#and yeah. soccer candles. for some reason.

[wolfvirago]

;; this is all you get for munday

[novoaa1writes]

candles

image source

pairing(s): dark!wanda maximoff x reader

summary:

you’ve been feeling strange for the past month, particularly when it comes to dating. 

you do your best to ignore it, thinking it’ll resolve itself on its own—given time, that is.

it doesn’t. 

(and it’s got everything to do with wanda.)

[also available on ao3]

word count: ~5,300

rating: mature

warnings: dark!wanda, NON-CON spanking (with a belt), NON-CON BDSM play, mental manipulation, partial mind control, emotional manipulation, mental coercion, trauma bonding, toxic dynamics, drinking, possessive!wanda, non-con mind-reading, vandalism, adultery (not in reference to you or wanda), brief instances of slut-shaming

notes: [requested by anon] reader’s sexuality isn’t explicitly stated, but ex-partners of different genders are referenced/mentioned

— —

wanda uses a couple bulgarian terms of endearment for reader here, so below is a lil’ list in the order of which they appear.

принцеса | printsesa | princess [feminine term of endearment] мила | mila | honey [feminine term of endearment] любима | lubima | sweetheart [feminine term of endearment]

*note: all of these are exactly one letter away from being precise matches to synonymous terms in russian. HOWEVER, the bulgarian alphabet and the russian alphabet are different—granted, in fairly minor ways. for one, while both are comprised of cyrillic lettering, russian has 33 while bulgarian only has 30.  

— —

You have no fucking clue what’d gotten into you. 

One moment, things were fine—good, even. And the next… well. 

You’ll explain. 

It was something like 11:30 on a Saturday night, and you were drunk. 

Well, not drunk. More like buzzed. 

But whatever, right? Considering the week you’d had, you deserved to let loose, even if only for a night. 

Monday night saw a very angry and decidedly unhinged soccer mom banging on your door, screeching vehemently about the ‘two-faced slut’ who ruined her marriage and demanding to be let in so that she could ‘make her sorry.’ Turns out, the older guy your roommate had been sleeping with as of late was married—not that he’d bothered to share that particular bit of information with her, obviously. 

The two of you spent the better part of the evening barricaded inside, passing a bottle of cheap wine back and forth while trying to explain to the 911 operator that you weren’t messing around, that there really was an angry soccer mom on your doorstep and you were actively fearing for your safety. 

She eventually left around 10:00pm—no thanks to the police, since the 911 operator hadn’t even bothered to give them a call. It wasn’t until the next morning when you left for work that you saw the woman’s parting gift to the pair of you: the word ‘HOMEWRECKER’ spray-painted across the front door in obnoxious red lettering. 

Bye-bye, security deposit. 

That same night, you made your roommate promise to start dating people in a similar age range—because really, the both of you were stressed enough as it was without worrying about coming in between yet another middle-aged couple’s dying marriage. 

The rest of the week wasn’t much better. 

On Thursday, your balding creep of a boss had made yet another blatant pass at you in the workplace, making you seriously consider (and not for the first time) the prospect of just quitting and being done with it. 

Then, at shit o’clock on a Friday morning, you awoke to an urgent phone call informing you that an ex of yours (one you were actually on semi-decent terms with) had gotten into a fairly serious car accident, and still had you marked down as her emergency contact. 

30 minutes later found you showing up at the hospital just moments after your ex’s current girlfriend had arrived, which then prompted the whole ‘you still being your ex’s emergency contact’ revelation when the current girlfriend demanded to know what you were doing there, which ended up being… well, you’ll just say it wasn’t pretty, and leave it at that. 

And your ex was going to be completely fine, anyways. She just had some minor cuts and abrasions, and would need to undergo a fairly minor (read: minimally invasive) surgery over the next couple days. 

Before leaving, you instigated a quick check-in with the doctors to ensure they had everything they needed—which then turned into you providing a list of allergies, as your ex wouldn’t likely be conscious for another couple of hours, and apparently the current girlfriend didn’t know of her sensitivities to penicillin and phenobarbital… which the current girlfriend was less than happy about, if the daggers she glared at you were any indication. 

Whatever. You were just trying to help. 

You thanked the doctors, told them to feel free to call you if anything went awry, then asked if they might tell your ex to call you when she awoke. You thought about offering some words of comfort to the current girlfriend as she sat vigil at your ex’s bedside, but the murderous glower she shot you the moment you got within ten feet of her was more than enough to make you think better of it. 

With that, you left. 

So… yeah. It’d been a shitty week. 

And now, here you were: a girls’ night out at the lively nightclub you and your roommate had scoped out just last weekend, tossing back $12 cocktails and letting the trashy EDM beat blaring over the speakers drown out the rest of your thoughts. 

You’d been feeling a little weird all week—all month, really. 

As far as you were concerned, this was exactly what the doctor had ordered.

 So, when a cute guy wearing black jeans and a white T-shirt that was at least a couple sizes too big yet did well to compliment his well-muscled torso came up to you and started chatting you up at the bar, you didn’t blow him off.

The exact opposite, in fact.

He was nice, and funny, and had a gorgeous smile that made your chest feel warm for reasons that had nothing to do with the alcohol. When he flirted with you, you flirted right back. 

You felt a little guilty for doing so, though you couldn’t exactly put a finger on why that was. Either way, you didn’t allow yourself to dwell on it for very long. 

After all, you’d been feeling hints of that for the past month, if not longer. It seemed to happen whenever you flirted with a cute guy, or went out on another Tinder date with a pretty girl, or even hugged one of your close friends. 

You’d get this painful tightening sensation in your gut, nausea roiling in your abdomen… a distant, lofty voice in your head telling you that this was wrong, that you already belonged to someone else. 

Which was pointless, really. Stupid. 

You were single. 

Your last serious relationship (barring the one with your now-hospitalized ex-girlfriend) had been over seven months ago with an eccentric guy named Lukas. He was kind, well-meaning… a bit of a dork at his very core, but you always found that more endearing than anything else. You’d dated him for four and a half months before deciding to break it off; because as much as you cared for him and enjoyed being around him, you didn’t love him, and you knew by then that you never would. 

You thought about him, from time to time—even missed him now and again.

And yet, the strangest thing about the shameful feeling you’d get whenever your roommate so much as brushed a friendly kiss up against your cheek—it had absolutely nothing to do with Lukas. 

You didn’t know how you knew that, but you did. 

Whatever.

This guy was not Lukas. 

His name was Des—short for Desmond, you learned over your fourth sugary-sweet cocktail of the night. He was charming and slightly foul-mouthed, but conscientious and passably polite where it mattered. He didn’t grope your ass or stare at your tits, nor did he make any lewd commentary about your body in any capacity. 

He also smelled… really good, like Old Spice and spearmint gum and the barest hint of cigarette smoke. 

That was more than enough for you. 

(Whatever, alright? Decent guys were in short supply these days.)

You smiled and let him buy you another drink, even after you’d insisted that he really, really didn’t have to. And when an obnoxious pop song with a beat that was far more catchy than you’d have liked to admit came over the speakers, you let him coax you out to the dance floor with minimal resistance. 

It was… fun. You liked the way his hands rested on either of your hips—gentle, almost careful; holding you like he understood he didn’t have a right to your body, like he was more than content that you allowed him this to even think of demanding any more.

Despite the twinges of guilt flaring in your gut, you let yourself get a little more comfortable… dancing closer and closer to him amidst a packed crowd of writhing bodies, letting your breasts graze up against his chest. 

It was teasing—provocative, even. A test, of sorts—one that Des passed with flying colors. 

He didn’t do a thing to rush you, just kept dancing across from you with his hands on your hips and his darkened gaze on yours—seeming fully content to let you set the pace for the moment. And God, but the way he was looking at you… patient but eager, like he wanted nothing more than to crush your body against his own and grind himself into you like an animal—and yet, still, he held himself back. 

You couldn’t help but find that attractive as hell. 

Looping your arms around his neck, you let your body to press flush against his as you swayed to the beat of the song, not shying away from the slight stiffness you could feel growing against your hip. 

That guilty, nauseous feeling in your gut pulled tighter. 

You ignored it, and, when he leaned a little closer to shout over the deafening music, “Would it be alright if I kissed you?”... well. 

You wasted absolutely no time in lunging up on the tips of your toes to capture his lips in a messy open-mouthed kiss, the strobe lights of the club fading into obscurity around you. His lips were warm and gentle against yours—tentative, at first, until you pressed a little harder and traced the seam of his lips with your tongue… and, yeah; that did the trick. 

A moment later, his lips parted to let out a quiet groan directly into your mouth as he began to reciprocate in earnest, setting every nerve ending on your body alight with electrifying want. 

And that’s when it happened. 

Seemingly out of nowhere, a twisted sort of clarity hit you square in the chest—slowly, and then all at once. 

The next bits were something of a blur. 

You tore yourself away from Des, turned to forcibly elbow your way through a floor of grinding bodies. You thought you heard him call out your name, and more than a couple people on the dancefloor turned to glare at you as you rudely brushed past them without care—but, whatever. 

You texted… someone, telling them you were headed back to the apartment, so they shouldn’t bother waiting up. The group chat, maybe? 

And now… Now. 

Before you can blink, the past crashes into the present, and you find yourself back outside in the pitch-black night. 

It’s dark… chilly. A brisk wind catches you the moment you stumble out onto the sidewalk, assaulting every inch of your exposed skin like scores of needles piercing your flesh. You whimper, shudder, and hug your arms around your body—trying to warm yourself back up like a scared little kid who forgot their jacket. 

For the first time that night, you regret the tiny black babydoll dress you’d chosen to wear for the evening—and that’s not even to mention the four-inch heels. 

It’s miserable, to be sure, but you can hardly focus on it for very long. 

No, you have to go somewhere. You feel sick, and cold, and wrong in a way you’re loath to even begin explaining to anyone else. 

And your head… you’re positively aching for something—someone to make this better.

You need… Wanda. 

Yes, Wanda is the person you’re looking for. She can make all of this better. 

You don’t know why, but you’re sure of it. You just need to find her. Hopefully she’s spending the night in her apartment on that super cozy sofa of hers, drinking hot chocolate and binge-watching something on Netflix like the two of you did a couple weeks back. 

A fond grin curves your lips at the recollection as you stumble off down the sidewalk, headed for the nearest subway station. 

Another wintry gust of wind hits you square in the chest, and you pinch your forearm hard, silently willing yourself to focus. 

The station should be less than a block down, if you’re remembering correctly. 

At the next street corner, you manage to brandish your pepper spray in one hand while you rummage around in your purse for your MetroCard with the other. 

It’s cold as hell, and you’re probably a little too drunk to be walking through the City streets alone right now, but you don’t much care. 

All you gotta do is find Wanda. That’s all. 

She’ll make everything better again. 

— —

Where everything else is confusing, there’s one part that seems to make sense—Wanda. 

You nearly pick a fight with the card reader at the subway entrance when it makes you swipe your card three times to let you through, and even the stairs leading down to the lower tracks are more of a challenge than they probably should be… and yet, somehow, the rest of it is blessedly simple. A no-brainer, really.  

You know which train you need to take… the blue one that arrives in four minutes. You know you need to stay on it for five stops before getting off. 

Once you’re up at ground level, you’ll have a short walk ahead of you—one that you know like the back of your hand despite only ever having been to Wanda’s a couple of times. 

You’ll enter Wanda’s apartment building, take the elevator right up to floor four, and boom! Home free. 

You do exactly that.

It takes a short time (thankfully) and there’s not an ounce of uncertainty within you all the while, like you’ve done this 100 times before.  

In seemingly no time at all, you’re there—standing on Wanda’s doorstep, knocking a couple times just beneath the burnished bronze ‘4A’ nailed into her door. 

Your head feels all light and dizzy; you’re still shuddering from the time you spent out in the cold; but—

“One sec!” Wanda’s muffled voice comes from inside, the mere sound of it washing over you like a soothing balm—promising relief. 

You’re safe now. 

You made it.  

— —

The moment the door swings open to reveal a bleary-eyed Wanda Maximoff dressed in tiny grey pajama shorts, an oversized Star Trek T-shirt, and nothing else, it’s like everything falls back into place. 

It’s like… like you can breathe again.

You’re still drunk, and shivering, and more than a bit confused; but now that Wanda’s awake and here and smirking like she knows exactly what’s happening even if you don’t, you feel… better, somehow. Not nearly so lost as you were before. 

“Y/N,” Wanda greets, stepping aside and offering out a hand to help you inside. You’re quick to take it. “I was not expecting you,” she drawls, though everything about her demeanor is saying the opposite as she shuts and locks the door behind you. 

You pay it little mind. “Yeah, I... ” you trail off, turning to face her even as an embarrassed flush warms your cheeks. All of a sudden, you can’t help but feel rather ridiculous for knocking on her door and barging in so late—especially without calling first. “I’m so sorry, I...  I don’t know why I’m here.”

Wanda just tilts her head, appraising you curiously even as the ghost of a knowing smile curves her lips. “Are you sure about that?”

The heat in your cheeks seems to intensify tenfold at that. “I… I need to tell you something,” you hear yourself say, and the moment it’s registered, you realize that it’s true. 

You feel… guilty, all of a sudden. Nauseous, too. Scared. 

You danced with that guy—Des. You flirted with him. You let him touch you… You kissed him. Why would you do that?

In the present moment, Wanda nods, like that makes perfect sense. Like all of this makes perfect sense. 

“Okay,” she acquiesces lightly, flares of crimson flitting through her measured gaze. “Is it something I’ll have to punish you for?”

‘Punish’ me? What—?

You feel Wanda’s presence in your head… inconspicuous tendrils sifting through your thoughts, worming their way through your scattered memories. 

No point in lying. 

“Y-Yes,” you hear yourself say. Much like earlier, it isn’t until the moment you’ve confirmed it aloud that you know it to be true. You danced with someone else. You flirted with him. You let him touch you… kiss you. “I… I’m so sorry, Wanda; I-I don’t know what I was thinking.”

You see the moment Wanda finds it—your memories of the nightclub. Meeting Des at the bar. Flirting with him… Kissing him. 

The look on her pretty features goes from bemused to disbelieving to absolutely murderous in zero seconds flat, and the realization hits like a freight train that you’re really in for it now. 

Fuck. 

“Go to the bedroom,” she snarls, her typically blue-green eyes burning with scarlet light. “Then take off that slutty dress. I want you on the bed, face down, naked. Do you understand?”

Your head is spinning; confusion rears its ugly head in your gut even as every ounce of your being screams at you to just obey—‘cause if you can just do that, the rest of it will start to make sense. (Maybe.) “O-Okay.”

— — 

You don’t know how you know the way to Wanda’s bedroom, but you do. 

You slip inside a room shrouded in darkness, and no matter how it strains your eyes to look around, you don’t dare turn on the light. 

It’s a modestly-sized bedroom with hardwood flooring, fairy lights along one wall, and an adjoining bathroom just opposite the entrance. There’s a tall, wooden dresser pressed up against the wall directly across from a large, king-sized bed. That’s pretty much all the detail you can manage to make out in the darkness.

Well, either way, you suppose it isn’t really your business. 

Wanda gave you specific instructions, and you intend to follow them. 

Not for the first time tonight, you’re quite happy about the babydoll dress you’re wearing—particularly for how easy it is to pull it up over your head and off, leaving you in panties and a strapless bra in a matter of moments. 

You fold the dress neatly in your hands, then leave it atop the dresser. Your panties and bra come next. In seconds, you’ve formed a small, tidy pile. 

As you step out of your heels and approach the neatly-made bed, you’re struck with the strangest sense of déjà vu… like you’ve done this before.

It lingers in the forefront of your mind as you crawl up onto the bed, biting back a groan at how easily the plush mattress gives way under your hands and knees. 

God, you’d kill to have a nice nap in this absolute cloud of a bed.

You shake the thought off, simultaneously willing the haze of intoxication fogging up your brain to abate.

You’re not here to nap. 

You settle face-down onto the bed, just like Wanda said. You’re careful not to rest your face on the pillows, though, since you have the distinct feeling that’s not something Wanda would want you doing without permission.

Instead, you fold your arms and rest your head atop your forearm, staring straight down into nothing. You scrunch up your features and let out a quiet huff as the black duvet tickles the tip of your nose. 

It smells like her—all of it does. Cinnamon, vanilla, and something indefinable; something that belongs to Wanda, and Wanda alone. 

You feel your body stiffen as a familiar set of footsteps draw near, approaching the room where you lie—naked and vulnerable atop Wanda’s bed.

The patter of Wanda’s gait becomes almost soundless as she enters, circling around the bed over towards the nightstand. You don’t dare to turn your head and watch as she pulls out one of the drawers, rummaging through it until she finds… well, whatever it is she’s looking for, you suppose. 

A moment later, there’s the telltale chk! of a match being struck, and a hiss as the phosphorous tip lights itself aflame. 

It’s quiet for a minute... then two. The only sounds you can hear are your breathing and the strike of a match every time Wanda lights another. 

Gradually, gentle flares of light grow in your periphery, bathing the room in a dim, yellow-y glow. She’s lighting candles—a lot of them. 

You’ve always loved candles. 

A couple minutes later, she’s finished, and she returns to tuck the matchbox safely back in the drawer. 

You lose track of her as she retreats once more, and your mounting curiosity is more than piqued when you hear her rummaging through the dresser near the foot of the bed; still, you don’t dare turn and look. 

Instead, you wait, fetid nausea churning low in your gut, pinpricks of apprehension dancing across every inch of exposed skin. Your heart thuds painfully against your ribcage as she takes something out from the dresser drawer, then shuts it with an audible thud!

You swallow the lump in your throat and urge yourself to focus on your breathing. 

In, out. 

In, out. 

In… out.

“I’m disappointed in you, Y/N,” Wanda’s voice comes from somewhere behind you, genuine hurt coloring her hushed tone. 

You have to fight the urge to shudder as a chill runs down your spine. “I… I’m sorry, Wanda,” you say meekly, pathetically, cheeks hot with shame. 

And the worst part? You’re not lying. 

You listen carefully for the sounds of her bare feet padding across the floor as she circles the bed once more, crouching down right beside you in the very corner of your periphery. 

“Look at me,” she orders, gentle yet firm. 

You do. 

The moment you meet her gaze, you can’t help the errant thought entering your mind that she looks so pretty like this—face bare of makeup; long brown hair piled into a messy bun atop her head; dainty features cast into darkened shadows by the low, yellow light of burning candles clustered together atop the nightstand. 

The muted light seems to soften her anger, her pain… allowing her to really look her age for the very first time since you’ve known her. 

“You think too loudly, Y/N.” Wanda’s words are dry, almost teasing as they jolt you back into reality. “Focus on me, please.”

You do. 

“You belong to me,” she asserts after a beat of silence, an uncharacteristically intent and almost solemn look splayed across her dimly-lit features. “I thought you understood that.”

The words confuse you even as they seem to resonate poignantly with some fundamental part of you… a part of you that categorically refuses to be ignored. 

“Wanda…” you trail off, bewilderment and contrition warring violently within your chest until it aches to draw breath. “I’m confused, Wanda,” you whimper out finally, overwhelmed tears burning in your eyes. “I-I-I don’t understand what’s happening—” 

Wanda cuts you off with a derisive snort. “Yes, clearly,” she agrees, her tone ripe with sardonic ire. “You’ve forgotten yourself. You’ve forgotten who owns you.”

You worry your lower lip between your teeth, desperately trying to make sense of it all. “Is that why…” You search Wanda’s eyes intently. “... I-I felt sick, an-and… guilty about dancing with Des.”

Something like anger flares in her gaze, hot and bitter, and you have to resist the urge to shrivel beneath it. “That boy had no right to touch what’s rightfully mine.”

“B-But then… why didn’t I remember?” you ask, utterly forlorn. “I-I felt it last weekend, too, but I… I didn’t—” 

“Last weekend?” Wanda repeats, features hardening.

Oh, shit. You feel your cheeks get hot again. “I… I shouldn’t have brought it up, Wan’, I’m sorry—”

“What happened last weekend?” she interjects, her tone cold and hard like a double-edged blade. “You can tell me yourself, or I can start looking.”

You shiver. “I… I went on a-a… a date with a girl that I met online,” you admit, tears welling in your eyes even as Wanda’s jaw visibly tightens. “I-It was just the one time! A-And nothing happened; we didn’t even k-kiss! I just… I didn’t… I didn’t know—”

“Yes. You’re right; you didn’t know.” Wanda stands abruptly, then, and it’s at that moment that you see the folded belt in her hands—thick, worn leather with a sterling silver buckle. 

An icy sense of dread blossoms in your chest, chilling you from the inside out. 

Is she going to—? 

“I was indulgent before… I let you get away with far too much. I will not make the same mistake again.”

With that, she turns to circle back around the bed, the belt buckle audibly jangling in her hands with every step. 

“I have to punish you, принцеса,” she continues, her voice scarcely more than a whisper as she comes to stand near the foot of the bed—and somehow, you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that there’s no convincing her otherwise. 

She’s going to punish you, and it’s going to hurt. Bad. 

All at once, panic seizes you. You squirm, writhing in an effort to get up and off the bed—

Only to be stopped by tendrils of lurid crimson curling around either wrist, forcing them together just over your head like magic—glowing crimson cuffs holding both arms fast to the headboard. On a whim, you test your legs—tensing and pulling, only to be met with iron-clad resistance encircling either ankle in a tight, unrelenting grip. 

Well, fuck.

“W-Wanda,” you plead, hardly paying any mind to the way your voice trembles. “Please, I—I don’t want—”

“I do not enjoy punishing you, мила,” she laments, almost sounding genuinely apologetic. It tugs at your heartstrings in a curious way—something you really don’t have time to examine right now. “But you did something bad. And when you do bad things, there are consequences. You understand that, don’t you?”

A tear trickles down your cheek, warm and wet as you steel yourself for the first hit. “Y-Yes.”

“Good girl,” Wanda lauds, and you can’t help the surge of warmth that washes over you at the simple praise—the pride that blooms in your chest at knowing you’ve finally done something right. “Now—try and relax, принцеса, okay?”

It’s all the warning you get before the first blow comes down upon your bare arse with a resounding Crack!

White-hot pain flares across your bottom, racing up your spine like wildfire and tearing a strangled whimper from your throat. 

Jesus fucking Christ, that hurt—

Crack!

Crack!

Holy fuck. 

The impact of the leather against your naked cheeks leaves strips of fire burning in its wake, expelling all the air from your lungs in a choked-out rush. 

“P-Please, no, Wan’,” you beg breathlessly, struggling in vain even as coils of vibrant scarlet hold you fast, “it hurts, please—”

Crack!

“This is for your own good, baby,” Wanda coos, sounding for all the world as though she truly believes every word of it. 

Crack! This one lands directly across your sit spot, ripping a shriek from your lips as molten agony rocks you to your core. 

“Wan’—Fuck, please, no—”

Crack!

“G—God, fuck, pleasestop, please—”

Crack!

“P—Please, hurtssobad, I’m—”

Crack!

Crack!

Crack!

Crack!

“FUCK !”

Tears stream down your cheeks, wetting the black duvet beneath your face. You’re absolutely beside yourself with torment, your bare ass aflame with a pain unlike any you’ve ever known. 

Crack!

Crack!

… And the hits just keep coming—raining down stripes of blistering heat across your sore, bruised buttocks; pummeling your throbbing, exposed rear until it feels as though the entire area has just become one puffy, pulsating bruise. 

Crack!

All the fight has completely gone out of you; now, your body completely slack—devoid of any resistance even as every hit seems to sear itself into your impossibly tender bottom like a third-degree burn… The pain is absolutely incredible, unlike any else you’ve ever known.

You’ll do anything—and you really do mean anything—to make it stop. 

“P-P-Please, stop it, Wanda, PLEASE—”

Crack! Another hit directly across your burning sit spot rips a watery sob from your throat, followed by—  

Crack!

Crack!

It’s all you can do to keep yourself from hyperventilating until you pass out. 

Crack!

Agony blackens the edge of your vision, fresh tears streaking down your cheeks as you await another strike… 

But it doesn’t come. 

Wh—?

“Have you learned your lesson, мила?” Wanda asks, and this time, her voice comes from closer… like she’s right beside you. 

You don’t have it in you to be startled when a feather-light kiss lands itself between your shoulder blades, nor when one hand begins stroking up and down your heaving torso in soothing motions. 

“Y-Yes! I—please, God, yes,” you babble, overwhelmed by the sensation of unadulterated pain branding every inch of your battered arse. “I promise I’ll never, ever, ever do it again, Wan’—Won’t ever be with anyone else—jus-just please stop hurting me—I’ll be so good, please—”

“Shh,” Wanda shushes you tenderly. You feel yourself twitch as the mattress suddenly dips beside you. “It’s okay, любима,” she soothes, coming to rest beside you. “Just breathe, okay? Breathe.”

‘Breathe’...

Your pulse thunders in your ears; your ass is on fire with an anguish far beyond your years; and yet, there’s something undoubtedly soothing about her words as they wash over you in gentle waves… something that tells you you’re safe.  

Were you a little more lucid, you might’ve found that quite the nonsensical paradox—this feeling of safety and security with the woman who’d just beaten your arse raw without mercy no matter how you wailed and sobbed and begged for her to stop. 

But as it is, you’re not. 

Instead, you’re just broken and teary-eyed and in pain, and Wanda’s tenderness is a most welcome respite to alleviate that excruciating ache. 

You take a deep, shuddering breath, even if it burns your lungs something awful, and force yourself to let it out slowly. 

In, out. 

In, out.

In… out.

“That’s it, мила,” Wanda praises gently, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “You’re doing so well… Just like that.” Her fingers come to rest beneath your chin, urging you to turn and face her…

And you do, far too exhausted to even think of doing anything other than what she tells you to. Your lungs burn; your nose runs; and the pain in your bottom hasn’t abated any—if anything, it’s intensified.

You’re more than happy to be given something else to focus on.  

When you look at her, her blue-green eyes are wet—glossy with tears.

“Wanda?” you manage weakly, feeling your brow crease with worry. “You ‘kay?”

Wanda sniffles, huffs out a watery-sounding laugh. “Yes, Y/N, I’m alright,” she whispers, then leans forth to plant a gentle kiss upon the tip of your nose. “I’m just so very, very proud of you.”

Despite yourself, you feel a pleased flush spread throughout your body at that. “Really?” you mumble, exhaustion drooping your eyelids until it’s a challenge just to keep them open. 

Wanda nods, a tear sliding out of her eye that you yearn to reach forth and catch with your thumb—but alas, you’re far too weak. “Really.” 

You hum, burrowing your face further into the duvet beneath your cheek—even if it is still damp with your tears. “‘M sorry I was bad, Wan’,” you murmur, feeling darkness near on every side. “Didn’t mean’ta make you upset.”

“I don’t like punishing you, принцеса,” she says once more, and this time, you have no reason to doubt that she means it. Honestly, you don’t know how you ever could. “It hurts me just as much as it hurts you.”

You hum again. Your eyelids feel too heavy to open. “‘M sorry,” you say. “Gonna do better… make you proud… I promise.”

Wanda chuckles. The sound of it makes your chest feel loose and warm and happy. “You already do, darling girl,” she murmurs. You don’t know if it’s because she’s whispering, or you’re fading into sleep, but you can barely hear her when she repeats it once more: “You already do.”

Sleep descends upon you, then, and you succumb to it willingly, feeling safer and more at peace than you have in a very long time. 

— —

tagging:

[marvel]: @normanijauregui​

— —

end notes: yeah i don’t know what this is either. i was only aiming for maybe 1,000 words or something, but things happened and...

look. i haven’t been to therapy in a hot minute, ok?

link to masterlist

[writer-ish]

the little things

pairing: mason x detective (grace bennett) word count: 3K words | rating: T (language)

summary: An exhausted and overworked Detective gets a sweet surprise. For Week 2, Day 6 of @wayhavensummer: Farmer's Market.

special note: After maybe a month or so of writing nothing (aside from 100-200 words here and there that, had they not been on a computer, I would have immediately crumpled them up and thrown them into a wastebasket), I sat down today and wrote this entire thing in a few hours. It is raw, unedited, and probably more reflective of my own personal state of mind than I'd like. That said, I am yeeting it into the tumblr void and then going out for the night - so uh, enjoy? be kind? and thank you for reading. ♥️

“Let’s go to the thing.”

Detective Grace Bennett looked up from her computer screen, her gaze blurry and unfocused, as she tried to parse together the words she’d just heard coming from the doorway to her office.

“The… thing?” she mumbled distractedly, digging the heels of her hands into her eye sockets in an attempt to violently will them to work properly. What time is it—? It must still be midnight or close to it—

Blinking rapidly, she watched as the numbers on the bottom of her computer screen came into a sort of unsettled, electric focus.

6:02 AM.

Fuck.

She had been working on her reports for seven fucking hours. All the way through the night. Once again, forgoing sleep in an attempt to pretend she had a grasp on all the things that she was responsible for - Detective of Wayhaven, Agency liaison, good friend, good daughter, good—

She looked up, remembering once more that she was no longer alone at the station.

Mason stood in the doorway, languidly leaning against its frame, arms crossed. To the casual observer, his posture was relaxed, his expression nondescript.

But Grace knew him well enough now to recognize the sharp keenness in his eyes. The way they took in every detail of her appearance, from the haphazardly tossed-up hair, to the rumpled blouse, to what she could only presume were lines of haggard exhaustion running through her features.

He could likely smell the day-old ice cold coffee by her side. The half-eaten ham sandwich crumpled beside it.

Again, his expression hardly belied a recognition of any of that. Instead, he appeared to simply be a person waiting patiently to hear the answer to a question he’d asked.

But somehow - she didn’t know how, and yet - Grace knew better.

“I’m sorry,” she said with a sigh, pushing away from her desk. “What did you say again?”

“It’s Friday,” was his reply.

She inwardly groaned. Grace was not in the mood for riddles, and the enigmatic, indifferent phrasing of his response caused a surge of exhaustion-induced annoyance to flow through her body. Dropping her head into her hands, she took a deep breath.

Perhaps he took pity on her. Perhaps he realized that his typical reticent abruptness was not going to go over well this morning.

Whatever it was, Grace suddenly felt a hand on the back of her down-turned head. A light pat, then strong fingertips moving through the locks until they hit her scalp, kneading gently on contact.

She let out a soft groan, her shoulders wilting further, elbows almost giving out, as the painful yet pleasurable push of his fingers worked her sore and tired head and nape.

“The market thing,” he said softly after a moment, a moment in which she was certain she had become a barely-sentient pile of mush on top of her keyboard. “That they do in the square. It’s Friday. You like to go. I was going to take you.”

It took a moment for his words to penetrate the pleasure haze encompassing her weary brain, but when they did, she felt her body still.

He was offering to go to the Farmer’s Market with her?

It was true, she did enjoy going. Before the infiltration of Unit Bravo into their lives, her and Tina used to go together every week in the summer to peruse the wares and fresh produce of the local farmers—most coming from just outside the small city limits of Wayhaven, but others from even further away. There was always something delicious and fresh to purchase or some trinket that would catch their eye. Grace had lost count of the number of handmade soaps she’d impulsively bought, only to shove them under her bathroom sink and never use them.

But then, after the arrival of Unit Bravo, after Grace’s promotion, when things got busier - when things got more dangerous - she would find herself able to go less and less. If she did manage to make it out, she’d usually end up taking Nate with her for protection. It was the type of thing he enjoyed, too; just the concept of it, as well as the simple pleasure of a new experience. Plus, Mason had always refused to be caught dead anywhere near such a cacophonic plethora of different people, bright colours, and various smells.

So the fact that he was offering to take her today, now, was an incredibly unexpected development.

“Are you sure?” she asked, barely even trying to keep the disbelief out of her voice. She looked up at him, standing so closely to her, his hand still warm and comforting on the back of her neck. “You know it’s—the same, as it’s always been. Right?”

He snorted. “Yeah, I know. And yeah, I’m sure.”

“Alright, well—” She was about to acquiesce, self consciously taking her hair out of its messy bun and running her fingers through it in an ineffectual attempt to make it look presentable, but then she caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection of the computer screen and groaned. Suddenly she felt a need to backtrack on her initial agreement.

“Honestly? I look wrecked, I haven’t slept in twenty-four hours, and I doubt I’d be very good company right now. Also, you hate the Farmer’s Market. Why torture us both?”

Even as the words left her mouth, she knew she was making excuses for his sake more than her own. The fact was, she’d gotten a surge of adrenaline at the idea of going now, on a quiet, cool summer morning, when things would just be opening up and most of the town was still sleeping—to get a nice hot coffee and a pastry. To pick up some strawberries and peaches. To look for a new candle or maybe another handmade tsotchke that she didn’t need to add to her already colourful and cheerfully cluttered space. And, most of all, to spend the time with Mason.

But still. She looked like shit and she knew he hated the thought of going - Why did he offer, then? her traitorous thoughts couldn’t help but wonder - so what was the point?

As though he could read her roiling thoughts - the fact that she wanted to go and the reasons why she thought they shouldn’t - he affected a frustrated sigh and leaned over her, bracing one hand on her desk and running the other from her neck down to her back.

“Get up, Detective.” With the one arm around her back, he hoisted her out of her seat. She found herself stumbling into the warm comfort of his chest, her cheek resting against the soft material of his black t-shirt.

Her hands grasped at the back of it as she steadied herself and she looked up at him, even closer now, chest to chest, their arms around each other. He leaned forward and her breath hitched slightly, but his lips only met the tip of her nose before he pulled back and held her at arm’s length.

“Change,” he commanded, pointedly looking at her wrinkled shirt and coffee-stained trousers, “and then meet me outside the station. You have three minutes.”

Still reeling from the playful kiss, she touched her nose lightly and watched him saunter out.

It took her a moment to snap back to reality and remember what she was supposed to be doing. “Right, clothes.”

In two-and-a-half minutes, she had stripped down, shoved her old clothes in her bag, and changed into the spare outfit she kept in the office: a winning combo of bicycle shorts and a light-grey oversized shirt with the words WAYHAVEN PD on it in large block letters. She’d ditched the heels, slipped on her spare runners, and did a quick rinse and spit into her old coffee cup with the mouthwash she kept in her desk “for emergencies” only, managing to meet Mason outside with thirty seconds to spare.

She caught him flick his cigarette to the ground before straightening up as she approached.

As she always did when she had the opportunity, she found herself admiring the view he provided - tall, broad-shouldered and sinewy, like a Hellenic sculpture come to life. His hair tumbled in dark waves towards his shoulders - he needed a cut, she thought to herself - his mouth naturally sullen, even when it was pulled to the side in a smirk, like it was in that moment. Hands in the pockets of his dark jeans, half-tucked into his standard black boots, which he still wore despite the heat that was already beginning to infiltrate the crisp morning air.

He looked like a goddamn supermodel, while she looked like she was taking her two-point-five children to soccer practice. She tugged self-consciously at her shorts.

“This is all I had—” she began apologetically as soon as she got close to him, but her words were cut off by his lips on hers.

All thoughts of self-consciousness vanished as she wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. She felt her feet leave the ground as he held her closer to him, his mouth tasting faintly of cigarettes and entirely of Mason, a combination that always managed to make her feel lightheaded. She couldn’t help the tiny moan that escaped from deep in her throat and he tightened his grip on her further, stroking her tongue with his, leaving her pulse racing in more places than one.

After a moment he set her down and pulled away, keeping one arm loosely wrapped around her shoulders.

“Better go now before we don’t go at all,” he said gruffly, leading her to her car.

By the time they got to the Farmer’s Market, the majority of the stands had opened, farmers and local merchants laying out their produce and wares.

All feelings of tiredness that had begun to seep into Grace’s consciousness on the drive over - Mason had generously offered to drive “this heap of crap”, as he’d put it, seeing how she was probably in no state to operate heavy machinery - vanished as they parked and approached the town square.

She looked up and watched as Mason appeared to brace himself, jaw tight, nostrils flaring.

“Hey.” He looked down at the sound of her voice, the feel of her hand resting gently on his chest. “Are you sure about this?”

She watched as his body appeared to physically drain of tension, his hitched-up shoulders gentling slowly downwards, his jaw unclenching, fists unfurling. His eyes closed briefly and he placed his hand over the one that still lay over his heart.

“Yeah, sweetheart.” His smirk came back to his lips slowly. “Let’s buy you some fruit.”

She laughed at the intentional absurdity of his remark, feeling something akin to joy bubble up in her chest. She knew better than to chalk it up to anything but sleep deprivation-induced delirium, but whatever it was, it was a high she was planning to ride for as long as she could before the inevitable crash.

They wandered through the colourful stalls, Mason waiting patiently as Grace felt for the good peaches, smelled the baskets of strawberries, picked through for the perfect cherries. He dutifully held the baskets and burlap bags she handed to him, shooing away her concerns about the smells or the feel of the scratchy material on his skin.

It was still early for Wayhaven and they were practically the only two there, aside from the people at their stands and Haley, as always, ready with her carafe of coffee and some fresh-baked pastries for selling.

Grace gratefully filled her cup with a smile, before noticing that Haley was gesturing her forward. Leaning in, she gave her friend a quizzical look.

“You guys are good now?” she whispered, nodding over Grace’s shoulder.

Grace turned in the direction Haley had gestured, her eyes catching on Mason. He was looking intently at a collection of wind chimes a few stalls down, his hands full of the fruits and goodies she’d acquired, a long baguette sticking out of one of the bags.

Her heart swelled at the sight of him, in that sharp, needful way it always did, a pleasure-pain that reminded her of the way he’d stroked her hair earlier. So necessary, so vital, so scary, so new: all these things that she held to be true about her feelings towards him. The knowledge that she needed him, perhaps—no, certainly more than he needed her, and the fear that it was all-too fleeting. Nothing more than just a memory, already half cooked.

“Yeah,” she said softly, feeling her mouth turn upwards into a smile she knew didn’t quite reach her eyes. “He’s—we’re good.”

Haley nodded, pleased, before offering Grace a cherry danish that she refused to accept payment for. Grace took another bracing sip of hot coffee and turned back to Mason, only to find he’d disappeared.

She meandered a bit through the remaining stalls, debated the necessity of yet another vanilla sandalwood candle or birthstone necklace, and glanced up more than occasionally to see if she could spot where he’d gone or if he was going to return.

Right at the point where she was starting to worry, the weariness of her wakeful hours suddenly threatening to catch up to her in the kind of hysteria that only exhaustion could create, he appeared.

He still carried her two baskets of fruit and a large burlap reusable shopping bag with that telltale baguette and a few other things she couldn’t even remember now, but in his arms was—

In his arms, he was holding—

Okay, she was crying.

Goddamn lack of sleep, she was actually fucking crying in the middle of the Farmer’s Market.

As soon as he got close enough to see her tears, he came to a dead stop and threw his hands up in the air, weighted down as they were.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” His tone was a mix of fond exasperation and abject disbelief at the sight of Grace, coffee in hand, forgotten danish dripping cherry filling onto the ground, blubbering like a baby in the midst of all the produce and plants.

But she couldn’t help it, damn it, because he’d gotten her flowers.

Her grouchy, hundred-year-old, vampire non-boyfriend, who hated Farmer’s Markets and crowds and flowers themselves, had gone off on his own and come back with a bouquet of sunflowers, delphiniums, lilacs, and daisies and Detective Grace Bennett—

Could.

Not.

Handle.

It.

She pressed her lips together tightly, just for another sob to escape.

“Jesus Christ, Gracie.” He gently put down everything he was holding to approach her, likely exhibiting extra caution because of how incredibly unhinged she must have appeared in that moment, before bracing his hands on her shoulders. “What the hell is the matter?”

“Honestly—” Her calm, mostly unwavering tone probably leant her an even more psychotic air, as she could feel the tears continue to streak down her cheeks. “—I’m just really tired, but also I really, really love those flowers.” She hiccuped. “So much.”

His face cleared of its worry and instead he shook his head, affectionate exasperation back in his expression. “You’re nuts, you know that?” He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. She leaned into him, partly from weariness and partly because she couldn’t imagine doing anything else.

He squeezed her tightly for a moment and then, bending over, he picked up her bags and the flowers as she scrubbed her face with her hands. He made to hand her the bouquet wrapped in plastic and newspaper, but when she reached for it, he suddenly pulled it back with a tsk-ing noise.

“No more crying, got it?” He pointed the flowers at her along with his warning.

She laughed, even as she felt the telltale tingle start in her nose once more.

“Yes, no more crying. I promise,” she added, making an X over her chest with her pointer finger. “Gimme.”

He passed her the bouquet, a soft smile on his lips as he watched her bury her face in the colourful blooms and take a big inhale.

“Magical,” she sighed happily, before looking up him. She could feel her eyes fill again and his own eyes narrowed, but she just smiled and shook her head. “Thank you.”

His expression softened and he gave her a nod. “Let’s go. Get you to bed.”

She made a teasing noise, a heckling gesture that acknowledged his innuendo, but he just snorted and shook his head.

“You, sweetheart, are sleeping for the next twelve hours. I don’t care how much you beg.”

“But you love it when I beg,” she whispered, resting her chin on his shoulder, then giggled as he looked at her in surprise.

“Are you drunk?” he asked incredulously and she couldn’t help but dissolve into giggles again.

“Just delirious, I think,” she said, wiping more tears - these ones from mirth, rather than an overwhelming feeling of adoration over a thoughtful gesture from a sort-of boyfriend - from her eyes. “But yeah. We should go.”

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked, transferring her Farmer’s Market treasures to his other hand and wrapping his free arm around her shoulders so he could guide her out of the town square.

She looked up at him, this big, grouchy vampire man, so reticent to talk about his feelings and yet so quick to show her how much he cared in a million little ways: his nose subtly wrinkling from the smell of the flowers that he’d gotten for her, his tight hold on her purchases, his arm protectively around her shoulders, shielding her from the growing crowd and guiding her back to her car.

The way he kept looking down at her, eyes scanning her face for further outbursts.

The fact that he’d brought her here in the first place, simply because he knew it was something she liked.

Was she going to be okay?

“Oh yeah,” she said, laughing at his groan upon seeing tears well up in her eyes again. She shook her head to try and get her emotions in check, before standing up on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. He shot her a disgruntled look that just made her laugh even harder.

A summer morning. The sights and sounds of the Wayhaven Farmer’s Market. Mason’s arm around her. All the tiredness, the endless work, the stress - it all just disappeared in that moment and Grace could only think of one word to describe how she felt.

“I’m perfect.”

- ☀️🍓💐 -

[jobrookekarev]

I Could Have You Back With One Simple Thing

Chapter One of Two: Come Back

Words: 3092

Summary: Jo stared down at the pregnancy test in her hand. Waiting for it to develop. She had taken a lot of pregnancy tests over the years. Most of them have been negative, one of them was positive. And here she was again.

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy.

Relationship: Alex Karev/Jo Wilson, Meredith Grey/Derek Shepherd (Mentioned). 

Characters: Jo Wilson, Meredith Grey, and Alex Karev.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences, 

Additional Tags: Potential Pregnancy, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Tears, Pregnancy Tests, Reminiscing of The Past.

Read at AO3

Read at FFN

AN: For Coco ( @cicinicole-14) for causing me pain.

This is more of a thought piece for Jo, but there is some dialog and action later as Jo talks with Meredith and Alex.

……………………………………………………………………

Jo stared down at the pregnancy test in her hand. Waiting for it to develop. She had taken a lot of pregnancy tests over the years. Most of them have been negative, one of them was positive. And here she was again, separated from her husband, the baby's father, taking a pregnancy test alone and wondering if this will ruin her and bring him back. 

Last time she prayed that it was negative. She didn't know what she wanted from this one if she wanted it to be positive or negative. If it was positive, it would change everything. For better or for worse. That's what he promised. For better or for worse. Well, worse came, and he left, and although this should be the better part, it feels like the worse.

As she looked back, she felt like the right opportunity to have a baby had passed her by. The years she was with Alex would have been the best time to have a baby. She remembered the night he came home, dropped his pants, and said, “Let's make a baby, right now.” If only she had taken him up on his offer then. 

But if she thinks about it, the perfect time to have a baby would have been after she proposed. That night was so perfect, the candles, her dress, his face, everything about him. Sure it would have meant that she would have been pregnant on their wedding day, but of all the things to go wrong that day, that would have been a good memory. They would have been a family. 

She didn't know how things would have turned out. At least, maybe Alex would have stayed. Now Jo didn't know what she would do because if she had his child now, it would both break her and heal her. It would mean that Alex would have to come back. She would get him back. Even if only for a little while. Even if it was just her and her baby seeing him on the weekends. Seeing him again would break her because it would make the separation all too real. 

Sometimes she pretended that he died. That he was just gone and she never had to see him again. It made things a little easier than wondering if he would show up again one day, like a ghost walking the halls of the hospital. 

She knows that she shouldn't, but she wanted this. Never in her entire life had she wanted a pregnancy test to be positive. Even when Jo was with Alex, she was so terrified, so focused on her career, their relationship, everything else but a child. Now he was gone and she thought the possibility of a child had gone with him. Yet here she was, sitting on the bathroom floor, pregnancy test in hand, waiting to figure out if he had left her with a child too. 

She wanted it to be positive. She wanted a baby, her and Alex's baby, and she didn't want anything else. She wanted to have a child with him, even if it hurt. Even if it was going to be difficult, and complicated, and heartbreaking. She wanted this child more than anything because at least she would have him back just for a little bit. More importantly, her child would have him. Or her child would have Izzie Stevens as a stepmom. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. Alex always said that she was kind and that she baked. That would be nice for a child. Jo could learn to bake too, and to cook. She could be a soccer mom or a PTA mom. Most likely, she would be a mess of a mom, but she would be there for their child more than her mom was there for her. 

She could give them the childhood they deserved. She would do anything for their child. She could turn that little corner of the Loft into a nursery like they always talked about doing. Then she would look for a house close to Link and Meredith so that all of their kids could grow up together. She would use up all of her vacation days and make sure her child got to go to the beach, Disneyland, and all the places she never got to go to as a child. The first few years with her residency would be rough, but by the time she finished her OB residency, they would be in preschool, and she would have more time to spent with them. If she had to do it on her own, she would. She would be the best mom in the world. She could take the weekends off, and they could have little adventures around the city, just the two of them, the three of them, maybe. 

When she imagined it, Jo could see a little girl that looked like her, but had her father's devious smile and Alex’s gorgeous brown eyes. Or a little boy that would look exactly like him, and oh how she hoped they looked exactly like him. His eyes, his little crooked smile, and the way his little nose crinkle. If she couldn't have him, she would be happy to have a piece of Alex that would be hers forever, as selfish as that seemed. Even if she had to do it on her own, she could do it. 

Jo wanted to be pregnant. She wanted to have a baby, no matter what. 

She took a deep breath as she looked down at the timer on her phone. The pregnancy test only had a few more seconds left, and she counted them down, pausing the timer before it went off. Jo took another deep breath, closing her eyes, wishing, hoping, and praying before she flipped the test over.

It was negative.

So she tried again, but the next one, and the next one, and all five tests until she ran out of pee. She sat there, criss-cross on the bathroom rug staring at all five tests as all five of them came out negative. Instantly, she wasn’t nauseous anymore, she wasn’t tired or fatigued or anything. She just was. It was just her. All alone. 

She grabbed the first one again. The first response one was advertised as being the best on the market. Jo knew that they could still be false negatives, but six out of six? She had done a blood test earlier, but the lab was backed up, and a pregnancy test wasn’t urgent. She wouldn't get the results till tomorrow, so instead, she went out and bought the pregnancy tests. It was what she should have done in the first place. Now, the negative blood test would just be another penny in the bucket of her disappointment. 

Jo got up and held the test as she turned the lock on the door pulling it open and peering out into the loft. Jo was surprised to see that Meredith wasn't camped outside the door, instead, the loft was completely quiet. She walked past the little area that used to have Alex's weights but now had a little cabinet and Levi's twin bed. She walked over to her bed, their bed, reaching out for the soft comforter before she heard Meredith’s voice from the kitchen.

“I told you, Alex. I don't know.” 

“What do you mean you don't know!” Alex insisted, his voice a little distorted as it came through the phone speaker.

There's a beat of silence as she froze. Jo had been completely quiet compared to their loud conversation and Meredith had her back to her in the kitchen. She was at the sink doing the dishes that Jo had been too sick to do. The smell of the old food still turned her stomach. She supposed she just had the flu and not morning sickness.

For a moment, Jo just stared at her as Meredith scrubbed the pan. She knew that Meredith was still in contact with Alex, and she asked her to call him when she arrived after she went to take the tests. Jo wanted him to know from the very beginning, but for some reason. She didn't believe that Meredith would still call him, that Alex would pick up, that she would hear his voice on the other end of the line for the first time in months. Even before she got the letter, he felt so far away. Alex felt like he was the thousands of miles away that he was. Hearing his voice now, so close, she could feel him, almost as if his voice was ringing in her ears. His sweet voice was so close, so comforting, as it always was.

“All I know is that Jo called me, and when I showed up at the Loft, she had a box of pregnancy tests, and she said that she didn't want to take them alone,” Meredith said as she paused her scrubbing. “Alex, she was so distraught, the loft is an absolute mess, there's laundry, and dishes, and tissues everywhere. I haven't seen it this bad since, since she fell into her depression.”

Alex sighed, pausing for a second. “I should be there.”

“Yeah, you should be here. You should be the one waiting here with her instead of me, but you can’t do that because you left. I shouldn't even be telling you this,” Meredith said as she started scrubbing the pan again so aggressively that Jo thought she’d scrub the nonstick coating off.

“Then why are you telling me all this? You don't tell me a single thing about Jo, despite how I ask, and then you just call me out of the blue and tell me she might be pregnant.”

 “I don't know, because she asked me to and because you called. Look Alex, what am I supposed to say? You ran away from this and you can't just run back. ”

“I can try, I can come back, I can be in Seattle in less than 5 hours.”

“No, I don't, because I think if Jo really is pregnant, then I don't know what she's going to do, especially if you show up. I think, I think she might actually run. I wouldn’t be surprised if she did. I did the same thing when I found out I was pregnant with Ellis. You and I both know her. Despite everything, Jo’s first instinct is to run and without you to keep her here...”

“Well, you have to stop her. You just have to keep her there until I can get there.”

“I'm not going to stop her or make her do anything she doesn't want to do. Jo is her own person, and she makes her own decisions. If she wants to run away from us and take her child with her, then she has every right to.”

“It’s my child too,” Alex's voice was filled with hurt as he pleaded with Meredith. “I have every right to be there, to know them.”

“It stopped being your child and just became Jo's child the moment that you left. Alex, you left her alone and pregnant. What do you expect her to do!?” Meredith yelled, still taking out her anger on the pan.

“I don't expect her to keep my child from me!”  Alex yelled before he took a deep breath, his voice calmer when he spoke again. “Look, I know that her having you call me now is a sign that she wants me to be a part of this child's life. I'm grateful for that, I am. I want to do right by her and our baby. I don't want to hurt her anymore, but this is my child too, and I have the right to know them. I get that she's angry...” 

“Of course she's angry!”  Meredith said, cutting him off. “You left her. I'm angry too, but it's your little swimmers that got you into this situation. Look, I know you're worried, but let's not get ahead of ourselves here. Let's just wait and see what the results are before you hop on a plane and disrupt her life even further. Because I guarantee that if it's negative, she’s still going to want nothing to do with you if you show up.”

“I'm just worried, Mer. I left her to be with my kids so that I could be a full-time dad to them. I don't want to be flying back and forth from Seattle to Kansas. I don't want to be a part-time dad to all of my kids. I'm just, I'm worried. I don't know how I'm going to do this.”

As the conversation went on, Jo just stood there leaning against the post in the kitchen, holding the negative pregnancy test. Meredith finally finished the dishes and turned around, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. She caught sight of Jo standing there. Meredith paused, the phone in her hand. Jo just put the pregnancy test on the table where Meredith could see it.

“It’s negative. You can tell Alex he doesn't have anything to worry about.” 

“Jo,” Alex's voice stopped her in her tracks as he reached out to her across the phone. 

It took everything inside of her not to fall apart and not to take the phone from Meredith. Not to scream and cry and tell him how much she still loves him and hates him and wants him back. But he was gone and now nothing could bring him back. Not now.

With that, she turned around and walked away. She heard Meredith quickly hang and then everything was quiet. All of Jo's strength seemed to have disappeared as she walked over to the couch, their couch, and grabbed his throw blanket. Alex had complained about it when Jo first bought it, saying it was too girly, but eventually, he grew to love it because it was warm and soft. Sometimes he would even curl up in bed with it when she wasn't home, and he was lonely. Now, she curled up with it, instead of with him.

There were a number of things that she kept for herself, being selfish with his things before she packed away the rest and sent it all off to Kansas. She kept his old Iowa Hawkeyes t-shirts, he could always order another one, but this one was hers even before he left. His pillow, he had a new bed to sleep in and probably a new pillow too, lord knows he was away long enough to need one. His watch, he had forgotten it because it was left on his nightstand. He asked Meredith to get it for him, but Jo said she couldn't find it. And then there was his brown scrub cap, it was in his locker, and she found it when she was cleaning it out. Jo didn't wear it like Meredith wore Derek’s ferry boat scrub cap, but sometimes Jo just held it against her nose and breathed in the smell of his cologne and his shampoo. It was a little stinky from the sweat of his brow, but it was a part of the image of Alex she fell in love with, so she kept it. However, all those were just things. The smell of him would fade from his pillow, the blanket would become less soft the more she used it, the fabric of his scrub cap would rip and tear until it became just scraps, and the watch would stop working.

But a child, their child would have been a piece of him to keep forever. Living, breathing, growing, and changing into someone new, a person who would be more than either of them could have ever been. Now all of that was gone with the negative pregnancy test. Every last piece of him was gone.

“I have nothing left of him,” Jo said as she stared out the window at the crappy view of the other buildings. 

“That's not true,” Meredith said as she came to sit down next to her, but Jo didn't look at her. She just kept staring out the window, even as Meredith wrapped her arms around her shoulders and pulled her into a tight hug. “You have a lot of things left from Alex, just like I have things from Derek.”

“Yeah, including three kids that are just like him,” Jo said, trying not to let the bitterness and her voice come out like venom.

“Yes, but I also have a lifetime’s worth of memories and a heart full of love, and I know that you have the same. No matter what happens going forward, you get to keep all the love that he gave you and the best parts of Alex, and you get to keep me.”

Jo pulled back to look at Meredith. “I thought that you would. I don't know, I thought that now that Alex was gone, we wouldn't be friends anymore.”

“Yeah, well, you thought wrong because in the divorce, you got me, and I promise you, Jo, I'm not going anywhere,” Meredith said, gripping your shoulders and staring into her eyes, knowing that Jo would have a hard time believing it.

But she did believe her. Jo knew Meredith well enough to know that she wasn't going anywhere. There wasn't anything in the world that would take her away from Seattle, at least not for very long. When so many others had left, Meredith had always been there. 

Jo nodded as she looked down at her lap and placed a hand over her empty womb. “I wanted to be pregnant.”

“I know,” Meredith said, in a soft voice with a little nod.

“I didn't care if it was complicated. I would have done it with or without him and I would have been a good mom,” Jo said, the tears collecting in her eyes as she tried to keep her voice from breaking.

“I know and you would have been the best mom in the world,” Meredith said, reaching out to put her hand on Jo's cheek and wipe away the tears that had already started falling.

“I just wanted to be pregnant,” Jo said, shaking her head. 

“I know.” 

Jo finally gave in to the tears as they turned into sobs. Her wails filled the loft as she cried into Meredith’s arms as she just hugged her close. Meredith provided the comfort that Alex once did, as Jo grieved for the child that never was and never would be.

[everythinghotchniss]

Close your eyes

pairing: Aaron Hotchner & Emily Prentiss

warnings: angst? I tried okay

word count: 2238 words

Basically what if Hotch sees Emily one more time before she leaves for Paris (inspired by a piece I learnt on the piano)

Also this is my first Hotchniss fanfiction & the first fanfiction I have ever posted so... *hesitates before pressing post*

Hotch looked at his watch. He had been sitting in his car parked in front of the run down hotel for nearly two hours.

The sun was about to set now and he went over the many things he wanted to say to her, the conversation they were about to have in his head, never really finding quite the right words to say to her. He ended up deciding it was not about the words that had to be said but to see her, alive. After her funeral he had to make sure for himself that she was still living, breathing, somewhere at least.

Seeing her was the only thing on his mind when he entered the hotel.

He tentatively knocked at the door and could hear rustling behind it, a scrap as someone checked the peep hole and a small gasp. He heard her unlock the door and open it.

His first thought was that she had changed her hair. The bangs she usually wore were clipped away from her face. He quickly discarded that thought, he knew she had been in Bethesda for nearly a month. She looked tired, he decided, wearing a dark jumper that he was sure was at least two sizes too big for her and black leggings.

“Can I come in?” Hotch asked after they stared at each other for a while and she nodded slowly, opening the door for him. He looked around the room when he heard her fasten the multiple locks on the door. She wordlessly poured two glasses of scotch and gestured to the small couch.

“How did you find me?” Emily asked him and his eyes widened at the new rasp in her throat. He hadn’t heard her voice in so long, it started to feel unfamiliar, becoming a foreign melody of something he was sure he would never forget.

“JJ. She told me you were staying here until you leave.” He said quietly and she nodded, downing her drink. She poured herself another one and kept her eyes on the small table in front of her.

“Why are you here?” She asked when she found the silence between them overwhelming. There were too many words that had to be spoken even if she wanted to leave the sentences unsaid.

“I wanted to…I had to see you.” He replied running a hand over his face. “Emily, what happened in Boston…” He trailed off and she closed her eyes at the memory, Ian Doyle’s icy blue eyes once again invading her mind.

“You want to talk about him?” She asked and he sighed.

“I- I really don’t know. Why did you do it?” She nearly laughed at his question.

“Which part of it? Sleeping with an international arms dealer and terrorist or deciding to take him out by myself?”

“Either. Both.” He replied and bit she her lip.

“Why are you really here?” She asked and he looked up, trying to find her eyes at the familiarity of her question. He remembered the last time he heard those words from her, even then she could right through him.

“The last time I saw you, you flatlined in the ambulance. I didn’t want my last memory of you be you dying.” He said quietly and she swallowed.

“But I’m already dead, Hotch. Emily Prentiss died. You attended my funeral.” She stated as if it were a fact. Her voice was sure, unwavering and he did not miss how she spoke of herself in third person.

“JJ mentioned that as well?” He asked her after a moment of silence and she shook her head.

“She didn’t have to. I know how these types of things work. How is everyone?”

“You don’t want an answer to that.” He told her and she smiled sadly. She knew he would evade that question, she still had to try. They were her family after all.

“How’s Jack?”

“Well, he thinks you’re on a secret mission for the government so he can’t talk to you I couldn’t…not with the possibility of you coming back some day and not so soon after Haley died.” He emptied his glass and she refilled it with a small nod. “He actually joined one of those kids soccer teams. I’m coaching.”

“You? A soccer coach?” Her eyes lit up and he nodded.

“Well I try my best. He’s doing great at school, I still read to him every night. He says that you’re better at doing the voices. He misses having ‘his Emmy’ around.” She smiled at that.

“I miss him too. Just promise me he won’t start talking to a candle instead of me, okay? I may be dead but I don’t want to be that dead.” She saw the corners of his mouth twitch at that and she smiled at him.

“I’ll make sure of it. I’ll get him to talk to a picture of you instead.”

“I’m glad you haven’t lost your sense of humour with all of this. How are you, Aaron? And don’t give me that I’m fine bullshit, how are you really?” She asked him and he stiffened at her question.

“I’m…I wish you’d still be around. Since Foyet, you’ve always been a constant in my life, before that even. I never thought I’d have to do this without you.” He confessed and she nodded solemnly.

“Promise me you’ll find someone, yeah? Don’t let me become the reason that you start locking yourself away. I could never forgive myself.” She brushed his hand with hers softly and he interlaced their fingers, brushing his thumb over her short nails.

“Emily…” He began and she shook her head.

“No, Aaron, please. I don’t know if I’ll ever come back. Do this, for me. Say it.” She insisted and he nodded.

“Fine. I promise.” She knew he was lying, the small thing he did with his eyebrow always was a dead giveaway to her, even before they started dating. Emily decided to ignore it, put on a brave smile for his sake and leant closer to him.

“When do you have to go?” She whispered and felt his grip on her hand tighten involuntarily. She swallowed, she already knew whatever he said would be too soon.

“I wish we had longer.” He answered, the small break in his voice

“Me too. Remember the first time we met?”

Aaron had to smile at the memory. The first time he saw her she was 19, wearing a worn out leather jacket over a red skin tight dress, with a cigarette between her lips and a bottle of vodka in her hands. Her mother had ordered him to find her daughter, that she was probably hiding up on the roof again. And he found her.

“I remember. You tried very hard to convince me that The Cranberries are the best band in the world, far superior to The Beatles. And then you told me about how you used to sing in a band to piss of the ambassador and if Yale didn’t work out you would become a rockstar.” He smiled fondly at the memory and heard her laugh next to him at the naivety of her young self.

“I thought I had everything figured out back then. Funny how things change. I’ve always thought that one day I’d settle down and marry, have the 2.5 kids and own a house in the suburbs with a wrap around porch and a white picked fence.” Emily shared and he nodded.

“I know, you told me on that evening. When I observed that even though you act rebellious, all you want to do is fit in you told me that I should think about going into profiling rather than white collar. I guess you knew me better than most people, even back then.” He reminisced and she smiled, she couldn’t remember saying that.

“Pity I can’t remember much more about the evening, I was well into that bottle of vodka before you arrived.” She told him and he had to chuckle at that. He wished he didn’t remember every word she had said as if it were scorched into his mind. Over the years he had lost count of many times he had thought of the dark haired girl since then, quoting Tolstoy in its original Russian, passion lighting her eyes.

“It was a lifetime ago.” He simply replied and she nodded.

He was right. When they first met, he had just proposed to Haley and everything they talked about were wedding venues and cake tastings and honeymoon destinations. He thought he would spend his whole life with Haley, working a 9 to 5, becoming the happy family he had always wished for as a child. She was right, things had definitely changed since then.

“I can hear you thinking.” Emily said quietly, squeezing his hand that was still interlaced with hers.

“It’s not important. I’ve got something for you.” He told her and reached into his suit jacket to hand her a CD. She furrowed her brows to make out the album cover in the darkening room and she had to laugh.

“The Beatles White Album?” She asked him and he nodded.

“It’s my copy. If you ever want to think of me, chances are I’ll probably be listening to The Cranberries, thinking of you. I know how much you love the song Blackbird and the CD is small enough to take with you. I’m sure you can’t take many other personal possessions.” The truth was that Aaron was sure he didn’t even have to listen to her music to remember her. He would think of her every time he walked into the bullpen, just looking at the now empty desk. He thought of her every time he could make out the stars in the night sky, remembering how patiently she had explained some constellations and the stories behind them to Jack one evening. He thought of her only yesterday morning when he buttoned up the light blue shirt she once said suited him the best and then again only moments later when he chose the red tie to go with it.

“I can’t take this.” Emily voiced the first thought that came into her mind and he shook his head.

“Yes you can. Return it when you get back.” Hope laced through the words he just uttered, a hope that she would return before he even started to miss her. She understood what he did and again decided to let him.

“You know Em, I never got to tell how much I-“ She broke him off before he even got to finish the sentence.

“Don’t. I already know. Me too.” Emily would tell him when she got back, she thought. The three cursed words that had danced around in her mind, taunting her, these last couple of months. They were a painful reminder of the many times she whispered them to Ian, no Doyle, during her time undercover. She would tell Aaron someday. But not today.

When the sun had completely set, darkness had engulfed them both and she knew that he would have to leave soon. She pushed the thought away, leaning in closer to him, trying to remember everything she could. The way his hand felt in hers, the way she could pick out his cologne from a whole crowd. The patterns her always traced on the back of her hand, mirroring the small movement he made with his hand when he was deep in thought. She rested her head onto his shoulder and she made herself remember how well they always seemed to fit.

“I don’t want my last memory of you be you leaving.” Emily whispered into the terminating darkness hotel room.

“Close your eyes.” Aaron said quietly and she did.

She focused on the way his lips brushed hers softly, how his hand tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His hand rested for a moment too long on her jaw, taking his time to brush the tear that had fallen from eye away with his thumb. She took a deep breath when his hand left her face but decided to keep her eyes closed. He was glad she did. He never wanted her last memory of him to be him crying for her.

She decided not to hear the creak of the floorboards under his feet. She all but ignored the small gust of wind she felt on her skin as the door was opened and closed. The intensity of his cologne that had surrounded her mere seconds ago was now beginning to fade away and her eyes fluttered open.

Just like that he was gone.

And Emily Prentiss did what she always did: seal the small box in her mind labelled Aaron Hotchner.

__________________

It was silly, she thought the next day as she boarded the plane, she always thought that the next time she would fly to Paris, she would do so to show the city to him.

“Paris is a place in which we can forget ourselves, reinvent, expunge the dead weight of our past.” - Michael Simkins

[gisachi]

Surprise Me, Surprise You (Happy Shinichi Day! 05.04.20) (ShinRan. Drabble. College. Roommates.)

.

.

(Many months after the Blackout incident…)

.

He is out late again.

Going back to their apartment a little past midnight has slowly turned into a routine. School work, on top of detective work, is such a pain. The only thing he’s grateful for is the fact that he likes his major, Criminology, so damn much. Had it been otherwise, the reason for going home late for the past few days will be because of a real case of homicide, not because of a simulated midterm project geared to identify fingerprints, blood splatters, and wounds for his Forensics class.

Not that he wants more homicides to happen. Well. Real, unsolved cases make him feel alive. Not school requirements.

He shuffles for his keys and opens the front door quietly, careful not to make any unnecessary sound that might disrupt the sleep of his roommate.

Roommate slash childhood friend slash most favorite person in the world —

— Platonically. Or so he forces himself to believe.

The light in the living room is still open, much to his confusion. He walks to the light switch, only to stop short upon seeing a figure sleeping soundly by the dining table.

Ah. There she goes again.

He shrugs and approaches the woman. She looks so peaceful sleeping like a log that for a moment he debates on whether or not to wake her up or just drape her with a blanket. But whatever decision he thinks of becomes moot upon hearing a tired sigh, followed by a long, disconcerted yawn.

He almost snorts at how ridiculous she looks as she stretches her limbs while wearing that striped party hat on her head.

“Nn...Shinichi?”

“Mhm,” he pulls up a seat, eyes half lidded, his elbows on the table as one palm couches his cheek. “You fell asleep here. Again. How tired are you on a daily basis?”

She rubs her eyes, attempting to ride them off of sleepiness.

“What time is it?”

“12:25 AM.”

“Twel... EH?!”

Like a panic-stricken child, Ran stands upright, droopiness gone in an instant. She glances at her phone and her face whitens. After hurriedly sending a mail, she pulls out a match from her back pocket and lights a small candle sticking out from the center of a finely baked pie, which has surprisingly gone unnoticed in front of him.

Shinichi watches in quiet amazement as Ran lifts the pastry and brings it near his face.

“Ha-... Happy birthday, Shinichi!”

Shinichi blinks owlishly.

It’s my birthday?

“It’s your birthday, you moron!” Ran answers, like she has just read his mind.

“Oh.” He looks at the pie in front of him, then at her. “It is...Oh. Okay.”

She rolls her eyes and releases a groan. “Geez. I knew it, you forgot your birthday again!” She slides back to her chair in defeat. “You never really care for occasions like this, do you?”

He smiles apologetically.

“Well, worry not,” she places the pie on the table, “because that’s what I’m here for. To remind you!”

For a detective geek’s best friend, this girl’s pretty painstakingly persistent. He has known this since they were young, remembering the many times she’d coax him into eating, drinking, and sleeping, everytime his detective brain got the best of him. Some people would give up easily, but not her. Although her ramblings were never guaranteed to work on him all the time, she remained relentless in reminding him to do human things because he’s, you know, human, and if she won’t, no one else will.

Somehow, this trait of hers has grown on him and admittedly, he finds it kinda nice. She’s like his own personal alarm clock. When he finds himself too engrossed in unworldly interests, or lost in track for whatever reason, her smiling face will randomly pop up in his head to tell him to breathe. Rest. Take it easy. Then he’ll do it and be okay again.

That’s one of the many reasons why he considers her his most favorite person in the world.

In a platonic sense.

(Read: Not.)

“Sometimes, it’s nice to take a break and celebrate moments like this, you know?” She remarks, bringing her face to her palm. “Especially with people you love.”

She smiles at him appreciatively, and his heart flutters at that.

With people you love. Yeah.

“Now, make a wish and blow the candle!” And so he does. Ran claps her hand once the fire is extinguished, and readies to slice the pie with a knife she prepared beforehand.

Ran gives him a hefty piece and awaits his reaction on the first bite.

“So? How is it?” Her eyes glimmer in anticipation for his answer, and she gets it when he widens his eyes and licks the crumbs around his lips in interest.

“Lemon pie...” He blushes at how delicious it tastes. “My favo-”

“Your favorite! Yay, I’m really glad the taste turned out well!” She cups her cheeks in glee, marveling at her achievement. “I’ve only tried baking it once, so I’m not really confident about it.”

He forks more crumbs and eats in silence.

You should be. It’s the most delicious lemon pie I’ve ever tasted!

“I learned from Asami-senpai that you like lemon pie. You know, our former student council president? The really pretty senpai who was liked by everybody from our high school?”

I know her. No one compares to you, though.

“You might’ve forgotten about that already, Shinichi, but she baked the whole soccer club a lemon pie and you-” she snorts, “-you said it was bad! Oh my god! How dare you?”

It really was! I couldn’t lie...

“Anyway, she also told me that she confessed her feelings to you but you rejected her. Said you’ve been in love with somebody else for years…” she drifts away, shoving another bite into her mouth, chuckling passively.

“I wonder who the lucky girl is?”

...Can’t lie.

“It’s you.”

Her giggle dies down, mouth stops munching, smile instantly disappearing from her lips. Eyes widen like saucers, her face contorting to an unfathomable expression he can best associate to pure bewilderment.

“Wh...what?”

“I said it’s you,” he looks away.

He doesn’t mean to say that out loud —

“...always been you.”

— and repeat it thrice.

But oh boy, there he goes.

How does she look right now? Surprised? Confused? Betrayed? He cannot confirm. He’s afraid to look again. He doesn’t think he can.

(I love you.)

But alas, his senses betray him as his eyes instinctively flit back up, locking with hers, searching in desperation for whatever answer her beautiful eyes store.

Though words fail him (and her) at the moment, he wants to know.

He hopes ‘I love you back’ is a set of crystal eyes edging with tears that if she blinks, they’ll fall. He hopes ‘I love you back’ is a sharp, quivering inhale, unable to release an exhale, because she needs to fill her lungs with air or else she’ll pass out. He hopes ‘I love you back’ is that nervous bite on her lower lip, stopping the waterfall of words about to gush out.

(Do you love me too?)

He moves his face closer, closer to her... maybe he’ll get a clearer answer if he sees her eye to eye, nose to nose, breath to breath—

Knock! Knock! Knock!

As quick as lightning, Ran stands up from her seat, face as red as her ridiculous striped party hat.

“G-gee, I wonder wh-who’s at the door?! Haha! C-Can you open it, Shinichi?”

She stutters and he cannot help but laugh at her awkwardness. He coughs and walks his way to the door. Weirdo as always.

...

You just confessed to her on your birthday. Now who’s the more awkward one?

“SURPRISE!!”

He jolts at the sudden outburst of energy radiating from the other side. Startled to the bones, his eyes jump from one person to the other.

Kazuha-san. Hattori. Tou-san. Kaa-san. Sonoko. Kyougoku-san.

A mix of voices all echoing the same birthday greeting fills his ears, as he stands there confused as to who he shall prioritize first -- Yukiko hugging him, Heiji patting his head like he’s some disciple, Sonoko taking a picture of the sweet parent-child moment, Makoto holding a Shinichi banner with Shinichi’s big sleeping face plastered on it, Kazuha laughing at the background, or Ran admiring everything from inside their apartment.

“We hope we didn’t disturb a sacred moment,” Yusaku butts in, eyes shifting between Ran and Shinichi.

“We mailed Ran-chan and told her we’ll drop by and surprise you, Shin-chaaan!” Yukiko hugs him more tightly, earning her a wince from the birthday boy.

Entering the apartment freely, the four younger adults hang the banner a little above the pie Ran baked. Heiji and Kazuha unbox a chocolate cake they probably bought on their way to them, while Sonoko assists Makoto uncork a bottle of champagne and prepare eight glasses of wine on the table.

“To Kudo!” Hattori exclaims, as he lights the other cake on the table.

“To Kudo!” everyone shouts in unison.

He looks at the people, admiring everyone who went out of their way to pull this stupid surprise.

“This is what I actually meant when I said celebrating your birthday with people you love,” she whispers beside him, shyly.

He grins stupidly at himself, then looks at her. “And I am now, right?”

In more ways than one.

Cheeks turning crimson, she averts his gaze and looks at the wave of people now crowding over her lemon pie.

“Yes, yes you are.”

The pair looks at Yusaku and Yukiko setting their presents beside the pie; Makoto taking Sonoko’s photos as she pauses in front of their birthday surprise set up. Heiji and Kazuha bicker as to who gets the bigger slice of the pastry.

Amidst the noise, Ran finds herself staring at a full body mirror across the unit, reflecting her and him, side by side, the others blurred in the background.

“And these people you love... they love you back,” she refocuses her gaze on him. “Surely.”

She smiles so wide that it hides her eyes.

“Happy birthday, Shinichi.”

(I love you.)

“Yeah,” he smiles back. “Happy birthday to me.”

...

(I love you, too.)

.

.

[vagrantblvrd]

Strange Luck (1/1)

Summary: The problem with living in the city is that sometimes it makes getting your hands on rare ingredients for spells a goddamned ordeal.

Notes: This wasn't supposed to be a Thing, but I kept thinking about this post and it happened anyway. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(Read on AO3)

The problem with living in the city is that sometimes it makes getting your hands on rare ingredients for spells a goddamned ordeal.

Always some vital component to it that no one’s seen or even heard of for at least a generation or two, or it’s so rare it’s only known to grown in a certain climate in certain conditions.

Half the time there’s a complicated riddle or bit of prose Michael has to untangle to even figure out what those conditions are.

Pretentious as fuck about it too like, “blooming under the light of the second full moon of the month as it fights against its celestial confines in a bid to join with the Earth, shining red as blood” or some bullshit like that he has to explain to someone to see if they have it in stock.

If he’s lucky one of his contacts for that kind of thing will know a place that might carry said ingredient or know how to get it for him.

Take this little shop hidden away between a used bookstore and a trendy hipster coffee shop in what used to be a bustling strip mall. Renovated after who knows many years and shuttered businesses thanks to a changing city and economic ups and downs. The whole thing’s been turned into one of those outside malls and that’s bouncing back.

Michael goes past it almost every on his way for one job or another. He’s sure it wasn’t here a yesterday afternoon taking up space in what used to be an ice cream place, but shops like this tend to have what he needs.

There’s a bell over the door that rings when he walks in, something off about them that has him glancing upwards -

“Oh, a customer, how lovely!” someone says, pulling Michael’s attention from the bell towards the guy behind the counter.

Tall, broad-shouldered and against what Michael's used to seeing in shops like these he’s wearing a graphic print t-shirt and a hoodie. What looks like a pair of jeans and while Michael can’t see his shoes from here, he’s betting on sneakers or something similar. (Maybe.)

The counter he’s standing behind is the same one Michael remembers when he used to stop by when it was still an ice cream shop. Refrigerated glass cases and everything else, which.

It gives him pause for a moment, wondering if he stepped into the coffee shop instead, but there’s no smell of coffee or a single hipster to be found. No poor beleaguered college student bemoaning their life choices in the middle of exams or soccer mom on her phone chattering to her friend about the latest neighborhood scandal.

There is, however, a cat.

An orange tabby curled up in a cat bed at the end of the counter watching Michael curiously, little purple collar with a bell around its neck.

Something just slightly off about it in the same way the bells over the door that tells Michael he is in the right place after all.

The shelves along the walls where the booths and tables used to be are full of little glass bottles and vials filled with dried plants and flowers and things Michael tries not to think to hard about sometimes.

A skull or two that seem to be decoration and not for sale. An actual skeleton in a corner that is for sale, and the shop itself smells like Geoff’s workshop.

Candle wax and incense. The lingering scent of the potions he and Jack brew to sell. Flowers and herbs and other things hanging up to dry.

When Michael looks back at the guy behind the counter he’s smiling at Michael in this deeply unsettling manner, which is another sign he’s in the right place.

All I’ve seen things your puny mortal mind cannot hope to comprehend and foolish mortal, dealing in things you don’t yet understand, with a side of step into my parlor which is on the rarer end of the spectrum and something he only sees in the creepier shopkeepers.

So.

It’s going to be one of those days.

“Hey, uh,” Michael says, fumbling for the piece of paper with the list of ingredients and other things he needs as he walks over to the counter.

Some of them are for Gavin, the lazy bastard, and Geoff asked him to pick up some stuff to restock his stores if he got the chance. He promised to pick up a new mortar and pestle for Jack to replace the one Gavin broke last week too.

It might be smarter to go to one of his regular shops for the rest of the things he needs, but he has a busy schedule filled with clients and other errands as it is. Doesn’t feel like driving to the other end of the city on top of everything else.

“I have a few things to get, and one of them is hard to find. I saw your shop and thought maybe you could help?”

He hands the guy the paper, watches him read it and sees the slight frown as he hits the part where Michael had to stop and do some research to figure out what the hell the spell was asking him to get.

In hindsight, he should have written his shopping list on a seperate piece of paper, but he was too fucking irritated at the time to bother. (Took him a goddamned week buried in Geoff and Jack’s extensive library of spellbooks and other bullshit before he found his answer.

“Oh, wow,” the guy says, looking up at him. “That’s an incredibly rare ingredient.”

Yeah, Michael kind of figured, what with the very specific circumstances it needs to grow.

“It’s for a spell,” Michael says, decides it’s really none of the guy’s business what the spell is for, because hey.

Not to be rude?

But yeah, none of his business.

The guy hums, giving Michael this look Michael's also familiar with in places like this.

The last time situations were right for that ingredient to grow was about a year ago, and the time before that was over a hundred and fifty years. The chances of finding someone who has it or knows where Michael could find someone who does are – no pun intended – astronomical.

If this guy doesn’t have it and Michael can’t find it anywhere else, he’d have to wait at least that long before it grows again, maybe longer. (At which point Michael will be super dead and it won’t matter, so there’s that.)

“Yes, I will warn you...every item comes with a price,” he says, like all the other assholes before him Michael’s run into in shops like this.

Michael stares at him.

“...Yes,” he mimics, because he’s not in the mood for this bullshit. “I know how shops work.”

He’s not in the mood for this bullshit, but he’s also not an idiot. Knows better than to piss someone like him off, make an enemy of him or whatever. (Well, for the most part.)

The guy blinks at him like he’s not sure what’s going on, or just thinks Michael's an idiot.

He rallies quickly though, clearing his throat and looking around like there’s anyone else in the shop watching them. (Besides the cat, that is.)

“No,” he says, putting more emphasis into his words. “The price may be more than you expect to pay.”

He gives Michael this look, raised eyebrows and please tell me you’re not that dense and dear God, please don’t be that dense and a little why are you doing this to me?

Michael doesn’t know why he does it, he really doesn’t.

Maybe it’s the fact the guy seems relatively normal for someone running a shop like this. Maybe it’s the fact he’s already getting riled up and Michael hasn’t done anything yet. Maybe it’s the fact that Michael’s that much of an asshole, who can say.

“Yes,” he says. “I know how US taxes work too.”

There’s a tiny sneeze, this little jingling chime that has Michael looking over at the tabby just in time to see it hide a smirk as it gives itself a little shake.

From the corner of his eye Michael catches the shopkeeper shooting it a scowl, but when he turns back to him the guy has a polite smile on his face.

Too polite, like he’s not thinking up curses and hexes to place on Michael and everyone he holds dear or whatever else creepy bastards like him do for fun.

Michael should be worried. Shouldn’t be fucking with him at all, but he just. Can’t not, for whatever reason. Is, in fact, enjoying himself watching the poor guy try to keep his cool while his stupid cat laughs at him.

The guy laughs, and it’s. It’s a nice sound. Weird, too, kind of croaky in a way?

But just.

Nice?

Like his voice, and those eyes of his, and okay, look.

Michael’s getting sidetracked, but it’s been a long week and bound to be a long day and he’s just.

Yeah.

The guy makes this noise in the back of his throat, and plants his hands on the counter in front of him, strained smile on his face.

“I’m trying to tell you that I’m evil and offering these wares with no regard for the harm they will do!” he says, voice cracking on the end because apparently he’s never had to deal with something as exasperating as Michael's proving to be.

Probably used to people showing him the proper reverence and whatever the hell after his first warning. Rethinking their decision to set foot in a magically (literally) appearing shop with a creepy shopkeeper and a cat that is definitely not a normal cat and all that. Making the right choice (or not) when it came to their reason for walking in when they should have known better and just. All that.

Instead, he got Michael and his low tolerance for bullshit of any kind, but especially the shopkeeper’s after the week he’s had.

Michael crosses his arms and scowls at the shopkeeper.

Normally at this point he’d be sharing the guy’s exasperation, but he’s having too much fun fucking with him.

“I know what capitalism is too, goddammit,” he says. “Now do you have the stuff I need or not?”

The guy stares at him, quietly seething and for a moment Michael sees something moving around in the back of his eyes – dark, sinister – before it gives the fuck up and rolls over. Shoulders slumping as he lowers his head to stare at the faux granite counter with its scuffs and scratches, little nicks.

Mutters something that sounds less like a dread curse or something along those lines and more like for fuck’s sake.

Michael glances over at a light chiming noise to see the tabby walking over to the shopkeeper, trilling softly as it bumps its head against his face, makes these little noises that definitely isn’t laughter.

Really.

The shopkeeper leans into it at first, and then sputters as the tabby continues walking arching its back to shove its fur into his face before hopping down and wandering off.

“Thank you,” the guy says, wiping fur out of his mouth as he scowls at the cat. “Really, no. Thank you ever so much for that.”

The cat shakes itself again, and meows in smug satisfaction.

The guys sighs, and looks up at Michael.

Seems wary, almost.

“As a matter of fact, I do happen to have the things on your list. If you don’t mind waiting, I can get them out of the back.”

He looks like he’s expecting Michael to give him more grief about things, which is both hilarious and kind of sad.

“Sounds great!” Michael says with a smile, all nice and friendly and perfect customer who would never dream of being difficult.

The guy eyes him, like he thinks it’s a trap of some kind. But when Michael just stands there smiling at him and waiting patiently, he shakes his head and heads off to the back storeroom muttering to himself.

Michael waits until he’s out of sight before he laughs, tries to hide it because the tabby’s watching him, but come the fuck on.

He doesn’t know how long it will take the guy to gather all the supplies on Michael's list, so he explores the shop. Looks into the glass cases around the counter to see they’ve been altered. No tubs of ice cream now, just neatly labeled bin full of spell and potion ingredients.

One of the cases is humming quietly, stocked with ingredients that require refrigeration to keep them fresh, which goes a long way to explain why the guy decided to put his shop here instead of the other empty stores around it.

Michael goes over to the bookshelves, and almost trips over the cat who lets out a sad little noise that has Michael staring down at it.

Looks like a normal cat in all the right ways, but the way its been acting is a dead giveaway it’s most likely the shopkeeper’s familiar or assistant. Too much of an asshole to be anything else, given it’s allowed to roam the shop freely.

Another sad cry and Michael rolls his eyes as he crouches to give it pets and scritches. God knows Gavin and Lindsay would find out somehow if he didn’t, give him shit about a cruel and heartless monster.

There’s a little pet tag on its collar, and curious, Michael catches it in his fingers to see what it says. The tabby flicks its ears but allows it, and Michael frowns at the name engraved on the pet tag.

“The fuck kind of name is ‘Rimmy Tim’?” he asks, because fucking really.

The cat gives him this look, ears swiveling back as it steps out of his reach with this little sniff, tag slipping through Michael's fingers.

Walks away in clear dismissal and jumps back up on the counter to curl up in its bed and turning its back to Michael as it does.

Michael sighs, because the cat has to be the shopkeepers familiar with that kind of attitude.

He goes back to exploring the store, making a mental note to ask the others if they need some of the things he sees being sold here when he gets home. (Assuming he can find the shop again after this, that is.)

There’s a wide array of rare and hard to find ingredients and other components here. A shelf of books he knows for sure Geoff and Jack would give a lot to add to their own collection. Other bits and bobs, as Gavin would put it, any of them would give a lot to have.

It’s that thought that finally has the reality of the situation sink in for Michael, odd shopkeeper out of the picture where the atmosphere of the shop sets in.

Little tug at the core him drawing him towards a small table in a corner, gem stones and crystals and other things laid out.

A cool whisper in the back of his mind pulling his attention towards one of the skulls on the shelves by the windows.

A raven from the look of it.

Creeping unease from the corner where the skeleton stands on display, runes carved into its bones and a wreath of dried flowers resting on top of its skull.

A dozen other little things calling for his attention, quiet whispers and murmuring that builds, and builds, and builds -

“I think I have everything here,” the guy says, voice startlingly loud in the cloying silence of the shop. “Do you - “

Michael looks over at him, heart beating double-time in his chest. Feels a little wild-eyed and expects to see a smug look on the guy’s face, or cool satisfaction at the way his shop and its wares have affected Michael, but.

He seems...confused at first, and then concerned.

Sweeps a look around the shop and the chaos in Michael's mind quiets, retreats like morning fog when the sun appears to chase it away.

Michael sways towards him without conscious thought, crosses the few feet to stand across from him to escape the faint chill that set in without his realization.

“You know better,” the guy says, and for a moment Michael thinks he’s scolding him, but then he realizes the shopkeeper’s frowning at the tabby.

In response the tabby curls up tighter in its bed, ears flat against its skull and lets out a pathetic mew in apology or explanation, Michael can’t understand it. Just knows whatever it is has the guy letting out a heavy sigh.

“Yes, well,” he says, setting a box down on the counter. “What do you expect when you insist on using that ridiculous name?”

The tabby makes an annoyed noise, but it gets out of its bed and comes to the edge of the counter where Michael’s standing and looks up at him.

Guilty, remorseful, tail flicking as it meows at him in apology.

Michael stares down at it.

He could, maybe should, be annoyed at it for that slip.

There’s an understanding, when customers enter a shop like this things like that aren’t allowed to happen.

A gesture of trust, or something close enough to it for certain transactions to take place. For those who are inexperienced enough, unwary, to enter and leave without trouble. (In good faith.)

But.

Michael insulted it, and things like that allows things like it an amount of leeway. (Loopholes.)

And to be fair, nothing permanent, damaging, took place while the guy was out of the room.

Just...a reminder.

One that Michael clearly needed because he let his guard down in here. Got so caught up in things that he forgot the danger to places like this, or made the mistake of underestimating it because the guy seemed so normal.

Human.

Dramatic, maybe, but not like the usual sort Michael’s met in shops like this.

Michael looks at the guy, surprised that he seems to be on Michael’s side in this after all the shit he gave him earlier. The guy tips his head to the side, eyebrow raised and leaving things in Michael’s hands.

Which.

“It’s fine,” Michael says, because things could have gone worse.

He’s seen it before, less scrupulous shopkeepers than this one and his familiar and their deals with the unwise. Has had to clean up the mess afterward and inform the unfortunate victim’s family and friends who hired him to find out what happened to their loved one.

Michael should be the one who knew better in this case.

“Just a miscommunication.”

The guy hums, something thoughtful to it as he reaches out to the tabby and gives it a scritch under its chin. It leans in to his touch in relief, eyes closing briefly before it decides its had enough and hops off the counter to disappear into the storeroom.

Michael snorts, eyeing the box the guy brought out with him.

“Oh,” the guy says, almost sounding sheepish, “sorry about that.”

He holds Michael's list in one hand as he goes over the contents of the box.

Glass bottles with the ingredients Gavin and Geoff wanted and little paper parcels for the rest. The replacement mortar and pestle Jack wanted, and most importantly the stupidly rare ingredient he needs for his spell.

When he’s done he hands Michael his list and smiles at him.

A normal smile.

No creepy shopkeeper with his mysterious shop and even more mysterious wares. Cat familiar and all kinds of secrets waiting to be discovered, for a price.

“Were you looking for anything else today?”

He’s still smiling.

None of his dramatics or theatrics, just a guy in a t-shirt with the NASA logo behind the counter of his little shop and it’s.

It’s certainly something.

“Uh,” Michael says, clearing his throat and giving himself a mental shake to let everything settle back into place. “No. No, that should do it.”

The guy shrugs and starts ringing him up using the cash register, pauses before he hits the total and smiles again, this crooked little thing.

“We don’t take checks,” he says.

There’s.

He’s the one laughing at Michael now, gleam in his eye and very, very much an asshole.

Michael snorts as he pulls his wallet out.

“Credit card alright?” he asks.

The shops he regularly go to have started to accept them, though most still prefer cash Older ones will trade in favors, little ones that don’t cost much.

Places like this, though?

Hit or miss.

The guy laughs, and points at a sticker on the side the register with logos for the major credit card companies, so that’s one question answered.

Michael hands over his card and the guy finishes ringing him up, wishes him a nice day as he hands him back his card and a receipt and Michael picks up the box, ant turns to leave.

Gets a few feet away before he stops. Thinks about things in the kind of way where he really, really doesn't, and turns back to see the guy watching him with that crooked little smile on his face.

“Are,” Michael starts, not sure how to do this because wow, no. “Uh. Are you going to be here later?”

He glances around the shop and back to the guy, because it’s a valid question with places like this.

People like him.

They come and go and most times you never see them again. For the best, considering what they are, but sometimes...

The guy gives him an odd look, which is fair.

He probably doesn’t get questions like that all that often, and Michael doesn’t even know his name.

Has been referring to him as the guy and the shopkeeper in his head this whole time. (Maybe that asshole a time or two, he wouldn’t put it past himself.)

Michael watches as the guy – Jesus, there he goes again – takes in his shop before looking back at Michael.

“It’s possible,” he says slowly. “The location seems pleasant enough.”

Not a no, or even some frustratingly vague and cryptic answer about fleeting permanence or what the fuck ever Michael was expecting.

“Okay,” Michael says. “Great. Thank you.”

Jesus, he’s an idiot.

The guy must think so too, with the smile on his face, but thankfully he says nothing as Michael gets the hell out of there before he says or does anything else stupid.

Doesn’t risk glancing back to make sure the shop is still there once he’s outside, but he catches sight of the coffee shop sign next door to as he heads to his car.

Michael’s never been to it before, no time or reason to in between everything else going on in his life.

But…there’s this half-formed thought in the back of his mind maybe the guy wouldn’t be horrifically opposed to checking it out with him sometime if he and his shop do stick around a little longer.

...Or something, fuck if Michael knows.

Michael slams the trunk of his car harder than he means to, and stares at it for a long moment trying to untangle his thoughts.

Ridiculous, is what they are.

Stupid as hell.

Dangerous, too, considering what the guy is. (Might be? Michael doesn’t have a goddamned clue other than the usual.)

But.

He hadn’t reacted badly when Michael gave him shit, and.

He’s unfairly attractive. Has a nice smile, and an amazing voice and why not, really?

Can’t hurt to ask, right?

Later.

Michael sighs, laughing at himself as he goes around to the driver side of the car.

No need to get ahead himself right now anyway.

If the shop’s still here after he’s done with work, he can figure things out then.

Start by getting the guy’s name so he can stop calling him that in his head, and see where things go from there.

[pandemicthestory]

1: introduced

The love story of a teenage girl trapped inside during the end of the world. Daily chapters during the coronavirus pandemic. 

Neon orange nails tap at a laptop, chatting with someone across the internet. This manicure is fresh, except no one has left their house in weeks, so we know she did it herself. 

ADMIN_E: just sent your essay back. Gonna be 300 bc of the works cited 

GUEST48: oh come on 

ADMIN_E: i need the money, and you have more money than you need

GUEST48: ugh pls just tell me this is gonna get me an A in AP US history, i need this grade to get into duke 

ADMIN_E: lol, you’re actually worried about getting into college?

GUEST48: uh yeah, aren’t u?

ADMIN_E: Sweetie the world is ending. Who the fuck cares

*buzz* 

She looks away from the computer and down at her cracked iPhone 7. Another thing she’d like the cash to upgrade. The bigger issue: it’s basically impossible to scam in peace with her group chat constantly blowing up. But what are your best friends for, if not to provide human contact during an infinite quarantine? 

Madison is a self-proclaimed burnout, who used to be the carefree athletic type until a soccer injury sent her spiraling into an emo-grunge moment. Zoe is probably going to run for president and also be a doctor at the same time, unless her weird senior boyfriend convinces her to leave on a weed farm (which he would totally do, wow Gabriel sucks). And Olivia is sort of the one who keeps everyone together, obsessed with being a friend. She’s the one who religiously decorates your locker on your birthday even if you insist that it’s not necessary and that actually you’d prefer if she didn’t because it’s embarrassing. That’s Olivia.

MADISON: holy shit did u hear 

OLIVIA: I was just about to text you guys. My mom just told me. R u ok?? 

ZOE: wait what’s going on?? wtf tell me rn !! 

*knock knock*

The bedroom door opens without waiting for an answer.

“Emma?”

Emma Bradford, a skinny 16-year-old wearing an oversized hoodie and boxers, slams her laptop shut with way too much force. Hopefully it isn’t broken, she’d have to find a different way to cheat the school system for money. 

“Mom, what happened to our deal? If we’re going to be stuck at home together, you have to pretend I’m AT school. As in don’t speak to me before 3:25 PM.”

“You can’t say I didn’t knock. I knocked.” 

“It’s not about knocking, it’s about--wait why are we even having a conversation? See you at dinner. Or not. Just go please.” 

Emma jams in her air pods and pulls up her hoodie over her head so you can’t see the top of her face. She’s used to hiding her identity, and even in quarantine, old habits die hard or whatever.

Mom sighs, she doesn’t want to be here either. Out of all her kids, Emma is the truly difficult one. The smart one who uses her brain for all the wrong reasons. And wow those nails are intense. Traffic cones. Kids these days. 

“I just came to tell you that...well we just got a phone call from the school district. It looks like classes are going to be canceled for the rest of the year. Zoom classes too. Everything. I’m sorry.”

Emma’s stomach drops. Canceled? Like, wait, canceled? Canceled. But...how will she earn hundreds of dollars doing writing assignments for her fellow dumbasses?

“Seriously? How is that possible?! Don’t I need like, an education and shit?”

“Government spending is affecting everyone in strange ways right now. And wait a second, I thought you’d be happy. You always tell me how much you hate high school.”

Mom raises an eyebrow. Emma hates that. If her mom starts digging around in her personal life again, she’s going to find some weird shit. Not just forged essays, but, well, let’s just leave that all buried for now. 

“I do hate school. And I don’t care if I never go back. But I do need some boundaries, so please get out.”

Her Mom closes the door. We can’t see, but that eyebrow is definitely still raised. Something’s up with Emma. Her mom just has no idea of what it is, or how big it’s about to get.

Emma examines the group chat, having missed over 80 texts since she last checked it five minutes ago. 

EMMA: i don’t have time to read all that but, school, right?

ZOE: How can this happen? I already have a prom dress and it was final sale!!

MADISON: u don’t HAVE to go to prom this year zo- when gabriel goes to school next year u guys will prob break up anyway and then you’ll be free to go to like 10 more proms w guys who haven’t been arrested

ZOE: He was not actually arrested and we are doing long distance we already discussed it! 

MADISON: you don’t think they’ll cancel prom do you? if i have to do prom over zoom i’m legit done 

EMMA: So, prom is what you’re all worried about?

A brief pause. 

OLIVIA: Well what are you worried about Em? Or aren’t you

EMMA: Oh well idk. I mean i’m not that worried

EMMA: I just mean like it could be worse

As soon as Emma sends this, she doesn’t know if she actually believes it. She doesn’t know what’s coming. 

ZOE: Sure, I guess...

MADISON: UR BEING RLY WEIRD EM 

EMMA: Ah you’re right sorry, it’s just a weird time. I love u guys btw 

Everyone sends their signature heart emoji. Zoe: pink with sparkles. Olivia: yellow. Madison: small red with red dot underneath. And Emma sends the black heart, because she really needs to start acting like her normal self as people are getting suspicious. Her best friends know almost everything about her. Almost. They don’t know about what she’s doing on the side, or what she plans to do with the money. 

Emma takes a deep breath and reopens the laptop. No school is going to be a problem. No school, no assignments, no college applications, which means: no income. And no income means no leaving...no running off with...him. 

Him, the eternal problem. Him who won’t get out of her head no matter how much she curses the day he was born. Him from that other school that’s annoyingly far yet still too close for her own good. Him who knows her favorite candle scent. Him who rests his hand in the space between her hip bone and her belly button. Him who lied. Him who was forgiven. 

Him. 

She stares at the interface of her ghostwriter page on the screen. This was good while it lasted. She’ll just need a new plan to get to Him. 

Emma is about to shut the computer when: 

*Ping* 

New Assignment.

What? Every student at Harrison Ford High School got the same announcement today that she did. School’s canceled. No more class, no more losing sleep over getting into Duke. What a random life goal. 

Seriously, what the hell could this be?

Emma clicks the link to open the new assignment, to learn that it isn’t a new assignment at all. It’s a drawing?  

Circular lines, deflated shapes encircling each other. Like oil in water. The picture could almost be, well it looks somewhat like...a map. Holy shit, this is a map.

The lines of the map are messy and hand drawn. As if someone made this in a rush. Or maybe they were confused about where the path leads. But underneath the twists and turns, there’s a note: 

before you run away, come find me

[softstraykids]

lee minho|fuckboy au

⋆ ──────── ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ──────── ⋆

member: lee minho/lee know genre: fluffy & flirty summary: fuckboy au! best friend’s brother au! you were the one girl that minho could never get his hands on. and for good reason chan would kill him if he ever touched you but why would your heart not stop fluttering when he gave you that cocky and infuriating but completely heart melting smirk requested: nope but it’s minho’s birthday!! 

⋆ ──────── ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ──────── ⋆

minho was bad news for your heart

he was your high school’s residential fuckboy

and for good reason too

the boy had it all

he was gorgeous

to the point he could easily be a model

he had 8 best friends which stuck with him through everything

who all are of course gorgeous and constantly sought out by the student population

you still didn’t understand how good looking people all hang out together

do they just gravitate to each other?

anyways minho wasn’t just a pretty boy

he mostly got A’s on his reports

he was captain of the dance team

and vice captain of the soccer team

which meant crowds of girls would swarm the soccer pitch in summer in the blistering heat

to catch minho shirtless who always took his shirt off in summer  

he loved showing off

you always thought they were crazy like

air conditioning and ice cream over hot boys any day

chan the team captain and minho’s best friend would always get pissed off

he’d just shout across the field to minho

“KEEP YOUR DICK IN YOUR PANTS FOR AT LEAST BLOODY PRACTICE”

minho would just laugh and mock salute him

while chan would sigh and shake his head wondering why the hell he picked him as his vice

but none of the girls could interrupt dance practice

well more like they couldn’t get into the room

minho made sure it was keypad locked

since when girls could come in it was so loud because of all the cheering and screaming and no one could hear anything

plus jeongin always teased minho that the reason he keypad locked it was that there were more girls there for felix and hyunjin than him

you always thought the little devil had a point

but even with all this going on minho had time to do all his fuckboy ways

his snapchat CONSTANTLY spammed by god knows what sort of pictures

hookups at parties were a regular for him

the thing is minho didn’t even have to try

he would literally just look at a girl and do his signature smirk

and girls then just threw themselves at him

once he was done with them they’d usually cry or be upset

bad mouth him that he’s a fuckboy

but if he ever asked to simply just meet them again they’d go crawling back to him offering him everything

it was quite pathetic actually

though in the sea of all those desperate girls

there was you

someone he could actually talk to

someone he couldn’t help but want to know more about

someone who didn’t have to be a one night fling

but you were someone who was completely and utterly off limits

you were chan’s little sister

minho’s known you for years and you guys were close

though he never saw you more than a little sister

but that all ended a few months ago

minho and chan were in the living room playing video games

while you came from upstairs to get some cereal to snack on

you rummaged around your kitchen but you couldn’t find any of your goddamned favourite cereal

“CHAN WHERE’S MY CEREAL??” you shout

chan pauses the game then looks at minho

who looks like a deer in headlights with his mouth stuffed with your favourite cereal

chan starts laughing so hard

while minho keeps on hitting him to be quiet and putting his finger to his lips to tell him to shut up

you enter the room to see the back of minho but you could see YOUR cereal box on the coffee table

chan laughs harder as you enter the room

he looks between the cereal box, minho’s panicked expression and your murderous one

“you’re so dead minho” chan says comfortingly patting his shoulder

then escaping to his room

it was almost comedic the way minho turned around to you with wide eyes

you could see his adam apple bop up and down

“LEE MINHO WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY??!!! NOT TO EAT MY BLOODY CEREAL THIS IS THE FIFTH TIME THIS MONTH” you scream lunging at him

you quickly grab a pillow from the couch and start hitting him as hard as you can

not like it did anything good it was a bloody pillow

didn’t mean minho wasn’t over dramatic and kept on shouting

“OW OW OW CAN YOU STOP??!!”

you finally did once you felt your anger go down to a simmer

“wow someone’s on her period” minho muttered quietly under his breath

but you heard it

“lee fucking minho what did you just say” you whisper your voice dangerously low

pillow in one hand pointing at him like a sword

with your eyes narrowed at him

minho plastered on a fake smile and an innocent expression

“what me? i only said that how you’re the most beautiful and sweetest person to exist on this planet” he says sweetly shrugging his shoulders

“uh huh sure” you say rolling your eyes

you snatch your nearly empty cereal box and give minho one last glare before stalking off

just before you were about to leave the living room

minho called out “wait is that my t shirt?”

you spin around already eating your cereal

“well i stole it from chan thinking it was his but yeah it could be yours” you say like it’s no big deal

while minho was kinda just struck by some sort of feeling

you leaning against the wall

eating his favourite cereal out of the box

bare faced hair all messy from your pillow fight from earlier

in HIS t shirt which went a bit above mid thigh on you

you looked gorgeous

how did he not notice it sooner?

he always knew you were considered attractive

but like it never really clicked that you were ATTRACTIVE

smh dumbass

though he knew your personality was great

you occasionally hang out with the whole gang

you were funny and nice and had no problem talking back to any of the guys

you got along with everyone and amused all the guys with your witty comebacks

you also took care of the maknae line in the group and changbin

even though you were the same age changbin

but he acted younger than jeongin half the time

basically jeongin’s a freshman 00 line are sophomores changbin and you are juniors and the three hyungs are seniors

but he never realised how gorgeous you were

until now

“you look good” minho smoothly says his back turned to you

you thought you were hearing things

minho complimenting you??? has the world ended??

“wait what?” you couldn’t help but blurt out

he turned his head but not fully just enough so you could see his side glance at you  

“i said you look good in my t shirt” he ends with signature heart melting smirk

and that’s exactly what it did

melt you into a gooey puddle

not knowing how to respond

you shoved as much cereal as you could in your mouth making you look like a chipmunk

and just nodded then hurried off to your room

face beet red and heart beating a million miles a minute

minho couldn’t help but chuckle

gosh you were cute

in the next few months

minho flirted with you

a lot

and you were not having it

well you loved it but you hated it

GNSKSIFJ why was this boy doing this to you it’s like he liked torturing you

well he probably did

everytime he saw you he would give you a tight hug which made you never want to leave his arms

and he did that with every single hello and goodbye

that you could deal with

and you could also kinda deal with minho trying to hold your hand at any chance

“y/n you are actually slower than a snail hurry up!” he complains

then he swiftly grabs your hand intertwines your fingers

sO QUICKLY you can’t even process it

“yes daddy long legs” you huff out

minho’s smirk was more prominent than ever as he suddenly stopped

then brought you so close you actually squeaked

making his smirk even more cocky if that was even possible

he whispered so close in your ear that you could feel his breath on your neck

making you shiver and get tingles down your spine

“already calling me daddy huh?” he whispered his words literally dripping in innuendo and cockiness

his laugh which accompanied the comment sounded so pure and innocent compared to what he just said

i absolutely love minho’s laugh

It broke you out of your shock with your mouth wide open

he was already running down the corridor

as you shout to him

“Y-YOU LEE MINHO YOU GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW SO I CAN DROWN YOU IN HOLY WATER”

me whenever he dances or acts sexy

these sort of incidents were a regular

and you couldn’t help it anytime he was near you

your heart sped up

but there were times without the constant flirty banter

and you loved it  

and that was when you really couldn’t deal with your feelings for minho

like when you went to get your favourite cereal in minho’s car

you guys got like 20 boxes and still finished it in a week

or when you two went on like a 2 hour car ride at 1am

and you guys were singing along to all the cringey 2000 songs so loudly the whole time

or getting drive thru junk food at 4am in the morning

you two got really close 

and you were falling for minho

but you were nearly a hundred percent sure he didn’t see you that way

you couldn’t of been more wrong

minho was going actually crazy cause of you

you were on his mind 25/8 if that was even possible

he knew he was falling for you and it frustrated him to no end

the LEE MINHO was falling for someone

and no matter what he did

all his tips and tricks

even with just blatant constant flirting 

you didn’t seem anywhere as deep as him and completely oblivious to his feelings 

not only was he falling for someone who seems completely disinterested in him 

then there was also chan

how the hell are you supposed to tell your best friend

you’re in love with their little sister and to give his fuckboy best friend a chance with her

minho couldn’t even get over you

he tried

so so many times

it was pathetic how many times

no girl could hold a candle to you

he literally cut off contact with any girl who wanted to talk to him in a romantic way

it just pissed him off

as cheesy and cliche as it sounds he didn’t want any other girl than you

everytime he saw you

he couldn’t help but smile and when he wrapped his arms around you he just wanted to hold you there forever

whenever he made you smiled it was the best feeling than anything else

gosh he was so in love with you

he was so wrapped up in his own world with you only on his mind

minho didn’t even realise he made a full choreography inspired by you

until felix and hyunjin mentioned it

they were at the dance studio 10 minutes early to dance practice 

and they watched minho dance to the choreography inspired by you 

just as minho finished 

“WOAHHHH HYUNG that was actually really good you should perform it in the showcase this weekend!” felix exclaimed

minho quickly shook his head and quickly said 

“no no no this is something i just came up with and it’s not really not that great”

“hyung what are you talking about?! honestly that’s the best solo choreography i’ve seen from you EVER” hyunjin said incredulously

minho looked between felix’s awed expression and hyunjin’s confused one 

he sighed “i just can’t perform this choreography i didn’t even realise i was making it until you guys told me” 

“why can’t you perform it?” hyunjin asks curiously 

“i just can’t” minho says not looking at the two boys not wanting to admit his crush for you 

“it’s cause of y/n” seungmin casually said walking into the practice room sipping his tea

i need a seungmin in my life

minho's brain literally stops working as seungmin says that 

“y/n? what do you mean y/n?” hyunjin asks completely confused 

“what does y/n have to do with anything with his choreography?” felix continues just as confused as hyunjin 

jisung walks in next well more like bouncing in as he announces loudly “minho’s in love” then sits next to seungmin 

minho’s brain kicks back into gear making him regret all his life choices 

“i fucking knew i shouldn’t of asked those two come to watch and give feedback” minho mutters under his breath sliding down the wall

“minho in love with wh-HOLY SHIT MINHO HYUNG’S IN LOVE WITH Y/N???!!!!” felix ends by shouting 

“what the actual fuck??” hyunjin slowly says still trying to process it 

“i can’t believe you idiots didn’t realise yet” laughs woojin as he enters with jeongin and changbin

“even jisung realised and it’s JISUNG” jeongin cheekily added 

“HEY I’M YOUR HYUNG REMEMBER!” protested jisung

“dumbasses” changbin says affectionately putting an arm around felix and hyunjin

most complicated love triangle ever

minho lifting his head out of his hands looked at the boys who entered

“was it that obvious?” he said like he was in pain

then chan walks in and minho heart plummets as chan smirks at him and amusedly says 

“very”

“u-uh c-chan i-” minho tries to start

chan laughs “minho’s it’s okay i’m not mad i’ve seen this coming for months"

“i just couldn’t help myself i’m sorry chan” minho sighs out leaning the back of his head against the wall

“oh stop being so dramatic i don’t hate you and weirdly i don’t disapprove of you and y/n being together” chan says lightly 

“w-wait what?” minho questions 

“has the lack of sleep finally gotten to your head” seungmin adds

“seungmin” scolds woojin

“yes yes i know unnecessary snarky comments don’t need to be said” seungmin huffs out

“have you not realised how much you’ve changed in the last few months?” chan asks minho like he’s an idiot

while minho just shakes his head 

“well to start off you don't take your shirt off constantly anymore” chan begins quite happy about the decreasing number of fan girls 

then all the members start contributing

“the biggest one for me was blocking all your trashy hoes on snapchat” changbin comments

“you haven’t hooked up with anyone recently either” jisung adds

“not even making out” hyunjin says dubious to the words coming out of his words

“you’ve stopped flirting with anything on two legs” seungmin drawls on

“i was not that bad!” minho protests

“YES YOU WERE!!” chorused all the guys 

“also you CONSTANTLY want y/n to hang out with us” felix says amused

“and you always stare at nuna like non stop” jeongin honestly adds

“the dead giveaway to me was you smiled like actually beamed of happiness whenever she even walked into a room” woojin ends on a romantic note 

“it doesn’t matter though she doesn’t even see me that way” minho says shaking his head

all the boys burst out laughing

“remind me how the hell did you get so many girls” changbin says smirking

“he’s probably lost his touch” jeongin adds sneakily 

“she likes you too dumbass it’s clear as day” chan says still laughing a little patting minho’s shoulder

“w-wAIT REALLY?!” minho bounces up and stands up excitedly 

“yes minho she really does” woojin assures him smiling 

“NOW will you perform the choreography and even dedicate it to y/n?” felix suggests

“yeah i will” minho says with his usual confidence looking forward to the showcase

all the boys bust their ass to help minho confess to you 

minho’s choreography wasn’t actually to a specific song

so the 3racha boys offered to make a song for the choreography

chan produced while jisung and changbin worked on the lyrics with minho

chan claimed he didn’t want to do anything to do with the lyrics not wanting to know about your private romantic life 

felix and hyunjin helped clean the dance and filled in for minho as dance teacher for the other groups performing 

seungmin, jeongin and woojin trained minho to sing really well for the track

just pretend minho can’t sing in this au or hasn’t tried to 

it was all ready for the showcase 

*showcase time*

you were loving the dance showcase 

you had front and center seat and you had some of the other guys sitting near to you including chan right next you 

minho was brilliant like he always was 

you couldn’t keep your eyes off him and you were so excited for his solo

felix, hyunjin and minho just finished their dance as a trio 

it was amazing they literally took your breath away 

like their technique and control over their bodies were ridiculous 

you hear jisung’s voice through the speakers as he was the mc for the showcase 

“hey everyone I hope you’ve been enjoying the night so far, this is actually our last stage for the night and it’s minho’s solo which everyone seems to be looking forward to!! so let’s welcome the man himself. give it up for miNHOOOOOO”

cheers erupted as minho walked on stage smiling, waving and blowing kisses 

you couldn’t help but laugh and roll your eyes

“thanks everyone for coming!! this is a really special performance for me, the song was produced and written by 3racha” cheers erupted once again at the mention of 3racha you could see changbin smirking from the corner of your eye

“i contributed to the lyrics though and woojin, seungmin and jeongin helped me sing and record the song too while my dance buddies who just got off stage felix and hyunjin helped with the choreograpy too”

he paused as people watching were cheering, all 8 boys were extremely popular and including minho were known as the kings of the school

“so this special performance is actually dedicated to someone” minho continues shyly?

wait minho was acting shy??

your heart plummeted as you thought he was dedicating the performance to some random girl 

you started to drown in your thoughts

but then suddenly minho looked straight at you and your heart almost completely stopped as he did 

with an almost nervous but still sweet smile he said

“this one’s for you y/n” 

you could of died right then and there and would of been so happy 

your thoughts were going over drive 

is this minho confessing to you?

does this mean he likes you?

what about chan?

just as if chan was reading your mind

chan whispered into your ear soothingly while squeezing your hand lightly

“y/n it’s okay i approve”

it felt like the weight of the world was lifted off your shoulder and you couldn’t help but beam at him as the lights dimmed 

except for the lights on minho

he started to dance to the music 

his voice was gorgeous much better than when he was screaming at the top of his lungs singing “APPLE BOTTOM JEANS BOOTS WITH THE FUR” at 3am

the lyrics and his beautiful dance moves went perfectly together but they also literally told the story of the two of you 

from you only being his best friend’s little sister 

to the one who wore his t shirts and got mad when he ate your cereal

to a girl who he wanted to get to know more

then to a girl who was like his best friend who he flirted with

finally to being the only girl he’s ever been in love with 

just hearing the story of the two of you and the fact your brother approved of you and even helped produced the song

emotions overwhelmed you and you couldn’t help but cry just as the dance ended

you were completely frozen but chan gave you a small amused smile and pushed you towards the stage 

and that’s all it took

you sprinted up there as fast as you could 

just as the lights turned on everyone saw you sprinting into minho’s arms

then he let out the most heart warming laugh as he spun your around into his arms 

as you clung onto him like he was your life line crying into his shoulder while laughing at the same time

everyone was cheering and wolf whistling 

he put you down gently 

and carefully tucked your hair behind your ear and tried to wipe your tears

“hey you okay?” minho says with an amused but soft smile

you just nod trying to stop crying but failing miserably

thank the lord you didn’t wear mascara 

he laughs sweetly at you 

“oh come on stop crying you look ugly when you cry” he says jokingly

“HEY!” you protest hitting him on the arm

“nah you’re always pretty” he says giving you a wink

“lee minho STOP FLIRTING WITH ME” you indignantly say 

“why? isn’t your boyfriend supposed to flirt with you?” he says smirking wigging his eyebrows

“i-i y-you m-my b-boyfriend?” you splutter out trying to process what he said 

he rolls his eyes but secretly he loves every moment of this

“yes idiot do i have to make it any clearer to you?” 

you’re just frozen still trying to process what the actual fuck was happening

“i guess i have to” minho says leaning forward smirking just before kissing you

and suddenly

minho’s lips was on yours

and you just completely melted into him

every crevice of your body perfectly fit with his

his arms were snug around your waist bringing you as close to him as physically possible

one of your hands was on the back of his neck bringing his lips closer to yours

while the other hand was lightly grabbing his hair messing it up 

fireworks, sparks, butterflies 

you felt all of it

the kiss was hot, passionate, sweet and steamy

kissing minho felt like the most natural thing to do in the world 

you just couldn’t get enough of him

but both of you finally parted remembering you both needed to actually breathe

foreheads together still hugging with heavy breathing and wide grins 

you could hear several of the guys commenting from the front row amongst the even louder cheers and applause

“EWWWWWWWWWWWWW” jeongin says squirming 

“GET A ROOM” chan shouts

“disgusting” seungmin shouts rolling his eyes

“wow i’m jealous minho will you be my boyfriend” jisung jokingly not says

you two barely even noticed what was happening 

you were so wrapped up in your own little bubble just the two of you 

“took you long enough boyfriend” you teased smiling 

“i know i was worth the wait princess” minho cockily says finishing his sentence with his signature smirk and another heart melting kiss 

⋆ ──────── ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ──────── ⋆

my gif take with creds!!

finally back with a scenario!! I have so many wips and requests I just needed to take a break from them and just let myself write. the result this fuckboy au!! i hope you enjoyed all the flirting, banter, and humor (these sort of scenarios are my fav to write). also requests are always open!! (this doesn’t mean i’ll 100% do it i might turn down your idea or write it!!)

as always don’t be afraid to leave me a message, a request or an anon!!! i always love hearing from you guys and getting your thoughts, feelings and feedback!!

 ⋆ ──────── ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ──────── ⋆

+ happy birthday minho!! i love you a lot bundle boy, your smirk always makes my heart melt, your laugh always makes me smile and i love your personality so so much. from your playful, savage, funny, affectionate, caring nature towards the members to your hard working, dedicated and professional attitude towards being an idol. but most of all i always love seeing you dance and being happy.

⋆ ──────── ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ──────── ⋆

[scgdoeswhat]

Soccer Saturday

Summary: The entire Endless Summer gang head over to Jake, Cris, and Diego’s place to take in some World Cup action. (Jake x F!MC, Grace x Aleister, Craig x Zahra)

Rating: PG

Words: 1759

Author’s Notes: Drabble turned fic for @mechaspirit and the “Who sits on the other’s lap” OTP prompt! Thanks to Elena for giving me the idea for a World Cup viewing party! Since this is as close to real time as I’m getting, I’m sticking this in the Wonderful AU and making it one of the first in chronological order. Jake and the gang don’t belong to me (unfortunately), but the story does. No Beta used.

Also tagging @xo-endlessmayhem-xo, @itsagoodluckkiss and @princesstopgun because I’ve barraged them the last two weeks with footballers, ha.

  June 30, 2018

The sound of boisterous laughter carried throughout the condominium as Cris listened in from the kitchen. A few months had passed since the entire crew were able to be together and by some stroke of luck, everyone was congregated in her, Jake, and Diego’s place just as she planned.

Everyone had been so busy lately. Between finals, making up the lost semester, and (most importantly to her) clearing Jake’s name, it had been the first time where the 12 of them could all hang out and relax with nothing looming over their heads. The timing couldn’t be more perfect, as this coincided with the World Cup – an event that she always associated with bringing those who were close to her all together.

To her knowledge, no one else except Aleister followed soccer – né football – like she did, but no one would turn down a reason to drink and party at 10 a.m. on a Saturday morning, either.

“Hey Princess! Where ya at? You’re missing all the action!” Jake hollered from the living room.

“I’m coming! Just bringing more beer and another bottle of champagne for the mimosas!” She replied, walking back and setting all the drinks on the coffee table. Looking up at the giant flat screen on the wall, she noticed the score line at 0-0. “What are you talking about? I didn’t miss anything; it’s still scoreless.”

Jake pulled her down onto the couch between him and Michelle, laughing as she yelped in surprise.

“I’m not talking about that, I’m talking about these two!” He pointed to a chortling Sean, who was busy lobbing mini croquettes and other small snacks into the mouth of an awaiting Craig.

“Dudes! Appreciate those a little more! I made them this morning!” Raj exclaimed as he watched the delicious projectiles sail through the air to their intended target.

Craig chewed and swallowed the tasty morsel. “Sorry, man! But just to let you know, they are insanely good.”

Zahra shook her head, waving her boyfriend off. “As if I didn’t see Raj opening the box and sticking these things straight into the oven earlier!” She reached out and plucked an incoming croquette from Sean out of the air before popping it into her mouth.

Raj put an offended hand over his chest. “Z – are you implying I didn’t make these?! I’m hurt!”

“Damn straight, I am,” she grinned. “Especially since Craig and I knew you were up late sampling your new stash of… let’s call it, ‘medication.’”

“Hey, at least it’s all legal now. And I do need it for medicinal purposes! Anyway, since you found me out, everyone want me to make more of them?”

A resounding chorus of “Yeahs” rang out amid laughter as Raj rose and headed towards the kitchen.

“Aww, well now what else is there for Sean to throw at me?”

The quarterback looked around, spying a giant bowl of chicharron.

“Don’t even think about it, pretty boy.” Estela’s hands appeared out of nowhere, making sure the bowl of fried pork rinds was out of his lengthy reach.

Jake chuckled as he grabbed a handful as Estela walked by, heading back to the table where she rejoined Quinn, Grace, and Aleister. He fed Cris a small piece and she surveyed the scene in front of her with a smile on her face.

At that moment, Diego came out of his bedroom and automatically zeroed in on Sean and Craig, who had resorted to tossing pretzels at each other.

“Guys, I swear, you better not be making a mess! I’m going to be the one stuck cleaning it up, knowing these two!” He pointed at his two flatmates.

“Hey, what do you mean? We clean up!” Cris exclaimed.

“Yeah sure, when you two aren’t all over each other!” Quinn chimed in, throwing a wadded-up napkin at the couple.

“Oh, leave them be,” Grace interjected, smiling at Aleister. “I think it’s really cute they’re finally able to just be normal, especially after clearing Jake’s name.”

“I don’t know if ‘cute’ would be the word I would use, my dear,” the Englishman scoffed, crossing his arms. “You wouldn’t be using it either had you witnessed what I walked in on that day.”

Everyone started howling in amusement as Cris buried her face into Jake’s shoulder, while projectiles ranging from rolled up napkins to sweet and savory edibles were thrown their way.

Jake smirked, lapping up the attention. “Hey, don’t hate because my ridiculously hot wife can’t keep her hands off my – “

“OH. KAY. DOODLEJUMPS. GOT MORE CROQUETTES HERE. NO NEED TO ELABORATE, DUDE!”

“The thing is, that shit is tame compared to what usually comes out of his mouth!” Diego shook his head as the whole room doubled over cackling as Raj reentered the room.

At the table, Grace leaned over, whispering into Aleister’s ear, “But can you really blame them? How many times were we almost caught the same way you walked in on them?”

Aleister’s face turned red at his girlfriend’s words, all while she shot him an innocent smile with her hand on his leg.

On the other side of the room, Zahra busied herself making drinks that barely passed for mimosas, with minimal orange juice being used. “You know, I was skeptical about coming over so early for some soccer match, even under the guise of acceptable drinking before breakfast but now that it’s turned into a roast? So worth it.”

Sean turned his attention to the screen, remembering there was a match on. “So, we’re watching France versus Argentina? Isn’t that Messi guy on Argentina?”

“Yeah, he’s on there. Plays his club soccer at Barcelona. He might be getting older, but his footwork is still great,” Craig answered nonchalantly, garnering stared from the entire group. “What? Just because I play football means I can’t appreciate the world’s football? There’s a reason why they call it ‘The Beautiful Game,’ man.”

“I’m more or a Ronaldo girl,” Quinn interrupted, smiling widely. “And Portugal are playing after this, so I hope everyone’s staying for that one, too!”

Estela scoffed as she waved her hand dismissively. “You can have your Messi and Ronaldo. I’ll take James Rodriguez. He’s still underrated. Too bad he’s injured because he’s so talented.”

Michelle had her phone out, googling the players being mentioned and nodded unconvincingly at the pictures she was pulling up.

“I don’t know, I can’t really pinpoint the change, but Ronaldo used to look better before – “ she looked up at the screen, the camera focusing on a player in a solid blue kit, his brown hair slicked back, blue eyes sparkling while his tongue was currently sticking out. “Who is THAT? Oh my God, I’m not even into facial hair on guys, but that guy is HOT.”

Aleister looked at the television and rolled his eyes. “Olivier Giroud? He’s French and he recently transferred to my club from Arsenal.”

“He had me at ‘French,’” Michelle giggled as she started googling photos of him.

“I don’t really like soccer,” Jake said to no one in particular. “They fall over if someone breathes on them.” The referee’s whistle rang through the TV’s speakers, and as if on cue, a replay of a player who wasn’t touched but had fallen to the ground was shown in slow motion. “See? My point exactly.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Sean added, “these guys are totally athletic, but I don’t think they could handle the physicality of football.”

Diego snickered, as if he was holding a secret. “You’re unusually quiet about this, Cris. I know you have an opinion on this.”

Cris threw her head back, chuckling. “I totally watch soccer, but since the Azzurri didn’t qualify, I’m not emotionally invested in anyone this time.” A feline grin graced her face. “I’m just observing. Observing and admiring all this wonderful ‘talent’ on display. And yes, Giroud is very... talented.”

Michelle gasped and started giggling uncontrollably. “Cris. Look at THIS.” She shoved her phone in her friend’s face, a giddy energy rolling off her.

Cris screeched at the screen as both girls shot up off the couch and bounced over to the table, proceeding to show the animated gif to Quinn. The redhead squealed in delight, which prompted Zahra to come over.

“Nice find, Meech,” Zahra smiled slyly.

Grace’s eyes grew to the eyes of saucers as she sat back down next to Aleister, who gave her a questioning look.

“Trust me, you don’t want to know. You’ll never look at him the same way again.”

He nodded, completely trusting her judgment.

All the while, Estela sat in her seat cracking up. “You know, he’s not really my type. But I do enjoy a good piece of meat once in a while.”

Michelle looked at the TV, down at her phone, then back to the TV. “Well, now I know who I’m rooting for!”

Cris tilted her head while looking at the phone, grinning. “Damn, if I didn’t have my roots, he’d almost make me switch loyalties. This, “ she pointed at the small screen, “This is very pleasant to look at. Let me just say. Wow!”

“You know, it’s not like I’m sitting right here or anything.” Jake pouted, crossing his arms.

She turned around and looked at her moping husband.

“Awww, baby, you know you’re the only one for me. Olivier Giroud can’t even hold a candle to you.” She walked over to the couch and sat on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck as she gave him a quick peck on the cheek. One of Jake’s arms encircled her waist, holding her close to his body.

“Never mind the fact that he’s a rich soccer player, with brown hair and blue eyes, a.k.a. totally her type, and not to mention smoking hot!” Diego said loudly, chiding his best friend’s man while taking a seat on the couch.

“Diego, you’re not helping, you ass!” Jake retorted, flicking him off behind her back.

Cris cuddled up to Jake and hid her smile in the crook of his neck. She murmured, loud enough for only him to hear, “Don’t worry, Top Gun. You know you’ve got the only balls I’m interested in playing with.”

“OH GOD. I HEARD THAT. Why did I decide to sit here? I am scarred for life!” Diego shrieked while the room erupted into laughter.

The day continued full of merriment as the gang reveled in each other’s company. France went on to beat Argentina that day 4-3, but the memories made on that Saturday morning were once in a lifetime.

[moonnfairie]

Proximity

Real Life!AU - Chapter 6

Author: softmochijm

Pairing: Reader x Jungkook (Main), Reader x Yoongi

Word Count: 2,179

A/N: Hello lovelies! So I removed “Enemies to Lovers!AU” because in the course of this story, I didn’t really see it fit. Regardless, this series continues!! I do apologize that it’s been a while, but I’ve been gone traveling and just recently had inspiration to continue. I hope you enjoy~

Your life seemed to have flashed before your eyes at the sound of the angry man’s call...

but your shoulders fell in relief as you turned around to see a waddling drunk Taehyung approaching, Jimin trying, but failing, to keep up from behind him.

“So you’re just going to leave me hanging on my own birthday, huh?” he asks while slurring his words, and you just look to Jungkook and laugh.

“Aw Tae, I’m sorry we just... got carried away, I guess” you say as you approach Taehyung for a hug, and he falls into your arms, mostly to keep himself from falling over completely.

“N-nah it’s f-fine... I’m wasted anyways... please take me home Y/N.”

You all laugh together as you link arms to head to the streets to call an uber.

You discovered that Yoongi and Jin ended up leaving too, thanks to Yoongi’s text:

Fr: Yoongi♡  Sorry havent rlyl spent tonight tohgeth r wrent hom e with jin ill see you so on

You just laugh and close your phone as you approach the front of Tae’s house, Jimin grabbing the keys from Tae’s pocket to let you all in.

As you all seat yourselves around the lounge, you realize that this is the first time in months that the four of you have been here all together. Of course, Jimin seems to intoxicated to notice while Taehyung is completely passed out, but you can feel Jungkook’s eyes bearing weights onto your soul, every now and then flashing him a small smile then looking back to scroll on your phone.

There is an awkward silence among you all, until Jimin decides to finally address the elephant in the room.

“So you guys made up, right?”

With wide eyes, you and Jungkook look at each other briefly, then look back at Jimin without saying a word.

“Jesus, why are you looking at me like that? I may be drunk but I’m still completely aware of what’s going on here... I think.”

You take a deep breath and sigh, and as you’re about to open your mouth, Jungkook interrupts “I kissed Y/N.”

“What?!” both you and Jimin yelp, causing Tae to stir in his sleep, and Jimin starts to chuckle.

“You couldn’t hold yourself back, huh Kookie” he says all too casually, like he knew it was going to happen. You snap at them in response.

“Did you guys plan this or??”

Jungkook immediately shakes his head in protest. “NO no, I just... they know how I feel. About you, about everything, so...”

His voice trails off, but that’s enough of an explanation for you to dart up and head for the door.

“W-Where are you going Y/N??” Jungkook worriedly asks. as he darts over to you to grab your wrist, and you turn to face him slowly. Just earlier you were this close to his face, gazing into each other’s eyes before he kissed you. You shiver at the thought.

“Jungkook I...” you wiggle your wrist out of his grasp. “Thank you? I guess, for being honest. I just really, really, need some time to process this all, okay?”

He simply nods, and you walk towards the door, greeting the boys goodnight before shutting it behind you.

The next morning you find yourself hissing at the sunlight that shines through the windows straight onto your face at the counter. You completely forgot you had switched with your coworker for an opening shift, your head pounding as you slowly but surely tried to set everything up. Thankfully it was a busy day, allowing you to just work and not really think about the events that happened last night.

You develop a groove, asking for a customer’s order, thanking them with a smile, creating drink by drink and even dancing along to the music while you worked, and handing it back to them at their table when you were done. For the most part, you seemed to be getting over your hangover and finding yourself relatively happy.

Until she walks in.

“Good morning, Y/N! Busy day to be working huh? You look pretty tired too.”

Damnit. You really thought you saw the last of her.

“Morning, Andrea. The usual?”

“Please and thank you.”

Huh, she has manners today.

Before you turn around to make her drink, she calls out to you, and you slowly turn around and tilt your head to the side to listen.

“Y/N, uh... Can we talk when you’re off?” You turn to the clock to see that you have just over an hour left, and roll your eyes. You had plans to see Yoongi, but not for a couple of hours. So you give in.

“Uh, sure. I’m off in an hour. You’re welcome to wait here, or whatever.”

When the clock chimes, you notice Andrea stand from her table while you walk to the back to gather your things.

You both end up walking to the open park in front of your plaza, sitting on a bench a little bit apart to keep your distance. Andrea, clearly ignoring your efforts, scoots over to you in attempts to get closer, literally and figuratively. Failing, at both.

“Has Kookie said anything about me lately, Y/N?”

You almost gag. “You still call him Kookie...?”

“I can’t help it” she says with a pout. “I miss calling him that...”

You turn to look at her, pain in her expression, and you wonder if she genuinely has a heart to feel these emotions.

“Uh, no, he hasn’t really mentioned you. I don’t know if he wants to, especially after...” You trail off, wondering if you’ve exposed yourself for knowing what she did. But she doesn’t seem the least bit affected, as she continues to talk.

“Ugh, okay, so he, like, did tell you. I don’t know, Y/N. It just got, boring? After a while. He didn’t seem to be so interested in me. I figured he didn’t really care to fix it either so I kind of, like, did my own thing...”

“Andrea, did you just want to explain yourself to me, or...”

She’s quiet for a while, just looking forward to a couple of kids playing soccer back and forth. Then she looks back at you, with a soft sad expression.

“I think I was a distraction. Not to be, like, the victim here. I know I’m not, but...”

“Please Andrea just spit it out!” you raise your voice and she widens her eyes.

“Okay okay, geez, I’m pretty sure he liked you the whole entire time. I know for a fact it became even more obvious when you started hanging out with Yoongi, which, damn girl he’s cute, you got so lucky!”

You don’t answer to her last remark, still eyeing her down sternly.

“But anyways, yeah... I asked to talk to you so I could tell you that this boy really, really, has a thing for you. And knowing how you guys were before, well I... wanted to say that you should really go for it, or something. I wouldn’t want you to miss out on something... good.”

You’re rather shocked, really, that Andrea would ever think to say something like this to you. Throughout your whole relationship with her, she’d want things to go her way and never really came around to doing anything for you. And as weird and chopped up as her words were today, you appreciated the thought and effort. So you nod and smile, thanking her kindly before standing up to head home.

Yoongi had texted you to wear something nice tonight, and you were puzzled. Every time you hung out, there wasn’t really any reason to considering you just went somewhere nice to enjoy the view and talk, or just have really casual dates. Regardless, you shrug your shoulders and pull out the first nice dress you see that matches your favorite heels and you proceed to get ready.

Jin interrupts you, though, as you hear his loud knocks pound on your door. Before you could even grant him permission to come in, he barges through and sits on your bed.

“I literally could have been naked you know.”

“Ew, thank god you weren’t.”

You grab your brush to throw it at him but he dodges it completely, and you turn back to your mirror to finish applying your makeup.

“What are you guys doing tonight?” He asked with an intense curiosity, sparking your own, considering you don’t even know yourself.

“Honestly? I don’t know. Ask him or something.”

He pauses, looking over to you again and smiling.

“You must really be melting his heart, Y/N.”

You furrow your brows, almost messing up filling them altogether, and turn to face him.

“W-what do you mean?”

He laughs a little, then exits the room without a word, and you call out to him “Could you at least close the damn door?!”

Before you could overthink it, you rush to get ready, seeing as it’s almost time for him to pick you up. You’ve seemed to have gotten used to the routine by now, pampering yourself before rushing down the stairs to see him leaning on his car to greet you. Tonight, however, as you walked outside, you see him dressed to the nines: a crisp, white button down, fitted slacks, what seems to be fancy dress shoes, and his dark hair tousled ever so slightly but falling perfectly. He looked absolutely amazing, causing you to breathe just a little harder as you approached him.

He grabs you by your waist to pull you close, lips barely touching as he looks down to you. “You look stunning tonight, Y/N.” You blush under his gaze, and before you could plant a kiss on his lips, he lets go and opens the door for you.

“You are a tease, Min Yoongi.”

“Only for you, beautiful.”

You want to ask him what the hell is going on, but you’re already getting on the natural high that Yoongi gives you, so you just sit and enjoy the ride.

After almost half an hour of driving down the familiar road, you pull into the lot of the lake area. Intrigued by a distant glow, you hop out of the door as you see Yoongi head to the back of his car to grab a picnic basket, your heart melting at the sight. He flashes your favorite gummy smile to you and you manage to finally place a peck on his cheek, slightly blushing in response.

As you walk towards the glow, you see a table set with a checkered table cloth and candles lining the edges of the table, the soft glow of string lights shining above you as well, the moon still low on the water. You feel as if your heart is going to burst with happiness.

Yoongi guides you over and places the basket down, pulling champagne and homemade pasta and bread and setting up everything in front of you. Every time he set a mat or utensils in front of you, he’d place a kiss on your cheek, leaving you to giggle after each one. When he was done, he sat across you and popped the bottle, the both of you cheering to a wonderful night and talking the night away.

Soon, the moon found it’s way high in the sky above you two, and he guides you to the same spot you both sat at when you last talked. You were a little wobbly with thanks to the champagne, but you were too happy to care. With more conversation, he told you that it’d had been officially a month since you were both last here. At this, you smiled, slightly tinged with the memory that you were still relatively confused between the two boys you favored, but decided to shrug it off as he continued to talk about that night.

“And, well, here we are tonight. Y/N. Looking beautiful as ever.”

“Yoongi, you’re just too kind, really. Thank you, for everything.” You smile at him through slightly glossy eyes, being someone who accepts gestures like these wholeheartedly.

He just looks at you with the warmest smile, and you feel like nothing could ruin this moment.

Sure, well, you still have to worry about Jungkook’s confession. And sure, well, you have to think about how it’s been a whole month and it seems as though you’re still in the same exact position as you were last time with Yoongi. But, hey, that’s just life, right? You make choices, you follow through, you make mistakes, and it’s all about trial and error... right?

You clear your throat as you remember that you planned on telling him about the kiss you shared with Jungkook, but how it meant nothing. Or... you think it means nothing. And it shouldn’t harm anyone anyway. So you open your mouth to speak, but Yoongi beats you to the punch.

“So, Y/N... I know this seems, sudden, maybe? But I feel as if it’s time...”

Oh no.

“I was wondering if”

Oh god no.

“You’d let me be your boyfriend?”

[ariistocracies]

back at it again at krispy kreme y’all ,, muse #2 aka my soft son jamie who just minds his own business and drinks too much coffee so pls handle w caution

tom holland. cismale. he/him. — did you see { jameson sokolov }, i haven’t seen the { twenty-two } year old in a while! you know, they’re a { yoga instructor }, and have been living in jersey city for { twenty-two years }. some say they’re { facetious & impetuous }, but i think they’re { scintillating & charismatic }. regardless, i’m glad { jamie } is here.

STATISTICS:

full name: jameson nikolai sokolov nicknames: jamie or james hometown: jersey city, new jersey sexuality: pansexual gender: cismale spoken languages: english & spanish hogwarts house: gryffindor

BACKSTORY:

okie so start off ,, ya boy jamie was a pure accident if we gonna be honest here .. his dad ( miles ) owns a string of popular private country clubs within south carolina, north carolina, and georgia that have been in his family for a long time with a strong dedicated membership and his mom ( evangeline ) who is uhhh ,, kinda younger than miles by a few years and was working the summer at one of his country clubs in hilton head as an events coordinator for kids when the two met

it was kind of like instant attraction when miles and evangeline met even though he was about 32 and she was 24 and u know ,, miles was engaged but anywho !!! askew moral compass aside . evangeline tried to keep it professional and bc u know , miles was about to be married but eventually the two fell together two months later much to obvious dismay of miles’ fiancée demetria

jamie adores his mom bc she’s a bit of a free spirit who is a bit of a hippie and believes strongly in astrology and ‘looks to the stars for guidance’ kind of jazz and v much a lives in the moment type of person ,, but she definitely fell in love for the first time when she met miles and let him extend her time position at the country club when they started their affair

miles absolutely loved evangeline and wanted to marry her but he had a family obligation to demetria and her parents with his own parents that he was willing to risk but that window of opportunity shut when it turns out evangeline was pregnant with jamie

so yeah ,, for the best evangeline parts with miles bc she figures it wasn’t their time so she leaves the country club and moves her and jamie down to carina bay where she has family and starts up her own apothecary business based on botanical medicines with a wide range of self-made lines from herbal teas, bath & body supplies, medicine & aromatherapy ,, smth of which she is v proud of bc she put herself through college for botanical medicine and saved up money through odd jobs to open it , plus u know miles helped contribute despite her arguments against it

jamie has an odd relationship with his dad ,, doesn’t really mind and is p chill about the whole situation despite it all .. he visits when he can and especially on birthdays ,, pays more than needed in child support bc he isn’t there as much as he’d like and adores jamie .. we stan a present father figure in this household !!! when jamie was about 7 miles opened a new country club outside of jersey city so he has more reason to come up to visit despite demetria and their family being v frustrated

PERSONALITY + PRESENT:

jamie’s mom always described him as an unexpected bundle of joy bc he was always such a giggly and calm baby and that definitely transfers well over to his personality now bc he’s just v laidback and doesn’t take life too seriously ?? which his mom’s temperament def rubbed off on jamie and kind of floated through life easily

the best i can describe it is just .. serena van der woodsen from gossip girl ?? bc jamie is overall a lovely person who’s incredibly nice and means well and can be v charming with his words and smile n dimples ,, so he unknowingly can have people wrapped around his finger without trying ?? occasionally takes advantage of it at times but not much , but things just come easy to him and opportunities just fall into his lap that seem easy to others

for as lax as his mom was in raising jamie, he ended up p tame compared to what he could’ve gotten up to with drinking and drugs .. essentially minded his own business and basically grew up helping his mom out at her apothecary and wandering around carina bay whether it be at the beach or an arcade or just out running , drinks occasionally but generally doesn’t make it a habit

him and his mom were well off bc of how much child support miles gave them so he attended private schools bc miles wanted jamie to have the best opportunities even though his mom was just gonna have him enrolled in public school ,, other than that, jamie was pretty popular throughout high school and was involved in the soccer team and yoga club but did it more out of hobby than anything else , did above average in his classes tbh

the only thing jamie kind of lacks is direction ?? has no clue what he wants to do in life bc he thinks he’s too young to have his future planned out so much and his mom doesn’t mind bc she thinks jamie will find out what he wants to truly do in time and the stars align ,, so yeah . he graduated within the top 30 of his class and got accepted to the colleges he applied to just in case he discovered what he wanted

obviously he hasn’t figured it out so he’s just floating through life that appears v simple and handed to him bc of the money his dad throws his way which is true .. jamie never tries to claim his life his hard bc he understands his privilege and not everyone has it

he put himself through classes to become a yoga instructor bc he enjoys it as a past time and figured why not do smth he actually likes, gets paid to do and has a workout in the midst of it all ??? his dad is literally the kris jenner meme of “ur doing great sweetie !!” with the camera and it’s cute bc sometimes he does yoga with jamie when he visits jfdnlsj

so yeah rn he’s just working as a yoga instructor and is generally an easy going guy who is easy to talk to, loves people and is just enjoying life ?? spends too much time watching the office on netflix, playing video games and has a bit of an obsession with making fresh smoothies so good luck to his roomies bc he will be using that blender whenever ,, and drag u to organic markets for his fruits n veggies and buys too many candles n lotions

tbh v open and not really looking to commit himself to anything or anyone at the moment ?? so he’s a kind hoe .. can sleep around but the type to not just ditch in the morning but will make u breakfast or a lil sticky note thanking u for an a+ time if he does have to jet but mainly just enjoys easy relationships rather than ones that are v demanding

[emthesinger]

An Unlikely Lover

Chapter 10

I’m pretty much confused as to what I’m supposed to do about him.

“I just don’t know. I don’t want to be treated like that again. Now I feel like I have to be with him all the time to make sure he doesn’t pull a stunt like that again. And I want to be his girlfriend, not his babysitter.” I tell Francesa and Rachel.

“If you really like him, it’s so worth it.” Francesa comments.

“Yeah, that’s true. But you should make it very clear what your rules should be. Like in a soccer game. You can’t just tell him the rules as you go.” Rachel tells me.

“Yeah, but everyone knows that when you’re in a relationship you aren’t supposed cheat.”

“Yeah you’re right.” The two say at the same time.

“I mean, he did come after me. I’m definitely not going to chase him.” I say.

“Make him keep chasing then.” Francesa says jokingly.

“That’s actually not a bad idea, Cesca.” Rae says.

“Ugh, I just don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about him, but I’m so mad at the guy.”

“That’s why you should let him chase you.” Cesca says.

~

It’s been a couple of days, and I’m getting ready for dinner with the girls. The whole team is having a random dinner, for no reason. But that gives me a reason to put a dress on. Rae is throwing her clothes all over the place looking for a pink dress. Francesca is peacefully curling her brown hair, while listening to music. I’m drinking already. And I’m still in my pajamas. That consists of an oversized t-shirt, and I’m walking around in my underwear.

“You have a problem.” Rae tells me, frantically looking for that one pink dress that she so happens to be obsessed with.

“No, you have a problem. You make the cleaning ladies suffer.”

“I’m not the one drinking at 4 in the afternoon.”

“It’s just some wine! What’s so bad about that?” I ask my best friend.

“Well, you’re not even trying to get ready.” She comments, and finally finds her dress.

It’s a pink long sleeved, above the knee, mini bodycon revealing her cleavage and curves.

“You always like to look like a slut.” I tell her, and throw all the clothes that she put on my bed to her face.

“Rude. You’ll pay for that.”

“Yeah yeah.” I reply, getting up from my bed and walking to the balcony.

Once I realize that I finished the whole bottle way too quick, I scream.

“WHAT HAPPENED?!” Francesa yelled, running towards me.

“I think I may have a problem.”

“Told you so!” Rachel said from inside te room.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean a drinking problem.” I say, walking in and throwing the empty bottle away.

“Oh. Just go to AA.” Cesca says.

“Yeah but that’s embarrassing.”

I had just taken a shower, so when I take my shirt off it’s a little damp on the back. My pink romper is hanging in my closet and I snatch it from the wooden hanger. It shows a little bit of my cleavage too. Francesa is wearing a long, loose flowy off the shoulder black dress.

“Your waist looks snatched.” I tell Francesca and she smiles.

To prove my point that I have a drinking problem, I search the mini fridge for more alcohol.

“You see, you need help.” Rachel said, while buffing her foundation into her skin with a beauty blender.

She passed by me and smacked my butt, since I was bending over to look for something to drink.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. But drinking is fun.” I say, finally finding a small bottle of tequila.

Francesa was already and the dinner was in an hour.

“What should we do now?” Ivan’s cousin asks.

“I don’t know,” I reply and finish the small bottle of alcohol.

The three of us end of watching Netflix on my laptop, waiting for the hour to pass by. We get so distracted by Friends that neither of us realize that we’re actually 30 minutes late to the dinner now.

“Shit!” I comment and close my laptop.

The dinner was only on the main level of the resort though, in the dining room. So it was no problem getting there quickly. The second we arrive, the guys all look at us.

Rachel and Francesa start posing and stuff, but I just walk away and ask for drinks.

“Hi, I’m Tom Stills. A sports journalist, much like you.” A British man says, and extends his hand so I can shake it.

“I’m Jimenna León. I’m also a travel journalist. But it’s very nice that you know my main profession.” I tell him, and grab a beer bottle from a bucket of ice.

“Your accent, is very strange, where are you from?” He asks.

“I’m mixed, half Nicaragüense, half British. I was born in Nicaragua but raised in England on the Scottish Borders.”

Tom and I end up talking the whole dinner, about what I love which is journalism. We’re actually in the same organization for sports journalists in England. The dinner goes by quick because I have someone to talk to.

“Since I’ll be around here, would you like to have dinner sometime?” He asks, hoping for a yes.

Luka hears him say this, which makes him look up at me. He then leaves the dining room. For sure, I want to say yes because it’s a guy who loves to write. But at the same time, I want to spare him the heartbreak. Because I don’t like him. Everyone already knows who I like.

Dejan, Šime, Ivan R, Mario, Tim and Mateo look at me, giving me a mom look. Yes, the ‘you better do the right decision’ look.

“Look, I’m not interested in relationships right now. But I’ll see you around.” I reply, and put a hand on his shoulder.

The Brit smiles awkwardly and leaves the dining room.

“Good job.” Dejan says, giving me a hug.

“What the hell? For what?” I ask.

“For proving to us, and to yourself that you know what you need to do. You just showed us that you still like the captain of the Croatian national team.”

I did, I just really did. Well, I’m screwed. As much as I try to ignore my feelings for Luka, I just can’t. My mind always wanders back to him. When someone hurts you, you get pride. And I’m the one full of pride here. Luka is openly showing to me that he still wants me. I, on the other hand, have been trying to hide and deny it. Pride gets the best of people, and it’s getting the best of me.

I grab the last remaining bottle of alcohol from the bucket of ice and storm away to the elevators. I’m outside my door now, trying to unlock it. Once I do, I noticed that my room looks different.

It looks cleaner, first of all, and second there are candles and roses everywhere. The balcony door is open, so the wind is slightly making the curtains move.

Ew. What is Rachel planning to do tonight with any of the single players on the team? I don’t even want to think about it.

Without a care or two in the world, I open the bottle of vodka and take a big sip. Slowly, I walk towards the balcony and see that Luka is there. Standing in a suit. He places a bright purple carnation flower on my ear. I’m surprised he knows my favorite flower. It’s not an obvious type either.

“Luka, what are you doing here? I told you we’re over. I’m not interested anymore.” Those words hurt to say. They really did.

“You’re prideful. As much as you hate to admit it, you know that you still care.” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my earlobe.

“We can’t be together. We just can’t. I’m a distraction, remember?”

“You are not a distraction. You are my fuel to move on. My inspiration.” The blonde gently takes my hands and puts them on his shoulders.

I think we’re going to slow dance. His hands hold my waist. We’re moving slowly, from side to side.

“Really?” I ask quietly.

“Yes. I need you, Jimenna. I only need you.”

My fingers are now running through his long hair, it’s so soft. My thumb caresses his cheekbones. The two of us pull in, and our lips meet in a soft kiss. I think we both needed this. But I pull back before he does.

“I’m sorry.” All I can think of is apologizing.

“For what? I should be the one saying sorry and asking for forgiveness.”

“I already forgave you, Luka. I’m just sorry for not letting you focus. I know how much this tournament means to you.”

“I’d rather lose every game, than spend another day without you, Jimenna Marie León.”

[assholemurphy]

Murphonty 43 and 58 for @griseldahowl.

43. “Literally everything about this is illegal.”

58.  “It’ll be easy. You just have to seduce them.” “You’re kidding, right? I’m about as seductive as a cabbage.”

“Literally everything about this is illegal.”

“And you’re complaining? You? What, somebody turn over a new leaf in their sleep?” Murphy snorted, pulling on his gloves.

“No, of course not. It’s just that when you said ‘date night’ I expected, I don’t know, flowers and a nice dinner, not a half-assed plan to steal files from the FBI!” Monty hissed, looking annoyed.

Murphy grinned, “Well, there’ll be plenty of time to do that during the years we spend not in jail for armed robbery, now won’t there?”

“Hey, you’re the one who got caught,” Monty snapped.

“I didn’t get caught. Nobody knows it was me. But they do know it was somebody, and I need to know who they suspect that somebody is, just in case we need to skip town.”

“Skip town again, you mean. Jesus, Murphy, can’t we stay anywhere for longer than a month before you screw things up?”

Murphy sighed, looking a little hurt, but he covered it well, “We move around because there are only so many things worth stealing in one town. So don’t blame me for everything.”

Monty bit his lip, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t mind moving around. I just wish that we could- Fuck it, nevermind. What do you need me to do?”

“Just wish what?” Murphy asked, pulling out Monty’s laptop from his bag. “And I need you to do two things. First, I need you to cut the feed for the security cameras so I can get in the building without being seen. Then, I need you to distract the guy at the front desk so I can slip up to Agent Blake -who’s a real pain in my ass, by the way- his office and copy the file so we can see who they’re looking at for this. If it’s not us, then there’s no reason to run. And if it is, well, then we’ll just have to point them in the wrong direction.”

Monty nodded, “Okay. I can do that. The first part, anyway. The second, how the hell am I supposed to distract that guy? He’s like, trained to be the most attentive guard in the history of guards.”

“Please, he’s just some local hack. You’ll do fine. It’ll be easy. You just have to seduce him,” Murphy shrugged.

Monty wrinkled his nose, “You’re kidding, right? I’m about as seductive as a cabbage.”

“That’s not true and you know it,” Murphy told him. “I happen to think you’re the sexiest guy on the planet.”

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t mean much, considering we both know you have no taste,” Monty huffed, typing on his laptop.

“That’s just rude,” Murphy said, pouting.

“The truth hurts, Murphy.”

“It’s not true. I have the best taste in men.”

“Considering you once dated a cop who almost threw you in jail? I don’t believe that.”

“He was hot and the danger turned me on,” Murphy grinned. “But even so, he still didn’t turn me on half as much as you do.”

“Yes, me. In my superhero tshirts and mismatched socks. I’m quite the catch,” Monty mumbled, focusing on hacking the station’s security feed.

They’d robbed a jewelry store about a week ago and since it was the fifth armed robbery in the city in the past month, the feds had been called in. Of course, it was only their first, they’d piggy backed off of somebody else’s crime spree hoping that their crime would be lumped in with all the others and they’d get away with it. But Murphy had gotten paranoid when it turned out the fed they’d called in was none other than Agent Blake, the guy who’d almost busted them twice prior and had been trying to collect enough evidence to put them away for the past two years.

So, his brilliant idea had been to break into the local police station after hours, dressed as a cop, since the night shift was always understaffed, so he could get a copy of Agent Blake’s files. It was a decent plan, but Monty didn’t like it. They were breaking into a police station, the one place they were supposed to avoid at all costs, but Murphy swore it was necessary. So, it was going to happen, despite Monty’s protests.

“I dunno, there’s just something about that nerdy charm that gets me going. Maybe it’s because I know you’re more criminal than nerd. Or because I know you can take apart a handgun and put it back together in under a minute. Or maybe it’s that haircut. Makes you look badass. Or it could be because the way you sass me. Or because of all the other things your mouth can do...” Murphy trailed off with a shrug and a smirk. “But, if this goes right, then I promise, tomorrow night I’ll take you out for a proper date. Candles, wine, roses, all of it.”

“You say that, but I doubt it’ll happen. Your idea of romance is half a bottle of whiskey and cold pizza.”

“That’s not true. I can do romance.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“I’ll prove it to you,” Murphy promised. “I’ll steal you a diamond ring.”

“Diamonds are artificially inflated. They’re practically worthless. Steal me something worthwhile.”

“Like what?”

“Like a painting or something we can sell for a small fortune.”

“What would you do with that fortune?” Murphy asked, curious.

“Buy a house with a view in some country town where nobody knows who we are.”

“Settle down, you mean.”

Monty sighed, “Yeah, that’s what I mean. Not that you want that.”

“It’s not that I don’t want it,” Murphy said. “It’s that if it happens, you’ll get bored of me. I’m only interesting when things are exciting. What would I do, anyway? I don’t even have a high school diploma.”

“You could write that novel you always talk about. And I could work on coding for video games and we could just live, Murphy, like normal people. We could make dinner and watch tv reruns and maybe raise a kid one day,” Monty said, looking up from his computer. “And I won’t ever get bored of you. That’ll never happen.”

“You want a kid?”

“Or two. Do you not?”

“I guess I never really thought about settling down. I never saw that far in the future.” But, ever since Monty had brought it up the first time, Murphy had been trying to come up with a plan to steal something big, something worthwhile, so that they could try settling down. He did want it, but only if it was with Monty. He was just putting it off because he was afraid Monty would leave him when the danger and excitement was gone.

“Maybe you should.” Monty shook his head, “Whatever. We can talk about this later. I’ve disabled the security cameras. Let’s go.”

Murphy nodded and got out of the car, walking around to the side and waiting for Monty to get out. “Now, you distract the guard and I’ll get the file. Then we can get out of here. Tonight, we’ll start planning for that big heist.”

Monty was surprised, “You mean you want to settle down?”

Murphy shrugged, “I’d be alright with settling down, but only on one condition.”

Monty sighed, “And what is that?”

Murphy smiled and dug around in his pocket, pulling out a silver ring he’d grabbed from the store when they’d robbed it. It had a little emerald in the center with leaves twisting around the band. He’s called the store three weeks before they’d robbed it to order it specifically for Monty. He held it out and said, “Marry me?”

Monty’s mouth opened in a little ‘o’ of shock. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah, babe. I know you want to settle down and I’m on board, but I want to marry you first. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right. I want the whole thing. A house, kids, a minivan and soccer practice. And you, Monty, I want you.”

Monty nodded, “Yeah, okay. Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, Murphy, I’ll marry you,” Monty smiled and held out his hand so Murphy could slip the ring onto his finger.

Murphy put the ring on him and smiled wide, reaching out with his other hand to pull Monty close so he could kiss him. It was a little rough but it was loving and Monty melted into it.

Finally, Murphy pulled back and said, “No, go seduce the guard. Lay it on thick. Be as obvious as you can be. Even if he’s not gay, it’ll be a great distraction. And then, when we get home, we can celebrate this properly.”

“With whiskey and cold pizza?”

“With wine and candlelight. And after, I’m going to pull you onto the bed and make you scream,” Murphy promised with a smirk.

“I still doubt your ability to romance me.”

“Well, it seems I do a pretty good job of it, since you’re going to marry me.”

Monty just grinned and shook his head, pulling away from Murphy to walk towards the station’s doors. “Just don’t screw this up. I expect at least a good fifty years of marriage from you and I can’t have that if you’re in prison.”

Send me a prompt?

[kimonobeat]

aiko bon “Profile interview” Chapter 1 (Part 3/3)

ーWould you say you were a pretty precocious child?

aiko: I think so. In kindergarten I’d kiss other kids in tunnels I made out of cardboard boxes. (laughs) Like, a boy would come from the other end of the box and I’d kiss him. I’d also paint my nails in secret with my mom’s nail polish, or put her lipstick on. One day I was shaving the hair off my legsーI was copying my momーand ended up covered in blood. I tried to hide it by getting the bathtub, but it didn’t really go as planned. That got covered in blood too. My mom caught me while I was toweling myself off and asked, “What happened!?” And I said, “Hm? Nothing.” (laughs)

ーBecause in your head, you were just playing a little game.

aiko: Exactly! But the games I played were games boys would play. Most of the little kids who lived in our apartment complex were boys. I never once had a Licca doll or a Barbie doll. I mostly played outside games: tag, hide-and-seek, kick the can, skateboarding, roller skating, soccer, baseball, softball, catching cicadas, catching sparrows, stuff like that. All the toys people bought me were squirt guns and other ‘boy’ toys. The one ‘girly’ thing I had was a Little Twin Stars moon set. When I was alone inside the house, I used to play this game called “Robot Q”. Or I’d play records on my record player, or read the “Karasu no Panya-san (The Crow’s Bakery)” picture books. I mostly played outside though. I always came home from kindergarten just before my dad was leaving for work, so sometimes he’d ask me if I wanted to go to the amusement park. If I said yes, he’d take me! Once summer came around, he’d take me to the beach and the mountains too.

ーDid you play any ‘girly’ games at all? Like playing ‘mommy’.

aiko: Nope. I played in the mud almost every single time it rained. You know, like making mud pies. I loooved how mushy mud felt in my hands. I never really ever wanted dress-up dolls or anything like that.

ーYou really were like a little boy.

aiko: I was, huh? I liked coloring too, though. You know those things they sell at Volks? The ones where all you have to do is just dot the color on, get it wet, and then you can paint with it? I used to do that a lot. I don’t really remember much about playing inside because I was always running around outside though… Oh, that reminds me! I used to play this game while listening to English songs on my record player where I tried to write down what I thought they were on saying on a piece of paper. I think that was when I was in elementary school? I’d listen to the song and write down the English words in katakana. I didn’t know how to write the ‘tu’ sound in Japanese when writing out the word ‘tomorrow’ though, [because there’s no ‘tu’ sound in Japanese]. I remember really fretting about it. “T… t… huh?” (laughs)

ーI’m sure you played a lot of pranks too, given how lively of a kid you were.

aiko: I did! Well, they were more like games than pranks, but oftentimes my parents ended up getting mad at me. For example, one time I was playing with a pachinko set my grandma bought me. My mom called me, and when I turned around she saw something shiny in my nose. She got so flustered. Turns out my whole nose was stuffed with pachinko balls! She went, “Oh my GOODNESS!” and took all the balls out of both sides of my nose, one at a time. Apparently when I fell asleep that night, I was making a strange sound and breathing really hard all night. She took one more look and saw that I had even MORE in my nose.

ーHow did she get them out?

aiko: We went to the hospital. It was a huuuge ordeal. I kept crying, “Chop (stop) it! Chop it, chop it!” so they couldn’t get them out. My dad told me that eventually he just said, “Give her to me!”, snatched the tweezers from the doctor’s hands, and took them out himself. I used to think that was why my nose is turned up like this. (laughs) My grandma went home during all this hubbub because she was upset. My dad had yelled at her about buying a little kid something like that. I wondered why I didn’t see her around, but that was because she’d gone home silently even though it wasn’t her fault at all. There were a couple of times when I tried to find out how long my nose would bleed too. It was summer break and I had a ton a free time, so I just decided to find out how long my nose would bleed if I let it. It trickled onto my desk and made a whole pool of blood. But then it didn’t stop bleeding even after a long time had passed, so I quit because I thought I was gonna die. Other than that… I ate too much liver once and had to take an ambulance to the hospital.

ーWhat happened!?

aiko: Nothing, I literally just ate too much. (laughs) I’ve loved liver ever since I was a little kid. I had some liver that my dad had chopped up. We were cutting each other’s pieces… my dad totally set me up for failure! I ate a WAY bigger portion than any little kid should’ve eaten and started having convulsions, so they called an ambulance. I remember them taking me to the hospital and crying, “Daaaddy, I don’t, I don’t wanna die!” (laughs)

ーYou were a pretty amazing kid. (laughs) What were your eating habits and favorite foods when you were little?

aiko: My parents were pretty strict about what I ate. They didn’t let me eat a whole lot of junk food. I got to have instant ramen every Saturday, but that was about it. At our house, the only kind of juice I got to drink were the ‘100% fruit’ kind, and the only snacks were like rice crackers and yogurt. Basically, we didn’t eat sweets that much at our house. We really didn’t have anything ‘just for kids’. Aside from them leaving the wasabi off of my sushi, I ate the same exact things as my parents. I got to have a lick of beer almost every day because of that. (laughs) I’d be like, “Gimme!” and I’d get to lick the foam off the top. My dad also brought me to a bunch of different places throughout my childhood so that I’d learn about all kinds of food. So like, I’m serious, I’ve been eating soft-shelled turtle since I was a little kid. They never gave me sweet curry just because I was a kid either. The curry my parents made was nice and spicy. That’s the reason why I like bar snacks so much now, I think. You know, like atarime, nuta, kinpira, ohitashi.

ーWas there anything in particular you really loved or hated?

aiko: I LOVED the omelettes my mom made for me. She put potatoes, onion and sweetened ground meat in them; I loved ‘em. And what I hated? My dad made me eat raw bell pepper he’d sliced into rings and covered with dried bonito flakes and soy sauce almost every night. He’d also make this super sour dish of cucumbers and seaweed in a mixture of vinegar, water and sesame oil. They were so horribly sour that I’d cry like a big baby every time I ate them. I wasn’t a huge fan of nattou or carrots either. And, since I wasn’t used to eating them, I’d feel so gross after eating potato chips because of all the oil. Yeah, you heard me. I was a little kid who couldn’t eat potato chips OR cake. They gave me heartburn. (laughs)

ーSo you didn’t have any cake at birthday parties either, or… ?

aiko: Nah. I’d blow the candles out, eat a little bit, and immediately feel awful. Everyone else would be eating cake while I was off to the side eating ochazuke. (laughs) I like rice and udon noodles quite a bit though. I also loved flour. One of my favorite things to do was make these thick okonomiyaki with just onion in it, almost like a crepe.

ーSounds like you were really big into Japanese food!

aiko: Yes I was. Ever since I was little, any time I went to my grandma’s house I’d just slurp up a bunch of nukazuke. Then, I’d eat dinner with pickled mustard leaves. I really loved umeboshi too. One time I ate 18 of them while watching “Toyama no Kin-san” on TV. (laughs)

ーWhen they said you could eat whatever you wanted, what did you ask for back then?

aiko: I’d say, “Volks”! (laughs) Volks was a reward for me because I’d always ask to go. I still like that place, especially their corn soup. Some Volks locations have a soup bar with consomme, minestrone, you name it. They’re more about soup more than they are their steaks to me.

ーDid you have anything problems eating school lunches?

aiko: The food they served at school was just eh. I was the type of kid who took so long to eat that I’d still be eating while everyone else was starting to clean the lunch room. I was always begging my friends to eat some of my food too. I’d say, “Wow, you eat so fast! I wish could be like you. You’re so awesome!! Mind eating this too?” to get them to eat my food. (laughs) Not only was I a slow eater, they also served a lot of food I hated since I didn’t really like kiddy food… Like, I hated cream stew. I’d never eaten spaghetti with meat sauce either because we only ate mentaiko spaghetti at my house. (laughs) Butter and margarine were too greasy for me and would give me heartburn, so I didn’t like that. Didn’t like milk much either. The thing I liked the most at school lunch was brown sugar bread, or stuff like tangerine jelly cups. I liked their yakisoba a lot too.

ーSo basically, you hated over half of it.

aiko: Yeah, I guess so. But when I was in elementary school, you had to stand up in front of the class and say why you didn’t finish your food at lunchtime. I mean, the real reason I didn’t finish it was because I hated it. (laughs) I’d just lie and say something like, “My stomach hurts, so I left behind one piece of bread.” That was a pretty cruel thing to do, now that I think about it.

ーWas that the only sweet thing you liked? Anything else?

aiko: Ohhh, I used to love eating the warabimochi seller that came every day in the summertime. He’d come singing this song that went “Warabiiimochi, warabiiimochiii, so coooool and refreshiiing, how about some warabimochiii?” His warabimochi melted on your tongue so fast it was almost like water. He also put a TON of kinako on it. I used to love that so much. I still like warabimochi and abekawa mochi to this day.

ーSounds like you did a lot of lessons as a kid too?

aiko: Yes I did, because I told them I wanted to do every lesson that caught my eye. Swimming, piano, English, abacus, calligraphy, and… Kumon, I think? That way I had something to do just about every day. I’m fine at starting things, but then it was hard to find a time to quit, and then my parents wouldn’t let me quit either. Not that I was going to a foreign university or anything, but it was kinda like that: easy to get in, hard to graduate from. (laughs) I did all those lessons my entire childhood because of that.

ーThese were all things you’d said you wanted to do, right?

aiko: The only one my dad made me do was swimming lessons. One of my dad’s friend’s kids drowned at the beach and went into cardiac arrest. They managed to revive him with CPR, but he made me go because he was worried about my safety if I didn’t know how to swim. At first I was so scared of the water that I’d throw a big crying fitー“NO! I DON’T WANT TO!”ーand cry next to the pool. After the third time, I swam so much I’d even cut in line waiting for my turn to swim again. I’d swim around saying, “Mom, look at me!” (laughs) I said I wanted to do all the other lessons besides swimming but would always focus too hard on the way I looked doing it instead of the fundamentals. Like sitting up straight while doing calligraphy. (laughs) I asked to do Kumon too, but I had a ton of homework almost as soon as I started. I really wasn’t sure if I could do it all, but I didn’t want them to get mad at me for quitting, so I just put up with it and kept going anyway.

ーDid you want to do piano lessons too?

aiko: I did. At first, anyway. (laughs) I started when I was 3 years old, and my hands were so tiny that I couldn’t actually play the piano. We just used paper cards instead. Like, the piano teacher would ask me, “What is this one?” and I’d say, “A ‘ti’ in treble clef.” And then they’d ask, “How about this one?” and I’d say, “A ‘mi’ in bass clef.” Just practicing how to read music. I liked when I was eventually to play the piano itself. By early elementary school I’d already learned a lot and was pretty sick of it. My teacher did one-on-one lessons with two Yamaha pianos facing each other. Sounds like a lot of pressure, right? So I’d say my ‘I wanna quit’ feeling was at its peak in first grade. It was like Pavlov’s dogs almost: I got sleepy every time I even touched the piano. (laughs). I was like, falling asleep, drooling on the keyboard while practicing.

ーDid your parents get mad at you whenever you did that?

aiko: Ohhh yeah, they’d really rip into me. If my mom heard the piano go silent while she was in the kitchen doing dishes, I’d hear her stop washing dishes and yell, “AIKOOO!” She’d go back to cleaning when she heard me start playing again. After a little while I’d stop playing and fall asleep… Then she’d come into the piano room and say, “Aiko?” And of course I’d get in trouble. (laughs) I did piano lessons up until I was in 4th grade. I think I got up to doing “Sonachine”. I don’t remember any of it though.

ーDid you hate doing piano recitals at all?

aiko: Maybe. I don’t think I liked doing them much. I’m pretty sure I’d walk on stage to where the piano was, but then I’d skip off the stage when I was done. Like, “Phew, I’m done!” (laughs) I remember everyone laughing at me for skipping back to my seat.

ーYou weren’t really interested in getting attention as a kid, but you didn’t mind getting it, did you? (laughs)

aiko: I think so? I did English lessons up until I was in early elementary school too, but the older kids would always pick on me. They’d ambush me on my way to and from lessons to pick on me. According to my dad, I was real down in the dumps because of it. So he told me to fight back. “If you get in a fight, and something happens to you,” he said, “I’ll take your side.” He said my mood did a total 180 after he told me that. (laughs)

ーWere you the kind of kid who’d get into fights with boys?

aiko: Yeah, all the time. I even practiced how to punch correctly with my dad. Early in elementary school I wanted to try it out in real life just once. I landed a pretty solid hit on a  boy who kept picking on me on the way home from school. (laughs) For a moment I was like, “What have I done!?” But then the boy just got really quiet and went home. In fact, my friends would call out my name so I’d come over whenever they were fighting with a boy. I guess I must’ve seemed pretty manly to them.

ーDo you think that was because there were a lot of boys around you?

aiko: Maybe? All the kids in the apartment complex we lived in at the time were boys. I’d say there were 2 or 3 boys who were about 4 years older than me, a boy who was about my age, and a girl who was a year younger than me.

ーHow was kindergarten? Were you a handful for your teacher?

aiko: Hmmm… I used to say whatever was on my mind, so in that sense… probably. (laughs) I didn’t think twice about saying things that ended up being problems for the PTA.

ーLike, you stood out a lot in class?

aiko: I did whatever I wanted to. (laughs) Oh, speaking of standing out, one time I was the main character of a play we did. It was a story about a caterpillar becoming a butterfly, kind of like “The Ugly Duckling”. In the beginning, everyone’s mean to the caterpillar: “Ew, you’re dirty! Gross! A caterpillar! Shoo!” The caterpillar wonders why it’s so different from everyone else. Then it gets its wings, and it turns out that the ‘caterpillar’ is really a swallowtail butterfly. I was the main character of that story… I really was an oddball.

ーAn oddball, huh? (laughs)

aiko: Yup. But you know, now that I think about it, of course I am-- I’m my parents’ daughter after all. ‘Like father, like son’, right? They’ve got totally different personalities, and I’m a mix of all the good things about them. I think about that a lot. My mom and dad were meant for each other... We used to have a lot of pets at our house even though my mom hates animals. I’m not sure what was going on then, exactly. (laughs) We had almost 100 birds.

ー100 birds!? Can you even do that in an apartment building?

aiko: No, they weren’t supposed to have them. We just kept them a secret. We had an American short-hair cat at first, but had to return it to the pet shop when the landlord found out. But guess who didn’t learn their lesson? We had a Shih tzu after that. The Shih tzu was so attached to our landlord that he just said, “Fine, but keep it a secret, okay?” The whole apartment building became officially ‘pet-friendly’ after he gave us the OK. (laughs) He said he changed it because we were his very first tenants to move in. Soon enough there were so many pets in the building, it was almost like a pet exchange. People were saying stuff like, “Here, I’d like to give you a turtle.” (laughs)

ーBack to the 100 birds you guys had though…

aiko: We had Java sparrows, society finches, canaries, and Gouldian finches; crucian carp, koi fish, snakeheads, ranchu, shrimp, eels, pond loaches, catfish, Japanese rice fish, crayfish, turtles, and crabs in our aquarium; a Shih tzu and a mutt, as well as a hamster and a rhinoceros beetle.

ーA rhinoceros beetle? (laughs)

aiko: Yes. (laughs) They’re always selling them at Expoland whenever I go there. I hate bugs now but was totally fine with them back then. We also kept cicada larvae at our house. I used to watch them emerge from their shells.

ーWhere do you even keep all these pets, anyway?

aiko: Out on the veranda. Which is why their veranda always looked like a jungle, even though it was super tiny. The left side of the veranda was the corner where we kept the fish, the right side was the corner where we had all the bird cages stacked on top of each other. You go inside, and that’s where we kept the dogs and the hamster. The ranchu swam around in the entryway of the apartment. My dad took good care of all of them, every single day.

ーDid you have any pets that were sort of weird, or unusual to have as pets?

aiko: Hm… Well, we never had any reptiles… Maybe the flying squirrel? We also had… what was it… we had piranhas and such too.

ーI wouldn’t keep one of those as a pet. (laughs)

aiko: Well, we didn’t think anything of it! My dad got so excited watching them grow. He had so much fun taking care of the piranhas. (laughs)

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[simontheoreo]

The Light Within The Darkness

Spierfield Week Day 2: Soulmate AU The world was a dark place, as in literally dark all the time. For some reason humanity had evolved, or devolved, into mammals who could not experience the sun’s natural light. With only one fix. They had to find their one true love. They’d know it was their soulmate because the person’s body would have a massive aura of almost blinding light around them. This is what then cured them of what seemed like a curse on humanity.

Until then everyone had a flashlight that was about 2x the radius of a normal flashlight. Since people weren’t used to what light was, science had really only found out a way to make the flashlights, skipping candles all together due to the flashlights being a relatively new invention, only going far enough back to the late 20th century.  This is what allowed them to interact with each other, and the world, until they found their soulmate. This is what allowed them to survive, physically and emotionally.

Simon was one of the people that were left in the dark, so to speak. Almost all of his friends had found their soulmates, and he was always left wondering what the world was like when it was filled with light. He wondered what it was like to have a soulmate. His friends still brought their flashlights with them so Simon wouldn’t feel left out, but they were slowly starting to forget them. Simon couldn’t blame his friends, they had found happiness, and he was happy for them. At least that’s what he kept telling himself.

On one dark afternoon Simon shined his flashlight on his pitch black phone screen. It was another email from his pen pal, Blue. Blue was supposedly a student at Simon’s high school, and they had a lot of romantic conversations. But if Blue was Simon’s soulmate, like he wanted him to be, wouldn’t he have seen him at school by now? The boy was starting to lose hope.

To: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com

From: blugreen118@gmail.com

Subject: Re: Soulmates

Jacques,

I understand what you mean. I still haven’t found my so called ‘soulmate’ either. It’s pretty depressing considering everyone at Creekwood High seems to have found them frighteningly easily. I guess that could be considered kind of a cliché though.

Except I don’t want to wait. I want to feel this so called “sun”-show me what the big deal about it is. I want to meet that one person that will light up my world. I want someone to love me.

I can only hope my own light can guide them to me.

Blue

Except Blue actually had found his soulmate. Bram Greenfield already found his soulmate. It was Simon Spier, and that light radiating off of him showed itself to Bram quite a while ago. It happened not long after he had started emailing “Jacques.” Simon was Jacques, Bram figured this out quickly. After all, Simon wrote the way he spoke. Bram was so thrilled at first, he’s had a crush on Simon for the longest time.  Simon was naturally kind, he was a goofball, and he showed compassion for everyone. His inner light of his heart had lit up every room, even though it wasn’t in the literal sense. Ever since Bram’s discovery of who his soulmate was, and who Jacques was, he had been an emotional ferris wheel. On one hand whenever Simon was around Bram felt that warm, familiar light. On the other hand, Simon still hadn’t seen Bram’s light. Over the course of their emails it was obvious they both had feelings for each other…but it still hadn’t been confirmed that they were meant to be together. Bram had a theory. The reason why Simon hadn’t seen his light yet was because Simon hadn’t put the persona of “Blue” to a person. He hadn’t seen “Blue” for who he physically is yet. It was a convoluted idea, but it’s what got Bram through the day. In the back of his mind was a storm of anxiety. What if Simon was Bram’s soulmate, but by some weird universe glitch, Bram wasn’t Simon’s? What if Simon found the person he’s destined to see the world with and Bram was left in the dark forever? It was killing him.

One afternoon Simon had agreed to see some of his friends after the soccer game that Nick had that day. As Simon waited on his doorstep, flashlight in hand, he heard cheerful screaming coming from the car. Nick’s car pulls up in the street in front of Simon’s house.

“SIMON!!! WE WON!!!!” The boy yells with a trophy in hand.

“THIS MEANS WE GET JACKETS!” Garret, Nick’s teammate, screams.

“Because that’s what matters…” Bram, another soccer player, says with a sigh in the backseat. Shining his flashlight towards the house he lets out a soft yet still loud enough “Hey Simon.” He knew he didn’t have to do that to see Simon. He could see him from a mile away, but he couldn’t make the situation worse.

Simon waves to the boy as he gets in the backseat. He turns to Bram. “So you guys won, huh? That’s pretty exciting.”

Bram looks at the floor of the car. “Y-yeah. I guess it is.” There’s a melancholic feeling in the air coming from the backseat.

Garret, trying to cheer his teammate up yells into the backseat. “Alright Greenfield, it’s your turn to pick the music, go ahead and connect to the Bluetooth. Just don’t play anything sappy, ok?”

Bram shines his flashlight onto his phone “Alright..”

The song starts to play and Simon’s head twitches up. “This is…Elliot Smith.”

“Waltz #2.” Bram says matter-of-factly. He then begins to look out the window, looking at the boy who introduced him to Elliot Smith in the window’s reflection. Looking at his light shine and fill up the car all on it’s own.

As the song goes on the lyrics flow into Simon’s mind. “/I'm never gonna know you now, but I'm gonna love you anyhow…/”

Then suddenly, a specific lyric hits Simon like a ton of bricks. “//….cos I'm doing just fine *hour to hour, note to note*.//”

Suddenly everything connects in Simon’s mind. The past few months of his time with Blue all flash before his eyes and everything makes sense. He turns to look at Bram and sees a beautiful ring of light that covered an area of space that was even bigger than the car.

Bram sees Simon’s expression in the window and slowly turns his head around.

And from that day on they both saw the world. They saw it together.

And it was beautiful.