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thestarrynightslover · 4 years ago

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I'll Make It Okay for You - Part 2

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader

Word count: 2,765

Warnings: Discussion, yelling, some angst, mentions of drugs, drug abuse, drug withdrawal, rehab facility and insecurities/self-sabotage (very, very slightly, tho).

Summary: You can read Part 1 here. What happens when (y/n) (y/l/n), Harvey’s secret crush and a junior partner at his firm, openly defies him in front of everyone?

Disclaimer: I don’t own the show Suits, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: I think that this turned out better than Part 1? As always, I’m not sure, though. Just to make it clear here, I’m still on season 4 of Suits, so didn’t wanna get too much into any canonic details, self-preservation, lol. Anyhow, I hope you like it, and, ofc, feedback is always appreciated.

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

You and Harvey stayed in the embrace for a while, as you sunk in all the comfort emanating from him. He'd even started stroking your hair. The whole situation felt so intimate, that, by the time the two of you finally pulled away from each other, it was almost as if there was this cloud of embarrassment hovering around you both.

"Err… I'm s- sorry, I shouldn't have, um-" You started saying nervously but he cut you off.

"No, it's okay. And, um, I'm really glad you told me what happened… It's definitely a lot to deal with. And I was a complete asshole this morning. So I'm sorry." For a moment both you and Harvey just smiled at each other, sitting there in a comfortable silence. Until he decided to break it: "So, um, did you get her a lawyer? I'm assuming you wouldn't wanna represent her yourself because it could be problematic…"

"No, uh, yeah. It would be problematic.” You corrected him. “But the most I could do was make the cops get her a public defender, cause I called my dad when I was on the way there and he just wouldn't have me paying for anything else. He is a retired cop, so the pension isn't too great, the pride though… And I’m already covering Lisa's treatment because it's her best shot, but this…"

"And he wants to teach her a lesson." He completed what you were trying to explain.

"Yes."

"And you don't agree with him?" Harvey asked, almost reading your mind.

"Well, it's complicated. Because when I see what Kat's doing with her life… I get just as frustrated as my parents, and I really do want what's best for Henry." The fact that your sister wasn't what's best for her son was only implied. "But she's my little sister, you know?" As he nodded in understanding, you went on: "I wanna help her, but, at least for now, I think I'm just gonna wait and see if mom and dad change their minds… Which I think they will do! I mean, my dad was a cop for years. He knows what those places do to people. As much as we all desperately want her to get her shit together, I don't think that prison is where she'll succeed in doing so." You finished, voice filled with concern.

"Well, I don't think I would be as lenient, and compassionate, as you are, but I do see your point." Harvey told with a sympathetic smile. "Besides, she is your sister. And, trust me, I know what it is like to go out of your way to keep a sibling outta trouble." He added with a tired sigh, making you wonder how much you really knew about the man sitting in front of you.

"Either way, now I don't see much that I can do for her at the moment. Gonna try and have her attorney keep me posted, of course, but…"

"Yeah…"

"I just… I can't help but feel guilty about all of this, you know?" You said, after having stood up and turned your back on him, finally letting on what was bothering you the most to the other lawyer.

"No, not really, I don't." He stated simply while you just looked back at him with a shocked expression on your face. "I mean, there's not a single approach on this that makes me think you're to blame for anything." He explained himself, standing up as well this time.

"Harvey, I-"

"No, (y/n), let me stop you right there. What I see here is a family going through a rough situation with one of its members. Then three of the other members just try to do everything they can to get out of the initial situation, while another one just keeps making more problems for her family. And, right now? Today? You walked out on your bosses, risking a lot, to take care of your nephew. So, tell me again, how is it that any of these things happening to your sister are your fault when you’ve done nothing but help everyone in that goddamn family of yours, huh?" He asked you in a sarcastic tone.

“Well, it is very much my fault because I’m her big sister! I should have been there for her! Advising her, helping her, just, just being her friend…” You confessed your regrets to Harvey. “But, instead, I was too busy making my career.”

“And what the hell’s wrong with that? Look, I’m a big brother too. I get it. Ever since we were kids our parents imbued us with the role of ‘the responsible one’, always telling us to look after the youngest… But, hey! If you just threw all of your work up in the air and left running every time your sister had a run-in with a problem, you wouldn’t have made it this far! Not in this field anyway!” He practically spit the words in your face, going to battle with your self-sabotage, which was a very new side of you for him. “And you’re a freaking great lawyer! One of the best that firm’s ever seen. So don’t be sorry that you didn’t sacrifice all of that for being better than the amazing sister you probably already were!”

“You simply can’t know that.” You stated in a low voice, not really knowing how to respond to everything Harvey had just told you. He really thought all that about you?

“Yes, I can!” He yelled back, stepping closer towards you. “I can know that for a fact, because,” he started again, his face pretty close to yours this time, “because, I’m beginning to finally understand, even if just a little bit, who you really are. And because I always notice all the little things when it comes to you, which, in my experience, is how you actually get to know someone. You know, the details.” He told you in the sweetest tone, giving you a charming-Specter-like smile, he leaned closer, if that was even possible, God, was he gonna kiss you?

You had to pull away slightly, just enough for him to get the message. And, boy, how you regretted it! Sure, normally, you’d have a ton of bad things to say about him, but after that night… It wasn’t really that bad of an idea, the one of Harvey kissing you. No, nuh-uh! What were you thinking?! If much, you and Harvey were beginning a friendship there! And you couldn’t, or wouldn’t, let some ridiculous thoughts about how great he smelled rob you from that opportunity! Your inner struggle was interrupted by him saying:

“Hum, I- I should probably go, right? It’s, um, it’s getting pretty late…” He said nervously. You should be relieved right now. Because this assures that things between you and Harvey (your new friend?) aren’t gonna go too off the railroads anytime soon.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll, uh, I’ll walk you to the door.” So why is it that you sounded almost disappointed when you said that? “You know what they say, you gotta walk people to the door if you ever want them to come back…” You joked a little, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, right.” He shot back simply, with a small smile on his lips. “Bye, (y/n). Have a good night.”

“Thanks, you too.” You watched him turning around to leave when you remembered there was something else that Harvey deserved to hear from you. “Uh, Harvey!” You called out.

“Yeah?” He asked, turning back around to face you. And before you could even think it through one more time, you were already jumping in his arms, wrapping him in a tight hug.

“Thank you. For tonight. For everything.” You told him, as he slowly put his arms around your waist, hugging you back.

“It was no problem, (y/n), really. That’s what friends are for.” And, just like that, your day ⎼ turned into night ⎼ had gone from Earth to Hell, and, now, to Heaven.

---

Around 7:30 in the next morning, as you gathered some of your work stuff, you heard someone knocking on the door. Who could it possibly be this time? You asked yourself while walking there to open it.

Once again you were surprised to be met by none other than Harvey Your-New-Friend Specter standing at your doorstep. With your supposedly locked-up little sister in tow. What the hell?

“Before you say anything,” he started, “this time I come bearing gifts!” He practically beamed at you, as Kat threw herself in your arms.

“Yeah- yeah, um, I can see that.” You stated, still very confused with the whole situation.

“Thank you so much for sending your friend to bail me out, sis!” Your sister squealed out. She looked so pale and thin; winter-like clothes on, even though it was only the beginning of the fall; and she was shaking. Effects of a rushed withdrawal, you guessed. “You’re the best! Now, where’s my little baby?” She asked you, as if everything that had happened was nothing.

“He’s, uh, he’s in a day-care facility. The best in the city, you have nothing to worry about.” You informed her, who seemed rather relieved to hear that news. “Can you, uh, can you please stay here for a minute while I talk to my, uh, my friend in the office, Kat?” You asked her with a calm smile on your lips.

“Yeah, of course. I’m not gonna break anything I promise!” She told you, sounding a lot like a wicked child.

“No, um, I know you won’t. If you want something to eat, please, help yourself.” You assured her, motioning to the kitchen.

“Oh, no! I’m not hungry! Mr.Specter took me to a diner before we came here.” She let you know, which just made you even more surprised, and confused.

“Oh, he did? Well, that was very nice of yours, Harvey. So, come with me?” You asked him in a sort of mockery tone while pointing to the room he’d just been in, the night before.

As soon as the two of you stepped into the office, Harvey started desperately: “(y/n), before you come at me for not running this by you first, just, please, hear me out for a second.” He pleaded with you, to which you just nodded your head. “So, last night. I heard what you said about your dad, and you don’t have to worry about paying me anything. I’m representing your sister as a friend of yours.”

“Wait a second. You mean you’re taking this pro-bono? Harvey, you do that and the whole firm is gonna know. And you promised.” You quickly accused him, even though you were very thankful for the way he just stepped up to solve one of your problems.

“I know! Let me finish, will you?” You nodded again while muttering an apology. “I’m not going to break your trust. And I’m not handling this pro-bono. The only people I’ll have to loop in are Jessica and Donna. And you know they won’t say anything.” He told you, but you were still a bit confused. “And, before you even ask, no, that doesn’t mean that either you or your family will be paying me anything. Also, I got your sister a spot in a top-of-line, very discrete, rehab facility, I have a friend over there, who said we can drop her off at any time. I just, um, figured that it’d be the best if she got professional help this time. Plus, on my talk with her, she agreed to sign papers that make you and your parents Henry’s temporary guardians. I really think that Kat wants to turn her life around this time, (y/n). She was very- Did I do something wrong? Because, err, you know me… I always find it easier to ask for forgiveness instead of permission, but, this time, I really did think that this would make you happy...” He trailed off with a confused look on his face while scratching the back of his neck

“Oh, I am happy.” You told him, still looking absolutely stunned.

“Then why, uh, why don’t you look happy?” He asked, sounding a bit hurt.

“It’s just that… I’m kind of surprised. How did you even think of all those things?”

“I, uh, it’s like I said yesterday, I notice things about you. And I really listened to what you told me last night. So I just started thinking about ways that I could solve this thing for you, ways that I could make you happy again throughout all of this storm.” He told you and it had to be the sweetest thing you’d heard from Harvey (hell, from anyone!) in your entire life. “But I understand that I overstepped, and I’m-” But since he just wouldn’t stop talking anymore, you had to cut him off in order to shut him up.

His eyes were in absolute shock for a moment, as he just stood reactionless in your grip. But then he got the message and pulled you closer, grabbing your waist tightly while your hands stood firmly wrapped around his neck. You were pretty sure that neither one of you was still breathing at that point, but you didn’t care. Because, God, his mouth tasted so good in yours, it was like they’d been made to kiss each other. The despair both of you were investing in the kiss was huge, but it was turning into a calmer kind of fire, as the air started becoming too necessary again. He pulled your mouths apart for a minute, you resting your forehead on his shoulder.

“You know…” He started, still catching his breath. “When I mentioned you coming at me, I hadn’t really envisioned this.” He joked, a victory smile on his lips.

“Ah, well, you know how upset it makes me when you simply won’t shut up.” You shot back with a shrug of your shoulders, smiling at him.

“Huh. Wish you would’ve shut me up like this every other time.” He mocked, earning a smack in the arm from you. “Ouch! Why’d do that?”

“Because you were being a dickhead, ruining our moment.” You gave him a fake irritated glance.

“Oh, c’mon! Tell me you didn’t think about it too!” He challenged, and you didn’t feel like giving him that kind of win at the moment, so you just pulled him back in for another kiss. One that may have lasted a little longer than it should have, considering that you two still needed to take Kat to rehab and, then, go to work so you could try and save your job. But, what could you do if he, and his body, and his mouth, and his eyes, and his everything were the only things that mattered?

As he rested his chin on top of your head ⎼ that was laid on his chest ⎼, you looked up, pulling away a little, him making sure you wouldn’t fall off the small couch. “Thank you, Harvey. For everything you did. For listening. For being here right now. For everything.”

“Don’t thank me, (y/n). You’ll never have to thank me for anything. I just want you to promise me one thing.” He stated seriously.

“What?” You asked, a bit hesitant.

“That, from now on, you’ll tell me all about it, every time you have a problem.” That was easy enough, you thought. But, you being you, simply had to ask.

“So that you can be here for me?” You questioned him with puppy eyes.

He just chuckled lightly. “Well, that too. But, mostly, so that I can make it ⎼ whatever it is ⎼ okay for you.” Your heart was on the edge of not being to take it any longer. What could have you possibly done to deserve that man?

“Okay, I promise.” You said, watching his expression begin to soften already. “But, only if you promise me the same. Because I wanna make it okay for you too.” While you thought Harvey was simply gonna say yes, he started laughing at you.

“Always the kick-ass corporate lawyer, I see.”

“Would you even have me any other way?” You joked back, more relaxed now.

“Yes, of course! I’d have you in any way you came to me. Which is why I promise too.” With that, you didn’t have any other choice but to kiss him again, because crying over the fact that Harvey Surprisingly-Romantic Specter was an absolute cinnamon roll was not an option.

Taglist: @just-a-girl-with-alot-of-issues

#harvey specter x reader #suits #harvey specter #fanfiction #fanfic #imagines #suits fanfiction #suits imagine #harvey specter fanfiction #angst #bickering #harvey specter imagines #harvey specter x you #harvey specter x y/n #fluff #harvey specter fluff #harvey specter angst

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your-daily-biaswrecking · 4 years ago

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Serva me, Servabo te

save me and I will save you

pairing: photographer!Taehyung x f.reader

genre: smut, angst, slight enemies to lovers

word count: 10.5k | reading time: 60 min

chapter summary: The two of them spend their day on good terms for the first time, but still manage to find something to rile them up

warnings: switch!tae, switch!amy, oral f&m receiving, face sitting, dirty talk, teasing, a lil bit of orgasm control? some name calling (bitch), light spanking, hair pulling, unprotected vaginal sex, riding, praise, squirting, also some spooky stuff, i don’t remember what else ahh

A/N: I know absolutely nothing about photography, so if you do and you read this and think to yourself nothing is making any sense, you are right and I am wrong. Please just enjoy this as best as you can lol

All chapters | Masterlist | Read on AO3

Chapter 7: Love is just a form of possession

The place was definitely haunted. But perhaps it was in a good way. Perhaps it was magical.

It felt that way when you slowly opened your eyes to find a snoozing Taehyung just inches away from your face. His expression set in a natural pout as he had his arms snaked around your body like he was afraid he would lose you in his sleep. You bit your lip as you inspected his resting form better; his ruffled hair, his soft but dehydrated lips, his naked shoulders that were peeking under the blanket. Last night you had moved on the couch, struggling to fit on it at the same time but managing to entangle your limbs just right so that he wouldn't fall over. You had a light rug that you had found in the room over your bodies, as well as Taehyung's sweater on to keep you warm, although the heat from his bare body was all you needed.

And the fireplace. You heard it crackling before you raised your head to look over at its direction and confirm the fire was big and strong once again. Yep. This place was definitely haunted.

Taehyung's arms tightened around you, pulling himself nearer until his face was buried in your neck. "Don't go," he mumbled in a way it was hard for you to understand, with his voice heavy from his slumber. He had felt your body move while you were trying to look around the room and without even opening his eyes, his reaction was to hold you closer.

You ran a hand through his hair, smiling to yourself. "I'm not going anywhere."

Rain was still falling, not as heavy as the previous night, but it was just enough for the rhythmic melody it created by hitting the windows. That meant you were stuck in the house for one more day. Not that you had any interest in leaving, in even getting out of that room or that couch. Not only was it warm in there, in Taehyung's embrace, but it was safe, too. Perhaps, on any other occasion, you would hate yourself for just how nice you felt at that moment, but you were starting to believe that being by his side wasn't just appealing, but also necessary. You wouldn't last another day in that Manor otherwise.

"What should we have for breakfast?" you heard him whisper, right before he started stretching so much he almost fell over.

"Oh, um..." you mumbled, thinking about it. "Is it my turn to cook?"

You felt his smile against your neck, a low chuckle being produced at the back of his throat. "It is. What will you feed me?" You took a couple of seconds to think, and his smile grew. "You know, you could just offer me your cunt right now and I'd happily have that as a meal."

You groaned. "Tae!" you whined, pushing him on his chest. "You're disgusting!" He had certainly ruined the romantic atmosphere that the room was painted in. But that's just how that man is, isn't it?

He was laughing as he was trying to catch himself from falling, grabbing the sweater you were wearing and the arm of the couch. "Oh, come on," he said once he found his balance. "You can't tell me you're still shy after everything we've done."

But you rolled your eyes at him. "This isn't a matter of openness, it's just very inappropriate."

He looked up at you, licking his lip slowly as he watched your eyes. "So, you're turning me down?"

For a moment you tried to get up, but he held you tighter. The truth was that the way he was looking at you was almost making you cave in, but thankfully you could think better in the daytime. Even though you didn't have much of a reason to, anymore, you still didn't feel quite comfortable just casually doing stuff like that with him. It was too much already that you had woken up cuddling him as if he was your boyfriend.

"I need to go shower," you said, both replying to him and changing the subject in a way. "I'm so nasty from last night."

"You and I both. Do you want to shower together?" He made his proposal by reaching up a bit and kissing your jaw. It made you drop it, not to give him better access, but because his words were making you flustered again.

"No- why would we- we..."

"I'm just saying; it's cold and it's raining. There might not be a lot of hot water. We should be frugal."

Since you hadn't stopped him exactly yet, he took it as a sign to keep kissing you. Up your jawline and down your neck. And now forming a coherent thought was even more difficult. Your body squirmed around like you were being tickled, and you wanted to block him but at the same time not at all.

"Now, you're just making up excuses," you snorted, trying to sound austere but the smile he had managed to get on your lip served the exact opposite mission. "Do you want to have me for breakfast that bad?" you teased since he wasn't the only one able to do that.

But Taehyung pulled slightly away, biting his lip and looking at you through his lashes with the most innocent face he could muster. "Actually, I was hoping that if I eat you out, you might return the favor and help me out with this morning wood." And with that, he pressed upon you more, so that you could feel exactly what he was talking about. Your eyes widened and you gasped a bit, realizing that the hard thing nudging your thigh wasn't actually his knee like you thought.

"Oh..." you mumbled.

"But you don't have to!" Taehyung was quick to say when he saw your surprised reaction. But it wasn't so much surprise as it was a feeling of guilt; the man had done everything to please you the past couple of days, and you hadn't had the chance to do much for him in return. And there he was, with a pout on his lips and his dick begging for attention.

When you kissed him, you didn't do it just because you felt a sense of duty to do it, but mostly because the idea that he needed you turned you on so much, and so fast. You kissed him hard, not wasting any time to slip your tongue in his mouth, and your chest filled with pride when he started moaning. He was moaning more and louder than usual, probably being less interested in controlling himself since he still hadn't fully woken up yet, and you hadn't even touched him yet.

The rag slid down your shoulders as you moved over him, changing the position that had you both on your sides, to one where Taehyung was lying on his back and you were straddling him. You didn't have anything on other than that sweater, and so when you ground on his hard-on, it was easily gliding between your folds, making the man growl harder.

"Shit, Amy," he moaned and his voice was higher in pitch than normal. "I feel like a goddamn teenager. You're- shhh- you're gonna make me cum just like that."

You found his little voice cracks so adorable. You didn't know -could have never guessed- just how needy, desperate, whiny, and loud Taehyung got in the mornings. He always put on that facade of being in control, when in reality, deep down, all he wanted was to pleasure you as best as he could; all he was waiting for was a chance to be good for you. And then he was at your mercy for his own release. It was obvious in the way he hung from your lips, clawing at your sweater. Completely dependent on you and your moves.

"You can't cum like that, baby," you reminded him, pressing his chest down and sitting up, keeping your lips out of reach to make him whine more. You weren't used to this exactly, but damn, torturing this poor boy felt so good. Perhaps because you still wanted to hate him, so now that he was hooked on you and you were in control, you wanted to make him suffer; make him beg. Just like he had the audacity to do to you. "You can't cum before I tell you to, alright? If you do, I won't let you touch me again for the rest of our days here."

Taehyung cried out, his hips rising involuntarily to grind on your core more. "Stop," he breathed out. "Don't do that."

You laughed. Was he trying to order you around when his whole face was pink and he was panting, unable to compose himself? That was bold. Especially since what you were telling him seemed to turn him on even further.

You let two fingers run down his chest toward his belly. "You will finish in my mouth, okay? Nowhere else." Just to test him, you pushed down on his dick more, almost letting him inside you, and he crushed his head back, groaning.

"Amy- I'm so close already," he complained. "Just- just..."

You clicked your tongue, withdrawing both your hands and your hips from his body. "I don't like your tone, mister."

But he just looked at you with pitiful eyes. "I won't last if you don't..."

"You want me to suck your dick?" He nodded frantically. "You have to ask nicely."

"Son of a bitch," he sighed, biting his lip. And you could see him twitch all alone underneath you. It made you smirk.

"That's not nicely, baby," you cooed.

Taehyung's forehead started glistening as he got a little sweaty. And he groaned once more. "Amy..."

"Yes?"

He panted. "You don't even need to do much, just let me cum," he hummed.

And you chuckled. "Man, you really don't know how to ask politely, do you?" Then you snorted. "Well, what did I expect from someone like you."

You could tell all he really wanted to do was anything you asked of him; he just didn't like the fact that you were doing it on purpose. And if he just let you see exactly how desperate he was for you, then it would be a lot harder to establish himself later when he would need to again. But when one of your hands traveled south and wrapped around the base of his cock, there was truly little holding him back.

"Amy, please!" he squeaked, his voice cracking again. "Please, what do you want me to do? I've been as best as I could to you."

The words made your stomach do a flip, and you smirked, slowly running your fist up and down his length. "Yes, you have," you whispered. You lowered your head to his dick and stuck your tongue out. Taehyung watched you with wide eyes as you lazily brought the tip of your tongue on his head, gathering up all the precum that had leaked out. And he took a sharp breath in through his teeth. "You've been so good."

"I'm gonna cum," Taehyung announced, dropping his head back.

But you held him tighter. "Not yet." And you dropped your mouth entirely onto him.

Taehyung's mouth fell open in a silent cry as he did his best to control himself. This was torture. Sure, he had asked for it, but he had already woken up so close to his orgasm with the kind of dreams he was having, that all it would need to spill his seed out would have been a couple of strokes. It would have probably served him better to just go to the bathroom and deal with it himself. Now, he had this pretty girl with her warm, wet mouth all over him, sucking him off hard, and it felt so good he thought he would explode. And yet he couldn't. He had to wait.

"Amy, please," he choked out when you brought him deep enough to hit the back of your throat. "Ugh, please, let me cum."

You had never enjoyed giving someone a blowjob as much as you did at that moment. Besides the fact that Taehyung's dick was straight-up delicious, the sounds he was making and the way he was begging had your head spinning. It had you rubbing your legs together, bopping your head faster, and sipping him up harder as if you were trying to milk him. And you would have kept on doing that for so much longer, until your jaw was in too much pain, if it weren't for how his cries made you feel sorry for him.

So you popped him off your mouth just enough to say these words: "Coat my mouth with your scum, baby. Let me taste it."

You didn't have to touch him any longer; your words alone drove him over the edge he had been dancing on for a while now, spurting his seed on your offered tongue, his hands holding your head for the first time to keep you still. He gave you a couple of pumps, some of them missing the target and hitting your nose before he groaned and dropped back down. Panting and sighing, pulling his hair away from his face and whipping the sweat that had formed on his forehead. You stayed still, not sure if you wanted to spit or swallow, but since you couldn't immediately think of where you could do the former, you gulped down all that he had gifted you.

From your point of view, Taehyung had never looked hotter than he did at that moment; completely exhausted and dried up, probably without a single thought in his head. And all because of you. If you hadn't just made him finish and his dick go soft, you would have already jumped to sit on him, not even waiting to wear protection. Your core itched with want, too, and since he looked ready to go right back to sleep, you needed to go take that shower you had mentioned right away. And by shower, you know what I mean.

You went to get off the couch. But Taehyung's hand wrapped around your wrist instantly, keeping you back. His head foggy from his orgasm but still super aware of you and your movements. "Where are you going?"

"I'm gonna go take a shower. Like I said." Your voice was a lot lower than before, much of your confidence having left you the moment that scene was over. In contrast, Taehyung seemed to be gaining his old self back little by little, considering the way his eyes were piercing you.

"Not before I'm done with you," he rasped, pulling your arm until you lost your balance and fell over his body. "Come sit on my face."

Your eyes popped open wide. "Wha- no, I'm fine."

While licking his lips, Taehyung snaked his free hand down your sides and cupped your pussy, a finger immediately sliding between your folds as if he was trying to gather up all your juices. "You call that fine?" he asked smugly as he made sure you could hear just how soaked you were. A moan caught in your throat, trying to hide how much you needed him. He smiled sweetly at you. "What, you thought I'd just leave you hanging? Come on, babe, turn around and sit that pretty ass of yours on my face because I don't have the strength to get up right now."

It would have been hard to say no to that when you could both feel the way you gushed out at his words. So you moved around until you were facing his feet and kneeled over his head. One of his arms wrapped around your hips, his other hand still playing with your folds. You hesitated coming down to him, that being a position you weren't used to, but he was pulling at you until his tongue managed to replace his fingers, licking a stripe from your clit to your entrance. You moaned, your legs shaking a bit as he gave you kitten licks to see the way you squirmed over him.

And then you felt a strong smack on your ass.

"Bitch, I said sit on my face, not hover over it!" Taehyung scolded.

"Ah!" you cried, a sound that sounded like pain at first but turned to more like thrill later. Your head whipped back, trying to see the man lying beneath you. "I am sitting," you insisted.

"If I can breathe while you do it, you're not doing it right." And then he gave you another smack on the ass, making you yelp again.

"Ah, stop! You'll suffocate."

"Good." His hands kneaded your buns strongly, waiting for you to move. But you were still uncertain. So he exhaled and raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong, Amy? I thought you hated me, yet you don't even want to choke me with those thighs? I thought you wanted to kill me?"

It was a cheap trick to rile you up. Cheap, but it worked. You let yourself drop down completely, not holding any of your weight back. It felt weird at first, you felt pretty self-conscious, but then Taehyung's arms secured you around him and his tongue slipped inside you, and you didn't have the right mind to worry about anything else. You pushed even further down, trying to get him even deeper. He squeezed and pinched your things, moving your hips as best as he could to get you to grind on his face. And once you felt how nicely your clit rubbed on him, it was hard to do otherwise.

You held onto his hips for leverage to thrust against his tongue, as you could feel the feeling inside your tummy growing rapidly. And you moaned his name like a prayer. He pushed you off him just for a second enough to take a breath before he was pressing his mouth on your sensitive bud. His tongue flat on you to let you move against it in the way it felt best for you. Voice getting higher and higher as you got closer and closer, Taehyung smacking your ass again to make you scream. And with just one more hit, you were gushing all over his face, legs, and hips shaking violently as you fell over on him.

He remained lapping at you, cleaning you up, until you got so sensitive you had to pull yourself away. You got up and suddenly remembered to check on him. "Are you okay?"

He gave you one of those boxy grins, his eyes almost closing completely by how hard he was smiling. "Couldn't be better."

"Your face is all red." He looked like he had nearly died from asphyxiation. But he kept grinning.

"To be completely honest, I did forget for a moment to breathe. But that's not your fault. It was just too good to stop." With that he sat up and swung his legs to the side, in front of you, looking up at you.

You had to laugh. His whole approach to the moment, and even his bright red face with his hair all chaotic framing it, made you feel a lot more at ease. He seemed so happy for what he had just done. Almost like he had enjoyed it more than you.

"I have never met anyone who likes this so much as you," you admitted with another giggle.

Taehyung got up finally, looking around the room to find the discarded clothing items and get dressed. "Well, you have been dating all the wrong guys then," he said matter-of-factly before he found his briefs and jumped into them. He turned to look at you again. "See, this is what happens when you have standards and won't go for someone like me."

"I'm with you right now."

"Yeah, but you still won't date me." His words made you frown momentarily. Because they sounded slightly like a complaint. Or like a wish in disguise. But before you could have the chance to think twice, he cleared his throat and started putting on his pants, the eye-contact over. "Let's go shower and then eat something. This doesn't count as breakfast."

The atmosphere was awkward, only for a little, because then you occupied yourselves enough with dressing up, and going upstairs, and getting in that shower. You didn't shower together, chose the separate bathrooms instead. Which, you thought, was for the best; he might have already seen you naked but that was only while having sex. You didn't know if you were comfortable enough to be in your birthday suit and just... exist like that around him. But you still couldn't stop thinking about him. About what he would look like with all the water hitting his face. How you would like to shampoo his hair just to be able to hold him more intimately like that. Or for him to help you scrub your back and brush your hair. Generally, showering with someone else was another one of those things you didn't do much.

You heard the doorknob turn, and it brought butterflies to your stomach, thinking he had come to find you after all. But no one came in. You peeked your head around the curtain and the door was still closed. The shadows moving on the floor betrayed someone had just walked by, but he was still not entering.

"Taehyung?" you called but got no answer. Had he changed his mind?

You finished that shower alone. When you returned to your room, you found your phone was on your bed. You blinked at it, confused as to how it could be in such plain sight, and yet you still hadn't been able to find it yesterday. You grabbed it to see if you had any more notifications, and found a couple more missed calls from Yoonji. Oh, she would kill you for not responding earlier. Thankfully, you found just enough signal -you still hadn't been able to predict when or how that happened- and you called back. But she didn't answer. And when you called a second time, she still didn't answer. There was no way Yoonji was anywhere away from her phone; she must have just gotten mad at you for not calling earlier and ignoring your calls. But what would you even say? That your phone magically disappeared and reappeared today? And that you were too busy, what with fearing for your life and the sex and all?

"What did you want to talk about?" you sent her a text. Whatever. If she can hold a grudge against you over this petty thing, then it couldn't have been anything too important. Let her reply whenever she wanted to.

Taehyung had already served some breakfast when you got down, but at least this time it wasn't anything too extravagant, had simply opted for some toasted bread with marmalade, a boiled egg, and orange juice. You talked about his work and your studies, almost like making small talk. Like you would if you were meeting for the first time. Which is so odd; the two of you really just do everything the other way around, don't you?

What was making things uncomfortable was the fact that the two of you weren't fighting anymore. You certainly weren't used to that. But at the same time, you weren't exactly okay. Sure, you talked and spent your time together, you cooked and ate your breakfast and lunch, you played games and even cuddled sometimes. But it was all a little tricky. Because you had to be careful not to enjoy yourselves too much and let any emotions slip and show, or be too weird and ruin what you had managed to get. You almost felt guilty for liking being around him. But at the same time, you almost didn't want your days there to end.

You didn't want to go back to your reality, to your routine. Back to where you didn't talk and hated each other. But that would require you to admit it out loud first, and you definitely weren't about to do that.

"Amy?" Taehyung called for you after he had gone upstairs to get something and you had parted ways for a good five minutes. Five minutes and you already wanted to be in the same space again.

"In the kitchen," you shouted to let him know where you were. You were making both of you some afternoon tea since you had liked it last time. And yes, you wanted another excuse to keep him around you.

The photographer came jogging into the room with a grin on. "Look what I found!" he exclaimed, raising his hands to reveal a camera. A very old-looking camera.

"That's not yours?"

He shook his head excitedly. "No! I found it in that room with all those antiques!" With two steps he appeared right next to you, showing the tool around like a little kid that had just gotten a new Lego set. "Loot at this baby! It's a Japanese Arsen from the 1940s! This is insane, I don't think they realize how good this is if they just have it laying around here."

You chuckled. You had never seen Taehyung so enthusiastic. You knew, of course, that he must love photography and the such, but he always seemed more of a show-off about it than having a genuine passion for it. And seeing anyone talk about their passions, even if you don't understand a word about them, is sure to make your heart warm up.

"And get the best part," he went on. "I have a film with me that I think can work with this!"

"You do? You just carry around old film with you like that?"

Taehyung started picking the camera apart, opening up things you didn't quite understand to check whatever he needed to. "I am in the middle of using different models of analog cameras for a festival of 100 years of photography that we got going on in two months. So, yeah, I have a variety of films with me right now." He finally set the machine on the counter and looked back at you. "I don't have the exact film this would normally take, which would be a Vest Pocket film that's black and white, right? But I do have a Rera Chrome 100, and they're both 127 format films, so it should work." You were just staring at him with a confused smile. "This is the only 127 film with color, too."

You felt like a grandma listening to her grandchildren talk about technology you didn't understand. But you were happy for him. "That's all very amazing!" you finally said. "Are you gonna take pictures?"

"Yeah, I was thinking we could try to. The camera seems good to me, I think it should be working," he mumbled more to himself, taking another look at it. "You wanna go catch fairies with this thing?"

His words caught you a bit off guard. "What? Fairies?"

"Well, you know, the rain finally stopped and they always come out afterward, like snails." You were pretty sure he was messing with you. But he did take your hand to pull you out of the kitchen. "All we need is a pretty bait, which is where you come in. You will sit between the flowers in the garden, I will take your pictures with this, and then when we develop them we can see if we managed to recreate that famous picture with the little girl hanging out with the fairies."

You chuckled. He was definitely messing with you about the fairies, but he still seemed pretty serious about the photoshoot.

"I thought fairies were bad," you responded right as he threw a coat over your shoulders to push you out of the front door.

"Depends on who you ask," he told you with a wink.

Everything outside was still damp, even the atmosphere somehow. There was the distinct smell of the rain and the fresh air probing your senses, and for the first time since you got there, the environment felt nice. Like anything bad had been washed away. The plants glowed a bit brighter, the trees swinging around more rhythmically. You almost felt like an intruder when Taehyung guided you through the garden. But he was great at making you feel more relaxed and confident to pose for him; helping people like that was part of his job, after all.

He shaped and forged you in all those different positions, steering your body, or your face and your eyes in the direction he needed, before snapping the few pictures the film provided. Always kissing you in between. Every time his lips hit yours, you almost got too distracted to remember what you were up to. But the cold breeze brought you back each time without fail. It was sad that you couldn't see the pictures right away; Taehyung swore they were gorgeous yet you were doubtful. You would have to wait to go back in town to prove him wrong, though. And that was only if you even talked again after that.

The afternoon carried on calmly. This time you didn't occupy yourselves with work or studying at all. The days that you had left there were getting fewer and fewer, and it was no secret that you wanted to enjoy each other's company; even if you would never admit it. So you just had that tea you had forgotten, played some more games, talked about this and that. It turns out you had a lot more in common than you would have guessed. And the conversation was easy as long as you didn't fight.

"Any ideas for dinner?" he asked you once it had started to get somewhat late.

You nodded immediately. You had already thought about this beforehand. "Yeah, pizza!"

"Pizza?"

You nodded again. "Yeah. You know, I used to date an Italian-American guy and he taught me the easiest way to make good pizza," you explained while you started walking towards the kitchen. "It's so easy even I can do it."

"Oh," Taehyung mumbled before following behind your step. "Used to date? Like, how long ago are we talking about?"

You chuckled at his clearly annoyed reaction, then peeped at him over your shoulder with a smirk. "Why do you care?"

He was quick to shrug. "I don't care," he insisted as he started engaging himself with anything he could find on the counter that had no real use. "It's just a little suspicious that you would just casually bring up your ex like that."

You were torn between laughing at him and rolling your eyes at his behavior. "Yeah, I brought him up because of the pizza. If I had just said I'll make us pizza I'm pretty sure you would have complained that I don't have the skills for that, so I offered an explanation."

Taehyung snorted. "It was unnecessary."

"Are you jealous?"

"No, why would I be jealous?" He was avoiding your eyes while you decided not to stall any longer and start getting the flour and the rest of the ingredients ready. "I'm just saying-" he kept talking behind you, "-people usually talk about their exes when they still have feelings for them. And if this is a recent relationship I don't want to get caught in between. I don't want any Italian-American dudes showing up, wanting smoke."

You couldn't help but chuckle, your tongue pressing on your cheek, and you finally humored him by glancing at him. "Tae, that's not going to happen. Don't worry, I'm not like you when it comes to relationships."

He didn't say anything else, simply helped you with anything you needed for dinner. He helped you with rolling out the dough, and cooking the sauce, and shredding the cheese. You were always thankful for the moments you were cooking or eating, because no matter what was going on with the two of you, these were moments of reconcilement every time.

You made two big pizzas and a smaller one. The crust was a bit thin, but you argued that it was the way Italians make it. In one of them, you played safe and simply used sauce and mozzarella cheese. On the next one, Taehyung got to decide the toppings, and he went with pretty much anything he could find that would work on a pizza. And on the smallest one, you had minimal sauce left and no cheese, so you just improvised with some spiciness and pepperonis. You really didn't know if you would be able to eat them, but Taehyung never complained.

The photographer fixed up the fireplace a bit so that you could go eat next to it again. And you're not sure if the food was actually pretty good or if you were just very hungry and in a good mood that couldn't be ruined easily, but you both ate everything fast until there wasn't even a crumb left. And you felt so proud of yourself. Treating Taehyung made you almost blush before you reminded yourself that he wasn't it; that he wasn't your boyfriend and all of this would be over the moment you left this house. That you shouldn't be feeling this way. Just because you liked the sex didn't mean you had to start liking the man, too.

"Wanna play beavers?" you asked him once you had finished and you didn't really have anything else to do. I mean, you did, but you couldn’t just ask that yet.

But Taehyung was busy with his phone, not even glancing at you. "Give me a second."

He had been on his phone for the past half an hour or so, on and off, and you had never seen him so glued to it before. It made you frown in curiosity. "Are you talking to someone?" you asked.

Taehyung nodded. "Yes, Jimin." His face was way too serious to be texting his best friend, and it made you worry a bit.

"Jimin?" you murmured, leaning closer like trying to peep at his screen, although that's not what you did. Was something wrong? Did Jimin know about you? Had something bad happened with Yoonji; is that why she wanted to talk to you? "What are you guys talking about?" you finally asked. Taehyung's jaw moved around as if he was chewing an invisible gum, and you weren’t sure what to do because you had never seen him like that. You leaned back away, feeling a little off. "Tae?"

"You," he said then.

It took you a second to realize what he was answering. "What?"

The photographer dropped his phone next to him, looking at you in the eyes at last. His scrutiny making you cower a little. "We're talking about you."

You gulped. "You told him what happened between us?"

He shook his head. "No. I didn't say anything." But it was clear that from his stance and his words, he was still not making any sense, so he carried on. "He is the one talking about you."

Somehow, that statement was worse than the one you had expected. You didn't know what Jimin could possibly be telling him, but it was certainly not anything good, given Taehyung's serious face. And suddenly your blood went cold, trying to think of anything wrong that you might have done. And you were so scared, and you didn't even know why. Were you scared of disappointing him? Of ruining the little that you had with him? Why did the idea of Taehyung being mad at you, make you feel so bad?

"Wha- what is he saying?"

He clicked his tongue. "Can I ask you something…?” he mumbled, straightening his back and rubbing his chin. “You keep saying your not like me when it comes to relationships. And you’re still mad about what I did three years ago. But what did you do then?”

You gulped. You had no idea what he was referring to, but somehow you already felt guilty. “What do you mean? What did I do?”

Taehyung leaned in closer to you. “I mean, you obviously hated me. How did you handle that? Very… maturely, like you constantly try to pretend to do?”

You huffed. “Just get to the point, dude. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The corner of his lips twitched, almost like he was about to smile, even though it was clear his mood was anything but cheerful, while his eyes bored into yours dangerously. And he took his time replying, either waiting for you to admit whatever it was he wanted to hear first, or simply to keep you sweating. And then he finally sighed. “You made up a rumor about me, didn’t you?”

It wasn’t what you suspected he would say, and for a split second, you frowned, confused by his words. “What? What rumor- what are you saying? I’ve never done such a thing.” You didn’t get all the way defensive like you normally would because even though you couldn’t understand what was going on straight away, you still felt that guilt in your stomach.

The photographer chuckled in the darkest way you had ever heard. “Oh, so you’re telling me you didn’t spread around that I had the smallest dick ever?”

You choked. “Wha- no, I- I didn’t…”

“Oh, please. Yoonji said so herself.”

You couldn’t lie; you knew exactly what he was referring to. Had you said those exact words before? Yes. Had the rumors spread around so much that everyone on campus knew about them and they eventually reached back to you? Also yes. But had you intended for that to happen? Absolutely not. You had simply told a friend of yours and then Taehyung’s reputation did the rest; he was in the spotlight, everyone was talking and wanting to know more about him.

“I wasn’t trying to spread any rumors,” you tried to excuse yourself. But the boy was already shaking his head at you, not exactly seeming to want to listen to you. “It wasn’t my fault. I just told one girl and then she-”

“But you didn’t even know!” he interrupted you with a bitter laugh. “You never saw me, you just straight-up lied. Why would you tell anyone something like that?” He didn’t sound hurt, nor angry. He mostly sounded disappointed and that was so much worse.

You definitely didn’t like fighting with Taehyung when you were clearly the one at fault. “To be fair-” you kept talking even when he wasn’t paying any attention to you, “-when I said you had a small dick, I meant metaphorically. As in you had small dick energy. 'Cause you were a cheating little shit.”

He scoffed. “You know I don’t actually care about that.” Saying that, he got up and you were immediately on your feet as well. “I never cared about those rumors, we both know how fake they are.” He paused and leaned closer to your face. “What I care about is that you started them,” he whispered, and it was so much worse than if he had chosen to yell instead. “That you keep pretending you’re oh-so-perfect and I’m the asshole who deserves nothing but hate. When all this time you were just as guilty.”

Your entire face burned, your fists so tight you could feel your nails digging in your palms. All because he was right and you hated being put in that situation. “I said- I didn’t actually mean to-”

“Tell me, if my dick’s so small, why can’t you get enough of it?”

Your jaw dropped dramatically. “I-”

“And you can’t stop screaming my name when I fuck you?”

You were pretty sure he was just trying to rile you up, and you shouldn’t just let him succeed that easily. But, god damnit, he was good at everything he was doing. Whether that was getting on your nerves or turning you on. “Gosh, I hate you!”

He laughed at you. “If you hate me so much, why can’t you keep your hands to yourself?”

He had gotten so close to you, starring down at you with a smirk, and at that point, you weren’t even sure what his mood was. Was he angry, trying to make you so, too? Or was he trying to get something else out of you? You pushed him back, the proximity choking you. “I’m the one who can’t keep my hands to herself?” you mocked. “Might I remind you who was begging me to touch him this morning?”

Taehyung licked his lips as he looked away. “Might I remind you who was thanking me for making her cum so hard last night?”

You snarled, stomping your foot on the floor. “And might I remind you who tried to get in the shower with me ‘cause he still hadn’t had enough?”

His smile faltered. And then he slightly frowned. “Not me.”

“Yes, you!”

But Taehyung shook his head, keeping up the amused look on his face. “I only joked about it, I didn’t actually do it,” he mumbled with his frown still on, confused as to why you were bringing it up. “It doesn’t count.”

Yet you pressed on. “Oh, come on, you didn’t just joke about it, you did it!”

“Did not.”

“Did too!” you insisted. “I heard you when you tried to get in the bathroom while I was showering, Taehyung. You can’t lie to me.”

Taehyung lost his smile completely. And he looked at you seriously, his frown deepening. “You heard what?”

“The doorknob,” you announced, with a smug look.

But the photographer’s expression didn’t change. “Amy, that wasn’t me. I didn’t go anywhere near the west wing today.”

The arrogance left you within a second, your face turning pale and your eyes wide, as they stared into his very similar ones. “Stop,” you murmured.

“What?”

“Stop playing!” you whined suddenly in a high-pitched voice.

But Taehyung raised his hands defensively. “I’m not! Amy, I swear, I’m not joking. I don’t know-”

Before he had time to finish his sentence, you threw your body on his, gripping his shirt tightly in your fists, holding onto him like your life depended on it. Perhaps it did. "Tae!” you cried. “Someone tried to get in the bathroom while I was showering! Taehyung, there was someone-”

“Are you sure?” he simply asked you, his eyes searching yours with worry. You knew he wasn’t lying by the way he was genuinely concerned, too. By the way his arms wrapped around you like he was trying to protect you.

You nodded frantically. “Yes! Tae, I’m telling you, someone turned the doorknob to get in, but then didn’t.”

“Maybe you got confused and thought that’s what happened, but…” Taehyung tried to say. He wasn’t saying that to invalidate your words or doubt you. He, too, was trying to think of a logical explanation as you were freaking out in his embrace.

“No, I’m 100% sure. I heard it, I saw it! Someone was outside the door, Taehyung, and they tried to get in!” Before you knew it, you had tears threatening to fall down your cheeks. “I thought it was you, I called your name. But no one responded.”

His fingers brushed your hair behind your ears as he talked in the most soothing voice he could muster. “Alright, alright. I believe you, Ames.”

“There was somebody, or- or something in here!” you continued wailing.

“Maybe it was a cleaning lady-”

“What cleaning lady, Tae?” you shrieked. “Have you seen any ladies in here?”

But he held your face firmer, forcing you to look into his eyes. “It must have been. Maybe she wanted to get in the bathroom, realized you were inside, and left.”

You sniffed at him, looking over your shoulder to check the room as if you would find anything out of place. “That’s just wishful thinking and you know it.” Then you buried your face right into his chest, your grip tightening. “This place is haunted! This place is haunted and we’re gonna die!”

He let you go just so that he could grab your wrists and pull your hands away from your face so that he could look at you. “Amy, no,” he rasped. “No one’s gonna die.”

“I want to leave,” you whined again, your tears blocking your view and unable to meet Taehyung’s concerned eyes. But you could still feel his thumb caressing your cheek, whipping those tears away. And it still calmed you down as much as possible.

“Hey, okay,” Taehyung mumbled before he started walking towards the door while pulling you with him. “Okay, okay…” he kept repeating under his breath as he led you through the corridor and toward the main hall. You were confused as to what he was doing until he reached for that old phone sitting on a small coffee table.

“What are you doing?” you asked. “Are you calling the owners?” Your sniffs and sobs died down, seeing more clearly now as you watched Taehyung roll in the number that was written on a card next to the phone without looking at you.

“Yes, we need to get to the bottom of this,” he stated as he raised the phone to his ear.

“Tae, why are you calling the people at this hour? You will disturb them,” you almost whispered.

But he shook his head sternly. “No, it’s more important that you feel safe. Plus, they did say we could call any time.” Before you could say another thing, Taehyung started speaking on the phone. “Good evening, I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you. Yeah, no, everything’s alright. I was just calling to ask you about the housekeepers. Yeah. Do you know if they came in this morning?”

The conversation was making you a little uncomfortable; you were never the kind to confront people at work. But just the act on behalf of Taehyung was already making you feel better. “What’re they saying?” you mouthed, and he glanced at you, his hold on your hand getting a bit stronger as though to console you.

“No, nothing’s lost. We just had a situation; we didn’t see anyone here and I wanted to know around what time they’re here.” He was nodding along to whatever the woman on the other end of the line was telling him. And while he listened, his thumb started drawing circles over your hand absentmindedly. “Yes, I think one of them tried to get in the bathroom while my friend was there- No, no, nothing like that. She was just curious to know if it was one of them. Yes. Yes, I understand.” Taehyung gave you another look, noticing how your teeth were digging into your lip, and smiled at you. “Could you? Thank you, that would be great. Yes, thank you. Have a nice evening.”

And with that, he hung up. And he turned completely toward you and smiled brighter. But he wasn’t saying anything; just looked at you like he was admiring your beauty like he forgot you were still anxiously waiting for the results of the conversation. “So?” you asked.

Taehyung leaned in and gave you a peck on the lips, holding your face with both hands. “They were here this morning and the lady said one of them probably tried to get in the bathroom to get some cleaning supplies. She said she will ask and tomorrow morning they will talk to us, okay?”

You chewed on your lip as you watched his face so close to yours. This all sounded so ridiculous suddenly; they had seriously called in for something like that? But Taehyung didn’t once make you feel like you were overreacting. He didn’t see it like that. He thought you had every right to be scared, you had every right to feel panic. And he would do anything to calm you down, to make you feel protected, as well as actually protect you if he had to. His whole stance and presence made you feel at ease.

You wrapped your arms around him and hugged him tightly. “Yes. Thank you,” you murmured against his neck.

You heard him take in a deep breath like he was trying to take in all of your aroma as if it would be his last chance. And then he sighed as he exhaled. “Don’t go anywhere, Amy. It’s more dangerous for you to leave right now.” It was a long way home on a muddy road with no lights or anything close-by for help. Late at night, with rain threatening to pick up soon and a terrible signal. Of course he didn’t want to let you go of his arms.

You shook your head a bit, still buried in the crook on his neck. “I know. I won’t leave.” You had managed to calm down a surprisingly good deal. Even though you had nothing more of an answer as to what was happening in that Manor than you did earlier when you were just guessing, it felt good enough. Taehyung was there, ready to help you in any way he could, and it was enough.

“We should just forget about this and go to sleep,” he whispered before pulling away to look at you. “Then we can see what happens in the morning, okay?” You almost started to get nervous again, your fingers gripping his shirt immediately. Without having to say anything, the photographer noticed the change in your eyes. “Don’t worry, nothing is going to happen. Nothing is going to hurt you, I will be right here to keep you safe all night. Okay?”

You pouted. “You won’t leave me alone?”

He immediately shook his head. “No, not at all, baby. I won’t leave you from my sight for a second.”

He led you to his room on the east wing, a bigger and darker room than your own. Yet somehow it felt safer, too. Perhaps because Taehyung’s energy was all over the place. A pretty and slightly scary at first room, but once inside, it’s inviting and better than the rest. That was definitely Taehyung’s energy.

He had you seated on the king-sized bed with the raven covers while he locked the door, then pushed a dresser in front of it as well, for good measure. He drew the curtains in front of the balcony door and lit up a couple of lamps around the room to make sure you would have light even after switching off the main one. And after having affirmed time and time again that you felt as safe as possible in there with him, he came to meet you in the bed. To give you another peck on the lips and hold your face a few seconds more. Looking at you like it would be the last time he would be able to.

“Let me give you something more comfortable to wear,” he offered when he noticed your jeans and how neither of you had thought about making a stop to your room before coming here.

You pointed at the shirt he was wearing. “Can I have this?” You didn’t want just anything, you wanted something that had his scent still all over it. To make you feel like you were being hugged by the boy himself.

Taehyung nodded. There was no way he would say no to you, and it wasn’t even because of the panic attack you had had earlier. In actuality, he had more or else been treating you like that from the beginning of your days here. Like deep down it was the only way he wanted to act around you; even if he liked to tease or rile you up every now and then. He probably only did that just to play into your idea of him and not scare you away with his affection.

Taehyung took off both his shirt and pants, getting in bed just with his briefs on. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said, licking his lips. You didn’t mind, but it did make you a bit flustered. Ridding yourself from your clothing too, you put on his shirt and joined him.

He immediately turned you into the little spoon, snaking his limbs around your body and caging you against his. He nuzzled his nose in your neck, giving you a couple of kisses right under your ear, but other than that there was nothing sexual about his advance. He simply held you close to keep you safe like he had promised. Cuddling into you like it was something so natural, like you had been doing it for years. And his breath on your skin felt like company, his heartbeat on your back like a lullaby, his warmth and entire presence like a shield.

It almost ached you how good you felt at that moment. Good because you loved being with Taehyung, and ached because you wouldn’t be with him for much longer.

You cleared your throat, the sound filling the quiet room entirely. “I’m sorry I spread rumors about your penis,” you whispered, hanging your head low.

A low rumble of a laugh was heard muffled from behind you. “It’s alright,” Taehyung reassured you, holding you tighter. “Even with rumors like that, every girl still wanted to fuck me. And then they could be met with a pleasant surprise, right?”

You rolled your eyes as you could tell he just wanted to make you say it. “Right…” you admitted, without going into further detail about how big he actually was. “But still, I shouldn’t have talked bad about you just because I was mad.”

He continued chuckling, clearly finding your apology amusing. Maybe because he didn’t actually see the need for one, had already moved past the subject. “It’s really fine. Plus, they only lasted a couple of months before I completely disproved them.”

You rolled your eyes again. “By fucking the entire campus.”

“You have to do what you have to do.”

You knew it was a joke but it still served as a pretty good reminder of the fuckboy he really was. Of how different the two of you really were, on a fundamental level, even if staying in that house together had overshadowed that a bit.

“You haven’t been in an actual relationship since I’ve met you, have you?” you asked, not sure why.

Taehyung ran his nose up and down the slope of your neck for a couple of seconds like a predator circling his prey. “No,” he admitted then. “Relationships aren’t really my thing.”

“Not surprising.”

“What about you?” His hands were stroking your body, not in an erotic way, simply just feeling you up while he still could.

“I only do relationships,” you replied. “One-night-stands aren’t really my thing.”

See? Fundamentally different. Even if you didn’t have everything that was already holding you back, you would still probably never work. And no, the one week on vacation here doesn’t count. Because when you are trapped away in a Victorian Manor, with no other communications, in a world so contrasting to your actual routine, with a promise that when it’s all over, it really is… all over. Then you are bound to act some type of way. You are bound to seak the other’s company, you are bound to forget about the rules, you are bound to give yourself in for a romance with an expiration date. Right?

“I’m glad you made an exception for me, then,” Taehyung whispered in your ear. And you couldn’t help but turn to look at him.

Exception. Because this wasn’t a relationship; this wasn’t going to last. Whether it would end tomorrow or the day after that barely even mattered. What mattered was that the photographer and you were a one-time thing. A one-in-a-million thing. A thing that would never, ever repeat itself. And if you liked kissing him and wanted to do it for a bit longer, you had to keep it to yourself. And if you didn’t even want this night to dawn so that you never had to leave, you couldn’t admit it aloud. And if you wished you were his exception instead, you had to just accept you weren’t.

You closed the tiny gap between you and kissed him; softly. Because this might be your last chance to do so. And he let his lips be guided in your rhythm, dipped a hand through your hair to pull you as close as you wanted to be. You couldn’t entirely see the point of indulging in an act that made your stomach rouse like never before, when you knew how it would end. Why would you let yourself get used to something so sweet, when you know you’ll only ever be chasing that high from then on? Then again, you couldn’t stop. You kept kissing him, deeper and firmer, because why wouldn’t you indulge in this while you could?

Even as your kiss became more passionate, your bodies squirming and pressing against one another more desperately, this continued to be the softest you had ever been with him. Almost like there was something more than lust at play there. And even though you could feel his dick hardening on your hip, and your panties soaking up in your wetness, even though you both clearly wanted more, neither made that move. Your lips and tongues were enough; you wanted to take your time to memorize exactly how that alone felt.

And when you had plenty of that, you straddled him gently to press down on his erection with your wet core.

“Ah, Amy,” he moaned, his mouth dropping open. “Fuck me.” It was a kind request, the man’s brain having rotten from desire and you appearing like his sole savior in the moment. His hands traveled down your body, to hold your thighs as you ground on him, sneak under his shirt and pull it over your head. Then they reached your breasts, massaging them like a kid messing with playdough. “Baby, use me.”

You growled as you pressed down on him harder, throwing your head back. Your fingers ran through his hair and you pulled it, making him whine. You loved those eager sounds he made so much. You couldn’t imagine never hearing them again.

You didn’t want to waste any more time. “Do you have a condom?”

He sighed, biting his lip with a pained expression like he just remembered, too. “I- I don’t. Only had one in my wallet, didn’t exactly think I’d get some here.”

It was clear he felt bad, thinking that meant you would stop. And he was ready to accept it. But you were too far gone for that. You couldn’t give two fucks if you had protection or not; there was nothing stopping you from feeling him where you wanted him tonight.

“It’s okay,” you said, surprising him a bit. And right away, you pulled his briefs down to free his cock that stood hard against his lower abdomen. “Just tell me before you cum.” And, with a swift movement, you pushed your panties to the side and lined him up with your entrance.

Taehyung, still somewhat processing what you were doing, widened his eyes and growled when his naked head brushed on your wet pussy. He quite literally howled as you started slowly sinking on him, spasming from how good you felt around him. And you were close to doing the same. You weren’t sure if it was the rawness of it, the intimacy of your treatment earlier, or the adrenaline from even before that, but Taehyung inside you felt so good you almost orgasmed before even bottoming out, your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your lips digging in your bottom lip.

“Gosh, princess, I love— this so much,” Taehyung moaned once he could feel all of you, his dick curved inside and pressing straight on your cervix. “Fuck yourself on my cock.”

As by his order, you started rocking up and down. Arching your back to move back and forth smoothly, and in circles, and in any way that made your man make those delicious sounds. His hands held you like you were something to worship, a goddess, as he helped you in your movements. Until you were dripping sweat and your knees hurt so much you fell forward to crush your body on his. That’s when he hugged you and started thrusting up inside you, all while kissing your forehead sweetly. You ground on him, trying to get your clit to rub against his pubic bone in order to build up your climax.

“Good girl,” Taehyung purred in your ear. Because he knew you were close, and he knew how much his words and his voice affected you. He wanted to push you over the edge with just that. “You make me feel so good, baby.” You whined in response. “You and your perfect, little cunt. Feels so good wrapped around me like that.” And you whined again, picking up the pace of grinding against him, chasing your high. “I want to feel you cumming on me, princess. Want your cum all over my bare dick.”

In his attempt to make you orgasm, his thrust became deeper and harder, and they were immediately attacking your g-spot. You cried out loud, the sensation of it along with the constant stimulation of your clit being a little too much. Your pending climax suddenly felt like so much you tried to hold back. “Tae-” you whined, trying to push back.

But his arms held you down on him more firmly. “No, no, don’t fight it. Give me everything you got.” And he continued to hit that spot inside you, pressing two fingers on your clit as well. And you had an orgasm building upon orgasm, and it was getting uncontrollably big. “Give it to me.” Your mouth fell open in a cry as you reached beyond the point of going back, yet still tried to hold it in. But Taehyung kept thrusting, kept begging. “Please, baby, please cum on me.”

How could you refuse that? You spilled on him before you could understand what was happening, screaming his name at the top of your lungs as more and more spurt sprayed out of you and onto his stomach, like it was never-ending. The high you were ridding was never-ending. A high you had never experienced before, a high you didn’t want to get off, a high sure to make you fall in love.

“That was so hot-” It was the first thing you heard after who knows how long. After you managed to recollect your mind and see in front of you again. And then you realized Taehyung was no longer inside of you; he had pulled you off him and released his own cum against your ass while you were blacked out.

When you looked down, it was a mess. You quickly got off him. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” you said.

“Princess, what are you apologizing for?” Taehyung grabbed your arm to pull you back close to him. He kissed your lips softly. “You looked like you had such fun, never apologize for that.

You bit your lip as your eyes were still glued on his glistening belly. “I… I think I… Did I just squirt?”

Taehyung smiled at your innocent and shocked expression. “You did. And I liked it so much.”

“Oh. Wow.”

“Was that your first time?” he asked when he saw you were still processing everything. And when you nodded shyly, he pulled you in for another soft kiss. “First of many to come,” he said.

Almost like he was promising he would be there to make sure that was the case.

The bed was big enough for you to lazily clean yourselves and roll to a drier side to sleep. Taehyung wrapped his arms and legs around you again, the same way he had done before, nuzzling into you like you were a teddy bear. And you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to melt and mold against his body in a way that it would be the perfect fit.

The fear of the haunted Manor forgotten. The only thing on your minds being each other.

Next Chapter

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kinglazrus · 4 years ago

Text

Double Date

Phic Phight

Submitted by @ghostgothgeek: Danny/Sam and Johnny/Kitty double date

Summary: All Danny wanted was some dating advice from the only couple he knows, but of course he got more than he bargained for. At least going to the boardwalk sounds like a nice first date, right?

Word count: 9464 | links to ffn and ao3 in my bio

Danny stares at the tickets in Johnny's outstretched hand. He looks up at Johnny's slanted grin, then back down again. On the other side of the roof, Shadow lurks in the shade of the Ops-centre, drifting dangerously close to the supports.

"When I asked for dating advice, this isn't what I meant," Danny says. He thought Johnny dragged him up to the roof of Fenton Works for some "man to man" talk, not... whatever this is.

Johnny shrugs and stuffs the tickets into his jacket pocket. "Maybe so, but it's what you're getting! You want to treat your girl right? What better way to learn than watching the best boyfriend you know in action?"

"Johnny, I've seen you in action. Downtown. Driving around the community college and looking at all the girls while Kitty is off doing whatever," Danny says.

"Is that really such a big deal? Come on, kid. Listen to me." Johnny throws his arm around Danny's shoulder and drags him toward the edge of the rooftop. "Look how big this place is." He sweeps out his arm, gesturing toward the city. The sun is nearly set, but lots of people are still out at this hour. A warm haze of light glitters on the northern edge of the city, at the beachfront. Danny can almost see the top curve of the Ferris wheel from here.

Johnny continues. "Lots of people down there. Who knows who you actually saw doing what? I bet there are loads of blond guys with bikes around here. And I've got two tickets to the pier that says so."

Danny turns away from the glowing city to stare incredulously at Johnny. "You're using a double date with you and Kitty to bribe me into not telling her I caught you ogling college girls?"

"You said it, not me."

"Did you steal those tickets?"

"Kid, I know you're the goody-two-shoes type. I bought them fair and square with money right of pocket."

Danny snorts. "Whose pocket?"

"I don't think that matters. Come on, it'll be fun. I don't give advice for free, you know." Johnny squeezes Danny's shoulder, a little too hard for what's meant to be a casual chat. The desperate sheen in Johnny's eye kind of ruins the threat, though.

As Danny considers the offer, a shiver goes up his spine. His next breath leaves in a puff of pale blue air. With a sigh, he goes intangible and extracts himself from Johnny's hold, smiling a little when the older ghost stumbles at the sudden loss of Danny's support. Looking over the rooftops, he can't see another ghost, but they can't be far if they set off his ghost sense. He hopes with all his heart that they might be here for a friendly chat, like Johnny, but doubts it. Danny isn't lucky enough for that.

"Okay. I'll go," he says.

"And?" Johnny's grin stretches as he gestures for Danny to go on.

Danny tips his head back and sighs. He doesn't have time for this. "And I guess I didn't see you at the college last week."

"Great!" Johnny gives Danny a hearty slap on the back and climbs back onto his motorcycle. "You're not so bad, kid. When you're not kicking my ass. Just stick with Kitty and me on the day and I'll show the ropes." He kicks up the stand on his motorcycle and revs the engine. "Oh, and before I forget. If this date doesn't go perfectly, then... Shadow!"

The murky ghost rises from beneath the Ops-centre.

"Wait, don't!" Danny shouts, too late, as Shadow zips across the roof, cutting through as many of the Ops-Centre's supports as he can before melting into the darkness. Johnny takes off cackling as the whole thing comes crashing down.

—

The next morning, Danny keeps his head low, his gaze locked on the bowl of soggy cereal in front of him. Across the kitchen, his father stops to slap the counter.

"Didn't even hear a thing! Can you believe that?" Jack asks.

"Crazy."

"Must have happened while we were sleeping."

"Must have."

"When I find the ghost that did it, they're gonna get a face full of Fenton grade vengeance! You know what happens when a ghost looks in a mirror, Danno? Makes 'em go crazy. We're working on this new gun that makes them see—"

"Look at that, time for school!" Danny shoots to his feet. He can't meet his father's gaze as he dumps his cereal bowl—still half full—into the sink and scurries out of the kitchen.

"Have fun!" Jack calls after him.

"Yeah, sure, I will!" Danny shouts back. Under his breath, he adds, "as long as I never have to see that gun." He grabs his backpack as he leaves, snagging the strap and swinging it over his shoulder on his way out the door. Once he is outside, and there's a solid barrier between him, his ticked-off father, and whatever ghost-fighting monstrosity his parents have made now, he stops to take a deep breath.

There are still a few minutes before Tucker should arrive for their walk to school, but Jack does not know that. Danny did not want to sit there and listen to his own father talk about all the ways he could make Danny double-dead, much less re-experience his first death. In fact, he usually tries to avoid people like that. Unfortunately, that does not always work when he lives with two of them.

Danny shakes his head. He can think about those things later. Right now, his conversation with Johnny is the only thing he cares about. Only time will tell if he made a huge mistake agreeing to the double date, but it would be nice if at least one thing could go right for Danny for once.

Inside the house, something slams, followed by a shout from Jack that rattles the window. Danny jumps away from the door and nearly tumbles down the stoop, his front foot slipping off the top step. He latches onto the bannister to keep from falling back, and his foot thumps against the next step. The landing jars his leg as his knee locks, a jolt shooting up his thigh.

"Whoa, it's freshman Danny." Tucker's voice drifts through Danny's ears.

Danny turns, rubbing his now aching knee, and scowls. "What?"

"You know. Freshman Danny." Grinning wide and smug, Tucker motions to Danny's entire person first, then his leg. "Clumsy as hell and too chicken to ask Sam out."

"Shut up! Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"Are too!" Tucker waves his hand in an airy gesture of finality, turning up his nose. He spins away from Danny, a signal that their little squabble is over. His mistake.

With a final cry of "Am not!" Danny launches himself at Tucker, pouncing on his back. Tucker shrieks in surprise, a peal of laughter echoing off his cry, and stumbles under the new weight. He tries to beat Danny off with the flat of his palm. In response, Danny clings tighter. He wraps his legs around Tucker's waist and hooks his arms over his shoulders, latching on to his wrists to keep a firm grip.

"Holy shit. You're so short, why are you so heavy." Tucker wheezes as he tries to pry Danny's arms off.

Danny throws his head over Tucker's shoulders, shifting his weight forward enough that Tucker bows underneath him. "Ghost fighting muscles, baby."

"Ugh." Tucker's palm finds Danny's chin and he pushes, shoving his head back. "You totally could have asked Sam out for homecoming but nooo, you had to go with me as a hot young bachelor."

Danny's cheeks burned. "It was your idea!"

"Only because you were getting all pouty about not going with Sam, and the only reason that didn’t happen is because you never asked!"

"Well, I'm asking today!"

Tucker freezes. For a second, Danny wonders how ridiculous they must look to anyone watching, with him clinging to Tucker worse than Klemper to literally anyone, and Tucker stretching back to push Danny's head as far back as it will go. Actually, maybe they wouldn't find it so strange. Danny's neighbours have seen a lot of weird things in the past four years; him and Tucker being their usual selves can't be high up on that list.

"You're really gonna ask today, finally?" Tucker asks.

Danny nods, as much as he can Tucker still shoving his head back. "Johnny was here last night."

"Oh yeah?" Tucker pauses, giving Danny a chance to elaborate. He doesn't, waiting for the gears to click in Tucker's head instead. It takes a moment, but he gets there. "Oh! Oh, right, yeah. He finally got back to you? Is that why, uh... you know." Tucker finally withdraws his hands and points to the roof of Fenton Works.

"Oh. Yeah." Danny's limbs go intangible, slipping through Tucker's torso in one final act of petty vengeance as Danny rights himself. Tucker shivers, shooting Danny a glare, before looking back at the Ops-Centre. Normally a pinnacle of Fenton genius that stands proudly above their home, now it lays on its side. Danny managed to catch it, barely, before it could crash into the roof, but overnight the saucer-like body crushed itself under its own weight. Now, the side touching the roof is a crumpled mess, the supports that once held it up rusted beyond repair.

"Shadow," Danny says. It's all he needs to say. Tucker nods, understanding perfectly what happened here. "Other than that it went... okay. He asked me out."

"What?!" Tucker's head whips toward Danny, his eyes wide. "I hope nobody tells Kitty. But he does give off bi energy, doesn't he?"

Danny rolls his eyes. "Not like that. He invited me and Sam on a double date with him and Kitty."

"Oh, so they're swingers."

"Tucker!"

Tucker snickers. "Okay, okay. I'm serious now. Promise." The cat-like grin he gives isn't the most reassuring, but Danny will take what he can get. "You're really gonna ask her out today?"

"Got carnival tickets and everything."

"Well, shit, man. Don't blow it."

Danny grabs Tucker's beanie and yanks it down over his face. Tucker's teasing laughter chases Danny all the way to school.

—

At lunch, Danny pulls Sam aside. He meets her at her locker, which is two halls away from his and Tucker's, waiting along the opposite wall for her to finish switching out her books for her lunch bag. The hall is still fairly crowded since it's only been a minute since the lunch bell went. Down the way, Danny can see Paulina and Elliot, standing with their heads tucked together by Paulina's locker, working on the local rumour mill no doubt. When Sam looks done digging through her bag, and Danny pushes off the wall toward her, Elliot happens to glance in their direction. His sharp eyes go from Danny to Sam, then back. A wicked smile takes over his face.

Danny ducks his head, letting his hair flop forward and hide his slowly reddening cheeks. In two quick strides, he crosses the hall and thumps against the closed lockers beside Sam's.

"Done lurking?" Sam asks without looking up.

"I wasn't lurking."

"Sure you weren't." Sam knocks her elbow against her locker door. Danny's eyes catch the small, black-framed mirror taped to the inside, which reflects the exact spot Danny was standing when it hits the right angle.

At this rate, Danny's face will be red as his shoes. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh. What's up?" She finally looks up from her bag as she yanks the zipper closed. When she turns toward him, she hits her locker door with her elbow once again, this time to knock it closed; but, as the door swings, Danny glimpses Paulina and Elliot again. This time, they are both watching, and the way they cover their mouths as they talk is far from reassuring.

Danny's hand jerks out. He stops Sam's locker, shoving it back open, and holds it in place to block the gossiping duo's view.

"I wanted to ask you something," Danny says.

Sam shoots a raised eyebrow at her locker door, then turns it on him "Are you okay? You've been acting kind of weird all day."

"No, yeah, I'm fine. I was just– you know. This weekend, yeah?"

Sam looks entirely unimpressed with his fumbled words. "I can't say that I do."

"I have tickets to the boardwalk," Danny clarifies. "For this weekend. We don't have anything planned and I know you're free. So, want to go?"

As he waits for Sam's answer, he is struck by the realization that she could say no. They have been friends for years, and he has had an inkling, the past little while, that she might like him back. But he doesn't know it. No matter what Danny feels for her—and thinking about his own feelings makes his face hot and his heart stutter—she still might not feel the same. She could say no. And it's not that Danny hasn't thought about this before; there's a reason he is only asking her out senior year even though he has had a crush on her since they were freshman. But worrying about it in the back of his mind is very different from standing in front of her knowing it could actually happen.

This was such a bad idea. He is asking her out in the hallway. Within sight of Paulina and Elliot. He should have waited until after school, at least. Oh, god. Should he have gotten her something? Are you supposed to bring something when you ask someone out? Oh, this is so bad. She is going to say no, and then Danny will have to tell the story to Tucker, and Tucker will laugh because of course she said no, this is terrible.

"Sure, sounds fun," Sam says.

Danny blinks. He shakes his head, goes over her words in his head to make sure he heard it right, then blinks again. "Yes?"

"Absolutely. It's been so long since we've gone to the boardwalk. Maybe Tucker can win that stuffed shark he couldn't get last time." Sam nudges Danny's hand off her locker door and closes it, then snaps her padlock back into place.

Danny watches her blankly, slowly processing what she just said. "Tucker," he says.

"Yeah. At the ring toss booth, remember? I think he wasted fifty bucks on that thing. I told him it was a scam, but whatever." Sam starts down the hall toward the cafeteria, but Danny stays rooted in place.

He remembers the ring toss, of course. After Tucker finished emptying his wallet on the booth, Danny took a turn and got the top prize in one go. He might have had a little telekinesis to help him along, but no one else needed to know that; the giant stuffed alien was worth it. But that had nothing to do with this, right?

Before his thoughts can spiral too far, Danny shakes his head. "I meant without Tucker."

Sam pauses mid-step. Slowly, she sets her foot down and turns back around to face Danny. Her grip on her backpack tightens, and he can see the muscle along her jaw working as she clenches her teeth. Those are... probably not good signs. "Like, just you and me?"

In the background, Danny hears Paulina and Elliot snicker. He groans, dragging a hand down his face, and glares over Sam's shoulder at them. "Can you not?"

"Not our fault you're doing this in the middle of the hall," Paulina says.

"Seriously. I had way better class," Elliot adds.

Paulina looks at Elliot and beams. "You so did. But I've been rooting for this since the beginning, and I am so invested right now."

"Oh my God, this is so embarrassing." Danny has to fight off the urge to go intangible. He almost wishes his ghost sense would go off so that he could have an excuse to leave. This is not how he imagined this going, and Paulina and Elliot are making it so much worse than it has to be.

"Come on, Danny." Sam's voice snaps him out of his pity party. At some point, while he was wallowing, she walked back toward him and now has her hand on his wrist. She tugs him forward. He gives in, letting her drag him along the hall past the tittering pair until they disappear around the corner. Once they are out of sight, Sam's hand slips down into Danny's. It's warm. She squeezes his hand, just once, then tugs him into the nearest empty classroom and closes the door.

Neither of them says anything for a long moment.

Danny's hands flex at his sides as he tries not to fidget. Sam won't pull her gaze up from the floor.

"So, uh. Just you and me?" she repeats.

Danny nods vigorously, then stops and shakes it instead. "Yeah, but no. Johnny and Kitty will be there."

Sam's head snaps up.

The first thing Danny notices is the red tinge to her face, a rosy band stretching across her cheeks and nose. Her lips pinch together, not in a show of disapproval, but an expression of hers that he has become familiar with over the years. Sam doesn't usually do hopeful most of the time. Nerves aren't her thing either. But when she wants something bad enough, and she dares to look on the brighter side, she gets this look on her face. It's like she wants to smile but she holds herself back, sucking on her lips as she tries to keep composed.

That expression wavers now, her mouth relaxing as a frown tugs at her lips instead. "Now I'm confused. Are you trying to ask me out or not?"

"Yes!" Danny bursts out. "To the boardwalk with me. But it's, like, a double date with Johnny and Kitty, because he got the tickets. Actually bought them, although I'm pretty sure he stole the money." He considers telling Sam about the deal but holds back. "I really thought this was gonna go better but now I kind of want to punch Elliot in the face or something."

"Please don't punch my ex-boyfriend in the face."

"Right, not a good look. Got it."

Silence falls again. Neither of them can meet each other's eyes, although Danny keeps stealing glances at Sam. One hand hovers in front of her mouth, but when she turns her head away from him, he sees the full-blown grin on her face. Her eyes sparkle in a way he hasn't seen before. It sounds cheesy and dumb, but it's the truth. He looks at her and all he can see is how genuinely happy she is. Soon enough, Danny wears a grin to match hers.

"So," Sam says, and that one syllable sounds so much lighter than her usual tone. "It's a date."

—

In retrospect, asking Sam to go out with him on Saturday on a Wednesday wasn't the best idea. Danny floats around school for the rest of the day with a dopey grin on his face. He actually lifts off his feet a few times and Tucker has to clamp a hand down on his shoulder to keep him down. Over the next two days, he asks Tucker no less than five times if that really happened, if Sam actually said yes. Tucker, naturally, teases Danny relentlessly over it.

By Friday, Paulina and Elliot have made good work of spreading Danny's disaster attempt to ask Sam out all around the school. More than once, he sees money changing hands in the hallway, trying to be discreet and Danny and Sam pass by, so close together that their knuckles keep brushing as they walk.

He hasn't held her hand since she dragged him to the classroom on Wednesday, even though he wants to.

When Saturday rolls around, Danny phones Tucker an hour before he and Sam are supposed to meet.

"Do I dress normally?" he asks.

On the other end of the line, Tucker sighs. "Why are you asking me?"

"It's the boardwalk. People don't get dressed up for the boardwalk. And Sam has already seen everything in my closet. Should I try to look really nice, or should I just be myself?"

"We are talking about Sam, right? Relax, man. You know what she'd like."

In the end, Danny decides to go mostly normal. He throws a button-up over his usual outfit, rolls the sleeves up, and calls it a day. If he knows Sam, she would appreciate him not making things weird by getting too fancy and not like his usual self. He maintains that attitude up until he gets to the boardwalk and sees her waiting by the ticket booths.

"I should have dressed up," he whispers.

At a glance, Sam's outfit doesn't seem too different from her usual attire. Black on black with a few purple accents thrown into the mix. He has seen her in dresses before, but rarely outside school dances, and he has never seen this one with Flowing lace sleeves that slope down her shoulders and a flared skirt. She even has a new wide brim hat to go with it, even though it's already sunset.

Before Danny even considers turning back around and putting something nicer on, Sam's gaze roves over the parking lot and settles on him. She gives his outfit a good look. A second passes. She bursts on laughing.

"Oh, come on," Danny whines as he approaches.

"I'm sorry," she says, but she is still hunched over clutching her stomach. "But your face. You should have seen your face."

It takes a good minute for her to get her giggles under control. Even still, a few quiet snickers breakthrough when she finally composes herself, smoothing out her dress and righting her hat.

"Tucker texted me," she says. "He told me all about your little fashion dilemma."

"I'm gonna kill him." Tucker just had to get in one last jab before the date began, Danny supposes. He hopes it was worth it because Tucker is going to pay dearly. Although...

He subtlety takes in Sam's outfit again, the way the dress hugs her waist, and those boots. He didn't notice them at first but now he can't stop staring at them. Slick, black, buckled up to the knees, with the purple lace edging of a pair of stocking peeking out the top. The only exposed skin on her legs is a few scant inches of her thighs between the end of the stockings and the bottom of her dress. And it's a damn good few inches.

Danny silently amends his earlier statement. He won't kill Tucker; he will collapse into his best friend’s arms crying tears of gratitude for helping him spend a whole evening with Sam dressed like that.

Realizing that he is staring, Danny quickly drags his eyes back up to Sam's face. The last thing he wants on their first date is for her to punch him because he is being a creep. Except Sam doesn't look angry to have caught him staring. In fact, she is blushing again, nervously plucking at her sleeves with her nails.

"For a second I thought you had bought a whole new outfit just for today." Danny chuckles, his own nerves showing through. Despite how long they have known each other, he feels wholly unprepared for tonight.

"Not exactly," Sam says. She drops her sleeves and smooths out her skirt again, this time pinching some of the fabric in her hand and swishing it back and forth. "I've had this outfit for a while, but I haven't worn it yet."

"Oh, man. I'm really underdressed, aren't I?" Danny tugs at the collar of his NASA shirt with a grimace. The button-up, at least, is black, because he knew she would like that. But otherwise, he is plain old Danny.

"Not that you don't look good all dressed up, but I like it when you're yourself," Sam says.

The rumble of a motorcycle approaches from the distance.

"Besides, I think you'll look pretty fancy next to Johnny."

At least Danny has that going for him. They both turn toward and watch Johnny's motorcycle peal into the parking lot. It goes intangible, along with its riders, and phases through the parked cars, only coming back into the physical world when it screeches to a stop in front of Danny and Sam.

Johnny runs a hand over his slicked-back hair—is that gel? "You're really setting the tone for your first date, huh."

To Danny's horror, Johnny is dressed up. He switched his dusty gray jacket for a shiny leather one, and instead of his usual shirt, he wears his own button-up. But unlike Danny's, Johnny's shirt is white and crisp, and actually buttoned up.

Kitty, meanwhile, looks the same as always. "Come on, don't tease the kid. He ain't half bad looking. He snagged me for a couple weeks, didn't he?"

Danny opens his mouth, about to remind her that she had been using him to make Johnny jealous the entire time; one look at Johnny's scowl and Sam's glare has him shutting up before he can utter a single syllable.

"Uh, should we go in? You do have the tickets, right Johnny?" he says instead.

Johnny scoffs and reaches into his jacket, pulling out the tickets. "Cool it, little man. I got us covered."

"Johnny! You actually bought tickets?" Kitty gasps.

"Only the best for you, babe. Let's go." Johnny holds out his elbow for Kitty to take, which she goes with glee, her steps bouncing as they take off for the ticket booth. Over his shoulder, Johnny shoots Danny a wink.

"Oh, uh. Shall we?" Danny cringes as the words fall from his mouth, but offers his arm to Sam nonetheless. She looks between Danny and Johnny, a questioning look in her eye. Just when Danny thinks she is going to leave him hanging, she shrugs and loops her arm through his.

They follow Johnny and Kitty. Already at the booth, the ghostly couple is passing the tickets over when Danny and Sam get close.

"The pipsqueaks are with us," Johnny says.

The girl at the counter, who looks only a year or two older than Danny, stares at Johnny with wide eyes. His aura, a dull grey that's usually hard to see, is much brighter at night. With the poorly lit parking lot at their back, it's impossible to ignore. Kitty's soft green aura is far more noticeable, but she stands just behind Johnny, her arm still curled around his, staring ahead at the twinkling lights of the boardwalk.

The sun hasn't completely set yet, but the top of the Ferris wheel touches the darkest part of the sky, and its colourful lights flash in a mesmerizing pattern, beckoning people in.

Johnny seems to have forgotten the whole reason he arranged this date in the first place because he takes full advantage of Kitty's distraction to lean in close to Ticket Girl, looking her up and down.

Behind them, a line is forming.

Ticket Girl's lip curls in disgust, but Danny can see fear shining in her eyes. "Sorry, sir, but I don't know if I can let a ghost in."

The fawning curl to Johnny's smile drops away abruptly, twisting into something more similar. "That's a bit rude, don't you think?" Shadow rises from Johnny's feet, growing taller until he looms over the booth, a menacing grin stretching his blank face wide.

"Johnny!" Danny slides up to the booth, nudging Johnny over with the arm not held by Sam, and beams at Ticket Girl manning the booth. "Hey. You might recognize me—Danny Fenton, son of Maddie and Jack Fenton."

"The ghost hunters." Ticket Girl nods.

"Right. We're actually doing an experiment right now. See, some ghosts actually have really human behaviours. Like Phantom, I bet you love him. But any good scientist has to test their hypothesis multiple times. So me and my– uh, my girlfriend?" He glances at Sam, whose red face matches his, but nods in agreement. "Are here to observe these too ghosts"—he tips his head to Johnny and Kitty—"doing normal human things. Such as getting into the boardwalk with paid tickets, just like everyone else wants to do."

"But he...." Ticket Girl glances nervously at Shadow.

"The big guy will be so chill. Super chill. You won't even know he is here, because you'll be at the booth, far away from the ghosts that just want to get inside and definitely not hurt anyone here."

The kid snatches up the tickets before Danny finishes his sentence, ripping off the stubs, and shoves a handful of wristbands across the counter, along with a whole roll of game tickets. "Just don't come back, okay?"

"Thank you!" Danny grabs the items and hustles everyone along.

"Nice work, Danny." Kitty gives him a thumb up under her and Johnny's intertwined arms. "Way to use your head."

"I could have thought of something," Johnny grumbles.

"Sure you could have, babe. Now let's check out the roller coaster first!" She drags him off, both of them without their wristbands, but Danny doesn't think it will be a problem. Everyone steers clear of them as they plow through the crowd. Every second the sun gets closer to setting, every shade darker the sky turns, the more obvious it becomes that Johnny and Kitty aren't human as their auras grow brighter.

"What should we do first?" Sam plucks four of the wristbands from Danny's fist—the kid gave him seven—and puts them on, grinning at her little collection. She takes the remaining three and puts them on Danny.

"Roller coaster sounds fun. Go with the thrills first?" He watches her slip the bands around his wrist, looping them together so that all three are intertwined.

Sam pauses on the last bracelet. "But you like saving the big rides for last."

He peeks over Sam's shoulder. Johnny and Kitty are halfway across the boardwalk already, well on their way to the coaster. Johnny twists mid-step, catches Danny's eye, and beckons him forward.

Right. Stick together. See how it's done.

"Yeah, but it might be fun to shake things up." He takes over putting the last bracelet on, hurrying to slap the sticky pieces together. In his rush, he catches some of his hair, drawing out a wince, but Johnny and Kitty are nearly there, and they've fallen way too far behind. "Come on!"

Danny takes Sam's arm and pulls her along. Focused on the path left by Johnny and Kitty's charge, he misses the frown on Sam's face as she looks down at him.

—

It goes better than Danny expected. Kitty leads the way, picking attraction after attraction with such gusto that he thinks she has never been to a theme park of any kind, which may very well be. Danny doesn't know much about Johnny and Kitty's life before ghost-hood, except that they died young and poor.

More than once, Danny catches Johnny watching other girls. Kitty doesn't seem to have noticed, so far, but Danny is not taking any chances. He remembers Johnny's threat and Shadow's piercing eyes watching them every step of the way serves as a constant reminder. Whenever he catches Johnny in a moment of distraction, he nudges the ghost and draws him back to the present. It earns him a few glares, but it works.

Despite Johnny's mounting annoyance, he still fulfills his side of the deal, giving Danny quick advice, either through vague gestures or whispered words while the girls are distracted.

"Let her choose what to do." Johnny feigns examining the bright bulbs overhead as they wait in line for the bumper cars. The golden lights dangle from the tent, flashing intermittently. Neither Sam nor Kitty are paying attention to the boys. Sam leans against the railing, cheering on the current bumper car drivers. A quick glance into the rink shows Valerie Grey ramming her cart against Dash Baxter.

If Johnny weren't dispensing important advice, Danny would be right next to Sam cheering along.

"It makes her feel like you care about what she likes when you do," Johnny continues.

"I do care," Danny says.

"Perfect, then you won't have a problem."

The bumper cars don't provide ample opportunity to use Johnny's advice, but when Kitty drags them to the Tilt-a-Whirl next, he gets the perfect chance. At the front of the line, he and Sam get first pick of the available seats. The Amity Park boardwalk, unlike other theme parks, has an eclectic collection of Tilt-a-Whirl cars ranging from a cupcake, to a plain seat, to a bat to a spaceship. Danny already knows which one Sam would like.

"You want to take the spaceship?" Sam asks, tugging Danny in that direction.

He resists her pull. "Don't you like the bat?"

"Yeah, of course. But you like the spaceship."

It's the strangest tug of war Danny has ever found himself in. He nearly gives in, but Johnny kicks the back of Danny's leg—lightly—and coughs "lady's choice" under his breath.

"It's just a car. We can take the one you like," Danny says.

Sam frowns, her grip slackening. It's all that Danny needs, and he eagerly pulls her toward the bat, sliding in before she can protest further. When he turns to face her, instead of a smile, she meets him with a frown.

"Is something wrong?" Danny asks, startled. Panic rises within him. Oh, no. She is not having a good time. It's a disaster after all.

"No, it's fine," she says after a moment of silence, which does nothing to assuage Danny's worries. Everyone knows "fine" doesn't actually mean "fine." It's one of the most used words in Danny's vocabulary, typically after a nasty ghost fight that leaves him limping and bruised.

Desperate, Danny leans out of the car, searching the ride for Johnny. He finds him across the way, sliding into the cupcake next to Kitty. Johnny meets Danny's gaze and motions for him to watch. In one smooth move, Johnny stretches his arm out with a feigned yawn, then settles it down around Kitty's shoulders and tugs her close. When Danny leans back into the car, Sam is watching him.

"You're acting weird," she says.

"I'm just a little tired." Danny stretches his arm up, just like Johnny did. Sam's gaze follows it all the way until he drapes it over her shoulder. It isn't until he has settled that he realizes he forgot the yawn.

The rest of Johnny's advice follows that same vein: do what Sam wants and use every chance possible to invite her closer. Danny follows it to the letter, mimicking everything Johnny does. Take the lead when walking, but let her choose where to go. Keep her close, but let her wander when she wants to. The hardest part, though, is finding excuses to stick with Johnny and Kitty.

"We don't have to spend the whole night with them," Sam says.

They are loading onto the Ferris wheel, Johnny and Kitty taking one side of the four-person carriage while Sam and Danny get the other. Danny had hoped to save this for the end of the night, for just him and Sam, but Kitty wanted to go now. When Danny tried to suggest otherwise, or even suggest he and Sam take a different carriage, Shadow's low growl cut off his protests.

"I want to make sure they don't get into trouble. You know they like to cause drama," he whispers needlessly. Neither Kitty nor Johnny is listening.

"I don't think we have to worry about that. We've been here for three hours already and they haven't done anything. I think they just want to have a good time. Mostly." Sam tilts her head, shooting Johnny a pointed look.

To Danny's dismay, Johnny is once again feasting on the local sights. As Kitty braces herself against the rail of the carriage, staring out over the beachfront, Johnny leers at the woman who helped them onto the ride. His posture mimics Kitty's as the Ferris wheel turns for the next passengers to load on, and he leans over to get one last look at the woman.

"It's a double date. Aren't you supposed to stick together on a double date?" Danny draws Sam's attention back to him with the question and uses that moment to kick Johnny's ankle.

"Ow!" Johnny cries. He whips around, fixing a glare on Danny. "The hell was that for?"

"Do I have to say it?" They both know he won't, though. With the threat of Shadow hanging over the evening, Danny won't risk letting Kitty on to what's happening behind her back.

Sam, however, has no such qualms. "I can't believe you. You're literally on a date and you're not even paying attention to your girlfriend?"

That grabs Kitty's attention. She turns, eyes wide, and looks at Johnny. "What?"

"I bet she spent a long time getting ready for today, trying to look good for you, but here you are, faking interest when she watches, then looking to someone else whenever you think she isn't." As Sam berates Johnny, her voice slowly growing louder, Danny gets the sinking feeling that she isn't just talking about the ghost. "I wonder how long she has been looking forward to this. Probably a really long time, but you're so distracted that you can't even see she isn't enjoying herself."

Danny's stomach plummets. He really screwed up, didn't he?

"You. What?" Kitty's ice-cold voice reminds Danny that there are real stakes on this date.

"I was checking out her jacket, not her! It looks like the kind of thing you like to wear," Johnny rushes to explain.

Kitty's eyes narrow. In a blink, she lurches across the carriage and takes Johnny's place at the rail, peering back at the receding woman. Damningly, she isn't wearing a jacket.

"You! You! I can't believe you!" Kitty shrieks. "I thought you wanted to take me on a nice date. I didn't even care that you the ghost kid and his girl were coming, because he's nice, and you were finally taking me to a theme park like I always wanted!"

Viridescent tears streak down Kitty's cheeks. Danny has seen her livid and raging plenty of times over the past few years, but now she looks downright distraught. Her face crumples, scowl giving way as a sob wrenches from her throat. Johnny looks as stricken as Danny feels.

"I'm sorry, baby, I didn't mean it. You know you're the only girl for me," he says, dropping to his knees.

"I thought this– this meant something." Kitty struggles to speak through her tears, fighting against the tightening of her throat and gasping sobs. "How could you?"

She takes off, then, launching herself out of the carriage with enough force that she sends it rocking. Johnny reaches after her, but it's no use. She streaks across the sky, a blur of red and green, and disappears into the sparkling lights of the game booths, out of sight in seconds.

An oppressive silence descends for one long moment.

Johnny, shoulders trembling, turns to Danny. His shadow bubbles and bulges as two furious eyes blink open. "Kid, I am going to kill you!"

Sam jumps forward, sending the carriage rocking again, and brings her leg up. Danny glimpses the neon sole of her boot before she slams her heel down on Shadow's growing face. Shadow screeches in pain and withers into the floor, disappearing into a grey blob with a pathetic sizzle.

"Shut the hell up, Johnny, and go after your girlfriend!" Sam shouts, thrusting an arm out toward the game booths.

Johnny gnashes his teeth but doesn't fight. "This isn't over, kid." He falls through the floor of the carriage, intangible, and takes off after Kitty.

With a huff, Sam drops onto the bench opposite Danny, crossing her legs and arms, and glares at a point over Danny's shoulder.

Danny fidgets, pinching the fabric of his jeans and rolling it between his fingers. He looks up at Sam, down, then out after Johnny and Kitty. "Should we–"

"They can wait until the ride is done," Sam snaps.

Danny nods, afraid to say anything else and screw this up even further. He should have noticed Sam wasn't enjoying herself. It started off great, and now... he is not sure if there will be a second date. He wouldn't blame her. With that realization comes the dawning horror of what that might mean for their friendship. It would end because of this, right? They have fought a few times over the years, and it never lasts long, but this is different. They tried dating; that changes things. If it doesn't work and they go back to just being friends, it won't be the same. They will both know that they like each other, and they will know that it didn't work.

What would happen then? Danny can't imagine not having Sam in his life, but if she is really mad at him... she has dropped people for less. Everyone in Casper High remembers the middle school debacle that led to Sam cutting off all ties with Paulina. They might be better now, but it took six years for them to become friends again. Danny couldn't wait that long.

"Danny!" Sam jostles him, her hand on his shoulder, and yanks him back to the present. She stares into his eyes, assessing him. Once she is satisfied that he is back in the moment, she returns to her seat, this time with her gaze fixed on him.

Looking outside the carriage, Danny realizes they are over the crest. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he missed half the ride, including the best moment. The realization hits him worse than one of Skulker's ecto-seeking missiles. He nearly spirals again, but Sam reaches out and clamps onto his knee, keeping him grounded.

"Danny, I think we need to talk."

This is his nightmare. Literally, he has had nightmares about Sam rejecting him. They usually end with the haunting echo of Elliot's pompous laughter as Sam chooses him, old jealousies thriving in his dreams. Sometimes Valerie is there, too, her face overlayed with Sam's as they turn him down in unison. But the worst ones are when it is just Sam, looking him straight in the eye, and saying no. Right now, this is all too close to those nightmares.

He swallows, unable to find the right words, and nods instead.

"Why did you ask me out if you weren't even going to pay attention to me?" she asks.

Danny's mouth stays clamped shut as his earlier fears are realized. Her rant was for more than just Johnny.

"You asked me if this outfit was new." Sam skims her fingers along the lace of her stockings, tracing the spiderweb patterns hidden within. "I didn't lie when I answered. I bought this a few months ago for homecoming. It was our last one, and I thought... I thought you were going to ask me to it."

"But that's not..."

"Yeah, I didn't wear it."

The dress she did wear was fancier, with layered skirts and glittering black beads.

"I bought this one because I knew you wouldn't care if I dressed fancy or not. And I know you don't like to unless you have to." She nods to Danny's casual outfit. "So when you asked me out, I already knew what I wanted to wear, because I know you. But this whole time, you haven't acted like the Danny I know and care about. You've been clingy, and overly accommodating, but at the same time ignoring everything I wanted. And when you weren't doing that, you were watching Johnny?"

Sam ducks her head and looks away. With the brim of her hat hiding her face, he can't see her, but the quiet sniffle she makes is unmistakable.

A rotten taste seeps through Danny's mouth. This was supposed to be a nice first date, but all he did was make Sam cry.

"I know I say I don't care about this stuff. I say it all the time, but..." She reaches up, carefully dabs at her eyes so she doesn't ruin her makeup. "I wanted you to look at me."

Danny finally finds his voice. "Sam, God, no. You're beautiful. When I saw you? Holy crap, I couldn't breathe. You're always beautiful. Not that that's the only reason I like you! You're my best friend. I love your passion, and your smarts, and how you won't put up with guys like Johnny getting away with any of their shit. Or me getting away with mine. I love so much about you, and I love–"

He cuts himself off before the last word, the unsaid "you" hanging between them. He knows what he meant. She probably does, too. Now isn't the right time to say it, though, so he lets his voice fade to quiet.

The Ferries wheel jerks to a stop, their carriage rocking back and forth, and the ride technician opens the door for them.

"Hey, weren't there for of you before?" she asks.

"They got off early," Danny says. He ignores the startled look on the technician’s face as he rises to his feet. On instinct, he reaches toward Sam but holds back at the last moment. Clingy. The word echoes in his head. He wavers, unsure what to do.

Sam takes the choice away from him, jerking to her feet before he can decide. She touches his hand, but doesn't take it and brushes past him, exiting the carriage onto the boardwalk.

"Harsh," the technician whispers.

"I deserve it," Danny mutters back before running after Sam. She walks at a brisk pace, weaving through the crowd toward the line of booths. Danny catches up as she reaches the first tent. "Where are we going?"

"We need to make sure Johnny and Kitty haven't trashed anything, don't we?" Sam says.

"Right, yeah." Danny wishes his ghost sense would go off. At the very least, it could tell them if Johnny and Kitty were close by, but that only worked if they left his range in the first place. In his freshman year, they might have, but today his range stretched over most of the boardwalk, if not the whole thing.

As it turns out, tracking them is easy even without Danny's sense. When he and Sam reach the tightest cluster of game booths, they find a trail of destruction. Fallen stands, scattered prizes, and shattered lights guide them through the maze of booths and back out into the main thoroughfare.

"This looks tame for Shadow," Sam comments.

"Twenty bucks says Johnny did it," Danny says as they pick their way through shattered boards.

"Not Kitty?"

"Right now, the only person she's mad at is Johnny. But when Johnny gets mad, he isn't the only source of bad luck in their trio," Danny explains. It doesn't come out often, since Shadow does most of the fighting, but he has seen it often enough to recognize the effects.

When they leave the booths behind, they find themselves near the boardwalk entrance. In the middle of the wide path, Johnny and Kitty are locked in a screaming match. Or Kitty screams while Johnny wilts with every new word.

"It was always supposed to be our place, Johnny! And you ruined it!" She beat her fist against his chest, wailing all the while.

Johnny's silence under the onslaught speaks volumes. He doesn't even look mad anymore, just heartbroken.

"All I ever wanted, and you couldn't even—!" She stops, shuddering, and takes a deep breath. Her next words come out quiet. "If you hadn't tried to look at that stupid girl! If you had just watched the road like you were supposed to!" A gut-wrenching sob cuts her off. "Leave me alone, Johnny."

She turns on her heels and runs toward the nearest building. For a moment, it doesn't look like Johnny is going to follow. His legs tremble, seconds from collapsing beneath him. He manages to lift his gaze, though, and finally notices the sign hanging over the building that Kitty missed: Hall of Mirrors.

"Shit! Kitty, wait!" he calls, but she ignores him. With another swear, he leaps up and flies after her.

"Oh, no," Danny says. He sprints across the boards, Sam following without question. They're halfway to the house of mirrors when they hear a piercing scream followed by a crash. The building crackles. Something inside pulses, imperceptible to regular humans, but it makes Danny stagger.

"Danny, what's going on?"

Before he can answer, a wave of power surges from the house and everything goes back.

—

Danny wakes to a sharp ringing in his ears. Hazy light edges his vision. His hearing returns slowly. First, the muffled sound of his name, then the fizzle and pop of broken lights, and finally the soft rumbling of a gathered crowd.

All at once, Danny becomes aware. Sam hovers at his side, her hair tousled, a thin cut on her temple, and her hat in her hands. He sits up, squeezing his eyes shut when the world spins around him. Sam provides a steady hand, rubbing small circles on his back until he can open his eyes again. Around them, the stalls are dark. Thirty feet out in every direction from the house of mirrors, every light is broken. Glass litters the boardwalk. The normally glowing entrance to the park is dark, the metal twisted. Beyond that, the ticket booth lies on its side.

Directly ahead of them, a large crack splits the house of mirrors.

"What... what was that?" Sam asks. "It was like Shadow's power but way bigger. I've never... did Johnny do that? I didn't know he could."

Danny groans, rubbing his head. The piercing ring lingers in the back of his head, and it probably won't fade for a while, but it is not so bad that he can't ignore it. "Normally, yeah, but..." He grimaces. "We should get in there."

Sam nods and helps Danny to his feet, pulling him up by the arm. He staggers toward the broken attraction with Sam at his shoulder, casting wary glances all around them.

The gathered crowd isn’t big, yet. It looks like Danny was the only one knocked off his feet, the only one really affected by the ghostly surge—three guesses as to why that is, and the first two don't count. Judging by the sparks still raining down down from the shattered lights, it has only been a minute since the surge. Security isn't here yet. That gives them some time.

The employee manning the attractions sits on the boards, staring wide-eyed at the broken building. He doesn't even blink as Danny and Sam slip through the curtain.

Inside, it's dark. The lights are all down. Glass crunches under their shoes, every mirror in sight shattered, leaving blank boards behind. Johnny and Kitty aren't far from the entrance, no more than a few feet. Sam sees them first, catches the glow of their auras in the corner of her eye, and points toward a dead-end alcove after the first bend in the maze.

Kitty is tucked against Johnny's chest, her jacket pulled up around her head. Johnny has his arms around her waist, and his soft voice provides the only noise beyond the glass under Danny and Sam's feet.

When Johnny hears them, lifts his head, just enough to glare at them through the darkness. No threats spill from his lips, though, and he goes back to comforting Kitty soon enough.

Danny can't help it. He looks down at the mirror shards below them, and immediately wishes he didn't. Bloody road rash stretches up Kitty's right side, torn to the bone. Her face, protected by the darkness around them, and the shadows of her jacket, remains hidden from Danny's prying eyes. He prefers it that way.

A gentle nudge at his side reminds him that Sam is with them.

"What's going on?" she mouths.

Danny crouches, carefully not to make too much noise, and picks up a shard of glass. Johnny still hears him, though, and Shadow rises threateningly at the sight of the glass. Danny holds up a placating hand, then motions to Sam, the glass, then himself.

No matter what low opinion Johnny has of Danny right now, he wouldn't stoop so far as to expose other ghosts like that. To Danny's surprise, however, Johnny thrusts an arm out and motions for the glass. Danny raises his eyebrows. Johnny sticks his hand out further. Without complaint, Danny passes it over.

Johnny holds the glass up, angling it so that they can see his face. He and Kitty have matching road rash.

Sam gasps.

"Come on," Danny says to Johnny and Kitty. "Security will come soon. And if they see a couple of ghosts, you know they'll call my parents."

Kitty sniffs. Danny can't see her well behind the jacket, but the way her hair bobs, he assumes she nodded. All four of them go intangible, Danny lending his power to Sam. They slip through the mirrors toward the side of the building and step out into the open air. As Johnny continues to comfort Kitty, Danny creeps toward the corner of the building and peers out into the open. They left just in time. A security guard pushes through the gathered crowd and heads for the front entrance.

Danny retreats before anyone can see him, leaning against the side of the building. He shudders.

"I didn't know that could happen," Sam whispers as she comes up beside Danny.

"Not your fault. Ghosts don't make a point of going near mirrors," he says.

"You do, all the time. I saw you in a mirror this week."

"In your locker, yeah. But I'm not a ghost all the time. It doesn't work when I'm in human form."

"So, when you picked up the glass..." Sam trails off. Danny doesn't answer, letting her fill in the blanks for herself.

Neither of them says anything for a long moment. They hear the shout of the security guard, calling an al clear. Danny feels sorry for the workers at the park who have to deal with the aftermath. It didn't affect the whole boardwalk—he can see the Ferris wheel operating just fine, and a glow in the air from the game booth lights.

"Hey, kid."

Danny lifts his head toward Johnny.

"We're heading out. Consider us even."

"Thanks for showing her." Danny tilts his head back and thumps it against the wall of the house of mirrors. "You know, so I didn't have to."

Johnny shrugs. "Yeah, whatever. You're too young to deal with that shit, is all. Take care of your girl, alright?" He doesn't wait for an answer. Kitty is already gone, and Johnny goes invisible before Danny can think of a reply, leaving him and Sam alone.

"You never actually answered," Sam says, breaking the silence between them. "About why you took the double date."

Thank God it's too dark for Sam to see Danny's face go scarlet. In retrospect, of course Johnny's idea wouldn't end well, Danny was just so desperate he was willing to risk it.

"I asked him for dating advice," he mutters.

Sam splutters, a startled laugh bursting out of her. "What?"

"I couldn't think of anyone else to ask, so we made a deal. He invites us on a double date and gives me some tips, and I don't tell Kitty I caught him at the girl's college."

"You are such a dork." Sam snickers. "Is that why you kept watching him? I thought for a second me and Kitty might need to band together to keep you two apart."

Danny groans. "Please don't say that. Tucker already got me with that."

"Good. I hope he did." Sam shuffles over, leaning against Danny, and rests her head on his shoulder. "Danny, I don't need to hang off you like some soul-bound lovebird. We've known each other for ten years. I don't need some idealized romance, I just need you."

Danny feels like an idiot for ever thinking otherwise. The date might have been a train wreck, but half the boardwalk is still functioning. Maybe the evening doesn't have to be a total waste. He pulls the roll of game tickets—a precious commodity at the boardwalk—from his pocket and holds them out.

"Want to win Tucker that shark?" he asks.

Sam laughs, her shoulder shaking against his. "Only if we can ride the spaceship car on the Tilt-a-Whirl."

"Deal."

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gretchensinister · 4 years ago

Text

Little Souls and Careless Gods: An Exploration of Worldbuilding in Toy Story

Sid did nothing wrong.

Or, let me clarify. The things Sid did wrong were: taking his sister’s toys and modifying them without her permission. That’s it.

Hi, my name is gretchensinister and I have a lot of thoughts about the worldbuilding in Toy Story.

I should admit at this point that I haven’t seen Toy Story 4, only talked about it with someone who has, so if some of my questions are answered by that movie or if it torpedoes some of my speculations, that’s just—that’s just an imperfection of this essay.

I barely know where to begin, but, I started with Sid, so I’ll keep going with Sid. Sid is a kid. Sid is a jerk to his younger sister, but she’s freely yelling across the house tattling on him, so it doesn’t seem like she’s suffering irreparable damage from this. Other things Sid does: wins a squeaky toy for his dog in a claw machine game, blows up toys with fireworks, takes toys apart and joins them to other toys to make new toys. Burns a toy with a magnifying glass.

None of these things is an immoral action, for a person who, through all lived experience (until the toy attack) understands that toys are objects. It’s not bad to give your dog an object to chew on. It’s not bad (morally) to blow up an object with a firework. It’s not bad to take objects (that are yours) and make them into new, different objects. It’s not bad to burn an object with a magnifying glass. From the toys’ perspective, Sid is a sadistic mad scientist type, but from everything he could possibly know, his “torture” of Woody is messing around with an object! His object! That he got from a claw machine! The pretend torture as a choice of play is worth questioning, but it’s not so uncommon as a media trope that an average kid would never have seen anything like that in an action-adventure context. And it doesn’t predict how Sid will treat actual living beings!

(As an aside, I’m firmly of the belief that if you own an object, you should feel free to do whatever you want with it. Set it on fire, take it apart to see how it works, use it as raw materials in a craft project, etc. And yeah I would make exceptions to this rule for like, privately owned culturally significant art or scientifically significant artifacts…but if they’re that significant…they shouldn’t be privately owned.)

So yeah. Sid gets traumatized because he treats objects like objects, and the objects don’t like that. Because they’re actually alive and have now promised to constantly surveil him.

And let’s be clear: Andy doesn’t know toys are alive, either. He never does. He just has a different play style than Sid, and more of an interest in keeping his toys intact. Andy has no empathy with Woody and Buzz, because he is not aware that they are beings that he could empathize with.

All right. Beyond Sid, what I really want to talk about is the nature of a toy’s mind/soul in the Toy Story universe. I will call this the toy’s animus. Much like with the soul and mind of a human being, the animus raises several questions. How is the animus created? Where does the animus reside? Is the animus a tabula rasa, or does it possess innate knowledge? Where does this innate knowledge come from, if so? Is the animus mortal or immortal?

The Toy Story universe offers various pieces of evidence to answer these questions, and they are all extremely worrying if toys and humans are both morally significant beings, though humans do not know this about toys.

Is a toy mortal or immortal?

In the Toy Story movies it is clear that toys believe they can die. Sufficient destruction of the body would cause a toy’s death. Sid’s plan to blow up Buzz Lightyear with a firework threatens his life. In Toy Story 3, the toys in the trash incinerator clearly believe that burning/melting will kill them. But, short of catastrophic destruction of the body, toys are immortal. Jessie suffers, but does not die, from withdrawal of her owner’s love. Stinky Pete was never played with by a child, and he’s alive as any other toy. Additionally, human-mimicking toys are not killed even when damaged in ways that would kill a human, though this does affect their ability to communicate. In the tea party scene in Toy Story, the headless dolls wave when they are referred to. (This raises more questions—how does a headless doll experience the world? They can still hear, but how? Also, why doesn’t the headless teddy bear move? Perhaps they simply don’t want to get involved in whatever’s going on with Woody and Buzz.)

I think, according to what we see in the movies, the animus is divisible, and each part of the divided animus contains only a portion of the cognitive ability of the whole. Moreover, the animus is not centered in the head, but rather dispersed throughout the body. I would further argue that splitting the body/splitting the animus, is traumatic, even when reversible. Consider that Buzz’s mental breakdown coincides with the detachment of his arm.

What does this mean for Sid’s creations? Well, it would explain why they don’t talk. The baby-doll head with the spiderlike erector-set body (aside: is this a reference to The Thing (1982)?) really has no reason to be mute, if a toy simply must have a mouth to speak. Its form is unconventional, but, I would say, still “complete.” But if the head only carries an incomplete animus, and the erector set parts carry no animus of their own (an assumption which will be questioned later) then the whole toy would not have enough animus for verbal communication.

Janie the doll and the pterodactyl, with their switched heads, suffer significant disruption of their animi. Would their fractured animi eventually merge to form a new animus for each new body, with a different personality than Janie or pterodactyl? What part of the “Barbie” personality lingers in the animus of the toy crane with Barbie legs?

There is an exception to the concept of the fractured animus, however, and that is Mr. Potato Head. Mr. Potato Head exists in several parts to begin with, and mere separation does not fracture the animus. Curiously, though, some parts of Mr. Potato Head do not appear to contain any part of his animus, such as his plastic potato body. He retains all of his personality and ability to communicate when he has to put his features on a tortilla (?—don’t remember this part well) even though he is from an era of Mr. Potato Heads where his features are only meant to be put in the plastic potato body, not random foodstuffs. (Another question here: what would happen if an even amount of Mrs. Potato Head and Mr. Potato Head features were put on one plastic potato body? Do both animi retain coherence?) It is impossible not to wonder how far apart the features of Mr. Potato Head could be spread and the animus remain whole. At least as far apart as different buildings, as shown in Toy Story 3, but how much farther?

Creation of the animus and innate knowledge.

We are now about to embark on the specific topic that fills my thoughts now when I think about the Toy Story universe. I believe I will first fix myself a vodka cranberry (note: not just vodka and cranberry juice. To make it properly you must also add a splash each of orange juice and lime juice) and read a synopsis of Toy Story 4. Forky’s creation is a deep source of trouble here, and I must fortify myself to face it.

Where do I even begin? Okay. Bonnie, a kindergartner, creates Forky from items salvaged from the trash and names him. He comes to life after being named. According to the synopsis Forky then suffers an existential crisis because he believes he his trash and not a toy. So in this case, the animus appears to arrive after naming, and the animus is not a tabula rasa. The history of the materials appears to have some effect on the animus? (What this might mean for Rex or the plastic army men is especially concerning here.) It doesn’t make sense for Bonnie to think of Forky as trash, so this conviction has entered Forky’s animus from somewhere other than his creator. Also Bonnie has created sentient life without being aware of doing so, probably before being able to write a full sentence.

That’s troubling enough, because, to the eyes of adults or even older children, Forky is garbage. I project Forky’s lifespan of play to be that of months. And he won’t get passed onto other children. Depending on how Bonnie’s community disposes of trash, he may linger with an intact animus, at a landfill, for longer than Bonnie’s own life. It boggles the mind. (And invites hoarding in the empathetic.) However, despite all this, I would be cool with it if this was the only way toys became animate: being owned/named/played with by a child. That could be a complete worldbuilding conceit.

But that’s NOT how animi are generally formed in the Toy Story universe. Let’s back up to Toy Story. Buzz Lightyear has a personality and memories of his history as a space ranger right out of his box. And as we see in Toy Story 2, every Buzz Lightyear comes with that same initial personality. A commercial in Toy Story shows aisles upon aisles of Buzz Lightyears. Something has enabled the creation of thousands, if not millions, of identical animi. There is no direction this can go that isn’t kind of batshit.

Buzz Lightyear and the story that forms his memories were designed and created by adults. It was someone’s (and probably a team’s) job to design a toy that would be popular for a specific demographic, with (if I remember correctly) a cartoon that elaborates on the story and can basically serve as a long-running commercial for the toy. There were probably team meetings, and focus groups, and brand analysis to come up with the name “Buzz Lightyear.” And in such an endeavor, while I would like to imagine that there were some truly creative people involved who cared about the design and story, the people involved would not be the ones playing with the toys as toys want to be played with. And this is where every Buzz Lightyear animus comes from? But how? A manager or director approves the name and then…what? Is there a wellspring of animus that forms? Is it tied to the prototype? The factory workers in Taiwan don’t care about Buzz Lightyear the way Bonnie cares about Forky, and yet their actions in completing Buzz Lightyears call the animi to the plastic bodies. (And the animi are there, without a child’s touch. Stinky Pete was aware in his unopened box. Other toys opened a new Buzz Lightyear and got a living Buzz Lightyear.) And even leaving aside how the animi get into the Buzz Lightyears, the fact is that with millions of Buzz Lightyears out there, we have to conclude that the process that created his animus/animi is orders of magnitude more powerful than what Bonnie did to make Forky. Even assuming some personal care held by Buzz’s designers towards their design, it gets weird. The imaginations of adult toy designers are that much more powerful than a little girl creating and naming her own toy? NOT the way I would expect such a story-world to be set up, but the evidence is there.

And what if the designers of Buzz Lightyear weren’t particularly passionate? What if their boss just said “space is popular now, make me a space toy” and that’s the only reason why they did? That could very well be the case for a different type of toy in the series: the claw machine aliens. Those toys were not designed as a soulful passion project. I’m trying to write this to not be mean to designers who work in not-so-great places, but seriously. We have all seen generic toys in claw machine games before. They were not made to be immortally loved. (And yet! This is what the animus of a toy inherently desires!) Now, the claw machine aliens do seem to have much less backstory than Buzz Lightyear, and have personalities (or maybe just personality)/culture based on the nature of the claw machine. That makes sense, since they wouldn’t have been given a backstory with creation. The point is, though, that they still have animi. In the process of creating these cheap, cheap toys, by the dozens and hundreds and thousands, somehow their bodies were invested with full, identical animi. Adult, corporate creation somehow gives more life to toys than individual, child-led creation.

There are more questions to ask. If adults still have the power (and MASSIVELY MORE power) to invest toys with animi that they also possessed as children, then what can be invested with an animus? What are the limits of toy-ness in the Toy Story universe? Is it the name? I don’t think it’s the face, because there’s Woody merchandise in Toy Story 2 with Woody’s face on it that doesn’t talk. And I think that some faceless toys are shown to move independently/have an animus (possibly including things like LEGO—are the bricks a hivemind? Do the minifigs live inside sentient structures? Can they communicate with these structures? Also, if so, the erector set legs on Sid’s spider baby toy should have added to its total animus. But that’s not the corporate intent, so they’re still voiceless.). Christine (1983) could fit into this universe if the name is of primary importance (movie backstory for Christine, not book). But this would also mean that literally every boat and ship was sentient, but secretly so.*

If the name isn’t the important thing, is it the intent that the object be played with as a toy? In this case, that would mean that Bo Peep’s animus was not mass-produced, as she was originally part of a lamp if I remember correctly. Child-created animi would therefore be more common among non-toy objects than manufactured toys. I also want to bring The Brave Little Toaster (1987) up at this point. In this movie a group of appliances behave similarly to Toy Story toys in some ways, including being played with by their owner and then missing his attention to a high degree when he goes to college. However in this film all appliances and cars have animi, and I personally do not want my vacuum cleaner to feel any kind of way about me, or ever think I have played with it, because I hate vacuuming and would neglect it to death if feasible. (That being said…roombas in the Toy Story universe can hardly avoid being invested with animi, I imagine, no matter the details of the worldbuilding structure.) I bring this up, though, because Wikipedia notes that the original members of Pixar worked on The Brave Little Toaster. Toy Story was released in 1995 and was Pixar’s first feature length film. There is a connection, is what I am trying to say.

I think I have to go with: intent of the object to be a toy and/or being played with as a toy invests a toy with an animus. If it was the naming, then many, many public statues would be as alive as Woody and Buzz, and the people of Denver I’m sure have enough to worry about without Blucifer (Jiménez, 2008) galloping around. Bizarre to say that the least troubling option places mass production on a higher level of investing power than a child’s imagination. And I mean what I say about the mass produced animi being somehow more powerful than child-created animi.

Let’s go back to Sid’s creations. What is wrong with them? Why aren’t they able to communicate like Forky? Possibility 1: Sid just doesn’t have the creative power that Bonnie does. I don’t like this because, as I said at the beginning, Sid is not doing anything wrong by making these chimera toys. He’s treating objects as objects, and the difference between Sid’s chimera toys and Forky is that Forky’s component parts were not originally part of mass-produced toys. So, (from a worldbuilding/Watsonian perspective), I have to go with possibility 2, which goes like this: mass-produced toys are imbued with animi because they are toys. Sid’s chimera toys suffer from their animi being fractured when he alters them. But these fractured, mass-produced animi retain enough coherence and power that Sid, a child, cannot replace the fractured animus with whatever he imagines for his new creations. He’s an imaginative kid! But the corporate animus cannot be expelled. The factory animus is the underlying animus and cannot be removed once the toy is a toy. It can develop with memory and experience, but it will always be the toy making corporation that brought the spark of life, not the child that actually plays with the toy.

And this actually corresponds to Sid’s toys’ decision to rebel and help Woody and Buzz. Their animi are more loyal to the corporate intent that first created them. Sid made them into something new, presumably plays with them, and yet they are not Sid’s. They are meant to be read as broken and tortured (Sid has changed them from their factory-created wholeness), not as new beings. A factory-created, owned object, is meant to be held with the same level of care and maintenance of coherence as a living being in the Toy Story universe. What a child imagines about their own toys has less creative power than a distant designer who’s been told to come up with something appealing to put in a claw machine. Children only have animating power for their toys when they make them out of raw materials.

On the one hand, it’s tempting to say that of course the toys aren’t Sid’s, they’re their own people—isn’t that what having an animus means? But Woody, for example, find it very important that he’s Andy’s toy—a possession—“a child’s plaything.” Andy writes his name on him and this is very important to Woody, enough a part of his identity that when Andy’s name is painted over by the restorer in Toy Story 2 the scene reads as an erasure of something important to him, not as a restoration of his autonomy. Time and again we see that toys want to be owned by children.

This is another place where things get weird. First, I raise the question: What do toys need to keep animus and body together? Not much—only a certain baseline of bodily coherency. They don’t need to take in anything from their environment. More interesting, though, is that they don’t need anything from the children they bond to. Shelved, boxed, and forgotten toys suffer, but they don’t die from these states. No toy will ever find a toy’s corpse the way a human could find a human corpse—whole in every way except for the absence of the animating spirit.

So: toys as entities need little. The next question is then, what do toys want? Toys want to be owned and played with by a child (I say child and not children, because the communal state of the daycare in Toy Story 3 is clearly not desirable to the toys). Woody relishes his place as favorite and most played with toy at the beginning of Toy Story. In Toy Story 2 Jessie grieves when her child outgrows her. Stinky Pete was ignored by children for years, causing him to develop the abnormal belief that it would be better for the Woody’s Roundup toys to be preserved in a museum.

(At this point, I spot another thread to follow. It seems that for a toy, the most important relationship in their existence is meant to be toy + owner. In Toy Story Woody is very invested in making Buzz understand that Buzz is a toy and not a space ranger—Buzz is supposed to stay with Andy. In Toy Story 2 the consequences of not being owned by a child are grief and violence. But at the end Woody tells Buzz he’s not worried about Andy outgrowing him, since they’ll always have each other. Now, Toy Story 3 builds up Buzz/Jessie and in Toy Story 4 Bo Peep returns and Woody leaves Buzz and the other group of Andy’s toys for a life with her, but Woody also leaves the toy + owner life to be with Bo. Toys aren’t made to have an independent existence, yet this is how they end up, also acting as matchmakers to help lost toys find new owners and enter into new toy + owner relationships? THERE IS A WHOLE OTHER ESSAY HERE.)

To stay within just one rabbit hole here, however, I must focus on this: Toys want to be owned and played with by a child. They bond with child owners who do not deliberately alter their bodies (I add this because again, Sid’s toys do not appear to be bonded with him). But within this framework, there must be essential pain within a toy’s existence. Toys are immortal unless destroyed. Toys will experience actual play with a child for, let’s say, ten years, maximum, and that’s if the toy is given to the child when the child is very young and the toy is more classic/versatile than most. That’s way shorter than the best human friendships and familial relationships, and at least human beings can often reasonably hope to have lifespans that are of comparable lengths. Oh yeah, and among human beings people are usually AWARE of the relationship that’s taking place. So toys want to form deep bonds with their children and want to have these relationships last. But the relationships can’t last. I’ll gladly state that play, in some form, is necessary for humans to thrive throughout their lives, but the kind of play that the toys in Toy Story find ideal is a childhood phase of play that that most people naturally outgrow. And even if a human did engage in play ideal for toys throughout their entire life, toys are immortal unless destroyed. All toys will lose their owners, and usually after a pretty short handful of years.

The aftermath of the owner + toy relationship is always painful for the toy. What are the options? To remain owned, but not played with: perhaps the “best” option, but it still leaves the toy with only a memory of a full life. Is a shelf life really a life? This is what was facing Woody, I believe, if Andy had taken him with him to college. Another option: to be outgrown and forgotten. This is what happens to Jessie, and it is a deeply, deeply painful experience for her. She develops claustrophobia from being stored in a box. To be donated or sold at a garage sale: also a source of trauma and panic for the toys, but still better than the worst fate, to be thrown out. But toys that have been separated from their previous owners are so often grieving and/or bitter in the Toy Story series.

This is troubling, to say the least, but it also loops back to questions about the animus and memory. Toys are not tabula rasa. Buzz has a strong personality and memory set from his unboxing. Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head do not need to court each other. Tour Guide Barbie will act as a tour guide in the absence of children. But with time, and accumulation of true memories as a toy, the toys will develop their own personalities, even if the animus starting point can often remain a strong influence. In Toy Story 3, however, we learn that certain toys, such as Buzz Lightyear, can be returned to the original animus state through a factory reset. I hardly know what to do with this. It wasn’t a permanent reset; Buzz’s memories and the personality he’s developed do come back. (But now he also has access to a “Spanish mode” that is…sexier (can such a word apply?) to Jessie than his English mode. Also other toys can put him into his mode against his will. There are so many worms in this can. Sexualization of Latinx people, can a toy expect bodily autonomy from other toys, etc.?) But not every toy has a reset button. Woody doesn’t. Slinky Dog, Rex, Mr. Potato Head, etc. don’t. Does the threat of a reset only affect toys with bodily components that could be considered brain analogues, i.e., microchips? But the animus is not the “brain” and neither does the “brain” store memories/personality. I really, really don’t know what to do with this, except it seems once again to assert the ultimate strength of the adult/corporate-created animus.

The point is, toys can lose their memories, but when we see that in the movies, it leads the toy to go back to their earliest state.

Now: a mystery. In Toy Story, Woody has developed enough memory and personality that he is well aware of being a toy and is involved with the life of Andy’s room in ways that neither his sheriff role or Andy’s imagination reasonably encompasses. (Consider the “Plastic Corrosion Awareness Meeting.”) All right. This would be of no concern if Woody was a generic wild west doll, but he’s not. He was made to represent a character on the Woody’s Roundup TV show in the 1950s. He would have had an animus strongly imprinted with that backstory just like Buzz Lightyear had his strongly imprinted space ranger backstory. Well, then maybe this means that Woody just never lost his memory. That would be the best explanation. That’s why he has a personality mostly free from this imprinted backstory, having been Andy’s favorite toy for some time. But Woody has lost his memory. In Toy Story 2, Woody learns (learns!) that he’s a representation of a TV character. He meets Jessie and Bullseye and Stinky Pete without knowing who they are at all. Woody has somehow completely forgotten his origins. He experienced memory loss that brought him farther away from his animus starting point.

Okay, so there are multiple kinds of amnesia for toys; I was wrong in my earlier assertion that memory loss tends to the origin animus. But I want to keep poking at Woody’s memory issues because of something else that Woody’s timeline leads me to conclude: Andy is not Woody’s first owner, OR Woody was boxed up and forgotten for DECADES before Andy. Actually, he’s probably spent a significant amount of time in storage or on a shelf regardless of whether Andy is his first owner or not.

Toy Story was released in 1995. If the story is set in the present, then Andy is very close to my age. Now, Woody is “an old family toy” according to Toy Story 2, and Al, as a toy collector, was so thrilled and astonished to find a Woody at a garage sale that he stole him when he learned he wasn’t actually for sale. This leads me to the conclusion that Woody toys aren’t in continuous production. Woody was probably only manufactured during the height of Woody’s Roundup’s popularity, in the 1950s. So there’s two options for Woody’s ownership history. I’m also going to presume in both cases that Andy’s father was the parent that previously owned him, though there’s no reason why his mother couldn’t have been the owner.

So, option one: the young parents/young grandparents option. If Andy’s grandparents had his father when they were about twenty, and then Andy’s parents had Andy when they were about twenty, then Andy’s grandfather could have gotten Woody at ideal playing age and then later passed him down to Andy’s father and then Andy’s father would have passed him to Andy. I don’t think this is the case, though, because Woody still has his incredibly rare hat and a functional voice box. If Woody had been played with by a child at ideal playing age at the height of the popularity of his character’s show, I think it’s likely that he would have gotten played with so much (and taken to places so much) that he would have lost his hat and his voice box would have worn out. Woody didn’t start off life as a collectible, and play causes wear and tear on toys. And if Woody was originally the grandfather’s toy, then he would have gone through another round of play with Andy’s father. Woody’s condition is too good for that. Unless, that is, Andy’s whole family is made up of people who are unusually careful with their toys? That’s sort of an intriguing idea, since it means that Sid’s actions look even more horrifying by contrast, and generations of “ideal owners” for Woody obscure the bizarre nature of the life of a thinking, feeling toy. However, the Toy Story universe keeps raising questions in Toy Story 2-4 about what it means to be a toy, so there doesn’t seem to be a motivation in the series for such obscuring. This is despite the fact that Woody’s amnesia does obscure some things about the nature of a toy’s life, at least in the original Toy Story. (I know the Doylist perspective answers all this easily—this isn’t what the audience is meant to think about, Woody’s backstory as a toy from a 1950s TV show isn’t important in Toy Story, and in fact this backstory didn’t exist until Toy Story 2 was created.)

Regardless, I don’t think the young parents/young grandparents option is the right one. Instead, I choose option 2: the slightly older parents option. Woody’s Roundup is a TV show from the 1950s. It was popular enough to lead to a lot of merchandise, not just the dolls of the main characters. Brief research shows that in the 1950s television Westerns were incredibly popular, and there were Westerns made for kids and Westerns made for adults. The question I’m trying to get at here is trying to figure out how Andy’s grandparents would have known about a kid’s Western show. But, it’s really not that difficult. In this timeline I’m building now, Andy’s father would have been born in the 1950s, making him in his early-mid thirties when he became Andy’s father. Given this timeline, it’s overwhelmingly likely that Andy’s father has siblings, including older siblings, that might already watch Woody’s Roundup. Or, even if Andy’s father was the oldest child, it’s also overwhelmingly likely that Andy’s grandparents’ friends had plenty of kids of their own and probably talked among themselves about what kids liked. The significant thing in this timeline is that Woody would have been given to Andy’s father when Andy’s father was very young. Perhaps too young for a Woody doll, but perhaps also with the assumption that Andy’s father would grow into the doll. So Woody is unboxed and waits on a shelf for a couple years while Andy’s father grows a little. My theory is that Woody’s Roundup was no longer on television by the time Andy’s father was at the right age to start playing with a doll of Woody’s type. This would have two consequences. One: Andy’s father would have been unguided by the TV show in regard of how to play with Woody, meaning that Woody would have formed many memories unrelated to his original animus in this early stage of his life. Two: even though Woody was played with, he never was Andy’s father’s favorite toy, which is why he was able to be passed down to Andy in good condition (and still with his hat).

In this option 2, which I feel is more likely, Woody has probably spent at least 25 years on a shelf or in storage. So why is this important? I think it’s important because Woody doesn’t act like he’s been through the decades-in-storage experience, or the experience of having an owner outgrow him. He sympathizes with Jessie after learning her story, but he says nothing about having experienced anything like it himself. And as far as the movies are concerned, his worries about Andy outgrowing him are new worries. But they can’t be new! He’s already been outgrown at least once before! I mean, with Andy he’s a favorite toy, so that’s a unique owner + toy relationship status that he (probably) didn’t have before. Maybe that amplifies what he’s going through this time?

But there’s another aspect to Woody’s experiences that I want to touch on. All the other toys he would have known as Andy’s father’s toy are gone. There are no other “heirloom” toys in Andy’s room, or at least there is no evidence of this. All of Andy’s other toys seem to have been purchased just for Andy, and purchased new. There is no reference to garage sale trauma, previous owners, or anything like that. And as we’ve seen from other toys throughout the series, toys remember that kind of thing! But Woody doesn’t. His animus is one that shows years of experience building over his character backstory, but he never acts like he’s experienced being outgrown or losing all his toy friends.

Or at least he never says anything about such experiences.

I think it makes sense to read Woody’s amnesia as genuine. But I also think it would be reasonable to read his character as one that has undergone traumatic experiences and has responded by burying them so deep within his mind that he has no conscious access to them, even though they influence his current personality and life. (It’s impossible to know, but do toys in every household respond to birthdays and Christmas with such intense monitoring—with the desire for even the slightest early warning of replacement? Woody is the one who worries most about these celebrations, extremely anxious of his own status as favorite toy.) That the ending of Toy Story 4 removes him from the cycle of ownership and outgrowing can’t be ignored. Better to not have an owner than to experience losing an owner again, and again, and again?

But I do think there is one other possibility: Andy’s ownership of Woody caused him to lose all his memories of Andy’s father. A child may not be able to give a manufactured toy a new animus, but by possessing a toy in a play relationship (as opposed to a collector relationship) a child may be able to overwrite any memories of the toy’s previous owner. The process doesn’t happen instantaneously, as Andy’s toys don’t immediately forget him upon being transferred to Bonnie, but it would certainly explain why Woody makes no reference ever to a previous owner, even though he was most likely manufactured at least 35 years before coming into Andy’s possession. However, Jessie’s story argues against this. While she is happy among Andy’s toys, there’s nothing to show that she is forgetting her own past.

The possibility of a new child owner driving out all thoughts of the previous one is interesting, as it puts some degree of power over the toy’s animus back with the child. However, in the Toy Story universe, it’s clear that if this is the case, it’s not an instantaneous process. And if it’s not an instantaneous process, then it becomes overly complex. What memories would be driven out? For toys less adventurous than the main characters of the Toy Story movies, their whole lives are centered on their owners. They live in their child’s room/house. Anything that took place there would have to be forgotten to not bring up thoughts of the previous owner, including conversations with other toys that were friends of that first toy. At this point we approach a state of complete memory loss before the claim by a new owner. A gradual process would at least allow continuity of personality, since new memories under the new owner would be continually being made. But then, some new memories would have to fade, also. For wouldn’t a toy talk about their past while they could still remember it? And wouldn’t their new friends maybe bring up their past in conversation sometimes? They might even talk about the process of forgetting. That process would be noticed and known among toys. No, after thinking about it, I would say that there is no inherent forgetting process. Memories will mostly tend to stay, with whatever pain and joy they bring. And there will never be any transition process that is easy for the toy.

Woody’s amnesia remains his own, and remains his best defense against the trauma of being outgrown and shelved or stored for many years.

Toys have a strange and painful lot in life, semi-immortals being made to be silent companions to the briefest stage of a mortal lifespan. They live because they are made for children, but for most, in this world of mass production, children do not create them. Their animi are the spawn of creators who have no intent to create thinking, feeling beings. Escaping the stamp of such thoughtless creation means living long enough to know the deepest loss a toy can experience. Sometimes the only way to move forward from such loss is to forget. And yet, there is little will for most toys to move beyond this cycle. Toys overwhelmingly retain their roles as objects. I’d like to say that maybe this means that play is worth it, that temporary joy is worth it. But maybe it’s just the nature of being a toy. After all, if there’s any intent in their creation, there was the intent that they should be objects.

*I would never leave a dangling asterisk. My previous point was about ships and boats, but, if seagoing vehicles live because they are named, then there’s no reason why land vehicles would not do the same. It might be possible to argue that the Cars universe came about after some cataclysm wiped out humans and left only named vehicles behind.

Other avenues of investigation that were beyond the scope of this essay:

1) The situation between the Diamonds and every other gem in Steven Universe is highly analogous to the situation between humans and toys in the Toy Story universe, save for the crucial difference that the Diamonds have no excuse to not know that the other gems are complete feeling, thinking beings and to treat them as such. It was actually parallels I saw between Spinel + Pink Diamond and Jessie + her owner that got me thinking about aspects of the Toy Story universe in ways that I know are meant to be ignored. Also Pink Diamond bringing all those little pebble people to life just by crying on them. That’s a lot of responsibility coming from a solitary expression of emotion!

2) I’d be curious to know if a hugely popular series based on the agency of objects has had an effect on fan culture at all. Or it might at least be a way to examine actions taken on behalf of characters. Fictional characters, after all, don’t feel any kind of way about the situations and relationships people envision them in. They’re mental objects like toys are physical objects. In the real world is anyone going to argue that putting the faces of dolls or action figures together and making kissing noises is something to worry about? Is anything about putting a naked Barbie on top of a naked Ken a harmful act? In the real world I would say no. Also, with full awareness that this is a can of worms, what is the impact of such things in the Toy Story universe? Obviously this wouldn’t be addressed in any canon. But the Toy Story universe is supposed to be like reality with one big secret so there are kids that are definitely using their toys to play out love stories and stories including a vague understanding of sex. And another aspect to all this…if you’ve seen Booksmart, consider one of the characters’ uses of her childhood stuffed animal. I understand that this is not uncommon.

All right. I think I’m done now. And that I will probably go get another drink.

(I had a few baby dolls as a child that included their own toys as accessories. H—how would THAT work?)

#I've been out of school for YEARS and yet I was still compelled to write a long and slightly deranged essay in mid-December #Toy Story

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tainted-wine · 4 years ago

Text

Honorable Mention

I heard @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten SOS signal to all Hizashi fuckers and I have responded accordingly. Sorry for being late to the party!

Words: 1.4k

Warnings: None, except for spoilers for the current arc.

The interview room was warmly furnished in a way to make guests feel at home, not like they were in a professional setting. The beams from the sun were perfectly aimed to make the smiling hero’s face glow. Attractive, and quite distracting.

It was all going fairly smoothly so far. Hizashi held no animosity toward anyone for missing out on the Top 10 Party. Every question about his personal feelings on the matter was answered with something along the lines of “It’s nothin!”

“Not gonna lie, I’m bummed that I don’t get to wear the steampunk outfit they had planned for me. Have you seen the design? I would’ve had an entire phonograph attached to my neck!” He laughed and slapped the armrest of his plush chair. “But it’s not like I wasn’t there, I was the one announcing the winners. That’s what I do best!”

You nodded as you scan your list of planned questions. “That’s true. Your presence has always been there, especially in the anime.”

“Exactly! Who else is gonna call out new characters and explain their quirks? That role is for me and only me, baby!”

“I agree, but after the work you’ve put in during the War Arc, many of us believe that you deserve more love. Especially after your infamous DJ Punch.”

“Ohohohoo,” Hizashi chuckled lowly at the pleasant memory. “Now there’s something I want! A few more right hooks to that doctor’s jaw. Sometimes screaming just doesn’t cut it, ya know? I’d rather get a little more hands-on, ‘specially when things get...personal.” His expression flashed into something darker, but the mysterious thought appears to leave his mind as quickly as it came.

You ignore it and stay on topic. No need to make this interview heavy or distressing in any way. “It was a very pleasant surprise for us, seeing you get up close and personal like that. I never pegged you as the physical type.”

He shrugged. “I hear that all the time, but come on, what do you guys think I do when I can’t use my super hazardous quirk? Do you think I just stand there and commentate?”

Well, when he puts it like that... “My apologies, I suppose it just never crossed my mind.”

He held up a hand to halt any rising feelings of guilt. “No worries, listener. I don’t mind my reputation as just ‘The Announcer Guy’, it makes things all the more satisfying when I see the shock on a villain’s face after I bust his nose.”

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

Frankly, the interview wasn’t nearly as passionate and bitter as many were definitely hoping it would be, but you didn’t want to antagonize the friendly hero for the public’s entertainment. If the poll results didn’t bother him, then that’s just how it is.

After shaking hands, you both stood up and straightened yourselves out. You uttered a “thanks again” to him before taking your clipboard and pen, but Hizashi speaks up the second you take your first step toward the door.

“Y’know, it’s not that hard to throw a decent punch.”

You turn to him. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. How about a free lesson in exchange for a nice clean interview. I appreciate it!”

That’s...well, you had things to get done, but, “Alright.” Your interest in Present Mic wasn’t just an act put up for the sake of the interview. You're a genuine fan that isn’t going to pass up the opportunity to personally learn something from him.

The hero gently took your things and placed them to the side before taking his place right in front of you. “Okay, go ahead and take a swing at your boy.” His arms opened up, waiting patiently for your attack.

You shifted awkwardly, unsure of the proper way to punch, so you just ball your hand into what you believe is a decent fist and weakly shoot it forward.

A gloved palm stops it before making contact, his grip gentle yet firm. Emerald eyes examine your fist closely — it all has goosebumps forming on your skin for reasons you don’t know. Or at least you don’t think you know. “Not bad! Always make sure your thumb is on the outside and your fingers curl into your palm. Gotta take that impact without damaging your hand. Try again!”

You withdraw your hand and take his advice, positioning your fingers like he told you before launching another strike. He catches it again, this time with a hum of approval. “Ya wanna hit me with your knuckles, not the flat of your fingers. Turn it up and try again!”

You do just that. Another punch, another quick lesson.

Hizashi gets closer than you ever imagined, those talented hands positioning your hips and shoulders at more appropriate angles. “The power comes from your whole body!” He states before motioning for another go.

This isn’t at all how you planned to spend your break after the interview, but you had no complaints even as you exposed your clumsiness to the renowned hero. He was a teacher, after all. You just didn’t expect him to be as proficient at teaching self-defense as he was with English.

“So,” he starts up while casually catching your fists. “How did you personally feel when I punched Dr. Douche in the face?”

The question makes you pause, but a quick gesture from Hizashi urges you to keep going. “I...well, it was admirable.”

More than that. The raw fury emitting from the normally carefree man when he charged Ujiko was...enticing. Exhilarating.

It was hot, alright? It was pretty hot, but you weren’t going to tell him that.

“Thanks! Good to know that breaking jaws gets people pumped! I’ve heard a bit of feedback from my dear listeners. Some found it shocking, some found it kinda sexy.”

Well shit.

“I can understand that.” It left your mouth before you could even think. Why the hell did you even comment on that, you idiot?

Hizashi quirked an eyebrow and grinned. “Can you, now? Give me your two cents on it.”

Your stance falters and you almost fall forward during your next swing. You thankfully catch yourself before he can do it for you. That would’ve made matters even more awkward. “That’s—of course, it’s common to find sudden aggression in an otherwise friendly person attractive.”

“Is that what it is? I just gotta do less screaming and beat more faces in so that the ladies will find me hot?”

“Of course not! You’re always—”

You stop yourself.

Whoops.

Hizashi lowered his shades just enough to give you the smuggest look that has ever graced his face. “Always what?”

Shaky stutters and darting eyes are your answer. Desperate to ignore the heat rising in your face, you fire a punch that’s much more powerful than intended.

Even with the added speed and force, he sees it coming and not only catches it, but sends your entire world spinning when he pulls you forward and twists your arm until you’ve completely twirled around with your back pressed against him. It all happened so fast that you didn’t even notice the startled squeak you made.

Your wrist is being held tightly against your lower back. The breath from his chuckle can be felt against your ear which is way too close and you might melt. “Uh-oh, someone just got a hold of you!” He exclaims in a fake panic. “How do you get him off?”

Shut up, brain. That probably isn’t what he meant.

Wanting to escape his grasp before he notices the effect he’s having on you, your free arm whips back with the limited amount of room it has, hoping to knock him back and loosen his grip, only for him to catch your other wrist and wrap your arm around the front of your body.

“Yikes, that didn’t work either!” The bastard had you trapped, his hold getting tighter every time you squirmed. You should probably stop because he’s only getting closer, his chest rising and falling against you at a much slower rate than yours. “Looks like you’re in trouble!”

One minute you were having a professional conversation with Present Mic. The next, he’s giving you a free fighting lesson. And then the next, he has you completely subdued and pressed against him.

And with his voice low enough to make your body shake, he speaks right into your ear again.

“I think you’re pretty hot too, listener.”

#Present mic #Yamada Hizashi #hizashi yamada x reader #present mic x reader #I'M SORRY I'M TWO DAYS LATE LEMON #I had to bounce right after making that post about the poll #i'm so sad that i missed Hizashi thirst hours ;.;

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charincharge · 4 years ago

Text

AN: Here’s the fourth and final installment of the Actress AU. It was ready much sooner than I anticipated! If you haven’t read the first three parts, you can find them below. I hope this is a satisfying conclusion for you all! xo.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Aelin squinted against a harsh white light, making her head throb. She went to rub the mascara from her sticky lashes, but her hand tugged painfully. She struggled to focus, her brain slowly catching up with her vision as she took in her stark surroundings.

Her breathing increased as she realized where she was.

She tugged her hand again, wincing as the tube under her skin pulled at the tape covering it. Another tube ran into two smaller ones, inserted into her nose, pushing a steady stream of cold air down her throat.

Despite the tubes in her nose, the overwhelming smell of lemon antiseptic pervaded her senses, and she struggled to swallow down the pool of saliva that formed in her mouth as nausea swirled around her stomach.

It clenched hard, and before she knew what was happening, she was on her side, a thin yellow stream of bile pouring from her mouth into a light pink tub placed in front of her face seemingly out of nowhere. It splashed gently, and Aelin recoiled from the smell, her body sweating and shaking with the effort it took to expel the disgusting substance.

“That’s it,” a woman’s soft voice cooed, rubbing at her back. “You’re okay, darling,” it repeated. Despite being unable to see who was touching her, Aelin relaxed into the woman’s hand as she finished throwing up.

She wiped at her mouth, wanting to get rid of the sour taste in her mouth and graciously accepted a small paper cup of water from another mystery person.

Aelin wiped at her eyes again and rolled onto her back into the lumpy pillow behind her head and finally looked around. The hospital room’s curtains had been drawn, letting early morning sunshine filter in, but it was no match for the harsh fluorescents which shone down on Aelin, making her sweat. Two nurses bustled around her, their light green scrubs swishing as they switched out her IV bag and adjusted the oxygen tank beside her.

“You gave everyone quite a scare, sweetheart” the dark-haired nurse said, smoothing Aelin’s hair away from her face. It crunched beneath her touch, still coated in layers of hairspray.

“What happened?” Aelin croaked. The last thing she remembered was being at the premiere party. But judging by the amount of sunlight streaming through the windows, that was hours ago.

“I’m going to grab the doctor, and she’ll explain everything,” the woman said, her even voice attempting to calm Aelin’s racing heart.

Her head pounded agonizingly as she attempted to nod, and the nurse frowned in understanding.

She shushed Aelin, who hadn’t even realized she’d started crying softly as she readjusted her pillows behind her, trying to make her more comfortable. But it was impossible. Every part of Aelin ached with discomfort.

A beautiful woman with long chestnut curls and caramel skin swept into the room, her dark eyes immediately going to Aelin as she introduced herself.

“Aelin,” she said with a professional nod. “I’m Doctor Towers, and I’ve been treating you since you came in last night.” She paused, taking a step closer. “Do you remember what happened?”

Aelin winced as she shook her head again.

“That’s okay,” Dr. Towers assured her. “You had an accidental overdose.” Aelin’s mouth gaped, opened and closing as she struggled to find the words, but the doctor continued. “You came in with cocaine and fentanyl in your system, which is unfortunately something I’ve been seeing more and more of.”

“Fentanyl?” Aelin asked, confused. She had no idea what that even was, and she certainly had no knowledge of taking it.

Dr. Towers narrowed her eyes. “You are extremely lucky to be alive right now. When your friend brought you in, you were completely nonresponsive.”

Aelin gasped. Fear and shame crashed down on her. She was sure this would be all over the gossip sites. She’d be written off as a party girl, instead of a serious budding actress. Everything she’d endured with Arobynn would be for nothing. Another tear fell down her cheek as the doctor explained her treatment.

“We administered Narcan, which is used to treat opioid overdose and were able to get you breathing again.”

“Opioid?”

The doctor pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “I’m going to assume you don’t know that your cocaine was cut with fentanyl. It’s been used more frequently as filler, but, as you experienced, it can have potentially fatal interactions.” She paused again. “As I said, you were extremely lucky.” Her face softened as Aelin wiped another tear away. “How are you feeling, physically?”

“Bad,” Aelin chuckled through her tears.

“I’ll bet.” Doctor Towers sighed and adjusted her clipboard. “You’re going to experience a lot of pain today. Your body is going through opioid withdrawal now, as well as cocaine. Plus, Narcan has a few side effects as well – stomach pain, nausea, vomiting, fever, body aches. All sound about right?” Aelin nodded. “We’re going to keep you here to monitor your recovery for the next twelve hours. If you feel shortness of breath or like someone is suddenly sitting on your chest, call for a nurse immediately.”

“Okay,” Aelin said, her voice barely a whisper.

“Because of the events that led you here, you’re required to talk to a psychiatrist. She’s fantastic. Her name is Dr. Ytger, and she can help you decide what your next course of action should be.” Dr. Towers smiled, her seriousness dissolving slightly as her eyes warmed with kindness. “In the meantime, there are quite a few worried people, who have been waiting for you to wake up. If you feel up to it, they can come see you one-by-one.”

Aelin’s chest pounded uncomfortably. “There are people here?”

Dr. Towers’ smile widened as she nodded. “The man who brought you in has asked that he be first to see you.”

“Man?” Aelin rasped. She’d been so sure Manon would have been the one to take her to the hospital, hopefully fielding press the whole time.

Her breath caught as Dr. Towers’s eyes narrowed. “Tall, striking eyes. Pacing a hole in the waiting room carpet?”

Her breath picked up, and she struggled to calm herself as Arobynn’s faux-worried face appeared in her minds eye. She could only imagine how mad he was if he was forced to leave his own premiere party in an ambulance. Just the thought of his angry face was enough to have her feeling nauseous again. She was sure he was only here to protect his image. Heaven forbid his muse died.

“Do you not want to see him?” the doctor asked. “Aelin, if you’re in danger you can tell me. I can have the police here, and I will happily kick that green-eyed man to the curb.”

“Green?” Aelin’s head swirled. “Rowan brought me in? Not a man with red hair?”

The doctor shook her head. “No. No red-headed man.”

As relief flooded her body, she must have nodded because before she knew it, the doctor was exiting her room and returning with Rowan in tow.

Despite the pain that surged through her body, Aelin’s chest warmed at the sight of him. His tux was rumpled beyond belief, his sleeves pushed up to reveal his forearms, and dark purple circles on his skin contrasted with his red-rimmed eyes. He must have been here all night.

He perched himself at the edge of the hospital bed, careful to not brush against Aelin beneath the thin blue blanket, and the night came rushing back to her. The carpet, Rowan’s girlfriend, cocaine in the closet with Archer… She felt awful. She’d absolutely ruined Rowan’s night.

“I’m so glad to see those eyes open again,” he whispered, and Aelin could feel a soft pressure build at her throat. For a second, she was concerned it was the shortness of breath she was supposed to be looking out for, but as she took a deep breath, she couldn’t control the sob that escaped her lips.

Tears poured from her eyes, dripping in steady rivulets down her cheeks, down her chin and dripping onto her hospital gown in dark grey splotches as they mixed with her makeup.

Rowan tentatively raised his hand to her face and wiped at her tears, his thumb caressing her cheek with such a softness that it did nothing to abate her crying. Gods, she had missed his touch. She leaned her head into his hand and sighed, her breath shaking with her tears as they stared at each other in silence.

“I’m sorry,” Aelin whispered finally. She had to apologize to him for ruining his night. For bringing him here, for making him stay in the hospital for hours when he should have been celebrating his feature success.

His green eyes hardened as he spoke, though the soft caress of his thumb never ceased. “None of this is your fault, Aelin. None.”

“But, I ruined your big night, and…”

Rowan paused as he leaned forward, his lips pursing as he examined her face. “Baby,” he said so reverently that it nearly knocked her out. “You almost died, and you think I care about some fucking party?”

His fingers slid to her hair, crunching beneath his touch as Aelin tried not to cringe. She was a complete mess. A stupid, selfish mess. But she couldn’t imagine not wanting this, not wanting him. And she would take whatever he gave her.

“I swear I’m not an addict, I just really like the way cocaine smells.” She attempted to smile as tears formed in Rowan’s eyes.

“That is the worst joke I’ve ever heard,” he said, though he chuckled softly regardless of her inappropriate words. “And I know you’re not an addict,” he sighed. “That’s what I was trying to talk to you about last night. Why I wanted you to meet my—”

“Girlfriend?” Aelin’s heart sank as she remembered the circumstances that led to her latest brush with white dust. But Rowan’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“What? No,” he said, shaking his head. “My cousin.”

“Your cousin?” Aelin’s head was reeling. She was in too much pain and too exhausted for this kind of information. She was confused. Yet again.

“Tall? Blonde? Bright green eyes just like every Whitethorn? Walked the carpet with me?”

“Your cousin,” Aelin repeated. She tried to remember the beautiful blonde draped on Rowan’s arm, but she was nothing more than a hazy memory of blonde smiles and hurt feelings.

“She’s a reporter for The Terrasen Times,” he began. “She’s being doing a series of exposes on abusers in the film industry, and Aelin, she has enough to take Arobynn down.” He breathed in deeply, his bright eyes shining as they filled with tears. “I knew as soon as you kicked me out of your trailer that something had happened. But I didn’t get confirmation until I saw you at that press junket. You’re just the latest in a long line of young actresses emotionally abused and threatened and hooked on drugs to control them. I kept my distance because I didn’t want him to use me against you. But… I didn’t think…” His lip quivered as he fought with his tears. “Baby, I’m so sorry I didn’t protect you.”

“I don’t understand,” Aelin said, her mind swimming with his words but not really processing any of them.

“Four women came forward and are pressing charges against him, Aelin. The article went live last night.” Rowan’s eyes pierced through her as she inhaled a sharp breath. “He’s going to jail. He can’t touch you anymore.”

Months of frustration and fear and anger and shame and guilt released at Rowan’s words, and a fresh wave of tears poured down Aelin’s cheeks. Her body shook, as she felt herself freed from Arobynn’s vindictive grasp. Free. She couldn’t even imagine it.

She reached forward and buried her face into Rowan’s shoulder, letting his arms cradle her and soothe her pain. She inhaled deeply, wanting to immerse herself his scent, but all she could smell was stale alcohol and faint traces of vomit. The smell made her dizzy with nausea, and she soon pulled away to vomit into the bucket next to her bed.

She wiped at her face, black smudging against her skin as she pulled her hands away. “Well, that was romantic,” she laughed, though her tone was anything but humorous.

“Aelin,” Rowan murmured her name with a quiet exuberance. “I don’t care that you’ve been throwing up for hours,” he said seriously. “I love you, have been in love with you, since the first time I laid eyes on you almost a year ago, and I need to kiss you right now.” He smiled sweetly, and as he leaned in, Aelin could feel her heart stutter. “Is this romantic enough for you?” he asked, his lips merely a breath away from hers.

“I love you, too,” she replied. Her confession warmed her from the inside out as their matching smiles met in a soft kiss. His hands stroked the back of her neck, soothing her quivering muscles.

His lips pressed against hers again, seemingly unable to pull back, but Aelin felt her exhaustion catching up with her heavily beating heart all too soon. A large yawn escaped her lips, and Rowan pulled back, his hand trailing down her arm to her tube-laden hand and squeezing it gently.

“Sleep,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She squeezed his hand in return and pulled him toward her. “Come cuddle,” she asked with wide eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere, Aelin,” he replied seriously. “Not ever again.”

But despite his words, he climbed into the small cot with her, arms wrapped around her shoulders. And despite the sweat and the nausea and stomach pain, Aelin fell sleep peacefully for the first time in months.

~*~

ToG tag list:

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#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #charincharge writes #actress au #throne of glass fanfic #tog fanfic

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thatmultifandomhoe · 4 years ago

Text

Knitting You a Home - 1

Pairing: Wolf Hybrid Namjoon and Human Reader

Word Count: 2k

Genre/Rating: Hybrid AU - Established Relationship - Angst - Fluff - Smut - PG-13

Overview: Things have changed for you and Namjoon. It’s been a year since the two of you got together, and despite a rocky start, it was impossible to deny the bond and love you shared for each other. But ever since Hoseok had been separated from his Mate, Namjoon has been withdrawing himself from you and doesn’t come home until late at night.

With questions far larger than either of you imagined, you can’t help but wonder if he’s let his past and old fears come back to haunt him. You had shown him that it was possible to have a home and be loved once before, but will you be able to do it again?

Warning: Besides a storm, none. Maybe a few editing mistakes.

Playlist:

Main Master List:

Knitting You a Home Master List:

Mated Love is Never Easy Master List:

Sneak Peak - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - ?

June 2018…

The wind howled while rain pelted your house as the storm refused to let up. You softly groaned, scrunching you nose up as you tugged the warm blankets tightly around your body, burying your face into the pillow. It was a weak attempt at trying to fall back asleep, but it was necessary since you had to be up to open the shop at nine in the morning.

It was silent in your house with the exception of your room, where you had a playlist of instrumental music playing. Absolute silence unnerved you and the music served to help sleep at night when the shadows haunted you as you slept. Tonight however, the soothing notes of the violin did nothing to ease you back into your dreams.

You squeezed your eyes shut as thunder rumbled overhead, wishing once again that you hadn’t woken up during the storm. Living on your own had its perks, but going through storms all alone wasn’t on that list.

Lightning cracked in the midnight sky, lighting up your room briefly just as your phone vibrated against the nightstand. Groaning, you forced yourself to roll over, blinking until you were able to read the numbers glowing from your alarm clock. It was almost four in the morning. Why the hell was someone calling you?

It took a few tries, but after fumbling around you nabbed your phone and successfully swiped the green icon.

“Hello?” Your murmured, huddling back under the blankets.

“Thank God you answered; I need your help.”

Frowning in confusion, you lifted the phone up, squinting as the bright screen came back on. The number wasn’t one you recognized. “Who’s this?” You asked instead.

“It’s Luna,” the voice answered. In the background there was rustling and multiple voices talking over each other. “Listen, I know it’s wicked late, but I’m at the Homeless Center and I have a huge favor.”

You turned the lamp on as you sat up, pulling your knees up to your chest as you tried to listen easier. “Luna? What’s wrong?”

“I’m at the Homeless Center for Hybrids,” Luna answered, raising her voice to be heard over all the noise. “This is probably me asking too much, but I have a hybrid here and with the storm we don’t have much space left. I was thinking and I thought you had a spare bedroom but I couldn’t remember…is there any way you’d be willing to let a hybrid stay with you? It wouldn’t be forever.”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” waving your hand as if she was here, you leaned your head back against the headboard. Outside, lightning flashed again making you flinch. “It’s four in the morning Luna.”

There was a bang and at first you thought it was just another clap of thunder, but on Luna’s side you heard whimpering. Her voice was hushed as she reassured someone that it was going to be okay. “I know, but I wouldn’t be calling unless I thought it was important.”

It was insane to be going outside during the storm. Glancing out your window, it was obvious that it wasn’t letting up anytime soon. The best thing to do was to just stay inside where it was safe. That was the sane idea.

“I’m leaving now,” you said instead. Throwing the blankets off, you hurried to your closet to throw on some warm clothes as Luna informed someone, most likely the hybrid, that you were coming.

Time was on the line so you hurried to dress in the jeans and sweater that was thrown over the chair in the bedroom. Despite the lack of information you were given about this hybrid, you nabbed some towels and two umbrellas. In a matter of a few minutes your rain jacket was even thrown on.

“This is absolutely insane,” you muttered, rushing back to your room for the purse that you forgot contained your car keys and everything else. But even as you thought that, you tied the bag that you had stuffed the towels in so they wouldn’t get wet, and after throwing up the hood on the jacket, hurried out to the car.

You didn’t live in the center of town and with the storm still going wild, you were forced to go slower than usual, but it gave you plenty of time to think. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Luna to call you during the middle of the night, sometimes when it was extremely important you would wake up to her banging on the front door until you answered. Out of everyone she knew, you were the only person who would answer her calls, even if it was at a time like this. When she did give you a heads up though, you were sure to have coffee or tea on the stove by the time she arrived.

It wasn’t unusual for her conversations to turn to her place of work, but this was the first time that she called you to let a hybrid stay at your place. Shaking your head, you increased the speed of the windshield wipers and glanced at the tall pine trees, hoping that the lightning wouldn’t hit any of them. Luna would explain once you got there.

When you entered the Homeless Center for Hybrids, you didn’t see Luna anywhere. Instead, various of Hybrids filled the building as the staff ran around. It didn’t take a genius to realize that this was a result of the storm, which wasn’t unusual and typically everyone was prepared for times like this, but never before had you seen it this wild.

Cots were everywhere in the building, and not just in the large open rooms they typically had set up for Hybrids to sleep in. The waiting room and hallways had cots lined up everywhere with names written on makeshift signs to show that they were taken.

Nobody spared you a second glance as you tried to find the office. Hybrids who were soaking wet with towels draped around the shoulders and dry clothes in their hands were heading to the locker room to change, and staff workers were rushing around with arms laden with various supplies and Hybrids in tow.

“Hey!”

Spinning around, you spotted Luna standing in the middle of the room, a stack of blankets in her arms as she waved to catch your attention. You raised your hand and gave a little wave, watching as she made her way to you, passing out blankets to Hybrids she passed along the way.

“Thank you so much for doing this,” Luna greeted you, a tired smile appearing on her face when she finally reached you.

Nodding, you looked around when the sound of a baby crying filled the room. “So, where’s this hybrid?” You asked, looking at her.

Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail and the shoulders of her shirt were wet. Despite how early in the morning it was, Luna was wide awake. “He’s in the office. All the noise and smells were overwhelming him.” Gesturing for her to follow you, she led you through a hallway passing Hybrids who glanced up from making their cots. “That’s why I called you. You live away from the center of town, which is perfect for him, and it’s quiet so he’ll be able to relax.”

“What kind of hybrid is he?”

Luna glanced over shoulder, slowing as you stopped in front of the office. “He’s a wolf Hybrid.” She didn’t give you a chance to answer before softly knocking on the door a second before poking her head in. “Hey there, is it alright if we come in?”

You didn’t hear a reply, but apparently it was okay because Luna was walking into the office, holding the door open for you. The office was small, with only one desk in the corner with a computer on it, a row of file cabinets labeled A-Z, a mini fridge in the other corner, and along the wall to the left of the door was a green couch.

He was sitting on the couch, silently watching as you carefully closed the door behind you.

“Namjoon, I want you to meet my friend. You’re going to be staying with her for a while.” Luna smiled as she introduced you, not minding how quiet Namjoon was.

Softly smiling at Namjoon, you waved as you stood next to Luna. He didn’t say anything else, simply glancing at you before his eyes focused on the bag in your hands. “Oh,” you said, opening it. “I wasn’t sure if you had been caught in the storm or not, so I brought towels.”

When you looked up however, the words died out. Namjoon had raised an eyebrow and looked down at himself, more specifically, his clothes. His jeans had dirt stains on them and his once white sneakers were grey. His white t-shirt was in the same state as his jeans with the addition of a few holes in odd places, and the leather jacket was well worn out. But he was completely dry.

“Namjoon came here a few days ago,” Luna answered. “But with this storm, it’s been so chaotic and loud…”

You nodded in understanding, glancing at Namjoon’s Hybrid ears. They were twitching and flickering back towards the hallways. The door only muffled everyone’s voices. You could only imagine that if it was loud for you, it had to be painful for him.

“Alright,” you breathed out, gaining the attention of Namjoon. “If you want to stay with me at my place, I think we should leave soon. I don’t know how it was here, but the lightning was bad up by my place, and I really don’t want to get halfway home and find a bunch of trees knocked down.”

Luna settled a hand on her hip, smiling at Namjoon like his silence wasn’t unusual. “Like I told you earlier Namjoon, I wouldn’t have suggested staying with her unless I one hundred percent knew you’d be safe. I trust this girl with my life.”

Rolling your eyes at her joke, you ended up grinning anyways. “You’re just saying that because I make you stuff.”

“Don’t you try and steal my thunder here.”

You giggled, but when you looked back at Namjoon, you were startled to see that he was already staring at you. It was a little odd, but you mentally shook it off. He came to the Homeless Center for Hybrids, and from the lack of a collar around his neck, anything could have happened to make him suspicious of humans.

“Namjoon, do you, want to come with me?” You gave him an encouraging smile, hoping that it would help him to feel more comfortable around you. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, but you’re more than welcomed to come home with me.”

The spot between his eyebrows crinkled as he frowned, his lips parting for a second before he pressed them together. He looked back at Luna, who gave him an encouraging nod.

“We’re not going to make you do anything you don’t want to,” Luna softly answered. “Here, Hybrids have free will. You, get to make the decisions for yourself Namjoon. Not me. Not my supervisor or boss, and not my crafty friend here. It’s up to you.”

It hurt to hear Luna explain that, but it was common around here. Hybrids came in from all different backgrounds either finding their way here on their own, or were abandoned by owners who no longer cared or loved them. When it was cases like that, the road to moving on and trusting another human took a long time.

With the two of you watching Namjoon, it didn’t go unnoticed when he stood up with a nod. There was a rip in the green fabric of his backpack, but he slipped it on his shoulder and focused on you, waiting for you to lead the way.

Opening the bag, you handed him an umbrella as you zipped up your jacket. “I parked as close as I could, but it’s raining like cats and dogs out there.”

He didn’t say anything, his face remaining neutral and unwavering, but his hands were gentle as he accepted the umbrella. For a brief moment, his eyes softened when his fingers brushed against yours, only to become guarded once you took your hand back.

“Well then,” you said, unaware of how that touch had affected him. “Let’s go home Namjoon.”

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joaquinwhorres · 4 years ago

Text

shots (Diego Hargreeves x Reader)

SUMMARY ››››› Dating is hard. But it's even harder when you know you're dating the wrong people. The right guy just isn't interested.

REQUEST ››››› ANNA HI HELLO FRIEND. okay, you're taking requests? i'm gonna SCREAM but okay could you do number 45 and diego, please? also i'm gonna look at the thing you sent me last night right now (45. Rubbing the back of their hand with a thumb.)

WORD COUNT ››››› 3,016

WARNINGS ››››› takes place partially at a shooting range

A/N ››››› I wrote this as a continuation of alone together, but it can really be read as a standalone. I just loved the reader + Diego's dynamic, so here's more.

You've been into Diego Hargreeves since your police academy days, which is to say, a nearly obscene amount of time. It's hard to pinpoint exactly how long it's been, though, because as with most things, falling for him was a rather fluid process. One minute you were reveling in the fact that you were suddenly single for the first time in three and a half years. The next, you were hanging off every word in his tirade about saving teargas for bad guys rather than protestors. And yet, it also felt so sudden. As if he had come out of nowhere and clotheslined you the way he did one of the instructors in restraint training.

And while it's hard to say when you fell for him, why is entirely too easy. You liked him because he wasn't afraid. He was stupid and brash, but he was bold and honest when it mattered. But more than that, you liked how he cared so deeply and passionately about doing the right thing rather than doing things the right way. Even when it cost him.

Also, his forearms.

You’re watching them now, muscles rippling under his tight long sleeved shirt as he raises the gun, his gaze intensely focused on the target. You hope he doesn’t see you staring in his periphery because it’s pretty obvious you’re not just checking his form. There's a breath and then he fires five rounds into the piece of paper, every shot precise and lethal.

“That’s how it’s done, baby,” he grins, laying the gun down as he steps back to direct his excitement at you. As if he'd ever done anything less than absolutely perfect at the range. Still, you can’t help but smile back even as you roll your eyes. You love it when he calls you baby. Even though he only ever says it to tease you, it still feels like it's your nickname that he has for you.

Yeah. You’ve got it bad.

Which is unfortunate because he simply doesn't. He's never so much as shown a single bit of interest besides the first day he met you, and let his eyes linger on your body a little too long. But after that? Nothing. It soon became clear that he only had eyes for Eudora, and while it was tempting to be jealous it was all too understandable. She was gorgeous and smart and kind and obviously going to make a damn good cop. But even after that imploded, he never seemed interested. You'd come to the conclusion that you were simply too close, which was unfortunate but also fine.

It would be fine.

You just need to follow your friends’ advice and find someone new to focus on. And not just flings. You've tried the "get over by getting under" method and it just doesn't work. You need romance, a good personality, someone you want to see again outside of the bedroom. What you need is a boyfriend. Instead you've gotten:

Ghosted more times than you can count

Four no-shows for dates

One catfish

Five break up texts

Seven dick pics

Six angry men calling you a whore

Three dates that were meant for other people

The most recent of the “oops I texted the wrong girl” dates had been a week ago, and you suspect it's also the reason Diego dragged you out to the shooting range today. Diego doesn't talk about feelings--you learned that real quick--but he is more empathetic than he looks. He just doesn't know how to translate that into words. Thus, shooting range. It's sweet.

Except for the fact that he's an insufferable show off. That makes it a bit less sweet.

“Yeah, yeah, cheater,” you huff, moving forward to take his spot at the firing line. Obviously you can't tell if he cheated, but his arms had looked a bit too low for one of those shots to be as perfect as it was. You pick up the gun, waiting for his instructions, eyeing the target.

"Head right 7, body right 9, body bullseye, head bottom 9, body bottom 8," he decides. Of course he gave you more body than head shots.

It's tempting to insist that he keeps up the pretense that this is an even and fair competition and give you another head shot. But your time is running out, and who are you kidding--you'd like the win. So, you nod to confirm his choices before lifting the gun up and taking a breath in to clear your head of all else, the constant rejection, the unrequited crush, the stress at work, so you can focus. And then, you breathe out.

Your shots aren’t as pretty as Diego’s, but they all hit their marks.

“Not bad,” he says as you place down the gun and then spin around to grin at him.

“Not bad?” you echo back, gesturing to the target. “That’s the best all day.”

“That's the best you got all day,” he corrects, smugly. “Not the best.”

The smile vanishes from your face, replaced with narrowed eyes. "You're a dick."

He laughs then as you double check the chamber to make sure the gun's unloaded and ready to be packed up. "A huge dick," you clarify, placing the firearm in its case and turning to follow him out.

"Better than a small one," he shoots back, removing his headphones once the two of you enter the lobby.

If it weren't for range safety and all that, you'd kick him in the back of the knees. Instead, you settle on glaring at the back of his head as he checks the two of you out, stuffing your safety glasses and headphones into your bag.

"I really hate you, you know that right?" you ask as the two of you push through the door and out into the parking lot.

"Not sure I'd say that if I was the person who needs a ride home," Diego smirks at you over his shoulder as the two of you reach his car.

"Like there's even going to be room for me in the car anymore now that your head's so big," you say, reaching over to flick him on the side of the head. Before he has a chance to respond you speed walk to the passenger's seat and get in before he can lock you out.

"You're lucky I like you," Diego says, pointing a finger at you before he climbs in, sticks the keys in the ignition and shifts into reverse. You take your cell phone out of your pocket as he pulls out of the parking spot, hand resting on the back of your chair so he can look over his shoulder. You feel your cheeks grow hot and are thankful that his eyes are on the road and yours are on your phone screen.

There are approximately 16 unread messages.

None of them are good.

In fact, you're feeling pretty crushed as you scroll through them. It doesn't help when Diego withdraws his arm to shift the car into drive. He pulls out of the parking lot and onto the main road, and you try to pull yourself together but end up just wilting into your seat. It's not your friends' fault. Yesenia's babysitter fell through. Galilea was caught up with more work than she anticipated. Lilly probably really did need the extra time to study for her actuarial exam. These were all reasonable excuses. But it still sucked.

"What's up?" Diego asks as you slow to a stop at the red light.

"Nothing," you say absent mindedly, texting out a message to the group. Life happens 🙃How about next Saturday??

Diego's eyes dart to you before going back to the road as the light turns green. "Y/N," he prompts.

You turn off your screen and cast a look at him. "It's really nothing; my friends just cancelled on me tonight." He remains quiet and you try to push out the growing frustration that you've been planning this for a solid week and it's only now, hours before, that all of these conflicts pop up. "We were supposed to go out," you sigh. "You know, do drinks and dancing."

He's silent again, only the sound of the turn signal clicking echoing throughout the car. "Alright, so what time tonight?" Diego finally asks, pulling you from your thoughts.

It takes longer than it should to piece together what he's offering, but the thought of Diego taking you dancing is just too much on so many levels. The most immediate level being how absolutely hilarious it would be to see Diego dance. The thought alone elicits a surprised laugh.

"What's so funny?" Diego asks, his brow furrowing. It's clear he wants to glare at you but the car ahead moves, and he takes his chance to make the left turn.

"You want to go dancing?" You ask, through giggles.

"And?" He sounds offended, but you're still trying to picture Diego on the dance floor and every resulting image is sending you into further hysterics. He catches on, eventually. "You don't think I can dance!"

"Mm-mm," you hum, shaking your head, and there's literally tears coming down from your eyes as you picture Diego doing the Hitch dance at the club. God, he always knew how to pull you out of your spirals.

His face screws up into a frown, and you can vaguely tell he's annoyed. Unfortunately, you don't care. "I'm a great dancer!" he protests, turning onto your street.

"Ok, ok," you say, finally calming down enough to stop laughing and wipe away the tears from your eyes. "Meet here at 9 and we'll decide on a place?" you ask as he pulls into a spot near your building.

He nods, still clearly annoyed, but he's a good friend, better than most, and doesn't rescind his offer. In return you give him a beaming smile as you climb out the door. Almost immediately you turn around and tap on the window. He raises an eyebrow and rolls it down.

"Yes?"

"You know you're not allowed to wear that, right?" You check, pointing at his black on black tactical uniform. He looks as if he's a real life Batman. Right now he's giving you the Batman glower. "I'm serious, Diego. Go shopping if you have to."

"Bye, Y/N," he says, pulling away from you without even bothering to roll the window up. You smile to yourself and walk to your building's front door. You cannot wait for tonight.

Diego knocks on your door a few minutes after nine. It's tempting to give him a hard time about being late, to tell him that you thought yet another friend had abandoned you in your hour of need, but seeing as he had to rearrange whatever plans he had in order to take you out dancing, you decide to let him off the hook.

You're kind of glad that you didn't come up with a witty line for when you opened the door because holy shit, he’s handsome.

In a way, he's stuck to the usual uniform. It's black on black, and he clearly has put no effort into his hair or shaving the stubble lining his jaw, but he's missing the usual tactical harness, armguards, and gloves. Instead, his arms are on full display, and while you're able to admire his muscles under his usual tight black shirt, it's nothing compared to what that short sleeved button up is doing for him. He looks broader, fuller, and more human than you've ever seen him.

"Look at you, all cleaned up," you say, allowing your eyes to run over his body under the pretense that you're teasing him. "Do a twirl for me," you demand, spinning your finger. He rolls his eyes, but slowly spins in a circle so you can admire each angle. "It'll do," you say, allowing him into the apartment.

"Glad I meet the standard," he says, coming in further. You're still staring at him and are able to see the exact moment his eyes land on the two shot glasses and bottle of tequila that you've placed out on your kitchen island. His eyes light up and naturally, he makes a bee line for the booze. Even more naturally, you follow him.

"We're gonna have a good time, then?" he asks, eyeing the tequila.

"Oh yeah," you confirm, grabbing the shaker of salt from the table on your way into the kitchen. Diego pours out a shot for each of you, sloshing a bit on the counter as you salt your hand. When you pass the salt over to him, your fingers brush causing a warm and tingling sensation to stir in your stomach. You probably shouldn't have already taken a couple of sips from the bottle. Maybe if you hadn't, you wouldn't be watching him so intently as he licks his hand. You're able to tear your eyes away to grab a lime and place one in front of him as he finishes.

"To a good time," Diego says, raising his glass to yours. You clink your shot glass against his before swiping the salt off your hand with your tongue, following it with the silver tequila burning its way down your throat. Placing the glass down, you grab the wedge of lime and bite into it, allowing the lime juice to ease the sweeten the sting.

"Mm," you hum, taking the lime out of your mouth and placing it on the opposite edge of the cutting board from the rest of the lime slices. Diego places his wedge over yours and looks at you.

"Another?” he asks, and well, you can’t let the rest of the lime go to waste. Besides, even well drinks are expensive these days.

After your second shot, Diego moves to clean up the island as you watch. “Taxi should be here at 9:30.”

“You decide on a place yet?” he asks, and you hum a yes, eyes on him as he places the bottle of tequila up with the rest of your alcohol. It's easy to blame the tequila, but you're not sure if that's 100% why you feel the surge of almost overwhelming tenderness for him.

"Hey, Diego?" your voice comes out a bit smaller than you'd like, and he notices too because he turns to face you immediately, eyebrows raised. "Thanks for coming out tonight."

He relaxes, shoulders dropping slightly, and his smile which always looks like it's caught between being a smirk and a genuine grin comes out. "We're supposed to be alone together, right?"

"Right," you agree, and you're certain he'll see your affection glowing off you like some kind of aura. Except he turns quickly back to dump the cutting board and knife into the sink.

"How's all that going by the way?" he asks, still bent over the sink. He has to mean dating. Or maybe your feelings. You're proficient in Diego-speak but you're not sure if you'll ever be fully fluent. He's hard to read his words; it's much easier to read his face.

"I think I meant what I told you," you say with a sigh. "I think I'm done with all that."

He turns around to face you then, and you can see the concern and sadness on his face. Sympathy is a rare emotion for Diego, and you don't like how it makes you feel. "Look, if you want to find someone, you can't give up."

"It's just hard to put myself out there when I know none of them are right," you say, frustration and an aching loneliness fizzing under your skin. "You know? None of them are you." The words come out too fast to stop, and it takes less than a breath to reach you could grab them out of the air. Your face is growing hot, but you push it back down and quickly try to remedy the situation, “I mean none of them are like you.”

He seems a bit frozen as well, assessing, and you wish to God that you had another shot of tequila right now to take your attention off of the way his brow creases slightly and mouth turns down. “You don’t want me,” he says finally with a shake of his head.

You do.

You really do.

“What’s wrong with you?” you ask, not liking his tone or the way he's still frowning slightly and can't meet your eyes.

He shakes his head again but steps forward to stand across the island from you. “I’m not going to psychoanalyze myself, but I gotta lotta shit. I don’t know if you could put up with two of us. And I'm not letting you throw me away for some guy who came after.”

You sit there quietly, taking in his words and trying to hear what he was saying. What he was really saying underneath and you don't like any of the deductions you're able to come up with. “Y/N?” he asks, tilting his head slightly, and you know you've been quiet too long right after he's been as vulnerable as he can be.

“You know I don’t consider it putting up with you, Diego, right?” You ask, quietly. It’s important he knows. He has to know at least that.

He gives an attempt at a smirk, but it doesn't make it to his eyes. “What else would you call dealing with my bullshit?”

You reach out to him, wiggling your fingers in an insistence that he take your hand. It takes a second, and some aggressive eye contact for him to take your hand, but when he does, you fold your hand over his, smoothing over the knuckles with your thumb. There’s scars there. Probably from his childhood. Or last week. “I’d call it returning the favor.”

He snorts but doesn't take his hand away. Instead he squeezes your hand, and you know he'll never tell you that he loves you, but this feels pretty close. You squeeze his hand back.

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