#anyway like. everything is disgusting and difficult internally and I just [ screams ]

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

in which harry is the right person at the wrong time. 

a/n: hi lovelies! here is my christmas fic for @goldenbluesuit​ ‘s xmas challenge! i chose the song ‘baby, it’s cold outside’ and it’s my FAVORITE xmas song, so i’ve included bits and pieces of the song throughout the story! hope you all like it, and happy holidays! pls rb and send feedback bc they’re very helpful :) 

WORD COUNT: 9.6k of ex lovers to lovers, teacher!harry x lawstudent!yn filled with slight angst, missing someone dearly, and fluff

WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol consumption 

COME INTO MY INBOX AND LETS TALK ABOUT ‘BABY, IT’S COLD OUTSIDE’ i’d love to know your thoughts! 

pls rb to share! <3

17 December 2020

A chilly and snowy night was upon you as you took a shot of hard liquor. The face of disgust appeared on your face as the liquid slowly went down your throat after you hammered the shot of tequila. 

Normally, you wouldn’t pregame when you were going to your friend, Addie’s, house where you would drink some more, but you needed to shake off your nerves that you felt at the moment. You took a deep breath after taking your second shot and you had physically felt yourself starting to relax. 

Rolling your head to stretch your neck out, you decided it was time to leave since it was nearing seven in the evening. You called yourself an Uber because of the alcohol in your system and you were planning to sleep over Addie’s place since she said she would bring you back in the morning before you had to go to work. 

You waited for your Uber by the front door while you looked in the mirror, putting your black beanie onto your head. You were bundled up in a black university sweater, a camel color coat over, along with tan lounge pants and a pair of black boots. Once you got a notification that your Uber driver, Jason, was in front of your house, you grabbed your overnight bag and headed out the door. 

You placed the hood of your sweater over your beanie so you got more warmth since it was quite cold. You were never one for the cold weather, which is unfortunate since you lived in London. You cherished the days where it was sunny and warm; the sun bright and warm as you laid on the grass in complete content. 

You missed those days. You missed the days where you didn’t worry about a singular thing. 

Looking out the window, on your way to your destination, you watched the snow slightly fall, hitting and building up on the ground while the pedestrians walked through the streets, bundled up in thick layers of clothing. Some people were with others, walking hand in hand or hugging each other through the cold. Even though it was freezing cold outside, there were smiles on their faces because the hold of one another was enough. They could get through the worst snowfall, but if they were in each other’s arms, it wouldn't matter; they could get through anything. 

The cold had reminded you that you were missing a pair of strong arms that should’ve been around you through this season, but you were completely frozen—left out in the cold to warm yourself up. 

You sighed and the car stopped in front of Addie’s place. You thanked your driver, wishing him a ‘Happy Holidays’ before you got out and buzzed your best friend’s apartment onto the buzzer system; hearing one back, you entered the complex while brushing your shoes onto the floor mat, so you wouldn’t slip while going up the stairs. 

You were grateful the building was warm, and you’re sure Addie would crank up the heat for you since you would always complain how ‘bloody cold’ it is all the time. 

Once you opened the door, you were met with your entire friend group who were all lounging around in the living area. They all faced the door once you walked in, seeing who the last friend to arrive. Greetings were sent towards you, Addie and Nic got up from their spots on the couch that they’re going to lose because behind them, Elijah and Niall were getting up from their spots on the floor to steal it. 

“Hey! There you are! We were all waiting for you,” Addie said, giving you a hug. 

Nic went in for a hug before she pulled back and looked at you suspiciously. You looked at her confusingly, wondering why she was looking at you the way she was before she said, “Did you party before you came here?” You furrowed your brows until you remembered that she probably smelt the alcohol that you took before you left. 

“Oh, uh, just took a couple of shots before I came here.” The two girls understood quite well, thankfully. 

“No worries! Come join,” Addie welcomed you in. The two went back to the living area, only to see that their spots were taken, so they grabbed the two boys’ arms, yanking them out of their seats. You chuckled as you walked to Addie’s room to put all of your belongings. 

Once you did that, you exited her room the same time the bathroom door opened across her room. The person in front of you was the reason why you were so anxious before you left; why you needed to relax for a bit and mentally prepare yourself before going to Addie’s place. 

The person in front of you was Harry Styles. 

The person who had your heart. 

The person you were deeply in love with still. 

The person who was your ex boyfriend. 

“Hi,” he said surprisingly, smiling a bit. 

“Hi, Harry,” you replied, inching towards him as he met you halfway. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders as you did the same around his waist, resting your cheek onto his chest. The hug was warm and comforting, like it always was, and you looked forward to these kinds of hugs every time you saw him. But your heart ached every single time. 

Pulling away, you gave him a small smile before you two walked out of the hallway and to where your friends were. There was laughter between the two girls and guys as Niall was telling them a joke. Nic was the one who saw you and Harry first, and her laughter died down. She looked at you concerningly, giving you those eyes as if they were asking if you were okay, and you nodded your head to reassure her. You and Harry join the group; you sat on the loveseat on one side of the rectangle wooden table, while Harry sat on the floor on the other side. 

You tried joining in on the conversation and laughter, but you couldn’t help but take sneaky glances back to Harry, only to find him getting glances at you as well. 

It was hard to focus on anything your friends were saying when Harry was in the same room, but you realized it was also difficult when he wasn’t in the same room because then you were wondering where he was. 

It wasn’t easy being friends with Harry after the breakup, good friends, especially; and it pained you to actually act normal around him when all you wanted to do was scream, cry, and have him comfort you. But you did your very best to maintain a cool, calm, and collected mood whenever you’re around him, although inside, your heart was racing and everything you said seemed incoherent. 

You tried your best to avoid him after you two split, and he did as well, but being part of the same friend group just didn’t go well with your wishes. You two had to suck it up and be normal around each other.

Being with Harry was possibly the best eight months of your life. To some, it’s not the longest amount of time, but he was one of a kind; you couldn’t find anyone out there like him--not like you were looking anyways. It genuinely felt like you’ve been together for years, and when you two were celebrating your six month anniversary, your friends had questioned you saying ‘It’s only been six months?!’

Your relationship with Harry was all things blissful. It was pure happiness and love, and you wouldn’t want it with anyone else. You two rarely got into fights, and if you did, it was most likely a petty and annoyed argument that would have you two back in each other’s arms only twenty minutes after. He was your fresh breath of air that made you laugh and orgasm…multiple times. 

It was all smiles and laughs until it wasn’t. 

You two had gotten together the second semester of senior year. Meeting at the library because you couldn’t reach a book, it didn’t take long for you both to get together. You had known him for two weeks until he asked you out on a date where he kissed you for the first time. The dates and kisses continued on for six months until you mutually decided to call it quits. 

It wasn’t an easy decision, but considering that Harry was going to a different school that was in a different country for his master’s degree in education for the fall semester, and you were also in the midst of your career; interning at a law firm didn’t quite clear up your schedule, only making you busier by the hour. There was barely any time for the two of you to spend time with each other with how busy and hectic your lives were, so there would most likely be no calls coming in or distant texts that were sent out to make it seem like the void had disappeared. 

Like two mature adults, you and Harry called it quits after the summer. He moved away to get his master’s and you kept yourself busy at the law firm. It wasn’t easy--still isn’t easy, but it was for the best. The both of you needed to focus on your careers and yourself before you two were ready enough to get back together. That’s if Harry wanted to get back together anyways. 

Of course you wanted to get back together with him, but you didn’t know where he stood on that, or if he was even seeing someone. Throughout the two years that he was away, you only saw him during summer and winter breaks, so he could possibly be seeing someone whenever he goes back to school. But now that he had moved back again, your mind was spiraling because now you got to see him more. 

Finally, you broke out of your trance, once again thinking about Harry, you saw him looking at you. The both of you completely tuned out to the conversation and laughter coming from your friends. You held your wine glass up, Harry doing the same while smirking before you both sipped your drinks, hoping the sweet wine would relax your bodies. 

Nic was picking out a small paper out of the Santa hat Addie was holding. She took a quick peek at it before, smirking to herself before Addie moved over to you for your turn. As you chose your Secret Santa, you hoped it was a good one. It’s not like you didn’t love your friends, some of them were picky, and by some, you mean Nic. 

You looked at the piece of paper, smiling before shoving it into your pocket. Addie moved onto Harry who was the last one to choose, and you watched him as he looked at the paper like it was a poker hand. He raised his brows, smirking before he looked up and started to fold the paper. Your eyes looked down at his polished hands, noticing that he still wears the same rings as he did when you first met him. Your favorites were his initial, thinking how incredibly sexy and alluring they looked on him as he walked around confidently. You’ve stolen them multiple times as well, even if they were too big on you, but the thought of walking around with Harry’s name on you just seemed so enticing. 

Niall’s laughter brought you out of your sensual thoughts about Harry’s hands and you realized you were caught staring, and Harry knew exactly what you were looking at with the amount of times he’s caught you staring and fantasizing about his hands. Plus, you openly told him that you had a thing for his hands. 

A smug smile was seen from Harry, so you took your attention away from him and towards your friends. 

“So, what do we say? $50 limit?” Nic suggested, and Elijah rolled his eyes.

“Why are you trying to make me broke? You know I have a huge family, like, 15 cousins!” Elijah debates. 

Nic gasped dramatically. “I’m offended you don’t consider us family, Eli!” Elijah playfully rolls his eyes again, turning his head to the side as he smiled into his shoulder, blushing a bit. 

You chuckled at their playful banter. You’re a bit surprised they hadn’t gotten together yet because ever since you met them, you could practically feel the tension between them. They were just too stubborn to admit that they liked each other. 

“Okay, how about we make it maximum $30?” Harry pitched in. Your eyes had immediately averted to him, and it was like he captured you just by the sound of his voice. “We have exactly six days to get our gifts,” he added. Your friend group has always been one for procrastinating. Everyone is so busy these days that it gets harder to plan hangouts where the entire group could go, but you were all family, so if the gatherings were at three in the morning, everyone would be there. 

The group agreed, telling him that was a solid number. You caught Harry’s eye and he softly smiled at you. Giving him one back, you suddenly felt nervous as he smiled, so you chugged the rest of your wine and walked to the kitchen to open a new bottle to bring to the living area.

The bottle made a loud pop sound, which earned an in sync ‘Woo!’ from the group as it was a tradition you all created whenever a new bottle of wine was being opened. Smiling to yourself, you poured yourself a glass before downing it. As you were doing so, Harry walked into the kitchen with his own glass in his hand. 

“Hogging all the wine, aren’t you, Y/N?” He teased to clear the awkward and anxious tension between you two, and luckily, you stifled out a giggle. 

“You know me and my wine.” You refilled his empty glass while taking a sip of yours. Once you fill it halfway, he clinked your glasses together before taking a sip. His lips meeting the sweet but bitter taste of red wine that you so wished was your lips. The way he curled his lips into his mouth and licking his lips, tasting the flavor had you daydreaming such sultry things about his lips. 

You cleared your throat, breaking yourself out of your gaze. “How are you, H? How’s work?” 

Harry’s cheeks warmed up at the simple nickname. “I’m doing good, yeah. Work is good. The school is great.” This was Harry’s first semester teaching, and he absolutely loved it. He loved being in the classroom setting, interacting and making sure his students understood the material. He wanted to teach elementary kids, but that would require knowing various subjects when he wanted to focus more on ninth grade English. 

“I’m happy for you,” you confessed. You were happy for him, but you wanted to be happy with him. “I know you’re a great teacher, and your students must love you.” You bumped him with your hip gently. 

“They’re great. A couple of them have this weird crush on me for some reason.” 

“I mean how could they not.” You realized you said that out loud, and you’re fully blaming the alcohol and the few glasses of wine that you already had, leaving you with a rosy cheek tint glow. Harry didn’t say anything but smug as he continued to sip on his drink. You slipped past him to join your friends, and Harry followed. Addie gave you a knowing look, hoping to communicate with just her eyes as she saw you and Harry walk out of the kitchen together, and you simply nodded, gesturing that you were okay. 

The rest of the night went by quite fun as the boys helped Addie hang up the rest of her decorations while scoffing and rolling her eyes because they weren’t cooperating. You and Nic were sitting on the floor watching and laughed, pouring yourselves more glasses of wine. Your heart skipped a few beats as you watched Harry the entire time, laughing and smiling, and sometimes looking over at you just to get a simple glance at your face to suffice his heart from the heartache of not being able to hold or kiss you. 

You’ve always liked shopping alone. Shopping with Nic and Addie could be stressful, no matter how much you loved them. You would only go to the shoppes with them if you weren’t looking for anything to buy, but since you were Christmas shopping and the stores were getting busier counting down to Christmas day, you had passed on their invitation to shop with them. There was nobody bugging or nagging you, causing you to get distracted; just you, a basketful of snacks, and Christmas music playing through your headphones. 

You couldn’t wait to give your Secret Santa gift because you’ve put a lot of thought into it ever since you found out who your receiver was. You’ve been doing Secret Santa with your friends since the third year of college. At first, your friends group was only you, Nic, Addie, and Niall—you’ve known Niall since you were sixteen, and you met the girls your first year of uni—until Nic met Elijah during the second semester of junior year, who was quickly accepted, and then you met Harry. 

You’ve all become a close knit of friends, and each and every single one of you have met other people, but there was nothing like this group. With bonding and connecting so well, all you needed was each other, and you couldn’t be more grateful. 

As you were looking at the collection of whiskey, you felt a body brush passed you, slightly bumping into you as they tried getting through the narrow aisle. You jolted forward a tad bit, making you take a step forward to let the person behind you pass through. 

“So sorry,” the familiar voice said. The music playing through your headphones was not even halfway up since you still wanted to be aware of your surroundings, but you could recognize that voice anywhere. 

Turning around to look at the person behind you, sure enough, it was the one and only. 

“Harry?” You called out, taking out your headphones. He turned around, and once he saw you, he immediately smiled. 

“H-Hi. I didn’t expect to see you,” he nervously blurted out a false statement. He knew that this was your go to store and you would always drag him there because they always had your favorite snacks in stock. 

You chuckled. “Yeah, I didn’t expect to see you here either.” Unlike his statement, yours was true. When you were with him, he would always ask you why you couldn’t stop at any of the other shops because this one was on the other side of where you lived. But you simply told him that it was because you would feel like you would be cheating on this store with the others because this was your go-to place, and the employees here were just lovely. 

“Shopping for yourself?” Harry asked. 

You looked down at your basket. “Oh, no. For my Secret Santa. What about you? What are you doing here?” 

“I, uh, I was on this side of town and,” he turned around to face the wine section before grabbing a bottle of Pinot Noir. “Just needed to get this,” he said as he held it up. 

“Night in?” 

“Hmm, yeah,” he nodded. 

“With…someone, or?” You tried your best to not show your anxiousness when you asked him if he was having a night in with someone that’s not you. 

Harry’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “No, no. Not with anyone…” Your shoulders relaxed and a small smile appeared on your face. You slightly nodded your head, containing your relief. “You look great!” He complimented. You were wearing your work attire; a black pencil skirt with a white silk, semi turtleneck long sleeve, and a black coat thrown over. You were also in nude heels, which weren’t the best to shop in, but you had forgotten to bring a change of shoes. 

You blushed. “Thank you. I came here straight from work.” Harry’s brows raised. You were always one for a sense of style, so he wasn’t surprised that you would look this good going to work. 

“Really? How is work going, by the way?” 

“Good, actually. I’m still interning at the law firm, so I’m pretty busy. But overall it’s great! A lot of research, mock cases, and sometimes the interns get to sit and watch in the courtroom. It’s pretty thrilling,” you said excitedly. Harry smiled, missing how you would explain things so eagerly. “This is my last year interning, so hopefully I could work at the law firm I’m already interning at, and become a permanent lawyer there.” 

“I’m sure they’d love to have you there. You’re great, really. They’d be stupid to let you go…” he trailed off. There was a double meaning to his words, and you were wondering if Harry thought he was dumb enough to let you go. Not wanting to dwell on his words any longer, you murmured a soft ‘Thanks’ to him and smiled. Harry nodded, mentally beating himself up over his words and how he was really the stupid one to let you go. 

“I, uh, should go, or my sister will be suspicious,” you chuckled. “I hope you have a great night, Harry.” You grabbed a bottle of whiskey before walking passed him. You weren’t even done shopping, but you couldn’t be in the same room as him without thinking of the memories that had always lingered, making you nostalgic and sad because you don’t know if you would be able to make more memories with him. 

Harry was left alone in the aisle as he watched you walk over to the register to pay for your items. Just when you were done, you looked up, giving him a soft smile and waving at him before you turned around and walked out of the store. Harry’s heart fluttered, but at the same time, it was pounding through his chest. He mentally cursed himself for being so nervous around you, making an awkward tension fill the air. He couldn’t tell you what you were really doing at your store--no, he couldn’t. 

Because what would you say if he told you that he’s been going to your store ever since you two broke up and whenever he’s in town just because it reminded him of you. The four walls somewhat mended his broken heart as he felt comfort inside of the shop because some of his best memories of you are in this very store. And since he couldn’t step into your apartment to immediately feel at home, your favorite store would have to do…for now. 

Right when you entered Addie’s home, you were met with the loud music of the holiday season, along with Addie, Nic, and Elijah singing the lyrics to one another as they jumped and danced with a glass of their preferred alcohol in their hand. 

They hadn’t heard the door open since the music was quite loud, so you took the opportunity to take a quick video of them as you smiled at your lovely friends, who felt so careless at the moment. Once the song ended, you put your phone away, and Eli was the one who spotted you first. 

“Ah, there she is!” He walked over to you, giving you a big hug. You giggled as he slightly picked you up from the ground and twirling you. You were sure that he was already buzzed, and you were wondering how many glasses he’s had already, or if he pregamed by himself to calm himself down for talking to Nic, just like you had done to prepare you for a night with Harry, which you hadn’t done tonight. 

There was a part of you that wanted to take a shot or two to ease your nerves, but you realized that you needed to stop doing that because as far as you know, you and Harry are most likely going to be friends for a long time. So, drinking almost every week did not sound fun to you. 

Nic poured you a glass of wine, clinking your glasses together as you took your first sip of alcohol that night. You helped Addie set up the food onto the table along with some Christmas designed plates and utensils. Just as you were counting the utensils, you heard a loud Santa laugh coming from Niall, making everyone turn their heads towards the door. Niall walked in, carrying a bag-full of presents and Harry followed with a three foil wrapped aluminum trays in his hands as he chuckled at Niall’s way of making himself known. Your face immediately heated up at the sight of your ex-boyfriend because he looked good. 

Although you loved every version of Harry, there was something about Harry Styles in the snowy winter that made your knees weak. He was bundled up in a sweater with a coat tossed over, and he wore boots. His hair was slightly messy from the wind as he shook off the snow that had fallen onto his locks. His nose was always red too, and when he would press a kiss to your cheek, you would feel the icy cold tip of his nose, contrasting to your warm cheeks. And it’s a tragedy that you’ve never spent a winter season with him when you were together, only two Christmases after the breakup. 

Winter Harry was your favorite, and all you wanted to do was snuggle up with him. 

Niall and Harry made their rounds to greet everyone, and Harry would always make sure you were the last one he greeted, just so he could hold and hug you a little longer. 

“Merry Christmas Eve, Eve,” you said once he got to you. He smiled and chuckled, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. You laid your head against his chest, taking in his scent and natural warmth, even though he just came from the cold. “What’d you bring?” You asked once you pulled away. 

“I brought the cheesy garlic bread, brussel sprouts, and crab cakes,” he smiled. 

You gasped. “Your specialty. My mouth is already watering.”’ You clapped your hands in excitement. 

Harry giggled, leaning against the kitchen countertop. “Sure is, and it’s some of your favorite dishes of mine too,” he remembered. You blushed, heart fluttering as he didn’t forget your favorite foods. 

Harry was always a chef of his own; he loved cooking. Learning from Anne, he made it his mission to make his own homemade food after he moved out, and she would always tell him that you could always show your love through food. From there, he learned more about cooking and seemed to love everything about it. Whenever the group has gatherings for special occasions and everyone agrees for a potluck, Harry always made sure to talk to everyone and see what they wanted him to cook. 

When you two were together, he did the majority of the cooking. There would be times when you wanted to help, but he would simply tell you that you needed to let him do it and relax. That was something you loved about him—he was always a giver and didn’t expect to receive anything back, in more than one way. 

You and Harry were definitely ones for staying in, and he would always whip up the best food that was filled with so much love and flavor. 

“Once you two are done loving over there, we’d like some help over here!” Niall called out from the dining area. Your eyes widened as Harry’s cheeks turned pink. Harry held his arm out, gesturing you to go first, and you walked out of the kitchen as he followed behind you.

The group’s attention and eyes were on you and Harry, and your brows furrowed as you mouthed a ‘What?’ at them, and they instantly went back to setting up the food as if nothing happened. You turned around to look at Harry confusingly and he shrugged his shoulders, just as confused. 

The music was playing, the decorations were lit up, and the food was settling into everyone’s stomach, followed by drinks as a warm feeling laid over everyone. It was overall a great time with them as it always was, and since Christmas was coming up in just two days, the merry feeling was always everyone’s moods. 

As everyone was laughing and having a great time, Addie had gotten a knock from her neighbor, asking if everyone could keep the volume down. Everyone was holding in their laugh because you all hadn’t realized how loud you’ve gotten. 

“I’m pretty sure they knew it was going to be a long night when it was just the three of them dancing and screaming,” you pointed out to Addie, Nic, and Elijah, and they all laughed, agreeing. 

“Wait, what?” Niall asked confusingly. 

“Right when I walked in, they were screaming at the top of their lungs. Wait, I have a video.” You pulled your phone out of the front pocket of your sweater and showed Niall the twenty second video. 

He cackled. “Hey, thanks for waiting for us,” he teased, giving your phone back to you. 

You leaned back onto Harry’s leg, since you were sitting on the floor and he was sitting on the chair behind you, and you looked up at him to show him the video. He leaned forward, placing his forearms on his thighs as you shifted closer to him so you were sitting in between his legs. Harry’s lips curled into his mouth, and he was grateful that you weren’t facing him because he was flustered. You pressed play, and he watched as he chuckled, watching his friends have a good time.

“Wait, I also wanted to show you this video,” you mentioned once the video was over. You scrolled through your pictures, and Harry was watching you go through your camera roll. He saw pictures of buildings, food, you and the girls, and some of them were just of you. Before he could really think about your own pictures, you found the video of your family dog and showed Harry. 

As you and Harry were watching the video, your four other friends were eyeing you two and whispering things to each other suspiciously. Nic took a few pictures of the moment because the sight was just so cute, but everyone was wondering when you two were getting back together. 

And you were wondering the same. 

For a few minutes, you and Harry were in your own little world as you two talked about your family; never making the effort to change the position you were in--you had just turned your body so you could see him better. You’ve missed times like these where everything else, outside of the bubble you two created, didn’t seem to matter. The way his eyes gleamed when he talked to you had lulled you in, making you depart from every thought you were trying to create while the only thought that dawdled was Harry. 

“Alright, let’s pass out our Secret Santa gifts before we’re all too drunk,” Niall suggested, popping yours and Harry’s bubble. You moved out of between Harry’s legs to sit beside him where you were before. You looked up at him, softly smiling and he gave you one back. His eyes looked like they wanted to say something, and you so badly wanted to crawl into his mind to know what he was thinking. 

Everyone agreed, getting up to grab their gifts. Addie also grabbed the Santa hat that you had to wear if it was your turn to pass out your gift. The Santa hat had been through four Christamases with the group, and it was the little things that made you happy.

Addie decides to go first since she was the host. She put the Santa hat on before she started. “First one! My Secret Santa is…Elijah!” She walked over to him, giving him her gift as he smiled, thanking her. He opened her gift and gasped as it was a new headset for his PlayStation since he was always talking about how one side was completely dead. Addie placed the hat onto his head as he grabbed his gift. 

“So, this one is for…” he smiled before walking over to the other end of the couch. “Nic.” Her eyes widened, taking the gift from his hands, and he took a seat next to her on the floor. She ripped open the wrapping paper before she paused, looking back at him. It was a large rectangle frame of pictures of her and Eli with a note in the middle saying ‘4 years as best friends, countless laughs, and one question unasked. Will you go on a date with me?’ Nic squealed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. It was like he was proposing to her because she screamed out a loud yes. “Life is too damn short. I can’t wait to go another day without calling you my girl, so I wanted to take my chances,” he told her. You smiled at them, realizing it’s been too long, and you were so happy for them. 

It was Nic’s turn, which she completely forgot about because she was so overjoyed, and she walked up to Harry to give him her gift. He thanked her before opening it, receiving a set of nail polish, a few face masks, a vanilla candle, and a gift card to one of his favorite restaurants. 

Harry was up, and he was a bit nervous for this one. You knew that it could either be you, Niall, or Addie since you were the three left without gifts. He stood in front of the fireplace as everyone looked at him. You thought he looked absolutely adorable in that Santa hat, which you think every single year. He slowly walked over to Niall, making him beam, but turned around and walked over to you, earning a ‘Hey!’ from Niall. 

“Merry Christmas Eve, Eve,” Harry greeted you, handing you your gift. You smiled brightly, grabbing the box. It was a quite heavy box with brown wrapping paper with reindeers on it and a large red bow. “I wrapped it myself,” he smirked, playfully flipping his shirt hair, and you giggled. 

You ripped the paper and opened the box, eyes softening. In the box, there was a graphic tee, your —and his—favorite fresh perfume by Jo Malone, five pens with your first and last name engraved in the middle, a Cravings cookbook from Chrissy Teigen and a yellow and white vertical striped apron with the words ‘Summer Lovin’ with a sun embroidered at the top. Your eyes watered at the words at the special but emotional meaning behind it. 

Two months before you and Harry broke up, you knew it was the end. You both agreed that you would spend two months together before you had to part ways with one another. It was the most special and fun summer you ever had, but emotionally, it was the worst. Knowing that you weren’t going to be together anymore by the end of it was behind the facade of the endless laughter and love. You really didn’t want it to be over, but you understood and needed to grow separately and blossom with your careers. 

The words behind the embroidered apron was from one summer night. You and Harry had a bonfire at the beach, and you were cuddled up with him as he held a blanket around the both of you. You had tequila disguised like water as you held your bottle up to the best summer loving. You wished the circumstances were different, but if it’s meant to be, then he’ll come back to you. 

“You’ve always wanted to learn how to cook and I’ve seen that you’re starting to on your Instagram stories, so I thought these were the perfect things to get you so you could be a proper chef now,” he said with a soft smile. 

Harry truly paid attention to the small details of your life. Together or not, he intently listened and observed without anyone knowing. He nailed it down to the small details; from the perfume, the pens, and the apron. The sentiment behind it was what made the gift so special, and the person who gifted it to you completed and made it so much better. 

As your vision had gone glassy, you sat on your knees, reaching up at Harry for a hug. He bent down to your eye level, sitting on his knees as well as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders. You held him tightly, sniffling into his shoulder as a rush of overwhelming emotions hit you. Your heart fluttered and pounded at the same time—a feeling that was familiar to your body when it came to Harry. 

“Thank you so much. This is the most thoughtful gift ever,” you said into his shoulder. This gift was number two on the list of gifts you’ve received from him, following Harry himself as your number one, of course. 

Harry pulled his head back slightly to press a kiss to the side of your head. The gesture had made your heart swoon and you smiled against his shoulder. Everyone was watching you two interact, and they all thought this was finally the moment where you two would get back together again. They’ve all seen you two suffer enough being without each other, along with the heavy tension that there was. All they wanted was for you both to be happy. 

You pulled away from him, looking up at his green eyes as they stared into you. He offered you a small smile that took your breath away before he wrapped one arm around your shoulder, bringing you into his side as he wasn’t quite done holding you. 

After a few minutes, your friends had let you have your moment before Niall complained how he didn’t have a gift yet. You and Harry chuckled, letting go of one another, and he placed the Santa hat onto your head before you slowly started walking over to Niall. When you handed him his gift, he cheered happily before opening it. You had given him several customized guitar pics with his initials printed onto them, a leather notebook since he liked to write songs, and Proper 12 Irish Whiskey, which was fitting because he’s Irish and he likes Connor McGregor. He thanked you with a big hug, picking you up off the ground with one arm as he held the alcohol bottle in the other. 

Addie was the last one who hadn’t received a gift, and Niall was her Secret Santa. He gave her a bunch of makeup with your help, and a tupperware set, which she had been asking for since everyone always took her containers because she liked hosting so many parties. 

The rest of the night had gone on for a few more hours before everyone was pretty tired, deciding to call it a night. Everyone helped clean up, making sure to help Addie with the dishes and putting or throwing stuff away. Although you were cleaning, you loved your entire group. This was your family--the closest people to you. The ones who know everything about you and would laugh at you when you fall before falling with you. You were entirely grateful for everyone in this room, and you couldn’t have asked for a better group to spend more holidays and days with. 

After the cleaning was done, Niall and Eli started to head out, not before Eli was satisfied with the amount of goodbyes he gave Nic with how long the hug was. Niall had to physically pull him off, telling him the Uber was outside. 

You were washing your hands before Harry walked over next to you, handing you a towel to dry off your hands. “Thank you,” you muttered, shyly smiling. 

“Uh, I wanted to ask if you wanted to come over?” He proposed. Your brows raised at his question. You and the girls had planned on having a sleepover after, but the prospect of going home with Harry had sounded much better (no offense to your friends). 

“I was planning to sleepover here…” you decided to innocently tease, even though you knew you were going to say yes. 

“I already asked them, and they said I could take you. I could drop you back off here if you want. So, the answer is up to you,” he smirked. A blush appeared onto your cheeks, admiring the fact that he asked your friends for permission if he could take you home. 

“There’s bound to be talk tomorrow,” you teased, lightly nudging him.

“I’ll take my chances,” he smiled, a hopeful look presented on his face. 

You breathed out a chuckle, looking at him for a moment before you nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go.” Harry’s eyes widened as the corners of his lips turned up. You grabbed your phone and your coat before walking over to Addie and Nic who were both cuddled up on the couch, saying goodbye to them. They sent you a playful wink, and you rolled your eyes as nerves startled to settle in your stomach. 

You followed Harry out of the door, the cold air brisking past you as you walked to his car. He opened the passenger and you thanked him before getting in. Harry started the car and the song that was playing was ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside.’ It was a song you loved ever since you were a little girl, and you remembered the times you and your mom would always sing it in the car. You smiled at the memory, humming as you hoped it would be a way to distract you from the anxious feeling that you have. 

You started humming to the tune as quietly as you possibly could, but Harry heard it as he started to hum it as well. You looked at him through your peripheral vision, noticing that he started to tap his fingers against the steering wheel. 

You were about to start singing until you noticed that he pulled into his driveway, so you contained yourself and closed your coat, getting out of the car as you followed him into his home. You’ve only been inside his home three times--those three times being when he would suggest everyone hang out there. It was a lovely place and whenever you were sitting on his couch, you had wished you shared the space with him. 

Harry lit up the fireplace, placing the metal shield in front of it before turning back towards you and smiling. “Make yourself comfortable. I’m just going to get us some hot chocolate, if that’s alright?” He asked, wanting to know your preferred drink. 

“Sound good.” You hung your coat onto the coat rack before walking over to his turquoise velvet couch and taking a seat, getting comfortable to an extent, not knowing how comfortable you should get. 

Not long after, Harry came back with a wooden tray, and he placed it on the coffee table in front of you. There were two mugs filled with milk, two hot chocolate kits, and spoons. 

“I made these for my students, and I just so happened to have two extra kits, so this will be fun,” he smiled, and you gave him one back appreciatively. You thought that it was cute and sweet of him to give something to his students for the holiday season. Normally, teachers don’t give them anything, but Harry wasn’t just any other teacher. 

A somewhat comfortable silence fell over you two as you both made your own hot chocolate, and you listened to the fireplace roar. Once you two were done, you clicked your glasses together before taking a sip. The warm and comforting drink made you smile and was overall delicious. 

Harry didn’t know what to say or how to say what he really wanted to say. It felt like he had non stop thoughts running through his head, but when he opened his mouth to start, there was a delay. An overwhelming feeling took over him and he wanted to yell at himself for not saying how he really felt. 

“Y/N-” 

“Harry.” 

Just like before, your minds had been in sync, causing you both to speak at the same time. A light laugh came out of both of your mouths. 

“You go first,” you told him. 

Harry took a deep breath. “How’re you doing?” He asked. Out of everything he could have said, that was the only question that came out of his mouth, but he figured it’s a good start to getting somewhere. 

“Truthfully?” He nodded. “I’m doing okay. I’ve managed to distract myself from worrying about the future with work, and so far, it’s been helping.” 

“What are you worried about?” Harry wondered curiously. He could feel his heart pounding through his chest, and if he’s being honest, it’s been that way the first time he saw you…ever. 

“Worried if I’m gonna be where I want to be career wise, and…” you trailed off. 

“And what?” He encouraged you to continue. His stare was so intimidating and deep that the words flew off your tongue, making them unforgettable. “Ba--Y/N?” He called out for you, noticing how he almost slipped up and called you ‘baby,’ and you so wished he hadn’t stopped himself. 

You finally mustered up the courage to speak your thoughts. “I’m afraid that I’m gonna be alone,” you said honestly. 

Harry’s brows furrowed, shaking his head instantly. “You’re not alone, no. You have your family, all of us--your friends, me-” 

“You?” Your brows raised. 

“Yeah-” 

“Harry, you’re the reason why I’m so worried…” you confessed. You were starting to get frustrated--not at Harry, but at yourself because you had planned to have this conversation a different day. You tried to calm yourself down, and Harry could practically see that you were getting angry at yourself. You had a certain stressful and frustrated look that he would notice when you started to beat yourself up over things. And throughout the months of being with you, especially when you were in the midst of law school, he learned how to calm you down. 

Harry placed his hand on your knee; the touch being unexpected to you, but it had brought you immediate comfort. He pulled you into his side and you rested your head on his shoulder, looping your arm under his, the one that’s on your leg, and hugged his arm. Harry’s other hand touched your arm, caressing and soothing you. His actions had felt very natural and familiar to him. He would comfort you like this when you were feeling stressed. Normally, he wanted to cuddle you tightly, but this was your preferred way to calm down because in a way, he was still holding you, and you were still in control and didn’t feel like you were suffocating if he had held you tightly.

You stayed like that for a few moments, and you had calmed down a bit already, but you just wanted to be close to him and cherish the moment. 

After a few minutes, you pulled away and turned towards him, smiling softly. Your heart warmed at the fact that he remembered exactly what to do when you started to feel anxious, and you may have fallen in love with him even more…after all these years. 

“Now, wanna tell me why you’re so worried?” He asked softly, not wanting his tone to be pressuring, and you’re grateful for it.

“I’m worried I’m going to have to live a life without you. It terrifies me to think about you going out and meeting someone, and I would have to watch you get married to someone else that’s not me. That you would be sharing this home with someone that’s not me.” Your eyes start to water, and you had mentally told yourself that you wouldn’t cry, but you didn’t believe yourself in the slightest. “Watching you love someone else is going to be the most difficult thing I would have to do.” 

Your tears had fully fallen down your face, which is unfortunate because you both had such a good day with your friends and it was nearly Christmas. Quickly wiping your tears away, you got up from the couch, and headed towards the door. Harry was confused until he saw you grab your coat, putting it on. In a flash, Harry got up from the couch, walking towards you. 

“W-What are you doing?” He asked. 

“I really can’t stay…” you told him sadly. You had no idea how you were getting home or back to Addie’s since it’s snowing, so you don’t know if there were any Ubers out, especially at this time. “This evening has been…so very nice, Harry.”

“You don’t have to leave. Baby, it’s cold outside, c’mon,” he pleaded with worried eyes. Your heart melted at his words and the name that he used to call you, making you pause in your movement. 

“Please,” he pleaded softly, taking a small step forward, and your breath hitched in your throat as you looked up at him. There was a dead silence between you two that was tension filled, and you had no clue what was going to happen next until he opened his mouth. 

“Mind if I move in closer?” He whispered. The sound would barely be audible if anyone else was there, so he said those words specifically for you to hear. 

You shook your head, and he took another step forward. Your bodies were a centimeter away from being pressed up against one another, and your heart was beating so fast, making your hands shake and tremble. He looked down at you so intently that you were under his spell, and you were conflicted as you wish you knew how to break the spell as his green eyes looked deep into you, luring you in even more. 

You took a deep breath. “Kiss me already,” you breathed out. Harry’s heart nearly stopped at your words, but he slightly smirked as he blushed, brushing your hair behind your ears before taking your face into your hands and leaning down to place a deep and passionate kiss onto your lips. 

This feeling, this touch, this man was what you’ve been waiting for these past two years. Throughout those years, you felt like giving up; accepting the fact that he wasn’t going to love you again. But he had proved you wrong in the simple brush of his lips and tongue that were in sync with yours, making the spark between you grow bigger and bigger. The spark that had never lost its power, but was on pause.

You grabbed a fistful of his shirt, pulling him closer as the other hand was wrapped around his back. Harry had you pushed up against his front door, and you had the urge to lift your leg up to wrap it around him, but you resisted. 

Harry wanted more, too. His hands trailed down from your face to your back, closing the nonexistent proximity between you, and guided you back to the couch. You were walking backwards, completely trusting him that he wouldn’t let you fall as his lips never left yours. 

You giggled once the back of your legs hit the couch, falling onto the soft material as Harry hovered over you, laying in between your legs. He looked at you for a moment, studying every freckle, the crimson color on your cheeks, the curve when you smile, your glimmering eyes, and your cute nose. He knew that it was exactly how he remembered. After a couple of years being separated, a beautiful face like yours was hard to forget. 

“You’re quite crazy to think I’d want to live the rest of my life with someone else when you’re right in front of me,” he suddenly said. Your eyes widened at his confession. “Never wanna be without you ever again. Thought you didn’t want to be with me when I came back, so I just didn’t bother. But you have no idea how much I missed you. I missed you so much.” 

He placed soft kisses all around your face as he spoke, leaving you feeling so tender and soft as he was so gentle with you. For someone who’s on her way to becoming a lawyer and always having to have an answer for everything, you were speechless. The words that you’ve been waiting for for so long were music to your ears. It rolled off his tongue so smoothly, slick like honey, and you connected your lips with his again, swirling your tongue against his as you devoured his words. Hands finding their way to his hair, you gripped on his locks and pulled just the way he liked it, earning a groan from him, and you smirked against his mouth. 

You pulled back, leaving him breathless. Swollen lips, blushed cheeks, and smiles plastered on his face, you said the words you’ve been itching to say. “I love you,” you blurted out. The words had rolled off your tongue so effortlessly, making shivers run down Harry’s spine as his eyes watered up. “I was listening to Elijah earlier, and he’s right. Life’s too fucking short to not have what you want.” 

He took one of your hands into his, bringing it up to his lips before placing a kiss onto the back of your hand. Your other hand was playing with the curls that laid delicately on his hands, scratching it lightly. 

“Missed hearing you say those words.” He smiled, tears making their way down his face. “I love you too. So, so much that you have no idea how I feel when you walk into the room and I see your beautiful face. I love you. I love you. I love you, baby.” His affirmations had caused you to softly sob—the two of you a crying mess from the obvious but unspoken love that was finally being released again. “It’s always been you. You’ve always been my girl, did you know that?” You tilted your head a bit. “Never gonna go a day without reminding you that you are, because you’ve never not been my girl. Had to love and admire you from afar, but just wanted to hold you and kiss you.” 

“You can kiss and hold me all you want now, my love,” you reassured him, and he dug his face into your neck, placing a soft kiss against your skin. 

You smiled so brightly as your heart felt so happy and overflowed with love, and he matched your grin, feeling the same way. 

The two of you kissed each other for a bit more, whispering sweet words, and laughed and talked about anything and everything—truly catching up with one another. 

“Oh.” He got off of you, making you slightly pout from the weight of laying on you that you already missed. “I actually got you another gift.” 

“Harry…you already got me enough.” It was true. Along with the thoughtful gift, he was your true Christmas miracle. 

“I know. But this one, I wanted to give to you in private, and this is the perfect moment, so let me do this?” He looked at you with sweet and pleading eyes with a small smile on his face. Who could ever say no to that adorable face? Certainly not you. 

You nodded, and he shot up, heading towards the stairs. “Give me thirty seconds,” he said before rushing up the stairs. 

You heard him shuffling up there, and the sound of a drawer opening and closing. Thirty seconds later, he was walking downstairs, holding a white box wrapped in a red bow. He sat back down next to you, looking into your eyes as he spoke. 

“This is what I wanted to give you when we were alone. It didn’t matter the outcome of how things turned out between us tonight, I just wanted to give you this because I think you’ll appreciate it. It reminded me of you when I saw it, and I knew I had to get it.” He handed you the box with slightly shaky hands. 

You untied the bow, taking the top off. A gasp came from your mouth as you picked up the chain. It was a little gold sun pendant, symbolizing your summer together. You studied the charm for a moment, delicately touching it as you teared up at the meaning behind it. It matched quite well with your embroidered apron, and the two together would be quite the match. 

“Thank you, Harry. This is so sweet of you.” You leaned forward, giving him a hasty kiss to his lips, smiling against them. “Help me put it on?” He nodded eagerly. You handed him the necklace before turning around, lifting your hair. You felt the cool metal chain hit your skin along with Harry’s lingering touches across your shoulders, causing your skin to pebble. He placed a quick kiss to your neck before pulling away. You turned around to meet his eyes as you smiled. 

“Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.” He kissed your forehead. “I’m so happy. Merry Christmas Eve, Eve, baby.” 

“Merry Christmas Eve, Eve, my love.” 

You cuddled into his side as the silence took over. The only thing was heard was the pounding of your love-filled hearts along with the cracking of the fire. Sure, it was cold outside, but right here in Harry’s arms, you were warmer than ever. 

please come into my inbox and talk about your thoughts and feelings on this! also feedback is appreciated, thank you for reading! <3

[0097linersb]

Pink Lemonade

CHAPTER 3

Pairings: Jaemin x Renjun x Haechan x Jeno x Mark x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Humor (I guess), Slow burn af

Summary: The dreamies decide to spend some weeks at an Inn in the middle of the nature to relax and enjoy some outdoor adventures, far away from their crazy idol life. What they didn’t expect was the nice girl running said Inn.

Word count: 4.1k

A/N: hEy guys, I’m SO sorry for 1. taking so long for this shitty chapter and 2. I will no longer be tagging new people simply because I am so lost and I feel like I will miss half of the people who asked so I don’t want to make anyone feel forgotten or upset

THIS ISN’t PROOF READ I SUCK I KNOW I hate thIS STORY

☼  previous / next  ☼

The next morning you woke up before Jeno, you tried to silently sneak out to give him the chance of pretending nothing happened, in case he decided it had all been a drunken mistake and it should be forgotten. Your plan was proven kind of difficult with the whole having to untangle yourself from the man and unzipping the tent open situation, bright sun rays suddenly filling the space. You winced at the light and tried to quickly close the door back up, startled by a groaning sleepy Jeno who confusedly sat up and rubbed his eyes, “What’s going on?”

“Sorry, I was just trying to get out,” You apologized.

“Oh, ok. What time is it?”

“I have no idea, my phone died.”

The man searched for his phone among the covers and sighed when he realized he had run out of battery too. You awkwardly stared at each other, not really knowing if one of you should bring up what had happened or just casually move on.

“I don’t think the others are up yet,” You tried to start a conversation before the tension could swallow you up.

“Probably not. I’m still sleepy though, could go for a morning nap,” He smiled before lying back down, you were thankful he was trying to end the awkwardness too.

“I love morning naps.”

“Come join?” He asked with hopeful eyes and you nodded before practically throwing yourself back into his side, careful to not touch him in case he wasn’t interested and you didn’t want to impose yourself. You turned your back to Jeno and closed your eyes, ready to fall asleep in seconds, but was surprised when you felt the man’s arm silently wrapping around your waist and his chest pressing against your back before lazily whispering a “Good night” against the back of your neck. You smiled contently to yourself, hearing Jeno’s breathing get heavier and slower as sleep took over him, following his steps soon after.

The second time you woke up, was to a screaming Jisung. You and Jeno both jumped awake, startled, before running outside thinking there was a snake or something dangerous like that. The two of you were soon staring at the young boy judgingly, looking between him and the cockroach on the floor.

“Jisung, it’s dead,” Jeno sighed, trying to not get annoyed at the young man.

“It’s still moving!” He whined, still refusing to go down from the camping chair.

“They do that,” You sighed too, giving up on trying to make sense of the situation and approaching the boy with your hand out to help him down. “C’mon, help me to put the things back in the truck so we can go back to the Inn.”

Jisung reluctantly did as you said and Jeno started to wake up the others, everyone folded their tents and picked up the trash in silence, too tired and hungover to play around. If looked from afar, one might have you mistaken for extras on a zombie movie.

As you arrived back at the Inn, everyone crawled into their rooms without muttering a single word. You took advantage of the moment to take a shower since you were still in your bikins and Jaemin’s sweater, feeling completely disgusting after a day (mostly a night) of sweating. You were deep in your nirvana state of mind, enjoying the hot water relaxing your muscles and finally cleaning your hair of all that lake water, when you heard a bang at the door. You jumped in shock and looked over at the door instantly.

“Whoever is there, please let me in, I really need to pee!” Jisung screamed, fist still knocking on the door in urgency.

“You can use the bathroom downstairs!”

“Cockroaches,” He squealed before letting out a loud whine. “Please, I’m going to explode.”

You lightly groaned at the inconvenience before quickly shutting the water down and wrapping your towel around you, opening the door and signaling to Jisung that the bathroom was all his. He banged the door shut and you leaned against the hallway wall, waiting to return to your very good shower that you were missing very much after experiencing the chilly wind outside.

“Is there anything wrong?” Jaemin asked after opening his door, seeming like he had just woken up from a deep slumber.

You tried to act casually, like you weren’t standing around in just a towel, “Everything’s awesome.”

Jaemin had his mouth open to start saying something else when another door opened, an annoyed Haechan appearing behind it, “Who’s yelling and why?”

“Jisung needed to use the bathroom,” You explained, feeling way to exposed and embarrassed to elaborate.

“Can’t a guy ever sleep in peace?” Renjun’s suddenly appeared from his room, whining at his friends and rubbing at his eyes sleepily.

“Ok, can everyone please stay inside their rooms for the next 30 seconds?!” You requested loudly in frustration, kind of laughing internally at the way Jeno was midway through opening his door before muttering a sorry and closing it back in super speed.

“Yeah, sorry,” Renjun apologized before going back to his nap, but you didn’t miss the way he gave you a once-over first.

“Enjoy your shower,” Jaemin smiled at you before copying his friend.

Haechan simply stood there staring at you and you looked at him in expectation and a ting of annoyance. The man smirked at you before winking, “Looking good.”

“Yeah, and very much naked, so if you could like, just go inside for a minute,” You politely requested.

“But that’s very much what I’d like to see,” He playfully flirted with a low voice so no one would hear, slowly approaching you. He gave you no time to react as he looked down at your chest, right hand suddenly pinching your hardened nipple and you gasped in surprise, “Cold?”

He looked up at you with a teasing look and you nodded with furrowed eyebrows, confused as to what he was playing. Haechan whispered a “cute” against your ear before returning to his room with a smirk, right on time for Jisung to open the door, “Thank you so much! I’m sorry for interrupting your shower. I think I had the content of two whole wine bottles in my bladder.”

“It’s ok,” You assured him absently, still bothered by Haechan’s antics. You honestly had thought he was all bark and no bite, you two have been playfully flirting since day one and you had guessed it was just part of your friendship dynamic considering you both always laughed about it.

Well, you could do nothing about it except from seeing where life would take you two.

            _____________________________________________

After showering, you prepared some yogurt bowls with fruits and granola for breakfast, figuring you could all have a late lunch. Jaemin came downstairs after an hour and helped you out, stopping you from murdering another poor orange.

“Do you think everyone will be up for an activity today?” You asked, hoping they would opt for a more relaxing afternoon, as you were pretty much tired and hungover yourself.

Jaemin softly laughed, “If the activity is dying on the floor of the living room, yes.”

“Oh, thank god.”

“Slept late?” He raised an eyebrow at you and you almost dropped the knife you were holding.

Does he know?

“I went to bed right after you did, red wine is just not my friend,” You awkwardly laughed, trying to calm your mind down. He couldn’t have heard anything over the loud singing yesterday and Jeno probably didn’t tell him.

Jaemin said nothing to that and you both enjoyed a semi-comfortable silence until he offered, “Want me to teach you how to peel an orange?”

“Theoretically speaking I know how to do it, I just can’t make my hands actually work,” You laughed, but moved closer so he could show you anyways.

“I’ll teach you an easier way then, it’s not ideal but it’s better than losing half of the orange,” He teased and you glared at him. “You just have to cut it in half like this, and then like this. Actually you can cut it as many times as you want to. When they are in slices like this you can just use your fingers to pull the peel away.”

“Oh, I think I can do that,” You exclaimed in excitement, “Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Hey, do you by any chance have more of that pineapple cake?”

“Chenle finished it but I can go to town to buy some more when we’re done with this. You can come along if you want to, they have a lot of options.”

“That sounds great.”

The two of you managed to quickly finish decorating the bowl, even adding some pretty flowers Jaemin went out to pick on top of it. After placing it all in the fridge so it wouldn’t become a mess until the others woke up, you scribbled down a note letting them know you had gone to the city and would be right back before heading outside to the car.

“Can I drive?” Jaemin asked jokingly, knowing your car was very dear to you.

“If you crash it, you’re giving me that watch,” You rolled your eyes, throwing the keys at him, who looked surprised at your compliance but laughed excitedly when catching the keys. His watch was probably worth more than your car anyways.

You hesitantly climbed into the passenger seat and tried to not say anything as Jaemin left the property in reverse, you hated riding shotgun.

He did look kind of hot, though.  

“I know how to drive, you know? You don’t have to grip the handles so tight,” The man laughed once you were already on the road.

“I’m just not used to not being the one behind the wheel,” You apologized, forcing yourself to relax your hands on your lap so you wouldn’t offend a man’s driving’s skills. “Turn right on that street. Did you enjoy skiing?”

“I did, yesterday was just a fun day as a whole. You also looked really pretty in my sweater,” He looked at you softly and It took a lot of control for you to not melt into the seat.

“I’m giving it back as soon as I wash it, by the way. Thank you again for not letting me freeze.”

“Don’t worry. You can keep it, it looked better on you.”

“Jaemin, I know you’re trying to be a gentleman and all but that’s a Balenciaga swea-“

“And I’d like for you to have it.”

“I’m really living everyone’s fanfic’s dreams, aren’t I?” You giggled softly.

“Do you read those?” Jaemin chuckled.

“Of course. I live in the middle of nowhere, anything to pass the time. Follow that Sunny Mountain sign.”

“Ok. You should teach me how to find those, I’m curious as to what our fans write about us.”

“Uh, you really shouldn’t.”

“Dirty stuff?”

“Lots of it, probably.”

Jaemin laughed at that but said nothing more, deciding to pay attention to the road for once. You were distracted trying to find a cool Spotify playlist on your phone when you felt the man’s hand on your thigh, he didn’t move it and he didn’t look at you, just staring straight ahead with a casual demeanor like it was something you did all the time. You said nothing about it, just enjoyed the touch and followed his lead.

As you arrived at the city, you directed Jaemin around until you were parking right in front of the little traditional bakery.

“Good morning, Mary. Looking beautiful as always,” You complimented the old lady behind the counter, who you have known since you were a little girl. “Please tell me you made some pineapple cake.”

“My dear, if I didn’t I would run out of business,” Mary laughed. “I’ll wrap one up for you.”

“Thank you. Jaem, do you want to try something else?” You asked, pointing to the display in front of you full of a variety of cakes, which this region was famous for.  “This is a banana one, it’s so good. The wine one is also tasty.”

Jaemin shivered at the word wine and you laughed because honestly, same.

“The banana one sounds good,” He agreed.

“Mary, I’ll take one half banana, half peach.”

The boy looked at you surprised that you remembered his favorite fruit and you just smiled at him, showing you were also paying attention.

“On it. Is that your boyfriend? I’ve been praying for you to find someone to keep you company in that big old house for ages,” The lady started, taking the cakes from the displays to cut them for you.

“He’s handsome, isn’t he?” You joked, winking at Jaemin who gave you a teasing smile back. “But unfortunately he’s just a guest at the Inn.”

“Oh, that’s unfortunate, but it’s a pleasure to meet you anyways. Maybe it’s better this way, my Gus would be jealous.”

You laughed in joy at the mention of your childhood summer friend, “How is he? I miss him!”

“He’s doing amazing,” She answered with a smile when talking about her grandson, placing the cakes’ halves on a plastic plate. “He just graduated last year, rented me a fancy dress and all.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that! I need to congratulate him. When he’s back in town, can you ask him to drop by the Inn really quickly? We’re having some internet problems as always.”

“Of course, dear. He will love that, I bet he’ll come around by the weekend. Here’s your cakes! I’ll put it on your account.”

Jaemin helped you getting one of the boxes from the balcony and you got the other.

“Thank you, Mary! Have a nice day!”

“You kids too!”

You carefully placed the cakes on the back seats, wrapping the seatbelts around it so they wouldn’t move during the transportation as Jaemin looked around, appreciating the view.

“The city is pretty cute, right?”

“It is, actually. Is that an ice cream place?”

“Kind of. But they do have an ice cream buffet.”

“That sounds awesome, can we go there?”

“I guess the cakes won’t go bad in the car if we’re quick.”

“They won’t, it’s kind of cold today.”

“Right? I thought I was sick or something,” You complained, pouting at the temperature change.

“Here, let’s go freeze,” Jaemin laughed, wrapping one of his arms around your shoulders and leading you across the street.

                              ______________________________

You figured you liked Jaemin. As in, you really liked Jaemin. He was just so easy to talk to and a genuine funny caring guy – You didn’t see much of those anymore.

What was supposed to be a quick trip to the town turned into a 2 hour long tour around all the little spots the city had to offer, playfully taking photos of each other like you were in a romantic movie or something.  When you finally went back to the Inn, your heart was swollen and your cheeks were hurting from smiling too much.

“Be right back my ass,” Haechan welcomed you with a grunt.

“We took long but we brought cake,” You pinched his pouting face.

“Ok, I forgive you.”

“Are you guys hungry?”

“For cake? Yes,” Jisung excitedly exclaimed.

“I meant for real food, it’s past lunch time.”

“We actually just ate breakfast, Jeno is still sleeping,” Renjun informed.

“It’s ok, I’ll cook today,” Jaemin messed with your hair and you glared at him.

“No, you won’t. You’re a guest here.”

“And I’m a great cook, so get your ass back in bed and I’ll call you when I’m done.”

“That’s rude of you, Na Jaemin,” You joked.

“Learning from the best.”

You glared at him but decided to accept your fate. After your nap with Jeno and your shower, you were not sleepy anymore, so you decided to invite the rest to sunbathe in the lower deck by the lake. Haechan and Mark were happy to join and the three of you sprawled around under the blue sky after changing into your bathing suits. You were struggling to get sunscreen on your back and Mark silently asked for the tube in your hand, doing It for you as Haechan blabbed about League of Legends – It was really hard to hide the chills across your skin when you were wearing basically no clothes.

After Mark got over being awkward because of your exposed skin, he was actually one of the most fun people to be around that you had ever hung out with. He literally laughed and got excited over everything you and Haechan said and it made you feel special, you definitely understood his charms now. Also, with him being from Canada and all, you two had a lot more in common than you had imagined, which was revitalizing.

Soon enough, both boys started bickering over something and you just closed your eyes and tried to drift off, this was supposed to be relaxing time. But then again, it was hard to put relaxing and Haechan in the same sentence.

After what seemed like ten minutes of the men next to you arguing, you suddenly heard your name and opened your eyes begrudgingly with a “Huh?”

“Help us. Who’s right?” Haechan asked.

“I ain’t even listening, I’m sorry.”

“Haechan over here seems to think he has a bigger chance with you than I do,” Mark smirked and you chocked around air. What kind of demon possessed Mark Lee’s body?

“Of course I do, don’t I?” It was Haechan’s turn to smirk at you and you just stared between them totally lost. They were arguing about song lyrics a few minutes ago, what the fuck happened? “So? Who’s right?”

“Huh?”

“You heard me,” Haechan lifted an eyebrow at you in a challenging way.

“Let her speak,” Mark cut him off and you felt goosebumps up your body once again at his strict tone. Damn, that was definitely not expected from Mark Lee.

“This is very unprofessional,” You muttered in shock, not really knowing what to say.

“Oh, c’mon. You think I didn’t hear your little show with Jeno the other night?” Mark laughed darkly and you shrank into yourself.

“What? What happened with Jeno?” Haechan asked confused.

“Nothing,” You quickly inform, trying to end that conversation.

Mark tsks and softly put your hair behind your ear, looking at you with endearing eyes, “Our pretty Y/N had some fun times with Jeno in their tent, didn’t she? Tell Haechan.”

You gulped and turned to Haechan, only nodding in shame because you were not about to admit you sucked his friend out loud. The boy’s eyes only widened and you could see Mark’s smirk from the corner of your eyes, what a wicked man.

“Guess none of us have a chance, then. Since Jeno got to you first,” Mark played and you briskly shook your head, feeling how you were already pulsing between your legs. The man raised an eyebrow at your reaction, like it wasn’t what he had planned, “Oh?”

“Please,” Was all that you managed to let out. Too embarrassed to elaborate.

“Kiss her,” He ordered and you noticed he was talking to Haechan, who smiled widely before bending down to capture your lips.

His kiss was playful like his personality, his hand found its place behind your neck and he lightly nibbled on your bottom lip with his teeth, not allowing you to deepen the kiss like you wanted to. When you whined in frustration, you felt his smirk against your lips before he harshly grabbed your hair and pulled you closer, his tongue finally against yours.

Well, this was not how you expected your day to turn out.

You were so focused on how good it felt to melt into Haechan, that you jumped in shock when you felt Mark’s fingers playing with your bikini bottoms.

“Look how wet she it, Haechan,” He commented like he was hypnotized by the view and you two broke the kiss so he could look at where his friend was staring. Mark’s middle finger started to lightly circle your clit over the fabric and you moaned, hiding your face in shame. You were probably about to have sex. No, not sex. A threesome. With your guests!!!

“Y/N.”

“What?” You groaned.

“Y/N!”

You uncovered your eyes annoyed only to find Haechan and Mark staring at you weirdly, sitting up on their own beach towels like well-behaved boys.

“Did I fall asleep?” You asked confused.

“Yeah, we thought you were having a nightmare so we decided to wake you up,” Mark explained softly and you gulped.

“Thank you, it was horrible,” You lied, heart beating fast and chest heaving.

Mark and Haechan went back to arguing while you tried to recompose yourself, but as soon as Haechan shot you a knowing smirk, you quickly got up and left, figuring you could play cards with Renjun or something.

                                            ____________________________________

Jaemin didn’t lie when he said he was a good cook, and not only that, but he was also an organized worker, washing and cleaning everything right after using it. What a dreamy man. You were still too bothered over having a weird wet dream with your guests, who were right beside you, to think much about how amazing Jaemin was.

After everyone had lunch (and you decided to sit far far away from your sunbathing partners, safely cuddled between Chenle and Jisung at the end of the table), you washed all the dishes left while Jeno dried them, thankful that you two managed to not let things go south after your little encounter.

The Inn still had no internet so there was nothing much you could do with everyone being tired, so like Jaemin predicted, you all sprawled around the living room’s floor and played some games. After a few hours, you started getting tired of playing and turned the Tv on, trying to find the least terrible channel the Tv’s antenna could pick up, settling on a game show that got everyone pretty excited. Somehow you ended lying on Jaemin’s chest and you noticed Jeno giving you a look but couldn’t quite catch what he meant with it. He seemed normal with you after it, so you decided to let it go, realizing you were only overthinking things.

For dinner, you all had some leftovers from lunch and lots of cake. You had spent so many hours talking that you felt like you have known these boys since forever, or at least you wanted to. There was just not a moment around them when you weren’t laughing or smiling, and besides the obvious sexual tension moments, it felt really comfortable to be around them. Of course they could be annoying and inconvenient at times, they were men after all, but it was not hard to get over that.

Surprisingly enough, even after sleeping until way past noon, the boys were still tired and went to bed early with the promise of fun adventures for the next day. You and Renjun stayed back in the balcony talking about life and art, looking at the stars and drinking a glass of wine. It was nice sharing your deep thoughts with someone who matched your intensity and excitement, Renjun was indeed an artist and you loved experiencing the universe with him for a night.

When it was around 1 in the morning, the two of you said goodnight with a soft smile, knowing you two now shared a bond.

Entering your room and turning the lights on, you were surprised to find Jeno playing with his phone on your bed.

“Hey,” You offered confused.

He gave you an eye smile before dropping his phone on the bed, “Hey.”

“So, you’re in my room…”

“Just wanted to ask if I could sleep with you, it’s nice.”

“Oh, ok. Yeah, I’d like that. Let me just change,” You agreed and laughed at the way Jeno covered his eyes when you grabbed on the hem of your shirt and pulled it off, “I think we’re way past that, Jeno Lee.”

“Sorry, it’s automatic,” He explained as he dropped his hands back on the bed, watching you silently as you changed into your pajamas. You sleepily climbed into bed next to the man, both of you lying on your sides and staring at each other. “You’re so pretty.”

“Thank you,” You softly breathed out. This seemed all too familiar.

He delicately pressed his lips against yours, hand grabbing your cheek so his thumb could soothingly caress your cheek. You closed your eyes and enjoyed the soft touches, reciprocating the kiss with the same fluttering intensity. Jeno simply did that for a few minutes before breaking away from you and smiling, “Sorry, I just really wanted to kiss you.”

“It’s ok,” You giggled, content and in peace.

taglist:  @eggbutnotyolk @lauraneuuh @geeisaclown @jenotation @riemm @junguwuuu @prettychaeng @satanssugaraddiction @luvlyjaemin @sweetjaemss @oofimdumb @junglekooks @unknown5tar @rosedchae @deantrblismyhusband @yukheisworld @chippijunxiao @kkakkdugi @luvenshiti @sleep-is-all-i-seek @aka-minhyuk-kun @elithereal @jenniferecand @tacojisung @tiramisubox @hobicore-smut @renjunniex @markresonates @hufflepanda221b @ncttboo @neejaatjeh @heyyyun @yutaalove @iwishihadabettername

[transmascwillbyers]

Maybe you could write a hurt/comfort fiction where will feels horrible about himself or in general and mike helps him?

Sure, anon! Sorry it took me so long to get around to this- I've noticed that even though I enjoy angst, I kind of need to be in the right mood before I write it, so it sometimes takes me long than fluff to get around to. I still love writing it though, so keep the asks coming!

(minor tw here for both external/internalized homophobia, plus one instances of the q slur- you can skip if you're not in the mood, but it does have a happy ending :) )

When you’re different, sometimes you feel like a mistake.

It’s been three years since Will said those words to Mike in the van. Three years since he cried into his hand as he looked out the window, unsure of who he could turn to for guidance without just feeling like he was a burden. Now, Will’s almost eighteen. He feels… better most of the time. But, of course, when everyone around you tells you who you are is fundamentally wrong, broken, for years on end… it can leave a mark, stamped into your brain like a burn scar in the very core of who you are. 

And Will does well, most of the time. Now, he’s come out to his friends and family. He has a boyfriend, who loves him like crazy, and who he loves back just as much. He has late-night talks with Jonathan when the world weighs on his shoulders, and Joyce makes him cocoa or tea whenever she notices something’s off about him. She’s like that, always staying alert to what he needs, and Will’s always grateful for it, without exception.

Things are better, yes. But some days… well, some days are just hard. 

Like today, when Will’s just trying to keep his head down, but all it takes is overhearing whispers in the hallway to cut him to pieces.

“Isn’t that the freak again? Who stole Mike from Jane? Who ruined all his friends' lives?”

“You know, I bet Mike’s not even gay. I bet he just makes out with him sometimes because he feels sorry for him.”

“Forget feeling sorry for him. Will probably tricked him, or something. I mean, he came back from the woods after being missing for days, right? I bet it warped his mind. Turned him into a pervert. Made him think that his best friend would ever love him back, that he’d ever be a queer like-”

It probably is all in his head, like Joyce says. Will can barely even hear what people say when he passes by, anyway. But he’s heard enough over the years, had enough people tell him how disgusting he is that he’s able to fill in the blanks. Now, it’s what he doesn’t hear people say that hurts him, because at least other people have compassion sometimes. 

Will hasn’t had compassion for himself since years ago. And that’s what makes it so difficult for him to breathe.

But he always knows where he can go when he feels like this, when the buzzing in his brain is too loud and it’s screaming at him, screaming at him that he deserves so much less than what he has right now. Ever since he and Mike rebuilt it a year ago, Will’s known that he can go to Castle Byers whenever he needs a bit more distance from the world. After all these years, it still feels magical to him, a place of comic books, bike rides home, dungeons and dragons, art, and holding hands even when it feels like he shouldn’t. It’s home to everything he loves, and maybe if it’s home to Will, he can learn to love himself as well.

So, he bikes home. Normally, Will would drive, but there’s something about feeling the wind blow through his fluffy brown hair and the leaves crunching beneath his tires that he just… needs right now. The minute he reaches that special place in the woods, Will sets his bike aside, carefully placing it on the forest floor like it's fragile cargo. Then he takes a breath, disappears behind the sheet that still feels like a gateway to somewhere else, and reaches for the walkie talkie in the corner of the fort before he even registers what he’s doing. He’s had so many of these days that it feels like muscle memory at this point, more like remembering than actively doing. So he flicks up the antenna, probably setting some kind of record given how quick he is, and switches to the one channel that always, always feels like home to him.

“Mike?” he says, so cautious that his words are barely a whisper. “Do you… do you copy?” One second. Two seconds. Then, Mike’s voice comes rushing out, so explosive Will almost has to cover his ears.

“Will! Y-yes, I copy. O-over.” Even though he’s had a bad day, Will can’t help but smile at his boyfriend’s voice. Ever since they started dating, it’s been like this whenever they call each other, Will barely even saying a word before Mike jumps in, wanting to talk to him more than anyone Will knows. He can’t tell if it’s something he’s happy about, or something that just makes him feels bad- after all, who knows if it’s really genuine, or just some kind of pity thing. Who knows if Mike really even loves him at all, or if it’s just a cruel joke, or some kind of-

Nope. Not right now. Those thoughts won’t get the best of him.

“Will?” Mike says, his voice growing softer as he takes note of the silence on the other end of the line. “Are you… are you okay? Over.” For a minute, Will feels tense, unsure of what to say. There’s a part of him that still feels like asking for help is hard, that still feels like he’s some kind of parasite, sucking away all of Mike’s energy because he doesn’t have the courage to deal with it himself. But Will knows that’s a distortion, even if he can’t always admit it out loud. After all, he’s had a parasite in his own body before, and he’s pretty sure that if he was like the Mind Flayer to Mike, his boyfriend would’ve broken up with him within a week of them dating.

They’re not like that. Not ever, really. But especially not now.

“I-I’m sorry for calling,” Will says, sighing into the device, his voice a wisp of its usual tone. “I… I don’t want you to feel like I’m burdening you or anything, I just-”

“No! No, of course you aren’t, Will! I love you, okay? And I’m here for you. Always.” There’s a pause as Will breathes in and out, taking in the words. Wow. I think I needed that. But then, Will smiles for a minute, realizing, and laughs for the first time today.

“Mike. I didn’t say over.” Will says. Leave it to his boyfriend to ignore walkie-talkie etiquette for the sole purpose of comforting him. “Over.”

“...Oh. Sorry. Uh, what do you need? Over?”

“Um… god, I don’t even know,” Will says, and he can’t tell if it’s the honest truth, or if he’s too exhausted to think of anything else. “Just… I’m over at Castle Byers, okay? And… I-I don’t… if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, maybe-”

“Don’t say anything else. I’ll be over in five minutes.”

“Mike, you still didn’t say-” But before Will can finish, he’s cut off by static, and he knows that Mike’s probably leaving already. If it was anyone else, Will would feel anxious about it, wondering if they weren’t going to keep their word, or if they’d abandon him, but he’s learned by now that Mike isn’t like that. Mike clings to him, whether he wants him to or not, and he’s learned that the hard way. They’re just… drawn in towards each other, like a sort of magic WIll still doesn’t fully understand.

But maybe that’s a good thing, if it can make him feel better on days like these.

Mike keeps his word. He’s actually over at Castle Byers in three minutes, something that Will has no idea how he was able to do, but definitely won’t question. And once he’s there, he’s brought a whole bag full of comics and Will’s old sketches and D&D books, everything Will likes. The best part? No one even needed to tell him what to bring.

“Alright,” Mike says, “I’ve got it all. Games, books, I even brought this thermos of tea here if you need any of it. What do you want to do, Will?” Will thinks for a moment, running his fingers through his hair so he doesn’t have to look Mike in the eye. It’s a tactic he’s learned over the years, and it’s something that’s helped him avoid conversation after conversation, mastering the art of not being fun at parties. 

“I-I think…” Will says, the words stumbling over each other as they fall clumsily out of his mouth. “I-I mean, whatever you want to do, it’s-”

“No!” Mike says, and Will feels a little bit taken aback by how firm he sounds. Who knew he even had it in him? “Will, I…” Mike breathes in and out, gathering his thoughts, before he reaches over and squeezes Will’s hand. The touch feels warm, calming, like Will’s blankets in his room that keep him company in the middle of the night, and he melts into it before he can stop himself. “I’m here for you right now. Okay? And I totally get that you feel weird, and if you feel like you’re a burden, or you’re asking too much… I understand, okay? More than you know.

More than you know. Jesus, how can a simple sentence feel so comforting, all while it shatters Will from the inside out?

“But I promise,” Mike says, continuing even as his voice gets softer, “whatever you want, that’s what I want, too. Whatever makes you happy. Because you deserve it, okay? Even if it doesn’t always feel that way. I promise, you do.” There’s a long pause as WIll tries to keep breathing at a steady pace, even though it feels like his heart’s going to burst at any moment.

“You really think I… I deserve it?”

“I know you do, Will.” And that’s all it takes for Will to fall into Mike's arms, hugging him like a life preserver on a stormy sea. Mike returns it immediately, caressing Will’s back and even kissing his head as they break apart. “I promise you, you deserve to be happy. And whatever it takes to cheer you up, in this moment… I’ll do that.”

“Okay, okay,” Will murmurs, the words so soft they’re barely even a whisper. “Maybe… maybe can you read something to me? I know you’ve been taking that creative writing class, and I just… I don’t know. I just remembered when we were kids, and you’d tell me all those little stories when I was sad, or when other kids were mean to me, and it always made me feel better.”

“O-of course!” Mike says, practically jumping up in his seat as he reaches into his bag for a notebook, the composition pattern matching Mike’s black-and-white converse. “Okay. Here we go. This is one I started on a while ago, called The Paladin and the Cleric. I don’t think it’s that good, but…”

“I’m sure I’ll love it, Mike. Don’t worry,” Will says, taking the chance to be the sympathetic boyfriend this time as he wraps his arm around Mike’s shoulder. “You’re doing great.”

“Okay. Okay, then,” Mike says, with a breathless little laugh that makes Will feel like he’s walking on air. “Chapter one. It was a dark and stormy night. Our hero, the cleric, was hiding in his castle, planning his next move…” And as Mike reads, turning the pages with a fire in his eyes, Will cuddles into his arm, letting his head rest on his shoulder as he breathes deeper and deeper than he has all week.

Will Byers still has bad days. And sometimes, he still feels like a mistake.

But Mike Wheeler? Mike makes him feel like he’s not a mistake at all.

And that gives him the courage to fight on.

This was long. Sorry. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, and my inbox is now officially empty, so as always if you have a prompt you want me to write, send me an ask and I will (hopefully, eventually) write it! Have a good day :)

[morkleemelon]

off the ice || chapter 6: grab my hand

previous || m.list || playlist || next

pairing: college hockey player! mark x fem. college figure skater! reader

genre: fluff, humor, angst, sports au, college au

word count: 7.7k

warnings: swearing, suggestive material, depictions of bullying

author’s note: huge thanks again to my beta readers @writing-frog and @skiimmiilk I’ve made the executive decision to split up the last chapter since it was so long! Chapter 7, the finale, is done and will be posted in a few days <3 

Distance. Distance isn’t a word you would use to describe your relationship as he pulls you close at night. There’s no distance between the two of you as he lifts you up in the air during your nightly practice, strong hands firmly gripping your waist as you dance across the empty rink.

No.

But if one were to look past your smile, to wipe away the condensation and see clearly what’s really going through your head when you were together with Mark, they might just name the dreadful feeling caving in your chest “distance”. 

Weeks have passed by since the hate message incident in Mark’s room. You tried to pull out the arrow, to convince yourself it wasn’t true and that you could ignore it just like all the rest. Alas, its words struck so deep, you still bleed. 

It poisons your thoughts. Your anxieties had already worsened  and you found yourself pulling away from his affections, afraid of the way the people walking past might somehow be talking about you.

Mark is starting to have his suspicions too, flashing you concerned looks when you uncomfortably shrug his arm off your shoulders in public. To you, it’s because you’re scared of the ‘hateful’ stares from others. To him, it’s a riddle he can’t solve. 

Because when it’s just the two of you, you let yourself relax. Like yin and yang, you fight an internal battle between how much you adore your boyfriend and how terrified you are that you aren’t good enough for him. When it’s just the two of you alone, you stop running and let him close the distance. 

Right now is one of those rare times - the familiar cold and scraping of ice below your skates bringing you peace. 

Mark glides easily beside you on the empty rink. He’s improved a lot, much to your astonishment. A golden boy through and through, he proves that there’s nothing he can’t do as he conquers each move you show him. 

Coach Tanya was surprised when you spoke with her after practice one day to notify her that you’d decided to pair with Mark Lee, captain of the hockey team, for the winter competition. Her thin eyebrows were perked in playful judgement when you started to defend yourself, ready to bring up Yuna’s accident and your financial situation before she stopped you: “You’re my best skater, y/n, and I look forward to your performance. Work hard, captivate your audience, and you just might win”.

Watching Mark skate on ahead of you in the borrowed skates he makes do with, you can’t wait to prove her right.

“What are we going to practice tonight, y/n?,” Mark asks as he arcs a wide circle around you. 

“I think you’ve gotten most of the basics down, so let’s go over the first part of the choreography,” you decide, grabbing onto his hand and giggling as he swings you around with him. 

“We have choreography?,” Mark lifts your arm up to twirl you around. He stops you as you face him, a laugh leaving your lips before he smothers them with kisses. His fingers tickle at the hem of your shirt, cold to your bare skin. You squeal, the sound carrying eerily over the spacious rink.

“I thought about it a lot in my head,” you explain as you shove him away gaily, “and I planned a bit during my own practices. It’s not done yet, but I think we can make it work”. 

“My talented, beautiful girl,” Mark murmurs, catching up to you and wrapping you in a back hug. You sigh blissfully, catching his warm lips in the crook of your neck.

“Mark, we seriously do have to practice. The festival’s only a month away,” you mumble. Some nights, let's just say, you spend more time in the locker room showers than you do on the ice. Using your best intuition, Mark’s lips travelling down towards your collarbones equals not a lot of practice time. And as much as you want for him to distract you all night long, you have to put your skate down and bring your boyfriend back to focus on the task at hand.

He huffs slightly against your skin, but releases you obediently.

“It’s gonna start like this,” you swiftly continue on, positioning your arm gracefully behind Mark’s head, “put your hand here,” you move his hand behind your back like you had planned, “and tilt your head to look at me,”. You tip his jaw slightly so he now peers down at you, face not inches from yours.

Dropping your gaze, you maintain what little self control you have and refrain from thinking about the locker room. It’s right by the rink exit. It’d be so easy to just...

“And then?,” Mark whispers, voice low, waiting patiently in the starting position. His hand is warm against your back, but it tugs at your heartstrings too.

“And then you’re gonna spin me out like we practiced before”. You help him perform the motion, unfurling yourself from his grip and gliding down to spin a slow circle around.

You bring him slowly through the rest of the introduction, Mark copying the moves diligently. 

“Then when I skate back to you, lift me up in the air like we did last time. You think you can do it?,” you question. The move you’re about to attempt is quite difficult - a little dangerous, even, since Mark is still a beginner - but you trust him to never hurt you.

“I can do it,” he confirms confidently, holding his arms out to receive you. 

“Okay, slow at first,” you nod, skating up to him at half-speed, grabbing onto his shoulders to help lift yourself above his head. Mark’s strong hands connect with your body, hoisting you up by your waist and balancing your body carefully above his. Muscles burning, you steady yourself as he twirls you slowly down.

“Alright, again,” you command.

The two of you repeat the move, steadily increasing the speed until the lift is smooth to your satisfaction. 

“I think that was pretty good,” you compliment, slightly out of breath. 

“Only because of you,” Mark endears, panting as he rests his chin atop your hair.

You sigh into his chest, the comforting feeling of his palpitating heartbeat washing over you.

If only it could always be like this.

“y/n?,” Mark mumbles. His tone was almost unsure, as if he was about to say something you don’t want to hear.

You hum an affirmation.

“Is everything okay these days?,” he asks the question you dread answering, “I know,” he continues before you can blurt out your default lie, “I know you keep saying that it is, but I feel like...you know you can tell me anything, right?”. 

Mark changes his phrasing midway, always taking your feelings into consideration. The all too familiar wave of guilt fills you up to your ears and you step slightly away. The stadium is dim, only lit by the natural light of the night sky, but you can see the concern that creases his face out in your peripheral vision. 

Your eyes focus instead on his jacket button. The second from the top has a few loose threads. 

And that’s just how you feel too; the button was made for this coat - it wants to hang on and be there forever. But how could it persist when the world wants to rip it off?

“It’s nothing,” you insist bitterly, your peaceful mood tainted gray. You were so close to successfully ending another day without confronting your demons. Why must Mark sense it so well?

Please stop, Mark. Please stop.

“I don’t think it’s nothing”. There’s nothing but kindness and concern in his voice, but when he reaches his hand out to you, fear overcomes your rationality and you jerk yourself away. 

“It is nothing!,” you exclaim, overly defensive. Half of your mind screams at you to halt, to filter your words before you say something you would regret, but the fuse was already lit and they come tumbling out anyway. “Can you please stop asking? It’s annoying,”.

A beat passes. Two. Five.

The sharp words tear through your mouth like knives, but even then you can’t stop to think. The energy in the rink changed so quickly, your head spins with shock. Turning away from the pained expression you don’t want to see, you skate quickly towards the exit. 

The ice is solid as ever, but why does it feel like you’re sinking?

Slamming the dormitory door shut behind you, your skating bag hits the floor before you do. Back pressed against the concrete wall, shaking sobs rack through your body as you sink down to your feet.

“y/n, what happened?,” Yuna peers over her computer screen. Your roommate had finally returned home a few days ago after her leg had finally healed enough to be discharged. 

You don’t answer, only burying your teary face into your arms as you cry harder.

The metallic creaking of crutches ensues as Yuna approaches your slumped form. A comforting embrace wraps around your shaking shoulders and the smell of her daisy perfume engulfs you. Her scarred hands stroke through your hair as she says nothing, waiting for your hiccups to calm down.

Guilt eats away at you like nitric acid. It mixes with your frustration, concocting a perfect poison that destroys your last thread of self-respect. 

“Can you please stop asking? It’s annoying”

“Can you please stop asking? It’s annoying”

“Can you please stop asking? It’s annoying”

The hurtful words don’t stop echoing in your head. What’s worse is, even though you didn’t stay to look, you can imagine the pain that crossed his face as you left without another word. You feel absolutely disgusting.

This is it. He’s finally going to be done with me.

Moments pass, Yuna sitting patiently by your side as you manage to find your voice. The dam you built around all your secret cracks, disintegrating to pieces as you let everything out to your best friend. 

You tell her about all of the hate messages you’ve been getting for months now - how you tried to ignore them, but some of them hit too way deep to forget. You tell her about the dilemma with Mark. He’s never done any wrong to you, ever, but you feel like you can’t keep forcing your problems on him. When you confided in your financial situation with him, he dropped everything to help you with the competition. You at least want to be able to handle one thing by yourself, to not be a burden, but it’s tearing you apart at the seams.

“I don’t deserve him and he’s going to realize it sooner or later,” you lament, gripping onto Yuna’s arms for dear life. Gasping sobs ensue, even as you hold your breath desperately to stop them. “He’s probably already realized it after what I said. Yuna, what do I do? I’m horrible”. Bitter tears choke at your throat.

“Oh honey,” Yuna coos into your hair, “you don’t even know, do you?”. 

Hiccupping uncontrollably, you take gasping breaths, trying to calm down. Your roommate understands, patting you gently on the back. 

“When you’re in a relationship with someone, the line between having enough communication and enough privacy is tough to figure out. Should you tell him about the lint between your toes? Maybe not. But talking to him about what’s bothering you is not only okay, it’s the right thing to do”.

Yuna lifts your chin up to face her. She looks empathetically down at your watery eyes as she takes her sleeve to dry the fallen tears. You press your eyelids shut, taking deep breaths punctuated by hiccups.

“And Mark,” she continues, “this guy, he looks at you like you’re all the stars in the sky and he’s the first astronomer. There’s not a thing you could tell him that would bother him, that’s what I think. And I think he’s dying to know how he can help you”. 

“Yuna I- you don’t understand. I just left him there after saying that. And I can’t even go on a date with him without feeling like people are talking about us,” you gasp out, “So the person sending the messages is right; I’m not good enough for him and he deserves someone way better than me. Maybe this is for the better”.

“y/n, don’t you see?,” Yuna snaps sternly. You open your eyes. They’re pink-red, matching the tip of your nose. “You’re letting other people ruin a once-in-a-lifetime relationship for you. Do you know what happens when you leave to go to the bathroom when we’re all hanging out? Mark’s looking towards the women’s room every two seconds, waiting for you to come back. This guy will manage to find a way to bring up your name at least twice in the five minutes you’re away. He likes you so much, anyone with a brain knows, so it’s not fair to him for you to tell him what, or who he deserves. At least let him make his own decision”.

The advice resonates in the air. Your hiccups calm to a sniffle as it sinks in. Yuna’s right, you’re being so selfish right now. Actually, you’ve been selfish this whole time. By forcing everything to yourself, you were creating an even bigger problem than any of the ones you were trying to hide.

“Yuna, what do I do now?,” you whisper, dread setting in.

“Girl, go talk to him. Now.”

You must look a mess, but you don’t bother fixing yourself up before you’re out the door.

Yuna sends you off with a ‘good luck!’ as you run down the corridor. Rushing down the metal stairs, your frenzied steps echo through the empty stairwell. They sound as desperate as you feel.

Oh god, please let it not be too late.

Once you reach the first floor entrance, you notice through the glass door that it is now, in fact, pouring rain. You were too distracted before to notice the heavy sounds of precipitation pelting down over you. 

Hands shaking to send Mark a message, you tell him you need to talk and you’re coming to him. You have no umbrella, but you push open the door anyways. The freezing rain soaks into your skin but you run on, unfazed.

You’re drenched and shivering by the time you stand panting in front of his building. Dying street lights illuminate against the dark, night sky. Waiting, the rain stings your eyes.

Through the blur, Mark’s figure finally appears at the door window. You can’t quite make out his face, but you know it’s him. The metal frame creaks as he pushes it open.

“y/n, what are you doing?”. His voice is raspy and as he comes closer into view. You notice that his eyes are pink-red, matching the tip of his nose.

“I have to talk to you,” you state, voice wavering as fresh tears mix with the ice-cold precipitation. Mustering up all the courage you have, you ready yourself to tell him everything you’ve been holding back.

“Let’s go inside”. His voice is soft as he tugs at your drenched jacket sleeve. 

“No I-,” you choke, “I want to say it right now”.

The rain bears down hard as he lets go of your sleeve, allowing the frigid water to soak through his own self, waiting.

“You asked me if something was wrong,” your resolve comes crashing down, “and a lot has been wrong”. You squeeze your eyes shut to force out the unwanted raindrops. “The truth is, I’ve been getting hate messages every day since we started dating. Probably even before that. They say I’m a slut, or I’m fat and ugly. The details don’t matter”.

Mark takes a step towards you, the concerned expression creasing his brow in full view. 

“But then they say I’m not good enough for you,” your voice breaks as you admit the most painful part of all, blinking up at him, “and I can’t help but believe them”.

Futily, you swipe your drenched sleeve across your eyes to dry them.

“But even if I don’t deserve anything that you are, I need to tell you right now that I didn’t mean what I said today and I need to know if you still want me-”

Before the next raindrop could hit your skin, you feel yourself lifted up into a crushing hug.

There’s no sound except the heavy pitter patter of rain around you, but you can swear that there’s a symphony playing as he spins you around. His breath huffs against your neck. He’s crying too, you realize.

“y/n,” he croaks, body quivering with tears and from the cold, “I always want you. I-, you-”. Mark pulls you in extra tight as he struggles to find the right words.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” the words strain against Mark’s throat, “when I first saw you, I dropped my shit and ran away”.

You pull slightly away, looking up at him quizzically.

He shakes his head and continues, “You were so beautiful and even when I thought you hated me, I couldn’t stop thinking about you all the time. I don’t want anyone else-”.

Grabbing your face with both of his hands, he presses desperate kisses to your forehead. The rain bears down hard, lightning cracking in the sky, but you’re numb to everything else except the feeling of his lips pressing their love onto your skin. 

“You’re it for me,” his voice wavers. The vulnerable confession sends you into a fresh wave of emotions and you grip onto the back of his neck, crying into his shoulder. “You’re my heart. I knew it from the first moment I saw you”. 

Pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes, he brushes back the wet strands of hair stuck to your face. You’re tempted to do the same, the once golden locks now almost black against his brow. 

“I love you”. 

The words leave his lips so suddenly, but they’ve been at the tip of his tongue for so long they roll off with ease. Your heart drums against your chest as time seems to stop. 

“You love me?” you choke, not believing your ears. His forehead is pressed against yours.

“I love you,” he repeats, “I love you. More than anything. So much that I can’t breathe. I was so scared when you left today because I thought I did something wrong and I was thinking of what I said and I was sitting at my desk waiting for you to call because I wasn’t sure if I should call you first after what happened but then I almost did and then-,”

You shut him up with your lips. 

He sinks into your touch, responding naturally as you kiss him with everything you have.

Your mind spins with a mixture of relief and excitement as you let all of your worries go. It was never about other people, you realize, it was about your own insecurities and you were tearing yourself down. Without realizing it, you forgot to take into account the other half of the relationship: Mark’s opinion.

But now you know for sure, the opinion that actually matters, not the anonymous person who doesn’t know better. He loves you. It’s you he’s chosen. Out of all of the people he could pick from, Mark holds you in his arms, whispering soft ‘I love you’s’ between each kiss. Kisses to your lips. 

How could you ever want him to be with someone else when you’re the one he wants?

“I love you too,” you reply breathlessly into his open kiss. 

We deserve to be happy.

He doesn’t say anything, instead responding by tugging your waist closer to him, moving his jaw feverishly to indulge you deeper. Water drips down from his hair, splashing onto the bridge of your nose.

“Let’s go inside,” you gasp. The heat of the moment made you temporarily forget, but the icy November weather slowly started to soak past your jacket. You shiver as a strong gust of wind blows past your drenched body.

Mark leads you inside and you hustle up to his suite. His hand is warm against your wrist and you can’t wait for it to be tangled in your hair again.

Slamming open the door, Mark’s arms are around your waist before it could drift shut. You jump up, wrapping your legs around his hips as he carries you to his room, lips never leaving yours.

Jeno, unsuspecting, is lying on his bed with a book in his hands. If your eyes were open, you would flush at the incredulous look the poor boy shoots towards you. 

Meanwhile, your boyfriend works at your jacket zipper quickly, removing the wet outer layers as he sits you on his bed. 

Pausing a second, he turns his head to speak to his roommate. 

“Out”. 

You don’t have time to feel embarrassed before Mark’s jacket is on the floor and he’s lying you back, hovering over your body. The bedroom door rams shut as Jeno scurries out, not keen on seeing the scene progress any further. 

I’m sorry, man.

Your mental apology doesn’t last long as your wet hair soaks into the pillowcase beneath you. Mark kisses a line from your jaw down the side of your neck, raindrops wet on his tongue. The heat of his body contrasts the cold of yours and you want all of it against you. 

Rain-stained articles of clothing gather on the floor in no time.

“God, I love you so much,” Mark hushes against your ear. His gruff tone sends shivers down your back and you scratch your nails through the base of his hair. Your legs find their way around his hips again, pulling him down impossibly closer.

“I love you too,” you gasp back. 

He kisses between your collarbones, then looks back into your eyes, “do you want this?”. 

You nod frantically, your voice nothing short of breathless. “I want this”.

Peace you haven’t been able to feel for a long time blankets you as you lie on your lover’s chest, the two of you fresh out of breath. Such a revelation- him telling you he loved you was. And you want to savor the feeling forever.

It feels as if there was a thorn lodged in your heart, festering for months from your terrible, insecure thoughts and you’ve finally yanked it out. It feels like you can finally breathe.

Well, metaphorically. Physically, you may need a few minutes.

Mark’s hair sticks up in every direction, frizzy from being half-dried and from your constant tugging. Nonetheless, he looks beautiful to you in the dim, lamp-lit room. His chest rises and falls in your embrace and your fingers work to delicately trace the toned muscles of his torso. Mimicking your movements, he grazes his thumbs over the blue-purple masterpiece he’s painted across your neck and chest.

“Good?,” he asks nonchalantly.

You let out a soft snort at the sudden question.

Men will always be men.

“Great,” you admit. Heat creeps into your face as you recall the last hour or so. 

You guess there’s more benefits of hockey than just the uniform: the stamina and athleticism. 

His inflated ego fills the room palpably as he shifts in the messy bed, tugging the covers more over your tangled bodies. Noises arise from the kitchen, probably from his other suitemates. Embarrassment fills you to the brim when you realize that everyone probably heard the two of you. You were far too busy caught up in your passionate feelings to consider this, and now it’s come back to bite. 

Huffing shyly, you hide your growing blush into the nape of your boyfriend’s neck. Clanging of kitchenware resonates clearly through the room’s thin walls. You can’t help but distress over how clearly the others could hear you. And for such a long time too.

Oh my gosh. How will I ever face them?

Mark seems to sense your thoughts and lets out a light chuckle. 

“Babe, we’re fine. They all hookup all the time. And Yuna-,”

“I don’t need to know, thank you,” you interrupt sharply. Squeezing your eyes shut, you fight off the disturbing imagery.

Ten’s voice drifts through the suite and the sound of the front door shutting rings through them with unnerving vigor. You jolt at the bang, stiffly turning your neck towards the locked bedroom door, as if it would reveal any answers. Mark looks at you, the confused expression on his face making it apparent that he doesn’t know what is happening either. Slowly, he shifts up into a sitting position.

“You’re fucking kidding me - it was that bitch?”. The senior boy’s voice cuts through the nighttime quiet abruptly. Struggling to stitch together the context of the overheard conversation, you force your sore body to sit up as well. From how it sounds, it seems like Ten is on a phone call.

You look at your boyfriend for confirmation. With a nod, the two of you mutually agree to silently withdraw from the comfort of the covers and get dressed. 

“I don’t - listen to me, do they know for sure?,” Ten asks anxiously from the other side of the door.

With increasing concern, you hastily pick up your wet, discarded clothing. The cold, uncomfortable sensation makes you wince. Mark grabs your wrist, preventing you from putting on the still-soaked yoga pants. Shaking his head, he takes the garment and tosses it over his desk chair. From his dresser, he hands you a dry set of his own clothing. 

The gesture makes you smile and you gratefully pull on the warm sweats and hoodie. They’re obscenely large for your frame, but it’s a sure upgrade from your sad, rain-ruined outfit. Mark ruffles your hair, cheeks like strawberries as he kneels down without a word to roll up your pants. 

A small giggle escapes your lips. He’s just seen you naked, but of course it’s this that gets him blushing.

The happy expression is quickly wiped off your face as Ten continues abruptly, anger apparent in his voice. 

“Fucking hell! Hillary Choi? The bitch even admitted to it?”. The senior captain’s voice is nothing less than a yell now. Mark’s mouth hangs open in shock as he stares towards the door. The concern and shock shining in his eyes allude to how uncharacteristic his friend’s behavior is.

“Hillary Choi…,” you mutter under your breath, the name ever so familiar to your ears. 

“Wait she’s…,” Mark turns his gaze to you carefully, silently confirming his correct assumption.

“She’s the one who hates me…,” you confirm bitterly with a nod. 

Mark stands up, grabbing both your hands as you sit back on his bed. His expression is sad, perhaps also peppered with anger - something you’ve never seen in your boyfriend. Gently, he tugs you to your feet.

As you push the bedroom door open slightly, the common room comes into view. Ten’s figure is hunched over the kitchen sink, listening intently to the person on the other side of the phone speak. His breathing is rushed - you’ve only ever seen him this mad the day Yuna entered the hospital. 

Then it all makes sense.

Opening the door fully, you reveal Jeno and Haechan sitting on the common room couch. You make eye contact with them as you and Mark stand at the doorway, listening. Their expressions tell that they’re equally as concerned as you.

Mark’s hand in yours, you tiptoe your way to join the two friends on the sofa. 

“The fucking psycho bitch,” Ten spits. His hands run furiously through his raven hair as he begins pacing around. The senior sees all of you gathered together, but makes no move to acknowledge any of you other than a hard stare.

The tension is suffocating. Everyone wants to say something, but the waters seem too rough to test. Anxious glances are exchanged, but not a word leaves any of your mouths as Ten continues pacing around, the other speaker on the phone relaying more information. You conclude to wait until the call is over before you try to ask.

“Okay so she’s at the police station right now? ”.

Mark’s hand squeezes yours in silent shock. 

“Okay… fuck,” Ten rubs tiredly at the bridge of his nose, “alright okay, thank you, officer. I- yeah I’m okay, thank you. Tell Yuna I’m on my way now”. 

A moment of silence suspends heavily over the air as he hangs up the call. The breath you didn’t know you were holding escapes in relief as Haechan clears his throat awkwardly and takes one for the team.

“Uh…,” the sophomore calculates for a bit, eyeing the enraged senior carefully, “Ten, what’s going on?”.

For the first time ever, it seems, the mischievous boy’s voice rid itself of its usual snide tone, replaced by refreshing sincerity. 

Ten sets down his hand, revealing tears building up in his previously covered eyes. Jeno doesn’t waste a second, getting off the couch without a word and wrapping his arms around his crying friend. 

You hesitate before asking, “It’s Yuna’s case?”. Keeping your voice as steady as possible, you hope you’ve succeeded in masking your growing fear.

Ten sniffs, patting Jeno’s back, prompting the younger to let go. Wiping away the stray tears, he nods. Everyone waits patiently as the distraught senior calms himself down with deep breaths.

“They caught the person who tried to kill her- or is it people? I don’t even know. And yes - they tried to kill her,” Ten rubs a stressed finger between his brow, “It was Hillary Choi, some junior girl who’s obsessed with Mark - she’s in our fanclub or whatever. They said she confessed it was all part of a plan? I don’t- I don’t know,” his voice breaks off as he tugs at his hair before heading over to grab his keys. 

“Wait, I don’t understand. If she’s obsessed with me why would she go try to hurt Yuna?,” Mark’s voice rings with alarm. A sinking feeling of dread sits in your stomach like a block of cement.

“It’s-,” Ten huffs into his hands, “let’s go to the station first and the bitch can tell you herself, she’s there apparently. Yuna is too. I don’t want to keep Yuna waiting there alone any longer so let’s go”.

The drive is silent, save the rumbling of the pavement below the car’s tires. Mark’s hand grips yours like a vice, but you don’t say anything. In fact, it kind of keeps you grounded as your anxiety goes through the roof. You’re no Sherlock, but hearing news that a girl who’s obsessed with your boyfriend (as has been sending you hate messages for months, no less) tried to kill your best friend, almost succeeding, bodes terribly for you. 

It had stopped raining a while ago and the five of you hurry your way through the fresh puddles dotting the police station lot. 

“Yuna?,” Ten calls out as the glass doors slide open. 

“Here,” a weak reply voices from behind a partition. 

Rushing over, you see that Yuna’s usual perfect composition is instead worn-down: her platinum blonde hair falls limply down her shoulders and her face is gaunt with distress. 

You had just seen her a few hours ago and she was even the one comforting you then. But now it’s your turn as you carefully kneel down beside her chair and pull her instinctively into a hug. 

“Officer, can you please tell us what’s going on?,” Mark stops a nearby woman in uniform. 

“You’re all friends of Ms. Kim?,” she inquires, continuing as a chorus of confirmations fills the room, “Okay, just a second”.

The woman appears visibly tired, probably pulled out of bed at an ungodly hour to cover this shift. Taking a long sip of her coffee, the white curls of steam prance around the air as you itch for answers. Setting the hot beverage down on the desk beside her, she straightens her badge. ‘Detective Jeong’, it reads.

“We have a confession,” Jeong relays finally, “earlier today- or yesterday, I should say- we received a call from our traffic security team detailing that they spotted the same model of car as the one thought to be involved with the accident on September 15th the uh-,” she stops to check her clipboard, “black 2018 Audi A4. We issued a warrant to interrogate the driver as quickly as possible, although not much was needed since the perpetrator, Miss Hillary Choi, confessed to the hit and run almost immediately”.

You hug Yuna tighter, Ten embracing from her other side. 

“You have the confession, did she say why?,” Jeno asks sternly.

“This is where it gets slightly more complicated and I want to ask, is a Miss y/n here?”.

The mention of your name makes you perk up, surprised. 

“That’s me,” you stand up slowly, “why?”.

Mark places a hand at the small of your back in concern. 

“y/n…,” Yuna sobs softly, gripping your arm. A thousand thoughts run through your head as your struggle to understand what is happening. 

“Yes?,” you brush the fallen strands of hair behind her ear.

“I want her to say it,” Yuna directs, speaking to the detective now. 

“Now we do have Miss Choi in our custody right now, but you’ll have to move back into the interrogation room if you wish to speak with her, for safety reasons”.

You nod, helping Yuna onto her crutches as everyone moves towards the back of the station. It feels as if you’re dreaming, that reality has separated itself into a different plane than the one you’re in and your existence has become but a construct. Your legs move on autopilot while your eyes are fixed ahead, but not really looking at anything in particular. 

The room you enter is dark and stuffy. Even with Haechan and Jeno opting to wait outside, it is far too crowded for the four of you. The room is divided into two; the other side is fully visible but unreachable due to a large plexiglass window in between. It’s eerily isolating. Yuna is ushered onto the only fold-up chair on your side of the room.

As the late-night officers go to bring Hillary in, the apprehension in the air is thick enough to be spread on your breakfast toast. The only comfort that comes to you is Mark’s arms wrapped around your waist. It’s the only thing that you can make sense of right now.

The door on the opposite side slams open suddenly, drawing a sharp gasp from you. Mark’s fingers curl protectively into your hoodie as Hillary enters.

It’s surreal. This woman - handcuffs and all - carries a plain, calm expression as she sits down casually in her own fold-up chair. You hadn’t seen her in a while, but her beady-eyed gaze is as intense as ever. The red streaks in her hair are outgrown, falling awkwardly around the bright orange of her jumpsuit. 

“What’s up?,” Hillary asks, tone cool as if she were not being held for attempted murder at the moment. Her dark eyes settle on you, the arms around your waist, then back to you. Hillary’s stoic face is unreadable, yet it sends chills down your spine like a thousand spiders.

“What’s up? You absolute psycho bitch-,” Ten rails, banging on the glass barrier with a clenched fist. He pulls back as the officer gives him a warning. Yuna pulls him back to calm him down.

Your eyes don’t leave hers. They’re a dark brown, almost black, and you find yourself sinking into them - pulled into them like they’re black holes of concentrated hatred.

Closing your eyes, you pull your mind back to yourself. 

For months on end, you’ve been the recipient of her constant torment. It not only affected your mental health, but almost cost you the relationship of a lifetime. This whole time, you’ve been afraid of her words, letting them eat away at your dignity from inside out until you were nearly gone. 

But if you had the weapon of confidence - if you had simply chosen to stand up and reply, to say ‘no, you’re wrong’, her arrows would have fallen limp to the ground and she couldn’t have hurt you. Hurt your friend.

You open your eyes, this time staring back hard. Hillary’s expression is unfazed, but you imagine she’s surprised at your change in mentality.

“Tell me everything,” you demand firmly. 

Hillary scoffs, as if the situation is amusing. 

“Fuck you, tell us everything,” Ten hisses.

Hillary rolls her eyes. “Fine. Only because she wouldn’t want me to be mean to you, Ten”. 

“Who?,” you ask rigidly.

“I’ll get to that, bitch,” she sneers.

“Hey, don’t call her that,” Mark warns.

The psychopath in orange laughs maniacally, though you can’t place your finger on what she finds funny. 

“Funny,” she gasps for breath, slapping her knees vigorously, “funny how now you talk to me!”. 

“She’s nuts,” Yuna states.

“The whole damn Planters factory,” you agree.

“You people wouldn’t know a thing!,” Hillary fires, pointing an accusing finger around the room. Her face is red from her laughing fit, almost as red as her disgruntled bangs. Eyes now glistening with rage, you press back into Mark’s embrace when her personality flips 180 degrees in under a second. “You don’t know anything!,” she screams, “You don’t know! You don’t know!”.

The four of you watch in shock as Hillary melts down, the guard coming up and restraining her to the chair. She’s thrashing around, chanting the phrase over and over again.

“You’ll never know how much I love you, Mark,” Hillary shrieks, smiling hauntingly as she’s forced back into the chair and cuffed to it, “and you’ll never know how much she loves you, Ten”. 

“What the fuck?,” Ten rightfully shouts.

“Tell us who!,” you raise your voice. 

“I’m getting there, b-,” she stops in the middle of the slur, glancing at your boyfriend. In the blink of an eye, her expression jumps from pure disdain to sickly sweet, “baby”. 

Anger flushes through your body. Wanting to provoke her a little, you turn your gaze to your boyfriend. Predictably, he immediately turns his full attention to you. A scrunch of his brow asks you if you’re okay. 

“Did you enjoy them?,” Hillary’s voice is ‘normal’ again as she asks the out-of-context question.

“What?,” Ten pries, unamused.

“Did you,” she points her finger directly at you, “enjoy my messages?”.

Oh boy, oh boy. I was waiting for you to ask that.

The words rush to your mouth, every comeback you’ve ever made manifesting into the pinnacle of all comebacks, “As a matter of fact, I did,” you smile brightly, “I especially enjoyed the one’s where you said Mark doesn’t love me and doesn’t want me. I like to think of the irony of it all when we’re sleeping together and he gives me these”. 

You tug down the collar of your hoodie (that’s actually his which makes it even better) to reveal the hickies blooming down your neck. “If only you could know how good it feels, but you’re undoubtedly alone”.

Yuna snickers beside you, but Mark’s signature laugh shamelessly fills the limited space around you. The mood of the room changes completely at your words, the seriousness dissipating like sugar in hot water. It’s so refreshing, the feeling of being in control of yourself. Hillary, the person you used to be so afraid of looks so small in her isolation. There’s nothing to her at all, now that you know to stand up for yourself. You’ve never felt so… powerful. 

In any other situation, you would have died in embarrassment from sharing personal information like that, but you’re on a roll. And it’s bitch ass Hillary we’re talking about here. Even Ten looks mildly impressed by your new attitude, a tiny smile quirked on his lips.

“You-,” Hillary pouts, “how could you, Mark, how could you do this to me? You and I both know we loved each other first. We still love each other”.

“I have literally no idea what you mean,” Mark emphasizes, moving his hands to grip your shoulders, “you need some serious help, man”.

“I’ll fucking kill you!,” she screams at you again. 

“No you won’t,” you chuckle, “you’re locked up! At this point it’s a little amusing.

“You wanna know what the plan was? Me and Seojung were gonna kill you both. I take the bitch that’s dating Ten and she takes the slut who took Mark from me. I got so close, following you, blondie, to the party, but you just had to live-”

“The fuck did you just say?”

“Sick psycho oh my god”

“Yeah good luck doing that from prison, asshole”

The room erupts in replies that cut her off. 

“Alright, time’s up,” the guard announces. The door on your side of the room opens, a gust of cool air welcoming you as Detective Jeong appears to usher you out. Turning around to give Hillary one last word as the officer drags her back to her cell, you’re not surprised to meet her menacing eyes. 

“He loves me,” you state confidently, “and he always will. Enjoy hell”. 

With that, the door shuts behind her and the worst chapter of your life dots its last concluding period. It’s the last one that you’ll let someone else write for you. You’re more than ready to pick up the pen and turn the next page. Excitedly, you head out to your friends waiting on you outside.

“Don’t worry, we’ve monitored that whole conversation and everything will be used against her in court,” Jeong assures, “Miss y/n, you might remember Choi mentioned a ‘Seojung’ and we want to make sure you know that she has been detained and held at the Gangnam Police Station. We’re waiting on her statement, but if what Choi testified is true, we’re looking at life in prison for both parties”.

“Not death?,” Ten scoffs.

“Not death, no,” the detective shakes her head.

“So basically, they’re both insane. And they did all this because they thought Ten and Mark belonged to them,” Haechan follows slowly, having just been filled in.

“We gotta put an end to this fanclub shit. Why are our lives controlled by these freaks,” Jeno groans.

He’s right. He’s so right. The whole thing is disgusting, especially when none of the Lee’s ever asked for it to be formed. If it’s already gotten to the point where members are caught in homicidal attempts, there’s no way the Lovelees club can continue to exist.

The station is nearly empty now, almost all of the officers handling the case calling it a night and heading home. Not wanting to keep Detective Jeong any longer, the six of you head out to the car. It’s nearly four in the morning and the adrenaline is wearing off, exhaustion replacing it.

“Hey but y/n, you were so good in there,” Yuna smiles, bumping you with her shoulder as you walk through the parking lot. The night air is cold against your skin, filled with the scent of petrichor.

“Yeah, you,” Mark looks at you with doe eyes, arm slung around your shoulders.

Letting out a short laugh, you press your lips quickly to his cheek.

“And I’m assuming based on how this looks, the conversation went well?,” Yuna adds.

“Only thanks to you,” you appreciate, turning from your best friend to Mark, “I think we’re all good now”. 

Mark beams at you as Ten unlocks his car, bringing you in for an elated kiss.

Groans erupt from all around. 

“You’ve seriously been going at it all night, none of us have gotten any sleep,” Haechan whines loudly.

“Bruh,” says Jeno.

“Then get yourself a girlfriend, fatass, I don’t know what to say,” Mark retaliates.

You reluctantly pull away as everyone piles into the vehicle. Haechan, you don’t feel bad for. He could cry and pout all day and you wouldn’t bat an eyelash. Jeno, is a different story. 

Memories of earlier cause your fingers to curl up in cringe; the way he was minding his own business in his own room only to be caught in the middle of your… make-up methods. 

“Hey…,” you apologize as you cram into the seat next to him, “I’m uh- I’m sorry about earlier”.

“I don’t want to talk about it”. The blue-haired boy massages the crease between his brows, stressed. 

“Right okay,” you nod. 

“Not to ruin the mood, but are you okay y/n? I feel like we’re moving too fast past what you’ve been dealing with for the past few months. I mean… I just want to make sure I’m not in the dark about your feelings again,” Mark asks softly.

Silence falls upon the car as the group awaits your answer. You look to the passenger seat, to Yuna, as Ten cruises down the city street. 

“I’ll never forgive her,” you finally admit, “either one of them. They can literally rot in hell for all I care. But for me, I’m okay. If anything, this whole thing has taught me a lot and I’ve grown a lot from it. Both of them are locked up, so I’m not scared anymore. Oddly, I feel really free”. 

Packed into a tiny car, cruising down the streets of Seoul, you admire the friends around you. You’re surrounded by love. Your best friend and the love of her life. Your soulmate and his two best friends (who have become like family to you). Back on campus, Hope and Lisa sleep away, unaware of the chaos of today. You can imagine the looks on their faces as Yuna and you fill them in. Irreplaceable, every one of them. 

Life is full of way too many amazing things for any number of crazy bitches to ruin. Just as your friends have become irreplaceable to you, you are irreplaceable to them too. It’s due time that you give some credit to yourself. 

I am truly confident. I am worthy. I am loved.

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[starleska]

when Logic twists: an analysis of Logan, cognitive distortions, and a future Side

spoilers ahead! this is a little deep-dive into some foreshadowing in the latest Sanders Sides episode, and what i believe the team are going for in terms of Logan’s arc. just some thoughts i had after the episode - i hope you enjoy, and would love to hear your thoughts too :) tw for discussion around mental illness, trauma, abuse, intrusive thoughts, therapy, etc. 

so, we all know that Thomas does a marvellous job portraying difficulties with mental health. he uses interactions between his Sides to carve out fun stories that dramatise the the internal struggles which come with facing complex situations, including those which arise from your specific history and mental illnesses. the writing behind Sanders Sides often uses consideration of real symptoms and therapeutic techniques in order to impart useful advice to the audience who may be struggling with similar issues. with all of this in mind, i thoroughly believe that a good chunk of you are correct about this new Side (foreshadowed in Logan’s eyes) being Wrath, or some variant of Stress or Anger, and here’s why: 

Logan is the side of Thomas which is constantly needing to pick up the slack. not only does he spend a good deal of his time de-escalating conflict between the other Sides, he is constantly letting his own dreams (and consequently, needs) fall by the wayside to comfort, validate and assist Thomas' overall desires. we even literally see him benched during the court case with Janus - his input is considered unimportant unless he is deemed as the voice of reason. with this understanding, Logan is viewed by the other Sides as a Side who doesn’t need help. He’s Logic, so they believe he always knows what is appropriate, and how to control himself - or even that he doesn’t need to control himself at all.  yet i don’t believe this to be the case, and i think ‘Working THROUGH Intrusive Thoughts’ foreshadows this in an intriguing way: by utilising the dynamic between Logan and Remus. for context, i am speaking as an individual who suffers from Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (CPTSD), a form of PTSD. whilst the Thomas we know in the Sanders Sides universe is of course somewhat sanitised and simplified for the easier imparting of moral lessons, we know that this Thomas suffers from issues with intrusive thoughts, low self-esteem, and high anxiety. whether or not these can all be attributed to an underlying condition is irrelevant, but what is intriguing is whether these symptoms are being exacerbated by traumatic, triggering or otherwise stressful events affecting Thomas’ life - which, based on the direction ‘Working THROUGH Intrusive Thoughts’ went (using the relationship with Nico as a conduit), i think is true. when you experience a number of traumatic events or an acute amount of stress, your Logic can become faulty. let’s think about Logan not as a super-genius who just knows what is the correct thing to do all of the time: his knowledge comes from a bank of information and experiences, which he constantly uses to provide a ‘rational’ stance next to the more ‘emotional’ traits of each Side. yet Logic relies on evidence in order to build up this ‘rationality’. let’s think about a scenario wherein you are told every day by someone that you are ugly. now, if this occurred later in life, your Logic might have already rationalised that this is not the case - that you are beautiful just as you are, that this person is seeking to hurt you, that they are projecting, etc. your Logic would make those reasonable counterpoints based on past experience. however, if you were told by multiple people throughout your life, every day, that you are ugly - say, from caregivers, or close friends - you would internalise ‘i am ugly’ as part of that internal Logic. in the first scenario, you would be able to accurately evaluate the thought, ‘i am ugly’ as a cognitive distortion. however, in the latter scenario, you may be unable to, because you have this bank of ‘evidence’ that other people perceive this as reality. even if those people are abusers, or have an ulterior motive, the notion will be internalised and become your reality - so your Logic will say, ‘i am ugly, based on all of the evidence.’  i find this interesting because in this latest episode, they specifically had Logan call attention to cognitive distortions. we must remember that Logan is a part of Thomas. this is Thomas attempting to rationalise with himself, to implement mindfulness and CBT techniques which he knows to be successful, because they have worked in the past and he has it on scientific authority that they help with intrusive thoughts. but this leads us to a question: what happens when you experience so many traumatic events, or so much stress, that your Logic turns against you and begins to validate your intrusive thoughts?  imagine for a moment Logan’s awesome rational power - but levied in support of all of Thomas’ deepest fears. in my own experience with CPTSD, a horribly thorny mental trap is the one you fall into when you start down the path of ‘i must be a horrible person, just like they said. i must have deserved everything done to me. look at all of the evidence.’ these thoughts often appear rational due to the intense nature of the sufferer’s pain, particularly if that pain is repeated or prolonged. i believe that Logan’s outburst, paired with Thomas’ fretting over not receiving a call back from Nico, are supposed to represent the building stages of this mental trap. such thoughts are difficult to emerge from, but they become even more difficult to deal with when met with a powerful emotion: Rage. if you have cause to think thoughts of the ‘i am a disgusting human being’ variety thanks to trauma, stress or similar negative events, often there is a good deal of pent-up Rage stored alongside. justifiable Rage, one might say - it certainly feels so in the mind of someone who has suffered so terribly. if one is prone to hating themselves, feeling inadequate or other fertile breeding ground for intrusive thoughts, they may also sometimes snap into the opposite extreme - becoming infuriated by everything that has happened to them, and that they are still needing to deal with yet more pain in the present. this is something i have suffered from personally: when mixed with trauma, it is equal parts emotional dysregulation, and being triggered by something. you might be enRaged by the idea that you were ever ‘passive’ as a victim of something terrible, and want to ‘fight back’. in other words, the emotional state of your Rage will feel justified - and this can cause you to engage in some deeply destructive behaviours. this is why i believe this new Dark Side will be Rage (or an equivalent). Logan’s ‘STOP IGNORING ME!’ speaks of a breaking point brought on by years of fixing other people’s problems, only to receive very little in return. there’s a misconception that people who are ‘good’ at handling stress or fixing other people’s problems (i.e., not showing much of the strain) are simply less stressed as a whole, and therefore should be saddled with yet more stress. Logan’s screaming at Remus, and Remus’ delight at Logan’s response, shows us that Logan is exhausted from all of the hard work that he’s had to do in order to fight Thomas’ intrusive thoughts and cognitive distortions, alongside the massive amount of stress in his life. likewise, by giving into his impulsivity and opening up more opportunities for further stress, Thomas has allowed Logan - and his Logic - to become vulnerable to Remus and intrusive thoughts. Logan may have successfully been able to dispel the intrusive thoughts which had no basis in reality (for instance, a murderer hiding in Thomas’ closet) - but what happens if Thomas is given validation for an intrusive thought? in other words - what if Logan feels he has reason to listen to Remus? i believe this Rage has been simmering within Thomas for a long time, and his debut is going to be explosive. there are lots of ways this debut could be written; some have theorised that Logic and Rage will be a kind of antithesis to the Creativitwins, wherein the two are fused as Thomas has internalised his Rage as having a Logical root. this would have Rage not as a separate side, but a kind of version or alternate mindset for Logan, a bit like how he was when in Virgil’s room. i would not be surprised at all for this episode to include both Remus and Janus - Remus, revelling in the intrusive thoughts which Logan/Rage is now allowing to fly free, and Janus, delighting in Logan/Rage’s validation of destructive behaviours, which may well include Deceit. i could also see Virgil being drawn in by this irresistible combination of Anxiety-fuelling thoughts - intrusive thoughts inspiring inadequacy, Deceit inspiring fear of being found out, and the terror of Logic being twisted to validate every fear Virgil has ever had for Thomas. you know when someone has hurt you really badly, and so in your head you come up with countless (awful, unrealistic, hurtful) ways to ‘get back at them’? that’s what i think the next Sanders Sides episode is going to be like.  of course, like Anxiety, Intrusive Thoughts and Deceit, Rage will have his uses too. i believe, if any of this theorising is correct, that the next Sanders Sides episode will follow a narrative discussing if Rage is justified when one is hurt to a massive extreme, and what Logic can one follow when it backs up every destructive impulse. are you being Logical if you are full of Rage? basically, i think Logan (influenced by a breaking point and giving over to Rage) is going to do everything in his power to be destructive, under the idea that it is the only Logical thing to do. i believe he will fall to the horrific power of cognitive distortions and mental illness, and that the other Sides will need to use their strengths to bring him back. anyway, that’s all my thoughts! my apologies for any inaccuracies, or if anything in here was upsetting. i’d love to hear what you think about this, and your own theories! :D take care 💏

[percywinchester27]

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-40)

Word count: 4.8K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: Fluff, angst, feels, sickness

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23​​. You’re a Rockstar <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

No one talked to you today, the whispers though, had escalated. No one was bothering to keep it quiet either. Not just your classmates, even the faculty kept giving you looks, ranging from distrust to pity. Professor Whitman, who never cared much about anything, took a whole minute to find you in the class and give you a once over, like he was seeing you for the first time- Sam Winchester’s flighty wife, back to ruin his life again.

The judgement you could take. The pity was painful. What did they see? A girl who couldn’t appreciate a good man? Or as much as you hated to think of it that way- a girl who couldn't be a mother again.

It came as a surprise when Jody called you to her office after the class. When you followed her in, she closed the door behind and unexpectedly pulled you into a hug.

“I’m sorry about all of this, Y/N,” she said. “It’s awful.”

You waited for her to let go of you then asked, “How much trouble is Sam in?”

Jody pursed her lips. “I want to say, ‘not much’ but we’ll only know on Monday, I suppose.”

“Are you part of the enquiry committee?”

She nodded. “All of the freshman faculty panel is on there. You have nothing to worry about, Y/N. Your grades are impeccable. You can’t possibly be sleeping with all of us.”

“I’m not even sleeping with Sam!” You let out, frustrated. “And I’m more worried about what happens to him.” You were a student. The most they could do is sack you from the students committee and bump down your grades. 

Jody regarded you for a moment. “The two of you are so similar. It’s uncanny.”

She sighed. “I’ll be upfront with you, Y/N. As much as I’ve tried to shake them, Sam’s priorities are set. Even absent, you were very high up on that list. With you in front of him, there are very few things Sam wouldn’t give up for you.”

You already knew that. But was it right to let him make all those sacrifices for someone as undeserving as you?

The thought plagued you after you’d left Jody’s office, just as it had plagued you for the past two days. Outside, you ran into Madison.

“Oh, I was looking for you,” she said. “Sorry, I missed the first few lectures, but I have news for you. One good, one bad.”

“Bad one first,” you said, apprehensive. 

Madison made a face. “Starting the day after tomorrow, I have no place to live.”

“What? Didn’t you have a lease for the whole year?”

“Lacey is screwing someone, who knows someone else who knows the hostel director. And, well, long story short, my lease got prematurely terminated.”

Anger flared inside you again. This was happening to Madison only because she was staunchly standing with you. 

“I want you to come house hunting with me. My brother’s agreed to help me out with the money. So, I’m good to go.”

The idea popped up in your head immediately. “Why don’t you move in with me?” 

Her eyebrows knitted together. “Meg?”

“Meg’s almost moved out next door. I was supposed to put out an add for a roommate but with everything that’s going on…” Convincing Meg to continue with the move had been very difficult. She thought it was some sort of betrayal to leave you by yourself in all this mess. Cas supported her on that. However, everyone was camping in your living room anyway. 

Ultimately, you had to put your foot down and tell her to move her ass out. Your life might always remain a tragedy. It shouldn’t pause her or Cas’s life. She had still slept on your sofa last night.

“You’re serious?” Madison was trying her best to contain her excitement.

“As a heart attack.”

She let out a loud squeal and tackled you. “This is the best thing ever. We’ll be roomies!”

“Not if you call me that.”

Madison’s laughter rang out in your ears. “Now you’ve already offered. You can’t take it back, roomie.”

“Wait, what’s the good news?” 

Her face split into a huge grin. “I heard from the HR at Acton Gris. They won’t hire me as an intern. But she asked me to apply for the position of summer associate next year. She said my chances looked great.”

“That’s wonderful!”

“Yes! I’m thinking of applying for an on campus job this year.”

Madison was sincere, smart and she worked very hard. No wonder good things were in store for her. “Let me talk to Molly today. See if she has some inside intel on vacancies.”

“You’d do that?” Madison couldn’t stop beaming and you smiled right along with her. “The world is a much better place with you in it.”

Not everyone thought that. Following the pattern of the past few days, Rebecca decided to show her face again after the lecture. You had been expecting her at this point. Maybe she couldn’t sleep without venting off her frustration on you. As usual, she had Lacey next to her, who really had gone fully darkside.

“Missing your Professor?”

You saw Madison start, but Rebecca put in. “Oh, stop being her Lapdog, Maxwell. You don’t have to rollover each time she blows a whistle.”

“It’s alright, Maddie,” you said in a calm voice. “As it happens, I do miss him very much.”

“I hope at least the sex was worth it,” said Lacey.

You grinned at her. “Mind-blowing, actually. I remember this one time, I was screaming his name for literal hours. God, the things that man can do. It’s in-credi-ble.” You drew out the last word with a relish.

Lacey’s jaw dropped.

Rebecca recovered quickly. “Christ! You’re shameless. That man’s married with a son. Have you got no shame at all?”

“Weren’t you the one making out with Sam at Maddie’s birthday party in the bar restroom?” You shot back. “I remember you described the bit about feeling his abs in extreme details. He wore his wedding ring around his neck. So how are you not shameless?”

Rebecca’s face reddened in an instant. “What… how…?”

“Doesn’t feel so good when the finger is pointed at you. Right, Rebecca? When you’re the one being put on a spot and your character is being brought into question. It was okay for you to make out with a professor. Why are the rules so different for me?”

“I- I was drunk that night. And I never slept with him!”

“Don’t you dare paint him in that light. As if you were some drunk woman he took advantage of in a toilet cubicle.” You spat. “You’re so desperate that you don’t think twice about lying over something so demeaning. You didn’t touch Sam because at 2 in the night, he wasn’t even there in that bar. So shut that bullshit.”

There was a crowd gathered around you now, and she didn’t like her words coming back to bite her.

“How do you know where Sam was that night?” Rebecca questioned, clearly baffled and out of her element, but trying to salvage the situation and save face.

You rolled your eyes. “We’re having an affair, remember? Keep up, Rebecca. You filed that complaint. Also, don’t worry about his wife, really. She totally doesn’t mind.” You winked.

The murmur around you was starting to intensify. You didn’t know how long it would be before the actual story came out. Or if it ever would come out. Neither did you care. You didn’t owe an explanation to any of these people. 

Rebecca breathed out harshly, and spoke through her teeth, contempt dripping in each word. “You’re disgusting. That child of his-”

“Don’t. Don’t utter a word about that boy,” you hissed, the anger finally burning through. “You’ve done enough harm to Sam’s reputation. But I swear to God, Rebecca, you’ll live to regret it if you so much as dare to think about Max, you deplorable excuse of a living thing.”

The warning was so raw, she flinched back from you as you stormed out. 

Madison did not follow you to the library. She knew when you wanted to be left alone. Attacking Sam was one thing, but you really did want to rip Rebecca’s throat for wanting to bring Max in the middle of it. The fierce protectiveness you felt for him was like nothing else you had experienced before. 

Throughout the following hour, you kept glancing at the door of the library, expecting Max to walk in. Sam had said he would visit. 

Maybe you would ask him to read out to you today. If anything, that could fix your mood.

“Umm… Y/N?”

You looked up to see Molly standing over you. 

“Hey. I didn’t see you there.”

She shuffled from one foot to the other looking at you awkwardly.

You squared your shoulders, realising what she might’ve heard. “Anything you want?”

“I- I wanted to say sorry.”

That brought you up short. “Why?”

Molly ran her fingers through her red hair. “I didn’t know you were… you know… Sam’s wife, and I said horrible stuff to you the other day.”

It hadn’t actually been that horrible. 

“I’d heard the rumours but I swear I didn’t believe a word. Then I ran into Chase Lincoln yesterday. He told me.”

“Everything?”

Molly nodded sadly. “It was wrong of me to make assumptions, Y/N. What happened in Sam’s life was none of my business. And for the reason you left to be so horrifying? I could have never imagined. I’m really, really sorry. I don’t know how to apologize.”

“Stop saying sorry,” you said at once. “I know you’ve always meant well for Sam and for me, Molly. Everyone likes to gossip. It’s no big deal. You didn’t hurt or offend me.”

“There must be something I can do, novia.”

“Never bring it up again. Please. Let’s just forget that conversation happened.”

You saw her eyes start to fill up. “Take the rest of the week off, yeah? Come back Monday.”

“You’re low on staff already.” You did not want anyone’s sympathy.

“I’m not doing this for you,” she said. “Spend the weekend with Sam. He’ll need a distraction more than ever before that hearing on Monday. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Molly disappeared into the librarian’s room before the waterworks started. She didn’t want you to see her tear up so you didn’t follow her in, continuing with your sideways glances at the door. The sharp ring of your phone made you jump.

“Hello?” You answered the unknown number

“Y/N? It’s Alex. Sam left me your number in case of emergencies.” She sounded frantic.

“Is everything okay?” 

“Can you please come over? Max is really sick and… he’s… he’s asking for you.”

*****

Instead of knocking on the door, you straight up punched the security key and barged into the house.

“Max? Alex?”

“Up here!” You heard Alex’s voice. Taking two steps at a time you made it to Max’s room. Your chest contracted, seeing Max in the bed. He was curled up on his side, cheeks wet, face puffy from crying. 

Alex was sitting on a chair next to him, distressed.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, rushing to Max’s side and placing a hand against his forehead. He was burning up.

“I don’t know,” said Alex, “He was fine when I picked him up from school. He said he was feeling sick half an hour ago and now he’s running a fever. I tried calling his usual doctor but it says the number doesn’t exist anymore. He’s been crying and calling out for Sam and... you.”

“Did you try Sam?”

“He’s not reachable.”

“Max, honey, what’s wrong?” You asked as gently as you could. “Do you hurt somewhere?”

He opened his eyes and your heart lurched at the tears in them. “Stomach. My stomach hurts. I want dad.”

“Sam will be home at night. He’ll be with you.” You turned to Alex. “Is he allergic to something?” 

“Not that I know of.”

You were sure he hadn’t had outside food in at least a week, so food poisoning was out.

“Does your body hurt, baby?”

Max nodded slowly, drawing into himself. “And my head.”

“Alex, could you please find the first aid box and get me a thermometer?”

She scampered off to find it, relieved to have someone else take charge of the situation. Keeping one hand on Max’s forehead, you reached out for your purse with the other and pulled out your phone. Thankfully, the number was on the speed dial. He picked up the phone on the second ring.

“Cas, where are you?”

“At the hospital. Everything okay?”

“No. Max is running a high fever. I’d guess around 101. He says he’s feeling sick, and has stomach and body ache.”

There was a pause, then Cas said. “Can you drive him to the hospital? Bring him directly to the paeds ward on the 7th floor. I’ll see you there in fifteen minutes.”

Alex was back with the thermometer. 102.3. Thankfully, she had a license and Claire’s car was in their driveway. You asked her to bring it out front.

After she left, you gently coaxed Max into a sitting position, he looked drowsy and was still sniffling a little. “Honey, listen to me. You’re going to have to deal with a little inconvenience, okay? We’re going to drive you to the hospital very quickly.”

“Hospital?” He mumbled. eyes filling up again. 

“It’s just Cas there,” you soothed him. “You remember Cas, right? We all played jenga together.”

Max opened his mouth to say something, instead his eyes widened and threw up over the front of your sweater and into your lap. 

He started crying immediately. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Your eyes filled up. “It’s okay, baby. It’s no big deal.” You removed the puke covered sweater and used to wipe away the vomit stuck to your jeans. “See, it’s all gone. No need to worry at all.”

The retching had left him weak and shivering. 

“Just stay put a minute.” You hurriedly tossed your sweater in the hamper by the door, and pulled on one of Sam’s overlarge shirts over your T-shirt. Once back, you grabbed Max’s grey blanket and wrapped it around him. Slinging your purse around your torso, you lifted him in your arms and carried into the car that was already waiting at the curb. You held Max close to your chest in the backseat, whispering soft reassurances in his ears. 

Just as Alex pulled up in front of the hospital, Max threw up on you again. It made him cry harder. You realised it was not just humiliating for him, he was missing his dad terribly. 

“Max, honey, it’s totally okay,” you assured him, kissing his brow. “I used to throw up so much as a kid, gran used to call me projectile Y/N. Just puke all around me all the time. Hell, ask your dad. He held my hair when I threw up in the toilet. It’s my jam. And we’ve got a  towel now. Let’s clean you up, okay?”

Thankfully, the blanket wasn’t soiled, so you could keep it around him as you carried him in the lift.

Cas was waiting for you there. He immediately guided you to a bed and laid Max down on it. You started to step back.

“Y/N, don’t go,” Max rasped out. 

“I’m right here, Chirp. I’m not going anywhere, but Cas needs to take a look at you.”

Max still reached out with his hand. You looked at Cas. He gave you a quick nod and you rushed to Max’s side once more, grasping his outstretched fingers tightly. Cas pressed Max’s tummy, asking where exactly it hurt, then checked the temperature again along with the pulse. You watched apprehensively as Cas pulled down Max’s eyelids and asked more questions. Meanwhile, the chills kept getting worse.

“It looks like he’s caught a viral fever. The nurse outside told me it’s been doing a round at the school. We’ve had many kids this week.”

“Why is he throwing up then?”

“It’s probably the phlegm. I don’t think there’s a reason to worry. I’ll give him an IV with paracetamol and nausea suppressants. He’ll feel much better in a few hours.” Cas hesitated. “Maybe you should ask Sam before we start the treatment. Only he can sign off on the papers. You’ll need the details of the health insurance.”

“I can’t get to him. We’ve been trying non-stop.” 

Would Sam want you to make such decisions on his behalf? Max was looking paler than usual and was clearly in pain. You couldn’t wait till midnight to start him on medication. It was killing you to see him hurting like this.

“Screw the insurance. I’ll pay whatever the bill comes out to be… and I’ll sign off on the papers as well.”

Cas gave you an apprehensive look. “Y/N?”

“Look,” you said through your teeth, “I’m still his legal guardian. I have that right. Just start him on the medication. I can’t bear to see him like this.”

“Alright.” Cas said something to the nurse behind him who rushed out and then came back with a syringe. 

“This is going to hurt just a little, Max,” Cas said, flicking at the needle.

You crouched down next to Max’s head. “You’re my brave boy, aren’t you? One little prick and that will be all. You’ll feel so much better afterwards. Can you do that?” 

Max gave you one quick jerk of his neck. “Close your eyes.” He did. 

Cas pushed the needle into the tiny crease of Max’s arm and you flinched, tears pouring down your cheeks. Max did not even make a whimper. The nurse stuck a piece of white tape over the puncture mark after Cas was done.

“You need to swallow these two little tablets,” Cas said, handing them to Max along with a glass of water. Max looked at you and you nodded encouragingly. Without any fuss, he did as Cas said. You hugged Max very tightly to your chest. “You’re the bravest little thing in this world, you know that? And I’m so damn proud of you. You get every cookie you can think of when you feel better, yeah?”

“We’ll keep him here till the nausea subsides,” said Cas. “Once he feels better, you can take him home.”

Cas seemed concerned, but it wasn’t directed at Max- which made you feel better. It was directed at you. “You better sign off on those papers, Y/N.”

“Can you please bring them here?” You pleaded. “I don’t want to leave Max.” The boy in question was still hugging your middle tightly.

“Of course.”

It was with shivering hands that you filled out the form. You stared at the paper for a whole minute before ticking off on the small box in the relationship to the patient column against mother. Max had fallen asleep in your arms and the tears just wouldn’t stop. You knew he was going to be okay, the fever was already coming down and he had stopped shivering. Sweat dewed up on his forehead. 

Occasionally you wiped it off with the back of your sleeve. 

But you were terrified of this feeling- like the world would go dark if a single wrong thing happened to this boy. There was a point in your life when you were ready to own up to this feeling, looking forward to it even- and then you had lost it, along with every other emotion in your heart. Since the day you had met Max, you’d been dancing along the edge of the precipice of this very feeling- this selfless, immense love. Not ready to take the leap. Scared that you’d be shattered if you did.

Were you scared of being a bad mother? Or were you simply scared of being a mother? 

As you sat there, alone, in the small clinical room, with Max softly snoring in your lap, you realised that what you truly feared above and beyond everything was giving in to feeling this love and losing it again. 

If you accepted him as your son, and then something happened to him, you wouldn’t make it out of it alive. Literally. Not accepting Sam’s love and a place in his and Max’s life was not only a product of your doubts and self-hatred. It was a plain survival instinct. The epiphany was so strong, it left you breathless.

You felt a hand against your shoulder. Cas’s blue eyes were sympathetic in their depth. “You can take him home now, Y/N.” He didn’t try to reassure you beyond it. He had a subtle way of comforting without saying the words out loud.

You called Alex again, who had been reading in the waiting room and she drove you back to Max’s place. He’d been asleep through the ride, right until you put him to bed. Insisting that Alex go back home and study for her exams, you stripped down to your tank top, pulled on a pair of Sam’s tracks. After making sure that Max was still out, you cleaned up your clothes, and the mess on the floor and side of Max’s bed. You didn’t dare close the door of the bathroom, lest Max call out to you and you couldn’t answer. 

Taking the chance, you made some chicken soup for him, and only then did you wake him up, gently. 

Max called out for Sam the moment he opened his eyes and your heart broke again. Doing your best to reassure him that Sam was on his way, you cajoled Max into changing out of his dirty clothes and into fresh ones. 

He refused to eat the soup, but with soft insistence, you persuaded him to finish half a bowl of it. 

“You’ll read to me?” He said in a muted, dull voice as you tucked him back in the bed.

“Of course, sweetheart, what do you want me to read?”

“Anything.”

You looked around the room, your eyes landing on the only book over his nightstand. 

“Alright, here we go.” You flipped to the page with a bookmark. “We could not wait for Atticus to come home for dinner, but called and said we had a big surprise for him. He seemed surprised when he saw most of the back yard in the front yard, but he said we had done a jim-dandy job. “I didn’t know how you were going to do it,” he said to Jem, “but from now on I’ll never worry about what’ll become of you, son, you’ll always have an idea...”

*********

It was stupid and incredibly irresponsible on Sam’s part to let his phone drain out completely. Even worse, he’d left it to charge in the meeting room and forgotten to check it in the next couple of hours while he met with the children in the boy’s home. He came back to 17 missed calls and 23 text messages- from Alex and Y/N. 

Max was sick and he’d had no idea.

Sam had frantically called first thing after going through the texts. Y/N had picked up only to whisper that Max was better and asleep, and that Sam needn’t worry. For the next five hours, Sam worried ceaselessly anyway. It drove Chase up the wall, but he played his music loudly in the car all the way till Sam dropped him off and didn’t point out how Sam was a total maniac. 

The clock on his dashboard blinked 1:22 as he made the bend to his house.

Sam parked the car all wrong in the driveway, barely giving it a second thought before running inside. He should’ve been quieter, knowing Max was asleep, but the anxiety barely kept his legs moving. He would have continued at the same rate through Max’s door if the scene before him hadn’t made him stop.

On the bed, Max was sleeping peacefully. He was dressed in a thin cotton t-shirt, the lower half of his body was covered in his blanket. That wasn’t what made Sam stop. Y/N was curled up beside him, her arm thrown around Max, who was nextled so comfortably in her embrace that he belonged there. Max’s book was balanced over Y/N’s hip, wedged open on the page she had been reading out of. On the nightstand, stood a bowl of cold soup, half empty, along with water and strips of medicine. The table on Y/N’s side held a cooking pot filled with water and a washcloth lay dipped in it. She’d been nursing him- from fever or the sweat, Sam couldn’t say.

Slowly, he walked up to Max, and very very carefully placed the back of his hand on his forehead. No fever. 

Sam looked about himself. The floor was strewn with Max’s clothes that smelled like he had been sick over them. Sam picked up the clothes and carried them to the washing machine. Inside was already a dry load of clothes that belonged to Y/N and him. So Max had thrown up on her. More than once.

Sam knew from the messages that Y/N had taken Max to the hospital- had her friend, whom she trusted implicitly take a look at his son, signed the papers as his guardian and paid the bill out of her pocket.

The thought occurred to Sam as he undressed for the night. In that last message, Y/N had apologised for signing off on Sam’s behalf, as if he could ever be mad at her for dropping whatever she was doing to look after his son, the way a mother would.

Sam understood now why Max had thrown a fit when Sam had forbidden him from seeing Y/N. It had hurt Sam that he couldn’t be enough for Max, that Max was looking for something more in Y/N. But seeing them together now, Sam could see he had been completely wrong. Max wasn’t asking something more, he’d been asking for what already belonged to him- Y/N’s love. Max had been right all along.

Sam pulled the covers and duvet off his bed and dragged to Max’s room where he laid them out at the foot of Max’s bed, so he’d be sleeping next to him on the floor. An alarm started going off on Y/N’s phone, and Sam jumped to turn it off. It was already 2 O’ clock. She had set successive alarms for every hour of the night, Sam presumed to check on Max. Sam turned off all of them. He was home now, he could take care of it. 

He checked Max’s temperature once more- still normal- and then bent down to place a kiss on his forehead. It was almost November. Max always had bouts of viral or flu in the cold months. He should have foreseen it. If Y/N hadn’t been around…

The expression on her face was so peaceful as she held onto his boy, tears sprang into Sam’s eyes. This was everything he wanted in his life. Everything. Right in front of him. He bent down once more and planted a soft kiss on her cheek. She didn’t wake at his touch, but adjusted herself closer to Max on the tiny bed, the book falling off her hip with a soft thud onto the thick carpet. 

Sam lay down on the floor, thinking of a night very long ago when Y/N had fallen asleep on the  sofa in his house, back in Lawrence. He’d read to her from this very book that night- for the first time. Sam had slept besides her on the floor that night as well. A writer would have called the parallel poetic… but Sam saw it for what it was, shrouded in a mist of uncertainty all around him- a haunting ache inside his soul.

He couldn’t thank her for what she’d done for his Max today- not only would that gesture be insufficient, it would be insulting. No, Sam wouldn’t thank her. Instead, he would check up on Max every hour, make her breakfast in bed, and iron her clothes before she woke up, so she wouldn't be late for classes tomorrow. He would pack her a lunch and kiss her goodbye at the door. Maybe she would see through him and understand how incredibly grateful he was for today… and how tragically hopeful he was for the future, when he could do these simple things everyday without the excuse of an unsaid thank you.

“I love you, Darling,” he whispered. “It can only ever be you.”

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

A/N 2: It’s been a hard, awful few days. I must be made up of stronger stuff than I thought I was.

Please do let me know if you liked this part. Reblogs and comments are very much appreciated. 

Five more chapters to go!

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[intotherumiverse]

Chapter 2

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: I’m still on my fae bull shit so yee have fun with this  ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: blood, violence, pov changes ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ: @lilsparkyswife​, a brief mention of @katsumiiii​ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1.9k 

Yvonne’s Pov

The Summer Court was known for a lot of things. Yes, we did the dirty work for people who didn’t want to be seen doing it. We lied for liars, stole for stealers, and cheated cheaters. But we were big on loyalty. I mean if we couldn’t trust one of our own, who could we trust? But driving back home, knowing what we had to tell Bakugou….

Maybe it was better if we lied.

We found him training. Sweat dripped down his face as more and more holograms blur around him. His muscles tighten in frustration as the holograms look like they are about to win.  Power training was something I always hated. We were already fast and strong, why work yourself to the bone to gain some other ability. But some people did it, Like (Y/n), but others have tried every day to improve themselves to no avail. All of us has given up at some point, Bakugou was just a matter of time.

The hologram knocked his sword out o his hand, and he glances at it as if something miraculous was going to happen. When he realizes nothing is happening, he lets out a grunt of anger.

“He’s rarely happy anymore,” I think to myself. “ Well, it wasn’t unusual, well for Bakugou at least, but his obsession was going a bit too far”

“Good luck with him,” Mina says while Mira walks away.

“If you live we’ll see you in the meeting room. You know where, so don’t die.”

“Gee, Such wonderful friends,” I say back.

. Turning back towards the entrance of the training room, I walk, cleared my throat, and spoke up

“Bakugou?”

All I get is another grunt as a reply, knowing he was somewhat listening. He continued his workout, concentrating on summoning a weapon in his hand.

“Bakubitch!”

He gives me a glare. Well, that got his attention.

“Whatdoyouwant?”

I hated when he was like this, not wanting to listen to anyone else even his friends. Steeling myself, I spit out the ugly truth to him

“(Y/n)gotkidnappedanditwasn’tourfault.”

“What? You said that too fast for me to even hear.”

“(Y/n) got kidnapped-”

“HUH?? HOW’D YOU IDIOTS LET THAT-”

“Will you shut up and let me explain?”

Rolling my eyes I wanted until Bakugou was calm, well calm enough, to begin.

“We had a mission. One assigned to us by the King. Someone from Spring Court wanted someone from Autumn off their back and they had enough money to pay for it. Shit went sideways and long story short, (Y/n) got taken… by Izuku Midoriya.”

I barely had time to doge before the knife was embedded into the target behind me. Such primal behavior, attacking me without warning.

“So you’re telling me… Izuku Midoriya took (Y/n) and you and the rest of the team, just fucking stood there?”

Another knife dodged. He’s making it harder and harder for me not to hit him

“Will you stop using me as target practice long enough so we can get her back?”

“It’s the Autumn Court. Who knows where they took her? She could be halfway to the gates of hell and back before we figure it out.”

Walking over to the target and prying the daggers off of it, I threw them back in rapid succession. He dodged the first one, but the second one scratched his face, leaving a thin line of blood in its wake.

“Next time you throw a knife at me make sure it hit its intended mark”

And with that, I leave the training room.

(Y/n)‘s POV

Being interrogated by the Autumn Court was… It’s an experience, let's just say. They had a lot of ways of making you talk, and once you open your mouth there is no stopping them.

Due to their power, vocals are the thing that they focus heavily on. It’s easy to fall into their trap but easy to evade it if you know what you’re doing. Just don’t say anything. I’ve been doing that for three hours now.

Granted it was hard. They tried everything short of laying hands on me. Ripping my dress, threatening my family and friends, you know the usual. But they couldn’t get me to talk. Then they called the motherfucking prince, who also happens to be the person I wanted dead.

“Just answer the question, doll, and you can go home.” Stupid motherfucker, staring down at me with that condescending smile I think.  The haze of his power swirling around me, deep and smoky. Izuku was powerful, yes. But against me, he was nothing.

Smiling at him, I think to myself ‘You’ll get me to talk when I’m dead and gone’

Tracing his hand on my jawline slowly, like I was glass, brittle and ready to break. He stares deep into my eyes and for a moment, a hint of a second, I see the pain in his eyes. Something indescribable, intangible, but somehow there. And the moment is over. Harshly grabbing my chin, the pain is covered with feral, oddly flat green eyes.

“Tell me. Or else we’ll have to resort to… uglier methods of gaining information from you. And trust me, darling, you won’t like those methods.”

I took the saliva from my own mouth, aimed carefully, and spit on him. It landed directly on his eye.

“You fucking cunt!” He recoils in disgust, wiping his eye fervently. I smile in pride, knowing I got under his skin.

He backs up away from the cell I was in, taking one more look at my triumphant face, before saying to the guards, “Make sure she doesn’t escape.”

I heard his angry footsteps echo, and finally, the silence came.

The guards snicker at the recent events, before one of them saying,

“You’re going to regret that, you know? No one messes with Prince Midoriya and lives to tell the tale.”

“Guess I’ll be the first,” I replied back.

And then I broke the chains.

Izuku’s Pov

Fuck I missed her. She was the part of me that I never knew I needed. She was my blood, my bones, framing me into what I am now. And seeing her now, it made my bones ache, my blood sing. An agonizing, beautiful song. Placing my head into my hands, I bite the insole of my palms.

‘Where did it all go wrong?’ I thought to myself.

Sorting myself out, I walk through the quiet corridors of the Autumnal Palace. The sun shining through the high glass windows, mocking me with its beauty. It seems fit, having such a wonderful day go on outside as I suffer internally. With hastened pace, I make my way towards my personal team.

Stopping in front of the common room, I fix myself, running my hairs through my hair before walking in.

“Oh hey man,” Sero was the first one who saw me, giving a toothy smile “How’d the interrogation go…” he trails off, seeing the scowl on my face.

“So not well” One of Shoji’s many arms pops up and says.

Choosing my words carefully I say “It didn’t go as expected. (Y/n)’s a difficult one.”

Difficult wasn’t even the basis to cover it. She was infuriating, complex, and every time I see her it spurs my heart on erratically. But how could I say that in words?

My team was a good one, personally trained by myself, but sometimes they were a little too bit much.

Ochako pipes up from where she was sitting “Izu, don’t worry. We finally caught (Y/n)! After two and half years no less. All your hard work won’t be for nothing.”

“Yeah, man! This is cause for celebration! We finally caught (Y/n), Summer Court’s deadliest assassin. It’s time to kick back and celebrate-” At that moment, Ojirio storms in, face in pain as blood soaks his normally white clothes. The look on his face said that something was clearly wrong.

“(Y/n) escaped)”

Cocking my eyebrow I stare at Sero.

“Celebration huh?”

(Y/n)’s Pov

I hated being chased. Everyone talks about the exhilarating feeling of almost not making it but does anyway, but all I feel is annoyed. Turning another corner I hear in the distance. Luckily the guards tattered the ends of my dress, so it was easier to run in it

“Don’t let her escape! We need her alive!”

‘Autumn Court’ I thought to myself ‘One person escapes and they go bat shit crazy. Well, it is me.”

I look around looking for a place to hide out until the guards’ pass. Then looking up I spot...

“A vent. Perfect.” I whisper to myself. Working quickly, I made my way into the ventilation system. I keep myself there, holding my breath until I hear footsteps. It was two of the workers there.

“It’s such a shame,” one says to another. “King Toshinori has never done anything helpful since the Prince had been announced.” The other one shakes their head shamefully.

“I know right? Even since Izuku became prince, he’s nowhere to be seen or heard. It’s like he just placed all the burden on Prince Izuku and moved on with his life.”

Oh? Izuku’s being packed with the burden. I guess Von will find that information useful. Waiting until I couldn’t hear the voices of anyone, I get down from the vents.

“Easy as pie.” I smile at my genius.

“Spread out and find her! She couldn’t have gone far!” I see one the second in command, Ochako Uraraka yells. My smile turns into a grimace at her figure. I’ve never liked her but after the incident three years ago…

I didn’t let myself think of it, rather waited until I couldn’t hear footsteps anymore before dropping out of the vent.

Corridor after corridor, I run the palace. The orange-gold of the palace becoming a blur as I see the doors towards my freedom.

“THERE SHE IS. AFTER HER!” Fuck they found me. I was almost there, just a little more… Then I feel a large object knock into my back.

Giving a little as I went down, I turn quickly. Seeing the familiar hair of…

“(Y/n) don’t do this,” His soft voice rings out, power laced in it even now. “Just come back and we can get you home safely” Gritting my teeth at Izuku, I clench my fist and throw a punch. All the while my other hand summons a small dagger before dipping it in some poison and stabbing Izuku in the thigh.

How dare he. How dare he pretend that he cares, after all, he did to me, to my Court.

“Fuck!” Izuku screams.

Pulling him up by his collar I spit it out.

“Rot in hell.”

In the back, the rest of his team runs, seeing their leader hurt.

Not sticking around, I take off running, getting the doors of the front of the castle.

The night was dark as I fumbled slightly down the stairs of the castle.

‘Shit, shit, shit. I need a place to hide’ I think.

Running towards the car area of the courtyard, I see a black party bus sitting fairly near the gates. Sneaking into the back doors, I sit in the darkness.

“She couldn’t have gone far, split up and search.” I hear the voices agree before splitting off in different directions.

“Well, Well, WELL.” I’m suddenly knocked off my feet, and without another chance to regain my balance, my chin is grabbed. Sharp nails meet my flesh, threatening to make me bleed.

“What should we do with her Dabi?” a feminine voice reaches my ears.

“Drug ‘er. We’ll deal with her when the others come back. Shiggy will know what to do with ‘er”

“Sure.” Something stabbed into my neck and everything goes dark.

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[thebigqueer]

Solangelo - "Lethal Enemies" - One-Shot

Summary: Nico and Will are venturing through Tartarus, and there they meet a familar god: Eros.

Word Count: 2905

SPOILERS: Tower of Nero, Burning Maze; TW: Homophobia/Internalized Homophobia, some violence (and blood but it's not too descriptive), outing mentions

Read on AO3

Heat pulses in the air, scorching Nico’s skin as he and Will stumble through the darkness. He isn’t sure how long they’ve been down here, but his body is already aching and screaming from all the effort of fighting monsters and trying to survive.

Will’s arm brushes against Nico’s, and the child of Hades almost jumps back at the touch. His skin feels feverishly hot, bursting with unnatural heat. When Nico looks up at him, he realizes that Will’s face is severed with scratches, gashes, sweat, and an overall pale wash. Small holes smoke in his CHB T-shirt, and his jeans are ripped at the sides from where a monster clawed him.

At the sight of him, Nico’s chest constricts with sympathy and guilt. As much as he loves Will for coming with him, he knows the kind of pressures that would put on both of them. Will looks so out of place in such a dark, gloomy world, where only terror and misery reside.

To Nico, Will is the complete opposite of terror and misery. He’s the sunshine after a terrible rain storm; he’s the sweetness after the sourness. But here, in the raging darkness, Will looks washed out. He doesn’t belong here.

Tartarus is Nico’s terrifying, unspeakable past; Will is his bright future. The two should not be clashing.

This hell was made to ruin. And it seems like it’s doing its job on Will, too.

Nico slips his fingers into the blond’s and squeezes, pushing his own feverish warmth into his boyfriend. Will turns his face to Nico’s and, for the first time, Nico sees a crack in his eyes - usually so sky blue, they’ve turned almost gray with fear. He’s breaking.

Nico leans into Will’s side, trying to find solace in the overbearing darkness. “It’s only going to get worse,” he mutters.

“Then I’m glad I’m not doing it alone.”

Nico offers a wavering smile, and they continue walking. For the most part, it seems like they’re safe from any monsters, but Nico knows from past experience that he can never be too careful. His eyes swerve all around them, watching out for any new monsters, and his Stygian sword pulses in the darkness.

After a few moments, there’s a shift in the air. It’s still warm and unbearable, but there’s a new scent - like a faint waft of the outside world, the breath of a fresh summer day. It smells almost like Will.

The blood in Nico’s veins buzzes and he stops immediately. Fear courses through his body. Will staggers as the child of Hades grips his wrist and pulls him back. At the sight of Nico’s ashen face, Will leans in. “Everything good?” he asks.

“That smell,” he whispers. “What does it smell like to you?”

“Well,” Will says, eyebrows knitting together as he thinks, “it kind of smells like you, weirdly? Like, the earth after a rainy day.”

That’s all Nico needs to know before panic settles in his chest. His mind crawls with memories and the pain of humiliation he faced just a year ago. Jason, Croatia, Diocletian’s spectre.

“No,” he mutters. “Will, we need to leave.”

Without waiting for a response, Nico tightens his fingers over Will’s wrist and starts to pull him away. But a voice murmurs, “Oh, leaving so soon, child of Hades?” and Nico knows right then and there that he and Will are trapped.

The voice pours over the heat like melted chocolate, smooth and deep, but a dagger of betrayal resides in it. Nico’s heart thuds on overtime and his nerves flair with anxiety, but he knows he can’t go anywhere. This meeting was bound to happen.

“Eros,” Nico hisses.

“Ah,” the voice murmurs. “So you recognize me.”

The god isn’t visible, but Nico can feel his cold presence anyway. “Who would forget such a jackass?”

A low, rumbling laugh echoes around them. Will’s hand releases its hold on Nico’s and lingers over the gun at his side. Nico raises his sword.

“Well, well, well,” the god says, “it looks like you’ve got a new friend here with you. How sweet.”

“Show yourself,” Will demands. “Face us like the hot-headed deity you are.”

Though he can’t see it, Nico still senses the raised eyebrow over the god’s eye. “Oh, he’s feisty, too. You sure have won with him.”

“Stop talking about him like he’s some kind of object,” says Nico. “You heard him. Show yourself.”

The same laughter crashes over them, and after another moment, a being appears. His long, black hair gleams despite the absence of light, and his red eyes glimmer maliciously in the darkness. They stare right through Nico, stabbing him in the face, and suddenly Nico’s hurtling to the past, to the misery. He scowls at the god.

Eros’ wings spread around him, the feathers fluttering a little as he shifts. He crosses his arms and offers a sharp smirk to Will and Nico. “Aw, look at you two,” he purrs. “So young and in love. Ready to fight together in Tartarus.”

“What do you want?” Nico asks, brandishing his sword. “Why are you bothering us?”

Eros’ shoulders rise and fall gracefully in an innocent shrug. “Oh, nothing, really. I was really just hoping to see how you were. I heard you were traveling down here, and I thought I would check on your progress.”

“Well, great. You’ve checked. You can leave.”

He laughs again, a low, tumbling laugh that heightens Nico’s rage. “Ever the sarcastic, child of Hades. No, listen. I can help you.”

“And how will you do that?” Will asks, raising an eyebrow. “You’re nothing more than a love god.”

“Have the Aphrodite children taught you nothing, pitiful child?” Eros hisses. “Love plays an important role in life.”

“I don’t see how love is helpful here,” Nico says, spreading his arms to gesture to the rest of Tartarus. “All I see is pain and misery. You can leave.”

“Oh, but I see where love can become important.” Eros raises a brow and tips his head to the boys. “Are you two not in love?”

Nico blushes. “That is not of your concern.”

“I can influence a lot,” he promises. “Especially the way you two act together. Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase - the two you were oh-so-jealous of only some time ago - came here together. They got away safely. I can influence a lot between you and Will Solace.” He steps forward, and against his lips, a dagger-like smile beams at Nico.

The son of Hades crosses his arms. “I happen to remember that I got through here on my own. Love does not solve all problems.”

Eros raises an eyebrow. “Does it not?” He begins to circle around Will and Nico, glaring at them with his ruby-red eyes. “Tell me, Nico, does Will not make you feel special? Does he not help you feel better?”

Rage billows up in Nico’s chest, pushing against his sternum. “I am happy with Will. But he does not solve my problems, just the way I do not solve his.”

“But you are happier with him, is that right?” Another smile flashes across his mouth. “And who are you to thank for him, hmm? If it were not for me, you would not be here today with him. You would not be happy accepting who you are.”

Nico’s anger rises up to this throat, hot waves of rage crashing against the back of his neck. He surges forward, but Will pulls him back. “No,” he whispers. “He’s a god, Nico. Don’t try.”

Nico glares at Will, but deep down, he knows Will is right. So he sighs and stands still.

“I would not be happy?” he growls. Nico's muscles tighten with rage. “You humiliated me. I wasn’t ready to admit who I was; I wasn’t ready for any of that.” This time, despite Will’s insistence, Nico rushes forward, his anger pulling him toward the god. “It was my choice, and you stole it from me! And you’re congratulating yourself?”

“It’s not like there were many people there,” the god scoffs. “Only Grace.” He pouts. “I heard about the demigod’s untimely death, however. Terribly sorry.”

Nico shakes his head. He knows Eros is just trying to get under his skin by mentioning Jason. He can’t let himself get distracted.

“Your outing of me was not something to celebrate,” hisses Nico. “I spent so much time hating myself, hating Percy because of who I was. When you forced me to blatantly admit that I was gay” - a burst of confidence blooms in Nico’s chest as he says the last word - “I had never felt so violated. I only hated myself more, because I was terrified of who I was. The entire experience was humiliating. You ruined me.”

“Did I?” Eros asks. “The first step in accepting yourself was to admit you were gay in the first place. I pushed you to accept yourself.” He gestures to Will. “Now look where you are! Happy and in love with a boyfriend! Is there anything better?”

Nico’s chest heaves as another wave of rage suffocates him. His body shakes with anger. He feels like a detonating bomb; in just a few seconds, he will explode and destroy everything in the area.

“You only made things worse,” mutters Nico. “I spent days worrying about who was watching me, worrying about how much people knew. I hated myself every moment, every second afterwards, even more so than before you forced me to admit that I was gay.” Nico takes a deep breath, his chest expanding as he does so. “Maybe you’re right - maybe I did need to admit to myself who I was. But it should have been on my own terms. You did not help me accept myself; all you did was make me tell myself what I already knew. You made the entire process of accepting myself more difficult than it needed to be. When I spat out that I liked Percy, I felt… I felt violated. I felt like someone had stabbed me right through the back. I… I hated myself more than I ever did at that moment. I thought it was the end; I thought right then and there, I would die. Not from embarrassment, but from someone else’s hands. My own hands. I thought there was nothing more humiliating than to be forced to tell someone I didn’t know that I was some kind of disgusting creature. I felt so dehumanized.” Nico glares at Eros. “Don’t feel happy that you did that. You did not improve my life; only I did that. Not Will, not you, not any of my friends. Me. Do not take credit for my accomplishments.” Hot fury seethes in Nico’s core, washes up over his chest, crashes against his throat, trickles down his arms and legs. His lungs expand and exhale as he breathes hard, each breath like acid burning down his sinuses. “My work has been looked over too much, ever since I first learned of demigods. Do not take the credit for my self-improvement, because you are one of the many reasons I was destroyed in the first place.”

For a moment, no one speaks. An eerie silence lingers in the air, holding Nico in a chokehold. Eros simply watches him, his eyebrows lowered and a fierce, judgmental, angry look glowing in his red eyes. Will tilts his head at Nico and offers the ghost of a smile. I'm proud of you, he seems to be saying.

Nico doesn’t return it, but even then, a little flower of confidence blooms in his chest.

Eros crosses his arms once more, airing his defiance out into the open. Arrogance sparks along his wings. He raises a brow at Nico. “You have become more bold in yourself. Self-assured.” A sharp smile grates against his mouth. “And that would not have happened had you not admitted you were gay at all. I may have humiliated you, but in the end, you have become stronger through your pain. You have become sturdy, grounded into the world. I have led you to your happiness.” He offers a secretive smile to Will. “And your happiness is your boyfriend. You’re welcome.”

Nico watches Eros, glaring at his over-confident face, at his casual posture, at the pride in his eyes. He is too assured in himself, too hot-headed.

The sword in Nico’s hand grows heavier, a hum buzzing through the metal. Irritation and anger swirl in his chest, creating a tornado in his body, and he’s drowning, drowning in his rage, in his memories, in his untamed emotions.

He knows what he has to do.

Nico raises his sword, and, without even thinking, he slashes the god’s shoulder.

“Nico!” Will cries, but it’s too late. Eros cries out and hisses through his teeth, holding his arm in his hand. His angry red eyes gleam right at the child of Hades, projecting all his rage and pain right to Nico’s core. The demigod merely stands still, waiting for the god’s next move.

“Oh, you arrogant hero!” Eros cries. Golden ichor slips past his fingers, dripping onto the ground, and for a strange, fleeting moment, Nico finds that it looks beautiful in the darkness, sparkling where it should not be.

Only pain belongs in Tartarus. Nico wants to hurt Eros the way he hurt him.

Nico knows the act was stupid, but he can’t help the grin that takes over his face. Laughter bubbles out of his chest, sprinkled with something maniacal, something angry. “What’s wrong, my lord?” Nico purrs, leaning against his sword. “You said love fixes pain. Can it fix you?”

Eros snarls at Nico, but the son of Hades doesn’t care. Nothing beats the thrill that thrums in his body at the sight of the god being so frustrated.

Eros pants through the pain, his face turning red. “You think you are something special, don’t you, child?”

Nico laughs, the sound of it ironic in such a painful place. The laugh overflows with repressed pain, with hot anger.

That laugh belongs here in Tartarus, with its madness and rage.

“Oh, Eros,” Nico mutters. “I spent so long thinking I deserved nothing. I spent so long thinking everywhere I went, misery followed me. I have never felt special.” He glances up and down at the god. “You asked me if even Will makes me feel special. Well, no. He makes me… feel good. But you know what makes me feel actually special?”

Despite his rage, curiosity strangles Eros’ eyes. He waits for a response, hissing as more ichor spills out of his godly being.

“What makes me feel good, what makes me feel like I have a worth in this world,” Nico says as a smile creeps over his face, offering him a maniacal glow, “is when I provide justice to those who have done wrong. Originally I always believed Death has no mercy, only justice.” He slashes again at Eros, who cries louder and falls to his knees. He pants through the pain. “Well, I suppose there are other ways to provide justice.”

Nico runs his finger through the golden ichor that gleams over his sword. Touching it, Nico’s finger tingles with power. He looks at Eros again. “What makes me feel special is when I defeat entitled assholes like you, my lord.”

“You have not defeated me,” the god growls.

“No, not physically,” Nico agrees. “But I have defeated the pain you have caused me.” He touches the tip to Eros’ chin, balancing it mere millimeters from his skin. The point gleams red as it reflects the glow of Eros’ eyes. “Begone, you pitiful asshole.”

Eros snarls and throws Nico’s sword away, but the demigod only smiles. This is exactly the reaction he wanted.

“You cannot kill me, arrogant hero,” Eros reminds him.

“No, but I can scare you.” Raising an eyebrow at him, Nico says, “Many have been scared of me. I am a child of Hades. You may be a god, but you have no idea of what I am capable of.”

Eros regards Nico with a sharp glare, but the sight of it no longer grates against Nico’s conscience. He’s only bursting with energy, with confidence. He hasn’t felt so alive in years. Power hums in his core, billows over his chest, courses through his veins. He feels almost invincible.

“You have made an enemy, Nico di Angelo,” Eros promises. “And love is no enemy you want. Especially not with someone in your situation.”

Nico falters. What does Eros mean? Does he mean his being gay? Does he mean with society in general? Then Nico turns to his boyfriend, who’s shivering with fear and adrenaline at his side, and it clicks. He means Will.

Nico scowls at Eros. “You say I have made an enemy, Eros, but the truth of the matter is that you made me an enemy long ago. When you first stabbed me in the shoulder with your weapon.” Nico glances at the wound on Eros’ left arm and shakes his head. “You made a mistake long ago. You are only now realizing it.”

Silence lingers around them, floating tensely in the hot air. Then Eros says, “I can influence a lot.” A glimmer of confidence returns in his eyes. “Be warned, child of Hades.”

With that, Eros disappears. And Will and Nico are left alone once more, staring ahead to whatever terrors lie ahead.

[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [13]

Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14

➜ Words: 4.3k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

“I’m in love with you,” he asserts.   “Gross.”   Your answer is instinctive. But you’re not disgusted with him. Your features don’t twist. Your lips don’t become lopsided. Rather, the word is stated blankly. Impulsively. After all, you’ve conditioned yourself to respond like that — like anything in relation to romance is now awful.   “Yeah.” Jungkook sighs, hair shagging over his forehead as he looks down. “I know. I’m pretty disgusted with myself too. But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m still in love with you. Fucking head over heels and all that crap.”   You’re rendered speechless, about to ask him if he’s fucking with you, if this is some kind of sick joke.   But then suddenly, Jungkook sighs loudly, startling you. His rigid body deflates, the tension in his muscles leaves and he knocks his head back, taking a deep breath. “God, it feels so good to be honest. With myself and with you.”   The sun is setting over the horizon, the warmth soaking into his skin and softening his edges. The pair of you face each other in the middle of the empty sidewalk on an equally empty campus. There’s nowhere to run, nowhere to take cover.   You wonder how long he’s felt this way for.   You’re conflicted, unsure what to tell him. “Love’s a strong word, Jungkook.”   “I’m aware.”   “H-How are you even sure?”   The dark-haired man looks you in the eye, his own becoming half-lidded. His breathing turns shallow, heavy in his chest and out his parted lips. “I’m sure.”   You know Jungkook well enough to recognize his earnest sincerity. There isn’t a shred of doubt in his gaze nor his expression. He doesn’t waver once in his bold conviction. There’s only truth.   “Well…...shit.” The words sink into you. The claws and pointed ends of each syllable nick into your flesh. In an instant, your impassiveness is torn from you — your placid state taken — your stoic face uncovered. “Fuck. Fuck!”    You scream up into the sky, turning around, hands in your hair. What he’s saying registers and you hate it. You hate that love has to mess up every single relationship that you have. Goddamn. You can’t keep that disease away from affecting the people you care about most.   Jungkook watches you have the small meltdown with widened eyes, not sure what to do or say. But then you whirl around after a moment, determination set in your features. All of a sudden, you grab his hand, patting it with your other firmly as if you were a doctor coaxing and comforting a patient.   “We can overcome this together.”   “What?”   “It’s okay. This happens. If you’re friends with someone from the gender you’re attracted to, it’s natural you end up having a crush on them. It’s expected actually, considering we spend so much time together and interact so much. People encounter this issue all the time, but we can overcome it, Jungkook. Together.” You put your hand on his shoulder, eyes sympathetic. “I’ll help you get over me.”   Jungkook can feel his left eye twitching.   Of all responses, he did not expect this one. You’re acting like his therapist and that he’s got some kind of illness. You even end up thanking him for telling you the truth.   Jungkook might actually need to see a therapist after talking to you.

Infatuation only lasts so long. Personally, in your humble opinion, you aren’t hot shit anyway. You’re not that great. Jungkook will get over himself when he sees you for how you really are.   If anyone’s ever liked you, they won’t for long — you have evidence of that.   “Hey, buddy!” You give finger guns as a greeting, making sure to not get too close to him.   “You don’t need to patronize me.”   Your voice releases stiff laughter. “Alright, bro.” You put your fist out for a fist bump, but Jungkook completely ignores you. He walks right past you with his hands in the pockets of his open coat.   “Are you coming or are you going to stand there like an idiot?” he asks, briefly glancing over his shoulder.   You scoff.   Ever since the whole traumatizing confession, nothing’s changed. But at the same time everything has.   Jungkook doesn’t act any differently — he still glares at you, calls you stupid and a witch. But you also begin to notice how affectionate his physical gestures are, when he taps your arm, when takes your shoulder to guide you away from a crowd, when he pats your head.    And your efforts of keeping things as platonic as possible inadvertently makes everything awkward. It’s even worse now that you’re literally spending so much time with Jungkook. Exclusively. It’s just him, and for the months to come, it will only be him.   You’ve already decided within the first minute that you won’t ignore him or distance yourself. You can’t. Not with the upcoming internship, and not when you’ve had that happen to you. You won’t do such a cruel thing to someone else. Jungkook will always be your friend no matter what and you’ll make sure of that.   You catch up with him. “You know, I haven’t showered in days. This is like three-day old hair. Greasy, right? I just get so lazy showering.”   “Right.” He ignores you.   It goes silent and you noisily clear your throat. “Man, I had the worst shit today. It was explosive, dude.”   “You really think toilet humour is going to make me stop liking you?” Jungkook stops in his tracks and you halt in a delayed manner. He shifts towards you, glaring. “What do you take me for?”   You pout. “At least I’m trying.”   “Try harder.” He pauses. “For the sake of both of us.”   You’re befuddled over his answer and when he starts walking again, you quicken your pace to match his. “What? You don’t want to like me?”   “Not if you don’t want me to. I just wonder what’s more difficult,” he hums thoughtfully, “You trying to get me to stop liking you or me trying to make you like me.”   “I already like you,” you mumble.   “See?” Jungkook points out abruptly as the corner of his mouth quirks into a subtle smile. “That’s not going to help with my situation.”   “Sorry.” Your cheeks puff in your pout.   “Neither is that,” He says and when you quirk your head to the side, brows furrowing, he grins boyishly. “Stop worrying about it before you give yourself wrinkles. Save your energy for the internship. I’m the least of your concerns.”   He’s wrong.    Jeon Jungkook is the biggest thing on your mind lately.

Kim’s Wedding Cake Company sits in the middle of Imlings Avenue.    It’s a bakery played in between two small boutiques. It has tan brick walls and the shop’s sign is slightly worn around the red letters, but still legible. The doorway is narrow and crowded by two large glass windows on either side that invites onlookers inside for a session of cake tasting.   The bell chimes as Jungkook pushes the door open, keeping it wide until you’re able to step in.   The cream walls and the floorboards create a cozy atmosphere like you’re home. But what sets it aside from an intimate abode is the paintings of wedding cakes on the walls and the rounded tables with chairs around them for customers to sit at.   A counter is curved at the corner of the room, cutting off the main area from the back. The moment the bell stops ringing, a short woman comes frantically stumbling out from the doorway.   “Welcome!”    She grins and the wrinkles around her eyes crease. Her brunette hair is in a bun, strays falling to frame her face. The woman is maybe around her early forties. “Congratulations on your engagement!” She grabs her binder and starts flipping. “Do you have an appointment?”   “Oh no! He and I…” You point at Jungkook and then back at yourself, flustered. “We’re not like that.”   Jungkook is holding back laughter, watching you flounder about. You’ve suddenly become so anxious at the idea that the pair of you are engaged. He turns away to look at the woman. “What she means is that we’re your interns.”   “Oh, thank god.” The woman sighs, stepping back. “For a second here, I thought I had completely forgotten about an appointment.” She turns on her feet, placing her hands on her hips and shouts, “Namjoon! Honey! We were supposed to get our interns today?!”   From the other room, a man’s voice screams back. “What?!”   She goes closer to the doorway, shrieking, “Our interns! Were they supposed to come today?!”   “No! They’re coming in a week from now!”   “Then why are they standing right here?!”   “What?!”   “Why are they standing here?!”   You exchange a look with Jungkook, not sure what’s going on. At the same time, a stocky, tall man in the traditional chef's uniform emerges — white double-breasted jacket, black pants and an apron. “I heard you, I heard you.”   “Did you mark it wrong in the calendar again?”   “I swear I didn’t—” The older man’s eyes widen as they catch the two of you standing there awkwardly. You lift your hand in salutation and he laughs. “Well, what do you know! Here they are, today! Welcome to our home!”   Namjoon opens the wooden separator, comes out and wipes his hands on his apron haphazardly to shake both of your hands. His wife sighs and follows closely to greet you. “You must be Y/N and Jungsook?”   “Jungkook,” he corrects in dismay while you try to hide your giggles.   “Right, right. My bad. My name is Namjoon and my wife here is Sejeong.”   Sejeong smiles. “I’m glad you’re both on board. Do you have any experience doing wedding cakes?”   “No, we haven’t.”   “It’s alright,” she reassures, “We’ll teach you along the way.”   “We need all the help we can get.” Namjoon sighs. “Ever since Soohyun went on maternity leave, we’ve been swamped up to our chins. Doesn’t help that it’s wedding season.”   “Auntie.” A four foot eight girl comes out from the back, her long black hair tied into a ponytail at the crown of her head, and coral apron tied around her body. “The chocolate’s melted—”   The girl freezes on her spot, big eyes pinpointing onto Jungkook. You glance at him, and he looks at you with a small shrug.   “Has it?” Sejeong smiles and brushes past her. “I’ll go check.”   The younger girl doesn’t move and Namjoon smiles. “Oh, this is my eighteen year old niece, Yuna. She’s working here part-time to help out, mostly on the weekends when she’s not at school.”   “Nice to meet you.” She timidly approaches Jungkook, clearing her throat and batting her lashes at him.   Jungkook blankly shakes her hand. “Hi.”   You extend your own hand and it’s only then that she seems to notice you and reluctantly shakes it. “I’m Y/N and this is Jungkook.”   “Jungkook,” she murmurs after you. “So you’re going to work here till August?”   “Yes, they will.” Namjoon laughs heartily. “You should go help your aunt look at the chocolate, Yuna. You can only learn if you know what you did wrong or right.”   “Fine.” She exhales and drags her feet away, throwing a fleeting look to Jungkook over her shoulder.   Namjoon re-directs his attention to the two of you with a softened smile. “Let me show you around!”    The back area is a short hall that splits into three. The door to the left is a room with a table and chairs, posters of wedding cakes on the walls and happily married couples on their wedding day. “This is our only private room we have. It’s just in case a couple has a large party with them or would like some privacy when we have our consultation.”   You peek your head into the room across from it. “That is our staff room and our bathroom and where our offices are. You can always eat your lunch or take a break here.”   Namjoon leads you the other way and it’s to the place you know best — silver countertops, stoves, ovens, and sinks galore. “And this is our kitchen. We have a fridge here where we keep our cakes, a small fridge, our pantry. You’ll get yourself familiar pretty soon, don’t worry.”   You return from the tour back to the main area, asking questions along the way which Namjoon is happy to answer. The pair of you also offer more insight into what you know and he’s pleasantly surprised that his two interns are more experienced than expected.   “It can get pretty hectic around here during the wedding season. Some days we just have appointments and cake tasting all day. Other times, we’re rushing to make a wedding cake for the following day or we might be at the wedding venue getting it all set up. We usually open up shop around eight in the morning and you guys are let off at four.”   “Don’t worry, if we have to stay late to catch up on work or finish a cake up, you’ll get paid handsomely.” Namjoon grins. “We work five days a week. Sometimes you’ll have to come in on the Saturday if we have a wedding on Sunday, but it’s not often. Any questions? Comments?”   “Um…” You exchange expressions with Jungkook. “No, not really. I think we got it.”   Suddenly the older man bursts out laughing, startling you both. “You two don’t have to be so anxious! I was a student once too. Don’t they say wedding cake internships are one of the hardest ones you can take?”   “Uh.” Jungkook gingerly smiles. “We’ve heard of that.”   “Yep.” The older man bobs his head. “That’s what I thought. But don’t worry, it’ll be a lot of work, but it’ll be fun. Just don’t get on my wife’s bad side and you’ll be fine and dandy.”   “Are you talking badly about me?” Sejeong comes from the back, glaring at her husband.   “Oh, there she comes.” In spite of his playful warnings, Namjoon laughs, dimples marked on each side of his cheek. He leans over to plop a kiss at the top of her head and waltzes into the back, leaving her sighing.   “That man. Hopeless, I swear. Anyhow...I hope you both are ready!” Sejeong claps her hands together. “No time like the present to start learning and diving into it! We have a couple arriving in an hour for a consultation and I want you guys to lead. Should be easy enough!”   The two of you nod, preparing yourselves.   //   Both Namjoon and Sejeong give you a few moments to yourselves to breathe and not be overwhelmed. But you’re kind of excited. It’s a bit surreal that one moment you’re sitting in a lecture hall learning about theory and the next, you’re in the real world, about to apply all the knowledge you’ve gathered. For a while now, you’ve missed working and being more hands-on.   You glance down to your coral apron they gave you. Jungkook is in the same one and while he grumbled about not wearing much pink before, he looks cute in it. You wanted to take a picture but he didn’t let you. Self-conscious Jungkook is one you’ve seldom seen and admittedly, endearing.   “They seem really nice.” And in love. It’s pleasant to see. Even with how disgusting romance is.   It just isn’t often that you can look at a couple and not think about their inevitable doom.   “Yeah, they are. Thankfully. God knows how many strict head chefs are out there.”   You wonder what it’s like to own a business with your husband and work together all the time — though you don’t voice your question aloud. You have an inkling Jungkook would flirtatiously answer ‘that could be us’ and you don’t need to be distracted by him right now.   His presence is a distraction enough.   “How about Yuna though?” You elbow him lightly in the ribs, giving a nudge while wiggling your brows. “I think she likes you.”   Jungkook’s expression blanches. “She’s still in high school.”   “I’m just kidding—”   “And some other girl showing up is not going to stop me from liking you any less than I do,” Jungkook says nonchalantly, stating it like it’s a fact. He’s unaware of how your face heats.   You quickly take a drink of water in an attempt to cool down. Goddammit — he’s being a distraction already without you having to set him up.   “You still owe me that favour.” You clear your throat, changing the subject. “Remember? When you challenged me saying you could pipe better than I can temper chocolate.”   “I thought we called it even.” Jungkook grins, cutely with the mole dotted underneath his mouth.   “Nu-uh. That’s not fair and you know it.” You put your foot down. “We agreed the loser would have to cover for the winner when they go on break or make a mistake. And you lost, Jeon.”   “Already planning on making mistakes?”   You sulk. “No. I just want you to have my back.”   “You already have that,” Jungkook says tenderly with a smile. “And a lot more.”   Your mouth is filled with cotton. The corner of his mouth curls even more, relishing in your surprised expression. He doesn’t even bat a lash and merely looks away when the bell to the front entrance rings. “Welcome to Kim’s Wedding Catering Company.”   You tear your eyes away from Jeon Jungkook’s profile. “Do you have an appointment?”   “Yes, we do.” The woman smiles, dressed in a white beret and trench coat, her cheeks blushing. She’s accompanied by another woman in a leather jacket who’s holding her hand. “It should be under Lee.”   “You must be Sungkyung and Victoria, congratulations on your engagement.”   The both of them glance at each other, sharing giddy smiles. “Thank you.”   “Right this way.”   Jungkook leads them to one of the wooden tables, setting out a book as you grab the slices of cake on the plate from the back, all decorated and labeled. Sejeong who’s been watching at the counter gives an encouraging thumbs up.   “So your wedding is being held during the beginning of September?”   “Yes and we’re planning to cut the cake during the evening,” Sungkyung says as Jungkook jots it down on his sheet.   “Will this be an outdoor or indoor wedding?”   “We’re planning to have it outdoors in a garden.”   “That’s nice.” Jungkook smiles. “Do you have any themes in your wedding? Any colour scheme?”   “We have butterflies and we have green and purple as our colours.”   “And how many guests do you have?”   “About a hundred.”   “Okay.”   You come to the table with the long plate and two forks. Both of the women are excited, eyes lighting up as you place the cakes in front of them and take a seat beside Jungkook.    “This one is vanilla cake with buttercream. It’s simple, but a classic. This one is coconut cake with coconut cream. Red velvet with cream cheese frosting, chocolate with ganache, lemon with custard filling and fondant, strawberry with salted caramel filling and fondant, and the last one here is carrot cake with butterscotch sauce filling and chocolate buttercream icing. Take your time.”   “I really like this one,” Victoria whispers to her fiancée, fork points to carrot cake. “Or at least the icing part.”   “I prefer this one.” Sungkyung indicates the strawberry cake and takes another bite.   “We can always mix and match,” you tell them with a smile. “It’s possible to do strawberry cake with buttercream.”   “Buttercream usually tastes better than fondant, but if it’s hot outside, it might melt.” Jungkook’s brows knit together and you look at him, humming for a second.   “Well, we always put a layer of fondant over the buttercream so they also get that smooth look and we wouldn’t have to worry about melting.”   The boy nods. “Yeah, that would work.”    “That sounds really good.” The two women smile at each other. “How much would it cost?”   “Ummm…” Jungkook flips through the binder, memory failing him. He finally finds the table of all the prices on the tenth page. “For us, it depends on what kind of cake you end up choosing and how many tiers it’ll be, but it should be around four hundred to five hundred. For a hundred people, I’d recommend…..uh…”   “Three to four layers.” You finish his sentence and Jungkook looks at you gratefully.   You leave the two of them to finish up the cakes and to discuss with one another.   Sejeong who’s been waiting at the back has her compliments prepared. “Great job, you two. Couldn’t have done it better myself!”   It’s stressful to remember the details, but luckily Sejeong is merciful and allows the two of you to shadow her as she goes out to explain the designs, possible flower arrangements on the cake and discuss how they want it to look. She also goes more into detail about prices, providing the women with a write-up of what it would look like.   When the consultation is finished, there’s not a moment to breathe.   You’re ushered into the kitchen where Namjoon is working on a wedding cake.   “So I already baked these babies yesterday and let them cool down in the fridge. I’ve also made the buttercream just now. Today we crumb coat our cakes and colour fondant. Tomorrow, we’re going to cover the cakes with fondant, put dowels in and stack our tiers, and decorate, then it’s all ready for delivery! Easy, huh?”   “Umm…”   The older man laughs noisily from his chest. “I’m guessing you two know how to crumb coat cakes?”   “Yes, we do.”   “Great. Then this is all on you. Make sure not to mess up! It’s the bride and groom’s special day! People only have a wedding once...hopefully.”   There’s not any pressure whatsoever.   Namjoon leaves, coming in and out to help with his wife and niece cleaning the front and watching over your shoulder. But he has little to say to both you and Jungkook when he finds your techniques sufficient.   The cakes are placed on a turntable, bench scrapers and offset icing spatulas in hand. You add a thin layer of frosting to trap cake crumbs and prevent them from popping up in your finished cake. And while you crumb coat two layers, Jungkook does one and goes to colour fondant.   Namjoon teaches him, rolling the fondant into a ball and kneading until it’s soft and pliable. A small dot of pink is added and he kneads the colour until it’s blended.   Once you’re done with the cakes, you help Jungkook with another ball of fondant, kneading until your arms are sore. Afterwards, the two of you assist Sejeong and Yuna, organizing the shelves of baking pans, various coloured ribbons, and bins of cookie and cake cutters.   It’s tiresome, but you feel rejuvenated when they let you try some of the spare cake slices they offer. It’s delicious, melting on your palate and Namjoon jokingly quizzes both of you on what kind of icing works best with what cakes and what ingredients are in each of them.    You’d like to say you won.   They also teach you how to answer emails and phone calls, and both you and Jungkook arrange a few appointments for next week. The day is over before you’ve realized.   “Good work, you two!” Sejeong praises. “You’re very fast learners.”   “I heard you rank high at your school.” Namjoon smiles in spite of your modest protests. “I believe you know her as Miss. Kang. She speaks highly of you two and I’m not disappointed.”   “Jungkook, I heard you wanted to be a Chocolatier?” Namjoon asks and the boy is like a deer in the headlights, doe eyes rounded. He nods slowly.   “Yes, that’s my long-term goal.”   “When we have a moment then, I’ll work on something with you,” he promises with another dimpled smile and Jungkook is visibly enthused. “Anyway, I hope nothing was too overwhelming. Get a good night’s rest and we’ll continue tomorrow!”   They close up shop as the sun sets over the horizon and Yuna waves wildly, bidding Jungkook farewell. “Bye, Jungkook!”   He makes a noise, a small ‘bye’ to her before the two of you turn away after waving to the married couple. You walk down the street together, towards the bus stop where it’ll guide you home.   “That wasn’t bad.”   “Yeah.” There’s a pause. Jungkook smiles at you. “It wasn’t.”   Silence eventually falls in between the spaces.   You can feel your eye bags deepening, your bones creaking with every movement. You’re exhausted from the long day, unable to utter a single word, but the quiet that settles is comfortable rather than awkward.   Your feet are moving on their own against the pavement, the sounds of cars moving past shaping the white noise of the city. It’s a long way back home, but as you glance at Jungkook, walking alongside him with your footsteps synced together, you’re glad he’s here.   The two of you have each other for support.   You’re unknowing to how Jungkook shares the same sentiment. He takes a glimpse of you when you don’t notice, stealing glances like he’s stealing candy. The smile on his face softens.   His own words echo back to him— “I just wonder what’s more difficult,” he had hummed thoughtfully, “You trying to get me to stop liking you or me trying to make you like me.”   It occurs to Jungkook that he’s found his answer. He realizes he can’t ‘overcome’ his feelings. He can’t get over you like you think he can. 

If you rejected him, his concern of making you uncomfortable would far outweigh these simmering emotions inside of him, but you didn’t. The fact of the matter is that Jungkook knows your aversion is towards love, not him. And with such uncertainty and possibilities, it’s impossible to get over you.

It won’t work. Not when you’re you. 

So Jungkook chooses the other path — the other approach.    He makes the decision right then and there. Instead of idly standing by and allowing you to sprout nonsense and drive him even more crazy, he’s going to act. He’s going to actually do something about his feelings—    Jeon Jungkook is going to court you.

[mosshead-lover]

The Act of LordE: part 2

On the contrary

Bakugou & Izuku x Reader

<< Previous

It had been a few weeks since the new year's party. [y/n] decided to put that unfortunate event behind. She was well settled in the city and was having a great time with Izuku as well. They were officially in a relationship. She even managed to intern at a hero agency. Her job was to study the hero costumes and make them fashionable. A job that was considered useless by heroes, as told by her seniors. But, She firmly believed that a hero's outfit should make a statement about the hero, radiate his/her personality.

Her boyfriend, who was one of the rising top heroes, not only comprehend her passion but also respected her talent for making even the most boring items into fascinating entities, as opposed to what her seniors had experienced.

[y/n]'s excitement about starting at the hero agency was palpable. She was thrilled to meet pro heroes in person and have a chance to re-model their outfits. She was also a little anxious about pulling their style statement down instead of elevating.

"We will start with you studying some hero costumes evolution throughout the years. Relate the modifications with the fashion trends and marketing trends set in the respective years and submit a report by the weekend."

The chief stylist of the agency had assigned work the second she met [y/n].

[y/n] was impressed and surprised at how work centered her boss was. She got into work immediately. After a week of extensive research, late-night shenanigans, rewriting the thesis thinking the previous one wasn't good enough and taking inputs from her boyfriend & his fellow hero friends, [y/n] finally submitted her report. Her boss didn't seem too impressed but didn't criticize either. She assigned [y/n] her next task: to make sketches of a hero intern's outfit and try different color panels.

"I will ask one of the hero interns to come see you." Her boss told in a neutral tone and left the room. The Fashion department was vacant most of the time since most fashion staff tended to work from their comfort zones. The boss who came in every day had a chamber of her own. So, [y/n] was pretty much by herself. She was looking forward to having company.

"This Asshole!"

[y/n] screamed inside. At the sight of the person whom she was so eagerly waiting to meet. How could she possibly forget those eyes?

Katsuki, on the other hand, cursed his fate for putting the one girl he didn't want to see ever again in front of him.

However, neither brought up the night. They worked in silence, avoiding eye contact, wishing for the day to get over soon.

[y/n] had had a long day. She walked home thinking if she should tell Izuku what happened on new year's. She decided not to. It was too late now. If she wanted to, she should have, sooner. At least when she recognized that ass from the pictures Izuku had shown her the day she had stayed over.

A few days later, Katsuki was asked to visit [y/n] again. To submit technical details of the gadgets he used and to answer any questions she had. Bakugou sucked at making things right, the easiest way to ease the tension between them was to tell her about the stupid challenge and apologize, he couldn't get himself to. It was difficult to even imagine himself doing it, given his egocentric personality. Nevertheless he had to. After a long hour of deep thinking, he decided he would.

He took heavy reluctant steps towards the fashion department.

"Ummm. Thanks for getting lunch, Izu."

[y/n] was seated on the table, with her hands around Midoriya's neck.

"I took a day off. That the least I could do, [y/n]-chan."

[y/n] kissed Izuku on the lips gently.

"We are so occupied with college, internships, and assignments these days. We barely get to spend time together. I miss you."

Izuku sounded disappointed.

[y/n] let out a sigh in agreement and hugged him.

"I miss you too, baby."

"Wish we at least worked at the same place. We could commute together." Izuku mused.

"I can put in a word for you! How can they say no to someone as talented as you?" He was holding [y/n] by her shoulders now. His eyes shined, radiating his enthusiasm.

"Our Agency is just as good, you know?" He was trying to be cocky now.

[y/n] laughed and ruffled his hair.

"Thanks for saying that, Mr. Pro-to-be. But, I got in here with lots of effort and am learning a great deal. I don't want to leave halfway. I know you wouldn't."

"Yeah." Izuku sulked.

Usually, Bakugou barged in, irrespective of the place and the situation. Except for this day. He had waited at the door for a while before going in.

"Tch. As if getting to see one shit face for the day wasn't enough."

Izuku moved away, and [y/n] quickly got off the table. A drop of sweat trailed down her cheek though she knew she wasn't at fault. Not much anyway.

"I don't know how shit works at your agency, Deku-teme, But here, we don't fool around."

Kachan eyed [y/n] in what seemed like disgust.

"Ah...Kachan, please calm down. I was just dropping off lunch. I am sorry."

(What is he sorry for?)

Deku's demeanor changed suddenly.

"I shall pick you up in the evening, [y/n]-chan. Bye for now."

Izuku didn't even bother to peck [y/n] and left hurriedly. [y/n] had heard enough stories about Izuku's childhood friend Kachan to understand his reaction. But, she was more frustrated at how this person got away with being an asshole all the time. Izuku was used to Kachan's way of talking. But [y/n] wasn't, and she didn't plan to.

"Who do you think you are!?"

[y/n] was raging with fury.

"Ah?" Bakugou tried to sound cold and clueless when he was burning on the inside. He had to face the inevitable confrontation now. He had ignited the fire.

"I don't know why Izuku tolerates your foul mouth but, that's no way to treat a friend!"

"I don't have time for this." Bakugou tries to escape the ultimate, one last time.

"You do, and you will listen to everything I have to say!"

To [y/n]'s surprise, he obeyed and sat down on the chair unwillingly.

"First, You steal his new year's kiss from him by forcing yourself on me, and then, you are extremely rude to him for no reason at all. It had literally been five minutes since he arrived! We weren't fooling around. It was my lunch break, for god's sake! And worst of all, He asks sorry, like he was guilty! If anyone should be apologizing, it's you!"

Katsuki yawned as [y/n] went on, which only aggravated her further.

While [y/n] was fuming, Katsuki slowly speaks up after confirming that she was done.

"Whoah! I didn't know you were dating at the time."

(even so, I am guilty of kissing you without consent. You dumb girl. You need to get some confrontation lessons.)

"I don't care how long he had been here. I saw what I saw, and I may be an ass but have strong work ethics."

(I couldn't stand seeing you together.)

"As for an apology, I still don't see my fault."

(I am an ass. I know. I also know it's too late to try being otherwise.)

"Oh, you will see! I will make sure Deku gets one from you!" [y/n]'s anger hadn't gone down, even a bit.

"Um! Determination I see." He raised his eyebrows, a faint smile formed on his face.

"I like it. So, I will give you a chance to earn that apology for that midget boyfriend of yours."

Bakugou got more comfortable in the wooden chair that he sat on. Almost as if he was enjoying where the conversation was headed.

[y/n] remained silent but was looking in his direction. She didn't have to say. He went on.

"Let's play a game. Umm...say Chess?" He suggested, looking at a painting of a few chess pieces that was hung by the door.

He went on.

"You win, I will apologize to Deku, and If I do, I will claim something of yours as mine for ten minutes."

"I am in." [y/n] didn't give a second thought. Only if she knew what she was getting to, she might have. If only she knew.

Next>>

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[ghostmartyr]

SnK 130 Thoughts

My opening joke is going to be a brief description of Historia’s circumstances, because it requires no creative energy on my part to make it a joke.

To review!

107 introduces the concept of Historia being a breeding factory. This is suggested as part of Zeke’s 50-year plan to establish Paradis without it being genocided to death. At the end of 107, present-day Historia is shown to be pregnant.

At the very beginning of 108, the Military Police openly discuss how this is kind of weird. And while the mood is largely in favor of Historia having children so the Founding Titan stays in Paradis control, she’s having a child at a very inconvenient time for everyone, because she’s supposed to eat Zeke before he can cause trouble.

In 114, it is revealed that Zeke’s actual plan is to sterilize all Eldians so they die off and stop being a problem. By virtue of five seconds of pondering, this falls apart when you consider that Zeke’s plan is the beginning of Historia being prepped to breed children. Having any royal children would actively interfere with Zeke’s ability to guarantee that his choices for the Founding Titan would be the last.

In 130, Historia is shown to still be going along with the 50-year concept, and no one is stopping her except Eren, who is against Zeke’s sterilization plan (which a child would stop), and who says that Historia making this kind of choice is what’s driving him to genocide.

To which Historia suggests a baby.

-draws a line back to 107-

-underlines Eren’s angry feelings about all of this-

This would make sense if it were live action and the actress were pregnant.

Not within the story or anything.

But an explanation would at least exist.

I should take up drinking. Or cocaine. Or something.

There’s virtually zero content this chapter. Half of it is just Eren going on rampage. This is how you know it’s the end of a volume for a story that’s ending. The subtle ways the story beats come firing at a machine gun’s pace before slowing to a deliberately controlled crawl.

Surprise, Liberio’s no longer a factor!

-surprised Pikachu faces-

-everyone officially burnt out on violence-

-except Eren-

-this is a problem because Eren is indeed causing the most violence, and violence would probably be a great help in stopping him, so having someone on that boat thinking they should just fucking stab him would be just a little encouraging that’s all I’m saying-

Then we dash straight into a slightly more visible flashback to Eren’s memories of the future being unlocked, and get to the development of his genocide plan.

It isn’t much of a plan.

It mostly still involves genocide.

But worse.

He’s basically going to do what Karl did, only when he tells people on Paradis that all the humans beyond their borders are dead, he won’t be lying. He is keeping the genocide and the mind-wiping, though. In this spirit of how well that worked out previously.

This is a choice.

A bad one.

Even by Eren’s current standards.

This is especially impressive given that he has none.

Alrighty then. Uh.

Here we have Eren’s mission statement. That’s nice?

“The only way to put a final end to the cycle of revenge born from hate... is to remove that history of hate from this world and bury it in the ground, civilization and all.”

Legitimately, Eren’s entire plan amounts to, “The First King was right about everything except not actually making us the last humans alive on the planet.”

See, Zeke’s plan of killing all Eldians off is evil and bad, and Eren is disgusted at the very idea of going along with it.

Eren’s plan of killing everyone else off, regardless of who they are, is a good one.

As is manipulating all of his friends into following it, telling them he hates them, fairly directly letting one of them know this is basically all her fault, and.

.

Look, I’m sorry, but what the fuck?

I mean.

Fuck, do I have to go full Madoka on main?

Here is a brief summary of the third Madoka Magica movie, for those who do not understand the reference: Person who has spent her entire life torturing herself to save one girl feels like she didn’t save the one girl hard enough, and compensates for this mental breakdown by turning into the literal Devil.

These are decisions that can be explained by trauma. The character in question has been through a lot, and arguing that she’s too emotionally stable to undo the universe is harder to do than it feels like it should be.

She still takes the established order of the series and 90% of the movie and drops it in the shredder, leaving the characters who are around and aware of this move to stare, aghast, as the new world order is established.

To catch up the uninitiated, when the new world order is established in the series, it’s a happy ending that ties up all the struggles everyone has been through. Not necessarily neatly, but they’re honored, and the cast continues on.

The new world order of the movie is one character screaming “NO” in various cries for help as she pounds her heart into the pavement and the pavement is everyone else’s quality of life.

..

Anyway, the current reason everyone on the planet hates Paradis enough to attack it is because Eren publicly murdered civilians at a festival with international significance, including the one Eldian in the world with good publicity.

Things weren’t pretty for anyone, but Eren snatches the ball out of the court and throws it into the backyard with vicious guard dogs. He decides to bring everyone into a war, and he decides the initial terms. He makes a violent declaration, and ever since, the story has been devoted to people catching up to him to ask what the fuck his problem is.

As opposed to the usual routine of catching up to him to steal him back from whoever’s kidnapping him that week.

Eren’s the direct cause of this mess.

Fucking Marley doesn’t help, what with their hundred years of brainwashing and titanizing to actively keep the hate of Paradis alive -- but Eren’s the one who turns it into an issue of national immediacy when everyone around him is trying to find more time.

All the while going, “look what you made me do”

Right.

Where it breaks down for me isn’t that it makes no sense for Eren to have fallen this far. This entire series has been destroying him one piece at a time, and I do feel like you could have a very powerful conclusion with Humanity’s Hope turning to Humanity’s Despair, and the people he once inspired having to bear the torch themselves instead of forcing one person to carry their entire future.

Hell, that could still happen. I would still love an ending where Mikasa wraps the scarf around Eren, and he’s finally saved from himself.

What’s aggravating is that as many ominous hints as we’ve gotten about Eren’s monstrous nature throughout the series, there’s just as much material of him loving his friends, and wanting them to be free and happy, and understanding that walls aren’t the only prison.

Angry Eren the Rage Boy is there. He’s even easy to understand, sometimes. OG Ymir’s history inspires a desire for death and destruction. It would be and is wrong, but the impulse isn’t difficult to parse.

He’s more than that. He stays up all night listening to Hange’s theories. Armin’s dreams of the sea catches his mind like wildfire. Fighting Annie even after she’s revealed to be someone who’s ruthlessly murdered his comrades is painful. He wants to believe Reiner and Bertolt are innocent even when they’re making the worst show of hiding it. He smiles every time he sees his friends genuinely happy.

Eren’s rage has always been a direct response to his views of the world. The slavers are monsters. He has no problem killing them. Titans are monsters. He wants them dead. He runs off in Trost and gets his leg chomped off because he’s so upset that a bit character we barely spend time with is being eaten.

“When we’re born... all of us... are free. People who reject that, no matter how strong they are... don’t matter.”

Since leaving his friends in Marley, Eren has rejected the freedom of every single one of them. He doesn’t tell them what he’s up to, but expects them to have his back. He pushes events into motion that nearly lead to all their deaths. He actively lies to Mikasa about how her brain functions. He tells Historia to get on board or have her memory wiped.

The rage and agony and helplessness Eren feels isn’t particularly strange, in my mind. He hasn’t coped with any of the manga’s arcs well, and the few victories he’s been part of have landed him in worse and worse places, emotionally.

The conclusions he’s reaching don’t work.

It isn’t that strange for people to not realize that they’re contradicting themselves, especially when they’re in this frame of mind, but Eren loves his damn friends.

Meanwhile, he’d find it easier to take if Mikasa were attached to him because her bloodline made her do it, but that’s.

Actually, no, that’s relevant.

Eren suggests plot magic chemistry before he considers that Mikasa actually loves him.

He’s a dying man.

He’s condemned himself already. It doesn’t matter what he does, as long as his friends are alive. Anything else -- everything else is secondary. They’ll be alive, and he’ll be dead, and it’s as simple as that.

But it isn’t like he doesn’t know right from wrong. This might be a wrong he can accept on his deathbed, but it’s undeniably wrong.

How horrific is it that people might be so attached to him that he can do all this, and they’ll still fight for him instead of putting him down like the monster he is?

Eren struggles with greys. If he’s willing to be the bad guy, it makes sense for him to commit. He’s rejecting freedom, so by his own rules, he doesn’t matter.

It would be so much easier for him if everyone else agreed on that point.

He seems to be doing what he can to make that happen.

...But that’s just whimsical speculation born of profound pity more than anything. I still have trouble figuring out what his deal is. He’s eviscerating his friends in the name of them surviving, but he still terms his want as them having “long, happy lives.” While actively interfering with both those aims.

This chapter doesn’t seem to leave much room for a secret other plan that Eren is secretly putting into action. That’s been my hope from the beginning, and pretty much every bit of my confusion here is why. The majority of the conflict here comes from Eren deliberately fucking things up. It’s like he accidentally poisoned a bunch of people by using the wrong chemicals to clean up the dead body of the person he killed who totally deserved it, and figured the best following response was to repeat the process.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that the Eren we’re starting to see looks broken beyond all repair, and we’re missing the breaking point. We can puzzle out possibilities and trauma, but at the end of the day he has chosen such a destructive route that it needs more justification within the story.

Personally, I think that this Eren is buying into his own bad press so completely that he’s stopped giving himself freedom. That is my most established take.

The fact that that read play in nicely with Mikasa wrapping the scarf around him and taking him home has very little to do with that except that’s where my brain spends most of its time now, I guess.

.

.

AND NOW WE’RE BACK TO HISTORIA BECAUSE WHY THE FUCK SHOULD I EVER GET TO HAVE A SINGLE MOMENT OF PEACE.

Hell.

I am tired of going over all the ways in which this does not make sense. I am, perhaps, equally tired of how every single time the pregnancy subplot comes up, it manages to get worse.

‘what oh noooo she’s being used to breed an army of royal babies who will eat their mother’ ‘wait nooo she manipulated a guilty childhood bully into fucking her so zeke could live for some strange reason’ ‘oh nooooooooes it turns out she actually goes and fucks npc farmer guy because zeke needs to live for eren to commit genocide and if she doesn’t let eren commit genocide that’s bad for some reason even if she was just saying it’s actually bad for him to commit genocide’

I.

????

Additionally, I realize this chapter has probably reinvigorated people’s theories that Eren is the father, which. um. continues the trend of being worse, because then you have Historia feeling like she’s backed into a corner where fucking the guy who’s about to commit genocide is her only option because if she can’t come up with some good excuse to not eat Zeke he’s going to wipe her memories.

(ETA: Hours later, I sit here remembering he can’t actually wipe her memories until after Zeke shows up. Oops. ...That somehow manages to make all of this make less sense.)

I deeply do not want to discuss that element.

I’m just bringing it up to establish that every way you spin Historia’s situation is fifty shades of rape, and it’s skeevy as fuck along with making no sense.

Glad to know that in two years, literally nothing has come along to make this better or more logical.

That’s vaguely true because it lends more credence to the idea that it’s all a lie, but at this point, the writing is breaking its own back bending over to try and make this work.

“If there is a most reliable way to make sure that this island lives on... I’ll go along with it. There was no other way... But... you defended me back then... everyone acted for my sake... That’s enough for me.”

I’m going to try to explain my problem with this without screaming.

I’m probably going to fail.

The thing is, Historia’s entire arc is about fighting fate.

Her entire arc is about undoing the cycle of abuse her family has perpetuated, breaking free of it to reclaim her identity as a person and forge a better future for the world.

She almost kills Eren for her father’s approval.

When she doesn’t, her commentary isn’t that it’s wrong, or ineffective (though she’s aware of both these elements).

She makes her case very succinctly.

“God?! What a load of bull!! You’re just saying whatever you can think of to manipulate me and save yourself!! That’s it, I’ve had enough! I won’t let you kill me!!”

Replace “save yourself” with something related to Eren, and we have the exact same plot beat we already had, for a character who’s already gone through it.

Historia’s lack of agency would be bad enough on its own.

The entire focus of the pregnancy subplot has been that it causes Eren angst.

We have not gotten Historia’s thought bubbles.

We have received her verbal compliance.

We have had her misery over her situation on display.

This is something for Eren to feel guilty and angry over, not something for Historia to interact with.

On its own, that’s bad.

When you have it attached to a character whose entire arc is about breaking damaging cycles and living a life designed by her own choices instead of following orders and roles, you have a problem.

Historia never tries to resist this fate. Not that we’re shown. She’s clearly terrified, even in the scene where she staidly offers acceptance, but Eren is the one to speak up. She’s miserable whenever we see her pregnant, but every scene with her involves her sadly going along with this thing she clearly does not want. Even when she asks Eren what he thinks about her having a child, she’s unhappy.

This is the first time she’s gotten dialogue of her own in two years.

The first little bit is her shrugging at her inevitable suffering.

The second bit is being appalled at Eren’s everything.

Then somehow we land at her proposing her inevitable suffering.

Which...

How does that help??? Anything???

My answer to that is that I’m Team Fake Pregnancy, and Historia is proposing a hypothetical thing where she ponders how her having a child would play out, but I’m sorry, what?

Eren’s upset about you losing your bodily autonomy.

Among other things, yes, but having a child you’re not enthusiastic about is the entire fucking ignition point of this fucking fuckening idiocy how is it that NEITHER OF YOU ARE IN POSSESSION OF YOUR SOLITARY BRAIN CELL WHAT IN THE  F U C K.

Even if you read it as Historia not having a child with the intent of future cannibalism, but simply having a child to get out of eating Zeke --

Holy fuck is that not better.

It’s still her feeling forced to have a kid because the alternative is lots of people dying.

She’s nineteen.

At the very fucking least this could have the decency to be her story, not a story built around making the main male lead angst enough to commit genocide. At the time of this writing, we are denied that, and while I don’t think this is totally beyond saving, the story the narrative is selling is inexcusable and insulting. The only room for improvement is if we’re actively being misled.

Which is a valid theory, but that doesn’t change my disgust at what we’re being told to believe.

Having Historia simply accept her fate is a sledgehammer to Historia’s entire character development, and Historia’s character development is a microcosm of the guiding themes of the main story. You can’t dethrone her without the manga’s entire thematic significance ringing false.

Also, while I’m here, Eren’s being a fucking prick.

In case that was somehow missed.

'hi historia friendly reminder that i’m only here to commit genocide because you saved my life because like you said you’re the worst’ ‘lol remember that time you said the titans should just kill everyone and i teased you and you said you were caught up in the heat of the moment well guess what i listened to you and everyone’s gonna die thx for the protips’

Anyway.

This is either really good or really bad.

Because Historia does some very stupid things. That is not a writing flaw, it’s a character flaw and feature. She’s impulsive and dumb and realizes things conflict with her principles nine steps into committing criminally negligent homicide, and if that’s how this is all justified...

Hell, I guess I’ll just be tired. Which I already am, so that’s. fine.

It’s funny. This is one of the times I could have gotten away with writing barely anything, since half the chapter is just trailer shots for Eren’s monster movie. Yet here we are, many words in.

I’ve thought a lot today on if I should keep reading or not. One of the things that got under my skin is that I’ve spent a long time coming up with ways for this all to turn out okay. I complain a lot, and certainly lose my temper, but I like to think I stick around because however bad this gets, I have faith that the story’s thesis is that beauty wins against cruelty.

If that’s the case, I want to be here to see it through. I want that high of things being okay when all signs point to nothing ever being okay again.

But it’s been a long day, and I’ve spent two years split between anger and hope that I’m not sure if I feel because I trust the story or if it’s become a habit I’m afraid to break.

Or if it’s because if I did give up, I’d feel insanely guilty for any of the times I’ve tried cheering people up over the bleak things going on in the manga.

I want this to be a happier story than anyone I know thinks it will turn out. I’m an optimist to a degree that people tolerate, but don’t find particularly realistic when gauged against the content.

The main character is on a genocidal march in the name of friends he has broken and betrayed. Friends who can still barely vocalize the option of putting him down.

I don’t know if I want to be here for this.

I don’t think I need to watch more cruelty unfold, no matter how much beauty survives it.

[chelsfic]

Unseemly Desire - Chapter 2 - Nandor x Guillermo Fanfic

For previous parts and more: WWDITS Masterlist

Summary: Nandor is shocked (SHOCKED!) that his plan to distance himself from Guillermo fails.

A/N: The scene at the end is directly inspired (with permission) by the brilliant fic Clean Slate by uv_duv

Warnings: Crack humor, Boat loads of ANGST, Attempted unwilling hypnosis, smut, inappropriate use of a Snuggie

---

A miasma of hurt, sadness, and anger stews around Guillermo over the next week. It settles into the drapery. It creeps into the cracks between the floorboards. It sinks into the moth-eaten fabric of the furniture. All the vampires, excepting Colin Robinson, are disturbed by the foul odor that gradually invades the household. For once, Nadja and Laszlo keep wisely silent, recognizing the fragile stability of both master and familiar. Colin quietly feeds from all of them, glowing with power in the remote solitude of his basement room.

Nandor boldly clings to his aloof facade. His slip up with Guillermo and the subsequent mind-wipe had...unnerved him. And, anyway, there is no reason why things should not go back to the way they were. He gave Guillermo what he wanted, didn’t he? And he even said he was sorry about the axe thing (although he worries that apologizing may have been beneath him). There’s no reason why Guillermo should be continuing to stink up the house with his annoying feelings.

For the first few days, Nandor spends his time devising increasingly menial chores to keep his familiar busy and--most importantly--away from him. This point is key because, lately, whenever Nandor is near his familiar he’s assaulted by disturbing memories. Like the feel of the human’s warm, soft body pressed against his aching arousal. Or the way Guillermo’s frightened breath clouded so prettily in the night air before Nandor launched an axe at his head. Or how his eyes sparkled behind his spectacles when Nandor told him he was special. It’s all highly distracting!

This strategy has the added bonus of reestablishing Guillermo’s role as a servant and not some kind of...illicit...immoral...stomach butterflying...something else! The plan is going great and the house has never looked better. The mouse poops in the cellar have all been swept up. The gutters are clear. Nadja and Laszlo’s sex toy collection has finally been hygienically cleaned. But an unforeseen problem occurs to Nandor on about the third night of Guillermo’s new, stringent routine.

---

Guillermo stands beside the heavy, wooden coffin, ready to assist his master when he rises for the evening like always. Dutiful. Loyal. Devoted.

Pathetic.

He sways on his feet and his eyelids drop closed for an instant before he jerks back to attention. Ever since the night of the axe throwing contest--no, ever since the feeding, Nandor has been even more difficult and demanding than usual. And maybe Guillermo could deal with it better if he didn’t have echoes of the vampire’s careless words ringing in his ears. Disgusting...unnatural… He’d known that his little crush was doomed from the start. But to hear Nandor refer to him as so decidedly beneath his dignity was a fatal blow to his fragile self-delusion. It’s been years since Guillermo resigned himself to Nandor’s perpetual procrastination in making him a vampire. He’d stayed on because...why? Because he cared for Nandor. Because every once in awhile Nandor would do something to reveal that he cared back. But now? What’s the point?

The coffin creaks open and Nandor sits up looking unfairly handsome. His hair should at least be mussed from sleeping all day, but no, it’s smooth and gorgeous as ever and Guillermo feels a spike of anger just looking at his stupid, beautiful master. Nandor stands, wordlessly holding out his hand without even making eye contact. A long moment passes and Guillermo remains stubbornly still, staring at a spot on Nandor’s chest where, he supposes, his dead, unfeeling heart must be.

Finally, Nandor whines with a frown, “Guillermo? What is this? You’re my familiar for years, suddenly I make your wildest fantasy come true and you think you don’t have to help me out of my coffin anymore? Is this the new you?”

Guillermo breathes in and out, his eyes hardening to dark diamond points before he looks up and meets Nandor’s petulant gaze. 

“I didn’t think you’d want to touch my...disgusting human hand,” he bites the words out with something close to a growl and Nandor startles, curling his fingers inward as he withdraws his hand.

“Have you washed since you cleaned the mouse poops, Guillermo?” he curls his lips back in revulsion.

Guillermo’s voice drips with barely contained frustration as he snaps, “Yes, of course!”

Nandor shrugs, laying his hand over the top of his familiar’s head for balance as he steps out of the coffin. 

“There’s no need for that insolent tone. Do you want to get another demerit?” 

Guillermo could scream. 

---

What the shit was that all about? Not only is his familiar stinking up the house with his human emotional funk, now he’s being disrespectful? 

Nandor stalks down to the cell for a quick snack, tearing into a crying man’s jugular as he ponders the problem with Guillermo. He goes through all that effort, with the music and the smelling-things, to give the guy a nice little bite on the neck and what does he get? Nothing but accusations from his roommates and not a shred of gratitude from his familiar. The little guy isn’t even appreciating all the work he went through coming up with creative chores to remind him how valuable he is as a servant!

He probably wouldn’t care so much if it weren’t for the very confusing way his body responds to Guillermo’s bad mood. He keeps feeling this ache in his belly no matter how much blood he drinks. And his heart squeezes in his chest thinking about the sad little frown on Guillermo’s lips. This symptom is very alarming since his heart isn’t supposed to be doing that. He wants to make his familiar smile at him again like he did when he’d pressed his nose into the flowers he’d got for him. 

Thinking about that night, as the victim’s blood pools on his tongue, there are other things he wants, too. He wants to hear Guillermo making those little passionate, mewls as his fangs tear into his throat. He wants Guillermo’s hands to thread through his hair again. Wants to go back and dare himself to explore his familiar’s body, to see if he was as physically affected by the feeding as Nandor was.

Fuck! This isn’t helping! He drops the dead human onto the floor of the cell with a frustrated growl,  stalking off and leaving a trail of sad, frustrated, horny vampire scent behind him.

He finds Guillermo without realizing that was his intent. The familiar is reaching up on his tiptoes to dust the ornaments and photographs arranged on the mantle in the library. Nandor floats into the room as a vapor, hanging suspended in the air and watching as Guillermo sinks back on his heels, leaning his forehead on the smooth, polished wood of the mantle and barely suppressing a yawn as his eyes drift closed. Guillermo’s breathing starts to steady out and he falls asleep while standing. Nandor feels that annoying heart-squeeze thing even in his vapor form! Normally he would not tolerate his familiar falling asleep on the job, but he notes the dark circles beneath Guillermo’s eyes and the look of strain on his face even as he sleeps. Perhaps...perhaps increasing his work load has been the wrong move?

Nandor transforms, coming to stand beside Guillermo and placing one large hand on his sweater-clad shoulder. Guillermo jumps awake at once, the feather duster flying from his hand and clattering to the floor in his surprise. 

“I--I’m sorry, master. I was just resting my eyes,” Guillermo squeaks, hurriedly stooping to pick up the duster.

Nandor stands there regarding his familiar in silence for a moment. The bruise on his throat has started to fade, just as he promised it would. But it is still an obvious marring of light purple and sickly yellow. Nandor’s lips part as he stares down at the marks made by his own fangs. Words drift through his mind. Things he might say. Guillermo, you seem tired. I’m sorry I’ve been so hard on you… You looked so adorable in your sleep, I wanted to bite your face off… Why don’t I bite the other side of your neck to make a pretty matching bruise…

“Master?”

Nandor clears his throat and gestures to the mess of blood coating his mouth and beard, “Could you help me with this?”

“Of course,” Guillermo mutters, setting aside his hurt and secretly thrilling at the chance to perform one of his favorite familiar duties.

---

Guillermo holds the damp washcloth aloft in front of Nandor’s face and reaches out to cup his jaw, gently tilting his head back so that he can set to work cleaning away the blood. They’re in the downstairs bathroom. Nandor sits on the toilet with Guillermo standing between his knees, leaning forward with a look of concentration as he gently dabs away the mess.

Nandor sighs with pleasure and murmurs, “That’s very nice, Guillermo. You always get the water just the right temperature. Not too hot, not too cold.”

Guillermo feels his face flush with his master’s praise even as he reminds himself that the words are empty and placating. He’s been surviving on scraps long enough to know to take what he can get.

“Thank you, master,” he replies, smothering another yawn. His eyes are transfixed, watching the towel stroke back and forth over Nandor’s lush, full lips. He almost hates to see the blood coming away as he works, because Nandor’s blood stained mouth is like a snapshot straight out of his deepest fantasies. Fuck! How pitiful is it that he’s still thinking this way after everything his master said the other night?

Nandor is oblivious to his familiar’s internal struggle, but he notes the yawn with a dismayed frown.

“I’ve been…” he chokes on the words but forces them out, “working you a little hard these last few nights, Guillermo. You are tired. Why don’t you take a nice rest after this?”

He smiles up at his familiar, feeling that inexplicable swell of happiness that always accompanies a kindness shown to the soft, little human. What has happened to him? He used to be the stuff of nightmares and now he is getting his kicks being nice to a mortal?

If Nandor’s heart hadn’t stopped beating centuries ago then it would surely stop now at the sight of the grateful smile slowly spreading over Guillermo’s lips. 

“That would be...really nice. Thank you, master,” Guillermo replies, starting in on cleansing Nandor’s beard with the smile still tugging on the corners of his mouth. Nandor can’t keep his eyes from that mouth and the happy feeling is still swirling around in his chest and he wonders if he can maybe make his familiar smile even more…

“Maybe we could...we could watch that movie you’re always harping on about. The Vampire Interview,” Nandor suggests. He waits for a reaction and is rewarded for his effort when his familiar’s face lights up with an incandescent grin.

“Interview with the Vampire!? Really? You want to watch it...together?” Guillermo sounds both hopeful and doubtful and it tugs at Nandor’s dead heart.

“Yes, as I said,” Nandor answers. And, because he needs to assert some control over this confusing situation, he adds, “I will watch the Interview with the Vampire with you. I need to supervise and make sure that you are resting properly so that you can get back to your duties tomorrow…”

---

About a year earlier all the vampires in the house went through a Home Shopping Network phase. The front stoop was piled daily with boxes of all shapes and sizes containing everything from porcelain dolls for Nadja to a Bedazzler for Nandor and Shake Weights for Laszlo (who assumed they were intended for erotic use). Even Colin Robinson got in on the craze, ordering those products he estimated would be most likely to result in class action litigation. Eventually Guillermo had to put his foot down, sitting everyone down in the library and painstakingly explaining the importance of good credit, financial literacy and the fact that the vampires actually had bills to pay. Everyone pouted for a few days but no one so much as Nandor.

Because Nandor had recently discovered the holy grail, so to speak, of As Seen On TV products: the Snuggie. And he had a powerful need. But no amount of whining, cajoling or lashing out would convince Guillermo to relinquish his hold on the vampire’s credit card.

“It’s for your own good, master! Please!” Guillermo finally begged after Nandor’s thousandth plaintive glare.

“But it’s a blanket...for snuggling, Guillermo! I need it!” Nandor whined, stomping his foot.

Guillermo shook his head, “That’s not really...never mind. Who are you planning on snuggling with, anyway?”

Nandor paused in his tantrum, darting his eyes around and looking everywhere but at his familiar. If he could have, he would have been blushing.

“No one you know!” Nandor insisted, his voice a little too loud. “A vampire. A really cool...really hot vampire that I know…”

He was the bane of Guillermo’s existence for weeks, holding onto the idea of the Snuggie with uncharacteristic tenacity. One night, while Guillermo was doing some shopping for himself, he stumbled across a display of the damn things in CVS. He couldn’t help but smile and roll his eyes as he stuffed it into his cart.

Nandor was happy with the gift for a few minutes until he got it out of the box and Guillermo instructed him on how to put it on. 

“But...there’s no room for the other person! How am I supposed to snuggle in this...chastity bag?!” 

Guillermo hasn’t seen the Snuggie since.

---

“I made popped corn!” Nandor announces in a sing-song as he ducks into the closet-room beneath the stairs. He holds out a bowl full of blackened, burned kernels with a proud smile, “Colin Robinson helped me.”

“I bet he did,” Guillermo mutters under his breath before forcing a bright, pleased smile onto his face, “Wow, master! Thank you!”

Guillermo takes the bowl and sets it on the rickety stool that serves as his nightstand. He’s sitting a little rigidly on the bed with his laptop propped on his knees. He scoots in toward the wall and pats the threadbare blanket beside him, “D-do you want to sit? I’m sorry there’s not more space, we could go in the fancy room--”

“No,” Nandor interrupts with a wave of his hand. “This is...fine. More restful for you.”

And less of a chance that one of the other roommates will interrupt and they’ll end up in another axe throwing situation.

Nandor sits down gingerly on the bed, slotting his long legs beside Guillermo’s shorter ones and awkwardly fidgeting with a fuzzy bundle in his lap.

“What’s that, master?” Guillermo asks, tapping the keys on his laptop as he brings up the movie. 

“Oh, this?” Nandor attempts nonchalance as he shakes out the fabric. “It is my Snuggie. I thought that...maybe it might help with your sleepiness problem. Get you nice and comfy cozy for the movie.”

He tosses the blanket-garment at Guillermo and stares down at his hands, fiddling with his rings as he listens to his familiar’s heart skip a beat. Nandor’s lips twitch. How he enjoys that fluttery little sound. 

Guillermo gently spreads the Snuggie over himself, ignoring the ridiculous sleeves and using it as a regular blanket. He’s feeling a lot of things right now. Happiness that this impossibly cute scenario is actually playing out, like a manifestation of his most tame Nandor-related dreams. Wariness, because Nandor has been extra shitty lately and he never knows when one of his magnanimous moods will swing in the other direction. And, mostly, confusion. 

He shakes his head and tries to go with the flow, “Thanks, master. Very cozy. You ready to start the movie?”

The vampire nods and Guillermo presses play, feeling that mix of anticipation and fear that comes with sharing a favorite movie with someone who’s never seen it. He squirms a bit, jostling the laptop as he gets comfortable under the blanket. Nandor remains statue-like beside him, his lips pulled back in an uncomfortable smile as he keeps his eyes fixed on the screen and tries to ignore his delicious familiar and the way his soft, warm body is pressed against his side in the tiny bed.

“So you want me to tell you the story of my life?” Guillermo mouths the words as Brad Pitt speaks, falling into the cinematic magic and letting go of his nerves as the movie starts playing. Even Nandor gets into it, whooping when Louis frightens Daniel with his vampiric speed.

“That’s always a fun trick to play on mortals, Guillermo! They totally freak out!” Nandor laughs.

As the film goes on Guillermo notices that Nandor is starting to fidget. He’s lightly stroking the fleece fabric of the Snuggie with a look of poorly concealed longing. Guillermo watches from the corner of his eye and wonders to himself. Hadn’t he originally though it was meant for two people? Did he want…?

Guillermo clears his throat and goes for it. What the hell. This has been a week of revelations already.

“Are you cold, master? There’s room under the Snuggie,” Guillermo casually suggests, lifting the end toward Nandor invitingly. 

Nandor darts a look at the closed curtain that acts as Guillermo’s door, as if he’s worried Laszlo or Nadja is about to jump out from behind it and cry, “Gotcha!”

“It is a little nippy in here…” Nandor trails off, hesitating for another beat before taking the edge of the blanket and pulling it over him. It’s more than large enough to fit over both of them comfortably.

Nandor smiles with glee and slips his arm through the draping sleeve on his side, “Guillermo! Put your arm in the sleeve.”

Guillermo smiles in bemusement and does as he’s told, pushing the fabric up to free his hand and looking over at Nandor expectantly.

“Look at us, Guillermo!” Nandor grins. “We look like one of those poor wretches in the human freak show.”

Guillermo’s smile falters and he knits his brows in confusion for a second, “You mean...conjoined twins?”

“Yes!” Nandor laughs. “We are like the rejoined twins.”

Guillermo giggles. He’s feeling almost lightheaded with how...nice this is. He turns back to the screen, shifting down the mattress a bit and ever so slightly leaning into his master’s solid bulk. Nandor looks down at the top of Guillermo’s head, admiring the curly waves of hair pressed against his shoulder. He decides to allow it. For the sake of Guillermo’s rest, of course.

Now that the Snuggie covers them and Guillermo’s attention is fixed on the movie, Nandor lets himself relax. He loosens the set of his shoulders and his legs splay out more naturally beneath the folds of fleece. He lets his left hand, the one thankfully concealed by the blanket, fall to his side, the back of his hand brushing Guillermo’s. The human’s hand twitches in response and he feels his familiar’s fingers reach out experimentally, grazing over Nandor’s knuckles. 

Nandor releases a soft, startled breath and he turns his wrist, capturing the soft little hand in his own and entwining their fingers in the safe, forgiving darkness beneath the blanket. Both men keep their eyes glued to the laptop without truly seeing anything playing on the screen. Nandor thinks this will be okay as long as neither of them acknowledges what’s happening. Guillermo’s heart is in his throat. He’s elated and also petrified to do anything to break the spell of the moment. He feels like a teenager holding hands for the first time in a darkened movie theater.

Nandor’s palm is cool against his warm skin and his hand is absolutely giant, completely engulfing Guillermo’s smaller one. It’s Nandor who finally breaks the fragile tension, squeezing Guillermo’s hand so, so carefully. He’s mindful, as he always is when he touches his human, of how easy it would be to slip and break something, accidentally turning Guillermo’s perfect little hand into a fistful of pulp and bones. Guillermo squeezes back and slides their palms together in a soft caress. Nandor can’t see his face from this angle, but he thinks he sees the tell-tale dimple in Guillermo’s cheek that means he’s smiling. Again that strange, overwhelming joy in his chest. He wants to make Guillermo happy like this always. But...how?

Guillermo nuzzles his face into Nandor’s shoulder and the vampire lets out an involuntary purr that rumbles through his chest. Guillermo squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his face into the fabric of Nandor’s sleeve and giving up all pretense of watching the movie. He breathes in his master’s scent, cold and earthy with hints of argan oil and lavender. His chest hitches with each breath as he works up the nerve to do what he wants to do. Nandor’s words from the garden float back to him. He’d curled his lip at Guillermo. He’d practically spit at the very idea of touching him. But here he is in bed with him, with their fingers twined together like young lovers, with Guillermo clinging to his side for dear life and he’s not shrinking away or scolding him. He’s responding…

Guillermo opens his eyes and peeks up at his master. Nandor stares down at him with an unreadable expression in his bottomless dark eyes. If he doesn’t at least try this now then he never will. Guillermo parts his lips, flicking his gaze down to Nandor’s mouth and then back up to his eyes. He sits up, bringing their faces so close he can feel Nandor’s cool breath on his lips. Nandor hasn’t moved, his face is still unreadable. Guillermo’s brows draw together in a silent, pleading question and then he leans in, dragging out the movement so that Nandor will have every opportunity to pull away if that’s what he wants. But he doesn’t.

Their lips touch in the briefest, softest kiss. Guillermo pulls back almost at once, his breath stuttering in his throat and his lips tingling. He looks up at Nandor with frantic, desperate hope.

“Is this…?” he starts to ask but Nandor presses his fingers to his lips to stop the words before they can ruin everything.

“Don’t. Speak,” he commands.

Guillermo nods, his eyes going wide and plaintive as Nandor’s fingers fall away. For a moment they are immobile. Neither one of them is capable of bridging the gap between them nor of pulling away. Nandor’s breath may be nothing more than muscle memory, but it is ragged and torn from his throat as he contemplates the damage done to his great, wise plan by the merest touch of a hand and a kiss from this dear, precious human.

Then Nandor falls forward, knocking the laptop off of Guillermo’s legs and covering his familiar’s body with his own as he latches onto his mouth. He sucks Guillermo’s lower lip into his mouth, running his tongue along the plump flesh and nibbling carefully. Guillermo moans and Nandor reaches up and wraps his hand around the human’s throat, squeezing softly in warning. Guillermo mutters under his breath, sorrysorrysorry.

Nandor’s hand moves from Guillermo’s neck and instead cups his cheek. He runs his thumb over the cheekbone before burying his hand into the soft curls at the back of his neck as he plunges his tongue into Guillermo’s mouth. He plunders, conquers and pillages his human. And why not? Why should Nandor the Relentless, conqueror of thousands, who once boasted a harem of 37 wives and hundreds of concubines, be afraid of claiming one, silly human for his own pleasure? Why should he worry what others will think when he could be enjoying the sweet, hot feeling of his familiar’s mouth every night? Why deny himself? Why worry about Guillermo’s constant, complicated and exhausting human emotions? He belongs to Nandor not the other way around.

Nandor is riding high on these realizations and he lets himself give in, letting go of his control more than he’s ever allowed himself to in Guillermo’s presence. He presses his body down more firmly against Guillermo’s and he hisses in pleasure when he discovers his familiar’s rigid erection pressing into his thigh. Yes. Yes. He can have this if he wants it. He can have this and he can have Guillermo as his faithful, obedient slave. He can--

Guillermo whines with need as Nandor rolls his thigh against his aching arousal. This is everything he’s ever wanted from the vampire and more than he’d ever dreamed of receiving. He wraps his hands around his master’s shoulders, tugging on his luscious mane of hair and thrusting upwards to increase the friction on his crotch. Guillermo’s single, disappointing high school handjob is the extent of his sexual experience and he’s absolutely overwhelmed. Nandor is everything...he’s never felt so--

“I...ngggh...fucking love you, Nandor,” Guillermo cries as he comes in his pants, falling back into his single, sad pillow with a broken whimper. 

Nandor hovers over his spent familiar, staring down at him with a shell-shocked expression in his eyes. It takes a moment for Guillermo to register the words that fell from his lips only seconds ago and then he’s sputtering, eyes wide and trying to take it back.

“I didn’t--I mean, I don’t...I…” he can’t say it. He can’t lie about this, not now that the words are out there. He looks up at Nandor and his heart sinks as he watches his master’s face smooth over into an impenetrable mask. “Please don’t, master.”

Don’t retreat from this. Don’t go back to pretending. Don’t reject me now that you’ve cracked open my rib cage to reveal the beating-heart truth of my feelings. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.

Nandor shakes his head minutely and brings his hand up to smooth down an errant lock of Guillermo’s hair. It feels like a block of ice has settled in the vampire’s stomach. He’d thought he could have this but Guillermo had gone and ruined it. He’s silent for a moment, tracing the lines of Guillermo’s face with his eyes as if he’s burning this moment into his memory. A single tear leaks from the corner of his familiar’s eye and Nandor wipes it away before it can fall into his hairline. He sighs.

“Guillermo…” he leans back a bit, looking sad but resolute, “I...I shouldn’t have let this happen. And you! You disobeyed me. I asked you not to speak. Why couldn’t you obey me, Guillermo?”

The question comes out choked and angry and Guillermo can only shake his head and mutter, “I’m sorry, master…”

Nandor shakes himself, taking control of these unwieldy emotions and answering with an approximation of calm, “It’s alright, Guillermo. I...I won’t let you remember this.”

He brings his hand up between them and holds it before Guillermo’s face. The human blanches, struggling pointlessly to get out from under Nandor’s solid weight. But Nandor presses down, pinning him against the mattress as Guillermo starts to cry.

“No, master, please!” he screws his eyes shut, turning his face away in an attempt to block Nandor’s hypnotic power. “Please don’t do this to me, Nandor. Please let me...let me keep this. We can never talk about it again. I’ll go back to how it was before. I’ll be your familiar and I’ll never ever leave you, please. Just...don’t…”

Guillermo’s voice breaks and he sobs, burying his face into Nandor’s chest and clutching his hands in the heavy fabric of his vest. Nandor has never felt worse. The lingering taste of Guillermo’s kiss on his lips turns to ash. How has he managed to ruin everything again!? He’d nearly succeeded building up the strict walls between them, knocking Guillermo back down to his rightful place. But then he’d let his stupid addiction to making the human happy cloud his judgement and now he’s made Guillermo more miserable than ever!

“It will be better if you don’t remember, Guillermo,” Nandor whispers, bringing his hands up to cradle the back of his familiar’s head. “Less painful.”

“Why?” the word is muffled. Guillermo speaks into his chest, too afraid to pull away and risk being hypnotized.

Nandor strokes his fingers through the dark curls and answers, “Because this cannot be...between us. It’s--”

“Disgusting? Unnatural?” Guillermo prompts angrily.

Nandor sighs, “You’re not...disgusting to me, Guillermo. I should not have used that word.”

“Then what!?” Guillermo asks and he pulls back to glare into Nandor’s eyes, forgetting the danger in his fury.

“It...simply cannot be…” he brings his hand up between them once more and Guillermo stays frozen in place, tears spilling down his cheeks and his lips quivering.

“Don’t,” he pleads one more time and Nandor’s heart does the squeezy thing again. Are human emotions contagious?

His hand drops and Nandor turns away, baring his fangs in a furious hiss. He stands up abruptly, awkwardly disentangling himself from the Snuggie and throwing it down onto the bed. He straightens his clothing, determinedly looking away from his familiar as he speaks, “You really should turn that silly movie off and go to sleep, Guillermo. There’s still many chores left for you to complete tomorrow…”

With that Nandor flees the cramped room under the stairs, almost running down the hallway to his crypt as things that are definitely not tears sting at his eyes.

[gingrrfrog]

these nights (4)

word count: 5.6k :/ kinda long sry

warnings: angst

summary: jeno, yejin, and jaemin were a team. they told each other everything, they trusted each other. jaemin nor jeno would lie, right? right?

a/n: hi idk how many of u like this but since the c*ronavirus has me locked inside my house im just gonna write until this is over :/ hehe enjoy also here’s a masterlist I concocted just for timeline purposes :] 

After an hour of chatting, Jihyun finally decided that she was hungry. They both argued over who should cook, Jihyun’s reasoning being for coming over unannounced while Yejin’s reasoning was that Jihyun was the guest—and she would be a horrible host if she made her cook. The bickering ended instead with her calling her sous chef, Taeyong, secretly while Yejin was in the bathroom. Yejin begged, the last thing she wanted to be was a nuisance during but Jihyun only assured her by informing her that Taeyong lived in this same building, asking a small favor before ordering him to shut the restaurant down due to the snow outside.

“You really didn’t have to do that, Unnie. I really could’ve made us something to eat.”

“And I’m telling you that Taeyong owes me a few favors anyway! Plus, it’s not like he’s far from where you live and he lives right upstairs. I promise you it’s fine.”

Yejin sighed heavily, “you’re unbelievable.”

“Believe it or not, it’s not the first time I’ve heard that.”

Yejin could only laugh as they continued to talk. Yejin opted to sit on the floor criss-crossed as they talked about littler happenings in Jihyun’s pregnancy. Yejin looked at the coffee table while she spoke, noticing a few incriminating photos from the night before, haphazardly shoved under magazines.

Fuck you, Na Jaemin. She hissed to herself. After this, she was never letting Jaemin clean anything. It’s almost as if he planned this. Just then, Jihyun reached over to take the magazine after noticing Yejin’s attention was on the magazine.

“Is there something on the magazine? Oh pictures! Oh—pictures—“

Yejin could do nothing but watch in horror as Jihyun stared at the polaroid in her hands. It was almost like staring at a car crash, she wanted more than anything to look away, but the picture of Jeno’s dick in her hand almost demanded her attention.

“Holy shit, is this Jeno?”

Yejin blanched, her hands catching her hand in pure, unadulterated embarrassment. If she could call Jaemin right now she would scream his ear off, “I am so fucking sorry.”

“No it’s—“ Jihyun tried her best to stifle a laugh as she placed the polaroid back on the coffee table. “It’s…reassuring to know that Jaehyun and I aren’t the only one who do this.”

“But you and Jaehyun oppa don’t keep the photos stupidly hidden under a magazine,” Yejin groaned, her head still hiding in her hands. “I’m going to fucking kill Jaemin.”

“That’s very true. If anyone saw me naked Jaehyun would skin them alive from pure jealousy,” Jihyun failed to hold her giggles back any longer, pulling at Yejin’s arm. “Don’t be embarrassed! I’m not embarrassed! Shocked, maybe, but it’s healthy!”

“You have an amazing body—“ Jihyun mentioned, laughing harder when Yejin screamed out in pain, covering her ears from anymore bullying.

“I need to see your naked pictures now, then,” Yejin said out of nowhere. “There’s no way I can go through this embarrassment on my own.”

“First of all, I have nothing to embarrassed about. Secondly, Jaehyun has them under lock and key, I don’t even get to see them.”

Yejin blinked, “he keeps your photos under lock and key?”

“Ah, well, the disgusting ones are on an old phone, but there’s more to the old phone that made Jaehyun lock it up. It’s not just my asshole on display. However, if you want a conception story for this,” Jihyun pointed to her belly, “there’s an hour long video on that phone.”

“Oh, Jesus, gross,” Yejin meant to say internally, but it came out as a whisper as Jihyun threw a pillow at her.

“Gross?!”

“I don’t really want to think about Jaehyun oppa that way! It’s weird,” she mumbled. “As beautiful as you are together, he’s not my type.”

“What is your type then?” Jihyun asked, taking another pillow under her chin, “dopey eyed and nagging?”

Yejin snorted, “yeah, actually.”

“And you couldn’t find it in one so you gathered two?”

“Jaemin wasn’t planned, it just kind of happened.”

“I’ve heard that one,” Jihyun grinned, running her hand over her stomach, causing Yejin to laugh.

“I’m serious! I thought he hated me at first, Jaemin. He only glared at me for the first two weeks, but he had to get used to me. Jeno was the only person I knew in Korea when I got here, and I followed him almost everywhere. Jaemin had the key code to our apartment then, and I was always there when Jeno wasn’t, and he kind of had to settle for me until Jeno got home from wherever he was.”

“Jaemin has always been like that as a kid, especially if it was towards Jeno.” Jihyun took the time to reminisce of Jeno and Jaemin when they were younger, always offering fleeting touches whenever they were around or always searching for the others hand when they were far. “Jaemin is possessive, just like Jaehyun, but he likes to pretend he isn’t.”

“What about Jeno, then? What was he like as a kid?”

“You’re going to hate this, but Jeno was a normal kid. He played video games after school, he ate played outside with Jaemin or whatever friend he had at the time, and then he went home. There really isn’t a difference from the Jeno you’re seeing now and the Jeno then.”

“Can I ask you something?” Yejin sat up on the couch, next to Jihyun’s head as she peered up at her. “I guess I’m just a little confused, and I know that this all works with families and stuff, but did you really grow up with Jaehyun and his brothers?”

“I did. I mentioned that I was always with my dad during his jobs, and he was Jaehyun’s dad second-in-command at the time. I was always at their house, playing video games with Jaehyun because he couldn’t go outside a lot because he got sick easily. I played with Jaemin when he got older and I babysat Jisung when he was born. Jaehyun and I grew up together but we didn’t realize we had feelings for each other until we were fifteen…”

“Well, I didn’t realize I had feelings for him until I was fifteen. Jaehyun said he always knew, but I think he’s a liar.” Jihyun laughed.

Yejin smiled fondly, “that’s…kind of amazing. It all makes sense now, I guess, but what about Jeno?”

Jihyun hummed slightly to herself, “Jeno’s family…it’s a little difficult, I’m sure you gathered that already. Jeno’s dad died pretty young, and Jeno’s mom left after that but you know all about his sister.”

Yejin blinked. She racked in her brain for a mention of a sister—Jeno had mentioned his parents several times, about how his father died and his mother left, this was knowledge she had gathered from Jaemin. But a sister? Jeno nor Jaemin mentioned a sister.

Jihyun looked up from her hands to see Yejin contemplating and trying to remember. Jihyun bit her lip and sat up quickly, her head spinning.

“Jeno…Jeno hasn’t told you about her?”

“I mean no but maybe he forgot—or maybe we never got to it or maybe…” Yejin admitted defeat as she realized that Jeno never mentioned his sister and perhaps never made any plans to do so. Jihyun offered an awkward grimace.

Jihyun pondered for a moment, wondering how much she could say without offending the walls Jeno very obviously built. Should Jeno decide to tear the walls himself was one thing, however, it was not up to Jihyun to determine when and how. But, considering the hurt behind Yejin’s eyes, she gathered that it was now the time to play damage control.

“Please don’t be mad that he never told you. Jeno…he likes to be happy. He likes to feel loved and surrounded by the ones he loves—so please be understanding as to why he never told you. I don’t think he ever wanted to remember.”

“Jeno’s sister was my best friend in school. Like Jaehyun, we grew up together too and I considered her my older sister too. We were a set—Johnny oppa and Jieun unnie, Jaehyun and I. When I wasn’t at Jaehyun’s house, I was at their house after school while Jeno was always asking if Jaemin was with me. Jaemin was always attached to my hip at the time, so I guess that’s how Jeno and Jaemin got to be as close as they were.”

“Sorry, I just—“ Yejin shook her head as she tried to digest new information. Five years together and Jeno never gave a hint to a sibling. That being said, this opened a new family tree, one that was huge. “Jeno’s sister, Jieun unnie was with Johnny. Johnny’s first wife died before I got here, so that means Johnny—“

“Is Jeno’s brother in law? Yeah.”

“Then, all of Johnny’s kids are his nieces and nephews?”

Jihyun gave a sheepish smile, “…yeah.”

Yejin let her head fall against the couch, her hands on her face once again as she gripped her scalp, “what the fuck. What the fuck, Lee Jeno?!”

“This isn’t going well, is it?” Jihyun asked, her bottom lip in between her teeth as Yejin reappeared from her hands.

“What happened? Why isn’t she around what the fuck! Why didn’t Jeno tell me anything?!”

“It’s not his fault!” Jihyun quickly tried to explain. “A lot... a lot happened before you got here, Yejin. Jaehyun’s dad died earlier than we thought, alliances that we had were broken at Jaehyun’s sudden inheritance, it was a war we weren’t even slightly ready for.”

“What happened to Jeno’s sister?” Yejin asked again, noticing that Jihyun was trying to divert the conversation. Once the latter realized she had failed, she scooted closer to Yejin, taking her hands in her own and she stared at her with urgency.

“There’s only so much I can tell you, Yejin. Please understand, I was never supposed to tell you about Jieun unnie, that’s above my role. All I can tell you is that once we found out Johnny was a target, he took great care in making sure that she was safe. She took the wrong car that morning, and what was meant for Johnny landed on Jieun unnie.”

Guilt fueled in Yejin’s stomach as she realized she had pressed too hard, watching as Jihyun’s eyes watered at the memory she just barely managed to heal—only for Yejin to come and pick at the wound.

“Jeno lost everything after that. He wasn’t the same, nobody was. He left the day after the funeral and we didn’t know where he was, we looked all over Asia but we never thought he’d be in the states,” Jihyun explained quietly. “Before we could tell him to come back, he came back on his own...with you.”

“That...could be some explanation as to why Jaemin glared at you when you first came up. He was trying to protect Jeno from anything that could hurt him.”

“Jaemin thought i was going to hurt him?”

“...we all did,” Jihyun admitted. “I gave you the benefit of the doubt and thankfully it worked out for this long, but it took me a long time to get me to convince Jaehyun and Johnny oppa that you weren’t going to hurt Jeno. Meanwhile, you took care of Jaemin on your own.”

Yejin huffed, eyes pooling almost instantly as she crashed into Jihyun’s arms, “thank you for trusting me. I love Jeno, more than anything— I would never hurt him.”

She could feel Jihyun’s smile as she wrapped her arms around her body, patting her back, “I know. You don’t have to thank me, if anything, I should be thanking you. I was scared that Jeno would be broken the rest of his life, but you came and it looked like he got better...even now though, I can see that it still hurts him.”

“Regardless, I’m grateful that you were there, and although you had to find out in the most fucked up way, you never asking questions led Jeno to love and appreciate you more.”

“Does that mean that I should never bring this up?”

Jihyun sighed, “that’s a tricky question. I’m not in the position to say because it’s not my relationship and I know you’ll be opening a traumatic can of worms if you do.”

“Should I run it past Jaemin?”

“That might be your safest bet, but you’re not entirely safe from his defensiveness either, fair warning.”

Yejin sighed, still wrapped in Jihyun’s arms as she felt another member begin to squirm against her arm.

“Oh—someone’s awake.”

“She has really good timing.” Yejin mentioned quietly, lifting herself up from her Jihyun’s hold.

“She’s good at that,” Jihyun smiled gently.

Yejin took the time to lay down, watching Jihyun’s stomach stretch and pull as her baby practiced what seemed like yoga inside her. Yejin has never had information overload, but if she did, she imagined this is what it was like. Jihyun took her turn to sit on the floor then, resting her arms on the couch with her head resting against them as she carefully studied Yejin’s face.

“Talk to me, Angel.”

“I’m...just trying to process, I guess.”

“I’m sorry. I should’ve never said anything, this is my fault—“

“No, it’s not. I’m not blaming anyone but I’m definitely...upset that no one told me anything until now.” Yejin played with the frayed ends of the pillow she was laying on, staring blankly at the floor. “Jeno is the person I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with, Jaemin too, so how long were they planning on keeping this from me?”

“We all have our demons, Yejin.”

“But we also have people that help us fight them. I just don’t.. I don’t understand.”

“Is there anything you’ve never told Jeno?”

���I mean, I try to be as transparent as I can with him, because I expect the same thing but—“

“—you said try?”

Yejin chewed at her cheek, “maybe I’ve kept things from Jeno and Jaem too, but it still doesn’t reach missing sibling and family information level.”

“Like?”

“Like...I don’t know! Nothing important! Little things!”

“That’s subjective.”

Yejin huffed in disbelief, “I know what you’re doing and it’s not going to work on me, Jihyun unnie.”

“I’m not telling you to not be mad at Jeno. I’m just telling you, try to see why he hid it in the first place.”

Yejin grimaced, sitting back up and noticing that her stomach was fully growling at this point. It took a few more seconds for the door bell to ring, Jihyun turning her neck and chuckling to herself quietly.

“Looks like Taeyong oppa also has good timing.”

Yejin helped Jihyun get up from the floor to open the door. Yejin would only be around to thank Taeyong for coming all this way, to which she already had the entire conversation scripted in her head. Taeyong would say it was no problem and that he would do anything for Jihyun, while Jihyun would kiss him goodbye before Doyoung killed her for keeping him from his boyfriend.

The conversation went almost identically in real life, with the exception that Taeyong playfully whined from being discharged from work before greeting Yejin and kissing Jihyun goodbye.

“Let’s eat, hm? everything is better after a good meal.” Jihyun tried her best to comfort while Yejin gave her dull smiles and nods of affirmation.

Maybe this is the feeling of uncertainty and fear she was feeling the morning?

Jaemin 

Sometimes Jaemin wished he didn’t have the job he did. It was nothing against his brother, everything he started and created, and he definitely didn’t feel this disdain because of the danger that came with it. If anything, he wished he were a little further along, near Jeno’s league, doing things like staking out and shooting things…and…well…just doing the cool things that wise guys did.

But Jaemin? Jaemin is nothing but a dirty accountant and that bored him. He doesn’t understand completely why he’s here, sitting in the room along with his brother and Johnny, listening to them vent and scream to the other people on the phone about why a certain action is reckless and why Kun isn’t allowed to do x,y,z.

This is so fucking boring, and Jaemin is barely allowed to go out to take a piss.

During these times, Jaemin would usually entertain himself with Jihyun if she was home, taking time to bond with his soon-to-be sister and take advantage of her cooking, but Jihyun was over with Yejin doing God knows what and probably having ten times more fun than him.  Jaemin holds back a groan before Jaehyun gives him a look.

“Jaemin?”

“Yes hyung?”

“Have you gotten a call from anyone yet?”

“Nope, it’s almost like you forgot to pay the phone bill or something.”

Jaehyun smirked before going back to his call, “no—no Kun hyung, I’m not yelling at you, I just want an explanation…”

Jaemin cleared his throat as he heard the phone ring, noticing that Mark’s number was on. He answered it quickly, eager to talk to anyone that wasn’t himself.

“Hello?”

“Oh! Hey, Jaemin, I thought I called Jaehyun hyung’s line sorry—“

“Please don’t hang up,” Jaemin cried quietly. “If I have to listen to myself think one more time I’m going to kill myself.”

Mark laughed on the other line, bright and annoying as it always was, “well Jaem! I don’t really have anything to tell you really, but I can think of someone who does.”

Jaemin perked up on the other side of the phone as there was silence, a few shuffles, and then a familiar voice on the line, “Hello?”

“Hey stud,” Jaemin grinned.

Jeno scoffed on the other line and he could almost imagine the roll of his eyes, “behave—Mark hyung is right here.”

“It’s not like he can hear me, you’re the one making a big deal,” Jaemin defended. “How are you? Everything okay?”

Jeno hummed, “yeah. It’s pretty boring right now. The suspected building is an orphanage—we really aren’t seeing anything but a whole bunch of kids.”

Jaemin narrowed his eyes, “you think they’re doing work in an orphanage?”

“I’m not sure, I guess that’s what we’re here to find out. But what better way to recruit than build a false sense of family with illicit business.”

“You’re the one to talk.”

Jeno chuckled, “I know. Anyway, the phone service here is suspicious and goes in and out every two hours. It might be really hard for me to call Yejinie later…do you think you could tell her?”

“Of course. She might cry.”

Jeno whined, “why would you tell me that? I’m going to feel awful all day.”

“I’m kidding. Odds are she’s going to be pretty disappointed but I honestly doubt that she’ll cry about it—not over the phone at least.”

“Just tell her I love her and that I’m sorry. I’ll call her as soon as I can.”

“I’ll pass it along.”

“Thank you. And Jaem?”

“Hm?”

“I love you too.”

Jaemin’s ears burned before he could laugh and react, “I love you. Don’t forget to call.”

“I won’t. I’m nearing the end of the hour, service is about to shut off again.”

“Okay, okay—I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

Jaemin hung up the phone at the same time Jaehyun and Johnny had, both with grave looks on their faces. Jaehyun was the first to exhale and rub his face harshly before pulling it back, staring at the phone in front of him.

“I can’t wait til this blows over,” Jaehyun groaned.

“It’s only two more days, we should be good,” Johnny cleared his throat. He looked over at Jaemin and cocked his head, “did Jeno tell you anything?”

“How did you know I was talking to Jeno?”

“Do you usually tell anyone else you love them?”

Jaemin snorted and recounted the quick information he was told from his boyfriend, not long before Jaehyun nodded.

“It’s the same thing Mark just told me,” Jaehyun ran his fingers through his hair before glancing over at Johnny. “Hyung, what if we got this all wrong?”

Johnny shook his head, “it’s only 6:30. We don’t have the slightest idea as to what they do at night, and if we got it all wrong then we keep looking. That’s all.”

Jaehyun stood up from his chair and stretched his neck, “I’m going to take a break. Take one if you all need one.”

Without another word, Jaehyun exited the room as Jaemin watched Johnny sink in his chair further.

“Hyung,” he started, carefully. “Do you think we have it all wrong?”

Johnny used his knuckles to rub the underside of his chin, scratching at the prickly hairs that were forming as he stared at the wall mindlessly, “I don’t have a clue, Jaemin.”

Jaemin’s jaw tensed before staring at Johnny for a few moments, not long before he decided to take a break and call Yejin now that he had the change.

The call went as he expected, she was delighted to hear from him and disappointed to find out she wouldn’t be hearing from Jeno tonight. He had asked how it was going between the two of them, both Jihyun and the baby and Yejin recounted that it was going great, and that it felt nice to have someone around the two days that neither he or Jeno would be around. They chatted very little, as Jaehyun reentered the meeting room before Jaemin did, prompting him to end the call a little earlier than he would’ve liked.

So then, the cycle continued. Jaemin continued to stare at his phone in silence as Johnny and Jaehyun returned to arguing with whomever was on the phone at that time. Jaemin couldn’t begin to think how people in office jobs could do this—quite honestly, it made him sick to his stomach. Regardless, noon came around quicker than he thought it would, and they had delivered Chinese food considering his brother was being stingy with the food in the fridge. Hour passed quicker after lunch as they were allowed another break, but Jaemin took advantage of this to take a nap, falling asleep on the meeting room couch before being woken up two hours later, graciously as Jaehyun had let him sleep in.

Jaemin peeked at his brother through his eyelashes, watching as he discussed quietly with Johnny over the plan time and time again, feeling sick to his stomach as he felt a wave of deja vu hit him like a truck. Jaemin, when he was younger and before Jisung was born, was often attached to his father and always sat around in his office despite his father lecturing him on secrecy. Granted, at the time, Jaemin didn’t know anything that his father did, nor did he care, he just remembered sitting on the couch playing on whatever handheld device he had while he argued with his right hand man, who was then Jihyun’s father.

Jaehyun now looked almost identical to their father in his earlier years. The same frown, the same hand on his chin whenever he was thinking…even the way he stood over the phone to speak into it was the same, as well as the same curses and swears their father used to say. Jaemin closed his eyes all the way and pretended, just for a moment, that he was the same 8 year old boy taking a nap on the dusty worn out couch, hiding from his eccentric mother only for a second’s worth of silence. It didn’t work, however, as he heard his landline ring, and he was rushed out of his daydream.

He noticed it was later now, closer to dinner time as he reached to answer the phone. The number was Mark’s again, and he answered swiftly only to hear him cut off just when Mark answered hello.

“That phone cut off is a bitch,” Jaemin groaned, still somewhat bleary eyes and cranky. “How are we supposed to call them if someone over there is cutting off the phone lines every two to three hours?!”

“That’s what we were talking about just now,” Jaehyun sighed. “I feel like we have the right place, they aren’t cutting phone lines for no reason, much less a good one, so the orphanage has to be a front.”

“Unless they’re trying to save money?” Johnny pressed.

Jaehyun shook his head, “an orphanage? Cutting off service? Hyung, the orphanage should be the first place that has phone service, delivery calls, emergency calls, calls from adoptions agencies. There’s no reason why those phones shouldn’t and wouldn’t be ringing off the wall.”

“That’s what you would think.”

Jaehyun blew a short breath out of his nose before rubbing his chin, “yeah. That is what I would think.”

Soon after, dinner time came along but neither party was hungry enough to eat—just from the sheer anxiety from Mark’s incomplete call. More so because it’s been two hours, and he has yet to call again. A clean-up operation rarely goes wrong, especially if Mark and Jeno are behind it, but Jaemin still can’t help to feel a sense of unnerving fear to him, one that threatens the lunch in his stomach.

Ten pm and Johnny had left to his room, Jaehyun and Jaemin being the only two in the rooms, both waiting for someone to say something. After a few minutes, Jaehyun turned to Jaemin and gave him an awkward smile.

“You can go to bed, Jaem. I’ll probably be up late anyway.”

“I think I’ll stay here for a little bit, if that’s okay,” Jaemin returned the smile before Yejin came to mind. “But, I’ll take a break real quick. If that’s okay.”

Jaehyun nodded, “of course.”

Jaemin got up from his seat, freezing once he heard Jaehyun clear his throat, “hey, Jaemin? You don’t have to but—“

“Yeah, I’ll ask about Jihyun noona.” Jaemin smiled widely, relief washing over Jaehyun as he gave him a genuine smile this time.

“Thank you.”

Jaemin left the room for a bit of privacy, opting for the smaller meeting room and taking a seat in one of the armchairs. After a single dial tone, Yejin answered almost immediately.

“Jaem?”

“Hi Angel,” Jaemin smiled, fatigue flowing out of his fingertips as his heart beats happily. “How are you?”

“I’m good. Jihyun unnie went to bed kind of early, about an hour ago.”

“Jaehyun hyung asked me to check on her, is she okay?”

“You won’t believe it but she’s given birth and the baby has taken it’s first steps.”

Jaemin laughed, “you’re lucky I’m not my brother, I wouldn’t have found it remotely funny.”

“I wouldn’t dream of saying any of this to your brother in the first place,” Yejin laughed. “How are you, baby? Is everything okay?”

“Everything is okay here. I slept for a while so time went a lot faster,” Jaemin reassured, “it really is the most boring fucking job in the world. It’s like a call center but for illegal things.”

Yejin giggled, “when we’re old we can go to a farm. You, me, and Jeno raising chickens.”

“That’s all I want, let’s buy a farm house right now.”

“God no, if I’m around a farm I’ll kill myself.”

Jaemin grinned and played with the hem of his shirt, taking the time to listen to Yejin’s soft sighs before she continued, “have you heard from Jeno?”

“I haven’t. I’m sorry, baby. When he called the line went flat and I wasn’t able to talk to him.”

“oh. okay.”

“I’m sure I’ll talk to him tomorrow morning. He’s leaving the site tonight for another one, hopefully this one has better reception and I won’t have to play messenger.”  

“Hopefully. It feels weird not having either of you here, it’s too quiet—more so now that Jihyun unnie went to sleep.”

“I told you you’d miss us when we’re not around.”

“How was I supposed to know I’d miss your annoying whining?”

“You’re supposed to miss me, every single waking moment of your life.”

“You’re psychotic,”

“Psychotically in love…with you,” Jaemin cooed, laughing wholeheartedly when he heard her gag over the phone.

“Just now I was beginning to think I believed Jihyun unnie when she said Jaehyun oppa gave you a run for your money in affection. But you really are disgusting,“

“Babe he really does give me a run for my money,” Jaemin grinned. “It’s actually disgusting.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,”

“Yeah right, over his dead body. Major tsundere—maybe even abusive.”

“Now you’re just being an asshole—“

Jaemin jumped at the sound of the door swinging open, his brother shoving his coat on as he gave Jaemin a frantic look. “We have to go. Now.”

“What—?”

“Now, Jaemin!”

Jaemin scurried on his feet, “Yejin? Baby? I’ve got to go, okay? I’ll call you in a little.”

“Jaemin? Is everything okay? What’s going on?”

“I uh,” he cleared his throat and ran to grab his jacket before shoving it on with his phone pressed between his cheek and shoulder. “I don’t know yet, angel. I’m sorry. I’ll call you.”

“O-okay. Be safe, I love you.”

“I love you, sweetheart. So much.” Jaemin blew a kiss into the receiver before hanging up, shoving the device in his pocket as he caught the gun Jaehyun tossed him midair. Johnny had already started the car outside as he was being led inside.

“Hyung, what the fuck is going on?” He asked after settling in his seat.

“Mark called. He told me Jeno was bringing the car around when they flipped the car over.”

Jaemin felt his heart fall to his feet and the bile rise in his throat, “what? What do you mean? Who’s they? Is Jeno okay? Is he still there?”

“We don’t know. I don’t know anything.” Jaehyun admitted quietly.

Jaemin clenched his jaw, “what do you mean you don’t fucking know anything?”

“He’s at the hospital, unresponsive.” Johnny added sourly. “Your brother didn’t want to tell you that bit.”

Jaemin’s breath is shallow as he glared at Johnny through the rearview mirror, somehow also begging him to tell him that this was some kind of sick fucking joke. Jaemin tried to regulate his breathing until he got to the hospital, Johnny dropping both Jaehyun and Jaemin at the doors.

Jaemin pushed through people, causing his older brother to apologize for his behavior despite Jaehyun calling out for him to wait for him. He reached the reception desk and demanded for Lee Jeno’s room, only to make the nurse behind the desk stare at him in confusion.

“Are you fucking deaf? Lee. Je. No. Do I have to spell it out—?”

“Jaemin, take a seat,” Jaehyun suddenly said behind him, taking his arm and gently nudging him to the side before Jaemin snatched his arm out of his hold.

“No.This is all your fault, this would’ve never happened if-“

“Excuse me,” said Jaehyun suddenly, giving the receptionist a smile before bowing. He took Jaemin’s arm again, this time much harder as he pulled him in an empty hallway.

“Is that how you speak to someone who is trying to help you?” Jaehyun seethed quietly, glaring at his youngest brother as his grip tightened around his arm.

Jaemin’s jaw was set as he glared at his brother in return, tears filling his eyes as he refused to reply.

“Speak.” He growled, “you had no problem speaking up when you were in front of the nurse and you will do the same now if you had something worthwhile to say.”

Jaemin remained silent as Jaehyun let go of his arm, “that’s what I fucking thought. I give you a lot of slack because you’re my brother Jaemin, but don’t disrespect me again. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, hyung.” Jaemin spat, his eyes now on the floor as he watched a tear fall onto his shoe.

“You will stay here, I will go speak to the receptionist. If you make another scene, so help me God, Jaemin I will fuck you up myself. Do I make myself clear?”

Jaemin nodded, falling against the wall as he slowly slid down while bystanders walk past him.

He felt as if he had been staring at the wall for hours until he heard a familiar voice next to him. He looked up to see Mark with a grim look on his face. Jaemin stood up and Mark didn’t waste any time in taking his hands and bowing deeply. He was saying something but even then he could pinpoint what the words were.

“…so sorry, Jaem. It should’ve been me, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be like that, hyung,” Jaemin felt like he was speaking underwater, too calm and too distant. “I’d feel just as awful if it were you.”

“He’s okay, though.” Mark continued. Jaemin must’ve not been speaking this entire time. “He’s concussed, real bad. A lot of broken bones, but he’ll be out of surgery soon. He’s alive, Jaem.”

“Where is he?” Jaemin barely got out, surprising Mark.

“In surgery still, it’ll be a few more hours, but we can go to the waiting room,” Mark wrapped an am around Jaemin’s shoulder. “Do you want to call Yejin?”

Jaemin shook his head, looking at the time on his wrist before looking back at Mark, “no. She should get some rest, I’ll tell her tomorrow.”

“Are you sure? She’s probably worried right now.”

“She won’t sleep if I tell her tonight, it’s best if we wait until morning.”

Mark grimaced before nodding, leading Jaemin into the waiting room where Jaehyun and Johnny sat on the opposite side. Jaemin made sure he didn’t sit down until he glared at his brother once more, listening to Mark give him his entire story. 

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[anomander-dragnipurake]

Evil New Year’s Resolution

Happy New Year Eve everyone!

~

One would think given how often Peach had been the target of various evil schemes in the past her castle would have better security. To be fair, those schemes had been from people who were alive but there were ways to keep the dead out and E. Gadd, the expert and inventor for many such ways, was an ally of hers so one would think she’d cover all her bases just in case. But whatever, King Boo wasn’t going to question his good fortune.

Finding Peach’s room took almost no time at all; it was extravagant as expected from a princess’ room and very pink. Not the only colour in the room but its presence far outweighed any other to the point of being borderline annoying. At least it was neat and tidy so King Boo wouldn’t have to wait around whilst surrounded by a mess. Waiting at all sucked but he couldn’t risk having his ploy discovered especially so early. So with a sigh, he settled down to wait in the corner.

He was in luck though; it wasn’t even quite half an hour before Peach came into the room. “Yes, good night to you too Toadsworth,” she was saying over her shoulder as she stepped in. There was a reply but it was inaudible from King Boo’s position in the far corner.

After closing the door, Peach turned and flounced further into the room, completely oblivious to King Boo’s presence for now. She went straight to her vanity dresser. Standing before it, she should be able to see his reflection in the mirror as he slid into position behind her. … She let out a gasp. Before she could scream or even start to turn around to face him, he pulled on his magic and the magic he’d stored in his crown to force his soul into her body.

 -

After a few brief moments of mostly nothing he was suddenly quite uncomfortable. The floor was too solid beneath him as gravity pushed him down onto it. Peach’s heart beat in her chest rhythmically as her lungs instinctively worked to pull in air and then expel. He could stop both processes if he wanted to and he kind of did because it was a rather unpleasant sensation after going so long without experiencing it that he’d forgotten it but inhabiting a rotting corpse would render his plan nigh on impossible so he’d just have to deal with it.

Peach was confused, she had no idea what happened; he could feel her emotions and thoughts brush against him, stronger now that he was paying attention to her. A spike of fear ran through her as he sat up and pulled her hands into to look at them as he flexed them. He’d forgotten what having hands was like too – not that he needed them when he could use magic for everything.

Hello princess. He thought at her with a chuckle.

She gasped again as her fear spiked higher immediately followed by righteous anger. ‘King Boo! What do you want? And… what’s happening?’

You’re my meat puppet now and you’re going to help me get some vengeance.

Oh, she was very frightened now and even if she wasn’t his true target it was still quite nice. ‘Mario will save me.’ Some of her fear melted away at her confidence in that statement. That just couldn’t do.

Yeah, sure because he’s done such a good job defeating me before.

‘Luigi then. He’ll beat you up like he always does you dumb giant marshmallow!’

King Boo growled; how dare she call him a marshmallow? Not this time because I have you. Meaning nothing could be done to him without hurting Peach which neither Mario or Luigi would do willingly.

‘Fuck you!’

King Boo ignored her this time. Instead, he stood up. It proved to be harder than it seemed; he had to contend with gravity and legs were far more unstable than just being able to float was. He took one step and… lost his precarious balance, landing on Peach’s face.

‘Ha! You can’t even walk, how pathetic.’

He growled both internally and externally. You can’t fly, that’s far more pathetic. Legs were an inferior way of getting around and he hated them already. But he needed to get used to using them again before the New Year’s Eve party tomorrow night. So, determined to ensure his plan would be perfect, he stood up again. All he needed was a little practice walking and all would be good.

New Year’s Eve

King Boo looked into the mirror, ensuring the hair dye hadn’t been bleached away by his magic yet and that the contacts were still in place. Neither was an exact match for Peach hair and eye colour but it was close enough that the dim lighting of the party should obscure it enough to make it hard to notice. Disguising his crown had proven to be far harder so instead he’d rendered it invisible.

‘Mario’s not going to be fooled by you,” Peach cut in, more angry now than afraid. ‘Neither will…’

He growled at her, drowning out the rest of that thought. It had only been a day and he was already sick and tired of her. He could block out her thoughts and emotions fairly well but whenever she wanted to say something to him it was a lot harder to not hear it.

But at least he looked the part of the princess, mostly anyway. Her one pair of non-heeled shoes didn’t match the fancy gown – which like her normal dresses was too pink for his tastes – but there was no way he was wearing heels of any height. They made the whole balancing thing even more of a chore. So, doing his best to ignore Peach and her angry nagging, he left her room and started for the main hall.

“Everything’s all set and ready to go,” Toadsworth said as she strode in. And truly everything was set and ready to go; snack and drink tables flanked the hall, balloons covered the ceiling, and the big clock with the ‘Happy New Year’ banner had been centered against the wall on one side of the room.

“Thank you,” he said with a forced smile, doing his best to imitate Peach’s speech pattern. “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year to you too Princess!” he replied seemingly totally fooled. Which frustrated Peach while making King Boo quite proud. Now all he had to do was fool Mario and Luigi, how hard could that be?

 -

As predicted Mario and Luigi were among the first guests to arrive – Gooigi for some reason wasn’t with them, basically sealing King Boo’s victory here because they were the only one who might be able to detect him. They both wore dresses; Mario red and Luigi green. Which was a surprise, he’d never seen them dress that way before, but honestly a pleasant one; it would make them look better once in their portraits.

The look Mario gave him as they exchanged New Year’s greetings and well wishes made him want to gag. But he was a decent actor when he really tried and showed no outward sign of disgust. Nor did he react to Peach’s anger and frantic futile attempts to wrest control back from him.

All he had to do was keep that act up for a handful of hours until midnight. Purely for the drama of it, he was going to make his move at the exact start of the new year.

***

Something had seemed off the moment Luigi had stepped into the main hall of Peach’s castle. What it might be, he couldn’t say to save his life but something wasn’t right. He’d been sure it was his imagination as there wasn’t anything visually off but as midnight crept ever closer he was more and more convinced that that wasn’t the case. But what was it?

If he didn’t know better, he’d say it was ghosts but last he’d checked the castle wasn’t haunted. If only he had Gooigi or Polterpup with him to know for sure though, but Polterpup didn’t do well at parties, especially fancy ones such this, and Gooigi was helping E. Gadd with an experiment; when asked they’d said they preferred to miss the party to continue with that.

“Peach is acting a bit off,” Mario said when Luigi finally broke down and asked him if he sensed anything strange.

“What do you mean?” Luigi asked because he hadn’t noticed that. To be fair, he didn’t know Peach nearly as well as Mario and wasn’t spending as much time with her tonight.

“I don’t know just… not quite right. She seems excited though, I think. Which is probably good, right?”

Hmmm… maybe she was finally thinking of making a move on Mario. It’d be about time if so, the way they danced around their feelings for each other had been going on for quite a while now and thus they needed to just get it over with already and talk about it. But then again maybe it had something to do with whatever Luigi was feeling. What could the correlation be though?

“But uh… why are you asking?” Mario continued. “Is something bothering you?”

“Uh… yeah. I don’t know what though just… something’s not right.” And he hated that he couldn’t articulate what.

“Well, last time you felt this way it was at the Last Resort Hotel and we brushed it off and that ended up being a mistake. So maybe it’s ghosts again?”

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“Or maybe you’re just anxious about the new year?”

“Yeah, maybe. … Probably.” He’d certainly gotten that way about things before.

“Well if anything happens, I got your back. I’m going to go chat with Peach again, see if I can’t figure out what’s up with her. See you later.” He gave Luigi a slight tap on the shoulder with his fist before heading off.

***

As was standard for fancy New Year parties, people paid more and more attention to the clock as midnight approached. What they didn’t know was that more and more boos crept into the hall too, eager to witness the grand finale or to assist King Boo if he needed them. He didn’t think he would though.

At a minute to midnight, he had everyone living facing the clock. He stood behind them on a raised dais, ostensibly ready to lead the verbal countdown to the new year. What he was really doing though was prepping the portrait. It wasn’t a large party but there were still a substantial number of people, sucking that many people up into a portrait all at once would be a bit difficult but it could be done if the portrait was big enough and the pull of his magic into it was strong enough.

The countdown started soon after he’d magically stretched the portrait to the right size. “Ten… nine…” he said in unison with everyone else as he channeled his magic through the portrait, opening it up to suck people in. “…eight… seven… six…” If anyone noticed the soft purple glow coming the portrait and turned around to investigate, his plan might be in trouble. “…five… four…” Intoxicated and engrossed in the clock, no one did though. “… three… two…”

On “one,” Mario, standing a short distance away, glanced back. The fondness in his expression immediately morphed into fear and surprise. All he had time for was a gasp as the clock struck midnight a second later and King Boo snapped the giant portrait down onto everyone, sucking them all up into it.

Maniacal boo laughter filled the hall instead of the cheer that normally would’ve gone up. Trapped in his body, Peach cried and flung anger and despair at King Boo which only made him laugh harder. Ah, victory at last was so, so sweet.

With a chuckle, he levitated the portrait off the floor leaned it against the wall. With loud cheers and laughter, the boos gathered closer to admire it alongside him.

As was the way with such portraits, everyone trapped within it faced outwards, the expression on their face the same as the moment the painting had lowered onto the. It was mostly Toads, though several friends of the Mushroom Kingdom were here too, including a handful of Yoshis. And there was Mario, the only one with a scared expression which was wonderful. … But as King Boo’s eyes continued to rove the canvas, it became more and more obvious that something, no someone was missing.

“Where’s Luigi?” one of the boos pipped up because well, Luigi was nowhere to be seen on the canvas.

***

Cowering behind a pillar, Luigi flinched at the sound of his name. Overwhelmed by the feeling of something being wrong, he’d snuck out to get some fresh air. He’d returned just in time to see the portrait slam down on everyone, trapping them all within it.

“I don’t know.” It was physically Peach’s voice but the anger and hatred in it wasn’t Peach. Luigi had a not so sneaking suspicion as to who might actually be speaking. “Find him.”

Luigi clapped a hand over his mouth to prevent a fearful whimper from escaping. … He had to do something though. Mario had been captured again, alongside everyone else at the party and… poor Peach was possessed. So, before his hiding spot could be discovered, he gathered up the skirts of his dress in one hand so he wouldn’t trip and hurried back to the rear exit. It led out to the castle courtyard so he’d still be trapped but it was better than staying in here with no ghost hunting equipment.

Once outside, he hid behind a bush and pulled out his phone. … E. Gadd picked up on the third ring.

“Happy New Year sonny,” he said, jovial as ever as if he hadn’t let King Boo escape again. Unless he didn’t know but how likely was that?

“King Boo’s here!” Luigi spoke in a frantic whisper in case any boos had ventured into the courtyard.

“Oh! Hold on a sec… good news Gooigi, Luigi found King Boo.” If Gooigi replied, their answer wasn’t audible over the phone. “What’s the situation?” E. Gadd asked, speaking directly into the phone once more.

“He’s trapped Mario and everyone else in a big portrait and uh… he’s possessing Peach.”

“Oh! Hmmm… sounds like quite the predicament. Possessing Peach is definitely going to make dealing with him a bit harder, huh?”

“Yes but… why didn’t you tell me he’d escaped again?” Luigi had a right to know that kind of thing, didn’t he? He was King Boo’s primary target after all.

“Because I figured you’d probably be mad at me. Also, I thought with Gooigi’s help I could find and recapture him before he made another move. We’ve been looking all over for him.” Ah, so that was the secret ‘experiment’ they’d been working on. “Oh well, at least we found him. I’ll be over with Gooigi and the portable lab in no time. Oh also, I made some more improvements to the Poltergust, this’ll be the perfect opportunity to test them. Hang tight until I get there.” With that, he hung up, leaving Luigi on his own.

Assuming he was at his lab, it would take him about an hour to drive all the way down here. Meaning Luigi had to survive being hunted by a hoard of boos and King Boo himself for a whole hour before he could fight back. … He should’ve at least brought the Poltergust’s flashlight, huh? Too late now though, he’d just have to do his best and hope E. Gadd and Gooigi arrived before it was too late. … What an awful way to start the New Year. On the bright side, assuming they all got out of this, things could only get better from here, right?

[broken-clover]

AU-gust Day 2- College

Haven’t used this AU in a while! It’d Daryl/Venom, so obviously I made it mostly for @mama-nana, I hope it turned out okay! It’s a scenario we’ve talked about a bit before, I just loved the idea of Venom being the mysterious library man, but he’s actually just a huge nerd who manages to look cool.

‘Mastering the Mental Game of Billiards.’ ‘The Celluloid Closet.’ ‘The Last course: The Desserts of Gramercy Tavern.’ ‘Emotional Intelligence.’

Eclectic tastes, but that was exactly what endeared Daryl so much. He never caught the contents from so far away, but he was always close enough to catch the various covers as the object of his attention carefully pulled them off the shelf to peek inside. He didn’t especially care, anyway. He was always too transfixed at the way sapphire-blue eyes scanned the pages with keen interest, features gradually shifting until lips turned into a content smile or dissatisfied frown, and the man moved to either take the book to the checkout desk or to place it in a return bin.

Venom. That’s what they’d said his name was. The mysterious library man who came in nearly every day to skim the shelves in near-silence. Plenty of people used the library, of course, but most of the people who came so often spent time studying at the computers or taking a nap in the corner, rather than traipsing the bookshelves like a longing Victorian housewife.

It was that peculiarity that had drawn his attention. There were rumors around Venom, but he couldn’t say for sure which had any merit to them. A few aspiring frat boys had allegedly attempted asking him out, but had been rejected. Daryl was half-convinced those stories had been cooked up by cowards too hesitant to interrupt him in the first place.

At least the concept reassured him slightly, while his stomach did flip-flops inside him. Daryl styled himself as being pretty unflappable, but something about actually making himself step forward and attempting to introduce himself was...not quite frightening, but somewhere close.

“Daryl?”

It took all his self-control to not jump five feet in the air and scream in shock. He’d been so distracted by his own thoughts, he hadn’t noticed the footsteps approaching until a hand had put itself on his shoulder. The brunt of his surprise was channeled into biting down on his lip as he turned around, only to be greeted with a too-friendly face.

Just his luck, he had to worry about Ky Kiske, student council leader with the world’s biggest stick up his butt and a habit of pushing himself into other people’s business. The last thing he wanted or needed at that very moment.

“Oh dear. I’m sorry about that.” The man smiled, and stifled a chuckle behind his hand. “Lost in thought? What were you staring at…”

“I-I just happened to be- I was only looking for-”

“Ah.” Ky glanced over his shoulder, and spotted Venom nose-deep in a pastry book. “Engaging in a bit of spying, are we, Daryl?” His voice dropped into a hush.

And of course Ky just had to make this his problem. “I’m not spying, Kiske.”

“Right. You’re just staring very intently at the baking shelf.” Ky looked at him with a thinly-veiled expression of disgust. “You do know someone your age probably shouldn’t be spying on freshmen?”

“He’s a sophomore, actua-” Daryl cut himself off, realizing how he sounded. “That’s not what I mean. He’s twenty-five. And I’m not that old!”

“I see…” It was hard to tell if Ky really believed him, but he dropped the accusatory tone. “I don’t often see students spending time in the library on a friday afternoon. How long have you been following him?”

This was utterly humiliating. Daryl covered his face with a hand, trying not to grow flustered. “I just came to find some books of my own, honestly. He just happened to be there when I came in.”

The other man shifted his weight back and forth as he thought. “You know, it would be easiest just to talk to him. Worst thing that happens is a simple ‘no,’ no?”

He felt his frustration flaring up.“With all due respect,” Daryl said, not at all respectfully, “perhaps you should worry more about what your son is up to, than what I’m doing?”

Ky blinked for a moment in shock, before turning the color of a ripe peach. “W-wh- are you telling me Sin is getting into trouble again?”

“Possibly. But I’m not his father, so it isn’t my business to snoop.”

That finally seemed to get to him. “Alright, alright, I’ll leave you be...maybe I should call and see if Sin is up to anything…”

Daryl let out a relieved breath as Ky turned and left, mumbling to himself about Sin’s homework. As soon as he tried to turn around, he found his heart jumping out of his chest for the second time in ten minutes as he found Venom staring back at him from only a few feet away.

“That was one heck of a thrashing. I didn’t know anyone could get away with talking to Mr. Kiske like that!”

He struggled to process everything at once. All the chatter must have gotten Venom’s attention, but he didn’t seem furious with him? Actually, his voice sounded impressed? As he glanced around, Daryl noticed the man holding a familiar wad of leather. “Wait, is that my-”

Venom offered it to him. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I just saw your wallet fall out of your back pocket and wanted to make sure you didn’t leave without it. Trust me, it’s a nightmare trying to get another ID card from the help desk.”

“That’s- that’s very kind of you, I appreciate it.” Daryl tucked it back into place, still reeling from the fact that holy shit, Venom of all people was talking to him. “I’m Daryl.”

“I know. I saw your ID. Unless there’s someone else on campus who wears a cravat?” Venom gave a wry little smile, and Daryl’s heart immediately melted. Yep. He was an absolute goner. “I’m Venom. I haven’t seen you in any of my classes, so I’m guessing you’re not a culinary major?”

“Uh, criminal justice. I do a little baking in my spare time, though. Mostly just pudding and pastries.”

Venom immediately lit up. “Pastries? Those are my specialty. I’ve been trying out a new flan recipe, too! I love it when they let me make pudding, it’s difficult at times, but really rewarding.”

Gorgeous, mysterious, and he liked pudding? Daryl was half-convinced he was dreaming. The other man pulled out his cell phone. “Is it okay if I get your phone number? I suppose I could use a ~pudding connoisseur~ when I finish the flan.”

Code red, code red, earth to Daryl. He had no idea how he managed to remain at all composed, when mentally he was practically having a full-on freakout as his internal voice screamed in nonstop fright. “Sure! I’d love to!”

In his panic, he almost managed to forget his own phone number. When he handed it back over, Venom tucked a thread of white hair behind his ear and smiled again. “Alright, got it. It probably won’t be done until tomorrow, but I can offer some pictures of my roommate’s cat if that helps?”

Daryl grinned. “I love cats!”

Venom chuckled and turned away. “I guess I should head home and get to work, I’ve been here a while. I’ll text you later! It was nice to meet you, Daryl!”

‘AAAAAAAAAAAAA-’

++++++

‘-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA’

As soon as he rounded the bookshelf and vanished out of sight, Venom pressed himself against the wall and let out a shaky breath. Good lord, he had no idea how he had managed to stay so calm. Had he looked like an idiot? Had immediately talking about pastries made it weird? Arghh!!

It had taken all his willpower plus a bit of reckless stupidity to manage walking over to him in the first place. Venom didn’t know anything about the guy, aside from seeing him a few times across campus, but man was he cute. It seemed like a pipe dream that he’d even be able to start a conversation with Daryl without coming across as an absolute loser.

Venom pulled out his phone again. He’d manage to snap a photo right before he left. It was a little blurry, but Daryl looked just as pretty, with an adorable smile on his face.

Feeling the heat rise to his face, he rifled through the rest of his photo gallery, until he found a photo of an extremely fluffy tabby cat asleep on the couch that he’d taken a few days ago.

“Just like I promised!” He wrote and sent to Daryl’s phone number with the picture, immediately second-guessing if it had come across as too silly or cheesy. Venom buried his face in his knees, only to be interrupted by his phone buzzing.

“Adorable!”

Yep. That was it. Venom was a goner.

[imagine-what-would-happen]

A Little Bit of Grey (Part 5 Kylo Ren Fanfiction)

Hey guys! Here is part 5! I try to update both stories every day but its been sort of a difficult time lately, I’m sorry for not updating yesterday! But I’ll be working to post a new chapter for “Since The Beginning” tonight! I hope you all enjoy! Again don’t hesitate to ask to be tagged in future instalments! Hope you all enjoy!

Warning: Mentions of blood and needles. Condescending tone against self injury. Statements of wanting to self harm/ self harming. Swearing.

Words: 1.9k+

Link to Part 4

Link to Part 6

Link to Masterlist

Tags: @dark-night-sky-99​

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kylo pulled against his restraints, he didn’t understand what was happening, he didn’t know how he got here. All he knew was that he was tied up to a cold medical bed aboard the resistance’s ship; this was all he was focusing on at the moment; anything else was just too much at the moment.

“Oh sweetie, you’re just going to hurt yourself. You’re too pretty to get yourself hurt” Neira stated in a condescending tone. She walked around the room toying with the medical supplies. It was strange seeing a supposed member of the resistance being so cold. Usually, all of them that he encountered were so warm and bright... being on the light side and all. If Kylo had assessed her based on her personality he would have pinned her for a member of the First Order.

The skin around his wrists was starting to tear, blood pushing through the irritated area. Neira was playing around with a needle, tapping it to take out the air bubbles. “So what are you planning on doing with me? Huh? You the one person on the light side who can torture me for information? Or does the resistance still not work that way?” He questioned, his eyes squeezed shut through the pain.

Neira scoffed, “Oh sweetie if you want me to hurt you, all you have to do is ask.” She smirked and winked at Kylo. He felt disgusted. She looked like Andy, sounded like her, but... it definitely wasn’t her. This wasn’t the girl he was going to leave everything else he knew for.

“Lets just cut to the chase, shall we?” She dropped the needle onto the table and walked back over to the tied up Kylo. “You want to know what happened, how I know you, where your precious girlfriend is, although... can you really call her your girlfriend?” She shrugged sarcastically. “Eh, doesn’t really matter I guess.”

Kylo looked on at the woman before him, silent, sweat dripping down him. He did want to know what happened. His head was killing him with the questions racing through his mind, he needed to know.

“Alright well..” Neira pulled a rolling stool over. “I came aboard the Supremacy around - hmmm.. I would say a few weeks after Cammie’s training began. Yeah, it was about then.” She looked over to an obviously confused Kylo. “Oh right, the time that you knew her for... she didn’t have a name... didn’t know where she was from right?” She sighed, “I’ll get to that. All you have to know is that her real name is Cammila... everyone here knows her by Cammie. But anyway, I came aboard... You know you guys really should up your security, that was way too easy.” She laughed softly as if recalling an old memory but then rolled her eyes.

“I got a few of my friends to take Cammie and I took her place, got the hang of everything fairly quickly, you guys really do have fairly basic training. No wonder your guys suck at shooting.”

Kylo was more lost than ever, looking down. If Neira... If she came aboard the Supremacy only a few weeks into Andy- Cam- ugh... the girl... if Neira came aboard the ship then... everything on the Silencer was a lie. It meant nothing, and he looked like an idiot. No wonder it had seemed so easy with her, it wasn’t real. He felt a pit in his stomach growing, he felt he would fall into it, drown in its darkness as he did so long ago when joining the First Order.

“Why doesn’t she remember her name...” Kylo whispered, trying to hold the tear that would throw him over the edge, he wanted to push his wrist more into the restrains, that pain was a hundred times better than the realization coming over him.

“It’s a new idea the resistance came up with... Cammie was one of us, she volunteered for the experiment, she said she could do it. It was fairly easy finding something that would erase her memory completely.” Neira looked down at her hands, seemingly completely unfazed by the topic at hand.

“Is she not your sister?” Kylo spat, “Don’t you care that she doesn’t know who you are? Don’t you care what you put her through?” He studied her, how could two people, two siblings be so completely different. He thought back to his mother and uncle. Sure they were different, but not to this extent.

“Of course I care,” Neira met his eyes and stood, showing her dominance. “But, its the resistance that matters, everyone’s lives are at stake here and she's the one who volunteered to do it.” Neira turned around. “I tried to talk her out of it.” She whispered, putting a hand to her arm, seeming to try to comfort herself, then in an instant turned around, “You think you know her but you don’t! You don’t know anything about her. You don’t know what makes her scream awake at night. You don’t know what her dreams are... You. Do. Not. Know. Her.” She spat every word.

“The sister you knew is gone.” Kylo retorted, “You made sure of that”. He watched her, and suddenly realized how idiotic he was. In all his confusion and storm of emotions, he hadn’t even attempted at using the Force. He had tried severely to remind himself not to use the Force on... on the girl. The fact that Neira looks exactly like her must have kept his instincts in line. The one time he should have lost control. He groaned internally. Time to show what he was made of.

“Untie me.” He whispered the words while looking directly at Neira.

“What was that..?” She asked stepping closer.

“You will untie me,” Kylo demanded in a breathy but louder voice.

Neira sighed and rolled her eyes, obviously tired of Kylo. “Kylo Ren. You may have abilities in the Force, but one thing you forget is that those mind games... they work on the weak of mind.” She touched his cheek almost sweetly. “I am so much more than that.” She pulled away and walked towards the door, hips swaying. “Goodnight you discount Sith” She called back, and then she was gone.

Kylo laid his head back and grit his teeth. What were they planning on doing with him? He tried to stretch out the cramp he was getting in his neck. What were they doing to do to the girl? He refused to call her by her previous resistance name, that wasn’t her anymore. He wasn’t even sure if it was the truth, although it would make sense why they would erase her memory. If they knew about Kylo having Force abilities, which most everyone did, he could easily read her mind and know why she was there... they would have never gotten close.

The way he felt about the girl... was it still real even if her memory was wiped, completely becoming someone else...? Would he still have fallen for the person she was before? He wasn’t even sure at this point if she had ever showed any affection for him. He felt so empty, nothing mattered now... He just wanted to get back to the Supremacy and blow up these good for nothing criminals. He bit his lip fiercely, drawing blood, the same as the first time he saw the girl.

The way she moved that day... the rage and pure force. She wasn’t afraid to do what needed to be done... except for when it came to killing someone. Was that a trait she had in her old self? He sighed and closed his eyes. It didn’t matter anymore.

The sound of something getting knocked over is what woke up the commander. He squinted, reaching to rub his eyes but then wincing at the still irritated wound and dried blood around his wrists. Fuck. He was here. It wasn’t a dream. He groaned, then letting out a breath of air he tried to look around again.

Through the bright white lights he saw a young girl at the medical station across from him. “Hold on.. I’ll be with you in just a second.” She mumbled and put some more instruments onto a trolley and began rolling it over closer to him. “Good morning Mister Ren.” She said quietly but professionally.

Kylo was quite confused. Why was such a young girl using medical equipment and why the hell did she call him mister Ren? “Uh.. Hi.” He said softly. “Who are you?” He questioned hesitantly.

“I’m your care taker...” She sat down on the rolling stool and searched for the items she needed.

“Okay, listen kid. I know you wanna play doctor but I’m actually hurt, you could cause more damage than good.” Kylo stated, he didn’t have time for this.

The girl wasn’t fazed by what he said. “First off, you can call me Doctor M. Second off, I’m the one who patches up the guys who you shoot at, and I’m the reason they get back on their feet.” She looked back up at an uneasy Kylo. “So what, kids on your planet can levitate rocks and mind control people but can’t put a bandaid on a cut? Get over yourself.”

Kylo seriously needed a reality check about the resistance. What happened to all the warm happy people? Everyone here was angry, sassy, and cold.

The girl began disinfecting Kylo’s wounds, and he couldn’t help wincing. He was so used to being spoiled by the medical facilities aboard the Supremacy, they would numb any wound before doing anything else to it. The girl chuckled softly, “You guys really are just stories aren’t you?” She looked up at him and then back down at her work.

“What do you mean?” He raised a brow.

“I mean, you guys fight with friggan lightsabers and blasters, constantly surviving battle after battle with each other and yet you’re in pain from a few cuts and bruises. I just find it funny.” She smiled. “It’s good to know the bad guys are human too.”

Kylo sighed, “You know we’re really not that bad.” The girl looked up at him with an are you kidding me look, “Okay...” He nodded at her. “I’m not that bad... hows that?” He tried.

“Well, the fact that the resistance hasn’t killed you yet, and the fact that you haven’t killed me yet would probably seem to make that statement true.” She stated matter of factly.

Kylo was more than taken aback. “Why would I kill you?” He looked down at the child.

“Maybe you’re having a bad day? Maybe you’re having a tantrum?” She shrugged. “You guys don’t ever have a real reason to kill anyone do you?” She looked up at him accusingly.

“Wha- yes we do.” He scoffed.

“Then how is it that the resistance doesn’t do that unless its in an actual battle and yet they’re still here?” The girl starred at him, he didn’t have a response. She was actually on to something, though he wouldn’t acknowledge it. “Thats what I thought” She sighed and stood up, pulling her trolley back to the station to dispose of everything.

She took a breath, leaning onto the counter with her hands stabilizing herself, “If everyone just sat down and talked everything out, maybe this war would be over even quicker than it started...” I don’t get what is so hard about it?

Kylo let out a soft sight, often enough he thought about the same. Things were far too complicated in this life.