#and then at the end there was a comma then ‘’he shot two people’’

[tccconfessions2hear]

The school shooter in sweden is lwk ugly and just looking at him scares me but he’s also kinda cute in a way but maybe im going crazy

CONFESSION 788

[athenagc94]

Dear Daddy Long Legs - Chapter 5

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Also posting on AO3 which you can find here.

Might have to take a few days off so I can catch up on some writing. I am very happy with the direction this story is taking. (If you couldn't tell, this is more of a slow burn piece because I can't imagine Jason as anything but someone who yearns.)

TW: Minor depictions of violence

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Chapter 5

You dropped your letter off the following morning before heading to your first class of the day. The first two weeks at Gotham University passed in a blur as you tried to orient yourself. You liked school when you were a kid. It distracted you from the harsh realities of the world. College was a different beast entirely, especially one as prestigious as this.

It was hard not to feel othered here. Other students came from old families, ones with money and prestige. You recognized some of their faces from interviews or social media. It was their seats that went vacant in class. They had nothing to prove. There were no consequences when you had money to throw at a problem.

You settled in your seat of your history class. From Goddesses to Witches: An Overview of Women’s History. With a title like that, how could you not sign up for it? There were a lot of cool classes here, and you wanted to take them all, but there were only so many hours in the day.

The blonde who usually sat on your right had already arrived. Her purple hoodie was branded with the University logo, though you don’t recall the school store selling purple apparel. She offered a friendly smile as you sat. You failed to return it as you sifted through your bag.

Sure, you wanted to make friends. It would be nice to find like-minded people who liked to discuss classic literature and the relevance of the oxford comma, but you weren’t entirely sure where to start.

Returning a smile might have been a smart move, but the moment had passed. Your table mate shifted her attention to her phone, so you decided to do the same.

A text awaited you from your manager: Rosa quit last night. I need you to come in tomorrow night to cover a party.

You suppressed a groan. Seriously? Rosa had wanted to quit for a while, but now it fell to you to pick up the slack. You shot back a quick text though you knew it wouldn’t make a difference: I have a night class.

Bubbles appeared instantly.

Shit.

His response was exactly what you expected: I wouldn’t be asking if we had options. I hired two new waiters that need a veteran to show them the ropes. You’re the best I have.

Flattery would get him nowhere, but you’d be stupid to turn down an extra shift—especially as an event lead. That role usually went to Rosa who had a kid to consider. Now, the title would shift to you, and the boost to your salary would reflect it.

With a defeated sigh, you replied: I’ll be there.

I’ll send you the details tonight. You’re a lifesaver, he shot back.

Hardly, but you weren’t about to argue. This decision was entirely selfish on your part. If you did this, you’d have a valid argument to ask for Christmas off in a few months.

Your professor arrived and class began. As she talked about your assigned reading, which you’d already finished and annotated the night prior, your mind wandered as you considered your options. Skipping one class wasn’t the end of the world. It was a philosophy class that didn’t count toward your major, but allowing this set a dangerous precedent. Your boss got what he wanted this time. What would stop him from trying again?

Some students might get away with skipping class, but you weren’t one of them.

Glancing back at the blonde, you noticed meticulous notes she’d started in glittery purple ink. She was also in your philosophy class, though you didn’t sit next to each other.

In hindsight, maybe you should have returned that smile.

Your fingers drummed the table. It’s not like you were asking for a lot if she was already taking notes. She might be cool to talk to, to hang out with. Friendships had blossomed for less.

Or maybe you were asking for too much?

Ask for notes and leave things there. After years of doing things for yourself, it felt like cheating to rely on the kindness of a stranger like this. Not to mention, you were a little rusty at making new friends. The ones you had came from work and the shared trauma of working in catering.

Do you even know how to make friends?

You warred with your pride until the professor dismissed you. The blonde hopped out of her chair, swung her bag over her shoulder in one fluid motion, and hurried out before you mustered the courage to speak. You were moving before you realized it, abandoning your bag to hurry after her.

“Hey! You in the purple. Wait up.”

It wasn’t the best identifier, but she stopped anyway, peering over her shoulder. Her surprise gave way to something friendlier as she grinned. “That’s me.”

You approached, your heart pounding. “So, I hate to ask this, but I got called into work tomorrow night. Since you’re in my philosophy class, I was wondering if you could take notes for me?”

“Yeah, no problem,” she said as she pulled out her phone, “What’s your number? I can text you a picture of them once class let’s out tomorrow night.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary. I can just grab them when I see—”

“Don’t sweat it. Professor Edwin is an ass. He failed me last year because I slept through our final exam and refused to let me retake it for partial credit. Like, come on man, it’s not my fault I overslept. I’m not going to let anyone fall victim to his shit if I can help it.”

How did that make him an ass? You almost asked, but she shoved her phone in your face and continued, “I’m Steph, by the way. Pre-med.”

You introduced yourself as you punched your number into her phone. “Writing and Classics,” you offered as you handed her phone back.

“Radical.” She gave you a quick once over. “I’m thinking red.”

“Huh?”

“That’s what color I’ll write the notes in. Something about your aura just screams it, ya know?”

You did not. “Black ink is fine too.”

Steph looked at you like you had just suggested slaughtering a small child instead. “Absolutely not. Why would I do that when the world is such a colorful place? I know we live in Gotham, but that doesn’t mean we have to abstain from happiness.” Her phone beeped in her hand, and she gasped. “Crap, I gotta get to class, but I’ll send you a text later.” She hurried off, leaving you to stare after her in disbelief.

Huh.

Maybe making friends was easier than you thought.

***

Your manager failed to mention the party was at Wayne Manor.

Deep down, you knew it didn’t matter. You had catered dozens of his parties over the years, but that was before you accepted his money like a sellout. How working for him was any different, well, you weren’t exactly sure—it just was.

Anxiety bubbled in your belly as you lit the food warmers on the banquet table along the far wall of the sitting room. Every so often, you’d glance over your shoulder like you expected Bruce Wayne to step out of the shadows and yell at you for skipping class.

This was stupid. Bruce Wayne had no idea who you were beyond a name on an application. He didn’t care that you skipped class. Students skipped all the time. Hell, your first letter probably hadn’t even reached his desk.

Still, a small part of you disliked the power he had over you.

“Excuse me.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin as you whipped around to face the elderly butler who’d let you in that evening to set up. He quirked a wispy eyebrow, almost amused.

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to frighten you. Master Wayne asked me to check in with your team to ensure you have everything you require.”

Heat bloomed in your cheeks as you tucked your lighter away. “I’m good on the food end, but I should check with our bartender to make sure. How many guests are we expecting again?”

“Fifty, ma’am.”

“Perfect. I’ll be right back.”

This was a more intimate affair than what you were used to, but intimate usually meant easy.

You tasked the new hires with preparing platters of hors d’oeuvres in the kitchen. They arrived in ill-fitting uniforms and messily knotted hair. They also seemed more interested in their phones than listening to you. If they made it through tonight, you’d be impressed.

Catering was lucrative, especially when the owner never turned a job down. Not a single one, even if the client was far from reputable. Staff turnover was unreal because of it, but you didn’t mind if you got paid at the end of the night (and the mob paid very well for discretion). You had a rule. Keep your head down and do your job. People largely ignored you as long as you did.

It was the same here, among the Gotham elite. No one looked at your face or bothered to learn your name.

You ducked inside the kitchen where Mark, the bartender, sorted through a crate of liquor. Several platters of half-finished hors d’oeuvres sat on the counter, but the new hires had disappeared.

Your eye twitched. “Where are they?”

Mark looked up from his crate. A few strands of strawberry blonde hair fell into his eyes. He ran his fingers through his hair and held the pose to show off the carve of his bicep. It was a well-practiced motion that made the ladies swoon. You have been one of those ladies before you learned he used that move on everyone.

“They mentioned a smoke break and left out the back.”

You scoffed. “Great.”

“Starting to feel a little sympathy for Rose, aren’t ya?”

“Shut up.” You crossed the room to lay out the platters yourself. “Do you need anything? The butler asked.”

Mark whistled softly. “I wish I was rich enough to have a butler.”

“Who knows? You might finally get a sugar momma if you play your cards right.”

“That’s the goal. You could find yourself a sugar daddy if you tried.”

“Hard pass.” You’d accepted enough charity in your life. No one but the Red Hood knew about the scholarship, and you wanted to keep it that way. Accepting handouts went against your morals, and you didn’t want people calling you a hypocrite—even that was exactly what you were.

“I should go track those assholes down,” you grumbled as you finished one of the platters, “I don’t think they’ll last an hour.”

Mark snorted. “Have a little more faith. I bet they can make it to the end of the night.”

You wiped your palms off on the front of your apron. “I don’t bet on anything.”

“Lame.”

You left out the back door to search for your servers. What were their names again? Brian and Jon? That sounded right, but if it was wrong, you weren’t going to feel bad about it. They had spoken less than a dozen words to you since arriving at the manor. You rounded the corner to find one of them with a burning cigarette hanging from his lips.

“Where the other one?”

Jon/Brian (you couldn’t be pressed to tell them apart) glanced up from his phone, his blatant disregard for the job palpable. “Brendan took a lap to stretch his legs.”

Brendan. Fine. Brendan and Jon.

“He’ll have a chance to stretch his legs once the party begins. Find him and get your asses back inside.”

“Bitch,” he grunted as he flicked his cigarette at her feet. He stalked off to find Brendan.

Men, you seethed to yourself as you stomped out his cigarette.

At least Rosa was fun to talk to. That and she made sopaipillas for your birthday. Shame she had to go and quit on you.

You returned to the kitchen as the butler stepped inside. He noted the half-finished platters with an unimpressed sniff. “Would you like some help? Our guests are due to arrive any minute.”

Your shoulders sagged. “Yeah, that would be great.”

An hour later, the party was in full swing, and you were counting down the hours before you could go home and work on your readings for class. You wove through the guests with a full platter of bacon-wrapped water chestnuts balanced in one hand. Some people grabbed them before you had a chance to offer, while others waited for you to present them with a vacant smile and a pleasant, “Would you like one?”

It was automatic at this point. You didn’t think. Jon and Brendan on the other hand…

You searched for them in the crowd, but it was difficult with all the bodies crammed in one room. Fifty people were just shy of too many people for the spacious sitting room, but no one else seemed to mind. You shared a look with Mark, who mixed drinks at the bar in the corner.

You motioned to the crowd, and he shrugged, already guessing your question. He hadn’t seen them either.

Perfect.

Your boss would have hell to pay in the morning because this was ridiculous.

A man knocked into your shoulder as he passed, nearly spilling your platter in the process. You swore as dove to save it. As you did, your attention snagged on familiar tattoo that painted the guest’s knuckles a deep crimson. You’d seen it before, but only ever on the east side and when you did, you knew it was time to run the other way.

A member of the Blood Knuckles—here at Wayne Manor.

Your mind raced as you made a beeline for the bar. Mark passed a glass of red wine to a woman with flushed cheeks. She giggled at nothing as she dropped a crisp twenty in his tip jar.

When she stumbled off to join her partner, you set your platter down and said, “Head back to the kitchen.”

His brow furrowed. “What?”

“Just do it. I can explain everything later. I need to find the—”

A shot went off behind you. Screams rippled through the crowd as you hit the ground. The Blood Knuckle stood with his back to you. He raised his gun to the ceiling, shards of crystal raining down from the chandelier. Three more men removed guns from their waistbands, each donning the brand of their gang.

 Bruce Wayne stood near the fireplace, a trembling hand raised as if he were soothing a wild beast. He wore his usual black on black, his jaw set with a severe expression as he stared the gun down its barrel. “Woah there,” he said as he tucked a younger boy behind his back, “We don’t want any trouble.”

“Neither do we. Well, not with most of you anyway.” He turned his attention to but an aging man in the corner with thinning hair. “Oscar Franz, our boss has business with you.”

Oscar staggered back, the color leeching from his face. “W-Who sent you?”

“Oh, I don’t kill and tell.” He leveled the gun at him. “But we have a few questions first.”

Your ears rang as you scanned the room, weighing your options. If only you’d noticed sooner, you might have gotten Mark and you out of the room before the Blood Knuckles revealed themselves. They usually kept to their territory, so seeing them this far outside of East Gotham unsettled you. They weren’t usually hitmen, and you weren’t too keen to watch a man die before your eyes tonight.

Slowly, you got to your feet and used one hand to flip your platter. It clattered noisily to the ground, drawing the attention away from the target. The hitman locked eyes with you, and you recognized him instantly.

Brendan—now dressed in a tuxedo to blend in with the guests. How had you missed the tattoo before? Did you even get a good look at his hands?

Your manager would hire gang members by accident. To think, you could have been having a deep philosophical discussion about morality and the error of humanity instead. Now, you had to face the reality of your morality as he trained the gun on you.

A laugh bubbled in your throat as you lifted your hands, feigning innocence. And here you thought he was just a shitty server. This made a lot more s—

You sensed someone behind, but it was too late. Jon cracked the butt of his gun on the back of your head and the world went dark.

[deansapplepie]

Till THE DEAD do us part | Chapter 1

A/N: This story will take place in all the seasons, but it’s not exactly a rewriting cause I’d have to re-watch everything to use the exactly lines of the characters, also I think it’s better if I tell a side story without changing the main facts of the story. I’m not good with synopses, so sorry about that.

This story has a Female Reader, but I don’t describe her appearance, so anyone can identify with her.

Summary: Y/N Grimes is Rick’s younger sister, when the world ended she had Lori, Carl and Shane. But did she really have them? Her brother was dead, her sister-in-law was sleeping with her brother’s best friend and her nephew was just a small kid. She had him, Daryl Dixon was no knight in a shining armor and she was no damsel in distress, but maybe they were exactly what each other needed.

*gif is not mine, credits on the gif.

Chapter 1: Vulnerable

Summary: Y/N sees something she wasn’t supposed to see, she need to vent about it but she can’t do it with Lori or Shane, because they are the main reason about it. So she goes to the woods hoping to find some peace.

Warnings: mentions of sex, swearing, kinda angsty, a little bit of fluffy, comfort, mentions of death, mentions of violence

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Grimes!Reader

Word Count: 2,072

Extra notes: I proofread the text, but English is not my first language, so feel free to correct any mistakes, of course with a lot of love.

Chapter 2

It was again one more boiling hot day in the Quarry near Atlanta, you thought the temperature would for sure kill you, but there was another thing threatening to take your life and it wasn’t a Zombie.

Before everything, before the world ended, life wasn’t easy. You wanted it to be, but you were living one of the worst moments of your life. You had just lost your job as a vet because you couldn’t save a rich man’s cat and he demanded that you were fired. You felt bad for the poor cat, for your lost job, for your name as a professional that was now forever marked and also for your dog a female German Shepherd called Luna that had to see you not acting like your usual self.

On top of that your older brother, Rick, got shot working… he was a Sheriff’s Deputy. That’s what made you stop feeling sorry for yourself, because you couldn’t. You needed to see your brother laying on a hospital bed in comma, you had to hold things together and take care of Carl and Lori.

Lori and Carl had you, but you had no one, Carl was just a kid and Lori couldn’t even take care of herself at the moment. There was Shane, he was like a brother to you, but even with him there… it was as if you were alone. You just had Luna.

You went to their house and stayed there, you were going to stay until Rick got better, yes, he was going to get better and you would stay just a little bit more to help during his recovery, and everything was going to be fine again. But it never was. The world ended. The dead were walking as if they were alive and Rick died.

Now you lived in a Quarry with Lori, Carl, Shane and a bunch of other survivors. Most of people were pleasant and easy to live with, the exception was Ed, Carol’s husband and Merle Dixon, Daryl’s brother, but this was the apocalypse and you don’t have much choice on the people that are going to be around you.

It had been almost two months since everything happened and the camp was created, almost two months your brother had died… and today, while you were picking some wood, you saw something that felt as if someone was pulling your guts out of your stomach and squeezing your heart.

Lori and Shane. Not Lori and Shane friendly doing what they usually do, they were in the middle of the forest, fucking, and there was no other word you’d use to describe it other than fucking. There wasn’t even two months Rick died, and his best friend and wife were fucking.

You felt nauseated, you went back the same direction you came and knew you had to do something to calm down. You couldn’t afford causing an scene or any uncomfortable situation, you could not hurt Carl.

“Hey! Aunt Y/N, did you already pick all the woods?” Carl shouted to you from the spot he was, playing with Sophia and Luna, Carol watching them.

“Er… wood wasn’t good that side, I’m going to the other side see if I find anything better.” You gave a lame excuse, you just wanted to be alone, cry all this shit out, in silence cause you didn’t want anyone to know and you didn’t want to attract any walkers near the camp.

“Can you look after them a little more, Carol?” You asked the woman, you were sure she was not going to say no, she loved being with the kids and even with Luna.

“Sure, don’t worry.” She said, you nodded and then walked to the opposite side from where you came the fastest as possible, looking down so others wouldn’t see you had started to cry.

You walked until you found a place far enough so no one would find you, but not so far that you would have any trouble. You had a gun and knife, you knew how to defend yourself, but you couldn’t make it easy to the dead to kill you, you were not that dumb.

You sat behind a tree, brought your knees to your chest and hid your face crying. Your thoughts were racing and all you could think was about what you saw, your brother and how you missed him. You listened to some light leaves hustle, but You didn’t give it importance, thinking it was probably the wind, it was so light that it couldn’t be a walker. So you continued minding your own business crying what you had to cry so you could look at your sister-in-law’s face without letting her know how upset you were.

“Ya shouldn’t be out here vulnerable like that” you jumped startled by the redneck’s voice. ‘So that was him,’ you thought, ‘of course, only he could walk with light steps, he was a hunter after all.’ You wiped your tears, not that it would help they were still falling and there wasn’t anything you could do to stop them.

“I’m not vulnerable, I just needed some time alone.” You answered, he was really trying to not be too rough on you given to your situation, but his lack of tact was something he had much difficulty to overcome.

“Ya could cry in your tent, it’s safer”

“I don’t wanna Carl and Lori to see me cry. I don’t wanna have to explain myself, things would get bad if I had to. I don’t wanna upset Carl.” You sniffed, that was one of the worst parts of crying, getting a damn runny nose.

“Shane can’t help?” He asked, you didn’t know but he probably already had some idea of the reason you were crying.

“He’s part of the problem Dixon, if I could I’d punch him and kick his balls” you answered, tears still running down but a little bit calmer.

“Did ya see him and…” he didn’t finish the question, because you completed it for him.

“Lori? Yeah”

Talking about them made you remember everything you saw and how it hurt you. You were still mourning Rick, and Shane and Lori apparently were already moving on. What hurt the most is that even mad at both of them, you still loved them. Lori was like a big sister, a sister that you wish you had while growing up, and Shane? He was your brother he taught you how to defend yourself, he gave you shooting classes, he brought you home the first time you got drunk and even took care of you while you were hangover. When Rick wasn’t there, he was. At this moment you hated him as much as you loved him.

“Do you know if anyone else know about them?” You asked after a long time, you were so lost that you didn’t even noticed that Daryl walked a bit ahead and stoped with his back turned to you. He wanted to give you privacy to cry, but he also couldn’t leave you behind, it was dangerous to you staying so vulnerable at the forest. He knew you could defend yourself, but you didn’t even listened him approaching, you sure were not going to listen to a walker too.

“I don’t know. Probably not. I’m much into the woods, so I caught them a few times.” He answered at distance, not turning to look back at you. “Do ya like him?” Daryl asked and right after he just regretted having opened his mouth, why would he ask such an intimate thing to you? He should just stay there and make sure you’d go back alive to the camp.

“Ew! No! He’s like a brother to me. We grew up together.” You answered disgusted to the idea of liking Shane any other way. “It’s not that. My brother, he died. Well, you probably know. And I know Lori needs to continue living and they are adults, but there’s not even 2 months and she moved on that fast and Shane… he was his best friend. I’m still mourning him, the world still doesn’t make any sense without him here and they are already fucking. I know I’m being selfish and emotional but…” you spoke so much that you had already lost your line of thought. Daryl was probably tired of you, he wasn’t one to talk much, but here you were opening all your thoughts to him.

“It’s about yer brother. Ya have the right to feel.” He understood, he had never lost his brother and he hoped he’d not lose him anytime soon. Merle was a dick, and he made him mad most of the time, but he was his brother, so he understood you.

You wiped your tears, calmer and ready to continue. You were still mad and sad about everything, but now you didn’t feel like you were going to die anymore, you were not suffocated. You got up, shook the dirt from your pants and approached the archer.

“I was going to take some wood for fire. I don’t want to go back empty handed. Can you help me?” Now you gave a look at him, and noticed he had some rabbits and squirrels hanging from a rope. He was being essential to maintain everyone fed, he was not one to be socializing around the camp, but he was good and you could see it.

He just nodded and started walking by your side collecting the good woods he found along the way. “Thank you.” You said collecting a branch that you saw.

“For what? I didn’t even take the woods to the camp.” Did he not understand or was he faking?

“Not about the woods. Well, that too… but thank you for staying with me and talk to me, you didn’t have to” ‘but you did’, you completed in your thoughts. “Also, thank you for always bringing us food. I don’t know if I ever told you that.” He grunted, sometimes you wish you could know what he was thinking, you never knew if his grunts mean something good or bad.

“No need to thank me” he never knew how to react at moments like that. Should he say thanks back? Should he give another compliment?

Soon you returned to the camp, he helped you put the woods near the makeshift kitchen and was going to clean the rabbits and squirrels so they could be cooked.

“Luna likes you” you said, you saw how your dog acted around him. He was a little surprised with the comment. “You can take her with you when you want, I see that you like her too.” You smiled, a beautiful one just as if you were not broken or had cried your soul an hour ago.

“She likes my food too” he joked, it was not intentional but after what he said he even got a little smile at the corner of his mouth for some seconds. You giggled before answering.

“I know, she makes the cutest puppy eyes. It’s not her fault if you can’t resist her charms.” He snorted and for some seconds, just few seconds, he thought that maybe she wasn’t the only one he couldn’t resist. As he went to clean the hunt, you went to Carol to say you got the wood and offer to take care of the kids while she started to prepare the food.

You couldn’t take that smile from your face and you didn’t were sure why, you ruffled Luna’s fur while you sat close to the kids and released the dog so she could run around a little. You hated having to let her tied, but you were too afraid of what could happen if she went too far. She ran around the camp and soon approached the archer he pet her and she made her happy tail dance to him, he looked in your direction and you smiled watching their interaction. Your day wasn’t lost, there was still good things to be grateful for, even in a world like this.

Final notes: Please tell me your thoughts. There is a long time I don’t write and publish fanfiction in English so I’d be glad to hear from you.

[chericheribaby]

Fanfiction Author Interview Game

thank you for the tag @moonheavens i loved snooping on your answers hehe <3

How many works do you have on AO3?

seven at the moment! that will change pretty soon...

What's your total AO3 word count?

105,014 but that's because it's counting my hidden works! (about time and my jegbb)

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes:

archenemies (or so he thought) | if you care for me pls don't read this lmao, this was my first born and it's... yeah, please don't. (somehow this is my work with the most hits which is terrible)

Don't threaten me with a good time | the sequel of archenemies, same warning lol

When it rains | I liked how this one turned out, it's silly and lovely and it has pastries which is nice so, yeah!

Some sunny day | oh this one, this one is so soft and so sweet, the fluffiest of fluffs. it has mexican james, chilean remus, little harry and little luna <3 a day at the beach <3

light as a feather, soft as a kiss | my first drarry <3 love a good pinning and pathetic draco just as the next guy

(shout out to as warm as the calabrian sun that was one kudos away from making it to this list)

Do you respond to comments?

I do but not as often as I should, I have a lot of unanswered comments in my inbox but one of my goals for this year is to answer all of them, I love comments and I have this idea that maybe people don't comment because they see I don't answer comments that often :/

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

I wouldn't say the angstiest ending because i like happy endings but slow dancing in the dark is the angstiest fic I have, though i want to believe it's more of a hopeful ending :•) (the people who read it might disagree)

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

like i said, i like happy endings but if I have to choose, maybe some sunny day, it's has a pretty sweet ending I think!

Do you write crossovers?

not really, no!

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

nope!

Do you write smut?

I have but it's not posted yet! you can get back to me a month from now tho...

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that I know of!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

no but I’m waiting for my friends to shoot the shot with me…….

What's your all-time favorite ship?

drarry my beloveds <3

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

The Empire of the Sun, it was a big project of mine, one i really liked! it was a jegulus dystopian au, I had the whole idea drafted but I've seen how people treat fics and authors in this fandom, specifically with this pairing and that kinda made me. not want to continue writing it, honestly. Also it's a big ass fic so, I don't think I'll ever finish it anyway.

What are your writing strengths?

I think maybe inner dialogue, I like to ramble a lot inside my little puppet's head so, probably that. I'm kind of an oblivious self-deprecating author so I'm very Unaware of these things.

What are your writing weaknesses?

A year ago I would've said my inability to finish anything but that's not true anymore so, probably the lack of flexibility, sometimes i want something to make sense and i research and I spiral that something is not quite right when in reality this is fucking fiction and i need to calm down and remember is not that serious!! (also long ass sentences like this one... not even a comma im Insane)

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

All in, I even have dialogue in french and spanish in my fics so. I particularly appreciate it when the author leaves the translation in the notes so i know what they're talking about hehe

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

Good Omens, I have a azicrow/ineffable husband's fic in my drafts so, maybe that will see the light of day someday! also, Agatha All Along, agathario, those two tempt me to write something for them....

What's your favorite fic you've written?

About Time, Scars and the Brightest Stars, that fic is like, my baby and I'm so proud of how is coming along! can't wait for you to read it!!!

no pressure tags: @static-radio-ao3 @residentrookie @ecstarry @kaaaaaaarf @aeoneskova @rae-lune @inevitablestars @velanavis @emlovessid @itsjaywalkers and OPEN TAG!!

[galkyrie]

@a-commas-a-pause

Jason could do this. After the literal weeks of being yelled at by the regular commentors on his recipe blog to buck up and ask the nice man who fixed his janky-ass photography out, he was finally going to do it.

It'd been about a year since Tim had stumbled onto his taking said poor photos of his creations on his phone, and, upon hearing the explanation, had volunteered his time to help with the pictures. Well- volunteered wasn't exactly the right word, since Tim kinda just declared that was how it was gonna be.

Jason had been less prickly about it when he'd actually seen the results of letting Tim do his thing. The photos often came out better than the food, each one looking ready to end up in some expensive coffee table book.

And Tim agreed to be paid in dessert, so it wasn't like he'd been losing out by letting him in on the ritual. The photos weren't even the part he did for himself, anyway.

So he got great, magazine quality photoshoots of his creations for the low cost of sharing a slice or two of what he'd made. It really felt like he was the one benefitting the most out of this arrangement- his baking wasn't even that good. It was just- stress relief, the kind of meditation that came with cleaning his guns or building a bomb- except he got to eat the results.

It was an arrangement that suited him just fine, for the past year. He'd even mentioned "camera-guy" in his posts, from explaining why his photography suddenly stopped looking like amateur shit and jovially talking shit about the lengths he went to get the perfect shot- Tim became a bit of a regular on his blog.

He hadn't realized how much until six months in, when a couple of his regular followers had begun...speculating about the man's intentions with his help. Jason found himself in the comment section of his own blog defending Tim's honor and insisting that no, "camera-guy" was not putting the moves on him in some elaborate display of skill- he was just like that. Generous with his time and effort and deeply dedicated to his friends, eager to help wherever he could. Tim just- he cared so much and so deeply about the people he cared about getting what they wanted- it never had to be romantic for him to be willing to help.

It wasn't until a few months later, when one of his regulars had joked about him being more effusive about the way the little lunatic had crouched on his barstool and angled his whole body to get the perfect shot of the shiny tart glaze he'd finally perfected, that he realized it...might be, a little, romantic. On his own part, anyways. Someone usually doesn't tend to wax poetic about the way someone's bangs fall over their eyes or their tongue pokes out of the side of their mouth when they're focusing, when they're not paying too much attention to that someone's mouth.

When that same commenter had followed up with a remark about seeing where that kinda focus and attention to detail would manifest in the bedroom, joking that Jason should drop his number so they could find out-

He lost the last shred of deniability. Seeing red, he blocked the user before he could think too hard about tracking down their IP and paying them a visit in person- and insane overreaction to someone joking about his "camera-guy" on the internet. He eventually unblocked them, and had to admit his followers might not be far off about his feelings.

It was easier to admit to a bunch of strangers, anyway.

Unfortunately, doing so had only encouraged the small group. Hell, they'd started picking apart his old posts for evidence that "camera-guy" liked him back- they started making bets on whether or when he would finally ask the guy out-

It was getting out of hand. If he had to hear that the way to a man's heart was his stomach so he was already basically dating him one more time-

Hence the plan. Which he'd formulated in a panic after discovering he'd missed Tim's birthday by opening the evening edition- make Tim a birthday cake, and see if he can get enough intel on his favorite foods to throw together a dinner- then ask him out.

He took a deep breath as he heard the familiar sounds of Tim letting himself in his front door.

He could totally do this.

[meanwhileinstasiville]

A choose your own adventure game called my life

So you run into a woman sitting on a park bench, that may be based on a Heart song, because someone in a grocery office thinks they're being funny. (and it's based on one of their favorite words, after some decades of consolidated power, say)

Can you contest the decision to supply an experience like that, by proceeding to where it was made? Well, no, you'd get shot for showing up. But that's neither here nor there.

So yesterday, I made intentionally awkward conversation in passing with the hulking reference librarian. And of course, I saw lots and lots of very heavy set women parading around in front of me at the park after that. For enough words to make up two sentences or therabouts.

(I knew he might be a chubby chaser! Because one of my former boss's son's wives, is overweight, and jokes are funny)

I *could* send Mary Kay and Tupperware to *your* door every single day, and then claim that you wanted it there, if only because you commented on the first time it happened. Weaponized socialization, say.

I ran into a woman at the entrance to the coop (a plant next to the plants, city/state/federal otherwise), who reminds of someone who used to manage the beanery coffee shop. She was *also* sent on these kinds of sorties, a sort of super valuable surprisingly expendable drug fixture. Either one of them could end up like my friend from back in 97; trying their best to do right by people in general. So we talked for like forty minutes in a doorway. Her trying to imply the woman she resembled was in jail, and that she was there for federal purposes that weren't immediately clear or obvious; I didn't call the number she gave me, *tempting* as that is. And I always have to wish them well (women like that) because they have a Mata Hari Jessica Rabbit quality, being a reluctant innately bad thing, "not bad, but drawn that way".

(Yes, both of them are loosely associated with where I worked, above and below the waterline) You'll see a post about Rodney King after this, and I want you to bear that in mind when reading some of the things I write here.

Ashland is owned and operated by a triumvirate of sorts, between drug cartels with government treaties of sorts through some federal arrangement (that keeps crime more unreported than reduced since 95 or so), and a major automotive wholesaler which was founded here. Which is all your upper echelon administrative stuff. So nobody works who frequents the businesses, and all the retail employees live in the slums (which town now has, and they're getting bigger along with the fire borne homeless population). A retired cop in passing, back where I used to work, imparted that there was "capital" stuff going on all over Ashland in the privacy of people's very expensive homes. I looked like the kind of person who needed to be made aware of that, I guess. After the gay couple in passing explained how, "this place used to be full of Samoans" a sly, sideways way of talking about Kings County, Washington. A comma doing as much work as the citizen-soldier hyphen, and for longer than a war in Iraq.

[cali-holland]

An Irregular Romance ★ Harrison Osterfield One Shot

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield X Reader

Summary: Over five years ago, Harrison followed his heart (a.k.a. you) to drama school, and the day he asked you out was the day he discovered you had a boyfriend. He thought that part of his past was behind him, but then he was cast as Leo in The Irregulars and you were cast as Bea. Romance and shenanigans ensue as he tries to navigate the resurrection of his crush on you.

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: spoilers for The Irregulars, swearing, drinking (reader gets v drunk at one point), cheating boyfriend + “open relationship” drama

Masterlist in bio

*Gif is not mine

A/N: inspired by harrison literally saying he followed the girl he liked to drama school but she didn’t like him back; the drama school is the brit school (idk if that’s what he was talking about but age wise it works better); also darci is 18+ in this fic bc it just fits better to make her around their age; plus i had to re-post this bc the tags didn’t work so rip

also just like to say a massive thank you to @duskholland​​ for proofreading this for me :) you’re the best! this fic would be missing 90% of its commas if it wasn’t for you lmao

❁❁❁❁❁

Harrison had been buzzing with excitement all week. While he knew for sure that he had landed the role of Prince Leo in The Irregulars, he had no idea who the other cast members were. His agent learned from Netflix that they’d announce the cast on Saturday, so now here he sat, anxiously awaiting the news as he drank another pint with his good friends.

“Anything yet?” Tuwaine asked, refreshing his Twitter timeline.

“Nope.” Harrison said with a shake of his head as Netflix’s Instagram page remained unchanged as another minute went by.

“Maybe they’re announcing it at midnight.” Tom shrugged, trying to be useful to ease his friend’s nerves.

“Everyone would be asleep.” The blond replied before taking another long drink of his beer.

“Well, congratulations whenever they officially announce it.” Harry stated, standing up with his empty glass. “Next round’s on me.”

The conversation began to wander off, and Harrison found himself deep in thought, pondering his mysterious, new castmates. Would he like them? Would they like him? Were they big names or no names? Were they people he had screen-tested with (because, truthfully, he only screen-tested with a few girls, but even then, he didn’t screen test with all of the potential actresses)? As he got stuck, trying to think of someone he’d actually liked when they screen-tested together, he was snapped out of his thoughts by Tom yelling.

“It’s up!” Tom held his phone in the middle of the table as he, Harrison, Tuwaine, and Harry, who was now back with more beer, looked over the cast. A sense of pride soared through the group at Harrison’s picture and name being on the official Netflix page for The Irregulars. Harrison read over the other names, wondering if he knew any by happenstance. Just as he recognized one name in particular, Tom spoke up.

“Y/N Y/L/N? Isn’t that the girl you fancied in drama school?” Tom asked with a smirk. His smirk seemed to widen as Harrison blushed a deeper shade of red.

“No, no, no!” Harrison grumbled, taking out his phone to look over the post for himself because maybe, if he looked from his own account, the cast would magically change. When he looked at your name and picture right beside his, realization hit him. He slumped over, putting his head down on the table regretfully.

“I’d nearly forgotten about Haz’s girl that wasn’t his girl.” Tuwaine joked.

“Wait, what girl?” Harry questioned, out of the loop.

Perhaps the stupidest but best choice Harrison had ever made in his life was following you, his biggest crush, to drama school. Why his mother even let him chase after a girl like that was beyond him; he thought she should’ve advised him against it, but with the whole “follow your heart” attitude, his mum was his biggest supporter. He did his best to impress you, to get you to notice him, but you were unfazed by him. The day that he finally got the courage to ask you out was the day that he learned you’d had a boyfriend for the past two months.

Though he didn’t get the girl in drama school, he actually enjoyed it, and look where he ended up now— a new Netflix show was on the horizon for him. Despite the fact that he was (and still sort of is) crushed and embarrassed by the fact that you (very kindly) rejected him five years ago, drama school turned out to be a blessing.

“Harrison, here,” Tom laughed as he clapped his friend’s shoulder as Harrison still didn’t lift his head from his pitiful position, “thought he’d pursue acting because Y/N wanted to be an actress. He didn’t realize that in order to get her attention, he’d have to actually talk to her.”

That was enough to make Harrison lift his head, eyeing his friend questioningly. Cutting Tom off, he defended himself, “What do you mean? I did talk to her.”

“Right— you’d have maybe one conversation with her every three weeks.” Tom turned back to his brother, “Anyway, Haz finally asked her out and, turns out, she’d been dating this other guy for months.”

“Whatever. I only asked her out because you and Tuwaine shoved me into her. Maybe she doesn’t even remember me.” Harrison pulled out his phone to check over Netflix’s Instagram, wanting to see for himself the new cast again. When he opened the app, it notified him of all the new followers he had gotten, and, with one glance at the list of names, one account stood out to him.

‘@yourusername started following you’. Harrison let out a sigh, not wanting to dwell on this any further.

“She works fast.” Harry teased, looking over the blond’s shoulder.

“We’re co-stars now. She probably followed everyone else too.”

As if on cue, a new notification came through his Instagram— ‘@yourusername sent you a message’. With bated breath, he opened it to see the message that confirmed his worst fear— you remembered him.

‘Hey stranger! How have you been?’

❁❁❁❁❁

With every passing day, Harrison’s excitement for this new big project grew… but so did his dread about seeing you again. He wasn’t entirely sure now as to why his gut was filled with butterflies mixed with anxiety just thinking about you. You were only ever nice to him, both before and after he asked you out. It all led him back to the same conclusion that he still had a thing for you, but yet again, maybe it’s just life that your first real crush always has some power over you.

As he walked down the strangely long hallway to the conference room, he adjusted the collar of his letterman’s jacket. Today was the big day— the first table read for The Irregulars, and the first day he’d be confronted by you after all these years. Just on the other side of this door, his co-stars and the main production crew were waiting. Everything was real now; production would start in just a few days.

With one last nervous breath, he pushed open the heavy oak door and entered the room. People were chatting as they sat around the large conference table, which had small name cards at each seat. Harrison’s eyes found you almost immediately. You were locked into a conversation with your co-star, Darci, seated to your left for the table read. To your right was one of the last available seats, and Harrison’s name was on the little card on the table. All hopes of being unnoticed by you were instantaneously gone as he took his seat beside you.

“Fancy seeing you here.” You said to Harrison with a laugh, and he was instantly reminded of how that laugh basically drove him to where he was today.

“How long has it been?” Harrison asked, trying to play it cool like he hadn’t been rehearsing this day in his mind for the past several months.

“Far too long.” You smiled.

As the last few people trickled into the room, introductions flew around the table as everyone met their new coworkers. After a cold read-through of the script and a few words from the show’s creator, the table read was deemed over. Just when Harrison thought he was free to forget about your existence for a few more days, you pulled him aside.

“Hey, Darci and I were going to get drinks with McKell and Jojo. You should come.” You offered, and Harrison chanced a glance across the room to where Darci was chatting with your other two main co-stars.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Harrison replied. He cleared his throat before giving you a definite nod that yes, that’d be a great idea.

“Perfect.”

And just like that, the five of you made your way across town to a pub. Darci had chosen the spot, explaining that it was the best place for drinks in Liverpool, and, seeing as she’d lived there her whole life, none of you tried to argue with her.

Harrison felt a strange pit in his stomach as everyone talked and laughed over some beers, as if you weren’t all strangers a few hours ago. His eyes always seemed to land on you and your contagious smile. You looked almost exactly how he remembered you, and you still were the same happy, go-lucky girl he’d fallen hard for. It was crazy to him how quickly you gave him butterflies, how effortlessly you made him feel like a silly schoolboy all over again. He couldn’t help but wonder if you thought he’d changed since his school days, too… or if you even thought about him enough to notice. So far, you’d made no indication that he was anyone besides an old friend from drama school, making him hope you didn’t remember that dreadful day.

As you and Darci excused yourself for a bathroom break, Harrison gave himself a little reminder that he was meant to be getting to know all of his co-stars right now and wasn’t meant to be focusing so intently on you. He took another sip of his beer, turning back to Jojo and McKell.

“So how do you and Y/N know each other?” McKell asked, and Jojo tried to hide his shit-eating grin behind his beer.

“Drama school, a few years ago.” Harrison replied, trying to play ignorant.

“Ah, so it’s a schoolboy crush, then?” Jojo questioned teasingly.

Harrison felt his face heat up. Jojo and McKell were practically strangers to him, and they already knew. He was cornered, “Is it that obvious?”

“A little.” McKell said while Jojo simultaneously replied, “Very.”

“Just ask her out.” Jojo encouraged.

“That’s the problem— I did.” Harrison replied, and both of their jaws dropped.

“No way. Did she let you down easy at least?” McKell’s voice was somewhere between a disbelieving, teasing, and pitiful tone.

Harrison scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “Well, yeah? I mean she wasn’t rude about it, but it was still a bit awkward. She was dating this other guy at the time. He didn’t go to our school, though, so I had no clue about him.”

“That’s rough.” Jojo grimaced, before he gave Harrison a hopeful smile, “Maybe she’s single now.”

“I’ve been rejected by Y/N once— I don’t need her to reject me a second time.” He shook his head with a small laugh to conceal his embarrassment. He took a drink of his beer, hoping that would calm his nerves a little.

“Incoming,” McKell said quietly, nodding in the direction of the bathroom.

“What’d we miss?” Darci asked as she slipped back into her seat. You remained standing to put your jacket on, both you and Darci completely unaware of the boys’ conversation.

“Nothing, just Jojo being an idiot.” McKell joked, to which his newfound friend just punched him in the arm, taking another long drink of his beer.

“I think I might head back to the hotel.” Your words were met with a collective groan from three of your co-stars— Harrison silently frowned as he sipped on his beer.

As your head was down to collect your things, Jojo swiftly kicked Harrison under the table. Harrison looked at him quizzically, sending him a “what the hell was that for” look. When his co-star just nodded his head encouragingly towards you, Harrison got the idea.

“I’ll walk you.” Harrison said, making you look over at him. Standing up from his seat, he insisted, “I was just about to head out, too.”

“Okay,” You smiled, still completely unaware of his interaction with Jojo.

After you all exchanged phone numbers and created a group chat lovingly titled “The Irregz”, you and Harrison left the pub. You fell in step together, walking along the sidewalk in the chilly Liverpool air back to the hotel that you’d all be staying at for the next few months.

“So what have you been up to since graduation?” Harrison asked you, his hands deep in the pockets of his letterman’s jacket.

“All sorts of things, really.” You shrugged with a smile, “I got a few TV roles here and there, did some modeling, but so far none of it has really stuck, so I’m hopeful that this will be a foot in the door. What about you?”

“The same as you, really, but, instead of shows, I’ve done some short films.”

“I see you’re still best friends with Tom.” You said in a teasing tone. Harrison felt an unusual, upsetting tug on his heartstring. Not noticing any change in his demeanor, you continued with a laugh, “It’s funny. I would’ve placed my bets on you being world-famous after graduation.”

“Me?” He questioned, surprised by your words.

“Yeah, you didn’t go to LAMDA for nothing.” You playfully nudged his arm with your elbow, and he felt his cheeks heat up once more. “Don’t be modest— I’m not wrong.”

“Can’t argue with that logic.” A laugh passed his lips, any previous bashful reservations slowly fading away.

Before Harrison could say anything further, your phone began to ring. You fished it out of your pocket and barely looked at the caller ID before sending it to voicemail. Your actions were fast, but Harrison still caught the name of who was calling, Davey, followed by a red heart emoji. And that’s when it hit him— you were still with the same boyfriend from drama school, all those years ago.

And just like that, Harrison felt a tsunami wave of heartbreak from drama school wash over him.

“Hey, Y/N!” Harrison called out as he stumbled his way over to stall you from leaving school. He had one hand holding onto his book bag strap tight enough that his knuckles were turning white, and he shuffled his other through his hair.

“Hey, is everything alright?” You asked, concerned at how nervous he seemed.

“Yeah, um, well, tonight’s opening night for West Side Story, and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me? I know it’s your favorite play, and it’s one of mine too, so, yeah, I thought maybe we could go together?” He was sure that he’d never sounded so unsure of himself. Truth is, he didn’t want to ask you out right now, but Tom and Tuwaine had quite literally shoved him in your direction, physically encouraging him. He felt rushed and unprepared.

When you smiled so captivatingly and softly at him, he felt his racing heart speed up even more. Was this it? Was he really going to take you on a date? He thought to himself. His hopes weren’t up for long as you spoke up, “I can’t. I’ve already got tickets for tonight. I’m going with Davey.”

“Davey?”

“My boyfriend.” You replied, a hint of guilt in your voice.

His heart shattered. The only reason he was here, at this school, was because of you, and now he just had all of his hopes for any future dates with you thrown out the window.

“You and Davey are still together?” Harrison wondered aloud as you two arrived at the hotel.

“Yeah,” Your response was hesitant and quiet. He knew why— there was that elephant in the room between the two of you.

Before he could stop himself from mentioning it, he blurted out, “You don’t have to feel guilty about it, you know.”

You paused, watching unsure as he ran a hand through his hair nervously. “I kinda wonder what would’ve happened if I had said yes. Davey and I didn’t even end up seeing  West Side Story, anyway, so I wonder if you and I would’ve ended up any differently.”

It wasn’t much, but his heart sped up ever so slightly— so you had thought about him, even in the dating context. Harrison couldn’t think of a response (his brain repeated “fuck Davey, ask her out again”) fast enough as you stopped at the front desk. You mumbled something about needing some towels, and Harrison took that as his cue to just continue walking. He bid you a quick farewell, wanting to escape to his room as fast as possible.

Nothing you had said tonight had been particularly flirty, but he still rewound the events in his head because maybe he missed something. As he laid down in his bed that night, his mind drifted off with thoughts of you, wondering just how he’d manage to pull off these next few months without falling for you all over again.

Over the next several weeks, his predicament only seemed to grow. Spending so much time with you (and your other three co-stars) just made Harrison wish even more that he’d asked you out sooner in drama school, and having to spend most of his screen time gawking over you added to it further. Maybe it was another school boy crush, or maybe it was intense method acting— either way, he definitely liked you.

Ever since he read the script for episode four, he knew that eventually your two characters would become romantically involved. He would’ve felt giddy over the thought (because his eighteen-year-old self would’ve died at this opportunity), but whenever he thought of the scene, he was reminded about your boyfriend. Harrison wasn’t the type of guy to hate his crush’s boyfriend, but something just didn’t seem right about Davey.

Harrison was lying on his hotel bed, reading over the episode’s script for what must have been the fifth time through that afternoon. It was Sunday, the day before you’d both film Leo and Bea’s kiss. With a beer on his side table and an array of highlighters beside it, he was set. As the words started to run together, and his glasses began to feel uncomfortable on his nose, he heard a knock at his door.

“Coming!” Harrison called out. Setting his script aside, he rolled off the bed. He was confused at who could possibly be at his door, but, figuring it was someone from set, he had the decency to slip on a white t-shirt, opting for not answering the door in nothing but grey sweats. He was thankful for his last-minute decision as he opened the door and was met with you on his doorstep. Smiling at you and leaning on the doorframe, he let out a small, “Hey.”

“Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to rehearse tomorrow’s scene.” You offered with a friendly smile on your face.

“Right now?” He asked, glancing back into his room to decipher if it was clean enough or not.

“Oh, is this a bad time?” You replied, subconsciously stepping back. “Is someone here?”

“What?” Harrison looked at you, confused before it clicked what you thought, “Oh, no, no. There’s no one here. I was just rehearsing, too.”

“So is that a yes then or-?” You trailed off.

“Yeah, come on in.” He opened his door fully, allowing you to step in. He chivalrously closed the door behind you. “Would you like water or anything?”

“Can I have a beer?” You asked, spotting the one on his nightstand.

“Sure.” Harrison nodded. While he got you a beer and grabbed his own half-consumed bottle and script, you settled on the couch with your pages in hand.

“Thank you.” You smiled as he handed you the beer, and you took a sip happily. “You know, I’m honestly so jealous of you this week.”

“Why?” He asked with a laugh, thrown off guard by your confession.

“You get to do all the palace scenes again.”

“I also throw myself off a balcony.”

“But still.” You insisted. “Leo really needs to sneak Bea into the palace just so I can have one of those extravagant ball dress scenes. I just want to feel like a princess, and I feel like it’s what Bea deserves.”

Harrison looked at you admiringly for a moment. “You are a princess.” His face dropped as soon as he realized he’d said his thoughts aloud. Coughing, he tried to cover it up, “I mean—- you were kind of princess-like in episode 3, right?”

“Smooth.” You laughed, but didn’t press the situation. Your phone began to ring, and Harrison watched as you rolled your eyes, declining the call and ultimately silencing your phone.

“Spam call?”

“More like clingy non-committal somewhat boyfriend.” You stated, rolling your eyes.

He furrowed his eyebrows, confused. You hadn’t mentioned Davey in the past few weeks— not that Harrison was complaining, but he just assumed you were private about your personal life. “I thought you and Davey were on good terms?”

“We are? I don’t know.” You sighed, taking a sip of your beer.

“If you’re not comfortable with the topic, we can just rehearse-”

“No, it’s fine. I just haven’t really talked about it with anyone. Before I came here, he asked about having an open relationship while I’m away, and I told him no. And the last time we talked, we got into an argument and that was a couple days ago. I’m not ready to talk to him, and at this point, I’d much rather talk to you than him. It’s very frustrating that he wants to have an open relationship, but he still expects me to be at his beck and call. It’s like he’s looking for someone to substitute me, but I can’t have a life of my own. He wasn’t the most supportive of me taking this job in the first place, too.” You paused, with a small shrug, “I know you’re probably thinking I should leave him, but I can’t. We’ve been together for 5 years. I don’t know anything else at this point.”

“I get it.” Harrison said softly, hesitantly resting a comforting hand on your knee. “He was your first love. It makes sense that it’s hard to move on.” He felt his own heart sink at his ironic words. After all, you were his first love.

“I wouldn’t say he’s my first love.” You said softly, placing your hand on his, squeezing it gently. “Plus, at this point, I wouldn’t even say I love him.”

A silence fell in the room. Harrison really didn’t know what to say now. He would have told you to leave him, but you already knew that, so what was the point in him repeating it? Besides, it was your relationship, and you needed to make the decision for yourself… or let Davey make it for you.

“Let’s go through the scene, yeah?” You asked, changing the topic. You dropped his hand to pick up your script again.

“Right.” Harrison mumbled to himself, flicking through the pages to the scene.

You glanced around his hotel suite for a moment, looking for something similar to a bridge rail to lean on. “Should we use the kitchen counter? As the bridge rail?”

“Yeah, that works.” He nodded. The two of you got up, scripts in hand. Harrison stood to your right, just as the stage direction had called for. There was some space between the two of you, enough room for Harrison to shuffle closer to you later, as scripted.

“You’re not on your own, Beatrice. You must remember that.” Harrison said to you, leaning on the counter but looking over to you with his icy blue eyes. “You’re very different to anyone I’ve ever met.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, looking at him curiously.

“You have something about you.” He started, awkwardly.

You cut him off, “Like a smell?”

“No, like a quality.” He chuckled softly before continuing, “I don’t know what it is, but I really like it.”

“Well, when you think of it, let me know.”

“I’ll be sure to.” He smiled at you, his confidence slowly building as the scene continued on. Harrison stepped closer to you until he was right beside you, leaning sideways on the counter. “And I’m not saying you don’t smell, by the way. I’m just saying that that’s not the thing.”

You laughed, turning your head away from him in disbelief. “You know, I was thinking of kissing you, but now I’m not gonna.”

Harrison paused, taking a moment to mentally hype himself up for what was about to happen, but also taking a moment because it was scripted for Leo to be nervous. “Well, uh, I suppose I have to kiss you then.”

You turned to him, smiling coyly. Slowly, Harrison closed his eyes and leaned in. His heart started racing faster as he felt your breath fan against his face before his lips finally found yours. It was gentle and hesitant, everything that it had been scripted to be. As much as he wanted to keep kissing you and keep tasting the sweet strawberries of your lipgloss, it had to end. He pulled away after a moment, and you seemed almost breathless as you opened your eyes to see him again.

“I meant it when I said you’re not on your own.” Harrison looked at you with more hesitancy this time, but he still kissed you with the softest passion. The script said that Leo and Bea kiss and continue to kiss for a few seconds; Harrison wasn’t counting, but he was sure this kiss was longer than it was meant to be. Again, he found himself dreading its inevitable end. If there was one thing he could do for the rest of his life, it’d be this… well, this amongst other things with you. His stomach started to stir with guilt as he remembered Davey; you were still technically in a relationship, open or not, arguing currently or not. But then it clicked with Harrison, you weren’t pulling away— no, you were fully kissing him back.

Before he could pull away and end the scene with his last few lines, a knock came from his door. Regretfully, he stepped away from you. He didn’t meet your eye as he went to answer the door while you read over the script on the counter. Flustered, he opened the door.

“Mum! You’re here.” Harrison’s eyes went wide, surprised to see his mother and his sister standing before him.

“Surprise!” She smiled, hugging him almost immediately. “We had to come and see you at your big job.”

“Are you not happy to see us?” Charlotte teased, and Harrison shook his head, pulling her in for a hug. As they all stepped into Harrison’s apartment, you waved from the kitchen.

“Hi.” You smiled, coming over to introduce yourself.

“Oh, mum, Charlotte, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is my mum and Charlotte, my sister.” Harrison introduced the three of you.

“You’re Y/N Y/L/N from drama school?” Phil said with a smile, making the connection as you shook her hand. Charlotte seemed to stifle a laugh as Harrison’s cheeks heated up.

“Yes, that sounds like me.” You laughed, brushing off any awkwardness that Harrison feared was there. “We were just rehearsing our scene for tomorrow.”

“Maybe we can come to set.” Phil suggested, sending Harrison an expectant look.

“I’ll have to ask. This is so, so last-minute, though, so I don’t know.” He replied.

“It’s a spontaneous weekend trip.” Charlotte clarified.

“We should get some dinner. We haven’t eaten much all day.” Phil told Harrison before turning to you, “Y/N, you should come, too. It’d be so lovely to get to know you.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” You trailed off, glancing at Harrison. He sent you a silent look that said ‘she seriously does want you to come… If you don’t come, I won’t hear the end of it’. “I’d love to. I just need to go change first.”

You grabbed your script off the counter, and Harrison walked you to the door. “How long do you need?”

“Like 10 minutes?” You replied, and he nodded.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know they were coming, or that they’d invite you to dinner.” He said quietly, making you laugh.

“It’s fine, but I do have to warn you, if my parents spontaneously drop by, they don’t know who you are.” You teased.

He let out an embarrassed groan, “Let’s not talk about that.”

“See you in ten.” You sent him a wink before leaving to your own hotel room. As Harrison closed the door and turned back around, he was met with the smirking faces of his mother and sister.

“So, is there anything you want to tell us?” Phil asked.

“We were rehearsing. That’s all.” Harrison insisted, going through the wardrobe to find some clothes to change into for dinner.

“Huh,” Charlotte trailed off, crossing her arms. “So, you wearing sparkly lip gloss that matches Y/N’s is a coincidence?”

“It’s a kiss scene tomorrow. We rehearsed the lines and the kisses, too.” He explained. With a pair of jeans, a clean shirt, and his red letterman jacket in hand, he made his way to the bathroom.

“Oh, multiple kisses.” She teased, making him roll his eyes.

“She has a boyfriend!” Harrison ended the conversation, closing the door to the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, you returned back to Harrison’s room, and the four of you left, making your way to an Italian restaurant nearby. You and Harrison shared anecdotes about filming so far, keeping spoilers to a minimum until the server came with your food.

“We got in so much trouble from the makeup and hair department.” You laughed as Harrison finished telling them of how you two went on the playground last week, much to the chagrin of the crew.

“It was worth it.” He added.

“Who would’ve known you’d play a Netflix prince?” Charlotte asked teasingly, but it was clear she was still proud of his achievements.

“Look at that face. He couldn’t play anything but a prince.” You joked, and he smiled smugly.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He stated.

“Phil, I have to say, I’ve never met someone more well suited to play a well-mannered prince.” You told her, playfully pinching Harrison’s cheek beside you.

“I remember when there was a time he was revolted at the idea of playing a prince.” Phil said, her lips growing into a smirk, and Harrison knew exactly what that meant.

“Mum, no—“ He started, but you just shushed him, wanting to hear whatever embarrassing story was about to be told.

“He watched a single Batman movie growing up— and not even a good one at that, and decided he simply had to be Batman.” She explained. “Then the Christopher Nolan ones came out, and there was no stopping him.”

“Every kid wants to be a superhero, and Batman is simply the best one.” He said as if it was obvious.

“I didn’t know you had a Batman phase.” You teased.

“Phase? He still has posters and comic books and dolls.” Charlotte added.

“Action figures.” He corrected her, making you laugh at the humor of it all.

“You know, honestly, I think I still have Catwoman action figures.” You admitted, trying to make him feel better, and Phil’s eyes lit up as she remembered another story.

“I cleaned your room a couple weeks ago, Harrison, and I was surprised to see you still Anne Hathaway as Catwoman posters.”

“Do we really have to talk about that? Does this torture not end?” He groaned.

“Fine. That’s enough for tonight.” Phil let out a defeated sigh, clearly enjoying herself.

“Y/N, if you want the really embarrassing stories, you’ve got to talk to Tom. He’s told me embarrassing Harrison stories that I can’t say in front of mum.” Charlotte laughed, and Harrison’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head at his sister’s words.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You smiled coyly.

“Sometimes, I wonder if he forgets that I know just as much embarrassing shit that he did growing up, too.” Harrison stated, shaking his head.

The night went on with minimal embarrassment on Harrison’s end. After Phil and Charlotte went back to their hotel, you and Harrison started the walk back to your own hotel. As you walked, your hands would brush against each other’s every so often, but neither of you made any move to take it further.

“Darci’s going to be so jealous in the morning.” You said, making him laugh a little.

“Why’s that?”

“That’s her favorite restaurant in town. Plus, I just got a free meal.” You laughed. A visible shiver coursed through you as the chilly night air picked up.

“Are you cold?” Harrison asked, already taking off his letterman’s jacket.

“Thank you.” You replied, taking his offer of warmth. Your short sleeves did nothing to shield you from the cold, but he had at least been prepared enough with long sleeves. “Are you sure you won’t get chilly?”

“I’ll be fine.” He reassured you.

“I had a really nice time tonight. I’m glad your mum invited me.” You admitted happily.

“Me, too. Apart from all of the embarrassment I just went through, I enjoyed tonight.”

“I never knew you had a secret Batman fanboy side.”

“I never knew you had a secret Catwoman fangirl side.” He countered with a smile.

“Guess that means we make a good team, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess it does.”

As you smiled at him, completely content under the moonlight, he wanted nothing more than to kiss you right then, to taste the sweetness of your strawberry lip gloss again. The last bit of your walk was filled with you two arguing over Batwoman and Catwoman, two things that neither of you had ever realized you had in common before.

Harrison’s wish finally came true the next day, as you two ran through the kiss scene multiple times. It was strange at first for him, because his sister and mother were intently watching, proud to see him in action, even if it was just a kiss scene over and over again. But, with you there, he grew more and more comfortable with each take.

As a few more weeks passed by, Harrison thought that perhaps you and Davey had officially ended things, but then he heard through Darci that you had magically worked it out. Whatever magic it was, he was upset about it, and he found himself increasingly irritated at the mention of Davey.

“Ooh, we finally get to meet the Davey tonight?” Darci asked as the five of you enjoyed lunch in between shots. It had been two weeks Harrison’s mother and sister visited, and now Davey was coming, much to Harrison chagrin.

“He’s only here for two days.” You explained, taking a bite of your sandwich.

“Ah, so you’ll be very busy, then.” McKell teased, suggestively nudging your side with his elbow. You brushed off his comment with a laugh, avoiding Harrison’s eyes.

“We should get him to do that calzone challenge with us.” Jojo said to Harrison. Although Jojo and McKell had been rather supportive of Harrison’s interest in you at the beginning, they seemed to forget about it most of the time now— for which he was actually kind of grateful.

The conversation couldn’t go any further as the director came into the room, holding the script in his hands. The look on his face told all of you that something was up. He looked between you and Harrison before speaking, “Change of plans for tomorrow. Eileen isn’t feeling well, so we’ll film Bea and Leo’s scene tomorrow instead of her scenes.”

“But tomorrow was supposed to be—“ You started, but cut yourself short, realizing there was no point in arguing. Schedules, plans, things all change, and this was just part of the job. “Never mind.”

“Well, tomorrow will be interesting.” Darci said quietly, voicing what was on everybody’s minds.

The director left with a silent nod, and the room fell silent for a moment. You and Harrison wouldn’t dare to look at each other, both of you feeling awkward suddenly. Making out with Harrison multiple times, especially with your boyfriend there, was not something either of you particularly enjoyed the thought of.

Having to film no more scenes today, Harrison went back to the hotel with Jojo and McKell. He didn’t end up seeing you for the rest of the day, but he was okay with that as he wanted to go as long as he could without meeting Davey. The director had taken some pity on the two of you, asking you to come in later in the morning instead of at 6 AM like usual.

Harrison made his way down to the hotel gym, wanting to utilize his newfound free time. Normally, he’d get his daily workout in after filming, but he didn’t see a reason to not get an early start today. He didn’t expect anyone to be up this early, but as he got closer to the gym, he could hear a voice coming from inside the room, the door cracked just slightly.

“Love, I promise I’ll be back in two days.” The stranger paused before continuing, “You know I’m only here for business, nothing else.”

Curious and trying to decide if he should even enter the room, Harrison snuck a quick glance through the crack in the doorway. He felt his blood run cold as he immediately recognized the guy sitting on the weight bench. Afterall, Harrison had looked at your social media enough to recognize your olive-skinned boyfriend, Davey.

“Bit early for you, isn’t it?” Harrison nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of your voice from down the hall. He heard Davey mumbled something on the other side of the door, probably having heard your voice too.

“Yeah, but I just figured I’d start my pull-ups early today.” He replied before opening the door for you, acting like he had no clue that Davey had been in there.

“Hello, gorgeous.” Davey said to you, completely ignoring Harrison. He stood from his spot at the weight bench to wrap his arms around your waist and kiss you possessively.

“Davey, this is Harrison, he plays Leo. Harrison, this is Davey.” You introduced the two guys.

Davey looked Harrison up and down with his dark brown eyes and seemed to stand straighter, even though the blond was inches taller. Harrison was the first to step forward and politely outstretch a hand to the raven-haired guy before him. With a tight smile, Davey shook his hand, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

Davey turned back to you, “Spot me?”

“Actually, I wanted to-” Your eyes drifted over to the treadmill as Harrison got in position to start his pull-ups at the bar. Davey looked at you expectantly, and you nodded, silently agreeing to stand there and spot Davey while he bench pressed.

Slipping on his headphones and turning on some music, Harrison began his workout. He played his music loud enough to block out your conversations with Davey. Not only was it none of his business, but god, Harrison really hated everything about him already. Hearing silence between you and Davey when his song changed, Harrison spared a glance over towards you. He was surprised when he found your eyes trained on him or, rather, trained on his abdomen that seemed to stick out from his tight white shirt. Still unaware of his eyes on you, your own eyes trailed up to his arms, watching as they flexed with each pull-up. Feeling flustered by your fixed gaze, Harrison faltered a little, and your eyes immediately darted back to Davey in front of you. Harrison couldn’t help the proud smile that ghosted his lips as he continued— you were checking him out.

Harrison finished his workout and decided to get cleaned up before heading to set in half an hour, leaving you and Davey in the gym. When he left, he was surprised that you were still spotting Davey, getting no work out in like you had planned. The whole time he was getting cleaned up (and brushing his teeth repeatedly to ensure he had good breath), he just kept picturing your staring in his head. He had worked very hard to get his body in this shape, and he was very proud of himself too, but he was even prouder that you’d clearly taken notice. If anything, it almost excited him that they’d be filming this scene today. There were a few times in this episode specifically in which Leo is shirtless, but none of those scenes had been filmed— and if this scene was going to be anything like it was scripted to be, then you’d definitely get a better show than in the hotel gym.

He didn’t see you again until the two of you were on set, in full costume and makeup. He had a loose shirt on, but underneath it, his chest had been painted with blues and purples to make convincing bruises. As he went to his mark, Leo’s makeshift bed on the floor of the cellar, Harrison spotted Davey across the set, looking bored and unhappy. His blue eyes drifted over to you next, and he refrained himself from smirking as he noticed your makeup artist applying chapstick to your lips.

While you gathered your prop lantern and the lights dimmed around you all, Harrison made himself comfortable under the ragged blankets. The director called out “Action!” and Harrison closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep as he waited for you to come into the shot. Hearing your footsteps, Harrison stirred, blinking his eyes open.

“Bea, is everything alright?” He asked, looking up at you as you stood over him.

“Let me see your body.” You said definitively.

“Beatrice—” He started, but you cut him off.

“Show me, Leo. I want to see it.” At your words, Harrison shifted slowly, moving as if in pain. He pulled the blankets down and went to roll up his shirt. “Take your top off.”

He paused, looking at you questioningly with a hint of fear in his eyes. Groaning a little, Harrison sat up and removed his shirt. He looked at you expectantly, and you set aside the lantern before kneeling on the blankets beside him. Your hand drifted over the painted bruise tentatively, ghosting over the same abs that you had been studying just hours earlier. Harrison waited for you to deliver your next line, knowing he was scripted to kiss you after it. It felt like ages that he was waiting for you, wanting nothing more than to kiss you right now. His mind went blank as your eyes found his and you leaned in to kiss him.

It was unscripted, and he was surprised, but he didn’t let his surprise stop him from immediately kissing you back. Your chapstick tasted of strawberries, just as it had the last time the two of you had a kissing scene, and he swore he was in love with the taste of it. He expected to hear the director yell cut, to hear him question why you suddenly improvised, but when nothing came, he just continued to kiss you. You pulled back, a shy smile on your face, “I don’t want you to hide your body from me anymore. It’s too nice to be hidden.”

His heart leapt as he leaned forward to catch your lips once more, this time scripted. His hands shuffled to your waist, pulling you down to lay beside him as he rolled onto his side, his chest leaning over yours. Your fingers tangled into his hair, and he savored the feeling.

You pulled back again, whispering up to him, “No more hiding.”

“No more hiding.” He reaffirmed. As he continued to kiss you, his hands sensually wandered down your back, keeping you as close to him as possible. Part of him wanted to pause the intimate scene and pinch himself, just to make sure it was really happening, but he was worried if he stopped kissing you now that he’d never get the opportunity to kiss you like this again.

“Cut!” The director called, and Harrison reluctantly pulled away from you. He could’ve sworn a small frown passed your lips as he looked down at you, not having shifted off of you yet.

“Spearmint— my favorite.” You teased quietly, as if it was only for the two of you to hear. As you laughed underneath him, Harrison couldn’t help but wonder what his younger self would think if he knew he’d one day get to make out with Y/N Y/L/N. Even if it was just for the show, it was a sight that he’d always want to remember.

“I’ve always enjoyed the taste of strawberries.” He replied softly, rolling away from you.

The director ran you two through a couple pointers for the scene, and, to Harrison’s surprise, he even suggested Bea kissing Leo first, just like you had improvised. You reasoned that you forgot your line momentarily, but something about the way you kissed Harrison made him feel like that wasn’t the case; no, it seemed like you’d truly wanted to kiss him.

After running through the scene a few more times, the director was satisfied. While you stayed behind on set to film more scenes, Harrison returned to his hotel room. Just as he was searching his toiletry bag for some much-needed chapstick, his phone began to ring with a Facetime call. Seeing Harry’s contact photo light up on his screen, he accepted and set his phone aside momentarily. He didn’t need to wonder what Harry (and most likely Tom, Tuwaine and maybe even Sam) were calling about— he had made the dire mistake of telling his easily-excited best friends about today’s scene.

“Why are we looking at your ceiling?” Harry asked almost immediately.

“I’m, uh, looking for lip balm.” Harrison admitted quietly and smiled to himself when he found some. He quickly put it on and then grabbed his phone, heading to his bed where he could comfortably talk to his friends.

As expected, his friends let out an incoherent chorus of excitement. Sam seemed to calm down enough first to ask (more like, shout through the phone), “How was it?”

“Does she really kiss with tongue? Remember Jack used to say-” Tom started, and Harrison scoffed, hearing the name of one of their old classmates who swears he had a summer fling with you once.

“I still don’t believe him, but no, not today at least.” Harrison was honestly a bit embarrassed to admit it. You were in a relationship… with a possibly cheating moron, but still. It just didn’t feel right to talk about you in that way.

“Not today? So there could be another time!” Tuwaine shouted encouragingly.

“Is she still with that prick?” Tom asked.

“Yes, but,” Harrison paused, and they all looked at him expectantly, waiting for elaboration, “I think he might be cheating on her.”

“What makes you say that?” Harry questioned. “Mate, just because you fancy her doesn’t mean her boyfriend’s a cheater.”

“No, I mean I heard him on the phone, and he said he was in Liverpool for business, not for his girlfriend.” He reasoned, “I’m just very suspicious of him.”

“You should tell her if you think he is.” Sam stated, “If he isn’t, then, oh no, you’re on bad terms with her boyfriend, who probably already hates you after today. If he is, well, she’d hate you if she finds out you kept it from her.”

Harrison let out a small sigh as the others nodded. “I don’t know. It’s not my place. Besides, she said something a few weeks about him wanting an open relationship. Maybe it’s that?”

“Okay, look, forget I asked about him.” Tom said, shaking his head, while the others looked at Harrison skeptically through the phone, “How was it to finally have your drama school dreams fulfilled?”

“Fucking heaven.” Harrison admitted with a laugh.

For the next week, Harrison resisted the urge to tell you about Davey. He wanted to, he really did, but whenever he’d finally be alone with you and mentally prepare himself for the conversation, you would always just seem so happy and content. He couldn’t bring himself to disturb your happiness, especially when it was Harrison making you happy. After Davey left, it’s like something changed within you, and Harrison had no clue what it was, but he enjoyed it.

‘You have to tell her.’ Harrison read over his most recent text from Tom again. He let out a small sigh, trying to get the courage to tell you as you sat across from him at the booth.

It was Saturday, and you two, along with Darci, Jojo, and McKell, had made your way to a club, wanting to celebrate another week down. With only two episodes left to film, you all knew your time together was starting to run low. You were all a few drinks in by now, happily buzzed. Jojo and McKell were off somewhere, probably attempting to be each other’s wingmen. Darci was telling you a story so wild that Harrison wondered if it was even true. He finished the rest of his drink and shuffled out of the booth.

“I’m going to grab another drink.” Harrison said to you two, and, without waiting for a response, he left. He made no move to flag down the bartender, leaning against an empty spot in the bar. Pulling on the collar of his blue shirt, he started to feel hot, unsure if he could handle this.

“What happened to getting another drink?” You asked him, stepping up beside him.

“Where’s Darci?” He replied, not wanting to answer your question.

“Found a friend in the crowd.” You laughed and turned to flag down the bartender. You ordered a round of shots, to Harrison’s surprise.

“Are you good?” He asked skeptically.

“Yeah,” You nodded, but with how your eyes were glazed over the alcohol and another unreadable emotion, Harrison didn’t quite believe you. Playfully, you nudged him, “I should ask you the same thing. You’re the one who’s been moping all night for god knows why.”

“I haven’t been moping.” He argued as a tray of four shots was placed in front of you two. You handed one to him and took one for yourself.

“Cheers to another week done.” You clinked your shot glass against his before both of you downed them.

As you went to grab your second shot, Harrison reached a hand and stopped you. Concerned, he asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Davey and I broke up— for good this time.” You admitted, and his hold on your wrist softened while he looked at you pitifully. “He told me when he was here that he went through with his ‘open relationship’ plan, even though I never agreed to it, so he’s been basically cheating on me since I left for this job. Then tonight, he drunkenly texts me, and I know it’s just a booty call. He’s done it for years, but now I actually see it for what it is. So now, my shitty boyfriend is gone, I’m finally single, and my only plans for tonight is to get properly drunk. Maybe even hookup with a stranger— god knows it’s been a while since I had decent sex.” Harrison was speechless, and you continued, a smile finding its way to your face at the end of your venting. “Dance with me after this shot?”

“Do I have a choice?” He asked playfully, feeling your mood lighten once more. You winked at him, handing him a full shot glass. He made a mental note to keep a close eye on you and to keep you from drinking anymore.

After you both drank back the burning liquid, you grabbed his hand and pulled him out to the dancefloor. Harrison had felt the alcohol that was flooding his system earlier, but the colored lights, pounding music, and countless bodies around him seemed to make the alcohol hit him harder. There was a weight off his shoulders, knowing you were actually single as you danced with him, and yet he still felt strange about his current state with you— were you truly into him or was he just the first guy you could drunkenly hook up with?

You turned to face him, a small frown on your face, “Haz, you’re being a bit of a killjoy.”

It was then that he realized, while you were fully grinding on his body, he was relatively motionless. Your hands found his, and you planted one on your hip and another on the small of your back, low enough though that it teetered being on your ass. You leaned in closer to him, letting him get a whiff of your perfume. While one of your hands trailed along the hem of his shirt, daring to even dip below his shirt, the other traced through his hair.

As you planted a kiss on Harrison’s neck, not caring at all for the dancing bodies around you, you heard him let out a strangled groan of your name. Your nails light scratched over the deep V in his hips, hooking onto where his jeans met the line.

“Should we get out of here?” You asked Harrison, your lips right next to his ear as your voice dripped with seduction. He felt his heart flip with intoxicating excitement before he was immediately reminded of the gravity of the situation. You went to kiss him, but he moved back quickly, stepping out of your reach. Pouting, you asked, “Do you not want me? After all this time?”

“No, I do.” Harrison insisted. “I want you, but not like this, not when you’re drunk. You’re not in the right headspace for this. I don’t want to be your drunken rebound.”

“How can you be a rebound when it’s always been you?”

Harrison sighed. Oh, how much he’d love to hear that from you— sober. He was saved from having to reply when Darci, McKell, and Jojo found you two. They looked at the two of you skeptically, but Harrison just shook his head.

“I’m going to take Y/N back to the hotel.” He said as he stepped closer to the group so that they could hear him over the music.

“We’ll come, too.” Jojo insisted, even though, with his words slurred and his eyes glazed over, he was thoroughly drunk, too.

“Where did Y/N go?” McKell asked, realizing your sudden absence.

“Oh god,” Harrison muttered, and the four of them dispersed in the crowd to find you, tripping over the other sweaty bodies. Darci found you first, unable to stop you from having a couple more shots.

“No, no, you’re done.” She argued with you. You reached for the last shot that she had taken from you, but, in your intoxicated state, you easily lost your balance. Harrison quickly wrapped an arm around your waist to hold you up.

“I don’t think she can walk.” Jojo commented.

“What gave that away?” McKell asked sarcastically.

“Come on, let’s get you home.” With a small sigh, Harrison, as the most sober of the group (though he still felt fairly tipsy), proceeded to lead you out of the club.

Darci hailed a cab for the five of you, and while it was an illegally tight fit, you all made it work. You leaned on Harrison as he was pressed right up against you. On your other side sat Jojo. You mumbled softly to Harrison, one of your hands falling onto his knee, “Do you remember that year when they put up mistletoe at school?”

“Where are you going with this?” He asked you softly.

“I saw you kiss Vivian at the one outside of the gym, and I couldn’t walk in that area for three months without thinking of you. I was so jealous of her, and you just looked like such a good kisser, which I’m happy to report you are.”

“Babes, maybe stop with the drunk talking.” Darci said, because all of you could tell this was stuff sober you would never say.

Harrison looked at you in surprise— he barely even remembered when Vivian dragged him under the mistletoe, so the fact that you remembered and were jealous? And you said he was a good kisser, too. He felt a glimmer of pride overcome him.

“Ask me tomorrow, it’s the truth.” You shuffled in your seat, laying your head against Jojo’s shoulder, “Jojo, wanna know a secret?”

“Y/N, maybe-” Darci started, but Jojo cut her off.

“No, go on, Y/N.” He laughed, wanting to hear your drunk thoughts.

“Do you think I’d make a good Catwoman?” You asked, words slurring together as you grew tired.

“Catwoman? Like Anne Hathaway?” He questioned, and you hummed a ‘yes’. “Yeah, you’d make a good Catwoman.”

“Good. Tell Haz he needs to my Batman then.” Your voice was quiet, as if it was something just meant for the two of you to hear, but your voice wasn’t nearly as soft as you had thought it was, meaning Harrison and the rest of your friends were truly aware of your little drunken secret

“Okay, I’ll tell him.” Jojo reassured you, a shit-eating grin on his face as he glanced over your head to look at the embarrassed Harrison.

The rest of the car ride was silent, and Harrison helped you out of your seat. With the help of the others, he got you safely inside your hotel room. Everyone retreated to their own rooms, except for Harrison who stayed with you. He laid you down on your bed and went searching for your pajamas, which to his luck were stowed underneath your pillow.

“Can you change or—?” Harrison asked, holding out the clothes to you

“I’ve got it, though I wouldn’t mind you helping.” You said with a wink. As you started to change out of your club clothes, Harrison turned away from you and focused on getting out some much-needed pain reliever and a glass of water for you to have in the morning. He heard you shuffle on the bed behind him before you let out a small huff, “Hazzy, can you come here?”

Hazzy— that was a new nickname. To his surprise, you were already tucked up in bed, your previously worn clothes scattered on the floor around you. He set the water and meds on your nightstand before kneeling to your level, “What’s wrong, love?”

“Do you know why Davey wasn’t my first love?” You asked quietly, your eyes beginning to droop with sleep. You reached a hand out to tentatively run your fingers over his cheek before you cupped it, smiling softly at him.

He had a hunch, but he played along anyway, wanting to hear you say it, in case he never heard it again. “Why?”

“Because you were.” Your voice was so quiet that he barely heard you, but he was so glad that he did. He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, and you let your hand fall from his face.

“Get some sleep. We can talk in the morning.”

“Can you stay tonight? Please?”

“Of course, love.” Harrison stood to his full height, and when he looked at you again, you were already asleep. He softly readjusted the blankets on your bed to make sure you were warm enough, before he made his way over to the couch. Grabbing a throw blanket off the back of the couch, he settled into his bed for the night. Just like every other night lately, he drifted off thinking of you, but this time, there was an excited flutter in his heart.

The next day, Harrison woke up to you letting out a groan, loudly asking, “Why the fuck is it so bright in here?”

He slowly sat up from the couch to check on you. A smile crossed his face as you took the pain meds he’d left out and downed the glass of water. Your eyes seemed to bulge out of your head when you noticed his presence in the room. Laughing, he greeted you, “Good morning, sunshine.”

“Please tell me you miraculously don’t remember anything I said last night because I remember, and I don’t want to.” You said, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“Sorry to disappoint then.” He sent you a sympathetic smile.

With a sigh, you patted the spot beside you on your bed. Wordlessly, Harrison got up from the couch and came to sit beside you on the bed. He expected you to say something, but when you were silent, seemingly caught up in your thoughts, he spoke up, “Did you mean it? When you said I was your first love?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation in your reply, and you turned to finally meet his eye, “It was a very intense schoolgirl crush, hence why I hated Vivian after that mistletoe incident, but seeing you again just made me realize that it was more than just a crush. I’ve regretted saying no to you all those years ago ever since you came back into my life.”

“Well, I thought I was over my crush on you, but turns out, there are just some things time can’t change.”

A comfortable silence overfell you two again before you finally spoke up with the words that had been on your mind for weeks, “I think I’m in love with you.”

“I think I’m in love with you, too.” Harrison sealed his words by leaning in to kiss you.

With no script to follow now, he felt fireworks as you kissed him back. One of your hands drifted to the back of his neck, silently urging him to continue kissing you. His hands snaked around your waist before he shifted to lay on his back, rolling you on top of him. You deepened the kiss, your tongue finding its way into his mouth. He moaned at first, fully enjoying himself, before his lips curved into a smile, and he started to laugh against your lips.

“What’s so funny?” You asked, pulling away from his lips. His hands wandered from your hips up to where your own hands were resting on his chest, and he casually intertwined your fingers.

“It’s nothing.” He said in an attempt to play it off, but the smile on his face told you that whatever he was thinking was hilarious to him. “You remember Jack Evans? He told everyone that you were the best french kisser in school, and, well, he’s not wrong.”

You let out a scoff before giggling to yourself, “First of all, how many girls have you french kissed from drama school and should I be jealous? Second of all, Jack was an ass who couldn’t kiss for shit, but I’ll take it as a compliment that he told everyone that.” You leaned down until your lips were just barely touching, “And thirdly, do you want to keep talking about drama school, or do you want me to keep kissing you?”

“You don’t need to be jealous, but I kinda like that you are.” He replied with a cheeky smile. “And you’re right. He was an ass.”

“And for the last one?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him.

Harrison pretended to think about it for a second before he let go of your hand to cup your cheek, bringing your lips crashing back down to his.

[outercrasis]

Sessions

Pairing: College!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: None (let me know if I missed something!)

Summary: Everyone is talking about the mysterious new guy on campus

A/N: I had a ton of fun writing this extremely self-indulgent AU and I have plans to keep writing more about these two. It won’t be an actual chaptered fic, but at some point I’ll throw together a masterlist with a chronological order to things.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Introductions

The semester had only started four weeks ago and he was already a legend around campus. Almost everywhere someone could be found whispering about him. You'd even heard faculty speculating, wondering about the rumors they overheard their students sharing.

You first heard of him in your literature seminar, some of your fellow classmates discussing a recent rumor about the now fabled man. Something about a motorcycle and a child caught your ear, prompting you to interrupt and the girls in front of you who they were talking about. 

The looks you received from the pair were incredulous at best. “You mean you haven’t heard about him?”

“Heard about who?” you asked, genuinely confused. It had only been the first week of class at the time and you were too caught up with your own busy start to check in on the rumor mill.

“Mando, obviously. He’s all anyone is talking about.” From there the girls had happily filled you in on all the latest sightings and rumors. 

Mando, as they called him, was shrouded in mystery. He'd popped up on Corellia University's campus when the semester began and no one knew a thing about him. He hadn't gone to Corellia before, internet searches turned up nothing, and even the skull-like symbol on the back of his leather jacket wasn't familiar to anyone. Any information on him was conjecture at best and there was plenty to go around. Once the rest of the class caught onto what you three were discussing, theories began to fly.

People discussed how he’d been spotted downtown, beating on some guys in a back alley. He’d also been seen uptown the same night though, strolling through Basalt Park. One girl was nearly certain that she’d gone to elementary school with Mando, but he’d mysteriously disappeared one day without explanation. Someone else was confident he was just a cop trying some weird shtick to go undercover. Then one person insisted he had a kid with him sometimes while another was trying to explain that he was actually a murderer. The rumors only became more ludicrous from there.

By the end of the discussion you only ascertained two things for certain. He went by the name Mando and he wore some kind of special helmet. Information you could have gotten by watching him pick up a drink at the Java Hut. Not nearly enough to warrant this level of fervor in your opinion.

From there, hearing about Mando was inescapable. You got home that night only to have your roommate and best friend, Layla, launch into theories about him. Within the week someone set up a social media page to try and track his location around campus via DMs fellow students sent in. That had struck you as invasive and unsettling, but the messages about him kept flooding in.

By pure chance, you had yet to actually see him for yourself. There weren't even any creep shots for you to look at. People had been trying to take photos of him, but he was like a ghost. In the time it took them to pull up their cameras he'd disappear. 

There wasn't even more concrete information about him beyond what you'd learned that first day. Just more and more speculation, a good amount of it made up purely for the shock factor. Another week slipped by, the semester picking up, and Mando news became standard in your day. There was always something new going around about him and as much as you tried to avoid it and focus on your studies, you couldn’t help but wonder about him yourself.

Who was this guy? Was this all some stunt or ‘social experiment’ that would be revealed by a sociology student at the end of the semester? Or was he a legitimate peculiarity, doomed to stick out like a sore thumb? You weren’t sure if you should hate him for making a big deal out of himself or pity him for all the unwarranted attention. Either way, you were sure that whenever you met this enigmatic Mando, you’d know.

×××××

You grumble looking at the submission form. The name and student ID information is blank again. You told Todd last week those fields needed to be made mandatory. How else were you supposed to know who to email when you end up with a no-show for the hour?

Looking further down you're pleased to note that they're at least a grad student. Despite the unfinished form, graduates almost never skip sessions like these. You're thrilled to have the opportunity to discuss something other than freshman composition for once. It's fun helping the wide-eyed freshies, but you can only go over basic comma rules so many times before you start to lose it a little.

There's a knock at the study room door and you look up only to be rendered speechless. It's him. Mando. With a kid on his hip. So Alissandra hadn’t been lying when she told you about the toddler she saw with him. Interesting. Continuing to take him in, you can’t help but focus on the obvious - the only thing you knew about him other than his supposed name, the helmet. 

It’s unlike anything you've seen before. You're fairly certain it's a motorcycle helmet, but it's been modified. Rather than the typical rounded shape, his is all sharp angles and flat at the front. It’s colored a sleek, shining chrome that gleams under the washed out fluorescent lighting. Most arresting is the way he's changed the face of the helmet. The cheeks dip inward at a sharp angle, creating deep, curved contours. His visor is a T of black glass in the center, entirely impossible to see through. It's intimidating and… kinda hot?

The little boy he's holding starts to wiggle in his grasp, physically demanding to be set down in the study room. Once his feet touch the floor, he immediately runs over and climbs into the chair next to you. He's a welcome distraction from his father’s? brother's? guardian's? commanding presence in the room.

The boy can't be older than three, smiling up at you with a wide toothy grin. His hair is covered by a green beanie with large floppy ears sewn onto it and he's wearing a little brown jacket with a sherpa collar. Maybe a bit too heavy for the early autumnal weather, but if the rumor that the kid rides on a motorcycle with Mando is true, it’s perfect. His eyes are large and brown, shining up at you with a slightly mischievous glint.

"Hello, what's your name?" you ask, smiling back at the child.

"Grogu," comes the reply, not from the kid, but from Mando.

You arch an eyebrow at him. He can't be serious with that name. "Grogu?" you ask.

He shrugs, placing his bag on the table. "I came home one day and he told his babysitter that was his name now. He won't respond to anything else. So, Grogu."

You look back to the bouncing toddler. He's still grinning, nodding along with what's been said about his name. They must not be lying then. Either that, or it was some elaborate prank between them and you would never be in on the joke. 

"Well okay, Grogu it is." 

You extend your hand out to Mando, offering your name alongside it. He offers a leather clad hand in return, giving you a firm handshake. You're pleased when he only gives your hand a gentle squeeze, not crushing it like so many other students have done. His gloves are unique as well, black with orange fingers, the leather well worn in. It's warm to the touch, his body heat radiating through the thick fabric. 

"Mando," he says, officially introducing himself as he takes the seat on your other side, across from Grogu.

"Mando," you repeat, cementing it as a truth from the rumor mill. "Got any other names?" You hope that comes across as casual and not intrusive. He hasn't even gone to remove his helmet, telling you he isn't a man who cares much for people prying into his business.

"No. Why?" Mando cocks his head slightly as he asks, the helmet adding an exaggerated look to the movement. He reaches into his bag, pulls out some crayons and a pad of paper, pushing them over to Grogu.

You shrug, trying not to think about how you heard his name might be David from someone in your composition course. "Just thought I'd ask. One hears many things around campus and it's hard to tell what's true or not."

"What do you mean?"

That question makes you pause. Surely he knows. Part of you is still convinced he’s doing this act on purpose, trying to gain notoriety for some reason. The way he asked though, something about it tells you that the poor man is clueless about the buzz he's caused.

"Mando, you're like the talk of the town right now. We only just met but I've heard plenty about you," you explain. It's hard to tell with the helmet on, but you're fairly sure he's shocked underneath. Grogu ignores you both, excitedly scribbling away on his paper.

"I'm fairly sure most of it's just rumor and speculation, but still. You're like a thing around campus," you add.

He's quiet for a moment, his laptop only half out of his bag. "Oh," he finally says. "I didn't know."

Grogu gives a happy shriek not a second later, breaking the awkward tension that had begun to creep into the room. He's beaming, holding up his crayola masterpiece. On the paper there is what appears to be a hastily drawn frog using every color in the box.

Mando returns to himself, pulling his laptop the rest of the way and continues to get set up. "Great job, kid. It looks good."

Most people would have said that dismissively, a platitude to get their child to stop bothering them. When Mando says it though, the authenticity is palpable. He said six words and you can hear the pride lacing them all together. It’s sweet, the obvious affection this clearly private man has for the toddler. 

You can’t help but wonder what his connection to Grogu actually is. The way he spoke just then, if you had to put your money on it, you’d say father. The kicker then though is if he’s biological or not. And if not, then how else does a grad student get strapped with a three year old? Thinking about all the potential scenarios is enough to make your head hurt.

You’re also left wondering where all the more violent rumors about him are coming from. His tenderness is so readily on display that it’s hard to imagine the man before you choking someone because they cut him in line at the local froyo shop. He’s mysterious and gives off a vaguely dangerous vibe, sure, but less than five minutes around him and the kid and it’s obvious he’s no threat to you. He’s just a guy trying to get his assignments done for class, same as everyone else.

Your stomach still catches in your throat as Mando starts unexpectedly tugging off his gloves. From what you’d heard, he never takes anything off: not his jacket, not his gloves, and certainly not his helmet. All anyone knows of his true appearance on campus is that he’s obviously male with rumors flying around about everything else including simple attributes, like the color of his skin. Now, here he is, casually revealing this groundbreaking information to you.

His hands move fluidly, pulling off each glove in just a few easy tugs. His skin matches the heat you felt from them just minutes ago, a warm golden tan, with a few faded lines of scars worn in. Watching him type, pulling his paper up for you to discuss, you feel a deep and sudden ache to have his hands touch you again. A simple handshake is no longer enough. Every stroke of the keys is measured, deliberate, and leaves you wondering how he would use those fingers on you.

“This is what I have so far.”

His voice snaps you back to reality, a quick wave of shame washing over you. Where did all of that come from? It was just a man’s hands for heaven’s sake, certainly not something you should be horny about at two in the afternoon. Not to mention that he came in here looking for your help, not wanting you to start fantasizing about his hands expertly working you over.

You clear your throat and tear your eyes away from the offending appendages. “Great, let me just read the introduction here so I can get an idea for what you’re writing about.”

You settle into working with him easily. His paper is already well-written, just needing tweaks here and there to bring it to the next level. It’s nice working with him. He’s attentive, clearly listening to everything you have to say and taking it into account. He doesn’t even try to challenge you as some of the more macho male students are wont to do. By the end of the session, you can’t help but wish all of your time as a tutor was that easy.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely, tucking his laptop away. “You really helped.”

You smile at him, thrilled with his genuine complement. “Of course, that’s what I’m here for.”

He finishes packing up his and Grogu’s things, with you silently lamenting as his gloves slide back on. It still feels like a ridiculous thought, but he really does have beautiful hands. There’s a small tap on your arm and you look to your left to see Grogu patiently waiting. He’s offering something to you, paper outstretched in his little hands.

“Thank you,” you say, taking the sheet from him. You look at it to see a frog carefully drawn on the page. It’s not the same as the first one he showed you and Mando, this one more deliberate and thoughtful. The colors are still just as varied, but it’s obvious he took more time to think about where he was using each one. You can’t help but smile at his small masterpiece.

“It looks great, buddy. I’ll keep it forever,” you tell him. Grogu beams at your praise, excitedly looking over to Mando. 

Mando nods at the kid. “Yeah kid, I heard her too.” He turns his head towards you. “Thank you again. I’d take good care of that drawing. He’ll never forgive you if he finds out you got rid of it.”

“Does that mean I’ll be seeing you again?” Your own boldness takes you by surprise. You have no idea where that came from, how those words spilled without a second thought. Part of you is already cringing at Mando’s potential reaction.

He surprises you once again though, holding a hand out for Grogu to take. Shouldering his backpack, you hear an amused huff of air from under the helmet. “Yeah, mesh’la, I’ll see you around.”

There isn’t a chance to reply as Mando turns, escorting his tiny charge out of the room with him. You’re a little dumbstruck, now equally surprised with him as you had been with yourself. 

And what was that name he just called you? Mesh’la? You don’t even know what language that could have been, much less the meaning. Something about his tone when he said it tells you it’s a good thing though, that he’s not secretly calling you rude names in some unknown language. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever get to find out.

.

.

.

taglist: @honestly-shite

[askyourwritergrandma]

Hey can you help me with some tips on writing flirting? I have two male characters that meet and are supposedly straight. How do I subtly show flirting with one of them and he realizes the other might be gay? The "gay" one is charming and the "straight" one is trying to seduce him. Thanks

Hello anon!

I think writing flirting is one of the more fun things you can do because while there is kind of a right and wrong way to go about it, you can have two characters flirting over basically anything. The opportunities for humor and good fun abound.

Even in your situation with subtlety and uncertain sexual orientation, you could just have them flirting over a stack of history textbooks. They could flirt over potholes. Flirt about their favorite Olympic sport. etc.

Ok, so a few basics:

Flirting is about tone and intention. This is why you can two people flirt over just about anything. In fact you can make any sentence a potentially flirty sentence as long as the intent and tone is right. Most of that tone is accomplished by grammar but you can throw in some narrative cheats too.

Take this conversation:

"Your brakes are completely shot. It's a miracle you're still alive driving around in this thing." "So, how long to fix it?" "You're not going anywhere tonight. Not in this car."

Standard grammar, no narrative. This comes across as probably not a pleasant conversation but a routine one also. No flirting at all. What we need to do first is test out how we can use grammar to our advantage. Italics, commas, different sentence structures and etc especially in dialogue is how you really make it human and emotive.

"Your brakes are completely shot. It's a miracle you're still alive driving around in this thing." "So," he said, "how long to fix it?" "You're not going anywhere tonight," he answered. "Not in this car."

So it's not perfect but we've changed the tone here. The emphasis we added changed it from some poor mechanic in a shop dully informing a random customer that he's going to be paying them so much money to a conversation that has slightly more personality. We also broke up the two bottom sentences which both implies a longer pause between the two sentences and can serve to really draw the reader's attention to both halves as separate.

Most importantly is the italics on the word "this" in the last one. Oh you're not going home in this car but my car? well it's warm and the brakes are fine. (wink, wink)

Because flirting involves a lot of body language and tone of voice to be successful, the next step is to add in more narrative cues.

Albert had never been so nervous to deliver an obvious diagnosis in his life. Nobody liked to hear they were going to be out hundreds of dollars, but dealing with the unknown reaction of customers was just part of the job. That's what this was, just his job. There was no reason to still be standing behind the counter, pretending to move papers around, watching the man on the other side patiently waiting to hear the news. But there he was, shuffling one paper on top the other, taking the last precious seconds to prepare himself for the unknown. "Your brakes are completely shot. It's a miracle you're still alive driving around in this thing." "So..." Harold wasn't looking at him with any spite. He hadn't even flinched at the news, like maybe he'd just been driving around making the problem worse so he could end up here right now. In fact, while most customers voices went high and hateful, Harold's whole body seemed to ease closer, lean into the counter as his voice settled into something warm and inviting. Even his lips were pulling into a friendly smile. "How long to fix it?" Forever. It was going to take days, possibly weeks. Hell, Albert could drag this out for months if it was going to end with Harold smiling at him like this. Maybe his voice was unsteady, and maybe he wasn't the smoothest but, he thought he did alright when he said: "You're not going anywhere tonight. Not in this car."

And now we have the real meat of our flirting. We know they're flirting because Albert is obviously very into the idea of it. He wants Harold's attention and he's hyper aware of everything that Harold does in response to what he says. He's reading into what he sees and his interpretations of Harold's actions are all romantic/flirty.

So a few things to try in your own story:

During scenes where someone is flirty, even if they aren't sure they're interested in guys, make it obvious that they want that other person's attention

Let the narrative be a little playful, let a bit of romantic fancy get into your descriptions. Is Harold wilting romantically into the countertop? We don't know, but Albert sure thinks so.

Flirting is like issuing an invitation. There's always the implication that you should return and continue.

Play around with your grammar and where you split your sentences because it makes a huge difference.

You can certainly concentrate on rapid heartbeats and minute descriptions of expressions/actions but make sure you add in emotions too. If you're going to show them clenching their fist out of deep desire to touch someone, tie those two concepts together.

Good luck friend! I hope this helped a bit.

[deannaroxannewrites]

Tropetember Day 11 - Time Travel / Amnesia / Coma

Coma comma revelation

Pairing: James T Kirk x GN!Reader

Fandom: Star Trek AOS

Rating: General Audiences

TW: Coma, minor swear

AN: Day 11 of @tropetember. Sorry for the wait, life has been a bit mad. Not the best but hope you enjoy :)

The aftermath of an away mission gone wrong.

Find this story on Ao3 here.

Word Count: 1.3k

It wasn’t uncommon for members of an away crew to end up in the sickbay upon their return to the Enterprise. Injuries regularly ranged from small cuts and bruises to native diseases to broken bones. A visit to Dr McCoy was something all members of the crew had to mentally prepare before beaming down. What was uncommon was for people to be in the sickbay for longer than an overnight stay.

Spock and Kirk had both had a couple of longer stopovers following heroic (read: risky) actions. Dr McCoy dreaded either, or worse both of them, being there because they were both hard-headed and constantly tried to sign themselves out against medical advice. Luckily, this wasn’t something McCoy had to worry about with the current resident of the sickbay. What was happening was far more worrying. Because you had been in a coma for 4 days now and nobody had any clue as to what to do.

Running his hand down his face, Dr McCoy’s gaze remained laser focused on the most recent test results, trying to find an answer. Any answer. Even a clue. Nothing. There was nothing indicating why you weren’t waking up.

Sighing quietly to himself he got up and headed to your room, checking on the monitors. He hadn’t even realised anyone else was there until he turned to exit.

Stood leant against the wall next to the door, Captain James T Kirk stood like a sentry. His eyes watched everything in the room, in between regularly checking on you. The Doctor pressed a hand to his heart as he processed his surprise. Had Kirk not been wearing his yellow command shirt, chances are McCoy wouldn't have even noticed him with how still he was standing.

“Jim, you’re the Captain not a shadow” he observed, his normal gruffness softened slightly.

The gentle rebuke received no response from Kirk. He simply flicked his eyes from the body in the hospital bed to McCoy and back again.

It was clear to see that all was not right with the Captain. His uniform was creased, his eyes red. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

“Jim, you ok?”

A small sigh and a shake of the head is all he receives in response. McCoy props himself up against the wall next to him, a show of silent solidarity.

"They weren't even supposed to be there, Bones."

You'd opted to go on the away mission instead of Mr Spock to allow the Vulcan some time off from Kirk-sitting, and as part of your push to keep at least one of them on the ship at all times. "Cos, you know, regulations" was all you scoffed when someone pointed out that they'd both made a break for it onto some distant moon, leaving you as Lieutenant Commander in charge of the ship.

The additional position had been created to help support the demands of a 5 year mission on the crew as a whole. Given the Enterprise's tendency to have an engineering emergency in the middle of crisis, Mr Scott was often unable to support in the way the Chief Engineer may on other ships. You bridged the gap, allowing Kirk, Spock and Scotty to hand over some of their day-to-day responsibilities to focus on the extreme.

Though they had initially railed against it, they would all now agree that your presence had improved the efficiency of the ship. It also allowed them all some welcome downtime. The crew appreciated that more than they would ever admit in front of the higher-ups. Kirk in particular could get bitchy when he was tired.

Something that no one would have predicted about adding you to the crew, was the depth of the friendships you had formed with the command crew. In particular, you had developed a close friendship with the Captain, despite his initial wariness. You and Jim were regularly spotted in observation watching the stars float by whilst having a drink, or heading to each other's quarters with a holodisk in hand.

Jim, for his part, had been reluctant to get to know you. The Captain of a starship is supposed to be separate from the rest of their crew. But, as with the interpersonal relationships between the crew, the length of the mission had required these expectations be adjusted in the interest of crew morale.

The outcome of the slow blossoming relationship with you was something he had not predicted. Where he always felt responsible when crew were hurt, the shot of ice through his system when he saw you being stabbed with a syringe was much, much stronger. More importantly, his almost visceral reaction had been completely unexpected. He was the Captain, he had to look out for everyone. Yet, he spent every second of the day and night since returning to the Enterprise worrying about you.

Drawing himself back from his thoughts he glances to Bones, who is watching him with a combination of concern and soft understanding.

“We have the best people in the Federation working on this Jim.” He gently grasps Kirk’s upper arm. “They’ll be ok. You’ll get them back.” He pauses then, glancing between the two of them. “Then you can maybe have an honest conversation about the two of you.”

Kirk sharply glances at him over his shoulder before allowing his own shoulders to sag.

“I hadn’t even realised,” he quietly whispers, moving to the side of the bed. He takes your hand in his before sitting down next to the bed. “It’s not allowed, Bones.”

McCoy for his part just smiles at him.

“Never stopped you before”

That gets a small smile out of the Captain as he turns his eyes back to you. He’s so focused on you that he doesn’t even notice as Dr McCoy slips out to head to his office.

-----------

Waking up after being unconscious for an unknown amount of time is, in a word, disorienting. The sickbay lights are bright, your throat is dry and sore and your head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton wool.

It takes you a while to come to but you’re ever so grateful to hear Dr McCoy's southern drawl welcoming you back.

“There you are darlin’, you had us worried.”

You let him run all of his tests without complaint, using the time to orient yourself. It’s not until he’s nearly finished that you notice there’s someone else in the room. You throw Jim a small smile, followed by a grimace as McCoy hits you with a hypospray.

“That should be everything for the minute,” McCoy tells you. “We’re going to keep you in for observation for a few days but your recovery is going as well as we could have hoped.”

You smile in relief at that, and he tells you he’ll be back in a few minutes before he heads out of the room.

After taking a moment to shuffle yourself into a more comfortable position, you wave a hand at Jim to beckon him over. He takes a gentle hold of your hand as he moves closer. It fills you with warmth and you can’t help a small smile.

“Managed not to blow up the ship while I was out of commission then?” you tease, wanting the frown to disappear from his face. He shakes his head in response.

“I honestly don’t know. I haven’t really left this room.”

You glance at him surprised, and then see the soft expression on his face. Huh. You thought it was just you.

Taking the plunge, you gently tug at his hand until he slides into bed next to you, your head resting on his chest. The beat of his heart starts to lull you back to sleep.

It’s probably best to rest while you can, you decide. You’ve got a lot to talk about.

[where-our-stories-start]

How to Write Dialogue, Part 2: Formatting and Dialogue Tags, or Being Clear About Who’s Talking

So, we’ve all struggled with dialogue tags. In short, they’re a headache. We need them to tell our readers who the hell is talking, but it’s easy to get bogged down in exactly what verb you want, where to put the tag, etc. Do you use ‘said’ over and over? Do you vary it up with ‘exclaimed’ and ‘shouted’ and ‘inquired’? Do you just say fuck it and leave them out altogether?

I’m going to write a second post about how to effectively make decisions about your dialogue tags, but for this post, let’s just tackle formatting.

1. Placement and punctuation of tags

Dialogue tags can go before or after the spoken text; it’s largely a matter of preference and style. They can also go in the middle of a longer quote.

If the tag comes at the beginning, it should be separated from the quote by a comma.

If the tag comes at the end, it should be separated from the quote by a comma unless the quote ends with something other than a period, like a question mark or an exclamation point.

If the tag is in the middle of a single spoken sentence, there should be commas before and after it. The first letter of the resumed quote should be lowercase.

If the tag is between two spoken sentences, there should be a comma before it and a period after it. The first letter of the resumed quote should be capitalized.

So, some examples of correctly formatted tags:

Shanti said, “I can’t wait for school tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait for school tomorrow,” Shanti said.

“I can’t wait for school tomorrow!” Shanti said.

“I can’t wait for school tomorrow,” Shanti said, “but I know you’re nervous.”

“I can’t wait for school tomorrow!” Shanti said. “My presentation will be awesome.”

Remember that you should only put a tag in the middle of a quote if the character is taking a beat there, because it will break up the speech for your reader. Take a look at these two examples:

“Do you want to join the staff baseball team?” Fred asked. “I think you’d like it.”

“Do you want,” Fred asked, “to join the staff baseball team? I think you’d like it.”

In the first example, the dialogue tag is placed correctly. It falls in the gap between the two sentences, where Fred would naturally take a breath. In the second example, we’ve got an unnatural pause in the middle of Fred’s first sentence, and it makes the line feel clunky. That doesn’t mean there’s a hard and fast rule about breaking in an unusual place, but you should do it deliberately, when your character is actually pausing for emphasis.

At that moment, Sonya came running into the room. In her arms, she held the biggest, hairiest, ugliest cat her friends had ever seen.

“What,” Simon said, “do you call that?”

In this case, Simon is actually pausing after just one word. Putting the dialogue tag where it is helps convey his tone.

2. You can use actions as dialogue tags

One of the ways to avoid the dreaded “I feel like I’ve used ‘said’ a million times” problems is to use actions as dialogue tags. Basically, this means that instead of specifically saying the character said/asked/exclaimed/etc. the text, you simply place their action next to the dialogue. This can also happen before, after, or in the middle of their spoken text, but unlike an actual dialogue tag, it should always be treated as its own sentence. Where you put it depends on both your style and on whether your character acts before speaking, after speaking, or while speaking.

Pedro grinned and slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Oh, this is gonna be awesome. I cannot wait.”

“Oh, this is gonna be awesome. I cannot wait.” Pedro grinned and slung his backpack over his shoulder.

“Oh, this is gonna be awesome.” Pedro grinned and slung his backpack over this shoulder. “I cannot wait.”

3. Each new speaker/actor gets a new paragraph

This is one you probably vaguely remember learning in elementary school, but it’s a lot simpler when your characters all speak one at a time in basic [subject-verb-object] sentences.When you’re writing complex conversations, it’s easy to get muddied up.

Basically, every time we switch focus to a new character, they get a new paragraph. Mostly this means when they speak, but it also includes nonverbal forms of communication. For example:

“Are you coming to the movie?” David asked.

“I think so,” Shaun said, “but I have to double check with my dad.”

David frowned and said, “He can’t still be mad about your math grade, can he?”

Shaun shrugged.

“Whatever, man,” David continued. “We’ll help you figure it out somehow.”

Notice that Shaun gets his own paragraph even when he’s just shrugging. If we put that action in the middle of David’s speech, our reader has a hard time keeping track of who they’re “watching” at any given moment. With more complicated actions, they might even get confused about who’s acting and/or talking.

So what happens if a more complex action comes from a character who’s also talking? Well, it kind of depends. If the speech and action are pretty interspersed, you can put them all together:

“I don’t know why you listen to her,” Naomi said. She put the phone on speaker and set it on the counter as she began to unpack her groceries. “It’s not like it’s any of her business.”

“I know, but she just won’t quit calling,” Tina answered.

This works, because Naomi is talking while moving around, so we want to experience both together. If she pauses, however, or if the action gets too unwieldy in our paragraph, we can give it its own paragraph.

“I don’t know why you listen to her,” Naomi said. “It’s not like it’s any of her business.”

She put the phone on speaker and set it on the counter as she began to unpack her groceries.

“I know, but she just won’t quit calling,” Tina answered.

When written this way, Naomi speaks to Tina and then moves on to unpacking the groceries, rather than doing both at the same time.

One thing to be wary of: your reader will expect focus to shift back and forth with each paragraph. That’s not a hard-and-fast rule--you can see above that Naomi gets two paragraphs in a row--but it does mean you have to be careful about splitting up a single character’s actions. A character can have two or more consecutive paragraphs if they’re carrying most of the conversation, but one character should never speak in two consecutive paragraphs. Dialogue in separate paragraphs must always be split by action. Consider this example, and note the confusion we run into:

Kiara bounced the basketball a few times and then tossed it to her sister. “I just don’t know if I want to be the editor, you know? I mean, I’ve liked writing for the newspaper, but editor’s a big responsibility.”

“You’d get to work with Alexa, though,” Alicia argued. She shot at the hoop, missed, and passed the ball back to Kiara.

“Yeah, I mean, I guess,” Kiara said. She raised her eyebrows at her sister in a challenge. Dodging Alicia easily, Kiara dribbled up to the hoop and sunk the ball through it.

“I guess I could say yes,” Kiara decided.

Alicia shrugged. “Just think about it is all I’m saying.”

See how after Kiara sinks the basketball, we expect the next statement to come from Alicia? It’s jarring when Kiara speaks again, because we’ve used the format to indicate we’re shifting perspective, but then we don’t actually shift away from her. Instead, we should either put it all in one paragraph, or give the action between her two statements its own paragraph.

Next time, I’ll get into how to choose your dialogue tags and what your different options do for you. Full series of these can be found here. I hope people find them helpful!

[airplanned]

Trill AU part 4

Sad times on the bridge, and I get to write technobabble

***

Part 1

They hurried down three corridors before Zelda said, "Does it seem strangely quiet to you?"

It did.  In the dim light, Link was trying not to ask himself the obvious question of where everyone was.  He made a sorry attempt to explain it.  "It's late and this deck is all personal quarters."

"But no one's reporting to emergency stations but us?"

So of course they turned the last corner to find a body on the floor. 

Ensign Bogts.  Zelda checked his pulse and rolled him over while Link popped open a nearby locker and pulled out a tricorder.  She took it out of his hands before he could start taking readings.  Lifting an eyebrow, he let her rudeness pass. 

"He's...fine?  His vitals are all normal."

His body did look relaxed, his face at ease and his chest softly rising and falling.

"He just passed out here?"

Her eyebrows pinched together as she continued to scan.  "He has an abnormal delta wave pattern.  It looks like a kind of artificial sleep."

"Is everyone on the ship like this?"

She looked up at him in concern.

He swallowed, looking down at Ensign Bogts as all the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. 

"So why not us?"

*

The bridge crew was passed out at their stations, and Link went straight to check the commander's pulse where he was slumped back in his chair.  Ensign Xik had fallen out of his seat at ops, and Zelda stepped over him neatly to take his seat.  "I should be able to get main power up," she said.  Link headed for the con, removing Lt Tate from his chair as gently as possible and laying him out on the floor.

A low hum built under their feet and the lights blinked back on.  Link took a relieved breath and pulled up a status report.  

"I have thrusters," he said.

"Bringing the main engine back online."

"We need shields and sensors."

"Give me one...you've got sensors."

He immediately ran a sweep.   "Sensor report coming in."

"On screen."

It was as if a sheen of oil was draped over the ship, a shimmer of green and pink dancing like the northern lights.  Zelda pulled up an image on her console and turned the whole thing so he could see.  It was as if the ship had run into a flat sheet, dragging it with them until it wrapped around the ship's nose and trailed behind them.  "It's giving off delta wave pulses.  That's what's putting everyone to sleep.  At a higher amplitude it could have knocked out main power.  Probably when we first hit it."

"We're caught in a net," he said.

She nodded.  "It doesn't look natural."

He turned back to the con.  "Let's not stick around and find out who caught us.  Can we get the shields back up?"

"Raising shields."

The lights went out.  The gentle, omnipresent rumble of the floor stilled as the engine shut down again.

Link tried to bring up a status report.  "Well, that didn't work.  Main power's back out."

She sighed.  "Bringing it back online."

Lights turned back on and they both held their breath, waiting for power to fail once more.

"No sudden moves," he said.

He checked the sensor's image of the phenomena.  "If we use minimal thrusters, it looks like we can back out of it."

"Decrease thrusters to quarter power."

That made it slow going, but there wasn't really a rush. ��He eased the ship back, back, watching the power read outs and the sensor image on the side of his console.

"Down two degrees," she said, and he adjusted course, hissing as the edge of the net caught around the port nacell, sending a tremor through the ship.

They froze.  He let the net settle, then tried again, pulling up and forward, only to strain against part of the net draped over the saucer section.

"It's tightening," she said.  And sure enough where before it looked like they were dragging an inanimate sheet behind them, that sheet was now tangled, adhering to the hull.

He lifted his hands from the console in surrender.

Zelda had out her tricorder again, this time running it over herself.  "I think it's the symbionts."

"Their brains aren't affected by delta waves."

"They must be keeping us conscious."

Link looked down at his terminal, running through his options.  Then he narrowed his eyes at her. 

She straightened.  "What?"

"You come aboard and the ship gets attacked by something that doesn't affect bonded Trills."

Her brief anxiety melted into annoyance.  "You think I did this."

He gave her a blank stare.

"Why would I do this?"

"Handing over a Federation vessel could be profitable.  Risky.  But you've gotten away with worse."

She folded her arms over her chest, giving him a scathing look.  "Everyone on board is asleep and you're still going to pretend that it was me that gave away the defense codes."

"Only two people knew those codes."

"That's right.  And of those two people, one of us vanished in the night.  The other stuck around and cleaned up your mess."

"The mess of my dead body?  That mess?  Tell me, how much blood was there?  Did you cut Fi out yourself or did you get someone like Groose to do it for you?"

Her change in expression was subtle--a barely noticeable stiffening, a faint drain of the color in her cheeks. She looked horrified. Haunted. She turned away, and tapped out some new controls on the console.

"What are you doing?"

"There's no point explaining myself to you."  Her voice shook.  "You're..."  Her fingers faltered.  She covered her mouth with a hand and took a shaking breath.  "You're just going to torment me until whoever comes to collect us shows up.  You're just going to blame me for everything you've done until I feel like I'm going crazy."

Link frowned.  When a tear skipped down her cheek he started to panic.

"Wait."

She shook her head, her trembling hands back at work.

"Zelda."  He reached for her, and she jerked away, spinning to glare at him, her arms gripping the console as if ready to run, her jaw set in a way that looked so much like Sheik--Sheik when she tried to look threatening to hide her fear.

He lifted his hands in surrender, searching her face.  

He couldn't see the lie.  He'd never been able to see the lie.  

But it must be there.  Right?

"What...what do you think happened?"

He didn’t have to specify when, which of the many incidents in their shared past was at the forefront of both their minds.

She stared at him for a long moment, gathering all her righteous indignation to power herself through her speech.  "Ravio vanished.  Everyone searched for days.  We didn't know what had happened.  And then suddenly...Suddenly the defense grid just dropped.  And one little shuttlecraft flew past.  Up and away toward the warship.  What I think happened was that Ravio sold us out so Fi could return to Trill."

Return to Trill.

He stared at her, shaking his head over and over as if that would make it stop.  

He had to fight to find his voice.  "Tetra sent Ravio a message to meet at tower 2.  She said she had good news, and he thought...  He was looking out the window, and the door opened behind me and I saw your shape in the reflection of the glass.  And then you shot me in the back. I woke up four months later in an asteroid mining facility in a different host. It took me days to get news and by then it was too late."

"Tetra never sent you any message."

"Ravio didn’t cut a deal to go back to Trill."

Her eyebrows pinched together.  "Fi wouldn't have survived for four months without a host."

"Yeah, but Pipit was a hot mess of a host.  It was an unstable bond.  He started off in a comma and then he was confused and panicky for more than a year before he calmed down.  He'd think it was the wrong year, that he was the wrong host.  He had disordered episodes for the rest of his life.  He lost time so often that four months is nothing."  Link caught himself.  "I say all that with love.  He went through a lot."

It startled a croak of a laugh from her.

And then they were staring at each other again.  

"I would never have killed you," she said.  “Please don’t make me think about his body.”

He quirked a sad smile.  "I want to believe that."

"I want to believe you, but...that might be me who wants that. It might be someone else.  Someone younger. Less wise. Someone who still looks at you and feels..." 

Warmth lit in his chest, and he hated it and loved it, and maybe it wasn't so messed up after all that he wanted so badly to trust someone who had hurt him so thoroughly.

"Yeah," he said.  "That about sums it up."

They stared at their consoles.  She wiped her eye with her wrist in a way she thought was discreet and he thought was endearing.

Carefully, he asked, "What's your next plan?" and gestured at the tricorder.

She cleared her throat.  "The EM pulses from the symbionts neutralize the delta waves, so if I can adjust the deflector beam to the same frequency modulation--"

"--With a wide enough confinement beam, we can neutralize the delta wave net."  He was already on it, his fingers flying over the console.

"We need to lower the power so we don't cause another blackout."

"It we adjust the--" 

Something dinged on his console.  Proximity alert.

He shared a look with her, trying to tell if this was the moment she'd shoot him again.  It was that same fierce look to protect herself, and who knew what that meant.

Another ding, and her voice turned tight as she said, "They're hailing us."

"Putting them on screen," he said.

A pair of Trils stared back at them.  "Oh," one of them said.  "We were wondering how you had power, but this makes sense."

Link tried to sound calm as he said, "This is the Federation Starship Naboris.  How can we help you?"

The Trills scoffed.  "I don't think you're in any position to help anyone."

Part 5

[sxfik]

and when the seasons change (will you stand by me?)

read on ao3 • main masterlist • law school masterlist

summary: when kang sol's mother has to work late, she has to take care of byeol. it's just her luck that she has an exam the next day, one for professor yang of all people. joon hwi, being the kind classmate he is, offers to study with her.

or: byeol is solhwi mastermind, and she's says everything we wanted to say to the two dummies.

request by anon: hiya! saw that you do solhwi prompts so I was thinking that Sol A has to babysit byeol but there's a big test the next day so she calls joon hwi over to help her w studying. meanwhile byeol(being iconic) tries to set them up in true shipper fashion.

a/n: this is based on a request i got on tumblr, pictured above! i have around 5 (ish) fics that will go out over the week so stay tuned for those lmao! uh yeah, i don't really know what else to say other than im really sad law school ended so i've just been sad and mopey, but still writing to fill that hole. as always, enjoy <333

Although Joon Hwi was the 'star' student of Hankuk Law School, he was never much for studying. It's not because everything came to him that easily, but because finding the strength to concentrate and study when he could be hanging out with his friends or doing anything better with his time was insanely tempting. Finding the effort to get to the library, and read up on his textbooks was arduous and he always found it easier to study by himself, no distractions around. This was, of course, until Kang Sol came along. For Joon Hwi, everything in his life was turned on its axis when she came into his life.

When he first met her, in Professor Yang's class, she was just the poor girl being grilled by the professor. His heart went out to her, watching her pull her hair out of the bun to avoid the question. He didn’t know what possessed him to answer for her, but he assumed it to be a one time thing. But from the moment she crashed into him yelling "Second Round Judicial Exam, save me!", he was stuck on her.

Slowly, she was everywhere in his life, from the study group to the legal clinic to a majority of his classes. Unlike so many of his classmates, who were by the book and generally clinical in personality, she was a fireball of energy and passion. In class, despite not being the best student, she would argue with so much passion and energy that it was impossible to win against her. It was fascinating, watching her connect and jump from case to case. She would throw herself into everything she believed in, which included defending him from the school and his uncle.

Joon Hwi has liked girls before, but he's never been so captivated and head-over-heels for anyone in his life. Love and dating seemed secondary, and he preferred to keep it out of his life until he reached his goals. You could call him selfish but he prefers to call it being focused on his goals. He's always had one goal in life, and it was to work with the law, whether as a judge or working as police or as a prosecutor.

Yet, if Kang Sol was in the room, his eyes were on her. Whether she was frustrated at him or teasing him or gleeful with him, he couldn't help but smile at her. If she was around, he was right by her side, making her laugh or cringe or annoyed.

So there he was, studying in the school library with Kang Sol. Professor Yang’s exam was right around the corner and unlike last time, he cannot miss the comma in the given case. Plus, he doesn’t even have the excuse of being accused of a murder this time, so both Sol and Joon Hwi were hunched over their books, pouring into the texts when Kang Sol’s phone blared loudly from her bag, startling them both.

Sol cringed as she dug around in her cloth bag, the classic dirty looks tossed her way by the sleep deprived students as she stood to leave the library and take the call. He buried himself back into the textbook, but the concentration was lost and he was more interested in the call she’d gotten than ins and outs of defamation laws.

Around 10 minutes later, Sol was speeding back to her chair, the phone clutched firmly in her hand. But Joon hwi could see her frustration from a mile away. Her face held that pout, her eyebrows furrowed and grumbling under her breath. It was adorable.

But he was worried, considering it was the day before the exam, Sol couldn’t afford to be distracted from her studies. He wasn’t blind to her struggles in school, but Joon Hwi never considered her lesser than him for not being able to pick up the concepts with speed.

Unlike him, and a majority of his classmates, she had passion and a heart when dealing with clients. He could see it in her mannerisms with clients in the legal clinic, patiently explaining the clause or the issues they might face to the client. She’s sympathetic to the max, always hearing out the client’s grievances before making a judgement on what they had done. She was exactly what the world needed: a sympathetic, patient lawyer that was willing to fight for the client, someone that they can cling to. He and every professor in the school knew it, but it seemed Sol was the only one who never realized how essential she was.

Suddenly, he felt himself getting up to gather his materials with her without a second thought, despite the confused look Sol shot him. He wasn’t sure what exactly possessed him to do it, but he knew that if she wasn’t there, he didn’t want to study at the library either. Grinning at her, he walked out, side by side until they were outside the quiet library. She paused in her tracks all of a sudden, taking him by surprise and he paused too, looking back at her, tilting his head in confusion.

"My mom needs to work late today, so I need to rush home and take care of Byeol," she looked up at him finally, her face apologetic. "I'm sorry, Joon hwi but I don't think I'll be able to study for the exam with you," she started to walk away, but he couldn't let her go that easily.

"I'll come with you," he offered, surprising himself, "I'll study with you. Plus, it'll be easier to take care of Byeol with two people than one, right?"

She paused, looking back at him, conflicted. Sighing, Joon Hwi stepped closer to her. "Come on, let's not keep her waiting. Shall we?" He was determined to keep her company, especially since she’d have less time to study since she’d have to take care of Byeol. It was easier this way, and I’d do this for any friend he told himself.

The ride there was slow and quiet, but not an uncomfortable one. They both walked in tandem, with their backpacks filled with everything they'd possibly need to study, and even the bus ride was peaceful, the two of them staring out the window, watching the scenery pass by them. Joon hwi sat beside her, rather than across from her like last time, just to save space on the bus. On the very empty bus they were riding together.

Days like this, where the air was heavy and humid, the earth preparing for a heavy rain, were the most comforting types of days. The air was still warm and humid, making Sol’s hair poof out slightly, her naturally wavy hair frizzing out of her bun. The feeling of her beside him, as if this was a regular ritual for both of them, brought a sense of content in his heart. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, whether it was the girl beside him or the past year’s chaos, but watching the trees and the traffic pass by them brought more peace to his life than ever.

The two made their way into the alleyway, where Joon hwi had once stood guard of when Lee Man Ho once lived, threatening her family. He's standing in front of Kang Sol's house behind her, holding her backpack in hand as she struggles with the keys.

Finally, finally, she gets the door open, and a figure zips by, crashing into Sol. Byeol’s arms wrapped Sol's waist, like the adorable sister she is. Sol stumbled back into him slightly at the sudden weight thrown onto her, but nonetheless, crouched to envelop her sister in a bone-crushing hug. Joon hwi couldn’t help but smile at the two sisters, their love for each other enveloping him

"Unnie!" she grinned up at her, "Did you bring him with you?" Her eyes were serious and wide as Sol opened her mouth to answer.

"Byeol-ah!" Joon hwi yelled out from behind Sol, peaking out to see the 8-year old grinning at him, much wider than she did at Sol. Ha!

"Joonhwi-oppa!" the girl squealed out, leaving Sol's grip to run to him. As she ran to him, he picked her up and twirled her in the air, the girl's giggles echoing through the small alleyway as the two greeted each other.

Sol, standing by the door, smiled faintly before calling out, "Come in, before either of you catch a cold!" Both of them filed in, incessantly chattering as if they hadn't seen each other in months, even though it had only been two weeks since Joon hwi had been by to take the two sisters out to the park.

"Oppa! Why did you come with Unnie?" Byeol asked, finally being set down inside the house, looking up at him curiously as Sol

"Ah, we have an exam tomorrow, so I'm here to study with her," Joon hwi replied.

"Good," the girl jumped onto the couch. "Unnie needs a lot of help," the girl quipped back, nodding her head solemnly, making her look a lot older than 8 years.

"Yah Kang Byeol!" Sol exclaimed, indignantly. Joon hwi chuckled at the two as Sol turned to him. "Here, we can work in the dining room," she moved to grab her backpack from him, stepping towards the dining room.

"NO!" Byeol yelled out at the both of them, her hand flying out to stop the two of them, "Unnie, you should work in your room instead! You know I'll be watching TV and obviously, it'd be too loud for you to focus," the girl rushed out, her doe-eyes a bit too wide, her voice a little too innocent. She is definitely plotting something, Joon hwi narrowed his eyes at her but she avoided the look, choosing to jump off the couch and walk towards them instead.

Before either of them could protest, the girl pushed the both of them towards, presumably, Kang Sol's bedroom. Sol awkwardly laughed at him, Joon hwi shooting her an amused look. They awkwardly stood in her room, Joon hwi avoiding her gaze and choosing to look at the walls instead. Her room here looked similar to the one she had back on campus. Her desk was stacked to the max, sticky notes lining the walls with old reminders and little notes of encouragement. It was neat, but brightly colored, which suited Sol so very well.

“Let’s get started shall we?” Sol finally said, clearing her throat, gesturing for him to set down his books. He obliged, sitting at her desk while she chose her bed. They both set up all their materials, the awkward silence shifting into a peaceful one, the two working themselves into a comfortable rhythm.

It had been almost an hour of straight studying, both of them regurgitating criminal codes and case precedents from memory. Joon hwi was sure that by this point that his mind was complete mush, and Sol was starting to wither, her eyes almost glazed over while she started into one of her casefiles. Her hair was a lot puffier than it was when they started. Turns out, Sol had a habit of ruffling her hair with her pencil each time she was confused or working herself too hard, which was often.

“Let’s take a break shall we? I’m going to get a glass of water,” he said, standing up and stretching his arms out, trying to put the two out of their misery. He yawned, the stiffness in his muscles finally noticeable when he stretched out. She nodded back to him, yawning and stretching out in her chair, before she picked up her phone to check some messages.

He walked out of her room and back to the living room, where byeol was still glued to her seat, her eyes on the TV playing some cartoon. Heading over to the dining table, he poured himself a glass of water with the pitcher, before heading back to check on Byeol.

“What’s this show called?” he asked her, taking a sip of the water while watching the show with her.

“Hm?” Byeol turned to him, “Oh, it’s this show about two kids who set out to find a treasure mapped out by their parents,” she explained, gesturing towards him to take a seat beside him. He obliged, opting to sit beside the girl, both their eyes glued to the screen. A few moments passed by, before the little girl turned towards him.

“You know, my sister’s favorite color is dark green. Not like emerald green, but forest green tinted with some dark blue,” Byeol said nonchalantly. Joon Hwi’s eyebrows furrowed, confused as to why the girl is telling this to him. “And, her favorite ice cream is this nutella infused one that you get down the street, closer to the town square. It’s been her favorite since she was little,” she continued, not giving his confusion any heed. The girl rapidly started telling him facts about her dear sister, all the while confusion took over his features.

“Joonhwi-oppa,” she squinted at him, pausing as her face grew serious, “You like my sister, don’t you?” He sputtered, choking and coughing out the water. “I knew it!” she excitedly squealed.

“Byeol, byeol, shh, you can’t let your sister know okay,” he brought a finger to his lips, his eyes alarmed. For an 8 year old, Byeol was surprisingly cunning and observant. She had managed to figure out what he had been struggling with for the past year after just a few short visits. They shared a look of understanding between the two, before the girl turned her attention to the show, leaving Joon Hwi walking back to Sol’s room. The Kang Sisters,  he shook his head, laughing as he thought, what a perfect duo.

bonus

It had been almost 3 hours of studying together before Kang Sol realized that the sun had set outside, and all of a sudden, they were in a rush to clean up. Joon hwi had to leave before the dorms closed entrance and because of their studying, the two of them had their head buried in books since the time they got to her house.

She was glad to have him over though. Despite her hesitation at the school and fears of inconveniencing him, having Joon hwi made the process a lot smoother. With his careful and gentle help, she had a much easier time understanding the concepts and she was eternally grateful, considering Professor Yang’s exams were always some of the toughest.

They were rushing out of the house, his backpack in her hand as he hurriedly put on his shoes and stepped outside the house. But before Joon hwi could turn with a hurried goodbye, she called out to him, her breath suddenly lodged in her throat.

“Thank you,” she quietly told him, the prospect of looking into his eyes as he leaned over her doorstep daunting. “Thank you for helping me, Joon hwi, it was really kind of you,” she beamed at him, trying to convey her gratitude and more in the only way she knew possible.

They both paused, looking at each other as the air got thicker between them, as if a string was drawing him closer to her. She watched as he swallowed slightly, his adam’s apple moving slightly before he let out a soft “You’re welcome,” and a classic smile, before he rushed out, trying to catch his bus.

She sighed, watching him as he rushed off, capturing the bus. Soon, she thought, Soon, I’ll tell him how I feel. She reassured herself, turning around only to find Byeol hiding behind a pillar.

“Byeol? What are you doing, weren’t you watching a show?” she questioned her sister, but Byeol made no response. Suddenly her sister frowned at her, muttering something about how can she possibly be a lawyer and she’s so blind, leaving her in utter confusion at the front steps.

[joheun-saram]

promise - 1 (knj)

Chapter 1: New Year’s Eve

masterlist | next

Summary- It’s NYE and you can’t wait to bring in 2017 surrounded by your friends, but there’s a new cute boy around. You’re intrigued but quickly find out there is it’s no good being cute when he’s literally the most infuriating person you’ve met.

word count- 3.1k

pairing- asshole!Namjoon x Reader (alternatively, edgelord!Namjoon)

rating- PG15

genre- collegeau, roommatesau, enemies2lovers, slow burn, this chapter is platonic fluff(and angst I guess), future angst, fluff and smut

warnings- alcohol consumption, marijuana consumption, Namjoon being an absolute ass, he’s against socialism for a hot second (to rile her up, our Joonie is still woke tho nw), mention of sex, Jungkook’s parents based on my actual best friend’s parents (shoutout to their amazing jello shots!)

a.n- Well, well, well... if it isn’t my simp ass writing another Namjoon series. Love that about me. Get ready for some slow burn and a lot of Namjoon just being annoying! 🥴This is a drabbleish series so most parts will be about 2-3k.

Thanks for the beautiful @ditttiii​ for beta reading and to @aroseforyoongi​ for helping me with the political argument (also for dubbing this Namjoon edgelord!joon 🤣)

As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌

taglist- @namyoongles​ @cheesecakes-randomshitz​ 

Send me an ask to be on the taglist!

-

You were running late. Very late.  With a sigh you watched the street pass you by in a blur, the distant roar of your bus dimmed by the rap music that blasted through your ears. You looked at the group chat to be bombarded by messages.

Jungkook: bro istg if you’re not here in the next ten minutes

Hoseok: HURRY UP! JK IS DOING SHOTS WITH HIS DAD OMFG

Jimin: OMG Y/N. WE’RE GETTING DRUNK WITHOUT YOU

Jungkook: adsdsd duddde u suk wdt syop taling foevr

Yoongi: I’m gonna drink all the whiskey I got from Korea this week if you don’t get your butt over here.

Yoongi: Jieun says hi btw!

The texts continued to devolve into nonsense as you willed the bus to move faster. You were annoyed. Jungkook had planned the new year’s party at his parent’s house, and you were beyond excited to party, having spent the entire winter break stuck at home with your parents as they argued over the smallest things. You tightened your grip around your duffle bag as the bus came to a stop. Trudging through the snow you finally reached the familiar red door of your best friend’s house.

You knocked, taking in the large three-storey suburban house as you waited to be let in, already digging through your backpack for the bottle of tequila you had brought along. If they took any more time to open the door, you were going to start drinking right there on the porch. Before you could uncap your bottle, you were greeted by Jungkook’s dad, the familiar, jolly older man moved his hair out of his eyes as he greeted you.

However, before you could finally get out of the cold, he stopped you, presenting a tray of colourful jello shots.

“Y/N! Penalty for being late. You have to take a shot!” He laughed as you sputtered, his face reddened by what you assumed was alcohol. You had known Jungkook since the two of you were freshmen in university and had routinely stayed with him and his parents during break, but you had never seen Mr. Jeon this drunk. You stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do as he insisted, your friend finally joining him and encouraging you as you tentatively took a shot.

“I changed my mind! One of every colour!” Mr Jeon exclaimed joyously as Jungkook groaned.

“Dad! It’s cold. Let her in!” He whined and thankfully, you were let in. Taking off your shoes and leaving your bag by the door, you ventured into the living room where you saw all your friends. Hoseok leaned where he sat on the couch, his face buried in his phone as he, no doubt, texted his hookup. Jimin danced next to the Christmas tree the Jeons had yet to put away with a glass of liquor as Yoongi played the piano in the corner, cuddling with his girlfriend Jieun. Bubbling warmth swelled your heart as you saw all your favourite people.

“Come on let’s get you a drink!” Jungkook put his arm around you, planting most of his weight on you due to the alcohol raging through his veins as he guided you to the kitchen through the living room. In the kitchen, you were met by the sight of his parents swaying together to Yoongi’s expert piano skills, and a man you didn’t recognize sitting at the breakfast island, talking to Jungkook’s younger sister animatedly, who seemed to be trying to leave the conversation.

Jungkook poured you a rum and coke, easy on the coke, as he made his way to the breakfast bar. You stood next to his sister, making small talk before she excused herself to go to her room. She never stuck around long during these get-togethers. 

When she left, you were left standing awkwardly next to the only stranger at this party. The first thing you noticed was that he was tall. Much taller than all your friends, his dark black hair styled away from his face, a strand falling on his forehead shaped like a comma. He was dressed much like everyone else in dark wash jeans and a navy t-shirt with white leaves outlined on the sleeves, except his jeans fit him almost too perfectly, sculpting his thick thighs. Although he seemed friendly, greeting you with a pretty dimpled smile, your sudden attraction to him made you nervous.

“Hi. I’m Namjoon,” he said, eyeing you from over his cup as he sipped whatever concoction he was drinking.

“Oh shit! I keep forgetting you guys have never met!” Jungkook slurred as he sidled up to the two of you with his stool, leaving you standing between the two sitting boys. “Namjoon and I have been friends for years. I think we probably met the same time you and I did, but I guess we never ended up meeting together?” He ended his statement as a question, and it surprised you. You thought in three years you would have met all of his friends. 

“Well, that and I took a break from school. I was doing an internship in California.” He beamed, clearly proud of his achievement. “I worked at Twitch, you know them?” He smirked, and you had to fight your urge to roll your eyes. Of course, he worked in Cali. You went to a university renowned for its engineering degree and it was the goal of every software engineering student to land an internship in California. Those lucky enough to achieve it used it as social currency and bragging rights. You despise those people. It wasn’t that you weren’t smart enough to land that opportunity, in fact, you were coming off of your internship with Facebook last term, but you always felt flaunting a job to be such an ugly trait. However, Namjoon was Jungkook’s friend and so you let it slide.

“Ah Twitch. Very cool.” you hummed as you drank.

“Yeah. What program are you in?” He asked, continuing the conversation as Jungkook disappeared to talk to his parents, trying to convince them to retire for the night since they had embarrassed him enough.

“Computer science,” you replied non-committedly, watching his face break into a wide smile.

“Oh, that’s so cool! Me too!” He replied excitedly. You had to admit, his smile was very charming and you let your guard down a little more. Maybe he just got influenced by kids in your program to brag about Cali. “I haven’t seen you in any of my classes though! Would’ve remembered you. None of the other compsci girls are this pretty.” He smirked, clearly proud of his flirtatious comment. You narrowed your eyes at him, immediately put off.

“So glad to know you deem me pretty enough to notice.” You rolled your eyes, before grabbing your bottle of tequila and a few disposable shot glasses and making your way to the living room. “Well, it was… okay to meet you. I’m gonna go do shots.”

“Wait! I’m sorry, did I offend you?” he asked, brows furrowed in confusion as he easily caught up to you, walking beside you and even sitting next to you on the floor, as you lined up the glasses to pour the drinks for everyone.

“No it’s cool, dude. We just don’t have anything in common,” you said nonchalantly as the rest of your friends crowded the table, excitedly taking a shot glass in hand as Jungkook waltzed in with a plate full of lime wedges and an intricately expensive-looking salt shaker. Namjoon didn’t say anything as everyone took their shots, but watched you throw back your drink, noticing the small smile that overtook your features as the alcohol from earlier finally started to take effect. 

After a few more shots, the party really started. Although there were only seven people, your rowdy, borderline chaotic group had you laughing. Hoseok was going on some tale about his adventures back home where he ended up at a bar with his high school friends and got the numbers of four girls by doing a disgustingly named muff-diver shot. He bragged about his game, and you burst his bubble by telling him it was really only because he was hot. Something he didn’t take much offence to as he wiggled his eyebrows at you. Namjoon, however, came to Hoseok’s defence, much to your annoyance.

“And how would you know? I doubt Hobi here has used his A+ game on you.” He raised an eyebrow in challenge, making you scoff as you rolled your eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well… you guys are friends, I doubt he would try to pick you up.” He spoke with a logical tone, as he eyed you and Hoseok.

“Oh really? Okay Hobi. Since your game is so great. Let’s see it.” You turned around, staring at your friend next to you. Namjoon leaned back against his hands on the floor, watching the scene unfold with a smirk.

“Really darling? Don’t blame me when you fall for me.” Hoseok moved closer, finishing his drink as you huffed in annoyance. You were in your first stage of drunk, the stage where you got mean for no reason

“Get on with it, loser. Your face is making me drier as we speak.” You waved as Hoseok leaned in, his nose rubbing gently against your ear, his breath on your neck, making you shiver slightly.

“Hey baby, how about you let me take you downstairs and defile you on Jungkook’s Iron Man sheets.” His voice was low, almost a growl. You never thought you would hear Hoseok’s sexy pickup voice and you were sure that if you were someone who had not seen him whine and cling onto you after a few drinks, you’d be putty in his hand. Instead, you burst out laughing, doubling over with your hands on his thighs as tears of mirth filled your eyes. Not one to give up that easily, Hoseok continued.

“See. I’m a funny guy Y/N. Let me eat that pussy!” He couldn’t hold back any longer either, his voice breaking at the word pussy as he too devolved into a fit of laughter. His comment, however, broke Yoongi and Jieun out of their bubble as they looked up from their make out session, looks of horror on their faces.

“Please tell me you did not just say that Hobi!” Jieun chided, her voice shrill.

“That’s fucking disgusting.” Yoongi shivered as he drank more of his whiskey in an attempt to calm himself. Hoseok and you continued laughing at your friends’ reaction, the rest of the group joining in, except Namjoon who seemed to be watching the two of you with raised brows.

“Wait. I don’t get it. That should’ve worked.”

“Yeah dude. Y/N what the fuck? Let me eat that pussy!” Hoseok grabbed you by the shoulders, shaking you while screaming at your face, between giggles.

“Oh my god. I’m gonna get a stomach ache. Stop!” you wheezed, before turning to Namjoon. “Sorry dude. I’ve literally helped Hobi pee once. There’s no going back to sexy when you see him whine about forgetting how urinating works.”

“Yeah and no offence babe, but you literally had your hands on my dick and it was flaccid as hell.”

“You guys are weirdly close,” Namjoon commented, his face scrunched as he assessed you and Hoseok.

“You think they’re close, you should see her and Jungkook. They even slept together!” Jimin remarks finally sitting down after dancing by himself for the past twenty minutes.

“And it was fucking horrible. High five!” Jungkook leans over the coffee table to slap his hand against yours, the two of you giggling.

“What kind of incestuous group is this?” Namjoon remarked, sipping his drink before turning to you where he watched you leaned over the table as you still slapped your hand against Jungkook’s to the beat of the music. “So when’s my turn?”

“Excuse me?” You recoil away from Namjoon, almost jumping in Hoseok’s lap. Oh here it was; stage two of your drunk persona, anger. You felt it coursing in your veins at his insinuation. “Who the fuck do you think I am?”

“Apparently the group dick toucher.” He smirked again, that annoying lopsided smile that made his one dimple deepen in his cheek. “I promise I won’t be flaccid like Hobi was.”

“Okay! Y/N and I are going on a walk!” Hoseok exclaimed as he saw your fist clenched. He knew you were ten seconds away from punching Namjoon in the face, and he put his arms around your waist and easily hoisted you up, walking you to the front door.

“Hobi I swear to god, I’m gonna murder him.” You glared at Namjoon as he returned your heated stare with an easy smile and a wave.

“I know babe. So we’re going on a walk. Let’s go pick up some food, yeah?”

The two of you walked around the block to the nearest McDonalds, picking up an assortment of cheeseburgers and chicken nuggets for the party, even getting Namjoon what he wanted, despite your burning desire that he starve to death. By the time, you returned to the party and took a couple more shots you were sufficiently cheered up. Hoseok had that affect on you, calming your mood with his jokes and anecdotes. 

Cuddled with Hoseok as you sat between his legs on the couch, the two of you shared a vape as you let the weed settle in your bones with a mellow buzz. Jimin sat in front of you on the floor, leaning against you as you ran your hands through his hair, enjoying the soft fluff. You were so glad that he had decided to forego his usual hair wax today. You felt like you were in utter bliss, your annoyance with Namjoon long forgotten. That is until you tuned into his conversation with Jungkook - not that you had any choice, because even though he seemed to be talking to Jungkook, his eyes were pointed at you.

“I’m just saying capitalism is the reason you’re sitting here in this nice home. People who can’t afford healthcare or education just need to work harder. That’s how life works.” Namjoon sipped his drink, raising an eyebrow at you, and you decidedly ignored his baiting. It was like he was trying to get you mad on purpose. You didn’t understand his gameplan. Why couldn’t he just let you enjoy bringing in 2017 like an adult?

“Dude… why are we even talking about this?” Jungkook groaned, face scrunching in distaste.

“I’m just saying people shouldn’t look for a handout when there are literally thousands of skills they could learn to make their lives easier. Why are we using our tax dollars for the lazy?” Namjoon shrugged nonchalantly, his gaze boring holes into you as you stared him down. Oh curse your stupid resolve, why did this fucker know you so well, you literally just met! Before you could stop yourself, you were speaking.

“I’m sorry, are you stupid? That is literally the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Education and healthcare are a human right!” Your voice was louder than usual, startling Hoseok and Jimin as you suddenly stood up, walking over to where a smug looking Namjoon and a confused Jungkook sat on the floor.

“I’m not, but you must be, to not realize that we could invest in teaching people skills to make money instead of just giving them money. Don’t tell me you’re a communist.” He sipped his drink, his eyes dancing with mirth, relishing the fact that he had gotten you to argue. And argue you did, for over an hour, the room forgotten as the two of you discussed social policies and taxation laws, ignoring Jungkook’s protests (“We live in a social democracy!”). You could feel the fire in your veins as you raised your voice, while he calmly discussed the matter at hand. Even though Namjoon was the most infuriating person you had ever met, the fact that he kept up with your arguments was extremely satisfying. Your friends knew you were the kind of person to debate a point until all the sides were uncovered so they would never start an argument with you, and as much as you hated Namjoon, you loved that he was such a great sparring partner.

“Oh my god! Shut the fuck up!” Jimin yelled suddenly, breaking you and Namjoon out of your bubble, as you looked at your usually bubbly friend, staring daggers at you. You sheepishly apologized, just as the countdown began.

Everyone stood and you followed suit. However the alcohol in your body decided to catch up as you stumbled, instinctively grabbing on to Namjoon’s arm to not fall over. As you’ve started to realize is his ammo, he one-upped you, putting his arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest. Fuck, why does it feel so nice and firm?

The countdown got closer to one and you felt trapped by his gaze, an intense look in his eye as he smirked at you. His eyes travelled from your eyes to your lips and you felt as if your chest was getting tighter.

“Three!” your friends yelled, but your mouth felt too dry to speak up. You licked your lips and Namjoon’s smirk widened. Why did you find his arrogant face so attractive all of a sudden? You wanted to punch him not two seconds ago!

“Two!” He started to lean in and despite yourself, you started anticipating his lips on yours. 

“One!” Suddenly, your earlier resolve kicked in. No dude who insulted you all night was going to touch you. You pushed him off turning around to Jungkook.

“Happy New Year!” You pulled your best friend towards you by his collar, giving him a loud peck on the lips as everyone cheered. Jungkook smiled, pulling you into a hug and jostling you around, giving you a chance to catch the dumbfounded look on Namjoon’s face.

You hugged all of your friends in turn, and when Namjoon, still with his mouth slightly ajar, looked at you expectantly, you raised your hand to him with a smug smile. You kind of felt bad for the way he deflated before he shook your hand, but before you could dwell too much on that feeling, he tugged you closer.

“Well played,” he whispered in your ear, his breath ghosting your neck, and you felt heat rising up your neck. You pulled away with a scowl and before he could say anything else, your phone pinged, the screen lit with the last name you wanted to see.

Taehyung (3 messages)

Oh great. What did the fuck did he want?

-

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[hyucks-archive]

september 19.

word count: 7,342

genre: fluff

member(s): the one and only lee donghyuck

warning(s): it’s a sort of feel good fic, so unrealism™

author’s note: @haeloce has spoken - ask & you shall be given! this post is dedicated to you my love, thank you for always supporting my works

September 19, 2017.

You look up at the azure sky, the gentle autumn breeze causing your baby hairs to tickle at your face. You close your eyes, breathing in the fresh scent of what you imagine to be of wilting leaves and fresh pumpkins. You shove your hands into the pockets of your block-coloured cardigan; while most prefer to stick to the monochromatic nude colour scheme in the autumn, you like to do the exact opposite. Summer is your season for monochromes, while autumn is your season for colour. There’s just something about contrasting the seasons that you’ve always loved to do.

Pulling out the ticket from your jean pocket, you hold it up against the backdrop – you smile, tilting your head to the side, eyes going back and forth between the photograph printed on the ticket, and the actual, three-dimensional scene in front of you.

“Looks even better than in the picture,” you murmur to yourself, shoulders dropping in satisfaction. You bring your hand down, allowing yourself to really take in the entirety of the one place you’ve hoped to visit for more than half of your life – the Nami Island. It first became popular because it was the filming site for Winter Sonata, but that’s not the reason you’ve always wanted to come. It’s the actual view that you’ve always been drawn to; the tree-lined roads, and the maple and gingko trees that would turn golden red and bright yellow in the fall. Autumn has always been your favourite season, but you’ve never really been able to really drown yourself in the things that are said to define autumn as a season.

You’ve always wanted to visit. But you’ve always only wanted to visit on a September 19th.

Why?

Because you first discovered the existence of Nami Island back in 2008, on September 19. You’re usually not one to care for such things, but when you have close to nothing to really look forward to in life, visiting Nami Island on a future September 19 became the only thing you looked forward to. Yet, it took you a good nine years to get here, because every September 19, you were never able to take an off day from your job at the café.

This year, however, you finally managed to. Granted, you only managed to, because you decided to stop being a beta, and start being an alpha. In other words, you submitted your application for an off day back in January, at the start of the year. It’s only because autumn is the busiest season for the café though. Autumn is the time where everyone rushes in for the pumpkin-flavoured drinks and treats. Autumn is also somehow the season that’s the most associated with coffee.

Placing the ticket in your wallet, you slide your wallet back into your bag, finally ready to begin your exploration of the beautiful island.

As you walk, you’re warmed by the site of numerous families and lovers, who scramble about, trying to get the most scenic shots of the island. There are two toddlers who are fascinated by the squirrel that dashed across the pathway, and another three toddlers who are busy picking at the fallen, dead leaves, while their parents attempt to buy steamed buns as a treat. Further in, there’s a waft of coffee, a scent that is all too familiar to you. You look towards the somewhat populated, hanok-looking café.

The atmosphere is so different from the café you work at. Here, it’s tranquil, there’s beautiful scenery to motivate you, and there’s zero signs of the hustle and bustle of city life (which is something you seriously detest). There aren’t business people who rush in for an americano before zooming out of the door, and there aren’t students who hog the seats to mug for their exams (although, you’ve been guilty of that at some point in your life). It’s just people who are here to really take in the flavour of the coffee, and to appreciate everything about the island.

You decide to buy a cup of tea to-go, just to support the business.

With the warm beverage in hand, you continue to venture further into the island, eventually arriving at a water body at the end of the trail. You look around, scanning the area. It’s even more peaceful here than it was back at the heart of the island; there’s barely anyone here.

You spot a boulder under the tree, so you decide that it’s a sign for you to take a seat, to enjoy your off day, sipping on your cup of tea, while listening to the soft, gentle sounds from the water. You really like this. For more than half of your life, you’ve spent it being overwhelmed by crowds, working ‘till your arms and legs go sore, trying to “get ahead” of everyone else. You’ve always quite liked the feeling of sinking in work, especially labour work, because it takes your mind off of every other thing that went on in your life.

Now that you’re older, and your body isn’t as lively and healthy as it used to be, you’re beginning to learn the importance of taking breaks. Sadly, it’s a little too late. The reputation that you’ve established in the café that you’ve been working at all along, is one of the ‘perfect-worker-who-never-ever-takes-a-day-off-even-when-sick”. You have this whole thing about not disappointing people that’s going on as well.

Sometimes you really hate yourself for it. You scoff – who are you kidding? You always hate yourself for it.

Even the thought of it makes your nose sting and your lips quiver. You blink fast; it’s a technique you’ve come to master, and it works absolutely amazingly when you’re trying to hold back your tears. Not everybody can do this, so you consider it a pretty big talent.

You hear the sound of dead leaves cracking, so you turn your head to the side, where the sound had come from, only to be greeted by a gigantic brown bear, that’s holding a tray of tiny cups, that you assume to be samples from whatever store this bear’s a mascot of. You notice the sunflower that’s pinned to the bear’s chest, reading the text out loud, “Smile! It’s a beary sunny day!”

You break out into a smile, murmuring, “Not the first time I’ve heard that one.”

The bear holds out a tiny cup, allowing you to take a peek at the brown liquid that fills it. “Is this coffee?” you ask, looking up at the face of the bear. It shakes its head, pulling out a card that he had hidden beneath the tray. He passes it to you.

“Try our brand new bear liquid! Contains everything bear-friendly.” You raise a brow, looking back up at the bear, “You know that doesn’t sound very appetising, right? No one’s going to want to drink,” you hold up both hands, gesturing inverted commas as you say, “bear liquid.”

There’s a hint of a shrug from the bear, before it reaches behind itself, bringing out a mini sunflower badge. It holds the sunflower badge out in front of you, gesturing for you to take it. “You guys give sunflower badges for free?” you ask, bringing the badge up close to inspect it. “That’s kind of a good marketing idea, actually,” you say, spotting the name of the café printed at the bottom of the badge. “But it doesn’t seem very cost-efficient,” you continue, poking the needle of the pin through your cardigan, hooking it back in, securing the pin on your left chest.

“Thank you,” you say, patting the bear on its shoulder, “You’re doing a beary good job.”

The bear holds out a thumbs up, turning around to take its leave.

You watch the retreating figure of the bear, wondering how tiring it must be for the person that’s inside the gigantic bear suit. Luckily, it’s autumn, which means cool weather, but it also makes you think about how tiring it must be for the bear in the summer. Getting up onto your two feet, you smile to yourself, “Well, I have nothing to do,” you whisper, allowing the curiosity to take over you as you leap forward, taking hurried footsteps until you spot the bear a short distance ahead of you. “I guess you’ll be my entertainment for the day,” you conclude, grinning widely.

You continue to follow behind the bear, taking cover behind trees whenever it gets stopped by a bunch of kids and their parents who wants a photo with it. It continues to give out the bear liquid, but you also notice that even though it has interacted with more than 50 different people, it hasn’t given out another sunflower badge. You wonder if it’s because it isn’t allowed to give out too many of those, which, obviously, would make sense. Then again, what makes you legible for the sunflower badge, and not the rest?

The thought swims around in your head as you continue to trail behind the brown mascot, the tiny cups of bear liquid slowly reducing in quantity.

You stare at the teddy bear sunflowers that decorate the exterior of the café. “Oh, that makes sense,” you think aloud, finally understanding why the mascot of the café is a big brown bear, along with the sunflower. You take a seat on a wooden bench, crossing a leg over the other, sipping on the tea that’s now cold.

Finally, the bear finishes giving out the samples of bear liquid. You watch as it poses with different children who are so amazed by the big, live-sized, animate bear. You take another big gulp of tea; it must be tiring, not only does it have to wear that heavy, stuffy bear suit, it also has to continuously entertain the tourists that come by every day. Because you’re so engrossed in your own thoughts, you fail to notice that the bear has spotted you. It wonders why you’re here.

“Oh, gosh,” you gasp, body tensing up for a split second. The bear is now suddenly in front of you.

“Hello,” you greet, smiling. The bear bows its head. There’s a pause, then you decide to break the silence with, “Do you talk?”

The bear gestures at its wrist, before folding an arm, resting its chin in its paw, tilting its head to the side questioningly. “You want to know the time?” you gather from its gestures. It nods its head, so you check your watch. “It’s seven thirty-two PM,” you inform. The bear claps its paws excitedly, and you react with a confused smile.

“I can talk now,” he speaks, sitting himself down beside you. “Don’t you have to work?” you ask.

“It’s two minutes past my shift,” he replies.

“Cool,” you say. You lick your lips, pursing them, then deciding that you should ask the question that would get you the answer you’ve been wanting to know. “Hey, can I ask you something?” you start. The bear turns to look at you, “You followed me all the way here just to ask me something?”

“Well, kind of,” you say, “Technically, I derived the question after following you.”

“So you admit you were following me?”

“I didn’t deny it to begin with,” you state nonchalantly. You can hear the bear smirk under his bear head. “You’re honest, I like that,” he says.

“Thanks,” you reply.

“Go ahead,” he cues.

“Why’d you give me a sunflower badge, but not anyone else? I thought this was part of your café’s marketing.” You point at the sunflower that’s still pinned to your cardigan. You hear the bear chuckle under its mask, its body folding forwards as he does so, a sign of amusement. “I gave it to you because I thought you might need it,” he explains, almost matter-of-factly.

You’re slightly stunned by his reply. You think back to the situation earlier – you were busy dwelling in the thoughts that make you feel sad, that by the end of it, you were blinking away tears. Just how much of that did the bear see? You’re uncomfortable just by the thought of it; it doesn’t feel right at all knowing that someone might’ve caught a glimpse of your weakness. You don’t want that. You don’t think you can live knowing that someone potentially saw you struggling.

“But don’t worry,” he begins, as though reading your mind, “I’ve already forgotten everything.”

“That doesn’t really reassure me,” you say, eyeline falling to the ground. The bear leans his body forward, mirroring your position. “It’s human,” he says. Your eyes travel up to look at his bear face. “I get really frustrated sometimes, too. But I don’t go all the way to an offshore island to release the stress,” he pokes, eliciting a small smile from you.

“I didn’t come here specifically to destress,” you share, “I came because I’ve been meaning to come for nine years already. I just only found the chance to now,” you finish.

The bear looks at you through its mesh eyes. When he first spotted you back by the water body, he saw the way your brows knitted, the way your lips quivered, and the way you were quick to blink away your tears. He felt bad for imposing on a moment that seemed so private, but he would feel twice as bad if he had just walked away, pretending like he didn’t see what happened. So he decided to build up the courage to go up to you – it worked out really well that he’s in the bear suit. In fact, it’s working out even better now, because he can stare at you, and you wouldn’t even know. He can sit beside you, talk to you like it’s nothing to him, because all you see, is a big, brown bear.

Still, he can’t deny the slight fluttering in his heart. It’s cliché, and it’s definitely not right. But he can’t deny, that he’s attracted to you. It’s superficial, he knows. But he’s also only going to be able to see you today, and today only. After which, you’d return to the mainland, while he’d remain here, continuing his job as a mascot of the café.

He likes the way you’re smiling fondly, just at the thought of being able to finally visit the island you’ve been longing to visit.

“Do you like the island?” he asks, mentally slapping himself for not being able to come up with a better question.

“Of course,” you say, beaming. “It’s everything I imagined. And,” you pause, “I got to meet a really friendly bear, too.”

His heart does another thing at your declaration. It’s foolish, he’s well aware. But again, tonight’s his only chance to experience this. Then, you’d be gone, and he’d be back to his regular daily routine.

“Do you live on Nami island?” you ask.

“I don’t. I take the first ferry here every morning, and the last ferry back every night. The pay is good, so I don’t mind the tedious travelling,” he shares. “Wouldn’t you rather just live on this island?” you question. “Do you know how expensive that is?” he replies.

You shrug, “Wouldn’t your total expenses spent on travelling equate to renting a place here?”

“I travel for free,” he says, “The boss pays for that. I bring in customers by wagging my bear butt, so it’s a fair exchange.”

You laugh, amused by the way the bear phrases its words.

“Must be nice,” you say.

“What about you? You look like a student, so I’m assuming you work part-time?”

The bear notes the smile you force out. He can see the slight bitterness peeking from your eyes. He mentally slaps himself a second time – he must’ve said something wrong.

“I’m actually taking a gap year right now,” you share, “So I’m working full time, to save up for school.”

He understands now. It’s odd, to say the least. He feels a form of connection with you, even though he knows this’ll never come to fruition. Still, even if it’s just for tonight, he’d like to be able to just talk about what he’s been bottling up for the last few years with someone. Even better, that this someone is someone he mildly feels attracted to, and whom will go back to being a stranger after the conversation.

“Somehow, you’ll feel that whatever you make, it’s never enough,” he begins, turning his bear face away. You wait for him to continue.

“No matter how much I earn, it’s not enough. I was once naïve enough to think that I’d be able to eventually fund myself to do the things I want to do, but as I’m ageing, I’m starting to understand that that’s not possible. It’s all fiction. Fantasy. It’s all what I conjure up in my head.”

Your shoulders sink upon hearing what he has to say. Why does it seem to hit the exact points? Why do you seem to be able to relate to his plight? In other words, there are other people out there, dealing with the exact same things as you?

“Don’t say that,” you manage out, trying to think as positively as possible for the both of you. “Money doesn’t buy happiness.”

The bear turns to face you, tone serious as he says, “Yeah, money doesn’t buy happiness. But money buys you the things that make you happy.”

You feel a sting in your heart. You’ve always tried to psycho yourself into believing that what you’re going through isn’t so bad. That you’d still be able to be happy, because money doesn’t buy anyone happiness. Because of that, you’d always feel guilty for not being able to find contentment in your situation. You thought it just meant you’re greedy.

You realise now, it doesn’t.

You try your best to paint on a smile. But the bear knows well enough that it’s all pretence. He wishes you didn’t have to try so hard to be okay. At least, not in front of him.

“Who knows where we’d be a year from now? We might even be doing the things we like,” you say, feigning a tone of excitement.

“We wouldn’t know where each other is a year from now,” the bear says.

“Will you still be working here, a year from now?” you ask.

“I’ve been here for six years now.”

“It must’ve been cute, to be able to see a bear mascot getting taller every year,” you comment, lightening the mood. You can hear the bear smile, which makes you smile in return. The bear’s heart does another flip.

“Anyway,” you say, “How about I see you, a year from now, right here?”

The bear’s breath stops for a moment – are you for real?

“Really?” he asks. You nod your head. “Really.”

“Okay,” he agrees, though you can’t see the goofy grin on his face.

“What’s your name?” you ask, only realising now that you’ve basically revealed just about everything about yourself to him, excluding your name, yet you don’t even know what he looks like under that bear mask.

“Donghyuck. Lee Donghyuck.”

“Donghyuck,” you repeat after him, smiling, “Nice name,” you say, telling him your name in exchange. “So Donghyuck,” you say, getting up from the bench. “A year from now, I hope I can walk away with my memory of you, not being a bear.”

Donghyuck chuckles, agreeing.

“See you in a year, y/n.”

September 19, 2018.

You hold the bag of carp bread to your chest, your heart filled with excitement. You’ve practically anticipated for the entire of 2018, for the 19th of September to come. It’s interesting how just one conversation, of course, filled with mutual understanding and relatability, had created such a connection between you and Donghyuck.

There hasn’t been a day where you didn’t find yourself thinking about Donghyuck. You’d wonder if he had earned enough to do something he likes. You’d wonder if he’s staying adequately hydrated despite the scorching sun. You’d even wonder, if he still remembers his promise with you. A part of you is obviously afraid that after making a trip down to Nami island, that the boy in the bear suit would’ve completely forgotten about you. A part of you is afraid that when you greet him with a smile, he’d look at you with confused eyes, questioning how you know of him.

Then again, an even bigger part of you is simply hopping around in absolute joy at the mere thought of being able to reunite with a friend. You’ve never been able to meet anyone that could relate to you, the way Donghyuck can.

Upon arrival on the island, you rush off the ferry, immediately heading towards the café he works at. It’s close to 5PM in the evening. You were held up at work, because your boss had insisted that you at least take the morning shift, which made you jittery the whole day because you weren’t sure if you’d be able to make it. Luckily, it wasn’t that busy today, so you were even let off ten minutes prior to the end of your shift.

Just as the café comes into view, you spot the giant bear hobbling about, playing around with the group of kids. You immediately break out into a bright smile, a sense of relief washing over you. At the very least, he’s still here, like he said he’d be.

You bring up the bag of carp bread – will Donghyuck like this?

Donghyuck smiles at the adorable children who are rushing to cuddle him. He isn’t sure of the exact time, but he can tell that more than half of the day has gone by, and there is still no sign of you. He’s beginning to think that maybe he shouldn’t have been so naïve in the first place, gullible enough to think that a random stranger would actually come all the way back to the island just to meet with him again.

Heck, he’s in a bear suit. Nobody’s ever going to like a person that’s in a bear suit.

“Look here,” a mother coos, holding up her camera. Donghyuck bends down beside the child, holding him close as the mother begins to snap numerous shots of her baby son. “Thank you,” the mother says, reaching for her child as she presses a loving kiss to his forehead, gushing as she whispers praises to her little boy. Donghyuck has a pursed smile on his face; must be nice for that kid.

Donghyuck isn’t given the chance to dwell on the topic because a rush of kids come by, screaming and yelling excitedly at the sight of the bear. He joins in, chasing the kids around, and that is when he spots the one person he’s been waiting for (a whole year).

You’re standing there, a bag in hand. He isn’t even able to control the smile that spreads across his face.

“Hey!” a child shouts, tugging at Donghyuck’s bear leg.

You bring the bag of carp bread back to your side, smiling widely as you make your way towards the bear. As though working in your favour, the kids begin to clear just as you approach your friend. You give a small wave, your heartbeat picking pace in fear that he might not remember you. Just as quickly, though, your heartbeat slows when he returns the wave. He points at the wooden bench that you were seated on a year ago, and you get what he’s trying to say immediately.

You head over to the bench first, taking a seat as Donghyuck poses for a few more pictures with different children.

Once he’s done, he jogs over, stopping a small distance in front of you.

“Look what I brought!” you say excitedly, waving the bag in the air. “It’s carp bread, because bears eat fish,” you giggle. You thought you were really witty to have thought of such an idea.

Donghyuck chuckles. Now it’s his turn to feel nervous, because he’s going to have to remove his bear suit to reveal himself, like he promised.

“Are you going to change out of that?” you ask, looking on with anticipation.

“I’ll be right back,” he says.

You wait patiently for the boy to return. He does, within five minutes. He tries to soothe his hair down as he approaches you, moistening his lips with his saliva, tugging at the end of his hoodie to make sure he looks decently presentable.

You look up, meeting eyes with a tanned skin, lean-looking boy, who is making his way towards you. You raise both brows – is that Donghyuck?

Sure enough, the boy stops just in front of you, scratching the back of his head in an attempt to let out his nerves. He smiles shyly, formally introducing, “Hi. I’m the boy in the bear suit.”

Your encouraging smile calms Donghyuck’s active nerves. He looks at you in the eyes, the same feeling of attraction he had felt a year ago, still evidently present a year later. He wonders if you feel it too.

“You know, you kind of look like a bear,” you comment, eyeing Donghyuck up and down. He rolls his eyes in response, scrunching his nose, “I don’t.”

“Here,” you say, holding out the bag of carp bread. “Eat your fish.”

Donghyuck scoffs, feigning offence, before taking the bag from you, and taking a seat on the bench, gesturing for you to sit beside him. He brings out a carp bread, splitting it down the middle. He hands you a half, and you take it graciously, biting a chunk off. “So how has your year been?” you start off, still in a little bit of disbelief that this is how Lee Donghyuck looks like.

For a whole year, the only image you’ve had of him, was the brown bear suit, with the sunflower badge. Even when you tried to imagine what he looks like under the mask; you’ve never came to the visual image of the being before you. He’s good looking, obviously, and by that, you mean that he’s way better looking than you had imagined him to be. There’s something that’s just really cute about his small little button nose, his doe eyes, and his round face.

“What you said was true,” he says, swallowing. “2017-me would’ve never been able to guess where I’d be a year later,” he continues, “I’m learning how to dance.”

You smile in pleasure, “I’m so happy to hear that.”

Donghyuck returns the smile. “What did you do for the past year?”

“I saved,” you say, smiling proudly. “I saved enough for now, so if I keep the momentum going, I’d have enough for university, too.”

“Then I guess it’s mandatory for me to tell you that you’re doing a great job,” he commends.

You feel something stirring in your heart. You’ve never been told that before. It feels funny, now that you’ve heard it. Donghyuck notices the change in your expression, and somehow, he knows the reason why.

“You can always come to me to brag and show off,” he says, tone gentle and encouraging. “I’ll always tell you how you’re doing a good job.”

You look at Donghyuck, meeting his eyes. He’s sending you signals of comfort through his gaze, and you’re receiving them well. Somehow, it’s only the second time you’re having a conversation with him, and it’s the first where you’re looking at the actual him. Yet, it feels as though he’s impacted your life even more than the people who’ve been in it for way more than he has.

“Want to know a secret?” you ask. Donghyuck nods his head.

“Back when I was younger, I was walking beside a classmate in school. We were about to go down the stairs, but she tripped on her own shoelace. She rolled down the stairs, and laid unconscious,” you recall, letting out a deep sigh at the end. Donghyuck looks at you with a brow raised, “And?” he prompts, urging you to continue.

“You’d think my first reaction would be pure concern for that classmate,” you say, focusing on the dead leaves that decorate the ground. You kick at a maple leaf, “But it wasn’t. When I saw the way everyone rushed forward, all attention on her, I thought to myself, ‘why wasn’t I the one who rolled down the stairs?’,” you take a pause, turning to read Donghyuck’s expression. He doesn’t seem to have any real thoughts about what you said.

“Twisted, right?” you end off with a pursed smile.

“No,” he states, taking another bite of his carp bread, completely unfazed.

“No?” you repeat.

“No,” he reiterates.

“Why not?” you question.

“Because,” he says, “It’s not abnormal to think that way.”

“You don’t have to side with me just because we are friends, you know?”

“I’m not. I just think that it isn’t crazy weird why you thought that way.” He says, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s kind of like how it is in my dance class. There’s this guy, his name is Jisung. He’s younger by two years, but his talent is more than double of mine. He gets a lot of love and attention for being the youngest of the team, and for being the talent that he is. Sometimes, when I see the way he gets praised for executing a move really well, I’d think to myself, ‘why wasn’t I the one being praised? I thought I did the move pretty well’.”

You chuckle at his kind attempt to try to make it seem as though what you had thought at the time was normal, though the circumstances are obviously far from being similar. Donghyuck is sweet, to say the least.

“I’m sure you dance well,” you say, eyeing his long legs, “You look like you’d dance well,” you correct.

“I’m serious about what I said though,” he says, reverting the topic, referring to how he’d be willing to listen to you brag any time.

“I might just take you up on the offer,” you reply, “As long as it remains valid, for a long, long time.”

“Are you trying to tell me to stay in contact with you?” he questions.

“You mean you didn’t intend to?” you raise a brow.

“You’d know where to find me when you need me, but I can’t say the same for myself for when I want to see you,” Donghyuck says, looking at you expectantly. Can you take that as a confession? Did he just say that he wants to see you?

Then again, so what if it is a confession?

You’re well aware of how you feel about the boy. You know that there’s a connection. You know that sparks are flying. You know. You know it all too well. But how can you be sure that Donghyuck is meant to be something more? You met him under circumstances that most wouldn’t even consider normal, and it’s barely the second time you’re talking to him. How can you be so sure, that he’s supposed to mean something more to you? How can you be sure that you’re only feeling this way, that you’re only feeling the butterflies and the somersaults inside you, because you’re truly attracted to him, and not because of how he makes you feel?

He makes you feel understood. That’s unfamiliar to you.

“Please,” you begin, in an attempt to try to brush off what he had said. “I kind of like that we see each other once a year.”

Donghyuck feels a light sting in his heart. “Why?” he asks.

“It makes our friendship special. How many people can say that they know of someone, who becomes their friend, on only one day out of the entire year?”

Donghyuck fakes a smile, “So you’ll be back in a year?”

“Yes.”

Donghyuck nods his head. Maybe he should just be happy that this means he’ll get to see you, at least another time, a year from now.

He shouldn’t be too greedy, right?

September 19, 2019.

It’s the third time that you’re going to be meeting Donghyuck. You’re starting to kind of understand what people mean by ‘distance makes the heart grow fonder’. Oddly enough, in the past year, Donghyuck wasn’t just a passing thought like he was in 2018. This year, he was quite a prominent thought. Sometimes, you’d even have sleepless nights, spent tossing and turning, just thinking about him. You’ve even gotten the urge to just go online to search for him, but there are so many Lee Donghyucks in the world, that you weren’t sure if you’d be able to find the exact one. It would also be a breach of your friendship terms, since the both of you are supposed to only rekindle every September 19th.

Today, you managed to take the full day off. You check your watch – it’s 10:47AM. Why have you arrived at Nami island at such an early hour? Knowing fully well that Donghyuck has a shift to fulfil?

Simple.

You miss him. A lot more than you’d like to admit.

Sounds silly, you’re obviously aware. How can you develop feelings for someone that you only see once a year, and that you barely know?

You’d like to think it’s just because of how curious you are as a person, which results in constantly being curious about Donghyuck. But again, that’s just you trying to talk yourself into denial. No matter what you say, you can’t deny that you’ve debated over fifty times about coming to Nami island before the 19th of September, knowing fully well, that he’d be here.

But every time you were about to purchase the ferry ticket, you’d stop yourself.

A year may have gone by, but the same worry still remains.

How can you be sure, that his presence in your life, is meant to be something more?

“Hey!”

Your attention snaps up to the familiar voice, the voice you’ve only been able to think of for the past year.

“Donghyuck?” you murmur. He isn’t in his bear suit today.

He dons a bright smile, jogging over towards you. “We must have more telepathy than we’re aware of,” he comments, chuckling to himself. You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips as you ask, “You’re not working today?”

“I took the day off,” he says. “I didn’t think you’d actually come this early, though.”

“And what if I didn’t?”

“I would’ve sat at that wooden bench until you showed up.”

His non-hesitance as he said that elicits a feeling of warmth to spread through your entire body. Donghyuck really makes you feel things, huh?

“You’d do that?” you ask, just so you can hear it loud and clear. Donghyuck smiles, nodding his head. “You would’ve done the same. Otherwise, what did you intend to do while waiting for me to end my shift if I were working today?”

Your smile only widens.

“What do you have planned for the day?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he replies.

“Shall we find somewhere to sit and eat then?” you suggest.

So five hours later, you’re seated opposite Donghyuck, empty plates and half-empty cups between the both of you. He has his arms propped on the table, listening intently to whatever you had to say. Conversation is easy when it comes to Donghyuck. He shows you that he’s listening. He makes sure to pay attention to what you say.

You feel the connection growing by the minute.

“That doesn’t justify why you’ve never dated anyone before,” he says, shaking his head disapprovingly as he takes a sip of his drink.

“Says you,” you retort, “But I’m sure if I showed my co-worker a picture of you, she’d go crazy.”

Donghyuck chuckles, “You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not!” you defend, trying to put on the most serious expression you can possibly make. “She’s cute too. Come to think of it, she’s totally your type.”

Donghyuck furrows his brows. “What makes you think I’m into cute?”

You smile, rolling your eyes. “Okay, then what is your type?”

“Shouldn’t you know best?”

Silence.

Donghyuck’s just staring into your eyes.

Your heart is thumping so hard, so fast, you’re starting to lose feeling in your hands and legs.

You let out an awkward laugh – there’s no denying it this time. It’s definitely a confession.

“Very funny,” you say, trying to change the topic. “I have to leave already, I’m working a full-day shift tomorrow and I’m in charge of opening,” you say, getting up from your seat. Donghyuck follows after, allowing you to lead the way out of the eatery.

“Hey,” Donghyuck calls, taking your wrist in his warm hold, turning you around to face him. “Don’t you think it’s about time to tell me where you work? Or where I can locate you? Or your number, at the very least?”

You’re looking into Donghyuck’s eyes, and you can see the sincerity. Like him, you want this to be something more. But you can’t just turn a blind eye and rid the fact that you’re just not sure of what might happen in the future, and that’s what scares you. You don’t want to commit to something, at the expense of knowing all too well, that you might get hurt. What if Donghyuck was never meant to be a part of your life? You’ve seen it in the movies – when you let someone in, and they weren’t supposed to be in to begin with, it only ends in tears and sorrow.

“Look, Donghyuck,” you begin, trying your best to think of a way to get your point across accurately.

“What makes you so sure that we’re meant to be something more?” you ask.

Donghyuck’s brow twitches, a sign that he’s taken aback by your question.

“See? You don’t know it yourself. What if we commit, and it just bites us in the back?”

Donghyuck runs a hand through his hair, “How would you know that?” he counters, “What if it doesn’t?”

The both of you just stand there, looking into each other’s eyes, trying to find the answer you’re both looking for.

“I believe in fate,” you say, breaking the eye contact. “On September 19, a year from now, I’ll be working at the café,” you continue, eyes finding its way to meet Donghyuck’s once more. “It’s located in Seoul. If, on that day, on the 19th of September, 2020, you’re able to somehow find me, I’ll take it as the sign that you and I are meant to be something more.”

Donghyuck furrows his brows at your proposition, “But Seoul is so big, how am I supposed to-”

“If you can’t find me, it just means that’s the end of our connection,” you cut in. “And you can’t cheat. You can only start looking on September 19.”

Donghyuck thinks it’s the end. He doesn’t think it’s possible. But if he wants this enough, he’s going to have to try.

“Promise?” you ask, putting out your pinkie finger.

“I promise,” he says, hooking his finger with yours, pressing your thumbs together.

What’s going to happen a year from now?

September 19, 2020.

“Here you go, enjoy your drink,” you greet, passing the iced americano to the man in the suit. He tilts his head in gratitude, before scurrying out the door. You take a moment to stare at the door, it’s going to be afternoon soon, and there’s still no sign of Donghyuck. You wonder if he’s even taken up the challenge, and is actually going about Seoul right now.

“Why do you keep staring at the door today? Are you waiting for someone?” Eunha, your co-worker, asks. You shake your head, shrugging, “I just can’t wait to knock off, that’s all,” you lie. Eunha furrows her brows teasingly, leaning in close as she says, “Please, I’ve worked with you for years now. That isn’t your ‘I-can’t-wait-to-knock-off’ look,” she says, pulling back.

You roll your eyes, hitting her on the arm lightly, before re-busying yourself with preparing the orders of the customers.

Another few hours go by, and now, the sun is beginning to set.

“You’re staring at the door again,” Eunha lilts, a teasing smile on her face as she sips at her coffee. “Stop, I’m really just excited to knock off soon,” you say.

“If you want to knock off so bad, you can knock off now,” she says, placing her coffee down on the counter. “I’m cool with closing on my own tonight.” She blinks her big eyes a few times, smiling teasingly, knowing that you’d deny her offer.

“I can’t do that to you,” you say, laughing awkwardly, “Think about all the times you sacrificed your nights staying with me for closing. I ought to return the favour.”

“Ought?” Eunha repeats, giggling to herself. “You’re definitely hiding something.”

You roll your eyes, moving on to do the dishes to avoid slipping up any further.

Donghyuck sighs, coming out of the eighth café he’s looked into today. As expected, this is basically mission impossible. How is he supposed to be able to find you, when you didn’t even bother with giving him any clue aside from that it’s located in Seoul?

He looks around, trying to spot any other cafés that might be in the area, before he’d move on to the next.

There’s still a good few hours before the end of September 19.

He might still have a chance.

You bite down on your lip. It’s five minutes to closing.

“I guess we weren’t meant to be,” you murmur, eyes refusing to leave the doors.

“Whoever it is you’re waiting for, they’ll show up,” Eunha chimes in, continuing to wipe down the counter.

“What makes you so sure?” you ask.

“Because it’s my first time seeing you anticipate something like that,” she says. Eunha might not be someone you contact outside of work, so it’s easy to forget how well she knows you. But Eunha is right. You've never anticipated anything this much.

“I hope you’re right,” you say, pursing your lips.

You didn’t know it a year ago when you made the proposition, but you know it now.

You really want to see Lee Donghyuck walking through those doors.

But as the time slowly dwindles away, you can’t be sure that it isn’t just your own wishful thinking.

Donghyuck kicks at the pavement, running a hand through his hair. The day is almost over, and still, no luck. He has been to eighteen different cafés already, and there’s just no sign of you.

If only he didn’t have to work the morning shift, then he’d have more time to actually look in more cafés.

He stops a short distance in front of the nineteenth café. He isn’t usually one to believe in anything like fate, but he’s desperate at this point. He looks to the sky, clasping his hands together, “Please. Make 19 our special number. Please let y/n be in this café.”

Taking in a deep breath, Donghyuck walks forward, towards the café.

Eunha checks the time, then looks over at you. You're sitting there, dazed, expression blank. She purses her lips in sympathy, calling out, “Do you want me to lock the doors or wait another f-”

Eunha is cut off when the bell chimes. You immediately turn towards the entrance of the café.

It's Donghyuck.

Oh gosh, it's actually Donghyuck.

Donghyuck makes eye contact with you. A sense of accomplishment and warmth overwhelms him. You feel your nose stinging, and your heart swelling.

“Sorry, we’re cl-”

You don’t know what comes over you, but you run forward. You throw yourself into Donghyuck’s arms, hugging him tight.

“Okay then, I’ll be over there,” Eunha says, excusing herself.

You pull away.

“You found me,” you sniff, grinning wide.

“I promised I would,” Donghyuck replies, reflecting your expression.

“I guess we are really meant for something more,” you mumble, taking in the moment.

“So,” Donghyuck says, holding out his phone. “Can I finally have your number?”

[rae-writes]

You and me, Me and you

Kite x reader

warnings : mentions of nsfw, mentions of death, slight angst

word count : 2.k

Authors note : I have a problem with commas, despite being a straight A student in my English classes, I still forget where I should and should not put a comma so please don’t mind if they’re in the wrong spot.

You met Kite when you were quite young. You were thrown out on the streets at an early age and had just been caught stealing. They would’ve beaten you if Kite hadn’t saved you, swooping down from the rooftops and distracting them. 

“GO!” the boy in blue yelled. He looked a few years older with long, snowy white hair that went down to his waist and a cap that helped cover his eyes. That’s all you saw about him though, as you quickly turned and followed his order. The mysterious boy followed, eventually passing you as you both ran from the townsfolk. 

You stopped a ways away, breathing heavily. “T-Thank you. My name is Y/n.”

The boy glanced down, seeming hesitant to tell you who he was. After a bit of catching your breaths, however, he spoke up, “Kite. My name is Kite.”  He continued to observe you before giving you an offer, “Would you...like to come stay with me? You don’t seem very good at being able to live on the streets.” 

Your eyes sparkled, “Really? You’d let me? I was thrown out not too long ago...so I don’t know much.” 

Kite nodded, motioning for you to follow him. You walked for a while before coming up to an opening. Upon entering, you noticed it was a sewer, which didn’t seem to be that bad. After a few more turns, you came to a dead end where two or three animals were laying around a small spot on the floor with some dirty blankets piled up. 

A grin broke out onto your face, “This is so cool!” In return, Kite himself gave you a small smile. 

“This is where I stay and now that you’ll be staying too, no one can know about this place alright? From now on it’s just you and me.” 

You looked up at your savior and smiled a big, bright smile, “Me and you!”

----

After a few years of living together, someone was waiting for you and Kite when you got back from getting food that day. The man introduced himself as Ging Freecss, a pro hunter. Kite had started pestering the man to teach him to be one, and after a while you did too. Ging eventually agreed, although you weren’t his “Official” students or anything. Soon, it was time for you to take the hunter exam. 

“I’m so nervous, Kite!” 

Said boy rolled his eyes at you, “It’ll be fine Y/n. We were trained by one of the best hunters in the world. We got this.” Kite stopped walking when he noticed you weren’t following, stepping back to stand next to you again. 

“I know, it’s just...what if you pass and I don’t? I don’t...I don’t wanna be left behind.” Your voice wavered as you looked down to hide the tears that were forming. “I feel like I just found you and I don’t wanna lose you.” 

A hand came down on your shoulder, “You won’t lose me.” Before you knew it you were pulled into a warm, brief hug. Looking up, you saw Kite give you a confident smile, “It’s you and me, remember?” 

You nodded, smiling back at your best friend, “Me and you.”

----

You both, not surprisingly, passed the exam with flying colors. You were very excited to relax and celebrate a little, but your mentor had different ideas. Your and Kite’s next “official” hunter task was to find Ging. He gave the two of you his hunter’s license and set off to go “hide”. 

“Find one of the world’s best hunters? Is he insane?!” You were, to put it simply, not happy. You and Kite had just passed the hunter exam, which took a month or two, and now you were being forced to play hide and seek? Seriously? 

“We’ll find him, Y/n.” Kite was rummaging through your guys’ stuff, getting ready for the hard journey ahead of you. 

“We will? In case you haven’t realized, he’s literally-” 

“One of the best hunters in the world. Yes, I know. Which is exactly why we’re gonna find him.” He stood, walking over to grab your hand, “You and me.” 

You sighed, but smiled nonetheless, “Me and you.” 

----

After a few months of hard work and sleepless nights, you and Kite had located Ging. The trip wasn’t in vain as you’d thought it’d be, as you had met a lot of friends along the way. There wasn’t anything you really needed to do after hunting down your former mentor, so the two of you finally had time to relax and celebrate how far you’d gotten. 

“Well Kite, you were right. We did it.” You were impressed with yourself, even more so with Kite. You never thought as a kid this is where you’d be, but you weren’t complaining. 

“Y/n.”

You blinked, looking over at Kite in confusion at his sudden serious tone. “Kite?”

He stood to his full height, walking over to you and holding his hand out. As soon as you grabbed it, Kite pulled you in close, to the point where you could feel his breath fanning on your face. “Y/n...I never thought I’d have someone to care about until you came along. These past years have been amazing to say the least so...I uh...would you be my girlfriend?” 

You stared at him in shock, noting his pink tinted cheeks and downcast eyes. He was just about to pull away from you when you grabbed the sides of his face, “Kite…” His eyes shot up to yours and you smiled, tearing up slightly. “Of course I’ll be your girlfriend.” 

Kite’s eyes widened, before he brought you into a kiss. It was kinda messy and definitely inexperienced, but you loved it. This is what you’ve wanted for years, although much to your dismay, he pulled away and leaned in to rest his forehead on yours. 

“You and me.” He nuzzled your noses together, going in to brush his lips against yours.

You brought him in for another kiss, “Me and you.” 

----

The night Kite made love to you was beautiful. The area was surrounded by trees with a crystal clear pond in the middle, sparkling due to the starry sky. It was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” 

Carding your hands through his long hair, you smiled, “I’ve never wanted anything more than this.” The pure love that shone through the smile Kite gave you was heart melting. He gently pushed you backwards, laying you down on the soft forest floor. 

Kite leaned in, brushing his lips against yours, looking in your eyes with an abundance of emotion. His touch was soft, gentle as the two of you undressed each other in the light of the moon. It gave the impression that Kite was glowing, his beautiful white hair and pale skin sparkling in an ethereal way. 

“You and me.” Kite’s gaze was intense, something you wanted to get closer to and shy away from at the same time. The way he was making sure you really wanted this almost brought tears to your eyes. 

You’ve never loved anyone more than you loved the man on top of you. “Me and you.” 

----

You and Kite had really always been together, you couldn’t even remember the days before you met him anymore. So while this didn’t come as a surprise to anyone that knew the two of you, it still made you shocked and overjoyed. 

“Y/n,” 

You’re heart rate accelerated at nearly an alarming speed.

“We have been together for as long as I can remember and it’s always been the two of us. Maybe that’s why this won’t mean anything to a lot of people but it means something to me. So would you, Y/n L/n,” Kite looked up from his position on the ground, pulling out a glittering silver band, “Marry me?” 

You couldn’t fight the smile that overtook your face, immediately dropping down to be eye level with your Fiance. “Yes!” You weren’t able to say anything else as Kite basically launched himself into your embrace, the two of you falling to the ground while laughing happily. 

Kite pulled himself off of you, “I know it’s not much but…” he flashed the inside of the ring to you. Engraved on the side was ‘You and me, Me and you.’ 

Tears sprang, and you choked out a laugh. “Kite, it’s perfect. You’re perfect.” Wrapping your arms around his neck, you laughed, whether in disbelief that you had gotten so lucky or in pure joy you couldn’t decide. 

He pulled back, grabbing your left hand and sliding the ring on. “I was gonna wear mine but I figured you would want to put it on me.” Kite pulled out an exact copy of yours, engraving and all, just a little bigger. “You and me.”

Your face was starting to hurt from all the smiling you were doing as you gently took his ring and put it on his left hand. “Me and you.” 

----

Tragedies are a given in life, you just weren’t expecting one to happen so soon. The Chimera Ant came out of nowhere, Kite taking the blow as he tried to protect the three of you. Your entire world had stopped and you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

The single, torn off arm laying on the grass would haunt you for the rest of your life. Time slowed as you looked back to Kite and the thing standing next to him. Anger and blood lust engulfed you, both your and Gon’s nen spiking in rage. 

Killua knocked Gon clean out, which made you falter in your movements. 

“A wise decision Killua,” 

your eyes snapped to Kite, 

“Now take Gon and get outta here!” 

Killua turned and ran but you stayed rooted to the floor as Kite summoned crazy slots. You couldn’t leave Kite, you wouldn’t. However when his gaze locked onto yours, you swear you heard him say something. 

“You and me.” 

You choked on the air you were breathing as tears started running down your face, shaking your head violently. Number 2 was picked and his scythe materialized. His eyes told what more he couldn’t say and you felt your heart shatter. 

“Me and you.” You turned and ran, sobbing as you quickly caught up with Killua and grabbed both him and Gon. You didn’t let go of the boys or stop running until you reached the checkpoint entry of the NGL. 

After a few hunters arrived, you set off without a word, going back to the spot you had regrettably left Kite. When you arrived, nothing was there. Not even his arm. That gave you a shred of hope but the dread in your stomach wouldn’t disappear, even as you screamed out in pure despair, “KITE!” 

----

You, Gon, and Killua were taken to the place they were holding Kite. Shoot and Knuckle had found him a couple days ago, however, the three of you had to wait and were watched to determine if you could handle seeing him. Shoot released Kite from his nen cage and Gon was the first one to walk forward, getting slapped around by what looked like Kite but you knew it really wasn’t.  

Gon had left the room, his promise of fixing the man in front of you lingering in the air. It felt like you were paralyzed, stuck having to watch the man you loved stumble around like a puppet. 

“Y/n...”

“Leave.”

“But-”

“I said LEAVE!” 

Everyone filed out of the room at your request and as soon as the door shut, you broke down into sobs. What did they do to your love? You glanced up at Kite, pondering how you could get close to him without making him attack you. 

“Kite…” you forced your nen to grab a hold of him and walked forward. “Kite.” 

He started thrashing, growling at you but unable to move as your nen kept him in place. With the way he was now, you were at eye level as you reached your arms up and wrapped them around his neck. Miraculously, he stopped trying to attack as you nuzzled your cheek against his. 

“I swear, I will help Gon fix you. We still haven’t gotten married, you know. You’re...you’re still too young to go, we have our whole lives ahead of us.” You pulled away, grabbing his face, “We will fix you. I will fix you.” Leaning up, you kissed his forehead and backed away. 

Kite started thrashing around once more as you headed toward the door. 

“You and me, Me and you.” you released your nen and shut the door, hearing Kite trying to knock it down. You would fix him. Even if it killed you. 

----

It felt like years, but really it had only been around 30 minutes. You and Gon were running towards the place Kite was being held, with Pitou running in between. Again, it felt like years before you reached the large building and made your way down to Kite. What happened next made you wish you never came at all. 

“This man...This man is dead. He died in our fight.” 

There was a sharp ringing sound in your ears, and your throat closed up on its own. You watched as Kite swayed from side to side before falling to the ground face first. You heard a scream and perhaps it was yours but you paid no mind as everything started to blur. Not long after, Gon dropped to the floor.

“Kite is...dead?”

You nearly dropped as well, stumbling towards your lover and pulling him in your arms. There were no sounds as you sat with Kite draping over your lap, his head resting on your chest. Your body could not even produce the means to sob and cry out, everything was just numb. You didn’t notice when Gon and Pitou left, you stayed rooted to your spot on the floor while subconsciously rocking Kite back and forth with your body.

“Kite...it was supposed to be Me and you, remember?”

----

When Morel busted through your hospital room, saying that Kite was alive you thought you’d finally gone crazy. After his explanation though, you realized that you hadn’t lost Kite after all, even if he was in a girl’s body now. So after Gon recovered, you followed along with him to where Kite was staying. 

Gon motioned for you to go visit Kite first, so you let Spinner lead you to the room where he was in. 

“Kite? Someone’s here to see you.”

“Send them in.” His voice was higher than it had been, but still kept the rich sounding tone.

You quietly walked in, noting his back was turned toward you. He stood, maybe too soon for your liking, and turned. 

Kite now had pinkish red hair, with purple eyes and freckles. He was also...shorter? Your lips curled up, a small laugh coming from you. 

“What’s so funny, Y/n?”

You faltered at the mention of your name, finally looking into Kite’s eyes. “I’m taller now.” 

That made his lips curl up as well, “That’s what you’re worried about?” The laugh that followed was eerily familiar. 

You couldn’t stop the tears that started streaming down your face. Kite was actually here. Alive and in front of you. So why couldn’t you move?

“I know it’s weird. I look different and well...I am in a girl’s body now. But I...I hope that doesn’t make you run away from me.”

You glared, although your heart wasn’t really into it. “Seriously? We’ve been through everything together and you think I’m gonna run away just because your shape is different?” Your body moved on it’s own, wrapping your arms around Kite’s waist and lifting him up. “Idiot.” 

His laugh this time made your heart melt as you gently set him back down. The hand that caressed your features were so familiar yet so different at the same time. “You and me.” 

You smiled, fishing out Kite’s silver band from your pocket and presenting it to him, jokingly dropping down on one knee. “Me and you.”