than you, so different from the imposing figure of your childhood. There’s weathered lines across her face, but the brightness in her eyes is still identical to your memories.

You smile. “Hey, mom.”

“Look who’s here,” the low timbre of your father’s voice rings out before you see him, and your smile grows inexplicably wider. “How was the trip here? Haechan drove safely, didn’t he? I should buy something for them later. Gas is expensive these days, you know.”

“He was going to make the trip anyways. Besides, doesn’t it save more gas if we travel together?” You question, and your mother rolls her eyes. “I forgot about that mouth of yours. It’s only become worse since you’ve become a lawyer,” she sighs out, but her eyes are full of mirth.

Your luggage is deposited in your room by your father before you can even offer to help, and you realise that your family hasn’t made any effort to redecorate the empty space, instead leaving everything as it is. Some of your vinyls still sit on the shelf, along with photographs and trophies from different competitions. If you dig hard enough, you might be able to find your old clothes as well.

“Oh, Y/N, don’t unpack yet. Help me bring this over to the Lees,” she hands you a cooler bag, and you peer inside to find banchan neatly packed into tupperware and freshly-baked cookies. “Don’t you want to deliver these yourself?” you ask hopefully, but immediately sink back down when she shakes her head. “It’ll be good for Mr and Mrs Lee to see you. Now go.”

It’s a small consolation of sorts that Mrs Lee is the one opening the door when you knock, and Haechan is nowhere to be found.

“I feel like I say this every time I see you, but you’ve grown so much.” The warm smile on her face elicits one from you too, and you wonder why the apple fell so far from the tree. As you go past the hallway, you can’t help but feel like you’re transported back to childhood. The house is as familiar to you as your own, even if most of your time here was spent bickering with him.

Once you reach the kitchen, you unpack the lunchboxes, tiptoeing to reach the fridge drawer. “I think these are good to be refrigerated for two weeks. Where should I put it?”

“Anywhere on the top shelf is fine. Do you want coffee?”

A latte isn’t usually your drink of choice, but you’re grateful for any caffeine hit after the long ride. Along the way, you had decided to take a nap, and Haechan had woken you up by blasting a song in your ear at full volume.

“Mom, did you see my winter coat- Oh, it’s you,” Haechan says when he steps into the kitchen, and you muster a polite smile on your face. Mrs Lee frowns slightly. “That’s no way to speak to our guest. And it’s on the uppermost shelf of your cabinet. Why don’t you walk Y/N out?”

“It’s fine, Mrs Lee, I live right opposite-”

“Sure,” Haechan cuts in nonchalantly, and you widen your eyes at him, a silent question. He deliberately ignores your heavy gaze and loops his arm in yours. “Well, come on. Let’s go.”

“Why are you looking for your winter coat? It’s not that cold yet,” you ask curiously, and Haechan halts in his steps, a puzzled expression on his face.

You’re shifting uncomfortably now, tense as Haechan continues staring at you. “What?”

Until the confusion on his face fades to a certain sort of mischief, and he leans down until his face is inches away from yours. You step back abruptly, putting some distance between the both of you, but the smug smile doesn’t leave Haechan’s face.

“Didn’t they tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“We’re going to a ski resort. You and me.”

There’s a light in Haechan’s eyes as he says it, one that seems to spell death and doom. You’re too stunned to speak, everything tuned out save for his face in front of yours.

At least now you know why your mother stopped you from unpacking your luggage.

There’s something about the airport that makes you feel like you’re dreaming. It’s the hallways that seem to stretch on endlessly, and the way you lose track of time save for the numbers displayed in bright red on the large digital clock.

It’s one of your favourite places in the world. Planes, however, not so much. The dry air, cramped seats, loud noises, and the fact that you’re tens of thousands of feet above solid ground serve no purpose other than making you uneasy. Even though the improvement in Haechan’s and your salaries mean that your families can escape sitting in economy, you still can’t ignore the fact that the only thing saving you from falling to your death is a hunk of floating metal.

“Any drinks for you?” The air stewardess in front of you is bright-eyed, absent of the anxiety swirling in your stomach. “Just apple juice, please,” you mumble, setting the cup down in the holder in front of you. You probably won’t drink it anyways.

When takeoff begins, you try your best to ignore the rumbling of the plane, instead choosing to lean back and close your eyes. The sooner you fall asleep, the better.

Until the plane jerks violently, and your eyelids fling open. You can faintly hear the pilot apologising for the upcoming turbulence, but it barely registers, fading into background noise in favour of your thundering heartbeat. It seems sleep will be far out of reach today.

“Hey, you okay?”

You’re tempted to ignore Haechan, but he doesn’t sound teasing, instead genuinely concerned. You’re quite sure your face is twenty different shades of pale, but having him see you like this brings a flush of embarrassment to your cheeks. “I’m fine,” you force out, and wonder if you can request to change seats. 

It’s been a long time since you last got on a plane, and when you were young, you would be sandwiched between your parents. You’re wishing now that you had insisted on sitting with one of them, but it was obvious that this was some sort of double-date arrangement between your families, with you and Haechan as collateral.

You’re an adult, Y/N. Pull yourself together.

Your knuckles are bone-white from how hard you’re gripping the armrest, and Haechan, perceptive as ever, quickly figures out what’s wrong. “You’re scared of flying, aren’t you?”

You screw your eyes shut, exhaling shakily. “Shut up, Lee. I can’t do this right now.” He falls silent, and you think he might have temporarily retreated from teasing you for the moment.

The feeling of someone’s hand over yours quickly catches your attention, however, and you’re temporarily pulled away from your fear to look down, bewildered. “I used to have a younger cousin who was scared of flying.” He doesn’t offer any other explanation when he intertwines his fingers with yours.

You hate to admit it, but the warmth of his hands provides a welcome respite from your unease. When the plane jolts again, your grip tightens momentarily, and you expect Haechan to have some sort of teasing quip at how easily you jump. Contrary to your expectations, he simply smooths his thumb over your hand, a calming, repetitive motion that makes it easier for you to breathe.

Even when the seatbelt sign flickers off, Haechan doesn’t make any motion to move away. “Feeling better?” He asks, and you nod slowly. There’s a grin on his face at your response, one that is surprisingly genuine.

It takes a few seconds of Haechan staring at you before you cough awkwardly, immediately extricating your palm. It makes you feel slightly foolish, realising that he must have wanted you to let go of your own accord so he wouldn’t feel bad. He almost looks disappointed, but you’re convinced the fear has induced a hallucination of sorts.

You’re feeling fine now, or at least that’s what you think.

Until hours later, when the pilot announces descent, and your heart rate picks back up. Haechan doesn’t wait for you to ask this time, immediately slotting his fingers between yours.

“Thank you. You don’t have to do this,” you say thickly, strangely grateful for the man sitting next to you. Despite his endless teasing, he seems to know how to help at the right times. Maybe Ningning’s right, that he’s not all that bad. You suppose you’ve demonized the boy to an extent, driven by years of childish retorts.

In reality, you don’t hate him as much as you make it out to be. There’s just a feeling of walking on eggshells at his presence, a certain way that Haechan makes you feel off-kilter from never being able to predict what his next actions will be.

“You know, if you just wanted to hold my hand, you could have said so.” Haechan’s words make your cheeks burn, and you whip your head to the side to stare the boy down.

“I take it back. You’re the most infuriating person I know.” His forehead wrinkles slightly at that, and you realise he had not been privy to your previous thoughts. “Take what back?” He asks, and you ignore him. The apple juice is conveniently placed in front of you, and you gulp heavily from it. Anything to avoid telling Haechan what exactly you were thinking.

He moves closer, and you choke slightly at his proximity. At this distance, you can see your wide-eyed expression reflected clearly in his eyes. He scrunches his eyebrows in thought, and you can’t help but think he looks almost…adorable. Until you give yourself a violent kick mentally.

“You said that you wanted to take it back…you don’t think I’m infuriating?” There’s a hopeful glint in his eyes, one that makes your heart stumble at an unfamiliar pace. “Perhaps….even endearing?” He muses, unable to hide his smirk now. You’re lost for words, cheeks painted scarlet as you stare at the boy.

The buzzing of the overhead intercom jolts you out of whatever trance Haechan has put you in, the clicking of seatbelts filtering into your ears. You shove him away lightly, enough to put much-needed distance between the both of you but not enough to wound him. A breath escapes Haechan as he falls back into his seat ungracefully, but his eyes remain fixed on your figure as you hurriedly get up to take your overhead bag.

Until you tiptoe, fingers scrabbling at empty space, and decide that whatever higher powers up there must really have it out for you. The familiar black duffel bag is just out of reach, likely having shifted backwards during the course of the flight. You’re prepared to admit defeat and ask your father to help, when there’s the feeling of someone’s back against yours, warm and solid. You jerk your head around in alarm, only to see Haechan easily grabbing the bag and holding it in front of you.

He’s too close. Much too close for comfort.

“What are you doing?” you demand, but it comes out more as a high-pitched stutter, betraying your nerves. “You seemed to need some help. You know, I didn’t realise how short you were without your heels,” he comments, and you’re left unable to reply, too distracted by the way he’s still pressed close to you. It suddenly feels difficult to get enough oxygen, and your heart is going a mile a minute. There’s an exhale of relief that escapes when he finally moves away to make way for another passenger.

You don’t miss the way his eyes follow you even as you stride quickly down the aisle to join your parents, and a flush creeps at the back of your neck.

This holiday is going to drive you mad.

“So, how’s the trip going? With Y/N, no less,” Renjun asks, unable to hide his grin. Haechan hums in thought, settling on a pillow as he decides on a response. “Not bad. We’re making progress.”

“Progress as in…she’s less interested in homicide and more towards assault?” Haechan genuinely considers it for a second, before he nods in assent. The look on Renjun’s face is a mixture of frustration and bewilderment.

“Lee Haechan, you’re hopeless.” He sits up indignantly at that statement, glaring at Renjun even through the grainy screen. “Honestly, I’ll be surprised if Y/N even reciprocates your feelings. For a successful attorney, you sure are an idiot.”

The lack of faith is disappointing to Haechan, but no matter. Getting you to like him back has been at the top of his wishlist since junior year, and he’s not about to give up now.

The memory of you walking into the club room with your school blouse neatly tucked in and hair tied back still remains fresh in Haechan’s mind. You had been a model student, but not in a way that felt too overbearing. Maybe sometimes you would frown at his bright Converse shoes, or loose tie. But they technically weren’t against school rules, so Haechan continued to tiptoe the fine line between dress code and responsibility as vice-president of Student Council.

Originally, the boy was happy enough to be the chairperson of the debate club, until Jaemin, his labmate, had very cleverly pointed out that the both of you would get to head the annual prom together.

And so he decided to campaign, effectively providing one of the most stressful experiences of your high school years.

Those were some of the best memories of his final year, sitting in the classroom with you and ironing out details for hours. It was obviously something that you were passionate about, giving up so many sleepless nights just to research the exact decorations.

It was one of the things he liked most about you, that spark in your gaze when you saw something you liked, or fixed your mind on something. On occasion, it would appear when he teased you, though it was often accompanied by anger. Still, he craved it. Haechan liked having your eyes on him, even if they were narrowed with exasperation.

And when finals had ended, the invisible heavy burden on your shoulders had seemed to lift, and you laughed easier, smiled more. Even when he pestered you, there would only be an indulgent smile on your face. Prom was barely a week away, and he thought that would be it. That he would ask you to be his date, and maybe, finally you’d see him in a new light, beyond the boy who always seemed to be competing with you.

And then you disappeared from school without any information whatsoever, right up until the day itself. He had even asked Ryujin, the secretary of student council. Everyone was clueless.

The next time Haechan saw you was in the university lecture hall, and his shoulders had sunk in relief at the sight of your face.

Now, seven years later, Haechan was still playing a game of catch-and-toss for your heart, but he didn’t mind.

The boy had been feigning an expression of nonchalance when he offered his hand to you in the plane, but when you didn’t pull away, Haechan was quite convinced that his heart was going to leap out of his chest.

He’s not sure if you’ll let him hold your hand again, but a man can dream. The doorbell rings then, jolting Haechan out of his thoughts. “Give me a second, Jun,” he mutters as he sets the phone down, slippers thudding softly against the carpeted floor.

When he flings the door open, the last person he’s expecting to see is the one that’s been taking up his thoughts.

You’re swamped in an oversize hoodie and leggings, hair dishevelled and reading glasses balanced on the tip of your nose. It’s obvious you’ve woken up recently, and he steals a glance at the clock before focusing back on you.

You look different. But a good different.

“Weren’t you going down with them to the village?” He asks, and you smile sheepishly. “Overslept.”

The ski resort the both of you were in was located high up in the mountains, and there was a shuttle bus going down to the winter village twice a day. Your parents had suggested going down for dinner, but Haechan had work to clear up and decided to stay back.

It seems fate has a funny way of leaving the two of you together, Haechan thinks as he looks at you, still slightly drowsy. “Wanna go get dinner?” There’s an involuntary grumble of your stomach at his words, and Haechan chuckles slightly. He presses the end call button without a second thought, before grabbing his leather jacket.

“Come on, let’s go.”

He tries to hold back his smile when he feels your footsteps behind his.

The first thing you realise is that the restaurant is full of couples. You’ve only seen one family so far, the rest of the patrons seating in tables of two. You chalk it down to pure coincidence, even as the waiter hands you a menu that’s awfully thin.

“I’m Jisung, and I’ll be your server for today. Our menu is a four-course set with seasonal ingredients designed for couples. Let me know whenever you’re ready to order.” The boy standing in front of your table looks awfully young to be working at a fine-dining establishment, but his voice is level as he arranges the silverware.

You suck in a nervous breath when you notice that the price isn’t even printed on the menu. It means that it’s expensive, and you’re not sure you want to know how much. You’re not one to splurge unnecessarily. “The food better be good,” you mumble, not noticing the way Haechan smiles softly at your comment.

“I’ll cover the bill,” he suggests, and at the resistance in your eyes, Haechan waves a dismissing hand. “I picked it anyways.” You don’t protest further.

Despite the steep price, you can’t help but admire the high ceilings of the restaurant, black marble walls offset by tasteful streaks of gold.

“Y/N.” At the mention of your name, your attention is pulled back to the man sitting opposite you. In the warm glow of the candlelight, his features are rounder, more delicate, and his hair somehow darker. It leaves you breathless, and you’re not sure if it’s the atmosphere around you, or the way that you’ve been feeling stranger and stranger around Haechan lately. Your eyes flit momentarily to the rings adorning his fingers, the ones that you’re used to seeing every day.

If there’s a saying about how distance makes the heart grow fonder, your attitude with Haechan might just be the opposite. Having to interact in close proximity daily for the past two weeks has made him more tolerable somehow, an acquaintance rather than a nemesis. He seems to have lightened up on the taunts as well, instead replacing them with sarcastic quips that aren’t directed at you and that elicit a laugh more often than not.

It reminds you of senior year, when the both of you had been working so closely for the student council. Haechan had been your partner and your equal then, his competition more of a motivation than a threat. But university had been a rat race with thousands of other brilliant minds that sought to outdo and outlearn, so individualistic that the both of you never did quite talk about the almost-friendship that had formed.

“I assume you know about Mr Kim’s intentions to promote one of us to partner next year,” you start, unsure of what else to say. It’s been something that presses at the back of your mind, even as you go for hot chocolate runs with Haechan and sit in the lounge room together to clear last-minute emails. “I hope you know that I’m not intending to give up.”

Haechan smiles. “I wouldn't expect anything less.”

“But…” you trail off slightly, and he leans forward, eyes curious. You decide just to bite the bullet, not leaving any room to reconsider.

“I think you’re good at what you do. And I think it would be easier for us to work together in the future if we weren’t constantly at each other’s necks.” Your voice gradually gets softer as you continue, but Haechan hears every word. He notices you worrying your lip and the faint set of your eyebrows, and realises that you’re nervous. It’s no secret that he finds certain habits of yours endearing, but this expression on you might be one of his favourites.

“Well, height-wise, you’re still at my neck.”

“You-”

“Kidding. So we’re friends now?” He has to bite back a laugh at your glare. You’re still so easy to rile up. “We can be anything you want to be,” you say nonchalantly.

Haechan knows that you don’t mean that literally, but he thinks about the possibilities anyways.

He wants to say more when Jisung appears, a bottle of red wine grasped in his hands. You look up from your bowl, confused. “Oh, we didn’t order red wine.”

At your protest, however, the boy smiles. “It’s on the house. Are the both of you celebrating anything? An anniversary or a birthday perhaps,” he suggests, and you shake your head. “We’re not…we’re not a couple.” You’re unsure why you stumble over your words, but Haechan seems to find it amusing from the way he’s coughing politely into his napkin.

Jisung blinks awkwardly, and you blink back. “Apologies for assuming. Enjoy your dinner,” he replies after a moment too long, rushing off after filling both of your glasses.

“I think we scared him off,” you say guiltily, and Haechan snickers. “He’ll be fine. To be fair, this is a dinner set for couples.”

“But we look nothing like a couple,” you interject, and there’s a flash of doubt that crosses Haechan’s face, before he quickly schools it into nothing. He takes a large gulp of the wine, before grinning at you.

“Of course. I’m too good-looking.”

It’s a blatant lie, of course. Haechan thinks you’re the prettiest person he’s ever seen, even when you had your thick-rimmed glasses in second grade and the most obnoxious blue braces. He’ll never have the courage to admit that, however, and Haechan’s starting to fear that his feelings are going to go unspoken forever.

This time, you manage to not oversleep.

The alarm goes off two hours before dinner, reminding you that it’s time to get ready. Your presents are already prepared at the corner of the bed and neatly wrapped, even though you know that your parents aren’t the kind to require excessive formality, and neither are Mr and Mrs Lee. You’re not sure about Haechan, if he’s remembered to prepare gifts. When you asked him at breakfast, he had evaded the question, which meant that he either had something prepared or was too embarrassed to admit that he had forgotten.

You’ve been waiting to wear this dress for a long time, a blush pink satin that’s pretty but comfortable enough for you to move around in. It’s been a long time since you’ve had the luxury of taking your time to get ready, considering you’re always cutting it close to sneak in extra sleep before work.

Despite your early preparations, however, the clock seems to tick much too fast. You’re tugging on your heels when there’s a sharp knock at the door. “Coming!” you shout, giving yourself one last look in the mirror before you pull the handle open.

“Oh, wow. You look…nice,” you say absentmindedly, only realising the words are too far gone to take back when a glimmer of satisfaction shows up on Haechan’s face. It’s not the first time you’ve seen him wearing a suit- attorneys practically live in a blazer and slacks, after all- but this one is all-black, the top two buttons of his blouse unbuttoned to reveal his collarbones. It makes his features even sharper, fabric contrasted against his warm, honey-toned skin.

You try not to think about how it’s the same exact material as your dress, and that people- namely your parents, would have assumed the both of you planned it beforehand.

Haechan’s appraising gaze makes warmth creep up your neck, and you shift from foot to foot, waiting for him to say something. Anything. “You clean up pretty well too. Ready for dinner?”

The both of you are friends, Y/N. Friends can compliment each other, you assure yourself, even as your pulse flutters uncontrollably at his words. He offers an arm out to you like a perfect gentleman, and you exhale shakily through your nose.

This dinner may be more difficult that you expect.

The both of you are guided to your table by a different waiter this time, Jisung nowhere in sight. Thankfully, there’s a much wider menu to choose from now, and your parents are splitting, offering a respite to Haechan’s wallet.

“Oh, I wanted to pass you your present first,” you say, retrieving the gift and placing it in front of Haechan. There’s excitement bubbling in your chest as you watch him arch an eyebrow curiously. “Open it,” you encourage, and he lifts up the cover, a surprised laugh escaping him.

“Where did you get this?” He asks, and you crinkle your forehead slightly. “I ordered it online, and I was scared it wouldn’t get delivered in time because of the snowstorm. Take it as a present from one vinyl collector to another.” Haechan breaks out into a brilliant grin at your words, one that illuminates his entire face. The corners of his mouth quirk up, however, when he places a velvet box on the table.

“You actually remembered to get a present? From your reaction at breakfast today, I thought…”

“You think too lowly of me,” he complains, poking his tongue into his cheek. Your eyes are bright, however, as you take the box from him, only realising that it’s velvet once you smooth your fingers over it. “This isn’t something scary, is it?” You question doubtfully, and he shrugs.

“You gave me fake insects half a decade ago, so forgive me if I’m not entirely trusting-” you fall silent when the box clicks open, revealing a pearl choker that you immediately recognize.

“Haechan, this-”

He barely reacts to your wide-mouthed shock. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.” The wish is sincere, and the way he says it makes your heart stretch just a little wider.

You can���t believe he remembers.

For prom, you had suggested a vintage 1980s theme, and Haechan had seen the Vivienne Westwood necklace sitting in your online cart along with the decorations. You never did purchase it because of the hefty price tag, and it was gradually forgotten.

Seeing the three rows of pearls in front of you now, however, brings on a wave of nostalgia.

“You should try it on. It matches nicely with your dress.” he offers, and you pick up the necklace from where it’s resting, hands shaking slightly as you close the clasp around your neck. “How does it look?” you ask, swallowing nervously as you focus back on Haechan, who has an unreadable expression on his face.

“Beautiful,” he mutters softly, but his eyes don’t dart down to your neck at all. You want to think that he’s lying. However, the way his eyes remain transfixed on your face as he says it has your pulse fluttering wildly.

There’s a lump in your throat as you fiddle with the necklace, feeling the cold of the pearls against your skin.

“I wanted to give it to you on the night of prom,” Haechan says then, a silent question in his eyes. The implication behind his words is heavy, considering that all you remember having with Haechan in senior year was a rivalry-turned-tentative-friendship by necessity.

Instead of the anger you expect it to provoke, the idea of him being the one fills you with a  certain nerve-wracking thrill, like the kind you get just before a rollercoaster drops.

“I wanted to go, you know. But something happened with my family, and I-”

“It’s okay, Y/N. We’re still here now, aren’t we?”

His question isn’t one that you need to reply to, because you know the answer.

Haechan is one of the people you know best in this world, besides your family. He thinks you’re a little too uptight sometimes, but you find him too aloof. That you’re not particularly extroverted, preferring to stick to a close circle of friends, while Haechan can talk to almost anyone and everyone. Until you forced yourself to make it to parties and meetings in order to beat him out in garnering votes from the student body. And then gradually, it became easier.

He’s always pushed you out of your comfort zone effortlessly, and you hate to admit it, but you wouldn’t have done this much if he hadn’t been right in step behind you.

In the end, the both of you boiled down to one similarity- pure ambition, the kind that pushed you to endure long hours and sleepless nights in order to get what you wanted.

Currently, the both of you are teetering on the edge of an invisible precipice, steps away from tumbling into wildly unfamiliar territory. And what terrifies you the most is that you don’t particularly seem to mind the idea of falling. Haechan has always been able to provoke reactions so easily from you, split-second impulsivities that make you lose control of your emotions.

You and him are not polar opposites, as much as you would like to think. Haechan just covers his with a veneer of casual confidence, while you would rather not be in the spotlight unless necessary.

“Haechan, if-” you start, and the look in his eyes when he hears you speak is so hopeful, so full of anticipation that it causes you to stop abruptly. He’s beautiful, you think. The slant of his cheekbones, the angle of his jaw- it’s no secret that Haechan is attractive by most conventional standards, but it’s the first time he’s rendering you speechless. You’ve never really been able to truly look at him, too focused on the imminent threat that his presence seemed to signify.

And now that it’s gone, you’re genuinely seeing Haechan for what he is. Your equal, and someone you’re hopelessly attracted to, for good reason.

Until the jolt of a chair yanks you out of whatever trance-like state you’re in, and you whip your head around to see Haechan’s father, along with the rest of your families.

“Sorry for the wait. What were you young people talking about?” He asks, and your mind blanks for a second.

How are you supposed to tell him that you think you might have feelings for his son, after fighting tooth-and-nail with him all these years?

You make eye contact with Haechan then, and there’s a silent promise in his gaze. The both of you will talk about whatever it is between you eventually. For now, you’re here to celebrate with the people you love most in the world.

Lee Haechan included, you suppose.

Hangovers are not a good look on Haechan.

At least, that’s his first thought when he wakes up, head heavy and throat dry. But he’s an adult now, and that means taking responsibility for his not-so-sober decisions.

By the time he takes a cold shower and brushes his teeth, it feels like some semblance of life has returned to him, and he uses the thought of breakfast as motivation to get dressed and head down. It’s a petty sort of consolation that everyone else will probably be feeling worse than him, you included.

He makes a direct beeline for the hot food, piling a plate with bacon and eggs. And then he reaches the drink section, pausing for a second. “What did she say she liked again?” he mutters, staring at the juices with two cups in hand.

When he reaches the table, there are soft ‘good mornings’ from everyone, and Haechan takes the seat opposite yours, smiling brightly. “Here. I wasn’t sure which one you might want, so I got both,” he says, setting the drinks down in front of you. One’s a cappuccino, and the other cranberry juice.

You blink tiredly, looking up at him in mild surprise. “Thank you,” you mumble softly, before returning to your food.

He frowns. Haechan’s seen you hungover before, and it’s usually not like this. And he’s quite sure you didn’t drink as much as him, considering you weren’t the hugest fan of alcohol. It would be wiser for Haechan to leave you alone to rest- after all, you did say thank you, so surely nothing’s wrong.

However, he wouldn’t be him if he didn’t get to the bottom of things.

“Are you feeling unwell? There’s hangover medicine in my luggage, I can pass you some-”

“Nope, I’m good.”

“How about ramen? We can make some later,” he prompts, watching your expression carefully. You shake your head, and Haechan tries not to look too shocked.

“But it’s ramen,” he continues, expectation evident in his gaze. Haechan knows you. You would never turn down an offer of your favourite food.

“I’ll pass this time,” you reply, shifting uncomfortably in your chair. He falls silent, watching as you pick at the rest of your food.

When you stand up, the sound of the chair scraping seems a little bit too sharp. “I’ll head back first. I forgot about something,” you explain, turning on your heel. Haechan’s eyes dart to the untouched drinks, before they meet your mother’s gaze. He wipes the corner of his mouth hastily with the napkin, before rising as well. “I’ll go find Y/N,” he declares.

Thankfully, the hotel isn’t too crowded at this time, and he spots you just in time. When Haechan skids to a stop in front of you, your hands are around your jacket, pulling it tight around you.

“Hey,” he greets, breathless. You look taken aback, and Haechan runs a hand through his hair, pausing to collect his thoughts. “Are you…I might just be stupid, but are you okay? You seemed a little off at breakfast,” he points out, watching as the emotions on your face change from shock to doubt to…hurt?

“Do you remember what happened yesterday?” You ask, a tremor in your voice as you peer at the boy.

Haechan frantically scans through his memories, heart dropping when it comes up empty. He was talking to his father about football, and then your mother brought up memories from when the both of you were in elementary, causing everyone at the table to laugh.

Anything that happened after the fourth cocktail was a blur.

He pulls himself out of his thoughts to focus on you, shaking his head. Haechan’s eyes are wide as he stares at you. “Nothing out of the ordinary,” he mutters, watching as you nibble on your lip nervously, before sighing. “Come with me,” you instruct, before grabbing Haechan’s wrist and dragging him to a quieter part of the lobby.

You’re standing in front of him, fiddling with your fingers, and Haechan can tell you’re thinking of what to say. “If I did something stupid, you can tell me,” he assures, and the glance you give him is disbelieving. However, the dark clouds in your expression have cleared a little.

“No, it wasn’t stupid, I just have no idea if it was some sort of joke or if you meant it-” you trail off, looking distraught. Haechan becomes alert at the mention of that, his heartbeat picking up slightly. “Y/N, what did I say?”

You’re never one to beat about the bush, and the way you keep hesitating has him nervous.

“You said you liked me,” you finally answer, and Haechan’s world stops.

The memories flood back into his brain a few moments too late. Your parents choosing to rest early, Haechan saying he wanted to stay on a little more-

Oh God.

“It’s three am, Donghyuck. You’re going to wake everyone up,” you scolded, but there was a grin on your face. He had been singing some ridiculous rendition of a carol at top volume, causing you to look away, embarrassed. The staff working the graveyard shift had barely even batted an eye at his antics.

“Huh. You’ve never called me Donghyuck before,” Haechan noticed, blinking slowly. The alcohol was really getting to his brain now, making it foggy. It’s nice, having you call him a name that’s solely reserved for close friends and family. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to,” you say, looking caught.

“Of course you can. We’re close.” Haechan tries not to coo when he sees your cheeks warm slightly, and you find yourself unable to meet his gaze, instead focusing on getting to the correct hotel room.

Just as you pull out the keycard, you feel someone come up right next to you, and you look up in alarm. “Is something wrong?” Haechan shakes his head, leaning down towards you. He’s not sure whether you’re one for physical affection, but he can’t help himself when he pinches your cheeks gently.

“Hae- Donghyuck, what are you doing?” You’re confused at his sudden movements, but you don’t pull away, even as he comes closer. Haechan blinks slowly, your face swimming in and out of his vision.

“You’re adorable, you know that? Sometimes I don’t know what to do with you. But you’re also mean to me sometimes,” Haechan whines out, and you’re equal parts flustered and amused by him. “You- you really need to get to bed,” you say once you’ve collected your thoughts, pushing him in the direction of his room.

He’s not sure if it’s the alcohol, but there are words fighting to escape, and Haechan rather not think about the consequences when he has you in front of him, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. You look pretty like this, and you’ve never let him get this close to you before.

It makes him brave.

Which is why he presses his feet into the carpet to prevent himself from moving, turning around sharply to face you again. He’s determined now, looking at you with a certain sharpness in his eyes that makes your pulse unsteady.

“I like you, Y/N. A lot. I’ve liked you for eight years, and I thought you would figure it out by now, or at least look my way, but-” he hiccups slightly, “you haven’t. Is it because I’m annoying?”

Haechan doesn’t remember what your answer was to that question because he might have fallen asleep on his feet then, and quite frankly, he’s terrified to find out.

“Oh.”

The statement makes it obvious that he remembers everything now, and your eyes widen in incredulity. “Is that all you have to say?” you ask, and Haechan feels like he’s at a crossroads.

Renjun would definitely laugh at him for this.

But Renjun would also tell him to be honest, considering the secret is already out. It’ll be awkward no matter what he does.

Haechan might as well give it a shot. He was too scared in senior year, but he’s less fearful now.

“I wasn’t joking,” he starts, swallowing nervously before looking at you.

“I liked you in junior year, so much that I joined the student council for you. And since then, I’ve just been waiting, and waiting, but I’m not sure how much longer I can go-”

Haechan gets cut off when the collar of his hoodie is jerked forward, allowing him to finally meet your height. There’s a look of exasperation on your face, and Haechan’s not entirely sure what that means in the context of him confessing his feelings. Maybe you’ve decided you’ve had enough of him, and you’re going to leave his dead body to be found once the snow melts.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?”

There’s relief that fills him at the lack of murderous intent in your voice, but he doesn't get a chance to respond before you’re tiptoeing and closing the distance between the both of you.

It takes Haechan a few moments too long to register that you’re kissing him before he reciprocates in equal measure. He feels like his heart might burst from the way you’re holding onto him, as if the both of you are the only ones existing at this moment.

When you finally let go of his hoodie, the plain disappointment on Haechan’s face causes you to let out a giggle.

He shakes his head slightly in an attempt to clear it, before looking at you. “Can we do that again?” His question earns him a swat on the back, but you don’t resist when Haechan loops his arms around your waist.

It’s only his second time kissing you, but Haechan’s quite sure there aren’t many feelings that can compare to this.

He might just get hooked on it.

“I can’t believe the holiday’s over,” you sigh, sinking into the armchair. Your luggage is next to you, Haechan looking down with a bemused expression on his face. “Doesn’t this happen every year? Just wait another three hundred and sixty-five days.”

From where you’re seated, you’re not able to reach Haechan’s waist, so you settle for hitting him on the thigh. He looks at you indignantly, but whatever retort he has dies on his tongue when your father calls for the both of you to get into the car.

It’s only when the both of you are comfortably seated at the very back, that Haechan leans over, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“You’re not going to get scared on the plane again, are you?” He asks, and you narrow your eyes.

As much as he jokes about it, Haechan was also the one who offered his hand to you on the flight here. “Whatever,” you mutter. “Just hold my hand now.”

You don’t give Haechan time to interject before you intertwine his fingers with yours, missing the way a blush settles at the back of his neck. He forgets that you’re occasionally imbued with bursts of confidence, allowing you to act in ways that have his heart thundering in his chest.

When he finally looks over again, you’re leaning against the side, appreciating the scenery that drifts by. A smile makes its way onto his face subconsciously, and Haechan’s grip on your hand grows imperceptibly tighter.

You’re the best Christmas present he could have asked for.

[thescarletnargacuga]

Here’s a little idea! Any version of showtime you’d like, they try to keep their relationship more of a secret at first (maybe because pomni doesn’t want to be in the spotlight or they don’t want there to be suspected favoritism, etc) and think they’re doing a good job at it, but they’re so obvious about how lovey they are to each other that everyone else caught on a long time ago haha

A/N: ANY version, you say? MANGO, GET IN HERE!!

WORST KEPT SECRET

A TIME CAPSULE AU SHOWTIME ONESHOT

AU credit: @mangotangerinepastry @the-amazing-digital-time-capsule

WARNING: making out, mild angst

~~~

Caine held Pomni close in the dark confines of a janitorial closet. The guests were away for the day and they simply needed a moment to themselves from the prying eyes of the overlording AI and the other cast members. Feeling her heartbeat with his, her lips against his teeth, her hair between his fingers was what was needed, but he also felt the tug of the invisible red strings on his fingers, warning him to keep this quiet.

Pomni wrapped her arms tight around Caine, holding him to her as she kissed his teeth fervently. The world beyond the closet door vanished from her mind. She could just be here in this moment with him. A brief moment of bliss within the eternal servitude to the capsule.

They broke the kiss and embraced in silence, breathing each other in...and the closet of cleaning supplies. Pomni took a deep breath against Caine's neck and sighed. "I wish we could stay here..."

"Me too." Caine rubbed Pomni's back soothingly. "But you know what will happen if we do." His fingers twitched against the tug of the strings.

"I'm grateful for the moments we do get to have, no matter how brief." Pomni gazed into Caine's eyes and caressed the side of his lower jaw. "You're worth suffering this place for."

Caine leaned into her touch and held her hand on his jaw. "I'm really not-"

"Shush. We're not having that conversation again. Not here. You're worth my time. Accept that."

Caine closed his eyes and resigned to Pomni's stubborn insistence. "I don't deserve you."

"I decide who deserves me." Pomni retorted and gave him one more kiss. "I'll give you a minute to get down the hall before I leave."

Caine reluctantly let go of Pomni and peaked out the closet door. Seeing no one, he gave Pomni one last longing look before backing out of the closet.

"Caine? What are you doing here?"

Caine about jumped out of his skin. He spun around and stood as innocently as he could in front of the door. "Oh! Hello, Zooble. Sorry, I didn't see you there. What- uh, brings you here at this time of evening?"

"uh....cleaning? Like every night?" Zooble drolled.

Caine started to sweat. Time must've gotten away from him, because he and Pomni are normally gone long before anyone comes by. "Right! Cleaning. Of course." The door started to crack open behind him and he leaned against it, slamming it shut.

Pomni was knocked back and grabbed a shelf, making a few cans and bottles rattle loudly.

Caine coughed. "Door's a bit loose. Anyway, sorry to be in your way. I was just looking for something I misplaced. But it's HIDE-ing rather well from me."

Pomni heard Caine's enunciation and spun in place, looking for a corner to hide in. She dove into a bin and closed the lid.

Zooble arched a mechanical brow. "O...kay...so, you gonna get out of my way or..?"

Caine swallowed and stepped aside. "Yes, I have business elsewhere. Have a good evening." He put his hands behind his back and walked away as casually as he could, but there was a definite urgency in his pace to get away.

Zooble went into the janitorial closet without another word. They collected cleaning supplies and a mop. One of the cans of cleaning solution was empty and they lifted the corner of the bin lid just enough to toss the can in.

The can bonked Pomni in the head and she let out an involuntary "ow".

Zooble froze, knowing damn well what they just heard. They quietly check the radar in their abdomen. There was a blip next to theirs on screen. Pomni's blip. Zooble finished what they were doing and left the closet.

Pomni waited for several minutes before finally peeking out from the bin. She slowly and carefully made her way out the door and down the hall, covered in drips of cleaning solution.

Zooble chuckled to themselves as they watched Pomni's blip scurry away.

~different day~

Kinger poured a drink for himself and Caine. They occasionally got together for a chat, being close friends as they were in the Capsule's longest running cast members. For now.

Kinger stood behind his bar and leaned on it casually. Caine sat on a bar stool, nursing the old fashioned poured for him. "Thank you, Kinger. I've needed this."

Kinger shrugged, sipping his own drink. "The ringmaster's drinks are on the house. Enjoy." As he put his drink back down, something caught his eye. An out of place spot on Caine's collar. The ringmaster was typically immaculate with his appearance, as expected of him. It was a faded blotch of pink.

Kinger pointed to the spot. "Hey, uh, you got something on your shirt there."

"Hm?" Caine struggled to see something right under his jaw. "What is it?"

"Makeup."

Caine's blood went cold. "Oh, that...I must've gotten some on my hands and rubbed it off by mistake. Stage makeup gets everywhere during prep."

"You don't wear makeup." Kinger gave Caine a look. "Whose is it?" He'd smirk if he had a mouth.

"No one's." Caine said curtly. "For your information, I do handle makeup. It's an art form." While he personally agreed that makeup is an art, he was bluffing about doing it for the performers.

"So Pomni or Gangle." Kinger deduced. "Gangle prefers to do her own."

Caine gripped his glass a little tighter. "How are you so sure?"

"You'd be surprised what people tell the bartender." Kinger stood upright and downed his drink so he could continue cleaning and prepping for the next day. "I'm good with secrets, Caine."

Caine didn't respond. He only eyed a panel behind the bar that hid a stash of strong liquor reserved for him.

~different day~

Gangle and Pomni were getting ready for bed in their shared dressing room. Before putting her day's performance clothes in the laundry, Pomni took a long sniff of her coat. Sometimes, after her rendezvous with Caine, she could still smell his cologne.

Gangle saw Pomni so that while she was washing her face at her vanity. "Why do you keep doing that?"

Pomni quickly dropped the jester into the laundry and started anxiously brushing out her hair. "No real reason. Just uh, checking for any bad smells. Don't want to stink up the room." She forces a laugh.

Gangle narrowed her eyes in the mirror. "You must really enjoy bad smells. You had such an... interesting look on your face."

"It's nothing, really!" Pomni brushed faster. "Sorry, for being weird. It's just something I do." She really thought she was being subtle about it.

Gangle dropped it for now. She waited until after lights out and she heard Pomni breathing low and deep to get back up and sneak to the laundry basket. She lifted out Pomni's coat and sniffed the collar. She almost gasped out loud.

She dropped the coat and went back to bed with a mischievous smile on her face.

~different day~

Jax groaned as the joystick control over him released for the day. "Ugh, my aching back." He stretched. "Stupid kids and their stupid motor skills. They jerked me around like a ragdoll." He spotted Ragatha locking up the day care center for the night. He grinned. "Speaking of..."

Ragatha turned and bumped right into Jax. "Pardon- oh, hello Jax." She gave him a polite smile.

Jax wrapped an arm over Ragatha's shoulders and walked with her. "What's up, dollface. You throw any nasty kids out the window today?"

Ragatha gasped. "Absolutely not! I would never!" She looked around, hoping no guests were still around the circus to overhear.

Jax chuckled, speaking louder. "Of course you would! Anyone dealing with those snot-nosed brats would in a heartbeat!"

"Jax!" Ragatha stopped and was about to start lecturing him when a door opening at the end of the hallway got her attention. It was Pomni, straightening her jester coat and then walking away down another hallway that T-ed at the far end.

Once alone again to start her rant, Ragatha took a breath only to be interrupted again by the same door opening. Caine came out with an unusually bright smile on his face, and he went the other way at the T junction.

Jax smiled broader than he had in ages. "Holy [%$!$]." He didn't care if BUBLE got on to him about it later. This was a moment worth swearing for.

"Now, Jax, don't. We don't know what's in that room."

"Pretty sure that's an empty party room." Jax's smile was as strong as ever. "I gotta hand it to the old timer, scoring Pomni couldn't have been easy."

"Old- WE DON'T AGE!" Ragatha blustered. "And we don't know what we just saw. It doesn't mean anything."

"Denial isn't just a river in Egypt, dollface. This is too good." Jax rubbed his hands together.

Ragatha frowned. "Don't be mean. We're all just looking for a bit of happiness. Let them have theirs."

~different day~

Gangle and Ragatha met up after work. "I know something!" They said at the same time.

"You do? What do you know?" Ragatha asked.

"Wait, you know something?" Gangle asked back.

"Yeah, but is it the thing that you know?"

"I don't know? It might be."

"Jester Dentures?"

"Jeater Dentures!!" The girls squealed and giggled with each other.

Pomni started to notice the others looking at her differently, like they wanted to say something but would turn away or have something sudden to do if she even looked at them.

Anytime Pomni spoke to Caine in front of the others, they got weird. The stares got more intense, yet they backed off like she needed space to give her performance report to the ringmaster.

Caine noticed too. Not just from the odd behavior but Kinger and Jax both getting on his case about Pomni and how he wasn't being as subtle as he thought. It made cast meetings awkward. He could actually feel his face heat up if the others watched Pomni smile at him in meetings.

~different day~

Caine FINALLY got Pomni truly alone again after asking her to meet him in the piano room backstage in the middle of the night. He could play one key at a time without the strings trying to break his fingers, so that's what he did as he waited.

Pomni sat next to Caine on the bench seat and touched her shoulder to his. "Everyone knows."

"Yep." Caine dinged a C note.

"I thought we were careful."

"Apparently not careful enough."

Pomni watched him slowly play moonlight sonata one note at a time. "Does this mean you don't want to see me anymore?"

Caine stopped. "No. It means we need to be even more careful. Our behavior has disrupted the cast. Not so much as to affect their jobs, but BUBLE has taken notice and...given me a warning." He flexed his sore hand.

Pomni put her hand over his on the piano keys. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You're worth whatever that thing puts me through."

"Now it's my turn to say I'm not worth that." Pomni cringed thinking of what BUBLE would do if things escalated.

"I've done a lot of stupid things in my time, Pomni. Seen a lot of places. Met a lot of people. I think I have a pretty good grasp on what holds value in this world." Caine turned his head to look at her.

Pomni met his gaze expectantly.

Caine continued. "To exist is to suffer. To find meaning in the suffering is to live. You are a part of that meaning to me. I've found so much more than camaraderie or friendship in you. I found..." The word caught in his throat. The red string around his neck tightening.

"You don't have to say it." Pomni leaned in. "I found it too. In you."

Caine leaned his top jaw to her forehead and closed his eyes. Pomni interlaced her fingers with his on the piano and closed her eyes too.

[infpravenclaw5w4idkwhatelse]

Apparently its just in my brain rn but I wanted to make this list for me or for anyone out there who gets into editing before I do (pleas please please idk how to edit and unless I hyper fixate hard enough, I probably won’t take the time to learn lmao) but anyway this is a list of the Robins and songs (by Taylor Swift so there’s a theme and the list has a finite end) that I desperately need an edit of them with.

Stephanie brown- the man (literally can’t hear the song without thinking of her), mad woman (I can see this with interspersed scenes of her father, fighting villains specifically black mask, and Bruce)

Jason Todd- my tears ricochet (absolutely devastating w/ under the red hood, specifically comic version iykyk the difference between that and the movie), haunted (I need this with Bruce and dick and Tim’s reaction to his death), bigger than the whole sky (similar to haunted but more resigned? And still more about characters responding to his death but still His Death), who’s afraid of little old me (red hood transitional period. You see the vision? I know you do.) look what you made me do (obviously. I keep imagining him listening to this song while being the red hood and it’s great), the Great War (just. The imagery. There’s so much potential here. “maybe it’s the past that’s talking, screaming from the crypt, telling me to punish you for things you never did” with a cut to Batman and Joker would go so hard)

Dick Grayson (there’s really no order to this list is there? Lol anyway.)- never grow up (focused on his relationships with his siblings and then after the bridge with the “wish I’d never grown up” with flashbacks to him as Robin oh my god I’d cry), 22 (idk it feels very early Nightwing to me. I need a happy one for him bc he deserves it. Just an edit of him winning and being iconic), New Romantics (in that same vein, with the titans because it’d be fun), the story of us and I forgot that you existed (him and B fighting because I feel people ignore that they do fight quite often and IFTYE especially feels the right amount of petty and sincere for him, you know?), last but not least (can you tell I love him) Style (this and any love interest he repeatedly dates, I was thinking specifically Barbara but I could also see kory, I just think this song is fun for any relationship that gets rebooted in multiple formats)

Tim Drake- enchanted (as itty bitty Tim Drake or Robin, meeting them at galas and Knowing or just working with the bats in the beginning when he was star struck), mirrorball (“I can change everything about me to fit in” …yeah. This is more a fanon interpretation but I read a really interesting fic where Jason comes back and meets Tim and all he can see is his and dick’s Robin mannerisms in him, and can’t find anything that’s just Tim’s until he’s too tired to pretend anymore and it’s stuck with me) you’re losing me (this would be a sad one of people generally looking over or hating him, specifically Bruce calling him Jason, finding out dick made Damian Robin, Damian and Jason verbally attacking him, the events that led to Red Robin) Tis the damn season (for when Red Robin arc is over and he’s still angry but doesn’t know what else to do)

Damian Wayne: a place in this world (it’s not his aesthetic, but the themes of the song are very raised-in-the-league-trying-to-be-a-functioning-family-member), the best day (with him and Dick generally him getting to be a kid, I’m not crying you are), mean (I think the “swords and weapons that you use against me”would be funny with him drawing assorted weapons on people), Innocent (“your string of lights is still bright to me oh, who you are is not where you’ve been” oh my god. I just feel like he needs someone to mean this about him) exile (Talia leaving him, even if she meant to do it for his own good, having to recon with not being in the league anymore), this is me trying (I don’t have words for this one, it’s a vibe)

Bonus:

Anti-hero: you can give all of them different verses that fit best, but I think they’d all sing the song and feel like it was them and I’d love to see an edit of them to it.

Epiphany: Alfred. You don’t even have to listen to it, just look at the lyrics and you’ll Get It.

robin: this I see for both Jason and Dick, so probably split between them.

Mastermind: first off, shameless TimSteph shipper, not even necessarily romantically, it’s just that they’re soulmates and I don’t care what canon says; I know that because they told me personally. Anyway the song is from both of their perspectives. They both think they’re the mastermind

State of Grace: also TimSteph. Fight me.