#could have just left it behind the potted plant or behind the bin

[mycological-mariner]

I’m extremely impressed by the postman. The mail a lot is really tricky and hates being opened, most people just give up halfway through leasing to hundreds of folded letters. But this guy? He took one look at it, took a look at my package (The Surgeon’s Mate) and just went for it. When I came down to collect the mail this guy managed to get the book not just through the slot but 5 feet from the inside of my door.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 3: Please Remember to Take Your Happy Pills

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary:  When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you never expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team.  (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy.

Word Count: 6.1K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, sexual tension. Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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Despite your insistences for Ben to just go away, he walked with you to “Please Don’t Die,” the plant shop that you’d been working at since you moved to New York, all the while complaining about the fact that you didn’t have a car.

You wondered if he'd ever had friends that didn't have as much money as he did or if he just lived in the asshole rich dude bubble.

You never hated walking. Something about walking through Central Park invigorated you, being surrounded by all the plants made you feel grounded  and more in the moment. It made you feel alive. Not to mention you liked walking past all the flower shops and perking up the bouquets of flowers wrapped in plastic and placed in black bins as you walked. And even though you were late, you figured that you always had time to use your powers just to make everything a little bit greener.

Maybe it was cliché, but you hated seeing dead plants and dead flowers. Whenever you went home you always spent time in your grandmother's garden making sure that everything was growing as it should and even the plants in your home never seemed to wilt.

Which probably meant that you were working in the right place.

The shop you work at is the same as it’s always been. Outside the brick was painted a cheerful white, with black trim that frames the large glass windows and a black glass door the proclaims the name of the shop in strong block letters. Each window display was changed every other day and were both currently crowded with multicolored plants that stretched towards the warm sunlight on the street while the glass skull planters your boss, Jake, had placed artfully inside glittered black.

When you open the door, the smell of soil, earth, and water greet you, wafting out to envelop your body in a layer of comfort.

You feel your body physically relax as you step over the threshold. The thrum of your abilities reaching out, flowing through the branches, stems, and leaves of the plants, soaking through your bones to connect you to them. You could feel every twig, every small push of roots in the soil, every unfurling of new leaves from each plant in the shop. It was impossible to see beyond the rows and displays of potted plants that trailed languidly on the clean concrete floors. Wooden shelves were bolted to the walls covered in layers of green foliage so dense you couldn’t see the red brick behind. Displays of bouquets sprouted dark purple, deep red, vivid blue,  and warm orange, sat wrapped in plastic and ready to be purchased on the left wall, next to coolers filled with even larger bouquets in ornate glass vases.

Herbs crowded the front of the register at the back of the room, sending the sharp scent of mint, the spicy scent of chives, and the soothing smell of rosemary into the air. Vines wove above your head hanging from the ceiling to cover the plastic squares that lined the roof making it seem as if you had entered under the dark canopy in the jungle. The rest of the shop was hidden behind rows and rows of potted plants, on long wooden shelves and tall potted plants that reached up to the ceiling, giving the illusion that as soon as you entered the shop, it was like you entered another world, cut off from the rest of New York.

It honestly felt like home, felt just like your apartment as you stood there in the humid air, the sound of the misters turning on and off echoing the deeper you went into the store.

Plants were easier than people. You learned that early on.

It didn’t matter where you were, plants always called out to you, from the smallest seedling to the mightiest oak, you were connected with them. When you were away from them it was almost painful. As a kid whenever your parents took you on a plane, you had to carry seed packets in your pockets, nursing small seedlings as you left the earth behind and took to the sky. When Annie had a weekend off from her patrol back home, she had suggested that the two of you go on a cruise. Neither of you had seen the ocean and it had seemed like a good idea up until you stepped foot on the ship.

At first you thought that you were seasick, the dizziness and the puking that followed seemed to be due to the boat rocking back and forth, but the only way you were able to get out of bed and avoid puking your guts out was when Annie brought you some grapes from the buffet and you covered your entire cabin in grape vines to make you feel better. And the rest of the trip you had woven vines in your hair to stay just a little more grounded to the world you left behind when you stepped foot on the ship.

“Y/n is that you?” You hear your boss, Jake, call from somewhere inside.

“Yeah I’m sorry I’m late!” You shout back. He was still hidden by the dense displays of plants that stood like silent watchmen just at the front of the shop.

“It’s fine.” He replies.

You turn to glare at Ben. “You can go now.”

He’s not paying attention to you, he’s surveying the room, surprised by how green it is.

He’s going to have to get used to that if he’s going to force himself into my life.

Jake pushes through the wall of plants in front of you, holding a giant Monstera in a gallon bucket. The leaves were easily as big as your head and you’re surprised that Jake can move it, given that he wasn't a supe. He stumbles slightly under the weight and you rush forward to take it from him.

But just as you take it from Jake, your own super strength buckling slightly under the weight, Ben pulls it from your arms and holds it in one hand. You were only slightly stronger than the average person, enough to hold your own, but not enough to lift a car over your head.

“Where do you want it?” He says looking from you to Jake.

Jake is… Jake. He’s taller than you, with sandy blonde hair that curls slightly behind his ears and hangs long and shaggy on top of his head. His bright blue eyes are hidden behind tortoiseshell glasses. Today he’s wearing his usual flannel pushed up to his elbows that reveals tanned, freckled, and muscular arms, not as muscular as Ben, but enough to notice, and a pair of blue jeans.

They were his favorite pair, worn in just right at the knees. You gathered that by how often he wore them. Not to mention you appreciated how he filled them out.

In the way that Ben was tall, dark, and handsome, Jake was tall, bright, and beautiful. He always smiled when he saw you, always tried his hardest to make you laugh on a day that never seemed to end, and he always seemed to have the best advice when everything seemed hopeless. He was a good friend. A good friend that you had kept separate from the supe world. He didn’t know what you could do and you wanted to keep it that way at least for now.

Your record with non-supe friends was dismal and you didn't want to ruin your friendship with him.

“Whoa um-" Jake clears his throat. "Just over by the calatheas.” Jake's eyes widen seeing how easily Ben holds the gallon sized barrel in one hand, hefting the monstera easily.

“The what?” Ben frowns rudely.

“The striped plants over there.” You point at the collection of lemon lime prayer plants that sit prettily on a circular wooden table in one of the front displays.

Ben walks away still toting the monstera like it weighs nothing in his right hand.

“Do you know him?” Jake watches Ben curiously.

“Unfortunately.” You frown, but shake it off when you look at Jake. It was easy to smile at him. “How are you?”

“Good. Got here early. The shipment of Christmas cactus came in. Needed to start breaking down one of the displays to find a place to put them.” Jake returns your smile. “You doin' okay? You look a little frazzled.” His southern twang slips into his honeyed voice.

Jake like you, wasn’t from the city, he was from the south and moved to New York to go to get a degree in environmental law, but when he got certified he opened “Please Don’t Die” and the rest was history.

You glance over at Ben who is now walking back towards the two of you, still frowning. “I didn’t have my coffee today.” It was the truth, but you didn't want to say that the reason why you looked so 'frazzled' was that you were spending time with the bane of your existence.

“I figured. Which is why I grabbed you one. It’s on the register.” Jake nods back in the direction of the antique bar top turned desk where a cup of coffee sits slightly steaming in the humid air.

“You’re officially the best part about today.”

“That’s what I say about you every day.” He winks making you flush. “Oh wait you’ve got an eyelash.”

Ben stiffens beside you as Jake steps forward into your space and gently brushes his index finger under your right cheek. Pins and needles trace behind the movement and you can feel your heartbeat stutter. “There you go.” Jake wipes his hand on his flannel.

Ben huffs and mutters something under his breath that you don’t catch.

Jake looks up at him, because Ben was about three inches taller. “Hey I’m Jake.” He extends his hand towards Ben.

Ben eyes it. “Ben.” He grunts not taking Jake's hand and deepening his frown.

Jake's smile falters a little.

“Please ignore Gramps, he forgot to take his happy pills this morning.” You nudge Ben with your elbow. "Be nice." You whisper low enough for only Ben to hear.

“I think he took them for me sweetheart.” Ben mutters back. "It's nice to meet you." Ben says tightly, in a way that doesn't seem like it's nice to meet Jake at all.

“Gramps?” Jake looks confused as he retracts his hand.

“Nickname for sunshine.” You gesture with your thumb to where Ben glowers at the mention of the nickname. “But he was just leaving.”

“Oh. Well if you need me I’m going to be over by the hydrangeas. Do you think you can start working on the plants in the back? They need a little TLC.” Jake rubs the back of his neck. "I know you're better at that kind of thing."

“Of course. It’s what I’m here for.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you darlin'.” Jake laughs and walks off towards the blue and pink flowering plants in sleek silver pots towards the door.

Ben eyes your boss up and down, watching how he turns away from the two of you but stays within earshot. “He wants to fuck you.” Ben says a little too loudly.

“What?” You whisper yell, dragging Ben away into the dense foliage on the other side of the shop. “Shut up he can hear you! And we’re just friends.”

“You’ve never heard about friends fucking? I mean if you and I started to-"

“Not going to happen. And we’re not friends!” You frown at him.

“I mean, I am living with you.” Ben crosses his hands over his chest and shrugs.

“You’re not living with me. How many times do I have to say that?” 

“As many times as you want. I love the sound of your voice. I bet you could say some pretty kinky-“

Your eyes shift to a dangerous bright green, the entire room vibrating with energy as the plants begin to bend to your will.

“I know you think that using your powers is supposed to scare me, but I think it’s sexy when you do that.” Ben smirks. “Your eyes turn that gorgeous shade of green.”

“Please go away.”

“Fine. But he does want to fuck you.”  Ben smirks. He cocks his head to the side examining you for a moment. "You want him to, don’t you Petals?”

"No I don't!”

I mean I could do a lot worse than Jake.

He was exactly what you were looking for. Someone sweet, who  understood what love was, and actually cared for other people. He was smart and funny, and he loved plants almost as much as you did. He understood how important they were and how to take care of them. Not to mention he actually had feelings and knew how to express them, unlike the toddler standing in front of you.

You grab on to Ben’s arm and drag him further into the shop away from your boss to make sure that you’re no longer within earshot. “Contrary to whatever belief you have, not everyone is focused on sex all the time-“

“They are.”

“No they’re not. There are other things-“

“Like what?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Um.”

You honestly couldn’t think when Ben was standing so close to you, towering over you, staring at you with those bright green eyes that always seemed to consume you. Your eyes slide to a cork board filled with seed packets on the wall above his head.

 “Like watermelon and blueberries and-“ You begin to say, reading the names.

“You’re just listing fruit sweetheart.” Ben chuckles under his breath. “You know what I think?”

“No and I don’t care.”

“I think you think about having sex with me.”

“What?” You shout louder than you should

“Mhmm." Ben traces his hand along your cheek, but you swat it away. "This morning you were awfully red when you bumped into me in the hallway. Not to mention in the kitchen when you were against the counter. Your heart was beating so fast. And I could practically smell how w-“

“Finish that sentence and lose your tongue.” You snarl grabbing the front of his shirt tightly in your hand.

“Doll I don’t think you want to rip my tongue out. Not with what I could do to you with it.”

You groan and withdraw your hand, fighting the urge to punch him. “Can you please leave? Don’t you have anyone else to sexually harass? Like Hughie maybe?”

“Hughie’s a guy?” Ben looks confused at your mention of Annie’s boyfriend.

“So? I kinda think you’re overcompensating for something by sleeping with that many women.”

Ben only laughs. "If you slept with me I'm sure that you'd see what all the fuss is about." He looks over through the walls of green leaves to where Jake is standing, watering a display of hydrangeas. Every few moments Jake would look over in your direction over his shoulder as if to check if you were okay. “How long have you worked here?”

"What does that have to do with anything?" You cross your arms over your chest confused.

Why does he care about that?

"Just answer the question doll-face."

"Two years."

"And you've liked him this whole time?" He cocks his eyebrow.

"No."

"You're worse than Mike doll."

"I am not."

"Mhmm."

"And I don't want him to sleep with me."

"Sure."

"Again, not everyone is focused on sex. And maybe you think that's the most important thing, but I'd rather have a relationship with someone." You turn to busy yourself with straightening the seed packets on the cork board, wishing that you weren't about to have this conversation with Soldier Boy of all people.

"So no sex?" Ben taunts.

You bite the inside of your cheek, transferring a packet of potato seeds back to the correct peg and reach for a packet of watermelon seeds to avoid eye contact.

I can't believe that I'm about to say this.

"I think that sex is better when you have a deep emotional connection with someone.  Someone who cares about you, who sees every part of you, even the bad things and they don't care. I wouldn't expect you to give a fuck about any of that."

"I don't." He breezes and you can imagine just how carefree he looks. You could feel his breath on your neck reminding you of your position earlier today.

"Exactly." You roll your eyes. But deep down you couldn't help but feel a little disappointed with his confession and you hated that you were disappointed.

What? Did you think that he was going to change? That he was going to suddenly be the kind of guy you wanted after he practically forced his way onto your couch?

“You’re serious about him though? Looks like the kind of guy who would cry when he fucks you. You really want him instead of me?” Ben leans into the space next to you, trying to catch your eye, which you successfully avoid. "I mean, come on Petals, he's not even a supe."

"What?"

"He's-not-a-supe." Ben says it again, slowly like you're an idiot.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Oh please, you think that guy is the one? The one you've been waiting for? I've seen you in a fight and there's no way he could handle you. He couldn't even carry that fucking plant! If he tried to fuck you, you'd snap him in half."

Your cheeks flare an angry red that creeps back into your neck, and up your ears. "That is none of your business."

"It would be if you'd just let me fuck you. Show you what you've been missing." He cocks an eyebrow.

You fight the urge to slap the look off his face. “I can’t do this with you right now. I haven’t had my coffee.”

"He brought you some." Ben sing-songs, but you ignore him. "Fine. I’ve got to go anyway. Butcher wants me to meet him at some park in fucking Jersey.”

“You need me to write it down for you? Using your newfangled doohickey probably might be too much huh?” You turn and shake your phone for emphasis at him.

Ben rolls his eyes. “I think I’m capable of finding it.” He turns to go but stops glancing over his shoulder at you. “Are you gonna be at the apartment tonight?”

“What apartment? My apartment? The apartment that you're squatting in like a hobo?"

“No Butcher’s.” Ben glowers.

“I mean maybe?” You shrug. “I’ve still got to make a list of auto shops to visit this week. Butcher wants me to try to go to at least a dozen to see if I can get any leads on this guy.”

Ben nods once.

“Why?”

Why does he care?

“No reason. I’ll see you later Petals.” Ben smirks when he uses the nickname again, before turns once more and vanishes into the foliage that leads to the front of the shop. It was very difficult not to make the closet branch smack him in the back of the head as he did so. You hated that nickname about as much as he hated Gramps, but you knew that asking him not to call you that wouldn't do any good.

You make your way to the register at the back of the shop, feeling like you could finally breathe again. You hated how Ben wound you up so much, how angry and annoyed he made you. You hadn't met anyone else in your life that could do that to you and you liked to think that you were an easy going person, but not around him. He always knew exactly how to push all your buttons.

The memory of him pinning you to the counter earlier surfaces from the events of the morning, how his body seemed so strong above you, how he seemed to curve it protectively around you as he stood there waiting for you to tell him that it was okay for him to take the next step. The kiss from last night follows, how wonderful it was to lose yourself in him, how he tasted just a little bit like whiskey-

The hibiscus plant to the right of the register poofs into bloom, the bright red flowers unfurling and shining like beacons.

Shit. No. Get it together. Ben literally just said that he didn't think that emotions were important.

You glare at the plant until the flowers wilt back into submission, hoping that Jake couldn't see from where he was watering the hydrangeas.

That's the last conversation that you wanted to have today with your boss.

The coffee he got you is just how you like it and you’re reminded again that you deserve a relationship like that. Someone who remembers the little things, someone who cared about you, someone who was willing to hold your hair back when you threw up, not someone who annoyed you without end and the only emotions he ever expressed was anger or arousal.

“Your friend leave?” Jake asks. His clothes were flecked with water, hands just a little dirty, hair tousled just the right way to make him look like he'd just woken up.

It hit you again how different he was than Ben. Where Ben was ruggedly handsome, Jake was boyishly handsome and he had a younger less angry quality that made him seem lighter. You supposed that was because Ben had spent the last forty years in a Russian lab, but sometimes you liked that about him, not that he had been tortured obviously, but that he seemed real. He didn’t sugar coat things, he told it to you straight. Sometimes Jake was too happy.

No no no. I am not going to compare Ben to Jake, that's not going to happen.

“He’s not really my friend. He’s more of an annoyance.” You smile tightly, flicking your thumb against the cardboard coffee collar on the outside of the cup.

“Oh. I kinda thought he was your boyfriend.”

You spit out the coffee in your mouth. “What?”

“Well the way he was looking at you. And the way you guys were talking." Jake clears his throat embarrassed. "Sorry I didn't mean to assume that."

"It's alright. I'm sorry that he was rude to you. He's rude to everyone honestly."

It was the truth, Ben was always rude to everyone, though you didn't understand why he was rude to Jake. All Jake had done was try to shake his hand.

"How did you meet him?"

"Butcher."

Jake didn't know much about what you did for Butcher, only that you had another job on the side and he was your boss. Butcher had picked you up once from work to go on a case and Jake had caught a glimpse of him and had been confused as to why you knew someone like him.

"Ah." David nods in understanding. "He looks like Butcher's kind of guy."

"Yeah." You take another sip of coffee, shifting from foot to foot. "Thanks again for the coffee. I kinda needed it to deal with him."

"He was bothering you?"

"Only a little." You wave your free hand as if brushing away the thought.

"You should have said something, I could have thrown him out of the shop." Jake grins wide, leaning against the register.

The image of Jake trying to drag Ben out of the store was ridiculous. You doubted that Ben would go willingly, he hated backing down and you suspected that he would rather die than let another man throw him around. And the last thing you wanted to do was have to pull Ben off of Jake.

"It wasn't anything I couldn't handle. He's more bark than bite." You walk around the back of the desk to look at a box of lavender plants. They were in relatively good shape, a few brown spots, but nothing you couldn't fix when David wasn't looking.

"Sure." He is still leaning on the counter watching your fingertips stroke along the purple flowers. "Hey y/n?"

"Mhmm?" You sigh, inhaling the soothing smell.

"Um-" He bites the inside of his cheek. "Never mind. I'm gonna go start the Christmas Cactus display."

"Okay. I'll be in the back if you need me." You shrug, picking up the coffee Jake bought you and walking through the dark curtains that covered the doorway that lead into the back of the shop.

Your thoughts shift to how Ben acted around Jake, how he seemed to be an even bigger jerk, how Ben seemed to hate the idea of you and Jake together, and how Ben kept watching Jake like he wasn't sure about him.

Was he… jealous?

You gently touch the browning leaf of an African violet, feeling the fuzzy outer covering beneath your fingertip.

As if.

And as you stood there gazing at the plants that needed a little extra care, something else began to stir, something that you couldn't put your finger on, something that you felt when you were only around Ben, but you shake it off and clear your mind with the earthy smell of soil and the soft green leaves that needed your care.

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“I can’t believe you let Soldier Boy sleep on your couch!” Annie exclaims before taking a bite of her sesame seed bagel.

The coffee shop was crowded for a Thursday afternoon, and although most came to Calamity Coffee Co for the Rocky Top frozen choco-molten mocha swirl , Annie had settled for a oat milk latte and watched you eat your Rocky Top with a spoon. It was making you feel better after the night you'd had.

 People sat with their laptops along the long table that lined the front windows writing emails or the next Hunger Games, others lounged on the purple velvet sofa and high backed green armchairs by the decorative fire place chatting about a new movie in theaters that you'd seen a commercial for, and a man and a woman sat at the glass topped wrought iron table looking at their phones and not speaking.

I love what romance has come to these days.

“It was a moment of weakness.” You spoon another bite of the chocolatey frozen treat into your mouth still trying to forget exactly what happened last night when Ben kissed you in the hallway.

As if you were going to tell her that.

The rest of your shift at the shop had been uneventful. You fixed up most of the plants in the back and helped Jake make the new displays of cactus in the front while making small talk. He was going to a plant show this weekend and had invited you along, but you had declined, told him you had to work.

You did. Butcher had this crazy idea about sending you to different auto shops around the area where the supe had been jacking cars, to see if anyone knew anything about him.

It was getting harder to track him down, it would be easier if y'all could put a name to the face, but no one had seen him. Not even when he tried to fry you two days ago. He always wore a hoodie and pulled a dark scarf over the bottom of his face.

“So you did sleep with him!” Annie accuses.

“No I didn’t. He just slept on the couch and I slept with my door locked.” You reply, touching the vase of wildflowers in the center of the table to perk up the colorful blooms.

Annie's smile drops. “You thought he would try something?” It was something that she didn't joke about and she had reason not to.

When you found out what the Deep had done to her, she had to hold you back from marching up to Vought tower and implanting a watermelon in the Deep's stomach until he exploded. Something that you'd thought about trying with Ben when he really annoyed you.

“No not really.” You press your lips together. “Ben doesn’t really seem the type-“

“Oh so it’s Ben now.” She flutters her eyelashes and you kick her shin under the table.

“Shut up. It’s his name-“

“You never called him that before! You always just call him Gramps or the Bane of your existence.”

“He is the bane of my existence." You roll your eyes at her, leaning back in your chair. 

He really is.

“Well the bane of your existence is kind of hot. You know for an older guy.” Annie shrugs.

“I can’t believe you’re saying that. You literally were gung ho for locking him away for all eternity or whatever.”

“I mean yeah he’s done some shitty things.” She takes a sip of her almond milk latte. “But it would have been a waste.”

She’s not lying.

You don't answer her, instead your mind shifts to how good Ben looked in a towel this morning, slightly damp from his shower. And then inevitably begins to dip back into the waterfall fantasy.

When Annie had told you that Soldier Boy was back, you had done the research, watched his movies, commercials, and music videos, read his file, and gazed at older pictures of him. Yes he was handsome, but something about the Ben who existed in the 21st century was better looking than all the rest. You didn't know why, just that you were crazy not to admit how good looking he was.

Maybe I've got issues and I'm attracted to the wrong type of man.

“Come on so you locked your door.” Annie nudges your leg under the table.

“Yep.” You avoid her eyes, because you knew as soon as you did you might let it fly that you wanted to sleep with him or rather that he'd kissed you so hard that you'd seen stars and it had only lasted eleven seconds.

Why do I know how long the kiss lasted?

“Why are you making that face?”

“This is my face Annie.”

“No no no. You’re making your suffer in silence face!”

“That’s not a thing.”

“What? Did you lock your door so you wouldn’t go out there?” She jokes with a snort.

You take another sip of your coffee.

“HOLY SHIT Y/N!” Annie's smile is almost too wide, as if she's discovered a new kind of chocolate that you can eat and never gain any weight.

I'd invest in that.

“What?”

“You wanted to sleep with him!”

She shouts it so loud that the people staring at their phones glance over to the two of you. Even a few of the writers on the long table under the window look back over their shoulders at you.

“Keep your voice down." You shush her. "Just because my body wants to doesn’t mean my mind does!”

It does. Who am I kidding?

“Uh-huh sure.”

You slump further in your chair, avoiding the gaze of the couples at the other tables looking at you. “Annie come on. You’ve known me since we were four.  You almost blinded me when I took away your my little pony doll-“

She purses her lips. “I recall you making a tree rain acorns down on my head.”

“It was my doll.”

“It was mine! And I said that I wanted it back. You didn't have to have a tree do a reenactment of the ten plagues garden edition."

You hold up your hands in surrender not wanting to get into this fight again. “Whatever the case. You know me. You know that I always think stuff like this through-“

“Maybe you’re just thinking too much.” She sing songs.

“I can’t believe you’re for this. I’m not going to sleep with him.”

“Why not? You obviously want to.” Annie shrugs. "I mean I guess I'm not his number one fan, but maybe it will help get you out of a slump."

"What slump?"

"You haven't really been with a guy since Newton-" Annie begins to say, referencing your ex-boyfriend that you locked in a tree in high school. Because he deserved it.

"Because I never meet anyone that I'd want to sleep with. And yeah maybe I want to sleep with Ben, but he really just pushes my buttons and makes me crazy and-" You stop for a second considering your next words. “I don’t want that kind of relationship with someone. I want a relationship that means something. And I don’t think that sleeping with him is going to do that for me. He doesn’t want more than one night and I’m worth more and I want more.”

"You are worth more sweetie." Annie's hand covers yours where it rests on the table. "You just need to find someone who understands that."

"The only other single man in my life is Butcher and trust me I'm not going down that road." You bite the inside of your cheek thoughtfully. "I mean he is pretty hot in a rugged sort of way-"

"No." Annie squeezes your hand. "If God put me in your life to prevent you from dating William Fucking Butcher then so be it."

"Fine." You roll your eyes at her.

"And what are you talking about? What about Jake? He's cute and he likes you."

"He does not. We're just friends. And I don't know if I want to drag him into all this supe shit. It's not exactly easy."

Being with Jake will just complicate everything. He's my boss and he's not a supe. What if I accidentally killed him during sex? I don't think that I'd ever be able to get over that.

"Yeah. But maybe he'd be okay with it-"

"Like Newton was okay with it?" You raise an eyebrow, saying the name of your high school boyfriend for the first time since you'd locked him in a tree.

"He was an asshole. Not all non-supes are assholes."

"Just because you struck gold with Hughie does not mean that all non-supes are like that."

"You just have to broaden your horizons a little bit. Maybe you could try online dating."

"What like Tinder?"

"Fuck no." Annie groans. She raises the sesame seed bagel with a perfectly manicured hand to her mouth, reminding you that you probably should get your nails done. You hadn't done them since high school, because sometimes you thought it was a waste of money given how much time you spent with your hands thrust into potting soil.

"Because Ben seems to really  like it. Has no problems working that app, I'll tell you that." You roll your eyes thinking about him again.

It was one of the first apps that he had downloaded on his phone by himself and one that he did not have any trouble navigating, given the parade of women that came through Butcher's apartment and the amount of nights Ben spent going on "dates." For a guy born so long ago, you noticed that he really didn't have any old fashioned values.

"You sure are focused on him."

"I am not." You glance down at your phone noting the time. "And are you going to spend our date mocking me about Ben the whole time?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“If you’re going to fuck him or not.”

“I’m not so let’s move on.” You sigh loudly, moving your hand as if ushering in the next topic.

“Well if things don’t work out with Mr. Blast From The Past, then you can always date Mike.” She sniggers.

“Oh I don’t think he’s going to be a problem-“ It slips before you meant it to.

Shit.

“What do you mean?” Annie perks up when you say that.

“Nothing.”

She punches you hard on the shoulder.

“Ow. Annie-“

“Tell me!” She punches you again.

“What are you the mob? You’re gonna keep punching me til I tell you?”

“Exactly.” Her small fist hits your shoulder one more time.

“Fine!” You avoid her next swing. “Mike came out of his apartment last night when Ben and I got in and Ben he-“ You bite the inside of your cheek to try and phrase it in a way that isn’t going to make Annie freak out.

Yeah there’s really no easy way to say this.

“He pretended to be my boyfriend.”

“He what?” Annie squeals.

“And he kissed me.” You mutter into your drink.

“He kissed you!?”

“Say it a little louder, I don’t think they heard you in Canada.”

She punches your shoulder.

“Ow, Annie! I told you what happened!” You rub your hand over your sore shoulder, which given Annie's enhanced strength was sure to have a bruise.

“That was for not mentioning it earlier! Because What the fuck?! You KISSED!?” You could practically see Annie mentally kicking her feet and giggling.

“Yes.”

“Was it good?!”

You pause. Fuck yeah it was.

You were trying to forget that. Forget how he held you, like you weren’t close enough, forget how he deepened the kiss as if he wanted to swallow you whole, forget how everything else in the world seemed to fade into shades of gray and kissing him was the only thing in color.

Damn it. This isn't going to end well.

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A/N: Honestly thank you for all the love and support on this series. I know it's kinda slow going at the beginning, but I promise I have a plan for this one! :)

As always thank you so much for reading! If you'd liked to be added to the Taglist please let me know :)

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @corruptedcruiser @winchesterwild78 @the-super-who-locked-wizard

@criminalyetminimal @52ndstreeet @bitchykittenconnoisseur @anna6307 @libby99hb

@faephoria @possiblyafangirl @jqtaro @quietlybitchy @tinydancer40

@roger-that-cap @megara0224 @miskwaadesiwag @rainyeggvoidpurse

@soldiergrimes @tiffsbagels @podiumackles

[dfortrafalgar]

Chilly

Convincing Law to take a break for one day is like talking to a concrete wall. Good thing you have the personality of a jackhammer.

Law x Fem Reader

Warnings: fluff fluff and more fluff, snow day, domestic bliss, just fun and fluffy all around, snowball fights with the heart pirates, soft law <3

Also posted on AO3

No one even bothered to ask Law if he wanted to join the crew on land and partake in some relaxing winter activities.  Everyone knew what the answer would be: a stern, pensive stare and a quick, firm, “Absolutely not.”  Especially not when the aforementioned winter weather sprung up completely out of nowhere, while the Polar Tang was moored at an unassuming island tucked away behind a seaside cliff.  It was warm and pleasant the day before, so waking up to a deep blanket of snow on land completely ruined Law’s plans.  Heart Pirate Rule #283 (estimates vary), no one could try to change Law’s mind about an activity when his prior commitments were already ruined.

When Law opened the heavy door to his office and stepped into the hallway, he was met with an unsurprising, deathly silence.  Through one of the small portholes in the hull of the submarine, he could spot a few of his crew engaged in a very intense snowball fight.  The captain’s piercing gold eyes locked onto Uni the second he took a rock-filled snowball directly to the face.  With a ‘tsk’ through his teeth, he made his way to the galley for another cup of coffee.  He assumed the entire ship was empty, and was caught by surprise at the sight of you standing at the wash basin in the kitchen with your hands under a steady stream of warm water from the tap.  You glanced over your shoulder at the sound of Law’s footsteps entering the room.

“Hi, baby!” you called.  Law could barely see your face from the angle you were standing at, but he could hear the bright smile that accompanied your words.  “Enjoying the snow day?”

Law learned early in your relationship that it was futile to fight the content grin that crawled over his lips whenever he heard the sound of your voice.  He meandered over to you, planting a chaste kiss into your hair.  “I think you already know the answer to that.”

It was easy to pick up on the gruff tone of his tired voice.  “I’m sorry, Law.  I know it’s annoying for you when things happen so suddenly.”

Your sympathetic words brought mild relief to the stress filling Law’s aching head.  As he started the electric coffee pot on the nearby countertop, he finally glanced over to see your hands under the sink faucet.  A deep gash in the palm of your left hand was slowly leaking blood as you washed it.  The tips of your fingers looked dry.

“What happened?” he immediately questioned, abandoning his coffee and stepping back toward you.  He grabbed a few paper towels from a drawer, reaching over you to turn off the tap and grabbed your hands in his, gently applying pressure to your wound.

You grinned at his actions, but your eyebrows were knit together apologetically.  “It’s nothing major, I was stupid and went outside without gloves on.  I cut my hand on a rock trying to catch a snowball.”

Law’s medical instincts had completely taken over as he sat you down at the galley dining table, locating one of the many first aid boxes that were located around the submarine before returning to your side, kneeling at your feet and beginning to patch up your wound with antiseptic and a gauze wrap.  “Leave it to those idiots to stuff rocks into snowballs.  That’s how people lose their eyes.”  He blew out an annoyed huff through his nostrils.

Your unoccupied hand reached forward to card your fingers through his tangled black locks of hair.  “It’s stupid, but we’re pirates.  Pirates do stupid things sometimes, don’t you think?”

Your boyfriend’s fingers lingered over your bandaged hand, ghosting across your palm before falling to his sides to pack up the first aid bin and return it to its original location.  “I suppose you have a point.”

Silence fell over the two of you as you watched Law move around the galley, ditching the first aid box and returning to the faucet, peering into the sink to make sure there was no residual blood that might have splashed into the basin.  He gave it a quick wipe-down out of precaution, before finally walking back to the electric coffee pot to load the reservoir with ground beans from a large plastic container.  A smile danced over your lips watching his movements, reveling in the domestic bliss that rare moments like this provided.

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” you began.

“You probably know what I’m going to say,” he responded, picking up on your thoughts before they even left your mouth.

You sighed.  “I know.”

Law turned his back to the coffee pot as he waited for the water to boil, leaning back against the counter to face you.  His steely eyes softened at your saddened expression.

“I just think it would be fun to have you join us.  How often do we get days to… I don’t know… have fun?  To relax?”  You knew your words would have little power against the man before you, given how routine-oriented and strict he kept his daily life.  Even in a comfortable, romantic relationship with you, he still kept to his regular way of living, and very little could change that.

“Days like this set back projects by a mile,” Law muttered under his breath.  “It would be a waste of time for me to go outside in the cold and watch my crew lob rocks at each other.”

You bit your lip slightly as your mind raced for any way to convince your beloved to drop his duties for one single day and instead try to enjoy himself in the company of his crew, his friends and family.  “What if I help you later?  What if you delegate tasks later this evening to everyone to lighten your load?  What if–”

“Darling…”

“Law, I’m being serious!  Everyone hates it when you keep yourself cramped in your room hunched over paperwork all day… I hate it!  I don’t like seeing you stressed, and I know delays are frustrating but we’re pirates for crying out loud!  You have the freedom to drop your responsibilities for even a few minutes and relax.”  Your own voice raised ever so slightly in volume.

That word, the ‘F’ word, clearly had an effect on Law, given the way his shoulders stiffened.  The only sound that followed your pleas was the gurgling of the coffee machine on the counter.  His arms were crossed, eyebrows furrowed in thought as he stared back at you.  You held eye contact with his intense glare, not backing down from your request.  The two demons that sat on Law’s shoulder were having an all-out war with each other; one desperately begged for the cold captain to loosen up and enjoy himself, spend time with you and his crew, while the other told him he would be better off in his office, solitary, sipping on bitter coffee and scrawling chicken scratch into his log book.

Your eyes widened by a mere millimeter when you saw Law’s golden irises dart towards the porthole in the galley before instantly going back to you.

“I promise I’ll wear gloves,” you offered, your last remaining ammunition in this fleeting war of the mind.

A smirk cracked onto Law’s lips.  “You win.”

“What?”

“You win.  I’ll come outside with you.”

You launched to your feet, eyes wide with excitement.  “You will?!”

“Yeah.”

Law’s arms were ready to embrace you as you skipped toward him, boots leaving wet puddles across the metal floor in your wake as you threw your arms around his neck, angelic laughter leaving your throat as you thanked him for nothing in particular.  He squeezed your waist and gazed at you as you pulled away, eyes full of nothing but adoration for your happiness at such a miniscule agreement.

“Coffee can wait,” you demanded, linking your unbandaged hand with his and dragging him toward the ladder well to the top deck.  “Let’s go.”

“Wait, wait,” Law tugged on your arm.  “Gloves.”

You grumbled as you dug through a storage container filled with the crew’s seasonal accessories, pushing aside tacky hats and a few pairs of swimming goggles before producing a pair of insulated brown gloves.  They were smudged with dry oil and smelled akin to death, but you pulled them into your hands anyway, taking care to avoid pulling on your bandages.  Law pulled on his own jacket and gloves, changing out his shoes for a pair of heavier boots before following you up the ladder, onto the top deck, and out the main door into the cold, gray afternoon.  He obediently followed your heels as you bounded down the gangway, heavy steps alerting your crewmates to your return.

“Captain!  You’re alive!” Shachi called out, waving his hands in the air.

“How the hell did you manage to convince him to come outside?” Hakugan leaned over to you, exasperated judging by the sound of his voice.

Law had barely stepped foot into the layer of deep snow before he was tackled by a warm stone wall of white fur and an orange boiler suit.  His hands reflexively landed on Bepo’s shoulders, trying to steady the two of them before the human man would topple to the ground.

“Captain!  I’m so happy you’re joining us!  I’m building a snowbear, you need to help me!”  Bepo was rubbing his face into the side of Law’s head, leaving tufts of white fur behind that clung to the man’s black hair and feather-lined coat.

Their tender embrace was interrupted by a thud as a snowball planted itself behind Bepo’s head.  The bear released Law from his vice-like grip and whirled around, not hesitating when he dipped down, scooped a generous mound of snow from the ground, molded it into a ball with his large paws, and reeled his arm back to return fire to the first person he laid eyes on.

Clione was the victim, taking the huge snowball to the groin as it arched through the thin air and landed with precision and a comedic, dense smack.  The blonde doubled over with a pained grunt.

It didn’t take long for the fight to resume in full force, bald spots of snow being left in the ground as greedy hands scooped up larger and larger mounds of the frozen water to chuck at each other.  Law’s eyes gazed between each member of his crew, before landing on Penguin who secretly pulled a rock out from his pocket, shoving it into the snowball he held in his gloved hand.

With a split second flash of blue light and a barely audible whisper from the captain, the snowball previously held by Penguin was now clutched in Law’s hand.  The black-haired man reeled his arm back, throwing all of his energy into launching the snowball across the field toward Penguin, who took the blow to the chest.  The surprise caused him to stumble backwards, falling onto his ass and leaving a plume of snow to puff around him with the impact.  The Heart Pirates watched in awe as a mischievous smirk slowly appeared on Law’s mouth.

“No fair!  You have a devil fruit advantage!” someone’s voice shouted from across the snow-covered field.

“And?  You’ve sailed with me for long enough, use your head.”  

Law leaned down to gather another mound of snow in his hands, eyes landing on you.  As he motioned to lob the object in your direction, another snowball planted against his bicep, halting his movements.  Ikkaku stood opposite him, an equally bright smile on her face as she shouted at you to return fire.  He barely had time to look back at you when he was met with white powder directly to the face.  He blindly threw his own snowball towards where you stood, grinning when he was met with the sound of your surprised yelp.  He wiped the freeze from his face just in time for Ikkaku to awkwardly sprint through the deep snow toward where you lay on the ground, hollering that you were hit.  You tossed a thumbs up into the air before letting your arm fall back down, laughing with Ikkaku over your sorry state.

More snowballs, some containing rocks and some without, continued to pelt against Law, who returned them with enthusiastic movement and a devilish grin.  He tossed a glance over toward you, face flushing when he found his stare returned, a beautiful, relaxed smile dancing over your face.

—

Law yanked a damp towel off of his head, freeing his wet hair to the air of his room.  A shiver went up his spine at the sensation of cold hair against the back of his neck.  The sight made you laugh from where you sat on his bed, bundled in one of his sweatshirts that you had pulled over your knees, leaving only your sock feet visible.

He pulled a pair of ratty sweatpants over his legs before crawling on top of the bed with you, pulling you down by your shoulder into his chest.  “I’m cold because of you,” he complained.

“And now you can be warm because of me!” you replied, voice light and airy as you snaked your arms around his waist and forced one of your legs in between his.  A tangle of limbs lay on his mattress.

Law’s fingers played with the tips of your hair as he stared across his room at nothing.

“Thank you.”  Your voice shook the man from his thoughts.

“Why are you thanking me?”

“Because you came outside with me today.  Everyone had so much fun… it was nice.”

The tenderness of your tone pulled at Law’s heartstrings.  It had never occurred to him until then how much his absence might have affected his crew, affected you, and so negatively at that.  He had never seen his crew laugh as a collective until then, throwing snow before getting tired and resorting to building snow creatures or leaving imprints of their bodies in the plush, white freeze.  Law even left one of his own, directly next to yours.  The two images were connected where your hands would be, to remain there until the snow inevitably melted.

“I should be the one thanking you,” he mumbled into the crown of your head.

You giggled into his neck.  “I love you.”

Law inhaled deeply through his nose, closing his eyes at the sound of your words.  He wrapped his arms tighter around you, thoughts running rampant through his head.  You weren’t expecting a response, he very rarely said those three words back to you, choosing instead to spoil you with his physical affection instead.

“I love you, too.”

[ap41cu5]

The Rookie Detective: Joseph Oda x Fem! Reader (Chapter 4)

short synposis: joseph goes and visits sebastian, only to find out both his alcoholism and living conditions were worse than he thought. after helping him tidy up a bit and sustaining a cut on his face, the reader takes care of his wounds and lets him stay the night after he caught a cold <3

a/n: omg this only took me like a week to upload idk why this took me so long to write 😭 and these chapters just keep getting longer so i cut it a bit short at the end </3

word count: 4331

“Hey! Open up, I know you’re in there.”

Silence.

“Ugh,” Joseph grumbled, pounding on the door another few times.

“I’m not leaving until you open the door! I don’t care how long you decide to ignore me for!”

More silence.

The lush potted plants that used to decorate the patio had turned brown and moldy. A thick layer of dust coated his door handle, indicating that Sebastian hadn’t had visitors in a long while. 

“Don’t make me break down this door, Sebastian!” Joseph exclaimed, knocking another frustrated 3-4 times.

With an exasperated sigh, Joseph leaned onto one of the pillars just outside of Sebastian’s door.

He waited for about 30 seconds before he decided to begin knocking again until he heard the sweet sound of the latch unlocking. Finally emerging from behind the door, Sebastian’s hair was greasy and run amok, his now raggedy white tee-shirt was stained with what appeared to be remnants of alcohol, and his eyes were bloodshot.

“What do you want, Joseph? Just leave me be,” Sebastian’s voice was low and husky.

“You know I can’t do that,” Joseph said, letting himself in as he lightly pushed Sebastian aside to get through.

Taking off his shoes, Joseph’s nose immediately crinkled up at the sheer stench of the inside of his home. It reeked of alcohol and dust mixed with body odor. The entirety of his living room was riddled with stains, empty beer cans, and leftover bottles of wine. There was dust all over the fireplace and on the coffee table. As he entered the living room, taking in the gross and utterly pitiful sight, his attention was redirected by a noise from beside him.

“Do you like your gift, Lily?”

Joseph turned to the source of the sound. There was a video playing on the TV, it appeared to have been recorded on an old VHS. Myra was sitting next to Lily in front of a Christmas tree as she helped Lily to open her gift. A large, white teddy bear emerged from the red and white wrapping paper, it wore a Christmas hat and held a big red heart.

“I love it! Thanks so much papa!” Lily squeezed the bear in a hug before running behind the camera and into Sebastian’s arms.

The sight pained Joseph. How long has Sebastian been watching that for? Reminiscing over old memories of the family who had been brutally stolen from him?

“When’s the last time you’ve cleaned up around here? Or even taken a shower?” Joseph asked.

Joseph quickly went to find Sebastian’s pantry closet, where he grabbed a black trash bag and began to clean up all the leftover beer cans and bottles of wine. 

How does he live like this? Joseph thought to himself, his trash bag already halfway full despite there being even more bottles, cans, and even used tissues to clean up.

Sebastian didn’t say a word, but decided the least he could do was help him clean up the mess. Grabbing a trash bag and standing beside Joseph, he too began to clean up all of the trash left scattered around the living room.

Neither of them said a word as they both collected all of the leftover remnants. 

As Joseph picked up the last beer can, a cockroach scurried out from underneath, making him wince.

“Eugh, when’s the last time you’ve vacuumed?” Joseph asked as he watched the cockroach crawl behind the couch.

Sebastian didn’t answer, only grabbing the two full trash bags and taking them to the trash bin in his front yard. As Joseph went to return to the pantry for a vacuum cleaner, he noticed an empty bottle of alcohol left on his kitchen table.

“Looks like I missed one,” Joseph muttered to himself as he went to grab the bottle.

Grabbing the bottle by its neck, it slipped out of his grasp before he was able to catch it. The bottle smashed against the floor with a jarring ‘kersploosh!’ 

Shit.

Gathering up all the shards with his hands, he dumped all of the shards into a small trash bag to be thrown out later.

Joseph sighed, rubbing off any dust that got on his face. Returning to the pantry closet in search of a vacuum, he noticed a drop of red drip onto the floor. 

Was that.. blood?

A second drop of blood dripped onto his sock.

“Ouch!” Joseph lightly winced as he felt around his face for an open cut. 

There was what felt to be a slight cut just underneath his eye, and he had just added a second one as he continued to feel around his face. Looking down at his glove, there were small bits of glass shards likely from the broken bottle he dropped. It stung, but it was getting late and Joseph wanted to return home as quickly as he could for work in the morning. So he settled for quickly removing his gloves for the time being and dabbing the bleed site with a paper towel before he quickly returned to tending to Sebastian’s ungodly living situation.

Plugging the vacuum in, he proceeded to vacuum the entire area of carpet within his living room. The sound of the vacuum running over the carpet elicited a series of cracking noises as it removed all the dust and grime. As Sebastian re-emerged from his garage, he assisted Joseph by moving his furniture out of the way for Joseph to vacuum.

Minutes turned into hours as Joseph cleaned up around Sebastian’s home for him. While his home wasn’t exactly spotless, it was certainly in better condition than before.

“You should really consider getting help, Sebastian. Maybe getting a therapist,” Joseph suggested, taking his glasses off and inspecting all of the dust that covered its lenses. 

Sebastian, again, didn’t answer. Only breaking eye contact.

“I appreciate your help, Joseph.” “Hey, I’m serious! This isn’t healthy. How long have you been rewatching that video of Myra and Lily? You can’t drink all your problems away, Sebastian!” Joseph frustratedly huffed.

“What I do outside of work is none of your goddamn business.”

“I know you’re upset right now, so I’ll give you time to think over my offer. But, I do hope that you will begin therapy by your own prerogative,” Joseph replied as he put his glasses back on and began to make his way to the door.

Unsurprisingly, Joseph was only met by silence.

Shutting the front door behind him, Joseph pinched the bridge of his nose as he stood at the front of the patio.

“Please don’t make this harder than this already is, Sebastian,” Joseph muttered to himself under his breath.

Taking one final glance at the patio before he set on his way, he noticed one of the potted plants had been knocked over, likely due to the wind. He never knew Myra enjoyed gardening, but the abundance of plants around the house spoke for themselves. He carefully picked up the pot and set it upright, the leaves crunching as they rattled within the confines of the pot.

Joseph sighed. The scene was nothing short of depressive. 

“Not even the plants can survive without you, Myra,” said Joseph as he carefully scooped back up the loose soil that fell out of the pot.

“Wherever you are,” he paused for a moment, “Sebastian misses you. Both you and Lily.”

He got up, quickly dusting himself off as he finally made his way to his car. The deep blue color of the sky flooded the streets in darkness. With the only hint of illumination cascading down onto the busy streets from the moon, Joseph nearly tripped over his own two feet.

Just about to approach the last step down from Sebastian’s porch, his phone loudly rang from the inside of his pocket. The jarring sound made him jump as he quickly fumbled through his pockets to answer the rather unexpected phone call. Looking down at the caller ID, he held a certain level of uncertainty as to whether or not he remembered your phone number correctly, and if it really was you he was receiving a call from.

“Hello?” Joseph spoke into the phone, hoping to hear your voice on the other line.

“Joseph?” You replied, your voice a bit gravely after just waking up.

“(First Name)! I thought you’d be sleeping!” He replied, his heart rate immediately increasing upon hearing your voice.

“Your note was so considerate, Joseph. I– uh..” you gulped, “I wanted to check up on you.” Joseph immediately felt his face heat up.

“You.. you did?” He stammered, flattered that you were thinking of him.

“In the note you wrote that in case I was sleeping, you said you didn’t want to call in case you’d wake me up since I hadn’t gotten any sleep last night. So.. I wanted to check up on you. To see how everything went with Sebastian.”

You were just so sweet. You should have been sleeping right now, really. You were very clearly exhausted by how you were acting in the office earlier that day. He could even hear the exhaustion in your voice, but here you were, sacrificing precious time just to check up on him. His stomach was doing somersaults and he could feel his face heat up all the way up to his ears.

“It– it went.. alright I suppose. Sebastian’s not doing so great. He’s been watching this video on repeat for– God knows how long– of Lily and Myra opening Christmas presents. His house was a mess. All kinds of empty bottles of alcohol, and so much dust and grime everywhere. He’s falling apart,” Joseph felt his chest tighten, “I wanted to help him clean up as much as I could before I had to go back home, so I helped him clean up a bit and vacuum. And of course, I accidentally knocked over a bottle and cut myself on my face of all places.”

“That’s very kind of you, Joseph. Simply based on what I’ve heard, I would highly advise him to begin seeing a therapist. And, who’s Myra and Lily?” You asked.

Joseph sighed, he accidentally said too much.. again.

“I’m sorry, (First Name). I would tell you, but I still hold a lot of respect for Sebastian. He’s been a very good friend of mine for years, I would never want to ruin that,” he explained, feeling a bit bad for continuing to leave you confused.

“That’s alright, Joseph. I understand completely. And– and you said that you accidentally cut yourself, right? You didn’t happen to cut yourself with glass, did you?” You inquired, unsure of whether to be concerned or not.

“Uh.. yeah,” Joseph replied, a tinge of embarrassment present in his tone.

“Shit, did you tend to it properly!? Come back to my apartment,” you told him.

Joseph elicited a noise which consisted of a mix of grunt of confusion and slight panic. “Glass cuts can leave microshards which could be dangerous if they enter your bloodstream! I’ll clean it up for you, just come over to my apartment! I’ll remove them for you.” You quickly interjected,

“(First Name), are you sure that’s necessary? The cuts are really shallow–” “Just do it!” Your voice was laced with a sort of motherly aggression with how insistent you were on tending to his wounds.

He seemed to contemplate for a moment whether he should truly decline the offer or not. Despite how much he would enjoy the extra time with you, it was getting quite late. But apparently, the word “no” had recently escaped from his vocabulary. 

“Alright, I’m on my way,” Joseph replied, nearly facepalming upon hearing how quickly he said accepted your offer.

You almost fell out of your seat, you weren’t expecting him to say yes so quickly. But you were glad to spend more time with him.

“Sounds great! I–I mean, well, I’m glad I can tend to your wound since glass cuts can be tricky,” you stammered, you likely sounded a bit too excited for him to be coming over again.

A smile pricked at the corners of Joseph’s mouth.

“I’ll see you soon, (First Name).” 

Shortly after hanging up the phone, Joseph inwardly sighed before taking a moment to gaze up at the night sky.

“You really are going to be the death of me, (First Name),” Joseph muttered to himself before quickly entering the front seat of his car.

You were practically bouncing off the walls, but you kept reminding yourself that the only reason he was coming over was so that you could help him tend to his cuts. Quickly rinsing your face with cold water to bring down the persistent blush that never seemed to falter at the idea of him, you quickly rushed to grab your first aid kit from one of your drawers. Quickly setting it down onto your coffee table, you rushed to your bathroom for some cotton balls, tweezers and some hydrogen peroxide. You quickly fixed the pillows on your couch and dusted off your coffee table a bit, even spraying a bit of air freshener just in case. Right after the last spritz, as if on cue, you heard a knock at your door.

You practically threw the air freshener down as you scurried over to the door, not wanting to leave him waiting (and also being way too excited to see him), you quickly opened the door to greet him.

As the door swung open, the open cuts on Joseph’s face, just underneath his left eye, immediately caught your attention. While they didn’t look too deep, one of them stretched from the middle of his cheekbone all the way to just underneath the corner of his eye. The second one, while not as long, was significantly deeper and intersected the first cut, it looked about an inch long.

“Jesus, Joseph! How did you cut your face that badly?” You asked, a bit of blood threatening to spill from the second cut on his face.

Not even giving him a chance to answer, you grabbed his arm and pulled him inside, shutting the door behind him.

He let out a surprised grunt as his shoes squeaked against your floor as he tried to maintain his balance.

“I– sorry,” he meekly apologized as he quickly kicked off his shoes before walking onto your carpet.

“Here, have a seat,” you directed him to your couch where you quickly sat beside him to begin treating his wounds.

“Please remove your glasses,” you directed as you grabbed a cotton ball.

You poured a bit of hydrogen peroxide onto the cotton ball as you very gently dabbed it onto his face. He winced immediately, flinching a bit upon contact.

Gently resting your hand on the back of his head, you gently blew onto the open cut so it wouldn’t sting as much. 

“Just a few more seconds, Joseph. I just need to sterilize the site of the injury before I can properly treat it,” you explained as you continuously dabbed the cotton ball onto his cheek while blowing onto it.

He nodded in response, and you quickly finished up the disinfection process before you quickly grabbed your tweezers. Upon further inspection, there were tiny glass shards sitting inside of the smaller, deeper cut.

“There’s a couple of glass shards in one of the cuts. I’ll try to be as gentle as I can, I promise,” you cooed, gently pushing his head towards you so you could take a better look.

He bit the inside of his cheek at the blush that flooded his cheeks.

“Try to stay as still as you can for me,” you gently requested, unconsciously biting your lip as you tried your best to stay focused.

He gulped, his eyes darting between your hand, your eyes, and your lips. He could’ve sworn he could hear his heart racing with how close you were, that focused look in your eyes, and the way you bit down on your lip. On the bright side, it served as a good distraction. He almost couldn’t feel the tweezers reaching into the cut on his face and removing the wedged pieces of glass.

“There you go. Just like that,” you muttered as you carefully pulled out the last tiny glass shard.

As you finally took your hand off of the base of his neck and turned to put down the tweezers, Joseph let out a breath he hadn’t even known he was holding in to begin with. He felt his hands slowly unclench the base of his thighs and his shoulders loosen.

Quickly grabbing some neosporin, you squeezed a small amount onto your finger and turned back to Joseph.

“We’re almost done,” you smiled, motioning for him to turn his head slightly towards you again.

“Try to be more careful next time, please. Had this cut been even just a tad bit longer, you would’ve cut yourself in the eye,” your thumb lightly grazing over the end of the slit, just underneath his eye.

“You’re lucky none of these cuts were too deep, either. The last thing you’d want is stitches. But these look shallow enough to be able to heal on their own. Hopefully they don’t leave any scars..” you were so close he could feel your breath against his neck.

He felt himself tense at the close proximity. The scent of your hair conditioner flooded his senses and he could feel every single word in his vocabulary get stolen from him. His words had escaped him, and he was unable to say a single word. His face was beet red, his blush even more apparent given his pale complexion. 

Confused that he hadn’t responded, you took a moment to step back and scan his face, wondering if you had said something wrong. Immediately, the blush on his face caught your attention. Had you overstepped his boundaries? You quickly retracted your hand and immediately felt a pit in your chest open up. Had you made him uncomfortable? “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to overstep if I got a bit too touchy. I guess I just– I don't know– I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable–” you stammered, unconsciously beginning to twirl your hair in discomfort.

“No, no it’s alright! I– I guess must have spaced out, it was nothing you did (First Name). You didn’t overstep at all, and you were very gentle. I promise,” Joseph reassured you as he placed a hand on your shoulder, the blush on his cheeks gradually beginning to subside.

Now it was your turn to become flustered, apparently. Your cheeks lit up at the contact as you finally looked up at him. Your eyes catching a glimpse of his hands without his gloves for the first time. His fingers were long and slender, with a few veins stretching from his knuckles all the way down to his forearms. They were even prettier than you had imagined.

“Thank you for taking care of me, (First Name). We’ve only just met and you’re already lending me your kindness. And for that I thank you,” he added, his eyes darting between your eyes and your lips.

You were just so beautiful. Inside and out, and that fact had him in a chokehold. Part of him wanted to kiss you, badly. And the other part of him internally scolded himself for having such thoughts about you, an amazing woman that he had only just met.

You couldn’t find the words to speak at first, you were too flustered to even think straight. At first, all you could do was give him a small nod.

“Y-yeah, any– anytime, Joseph. It’s– it’s no problem, really!” You stumbled over your words, beet red at this point.

You could feel his hand slowly move upwards, his hand just barely touching the base of your neck. As you looked up at him, your lips unconsciously parting, his eyes seemed to dart between your eyes and your mouth.  

The tension was killing you. You had only just met him and yet here you were, falling, hard.

You quickly stood up, “How about I make you some tea!” You said as you made your way over to the kitchen.

“Ah– sure,” he replied, stifling a chuckle at your reaction.

“I have all sorts of teas here, I have Green, Earl Gray, chai, English Breakfast, which would you prefer?” You asked, taking extra care to hide your blushing face as you rummaged through your pantry.

“Earl Gray would be perfect!” He replied, leaning back on your couch, the soft pillows cradling his back perfectly. 

The scent of your air freshener was strangely relaxing. His eyes seemed to shut on their own as he let his head rest on the back of your couch. The light whirr from your fan and the sound of you preparing his tea was oddly comforting. He was exhausted from all of the events of today. He took extra care to drive you home after work, he had to help Sebastian clean up his living area, and he was going to have to drive home now after you finished preparing his tea. 

What time is it right now? Should I shower tonight or in the morning? I’ll probably shower in the morning since I’ll be too tired once I get home. It sure smells nice in (First Name)’s apartment. Joseph thought to himself, but all of his scattered thoughts slowly grew quieter. He was so tired he hadn’t even realized he was slowly drifting off to sleep.

After a few minutes of warming up the water and letting the tea bag steep, you stirred some honey into his tea. After you threw out the tea bag, you were finally ready to serve it to Joseph. 

Carefully placing the mug onto your coffee table, “It’s a bit hot, so be careful,” you said, only to be met by Joseph’s sleeping form. His ankles were crossed and his arms were folded over his stomach. His head was slightly tilted to the side. You quietly admired his features as he laid there. He had very nice, sharp features. Prominent cheekbones with a sharp jawline and a noticeably good side profile. He looked so tranquil. How could you ever want to wake someone who looked so soothed and peaceful while they slept?

You were taken aback when he elicited a sudden twitch in his sleep. You quickly looked away in case he woke up, not wanting to be caught staring. Slowly looking back at him, you now had another problem on your hands. A moral dilemma, if you will.

Should you wake him up and get him to go home and rest? Or should you just let him sleep here? What is the right thing to do in this situation? Part of you wanted to just let him sleep there, but what if he got upset once he awoke for not waking him up? You sighed, deciding that the best thing to do would be to wake him up. 

You gently placed a hand on his shoulder, “Joseph!” You whisper-yelled, hoping that somehow, that would be enough to wake him.

Unsurprisingly, he was still asleep. 

You lightly shook him, “Joseph?” You called out again, and were slightly disappointed when he began to stir and wake up from his slumber.

His eyes slowly opened, taking in his surroundings like he had forgotten where he was for a moment. He lightly rubbed his eyes as he slowly began to sit back up.

“O-oh, (First Name). I hadn’t realized I fell asleep,” he yawned, searching for his glasses.

You quickly took his glasses from your table and handed them to him,  your hands just barely touching for a moment.

“Thanks,” he quickly muttered as he put his glasses on.

He seemed to take a moment to let his eyes adjust to the brightness of your living room as his blinking had become slightly more rapid and he was still slightly squinting. 

“Achoo!” He sneezed, covering his mouth with his elbow.

He sniffled, rubbing one of his eyes.

“Bless you,” you said, immediately grabbing him a tissue.

He cleared his throat.

“I.. I don’t feel very well. I think I may have caught something after my visit to Sebastian’s place,” Joseph grumbled, his voice sounding nasally with congestion.

“Have some tea! It'll make you feel better!” You quickly advised, handing him the mug.

He gently took the mug from you and had a sip. His eyebrows raised slightly in pleasant surprise.

“You make very good tea,” he commented, taking another sip before breaking out into a violent coughing fit.

“Oh Joseph, you might be coming down with something,” you speculated, pressing the back of your fingertips onto his forehead. 

“You’re burning up, Joseph!” You said in a conciliatory tone, “Why don’t you stay here for the night? You need to rest.”

“No– I couldn’t possibly ask that of you,” Joseph politely declined as he tried to stand, before breaking into another violent coughing fit.

“You’re not asking, I’m offering. You took the time to drive me home, walk me all the way here, and even tuck me in. Please, I insist,” you placed a hand on his shoulder as you looked him in the eyes.

You were just so painfully hard to say no to. 

“Ah.. alright. Thank you, (First Name).” You couldn’t fight the big smile that spread across your face.

“Would you like to take a shower? You’re welcome to use mine. And I’ll get you some clothes to change into as well!” You added as you got up to find your dresser.

“That would be great. Thank you again,” he sniffled as he went to grab another tissue.

The moment you left the room and shut the door behind you, you couldn’t help but jump up and down like a little kid. Right as you finally settled down, you gathered some of your most oversized clothes to provide for him.

Who knew taking care of the guy you liked would be so fun?

[mason-the-mosan]

Rotting Pumpkins

TW: Graphic descriptions of rot

~~~~~~

Have you ever smelled rotting pumpkins? Its not very pleasant. Its not earthy, or plant-like. There's a hint of sweetness, but it mixes so horribly with the others it makes the whole thing even worse. Its a scent you don't smell very often, because most people don't let it get to that point. Sure, if you carve one into a jack-o-lanterns, you'll toss it as it decomposes, but almost no one lets it get too bad. When its starts to cave in, that's the end of the line.

I work at a grocery store. Not too big, and not to far from where I live, perfect for me. I work in the bottle room, an even smaller area near the front. I bring all this up because of one other section of the store: Floral. Floral is responsible for setting up displays outside of the store, usually right outside of the bottle room. It's always themed around the season, or whatever holiday is coming up. Flowers and plants of various kinds in the spring and summer, Christmas wreaths and trees in the winter, and pumpkins for autumn. You might be able to see where this is going.

Whenever autumn rolls around, the front of the store is decorated with pumpkins and gourds of various kinds. There were also plants in pots, but they always looked wilted to me. Some of the pumpkins were in big cardboard boxes, some were put on stepped metal displays, but most were just thrown in piles against the store walls. Never understood why they'd just pile it, always made my job harder when I had to move bottle bins around them.

Sometimes, someone from floral would come out and water the plants. Oddly, they'd also water the pumpkins. I thought that was odd, not like they could keep growing anymore. combined with the fluctuating weather we've been having lately, I was concerned about how fast the pumpkins could rot this year.

I bring this all up because some things happened a week ago. It started when one day, someone inside the store had decided to move the pumpkins on the right side of the store to the left. I'm not sure when it happened, but they did it pretty damn fast, cause one hour they were on one side, next the other. They were piled up against the wall, so many you couldn't see the ground or the wall behind it. Only one pumpkin remained, looking out of place against the red brick behind it. I wasn't sure why it was left behind, but learned why quickly when I grabbed it, ripping the thing in half.

The stench was awful. The wind made it worse, billowing around me and attacking my nose from all sides. I had to get gloves and a trash bag, scooping the mess by hand. It was like trying to handle slime, slipping through my fingers and splatting back onto the ground. Some was more solid, tearing from the goo in meaty strands. Even with the gloves, I squirmed uncomfortably. The worst thing about it, though, was how warm it was. the day was dreary and sad, the night cold, but it was like the rotting flesh of the gourd had been sitting in the sun all day.

The second thing to happen, I didn't notice immediately. The day was hot, and floral had just finished watering the pumpkins again. Over the course of the day, most of the liquid dried. However, one trickle continued to persist, which I did slowly notice. It grew longer and longer, like a single crooked finger growing from the pile of orange. The smell began to grow stronger too, the tip of the liquid finger turning a sickly orange-cream color. I let the managers know I thought another pumpkin was rotting, and they said they'd take care of it, but I wasn't too sure. I wasn't gonna dive in there myself to find it, and after what happened the next day, I'm glad I didn't.

I had the next day off, so I wasn't there when it happened. When I came in next, the pumpkins were gone, the entire area clear of any sort of seasonal items. The air was really somber inside the store, and when I asked, I was pulled into a side room and quietly told.

A skeleton had been found buried under the pumpkins.

I didn't hear anything else about the situation for the rest of the day. From what I was told, someone was digging through the pile for the perfect specimen when they found it. It was pressed against the wall, the pumpkins around them rotted to the point of turning to mush. A bony hand stuck out from the glob of rotten plant matter, like it was reaching. The bones were covered in a thick layer of the stuff, and some parts were described as 'stringy' when the skeleton was lifted from the mass. Like sinews of orange muscle, trying to drag it back down. Inner parts sloughed off in clumps, seeds dangling from tiny threads. The mush took some of the bones with it, ripping ribs from the chest and popping off an arm. A coworker who was getting carts and saw it told me it looked like the rot 'didn't want to let go'.

Cops were called, as the bones weren't plastic, but we don't have much hope of finding out what happened. The current rumor I heard was some college folks stealing a skeleton from a morgue to pull some kinda prank, which would be the more comfortable explanation. Something out of a horror movie, but still a grounded reason. However, I don't really believe that. Someone would've noticed, they had to. How do you move so many pumpkins without someone noticing? How do you get that much rotten matter in the same place without someone realizing?

Either way, I'm just glad the pumpkins are gone.

[kpopfanfictrash]

Raise the Barre (Ch. 11)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Eventual Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Warnings: ANGST part 3! But again, with progress attached.

Word Count: 10,246

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.  

When you woke Saturday morning, you felt clearer about things than you’d felt all week. Your nap had lasted longer than intended, so when you woke around ten and groggily looked at your phone, you realized you’d missed your opportunity to talk to Finn.

He’d called around seven, but you seemed to have slept through this, and he’d left you no voicemail. Shooting him a text, you tried to stay up but promptly fell back asleep. When you woke to the sun streaming through your windows the next morning, you realized this was it. You’d reached a breaking point.

Pushing aside your covers, you climbed down from bed and began to get ready. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you fixed yourself up as best as you could before leaving the dorm. It was still early in the morning, the air containing a chill while you walked to the coffee shop. Finn still hadn’t responded to your text from the night prior, so you decided to give him an hour before you went over.

It had been three days since your fight in the library. If he didn’t know what to say to you by now, he could figure out what to say when he saw you in person. Steeling yourself for this possibility, you entered the shop and walked to the counter.

Staring at the holiday specials on the board, you felt nothing but numbness. As you ordered a peppermint latte and left a tip, you made a mental note to pick up Noelle one on your way home. She’d been the best friend to you this week – all weeks, really. Despite not knowing what was wrong, she’d done her best to cheer you up and be there for you.

Sipping your coffee at a table in the corner, you stared blankly at your phone. It was strange, being in a place you’d once been happy with Finn and no longer feeling attached to the memory. It was strange, contemplating the idea of breaking up with a cool sort of detachment, as though it were happening to someone other than you.

You wondered if all relationships reached a point where you simply felt tired. Maybe all humans had an emotional cap; a quota wherein all emotions following simply went unfelt. If this was this case, you imagined you might have hit yours.

Once your drink was finished, you stood and walked to place your mug in the bin. It had officially been an hour, which meant it was time to confront Finn at Redfield. Hiking your bag higher, you were about to leave the shop when you heard a familiar voice coming from behind a potted plant.

“Mom, are you serious?” Sabrina said, sounding upset. “This is a good thing.”

Uncertain, you paused. When you glanced around the fern, you saw Sabrina seated with someone unfamiliar at a table. The other person was a woman – older than you and, judging by the conversation, she seemed to be Sabrina’s mother.

Whoever she was, the woman sighed with the tone of someone who’d had this conversation before. “Tell me what’s good about it, Sabrina,” she demanded. “Vlad Copson is recommending you take additional classes outside of Russet.”

“I know.” Sabrina faltered. “It’s just because I asked about the contemporary dance program, though. I don’t… I don’t have a lot of experience in that area.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“I’m not saying it’s anyone’s fault, I’m just saying I want to–”

“We’ve been over this before, Sabrina. You need to work harder.”

Sabrina stopped talking. “I know.”

“Do you, though?” Pulling out her phone, her mother scrolled through her email. “You’ve had every advantage money could buy. Private lessons, an elite dance academy. How could you possibly be falling behind? It’s barely even the first semester.”

“Everyone’s talented at Russet, mom.”

Realizing you were staring, you side-stepped until you were hidden partway behind the fern. Mind racing, you wondered if this was what Sabrina had wanted to discuss. You’d had no idea she was interested in contemporary dance. She hadn’t seemed comfortable in the master class last week – but then again, maybe that’s what sparked this conversation.

It was strange to hear her sounding so small, so defeated. You were used to Sabrina being larger than life. If nothing else, the Sabrina you knew was confident – as soon as you thought this, a different memory came to mind. Something Jimin had said to you inside Dr. Gonzalez’s office.

He’d compared you to Sabrina and mentioned she was more insecure than you were.

“Why don’t you ask one of your friends for help?” said Sabrina’s mother. “Kelsey… or Alex?”

“Katie and Allison,” Sabrina stiffly corrected. “I asked them but um, they didn’t have time. You know… end of semester and stuff…”

She trailed off, sounding uncomfortable and you frowned. Again, you remembered last week’s master class. Sabrina’s friend Katie had stood beside Jungkook instead of helping her out. You’d thought it was weird at the time, but maybe they weren’t as close as you thought they were.

Or maybe they were similar, in that Katie wasn’t the type of person to help someone else when she had the chance to pull ahead.

Her mother made a noncommittal noise. “We’ll, you’ll just have to figure something out then, won’t you? I told you something like this would happen. That boy was a distraction. You’re better off now that you’ve ended things with him.”

Stiffening, you wondered if the boy they spoke about was Jimin, but then Sabrina scowled.

“Eamon was not a distraction,” she said, sounding sure of herself for the very first time.

Eyes widening, you stared. You’d had no idea Sabrina and Eamon were even a thing. Frantically, you thought back and tried to piece it together. You remembered Eamon leaving the dance floor at the club to head upstairs, which was where Sabrina had been sitting. Ten minutes later, she’d stormed into the downstairs bathroom in tears.

Based on what her mom was saying, it sounded as though Sabrina had broken up with Eamon. Immediately, your heart fell, and you wondered if your fight with Sabrina in the bathroom had been part of this aftermath.

“Still,” her mother said. “The time you spent with him was time you could’ve spent practicing! You’re young, Sabrina and ballerinas only perform until they’re thirty-five – if that. You’ll have plenty of time to date later on.”

“I barely even saw him as it was!”

“Maybe I need to cut the hours on your phone again.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Sabrina said tightly. “I need to go.” She stood from the table, chair scraping beneath her. “I told Katie we’d meet to head to a ballet class uptown. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Alright, then.”

Her mom didn’t seem concerned, waving goodbye like one might an acquaintance. Sabrina hovered a moment before hitching her bag to walk past. You realized you were still standing there, gawping at and swiftly sprang into action.

Pushing your way out the door, the bell jingled above you. You saw Sabrina’s head move but left before you could see if she’d noticed your presence. Hurrying down the sidewalk, you pulled your jacket tighter and kept your head down. That hadn’t seemed like a conversation you were meant to overhear.

Also, you weren’t sure what you’d overheard. As your steps began to slow, Sabrina’s comment from earlier in the year began to make sense. She’d relayed her mother’s advice on success – that only a few women ever made it to the top and as such, if Sabrina helped you to succeed, it’d be detrimental to her.

Having now seen Sabrina’s mom in action, you understood where she got this from. At the time, you’d been mad at Sabrina but now, you felt a strange sense of pity. The possibility of Sabrina falling behind had never crossed your mind and yet, it seemed Mr. Vlad had recommended extra classes. This made you think about what Jimin had said. Everyone at Russet was corrected, at some point of another.

At least you had a support system to fall back on, though; Sabrina had nothing. Her so-called friends had fled at the first sign of conflict and her mother didn’t seem interested beyond her ranking in class. This struck you as indescribably sad.

Unfortunately, you didn’t have time to linger upon Sabrina’s situation – as soon as you entered Redfield’s campus, all thoughts of Russet flew from your mind. Redfield University was such a short walk you’re your campus; if you did break up, it would be so awkward to run into Finn later on.

This was something you would’ve considered in high school, but you hadn’t imagined this to be a factor once you went to college. The realization made your heart sink, realizing how distant you’d become despite living so close together.

As you walked under Redfield’s archway, you exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Orange-brown leaves crunched underfoot, seemingly having fallen from trees overnight. As you wound between dorms, you saw only a few people about at this hour. Pulling your bag higher, you hoped Finn would even be at his dorm.

He’d talked about moving off campus a few weeks ago – there wasn’t much space in the city for dorms, so students often moved out after freshman year, or even during their second semester. Maybe Finn would move further away and solve your concerns about running into each other.

Startled, you realized you were thinking about Finn in the past tense. Shaking this thought from mind, you stuffed your hands in your pockets and walked to his dorm. It took longer this time for someone to let you in – it seemed most of Redfield didn’t wake before 10:00 AM – but soon enough, you were climbing the steps to his room.

Your hands trembled as you walked down the hall, the lack of noise oddly suffocating when you stopped at his door. It took you a long moment to knock; several heartbeats you counted out like a watch.

After a second, you heard movement inside.

“Ben?” Finn called out, a bit groggy. “I already told you. I don’t want to get breakfast, I –”

He pulled open the door, revealing the entire room and you froze.

It was difficult to choose what to focus on first. Finn, in his boxers, Madison tugging on jeans, or the unmade bed behind them in the corner. Your gaze darted to each one in turn until, feeling suddenly nauseous, you stumbled backwards.

When he saw it was you, Finn froze in place. As soon as he came to his senses, he stepped into the hall and tried to shut the door, but it was too late. You’d already seen.

Every emotion you’d felt over the past couple of days rose to the surface. All the horror you’d felt, the self-flagellation you’d done – it had all been for nothing.

Suddenly livid, you began to see red.

“No,” you said, pushing past him. Shoving open the door, you glared hard at Madison. “I think I’d rather have this conversation in here. You should leave,” you informed her.

Finn muttered something which sounded like a curse. Madison glanced at him, startled and Finn slowly turned. Wrestling a hand through his hair, he seemed slightly panicked as he nodded at Madison.

“You should probably go, Maddie,” he said.

Hearing him speak, your vision blurred. He’d called Madison ‘Maddie’ in the library, but it suddenly struck you how familiar it was. How casual, how intimate her name sounded on his tongue. Closing your eyes, you forced the image from mind.

It refused to go.

Swallowing hard, you realized you couldn’t do this. You couldn’t have this conversation right now; couldn’t stay any longer.

Opening your eyes, you quickly shook your head. “I have to go,” you said, pushing past him. “Forget it, Finn. We’re done.”

As soon as you left, you bolted for the exit. Heading for the stairs, your blood pounded in your veins and drowned out all thought. You were grateful for this, since if you had time to think rationally, you’d think about Finn and Madison, half-dressed in the dorm.

Slamming open the door to the stairwell, you were halfway across the lobby when the elevator dinged and slid open.

“Y/N, wait!” Finn gasped, running out. He hopped on one foot as he slid on a sneaker. “Please – please, talk to me.”

You continued to walk. “There’s nothing to talk about, Finn.”

“There is,” he insisted, grabbing you by the elbow and turning you to face him.

Roughly, you shrugged him off.

“Please,” he begged, sounding desperate. “Please. I fucked up, Y/N. I fucked up so badly and I’m sorry.”

Freezing in place, you met his gaze.

You honestly couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Finn was asking you to forgive him. He was asking you to forgive him as though he wanted you to stay. He had cheated on you. Finn was an absolute idiot if he thought you’d forgive him after that. If he thought you could trust him after that.

Immediately, your heart sank because you’d cheated on him, as well – maybe not like this, but you’d cheated all the same.

Some of the anger drained from your body.

“What are you sorry about?” you said, turning to face him.

Finn shook his head. “For… that,” he said. “For you having to see that.”

“Are you sorry for sleeping with her?”

He winced. “Yes.”

Releasing a low laugh, you looked away. A strange thought occurred to you, and you remembered Yoongi’s reaction when he’d said the name Madison. It seemed too coincidental for you to have walked in on their first time together.

Still facing away from him, you asked, “How many times?”

Finn paused. He exhaled, sounding pained and you felt your heart stumble.

“Just once,” he whispered. “But… we kissed last weekend. I was really drunk on Halloween and I… apparently, we kissed.”

It hurt more than you thought it would. Like a physical punch to the gut, you imagined Finn with his body on hers, their lips molded together, and his hands tangled her hair.

Swallowing hard, you nodded. “Oh.”

“It was stupid,” Finn insisted, stepping forward. “The kiss on Halloween – I didn’t even remember it until Madison told me on Thursday. She was there when I came back from our fight and asked if I remembered what happened Saturday. I said that I didn’t. She explained what happened, we got to talking and I…”

“I get it,” you said tightly, looking back. “I don’t need a play-by-play.”

“Sorry.”

“I called you, Finn. Multiple times.”

“I know.” Lifting his palms, he rubbed at his eyes. “I know, but when I got your message… I didn’t want to talk anymore. I thought what I wanted was to break up with you and Madison… she was simple, you know? I was hurt, she was there and it just kind of happened.”

His words sounded so crushingly similar to how you’d felt with Jimin. It was like looking at a warped mirror of yourself and this was when you realized nothing about this was normal. The two of you had hurt each other too many times to ever get back.

“Please say something,” he said. “Y/N, please.”

“What do you want me to say?” you said quietly.

“I – I don’t know.”

After a moment, you said, “Do you still love me?”

“Yes,” Finn murmured.

When you made a dismissive noise, his gaze narrowed.

“It’s true,” Finn insisted, stepping closer. “I do love you. That’s what I realized when I woke up this morning. I rolled over and saw her and I just… I knew, Y/N. I’d made the worst mistake of my life. I woke up this morning and knew I didn’t want to break up after all.”

“Don’t… don’t do that,” you exhaled, looking away.

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t try and put this back together,” you bit out, eyes flashing. “If it took you sleeping with someone else to make you realize you wanted me, then I don’t know what to tell you.”

Finn was silent for a moment.

“I know,” he said miserably. “I know that you’re right, and I’m sorry.”

The words hung in the air and you couldn’t help it – you ached. The temptation to give in was right there. The temptation to forgive, to forget and let things go back to normal. But when you looked at Finn, you saw her, and you knew this could never be fixed.

“Why?” you said, voicing the first question you thought of.

He blinked. “Why, what?”

“Why her?”

“I…” He looked down. “I don’t know. She was my friend and then… I don’t know. She was there. Maddie listened to me, she paid attention and it felt like you were slipping further away.”

“So… you slept with her because she listened to you?”

Finn groaned and closed his eyes. “I don’t even know why I’m trying to explain. I can’t. I can’t explain this away, it can’t be excused… I’m sorry, Y/N.” Slowly, he shook his head. “So, so sorry.”

After a moment, you looked at the elevator. “Is she still up there?”

Finn opened his eyes and nodded.

“Tell her to go.”

Silently, he pulled out his phone and sent a text. Finn waited for a reply and once he got it, slipped his phone back in his pants.

“She’s taking the stairs down,” he said.

“Then let’s take the elevator.”

While you waited for this to come, you crossed both arms over your chest and stared at the numbers. You weren’t going upstairs because you thought Finn deserved a second chance. If anything, his infidelity made it clear you both wanted out. Your constant hurting each other meant more than the love you’d once shared.

This wasn’t love, anyways.

Hanging onto that ideal would only demolish you further. You were going upstairs because you owed that much to yourself. You deserved more than half-explanations and you weren’t leaving until you got them. You and Finn had been together two years at this point. If you left now and ran away, you’d always wonder what if.

When you entered his room, you came to a stop in the center. Yoongi wasn’t here and you felt a twinge of regret, realizing he’d been trying to tell you something Wednesday. Turning around, you slowly sat on the edge of his futon. This seemed a safer option than his bed.

Finn hovered a few feet away.

“So,” you said, looking up. “You still love me?”

“I do.”

Gently, you closed your eyes. “And you think that’s enough?”

Finn didn’t say anything at first, sensing a trap until at last, you sighed.

“It’s not enough,” you said, opening your eyes. “That’s what I was coming over to tell you. Finn, you haven’t even texted me since our fight on Wednesday. You just ghosted me, and I know – I know I’ve done that to you, too. But that’s the point! We keep hurting one another. Is this really the relationship you want?”

“No,” he said miserably.

“Then, what do you want?”

“What do you expect me to say to that?” he said, sounding frustrated.

“You’re the one who’s saying you love me,” you pointed out. “You’re the one who’s saying this was all a mistake. Do you really want to be together still, Finn?”

“Yes.”

“Bullshit!” You gave a bitter laugh. “Don’t just say the word without knowing what it means. Do you want to be in this relationship, Finn? I don’t mean the idyllic version of us. I mean the messy, right-now version. Do you really want that?”

He stared at you, uncertain. “I just… I want us how we used to be.”

“Don’t you see, though?” you whispered. “We can’t be that. I want that too, Finn, but so much has happened. Not just the cheating, but everything else. All the fighting, all the miscommunication. You have a specific idea of what your girlfriend should be, and I’m not it. Not anymore.”

“I don’t need any of that though,” Finn finally said. He sat beside you on the futon. “I mean, yeah. I’d like to see you more. I want to be with you more. But that’s just it. I want you. I –”

“I kissed Jimin.”

Finn immediately stopped. He stared at you a second, as though struggling to make sense of the words. When you turned and met gaze, you felt your heart break again. This wasn’t how you’d planned on telling him. You had wanted to explain, wanted to ease him into it, but it was clear Finn wouldn’t stop until he knew this was over.

His lips parted, and then his gaze narrowed. “When did this happen?”

“Wednesday.”

“So, after…” He paused, as though calculating. “After our fight.”

“Yeah. After you accused me of cheating with him.”

Finn sat back on the futon, a bit dazed. He stared at the wall for a long moment, then looked your way. “Was our fight… was that the reason…?”

“No,” you said sadly. “Or maybe. I don’t know. There were a lot of things. I was confused and upset, so I went to dance and Jimin was there…”

Trailing off, you heard the words said out loud and knew how similar they sounded to his. You had been upset and Jimin had been there. The main difference was, after Finn had cheated he’d realized he wanted to stay and you’d realized you needed to go.

Glancing at him, you waited for Finn to speak, but he didn’t.

“I was crying,” you whispered. “Jimin saw me and he asked what was wrong. He was being so nice and I just… I kissed him. I don’t know why.”

Finn slowly closed his eyes.

Now, you were the one waiting desperately for him to speak. “Say something.”

He shook his head. “I don’t… don’t know what to say. Do you want to be with him? Is that what this is about?”

“No, I – well, I don’t know.”

He opened his eyes in disbelief.  “You don’t know?”

“I wanted to come and talk to you,” you said, a bit frantic. “We haven’t talked since Wednesday and I needed to see what you felt.”

“What I felt?” Finn stared. “I felt like I’d fucked up, but I still loved you and wanted us to be together. Now, you’re telling me you don’t want that.”

“It’s not that I don’t want it. It’s just – how?” you blurted. “Finn, you cheated on me. How am I supposed to trust you after this? How are you supposed to trust me?”

His face crumpled a little. “I don’t know,” he said hoarsely. “And please… don’t say that’s all I seem to be able to say.”

You managed to smile, although this disappeared quickly.

“Guess you know me pretty well,” you said quietly.

Finn sat there and stared at the floor for a moment. “Yeah, I guess I do,” he exhaled. “Which is why I have to say… this thing with Jimin. It’s not just a kiss, is it?”

Slowly, you shook your head.

He closed his eyes. “Right. So… what now?”

“I think you know what now.”

Finn leaned back on the futon. “Were you planning on breaking up with me when you came over this morning?”

“I wanted to talk things out with you, Finn. Things have been so bad lately.”

“So, yes.”

“I honestly didn’t know.” You looked at him helplessly. “But after seeing you with her, it all seemed so clear. Finn, what are we doing? We’ve hurt each other so much and we keep on hurting each other.”

“I know.” Miserably, he looked away. “I just… I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Finn.”

Honestly, you weren’t sure if you loved him anymore but seated on this futon, faced with the prospect of not being together, you couldn’t help but reminisce about the past. All the good times you’d spent, the laughter, the kisses and firsts that you’d shared. Finn had meant so much to you at one point. How your relationship ended didn’t change that.

Slowly, he turned, and you saw his eyes were red. “So, is this…” Choking a little, he swallowed. “Are we…?”

Heart breaking, you leaned in and wrapped your arms around him. Something wet landed on your shoulder and you realized he was crying. Hugging Finn tighter, you buried your face in his chest and felt your eyes start to water.

For a long time, you simply held one another and cried. It felt therapeutic, as though everything had changed but for only this moment, you’d found your way back. For a single moment, you let yourself believe the semester had never happened and none of this pain had ever come between you.

It didn’t work completely.

In the back of your mind, your heart continued to ache. The image of Finn with someone else remained and you couldn’t fully erase it. For a moment though, you let yourself play make-believe.

When you left his dorm hours later, you felt utterly exhausted. Finn had tried to convince you to stay longer, but you’d flatly refused. At some point, you needed to draw the line.

Coming to a stop outside Redfield, you stared at the brick archway and realized you wouldn’t see it again. You were single.

For a word which was supposed to feel freeing, it felt oddly heavy. Turning around, you began to walk in the direction of Russet. It didn’t take long to get there, entering Grace Hall and climbing the steps to your room in a numbed haze.

Noelle took one look at you when you entered and immediately shut her laptop. Dimly, you realized you’d forgotten her coffee. You needed to remember to do that tomorrow. Before you could make it two steps inside though, you felt the tears forming.

“Oh, no babe,” said Noelle, descending her ladder. “Don’t cry!”

As you plopped down on the futon, she joined, rubbing your back while you buried your face in your hands.

“I’m sorry,” you said, choking up a little. “I just – Finn…”

“What happened?”

“We… we broke up.”

“Oh, no, babe.”

“Yeah,” you said, wiping your eyes on your sleeve.

“What happened?”

“I…” You hesitated. “He cheated on me.”

“He what?” Noelle rose from the futon. “That crusty, limp lint ball. I will… I will cut off his balls with a rusty spoon!”

“I also kissed Jimin.”

Startled, she turned. “Oh.” Noelle paused. “Well. I’m still going to cut off Finn’s balls.”

Weakly, you laughed. Taking a deep breath, you found the whole story pouring out of you again. Noelle sat down, listening to you speak and nodding encouragingly. Oddly enough, as you told her everything, the weight on your chest seemed to lighten a little.

You’d thought it would be the opposite. This was one of the main reasons you’d kept things inside you for so long, not bothering to tell anyone what you were going through. The idea of burdening others made you feel guilty but talking to your mom had made you realize some truths about yourself.

It was the same thing with Noelle. Seeing her face when you described walking in on Finn and Madison was enough to reinforce you’d made the right decision. She was so livid when you told her, you needed to tug her back to the futon again.

“Okay, but you only kissed Jimin,” she insisted. “You stopped right away! And you know what Finn did? He avoided you for days, decided you were going to break up and then slept with someone else. He kissed her!” she said, arms flailing. “And thought hm, better go in deeper! God, I hate men.”

It hurt to laugh, but you couldn’t help it. Noelle was right. It was ridiculous when she put it like that. Yes, you’d fucked things up but at least you’d tried to fix it. At least you’d been realistic about what had happened. Finn had messed up and just wanted you to forgive him.

“The worst part was he tried to get me to stay,” you whispered, knees curled into your chest. “That really hurt, you know? It was like he didn’t realize how much he wanted me until he’d had someone else. I couldn’t stop thinking… what about the next time? What if every time things got hard, he ran off and stuck his dick in someone else?”

Although Noelle snorted, she shook her head. “He’s dumb, babe. And immature. Men that age always are.”

“I know,” you said quietly, staring at your knees. “But he was my dumb and immature guy. And now… I just feel kind of empty.”

“Ah, Y/N.”

“I know.” Closing your eyes, you shook your head. “It’s stupid, but I keep thinking about all the small things that’ll be different. Like, Finn loves this one video game and I used to send him memes I found on Twitter all the time. Or we were watching this TV show together and now, I’ll have to watch the next season alone. Or Finn won’t text me good morning, or tell me good night and I just…”

“Hey.” Noelle pulled you closer when you began to cry. “It’s okay, babe. Even if he hurt you, even if it was the right decision to break up – you can still be upset about it. You can still love him. Feelings like that don’t go away overnight.”

Weakly, you nodded. You knew Noelle was right but couldn’t help feeling broken. Everyone said the only thing which healed heartbreak was time. It was the only balm to this kind of pain, but on the first day of your breakup, time seemed like such a cruel concept.

“If it makes you feel better,” Noelle offered. “I’ll watch the TV show with you.”

“You don’t even know what it is.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Weakly, you smiled. “You might end up regretting that.”

“I might,” she agreed, smiling as you pulled away.

Standing up from the futon, Noelle went to your minifridge and opened the freezer compartment. “Fuck weigh-ins,” she said, retrieving your ice cream and grabbing two spoons.

You both dug in, taking a large bite of fudge ripple. The treat tasted like sawdust on your tongue – somehow, you didn’t seem to have an appetite.

“I think you did the right thing, for what it’s worth,” Noelle offered.

“Yeah?” you said, taking another scoop. “Then, why does it suck so much?”

“Love sucks.”

“True.”

“He cheated, babe,” she said, a bit gentler.

“Yeah. I think that’s the worst part, though. I can kind of understand why he did.”

“Oh, no.” Noelle clucked her tongue. “Don’t go down that road.”

Weakly, you smiled. “It’s just… Finn was right. I never had time for him. I didn’t really fit in with his Redfield friends. His schedule always took a backseat to mine and I just… I can understand him not feeling like a priority in my life. What kind of girlfriend does that make me?”

“The strong kind.”

When you looked at her, Noelle seemed deadly serious. Lowering her ice cream spoon, she slowly exhaled.

“You’re a woman with ambition, Y/N,” she said quietly. “I won’t lie, that terrifies a lot of men. A lot of guys want their ego stroked and when their self-esteem can’t be fixed by someone else, they’ll blame you. You’re not a bad person for knowing what you want, though. When you find the right guy, he’ll love that about you.”

Immediately, your eyes watered. It was exactly what you’d needed to hear right now. Leaning forward, you hugged her again and silently thanked Russet Academy for pairing you as roommates.

You stayed awake for a while, ordering a pizza which Noelle forced you to eat. As she put on a movie and you settled into the futon, you thought more about Finn and what Noelle had said.

She was right, you knew. Finn didn’t want the kind of woman you’d become. The kind of woman he wanted wasn’t bad – not inherently. He wanted someone who fit into his life, someone who wasn’t defined by their career. Someone who could leave their job at five and spend time with him after.

It was fine to want those things, but it wasn’t okay to place those things on you. Possibly if you’d realized this earlier, none of this would’ve happened. It was pointless to wonder what-if, though. Before you came to Russet, you hadn’t even known this part of yourself existed.

You and Finn had spent two wonderful years together in high school. That wasn’t something you wanted to forget, but things between you were different now. It would be foolish to stay together while trying to ignore the fact that you both walked on different paths.

Somewhere in the middle of the second movie you dozed off and when you woke, you found Noelle turning off the lights and putting things away. Mumbling good night, you climbed into bed and plugged your phone into the wall.

Finn hadn’t texted, for which you were grateful.

Jimin hadn’t either.

Rolling over, you found you couldn’t think about him right now. There was too much to unpack, especially fresh off your breakup with Finn. You’d said things about Jimin you needed to digest, but you couldn’t afford to do that right now.

Right now, all you could do was start to recover.

By Monday morning, you felt like a zombie. Noelle had done her best to distract you over the weekend, but the looming prospect of Monday drained whatever progress you’d made.

It was the closest you’d ever come to being late to class. The second hand was between 7:59 and 8:00 when you and Noelle entered the room. Setting your things down at the barre, you caught Mr. Vlad’s disapproving gaze before he shut the door.

He began to teach pliés and you found yourself falling into the familiar rhythm. All weekend long, you’d dreaded coming to dance because you knew you’d be distracted. In the past, whenever your personal life had fallen apart, this usually had resulted in mistakes in your professional. Not today.

Today, you let the soothing movement drag you under. The repetitive nature of warm-ups gave a much-needed break to your overworked mind. For the first time in days, your eyes didn’t water for unknown reasons. Overwhelmed with gratitude for the momentary peace, you threw yourself into your exercises at center.

When the time came to find your partner, you spotted Jimin for the first time today. He found you first, winding across the room to stand by your side.

He was silent for a moment, then glanced in your direction. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you said softly.

Jimin’s brow furrowed. He searched your face and seemed about to speak, but then Mr. Vlad began to teach. Falling quiet, Jimin learned the steps alongside you. He didn’t say anything more during adagio, but you caught him occasionally looking from the corner of your eye.

Feebly, you hoped you didn’t look too terrible. This was probably a lost cause, given you’d barely glanced in the mirror before leaving. Not that how you looked was a priority right now. It didn’t even crack the top ten, but you couldn’t help wanting Jimin to see you. Your conversation with Finn had been eye-opening in so many ways.

Not least of all was how you felt about Jimin. Finn had asked if you wanted to date him and you’d replied you didn’t know.

Just a week prior, you would’ve blustered your way through a response. You would’ve said of course, not but you would’ve been lying. Something important existed between you, but along with it came a sinking feeling.

Breaking up with Finn had been the most difficult decision you’d ever made. Everything Noelle had said was right – feelings didn’t disappear overnight, no matter how badly you wanted them to. No matter the pain he’d put you through and no matter the pain you’d caused him.

You had a lot you needed to learn before you began dating someone new. You’d thought you’d known what you wanted before and had been proven wrong. It would be equally foolish to think you knew what you wanted right now.

Besides, you had kissed Jimin while still dating Finn. That was a terrible foundation to a new relationship. Your own words came back to you about trusting Finn. He’d cheated on you with Madison and you knew that if you’d stayed, you would have always wondered if he’d do it again.

Maybe Jimin would always think this about you.

The thought made your chest ache since it could’ve been avoided. If you’d done something differently, if you’d been less stubborn and ended things with Finn earlier, you wouldn’t be feeling this way now.

Such thoughts were pointless though because they weren’t what had happened. It was meaningless to wonder what-if because the point was, you hadn’t. You hadn’t ended things earlier. You hadn’t left when Jimin found you that night. You’d made the choices which made the most sense at the time – or in a moment of weakness – and now, you needed to live with the consequences.

At the end of class, you were packing your things when you felt a shadow fall over your bag. Glancing up, you expected to see Jimin and found Sabrina before you.

Surprised, you sat back. You’d nearly forgotten about the conversation you’d overheard in the cafe but now, it all came rushing back. As you straightened, you caught sight of Jimin as he walked out the door and felt your stomach twist.

You had been hoping to catch Jimin after class to tell him – what, exactly?

You didn’t know what you’d wanted to say. You didn’t know what would be appropriate. Should you say you’d broken up with Finn? You didn’t want to give Jimin any kind of false hope. He should at least know you were sorry, though. You were sorry for kissing him, sorry you’d run away and sorry in general for messing things up so badly.

“Hey, Y/N.” Sabrina adjusted her bag. “Can we talk?”

After a moment, you nodded and zipped your bag shut. “Yeah,” you said as you stood. “Yeah, okay.”

Noelle walked past, hovering when she saw you speaking with Sabrina. Her gaze moved between you. “Are you heading back to the dorm, Y/N?”

“In a second,” you said, managing to smile. “I just need to do something first.”

Noelle nodded, but her gaze lingered before she walked away. You couldn’t blame her for her suspicion. Sabrina had been nothing but rude to you the entire year but now, you had a little more insight as to why.

Somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate her. You kept contrasting your last phone call to your mom with the conversation you’d overheard. If Sabrina received that kind of support in her own home, it kind of made sense for her to be the way she was with ballet.

Sabrina turned, leaving the class as you followed. You walked beside her in silence until you reached a secluded part of the hall. Here, Sabrina turned and hesitated when she saw you. The difference was startling; you were so used to the version of Sabrina who was constantly on the defensive.

“Hey,” she repeated.

She didn’t add on, so you arched a brow. “Hey. Don’t take this the wrong way, Sabrina but – what do you want?”

Her upper lip quirked. Just as quickly, her expression smoothed to normalcy. “I thought I saw you on Saturday,” she said bluntly. “Was that you in the coffee shop near Grace?”

You paused, debating whether to lie but deciding it wasn’t worth it.

“Yeah,” you said. “That was me.”

“Did you hear what me and my mom were saying?”

Again, you hesitated but before you could respond, she rolled her eyes. “What am I saying?” Sabrina muttered. “I know you were close enough to overhear.”

Unwittingly, you almost smiled. It was kind of refreshing to hear her speak like this again. Your last interactions had thrown you, making you rethink who Sabrina was. Her bluntness was oddly comforting in its normalcy.

“Well, if you know I overheard, why are you asking?” you shot back. “Look – you don’t need to worry about me telling anyone. I’ll forget what I heard, and we can go back to hating each other. I don’t care about your personal life, Sabrina.”

A flicker of something unknown passed over her face. She nodded, curt and you turned to leave – but then she exhaled.

“Wait,” she said quietly.

Stopping in your tracks, you looked over your shoulder. “What?”

Sabrina made the oddest expression, halfway between regret and disgust. “I wanted to apologize,” she said at last.

Eyes widening, you froze. Seeming to mistake your silence for anger, Sabrina barreled on.

“That’s why I wanted to talk the other day in class,” she admitted. “It’s been bothering me all week what went down on Halloween. I wasn’t in a good place then and I took that out on you. I – I’m sorry about that.”

Finally, you managed to shake yourself free.

“You’re… apologizing? To me?”

“Yes. Listen, this is awkward enough without me having to repeat myself.”

Again, you suppressed a smile. Folding your arms over your chest, you forced a stern expression. “Yeah, well, forgive me if I’m having trouble comprehending,” you said. “You don’t really seem like the apology type.”

“I’m not.”

“Then, why are you now?”

Sabrina exhaled and looked away. “I’m not going to pretend I regret everything that’s happened between us this year,” she said. “Most of it I stand by. But… it wasn’t your fault I snapped at you on Halloween. I was down and I was feeling jealous.”

Your eyes widened. “Jealous? Of me?”

She nodded, then looked back. “I got crappy feedback during the master class and then you came over, inviting me out on Halloween like some pity invitation. I know,” she said, catching your look. “Maybe that’s not what you intended, but that’s what it felt like. And then I was at that party, looking around and… I just realized no one liked me.”

More than anything else, this startled you. You hadn’t seen Sabrina much at the party but hadn’t heard anything negative, so you’d assumed she had a good time.

“I never really thought you’d be worried about something that,” you said cautiously. “Whether people liked you, or not.”

“Most of the time I don’t.” Sabrina paused. “Well. I don’t know. It’s hard,” she admitted, playing with a thread on her bag. “For the most part, I don’t. But sometimes…”

“Sometimes you do,” you finished.

“Yeah.” She nodded. “I know it’s no one’s fault but mine. I’m the one who pushes people away, who refused to help you when you asked. I was the one who left Jimin on read when he said he just wanted to be friends.”

“He… what?” you said, snagging on this thought.

Sabrina rolled her eyes. “You two really need to work through whatever’s going on between you. But anyways,” she continued. “I was going through a lot and… and I just lashed out. You were the one who happened to be closest.”

 “That sucks, but… I get it,” you said.

You really could. It was what you did, after all. You’d done the same thing to Jimin after you got bad feedback at Russet. You’d eventually moved past this as a habit, but you couldn’t fault Sabrina for having the same journey as you.

“Seriously, though.” You tilted your head. “Why are you telling me this? It seems very… out of character for you.”

“I know.” Sabrina considered. “Honestly? I’m not sure. It’d be easier not to, but… then you overheard my conversation with my mom.”

Awkward, you shifted your weight. “Ah.”

Again, you thought you understood. It was difficult to reveal vulnerable parts of yourself. Sometimes it was easier when someone else did it for you.

“So,” you said and then paused. “Is your mom… always like that?”

“Like what?”

“So… intense?”

She gave a bitter smile. “That was her being chill.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.” Sabrina shrugged. “She means well, I guess. My mom raised me alone after my dad left when I was young. She’s the top lawyer in the city, so she has firsthand experience on how to get there.” Here, Sabrina hesitated. “I just don’t think it’s always been the happiest road for her.”

“Probably not,” you admitted.

“I always thought that’s what I wanted,” Sabrina said softly. “To be like her, but with dance. At the top of my field, not needing anyone but myself. Now… I don’t know.”

Knowing this put a lot of things in perspective. Sabrina had been raised to believe she could only rely upon herself. It was no wonder she’d turned you down so many times.

“Well,” you said slowly. “I don’t think anything is set in stone, if that makes you feel better. It’s only the first semester, after all. There’s still plenty of time to make friends if that’s what you want.”

“Yeah.” She paused. “Maybe.”

You hesitated, and then nodded. “I appreciate the apology.”

“No problem.”

Glancing away, you wondered if this was all. While it helped to understand where Sabrina was coming from, you couldn’t imagine having sleepovers with her anytime soon. It was nice of her to apologize, but that was only a first step. You didn’t have much in common.

Except that wasn’t true, you realized. You had a lot in common, possibly more than you’d given yourself credit for. You understood more than you wanted about where she was coming from.

Turning back, you met her gaze. “So, Eamon?”

Her eyebrows shot upwards. “You heard that?”

“Kind of,” you said, offering a guilty smile. “What happened there?”

For the first time, a touch of sadness entered her gaze. “It’s a long story,” Sabrina said, and then hesitated.

You considered, then said, “I have time. Are you heading back to Grace Hall?”

Although Sabrina seemed surprised, she nodded, and you turned around. As you fell into step alongside her, you thought about how weird this all was. Returning to the dorm with Sabrina, talking and not being at each other’s throats.

Maybe you wouldn’t ever be friends, but you appreciated her attempt at an apology. You hadn’t realized how exhausting it was to have an enemy. To be constantly directing negative energy at something you couldn’t control – you had to give Sabrina credit because apologizing took courage. Taking a step forward was always an act of bravery.

As you walked, you felt your gut twist and an unknown voice whispered in your ear. It’d take an equal amount of courage to make things right with Jimin. Steeling yourself as you left the building, you determined you would do just that.

One step at a time, you’d move yourself forward.

Sabrina didn’t stay long, just long enough to explain about Eamon. Apparently, they’d been hooking up at the start of the year but had become something serious. Sabrina had broken it off at her mother’s insistence, but they hooked up again shortly before Halloween. When she’d ended things a second time, Eamon had been understandably frustrated.

It seemed clear Sabrina liked him, but you kept that thought to yourself. She’d either realize this on her own, or you’d eventually get to the point where you could give her a reality check. Once she eventually left, you lounged on your bed and scrolled through your phone.

As odd as the encounter with Sabrina had been, it’d taken your mind off Jimin and Finn for a moment. Now, left alone with your thoughts, you had time to overthink all your actions.

On Sunday, Noelle had made you go through your phone and delete all old conversations with Finn, blocking him on social media so he couldn’t reach out. You’d balked at this but eventually given in. Clearly, you were a creature of habit – it made sense to set physical boundaries.

Oddly though, it hadn’t been difficult not to text Finn today. Maybe because you’d been growing apart for so long. There had been multiple weeks since the start of the semester when you and Finn hadn’t even spoken for days.

Rolling over, you opened your photos and released a sigh. Finally, you began the arduous task you’d been dreading. Although you’d blocked Finn on social media, you’d yet to go through your old albums to delete. It had felt somehow wrong, as though you were ridding yourself of memories you one day might want.

Starting at the beginning of the semester, you began to delete. You found one from the night you’d moved into Russet and another from a walk at sunset along the river. There was one of Finn in his dorm room, pulling a stupid face at the camera. You deleted each one with a heavy heart, moving on to the next grouping and pausing.

Your scrolling had brought you to Halloween night. You found several photos of you, Noelle and Irene dressed as the PowerPuff girls. More from the pregame followed, with you playing flip cup and Jasmine cracking up. There were some from the couch and a few from when Hoseok had stolen your phone – when you scrolled to the next one, you froze.

The shot was candid, not taken by you, although you were in it. Paulo had made you laugh, nearly doubling over while you sat on the sofa. Irene and Jasmine were also in the shot, but it was Jimin who made you stop scrolling.

He was in the photo too, also laughing but his gaze remained focused on you. The look he gave you – it made your breath catch. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked at you like that; like they simply enjoyed seeing you happy.

Suddenly, you threw aside your covers and descended your bed. As you tossed on a coat, you hastily checked the mirror before deciding fuck it, and hurrying out the door. Your coat flapped as you walked, trying to zip this up with one hand.

It was only a block to the boy’s dorm, but it might as well have been across the entire city. Your teeth were chattering by the time you arrived, hurrying into the warmth of the lobby. You took the steps two at a time to Jimin’s floor, hurrying down the hall before you could second-guess yourself.

When you finally reached his doorway, you paused.

Eyes closed, you willed yourself to breathe. You could do this. Completely unconvinced by your lukewarm pep talk, you opened your eyes and forced yourself to knock.

You heard movement inside, saw the handle turn and then Hoseok flung open the door. When he met your gaze, his eyes widened. This fact made you wince, since it was obvious Hoseok knew about the kiss between you and Jimin. Either that, or you looked like an absolute mess. Possibly both.

Staring at you, Hoseok made a noise which sounded like, “Argh.”

Before you could respond, Jimin called out.

“Is that Alex?” he groaned, sounding closer. “Did he break the showerhead again? Because I swear to god, if he –”

Jimin stepped into the doorframe, stopping once he saw you. He stared at you for a moment and Hoseok awkwardly eased himself backwards.

“Uh, I forgot I need to go to the store,” he said, grabbing his coat. Shoving his feet into sneakers, Hoseok grabbed keys from a chair. “Just um, need to grab a few things. Ice cream. Condoms. You know, the usual. Bye, guys!” he said, edging around you. “Have fun!”

Hoseok fairly ran down the hall, his coat flapping behind him.

After a moment, you returned to Jimin. He still hadn’t moved, continuing to stare at you from inside his room.

“Hey,” you said weakly, giving a wave.

His gaze hardened.

“Wait,” you blurted, throwing out a hand in case he shut the door. “Please, Jimin. Just let me explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain, Y/N,” he said, a bit quiet.

“Yes, there is. Can I come in?”

Jimin hesitated, warring with something but finally, he sighed and stepped aside. You nodded your thanks as you passed, stopping inside his room.

It smelled like him. There were the usual dorm smells of plaster and concrete but beneath that was his cologne, his detergent and something unmistakably Jimin. It made your heart clench as you turned around.

Jimin continued to look at you warily.

Seeing him like this tore something within you. It hurt, seeing such blatant mistrust in his gaze. It hurt to stand here and wonder if he was the reason you were single. Deep down, you knew this wasn’t the case, but all the pain mingled and was hard to separate. Looking at him made you feel hurt, yet hopeful; confused, yet still longing.

Broken, you inhaled as you shut your eyes. “Finn and I broke up.”

“You – what?”

You could hear the shock in Jimin’s voice. Shock, confusion – and maybe something else. Something more, which made you long to move closer.

“Yeah,” you continued. “We broke up on Saturday.”

Jimin was quiet for a moment, long enough for you to open your eyes. His expression had softened a little, but not by much. Instead, he cocked his head.

“That’s why you looked so sad in class today,” he said at last.

Apparently, you’d done a worse job of hiding things than you’d thought.

“Yeah,” you said. “That’s why.”

Jimin swallowed and nodded before looking away. He pushed a hand through his hair, leaving several strands ruffled as he lowered his hand. Multiple emotions fled across his expression until at last, he exhaled and looked back.

“How are you?” he said.

It was such a Jimin response, your eyes immediately filled with tears. Of course, with all this between you, his first instinct would be your well-being.

His eyes widened in response. “No – Y/N, no,” Jimin said, rushing forward. Forcing himself to stop, he held himself still. “I didn’t mean to… shit,” he cursed, hanging his head. “Even when I’m mad at you, I just… I don’t want you to be sad, Y/N.”

The simplicity of his statement settled over you, making your heart ache in all its jagged pieces. Jimin was so good. He was so good to you, and you didn’t deserve him.

“Well,” you said with a hiccup. “I’ve been better, but that’s not why I came here.”

“No?”

“I came here to apologize.”

He blinked, but didn’t respond, so you took this as a sign to continue.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” you said in a rush. “I had a boyfriend and no matter how bad things were between us, I shouldn’t have kissed you like that. At the very least, I should’ve stayed when you asked me to talk. I – I’m so sorry, Jimin. Things have gotten so messed up.”

While you were speaking, his expression began to change. No longer did he seem angry, but something within his gaze had changed to uncertainty.

Swallowing hard, Jimin looked away. “It wasn’t your fault, Y/N.”

“No, I –”

“It wasn’t.” He looked back. “I knew you had a boyfriend. I knew it, but it didn’t stop me from feeling something for you. I was the idiot. Of course, the kiss didn’t mean something to you. It wasn’t fair of me to… to expect that from you and –”

“It did, though,” you said, cutting him off.

Jimin paused. “What?”

“The kiss. It meant something to me”

Breathing hitching, he stared at you in confusion. “What are you saying, Y/N?”

“I’m saying kissing you wasn’t about Finn,” you whispered, wrapping both arms around your waist. “I didn’t kiss you because Finn and I were fighting. I kissed you because I wanted to. Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. Because I’d been wondering for weeks what it would be like. That’s why I kissed you, Jimin.”

Staring at you, his expression turned wondering.

“He was cheating on me,” you said, wanting him to know the whole truth. “That’s what I found when I went to see him on Saturday. My boyfriend was cheating on me.”

At this, his face hardened. “He’s… a fucking idiot,” Jimin said, low and intense. “What was he thinking, cheating on you? I swear, I’ll–”

“I cheated on him too, though.”

Jimin stopped talking.

He stared at you for a moment, and something within him seemed to falter. In that moment, you knew he understood. The kiss had been a mistake. You had been in the wrong and still, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it. Neither of you did.

“That was different,” he said at last.

“Was it?” you said. “I think Finn and I have been drifting apart for a while now. Maybe if I had ended things earlier, things would’ve been better. I don’t know.”

“Maybe,” he allowed. “But you can’t blame yourself for that, Y/N.”

“I think I can a little. I didn’t want to admit we were growing apart. I couldn’t see things were over between us because there wasn’t some big, glaring reason.”

“That’s hard for anyone to do, though.”

“It wasn’t for you,” you pointed out. “You broke up with your ex before college.”

“That was different. We weren’t in love. You loved Finn – or you did at one point.”

Slowly, you nodded. “I did.”

“And now?” The look he gave you was cryptic. “Are you saying things between you are truly over?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “Things haven’t worked for a long time. I just didn’t want to see it.”

Jimin stared at you a moment, then his face gradually fell.

“I hate seeing you like this,” he said.

“Like a mess?”

“No. Sad.”

Staring at Jimin, your breath caught in your throat. The way he was looking at you made your heart ache and for a moment, you let yourself imagine a different reality. One where you’d never become enemies and instead, all the passion between you had been put into your friendship. Maybe even more than that.

At some point, Finn had looked at you the way Jimin did now. You just couldn’t remember the last time he had.

Even so, the fact that you’d compared Jimin to Finn in the same sentence was exactly the reason you needed to say what you did next.

“I’m not confessing to you,” you whispered, before you could stop yourself.

His expression flickered. “I didn’t think you were.”

“It’s just…” Trailing off, you shut your eyes. “I’m still hurting, Jimin. I might not be in love with Finn anymore, but I still love him. I don’t want to start a new relationship and have it become a mistake.”

“So. A new relationship would be a mistake?”

“It would be,” you said, opening your eyes. “At least, it would be right now. Finn and I broke up barely two days ago. I’m still hurt and confused and it just… I don’t want to mess anything up by diving into something else.”

Jimin looked at you intently, seeming to understand what you wouldn’t say. You couldn’t be with him until you’d moved on from Finn.

As intense as your feelings for Jimin were, it would be a mistake to start dating right now. The embers of your previous relationship still burned and if you entered something now with Jimin, he would always exist in the shadow of Finn.

If you wanted a chance at happiness – a real chance – you needed to give yourself some time to heal.

“I get it,” Jimin said, however quiet. “You should take your time.”

“Okay,” you said.

You stood there a moment, the silence lengthening between you but not in a bad way. It felt like a new kind of moment – one where you looked at Jimin and for the first time, saw possibilities and not only regrets.

“That’s all I came here to say,” you said softly. “I just wanted to tell you –”

“Y/N?” he said, interrupting.

Blinking, you stopped. “Yeah?”

Meeting your gaze, Jimin kept his own steady. “When you’re ready,” he said quietly. “You’ll tell me. Right?”

Thrown, you stared at him a moment. Finally, you nodded.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’ll tell you.”

Jimin smiled. You stood there another moment before realizing there was nothing more to say. You’d apologized and he’d apologized. He knew you were single, but you needed more time. You’d tell him once your heart became available again.

Saying goodbye, you left Jimin’s room and when you entered the hall, you felt completely unburdened for the first time in months. This sadness still lingered, a heaviness in your heart from everything which had happened but for the first time in ages, the future felt open.

As you exited the building, you came to a stop on the sidewalk and took a deep breath. The inky sky above you was full of city light and beyond that, were the stars.

When you inhaled, the air burned your lungs but somehow, this provided the clarity you needed. Winter could be like that. It was painful, withering away dead things, but it also made way for new growth to come.

Smiling faintly to yourself, you began to walk home.

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading 😊 WE ARE ALMOST DONE! Only the Epilogue remains! New chapters of Raise the Barre will be posted weekly; dates are listed on the series Master List. Requests for updates will be deleted.

RAISE THE BARRE MASTERLIST

© kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[yellowsuitcase]

Prophecy Problems // Draco Malfoy

Request from @lovecatsnotpeople

A/N: For this imagine, please pretend Hermione becomes the Minister of Magic much sooner than 2019, lol.

Summary: Draco is Y/N’s boss and she comes to him after she makes a mistake. He gets angry.

Warning(s): SMUT, Unprotected sex, choking, rough sex, slight voyeurism (but not really)

Word Count: 4k

Y/N walked through the hallways of the Ministry with guilt sitting heavy in her gut. She knew her boss would be angry at her, there was no doubt about it. To say she had fucked up was an understatement. Since she was the Keeper of the Hall of Prophecy, she had done her daily rounds that morning. However, when she was leaving, she noticed a new prophecy waiting to be placed on an open stand. Disaster struck when she picked it up and read the name on the tag. She was so unprepared to see that name on the paper and thus dropped the orb. When the sound of it shattering reached her ears, Y/N knew she was done for. The silvery smoke circled around her feet and then was reduced to white ashes. Once she processed what she had done, she sprinted out of the hall quicker than she ever thought possible of herself.

And now Y/N stood outside her boss’s door. It looked more daunting than ever. She adjusted her brown suede skirt, clenched her hands, and inhaled deeply. Slowly, she raised her fist and knocked on the wooden door. “Come in,” said a firm voice. 

Y/N turned the door handle and stepped one foot into the room, but before she was entirely through the archway, her eye caught sight of the plaque on the wall. Draco Malfoy, Head of the Department of Mysteries. Her heart began to pound. She’d only been in this office a handful of times, despite wishing she could visit more often. It was a spacious room filled with white and black decor. The walls were a stark white, making the black picture frames and tapestries stand out. To her left were a coat hanger and stand-alone closet. In the back corner sat a tall plant in a silver pot; it had orange flowers sprouting from it. The floor was covered with the same stone from the hallway, but there was a large emerald rug with intricate details in this office. And in the center of the room was Draco, sitting at his desk. It was littered with parchment as well as empty chocolate frog boxes. The man himself was tossing a green apple up into the air and letting it fall back into his hand. He looked to be in a good mood. He caught the apple in his firm grasp, the veins in his hand becoming visible, and set it down on the cedar desk. He looked up at her with interest in his eyes. But that soon faded when he noticed the remorseful look upon her face.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” he said curiously. “What brings you to my office?” he asked as Y/N closed the door behind her; she still hadn’t made eye contact with him. She was already terrified of what his reaction to her news would be, and it didn’t help that he was quite possibly the most attractive man in the building. “Well, you’re my boss, so I have to report to you if something ever goes wrong,” she replied, cutting to the chase. 

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Has something gone awry?” he questioned while gesturing to the leather-clad chair in front of him. Y/N gulped, stepped forward. She scanned Draco up and down while still avoiding eye contact. He looked particularly striking today. His hair was perfectly styled. The wispy bangs on his forehead appeared soft. He was wearing a long black jacket as well as a button-up paired with a green tie. The chandelier in his office provided perfect lighting; his skin was almost glowing. His legs were spread to provide support for his elbows. Y/N couldn’t help but steal a glance at his bulge, wondering if the rumors were true about Draco’s size. Of course, she couldn’t tell just by looking. She felt ashamed of herself and averted her eyes as she took a reluctant seat.

“I’m afraid so,” she answered once she was settled. She then began to pick at some loose thread on the seams of the chair, her nerves getting the best of her.

“Quit picking. You’ll pull out the entire stitching,” Draco ordered sternly. Y/N’s hand immediately released the thread and found a new place on top of her lap. She was growing more anxious by the second, and Draco’s irritation was increasing. Y/N gulped before finally making eye contact with the man. He was looking at her intently, expectantly almost. His hands were clasped underneath his chin as he stared at her. Y/N decided to spit it out.

“I was doing my rounds this morning, and there was a new prophecy, and I accidentally dropped it, and it broke,” she said quickly, her words mushing together. Draco smiled at her and separated his hands. “That’s not the end of the world, Y/N, you know that,” he assured. “Whose was it? We’ll send them an owl to inform them of the accident,” he said as he sat up in his chair. It was clear Draco didn’t understand the gravity of the situation as he picked up the apple again and took a bite out of it. Y/N took a deep breath before responding. “It was Hermione Granger’s.”

Draco stopped moving, a stoic expression fell over his face. Y/N watched as his eyes grew dark. He stood up from his chair, walked over to the bin, spat out his food, and tossed the apple in with it. Y/N looked down, feeling sick to her stomach. She heard him coming towards her. His feet came into view; they were right in front of hers. “Stand up,” he commanded. Y/N gripped the arms of the chair and hoisted herself to a standing position. She stared intently at the smudge on her glossy black flats as fear began to stir in her chest. “Look at me,” Draco said quietly. Y/N didn’t move an inch; she was too afraid. 

“You’re telling me you dropped the Minister’s prophecy? Is that correct?” Draco asked. Y/N could feel his breath on her face; she nodded solemnly. “You do realize I’ll have to take the blame for your fuck up, don’t you?” he asked, his tone sharp. “She’ll be angry, hell, she’s hardly forgiven me for our time at Hogwarts, she’s not going to be happy to hear her prophecy was smashed to smithereens, is she Y/N?” Draco asked condescendingly; he was raising his voice now. Y/N shook her head. 

“That’s what I thought,” he snapped. He stormed over to his desk and ran his hands through his hair. Y/N’s curiosity got the better of her, and she spared a glance up at him. He was positively fuming; she wouldn’t have been surprised to see steam bursting from his ears. 

Draco breathed heavily as he shuffled through papers on his desk. “Fuck!” he yelled, making Y/N jump. The man reached for his neck, roughly loosened his tie, and yanked it over his head. Y/N felt her skin turn hot; she averted her eyes back to the floor. “Bloody hell, Y/N. If I lose my job for this, you’re coming down with me,” he shouted. Y/N flinched at his words. Suddenly, his hand was on her face, her heart stopped. 

“Look at me,” Draco growled as he forced her chin upwards. His face was tight, and his teeth were bared. Even though fear coursed through Y/N’s veins, she couldn’t resist a peek at his tempting lips. Draco tightened his grip on her jaw. “You think I’m stupid, don’t you? I’ve seen you looking at me.” Y/N held her breath. She stared into Draco’s eyes, where once they held anger, they now held lust. “Every day in the hallways, I see you. I see you looking me up and down. I notice how your eyes linger, Y/N,” Draco said as he began trailing his hand down her face and onto her neck. He applied light pressure, just enough to send a pleasant buzz through her body. 

“Frankly, I find it flattering, almost endearing. But, darling, let me ask you this…” Draco trailed off. His left hand remained around Y/N’s neck while his right traveled to the small of her back. She breathed heavily as he began to trace small circles on the fabric of her skirt. Suddenly, he pressed his palm flat against her. Y/N felt herself growing lightheaded with desire. Draco chuckled lightly and pushed her hips forward, firmly pinning her against him. Y/N started to gasp, but Draco tightened his grip on her neck, cutting off her airflow. He smiled down at her as she squirmed.

“Are you sure that this is something you want?” he asked in a low, sultry voice. Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine. Draco cocked his head, prompting her to answer. She was unable to speak, so she gingerly nodded her head. Draco smirked. “Is that so?” his face turned dark, “then prove it,” he whispered. He released his hold on her neck, and Y/N jumped into action, smashing her lips against his. Draco smiled into the kiss and slipped his tongue inside Y/N’s mouth, where he gently began to swirl it around hers. Y/N couldn’t help but let out a soft moan as Draco then began to suck on her tongue. Y/N pressed her thighs together and felt her wetness growing.

Draco pulled away to look at the woman in front of him. Her cheeks were flushed, and her white shirt had been drawn up, revealing her stomach. Draco put his hands on her cheeks and pulled her close to kiss her swollen lips. He nibbled on her upper lip before pushing away and spinning Y/N around so that her butt was pressed against the front of his desk. He smirked at her before crouching down to his knees. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as Draco pushed her shirt farther up her torso. He sensed Y/N’s eyes on him but paid her no mind. Swiftly, he took out his wand and cast a quick, locking spell on the door. He turned back to Y/N and gently kissed her stomach while simultaneously gripping her thighs underneath her skirt, preventing her from rubbing her thighs together like she had been doing previously. 

“Draco,” she mewled. The man pulled away from her immediately and glared up at her. Even though she was looking down on him, his next words still made her falter. “Call me, sir,” he whispered. Y/N shuddered as she felt his breath fan over her stomach. Draco kissed her again, this time taking some of her skin into his mouth, biting and sucking softly. When he released her, there was a red mark beginning to form next to her bellybutton. Draco kept a firm grip on her thighs as he pressed a kiss to her lower abdomen through her skirt. It had a little corset in the front instead of a zipper or button. He considered untying it but figured it would be more fun to have her keep it on. He removed his hands from her thighs and grabbed the hem of her skirt, lifting it over his head. He was now facing her crotch. Y/N was breathing fast above him; he could only imagine the thoughts running through her mind.

Draco hovered his mouth over her inner thighs, teasing her. She attempted to close her legs, trying to create friction, but his hands flew to her knees and gripped them tightly. He then pressed his mouth to her clothed pussy, eliciting a sharp gasp from her lips. He slowly began to lick her through her underwear, making it even damper than it already was. He could tell she was getting impatient because of the way she was pushing her hips upwards, so he took the fabric in between his teeth and yanked it down, revealing her pussy to him. Draco pursed his lips and blew air directly onto her clit. Y/N whined and tried to buck her hips, but Draco’s firm grip kept her pinned to the desk. “Stay still,” he ordered before sticking out his tongue and dragging it down her slit.

Y/N slapped a hand over her mouth to prevent a cry from escaping her. She never thought in a million years she’d be in this position. But there she was, pressed against her boss’s desk and being eaten out by him. His tongue was thrusting in and out of her entrance slowly, steadily. It was making Y/N dizzy. She desperately wanted him to get on with it and slip himself inside her. Alas, Y/N knew Draco. She knew that anything that happened between them would only occur according to his terms. Y/N had no control in Draco’s grasp; that was obvious. And while that aroused her, it also frustrated her to no end. 

Draco continued flicking his tongue within her, but then he added his thumb into the equation. With it, he began to rub her clit, drawing out a long moan from Y/N, whose fingers were squeezing the edge of the desk. She felt her legs begin to tremble, the weight of her body was getting to be too much, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold herself up much longer. Despite the burning in her calves, Y/N held herself still as she felt her climax approaching. “Please, sir,” she pleaded. Draco’s tongue began to speed up while his thumb maintained a consistent pace. The contrast between slow rubbing and fast thrusting brought Y/N to the edge. She clenched her walls and prepared for orgasm, but it never came. At the last second, Draco lifted his thumb off her clit and retracted his tongue, leaving her empty.

Laughing, Draco pulled himself out from under her skirt. He pushed off his knees and stood up, looking into Y/N’s eyes. “Did you really think I’d let you cum?” he asked, an amused look on his face. Y/N stared at him silently; she couldn’t think about anything besides the intense throbbing between her legs. “Lemme let you in on a little secret, darling,” he said while putting his large hand on her neck and pulling her close, “The only time you’re allowed to cum is when you’re wrapped around my cock and begging for it. Understood?” he growled in her ear. His words had a physical effect on Y/N’s body; she could hear her heartbeat in her ears. “Yes, sir,” she mumbled, feeling his hand against her throat. 

“Louder,” he demanded. Y/N swallowed thickly before repeating herself. “Yes, sir, I understand.” Draco tightened his hold on her neck and then abruptly let go. He pushed her to the side and laid his hands on his desk, swiftly brushing off all the papers onto the floor, not caring about the mess. Y/N didn’t waste a moment; she kicked her underwear off her feet and rushed to the end of the desk. Putting her hands on top of it, she jumped up and laid down. Draco cocked an eyebrow; he looked pleasantly surprised by her actions.

“Somebody’s eager,” Draco mused. Y/N let out a whine and arched her back. She wanted him badly. Draco tutted and walked around the desk, where he positioned himself between her legs. He locked eyes with Y/N and maintained contact with her as he took the bottom of her skirt and lifted it up, exposing her bare pussy to the air. Y/N couldn’t help but moan. She was the most aroused she’d ever been in her life. Draco extended his index finger and gently slid it inside her. With his opposite hand, he held her hips down, already anticipating that he’d have to if he didn’t want her to squirm. 

Y/N, with her legs spread and waist held down, was rendered helpless to Draco’s touch. All she could do was moan as he inserted another finger and slowly thrust into her. In between thrusts, he spread his fingers and began to stretch her out. “Sir…” Y/N called quietly. Draco hummed. “What is it, princess?” he asked. 

“I need you,” she replied, feeling Draco insert yet another finger. Y/N clenched down on his digits inside her. When he gave her a particularly hard thrust, she whimpered. Then he grabbed her chin roughly. He held her face in his hand and put his thumb over her lips. She instinctively took it into her mouth and began to suck. Draco smiled and said, “I’m gentle now, but don’t worry darling, I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk tomorrow. How does that sound?”

Y/N groaned and felt a blush rise to her cheeks, painting them red. Draco let go of her face and continued to slide his fingers in and out of her, making sure to go slow. Y/N waited a few more minutes before saying, “Sir, please, I’m ready.” 

“Are you now?” Draco asked, still stretching his fingers within her. Y/N whined and wriggled on the desk, feeling her frustration grow. He wasn’t listening to her. “Yes,” she retorted, letting her annoyance be known through her tone. She gasped when she felt a sharp slap land on her inner thigh. “You’re ready when I say you’re ready,” Draco growled. Y/N gulped and remained silent, letting Draco put a fourth finger inside her. He thrust hard and spread his fingers; the drag of his digits against her walls sent sparks through her body. She could feel her wetness begin to drip, and she felt as though she was going insane with need.

Finally, Draco removed his fingers. He smirked at Y/N as he began to unbutton his pants. She watched as he pushed down his underwear, and his dick sprung free. He rubbed it a few times and aligned the tip with her entrance. Y/N held her breath and bit her lip as he slammed his hips forward, filling her to the hilt. She was hardly able to breathe in as he immediately began to pull out and force himself back in. He set a harsh pace; the desk was shaking underneath them. “Fuck! Don’t stop,” she begged. 

Draco grunted and gripped her hips, pulling them towards him so that they met his with each thrust. Y/N reached for something, anything to hold onto; she needed to ground herself. Draco seemed to take notice of her panic. He let go over her hips, grabbed her thighs, and brought them to his waist. Y/N got the hint and wrapped her legs around his middle, bringing the pair even closer, allowing Draco to pound her even harder. Y/N nearly screamed when he found a deeper spot within her. She noticed Draco had repositioned his hands. They were now pressed to the desk on either side of her head. Y/N reached up and gripped his forearms. This was a mistake. She watched as a vexed expression formed on Draco’s face. In a swift and aggressive motion, he turned his arms out, forcing Y/N to let go of him, and when her hands were in the air, he seized her wrists, pinning them to the desk. Y/N felt butterflies erupt in her stomach. Unknowingly, she clenched down on his cock, making him laugh. He peered at her with a prideful look on his face. “Did you like that, Y/N? Does pinning you to the desk make you wet, hmm?” he cooed tauntingly. Draco stared at her expectantly. When she didn’t reply, he slowed his speed.

Y/N whimpered and jutted her hips, trying to urge him to resume his brutal pace. Draco shook his head. “Answer me, darling, maybe then I’ll make you cum.” Y/N closed her eyes, letting his words sink in. God, he was too much. “Come on, princess, who makes you this soaked? Tell me,” he commanded. Y/N desperately needed to reach her high, so she told him what he wanted to hear. “You, sir.” 

“Who?” Draco asked again while slamming his hips into her.

Y/N gasped and cried out, “You sir, you make me wet!” Draco smirked. “That’s what I thought,” he grunted. To Y/N’s delight, he began to increase his pace. His face was close to hers; she could feel his breath on her face. Then he hit it, her g-spot. Once the head of his cock touched it, she screamed, letting Draco know he’d found it. He released her wrist and instead wrapped his fingers around her neck, forcing her to look at him. Y/N couldn't move her head as he slammed into her, hitting that spot repeatedly. She felt her climax approaching but was unable to warn Draco. All she could do was take it.

But Draco was perceptive; he knew Y/N was nearing her high. “You gonna cum on my cock, darling? Go on then, cum,” he said. And with that, she was pushed over the edge, crying out as she fell. The world seemed to stop spinning; all Y/N could feel was the electricity running through her body. Every one of her muscles was tense as she endured the waves of pleasure. Draco was nearing his end as well. His thrusts were becoming sloppy, and within thirty seconds, he was releasing inside her. His body jerked with pleasure as his cum filled Y/N’s hot pussy. Draco groaned and let his body fall on top of the woman underneath him. 

The pair panted heavily as they came down from their orgasms. When Y/N felt strong enough, she raised a shaky hand to Draco’s face and stroked it softly. He kissed her hand while opening his eyes. “That was incredible,” Y/N breathed, still reeling from what just happened. Draco chuckled lightly. “I’m inclined to agree,” he said. 

They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Y/N felt her blood run cold; she looked at Draco, terror on her face. Her boss, however, looked more relaxed than a sleeping baby. “Just a moment,” he called out. Swiftly, he pushed himself off Y/N, reached under her arms, and picked her up. He walked them over to his chair and sat down, the impact forcing his cock deep inside her. Draco then took out his wand and wordlessly summoned the papers back to the top of his desk. “Come in,” he said calmly as he unlocked the door.

Y/N felt her heart drop. She was sitting on Draco Malfoy’s lap, his dick still inside of her, and he just told whoever is outside his door to come in. As quickly as she could, Y/N ran her fingers through her hair, trying to make it appear as though they had not just had rough intercourse. Just as she was pulling down her shirt, the door opened, and Y/N slapped a soft smile onto her face. When she saw who stood in the doorway, she felt bile rise in her throat. There stood Hermione Granger, the current Minister of Magic. 

“Hey Malfoy, I was just stopping by to tell you that - oh! Y/N, I-I didn’t know you were here,” Hermione stuttered. Despite her apparent confusion, she didn’t ask why Y/N was on Draco’s lap. “Well, anyway, it’s good you’re both here. I was informed that a prophecy came in today with my name on it. Did you see it, Y/N?” she asked. Y/N gulped and nodded. “I did.” Hermione smiled. “Oh good, well, then you must know where it is, right?” she inquired. Draco gripped her waist, but Y/N ignored her boss and answered Hermione. “I do. Why do you ask?” she questioned with a fake smile on her lips. 

“Well, it turns out that it’s not actually my prophecy. See, the Seer was actually talking about someone named Helga Graingle. Apparently, she’s a rather old witch. Or I suppose, was, is the better term. She passed away early this morning,” Hermione told the pair. Draco cleared his throat. “How unfortunate,” he replied. Y/N nodded, “That’s horrible. She didn’t even get to hear her prophecy.”

Hermione sighed. “Yes, I know. It’s a shame. But anyway, I just wanted to let you know about the mix-up. I’ll be on my way now…” she trailed off as her eyes flickered to Y/N’s hips. Obviously, something was up, but the Minister said nothing; she simply nodded her head and slinked out the door, shutting it behind her.

Once she was gone, Y/N let out a sigh of relief. “Merlin,” she muttered. Draco pressed his lips to her neck. “Got lucky, didn’t you, princess?” he taunted. Y/N rolled her eyes and pushed him away lightly. “Shut up, Malfoy.” Draco chuckled and squeezed his arms around her waist. Y/N felt her heart stutter, the things this man did to her.

[imthethot]

Pancakes?

✧ Pairing: Jungkook/Reader

✧ Genre: The fluffiest of fluff

✧ Words: 1,307

✧ Summary: “You slept with my roommate who is notorious for one night stands, and now I’m meant to tell you that the reason you woke up alone is because she had to get to an early class. I should then proceed to get your phone number and tell you that she’ll call in a few days before binning it as soon as you leave, but I never do that so hi, sorry my roommates a jackass. Pancakes?”

✧ A/N: Lmao so like 4 years ago I posted this fic on a blog that doesn’t exist anymore, and I found it hidden in some old files on my laptop yesterday, so here’s a rewrite bc 16 year old me had no business trying to call herself a good writer

If your roommate was designating you as her ‘one-night stand wrangler’, she should at least have the decency to wait until eight thirty to wake you up.

Instead, you’re searching for wherever your phone found home in your sheets last night while answering the quiet two knocks at your bedroom door with a quick, “Yeah, what’s up?”

Your roommate peeks her head in and whispers, “Hey, so, I went out last night and brought a guy home, but I don’t want to-”

Grasping your phone from its hiding place (how did it even get that far under your side pillows?), you squint at the too bright screen and read the time. 7:15.

“Yeah, yeah. I know the drill,” you cut her off.

Glancing at her, you can see the relief on her face. She mutters a thank you before closing your door. The sound of your apartment door shutting follows very quickly after.

You heave a sigh, planting your face in your pillow before letting out a slow groan. You don’t even know why your roommate bothers asking anymore when the routine is like clockwork at this point. Regardless, you throw your covers off your body and get out of bed. You do a quick mirror glance to make sure you’re decent before leaving your room to head to the kitchen.

The clock above the stove tells you it’s 7:20 now, which most likely leaves you with a little over an hour before your roommate’s boy toy from last night emerges. It’s safe to say when he wakes, he’ll have one hell of a hangover, so you start a pot of coffee and grab two aspirin from your medicine cabinet.

Onto food now, you spare a glance in your pantry to spot a box of pancake mix. Almost at the same time, your stomach growls and it seems like your decision is made. Pancakes it is.

You quickly whip up the batter and start pouring it on a hot skillet when the coffee machine beeps to signal it’s finished. Grabbing a mug and filling it, you place the coffee and two aspirins on the counter in front of the stove. Not even a minute later, you hear your roommate’s door open and heavy steps coming towards the kitchen. You grant yourself a little smile while flipping the pancakes – your timing really is impeccable.

The boy from last night turns the corner into the kitchen, and suddenly this morning is different from the so many mornings previous. You actually know this guy. Well… sort of. You have a couple of classes together, but you’ve never spoken to him. Taking in the disheveled boy’s tousled hair and downturned lips, you have to hand it to your roommate – at least she has good taste in men. Your eyes meet his, and you give him a smile.

“Good morning! You probably had quite a bit to drink last night, so the coffee and aspirin are for you.”

The boys gives you a look before speaking.

“Thank you, but sorry I don’t remember you? I could have sworn you were someone else last night. Guess I did have a bit too much last night,” he laughs lightly.

You allow yourself a little laugh too before answering, “No you’re right. You came back with my roommate, not me. She’s a bit notorious for one-night stands, so now I’m supposed to tell you that she left because she has an early class. Then I’m supposed to get your phone number and promise you she’ll call in a few days before binning it as soon as you leave, but I never do that so hey, sorry my roommate’s a jackass. Pancakes?”

The boy – you really should know his name – looks a little bewildered, but you don’t pay it any mind. His reaction is about what you usually get, so you simply flip two pancakes onto a plate before sliding it, a fork, and a syrup bottle in front of him.

He mumbles his thanks again before taking a seat at the counter and begins eating. You give him another smile before starting two more pancakes on the stove. The boy is eating silently while you cook, but you can feel his gaze steadily on your face.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” You glance up at his question and see his eyes still trained on you, eyebrows scrunched.

You can’t help the slight quirk of your lips. “Kind of. We have a couple of classes together – general calculus and statistics, I think. I’m usually second row towards the middle.” You offer your name, and the confusion clears a bit from his face.

“Jungkook,” he supplied back.

“Well, Jungkook, it’s nice to finally meet you. Sorry you’re probably fighting a raging headache during it,” you offer with a little laugh.

Your smile widens when you hear his laugh following yours.

“So, this happens a lot?” Jungkook asks.

You answer with a shrug. “More or less, yeah. Sometimes it’s an easy week and she only does it twice. Sometimes I’m up making a random guy breakfast more days than I’m in class.” Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up a little at that. “Don’t take her leaving personally or anything, she never calls anyone back.”

“And you don’t mind at all? Having to clean up what she brings home?”

You shrug again, flipping the last of the pancakes onto a plate before starting to eat, yourself.

“I mean, it’s not my favorite thing, but it’s not the worst thing. I don’t really mind doing it. I’d rather make them breakfast and tell them what’s up than just tell them to get out and have them wait for a call that’s never going to come. That’s just kind of a shitty thing to do, don’t you think?”

Jungkook is still watching you, but something in his eyes seems to shift. You raise an eyebrow at him, but he just shakes his head.

“Okay then, well I actually do have an early class to get to, and seeing as that my class is at 9, and it is,” you check the time on your phone, “8:30, I should probably get ready to leave. You can stay a little bit longer if you need, but just lock the door on the way out. Oh, and don’t try to steal anything. I’ll know it was you, and we have class, so I know where to find you.”

~

Your classes seem to drag on through the day, but before you know it, you’re turning your key in the door and entering your apartment again. You can hear the tv in the living room going so you know your roommate is home. You shout a greeting to her before shutting the door behind you.

“Hey!” Your roommate returns politely. “Was the guy from this morning pushy or something? You forgot to trash his number.”

You pause in your walking and scrunch your eyebrows. How is Jungkook’s number here? You never asked for it in the first place.

“What? I thought I threw it away before I left?” You call back out to your roommate, feet resuming their path to the kitchen.

“Nope, look on the counter.”

Turning the corner, you see that your roommate’s right. Sitting nicely on the counter right where he ate breakfast, there’s little sticky note with a number on it, signed at the bottom with a “JK”.

Your eyebrows pull together once again. You definitely told Jungkook your roommate wasn’t going to call, so the poor guy was really setting himself up to be upset. You sigh before snagging the note off the countertop, fully intent on throwing it away for real.

Well, that was the plan before your eyes caught a little extra note on the back of the sticky.

‘Thanks for the pancakes. You’re really cute. Call me sometime?’

[scorchviox]

Your Touch[ShigarakixOC]: Chapter 14

Chapter Index

Fear is never something to be proud of or something to bother having on display. Souseiki knew this after years of watching Shigaraki fight the impossible. The man never showed an ounce of fear, not even when all of his limbs were bound and wounded. Only thing he showed was anger and he had enough of that to use for a lifetime. Souseiki however, had enough fears to last her three lifetimes over. One of them stood a block away from where she stood, hiding behind a trash bin. 

Her father stood outside his home doing the most domestic thing, watering the potted plants. She watched the stoic expression of his that she hated so much. Don’t get her wrong, she feared him finding her out while she snooped on the neighbor. Such a discovery wouldn’t go well for her. If the sperm donor were to catch her and found out she was alive, things would go well for him and bad for her. The man would exploit his miraculously alive daughter for fifteen minutes of fame. Souseiki would then have to live the rest of her life as an only daughter to one of the most insufferable humans alive in Japan. 

The faux hero takes his time watering in the dead of night, so Souseiki slides down against the wall behind her and pulls out her phone. It lights up the dark space around her and causes her to squint at the brightness emanating from it. She stared at the screensaver with the text notification obscuring half of it. Regardless of the obstruction, she smiled at the picture. It was of Shigaraki pointing an accusing finger at Kurogiri when he found vegetables finely minced into his curry. 

“Where are you?” read the text.

Scrawled over the message was Shigaraki’s username: Komura.

Souseiki swiped at the screen and sent a reply. “Suffering through a quarter life crisis at the moment. Please visit me within five to seven hours.” 

Three animated dots immediately appeared and so did his reply, “Don’t die.”

That would be the closest thing to affection she could get from Shigaraki, but it was enough to put her at ease. “You too,” she whispered to the air. 

Just as if those words were magic, she heard the water hose turn off in the distance. Souseiki crawled to all fours and peeked her head around the bin just in time to catch a glimpse of the most pathetic man alive walking into his home, but she didn’t move. She allowed minutes to tick by until she was certain neither of her parents would come crawling out of their pit. 

Once satisfied, Souseiki made her way out into the street and jumped the Bakugou household fence. All lights were on upstairs, except for one room. Souseiki smiled to herself as she climbed up to the balcony and eyed the teenager’s room. The blonde was dead asleep and his phone sat charging beside him. 

It was almost too easy.

Ever so slowly, her hands slid the window open and quietly stepped through. She stared at the sleeping boy and smiled. He seemed nicer when he was asleep with a track of drool down his cheek. If only he was like that when he was younger. Souseiki sighed at the memories as she picked up his phone and turned down the brightness. She hovered the screen over his sleeping face before looking back at the screen to see it now unlocked. 

Without a problem, Souseiki found his email app and sure enough he received updates and assignments from UA on there.

Souseiki quickly went to the email settings and input a throwaway email to have all his new incoming emails forwarded to her. Finishing that business, she plugged the phone to charge once again and left the property. 

The miniature adventure felt odd to her. Who knew such a thing would be so easy? Especially for a family like the Bakugous. Anyone would have thought a designer and a model would at the very least have a mediocre security system in order to protect their home. Especially for when their angry dog had fallen asleep. There was nothing though; not even a measly camera at the front door. 

It was rather obvious that they trusted the hero system to protect them to the very end. Maybe they even thought shitty hero Flux next door would rush over if there was as much as a rustle in the trees. 

Such a thought soured the woman’s mood as she walked back to her home. 

Her father wouldn’t move a muscle unless there were cameramen hanging around. The man was as selfish as his wife and deceased boys. Any ounce of recognition he received from the media was his bread and butter, but he never received it by any normal means. All the news surrounding him was thirty percent positive and seventy percent a tragedy, but he didn't care if there were casualties when he was out on duty. As long as the media had his name in the tabloids he was fine with it. 

            On one occasion, he got home from "saving" people from a horrendous flood. What did he do? He used his quirk to create a concrete wall to stop the raging water from going any further inland. Sounds like he did good, right? The news wouldn't tell you what Souseiki heard from her father that night as he bragged to her mother. Flux saw cars, motorists, people on foot desperately yelling at him to wait on them. "I couldn't. Sometimes you have to sacrifice a few to save the masses," is what he had said. Those people were never mentioned. It was just another successful day in the hero world for everyone else.

Flux was part of the problem Shigaraki was fighting against. Heroes weren't heroes. They only wanted the fame and fortune that came with the title. If anything, vigilantes were the only heroes around but they were always labeled as criminals. 

To Souseiki, Shigaraki was a sort of vigilante. He's the one taking the problem into his own hands and correcting the system. If the "symbol of peace" is taken down there will be a throng of heroes exposing themselves. They won't be able to catch up with the work All Might was burdening himself with. The people would know what true evil hides behind the closed doors of the hero society. 

No one would be able to hide behind the great hero's smile anymore.

Souseiki let out a deep breath as she stared up at her old home. She knew about Shigaraki's mission, but she didn't have the conviction to kill anyone. Nor the sheer power. She would help in her own way though. "We can make this world for us," she mumbled to herself, as she gripped her phone tight and began her walk back to Shigaraki and Kurogiri.

Inside her home, Souseiki called out to the two men, but only received one reply, "I'm in the bathroom!" Shouted Shigaraki. "Don't go into the warp gate!"

"What gate?" Souseiki asked, as she stood outside the bathroom door. "I didn't see one coming in."

             All that came as a response was the flushing water and the faucet running. “He probably closed it then,” he mumbled as he opened the door and looked at Souseiki. Shigaraki gave her a once over and raised a brow. “Aren’t you currently having another quarter life crisis?” he asked, gesturing to her empty arms.

Usually, when she mentioned some kind of fractured life crisis it meant it was her monthly leak. Souseiki wasn’t shy about mentioning it, nor was Shigaraki embarrassed to talk about it. “Oh, that...It turned out to be a false alarm so I put off buying pads.”

“That so?” He moved around her and walked up to the bar. “Pour me something will you?” Shigaraki didn’t need to ask twice, Souseiki was quick to move to the opposite side of the bar as he took a seat. “You know I’ve wanted to meet that shithead Stain?” Souseiki nodded her head slowly while she poured his drink, “Kurogiri is fetching him,” he continued as his slender fingers wrapped around the glass. “I was thinking of sending you, but that would be too risky. He may be a hero killer, but I don’t think he’s above hurting someone like you.”

Souseiki tilted her head to the side questioningly, “Like me?”

He took a swig of his drink as he gave an almost obvious shrug. “He’d most likely attack anyone, even if that someone is pretty...like you… if they didn't approach him right.”

Normally, a mind would race to the idea of someone calling them appealing, but Souseiki’s mind stuck to something else. “Are you saying I wouldn’t be able to bring him back? What makes you think I wouldn’t know how to approach a guy like Stain. Apart from that, he seems sensible enough to talk to.”

The blue haired man stared at her incredulously. Such a response left him wondering why she hadn't acknowledged his blatant compliment? Shigaraki was previously left with the impression that women liked to be complimented. She was an outlier. "Are you serious?" He grumbled setting down his drink, "I thought of you. Why would I want you to get hurt?"

"Hurt?" She said in disbelief. "I've been attacked by other villains, chased by a gorgon, and nearly killed by random people after you. I've been hurt, Tomura. I can take going after-”

 "Nothing has happened to you because of me!"

Souseiki turned around and walked out toward him so they were face to face. "Everything has happened to me because of you," she said, putting emphasis on her last word. "I'm not complaining. I'm just asking for a little more credit. All this chasing, finding documents, and perfect quirks or whatever- I don't know what much of this is for but I do it because you ask me to. Ask me not to die like always and I won't. I promise. Just let me do more."

For a fraction of a second there seems to be consideration in his gaze, but that slowly fades as he stands to look down on her. “So you understand you only do what I need you to do? That you do what I ask you to?”

The brunette’s tall stance slowly disintegrates as Shigaraki’s voice obviously grows deeper. She grows smaller and nods as a response. 

“Good,” he says, satisfied with her submissive response. Just as he’s ready to give her a degrading order, a warp gate appears in the common room.  Shigaraki sucks his teeth as they both catch sight of the ominous gate “Go to your room," he says, pushing her in said direction. "Don't come out unless I call for you."

She clicked her tongue and held her gaze firm to the wooden floorboards as she walked to her room. Souseiki scowled at the splitting wood as she silently closed her room’s door behind her. Carefully though, she pressed her ear against the white wooden door and tried to listen in on the conversation down the hall. To her misfortune, everything was muffled. It didn’t matter how hard she pressed against the door either, she couldn’t distinguish a single word. 

“Lame,” she muttered and sank down to the floor. Souseiki huffed out annoyedly and banged her head against the door softly. “So lame,” she said again after a while and pulled her phone out to distract herself. On the bright screen was the email app she hadn’t closed. A new email had showed up from what she guessed was the teacher again. “Don’t they sleep?” she frowned and opened the email to see a graded paper. 

Perfect score.

Souseiki stood up and walked to her desk. She opened her laptop and began a quick search. One she had done on various occasions. How to improve your quirk? By now the first ten pages have been scrolled through and read, so Souseiki skipped to the eleventh. She knew what the doctor said may have some truth, but she also knew that it wasn’t impossible to train it to be better. The problem is there hasn’t been much, or any progress.

The only times she “trains” is when Shigaraki is around and holding something. The brunette is willing to risk his playstation controller or a glass cup, but nothing has happened yet. All that she could continue doing is will her quirk to have a smaller circumference, regardless of the lack of results, and read up on methods to improve her quirk. Preferably methods that don’t involve home recipes. Kurogiri would lecture her if his kitchen was ruined. 

Then she heard it.

 A struggle.

Her legs flexed ready to run to the rescue, but she willed her limbs to remain still. There hadn’t been an order just yet, so she stayed put.

She strained her ears trying to listen in again, but nothing came as she had hoped.There was silence for a while and such ear piercing silence caused Souseiki to break out in a slight sweat. 

“Come on,” she said, anxiety ran through her as she stared at the white door. 

“Souseiki!”

Immediately, Souseiki pushed herself out of her chair and practically flew down the hallway. “I’m coming!” she shouted as she came to a halt. 

On the couch, Shigaraki held a bloodied washcloth to his right shoulder and Kurogiri held one too on the other. “Take that from Kurogiri,” he said and gestured to the man by nodding to his general direction.

Slowly, she made her way over and took the washcloth. “Tomura, you needed me. Why didn’t you call?”

Shigaraki glanced over at her, “I recall your quirk being able to erase quirks not stop people in their tracks. Can you suddenly stop knives now?”

“You’re able to dodge knives well enough,” Souseiki muttered. 

“Thought we made an agreement?” He snapped at her. He knew where she was taking this conversation again and was simply not in the mood for it. 

Souseiki sighed and gave a nod. “Let me go get some gauze.” She stood up and walked to the bathroom where Kurogiri kept the first aid kit. “I did something by the way,” she confessed while walking back to him with the small kit in her arms. 

From his spot on the couch, Shigaraki looked over at her with narrowed eyes. “What?” he asked, thinking of all the concerning things she could do in the little time he was getting mutilated. 

“I went home. Well to the neighbor’s house. Bakugou was one of the contestants at the UA sport’s festival, remember?” Souseiki balanced the first aid kit on the back rest of the couch, “Sit against the arm rest, will you?”

Shigaraki scooted in her direction and faced away from her as he responded, “Didn’t know you were so close with one of those brats.”

“Two of those brats. Midoriya Izuku was…” she trailed off as she took a pair of scissors and cut away at the black fabric to reveal his bloodied shoulders. “I don’t know what they were to be honest. Most I know is that they hung out a lot. Bakugou actually bullied the hell out of that kid.”

“Get on with it, Souseiki.” 

Souseiki clicked her tongue annoyed. He was always ushering her. “I snuck into his house and set his phone to forward his emails to my phone. Thought it would come in handy in the near future or something,” she muttered quietly as she strapped gauze to both his bloodied shoulders. He was quiet and still. Souseiki mentally started preparing herself for a scolding. 

“You did good, Souseiki.”

Hearing this, Souseiki looked at the back of his head with wide eyes rather surprised. Was he okay with this? Was he okay if she only brought back positive responses? “I’m glad,” she smiled and reached hand out. Her slender fingers slowly took a hold of the back of his neck and scratched at the skin in a loving manner. 

Shigaraki leaned his head back into her touch and looked up to her, “That would actually be of some help,” he said and closed his eyes to enjoy the feeling. “Thank you.”

Her heart fluttered at the words. She stared at his screed, closed eyes, then her sight went to his lips. Souseiki’s hands softly gripped either side of his head and in doing so, she leaned down to hover her lips over his. 

She could feel her lips quiver in anticipation. She wanted to kiss him. 

“Shigaraki Tomura,” Kurogiri’s deep voice pierced the air. Suddenly realizing he was still in the room, Souseiki stepped away from their leader quickly and looked at Kurogiri with a bashful expression. “We must go.”

“Gotta watch the grand finale,” Shigaraki groaned and stood up from his spot. “Want to tag along, Souseiki?” The brunette wrung her hands together as she stared at him as he closed his eyes and popped his neck. “Well?”

“Will there be fireworks?”

Shigaraki smirked as a warp gate opened beside them, “Only the best for us.”

Next

[mimiseda]

Title: Just Messin’

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ship: Jake Park x Reader

Genre: Fluff. A lot of it.

Words: 2,696

Note: Created for @sirpeanutthethird Happy Birthday 🎉🎁

. . . .

“Mm..” You’re awake, but your eyes stay closed in hopes of falling back to sleep.

Disoriented as your mind may be, you figured the time may be around four to five in the morning. For some reason, your body is trained to wake up around this time. A good assumption may be from getting ready for your classes at the University you attend. Except.. you don’t have any classes today, until tomorrow that is, which just so happens to be your birthday. Shame it has to be on the day you have school, but you’ll accept that today is your day to kick back and slack off. Hopefully along with your boyfriend, Jake.

Speaking of..

You open your eyes to a dark room, dimly lit by a warm lamp on his side. The first thing you notice is how close you are to him, that and the way he’s holding you. He’s got one arm under you and the other around your shoulder. His palm is cradling the back of your head, feeling a tiny bit ticklish since his fingertips skimmed lightly against your scalp. You don’t mind though, it’s always a good thing to wake up next to someone you love. Others may see his way of snuggling you this close as clingy, but you think you’re just as clingy as he is.

With what little space you have, you lift your head to kiss the flat of his chin. Jake’s breathing stuttered and his body shivered at such a small act of affection. Is he still asleep? Curious, you scoot back to try and get a better look at him. However, every time you move, his hold on you gets suspiciously tighter.

“Uh-“ He doesn’t want to let you go it seems. Time to look at other options instead. Shuffling from your side to your stomach, you try to wiggle out of the sleeping man’s arms into freedom. You only got about halfway down his torso, until he suddenly grabbed you by your underarms and moved you back to where you started. There, you see that the mischievous man is awake. The tiredness on his face did not match his playful attitude.

“You were awake this entire time?” You yell, but quietly.

“Why are you up so late?” Jake completely disregards your question and resumes cuddling you again.

“I just woke up.. what time is it?”

“I dunno. But I’m going back to sleep.”

“Well.” You squirm against his hold again. “I’m gonna check the time. Lemme go.”

“Nope.” Jake says in a heartbeat. “Not gonna sleep without you.”

“I’m gonna be back! .. After I get some water too.”

“You’ll take too long.”

You smile a little. He’s so needy. “I won’t, silly. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Hmm.” His dark brown eyes examine your face. For a lie, you think. Or maybe he’s just considering freeing you from his heinous clutches.

And to your surprise, he actually lets you go. “Then by all means.” Jake covers himself with the blanket you two shared. Taking more than usual for him. You briefly wonder why, but don’t question as you pull away.

As soon as the covers are off of you though, you immediately feel cold air creeping up on your skin.

It’s so unexpected, you cross your arms and shiver down to your core. Why isn’t any source of heat on? Or more alternatively, why is the cold air on? Once you stood up, your feet felt icy even against the carpet floor. “Cold?” You turn to Jake at the sound of his sleepy voice. He’s wearing a smirk that he tried his best to hide.

“Y-yeah.” You look around the room, unsure if you even wanted to go through the cold for just a glass of water.

“Then come lay down with me.” You thought about his offer for a few seconds. Getting back in bed doesn’t seem like a-

Hold up.

Something’s not adding up.

You turn to Jake again, seeing the smirk on his face a little wider than before.

No-

No he did not. “Jake, did you tamper with the thermostat?”

“.. Maybe I did.”

You pout at him. “Whyy?” Shaking your head, you crawl back in bed to avoid freezing to death. “What’s the point??”

“Because I want to.” A very cheeky Jake helps himself and wraps his arms around you again. “And it gets too hot.” You sigh and cave in to the warmth he graciously gave you; wrapping your legs around his, your arms around his torso, and head leaning on his chest again. “This has never been a problem before.” You mumble.

“Well it’s a problem now.” Jake simultaneously pecks your forehead and cheeks, sweet-kissing your annoyance away. He can’t have you mad at him, if he plans to cuddle you into your dreams.

You groan, feeling your face tingling with acceptance at his unapologetic affection. Oh well.. “Jake?”

“Mmhm?”

“I’ll stay in bed, if you get me some water.” You look up at him and smile again. If he wants things to go his way, then he’ll have to do some of your bidding.

Jake hums delightfully at your request though, then readies himself to get up. “That’s a fair trade.”

. . .

The hall is empty.

Except for one.

Jake strolls down the corridor, paper in hand as he tries to read from it. He’s having a hard time making sense of any of it. It’s like his professor compiled the most complex words in the dictionary and shamelessly typed them on this paper. Every time Jake passed by a trash can, he highly considered crumbling up and tossing the worksheet in there. He wanted to forget about the damn thing entirely.

It isn’t a very responsible thing to do though, he thought to himself. He made it this far without anyone criticizing him. Much. He’s probably tired, or maybe he’s just-

Thump, thump, skeeeeet

The hell?

Jake comes to an abrupt stop and turns around, hearing someone running behind him. Last he checked, no one really visits this specific hall. For why? He doesn’t really know, but he assumed it may be because the classes here are rather.. insignificant compared to other courses, although Jake took one of them. This hall contained extracurricular activities that rarely anyone attended: like sewing, graphic design, and just outside of this wing lies a golf court. The students in this school are just like him, learning about the money and the business world to make their parents proud.

“Uh.. hello?” Jake calls out, unable to see who ran. The corridor is narrow, the only way for the person to pass him is if they went into one of the classrooms. That, or in front of him where there’s a turn on his left. All of the classes had their doors shut with barely any noises sounding from them, so it shouldn’t be hard to find the clown, if they toy with him again. Jake looks around one last time, the trash bins, the potted plants, pillars and a few decorations that covered the hall with colorful pride for the University.

He sees no one and turns around to walk again, slowly this time.

The hall is empty.

Except for two, now.

Jake only got so far as five, careful steps until he hears those running footsteps again. He turns, concerned, but done with this. “Alright, you wanna fuck around?” He folds the paper six times and stuffs it into his pocket. With his mind made up, he began to search the hall for any signs of a human being other than him. Any hints of clothing, hair, or even breathing will be useful to him. He’ll deliberately hunt down whoever’s responsible.

.

Your legs ache from kneeling down the trash can too long, but it’s sooo worth it. Suppressing your laughter is way more important right now, especially when you’re hiding from Jake.

Initially, you wanted to find him and have a normal conversation with him, especially since you haven’t seen him since morning. You know he usually comes to this side of the University to either attend one of his classes or study, since it’s almost completely silent. Yes, you being there could mean being a distraction to him.. But all that jazz is thrown out the window once you’ve decided to mess with him for a bit.

So here you are, hiding with a few beads in hand you gathered from an art class in this wing. You won’t throw any at Jake of course, but you’ll use them to bamboozle the ever living hell out of him. You wonder if your boyfriend will eventually think he’s crazy. Perhaps he’ll call you, scared of a ghost and needing you by his side. Although you’ve never seen him scared before, you’re still interested in how this goofy session will turn out. For both you and Jake.

While he looks around for you, you hide behind anything that could obscure you from his vision. He gets closer, hotter. Jake searches a spot where a pillar stands with a big potted plant in front of it. The one you moved, looking out of place. As soon as he turns his back on you, your heart raced with a bit of adrenaline. The thought of Jake finding and catching you made you feel too many rushed feelings at once.

An idea lights in your head to confuse him more. Quickly and quietly before he moves again, you take three beads in your hand and toss them down the corridor. The little noises alerts Jake. He snaps his attention behind him, leaving his current spot to check out where the beads are coming from. You giggle for a split second, then go silent.

Jake reaches the end of the hall, where it turns left towards other classrooms. Once he disappears, you stand up from your hiding place to follow him. You’re not done just yet, you’ll stop at one more throw of beads, then reveal yourself to him as the villain of such tomfoolery.

With your playfulness intact, you kept walking until you reached the end. You see shadows in the light, one unmoving and the other picking up something from the ground. Jake. You hold your breath for a moment, waiting until he moves away from you again. You watch his shadow examine something in his hand, probably the beads you threw. Then, he stands up and disappears along with his shadow.

You start breathing again, relieved that he didn’t walk back to the corridor you’re in. Calming down a little, you move to follow Jake again. You kept going, no longer hearing his footsteps, but you’re determined to find him anyway in this one-way place. When you reached a turn on your right, you leaned against the wall and peeked out from the corner.

“Ah!” You half gasped and squealed like a bird.

Instead of seeing another hall with doors, water fountains, and decorations; maybe Jake walking down the area as well..

He’s right in front of you.

Before you could do anything but chuckle nervously, Jake grabs you by your waist and holds you against the wall. All of the annoyance you previously saw on him is replaced by a slight, mischievous look. “You thought I wouldn’t catch you, huh?”

You bit your lower lip, especially once his hands moved to a much more sensitive spot of your body. It’s hard to push aside your excitement to speak. “H-how’d you know I was- Eee!!” Jake’s fingertips wiggles at your ticklish spot, not too soft or harsh, just enough to get you laughing in front of him. You drop everything, the beads in your hand fall to the ground. “S-st-stop! We’ll get in trouble!”

“Guess you didn’t think about that before throwing those beads.” Jake continues his tickle-fest, following your movements as you try to get away from his hands.

“Okay! Okaay! I-I’m sorry! I’m- oh!!” It was set. It was only a matter of time before you two done something to get you both even more in trouble. Jake accidentally bumped you against a wall, which had artwork of the University’s mascot taped to it. The tape fell and the paper tore a little, creating a sound that echoed the empty hallway. You and Jake stared at each other in shock. It wasn’t until the sound of a doorknob brought him back to his senses. He grabbed your wrist and hurried both of you out of there, before you two got caught.

“Sorry Jake..!” You whisper loud enough for him to hear.

“Shh..” He shushes you, guiding you away from the “crime” scene and towards the more quiet areas of the wing. You two reached the lockers, where only a few of them are occupied. Jake comes to a stop, still holding your wrist as he catches his breath. He eventually chuckles, so light and happy it becomes contagious. You clasped a hand over your mouth, snickering into your palm.

“It wasn’t your fault, it was mine.” Jake says, clearing his throat and needing water from all of that childishness.

You shrug. “I came here to just talk to you, but.. Mm, I dunno what came over me, heh.” You exhale your final, heavy breath. It’s a little hot in here now, but you feel invigorated around your boyfriend.

“I can see that.” He smiles, and you smile too. “I’m glad you’re here, don’t worry. I got something for you too.”

Your eyes widen. “For me? What is it?”

Jake holds up a hand and fishes in his pockets for something. First, he pulls out the folded paper from before, looking at it in sheer disgust. You snort at his reaction and conclude that it may be school work of some kind. About three seconds passes until he pulls something from another pocket: a small, baby blue box. Satisfied, Jake puts the folded paper away, completely forgetting about it. “Here. I made it for you.”

You look at the small box with deep interest. Grabbing it, you held it close and opened it with pure curiosity. There, you see a bracelet, shining in what light the area gave. It’s made of silver, crafted with tiny charms of favorite animals and your favorite colors. One charm resembled food you loved to eat. You couldn’t help but gaze at it in awe, it’s easy to tell how much care and thought was put into it.

“Happy Birthday.” Jake cheers quietly, but fondly. You look up at him, heart swelling with the loving look he gave you.

“Thank you! You made this??” Gently, you pull the bracelet from it’s little home. Jake takes the box from you, appearing sheepish as you immediately clip the piece of jewelry around your wrist. It fits perfectly.

“Yeah. You like it?” He rubs the back of his neck. Truth be told, one of his classes teaches fashion and the history of such. Jake never thought he’d be interested in them, but as it turns out, he’s skilled with his hands at not only outdoorsy activities. He loves crafting and creating things in general.

You blink. Looking at him as if he asked a dumb question. “I love it! Look at it!” You twirl your wrist around, watching the cute charms sway. It’s so adorable, and the fact that it’s made by him makes it a million times better. You’ll cherish this, the jewelry and this moment you have with him. “How long did it take you?” You ask, walking closer to him to hug him tight.

“A week and some change.” Jake pulls you in, hugging you back. “Getting the materials was another thing, but I got them just time for you.” You unconsciously swoon over his words. It’s always nice, having someone think about you so kindly, when you have no idea. Reaching up to his face, you kiss his lips a few times.

“Thank you so much..” Another kiss you two shared. “I love you.” Then another. Jake is a bit flustered at your immense display of affection, but he’s happy nonetheless.

“I love you too. Happy Birthday.”

[nothing-but-dreamy]

ON THE EDGE ~ Pt. 2

Characters: Gavin Reed x fem!Reader; Connor; Hank Anderson;

Warnings: cursing

Words: 2.643

Two days later, yn was back in the DPD. After a quick talk with Gavin and greeting Hank and Connor on her way, she sat in the glass office of Fowler. She was always good with her Captain. There was barely a problem between them. And yet, she was nervous in the way Captain Fowler skimmed through her file. His serious expression made it impossible for her to read him. She could feel Gavin's eyes burning on her back. Beside herself, he was the next in the row of the most nervous people.

"It's good to have you back, yn.", Fowler said and gained her attention back.

"Thanks, Sir. I'm also happy to be back. I've missed this beautiful hellhole."

"I have all the results and I have to admit, everything looks pretty perfect. The test results of your shooting training are amazing and the doc report gives you a go. Then, there's nothing else for me to do than to give you your weapon and badge back. Welcome home.", Fowler said proudly and handed her the mentioned things.

"Thank you, Sir.", yn stood up and took her gun, she had missed the feeling of the typical weight, and the badge. The shiny golden badge was her pride and joy. A sign of her hard work.

As yn took the badge, Fowler held the other side in his hand and waited for yn to look at him, "But, keep it slow. Get to know the new cases. There are some. And look after yourself."

"Of course, Sir.", yn promised and then, she took the badge into her hand. Finally, she was back in the game. Yn left the office and stepped into the middle of the room to raise her badge in the air like a trophy. Everyone was clapping and cheering with applause.

**

Like Captain Fowler had advised, yn took it slow. She returned to her desk opposite Gavin’s. Her desk. The small island in the middle of the DPD where she had her place among all the tough guys. The day after she got her badge back, she sat at her desk, studying some file about a Red Ice case as someone placed something in front of her. It was a small flower pot with a smiling face on it. A small green plant grew out of it.

Yn smiled broadly as she saw this small gift and looked up to see Connor standing next to her desk with a soft smile, “What’s that?”, she asked.

“I saw it this morning on my way to work and thought about you. The smile matches yours. It’s a small welcome back gift.”, Connor explained proudly.

“Oh, thank you. That’s so cute of you! I really like that. This desk missed something green and joyful.”, yn said and took the small flower pot carefully in her hands to take a closer look. Proudly, she raised the plant up to show it to Gavin, “Look, Gavin, what I’ve just got! Isn’t that cute?”

Gavin looked at her sparkling eyes and the broad smile but all he could do was to shoot her a small acknowledging nod, “Yeah, wonderful. I’ll get some coffee.”, he said and stood up.

Yn looked surprised at Gavin who just walked away with a sullen expression. She frowned, wondering at what it was that seemed to have bugged him this time. But then, she just shrugged her shoulders and turned back to Connor who was happy to see her smiling about his gift.

On his way to the kitchen, Gavin threw the greeting card into the next trash bin. Gavin had brought it the day before as he thought it would be a nice idea to give her something for her return but unfortunately, he had no better idea than this card. Since he had entered the DPD, he had searched for the right moment to give her the card. He even had written something in it, it was a quote from one of her most favourite movies. And then, the android had thwarted his plans. There was no way his silly card could keep up with the small plant Connor had given her.

The longer the coffee needed to be done, the more anger rose inside of him. Gavin clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. He had been cool with the android because he had to but this move brought his anger against Connor back. As the coffee was done, Gavin took the cup, turned around and walked through the kitchen. On his way, a young officer bumped into him and let his files fall because of the impact.

“Watch it, stupid prick!”, Gavin grunted angrily.

“S-sorry, Detective.”, the officer said, totally scared and gathered the papers from the ground with shaking hands. Gavin glared at him angrily before he left the kitchen.

“Was that really necessary? You frightened him to death.”, yn asked, crossed her arms and watched her partner sitting down.

“Yes! Now, he knows where his place is!”, Gavin grunted angrily.

Yn looked at him with raised brows. Most of the time, such an outburst was triggered by other things than just a newby who ran into him, “Wow, you’re in a bad mood. What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. Everything’s fucking wonderful! If my mood is bothering you then, why don’t you go somewhere else? No, wait. I'll go. I need some air anyway!”, Gavin said with a fiery glance, stood up, grabbed his jacket and left the DPD without another word.

Shocked and slightly taken aback, yn looked after Gavin.

*

Yn studied some of Gavin’s open files to get back on track with the work. There was one case of prostitution but it was nothing too severe. It was just a girl who tried to come buy in these tough times with all the unemployment. She would be still there later. There was one file that caught yn’s attention. It was a statement from a junky who had snitched on his dealer to get off the hook. As yn read the statement, the name of the dealer: Joseph ‘the Joker’ was so stupid and silly that it burnt itself into her mind.

But the name rang something in the back of her head. Yn searched on her desk, plastered with different files, to find the one case file she had read half an hour before. As she skimmed through the papers, she found the same name, Joseph ‘the Joker’, mentioned again. It was an older statement but yn was sure that these cases had a connection.

“Gavin, where the hell are you?”, yn cursed annoyed. For hours, her partner was MIA. She had tried to call him several times but he never answered. All the messages she sent stayed unanswered. But yn needed someone to talk about the discovery she had made and to get a second thought about it. She let her eyes roam through the office randomly until her eyes landed on the other side of the room. She spotted one very helpful person for such a case.

“Hank, can you look at something?”

“Of course. What is it?”, Hank asked interested. Connor also stood up from his seat and joined them.

Yn sat on top of the free desk with the files in her hand. She gnawed on her lower lip. Somehow, it felt like betrayal that she was discussing this with Hank and Connor instead of Gavin but as she looked back, his desk was still abandoned, “I have three different files. A bunch of different statements. But in all statements, the same name gets mentioned. It’s a Red Ice dealer. I guess it’s just a small-time villain but… something tells me there might be more. Could you check that?”

Hank looked behind her at the abandoned desk and was annoyed that Gavin went away and let yn alone where she was just back after the long enforced break, “Sure, kiddo. Let me see what you have.”

Thirty minutes later, Hank looked up from the files, “You know what, you’re right. This Joseph is some dealer but his district seems to be very small. And I don't think he's the type of guy who's able to 'play' boss. He gets his stuff from someone. Wait a moment, I might have a statement about this guy, too."

"Does Gavin know about the connection?", Connor asked but as yn was about to answer, a loud voice caught all their attention. It was the hooker yn had seen in one of the other case files. Chris walked beside her to bring the woman in chains into a cell.

Yn jumped from Hank's desk as she saw Gavin walking right behind the couple, aiming for his desk. First, yn was mad, he had gone far too long without a word, then she saw his face and hurried over to him, "What the hell happened to you?", she asked, concerned and surprised as she saw the bloody lip and the red color on his cheek, maybe from a slap. Yn guided his chin more into the light to have a better look at his face.

Gavin moved his head out of her grip, "It's nothing. This hooker was a bit … rough as I tried to arrest her."

"You bastard! You tricked me! First, all flirty and then- bang! Some silver!", the prostitute yelled. Chris struggled to keep hold of her as she was about to jump at Gavin.

"Chris, lock her up for fuck saken! And throw the key away!", Gavin yelled and finally, Chris moved her through the DPD. Gavin slumped down on his chair, taking a file to note something.

Yn stood next to his desk with crossed arms, tapping with one foot, "So, wanna talk about this?"

"About what? That I do my job?", Gavin asked and looked up. He saw her glance and felt guilty but then, his eyes landed on Connor and the former anger was back.

"We're partners! You could have answered a call or at least, one fucking message-"

Gavin shot up and stared down at yn who didn't seem to be impressed at all. That was something he liked on her the most, that she never backed off of him, "Sorry, mom! I was busy, okay? Now, excuse me, I have some paperwork to do."

Once again, yn was surprised about this kind of outburst. She stared after him. A sad feeling spreaded through her. During her recovery, all she wanted was to go back to Gavin. To work with him. Now, as she was back, he seemed to be on the edge all the time. She wasn’t sure if it was her fault, that it was still because of the shooting or … if there was something else that Gavin bothered.

"Yn?", a soft, smooth voice pulled her out of her thoughts. Connor stood next to her and offered her a bunch of case files, "Your files. Hank added his one. Is everything alright?", he asked as he saw her glance.

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fucking wonderful. Thanks for the files...and for the help.", yn said and went back to her own desk.

Gavin left the cell area and watched the interaction between yn and Connor. Ice cold anger and fiery rage shot through his veins again. But he knew, he was his own worst enemy. Like always.

As Gavin saw yn sitting at her desk, studying some files, he felt like shit for treating her like this. Of all the people, yn was the last one who deserved his temper tantrums just because he couldn't be honest about his...

He had two options: one, he could tell her the truth or two, he would pull himself together. At the moment, option two was the only thing Gavin had. So, he had to make up for his latest behavior as best as he could.

Yn studied the file Hank had given her. She read the second statement from a guy who said 'Joseph the Joker is ticking drugs in Liberty park' and so on. Obviously, the junky had been on drugs as he had made his statement because yn had to read the same paragraph for the third time to understand what the guy wanted to say. She just started the fourth try as a cup of coffee appeared slowly in her field of view. A well known, tanned hand shoved the cup in front of her.

Without a word, Gavin walked to his own desk to sit down opposite of her. He had seen her observing glance and the one raised brow but she stayed silent. He knew her well enough to know that she tried to ignore him as a punishment. So, he did something he barely does, "I'm sorry for yelling at you. And I'm sorry for not answering the calls and messages. And for...leaving you alone.", Gavin said softly.

Slowly, and somehow disbelieving, yn raised her head to look at her partner. She blinked several times. A soft, lopsided smirk played on Gavin's lips and his green eyes, rimmed by dark shadows, were looking hopefully at her. Yn leant back in her chair and crossed her arms, "Alright, who are you and where's my partner?"

"I'm serious!", Gavin said but still with a smile.

"Me too! Gavin Reed never apologizes. What did he say once? Oh, yeah: "Apologies are for chickens…". And I have seen enough movies to know what is going on. So, tell me, alien from outer space, where's my partner?"

"Okay, I get it. You're mad.", he said and leant back.

"Yes, I'm mad. Just like that, you storm out of here without a word to do- what? Arresting this hooker? I read her file. There's nothing important in her case. Is it because of me? Did I do something wrong? Because, somehow I get the feeling that all this bad-vibe-thing from you is related to me."

Gavin felt how all the color drained slowly from his face. He feared she would notice something but not that fast, "No! No, it was not because of you. Look, this...girl was getting on my nerves, okay? Yes, the case is simple and I guess we let her go anyway but…", Gavin stopped and waited. He didn't need to wait long to get the reaction he hoped for. The sign that she was distracted with his lame excuse.

"But, what?", yn asked impatiently.

"During the last weeks, I tried to arrest her three or four times and each time, she escaped-"

"Oh, bloody hell! It's an ego thing? Seriously?", yn asked and started to laugh.

Gavin raised his shoulders as an apology. Glad that his trick had worked out.

"You will never change, I guess.", yn said, still grinning as she looked down at the file again, "Thanks for the coffee, idiot."

"Always, shorty.", Gavin answered and grinned as he saw her face.

"Don't call me that!", yn said serious.

"Stop calling me 'idiot', then.", Gavin fired back.

"Nope. It suits you perfectly."

"Then, you have your answer.", Gavin grinned. They touched their cups with each other to seal this mini fight as over.

"How's she doing that?", Connor asked as he watched yn and Gavin talking about something before they touched their cups in a silly way. In one moment they were fighting and in the other they seemed to be fine again.

"Who is doing what?", Hank asked, slightly confused, what Connor was talking about.

"Yn and how she's acting with Reed. How long are they partners?"

"Two years, maybe a bit longer. But don't get tricked. They weren't always like this.", Hank said but he raised his hands as he already saw the next question in the android's face, "I will tell you the stories one day but not now. Come on, we have work to do."

[starkeristheendgame]

Tony hadn't been the same since pepper died in a car accident and leaving him with their daughter, morgan. Then everything changed when he and morgan goes to a flower shop and meets florist peter.

I loved this one! Gosh, there were so many ways I wanted to take this. Thank you so much for the prompt, Non! I hope that this satisfies you. I was so tempted to make this a two parter 😅 If you enjoyed this, please consider giving it a reblog! 

TW: Mentions of grief | Grief processing | Allude to depression  SFW

This time of the year always rolls around quicker than he can prepare for it. Her birthday is hard. Their wedding anniversary is harder. But this...The death date...It hits like a freight train, an unstoppable force of grief and nostalgia that if not for Morgan would render him useless. 

As it is, dates outside of Halloween, Christmas and her own birthday don’t really mean much to her at this age, so where he wakes up immediately wanting to go back to sleep for the next week, she wakes up and begins bouncing on his head, shrieking about cereal and flowers. 

“Wh’was ‘ah ‘bout flowers?” he grumbled, rolling away out of the danger zone of her spindly little legs. This was a day of shit-pot luck, though, and no sooner had he settled on his side away from her did a flailing elbow strike him across the temple. 

“Flowers! You left a note on the fridge that said we needed flowers today,” she chirped, planting her tiny hands on his bare shoulder and shaking him with strength no six year old should possess. When his brain had stopped rattling around like a marble in a bean can he grumped and groused his way into sitting upright, rubbing at his temples. 

After Morgan had gone to bed he’d stayed up, drinking the whiskey he’d promised himself he wouldn’t buy and looking at the photographs he’d promised he’d never unbox. It was the same every October 11th, a habit harder to break than being addicted to crack. It left him worse for wear each time, doubling his misery. 

“Alright, bug. Go make yourself cereal. Daddy’s gonna shower and get dressed.” Her bony little heel caught him in the kidney as she scrambled off the bed and he wheezed as he pulled himself upright, staggering into the bathroom. 

Not for the first time, he considered enrolling her in a martial arts class. She could be a champion by the time she was ten, if not just for the fact that all her opponents would be in the accident and emergency room.

He ran the shower too hot and stayed until his skin felt over-hot and numb, and forced himself to dress in a semi-nice shirt and the cleanest pair of jeans he owned. When Pepper was alive he’d always dressed to impress, loving the way she’d tease him or grab him by the shirt to drag him back into the bedroom, but these days the outside world was lucky to see him at all. 

Morgan was on her second bowl of Lucky Charms when he dragged himself downstairs, and she looked at him intensely for a moment. “It’s Mommy’s death birthday, isn’t it?” she asked after a moment and he forced himself to contain the flinch, wandering over to her and soothing a hand over her hair, before he tugged her against his stomach in a hug. 

“It is,” he confirmed roughly. It’d been five years but it was still like rubbing citrus over a fresh wound. He hugged her tighter for a moment, then let her go. “That’s why we have to get flowers today. We have to take them to Mommy’s grave.”

He reached for the lopsided note on the fridge and crumpled it, then threw it in the waste bin. 

Pepper had wanted an ‘environmentally friendly’ burial and had been one of the first people in Manhattan to be buried in a ‘grave pod’, a hemp pod filled with seeds and fertiliser and her body. Over the past five years her burial had birthed a small silver birch tree with a sprinkling of wildflowers at its base. 

The stupid tree made him smile each time he saw it, no matter how much his heart hurt. It was just the type of person she’d been, to do something so out-there and environmentally conscious, even in death. He was smiling now just at the thought of it, a quirk of his lips chased by bitterness as he let Morgan pull him down the street. 

He always let her choose the flower store they went in it, and today she steamrolled other pedestrians out of the way on her mission to reach a gold and blue fronted store that proudly proclaimed itself as The Natural Gallery.

The store front was covered in various bushels and bunches, and even had a small stand full of singular flowers that were clearly left overs or on their way to wilting with a sign say ‘take one and spread some happiness!’

The scent of flora and soil was rich when Morgan yanked him through the doorway, and Tony breathed it in deeply as he looked around. The store’s arrangements inside had been organised like a rainbow, a solid curve of shelves that ran in a horseshoe shape from one wall to the other and behind the service desk. 

Morgan immediately abandoned him to peruse the selection and Tony wandered up to the desk, peering with vague boredom at the unorganised mess that covered the desk as he waited for them to be served. There was a rustle from an open doorway just off to the side, a dull thump, and then what looked to be a teenager came staggering through the open space in a cloud of glitter. 

Tony took a wary step backwards and was prepared to make his excuses to leave when the teenager turned around, and he suddenly found himself utterly disinterested in speaking at all. The young man was a touch on the shorter side but leanly built, with a chiselled face clinging to the last of its baby fat and the most doe-ish set of brown eyes he’d ever seen, shade matching the glitter-dusted mop of curls that sprawled over his temples. 

Pretty. That was the word for it. 

“I knew I heard you guys! Hey, I’m Peter. Sorry about the carnage, it’s a birthday thing,” the young man gasped, shaking off his shirt and bounding up to the desk with energy that could rival Morgan’s. 

“What can I do for you today?” the florist asked, leaning against the counter in a casual pose. Tony noticed for the first time then that he was wearing a women’s style wifebeater, a shirt that proclaimed in glittery pastel letters Nazis deserve to be punched. 

“I uh, I need flowers. For a grave.”

The florist’s cheery face immediately morphed into something softer. Tony hated that so he looked away. Hated the stupid expressions of pity and sympathy that people cast him every time he mentioned Pepper or her death. But when he forced himself to meet Peter’s eye again, it wasn’t exactly pity that he was met with. It was just something...Gentle. 

“Of course. Are there any flowers in particular you know they liked, or any arrangements you had in mind?” the florist was already reaching for a notebook and the sample book as he spoke. Tony glanced over his shoulder to reassure himself that Morgan was still mooning over the pretty flowers, then turned back. 

“Colourful. None of that... Sad, plain crap,” he breathed after a moment, keeping his gaze off to the side. Morgan had found an abandoned flowerhead on the floor and was cradling it carefully in both hands as she waddled towards them. 

“Alright, I think I have an idea for an arrangement. And when are you looking to pick up?” Peter continued, flipping to a blank page in his notebook and immediately beginning to scrawl in slightly messy cursive. 

“Today. Any time.”

The florist seemed surprised, pausing and chewing thoughtfully on his lower lip, but then he nodded and jotted down another note. “I can get something done in half an hour? I’ll just need a $10 deposit, and-- Oh, okay.”

Tony held out his bank card, gaze dropping down to Morgan as she approached the counter. “Take the full cost now,” he instructed blandly as she set the flower down on top of the counter. 

“Mister! This one lost his friends. And his body,” she greeted, pushing the flower across the counter towards the florist, who cast her a warm smile and picked up the flower head with the same careful cradle of his palms. 

“Oh dear, so he has,” he agreed, inspecting the flower carefully. “But that’s okay, because I know of a special job he can do even without a body.”

Morgan appraised him for a long moment before speaking. “Flowers don’t have jobs. They don’t need money,” she informed him seriously, before he turned to look up at her Father with pleading eyes. “Can we get cheeseburgers?”

Weak as he was, he couldn’t deny her anything even when he felt like this, and once the florist had rung up his card and handed him the receipt they left the store and headed to the nearest burger van. 

Morgan chose her customary single cheeseburger with so much ketchup it dripped out of the sides, and they sat down on a nearby bench to people watch as they ate. 

“I think his shirt is right,” she piped up after several bites, and he cast her a weary, wary gaze, reaching out to rub ketchup off her mouth with a napkin. 

“Who’s shirt, bug?”

“The pretty flower man. His shirt said we should punch Nazis. I think it’s right.”

Tony blinked at her and wondered where she’d even learned about Nazis (perhaps he should have paid more attention to the curriculum sheet her elementary had mailed him) before he bit into his own burger, watching passively as a particularly bold pigeon chased after a small, fluffy dog. 

They’d passed almost twenty minutes by the time they threw their wrappers in the bin, and Tony let Morgan tow him along back to The Natural Gallery. 

Peter was ready for them when they stepped inside, despite the fact that they were five minutes early. The young florist was half-hidden behind a large arrangement of colourful flowers that made Tony’s chest constrict when he saw them, and he weakly let go of Morgan’s hand so she could power on ahead to the counter. 

Peter looked over to greet them and seemed to realise that Tony needed a moment, because he immediately began to talk to Morgan about the flowers. 

“The tiny blue ones are called forget-me-nots. Your Daddy didn’t want anything plain, so I used these instead of a flower called baby’s breath, which are tiny white flowers. These big ones are sunflowers, these are roses, and look, here’s the flower you found on the floor!”

Tony forced himself to wander closer. The arrangement was an artful splash of primary colours tied together with what looked like coloured rope, and the slightly rumpled flowerhead had been sewn into the front of the front of the rope, almost like a brooch. 

It was the exact kind of simplistic yet artistic thing that Pepper would have loved, and Tony could feel his throat start to close up the longer he stared at it. 

Peter didn’t do him the indignity of offering any pandering sympathies or well wishes, the energetic florist simply explained the meaning behind the flowers used, explained the rope was hemp dyed with red wine so it was all 100% biodegradable, and gave Morgan a pretty, yellow flower to tuck behind her ear.

Tony left him with a $10 tip for being a ray of sunshine despite the fact that he’d undoubtedly been a prickly, unapproachable customer, and that was the end of it. 

Until a few months later, when Morgan hauled his ass straight back to The Natural Gallery like a greyhound after a rabbit for Pepper’s birthday. 

Her birthdays were probably the ‘easiest’ of all the dreaded dates. It was more nostalgic than painful, and he often passed the day away looking through old memories and thinking of all the birthday plans they never got to do together.

This year, however, Morgan insisted on getting Pepper flowers as a present, and hadn’t even hesitated between the car and her single-minded charge to the florist. Tony was beginning to suspect this was premeditated. 

The store hadn’t changed much since they’d last been here, and the florist was already at the counter with another customer when Morgan barged through the door. 

“Hello again, little Miss. Stark,” he waved at her as she hauled Tony towards a display of pink flowers, and he frowned before remembering his name had been on his bank card and he’d told the florist to hold the arrangement under ‘Tony Stark’. It was painfully obvious Morgan was his daughter, so it was also easy to denote that her name would be Morgan Stark.

Still. The kid had remembered, out of all the names and people he’d seen in the months since.

It didn’t take long for the young man to finish up with the customer, and then the florist stepped around the counter, coming towards them with a broad smile. Tony desperately tried to remember the guy’s name, even as he found himself distracted by the lazy-casual outfit the teen wore. 

His nails were painted purple. 

“Peter! Mommy needs flowers for her birthday!” Morgan shrilled in greeting, and Tony could feel his expression twist. She said it so simply, as if ‘Mommy’ was just at work or home and it made that familiar sinking weight in his chest grow. In front of them Peter’s nose scrunched when he smiled, and he set his hands on his hips in mock thought. 

“Hm, that’s a good present for a birthday! Do you know what flowers Mommy likes best? Or her favourite colours?” The florist - Peter - was just as cheerful as Tony vaguely remembered him being the last time. Tony piped up before Morgan could talk again. 

“Same as last time. Please. Colourful.”

Peter seemed to get it instantly. His cheerful smile took on the softest warmth for a moment, before it became vibrant and lively again as he looked down at Morgan. “I think we can manage that, hm? If your Daddy doesn’t mind you being my assistant for a few minutes?”

“Daddy doesn’t mind,” Morgan answered on his behalf, and Tony found he didn’t have the motivation to argue, standing back and watching and Peter let Morgan pull him all around the store, pointing out every bright and pretty flower she came across. 

Against his own will, something fragile and new began to bloom in his chest. It felt horrifyingly like warmth, like something...Verging on fond.

And it wasn’t entirely for Morgan. 

The florist was a natural with her. He didn’t talk to her like most people talked to young children, infantizing and almost condescending. He listened intently to every word she said and taught her little snippets about each flower she pointed out, letting her touch the petals and letting her tow him around without ever reaching for her first, mindful of the fact that she was not only her own person, but the young child of a stranger.

He allowed himself to briefly imagine what it would have been like if Pepper had lived. If they’d had a son before Morgan, so she could grow up with a doting older brother that would smile at her the same way and indulge her every whim. Another doting family member to wrap around her little her finger. 

“And one for Daddy too!” brought him out of his twisted musings and he looked across the room. Peter stood with a little wicker basket full of orange and red flowers, and Morgan had what looked to be a tulip tucked behind one ear. 

Peter was holding another in his hand, and when he looked up the teen tipped his head a little, arching a brow with a smile that said may I?

He grunted, and while Morgan busied herself with preening in a tiny mirror, Peter crossed the room towards him.

“She’s wonderful. I hope if I ever have children, they turn out like her,” the teen murmured as he reached out and carefully tucked the flower into the breast pocket of Tony’s jacket. This close he smelt like flowers and a refreshing undertone, like clean water. 

There was flower pollen in his hair and his lips were bitten a rosy pink. Freckles dusted the bridge of his nose in the barest hint of colour. 

“She takes after her Mother,” he said it before he could even think about the words, but Peter’s smile remained steady and warm, with none of the usual overly sweet pity he was often met with. 

“She takes after you, too. The perfect mix, I imagine.” And was that... A touch of teasing, maybe? The slightest sparkle in those eyes? Tony shifted under the scrutiny and looked over Peter’s shoulder, back to his daughter. 

He supposed it was true. Morgan had every bit her Mother’s personality, but looks wise she’d taken after him the most. Her dark hair, fair skin and shapely jaw were all his features. 

“She’s better than I am,” he breathed after a moment. She had none of his bitterness, none of his cynical bones. Perhaps it was her youth, but not even losing her Mother had soured her outlook on life. When he looked back Peter was still staring at him, and Tony realised just how close they were still standing. 

Evidently, he wasn’t the only one. 

“Are you gonna kiss ‘im?” Morgan asked from a little way across the shop, and Tony jerked, looking at her in alarm, but Peter simply gave a light chuckle, turning away and moving back towards the counter. 

“Your Daddy is very handsome, but I’ve got to organise these flowers for your Mommy! If I get started, do you think you’ll remember to come back in twenty minutes when they’re ready?” 

Morgan solemnly promised to be back here in exactly, precisely twenty minutes, and immediately demanded that Tony took her to find some juice. Tony held her hand as they walked out of the store, and he frowned down at her. 

“Don’t say things like that again, sweetheart. I’m not going to kiss random people. Especially not on Mommy’s birthday.” It came out perhaps a little sharper than he’d intended, and he bought her an extra juice to make up for the almost hurt way she’d looked up at him afterwards. 

The flowers were just as beautiful as last time. He left Peter with another tip, and tried to ignore how Morgan spent ages telling Pepper’s tree all about the ‘pretty flower boy’ that was ‘her and Daddy’s new best friend’. 

He didn’t have the heart to correct her, and he had the sneaking suspicion that the next time she came with him to get flowers for something, she’d drag him straight back to The Natural Gallery. 

He was half right, as it turned out. Morgan’s apparent adoration for the florist had transferred into a love for flowers, which became a blatant excuse to visit Peter again when it became clear Tony didn’t know anything about plants beyond shoving seeds into the soil of their backyard and hoping for the best. 

“Peter will know!” she announced, after five minutes of the two of them standing helplessly in the plant food aisle of their local gardening store, staring at no less than forty different brands and bottles of plant feed. 

“Honey, he’s just a store florist, he might not know everything about actual horticulture,” Tony tried valiantly, but she would hear none of it, and first thing the next morning she woke him up by kicking him squarely in the middle of the spine and shouting PeterPeterPeter!

Thus, he found himself hobbling gingerly into The Natural Gallery barely an hour after its opening time, grimacing at the early morning sunshine and cradling his coffee, which he’d had to pour into a travel mug because the longer he’d taken to drink it, the darker Morgan’s stare had gotten. 

“Hi! Welcome to-- Tony?” Peter came up short where he’d popped around the corner, looking surprised to see them. It had been less than three weeks since their last visit, and the teen looked the most put-together Tony had ever seen him, far too chipper for this hour. 

Morgan greeted him with a wave that bordered on violent, and she promptly ditched Tony in the doorway to bound up to the counter. 

“We want a pretty garden but Daddy is useless and doesn’t know anything about flowers, so you have to come to our house and help us!”

Tony shot upright then cringed and reached for his back like an old man. 

“Now, hang on. We never said anything about him coming over,” he warned Morgan, casting Peter an apologetic glance as he forced himself to catch up to his runaway child, giving her a stern look when he finally leaned against the counter. Morgan, unperturbed, looked at him like he was a simpleton. 

“How else is he gonna help us plant flowers? Duh, Daddy,” she huffed at him, before she looked back across at Peter. 

“I want pretty flowers like the ones you have. Daddy bought all the seeds and everything but it still looks plain and boring.”

He was almost offended on behalf of his garden. He had a very nice lawn, thank you very much, and the few flowers that had somehow survived with Pepper being there to care for them still came doggedly back every year. 

“Morgan. You know the rules about going to strange people’s houses and inviting strangers home,” he reminded her pointedly, mock flicking her between the eyes. 

“But Peter is our friend, and you said friends are allowed home as long as I ask and you make sure its safe!” Morgan protested, and Peter cooed. 

“Aw, I think you’d be a wonderful friend, Morgan, but your Daddy is right. But! How about I give you and your Daddy some tips to write down for getting a really nice garden, and maybe you can take pictures when it all blooms and come show me?” Peter’s looked up at Tony when he said it, and Tony found he couldn’t do anything except - somehow - smile. 

God, Pepper would have loved this kid. 

It took Peter offering Morgan a freshly bloomed pink lily for her to fully accept the fact that she couldn’t bring her new ‘friend’ home, but eventually she came around to the idea, and Tony found himself in a surprisingly spacious back area of the store, surrounded by various floristry supplies and flower off-cuts and Peter tapped around on a slightly beaten up laptop, showing them different plants that were generally ‘safe bets’ to have in a garden, fertiliser types and the most common downfalls many a hopeful gardener faced when starting out. 

As Morgan leafed intently through one of the many flower-based magazines laying around, Tony forced himself to speak. 

“Sorry. She gets ahead of herself.” He didn’t need to elaborate on what he was referring to, but Peter just cast him a broad, warm smile, and nudged their shoulders together lightly. 

“Don’t apologise. She’s a delight. I almost wish I was her age again. I don’t mind when you guys come here. It makes the day a little bit brighter. Who knows, maybe one day I might even get to see you smile.”

And Peter more or less embodied the smiley face emoticon at the end of the sentence, grinning sunnily at Tony before Morgan thrust a magazine page in his face and demanded to know what flower was being shown in the picture. 

They left with a stack of print-outs and magazines, and as Morgan sat in the car on the way home she looked across at him thoughtfully. 

“Peter is very pretty.” She probably meant it as a question, but it came out so firmly it sounded like a statement. He let the car roll to a stop and side-eyed her warily. 

Was this her first crush? No, it couldn’t be. She was six. Tony hadn’t had his first crush until... Okay, yeah, no. It could very well be her first crush. 

“Do you think so?” he asked after a moment, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. She looked at him like he’d just asked her what 1+1 was, and rolled her eyes before she looked forwards again, apparently not dignifying him with a response. 

The next morning she woke him up right at the strike of six, and not even an hour later he found himself on his knees in the dirt of the garden, diligently rooting around in the dirt to pluck out weeds, rocks and to replace no less than half of the dirt with fertiliser from a big, stinky bag while Morgan dutifully moved each and every critter they came across to safety. 

It took him four hours, but eventually every border of the garden had been re-dug, replanted and soaked through with the garden hose. Tony schlepped off to the shower with a groan, almost regretting the outcome of raw dogging his wife, no matter how good it had felt at the time. 

He lathered himself up thoroughly and felt somewhat more alive by the time he made his way downstairs for another well earned cup of coffee. 

To his both his joy and his dismay, gardening with Morgan became A Thing. Twice a week if it didn’t rain they dragged the hose out of the garage and watered all the grass and tiny little green shoots and once every two weeks they both found themselves kneeling in the dirt to painstakingly weed the soil and make sure their little ‘baby flowers’ as Morgan called them were growing unhindered and healthy. 

Perhaps worst of all, he found himself thinking about Peter each time he tended to the garden or watched Morgan chat excitedly to her teachers and friends about all her new flowers and the pretty flower boy who taught her and her Daddy how to have a nice garden. 

He thought of that sunny smile and those bright eyes, the curls that permanently looked like the kid had just woken up and the random assortment of clothing he seemed to just roll out of bed and throw on. 

He’d had one or two hook ups since Pepper had died. Had briefly tried dating before he’d found he hated the differences too much, hated the lingering cloud of Pepper over each potential relationship, hated the way other kisses tasted like betrayal. Yet here he was, thinking about the lips on a kid he’d met three times. 

Almost three months had passed, and Morgan had dragged him back to the gardening store to see if they had any pretty ornaments they could put in the garden. He turned to ask her if she wanted to bunny or the fox when he realised with a jolt of cold panic that she was no longer at his side. He tried to calm himself and glanced up and down the aisle, but she wasn’t in sight either. 

Alright. Calm. She was probably the next aisle over. She knew not to wander off without telling him, but maybe she’d been distracted or he just hadn’t heard her. He set the ornaments down and jogged to the end of the aisle, stepping around the other one. No Morgan. No Morgan in the one on the opposite end, either. 

“Fuck!” he huffed, spinning on his heel. The checkout desks? Maybe she’d tried to find a toilet-

“Tony!”

He spun on his heels and stared as he spotted Peter trotting towards him, hand in hand with one Morgan Stark, who looked happy but a little meek, especially once she met his eye. 

“Hey, Mr. Stark. I’m so sorry, I was here buying seeds and I turned around and she was right there. She said she was here with you and she saw me walking and wanted to say hello. We came straight back to you, didn’t we, Miss. Stark?” Peter asked, looking down at where Morgan hung off his arm like a guilty koala. 

“Uh huh. Because walking off from Daddy without saying isn’t good and makes him sad.” She evidently repeated from something Peter had said, looking up at the florist before she let go of his hand and bounded across to Tony, clinging to him when he lifted her up. 

“Sorry Daddy. I didn’t want to make you said. I just wanted to see Pretty Peter,” she mumbled into his shoulder. 

Peter’s cheeks were pink when Tony looked across at him again, and there was soil under his pink fingernails and dusted on his shoulders. 

He took in a breath. 

“Well... Maybe I can give Pretty Peter my number. Just so next time you run off because he’s better looking than me, he can call me so I don’t get sad, huh, bug?” he ran a soothing hand down her back when she pulled away to grin and him, and Peter’s cheeks looked like hot coals by the time Tony hesitantly glanced up at him. 

“I’d like that,” the florist beamed at him, shuffling sweetly on the spot. “And, for the record... I think you’re plenty good looking.”

[andawaywego]

Prompt for a bly manor fic: Your take on what happened during the 13 years jamie and dani were together

oh, anon. thank you for this. it killed me, but i managed. obviously i couldn’t include everything, but i tried to go all the way through. hopefully you like it.

                                           ____________________

It’s funny how the ache in her bones, the pull in her muscles, never seems to go away. When she was younger, she’d always thought of love as something that was finite—expiration date on the horizon, creeping closer with every kiss and touch. Something you grow out of rather than old with.

But it’s a different kind of ache with Dani. A pull forward but not away. Not into the empty future or the lonely present, but into Dani’s warmth and her arms and her acceptance.

Two years and here they are.

It’s more than she could have ever known to ask for.

The first morning in their new apartment—the one they found together—Jamie wakes up to the rosy pink light coming through the uncurtained windows. The only blanket they’d managed to find is loose and messy on top of her body and she sighs. Stretches her arms and legs out. That ache is there—that pull—but there’s another ache, also. A different kind.

Sore muscles. Overworked. Tender from strain or else Dani’s tight grip, her nails digging in.

She stares up at the ceiling for a moment, letting the memories of the night before wash over her. There are boxes stacked around them in precarious towers, and she eyes them fondly—looks at DANI BOOKS and SHEETS JAIME; their names written in thick marker on the cardboard, labeling the things they’ve brought with them. But there’s something to seeing them mixed together as they are.

Dani’s things with her things and so on and so forth.

When she turns her head, Dani is there, sleeping peacefully. It’s funny how someone who spends her days frantic with a thousand different emotions for every situation can be so still. Her hair is an absolute mess, tangled and ruffled from Jamie’s hands and the friction of the mattress. Her lips are dark pink, kiss-bruised, and there’s a love bite right beneath her collarbone.

Jamie looks her over. Smiles. Takes a deep breath as her heart and stomach do this...thing.

She wants to pull Dani closer, kiss her awake, because she misses hearing her talk, laugh, seeing her smile. And love isn’t just that pull, it’s longing for the person lying in bed beside you just because she isn’t awake yet.

So she settles for carefully scooting closer and kissing the crown of Dani’s head.

A little later, Dani will wake up and hum a good morning and run her fingers through her hair in an attempt to flatten it and Jamie will be too smitten to do anything but grin.

Another day, she thinks.

And how lucky she is for it.

.

“It really isn’t hurting that bad.”

Jamie unlocks the door to their apartment and steps inside, leaving Dani to close it behind them. She doesn’t answer.

“I mean...three stitches isn’t too terrible, right?”

Their half-made dinner is lying out on the counter still, a pot of water on the stove. Jamie takes it off and dumps it in the sink, then begins cleaning up the rest of it all.

“I can still do things at the shop.” Dani comes over and stands on the other side of the island. “I’m fine.”

Jamie turns away from her, taking a cutting board of a mostly-chopped or else bloodily diced onion to the garbage bin. She tosses it out and feels it as Dani steps closer.

“Are you really trying to give me the cold shoulder?”

Finally, Jamie turns and, throwing the cutting board down on the counter, looks up to meet Dani’s eyes. “Yes,” she says, “I am. I’m angry with you, Dani. Witness me being angry.”

She puts her hands on her hips and an image of her mother in the exact same pose—back before she’d left them—comes immediately to mind. Her arms drop back to her sides.

“It was an accident,” Dani defends. “And a little one at that. The doctor said there shouldn’t be any nerve or muscle damage.”

Jamie’s jaw drops open a little in surprise. “As if that makes it all better!” she says, a petulant twinge in her voice. “You might have been seriously hurt.”

“But I wasn’t.” She’s not yelling—no never—but she’s taken on the same tone she used to use with Miles and Flora when they wouldn’t listen. Jamie resists the urge to shrink under it. “I’m fine.”

“That’s not the point,” Jamie says firmly, eyes wild with agitation. “The point is that you weren’t be careful and you hurt yourself and you don’t even care—”

“It was an accident. It’s not like I meant to do it. Look.” She holds up her left hand to show off her heavily bandaged thumb and forefinger as she wiggles them a little. “It’s not even that big a deal.”

Beneath all that wrapping, Jamie knows that the stitches are there holding together the skin that was sliced apart by the knife Dani was using earlier. Jamie had been on pasta duty and was focused on that when she heard Dani’s quiet, “Oh,” followed by the dropping of the knife and—a little more frantically— a louder, “Crap.”

When she’d turned, all she’d seen was the cutting board covered in bright red droplets and Dani pressing paper towels to her hands over the sink. There’d been a lot of blood and Jamie has never been good with blood so, yes. Fine. Maybe she’d overreacted, but after two hours in the emergency room waiting around for someone to sew her girlfriend back together, that reaction still seems justified.

Dani smiles, trying to make the mood a little lighter, but there is still a sharp edge of panic in Jamie’s chest that hasn’t gone away and it’s making it a little hard to breathe.

“I really don’t know why you’re making this such a big deal,” Dani says, and she doesn’t mean it to come out the way it does—like Jamie is being ridiculous for caring—but it stings all the same.

And that’s when Jamie starts crying.

Really crying. Loud sobs and hot tears and her face buried in her hands as she leans back against the counter and tries to catch her breath.

Almost immediately, there are arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace, rocking her back and forth.

“Oh, Jamie,” Dani whispers against Jamie’s hair. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t mean to...God, I’m such a jerk.”

She presses a kiss to Jamie’s forehead and Jamie wraps her arms around her stomach, curling into Dani’s chest. “No, you’re right. I’m being silly,” she says, her voice cracking a little. “I just...When I saw ya’ standing there like that...and all that blood, I just—I just can’t help imagining what might have happened if it were worse. If…”

In all the time they’ve been together, they haven’t discussed what happened at Bly more than strictly necessary. Those concerns that plagued their every moment at the beginning have fallen to the wayside as they’ve built their life together. But Jamie remembers it—remembers Dani’s worry over how many days they’ll have—and now she can hardly think of anything else.

The next few minutes are filled with Dani’s quiet shushing. Saying, “I’m here,” and, “It’s okay,” while Jamie tries to calm down.

“I’m sorry I’m such a full-time job,” Dani says. “I can’t even...make dinner with you without grievously wounding myself.”

Jamie chuckles wetly against the fabric of Dani’s sweater. “No, you can’t, can you?” she whispers back. “Not sure how you ever got around without me, Poppins.” This gets her a full-on laugh and she grins at the sound, wishing she could hear it forever.

“Me neither,” Dani says. “But you’re here now, right? And so am I. And I’m okay. Temporarily a little less ambidextrous maybe. But okay.”

“You’re a bit of an idiot,” Jamie says without a hint of malice.

“But I’m your idiot,” Dani says and Jamie pulls back enough to tug her in for a kiss.

Dani cups a hand behind Jamie’s neck and deepens it, and Jamie can taste the salt of her own tears, but she just keeps kissing her back.

“I love you,” Dani whispers, pressing the words into Jamie’s lips like she’s trying to make them stay.

Jamie sighs. Kisses Dani again. “I love you, too.”

She’s alive. They both are. And that’s enough, isn’t it?

.

And it is. It’s enough for so long.

Four years in, Dani kisses her awake on Christmas morning saying, “Come on, I wanna give you your presents,” and Jamie is still half-asleep as she’s dragged to their Christmas tree in the living room. It’s a necklace with a lock on it—the kind they’d seen at a shop a few months back and laughed about for hours after, wondering why any man would think it was a good present for a woman. Dani has the one with the key on it and Jamie kisses her as they laugh, sliding her arms around Dani’s waist and practically pushing her onto the rug.

And then there is that golden afternoon with that silly plant Dani brings home a year later. The Claddagh ring and Dani holding her in a vise grip that Jamie won’t understand until much, much later.

After the proposal—after she says yes, that’s enough, yes yes—and she’s wearing her ring, Dani hovers over her in their bed, looking down at Jamie, one arm pressed to the mattress beside her head, the other hand slipping between her legs. Jamie presses her palms to Dani’s bare shoulder blades and sighs, and Dani smiles, her eyes catching the light of the sun peeking through their curtains.

“I love you,” Jamie tells her, pressing her knees to either side of Dani’s hips. “God, I love you so much.”

And Dani stops smiling. The sun leaves her eyes. In its place are tears. One of them slips free and drips down to land on Jamie’s sternum as Dani leans in and presses her face into Jamie’s neck.

Kisses the skin there. Silently sobbing. Her hand still moving a little.

“Dani,” Jamie whispers, clutching her tighter. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

After a moment, Dani pulls herself back up and presses their foreheads together, still crying. Jamie cups her face, rubbing the tears away with her thumbs and kissing Dani’s nose, her eyebrow, her chin. Anywhere she can reach.

And she knows the answer. Knows what it is. Feels it too.

That fear. That terror at the thought of losing one another. It’s ever-present, no matter how good Jamie has gotten at talking around it. It’s still there, and she watches as the what-ifs play in Dani’s eyes.

But Dani doesn’t say that exactly. Not at all, really.

She says: “I’m just really...really happy.”

Jamie doesn’t poke. She doesn’t prod. She just smiles, says, “I am, too,” and kisses Dani again and again.

.

But time moves ever on. It nips at their heels whenever they try to linger, pushing them ever forward.

It goes and goes and with it goes Jamie.

Things are good. They aren’t simple, but they are good.

Dani takes up her every moment, everywhere at once, larger than life with a smile like a sonnet and lips that write love letters everytime they find Jamie’s.

There are photographs around their apartment of the places they’ve gone. New York and California and Paris and Spain. Arms around one another. Grinning with the blue sky spinning over their heads.

Dani is still Dani. She is Jamie’s best friend, her partner, her wife.

They have date nights once a week, so regularly that the staff at all the local restaurants know them by name. Other days, they live domestically. Do laundry together. Cook together. Go to the movies. There are still so many weekends spent in bed, too.

But it slips. More and more each day. If she is Dani one moment, she is her Other the next. And there is still some of Dani inside her Other when this happens, yes, but it is dark and hidden, nothing but the echo of that light.

And yet—

Her smile is still a star in the night sky.

And it stays. At dinners, at New Year’s Party’s, on plane rides and train rides and everywhere they go. Dani here and Dani there and nine years before she cannot ignore the ache, the slice.

Cuts deeper each time. No avoiding it, she thinks. Not in the end.

But it is not the end.

Not yet.

Jamie wakes up in their bed a decade into loving Dani and she is not alone. Dani is lying beside her, hair mussed by fingers and friction. Love bites down her neck. Smiling in her sleep with eyelashes fluttering.

She isn’t surprised anymore by the devotion that runs through her veins, the same devotion that has gripped her all this time.

Dani will wake up soon, like she has every day so far, and there will be morning-breath kisses and breakfast plans scrapped in favor of staying in bed. They will say, “I love you,” on the same breath, at the same moment, and laugh at their timing, touching and knowing and remembering and it will be enough.

They will have that moment.

And there is still time for a hundred more like it.

..

[sxvxrxssnape]

broken crayons and half a peanut butter cracker

snapetober day 28: “what did you do?” / day 25: headache plot what plot? there’s no plot in parenthood

Tentatively, he opened his eyes.

There wasn’t an immediate assault of pain as he blinked through the tired haze still enveloping him, so he figured it was safe to fully open them. Severus sat up, carding lazy fingers through his hair, and glared at the part in his curtains that allowed soft sunlight to filter into his bedroom. 

He had gone to bed last night, suffering, after finding his jar of headache balm both empty and repurposed for inane childish use. He’d immediately binned the idea of staying up to brew a new batch, electing for an early bedtime and a moment of well-deserved peace under cool sheets instead.

It was early, especially for a Sunday morning, but the bright June sun had no qualms against rising as such. He might as well take this time to brew, before the next inevitable headache came. 

Dressing quietly in a pair of trousers and a grey henley, Severus crept out of his room and peered through the door across the hall. He could make out the sprawled-out outline of a toddler fast asleep in their crib, the knitted blanket Minerva had made him only covering a singular foot. He sighed as he made out the rising and falling of a tiny chest and flicked his wand to fix the discarded blanket before closing the door with a gentle click. 

He still wondered how they both ended up here. 

There was a twist in his stomach, a tug on a shard of something sharp in his chest, whenever he thought about Lily. It had only been a couple of months since she had died - since she had been killed, not just at the hands of the Dark Lord, but in a way, also at the hands of himself. 

Taking in the child who had nowhere else to go was the least he could do. 

Jumping off the Astronomy Tower was the other, but Albus had warded the Observation Deck not too long after his breakdown in the circular office and though it irked him that the Headmaster had such little faith in his - admittedly - suicidal potions professor, he should at least know Severus wouldn’t do something quite so. . .dramatic. 

Or maybe he would.

Fine, Albus had a point, but Severus was still allowed to be mad about it.

He grimaced as he walked into a discarded toy, accidentally causing the contraption of colorful plastic to light up and start singing. His wand was still in his hand, so he cast a silencing charm over the boy’s door and flicked the off switch on the activity cube. 

The cube wasn’t the only thing littering the corridor, or the rest of his living space truth be told, and he could feel the remnants of last night’s headache reigniting. He could make out a half dozen jars scattered on the floor as well and scowled as he picked up the one holding something inside. 

If that little brat was playing with expensive potion ingredients, he was going to owl him back to Hogwarts and demand Albus rehome him, no living relatives be damned. 

Instead, he found it full of broken crayons and half a peanut butter cracker. 

On second thought, he might just rehome him anyway.

He stalked into the kitchen and started brewing a pot of coffee, mentally going over the ingredients he would need to brew the much-needed headache balm. The sweet, earthy smell of dark-roasted Columbian beans permeated the air now, so he poured himself a mug and stirred in sugar. 

He shook his head at the choice of mug - a tacky green thing that read “happy holidays” in the worst possible font - and took a long sip. It had been a gift from a first year - and not even one of his own first years at that, but a bloody Hufflepuff who wasn’t even good at potions - but last Christmas had been his first ever as a professor and despite scowling down at the child when handed the gift, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of something whenever he looked at it. 

So yes, he had packed up the stupid mug when term ended and it was time to go.  It wasn’t even the strangest thing he had packed up. This time, he had an orphaned toddler he had been coerced - manipulated, guilt-tripped, asked by the child’s own dead mother, take your bloody pick - into taking with him. 

At least he didn’t have to return to Spinner’s End.

If being handed the keys to a small cottage in Solva was the payment for raising a child, he supposed he could have done worse. Of course, the little house hadn’t been chosen with his comfort in mind, but more with the safety and well being of The Boy Who Lived. 

Oh, Merlin.

He was really doing this, wasn’t he? 

It had been easy when the school year was still ongoing - Minerva and Pomona especially, were keen to take little Harry Potter off his hands whenever he had a class to teach or potions to brew. He had just gotten the hang of walking then and could often be found stumbling through the castle corridors and babbling away to bewildered portraits and students alike. 

Now though? Now it was him and him alone against an almost two-year-old who was insistent on getting into everything and disregarding every boundary Severus had set. He was just like his wretched father, but Minerva had simply laughed at him and insisted that’s just how toddlers were. 

He didn’t  bother to point out she had inadvertently called James Potter a toddler. 

He was too busy freaking out over how his path had led him to this particular point in life. He didn’t know how to be a father - all he had to go off was what not to do, and that largely consisted of not shoving a child down the stairs or drinking himself stupid. 

Severus finished his coffee and set the empty mug aside. He opened a cabinet and began pulling out what he would need, easily settling into the familiar routine of filling the cauldron with water, picking marjoram and peppermint from the windowsill planter, prepping his ingredients, and began brewing.

This wasn’t the first time he’d nearly thought himself into an anxiety attack over Harry’s permanent existence in his life. He didn’t even care how it had happened anymore, all he cared about was keeping the boy alive for the summer.

He’d deal with the the rest of his life part later.

He fished out the steeped bitterroots from the simmering cauldron and moved them to the cutting board, finely chopping up the softened magenta plant. Normally, he would discard them after this step, but he was intent on experimenting this morning in hopes of increasing the potency while also decreasing its unfortunate side effect of putting him to sleep after a few hours.

These days, he needed to be more alert and clear-headed. 

Keeping the bitterroot in should do just that. 

“Let’s see what happens then.”

Severus dropped about half of the chopped bitterroot into the cauldron and watched it carefully, wand at the ready in case the potion had an adverse reaction. The light blue brew was slowly becoming grey and he pursed his lips, adding a few more drops of peppermint oil as an inhibitor and nodded when the potion turned back to blue. 

He turned the flames off and floated the cauldron onto the kitchen table, resting the hot pewter on top of a wayward oven mitt, admiring the ribbons of herb scented steam that curled from the finished potion. Now it just had to cool before he could store it - or test it. 

Setting the cutting board back on the table, he took his assortment of knives and measuring devices to the sink and spelled the tap on. As water ran over the dishes, he began rifling through the refrigerator for anything he could use for breakfast. 

It seemed they needed to make a trip to the local market soon - this afternoon, preferably - and he scowled at the thought. Picking up groceries wouldn’t be such a chore, he thought, if someone didn’t insist on picking up every interesting stone they passed or kept veering off the path to follow the ducks. 

He was holding onto a carton of eggs and was moving aside containers of unlabeled potion ingredients for the last bit of swiss he knew was somewhere, when he heard an excited little yell sound off behind him. 

He peered over his shoulder and dropped the carton of eggs in alarm.

“What are you - get down from there!” he shouted, taking in the scene before him. 

The messy-haired, green-eyed one year old that should still have been asleep was now perched on top of the table - and how the bloody hell had he managed to climb up there?! - and was peering curiously into the waiting cauldron. 

Harry had stepped in the remaining bitterroot and had a tiny fist full of Merlin knows what, and was sprinkling his finds into the cauldron just as he had seen his guardian do many times before. 

Severus whipped out his wand and cast a shield charm on the cauldron as he rushed to the table and picked up the delighted child, moving him out of the way before the potion could potentially explode. 

“What did you do?!” he demanded of the insufferable toddler, setting him down on the farthest possible counter and glaring down at him.

In response, Harry only clapped his hands and tried to peer over his guardian’s shoulder. “Ba!” he squealed, pointing at the cauldron. 

Severus rubbed at his temple, another headache threatening to flare up. How had he been so careless to not listen in for Harry? To leave the cauldron somewhere he could reach - and how had he?! Hadn’t he learned better by now? The boy had been in his care for how long now? Six months altogether? Two weeks out of Hogwarts? And Merlin, what a mistake this was turning out to be.

He rested his forehead against Harry’s for a moment before setting him back down. He had half a mind to floo call Minerva and ask her to take Harry for the day while he brewed a new batch of headache balm and maybe drafted a plan to off himself. 

He returned to the abandoned cauldron and blinked. The potion was still the same shade of blue he had left it. He swirled a stirring stick through it and eyed it carefully, but the balm soon became a muddy brown as he fully incorporated whatever Harry had added. 

He tested a small bit of the potion on the inside of his wrist and hissed as the skin blistered, immediately wiping the ruined potion off on the hem of his shirt. He turned to glare at the toddler and found he had wandered over to the discarded carton of now-broken eggs and was playing with bits of shell, a bit of yolk rubbed into his curls. 

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake.” he sighed, in equal parts amusement and defeat. “What are you doing now?” 

He vanished the eggs, much to the child’s confusion and levitated the spelled-clean, pajama-clad boy into the air. “Come, Mr. Potter, I believe we have breakfast to locate.” He reached over and turned the still running tap off and grabbed the floating child. 

He hoped Minerva wouldn’t mind the company. 

“Nack?”

Severus shook his head, biting back an affectionate grin as he grabbed his cloak and a handful of floo powder. “Yes, you can have a snack.” he confirmed, with a very serious voice, tossing the powder into the grate. 

He draped the cloak over the boy, covering his face, and stepped into the fireplace.  ------ self-indulgent trash where i based baby harry off what my own toddler did? he didnt ruin a headache balm but he definitely decided to drop a handful of odds and ends into my coffee cup so same thing. the egg incident was a nightmare and sev should consider himself lucky that he has magic

anyway, hello, for my birthday today i wrote neurotic dad!snape i might delete bc ik how dumb this was 

[lilmissbeanie]

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Toru Oikawa Angst Word Count ~ 8k I have been writing this for weeks! I am so glad it is finally finished it! It was hard work and heartbreaking. I do have a second version I will be posting which of course it will be a happy ending. Edited 29/12/2020

"Thank you, Toru!" The h/c giggled as she gave him a side hug from her spot next to him at their usual table that the pair always sat at in the cafeteria, in her left hand she held a little paper bag - that he had just handed to her - containing her all-time favourite treat, pineapple mochi. The taller brunette allowed a rare genuine smile to cross his lips as he gazed at her affectionately as he watched the girl do the cute little dance she always did when she got her hands on her favourite treat.  

"Anything for you Y/n-chan." Came the cheerful reply from Oikawa lips, his heart skipping a beat at the look of pure joy spreading across her delicate features, the moan slipped from her lips as the gooey texture coating her tongue as Y/n took the first bite into the mochi. Oikawa bit the inside of his cheek at the sound, a light blush covering his cheeks, god he wished he could be the one causing her to make cute sounds. Images flooded his mind of her under him as she sinfully moaned his name, his hands slipping under her shirt fingertips meeting her soft sink, lips brushing over exposed neck. Oikawa sunk his teeth in his cheek harder dragging him out of his sinful mind, knowing what would happen if he continued to fantasize about her and those cute little noises, pushing the thoughts to the back of his head for later.  

Everyone one could see how in love Toru Oikawa was with Y/n L/n. Everyone but her. She was utterly oblivious to the fact that her childhood friend was head over heels, deeply and madly in love with her.  

On the other side of the table sat the other third-year volleyball players watching the interaction between the pair, they felt terrible for their captain. Usually, they wouldn't care but seeing him pine for his childhood best friend of, well forever, was hard to watch, but at the same time he it was laughable, they had told him over a million times to confess to her, but he would say 'no not yet,’ and shrug them off before running off to find Y/n, like he always did. They were always together; you knew if you wanted to find Oikawa, you would just have to look for Y/n and vice versa.  

"Hey Y/n?" Oikawa nudges her shoulder with his own. Glancing at him quickly, she motioned him to continue with a nod of her head before she nibbled on the pineapple goodness she gently held between her fingers once again. "Ya know that mochi cafe you have been dying to go to?"  

The other three on the other side of the table observed them like hawks, their eyes flickering between the pair, was it finally going to happen? Was Oikawa finally going to tell her?  

"Yea what about it?" She questioned, looking at him with her doe-like eyes.  

"We only have practice in the mornings this weekend, so did you want to go Saturday afternoon?"  

"Sure Toru, I have plans till about four so shall we meet at five, outside the cafe?"  

"Sounds like a plan!" He grinned at her as they threw their rubbish in the bin and headed back towards class before the bell rang. 

The smile had yet to leave "So, are you finally planning on telling her?" Iwaizumi asked as they were tidying up the gym after that day's practice.  

"Yep!" The brunette replied, popping the p. "I don't think there is a better place to tell her that, that I have been in love with her for years other than being surrounded by her favourite treat."  

"Took you long enough," Hanamaki smirked as he tossed the balls into the ball bin. "We're proud of ya, Captain." Matsukawa teased as he finished folding the net as he turned to the other three. Oikawa rolled his eyes at his friends with a smile on his face, he knew they cared in their own way, as they made their way back to the locker rooms to change, so he could meet Y/n.  

Leaning against her shoe locker like he did every evening after volleyball practice, she waited for her to finish band practice. He knew it should have ended a few minutes ago, but Y/n was always the last one out, he was used to waiting for her, not that he minded. As Oikawa leaned against the shoe cubbies, he picked at the dirt that was under his tidy well-kept nails, before he glanced threw his sinfully long eyelashes spotting a few of his fangirls whispering to one another and glancing at him not so slyly. Not one to let his fans down he flashed them his perfect swoon-worthy fake smile, which of course caused the girls to erupt into giddy squeals.  

"Honestly, Toru, stop with the fake smile and give them a real one for a change would ya. You are so handsome, and your genuine smile is swoon worthy and I, personally, love it." Y/n gentle voice reached his ears, sounding as sweet as honey even if she was slightly out of breath, causing his breath to hitch when he turned to where her voice came from. Her cheeks were slightly pink from rushing here and the way the tip of her tongue darted out to wet her lips as she ran a hand threw her unruly h/c hair made him want to gently cup her face, pin her against the lockers and kiss her.   

‘- she loves my smile.’ The thought raced through his head as a bright smile graced her features as she toed on her shoes. "Ya know you don't always have to wait for me." 

"My real smile is saved for a special someone." He replied, giving her that real smile, wondering if she might catch on, "We live next door to each other, you know I will always wait for you." He replied as he brushed a piece of her hair behind her ear like Oikawa always did out of force of habit - one of his many little ways of showing her how much he loved her - he loved the feeling of the soft skin of her cheek under his rough, calloused fingers. 

"Anyway, what kind of gentlemen would I be if I didn't wait for you? It's not safe for a younger lady such as yourself, you know." Oikawa sent her a playful wink, while Y/n just rolled her eyes playfully. "Ready?" Y/n nodded in reply to his question, adjusting the strap of her bag into a better potion on her shoulder.

Oikawa arrived at the cafe fifteen minutes early on Saturday afternoon, and he found a cute little table for them on the small patio out the front, the little cream table had a small plant pot with favourite/flowers starting to bloom, the reason he had chosen this table. He nervously sat there waiting for felt eternity as he played with the good luck charm she had made and gave him before his first official match all those years ago, between his fingers under the table. His head shot up when he heard her soft giggle fill his ears, he could pick out her giggle in any crowd, no matter how big or small, his heart began to beat rapidly as he looked around for her, only to spot her stood a little way away with the third year Shiratorizawa setter, Eita Semi. Oikawa's eyes locked on to the way her eyes crinkled as she laughed at something Semi had said, a smile graced Semi’s face when the pure angelic sound spilled from her lips. 

How did they know each other?  

Why were they spending time together?  

What is their relationship?  

 "Hey, Toru!" Oikawa blinked a couple of times finding the pair standing in front of him, he had been lost in thought with all the questions floating around in his mind in a panic. "You know Semi, right?" 

"I do, Semi good to see you." Oikawa nodded politely at the ash-blond boy; Oikawa didn’t have a problem with the fellow setter; it was just Wakatoshi.  

Semi nodded politely in return to Oikawa, "And you." The two setters stared at each other for a few seconds before Semi turned his attention back to Y/n, his eyes held such a distinct look of adoration as he looked at the h/c girl, Oikawa knew that look it was the exact same gaze, according to the boys, he gave Y/n when he knew she wasn't looking at him.  

"Thanks for today sugar, it was fun." Oikawa frowned at the nickname, why hadn't he thought of that? He had known Y/n his whole life. Their parents have lived next door to each other since before their older siblings had been born, their mums are best friends, and so were they, so how did he not come up with that nickname, especially with that sweet tooth of hers?  

"Thank you, I had fun too." Y/n giggled giving Semi a gentle smile. Oikawa could feel his heart begin to crack as he began to realise, he had missed his shot, the love of his life was with someone else.  

"I'll text you later." Semi brought her into his arms wrapping them around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze before planting a quick peck on her lips. That was the final card, Oikawa's heart shattered into a million pieces as he watched her kiss him back.

Oikawa hated this. He hated how well-matched they were for one another. He felt sick to his stomach as he watched his childhood best friend and her new boyfriend. The Seijoh third years were in the park, and Y/n had asked nicely if she could invite Semi so he can meet them all outside of a volleyball match. The other third years let Oikawa decide, knowing how hard it was going to be seeing the girl he was so deeply in love with was inviting her boyfriend along, to their regular chilled out Sunday afternoons. Oikawa had always had difficulty, more like he couldn’t say no to Y/n.

What he really was not expecting was Y/n to bring her acoustic guitar and the pair of them being able to play. The sight in front of him had jealous flaring threw his veins leaving a bitter taste on his tongue, as he watched Semi's fingers skilfully glide over the strings as he played 'til Kingdom Come by Coldplay with Y/n head resting on his shoulder, the only thing that was keeping Oikawa from lashing out at the scene was Y/n gentle voice as she sang the words. 

'For you, I'll wait till kingdom come.' He loved it when she sang, he found it calming, and he was guilty of thinking that the lyrics of some songs she sang just for him, especially the love songs. 

Oikawa was kicking himself when she offered to teach him how to play the guitar all those years ago, that he hadn’t given up so easily, wishing he had tried harder, cause maybe, just maybe she would be sat next to him with her head on his shoulder as he played the guitar instead. 

Y/n passion for music was on par with Oikawa's passion for volleyball, she loved it, Y/n would have earphones twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, three hundred and sixty-five days a year if she could. She was always in music room 3 playing whatever instrument she could get her hands one. She had taught herself to play them all, not once took lessons. Oikawa had sat with her hundreds upon thousands of times in that room watching her, whether it was her fingers gliding gracefully across the ivory and black keys of the piano, the way her eyes would close when she really got into the melody or the way she would get into the beat while she played the drums. But his favourite was the guitar. He loved watching Y/n play the guitar, the way her fingers glided over the strings, it didn't matter what kind of guitar, be it an acoustic, bass, or electric or what song she would play whether it was a slow romantic song or a quicker upbeat one she never missed a cord, all the mattered was being able to see her play it.  

"You're making it obvious." Hanamaki's hushed voice reached Oikawa's ears as he was jabbed in the ribs by the outside hitter. The jab was what Oikawa needed to drag him out of his thoughts, realising he had been staring at her this entire time. 

Semi knew how the other setter felt for his girlfriend, Oikawa wasn't exactly being subtle with his feelings nor was he hiding them very well, and well everyone knew. 

Well, everyone bar the girl in question.

Oikawa had had his chance, eighteen years he had and didn't make his move, so Semi did. One thing that Semi had always wondered was how on earth had Y/n never realised how in love Oikawa was with her, it was so obvious how could she not see it, the brunette boy would do literally anything just to make her smile. 

 "Baby?" Semi hummed as he turned towards his girlfriend's voice that had called out to him, a gentle smile across his lips as saw her beautiful face, "My turn, can you pass me the guitar, please?" 

Semi happily obliged, passing her the guitar with a gentle lingering kiss to her forehead, catching the way Oikawa's hands clenched tightly, his knuckles turning white. Semi had to bite back the chuckle, but he noticed how Oikawa instantly relaxed as Y/n fingers ran over the cords as she played a few random notes before she began to play 'Gold Rush' by Ed Sheeran, Semi was the same as Oikawa when his girlfriend played the guitar he relaxes. 

'Smoke alarm went off at nine~' Y/n voice flowed in perfect harmony with the guitar, Oikawa couldn't help but let the gentle smile across his lips at the sounds of her voice once again, yet it quickly disappeared again as Semi joined in their voice mixing softly and sweetly, they harmonised perfectly together.  

The jealous once again flared up, he cursed himself for being jealous, her happiness was more important and if she was happy with Semi then so be it, and he wouldn't tell her, no, not wouldn't, more like he couldn't tell her that he loved her, not now he has seen how happy she was with him.   

He knew he should have told her when he realised three years ago during their first year of high school. They were in the music room, Y/n had recently taught herself how to play the drums, and that was where she was sat, at the drum kit, her eyes close as she played some song from the early two thousand, he was pretty sure it was AC/DC, it could have been the song 'Can't Stop Rock 'n' Roll'. Oikawa smiled as he tapped his foot along to the beat she was creating, she was lost in her own world, the music absorbing her, she was unaware of her surroundings, so much so he was able to sneak a picture of her. He had it printed and framed. He kept it safe on his desk at home and another two copies, one in his gym bag and the other in his locker. Oikawa once again pulled out his phone, but this time he took a picture of the couple, both still singing with beautiful, loving smiles on their faces.  

God, how he wished Y/n looking at him like that, the way she was looking at Semi. For her to adore him and allow her to let him treasure her. Oikawa knew he would treat her like the queen she is, he would worship the ground she walked on, well like he already did, he would drop anything to be by her side if she needed him, do anything to see her smile. Oikawa knew that was never going to happen now. Not unless Semi fucked up and at that, he would have to fuck up massively and if he ever did Toru Oikawa would be the one there to be her shoulder to cry one, pick her back up, stand her on her feet wipe those tears away and show her just how much he loves, cares and cherishes her. 

He knew she was in the stands; she always was, Y/n had never once missed one of his matches, official or practice she was always there. He was the same if she had a gig or competition, he was there to support her. 

His eyes locked on to her figure, instantly spotting she was still wearing his spare jersey, he was glad tradition never changed since she had been wearing his jersey to the matches since forever. It was different this time, with her was Semi his arms were wrapped around her waist, and his chin was planted on her shoulder, he could see their lips move at a rapid pace as they spoke to one another, Y/n giggling every now and then at something the ash-blond setter had said. Y/n felt a pair of eyes on her, spotting Oikawa was staring at her, she gave him a grin and a wave before she mouthed 'Rule the court king!' the same words she says before every match, but this time it was different she was standing in another's man's arms.  

"You manage to lose the girl of your dreams." Kageyama taunted from the other side of the net while he glanced between the h/c girl with her boyfriend and his heartbroken former captain with a smug grin firmly planted on his lips. "Impressive." 

"Piss off Tobio-chan." The jealousy was clear in his voice as he venomously spat the words out, he felt disgusted with the bitter taste coating his tongue again, Oikawa's own eyes flickered back to where she was stood just as she turned in Semi's arms cupping her boyfriend's cheek placing a chaste kiss to his lips. Oikawa closed his eyes and bit his lower lip as he turned back towards his team, the suffocating jealous flooded his veins.  

Iwaizumi didn't know what he could say or do to help Oikawa through this. He honestly wished that Semi didn't treat her so perfectly, not that he would want Y/n to be treated any less than a princess or mistreated, but if he did, he knew then Oikawa would be the one to be there to pick up the broken piece of her heart and fit them back together.  

A thought had crossed Iwaizumi's mind that it was just a ploy that Shiratorizawa's team had come up with to break his friend for their next match against one another. But it wasn't a ploy. It couldn't be, Iwaizumi knew you couldn't fake the look of pure love, and adoration Semi's eye's held, and the way he was the perfect gentlemen, treating Y/n was the uttermost respect, Semi adored her, and he showed it to the world with the little signs of affection, he would always pick her up from school if he was able to, surprise her with pineapple mochi, it didn't take him long to work her love for it. The silver chain necklace that he had brought on their six-month anniversary adorned her neck since the day he fastened it. When they went to the zoo on their date, he even got them matching phone charms.  

The Seijoh third years looked at their captain with pitiful looks on their face as they saw the longing glances he sent to Y/n. "Stop." Oikawa muttered as he walked up to his friends, "I don't want your pity. It's my own fault I should have told her three years ago."  

The three lads gave him a sheepish smile, as much as Oikawa drove them around the bend, he was still their friend, and they didn't like seeing him like this, heartbroken and miserable. Oikawa had been putting his acting to the test in front of Y/n, putting up his confident, happy personality but if you looked close into those chocolate brown eyes of his, you could see just how broken and hurt he was over this.  

"You got that right. You should have told her then," Iwaizumi said as he firmly clamped his hand down on Oikawa's shoulder causing the captain to flinch at the force reminding him just how powerful his vice captain's spikes can be.  

"So, let's beat Karasuno today," Hanamaki smirked, slapping his back.  

"Then tomorrow we will take down Shiratorizawa, and you can show Y/n who is the superior setter." Matsukawa also smirked, landing a punch to his right shoulder.  

The whole match was intense, the score so close each set and the final set ended up in a deuce. Y/n was gripping Semi's arm tightly the whole match, it was more than likely cutting off his blood circulation. As Hinata's final spike passed the blockers and straight to Oikawa ready to receive it, but even, so it wasn't enough to keep the ball in play and the match ending with Karasuno proceeding to the finals.  

Y/n untangled herself from Semi's arms as she rushed forward to the front of the stands, tears streaming down her cheeks as she watched her best friend try to regain his composure over the shock that they had just lost, watching as Oikawa and Kageyama stared at each other, she couldn't hear what he said but looking a lot like a declaration of war.   

The two teams spoke to the opposing coaches before returning back to their respective coaches, and as the seijoh boys spoke to coach Irihata, the team started to tear up, Y/n could see Oikawa was trying to stay strong for his team, holding back his tears, as the team jogged over to thank those who had come to watch them, Y/n saw that even Iwaizumi was crying, she knew what was passing through his head. She knew he was thinking how can he call himself the Ace if he can't even land the last shot. She watched as Oikawa firmly slapped Iwaizumi's back, followed by Matsukawa and Hanamaki as they joined the others lined up.  

"Thank you for coming," Oikawa said, firmly refusing to meet Y/n eyes, as much as he knew she was trying to get him to look at her. How could he meet her beautiful eyes when he was so ashamed of himself?  "Thank you for coming." The rest of the team chorused as they bowed, the claps rang in their ears.  

"She's crying." Oikawa heard Matsukawa mumble from next to him. "Look at her, she needs to see you're okay."  

"I can't." Oikawa barely choked out as his eyes stayed glued to the floor, he bit his lip firmly as he held his tears back. "How can I look at the girl I love when I am a disappointment, I can't even get my team to nationals when he can. Tell me how to Matsukawa." Matsukawa's eyes widened as he heard his full name spill from his captain's lips.  

"Clearly, I was nor will I ever be good enough for her," Oikawa told his fellow third years his back turned to them as he grabbed his bag, his hand in a fist his nails firmly digging into his palm as he blinked back his tears as he walked away, he needs to stay strong, for his team, he has to hold it together for them. 

"Toru?" His whole body tensed up as he heard her hoarse sniffle filled voice met his ears. He slowly turned around to see her standing there a little behind him down the empty hallway, eyes red and puffy as the tears still leaked from them. Rubbing the sleeve of her hoodie against the tip of her red nose, the only thing he could think was how beautiful she still looked even though she was a sniffling snotty mess. Glancing behind her, Oikawa spotted the ash-blond boy about fifteen to twenty feet away from them, he was on his phone, but Oikawa knew he was watching them interact. 

"I just want to be alone right now Y/n." His voice void of any emotion, her eyes widened as she heard him say Y/n, not the usual Y/n-Chan he always called her. He turned to continue his journey back to the bus to return to school, but as he took a step forward, her grip on the back of his jacket stopped him.  

"I'm still so proud of you." Her voice was scarcely above a murmur, but he heard her words. "In my eyes, you will always be the king of the court, and I will always be by your side no matter the outcome of a match, always supporting you." Y/n took another step forward, wrapping her arms around his middle, left check settled against his back. "So, promise me you will get your crown back." 

Oikawa bowed his head as silent tears began to flow from his own eyes. Y/n knew he was crying but the way he would take deep breaths trying to calm himself and the quiet choked sobs. Her grip tightens around him, causing his heart to leap in his chest, he prayed that she didn't feel it.  

"Promise me Toru." Y/n's voice was firm yet still shaking slightly from the amount she had been crying.  

"I promise." Voice cracking as Oikawa spoke those words. He gently loosens her grip on his team jacket before turning around pulling Y/n into a tight hug, her face instantly buried into the crook of his neck as her arms found their way under the jacket to grip on to his jersey tightly - his chin resting on the top of her head. The two childhood best friends stood there in each other's arms as they silently cried. In that moment Oikawa imagined that the girl in his arms was his, not realising just how cruel he was to being himself as he repeatedly chanted 'I love you' in his head. He loved how perfectly she fitted in her arms, the way her head fitted into the crook of his neck.  

"I promise that one day I will make you proud to call me your best friend." Oikawa's voice dropping a few octaves as he buried his nose into her hair carefully inhaled her rose-like scent engraving the smell into his mind.  

"I am always proud of you and to call you my best friend." She pulled back looking up into his eyes which held such a proud gaze before she glanced back over her shoulder to her boyfriend, which in turn reminded Oikawa that the girl he was holding wasn't his.  

"Go." Oikawa sighed shakily as he slackens his grip, yet he didn't let go completely, wanting to keep her in his arms a little longer, he gave her a tight smile, "I'll text you later."  

"My window is always open." Y/n replied, giving him a light punch to arm, returning his smile as she slipped out of his arms, taking a step back. He chuckled at her comment, he knew she wasn’t lying, her window was always open, and he had often snuck in when either of them was feeling a little low or just wanted to hang out with one another. Her window was most straightforward to climb up to if you knew how, his window, on the other hand, was not so easy to get too.  

Oikawa watched as she walked back to Semi, his jaw clenching as he watched the girl who didn't know owned his heart snuggled into another man's side, Semi planned a long kiss on her forehead, causing a loving smile to grace her lips made Oikawa's heart skip a beat at her smile yet the jealousy bubbled in his chest once again suffocating him.

"Oi, Shittykawa." He felt Iwaizumi hand on his shoulder, tearing his gaze away from the happy couple. He looked at the Ace whose gaze held so much sympathy for the setter. "Come on." was all Iwaizumi said as he began to guide the setter back to the bus.  

"Oh, Toru?" He looked over his shoulder to look at her calling him. "Get some ice on your knee please." He closed his eyes, chuckling with a nodded, of course, she knew his knee hurt after he slipped and landed on it during the match. 

"Toru darling? Is that you?" Oikawa heard his mother's voice rang through the house from the kitchen as he stepped through the front door one early spring Saturday afternoon after a long day of training. "Yea it's me." He called back, trying to mask the gloomy tone to his voice. "I'm going to go take a shower."  

"Toru hasn't been the same since Y/n got that boyfriend of hers." He heard his mother say causing him to falter in his step midway up the stairs, his hand gripped the bannister tightly. Had he really failed to hide his feelings? Does that mean Y/n knows? Is that why she seems so distant from him now? 

"He's a nice kid and treats her right but I just so desperately wanted to see Y/n and Toru together." He heard M/n sigh, of course, it was the weekly girl's night their mothers had, this week was at his house.  

"Mhm, I was looking forward to planning their wedding." Oikawa took a seat on the stairs as he continued to listen to the women's conversation, he smiled slightly at the fact that even their mothers wanted them to be together. How he would love to marry her, he knew she wanted a ruby and diamond platinum - since she said yellow gold doesn't suit her - engagement ring. He knew what kind of wedding she wanted, a small affair with family and friends, the colours champagne and white.  

"Oh, and sharing grandmother duties, those two would make us some beautiful grandchildren." The women were gushing happily over the idea of being grandparents again. The way they were speaking was as if they didn't already have a grandchild each.  

Oikawa sighed happily at the thought of their children, he could see them having three or four; actually, he would have as many as Y/n would let him have. He wanted at least one daughter, hopefully, a carbon copy of her mother. She was definitely going to be a complete and utter daddy's girl who he would spoil rotten and sons he could teach to play volleyball, of course, his daughter too if she so wished. He could see evenings where they would all sit and watch movies together or watch their mother play one of the many instruments she knew how to play, he could see her teaching them to play them as well.  

He felt a tear slip from his eye from the thoughts he was having, as if he was grieving for a future he knew he would never see, quickly wiping it away he continued his journey up the stairs and grabbed a pair of clean boxers and sweats from his room before making his way into the bathroom. He switches on the hot water before stripping off he throwing his sweaty workout clothes in the laundry basket, he lets the water get to temperature before getting in. Oikawa allowed hot water to run over him, setting his hands firmly on the wall in front of him, bowing his head as he watched the water run down the drain. Finally allowing everything he felt from the day flood out, he was impressed with how he managed to hold it all together and was grateful for the fact the rushing water was covering up the sobs that racked his body.  

The pain in his chest became unbearable as he thought about the future he had planned out in his mind. The image of Y/n and Semi wrapped up in one another's arms and their children running around flashed through his mind causing yet another series of sharp sobs to rack through his body. He was kicking himself for being so stupid as to leave so long to tell her. 

"Toru?" His next sob caught in his throat as he heard her voice call through the door with a light knock. "Are you okay?"  

"Y-yea!" He choked out, gritting his teeth at the fact he stuttered, that was the first time he had heard her voice in this week, she seemed to be avoiding him recently, she left earlier to a school than him and lunch she spent it in the music room.  

"Oh, okay." He knew that tone of voice, she was feeling down, something was wrong, "It's just you have been in there a while, like nearly half an hour." He could picture her standing outside the door fiddling with her fingers, "Aunty is planning on ordering take away, so if you could come out soon, please."  

"Sure, I'll be out in a bit." He replied, grabbing his shampoo hair before washing his body. He got out the shower drying himself with the fluffy white towel before slipping on his clean clothes, he looked in the mirror, noticing his eyes were slightly red and puffy. Groaning Oikawa splashed some freezing water on his face before heading to his room to grab a hoodie before he went downstairs only to find Y/n sat on his bed, her gaze focused out the window with her knees curled up to her chest with her nose buried between her them. Her eyes held a faraway look, he knew she was upset this was one of her go-to places and position when she was upset.  

"Y/n?" He questioned quietly, so quietly that wouldn't have heard it if you weren't in the room. Y/n jumped at the sound of his gentle whisper, bringing her out of her thoughts. 

"When were you going to tell me?" She asked her voice also matching his tone as her eyes never left the window.  

"W-what?" He stuttered out; did she know that he loved her?  

"Brazil Toru." Her head turned to look at him, tears running down her cheeks, his eyes widened. How did she find out? He grabbed the nearest alien hoodie from his desk chair pulling it over his head.  

"I'm-" he sighed as he took a few steps closer to her "I'm sorry, I just hadn't found the right time to tell you." Gripping his hoodie, she pulled him closer as she turned her body to face him full, her legs hanging over the edge of the bed, making him stand between her legs as Y/n wrapped her arms around his waist buried her head in his stomach as she started to sob.  

"This is why I have been avoiding you recently. I didn't know how to bring it up either, I overheard Makki and Iwa talking about it." She gasped out, struggling for breath, over how hard she is crying, "Toru," She sniffled, "w-what am I going to do without you?"  

Oikawa was crying as well now, his arms securely wrapped around her, gently stroking her hair. 

"We have been by one another's side for the past eighteen years. We have stuck together, through thick and thin. You were here for me when my arse of a father walked out, and I have always been there for you when you needed me, picking you up when you fell, figuratively and physically. You're my rock, Toru."  

"Oh, Y/n," his own voice cracked, "You're my rock too. I will always be there for you, wherever it is, I will always be but a message or phone call away."  

"And I, you Toru, I will always be here for you no matter what." She looked up at him, her glassy e/c eyes peering at him questioningly "Why Brazil though?"  

"It was the best offer, and I promised to make you proud. I am so sorry I didn't tell you; I just didn't know how."  

"It's okay," She smiled as the tears-stains on her cheeks gave them a slight glow, she still looked stunning, her b/c hair half tied back in a ponytail. The tip of her nose was red, making her look so cute, even with her bloodshot eyes. The urge to cup her jaw in his hands and kiss her with all the passion and love he could muster was almost too much to resist as the tsunami of emotions swirled inside him, they were being to crack the dam he had built to keep them in and protect his heart as well as to not ruin the friendship he treasured so dearly. 

"When do you leave?" She questioned, tilting her head on one side, looking like an adorable inquisitive owl. "After we graduate." 

"Toru," Her voice holding fake anger as she scolded him, he knew she didn't mean it by the playful look in her eyes, "We are just going to have to make so many more memories before you go." She smirked at him tugging on the strings of his hood, "And I want this hoodie before you go."  

"Fine," He sighed with a cheeky smile and a playful roll of his eyes. 

Graduation rolled around far too quickly, the five third years spent a lot of time together, creating as many treasured memories as they could, going to theme parks, Y/n spent time teaching Oikawa how to make milk bread so he wouldn't miss his favourite treat too much. Over those few months, Oikawa just kept falling deeper and deeper in love with her. He was standing in the airport still a little while till his flight, he had checked in already, all he had to do was go through security. Stood in front of him wearing his hoodie was Y/n, tears in her eyes but with a small smile on her face. 

"I'm going to miss you Toru," She clutched her hands in front of her, "but, like we said only a text or a phone call away." Placing his carryon bag down on the floor. Oikawa steps forward, pulling her into a tight hug, enjoying the feeling of her in his arms again. "I'm going to miss you too," blinking back his tears, "even though we may be thousands of miles apart you will always be my best friend, and always be there for you no matter what." 

Pulling away to check the time on his phone, he had an hour till his gate closed but he needed to go before he changed his mind and decided to stay. "Sorry Y/n-Chan I got to go; I want to be safe and not miss my flight." Oikawa's heart was breaking that he had to leave her, that she wouldn't be just a few seconds walk away. The flood of emotion consumed him as he felt his feelings for her nearly tumble out of his lips as he stared into her e/c eyes, that were clouded with unfallen tears for him. Oikawa was contemplating whether to tell her or not, deciding with the latter he thought it was best not to leave with telling her he had been in love with her for the last god knows how many years. 

"It's okay Toru, I'll see you soon." She grabbed his hand, giving it a final squeeze. 

“Of course, Y/n-Chan, I'll be back at Christmas." He grinned, ruffling her hair, letting go of her hand. 

Y/n stood there as she watched her best friend step through security. Tears streamed down her face as she knew it would be the last time she saw him for a long time. Oikawa looked over his shoulder, his heart broke even more at her tears. He gave her a gentle smile and wave before he disappeared out of her line of sight, allowing his own tears to fall. Deciding in those few seconds that he would use the thousands of miles distance to finally get over her. 

Four years. 

 Oikawa had hoped that after four fucking years he would have finally been able to move on, but he was wrong, no matter how many dates he went on with other girls, none of them ever made him feel the way she did and to make matters worse he saw and heard her everywhere he goes. During their university days, Y/n and Semi decided to start a band, they only did it for fun, but they got noticed, and now they were world-famous. They were adored by many, their songs always being played on the radio, television interviews and news articles galore. He, of course, listened to the album they had dropped, and she still sang like an angel. 

But right now, the most challenging choice he would ever have to face was happening, no match would ever be as hard as this decision would be.  

"So, will you?" Y/n asked as she sat opposite Oikawa outside a delightful little coffee shop on a quiet side street of Buenos Aires. The Ruby and diamond platinum engagement ring sparkled under the warm morning sun. Oikawa wasn't going to deny it was a pretty ring but the one he had spent many endless sleepless nights designing would have suited her much better. 

"Why him?" Oikawa could not help but let the question spill from his lips, he needed to know, it was so quiet, barely audible.  

"W-what?" Y/n stuttered out blinking in shock at her best friend's question, even with how quiet his voice was when he asked her, Y/n still heard what he said.  

"Why him Y/n?" Oikawa asked louder, with more confidence with a clear voice.  

"What do you mean why him?" She snapped before she sighed, she knew he was just making sure she was making the right choice, which he was but he was also trying to understand why she hadn’t ever noticed how much he loved her.  

"Toru, Eita and I have been together for five years now. Of course, we have had our difficulties and being in the band together does create a few arguments, but we have made it through those problems. I love him, and I know he loves me. Eita has always treated me with the uttermost respect and love, never has he hurt me, and I believe he never will."  

Y/n closed her eyes, wrapping her hands around her mug as she took a deep breath looking up into those brown eyes, she has known all her life. "So please Toru, would you, as my oldest, closest and dearest friend will you please be the one to walk me down the aisle and give me away?"  

His heart shattered into a million pieces like a glass shattering as it hit the floor as he listened to her words, but for her, for her happiness, he would put on a brave smile and replied, "Of course, I would love too."  

So, he did, not even six months later he was standing outside her dressing room where she got ready with her bridesmaids, he knocked on the door gently as her mother opened the door giving Oikawa a tight sad smile, which he returned before she pulled him into a hug. "I'm sorry," She whispered into his ear, "It should have been you, my dear boy." The older women let a quiet sob escape from her lips. Oikawa could not say a word because if he did, he would cry and would admit how he felt to her, so he just gave the older h/c woman a nod as he bit his lip blinking back his tears.  

The wedding was beautiful. She was beautiful, the dress made her glow, and her loving, joyful smile did not leave her face the entire day, Oikawa managed to hold back from objecting - somehow - when he had the chance to. His speech made her cry, and they danced a few times together that night, he cherished the time they had together that day, still wishing she was marrying him and not Semi.  

"How are you doing?" Iwaizumi asked as he stood next to Oikawa while they watched the first dance. 

"As good as I can be, I suppose." Oikawa shrugged, sipping his whiskey on the rocks.  

"I'm impressed you didn't object." Oikawa scoffed before biting his lip, and he whispered: "I wanted to." 

2021 rolled around, and Y/n and Semi's band was asked to perform at the opening for the Olympic, as always, the performance was mesmerising, Oikawa's eyes were glued to her the entire time. "Uncle Toru!" Her sweet little three-year-old voice called out. 

"Amaya!" He grinned, turning around as her little legs ran towards him, he scooped her up in his arms spinning around, her giggle was like music to his ears. 

He stopped spinning to look at the child in his arms, she was perfect likeness to his best friend when she was a child; the only difference was her eyes; she had her father's sharp brown eyes they should have been his molten chocolate brown eyes, this beautiful girl that should have been his baby girl, the child that should have been calling him papa not Uncle Toru. "I've missed you." She wrapped her little arms around Oikawa's neck. "I missed you too little one." Wrapping his arms around her. 

"Amaya!" Oikawa heard her mother's voice call out in panic. "Where are you?"  

"Did you run away from your mother?" Oikawa smirked playfully with raised eyebrows. Amaya pulled away from Oikawa's hug, setting her hands on his shoulder, with a guilty look on her face. 

" Y/n!" Oikawa called out to h/c women. She turned around at the sound of his voice, seeing Oikawa stood with her daughter in his arms. Sighing out in relief, placing a hand on her heart as she saw her daughter in his arms.  

"Amaya, don't scare me like that." Y/n scolded her daughter, and the gentle look was in Oikawa's eyes, he was still so in love with her, he loved how good of a mother she was.  

"Y/n? Did you find her?" Semi's voice rang in his ears, dragging him out of his thoughts as he watched Y/n scold Amaya.  

"Toru had her, she must have spotted him." Y/n called back over her shoulder as he walked towards them. "She called out to me and came flying in my direction." Oikawa smiled at the happily married couple. "You know that wasn't safe Amaya what if I didn't hear you."  

"I'm sorry," The small h/c girl lips trembled as she spoke. Oikawa pulled her closer and placed a kiss on her forehead. "It's okay, just don't do it again."  

"Oh, Uncle Toru! Guess what?" Amaya suddenly chirps back up again.  

"What?" He asked just as excitedly as her.  

"I'm going to be a big sister!" She cried out throwing her hands up in the air in excitement. He glanced at Y/n for confirmation, and he got a nod and sweet smile in reply. "No way! That is going to be awesome! You're going to be such a good big sister."  

Oikawa had grown numb to the stinging pain in his chest after all these years. The day he found out Y/n was pregnant, he was over the moon for her, but of course, he still thought it should have been him.  

Y/n had often asked Oikawa why he had yet to get married or be in a committed relationship that lasted more than six months, most of the time he lied saying he had yet to find the right girl, and he wanted to concentrate on volleyball. She believed his lies.  Oikawa knew he may never get over her, and if he did, it would be a miracle.  

"Toru why have you never gotten married?" She asked again, her voice cracking and raspy from crying so hard, grasping his hand tightly, as he led in his hospital bed. 

It was time he decided, he did not have much longer, outside the room looking through the window was her family, the four children she had and her husband, both his and her mother and of course Iwaizumi. Amaya, who was incredibly close to her uncle, was sobbing into her fathers chest. He wasn't expecting his life to end like this, stage four lung cancer, for someone who never smoked a day in his life and was fit as anything he did not expect to go out like this.

He knew he wouldn't have much longer.  

"Cause it was always you." He choked out, struggling to breath "I have been so in love with you for the past thirty years." He watched as her eyes widened and her lips parted "Before you even ask me why I didn't move on, I tried Y/n I tried so hard to move on, I saw so many people Y/n but not one of them compared to you."  

The tears began to stream down her face once again. "It's always been you," cupping her cheek, stroking her tears away. "Why didn't you ever tell me? I was so in love with you during our last year of middle school and most of high school, but I never t-thought you loved me, so-” She choked on another sob “-so, I moved on."  

She buried her head in the crook of his neck as she cried. He was kicking himself. She loved him all those years ago, and he blew it. He wrapped his arms around her as they both cried. He took in a raspy breath, knowing it was going to be his last.   

As he whispered out his final words, he would every speak he had no regrets so glad he could finally speak the words he had always wished he could say to her,  

"I love you so much." 

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[baby-grayson]

Sweet Engima

Words: 5.3k Tags: @wheezeatmedolans​ @styles-dolan​ @prettyboydolan​ @evergreendolan​ @baby-turtles​ @dolanstacoma​ @kombuchagray​ @not-gbd​ @graysavant​ @someonetogray​ @dolansficsandpics​ @batgirl009 @voguekristens @letsgoget-high​ @crossedbone-kat​ @graysonsdollface 

tw: hospitals, injuries, anxiety, police, mental health, bullying, alike topics

“It’s been paid for,” the airport garage attendant said, “By a Mr. Dolan.” Kate stood in front of a plump man, wearing the frizzy hair and red eyes that come with a cross country flight. “Oh,” she stuttered, “So I can just go—go to my car?” When the man nodded, Kate picked up her backpacks from the floor of the airport garage and walked aimlessly, trying to find a clue in her memory as to where she and Grayson had left her car.

Being back in California felt surreal. When she made it to her car, throwing her bags in the trunk and sitting in the driver’s seat. She took, what felt like, her first breath in weeks. She looked to the passenger’s side, seeing the image of the 200-lb heartthrob that once sat next to her. She felt older: aged by the stress, inconsistency, and weight of what she would claim was the past few weeks, but deep down she knew it was the gravity of the past year.

Arriving at the apartment, she felt half asleep as she slugged herself up the steps and to her front door. She stopped, staring at her front door. It was ajar and not locked. She asked herself if she forgot to lock it but then remembered that it was actually Wesley who was last here. She rolled her eyes and made a mental note to give him his stuff back when she wrapped her fingers around the doorknob and pushed it open.

She stood in the door frame, wide eyed and dry mouthed.

It was a wreck.

Her entire place was a wreck.

Her Ikea couches had been shredded, bits of cushion and fluff spilling out onto her rug that also wore broken shards of her coffee table. Her wall of pictures was covered in shreds, while confetti ,made from the faces of her loved ones, decorated the floor. Her kitchen cabinets were open, spilling over with things. Her house plants had been broken and dirt stained the floor of her apartment.   She froze, not knowing how to move. She slumped one backpack down, hearing it hit the floor. She licked her top lip, trying to wet her heavy mouth. Her bottom jaw clattered as she took a step forward, her eyes still struggling to fully draw in the details of the moment.

She stepped over the threshold and noticed them. A thousand little notes written on posts its, receipts, the edges of notebook paper, newspapers, and napkins. She saw the first one and drew back. She swung her head around and read a second, hissing in a breath. Her breath turned shaky as her eyes darted between them: not feeling safe in her own home.

Slut.

Whore.

Homewrecker.

Fat Hoe.

Big nosed side hoe.

Clout Chaser.

He was Sherry’s.

He was going to be married.

Snake.

Cripple.

She took a step, nearly falling over on a large piece of a broken shoe stand. In a swift motion, she lunged herself over the threshold and slammed the door behind her. She fell against the wall next to her door. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and debated who to call first: Grayson or the police.

Grayson got there a few minutes after the first officer. When he parked his Tesla, Kate was slumped against the front door to her building looking up at the officer with a note pad, her back packs were thrown against the asphalt. Her eyes were puffy and red as she wiped a hand across her face and up through her hair. Grayson remained seated in the car, feeling helpless until another cop car pulled up. He waited until the officer by Kate walked away to greet the other car before climbing out of the Tesla and heading over to her.

She held her hands on her elbows while she leaned against the door, shaking slightly. She looked up at him through heavy lashes. Her words got stuck when they caught in her throat. She was ripped at every edge, scared small and quivering, but she was a masterpiece, her golden flecks shining in a thin layer of wet with her lips red from biting them and her petite frame accentuated in her slump.

Grayson lost all words. He wrapped both arms around her in a warm, snug embrace. He brought her head into his shoulder and gently placed a loving hand on the back of her hair. He felt a few tears soak into the sleeve of his shirt. He kissed the top of her head and mumbled, “bunny…”

When Kate looked up from her place on his shoulder, Grayson’s face was turned down. He had no words to give her, no advice to share, and no action to take. Instead, he settled on pulling her tighter and not leaving her side for the next two hours: while police officers came and went, taking shards of pots, broken plates, and notes away in sealable bags.  

While she retold her story again and again and stuttered through the list of people who might do such a thing, all of which fueled by the latest development of Grayson in her life, Grayson never left her side. He held her close in their private moments, as if cuddling her head into his chest would protect her beautiful mind from the toxic chaos of the moment; when he couldn’t manage that, he reached down and took her delicate hand in his large one, squeezing it occasionally. Was it so she could feel his presence, or he could feel hers? He felt like crying, his eyes ached with soreness from holding back tears of anger. He shook, physically tremoring with the knowledge that he might have influenced someone to do such a wretched thing to his angel: one of the only good things about his life.

Grayson’s psyche was scarred with the paranoia of his stalker episode a few years prior: not even the skillful approach of an expert therapist could not permanently remove the edge he felt when it came to the public. Sometimes at night, he would lay awake and replay that night: being in the backyard with Ethan and Cameron. Ethan’s face dropping at the sight of a body in their kitchen, a body that wasn’t Ryan or Kristina or Kyle; Cameron’s assertive resolve as she marched out of the pool and nearly broke the sliding door when she stomped into the kitchen; the echo of her voice as she demanded people; the image of Ethan calling the police next to him.

Some memories aren’t memories: their primordial haunts that only exist to remind us that we are human.

But Kate was more than a human to him. To Grayson, Kate was angelic, representing something happy and right in his ever so mixed up world. He dreamed of the day he could take her away from this place: not just that scene, but all the worst parts of his life, and make a life with her. Grayson had longed believed there was someone, or something, watching out for him, he was far too stupid to have made it this far on luck, and he was convinced, feeling it deep in his bones, that celestial being handpicked Kate to remind Grayson of the best things in life.

When Kate looked up at him from her place in his chest, while the last of the squad cars rolled away, her voice choked on her words “What am I supposed to do?”

Grayson’s bones shook. His brain felt so saturated with dark clouds, it pressed against his skull and panged in his head. His heart wanted to rip through his chest, searching for air in a breathless fog. He gritted his jaw, on the verge of his own breakdown he tightened his arms around her, causing her lips to curl from where he pressed her against his chest.

Thank God his Tesla could drive itself: Grayson could barely keep his foot on the gas pedal as his body shook. Despite his best efforts, tears started to roll down his face. Kate pulled her sweatshirt around her body, comforted by the warm feeling of being engulfed in something.

Kate silently made a quick run to the shower when the Tesla parked at Grayson’s house. She made quick work of tearing off her clothes, turning on the jets, and sitting on his bench as the water rolled off her skin: praying that the water could wash her inside of the memories of that afternoon.

Grayson’s face was red and puffy. His knuckles were white as he grabbed a bottle of water from the counter. He held it above his head and chugged, droplets spilling off the corners of his mouth. He crushed it in his fist and forcibly threw it into the trashcan. A concerned Ethan tentatively stepped out of his room and lingered in the kitchen doorway. Grayson hadn’t told him he left; Ethan only noticed Gray’s Tesla gone from the driveway. If it wasn’t for the thud of the water bottle in the trashcan, Ethan wouldn’t have known Grayson was home.

“What’s going on?” Ethan’s voice was shaky as his looked down at his brother’s feet and then back up. Grayson reminded Ethan of the last time he saw his favorite childhood teddy bear. The teddy bear was covered in stains of dirt, food, and bodily fluids from traveling everywhere with Ethan. Besides Gray, that teddy was a young Ethan’s best friend. The last time Ethan saw teddy was when their father carried its remains into a shoebox after accidentally running over it in the driveway, where Ethan had left it one afternoon when it started raining. The teddy that was once shiny, cuddly, and soft was crushed to the point of bare threads, overflowing stuffing, and rocks embedded in its surface: that was what Grayson looked like to Ethan in that moment.

Grayson nearly tore the refrigerator door off of its hinges, searching for something to pile into his mouth, “Someone got into her place,” he went to open a drawer but instead took it off of its tracks. He grunted, nearly growling at the plastic bin and trying to shove it back into its place in the fridge, “They broke—they ransacked the fucking place Ethan—not even her house—notes” He slammed the door shut and put his hands on his hips, his bottom lip curled into his mouth as he stared at the refrigerator drawer that was passively sitting on the kitchen counter. His eyes stalked up to meet Ethan’s, “You want to know what they were fucking saying about her?”

Ethan didn’t need to ask who the “her” was in the situation. He put a familiar hand on Grayson’s back, feeling his relax every so slightly at his touch. Ethan sucked in a breath and played with his mouth. Grayson sighed, putting his hands on the counter and bending forward for support. “We’re gonna get through this man,” Ethan mumbled, “like we always do.”

“I don’t know how man,” Grayson raised his thumbs from where they held the edge of the counter, “You weren’t there—you didn’t see—”

“Gray,” Ethan’s tone was paternal, “there is no other choice, this is gonna work out. But it’s not gonna work itself out by you standing here and assaulting our kitchen.”

Grayson stood up, pushing Ethan back as he let go of the counter, “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“Go to her,” Ethan raised his voice slightly, he gestured an arm outward in the direction of Grayson’s bedroom, “Be there for her.”

Grayson stalked into his bedroom and sat on the edge of his bed. He heard the drum of the shower hitting the tile in his bathroom, deciding now was not the time to replay their rendezvous from a few weeks ago. He fell back, his comforter fluffing up around his head. His spine decompressed but his soul remained tense.

He picked his head up when the door to his bathroom opened to reveal Kate’s figure surrounded in a ginormous fluffy towel, as some steam filtered in behind her. Grayson sat up as she moved to sit on his lap, adjusting her towel around her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he brought her closer to him. She thumbed his shoulder, her hair dripping water in his lap.

“I’m so sorry,” his voice was low and heavy with regret.

She didn’t meet his eyes. “You didn’t do anything Grayson.” “Yes, I did,” he sighed, “I did so much.” He winced, as if he was in pain, “I should have never—I should have never done it like this.” He bit his lip, “If I was unhappy—I should’ve—I should’ve—dealt with my relationship first and found you second. I fucked it up. I fucked it all up and now I—” “Shh,” she was calm, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Yeah,” she talked with her lips millimeters away from his skin, “You could have done a lot better. But there’s no changing the past, only doing better tomorrow.”

She pulled back, meeting his eyes now, “And Grayson—don’t apologize for—that, back there. That wasn’t you, you didn’t—you didn’t do that.” Her fingers interlocked with his, she squeezed his hand, “Once upon a time, you gave me this big apology about how you didn’t handle bringing me into your life correctly. Well-“ she sighed, “I wasn’t perfect back then either.” She flicked her teeth against her bottom lip, “I had a problem—separating you from, from your fans. But I get it now, at least I think I get it better, what I’m trying to say is,” she took a breath, “You didn’t do that to my apartment, you didn’t cause that. If someone was—if someone was that unstable and that irrational—they would have done that, whether to me, or to someone else. Am I explaining myself right here? I just—You didn’t do that to me, but you can—you can help me heal from it.” For nearly the hundredth time that afternoon, she pressed her head to his shoulder, her hair soaked a circle into his shirt.

Grayson took in a deep breath, trying to let Kate’s words absolve his guilt but feeling worse when no internal resolution came. “I just—” he wanted to say he loved her, he wanted desperately to say he loved her but everything about the moment betrayed him, “I—I want you back in my life, you are back in my life, and I want to do everything I can to keep you safe, to see you happy.” Kate lifted her head from his shoulder to meet his eyes. He found serenity in her features, in seeing those big brown eyes look up at him. Grayson thumbed her skin, feeling it soft and supple under his torn-up thumb. Her words penetrated his heart, “You do make me happy.”

Grayson’s features melted into a sad image of relief, “I do? Do I really?” His lion heart gave way to a series of insecurities and inner turmoil.

Kate nodded softly, she squeezed his hand and brought it up, between their chests, “You do make me happy. And I want to—I want you to keep making me happy. I want this,” she squeezed his hand again, “To be normal. I want us to—to---to---to go on dates and to watch movies and to—to be normal. Because I think that you and I can be something, something real. But you can’t expect this to be perfect until its balanced.” “Balanced,” Grayson repeated the word: one of the only things’ money couldn’t buy him. He sighed. “Yeah, balance,” Kate kissed his cheek, “It’ll come with time, once our lives get settled,” she squeezed his hand, “once we get settled together.”

“Are you saying that you’re giving me a chance? Because I swear, if you are,” Grayson’s eyes turned down at the corners, “I won’t screw it up, I promise. You’re too good for me as it is, and if normal is what you want, normal is what you get. I’ll give you the best normal that anyone ever knew. I want you to be happy, I want to give you everything I absolutely can because after everything I’ve brought into your life, I feel like I’ll never stop saying I’m sorry.” He bit his tongue from exposing his feelings once again.

Kate shook her head, “Don’t ever say you’re sorry. At least, not to me for what you did.” She sighed and eyed the way he slouched and the wrinkled forming in the corners of his eyes, “If you didn’t do what you did,” she shrugged, “Maybe we never would have met again. So maybe we’re the silver lining in…everything.”

***

The night and next day floated by with Kate on the phone with the LA County Sheriff’s Department, her grandmother, and her boss and the twins running around in preparation for their bathbomb launch, despite the chatter on twitter than the launch was perfectly timed amid Grayson’s scandal. Grayson stopped at Monty’s to pick up burgers and shakes for Kate, driving home in the middle of the day for lunch. If it was anyone else, he would have been grossed out, but he thought the way she dipped her fries into her vanilla shake was adorable.

“How’s work going?” she licked the shake off the side of a fry before using a finger to push it in her mouth.

Grayson shrugged while chewing a bite of his vegan burger, “It’s hectic. Everything is ready for the sale, but last-minute details about the boat.” “The boat?” Kate sucked on her shake through a straw, her lips puckering around the edge of the tube. Grayson shifted his gaze away from her mouth and wiggled in his seat, “The launch party, remember I told you about how Kevin wanted to do a little celebration with us and the team? Some good promo but also a team dinner?” Kate shook her head, “You never told me about that.” She knitted her brow, “How long have you been working on that?” “Like six months, you sure I never told you?”

Kate shrugged, “Maybe we were too busy nearly committing bigamy.”

Grayson chortled so loud he spit out a piece of his vegan burger, he coughed and brought a napkin to his mouth. He wagged a finger in her direction, “That was—that was funny.” Kate responded with a proud smile.

Grayson used a napkin to wipe food from his chest, “Well I put you on the guest list, kinda assumed you’d be my plus one,” he took a sip, “You know, my little arm candy.” His wink elicited a giggle from Kate.

“Me? A party?” She placed the sandwich down on the counter. “I’m a socially awkward little nerd.”

“You’re my socially awkward little nerd.” Grayson leaned over to place a kiss on her cheek, smiling onto her skin.

Kate shook her head, “What am I supposed to wear?” Her tone was slightly incredulous: parties, truly, were never her scene. Something about large groups of people intimidated her, there was something so anonymous and nothing intimate about large gatherings. Grayson swallowed a bite of sandwich, “Something pretty, whatever you have is fine I’m sure.” He washed it down with more shake, “You’re always beautiful anyway,” he leaned across to kiss her cheek again. “Hey,” her tone held warning, “You’re not allowed to do that all the time,” she held out a finger and Grayson gave her a cheeky grin. “Besides,” she continued, “I don’t have anything to wear. Grayson, I’ve been living off the same three pairs of pants and two sweatshirts since we left for Jersey.”

“I can have something delivered, “Grayson wiped his face with a napkin, “I’ll order something.”

Parties made Kate uncomfortable. She was further reminded by this fact when made it to the boat in the LA harbor. Grayson’s assistant had driven her because the twins were bouncing across sides of the boat, trying to get everything ready to set sail. She smoothed out the edges of her black dress, that clung a little tighter than she would like—probably chosen purposely on Grayson’s part—and tentatively walked into the main room.

Everyone was in heels, even some of the men. Big heels. Chunky heels. Tall heels. Wide heels. Kate sighed and brought her toes together in her ballet flats. Her condition made walking in flats hard. To her, heels were an obtainable elegance. A signal that she was not physically built for the world she was about to enter with Grayson.

She found a chair at the side of the room and sat quietly, eyeing different faces she didn’t recognize. Something paranoid buzzed inside of her, when she began to wonder if the polite chatter people were whispering around her was about her and Grayson. She swallowed hard and sat back in her seat.

The boat lurched as it left the harbor, bobbing everyone with it. A catering team put out finger foods as the night was ready to begin. Kate stayed in her seat, searching faces in the archways for signs of Grayson.

On the other end of the boat, Ethan was turning a corner as they set sail. He rocked, “woah,” and held out a hand to steady himself. “I’m so sorry,” he looked up at the person his hand landed on, “Sherry?” Ethan’s mouth hung open. In front of him was none other than Sherry Maddox: dressed in a form fitting teal number with shiny, dangling earrings, and strappy blue shoes. Her blonde hair wore a perfect, effortless blow out. He searched her up and down, as if she was going to phase into the ocean mist around him. “What are you doing here?”

“I was invited,” her words were sure. She blinked her eyes quickly, her fake lashes dancing like feathers. Ethan looked around, wondering if he was so stressed that he was seeing things. In the frenzy of the past few weeks, no one thought to disinvite Sherry from the night. Ethan stammered for words, “Oh”

Sherry gave him a sickeningly sweet smile, “Good to see you again Ethan.”  As if on cue, Sherry stepped away from their exchange at the exact moment Ethan’s assistant called out to him to come to the main room. Ethan shuffled away, dizzied from what just happened.

He landed in a seat next to his brother, who sat next to Kate at their table. Kate went pale and dry to see Sherry slink against the back wall of the room. Until that moment, Sherry was nothing but a face in the tabloids to Kate. Seeing her in person, sent knots into her stomach and soul. Kate’s bottom jaw stammered as a chill went through her spine. “What’s wrong?” Grayson knitted his brow together when he saw the color leave her face. When Kate didn’t answer, he followed her gaze to the other side of the room and immediately shot out with, “What’s she doing there?” From next to him, Ethan piped up, “We never took her off the list.” His voice was grim, “Don’t worry about it Gray, she probably just wants to be photographed her peacock costume,” Kate chuckled at his last remark.

At exactly 9PM, Ethan stood up, taking to the front of the room to grab a microphone, “Hello? Is this on? Hello! I just wanted to thank everyone for coming, and for everything you do for our team. I couldn’t ask for better—” he continued his speech thanking his team. From across the room, his assistant snapped pictures of him at the microphone.

While Ethan talked, Grayson shifted in his seat, trying to find some level of comfort with Sherry in the room. He looked at Kate, “You look beautiful.” He placed his hand in her lap to hold her delicate fingers. She smiled up at him, “Thanks.” He leaned over to kiss the top of her head, “There is no one else I’d rather have next to me.” She smiled brightly under his lips. She moved to say something but was interrupted by Grayson standing up to switch places with Ethan at the microphone.  As Ethan sat down, Kate leaned, “you think I can go,” she pointed to the back of the room, “back there to take some pictures of him.” Ethan gave her a sure nod.

Grayson started his remarks while Kate quickly floated to the back of the room to start snapping proud pictures of him. His voice filled the room, “And I think the choices we made to include in this launch are special, they mean something to all of us,” he listed their scents, “Compassion, Creativity, Energy, Family, and Love. Funny thing about Love, I designed it after someone who means so much to me, I wanted it to always remind me of the person who taught me what love is. Because before her, I met a lot of girls and I thought I was ready to be serious about them: but she taught me what it’s like to know someone belongs in your life and put the energy into making them the center of your life. Kathleen Walker, I don’t know what I would do with you.”

Tears welled up in Kate’s eyes, who had given up on taking blurry pictures and resolved on taking a video. As unperfect as Grayson and her were, there was something between them that only the lucky ones get to feel.

Grayson continued his speech, moving to thank every member of their team individually.

From Ethan’s seat, he looked for Kate in the crowd but couldn’t find her. An instinct ringing inside of him, he quietly stood up from his seat and sauntered to the back of the room.

At the edge of the boat, a loud foghorn sounded as the bow cut through ocean waves like butter. Kate struggled, screaming and questioning and crying out. But Sherry Maddox was white with anger. As if being publicly embarrassed by the love of her life wasn’t enough, she was forced to sit and listen to her ex-fiancé flaunt the fact that his “love” product was formulated in the image of another woman.

Kate didn’t feel Sherry push her.

She didn’t feel her feet leave the ground.

She screamed into the night until her scream was muffled by the splash of her body hitting the water.

Her black dress floated around her, blending her in the nighttime water. She was never a very strong swimmer: but what she could do was reduced to nearly nothing after the accident. Despite her best pushes, she could barely keep her head above water.

She was started to lose consciousness as she bobbed, a victim of the rough waves.

Ethan didn’t understand what he saw. He didn’t have time to process what he saw. He threw off his jacket and shoes and swan dived down into the water. With his pants and shirt soaked, he pulled Kate’s limp body toward him and, with the help of a deckhand, pulled himself back onto the boat.

As soon as the pair were back on a solid surface, the deckhand and Ethan’s assistant were surrounding them with towels and blankets. Their lips turned purple as they shivered, two wet trembling bodies in the night. On the other side of the deck, a radio rang out that the boat was returning to harbor for an emergency.

It was Grayson who insisted Kate be brought to the emergency room. He angrily rambled about her swallowing water or getting hypothermia. If it wasn’t for her exhaustion, she could have calmed him, but instead she laid as a limp body on a triage table with Grayson sitting in the corner of the room.

Kate was still wearing her soaking wet dress; her flats had been lost to the Pacific Ocean. Her hair had been messily pinned up by a borrowed clip from Grayson’s assistant. On the boat, Grayson gave her his suit jacket to help with the shivering. She gave blood, peed in a cup, and took a concussion test upon arriving at the hospital.

“Hi Miss Walker,” a peppy nurse stepped through the door, “I’m Tammy. I’m a nurse here.” She shot Kate a warm smile, “I’m just going to ask you a few questions and then check you out and hopefully we can send you right home.”

Kate nodded weakly in response, having met no less than four other Tammy’s that night.

Tammy perched on a stool with wheels and opened a folder. “Any chance you could be pregnant?”

“No.”

“Any family history of cancer?”

“Yes- my mother.”

“Any issues breathing-shortness of breath?”

“No.”

“Have you been out of the country recently?”

“No.”

“Have you been drinking?”

“No.”

“Okay, I’m just going to take your blood pressure and then check your throat, just in case you swallowed any water, and you two should be good to go.”

Tammy was almost too happy to Velcro a blood pressure cuff around Kate’s arm and pump the balloon. Kate leaned against the wall and stared at Grayson, who had bags forming under his eyes. Neither of them said it, but they both longed for the warm, comfortable, familiar cuddle of Grayson’s bed.

“Say ahh,” Kate opened her mouth for Tammy to put her tongue compression in and shine a light in the back of her throat, “Good news, doesn’t seem to be any salt damage.” Tammy removed the compressor and went to write in her chart, “But I would still recommend some tea with honey, just in case you get uncomfortable.” Tammy closed the manilla folder, “Alright folks, I’ll check with the doctor on your other tests Ms. Walker but I think you should be good to go.” “We can leave?” Grayson didn’t mean to sound brusque or rude, but he was too tired, angry, and anxious to try and be polite.

“Let me check with Dr. Ocasio and I’ll be right back to let you know,” Tammy shot Grayson a customer-service smile before shutting the door behind them.

The fluorescent lights flickered as an LA siren sounded in the distance. Grayson’s heart broke to look at her like that: wet, sad, and hurt. Everything in him wanted to do something but found no action. He wondered if the best thing for Kate, was for him to leave her life—to leave her in peace. He shook that thought away, telling himself he was just tired, before closing his eyes and thinking about holding her in his bed later that night.

Before the thought could sweetly settle in his mind, Tammy popped her head in the door, “Oh-uh—Mr.Dolan, could you come with me for a moment? There is some—uh—paperwork, that you need to sign as her attendant.”

Grayson reluctantly stood up and followed Tammy, the first time he was leaving Kate’s side since running across the boat to be with her a few hours earlier.

Nearly seconds after Grayson departed, a wrinkly Hispanic man with salt and pepper hair gently opened the door to Kate’s triage room, “Miss Walker,” his voice was warm, comforting to her, “I’m Dr. Ocasio, pleased to meet you.” He shook her hand.

“Am I okay to go home doctor?” Under normal circumstances, Kate knew to not rush doctors, but the urgency of the night and the call of Grayson’s bed overwhelmed her. The doctor sat on the same stood Tammy took early. He nodded, “You are fine. You didn’t sustain any injuries from your little fall tonight.”

Kate stood up, “Thank you.” She stepped back when the doctor continued to talk. “However,” his elderly voice quivered, “I am afraid that your answers to some of our questions didn’t align with our test results for you.” Kate furrowed her brow, too exhausted and overwhelmed to try to put together any puzzle pieces.

“Miss Walker,” the doctor’s tone was light, as if addressing a child, “I feel obliged to tell you that—you’re pregnant.”