#anyway peeps. maybe I have to take a break from spending too much time on my screen | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mythicalmisery · 7 months ago

Text

Chapter 2: C2

October 16th

11:35 A.M.

Manchester Royal Hospital

Soap jerked his head up as the thick stack of medical files plopped down beside his head.

“What is up with you, MacTavish? You’ve been walking around here like a zombie all day,” Farah questioned. Soap was usually annoyed with her mother-hen personality, but he knew it came from a good place. Despite her good intentions, he couldn’t exactly tell her that he was running on maybe three hours of sleep because of the constant state of anxiety he had been in all weekend.

“Oh yeah, I’m fine. Just had a man bleeding out on my table this weekend from a bullet wound that was probably achieved by some illegal activity, more or less, which now makes me an accessory,” is what he really wanted to say, but a simple “just tired is all” had to suffice. He could tell she wasn’t satisfied with his obvious avoidance, but he was thankful she decided to concede anyway and left him to wallow on his own again.

Five days.

It had been nearly five days since the incident, and not a peep from Gaz. ‘I’ll call and explain everything,’ my ass. Soap knew bombarding Gaz with fifty texts or phone calls wouldn’t do anything; if he wanted to contact him, he would. He just wanted to know if his best friend was safe. Bullet wounds don’t usually transpire from safe activities.

Soap just couldn’t understand the younger man sometimes. He was smart and charming, always in the top 5 of his computer science classes. He came from a good family- his parents were environmental engineers who traveled around Africa helping build new water filter systems, practically saints. Gaz would spend holidays and breaks back in Glasgow with the MacTavish’s since his parents were usually abroad. He was basically family, as much as Price was, at least.

His only faults were his affinity for unsavory company and weird craft beers. Soap tried to set clear boundaries during Uni, not hanging out with Gaz if his other friends were going to be with him. He eventually just stopped lecturing Gaz, sick of the other man accusing Soap of not trusting him and making him the bad guy for worrying about his friend. Well, look where that blind trust got you now.

— — —

“Oh come on, he’s basically stripping you with his eyes,” Soap snickered.

“Fuck off, Soap,” Farah quipped back before taking another bite of her salad.

Soap just huffed a laugh as Farah subtly glanced at the American sales rep across the hall, staring back at her, not so subtly. He hadn’t taken his eyes off her during the whole time some nurse rattled his ears off, thinking she still had his full attention.

Alex Keller. He worked for the company where the hospital got all of its prosthetics, which meant they saw him often. During his many visits, Soap found pure joy in the American’s attempts at flirting with Farah. He couldn’t blame the man. If Soap was straight, he would also beg and plead with Farah for one chance. He didn’t know whether to feel pity or admire the man for his efforts. He was like a damn kicked puppy that wouldn’t give up. Anyone who kept at it even after the Farah Karim chewed you out in front of the whole hospital was a worthy contender in his eyes.

“I don’t know why you have to torture him like that, you clearly like him,” Soap teased. It was like dealing with teenagers watching the two of them dance around each other.

“I do not. You expect me to take him seriously with that mustache?” Farah responded.

Soap took another bite from his lunch before mumbling back, “Don’t let Price hear you say that.”

Just as he was about to deliver another snarky comment, his gaze darted past Farah’s shoulder, attention snagged by the unmistakable sight of a navy blue Nike wind jacket he was all too familiar with. The owner’s identity was obscured by the hood and a white ball cap, yet he knew exactly who it was. Soap put his food on the desk counter before abruptly standing up.

“Give me a moment,” he declared, his tone brisk. “I’ll be right back. Also, throw the poor man a bone before I show the cowboy a good time instead.” Soap received a perfectly manicured middle finger in response as he walked away.

It took all of his willpower to remain calm as he rounded the corner of his desk, grabbing the man by his arm before he could even get a word out. Soap pulled him into the nearest empty on-call room before locking the door and rounding on Gaz.

“What the hell, Kyle! You said you would explain everything and then you just go radio silent on me for days?” His voice rang out as much as he dared, straining against the confines of the small space. The room was far from soundproof, despite what all the horny interns might assume.

Gaz wore that same pained expression from that very night, like a scolded child. “I know, Soap, I know,” he breathed out. He took Soap’s silence as his invitation to continue explaining himself.

“Look I tried to get away long enough to call or even meet you in person, but we were practically in lockdown after that night,” Gaz explained, his words weighted with what Soap could tell was true remorse.

“And what the hell happened that night, Gaz? Who were those men, and what were you doing with them that led to a gunshot wound?” Soap’s voice cracked with anger, demanding answers. All pretense of staying calm now out the window.

“Listen, Soap, for your own safety, you don’t want to know too much. I’m try-”

“My safety? Are you fuckin’ kidding me?!” Soap erupted, his patience finally snapping. “You bring those bastards into my home and then try and say you’re worried about my own safety?” he scoffed.

Gaz grimaced before reluctantly continuing, “I work for them, okay…”

“And what exactly does that entail, Gaz?” Soap’s tone was sharp, his frustration palpable.

“Let’s just say it’s a…business that operates in a bit of a legal gray area,” Gaz admitted.

“Fuuuuck Gaz,” he huffed out while running his hands down his face in exasperation.

“Hey, don’t act like you’re above it all, mate,” Gaz retorted defensively. “Not everyone can be a high-and-mighty doctor.”

“You have a degree, for God’s sake! Don’t pull that shit with me,” Soap shot back.

Gaz slumped back against the wall, sinking to the floor defeatedly. Soap sighed and moved to sit beside him, the tension still thick in the air. They both knew that yelling wasn’t going to get them anywhere. Soap just laid his elbows onto his knees, resting his head on the wall behind them.

“What exactly is it that you do for them?” Soap’s voice was calmer now, though still laced with concern.

Gaz hesitated before answering, “I guess you could say I’m the computer guy. I handle security, accounts, pretty much anything that needs to be done electronically.”

Soap absorbed his best friend’s words, maintaining his composure. “And just how illegal are these activities?”

“Very,” his voice tinged with resignation.

“Is it worth it?” Soap asked.

“To me, yes,” he replied.

“And that’s what concerns me, Gaz. How do you honestly expect me to react when all your actions are going to get you thrown in a cell someday?”

Soap turned his head slowly to find Gaz already staring back at him. “You know I can take care of myself, Soap. I was doing it long before we met. I’ll always appreciate everything you and your family have done for me. But you just need to let me take some responsibility for my actions instead of protecting me all the time. I know what I’m doing is illegal, but it’s my choice. I know my limits and I have contingency plans in place. I may be a delinquent, but I’m not a stupid one.”

Soap lets a small laugh escape as he grapples with Gaz’s words. “You promise you’ll let me know if you ever need help, right?”

“Of course, Soap.”

“I don’t really want to know all the details for plausible deniability but.. are you frequently in situations where you’re getting shot at?”

Gaz laughed lightly at Soap’s words. “No, not typically. I’m the lame computer nerd in the movies that stays back on the intercoms while the spy gets shot at.”

“Well, I guess that makes me feel a little better,” Soap replied, a hint of relief in his voice. “You ever get shot, I’ll raise you from the dead and strangle you myself, Garrick.”

“I know.” Soap could sense the grin on his friend’s face without even having to look.

“Wanker,” Soap teased.

“Shit bag,” Gaz shot back.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, but Soap just couldn't shake the burning question at the back of his mind.

“Is the guy still alive?” he asks plainly.

“Yes. And thank you for that,” Gaz replied sincerely.

“Why exactly did he get shot?” Soap pressed.

“So…about that,” Gaz began tentatively, rising to his feet.

Soap looked up at him, confusion etched on his face. That feeling of impending doom once again brewing in his stomach. “What?”

Gaz scratched the back of his head before forcing out the words. “So, I did come here to make sure you were okay after everything and give you an explanation. Buuut… I also came here to tell you that my boss would like to have a word with you, about that night.”

Soap looked up at the man with a deadpan stare. “You’re fuckin’ joking with me, right?”

Gaz simply smiled in response.

“I am not voluntarily meeting up with a criminal who would more than likely kill me!” Soap argued back.

“He won’t kill you, Soap. He knows you’re my friend. He just wants to make sure you won’t go to the police himself,” Gaz reasoned, attempting to calm Soap’s fears albeit futile.

“If… I agreed to meet him, that’s it. I’m done. I don’t want anything to do with any of your so-called friends,” Soap declared, extending his hand toward Gaz.

Gaz nodded in agreement as he helped Soap up from the ground. “Deal.”

Their agreement was suddenly interrupted by the buzzing of Gaz’s phone, echoing through the room. “I gotta go, Soap. Sorry,” Gaz said hurriedly, heading towards the door.

“Wait! When and where do I meet your boss?” Soap called after him, Gaz already halfway out the door.

“Uh, just swing by the Oak Tree Lounge when you get off your shift. Ask for Roach at the door,” he tosses over his shoulder before leaving the room entirely.

“Wai—” Soap sighs as the click of the door closing leaves him alone and with even more questions.

Why the fuck am I meeting Gaz’s boss at a nightclub?

— — —

Soap decides to park his motorcycle a block over from the club. The heavy rain throughout the day caused him to drive more cautiously than usual. Definitely the weather and not the sinking dread in his stomach causing him to prolong the drive. Gaz wouldn’t send you to your death can only be repeated so many times in an attempt to calm down.

Soap despised this feeling. He wasn’t an anxious person. He was an adrenaline junky through and through. His idea of a good time included extreme snowboarding, cave diving, and mountain biking. He’s even jumped off a plane, twice! A meeting with one man shouldn’t have his heart racing like this. Maybe it’s different when it wasn’t your choice to be put into dangerous circumstances. Either way, it was truly pissing him off. “Grow some balls, MacTavish,” he mutters to himself as he dismounts his bike.

Stepping in front of the club’s entrance, he ignores all the protests from people in line accusing him of cutting. If only they knew just how little he wanted to be there. The bouncer, engrossed in his clipboard, doesn’t bother to even glance upwards as Soap approaches. “Back of the line, mate,” he grunts dismissively.

Soap didn’t have time for this. “I’m here to see…” Fuck. What the hell was that guy’s name? Something weird, like a bug. Moth? No… Gaz only said it like twice. Something with an R, maybe….

“Roach! I’m here to see Roach,” he blurts out. The bouncer finally lifts his gaze, eyeing Soap up and down with a scowl. “Wait here,” is all he gets before the ray of sunshine has someone else take over his esteemed clipboard duties before disappearing into the club.

Time seemed to stretch on endlessly as Soap waited, tension coiling in his stomach. Was it a bad time? Do you call ahead for criminal meetings? Maybe the police got to them. They all died at the hands of a rival gang or something. Would Gaz have been with them? Soap’s spiraling was interrupted by a whistle directed his way. He looks up as the bouncer gestures for Soap to follow him inside. Soap squares his shoulders, attempting to regain his composure before trailing behind the man. Alright, easy parts over.

They walk silently through the main hallway before he’s ushered into a small side door marked with an EMPLOYEES ONLY sign. Soap could hear the distant thump of music and people echoing from the main part of the club as they walked. He turned the corner into another hallway, where they found Roach lighting a cigarette. He flicks his lighter shut, acknowledging the bouncer behind Soap with a nod, signaling for him to leave them alone.

He casually looks Soap over before ascending a pair of worn wooden stairs without a word. Soap isn’t entirely sure what to do but he thinks following the man is a safe bet. He can feel the vibrations of the pounding music through the creaky floorboards underneath his feet.

At the top of the landing, Roach stood pointing towards the door at the end of the hall. “Just go in?” Soap asks. The taller man takes a drag from his cigarette before grabbing Soap’s shoulders and gently pushing him towards the door. “Good luck,” is all he says before retreating down the stairwell. Thanks Roach, that’s fucking reassuring.

Soap hesitates at the threshold of the door, uncertain of the appropriate course of action. Should I knock? Roach's ambiguous instructions left him at a loss. After two tentative raps of his knuckles yielded no response, Soap decides to risk it and turns the doorknob.

The door swung open to reveal a fairly large and empty office space. A large desk occupied the center of the room, flanked by full bookshelves lining the back wall. Chairs and couches were arranged for guests, presenting a typical office setup. However, what caught Soap’s attention was the nearly floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the lively club below. It must have been soundproof due to the muffled music barely permeating the thick glass. The occasional strobe light passed over his face as he watched oblivious people dance below him. Mesmerized by the sight, Soap hadn’t noticed the presence of another in the doorway, their gaze fixed upon him.

“They can’t see you.”

Soap jumped at the deep voice cutting through the silence. He nearly got whiplash at how fast he turned his head to see the person who spoke.

Standing in the doorway was a man, tall and imposing as hell. His outfit was entirely black, and doing nothing to hide just how fit he truly was, while letting no skin besides his face show. Even that was partially obscured with a black gaiter pulled up to the bridge of his nose. Short blond hair framed his angular features, amber brown eyes bore into Soap with an intensity that sent shivers down his spine. It was the same gaze that had haunted him since that night in his kitchen.

“What?” Soap manages to croak, his mouth dry as desert sand.

The man pushed off the doorframe with a casual grace unnerving for someone his size, strolling leisurely over to his desk.“The glass, it’s one way. The people down there can’t see us,” he simply stated.

Soap’s subconscious was attempting to twist the simple statement into a thinly disguised threat: “No one can see you if I decide to do something to you.” His stomach churned at the thought that his apprehension might not be as irrational as he had hoped.

He simply hummed in response, taking one last look at his once would-be potential witnesses below, and shuffled towards the velvet chair placed directly across the desk. As he settled into the seat, Soap couldn’t help but cast a quick glance at the man’s stomach where the bullet wound had been. Perhaps it was the eight years of medical training ingrained in him, but the man’s injury somehow made its way to the top of his list of concerns at the moment.

“How’s the injury?” Soap rushed out before the man could speak first. The question seemed to catch the man off guard, freezing him momentarily as he slightly lifted a brow at the question. “Fine,” he replied in that gruff voice.

Soap couldn’t help but bristle at the man’s tone. “You know, when someone saves your life, it’s pretty standard practice to say a bloody thank you.” Yep. That one earned both brows to raise. Price did always say his mouth was gonna get him in trouble someday.

Soap tenses for a moment, his eyes analyzing the man’s seemingly relaxed posture and expression- or the amount of expression that was visible behind the mask. Maybe he was pushing his luck a little too far this time.

“Thank you, doctor,” is all he gets in that indifferent, monotone voice. Whatever, he’d take what he could get from this oversized prick.

Soap leaned back in his seat, feeling a bit more at ease now that he wasn’t immediately met with a bullet to the head for a bit of sass. Give the man an inch…

“Listen mate, what I did was a favor for Gaz. I already told the Roach guy I wasn’t going to the police, so I feel like this ‘meeting’ is a little redundant. I’m not stupid enough to blackmail anyone, so can we just cut all ties here? We never met each other, simple as that. Hell, I don’t even know what you really look like.”

The other man didn’t say anything as he took in the Scot’s words. It seemed like a fair enough agreement, so Soap was more than confused when the other reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a thick unassuming manila folder. Plopping it down on the desk in front of Soap as some sort of response.

The man nodded at Soap, gesturing for him to take a look at the contents of the folder before speaking. It felt as though pure ice filled Soap’s veins as he flipped through the thick folder. Page after page displaying his entire life, laid out in excruciating detail. Transcripts, lease agreements, rugby stats, school photos, parking tickets, bank statements, his fucking Tesco Clubcard. His whole life was packed away into a single folder. He wouldn’t be surprised if his favorite color was listed somewhere in there as well.

The utter violation of his privacy was overwhelming until he flipped a page and was met with those dark blue eyes gifted by their father. Splayed over his lap were his sister’s photos, news articles about her equestrian team, essays for her classes, and even her dentist’s business card. The anxiety and nerves from before were instantly snuffed out by raw anger, his body was tense and his voice barely holding onto the guise of control.

“Is this a threat?” was all he could grit out, his knuckles now white from nearly crushing the folder in his lap.

The same calm, dead eyes stared back at him, and this time, Soap could have sworn the bastard was smiling under his mask. The man sat up in his chair, resting his elbows on the desk before him. “Not a threat doctor. An offer.”

“What?” Soap’s anger was quickly replaced by confusion at the man’s words. What the fuck was this wanker on about?

“Med school isn’t cheap, doctor. Neither is paying for your younger sister’s schooling as well. Even after all these years, you still owe nearly £140,000 ($175,000) as you can see in the documents provided,” the man continued, his tone matter-of-factly.

Soap’s stomach dropped at the staggering amount. He knew his debt was substantial, but hearing the figure laid out so plainly was a gut punch. He had gotten as many scholarships as he could, but the interest on the loans just kept moving the goalpost. The man was right, Med school was not fucking cheap. He made good money now but after rent, loan payments, and his sister’s bills he was barely making it by. He was too stubborn, and maybe a little ashamed, to take money when Price offered and he owed his mother too much to burden her with paying for school. He was the man of the family, it was his turn to take care of her and his sister.

Soap blinked at the man, feeling a twinge of embarrassment at being called out for his financial struggles. “I’m not selling no bloody drugs,” he blurted out, unsure if he even had a choice to begin with.

That actually managed a small huff from the other man. “I don’t want you selling drugs. I want you as my on-call doctor,” he clarified, and Soap felt another pang of embarrassment at his assumption.

“What would you need an on-call doctor for?” Soap asked, his curiosity winning over his apprehension.

“Well, let’s just say I’m not the only one who gets occasionally shot around here. I also can’t send my people to the hospital without people asking questions they have no business asking, now can I?” the man posed.

“Listen, I’m not even technically a doctor yet. I’m just a resident, and besides, I specialize in orthopedics. You’re lucky your wound wasn’t worse because I probably wouldn’t have been able to save you. You got bad knees or a broken foot, I’m your guy. I’m not trained to handle gunshot wounds,” he explained, his frustration mounting.

“Still better than a vet,” the man quipped, pushing Soap’s patience to its limits. He was very close to jumping over the desk and throttling this man. Self-preservation be damned.

“Look, the deal is you come when called, provide medical attention, and I’ll pay off part of your debt each time. You get paid to save lives during the day, what does it matter if it’s off the clock?” The man continued, unbothered despite the seething man across from him.

Soap couldn’t hold it in anymore, standing up and slamming his hands down on the desk. “It matters because the people I help save aren’t being injured from breaking the law. And that’s exactly what I would be doing if I agreed. I could lose my license for that,” he pointedly stated.

“I wouldn’t let you get caught, doctor,” the man assured, his tone infuriatingly confident to the point Soap actually believed him.

“Stop calling me doctor!” Soap snapped, he was letting this man get under his skin and it was pissing him off. He sighed and sank back down in his seat. This conversation wouldn’t go anywhere if he kept getting angrier.

Running his hands through his hair and over his face, Soap looked at the man with resignation. “I don’t have a choice, do I?” he muttered, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. He felt utterly defeated, his pride wounded by the circumstances.

“I always give people a choice, they just usually know which one’s the right option,” the man offered.

“I’m not some medical prostitute,” Soap stated firmly through clenched teeth.

“Of course not, doctor,” the man flippantly replied, the use of the title irking Soap to no end.

“If I say no, are you going to let me walk through that door?” Soap asked, his gaze fixed on the man, searching for any hint of sincerity. The bastard slowly looked up at the ceiling, his hands folded as if he was genuinely considering his options.

“I don’t know where you came up with the assumption I am a monster, doctor. No one is keeping you here. We both know you won’t go to the police, either out of fear of incriminating yourself or Gaz. It was a generous offer on my behalf, only trying to help,” the man punctuated with what Soap was sure was an overly dramatic smile, judging by the crinkle of his eyes. The man using his friendship with Gaz against him had that anger from a few minutes ago bubbling back up.

“Then my answer is no. May I leave now?” Soap’s exhaustion was palpable. He longed to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the office and go back to his flat and sleep for five days straight.

The other man didn’t say anything for a moment before standing up and reaching out a gloved hand towards the Scot. Hesitant, Soap pushed himself up on slightly shaky knees and grabbed the giant’s hand. His grip was ice cold and nearly crushing. He hoped the other couldn’t feel just how clammy his own hands were in comparison. While maintaining steady eye contact, the man finally spoke, “Thank you for saving my life, doctor.” Soap’s mouth went dry at the intense stare. “Yeah sure, no problem,” he managed to squeak out.

The taller man rounded the corner, his arm stretching towards the door for Soap to exit. As he got to the door, the man reached around to grab the handle, leaning in. His breath was hot against Soap’s neck even through the mask, sending shivers down his spine.

“Name’s Ghost, by the way. I do hope I’ll get to see you again, doctor,” he murmured softly. Much too softly for a man of his stature. Soap’s brain felt like it had melted at the proximity of the other man, or rather, Ghost. And people tell him ‘Soap’ is a stupid nickname?

In a poor attempt to save face, Soap awkwardly rushed through the door’s threshold, “Well, let’s fucking hope not,” he tossed over his shoulder, too afraid to look back at the man.

Soap didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he turned the corner of the staircase and was out of Ghost’s sight. He rested against the wall, trying to calm his racing heart. Focusing on the pulsating vibrations emanating from the club below rather than his own beating heart.

— — —

He didn’t even remember walking out of the club or the ride back to his apartment. His body operating on autopilot after the unsettling meeting or whatever the fuck that was. Soap didn’t even bother showering when he got home, opting instead to instantly collapse onto his couch as soon as his shoes were off. He could feel tears of relief and pent-up frustration welling up as soon as his head hit the cushion.

On-call doctor?!

Yea, the ‘Ghost’ needed to stop smoking his own product. Like he was just gonna abandon years of schooling and hard work, and not to mention his eventual license, to cater to him and his ‘business’. And on the off chance he didn’t get caught, how could he live with himself saving criminals? Sure, he knows everyone deserves saving. Price engraved that into him a long time ago. He wouldn’t have become a doctor if he didn’t believe that. But he wouldn’t leave his legitimate patients to go save a random dealer who was more than likely shot by a cop at the drop of a hat. At worst, he’d go to prison; at best, he’d lose his job. Both options sucked.

The only thing keeping the thought in his head was the money. Desperately needed money. Soap had considered getting a part-time job, but his busy schedule made that option nearly impossible. He was barely getting enough sleep as it was, and Price would skin him alive if he found out he got a second job instead of taking money from him.

The man had been there for every rugby game, every time he was drunk off his ass and needed a ride, every existential crisis- including the time he popped a boner in the boy’s locker room and panicked. Price could have just offered his condolences at his father’s funeral and went on his way. Instead, the man was always there for them, no matter what. Soap refused to repay that loyalty with a mountain of debt.

That fucker knew exactly what he was doing by putting his sister in that damned file. She was his weak spot, and Ghost wielded her like a perfect weapon. Even so, he’s managed this far, and he can manage for a bit more. He hadn’t hit rock bottom just yet.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the resident ball of fur hopping up in front of his face. A muffled, “ello beasty,” was all he got out before closing his eyelids one last time. That cold, amber gaze from earlier burned into his brain. Forever watching him, even in sleep.

Chapter 3

#ghostsoap #ghostsoap fic #ghoap #ghoap fic #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #enemies to lovers #eventual smut #stitches #chapter 2

5 notes · View notes

xxmissarichanxx · 3 months ago

Text

✨XMACX Monthly✨October 2024

Happy October!!! A younger me would’ve told you Christmas was my favorite holiday of the year, but I’ve come to enjoy Halloween and October. Dressing up and eating candy is still as much fun as it was when I was a lil girl.

You can read the update on XXMISSARICHANXX.com or under the cut below!

Anyway, the update this time around is short since not much happened in terms of project progress last month.

What’s Happening in October?

Nothing too exciting project-wise. I decided to be real with myself, so I’m taking a small break from drawing and dev work to plan our wedding and prep for a lifting competition. Once those things are out of the way, I’ll fall back to old habits (lol…).

In the second half of October, I’ll be on vacation! I was told to spend more quality time with my fiancee and to enjoy our wedding planning process more, so I’m taking full advantage LOL.

As for the upcoming cover art, here are some potential cover models! Poll drops Friday, October 4, on Instagram Stories and Twitter/X Polls!

A) Kou, an ex-gangster who now owns a bar B) Noel, a shy were-lion C) Mochi, a bratty Pomeranian D) Monty, a stoic Siberian Husky

To me, November screams “Thanksgiving” and “Fall/Autumn”, so here are some themes I’m considering for November’s cover…

A) Feast: a spread of the cover model’s fave foods. B) Pumpkin Spice: the cover model in desert, but make it pumpkin and make it spicy… hehe… C) Specifically if Mochi wins, brat outfit lmao. But I guess “brat” fits Kou too…

VN Dev | Froot Basket White

I didn’t give myself much opportunities to work on my projects last month. I just felt overwhelmed with work and a bunch of other projects and life stuff. When I did have time to sit at my desk to draw, I chipped away at some of those new Sutoro sprites! Here’s a lil peep!

Other than that, I’ve been figuring out some fun compositions for the CGs in Sutoro’s route. I can’t seem to settle on anything, though, so I’ll be spending this month trying to tackle it again.

The holiday season is coming up, so progress on project work will probably slow down drastically. I hope to at least finish drawing the new sprite art and coding it into the game this month so I can spend next month worrying more about the CG art and other extra art items and visuals.

Cover Story | Kaimana as Vegeta

I love love love Vegeta. I love his overwhelming confidence, his witty comebacks, his arrogance. Wow. Honestly, so hot. Plus he’s so cute when he gets flustered!!! When everyone cast their votes last month for the tsundere character Kai should cosplay, Vegeta won by a hair! I was so excited!!! I’ve been a long time DBZ fan and I don’t often draw DBZ fan art. Having the opportunity to draw Kai dressed as one of my fave character’s of all time was such a treat! I also mentioned wanting to draw someone cosplaying with Kai, but who that would be depended on the character that won. Of course, if I’m drawing Vegeta, I have to draw Goku! And who better to cosplay Goku with Kai than his best friend, Satoru! It honestly fits them so well. Satoru is so fun-loving and energetic, he plays off of Kai’s grumpiness well.

I went with Vegeta’s Namek Saga look because that’s the outfit I associate him with the most. I considered having them pose in their iconic battle poses, but I went with Galick Gun and Kamehameha because they fit together on a cover better. It looks so cool!!! Also it gives me an excuse to have fun with rays and beams of light!

Here’s the final illustration! I removed all the extra fun stuff for the actual cover because, otherwise, you wouldn’t be able to read all the words…

I considered doodling a lil Masa as Frieza in the background, but ended up leaving him out. That would be pretty funny tho… Maybe next time… xDD

Other News…

Not much honestly. Just vibing out here, picking up as many shifts as my body will allow me to make more money to fund my wedding vision lol and enjoying time with the boo thang. Actually, for the last six months I had enjoyed working at a single location, but now I’m back to traveling for work. It was easier before and I didn’t mind it as much, but now I just have to get used to it again??? Or just need to figure out how to make things work better for me again??? But no biggie. Gotta make my bread somehow, know what I mean? lol

If anyone’s interested in fitness or lifting at all, I’ve been training for a powerlifting competition! It’ll be my first meet, so I’m a lil nervous. I’ve been having a lot of fun though! I dunno, but carrying heavy things is just fun. Better than running LMAO (sorry, i dislike cardio so much…) Right now just been struggling to make weight… Is it stress? Is it my inability to stay away from ice cream? Or a bit of both? Maybe its my refusal to do cardio LOL.

Next Month?

The plan is to get wedding stuff out of the way so I can focus more of my creative energy on my projects again. Meaning, don’t expect much updates about project progress from me in November LOL. Just being real.

Peace. Love. Rock’n’roll. xxAri

#xmacx monthly #vndev #game dev #original art #illustration #drabon ball z #dbz fanart #oc art #xmacxart #xmacxoc #art #kai

1 note · View note

mendesbadrepuation · 3 years ago

Note

PLEASEE write an angst where reader is in love with druig- it’s one sided/unrequited love (or so she thinks) and Druig hurts her feelings by being an asshole!! Makes her leave while crying and Druig tries to get her back or something like that? Oh and please just write tons of angst druig imagines I beg you

Don’t // Druig x Eternalfem reader

Based off this request I got! Hope you enjoy this anonymous!

Pairing: Druig x Eternalfem reader

Prompt: You told me that I was the job, the chore you had to do. To me, you were everything.

TW: ANGST! Annnngggssstttttt! Mild cursing and mentions of blood, reader gets a minor injury, not grammar checked, written fast (it was during my break)

a/n: just have to peep in and say that all the love and comments I have received on Stay has been AMAZING!! each of y'all deserve some head and I hope you get some for being spectacular! thank you guys so very very much!!!

~~~~~~~~~

There was a silence in the Domo today that you couldn’t quite grasp. Maybe it was from the fact that laying in the bed, injured, in front of you, was the love of your life. Or perhaps it was the fact that you knew when he awoke things would go back to normal. The normal being, him ignoring you. You weren’t even sure how you two reached that point. At one time, he would spend hours just talking to you about everything on this earth you two discovered. Lately, it was coming to a stop. A heartbreaking stop.

You were utterly in love with him. There was a day where you thought he may feel just the same. Just when you were going to confess it all he shut you out. It was all in your head that he may actually have felt the same.

“Hey, how is he?” Sersi stood at the door and her voice was soft. You could hear the concern in her voice.

Your eyes glance to her and then back at Druig. He was unconscious and had been for several hours. There was a deviant outbreak in a nearby area. Just as we were set here to do you went out to fight against them.

“Still unconscious.” You shortly reply. In a comforting manner you hold his hand carefully. There were bandages across his toned chest and a deep gash near his temple. The other Eternals did their best to get you to eat or even sleep. You couldn’t leave him. Not after you caused this and you blamed yourself far too much.

Sersi walks into the room quietly to stand behind you. Her hand reaches out and puts it on your shoulder. She was always the one to comfort you in any situation. Now was no different. She knew how you blamed yourself for this. And she did her very best to make you understand it wasn’t your fault. He made the choices he did.

“You need to rest. Someone needs to patch up that gash on your arm anyways.” Sersi suggests. It was true. In the midst of the chaos and helping take care of Druig you hadn’t noticed your own injuries.

“Just let me change his bandages. Then I’ll fix this.” You gesture to your arm and she nods her head in approval. You watch her walk out of the room to leave you to your duties.

You find the bandages and ointment needed to help with the cleaning. Carefully, you began to change his larger bandage on his chest. He slightly stirs as you do and that makes you nervous. There was sweat forming on his body. It let you know that at least his body was trying to heal. Just as you are fixing his temple bandage you felt his hand wrap around your arm.

“What happened?” He barely mumbled enough that you could understand it.

“Hey Druig, a deviant got a hold of you.” You kept it simple for him. Maybe he didn’t remember the words he spoke to you before he passed out. You surely did. “I’m just cleaning your bandages.”

His eyes open fully and he looks at you. For a second all you could focus on was the color of his iris’s. They were the softest shade of blue and for a moment it was like all was right in the world.

“I don’t want you here.” His words stung. They hurt so much that you felt the pain in your chest. It caught you off guard and you do everything in your power to not cry.

“Just let me fix your bandage on your head and I’ll be gone.” You fight the crack in your voice but it falters just at the end of the sentence.

“I’m serious. Just leave. It’s not like you actually care. You’re here because you caused this.” Your lips part in shock from the words.

“You don’t mean that.” You thought just maybe it was the medicine you gave him. Or the fever that was breaking out through his body. Druig had been cold but not ever this cold before.

“I do.” He says through gritted teeth and doesn’t dare to look at you. His hand pushes yours away that was trying to replace the bandage. It caused your body to turn away in an awkward motion to avoid hitting his gash. His other hand clashes across your open wound on your arm and you suck in a sharp breath at the pain it induced.

You lean back and step away from his bed. One hand covers the gash to stop the bleeding that started again from it being reopened. The tears that you fought so hard to contain began to fall down your cheeks. Your eyes peered into him with the most hurt expression.

“I don’t know what I ever did to make you hate me like this.” He keeps his head turned towards the wall. “I’m sorry that this happened. I blame myself for it all. But you didn’t have to jump in front of that deviant for me. I had it under control.” Instead of leaving right away you at least had to share your side.

“Obviously you didn’t! Or we wouldn’t be here.” He replies and you could tell he was getting frustrated. There was some other demons he was battling. Being with Druig for so long you had grown to know him. Almost like the back of your hand.

“Screw you Druig. Forget that I ever cared about you.” Tears were freely falling down your face now. “I’ll leave you alone. That way you don’t have to worry about me being a job for you. A chore!” You bring back the words he muttered to you before he passed out.

As you wipe away the tears and turn to leave the room he doesn’t say another word. Sersi was beside the door along with Sprite and Kingo. They look at you with such pity in there eyes. It was no deny that they had heard everything from that conversation.

You went to the common area of the Domo to grab the rest of the first aid kit. Your brain was fuzzy with so many thoughts circling it was hard to focus. The tears just kept freely falling making your cheeks raw. You didn’t want the pity from your family. So you chose to take yourself outside to a favorite place of yours. Somewhere for you to be alone and so you can cry all you want.

When you find your spot you neatly sat your kit down to prepare it. The pain was getting to be unbearable in your arm. You knew Druig didn’t mean to hit it. That pain didn’t compare to the pain of your emotions.

For so many years you slowly fell in love with that boy. How could you not? There were nights that you spent together that were the best of your existence. He showed you what a best friend is and never once let you down. Not until now. Why now?

With shaky hands you tied a band above the gash on your arm. Just to get the bleeding to slow down so you could clean it up. Your hands were shaking so much that it was hard to really do anything. And with the tears invading your vision it was even worse.

You start to clean the gash and even more tears flowed out of your eyes. “Fuck!” You shouted in pain.

“Stop!” You we’re so blinded by the pain your arm and your chest you didn’t fully register the voice. Your hands shook so bad and you felt the world caving in on you. “Stop!” They say again and you look up.

Druig was stumbling his way over to you. There was a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and he was still shirtless. His pants hung loosely on his hips and he didn’t even have shoes on. He was struggling to stand straight.

“Don’t get any closer!” You felt the heat of your powers began to stir. There was no doubt that you had a strong control over your powers. But when things like this happened it would cause you to lose control.

You lost all control and began to break out into a sob. All the doubts, the pain, and insecurities surfaced to the top. The words he spoke played repeatedly in your head. There was a chaos of energy forming around you. Leaving you breathless and in pain.

It broke Druig to see you like this. To know that he was the reason behind it. In his mind he thought it would be best to push you away. He never thought he was worthy of love. The times he spent with you showed him what it could be like. It scared him and the thought of losing you scared him even more.

“Stop.” He reaches out to you, his knees hit the ground to properly be eye level with you. His hands go to your back to slowly start to rub circles and soothe the pain away. “Stop. Please.” He begs you. His touch automatically causes your powers to subside.

“It hurts.” You cry out in pain and that’s when his very own heart broke in half. It was already cracking from saying the words he said to you. For being so cold to you. He was an idiot to ever think that hurting you like that would keep his fears away.

“I’m sorry.” His eyes began to tear up. “I’m so sorry my beautiful girl. I hurt you in ways I can’t even begin to imagine.” Druig moves closer to you and tucks his body underneath yours. You were practically in his lap as he held you close to him.

His heart sank to his stomach the moment you looked up into his eyes. There was a pain in your eyes that he couldn’t express. Pain that he caused. Those eyes hold the stars to him. Never had he seen them so dull like that before. He cups your cheeks and uses the pads of his thumbs to wipe away the tears.

“Why did you say those things to me Druig?” The way you said his name and not one of your nicknames made him want to burn.

“I was stupid. An idiot that let my fears get the best of me. The thought of losing you was the worst possible thing to cross my mind. If I didn’t let you in then I would never have to worry about having you then one day you’d realize that you don’t want me. You would leave and I would lose you.” This time a few tears fall down his cheeks as he looks at you. You both we’re completely broken but you were in it together.

You slowly wrap you arms around his neck so you could hide your face into his neck. He tightly wraps his arms around your back and presses your body as close to his as he could. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen after this but he knew that he had to hold you. Even if it was his last time doing so. There was a lot of forgiveness that had to be earned. Druig was willing to work for every last bit of it.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers into your hair and cries a little harder.

“Don’t let me go.” You say into his neck and he grabs on to you tighter. His eyes shut to rid of the tears that wouldn’t stop. You were another piece to him and he broke that.

From that point on Druig vowed to never hurt you ever again. He vowed to stay true to you. He vowed to make up for all the things he said and done. There was nothing that he wanted more in this life than to be yours. To have you for the rest of his immortal life.

#Druig eternals #DRUIG #druig oneshot #Druig x you #druig angst #marvel #barry keoghan #druig x eternal!reader #druig x reader #angst

2K notes · View notes

oriigirii · 4 years ago

Text

💞 MC is a Genshin Simp 💞

=====

{ AN: Omg! This is my first ask so thank you anon (๑ↀᆺↀ๑)/!! This is such a vibe too haha, I hope you like it! } Warnings: None [Maybe Refs and Chars you wont get if you dont play Genshin Impact] * Probably a bit OOC too *

Reader: Gender-Neutral [Default]

( ⓛ ω ⓛ *)

========

< Genshin Impact was a game that took the human realm by storm, with its open-world gameplay, its competitive PvE and aesthatic settings, it was truly something that captured you the moment the beta was announced. Although, as with any Gacha games, you weren’t only attracted to the world and its setting.

No no.

The characters were truly the main eye candy of the game. You’d been worried that when you had been sucked into Devildom, you wouldn’t be able to access the game due to, yknow, realm differences, but luckily that wasn’t the case thanks to Levi, and hence why the moment it dropped, you had been spending your life savings simping for characters on every banner.

Yknow theres handsome bois in devildom too... Theyre just kinda waiting for you to put your game down for a moment and kinda notice em ～((Φ◇Φ)‡ >

------

ฅ⁽͑ ˚̀ ˙̭ ˚́ ⁾̉ฅ Lucifer

He usually doesn’t mind you playing games

Although, He would’ve preferred if you didn’t cause you kinda need to focus on your studies yknow?

But hey he’s not stopping you

Usually you would stay with him as he works, but he can’t seem to focus with you constantly begging beside him

Small little ‘please’ would be heard every now and then, and a sudden look of disappointment would show on your face.

He tried to ignore it, even giving little cues for you to quiet down, like clearing his throat

You didnt seem to pick up the hint though

He was just about to ask you what you were doing in the first place that has you praying beside him (which is hella rude) but your scream of happiness has him a little more irked and kinda taken back

“LUCIFER! I GOT HIM! LOOK LOOK I GOT HIM!”

You show him the screen showing your pull results

The character held a giant claymore with bright red hair

Before he can get another word in, you snatch your phone back and just sigh as if youd just had a heavenly (ironic) experience and mumble

“I seriously love him, Im so happy...”

Bro same though, Diluc pls come home

You were truly one of a kind, because youve just managed to break the Avatar of Pride’s... well.... Pride.

Did he just get cucked by a man in a video game?

Truly outrageous.

He seems to scoff and holds back a bit of an eye roll as he tries to focus back on his work

But boy oh boy, his salt is high

“If you are going to be causing a ruckus MC, May i suggest you doing it with Levi instead, I have no time for such games. I dont see why youre so caught up in such a character anyways, he looks quite basic.”

His words were sharp, and that was enough to shake you out of your fangirl/boy mode.

You were literally ready to fight the first born, a literal fucking fallen angel, for dissing Diluc like that

how dare

But then you notice how he seems to avoid your gaze and a small little red tint was on the tip of his ears.

Lucifer wouldve wanted to see you that happy with him, but no, a game character steals that spotlight.

Angey.

Instead of being intimidated by the sudden coldness, you giggle and finally close your phone and set it aside

You can continue celebrating and bragging about it later, for now, you wrap your arms around his arm and give him a small smooch on the cheek, which definitely makes him blush a tad bit

“Awww Luci dont be like that, Yknow I love you more”

Potential apocalypse has been diverted

But Lucifer does smile the smallest of smiles as he sighs, finding it silly to really get jealous over such a small thing and says

“I love you too, my dear... but you do have to make up for distracting me from my work...”

Well you kinda deserve it, so it wasnt long before both his work and your phone had been ditched

( After a while you do kinda see him quite similar to Diluc and it just makes you smile everytime you think about it, seems you have a thing for the strict cold men huh?)

===

Σ(‘◉⌓◉’) Mammon

Why you simping for a fictional character when you already have him?!

He’s your first man!

Your homie!

“Yeah well hes my first 5* so can you blame me?”

S A D N E S S

But for real, this man is just so clingy

He has heard from Levi that you were playing a new game from the human world, and of course, he had wanted to see what it was about by watching you play.

But since it was quite grind-heavy gacha game, he grew a bit bored and asked you to come with him to hang out somewhere else, or even go to the casino and gamble his money away cause he just got goldie back

But no matter what he suggests, you were just so focused on your grinding.

He’d prefer a different kinda grinding right about now with how lonely he is, ya feel me?

But no, you still werent interested.

“Oi! Cmon MC, whats even so important about this?”

“I already told you Mammon, Im grinding for primogems from the event! Theyre gonna be gone soon and I just HAVE to get them! Ugh I swear to Diavolo, if I dont, Imma cry! I didnt get him on their first banner too... ugh!”

Wait no--

Cmon he doesnt want you to cry!

Mammon kinda stays silent for a bit as he watches you struggle to fight the monsters with your low level team, frustration growing on your face.

But as you finish, Mammon seems to snatch your phone

“Hey! whats the big deal Mammon?!”

“Shut up and show me where the store is geez”

Mammon’s demands kinda surprises you and you raise an eyebrow at him, but you do show where it was, and sit back for a while as Mammon just fiddles around with it. You werent sure what he was doing honestly, was he interested? Did you say anything that made him act this way? All you talked about the game was the gacha system so--

oh…

“Mammon! Wait you dont have to---”

“There! I got you as much primo things, or whatever theyre called”

He already has tossed you your phone back and he crossed his arms, looking away as the red blush covers most of his cheeks.

You look at your phone and you honestly felt your heart speed up and stop at the same time at the amount of primos on your account, it was enough for a full 180 pull! If you dont get the limited character on the first 50-50, you have another shot!

You felt your own heart speed up and your face burn so hard, but you do mumble him a quick “But... But why though?”

“Cuz! If you start cryin’ Lucifer’s gonna beat my ass! Dont think I did it for you, you human! I just dont want him taking away Goldie again!”

“But I thought this was your gambling money, isnt it?”

“w-well!... I mean... Hmph.. Gachas kinda like gambling right?, I know Lucifers gonna hang me if he catches me in the casino again anyways, so I thought I might as well just do this... with you...or whatever...” Hes dying, help

But so are you!

Hes too fucking cute and you just glomp him and just hug him as tight as you can!!

Flusterred boi 100

But you do spend you afternoon on his lap, both of you rolling the full 180 in excitement, whether you get that boi/gal you simped for on the banner or not, you still were happy to spend some time with Mammon

He doesnt mind losing a bit of cash for you

but you do promise to pay him back (maybe with a few kissy)

But to be honest, Gacha probably will help him with his gambling addiction...

kinda...

He doesnt go to casinos anymore but he does whale with you now

Lucifer has such a mix feeling with these results.

But he still confiscates Goldie and your card on the end, yall need to chill.

====

ヽ(。_°)ノ Leviathan

He probably wasn’t even interested on the game at first

He already has enough games to play, and it just looks like another rip off of some other game he saw not too long ago with that elf looking guy

But when you came to him asking for his help to get the game, you bet your ass that he felt a switch click

Suddenly it was incredibly interesting!

You do share your interests to him almost immediately

By interests, of course i mean the peeps you simp for

The sexy ara ara in the library of mondstat, the pirate looking ass of the guards, the pirate looking ass’s brother thats a wine owner and still highkey reminds you of Lucifer, the demon slayer--- You were actually unsure if you should talk about Xiao but hey hes cool

You explain it all!

From their lore to their voice lines and whatever

But honestly what do you expect from the Avatar of Envy?

Of course hes gonna be a bit jealous! He cant compare to any of these characters! Hes not as witty as that eye patch man, hes not as sophisticated as that red head, hes not as flirty as that ara ara either!

As you go on, you notice that Levi was kinda... half listening....

It made you pout, but then, it made you worried

Uh-oh you know that look

its that, ‘im overthinking’ look

So to snap him out of it, you kinda grab his face as gently as you can

“Need Grimm for your thoughts?”

He flushes and he immediately looks away, but you usher him to look at you as you coo and ask him whats wrong

It takes a bit till he kinda explains to you how hes feeling

In your relationship, you both were practicing being more open with each other, hence why you were proud of Levi for saying it

but you did feel kinda sad and frowned as he finishes explaining

“You... feel jealous?”

“Ugh d-dont say it out loud normie....”

He covers his face with his arm and you just cant help but shake your head with a fond smile, but you do need to address this and comfort him.

“Levi... when you fanboy about Ruri chan, did you ever think she was better than me?”

Your question made him frown and look at you in absolute worry

Did you actually think that you were below Ruri chan?

Of course hes an absolute simp for Ruri but.. cmon

Now that he thinks about it, he does talk about her a lot doesnt he? oh no...

“MC O-Of course not! I love Ruri chan yes, but you... I... I Love... you more...” Levi exe do be dying

But you smile at his response and gently kisses his cheek

“I think thats sweet Levi... But thats how I am too... Youre still better than any of these characters, youre real and they arent, youre mine and I am yours~ Youre my personal 5 star!” You wink at him and Levi just dips

his heart couldnt handle the cuteness and he died, ladies and gentlemen

but for real he did pass out

Must be from all the blood on his head from the blush

But ah, he does get it, and after being showered with love from you, He kinda slowly got over his jealousy

its not immediate but with simple reassurances, you can manage to reel him in and have fun with you

He does end up enjoying the game cause he gets to spend time with you, and he gets to show off when events happen

He also goes out of his way to memorize locations for materials for you, and when youre sick or busy, he pilots your account

true gamer

But ironically enough hed probably start simping for a character too and of course, you both start bonding over that, which just makes Levi absolutely happy

I wonder if hed simp for Barbara, she is an idol afterall like Ruri chan

Probably lowkey for now

Afterall she looks like a minor so-----

( I dunno i searched shes 16-18 lol )

But regardless, I can imagine you both just cosplaying each others fav characters too

Its a wack looking ship cosplay but yall just simp for each other cause of it, its pretty fun but the rest of the brothers just finds it hella weird

----

I only have energy for these 3 as always, Im sorry! But i promise Ill do the rest!! I hope you guys do enjoy, and Id love some feedback on the characters personalities cause I know they can be a bit Ooc, But feel free to send me an ask! Im pretty open lol 〜(￣△￣〜)

#Obey me #Obey me x reader #Obey me x mc #Obey me shall we date #obey me Mammon x reader #Obey me Lucifer x reader #Obey me Leviathan x reader #Obey me fanfic #Obey me HCs #anon request

251 notes · View notes

rouiyan · 4 years ago

Text

𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘚 𝘚𝘏𝘐𝘙𝘛 𝘖𝘍 𝘏𝘐𝘚 [ 𝘭.𝘫𝘯 ]

⧏ part of the 2020 home for the holidays collective ⧐

synopsis: jeno decides that, this time around, he would rather risk heartbreak than love you in silence for seven more years.

✧ lee jeno x (fem.) reader) ✧ childhood best friends to loverz, next door neighbor au, (mentioned college au)

✧ genres : fluff, angst, slight comedy ✧ word count : 19.3k ✧ disclaimers : swearing, underage swearing (?), shirtless jeno, legal alcohol consumption

✧ author’s note — i am unsure as to why you would spend your christmas reading this heckin long fic, but in the case that you do, i hope that you enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it. it’s longest fic i’ve written thus far (though only by a hundred or so words) so happy reading <3 and i’ll see you around :D

jeno’s glad his mom’s asked him to go to the grocery store, a two minute walk away, to grab some eggs, a tub of sugar-free yogurt, and a breath of fresh air—the most welcome change of pace to his stuffy bedroom or the dust of the stale garage. he thinks he's the first of his high school graduating class to arrive back in town for the winter but it’s here at the store that jeno sees you for the first time in years. his hand, the right one, clutching an empty basket goes limp and he's two steps away from being fully unconcealed by the far end of the dairy aisle. surely, he must look like a creep with only his head peeping out.

it's been years. your hair is now a faded silvery brown, presumably dyed, and gathered into a messy ponytail. the ends of your hair fight with the hood of your sweatshirt, a distilled blue and loose fitting atop a pair of gray sweats. and the basket, looped upon your left elbow, is as empty as his own but you're overturning a can of condensed milk in your other hand, eyes scrutinizing the packaging for the expiration date, the later the better.

he would go and say hi, maybe even strike up a conversation, ask you how you’ve been, but he can’t bring himself to because he’s wearing that one bright green shirt from his seventh grade math competition that is certainly not up to your liking nor preference. really, it’s not that he thinks you'd judge him, knowing you, you’d probably get a good laugh from it and move on, but things have changed since then.

you are no longer the girl he walked to middle school with everyday in the mornings, in the afternoons. and jeno is no longer the boy that was the same height as you; the glasses are long gone and so is the thirteen year old boy who'd cried at his mom for telling him he'd have to go to a different high school than you. things are different and things have changed.

it was all this, paired with the gut feeling that if he went up to you, shirt stretched out like a muscle tee, he’d simply be cowering in your presence. jeno had not the faintest idea you’d be returning this winter since the last three years were spent without (and the four before, though that was only because he lacked the guts to ring the doorbell three houses down). he sticks his head back before you notice him. rerouting, he goes for a stroll in the chips aisle and then right back to the dairy after he sees the slightest indication of your sweatpant cuffs rounding the corner.

jeno catches his breath there. he gets the goods and makes a beeline for the cash register, keeping his head down and nearly toppling into the display tower of canned corn along the way. the lovely granny at the register, with a nametag labeled 'poppy' on her pink cardigan, is kind enough to check up on his tattered state as she squints at the barcode to scan the yogurt, "young man, are you alright? you're panting awfully hard there."

he only realizes he's spaced out when she repeats with added concern, "sir? do you need some water or-"

"oh, no- i- no, thank you. i'm-" he clears his throat, a plastered smile to aid in his response, "i'm quite alright, thank you." she gives a faltering smile back, one meant to assure, as she discloses his total, "that'll be seven dollars and forty-eight cents." the items are bagged and handed over to him with a receipt. he's in the midst of giving the kind lady a nod in thanks, in the midst of turning and heading in the direction of the exit, in the midst of taking that first step to freedom, the land of no pressures, when he hears your voice from behind, "jeno? is that you?"

well, shit. he swallows thickly. conscious of his every move, he turns deliberately, the plastic bag hanging, swinging to hit his knee and a hand coming up to the scruff of his neck. he turns to see you next in line, smiling and approaching him with paced steps. only, in his mind, it seems as if you are charging towards him at full speed. although conscious of his every move, jeno unconsciously takes a step back. "y- yeah, that's me."

you beam at the words, setting the basket on your hip as you empty the items onto the checkout conveyor belt. "gosh, i knew it!" he sees your favorite gummy worms, a pack of those flamin' hot cheeto fries which are admittedly too spicy for you to handle, both in the mix of what seems to be baking ingredients. dusting your hands off with two definitive swipes, you fist them and set them on your hips, an adorable pose if he were to be honest. hand falling to his side, jeno watches as a corner of your lip lifts into an emerging grin, "so, how have you been?"

he almost coughs as his words tumble their way into air, "i've been well, home for break, you know, from college and stuff." huh, he thinks, not a bad start.

apparently not because you giggle in turn, "well, obviously." the way you gesticulate your hands with each spoken word strikes familiarity within him. "you don't have to be so vague, jen, we were best friends at one point, remember?" the hand is back at his neck as if it never left, the nickname you had used making him squeak, "yeah, of course i remember." jeno watches as you stare for an awfully long time (two seconds) at his shirt. he knows you're just a thought away from commenting on it when dear mrs. pops clears her throat, a half-apologetic smile on her face, "your total will be sixty-four dollars and twelve cents." your eyes go wide, "oh shit- i mean, oh no!" you feel odd swearing around an elderly though you're really only muttering to yourself, "did i buy that much stuff?"

for some odd reason that he's unable to pinpoint just yet, jeno perks up at that and, seemingly involuntarily, offers, "i got you." he slips his wallet back out, eyeing the twenty dollar bill clutched in your hand. jeno holds out a fifty to mrs. poppy and she takes it before you can protest. you protest anyways, "jeno, wait- no, you don't need to- i could just take some stuff out, you know." he merely nods along, a small smile edging upwards on his lips. mrs. poppy hands you the change and your bagged items and you shove the bills towards jeno who, though no longer needed, is just standing there. he refuses with a shake of his head and hand in tandem, leading the way to the exit but before the two of you make it two steps, mrs. poppy smiles wide before mumbling, most likely meant to herself but discernible to your ears anyways, "looks like someone has a crush on you, dearie."

jeno's heart speeds erratically, again for reasons he has yet to comprehend, and his head snaps to make sure you hadn't heard what he'd just heard. eyes wide upon realizing you had, his head snaps back into place to avoid your teasing gaze. jeno utters a curt, "see you around," the second he's out the automated doors and speed walks to his car, the contents of the plastic bag jostling with each ushered step.

the door to his pristine condition '93 chevrolet vette, his baby, shuts behind him. the grocery bag is set in the passenger's seat, mindlessly. jeno starts up the engine but stays put. he can see you across the parking lot, trying to find the keys to your hyundai kona, the white one that's now a certified gray. he chuckles.

he chuckles at the fact that it's been years upon years and you still have yet to fail to put a smile on his face. he chuckles at the fact that it's been years and your cheery, snarky persona has not changed one bit. he chuckles at the fact that he stills finds every aspect of you effortlessly charming, for so many and no reasons all at once. he chuckles at the fact that he still, still feels the need to impress you every chance he gets. perhaps, things haven't changed all that much.

"i'm home!"

shuffling off your shoes, you hear snippets of your mom's voice coming from the living room. a hand on the doorframe, you push yourself up, only to realize that she isn't even talking to you. rather, and upon entering the room, she's on the phone, unaware of your entrance and exclaiming into the jabbed speaker as she crochets a baby blue piece into existence. stepping into her line of vision, you give her a small smile in return to her nod of acknowledgement before moving on into the kitchen.

you've only just finished up with storing the flour into the pantry when you notice your mom has followed you into the kitchen as well, phone supposedly hung up. she sets her elbows, leaning, onto the counter as she watches you put away the baking goods. there's a glint in her eyes that you're wary of. sure enough, "guess what?"

"mom, i'm not interested in going on another blind date. not after what happened last time with that son of your cowork-"

"no, no, nothing like that," and though her words contradict what you thought was to be another stood up date, you're still on edge for the glint in her eyes has anything but subsided, "i was just going to inform you that mrs. lee's son is back in town."

your eye roll reverts itself halfway. crossing the room, you lean opposite of her on the counter. "you mean jeno?" she nods in slight confoundment. "yeah, i just saw him." your mother leans a little further and her voice comes out bordering a whisper though no one is around to hear but you and there's nothing scandalous to what she's saying, "mrs. lee tells me he's almost six feet tall! is that true?" you lean forward as well, not in interest, but in actuality to grab at the nutmeg extract. "pfft, as if. i'd say five eleven at best."

the humor in your eyes is enough to get your mom to defend her trusted source, "oh, i bet he's getting there." you shake your head, "he's twenty-one mom, i doubt he's still growing." turning your back on her to prop open the spice rack, her voice mumbles along, "you never know…" she relents and moves onwards to the next topic in line, eyes eager, "so, did you get to talk to him?"

she's busying herself with tying up the plastic bags for later use as trash can liners when you turn back around, "i did but i mean, it was short," you gesture to the rest of the food you've yet to put away, "but he did pay for most of this." her face is drawn in teasing and she's about to comment on 'how sweet of him that was' when she realizes what you'd just said. "why? did you not have enough money?"

"no, i only brought a twent-"

she hits you lightly with a tied bag before sticking it in the compartment under the sink with a huff, "how dumb can you be to only bring twenty dollars to a grocery store? especially with all that junk food you always buy." now that's the motherly nagging you're more used to. but the teasing comes back soon after when you're upon exiting the kitchen in favor of changing out your clothes. "why don't i make some food for them so you have an excuse to pay him a visit?"

you very clearly remember your mother's propositions of your wedding all those years ago, after you'd gotten your first boyfriend. she didn't even really like him but it was enough that you did. she'd sworn her preparations were all neat and ready when you'd sat her down to tell her that you'd broken up with him. turning on your heel, your mother's eyes expectant, you give her a knowing shake of your head, a warning for ever since that first boyfriend, you'd refused to tell her a thing about your love life, a torturous prospect for her and just the right thing to ward off any of her coming interventions.

as for her incessant questions that were still sure to come, you supply her with this, "i'm sure he'll come visit us first!"

and in some way, you're right.

head and hands on the wheel, you let out the shakiest of breaths, and another and another until the air before you is laden thick with heat. you release the knuckle-white grip that held the wheel, the pads of your finger an angry red. sighing, you let yourself fall back in the seat with your sights set on the blinking red light under the speedometer, your ears ringing at the blaring alarm. another sigh escapes your lips, vaguely resembling a shudder, as you jerk the keys from the ignition. the red light and the alarm cease and you exit your car.

jeno nearly crashes as he turns the corner onto his street. he didn't expect to see you so soon after the horrid scene at the grocery store the other day, the other day being yesterday. he slows the car as he approaches your driveway, rolls down the window of the opposite seat and ducks, only to see you, hands fisted and on your hips, a similar stance to the one he'd seen yesterday; he blushes unknowingly.

the purr of a nearing car sounds from behind and you whip around to catch the red finish of his vette as it comes to a stop along the sidewalk. tucking a lip under teeth, you cross the length of your driveway to meet the boy in the car. the crease in your brow unsettles him. he clears his throat, "hi, y/n. fancy seeing you around here."

"jeno, i live three houses down from you."

he's not in that green shirt anymore, thank goodness, and he'd prepared for this exact scenario with a slightly more put together outfit. the outfit consisting of a hoodie and sweatpants with his socks and sandals. but now that he thinks about it, he still feels slightly underprepared, "that's right…," he does his best to not sound unintelligent, "what happened there?"

"ahh," fisted hands are back on your hips and a war is brewing within him, fighting to keep his composure. you look back at your car, which looks fine to the eye, "apparently i have a flat tire and i-"

"were you driving when it happened?" jeno gets out of his car as he speaks, questions shooting like rapidfire, "was it on the freeway? how bad is it- wait no, are you injured?"

jeno and his furrowed brows are fast advancing on you and you take a step back in surprise but under the guise of moving back towards your car. genuinely, you weren't quite sure why you hadn't thought of jeno being a 'car person,' especially when that's exactly what his car tells of him. "i don't really know but the alarm went off right before i got off the freeway so nothing serious happened." the two of you tread down the side of your house, back up the driveway. "which one is it- oh, i see." jeno bends down the side of the rear left wheel, a solid smack and squeeze applied and he looks up and back at you, "a nail probably, you got a spare?"

you nod, "i'm pretty sure." crossing your legs you cock an eyebrow at him, at your suspicions. there's something about you being right about all your little inklings because he confirms them almost instantaneously, "i can fix it up for you then," a smile eases onto his face as yours perks up, "really? i mean you really don't have to, i can just go get it-"

"how are you gonna get the car to the shop then?"

and that's how jeno finds himself hauling the car jack from his garage, to yours while you cradle the tools needed in both hands, trailing behind him. he gets to work with the wheel cover as you maneuver around your own garage for the spare and when you find it, you sigh. sighs, seem to be very plentiful, maybe a preferred form of communication this one day. "jen," you wedge yourself back to the driveway between your mom's car and the built-in cabinets. jeno's eyes are focused upon the lug nuts but his eyebrows are raised in expectancy.

"gosh, i'm sorry, but it's- the spare's kinda heavy...do you mind? you know…" you feel bad for asking, almost reluctant but with a wave in the general direction of your hands, he gets it well enough, "oh, it's no problem. i'm here to help you anyways." jeno retrieves the tire with a smile on his face.

you stand off to the side and watch as he raises the back end of the car (seven inches, he said), removes the loosened lug nuts, pulls off the flattened tire, and pushes the spare into place. you give remarks and ask questions once and awhile, all of which must seem pretty dumb to him though he answers each one with a smile and a reassurance to make sure you've understood. tightening the bolt, replacing the tire cover, and lowering the car is done within minutes and he's left rubbing his sullied hands on the towel hung upon his shoulder.

jeno stands and looks over at you. the little complacent smile you've put to show tells a lot about how bothersome you feel in the moment. "you don't have to feel bad, y/n. i offered."

you nod as he packs up his things, blindly handing over the wrench and uttering a thank you in your daze. heading inside, you note that the heater is on and that the window next to the door offers a view of the busying boy. you watch as he leaves and you watch as he comes back again to drive his car up into his garage.

there's something about your inclinations that you can't shake. either the fact that you haven't been home in three years is really getting to you, maybe you're just horny, or whatever is brewing in that head of yours is telling you that first loves stick with you even when they're gone, even when you've been given reasons to get over them, and even when you really are over them.

but when they're there, when he's there, in all his glory, there's only so much you can refuse.

thirteen-year-old donghyuck is a mean little shit, that we all know, and when he eventually pieces one and one together to make two, he's bound to act on it.

especially when one is the fact that you've been skipping out at lunch for "group project" reasons for the past two months and the other one is that jeno has also been skipping out at lunch for "club meeting" reasons, also for the past two months. he's dumbfounded at the fact that it's taken him this long to track the two of you down and he almost wants to laugh at the situation at hand.

donghyuck guesses the slats of the bleachers block him out of your view, but he's certainly in the perfect spot to see the both of you, under the bleachers sitting atop jeno's jacket, meaning that there was barely a space in between you and him. his pride would have been hurt, after all his newest revelation comes in the discovery of his two best friends leaving him with jaemin and renjun during lunchtimes, also his best friends but he grumbles at the thought of being left with those two (one being a flirty little shit and the other an annoying little shit, not all that different from himself; you'd think he'd tone down his mean-ness after witnessing, firsthand, renjun's mirror antics).

a hand of yours is flipping through the pages of a textbook while the other holds a subway sandwich, at which he observes jeno to steal bites from every time you look away towards the book. the scene sprawls into a mess as you begin to notice when jeno tugs particularly hard at the string of cheese that's been pulled far too long. the boy gets a flick on the forehead and an impish smile forms; he almost looks elated to be caught by you.

before he even knows it, donghyuck's onto something, and much more than something he can simply tease you about, oh no, this is the real deal. he reroutes his mind to the image he'd retired from—ducking his head back under the cover of the bush—to the image of you and jeno, smiley, giddy, and secluded from everyone else. the image of jeno and the little giggles he gives as red blossoms on his forehead from where you'd flicked him. and the image of you and your suppressed smile as you try to retain your thinly-veiled frustrations from him. this is it, his friends are falling in love. he's convinced and he also has now appointed himself as the wingman, the cupid in disguise.

the thing is, we're talking about donghyuck (mean little shit) here, not jaemin. so when jeno waltzes into his shared sixth period class, spewing some apparent nonsense of how his club meeting went, (perhaps something that you and him had mutually and meticulously coordinated), donghyuck sits him down in the seat next to him and leans in for a whisper, "i'm gonna ask out y/n today, what do you think?"

jeno doesn't respond, he doesn't even seem to have remotely heard him. or if he did, he must've suddenly underwent a malfunction of sorts because the boy is quite literally just sitting there, staring listlessly at the empty beaker and the lab tools in front of him.

"jeno? are you hearing me?"

lee jeno, instead of feeling a sudden urge to race donghyuck to the finish line, to confess to you before he does, rather feels defeated, deflated, discouraged. donghyuck is a terrible judge of his character for he pushes on, "do you think i should do it right after school today or tomorrow?"

he gulps and while his eyes are still deep in rumination, his mouth is already squeaking the worries have come to haunt him in the last thirty seconds, "you like her?" donghyuck's eyes glint with mischief that the heavens wish jeno hadn't missed though fair enough, they think, because his thoughts are all over the place as donghyuck goes on to respond, "yeah, i've liked her for awhile now," sounds familiar," been wanting to tell her for the longest time," me too, "and i've been kinda scared to," well i'm scared shitless, "but i think i'm ready now," i'm not.

"i think you should go for it," jeno deadpans, eyes still trained on the glass, 500 mL beaker that is very interesting.

donghyuck nearly jumps out of his seat, "wait what?!"

"yeah, you should jus- why're you so surprised- no, why are you even asking me?" jeno finds it much easier to play the role of a supportive friend rather than a jealous rival. he thinks it was rather dumb of him to assume that he was the only one going after you all these months and that he could take his sweet time in confessing and growing your relationship. at least, that's usually how his classroom daydreams go.

but at the same time, they only go that way because though it really has been a few long months, jeno knows that he's still a long way from making his sentiments known to you. he's a reliable kind of guy, who's reliance is often built upon trust. and while the little folder in his mind of all the possible telltale signs that you like him back has been steadily growing, he needs to know definitively for really, thirteen-year-old jeno lacks the courage. even more so now that his best friend, donghyuck, displays the exact courage he needs to confess. jeno figures that his folder must be gargantuan in comparison.

donghyuck doesn't confess to you, not at all, but he makes a show of rushing out the class right when the clock strikes three, leaving jeno to collapse into himself in utter despair. shoulders hunched over, he counts the minutes until he deems it safe to leave. his chair scrapes the floor with a resounding squeak as he stands up, the chemistry classroom now empty. running his fingers through his hair, he makes sure he doesn't cross paths with you as he navigates for the exit, purposely avoiding the area of the campus with your locker and last class.

jeno makes it home with a heavy heart, far heavier than what could be the doing of any simple crush. stupid of him to think it a simple crush when the tug of his heart squelches and sqirms like there's no tomorrow, but it's only years after that he realizes the ache in his heart was the payoff of his first love.

he'll admit that he's never asked what actually happened that day, a part of him was terrified to even imagine the prospects of you and donghyuck being a thing. and even if that wasn't the case, he wasn't keen to risk it in the first place.

so jeno cries on the night his mother bore him the news that he'd be transferring schools. he'd have friends there, sure, jaemin had made the same decision and chenle was to follow in the year after. he'd have the opportunity to make new friends, to start fresh as a high school student but the biggest problem he faced was that there would be no you.

no you to greet in the hallways two minutes before class as you rushed your books into your backpack, slamming your locker shut in a frenzy with your elbow. no you to catch dozing off in history, math, english, and probably all the other classes he didn't but wished he shared with you. no you to sneak off with during lunch, far from your noisy (and nosy) friends and a hair's distance apart from each other. no you to stare at when class gets a little too boring, to share an eraser with, to brush fingers with, to steal bites of a sandwich from.

jeno cries because he'll never get the chance to ask you to prom, he's quite sure you'd never want to attend another school's. he cries because he doubts he'll have the fortitude to text you on a daily, to text you at all, to keep in touch. he cries because in his eyes, the dwindling remainders of your relationship are coming to a close.

one day or another, it'll come to him that it was because of those very thoughts that they actually do.

"oh no, no you definitely planned for this to happen."

"did not!"

"so you're telling me that having me go three houses down to ask the boy that you just so happen to think is cute and the same age as your daughter to go tree shopping with me because you can't carry a tree and dad just so happens to be at work right when you desperately need the tree-" your rambling ceases abruptly as you struggle to find the correct structure of your question that, for emphasis purposes, had derailed itself, "...is all just happenstance?"

"yes," your mother has the straightest look on her face. you're sure she's having a hard time keeping it that way. "unbelievable." she keeps the straight face pretty well and the staring contest you're currently participating in with the snowman candle behind her is futile and broken as you grumble, "fine." your mother has the gall to lift her face into a smile almost immediately upon hearing that.

in all honesty, your reflection in the mirror looks pretty damn good. after spending the few of your days back home in tracksuits and large tees—a minimum effort outfit—dressing up a tad bit for today was certainly not a bad idea, your favorite green corduroy coat making its appearance in the december cold.

the same reflection can be seen in the glass of jeno's front door, the door that swings open right as you're about to ring the doorbell for the third time. his mother is the one who answers and she seems a great deal surprised. "y/n! oh wow, you've grown quite a bit since i last saw you."

you giggle with her, partially out of incredulity because of course you've grown, the last time you really saw her was at your middle school graduation. "it's nice to see you, mrs. lee." she opens the door wide, the smile on her face beaming just as wide, "i assume you're here to see jeno. let's see," the door shuts behind you, "he should be over in the garage," and she leads the way through the house, the layout teeming with renewed familiarity.

"the garage is just down there, sweetie," pointing at the door far down the hall, to the left, "tell me if you guys need anything, okay?"

"will do," you give her a warm smile as she treads off.

pushing at the handle, you think first that jeno isn't there at all but then there's the sounds of metal clanking and his legs that are situated outwards from under one end of his car. in a fear to startle him with your presence, you decide upon a clearing of your throat and a small but sure, "jeno, it's me," to which he responds with a surprised grunt and the further clanking of his tools.

there's the squeaking of his mechanic's creeper before he draws himself straight before you. you nearly give a double take because, well because he's without a shirt, he's shirtless, he's half naked. however you want to put it, it's the dead of winter and he's standing there with his toned chest bare and glinting with sweat while the two of you furiously blush without even looking at each other.

"y/n," his voice comes out strained, "wha- what are you here for?" jeno fusses around hurriedly for a shirt, any shirt, any article of clothing, any piece of fabric. the shirt he eventually finds is almost enough to get him to put it back down but he's desperate. your eyes glimpse across his body once again, and entirely on accident, before he slips the bright green material over his head, your own head snapping in the other direction.

the two of you stand diagonally in opposition to each other, seemingly speaking to no one in particular, "i'm- i came to ask if you'd want to go christmas tree shopping with me? since i don't think i'd be able to by myself…?" you turn towards him, the tension in the air somewhat subsiding, the difference a mere shirt could make.

he stance is awfully rigid as he responds, "yeah, no yeah i can definitely go with you. right now though?"

"if it's not too much to ask of you then yes, right now."

"oh okay, i can do that, i jus-" jeno catches your line of vision dip down to his shirt, he squirms under your gaze, "-i, do you mind waiting for a bit while i get washed up?" eyes flitting back up to meet his, you nod fervently, "fine by me."

the shower runs in the background of your thoughts as you swing your legs off the side of jeno's bed, the same bed he had all those years ago that's sill littered with random pencil marks and stickers on the headboard. the walls adorn large prints of cars, none of which you can identify but you're intrigued nonetheless by how well his childhood room entwines his whole lifespan together. there's mvp trophies on the bookshelf just opposite of you and if you squint, you can see the fine print that spells 'lee jeno, 2015 varsity swim mvp.' a certificate on the wall titles his participation in some algebra competition, a few ribbons to demonstrate his scientific achievements, and a little under where those are pinned into the wall is a framed and familiar picture you haven't seen in a long while.

it's the five of you, eighth grade graduation, with mark behind the camera and chenle and jisung far off in the background. jeno's in the dead center with one arm draped around donghyuck and the other around you, though you're noticing for the first time how the arm around donghyuck falls limp while the arm around you is held tight. gears are turning and shifting in your mind but before you can come to any sort of conclusion on what that could possibly denote, the door to the bathroom on your left is held open.

jeno's dressed fittingly, you think, for christmas tree shopping that is. the green of his sweater matches the green of your jacket and jeno makes sure to comment on that as he reverses his car out of the driveway even though his choice in clothing was deliberately made to match your own. he catches a glimpse of your car in your own respective driveway on the way out the street and at that, he already has another conversation queued and in mind.

"you took your car to the shop, right?"

you find that your eyes dry out if you face them forward for too long, the heat blasting from the front is doing its job well enough. you don't complain though, jeno's just making sure it's not too cold in the car. "yeah, i went this morning. was also going to get it washed but my mom had other plans."

"other plans being making you go buy the tree, i'm guessing."

you click your tongue, "exactly."

silence hangs between the two of you as he veers into the freeway entrance, mulling over what to say next. bring two seven years disconnected best friends together and you'd think there'd be more to talk about but today must be an exception, the only other words exchanged being the following.

"you know, i could wash it for you."

"i've already asked you for too many favors."

"i mean," jeno gives a smile to the side, "you could help."

a smile of your own forms as you muse on, "i could."

"tomorrow?"

"tomorrow."

jeno pulls into a makeshift parking space for the vast christmas tree lot you've decided to buy from this year, your usual having moved further out of town disappointingly. although with all things considered, you doubt there's much of a difference between the trees that are leftover for the few days before christmas and as suspected, the selection isn't all that impressive.

your town and neighboring seemed to have taken a liking towards fraser firs this year, no surprise in that, which leaves the dilapidating alternatives of douglas and noble firs, both of which would be fine if one wasn't prone to browning in a week and the other wasn't so tall. jeno holds up the last of the trees up and you do your routine inspection by viewing it from three feet away to seven, and ten. the boy scrunches his nose as you give a shake of your head, "too full, how are we even gonna decorate it?" and he sets it back against the fencing with a huff, "now what?"

"now, we…," you're unsure as well, eyes roving across the farm to give any candidate of tree a second chance. that's when you're hit with a revelation, well two revelations. rather sardonically, the wilting pines of the trees lead you to the first of your revelations; you're quite literally standing in a tree graveyard and if you were to go so far as to compare it to a graveyard in itself, there comes the thought that you've came with the purpose of buying a poor, dead tree to take it home and prop it back up as if it were alive, dressing it and decorating it, only to throw it to the curb a few weeks later. funny how all your life that seemed perfectly rational.

but christmas is a tradition, and traditions don't necessarily have to die even though they're faulted from the start, certainly not if you can help it.

jeno gives an eensy yelp as in a sudden flurry, you take the sleeve of his sweater between two fingers and drag him down and through the aisles of decaying trees to find the very thing that'd ignite your little light bulb. he's dawdling behind you, best he can, as your steps quicken and stop almost as abruptly before a sizeable army of potted christmas trees, smaller but also more alive than the usual lot. "how's this then?"

"i'm on board," jeno's beside you now and ever-so-aware that your fingers are still gripping his sweater. it doesn't stop there, however, because now your hands are enveloping his arm in its entirety and you're speaking softly, "of course you are, you're not even needed anymore," the words coming close to his ears from the proximity you've set. they don't warrant a blush by any means and for certain, the reason he's blushing aren't the words, it's you.

you leave his side as you release your hold on his arm, though it seems as if he's the only one who notices. a few steps away, you crouch in front of one that suits your likings to a T. you barely notice jeno's presence behind you, reading off the tag and muttering to yourself, "sustainable, affordable, replantable, eco-friendly, a natural scent, convenient...oh boy, i think we get it." upon further observation you decide that this one's the one—the green is vibrant to the tips and it's just full enough that the pines poke out in all the directions needed to support a modest amount of tinsel. "jeno, i think this is it-"

really, you really really had no idea that he was right there, head right above your shoulder. if you had known, you wouldn't have turned your head in the first place, much less allowed your lips to brush his, however brief. evidently flustered, the two of you snap your sights back ahead, at the same time, with both your hearts beating at the same, turbulent pace. you bring a hand up to your lips, partially in shock and partially in the thought that you basically just kissed lee jeno.

"sorry about that, i didn't think you'd turn…"

even when he's speaking, you don't dare look over at him. but in comparison to the tempestuous replays you're imagining, jeno's thoughts rumble a deeper current than anything he's felt all winter break.

the pot of the chosen tree rests against his hip as he stands a little off to the side to let you pay. he watches you keenly and uses the opportunity to scrutinize what exactly about you makes him feel that one way. as of the late, he finds that none of his emotions are describable and it's frustrating to say the least when all he knows is that the cause of his inner turmoil is you. you and your little sniggers whenever his clumsy side acts out too much for his liking, you and your undeniable affection for all things sweet and all things spicy, and you and your fisted hands on your squared hips, a fighting stance perhaps, a ready-to-throw-hands stance most definitely.

but finally, he gives his feelings a name when he witnesses in the rear view mirror, you and the little smile that creases your eyes, lifts your cheeks, bares your teeth, as you strap in the potted plant to the back seat, giving it a gentle pat as if it were your own child. he names it 'the long lost crush, the one that got away, the second season of his middle school one-sided affair, the-'

"are we...gonna go?"

jeno jumps in his seat, "huh? oh." hand on the gear stick, he avoids your gaze fervently and pulls out of the spot. there's a shift in the air, at least from his end, and he thinks it has something to do with how he's come to terms with the fact that he likes you, again. is he surprised? no. why not?

because he knows this much, the longer you're by his side, the less it can be helped. he remembers every night in high school when, even in the time the two of you'd stopped talking, he'd stare lethargically at his ceiling before he went to sleep and imagine you by his side. he remembers another handful of nights in college when, long after he'd thought he was well over you, he still found himself rethinking your smile and refiling that folder of his. time carried on, and though he didn't necessarily have a heartbreak for it to heal, it wouldn't have mattered anyways because in his case, time could never heal. not for him and not in the face of you.

so jeno laughs along with you when he trips over your front steps, he sets both hands on the doorframe and leans in ever so slightly to say his goodbyes, and when the door shuts behind him, he takes a good look back over his shoulder anyways, hoping that you'd pop your head at the window, that you'd catch his lingering gaze. jeno's steps are resolute because he's not thirteen anymore. it's no longer about whether you like him back or not, it's about dealing with the fact that he likes you. and if his coping mechanisms come in the form of pushing his bounds as just a friend, flirting an obscene amount, and perhaps even confessing, then so be it.

jeno decides that, this time around, he would rather risk heartbreak than love you in silence for seven more years.

propping a knee, you catch the back end of the trash bin before it can thud on the pavement beneath you. a huff and a grunt are uttered into the air as you push it against the fenced side of your house, to the curb. you slide it against the elevated sidewalk, down onto the road, and it gives a resounding thump as it hits the ground. you dust off your hands and pivot to retrieve the last one and upon setting that one down in the spot adjacent to the previous, in the corner of your eye is perceived a figure.

born of instinct, you almost rush back into the house, a case of kidnap tends to loom when you're a young adult female taking out the trash in the dead of night. but another glance is given and the silhouette draws familiar notion, broad shoulders and especial proportions, not to mention the bright green you catch in the light of his porch lamp. it's jeno, and a hand of his clamps over his nose as the other thrusts a plastic bag into the black bin. and it's when he turns to retreat into his residence that his eyes catch you as well and he jumps a bit, recollects himself, waves, and watches as you wave back in the hopes that he could maybe approach you.

instead, he finds that you're the one approaching him and that somehow makes it all the more nerve-wracking as he rushes to meet you in the middle. even a simple, "hi," from you makes his cheeks grow warm. he's breathless when he speaks, and not because of the brisk actions he undertook prior, "hey there."

"are we still on for tomorrow?"

jeno's mouth parts as he retraces his memory to extract what exactly was planned for tomorrow. "ahh, yeah i can do tomorrow...morning?" you clasp your hands behind your back as you nod along, "morning it is then." your lips quirk to the side as you place your gaze on anything but him, to pass time, perhaps to make the silence a little more bearable. jeno's voice is so low the next he speaks, it almost spooks you out of your wits, "have you met up with any of the boys yet?"

his eyes keep their track on you as you take a few steps to the edge of the curb, lowering yourself atop it, "well, i hung out with hyuck the other day," you motion for him to sit beside you and he follows suit, "and i think he mentioned wanting to do some reunion thing at his house. i don't know, i'll have to ask." jeno stirs in his thoughts for the time being. hyuck. though he'd kept in touch with the boy after middle school and a bit after high school, even his name brings up a shitload of memories. "have you?"

"huh?" his eyes whirl to meet yours, "oh. for me, mostly just jaem, and renjun too the other day."

conversation seems to flow intermittently between you two, ongoing or nonexistent at all, for another lapse of silence is thrown into the mix. the air is certainly not governed by awkwardness, jeno feels that the time you've spent with him in the last few days guarantees at least that. but it's also laden with a sort of tension you can't quite place, a territory you're unwilling to traverse into. you move past your thoughts and voice only a sliver of them aloud, suppositionally, "if- if we do meet up, like all of us, do you think it'll be weird?"

"weird how?"

"weird as in…well, a lot's changed, since we were thirteen, and we haven't been in a room together all at once, since we were thirteen."

"i don't know. i think," he shrugs, "i think we'll be fine, me and you at least." jeno likes saying 'we' when it pertains to you and him. he mumbles it over a few times, under his breath, and though it's not entirely out of your earshot, you're far too busy taking long and zoned-out glances at him to notice. that in itself is something he surely notices.

undoubtedly, you must not be the only person in the world to think that jeno grew up well. lee jeno is kind, kind enough to grant you all the favors you've asked of him. lee jeno is warm, you feel he emanates warmth even by simply sitting by his side. lee jeno is sincere, his smiles beam of genuinity and his words are coated in truth. and in the spotty moonlight, flitting in between the boughs of the tree just above, lee jeno is good looking, chiseled jaw, pretty lips, those eyes. but more than that, he lives up to his good looks. you can only wish you'd been there to see him grow up, to grow up with him.

"jen?"

"yes?"

you tap your toes alternatingly on the scratchy pavement, your eyes and his as well are trained on them. licking your lips, you take your gaze from your feet to his side profile and your breath hitches before you speak, "what...what happened to us?"

jeno reverts his eyes onto your own, "what do you mean?" now you're staring right at each other which is usually how any conversation should be, but conversations between you and him seem to always be an exception. fiddling with your fingers, you trace your sights back down to your feet, "you said that we'd keep in touch. well, we both said that."

in truth, as much as the distance that divided the two of you could be denoted from his seemingly unrequited feelings for you, there was much less of a romantic touch in what happened for the most part. for the most part, things panned out as they usually do when two people, once close and once sworn to never not be close, end up being separated by the one thing that brought them close in the first place. that is not to say that your friendship with jeno had no value outside of school and school-related things but really, school was the one thing that made it so you saw the boy day in and day out, shared with him an intimacy that could only be reached with that basis of interaction. more than any derivative of feelings that could drive the two of you apart, your friendship was split by the common ground idea that people come and go. perhaps it was fate that wielded the sorts, perhaps it was merely meant to be. and if you were to chalk it up to fate, you could say that meeting jeno again, like this, was fate as well.

but jeno here, twenty-one-year-old jeno as opposed to thirteen-year-old jeno, would like to come clean with his feelings. at least his feelings of way back when, because this turn of the conversation had churned a past within him that he had yet to be willing to unearth; that is, until now as he susurrates, "because i liked you." jeno feels his eyes gloss over involuntarily, "and with the whole high school transfer and everything, it just kinda all fell apart."

he looks to the other side, as naturally as he can, but there's the unmistakable shuffle of feet from behind him and when he turns back around, sure enough, you've inched closer than his current mental state can handle. you watch as jeno blinks, his eyes lain upon your lap, and a tear proceeds to trace its merry way down his cheek. you catch it with the sleeve of your sweatshirt but even after he's cried through his emotions, your hand stays there, cupping his cheek.

the tips of your fingers protrude from the fabric of the sleeve and they, your thumb in particular, swipe across the heights of his cheeks and the bags under his eyes. your own eyes are soft on his, soft in knowing and in understanding because, "well if it offers you any comfort, i liked you too."

jeno, though fresh in the surprise of revelation, feels an ease pool his mind. he takes a hand and brings it to cup the side of your face as well, mirroring your actions with an equal, loving gaze that holds the memoirs of your cherished past. a past that no longer tugs at his mind, begging for his attention, that no longer muddles his afflictions between what is new and what is old, and a past that he can now move on from, with renewed finality.

you break the exchange with a breathy laugh. a smile stretches across his face. the one hand on his face turns into two and the same is applied to you sequentially. two twenty-one-year-old college students sit on the curb in front of a house that belongs to neither of them but rather lies in between their respective homes. they sit side by side, their eyes boring deeply into one another's and, with both hands clamped on the cheeks of the other, occasionally squishing to produce the silliest of expressions, they laugh and they imbue in the elation of being at peace with their entwined pasts.

when you stand first, brushing off the dust on your bottom, jeno, still sitting, catches your wrist and lets the quirk of his lips and a small, "thank you," express the lengths at which the conversation had gone in its endeavors to mend a somewhat dysfunctional relationship. but now in full functionality, jeno wonders if his feelings still persist.

and if there's one thing to tell him they do, that they're as present as ever if not more so than before, it's the way he blushes warm when you entangle his grip on your wrist into your hand, giving his palm a brief squeeze before you look down upon him with an enraptured smile of your own. he watches you take your leave and, in the blackness of night, he thinks you are the most personable being to have ever walked in his life. he thinks he wouldn't mind another seven years, though only if he was promised to have you by his side the whole while.

"you mind if i tag along?"

yeah, i mind. jeno clicks his tongue, "no."

"you sure?" hyuck edges him on, nudging his old friend with the end of the hose. jeno can only roll his eyes at that, taking the hose from him, "not like i have a choice if she brought you here in the first place." jeno, while watching you roll up the windows of your dirtied car, can't help but wonder why you had to bring this damned boy. he really thought that after such a heartfelt moment the two of you shared just the past night, you would have been more open to venturing into alone, one on one, time with him. he does his best to clip back the snarky tone that's just waiting to be let aloud whenever donghyuck speaks.

"so who do you think's gonna be third wheeling today? me or you?"

"you," jeno bleats with not a second to spare. though he's sure the boy means it all in good-natured fun, jeno's dead serious when he says, "guess we'll just have to see who prevails."

and that, oh dear, that is sure to bring out the competitive temper of the one and only lee donghyuck, winner of all games ever played. jeno knows he's perhaps just dug a hole for himself, a shovel in hand and all, because right off the bat, hyuck is off to hog all of your attention and very rarely does he fail with his witty remarks and his position as 'most recent best friend.' in fact, he's right in the middle of telling you what is sure to be the joke of the century when the idea pops into jeno's mind, a godsend.

he turns the knob on the hose to its fullest power before trudging off to the dial, his absence going unnoticed as you laugh at whatever hyuck has just said. donghyuck's turning to see if jeno has caught yet another point he's scored when he's met with a forceful discharge of water square to his face. it's four seconds of just standing there before hyuck remembers that he has the miraculous abilities of mobility, and upon moving out of the way in a terrible coughing and choking fit, the spray of the hose lands upon you.

jeno gives a squeal that's comparable to yours as you snatch the second hose from donghyuck's limps hands, his body now wilted rather dramatically across the hood of your car, and point it to jeno, dousing him full as you charge right at him. he doesn't move, to your liking and more because he feels bad for having just accidentally drenched you in freezing cold hose water in the dead of winter. the punishment he has willingly subjected himself to is also freezing cold, bone-chilling, and numbing to the core. but he doesn't mind it nearly as much when the gush of water hitting his chest stops and he runs a hand through his hair, clearing his eyes to reveal your smiley, smiling face that looks to be having way too much fun in the face of hypothermia.

he's left kneeling when the water clears and you are as well, though while he's kneeling from the sheer force of the deluge, you're kneeling out of laughter. trudging over to your spot a little ways from him, the blades of the grass of your front lawn beneath tickling the skin of his kneecaps, jeno blithely lifts a few stray and wet strands of hair out of your face, tucks them behind your ear. your laughter subsides into gentle smile, one that erupts into giggles recurrently, and jeno has the gall to steal a look a donghyuck, who has since recovered and is now staring at the scene itself, eyebrow cocked and a tongue jutting out his cheek in a challenge he gladly takes up on.

jeno returns from inside his house with the two towels he had his mom fetch, only two because in his eyes, it's only fair that donghyuck doesn't get one. needless to say, hyuck's displeased as he watches jeno pat and dry your hair as you sit, propped atop the hood of your car. jeno isn't all that surprised when his own towel gets stolen from his shoulder and the boy also props himself onto the hood, next to you. funnily enough, jeno's now the one who's displeased because you've taken the towel from donghyuck's hands and instead of using it to dry the damp ends of his own hair, like it was intended to be, you turn slightly and echo jeno's actions, but instead on hyuck.

and while jeno's nose scrunches in a distaste that only hyuck catches, his eyes seemingly everywhere all at once, you turn a tad bit further to the side to reach the back ends of hyuck's head of hair. jeno complains as your own head moves a little too far for his positioning and a hand leaves the towel to move you back into place. that meaning his left hand holds solid on your right thigh. that also meaning the sudden halt of your actions, jeno's too, as donghyuck simply stares, observes, analyzes, comes to a realization, and smirks.

jeno also comes to a realization that his hand is still, still on your thigh, shown in how his hand snaps back into the oblivion and beyond, and how the tips of his ears are exceedingly quick to flush a cherry red. his thoughts of just yesterday, 'get the girl!,' are now very much diminished as his stare fixates on the ground and the ground only, even as you ask for him to move a little to the right so you could slide off the hood, even as hyuck excuses himself to the guest bathroom, though his hand is quick to fish out his phone before he even enters the house. jeno's eyes are unmoving, even as time resumes around him, and even though he understands how crazed he must look in your eyes. he understands, but that's about it because it's nothing that can be helped.

you quirk a brow at the boy, eyes a flood of worry, and with those same eyes on him, lee jeno, in the middle of winter, begins to sweat. it starts at the palms, a sticky, tacky feeling but then he feels it creep at the back of his neck, coming in the form of a shiver of nerves. and although those two remain unnoticed, you bring a hand to his wrist to catch his attention because the beads of sweat forming along his temple have caught yours. "jeno, are you okay? you seem to be…"

jeno lifts his gaze from the floor, a feat no doubt, and brings his eyes to yours. there are many things he notes. one, the worry in your eyes irks him, he despises even more that he's the cause of it, however silly. two, your hand remains at his wrist, unsure in the lightness of touch but assured in how it stays put nonetheless. three, your lips, they're very pretty; an observation that he's always been aware of, but when your face is only a rough seven inches from his own, the observations become a fact, ingrained in his mind for now and forevermore whenever he so much as looks at you. though more unconscious, there's a four. he wants to kiss you. and in a way that's quite far from the simple, accidental brush of lips he'd shared with you just the day prior. it's significantly far, a dot in the distance.

he almost goes in for it.

"do you mind if i shower at your place? it's fucking cold."

you remove your hand from his wrist, jeno's fingers twitch in longing to reach after it. with your own fingers absentmindedly toying with the cinched waistband of your sweats, you shift your weight from one foot to another. remarkably, only your top half was drenched but that in itself was sure to trail little shivers up your spine. jeno avoids your gaze, feverishly, hand coming up to the nape of his neck. he mumbles a short, "sure," before turning upon his heel, leading into the house.

while hyuck is in the guest bathroom, you venture into the one through jeno's room which is noticeably cleaner since the last you were there. he tells you to wait there while he messes around in the bathroom, cleaning, but he leaves that detail out. one leg crossed over another, you bunch up the soaked hems of your shirt so as to not drip everywhere, standing there in apprehension and also halfway in the dark with the slatted blinds above his bed turned shut, the only source of light being the little that slips in between the slats. resolutely, you cross the room and gingerly lean a knee into the bed, reaching for the handle to twist them open. that's when you see it, slung upon the footboard of his bed.

that's also when jeno calls, voice distant and steps in a hurry as he pronounces, "i'll get you a shirt from my closet, hold up." but as he emerges from the bathroom, it seems that you have different plans. his eyes go wide as he sees the one, unfortunate garment he'd forgotten to put away this morning in your hands. yes, the bright green shirt from that one seventh grade math competition, with the now faded and very corny geometry joke proudly displayed on the front. it's that one that his mom asks him all the time why he never throws it out even though it's been years. he almost lets it show how he sulks into himself because they're his pajamas, and for a reason that he knows that you know and, to him at least, it's all the more embarrassing when you know. there's a lot of almosts today because jeno almost shits himself at the thing you say next.

"can i wear this one instead?"

the shy glint in your eyes and the light smile that glosses over your expression are all he needs to say, "sure," it comes out nonchalant but jeno is freaking the fuck out internally. you asking to wear that specific shirt suddenly made all the embarrassment garnered from it seem significantly less embarrassing.

he sits on the edge of his bed as the sounds of the shower going skirts his thoughts. feet kicking up and down, back and forth down the side, jeno sighs with his bottom lip tucked under his front teeth. he's directly opposite and in line with the one picture on the wall he couldn't dare put away in his prior and precautionary cleaning in the case that you would come over once again. the edges of the photo are frayed with time and brash handling, seen even in its frame, but if anything, the memory of it is intact as ever.

jeno thinks of all the things that would have gone differently, had he confessed to you that day as he planned he would. graduation day it was, and it was cloudy and on the verge of raining but his spirits weren't dampened in the slightest, clapping the loudest as you crossed the stage to shake hands with the principal, head awkwardly facing the crowd as your father had implored you to do so for his picture. his spirits were far dampened when you returned to your seat, a row ahead and a few down from where he was himself, mouthing a, "stop it," in annoyance as he mimicked your ungainly actions from just before. he felt that his spirits could never be dampened as he returned to his own seat, looking over in your direction automatically as you posed a thumbs up and another mouthing, this time an, "i'm proud of you," before getting caught by a passing supervisor and being forced to turn back around with a huff.

jeno remembers his spirits plummeting as he sat with you under the bleachers, for the last time, half his body situated on his jacket and the other on the scratchy grass. he didn't mind it as long as you were fully atop it yourself. despite what his quick wikiHow search on 'how to confess your love to someone,' there was no surge of confidence, not one stroke of it within him. he gave small smiles to your animated talking and the bare minimum of responses when prompted. and when you'd fished your phone out of your back pocket at the sound of a ping to see your mom texting you to go back to the field for pictures, he took your helping hand as he stood but even then, he couldn't dare be bold enough to keep your hand in his. with an arm set loosely across the back of donghyuck's shoulder and the other across yours, he made sure to hold you tight by his side, for fear and acceptance that this would be the last time he would have you there, by his side.

but as his gaze is pulled away from the picture, instinctively towards the sound of the door being propped open, jeno's reminded that, for now, you're all for his taking as long as he's up for the challenge. he watches as you linger by the door for a second, lip tucked under teeth yourself as you contemplate your next steps, next words. and as jeno watches, the shirt hanging tight on his figure but loose on yours, he can't help but think that this time around, he's in it to win it.

forms clutched in your left hand, all of them filled out in your neat, pencilled handwriting, you tap your toes impatiently. the line that you were currently in, placing at about the middle, was long and not at all to your liking. against your best wishes, your parents really had the gall to sign you up for this; you have foolproof evidence that math is your weakest subject, the foolproof evidence being a years and years accumulated stack of report cards. they claimed it was for you to get some extra practice and you'd countered that the annual math competition at your middle school was only really for the people in the advanced math placement, which you were most certainly not. you were still forced to go, though you declined the offer to buy the gaudy green shirt, but you were also right in saying that because none of the people in the line, at least of those in front of you, were from your class. you look towards the back end of the line to check the same so that you could provide extra evidence to your conviction, not that you were going to really need it after you took the test but you would like something to pair with your lacking results when rubbing it in to your dad later.

at first glance, there's no one really that you can spot but then you look at the person directly behind you and what you don't expect is it to be that one kid that is indeed in your class, your low level math class. he's quite the sight and you wonder why he didn't catch your eye earlier with his hair sticking up in all directions as he frightfully balances on one leg, his other hiked up and being used as a makeshift table. upon closer inspection, the paper he's furiously writing upon looks to be akin to your filled out form, only it's not filled out at all.

twelve-year-old jeno feels your gaze on him, and though he's verily preoccupied with writing, he's much more intrigued by your interest in him. head snapping up in a sudden movement and snarky in his greeting, "got something to say?" and it reminds you a little too much of hyuck to simply let it pass, "yes, i do." no, you actually don't so the empty pause you leave is in search of anything relevant. when you do happen upon something, your continuation is in equal snarkiness, "your hair's a mess."

at that, he stands up straight and you note how at the age of twelve, the boy is annoyingly taller than you, "shoot, really?" a hand rushes to pat down the straight strands in a hurry. a mild surprise lines your countenance at how the snarkiness ends there, watching as he furthers his comments, "i was in a rush this morning, that's probably why," and when you, again, have nothing to add, he goes to say, "renjun told me about this competition and i just had to do it."

now it's confusion that can be seen in your bewildered stare, you only knew about this since your mom is pta (parent teacher association) president; the competition, though advertised as open to all seventh graders, was only really promoted to the higher level math students, namely renjun and his lot. the kid, whose name you place to be jeno, friend of renjun's who's a friend of hyuck's, is now expectant in a response from you, less the conversations take a turn for the worse. you provide something short but enough to compose your inquiries, "why? who would want to do this?"

a part of you already knows. lee jeno, though you know little of him, sits at the front of your math class and never forgets to bring his glasses to school. a pencil is almost always in his hand when he raises it to ask a question at least ten times per lecture which is also the only reason you actually know of him because unlike him, you don't pay much attention at all in math class. jeno raises his eyebrows and replies as if his reasoning was common knowledge, "well i thought it'd be fun!"

"fun?"

"yeah!"

"fun how?"

jeno's standing complacently but his hands are making vague motions, "because you know…," a hands comes to the nape of his neck and he whispers as if his utterances were frowned upon for a lower level math student. to you they are indeed. "i like math."

"yeah no shit, you're the only one who participates in math." his eyes widen at your profanity, head snapping to see if anyone had heard. upon realizing something else, he motions for you to move forward, neither of you had noticed the line had started progressing onwards.

jeno's still on edge, eyes peering side to side to make sure no teacher had passed while you spat such a vulgar word, "shhh, what if someone hears you?!" a coy smile creases your eyes, you decide that you're certainly very fond of this boy, or at least you're very fond of teasing him. "then how about...damn?" jeno's startled. "ass?" jeno looks like he's on the verge of shitting his pants. thus you go on, "another shit?" the twelve-year-old's mouth drops wide open, "y/n-"

"asshole, dickhead, son of a bitch, mother fucker, your mom's puss-"

he's rushing right up to you and before you can proceed, jeno's hand is clamped tight over your mouth. "y/n, that's-" and as if he weren't already a close seven inches away from you, he leans in further and you swear his lips graze the side of your cheek as he whispers, "y/n, that's illegal," and suddenly and in your eyes, the humble, wide-eyed boy that you'd only thought to tease of has you floored with his gaze locked on yours, breath fanning across your skin. he looks good, even at twelve years, lee jeno is easy on the eyes.

you gulp, push him off, and turn back around to the line that'd moved up four people since the last you'd moved, leaving jeno to stand there, hands limp by his side and in complete neglectance of his still half-filled out form. it takes thirty or so seconds for him to move up in the line as well, the mutters from the people lagging behind him also going unnoticed. and when he does notice, taking a few steps forward and once again hiking his leg up to be used as a viable writing surface, it's only after he spent those same thirty seconds spaced out in aftershock of why he did that, or rather, where the sudden surge of confidence came from that had him in the position in the first place. perhaps that's the first time that jeno ever thinks of you a little differently, only because there's something about you makes it so he does things a little differently, makes it so he can't simply act normally around you.

and perhaps you've also undergone the same predicaments because you pay extra attention when the test is handed out, and the way your brows pull together with your eyes trained on the paper tells a lot about those normally divergent acts. you're the last to turn it in, even after the bookish jeno, and when he takes a glance at you across the room as he returns to his seat, a little smile creeps its way upon his lips.

the same smile is there when you plop down next to him in math class the following monday, right at the front of whiteboard, and there goes the tug of his heartstrings when you lean over, eyes in wonderment, to ask him a thing or two about hypotenuses or some of the sort which he more than happily obliges. jeno beams when you hold him back after class to show him your score on the unit final he'd tutored you for and he beams the year after that when the two of you both climb the ranks into the prestigious advanced level placement.

for many reasons, jeno proved to be a blessing in your life. your parents loved him specifically for the studiousness he instilled within you, something neither of you have ever pointed out but are in mutual understanding of. jeno was by your side through your traumatic first post-breakup stage, the douche of a boyfriend, or rather another twelve-year-old boy, had dumped your ass after two and a half days. jeno was the one who coughed into your ear during that one fateful game of telephone, the one played on the bus to the museum field trip; he'd defeated, and i mean absolutely crushed, donghyuck in a game of rock, paper, scissors to win the spot next to you, still a feat he considers one of his many prides to this day. jeno was the one who picked at your food, but also magically produced his own to share whenever you were without a lunch.

lee jeno was the epitome of right person, right time, and even though the same sentiments weren't carried all the way through, were interrupted, displaced, all the things he gave you, left for you, they stayed.

lee jeno remembers the day he met you with keen lucidity. he remembers all the days after that in a chorus of feelings that swept him in the most unintelligible way, after all, who expects to fall so deeply in love at the age of twelve. at twelve you'd think the thing you'd be most worried about would be having fun before high school, occasionally grades, or maybe even the changing appearances that come with puberty and puberty in itself. for a good chunk of it, jeno thought that his feelings could be explained by puberty but it proved especially ignorant of him to think the same in high school when his feelings that persisted were only sustained by the mere memory of you.

maybe it wasn't from day one, by no means was it love at first sight, second sight, or even third or fourth or fifth, but it was the succession of some inevitable process, the day you met through the day you graduated. to finish a thought, maybe lee jeno could have claimed spot as your boyfriend of seven years, had he not yielded in the face of profession. perhaps, you would have broken up already, the simple outcomes of distance and the natural order of relationships. would he have let you go? or would it have been you to call it off?

it's unfortunate that he'll never know, no matter how much he wonders, but of all the things he's sure of in the moment, it's that your laugh is the prettiest thing known to man, known to him. your feet dangle a significant amount over the edge of his bed, stark from his own toes that are stagnant and grazing the floor. he doesn't look over at you and his mumbles say enough of why, "i'm not kidding, y/n- don't laugh at me! i'm being serious, you really do."

"really now, you're telling me that i look good in your old pajamas. as if it weren't just to tease me."

"really!" his voice hits a pitch higher and he clears his throat, a scrunch of his nose at your laugh follows and denotes much regret in how he accidentally spoke his thoughts aloud in the first place. you really can't tell but he's trying his best to get in a few compliments, he'd heard that girls like flattery (he didn't hear, per se, he'd seen it somewhere online—read: wikiHow). "you look far better in it than i ever would."

with his hands on either side of him, jeno pushes himself upwards the bed, lowers his back upon the sheets, and folds his hands across his stomach. he didn't expect as such but you do the same. it's now that his heart sees it fit to speed its pace, only because of that one pesky thought that's infiltrated his mindset. you're in bed with him after all, and though it's nothing close to what would be considered crossing the line as two friends, the thought itself is enough to ignite a fervid warmth through his cheeks. his eyes are rigid on the ceiling when you speak, "do you even remember where this is from?" they itch to look over at you but he's afraid it'll be too obvious then; his plan is to woo you, not to make a fool of himself.

jeno senses the sheets stir from beside him and he can only guess what position you've assumed, and hopefully not the one where you're facing him while his everything is still aligned straight ahead. he hopes it's not because if it were, he'd be missing out on one of those *romantic moments* that he so wishes to achieve. jeno's inability to think straight, about positioning, hinders his ability to respond, something that's only brought to his attention when you perk up again, "jeno? did you hear me?"

jolted, his eyes instinctively snap to yours in the sense that yes, now he's facing you and yes, he sees that you're facing him also. there seems to be a little something lodged in his throat when he replies because it comes out as if his neck were a squeaky toy that'd just been stepped upon. "of course," he clears his throat with a grunt, "that math competition, seventh grade." jeno concludes that that something in his throat must be his heart because he can quite literally hear its beating in his ears and feel its thrum through his organs. he licks his lips and sits in silence, save the thumps of his heart, as his eyes trace to your own lips, not seven inches away.

"that's...that's when it all started," you muse, a hand coming up to brush a hair from your face and hitting jeno's chest on its way, as if just to remind him of how close you are. "i mean, for me that is."

pushing his rather uncivilized thoughts from his mind, jeno gives a, "what do you mean?" before dutifully returning to glancing at your lips. if you notice, you don't comment upon it, choosing rather to answer promptly, "i think that's when i started to like you." he gulps and says just about the same, "me too." jeno's nerves think they are just about ready for whatever is thrown his way but not until a leg of yours moves to nudge his gently. "wow, it's like we're meant to be." his nerves, they must be on fire now and just about ready to take on the whole world in its entirety because he notes with keen incredulity that your use of 'we're' could indicate that you still like him, the possibilities of it being an 'are' versus a 'were' are only fifty-fifty.

"yeah…," he trails off, misses the look in your eyes, shifts to land onto his back, eyes on the ceiling. you do the same and decide that it's enough of 'testing the waters' for today. but apparently jeno thinks otherwise because just as you're moving to sit upright, he spells a slither of his heart out for you, "you're my first love, you know."

jeno would like to pride himself in the usage of 'you're,' also vague and could be taken either way. upsettingly, he lacks the know-how to understand that what this situation needs right now is certainty to topple over the tension and teetering statements. he's a bit too used to hiding behind the veil of 'what ifs' and resting atop the net of safety to realize.

blinking up at the ceiling, you rustle to sit up once again, but not before donghyuck bursts through the door with an expression that sits pissed at first but melds into his signature leer as soon as he surveys the pair he's stumbled upon. "been looking for you two." jeno's shooting upright himself and all of a sudden, things are happening too fast.

there's two seconds before you're off and bounding towards hyuck as if he were your means of rescue; there's the, "what took you so long?" that slips from your mouth as if you'd been waiting for him all along instead of willingly giving jeno your time of day; there's donghyuck's phone that rests limp in his hand, by his side, but not yet clicked off because the screen gleams bright and it's showcasing jaemin's contact, a recent call most definitely; there's hyuck's response, muttered but in good humor, "i took a shit, that's why."

and then there's the sinking feeling that sets fire within jeno. maybe even jaemin as well but it's for certain and even further confirmed when hyuck's smirk makes its way to meet jeno's benumbed expression, his eyes locking with sickening devilry and the traces of a challenge. donghyuck knows. and though he's sure to take it upon himself to get the two of you together for once and for all, jeno knows far better, with experience in hand, that though his friend's sentiments are in support, his chances fair much higher when it's only him that's left to trifle with the dealings of his love life. only him, and his languishing confidence.

plucking a kernel from the carpet, you toss it into the bin over the arm of the couch. the paper towel on the same arm is used to rub off whatever dust had soiled your hand and it's returned to the bowl to rummage for another, slightly more buttered, popcorn. you wish that your mom was into those hallmark christmas movies, because in all honesty, you're quite the fan but you suppose 'rise of the guardians' ranks close enough. glancing down to the bowl in your lap for a second time, you groan upon realizing that the only reason you've been munching on the terribly unflavored popcorn was because you've already tired out the supply of the buttered ones. that enough gets you to set the bowl on the coffee table, done with snacking for the night as you pick up your two crochet hooks and get to work, your actions mirroring your mom's though she's a lot farther in her chain.

you suppose the movie is just about halfway through when you're sidetracked by how you've somehow messed up a turning chain, warranted though, as you're an amateur in the dark. it's a shame because you really would have loved to pay at least half attention to the very gorgeously animated character, jack frost, but are instead struggling. after reworking the chain a few times, you decided to give it a rest and set it aside as well. it seems that being a quitter is the overarching theme of today.

the sound of your head thudding against the back of the couch gets your mom to separate her attention as well. seeing your state, she opts to make conversation in the light that you're far from returning to the movie. it plays in the background, the only source of light in the living room. "how's the car?"

"clean." a sour mood you're in, it seems. your mom hesitates for a second before approaching a second question, "how's jeno been?"

"great. he's been great, mom." she sets down her crochet for the time being, the foot of hers that's jutting out of the blanket bouncing up and down. you doubt why you even tried to conceal your feelings with curt responses when really, you're unashamed in front of your mom. that's the sole reason why she deems it fitting to dig a little deeper, "anything you want to tell me?"

it's an, "of course," that has her crochet set in her lap for the rest of the night. you turn towards her in full, shifting your weight so that it faced her position on the armchair diagonal of the couch. sighing, you shove a tongue in consideration to the side of your cheek before pulling back the curtains a third of the way, "i think he likes me." your mother's eyes sparkle, she sets her hooks and yarn on the coffee table as well, urging you to go on with a nudge of her head. "but at the same time he doesn't?"

she nods in the processing of her thoughts, "so, mixed feelings?"

you nod along with her, "mixed feelings."

your mother never disappoints you when a situation of yours arises and she's bound to give you her advice, her very blunt, very to-the-point advice. "just ask him. i mean, if he rejects you, you're only going to have to see him for a few more weeks before you're back off to school."

and you never disappoint yourself when a situation of yours arises and you're bound to adhere to her advice, the very blunt, very to-the-point advice because as always, she's right. but then she muses on with the littlest care in the world, "or you could just mess around with him for a bit-"

"mom-"

"what's making you think i mean it in that way? did i really raise such a slu-"

"mom! oh my goodness-"

"i'm just saying," she drags on the word and you almost rush to interrupt her with another exclamation before noting her demeanor, her countenance in the dim light. you lick your lips in apprehension, vaguely reminiscent of salted butter. "i'm just saying...keep him on the hook for a little longer," her crochet reference is bad but you don't miss an opportunity to let a small smile show. it's gone the next second when she resumes with more to her thought, "really, take it slow. i doubt that he doesn't like you. i'm pretty sure he did back in middle school-"

"he told me he did, something about how i was his first love."

she's taking this a lot less seriously than you thought she would. it irks you to know why. your mother has her head propped on the palm of her hand, her weight on the arm of the couch, "then i'm pretty sure he's never had a second." your brows draw in, "why?"

"no matter how much i love you, y/n, i would never pay for your groceries, change your tires, haul your christmas tree, or wash your car after not seeing you for seven years. just think about it, seven years without contact is as good as being strangers." you watch as she pushes herself off the arm, off the chair, blanket falling aside. your mom takes your discarded bowl in her hands, her own crochet, and the tv remote before clicking the movie off. you watch her as she moves casually across the room and you hear her just before she flicks on the light.

"it's either that he likes you or that he's jesus, your pick."

it's a christmas rule, or at lease a rule that you and your friends go by, that if christmas day is for family, then christmas eve is for friends, hence why donghyuck had so cleverly gathered everyone in his basement on the very day, or night actually. he stops you with an arm just before you descend upon the staircase, "what'd you bring?" he motions towards the plastic bag clutched in your hands, the same one that'd bagged your groceries the other day (reduce, reuse, recycle!), but it instead carries, "pumpkin pie, i've come bearing pie," and hyuck removes his arm for you to pass before holding it up again for jeno, "and you, sir?"

"eggnog."

you turn back to see donghyuck give jeno the heartiest pat on the back, "now that sir, that's what i'm talking about." scrunching your nose in good-natured fun, you quip at that, "what's wrong with my pumpkin pie?" jeno's a step above you, hyuck on the step behind as he retorts, "nothing, it's just that jeno here remembered that we're very much legal." shrugging, you trod off down below, missing the way donghyuck holds jeno back for a second. firstly to ask, "brandy or bourbon?"

"whiskey, actually."

and secondly to ask, "so what are you waiting for?"

"huh?" jeno takes a step back up the stairs and away from the hustle and bustle of the basement where you might have lingered to hear what he thinks the conversation is steering towards. "or did you do it already?" he checks himself before jumping to conclusions, "what do you mean?"

hyuck's hand is impatient on his friend's shoulder, after all, it's been eight years and counting since he first discovered jeno's little secret, plus only a day since he rediscovered it. "did you ask her out yet?" jeno's about to disagree with him, partially out of habit, "i-" before he realizes it's for naught, "no, i haven't."

"do you perhaps, i don't know, have a time in mind?"

repositioning the gallon-sized jar in his hands, jeno's response rumbles deep and low for only him to hear, "yeah actually, i was thinking next-"

"next?!"

"what-"

"no next! you have to do it like- tonight!"

"what, why?"

hyuck isn't smirking but the look in his eyes is somewhat akin to it. "because…," it seems that he isn't up to letting his mischief spill for his answer is really quite lame, "because timing is imperative! remember what happened last time?" jeno doesn't let it get to him nearly as much as it should; his plan is foolproof and he's convinced that nothing of what haechan does should be able to catch your gaze tonight, or for the rest of nights. he leaves the boy at the stairs as he treads into the space, ready to take on step one. different plans await him as he draws nearer to the sectional, only to find that the one available seat next to you, at the far right of the couch, has been taken by jaemin.

awkwardly, jeno sets the eggnog on the table and takes the next best spot, the one next to the boy, squeezing beside renjun who gives him a glare and a scowl, "first time you see me in awhile and you decide you want to sit on me? really jen?"

jeno puts his whole heart into apologizing, "oh whoops, my bad," as he turns his body in your direction, and jaemin's, only to feel his stomach furl at how jaemin's body is also aligned with your own, effectively blocking him off. again, the awkwardness that's emitting from him is awfully discernable to renjun, watching the boy turn back around again and give him a sheepish smile, this time in actual contriteness. with step two out of reach and thwarted, he sets his sights on the eggnog. jeno's quite the simple man. his approach was simple. he was sure that simple would get him many places, unlike donghyuck's abundant and conflict-laden schemes.

his plans were simple in that, one: sit next to you, make sure that no one else sits next to you. two: talk to you, make sure that no one else talks to you. and three: ask you out, make sure that no one else asks you out. and that's how it should've gone! though it's certainly not how it's going.

jeno's left to pick up the pieces of your and jaemin's delightful conversation as the same boy reaches for the eggnog at the same time as him. retreating, he watches as jaemin fills a mug for you, then for himself. he listens as jaemin questions, "first time drinking?" pfft, even i know that.

"yeah, actually," it's because you're mom's strict. "my mom's strict."

"oh wow, so eggnog for a first must be kinda heavy, huh."

i wish that you would start with something lighter, just in case. "i know right, i wish that i could start out with something lighter, just in case. but i don't mind." i'll mind for you. if you can't finish it, i'll finish it for you.

"if you can't finish it, i'll finish for you."

with that, jeno's off to minding his own business because na jaemin is quite literally, stealing his spot, stealing his lines and it's evident that whatever he'd planned for tonight was simply, as simple as his plan, not happening. glare and scowl set into place, akin to renjun's earlier, he fills his own mug, only up to the halfway mark because his last glimmer of hope lies in when he walks you home later in the night. hell, he regrets just thinking that he should've just asked you out on the way here.

setting the mug down, he leans back in his limited space, arms behind his head and an elbow digging into renjun's space as well. the boy is about to comment on it when donghyuck finally returns from his room with the board game of choice this one christmas eve. "since y/n's here for the first time, i've decided to go with something mild," everyone, except you, is transported into the memory of last year when the now-snapped-in-half connect four contraption had bewitched them all into a death match (at least it wasn't raining and at least it wasn't on the rooftop), "so we're going with monopoly." jeno notes the smile that makes its way to your face.

renjun from beside him groans, "monopoly's boring though, ("-because you suck at it-") why can't we just play like-"

"i think it's a good idea," jeno announces rather suddenly, to which donghyuck rejoins, "and i asked neither of you for your opinions." he tugs off the top of the case and throws it back, "my house, my rules." although jeno wants to confront the urge to counter hyuck's sass, he doesn't because you look pleased at the game of choice, elated almost. but then there's jaemin beside you, commenting and remarking into your ear to further the little smiles you give and, change of plans, jeno decides that if he can't beat jaemin in winning your attention, he'll just have to beat him in winning monopoly.

the fake bills in his hands stack steadily as renjun, who'd been appointed banker, hands him, two hundreds, then another fifty. but with each increasing increment of jeno's money and competitiveness, jaemin's seems to dwindle as any inverse relationship would do as such. jeno seems to have forgotten that he, na jaemin, is the self-proclaimed 'least competitive person in the world' and how that held true in most any circumstance, including the case of girls or this case of boardgames. rather than narrowing his focus on winning, jaemin catered his role in the playing of the game to comedics. and while jeno dearly loves to hear you laugh, he finds it unfortunate that you find jaemin very funny.

he thinks he's had quite the night. the two rounds of monopoly, an hour each where he'd won both times but was also unrivaled both times, the movie marathon that followed suit (though is the word 'marathon' really warranted if only one and a third were watched?), and the grand finale, eight rounds of drinking games. certainly any singular event could have ignited a spur within him but after enduring all of them, paired with the fact that he was now mildly drunk, lee jeno is, to put it simply, not having it.

jeno undoubtedly has had a drink or two more than he should have because he sways a bit when he stands. he isn't sure but somewhere in the midst of seeing jaemin's hand rest casually on your thigh (missing the way you brush it off politely) and the way he seems to exclusively talk to you and you only (though your half-hearted responses are just out of earshot), jeno came to the conclusion that drinking copious amounts of eggnog seemed the best course of action. he also comes to duly note the looks that jaemin has been sending him, periodically. it's something along the lines of a smirk without the smile, a challenge set in his brow, and a glint of smugness in the eyes. drunk jeno is having exceeding difficulties in stripping down the implication of those regards, especially when his forefront train of concentration is currently being narrowed towards not tripping up the steps.

the jar of eggnog, now empty, is left behind on the table with the cumulation of also empty mugs and extra beer cans, soju bottles. your plastic bag and the aluminum container that held the pumpkin pie are long gone as well. you track your eyes down to each step of the stairs you take because if you look up, you'd be face to face with jeno's bottom. face to butt, really.

the night had ebbed, slowly but surely, into a mess. for whatever reason, you had minimal interactions with any of your friends except for jaemin, not that jaemin wasn't your friend, just that you had hopes of a christmas eve spent with the boy you talked the least to in the course of the night. the one whose bottom has just backed into your forehead. "jen…"

he pays no mind, perhaps doesn't even hear you at all because he proceeds to stumble around for a bit, taking another step down until you're forced to do the same, else your sanity be damned. both hands on the rails on either side, you suck in a breath. "jen, get your ass out of my face." and at that, the boy seems to get a grip on himself, tossing a dumbfounded, then staggered look back at you before straightening and taking the surest steps the rest of the way up to the utility room landing where donghyuck is seen to have been holding the back door open for the better part of three minutes. jaemin is there as well, lingering to see you guys off, you specifically, and jeno finds that same look being thrown at him, except this time he's slightly sobered up. the haze that had hitherto hindered him from thinking through his thoughts with clarity had cleared. he realizes what's off.

maybe it's the flashback, episodic memory style, to donghyuck's phone displaying jaemin's contact after intruding upon the little moment you'd been sharing with him, only a day ago at that. maybe it's that paired with hyuck's, "you have to do it like- tonight!" something that he'd brushed off but also made a lot more sense when put into consideration with the fact that jaemin's looks emanated of provocations, a dare of sorts. and that in itself speaks volumes of nonsense now that jeno's remembering that jaemin is the least competitive person in the world, not only to his own standards but to everyone else's. na jaemin, jeno's other best friend, wasn't deliberately trying to steal his (soon-to-be) girl. he was rather (rather infuriatingly) trying to rile up his dear friend into asking her out. bitterly, jeno notes that it's working; he's a great deal ticked off, even more so now that he's in the know, and his plans on asking you out have indeed been sped up to tonight.

so as jeno holds an unnecessary hand out to help you up the last few steps, a hand that you take with an apprehensive smile quick to form, he makes sure to give jaemin that same look he's been receiving all night. and while jaemin holds an elbow of yours to steady you as you slip on your shoes, jeno makes sure to take both sides of your open jacket and zip it closed, tugging the garment tight to your frame. he relishes in the feeling of your eyes on him, for the first time that night, as you bid your farewells to everyone else. jeno tries to hide a smile of his own as he says his goodbyes, eyes never leaving yours. he ushers you out of the house soon enough, the door clicking shut behind him and offering him the makings of possibly the confession of the century. he paces himself beside you.

hyuck's house is only four blocks down from your own, the only reason the two of you had agreed to walk there in the first place which was a seemingly good idea, if only you had considered the fact that by the end of the gathering it would be three forty in the morning, on christmas morning. the sky is dark, the moon itself offering little light in the presence of clouds, though the air is crisp as it is cold, nipping at the exposed skin of your face and hands. you shove those same hands into the pockets of your jacket as you shuffle along the side of jeno; just being by his side seems to provide a steady stream of warmth you're unwilling to stray too far from.

it's when the two of you cross the second intersection that jeno thinks to start up the little conversation that's been playing in his head for the last six or so hours. it's also then that an idea, though rather dumb, dawns upon you. your neighborhood circles around a fairly small lot, one with only a lawn of grass and a childrens' playground to earn it the title of being a park. a corner of your lips turns itself upwards as you grasp a hand on jeno's forearm, lightly steering him, "let's go sit on the swings for a bit, how's that?" and he complies, mind rerouting the scenarios of the conversation as the circumstances fluctuate.

the swings, a set of two, creak and groan as you kick up and back, the movement coursing the wind to whip cold across your cheeks. your hands clasp the equally frigid chains from which the seat you're on is sustained, the metal is sure to leave red streaks along the lines of your palms. jeno, who remains unmoving, merely looks on at you with a bemused and adoring gaze, his hands fisting and unfisting in his jacket pockets to retain their warmth in the case that you would be willing to hold them. a wide grin spreads across his features as he watches you dig your heels into the bark to stop, your giddy laughter quiet but perceptible to his eager ears.

with the last bit of momentum edging you on, you almost stumble off the seat. lunging forward with added force, your arms are thrown out on either side to maintain your offset balance. jeno startles at your actions as well, a hand of his own is flung out instinctively to steady you but the distance makes it so the closest he gets is your thrust out hand. he's holding your hand. and it jars him a bit because the sequence of planned events, the notecards by which he was dutifully following, are now jostled and out of order.

he's yet to let go of your hand and that's yet to leave your notice. you don't question it either but you look over just in time to see him gulp, his eyes on the ground before him. the second you revert your eyes, jeno speaks, "do you mind if i ask you something?" his hands are warm.

"go for it."

"i- i said yesterday that...that you're my first love." despite the weather, jeno can almost feel the sweat rush to his palms. he hopes it isn't noticeable and pushes on, "am i yours?"

jeno's banking on your answer to give a green or red light to follow through with all else, he'd phrased the question to deliver precisely just that. never more than now have the differences between 'were' and 'are' meant so much to him.

he turns to see a smile light your expression as you continue to stare into the ground and when he turns back, the fruits of his efforts are bestowed upon him. "yeah, you are my first love."

the green light has been given, jeno's palms are growing clammier by the second. he stands, hand still in yours, and pads over to where you're seated, the sound of wood chips crunching beneath his steps. jeno holds out his other hand and you take it. thumb rubbing over your knuckles, you find that jeno simply stands before you. the dark shrouds the two of you entirely but you make out enough of his features to see that he's smiling, blindingly, and it's in that moment where your mother's advice falls short because in all honesty, you have no willingness to 'take it slow.' you want him fast and you want him now.

"jeno, i like you."

his thumb on your knuckles stills. jeno isn't sure if he's falling or willingly lowering himself onto his knees because that's what's happening, though he's almost positive that he's come to a dead end on controlling his bodily functions. his mind, all those thought out scenarios of how this night could possibly pan out, every plan that's been enforced and redacted, it all short circuits because he's met with the one possibility that he thought unthinkable. you've confessed to him.

"you what?" jeno's looking up at you with what you believe to be wide eyes, they're beautiful to say the least. you give a squeeze to his hands. he almost jumps in response and in his sensitive state. with another five words, "i said i like you," and it feels as if you've decked him in the head with a chair, or ran him over with a truck, flew an airplane square into his chest. he squeezes your hands back, but harder and for longer as if to convey what he cannot possibly fathom into words in the moment. so he gives it two moments, maybe three or four, before he comes to grasp his bearings with a little more certainty.

but jeno can't bear to look you in the eyes. the thought of his sweaty, clammy hands in yours enough to render him an ungainly mess. with the bark digging sharply into his knees and beckoning for his attention, he doesn't think much as he drops his head into your lap. in fact, he doesn't think at all when he mumbles, "well, i love you," in such a casual manner, it's as if he were implying, 'hah, beat that.'

and you do. to add on to the shitload of emotions he's currently surfing atop of, you retract a hand from his hold and bring it to his head, fingers weaving in and out of his locks, back and forth on his scalp. the world of thirteen and twenty-one collide because when he looks up, you're the same, pretty, endearing middle school girl and the same enthralling, though stressed college student that he's been loving for so long—almost too long, for the length of time would have deemed incredulous and in vain had you not uttered in the second following, with your fingers laced into the curls at the foot of his head, "well, i've loved you for as long as i can remember."

jeno goes in for it.

his lips on yours, at first, are hot like fire on a cold winter night. they burn and they scald and they sear until the memory of how they meld in perfect unison with your own has seared itself into the forefront of your mind, riveted and ravaging your every thought. sequentially, the initial pang dulls in the trail it's blazed as your movements settle into the languid pace he's set, lips encasing your own repeatedly no matter how many times you part. on perhaps the seven or eighth time you've met your lips to his own, he stops, though his lips remain on yours, and he breathes, "if that's the case...," he suckles on your bottom lip but falls back before you can act on it. jeno brings a hand to the line of your jaw and traces his finger along it, tilting your head to his as they happen upon your chin. "if that's the case, then i guess i must've loved you since the beginning of time."

if christmas eve is for friends, then christmas day is for family.

and perhaps jeno can be filed under friends and family after all because when you awake on christmas morning, or rather afternoon, it's not to the knock on the door from your dad or the screeching of your mom but rather, to jeno's leg shifting atop your own.

"oops, didn't mean to wake you," is what you first hear and the sight of him, hair messy and without a shirt, is what you first see. the brightness of your room, evidence of how you'd forgotten to draw the curtains closed before going to sleep, is almost enough to get you to shut your eyes again but you don't because it's lee jeno who's in front of you, in bed with you, with his arms around you. you wonder how you even fell asleep the night before.

yawning as you speak, "how long have you been up?" he glances at your bedside table, "since nine," and you follow suit, only to see the time on your alarm clock spelling out a 1:04 PM. "shoot, did my alarm wake you?"

"it should've woken you too."

you let a chuckle out at that and he returns with a hearty laugh that reverberates through you. letting your head hit his chest, you mumble, eyes closing shut, "why didn't you just wake me up then?" jeno's glad that you're unable to see him in the position you're in because he's sure to be sporting a blush when he says, "because you're cute when you sleep."

"and so you just ogled at me for four hours?"

yet somehow, he's anything but embarrassed when he retorts, "oh believe me, i've been ogling at you for years." you look up at him once again to see that his eyes are already on you. jeno pulls you closer until your clothed chest hits his bare one. "why am i the one wearing this?" he eyes the bright green material of the shirt and shakes his head, "i thought i already told you that you look better in it."

"in this musty old green tee?"

"not just any musty old green tee. it's my most prized possession, means a whole lot to me."

a smile finds its way to your face, "then why do you wear it to sleep every night? wouldn't that like, i don't know, shorten its lifespan?" jeno only shakes his head a little more, "i wear it to sleep because i like going to sleep thinking about you, it makes me think about you."

"then do you dream about me?"

shameless as he never was before, he nods, "do you?" you shuffle your legs around with his a little more, "i don't even remember my dreams but i'm sure that if i did, they'd all be dreams of you." the smile on his face stretches wide, neither of you are sleepy anymore.

you move to get up but jeno holds you still. complying, you decide to further your interrogations, "does your mom know that you're here?"

"no, but she probably thinks i just stayed over at hyuck's or something," you hum along, figuring just about the same. "the real question is, does your mom know i'm here?" musing along, you can only imagine the look on her face when jeno trails behind you on the steps down to breakfast (overdue lunch), "no, but i'm sure she'd be more pleased than anything. she really adores you, you know."

"then she wouldn't mind it if i asked you out, no?"

good god, it's like the reciprocation of his feelings has made him out to be a whole different man. gone is the stutter-filled, wide-eyed thirteen year old boy who could not, for his life, lay out his love for the one girl he'd only ever had eyes for. in with this smooth little fucker that has you stuttering over your own words, "n-no, i don't think she would mind." and he seals the deal with a kiss, lingering his lips on your own and pulling your bodies flush.

jeno wishes that things never change, the shoulder stitch of his shirt falling far too low on your arms and far too high on his collarbones, the white paint of your car gleaming and his clothes doused with a hose or two, the eggnog drunk until words string incoherent and his ass is shoved unceremoniously into your face. jeno hopes to keep you by his side, to go grocery shopping with you instead of having to bump into you by chance, to throw out his trash and return to your house instead of his own, to feel the arm of your jacket brush against his as you walk side by side in the blackness of night, to be able to close the distance every single time because you were always seven inches too far; the prospect of you and him had been withheld for seven years too long and since the seventh grade too young. but now, with your forehead pressed to his, legs tangled in ways unimaginable, it seems that he has you all to himself for seven eternities on end, endlessly, forever, forevermore.

✧ end note — it’s ree here, and i hope you enjoyed my christmas gift to you hehe <33 as the new year comes into sight, i’d like to pass on to you some of that *good energy* and say that 1) i love you, very dearly. and 2) if you ever need anything, i’m right here for you, inbox always open. with sentiments as warm as ever, i am exceedingly glad to have been able to spend the latter third of this year with you guys. much more to come, rouiyan.

#neowritingsnet #neothestars #neo-constellations #neoculturecafe #jeno fluff #nct jeno #nct jeno fics #nct jeno scenarios #jeno x reader #jeno x you #lee jeno #jeno angst #nct jeno fluff #jeno scenarios #rouiyan fics #rouiyan writes

521 notes · View notes

peralta-guaranteed · 3 years ago

Note

Would you do any early peraltiago just hanging out being all new and scary but also comfortable and defintly end game.

Two weeks.

It's been two weeks since that chaos of a first date.

And, okay, he has to admit he doesn't have many relationships that ever passed that timemark to compare it to, but he's pretty sure none of the few who did ever felt like this. Or went to this level after less than fifteen days.

Amy was already in her pyjamas as she opened the door for him when he knocked on it after his shift, and he quickly shed his jeans and flannel for the comfort of shirts and boxers while she divided up the take away he brought on their plates. They'd chatted about their days at work, as if they hadn't sat across from each other when everything happened anyway, and Amy excitedly told him that the new book she'd been waiting on had finally come in the mail today, so that's what she pulled out when they settled on the couch and started the tv up. Her plate perched on her thighs as she scooched back on the cushions and started reading, and he was sure she didn't even notice half of the food she was shovelling into her mouth as her eyes stayed glued to the pages, so he kept a few bites of all the dishes on his plate to the side in case she'd later complain about not getting 'that perfect gyoza bite' she'd been craving all day.

And then the silence had started.

Well, it wasn't exactly silence. The tv was running some property show, and his phone would occasionally bling with a new message or twitter notification, and Amy had this habit of scratching along the pages every time she turned them. But it was quiet.

And quiet wasn't good, not in his mind. Quiet meant the suppressed rage after an unfinished fight hanging in the air, or soft sobs from another room while the cartoon laugh track from the tv tried to distract him. Quiet meant 'I'm done', in every bad sense of that phrase.

Quiet made him want to fill the empty space with as much noise as he could to drown it out.

But he knew how much Amy hated to be interrupted while reading. And what would be even worse than quiet would be her fiery stare up from those pages she was lost in, that piercing look that made him tremble long before they were even friends, when he'd receive it a lot more.

So he'd stayed quiet, too, set his attention to the new house the tv was currently showing and how absolutely horrid it was for that price range, while his mind worked overtime to convince him that maybe quiet wasn't so bad.

Quiet could be comfortable. There was no need for chatter between them anymore, and thinking back, it hadn't been needed for quite a while even before those two amazing weeks. They could sit and just be, enjoy each other's presence while doing their own thing, sometimes breaking through with a little Hey or a nod and a showing of a phone screen, or even the soft touch of fingers on arms to get the other's attention.

Amy's feet shuffle against him as if to prove that point, while she puts her finished plate on the side table without taking her eyes off of the book. He lifts them up when they hit his thigh, stretching her legs out straight across his lap and hearing the involuntary sigh of relief as her muscles unclench. She turns another page as his hands wrap around the fuzzy warm socks, press into the arch of them and start massaging.

Quiet can be good. Quiet lets him hear the soft noises she makes with every new press of his thumbs, sounds she herself probably doesn't hear. He knows them well from lying next to her in bed, when she's deep asleep and starting her little routine of whistles and peeps that are too adorable to be described.

Two weeks, and he recognises the sounds of her sleeping better than some police codes he's been learning for almost a decade. Two weeks, and they're just sitting there in silence, a whole evening spent on nothing but being together.

He looks up from her fuzzy feet to her face, still deep in the world of her book. At her usually perfect ponytail turned into a messy bun, no trace of makeup on her face, her lips being chewed on while she seems to hit a very tense part of the story. The light brown stain on the shoulder of her NYPD sweatshirt that he knows is from some coffee from ages ago and that she's been fighting to get out, but it's probably burned into the very DNA of the shirt by now. The soft curve of the thick fabric around her - knowing all about the even softer curves that hide underneath it too - down to that little tear in the side-stitch of her yoga pants, turning them from actual workout clothes into sleepwear.

No one, he thinks, not at two weeks or any other time frame, has seen her like this. Her family, maybe, parts of it - she wouldn't dare wear broken or dirty clothes in front of her mom, that he knows for sure.

She looks so beautiful without any pretense, he thinks. And something else, something that's been stuck in his throat for two weeks and needs to be swallowed down a whole lot longer if he wants to make this work.

Three little words that absolutely terrify him.

He’s not Rosa. He’s said it to more than just three people.

But not that many more.

His Nana and mom, of course, got to hear it a lot. Gina too, even though she sometimes rolled her eyes at it and scoffed. Charles, in a buddybuddy way. He’s dropped it as a joke or an oversimplification a lot, but that’s different, isn’t it? That’s not what it really means, when you say them like that, like a single statement.

Claire, the clever girl from NYU he met during his academy training, who Gina later ‘ruined financially and emotionally’ when they figured out she’d been cheating on him pretty much the entire relationship.

Sofia.

He knows now that that one maybe doesn’t count, either. It had felt wrong the second it had left his lips, even as he repeated it. It wasn’t really a feeling - it was a sense of panic, realising that things were going wrong, things were breaking, and he had to fix it, stop it, patch it up somehow, and the only thing he could think of was that. But it wasn’t true. That’s not how it was supposed to feel.

This. This, he thinks as he looks at Amy’s tongue slip out just a tad as she turns another page, this is what it’s supposed to feel like.

Like lying in a warm bath, feeling the water slip over your face as you slide under completely, every bit of your skin being heated. Like the complete absence of nerves, feeling like you could fall back at any second, because there’s always, without question, someone there to hold you up. Like that excited glimmer of joy in your chest, feeling like you’re embarking on a journey you’ve been planning for ages when all you’re doing is seeing someone you see almost every day.

I love you, he thinks and swallows it down quickly again. I love you and it’s crazy, it shouldn’t make sense, it’s been two weeks and also five years and also forever. I love you and I didn’t think this is what it feels like, I didn’t know it, I didn’t think I’d ever get to feel it like this. I love you and I know that is never going to change and I know there’ll never be anyone else, but if I say it now it will break and the quiet won’t be comfortable anymore. It will just be deafening.

-*-

She doesn’t consciously notice him starting to massage her feet - something that’s become too much of a wonderful constant already to be acknowledged every time - but she does notice when he stops.

She looks up, then, and notices Jake is staring at her with half-lidded eyes and a smile on his face, a smile that’s so soft and, as of yet, still slightly unfamiliar to her. She knows his grin too well, remembers all his guffaws, even knows about his truly excited smile, and by now also the soft turn of lips reserved for his mom and Gina sometimes, but this smile is still so new.

She doesn’t think anyone but her has ever seen it, either.

A realisation that makes her heart leap, then, completely pulled from the fantasy world of the book she’d been diving into back to reality. A glorious reality, really. Sitting here with Jake, her feet on his boxers, his soft cotton shirt clinging to his shoulders while his fingers press into her skin. That smile on his face, the smile for her, only for her.

Two weeks, and now that she thinks back, she’s seen that smile every day. Hitting her like a sledgehammer during her awkward stammers at the first few dates, making her stumble while walking through Central Park hand in hand. Caught in a funny selfie of them in front of some weird statues they found there.

They’d quickly shed the date-routine of outside and traded it for the comfort of their homes, though, and she’d excused it with the fact that they were more often than not exhausted from work, and spending time together was just easier in PJs and with trashfood than planning an outfit for a fancy restaurant. But maybe it was something else, too, something that didn’t need all the extravagance and facade of special dates. Something comfortable and sheltering and good.

Still, it maybe shouldn’t dissolve into completely ignoring him in favor of some stupid book.

“I can finish this some other time.” She says, softly, and watches the smile slowly fade from his face. “If you want to chat?”

“No, no.” He shakes his head, but also climbs over to settle against her side, his arms around her ribs and his head fitting perfectly into the curve of her shoulder, and that’s a mixed message if she’s ever seen one. “Keep reading. You’ve been waiting for that book for weeks.”

“It’s still gonna be here tomorrow.” And so will you, and the day after that, and the day after, and hopefully forever, she thinks, but she knows what’s more important as her fingers start carding through his hair.

“Read, Santiago.” He mumbles in a deep voice, and it makes her laugh, but she does reopen the book she’s been holding closed with one finger slipped in between the pages.

And so she continues, only half diving back into her fantasy world, the other half firmly locked in place by his hands sliding up and down her waist, his breath trailing over her skin down into the opening of her sweatshirt, his warmth radiating from her side all over her.

She can feel his warmth growing, and the breath calming, slipping down into that soft rhythm she knows well from her bedroom as his hands still. And when she looks down next, Jake’s eyes are closed, his face gone slack and his mouth open in a little pout as he starts those little rumbling sounds from his throat that she knows mean he’s far, far gone already.

She’s seen him asleep before their two weeks together, all balled up on the break room couch after a few overnighters, slumped into a chair or spread out over the uncomfy single bed in their stakeout holeout. She’s always been fascinated about this over-animated, noisy creature turning all soft and pliable and calm, his face morphing into an even younger impression of himself, if that’s even possible for a baby-faced adult like him. But it hits differently when it’s so much closer, when she knows she can make his eyebrows scrunch up and slacken again with her fingers scratching behind his ear.

They’ve only had two weeks, and she already knows aspects of him she never knew existed. She’s seen him at his best and his worst, and found both sides perfect.

Two weeks with anyone else, and they’d often not even seen her apartment yet. Two weeks, and she was still dressing up in outfits she didn’t even think about in her normal life, watching makeup tutorials online to perfect a smokey eye, making sure not to whine too much about her day at work and check off those interesting talking points she’d mentally collected instead while they ordered at whatever nice restaurant she’d picked for them.

Yet here she is, two weeks in, in the most ratty outfit she could find, her hair in desperate need of a wash and the feeling of a pimple making itself known on her chin, Jake in his shirt and boxers pressed against her side, softly snoring after the tough day they’ve both had.

She wonders why it feels so different, and yet not wrong at all, from all the other relationships she’s had to this point.

Maybe because it’s not as new as they make it out to be. Sure, their official relationship started almost exactly two weeks ago, but everything they have started so much earlier.

He was there when she created the coffee stain on her sweatshirt, dropping her head down with a grown on her table after they’d gone over the possible alibis after hours at her place for the hundredth time. He’d poked his finger into the tear on her yoga pants after a Sergeant-mandated work out with a laugh before she’d even noticed it herself. He’s held her hair back in even grodier states while she was kneeling over a toilet at Shaw’s, glad for their unisex approach for the dinky, dirty little closet they called WC that meant he could follow her when she stormed off from the bar.

Maybe that’s why she didn’t feel nearly as freaked out or anxious about their settling of the relationship as she would have if it happened with anyone else. He was already settled into her life, a comforting constant she could rely on. It wasn’t much of a leap from that kind of partnership to a romantic one, she reasons, obviously it would need less of an adjustment time.

And maybe that was just one of the reasons why it felt so right. Maybe there was something else, too, bubbling up her throat and slipping out into the safety of their silence right now, with him deep asleep on her.

“I love you.” She whispers, and she knows she’ll have to wait a lot longer to say that to his conscious self. She knows he’s difficult with emotions, and closes up faster than any wild clam if threatened with ‘seriousness’. And she also knows, with a twinge to her heart, that he has more than valid reasons for that - that he’s barely ever heard or said those words without them immediately crumbling in his hands.

“I love you.” She repeats, carding through his hair one more time to a soft sigh from him. “And it’s safe. I promise. It’s safe with me.”

His head turns, digs a little deeper into her shoulder, and while she knows she shouldn’t tell him yet if she wants this to work, she hopes he hears it at least a little bit. That it settles into his mind while he sleeps, makes him feel as comfortable and sure as she feels whenever she’s with him. Makes it a little easier for him to take that step and say it back some day, when she dares to try it out loud for real.

Whenever that is, she’ll be there. It’ll be worth waiting for, she knows, just to hear it again and again after that.

Hopefully for the rest of their lives.

#B99 #Brooklyn 99 #Peraltiago #Jake Peralta #Amy Santiago #my writing #ficlet #fic

69 notes · View notes

gimpfortetsurou · 4 years ago

Text

Beach adventure with Kuroo, Bokuto, and Oikawa

Warnings: established relationship with the characters, one prank (if you consider it a prank) on Kuroo’s part, aged up characters, curse words (maybe 2 of them)

Characters: Kuroo, Bokuto, Oikawa, f!reader

Genre: fluff

a/n: Hi everyone, sorry if this took a while. I was preoccupied with uni stuff. Anyways, thank you for your patience.

Kuroo Tetsurou

I swear this man will be so excited that you guys are at the beach.

When you change into your swimming attires he’ll be like flexing those muscles at you and be smug about it when he catches you staring.

But when you step out the changing room wearing your swimsuit, mans gonna be drooling. You can practically see the drool dripping from his chin and falling to the ground. h̶e̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶W̶H̶I̶P̶P̶E̶D̶.

When he catches some guy staring at you and your bod, he’ll snake an arm around your waist and will stare back to that guy.

He’ll most likely pick you up and carry to the water and go to deep part of the beach then laugh at you if you cling to him cause u smol. Your feet can’t reach the bottom.

“Oya? What’s wrong kitten? Can’t reach the bottom?” Kuroo asks you and that familiar hyena laugh escapes his lips.

“Shut up you bean pole, not everyone is born tall you smug rooster!” you snap back at him.

Being the playful person he is, an idea pops in his head that you swore you could see a light bulb appear on his head. He turns to you with that smirk of his.

I’m in danger.you thought to yourself.

And your intuition was right, he went under the water dragging you with him and you were not, I repeat, NOT ready so you drank some water. You were gonna give him a piece of your mind but something stopped you.

The sight of your boyfriend with his hair down due to the water. Damn, he could practically see the stars in your eyes twinkle. It was just so rare to see his hair like that so you just stared at him, forgetting the irritation you felt from before.

“If you keep on staring at me like that, I’ll probably melt before the heat can do it.”

“Can’t help it Tetsu, it’s not like I can enjoy this look of yours every day.” You reply with a gentle smile.

Bokuto Koutaro

A topless Bokuto in his swimming trunks, you gonna be screaming itadakimasu on the top of your lungs cuz y not? With those beefy arms and those thighs. DAMN

Mans gonna be elated that you both have time to go on vacation with him being a pro volleyball player and with you being a marketing manager in the company you work for, you both are pretty much busy with your careers so having a vacation with just the two of you was absolutely precious.

I tell you that when he sees you in your swimsuit, he gonna hype you up and when he mentions how good you look, your confidence level just shoots up the roof because that’s how he really is. He can make you feel so empowered whenever he compliments you even when you do miniscule things.

I feel like he’ll suggest that you guys go scuba diving because he is a baby owl who wants to see the tiny fishies swimming about.

You can’t bring yourself to reject his suggestion because you can see the glimmer in his eyes plus, it’d be a fun activity to experience with your boyfriend.

“Really? Can we really?” he asks in confirmation just to make sure that he wasn’t hearing things.

“Yes Kou, we can go scuba diving.” You confirm him.

So here you both are, preparing yourselves to go on scuba diving. You have a scuba instructor to guide the both of you and accompany you in your dive. He explains all the details to the both of you and when you are ready, you guys jump in the water and begin your experience.

You go hand in hand with your boyfriend because he said that he’s afraid that you’ll get lost if he doesn’t hold you so you complied, unsure if it was just an excuse to hold your hand all the time. You guys just marvel at the sights before you, the school of fishes that was swimming before you, the colorful corals that you saw, and that eel that you’ve spotted. Everything was absolutely breath-taking and before you knew it, it was time for your experience to end.

When you guys return to the land, Bokuto won’t stop telling you the things he saw and felt when you were scuba diving. And you just sit there and listen attentively to your boyfriend while looking at him lovingly because you just find him so adorable and so pure.

“I love you.” You suddenly blurt out.

“I love you too, baby. Thank you for going on vacation with me, it means a lot.” He replied

“I’d follow you to the moon and back, if it means being with you Kou.”

With that statement, Bokuto melted and hugged you, knocking the air out of your lungs.

Oikawa Tooru

You are both in a beach resort because it wasn’t often that you are with your boyfriend with him being a pro volleyball player in the Argentinian team so you decided to spend your time together on the beach.

I swear Oikawa will probably say things like “Oh how beautiful the beach is, but not as beautiful as me right y/n-chan?”

Will not stop proving his point until you agree with him, but let’s be honest here. He really is beautiful.

So you were chilling on your respective chairs with a few refreshing fruit shakes on the table in the middle of your seats when your boyfriend saw a group of people screaming while riding the banana boat and as soon as the boat dragging the ride took a turn, all the people riding it were flung to the water.

Oikawa turned to you with puppy eyes and you can guess what he was thinking.

“No Tooru, we can’t.” you told him before he could even peep a word because you can guess that he will ask you if you guys can ride the banana boat.

“But y/n-chaaaaaan, it’ll be so much fun. Come ooooon.” He pleads you with those puppy eyes.

“I don’t want to be thrown into the ocean and not at that speed. We can’t Tooru.”

“But this is one of the few moments that we spend together, after this I have to go back to practicing with the team. Can’t we go on the ride and enjoy ourselves?” He reasoned with you.

Sure enough his reason was acceptable since you guys don’t see each other enough plus, you almost never go to the beach whenever you two meet. After some consideration and a few nudges from your boyfriend, you finally agree.

You were putting on your life vest and mounting the banana boat with your boyfriend when you were having second thoughts, but all of things that were running in your mind were discarded and blown by the wind when you saw the excitement painted on your boyfriend’s face. You didn’t have it in you to break his heart and turn his smile into a frown.

You felt the ride being dragged by another boat so you held on tight so that you won’t embarrass yourself by being the first one to be flung into the ocean. You managed to stay on the ride while the boat made a few turns and a lot of people were thrown to the ocean by now. You were laughing crazily with your boyfriend because you both cannot believe that the two of you survived.

“We conquered the ride y/n-chan, I told you this would be fun!” He beamed at you.

“Much to my surprise, it is exciting Tooru. Thanks for talking me into this.” You admitted.

“In your face banana boat ride! I survived!” He said while T-posing on the ride.

The ones operating on the other boat must’ve heard him because the second Oikawa said those words, the banana boat started to move and when it reached enough speed, the boat made a sharp turn which threw the both of you from your seats and into the water.

With the life vest keeping the both of you afloat, Oikawa swam towards you.

“You know what I take it back, swallowing salt-water isn’t worth it.” You told to him.

“It wasn’t my fault, the staff are just petty.” He pouted.

You both stared at each other before laughing at the competitiveness of your boyfriend and the people operating the boat.

#haikyuu!!#oikawa torū #oikawa x reader #kuroo testuro #kuroo x reader #bokuto koutaro #bokuto x reader #haikyuu fluff #fluff

107 notes · View notes

mymelodyheart · 4 years ago

Text

Miles Between Us Chapter 15 ~Etched On Wood~

Previously in The Element of Surprise

Annalise perked up at Claire's feeble attempt to sound less grumpy. "Har de har har! I didn't realise you could be funny before coffee. A total package for a marauding pirate if I may say so."

"Tell that to Captain Beard," she mumbled, getting out of bed.

"Aye, matey!" Annalise mischievously winked. "That's if he happens to be in Isle of Harris this weekend. Which is where, by the way, we're going, as in, now! So get packing!"

Claire stilled and shook her head. "Wot?" She began to shake her head, tugging the covers around her as she made her way to the dresser. "Oh no, no, no! I'm not leaving this place for any man or woman, including you, blondie! I've got a pile of work to do. You know I have deadlines."

"Oh no, you don't. You stop right there, missy! Have you forgotten you agreed with Jamie to take a weekend break?"

Claire's eyes widened. "Oh, did he also tell you how he got me to agree?"

"No. But you can tell me later on the plane."

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

Tumblr link

Claire stood in the quaint wonderland of whisky, gin and assorted spirits, also known as The Island Spirit Whisky Shop. One side of the store was given over to the whiskies, while numerous craft gins and spiced rums were on the other. Absently, she touched one of the bottles of liquid gold, mentally calculating how many bottles she could fit in her small luggage to bring back as presents. When she heard laughter, she glanced up to find Annalise sampling a dram with the owner, effectively ending her dithering and opting to grab just a bottle of single malt in front of her instead. They'd just arrived in Stornaway over an hour ago and decided to put her gift shopping spree on hold .

Annalise raised a whisky glass and winked. "You better start getting busy. Our driver isn't going to hang around and wait for us all day. Found anything you like?"

Claire approached her friend and showed the bottle. "Aberfeldy, sixteen years old. For us tonight."

"Very nice. Glad to see you warming up to this trip for a change. How long has it been since you last checked your phone for Jamie's message?"

"Five minutes," she replied, scrunching her nose at Annalise for bringing up the sore subject. She handed the bottle and her credit card to the shop owner before facing her friend. "I've sent Jamie a message, and he hasn't replied yet. He's got some explaining to do ...sending me away like this with too little notice." She let out an unladylike grunt. "Why can't our men be here? We're in a beautiful location ...romantic even ..." She waved a hand in the air to prove a point. "I don't understand why you're not so bothered not spending time with your boyfriend when you rarely see him, and you're only here until Monday."

"Oh, poor us girls! Without our men! God help us!"

Claire fought a smile. "Hey, now, if I recall correctly, I had to listen to you moan endlessly about not seeing Willie enough. What was that again, you said just a week ago over the phone?" She tapped her chin and pretended to go through her memory bank. "You can't stand living without him."

"Correction, missy. I told you I couldn't stand living on my own in London. Which means I'm not used to not having you around."

"Ah, my mistake. Must have misheard that part." Annalise snorted a laugh and went to grab a bottle of gin from the shelf, leaving Claire once again to thoughts of Jamie. Any day now, John would summon her back to London, probably with Mary Hawkins and Tom Christie in tow. Though she dreaded going back, she'd placated those thoughts by telling herself she'd be moving to the Highlands soon.

Despite the valuable inroads to their relationship, Claire wondered if she would have given up London and her job so soon, supposing that Jamie hadn't had PTSD. Would their relationship have moved this fast? She immediately quelled that thought because deep down, she knew in her heart whatever their circumstances might have been, they would have chosen to be together whether it was too soon or not.

She glanced once more at her phone, inwardly debating whether to call Jamie or not. What the hell is he up to? She hadn't heard a peep from him since she'd left the cottage. Something was definitely up, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

"So, this work of yours is moving along fast. I bet you can't wait to start your life in the Highlands with your love, no less. So, what's the plan? Are you and Jamie buying a bigger property together, or will you be staying in the cottage to see how the relationship pans out?"

"His cottage for now. As for what lies ahead, we haven't talked about that far into the future yet."

"Quite right. Future planning is tedious, anyway. It's pretty obvious you and Jamie are meant to be together, no matter what. I saw it coming from a mile away. The way he looks at you ...you can literally see smoke coming out of his ears." Annalise comically waggled her eyebrows as she eyed the other sample bottles on the counter.

"Well, since we're talking about the future and wotnots," Claire began, lowering her voice, "I have been doing a lot of thinking myself. For starters, I want to have Jamie's babies one day."

Annalise's eyes widened.

She frowned. "Wot?"

"Babies?"

"Yes, babies." When Annalise continued to stare at her, Claire groaned. "Not now, though, silly! Our relationship might be going at full speed, but God ...I have other plans in mind before that happens."

"Yes, I get that ...but ...but have you and Jamie talked about babies?"

Claire gave the store owner an apologetic smile and pulled Annalise into the alcove by the window. "No. As I said, we haven't talked anything about the future. What's wrong with you? I know it's too early to be talking about babies, but everyone knows where our relationship is heading to. Eventually, somewhere down the line, starting a family would be the next step. Or did you think my move to the Highlands is experimental?"

"No! Of course not! It's not that ... it's..."

"It's wot?"

"I, ah ...the babies part."

"Jesus, Annalise, what's your fret about babies?"

"There's no fret!"

"What is it then?"

"I, ... I'm not sure if I should be the one telling you this, but ..."

"Tell me wot?"

"I thought you knew because why else would Jamie ..."

"Know what? For God's sake, spit it all out! It quite apparent you know something."

Annalise shook her head and sighed. "It's something Willie told me. It was right after when Jamie started to remember bits and pieces about his past. Willie thinks Jamie may have been deeply affected by what he'd learned. You know ...him witnessing your parents' death and you becoming an orphan at such a young age." She puffed out a breath. "Jamie confided to his brother that ...he doesn't want to have children because he doesn't think he'd be able to bear it if they would go through something as horrible as what you've both been through. I know that's not really Jamie talking, and I understand those fears are coming from a place brought about by his condition. Maybe it's something both of you should talk about. I thought Jamie might have already mentioned it."

Claire paused for a few heartbeats, absorbing Annalise's words. Should I be worried? A part of her knew it was his PTSD symptoms amplifying those fears in Jamie's head. The other part, she wasn't too sure. But he'd made so much progress, she thought. She waved a hand in dismissal and let out a humourless laugh. "Oh ... don't worry about it. I'm pretty sure Jamie didn't mean to say that in its entirety. You know how men are like ...they tend to have reservations about children and stuff like that in the beginning. Besides, he understands how his condition affects his reasoning, decisions and emotions. He's very aware of that. He told me so. So him saying not wanting to have children is not a projection of what's truly in his heart." She gave her friend a reassuring smile even though a smidge of uncertainty was starting to creep in. "Jamie and I are in love," she said with all the conviction she could muster. "And we've proven that with love, we can achieve anything. As for his current views about not having children, they will eventually change. After what he's been through, it's understandable he'd be worried about history repeating itself. He's slowly but surely recovering, and as soon as the new therapist arrives, it can only get better from there. I'm quite sure of it"

"Claire ..."

"There's nothing to worry about," she said firmly this time.

Annalise grabbed her hand. "Claire ...I have no doubt that he loves you. Even a blind man can see that. But think about this. What if ...what if he can't give you what you want? I mean babies. That's what you want one day, isn't it?" When Claire nodded, she continued. "You should talk to Jamie about your dreams of having children one day before moving here to Scotland. I don't want you to invest your time and emotion in a relationship that will probably end in regrets. I like Jamie, and I love you, and I love the love you have for each other. But I don't want to see the both of you hurt ...just because you failed to see each other eye to eye. Please promise me you'll talk about this with Jamie before turning your life upside down and moving here to Scotland and start playing house. There's a lot at stake here, Claire. Please, just talk to him. At least you know if you're both on the same page or not."

"Fine. I'll talk to Jamie. But under one condition." Annalise nodded in response. "If we're going to have this break together, promise me to refrain from any more baby talks."

"You started it."

Claire sighed. "Yes, I did," she admitted. "But it ends now."

"Alright, but I'm only going to say one more thing and then we can go back to holiday mode." Annalise made a broad gesture. "I can see that our little talk rattled you a bit. And don't you dare deny it!" When Claire shrugged and made a gesture to carry on, she proceeded. "I just want you to know, despite the uncertainties you may be harbouring right now, ...thanks to my big mouth, nothing changes the fact that Jamie loves you. I'm sure after you've talked, you'll arrive at some compromise about this baby thingy."

Despite herself, Claire laughed out loud and rolled her eyes. "Holy hell, we sure are a bizarre duo, aren't we? Poor Jamie. Here we are talking about babies when he probably hasn't even thought about marriage. If he could hear us talk right now, he'll probably put me on the next flight to London."

Annalise looked at her sheepishly. "Or perhaps not. Shall we get going?"

She raised a dubious eyebrow at her friend. "Hey. What's that look for?"

Annalise wandered back to the check-out counter, laughing. "That was my wise, venerable sage look. You like?"

"No, knock it bloody off!"

..........

Jamie pressed the cold pack against his throbbing eye and tried unsuccessfully to tamp down his irritation at Quentin. Stood in the cottage's open space lounge, which comprised the kitchen and dining area, he turned away to face one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. For the first time, he noticed the stunning vistas before him. Looking out to the south, there's the view of the village and valley, and the west the vast, beautiful beach, and to the north, the rolling hills. Under normal circumstances, he would have enjoyed the sceneries, but the crunching sound of Quentin's meat mallet on walnuts might as well have been a tree stump grinder splintering his skull.

"Do ye mind?" Jamie muttered, turning around to glower at Claire's uncle. "That godawful sound is making my headache worse."

"Stop whingeing." Quentin didn't bother to glance up from the chopping board on which he seemed resolved to make continuous head-splitting rackets. "Because of you, I haven't eaten all day. What kind of boys' trip is this anyway? There's no food or booze except for the bottle of expensive champagne... these walnuts ...and that ..." He jutted his chin at the fruit basket and shook his head in disgust. "Sorry I can't accommodate your headache." He watched the walnut shell fly across the counter when his mallet hit the chopping board. "As for the black eye, I'm sorry about that too."

Willie chuckled from behind his open newspaper as he lifted his feet to rest them on the coffee table. "Everyone will now think Claire dropped one on ye. How did it happen again? I didnae quite catch the whole story since both of ye were too busy grumbling at one another when I arrived."

Jamie glared with one eye. "As ye've already gathered, Quentin did this." He pointed his index finger at the evidence and adjusted the cold pack with a free hand. "And I cannae for the life of me understand why it was supposed to be a good thing."

"I told you already ...we had a bit of miscommunication," Quentin shot.

"Miscommunication?" Jamie sputtered, throwing a hand in the air in disbelief. He spun around and faced Willie. "I said to him if I start having one of my panic attacks on the ferry..."

"...you wanted to be knocked out," Quentin interjected.

"Jesus Christ! I never said that, and I wasnae having a panic attack. I was feeling queasy."

"Yes, so queasy he turned green," Quentin added, hammering the walnut with more force this time, making Jamie flinch at the offensive sound. "And here I thought he was having a panic attack. He never mentioned anything about being prone to seasickness. So when he started to act all weird on me, I decked him."

"On my eye of all places!" Jamie shouted, slamming the cold pack on the kitchen counter. "When I said I'd knock myself out, I meant I'd take my medication and sleep it off in the car." He pointed a finger to his eye. "Look at this ...I look like I participated in a pub brawl."

Willie glanced up before turning a page of the newspaper. "Aye, that ye do."

"Well, you should have told me more about your condition," Quentin stressed, pointing the mallet at him. "How was I supposed to know what a panic attack looks like?"

Jamie blew out a breath. "Even if it was a panic attack, what made ye think socking me on the eye is the answer?"

Quentin shrugged. "I guess I get panic attacks too, ...now there!" When Jamie turned away in frustration, he pressed on. "Look at the bright side ...I got rid of your seasickness and saved you from having a relapse."

"I told ye already I wasnae having a panic attack, and I havenae had one for some time now!"

"Hey, may I remind you that I offered to drive Claire and Annalise to the airport and fly in later as Willie did? Your brother would have been in a better position to deal with your condition. I know you wanted to talk more about that bloody bench, but ..." Quentin shook his head as if remembering something. "Say ...I still don't understand why we haven't gone altogether. All this palaver with keeping this whole thing a secret and Willie taking the next plane after dropping off the girls." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "Another thing, no one's told me yet where the girls were heading to."

Jamie gave his brother a warning cough.

Willie sighed and lowered his newspaper. "The lassies are somewhere having fun. Anyway, ye'll be getting yer wish granted. Ye'll be flying in my place when we return back to the mainland. Jamie told me CalMac ferries banned ye for a year."

Jamie bit back a smile at Willie's smooth change of subject.

"So Jamie told you." Quentin popped a walnut in his mouth. "Did he also tell you he didn't even try to explain to the police that it wasn't my intention to knock him out cold? That my intention was to help."

Jamie took a slow breath. "How could I? My head was still reeling from your punch. The police could only take in reports from eyewitnesses."

Quentin cast the mallet aside and flattened both hands on the counter. "All right, all right ....never mind that. What's done is done, and I apologised already." He paused for a few beats and frowned. "So ... what's happening now? Why are we sitting around in this cottage when we could be organising some grub and booze?"

"Just hang fire for a little bit more." Jamie took out his phone and pretended to fiddle with it. It was becoming more difficult to distract Quentin by the second, but he needed to do this right if his plan was going to work. "The landlord is supposed to stop by. It shouldn't be long now."

"Well ..." Quentin glanced at the wall clock. "If the landlord doesn't come anytime soon, I'm going to find the nearest pub. I'm starving. And don't tell me to eat fruits. I want a proper hot meal. And I need a drink after the morning we had."

Not happening! Jamie couldn't have him doing that. "Look, dinnae start lining yer imaginary shots just yet. Pubs open much later here. Maybe while we're waiting, ye can show me that bench we were talking about." He gave Quentin a meaningful look. "Remember? It's one of the reasons why we came here for. Ye've delayed it long enough bashing those walnuts."

Quentin lifted an eyebrow. "Can you blame me? If we'd eaten first, we wouldn't be having this discussion, and we could be looking at that bench already. As it stands, I have to settle for walnuts. Besides, can't the bench wait? You said this trip would be entertaining. And smashing walnuts is not my idea of entertainment."

Jesus, why does everything have to be difficult with this man?

Willie finally took pity on Jamie as he regarded them both with a mixture of impatience and amusement. "Look, I ken ye're both a bit on edge and didn't have a good start to the day." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "I know ye're hungry, Quentin, and I know yer eye's in pain, Jamie, but bickering at one another is no' gonnae help yer cause." He clasped his hands and gave Jamie a knowing look. "Why don't ye both go and look at that bloody bench while I wait here for the landlord. That way, we're getting something done. Fair enough?"

"Fine." Jamie and Quentin said simultaneously.

Willie's head briefly fell back, and he heaved a relieved exhale up at the ceiling. "Finally, they agreed on something."

Quentin ignored Willie and looked at Jamie. "Right, we might as well." He made a sweeping gesture with his arm. "If you'll follow me," he instructed before heading for the front door.

Jamie glanced at his brother, who just nodded and returned back to reading the newspaper. Rolling his head on his shoulders, he followed Quentin out of the house and to the back garden.

Halfway, Quentin glanced back at him. "So ...about that bench, you still remember this place?"

"Only vaguely," Jamie responded quietly, overcome with acute nostalgia as he began to take in his surroundings.

The last few nights, while Claire had been cooped up in the shed doing edits, he and Quentin had been trying to piece their history together, mostly to help Jamie understand the past. It had been a frustrating feat at best for Quentin, trying to unravel Jamie's memories as a toddler that they'd almost laid the past to rest. Until Jamie had mentioned a bench with engravings in a garden of a coastal retreat, he'd once visited as a wee bairn. To his astonishment, Quentin had immediately known the place. The more they'd talked about it, the more the memory of that day made sense and became vivid until an idea came to Jamie's mind ...to use this trip for his plan.

When they reached the back of the house, they came to a stop, and there in the middle of the freshly trimmed lawn was the bench. Fragmented images began to flood Jamie's brain, colliding together to form a vivid picture. As if being pulled by an invisible force, he made his way towards the seat. Laying a hand on the surface, he caressed the weather-worn wood, relying on his heart to know what to search for. When he found the familiar yet foreign carving, he knew he'd made the right decision to arrange this trip. "Here it is."

Quentin stooped down beside Jamie to take a better look. "Jesus, it is really here," he whispered. "Just as Henry told me." He glanced at Jamie. "And you remembered. How old were you when you were last here?"

Jamie sat on the bench and briefly squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, he took a deep breath. "At the most, I must have been four. It was summer. My ma needed a break from us boys, so Murtagh took Willie and me on a trip here to visit Harry. Jenny stayed behind. I cannae mind what Harry was doing here, but I do remember him showing me this when my godfather disappeared into the house." His fingers traced the engraving. "I never understood then what it meant when he read it out to me. He'd told me it was our wee secret."

"It was a secret, alright. Henry wouldn't have wanted Murtagh to know."

"Aye, I sort of caught the gist of it then even though I was too young to understand."

Quentin spoke with a distant look in his eyes. "Henry told me everything that happened that day and how it had been difficult for him to keep their trip here a secret from Julia. It was supposed to be a surprise."

Jamie couldn't help laughing out loud. He knew the feeling. "Aye, I can imagine," he replied, hoping Quentin would finally take the hint and see the real reason behind this trip.

"Did you know Henry had always wanted a son for his firstborn?" Quentin asked out of the blue. "Don't get me wrong, though. Claire was the light of his life, and he loved her. So much so, he would stare at her for hours while she slept. So Julia told me anyway. But he'd always said he wanted a son. I think it had something to do with him spending a lot of time with you and your brother during the summer, even before he met Julia." He smiled at Jamie. "He had fond memories of you and your brother, and it was very apparent from the stories he told me of you."

"A son," Jamie murmured, shifting on the bench as another memory popped up. "Aye, he'd mentioned something about wanting a son. He used to joke about having one, one day ...a strong lad like me were his words." He got up from his position and scoured the seat once more with his fingers and eyes, trying hard to remember where the other etching was. "I seem to recall myself asking Harry what if the baby turns out to be a girl. I cannae mind his reply, but he told me to pick a girl's name because he'd already had one for a boy. After I picked one, he carved both names we came up with on this bench ... it's here somewhere."

"Really?" Propping his specs on his nose, Quentin hunched over and began to search. "Can you remember the name you chose?"

He shook his head. "I probably came up with something daft ...like some cartoon character Jenny used to watch. "

"Or perhaps not." Quentin hunkered down, gliding his hand over the wooden surface of the edge of the bench. "Take a look at this." He stood up and took a step back to allow Jamie to see better.

What Jamie saw next took his breath away and only confirmed that niggling feeling in his guts. It hadn't been a misplaced memory nor a dream. He unseeingly watched Quentin squat down again to take a better look at the engraving, barely able to formulate words to express his emotions over the thoughts running through his head. Was this Harry's way of sending him a message ...a blessing of some sort? Or was it just some quirk in the universe, and everything had been purely coincidental? If it was the former, he'd been taken on a merry rough ride, and he could almost envision Harry's delight at his handiwork, watching them by the sidelines. Like Quentin, he was momentarily at a loss for words.

"You know, Henry's been gone for years," Quentin finally spoke after a long silence. "And it astounds me that you refer to him by his nickname with such familiarity. Only Julia called him Harry. As a matter of fact, now that I think of it, sometimes you talk about him as if he's still alive. You may have forgotten many of your memories of Harry, but it's quite obvious the special bond you had with him is still there, and it must have made an impact on your life."

Jamie almost laughed out loud. If only Quentin knew. He debated whether to say anything about Harry's mysterious appearances, but after a few indecisive heartbeats, he thought, bugger it. He might as well let the cat out of the bag. "Harry has appeared to me," he blurted rapidly before he could change his mind. "Numerous time. As solid and as real as we are standing here right now."

Quentin frowned. "What do you mean?"

Briefly, he filled Quentin in on the mystery that was Harry, from the first time the appearances began and everything in between and watched an array of expressions register on the older man's face. "I've only shared this story with Willie and Claire, and now ...you. It's not something I like to share with just anyone. But because ye're Harry's brother, I thought ye ought to know as well."

Quentin let out a low whistle. "That's some story. I don't know what to say. I've never believed in all these mumbo-jumbo spirit sightings, but ..." He let out a huge sigh. "...though your story is bizarre, strangely enough, I believe you. That night when you mentioned this place and this bench, I dreamt of Henry after. For the first time in years. He was sat right here, not saying a word. That's why I agreed to go on this trip. The notion that he may be trying to say something did occur to me and thought I might as well see this special place of Henry and Julia for myself."

Jamie let out an exhale of relief just as he saw Willie walking in their direction. His brother made a motion of tapping his watch, which could only mean one thing. He needed to make a move. Straightening up to his full body height, Jamie faced Quentin and cleared his throat. "Speaking about this place ..." He swallowed and braced himself. "I haven't been entirely honest with ye."

"Is that so?"

Willie came to stand beside them, a slow smile spreading across his face.

Jamie disregarded his brother's knowing smirk. "There's also another reason for this trip that I meant to tell ye."

Quentin muttered a curse. "You're going to tell me this isn't the all-lads trip you'd been going on about, is that it?"

"Aye ...no! I mean ..." He tunnelled impatient fingers through his hair. "What I meant to say is ...with everything falling into place ...Harry, the engravings on this bench a-and how our history are sort of intertwined together ...I -I thought ...right here and now would be a perfect time."

"Perfect time for?"

Jamie puffed out a breath. "Perfect time to ask for your blessing."

"Blessing for what?" Quentin's brow puckered, but by then, he knew Jamie well enough, and it only took a quick study of the situation to determine exactly what was going to be asked. Quentin's eyes widened at the realisation. "Holy hell, Jamie! Are you bloody kidding me? Is this what all this has been about?"

"It's been coming to this, cannae ye see it?" He worked to steady his voice. "Ye dreamt of Harry sat on this bench. That must mean something, and ye know it. Everything that's happened to me ...Claire coming to the Highlands ....those ..." He pointed at the bench. "...those engravings ....they didn't happen by chance. All of it has led to this day.."

"Jesus! I can't believe you're making me want to thump you a few hours after I just walloped you on the eye and apologised for it." He rolled up the sleeves of his top. "I was just beginning to warm up to you, lad. But it has to be done. It's a rule."

"Rule? What bloody rule?" He watched Quentin clenched and unclenched his fist. "Ye really are gonnae thump me, is that it?"

"Rule is rule," Willie murmured, watching them closely while sneaking glances at his phone. "But best get this settled soon because we dinnae have much time left."

"Time for what?" Quentin shot. "What the bloody hell is going on now?"

Jamie's patience was swiftly deteriorating. "Look, Quentin ...ye can thump me later, alright? I'll even offer ye my good eye. But right now, I need yer blessing."

Quentin laughed incredulously. "Listen, son, you don't get to schedule your own thumping."

That was the last straw. Whatever patience Jamie had left dissolved. There was no time for pussyfooting. He took two steps forward and brought his face close to Quentin's. The older man looked too shocked to react, so Jamie took advantage. "Listen to me, ye cantankerous ol' git. I tried being patient with ye because I know ye like me even if ye have a funny way of showing it. But this intent on giving me grief for whatever demented reason ye have and deriving joy out of it is bloody mental. So, I'm asking ye in the nicest possible way ...give me yer blessings. Ye're gonnae give it to me anyway. So cut out all this shite and give it to me now."

A tense silence between the men ensued, and they all stood stock-still waiting for each other to give in, and the only discernible sound to be heard was the waves crashing on the beach.

When the phone notification went off, Quentin and Jamie momentarily forgot their stand-off and whipped their attention to Willie. "So gentlemen, what is it going to be? It's nearly showtime."

Quentin's eyes narrowed. "Showtime?"

..........

"Òran na Mara," Claire read out loud as they drove past the hand-carved wooden sign. "Song of the sea. How very fitting."

"I think it's romantic," Annalise whispered in response, smiling at her from the passenger seat in front.

"Weel, here we are," the driver announced as they pulled into the driveway. "Welcome to yer home for the next few days."

Claire leaned forward to take a better look at the cottage with a thatched roof and stone wall. Though it retained its traditional features, the beautiful structure had all the subtle hallmarks of luxury, and she could tell it had been sympathetically modernised without compromising its original character. She smiled when she caught a glimpse of the white sand beach and the turquoise Atlantic ocean. "This is gorgeous, Annalise. Jamie's outdone himself with this surprise."

"He certainly has," Annalise grinned. "Shall we?"

They both hopped out, and while Annalise sorted out the driver, Claire could only stand there in awe of the surrounding. Everywhere she turned, there was something to look at - beaches, rolling hills, and islands on the horizon. She was so taken by the natural beauty around her, she didn't even notice the car drive away.

"Wait till you see inside. Jamie showed me pictures of the interior." Annalise walked up to the house and opened the wooden door, and Claire followed, hefting her luggage.

Inside was just as breathtaking as outside. "Wow," Claire breathed, admiring the views from the numerous windows. "This place is huge. There's probably enough room to accommodate ten people here. What are we going to do with all this space? The boys should have come."

Annalise just shrugged and smiled as she opened the glass door that led to the back garden overlooking the beach. "Why don't you go out and enjoy the view. There's a seat over there. I'll go and find us something to drink."

She stepped out of the cottage and sucked in a deep breath of salty air, and immediately felt at peace. Shading her eyes from the sun, she surveyed the curved bay of the beach and the peninsula in the backdrop. As far as she could see, there wasn't a soul in the area, nor were there passing cars to be heard, just the sound of nature, white sands and blue skies ahead. Oddly enough, the scenery uncannily reminded her of her mother's painting, which hung in her family home in Oxford, making her momentarily wonder if it was still there.

Sighing, she pulled out her phone and swiped the screen. There was still no message from Jamie. She decided it was no use pining over him when he must have spent a fortune sending her here to have some quality time with her best friend. He was thoughtful that way, even though sometimes to a fault. With a shake of her head, she shoved her phone back in her jeans, but something brought her up short as she made her way towards the bench. A familiar scent.

Before she could turn around to seek for the source, a pair of strong arms slid around her waist, soft, warm lips gliding along the back of her neck.

Exhilaration snapped in her veins. "Jamie," she breathed, turning around to wrap him in her arms. "You're here."

"I'm here," Jamie returned gruffly, his big hand rubbing circles on the small of her back. "Did ye really think I'd let ye out of my sight for a whole weekend when ye could be returning to London anytime soon?" He buried his face in the crook of her neck, nuzzling his nose against her skin.

"A part of me didn't think so." She tipped her head back and forced him to look at her. When his face came to view, she did a double-take. "Your eye! What happened?"

His lips twitched. "Dinnae fash, Sassenach. It's just a minor accident. So, do ye like yer surprise?"

Her lungs released the pent-up breath she was holding in a rush. "I love it and even more so now that you're here."

He smiled and took a moment to search her eyes before their mouths joined, warm hands cradling her face. His tongue parted her lips and stroked with the utmost tenderness in a slow, savouring kiss making her aware of their hearts pounding in unison.

"Sassenach ..." He trailed off to brush his lips against her temple. "Before anything else, there's something I have to show ye."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Another surprise?"

Tongue tucked into his cheek, he momentarily glanced over her shoulder before his gaze ticked back to hers. "I suppose ye can call it that. Have ye been here before?"

She noticed the immediate gravity in Jamie's expression as he kissed her brow. "No. I haven't. But I must admit this place does feel familiar."

"How so?"

"The views ...it reminds me of my mother's painting. She's probably been here at one point."

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "She was."

"She was? How do you know? Uncle Lamb told you?" she asked rapidly.

"Patience, woman! Too many questions all at once." He tugged her towards the bench, and when he let go, he stooped over the seat and ran a hand over the wooden surface. He glanced up at her and smiled. "Come here and take a look at this."

Claire did as she was told, and as she crouched down, her eyes landed on a string of words carved in what looked like a feeble attempt at calligraphy.

Henry and Julia - At the end, as at the start, through all the in-betweens, until the world stops spinning.

A choppy breath passed her lips as she ran her fingertips over the etchings. "It's my mum and dad."

"Aye."

"They were here." She stood up and looked around her, this time, trying to see the surroundings through their eyes. "It makes sense dad brought mum to this place. It's so romantic, and from stories I've been told, he was just ...that. And I can imagine my mum sitting here on this very spot, capturing the moment with her artwork." An intense wave of gratitude suddenly rose, almost making the moisture in her eyes spill. Jamie had done this for her because he knew, just like him, she was trying to put the pieces of her past together. "God, this is bloody insane. I wouldn't have seen this if we hadn't met."

"Ye want to hear the best part?"

She gave him a wobbly smile. "Go on then."

"Yer da proposed to your ma on this very bench."

She let out a soft expulsion of breath. Something expansive and extraordinary stirred within. It was as if, in this very moment, Jamie's revelation had taken back to her parents' past and was there to witness it. "I don't know what to say."

"The carvings on the bench was yer da's tribute to the day he proposed to yer ma."

"And you know this, how?" she asked quietly.

"Yer uncle and I put two and two together," Jamie explained, with a one-shoulder shrug. "I told ye ....some memories of my childhood have started to come back. Weel, this was one of them. When I mentioned to Quentin about how yer father showed me his handiwork on this bench when I was a wee lad, he'd figured this was the place Harry proposed. Yer father must have spoken of this place to yer uncle. I didnae understand any of it back then. I was too young. I wouldnae have realised the significance of it if I hadn't told Quentin about it. After some thoughts, I knew I had to come back and see it for myself just to prove I hadn't imagined any of it."

"But did you have to put me on a charter plane?" she softly admonished. "With Tom Christie? Are you mates with him now?"

"Tom is often hired to fly some goods to Stornoway for some restaurant. When I heard he'd be flying today, I thought it fitted perfectly with my plan. I must admit it pained me to ask him to take ye girls, but he was happy enough to sneak ye in."

"We could have flown here together."

"Aye, we could have." He took her hand in his and played with her fingers. "But I wasnae sure how I'd fare in the plane with my PTSD. Besides, I had a few personal businesses to attend to.

"Such as?"

He shook his head in amusement and kissed her lips, lingering there before drawing away. "Ye're distracting me, Sassenach and I still have something to show ye."

She heard Annalise's laughter coming from the cottage. "I presume Willie is here with you too."

"Your presumption is correct. Now stop asking questions and take a look at this." He pulled her towards the other end of the bench.

She sighed. "Alright, let's see it then."

Jamie let go of her hand and tapped a finger on the spot. "Take a look."

Claire leaned forward and read the inscription.

Jamie/Claire - the promise of greater things to come.

She frowned as confusion settled upon her. "What's this?" She traced the grooved marks of the words with a fingertip. "This has the same indentation as the other engraving. And it looks old. This couldn't have been recent."

"Yer da wrote it."

She straightened up. "Wot? But what does it mean?"

Jamie blew out a breath. "He wrote the names he would name his firstborn. He chose my name for a boy, and I got to pick yers."

Her eyes widened. "You picked my name?"

"Apparently," he grinned.

A laugh bubbled out of her. "God, so much to take in. Whatever next?"

"This." Jamie picked up a paper bag she hadn't noticed before by the bench and pulled out a padded envelope. "It's from yer workplace." He read the sender. "Dreamcatcher."

She sighed, still reeling from what Jamie just told her. "It's probably from John," she murmured more to herself as she took the envelope. She tore it open and was surprised when she pulled out its content and realised it was a children's book. "It's from Louise." When Jamie gave her a bland look, she sat down on the bench and stared at it. "She's a good friend of Annalise and a children's book author as well as an illustrator. I convince her to publish with Dreamcatcher when she showed me her work. I admitted to her a while back I wanted to be a writer. Every time our paths would cross, she'd asked me if I'd done anything about it. And every time I told her I was still working as an editor, she would give me a disappointed look." She smiled and shook her head. "I wonder why she sent this to me." Admiring the colourful print, she ran her hand over the cover. "What a talented woman."

"So ...what is the book about?"

Claire examined the book. "It's about The Unicorn and the Lioness," she answered, reading the title and leafing through the pages. As she suspected, each page was beautifully and colourfully illustrated. "Well, shall we see what we have here?" She opened it to the beginning and began to read aloud.

There once was a unicorn

That fell for a lioness.

She surprised him with her charm,

And her comeliness.

She grinned as she flipped the page. "Unusual pairing," she observed, making a face at Jamie. "...but hey ...the unusual ones tend to be the best."

She licked her lips and continued reading.

The two, you see,

Were from different worlds

So it made him wonder,

How'd it all unfurled?

"Ah ... makes me wonder too," she added softly. "This is getting interesting."

Jamie laughed, angling his body so he could also see the pictures.

In spite of their differences,

It was love at first sight.

Their feelings grew quickly,

Their hearts took to flight.

She smiled and turned to the next page.

The unicorn, his life,

Once troubled and scattered

Now calmed and on the mend

In all ways, that matter.

She glanced up at him and grinned. "Well, love heals, so they say," she remarked with a wink. "And love is all there is."

"Love is all there is," Jamie echoed with amusement.

She took a deep breath and resumed where she left off.

There were simply no words

For how lucky he'd become.

Without her by his side

Life would be hopelessly glum.

She paused for a beat as a peculiar inkling tugged in her guts. Swallowing the odd knot in her throat, she forced herself to say something. Anything! "We wouldn't want the unicorn feeling glum now, would we?" she managed, suddenly unable to draw breath.

"No," he replied. "A glum unicorn would be a tragedy."

Oh, lordy, lordy! Is this what I think what's happening? She took a fortifying breath and lifted the next page with a shaky hand.

It's hard to believe

Just how happy they were.

He could not conceive

Even one day without her.

"Happy is good," she squeaked, working her throat to be heard.

"Happiness is always a good choice ...grab it while ye can," he returned quietly.

Unable to get a grip of her runaway thoughts, a dull pounding began in her chest, gradually accelerating and drowning out the noise in their surrounding, portraying the moment with a dreamlike quality. She peered up at Jamie. Underneath his handsome exterior, she could see he was anxious, the lines around his mouth more noticeable than usual. The bruise on his eye, as much as she didn't believe it resulted from an accident, added a mixture of masculinity and vulnerability. God, I love this man! She wanted to stand up and hug him and let him know she knew where he was going with this. But now was not the time to ease his anxiety. She needed to pull herself together to see through what Jamie had probably painstakingly arranged for this moment.

"Weel, are ye gonnae finish reading it?" he asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Batting a speck of non-existent dirt from the book, she filled her lungs, nodded and read the next lines.

So he got on one knee

To hand her a gift

A tiny velvet box

Holding a silver piece

A silver piece? A record-scratching moment descended upon her like a heavy lead. What's a silver piece? Had she misinterpreted Jamie's intention? But when she glanced up from the book, there he was kneeling in front of her. Holding an expensive-looking velvet ring box, looking determined and brimming with adoration. It's not a ring, Beauchamp! It's a silver piece ...whatever the heck that is. Get a grip. She mentally shook herself. Of course, it couldn't be a ring. It's too soon for him to be asking her hand in marriage. The tiny box had to contain a key to his cottage, ....but he'd already given her one. Perhaps he bought a new house?

"Are ye gonnae to open it?" he asked, breaking her thoughts.

At a loss for words, she took the velvet box with trembling fingers. She reminded herself to calm down. She wouldn't want to embarrass them both into thinking Jamie was proposing.

"It's no' gonnae open itself, Sassenach. Or do ye want to keep holding it until ye're ready?" His lips twitched at its corner, and a spark of amusement lit his eyes.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. She took a deep breath and opened the tiny box. When she glimpsed its content, she could only manage a weak "Oh!" Nestled in the case was a shiny one-pound coin where the ring should have been. Too confused for words, she gave him a questioning look.

On his knees, Jamie edged himself forward and took her hand. Keeping his eyes on her, he kissed the inside of her wrist. "Sassenach ...ye ken how I've always talked about how fate in some strange, mysterious way brought us together?" Claire slowly nodded in response, unsure where he was going with this. "Weel, to this day, I still dinnae ken how it all works. This may sound mad. But with everything that's led to here and now, I firmly believe some force, unknown or known, has had a hand in bringing us together. And every day, I thank whoever is listening up there for bringing ye into my life."

Her heart swelled with love. "Jamie, you don't have to do this," she said, laying a hand on his cheeks. "I know what's in your heart."

"No." He took the coin from the box and pulled something from the back of his jeans. "I want to do this." Whatever he reached out for inside his pocket, he kept it hidden in his hand. He cleared his throat and gave her a small smile. "Loving ye is the best part of my life, Sassenach. You brought light and colour in, and for that, I'll always be grateful. Ye brought me back to life when I didnae even realise I'd stopped breathing. From the moment I first laid eyes on ye, I wanted ye for keeps. I want to be yers and for ye to be mine, and I promise I will always try my utmost best to keep ye happy."

"I've always been yours. And always will be. My move to the Highlands should have made that clear enough for you."

"Aye, I had no doubt about that. But I ken that stubborn, practical side of ye will try to argue what I'm about to ask ye is too soon." When he opened his hand, she gasped. On the middle of his palm was a three-diamond stone engagement ring with two smaller ones flanking a bigger brilliant round centre. Emotions tangled in her throat as he raised the one pound coin with his other hand. "If ye, like me, believe destiny ...the universe ...yer da or whatever ye wish to call it ...conspired to bring us together, I'm gonnae dare ye to leave it up to fate with this one-pound coin I have here."

"Wot?" Now she was utterly confused.

"I'm proposing a coin toss. The rules are simple, and it only takes five flips. If it comes up heads each time ... ye'll wear my ring. We dinnae have to marry right away. We can wait a day or ten years. Either way, I want ye to know I plan on loving ye straight through eternity. If the coin comes up tails, weel ..." he trailed off, shrugging. "I guess I have no choice but to wait until ye're ready."

She looked down at Jamie's opened palms, a coin in one hand and a ring in the other. He was doing this so she wouldn't feel pressured to marry but feel secure enough in the knowledge he'd always be waiting for her no matter how long. She squeezed her eyes shut and crammed her fingers to her lips to keep a cry from escaping. She was not interested in tossing a coin to prove they're meant for each other. What they felt for one another wasn't based on fate or luck. They'd met, fallen in love, and now they're taking their relationship to the next level. It's something that happened all the time. They may not love each other the easy way, but their hearts were in the right place every single time. They're rock solid, and she didn't need a flipping coin to tell her that.

When she opened her eyes, a sound broke free in her chest. "Bloody hell, Jamie! Just stop with all this silliness, and put the damn ring on my finger," she hiccuped, giving him her hand.

Jamie's shoulders drained of tension as his breath released in a rush. "Did ye just agree to marry me?"

Hot tears rolled down Claire's cheeks as she let out a watery laugh and fell back on the bench, right where her father had proposed to her mother all those years ago. Though it felt right, a slight uneasiness tried to sneak in when she remembered what Annalise had told her about Jamie's doubt about having children of his own. She searched his face, and all she could see was his love and promise to make her happy. Isn't everything supposed to fix itself when two people are in love? She made a decision not to bring it up ...for now. "Yes, Jamie. I did. I want to marry you too," she breathed as she watched him take her hand to slip the ring on her finger. When she gazed at it, she could only make out the twinkle of diamonds through her tears.

"Christ, I cannae believe ye ditched the coin toss. and agreed to marry me ...just like that."

"I don't need the coin toss to know we're meant for each other," she pointed out. "And you shouldn't either."

He gave her a boyish lopsided grin, one that he was very aware always had an effect on her. Damn! He rose to his full height, tugging her along with him. "Ye have no idea how happy you made me, Sassenach," he breathed, pulling her roughly against him and grazing her earlobe with his teeth. "Now, for the love of God, give yer man his engagement kiss."

Committing this moment to her memory, she slipped her hands under his top to feel the warmth of his skin. Standing on her tiptoes, she tipped her head back and laid a soft kiss on his lips. She smiled when his chest and stomach muscles strained and swelled underneath her touch. "Is that better?" she whispered.

Jamie muttered a curse under his breath, rolling his forehead side to side against hers. "Sassenach, I said kiss. Ye cannae touch me like that when there are people that could be watching us from the house."

"Why?"

"Jesus!" Jamie's exhale came out hot against her forehead. "Why? How am I going to walk back in there in this condition? Ye look at me so innocently when ye ken well I feel a little crazy right now. It wouldnae take much to get me going. Look at what ye do to me."

They both dropped their attention to the bulge straining against his jeans. "I see," she whispered with a shrug, drawing away. "Too bad. I guess we just have to have that celebratory kiss later ...when we're alone."

Looking pained, his hand dug into her hair, pulling her back in, in his hold. "Not too fast." His lips swept over hers before his tongue dipped inside to give her his own brand of teasing. Seconds ticked by while he tantalised with a deep kiss, causing a moan to pass her throat. She felt the shudder that passed through him, the ecstasy of this second, his love, the pressure of his lust pressing between their bodies, the awe and gratitude. It was their own private celebration, drowning everything else out and ...

A throat cleared gruffly. Jamie stiffened and dragged his lips from her mouth, pink blooming on the tips of his ears. Just beyond his shoulder, she saw uncle Lamb averting his eyes and rocking on his heels.

"Uncle Lamb?" Claire croaked. "Don't tell me you're on this as well?"

"Trust me, sweetheart, you're not the only one who's been bushwhacked."

"Bushwhacked?"

"I guess this is the part where we say, congratulations." Willie's voice cut through her surprise at seeing her uncle, causing her head to drop forward on Jamie's chest. As the reality of their surroundings slowly began to encroach, Claire somehow found the willpower to unwind her arms from Jamie's neck and turn around. Three pair of eyes were trained on them with a mixture of amusement and joy for their happiness and mild annoyance from her uncle.

"Aye, we're officially engaged," Jamie announced, his arm going around her waist to pull her back against his chest. He pressed his lap to her backside to let her know the situation in his pants.

Claire stifled a giggle and put on her best smile, fully aware of Jamie's mild discomfort. "We are, indeed," she grinned, leaning back to kiss the underside of Jamie's jaw. "I must admit, I never saw this coming." She lifted her hand to show them the ring.

Annalise whooped and clapped her hands. "Well, this call for a celebration then," she beamed, skipping towards them. "Let me see it."

Squeezing her hip, Jamie let her go. She smothered the urge to laugh when she supposed that probably nothing loses a man's erection faster than a sight of her uncle Lamb's tetchy demeanour. Dismissing her silly thoughts, Claire splayed her hand out for her friend. "It's gorgeous, isn't it?"

"Stunning. I'm so happy for you." She looked Claire in the eye and spoke for her ears only. "Did you tell him what we talked about earlier?"

"Which one?"

"Babies. Hello?"

Claire sighed. She didn't want to lie to her friend, nor did she want to taint the occasion by bringing the subject of future babies up. There was a time and place for that and now wasn't appropriate. She hugged Annalise briefly and spoke into her ears. "Everything is going to be fine."

Annalise brows furrowed, but when she saw how happy Claire was, she immediately dropped the subject. "If you say so."

"I know so," Claire smiled, pulling away from her friend at the sight of Willie approaching. "Now, scoot and celebrate with us."

Annalise did an eye-roll and let Willie through.

"Congratulations!" Willie broke in, raising the bottle of Moët in his hand and giving Jamie a high-five with the other. He dropped a kiss on Claire's cheek and grinned. "Welcome to the family, Claire. My not so wee bràthair doesnae mess about, does he?"

"Thank you," she smiled. "And, no, he certainly doesn't."

Jamie received a back slap and a hug from his brother while Claire watched her uncle slowly approached them, shoulders strained, and hands shoved in his pocket. Something was amiss. Quentin was avoiding her eyes, and she noticed his face was devoid of emotions. She strode to his side. "Seriously, uncle?" she hissed, disbelief colouring her tone.

Quentin ignored her. "You sneaky piece of shit!" he barked at Jamie.

"Oh, dear God, here we go again," Willie muttered, rubbing his hand over his face.

"Again?" Claire gasped as she noticed Annalise and Willie's eyes ricocheting between Jamie and Quentin. She was about to scold her uncle when his face broke into a grin. She held her breath and stilled in anticipation.

"Congratulations, son! I couldn't think of a better man for my niece!"

"About time ye realised it, ol' man," Jamie grinned.

"Who are you calling an old man?" Quentin ground out in mock displeasure.

Annalise, Willie and Claire gaped at Quentin.

"What?" Quentin chuckled. "If I'd come right out and told Jamie right at the start, I couldn't think of a better man for my niece, he would never have fought for her the way he did."

"What kind of logic is that?" Claire fumed.

Jamie crossed his arms. "Oh, this is gonnae be gold."

"It's a men thing, sweetheart and complicated," Quentin muttered, giving Jamie a dirty look.

"I'll try and keep up. Explain."

Quentin released an impatient sigh. "Men in your generation have none to too little backbone. Jamie had to realise he was good enough and strong enough for you. And you had to make him realise it. That's the top and bottom of it."

Her uncle was right, Claire thought. A few weeks ago, Jamie wouldn't have thought himself capable of coming this far with his condition. She might have been instrumental in pulling him out of the darkness where he'd lived for so long, but all the hard work had come from Jamie.

When Quentin took her hand and pulled her into an awkward embrace, she relaxed. "I'm not going to be around forever, darling," he said gruffly before pulling away to look her in the eyes. "I wanted to make sure you were in good hands if anything happened to me." He glanced at Jamie. "I had an inkling when Claire first told me about you, and we talked for the first time on that video chat, that your relationship was serious. The second I found out Henry's connection to you, I had to delve more into your history. When you started talking about fate and all that tripe, I didn't believe in it ...but these last few days, after spending time together, you made me believe in you. I saw something in you."

Quentin gestured toward the double-headed one-pound coin Jamie had left on the bench. "So when you tried to extract a blessing for this proposal after dragging me here under the pretence of a boys' weekend, I thought I'd have a little laugh and grant it by giving that coin Henry gave me and challenging you to leave it to fate ...without telling you it was double-headed. As you know, I was still a bit miff with you for not letting me into this big secret thing. But you surprised me when you agreed to take the challenge and told me you'd leave it to Claire to toss it. You really believe in all that destiny nonsense, don't you?" He shook his head in disbelief.

Jamie just shrugged and smiled.

"Uncle Lamb! How could you?" Claire huffed indignantly, crossing her arms across her chest. "For your information, we didn't toss the coin even if Jamie suggested it."

Quentin's eyes widened. "You didn't?"

"I don't need a damn coin to make my decisions, for God's sake."

Jamie slipped his arm across her shoulder and squeezed her. "It doesnae matter, Sassenach. All that matters is he gave us his blessings and that we love each other."

"I know," Claire whispered before glaring at her uncle. "As for you, no more tricks up your sleeves, are we clear?"

"Jamie caught me off guard with this marriage thing. Can you blame me for what I did?"

"Uncle Lamb! That's not the issue here." She pegged him down with a look. "You've been giving Jamie a hard time from day one. No more tricks and no more taunting Jamie. I love you both, and I want you to get along. Promise me."

Quentin raised his hands in the air before placing them on his chest. "Promise. Jamie's read me the riot act earlier today, and you're speaking to the converted. And I meant what I said when I told him I couldn't think of a better man for you. Honestly, I'm happy for both of you." He opened his arms to her. "Forgive me, sweetheart?"

With a roll of her eye, she stepped away from Jamie's hold and threw herself in her uncle's arms. "You know I'll always forgive you," she mumbled against his neck, hugging him close. "Despite you being such a grouch, I want you to know I am happy that you're here."

"Me too, sweetheart, me too," he said gruffly. "Now, shall we start the celebration? I'm parched and starving."

"About time," Annalise chirped with a little dance and fist pump.

Laughing, Willie popped the cork on a bottle of Moët while Jamie handed out the crystal flutes.

Claire watched as their drinks were being poured and smiled. She said a silent prayer for her parents and thanked them. There were so many things to be grateful for. Life was good, and her heart was full. She was moving to the Highlands, start her career as a writer and marry the man she loved. This was what she wanted, and she was prepared for this whatever may come their way. Her only wish was, her parents could be here today, so her father could see what a fine lad Jamie had grown up to be.

Her attention was brought back to the present when Annalise nudged her with her foot. With champagne finally in everyone's hand, they all raised their glasses to their new beginning.

"To Jamie and Claire," Willie began.

"To your happiness," Annalise added.

"To family and friends," Jamie beamed.

"To what's next," Claire breathed.

"To my next meal," Quentin snorted. "Now drink up, and let's go. I'm bloody starving."

..........

"Did you really mean what you said earlier?" Jamie asked Quentin once they were alone, and the rest of the party walked ahead of them on their way back to the cottage from the pub. "About believing in me and being happy for us?"

Quentin glanced at him. "I always say what I mean, son. Best get used to it," he grumbled.

"Right ..." They walked in silence, watching Claire, Annalise and Willie as they began singing the chorus of Living on a Prayer for the umpteenth time. "About that double-headed one pound coin ..." Jamie began.

"That was a clever touch, huh?" Quentin grinned. "Would have come handy for you if Claire had decided to use it. You still got it?"

"Aye." Jamie handed him the coin. "By the way, I have a confession to make."

"What's that?" Quentin asked, taking the coin and shoving it in his pocket.

"The reason why I readily agreed to that coin toss you suggested earlier is that ...Harry gave me one too." Jamie dug his own coin from his pocket and showed it to Quentin. "I knew the coin ye were giving me was double-headed."

Quentin stopped to look at him. "You suggested the coin toss to Claire even though you knew it was double-headed?"

"Aye."

"If Claire had agreed, would you have used the double-headed or the normal coin?"

"The double-headed, of course," Jamie admitted.

"What about all your bloody talk of fate and destiny and all that?"

Jamie shrugged. "Oh, I still believe in fate, but I couldnae take the chance. I love yer niece too much. I think ye would be inclined to agree that the universe has an odd sense of humour, and I needed to cover my arse just in case it decided to turn against me."

Quentin scowled. "Is it too late to change my mind about you?"

"Aye."

They watched as Annalise and Willie, doubled with laughter, latched on to Claire's arms after she stumbled onto the curb.

"Well, then," Quentin grunted. "What the hell are you doing here still babbling to me? Go join the fun."

Jamie shook his head. "Oh no, ye don't, spoilsport. Ye're here to have some fun too. Ye're joining in."

"I'm too old for all that. Now go and leave me in peace."

Jamie narrowed his gaze at him. "Is that really what ye want? To be left in peace?"

Quentin blew out an exasperated breath, but Jamie caught the sheen in his eyes and the smile he was battling. "No. I want you to get used to me showing up," he growled.

Jamie pretended to sound annoyed so as not to embarrass the older man. "Fine, as long as it doesn't involve ye decking me."

"Deal."

..........

Jamie looked up from the mock children's book, smiling when he heard Claire doing her nightly routine in the bathroom. The book disguising his marriage proposal had been Annalise idea. As soon as she'd heard of his intention from Willie, she'd made the suggestion, desperately wanting to play a part in surprising Claire. She even had him adding a few of his own words to the poem. How Annalise's friend managed to illustrate and have the book printed on such short notice, he had no idea. But he must admit, The Unicorn and the Lioness book had been a nice touch.

Claire walked into the bedroom, looking fresh in his t-shirt, her face still flushed from the champagne earlier. He watched her shiver a little, rubbing her arms to generate heat. The sight of her bare legs kicked his heart rate up a notch. He smiled and drew the bedcover back in an invitation to get in.

As she snuggled under the crook of his arm, she smiled when she saw the book on his lap. "I never got to read the ending," she said with a yawn, her arm sliding across his waist.

He kissed the crown of her head and pulled her in closer. "Shall I read it for ye?"

"Yes, please."

"I'll start from where you left off."

"Alright."

Jamie got comfortable and cleared his throat. "Here goes ..."

So he got on one knee

To hand her a gift

A tiny velvet box

Holding a silver piece

Claire giggled. "You got me right there."

"I know," Jamie chuckled, turning the page. "Now wheesht and let me finish."

Confused and bewildered

That it's not a ring

It became apparent

She wanted the real thing

So still on his one knee

He uttered the plea:

"My dearest lioness,

Will you marry me?"

He felt his heart beating

Right out of his chest.

He could do nothing but wait

And hope she'd say YES.

When he ended and a few moments of silence ensued, Claire twisted from her position and looked up at him. "That's it?"

"Aye," Jamie replied, handing her the book. "Louise said you're a writer, so she left a blank page for you to write the ending."

"Is that so?" she said, laughing, reaching for her specs. "Well, let's see what I can do."

Jamie grabbed a pen from the nightstand and handed it to her.

After adjusting the pillow, she sat up and began scribbling, reading the words out loud as she wrote.

When she finally answered

He could not stop grinning

Because he knew, in his heart,

This was just The Beginning!

Claire closed the book and took off her specs. "How was that?" she asked, sliding back under the covers.

"It was good, but I'm left hanging. I'm dying to know what happened after?"

"Hmmm ..." She climbed on top of him and nipped his lips with her teeth. "They celebrated with their loved ones, ate a lot of food and drank too much champagne." She drew circles on his chest. "Although I have a sneaking suspicion, their night is not over yet."

Jamie flipped her on her back, making her yelp. He scanned her face for a few heartbeats. "Ye're absolutely right. He's gonnae tell her how happy she's made him," he whispered, his words thick with emotions. "And show her in so many ways how much he loves her."

She blinked away the tears blearing her vision and smiled up. "Well, he's got all night to prove he's not just a bunch of talk."

He arched an eyebrow at her. "A bunch of talk, huh? He's a big man, Sassenach, and he makes love twice as long."

She slipped her hand past the waistband of his boxer brief and gripped him hard, making him catch his breath. "We'll see about that," she challenged.

He rewarded her by grabbing her hand and slowly pressing his hips into her. "You're on, Sassenach, you're on," he groaned into her mouth before silencing her with his kisses.

Dear Readers,

Firstly, apologies for the delay in the final chapter of this series. As some of you already know, if you read my Tumblr posts, I've had a bad reaction to my vaccination. Though I feel a little better, I don't feel quite right yet hence the delay of this update. I'm easily tired and have been writing sporadically, depending on my energy level. So, after this chapter, I will take a long rest before starting the next series.

Secondly, I'd like to thank everyone for the kudos and comments on AO3 and on my Tumblr and those who left best wishes in my inbox. I appreciate them all from the bottom of my heart. Though I haven't replied individually, please know I enjoy reading them and look forward to what you have to say.

Thirdly, as you may have gathered, this is the final chapter of this series. There will be a third series. When? I have no time frame yet as I will need time to recuperate. If you wish to be updated, you can always subscribe to the WONDERWALL series by clicking here. Or follow me on my Tumblr site here.

Lastly, I hope you've enjoyed this last chapter. It's the longest chapter I've ever written, with 11560 words. If this update is all over the place, I blame it on my bad days. I personally think it's alright, but I can never be sure. I believe my reaction to the vaccination has dulled me a bit. So, thank you all from the bottom of my heart: for your continued interest, readership, kudos and comments. I look forward to reading your remarks and constructive criticism on this latest update. Kudos to you all, my friends, and be safe. Keep the positive vibe rolling. Much love. X

PS I will compile a Masterlist for WONDERWALL and post it on my Tumblr site, either tomorrow or in the next few days, depending on how I feel.

#melodyheart #wonderwall #milesbetweenus #claire beauchamp/jamie fraser #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #outlanderfanfic

83 notes · View notes

meteorrogers · 4 years ago

Text

gravity pulled me to the ground | c. e.

summary: you and Chris are about to have sex for the first time and he’s nervous.

pairing: chris evans x reader

warnings: fluff, making out, language, implied smut? (idk, maybe not)

word count: 1,313 (i think)

a/n: hi peeps!! my first time writing a fic so excuse my errors and don’t be harsh please!:) or do be, i guess. anyway, i hope you enjoy this at least a little bit, let me know what you think!! :)))) <3<3

His hands skim over your hips and up your back, the hem of your shirt catching on his fingers.

“God, I want you,“ Chris breathes into your mouth, voice slightly quivering from the lust he’s feeling.

“Bedroom?“ You ask just as breathlessly and as a sign of agreement, he picks you up.

The night started innocently, even though your intentions weren’t as pure as they might have seemed. Far from it, actually. You have been dating Chris for about four months now, however, you decided to take things slow, agreeing that there was no need to rush anything. Both you and Chris had been looking for a serious relationship because the desire to settle down had been growing stronger and stronger, the only thing standing in your way was not having found the right partner. Until you met Chris. You enjoy spending time with each other, never getting bored of one another and a big indicator that you are the one for Chris is Dodger’s behavior towards you.

You see, Dodger is a very friendly dog and he likes almost everybody. However, his love for you is significantly stronger than for any other girl Chris has dated, or for anyone for that matter. And you love Dodger just as much. He gets excited when he hears your name, everytime Chris and him are playing fetch, he brings the ball to you and you gladly take Chris‘ place and when you were brushing his fur, which he hates, he didn’t even flinch!

But what surprised Chris the most was when you were lying on his couch, Chris was reading a book and you were watching a reality show (he still doesn‘t understand why you like them so much and you always tell him that watching those hilariously ridiculous people is the most entertaining thing to exist) when Dodger came up to you, snuggled up to your side and shoved his snout into your neck, your hands immediately moving to rub behind his ears as you cooed at him.

He had never done this to anyone but Chris and to be honest, he felt kind of jealous at that moment, not sure if he envied you or Dodger more. Chris just scoffed which brought your attention to the man. You’d ask what was wrong and he’d inform you that what you were doing was his and Dodger’s thing. And you smirked at him and told him that he should just get used to the competition. Shaking his head with a smile, he got back to his book even though all he could focus on was the image of the future he’d build with you playing in his head.

But, as much time as you have been spending together, and as much as you both enjoy it, you still haven‘t slept together and you were kind of hoping that tonight would be the night when you’d take that step.

Chris carries you to the bedroom and settles you on his bed which you aren‘t unfamiliar with, his kisses move from your lips over your jaw to your neck, making you moan. Your fingers tangle themselves into his hair as his hands roam over your hips and below your breasts. Not that you don‘t enjoy the touch of his lips on your neck, but he’s already spent too much time sucking marks into your skin and you want more.

“Take off my shirt,“ you breathe and he lifts his head, looking down at you and then dropping a kiss on your lips. When he pulls away, he nods his head.

“Okay,“ He sits up and you follow him, helping him take your top off. Then you do the same to his shirt.

He doesn‘t even give you time to appreciate his torso that’s littered with tattoos, his lips quickly meeting yours once more and pushing you back into the mattress. He starts kissing down your neck again, and without the cloth barrier, his mouth continues lower than before. His hand is now gently cupping your right breast while he holds himself up with the other one. However, his kisses never go to the further places that are covered by your bra and you are slowly becoming desperate.

“Chris,“ you whine, silently begging him to touch you more.

“I know,“ he sighs and lets his forehead fall to your chest. He lets out a breath and suddenly, you become confused.

“Chris, what’s wrong?“ you ask as you touch his cheek to bring his attention to you. He looks up and you furrow your eyebrows, getting more and more insecure every passing second he stays silent. Your hand falls away from his face, “Do you not want this?“

His eyes widen at that, realizing what kind of thoughts caused by his demeanor are now running through your brain and he mentally punches himself, “No! I mean yes, of course I do. I want this. I want you, it’s just…“ he lets out another sigh, his eyes not meeting yours. Your hand comes back to stroke his cheek, encouraging him to continue. “I haven’t been with a woman like this in a long time,“ he confesses. You don‘t let your surprise show even though you are kind of shocked, “I’m nervous,“ he chuckles softly and you can‘t help but smile at his shyness. “Geez, I’m acting like a 15 year old virgin,“ he rolls his eyes at himself.

“Hey,“ you urge him to look at you. When he meets your gaze, you kiss him, “First sex is always awkward. I haven’t slept with anyone in a while either and I’m nervous, too… But it’s good nervous, you know? And I’m glad I’m doing this with you,“ he seems to relax after that and smiles, kissing you again. “Besides, you’ve already made me fall hard and I don’t think one bad sex is gonna change that,“ you add light-heartedly.

Chris smirks at that, “You fell for me?“

Shit. You honestly didn’t mean to confess your love for him at this moment, or any time soon, even though you have loved him for a while now. Heat comes rushing to your cheeks and it’s your turn to look away in embarrassement, because what if he doesn‘t feel the same way? Your arms fall awkwardly to your sides and your fingers start clutching and unclutching the sheets.

“I mean… I can fall out if… you know… if you’re still standing on your feet or like… if you know you’ll hold yourself up…“ Jesus Christ, you need to stop talking, but your moron mouth keeps spitting out more nonsense, “I won’t be mad! I mean, maybe a little sad but I’m sure I’ll get over it. I think Dodger’s love might be enough for me,“ you continue to babble and Chris would stop you, but he finds it too adorable. You laugh hollowly then, „Well, I hope you let me visit him from time to time after you break up wi–“ Now, he didn’t want to hear that, so he kisses you hard to stop you from finishing that sentence.

„Don’t you dare think that I’m ever letting you go,“ he says after your lips part, looking deep into your eyes just so you know how strong the meaning of his words is. You stare at him wide-eyed, not knowing what to say, „I love you,“ he then adds and you become flustered yet again although for a whole different reason. He loves you. You are silently schreeching in enthusiasm and you can’t fight the smile growing on your face which he reciprocates.

„I love you, too,“ you finally say, still a little bit shy, but pulling him down nevertheless.

Chris is just as delighted as you and all the nervousness he felt before suddenly fades away because he realizes that there is no reason to be embarrassed in front of you and he couldn’t be more lucky. You have become his world, his future, and there is no way he’s ever giving that up.

the end

wow, thank you for making it this far! any kind of feedback will be appreciated!! i love you so much!!!🥺thank you again💛

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x female!reader #chris evans x f!reader #chris evans x you #chris evans one shot #chris evans fluff #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans imagine #writer luci

217 notes · View notes

moral-turpitudes · 4 years ago

Text

College Headcanons: Modern!Peaky Blinders Edition

Part 1 | Part 2

A/N: This came to me in a dream. Enjoy.

Thomas Shelby:

Double Major: Political Science and Business Management (bc he likes to work himself to death) Minor: Military Sciences/ROTC

Likes debating and trying to outsmart the professor.

Often seen on campus with bloody knuckles from rocking someone’s jaw.

Would 100% punch a motherfucker for being mean to someone he cares about.

Doesn’t need to be in a fraternity to be known around campus, just don’t mess with him and you’ll be fine.

All the girls whisper as he walks by but he don’t give a fuck cuz he has to go to his lectures.

He’s on time for every class and pulls out his pocket watch if the professor is more than 5 minutes late. If the professor can’t bother showing up then he dips out.

Almost got suspended for one too many fist fights.

Has a “thing” for the barista at the campus Starbucks. He learned after frequent visits, that her name was Grace and that she liked black coffee just like him.

Mysterious and moody af. No one knows if they’ve ever seen him smile, except when chatting up Grace.

Tries his best to study, but ends up getting dragged into his siblings shenanigans or into his head about the family business.

Keeps to himself for the most part, except for having a few close friends.

Hates technology so he uses a typewriter and prefers receiving letters/mail over emails.

Can’t figure out how to use Grace the baristas phone when typing in his number and tells her to write it down instead.

Often tells her to meet him after her shift. 😏

Professors hate him because of his reliance on paper. Totes not eco-friendly but he doesn’t care. Tommy always gets his way.

Grace always gives him a cookie for free cuz she knows he forgets to eat.

Always seen smoking or sneaking drinks of whiskey in a flask, even at 7am lectures.

Binge drinks on weekends with his bros, and drunk calls barista Grace when he has maybe 3 working brain cells left for the night. On other weekends when he’s coherent, he meets with Polly and tries to discuss business plans since their dad dipped out like a bitch.

To make matters worse, after dating for a while, Grace just leaves him. He thinks his aunt Polly may have been too hard on her, but he didn’t know until later that she lied when she said she didn’t know about the business. But barista bitch knew everything, and was gonna expose them to her higher-ups in the criminal justice department before long.

Arthur Shelby:

Major: Agriculture Minor: Military Science/ROTC

Graduated just barely.

Ended up in some trouble with his peeps in the military science department, probs for cussing someone out.

Angry, loud, and emotional af.

Loved drinking with John and his frat boy friends.

No one messed with him if they valued their life.

Started one too many fights and got suspended for reals. Almost beat a man to death but we don’t talk about that.

He gets stressed really easily so in his free time he draws horses.

When he gets real mad he takes it to the campus boxing ring and punches to his hearts content.

On his way back to his dorm one night he saw a girl who was in his agriculture class. She was cute and also in a “Christian” ministry group on campus. He decided to chat her up when she was preaching, just to see what it was about.

They later dated but then she cheated around with a fellow churchy man and just went off the rails. When he found out it wasn’t pretty.

Her friends and pastor most likely shamed her cuz she be ✨sinning✨. Therefore not helping her mental state.

Her name was Linda. Never trust a Linda.

Everyone tried to console Arthur but only boxing and drinking at Johns frat house did the trick.

Tommy often had to run to his dorm in the middle of the night to talk him out his mental breakdowns. College is hard.

In the end, he was glad he did agriculture even if his crazy ex would constantly stare at him during lectures, probably plotting his demise.

Some days he’d take out his frustrations by chopping wood and helping out on the farm where he worked and studied most days.

But you bet your ass fuckin’ Linda showed up to his dorm one time though with a gun and tried to shoot him, but she didn’t know his brothers and aunt were there too. Polly may have shot her in the arm tho. But when the campus PD showed up shit really went down.

We don’t know where Linda is now, but that’s probs for the best.

John Shelby:

Major: Music (idk I felt like he’s a musical boi) Minor: Military Science/ROTC

He’s a frat boy through and through. He drops it low on the dance floor and is known to dive onto beer pong tables.

Constantly going to parties and hooking up with sorority girls, that is until he meets a girl named Esme who’d been dragged to the party by her friends.

Suddenly he ain’t no hoe no more, he’s head over boots in love with her and she loves him too.

They be sneaking around in various buildings, often having to make a run for it to escape security.

He’d play her songs after hard training days with his military buds cuz it helps him calm down.

He’s not as violent as his older brothers, but he’ll fuck a person up if needed.

His fraternity is the second most important thing to him besides his girl. He loves the energy of the fraternity, the partying, and acting a whole fool with his friends, but Esme has him whipped.

His studies are struggling though cuz he loves to get turnt. He hates the studying aspect of college.

Always getting his brothers into trouble.

Snorts coke off Esme’s tits on occasion at the frat parties. It’s a wild time.

Has the mouth of a sailor but a heart of gold.

Talks of kids with Esme after dating for a year. Can’t afford a ring yet tho, but their bud Jeremiah marries them anyway on a whim.

After Arthur and the Grace fiasco ensues, he drops out of college because Esme falls pregnant. In the end, she ends up getting the chickens and wild cottage!core house she’d always wanted. They both decide to raise their kids there, living their best lives until Tommy drags them into more family matters later on.

Ada Shelby:

Major: English Minor: Gender & Women’s Studies

Always seen in the most stylish clothes.

She’s quiet most times but can be very knowledgeable on various subjects.

She’s constantly going off on her older brothers and trying to smack some sense into them.

Feels like something is off with the barista Tommy’s been seeing, but it’s not her problem.

Can 100% find her chilling in the back of Starbucks reading old novels or writing literature reviews.

When she’s not there, she’s holed up in the library where she works part time, studying and practicing for debates.

10/10 would fuck in the library cuz she knows all the best secret places to go to. 😏

Organizes meetings with different campus associations and demands equality for students.

Spends her free time surfing the net for clothes or keeping an eye out for a potential new bae.

Is probably the best at studying. She earns the best grades let’s be honest.

Will not hesitate to call a bitch out. She may not throw hands but she’ll throw words that can cut you like a knife.

Works for the campus paper, spilling all the tea on campus life. Her brothers often reluctantly agree to be her mock interview subjects for a range of assignments.

She breaks necks when walking around campus, everyone moves out of their way for her.

She’s a bad bitch.

Finn Shelby:

Major: Photography Minor: English

He hates how violent his brothers are but would 10/10 back them up if needed.

Often asks Ada for advice on studying and girls.

Doesn’t like the frat boy scene like John, but goes to the parties anyways with his best friends Isiah and Bonnie.

He’s a freshman and you can tell. He still has a glimmer of life in his eyes and a pep in his step as he walks around campus.

When he’s not taking pictures for class, he’s taking pictures of his girlfriend.

She’s his muse even when doing the simplest of things like sitting in a chair or reading one of his English books.

Each week he’d surprise her with a picture he took when she wasn’t looking, telling her how beautiful she is.

He may not look strong, but after many nights at the boxing ring with Arthur, he knew how to throw a punch.

He almost flunked his studies a couple times, getting too caught up in partying or being with his girl, but Ada and his Aunt Polly set him straight.

Voted by his family as most likely to not get arrested or suspended from college.

He’d have deep conversations with his friends, often confusing them because it was just that deep.

In his spare time he’d go boxing with Arthur or would try to help Tommy with his essays, but Tommy would get frustrated and tell him to fuck off within the first 10 minutes.

Polly Gray:

Profession: Business Management Professor Side Job: Managing the blinder business with Tommy

When she’s not teaching class, she’s managing the blinder business that was left to her and Tommy to tackle. This also means covering up any suspicions that arise on campus. She has her hands full.

She’s Tommy’s only shred of common sense some days when he gets too stressed out from his 10,000 majors and minors, or wants to plan to overthrow the university.

Will not hesitate to slap someone, preferably her unruly nephews.

Anyone can lie to her but the truth always falls through the cracks, and when she finds out, you’d pray you faced the devil instead.

In her spare time she reads tea leaves and prays for the corrupt souls of her son and his cousins. She really just begs to god that they can come together for once to get the business in line, but even that may be asking too much.

Knows a snake when she sees one. *cough* *cough* Grace the barista.

She’s the first one to tell someone I told ya so, especially her students when they flunk her tests because they decided to get drunk the night before.

When she’s not yelling at her nephews or grading papers, she can be seen at the local bar chatting up coworkers and old flames, hoping to find “the one” eventually. She ends up having a “thing” for the quirky Philosophy professor though. He’s kind of shady cuz she finds out he’s in a similar business on the side, but it only makes her like him more. She craves the danger.

They later end up in a whirlwind romance similar to John and Esme, and everyone loves that for them.

She can also be seen with her head in her hands when trying to persuade Tommy to use technology.

“What is copy and paste Pol? Can’t I just write it down? What’s up with all these gadgets aye?”

“If you want your hand to fall off and to make me lose my mind, then yes, write it down. Grading is bloody hard enough as it is, let alone grading your papers. You’re just like your father ya know, always doing things the hard way.”

Tells Gina off when she gets the chance just like she did Grace. She didn’t shoot her like Linda though, she just hurt some feelings.

May have aided in Grace’s “sudden” departure…maybe…just a little bit.

Secretly ships Tommy with a woman named Lizzie who had been her assistant at her office. She knew she could trust her more, at least.

Despite her harshness, she’s just trying to keep her family from completely fucking up their lives.

Michael Gray:

Major: Accounting Minor: Business Management

Like Tommy, he doesn’t get the hype of fraternities so he just hangs out with his cousins or his small circle of friends, they aren’t saints though.

His mom, Polly is his business management professor. She always calls on him and gives him a hard time when he spaces out in class.

Is often seen around campus with a few friends or his girlfriend Gina who he met in business class. They’re sickening and it was like a whirlwind romance tbh.

He usually finds himself cleaning up his cousin’s messes when it comes to fighting, but if he has to throw some punches he will.

He’s not as impulsive when it comes to matters of business, but where matters of the heart are concerned that’s another story.

When the blinders and Polly were all at her house for dinner one night he announced he was going to marry Gina. Arthur and John laughed and Tommy smirked slightly, still butt-hurt after his Grace left him for little-to-no reason. Ada grinned and bared the news whilst Polly nearly smacked him on the head.

People didn’t dare mess with him, and that went for all his cousins as well.

He spent a majority of his days in class crunching numbers, and most his nights out with the boys getting drunk or fuckin’ with Gina.

Because his mom held him accountable, his grades rivaled Ada’s causing them to get into some friendly competition at times.

He’s cunning like Tommy though. He got into many a screaming match with the older blinder after trying to take over his position in the family business. It ended in some black eyes and Polly smacking both of them with her newspaper. He knew better than to mess with the devil himself.

Despite the tensions between the cousins at times, he’s always the one they go to when they can’t figure out their math homework, and he’d always have to meet one of them in the library at 3 am to smuggle in some cocaine and a drink to keep them studying.

#katies headcanons #thomas shelby #arthur shelby #john shelby #ada shelby #finn shelby #polly gray #michael gray #peaky blinders headcanons #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders #can y’all tell I’m obsessed with the dark academia aesthetic lately?

198 notes · View notes

okayeojin · 4 years ago

Text

loona reaction to you showing up at their house crying or injured

➢ ☁️; angst

TW: mention of bľoød, abűsê, viôlęnçė, ... i highly suggest you scroll past this if you're uncomfortable or sensitive to these topics

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。• ..・。.・゜✭・. ° • .

heejin

you and heejin had hung out the whole day, spending time together and having fun. you had a picnic! and it was so cute. was it a date?heejin blushed whenever she thought about it because... oh my god, she didn't know whether you considered that a date. her mind was so full of thoughts that she only managed to fall asleep at 2am. just an hour before she heard some insisting knocking on her front door. as scared as she was, looking into the peep hole in the darkness, she wasn't expecting to see you on the other side of the door. "y/n?" she mumbled, her voice trembling. she slowly opened the door when you hummed in response, almost falling on your knees as heejin completely opened the door to let you inside. she almost yelled when she asked if you were okay, catching you in her arms to prevent you from hitting the floor. the more you stayed silent, without giving her a proper response, the more she grew worried, carrying your body all the way to the couch, finally turning on the lights, almost screaming in shock. now visible, on your face, were countless scratches, not to mention the huge black eye, and many splotches of blood, some of it dry. your clothes were also a mess, a mix of dirt and blood. "also, my arm might be broken" you commented, smiling but hissing in pain right after. she immediately ran to get the first aid kid, taking care of you as well as possibile, ignoring the tears strimming down her face and the sound of her sniffling. you tried to look at her face but she refused, making you promise to tell everything that had happened to you.

hyunjin

it was very late her night, hyunjin knew that she had to go to sleep as soon as possibile -and she truly wanted to- but the unfinished assignment on her laptop told her otherwise. also, the fact that she still had the chat with you opened and that you still hadn't replied to her message, that she had sent two hours before, was making her anxious. she tried to brush away any kind of negative thought. maybe you had simply fallen asleep, it wasn't unusual of you, and it was also way past midnight. she sighed loudly, adjusting her posture on the couch, streching her neck from side to side until the vision of a dark shadow, seen through the glass of her front door, make her heart skip a beat- or many. she covered her mouth with both hands, cursing under her breath when you announced yourself, calling her name. she stomped on her way to the door, unlocking and opening it angrily. "what has gotten into you?! first ignoring my messages and then appearing at 2am like a ghost- wait are you crying?". she instantly regretted her words as soon as she noticed your desperate face: your cheeks red and full of tears, your eyes puffy, and not to mention your whole body trembling. she let you inside in less than a second, closing the door behind you and welcoming you on her couch, offering you something warm to drink, before you interrupted her, sobbing, and whispering "my dad..." partially taking off your shirt to show her all the bruises on your skin.

haseul

she was patiently waiting for you on the couch, occasionally looking over at the clock to check the time and trying to stop her legs from trembling so much. she wasn't worried for you. at all. you were just almost an hour late. but she wasn't worried. you would came and finally have the nice dinner that you had promised her weeks before. you simply had to ask your parents for permissions. who she knew you didn't have a really good relationship with. she had just picked up the phone to text you, just in case, when the doorbell finally rang making her flinch and put a hand on her heart. she sighed and happily ran to the door to welcome you. that, if she didn't find you literally in tears, with two huge bags on both your shoulders, looking at her disperately. haseul had so many questions, she had her mouth parted but no words coming out and her eyes were looking at you up and down, her hand still on the door handle to hold it open. "c can i stay here?" you asked, your voice trembling and tears falling down, making haseul realize that you were, in fact, standing in silence like two idiots. she asked you what happened, unsure if you would actually tell her or preferred to keep it for yourself, at least in that moment. "my parents kicked me out..." you replied with a bitter smile on your face, unable to look at her but rather facing down, until your girlfriend put a warm hand on your cheek, wiping away your tears but also raising your head to made your eyes meet. she smiled at you and you two ended up hugging, comforted by simply being in each other's arms.

yeojin

you were actually meant to meet up at your house to play a new video game you were just gifted for your birthday and she was very excited about it! she deadass couldn't wait to both spend some quality time with you and to also try this new game, of course. she had gotten ready a lot of time prior to the actual time you had agreed to meet, and she was heading to your place way earlier than what you had decided. that, if you didn't text her last minute to ask if you could change the meeting spot to her house instead. she didn't question it, she just agreed and went back inside her own house. luckly her parents weren't home, otherwise they would probably complain about all the yelling and noise you two would be making. at that point, she had been waiting for you for half an hour already, and your house wasn't even that far from hers, reason why she was getting quite worried. she had been waiting on her couch while frequently looking over at the front door. maybe you were trying to prank her or something. she was just about to call you on the phone when someone finally knocked on the door. she got up sighing heavily, finally relieved you were there and safe. "y/n finally! i thought you had ditched me! i know im better than you at video games and you don't wanna lose every time we-" she stopped mid sentence as soon as she opened the door. "...play..." she looked at you up at down, concerned "y/n what happened?!". you were crying. a lot. one of your cheeks was bright red and you were shaking right there in front of her. you looked like an abandoned puppy and she was about to cry too. she let you inside without a second thought. "did someone hit you?!" she asked frantically, trying to get some ice for that bruised cheek. "m my mom hit me" you mumbled under your breath, tears streaming down your face all over again. "i came out to her as gay and she... i guess she didn't like that" you smiled bitterly while explaining to her what happened, making her stop on her way to get ice, to look at you and hug you so tightly you felt breathless, but so much better already. at that point she was crying too, comforting you that she would be your friend not matter what and that she would accept you just the way you are.

vivi

you two had just finished hanging out not too long before. you had met at vivi's place to have some nice dinner, just the two of you, and you had left almost an hour before. vivi was washing the dishes, even though you had offered to help, she insisted you went home and got some sleep instead, and so you did. drying off her hands, satisfied she managed to clean the kitchen not too late at night, she began day dreaming about the long long night of sleep she was about to get. she was really tired, indeed. however, it took probably two minutes after that thought for the doorbell to ring. she was quite annoyed to say the least, but in all honesty, she actually thought it could be you. who else would show up at 11 pm at her house? maybe you forgot something? you should be more careful with your stuff, little one. that's what she always told you. she looked into the peep hole and it was definetely you, but you were looking behind, looking worried. she frowned in confusion, opening the door. "hey are you oka-" she couldn't even finish the sentence that you literally bursted inside her house and closed the door. she was about to ask so many questions, but as soon as she saw you face covered in blood and you holding your arm painfully, she knew that clearly something was wrong and asked for explanations. "y/n what the- did you get into some weird stuff?! what happened to you? i- did they break your arm?! " . she was so confused and concerned, and lowkey mad, because you weren't even crying, or confused, you looked like you knew this was something that could have happened any time. and it made her so worried and confused, asking you question. you promised to tell her everything.

kim lip

she wasn't at home. she had to run some errands and clumsly forgot her phone, and being too late to go back and get it once she had gone out, she decided to leave it be. she wouldn't be out for more than an hour anyway. also she didn't think something would actually happen while she was away. she had previously told you she had to go out that day and that you could only hang out in the late afternoon, so you suspected you probably wouldn't find her home if you had to go there. heavily breathing with four shopping bags in her hands, kim lip was heading home. it actually took a bit more than an hour, contrary to what she had planned, and the fact that she couldn't warn you that she would be late was bugging her, forcing herself to walk a bit faster so she could text you. however, she wasn't expecting to find you already there. in front of her house. she approached you, slowing down her steps. what were you doing sitting on the ground with your back pressed against the front door? wait. were you crying?! she sped up once again, dropping her bags on the ground to kneel in front of you and take your face in her warm hands. that's when she noticed you black eye. gasping in surprise, she asked you what happened, letting you inside the house after she saw you struggling to talk because of all the sobs and tears you were letting out.

jinsoul

jinsoul was literally an angel. your angel, in that case. she knew about your situation, how hard things were for you at home. and especially, how abusive your mother was. she would point out every single thing that she thought was wrong about you; the way you dressed, if you cut or dyed your hair, the way you wouldn't say hi to her sometimes. and she would get mad at everything, usually threathening to kick you out of the house if you didn't change your behaviour. jinsoul knew it all. she was your safe space. literally. she was always willing to let you crash at her space whenever you needed to. she would make you feel more at home than your actual home. it didn't matter if you texted her beforehand or if you showed up without warning at her door, she would always open it for you. and you were so thankful. that day was nothing jinsoul hadn't experienced before. she heard your signature knocking and knew it was you before she even got to the door. opening it with a big smile, her eyes instantly fell to the huge bags you had in your hands, raising her gaze once again to see you crying with a smile on your face, as if to say "yes, it happened again! im here now", and she couldn't help but cover her mouth in surprise when she noticed the big red spot on your cheek. you explained to her how, after the nth time of your mother telling you to get out of your house, you actually did. jinsoul reassured you that you could stay at her house for how long you needed before you found an apartment all for yourself.

choerry

choerry wasn't really doing much that particular day, actually. she would simply walk around the house, desperately looking for something to do, but not succeeding. she even tried watching some makeup and hair tutorials on youtube to try them on herself. however, the fun didn't last much once she realized she has way more fun doing these things with you. “i’m so bored!” she exclaimed while throwing herself on the bed, sad about the fact that she has already asked you to hang out but you were actually spending time with your partner that day, and you sadly refused but promised to see each other the next day! she didn't realize she had fallen asleep on the bed in the same position she had thrown herself on it just some moments before, when the doorbell brought her back to reality, waking her from her slumber. she rubbed her eyes while yawning loudly and turned on her phone to check the time. luckily it was still daytime, she hadn't slept for too long. whoever was on the other side of the door kept ringing the door bell quite insistently, making her groan and yell "coming!". she opened to door and found you, her usually giggly and bubbly friend, trembling like a leaf, looking way smaller than your actual self, tears running down your flushed cheeks and pure terror in your eyes. after letting you in, she hugged you so tightly and her eyes widened when you whispered in her hear "it was them... they hit me..." referring clearly to your partner, making choerry clenching her fists around your shirt in anger.

yves

it was an incredibly sunny day, it was the perfect afternoon to go out on a walk just you with your pretty girlfriend, wandering around while holding hands. both of you really treasured moments like that. being both two busy and working adults, it was extremely refreshing to step out of the house, far away from work, even for a little bit. you also liked spending time with yves without a plan. you didn't feel like you had to do something in particular to have fun with her, just being in her company was more than enough for you. you reached a small park, pretty empty at that hour, being way too hot for children to play, and you spot a bench covered by the shadow of a big tree. figuring it would be less hot under there, you headed towards that direction, abruptely stopping when you heard the desperate cries of what seemed to be a puppy. alarmed, you looked aroung and finally noticed some young adults laughing and taking turns beating a helpless, scared and definetely injured dog. you of course ran in that direction, taking the puppy in your arms and yelling at the guys to stop. cursing at you, they all left, and you took the puppy at home with you. needless to say, yves was rather worried when you decided to go out again in the same park, later in the evening, to check if those guys were still there to report them to the police for animal abuse. and when you came back, your face quite beaten up, blood splattered on your face and also your clothes, she was in absolute shock, shaking while taking care of your wounds. "don't be worried about me babe, you should have seen them" you tried to cheer her up, only earning a punch in the arm from her, who was now sniffing silently. "shut up and never to that again!" she looked down and then up at you again "but you are so brave and kind hearted, i love you so much..."

chuu

you and chuu were commonly known by almost all the people in your small town as the sunshine couple. everyone would say you two were literally meant to be together, you fit so well with each other it was almost insane, you completed each other in a way, but mostly you two were both so bubbly and adorable that your existance only could make people smile. everyone at school knew you two were together. or almost everyone. chuu would receive quite an overwhelming amout of confessions, both from guys and gays girls. she would always feel mortified to reject them, but she only had eyes for you, who were the only person that could make her feel that way, always loved and special. that until you met a quite persistent dude, who literally proposed to chuu in front of you, cussing at her and insulting you when she rejected him. and he wasn't even willing to leave; he was getting so loud and scary that other people had to step in to drag him out of there. on your way back home after school, you were both quite worried, but you were the one raging the most. "promise me you won't do anything stupid" she begged you with teary eyes, scared that you would get in trouble with that scary guy. you dropped her off at her house and left with a kiss and some reassuring words, your heart warming after seeing her cute smile. however... it wasn't really long after that you knocked on her door, only to see her face become pale at the fact that you were even struggling to stand up, your nose bloody and bruises all over you. she almost screamed in terror, asking you what happened and helping you inside the house so she could take care of your wounds. at that point she was basically in tears, trying to wipe away the blood on your pretty face. you smiled- even if it hurt to even do that- and caressed her cheeks, telling her not to worry. "i would literally punch you for saying this nonsense but you are already beaten up enough. of course i worry, you dummy!"

gowon

you were supposed to meet up with gowon after your night shift at a convenience store. a part time job that she, personally, wasn't very happy you choose to do, considering how dangerous it could be for you. you were someone who could stand for themselves, you didn't really need anyone to protect you or, at least, that's what you would tell gowon to not make her worry too much. your job was indeed not the easiest one for you too, but it allowed you to sustain and survive. you needed that small income. but was it really worth your safety? you had just closed, after a few rude or drunk customers, and were relieved to finally go back home. night shifts were... scary, indeed, but not many people would show up really, expect for, yes, drunk dudes and sometimes sketchy people trying to shoplift and what not. gowon had been patiently waiting for you on her couch, happily preparing some snacks to spend some quality time with you! she had set up everything very neatly- food, cozy blankets and what not- and was waiting patiently for you on the couch, excitedly moving her feet, looking at the door expecting you to come in. when you rang the doorbell and she sprung up to open it, her smile dropped and disappeared when you showed up with a black eye and some blood on your face and clothes. she was about to scream when you told her not to worry and simply let you inside. she was sobbing while you were trying to wash your dirty clothes. "please... leave that job...". you stopped to look at her. you couldn't see her so broken and sad. "i will".

olivia hye

you had to meet up with your best friend, after endless discussions about the fact that you hadn't seen each other for the past week and neither of you were happy about it. you decided to bring back the good ol' movie night, that you had to cancel because of a heated discussion about whether the protagonist was an idiot or not for getting himself almost killed. the night ended with hyejoo blaming you for the poor choice of movie and the neighbours complaining for the noise. but since you had nothing else to do, she had invited you to go to her house to sit in front of the tv, basically. she was however worried about the fact that you had told her you were going quickly to your ex's house to pick up some things you had left there, and then you would be heading straight to her. hyejoo didn't like your ex. at all. she always knew something was fishy about them; theory being comfirmed when they started yelling and being harsh with you for no reason. you had decided to leave them for good, but your best friend was afraid it wouldn't end so quickly. she ran to the door after she heard your signature knocking- so she knew it was you- and she gasped in surprise when she saw you holding your bruised arm and your flushed cheeks, where some scratches could be seen, slightly bleeding. "that motherfuck-" she began, furiously heading out of her house, before you stopped her and briefly whispered to her "please stay with me, don't go..." and seeing your painful expression and your teary eyes was enough to make her stay. "but i swear they are gonna pay for what they did to you".

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。• ..・。.・゜✭・. ° • .

masterlist:°•☆

155 notes · View notes

your-daily-biaswrecking · 4 years ago

Text

Serva me, Servabo te

save me and I will save you

pairing: photographer!Taehyung x f.reader (oc)

more characters: Jimin x Yoonji

genre: angst, slight enemies to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut

word count: 4.6k | reading time: 25 min

summary: Somehow you end up having to share a Victorian Manor (that may or may not be haunted) with a person you really dislike: Kim Taehyung

warnings: nothing specific in this chapter, some swearing and toxic traits

A/N: Amy= Army= reader:)

All chapters | Masterlist | Read on AO3

Chapter 1: The tragic state of affairs

An hour and a half long car drive and you still managed to be in the middle of nowhere. You could almost swear the dirt road was leading to nothing, but the occasional sign swore otherwise. You sighed. How had you gotten yourself into this, again? Oh, yeah.

-9:34 pm, the day before-

A loud thud followed by an inhuman growl produced from the deepest pits of hell reached your ears in the kitchen. I guess you couldn't ignore her any longer. You leaned past the door, peeping at your roommate cocooning on the floor.

"Uh... You good?" She immediately started mumbling with fiery passion and you couldn't understand a single word. That meant no. "What did Jimin do this time?"

Yoonji sat up, turning her spine abnormally to look at you. "He's an idiot," you managed to hear.

You pressed your lips together and nodded. "Right. You guys broke up. Is he still bothering you, what is it?" You walked to her and squatted down to her level. You noticed her cheeks were bloody red and stained with tears, her mouth giving you a pout. But you were unbothered.

"He won't let me go tomorrow," she complained.

"The Manor you guys had booked?"

"Yeah!"

"Why won't he let you go?"

"No, I mean... He says I can go but he says he'll go too and I don't want to see him," Yoonji mumbled while wiping her tears with the back of her hand.

Your immediate thought was to tell her to just go since they were going to make up eventually anyway. Seriously, the two of them broke up and got back together like twice a week. Sometimes it looked more serious, sure, but you had fallen for it too many times to believe it now. You would only be sure the two of them were done for real when... Well, actually, never. "So, you don't want to lose your vacation but you want to have the whole house to yourself?" you asked and she nodded. "Well, since you both paid for this, I'm sorry to tell you, but he has just as much right to go as you. You should have thought about that before you broke up over- what was it again? Dumplings?" I mean, this had to be some type of kink or something at this point. They had to be into breaking up and chasing each other all the time. Maybe it was the make-up sex, who knows.

Finally, one of the road signs pointed to the right for a turn. 200 m it said. You breathed out in relief; you were starving and so sleep deprived, you feared you'd drive your car into a ditch by the road. In front of you stood a large gate with an astounding metal design. It was open and you carefully drove in. Your breath hitched the moment the house came into view. What house? That was a whole palace! With three floors, a garden bigger than the nearest park to your apartment, and about a million windows adorning its two wings. So caught up in the drama, you hadn't even had the chance to see a picture to prepare yourself for the beauty of the Victorian artifact. Your jaw on the floor, all you could do was laugh.

Say, how had you managed to get here again? Right, right...

-11:04 pm, the day before-

There was a soft knock on your bedroom door and you hummed in reply. Yoonji burst in with great contrast to her knocking, dashing for the foot of your bed and plopping herself on it with nerve. You paused your texting on your phone momentarily to turn your eyes on hers, noting her tears were all dried up now, a frown in their place.

"I told him I'm not going 'cause I don't wanna see his stupid face," she announced.

The corners of your mouth turned downwards. "Good for you. I'm sure the house isn't worth it, you can do your vacation elsewhere."

"But now he says he's not going..."

You thought about it for a second, then got back to your texting. "Great. Isn't that what you wanted? Now, you can go."

The girl leaned over your legs, trying to catch your attention again with wide eyes full of conspiracies. "But... What if he's bluffing?"

You paused again. Damnit, why was this even making sense? You'd say Jimin is not capable of doing something like that... if you actually thought it to be true. "So, don't go." You looked at her again to make sure your point was getting across. "Yoonji, don't go. That way no matter if he goes or not, you still won't see his stupid face."

A middle-aged woman dressed to fit right into the aesthetic of the Manor greeted you on the big steps of the entrance with something like the enthusiasm you only show your favorite aunt on Christmas. "You must be Ms. Min Yoonji," she called before you even had the chance to reach her.

"Must I?" you replied, immediately following it with a peal of fake laughter.

The woman chuckled and walked towards you. With a closer look, you noticed how youthful her face looked, and how undeniably pretty she was. Definitely looking like a noblewoman who would be in charge of something like this mansion. "Welcome, I'm Mrs. Kim. I'm glad you're here, your partner is already inside," she said.

Oh... So he was bluffing.

You smiled. "Thank you. The place looks stunning."

"Oh, I'm hoping you'll get to enjoy all of its beauty to the maximum this week you'll be spending here," the woman said as she guided you towards the entrance." Just to let you know, every room is at your disposal, the kitchen is fully equipped and with every kind of food you might crave. Housekeeping is daily and with a very discreet staff. I have already given a tour to your partner."

You pushed the heavy door open and walked in, immediately hugged by a heavy but warm atmosphere with a strong, musky scent. Right across from you, there was a big, double staircase with a magnificent chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. All you could do was look around with a stupid face. Jimin was getting Yoonji this type of vacation and she had the audacity to fight with him? How had they even afforded this? You totally understood why your roommate was throwing a tantrum wanting to come here. Why had she even let you come instead?

-12:56 am, the day before, or more accurately, this day but super early-

"Amy... Amy..." You were startled awake, barely making out the silhouette of Yoonji hovering above you in the darkness. "Were you sleeping?" she whispered.

You exhaled and pushed her away, groaning. "Yoonji, a piece of advice: if you have to shake someone for them to answer you, yeah, they were sleeping!"

"Sorry," she said but definitely didn't mean it. She scooted you over to sit next to you. "Hey, so... I was thinking. Maybe you should go."

Be it the sleep or your roommate speaking utter nonsense, all you could think was: "What?"

"Well, I don't wanna go in case Jimin goes, but I also don't wanna let him have the house to himself -you know, out of spite- so maybe you should go." Yoonji blinked at you expectingly but it was still too complicated for you to process. "I mean, you're gonna have a good time, Amy. The house is amazing, I promise, this is a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity, okay? I thought if I let you go then we could also be even for the time you did that assignment for me and got me an A? What do you say?"

You frowned, starting to shake your head. "Yoonji-"

"Please, I just want you to annoy him by just being there, you know? Also, he might not even go. Then you'll have a whole Manor to yourself for a whole week! You can take your books with you and enjoy some time away from society, right? Pretty please..."

Your frown deepened, but you started to think about what she was saying. "You really would rather just give up your vacation to a Victorian Mansion or whatever it is to your roommate than let Jimin have it to himself?"

"Absolutely, yeah."

Well, you couldn't think of a reason to say no to that.

Mrs. Kim finished her welcoming speech with a smile. "In the library, you will find a map of the hiking routes of the forest. There is a mushroom picking one that I wholeheartedly recommend. Of course, anything you might need, you can always pick up our vintage phone -it works perfectly- and call us any time of the day and night."

You gave her a genuine grin and nodded. "Thank you very much, Mrs. Kim!" And after that, the beautiful woman opened the door and left. Where to, you had no idea, since you doubted there was any kind of civilization nearby.

You dragged your suitcase to the bottom of the staircase, about to lift it and go find one of the surely many rooms to occupy. But in the silence of it all, you noticed a fire cracking in the background. So silent, it felt like you and the fire were the only things alive for miles. Yet Jimin must have been roaming somewhere in this Manor.

Huh... He still hadn't shown up at the entrance to check if Yoonji had come? Surely, he must have heard the commotion made but you two ladies.

You released your grip on your suitcase and slowly walked towards the room the fire seemed to be coming from. You wanted to find him and enjoy his face when he would see you instead of his girl- well, ex-girlfriend. You passed through a small hallway, little rooms with cabinets and bookcases until you reached a slightly ampler room that had a lit fireplace. It looked like a sitting room, with a pair of scarlet, velvet armchairs and a matching sofa. There was a large, thick carpet that covered almost the entire floor, and an ebony coffee table in the middle. On the right, a window that expanded from floor to ceiling, but was however half-hidden behind a rich curtain.

You were about to go towards the fireplace before you noticed the slim man standing tall by that window. Looking outside, turned opposite to the entrance. You almost didn't notice him as the colors and textile of his outfit matched the room so well. His brown, a little wavy hair tucked messily behind his ears, light silver glasses sitting low on his nose, hands in his pockets. He was wearing a sweater vest over a beige shirt and baggy trousers and was standing like a model. Something very off about him that you didn't immediately recognize.

"Oh." The interjection left your lips without your command. And at the sound of your voice, he turned around to face you.

-10:46 am, this morning-

You had left your apartment more than a long time ago, Yoonji was expecting that you would have arrived by now and waiting for your news. Had Jimin gone too? How had he reacted? She tried calling you a couple of times but was only met with voicemail. Maybe you didn't have a good signal up in the mountains. Oh, no, how would you keep her up to date now?

Her cellphone buzzed and she rushed to see the message she assumed was from her roommate. It turned out to be her ex.

"You didn't go, then?"

Yoonji laughed. How wicked of her. He must have just seen you arrive at the Manor, instead of her. So he was lying about not going, just as Yoonji had predicted. She flipped her hair from her shoulder dramatically and quickly typed her reply.

"Of course not, I told you I wasn't going."

She couldn't stop giggling like a little girl.

"Cool... Just so you know, I felt bad wasting this already paid vacation, so..."

Yoonji rolled her eyes, still giggling.

"Let me guess. You went by yourself?" How pathetic... He really thought his little trick would work.

"No."

Wait, what?

"I myself didn't go..."

Yoonji blinked.

Come again?

Your eyes widened when you realized the man in front of you wasn't Jimin. The man in front of you was...

"Kim Taehyung? What are you doing here?"

He was about to open his mouth to reply when your phone interrupted you. Without taking your eyes off the man and with a deep frown on both of your faces, you took it out of your pocket and answered. Yoonji's voice started ringing immediately from the other end.

"Amy! Finally! I've been trying to call you for ages. Did you arrive yet? I wanted to tell you Jimin isn't coming. He said he let Tae go." You rolled your eyes. "Can you hear me, Amy? The signal is so bad... Amy, the idiot did the same thing I did and sent Taehyung! Remember Taehyung? Jimin's best friend?"

You sighed. "Yeah... Way ahead of you. He's standing right in front of me." Your eyes traveled down his arms as he moved to fold them over his chest, tilting his head at you.

Yoonji let out an exasperated cry. "Ugh, man! So he told the truth... Look, I'm so sorry I got you into this. Amy, can you hear me? I hope you have no problem with him there. I know you guys are not close- wait, have you guys met? You have, right? Okay, I know you're not close but it'll be fine, right? Just don't pay attention to him and do your thing, yeah darling? Act the same as if Jimin were there, or as if you were alone. Amy, that's fine, right? You can do that, right? How is the house, is it awesome and totally worth it and you're totally not mad at me for sending you there with Tae? Huh? Amy?"

You sighed again. The signal was indeed bad. So you just hung up, hoping your roommate would blame your rudeness on that. Hiding your phone away again, you eyed Taehyung from head to toe. He was still glaring at you as if you'd stolen something from him. Well, I guess if he thought he'd have this whole place to himself, it was kind of like stealing. But that was only because he just happened to arrive first. Both of you had the same claim over the place. Or, well, neither of you did.

"Right, so..." you started since he didn't seem to be reacting any further. "I guess we'll have to stay together."

Suddenly, Taehyung started moving. His eyes still piercing yours and not a word out of his mouth, just a steady charge towards you.

"I-I know you didn't expect me-" you felt the need to mumble quickly, "-but I didn't expect you either!" Taehyung stayed silent, getting closer. "Okay, maybe we lied!" you exclaimed, your feet stepping behind each other. "But you guys lied, too!" There wasn't any more room to move and the man was now right in front of you, leaning into your personal space. "Taehyung, what-"

"Who are you?"

You were caught off guard. "What?" You thought he was joking, but he stayed looking at you with a serious face. "What do you mean who am I?" you sounded offended. "We've met before!"

"Have we?"

"Couple of times!"

Taehyung scanned your entire face before he shook his head. "I don't remember you."

Now you were offended. "I'm Amy!" you announced loudly. "Yoonji's roommate."

At last, he pulled away, his mouth opening in understanding. "Oh... Right, I knew Yoonji had a roommate by that name." He moved farther away but turned his head to you again. "I don't think I've seen you before, though."

You rolled your eyes and slipped around him to escape the place you had been trapped in earlier. "Alcohol does that sometimes," you snorted at him.

Taehyung rubbed his chin, looking at you differently now. You tried to avoid his eyes, examining the room more closely instead. The paintings on the walls, the black encyclopedia on the shelves, the candelabra and tea set on the small table. Every detail was thought of inside the house. "Why are you here, though?" he asked.

"Same reason as you, I assume."

He licked his bottom lip in the act of releasing a small chuckle. "Did you owe a favor to your best friend, too?"

You took out one random book and browsed its thin, yellow pages. "Actually, she owed me."

Taehyung raised his eyebrows in response, then started occupying himself with the little things around the room, as well. "They're ridiculous, aren't they?" You hummed in agreement and put the book back, moving along. "Do you think they might be done for real now?"

"No way." You moved to the smaller window behind the sofa and pulled its curtains away to look at the view. A hill decorated by a dense forest. "Yoonji is over her phone 24/7 waiting for him to text her."

He chuckled again. "I know for a fact Jimin is not taking this seriously. He laughs every time she texts him."

"As he should! She's a drama queen."

"Thank you!" Taehyung called out as if he had been struggling with this for a long time. With two long strides, he appeared next to you and forced you to look into his eyes. "Jimin gets mad at me every time I say that, but she is, isn't she?"

You were a little taken aback by how eager he seemed to be to find this one thing in common between the two of you: having had enough of your friends' relationship. You nodded with an amused smile. "Extremely."

He shook his head, pushing his hair back with a hand. "I honestly don't get how they make it work. Aren't they tired?" He turned serious again and looked at you with big eyes. "I could never have something like that. When I like someone, I want it to be Titanic, not Mr. and Mrs. Smith."

It took you a few seconds to reply, a little lost in his intense stare. But you shrugged. "I kind of get it. It keeps it fun and interesting. They've been together for three years now and yet it's still not boring. Like, they confess their love to each other every other week."

But he insisted. "I wouldn't need all of that to remind my girl how much I love her."

This was getting a little uncomfortable. He was a little too close, and a little too serious. So you leaned back and maneuvered around him, walking towards the door. "Alright, you do your thing with your relationship, they can do theirs." You turned to look at him right at the same time he did. "So, we'll be staying here together, right? I hope that's okay."

Taehyung shrugged just one shoulder. "If it's fine with you," he almost whispered.

You nodded once. "Well, as long as there is not only one bed," you smiled at your joke but he just frowned. You guessed he didn't read fanfiction. You cleared your throat. "The house seems big enough for the two of us, I'm sure we could go about our separate vacations without getting in each other's way."

"Sure, if that's what you want."

You nodded again and pointed to the door. "Should we choose our rooms?"

He clicked his tongue and moved past you. "Sorry, I have already chosen the big chamber on the east wing since I didn't expect company. You might want to get a room on the west wing to avoid me more efficiently." Taehyung walked quickly down the corridor without waiting for you, or even checking if you were following. Not that you had to be following, obviously. You thought he sounded a little annoyed, but you couldn't think of a reason why. If it was you being there, he'd have to get used to it 'cause you weren't going anywhere.

"Cool," you simply replied and followed. The man appeared in your line of view again only after you got in the lobby. He was standing by the staircase, looking at your abandoned suitcase. "I got it," you said automatically, only realizing he hadn't offered to carry it after he looked at you weirdly. You cleared your throat awkwardly, needing to change the subject. "Do you know where the kitchen is? I'm thirsty."

He motioned towards the corridor opposite the one you had just come from. "Down the hall, there's a small one," he said and started jogging up the stairs with his hands in his pockets.

You exhaled the moment he was out of view again. Being around him took up more of your energy than you expected. Which wasn't ideal for a vacation. The whole situation, to be honest, being isolated with Kim Taehyung in an old, strange house, wasn't ideal. You wondered if he felt so put out by it as you did while you walked around the house to find the kitchen. Definitely, you thought. He didn't want to be there with you, it was certain. Not necessarily because he'd shown something like that up until then, but because you knew exactly the type of guy he was. I'll tell you one thing: it wasn't a coincidence that you had such close, common friends, yet barely knew each other.

The kitchen was bigger than your living room, yet it was characterized as small? A long counter stretched all along the wall on the left, with three windows over it that overlooked the garden. There was an island in the middle and cabinets around the rest of the space. A very pleasant room, bright and with light colors on the furniture that went well with the green that posed on the window panes like self-illuminated paintings.

You put your whole face under the faucet and swallowed the very cold -cold like it was just now coming from a nearby river- water. After cleaning your dripping face with your hands, you did a short inspection. The cabinets and the fridge were filled with all kinds of foods, Mrs. Kim was right. You guessed that should have been the case, considering there weren't any markets anywhere close. But that also meant you had to cook all of your food. You and Taehyung. What were you going to do? Cook different meals or share?

That was a future problem. Now, you had to find a room. You dragged your suitcase up the stairs making a little too much noise and turned to the west wing without hesitation. There were a few rooms to choose from; a double room with navy blue wallpaper, a smaller one with a balcony, a more princess-looking room with a small bed and a boudoir. You picked the next one. It had a canopy, queen-sized bed with thick, purple curtains that matched the ones on the big window across the door, and a wooden wardrobe that looked like it was taken from the set of Beauty and the Beast. There was a small fireplace too, although it was not lit, it was still decorated.

A big smile appeared on your face at the sight of the cozy room. Perhaps the house would be worth it after all. Right before walking in, you quickly looked to your left, thinking you saw something, but when nothing was there you walked excitedly inside and closed the door. You tried opening the window to let some fresh air in, but it seemed to be stuck. Or maybe you just didn't know how to do it. It looked fragile and so you let it be, deciding against causing an accident. Instead, you took your clothes and your things out, organizing them around the room to make it more personal, and when you were done, you hoped on the rather tall bed with the softest mattress you had ever felt in your life and called your friend.

"Girl, you owe me big time after this!" you whisper-shouted at her when she picked up, still not certain of how soundproof the building was and not wanting to risk Taehyung hearing anything.

Yoonji giggled from the other end of the call. "Hey, girl! How is the Manor looking so far?"

"Oh, that part is fantastic," you said genuinely. "Still in awe you were stupid enough to let this thing go. But don't try to change my mind like that," you scolded her. You knew her too well for her manipulation to work on you. And she knew that, which is why she giggled again. "Why, oh, why is Kim freaking Taehyung here, Yoon?"

You could almost hear her pout. "Oh, babe, you know I didn't know he'd be there! It's not my fault."

"Well, yes, but when I agreed to do this, it was between having the place to myself or sharing with your boyfriend. I would–"

"Ex-boyfriend!"

"–much rather have Jimin here to annoy instead of stupid Taehyung annoying me," you said, rolling your eyes. You stared at the door then, thinking you'd heard something, but dismissing it as just the old house making noises.

"Oh, c'mon. Don't call him that. It's not his fault he got into this, either."

"You know how I feel about that boy!" you insisted.

"He's actually nice, Amy."

"To you. Because you're his best friend's girlfriend. He doesn't–"

"Ex-girlfriend..."

"–give a fuck about anyone else," you mumbled, playing with your hair. "Anyone who is beneath him and his stupid, rich ass is not worth being nice to, you know?"

Yoonji hummed. "I don't think he's that rich, he's just kind of famous. It's not the same."

You rolled your eyes and groaned. "That's not the point here." You got up and looked out the window. Air had picked up and was making the trees around the garden dance passionately. "I don't feel comfortable around him, so now I have to spend a whole week being weird and worried I might run into him no matter what I do."

Your roommate clicked her tongue disapprovingly at you. "Girl, I say give him a chance and get to know him. Who knows, you may become friends and when you get back we can all hang out together."

You smiled, raising an eyebrow even if she couldn't see it. "I thought you had broken up with Jimin, how are we gonna hang out all together?"

"Ah!" It really must have slipped her mind, too, which made it all that funnier. "You're right, don't become friends with him. You will never see him again, anyway," Yoonji was quick to correct herself.

You sighed, still smiling at your silly friend, as you propped one leg up on the window sill and leaned your head against the glass. "Can't I just leave, say, tomorrow?"

"Amy..."

"Too tired today," you added with a yawn.

"I think you should stay. First of all, if you leave, Jimin might come, and him with his self-proclaimed soulmate there would just make my blood boil, so we can't have that. But second of all, and most importantly, you are at a gorgeous Victorian Manor and all you do is complain about a gorgeous boy living with you. Things could be worse, Amy. He could have been an asshole and ugly." You burst out laughing. "So just enjoy it, okay? Fuck him and enjoy your stay. You won't ever get a chance like this again, Jimin paid for most of it, you know we could never afford that."

You rolled your eyes again, but as lovingly as you could. "Fine..." you succumbed to her words. "I guess I could put on my cute dress and go pick mushrooms and forget about the other guy."

Yoonji cheered. "That's the spirit! Go be a cottagecore fairy, baby, you deserve it."

"God, I hate you."

"Love you, too!"

Yeah, you should enjoy what you could from this. Maybe Taehyung wouldn't be such a pain in the ass. Not very likely, but maybe.

Next chapter

#kim taehyung #taehyung fanfic #bts #bangtan #v #fanfiction #multichapter #taehyung x reader #taehyung x oc #enemies to lovers #slow burn #agnst #bts x reader #serva me servabo te #save me and i will save you #chapter 1

63 notes · View notes