#even if I accidentally spent 10 minutes in the sit down line

[acecasinova]

Accidentally stumbled upon this place and it F-CKED severely

[getsojaded]

part iv: non-refundable || calum hood

word count: 3.9k+

warnings: barely anything prolly just swearing

a/n: <3 enjoy

—

The trip was now only a single day away from happening, and Calum and Y/N hadn’t talked much since he had spent the night at her house after Michael’s. Y/N didn’t remember much from that night, having to be reminded of her poor decisions after waking up to Calum’s arm snaked around her waist, with soft snores leaving his mouth. She felt a source of warmth – comfort even – but before she could catch herself smiling at the scene, she abruptly jumped out of the bed, accidentally waking him up. He was out of the door within ten minutes, with her throwing apologies left and right for bothering him and disturbing his peace. Calum constantly reassured her that there was nothing to be sorry for, before leaving her house.

“What if I fall in love with him again?” Y/N asks Gabriella, sitting next to her in the massage chair. “You don’t need to fall in love with him again, you still are,” She simply states, as she’s choosing a polish colour for her toes. “Gab, I’m so scared. I have no idea what to expect from this getaway and what if it’s so awkward the whole time and-“

“Y/N, calm down. I booked us the salon so you could relax before you head off. Everything will be okay, it’s just Calum. You knew him before and you still know him now. You’re going to be fine.” 

She pauses for a minute at Gabriella’s words. Does she still know him? Has anything changed about him? Like the way he likes his coffee, what times he takes Duke out for walks, his go-to clothing stores, his-

“Miss, you’re phone’s ringing,” Y/N’s thoughts are cut off by the sweet lady pointing out her vibrating phone. Y/N gives her a quick thank you, before picking up her phone to register the contact calling. cal <3.

“So much for relaxing,” She sighs, before picking up the phone. “Hi Calum.” “Hey Y/N, just wanted to know what the plan was for tomorrow. Do we meet at the airport, meet at one of your houses, or?”

“Uh, you live closer to the airport, right? I’ll get Gab to drive me there.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”

“Bye Cal-, Calum. See you tomorrow.” And with that, the line goes dead.

“Nice nickname catch.” Gab giggles, and if she was in reaching distance from Y/N, she would’ve shoved her lightly. “So you need me to drive to Cal’s tomorrow morning?” 

“Yes please.”

“Anything to assist in Operation: Make Calum Y/N’s.”

“Oh fuck off.”

—

Y/N didn’t get much sleep that night. She’d spend her night laying in bed, tossing and turning from thinking too much, get up from her bed and double check her luggage, and lay back down. She did that from 10:30 P.M to 3 A.M, unfortunately only falling asleep two hours before her alarm was supposed to ring. 

Waking up for her wasn’t too easy. She stayed in bed for another twenty minutes, now only giving her another twenty five to get ready as she aimed to leave her house at 5:45

Which also didn’t give her enough time to double check her bags for the tenth time, whispering a good “fuck it” before heading downstairs, coming to see her bestfriend with a cup of water in her hand, looking much more awake than she did. “Morning sunshine, you excited?” She asked, putting on her shoes and unlocking their front door. 

“You could say that,” Y/N groggily responded, lazily pulling her suitcase beside her as they made their way to Gabriella’s car. “Take it easy, okay? Just remember you’re there to have a good time. To get away for a little bit. Don’t be tense. Calum’s still Calum, and you’re still you. It’ll be alright.” Gabriella gives you those reassuring words as she starts the car. Y/N gives her a slight nod, promising to Gab, along with herself, to just unclench her jaw, be her own person, and have fun ; because that’s what’s truly important.

However, she couldn’t help but wonder what Calum’s intentions were for this vacation. Did he plan on outright ignoring her this whole time? Did he want to go clubbing every night and find some hot chick to hit up whenever he has a show in each city? Did he wanna find some inspiration and write some songs? No? There couldn’t be – he was on break with the band and wouldn’t want to feel pressured to do work there.

But before Y/N’s thoughts could continue any further, the drive to Calum’s place had come to an end. As the two girls got out of the car and unloaded it, Y/N shot Calum a quick text, simply stating that she was outside. 

“Have a safe flight, okay? I’ll see you later,” Gabriella says, pulling her into a tight hug. “I will, don’t miss me too much,” She lightly responds, giggling. “Text me everyday, alright? Give me updates on everything. And remember what I said earlier.” 

Don’t be tense. Calum’s still Calum, and you’re still you. It’ll be alright.

“I will, okay?” Y/N says, as they both hear the door unlock, revealing the one and only, dressed in black sweatpants and a navy hoodie, looking extremely comfy, as he held up his little dog, who also looks like he just woke up. “Get home safe, I’ll see you in two weeks!” She pulls away from the hug, allowing Gab to get back into the car.

“Text me when you land! Have fun, you two!” Gab exclaims from her car out the passenger window, earning a smile and a thumbs up from Calum. Calum makes his way up to Y/N with his luggage, setting Duke down and letting him walk around for a bit. 

“Look Duke, it’s Mama! Go say hi.” The little fluffball that Y/N missed so dearly runs up to her, tail wagging and tongue out. “Duke!” She exclaims, picking up and rocking him back and forth in her arms, giving him kisses all over his fur. “I’ve missed you, buddy.” 

Y/N meets Calum halfway, greeting one another with soft smiles and a side hug. “Morning, Cal.” 

“G’morning, you ready to go?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” 

“Perfect. Ash is like two minutes away, he’s gonna drop us off, bring Duke back home and house sit for the time being.”

“Sounds good.”

It’s awkward, there’s no denying it. There’s tension and they’re confused. Confused as to why they are struggling to find basic words to speak — they’ve never been in the position of not knowing to what to say to each other, and it’s weird. Unusual. Unnatural. 

Calum can’t ignore the pounding heart in his chest. As he watches the girl in front of him with her hair tied back and tired eyes, rock Duke back and forth as he plants kisses all over her face, he can’t help but remember the sweet memories of being able to witness that everyday. Duke loved her. Y/N loved him. Calum loved the both of them with everything in his heart. When she left, not only did Calum feel the void in his life, but his dog felt it too. And neither of them liked it whatsoever. 

Before Y/N can notice that Calum’s eyes were resting on her and Duke for a little longer than expected, Ashton rolls up in his car with the windows down. “Good morning lovebirds! Ready to go?”

“Shut the fuck up man.”

—

Checking in was fairly easy. Not overcrowded, no lineups for TSA and no overweight luggage, which Calum was pleasantly surprised to hear, because he expected that from Y/N. All they had to do now was wait until their plane was ready for boarding.

Sat beside each other, Calum glanced at Y/N’s phone, who was currently writing on her Notes app. “What’s that?” He asked her, pointing to her phone. “Oh, it’s nothing,” She sheepishly smiles in response. “I just did some research on what to do when we get there so I’ve been jotting down a bunch of good restaurants, nightclubs, hiking trails and all that.” 

He's unable to control the smile that forms on his face while she switches between her Safari and Notes tab, doing as much research as she can. “Always admired that ‘bout you. Always knowing what to do.” He simply stated. “Cause you never knew what to do!” She responded, causing the both of them to let out a chuckle. 

“You can’t lie, some surprise date ideas I had were pretty fuckin’ fire. You were pretty impressed by them, especially that rooftop dinner one for our one year?”

Y/N rolls her eyes at his statement but feels an immense amount of warmth from the memory of them two, getting wine drunk and enjoying some Alfredo pasta. “Didn’t you get Luke to help you out with that?” She asks him with a smirk on her face. Calum’s smile falls and turns into a pout, “I did most of the work!” 

“I know you did, I’m just teasing,” She responds, going back to her notes full of things to do, food to eat, and places to visit. “When we land, would you rather try this barbecue place or this ramen place? I think we land sometime around eleven, so maybe ramen would be a better dinner, cause it’ll be colder by the time we get there. But both restaurants close pretty late, so whatever’s up to yo-“

“Love, we have fourteen hours to decide that. Don’t get so worked up, we’ll talk about it when we land.” Calum cuts her off, placing a finger on her lip to keep her from speaking anymore. Y/N nods quickly, pretending to lock her lips and throw away the key, somewhere in that airport. 

The silence at six in the morning was fairly peaceful, enjoying the quiet due to the lack of commotion. Calum feels as if he could fall asleep right at this moment. He hesitantly shuffles closer towards Y/N, and rests his chin on her shoulder, closing his eyes. He hopes he’s not overstepping and making her uncomfortable. But from the way she moves her hand to fluff his hair up a little, he thinks his question is answered. 

“You tired?” She softly asks, looking down at the man with big, puffy, brown eyes. “‘Course I am. Too early for this.” He yawns. She lets out a soft giggle, responding with, “I had always thought you were more of a morning person than I am.” 

“I mean at one point I was, but things have changed. Can barely get up past eleven on my free days.” He whispers. “Yeah you’re right, things have changed…” She trails off, zoning out into the blue carpet beneath her. “Like what?” He asks. 

“I wake up at five am to get ready for work now.” Y/N simply states, causing Calum to get up from his position on her shoulder and look at her with wide eyes. “Why?!” He asks in shock. “Transferred locations, I work in Downtown now instead of in the plaza near my house. It sucks, but I get paid more, so it's kind of worth it.” 

“Never thought you could be capable of that.”

“Trust me, it wasn’t easy at first.” 

Silence. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but silence is the last thing they’re used to when it comes to each other. They used to go for hours and hours speaking, laughing, and everything in between. They definitely had worries about the awkward aspect of this vacation, but now that they’re now — actually — in the position, it’s biting them both. And now, Y/N can feel her shoulders tense up and Calum can feel his jaw tighten. 

“Are you scared?” Calum asks her. He knows it’s a difficult conversation to have, but it’s either now or never. He doesn’t want to have to spend half the time in Japan worrying about it. 

“Of what?” Y/N replies, already half knowing what the boy beside her is talking about. “You know what.”

“Do you want me to answer that honestly?” 

He looks at her with a confused expression. “What kind of question is that? Of course I do.” 

Here she goes. 

“Yeah, I’m scared. I’m scared and I’m terrified and I’m nervous. I lowkey feel like my head is about to explode and I literally keep feeling like I need to pee when I really don’t,” She rambles, running her fingers through her head and groaning. “I’m like, not the only one that feels this way too, right?” 

Calum laughs lightly at her nervous rambling. “No, you’re not. Shit has been messing with my head ever since I woke up this morning. Ever since I found out we had no other choice to go together, actually. I feel so scared, but like, not in a paranoid way. More of like, in an I’m gonna shit myself’ way. Do you get it?” 

“Yes, and no…? What the fuck kind of example was that?” Y/N laughs, resulting in Calum giving her a light shove. “Well, what are you scared of?”

“You go first.” 

“No, I asked you first.”

“Actually Y/N, I asked you first which is why this conversation even started. Now answer.”

“Well.. before these last couple of weeks, the last time I’d properly seen you was when we… you know. And we both know it wasn’t on the best of terms. We kind of just.. left it at what it was. Which I do regret. And now we’re here, having to go on this trip that we forgot about and couldn’t find a solution for. I’d be lying if I said that I was ecstatic to be here, but I’d also be lying if I said that this was the worst possible thing to ever happen to me. I just, don’t wanna spend this vacation with a bunch of tension between us and feeling like you hate me. We’ve pushed aside whatever’s happened between us for the brief times we’ve been around each other, but now it’s just us. We’re kind of forced to face it. And I guess I was scared of talking about it as well? I was scared about how you feel towards me. For a good chunk of time, I thought you hated me. And I don’t know, I’m not the best with confrontation, and I know you’re not one to put your feelings out on the line without hesitation. So..” 

He nods at her slowly, taking the time to process everything that she’s said. Yeah, she did end up rambling just a little bit, but he understands. It makes sense to him, and he feels the same way. Y/N notices the silence from Calum, which gets her just a little bit nervous, “Oh no. Did I fuck vacay up before it even started?” 

Calum’s head snaps up towards her, shaking his head to reassure her. “No, no, no. I was just taking it all in. You didn’t fuck anything up. I feel the same way. I was scared you’d want nothing to do with me, and I was honestly surprised at the kindness you’ve been treating me with. We’re not good at talking about this kind of shit, I know. But I want to make this trip as laid back as possible.” Y/N nods, urging him to continue. “If you want to talk about.. that night, we can. If you don’t want to, we don’t have to. I just want us to be on the same page for the next two and a half weeks. I’m still me, and you’re still you. It’s just us. We know us. I know things aren’t the same as they were before, but at the end of the day, you’re Y/N and I’m Calum. And we get along. For the most part at least.” He jokes at the end, earning a soft laugh from her. 

“Yeah, for the most part,” She responds, flashing him a tired smile. “Would you rather talk about it now, or later? Also could be never, it’s up to you.” 

“What do you want?” He asks, Y/N shaking her head in response.

“No, what do you want?” 

“Don’t do this.” 

“That’s exactly what I’m doing.” 

“But-“ 

“Good morning, passengers. This is the boarding announcement for Flight 1120 to Tokyo, Japan. We are now inviting passengers to begin boarding at this time. We kindly ask that you have your boarding pass and identification ready. Last boarding call will begin in approximately fifteen minutes. Thank you!”

“I guess it can wait, just a little longer then,” Calum says, silently thanking the universe for the time collision. He wasn’t ready to tell her the truth, not just yet. He gets up from his seat, brushes off his pants and extends his arm out. “Ready to go, Miss Y/N?” 

She gladly takes his hand, with her luggage in the other, getting up from her seat as well. “As ready as I’ll ever be, Mr. Calum.” 

—

“Miss Y/N, since we’ve landed, have you decided between that ramen or barbecue place you were contemplating on back in LA?” 

Eleven hours, a solid nap, and a missed meal later, the pair had finally arrived in the heart of Tokyo. The plane ride went decently well, to say the least. Turbulence had slightly frightened Y/N, resulting in her having to clutch onto Calum’s arm as they took off. She ended up falling asleep with her hands still wrapped around his forearm, her head falling onto his shoulder. Before Calum could even process the nature of the situation, he had knocked out as well. Which led them to missing out on the food that was being passed around.

“Hmm.. I’m gonna have to go with ramen. It’s closer, and I’m starving.” Y/N responds, rubbing her tummy. “Ramen it is,” Calum laughs, mimicking her actions. “Do we need to call a taxi? Or is it walking distance?”

Y/N takes out her phone and quickly opens Google Maps, holding it out and trying to match the direction they were supposed to walk. “Seven minute walk. You ready?” She asks. 

“Lead the way, Miss Aux Cord.”

It’s a comfortable temperature at 11 P.M. in Tokyo. It’s warm, but cold enough to wear sweatpants and a hoodie without sweating. Which was pretty lucky for Y/N, Calum, and their sweatsuits.

Calum swears the stars shine brighter here than they do in Los Angeles. He can’t help but admire the numerous small bright dots in the sky, looking up for a brief moment every few seconds. 

Calum has to stop himself from wrapping his arms around Y/N’s body, looking away from her every time he gets the sudden urge. He’s so used to being able to touch her without any worry. Grabbing her hand while they're walking, coming up from behind and grabbing her waist while she’s making breakfast, and sticking an arm out half asleep, reaching for her body to pull her closer. It’s so natural for him, and it had been that way for the past three years of his life. And it took him some time to adjust to the lack of Y/N that was now his new normal. He got used to it, eventually, but that doesn’t mean he wanted to. 

He squeezes his eyes shut in an attempt to get rid of his feelings, but it fails to work. He looks at her, and feels the same butterflies he had in his stomach from five years ago, as if nothing has changed. He hopes he can manage his feelings for two and a half weeks. He told himself so, so many times before: Do not let things get complicated due to you not knowing how to love. Easier said than done, however. As he takes one too many glances at the woman beside him, he comes to the realization that this trip is going to be one hell of a challenge. And that she’s the golden prize.

Y/N eyes linger around the main street the two of them were currently walking on, eyeing the neon signs and different vehicles driving on the road. She takes a mental snapshot of places she hadn’t seen while doing her research, noting to try and hit those places during their time here. She doesn’t notice the way he keeps looking at her, with that bittersweet, yet lovestruck expression. She doesn’t notice the way his fists ball up to prevent himself from reaching out for her. And, of course she doesn’t notice the outrageous pounding in his chest, unaware of the effect that she still has on the boy right beside her.

It’s nice, though. It’s really nice, actually. Despite their long plane ride resulting in tired bodies, they’re feeling good. They feel comfortable — as comfortable as exes that end on not-so-good terms can get. But their conversation back in the Los Angeles airport is still unfinished. Y/N’s not ready to own up to her feelings, and Calum’s not ready to bring up the conversation himself. 

So they sit across from each other, sipping and slurping their ramen noodles and broth, trying to think of anything, absolutely anything, to talk about. Anything but their feelings.

“When did you write Woke Up In Japan?” She curiously asks, referring to the song on their most recent album. She was indeed there for the release, but things had gotten south not too long after. And the time to converse with the bassist about his band’s album never came.

“Well,” Calum swallows his noodles. “I think we got it started towards the end of the Sounds Live Feels Live tour. Then remember that little promo tour we went on? That’s when everything came to us.” She nods in response, a small smile forming on her face as she sips on the bowl of soup. “Youngblood is so good dude,” She tells him, causing his face to turn into a cheeky grin. “Not sure if any other album of yours is gonna top that one.” “Oh, really?” He smirks at her in response, and Y/N nodding back. 

Calum gets up from his seat and quickly pays for the meal, Y/N trailing behind him as they wait outside for the nearest taxi. “Last time I checked, your favourite was Talk Fast.” He continues the conversation, lighting up a cigarette from a pack he forgot he had in his jacket. “How did that get through security?” 

“You’re right, Talk Fast is number one. But recently, it’s been Why Won’t You Love Me. That, or like, Meet You There. That one fucks.” She replies, getting into the nearest taxi that had stopped for them. She notices that her phone lights up, indicating that she’s gotten a text message. She assumes it’s just Gabriella checking on her, but she’s surprised to see one of their old friends that they had reached out to about the tickets. 

hey i can take ur japan tix now !! 

She can’t help but laugh out loud, causing Calum to look at her funny. She shows him the text she had just gotten, and he lets out a snort as well. “A little late for that, no?”

“Just a little bit.”

–

taglist: @someinsanefangirl @lucyjafari @i-s-a-b-e-l-l-a-o @valesnicks @juhvette @perfctcalum @bohemianhargrove @fobodob @wldflwrbby @wiiildflowerrr @fangirl-candy @asmilinghopefullromantic @jazzymariexoxoc @caramelcalum @imightcry-blog @leomoonbaby @dreaded-awakening @mytlrh @noraskaar @sonoma @sunkissedruel @rafeyybabyy

[genshin-obsessed]

Highly unlikely- but what if they accidentally hurt you with their vision/elemental powers? I know that they probably can’t, but what if?

I mean... what if Kaeya cools it in your direction 👀 I hope you like it! Since the limit is it at five and you didn’t specify, I just chose some myself💖 I only picked 3. THE VENTI BANNER IS JUST 💖💖 by my lovely 🎭 anon💖

He cried. Don’t judge but the day he accidentally shot you in the leg with one of his charged attacks, he cried.

He felt so bad that he apologized EVERY MINUTE the first day. It got so annoying, so quickly.

You know he didn’t mean it, but he couldn’t help it. He hurt you and he felt so bad.

While you healed, he spent 24/7 doing anything and everything you wanted. Like a personal servant.

Well… you see… the Wolf Within accidentally hit you.

He was practicing, you know, sparring on his own, when you came up behind him. He didn’t hear you, he slammed you on the ground, and the claws shredded through your skin.

He screamed out, almost as if he’d been hurt. He immediately got you help but blamed himself.

He apologized so much and actually avoided you. He just hated himself for letting you get hurt.

It took some convincing but he finally forgave himself. The thing is, it was a lasting memory. Ever since then, he never releases the Wolf Within unless he sees you standing 10 ft away. Even in fights, he’s ALWAYS careful.

He also didn’t see you nearby when he’d hit you with his burst attack. It was actually during a fight with some hilichurls. 

He accidentally swung his claymore and hit you.

He panicked and immediately got you help. He was so scared of TOUCHING you. He actually kept his distance, like physical distance. He didn’t avoid you, but he wouldn’t get more than three feet close to you.

You had to sit him down and talk him out of that mindset. You told him it was ok, it was an accident, and you didn’t blame him.

He finally came around but whenever you’re fighting, he needs to see you. You stay in his line of sight so he can never hurt you again.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

Vampy come down for family dinner and help clean up like he wasn’t just defiling their daughter 10 minutes ago

Harry would rail the fuck out of her in her closet with one hand over her mouth and another around her throat, grunting absolute filth into her ear as she spills over him with muffled whines and sobbed pleas. He’d lick her clean, pull her panties and leggings back up her quaking thighs, and proceed to buckle his slacks casually while she props herself against the wall, trembling and panting.

He just leans forward and presses a chaste kiss between her sweaty brows, her skin sticky against his lips as he murmurs smugly. “I’m gonna go finish cleaning up the kitchen with your mum. Come back down after you’ve sorted yourself out, and don’t forget to wipe your makeup off. It’s smeared down your face.”

Y/N does as he says, wiping the watery steaks of mascara off her cheeks and fixing her wild hair, making sure to leave no evidence of their little escapade, lest Harry end up sleeping outside on the yard. When she finally gets back down to her living room (she takes the stairs extra carefully, her belly throbbing with each step), the vampire is sitting in the rocking chair next to her mother’s, swaying lightly as they chat away nonchalantly.

They’re laughing and gossiping, their hands occupied with all types of yarn and needles, and she always forgets that Harry had learned how to knit when he was younger. It’s so baffling to see him engaging innocently with her mom, his nimble fingers expertly working on a multicolored scarf as he does so, not sparing the piece the slightest glance due to how confident he is in his skills. The reason it’s especially startling is because those fingers had been inside her not even five minutes ago.

“So we were running around this lake near my house,” Harry explains candidly, clearly in the middle of telling a story from his past as his digits weave in and out amidst red and purple yarn, “and we were playing in the snow near the banks, which was our first mistake. My mother had told me that the snow around the shores tended to be really slushy, so if we weren’t careful, we’d end up slipping really easily. We didn’t listen, of course— what ten year old does? We were playing tag with the neighbors, and as I was chasing after Gemma, I accidentally shoved her a bit too hard and she slipped and fell right into a pile of muddy snow. Completely stained everything she was wearing.”

Her mom releases a disappointed hiss, giving him a sympathetic glance over the glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. “Poor thing.”

Harry nods in agreement, looping yarn over his needles as he extends the scarf over his lap for more space, continuing his labor. “My mum grounded me for a week, and I spent that entire time learning to knit so I could remake Gemma’s mittens, since I was the one that ruined them. It was a fair punishment, honestly, and I ended up liking it more than I thought. Plus, the mittens I made were way better than the original pair. You just can’t buy this type of talent anywhere.”

The older woman laughs boisterously at his self-absorbed joke, which results in Harry smiling to himself proudly, giggling along.

Y/N clears her throat softly, leaning against the archway that leads into the room and crossing her arms over her chest in a relaxed manner, quirking an eyebrow at both of them as she makes her presence known. “Having fun?”

Harry glimpses over at her, his eyes raking down her body to where she’s clasping her thighs tightly, irises gleaming with knowing condescension. “Loads.”

“Harry was just telling me about when he learned to knit!” Y/N’s mother chirps, sending a warm smile towards the boy sitting across from her, unaware of the fact that he’d been defiling her daughter not too long ago. “It’s not often that you find a young man with this type of interest. He’s a keeper, sweetheart.”

“Hear that?” The immortal gloats teasingly, wagging his brows playfully as he holds up his unfinished accessory. “I’m a keeper.”

“Mm.” His girlfriend hums sarcastically, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling to avoid giving him any satisfaction. “I bet you’re just loving all this praise, aren’t you?”

Harry whistles lowly, tutting in a chastising fashion. “Someone’s jealous.”

Y/N rectifies her posture, an appalled expression cracking over her features. “Am not!”

“Are to.”

“Am not.”

“Are to.” Harry insists doggedly, looking over at the older woman for support. “Isn’t she?”

Her mom studies her for a moment, clicking her tongue scoldingly. “I think maybe you are, honey. Just a bit.”

Harry cranes his head back towards Y/N, sticking his tongue out mockingly behind the woman’s back and scrunching up his face comically, flaunting his childish point.

“Plus, Harry was sweet enough to make you that scarf he’s working on. You should be more grateful.”

Harry softens his eyes dramatically, sugaring his voice into a honeyed drawl that only she can read through. “Yeah, Y/N. I’m going out of my way to make you this nice gift, and that’s the thanks I get?”

“Dickhead.” The girl grumbles pettily, shifting on her feet as she glowers at him.

Her mother glares at her accusingly. “Language! I taught you better than that!”

“Mm. You should be more careful with what you say; words hurt more than you know.” Harry tacks on with a snide grin, shrugging his brows daringly as he slips an innuendo into his next line. “Mouthing off like that could get you into a whole lot of trouble.”

The pit of her tummy throbs at his curtained challenge, her eyes narrowing as she bites back the urge to curse him out again. “Thanks for the moral advice, Aristotle, but I’m grown enough to face the consequences of my own actions.”

Harry slowly puts down his knitting needles onto the small table beside him, picking up the scarf laying across his thighs and rolling it out in its entirety. It’s now that she realizes the item is much too thin width-wise to be scarf— it looks more like a belt, similar to the strap used to tie off a robe. The vampire flickers his gaze over to Y/N’s mom to make sure she’s not watching, and once he sees the lady is once again preoccupied with her knitting, he trains his attention back onto his partner.

He lifts the long colorful band up to his neck, tying one end around his throat loosely and wrapping the excess length around his knuckles, giving the article a symbolic tug. Y/N’s cheeks burst with heat at the crude reenactment, suddenly coming to terms with what he’s actually created under the guise of a harmless statement piece: it’s a makeshift collar.

Harry watches her avidly, a sinister smirk carving his dimples into place once he sees she’d understood his implication. He yanks the leash from around his neck swiftly before he gets caught, rolling the material back up neatly to disguise it. He cocks his head to the side conceitedly, his accent slathered with the same amount of arrogance as his gesture. “You never know, dove. Sometimes the consequences might be too much for you to handle.”

[wondernus]

12: We're on a boat!

pairing: professor!seungcheol x baker!reader sm au

chapter genre: fluff

chapter warnings: cursing, mentions of food and TONS of alcohol (it’s new year’s eve)

wc: 2.1k

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“Minghao, that was disgusting,” you grimaced at the aftertaste the alcohol left in your mouth, passing your empty shot glass back to your friend. The ten of you were crowded around Seungkwan’s car in the parking lot by the dock, pregaming before heading onto the yacht for the New Year’s celebration event. Vernon and Chan dropped some of you off earlier and immediately drove away after seeing Minghao’s usually calm aura change into a rather sinister one. The World Literature professor had somehow been able to sneak a bottle of kaoliang liquor and some shot glasses in the inner pocket of his blazer and was currently getting everybody in your group to finish the entire bottle before going in.

All of you were at least three drinks in, and you didn’t know if it was the alcohol talking or the fact that you were surrounded by the people you loved, but you were having a great time. The boys were clumped together on the dancefloor, Seungkwan and DK having an intense dance battle while Wonwoo laughed and clapped from behind. The rest of the boys had their arms around each other and swayed to the beat of the music, singing at the top of their lungs. You and Hoshi were sitting at the bar within eye distance of the boys, both harboring a glass of iced water in your hands. Seungkwan’s motherly instincts immediately went into full effect after his drunk radar went off after seeing you and Hoshi try to leave your group a few times hand-in-hand to dance battle strangers around you. He decided to put you two in “time-out” for the next few minutes. However, when a familiar beat came on, Seungkwan and Seokmin started shouting for Hoshi to join them, the “time-out” rule completely forgotten. The man sitting beside you hesitated for a minute before turning to you with pleading eyes and a pout. You nodded for him to go, and he immediately jumped off of his barstool to run to the group, not before hugging you and shouting, “You know where to find us, right?” to which you shouted back it was pretty hard to lose the group when the three tallest men in the club belonged to your group. Soon the trio was screaming the lyrics to their favorite song while an all familiar “Go Soonyoung. Go Soonyoung. Go Soonyoung” filled the air. You sat and smiled at the rowdy group.

Unfortunately, the water wasn’t working because the longer you sat on the barstool, the drunker you got. You winced at the brightness of your phone screen and immediately regretted not setting your phone to night mode. Vernon was updating you on his pancake adventure with Chan and the baby. Your stomach growled at the sight of the stacks of pancakes, and you suddenly had an urge to buy the overpriced food they were selling above deck. Just then, someone tapped you on your shoulder, and you turned around to see a very familiar face you haven’t seen in a while.

Unfortunately, the water wasn’t working because the longer you sat on the barstool, the drunker you got. You winced at the brightness of your phone screen and immediately regretted not setting your phone to night mode. Vernon was updating you on his pancake adventure with Chan and the baby. Your stomach growled at the sight of the stacks of pancakes, and you suddenly had an urge to buy the overpriced food they were selling above deck. Just then, someone tapped you on your shoulder, and you turned around to see a very familiar face you haven’t seen in a while.

“Dr. Yoon?” you were definitely drunk. There was no way he was here. Have you manifested the image of him for so long that he would literally show up when you least expected?

“Oh yn!” he was grinning while holding two paper trays filled with fries. “You want some fries?”

It turned out Dr. Yoon, who reintroduced himself as Jeonghan, lost his friend a while back while buying fries and spent the last few minutes walking around, trying to convince the random people around him to take his extra tray of fries. It never really occurred to him that people usually wouldn’t accept food from strangers, especially at clubs, until you told him. The two of you managed to drunkenly run to one of the booths at the side and snag it immediately after it cleared up. Even more so, Jeonghan spent the last few minutes catching up with you and feeding you the greasy fries while you desperately tried to sober up - your whole upper half leaned against him like he was your life support. He repeatedly reassured you and said that he found it cute, but you only felt more embarrassed. You were never going to pregame with Minghao ever again. Kaoliang liquor was dangerous.

-----

“Dude, I can’t believe we lost yn,” Seungcheol was going to have a mental breakdown, which, by the way, was definitely not a good feeling to have when drunk. He recalled sitting you and Hoshi down at the bar and keeping an eye on you two before blacking out after Minghao and Jun returned to the group with another round of shots. The next thing he knew, he was sitting on one of the sofas on the deck of the yacht, the other boys sprawled out next to him, the cold ocean breeze cool against his skin.

“Did we miss the countdown?” Jun rubbed his eyes and shoved Hoshi’s sleeping body off of his. Wonwoo shook his head letting him know that they didn’t miss the countdown.

Woozi approached the group with a grin on his face. There was a man walking alongside him who seemed to be his acquaintance. “Guys,” Woozi addressed the group, causing the men to groan and look up at him, “This is my coworker, Joshua.”

His friend waved at the group and his eyes widened in excitement after realizing who was in front of him, “Dude, you never told me you were friends with the Twitter dilfs.”

Accepting Joshua into the group was fairly easy. He also lost his friend who came with him and spent the last half hour wandering around the yacht before he bumped into Woozi who was in line for the restroom. He reassured Seungcheol that his yn friend he was continuously calling for was going to be fine because everybody in their friend group had yn’s location and what was yn going to do? Swim? Luckily, yn texted Mingyu earlier and told him that they were fine, and Seungcheol sighed in relief. The boys quickly accepted Joshua into the group after Woozi told him to buy them all a round of shots to which Joshua replied, “Who do you think I am? The next three rounds are on me,” garnering an eruption of cheers from his new friends.

Just like that, they were back on the dancefloor ten minutes before the countdown, blackouts and hangovers completely forgotten, drunker than ever. They made a last-minute plan to ditch the dancefloor and celebrate the new year on the ship's deck after being pushed by a mob of people in all directions. They were practically a fresh and unbroken set of pool balls waiting for someone to start the match at that point. The fresh air they felt was a great complement to their sweaty skin, and it was nice to not need to shout at others while the bass from the speakers constantly reverberated in their ears. There were still a few minutes left until the countdown. Seungkwan, Seokmin, and Soonyoung were still gone after previously stating that they needed to use the restroom together. In the distance, Mingyu, Jun, and Joshua, who left to take pictures, all let out a collective scream and jumped up and down in excitement.

“I can’t believe it finally happened.”

“You too? We’ve been rooting for them since the first pineapple bun.”

Before Seungcheol could turn around to look at what caused the commotion, Jihoon made a joke about daring Soonyoung to jump overboard and was immediately lectured by Wonwoo who dragged Seungcheol along with him. An announcement blared through the speakers that the countdown would start in a minute and the bakery boys yelled at the rest of the group to join them.

-----

10! Seungkwan, Seokmin, and Soonyoung managed to return to the group just in time, but not without a tray of free tequila shots from the different patrons around them. Apparently, the people around them really enjoyed their company, whether it was when they were tearing it up on the dance floor or whether it was when they were joking with those waiting in the long line for the restroom. Jun looked at the shots with so much fear in his eyes while Minghao patted him on his back.

9! Jeonghan and you also spent the last hour receiving free drinks from those around you left and right.

“People must be very generous tonight,” you thought out loud.

“Yeah, I definitely haven’t been telling them that we’re newly engaged,” Jeonghan winked at you.

The both of you were standing on the deck of the superyacht, leaning against the railing. The captain dropped the yacht's anchor a while back when the yacht reached a place where one could turn back to see the twinkling lights coming from docks and piers from the ocean. The yacht gently rocked with the waves, and you were happily wrapped in Jeonghan’s arms, your drunkness a now numb and tingly sensation. The two of you were staring at the ocean and admiring how pretty the night sky was on that particular day. You didn’t see it, but he was smiling at you like you were the greatest thing in the world – like the feeling of biting into a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie, the edges crispy and the center gooey, both the chocolate and dough melting into one.

8! Seokmin handed Seungcheol a shot.

7! Mingyu complained about there being no lime and salt.

6! Seungcheol heard a familiar laugh that made him forget about his surroundings for a split second.

5! Wonwoo put his arm around Seungcheol’s shoulder.

4! Jeonghan spun you around to face him.

3! Seokmin accidentally took his shot early.

2! Seungkwan quickly slipped his shot into the older boy’s hand and took the empty glass before the rest of the group took notice to what happened. It was fine. He was the designated driver after all.

1! The crowd erupted in cheers, and the group clinked their glasses and tilted their heads back to take their shots. Fireworks lit up the sky in a multitude of vibrant colors. Jun was busy yelling, “Chase with a smile. Chase with a smile,” at those who were complaining about the lack of lime and salt. Soonyoung was trying to hug Jihoon, who kept pushing him away until he finally gave in. It was a new year; he would allow it just once. Seungkwan was in the middle of recording a video of the group with his flash on which resulted in him accidentally blinding Seungcheol for a split second. This caused Seungcheol to turn away from the group to try to blink the dizziness away. When he finally recuperated, he couldn’t help but stare at the scene in front of him.

“Oh my god,” Seungcheol groaned, “I’m so glad we made the sexiling rule. They were literally sucking each other’s faces off. It was disgusting.”

Joshua raised his eyebrow at him. He also saw what happened. “Dude are you ok?” he questioned. “All they did was kiss once.”

The rest of the group quickly turned to see what Seungcheol was talking about and immediately burst into excitement when they realized who they were looking at. You broke away from Jeonghan and buried your face in his chest to hide in embarrassment when you recognized the group of voices calling your name. The man beside you jokingly covered you with his blazer to hide you when he realized you were flustered. It was a really cute and sweet sight, and it was custom to kiss someone on New Year’s. So why did seeing you kiss someone else make Seungcheol feel so annoyed?

the kids are going to be alright

synopsis: life as we know it (2010 film) au | when an unexpected accident leaves you and your blind date from five years ago to become caretakers of your mutual goddaughter, you are forced to learn how to navigate parenthood all while trying to balance work and social life.

a/n: join the taglist!

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taglist: @seokcalibur, @skylions-den, @semicolorn, @boowanie, @niikipuff, @serenadesvt, @tfmingyu, @jeonjungkaka, @shiningstar-byulxx, @onigiriyuki, @justasoftstan, @fr0gluver, @fairyjius, @happyvitamin, @noniesgirl, @hanniewife, @amymoonl, @melkwhore

unable to tag: @fairyjius, @hanniewife

[foli-vora]

counting stars

A/N: I apologise if this is a mess—I’ve just written this on my phone while camping in the middle of nowhere 😅 truly inspired by the outdoors hahah. Yes I’m sitting incredibly still in a spot that I found had cell service so I can upload this because I’m Impatient™️.

Pairing: Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x f!reader

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: depressive thoughts, insecurities, A SICKENING AMOUNT OF FLUFF

+++

The truck’s packed. That’s the first thing you notice when you pull into the driveway, eyeing the bags chucked neatly in the bed of the vehicle. The brief sharp stab of panic that impales your heart is drowned by a sickening twist of understanding. Of course he’d leave — why would he want you? Why would he waste time being with you when he could do so much better? You don’t blame him. You wouldn’t get in his way of leaving.

The sigh that leaves you as you exit your car is long and drawn out, each step towards the house drains the low level of energy you had leftover after your shift and you wonder if you’ll be in Frankie’s way if you take up the couch to sleep. Will he want to take the couch? He had bought it, after all. The bed, then. He wouldn’t leave you without a bed — maybe he’ll come back for it tomorrow.

Frankie’s coming down the stairs when you walk through the door, a dark backpack slung over his shoulder and Mena giggling in his arms. God you’re gonna miss those little giggles. He smiles when he sees you, dropping the bag next to a bright pink unicorn one on the floor before striding over to you.

You’re stumped when he slings an arm around your waist and brings you in close, hips bumping together, and Mena immediately dives in to press a wet kiss against your cheek. He kisses the other, sharing a little smile with his little girl before looking at you.

“You’ve got 10 minutes to pack some clothes.” He says, and you blink, stomach rolling.

Oh. Maybe he was packing your stuff.

Of course, it’s his house.

It’s in his truck because you couldn’t possibly fit everything in your car. He was helping you move out. He didn’t have to—you could have called a removal company or something. He shouldn’t have to go out of his way, especially with Mena.

You’re sullen as you answer, brushing past him with a quiet okay. The stairs are hard to climb, but eventually you reach your bedroom. You try not to look at the photos lining the walls—pictures of Mena, of her with Frankie or you, of all three of you, of you and Frankie snuggled together on various dates and trips, scribbles deemed masterpieces plastered proudly in expensive frames. Maybe you could ask for a few copies, or take the originals if he was just going to throw the ones of you away. Which he would, of course, why would he keep them?

He’s left a duffle on the bed for you—his old army one. He loves this one. He uses it for everything. You make a mental note to make sure to return it.

Tears choke your throat as you pack the bag, and it’s not until strong arms wind around your waist that they fall free. You won’t say no to a final hug. You try to memorise the tightness of his arms, the feel of his beard along your skin as he buries his face in your neck.

“You ready? Mena’s getting cranky,” you hear the chuckle in his voice and nod your head. He must feel the tension in your torso because immediately he’s turning you, frowning at the tears streaking your face. “What’s wrong, baby?” He’s gentle as he wipes them from your cheeks, the pinch between his brows deepening as your face crumbles in his hands.

“I don’t want to leave,” you admit, sniffling quietly, “but I will if that’s what you want. You and Mena deserve better.”

“What?”

“It’s okay—”

“No, it’s not.” Soon your face is pressed hard against his chest and he’s crushing you, hand tight on the back of your head as he holds you. “You’re not going anywhere, not without us, anyway. We’re going on a trip. All three of us—together.”

A trip? Your mind is a whirl as you try to catch up. He wasn’t leaving you? Or, more accurately, you weren’t moving out? Suddenly the packed bags, especially Mena’s unicorn one, and packed truck make a little more sense to your darkened mind, and you instantly relax in his arms.

He pulls back, dark eyes sad as he studies your face.

Frankie had watched you the last few days; watched your mood sour, watched the bags below your eyes deepen. You’d barely been sleeping — he could feel you toss and turn all night, could feel the shudder in your shoulders as you tried to keep your sobs quiet in fear of waking him. He’d seen the look of utter defeat wash your face when you accidentally spilt the milk trying to make a coffee yesterday, seen the immediate glaze of tears as he wiped the spill away. You were gone before he could even turn and comfort you, the door slamming as you all but ran to your car.

He knew what was happening—could recognise the signs a mile away after having to defeat his own monster lurking in the back of his mind telling him he wasn’t good enough, reminding him of all the awful things he’d done in his life, what he’d done to others. He’d gone straight to work, said he wouldn’t be able to do any shifts on the weekend, and had left at lunch to start packing.

“I love you.”

Your face falls, head shaking in automatic denial.

“I do,” his touch is gentle, brushing more tears away with his thumbs. “I know you’ve been struggling lately. I’m sorry for not saying anything—I should’ve made it clear when you came home. We’re going camping for the weekend, unless you don’t feel up to it which is fine. We can just order a pizza, cuddle up on the couch and watch movies if that sounds better.” He smiles warmly, reassuringly, and you know in your heart that he really truly doesn’t mind what you decide to do.

How you ever landed Francisco Morales, you’ll never know.

“No, I want to go.”

“Are you sure? Please don’t be scared to say no—”

“I want to go.”

For the first time for what feels like all week, you smile, and actually mean it.

His eyes flick across your face, searching for any signs of hesitation, and then he grins, your eyes automatically falling to admire the dimple creasing his cheek. You kiss it instinctively, relief washing through you as your mind and hearts calms. He stops you as you pull away, leaning in and letting his nose run along yours before pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

He helps you put some clothes together, and with the two of you, you’re packed within a few minutes. He holds your hand on the way down the stairs, but stops to collect all the bags while you grab the little girl pulling at your legs. She babbles to you excitedly as you follow Frankie out of the house, her little fingers habitually pulling and fiddling with the chain around your neck.

You try to fend off the overwhelming feelings of unworthiness while you listen to Frankie talk animatedly back to Mena as you buckle her into her car seat, her little voice loud and bubbly as she claps her hands and bounces in her seat. You try to smile, try to reassure yourself that Frankie loves you, that Mena loves you, but you struggle truly believing it. How could they?

Music’s soon blaring throughout the cab of the truck as the familiar houses of your neighbourhood fly past, the Spotify playlist Frankie spent a good hour finding and adding songs to filling the quiet. He sings along, grinning at Mena’s attempts to sing along in her own little language, and when he looks at you, eyes shining with adoration, your chest feels tight and constricted.

You really didn’t deserve these two.

It takes a couple of hours to get to Frankie’s favourite spot—somewhere familiar to you from the many times he had taken you there. The small clearing is the same as it always has been, the large logs still situated around a small burnt patch of ground where leftover charred logs sat from previous campers. Frankie’s quick to erect the tent and organise the bedding inside, and soon he’s joining you and Mena at the edge of the wide lake glowing under the fading sun.

She’s dancing in the sand, little bare feet kicking up the grains as she twirls and twists and giggles when she goes too far and her toes touch the cool water. You sink to the ground and hug your legs, content to watch her enjoy the last bit of sunlight before it sinks beneath the horizon with a longing to feel as wild and carefree as she does.

“Papa!”

Frankie answers her call with a loud playful growl, and soon she’s squealing as he chases her across the sandbank. He catches her, throws her over his shoulder and spins, laughing at her wild screams of delight as he tickles her sides. Your chest warms, and the smile tugging at your lips is automatic as Mena runs on unsteady legs back to you, curls bouncing in her pigtails as she escapes Frankie’s arms and bolts to you for safety.

“Mama!” She climbs into your arms and your face drops in shock, wide eyes blinking up at Frankie who’s stopped dead behind her. The grin that widens his face practically blinds you, his eyes immediately shining with a sheen of tears as he drops beside you and smothers you both with a hug, pressing loud kisses to wherever he could reach. Mena giggles, pulling away to look between the pair of you with sparkling dark eyes. Little arms wind around both you and Frankie as she cuddles you close, her little head falling tiredly against your chest.

You catch Frankie looking at you, and return his fond gaze, smiling shyly under his admiration. The three of you snuggle together as the sun disappears, throwing bright hues of pink and orange across the cloudy sky, and finally, the tight feeling in your chest lessens under the pressure of two pairs of loving arms. Finally—you feel like you can breathe.

Frankie pipes up soon after the sun sets, “Who’s hungry?”

Mena’s head pops up instantly, the sleepiness that was just weighing her body down seemingly vanishing at the mention of food. She wiggles off your lap, and runs back to the campsite leaving you and Frankie chuckling quietly to yourselves as you follow. He and Mena sit together while he builds a fire, and you hear him talk through the process, Mena watching with curious eyes as he stacks the wood and lights it.

You all stay huddled together as the chill of the night drops over the camp site, sharing quiet laughs and keeping Mena entertained until her eyes start to drop. You stay mostly quiet, happy to just witness the two loves of your life share in each other’s affections.

Soon you and Frankie are left alone once Mena succumbs to sleep, and he brings two cups out with his phone playing quiet music, wiggling the bottle of whiskey he had hidden in his bag mischievously after putting her down in the tent. He pours a generous amount into both before sinking onto the log beside you, watching the flames dance in the dark before nudging you softly.

“Talk to me, baby.”

Sighing, your finger traces the rim of the cup and you shrug helplessly. “I don’t know. I just... I haven’t been feeling like myself lately.”

He nods, “Has something happened?”

You purse your lips, thinking over the last few weeks. Nothing jumps out and you shrug again, frowning at the flames. “No. My head just... I don’t know. I’m happy with my life—I love you, more than anything, and Mena, too... my job is fine—everything’s fine, but... my head just...” you struggle to finish your sentence, frown deepening.

You’re not making any sense. You never make sense. How can you possibly turn the jumble of thoughts in your head into words and make him understand? You barely understood it all yourself. What did you have to be upset over? Your life was picture perfect. Perfect man, perfect daughter, perfect job, a home full of love... so many people had it worse. You shouldn’t feel the way you do.

You must’ve spoken aloud because the next minute Frankie is reaching for your hand, rubbing the skin soothingly.

“I get it.” He says quietly, shooting you a comforting smile when you blink up at him, tears filling your eyes. “Our minds can be cruel sometimes, but just because there are others out there who may have it worse doesn’t take away from how you feel. You matter, just as much as others.”

You don’t try to stop the tears that fall from your eyes, instead letting them fall down your cheeks in a heavy flow. He moves closer in response, moving the arm holding your hand around your shoulder and pulling you in close to his side. The warmth from his body seeps into yours and you take a shaky breath as the tears continue.

“Is there anything I can do? Do you want to talk to someone? I know of a few good doctors around.”

Shaking your head, you lean your head on his shoulder and sigh deeply. “No, I think I’m alright for now, but if it gets worse...”

His arm tightens in response, and he nods quietly.

“I’m here for you, honey.” He murmurs, turning to kiss your forehead gently. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

You smile through your tears, turning to gaze up at him gratefully. “Thank you, Frankie.”

Quiet conversation starts up once the flow of tears dies off, and soon he has you in fits of laughter, the whiskey loosening the last bits of tension from your frame as it warms your insides. When Frankie’s favourite song comes on, he’s up before you can even make a comment, holding a hand out to you with a wide grin once he throws back the last of his drink and tosses his cup aside without a care.

“What?” You ask, eyeing his open palm with a grin.

“Dance with me.”

How could you ever say no? You couldn’t. Not to him. Your grin turns shy as you take his hand, letting him pull you up and off the log and into his frame. He holds you close, arms winding securely around you as you sway softly. The stars catch your attention when you rest your head on his shoulder, and you feel a lump growing in the back of your throat when Frankie starts to softly sing in your ear. It’s not depressive thoughts that have you on the verge of tears this time. Instead, your heart is damn near bursting, the flood of love for this man so strong you have to stop yourself from squeezing him too tight.

Your eyes flick to watch a shooting star, but instead of making a wish, you tuck yourself impossibly closer to Frankie. You didn’t need a wish—you had everything you needed already.

+

Tags: @anu-simps @seasonschange-butpeopledont @withasideofmeg @you-got-me-starry-eyed

[underworldreaderinserts]

Hey, this is my first time doing a request and I don’t know if this is the right place to put it (I hope it is). But I was wondering if you do do multiple characters, if you could do (separate) headcannons for Zagreus, Thanatos, and Hypnos falling for someone completely mortal on the surface? Thank you so much and I’m really sorry if I didn’t input my request correctly!

Hello, love! No, you did absolutely fine, this is exactly where you’re supposed to submit your requests♡ Thank you so much for sending it in! I hope it’s to your liking♡ I’m so sorry it took so long to publish. The past few days have been hectic! But I’m back♡ Do these even count as headcanons? I’m so sorry-- I know you asked for them separate, but I thought of them all together, and I accidentally made a poly circle. Since this post is long enough already, I’ll leave them out, but please let me know if you’d want me to make a post with them! I had so much fun imagining and writing it that I couldn’t help myself♡  -- Ryan

Thanatos:

✧ Your modest, mortal life hadn’t been too grandiose; you worked as a humble physician, tending to your village in ways of medication and treatment, everything between minor procedures and check ups.

     ✧ In your line of work, death was no stranger. It wasn’t very frequent that patients died in your care, but when they did -- whether it was a life lost to infection, injury, or illness -- they were only in extreme cases. (Needless to say, Thanatos had made all those visits to your practice)

✧ In the beginning, he'd refrained from any involvement in your life -- only watching over the soul whose allotted time was running out before reaping them, then departing. 

✧ But one day, he’d watched you fighting to keep your patient alive. Tears streaming down your face as you did everything in your power to stabilize the boy. His parchment read, ‘name; Nicos, age; 10, cause of death; injury by stampede’. 

     ✧ He knew that he’d have no other choice but to take the boy’s soul -- living with those irreversible damages would be a worse outcome.

✧ After that, he began to notice things he never did before. 

     ✧ The care you put in to making your patients comfortable before they passed. How you went above and beyond caring for them, and giving preventative measures to prolong their life (though he’d still be there to take the soul regardless, he’d watched as you did your best to preserve their life). All of it showed how limitless your strength was.

✧ “He’s.. doing fine. The boy.” You heard a voice one day, an unfamiliar one. You turn around from the bookshelf you stand before, holding a journal and a vial of ointment. 

     ✧ “Excuse me?” You blink, asking the stranger softly, taking in his features. He wasn’t from the village, you were aware of that. The village rarely had travelers passing through, and given this man’s robes and garments, you weren’t quite sure he was an ordinary man.

          ✧ “Nicos. He’s doing well.” The man wields his scythe, gently shifting its weight from one hand to the other. Your eyes widen as it dawns on you. “Than..atos?” Correctly identifying him, he seems to give a small bow of his head.

               ✧ You do as any sane person would, in the presence of a god; you drop everything in your hands and take a step back. You had enough reason to believe him -- after all, you knew everyone in this village, and Nicos had passed months before his arrival. There was no way he’d have known.

               ✧ “Are you... Is it my time?” You ask, leaving Thanatos a bit puzzled. “Are you here to collect my soul?” You repeat, and the understanding visually clicks in Thanatos, and he chuckles, shaking his head. Of course, you’d believe he’d come for your soul, as he’d only ever appeared before humans who have met their time. “Then... What is it you’ve come for?”

               ✧ You’d asked the million dollar question. Why had he even appeared before you? What was it that drew him out like this? “I... Can’t tell you myself. I just came to tell you, he’s doing well.” And with a toll of a bell, he’d disappeared. No word of goodbye, no mention of ever coming back.

               ✧ Reflecting on what had just happened; The God of Death himself had come into your home, just to tell you that Nicos was alright. It warmed your heart to take comfort in that, knowing that he was no longer in pain.

               ✧ Sitting on the situation a little longer, and judging by that little bit of information, it finally dawned on you that he was there, personally, for that event, and that he’d thought of you enough to reassure you.

✧ Due to his work, Thanatos makes frequent trips to the surface. 

✧ Frequent trips to the surface, meant frequent visits (where he could, of course. Lord Hades would have his head if he didn’t prioritize his job).

✧ At first, he refrained from any sort of involvement in your life -- he’d come for his job, and nothing more. But now he seeks you out. He’ll stop by to check in, or even just to see your face. And one thing differs now, when he comes to reap the soul’s whose allotted time had run out.

     ✧ “Take good care of them, Thanatos.” You’d smile softly as you place a coin over your patient’s mouth, voicing your little prayer to him. You said this each time, too, and it made him think you could see him.

✧ He wasn’t sure when it began, but thoughts of seeing you as he carried out his job filled him with a warm, soft feeling.

Hypnos:

✧ In charge of the census of the dead, Hypnos was aware of how everyone dies; when they died, and where they end up in the Underworld.

     ✧ He found that his job became so ingrained in his being that, when he’d drift off at work, his dreams would take him to visions of the lives of some of the mortals he had met, or have yet the pleasure of meeting when they come to the underworld.

          ✧ Most of these dreams always tie back to a particular individual -- someone who seems to touch the lives of everyone they’ve ever met.

✧ At first, he’d just assumed that you’d met and knew everyone in the world, as the only common denominator throughout these dreams was you. But upon further evaluation of that statement, he had determined that was impossible.

     ✧ Next, he had to admit that perhaps he was drawn to you. Whether it was a connection the Fates mandated, or it was his subconscious actively seeking you out, he’d have these visions of your life, these interactions with the people in your life.

          ✧ An image of your smile, the depiction of an experience you had. You’d invaded his dreams, and eventually his thoughts.

✧ Being shackled to the House, and without the luxury that Thanatos or Zagreus have to go to the surface, Hypnos only has a very one-sided means of interacting with you; and though he doesn’t know you, he’s very drawn to you.

✧ It’s curious. As he’s seen all these snippets of your life, he feels he simultaneously knows everything about you, yet nothing about you at all. He could see these candid shots of your life, but he doesn’t know your dreams, your ambitions, or even the sound of your voice.

✧ With his thoughts always falling back to you, he’s a bit more spacey on the job, receiving reprimands from Hades more and more often, looks judgement from his brother, and looks of solemn understanding from his mother.

✧ Achilles teases him, recognizing traits of “a lovesick puppy”, but never really gets an answer on what that means (he might even observe Cerberus for a while to see if he can understand it a little more).

✧ He awaits enthusiastically, and a tad bittersweetly, for your eventual arrival to the Underworld, desiring nothing more than to meet you, and to hear your experiences of life on the surface.

⚠️Spoilers Ahead!! ⚠️

Zagreus:

✧ Most of your mortal life is spent in Persephone’s vibrant and luscious gardens.

     ✧ You lived not too far from her cottage, and you made frequent visits to her, bringing her goods and gifts from the market, and the words from all the gossipers of the town.

          ✧ As far as you knew, she was the only one who lived here, and she didn’t seem to have any family of her own. Taking care of her gardens seemed to be her passion, and to be honest you enjoyed her company. There was something about her, so lively and inviting, that made it hard to stay away for long.

✧ Trips to Persephone were always fragrant, delicious, and warm, despite the permanent snow in the region. Conversations over meals, fishing by the river, and of course time spent in the garden where you got to watch your toils bear great produce.

✧ One day, you return to the cottage, a basket of bass and trout resting on your hip as you walk. The plan was to make a profit selling them in town, and use the coin to get better tools for the garden and the kitchen.

     ✧ Though, on the way to the cottage, you notice scorched earth in the shape of a bare footprints. The trail leads up to the garden, where you find Persephone with a man you’ve never seen before. A man like you’ve never seen before.

          ✧ You watch on as Persephone embraces this ethereal form, whose skin is much like ash and moonstone. He looked beyond out of place, yet, something about him felt so familiar.

               ✧ Focused on the two before you, carelessly unaware of your surroundings, you snap a branch under your foot, alerting them of your presence. The stranger flinched, tensing as he pulls his guard up. He turns to meet your eyes, and whatever words you’d formed in your mind vanished.

               ✧ One red, one green -- his eyes bore into yours as you admire his. That electrifying moment of attraction ends in time with Persephone clearing her throat.

               ✧ No one needed to say anything for you to recognize he’d had the same energy as Persephone. You could deduct immediately that he was her son. But nonetheless, Persephone’s words broke the silence, “[Y/N], This is... my son. This is Zagreus.”

               ✧ “Zagreus..” You sit a moment, tasting his name as it falls from your tongue, and it was something about the way you said his name that drew a shiver up his spine.

               ✧ “[Y/N]... Have you been here the whole time? How much did you hear? Do the Olympians know of you, too?” His questions went miles a minute, but made no sense to you. “Why would the Olympians...? What, do you mean the Gods?” You ask, and Zagreus exchanged a look to his mother, recognizing his own mistake.

               ✧ However, he’d reached his limit in that moment, and Zagreus clutched his chest, stumbling. Immediately, you drop your basket in worry, and go over to help him maintain his balance. Persephone placed her hand on your shoulder, and you watched as his body faded away.

✧ It was then, between that day and the next visit Zagreus paid to the garden, that the whole truth was told to you. How Persephone was actually the daughter of Demeter, the cause of the perpetual snow, and Zagreus was her son with the God of the Underworld, Hades.

✧ Since the day he’d met you in his mother’s garden, his curiosity was piqued. 

     ✧ How long had you been visiting his mother? If you hadn’t known she was a Goddess of Olympus, what was it that drove you to help her? His heart beat faster with his recount of your eyes, your voice, your worry as he felt the tug of the Styx back to the Underworld.

✧ His mission remained escaping to see his mother again, and again, but he found himself hoping each time that you were there.

     ✧ To try the food that you’d make for him. To hear the newest rumor that was spreading around the town. To help around the garden, and see you glow with happiness as each of the plants met maturity. 

✧ You’d invaded his mind, tugging at the strings of his heart -- and on the days when you were away from the garden, his mother had no problems teasing him about his crush on you. Though, she admits, if she’d have to give her only son away to anyone, it would absolutely be you.

[procrastinatorproject]

For the fic asks, two heart emoji and a clown walk into an ask box:

💖 What made you start writing?

💞 Who's your comfort character?

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

Ohhh, what illustrious guests! Thank you so much for visiting my inbox! Let's see....

Sparkly Heart (💖): What made you start writing?

For as long as I can remember, I have been making up stories in my head. I was fully 20 years old before I realized I could probably call this "daydreaming", for me it was always just "making up stories".

I started writing them down in earnest when I was... 11, I think? Took me a few more years to find out I had technically been writing something called "fanfiction", and other people did it, too!

I basically didn't read or write any fic for 10 years, before I slowly started to rediscover it in 2019. I couldn't even tell you what got the ball rolling. I'm pretty sure it was the discovery that this kind of story I had tended towards and always felt deeply ashamed for enjoying not only had a name (Hurt/Comfort), it was so incredibly popular it had a nickname (whump) and entire fests and huge communities dedicated to it! And then I discovered Musketeer fics and the wonderful, wonderful people writing them.

And then season 1 of Star Trek: Picard aired, and against my expectations, I fell instantly in love with it. And a lot of people whose Musketeers fics I loved also started getting into the Aramis in Space fandom. And I started out 2020 by thinking: "I'm going to start writing again. I'm going to write, and at some point, maybe in a year or so, I might have enough practice and be good enough that I dare post something I have written. Maybe."

Sharing the first bit of substantial writing I had created in ten years with a friend was one of the most insanely nerve-wrecking experiences, but it was also exhilarating! My conviction to wait and practice for a year or so before posting anything went out the window pretty quickly, and I posted the very first real story I had put on paper. The first story in my life I ever finished, I think. And then the dam was broken.

And MY GOD the amazing friends and community this adventure has brought me 🥰

Dancing Hearts (💞): Who's your comfort character?

Er... I think it's going to come as a surprise to absolutely no-one that it's Emil 🙈

I just... I love to read and write stories with this man in them. He is snarky and irreverent but also caring and kind, under the slightly exasperated exterior (because he is part of Rios, so how could he possibly be anything else?)

I have loved him from the very first moment he stalked onto my tv screen, and I can't wait to continue writing things to give him more life and adventures.

And I should probably mention the other holos, too. Those five hyper-competent disaster boys make me feel all warm and fuzzy and at home, and if I could only ever write stories about them for the rest of my life, I'd be content.

Clown Face (🤡): What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

The entirety of A Night at the Opera.

I laugh at my own jokes and my own writing A Lot. But this one... when I started dreaming up the idea for it, I think I spent a good fifteen minutes sitting in my armchair and just cackling like a maniac!

And then there were so many jokes and exchanges in it that just made me laugh out loud when they occurred to me, and then again when I wrote them down, and then again every time I reread them.

But as a taste, I am always going to be proud of this particular exchange (talking about the roomba-like cleaning bots):

Xyr leaned around the Tactical Hologram to get a better look, wincing as he accidentally put weight on his injured hand. “So, what exactly is it you hope to do with the bot if you catch it?”

“Emmet and I have some exciting ideas to increase their defensive capabilities”, Enoch replied, rising slightly from his crouch to get a look of the action over the top of the others’ heads.

“I don’t know, they already seem plenty capable. The way they keep disappearing to evade capture?”

[...]

“Just imagine what they could do with a few added features.” Enoch waggled his eyebrows again.

Xyr seemed deeply intrigued. “What sort of features?”

Enoch said “Statically charged forcefields”, at exactly the same moment that Emmet said “Knives.”

I don't know why this one gets me so hard, but I always burst out laughing at "knives" 🙈🤣

Thank you so much for your ask, this was a blast!

If anyone else would like to join the fun, here is the list of questions 😁

[exosmutfactory]

Six Phases 006 Pt 2

Originally posted by exo-stentialism

Who knew it nearly took 6 months to win your heart, and 6 phases for Baekhyun to lose his mind.

A/N: sorry not sorry 😇🚗💨🔥

[ contains: romance, fluff, angst, & smut ]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3  P(1) P(2) | Part 4 P(1) P(2) | Part 5 P(1)  P(2) | Part 6 P(1)  P(2)✓ ----- P(3)   P(4) 

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

Somehow, waking up early on Saturday mornings had become a routine since that weekend. Between the plague-like thoughts that disrupted my sleep and how Baekhyun cutely requested for breakfast the next morning, I dragged my tired body out of bed and quickly whipped up some bacon with scrambled eggs. He insisted that my cooking was the best before the flavor even settled fully onto his tongue, counteracting my every protest with flustering compliments. I recall accidentally telling him he was full of shit—it was only a simple meal, after all. What is that compared to the hundreds of fancy restaurants he has dined in?

"Your food tastes like home," He argued between pacifying whines, back-hugging me in a way that always weakens my defenses. I begrudgingly agreed after convincing him to have turkey bacon from time to time. Pork has its place, and I preferably don't enjoy the breakfast variety all too often.

It's ridiculous what lengths I would go for this infuriatingly attractive man. If my weekend to-do list full of breakfast, groceries, and laundry is anything to go by, I wouldn't oppose being considered as "whipped" for him. It is what it is, man.

Every Saturday I am up and running by the time the sunlight breaks over the horizon. Regardless of how late I end up sleeping the night before, my eyes automatically open between the hours of 6 and 7; ready to climb out of bed as quietly as possible. Thankfully Baekhyun is a heavy sleeper who is content with hugging my pillow to his chest while I sneak off to the kitchen.

The aches in my body become very apparent the moment my foot touches the carpeted floor of our bedroom, a familiar feeling—welcomed almost, though I'd never tell Baekhyun that. His ego when it comes to things like this is big enough as it is.

Suppressing a shiver at the wintry morning air, I reach for his discarded shirt from the night before, tsking quietly at the two buttons missing from the top of the material. I swear he's the most annoyingly endearing man I've ever met. There's no other explanation for why I'm already planning what time to sew the buttons back on, carefully picking them up from the floor and leaving them on top of our shared dresser.

Luckily the remaining buttons are enough to shield my shoulders from the cold of the large apartment; the bottom of the shirt brushing against the back of my thighs as I make my way out into the hallway, gently closing the door behind me. In times like these I am grateful for Baekhyun's habit of leaving his house-slippers right outside of our bedroom. I rarely use mine despite his constant chastising. Some things in life are better bare.

Slipping into the slippers with ease, a smile tugs at my lips while shuffling quietly down the hallway. I usually keep breakfast simple: scrambled eggs, a few strips of bacon—maybe a pancake or two on a particularly good morning. Today, however, I'm in the mood for something more. Omelets, cinnamon buns, and the little sausages Baekhyun has adored lately.

Checking on the buns in the small conventional oven on the counter, I whisk away at the raw eggs that will make up Baekhyun's omelet, smoothing out the yolk entirely. A light breeze and soft kiss pressed to my shoulder break me out of my concentration. I could recognize those pouty lips anywhere.

"You're up early," I murmur, leaning back against his chest. Tilting my head up, I smile at his cute sleepy expression.

"Mmm," He manages to capture my lips in an upside-down kiss that melts me to my very core, his warm fingers seeping through the fabric of my borrowed shirt. "What are you up to?"

"Breakfast," I breathe, cheeks warming as he pulls away, quickly checking on the sizzling frying pan in front of me before he can catch me admiring his bare torso. "I got the sausages you like, Bae."

"Bae?"

The top of my head nearly slams into the bottom of the cabinets as I freeze in my tracks, frying pan clutched in hand. Shit, did I say that out loud? My face might as well be 50 shades of red. "I—I mean-"

Baekhyun plants a kiss on my head that throws my every thought out the window. "I love you." He hums, hugging me warmly before walking to the dining table. The view of his bare back as he runs a hand through his sleep-tousled hair is way too captivating for six-thirty in the damn morning.

I put my attention back on the pan, hurriedly removing it from the burner to slide the sausages onto a tray. 30 more seconds and I would have burned the damn things had I not shaken myself back into focus. "Jenny and the gang are coming over today."

"Today?"

I raise a brow at his tone. The high-pitched inquiry of his voice at the mention of his friends is a little suspect. Who was the genius that bragged so much about my BBQ short ribs everyone ended up inviting themselves over to our apartment? Shouldn't he remember our plans for tonight?

"Yes?" I drag out, tilting my head, looking at him skeptically with a hand on my hip, raising my spatula. "Did you forget?"

His silent form sitting rigidly at the table is enough of an answer. "N-" I raise my other brow. "Erm—M-Maybe?"

"Uh-huh." If he wasn't so adorable after just waking up with his lips tutted in a confused pout, I would give him hell. "I bought groceries yesterday, so we're only missing the wine-"

"I'm on it." Baekhyun perks up in his chair as if douched in cold water, pulling his phone out of nowhere. "Hyerin," He murmurs groggily, fumbling clumsily for a couple of seconds and slapping it to his ear in his hurry. "I need a bottle of Dom Perignon by 6:30. Thank you." The call is over in the span of 10 seconds. He sets the device next to his glass of orange juice on the table, busying himself with gulping down half of its contents. It takes a while for him to notice my bewildered gaze. "What?" He mumbles; orange pulp on his pouty lips.

I narrow my eyes, lowering the grease-covered frying pan back to the stove. "Who was that?" And how the fuck you just ordering Dom Perignon as if it doesn't cost my entire education expenses? If you just bought the $50k edition, I swear, Byun Baekhyun—"My new secretary." He yawns, stretching his arms above his head with a soft, content smile. "Come here." He mumbles, opening them towards me, his sleepy brown orbs fluttering sluggishly. "I miss you."

For a moment I just stare at him. "I'm right here..." I mutter softly, growing more aware of his current state by the minute. Those dark circles are committing the worst crime by being on his precious face. Carefully sliding his omelet onto a plate followed by a few pieces of sausage, I can't help laughing a little to myself at the comparison of our meals. His omelet managed to come out better than the one I made for me, perfectly solid compared to my result of scrambled eggs. No matter what, he gets the very best from me—I'm taking the biggest cinnamon bun though. That delicious treat has my name written all over it, it's mine for the taking. Besides, I can risk a sugar-crash unlike Mr. 12 hour shifts over there. Noting his drowsy form nodding off at the table, I quickly reach over to start the coffeemaker.

The smile that lights up his face as I present his food to him makes up for the few seconds I burnt my hand earlier, trying my best not to burn our whole apartment down. Note to self: never daydream about eventful Friday nights while leaning over a hot stove. Had I been slower to react, I'd be nursing my hand back to health with a frazzled boyfriend refusing to let me so much as brush my teeth on my own—it gets overwhelming after the first day, trust me.

Settling down on his lap under the persuasive encouragements falling from his irresistible lips, I hold up a piece of sausage to shush his drowsy mumblings. As cute as he is, he needs his morning protein before he can wake up and function properly. Especially after working 60 hours two weeks in a row. I respect his enthusiasm as a semi-workaholic myself, but damn am I worried. What kind of crazily time-consuming clothing line is going on in his beautiful head this time?

Baekhyun finishes his juice while I pick at my food, lazily twirling his hair between my fingers. Some days I ask myself why I’m still here, why I still try, why I continue on in this relationship that has more blurred lines than direct answers about our future. To tell the truth... I never expected to fall in love again. I never saw this coming—never saw him coming, when my sole way of survival has been spotting things from miles away. How did it come to this? How the hell did this man sneak past all my defenses so easily?

Maybe it was the smile he shot my way the first time we met or the way we had danced that Friday night, his body seeming to match so perfectly with mine. His comforting presence and sweet, brown eyes that hold all the stars in the universe. The countless late nights he has spent looking after me when I caught the flu from a combination of lack of sleep, stress, and poor life choices. He's always been there—always been here with me, but why… Why isn’t it enough? What is missing? How can I strip this weight off my chest that suffocates me more by the day?

"Baby?" Baekhyun's warm voice caresses my ear, comforting arms tightening around me.

"What if it happens again?" Jenny's worried face flashes vividly in my mind.

The memories come pouring in, making my mouth go dry as a lump forms in my throat. It takes everything in me to drag my eyes up to meet Baekhyun's inquiring orbs, plastering on another smile. The gesture is easier to manage with every sweet kiss his soft pillows plant on my lips. His heart-fluttering touch distracts my hyperactive mind for a while.

"Damn, Riley." Chanyeol practically moans, the sampling spoon I had offered him left to dangle pre-cautiously between his fingers. "Had I known you could cook like this, I would have come soon—ah!"

"Yah," Baekhyun scowls as I take the last serving plate from the counter to the table with a bashful smile, passing the tall man clutching the back of his head. "That's my girlfriend you're talking about." He mutters, lowering his hand, voice deepening in an unfairly attractive manner. "Watch your mouth."

"Geez." The giant huffs, glaring at him under the veil of his blonde hair. "You'd think you two were married with that—okay, okay!"

"When you two are done." The over-the-top chirp of my voice catches their attention; both their eyes widening like guilty little kids caught with their hands in a cookie jar. "Dinner is ready."

"Don't let me eat it all." Jongdae drawls, throwing an arm over the back of Jenny's chair, looking at them lazily, his brown eyes glinting mischievously. "Remember what happened last time."

Baekhyun and Chanyeol scramble for their seats as if their asses have been set on fire; an unusually quiet Jongin follows behind them, carrying a plate I forgot all about.

"Thank you." I gasp, quickly making room for the forgotten dish. "Set it down here, please."

Jongin nods, setting down the plate of cucumber salad next to the servings of Bulgogi. "I'm sorry Kyungsoo couldn't make it." He mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. "Something came up at the restaurant."

"It's alright. Wanna pack a to-go plate for him?" Tilting my head, I smile in understanding at the sheepish expression on his face. "If you think he'd like my food, anyway," I joke, resting my arm on the back of my chair as I continue to face him, relieved at the familiar hint of playfulness restored in his eyes.

"Oh he's going to love it," Chanyeol insists with a pleased hum, yelping at the smack Jenny lands on his sneaky hand.

"Where are your manners, Park?" She sighs, shaking her head, fiery red curls bouncing with the motion.

"Save some for the rest of us, asshole." Jongdae grumbles, subtly eyeing the cucumber salad.

Everyone's plate already has a soft taco shell, warm from a few seconds in the microwave. The toppings are placed on top of the two tables Baekhyun and I had to push together to accommodate our guests: fresh Korean lettuce, sour cream, and other ingredients that Jenny helped me choose—especially that bowl of melted nacho-cheese Jongin keeps taking glances at.

We all look towards Baekhyun once he settles in his seat. He leans forward to reach the middle of the table, bypassing the regular bulgogi for the one drenched in a home-made sauce, spooning some on my taco shell with a chaste kiss to my cheek. "Eat up, everyone," He murmurs sweetly, tired brown eyes twinkling.

Jongdae doesn't even fake-gag with Chanyeol and Jongin, he goes straight for the cucumber salad. The fresh smell wafts in the air amongst the various meat and spices, making Baekhyun's nose crinkle adorably. I carefully brush his freshly dyed hair out of his eyes, chuckling at the pout he shoots my way. "Did you really have to make cucumber salad, baby? Cucumber?"

"One man's trash is another man's treasure, Byun," Jongdae mutters, forgoing his personal bowl to grab the whole serving. No one says a word, we just share knowing smiles. And once Chanyeol pops the cork of the expensive Dom Perignon, the real party begins.

Endless tales of embarrassing high school cafeteria incidents spill forth from Jongdae's mouth as if shame has gone out of style. The details he shares at the expense of Chanyeol's seemingly innocent public image flying out the window right along with it.

"One second this guy looked like he was taking the biggest shit of his life, and the next thing I know, Lee Naeun from 5th period Physics is crawling out from under the table, wiping spulge from her lips. Like, Chanyeol, what the actual fuck bro? Couldn't you have taken your business to the 3rd floor Janitor's closet? I think I still have the key..."

If it wasn't for Baekhyun's quick hands, I would've sprayed a mouthful of wine across the entire table.

Unfortunately, Jongin had to head out right after dinner, promising to meet up again soon before hurrying to Kyungsoo's house, two plates clutched in hand. Chanyeol decided to stick around for longer to "let his two glasses of wine wear off"—this man has the metabolism of a beast, we know why he's really here. His reason is comfortably seated next to Jenny on our striped couch, sock-clad feet propped up on the coffee table.

"Dinner was nice," Jenny smiles, sipping leisurely at her water.

"More than nice." Chanyeol boosts from our leather recliner, raising his glass, tipping his head at me. "Your food damn near tops Kyungsoo's," He pauses, brown eyes widening. "Don't tell him I said that."

"No worries," I laugh softly, hiding in the safety of Baekhyun's shoulder. He shifts towards me, finishing his wine and setting the empty glass on the coffee table before wrapping an arm around my waist, brushing his lips against my forehead in a way that leaves my heart shaking. The white loveseat we're sitting on sinks further under our joined weight, and really, there's no place I'd rather be—except our king sized bed, that is. Baekhyun's firm grip on my bare thigh isn't helping my tipsy trance in the slightest. The universe knows I'd rather be getting drunk off of him right now.

"I'm going for a smoke," Jongdae mutters, rising from the couch. He leans down to Jenny for a kiss that leaves her beaming, going to retrieve his trench coat and shoes before slipping out of the door.

Good to see them doing well; I blink in surprise, smiling teasingly her way. I'm happy for her! It really is a pleasant surprise to see Jongdae stating their relationship in such a way; an immense improvement from their past encounters of Jenny nervously seeking affection and Jongdae down-right dodging it like his life depends on it. Public displays of affection are a sweet, straightforward way to say, "hey, this person means a lot to me," or, "back off, they're mine." Which personally sets me on romantic fire. Even if it's just holding hands, it can put me in high spirits—doing it with a certain, cheeky silver-haired man is just a bonus.

Jenny winks, fanning her cheeks that match the rosy shade of her hair before tuning in to Chanyeol's loud chatter.

Soft laughter rumbles in Baekhyun's chest as he engages in the conversation. His warm palm securely holds my hand when I slip my cold palm into his warm one. He presses a kiss to the back of it, pulling a silent giggle from my lips as he smiles at me with an arched brow, squeezing our intertwined fingers.

"Riley?"

I drag my eyes up to Jenny who's loosening her red curls by running her fingers through them. "Yeah?"

"Jongdae's not answering his cell," She murmurs with a worried frown. "Can you go check on him, please?"

And why can't you do it? — Or come with me for that matter? I raise a brow, getting up from the chair and Baekhyun's warmth with a silent sigh. "Okay. I'll be back." If I get kidnapped or spooked by some random asshole, she'll never hear the end of it. I really should ask Baekhyun to teach me a thing or two about hakipdo though.

Jenny beams, a peculiar twinkle in her eye, clasping my hand between hers. "Thank you!"

Uh-huh... I try not to eye her too warily.

"Take my coat, baby," Baekhyun murmurs, kissing the side of my wrist. "It's cold out."

"O-Okay." I clear my throat, pointedly avoiding the smug smiles of the other two in the room while walking over to the coat hanger.

Slipping on his brown, cinnamon-scented coat brings a giddy smile to lips—one I'm quick to hide in the soft fabric.

I slide on my boots before making my way to the elevator, not up for taking the 4 levels of stairs this late at night. Thankfully, that nosy neighbor down the hall isn't meeting me at the elevator tonight on one of his various late-night escapades. I've had enough awkward encounters with his lovers to last me a lifetime.

The lobby is empty except for a lone security guard who waves my way, face lit up in familiarity. Smiling back, I step out the crystal-clean glass doors of the building into the quiet night, quickly finding the man I'm looking for standing at the edge of the sidewalk. "Jongdae."

"Huh?" He looks over his shoulder, turning halfway at the sight of me, pulling a joint from his lips.

"You alright?" I pull Baekhyun's coat tighter around me, resisting the urge to shiver in the icy wind. "Jenny was looking for you."

"Looking for-" He chuckles, brown hair ruffling as he throws his head back in laughter. "Girl, please. I was instructed to come down here 5 minutes ago." He continues, inhaling deeply from the stick between his fingertips. "She ain't looking for me, she's looking for a way for them to chat privately and to make us talk..." He sighs, looking over at me. "I'm not exactly the best company for deep shit."

"O-kay then," I mumble, more than a little peeved, ready to turn on my heel in any direction other than stay here.

"Let's talk." He shrugs, exhaling smoke into the frosty air. I shoot him a wary look, barely taking a step in his direction. "I said let's talk, not have a screaming match." He mutters, rolling his eyes into the back of his head. "Why you all the way over there?" He follows my gaze to the stick between his fingers. "What? This?" He scoffs, smirking. "It's a joint, worst thing you'll get is the munchies."

Crinkling my nose, I take a couple more steps closer anyway, standing beside him, keeping a respectful distance between us.

"Listen." He sighs, taking another drag. "I know I've done some things that… I didn't necessarily have to do." He glances at me for a moment, and then faces the street lights. "Bros before hoes, you know?"

Yeah, I inwardly roll my eyes, focusing on a lonely snowflake evaporating before it reaches the ground. There's a lot to be said over people doing things that they didn't necessarily have to do. If I had a dime for every sleepless night I've had because of Jongdae's shameless mouth, I wouldn't be paying off my student loans anymore.

"Look." Jongdae takes one last drag, crushing the joint under his worn-out winter boots. "The way he is now is much better than the Baekhyun we knew back then." He nods a little to himself, meeting my gaze. "Still can't see why he decided to change his ways for you...but oh well." He mutters, lips quirking into a playful smirk at my small smile before facing the city lights again. Festival lamp-shaped snowflakes attached to the top of every streetlight beam against the dim backdrop of empty downtown buildings, prepared for the coming holidays. "You're alright for a best friend stealer."

A laugh escapes before I can slap my hands over my mouth, meeting his eye nervously only for us to both end up laughing; our amusement echoing loudly through the quiet night.

"Riley?" Jenny's confused voice peeps up, red curls rebelling against the hood of her fluffy white coat.

"Over here!" I cup my hand around my mouth, waving to get her attention.

She turns towards us, rounding the corner with quick strides. "There you are! I thought you got grabbed or something." She fusses, resting a hand on my arm, leaning closer to whisper in my ear, "Especially you. Baekhyun was two seconds from hunting you down with my head on his mantle."

"Jenny!" I snort, accepting her tight hug, my voice muffled in her puffy coat. "It kinda would be your fault though."

"I know!" She exclaims, viewing me from an arm's length away. "I was sweating out my hair."

"Baby?" That unmistakable honey voice calls. A head of fluffy silver locks and brown eyes peek around the building, catching light in the streetlights.

"Here, B," I soothe, chuckling as he speeds over to us, gathering me in his arms without hesitation.

"I thought I lost you," He mutters, hiding in my hair.

"She was gone for ten minutes," Jongdae deadpans.

"Ten minutes too long!" He pulls back to glare over at the brunet, hugging me to his chest with cheeks too rosy to be merely from a few moments out in the cold.

"Just how much of that wine did you drink?.." I narrow my eyes, cupping his flushed cheeks.

"Good thing you only bought one bottle," Jenny laughs nervously, slowly gravitating to shelter behind Jongdae's taller form.

"Enough to miss you." Baekhyun's breath leaves goosebumps on my chilled skin, his soft lips brushing my ear.

"Al-right, time to go before the lovebirds start mating." Jongdae grumbles, wrapping an arm around Jenny's beaming form. Their matching smirks have me scurrying to direct my tipsy boyfriend back towards our apartment.

"Uh—okay! See you guys next time!" I laugh to mask my burning face, gently pushing Baekhyun into the building.

"Goodnight! Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Jenny sing-songs, the smugness clear in her tone.

"Can't make any promises!" Baekhyun proclaims over his shoulder, much to my embarrassment. Thankfully he quiets down once we reach the elevator, but based on the wide eyed security guard, the damage has already been done.

Can the frozen ground just please open up and swallow me whole?

The view of this busy street differs from all the other times I've walked down it with Baekhyun by my side. Maybe because it's been almost 2 years since I've moved to this city, or that new boutique being set up at the end of the road. Whatever the case, the air is different—crisper, cleaner. Refreshing as I briskly walk to my destination, wanting to avoid being out in the cold as much as possible. The weather here is so much colder in the middle of December compared to how flowers were still budding around this time outside of my childhood home.

Humming a song that's been stuck in my head for days with my car keys spinning around my finger, I stroll into Privé Alliance's building, admiring the latest clothing line pictures hung up along the walls and waving to the new receptionist while making my way to the elevator. Many men and women in business attire are all over the place as per usual during the busiest months of the year. However, once I make it out of the crowd of chattering employees, the sight of a familiar face waiting in front of the elevator brings a smile to my face. "Kyungsoo!"

The short-haired man turns around. "Hello, Riley." He nods with a small smile as we step inside the open doors, pressing the buttons to the 5th and top floor. "Lunch date?"

"Hmm?.." Blinking a few times, I follow his gaze to the picnic basket clutched in my hand. "Oh! Yes." I chuckle, smoothing down my hair. "Sorry." Between nearly slipping on a patch of ice on the way over here and the pretty lights decorated all over the city, I've forgotten the reason I left our fridge in a disarray this morning. Who decided to store the sandwich meats at the back of the refrigerator? I know Baekhyun loves my home cooking, but damn, man, let me have a break too.

"It's alright." Kyungsoo chuckles, arching a brow. "Hopefully you can get him to relax."

"Relax? Coming from you!?" I gasp sarcastically, covering my mouth with wide eyes.

"Only because he's seconds away from firing half the 3rd floor." He mutters with a roll of his eyes, yet an apologetic smile forms on his face. "Sorry I couldn't make it to the gathering." He clears his throat while facing forward again, straightening his suit.

"It's alright," I smile, resisting the urge to chuckle at his flustered state, checking my outfit in the elevator's reflection. It may be a chilling 40 degrees—4 in celsius—but I can spare the warmth of my legs for a 2 minute walk from Privé's parking lot. No weather can tell me what I can and can't wear. If I want to rock a pencil skirt on the coldest day of the week, so be it! Plus, these two-inch heels couldn't be left behind. I can't show up at Baekhyun's workplace with the poor fashion choices I subject him to at home, so we're going, coolness over comfort.

"Life happens," I mumble, tucking rebellious locks of hair behind my ear. "I'm just glad you're doing okay." The smile that forms on his heart-shaped lips when I take a glance at him makes me beam back.

"I'll stop by sometime this week." He hums, black dress shoes tapping on the floor. "I just finished a new recipe."

"Recipe?" I blink, mildly intrigued, mentally running over the list of food I'm carrying for the 3rd time today.

"Fried ice cream cake," He smirks, nonchalantly checking his watch.

"Fried-" My jaw damn near drops to the floor. Fried? Fried!? The one ice cream Baekhyun banned me from attempting myself after burning my hand while frying fish a few days ago?! Which Baekhyun is half to blame, by the way—never sneak up on someone over a popping frying pan. It never ends well. Besides that, it also was the day I truly realized the stamina that man possesses. I have never seen someone react so quickly to shove my hand under ice-cold water in my life.

Searching for any cameras in the elevator, I step a little closer to the short-haired man, whispering discreetly behind my hand, "W-Will you bring me some?"

"The prettiest one," He promises, softly patting my shoulder, chuckling at the star-struck expression written all over my face. "This is me, I'm afraid."

"Huh?" I blink into focus, shocked to be on the 5th floor so soon. What the heck. What is it about elevator rides with Baekhyun and Kyungsoo that make them go by lightning-fast compared to the stifling, tension-filled ones with Jongdae? If you can read a room, it truly makes a difference. "Oh, don't let me keep you." I give a little wave, balancing the picnic basket on my forearm. "See you later!"

Kyungsoo nods, smiling with a wave of his own as the double doors close. It is at that moment that I freeze, recalling how Baekhyun mentioned he hired a new secretary a few weeks back. Well... shit—how do I explain why I'm arriving at his floor unannounced on a random Tuesday afternoon?

Do his employees even know we are dating?.. A small part of me doubts it. Why do I care? Oh, right—I fucking live with him!

By some miracle, no one is occupying the neatly arranged desk when the elevator opens on the top floor, saving me from the completely rushed explanation I have no idea how to even put into words. All that lies before me is an undisturbed walk to Baekhyun's office, the intimidating black door slightly ajar. I slip off my heels, rushing out of the elevator on sock-clad feet before the doors close. Baekhyun's businessman voice filters through the quiet air. He must be on the phone.

Shuffling as quietly as possible down the hallway, I peek into his office. My eyes quickly find his broad form leaning a hip against his executive desk, a phone pressed to his ear as he faces the floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the heart of Seoul. Impeccably dressed in a wrinkle-free, white dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up. His black blazer thrown over the back of his chair. Like always, the splashes of color in every corner of the room have my lips curling up, but I have to muffle a small giggle at the sight of a thin pink measuring tape hanging around his neck.

I slowly inch closer, discarding my coat and setting down the basket in one of the leather chairs. Smoothing my flower-patterned, white button-down shirt, I silently approach him, gently covering his eyes once he ends the call. "Guess who~"

Baekhyun stiffens for a moment before swiftly turning around, wrapping his arms around me and lifting me up, setting me down on his desk. He cups my cheeks in his warm palms, crashing his lips to mine before I can make a sound. "Thank god, it's you." He breathes, warm fingers sliding into my hair.

"W-Well—hello to you too." I barely manage to get out between his feverous kisses, making a noise in surprise when he pulls me flush to his chest. "What is it?" I ask softly, noticing the bothered look on his face; carefully running my fingers through his styled hair as he hides in my neck. "Another long day?"

"You have no idea." He sighs, looking up at me. "I was 2 seconds away from losing it."

"Don't-" I pause, thinking about it. A few memories of last week flash through my mind. "Well, you are kind of hot when you're angry..." In the proper context.

Baekhyun perks up, exhausted brown eyes regaining their sparkle. "Really?"

I hum to appease his hopeful expression, yelping when he pulls me into his arms, not expecting to be carried up from the desk so suddenly.

"Come here," He murmurs, walking around to sit in his chair, setting me on his lap. "I need strength to get through these reports."

Gently playing with his hair to calm down my racing heart, I tilt my head, "Do you have time for a lunch break?"

Baekhyun hums distractedly, kissing my forehead, holding me closer to his firm chest. "We can order in a little later."

Kyungsoo's words come back to mind while I watch Baekhyun continue to click around his computer, brown eyes squinted and brows furrowing more by the minute. I inwardly cringe at the move I'm about to pull, but… Our sandwiches' lifespan is ticking away. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

"But…" I pout, resting my hands flat on his chest, widening my eyes for effect as his focused orbs shift to meet mine. "But I made it."

"Let's eat now then," Baekhyun smiles, his steady gaze flickering all over my person. I swear I just witnessed his pupils dilating right before my very eyes. "Give me 5 minutes."

My lips quirk up, "One-"

"I'll set a timer." He laughs, shaking his head, reaching for his phone between his bright screen laptop and desktop PC.

Smiling in victory, I stretch across the desk to retrieve the basket, peeking at his computer accidentally. "Holy shit, is that Melody Hudson?" I straighten up, focusing on the magazine cover opened up on a famous website. "The model?" My eyes widen in awe of her tall blonde form modeling a stunning royal blue summer dress; the color bringing out the blue in her shining eyes. I place the basket on a clear spot on Baekhyun's crowded desk before rubbing his stiff shoulders. He must still be tense from work. "She's so pretty."

Baekhyun hums, placing a hand on my cheek. His gentle caress coaxes my eyes back to his. "But you're beautiful," He whispers, resting his forehead on mine, brushing a thumb over my lips.

There's nowhere to hide the red hue that springs onto my face, making him chuckle as I quickly turn back to start taking out our food.

"Would you like to accompany me to a photoshoot?" The tentative tone of his voice has me raising a brow.

"Sure!" Handing him his sandwich, I press a kiss to his cheek, carefully unwrapping my homemade fries. "I'd love to see you work behind the scenes."

"Actually..."

I look at him, mid-bite of my toasted turkey sandwich.

"I'll be in the scenes," He drops, soft lips quirking a boyish grin.

My grip on my sandwich rips a hole in the middle while preventing it from falling out of my hands. "I…"—Behind the scenes witnessing Baekhyun modeling?? With his god-tier body and knee-weakening smirks that have me crumbling from beyond a screen alone? Hell to the mother fucking yes! "O-Okay."

Baekhyun's brown orbs twinkle knowingly, an amused smile forming on his lips as he presses them to mine. "Great."

It's impossible to mask my excitement while slipping into the passenger seat of Baekhyun's Audi. The beautiful red highlights around the black interior never fail to leave my jaw dropped in awe, fingertips tempted to graze over every surface. I'd like to think a person's dream car matches their owner, and there's no denying how devilishly divine my boyfriend looks settling into the driver's seat.

Baekhyun's simple, black button-down shirt and matching jeans have me inwardly salivating—I don't even have the slightest clue of why he's going to a photoshoot today. Privé? A cover for a magazine? Possibilities are endless, but not just anyone can request an hour of his time during one of the busiest months of the year.

"Are you ready?" Baekhyun glances over at me, his unstyled hair tucked under a Privé corduroy camel baseball cap that I haven't quite seen before.

"Yes," I beam at him, tilting my head curiously. "Is that hat new? I don't think I've seen it before."

Baekhyun smirks, brown eyes glinting mischievously as he straps on his seatbelt. "Maybe." He rests a hand on the steering wheel and the other on my thigh, backing out of his designated parking space. "Hold on tight, baby. You're in for a long ride."

I blink, having no clue what kind of ride he means. When it comes to Baekhyun, you never know what you're getting yourself into, but you never really have to worry about it either. If I hadn't known him for a few years, I would have bugged him to tell me where we're going for the entire ride. But with a few years under our belt—and some long months spent sharing a close-knitted home—I can comfortably sit back and relax for the whole journey, because there is no Baekhyun without one.

•••

The parking lot outside of the building is relatively calm, with only a few staff members bringing in materials from their cars. Inside of the place, however, is a complete madhouse. Everyone is speed-walking to various rooms and popping up from behind every corner. Not a drop of silence in the heavily populated area.

"There's our man of the hour!" A tall, aged man steps forward to shake Baekhyun's hand, carefully cradling a camera strapped around his neck. "So glad you could make it. I hope we are not taking up too much of your time?" He inquires, pushing glasses further up his nose, glancing over at me.

"Oh no, of course not!" Baekhyun shakes his head, shifting closer to wrap an arm around my waist. "I invited my girlfriend to accompany me today." He clears his throat, reddening cheeks caught under the harsh spotlights. "I hope you don't mind."

"No, not at all," The man reassures, gesturing towards a staff member who quickly brings over a grey single-seat sofa. "The more the merrier. Here you go, Madam. Is the chair to your liking?"

"Yes, thank you," I smile, trying not to stutter, brushing my fingertips over Baekhyun's warm palm before taking a seat. He shoots me a little bashful grin as the photographer whisks him away, a team of stylists directing him to a chair on the opposite side of the room. It's amusing to see so many people fussing over his hair, pulling out hairspray, and presenting him with simple yet sexy articles of clothing.

A few other models are walking around in the same attire, giving off a cool vibe of the newest clothing line, but when Baekhyun steps out of a dressing room…

Holy shit.

No, seriously holy shit!

Baekhyun walks into the room, standing against a wall as stylists comb his hair over to the left side of his face, using sprites of hairspray to tuck the right side behind his ear. As if he doesn't look dangerous enough adorning a leather jacket, a black shirt with white scribbles I can barely make out from this distance, and camel pants with unique, black low-platinum shoes.

The staff directs him over to the area with a gray backdrop, lights and cameras focused all over the place. Baekhyun practically glides over there, oozing with that stunning Ceo confidence. At a closer look, I can make out the pretty image of open and outstretched hands in the white lines at the bottom of his shirt. The intriguing detail has my full attention until I feel a persistent stare.

I lift my eyes higher to meet Baekhyun's dark brown orbs—from me sitting in the back of the room or getting into character; I have no idea. Suddenly my red knitted sweater is a bit too warm despite not being in front of any bright lights. Just when I think it can't get any worse, the photographer announces that it's time to begin.

If I had known what I agreed to the other day, I would have been more prepared—or so I'd like to think. I mean, how does one prepare their feelings for watching their unfairly attractive, multi-millionaire boyfriend pose for the camera as if moments away from sweeping them off of their feet!? And not in a sweet way either. Nah, ain't nothing innocent about the lethal expression swirling within his dark brown orbs. Especially while they are pointed right at me.

The hairstyle they gave him just makes my situation worse. How am I supposed to sit still with this man gazing so intensely into the "camera"? Is this really the same drowsy Baekhyun who I have to wake up every Sunday morning? Where did his tiredness go? There ain't nothing exhausted about the way he is staring at me! And when they bring out a chair for him to sit on… No. Hell no. That's it.

Draping my sweater over the back of my chair has his covered lips curling up at the corners, I just fucking know it.

After a few more camera flashes, the stylists are back with a new outfit in tow, gesturing for Baekhyun to change. However, right as he is turning down the short hallway leading to the dressing room, someone comes rushing into the building.

"I'm so sorry I'm late!" A petite woman with a French accent flies into the hall. "Traffic was-" She skids to a halt, staring at Baekhyun as if she's seen a ghost, her brown wavy hair mid-loop of making a bun. For a long moment, nobody says a word, and then she's on the move, crossing the short distance within two furious strides.

Her slap echoes across the tall walls.

"To think I waited for you." She grits out between heated spews of French. Her gray eyes brimmed with tears shoot daggers into Baekhyun's wide-eyed ones. "To think I held onto the fact that maybe you actually cared." Her whole body shakes as staff members rush over to restrain her, calling her name over her loud obscenities in an attempt to calm her down, trying to pull her away from him before she can jump him. It takes three men to drag her back out of the building. A woman from the small crowd quickly follows, dropping a blue clipboard in her haste. We hear her panicked voice a split second before the door slams shut behind them.

I don't know when or how it happens, but I'm already on the other side of the room, reaching out for a stunned Baekhyun being fussed over by stylists. "Baekhyun?" My eyes flicker all over his shock-stricken face once they move out of the way for me. A lump forms in my throat at the look in his eyes. "B," I tentatively place my hand over his frozen one on his cheek, the red handprint visible between his fingers. "Baekhyun!"

He flinches, shaky pupils focusing on me. "Y-Yes?"

"Are you okay?" Emotions grip at my throat, making it hard to speak while my eyes keep shifting between his alarmed ones and his steadily bruising cheek. I take the ice pack a staff member hands over without a word, gently brushing his hand away to hold it to his face. "Come here."

Baekhyun silently follows me to the dressing room, seemingly in a daze as stylists vacate the room, closing the door on their way out. I lead him over to a swivel chair in front of a white vanity table, letting him settle before speaking. "What was that?"

"What was what?" He mumbles, breaking my heart at the sight of him pressing ice to his swelling cheek.

"You know what I'm talking about." Crossing my arms, I continue staring him down. "Who was that woman, Baekhyun? Why did she hit you?"

"I'll tell you later, baby." He avoids my eye and his reflection in the mirror, getting up from the chair. "Let's wrap this photoshoot up, hmm? Then we'll go home-"

Stumbling to reach the door before he does, I block his escape, looking into his conflicted eyes. "I'm not letting you leave this room until you answer me."

His lips twitch, "Baby-"

I cross my arms despite my racing heart, my stomach twisting in an ignored warning. "I need answers-"

"For fuck's sake, Riley!" He thunders, startling me so much I slam the back of my head on the doorframe. "Out of my fucking way."

I step aside without another word, turning my head away as he storms out of the room. The slamming door left in his wake has my heart jumping into my throat. Anxiety grips at my chest like a vice, making it hard to breathe. I latch onto a Privé clothing rack, holding onto it for stability.

Baekhyun's tone on the other side of the door is much calmer while talking to one of the staff. I wait for a few minutes, resting against the clothing rack until his voice drifts away; the loud taps of his shoes fading into the distance. No matter how far away he is—most likely continuing on with the photoshoot by the faint clicks of a camera echoing around the quiet building—I don't… I can't; I won't go back out there to watch him. No, not after that. I'm sure everyone in the vicinity heard what just happened.

Slipping out of the room, I gasp when I bump into someone else, my heart beating so hard it hurts to breathe. Could this day get any worse? Seriously? "I'm so sorry."

"You're fine," The same staff member I heard minutes ago with Baekhyun shakes her head, smiling in sympathy. "Tough morning, huh?"

I can only manage a deep exhale, nodding, "I guess you could say that, u-um—" I'm losing the battle against the sting steadily building behind my eyes. "Do you know where the bathroom is by any chance?"

"Just around the corner," She nods, pointing farther down the hallway. "First door on your left."

"Thank you," I breathe, hurrying down the hall. Before I can pass by her, however, I notice her angrily marking out a name with a black sharpie from the same blue clipboard that clattered to the floor earlier.

Nicole. The woman they dragged out earlier…

With tears finally breaking free from my sore eyes, I couldn't have reached the bathroom fast enough.

To my relief, the room is empty. Nothing but painfully bright lights and the porcelain floors to witness my current state. I walk up to the sinks with a shaky sigh, splattering cold water on my face. My reflection isn't a pretty sight to behold when I look into the mirror, bracing my hands on the countertop as I take in the streaks of mascara running down my face. The one day I decide to wear a non-fool-proof kind and this is what I get?

Sighing, I turn to lean my back against the counter, crossing my arms. The photoshoot is back in full swing with all the compliments the photographer is showering Baekhyun in. It's pretty pathetic of me to hide out in this ice-cold bathroom, but I rather shiver for a few minutes than face him right now. Something about the way he reacted earlier... To that woman, to me—doesn't feel right. Maybe I pushed him too far? I just… Do I not have the right to know who just slapped the hell out of my boyfriend? Hell yeah, I'll admit I want to know who she is because he's mine and she was acting as if she was waiting forever for him to recuperate her feelings, but it's not just about that. No—Nah. The deer in headlights expression on his face as her hand collided with his cheek will not leave my mind.

Whatever it is, whatever just transpired in front of me; something is off and I rather be out the line of fire while trying to figure it out.

"To think I waited for you" For what? For when? With the way things are going, I might never know the answer.

The lack of chatter filtering through the echoing walls of the room catches my attention. I tentatively peek out of the bathroom, stepping back into the hallway at the uncharacteristically quiet state of the building. Is the shoot over already? Pushing past my dimly lit surroundings, I head back to the dressing room, hesitantly standing in the open doorway. I'm confused to not find Baekhyun there, or in the main area when I poke my head over the edge of the short hallway.

"Excuse me?" I approach the nearest stylist, moving out the way of another one clumsily carrying out articles of clothing. "Have you seen Baekhyun?"

She shakes her head with a pop of her minty gum, giving me a solemn look. "Last I saw of him, he was on his way to the men's room on the other side of the building."

"Ah..." Dread fills my stomach, and something tells me that I rather not find out why. "Thank you," I murmur in passing, quickly making my way back out of the room, speeding down to the opposite hallway. The possibility that I got left behind in an unfamiliar part of the city twists my stomach into knots until I round the corner. I stumble to a halt, sucking in a breath. My heart breaks at the sight—and then the rage kicks in.

Baekhyun's broad form in his partially unbuttoned black shirt braces himself against the wall, looming over a model. Her hand is in his hair and their lips interlocked in an intimate kiss. The sight has my blood boiling—nah, it's turning into fucking lava.

"Wow." I bark out a laugh, loud and hollow, positively seething as he jumps back from her as if burned. "If you were going to cheat, you could have at least had the decency to do it behind my back." The smirk that forms on my lips is the worst kind, the ugliest kind, the kind that has fear flickering in Baekhyun's wide brown eyes. "Or was this your intention all along?"

"R-Riley-" He stares like a deer in headlights, hurrying over to me, smearing her red lipstick over his lips in his haste to rub it off with the back of his hand. "Baby, please keep it down. I can explain-"

"Nah," I shake my head, looking at him in disdain. Just the sight of him right now has me heating up with anger. I'm seeing red as the model smirks at me from over his shoulder. That bitch. "This is explanation enough." I spin on my heel before I do something I won't regret in the slightest, just for his sake.

Baekhyun's dress shoes tapping frantically behind me as I storm back into the main hall.

"Riley, baby." His grip on my wrist throws me over the edge. "Please-"

"What were you doing, huh?" A snarl forms on my face as I whirl back around, meeting his pleading eyes. "Gonna show her your failed attempts at lasting for longer than a minute?"

Everyone in the room pauses. The photographer almost drops his prized camera.

Baekhyun's face grows progressively red, and if it wasn't for the rage burning in my own veins, I'd be concerned about the vibrant hue going up to his ears right now. Just like his mishap a few days ago that would normally be insignificant, it was his grave mistake. The key that I used to fuel the fire to the flame in the most torturous of ways... Have I hit a nerve, Hyunnie?

His grip tightens on my wrist. "We," He barely gets out in an angered growl of his own, "Are leav-"

"Get your filthy-" I hiss, snatching my wrist out of his grasp, "Paws off of me." I grab my sweater on my way out, exiting the building without looking back. The bite of the cold wintry air is a relief for my heated skin. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"I drove." He says through clenched teeth, hot on my heels.

"And I'm walking." I bite back, walking past the car as he climbs into the driver's seat.

"Riley!" Baekhyun bellows, putting the Audi in gear and slowly following me out of the parking lot. "Get in the fucking car!"

I cross my arms, scoffing out a laugh. It doesn't matter where the hell I am, I'm not getting back in that car with him. Bringing me all the way out here just to pull that shit. He can kiss my ass. I knew I shouldn't have gotten in that car with him. If I had taken my own four-seat beauty that I left back at home, I'd be halfway on the way to Jenny's by now.

Baekhyun continues to follow behind me, honking obnoxiously, attracting unwanted attention from bystanders that whisper amongst themselves. Some of them pull out their phones. What a spectacle we would make for the front cover of magazines, endlessly entertainment for all their peering eyes. Pausing for a moment to weigh my options, I step towards the Audi with a sigh, climbing in without a word to the fuming man next to me.

Baekhyun drives on, clutching onto the steering wheel with both hands. His grip is so tight his knuckles turn white. I direct my gaze out of the passenger window, avoiding him at all costs within the confines of the car. The long ride home and walk up to our apartment does nothing to ease my rage. Anger continues to thump angrily in my veins as the past two hours replay in my mind.

Baekhyun unlocks the door and holds it open for me. I walk into the apartment with a scoff, moving to tug off my boots only for my back to meet the wall, the front door closing with a startling slam.

"What was that?" Baekhyun glares at me, fire burning bright in his brown orbs. He can't exactly tower over me, but by his mannerism, he doesn't need any extra height to get his point across.

"What was that?" I mumble, peeling off my shoes, ducking under his arm to cross the other side of the room. The longer I stay in these warm clothes, the more I die from the uncomfortable heat.

"No, what the actual fuck, Riley?" He shakes his head, long strands of silver hair dangling in his fury-filled eyes. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Fine." I retort, rolling my eyes and looking at him, "Who was that woman then?"

His nostrils flare. "Really?" He bites out, laughing in disbelief. "Is that really important right now?"

I cross the room in three strides, tilting my chin up to stand nose to nose with him. "It is to me if you haven't fucking noticed."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." He scoffs, stepping back. A cruel smile curls on his lips. "What should I do? I haven't paid Riley enough attention." All traces of humor leave his features, his minty breath washing over my cheeks. Baekhyun leans in again, his voice lowering into an angered growl. "Maybe if you weren't wetting yourself over me all morning, you'd figure it out."

I grind my teeth. "Who. Was. She?"

"For fuck-" Baekhyun reels back, his brown eyes rolling so hard into the back of his head a flicker of worry sparks in my chest before those dark orbs land on me again. "An ex-fling," he grits out. "Why does it matter?"

My hands fall limply to my sides. "Why didn't you tell me she would be there?" I ask. My voice is much quieter while I search his eyes for answers.

"What?" He scoffs, raising a brow. "How was I supposed to know she would be there?"

"Her name was on the roster-"

"I-" He shakes his head, pulling harshly on his hair. "What? Do you expect me to know the names of the women I've slept with?" A smirk quirks at his pink lips, his brown eyes so dark that his pupils have vanished in their mahogany depths. "Do you think I've kept some journal? " He purrs, grinning in delight when I shuffle uncomfortably on my feet. "Are you really that insecure?"

I stiffen. A bolt of something sinister shoots down my spine. Did this fucker just—

"Me?" I point to myself with wide eyes, laughing incredulously. "Me?.... You know, that's real fucking rich coming from you." I sneer, roughly tugging off my annoying turtleneck. What was once a reliable piece of clothing ends up torn in my fit of rage. I fling it out of my sight. Baekhyun's words loop over and over in my head. Even though I don't show it—they cut me. Deep. On a touchy subject. In a part of me I thought had died 2 years ago. He damn well knows it hurts when it's mentioned in such a menacing manner, and he still did it. For what? His weak stamina in wake of his long hours at work is suddenly the equivalent to the root of my trust issues?

My fingers curl so tightly into a fist, I can feel my nails pierce the skin. "You're one to talk." It's easier this way; keeping my back turned to him so I can mask the tears brimming my eyes. Who does he think he is? Who is he, period? How is this the same adoring man that was pursuing me the summer we met?.... It takes all my effort not to bolt for the front door—not to let my nose run or tears to stream down my face. No. I won't cry over him again. I won't let him win. Not like this.

Firm in my resolve, I take a deep breath before turning to him again. "You're not so confident, Mr. Big Shot..." My words falter at the sight of him ripping his shirt open, black buttons clattering all over the floor. "What-"

Baekhyun has me backed against the wall before I can utter another word. "Did you enjoy yourself?" He demands, holding my chin between his thumb and index finger. He peers down into my eyes; the familiar look held in his dark orbs has me quivering on the inside—and it isn't from fear. "Hmm? Did you enjoy embarrassing me earlier? Did you have your fun?"

I quickly recover. "Not my fault you don't know how to keep it in your pants."

"You wish you were in my pants." He grits out, lips curling mockingly.

There are so many things I want to throw up in his handsome face right now. So many little secrets and observations I've made over the past year that would make him falter—make him kneel. But today...

Today.

I choose violence.

Tangling my fingers in his hair, I yank on his delicate locks without remorse, pulling him into a brutal kiss of tongue and teeth. Baekhyun grunts in surprise, pressing me harder against the wall. The harsh clash of our mouths only seems to egg him on. The stinging bite he leaves on my bottom lip is nearly enough to break the skin. I don't know how long we stand there; my hands in his hair and his palms sliding down my back. There's no telling where he ends or I begin until the lack of air sinks in. His breathless puffs for air erupt goosebumps on my skin.

"Are we really doing this?" He pants, pulling away to brush his hair back. His eyes are more familiar to me now, softened by his calmer state, intense from the lust felt in his every touch.

I pause my exploration of his firm chest, arching a brow at him with a mocking grin. "Think you can last longer than a minute this time?"

Baekhyun clenches his jaw and steps away. For a moment, I worry if I pushed him too far until his lips crash back to mine. "Jump," He mutters gruffly, his grip near bruising on my ass.

"And if I don't..." The look in his eyes as he drags his dark brown eyes up to mine shuts me up entirely.

Baekhyun slowly leans closer, brushing his lips against the shell of my ear. "I'll fuck you against the goddamn window." The serious expression on his face combined with the threat is damn near intimidating—and I hate how aroused it leaves me.

Baekhyun hoists me up and walks to our room with quick strides, relentlessly keeping his lips glued to mine. He pushes open the door before dropping me unceremoniously onto the mattress. His lips are back on mine before I can chastise him for the mini heart attack, his impatient hands tug at the rest of my clothes. I let him pull off my pants and hurriedly move to unclip my bra in the meantime before his rough actions can rip the expensive fabric.

Baekhyun freezes above me, brown eyes transfixed on my matching red lacy set. It may be winter, but that doesn't mean I can't dress up nicely underneath endless layers of flannel and wool. Although, when I think about what happened not too long ago... Warmth fills my cheeks and I know I'm blushing way too hard to have done this countless times with him.

"Ah." Baekhyun tsks, stopping me from covering my chest. "Take it off." He breathes, soft lips brushing over my neck. "Let me see these tits bounce for me."

My eyes widen at his crude words, a gasp escapes my parted lips when he sucks harshly on a sensitive spot on my neck, pulling down the straps of my bra at a snail's pace. The poor clothing is tossed over his shoulder without a care in the world.

I'm no stranger to Baekhyun's habit of leaving pink and red hues on my skin, but today is different—today it feels like he has something to prove by trapping my skin between his teeth, marking me as his. He doesn't stop at my neck; his restless mouth ventures lower, painting my collarbones and chest with the shape of his lips.

I grit my teeth as he reaches my breasts, determined not to let him win me over so easily. It doesn't matter how much I want to melt under his warm hands mapping out the contours of my waist or tremble in anticipation at his breath fanning over my sensitive nipples. No matter what, I will not crumble... until he does first, at least.

Yeah—easier said than done with the way he's tugging my nipple with his teeth, roughly rolling the other between his fingers. It's all fun and games until his grip tightens on my hip, his pelvis grinding mercilessly against me. A move that has my back arching clear off of the mattress. He just presses me back down to the bed, continuing to alternate between each breast, pulling away minutes later with a wet pop of his lips. He's relentless in using every weak spot of mine. As if he knows what I'm trying to do.

"Not today, baby," He murmurs to my squirming form, chuckling in my ear. I can't help but bite my lip, breath caught in my throat when his hand slides down my body. His large palm covers my clothed core entirely. If it were any other day, I'd be flustered over how true his words from earlier were; the evidence of my previous admiring and current state of euphoria clear as day to his greedy hand, tugging at my last piece of clothing.

My heart races in the realization that I'm lying under him, almost completely bare, as he remains fully clothed besides the ripped shirt clinging to his broad shoulders.

"Ah," Baekhyun smacks my hands away, flashing a grin full of devious intentions. "Don't worry your pretty little head."

He's yanking my underwear down before I can get a word in, tossing them carelessly off the bed and spreading my thighs as far as they'll go.

"Always so ready for me," He muses, spreading my folds apart with his thumbs. I stop breathing entirely when he leans down, spitting onto my pussy. "Your hungry cunt has been waiting all morning for me, hmm?"

My lack of response doesn't bother him in the slightest as he meets my eye, sliding two of his long fingers into my core so suddenly I shout, grabbing his wrist. Baekhyun just pries my fingers off of him before interlocking them with his freehand, bracing our joined hands above my head. My eyes roll back at the burn of the unexpected intrusion. It's a dull, persistent ache while he shoves his fingers deeper into my cunt. He curls them up in a way that has me shaking at the seams, tugging at his silver locks as he brings me dangerously close to the edge. Right when I'm nearing my high, he pulls his fingers out, nonchalantly sucking on them while fiddling with his belt.

I gulp, relaxing back against the sheets. I can't even be mad at this point. Our argument ended the moment I started that fiery-filled kiss, but—

Baekhyun's belt clatters to the floor and his brown eyes have never looked so fierce—so carnal, I wonder if he plans to eat me alive. What I don't expect is for him to crawl further up the bed like an actual predator hunting his prey to hover over me again; his gaze not straying from mine for a second. The warmth of his body encloses me; it's second nature to relax under him when we're like this—when we're touching the tip of the iceberg before diving headfirst into the chilly depths of our lust. Sex with Baekhyun isn't like playing with fire; it's handling dry ice with bare hands.

And being in love with him is one of the most intense and excruciating experiences of my life.

We spend so much time eye-fucking each other that I'm not prepared for the bruising kiss he pulls me into, sliding his cock into my core without a warning.

"Ah—B-Baek!"

"Hmm?" He humors, his low voice filled with lust. "Now she speaks."

"Baekhyun." I gasp when he spreads my thighs wider; the pull from the unfamiliar stretch adds to his incessant pounding—his hips seeming to snap a mile a minute. Oh, please—please don't let both of us have muscle strain tomorrow morning. I swear I've never seen him move this fast for anything. Ever. Baekhyun, what the fuck? Have you started back up on your late-night visits to the gym or something? He's reaching depths he hasn't quite reached before, hitting a spot inside my core that makes me want to cringe away and slam myself onto his cock at the same time.

I yelp out when he tilts my hips at a different angle, not meaning to scratch his back so hard in my hurry to cling onto him. Baekhyun just groans, slamming rougher into me in retaliation, his teeth firmly bite down onto my shoulder.

"Baekhyun! what the—ah—fuck!?" I nearly shriek, appalled and aroused.

Baekhyun smirks, sliding a hand down to press his thumb on my clit. "What's the matter, baby?"

"B-" I can't even say his name without stammering, shaking under him when he slows down to roll his entire body against mine. The only thing I'm capable of at this point is gripping his shoulders, throwing my head back with a loud moan. I always thought of myself as not being a fan of sweat or having any strange, warm liquids touching me, but Baekhyun... Fucking Baekhyun. His sweaty chest brushing over my nipples is making me lose my damn mind—if I was feeling any more horny and adventurous, I'd lick the salty sweat off of his neck.

"Come on." Baekhyun pants with a satisfied grin. Sweat continues to drip from his honey-toned skin, sticking silver locks to his forehead. "Tell me."

The fucker, he knows exactly what's up. It's written all over his face. A part of me doesn't want to beg—my rational side. The one chastising me for falling into bed with him again in the first place. But I don't know how much longer I can take his teasing antics, so despite my stubbornness—despite the heart aching memories creeping up on me in such an intimate moment; I press my body to his.

"Fuck me like you mean it." I pant, yanking harshly on his hair, smirking at his pained hiss until his hips undulate in a new direction. The constant stimulation on my most sensitive spots has my high sneaking up on me so quickly, I don't have time to warn him.

"Bae—!"

Baekhyun's lips crash to mine, swallowing my cry of his name as I fall over that blissful edge. His cock is the only thing on my mind amongst the ringing in my ears—in the minute-long paradise where nothing else matters but our frantic hearts racing as one.

Baekhyun lets out a telling grunt before a burst of warmth fills me up. The remains of his release drip down my thighs with his erratic, shaky thrusts. He doesn't even pull out when he's done. He just leans tiredly over me, coaxing my lips into a lazy kiss. "You're the only one for me." He whispers as if sharing the biggest secret, all rosy-cheeked and wide-eyed.

Beautiful; there's no other way to describe him—in general, in this moment. Nothing compares to his mocha brown eyes that shine brighter than a million stars when his steady gaze sets on me. Nothing compares to the safety of his warm embrace that surrounds me. Nothing could come close to the way he drives me crazy in every single way. Love. Lust. Doesn't matter. If it's with him—for him, it's...

...

Is it worth it?

The emptiness I feel when he gently pulls himself from me triggers every painful memory imaginable: my birthday, the party, our summer fight, his ex, that phone call, his photoshoot...

Baekhyun collapses beside me on the bed, completely oblivious to the war going on in my head. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me close to his beating heart.

I wait for him to fall asleep, brushing damp silver locks of hair out of his eyes as his breathing slows. He looks so peaceful like that, so innocent while his face relaxes with sleep. So... So welcoming, like home.

Tears stream down my cheeks, blurring my vision of his twitching brows and pouted lips. I hope he's happy; I hope he got what he wanted.

Carefully sliding out from under his loving hold, I quietly get dressed, collect my duffle bag, and slip out of the room, holding onto the doorknob for dear life. His quiet mumbles drift through the crack of the door, tossing and turning as if already aware of my absence. I have to cover my mouth to contain my sobs.

I love him—I really do, but I...

I can't do this.

I can't take this anymore. If he won't open up to me; if he thinks I'm... I'm unworthy of knowing his past—hell, fuck that. Apparently caring too much leads to being left behind, if that encounter this morning is anything to go by.

My laughter just ends in more sobs, the salty taste of tears on my tongue more bitter with the realization that once again, I've lost.

But at what cost?

The ache in my chest and between my legs is an answer within itself—the last push I need to retrieve my car keys from the counter.

If he wants to be that way, Baekhyun... Baekhyun can do whatever the fuck he wants. What's the difference between me and all the others? What use am I? Is it because I learned how to cook? Clean? I wonder how many of those late nights at work are actually spent bent over his sketchpad. Am I his personal little stay-at-home trophy? Does it feel good to show me around important events? After today, I might as well hang up the thought of ever stepping into his world again. No one wants a possessive girlfriend in their corner of the wrestler ring. No one needs a jealous, nosy, demanding burden weighing them down. And I have my high standards as well.

I can—and will not—be one of those girls.

Not even for him.

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3  P(1) P(2) | Part 4 P(1) P(2) | Part 5 P(1)  P(2) | Part 6 Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3  P(1) P(2) | Part 4 P(1) P(2) | Part 5 P(1)  P(2) | Part 6 P(1)  P(2)✓ ----- P(3)   P(4)

A/N: I can feel the pitchforks on the rise, l-listen (<.<) just trust me on this, not all is lost.... Or is it?  😇 I’ll try to finish the next part as soon as I can. *cracks fingers* let’s see what this troubled couple gets up to next.

[solange-lol]

"why don't we be friends (why don't we make out)" - (1/1)

words: 2,373

read on ao3

—

There are very few people that Nico forgets about. At least, as far as the people that have stuck around with him for most of his life.

He’s known Percy and Annabeth since they were young, remembering watching the two of them chase each other around the schoolyard and purposefully try and get desks right next to each other before they were inevitably separated by alphabetical last name seating. He remembers trying to convince Piper to do his french project and Jason sitting in the halls with him outside of the music room when they wouldn’t want to go outside for recess in middle school. He can still hear the alarm when Leo accidentally knocked over a bunsen burner in their sophomore year chemistry class, and the feeling of paint on his skin when Hazel tripped and sent half of her palette onto him in their art class.

Nico can even recall moments with the people he was never particularly close to, like when Rachel told him she loved him backstage of their winter concert after only having known him for five minutes (in a very lesbian/gay solidarity way, of course), or when Grover spent an entire hour hiding out in their school library to get away from their math sub.

It’s strange now, looking across such a large circle of people piled into Jason and Thalia’s house. They’re all people from his grade (or class , he supposes, now that they’re officially graduated), Each one of them, Nico can remember at least one conversation he’s had with them, one story he’s passed into his closer friend group that is laughed over and then inevitably moved on from.

It was supposed to be a big party celebrating all their friendships throughout the years.

Ironically, so many people that had such little impact on him, in retrospect.

Which is why it comes as a surprise to him when he sees a flash of blonde curls and freckled skin among the sea of people. He’s hit with what feels like a wall of memories of the two of them, laying in the same bed trading quiet secrets, and walks to the store to get an inhumane amount of candy that they can go share at the pier. Images of blue eyes, warm hands in his, and the sound of stifled laughter at midnight feel all too familiar. Nico is stuck on them.

He hasn’t seen Will in years.

It wasn’t exactly his choice. It wasn’t either of theirs, really. They had gone to middle school together, and from the ages of 10 to 14, Will knew the most about him.

And then their middle school graduation came and went, and Will left for a boarding school. Nico remembers, vaguely, Will asking him to come with them.

“They offer more classes, and there are more opportunities for help,” they had said, or something along the lines of it. “And we could be roommates.”

Part of him wanted to. All of him almost went. But it was the same year he lost his sister, and while moving to another state for school sounded like a fantastic way to avoid all his trauma, he had to stay with his family. Not that his father would have stopped him, but Nico knew he couldn’t go. Not yet.

So he stayed, and Will left, and it all worked out fine. They texted every other day, facetimed once or twice a month when their schedules lined up. Will came home for Christmas that year, telling stories about the other kids on their floor and their girlfriend. Then, when he came home for that summer, about their boyfriend.

Nico would listen, then catch Will up about what was going on at his public school. He had gone out on a date with one boy which was nice but didn’t turn into anything, and Will told him he would find someone eventually. They took trips to the mall together instead of the pier, mostly just to get milkshakes and have a place to walk around.

One morning, Will convinced him to bike to the beach in the morning to see the sunrise. The sky ended up being too cloudy, but they still sat together on the empty lifeguard chair, swapped sweatshirts and bagels with cream cheese, and talking about summer jobs and college.

Then Will left for their sophomore year, and school caught up to both of them and whatever kept them going was lost. The most Nico talked to them was through the occasional Snapchat sent to each other or on a group facetime

The last time Nico had called Will alone, it was in a panic to ask advice on how to break up with the boy he was dating at the time because he realized that relationships weren’t really his thing, at least not yet. Will had sat quietly, giving him occasional advice, and mostly just comforted him.

And that was it.

Nico had gotten a new phone later that year, and all their call logs and long text threads were lost into the depths of his phone memory.

It was bittersweet, in all honesty, and pretty painless for the most part. Maybe it’s because Nico never really forgot about Will. There was never any clear ending; no hard feelings between the two of them. He still sees their posts on social media, sees their mom in the store on occasion. He remembers passing Will at their local fair when they came home again for the summer of their junior year with their boyfriend that they were still dating, and then later again the next when he noticed that all posts had been removed from their Instagram including the ones with said boyfriend and nothing but will - they/them in their bio.

He wondered, briefly, where Will had gone when he didn’t even see him in passing over the following summer. Was he still going to the boarding school? Had his family moved out of the state entirely?

It never felt like a friendship breakup. It was clear now, though.

Nico wonders at which point it became one. He didn’t mean to stare at Will as long as he did. Everything had just come washing over him at once, and he was frozen in place staring at the person Nico had once called his best friend.

He doesn’t even realize he was staring until Will looks back. Their blue eyes meet his brown ones, and reality sets back in. The loud music he had drowned out in his daydream came filtering back through his ears, and he stumbles as people shove past him towards the kitchen. Still, his gaze locks on Will.

Neither of them makes a move towards each other at first.

Then, a moment later, Will is right next to him.

“Hey,” they say it slowly, almost like they were testing the waters, like they knew how long it had been since they had spoken.

Nico doesn’t know what to say. His first instinct was to hug them.

He withstands it, though, instead grabbing onto their wrist and pulling them past the crowd of people and into one of the rooms off of the main hall, which was miraculously empty. He can still hear the pounding music, but it was a little bit quieter with the door closed. Quiet enough that he can think again.

“Uh, hi,” Will tries again, and god, their smile never changed.

“Sorry,” Nico says once he realized he had just seemingly dragged them into a secondary location with no explanation. “It was just… loud. Out there.”

“I get it,” Will says, sitting down on the couch pushed onto the far wall and looking back up at Nico. They were wearing a pinkish-orange button-up Hawaiian shirt that looked straight out of their dad’s closet (Nico would know, he’s seen it before) that was half-tucked into mid-rise light wash jeans that were cuffed just enough that you could see a glimpse of where their socks met their Converse. Yellow, possibly the same pair they had bought at the mall two years prior when Nico was there.

They got taller, he thinks vaguely. Nico had too, but Will still has at least half a foot on him.

“So, what’s up?”

“Not much, I guess,” he shrugs, twisting his ring. “I mean, I graduated. I assume you did too.”

Will nods. “I did. Lou Ellen invited me as her plus one. You know her, right? Friends with Rachel.”

Nico nods. Shoulder length, cloud-like hair that was a different color every other week. Wore lots of random thrifted t-shirts over big pants. Loud personality, even louder voice. Band kid. Friends with Cecil; her good grades probably being the only reason he hasn’t been kicked out of the school yet. Once debated the legitimacy of gender binaries with him in an English class.

“Sorry for, like, staring at you before,” he says. “It’s been a while.”

They nod again. “All good. I was staring at you before anyway.”

“You were?”

“Yeah,” Will shrugs. “You’re easy to look at.”

Then, a moment later, “It has been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah. You’ve changed a bit.”

“Have I?” They ask. “I think just my look, maybe. I’m still just as obnoxious.”

Nico snorts. It’s comforting to know they could just slip back into it like this. Like no time had ever passed, and Nico is back in their bedroom creating each other in The Sims.

“Are you still dating Connor?” Nico asks, vaguely remembering the last conversation they had.

“Nah, we broke up last winter.”

“Any reason?”

Will squints a bit like they’re curious why Nico’s asking. It makes Nico blush, immediately regretting saying anything.

“Dunno. We just grew apart,” they say. Then, “Sounds kinda familiar, doesn’t it?” followed by a laugh.

“I didn’t mean to stop talking to you,” Nico says quickly because he didn’t. There are days where he sees Will’s Instagram story or a tweet and knows that even though he could still comment, it wouldn’t quite be the same.

“Life got busy,” Will says. “It happens”

“I didn’t want it to. Not to us.”

“So let's restart.”

Nico blinks. “Just… start over our entire friendship?”

“No, just pick up where we left off.”

“Just like nothing happened?” he asks, sitting down on the couch next to them.

“Just like nothing happened,” Will affirms.

They’re both quiet for a moment, then—

“Do you remember what you told me when you first came out as bisexual to me?”

It was in the basement of Will’s house. Nico had come out as gay a few weeks prior, and when he was talking about the boy he liked, they just casually mentioned it. Being with Will like this again reminded him of something they had said, and something he later found out.

“I think I just, like… told you, right?” Will smiles. “And I said you were a big part of helping me figure out.”

“Yeah. I always thought you meant because I had already come out,” Nico said. “It wasn’t until, like, last year that Piper mentioned you meant that because you liked me.”

Will laughed again. “I figured you didn’t. You were always talking about what bad of a couple we would make.”

“Yeah,” Nico said, and his heart picked up pace as his knee knocked against Will’s by accident. Neither of them moved. “I actually had a massive crush on you for a while. I think I just said that because I wanted to try and get over it, so I wanted you to indirectly reject me.”

“Did you ever get over it?”

Nico laughs. “Not really. But I moved on.”

He notices Will shift closer, notices how their hands are now on top of each other and their legs are fully pressed together.

“Same,” Will says, moving their head closer to Nico’s until their foreheads are pressed together and their breaths mingle. They look at him for any sign to stop, and Nico doesn’t move.

“Good thing we’re starting over then, right?” they continue, practically a breath of a whisper before their lips connect, and god Nico did not think this was where his night was going but no way in hell was he about to stop it. (He’s not sober enough to care, anyway, and seemingly neither is Will judging by the strong scent smell of weed coming off of his shirt.)

Their hands laced together, subconsciously, almost like muscle memory from all the days walking hand in hand down the dock. (Nico wonders if his younger self was ever trying to tell his mind something.) Nico’s other hand comes up to rest on warm skin, brushing Will’s cheek with his thumb like he’s trying to wipe the freckles off.

Will wraps one arm around Nico’s waist, pulling him closer until he eventually just shifts so he’s in their lap. Will certainly doesn’t complain, only tilting their head to deepen the kiss and breaking apart their hands so they can run one hand through Nico’s hair.

They have to break apart after a moment, and Nico can help it when he laughs.

“Guess we were a little dumb when we were younger, huh?”

Will’s breathing heavy, but Nico doesn’t miss the familiar playful glint in their eye. “I don’t know what you mean. You’re still an idiot,” they say, pressing a kiss to the underside of Nico’s jaw, and another one right next to his ear.

He wonders if Will has thought about doing this the same way Nico has.

“Says you,” Nico says. “You were far more oblivious than I was.”

“I’m not the one who said we would make a bad couple,” they remind Will.

“Yeah?” he says, then leans back in to kiss Will again. Their mouths slot together, and god, they’re an even better kisser than Nico ever thought they could be. Something in his mind tells him maybe it’s not relationships he didn’t like, maybe he just knew it wasn’t the right person.

Perhaps Will’s that person he was always looking for.

Nico leans back, just barely so he can mumble “Lucky for you, I’m willing to test that theory,”  against Will’s lips just before they pull him in once more.

—

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[alyasgf]

Teenage Rebellion -Adrinette April Day 2-5

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Summary- Marinette convinces Adrien to sneak out! Featuring a daring escape, Jagged Stone concert, André’s ice cream, game night, and cuddling!

Notes- knocking out 5 prompts in 1 because I’m late! Featuring prompts 2-5 rebellion, game night, best friends, and jagged stone! I decided to skip the commission prompt, at least for right now, which is why this was made :)

Side note! they know each others secret identities identity but Chat never officially said he had a crush on Ladybug. Therefore Marinette is fully aware of Adrien’s crush on her and is a huge flirt about it.

AO3

She had been trying to convince Adrien all day and if she kept using those faces he just knew he’d cave soon.

“I told you I can’t! I have a photoshoot and fencing practice Mari.” He said, avoiding her eyes.

“I barely got Jagged to give us these tickets last minute! And they’re backstage passes. Backstage Adrien. Picture it with me.” She pulled him in my his shoulders, looping her arm around him.

Adrien tried to suppress a chill and conserve his nerves. Her arm was around him. No big deal.

“Just you, me, the biggest rockstar in the world, and his huge pet alligator! Tell me its not worth your fathers wrath. You could even hide out at my place and spend the night! You wouldn’t have to deal with him until the next day.” She then turned to him, holding his shoulders and staring into his eyes.

“You have got to live a little Adrien. What’s the worst that could happen?”

And with that he caved.

“Fine what time is the concert.” He said, signing defeatedly.

“Yes!” Marinette pumped her first in the air and excitedly told him her plan.

————————

At exactly 3:01 pm the next day he heard tapping at his window.

“You’re late.” He said to the girl two stories down outside his window.

“By a minute, I think you’ll live. Now throw down your bag.”

“Nathalie will be coming to get me in 30 minutes. I need to be long gone.” He explained, throwing his tied lined of curtains down for her to hold still as he climbed.

“Be careful, we don’t have time to stop at a hospital due to a broken leg and I don’t need you getting rope burn or messing up that pretty face.” She teased.

“Oh shut up I’m trying to focus over here.” He struggled to get down without accidentally sliding.

“You’re taking too long! You’re more than halfway just jump I’ll catch you I promise.” She said, and when Adrien looked down she was tapping her watch.

“Are you insane? I don’t have a death wish Mari, just wait a second.”

It was at this moment she chose to start silently chanting jump.

“This is peer pressure you know!”

“Shut up and jump already.”

“No!”

“Jump!”

He jumped.

As he braced himself for the short fall he felt himself feel in soft, unsteady arms.

They both toppled to the ground laughing with the rush of adrenaline.

“You’d catch me huh.” He said once they calmed down.

They laid shoulder to shoulder in the grass heads turned to one another.

Before Marinette could come up with a witty reply they heard something that made them freeze.

“Adrien I heard noise whats going on in her-“

They turned up to see Nathalie’s head sticking out the window, a look of surprise in her eyes.

Adrien knew he was doomed. Still stood up and gave her pleading eyes with his hands formed in a prayer form.

“I didn’t see this. As far as I know you said you weren’t feeling good and I had to cancel your appointments. Understood?”

“Thank you thank you thank you!” Adrien said, beaming brighter than the sun.

“Does this mean we can go through the front gate?” Marinette asked sheepishly.

“What was your plan if you couldn’t?” Nathalie asked with a disappointed look.

“Sneak through unnoticed?” Marinette offered.

“Mari! You said you had a plan.” Adrien said turning to her with his arms crossed.

“I never said it was a good one.” She said shrugging.

Nathalie nodded and they went on their way.

Outside of the gate was Marinette’s bike and two helmets.

“Where am I supposed to get on?” Adrien asked, confused.

Then he saw Marinette eye the handlebars.

“No no no! Absolutely not!” He protested.

“Do you wanna see Jagged or not?”

Adrien rode on the handlebars.

—————————

“Marinette would you slow down! I don’t wanna fall off!”

“Watch your sharp turns!”

“Sidewalk! Sidewalk! Sidewalk!”

“Adrien, lean left I can’t see!”

“If I lean we’re gonna fall Mari!”

“Have a little faith in me!”

“Dear god help us.”

“Would you calm down drama queen!”

“Hey!”

They rode with his small suitcase on wheels dragging behind them, tied with a single rope Marinette had brought.

By the time they got to Marinette’s house Adrien had lost count of the near death experiences he had on that bike.

“Never again Marinette.” He huffed as he got off the bike with shaking legs.

“Bonding experience!” She said with a smirk.

She pulled him into the bakery. He said a quick hi to her parents before he was yanked over to the trapdoor.

“Hurry and put your stuff in my room. If we start running late we won’t have time to walk which would mean another fun bike ride Sunshine.”

“Marinette I would really like to see Jagged Stone in one piece if thats not to much to ask.” He huffed, climbing the trapdoor, throwing his suitcase in, and coming back down.

“Are we going or what?”

“Get ready for the time of your life Agreste.” She said in a way that lit Adrien’s heart on fire.

Adrien could get used to that tone.

—————————

By the time they left the concert Adrien wasn’t sure anything ever could top that day.

He and Marinette had spent the last 5 hours singing at the tops of their lungs front row at a Jagged Stone concert. They danced together and Adrien had never felt more alive.

Adrien bought them matching t-shirts (as a thank you to Marinette for getting the tickets, not because he thought they looked like a couple when they matched or anything.) When they went backstage to meet Jagged, he signed their shirts and gave them signed CDs and posters.

Needless to say they were on top of the world.

Marinette suggested they take the long way home because it was such a beautiful night, and who was Adrien to disagree?

Their luck led them to André and his magical ice cream.

“Oh I don’t know Adrien I don’t think i can finish an ice cream right now.” Marinette said, trying to pull them along.

“Then maybe we can share?” Adrien suggested nervously.

Marinette shrugged and Adrien took it as a yes. She decided to sit on a bench as Adrien went to get the ice cream.

“Hey André.” He greeted.

“Ah yes Adrien! I see you brought a girl! Would you like one to share with the lucky lady?” He asked while preparing his scoops.

“Yes please.” Adrien was curious what flavors he would get. He hoped it’d be something Marinette would like.

“Hmm... blackberry and peppermint. An explosive mix and thats a fact! But oftentimes it’s the opposites that attract." He said adding the flavors onto a cone. “What do you think?” He handed Adrien the ice cream.

“Perfect.” Adrien said, almost breathless. “Thank you so much André have a good night.” After paying him Adrien turned to Marinette.

She was sitting on a bench looking at some birds fight over bread. The sun was setting right behind her and it lit her up in the most beautiful way.

Adrien took out his phone to take a picture and just as he clicked it Marinette turned toward him. She had a soft look in her eyes that made the picture come out perfectly.

“Bring the ice cream over stalker.” She said with a giggle.

“Oh I thought you didn’t want it.” Adrien said teasingly as he took a large bite while the ice cream was still out of her grasps.

“Adriennnn.” She whined, and again Adrien caved.

“Oh fine.”

And they shared the ice cream walking home. And although both got sticky fingers and mouths from the melting mess, they wouldn’t have had it any other way.

—————————

“So what’s the plan now?” Adrien asked as they entered Marinette’s room. “I’ve never been to any sleepovers before so you’ll have to guide me.” He walked over to the chaise and sat down.

“Hold on I’m gonna grab some things.” She said rifling through the trunk at the foot of the lounge.

She ended up grabbing out a deck of Uno cards and Monopoly.

“The biggest tests of friendship known to mankind.” She brandished the boxes with a smirk. “So which one first?”

Marinette spent almost an hour trying to get a smooth game of Uno going but Adrien was pitiful. She almost felt bad for how hard he was getting beat. Almost.

After about 5 minutes of explaining Monopoly she gave up.

“You know what? Maybe this is for another time when we aren’t so tired from a day of excitement.” She said packing up the games. “Ultimate Mega Strike?”

“Oh I thought you’d never ask.” Adrien replied, bouncing up and down with anticipation.

“Wow I’ve never seen someone so excited to meet their doom.” Marinette smirked while turning on the TV and game.

“I could play circles around you any day, bug.”

“Then lets test it.” She challenged. “First to 10 wins picks the movie or show we watch after.”

“You’re so on.”

—————————

Adrien lost. Adrien lost bad.

Turns out what Marinette wants, Marinette gets. And what she really wanted was to rub that smug smile off of Adrien’s face.

Now there he sat with his jaw dropped.

“No way I only won one.” He stared in shock at the losing screen.

“Aww its okay Adrien.” She said condescendingly. “Since its your first sleepover you can still pick. Its only right.”

“I’m going to choose because I want to not only because you said I can you know.” Adrien said with scowl on his face and his arms crossed.

“Right.” Marinette let out a small fond laugh. “Im going to grab some blankets and change into my pjs downstairs. You change in here and I’ll knock before I come back. Cool?”

“Mari can we build a fort?” Adrien asked with childlike innocence just radiating off of him.

“Of course we can kitty.”

————————————

They stayed up until the early morning hours that night, building forts, watching anime, and talking.

Adrien took dozens of pictures to remember the moments because he swears its the most magical think he has ever experienced.

The next morning, Adrien awoke with a sleeping Marinette across from him. Her hair was sticking out in odd places. He could see her rise and fall with each breathe. He could hear her soft snores.

As he admired her, she opened her eyes and looked into his. He blushed, embarrassed for being caught staring.

Then in a whisper she said, “Are you a cuddler?”

Adrien nodded with wide eyes and a red face.

She then proceeded to move closer and lay her head on her chest. Adrien instinctively put his arms around her.

“Can we stay here a while longer?” She asked in the same whispered voice.

“Please.” Adrien whispered back.

If teenage rebellion always felt this good, he never wanted to stop.

End notes- Thinking of making a second part where Adrien tells Mari how he feels or where I actually write out the fort scene. Let me know which one you’d prefer and what you thought of the fic in the replies!

@adrinetteapril

[boymeetsweevil]

in your court

Grouping: Reader x B-ball player!Jaehyun (feat. BFF!Hyuck)

Word Count: ~10.8k

Warnings/Themes: Two idiots in love, oc is scary when mad, hyuck is crafty always, jae is a bit intense but he’s just trying his best, gratuitous descriptions of dimples, a kiss!!! sfw!

Prompt: “awkward!oc with his basketball teammate jaehyun. Honestly anything with bff!haechan.”

“Make sure you don’t make it look shaky.”

Donghyuck puts the phone camera close to his face so he can better see your handiwork through the video call. He looks a bit like a fish, but you can’t see him because you’re focused on the mirror in front of you.

“Remind me why I’m being forced to do this?”

“Because I’m your best friend and I deserve a sign just as much as Jisung and Johnny.”

You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes so you don’t mess up the number 14 you’re drawing carefully onto your cheek in eyeliner. Although you hate to see good makeup go to waste, you’re trying to be a better friend while also trying not to accidentally write the number backwards. It’s Donghyuck’s new number this season and he begged you to show some team spirit despite the fact that you normally mix with sports the same way oil mixes with water. The last time you showed up at practice was the first day of the season and you fell from the third courtside bleacher after Donghyuck called you over to introduce you to a cute new walk-on team member. If anything, just being around sports is dangerous for you.

A minute later, you sneeze while holding the pencil and draw a huge line straight through all your hard work. Donghyuck literally screams and you hang up the call to focus. When you finally finish redrawing on the side of your face, there’s half an hour left before the first home game of the spring season starts. You grab the matching construction paper sign you made earlier, complete with a huge gold glitter 14, and head out the door.  Taeyong is supposed to pick you up so you can make it to the gym on time. He’s the only other friend you have who is remotely associated with sports and that’s only because he’s dating one of the players, Doyoung.

The ticket Donghyuck gave you days ago places you near the court’s side with a near-perfect view. You settle in and wait for the game to begin. The team is already out on half of the court, doing some light warmup tosses and making the occasional mean eye at the visiting team practicing on the other half. You catch your best friend’s eye and he lights up when he sees the sign and eyeliner drawing.

“Check me out, Hyuck!” 

You turn to give him a full view of your profile, subtly proud of your skills.

“Look at you,” he drawls as he jogs over to you, “You know, I think this is the best your eyeliner has ever looked.”

“God, you’re so annoying.” 

You try your best to cast an elbow at him without disturbing the still slightly wet glitter on the sign. When you nearly take out the old man sitting directly in front of you, you settle for flipping him off.

“Wait,” Taeyong peers at the sign, “Aren’t you—”

“I think Doyoung said he was looking for you. Something about wanting a good luck kiss.”

Taeyong narrows his eyes but still stands up to go look for said boyfriend. Doyoung’s not the nervous type, but he’s also not the type to say no to some pre-game affection. You watch Taeyong disappear towards the locker room while Donghyuck steps over some of the fans already seated and takes the now open spot next to you.

“Hey,” he says with no trace of humor in his voice any longer. “Promise you’ll still be my friend after this game?”

You place the sign on your lap and turn to look at your friend. Lately the coach has been pushing him harder and you suppose it’s starting to wear down his usual confidence. With the hand that’s not covered in little golden glitter flecks, you reach down to rub his shoulder.

“Of course I will, Hyuck. And even if you guys don’t win tonight, I’m still taking you to get food after. My treat.”

It was supposed to be a rare moment of sincere friendliness. But this seems to distress him further because he looks down at your hand on his arm and then groans before covering his face in his hands. You’re confused but you don’t have any time to ask him what’s up. A few of his teammates walk over then.

“Sorry to break up the love fest, but Coach wants us to do some stretches before the whistle,” team captain Johnny says, gesturing to the other side of the gym where some other players are already contorting themselves. 

Behind Johnny stands that new walk-on. The one you fell on your face in front of. He takes in your temporary face tattoo and overly detailed sign and smirks, allowing a dimple to wink at you. You can only hope to every deity in the universe that he doesn’t remember the way you first met.

“Hey,” he smiles good-naturedly. “Glad to see you made it here in one piece.” 

“Thank you,” you say with way too much sincerity.

It’s enough to knock Donghyuck out of his bad mood and make him snort loudly beside you. The new guy smiles a bit wider, revealing a twin dimple. You look away.

“Don’t get too friendly, Jung,” Donghyuck says with fake menace in his voice. “There’s only room for one Dream Team member in her life, and that’s me.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you guys were—”

“We’re just friends,” you blurt out before looking down at the fascinating liver spots on the old man’s head in front of you.

“Yeah, she wishes.”

“I definitely don’t,” you snap.

He sticks his tongue out at you. “Well, I’m glad you don’t.” 

“Guys, come on!” Johnny calls a moment before the coach’s whistle blows to give a final warning.

As they walk over to the side of the gym you curse yourself for acting so weird in front of that Jung kid. If he didn’t think you were a dope when you tripped over nothing the first time you met, you’re certain he thinks you have the charms of a 13 year-old boy by now. The only thing that snaps you out of it is the fact that Donghyuck is in a time of distress and clearly needs his friend. 

With squared shoulders and a new sense of duty, you try your hardest to be the world’s best cheerleader. You’re not really sure how sports work, basketball included. The game itself turns out to be really fun. Even though you’re not quite sure what’s happening. Taeyong sends you a text with a picture of your own mildly confused face contorted into a pout as you raise your handmade sign a moment too late, after everyone has already sat back down. But eventually you figure it out after enough times of standing when people around you wearing school colors stand up first. You know enough to cheer every time Donghyuck takes the ball to the basket and boo loudly every time he gets knocked down or his shot misses. In fact, you get so into it that you catch yourself cheering for other players. You even make the mistake of cheering once for new kid Jung but immediately stop when he catches a glimpse of you in the stands and shoots you a beaming smile. 

They win by a small margin, thanks to a 3 pointer Johnny shot in the first half of the game. By the time that happens, you feel like you have a good feel for the game. You don’t have to wait for the other fans from your school to stand up when the last buzzer rings, and you instinctively run out onto the court with the rest of them as the final score settles. There’s adrenaline and joy pushing you into Donghyuck’s arms. He’s genuinely surprised but welcomes the greeting, spinning you lightly while he laughs.

“Congrats on the first win of the season,” you shout when you finally pull back. He lets you squish his cheeks in excitement. Doyoung ambles over then, looking for Taeyong. You offer him congratulations as well.

“Thanks,” he smirks a bit as he takes in your large sign and the slightly smudged 14 on your cheek. “Shouldn’t Jaehyun be the first to hear it, though?”

You raise a confused brow.

“Shouldn’t I be the first to hear what?”

You can’t help the way you stumble back against Donghyuck at the deep sound of Jung—no— Jaehyun’s voice. He looks pleased. Probably with the outcome of their first game.

“I was just saying you should get the first ‘congrats’,” Doyoung explains, nodding in your direction. Jaehyun blinks, but takes it in stride.

“I’d be glad to receive it,” he says with a grin. His dimples pop out even more than usual under the sheen of sweat and the glow from the fluorescents. “So, what’d you think? How’d I do?”

You have no idea why but your heart is beating like it’ll fly out of your chest. It takes everything in you to muster up a cool and natural response.

“You throw good.”

Donghyuck, the traitor that he is, gets sent into a cackling fit. If you listen carefully, between the gasps for air and the hyena-pitched giggles you can hear him calling you a dork. You’d turn to yell at him, but he’s right. Doyoung barely covers up his own laughter while leaning on Donghyuck’s shoulder to try to disguise the sound as a series of coughs. But Jaehyun merely smiles down at his shoes as if he’s somehow moved by your clunky words.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“No, I feel like I did well today thanks to your little sign.”

“The sign? Oh. Actually, this is for—” 

In that moment you realize two things. The first is that Jaehyun’s jersey has a big 14 emblazoned on the front of it. Just like the one you spent 10 whole minutes drawing onto your right cheek. And the one you spent 2 hours glittering the night before. The second is that you aren’t nearly as observant as you thought you were. Then you realize a third thing: Donghyuck is slowly creeping away from you as it all clicks together in your head.

When you turn to face your friend, the color has already drained out of his neck. He can see the wheels turning in your head and he raises his hands in a placating gesture, but you cut him off before he can even start. Grabbing at his jersey you make him turn around until you can see the white number 6 emblazoned on the fabric. It’s the same number he had last season, and the season before that.

“Just to clarify,” you begin with an unsettlingly calm voice, “When you asked me earlier if I would still be your friend after the game, you were talking about this, right?”

Donghyuck’s eyes go wide and dart around anywhere but your face. “You know what? I think you’re thinking of my brother, Hyongduck. We look a lot alike, so it’s an honest mistake.”

The coach calling him over in that moment is the only thing that keeps you from eviscerating him on the court with so many witnesses. You let him go, but not without him having to un-pry your fingers from his jersey. Jaehyun watches on with amusement in his eyes and you remember that he saw you nearly Hulk out on your friend.

“So, you actually didn’t know my number was 14?”

You shake your head, “I thought it was Hyuck’s.”

“I see.”

He tilts his head again, with eyes narrowed he looks you over before looking past you to where Donghyuck has finally made it to locker room safety.

“Well,” he fiddles with the chain around his neck, “I’m kind of sad the sign isn’t actually mine.”

“Oh. I mean, you can keep it if you want.”

Jaehyun’s head ducks down a second time, shaking his head at the ground like he heard something funny that you couldn’t hear. He does take the sign out of your hands though. With slow hands, he wraps the construction paper up until all the remaining glitter is safely tucked away.

“What about that one?”

“What do you mean?”

He points at his own cheek to mirror yours. You had forgotten all about the 14 you drew on your face to go with the sign.

“I don’t—I don’t know if you can wrap this one up, you know” you laugh stiltedly.

“Yeah. But I could always take a bit for the road. May I?”

All you can do is let out an eloquent ‘huh’ before he’s reaching out then and swiping away at some of the eyeliner that had moved around during the game. The drag of the pad of his thumb across your cheek should be completely harmless. Donghyuck has been infinitely rougher with his handling of you; one of the privileges of close friendship. And yet it’s this soft touch that has your breath leaving you like he punched it out of you. You swear the corner of his mouth raises, but it could be a trick of the light.

“What are you doing after—”

“I gotta go, sorry. Good game,” you toss over your shoulder before pulling your phone up to your ear like you’re taking a sudden phone call. 

No one has to know that you spend the next few minutes dunking your head under one of the running faucets in an empty locker room to cool your heated face.

---

Nearly 20 minutes later, Donghyuck is tiptoeing out of the men’s locker room. He doesn’t notice the shadow waiting for him. When he deems the coast all clear, he opens up his messaging app and shoots you a text asking for your whereabouts.

“I’m right here.”

He jumps nearly 3 feet in the air before letting the scream that built in his throat turn into a whine. You’re just barely visible in the dark corner of the gym. If he squints you look a bit like his sleep paralysis demon.

“You scared me,” he says as he takes a step back only to hit a wall.

“Funny how that happens.”

You pull out your phone, stilling standing in the dark, and let the light from your phone cast eerie shadows across your face. Donghyuck gulps audibly as he watches you type slowly in response to his text. The sound of his phone notification moments later sounds deafening in the otherwise silent space.

You (21:39) - Run.

“Look, let’s talk this out like adults.” His hands come up, palms exposed like you’re a feral animal.

“I knew you weren’t number 14,” your voice is steady and devoid of emotion as you take a step towards him.

“Then you shouldn’t have fallen for it—shit. Wait!”

He trips in his haste to get away from you and falls. You foot lands dangerously close to his face as you come to stand in over him and he grimaces.

“Please don’t kill me, I’ll do anything.”

“Why did you tell me your number was Jaehyun’s number? Make it good and maybe I’ll let you live.”

“I just felt like it.”

“What the hell!”

“I’m serious.”

“Wrong answer, Hyuck.”

With that, you wriggle a foot free from one of your sneakers and shove your socked foot over his nose. You’ve been wearing the shoes all day and, because you forgot to do laundry the night before, the socks are recycled. The sound of Donghyuck’s cries for help make you slightly better and you smile softly to yourself.

You would think that Donghyuck would have learned his lesson about not causing chaos in your life after a face-full of foot. But you should know that it’s practically his job description after knowing him for as long as you have. Sometimes you love that about him and sometimes you kind of hate him for it. This time, you hate him for it. 

Donghyuck prefaces the outing as a way of apologizing for tricking you. Normally you would have been slightly more critical. The first thing to tip you off should have been the fact the “apology" in question was coming almost two and a half weeks after the fateful jersey swap accident. The second thing should have been that the “apology” was coming in the form of a trip to a very specific tea house you don’t frequent because you’re not a tea person. And Donghyuck knows this. Because he knows everything else about you. Like which sweatpants you wear when you’re feeling bloated or when you just need a hug. But mainly you should have known something was up because it was Donghyuck. When he feels like he should do something, there’s no stopping him.

“What do you want to order,” he asks while holding the front door open for you to pass through. 

“A smoothie.”

“It’s a damn tea house, order something normal.”

“A smoothie is normal.”

“Do you order hot dogs at seafood restaurants too,” he pins you with a tired glare. You mirror the glare and add crossed arms.

“If they don’t have a smoothie, then I don’t want anything.”

You take a look around at the interior of the shop. It’s the polar opposite of the shops you usually frequent, which are all trendy with their mixes of dark, unfinished woodwork and sleek minimalist furniture. This place is almost cottage-like in the ornateness of the older architecture and the collection of kitschy antique pieces. You’re not surprised to see that a good deal of the patrons are older, some verging on elderly. There’s only a handful of people who look like they could be your peers. One of them looks oddly familiar. You can’t put your finger on it, but there’s something familiar about the way he stands and the delicate gold links laying across the back of his neck.

“Jaehyun,” Donghyuck calls a bit too excitedly, “Hey, man is that you? What are you doing here”

“You told me to meet you—” Donghyuck cuts him off with a dramatic gasp and a glance at his bare wrist.

“Aw, would you look at the time. I actually have somewhere to be right now, so I can’t stick around.”

“But you drove us here,” you whip your head around to look at him, but he coughs suddenly and looks away.

“Yeah, sorry. No time to drop you back off at your place, so I guess you have to figure that out yourself. Jae drives though. Maybe you can figure something out.”

Neither of you really know what to say. You watch silently with your mouth open in disbelief as Donghyuck turns on his heel and struts out of the tea shop exit, whistling contentedly. You suppose that if you’re the god of chaos reincarnated, all of this would feel like a good day’s work. You berate yourself for recently washing your socks.

“Good to see you again,” Jaehyun says after a beat. He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Thought I had scared you off after...yeah.”

“Oh, right. That.”

The air feels both too thick and too thin at the same time. You want to leave, every fiber of your being is screaming at you to leave before you do something weird in front of him again. But you can’t move. So you stand there, 3 feet away and not saying anything as Jaehyun looks over the large chalkboard menu hanging above the head of the older woman who is manning the front counter.

“What are you getting?”

“Me? Uh, I don’t know. I’m not really a tea person.”

“Well, what kind of person are you?”

Given the context, it’s a harmless question. But there’s a sing-songy lilt to the way he asks the question. It’s so blatant that curiosity gets the best of you and you stop purposefully avoiding looking at him. One of his dimples is out and he’s very nearly poking the tip of his tongue out at you, like he knows you’re suffering and he thinks it's funny. Almost like he’s flirting. Almost.

“I’m a smoothie person,” you finally say. “But there’s no smoothies on the menu.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“But doesn’t it say ‘no customizations’?” 

There’s a sign on the edge of the counter that says just that. Despite the fact that it’s written in beautiful, looping cursive, there’s an ominous tone to the message. Like the little old lady behind the counter might actually make you into tea if you asked for a frappe or something. You’re a little worried for Jaehyun’s safety. He must sense some sort of hesitance because he brushes it off and gestures toward the rest of the shop.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of it, you can go grab us a table.”

The way he says ‘us’ so casually has you tripping slightly over nothing. He’s somehow there in the nick of time to grab at your elbow in a gentlemanly fashion to help steady you. Perhaps you yank yourself out of his proximity a little too quickly. But it’s only because you really want to find a good table and you can’t do that if Jaehyun is distracting you by grabbing at your limbs. 

In actuality, though, the tea shop is fairly vacant. There are a variety of tables with pressed white tablecloths and dainty tiered tea trays housing pastries. You pick one at random and sit down. Part of you really does wish you’d left when Donghyuck did. But the other part is curious to see what Jaehyun’s like when he’s away from his team and truly outside the context you usually find him in. So you compromise and watch as subtly as you can.

He seems fairly similar—all charming smiles and pretty hair while approaching the counter to talk with the lady you assume is the owner of the shop. She looks stern as she polishes some dainty bone china, but brightens when he comes to the counter. You watch in quiet awe as she reaches a hand up to pat fondly at the side of his face, most likely pinching a cheek from the angle you’re sitting at. You see him run a hand over the back of his neck which grows red after he says something to her that she must not like. Her brow grows heavy and her lips purse but he says something else then that has her directing her sharp gaze at you. You gulp and pretend you were merely admiring the tea sandwich tray on the table as opposed to spying. A wave of sudden embarrassment comes over you and you open up your phone to text Donghyuck

You (15:38) - this is a shit apology just so u know

You (15:38) - come get me plz

Hyuck (15:40) - sorry suddenly cant read dont know what that says :)

You place your phone face down onto the table and cross your arms with a huff. While trying to plan an escape that makes you look the least asshole-y possible, Jaehyun returns with the drinks. More specifically, he returns with a tall water glass in one hand that’s filled with a pale tea with fruit chunks and mint leaves sprinkled throughout. The other hand is encased in a floral appliqué oven mitt that holds the prettiest squat little teapot you’ve ever seen. It’s blue, so it doesn’t match the pastel green teacups organized on the tablecloth, but it’s still a lovely sight.

“What’s this,” you stir at the fruit in the glass with an elegant teaspoon.

“It’s a chilled fruit tea,” he explains while casually pouring himself a steaming cup of black tea. “I tried my hardest with Mrs. Li, but there was no way I was gonna get you a smoothie. This is the closest thing I could get.”

“You really didn’t have to go to all that trouble. I would have been fine with just a water. I don’t want to get you in trouble with the owner.”

“Don’t worry. I think my reputation is fine for now.”

It’s weirdly fascinating to watch him fix up his tea. As a member of a basketball team, you would have never thought he’d be a tea drinker. Let alone a tea drinker who takes heaping spoonfuls of sugar to go with a tiny splash of milk in his tea. He hums a little to himself as he stirs it all with a silver spoon that’s been crafted to look like roses are growing up the stem. When he looks up a moment later, he catches you staring at him. His eyes crinkle and they look like they did when he looked at you after shooting a 3 at the latest home game, full of quiet joy. Both then and now you’re not sure what the smile means or why it seems to be for you. You look down and realize his lips are moving.

“What?”

He chuckles at how far away you sound. “I said ‘how’s the tea?’”

“Oh, uh, I don’t know yet. I got distracted. I was...thinking.”

“Mhm.” There’s smugness practically oozing out of his thoughtful hum.

You take a sip to appease him and frantically search for something to say that won’t make it obvious that you aren’t a fan of tea, but then you stop yourself. It’s no smoothie, but it really is the next best thing. The tea is cold like a smoothie, providing the same reprieve from the sticky heat of Spring. The tea with all its macerated berries and mint leaves is sweet and thick much like a smoothie.

“This is amazing,” you peer down at the cup like you’re not sure where half the glass went.

A light weight lands on your shoulder then. “That’s very kind of you, dear. High praise coming from a non-tea-drinker.”

It takes a lot of effort not to scream and even then your eyes open comically wide and you jump in your seat. Jaehyun has to disguise his laughter at your reaction by turning away in his seat as you turn in yours to face the old lady who was at the counter.

“I’m sorry for any trouble you went to so you could make this, Mrs. Li, Ma’am. I told Jaehyun that I wanted a smoothie and he was just trying to make me feel comfortable.”

“Oh, I know. Jaehyun’s been coming to the shop since I opened it, so he should know all about my ban on requests.” Mrs. Li eyes Jaehyun as he takes an innocent sip of his tea. “He’s always been courteous about it, so I thought he must have a darn good reason for breaking my rule this time.”

Jaehyun’s hand slips while pouring a second cup, but he doesn’t say anything as Mrs. Li continues to expose him. 

“Now, that reminds me. Jaehyun, my boy, I’m sorry to tell you that Kevin won’t be coming to his sessions this week. He has a dentist appointment and it can’t be helped,” she sighs and waves her hands.

“That’s alright. As long as he practices a little every day he should be in good shape and we can pick up right where we stopped.”

She nods and for a moment the serious expression on her face morphs into something softer. Patting the back of his chair, she looks over the table and then at you.

“Alright. I hope everything is to your liking, but if something does come up do feel free to tell Jaehyun. He’s a very capable young man and he knows the shop like the back of his hand. I’d better get back to work now. The silver won’t polish itself.”

You wait a few beats to be respectful, but as soon as Mrs. Li returns to her post behind the counter you gulp down the rest of your tea and lean in. 

“Who’s Kevin?”

“Her 9 year old grandson. I teach him and his younger brother piano on the weekends.”

“Oh, that’s—that’s nice,” you nod coolly. At least, you hope it appears cool. Internally you’re scrambling.

Of course your best friend’s basketball teammate teaches piano to young kids. Of course he helps the elderly tea shop lady with her store. Of course he drinks sweet tea out of blue floral teacups. Of course.

He’s finally ready to go after a third cup. You’re not sure where he’s putting it all, but it seems to be a regular occurrence for him. He takes your glass from you before you can argue about your own ability to do it and walks back over to the counter. Now more than ever you wish you could read lips. He goes around the counter to wash the glass in the farmer’s sink in the back and then stops briefly to say something to Mrs. Li. She says something back with a smile that has his cheeks flaming. He leaves a bill on the counter and comes back mumbling about his tea being too hot when you stare at his face. You’re not sure how true that is given how fast he downed those cups.

When you emerge from the tea shop, the sun is shining from a different angle and the temperature has mellowed out.

“My car is a few blocks that way,” he points in the direction of the parking lot nearby. 

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” Even with his soft tone, his voice is firm and you don’t try to fight him on it.

But it’s strange walking with Jaehyun silently. It feels entirely too companionable despite the fact that you don’t even know him. 

“Do you...want to play 20 questions?”

He stops in his tracks, clearly not expecting you to talk without him coaxing you out of your shell. But after the initial shock fades, he nods.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“White,” he says immediately. “What’s your major?”

“Studio art. Do you play other sports?”

“Nah. Is Donghyuck your best friend?”

“Yeah, Hyuck’s my best friend.”

“Is he...protective?”

“Protective? Of what?”

“You, I guess.”

“Hyuck?” You let out a snort because the thought is just hilarious. “On the right day I’m pretty sure he’d sell me to Satan for a fresh order of sweet potato fries.”

“I see,” he purses his lips like he’s in deep thought before returning back to the present moments later. “You get two since I asked two.”

“Do you like it here, now that it’s been a while since you transferred?”

“Yeah,” he looks you in the eyes. “I like it here.”

You swallow a bit too audibly but power through and keep asking questions. It takes nearly half an hour to walk the two and a half blocks leading to the parking lot. Even after that, Jaehyun takes a scenic route back to the main campus. When he pulls up outside your dorm, you’re not sure what to say, but it feels like something should be said. The sun is near setting and he’s haloed by the dying rays as he leans on the steering wheel to make sure you make it inside.

After giving a little awkward nod, you drag yourself out of the cabin of his car. There’s only a few steps left until you reach the door when he calls out. You turn.

“So,” he trails off, drumming his hands on the steering wheel before adjusting the mirror even though he’s in park and no one is coming. “Donghyuck has, like, a million fans.”

“What?”

“I just mean that he’s been on the team for years, he has a fan base. But I’m just a transfer student, so I don’t have that. And, you know, it’s really nice to have someone to cheer for you.” He tests the waters and looks at you hesitantly before continuing. “I still have your poster.”

All you can do is blink as you realize what’s going on. Or, you think you know what’s going on. And it makes zero sense to you, but you have a habit of overthinking things anyway. You kick at a pebble near the toe of your shoe, taking some time to muster up the courage to be presumptuous in a way you’re not used to.

“I can...I can make you another sign. If you want. Or like wear your number.” He grins and in that moment it seems to outshine the fading sun. “So you don’t feel left out.”

“I’d like that.” He starts the car up then, still grinning as he looks down to shift gears and adjust all his mirrors yet again. “Tell Hyuck he doesn’t need to set aside tickets anymore.”

“Okay,” is your witty reply before turning once more with a too warm face.

He waves at your retreating back before putting the car into drive.

Everyone on the team knows that every once in a while Donghyuck likes to come to practice a lot earlier than is probably normal. It’s not strange to come in when there’s 30, 40, even 50 minutes before practice starts and find him practicing footwork or doing layups on the court alone. 

Jaehyun hedges a guess that he’ll find Donghyuck in the gym a good hour before practice starts one day and is pleased to find that his intuition was correct. There’s music blasting from a portable speaker and Donghyuck is doing some of the drills the coach likes to run, but done with his non-dominant hand.

When the ball rolls to a stop and Donghyuck moves to get some water, Jaehyun announces himself.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” 

“You quitting already?”

“Not yet,” Donghyuck takes in the serious set of Jaehyun’s jaw and shoulders. “We can do a 1-on-1. If you’re up for it.”

Jaehyun nods and sheds his outer layers on the sidelines. Donghyck wonders if he’s angry about something, perhaps that about practice a few days ago where he went a little too hard on Jaehyun and bashed his cheek with an elbow during a scrimmage. He braces himself for some incoming aggression, knowing he may deserve it a little.

They settle for leaving the ball on the ground in the paint since the equipment cabinet is still locked until the coach arrives. Both of them sprint from the freethrow line, with Jaehyun grabbing the ball first. Donghyuck moves into defense easily, having been in game mode for who knows how long. Jaehyun isn’t nearly as tough in his offense as Donghyck expected. In fact, he’s playing surprisingly light.

“What’s up with you,” Donghyuck says after the first basket.

Jaehyun catches the ball after it falls from the basket, jogging it back to the starting position. Donghyuck waits for him back at the freethrow line, brows raised but otherwise silent.

“Nothing’s up. Nothing big, I mean.”

“You’re a pretty bad liar.”

The words catch Jaehyun by surprise and he stumbles a bit coming off the line. Donghyuck uses the momentary shock to his advantage and steals the ball. The point comes easy as he basically runs a circle around his competitor.

“Since I won that point, why don’t you tell me what’s really bothering you?”

Donghyuck doesn’t bother going back to the freethrow line and instead goes back to dribbling practice. His rhythm is slow with his off hand, but steady. Better than Jaehyun’s with his off hand.

“Do you believe in bro code?”

Donghyuck snorts. “I guess. You’re not gonna ask me for my mom’s phone number, are you?”

“No. Not your mom’s,” Jaehyun trails off.

Instantly Donghyuck knows what this is about. Or who. Your face flashes in his mind and he has to bite his own cheek to keep from laughing. Being your best friend gives him exclusive access to just how awkward you can be. But the fact that Jaehyun resorted to all this buildup is kind of hilarious.

“Aw, you guys are cute.”

“What?” Jaehyun’s cheeks grow pink. “Why is this cute?” 

“Look, you don’t need to ask me first or do whatever this is. I’m not her keeper. And I’m not gonna sabotage you, either.” Jaehyun’s shoulders lose some of their squared off edge.

“Okay,” he nods. “Thanks, man.”

“I could use a favor, though.”

“Oh. What is it?”

“I have a meeting with Coach after practice today. But I also really need to pick something up at the stationery store before tomorrow. Can you go pick it up for me?”

“Sure, I guess.”

“Cool. I’ll text you the details later.”

---

Jaehyun arrives at the stationery store with his phone in hand. The note from Donghyuck mentions some special set of paints with a foreign-sounding name. As he walks through the aisles of the little store, Jaehyun wonders who the paints are for. The note also mentioned that they were a gift for someone, but it doesn’t say who the someone is.

It takes a few laps around the store, and by the time he spots the little nook for the brand, the store owner's voice had already sounded through the overhead speakers to say that the shop would be closing soon. He grabs the last box left and quietly rejoices. Donghyuck had bartered your number for the price of running the errand. If Jaehyun could get the paints, then he could get the number. The odd part was that Donghyuck had mentioned something about Jaehyun possibly not even needing to ask him for the number if he played his cards right. Originally he had shrugged the comment off, but it did raise the hairs on the back of his neck a bit. There’s something about Donghyuck that feels akin to a cartoon villain, but Jaehyun can’t put his finger on it.

“Checking out?”

“Yeah,” he hands the shop attendant the container of paints.

The attendant tries to scan the barcode, but a strange sound comes from the machine.

“I think something’s wrong with the barcode. If you can wait right here, I’ll go get another one to scan and give you that one instead.”

“Oh. That was actually the last one left.”

“I see.” The attendant presses some keys on the computer before nodding. “I think we should have a reference code in that backroom. I can go get that and punch it in manually if that’s okay.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, that would be great.”

The attendant assures him it’ll only be a moment before leaving the counter and disappearing into the back of the store. Jaehyun waits patiently while leaning on the counter when the bell to the front door of the shop rings. Another customer has come in right before closing, and the sound of their labored breathing makes it clear that they know they’re cutting it close. The footsteps fade out and then grow louder once more after a few minutes. He takes a glance over his shoulder to see you standing a little bit behind him.

“Oh. Hi. H-hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” Jaehyun turns completely and sets his phone on the counter. “What brings you here?”

“I’m just grabbing some paint. I ran out a few days ago and I have some big projects coming up.”

“That’s funny. I’m doing the same thing.”

“Do you paint,” your eyes grow a little bigger with the prospect. At the sight of your small smile, Jaehyun wishes he could paint for the first time ever.

“No, but I’d like to learn.” And it’s never been true before, but he means it in that moment.

“Well, I could—”

“Sorry for the delay,” the shop attendant comes jogging back from the backroom. “Another employee had the reference book, so I had to spend some time to hunt it down. But you should be all set now.”

Jaehyun sends an apologetic smile your way before turning back to finish checking out. Once he’s done, even though he’s on a tight schedule with this favor, he hangs back.

“—I’m sorry but we sold out of the Neo Color Technology paints. If you’d like, we can give you a call when the next shipment comes in, but there’s a two-week wait.”

“Ah, really? Okay.” 

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek as you think about what you’ll do now. The idea of continuing some of your projects with a new set of paints that could have a completely different set of hues makes you nervous. You just perfected the shade of green you needed at the base for your huge forest study. Now you’d have to start from scratch.

Jaehyun is trying his hardest not to eavesdrop, but the odd paint name catches his attention. It’s the same one he just bought, per Donghyuck’s request.

“You can have mine,” he blurts out. “I’m the one who bought the last ones. But I obviously don’t need them like you do.”

“Are you sure?”

“Please, take them.”

Jaehyun hands you the bag. The smile you offer him in return is brilliant.

“I’ll pay you back.”

“God, no. Don’t worry about it.”

“Then, let me buy you a tea or something at least.” You hand him your phone. “Here, put your number in and you can pick a day. I’ll pay.”

So Jaehyun takes your phone and inputs his number. A moment later he gets a text from you, clarifying that it’s you. He feels victorious for a moment and then confused. Here he is, getting your number without having to ask, just like Donghyuck himself had mentioned. He’s getting this number because he gave you, Donghyuck’s friend, some paints. Paints that Donghyuck asked him to buy, as a gift to a mysterious friend. 

Maybe Donghyuck is less like a villain and more like a twisted fairy godmother.  

This little dance you keep doing with Jaehyun is strange, to say the least. 

It felt odd to copy the number 14 onto your cheek for the first time knowing who it would really be for. And it felt weird to get so used to doing it that you can now copy the stencil in with practiced ease using the face paint you bought specifically for the occasion, no longer worrying about accidentally writing it backwards. All the while, you can barely make eye contact with him after a game, although you can practically feel the weight of his gaze when you make a beeline for Donghyuck after the last buzzer rings. And you can see the way his hand tugs at the gold chain around his neck as he approaches you cautiously. And you can hear the disappointment in his tone when he asks if you’re going to the house parties thrown by one of the players that typically follow the games only to hear you say no each time.

Another few weeks later finds you trying to make it through midterms. Donghyuck being a literature major means his midterms schedule is always different from yours. This time his midterms end much earlier, a few days earlier to be exact. You’re left to suffer through late night crunches to finish up paintings for one of your crits. Photoshopping some pieces for your digital art class leaves you so busy you don’t even register what’s going on around you.

“It’s my turn to host the post-game party,” he says after letting himself into your apartment one day. He drops the spare keyring reserved for him in the dish near the front door.

“Mhm.”

“But I feel like it would be a nice change to have it here.” When he makes a big show of dropping the takeout he brought you, you don’t even flinch at the sound of it hitting the table you’ve taken over.

“Sounds good,” is all you say as you try to find the one layer out of the 25 you had that you were looking for.

“Great, so I’ll probably stop by on Friday with stuff before the game to set up and then the team can just come through afterwards.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t hate me,” he places a kiss on the top of your head before wrinkling his nose when he smells your unwashed hair. “And don’t work yourself too hard, either.”

“Yeah...definitely.”

Friday comes by and you’re still working, so you have to skip the actual game itself. In the brief window of free time you had that morning, you wonder if you should text Jaehyun again so you can tell him you won’t be coming or bringing your little hand stenciled 14. But you decide against it. It’s a big game and he doesn’t need to be bogged down by unnecessary texts.

You’re actually away at your first crit when Donghyuck stops by again, this time with party supplies. When you come back, you barely register the mountain of beers and cheap wines sitting in your kitchen. All you want to do is sleep like the dead for a few hours. As you zombie walk to your room, you swear you hear him call to you to ask if he can store his balloons in the sink. With your last two brain cells you figure he must have said something else and you were just too tired to actually comprehend it.

Hours later, bass blaring through the thin walls of your place wakes you from your slumber. The details of your conversation with Donghyuck a few days prior come flooding back just as you pick up your pepper spray to drive out what you thought were home intruders. You leave your weapon behind and open your door just slightly. The music washes over you, louder now that the seal to your bedroom has been broken. 

There’s plenty of voices coming outside that accompany the music. Even a few errant screams make it inside and to your ears. Courtesy of Chenle, no doubt. A few more brave steps outside your room and a glance out of the hallway window lets you know that you didn’t mishear Donghyuck. You see several of the guys chucking water balloons at one another on the grass outside. The pile of little teardrop-shaped balloons is admirably large and it becomes clear that they’ll be doing this for a while.

You’re not in the mood to get soaked or get mosquito bites just so you can seem friendly. After all, the party is being hosted in your apartment complex. That’s friendly enough, you reason. Once you’ve done a quick sweep through the rest of the apartment to make sure nothing is stolen, stained, or broken, you return to your room to get ready for bed properly. It takes a while because you have to wash your hair on top of everything else after receiving a very strongly worded text from Donghyuck.

While in your bathroom, brushing your teeth and watching a video Taeyong sent you, there’s jumbled knocking on your door. Barely any time passes between the last knock and the creak of someone leaning on your door as they open it. You curse to yourself before spitting in the sink.

“Hey, the bathroom for guests is actually—”

Jaehyun stands in the middle of your room, squinting at the tapestry you have hanging over your bed. The sound of his teeth chattering despite it being the peak of Spring is actually alarming enough to stop you from being mad that Donghuck didn’t think to put a clear sign towards the bathroom for the general public.

“I always thought your room would have candles in it,” Jaehyun drawls. He looks around once more like he’s hoping a candle will jump out of a hiding spot. All his movements are slow and sleepy.

“Are you drunk?”

He grins with eyes that droop closed. “Yep.” 

“Great,” you mumble. When you take a step closer you realize the dark red sleeveless tank he’s wearing is actually dark from being saturated with water. “Why are you wet?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. We played water balloon tag. I lost the last round.”

Jaehyun places a clumsy finger to his lips and stage-whispers a loud “shh”. For some reason you mirror that back to him. He nods, satisfied with your reaction.

“Don’t tell the others, but I...” he hiccups “I got cold, so I came inside.”

“What’s wrong with telling them you’re cold.” He hangs his head in shame then. Clearly you’re missing something important.

“Hyuck says bad bitches never get cold.”

With his shoulders slumped forward in such a pitiful fashion, you actually feel bad for wanting to laugh. It’s surprising. Super surprising actually, considering Jaehyun’s presence in your room means Donghyuck forgot to do the one thing you ask of him when he hosts parties at your place—put clear signs for drunk people to follow to the guest bathroom. You usually don’t want to deal with drunk student athletes, but something about Jaehyun makes him exempt from that.

“You can warm up here.”

As soon as you say the words, you cringe. It sounds like the awful beginnings of a bad porno, but your intentions really are pure. There’s something too sad about watching him nearly doze off while standing up like a newborn colt. So you go and find the best hoodie that you have in your clean laundry and you risk going to the kitchen and getting hit with a runaway water balloon so you can put water on for tea. Hopefully it will warm him up while also sobering him up a little.

“Is this Hyuck’s shirt,” he asks as soon as you return with a steaming mug.

“Uh, I think so.” You take a moment to appraise the hoodie. “Yeah, it’s his. It’s from one of his basketball camps from when we were younger, I think.”

He purses his lips but gratefully takes the mug with swaying hands. After taking a large sip, he hums and lets his head loll back with a smile.

“This is Mrs. Li’s blend.”

“Yeah.” 

It doesn’t seem right to tell him that you’ve been back there a couple times now and have started trying to get into tea. You take the time to put some distance between him and you. You walk to your bed and fluff a pillow that doesn’t need fluffing. The thing is that Jaehyun being in your room feels...weird. He looks all too content and comfortable in the space. That’s not to say he doesn’t suit the environment well. Somehow he looks like he belongs in your room with his soaked tank top and damp hair. You fluff the pillow harder.

“You must be tired,” he says after a long silence. He’s finished his tea but his eyes are still glassy.

“What?”

“Donghyuck told me ‘bout all your projects. Told me you had to draw him for one.”

“Oh, yeah I did. People actually loved that piece the most. But it took me the shortest amount of time.”

“Next time,” he begins ambling across the room, coming to place the empty mug on your bedside table. “Next time, you can ask me to model. If you want.”

“I mean, I only asked Hyuck since he was watching TV and he was there. Plus I know his face so well that it doesn’t even matter if he talks while I paint. The company is kind of nice.”

“Well, you can do it with me next.”

He’s drunk, you remind yourself. He doesn’t realize how strange what he’s saying is. And yet, your face still heats up. The sound of his teeth chattering lightly again reminds you how he got to be in your room in the first place. Jaehyun hugs himself as he continues to check out your room with a small smile on his face. He looks content.

“Do you want to get in,” you offer before your brain can process what your mouth has just done. His eyes go wide.

“Excuse me?” 

“Not—I mean, you just...look really cold and tired. Plus I heard you guys lost the game tonight, so the coach had you hauling ass after.” At the sight of his mildly amused face, tongue nudged between his teeth you add, “I don’t mean you should stay the night. It could just be for a bit and then you could, like, get up and call a cab home. But I get it if you’d rather not. Actually, I can just go see if Hyuck is around. I think he brought his—”

“No, no, stay,” he replies quickly to keep you from jumping out of bed. “I could use the rest.”

He turns around to shrug off the wet tank and pull on the hoodie, mumbling something about ‘not wanting to get your sheets wet’. Internally you wonder if you’re being laughed at by the gods while staring politely at nothing in the other corner of the room. You scoot over from your position in the middle of the bed to the side opposite him. He rewards your kindness with a flash of a bright smile before moving to pull back the covers.

His face lands directly in one of your pillows and you panic when you realize your sheets aren’t fresh out the washer. Jaehyun doesn’t seem to mind and lets out a sigh before shivering a little. With the hood over his hair, you can barely make out his eyes but you can tell they’re trained on you.

“You sure this is okay,” he whispers. 

“Yeah.”

The bed shifts minutely as he turns a little to get more comfortable. It feels hot in the bed all of the sudden. Despite the fact that you have on weather appropriate pajamas and your most lightweight Spring bedding on. Despite the fact that you’re not laying close enough to him to be able to feel any body heat. Maybe it’s warmer outside than you thought. That’s probably it.

---

When you wake up several hours later, it’s to the sound of clanking in your living room. The other side of the bed is empty and you try not to read into it. It wasn’t supposed to be a full night over, after all. You swing your feet over the edge of the bed only to squeal when your foot hits something cold in the little rug you keep there.

“What is it!” Donghyuck crashes into the room while holding the trash bag he was collecting loose beer cans with. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just—oh.”

You look down at the rug and see something shiny and metallic as opposed to something wet and slimy. With your index finger and thumb, you pick up a medium length golden chain. It shines even in the low lighting of your bedroom. You both squint at the jewelry, trying to place it.

Donghyuck’s eye grow wide and he looks around the room in disgust suddenly.

“Was he in here?”

“Uh, yeah,” you grumble as you rub your eyes.

“What for?”

When Donghyuck raises an inquisitive eyebrow, your mouth drops open.

“We just slept—”

“You slept together?”

“Hyuck, not like that! What’s your problem?”

“Still, why is he sleeping in here? You never have guys sleep in here.”

“You sleep in here all the time,” you point a finger at him.

“True,” he cedes immediately, pointing a finger back. “Well, you better return that. I think it’s his lucky charm or something.”

“Can’t you do it?” He laughs before returning to the living room. 

“He didn’t leave it in my bed.” 

“I–fine. I don’t need your help anyway.” 

At that, he snorts.

“You do, but I’ll let you keep thinking that you don’t, because I’m a good friend.”

“You’re annoying, that’s what you are.”

You pull on a sweater before coming out of your room with your phone in hand. There’s a companionable silence that falls over you two as you attempt to draft a text to Jaehyun about his chain while Donghyuck picks up the remaining trash from the party.

“How’d everything go,” you ask once the message is sent.

“It was fine. Jae was so gone that we thought he had flushed himself down the toilet for a while. But I guess that’s not what happened.”

Your face heats up at the teasing tone he uses.

“Hyuck, I have something to tell you.”

“God, what? Are you pregnant?”

“No! What the hell? Are you?” You try to swipe at his butt from the back of the couch.

“No! But...can you just say what you’re gonna say? You’re making me nervous.”

He even goes so far as to put the trash down and come around to sit with you on the sofa. You take a deep breath.

“I have a crush on Jaehyun. I just thought you should know.”

He stares at you, not blinking for a few seconds. He opens his mouth and then shakes his head to himself and closes it again.

“I see,” he finally says.

“It’s been going on a while, and I didn’t want to leave you in the dark.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Nope! I don’t mind being in the shadows. I do some of my best work there.”

“Do you think it could go anywhere?”

“What do you mean,” he throws another can into his bag.

“Like, do you think I have a chance with him?”

Donghyuck turns to stare at you, deadpan. “Do I think you have a chance with Jung Jaehyun? The man who slept in your bed a few hours ago?”

“Yeah.” Your face is completely open and imploring.

He sighs, “I think you might have a shot, sure.”

“Why, though?”

“I don’t know. Just a hunch.”

The next game of the season is a big one. The team coming in to play is an old school rival, so it draws a crowd that contains even the less sport-inclined students. You manage to get a ticket set away, but it’s still tough trying to find a spot to sit. It’s first come first serve with seats since the gym isn’t big enough to have labeled arena seating. 

Initially you had planned to use the extra time you had before the start to return Jaehyun’s chain, but it took you so long to make it from the parking lot to the gym and then to an open seat that there wasn’t any time left. Somewhere in between, you nearly get knocked over by the heavy current of fans from both teams flooding the space. The chain, once clutched in your hand, ends up around your neck out of fear that you lose it permanently.

You end up in the nosebleeds for the rest of the time. The players look like ants and if it weren’t for the large printed numbers on their jerseys, you might not be able to tell all of them apart. You text Donghyuck your location, and you see him looking towards the back rows at the beginning of the game, but he has to stay focused. You try your hardest to focus as well. At this point, you’re just about fluent in the sport that is basketball. But tonight’s game is hard to follow despite this. Jaehyun grabs your attention instead. He plays especially rough tonight, you note. He pushes hard across the court, even gets a couple warnings for defending like he’s on offense. There’s a fair amount of goals with his name on them as well. It’s exciting and you just wish your cheers could reach him.

More annoyance comes when the game finally ends. It’s a last minute shot by one of the other players who walked on this season that tips the game in your school’s favor. The crowd is deafening, even the ending buzzer is muted by their shouts. The bleachers shake under you with the force of fans running to meet their favorite players and generally gloat in front of the other team on the court. The shaking underneath you is terrifying enough to keep you seated until things have died down. There’s still probably a minimum of hundred people gathered on the floor, but you can at least step over empty concession bags as opposed to being stepped on by the supportive members of the hockey team.

It takes forever to find a single person you know. Of course it’s Donghyuck, who is in the middle of talking with some friends from off the team.

“Hyuck,” you begin to run over. When he sees you, you give him a big smile.

“No,” he responds simply as you get closer.

You slow down and let confusion wrinkle your brow. He offers no further verbal explanation but does give you a swift head nod in another direction. You follow the gesture and find Jaehyun at the end of the path. He looks a bit lost despite being with Doyoung and Johnny.

The fact that the others are there makes you freeze up at first, but the feeling of the chain laying delicately on your clavicle reminds you of what you need to do. Luckily, he sees you before the others do and he steps aside under the guise of getting a fresh towel. He waits for you to catch up once he’s out of their line of sight.

His voice is low, like he’s worried being too loud will make you change your mind about talking with him. But there’s an undercurrent of sincere happiness.

“There you are.”

“I was at the top row. I got here too late to sit where I normally do.”

“Ah. I thought maybe you couldn’t make it.”

“There’s no way I would be able to miss this one. Hyuck threatened to shave my head if I did.”

“That...sounds like him.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle. The nerves are getting to you a bit. You’ve never confessed your feelings to anyone before, and you’re not sure if Donghyuck was right about you having a shot.

“So, what are you doing—”

“I’ve been meaning to tell—”

You both start talking at once and then immediately clam up when you interrupt each other. 

He gives the floor to you. “You go first.”

“Okay.” 

You reach for the back of your neck and watch as his gaze follows the movement of your hands only for his eyes to light up in recognition.

“I wondered where that thing went.”

“You left it at my place. I put it on because I was scared I’d lose it for real. Sorry.”

He reaches out casually to thumb at the chain around your neck. “Don’t be. It looks good on you.”

“It looks better on you.”

The chain slides off cool against your skin and your fingers shake as you carry the chain over to him. Wordlessly, you reach up and loop your arms around his neck to reunite the chain with its rightful owner. Sweaty palms make it difficult to redo the clasp without being able to see it. It puts you right in his personal space for an awkwardly long time.

“I’m really sweaty,” he whispers.

“Uh, that’s nice?”

He laughs and it puffs off your temple.

“I don’t want to get you dirty, but I really want to kiss you right now.” The clasp finally snaps into place

“Oh.”

The way he leans in, the way his arms come to cage around your waist, the drip of the sweat from his temple down the hinge of his jaw. All of it is slow. As if to give you the space to withdraw if you wanted. But you surge forward into him. And for once it’s not awkward. You don’t know how long you stand there necking like hormonal high schoolers in a sea of people on the gym floor at a school dance, but—just like at the school dance—someone is bursting the gossamer thin ambiance just when Jaehyun’s fingers graze the back pocket of your jeans.

“If you look to your left, boys and girls, you can see two local horndogs engaged in a seasonal ritual” He karate chops a hand down the space between your faces, cutting the kiss off abruptly and nearly bruising Jaehyun’s nose. Meanwhile Taeyong snickers loudly from behind Doyoung.

“Do you have a death wish,” you turn to him with fire in your eyes. He backs up slightly, but attempts to stand his ground.

“Do you know how hard I’ve been working to set you two up?”

“What are you talking about?”

You turn to Jaehyun, who looks just as confused. The gears turning in your heads are practically visible as you and he put 2 and 2 together slowly. The random lies, the weird errands, the sudden party. The blank stares from Donghyuck every time the two of you were in the same room but refused to talk. It all adds up.

“You owe me sweet potato fries for the rest of your life. Maybe longer, I’m not sure yet.”

Donghyuck puts his arms around you and Jaehyun, pulling you with him as he heads out of the gym and towards the exit that leads toward the cafeteria.

“I can’t believe you...puppet-mastered us,” Jaehyun’s voice is airy with disbelief.

“I can’t believe you guys didn’t realize what was going on,” Taeyong snickers on the walk over. Doyoung snorts while lacing their fingers together.

“Yeah, the whole team was in on it.”

“You guys are one to talk.” Donghyuck turns back to give the two boys a humbling once over. “Don’t get me started on how hard it was to get you two losers together.”

Doyoung stops in his tracks, nearly tripping Taeyong in the process. 

“What?”

[dear-evanrosier]

Youtube Star (Muggle AU) (Parts 1-3)

Wednesday

Remus thought it was absolutely hilarious when the kids in his class were talking about the new video that Sirius Black had uploaded the day before, especially when one of them asked if he watched the latest. This specific set of questions had started when Remus had accidentally shown his screen saver- a selfie of him and Sirius, which Remus had taken right after making a corny joke, so Sirius was laughing in the photo- to a student while checking a text from said husband. It had sparked so many rumors that he still got bombarded with questions, and the slip up was over three months ago.

"So, Mr.Lupin did you watch Sirius Black's new video? He uploaded one last night!"

Yeah, I spent three hours helping him edit it and pick out the topic.

"No, I don't watch his content."

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

"Turns out Sirius Black is married! Did you know that?"

Yeah, I was the one who put his ring on.

"Nope, that's very cool. Now do your work."

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

"Did you go to his meet and greet in London last week?"

Yeah, I was backstage for ten hours waiting for him to finish talking to all of you.

"No, I went to the park."

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

He ended up having to change the lock screen so the students wouldn't try to go through his phone. He was just lucky none of his students had noticed the ring on his right finger matched the one shown on accident multiple times in some of Sirius' videos. He knew if the students found out then they would never get any work done, so Sirius agreed to keep it a secret.

That is until one morning Remus frogot his lunch at their house, and he only has twenty minutes to eat but their house is thirty minutes away. He decided to go without it, not wanting to make his students miss the test they had the next class. The period ended and he checked his phone, noticing a text sent almost fourty minutes ago.

Sirius❤-You left your lunch at home, can't have my Moony starving. I'll bring it over there.

He rubbed his face with one hand and listened outside, realizing the hall was louder than usual and there was laughter along with a heavy clacking sound that he knew belonged to the black combat boots of his husband.

"Who's that bag for?" Came from the hall, quite muffled due to the wooden door and chattering students.  He stood up and stretched, and walked over to the door, opening it slowly.

He immediately spotted the thick black curls down to the shoulders, wearing Remus' favorite outfit. Plain black jeans that hugged his legs, a chain dangling from one of the belt loops to the closest pocket, and one of Remus' dark green jumpers over top. The black hem of a band t-shirt just visible under the v-neck. He was also wearing a tad bit of eyeliner, which made Remus think he was even hotter. He was taking pictures with the students lining up in front of Remus' door, waiting for their next lesson with him. At the sound of the door opening, Sirius looked away from the camera and spotted the fluffy sandy colored hair and freckles covering his husband's face. He took the picture, muttered an "Excuse me." and ducked from underneath the outstretched student's hand. He walked past the rest of the line up to Remus, who was blushing terribly and had an eyebrow raised. "Yes, Black?" He inquired, and Sirius snorted.

"That's Lupin-Black to you, love." He replied, and placed a soft kiss on Remus' lips. Remus put a hand on his cheek and let the kiss last a second longer before he pulled away and gestured to the shocked expressions across the students' faces. "You know they had a test today, right?"

Sirius smiled and shook his head. "You did not tell me that. Sorry, love." He kissed Remus again and lifted up his hands, showing a paper bag with 'Moony❤' on the front. Remus rolled his eyes affectionately and took the bag. "Thanks, love." He looked back at the students. "I think you broke them," Remus told Sirius, who also turned around to look at the students' faces.

All of the kids who followed or knew of Sirius had their mouths open almost comically. Sirius let out a bark of laughter and turned back to Remus. "What, did you take your ring off?" Remus shook his head and held up his hand, showing Sirius that he still had on his identical ring. A student gasped and grabbed both of their hands, comparing the rings. "You alright there, Lavander?" Remus asked, and the bell rang. Sirius went to leave but the students wouldn't let him, blocking him from leaving the hall. The students in Remus' class ushered the two into the room, not giving them a chance to leave.

It wasn't that big of a shock that they were gay. Both of them had been public about it, actually. Remus wore little pins with pride flags on his jumpers often and would hand them out if a student asked. And Sirius' video with him coming out had gotten well over 10 million views. It was just the fact that their soft academia teacher who liked books, tea, minimal social contact, wearing oversized jumpers, and poems is married to the complete opposite. A grunge YouTuber who loved coffee, wearing band shirts and chains, adored being in the spotlight, and always had on some form of makeup.

After they had practically forced the door closed and sat in their assigned seats, Remus' couldn't help but chuckle. "I must say, this is the most focused I have seen them all year." Sirius laughed and sat on the edge of the teachers' desk, till Remus lightly pushed him off. He hopped off and eyed Remus. "Ok, where do you suppose I sit then?" He asked, and Remus got a cheeky grin, gesturing to an empty student seat in the front row.  "I am twenty-seven, not fourteen." Sirius scowled but took the seat, the students' eyes following him because Sirius Black, a youtube star, is in our classroom and is now sitting five feet from us.

Remus called their attention to the front of the room, but the students still glanced over a Sirius every few moments. "Ok, if we can get through this lesson, we can spend the last twenty minutes of class questioning my husband and me but only if you take some notes. I'll push your test back to tomorrow." A few of the students clapped, and Sirius did too, earning an eye roll and a shhh from Remus. Sirius chuckled but remained quiet during the class because he knew how much teaching meant to Remus. The kids still stole looks at Sirius whenever they could manage, but he kept his eyes on Remus the entire time, enjoying the sparkle he got whenever Remus did something he loved, not just teaching.

The class was surprisingly focused. Remus expected them to not shut up, but it was the complete opposite. Every eye was on him, but he was avoiding a specific set that normally would not be in there. He knew they were probably turning back to Sirius when he wrote something on the board. He ended up being done with the notes in only twenty minutes, giving them half an hour to question them. "Ok, we're done with notes. You can start asking questions."

The students began immediately. There were so many and they were so loud neither adult could make out the words except for few parts.

"Can-"

"Video-"

"Star-"

"Ring-" And that was basically all they could hear.

Sirius got up from where he was sitting and moved back to the teachers' desk, and didn't get shoved off this time. Instead, Remus came over and sat next to him. While the students were shooting their rapid-fire questions, Sirius turned and whispered in Remus' ear, "How often are they like this?" Remus whispered back, "Only when they talk about you, so I'd say all the time." Sirius just chuckled in response. The kids had stopped asking questions by then, so they were just staring at them while they had their short, whispered conversation. "Ok, since you guys stopped asking questions, please ask one at a time," Remus asked, and the students began the questions, just slower.

"Can you post a video so everyone knows?"

"Is his the voice the one in videos from a different room?"

"Since when did you like youtube stars?"

"How come you never showed us your ring?"

"How long have you been married?"

"Forget that, how long have you been together?"

And a lot more. After they stopped talking again, Remus and Sirius began answering questions.

"We've been together for twelve years, married for eight," Sirius told them, and a couple of kids swore because he started making videos ten years ago and nobody realized that he was married for the majority of that time. "How come you didn't mention it?!" A girl from the back shouted, and Sirius chuckled. The two kept answering questions until they got to the last one. "Are you going to make a video making it public?" One boy asked, and the two adults glanced at each other. "Er, I don't know. It's up to Remus, really." Sirius told them, then checked his watch. He jumped off the desk quickly. "Shit, I have to go. I have that meeting in about ten minutes." He placed a chaste kiss on his lips, then waved to the students. He opened the door, waved one last time to Remus, and left. The students in class turned expectantly to Remus, but they didn't get a chance to speak because the bell rang. It was the end of the day since it was an early let out.

A few of the kids in the school who drove managed to get pictures of Sirius on his motorbike, waving at them before he sped off, none of them knowing what he was doing there.

When Sirius got home two hours later, Remus was sitting on the couch, reading a book. After a small discussion, they went to bed, excited for the next day.

Friday

"Quiet down! Quiet down, everyone!" Remus began the class, attempting to call attention to the rowdy group of kids. After they all stopped talking, Remus began his speech. "Since you, all got great marks yesterday, you can have a free day today. Do whatever you like, just stay in your seats and please remain quiet." He sat down at his desk, leaving the students to their own devices. A girl stood up and walked to the front of the room where Remus's desk was. He looked up when she was standing next to him.

"Can I help you, Lavander?" He asked, and she smiled. "Actually, professor, I was hoping I could play a video on your computer?" She asked. Remus, who already knew what video she wanted to play, agreed. She searched up the video titled 'Introducing... My Amazing Husband!' and paused it before it started, turning back to the class. "Have any of you seen this yet?" She asked, and everybody shook their heads. "Good."  She pressed play and sat down, every eye on the projected screen.

Sirius was in his normal chair, his hair in a bun and wearing an oversized jumper and multiple rings on his fingers, giving a mixed vibe. "Ok. It's on. Hi guys! So yesterday, I went to visit my husband at work so I could drop off the lunch he forgot. He does that often."

"No, I don't!" A muffled voice came from behind the closed door, and Sirius snickered and swiveled his chair to face the door as he cupped a hand over his mouth. "Whatever you say, Moony!" He called back before turning his chair again to look at the camera.

"Anyways, I brought him his lunch and his students found out. So when I got home from a meeting later that night, we talked a little. And did more."

"Sirius!" Another muffled shout. Sirius just laughed in response. "Ok, ok! But my dear husband has decided that he is okay with everyone knowing who he is. So, will you come in here, love?"

The door opened to reveal Remus, standing in plaid pajama pants and cropped band shirt hanging just above the waistband of his pants. Sirius eyed him as he came into the room, sitting in Sirius' lap.

"Did you really have to wear my crop top? You know it distracts me." Sirius told him, wrapping his arms around Remus' waist. "Yes. Yes, I did. It's payback for when you wore it and you knew I had to grade papers." Remus responded, and Sirius let out a short bark of laughter. "Fine."

He looked at the camera again, gesturing to the man in his lap. "So, this is my husband. And I wanted to show some videos of a younger us, which Remus has agreed to show. Isn't that right, dear?" Remus nodded and Sirius pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "Please be warned that there is some blood in a couple of these videos, I just figured I should tell you in case that stuff freaks you out," Sirius explained.

The footage changed, showing the two as teens, seventeen at the oldest. It was light out and looked to be around summertime. Both were only wearing swimming shorts. Sirius' were dark green and Remus' was a light blue. There was a large tattoo of the star constellation, Sirius, over his heart and the alchemy symbol for water on his right bicep. Remus had phases of the moon tatted on the inside of his right forearm.  They were standing on a roof, the footage shot from the ground. "Jump! Jump, Sirius, jump!" The cameraman yelled, and Sirius nodded enthusiastically while tying his long hair into a bun using the scrunchie on his wrist.

"Of course! You know I always will!" Remus grabbed his hand as soon as he let go of his hair, yelling back. "Absolutely not, James! I don't care if it's onto a trampoline, he will not be jumping off a roof! Peter didn't, so neither will he." Sirius gave a mischievous glance towards the camera then back to Remus, whose eyes widened.

He quickly tried to free his grasp, but Sirius clenched his hand tightly. "No, no no! Sirius Black, I swear on Merlin's saggy tits if you-" his promise was cut short by his own screaming. Sirius ran off the roof at a sprint, dragging Remus with him. The camera followed them as best as possible considering how fast they were falling.

Their hands broke free when they landed, and Sirius bounced away, almost falling off the edge of the trampoline had he not grabbed the metal. He climbed back over and jumped over to Remus, who was laying on his back in the middle. He rolled over him, pushing himself up by his legs and arms overtop of Remus. "Ok there, Rem?" He asked, and Remus huffed, staring away from Sirius.

"No! You could have bloody well killed me!" Sirius laughed and shook his head. "No, I couldn't have. It's barely a ten-foot jump. You've done worse." Remus huffed again and crossed his arms to the best of his ability since Sirius was still hovering over him. Sirius changed his position, moving his legs so he was basically sitting on top of Remus. He used one hand to cup Remus' cheek and force him to look him in the face. "You fell for me." Remus smiled slightly and cupped Sirius' cheek back. "Why, I suppose I did. But that didn't have a bad consequence, so I don't really see how that's worse." Sirius ignored the last bit and brought his face down to Remus' kissing him, who eagerly kissed back. A boy with brown hair jumped over them, causing them to bounce away from each other, and Remus really did fall off the edge.  

Sirius got over there as fast as possible, jumping off the trampoline. James followed him on the ground. Sirius was helping up Remus, who was holding his face with a hand. It looked like he had hit his face into a nearby lawn chair, which had blood on the leg. "Please, let me see." Sirius pleaded with him, and Remus winced as he pulled his hand away, exposing the wound. The large gash went from his left jaw diagonally up to the bridge of his nose. It was an angry red but the color was almost purple around the edges and bled freely.

"Peter! Get the car! We have to go to the hospital!" Sirius called, and Remus put the hand back over his face. The boy with light brown hair ran past the camera to the cars, apologizing over and over. And the camera changed scenes.

Now it was dark out, the stars lighting up the night sky along with fairy lights strung up. The people there were dressed in fancy dresses or long-sleeved collared shirts and slacks. One woman had red hair tied into an elegant bun, adorned with pins that sparkled, had on a wedding dress that was to the floor and flowy. The bodice was covered in jewels that shone when the light reflected off of them. She was dancing with an eighteen-year-old Sirius.

"You really do look beautiful, Lily," Sirius told her before spinning her around and dipping her. She giggled and replied with a "And so do you, Sirius." They kept dancing for a moment until Lily looked away and then quickly turned back to him. "So?" She asked, and Sirius raised an eyebrow. "So what?"

Lily rolled her eyes and gestured to two guys dancing, one in a tux and one wearing black slacks a light blue collared shirt. The one in a tux had glasses and unruly black hair that looked like it had a bad attempt at flattening it. The man in the blue shirt had a large scar across his cheek from his jaw to his nose and freckles covering his face. His soft honey-colored hair was fluffy and hanging over his face. They seemed to be laughing and having fun as they spun each other around. "When are you going to propose to Remus?" She asked, and Sirius stopped for a moment before he continued the small patterned dance.

"How did you know about that?" It was in a hushed tone, but the camera still picked it up. "I was in your flat getting the planner that James left, and I found it when I looked in the couch cushions. Turned out the book was under your bed." She was practically laughing as she told him, purely because of the shocked face. "Besides, it's not like it's a big secret, anyway. You give him this look every time you see him, and he does the same. I'm surprised he hasn't proposed to you yet." Sirius contemplated her words for a moment and offered a small smile. "Thanks, Lils. Oh! I think James wants to dance with you." He nodded his head behind her at the man with black hair.

He held out his hand to Lily and bowed. "Can I have this dance, my dear wife?" Lily giggled and freed herself from Sirius' arms, taking his hand. "Why you can, my dear husband." James chuckled and led her away from Sirius. Remus took her spot, resting his head on Sirus' shoulder as Sirius put both hands on Remus' waist. "Hello, love. Enjoying the wedding?" Sirius asked, and Remus shrugged.

"No matter how many times James said he would marry her, I never actually thought it would happen," Remus spoke freely, and Sirius laughed at the bluntness. "I don't blame you. It took him six years for a date, and I was worried he would screw something up at one point." Sirius responded, then caught sight of the camera on them, and his eyes widened. He murmured something to Remus and let go, walking to the camera.

"Peter! How much did you get?" Sirius asked, staring straight at them. "Almost all of your dance with Lily." The person behind the camera responded, and Sirius groaned and ran a hand through his hair, glancing back at Remus. "Please don't show this to Remus, I don't know when I'm going to do it, and I definitely don't want Remus to find out because you showed him this video." Peter spoke again, "Of course not, Sirius. I wouldn't want to ruin your plan."  "Thanks, Petey." Sirius flashed a grateful smile then walked back to Remus, spinning him around twice before dipping him and kissing him madly.

The screen changed again, showing young kids all wearing black shorts and white t-shirts, holding water guns. It looked like James, Lily, Peter, Remus, and Sirius in a line, in that order. They looked to be about fifteen and were standing in a large grassy field, a large stone manor off to the side. "Mum, are you recording?" A young James asked and someone out of shot responded. "Yes, hun. Am I going to be recording this entire thing?" James nodded eagerly and started talking. "Ok, I don't know if this will ever be put somewhere public, but we're recording this because we want to. Maybe we can show our future kids. Eh, Evans?" He turned to the redhead next to him and she sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Really, Potter? I'm only here for Remus, and that's cause he's almost my brother. I am not here for your terrible attempts to get a date." She huffed and moved in between Remus and Peter to escape James. "Alright, I'll leave you alone. But anyway, it is our dear Remus' birthday and being the genius that he is, came up with the best idea for us to do. Tie-dye war!" He held the water gun above his head, the dark liquid sloshing around inside.

"All of our water guns are filled with a different tie-dye color. So we are going to put these goggles on so we don't get any in our eyes- Sirius will you get the goggles?" Sirius walked off-screen, coming back a moment later and passing out the goggles.  He returned to his spot in line and snapped his own pair on. "So. How this works is we just shoot each other until everyone is colored. The person at the end of the game who has the whitest shirt gets to give each one of us a dare later tonight when it gets dark and we set up a fire. Does everyone agree?" James looked down the line and got smiles and nods from everyone. "Ok, then. Mum, on the count of three?" He looked toward the camera as he said it, and the woman behind it immediately started the countdown.

"Three... Two... One... GO!!"

All of them took off, running in different directions trying to hide. Remus, before taking off, managed to shoot each of them with a long stripe down their backs, so that if they stood in a line you could see it. He ran to the side, hiding behind a large tree out so the camera didn't see him. There was a loud shriek, however. Remus ran out from behind the tree, Sirius following right behind him, shooting him with the gun so his back had turned into splatters of navy blue. Remus ran behind a large rock, out of Sirius' view. So he turned his attention to Lily, who was standing near a mound of wildflowers. Her eyes widened almost comically wide, and Sirius aimed for her shirt.

As he shot the dye, Lily was shoved out of the way by James, "Noooooooo." whose front was now almost completely blue as he laid in the grass. Lily knelt down beside him. "Why are you so dramatic?" She placed a kiss on his cheek then ran off, leaving him to be attacked by Remus, who had now left his place from behind the rock to take his turn at the sitting duck. No one noticed Peter and Lily from behind the trees, sneaking up on the group. Then they yelled, "CHARGE!!" and everything was fair game. Hot pink and navy blue and dark green and pastel blue and mint green were flying through the air, all of the colors landing on the others. Well, on most of the others. When the game was finished, Remus had won with his shirt only partly covered in color, the majority of his front was white. The others were completely covered in a mix of colors, hardly any white spots.

They stood back in the line, eyeing Remus with jealousy as James' mother declared him the winner.

TW: Mentions of Child abuse, blood

It was dark again, and they all had blankets wrapped around them, huddling in front of a fire. The camera shifted a bit then was still. "James, honey. I'm going inside to make sure dinner is done, your father will be home soon. The camera is set up in that chair so it can see you all. Don't do anything too reckless." The woman's voice was back. James smiled and looked above the camera. "Thanks, mum. I love you." "Love you too, James."

"OK, since I won, I get to give you each dares!" Remus bounced to his feet and the others groaned. "Should have known you were going to win, mate. You're too smart for your own good." Remus chuckled at Peter's remark and walked around the circle, eyeing them as he passed. He stopped in between Lily and James, smirking at them. Lily's smile dropped. "Remus Lupin I swear to Merlin if you do what I think you're going to do-"

"Oh, don't worry Lily. This is in your favor. Kind of." He waved her off with his hand. "Lily, I dare you to kiss James." Lily looked shocked, and James was elated. She stuttered, and Remus bent down to whisper something in her ear. He stood back up and smiled, but Lily only returned a glare. "Fine. I'll do it." She stood up and took a step closer to James, pecked his lips for less than five seconds, and sat back down. James had a large grin on his face, as did Remus.

"Ok, James. Your turn. I dare you to not ask Lily out for two months." James' grin fell and Sirius roared with laughter at his face. James glared at Remus and huffed. "Ok, then. Only cause it's your birthday. And cause it's getting a little old." Remus' grin spread and he walked back to Peter. "I know you don't like anybody, so I'm giving you something different. Jump off the tree. The small one, of course. I don't want you getting hurt." Remus motioned to the short tree next to them, and Peter stood up, dropping the blanket on the ground where he was.

He walked over slowly, climbing up as high as he could, which was only about four feet off the ground since it was a small tree. "You'll be fine, Petey!" Sirius called at his hesitation, and he yelled back, "Ok!" before jumping off. He rolled once he reached the ground, spinning once or twice before he stopped, sitting on his knees. He held his head for a moment before staggering up and back to his spot on the ground. Sirius clapped him on the back and looked to Remus, who sat beside him.

"Ok, Remmy boy. What's my dare?" Sirius asked, and Remus put a  hand on his chin in mock contemplation. "Kiss me." It was clear what he said, but Sirius still exclaimed in shock. "What?" Remus stumbled over his words at the reaction but stopped the moment Sirius grabbed the top of his shirt and smashed their mouths together roughly, getting catcalls and wolf whistles from the other three. Sirius pulled apart, breathing heavily and still holding onto his shirt.  "Was that a good dare?" Remus asked, and Sirius responded by kissing him again.

The footage changed once again. The room was filled with candles and it looked romantic. Sirius was standing in a white button-down and black slacks, his hair neatly parted. "Remus, can you come in here for a moment, love?" Sirius called, and a voice came from behind the door. "Just a minute, Siri! I'm making dinner!"

"This is more important than dinner!"

"Fine, fine!"

Remus came into the room, wearing just a jumper and jeans. He looked around at the candles, breathless. "Holy shit, Pads. This is amazing." He stepped forward cautiously, making sure to not knock any over. He looked Sirius up and down before practically jumping on him and kissing him madly. After a moment he put his feet back on the floor, still holding onto Sirius' shoulders and their foreheads together. "This is so beautiful, Sirius. I don't deserve this."

"You deserve the world, Remus. That's why I did this. And also so I could teach you to dance." He moved them into a waltz position, one hand holding onto Remus' hand and the other on his hip. Remus copied the position. "I know I suck, but why teach me?" Sirius chuckled and began the movements with no music. "We may need it someday. You never know." He placed a kiss on his nose and spun him, making a candle knock over. But it didn't catch on fire. Sirius took note of the shocked face and chuckled. "The ones on the floor are fake, I know how clumsy you are."

The footage changed once more, with a Sirius sitting in front of the camera and adjusting it, his dark hair curtaining his face. "Love, what are you doing?" Remus's tired voice came from behind, and Sirius finished with the camera, backing up and sitting next to Remus on a light blue couch, grabbing his hand. Both were sitting in Christmas pajamas and a tree was in the background, the colorful lights standing out against the grey walls. It had to be the previous Christmas or the one before since both men looked almost the exact same.

"Sirius, it is eight-thirty in the morning. I want to go to sleep. So, please, tell me what I'm doing so I can pass out until we have dinner with Peter, James, Lily, and Harry. I'm quite sure Marlene and Dorcas are going to come. And there's no doubt that Lily invited Frank and Alice, who are going to bring Neville. So that's seven other adults and two children. I need energy for this bullshit."

Sirius chuckled, kissing Remus' hand quickly. "Yes, love. I know. But I wanted to film a video while I had the idea. And I won't even think of posting it till you're comfortable with being out." Sirius smiled at Remus, who rolled his eyes. "Fine. What this amazing idea you had to wake me up for."

Sirius let go of Remus' hand to turn around and pick up a notepad that was sitting on a table just behind the couch. "Terrible pick-up lines." He grinned, and Remus groaned, grabbing a throw pillow and pressing it over his face. "Do you really have to? On this Holy day?"

His voice was muffled by the pillow, which just made Sirius chuckled again.

"Yes. You know I'm an atheist. So come one then, love. It'll be fun."

Remus took the pillow off his face, grumbling, "Tell me why I married you again."

"Because I'm handsome and you love me." Sirius grinned, and Remus grumbled something the camera didn't pick up. But it was enough to turn Sirius a tad bit pink. "Well yes, that too. But anyways."

Remus smiled at his flustered husband and looked at the camera, eyebrow raised. "So are you just going t say random pick-up lines, or are they all Christmas themed?"

Sirius shrugged, running over the list. "Little of both. I just wanted to see your reaction to some of these, considering you don't get embarrassed easily."

"I probably will since one, it's you and I'm one hundred percent sure that at least three-quarters of those are going to be dirty, and two it's on camera so you will definitely be using this against me in the future."

"Nah. Only half of them are dirty. So, can I start asking them?"

"Fire away, love."

Sirius smiled and kissed Remus quickly, then pulled his finger down the line until he found one that made him smirk. Remus' own smiled dropped lightly, trying the read the list upside down before Sirius pulled it away quickly. "Tch. Nope."

Remus groaned again and Sirius smiled before reading one of the lines.

"Good thing I have my library card, cause I'm checking you out."

He added a wink to the end of the line, and Remus shook his head.

"I sure hope you do, considering we're married."

Sirius narrowed his eyes slightly and huffed before reading the next.

"You stole my heart, so can I steal your last name?

ubnbnubnnu9n9ubn9ne9uvnvnfsvns9nsfubnfb

Now James was holding the camera, trying to set it up on an unseen object. Remus was behind him, shaking his head.

"Let me do that, James. I usually help Sirius so I know how to do it."

"Sure. Knock yourself out, Remmy boy."

Remus rolled his eyes at the nickname and moved in front of the camera, only taking a few more seconds to put it in place. He moved back and sat next to a huffing James.

"I did most of it."

"Sure you did, James."

He huffed again and leaned back on the couch, stretching out. The full extent of the room was open, and it was beautiful.

A large ornate crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling above the sleek leather couch the two sat on. A large cabinet with no doors behind them was full of framed photos of James and an older woman and man, smiling at the camera. A few had Sirius in them, arm slung over James shoulder amd smiling widely. More frames lined the walls of the large room, some paintings and some pictures of James and his friends.

"James, what are we doing?" Remus asked after a moment of the other doing nothing.

"My dear Remus, we are going to-"

James cut off abruptly, turning his hesd to look at something off screen.

"Did someone knock at the door?" Remus asked, and James nodded, getting up and walking out of frame. A small squek signaled the door opening, before James shouted.

"Sirius! Oh my god, what the fuck happened to you?!"

Remus jumped up and also ran off camera, coming back with James half dragging a bloody Sirius between them. They set him on the couch and he winced and cried out, his injures fully  exposed to the camera.

A large cut ran from the corner of his lip to under his eye, similar to one of Remus' s scars and still bleeding a little. His lip was busted and swollen, along with a black eye. He tried sitting up and cried out again, clutching his side in a way that suggested he broke a few of his ribs.

"Sirius, what happenened?" James repeated, and Remus held a hand out to stop him.

"Hold on, James."

He bent down, taking one of Sirius' hands into both of his own. The other was still clutching his waist.

"Sirius, I need you to tell me what happened, ok? Will you tell me?"

He let out a broken sob and leaned forward, trying to put his head on Remus' shoulder, instead yelling out once more and falling back on the couch, panting and wincing every few seconds.

"Shh, baby. Please tell me."

He lifted Sirius' hand to his mouth, kissing it gently out of the view of the camera.

"She found the letters."

It wasn't much, but Remus visibly paled when Sirius said it.

"What does he mean? Remus?" James was looking between the two, face caught in a worried expression. Remus turned to him, lip caught between his teeth.

"We wrote letters back and forth instead of texting. His mother found them."

James paled too, and walked closer to the couch.

"James, the camera. Get the camera. We'll have to show this tape to the court."

Remus stood up, placing a gentle kiss to Sirius' forehead and leaving the room while James walked quickly towards the screen, looking angry amd scared all at the same time.

It went back to just Sirius.

"I am so sorry, I did not know that taoe was in there. I apolgize if I have triggered something for any of you."

[masterjedilenawrites]

The Helmeted Hunter: Chapter 10

Boba Fett x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Injuries

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

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Chapter 10: Dehelmetization

It turned out the blue circles emitting from the gun indicated it was set to stun. You were thankful, having realized only after the danger was over that you really hadn't wanted to kill anyone. You'd just wanted to stop fighting.

Boba was still engaged with the two remaining thugs, using the various weapons strapped all over his body in absence of his gun. You could tell he was gaining the advantage, though, as he was able to move closer to the ship. You decided to start making your way onboard with the other bounty.

Determined as you were, you struggled to pull Hondo's body after you up the ramp. The sand that had accumulated in your clothes was the least of your concerns now. You knew exactly where there'd be bruises in the coming days, and you were pretty sure the scrapes along your arms were starting to bleed. Not to mention how generally out-of-shape you were and all the sore muscles that would linger as a result.

You continued dragging the pirate deeper into the Slave I, toward your old cell. You could see down the hall that Boba had finally made his way onto the ramp, and soon he was closing the hatch and making his way up to the cockpit. In no time, the ship was off the ground and bolting out into space.

You deposited Hondo in the cell and finally let yourself catch your breath. Your head buzzed as it came down from the adrenaline high that had spurred you through that frightening scene. You wiggled out of the helmet and let it fall unceremoniously onto the ground.

Boba reappeared shortly, moving very awkwardly and grunting in pain. It wasn't until he started throwing his shoulder against the wall that you realized it was dislocated.

"Stop, don't, you're going to make it worse!"

You rushed over and took hold of his arm to stop him from moving.

"I can fix it. Just twist your elbow in like this." You firmly grasped the shoulder and readied your stance. "When I count to three I'm going to pull, okay? One--"

You pulled without counting off the other numbers. The joint relocated with a satisfying pop. Boba initially yelped out, probably more in surprise than pain, and then heaved a sigh before settling down on a nearby crate.

"There. Now don't move it. No pushing or pulling or lifting. Just... let it rest."

The man was clearly exhausted. You shuffled back, feeling like you should give him some space but not knowing where else to go or what else to do. As you turned, finally deciding to just sit inside the cell with your blanket, he said your name.

"Wait," he murmured. "Can you help me get this off."

You inched your way back. "Get what off?"

He sighed again. "All of it. Please."

You forced yourself to consider this a normal request. Anyone who'd been through all that would want some reprieve from their armor. It didn't matter that you had yet to see him in anything other than this. Right?

But as you started by helping him remove the helmet, and you were finally face-to-face with the bounty hunter you'd already spent so much time with, you were struck with how he looked so... normal.

You didn't know what you had expected. Some kind of extreme, apparently. Either devastatingly handsome or butt-ass ugly. But he was on neither end of the spectrum. He had an average human face, slightly square jawline, angled eyebrows. His complexion was tanned with a thick line of stubble. His hair was black and a bit longer and curlier than you would've imagined. Overall, he had a fairly unremarkable appearance.

He was normal.

There was no real explanation why that thought gave you so much comfort. But you couldn't dwell anyway. You gently set down his helmet and continued helping him remove his armor, piece by piece. First were the weapons and straps. Then off came the jetpack and cape. When it came to his shoulder and chest plates, he grew a little impatient and tried wriggling them off himself. You hastily stopped him before he could aggravate his shoulder any more.

"Stop, I've got this. I know how to undress someone."

You went to set down the armor but caught yourself and turned back with flushed cheeks. "I took care of my sick grandmother once... is all I meant... by that."

Boba only looked at you with a quirked eyebrow, seeming unfazed by your accidental innuendo. But it unnerved you all the same. You were now able to see his facial expressions and it made you feel like you were intruding on his private thoughts somehow. You weren't sure you liked being this close to him after all.

It took a few more minutes to get the rest of the armor off, so that Boba was left in only his flight suit and shoes. A part of you was about to wonder how much else he wanted you to remove when he sat back down on the crate as a sign that this was relief enough.

"Thank you," he mumbled. He leaned out and rested his forearms on his legs, though he didn't put as much weight on his left side. You watched as he collected himself, noting the subtleties of the wrinkles on his face, the blinking of his eyes, the almost perpetual frown he wore along his mouth. All the little things you'd never seen but had always been there, hiding behind the helmet.

"You okay?" he asked, glancing over.

You only nodded.

He turned his gaze over to the lifeless form you'd dragged into the cell. The poor guy would surely be as sore and confused as you were when, or if, he ever woke up.

"The Rang Clan has a bounty on him," Boba explained in a subdued voice. "They have a long standing feud with Crimson Dawn so I thought... Well, I thought if I brought him in, they'd be willing to keep you hidden while I locate the buyer."

You opened your mouth, getting out one syllable of your disapproval before he said your name, cutting off the thoughts he knew you'd have.

"Look, if today was any indication, it's going to be difficult for me to keep protecting you. The instructions were clear that I had to deliver you alive and well. I won't get my money and you won't get your answers with the syndicate looking for us. We need help."

As you nodded and accepted his rationale, you found your shoulders were unwinding from a tension you'd forgotten about. Even though you'd said you were okay, you really weren't. The excitement was wearing off and your body was feeling heavy.

Boba was right, you couldn't endure this lifestyle for long. And if you were the one being hunted, you'd stand a better chance of finding answers if you let him search on his own.

"Besides," Boba added as he stood up again and stretched his back. "I need the money, too. I used the last of the fuel to jump us out of there."

"Jump?" you asked.

He looked at you and you were glad to see the corner of his mouth turn up slightly.

"Into hyper-speed? So we can't be followed?" When you shook your head, he sighed. "You really don't get out much, do you."

You gave him a sheepish smile. "I guess not."

"Come here."

He led you up to the cockpit, both of you moving slowly and protecting the parts of your bodies that stiffened in protest. When you finally caught sight of the windows, your breath hitched, surprised. Stars were streaking past at such incredible speeds that they blended together into lines of white and silver and sometimes blue. It was like you were looking into a prism or some kind of optical illusion. There was no way you should ever be traveling this fast, no way you should be seeing the stars like this, and yet, you were.

You wondered if there was anything left in the galaxy to amaze you.

[wisherbysharlight]

Can’t Deny It, Who You Are Is What You’re Feeling

Word Count: 5685

Pairings: Demus, LAMP(and all variations thereof)

Janus is trying to settle into his new role as the makeup artist for a small off-off Broadway production, but he can't seem to figure out the relationships going on in the troupe, let alone what he has going on with the eccentric set designer...

AO3 Link

Janus squinted at the side of the stage. He should definitely be trying to make himself useful, it being only his second day, but he had just finished an eye test on Valerie and he was fairly certain he could pass off his staring as making sure it looked right where she stood in the spotlights. Hell, that’s what he’d been doing originally, before getting side tracked by the male lead sliding off the stage to the crafts table, where he’d sidled up to Patton, the costume designer Janus had met yesterday. Patton had beamed like Christmas had come early and promptly started breaking off pieces of his muffin to feed over his shoulder to the man who was now firmly attached to his back with his arms around his waist, visibly giggling the entire time. They looked carefree and besotted with each other in a way that made an ugly curl of envy build up in his stomach, but he couldn’t look away once he’d started. At least, until the props master interrupted him, that is.

“They’re tooth-rottingly sweet, huh?” Janus would deny the sound he made til his dying day, but he was fairly certain it could only be described as a yelp. The prop master cackled, holding their hand out to shake, which Janus took, grateful for the distraction. “Hey, it’s Janus right? I’m Talyn. Could you come back this way and give me a hand with moving some of these bigger pieces over to the wings for the next scene?”

“Oh sure Talyn, I don’t have anything until my next stage test in an hour or so,” he assured, carefully pasting a smile on his face that he hoped looked genuine.

Talyn threw a thumbs-up over their shoulder as they went towards the workshop and Janus took the opportunity to look back over at the crafts table where Valerie had now joined the two during a break and was laughing brightly as the actor playfully picked Patton up, throwing him over his shoulder to head over to the drinks table, and Janus could hear the shrieks even from his distance, “Rooooman, oh my goodness, you put me down right now, you big show-off!” Huh, so Mr. Leading-Man was named Roman. Good to know.

“You’re just so easy to toss around, Patton-cake. Maybe stop being so cute and I won’t be so tempted,” Roman shot back, opening a can of apple juice with an overexaggerated casualness.

“I’ll get you back for this, you heathen,” Patton cried, changing tactics to poking and tickling at Roman’s sides.

The laughter could still be heard even in the back wings of the auditorium where the workshop was, and Talyn had to raise their voice to be heard as they worked to finagle a fake-flower covered arch through the doorway, “Thanks for the help. The set designer, Remus, is out shopping for supplies today and he’s usually the one who actually moves this kind of stuff, but the director needs this for some sort of choreography today.”

“No problem at all,” Janus assured again, eager to prove his usefulness. “Happy to help when I can.”

By the time they finished getting the bulky prop to the proper side of the stage, the break was over, Roman was back onstage with Valerie, Patton had gone back to the far wings of the stage to continue working, and Janus had a new actor to meet and a fake scar to attempt to do in a transition that lasted less than 10 minutes.

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Less than a week later and Janus once again found himself squinting to the side of the stage, but this time it was up higher in the sound and light booth. Actors were scattered throughout the theater, running lines with each other, and the Technical Director seemed to be taking the opportunity to work with the Lighting Technician on setting up a few cues. Nothing out of the ordinary, most of the productions Janus had worked on in school worked the same way, no, the interesting part was just how close the Technical Director was to the Lighting Technician in the booth as they worked. They seemed to be able to communicate without speaking at all, effortlessly moving around each other and flicking different settings and somehow coming out with the correct configuration without ever saying a word.

The ease around each other was palpable, and that was what caught Janus off guard. He’d worked with the TD, Logan, once, and that interaction had been succinct, professional, and brokered no nonsense. Now, though, Logan’s shoulders seemed to loosen up the more time he spent up in the lighting box, and every once in a while, when the technician was triple or quadruple checking a light, Janus could see the TD huff and roll his eyes teasingly, then dodge an equally teasing swat to his side or shoulder. And he’d smile , a real smile, not a smirk or a placating pleasantry, and Janus felt that nasty longing that was tinged green with jealousy snake up into his throat again.

He forced himself to look away, finally, just to see Roman sitting in the makeup chair looking thoroughly amused and he was suddenly glad he’d chosen to wear a full face of makeup today, not just covering his left side like usual, because now he could at least hope that his thick foundation would cover up the way his face flamed up at getting caught staring at a couple again . “Hello Roman, did you need something?” he asked, going to his workstation to avoid having to look at the actor’s smirking face anymore.

“Hmm? Oh. Yes, yes, yes, I did, I was wondering if I would be able to offer up my time for you to practice the second act’s possession effects, as I know you were saying it would be difficult to practice on a dummy, and I am much further ahead in my memorization than the others,” Roman rattled off, and when Janus turned back to him, he quickly averted his eyes from the lighting box. Hm, so apparently he wasn’t the only one looking, that was interesting…

“That would be great actually, thank you. Getting that pallid coloring done three times in one intermission is going to be tough unless I do it a few times ahead of the show, I appreciate it.” He brought his rolling cart over to the makeup chair and crouched in front of Roman, watching carefully without giving away that he was focused on anything other than the makeup. After the third time Roman’s eyes strayed towards the light box he decided to speak up, “What’s the lighting technician’s name? Haven’t met him yet.”

“Oh you mean Tall, Dark, and Moody? That’s Virgil, him and Logan grew up together so they’re pretty used to each other by now, it’s really great to watch them work,” Roman enthused, and that made more sense, Roman was just appreciating the well oiled machine. “We all send Logan up there when it looks like he’s ready to murder the next person to say ‘slightly behind schedule’. Or when Virge gets new cues and gets so overwhelmed he starts gnawing on that giant hoodie he’s always got on. They really good at chilling each other out.”

Janus absorbed all of this as he brushed a small test bit of gray over Roman’s cheek bones, mulling it over and ultimately content to just let Roman talk. By the time he was done with the ghostly sheen, he had learned that Logan, Virgil, Patton, and Roman all went to college together and all joined the budding troupe together straight afterwards, even though they all had offers for separate larger companies scattered across the country. It was clear that Roman would talk about his little group forever if he were allowed to, had spent almost 10 minutes alone enthusing about some cosplay work Patton did in college with this adorably smitten twinkle to his eye, but Janus had to let him up from the chair eventually. When he stepped back to admire his work, though, Roman didn’t make any moves to get up. “Spent all this time talking about us, how about you? What brings you to our humble little company instead of some larger agency?”

Janus startled a bit, not used to getting asked anything about himself. “I suppose I was intrigued by the premise of the play, and wanted to do more hands-on work than most agencies allow new graduates.” It wasn’t quite a lie, and Roman didn’t need to know that this particular theater had been Janus’s saving grace growing up, how he owed the owner, Thomas, everything, how…

“My brother is the exact same way. Not happy unless he has full, creative control over his sets,” Roman laughed, and Janus tilted his head curiously. “I mean it’s better that he has an outlet for his thoughts. You don’t wanna know what he gets like when you try to stifle him, woo boy. Much better he swing a hammer at the scenery than at my head.”

“It was a wiffle ball bat, I only hit you once, and you didn’t even have a concussion. And beside that, you practically dared me to.”

Janus spun so quickly his beanie tilted slightly, and he fidgeted with his gloves to hide the fact that his heart was racing, but his face remained carefully even, “Remus. Speak of the devil and he shall appear.” The man had a way of blending into the shadows until you least wanted him to jump out at you. Janus had been too startled to even react the first time, but Remus had taken it as though he wasn’t scared at all and was now determined to make him scream. Luckily, Janus had great experience controlling his expressions, the few times he’d been caught daydreaming observing relationships around the theater notwithstanding.”Were you looking for Roman or are you just here to bother me?”

Remus swooned dramatically, “Bother! You wound me! Nono, Joan sent me, they want Roman on stage to help Virgey-poo calibrate the acoustics after I, er, nudged one of the speakers over. Accidentally, of course.”

Roman rolled his eyes and scoffed, “You pissing Virgil off has never once been an accident. But I’ll head over there before Tickle-Me-Emo has a heart attack.” He turned to Janus, patting him on the back, “Good luck with him, don’t let him near anything sharp or he’ll try to cut his own bangs in the name of creating a new hairstyle.”

“I can handle him just fine,” Janus drawled, and pointedly ignored the suggestive look Remus gave him in return. Instead, he focused again up on the lighting box where Virgil seemed to be ranting, hands flying in front of his face, as Logan patiently listened. Roman finally got up on the stage and Virgil started messing with the sound board, forehead creased in concentration, and Janus pretended there wasn’t a tug in his heart when Logan leaned over to smooth the skin out just between his eyebrows with his thumb, earning himself a small but genuine smile, before heading back down to work.

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Three weeks into rehearsals and Janus was really getting the hang of his new life. He and his roommate, Remy, the publicity manager for the theater, had moved into a new apartment closer to the theater with Remy’s boyfriend Emile, as between the three of them they could now afford more than what basically amounted to a shoebox. He’d made friends, something he’d thought was somewhat of a pipe dream before. He absolutely adored his job. Two to three times a day he would snag actors to do test runs of looks and see how they turned out on stage, tweaking things here and there when he could. The rest of the time he would help out around the theater, helping Logan with keeping Remus in line and on schedule(Remus would sometimes demand only Janus be allowed in his studio, and Janus had found that Remus was much more bearable when he felt he was paid attention to. Pleasant, even, if a little random and impulsive), shopping for props for Talyn, running lines with Valerie or Roman or Terrence or the background actors when the others were busy, or, most often, assisting Patton in costuming.

Apparently, Patton was supposed to have an assistant but they’d had a family emergency and Patton had brushed off the idea of trying to find someone else on short notice. Janus had noticed, of course, that Patton came in earlier and stayed later than almost anyone else and so he went out of his way to help where he could. He had some basic sewing experience and worked well as a sounding board for Patton to bounce his ideas off of while he worked, and Janus was thrilled to be able to be helpful. He had also noticed Patton was more willing to take breaks if he thought Janus needed one and Janus was not above being a bit dramatic with his yawns to get Patton to relax for a few minutes. He’d become fond of the guy.

He’d just gone to the craft table to grab something Patton would eat, intending to goad him into taking 15 minutes off. He’d gotten a bit sidetracked when Remus decided to “stumble” into him, leaving a large forest-green handprint right in the center of his chest and loudly declare that he needed to take it off (Janus made a note in his head to spend the next day in his workshop, he was definitely looking for attention, and he was missing the rowdier man a bit besides), but he had still only been gone about 20 minutes, so he was surprised when he heard another voice coming from the sewing room aside from Patton. “- and we need to make sure Valerie’s weighted dress is done before next Wednesday, she needs to rehearse the choreography with the added material-”

“Lolo, relax. I’ll get it done, I promise,” came Patton’s voice, light and almost teasing in a way Janus had never heard before. He’d almost describe it as… flirtatious? But that didn’t make any sense… “You’re starting to sound like Virgil with all that fretting. You know me, you know I never break a promise.”

“Y-yes,” and now Logan sounded flustered, which really was out of character, “Of course, Patton, I just wanted to make sure you had all the resources you needed and were not overextending yourself-”

Patton cut him off again, and this time Janus got the impression he was very amused, “I’ve got everything I need, right here, Mr. Berry. I even promise I’ll do something to relax tonight, sound good? Pick up a bottle of wine and have a night in, maybe watch a movie, something to really decompress…” Janus got the distinct feeling he was missing something, because Patton was speaking as though he had a completely different meaning behind the words, but they seemed completely innocent.

Janus finally decided to head into the studio then, feeling like he’d been eavesdropping on something private, and when he saw Patton he was leaning against his desk casually, no indication in his body language at all that he’d been flirting like Janus thought he’d heard. He thought maybe he’d been mistaken, but Logan was adjusting his tie even though the knot was perfect, like always, and had a very faint pink to his cheeks that he would have missed if he weren’t paying attention. He lightly cleared his throat before speaking, “Hello Janus. I was just heading out. Thank you for assisting Patton with keeping to the deadlines, it is much appreciated. Patton, we can continue our discussion later.” Patton smiled brightly, looking like the picture of innocence, and waved as Logan headed back towards Remus’s workshop and Janus repressed a wince. Yeah, he’d definitely visit tomorrow if Logan was going to get on his case about deadlines too.

He pasted a smile on, making sure not to indicate he’d heard anything before coming in, “Hey Pat, I grabbed some cookies and tea from the craft table. Remus sends his regards.” He gestured wryly to the graphic tee shirt he held in his hands, still grateful he’d worn an undershirt today.

Patton beamed and took a cookie, looking all the more innocent when he bounced a bit on his toes, curls catching in the light as they moved with him, “Woo! You rock, we definitely earned a few cookies today!” He tilted his head curiously at the stain, then nodded like he’d decided something, “I can definitely get that out, by the way, just need some vinegar and washing soda. Re does stuff like that to Roman all the time. Leave it with me and it’ll be perfectly fine by tomorrow!”

Janus smiled again, feeling taken care of in a way he hadn’t in a long time, and it felt more real this time, “Thanks Patton.”

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Janus was making good on his promise to himself the next day, lounging on a chair next to the open door of Remus’s workshop even though it was technically his day off. He came into the theater every day no matter what just in case anyone needed assistance, but it was nice to not feel guilty for not doing his own work. He people-watched between the points where Remus would ask for his opinion on a piece or start up a seemingly unrelated conversation, letting the silence fall when Remus needed to focus. He’d been watching Virgil up in the tech box, messing with the settings for the lighting of one of Valerie’s solo scenes while she rehearsed. He had that focused crease in his brow again but he didn’t look nearly as murderous as when Remus screwed around with his speakers, so Janus didn’t feel the need to get Logan yet, but when the door opened behind the engineer he’d still been expecting the technical director to come in.

What happened instead was much more confounding to Janus. Patton burst through the door, looking worn down and cranky, and paced the room a few times with his hands waving around. Virgil took his headphones off without turning around and nodded along, not breaking focus at all but still responding from what Janus could see. Then, seemingly out of steam, the costume designer maneuvered around cords and computers over to Virgil’s chair and promptly ducked under his arm and threw a leg over Virgil’s before burrowing his face into Virgil’s neck. Virgil didn’t flinch at all, continuing to focus on the lighting of the scene by simply arranging Patton slightly on his lap so he could tuck his own head over his shoulder.

At some point in the performance on stage, Valerie and the director aimed a thumbs up at the light box, and Virgil gave a self satisfied smile as he leaned back and finally wrapped his arms around Patton in return.

“Jannie?” Remus called, sitting back from his stage setting, a beautiful star-lit grove, “Do you think you could make me look like a werewolf?”

Janus blinked at him for a couple moments, not knowing how to respond, before he just  shrugged, “Sure. Might look a little weird with your mustache though.”

Remus nodded, once, with finality to it, “How about a tentacle monster?”

“Same answer,” Janus replied, quicker this time now that he knew where Remus’s head was at.

“Huh. I think I’d like to try being a tentacle monster at some point. Could probably terrify the shit outta Roman. Not to mention all the benefits of tentacles.”

Janus laughed, charmed as always by Remus’s ability to just say whatever he felt like without hiding anything, “You name the time and place and I’ll be there, Remus.”

Remus gave him a blinding smile and Janus felt his breath catch a bit. God, this whole thing was so stupid but he couldn’t bring himself to care at all. He found that he’d do just about anything to make Remus smile like that again. “It’s really nice to have a partner in crime now,” Remus enthused, twirling his paintbrush without a care in the world if he splashed himself with paint.

“Yeah, Re, I get what you mean.”

By the time Remus had gone back to work splattering a blood stain artfully over a tree in the middle of the otherwise beautiful landscape, Patton had left the tech box and Virgil was back to his computer with his headphones on.

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It was one week til opening night, and Janus had been sent to find Remus, who had apparently announced he was going on a quest for inspiration which alarmed pretty much everyone who knew him, but instead he’d stumbled upon Logan, alone in the orchestra pit, looking like he was ready to scream as he tugged at the padlock on a crate. Janus made his way over and tapped Logan on the shoulder lightly, “Hey, everything alright?”

Logan’s eyes were fiery as he responded, and Janus was just a little bit taken aback, “The previous production group left the alternate curtain ropes in this container, nicely labeled and everything, except the box has this godforsaken lock and I do not want to have to pay for bolt cutters. Or have the time to buy them before dress rehearsals. It’s rather… infuriating.”

Janus laughed a bit and knelt down next to the box, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket and taking a long thin piece of metal out, “You don’t have to do that, rotation locks like this are ridiculously easy to pick.” He manipulated the piece of metal up under the last rotation dial and pressed up, trying to listen for the click even though Roman and Valerie were rehearsing their final duet up on stage. He finally got the lock to pop open and turned to show it to Logan, only to find him thoroughly distracted by the scene on the stage.

Janus could understand, he had no interest in Roman Prince( his brother on the other hand...) but even he thought the way he was waltzing Valerie around the stage was a bit hypnotizing, the lyrics soft and sultry and romantic for the final number of the performance. Logan seemed to be completely entranced, singing along under his breath to Valerie’s piece and following their movements carefully. His eyes were filled with nothing short of adoration as he swayed to the music and as Janus watched carefully, the movements matched up fairly evenly to Valerie’s part in the dance as well. Logan didn’t look away until the director had called for a cut for adjustments. He shook himself slightly, seeming to remember all of a sudden that Janus was there, and flushed brightly as he took the lock from Janus, “Oh. Um. Thank you, very much. Where did you learn to pick locks like that?”

Janus could practically envision his mask slipping into place, covering the memories of manipulating the door to the theater open for what must have been the hundredth time only to come face to face with the new owner…

“Oh it’s barely a party trick, just something I picked up along the line. Let me know if you need any more street-rat techniques,” he brushed off with a wry grin, waving a hand dismissively, “Anywho, any chance you’ve seen Remus around?”

Logan eyed him a bit critically for a moment then seemed to choose not to push it further, “Yes, I believe I saw him lurking back by your station actually.”

Janus repressed a disappointed sigh at himself. Of course, Remus had come looking for him if something had upset him. He took off for the makeup room quickly, leaving Logan behind to stare up at the stage again while Roman began rehearsing the solo piece of the song. He didn’t miss the small wink Roman aimed down at the pit when the director had turned to answer a question, and filed that bit of information away with Logan’s admiring gaze to analyze after he’d made sure Remus was alright.

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Janus was not used to anyone being in his station before him, but he was starting to become used to being surprised, so he didn’t even really react to seeing Roman and Virgil commandeering one of his makeup chairs, Roman’s hands buried in Virgil’s long black and purple hair, twisting it into intricate braids as they argued fiercely. “No, Virge, you don’t get to say ‘American Idiot’ is your favorite Broadway song. That doesn’t count.”

“It totally counts. You wouldn’t say ‘Honey, Honey’ doesn’t count, even though that’s just an ABBA song!”

“Don’t you dare bring Mamma Mia into this, that is a classic!”

“So is American Idiot!”

“Girls, girls, you’re both pretty,” Janus droned, smiling at the Venti Iced Mocha sitting on his rolling tray, ice not even melted yet, with a little doodle of a green dragon blowing fire at what he could only assume was Roman on one side, and a python wearing Janus’s signature beanie on the other. Virgil and Roman both turned to glare at him and he smirked back, lounging back in his chair and taking a long sip from his coffee in a loose impression of Remy, “What are you two doing in my domain aside from attempting to drive each other up the wall?”

“Princey was having a minor meltdown about opening night tomorrow, so I told him he could braid my hair,” Virgil told him, squinting curiously at the cup like he was trying to make out what the doodles were.

“Not true! Virgil was freaking out about opening night, not me, and he asked me to braid his hair,” Roman whined, though Janus noted that the whole time Roman’s hands never stopped moving and Virgil seemed to lean further and further into them, both their shoulders relaxing more and more as the braids took a more concrete form, “Though I will admit it is somewhat of a ritual for us at this point. Been doing this since freshman year of college when Virge first started growing his hair out.”

“Barely had enough for one braid back then, you would just do it and take it out over and over again while I ran lines with you,” Virgil commented fondly, fidgeting with the end of a piece which was left down.

“And I didn’t have the skills which I do now, of course.”

“Oh, no doubt. Maybe I’ll cut it so you could test that theory.”

“Don’t you dare!” Janus looked up from his thank you text to Remus(he’d responded with a giant squid emoji, followed by a dirty joke about proper thank yous which Janus found unreasonably funny), tilting his head curiously at Virgil’s smirk and Roman’s blush. “I-I mean, it’s your hair, obviously, but it definitely suits you being grown out.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll leave it be. Just for you,” Virgil shot back, and Janus felt like he could see the years of friendship in his smile.

Roman and Virgil stuck around for another hour until the director got there, ribbing each other over everything from music preference to sleeping habits to, bizarrely, the dark undertones of Disney movies, not even noticing when Janus slipped off to Remus’s workshop to have his own minor meltdown about opening night, lost in their own little world.

(Remus already had a hammer and some messed-up pottery out, actually encouraged him to smash stuff, cheering him on enthusiastically, and Janus thought he might have found his own pre-show ritual. He didn’t even realize he hadn’t felt envious of Roman and Virgil’s easy camaraderie and teasing affection at all until he was lying in bed that night.)

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Janus made a downright embarrassing shriek when he felt a mustache rub against his neck and Terrence broke off from their conversation to the living room with a playful eye roll, leaving the other two in the kitchen. “Come on Re, don’t start anything you can’t finish in public,” he teased lightly, patting Remus on the cheek, the adrenaline rush from three successful shows, the pure joy at being officially offered a full time position within the theater troupe from Thomas (from Thomas , who took a chance on the high school dropout who snuck in to the theater to use the big mirrors and the real theater makeup and listen to music echo through the empty stage. Thomas who so generously gave him the recommendation letter he needed to get the scholarship to cosmetology school. Thomas who found him a roommate so he wouldn’t have to stay with an older brother that didn’t understand him at all. Thomas who had seen his talent for deception and pushed him to turn it into art. Thomas who Janus owed his entire life to...) and the three vodka sodas in his system making it difficult to even begin to hide his flirtation, especially since he was fairly confident at this point he wouldn’t be rebuffed.

He felt more than heard the laugh that followed as Remus pulled away, still leaving his arms wrapped around Janus’s waist, a testament to the comfortable something (Janus refused to call it a relationship, even in his head, lest he burst the perfect bubble of happiness) they’d fallen into, “Come on Jan, you can’t deprive me of finally getting revenge on my brother for the years of cast-party-brand PDA he’s put me through.”

Janus stiffened and he turned to face Remus quickly, bracing himself on Remus’s chest when he started to trip a bit out of tipsiness. He also blamed the tipsiness for his lack of ability to cover up his curiosity, “PDA? What do you mean? I’ve spent the last 6 weeks trying to figure out who would end up with who in that group, but Roman’s already seeing someone?”

Remus smirked at him, clearly enjoying a less-inhibited Janus, and didn’t audibly answer. Instead, he laced their fingers together(Janus was not blushing like he was a middle-schooler. He wasn’t. If his foundation just so happened to help hide that lie then so be it.) and led him back towards the living room where a particularly rowdy game of beer pong was being played with Logan and Virgil on one side with only one cup in front of them and Joan and Talyn on the other with two, all four of them looking like a giant weight was off their shoulders with the last show of the first weekend over and done with and four whole days before the next one. Patton and Roman stood behind Logan and Virgil’s side, alternating between making ridiculous and distracting movements and singing along to whatever was playing through the speakers. The other team missed both their shots and Virgil snagged the balls, handing one to Logan before holding the other behind him. Patton leaned in and blew on the ball, then leaned further to press a kiss to Virgil’s cheek with a visible giggle while Roman mimicked his motions with Logan. Oh, ok, that kinda made sense for how the pairings worked out, he supposed…

Janus’s head tilted in confusion as Roman and Patton promptly switched positions and repeated their actions before they actually fell back. Logan and Virgil then glanced at each other from the corners of their eye, smirked, and sent both balls flying in unison. They didn’t even circle the rim, sinking easily, and the room erupted in chants to “chug” that Joan and Talyn took good naturedly on one knee as they emptied their cups.

Janus wasn’t watching the prop master and stage manager, though, instead focused on where Logan had apparently flung himself into Virgil’s arms in celebration, wrapped his legs around his waist, and promptly kissed him like he was trying to devour him, glasses tilted with no attempt being made to adjust them. Patton laughed brightly and tugged on Virgil’s sleeve to bring them both over to the couch with a practiced ease that said this was a fairly regular occurrence, Roman practically skipping as he followed. Logan transferred to Roman’s lap once they were settled, kissing him with the same amount of barely-restrained hunger, and Patton took his place in Virgil’s, pressing small kisses up his throat at the same time as he hooked his pinky with Logan’s and nudged his feet under Roman’s thigh, at which point Janus looked away, blushing furiously at just how shameless they all were.

He turned back to Remus with wide eyes just to find him openly laughing at him, “How long have you spent trying to figure that out, hm? For someone so smart you’re kinda a dumbass sometimes.”

Janus pouted, still feeling flustered and embarrassed that he’d somehow missed the idea of polyamory, but in the back of his mind he was delighted that the angry green jealous monster was no longer clawing at his insides at seeing so much open affection. He finally had someone who replaced that nasty curl with fluttering butterflies. Someone who gave a shit about him, and who was darkly hilarious and creative and didn’t hide anything but didn’t push Janus to be completely open in return. Someone Janus could truly see a future with, someone he felt he could trust.

He made a calculated decision, and his mouth turned up in a smirk as he grabbed Remus’s wrist and tugged him over to the pong table, “Tell you what, Re-Re. You help me win and you can have as much revenge as you want.”

Remus’s eyes went dark but his smile was blinding, “And if we lose?”

Janus grinned back, sharp and wicked, and easily sunk his first ball despite Remy’s boyfriend Emile jumping around ridiculously on the other side, “Guess you’ll just have to keep up so we don’t.” Remus’s grin widened even further at the challenge and he nodded resolutely, focus zeroed in.

For all the talk of revenge, they didn’t even notice Roman’s indignant squawk when Remus pinned Janus to the wall before Remy could even take the last cup off the table.

[trillian-anders]

first blood

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

warnings:  angst, general asshole-ness.

word count: 4.6k  

description: part 3 of 5. how did you become ransom’s glorified babysitter? and why the fuck are you keeping this job? who knows. you hate it, you hate him, but... the money. 

note: tumblr is being super shitty rn so I can only post on mobile, but I really wanted to get this off my desk! will add a read more and properly link later 💕

prequel to the assistant && four christmases, spoiler free loves. 

You have to do this.

You have to do this.

You have to do this.

You don’t think your eyes will ever feel normal again. They were dry and scratchy. There were no more tears to shed. You’d buried your Mom two months ago, but you didn’t know how it would ever feel okay. She did everything for you and Julia. Everything. She worked hard, made pretty good money, allowed you to have a part time job and just focus on school. Julia was in this really nice private school, she played the cello now for fucks sake. She had friends and was talking about maybe starting soccer soon, but after funeral costs and your sister’s tuition the life insurance money was running out.

You had to sell the house.

You’d moved the two of you into a small apartment right outside of Chinatown. Not the safest area, but not the most unsafe either. You’d be fine. You had each other, and she needed you to do this. You had to do this.

For her.

You sat uncomfortably in the cheap office chair, sitting across from a woman with too many papers on her desk, everything sloppily arranged around a couple of potted succulents and a framed picture of her and her three kids, no spouse.

“So your last job was in tutoring?” She asked you. You shifted nervously in your seat, nodding your head,

“Yeah, I tutored a high school student in English and Math.” You needed some water. The cheap pencil skirt and blouse you were wearing made your skin itch. She types into her computer some more.

“So why are you here?” She asked, “Why not continue tutoring?” A few more clicks and then more typing.

“The family I worked for paid me pretty well,” You admitted, “But she’s graduating this year and they didn’t need me anymore, I don’t really,” You cleared your throat, “I don’t really have much job experience outside of that and I need to start making money now… I’ve put out job applications but haven’t really gotten any luck.” Not with the income you needed anyway. The woman nodded. The plaque on her desk said her name is Stacy Chandler.

“Alright, here you are.” A printed page, address, date, and time. A job. Clerical work. Data entry. You have to do this...

-

“How was your last day of school?” Julia sat heavily at the kitchen table, backpack slumped on the floor next to her. She buried her face in her arms.

“I’m never going again.” Came muffled from her mouth. She lifted her head to look at you. The beginnings of puberty. You’d recently gone bra shopping for the first time. Real ones, no more training bras. You’d recently taken her to the dermatologist for her acne, but she’s not good at remembering to put on the expensive creams you bought. What a hard time. You don’t envy her.

“Luckily for you,” You smiled, placing a fudgy brownie in front of her, “You don’t have to go back for three whole months!” She rolled her eyes heavily, taking the brownie and disappearing into her room presumably to sit on her computer until dinner.

She was feeling the absence of your Mother just as you were. You weren’t sure what to do here. You loved your sister and you know she loves you too, but in the last few months it’s just been closed doors and a few parting sentences. Only because you had to work so much. Only because she spent a lot of time at friend’s houses where you’d think she would feel normal for a while. It would help ease the burden of being in your mid-twenties and suddenly feeling like a single mother. Of course you can sleep over at Mila’s house, her family is going to their cabin for the weekend of course you can go!

You didn’t know what to do other than keeping her in school and alive. You weren’t ready for this. But the only other option was your estranged aunt who reeked of mothballs and was constantly asking you if you were married, or dating, or ‘You’re Mother wouldn’t have wanted this’. No. It was very clear that your Mom wanted the two of you to stay together, and that’s how it’s going to be.

This summer she was going to spend with her friend Mila at their family’s lake house. Mila’s mother was a stay at home mom with six kids under the age of 12 and would be planning to spend the summer pintresting activities and projects with them while simultaneously getting out of her stuffy-old 10 bedroom, 8 bathroom mansion. Lucky her. Lucky Julia.

The apartment would be empty without the 12-year-old pre-teen for three months, but Julia has really been looking forward to it. Her bags were packed and ready by the door.

You hugged her tightly in front of Mila’s house, burying your face in her hair, partially not wanting her to go, but otherwise knowing that she’s going to have a better time than you could ever provide her. “Okay, you can let me go now.” She shifted in your arms, trying to pull away.

“Just another minute.” You mumbled, pulling her in tighter. “I’m gonna miss you.” She laughed,

“I’m gonna miss you too.” The two of you pulled apart and you tucked her hair behind her ears, cupping her sweet face.

“I love you,” You said very seriously, “If you ever want to come home just-”

“I’ll let you know.” She was getting impatient, the car Mila’s mom was taking to the lake house, a beautifully large black Range Rover sat packed next to you, they were waiting. “I love you too.” She slowly backed away towards the car.

“If she gets homesick, my husband still comes back every week for work so he can bring her home if need be,” Andrea was her name, Mila’s Mom. “She’ll be fine.” Andy was really nice. She made a lot of the food the two of you had eaten in the early days after your Mom’s death. Her gentle reassurance soothed you slightly. It made driving away a little easier, but it didn’t stop the tears that fell as you entered your apartment, alone. For the first time in a while. You didn’t have to hold it in anymore.

You sunk down against your front door, staring out into your living room, tears rolling down your cheeks in the silence of the home. Dirty shoes lined up against the wall, throw blanket hanging halfway off the couch, dirty dishes from breakfast still in the sink, and somewhere you’re sure under all of it was the will to pick yourself back up.

You just didn’t know if you were ready for that quite yet.

But you did it anyway.

More clerical work. More data entry. More bills going half paid and others being ignored all together. Student loans you didn’t even want to think about from a school where you hadn’t even graduated. Medical bills you didn’t even know where to begin paying back, itchy stockings, and uncomfortable shoes. With every day that passed you reexamined your life. How did you get here?

A new job, a new office. Temp assigned, but you knew who worked here. The building that housed it stood tall against the Boston skyline. Contemporary. You sat comfortably in a cushy office chair. The plaque on the desk read Linda Drysdale, CEO. And you waited.

You hadn’t seen the Thrombey’s, let alone the Drysdale branch of the family, for five months. Zero contact. Joni had talked to you last, thanking you for helping Meg, but also trying to sell you eye cream. “You really should invest in taking better care of yourself.” Which was her kind way of trying to tell you that you look old. Thanks.

You couldn’t imagine what Linda would want you for. You’d been doing some filing, they were transferring all of their documents to digital and hired extra help to do so, you were one of three hired from your particular temp agency, but yesterday she had called you personally and asked you to come in for an appointment today at 3 pm. And here you are.

Waiting.

There was a portrait of her family on the wall. Linda herself sitting in a high backed intricate chair, her husband Richard standing to her right, and to her left was her son, Hugh. He went by his middle name Ransom. They were stone faced, serious looking. This painting seemed ridiculous. If you didn’t know the Thrombey’s you’d think it was there to be ironic, as a joke, a play on what rich families were like.

But they were a rich family, and this is what they were like.

Linda was self-serving. She only ever talked to you when it suited her own interests and as soon as she was satisfied she would quickly direct her attention somewhere else, to someone more important. She used you to get what she wanted and when you served her purpose you were gone. She had no time for anyone, only her father. Anything for Harlan.

Richard was a predator. He was always making an uncomfortable comment about either your body or your face. He stood uncomfortably close at times and liked to settle a hand on the small of your back. He was a well kept man, throwing his wife’s money around like it was his own. He kept a money clip of hundreds in his pocket.

Ransom was a piece of shit. He was a self-centered egotistical asshole who was sure to make your life a living hell every time he saw you. There was always a comment, a jab at your clothes, your hair, the fact that you are poor. He once ‘accidentally’ threw your cardigan away because, “I thought it was one of those fucking rags you dust with, I didn’t want it touching my burberry.” He, like his father, felt predatory. Something about being a rich white man just really got them going, and the money clip with the hundreds… a learned habit.

“Alright,” Linda’s voice came from the doorway, you turned slightly in your seat. She was on the phone, “Well we will send Michael out to show them the properties instead, I’m sure we’ll find something they like.” She gave you a finger, hold on, even though you’d been sitting here patiently waiting for her for close to twenty minutes now. “Okay,” She continued, “Sounds good.” Sitting down in her chair, tapping a few keys to illuminate her computer screen. “Alright now, bye-bye.” She took her phone from her ear, looking down at the screen before placing it face down on the desk and smiling at you.

You knew that smile. She wanted something.

“So, Y/N right?” You nodded, “I see you’re looking for work.”

“Well, I’m with a temp agency right now but-”

“Would you like something a little more permanent?” A permanent job? The Thrombey’s had paid you very well to tutor Meg, better than you were making now. Granted you had only worked 15 hours a week when you were tutoring her, so $20 an hour didn’t seem like that big of a deal, but if they were looking for something, anything full time…

“Absolutely,” You smiled, shifting in your seat, “I’ve had trouble being hired because my-”

“Okay so you’re going to need Ransom’s number, and you’ll start tomorrow.” Your smile dropped.

“Ransom needs a tutor?” You asked skeptically. She laughed.

“No, he needs an assistant.” She gestured towards herself, “I can’t keep telling him when or where to be for family events and he has a fairly active social life so I’m gifting him an assistant for his birthday.” Oh.

“I uhm,” You really didn’t want to work for Ransom. You REALLY didn’t want to work for Ransom. “How much would it…?” You trailed off nervously.

“My father paid you $20 an hour to tutor Meg, yes?” She asked, typing something into her computer, no longer looking at you.

“Yes, he did.” You moved trying to see what she was typing without bringing too much attention to it. She was drafting an email.

“So I’ll pay you the same. Ransom will set hours for you and decide what days of the week he’ll need you and what else he wants you to do,” She waved her hand dismissively, “Cleaning, cooking, whatever.” She scribbled on a post-it before peeling and handing it to you. “Here’s his number and address, you can go over the particulars of your job tomorrow morning.” You opened your mouth to speak again, ask her the million and one questions you have but before you could say anything she dismissed you, “That is all.” She said. And she was done with you.

She got what she wanted. And now she wanted you to leave.

So you did.

“Well,” He grinned, “Linda really scooped you up from the bottom of the barrel, huh?” You stood on Ransom’s front porch. The only texts you sent and received last night were ‘What time do you need me to be there?’ and an hour later the reply of ‘11’. The scumbag was standing in the doorway, leant against the frame, looking down on you. In more than one way.

“Can I come in?” You asked. You really didn’t want to do this. But a $12 an hour temp job versus $20 hour stability… hard to beat. He smirked, pushing off the frame before looking you up and down, turning to disappear into the house.

“Take off your shoes.” What a fucking joke. His house was a mess. Clothes thrown haphazardly around, a pile of dishes not in the sink, but on the counter. Abandoned cups, tv was rolling on in the background, some political documentary. The house, while contemporary and clean, well kept on the outside. The inside looked like a frat house during rush week. You didn’t want to take off your shoes in fear that you’d step in vomit or something worse.

He grinned off to the side, “Had some people over last night.” He explained, drinking what looked like orange juice from a coffee mug. The vodka bottle that was capless on the counter led you to believe that orange juice wasn’t the only thing in the cup. “You can start by cleaning up.” He gestured around, sinking back down into the sofa. “I’m sure I’ll think of something else you can do when you’re done.” The fucking prick.

You shut the door a little heavier than intended, slipping your sneakers off and placing them by the door. “You’ve got a laundry room?” You asked, he didn’t look away from the television,

“Basement.” And he was done with you too. The tone was very, don’t talk to me. Which honestly you were grateful for.

You cleaned up his messes, the red solo cups that littered almost every surface in every room, laundry was running in the basement, dishwasher working hard to sanitize the first round of plates and cups that could fit, the others waiting patiently in the sink as you wipe counters and dusted picture frames, the thick film of unappreciation. He didn’t care about his house, his furniture, the art that cost more than your apartment that lined his walls. His clothes, while having an extensive closet, some were threadbare and with holes.

He didn’t care.

And it made you angry.

You thought of the furniture you were able to keep from your Mother’s house, well oiled and kept. No scratches. The fabrics of the couches and chairs carefully cleaned and maintained.

His sheets were stained and you were unsure when the last time he had washed them actually was. The dampness made you gag. It wasn’t long before you were cleaning under his feet. His ankles crossed and feet resting on the coffee table as you straightened the area around him. You felt his eyes on you, briefly, but ignored it.

“Do you have any real clothes?” He asked suddenly. He stood from the sofa, rounding it to pull the vodka bottle back out from the cabinet you’d placed it in, pouring heavily into the coffee mug before leaving the bottle and the orange juice carton he followed with next to it.

“These are real clothes.” You stated, coming behind him to put the items away. He scoffed,

“I’m important,” He claimed, “I go to parties, events.” He took a large mouthful of the screwdriver he’d just made, “You can’t wear clothes like that if you’re gonna be babysitting me the whole time.” You rolled your eyes,

“I don’t have to go. You set my hours, I don’t-”

“As much as I love the whole, ‘I’m poor and don’t care what I look like’, thing you have going on,” Ransom laughed, “You’re gonna be around me, and as a reflection of me, you need to look presentable.” He gestured to the demin shorts a t-shirt you were currently wearing, mismatched socks on your feet. You felt your face flush. “And slap a little makeup on.” You rolled your eyes at that. Fucking dick. He smirked when you didn’t reply, turning back around to leave you and disappeared upstairs.

He didn’t come down for a while. In that time you’d finished cleaning the living area, the house looking a complete 180 from where it had been when you’d originally entered, it was nearing dinner time. Your stomach was growling and you’d realized you had been cleaning for five hours without stopping.

You didn’t get to enjoy the sense of accomplishment because Ransom came down the stairs not a moment later, dressed for his evening. If you didn’t hate him so much you’d drool. He looked good. Patterned slacks, chelsea boots, a lightweight white button down, blazer over one arm. “Let’s go.” He said, not stopping on his way towards the front door.

“Where are we going?” You felt gross, covered in grime from cleaning, sweat dried on your skin you knew you probably didn’t smell amazing, hair frizzed up in a bun. He didn’t answer you, continuing outside. You sighed heavily, throwing the pair of socks you’d just matched back into the laundry basket before slipping your shoes on and following him outside.

“C’mon!” He yelled from the front seat of his beamer, sunglasses on his nose, he was annoyed with you. Whatever. You sat heavily in his passenger seat, the dickwad not even giving you time to close the door before he was speeding down the driveway.

“Where are we going?” You asked again. One hand on the wheel, the other’s fingertips brushing against his lower lip he looked at you from behind his sunglasses.

“To dinner.” He smirked, looking back towards the road as you merged onto the interstate.

He was a fucking asshole. If you hadn’t thought he was before you definitely knew now. You were surprised the hostess even let you into this place. It was expensive, and you were very, very underdressed. Point taken Ransom. Thank you. Fucking prick.

He took glances at you ever so often, seated a few feet away from him at the long banquet style table that housed all of his ‘friends.’ Gorgeous women and equally as gorgeous men who had money to burn. You weren’t sure any of these people have ever worked a day in their life, much like Ransom himself. You’d met a few of them before, briefly, when Ransom would show up and ask Harlan for money before disappearing for a week, one or two of them would be in tow bragging about going on some guy’s yacht or flying out to some private island.

Regardless, they weren’t talking to you. You were a strange interloper, easily ignored, but only after a few poked fun at the stray dog at Ransom’s heels. It only stung a little bit when he laughed with them. You were wildly uncomfortable. You poked at your deconstructed salad, the little bits lined neatly up on the plate, a smear of salad dressing beside it. This menu was ridiculous. Why were you here again? You were so hungry and this was not your speed at all. Ransom’s booming laugh met your ears and you could feel the anger rising in your chest.

Fucking asshole. You hoped he would choke on one of the olives in his martini. His eyes met yours momentarily and he smirked. He fucking smirked, cheersing you with his martini before it met his lips again. You could kill him right now.

The money.

The money.

Technically you were still working. As the sun set behind the horizon. You’d been at work, technically, for about 10 hours. That’s $200. Okay, you can do this. You can do this.

You know he did this to embarass you. He made it clear when you’d pull up to the restaurant to give you a taunting look. Whether the dinner was already planned or he had planned it after the conversation about clothes and makeup earlier was anyone’s guess. You had the feeling it was the latter.

He’d paid the bill after all.

The entirety of it.

You’d wished you’d ordered more.

Afterward a giggling girl took your place in the front seat, you glared at the back of her head from the back seat,

“Ransom.” She whined, leaning over in her seat to press her lips to his neck, “I want you to fuck me.” Lips around his ear, sucking the lobe into her mouth. You shifted your gaze to the window, the city landscape passing your eyes as you’d pulled into another valet parking, a bar this time. A nice one.

Ransom and the bubbly girl from the car ride over slipped hastily into the bathroom, he’d sent you a dark look before leaving you to your own devices. Looking over the cocktail list while sitting uncomfortably on a bar stool while your boss was fucking a girl who’d laughed at you for being a ‘dog’ earlier in the bathroom of a bar that had a $20 old fashioned and their most expensive wine came with a thousand dollar price tag.

“You lost?” Another smirking asshole, sidled up next to you at the bar as you took a sip from the beautifully balanced old fashioned you’d tacked onto Ransom’s tab. He was handsome, the guy bothering you, almost everyone in this room was handsome. The lights low and romantic, candles on every table and across the bar, soft music played from the piano across the room where a man sat gently stroking the melodies to create the ambiance of the room. Close, cozy, romantic, and dark enough to forget yourself in.

“Oh c’mon honey.” The man slipped onto the barstool, thighs spread wide around you as you face away from him, his hand meeting your back. “I can help you find what you’re looking for.” His breath reeked of alcohol. You glanced over at him,

“I’m fine thank you.” Another sip, damn this drink was good. He chuckled, moving in closer, drifting a hand down to your thigh.

“Don’t be like that.” He laughed, “You obviously don’t belong here honey.” His hand traced your bare thigh, “You’ve gotta be wanting some company.”

Ransom had returned face flushed and you could almost see a tiny bit of white on his nose, but it was quickly rubbed away. He sat on the opposite end of the bar, the girl from earlier taking his lap. He looked down at you briefly, he had to have seen how uncomfortable you were, how this guy was breathing down your neck. He ignored it, ordering a drink from the bartender.

“I don’t want any company,” You shoved the man’s hand away, “Have a great night.” He leaned back in his seat, downing his drink before leaning back over to put his face in yours.

“Fucking ugly bitch.” He spat, standing from the stool, “Tryna give you a little charity here, you could've at least been grateful.” You wanted to leave. He shoved your shoulder slightly as he walked away from you, no doubt going to bother some other unsuspecting woman in his radius.

You needed some air, taking the last sip of your drink you’d scooted back from the bar, walking by Ransom to take your exit, walking out into the summer night. It was early summer. It was still only 60 at night. A chill went through you. You hadn’t expected to be out so late, the comfortable denim shorts and old ratty t shirt you’d chosen to wear had obviously been a mistake for this day. Ransom made sure to make you see that.

The bar was on the harbor, and it brought in a breeze that caused goosebumps to rise on your skin. You checked your phone, the battery almost dead. Julia had been texting you periodically, but not as much as you would have liked. You scrolled through the most recent messages, you asking how her trip was going and what she was up to and her stilted replies. She was busy you supposed. She didn’t need you, but right now you really needed her.

This night has been a massive blow to your self-esteem. You’d never felt more ugly and unwanted in your life. You just wanted to go home, but Ransom wasn’t done yet. You looked at him from the window, his fingers were gone between that girl’s thighs, they were both drinking expensive cocktails, completely oblivious to you.

He’d watched you exit, not giving it much thought it seemed, because he hadn’t made any motion to bring the night to a close, but you weren’t really expecting him to. It was Ransom’s world and you were just living in it. You worked for him. And you wondered if this is how every day is going to be from here on out. You really don’t know if you could do this forever, but you knew you didn’t want to go back inside.

So you didn’t.

Thankfully Ransom stumbled out about thirty minutes later, girl from earlier on his arm. “Let’s go.” He said. Valet pulling the beamer around he threw you the keys, “Take me home.”

He sunk down in the back seat, high and drunk. His words almost incoherent. Her’s were no better. They sloppily attacked each other in the back seat, indecently. And you were pointedly looking anywhere but in the rearview. Soft grunts and moans made you uncomfortable for the fourth time that night. Your skin crawling in unease as the girl’s giggles turned into breathy moans. Your foot sunk against the gas pedal in hopes you’d get back to his home faster, tears welling up in your eyes. The cry on the way home was going to be so good. So cathartic.

The gravel crunching against the wheels of the car was a sweet relief, so was the haste in which you left the keys in the car, running and skipped to your own car. His eyes met yours through the darkness as he was leant up against his car door, slacks loose around his hips, the girl’s lips attached to his neck as her hand worked quickly between his thighs. He smirked, waving a sarcastic ‘good-bye’. You turned your eyes to the road, cranking up the radio as you began to cry.

You didn’t want to do this anymore.

A text came through right as you finally laid down in your own bed, snuggling into the covers, ready to forget the night.

See you at 9.

.

.

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