#even if its just like a couple pages plain text

[lokh]

is the dominant and recessive alpha/omega a korean thing

[cagesofgold]

plant dad

leaves that are green - simon and garfunkel 🎧

when you were concerned about your boyfriend's loneliness levels whilst put on a placement for your job out of town, you had no idea your efforts would have this effect.

He had become completely and irrevocably consumed. There were woven baskets with dahlias suspended from the doorways, money trees with thick healthy stems sprouting from rusted pots, and the shadow of a bird of paradise's leaves shrouding the bathroom in a peaceful level of dusk.

Jean had never expressed an interest in nature before. He had a few compositions he'd done for class featuring a clan of withering roses, yet even then he found it less interesting than drawing a card board box.

So, when you came home with a small fairy castle cactus, Jean didn't bat an eyelid, he simply commented on the warm yellow of the flowers standing proudly against the towers of green, and then continued stirring the pot of bubbling pasta.

This is what you had expected of course, but in truth, you knew Jean didn't cope well with being alone, having had the comfort of his mother's gentle humming his entire childhood, and Connie's less comforting humming before he moved in with you.

Although only for three weeks, this would be the longest amount of time you had spent away from Jean, and the longest amount of time he had been by himself. Of course you knew he'd be fine, perhaps just a little bit more clingy after your return, yet still you wanted to leave him a little company when things grew quiet. Of course since your apartment didn't allow pets, you had to settle for a less disruptive method of discreet company.

So you left the cactus, its plain white pot adjacent to the silver tap in the kitchen, with a little sheet of instructions of when to water it.

While away, you texted Jean a handful of times to ensure he was watering it, to which he replied with rather mundane responses like, "Yep." or, "Did it before class."

These responses didn't fill you with confidence, so instead you automatically assumed that your plan had failed, as any individual would.

Except the next day, whilst you sat with your shoulders hunched and body sandwiched between two business men on the subway, you recieved a picture, lighting up your face and making the austere man beside you squint.

It was a picture of the cactus, appearing even more healthy than when you first purchased it from the local market, yet it was the larger figure looming next to it that caught your eye. It was a small moon cactus, stretching upwards with a slight limp, a blood red flower enabling it to appear slightly top heavy. This cactus resided in a black pot, a deep contrast to its lighter counterpart.

"Got her a friend, think they're getting along well. :)"

A smile instantly painted itself onto your face, surprise filling every crevice within you as you typed back,

"Looks like they are :)"

A few days came and went and by now you'd spent about a week and a half at your internship, with only half to go. As you sat at your desk, leafing through a booklet of fabrics for an upcoming collection, your phone buzzed against the desk. Your lock-screen of a picture of Jean filled your view, his tan back facing the camera as he gently pulled his paintbrush across the canvas, a rainbow of paint stains littering his thick forearms. Below this sat a notification, with an attachment from Jean.

You opened the file curiously, waiting a few hesitant moments for it to load, a small circle spiraling around itself before it opened into a web page.

In pink bold letters at the top it read,

MOON AND PRINCESS'S WEDDING

the ecstatic couple would simply be over the, moon, if you could attend the day of which they profess their undying love for each other. Please contact the father of the bride, Jean Kirstein, if you are able to attend.

As you read over the file in confusion, a second text message from Jean came through, bearing a photo of the two cactus standing side by side. The princess castle's previously blank white pot had been transformed into a glittering wedding gown, with a tissue over her head as a makeshift veil, making you giggle. The moon cactus' black pot had become a luxorious tux, with a yellow bow tie to match princess' yellow flowers.

You erupted into laughter, your fingers tapping against the keyboard as you said,

"Tell moon and princess i can't wait."

Over the next week and a half you received copious photos of the new additions to the house, and photographic evidence of Jean's newfound watering can collection that was growing at a concerningly rapid rate.

Part of you was pleased that your plan ended in success, yet you somewhat feared the house you may return to, not fully prepared to weave your way through the newly established jungle.

Yet as you stood in the center of the apartment, surrounded by the loamy smell of soil and the fresh aroma of newly budding flowers, you couldn't help but feel a sense of joy at the tranquil breath of life around you, a rainbow of watering cans of differing sizes running along the top of the kitchen cabinets, with spiky ivy nestled into the chipping windowsills.

"Too much?" Jean asked hesitantly, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind slowly, the hands of which he had tenderly loved the nature around him the past three weeks touching you just as gently.

"It's beautiful, Jean." You smiled.

As you and jean lay in bed that night, tangled up in each other having just ate about as many chicken wings as it would take to feed an army, you felt an immense amount of peace within the fresh air and Jean's loving disposition.

And when Jean suddenly shot up in the middle of the night, the sheets bundling around his carved abdomen, his words didn't surprise you in the slightest, rushing out of the room as he yelled,

"Sorry, babe, i forgot to water the orchids!"

[quailxcrossing]

Oh And Also! Are there any relationship customs in zuistone / revivisence? I know i’ve seen many married tulfurs with special earrings, but i was wondering if there are any other special customs like that between the different species? (Including non-romantic ones!)

YES! yes there are some!!!!!

a lot of Zuistone traditions are remnants of old traditions from the old world they've found pieces of and sorta molded into their own thing or interpreted without context. there's a big job for historians to page through old surviving texts and photos and try to figure out what the heck these old traditions were and if they were even worth holding on to!

weddings in Revive are a bit different; they are always secular, for one! part of the marriage is filling out the form together, in which you get your awesome benefits. its seen as part of the whole process but it is often not included in the celebration!

wedding traditions are more different depending on your location! A Zuistone (the main country most everyone is in) differs from a Pampel wedding.

I'll show you how each wedding is very customizable for each couple, so if a couple wants to incorporate their micafe heritage or celebrate the union between species, that is up to them! There are definitely some small local traditions that might bleed through like that (hopefully that makes sense)

the basic outline for a Zuistone wedding is as follows- (and photos!)

Prepared for the wedding- couples can wear basically whatever they want, but usually its plain, clean, business casual. what is really matters is that they're wearing these big square cloaks. these cloaks are traditionally white, extremely plain. this is important! these cloaks are the main wedding attire, and they are made specifically with weddings in mind.

1. Visiting hours - the couple hosts a get-together with any activities they'd like, but usually it's a social hour. Guests try their best to tack as many flowers, charms, notes, etc.- even paint on, cut up, tastefully decorate, trashily decorate- just add onto the couple's wedding cloaks as possible! What exactly that is depends on the wedding,  the budget, and the couple!

The couple may request "I only want these things, and I have provided them for you" or they may say "please bring whatever you want and do whatever you please!" it's supposed to be a celebration of the couple's place in their community and allow the guests to give gifts (many guests may attach small pouches with rolled up bills, notes, tokens, etc!) Guest involvement is the whole point, the couple is not really supposed to be the ones doing the decorating. But they can if they want! Every couple is different!

2. The meal- after that visiting hour is over, there is usually a meal! in the narrative, this is the couple "giving back" to their friends and family for decorating the cloaks and accepting them as a couple in their community. with food 💖

There's usually room for one more activity here, sometimes things go right to the next step, but sometimes the couple want to have a dancing period that meshes with the meal (you know you've got music going and people can move around before settling down to eat) its not very formal in the tradition, and more elite couples may find this part unimportant)

4.  Marriage ceremony - the actual binding part! One person in the couple will start laying out simple "terms" of the union and ask the other if their terms are accepted. To accept, the other will give up their wedding cloak, and the couple will swap. The ceremonial earrings are already stored in the cuff of the cloak (Person 1 will have been holding Person 2's earring all day, and via versa) and when the earrings are on, the couple is considered socially wed. The gifts they've been gathering all day go to the other person! a kiss is not necessary, but it is fun.

5. Paperwork - if they are filling it out, they try to make it fun and private for the couple, its not a whole lot but its never fun. sometimes a couple will do it before the wedding! but they are not considered socially wed until the cloak exchange.

here's some guys getting married! Spiro and Tai were a bit more choosy about their cloaks, while Runo and Peony were not!

[yingren]

“No, I-I’m okay. It was just a nightmare. Go back to sleep.”

HURT / COMFORT : STARTERS / accepting.

her voice pierces the stillness, sharp and sudden, like scissors slicing through fabric or a blade cutting cleanly through air, drawing all of ren’s attention to the scene beside him. he isn’t asleep, he rarely is these days, but mya doesn’t know that. it’s evident in the startled words that tumble from her lips as she jolts awake, shattering the fragile quiet. for a moment, ren has no response, though the abrupt movement nearly startled him.  

the hunter remains still, seated in the same position, his head turning slightly to assess her reaction. his sharp gaze lingers on her, checking for signs of distress, ensuring that she isn’t in any physical pain. that’s the reason he stayed, after all, an injury she’d sustained had looked serious enough to warrant someone keeping an eye on her. a couple of drinks had sealed the arrangement: she could sleep, and he would wait. well, that wasn’t the whole truth. ren had told her he��d rest too, a small, necessary white lie in the moment. but, as was often the case, he couldn’t sleep. not tonight. not most nights.

“ your nightmares, do they plague you ? ” it isn’t often ren witnesses such a reaction, and perhaps that’s because he so rarely spends his nights in the company of others. for him, the dark hours are usually reserved for solitude, untouched by the presence of another. even his own nightmares, once relentless in jolting him awake, have ceased to manifest in such an abrupt manner. he’s had centuries to grow accustomed to their torment, to endure their horrors as if they were merely another inevitable part of his cursed existence.  

the soft thump of his book snapping shut echoes in the quiet room, and he places it on his lap, shifting his back against the headboard to settle more comfortably. there’s a deliberate distance between him and mya, a careful space he maintains out of respect for her privacy and, admittedly, his own sense of ease. proximity has never been something he actively seeks unless necessity calls for it - a wound to inspect, an injury to mend. beyond that, ren remains content with the distance, unbothered by any lack of closeness.  

that said, mya’s presence is a welcome reprieve from his usual isolation. her company breaks through the silence that often feels deafening, a quiet reminder that he doesn’t always have to endure it alone. there’s a simplicity in her being here, one that ren has come to appreciate in ways he doesn’t often articulate. but as much as he values the space he keeps, he can’t entirely ignore the unease in her sudden movement or the lingering traces of distress etched into her features.  she matters to him now, and because of that, he finds himself unable to look the other way, even if comfort isn’t something he’s often called to offer.

the hunter extends a hand, fingers curling around the edge of the blanket as he gently pulls it higher over her shoulders, a small gesture of comfort from a man who seems more suited to haunt the shadows beneath the bed than to care for the one resting in it. the irony isn’t lost on him, though he doesn’t linger on the thought.  

the moment settles, still and quiet, like an undisturbed pool of water, its surface untouched by even the smallest ripple. ren remains motionless for a beat longer before his attention drifts back to the book resting on his lap. he flips through the pages, finding where he left off, though his eyes skim the text without truly absorbing it. the words blur together, their meaning slipping through the cracks of his distracted mind.  

by morning, he won’t recall a single line, the story as foreign as it was when he first opened the book tonight. but that hardly matters. reading isn’t about comprehension right now - it’s a distraction, plain and simple. one he sorely needs.

“ sleep. the sun isn’t even up yet, you have time. i’ll be here. ”

[ingravinoveritas]

Crowley and Aziraphale always came off as romantic to me; both in the book and in the show. They have so much more chemistry than anyone else. And I always second guess me reading their relationship as romantic when I see the general public's takes. So then I go back over like, okay, if this was a man and a woman, how would this read. They do couple things all the time. They use pet names. The show leans more into pining but in the book it feels like they're already married. Both the narrator and other characters refer to them as a couple and its never contradicted. Is that subtext or just plain text. I wouldn't call it queerbaiting, but queercoding or representation doesn't feel quite right either. Are we reading too much into it or is media literacy dead.

Hi there! Thank you for sharing these thoughts in response to my post from the other day. What you've mentioned here (how this would read if it was a man and a woman) is something I have thought about as well--both in terms of Aziraphale/Crowley and Michael/David, as I have shipped them outside of the show for some time now, and especially given the increasingly fuzzy line between them and the characters (which both Michael and David themselves have talked about in multiple interviews).

I think what we're seeing is neither queerbaiting nor queercoding/representation, but instead a sort of incongruity between what was put on the printed page when Good Omens was first published and what was brought to life on screen when it came to TV. What I mean by that is I often see a lot of people point to the line "gayer than a treeful of monkeys on nitrous oxide" as proof (almost typed "poof" there--hello, Freudian slip...) that Neil/Terry meant for the characters (specifically Aziraphale) to be gay. But from what Neil has said, the main intention here was for this to be a play on words--so, "gay" as in homosexual, but also "gay" as in happy, which was the original meaning of the term. I'm then led to think that in the minds of two cishet men in the late 1980s, "gayness" conjured a particular, unserious image, which they then brought into the writing.

Fast-forward to thirty years later, and you have Good Omens finally becoming a television show. Terry Pratchett (Gnu) had sadly left us, and so the task fell to Neil to write the screenplay and honor Terry's last wish by faithfully adapting the story. And while Neil wisely decided to cast Michael for his goodness and angelic-like nature, what I think he didn't count on was Michael's long-held beliefs and ideas about the character of Aziraphale and how he would portray him, or his profound penchant for playing numerous queer characters over the last several decades. The gayness of Aziraphale on the written page was something that Neil could control, but he couldn't control the gayness of Aziraphale as interpreted by Michael.

So that led to Neil having to address some things that I don't think he was quite prepared to address, both about the show and inside himself. Mainly, that if we are to extrapolate that what we see in season 1 is a reflection (to some degree, anyway) of Neil's views on relationships, a straight couple with little to no chemistry can jump into bed together without any hesitation, but a gay couple with tremendous chemistry and who share a deep and profound connection can't express that, either physically or by simply saying "I love you."

Much discussion has been made about how it's not necessary for someone to say "I love you" to convey such a sentiment. But what I've noticed missing from this discourse is the age/experience of anyone who has been in a relationship where that wasn't said (or conveyed) by one partner and how painful that was for the other partner. And as I mentioned in my other post, even once gay/queer people started to exist in media, they still weren't allowed to fall in love. (The phrase "the love that dare not speak its name" even came into being because of this taboo, for crying out loud.)

So when we then look at the countless tweets from Neil about how Good Omens is a love story while considering the vastly different ways in which that love is regarded when it's straight vs. when it's gay, his words start to ring somewhat hollow. And if he repeatedly has to emphasize that something is a love story, then maybe it isn't coming across as a love story in the way he thinks it is. Maybe Neil being more comfortable with casual, meaningless sex than a deep commitment speaks to a larger issue on his part. Or maybe Neil was fine with the abstract idea of a gay love story, but suddenly less comfortable with the concrete, three-dimensional reality of it.

If I had to use a word to describe it, then, from a media/cultural standpoint, I think I would call it "queerplaying," which I would define as roleplaying queerness on a surface level without actually delving into the complexity and messiness of what it actually means to be a queer/non-cishet human being. (To be clear, I am applying this to the writing/the original GO text, not to what Michael and David ultimately brought to the roles as actors.)

I hope this all makes sense. Again, the second season could come out tomorrow/Friday and prove me completely wrong about everything I've just said here, which would be wonderful. But I'm glad that other people have felt similarly about what we saw (or didn't see) in the first season, and the disconnect between the perceptions of fans/the perception of the public vs. Neil's authorial intent. Thanks for writing in! x

[siesffuts]

Witch Hat Atelier Speculation-Tartah ingested silver when he was younger in order to become a witch

I'm only on chapter 22 of WHA, so I figure this has already been touched on by now. But fuck it. Im'a text my piece regardless.

So when I saw this panel on pg. 19 of ch. 13, I was immediately curious if argentosis was a real condition. First result I got was a page on Wiktionary which explained that it's an alternate form of the Latin word argentosus which means "full of silver, silvery, silver-bearing". This seemed to partially line up with what Qifrey says on pg. 26 of the same chapter. "[It] is an affliction of the eyes. From the moment you are born, everything appears as if it's enveloped in a silvery sheen."

That didn't quite answer my question, so after going through a couple more search results, it was not commonly used but it did lead me to a wikipedia article on something with a different name. Another relevant find was a Quora page which described the same condition just with a different name across different websites. What I could glean is that the term is perhaps an outdated, less commonly or incorrectly used substitute term for Argyria. The National Library of Medicine states that it is a "... dermatologic condition that is acquired by exposure to or ingestion of silver, and it presents with the insidious onset of gray or blue mucocutaneous discoloration." Can't speak for anyone else, but the first time me and several of my peers had heard of it was via Paul Karason in science class if I recall correctly.

However it's plain to see the kid doesn't have any noticeably discolored skin anywhere, so the more relevant term for Tartah would be Argyrosis, or Ocular Argyrosis more specifically as that and Argyria are used interchangeably by some. That NCBI article I mentioned earlier lists it as one of the 3 subtypes along with generalized argyria and localized argyria. Unfortunately I couldn't find anything to indicate there's any correlation between it and a difficulty or inability to see color.

Since that's the end of the real-world information I could obtain, my proposal is a simple one. Back in chapter 5, we're told the importance of silver trees in regards to their unique importance as the only way to get magic ink, and that they can poisonous which is semi-similar to how silver is slightly toxic in our slightly less fantastical and scary world. My idea is that Tartah in someway ingested or came into contact with either a branch of a tree or some of its byproduct to help himself become a witch. This makes a bit more sense to me from a narrative standpoint. What I mean is that in trying to further his dream, in a way he hindered himself in one of the most detrimental ways he could've considering how highly valued eyesight is, and how little tolerance witches at large have for deviants and exceptions as Qifrey states in the chapter where we learn about Tartah's circumstances mentioned above. While I don't envy him and think it's misplaced to call him lucky, it does position him to challenge the rules which are so set in stone that even the mere existence of people like Coco poses a threat to collapse Witch society entirely. But that's all I got for now your they's gotta eat.

If anyone out there who's more knowledgeable than I on the real world science of the subject, as well as the significance of silver from an alchemy standpoint, would care to prove, disprove, or elaborate on anything I've put forth so far

(WITHOUT SPOILERS)

I'd greatly appreciate it.

[unforgottcn]

regards to @bikmui.

from here.

Yone would spend the next couple of hours attempting to fall asleep; unable to dream as thoughts raced through his mind like scared sheep. He'd be halfway to dreamland when the phone makes its chirp, and he's sitting up, reading the message.

...Just a social media notification greets him, however.

Where were they, and why haven't they replied? The more he thought about refreshing webpages for news on them, the more he desired to resort to calling Bikmui's father, and ask what the hell happened to them. But that'd be weird, right? Yone comes to the decision not to call him after all. Knowing how their father was, he wouldn't have said much, regardless. Not like Yone had been around in a few years in order to warrant a single moment of his time... Besides, the old man probably doesn't care what the other has to say about his child's health, anyway.

By the time he's back in the hotel a couple of hours later, he realizes he's still damp from rain, so he changes his clothing: slacks and a plain white shirt. Yone grabs his phone before he goes out, so that way if they needed to, they could call him anytime.

The rest of the day is... Quiet.

He makes sure he at least looks presentable, and if he were to run into paparazzi- he throws on his black cap. He stands there for quite sometime, thinking, trying to rationalize his racing thoughts. He doesn't bother leaving his room yet as he refreshes the google page once more. Just in case it would say "artist found dead"- it never happens, which he silently thanks the gods above for.

He sends a message before he leaves the hotel in Kyoto. Then and only then to see the three texts that they had sent less than two hours ago. He feels so relieved, and thankful to see the little text bubbles that say they'll meet later... Still, his heart remains uneasy- and knowing how much more relieved it would be to just call them and find out- he's far too shy to do that, especially now that he's not in a panic. No longer doused in anxiety- but still just as worried as ever for them and their health. He wonders if they had even ate anything today. He wonders if they still liked to drink, or if they still liked popping pills. Silently, he hopes they are the same- and even if they aren't, well. Yone would still feel the same way for them, as he always did: in love.

How unbearably torturous to love someone, and never being able to tell them outright.

Yone sends a voice message this time, voice ringing out softly but stern- hoping he doesn't show his true colors, burning red: "Call me later. I'll be setting up a private jet for you later tonight." He reaches into his chest for strength. "...And... If you want, you can join me on the last show of the tour." Yone's voice suddenly turns sweet as he continues to speak, attempting not to let the floodgate of emotions fall through- but clearly, his usually stoic tone falls short, gets higher- and he doesn't realize the tears of happiness pass by him until he hangs up.

"I'm glad you're okay... I'll uh-" He clears his throat, voice now low again. "I'll see you soon. Take care."

Hesitantly, he releases the button- and his message goes through not a second later. Afterall, he knows he can fly there and be back with no trouble- and Yone is very punctual about things when it comes to the one he adores. The minute their show is over, he hops onto the plane- pays no mind to the way discomfort pools in his stomach at the thought of them not being home- or having someone else in their bed.

Less than a couple hours later, he's rapping on a door; cap pulled over his eyes, hands shaking as he realizes: 'it's been so long, do they even remember my face?' He cannot help but ask himself silently if they would still smile at his jokes, or if they'd make a sour face upon seeing him. Even hearing their voice would be enough for him, but it isn't- the phone call proved it.

He worries so deeply about what they think of him- that he removes his hat, and fixes his hair in the reflection of the doorknob. Dark streaks hang at his waist as he knocks once more with feeling.

[lumidark166]

New Kid (Rewrite) Headcanons cause why not lol

This is my new kid in TSOT

IN TFBW, this is my new kid look and his character sheet Credit to @lolliepops-rox for this edit, thank you so much!!

This gonna be full-on rambling I'm sorry Eka's full name is Eka Widjaya Pratama but he always uses a short version cause the full one makes him look plain Indonesian lol

Eka in tsot, he somewhat freaks out because the town is crazy and weird, but he feels comfortable that now he finally made friends after so long his family moved town to town so much that he hasn't made friends He has selective mutism, which causes anxiety but after that, he feels more comfortable saying a few words to speak, but when he suddenly can't speak, he usually texts or uses cards to speak cause the kids and the adults probably can't understand what he said in sign language and Cartman will make fun of him.

speaking of Cartman, Eka never anyone his real name cause of Cartman, he is not afraid of Cartman, he just doesn't want his anxiety to make it more troublesome if Cartman spread that his name is shit like gossip and his progress to speak more will reduce to square one again His vocabulary is just 'dude' cause how much he spends time with Kyle and Stan Eka just doesn't care, everyone, calls him douchebag, buttlord, etc, he just thinks it's funny cause he likes to make fun of himself and make smelly farts all of the time lmao-

He is like when tfbw gives him time farts "Fart now can time bend shit, fuck yeah THIS IS MY MC ERA" like he doesn't think tsot also in his mc era

Creek couple for some reason 'adopted' new kid beside Stripe, Eka is confused about wtf is going on until Tweek spoiled him so much lmao Eka is like "My real parents are shit so Tweek and Craig is my parents now" that didn't age well in tfbw for a while tho-

Being a hero with an assassin class, he uses SHARP ace of spades cards instead of knives cause he was inspired by a cartoon show of spies/ agents that used cards lol

when the start of tfbw, Eka is kinda bored and curious wtf is this game they are playing that is so important that they ditch Eka and the other kids. then when Cartman asked what are your class, Eka immediately takes his notebook, and make one page of the class he wants and skill he wants also describing the weakness so cartman can't do his class type picker thing cause Eka knew Cartman gonna make fun of him. why one page? cause Eka knew if he was too invested he gonna make it 10 pages instead lmao

Eka doesn't care about the timeline of the movies when the two franchises hate their methods so much that they split up but He ONLY cares about the angst, after they got together as one franchise, Dr.Timothy asks origin story of Ace of Spades aka New Kid Hero Name, then he wrote in google doc of 40k draft origin story and send it to the freedom pals gc chat and he texted

Butthole: So if there want changes somethings let me know *Thump_up* I don't think they see Eka the same way after he wrote that shit in 15 minutes, 40k in 15 minutes lmao also, they cried hard cause its so much angst, they never gonna survive because Eka is an angst enthusiast ofc he gonna make it unnecessarily sad for no reason (edited) The freedom pals meet and discussing it about the franchise timeline, till making it a yelling battle

"What if there is angst on the table guys, angst bring entertainment you know" Eka only speak only in that meeting and never said anything again in other meetings

Freedom Pals stare at him confused while the former coon and friends are terrified Even Super Craig was like "Oh my god, I forgot about Butthole origin story- Fuck, guys… never make New Kid the main writer if there gonna be casting" Mosquito even start crying, yeah Eka traumatized them for dear life lmao

The new kid wrote his superhero persona as a self-destructive, self-sacrifice hero, he even tried to suggest that he want to lose his arm when the situation of one of Eka's parents need to sacrifice for Mephesto thing but luckily, Craig talks it out to him into not doing that, Eka is silly but idiot bitch

Eka play Stick of Truth and superhero game as the distraction of his home but because Cartman and others play superhero now, he instantly joins so he can peacefully forget about his parents being shit Reactions to them about NK skill, spin slash

"What is that... cards?, pfft that not gonna hurt me-" Then New Kid threw a few cards at Tupperware and the cards almost got into Tupperware's head, it goes through the helmet

"Okay, who dare it's okay the New Kid play with sharp things.." A very concerned and angry Wonder Tweek being a mom "Shut up, New Kid doesn't need to be babied" (Super Craig) 'Why are you my emotional dad figure again…' Eka is disappointed lmao

Eka is also a style shipper but he is kinda tired of them talking about the bigger franchise but then again he doesn't care about franchises so- He was like " YOU GUYS ARE SO STUPID, YOU GUYS CAN BE STILL FRIENDS FFS, CAN YOU GUYS LEAVE COON" But because of his mutism, he can't say shit

Eka is sick of Coon and his bs and also wants to unalive him for a couple of reasons but he realized that not worth the hassle cause he knows it's gonna bite him in the ass if Cartman revenge on the new kid

in the finale of mitch conner's fight, Eka made his arm almost broken cause he is sick of Coon bs he just said "You know what, you already traumatized me killing my own father, so I am gonna give you a taste of REAL pain" which is he is not holding back and almost break Cartman left hand

Eka's best friends are Kenny and Butters, blonde boys and also Butters's protection squad Remember a photo in butters parents' room? Eka blackmailed Stephen to use that photo, to put it on Coonstagram so Butters don't ground for a long time About Kenny and Eka hc, they are inseparable until a superhero game made them distant In fact in civil war fight, Mysterion mostly target Eka for no reason "You join the wrong side, New Kid" "THEN WHY YOU DIDNT TELL ME, YOU UNDERWEAR HERO ASSHOLE bangsat anjing nih anak" translation: son of a bitch

he whispered cussing in Indonesian in the last ones cause he was that angry- "Dude, I think he pissed.." Toolshed noticed when Eka is angry is not a good thing "I guess our intel that New Kid willingly join Coon and Friends is fake" D.Timothy usual telepathy thing

also the twist here, Eka becomes a quadruple agent, instead of spying for coon and friends he was like "Nope, I wanna know wtf is cartman going with this shit and I am not gonna get blamed for his shit"

after the couple's counseling, Eka get beaten and the couple just looks at Eka, "You know what, let's do this together.. for Butthole" After that they eat at McDonald's cause Tweek spoils Eka like a child lmao

after civil war 2, freedom pals found a notebook belonging to Eka but it's nothing special.

cause it's a drawing vent book that he draws mostly circles and notes from school and a weird list of items which is 100 glue, 20 tortillas and etc it's for crafting but he didn't write the context what is it for so they are so confused about what it meant "Look is New Kid okay? the book on the back of the cover it's said it's a vent book, but why the hell are there so many circles and this weird list??.." Toolshed concerned "As much I hate New Kid mentally ill and need therapy jokes (affectionate).. he needs therapy" (Tupperware)

One day, Eka found his confidence and tell his real name cause new kid doesn't feel like gonna be a long thing and probs confused with other new kid/exchange students so crack hc : Eka write fanfic of their superhero persona, especially Bunny but its enemies to lovers mysterion and Chaos cause in canon, chaos has WALL of mysterion pics Eka see that in tsot was like "… fruity"

Eka also does cover songs but in vtuber style where the cover/mv has lore animation so it gives a hint to his origin story he realizes singing makes him forget his anxiety, so he gives a message with his singing instead

Oh yeah also, Eka is kinda Kyle 2.0 but more emotional like Stan, he is just Kyle 2.0 cause he second person to fight Cartman constantly lol, At the start of the fight usually Eka gives him a really BAD fart lol

"Wha hey, Douchebag what that for?!" Cartman is angry at the Eka, apparently, he talks shit about his country's people being overproud Eka just stare at him blankly but he put a card that quote "Come at me, bitchboy" Ofc Eka won that easily, he kick him in the stomach hard that he vomit. Probably shouldn't watch too much Kamen Rider cause Rider Kicks lmao-

"Mampus lu" then he just walked away

"I don't know what that means but I am prouuud of our kid" (Craig) "It's mean 'deserved' but that doesn't mean New kid is your child, Craig" (Wendy)

Eka uses this to communicate sometimes when his phone is dead or doesn't have a notebook on him

Eka usual wear in TFBW

And that it lol, this is long post lmao

[lavenderbexlatte]

shameless ch 1: breathless

stray kids  5.5k words female reader insert Reader x Lee Felix SFW

🖤 warnings: realistic idol!au, questionable power dynamics, idol/fan interactions, unresolved tension, deep/mature themes. this chapter is fluff so enjoy it while it lasts~ 🖤

Series Masterlist

connect with me! / masterlist

🕷 you 🕷

Felix texts you back.

It takes a couple days, but he does. You’d replied to his first message, back at that café when you were still sitting face to face, and then the chat had gone radio silent. Which makes plenty of sense, given the circumstances. It’s not like you expected rapid-fire conversation from someone who you spoke to for less than thirty minutes in extremely unusual circumstances, but you hoped.

And eventually, he texts you back.

felix lee: hey 🤗 you: hi! felix lee: i was wondering felix lee: if you’d wanna hang out next weekend?

Hang out? With Felix? Now? Already?

You look down at your phone, disbelieving. Does he know who he’s messaging, right now? You’re just the girl from the coffee shop. The fan from the coffee shop.

But he’s offering. And you’re not stupid. You know what to say.

you: i mean, yeah! of course! felix lee: omg great felix lee: is sunday okay? felix lee: if it’s easier, we can meet over here you: at your place?

It feels impossibly weird and far too familiar to refer to his shared apartment as ‘the dorm’ directly to him. So you don’t.

felix lee: yeah why not? :3 you: let’s meet wherever we’re going you: you kinda live far from me…

That’s not a lie, but your hesitation is about much, much more than simple distance. You’re not about to show up at the dorm on a random weekend. You can’t. You couldn’t. You’re not even sure you could stomach knowing where it is.

The fact that he doesn’t even seem to be concerned about what he’s doing, inviting you to his so casually, fills you with equal parts dread and elation.

felix lee: mmm good point 😅 felix lee: where should we go? you: you like desserts right? there’s a place i saw on instagram you: just off garosugil, they make brownies and stuff

He texts back so quickly. It makes your head spin. Why would he care this much?

You send the link to the bakery’s Instagram page. You’d been meaning to go there anyway, and this is a perfect opportunity. It seems shallow to say so to him, so you won’t, but Garosu-gil is a perfect place for a celebrity to hide in plain sight. It’s already full of beautiful people, bustling with preoccupied college students dressed to the nines (as far as their budgets will take them) and far less preoccupied families out for a day among the high-end cafes and boutiques.

It’s just the right kind of place to lose yourself with Felix.

And he agrees, if the several excited emojis that he sends mean anything.

felix lee: omg looks so cute -3- felix lee: is 2pm okay??? i dnt wake up early… you: of course! felix lee: lets meet at the station then felix lee: sinsa stn? you: yes! see you then? felix lee: see you sunday!!

It’s as easy as that.

You have plans with Felix.

Which is all well and good until the day itself arrives. You manage to get through your work week as if nothing is different, as if it’s just a week, filling your days with tasks and meals and the nonsense of the mundane.

And then Sunday comes around, like it was always going to, and you find yourself panicking.

What do you wear?

How early should you be?

Is he actually going to show up?

The questions answer themselves, as if the universe is taking it easy on you for once.

A nice jacket that you bought only recently, a soft collar and buttoned pockets, falls off its hanger when you open the wardrobe, so that’s what you put on with your autumn uniform of jeans and sneakers and something sleeveless in case it gets too warm (which, in a city full of elderly folks who begin turning on the heat as soon as October hits, weather be damned, is often).

When you arrive at the nearest subway station to your apartment, the jingle that announces an incoming train plays just as you descend the stairs to the platform. The doors slide open as you walk up, and there’s an open seat on the end of a row, so you settle in for the ride. You’re going to be perfectly on time, if your transfer trains arrive when they should.

You’re early, actually.

You get off at Sinsa Station at 1:50, a respectable ten minutes early, you find a bench just beyond the turnstiles, between a vending machine and a potted plant, and you wait.

People-watching is an easy time-waster, so that’s what you do, as you lounge on that bench.

The girls in their camel-colored trenchcoats and ankle boots, coming in groups of three and four and five to shop together. Fall means a certain set of fashion looks come back into style, and nowhere is that more apparent than here, in the fashion capital of Gangnam. You look down at your scuffed sneakers with more than a touch of self-consciousness.

The preppy men, in their crisp shirts and slacks, and the street-casual men in their matching-set sweatsuits emblazoned with designer logos and ugly shoes that cost a month’s paycheck. You wonder how Felix will dress, if it’ll be the kind of clothes that you think he wears on a normal day out, or if he’ll look like these men meeting their dates, with neat lapels and preserved bouquets from the streetcorner florists.

And as for whether Felix will show, well.

He scares you out of your wits by doing just that.

“Hey!”

Right in front of you, that face. Freckles peeking over the edge of a mask, blonde hair half-flattened under the hood of an expensive sweatshirt.

“Hi,” you say, trying to pretend you didn’t just jump out of your skin.

“Did I startle you?” he asks, sheepish.

“Only a little.”

“You must have been thinking hard,” he says. “What about?”

You glance him over, looking up at his lithe frame in its oversized hoodie, just one person out of the dozens milling around the station. Just so ordinary. You’re still sitting, so he towers over you in a way that he doesn’t when you’re both standing. It’s an odd feeling.

“Fall clothes,” you say, finally.

It’s not a lie, is it?

“Clothes?” he repeats.

You nod. “Yeah. Just. Y’know. Fall fashion.”

“We’re going to a good place for that,” he says, voice low, as if he’s letting you in on a secret.

He’s cute. You smile. You can’t help it.

“Lucky me.”

-----

You’re nervous.

That’s why you’re scanning the walls, avoiding awkward eye contact and trying not to let your anxiety show on your face or in the fidgeting of your hands as you climb onto the escalator behind Felix. You talked at that bench for a few more minutes, until he suggested that the two of you head outside and find the café.

A banner ad catches your eye as it flashes bright colors across the surrounding tiled wall. You glance over the familiar face that peers at you in heavily-filtered high resolution, at the name and date underneath, and…huh.

“Late,” you mutter to yourself.

“What?”

Felix glances down at you curiously over the curve of his shoulder, and you feel your cheeks heat up, embarrassed. You hadn’t realized he was listening that closely.

“Nothing,” you say.

“No, really, what?” he repeats, grinning.

You point wryly across the escalator bay at the digital advertisement on the opposite terminal wall, and Felix follows your finger until he’s looking at it, too.

“That ad is still running,” you say.

It’s not a big deal, just a birthday advertisement bought out by some fansite for their pet idol. Felix scrutinizes the cheerful rainbow birthday message for a second, before it changes to a different ad entirely, and then he nods like he’s suddenly understood.

“And his birthday is already past,” you add, maybe needlessly. “So I was just…it’s late. The ad is up late.”

“Who even is that?” Felix asks.

You glance at him. “Yangyang. From…from NCT?”

“I’ve probably seen him before,” he shrugs delicately.

You don’t push the matter. No, on the contrary, you’re suddenly very, very conscious of the fact that you’ve just shown your hand a little bit more. You had been honest with Felix, during that first meeting, but telling him generally that you’re interested in the industry and letting him see the truth of your indulgence are two very different things.  

So you let it go, and eventually the two of you reach the street above.

“What’s the name of the café, again?” Felix asks you, as you fall into step side by side, heading toward the mouth of the shopping district.

“Coorownie?” you try. “Coo-row-nie. Like cookie-brownie.”

“That’s cute,” he says.

You shrug. “They make little half-and-half things. Cookie dough on the bottom and brownie on the top.”

“Think they’re better than mine?” he asks, mischievous.

For longer than is strictly necessary, you consider acting like you don’t know that he bakes. The question is on the tip of your tongue – “oh, you make cookies?” – but you choke it back. You don’t even know why you think about it. What good would it do?

You feel like you’re walking a minefield of your own creation, withheld truths and potential lies at every turn.

“Maybe better quality,” you say, and you can’t help but grin when he pouts, “But I’m sure you bake ‘em out of love, not for profit, so that means yours are better overall.”

“Serious answer,” he quips.

“It’s a serious topic.”

Phone in hand for directions, you lead the way around the corner onto the shopping street. Chilly wind whips down the road, crisp from the way that it blows off the river in the distance. But the sun is warm, and the rustling of the drying orange leaves above is pleasant, and you’ve got Felix at your elbow, impossible to forget.

You just walk, peaceful, until you find the place. It’s a piece of basement real estate, technically, just below street level with wide windows that open up to the street above. The outside is wood paneling painted a rich green color, distinctly European and elegant.

“Oh, it is cute,” Felix says, sounding delighted.

“Look at all the lace,” you say, peering through the open door at the tables decorated with platters of sweets on top of lacy doilies, “Grandma-chic or what?”

The bakery is crowded inside, every rickety table filled with patrons, so Felix suggests you buy some pastries and sit outside to try them, and you agree.

Choosing what to buy is a battle of its own.

“We have to get the classic,” Felix says, as he scoops an enormous pre-cut brownie onto one of the bakery’s ceramic serving plates. “Just to say we had it. Then, what do you like?”

You eye the trays and trays of sweets. The devil’s food cake looks tempting, but it’s not one of the titular brownies. There’s a seasonal cinnamon chai thing, but there’s only one slice left and it’s fallen over sideways.

“The cheesecake brownie?” you suggest.

Felix nods, and he holds out the plate so you can carefully slide another huge slab of brownie beside the first.

The young woman at the counter is harried but polite in her neat green apron, and she barely even acknowledges either of you as she glances over the sweets and rings up the total.

You hand over your bank card before Felix can, and he shoots you a look. He asked you out, which means that maybe he feels like he should be treating you, but you’re you, and he’s him. You’re gonna pay for the food.

He doesn’t press the matter, anyway.

There’s a plain wooden bench outside the building, up at street level, so that’s where you settle down side by side to try the desserts.

Instagram did not lie to you: the sweets are delicious. You can tell by the way that Felix’s face lights up at the first bite, his mask hooked under his chin, by the way he turns the brownie around and offers you the other corner to try for yourself. And then you know for sure.

You try not to dwell for too long on the fact that you just directly shared food with Felix.

“You know all the good cafes,” he says, sounding genuinely impressed.

“I really love coffee,” you reply.

“Radio M, and now this place, I’m serious.”

“I also just really love Radio M, I go there a lot.”

“I think you only like green buildings,” Felix teases.

It takes you a second, but you’re flattered at his memory when you understand. Both cafes are painted green, different shades on the outside and the inside.

“That’s totally not true!” you reply.

“Only the green ones,” he repeats, trying and failing for solemn as he laughs at himself. “You’ll only go inside ‘em. I bet your place is green, too. I bet you take line 2 everywhere, and the little neighborhood buses.”

“Oh my God.”

“If it’s your favorite, it’s green,” he insists, ridiculous.

You shrug, grinning at him. “I dunno. JYP is blue.”

He laughs. It was too honest, it was just a hair’s breadth from being entirely too much to have said out loud, but he laughs. You laugh with him.

And just like that, you’re not nervous anymore.

The rest of the evening is spent wandering the outlet stores that line Garosu-gil. It’s not shopping so much as it is window-shopping, but it’s still exceptionally interesting to do it with him.

You had expected – and dreaded – more raised eyebrows, more half-aware glances directed toward Felix as he moved through the public sphere. You had assumed that more people would be like you: able to pick out a celebrity across the room, bold enough to say something.

But that’s not the case.

It’s just not. You don’t know how, or why, but that’s not the case. Nobody, save for the auntie leaning against the glass wall of a random bus stop who tells Felix that he’s very handsome, says a single thing.

And it’s not like you’re being subtle, or hiding, as you make your way up and down the street. There are dozens of stores, and you visit nearly all of them. The Lush and its overwhelming colors and scents, the 8 Seconds (which is disappointing), the Godiva outlet just to smell the fresh chocolates. He takes you into the MLB store for a look at the garish new F/W line, and you return the favor now as you drag him into ALAND.

“I need new hoodies,” you insist, as you climb the slanted stairs that lead into the multilevel flagship store.

“You’ll spend a lot on hoodies here,” he says.

“So?”

“So, you can get hoodies cheaper.”

You glance at him. “It’s okay, I can afford-”

“I mean,” he interrupts slyly, “Stealing mine is cheaper, right?”

You nearly trip over a display. He steadies you with a hand on your shoulder, and you’re hyperaware of every stupid centimeter of yourself as you wander further into the store with him. He doesn’t let go, either.

“I guess it is,” you say finally, feeling something strange in the pit of your stomach, maybe like butterflies. “I guess it is.”

🦋 him 🦋

She buys a hoodie, after a lot of deliberating and hemming and hawing that has Felix grinning to himself like an idiot the entire time.

“I just don’t need another pullover!” she says, for what must be the eighth time. “I love pullovers but I have too many. I need one with a hood.”

“You said that, yeah,” he replies.

He wonders if his face looks as fond as he feels in the center of his chest, as she pulls out sweatshirt after sweatshirt from the racks that hang from the ceiling far above her head. Her cute fluster when he made that crack about stealing his hoodies was more than he could have wished for, a great reaction to a line that would have earned him a slug on the shoulder from any of his friends. On her, it works like flirting, like a line like that was meant to work.

She weaves between the rows, holding an armful of sweatshirts that she’s furiously comparing, and he just follows, watching her work.

“A medium in the NGC is, like, the large in the Marc Gonzales,” she grumbles, holding a lilac hoodie against a grey one in dismay.

She’s so focused. It’s just so cute.

“Designers are like that,” he says.

She nearly drops one of the hangers as she turns to look at him, all but pouting. “That’s true but it doesn’t mean I have to like it. Sizes should mean something!”

“I can hold some of those,” he offers.

“Oh, I can handle it,” she says, and promptly knocks two of the sweatshirts out of her arms, the hangers clattering loudly on the laminate floor.

Felix quirks an eyebrow at her, and she sheepishly hands him the rest of the clothes in her arms and leans down to pick up the fallen ones. They’re warm from being pressed against her, and it’s something like intimacy to carry them himself like that.

Things she’s going to wear. Things she’s tried on already.

He doesn’t know why it feels so poignant.

It’s almost a relief when she picks out her favorite hoodie from the choices in his arms and they head to the checkout. For a split second he considers handing over his own card to pay, since she bought the desserts they shared earlier, but it seems like it’s too soon for that.

She’d probably say no. Actually, considering how forward she’s been with him since their first meeting, she might even take offense. Like she can’t take care of herself, or something. And she obviously can.

Felix might be overthinking this.

She’s just a person. But that’s part of the problem.

He has no idea how to handle this. How to talk to this girl who’s just…a girl. He thought he could do it. But now that they’re just shopping, out in public, alone together, he can’t help but watch his back. His image training has him peeking around corners for telescoping lenses, keeping his hood pulled as low as possible over his face even though he’d rather let her see him.

She almost certainly wants to be out with Felix the Human Being, not Felix the Off-Duty Idol. If only he could figure out how to be that.

They leave the store one paper shopping bag heavier, back into the crispness of the dwindling afternoon.

“We’ve eaten and we’ve shopped,” Felix says.

She laughs gently. “True, and true.”

“What do you wanna do next?”

There are plenty of places around here for dinner, if she wants to stay out longer. Or the river is pretty close, it would be easy to head over there and walk by the waterfront.

“Let’s just walk around here for a while, since we’re already here,” she suggests, as if she can hear his thoughts.

“Sounds good,” says Felix. “It’s been a while since I’ve come to this area.”

It’s been quite a while. Felix had forgotten that so much of Sinsa (and Cheongdam…and Hakdong…and the rest of Gangnam) is all rolling hills and sudden slopes. They traipse up a few of them, sharp inclines with apartments and businesses built jaggedly to the contours of the earth.

And then they round a bend, at a place in the concrete jungle that’s a little flatter, and while Felix adjusts his hood around his face, she stops.

He stops, too.

She’s staring up a white and grey building with beehive paneling, with eyes that he swears are actually sparkling, analytical and alive.

“What?” he asks.

She points up at the jutting top of the building. “It’s just…neat.”

He looks. There’s a logo, in block letters. PNATION.

It’s an entertainment company. PSY’s, if he remembers his trivia correctly. She’s staring like that at an entertainment company? She remembers what he does for work, right?

“The building?” he asks, considering that maybe it’s the architecture itself, or something.

She shakes her head, and he waits for a second.

“The fact that it’s…” she trails off. “Just here. And I can see it.”

It feels like an odd thing to say, but then again, Felix is pretty well acquainted with the idea that idol companies just kind of…exist. In public. He thinks for a second about her joke, that quip she dropped back at the brownie café, about loving JYPE as much as she loves her bakeries and cafes. She must not have been kidding.

Well, obviously not, he thinks. She told him flat-out that she’s a fan. It shouldn’t be a surprise that she thinks the companies are cool. She’s not doing anything, or saying anything. She’s just looking.

She grins. He can see the way her eyes crinkle up, the way her mask flexes over her cheeks. It’s completely for herself, too. She doesn’t even look at him, and she grins like that.

And then she keeps walking.

“That is kinda neat,” Felix agrees gently.

The look that she gives him, partially over her shoulder as she sets out in front of him a bit, is one that he can’t read, all wide eyes and silence. But Felix doesn’t mind. He just speeds up to fall into step with her, and off they go.

🕷 you 🕷

Despite your own expectations, based on your knowledge of yourself and your awkwardness and all your flaws, the day goes extremely well.

You think so, anyway.

You were pretty open. You were honest, you didn’t hold back the potentially embarrassing things that come to mind as you move through your day. As much as you could, you treated it like a normal date with a normal person.

And it was a date. Felix says so.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun on a date.”

You’re by the turnstiles, back in the station after your little walk, and Felix has been lingering by your side even though the two of you have to go home in opposite directions. The glow on his face makes your heart thud in your chest, and you just gaze back at him.

“Although,” he adds, “I don’t know when I went on a date, last…maybe never.”

“I’m glad,” you tell him. “I had fun, too.”

It feels too weak for exactly how much you enjoyed yourself.

“I hate to take off like this again, but I really shouldn’t be out for too long,” Felix says, apology heavy in his voice.

“We made plans at a certain time for a reason, right?” you answer.

“I can still want to stay out longer,” he replies.

“But you shouldn’t.”

“I shouldn’t,” he agrees, and it’s almost a relief, as he checks his phone and apologizes again.

Felix gets on his train, and you get on yours.

You stay at the turnstiles until his figure disappears out of sight down the stairs to the platform, but once there’s no other choice, you do get on your own train and head for home.

But for once, walking into your apartment isn’t the soft contentment of coming home.

Your posters are there to greet you. Your albums, your pictures, the merchandise that hides among the books and homewares.

And they stand out like sores to your eyes that have been seeing the real thing all day long.

How empty they are. How little the glossy headshots compare to the charm of a real smile, the gentle brush of real expensive perfume and the warmth of a person by your side. It feels pointless, now, to have these things at all, to even indulge in a hobby that is also within your reach as a reality.

You wonder when that feeling will go away.

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

The next time you see Felix in person is at a noodle house on the top floor of a department store.

Hiding in plain sight seems to be the name of the game, and a chain restaurant that serves knife noodles with more side dishes than strictly necessary is about as a plain sight as it gets. He actually offered to come to your side of town, for the second outing (you refuse to say ‘date,’ at least in your own head – it seems simply too good to be true), so the two of you hole up in the Lotte nearest your place.

The two of you eat, and walk the seemingly endless expanse of outlets afterwards. It’s simple in the way that your last date was: as if there’s nothing out of the ordinary with someone like him being out with someone like you.

You pointedly look away from every contact lens advertisement featuring the girls from Itzy, and you nearly trip over a baby carriage when you catch a glimpse of one of the Monsta X guys on a jacket display, but it’s not terrible.

Felix doesn’t seem to notice.

And even if he does, it doesn’t stop him from going to a brunch place near Namsan the week after. Or from going to a movie with you in the middle of the week after that.

Truly, the next time you worry is the day at the end of the month when it pours rain and you’re running low on fun money and the only truly pleasant idea for a date is a night in.

A night in, which means going to someone’s house. And you still refuse to visit the dorm.

Which means your place.

Your place, which you have not changed at all despite the itching feeling that maybe you should. It crosses your mind to cancel the date altogether because of the weather, but Felix sends you a selfie, all pouting lips and bare freckles, and you can’t bring yourself to pull the plug.

So you agree to have him over. And you don’t take anything down.

Understandably, you think, your heart is in your feet when Felix rings your unit, that rainy Sunday night.

You let him in, and the wait for him to get from the outside door up to yours is agonizing. Images of him walking in and immediately walking back out fill your mind, despite everything you’ve seen from him so far suggesting that he wouldn’t do that even if he was uncomfortable.

And of course, you worry for nothing.

He comes in, he catches a glimpse of your interior design choices, and all he says is, “That album was great.”

“It was,” you agree.

That’s all there is to it. He glances over the posters, he takes in your other décor and the personal effects scattered around your small space, and that’s it.

“You can sit anywhere,” you say.

He nods, “I already picked a movie. Think you’ll love it.”

“Cool.”

You’re rooting around in your cupboards for the one last pack of microwave popcorn that you know is hiding there, and you can hear Felix moving quietly around. When you emerge with the snack, you see him peering at your collection of albums.

There’s a photocard peeking out of one of the albums, just one, and Felix zeroes in on it like some kind of homing beacon. He points at it wordlessly.

“What?”

Felix grins, devilish. “Just…I didn’t know you biased-”

“Okay, okay, okay!” you sputter, flustered.

Mercifully, he drops it. He turns to your open laptop to pull up the movie he picked out, and he doesn’t bring it up again.

-----

When your front door shuts behind Felix, you turn around and stare at your wall. The faces stare back at you in their two dimensions.

You go over to the lowest-hanging poster, and carefully, you pry out the thumbtack holding it to the drywall, ignoring the feeling brewing in the pit of your stomach. The tack resists, as if the walls themselves are holding out against the decision you’re making. But you pull it out eventually, the corner of the poster wrinkled.

It’s about time to redecorate, anyway.

🦋 him 🦋

“Tell me about her.”

Felix nearly chokes on his ramen.

He looks up from his bowl, and there’s Chan. Directly across the table, sitting stony-faced and severe, his arms folded over his chest.

Damn. Felix was really enjoying his late lunch, just the warm afternoon sun through the open curtain and a steaming bowl of stovetop noodles, but here comes what is apparently a fucking Spanish Inquisition of a nosy hyung. He’s cornered, no way out without physically running past Chan out the door, and he’s not fast or strong enough for that.

There are really only two choices here, and those are to tell the complete truth, or to build the biggest fastest lie humanly possible.

With Chan looking so leader-ly and downright disappointed, Felix panics. A bit.

“I don’t know what-”

“Save it,” Chan says, “You know you can’t lie to me. Tell me about her.”

Ah. It’s gonna be like this.

“How do you know about her?” Felix asks, knowing he’s admitting defeat.

“I know everything,” Chan smiles gently.

“And?”

“And one of the coordi-noonas saw you with a girl somewhere in Yongsan-gu and mentioned it to me the other day. I guess she didn’t know you were trying to keep secrets,” he says, cavalier.

Something in his tone rubs Felix the wrong way, but it’s just Chan, so he tries to squash that feeling down.

“I’m not keeping secrets,” Felix denies.

“I’m sure you’re not,” says Chan, placating.

“Seriously. It just hasn’t come up.”

Felix stabs at his ramen with his chopsticks, appetite gone. Chan is still looking at him flatly, albeit with something slightly softer in his eyes than before.

“You’re not answering me. I wanna know about her,” he says.

“Like what?”

“I dunno. Where’d you meet her? What’s she like?” Chan shrugs.

Felix takes another bite of his lunch, to buy himself a moment of time. He feels distinctly cornered, and it’s not a nice feeling.

“Well?” Chan prods.

“I met her at a café,” Felix says.

“Cute. Very you.”

“I guess.”

Chan’s just looking at him expectantly, and Felix sighs. Whatever bonding moment Chan thinks they should be having, he won’t let up until they have it.

“She’s smart,” Felix says. “Really, like, clever. Quick. Um. She’s interested in…the industry, and stuff.”

“Interested in?” Chan repeats.

“Yeah. She knows a lot about groups, and stuff, I think,” Felix says, gesturing vaguely with his chopsticks. “She knows us, for sure. She recognized me.”

Chan’s dimples disappear as his smile fades, his obvious joy at getting to be privy to something about Felix’s social life replaced with something else. Felix fidgets in his chair.

“What?” he asks.

“I – she – so she’s…” Chan hesitates.

“She’s what?”

“A fan,” Chan says plainly.

Felix puts his chopsticks down. He feels like he needs both hands for this. “Not in the way you’re thinking, hyung.”

“What other way is there?”

“You’re thinking, like, she’s a fan who saw me and screamed and asked for a picture,” Felix says. “And then I asked her out, like some kind of cocksure dumbass with a death wish.”

Chan sighs, “No, no, I just mean, it’s different when-”

“She – look, she was already in the café. I walked up to her,” Felix says.

“But if she’s a fan, how do you know she-”

“Do you hear yourself?” Felix cuts in, “I already told you, she’s not like that. She’s just a person.”

“I’m not doubting that she’s a person. I’m just saying, fans and artists are…messy together,” says Chan patiently.

“I’m not stupid, hyung.”

“No, but you might just be…okay, just because they’re fans of us doesn’t automatically mean they’re trustworthy, Felix.”

“I think I can judge that for myself, thanks,” Felix snaps, losing his temper, “And those are your precious Stays you’re talking about, there. Careful they don’t find out what you really think.”

The last bit a low blow that’s going to take this confrontation straight into an argument, but Felix doesn’t care.

Chan brings his hands up to press over his face, breathing out hard. “Felix.”

“No, hyung, seriously!”

“Bro, I’m not mad at you or anything. I just want you to be safe,” Chan says, through the muffling layer of his hands.

That…does make sense. Chan’s not particularly aggressive or judgmental, like that. But Felix can’t help feeling defensive.

“Okay,” he says.

“If anything, I’m just happy you’re happy,” adds Chan.

He drops his hands to reveal the goofiest half-smile, and whatever feeling was rising in Felix’s chest, cold and metallic, falls a bit as he looks at his friend’s dumb face.

“But really,” says Chan, “A fan? How did that happen?”

“It just happened,” Felix shrugs.

“Only to you, bro. Only you.”

“I think you’d really like her,” Felix says softly.

Chan tilts his head to the side a bit as he regards him, his eyes probing. “Do you really like her?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Quiet falls over the two of them at the table for a moment. The space between them isn’t icy, or uncomfortable, but it’s certainly more than silence.

Chan reaches out, and covers Felix’s free hand with his own where it rests on the tabletop. It’s meant to be reassuring, and it mostly works, except for the way it sends the tiniest of quivers down Felix’s spine.

“Then I’m sure I would like her, too.”

[moodymelanist]

One Thousand Followers Celebration

okay I’m honestly kind of shook that we’re even here but thank you to everyone who’s a part of our little corner of the fandom. I love you all so so much and I’m so happy to be here ❤️ most people requested something cute and fluffy so here’s Cassian being drunk and and Nesta comes to get him. I hope you all enjoy!! 💘💘💘

feel free to read it on AO3 here too!

word count: 2975

—————

Nesta was halfway through her latest read when her phone started buzzing incessantly. It was just getting to the good part, where the main couple started to realize maybe there was something more between them than burning hatred, and she didn’t want to put it down. Frankly, it reminded her of her own love story, but she’d never admit that to anyone out loud.

She was forced to look away when her phone was vibrating so constantly with texts she thought someone was calling her. Sighing, she reached for her phone, unlocking it only to see her husband had sent her almost twenty messages.

Cassian, 11:52 PM

Nesta

Nes

I love yiu sooooo muche

Youe so pretty

I weish u were here

everyons laufghint at me but i miss u

wyd

nesssssssssss

are u ignoringme for a book agwain

:(

Swethearft<3

did i tell u i luv u td

wait its ok I ddid

i want a kiss when i see u ok

The remaining messages were a jumble of Spanish and English words mixed together, and while she had a working knowledge of Spanish, she didn’t know it well enough to even attempt to decipher what he was trying to tell her. Still, she couldn’t help but smile as she read through them all, affection blooming in her chest for her favorite person in the world.

Cassian, Rhys, and Azriel had gone out to their favorite bar for guys night, and Cassian was clearly drunk off his ass. It was really hard to keep a straight face with him normally, but when he was drunk, she thought it was one of the most adorable things she’d ever seen.

Nesta, 12:01 AM

I love you too, you big goofball

I’ll give you a kiss and a hug when I see you how’s that

Her phone was ringing within seconds, a picture of Cassian filling her screen before she answered.

“Hello?” she said, marking her page with a bookmark before closing it.

“Nesta!” Cassian exclaimed. She had to pull her phone from her ear for a moment, but she smiled again anyways.

“Hi, Cassian,” she replied, trying not to laugh. He was just so cute. “Are you having a good time?”

“Leave me alone, I’m talking to my wife,” he said, his voice sounding slightly further away. He must have been talking to Rhys or Azriel, but the way referred to her made her want to melt. They’d been together for years and married for just over one, but it still sent a thrill through her to hear him claim her out loud.

“Nes?” he said, his voice back to normal volume.

“I’m here,” she said, getting off the bed to begin looking for her shoes. He normally called her and started getting ridiculously affectionate when it was getting close for him to come home, so it was only a matter of time before he asked her to come get him.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Looking for my shoes,” she replied, spotting her boots on the floor. Leaning her phone against her ear, she bent down and put them on over her leggings before walking back to her dresser.

“Are you coming to find me?” he asked. She couldn’t help but smile at how excited he sounded by the prospect.

“Yes, baby.” Nesta hit speaker and put the phone down on their dresser as she took off the oversized shirt that she’d borrowed from him, slid a sports bra on, and put on a plain tee shirt over it.

“Oh thank God,” he said, and then dropped his voice to a loud whisper. “You’re much more fun than the dumbasses I’m with.”

She’d opened her mouth to reply, but then Cassian began talking to someone else nearby. “Tarquin! Fancy seeing you here! Are you still mad about your windows? Nes, I gotta go. Love you.”

It was a cool September evening, so Nesta grabbed a denim jacket before throwing her hair up into a bun and leaving their apartment. Once she got to her car, it was a short fifteen minutes to get to The Sidra. Thankfully there was ample street parking around the corner, and the bouncer let her in with a quick flash of her ID.

Nesta walked inside, spotting her husband and his friends immediately. They took up a ridiculous amount of space in one of the booths, and she couldn’t resist smiling as Cassian visibly brightened by her appearance.

“Nesta!” he shouted, grinning widely as she got closer. So much for subtlety, she supposed. She offered repeated apologies as she walked over to where he was sitting, but thankfully most of the people there seemed to think his behavior was too cute to be a serious nuisance.

Once she was next to the side of the booth he was sitting on, he pulled her in for a hug, wrapping his muscular arms around her waist and laying his head on her chest.

“Cassian,” she said at a normal volume, endlessly amused as he snuggled into her. She leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head before turning to greet Rhys and Azriel, both of whom looked seconds away from breaking out laughing.

“Don’t you dare,” she told them, tightening her arms around Cassian as she gave his friends a look. They both hold their hands up in surrender, Azriel raising his beer at her before turning back to Rhys.

“I missed you,” Cassian said against her chest, his voice muffled. “So much.”

“Every minute without you was excruciating,” Nesta said, playing along. He looked up at her with a pout.

“Stop teasing me,” he told her. He was frowning slightly now. “I did miss you a lot, you know.”

“I’m sorry. You’re just so cute like this, it’s hard not to tease you a little bit.”

“Not as cute as you.” Cassian smiled up at her, pleased with himself. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes good-naturedly and let him tug her into his lap.

“Sorry to crash your guys’ night,” she said to Rhys and Azriel now that she was facing them.

“He’s not as much fun when he gets like this anyway,” Azriel replied, chuckling. “In his old age, he’s turned into a sappy drunk.”

“Hey! We’re the same age!” Cassian protested from behind her, tightening his grip around her waist. Azriel and Cassian had both turned thirty earlier this year, while Rhys’ birthday wasn’t until November. Nesta had turned twenty-eight back in April.

“Good thing I like sappy drunks,” she said, twisting around to face him. He gave his friends a smug look as she pressed a kiss to his warm cheek, his stubble scratching her face in a way she loved.

“You two are the worst,” Rhys groaned.

“Like you and my sister are any better,” Nesta shot back as she turned around. Feyre and Rhys had been together since their college days and had tied the knot once they’d both graduated.

“Speaking of her, I’d love to get back home to her,” he replied. He pulled out his phone and began texting, and Nesta guessed he was asking if she was still awake.

“I guess that’s it then, huh?” Azriel asked, raising an eyebrow at Nesta.

“I’m sure Gwyn is dying to see you too,” she teased, smiling softly at him. She and Emerie had colluded with Cassian and Rhys to set the pair up on a blind date last year, and everyone had been thrilled when they’d agreed to keep seeing each other.

“She has a performance tomorrow, so she’s probably already asleep,” Azriel answered, raising a hand to catch the closest server’s attention.

“I told you my wife was hot as fuck,” Cassian said suddenly, shifting to point wildly at Nesta as their server – a young woman named Nuala – came by to bring them the check.

“I’m thrilled,” she replied dryly, raising an eyebrow as she looked at Nesta. “He hasn’t shut up about you for the last half an hour, you know. Thank God he wasn’t making you up.”

“Thanks,” Nesta said, her lips twitching from trying to hold in her laughter. Rhys put down his card to pay for all of them, waving off Cassian and Azriel’s attempts to give him money for their share of the check. Within a few minutes, the four of them were getting out of their booth and beginning the walk to the exit.

Cassian immediately went for Nesta’s hand, intertwining their fingers before bringing their hands to his mouth so he could kiss the back of hers.

“That is so unhygienic,” she said, exasperated. “I haven’t washed my hands since I left our place.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he said, grinning at her. He kissed the back of her hand one more time before lowering their hands to swing them between the two of them as they kept walking.

“Who’s that guy glaring at you?” Nesta asked, noticing a tall Black guy staring Cassian down from a booth near the door. He had silver curls that stood out brightly against his dark skin, but he couldn’t have been much older than any of them. It had to have been natural, since his eyebrows and lashes were the same color.

“Oh, that’s Tarquin,” he replied, waving at Tarquin with a sheepish grin from where they stood. Tarquin flipped him off before turning back to his companions, who both shared the same dark skin and silvery hair.

“Why is he glaring at you? Do I need to talk to him?” Nesta asked, frowning. She was the only one allowed to glare at her husband like that.

“No sweetheart, it’s fine,” Cassian replied, laughing as they walked by the table. “It’s our inside joke. He threw a party senior year of college and I might have gotten drunk and broken a few windows in his house.”

“You what? Cassian, that’s not an inside joke.”

“It’s fine, Nes. I paid him back for it, but his parents were pissed. I’m banned from his neighborhood, actually.”

“That is not fine.”

“I might be drunk, but I know when I’m right,” Cassian said, just before walking right into the door. Azriel had accidentally let it swing behind him and Cassian hadn’t grabbed it in time, and it got him right in the face.

Nesta burst out laughing before she clapped her free hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed. Are you okay?”

“The love of my life just laughed at my pain,” he whined, yanking open the door. Azriel and Rhys were absolutely losing it on the other side, making it hard for Nesta to keep her composure in solidarity with Cassian.

“Let me see it,” she said once they were outside. Cassian had pressed his hand to the side of his face, but Nesta got him to move it with her free one. His cheek was red from the impact, but she was sure it’d be fine with some ice once they got back to their place.

“It’s not so bad,” she reassured him. It was hard to keep a straight face with his friends – mostly Rhys – still howling in the background, but she got on her toes to give him a kiss on his face.

“It still hurts,” he said, pouting at her. “Can I get another kiss?”

“You big baby,” she said, but she leaned in and kissed his cheek again. “That’s all you’re getting. When we get home, I’m putting ice on that.”

“I love it when you boss me around,” he said dreamily, letting her tug him past his friends. “It does things to me.”

“Please take him home,” Rhys called from behind them. Nesta flipped him off before Cassian could, earning another wide grin from him as they walked towards her car.

“Thanks for the best thing I’ve ever seen!” Azriel added, both of their laughter fading the farther Nesta and Cassian walked.

“They’re so mean,” Cassian grumbled as she dug into her pocket for the keys.

“You want me to yell at them? Hurt their feelings a little?” she offered, unlocking the doors.

“No,” he said, pouting again. He got into the passenger seat as Nesta walked around to the driver’s side, and he immediately reached for her hand once she sat down.

“I’d do it if you wanted me to,” she told him, shooting him an amused look before starting the car.

“Maybe a real kiss would make me feel better,” he suggested, leaning towards her and puckering his lips.

Nesta leaned in and brushed her lips against his, but he wasn’t having it. He cupped the back of her head as he deepened their kiss, warming her up inside from the cool September air.

“Come on, let’s go home,” Nesta said, pulling away even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. He huffed and pouted but thankfully put his seatbelt on.

It was a quick ride back to their building, and thankfully Cassian managed not to walk into any more doors on their way upstairs. He wrapped his arm around her as they got off the elevator, which Nesta thought was as much for balance as it was to hold her close.

“Thank you for coming to get me,” he said once they were back in their apartment. He immediately walked into the bedroom and flopped on their bed, somehow managing not to knock anything over or hit Nesta’s book.

“You’re welcome,” Nesta said back, taking the time to take off her jacket and shoes before walking to the freezer to grab a bag of frozen peas. She wrapped it in a paper towel before coming to lay next to him, taking down her bun so that her hair was down around her.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he whispered, turning to look at her. His eyes lit up when he noticed her hair was down, and he reached over to play with it. She handed him the peas instead, making sure he pressed them to the side of his face.

“I thought I knew all your secrets,” she whispered back, smiling softly as she indulged him. She loved that she was the one who got to see him like this, that she was the first person he saw in the mornings and the last person he saw when he closed his eyes at night.

“You do,” he confirmed, pulling the peas away to smile at her. She gave him a disapproving look and he quickly put them back before continuing. “I love nights like these.”

“Why’s that?” she asked. She reached out to brush some of his loose waves away from his face so they didn’t get in the way of the peas.

“I never thought I would be as happy as I am right now,” Cassian said seriously. His other eye was blocked from the position of the peas, so Nesta just held the gaze of the one she could see as he moved his hand to cup her face.

Sometimes he would say things like this that made her feel like her heart was going to burst from how sweet he was. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He shifted closer to her, and Nesta inhaled deeply at the lingering scent of his cologne. “I remember when you wouldn’t even say my name out loud. Now you’re here with me and my peas.”

She laughed before answering. “It was the peas that really sold me, you know. I should have written them into my vows.”

“And you’re telling jokes? Tonight must be my lucky night.”

“Shut up before I take the peas from you, Cassian.”

“You love me too much to do that, Nes.”

“Stop using my love for you against me. It’s unfair and you know it.”

“Never,” he said, running his thumb across her cheek. “I love you too much not to use every advantage I can get.”

“I taught you too well,” she said, smiling softly at him. “Come on, let’s get ready for bed.”

She turned to kiss his palm, as unhygienic as it was, and then got up and started changing into pajamas. He groaned as he rolled off the bed, stretching as he stood up to reveal a strip of golden-brown skin at his abdomen before walking towards their bathroom.

Nesta joined him to brush her teeth in another one of his oversized shirts and no pants. He finished first, squeezing her hip as he walked by her and went back into their bedroom. She quickly brushed through her hair and pulled it into a loose braid for sleep before turning off the light.

Cassian was waiting for her under the covers, laughing as he examined the back of her book. “Is there smut in this one?”

She rolled her eyes before grabbing it from him. “You’re insufferable.”

“That’s a yes, then,” he said, grinning. She turned the lights off and put the book on her nightstand before she slid under the covers, snuggling up next to him anyway.

“I’ll let you know when I get to the juicy parts,” she grumbled eventually. He laughed under his breath, pulling her tighter against him as he maneuvered them so her back was to his chest as usual. His heart was beating its usual steady rhythm against her, a familiar baseline that let her know she was safe and everything was right in the world as long as she could curl up next to him every night.

“I love you,” she whispered, not sure if he was asleep yet. He could fall asleep anywhere, and ridiculously quickly at that; she wasn’t too proud to admit she was jealous.

“I love you, too,” he replied, tangling their legs together.

It didn’t take long for either of them to fall asleep after that.

tag list (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @live-the-fangirl-life​ | @nessiansimp | @bookologist | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @sayosdreams | @dealingdifferentdevils | @rowaelinismyotp | @arinbelle | @swankii-art-teacher | @angelicvoice19 | @teagoddess99 | @dontgetsalmonella | @champanheandluxxury | @chloepereyra | @bookstantrash | @houseofcalores | @lysakirova | @generalnesta | @gwynberdara | @sv0430 | @catplayinvioline | @julemmaes | @secretlovelybeauty | @flora-shadowshine | @imsointobooks | @sophilightwood | @lemonade-coolattas |

[ryan-thomas]

The secret Project. The Portal Gun Part One

It was Day break on District Island. At least two hours after morning wake up and Oliver Greyhound paced down the cities decaying pavement. Briskly he walked rapidly darting around crowded pools of pedestrians. Normally he would’ve stopped making conversation with at least two per crowd, but he opted not to.  

Oliver had received a text from his brother, Lucas, who he had not seen in a long time. Lucas was the smart one in the family; he lived south of the slums in district island, but it didn’t matter Oliver was still going to walk all the way there. 

Lucas had invited Oliver to The Restaurant on the complete other side of the city, making Oliver’s walk at least four hours. Oliver walked so fast that he nearly tripped on several occasions having to slow down ever so slightly. 

He passed several companies, markets and dealers exchanging several items for sentimental objects. People could be seen exchanging expensive shoes and watches for simple things like food and water. 

Oliver turned into a darkened alleyway looking up to see the enormous broken skyscrapers Stretch into the turquoise sky. He walked down the thin alleyway, no one else could be seen. Olivers footfalls fell heavy on the concrete cobbles his torn shoes causing his big toe to pop out and rub on the floor below. 

Oliver took a turn under a low bearing overhang kneeling down into a small doorway. He waited there for a few seconds when he heard a knock come from the other side of the door. Oliver responded with his own knock. A few seconds passed, and a little slit opened in the top of the door.  

“Password,” the voice said. 

“The Spire is located on the northern ridge,” Oliver whispered. 

The slit closed with a snap; the door opened. Oliver knelt even further down extending his short body into the tunnel landing on all fours. The metal walls of the ventilation shaft hung tightly around Olivers body making him struggle to move forward, his knees and hard boots loudly attacking the metal bellow echoing throughout the ventilation. 

Oliver crawled for what had seemed to be hours until a glimpse caught his eye. A faint light caught his brown eye while he rapidly increased his crawling speed, not by much. He reached an opening in the shaft and knocked four times. 

The door opened and Oliver stepped out into a small area surrounded by buildings that once again stretched into the sky. There didn’t seem to be another way in or out of the area it was here he saw the entrance to the restaurant.  

‘District Restaurant. Those vents better have been worth it’ 

The building was surprisingly perfectly intact. The doorway was decorated by several lanterns giving off a vibrant violet light. Its church-like design enticed Oliver in. Oliver took a step into the restaurant seeing just how awful and simplistic it was, but he had expected this. 

The restaurant only had a select number of tables, one for a couple, one for four and one for six, that was it. Each table was bolted to the ground even though they were just plain wooden tables and could easily be sawed off. A sign at the entrance stated no weapons to be utilized in the restaurant so Oliver had to hide his dagger in his shoe. 

Oliver walked into the seating area seeing a dusty old table next to a pile of junk. Sat at it was a young woman dressed in a pink hoodie and blue jeans typing on her laptop. Oliver walked up to the desk seeing the payment machine and a used notebook containing incomplete orders from weeks ago. 

Oliver stood Infront of the desk looking down at the woman sat there. He let out an obnoxious cough in order to grab her attention. “Hi, I'm looking for a Lucas Greyhound,” he asked. 

“Does he have a booking,” she replied sounding incredibly bored. 

Oliver simply nodded. Her gaze had averted back to her laptop this time scrolling through some sort of database. “I've got a Greyhound booking at 11:25 Sun Time is that correct.” Oliver nodded again. The women turned to a page in her notebook and ripped out a piece of paper handing it to Oliver.  

She explained to him that the menus cannot be printed due to a lack of ink shipments from Plaza Island and briefly apologized to Oliver for the inconvenience. She then directed Oliver to a table for four only there was just one person sitting there.  

Oliver waltzes up to the table yanking out a chair sitting down rubbing his grazed knees. Pulling up his black jogging bottoms checking for blood, there is no blood. He peers over to the person opposite him also on a laptop loudly typing away as though to be in some sort of zone. The boys terrible posture supported his pale head his blonde hair stood up stiff probably due to the amount of hairspray in it. 

Oliver attempted to greet the person only to be ignored. He tried again, nothing. Oliver kept trying to grab his attention, still getting zero response whatsoever. He opted to shout at the person still somehow not getting his attention, but he was able to get everyone else's, several people staring at him, some even extending their middle finger, when he glanced over. 

Oliver grabbed the laptop and swung it around. “Hey," the person screamed, Oliver had got his attention finally. Oliver looked at the screen seeing tones of green zero’s and one’s fly from the top of the screen to the bottom in single lines leaving green trails behind on the black background. 

“Lucas. What the Fuck is this,” he exclaimed. Lucas simply looked at him as though Oliver had just said the dumbest thing ever, eventually explaining it as a secret project of his. Oliver took another glance at the screen, a confused look befalling his face once again as he tried to piece together the so-called project. 

Lucas quickly grabbed the laptop flipping it back around continuing his typing but this time more aware of Oliver’s existence. Oliver sat there in thought while Lucas typed away, the binary on his laptop speeding up as Lucas paid a bit more attention to his brother's existence this time. 

Oliver looked toward Lucas seeing his determined face still working on whatever this project was to be. Lucas noticed Oliver looking and tried not to look suspicious. “Lucas,” Oliver was getting dangerously close to Lucas’ true intention. 

“This better not be portal technology.” Lucas stopped typing his facial expression, freezing in place, his pupils dilating as Oliver stared into his cold eyes. Lucas was stuck in a form of block or dilemma. He was stuck deciding between whether to continue the project or explain it to his brother who deserved to know. 

Lucas knew full well if Oliver found out he was using ‘it’ then he would greatly disapprove especially since the law change seven years ago when the island split. Lucas’ parents' technology caused that, and it was their undoing, so it was outlawed. 

Lucas hid his head behind the laptop lid and continued to work. Oliver now fed up with his brother's tomfoolery pulled the laptop lid down and once again gave Lucas a death stare. Lucas nodded and Oliver spewed word after word from his mouth particularly how Lucas was being incredibly irresponsible especially after past events. 

Lucas stated outright that he knew how to stop the energy from going out of control and that his project was several thousand times less powerful than that of the great experiment. Oliver didn’t know if he should slap his brother or just leave. 

“Besides anything's better if it means escaping this shitshow,” Lucas whispered. At that moment the receptionist begrudgingly walked over notebook in hand. When she got to the two Greyhounds, she quickly reached up to her ear pulling out a multicolored pen declaring the two need to order something or they would have to leave. 

Lucas sat back in his chair quickly closing the laptop and ordered his food, his face filled with guilt. “Two waters as well love. Got to stay hydrated,” Oliver chimed. Lucas watched as she walked away, only opening the laptop once she had sat down. Oliver simply looked at his brother in disgust but also understood his predicament. “So, what's the plan?” 

Lucas looked at Oliver as he pulled up blueprints on his screen of several floors of some building. Lucas showed Oliver a route of a ventilation shaft leading from the outside of the security station to an empty service room with a one-way window to the station platform. 

“See we just use it to sneak into the station and onto the train when the new security batch comes in,” Lucas rambled. Oliver pointed out the complications of a plan like this, but Lucas just pared him off stating they can get to Plaza Island and gather the necessary information as well as using his safe technology to complete the portal network that was left unfinished. 

Another customer formally walked into the restaurant stopping by the desk sitting at a smaller table behind the two, this led Lucas to close the laptop altogether and converse with Oliver. The two better finalized the idea of escaping District Island only for Lucas’ phone to go off. 

“It’s John, he’s at the lake.” Lucas went to get up and leave feeling a hand grab his arm. Oliver looked at him shaking his head “he’s from the plaza you can’t be meeting him anymore.” Lucas shook his brother's hand off his arm and continued to leave, giving Oliver the laptop and asking him to take it back to the lab for later. 

Lucas walked out of the restaurant only to be stopped by the receptionist, he forgot about the food. Lucas politely asked the receptionist to leave it to his brother who would be staying for a while. Lucas then walked back to the desk and placed his watch on the reader paying for his order and briskly left the restaurant. 

[opluffys]

Roommates- Trafalgar Law x Reader

tbh i don’t even know if anyone is going to see this. this is from my ao3, luffys. please enjoy!!

-nsfw/smut-

You turned the page of your medical textbook, tapping your mechanical pencil between two of your fingers impatiently, all while scrambling to find things you needed to write down onto the plain white paper. You grumbled a quick curse word under your breath, your finals were coming up, and being a medical student was complete hell. Most of the time you had no idea what was going on, but becoming a great surgeon was your dream ever since you were a child, you weren't simply going to give up because it was challenging.

It was rather late, and you had been buried in your textbook the entire day, studying the human heart. It wasn't the most complex, but it was damn confusing. You decided it would be best if you relocated from the uncomfortable desk, to your small, yet, plush bed. Making sure to drag your thick book along with you.

Law's tall fingers removed his dear spotted hat from atop its usual position, and onto the floor, revealing his dark messy hair. Law endlessly traced the bleak black text on his book, nearly losing his place to exhaustion. Whenever he would read his textbooks, he would always be so engrossed within his studies, nothing could drag him out except for falling asleep over the countless pages.

You, on the other hand, were sprawled out onto your bed, your note sheet askew on your face, your textbook placed upon your stomach, steadily rising up and down with your even breaths.

You had fallen asleep.

The one thing that you didn't want to occur.

You really had tried your hardest, battling the fluttering of your eyelashes, but the boring use of medical terms had lulled you to sleep. The soft confines of your bed didn't bother to help your situation either.

Law's dark eyes continued to scan the lengthy book, information pouring into his head. Something was just, different today, he couldn't focus like he usually could. Maybe he just needed to eat something?

With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself out of his chair, careful not to let the stacks of paper and books topple over, creating a mess to clean up.

Law opened the exiting door of his room, heading to the kitchen to eat something small. He wasn't quite in the mood for anything big, but he was silently hoping that you had made some coffee while he was gone earlier. As he checked the many spots you usually put the coffee you make, he nearly frowned at seeing that it wasn't there.

Since the both of you were medical students, you never had the time to cook anything, so the both of you usually bought frozen food that took a couple of minutes to make. You would always go for instant noodles, even when Law told you that you were making a horrible choice. Though, his frozen waffles weren't much better.

You suddenly jolted yourself awake, apparently even your own body didn't want you to fail this semester. You exhaled a heavy breath, adjusting yourself at a better angle, picking up your textbook on where you left off.

Law's fingers flattened against the cardboard box, acting as a sharp object to slide against the small slit created. He moved the small flaps out of his way, and pulled out the waffles encased within their grouped packaging. He quickly tore it open and took two plain waffles out, pushing them into the toaster slowly, adjusting the knob to make it as crunchy as he desired. Just as he was about to pull the lever down to begin heating the food item, it sprung back up at him. He grunted in annoyance, this was no time to be playing games, he just needed something to eat, and quickly. He tried pulling it again.

It sprung back up, once more.

Law rolled his eyes, and made several strides to your room, doubting you were still awake.

He opened your door, and you peered up at him while skimming through pages. Once you saw who it was, you continued to look at your textbook, reading about tachycardia, and what can cause cardiac arrest in patients.

You had the best of luck.

Your roommate for the year was just the best person you could ever ask for.

Trafalgar fucking Law.

"The toaster broke, (First Name)-ya."

You didn't answer, and continued to read your book.

He sighed audibly. "Aren't you going to do anything?" He asked, crossing his fit arms, showing off his tight muscles.

You glared at him, your (eye colour) hues showing some red traces within the pearly white. "You don't eat bread, Trafalgar." You retorted, quickly taking your eyes off of him. You preferred to call him his last name, but calling him by his first name to piss him off just did something for you.

"I eat other things that go into the toaster." He replied, leaning on the doorframe, the frame giving a weak squeak in return. "Not my problem, Trafalgar." You mumbled, a small yawn leaving your soft lips.

"How do you even know it's broken?" You asked, shoving a random item into your textbook, just so you knew where you left off. "The lever keeps springing up when I push it down." He answered, leaving to go into the kitchen, waiting for you to follow. "Did you plug it in?" You yelled from your room, too lazy to actually get up at the moment. He didn't even answer back, who did you take him for? Why wouldn't he plug it in? That's the first damn thing he did.

You pushed yourself off of the bed slowly, lagging behind Law into the kitchen. You took a quick look at the toaster, seeing Law's uncooked waffles still within the contraption. "Bullshit. I just bought this thing like, three months ago. Well I really don't know what you even thought I could do, Trafalgar." You said, manoeuvring out of Law's way to peek into the fridge.

"Cereal." You said, pointing to the sugar cereal of choice while holding a slightly expired carton of milk. "You're useless..." He sighed, rubbing his temples slightly. "I'm useless?!" You yelled, tossing the milk back into the fridge, forcing it shut with your elbow. "I'm just trying to fucking finish the year with decent grades. I'm barely doing that, and I know you're some genius who never has to touch the textbooks, but I gotta work for this shit!" You ranted, walking closer to Law, looking up at his taller figure.

He nearly laughed. "You think I don't have to study, (First Name)-ya?! What do you think I do all day?" Law said, eyes looking at you with mixed emotions. The sexual tension in the room was unbearable. The both of you could barely stand each other, yet, all you wanted to do was pounce on one another.

"I don't fucking know, ma-"

You were cut off from talking when you felt a pair of lips on yours, a well groomed goatee tickled your face slightly. You melted into the kiss instantly, his warm lips dancing with your own nearly perfectly, he tasted of bitter coffee. Which, tasted awful. You made a mental note to tell him that you could handle the coffee from now on.

You were backed up against the counter, feeling the cool surface seep into your warm skin. You barely noticed the cold, to you, the rooms temperature was on the rise. You knew you should've been studying. But you didn't want to.

Sadly, you had to, if you wanted to pass the semester.

You pushed him away, feeling his taut muscles flex under your touch, feeling the throbbing sensation increase tenfold.

He separated from your warm lips, his dark gray eyes looking at you with concern, but, mostly lust.

"What is it?"

"I..." You took one look at him, his tanned muscles begging to get out of that white shirt, his tall fingers just itching to touch you. You could barely take it, but, your wallet was empty for a damn good reason.

"I have to study." You said, not wanting to even finish that sentence. He sent you a small smirk, his eyes holding a hidden glint of mischief.

"I think I can help with that."

You were bent over Law's small work desk, your worksheets and notes crumpled in your trembling hands, your legs were shaking as you felt your arousal drip down onto your spread thighs. "F-Fuck! I don't know! Just stop, please..!" You nearly screamed, your insides clamping down on his skilled fingers. "This won't do, (First Name)-ya. You told me that you needed to study, right? So why can't you tell me who would be more susceptible to heart attacks men, or women, hmm?" He hummed, curling his fingers inside of you, causing you to yell out and lose your grip on the papers.

Law leaned his tall figure against your back, his lips against the shell of your ear. "Why don't you take a look at the notes in your hands? Or are you too busy screaming to even look, (First Name)-ya?" He whispered, his slightly raspy voice nearly making you unravel against his fingers once more.

Your mind was so foggy that you couldn't even register the question that he was asking, it was actually one of the easier ones on the test. Your eyes opened slightly, wandering to the nearly unreadable paper. Barely able to even make out the words on the page, you finally found your answer.

"I-It's men! Men are more... Ahh, fuck... More likely to suffer from heart disease, and heart attacks at a younger age than women!!" You shouted, sounding more like a moan than your answer.

"That's unfair, isn't it?" He sighed behind you, pushing his fingers deeper inside of you than they already were.

You could feel your end was near for the third time that night, and you let out a small whimper to let him know that you were close. "Again? I'm pretty good at this." He said, an arrogant smile spreading across his soft lips. He pulled his fingers out of you, leaving you empty and wanting more. "Why the fuck did you stop?" You said, turning around to view him. He said nothing, but started to take off his shirt slowly, bit by bit showing off his tan muscles. Your thighs instinctively closed together, your mind and body excited for what was to come.

You stood up, a sudden burst of confidence surging throughout your entire body. A small smile spread across your red painted lips, walking closer to the man in front of you. "Good thing you stopped, actually... Maybe it's time for me to test you?" You said, hands tracing his tattoos. "I'm already covered on the material, (First Name)-ya." He said, grabbing your hands, stopping them dead in their tracks.

"I'll be the judge of that."

Who knew that you'd have Trafalgar Law writhing underneath you, struggling to even form a single sentence?

Never in a million years did you think that this would be the outcome of sharing a cramped apartment with a man you hated, but hey, you weren't complaining.

"You're gonna fucking kill me..." He sighed, his hand resting atop your head, your (hair colour) strands in between his inked fingers.

Your soft lips left fleeting kisses around Law's twitching length, feeling warm in your hands. "You look good like this." You smiled, finally taking his cock in your mouth. A shaky sigh emitted from his lips, tightening the grip on your hair.

Your soft tongue flattened against his cock, feeling his tip hit the back of your throat, nearly making you gag.

He slightly tugged on your hair, wordlessly telling you to stop. You released him with a lewd pop sound, looking up at his gray eyes with question. "Fuck, I can't wait anymore. I want to feel you..." He said, running a hand through his messy black hair.

You stifled a giggle, but it somehow came out. "This doesn't mean I like you, just so you know." You said, getting up from your wobbly knees, to find a spot on Law's thighs. He didn't answer you, just a small frown settled on his lips. "Did I hurt your feelings?" You asked playfully, the tip of your index finger touching his nose. He rolled his eyes, "No. Just caught me off guard. Didn't think that I'd fall for my annoying roommate." He said, lazily placing his hands on your hips.

"Didn't think that you'd see through my lies." You said, a pout on your face. "It was obvious. When you switched from being somewhat nice, to full on hating me, who couldn't tell?" He smiled, his gray eyes wandering across your body.

You hummed softly, leaning closer to him, feeling his hard muscles come into contact with your soft breasts. Your arms wrapped around his neck, your head laying on his shoulder. Even your body was feeling impatient, your thighs twitching in excitement.

You sat straight up on his thighs, you felt his cock bump against you impatiently. You felt his hands trail over your body, making its way up to your neck and face slowly. You took a look at his knuckles, "I don't understand how a single patient would trust a surgeon with 'death' written on their hands..." You mumbled, taking his hand, and agonizingly slowly placing his tall fingers in your mouth, closing your eyes and breathing steadily through your nose. A blush fanned across Law's face to see such a pose on you, your tongue simultaneously sucking on both of his digits.

You nearly sank your teeth into Law's fingers once he suddenly thrusted deep inside of you, feeling the tip go deeper than you ever thought it could. You nearly choked on Law's fingers, pulling them out to let go of a moan from your throat. "You don't like my tattoos?" Law asked, steadily bouncing you on his cock, one hand on your hip and the other pinching your erect nipple.

You started chewing on your lip, trying your best to be quiet for the sake of your neighbours. Law released your nipple and stuck his fingers in your mouth once again, prying your mouth open slowly. He rolled your tongue between his fingers.

"I want to hear you scream for me, (First Name)-ya. Scream for me to fuck you into my desk."

Your thoughts ran rampant through your head, all making a warm heat run across your cheeks.

A small hum left Law's lips, "Use your words, tell me what you really want, (First Name)-ya."

You took Law's hand in yours again, feeling the warmth come into contact with you made you feel hotter. "Mmm, I know what you want though, Trafalgar..." You whispered, taking his fingers in your mouth once again, swirling your tongue across the tip of his index finger.

He pulled out of your soaking cunt and slammed you against his desk, quickly sheathing himself back within your tight and wet walls.

"Ah..! Fuck, Trafalgar!!" You screamed, a shaky grip on his desk, papers scattering due to Law's rough thrusting.

You felt his cock go much deeper inside of you from this angle, nearly making you see stars as he was balls deep inside of you with every single thrust.

Law's dark and stormy eyes were etched shut, too lost in the pleasure to even realise what he was doing, fucking you, his roommate, into oblivion. It's not like the two of you were intoxicated at all, maybe a little drunk off of the pleasure and blissful feelings that surrounded the air.

His hands were attached to your hips, short nails digging into your (skin colour) flesh, creating crescent moons that would soon vanish in given time. It all added to the sensation of pleasure, small scratches, thrusting too hard into you, every touch he left on your body made you feel feverish.

"To answer your earlier question..." You quivered, not even able to turn your head to see him. "Your tattoos are hot as fuck." You finished, your forehead coming into contact with the small desk.

"So... oh, fuck, yes..." He paused, quickly losing himself within your tight and warm confines, feeling his cock twitch deep inside of you, the head swollen and painfully sensitive after the teasing you had done earlier, but still it felt oh so good for the both of you.

"Don't you wanna see them..?" He sighed after feeling you tighten around him, his raspy voice making your walls even slicker. "While I fuck you?" He finished, the hold on your hips even tighter.

"A-Another position change? How... How kinky of you... Trafalgar..!" You said, seeming to whimper his name instead of finishing your sentence with it.

"Mhm... So kinky. We're gonna be fucking on my little bed instead of you hanging on for dear life against my desk. Doesn't that sound good to you?" He asked, stilling inside of you, his cock twitching like a heartbeat.

"Sounds good to me, as long as you got your addictive cock inside of me, I think I'll be okay tonight." You responded, letting out a whine when he pulled out again.

"You know about addiction, (First Name)-ya. Do you wanna face withdrawal?" He asked, his gray eyes latched onto your (eye colour) irises.

"No doctor, I don't think I want to."

"You call me doctor, but won't call me Law?" He asked, hands on either side of you on the bed, you laying on your back, all while he pumped inside of you steadily.

"What can I say..? I like pushing your buttons." You whimpered, hands attracted to his broad shoulders, keeping an eye on those lips you came to love.

"I want to hear you say it, just this night, I'll make a selfish request." He said, leaning down to capture your awaiting lips with his own, feeling your breasts against his chest after arching your back in bliss.

You felt his length push against that spot that had you nearly passing out. You separated from the kiss, a small string of saliva barely connecting the two of you.

"Law!! Law, yes!! Right there, ahh, fuck, Law!!" You screamed, forgetting about all of your neighbours, lost in your own world, where just the two of you exist.

He took note of that seemingly perfect angle and continued to push into you, somehow perfectly abusing that spot over, and over again.

From the way your voice was getting raspy, to how your hands stopped tracing his inked chest and started leaving red trails from your nails along his body, to the shaking of your thighs, it was obvious you were at your limit.

"Law..." You whispered, grabbing his tousled black hair, and staring deep into those mysterious gray eyes. He quickly caught your lips into a kiss again, pushing himself deep inside of you one more time before essentially swallowing your gasps and moans, he felt you come undone on his cock, the way your warm insides would tighten so deliciously onto him almost made him finish right then and there.

You were sensitive after that climax, so every time Law would push himself in and out of you felt electrifying. Every touch sending a spark to your nerves, it felt so good it was almost painful.

"(First Name)-ya... The way you take me is so good... I can't even hold myself back anymore." He whispered, his barely swollen lips slightly agape after letting out a small sigh with every thrust.

"So cum already. Please, Law... I can't take it, your big cock just stretching and filling me however you like... It's just too much..." You said, closing your eyes.

He knew what you were doing. He knew, damn it.

But it still worked.

"You sly woman..." He mumbled, one hand moving to your nipple to twist it, while the other circled your clit painfully slow.

"Law, I'm serious... It's too much, I really can't..! You're gonna make me do it again!!" You yelled, biting your lip.

"Oh fuck..." He whispered, feeling his length throb and twitch inside of you, finally spilling his white hot arousal deep inside of you.

You turned to the side with a yawn, feeling so hot and sticky, but so tired as well.

"Aren't you hungry?" You asked him, hands making their way back to his dark tattoos while he lay next to you.

"Not anymore."

[tinyboxxtink]

"Weird Secret Friends" *Chapter 2*

Part 1

Part 3

Y'all IDK what it is about this story but I can just write and write and write. This one ended up being 11 pages [on a google doc] And I only stopped because it's 2:15 am.

I hope you guys like this, but I just want to clarify: This isn't a Barisi fic. I'm sorry, if you're looking for that, just...this isn't it. I mean they do interact and it'll be fun, but they will not be ending up together.

That being said, enjoy this new chapter! I'm debating on how pathetic enamored Sonny is, I don't think I'm gonna go that deep. No worries, people.

As always let me know if you want to be added/deleted off the tag list!! <3

Tag List

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@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

-------

"Y/N, I'm so happy for you and Barba. You make the cutest couple," Sonny beamed at you while you were wrapped in Rafael's arms, huge smiles on all of your faces.

"Thank you Sonny, that means so much." You gave him a warm hug.

"Yeah….and you'll make the cutest couple in HELL!" All of a sudden Sonny pushed both you and Rafael off a cliff.

You were falling to your death when you woke up to your professor glaring at you.

"Have a nice nap, Miss Y/N?" He scowled at you.

"Um," You cleared your throat and straightened up at your desk. "Yes sir,"

"Good," he huffed as he headed to the front of the classroom once more. "Maybe now we can continue without your snoring,"

You heard the students around you snicker at his comments as You sunk lower into your desk and waited for class to end. It had been a long train ride home and then a drive to your apartment last night, you hadn't gotten home until around 2 am and had this 8 am class. As soon as the professor dismissed your class you booked it out of the class and out into the parking lot of your community college.

"Ugh, could this day get any--" before you could even finish your thought you got your answer. Your phone beeped with a text from Rafael:

RAFA: Hey killer, how's the bullshit county? 😉

That was the nice thing, then just as you were about to text him back your phone lit up.

SONNY BOI CALLING

"Shit!" You hissed to no one. "How does he know?!"

"Ahem….Heyyy, cuz," You answered it with your best nonchalant voice. That of course sounded totally chalant.

"Hey sunshine," His voice sounded relaxed, thank God.

"What's up?" You tried keeping your tone light as you neared your car.

"Well y'know I was just thinkin, I feel real bad about standing you up last night,"

"Oh, Son it's no big deal really," the fact that he felt guilty about anything made you feel even more guilty.

"No, I know you have a busy schedule and it takes a lot to get into the City and I just blew you off," He kept on with the guilt train.

"You didn't blow me off Son you had work. I get that--" You unlocked your car and got in, starting it so your windows would thaw. And your whole body.

"Well I wanna make it up to you," He cut you off.

"Oh?" your voice fell short. This couldn't be good.

"Yeah, my boss-- well he's not really My boss but Mr. Barba--"

Oh shit. Barba? Was Barba having a party? Why wouldn't He tell you that? Wait why WOULD he tell you that? Stupid. Wait, what was Sonny saying?

".... birthday, so you could be like my date," you caught the tail end of his invite.

"Birthday?" You repeated like a parrot. It was Barba's birthday? Oh god. You were really trying not to focus on how old he was. Don't ask. For the love of god don't say it Sonny.

"Yeah don't worry you don't need to get him anything, I got it covered," Sonny assured you.

Well, that was one way you could figure out just how much your cousin cared about his "idol". The more expensive the gift, the stronger the feelings were. You wondered whether you should ask him now or wait for the surprise. Maybe you should ask now, then his answer should tell you what you'd be getting into.

*So what did you get this 'non boss' of yours?" You asked slyly.

"Oh," now Sonny's voice dropped. "Well I, I don't wanna say,"

Fuck.

Don't panic. Do not panic.

"Oh come on Sonny," you did your best to keep a joking tone. "What am I gonna do, tell him?"

Should you joke about it? Hidden in plain sight, right?

"No I guess not, it's not like you know him,"

Whew.

"It's just kinda embarrassing…."

Oh god.

"O-Oh?" You tried to stay calm. "Why's that? Is it a gag gift?"

Please be a gag gift.

"Actually it's a new briefcase," He replied.

"Oh why is that embarrassing you goof?” You gave him a hard time. What was that in the emotional baggage department? Pun intended.

"I mean, it's more expensive than the one I own," You could hear the shrug in his voice.

Fuck. Don't ask why. Don't ask. But if you don't ask, that will be even more suspicious wouldn't it?

"Oh Son," You asked softly. "Why would you do that?"

"Well the one he has is as old as dirt, I think it's probably the first one he ever bought. I wanted him to look snazzy in court." He replied with a super eager tone.

"That's sweet," you were pounding your steering wheel in frustration. Say it.

"Seems like a lot of work for a mentor though," You closed your eyes mentally killing yourself.

"Yeah well," he laughed uncomfortably.

Say it.

"Sonny…” You didn’t want to do this.

“Yeah?” He was oblivious.

“You know you can always talk to me,”

“Yeah of course,” He assured you.

“About anything,” You scrunched your nose.

“Yeah I know, sunshine,” He half laughed.

“ANYTHING,” You reiterated

There was a long awkward pause.

“...Sonny?” You made sure he hadn’t hung up on you.

“Yeah, I'm here,” He replied softly.

“So?” You waited for the bomb to drop.

So…. He sighed. "I just want him to like me,"

Dammit.

"....Yeah," You nodded, cursing yourself.

"Yeah, its stupid. I'm stupid." He laughed again.

“You're not stupid,” you laid your head on the steering wheel in shame.” I mean the heart wants what it wants right?”

“What?! Oh my god, Y/N,” He scoffed. “I'm not gay,”

“….Sonny it's 2021,” you shook your head. “Sexuality is a spectrum,”

Right well. He laughed defensively. "I'm on the p in the v scale,"

“Ugh, Sonny,” you made a face.

“Sorry sunshine,” He apologized. “I just...why would you even think that?!”

“Uh…” You paused.

Maybe he wasn't fully aware that he had romantic feelings for Rafael. If you started pointing out the signs, he might realize it. But then you'd have a cousin going through gay panic AND then finding out it doesn't matter anyway.

"No reason," You lied.

"I just want him to like him so he'll give me a good recommendation once I graduate Fordham Law,"

"Oh" you smacked your head. "Duh. Right. Of course,"

That was completely legitimate. Maybe you had been misreading this whole thing. Now you just had the whole overprotective Gotti side of Sonny to worry about.

"Well I guess I could spend the weekend in the city," You shrugged as you pulled out of the parking lot.

“Absolutely!” He exclaimed. “My couch is always open,”

Not exactly where you were thinking of sleeping, but you weren't blowing your cover over the phone. Wait, maybe you should. Then he couldn't kill you over the phone. Wait, he's presumably at work right now. You didn't know how closely he worked with Barba, but you figured it would be a hell of a lot easier for Sonny to get to him before you could stop him from killing Rafael.

"Sure sounds good. I'll see you then cuz,” You smiled and hung up the phone.

------

Friday arrived, and you once again found yourself standing outside Forlini's. You debated heavily whether to go in or not, but you told yourself you were going to wait for Sonny outside this time, no more risking a sexy bar rendezvous.

You hadn’t really responded to Rafael’s texts the last few days, and you certainly didn’t tell him you were coming. Maybe you should have told him. You grabbed your phone to text him when you heard a familiar voice behind you:

“Y/N?”

You spun around to see Rafael dressed to the 9’s, smiling at you. He smelled delicious, mixed with the food aroma wafting out of the restaurant and the smell of freshly fallen snow in New York City.

“...Happy Birthday, Counselor,” You bit your lip nervously.

“W-What are you doing here?” He stared at you as if he thought he was dreaming.

“Sonny invited me,” You nervously smiled.

“Seriously?” He laughed.

“Seriously,” You nodded with a laugh as well.

“Did-- did you say anything to him?” He asked you worriedly.

“Are you insane?!” You hit him. “No!”

“So why did he invite you here?” He asked.

“He said it was to make up for ditching me the other night,” You shrugged.

“...The irony,” He smirked.

“Mmm,” You nodded with an amused smile.

“Well this is a very happy birthday indeed,” He smiled, pulling you closer into his coat similar to the night you had met.

“....Just don’t ask which one it is,” He warned you while staring at your lips deviously.

“Deal,” You nodded in agreement before he pulled you into a hungry kiss.

“DUDE!!” You snapped back before his lips were on yours for more than a millisecond. “Are you nuts?! Sonny’s gonna be here any second!”

“It’s my birthday, carino,” He made a pouty face. “Don’t yell at me,”

“Oh lord,” You rolled your eyes. “Alright, man child,”

He was about to go for another sneaky kiss when you both heard a voice from behind you.

“....Sunshine?”

“Oh!” You jumped ten feet away from Rafael when you turned to see Sonny standing there with a huge gift bag, staring slack jawed at the two of you. “Sonny! I um, we--”

“I was teaching your cousin a lesson in New York safety,” Rafael talked over you, his face completely stone. God he was a good liar.

“Excuse me, counselor?” Sonny raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of you. You just stared in speechlessness.

“She was standing on this curb holding her bag out for any miscreant on these streets to just wrestle away from her, I was just demonstrating how,” He gestured to your open purse.

“Barba I really think this ain’t that kinda neighborhood,” Sonny half laughed.

“...You never know,” Rafael shrugged. “Now let’s all get inside, I’m sure everyone is anxious to start celebrating me,”

You and Sonny both rolled your eyes with smiles; too similar of smiles, you noticed. Thankfully, he did not. You both followed Rafael back to a private room where a bunch of fancy dressed people were mingling with drinks in their hands while two long empty tables stood in the middle of the room. They all stopped and clapped when Rafael walked in.

“Oh, for me?” He feigned surprise and humility.

“Yeah right Barba,” A woman laughed sarcastically. “You’re the one who invited us here,”

“Touche, Rita,” Rafael smirked as he began making the rounds around the table greeting everyone.

“So are we allowed to eat now, I’m starving,” An older man asked.

“And I’ve got a son waiting,” A red headed woman chimed in.

“Right, right,” Rafael nodded as people began to take seats. “Sorry everyone, you know I love to make a dramatic entrance,”

“Oh trust me we know, Barba,” Another man called. “Your catwalks into the courtroom prove that. I think we have a montage of them,”

“Ha Ha,” Rafael rolled his eyes, then turned to you and Sonny.

“Sonny,” He put a hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you sit next to me?”

“R-Really, counselor?” You saw Sonny’s eyes light up like Christmas tree lights.

Fuck. You knew he was only asking him so that you would sit next to him as well. And while you loved the idea, you knew how much this was toying with Sonny’s feelings.

“A-Are you sure, about that Mr. Barba?” You gave him a look.

“Absolutely, Miss-- I didn’t catch your name?” He played it so cool.

“Y/N,” You held out your hand as you re-introduced yourself.

“Right, well--” He shook your hand then turned his attention to Sonny who was still beaming like a kid on Christmas. “I don’t know how much Carisi has told you, but he is quite the promising mentee of mine,”

“....R-Really, Rafael?” Sonny blinked in disbelief, causing Rafael’s smile to falter for a moment. Sonny had never called him “Rafael” before, it was always “Barba”. Shit, maybe he had given him too much praise.

“I mean, you know, for a lap dog,” He quickly added with a snarky tone and a smirk.

“Mr. Barba!” You tried not to raise your voice at the birthday boy. “That is my cousin you’re talking ab---”

“No, no it’s fine Y/N-- th-that’s how we work isn’t it, counselor? He just gives me jabs, I know he doesn’t mean it,” Sonny laughed nervously, staring at the floor. He knew not to get too comfortable with Barba, why did he even try it?

“Indeed,” Rafael nodded in agreement. “But, I still request you sit by me-- at least I know you don't poison my food. Which is more than I can say for many of my esteemed ‘guests’,” He eyed the tables of people before him.

“Then why invite them to your party?” You quirked an eyebrow.

“I get that Jersey doesn’t have the social classes of Manhattan, Miss Y/N,” He smirked. “But here, you’ve got to do things to keep up appearances,”

“Oh do you?” You practically growled.

“Yes,” He nodded while a waiter brought him a glass of scotch. “Even if you don’t like someone, if they serve a purpose for you than you do what you must to keep in their good graces,”

“Oh is that so? So you’re only kind to people who can ‘serve’ you?” You crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes at him.

What kind of Danny Zuko bullshit was this?! This was an entirely different Rafael Barba you had met the other night. He was kind, flirty, endearing. This new Barba was snarky and condescending, and you were not amused at all.

“Y/N, chill,” Sonny hissed at you. “This is just how Barba is, he’s harmless,”

“Yeah well you might not mind being his doormat Sonny, but I sure as hell won’t be,” You angrily stomped off.

“Oh my god,” Sonny muttered, wondering if he should run after you or not. “Barba, I am so so sorry about her,”

“It’s fine, Carisi,” He watched you stomping away, trying to hide the guilt in his voice. He was just trying his best to throw Sonny off the trail. He may have overcompensated just a tad.

“I-I should go check on her, She’s just a kid--”

“No, allow me,” Rafael put a hand to Sonny’s chest. “It was my faux paux, I should apologize to her myself. I was being a bit of an ass,”

“Yeah but that’s just you, Barba,” Sonny chuckled, trying not to blush at Rafael’s hand on his chest.

“True, but I forget not everyone knows me as well as you do, Carisi,” And now he was trying to be extra nice to Sonny to get on his good side, while cluelessly egging on his feelings.

“That is very true,” Sonny laughed even more nervously. “I’ll uh, I’ll take a seat and get our drinks ordered,”

“Excellent,” Rafael smiled at him, probably one of five times in the entire time they’d known each other. He gave Sonny one more pat on the back before walking after where you had stomped off to.

He found you right before you hit the front door, his hand catching yours before it could grab the handle. You turned and scoffed at him, your scowl still present after stomping off.

“Oh, come to appease me, counselor? How can I be of service to you?” You snapped.

“Please, Y/N,” He gave you apologetic eyes as he pulled you closer to him. “I’m sorry, I just-- I didn’t want Carisi to think anything was off. He already caught us being handsy, I had to make it look like we disliked each other,” He explained.

“Oh I think you’ve done that above and beyond, jackass,” You huffed. “First I’m too stupid to not get robbed in the city, and then I’m too uncultured to understand ‘high society’ manipulative bullshit?”

“I’m sorry, I may have gone a little over--” He started.

“But that wasn’t even an act, was it?” You interjected angrily.

“What do you mean?” He asked you curiously.

“Your line of you having ‘use’ of a person? I assume that is why you have a room full of powerful people you dislike as opposed to a room full of sycophants?” Yeah, you might just go to community college but you knew big words too.

“I mean, that is how it works--”

“Jesus Christ,” You shook your head with a laugh. “You know I understood for about half a second why my cousin is so infatuated by you, but I am losing that belief real quick,” You turned and started to walk away again.

“Y/N come on,” He grabbed both of your arms this time and pulled you close into him, your noses almost touching.

“Look I’m-- I’m sorry, that I’m---this,” He gestured to himself.

“But that’s just how I have to be in their world,” He gestured back towards the room. “I’m telling you, it’s a room full of sharks. If I show weakness or misstep in decorum, I’m nothing but chum to those people,”

“The guy you met the other night, that’s the real me,” He put a hand to your cheek. “I never get to be that guy, not in public. That’s why I was so attracted to you,” He put his other hand on your waist.

“I don’t have to be ‘Rafael Barba, the snarky ADA with a silver tongue,’ I can just be…’Rafa’,” He gave you an earnestly sad smile.

“I’m sorry,” You blinked in confusion. “I know I’m not helping myself but what exactly is the ‘ADA’?”

Your question brought that familiar amused grin and a laugh. “See, this is what I’m talking about,”

“Oh yeah I know, the ignorant girl you can placate--”

“No,” He put a finger on your lips. “The earnest, normal, gorgeous girl,” He kissed your forehead. “I’m sure if we took a poll in here right now the majority of the room would be with you, not knowing what an ADA is,”

“Which still doesn’t answer the question,” You pointed out.

“I…” He tried to think of a way to explain his role in the Manhattan judicial system. “Well, the DA of the county is like-- the King of Lawyers in that section. Or queen, as my boss is Rita,” He shook his head with a laugh. Oh Rita Calhoun, the stories he could tell about her.

“So, you’re her king?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Eh, I’d say Prince but she’d probably say Jester if she heard this metaphor to be honest with you,”

“Mmm I like that,” You finally let yourself smile at him.

“A Prince?” He grinned.

“The Jester,” You gave him a tongued smile, settling against his chest.

“Well, I’ll gladly take that title if it makes you happy,” He kissed your forehead. “I’d do anything to make you happy right now,”

You looked into his green eyes, they were now their usual sparkling green hue, and you remembered very quickly how you had gotten yourself in this mess in the first place. He really was a sweet, charming, gorgeous guy. And then you remembered those were probably all the reasons Sonny fell for him too.

“Ahem.” You straightened up and stepped out of his grasp. “Well, what would make me happy right now is getting back to my cousin,”

“Oh,” Rafael’s eyes softened into a sad gaze.

“Rafael, I think he really likes you,” You bit your lip with guilt. “And you toying with him just now isn’t helping!”

“Toying with him?” Rafael’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion? “I wasn’t toying with--”

“Sit by me, Carisi? You’re important to me, Carisi?” You imitated his questions in a mocking tone.

“I had to ask him that so you would--” He started to explain, but you already knew.

“I know!” You stopped him. “I know, that’s why it’s so fucked!” You put your hands over your face.

“Carino…” Rafael walked over and pulled your hands from your face and held them.

“I’m hurting him every second that I stand here with you, and I--” You bit your lip trying not to cry. “I’m still doing it! I can’t walk away!”

“So don’t,” He squeezed your hands with an even sadder look.

“This is just--” You broke free from his grasp once again and wiped your eyelids. “We need to get back before Sonny comes after you,”

“....So where does this conversation leave us, then?” He asked you cautiously.

“I don’t…” You gazed into his puppy dog emerald eyes. “I don’t know, I don’t want to think about it right now, okay?”

“Fair enough,” He put his hands down in concession. “...But we really need to--”

“Yeah, I know,” You nodded softly as you walked back to the private room, Rafael trailing behind you.

All you could think on the way back was how in God’s name were you going to make it through the rest of the night.

[housegautier]

didn’t see you there

There’s a certain something about the monastery’s library at this hour that puts Sylvain at an odd ease. His footfalls are soft, hands tucked into his front pockets and eyes drifting lazily from shelf to shelf as he wanders.

To anyone else he looks perfectly disinterested. Good.

He has no reason to be here so early. The only people who do are the handful of overachievers, and of all of the words he has heard used to describe him, that is certainly not one.

Fortunately for him, said overachievers appear to be overachieving elsewhere, and the place is mostly empty. Which makes it much easier to go unnoticed as he ducks between two shelves. He’s seen Annette there countless times, so finding his targeted section is easy.

And, once again, the coast is blissfully clear.

With a low sigh of relief, Sylvain’s shoulders relax and his gaze turns into something much more focused. His index finger trails over a few spines, and he squints just the tiniest bit to make out the text adorning them. There are hundreds of titles here. Damn, he really should have asked someone for help.

Except that was a total no go. He was himself, after all. Who would have possibly taken him asking to learn magic seriously? Not to mention just how plain embarrassing it would be to admit he had an actual interest in learning anything at all, let alone something outside of his usual skills.

Sylvain tips a book toward himself, peering at the cover for a moment and then knocking it right back into its spot with a huff. A few more covers, a couple more huffs, and finally he settles for a smaller tome with thin pages and half of the title scuffed off.

Oh well. Good enough.

He takes a few more steps down the row of shelves, humming to himself. There are more books in this one section then he’s touched in his whole life—not like that’s a particularly hard number to top—and his eyes flit over a few spines as he passes. A particularly interesting title catches his eye; jarringly red amongst a sea of much duller covers and slotted on the highest possible shelf. In a rush of curiosity, Sylvain shifts his attention toward it.

It isn’t like he’s short—he’s remarkably tall, actually—but his goal is a handful of inches too tall for even him to reach with ease. He’s too determined to give it up now, though, and he raises up on his toes to grab at it. His fingers graze the spine, tugging with as much force as he can manage without throwing off his balance completely, and when it doesn’t budge he grumbles under his breath.

This is personal now.

Sylvain repeats the process and when, for the second time, the title doesn’t budge, he lets the book in his other hand clatter to the floor.

@ephemeralove

[berryjam17]

Remedy

Jin x f. reader [in smut scene. relatively g/n for the rest ( 'butterfly' could be considered a more feminine nickname)]

Synopsis: Life has left you scarred and unwilling to get too involved with anyone else.

Kim Seokjin is stubborn. Kind. Capable of soothing your wounded spirit.

Warnings: chronic illness, hints of IBD throughout for Y/N and Jungkook, one very in-your-face implication that Y/N has IBD in the beginning, internalized ableism, swearing, unprotected sex, little bit of dom!Jin / sub!Y/N, oral (F receiving), fingering (F receiving)

Word Count: 6k

repost, I had to fix some issues.

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

The waiting room was hushed, with the tapping of keys from the receptionist’s desk as background noise. You glanced expectantly at the clock, disappointed when only two minutes had passed. It was 6:17 PM, and you doubted your roommate would arrive before 6:40. Lisa was a graduate teaching assistant at the local college. She’d left a message explaining that she had to print off a paper before she could drive your car back.

This late in the day, there was one other person waiting. You studied him, more out of boredom than anything else.

Black hair fell in waves to frame his forehead and eyes. He was dressed casually in a soft pink hoodie and jeans, his rings reflecting the overhead light as he skimmed through a magazine.

He abandoned it briefly, lifting his head to lock eyes with you. His lips twitched. A frown? A smile? You couldn’t tell.

He flipped the magazine around and held it up, so that you could see the pages he’d been on. It was a painting of a cherry tree in full bloom, with hints of a cerulean sky between the branches.

Beautiful.

The next spread was for Crohn’s and Colitis Awareness Month. His brow furrowed as he witnessed you retreat into your shell, looking anywhere but at him.

Realization dawned when he saw the contents. “I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

The door to the E.R. clicked open, interrupting him, and a younger man crossed the threshold. Magazine Man shot to his feet and hurried over to him. “How are you feeling, Kook?”

“Tired.” ‘Kook’ shrugged into the coat he was handed, almost trodding on the other man’s heels as they exited the waiting room.

Stupid. You slumped forward, squeezing your eyes shut and rubbing your forehead. Get a grip.

He sat a few seats away. You kept your head down, not eager to embarrass yourself further.

You’d heard his voice before, but for the first time, you realized how melodious it was. “I didn’t look before I turned the page that day. I’m sorry.”

You looked up. “I know. I’m sorry too, for how I acted.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He relaxed into the seat. “I’m Seokjin, by the way.”

“I was calling you Magazine Man in my head. Just so you know.”

He had a nice laugh. “There are worse names, I suppose. What’s yours?”

“Exhausted panda.”

“Panda? Is that your favorite animal?”

You blinked, taken aback at his interest. “Uh, no. That's not why. It’s for the dark circles under my eyes...it’s hard for me to get enough sleep.”

“...I see wings.” His voice was hesitant. Gentle.

You couldn’t understand why he’d been trying to boost your morale. “Oh...well. My actual name is Y/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.”

The next time you saw Seokjin, he was worried when he learned you didn’t have an immediate ride home. Lisa had left on an urgent errand for her mother, and you hadn’t driven in the first place. It was kind of impossible to do that when you were incapacitated by pain and nausea.

He offered to drop you off after he took his brother home.

You couldn’t reply right away. You had some idea of who he was. You knew his name, and that he loved his brother dearly. But you didn’t know him well enough to feel completely comfortable.

But pain had always been your strongest motivator. The easiest fix for the agony snaking along your guts was a heating pad at home.

And here Seokjin was, with the tempting words that made you imagine how sweet the relief would be.

You said yes.

Seokjin stopped next to you while you were browsing through the earrings at the local Walmart, almost giving you a heart attack before you recognized him.

He was with his brothers. You hadn’t known that there were others, besides Jungkook. But then again, you had only met in the hospital.

Thankfully, Jungkook appeared to be fine. But you knew all too well that didn't necessarily mean he felt that way. Still, his smile almost rivaled Seokjin’s.

Seokjin gave the jewelry a cursory scan before he snatched a pair left over from Christmas, stamped with Santa Claus’ image. “These would be perfect for you.”

You rolled your eyes, swatting his hand away. “More like for you.”

He didn't laugh. You were surprised to see him scrutinizing your features. “You’re feeling better.”

“Yeah.” You swallowed. He didn’t intend to, but his words reminded you of the fact that every meeting up to that point had happened with you rendered helpless in one way or another. You despised the idea that people thought of you as frail, vulnerable...weak.

Especially Seokjin.

But it was undeniable. You were weaker than the average person. Good days where you could cope had been reduced, and there weren't many days at all that you didn’t feel some symptom.

Seokjin had a window to Jungkook’s experiences. But even then, there was a disconnect between them. What then, did you hope that he could do for you, that you couldn’t do for yourself?

“I found something for you.” He took your hand in his. Cool metal pressed into your skin.

You uncurled your fingers to see midnight blue stones glinting up at you, set as the leaves of an earring climber. “It’s beautiful.”

He sent you a wink. “Of course it is. What would you choose for me, Y/N?”

They stood out almost immediately. You retrieved the pair of silver chain drop earrings and deposited it in his hand. They were rather plain, save for the metal stars at the ends of both.

He rolled the fine metal links across his thumb.

You hadn’t spoken, but his head lifted. He refused to look away from your eyes. His own had softened, resulting in the tension rippling across your shoulders. You didn't like it when people looked at you like that.

Seokjin had never seen one of your days, only glimpses. He had no idea of what you endured.

He had no right to meet your gaze with that familiarity.

“Butterfly.” His voice was hushed, stopping you in your tracks.

“‘Butterfly’...?”

“Can I call you that?”

“I didn’t think we were on a nickname basis. If we were friends, I’d allow it.”

“Friends…” he mused. “That’s fair.”

The image of rain, threatening to break through a wall of clouds, rolled across your mind.

He didn’t relent, daring to reach out. He folded your fingers around the piece of paper. “If you need a ride. Or if you want to talk.”

“Do you just carry your number around?”

He glanced downwards. “I wrote it after I saw you here.”

You nodded stiffly. You couldn’t see yourself turning to him for further help, but you weren’t about to tell him that. Besides, there was no harm in keeping the paper, just for a while.

-----

He had lovely handwriting. You left his note on your desk after entering his contact, though you debated for several weeks on what to text.

If you decided to text at all.

Red lights cutting through the midnight darkness and echoes of his voice in the enclosed space lingered. The memory of his presence paired with the absence of pain.

You were unable to forget that you owed him, and you wouldn’t be able to let the memory fade until you’d done something in return.

He replied with an invitation to a homemade dinner. It didn’t make sense. Honestly, it was frustrating. You just wanted to pay him back and be done with it.

But again, he insisted. The little voice in your head whispered that it’d be easier to explain yourself in person, rather than over text.

While Seokjin had dug in right away, you set your fork down. “I have to be clear about this. I said yes because I owe you for the ride home before. There’s no other reason.”

He gazed at you from across the table. “I did that because I wanted to. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Seokjin, please.”

He sighed. “That’s what friends do. Can we be friends, Y/N? Not...whatever this is?”

You traced the rim of your glass, collecting condensation on your fingertip. “...I guess we can try.”

“Thank you.”

You glanced at him. His gentle smile and warm brown eyes caused an ache to bloom in your chest. Feeling your body temperature spike, you broke eye contact with him.

The clock on the wall read 6:32. The muted ticking of its hands and the clinking of silverware were the only noises in the room.

For a house with six other occupants, especially in the evening, you would’ve expected to overhear conversations and movement. “Where are your brothers?”

“Jungkook went to watch a movie with Jimin and Tae. Yoongi’s at his studio. Namjoon and Hoseok went back to campus to study.”

“Does that happen often? You getting the house to yourself?”

He smiled. “I may have...provided incentive to the youngest ones.”

You stumbled upon a new author and earned a couple more pieces of literature to proofread. Since you hadn’t gone to college, you were grateful each time you found a new client.

When Seokjin refused monetary payment, you came up with a plan B.

While you couldn't be exactly sure of what Jungkook’s trigger foods were, you were reasonably sure that they included the worst ones for you. Red sauce (and everything that entailed) was pure evil on the most basic list of what foods to avoid. You had no clue what his other brothers liked, so you packed a variety of food.

He answered on the second ring. “Y/N?”

“Hey, you’re at home, right? Is everyone else there too?”

“Just a sec. ...Yoongi’s on the way. Everyone’s here beside him. Why?”

“I bought food, so we can all have dinner together.”

“Alright. You’re at home?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait there. I’ll come get you.”

“I can drive, Seokjin. But thank you.”

“See you soon, butterfly. Drive safely.”

--

Seokjin swung the door open. Surprise flickered across his expression. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” You lifted the basket, as if he hadn’t already seen it. “I brought food.” As if you hadn’t told him that earlier. You cringed, wondering why his compliment had thrown you off so badly.

If you were trying to distract him, it hadn’t worked. His thumb grazed your earlobe and the jewelry adorning it. “It matches you.”

Seokjin’s presence in your life was like the moon. You’d walked for so long through the night that at first, even his light had been blinding. But it hadn’t taken too long to become accustomed to his honest, kind nature.

A few months went by. Though Seokjin hadn’t exactly hesitated to talk to you before, sending you cute animal pictures or memes, he became thoughtful when you saw him in person.

“I feel like you’re hiding something from me.” You sat across the table from him. His brothers had already finished eating and scattered throughout the house and yard. You’d declined his invitation for food, but accepted for the company.

He finished chewing, his hand over his mouth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh yeah?” You looked - very deliberately - at his ears.

He bolted out of his seat. “Hey!”

You waited a long moment before rising. His hands pressed into your shoulders, holding you firmly in place. “Y/N, don’t turn around and I’ll talk.”

“Okay.”

“You’re special to me.”

“Special...in what way?”

“As my friend. As someone I like.” He claimed the chair next to you.

“Oh..”

“Can we give it a try? It doesn’t need to be official. I just want to know you better.”

“Seokjin, I haven’t been in a relationship for a long time. I’m not...suited for one.”

“If you don’t want to, that’s fine. But why do you think you’re not suitable?”

You drew patterns on the table. “Um, I’ve just never wanted another person there…”

His hand settled over yours. He squeezed your fingers. “Sure. But why, Y/N?”

Your throat grew tight. You choked out, “I didn’t want to be a burden.”

He drew you to him, tucking your head against his shoulder. You blinked tears away.

“You’ve had to be strong for so long.” He murmured, melancholy infusing his tone. “You’re not alone anymore, butterfly.”

------

It took a few hours to surface from the dark ocean.

You were in Seokjin’s room, watching him explore Hyrule. He had a Nintendo Switch hooked up to his TV, with a Breath of the Wild cartridge inserted. “Seokjin?”

“Hmm?” He frowned as he furiously mashed buttons. “Just a minute.” On the screen, Link was fighting a masked man in red. The enemy teleported around the battlefield, annoying Seokjin. “Stand still and let me kill you!”

He breathed a sigh of relief when his attacks connected. You kept an eye on the enemy’s HP bar, cheering inwardly each time it went down. After vanquishing the masked enemy, he set the Switch on his bedside table and turned his attention to you. “What is it, Y/N?”

“I’m ready to talk about why I’ve been afraid of relationships.”

He inclined his head, a silent ‘continue.’

“The fear of being a burden is constantly in the back of my mind, because of my health. I always thought...why would someone choose that? Why choose me, when so much of my life is this disease?”

“Because you’re a lovely person.”

“There are so many lovely people out there who are actually healthy.”

“But they’re not you.”

“I’m not any other person either, does that make them any less valuable?”

“No, of course not. That’s not-” He groaned. “Y/N, you’re making this impossible. Everyone is special. But you are in my life, and you’re important to me. I don’t give a damn about your health.”

You wanted to believe it.

If it had been anyone else, you wouldn’t have. Even so, doubts haunted you.

Seokjin was a good person to the core. You’d seen that when he took care of Jungkook, in his cooking for his brothers, and how he’d bolstered your spirits when it was all too much.

You could trust him.

But you didn’t want to drag him down. He deserved better.

He took your hand, thawing the ice in your bloodstream. “Look at me.”

You did. He intertwined his fingers with yours, his rings warm against your skin. “I know my own mind. And I like you. Your health doesn’t scare me.”

“It’s easy to say that.”

“If we were in a relationship, I could prove it. Remember Jungkook, too. I’ve seen his side of it.”

“..Okay. I’ll do my best.”

He chuckled softly. “You don’t need to do that. Butterfly, just be yourself.”

-----

Euphoria was unfamiliar. You poked at the dreamlike haze, searching for shadows. You relaxed when the sunlight faded. A full day had passed, and it hadn’t been a fantasy.

Grains of sand shifted under your shoes. Waves rolled against the shore, and he was at your side. “Jin, why did you start talking to me? In the hospital, I mean.”

“You looked sad. And I thought...maybe you could help Jungkook. He struggles with it a lot. If anyone can help, it’d be you, right?”

Moonlight spilled a silver path across the water. “I don’t know that I’d be able to help another person when I’m not in the best mindset. He should talk to a professional, I think.”

--

Jin parked next to the curb. You unbuckled the seat belt when he spoke, rushing through his words. “Y/N, there's something...I have to be honest. I didn’t ask you out purely for my sake. The next relationship I had, I wanted to meet someone similar to Jungkook.”

The euphoric bubble disintegrated. “What?”

“I’m sorry. But please believe me, I care about you.”

“Me or my disease?”

His face was veiled in shadow. “Y/N, it’s you.”

“I need time to think, Jin. You were using that part of me...and I just..”

---

His confession was a new experience. You’d struggled with self-esteem for years, only exacerbated by the crushing diagnosis. To fight with a resistant body and know that you would never, ever be freed from that for as long as you lived...it was hard.

There was always the hope of remission. But the risk of a flare-up was there too, in every period of peace.

Seokjin had deliberately sought you out because of your burden.

You knew that his intention was admirable and came from love for his brother. But the thought that not all of your interactions had been for the sake of, well, interacting...hurt.

A lot.

Were you not enough?

-------

Jungkook called after a few days, asking to talk in person. You agreed after he promised everyone else would be out of the house.

“How are you feeling?” You asked, looking him over. He didn’t appear pale, tired, or otherwise sick. What you were really concerned about were the possible symptoms you couldn't see.

“I’m okay. I managed to finish a painting.” His lopsided smile vanished. “I heard what happened.”

“Yeah...I assume you’re going to explain.”

“I’d like to. But I won’t if you don’t want to hear it.”

You couldn’t say no to his earnest request. “I’m listening.”

“He didn’t mean it like that. His exes were nice enough people, but they couldn’t understand how protective Jin-hyung and everyone else was of me. They wanted more from him than he was willing to give. He was just hoping that someone like me would be more sympathetic.”

You nodded slowly. “I can see that.”

Light glimmered in his eyes. “Can I pass on a message?”

“It’s alright, I’ll call him later. Jungkook, your brother said he was worried about you. Can I help you at all?”

He blinked at you, confusion clouding his face. “Help me..? On what?”

“Your health. If I can help, I mean. I only have my life to go off of, but I’ve been talking through it with a therapist.”

“Oh. Um...I want to ask you some questions.”

----

You dialed his number with shaking fingers.

“Y/N?” The concern in his voice made tears spring to your eyes.

“..yeah. It’s me. Um, listen, Jin. I talked to Jungkook earlier...and I thought a lot.” You opened the door, stepping onto the deck. When you tilted your head back, you could see the stars.

“Are you okay?”

“I will be. I just..needed to ask you something. It was real, right?”

“Yes, butterfly. I wouldn’t have gone this far if I didn’t care about you.”

“Okay.” You wiped at your eyes. “I still love you, Jin. Can we start over?”

“I’d like that.”

Your heart warmed when he blew you a kiss over the phone.

“Get some sleep, Y/N. I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Good night, Jin.”

“What do you want to do in the future, Jin?”

“I’m supposed to take over the family business. After all, I got a degree for it.”

“Do you want that?” You asked, hearing wistfulness and regret entwined in his voice.

“I...no, not exactly. But I’m the eldest.” He nudged his plate of fried chicken.

“That doesn’t matter. What do you want to do, Jin?”

He dragged his plate closer to him, avoiding eye contact.

“You’re so good to everyone. What about yourself?”

“I’d like to work in a hospital...not a doctor, but maybe a nurse? I want to help people.”

“You can do that and still be there for your family.”

Although he didn’t look completely convinced, he resumed eating. You were glad for that, at least.

Lisa wasn’t home when Jin pulled in, so he parked behind your car. He caught a glimpse of a bike, sheltered safely under the deck. “Is that yours?”

You followed his finger. “Yeah. It’s been a while, though.”

“Why? The weather's nice.”

Resignation dyed your tone a muted gray. “I can’t walk up a flight of stairs without getting tired most of the time. I don’t have the stamina for biking.”

He was holding an extra helmet and standing next to a light blue bike. Your heart leaped when you noticed it was a two-seater bicycle.

Jin clasped the strap under your chin. He sat in front and kicked off.

You didn’t look at the scenery very much.

--

Jin was still seated when you clambered off his bike and removed your helmet. You attempted to do the same to his, but nervousness hampered your movements. He reached up and unclasped the strap. Carefully lifting his helmet, you set it on the ground.

You could swear he had a halo. He was cast in an azure glow.

Of course, you knew it was all in your mind. He couldn’t claim to be of angelic status any more than he could emit light. Physically, anyway.

You cradled his face in your hands and kissed him. “I want to spend more time with you today, doing something you like.”

His eyes lit up. He wheeled the bike back to his car. “How about playing some games?”

You laughed. “You bet.”

--

Jin was a master at Mario Kart. You tried to keep up with him (and Jungkook, who’d entered the living room before Jin started the game.)

But it was over for you when you looked over at Jin. It was too easy to get lost in his shining eyes and victorious laughter when he edged ahead in the race.

At the end of the round, you leaned against his shoulder. “‘M tired.”

He paused the game and plucked a pillow from the couch. “Lay down. I like to think I'm more comfy than the floor.”

You hugged the pillow to your chest, laying your head on his lap. You craned your neck to look up at him, smirking at the adorable tinge of red on his face and ears. The satisfaction transformed into a softer, rosy-hued emotion as you admired the intensity in his eyes.

Beautiful. He was in his element, playing a game he loved.

Your eyes fluttered shut. Even the grumbles of frustration when his cart fell behind didn’t tug you farther away from the realm of slumber.

The living room was gone, replaced by the dining room. Jin was standing in front of you. You were holding several forget-me-not flowers out to him. In his hands, the blue darkened to purple before fading into pink.

“What flower is that?”

He tucked it behind your ear. “It's saxifrage, butterfly.”

The stem was poking your cheek. You swiped at the sensation. It didn’t depart - if anything, the prodding intensified.

You blinked to see Jin, his index finger hovering above your face. Jungkook was splayed out on the couch behind him, fast asleep.

He broke into a grin. “You were out for an hour, sleepyhead.”

You stretched. “Well, I guess it’s time to go then.”

“Actually…” he pursed his lips. “If you want to, we could have dinner. I don’t really have time to make anything, but we could do takeout.”

You poked his cheek in retaliation, then swiped your thumb across his lips. They parted under your touch. “I’d love that.”

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

Lisa landed a job as a journalist and moved out of the apartment.

Jin responded to the news with apprehension. “I don’t want you to be alone. You could try living with us.”

“That’s...I still have five months left on the lease. Besides, I can’t live with seven people, Jin, even if they’re your family. I need a separate bathroom.”

“Oh. Right.” He sighed over the phone.

“Did you hear back from the college yet?”

“Not yet. But I think I’ll be accepted...at least, I hope so.”

“They’d be crazy not to. You already have a good record with them.”

You could tell he was smiling. “Thanks, butterfly.”

“How’s Jungkook doing right now?”

Relief saturated his voice. “He got a good report from his doctor. They said he’s in remission.”

“That’s great! Tell him I said ‘Good job! Don’t overdo it.’”

He chuckled. “I will.”

The door to Jin’s house opened before you could even knock. He leaned against the doorframe, with his forearm bearing most of his weight and his ankles crossed.

And his outfit...You raised an eyebrow. He was stunning, but you didn’t understand why he’d donned a fitted black suit when you were just coming over to hang out. At least, you’d thought it was a casual invitation. Then again, he had mentioned that he’d kicked his brothers out for a few hours.

His ears were turning a condemning shade of red the longer you stared at him.

“Jin…? Did you have ulterior motives, perhaps?”

“...Maybe a few..?”

You took a step closer. “I don’t mind them, Jin. Not from you, not like this.”

“Oh…” A small tremor ran through him as you grasped his tie.

“Although you didn’t need to dress up. If you could see yourself...well, besides through a mirror. You’re breathtaking, Jin.”

“Ah...okay.” Jin looked down at himself, a seed of doubt flickering in his expression. As if you could possibly be talking about anyone else.

You laughed softly. “Come here, you ridiculous man.” Tugging on his tie, you connected lips. His tongue swiped along your bottom lip, asking for entrance that you eagerly granted.

Jin’s hands settled on the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. He lifted you into the air as you flung your arms around his neck. Your legs wrapped around his middle before he supported your thighs.

You nibbled on his pierced earlobe, blowing a soft breath out and watching the silver drop earring sway. His grip tightened on you.

“Jin?”

“Yeah?”

Glimmers of moonlight reflected in his eyes.

You have the most beautiful heart.

How was I lucky enough to have these moments with you?

“I’m really happy we met, you know.” As he entered his room, you nudged the door shut with your foot.

“Me too.” Everything about Jin seemed impossibly tender. His voice, his eyes, his smile. He lowered you onto the bed with the same amount of care.

You shimmied out of your jeans, using his shoulder for balance. Your shirt landed on the floor next as you knelt. You undid his belt and started sliding his dress pants down his toned thighs, palming his bulge as you went. Above you, Jin let out a quiet groan, his fingers momentarily frozen in their descent of his shirt buttons.

Heat pooled in your core as he took time to fold his clothes and hang them over the back of a chair. He was playing with you now, you were sure. There was no way he didn’t know how much you yearned for his touch.

When he was within reach, you tangled a hand in his hair and slotted your mouth against his.

His hands slid up your bare back, lingering at the bra band. The fabric pressed into your skin before falling.

Jin pulled away. The lunar glow of his irises had been swallowed by a starless night. “I want to see all of you.”

A shiver raced down your spine. Breathless, you let the garment drop to the floor, followed by your underwear.

“Sit back properly, Y/N.”

You didn’t look away from him as you scooted backwards, into a nest of pillows. He sank to his knees. “Can I go down on you, butterfly?”

Butterfly.

You trembled at that, how he could call you so innocently, yet resemble nothing but temptation. His pupils were blown out in lust, his honey skin gleaming with a light sheen of sweat, and his lips swollen with your kisses.

“Yes.” You managed. “But you still have boxers on.”

He smiled at that. “I’m taking care of you right now. Lay back and relax.”

A yelp escaped when he gripped your thighs, lifting your lower body in order to place a pillow there. He propped himself up on his elbows.

Jin’s hair was silky, brushing against your skin as he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh. His thumb glided along your folds, paying attention to your clit. His tongue circled the bundle of nerves, switching between broad swipes and targeted licks.

Your body jolted when he inserted a finger past your entrance, curling it inside you. He lapped up the juices, his gaze flicking to yours.

A fresh wave of arousal hit you.

The casual way Jin had held you captive with just a look...he’d taken root in your life, to the point that you’d suffer without him. You’d recover, eventually.

You always did.

But not at full health. Your body couldn’t even remember what that was like, and your mind struggled to process the distance between who you were ‘before,’ and who you were ‘after.’

“Butterfly?” Jin called you back. He’d sat up.

You blinked. “Yeah?”

“You looked...sad.”

You rested your forehead against his. “It’s not much. I’m just grateful to have you in my life.”

His hands cupped your face. Searching your eyes, he asked, “Do you still want to continue?”

He saw the confirmation as you spoke, “Yes.”

Jin removed his boxers, tossing them on the floor. He positioned his cock at your folds and eased into you, watching your reactions. You bit your lip at the beginning of each movement, and let out a little sigh as pleasure overwhelmed any fading discomfort.

When he bottomed out, Jin touched your cheek. “Can I move, baby?” At your nod, he rolled his hips, delivering controlled, powerful strokes.

“Perfect for me.” He rasped. “My beautiful butterfly.” Jin intertwined his fingers with yours, gazing down at you. Locks of hair curled against his forehead, his earrings catching light with every thrust.

You dragged your nails across his back. His shoulders were incredibly broad, tapering to his more delicate waist. Despite all the power he possessed, he was one of the most gentle people you knew.

He bent his head. You felt a slight sting above your collarbone, but he soothed the love bite with his tongue. He latched onto a breast, teasing the sensitive bud and stoking the fire in your core. It raced along your nerves, leaving them alight and craving more.

Perhaps Jin was the best (non-medicinal) cure for you.

You traced his jaw, lightly hooking a finger under his chin and urging him further over you. You nosed at the hollow of his throat, and a moan tumbled from his lips. When you nipped at his skin and laved the mark, his hips stuttered.

“Y/N,” his voice had deepened, “I don’t wanna hold back anymore.”

You looked into his eyes. “Then don’t.”

“On your knees.” Ji-...Seokjin growled.

You scrambled to obey. His palms pressed into your shoulder blades, guiding your hands flat against the bed. You melted inside at the dual caress on either side of your spine, and swallowed a whimper when his hands became rough, kneading your ass.

“Let me hear your pretty voice.” He sank into your warmth.

Seokjin set a brutal pace, pounding into you. His panting, the slap of skin against skin, and your ragged breathing intermingled. You were hurtling towards the edge of release, but a wave of bone-deep weariness was licking at your heels.

His rhythm slowed. You had time to wonder if Seokjin or Jin was in charge, before his hand pushed your legs apart. He rubbed circles on your clit, varying the pressure of his touch.

You were falling apart under Seokjin’s skilled fingers, but the oncoming orgasm sapped your strength. Your arms shook, threatening to give out. Unable to fight the fatigue creeping in around your joints and limbs any longer, you gasped, “I can’t..Jin, I’m exhausted.”

He pulled out. In equal, warring measure, your body ached for rest and to have him inside you again.

You curled into a ball, listening to his steps fade. He was back within a minute, his touch and voice soft when he placed a hand on your shoulder. “Y/N?”

You made a muffled noise, hidden by the pillow. His weight sank into the bed. You lifted your head reluctantly when he stayed silent. “Jin...I'm so sorry.”

He shook his head. “You did your best, baby.”

Your lip quivered as you cast your gaze down. “-...do better for you.”

“I know.” He started to dab at your neck with a damp cloth. “You’re more important, Y/N. There are other ways to get off.”

You sat up slowly. Jin’s hand moved to your shoulder.

A strangled noise left your throat when you glanced downwards. You should’ve known, since he hadn’t climaxed earlier.

Actually seeing his erection made it sink in.

“How can I help you?”

“You don’t need to do anything.”

You were begging now, tears welling in your eyes. “Jin, baby, please. Let me help you.”

He wrenched his gaze away from your pleading, heartsick expression. “I’m sorry.”

You threw the duvet over your head, but it didn’t dampen the sound of running water in the next room.

He was taking a shower.

The tears overflowed.

You wanted to be his equal. He’d focused so much on your own pleasure, forgoing his own.

The shower stopped not long after. You burrowed closer to the wall, bunching the duvet in your fists to hold it down.

His steady footsteps halted at the edge of the bed. “Can you let me in, butterfly?”

Your resolve wavered, and you released the fabric. Cool air brushed against your back as you heard him get into bed. The duvet fell again, covering you up to the shoulder.

Jin embraced you from behind. His palm radiated warmth against your stomach, and he hooked his leg over yours.

You tried to wriggle out of his arms. “How can you want to touch me now?”

His voice was unsteady. “Because you’re my miracle, Y/N.”

“But I didn’t...you wouldn’t….I didn’t help you.”

“I didn’t want you to because you’re exhausted, butterfly. When you feel up to it, you can.”

You clamped a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle your sobs.

“Shh, baby. It’s okay.” Jin whispered into your ear. He didn’t loosen his hold, and you placed your other hand on his forearm.

Not to push him away, but to reassure him you understood. That you were grateful...for everything. And that you’d try your hardest to have him finish with you.

He listened to your breathing even out and felt your body go lax as sleep claimed you. A small twinge of regret flashed through him when he remembered the letter he’d received.

He’d tell you later, he decided. You needed rest, not excitement (even if you had been awake.)

----

“This is amazing, Jin!” You were beaming by the time you reached the end of his letter. “When does the program start?”

“September 5th.” He was smiling too, his dream glowing in his eyes.

Pride fluttered in your chest. “You’ll be great, baby. Wait-” A slight frown marred your forehead. “Is that why you had a suit on before? To celebrate?”

“Well...yes. It was the first reason, anyway.”

You covered your face with your hands. “Oh god. I just assumed...fuck. I’m sorry, Jin.”

He almost laughed, but guessed that would not have been the kindest reaction. “No, there was that too. I posed in the doorway like that to seduce you.”

You snorted, but it was betrayed by the warm curve of your lips. “Of course.”

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

His reason for wanting to be a nurse was simple. Two of the most important people in his life depended heavily on the hospital and its staff. He knew how important it was to have well-functioning hospitals, not just for you and Jungkook, but for everyone.

You were just happy to see him working towards his dream. You had no doubt that he'd be able to play a part in other people’s lives.

Jin had a healing presence, after all.

__

copyright : 2021, berryjam17

[atc74]

The One With The Letter

Square(s) Filled: Breakup for @spngenrebingo, Free Space for BTZ Bingo

Warnings: breakups, angst, tears, angst, confessions, love, fluff, implied future smut

Summary: After another break up, Dean can’t just sit back anymore. Will he be the man of action like we know him to be, or will he surprise us all?

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1585

Written for: @supernatural-jackles Bi-Weekly Writing Challenge (prompts in bold) and @smol-and-grumpy Nat’s SuperFriends Title Challenge

Beta’d by: @amanda-teaches

A/N: Thank you to my cheerleader and friend @waywardbeanie, for always saying the things I need to hear. Inspired by Billy Joel’s An Innocent Man, lyrics have been worked into the fic throughout. 

Like Dean’s scent? Buy it here from @scentsfromthebunker!

From the curved entry of her front door, Dean watches as his best friend, his rock, weeps. Another failed relationship that she no doubt blames herself for. But the truth was, she was attracted to a certain type of guy. A clean shiny penny on the outside, but on the inside, worth less than that. Not a single man she had dated in the last few years had treated her even close to how she deserves to be treated. How he could treat her. How he wants to treat her. No matter what, Dean is always there to hold her, to pick up her pieces and hold them together until she finds the strength to move forward.  

Y/N had been there for him when he hit rock bottom, too. A string of terrible relationships with women who would never hold a candle to her. That is why they failed. He knew that going in and yet, he kept going. For the last few years, she has been the only woman for him. He tries to make her see it, between douchebags, but he can never get through to her. He has been biding his time. Maybe, just maybe, tonight she’ll listen to him.

Because, he is an innocent man in this situation. He has never hurt her, has never lied to her. He hates seeing her like this. If she opens that door, lets someone in, fearful of a touch, living with the anger of having been a fool. She will not listen to anyone so nobody tells her a lie. For three weeks, he stops over each night after work to find her in this state of pain and anguish. With measured movements, he lowers himself to the sofa beside her, pulling her blanket a little tighter around her. Y/N involuntarily flinches at the soft touch. 

Sniffling and wiping at her eyes, Y/N pushes him away. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

“I know you don’t, sweetheart, and you don’t have to. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to see me either, but I wanted to see you. See how you’re holding up,” Dean’s soft voice rumbles through her small living room. 

Dean murmurs gently, his words encroaching further on her space. “I’m not going to talk to you if that’s not what you want. Please call me later, Y/N. You can’t ignore me forever. Let me know you’re okay.” 

“I don’t owe you an explanation, Dean,” she snaps, immediately regretting her words, her tone. Dean is always here. Each and every time she fails, he is right here to mend her broken pieces. “I’m sorry.” 

“No, you don’t owe me anything, Y/N/N. I just want you to feel better, and I’ll do anything to see you smile again,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” 

With that, Dean rises from the worn sofa, dropping an envelope from his jacket pocket before turning and leaving, the door clicking loudly behind him. He uses the spare key she gave him to secure the lock, a heavy sigh leaving his lips. “I love you, Y/N.”

~*~

The daily alarm wakes her from a fitful slumber. Y/N blinks slowly, trying to clear the cobwebs of sorrow and tears from her heavy eyes. The first rays of sunlight dance across flecks of dust floating in the air, landing on the cluttered coffee table, illuminating the plain white envelope, her name written across the front in Dean’s simple block lettering. 

A small hand snakes out from the beneath the warm blanket, snatching the envelope from its resting place. With shaking fingers, Y/N opens it and scans the letters scrawled across the page. She takes a deep breath and starts at the beginning. 

Y/N, 

I know you’ve been through some shit, none of which you deserve. None of it was your fault, so stop blaming yourself. You’ve been my rock so long, I don’t know what I’d do without you by my side. I’ll be here for you through anything, good or bad, come Hell or highwater. 

I know you don't want to hear what I say. I know you're gonna keep turning away. But, I've been there and if I can survive, then I know you can, too. I can keep you alive. I'm not above going through it again, for you. I’ll do anything for you. 

I know you’re only protecting yourself. I know you’re thinking of somebody else. Someone who hurt you, but I’m not above making up for the love you’ve been denying you could ever feel. I'm not above doing anything to restore your faith if I can. Faith in humanity, in men, in me. 

I’ve held on to these feelings for you so long, too afraid to open my big mouth and lose the best thing that ever happened to me. But I can’t keep it to myself any more. I don’t just want to be the one to comfort you when you’re hurting, I want to be the one to protect you and keep you safe, so you don’t hurt anymore. I want to be the reason you smile, because you’ve been mine since the moment we met. 

Some people say they will never believe another promise they hear in the dark, because they only remember too well they heard somebody tell them before. I know you’ve heard them before, but this is my first promise to you, I will never make you a promise I don’t intend to keep. 

I don’t want to sleep alone every night. I want you by my side, to curl into you, create a safe space for you to just be, to feel, to be loved. 

But, I've been there and if I can survive, I can keep you alive. I'm not above going through it again. I'm not above being cool for a while, so if you're cruel to me I'll understand. That's your decision, but I'm not below anybody I know if there's a chance of resurrecting a love. I'm not above going back to the start to find out where the heartache began. To hold you until you believe the promises I whisper. To hold you until you believe that I’ll never hurt you. To hold you until you believe in you, in me...in us. 

I’d never do anything to ruin what we have. I guess some people hope for a miracle cure, or some people just accept the world as it is. But, I'm not willing to lay down and die without you, not without a fight. I’ll fight for us, but more importantly, I’ll fight for you. 

All my love always, 

Dean

Through the tears, Y/N reads his letter over and over until she can no longer see. Wiping her eyes, she unlocks her phone and shoots him a text. With new found resolve, she jumps in the shower. When she emerges from the steam, feeling better than she has in months, she finds her best friend sitting on her sofa. 

“Thank you for coming, Dean. After I pushed you away last night, I didn’t know if you would,” she whispers, taking a seat next to him. 

“I’ll always be here when you need me, or want me. You know that, Y/N,” Dean assures her, taking her hands in his. “I see you read my letter.” 

“It’s always been you, I was just too scared and selfish, and foolish to see it,” she replies, shaking her thoughts loose. “I never thought my feelings would be reciprocated. Nobody’s ever written me a love letter before.”

“I knew I couldn’t say all of that out loud, I was so scared to say anything, I didn’t want to lose you. I guess we’re a couple of idiots, huh?” Dean chuckles. 

“We found each other. That’s all that matters,” Y/N smiles, resting her head on his shoulder. 

“I don’t know about you, but I could use a nap,” Dean yawns, running his fingers through her hair. 

“Didn’t sleep well?” she questions, looking up at him. 

“Not when I slept on the floor outside your door.” 

“You did not!” Y/N smacks his shoulder playfully. 

“I bet the neighbors know my name,” he grins sheepishly, pointing at his work shirt, his name clearly on display. 

“Not how you hoped that would happen, is it?” Y/N giggles, teasing him.

“It made you laugh, though. I missed it; your laugh, your smile,” Dean says, cupping her cheek. “I missed you.” 

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles. 

“Don’t be. Where there is no struggle, there is no strength. We will be strong together,” Dean vows. 

“Did you just quote Oprah Winfrey?” she laughs.

“I did. You’re a bad influence on me, what can I say?” he shrugs.

“Let’s get some rest. We can be bad together later,” she winks, rising from her seat and reaching out her hand for him. 

“Can we fight so we can have some angry make-up sex later?” Dean smirks, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Slow down, Winchester. Nap first. We’re only about ten minutes in, I don’t know if I’m ready to have our first fight yet,” she scoffs. 

“Well, if it helps, it will probably be my fault and I’ll spend hours apologizing,” Dean offers. 

“So the neighbors really know your name?” she giggles. 

“As long as you keep laughing and smiling, I don’t care what they call me, as long as you call me yours.”

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