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writingsfromhome · 9 months ago

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Dos and Don’ts III

A/N: firstly apologies for the wait and secondly I absolutely did not want to cut this into another part but here we are 😢 I think this will change some ppls opinions oops dont hate me

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

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I couldn’t put my finger on it but something was off in my life; I felt disconnected from myself, my friends, and most importantly from Gray. But getting Gray to communicate when he didn’t want to could feel like pulling teeth. And I was no dentist.

I figured the solution was to stubbornly throw myself into work. After all, with Harry’s European tour starting March there was always a lot to do.

“Nice of you to get here so early,” Harry says as I step off the elevators just before 9–an hour later than I usually do.

“I had dry cleaning to pick up,” I ignore his sarcasm. “Your tour fits aren’t going to magically appear in the penthouse as nice as that would be for me.”

I keep my tone light, joking, but it’s passive just as he is. And he can’t call passive out.

That’s what working for Harry has been like since December. It was winter outside these walls and inside.

I had originally decided to let it all go after sitting with the party’s events that weekend but upon arriving to work Harry had been particular asshole-ish and I decided two could play at the game. It was like the holiday party never happened. And I was okay with that.

“If they did, I wouldn’t need you would I?” Harry takes on the same tone I do.

Asshole, “yeah, how nice would that be.”

I walk away to his closet to hang up the garment bags.

“You still have two fits that need final fitting. For today, you’ve got a 2pm for your ear plugs and monitors,” I say as I walk back into the main living space. I take in Harry in his bathrobe and bedhead and realize he must be hungover. Which meant extra grumpy. “Also a meeting before noon with Jeff—he’s sick so he’ll do a Zoom. And rehearsals start tomorrow at 8am.”

The long-awaited tour he was rehearsing for was 2 months long and with his tour manager joining him I’d be kind of redundant. We agreed I’d start the tour with him, and then end it as he came back to the UK but I’d take a break in between.

“Good,” Harry sits on a barstool and as the robe parts I hoped he was wearing something underneath. “Are you joining rehearsals?”

“Tomorrow yeah,” I instinctively start tidying the coffee table littered with Harry’s activities from last night. There’s empty bottles and unused rolling papers, takeout containers and unopened bottles.

“Can you stop that,” Harry snaps. He’s wincing when I look up. “The clinking—it’s too loud.”

His second statement comes out softer but it doesn’t make him any less irritating.

“I’ll just toss these ones,” I take the ones I’d gathered in my hand.

“So,” he carries on with the earlier conversation. “Just tomorrow yeah?”

“Yep, to make sure everyone’s there, forms are signed, and all that. Jeff will drop by too. Otherwise I’ll just be there once a week or so since I have other things to complete.”

“So you’ll enjoy the full glory of the show once it’s live on stage?”

“I guess.”

“Please y/n reign in the excitement, it’s just too much.” Harry flexes his sarcasm again.

I look up from the other side of the island and lock eyes with him. With one bottle still in my hand I don’t put it in gently, instead letting it drop onto the others in the bin. His face twists in pain and I get my hit of satisfaction.

“I am excited,” I continue. “I’ll be more excited when you get on tour but right now I’m buried under an insane amount of logistics and stuff. So I’m just pacing myself.”

“Glad you got that out of your system,” he slides off the stool. “Are you sure you want to join tour? It takes a toll.”

“What? Am I taking up the space you reserved for groupies?” I goad.

He pretends to think, “No…we’ve got a whole other bus for that.”

“Great,” I smile. “Then I’ll definitely be there for the start of your tour, cheering you on.”

“Not too hard though,” Harry grabs a water from the fridge and heads towards the bedrooms. “Can’t have all of y/n’s enthusiasm overshadowing my fans.”

I roll my eyes behind his back and choose not to respond, as tempting as it was.

By the end of the week I’ve met everyone that’ll be joining the tour, taken copies of a million contracts and filed a billion papers.

It’s Saturday night and we’re heading home from the studio. Harry, in a twist of kindness, offers to drop me home.

“You don’t live too far,” he comments as we get closer to my building.

“Yeah, I was surprised with that.” It was a stroke of luck having a short commute.

“How does Mr. Duran feel about you coming on tour?”

I throw him a look but he sits there smug, waiting. “Well he’s not keen on me being away from home for so long but otherwise he’s fine.”

“Is he?” Harry extends his knee to nudge mine, irritating me. Just a few more minutes.

“Yes.” I turn to look out the window, no longer interested in the conversation. In reality Gray had been pretty upset that I’d be travelling the continent with womanizer Harry Styles. I’d soothed his fears but he was hard-headed about it.

Originally I’d saved the conversation to be had after New Year’s to not ruin the holidays but Josie had brought up tickets for the tour during Christmas dinner and although I played it off then, he’d been in a mood since.

“You’re an awful liar,” Harry says. I don’t respond. Luckily I’m home.

I figured Sunday, on my day off, Gray and I could catch up and spend quality time together. Maybe iron out some of our kinks. But he tells me he had a few sessions and I’m left alone for most of the day, convinced Gray booked them on purpose but not wanting to admit what that meant.

The following Thursday night, Gray and I finally collide after I’d spent the week stewing in my anger and anxieties.

“Why won’t you just talk to me? I feel like I’m living with a stranger these days.” The conversation starts out semi-tamed as we wash up for dinner.

“You feel that way? Well I’ve seen my fiancée for less than 48 hours a week this last year. Talk about being a stranger.”

“I’ve been taking more time off,” I wonder when he decided to count the number of hours. But it was true—I’d started doing a half-days on most Saturdays and coming home earlier on week nights. Like tonight, I’d been home by half past 6. “I’ve been trying to spend more time at home.”

“Too little too late,” Gray mutters.

“What?”

“I just mean,” he sighs. “I…y/n, we barely get time together. We’re like flatmates these days aren’t we? We haven’t-“

“Don’t you dare Gray,” I wasn’t having this. I refused to hear what he was trying to get at.

“Y/n don’t be difficult-“

“Difficult!? You can’t go radio silent on me and then decide 3 years can just go down the drain.”

“I’m not saying that-“

“Then what are you saying!?”

The silence rings to the corners of our kitchen. The dishes are long forgotten, suds drip down my elbow and onto the floor, and Gray’s towel hangs like a white flag beside him.

“You knew what this job meant—you work with the same clientele, and you encouraged me to go for it. I’m trying to be better I don’t get it.” I finally say.

“I’m saying something needs to change.”

What takes me back the most is the even—even apathetic, tone. It’s the fact that he must have been thinking on this for long enough to be so level-headed about it.

Who has he talked to, I wonder. His sister? Our friends? Who’s advised him to go in this direction because the Grayson I know wouldn’t do me like this. Couldn’t.

Are you even the y/n Grayson knows, a small voice asks in my head.

“We’ve changed, I get it.” My tone takes a pleading ring to it and I hate it. “But you can’t just decide this isn’t worth fighting for Gray-“

“I’m not Y/n,” he puts the towel to the side and grabs my arms. “I’m not throwing anything away but we need to bloody figure something out because…I’m unhappy. And can you really say our relationship is the same? Can you call what we’re in a relationship?”

“Why not?” I whisper, tears choking me. “I thought we love each other and we support each other and-and we see each other through thick and thin.”

“I love you,” Gray squeezes. “And I know we’ve seen each other through thick and thin but…I don’t know if I can keep supporting you at the expense of us.”

“Well what do you want?” I look up into his brown eyes. They’re steady like they usually were.

“I want you, selfishly. I want all of you.”

He had what he wanted, didn’t he get that? He had me. I don’t know what more of me I could give him. And that thought tears me right through.

“What happened to setting a date?” Gray steps back and takes his steady grip with him. I sink into the countertop behind me. “What happened to planning for our future? Marriage and kids and buying a home and doing something more?”

His voice raises as he talks.

“I feel like I’ve been living in limbo for the last year! Just waiting around for you. I don’t know how much longer I can wait-“

“We can set a date,” I say. “We can do all that! You-you haven’t brought up any of it either! If it’s been weighing on your mind why don’t you ever just say something!?”

“I shouldn’t have to!”

I’d hit a nerve. We’d had this conversation a dozen times.

“Of course you do! Like, I’m not a mind reader you’ve been stewing in these feelings for god knows how long and now you’re telling me you’re thinking of-of-of ending things!?”

There, I’d said it.

His face contorts into a flurry of emotions. My body feels ragged just saying these things out loud.

“When I spoke to Stewart and Bex they said-“

“Stewart and…” I was right he’s been talking. “You were talking to Stew and Bex!? Since when did you spend time with Bex?”

“Since I had a lot of time alone at home.”

Fuck, he managed to get the upper hand all the time with that one valid point he had.

“They both agreed with me that this isn’t right. I’m allowed to be upset and ask you for something to change-“

“But why didn’t you talk to me!” The switch to anger is quick when he admits he was talking to our friends. I think about the last few times we saw them—had they been judging me? Had Gray told them by then?

Gray tries to brush past and tell me more about his validated feelings, about how things had changed. I can’t hear anymore.

“This decision you seem to want to make for both of us should involve me too and yet you make it the talk of the town before consulting me. I’m so goddamn tired of the way you shut down Gray I-“

“I’m tired!” He butts in. “I’m tired of watching things change and being forced to move past it.”

I stare at him. He’s not bending whatsoever. He’s not even understanding the frustration at being the last to know his feelings on our fucking relationship. Didn’t he understand how iced out that made me feel? When I’ve been trying to be as mindful as I can?

“You know what Gray,” I sneer. “You talk about us changing but did you ever think that we’ve been changing since we first met!? The only thing that’s different now is we stopped talking!”

I throw the rest of the dishes into the soapy water and storm out to the only safe haven I had right now—our bed.

Everyone wanted parts of me I couldn’t give and I felt torn to shreds! I hardly recognized the girl in the mirror, I hardly remembered what it felt like to be me.

The only time I felt centered, a bit of calm, was here. With Gray.

And now I knew the feelings weren’t mutual. He’d been thinking of ending things while I had curled in his arms. While I had kissed him goodnight and hello. While we had dinner or drinks. While we hung out with friends who were privy to all the cracks in our relationship. Who knows how long it had been a one-sided feeling.

I bury my head into my pillow wanting to scream and cry at the same time. My head hurts but mostly my heart hurts. I feel betrayed by my bestest friend and the person I love the most.

You’re no better, the ugly voice in my head shows up again. You’ve done things you should be ashamed of.

I block the voice out. I block it all out until all I feel is numb.

Gray doesn’t come to bed at all that night. I drag myself out of the nest I’d created some time around midnight, thinking he fell asleep on the sofa. To tell him to come to bed since I knew our sofa wasn’t long enough for him to even fit on.

I sway in the middle of the empty living room. There’s nobody here. Definitely not Gray. He’d left altogether, to wherever he’s been finding refuge recently.

It hits me; I think I’ve done this to myself. I was alone. Really alone.

***

The scowl is permanently etched onto my face as I go about my Friday morning. I feel Harry’s eyes on me a few times but even he doesn’t broach the subject. We silently maneuver around each other until he leaves for rehearsal.

I think about calling my friends to talk about this but I realize all my friends who were up to date on my life had become interwoven with Gray’s. And I already know Gray complained about my job to them based on a few parties last year. So they definitely wouldn’t be unbiased listening to anything I said.

I regret then, not staying in touch more with my friends back home. For the first time in years I feel a bit homesick.

I decide busying myself with work would be the only thing to keep me sane so I throw on headphones and get down to business.

As the day starts to come to an end I put on Harry’s stereo with the mournful songs that had been comforting me today and grab a seltzer from the fridge. He wouldn’t be home until 8 tonight and he’s always been open about using whatever was in the general living spaces.

So I nearly have a heart attack when I see a shadow from the corner of my eyes around 6.

I give a shout when it comes with a voice and once my senses return I realize it’s just a sweaty Harry back early from rehearsal.

“What? Are you doing here!?” I press on my pounding heart. “Alexa music off.”

He’s grinning at the way I reacted and now he laughs, it’s a bending-over laugh and I chuckle myself as I replay how dramatic it all was.

“Wow.” He says when he finally catches his breath. “I wish I had that on video.”

“Jesus,” I swear. “I thought you’d be home a lot later.”

“So this is what happens when I’m not home,” he teases.

“Only on Fridays,” I collapse into the closest chair and tilt my head back. “God, I thought there was like, an intruder or something. Or a ghost.”

He laughs again, moving to the kitchen for a water. “Good thing ghosts don’t exist.”

“They so do.” I reply.

“There’s no proof that’s ever convinced me they exist.”

“You live a sad skeptical life Mr. Styles.” My breathing is finally regulated and I sit up to look at him. “I’ve seen one myself when I was a teen. I wish I could be a disbeliever like you.”

“You’ll have to tell me the story,” he leans on the island looking very amused.

“I will,” I accept his challenge.

“I cut rehearsals short,” he continues. “I’m knackered from this week. I just want to be one with my couch and get drunk and not worry about what moves to do and what song to sing.”

“Yeah,” he looked tired and his hair was getting a bit shaggy. He runs his hand through the damp curls. “I need a shower and I think I should do a trim.”

“Consider it booked,” I pull the phone towards me and text his usual stylist. I hear him move around the space and pause before he disappears down the hall.

“Are you heading home soon?” He asks.

“Hm?” I kill time responding, acting like I didn’t hear his response. I didn’t want to go home at all. I didn’t even know if Gray was home or not and I didn’t want to find out. Harry repeats his question. “No. I wanted to wrap up some things. I can move to the office if you wanted the space to chill out?”

He shrugs and tells me I could go where I want.

I wanted to be out of the way, and not home. So I move to the office. The same office where weeks ago I’d teetered on the edge of a fatal decision and now was faced with the possibility of that decision made for me.

I slump in the seat and take a moment to just decompress. A headache creeps around my eyes and I just feel lost and hurt and alone.

When I break the laptop open again I move like a slug, scraping the barrel of effort and coming up with nil.

“Uh y/n?” Harry’s head pops into the door a while later.

“Yeah?” I blink up at him, still in slug mode.

He stares at me a second, “Do you have plans tonight? You could…join me in doing nothing?”

When was the last time I did nothing? I couldn’t remember. And it sounded like a distraction—not a good one, but one that helped me avoid home for longer.

“Sure?” I respond.

Harry blinks. “Oh. Brilliant. Finish what you’re doing if you’d like or you can join me now. Oh. Could you also order us some pizza or something that’s greasy and bad for us?”

I liked the direction of this. I feel my sluggish feeling slide away. “I can do that.”

“Good. Great. This is going to be a good night.”

He moves away as he talks and his last sentence is shouted from down the hall. I smile, relieved to do something like this.

I consider texting Gray, but decide against it. He left last night without a word, making me worried and today there’s been radio silence. I wasn’t in the mood to take the high road.

I do as Harry asks. Meanwhile Harry had put on some peppier music and brought out a six-pack from the fridge. His head is buried in the pantry rummaging through.

“What do you need?” I come up behind him.

“Oh,” he pops out. “Looking for some sweets. I’m sure I have some somewhere.”

“Oh yeah!” I close the doors he’s looking in and open the top cabinet. His eyes light up when he spots the options. “Food’s on its way by the way.”

He rubs his hands and starts pulling things off the pantry. It’s a different energy than any before, he’s not picking on me or ordering me around. He’s just inviting me to be on the ins with him. My instinct is to stay quiet and see where it goes but I shake it off.

“Are we just playing with beer tonight or is wine on the menu?” I ask. I hated the taste of beer.

“It could?” He unloads the pile in his arms onto the island and starts rummaging through the wines. “How about this one?”

A white. I take it from him and head for some glasses.

We end up making a buffet for ourselves on the coffee table and when the pizza comes we settle in, chatting occasionally about the things around us.

“So what does doing nothing involve?” I ask when we’re situated on the couch. Harry’s left a few feet of space between us which is very appreciated. I pull my feet up. “Because I have to say it’s been a while and I don’t know how to do nothing.”

He laughs, throwing his head back. I find myself grinning in response.

“Touché mon amie.”

“Okay I actually got that,” I nod.

“Do you speak french?” He asks as he opens the wine and pours us both a glass, mine’s a lot more full than his.

“No but I spent a month in Paris when I was in uni,” I savour the sour flavours of the wine as it coats my mouth and settles me down. “So I learned the bare minimum. Now all I can say is bonjour, ca beigne? And also un verre du vin s’il vous plait?”

“So you cut right to the chase—hey are you alright? A glass of wine thanks. Now leave me alone.”

We laugh and I hold up my glass, “I was hoping you’d get the hint. Why is mine so full anyway?”

“I’m just drinking some so you don’t have to drink it alone. Then I’m gonna crack on with the beer.”

“Oh!” There he had to go and be thoughtful again. “Forget it, I will happily drink the bottle. Drink whatever you want.”

“Yeah?” He leans forward to put his glass down.

I lean over and pour his measly amount into mine. “There, you’ve done the sharing part.”

“So y/n,” he asks after we’ve grabbed our respective snacks of choice. “Can I ask why you were listening to all those ballads before I came in?”

“I need to get a bit more drunk before I do that,” I down some more wine, already feeling the buzz of it. Obviously this was not the cheap wine I generally had.

“Alright we’ll get you there,” he promises. His eyes flicker from his phone to me and back to his phone. “Uhh could I show you something?”

“Like what?”

“We’re releasing the MV for one of my songs a week before I go on tour right.”

“Right,” I name the single that’s been thrown around countless times this week.

“I got back the deck for what it’ll look like. I’m excited can I show it to you?”

It’s endearing, in a way, how eager he is to show it. His cheeks even have spots of pink.

“Uh yeah! Let’s see it!”

“Cool,” he grins. He turns on the TV and casts whatever video is on his phone to the screen. He gives me some background on how it was setting up a whole storyline and how they’ve already started filming some of the scenes.

“The shooting starts the week after this one right?”

“Yeah, I’ll be in Scotland for a few days. You’re joining me right?”

“Yes! I’m excited to see all the action myself.” I had signed up for the 4-day trip with zero hesitation. As someone who’s always been making up stories and concepts to most music I listened to, getting to see the bts for an MV was a dream come true.

“Really?” He asks.

“Yeah, it’s real excitement I promise.”

“You’re interested in it?”

“Yeah! I love music videos, it creates a whole new experience for a song we’ve probably listened to on repeat. It’s cool!”

“So this is y/n really enthusiastic,” he leans back in the cushions to get me in full. “Now I really know you couldn’t give a rat’s arse about tour.”

“Stop saying that!” I laugh. “I was just stressed. I am excited about all of it okay?”

“So you say,” with a final glance he presses play and I’m entranced as the narration takes us through the plan.

“Umm all I can say is wow.” I turn to him when it’s done. My wine glass had been emptied and my brain had been itched with the most beautiful location and storytelling I’ve seen in a while. “That’s like a mini movie.”

“That’s what I said!” He exclaims. “It’s going to blow everything out of the water.”

“Look at us, doing nothing.” I realize we’d turned around and talked about work.

“Bollocks we’re no good at this.” Harry slides a hand down his face and I laugh at the dramatics. “Let me refill you at least.”

I happily oblige.

We talk about the mv some more, and move onto the tour. Harry asks me about the concerts I’ve been to and we get the kind of excited when you’re tipsy once we find out we were both at a Coldplay concert four years ago in London.

“That would’ve been before the success so I would have been just another bloke to you,” he notes.

“Yeah, imagine we crossed paths then? That would be crazy.”

“If we did, we might still be doing this tonight, just as mates,” he points to between us. “Or you would have fallen in love with me and I would have sacrificed my music to raise our kids.”

“What!?” It’s so absurdly ridiculous that I nearly snort my wine. “Where did that comes from!?”

“Admit it,” he puffs out his chest. “That would have happened. And I’d be so committed-“

“Well you’re assuming that in a 4 year time-span we would get to the point of having kids. So firstly no, secondly who said you had to sacrifice your career?”

“I-“ he stops mid-sentence, looking into the distance.

“Exactly!” I shout. “You’ve got nothing. You’ve just made up a story that makes you sounds good and noble!”

“Fine,” he settles down. “Fine! We never meet and you end up with your Duran bloke and I end up a musician.”

“Is that all I’m reduced to?” I raise my brow. “Who I’m with?”

“No!” He leans between us to pat my leg. It tingles. “No I didn’t mean it like that. You’ll do great things. I just mean the person you end up with isn’t superstar Harry Styles.”

I roll my eyes, “I need more wine if I’m gonna be subjected to any more of this bullshit.”

“Bullshit?!”

“Mhm,” I pop a gummy into my mouth and ignore the look of shock on his face.

“Fine. Then tell me about your bullshit,” he raises his can. “What’s happening to make you so ferocious this morning.”

Oh god. I hold up a finger and shimmy forward for some more wine. I’d drank 2/3 of the bottle and I was definitely tipsy. Maybe I’ll just sip this one.

“Fine. If you want to hear it.”

“I do.”

“I got into a fight with Gray.”

He raises a brow, I continue.

“He’s upset with me and complaining that I work a lot and that he feels like I’m his flatmate!”

“Flatmate with benefits.”

“Shut up!” I groan. “Not the point.”

“Sorry!” He holds his hands up.

“I don’t think he realizes how much of my head is just Gray like, I’m always thinking about him, about what I could do for him and say to him just to make sure he feels seen and reassured and loved! You know I’ve asked you for half-days on Saturdays when you don’t have a lot going on-“

“Mhm,” he nods along.

“I’m like, making sure I’m being a good partner. And apparently he’s been upset and not saying anything.”

“The old silent on the home front.”

“Yes!” I nearly drip wine as I pump my hand. “Yes, on the home front he’s bloody broody and quiet. I knew something was on his mind but like always he’s tight lipped. Even when I asked him a week ago he said he’s just been working a lot. What a liar!”

I complain about how it felt to be iced out of my partner’s emotions and having to guess all the time.

“Then I find out he’s been talking to all our friends to get advice.” Harry raises his brows in judgement and leans back into the sofa, and the small gesture makes me feel so validated. I didn’t realize how much I needed a third-party to just listen to my side of things. Until now, I’d literally not had anyone to talk to about this especially since I avoided talking about work with Gray. I get misty eyed.

“And when we’re talking he’s like so-and-so said this as if I want to know. And!” Now I was on a roll. I put my glass down in fear of spilling it on the pristine sofa and get on my knees to emphasize my frustration. “And the girl he quoted? Get this, I met her—Rebecca—at a job I did like a year ago? And we got along fabulously and I invited her to this party we threw right because she was new to the city and all that. She met my other friends and she fit in so well they invited her the next event. I got her into the group and now she’s talking shit about me with my fiancé behind my back!”

“She’s probably got a thing for your man,” Harry suggests.

“Oh she definitely does!” I’m animated as I continue. “She so does! I’ve caught her making eyes at him before, and laughing a lot whenever he makes a joke. I even mentioned it to him once but he said he didn’t notice.”

“He probably didn’t,” Harry shrugs.

“I know, the male species is a wonder. You get big flirts like you and then otherwise they’re completely oblivious.”

“I’ll have you know when I was a teen, a girl literally gave me a valentine cupcake and I just thought—well I knew she liked to bake, so I thought she just had extras. I didn’t understand why she didn’t speak to me the rest of the year.”

“No way,” I laugh—a lot because the wine was definitely sloshing around in my head, but also I couldn’t imagine Harry being that aloof. “I guess it comes with the ego territory. Were you less of a jerk as a kid?”

His jaw drops. “You just called me a jerk right now. To my face.”

“I did,” I say with glee. I stand to get the full picture of an offended Harry. “And I don’t regret it. So? Were you nicer as a kid?”

“No I’m not answering until you take that back.”

“What! You are a jerk…sometimes! I’m not taking it back!”

“You have to take it back otherwise I will cut you off on the wine.”

I take a step back and stumble as he speaks. Which makes me laugh more. “I think I should cut back. I am a hot mess.”

“At least you’re laughing,” Harry stands too. “It’s world’s different from this morning.”

Just like telling someone not to think of an elephant, I think of the elephant.

“Noo no don’t do that!” Harry rushes towards me and bends down to look me in the eye. “I liked it when you were smiling just now c’mon.”

“Well you reminded me why I was so upset-“

“Can’t stay grumpy, just give me another smile. One smile! Small teeny tiny smile—there it is!”

I can’t help it with his face in mine and the way he’s putting on a voice to get me to smile my face splits in a grin.

“You’re soooo annoying!” I push him but unstable and drunk I fall backwards.

I don’t know what happens next but I’m on the floor looking up into Harry’s concerned face.

“Y/n? Y/n!?”

“Yeah,” my head pounds as I try to make sense of where I am.

“Fuck,” I hear Harry say. He moves away and the overhead light attacks my eyes so I squeeze them shut.

I hear him, panicked, on the phone.

“No!” I try to call out. “M’fine! Don’t even worry-“

“Stay down Y/N,” he’s back by my side. I try to prove to him that I’m okay and sit up but a few inches off the ground and my head feels like it’s full of bees.

“So many bees,” I murmur as I go back down, now a pillow behind my head.

A few minutes later Harry’s helping me up gently. I tell him I wanted to throw up and he helps me to the toilet where I do. Gah. Why did I drink so much.

“I think I’ll head home now,” I hear myself saying to Harry like I was miles away.

“No,” his hands are around my shoulder and holding me upright as we walk out. The lift increases my nausea but I keep my eyes shut.

“I’m going home now,” I tell Harry when we get outside.

“No you’re getting checked out.”

“No!” I shove him away and nearly topple over myself. Why did he have to boss me around all the time? “Stop telling me what to do! My head hurts I’m going home!”

He tries to grab my hand but I yank it off. “Stop! Just stop!”

“Y/n,” Harry’s voice is low and comforting as he gets down in my ear. He smells nice too. “You passed out and you have a headache we have to get you checked out.”

“You’re no fun,” I cross my arms but follow him, only because my headache is so bad. As we get in the car I close my eyes shut as the lights assault them. Harry doesn’t let me sleep on the ride home even though his body is warm and steady beside me. I barely know where I am.

Harry’s POV:

I keep telling myself she would most likely be fine, just like the doctor reassured me but it’s hard not to beat myself up.

I shouldn’t have let her get that drunk, especially upset. I shouldn’t have gotten in her space and caused her to tumble back. I should have done something else.

The guilt is added to when I think of how I spoke to the doctor, demanding they do every scan and not to skip any. I hated who I became sometimes, when I pulled the famous card, but I thought it was necessary right now. Even y/n would give me a pass for using it.

I can’t stop replaying the thud as her head hit the hardwood floor, her eyelids fluttering as I rushed to her, her slack face when she lost consciousness for a moment.

It’s been hours since we came in. The doctor finally heads my way.

“Mr. Styles, your girlfriend is alright,” he holds up his hands before I’m fully standing.

I may have had to say she was my girlfriend after they wouldn’t let me have any say tonight…

“She’ll be alright, you did the right thing getting her here right away.”

“But?”

“No but,” he smiles. “Obviously it’s serious she has a moderate concussion but if she doesn’t exasperate any symptoms—takes it easy the next couple weeks, she’ll be right as rain. We can discharge her once the neurologist confirms. She’s just finishing with another patient right now-“

“She should stay overnight,” I cut him off. His cheeriness was starting to irritate me I felt like he wasn’t taking this seriously enough.

“Oh well,” he laughs but I know I’m irritating him right back. “She will be alright. I can provide you and her with a followup plan-“

“Doctor,” I say. “She’s staying overnight. If I need to rent a bed I’ll do that, tell me what I need to do, but she should stay under observation. Get the care she deserves.”

He pursues his lips, and I wait for him to agree.

“Yep,” he sighs. “I’ll tell the nurse. Just follow me and we can sort the details.”

We do that, I even take a selfie for the nurse’s daughter which grates on the doctor’s nerves even more. He leaves shortly after.

I get y/n’s room and walk there slowly, wondering how to apologize. Ever since December we’ve been playing a game of tennis with words and tonight I felt both of us relax onto the same note. Then this.

She’s sleeping when I get to her. My watch says 1am. She looks peaceful and it hurts even more.

The truth was despite acting like I didn’t, I did like Y/N but she was complicated, and the more I tried to untangle her web the more sticky things became for both of us. I didn’t want to make more mistakes than I have in the past so I’d kept my distance. Even if it hurt both of us.

Tonight was good though. Until it wasn’t. This was why I shouldn’t blur lines. You would think I’d have learned that by now.

I step by her bed, hesitating. Someone has wiped the remains of her makeup off and she looks so much younger. Like a sleeping cherub. My heart gives a squeeze.

I push back a strand of her hair, my hand wanting to do something. I settle for taking her hand in mine, it’s not the first time I’ve held it but like it always does, a flood of warmth rushes through me.

I never understood Victorian romances until her; just touching her hand got my blood pumping.

With a stroke of my thumb over her knuckles, she stirs. I freeze.

Her eyes flicker open, “Hey?”

My voice disappears. There’s too much that I want to say and nothing I’m allowed to say. Maybe a sorry. I open my mouth but she squeezes my hand. I forgot I was still holding hers.

“So much for doing nothing huh?” She cracks a smile and it breaks the marble I’d become encased in. I laugh and collapse onto the sliver of the bed.

“We should never do nothing again.”

“Nope,” she smiles, closing her eyes again.

“Y/N I’m really sorry for tonight. I feel awful-“

Her mouth parts. She was asleep.

I want to sit here with her until she wakes again, until the doctors kick us out. Something about seeing her so vulnerable here makes me want to confess the thing that’s been lodged in my chest for a long time.

I release her hand and move away from the bed. This was dangerous. Maybe I could wait in the waiting room until she’s released. Then take her home.

Something vibrates. It’s not my phone, and then I notice the purse I’d brought with us. Y/N’s.

I peek inside for the phone and her fiancé’s face takes up the screen. He looks younger. And then I remember, it’s like stepping out of the fog this night had put me in and into reality.

I pick up.

“Y/N it’s nearly 2 in the morning just tell me you’re alright? You haven’t been answering your texts I-“

“Hi,” I clear my throat and the line goes dead silent. I decide to continue. “Hey uh this is Harry. Styles. Uhm, don’t panic or anything because she is okay but she’s in hospital and-“

“What?” He comes back with a boom. “Why is she there what happened? Which hospital?”

I tell him which one, explain she bumped her head and I had to take her here. That the doctors said she would recover and be herself again soon. He simply swears and tells me he’d be there soon.

This was Y/N’s life. This was the right thing to do. Still, I stay in the room with my head in my hands and think about the whole evening again and again.

“Just tell me the bloody room…I don’t care about the time…”

The voice travels through as doors open and close in the hall and I look out. Grayson. Like a pitbull. I can see him through the rectangular window demanding to see Y/N.

I open the swinging doors and his nostrils flare as he spots me.

“Why the hell is he allowed in and not me?” He continues his tirade. “Does hospital policy not matter when it comes to the rich and famous now? I want to see her doctor and-“

The nurse turns to me, annoyed but before she can ask the question the doctor is out.

“What’s all this? Do you know the time sir, please follow me and we can talk-“

“I don’t want to fucking follow you. I want him gone and I want to see my fiancee.”

Looks are exchanged between the doctor and the nurse, finally landing on me. I imagine what they’re thinking—just another homewrecking famous rockstar, do we tell the fiancé or act cool?

“He should be able to see her,” I say in an even tone. I can feel the eyes on me, especially the laser beams from Gray.

“I thought-“

“Okay. Visitor pass him and let him in,” the doctor cuts his nurse off as she stares at me. Maybe her daughter wouldn’t get that photo tonight after all, and instead be told to pick better role models. It doesn’t matter to me. Not tonight.

I watch Gray get sorted, watch him walk down and to Y/N’s room. To his fiancée’s room.

I wonder how he feels, fighting with her last night just for y/n to end up here tonight. I wonder if that’s why he was so vocal tonight—the guilt.

But I suspected he was the kind of man that called himself easy-going and only got this raucous when another man was threatening his public image. It was pretty clear the hospital staff thought we had some pseudo-relationship arrangement. I don’t think Duran was daft enough to miss that.

Plus, I’d been the one to bring her here not him.

With a big sigh I take my phone out to call a taxi. It was my turn to go home.

I text Y/N from the car, tell her to rest over the weekend and let me know how she feels Monday morning. She could take the whole week off if she wanted but I also knew her and knew she would try to come back asap.

I try to piece back the marble armour I wore before tonight, it’s ill-fitting and hurts to get on but I do it anyway. This was why I couldn’t be the person Y/N wanted me to be; I tried to mix parts of my life together and it would only end with shite.

Y/N’s POV:

I don’t know who this man in front of me was. Or actually, I hadn’t seen him a long time.

I’d been discharged from the hospital on Saturday morning with odd looks all around. Maybe because Harry brought me in? And ever since, Grayson has been doting on me. Doting.

“Did you want anything specific?” Gray stands at the foot of the bed, asking me what he should make me for breakfast. The last time he made me a special breakfast was…last summer?

“I wouldn’t say no to pancakes?” I reply. “I looove your chocolate chip pancakes.”

“I’ll get it started,” he walks over to kiss my temple and leaves.

The weirdest part is that I feel weird; I don’t know why but Gray doting on me like this made me feel claustrophobic and…weird!

I look out the window to the overcast sky. Same, I think. At least for a Sunday, it felt fitting.

I pick up my phone and check the last response from Harry. Since I got discharged he��d been texting me to see how I was feeling. I think he was feeling guilty even though I told him it wasn’t his fault.

I tried not to drink when I was upset because back in uni it led to some shitty situations but the other night I’d overstepped my rule and done this anyway. And paid for it. I should have known better. And after the absolute misery of yesterday’s aftermath—the migraine and the vertigo and the completely lack of appetite, I don’t think I’ll be doing that again. Ever.

Today I feel a lot better. I still have a headache and I’m looking forward to breakfast with my painkiller, but the light doesn’t hurt as much and the nausea only comes back when I do too much.

You: I’ll be back in no time. Feeling better

Harry: I want you to feel the best so I’m banning you from working until Wed. And that’s conditional on you feeling better

Y: Doc said I can resume a lowkey version of my life after 48hrs

H: I didn’t like that doc. take my advice instead

Y: when did you get your md

H: same time you got yours

Y: I have an md?

H: being stubborn 101

Y: your jokes are a lot better when you text

H: cuz you’re not distracted by my face

Y: ooookay I’m no longer giving you the platform byeee

He was sassy, apparently. I never got this side of him before.

I read through the convo again and smile. But it hits me that it sounded like flirting. And that would be incredibly inappropriate. So I shove my phone in my bedside drawer and inch out of bed to join Gray.

We spend the day talking about a lot, but not about what we should talk about. Which, with the way I was feeling, was fine by me. At the same time it felt like we were both politely playing a role neither of us could put our hearts into. It felt shitty.

Gray has a session around 4 and I crawl back into bed, putting on a romcom I’ve watched a million times for comfort.

My body feels heavy and it has nothing to do with the concussion. The last couple days and my current relationship with Gray casts a shadow over my thoughts. I felt like making any decision was like wading through quicksand and running away just sounded better.

I rub my temples, hoping like a genie’s lamp, I could get an omnipotent spirit cast out and grant me easy wishes. I’d wish for things to go back to normal, for my heart not to be such a wretched thing. For clarity.

I pick up my phone and scroll to the one person I had run away from and have missed since. I didn’t talk to her very often but I thought I could use her no-nonsense approach.

My mom frets when I tell her what had happened. She goes quiet as I tell her I’d gotten drunk to forget about the troubles in my relationship.

“Relationships go through a lot of phases. It’s like going through those cave tunnels all made of rock and you gotta squeeze really tight sometimes just to fit through and continue on.”

“That is an amazing comparison mom, but I don’t know if this is one of those times. It feels like Gray’s already given up on us.”

“Well it’s been a long time he’s waited.”

“But he never said. He never talked to me.”

She sighs. “Your Grayson sure is a contemplative son of a bitch isn’t he?”

I laugh a little too hard and feel a pulse in my head. “I know. But then today he was so dang sweet—since I got home. He was so overprotective. And he made me breakfast mom and it made me realize I haven’t had that Gray in a long time.”

She’s silent on the other end. She knew there was more. How did I ever think, as a teen, my mom didn’t understand me? I think I just never understood her.

“But it felt weird.” I continue. “I feel horrible for saying it but I felt weird!”

“Was there heart?” She asks gently.

There wasn’t.

That’s what it was. And my heart weeps. All those actions without feelings.

“Have you thought about coming home?” Mom asks when the silence stretches. She always asked and I was the worst daughter in the world for never going back. The last time was when I graduated, for 2 weeks in which my family drove me crazy and I had been crazy in love with Gray and eager to get back to him.

“Maybe,” I close my eyes and slide down into bed.

“Your brother’s new girlfriend reminds me of that friend you had where she came on our camping trip and cried the whole time? What was her name?”

“Deanna? Mom I stayed friends with her all through high school! She was just very anxious.”

“I know! His girlfriend’s always darting about, jumping at tiny things. Reminds me of her.”

“Well Jace better be treating her right.”

“He does,” mom’s voice raises. “You should see them together. It’s cute but they’re still teenaged loves so I try not to break his bubble too much.”

Mom had definitely relaxed a lot since I was a teen. She had practically chased my first boyfriend away.

“Remember your first boyfriend?” She asks and I shout how I was remembering that too. We end up talking about old memories, and I feel a little more known and a little less lonely when I hang up.

Gray and I order takeout and I try to watch a movie with him but the strain on my eyes gets too much. I tell him I was going to bed and insist that he stays and finishes. I didn’t feel like watching him play boyfriend.

I’m eager to get back to work, for next week when I can go to Scotland for the MV. The eagerness comes from guilt but I carry both as I fall asleep.

***

I feel like a kid at Disneyland. Or maybe a Disney adult. Either way, I’m blown away getting to watch this MV come to life.

It’s long hours, a lot of waiting, and some shouting. But everything else is magic.

I came back to work last Thursday and other than an ear-splitting headache on the flight and a low-grade one when I stared at a screen too long, I was on my way to normal. When I got back to work Harry kept making excuses for me so I could work from the office but I refused to be treated differently and eventually he relented.

“It’s so freaking cold!” I jump up and down beside Harry by the cliffside. He’s just wrapped up a scene and the crew was taking a look at the footage to see if they needed anything more in this spot.

“Why don’t you put on more layers? Do you want an extra coat the crew might have-“

“No!” I continue wriggling around. “I’m heading back to the car in a few. This is an amazing view.”

“Isn’t it,” Harry turns to the sea that’s churning away much like my own heart these days. It feels calming to see it physically somewhere else.

We stand in silence except for my occasional teeth chattering and stare out to the view.

“Have you seen more of it?” Harry motions to the cameras. “What do you think?”

On this trip I’ve been giving my honest opinion, and I know I’ve offended Harry at least once but I didn’t come all the way here for my dream experience only to stroke his ego.

I tell him my take. We talk about the overall storyline about belonging and sacrifice until we’re interrupted with two hands holding out hot teas.

“You both looked cold,” the woman says. She was another assistant on set and I’m not sure what to do being waited on as a PA myself.

“Oh, thank you!” I make sure she knows I appreciate it. “That’s…that’s super kind thanks!”

She throws us both a smile and I stare at my cup, the heat tingling on my cold fingertips.

“Friendship and belonging yeah,” Harry starts up again.

“Yeah but also I like how you—your character, whatever, knows when it’s time to leave for his better growth. Sacrifice with his friend and sacrifice with the only home he’s known. Plus that’s a comfortable outfit.”

I tap a button on Harry’s jumpsuit. He grins. “You can have it.”

“I would be drowning in that you’re a lot taller.”

“We can have it altered,” he says. A shiver runs through me at we. I blame it on the cold.

I sip the tea now that it’s not scalding and find it’s a lot cooler. The open air, I guess.

“So you really love all this,” Harry says. “You weren’t joking about that excitement.”

“No I told you!” I flash to the night we did “nothing” which feels long ago. “I have a vivid imagination when it comes to music and I spent any spare courses on film so now I can interpret the heck out of any song and music video like my life depends on it.”

“We should get you back there,” he motions to the crew. “Get you on board.”

“Would I get the little clipboard and clapper?”

“Yeah!”

“Goals,” I sigh.

Little did I know, by Saturday as we’re filming our final scene one of the crew members hands me the clapper. He tells me I’m supposed to cut the final scene. I stare at him, thinking I misheard.

The clapboard hangs between us. He shakes it a little and I take it. It’s heavier than I thought.

“Harry asked if you can cut for the final scene, see the man behind the camera? He’ll look to you and give you the nod. Then you step in front and just do the thing.”

“Oh…” I’m still staring at the thing in my hand. My palms feel sweaty like it’s going to crash to the ground and break in two but that thought gets me to hold it closer. “Thanks.”

“Yep,” the guy walks away and I stare at the scene being filmed. Slowly I walk closer to the cameraman and he glances at me, notices the clapper, and smiles holding up two fingers.

He whispers something to someone beside him and they change the lighting. Harry walks off “screen” and I try to catch his eye to show him what I had. We catch it briefly and he winks before walking back onto the screen.

Oh my god! My heart is racing as I hold it in my hands. I had to chill. Or I’m gonna make a mess of things. It’s just a clapperboard and you’re saying one word!

Two minutes. I manage to calm down enough and when I get the signal I step in front of the camera and, as I see it later on, with the biggest grin on my face I clap down and yell “cut!”

Harry lets out a whoop and the crew cheers as the filming wraps up. I’m sure my eyes are wide as saucers as I go to Harry. He puts an arm around me and pulls me in, laughing because I tell him my heart is racing and how does he do tours when just that made me shaky.

“It gets easier,” we walk now with his arm around my shoulder. “One day you’ll be behind the camera shouting at me to move places.”

“Oooh getting to boss you around and get paid for it?” I look up at him and my breath catches because he’s handsome at every bloody angle. “Sign me up.”

He let me go and gives me a few tsks. Then he gets his phone and tells me to pose with the clapper and I do it happily. The picture shows a grinning girl with pure delight on her face.

“I’ll put that as your contact photo right,” Harry says as he gets into a jacket. “And that way at least when you call me with bad news I get to see a smile beforehand.”

“Har har,” I roll my eyes but I don’t hate the idea.

A lot of the crew decide to go out for drinks and dinner and Harry passes but I decide to go. I’d met some friendly faces and I would miss working with them, miss the overall energy, when we got back to London.

As I fall asleep that night, full and content, I realize I hadn’t texted Gray all day. I wake to check my phone and see he’d sent a text a few hours ago.

Sorry I was out for lunch with the crew. Babe it was sooooo fun I can’t wait to show you pictures when I get home.

I read the rest of his message asking how I was. I tell him my headache was gone and ask him about his week but I’ve fallen asleep before he can respond.

***

The morning I have to leave for tour I wake up way too early. Too much nervous excitement. I’d already brushed and checked my luggage was packed before crawling back into bed waiting for Gray to wake.

I watch him sleep, my eyes following the familiar contours of his face. We’d been making an effort at rebuilding the relationship since we agreed we at least had to give it a try after I got home from Scotland a month ago. On one hand it feels like starting a new relationship and also breathing easier because we were both on the same page. On the other, we’d finally started planning the wedding!

I would miss him, nearly 3 weeks away which is the longest we’ve been apart since we got together. Then I’d be home for 2 weeks, and away for the last week before Harry finishes with a couple shows in London. It was going to be epic and crazy as exhausted as I’ve been.

I huddle close to Gray and he stirs slightly but I kiss his neck to wake him.

“Hey,” he mumbles in his sleep.

“Morning,” I press another kiss to his face.

“What time?” He moves his head to kiss me back.

“Hmmm half past 7?”

He grumbles about it being so early but it stops shortly after with both of my legs on either side of him and my hair curtaining our faces.

“M’gonna miss your snooty face,” I say with another kiss. He finally opens his eyes and his hand comes up to hold my chin.

“I’ll be the one here missing you.”

“I’ll call every chance I get.”

“You’ll get to see so many new cities,” he says.

“Barely but I’m gonna try to make the most of it,” the travel schedule was hectic but I know there were a couple slower days I could use to explore cities. If I wasn’t completely exhausted.

“You’ll have a lot of fun,” he pushes my hair behind my ear.

“Remember Josie’s coming this weekend to stay the week.” Gray’s sister had taken the opportunity of a semi-empty flat to stay here while she studied for mid-terms. I had encouraged it so Gray felt less lonely.

“She’s gonna drive me crazy,” he huffs.

“Just behave,” I warn him.

“I don’t know how,” he smiles, rolling us around so he’s on top and showing me what misbehaving means. I don’t mind it a bit.

After a quick shower together we head out to the airport, Harry offered to pick me up on his way but I wanted to make sure I spent as much time with Gray as possible so he doesn’t feel like I was leaving him like before. I hoped he knew, at least, the effort I was making.

***

Stockholm, Hamburg, Oslo, and Copenhagen in one week. It was exhilarating and exhausting and hectic and so fulfilling.

I had seen Harry at small shows before but on the big stage he has a presence with a capital P. It’s amazing watching him perform and dance and be charming all over. He could be cheeky yet command the crowd at the same time. And despite all these sides he’s never inauthentic.

For the first time I’m able to take somewhat of a backseat. He already had his manager, tour manager, stylist, and tour chef with him to manage most aspects I would regularly. I became sort of an extra hand when I wasn’t having sit-down hours. That’s what I called the times I was sitting on the laptop sorting out future timelines for Harry’s life (and my wedding).

But I loved it. I’d pick a cafe close to our hotel and spend a few hours working. I’d call Gray during these times and if he was free we’d catch up on all I saw and he’d share stories with me until Josie crashed the conversation with stories of her own.

My eye bags require more concealer than usual and my body begs for nutrition but otherwise I love every second.

I’m back from my sit-down hours and get off the lift. Harry and his team were placed in the same hotel just down the hall from each other. As I approach my own door one of Harry’s band mates rushes out of his door looking stressed.

“He’s in a mood,” she huffs. “Don’t go in there.”

“Did something happen?” I ask.

She shrugs, “he gets this way. Usually at the start of tour I don’t know why. Kinda snappy just…give him space.”

I do as she says but the next morning as we wait to board our early flight to Paris he continues to be a dick to everyone.

“Maybe take a nap on the flight Haz,” one of his bandmates suggest. “We’re all bloody tired don’t be such a grump.”

“I don’t need a bloody nap stop treating me like a child.”

“What to do when you act like one.”

“You know what-“

“Woah hey c’mon.”

I startle at the commotion, I was starting to doze off but Harry rushing out of his seat and someone else stepping between him and Mitch wakes me entirely.

“Let’s stand there get some space.” Niji recommends.

Everyone follows the group away and it’s Harry, myself, and my bag left.

He glances at me, “Don’t you start too.”

“I wasn’t…”

“I could see it in your face.”

“What the hell? I was just napping I don’t even know what’s going on except that you really are being a dick.”

“There you go!” He points. “I knew you wanted to say it.”

“Guess I’m joining the others…” I pick up my bag and walk to everyone else. They’re all venting their frustrations for Harry and comfort me that he was an asshole to everyone.

It gets worse on the flight when our pilot announces we couldn’t land in Paris.

“What’s going on?” I ask our hostess.

“The weather, we apologize for the inconvenience folks but there is high winds and a lot of fog so it’s not safe to fly.”

“I have a show tonight,” Harry stands and starts to advance on the poor woman. “I need to be in Paris before 4 where are we landing?!”

“Sir we’ll be landing in the Lille airport. This is good because we’re only a few hours from the city-“

“For fuck’s sake,” Harry runs his hand through his hair.

“I understand,” the woman looks back at me and I nod, letting her know I got it.

“Harry we’ll only be delayed by a few hours-“

“I don’t have time for a few hours. We need to set up and run tests in Paris! We were supposed to be there yesterday but somebody booked the wrong shit!”

It was true, his tour manager had booked us for Monday morning rather than Sunday morning but at the time it hadn’t been a big deal since the show was 7 on Monday and we got an extra day to relax. Now it made things more stressful.

“Fuck this,” Harry mutters. The other members on the plane roll their eyes and put on headphones, sighing and looking out the window. It was obvious to everyone but Harry that this was just a minor setback.

I decide to be the idiot who enters the lion’s cage. Harry sits in the back of the plane jiggling his leg and trying to connect his phone to service.

“Are you trying to call Morgan?” I ask.

“No I’m trying to call the pope.”

“He might be sleeping.”

He looks up at me and if I wasn’t aware of how stressed he was I would laugh. Confused doesn’t even cover his expression.

“I don’t have time for this right now, I need to get to the show-“

“We have like a five hour wiggle room it’s just a minor-“

“I can’t perform thrown off like this!”

“There’s no reason to be thrown off!” I try to keep my volume contained but I can feel eyes on my back.

“I don’t need you right now just go.”

“So I guess the one week rule is true.” I mutter.

“What’s that?” He asks with an i-dare-you expression.

“I said the one week rule of you being an asshole on tour, I guess that was true. I wish someone told me I would have skipped it.”

“Well you could have skipped the whole thing and nobody would notice.”

His comeback is muttered but cuts like a machete and I feel like the words were physically slung at me. I stand there stunned, my heart sinking as he continues to fiddle with his phone until the call connects.

The shock wears off quickly leaving me with the familiar heat of anger. This was how I reacted to Harry and his dickish ways. How dare he? Why the fuck does he think it’s okay to treat me like this when he wanted? I clench my fist as his voice rises with Morgan.

But beneath the anger is a raw hurt, his words struck a nerve. The same one Gray had struck once. I was replaceable, and all the efforts I’ve put into my career were unimportant and unappreciated.

I snatch the phone from Harry, annoyed at hearing him talk at Morgan.

“Hey Morgan it’s Y/N, yeah it’s a minor inconvenience but if you can get a bus or something to the airport it should be…”

I look to the hostess and she flashes me two fingers and a shake of her hand.

“About 2 hours to get into the city.” I finish. I nod along to Morgan’s questions and repeat details back. “Yeah just text me on my phone, not Harry’s. We’ll sort this out.”

“Thank you y/n. I’m really glad you’re there today.”

The words are a feather on a pile of nails, it’s nice to hear but Harry’s cruel words still ring in my ear.

I hand the phone back to him, expecting a thank you or an apology, but he just takes it and slinks down in his seat.

“It’s her isn’t it?” Sarah gets up on her seat on her knees to look back at Harry. I pause as I walk up the aisle. Is was who?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry mutters with his eyes glued to his screen.

“It is,” someone else says.

“Who?” Claire asks.

“Don’t take his mood personally,” Sarah says to me. “Paris is a touchy city for him.”

“Do you guys ever shut up?” Harry asks.

“No that’s why we’re your crew,” Mitch responds.

“We understand,” Sarah continues. Who was she talking about!? “Just don’t take it out on us. It’s not nice.”

Harry doesn’t respond but I sense a deflating happening on his side. Sarah’s words had gotten through to him but they’d just made me super curious.

I get filled in as we wait at the airport for our bus—Morgan had saved the day.

I hear about Harry’s french lover and how he got his heart broken a couple years ago. How the last time they were in France he had disappeared for a day and they’re all sure he visited her. How he can’t go to Paris without getting in a mood, either because he doesn’t get to see her or he’s anxious about seeing her.

“That’s like a city-specific booty-call.”

“Kinda,” Sarah laughs. “But I think he grew really attached to her so it’s a bit—he’s coming back.”

Harry stomps back to where we are, a tray of coffee in his hands. His team accepts it without a word. The world’s most famous non-verbal apology.

I watch him wearily. I still wanted a verbal apology from him, was that crazy? What he said was deeply hurtful. And hearing about his French lover makes me feel a way that I don’t like so I shut it out. I stick to the anger instead. It was easier.

He starts to warm up as we board the bus, cracking jokes with his band. I pick a seat near the front and stay there with my headphones. Aside from answering Morgan’s texts I pretend to be asleep. Eventually I do.

Someone flicks my hat, “C’mon sleepyhead! We’re in the city of love.”

“Wha?” There’s a crick in my neck and I feel rusty. But Harry’s right, we’d landed in Paris. He hovers above my seat with a jovial smile but it dies the longer I don’t return it. Serves him right. He doesn’t get to be cruel and wipe it away with coffee and a joke.

He gets the hint and boards off. I grab the last of the bags and join the group in the lobby where Morgan greets Harry like his long lost son.

“The trials aren’t over just yet,” he cringes. “I don’t know why Paris keeps fucking with me but we’re booked tight for rooms.”

“What does that mean?” Harry asks.

“Uhm well,” Morgan clears his throat. “The hotel overbooked. We have 3 rooms between the 8 of us. Luckily I have a mate who lives in town so I’ll crash at his. The rest of you need to share.”

“Morgan you’re fucking with me,” someone groans.

“No I’m sorry. I booked 5 with an en-suite but they screwed up. They’re refunding us half—I fought for that at least. I can use that to put others in another hotel if you’d like but so far I’ve only managed one room with two doubles.”

“Claire and I can share,” Sarah says.

“Good, Mitch you good with the boys?”

“I’ve slept in worse places.”

“Uh y/n…would you like me to book you an extra room somewhere? I don’t want you to be far from the team-“

“She’ll stay with me.” Harry says. “I’m performing tonight and then we’re moving to Amsterdam tomorrow afternoon so…”

I squirm a little as all eyes fall to me. Cool. Casual. “Sure.”

“Sorted! Let’s get these bags up and out of the way. I’ll have a car waiting down here in a half hour so you can all freshen up and meet me again.”

We trudge along and get off on our respective floors.

“The truth is,” Harry says as we scan ourselves into our room. “I’m probably not even gonna use the bed for the night so it’s all yours.”

“Oh,” I look around the room. It’s got a french touch and a lush queen in the middle. I could deal with not having to share it. I’m sure my fiancé back home would be happier too. Even though I want to ask why I don’t. “Okay.”

We settle our things in silence and a part of me wants to break it and start talking about the ride and Paris but I’m still not over his earlier behaviour so I continue giving the bare minimum. He doesn’t seem to care.

We head off for tests and I end up falling asleep in one of the booths. The tiredness was really creeping up. I could sleep through all the noise the band was making.

A particularly loud screeching from feedback wakes me up. I look down to the group, everyone’s mostly broken up while tech crew tapes down some wires and connects equipment. Harry sits on the edge of the stage, swinging his feet and texting away at his phone. He’s different from the grump this morning. He’s lighter.

Charlie catches me looking and waves, I wave back. There’s a pit in my stomach that grows heavier as the day passes into night.

Paris is not the loudest but super engaged. Everyone has some reference to Harry adorned on their clothing or their face and I can tell Harry has a special connection to the group.

“And finally,” Harry says into the mic. “This is a special song for my French friends. Tonight has been a blessing and I want to merci beaucoup for showing up!”

The crowd cheers as the intro to his song comes on. I listen to the lyrics for the first time since hearing the song last year and connect the dots to what Sarah said earlier. Maybe this was the girl. Maybe this was why he wasn’t sleeping at the hotel tonight.

As we’re leaving the venue and I’m going through a mental list of everything we could have forgotten, we spot a familiar face around back.

“Riley?” Mitch spots him first. “Is that you mate?”

“Hey,” Riley like, Harry’s old assistant Riley is standing with a couple other people who are having a smoke. He squashes his and greets the band who apparently still feel fondly when it comes to him. He looks the exact same but my feelings towards him are curdled after knowing what he’s like and how he left us high and dry.

That leaves Harry and I still hovering by the entrance alone, staring at the reunion by the time Riley comes up to us. I guess the band knew his friends because they get to chatting. I remember then, Riley ditched Harry to work for one of his friends. Must be a small world.

“Why the long face you two, c’mon still not holding a grudge are we?”

“Riley,” Harry addresses him. I stay silent, watching Riley from where I stand behind Harry.

“Nice to see Y/N’s still sticking around. How are you liking tour life?”

“Did you come to the show?” I find my voice.

“Yeah,” he nods all friendly like this was casual and he’s done nothing wrong ever. “I might be biased because I worked for the guy but Harry Styles is one of my top artist. And I’m in Paris until the Fall so why not come support him.”

“Well,” Harry says in the same deadpan voice. “Thanks for the support Riley.”

Riley glances over at him, smug. He knows he’s annoying Harry. So maybe I wasn’t the only one who got enjoyment out of doing that.

“Oh c’mon you’re still upset with me jumping ship? It’s been months! Y/N we’re cool right-“

Riley moves to walk past Harry and to me but Harry side-steps to stay in his way. I look at Harry. So does Riley, confusion sliding away to amusement.

“Oh I see,” he steps back, arms crossed. “Harry you sly dog you did it again.”

“We’re going now,” Harry says. “Try not to show up at any other shows.”

Harry tried to leave and I take the few steps to follow but Riley starts again.

“So y/n you fell for his trick too? I’m disappointed I thought you were immune.” Riley continues. “How’d he get you to the bedroom? Lots of booze? Or did you not even make it to the bedroom? Was it being treated like shit that did it for you?”

“What?” Now in the middle, I look between the two, wondering how this conversation took such a bizarre turn.

“You have some obsession with me Riley?” Harry steps back towards us. “Because you sure enjoy making up stories in your head with me starring in it. Don’t rope y/n into them either.”

“Not all stories,” Riley stays smug. “Some of them I’ve seen with my own eyes.”

They had to be talking about the last PA. The story Riley told me. Which means he thinks I…

“You really should watch what you talk about,” Harry reminds him.

Riley turns his attention to me, “Y/N I thought I warned you good enough. But I guess you put out as easily as the last one.”

“Riley whatever drama you’re trying to-“

“Mate,” Harry gets in Riley’s face so he can’t even look at me. I go quiet. “Get the fuck out of my sight before I get security to kick you out permanently.”

“Being the knight in shining armour doesn’t really suit you Haz,” Riley says. With one final judgemental look thrown my way he walks away. I have to lay a hand on Harry’s arm just to keep him from lunging at him but as soon as my hand makes contact he brushes me away.

This whole interaction was ego-bruising. “Why did he think-“

“Ignore him.” Harry cuts me off, his back still to me. His band, having watched the final scene unfold, now awkwardly shuffles back to us. “You okay?”

“Yeah but why-“

“Good.”

He cuts me off from asking anything and I don’t get to push because the group tries to defuse the situation by changing the subject. That includes the girls inviting me for drinks at their favourite parisian place. Harry disappears and so do those answers.

I try to poke whether the girls at dinner knew anything about his last PA but they barely met her. So I’m forced to eat oysters when they find out I’d never had them and the subject changes quickly to new and other things.

“So oysters thumbs up or down?” I’m asked as I slowly eat another.

“Weird texture…ehh?” I hover my thumb in the middle.

“Well too bad your partner—what’s his name again?” They ask. I tell her. “Ooh good name. Too bad Grayson isn’t here to cash in on all these oysters.”

They laugh and I think I’m not drunk enough to laugh as much with.

It’s the wee hours of the morning by the time we get back to the hotel. I crash alone as soon as my head hits the pillow.

***

After three weeks of tour I’m ecstatic to get back home. I wanted to sleep in the same bed for more than a day, I wanted a shower with even temperature, and I wanted a home-cooked meal.

And I wanted Gray.

I even catch an earlier flight—the night before rather than the next morning. I build up surprising Gray so much that I end up being the one who’s surprised when I come home to an empty flat.

I double check I’d set my phone back to the right time but it’s nearly 11. He must be out with friends, not a client.

I want to call him but still hold the idea of a surprise so I take a shower instead, put a load of laundry in, and make myself a sandwich. I crawl into bed at 1, still no Gray.

I end up tapping through our friends’ stories and find him in one. At least I knew where he was. But 2/3 photos I can find of him, Bex is standing too close for comfort.

I can tell by the photos there’s nothing going on. From his end. The most contact they have is his arm around her shoulder but for some reason all of this makes me mad. I’d broken it down to him that he couldn’t talk with people who had a thing for him because they would only give biased advice. But he didn’t listen. He said I was reading into it too much. And here she was, gazing up at him in every damn photo.

I hate that I wasn’t even home for a couple hours and already found something to annoy me.

I must have fallen asleep shortly after because I wake to poking on my side.

“Y/n? Is that really you? Y/n? Y/n?”

Gray.

“Hi,” I turn in bed. “I’m home early.”

“Shit!” He stands and sways back slightly. Wow, he was pissed. I hadn’t seen him this inebriated in a hot minute. “You didn’t say!”

“I know I-“

“I thought I imagined you.”

“Nope all here,” I grit my teeth. Why was I annoyed at my boyfriend for having a life, I scold myself.

Why is he so drunk and is this a new thing or did he only get this way cuz I’m not around?

“You finally came back to me,” he slurs. He smells like a brewery as he climbs into bed and I wish I could force a shower on him but I get swept up in his arms. “Hey you were right by the way.”

“About?”

“About.”

“Gray! What was I right about?”

“I’m getting to it! You. Were right. About Bex.”

“H-how do you know?” Weird coincidence. Or not?

“Sheshe she tried to kiss me!” He falls back laughing in bed. “I said nooo cuz I have a fiancée. Y/N. Oops. She was maaad.”

My heart drops. I knew it. That little bitch! And she had to go and try to kiss my man when he’s drunk! I officially didn’t like her. And the story itself adds to my irritation.

“Wow. Crazy. I’m tired as hell so I’m going to bed.”

I turn and leave my back to Gray. I didn’t want to see him this drunk, this chill about someone I warned him about trying to kiss him.

He splays on the bed where he is, draping an arm over me and pretty soon I hear his even breathing. That annoys me too, that he could fall asleep so quick. His arm is a weight over my body and I feel like I’m sinking into the bed and out of view.

***

It’s like Grayson and I have forgotten how to live with each other.

What starts out as minor annoyances turn into bickering pretty quickly. Our 1 bedroom flat begins to feel cramped and I desperately try to cling onto the idea of us because I can’t fathom us fizzling out like this but my fingernails are raw from scraping threads.

Work is the easiest it’s been in a while. With no set working hours I just spend a few hours everyday doing admin and running errands. Otherwise, unless somebody calls me I’m free.

I thought it would be great. So much free time with Gray, we could continue planning the wedding and catch up again. But he busies himself with work, and when we go on dates he doesn’t make much of an effort to talk. It’s like getting to know him all over again except he’s a broodier version of himself. It makes me mad and I end up picking fights.

I book brunch with some of the girls on the last Saturday I’m home, thinking it might help to have space from Gray and see other people. I thought everything would be fine. And it is, on a surface level—they treat me perfectly normal.

Except the only time they gave me space to talk about myself went something like this,

“So Y/N how are you? Busy touring how is that?”

“Oh yeah it was great! Really taxing but fulfilling too. I went to so many cities I haven’t visited even though I’ve been in London for like 7 years? Copenhagen was one of my fave-

“Ooh. Yeah I really want to visit Copenhagen this summer.”

“Oh I love Copenhagen…”

And I was officially asked out of sharing my own life. The rest of brunch was me reacting to everyone else’s stories and having the subject change quickly after I brought up anything about myself. When I mentioned Gray casually, I could feel the judgement. It’s like they were waiting on me to complain about him so they could pounce. It’s a weird and tiring energy.

As we all say our goodbyes I manage to catch Rebecca alone.

“Hey Bex,” I stop her on the edge of the group. “I know we haven’t talked much lately but I just want to say I don’t appreciate the moves you’re making on Gray.”

She raises a brow, “moves?”

“He told me you tried to kiss him. Those kinds of moves.”

Her face pinches. “Well someone has to make some.”

“Excuse me?” She tries to walk away but I rush to step in front of her.

“It’s no secret you and Gray are on the road to a breakup,” she has the audacity to look judgey in that moment and I want to slap the look off her face.

“What the fuck do you know about me and Gray? Back. Off.”

“Hey what’s going on?” One of our other friends drifts towards us and I notice they’re all looking our way.

“Just a friendly chat,” I say with sarcasm you can’t miss. At the same time Bex responds, “Y/n’s being delusional.”

I was going to get physical, I step back towards her but our friends get between us. I think they knew uni me, and knew I wasn’t afraid of confrontation.

“What the fuck y/n?” I was so tired of the look on their faces, like I was crazy.

“She tried to kiss Gray!” I reveal. “Last week! I’m just telling her to back off and I have every right to!”

It’s news to them. They turn to Bex who’s fidgeting with her sweater as a flush creeps up her neck.

“I-I he did! He tried to kiss me!”

I snort, “I don’t have time for your bullshit Rebecca. I’ve gotta go.”

“Oh yeah we all know you don’t have time y/n, you’re so busy these days.”

“Bex!” Someone scolds her.

“Somebody better teach her hand to keep her hand over her mouth because I will get through all of you if it means getting to her. You know you guys don’t know shit about my life. And you don’t even care to these days! Just because Gray told his sob side you guys treat me like-like shit!”

“That’s not true-“

“It is! You don’t even know my side! And I don’t care to explain because you lot are supposed to be our friends, not the judge and jury of my relationship.”

They stare blankly at me and nobody denies it so I continue: “I try so hard to stay involved in your lives knowing I can’t make it to half of our parties, I’m always messaging you guys and trying to stay on top of your socials to know what’s going on in your lives. I feel like I make all the effort and I’m just made the pariah.”

It feels good getting it off my chest. It feels amazing. I feel like I’m breathing an actual lungful of air now.

“We’re sorry if we made you feel that way.” I look at who’s said this. One of my oldest friends from uni. I scoff.

“You’re sorry if you made me feel that way?! I just said you did!”

“Sorry,” she says, quieter.

“Y’know it’s…it’s disappointing. I thought, when we became best friends first year of uni nothing could shake the bond we had. Apparently a man you met 3 years ago who vented to you about your best friend was just the thing.” All their faces are small and nobody makes eye contact with me. “Anyway, I do have to go. I have an appointment. Let’s not do this again.”

I walk away, proud of myself for saying what I had to and getting it off my chest. For sticking up for myself.

But the farther away I get, the more the adrenaline crashes through me and I end up walking onto the tube on shaky legs and collapsing in my seat. The reality of what’s happened falls into my lap and I see a bunch of burned bridges.

I spend a couple extra hours out after my appointment. I’m not going anywhere in particular, I let my feet carry me through the city as my mind continues to whir.

Harry texts me, asking me to stop by his place before I fly back for tour tomorrow evening. Apparently the concierge needed all his mail picked up and he needed a few of the items. It annoys me that he waited last minute to ask.

When I get home at 4, Gray’s vacuuming the flat. He stops it when I come in.

“Hey.”

“How was brunch?”

It’s the way he asks. I know he knows. Which means a group chat exists with our friends and him without me. It feels like another betrayal. Who keeps their partner out deliberately? Who opens up their relationship like a hockey net, open for anyone to take shots at?

“Why’re you asking?” I feel another fight coming.

“I can’t ask you how brunch went?”

“Did you hear something? Let me guess, did Bex snitch?”

“No, chill out why would Bex snitch?”

“Grayson,” I look at him deadpan. “Don’t bullshit me. If you have any respect for me, which I know now is not a lot, don’t bullshit me.”

He sighs but doesn’t say anything more. Doesn’t lie and doesn’t tell the truth.

“So?” I ask. “Is there like a group chat or something?”

“Let’s just drop it-“

“No! I’m not dropping this when you brought it up. So is there? Did you disrespect me in front of all our friends by talking shit, and then do it even more by allowing them to ice me out in a group chat you knew I wasn’t part of?”

He doesn’t respond. My temper flares.

“The hurtful part isn’t even not being part of the chat, it’s that you didn’t tell me.”

It makes sense now. I was always initiating birthday messages there or privately, thinking everyone was forgetting to wish each other. Now I know I was public fool number one keeping that convo alive when they were probably all wishing each other elsewhere. God. I was an idiot!

“Look I’m sorry y/n, after you stopped showing up to things they just made a new one so they don’t bother you.”

“Oh is that why? Because that was active up until a few months ago. So according to the timeline it was probably when you fucked up and talked shit about me to all our friends and they decided I was a bitch and they should all cancel me! Well I hope you’re happy Gray!”

“I’m not! I’m sorry I didn’t realize-“

“Stop!” I slam my hand into the wall and it hurts harder than I anticipated but I bite back the pain. “Just admit it! You want to paint me as the bad guy so fucking hard, and I am in some ways I know I’m far from perfect Gray! But instead of talking to me like normal fucking people do, you just iced me out and then isolated me from the only friends I’ve ever made in this stupid fucking city!”

I can’t help the tears now even though I don’t want to cry. I want to rage and scream and throw things about but the hurt is bigger and it bubbles over the pot and sears my heart.

I leave my shopping bags where I’ve dropped them and walk back out of the door before he can come up with a response. I couldn’t stand to look at his face. He’s betrayed me over and over and the whole time I was desperately trying to show him I hadn’t changed and I loved him.

I walk the 40 minute to Harry’s and the early evening air helps me learn how to breathe again. I take in gulps of it and try not to cry. I didn’t want to waste tears on Gray and my stupid friends. I didn’t want to do any of this! I just wanted to press pause on my whole damn life and take a nap.

Outside his building I pull out my phone and make sure I don’t look crazed. My hand is killing me and I ignore the bruising blooming fresh.

The concierge spots me just as I enter, and we make small talk about Harry on tour and his last few shows that would happen in London. I make a note to mention to Harry to send him tickets—apparently his niece listened to him.

He helps me load a cart with Harry’s mail and take it upstairs.

It had been over a month since I’d been in here and it’s weird that it feels comforting. Or maybe that was just after two weeks of feeling like a stranger at home.

Harry’s words on the plane echo back to me. Not that I was appreciated here either.

If there was ever a time to go back home to the States, it would be now. But that felt like running away. I had to sort my life out here before I made any rash decisions.

With a sigh I dump the paper onto the coffee table. After sorting what looked like bills from letters from miscellaneous I spot the two envelopes Harry wanted and put it to the side. I open the boxes next and locate his custom orthopaedic inserts he asked me to grab too.

I take the extra mail to my office to sort out. In the familiar closed quarters where I’d spent too much time in the last year rolling through a hundred phases, my feelings edge out of me. I try to wipe the tears and continue on but I end up pathetically sat over on the chair crying until I can barely breathe.

It’s pathetic because this is the first space I’ve felt I had the space to cry. And it was where I worked. Where, apparently, I wouldn’t even be missed.

New tears. Less breaths.

“Get it the fuck together,” I say between gasps. “That’s. Enough.”

Through my own self-talk I manage to calm down enough to finish the work. It’s half past 8 by the time I get back to the main living area. I get water to rehydrate myself and stay sitting on the couch staring into space for another ten minutes. I don’t think I had any more tears to cry. Just a rock in place of my heart and another bigger one attached to my ankle.

“Okay,” I finally get the courage to head home.

The end isn’t big and explosive. It’s a simple statement: I think we both know what needs to be done now.

I don’t fight him this time. I have no fight left in me. I just nod.

“I’ll sleep on the couch and still drop you off tomorrow,” he reassures me.

“Just sleep in bed,” I couldn’t even muster enough energy for expression. My flat tone is how I felt. “You don’t fit on the couch. And I’ll get myself to the airport.”

“No I’ll take you. I’ve already made the arrangements-“

“You don’t have to worry about me anymore Gray,” I say. He looks crestfallen and it irks me that he does. I didn’t want him to be sad, it was ridiculous but it was.

“Well I’ll take you anyway.” He says then turns back to the TV.

I wash the day off and make sure everything is packed for my early flight tomorrow. As I lay in bed alone I realize this might be the last time I ever sleep here. Like this. I would have to move all my shit out. Oh god, the wedding. I’d have to cancel my dress shopping dates and the cake testing, the invites we were still designing.

We’d only told our friends it was going to be a winter wedding, I’m glad we never gave them a date. Nobody had marked their calendars. Nothing about us would been permanent.

I look down at the simple ring on my hand. Everything but that.

I keep it on.

I’m still awake when Gray comes to bed but I pretend to sleep. My mind can’t stop making lists to answer: what now.

I’m in a fugue state all night and the only thing that clears the fog is the rays of sunshine peeking through the blinds in the morning. I hadn’t slept a wink.

Quiet, so I don’t wake Gray, I get up and dressed. I order a taxi and try not to linger on the hurt of doing this alone. Of Gray waking up to an empty bed.

The flight to Madrid is a couple hours and I miraculously nap through it. Everyone is happy to see me when I get back, especially when I present them with snacks they’d all said they missed from home while we were on tour. With them in hand, I’m an angel in their eyes.

I hand Harry his mail and he stops me. His eyes don’t stop examining my face.

“What happened to your hand?” He asks.

I’d picked up a bandaging kit and ice pack at the airport and with the help of Youtube, wrapped it up. It had started to bruise even worse but I couldn’t be arsed to deal with it even though it hurt. Nothing a few painkillers couldn’t fix.

“I accidentally got it caught in a door,” I lie easily. I had practiced. “It’s nothing.”

“Did you get it checked?”

“No.”

“Make sure you do, tonight’s show.”

“Sure. It’s really nothing though.”

“You sure?” He asks. His gaze is unnerving.

“Mhm,” I nod.

He’s silent, eyes scanning my face. Right as I decide I couldn’t take the scrutiny he asks, “Why were you crying last night?”

I stare, unsure what kind of trick he was playing.

“Sorry.” He laughs to himself. “I have one of those uh, motion sensor cameras in the entryway. I turn it on while I’m away so it sends like, automatic clips if there’s movement. I saw you come in and leave.”

“Oh.” Shit. Think fast. Think fast. “I uhm, got into it with some friends I had a meal with. Y’know…they were being a bit icy cuz of what they’ve heard. I’m over it though.”

“Yeah?” His eyes flicker down to my hand.

“Yeah.” I hold his green eyes for a moment, to reassure him I’m okay. I don’t know why he cares, maybe because I looked like a right mess last night as I left. How embarrassing. But I do my best acting job ever.

Satisfied, he lets me go. I return to the group asking for updates and any stories they wanted to share. Before long I’m laughing along and creeping out of my depressed mood. But something heavier still lingers.

***

TAGLIST: @boomitsallie1 @indierockgirrl @ndunad @jerseygirlinca @sunshinemoonsposts @ninasw0rld @love-letters-to-uranus @mayamonroem @sassamanda77

#writingsfromhome #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #fic #harry styles angst #harry styles series #dos and donts #harry styles au #like I’m actually annoyed I had to split this up #because it’s supposed to get more interesting #ugh tumblr and its word limit…#musician!harry #well excited to finish the final part tho

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islandpcosjourney · 1 year ago

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IVF/ICSI Day 11

2nd October 2023

🥚 Egg collection 🥚

Tonight will be a short one, I'm hoping, as I feel quite spaced out and pretty rubbish if I'm honest.

I have felt so much Grace surrounding today's events and I am told that I was constantly thanking and being grateful to the staff at the unit for it - more of that for a giggle later!

After a disturbed sleep overnight (just clock-watching from around 2am) and some unwelcome, subconscious anxiety surrounding the day's unknowns, I was very grumpy when Mum came into my room at 5.20am asking if I was awake and getting up, when my alarm wasn't meant to be going off until 5.45am 😂 She hadn't realised, or I should say she'd temporarily forgotten, that I wasn't to wear make-up, jewellery or perfume (strong scents can cause harm to the eggs when they're exposed during collection - who knew!) so therefore I wasn't needing my usual "time to get ready". I had packed my essentials already (dressing gown, crocs, needles/sharps box to return, choc brioche treat for after etc) so all I needed to do was get up, get dressed, have a final cup of tea & go - not the usual Màiri routine in the morning I can tell you 🤪 But when I got up, I was apologetic of my outburst and she seemed in very good form considering she'd also been awake most of the night (unfortunately a side-effect from her fibromyalgia so she's permanently exhausted 🥴).

We were very grateful to Calum for also getting up early to drive us up to Dundee because I needed to be there for 8.15am so we had to leave by 6.30am to be safe. We arrived in plenty time and found a new car-park (number 7) where the drop-off area is.

We were in the unit by 8am and clearly before most of the reception staff were around because nobody was able to check us in 😉 Those who know me, I'm never early 😏 but once nursing staff came to call our names out we figured out we were being taken through in order of the surgery schedule, so I was 3rd on the list.

Basics were done such as checking my name, DOB, history, BP, temp, weight (only 0.5kg gained since baseline scan, which is not bad considering how full & bloated I have felt on the hormones - yay!). I didn't have to change into the very fetching gown until nearer the time so I could just sit on the bed/chair and relax in my jumpsuit until I was told to change - very considerate. The nurse seemed very shocked when she asked what and when had I last eaten, that my response was "just a tiny bit of bread at communion last night" as I had attended the evening service at St C's, which was also communion - "aren't you starving?"...... "no, not at all, it was sufficient" 🥰 I'd had my last cup of spearmint tea on the journey up by 6.50am and I was then only allowed sips of water after 7am so she'd get me some water along-with paracetamol and an anti-sickness tablet. I then had to wait on the consultant, embryologist and anaesthetist to see me to sign for consent, discuss procedures and drugs etc. At every point, everyone was so smiley and caring and inclusive of Mum too, making her feel part of the process. I sometimes felt a bit rude being on my phone messaging Kevin but that feeling was always short-lived as he needed to feel part of the process too and being in constant communication was so important for that - plus if I hadn't messaged at the point when I was told things, I wouldn't have remembered later 🤦🏻‍♀️

Having the cannula fitted in my right hand was the usual EXCRUTIATING pain. I know, I sound like a drama queen here but honestly, of all the procedures I've had done over the years, including a 20cm x 8cm lipoma being surgically removed, cannulas are my BIG problem. It's not just when its fitted but it stings and burns constantly afterwards too. Mum was a bit put-off by seeing my feet & legs wiggling, thinking I was cold, but it was just how I dealt with the pain, honestly its the worst part of any hospital admission for me. But as Mum said, if that's the worst part then I never have to worry!

There were more documents to read, processes to learn about, forms to sign & drugs to hear about that it was all a bit over my head sometimes, and Mum's, but I felt so comfortable, supported and cared-for that I had nothing but pure joy running through my veins. Mum and I talked about passages of the Bible (the curtains were shut but conversations were not shut-out, so who knows who was able to hear) & what Dad might've made of all of this (supportive we're sure & no doubt patiently waiting in the car while having a wee norrag (sleep) - definitely 😂). I loved how fascinated Mum was by all of the processes, a very different nursing day from her's since her training over 50yrs ago and she was on the ball - “they haven't brought your paracetamol yet, or your water, or your anti-sickness tablet” 🤪 Once she heard of all the drugs they'd be giving me (an endless list I could not begin to regurgitate, not language I was used to and even Mum who could understand the basics of why each drug was being administered at which point, didn't recognise the names of them as they've changed so much) she was concerned that I was going to be too "out-of-it" to manage public transport on the way home but I assured her that we'd be fine - I knew God wouldn't throw anything my way that I couldn't manage!

Time to go! 1115 came faster than I anticipated, no boredom happened at any point, I mean who could be bored with Mum by their side chatting constantly 😁 and then to be honest I don't remember much after this! I'd been asked earlier to think about what music I'd like to hear in surgery (I hadn't known this was even going to be a thing) and my first reaction was to say ANYTHING. I told them I was a musician and would be happy with any genre (well, that's not entirely true, I cannot stand Kevin's heavy metal music 😵) but not for one second did I think that's what they'd choose to play 😂 - they didn't btw! No, by the time I got into the room I knew what I wanted - Stuart Townend. I wanted God with me in the room, publicly and openly. They didn't bat an eyelid but O don't think the anaesthetist had heard of him as she repeated "Stuart Townsend?" a common error people make about his surname but hopefully one she'll now remember 😏 I told them all that if my favourite Psalm 23 or In Christ alone were to come on, to turn up the volume and they laughed 🤩

"Keep you here" started playing and honestly what happened after that is all a blur.

🎶 For time is given, And time is taken away; The least that we can do Is make the most of every day. And we are given And we are taken away; The best that we can do Is give ourselves away 🎶

(I'm getting a bit weepy writing these lyrics down if I'm honest, for I believe every word and they were so comforting to hear as they put the breathing mask on me and began doing everything around me - that's now another favourite track of mine 🤩)

I wasn't being put to sleep, no, it was conscious sedation so I should've been aware of my surroundings to a certain extent. I do remember chatting away under my mask but I couldn't for the life of me tell you what about 😂 However, afterwards when I was awake again back in the ward, the nurses were having a giggle with us about just how chatty I was and how I kept thanking them all for their skills, their care, the gratefulness I had for all of their help - nice to know I have good manners even in my "sleep" 😇 Somethings coming back to me now, I definitely remember being asked how I felt at some point and responding with "I feel grand, the Lord is with me" - can't say when or who I was speaking to but I definitely remember saying it 🙏🏻

Back on the ward, I was aware of Mum telling me to rest but I was insistent on messaging Kev, reaching for my phone - "I'm ok out darling, I love you" - yeah, I was clearly still groggy and wasn't aware just how much 😂 for I love my grammar and write proper sentences, most of the time! The ACU counsellor came to see me, that was nice of her, I should've been seeing her at 1130 today, an appointment made weeks ago before we obviously knew I'd be in for egg collection and it was nice to meet her in person having only ever seen her online before. I'll see her tomorrow instead, online, once I've properly recovered. Mum had asked me in the waiting room if I'd gotten much out of seeing the counsellor and tbh I hadn't really, it was mostly helpful in the earlier months when we had MAJOR issues with lack of communication, mix ups with info being communicated and working out processes to put our minds at rest. In terms of "during" this actual cycle, I haven't seen her at all and I haven't needed it either for God is guiding me through this, nothing she could say will help that or even enforce that so it hasn't been required. People have talked about "IVF fairies" and the importance in speaking with others going through the same process and aside from having the Fertility Network WhatsApp group popping up in the background and some messages of support from ladies in that group, I haven't really needed to have anyone else to talk to to help me through this. I have Jesus - that’s all anyone should need. I write this blog which is very cathartic, my husband is my best friend & confidante, we’re in this together and our very supportive friends & family are backing us but it’s not what “gets me through”. It's only when your life is all about "WHY?" that one needs to lean on another for their "wisdom" in having gone through a similar process. Once you know the WHY in life - Jesus - you stop needing to look for the answers and instead they are given to you, gracefully.

(Gosh, I thought I'd said I hoped this would be a short one tonight 🤦🏻‍♀️)

Right, onwards! After tea, toast (always THE best tasting toast after surgery, with real butter, none of this "one molecule away from being plastic" margarine nonsense 🤪) and being able to go to the toilet, I could get dressed, learn about the progesterone gel I need to use for the next 20 days and I was ready to go home - yay!

Quick, straight into a taxi, off to the station, Kevin had worked out which trains were best to get, tickets bought, short wait and onto the train we were. Just over an hour later we were back in Edinburgh, Calum had realised he'd be finishing at a school nearby Haymarket around the same time we'd be arriving so he was able to pick us up and off on the last leg we went - Edinburgh road bumps and all 😫 this was where I was most aware of the pain I had while sitting down - ouchie. I was told I'd be tender, almost like a very heavy period for a number of days but this was the first time I'd ever thought that sitting on a doughnut pillow would have been helpful!

I had decided that I was treating myself to a Dominoes pizza tonight so we ordered that on the way home and picked it up on route so we could eat before I needed to rest and before Calum was teaching. It was so tasty! But, shortly after I felt really unwell. I wasn't sure if it was the pizza, the overwhelming feeling of food in my stomach after so long being on juice and being careful what I ate throughout this process but I also felt intense pain in my abdomen and needed quick relief so I had a bath. I was then feeling very sick and was worried that I'd overdone it with the pizza, however, only cloudy, peachy-coloured mucas or bile-like liquid (although that was always green when it happened to me as a child on my period) came out, not a single slice made its way back up my gullet - strange. I did feel some relief afterwards though and Mum did point out how much drugs and poking and prodding I'd gone through so straight to bed with a hot-water bottle it was for me!

I tried a short video call with Kevin around 6pm but it didn't last long for I was clearly falling asleep, was in pain and couldn't sustain the conversation. Mum's been great coming in every so often to check on me, bringing me tea, iced water, painkillers & topping up the hot-water bottle - each 2hr period went by in a flash. Now its after midnight, I'm wide awake and I perhaps need to try to get back to sleep to maintain my body clock’s routine.

In the morning I'll be waiting for a call between 0830-1200 to tell us if any of the 11 eggs (oh yes, I forgot to say, they managed to collect 11 eggs! 🥰) have fertilised overnight. The procedure went according to plan and there were many large follicles alongside some smaller ones, which all produced eggs! Of course I'm delighted as the bigger the number, the more of a chance of fertilisation occurring (about 60-70%) but they have warned that perhaps not all of them will be mature enough and they just won't know that until they go to inject them individually which they were doing this afternoon. I kept saying to each nurse who came to speak to me "It only takes 1" which is true but a very human-minded angle to take. Of course what I mean is that God only needs 1 to create our wee miracle - if it is His intention. 11 eggs have been collected, around half may fertilise, half of those may make it to blastocyst stage, 1 or 2 might make it to a transfer. Or none. There is no way of telling - but God knows.

Whatever happens tomorrow (today now really!) or in the coming days before a potential transfer on Saturday, I know that I've done all that I can, within my power to follow the rules, do as I'm told for this process, but only God has the final say over whether any part of this process is a success or not. So far, he has graced me with his abundant love and graced us with the opportunity to have these final chances at having a family that we so dearly desire. God hears our prayers, our deepest desires, no bargaining is required & certainly no "if I do this, he'll do this" nonsense. If it is His will, He will make it happen. He created medical advances, He created the staff who carry out the medical procedures, He provided the funding for the government to give Scots 3 chances at IVF, He decided that this path was for us and although I questioned it several times, Kevin believed, like the innocence that a child has when they look to their parent for answers.

"Likewise, you who are younger, be subject to the elders. Clothe yourselves, all of you, with humility toward one another, for "God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble." Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at a proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you." - 1 Peter 5:5-7

Prayer points to consider:

Thank God for the wonders that he has created in our scientific/medical/engineering world.

Thank God for keeping Màiri and Kevin safe & healthy during this challenging process.

Pray for the staff at Ninewells that they may come to rest their weariness, to look to the Lord for strength.

Pray for the eggs taken from Màiri's body today, that they be kept safe overnight and over the following days as they hopefully bond together with Kevin's DNA and develop into healthy embryos.

Pray for the embryologists, that they may see God's wonder of His creation when they look through their microscope. Only he could engineer such amazing cells which one day could grow into a child who walks on this earth.

Pray for Màiri as she recovers and rests in the hope that each day brings encouraging news.

Pray for Kevin who is experiencing this from afar, that he feels close to the process and give him strength in his relationship with his mighty nemesis - patience!

Pray for the 2 other ladies who also went through egg collections today, that their journey may be blessed and anxieties eased.

Pray for other couples, at different stages of their journeys in the unit - embryo transfers and scans/tests that were happening today too.

I pray too for all of you wonderful, supportive people who are reading this, thinking of us, praying for us and hoping with us. WE THANK YOU ALL FROM THE BOTTOM OF OUR HEARTS 💝

Waiting for the train home

"And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen and establish you" - 1 Peter 5:10

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killerskillercaptain · 3 years ago

Text

Embarrassing moments w/Levi Ackerman BOOK III

You can read Book I and Book II if you hadn't yet.

pairing : Levi ackerman x reader

wc : 1 351

themes : Hange brought you and Levi some flowers form an expedition, you made tea with them, you regretted it.

warnings : nsfw, minors dni, angst, humor.

The ceremonial tea incident

"In that village we were in, those are flowers we gift newlyweds" explained Hange while showing you a bouquet of delicate small flowers with an ethereal violet color to them.

Hange and Moblit had just came back from an expedition in a village next to their HQ.

"I got them from an old lady's garden, she told me that traditionally they make tea with those flowers and give it to the newly married couple to drink, it's like a ceremonial tea or something. She gave me some of them and before i could ask her more questions she said she had to go." Hange paused for a second " i could swear i saw her giggle a little when she waled away, but never mind !"

"Why did you need those flowers for ?" you asked, genuinely curious.

"Oh, i didn't need those ones specifically, her garden had an incredible amount of specimens and i was searching for some aromatic herbs for my next experiences with titans, i found out that some of them were pretty repulsed by plants like basil and fennel, i wanted to see if there are plants they were attracted to instead"

"Oh, i see"

"Maybe they hate basil and fennel because in reality titans used to be humans and they cooked so much with those herbs that they got sick of them" said Moblit, joking.

"Don't be silly, titans can't be humans" said a low and stern voice entering the lab where all of you were gathered.

"Oh, captain Levi !" you said "Good evening !"

it was almost 7pm, and you hadn't seen him all day because you spent your entire day with Hange and Moblit in their lab.

"Here, i don't need them for my experiments, you can have them !" Hange handed you the small freshly picked bouquet "You should put them in the office you and Levi work in together, that place is awfully neat and depressing, just like Levi"

"Oi!"

"Oh, i know ! Why don't you prepare some tea with them ! if they give it to newlyweds it must be sweet and probably relaxing, Levi could use some of it !"

"Tea sounds good" said Levi.

****

8pm

Since you had to spend all your time today with Hange, there was an awful amount of work waiting for you. You sat at your usual desk, across from Levi's, a mountain of paper stacked on each one, a pitcher and two tea cups on a small tray next to you.

You had brewed some tea with those flowers, just like Hange suggested, and Levi always liked to drink tea when you stayed up late doing paper work. The infusion was a very crystalline and had beautiful color, and both of you had emptied half the pitcher by now, Hange was right, it was sweet. After finished your third cup, you got to work.

9pm

Even though the night was cold, you started feeling kind of warm, hot even. You opened up the two first buttons of your shirt and tried to go back to reading the document in front of you. You watched the words dance before your eyes without grasping their meaning, you tried hard to focus and for a good ten minutes, managed to complete the work at hand, but soon after, a sudden rush of heat caught you off guard again, it felt a lot like a fever, without being one, you were completely fine when you got here with the captain.

Speaking of the captain, you threw a curious glance at him. You were surprised to see his cravate completely loose over his neck, and some drops of sweat pearling on his forehead. So you weren't the only one feeling this strange heat, but where could it come from? how could you both feel so hot while the night was practically freezing. Levi didn't say anything, so you decided to ignore how your body was rising in temperature and how your cheeks were starting to burn.

10pm

You stopped doing your paperwork half an hour ago, you were incapable of focusing on anything, and the heat you felt coming from your body had traveled down to your must intimate parts.

What in the world is happening ?

Levi was repeatedly shifting behind his desk, opening his legs, closing them, then opening them again, a light touch of red rising up from his cheeks to his ears.

"Open the damn window !" he almost shouted

"It's open since we got here captain"

"Then why is it so damn hot in here" he said more to himself than to you.

He got up, paced around his desk, then around the office holding his document, but soon he headed again toward his office. When he turned around to sit in his seat across from you, you saw it.

Oh, no no no no no no.

You saw it, the noticeable bulge in his pants. Panicking you lowered your eyes to look at your desk again, trying to assess the situation, it can't be a coincidence, you were feeling hot too, and the heat you felt down there was arousal for sure, and there was Levi, having possibly an erection and all red. Both of you were completely fine when you entered the office you thought to yourself, you wiped your sweaty forehead with your hand almost knocking the pitcher out of the desk.

The pitcher ! The tea ! It's the only thing that's not normally part of your work routine.

It suddenly hit you. The tea, the flowers. Hange said they were traditionally given as a gift to newlyweds, as beverage, the woman who told her that was giggling when she handed them to Hange.

A gift to newlyweds...

This doesn't put people to sleep ! this is an aphrodisiac !

Your heart started to pound, you didn't know if it was from the realization or from the tea and you could swear Levi was able to hear the sound coming from your chest.

It was already 11pm when Levi got up again, the stack of paper hiding his bulge from you which you were grateful for, Levi seemed incredibly restless, he must have reached his limits, and you were too scared to ask if you could leave earlier.

"Get out !" he said furiously

"W-"

"You're dismissed ! that's it for tonight ! get out !"

You were glad you could run out of this suffocating situation but worried about Levi, did he understand what was happening ?

11:30pm

After you've thrown a hurried "Good night" to him, you rushed through the corridors and headed directly to your bedroom, you heard Levi's footsteps behind you, doing the same but in the opposite direction.

His bedroom isn't in that direction you thought, but you were feeling too aroused and dizzy to care, you needed to get to your bedroom. Finally there, you opened your bathroom, and for the first time since you were in these HQ, you were thankful the water was freezing, you took off your clothes and prepared to get rid of the now unbearable urge.

1am

The urged had passed, and the entire time you were in that cold bath, you wondered how Levi managed to get rid of his unsettling state.

*****

8am

You woke up the next morning in a good mood, and had completely gotten over yesterday's embarrassing event, walking in the hallway, heading for Hange's lab, you were going to tell her about those damn flowers when you heard Levi's shouting voice behind the lab's door.

"NEXT TIME YOU BRING ANOTHER DISGUSTING PLANT MAKE SURE YOU KNOW WHAT IT IS !"

"B-But why ? what happened ?" Hange's voice was almost inaudible, and it quivered with fear.

You didn't hear Levi answer her question, the door was slammed open violently, almost hitting you in the process, and an incredibly angry Levi appeared, he looked at you before quickly staring blankly ahead and continued walking as if you didn't exist.

Hange soon appeared, trembling and puzzled, as soon as she saw you, she grabbed your hand.

"What happened ? did the tea flower make you sick ?"

"Y-you can say that"

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hercleverboy · 4 years ago

Text

persistence

spencer reid x reader

summary ↠ when spencer finds out that the reader has a stalker, he is determined to not let history repeat itself.

category ↠ angst/fluff

warnings/includes ↠ stalker-like activity, death threats, few swear words, descriptions of blood, puking, spencer being kinda emotionally manipulative

word count ↠ 8.2k

“Normality is a paved road. It’s comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow.”-- Vincent Van Gogh

Y/N stared down at the letter in her hands. Her fingers trembled, tears blurring her vision as she reread the words over and over. Written in an ominous red ink, a chicken-scratch-like writing filled the page.

‘If I can’t have you, no one can.’

It had all started two months ago.

First, it was the dark blue Sedan that she began noticing sat across the street from her apartment complex. Of course it easily could’ve belonged to one of the many people who lived in the complex, or perhaps even a friend of theirs. At first, it went unnoticed by her. It was only when she started taking note of the hours it was parked there that she began to get slightly concerned.

8am to 8pm. Every single day.

Like clockwork.

She’d peak through her living room curtains at 8am, and watch the car pull into its usual spot. It wouldn’t move all day but as soon as it struck 8pm, it left again- only to return the next day.

However, ever the sceptic, she didn’t want to blow the situation out of proportion. Her mind came up with countless possibilities. The owner was staying with a friend who lived close by (but then why would the car not be there overnight?), or perhaps it was an plain-clothed officer doing some form of undercover work? Honestly, there was nothing she hadn’t considered. So while the presence of the unexplainable car was a little unnerving, it wasn’t enough to make her paranoid.

The paranoia began when sheets of paper began being posted through her letterbox. They always came between the times that the blue car was parked outside, and had only a few words on each one that was delivered.

‘I’ve been watching you, you know.’

‘You’re so beautiful.’

‘That boyfriend of yours, does he hold you like I did?’

‘Does he touch you like I did?’

Whilst they weren’t exactly threats, they were enough to set her skin alight. She was constantly looking over her shoulder, jumpy and paranoid.

Spencer noticed it, too.

He’d seen the subtle change in his girlfriend’s body language, but didn’t want to push her on the matter. He had asked once, but she’d reassured him that she was fine. So he decided that he’d let her confide in him when she was ready, but that didn’t mean that this change in behaviour didn’t make his heart ache.

He was a profiler, one of the best, he knew the behavioural tells that signalled fear.

So what was she so afraid of?

Then the phone calls started.

Y/N heard the buzz of her phone, assuming it was Spencer calling. He was out of state on a case, but he always called to check up on her, or to notify her he was almost home. Although they didn’t live together yet, Spencer spent most of his spare time at her apartment. (He’d joked once that it was because her place was bigger than his, but really it was because his work took him away from her so often that he wanted to spend any spare minute he could with her.)

Reaching for the device, she frowned as she saw ‘Unknown Number’ flash across the screen.

“Hello?”

Silence.

“Hello?”

and then she heard it.

Heavy, husky breathing on the other end of the line.

The caller didn’t speak.

Unease filled her as she pulled the phone away from her ear and hung up. She placed her phone down beside her, biting down on her bottom lip as she attempted to rationalise what’d just happened.

Probably a butt dial, or maybe even a wrong number?

She pushed it to the back of her mind, distracting herself so that she wouldn’t have to confirm what she already knew was true.

The second call came two days later.

Spencer had returned earlier that day from an exhausting but overall successful case. He hadn’t even stopped by his place after landing, instead opting to go straight to Y/N’s apartment, unable to contain his excitement of seeing her for the first time in a week.

He let himself in with the key she’d given him for their one year anniversary, as he quietly made his way into the home. He called out her name, announcing his presence so she’d know he was home.

When she didn’t come to greet him in the hallway, or even call back to let him know she’d heard him he frowned. He slipped off his shoes before moving down the hallway, his eyes finally landing on her figure in the living room. She was stood by the large window that overlooked the street below them, her phone pressed to her ear. Spencer took in her body language, noting how her shoulders were tensed, and how the hand not holding her phone was gripping tightly onto the curtains as she peaked between them.

The unknown caller hung up, and Y/N looked down at her phone in her hand, eyes welling with tears- still unaware of Spencer’s presence behind her.

“Y/N?” He asked quietly, trying not to startle her but still managing to.

She shrieked, turning around to face him, relief filling her features as she saw the familiar sight of her boyfriend. She forced a smile on her lips and pushed her worries away, wiping the tears from her cheeks quickly and hoping he hadn’t already seen them. “Spence! God, I’m sorry. I didn’t notice you were home.” She chuckled.

His frown only deepened as he moved toward her. “Is everything okay? Who was that on the phone?”

Y/N’s breath hitched as she quickly came up with an excuse. “Oh, It was no-one.” She waved it off, hoping she’d played it off well enough to ease his worry.

Once he reached her he put his arms around her, enveloping her in a tight hug, his arms around her waist. She sighed, hugging him back with her arms around his neck.

He nuzzled his face into her neck, placing a kiss there that was so soft and delicate that it almost moved her to tears. “You know you can tell me anything, right? If something’s bothering you or worrying you then you don’t have to keep it to yourself. I’m here.” He whispered.

“I know.” She whispered back, squeezing him gently to comfort herself. “Thank you.”

Truth is, she knew she could tell Spencer what was happening. She knew that he would immediately inform his team, and with their wonderful minds and Garcia’s infinite systems, they’d have their unsub within days. So what was stopping her?

or more specifically, who was stopping her?

The answer would be Maeve, the woman that Spencer once loved, who he lost so suddenly and so tragically. She’d heard what had happened, and had comforted Spencer when he cried as he told her of the only other woman he’d ever loved, apart from Y/N. He’d confided in her about Maeve around four months into their relationship, and Y/N was grateful that Spencer trusted her enough to tell her such a thing. Losing the person you loved like that? Y/N couldn’t fathom it. Her heart ached for Spencer, and the heartbreak he’d endured.

She didn’t want to worry him over what might be nothing. After what happened with Maeve, she didn’t want to make him suffer all that again, to make him think that it was all happening again. She never wanted to be the reason for his hurt, and she knew that telling him is exactly what it would do- make him anxious, worried. She knew her boyfriend like the back of her hand. He’d go into overdrive trying to protect her, to prevent what happened to Maeve from happening to her. But still, she refused to be the one that set those events into motion. She knew it was stupid, he boyfriend was in the FBI- who are exactly the type of people you’d go to if you had a stalker.

She had tried to tell him a few times but when she opened her mouth to say the words, nothing would come out.

The final straw was the letters.

The first one was pushed through her letterbox on a Friday afternoon. Spencer was at work, thankfully only on a paperwork day instead of being called for a case. There was no name or address on the front of the letter.

She felt sick. Immediately she knew it was from him. At least she presumed it was a ‘he’, from the possessive tone of voice in the notes.

She ripped it open, taking out the letter. It was a single sheet of paper, both sides filled with that chicken scratch writing. Her eyes skimmed over the words written before her, tears blurring her vision. It was a love letter. Her stalker even gave her a nickname, ‘Dove’.

‘My darling dove, you were made for me.’

‘My love for you knows no bounds.’

‘You’ve got such a beautiful laugh, I’ve heard it.’

‘And your skin, so perfect, so soft looking. I’d love to run my fingers along your-’

Y/N let the letter drop to the floor as she felt the bile rise in her throat, dashing to the bathroom and throwing up her stomach contents in the toilet.

She felt sickened. She couldn’t bring herself to read what was left of the letter, instead screwing it up and throwing it away. The words she had read haunted her, made her feel disgusting. She spent hours in the shower that night, as though she was scrubbing his filthy words off of her skin.

The letters continued, and with each one, the comments became more and more repulsive. Instead of declaring his undying love for her, her stalker began to get enraged. With each letter he became increasingly angrier, and it shook Y/N to her core.

‘You whore, I could hear your moaning for that little boyfriend of yours from across the street’

‘When I get my hands on you, you’ll be begging for me to show you mercy’

‘I’ve protected you, watched over you! I’ve taken care of you for months now and this is how you repay me?’

‘Fucking dirty slut. I’ll kill you for that.’

‘What a shame it would be for that pretty flesh to be torn so carelessly, but it seems I’ll have to teach you a lesson, dove.’

‘You’ve made a mistake, choosing him over me.’

All of those led to one final letter.

Written in red ink, eight simple words with a sinister underlying message.

‘If I can’t have you, no one can.’

Dropping the paper as though it had burned her, she desperately tried to slow the breaths that were increasing rapidly, willing the air to fill her lungs.

The realisation hit her like a freight train.

She was in danger, real danger. Now that her life had been threatened, she knew she couldn’t hide it any longer.

No matter the consequences, she had to come clean to Spencer.

She scrambled around her apartment, grabbing any evidence she had in the form of letters/threats and made sure she had her phone so she could show them the phone calls from an unknown number.

She glanced out the window to the street below. It was only midday, and she could see the familiar blue Sedan parked opposite her complex. She just had to get to her car safely, which should be a relatively easy task, given the numerous people who were walking down the bustling street- the perks of living on a main road.

She made it to her car thankfully unscathed, locking the doors behind her. She didn’t dare look across the road at the car, afraid of what, or who she would see. As she drove to the BAU, she anxiously tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. She anticipated what Spencer’s reaction was going to be- he’d be angry, definitely. Y/N was torn, she wanted to stand by the decision she’d made two months prior to not involve her boyfriend with what was going on, but now she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d made a poor choice. If she’d have told Spencer earlier, things would’ve been resolved. But by telling him the truth, she couldn’t help but ponder if she was putting him or his team in danger.

Shaking her head clear the thoughts, she pulled into the car park that was next to the building. Taking a few deep breaths, she grabbed her bag and headed toward the buildings’ entrance. Her palms were sweaty and her throat was dry. What the hell was she going to say? ‘Hey Spence, I have a stalker who’s threatening to kill me that I neglected to tell you about, how’s your day going?’

After being granted access at the front desk, she was given a visitors badge and headed up to the sixth floor of the building. As she stood alone in the elevator, she tried to take a few breaths, feeling the familiar clawing at the back of her throat that indicated she was close to breaking down. She’d been holding it together for so long, been so fucking scared for so long.

As soon as the doors opened she was greeted with the smiling face of one Penelope Garcia.

When Spencer and her had begun dating he brought Y/N along to one of Rossi’s pasta nights and the whole team immediately took a liking to her, especially after seeing how happy she made Spencer. However Penelope in particular absolutely adored Y/N, and the two had even hung out together a few times.

Garcia gasped with a grin as the doors opened. “My sweet Y/N! I got the notification that you’d checked in downstairs and thought I’d come greet you!” She moved toward her, hugging Y/N tightly. “Are you here to see our boy wonder? He’s around here somewhere-” She pulled back when she noticed the tenseness in Y/N’s shoulders. When Garcia met her teary eyes she gasped at the sight. “What’s wrong?”

Y/N finally let the tears tremble down her cheeks, reaching into her bag to grab the handfuls of threating letters from the person who’d made her life hell for two long months. She handed them to Garcia, who after years of working that job knew from the first few words what they were dealing with.

Y/N met her worried eyes. “It’s bad, Penny. Really bad.”

Garcia nodded, shocked but still placing a comforting arm on Y/N’s back. “Reid- He never mentioned-”

Y/N shook her head. “I didn’t tell him. I didn’t want him to worry over nothing but- this is the first time he’s threatened my life and I’m scared, Pen. I’m really scared.”

Garcia burst into action, coaxing Y/N with gentle words to head into the bullpen. As soon as they walked through the glass doors, all of the team member’s heads turned toward them. Spencer’s eyes immediately fell on his girlfriend’s tear stained cheeks and within seconds he was by her side.

“Y/N, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

She shook her head, moving forward and wrapping her arms around him. He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her, holding her to him as she cried into his chest, her shoulders shaking as she let out everything she’d buried so deep inside.

He looked over at Garcia, bewildered. She simply walked up to Hotch’s office. The team could faintly hear Garcia presenting him with the papers Y/N had brought with her, explaining what she had told her when she arrived.

Minutes later Hotch came out of his office, walking down into the bullpen to where the team all looked at one another, confusion on their features.

“Y/N?” He asked as he approached her, and she pulled back from spencer to see him, wiping her tear stained cheeks. “You’re gonna need to tell us everything. You may be in immediate danger.”

Y/N nodded and Hotch headed off toward the round table room, Garcia scurrying in behind him. The rest of the team, with concerned glances to one another, followed into the room. This left Y/N and Spencer alone in the bullpen.

She felt Spencer gripping her hand, squeezing gently. Worry laced in his tone, he moved to stand before her and locked onto her eyes. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

Y/N nodded and cleared her throat, her voice quiet with shame as she spoke. “I have a stalker. He sends letters, calls just to breathe down the line and scare me. In his recent letter, he said he’s gonna kill me.”

Spencer’s eyes widened, his hand dropping from hers and he turning and stalked toward the board room. He had to see the evidence for himself.

He reached the room and the groups gazes all shifted to him, but he could’ve cared less. He reached out for one of the sheets of paper, eyes quickly scanning over the threatening words as Y/N entered the room behind him.

“When did this start, Y/N?” JJ asked, that caring, motherly tone present in her voice.

“About two months ago.”

“Did you notice anything odd about the neighbourhood beforehand? Cars that weren’t normally there, people stood on street corners at odd times of day?” Derek queried, his eyes scanning over some of the notes she’d received.

She nodded. “There was a car I noticed, right at the start. I didn’t think much of it until I started taking note of the timings. It would sit there all day, but be gone overnight. Then it would return the next day.”

“Do remember the colour, or make of car?”

“Yeah, a dark blue Sedan. Then a few days later the phone calls started.”

“Garcia I need you to run through Y/N’s phone records, see if you can trace the number they were calling from.” Hotch ordered and Garcia quickly left the room, heading to her bat cave.

“Here, listen to this.” JJ started, holding up one of the first letters. “I’m doing this because I love you, pretty dove. So very much. It’s okay, you’ll see.” She looked up to her team. “He’s planning something.”

Hotch turned his attention to her. “Y/N’s safety is our primary concern. This unsub seems to have fixated on her, for whatever reason. Y/N, do you have any ex boyfriends or enemies we need to know about?”

“I have five ex’s, but I don’t think any of them would be capable of this.” She reasoned, but there was a seed of doubt in the back of her mind.

At her words, Spencer stood up, slamming the letters down on the table with an audible thud before leaving the room. Y/N stared after him hopelessly, Hotch clearing his throat before speaking again.

“I’ll need a list of their names.”

Derek piped up. “We also need to know locations of spots that you frequent, anywhere you may have met this guy. Coffee shops, restaurants, even the library. No detail is too small, okay?”

Y/N nodded, turning back to stare out the door that Spencer had stormed out of moments before. “I’m just going to go check on him.” She murmured, earning an apologetic smile from JJ.

She found him outside the building, sat on one of the stone steps of the staircase that led up to the buildings entrance. He had his head in his hands, trying to calm down the thoughts that sped through his overworking mind.

She sat beside him, draping his coat that she’d grabbed from his desk over his shoulders to combat the cold winter air. “You’ll catch a cold.” She muttered, offering a small smile as he looked over at her. Despite how he felt, he let the smallest of smiles find its way onto his lips at the comment. She had a stalker threatening her life and she was worried about him catching a cold?

They sat in silence for a little before Y/N broke it. “I’m so sorry, Spencer.”

“Why are you sorry? It’s not your fault.” He mumbled, looking out to the street, watching people walk by. When Y/N didn’t answer, he spoke again. “You could’ve told me, you know?”

“I know, and I’m sorry I didn’t.” She whispered sincerely.

“Why didn’t you say something, Y/N? I would’ve dropped everything to make sure you were safe.” He promised, trying to make his voice sound strong, but failing as it cracked with his words.

“I didn’t think it was important. He wasn’t threatening at the start, and I thought I could handle it.” Now the words were leaving her mouth, she knew she sounded stupid.

“You didn’t think it was important?” Spencer repeated back to her, his breaths heavy as he failed to understand her reasoning. “Y/N you are the most important thing in the world to me. Okay? Please tell me you know that.” He turned his body toward her.

“I know. I know and I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner. It’s just I know- after everything that happened before with Maeve-“ She paused for a moment. “I didn’t want to worry you over nothing.”

His breath hitched when she said Maeve’s name, and Y/N could almost see him replaying the moment he lost her in his mind. The curse of an eidetic memory.

“I’m not going to let that happen to you- no, not you. Never you.” He sniffed, reaching over to take her hand in his.

She nodded, tears filling her eyes once more. She cuddled into his side, her head dropping on his shoulder. She sniffled. “I’m scared, Spencer.”

“It’s okay. He’s not coming anywhere near you, Y/N. I swear to you, he’s not going to hurt you. Not while I’m here.” He brought her hand up and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

Over the next few days, the team spent hours analysing ever piece of evidence Y/N had received, and Garcia went through tons of security footage, trying to get a good look at whoever was in the blue Sedan. She’d ran the license plates, but they’d come back as being fake, so that had been a pretty dead end, and the phone number she’d traced had come from a payphone, so there was no lead there either.

Spencer was evidently over-working himself, not taking breaks from work to eat or sleep. He reread the words a hundred times, desperately looking for what it was he must’ve missed. He was filled with this overwhelming need to protect her, to keep Y/N safe. To succeed where he’d failed previously. He couldn’t afford to make the same mistake he’d made with Maeve. He’d let his emotions cloud his judgement and it cost Maeve her life. He wouldn’t make that same mistake again.

There wasn’t time for that, not when Y/N was in danger.

Y/N spent most of her time alongside Spencer at the BAU, mostly because he insisted that she was somewhere he could keep an eye on her at all times. She only went home in the evenings so she could change and sleep in her own bed, but always with a police escort that Spencer had himself done a thorough background check on and knew could be trusted.

Eventually, It had been an entire week. Spencer had only had a handful of sleep, only when the exhaustion became too much did he pass out and actually get a few hours of sleep before he was right back at it. Members of the team who attempted to gently voice their concern for him received a scowl in response, with Y/N even trying to get through to him, but he just shrugged her off. Ultimately, Hotch had to pull him aside to talk.

Hotch walked into the room where Y/N sat reading silently in the corner while Spencer’s eyes ran over the words he’d already read a hundred times.

“Reid, Can I speak to you?”

Spencer’s head snapped up, pissed that he was being interrupted from the task before him. He grunted under his breath, standing up and walking out of the room.

Hotch brought Spencer up to his office, closing the door behind them so there was some dilution to the raised voices that were definitely going to come from this conversation. He sighed, turning to face the younger man and crossing his arms. “The Bureau don’t want us using any more of our time on this case. The unsub has been inactive for a week, and we have other cases building up that take priority.”

Spencer scoffed. “You want us to stop? You can’t be serious.”

“I’m afraid not. The order came from above me, I have no power here. The best we can do for now is send Y/N home with police protection until this guy resurfaces.”

“You wanna send her home? No way, Hotch! There’s some son of a bitch after her and you want her to be at home?” He was angrier than Hotch had seen him be in a long while.

Hotch sighed. “Reid. It’s out of my hands. I recognise how hard this is for you, but we have no choice.”

“But I- I can’t protect her if she’s not with me! I can’t keep her safe.” His tone changed from angry to more of a begging. “Please, Hotch. There’s got to be something you can do.”

“I’m sorry.”

Spencer huffed, his anger returning. “Bullshit! You know as well as I do that she’s vulnerable as soon as she leaves here. Police presence or not, if something happens to her-”

Hotch shot him a warning look, which made Spencer stop mid-sentence.

“You’re done with this case for now, understand? Until he resurfaces, we have other priorities.” Hotch spoke. Spencer scoffed, walking and brushing past his unit chief. “That’s an order, Reid.” He warned.

Spencer ignored him, heading back to the room he’d left Y/N in, his mind refocused on getting back to his previous task- despite Hotch’s orders.

He stepped into the room, slamming the door closed behind him, earning a surprised squeak from Y/N, who still sat in the corner with her book in hand. He looked over at her, running a hand through his hair frustratedly. “He wants you to go home, and we have to put the case on hold because we have others to work on. Can you believe that? How could he ask that of me?” He laughed humourlessly as Y/N shut her book, placing it next to her.

She sighed, standing, knowing he wasn’t going to like what she had to say. “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

It was just the protective side of him coming out, and at first Y/N thought it was endearing, but he couldn’t neglect his own needs to favour hers any more. She wouldn’t let him.

“Spencer, you gotta stop this. I know how hard you’re working, and I’m so grateful, but you’re killing yourself here.” Her voice was gentle, hoping she’d be able to appeal to him.

“No! No Y/N I’m not stopping until we get this guy, until you’re safe.” He snapped.

“You heard what Hotch said, you have other cases that need to take priority.” She moved toward him, still trying to reason with him. She was still scared to death, and she didn’t particularly want to leave Spencer’s side- after all he made her feel safe. But there were people who needed him and his team, and if she was no longer in imminent danger, his talents were needed elsewhere. It made her feel sick, but it’s the way it was. They were just going to have to wait for this guy to make his next move.

“But Y/N, you are my priority. Don’t you get that?” He asked, moving back as she came toward him. The motion hurt her, so she stood still.

“I do, I promise you I do, but there’s people out there who need that beautiful mind of yours more than I do right now.”

He scoffed. “So you just expect me to give up?”

“Of course not, but Hotch is right. What if this guy never makes any other moves? What if he just wanted to scare me? You can’t waste your time. It’s too valuable.”

“And what if the second you walk out of those doors he gets you?” Spencer shouted, his arms coming out by his sides to exaggerate his point.

“Then you’ll find me. If that happened, which is a worse-case scenario, I have faith that you and this team would find me and bring me home.”

“And if I can’t? If I fail, again? If I have to watch you die like I watched-” His breath hitched, his voice catching. He cleared his throat before speaking again. “No, No. I will not lose you, do you understand? I will not stop looking for this son of a bitch, not ever. I’m not letting you go home, Y/N. I’m sorry, that’s final.”

“Spencer, you can’t keep me here. You’d be disobeying Hotch’s direct orders-”

He shook his head. “I’m not having this conversation with you, Y/N. I’ll talk to Hotch, change his mind. Just- stay here. Please.” The last word was quiet and pleading, a stark contrast from the tone he was using before. He picked up the evidence files he was going through and walked away, feet stomping as his anger still radiated off of him.

Y/N had stood there for a minute, collecting herself before she took a shaky deep breath, bringing her hand up to wipe the tears that trickled down her cheeks.

She walked out to the bullpen, ignoring how Spencer had asked her to stay. Her eyes met Derek’s who offered her an apologetic smile.

“Hey.” He called out to her as she passed by. “Whatever the kid said, he didn’t mean it. He just wants to keep you safe.”

She gave a sad smile. “I know. Um, is it alright if I just step out the front for some air? I’m feeling a little boxed in.”

“Sure thing. I’ll keep you company, make sure you get back alright.” He stood up from his desk chair, grabbing his jacket and accompanying her downstairs.

When they got there Y/N turned to him. “Is it alright if I have a moment alone? I’ll stay where you can see me, I just need a minute.”

Derek was hesitant, but nodded. She pushed open the doors, out into the cold night. She remained stood by the front doors, where they bright lights from indoors seeped outside, lighting up the pavement. She took a few deep breaths, letting the cold air fill her lungs, hoping it’ll help alleviate the stinging pain in her heart. She looked up at the sky, willing herself to keep her tears at bay. She appreciated what Spencer was doing, and adored his instinct to protect her, keep her safe. She knew how stubborn he could be at times, but now she thought about it, maybe when she sided with Hotch earlier it made it seem like she didn’t have his back, which was certainly not the case.

Derek watched as Y/N collected herself, seeing that she was about to turn and come back inside. Suddenly someone bumped into his side, his attention turning from Y/N to the person who collided with him. He looked over to see a young man he didn’t recognise.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going. My apologies.” The man apologised before walking off.

Derek furrowed his brow, before turning back to look outside.

Y/N wasn’t there.

He bolted forward toward the doors, flinging them open and looking left and right for any sight of her.

She was long gone. And so was whoever took her.

Hearing a crinkle beneath his feet, Derek looked down at the sound, noticing a scrap piece of newspaper on the floor where Y/N had been stood.

He picked it up, unfolding the paper. On it, written in the familiar blood red chicken scratch was the same threatening message Y/N had received before.

‘If I can’t have her, no one can.’

Derek placed the paper down on the roundtable, that the team was now gathered around, shock and worry on their faces.

Hotch closed his eyes with a sigh as he looked at the paper, guilt rushing over him. Just then Spencer came into the room, immediately picking up on the mood that had settled over the team.

“What’s’‘-” His eyes landed on the message, the realisation spreading over his features. “Where’s Y/N?” He asked, a sort of denial in his voice.

“He has her.” Derek confirmed, bowing his head down in shame that he hadn’t protected her like he was supposed to.

“Morgan, What happened? You took her out to get some air and then what?” Emily asked, trying to establish where it’d gone wrong.

“I took my eyes off of her for a minute, some guy bumped into me and it distracted me, and when I looked back she was gone.”

Emily’s mouth opened as she connected the dots. “It must’ve been a distraction, one guy bumps into you so that you take your eyes off of her while the other guy grabs her.”

“So what, we’re looking for a partner here as well?” JJ posed, looking up at her team.

“It would seem so. He waited for his opportunity, and when it came he took it.” Rossi chimed in.

“This is now an active investigation, we have a missing woman who’s already been gone for nearly an hour. We’ve got to work fast.” Hotch ordered, which sent the team out of their seats, each with a task assigned to them. However, Spencer still sat in one of the chairs, trembling fingers trailing over the words before him. The air in the room seemed thinner, his lungs working harder to fill themselves.

“Reid? Reid.” Morgan tried, but all he got from Spencer was little incoherent mumbles.

Finally, he looked up to meet Morgan’s eyes, the words he’d been whispering falling from his lips in a more audible whimper. “He’s gonna kill her.” He choked on his words, the realisation crashing down on him. “I’m going to lose her too.”

Time was a precious thing.

Spencer had never been more aware of how quickly the seconds passed than he was at that moment.

He was on his knees, hunched over the toilet, hands gripping the sides in a vice-like grip, desperately trying to push down the nauseating feeling creeping its way up his throat. After the note that Morgan found, Spencer had rushed into the toilets, standing over the toilet bowl as he dry-heaved, holding himself back from being sick. He took heavy breaths, eyes screwing shut as he tried to think of anything other than the danger that Y/N was in.

He tried so hard to ignore the familiarity of the situation.

The thought set in motion a memory that he’d much rather forget, one that he pushed so far back in his mind so he could deny it had ever happened, that he’d ever allowed it to happen.

Ultimately, it was the curse of his brilliant memory, having the ability to perfectly recall things that happened years before.

As if he could ever forget that day, eidetic memory or not.

“Diane, Diane, there’s still a way out of this.”

“You never wanted me. Never! You lied!”

Diane has her arm around Maeve, gun pointed at her head. The bullet she’d shot into Spencer’s shoulder felt numb, the scorching pain felt irrelevant to the fear spiking his heart.

“I didn’t. Diane, I offered you a deal and you can still take it. Me for her. Let me take her place.” His eyes lock on Maeve’s, so full of fear, and he tries to reassure that she’ll be fine- because he knows she will. How many times has he talked down an unsub waving a gun around? She would be okay, she had to be.

“You would do that?”

“Yes.”

“You would kill yourself for her?”

“Yes.”

Of course he would. In a heartbeat.

“Thomas Merton.”

Maeve’s voice was small but sure. What scared Spencer the most was how certain she sounded, as though she’d accepted that this was her fate; her end.

“Who’s Thomas Merton?”

“He knows.”

She loved him. And he loved her. Oh how bittersweet.

“Who’s Thomas Merton, who is he?”

“He’s the one thing you can never take from us.”

Its only a moment’s hesitation, a moment that he should’ve reached for a gun, a moment where he should’ve taken his shot.

“No.” Diane scowled.

Time is a precious thing.

and Maeve’s was up.

“Wait-”

The shot still rung clear in Spencer’s ears, a sound he was sure he would hear for the rest of his days. His breaths were heaving again, his eyes flying open as he willed the image of Maeve’s body to leave his head. But when his eyes screwed shut again, it was someone else in her place.

It wasn’t Maeve’s body on the floor anymore. Instead, in her place lay Y/N, blood gushing from the open wound at the side of her head, her lifeless body cold against the concrete floor.

That’s the thought that made him sick, throwing up into the toilet at the thought of watching Y/N die the same way he watched Maeve.

Taking gasping breaths, he sat back against the side of the cubicle, hands running down his flustered face, feeling the streaks of tears that trembled down his cheeks.

He shook his head, as if that would erase the horrific thoughts swimming around. He reminded himself that Y/N was still alive, and they had no reason as of yet to believe that she wasn’t. It was that thought that made him pull himself to stand, raking his hands through his hair and trying to calm his quivering hands.

Y/N was still out there, waiting for him to save her.

He grit his teeth together as he walked out of the toilets.

He wouldn’t hesitate this time. He was not going to lose her.

He walked back into the roundtable room, ignoring the looks he received from the team. They had been bouncing theories off of one another, trying to use their profile to figure out who their unsub was, and where they would’ve taken Y/N.

“Is it possible a woman is our unsub, or perhaps even the partner?” Emily posed, her eyes scanning over one of the letters.

Derek shook his head. “I don’t think a woman would use language like this, it’s very derogatory, it exerts a power over Y/N.”

The team fell quiet in thought, only interrupted when Garcia came scurrying in, her laptop in her hands. “You’ll never guess what I just found!”

Everyone looked up to her, Hotch speaking. “What is it, Garcia?”

“I looked over the list of Y/N’s exes, and only one of them jumped out to me as a little suspicious. So I did some digging.” She tapped a few keys on her laptop before grabbing her remote and broadcasting to the team what she’d found on the TV. “Daniel ‘Danny’ Stone, 29, dated Y/N three years ago. He was her last boyfriend before she met Reid.”

“Three years? You don’t think he’s still bitter about the relationship ending?” Emily asked, confused.

“Three years is a long time. Why surface now?” JJ chimed.

“Reid, did Y/N ever mention her previous relationship ending on a rough note?” Rossi asked, turning to face the younger boy.

Spencer frowned. “She said the breakup was a little rocky, but nothing awful. The last time she spoke about him was a few months ago, said he got in some sort of accident?” He looked to Garcia for confirmation, and she nodded.

“Indeed. Stone was involved in a road collision four months ago.”

JJ hummed, looking through the medical reports on her iPad. “Says here he suffered brain damage, specifically to his pre-frontal cortex.”

“Well that would explain why this stalker seemingly came from nowhere. People who suffer damage like this are impulsive, unable to make rational choices.” Derek posed.

“So what’s the theory here? He wakes up after this accident, and because of his injury chooses to track down his ex? Three years after they break up?”

Morgan shook his head. “It isn’t a choice. Not anymore. He has to do it. He’s become fixated on her. He knows she’s with Reid, and like he said, If he can’t have her, the neither can Reid.”

“Okay, but why stalk her? What does he gain from that? Instead of just taking her and getting what he really wants?” Emily questioned.

“This newfound impulsivity would make him a risk-taker. He’ll do things that the average person wouldn’t dream of trying. But it’s unlikely that Stone actually staked out Y/N’s home, or delivered the letters to her door. He wouldn’t have the self-control to span this out over months. He just pulled the strings.”

“So that was his partner, then.” JJ deduced, earing nods from the team. “Then what does the partner gain from this? Why help Stone?”

“Maybe Stone manipulated them. Perhaps he has some form of information on them he’s using as blackmail?”

“Did you get an address on Stone, Garcia?” Hotch asked, and Garcia nodded enthusiastically.

“You know I did, It’s already been sent to your phones.”

“Alright, let’s go.”

The team all stood, heading for the doors. Spencer was quick to get up and follow, hope sparking in him now that they had an address. He was just about to leave the room when Hotch’s voice stopped him.

“Reid, you know I can’t let you come with us.” His voice was firm, he knew there could be no room for error here. Not after what happened last time.

“Like hell you can’t.” Reid snapped, turning around to face him. He’d regret his smart mouth later when Hotch undoubtedly told him off for it, but at that moment who couldn’t have cared less.

“We will get her and bring her home, but you can’t be involved in this. It’s a conflict of interest, you know that.”

“Oh, so it wasn’t a conflict of interest when you went after Foyet?”

It was a cheap shot, one that Spencer really regretted the second he said it, but amends could be made later.

Hotch’s face didn’t falter, despite the petty jab. “Yeah, and look where that got me.”

Spencer’s defesnive stance dropped, his arms falling by his sides. “Hotch. You were there when when Maeve died. Do you remember it?”

“Of course.”

“Not like I do. I can see every second of it every time I close my eyes. I can’t go through that again. I almost didn’t make it out the other side, If it happened again I don’t know if I could cope-” He stopped, his voice catching in his throat. “Just- Please.”

Hotch grunted, giving in. “Fine, but you can’t allow your emotions to cloud your thinking. I know it will be difficult but I need your head to be in this.Y/N’s life depends on it.”

Spencer nodded and they headed down toward the SUV’s.

They pulled up to the address, lights blaring and sirens sounding. They all quickly jumped out and regrouped, strapping their kevlar vests to their chests as they moved. They were stood in front of an abandoned apartment complex, one that had ben uninhabited for years.

“Alright Morgan, Prentiss I want you to go around the back, find a way in through there, see if you can find this partner of his. JJ, Rossi and Reid you’re with me. ” Hotch ordered, as they all drew their guns and prepared to head in.

As they stealthily walked through the building, they listened for any noise that indicated where the unsub was. Hotch, who was leading the group, pushed open a door to the staircase, and they were about to head up when they heard a bang coming from the floor below them.

They headed down the stairs, seeing that they were entering the buildings basement. They rounded the corner, guns at the ready, and stepping into a small boiler room.

In the centre of the room, Daniel stood. He held a struggling Y/N to his chest, his arm around her neck and gun placed at her temple.

Spencer recalled how it the sight was all too familiar, how Diane had held Maeve the same way.

Daniel’s voice broke him from his thoughts. “If you step any closer, she dies.”

“Okay, okay. We’ll stay back, but I need you to put down the gun.” Hotch tried, shooting a look over his shoulder to Spencer, a look that told him to stay put.

Daniel shook his head. “No. You’re going to ruin everything!”

“Ruin what?” JJ asked.

“My chance do what’s right. Y/N doesn’t want me. But I love her, can’t she see that? I would do anything for her, and still she would choose him over me?” Daniel’s eyes moved to meet with Spencer’s, narrowing.

“Daniel, we know what you went through. We know about your accident, how you’ve felt so out of control since, but if you come with us we can get you the help you need.” Rossi was next to attempt to convince him, but to no avail.

“No- No!” Daniel scowled, clenching his teeth as his gaze fixated on Spencer, who’s eyes were locked with Y/N’s, trying to silently reassure her that she was going to be okay. “She’s mine. I protected her, I’ve looked out for her. She’s finally going to understand.” He looked down at Y/N, his grip on her tightening, causing her to let out a frightened yelp.

Spencer gulped, tearing his gaze from Y/N and onto the unsub, putting on a strong and unbothered facade. He wouldn’t let himself be clouded by his emotions, not this time. “You’re right. You kept her safe, and I’m very grateful that you protected her when I failed to.”

“Thats right. You failed her. I’m so much better for her.” He seethed through his teeth. “ And that’s why, if she won’t chose me, she’ll have to die with me.”

“You don’t want to do that, Daniel. Put down the gun. We’ll bring you in, and if you tell us all about this partner of yours, we’ll tell everyone that you co-operated.” JJ suggested, her gun still aimed up at him.

“Why are you doing this?” Y/N gasped out, still struggling against his hold.

“Because if I can’t have you, the neither can he. No, No.” He grinned, bringing the gun up to his his own head. From where it was angled, the bullet would pass through his own head, and lodge itself in Y/N’s too. “You’re mine, Y/N.”

This time, Spencer didn’t hesitate.

One single gunshot.

Daniel collapsed to the floor, a bullet between his eyes.

Y/N fell to the ground with him in a fit of sobs, scrambling to get away from the man who lay dead on the floor, the pool of blood growing around him.

Spencer holstered his gun, immediately surging forward to wrap a trembling Y/N up in his arms.

“It’s okay, you’re okay. I’ve got you, you’re safe.” He cooed, rubbing a hand on her back in a soothing manner.

She sobbed into his chest as he held her, tears forming in his own eyes at the sound of her cries. But Spencer allowed himself a moment to breathe, looking over Y/N’s shoulder at the man he’d just shot without hesitation.

And he’d wouldn’t be losing any sleep over it, either.

He tightened his arms around her, thankful that she was safe. He brought her up to stand, his arms still tight around her. He looked toward his teammates, nodding gratefully at them as he walked Y/N out of the building. As he passed, he overheard JJ and Hotch’s conversation.

“Emily and Morgan found the partner fleeing out the back. They say he’s agreed to talk.”

With an internal sigh of relief, he held Y/N closer as they stepped out the doors of the building, guiding her toward the medical staff so she could be checked for injuries, despite how she told him she was fine. After it was concluded that she’d come out pretty unscathed, with only a few cuts and bruises, Spencer came and sat down next to her. She smiled weakly up at him, and he knew it would take a while for her usual bright smile to return, but she was alive- and right then that was all that mattered.

He immediately took her hand in his, gripping it tightly.

“Is it over?” She asked quietly, and he nodded.

“Yeah, they got the partner, and he’s going to co-operate in return for a reduced sentence, but he’ll still be going away for a long time.”

She nodded, her head dropping onto his shoulder. “Thank you so much, Spencer. You saved me.” She whispered.

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m sorry about the argument we had, I was being a jerk. I just wanted to protect you, but in the end you still ended up getting hurt.” He frowned, looking down at the gravel ground.

“It’s okay, I understand. I’m sorry you had to relive all of this again, I can’t imagine how difficult that must’ve been for you.” She sighed, guilt overwhelming her.

“Hey, no. You’re safe, that’s all that matters.” He promised and she nodded against him.

Giving her hand a squeeze, he turned slightly to press a lingering kiss to her forehead.

“Let’s go home, sweetheart.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler #mgg #mgg x reader #criminal minds

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gguksgalaxy · 5 years ago

Text

Inkling | JJK

Jungkook is your brother’s boyfriend’s co-worker, they own a tattoo and piercing parlour. In other words, he’s tall, gorgeous, has his passion literally etched into his skin, looks incredibly good in a man-bun, and is semi-unattainable for you. Why? Well…you’re not entirely sure but him ditching right after a very heated make-out session sure isn’t a good sign. His extremely poor mood the next week sure isn’t either, but the only way to fix it is to face the beast head-on. Right?

›› AU: Tattoo Artist ›› Genre: Smut / Angst ›› Rating: 18+ explicit sex ›› Pairing: JJK x Reader ›› Word Count: 17.7k Warnings Include: Lots of swearing, conflict, a false accusation of cheating on a third party (it’s nothing serious please trust me), Jungkook being a dick, the death of a coat hanger, mentions of internalised homophobia, fear of coming out, and unaccepting parents. Sexual content: rough (protected) sex, piercings, heavy petting, teasing (with and without other people around), lots of tongue action, cunnilingus, fingering, dirty talk, marking, nipple play, mentions of riding, blowjobs, and mxm sex. A/N: This one is for my beloved friend @xiubaek-13 who’s stood by me and my tumblr journey for over 3 years now. Our friend anniversary was last week, the 16th of January, so it’s a little late. But I hope you still love it. Remember, you gave me this idea, so you shall face the consequences. Enjoy <3

“Like, it’s so unfair,” you groan, arm slung over your face. “He kisses so well. I’m talking toe-curling, spine-arching, breathtakingly good. He really didn’t need to decorate his tongue with a gold medal to celebrate it.” You've replayed the events of Saturday night many times since it happened. The way Jungkook’s hands had slid under your shirt. Your thighs spread over his. Kissing, grabbing, moaning. It really wasn’t fair, the way his tongue pressed into your mouth and made you cave at the very first swipe. The first subtle brush of his golden tongue piercing against your lips. How he—

“Okay, please stop detailing me on what he can do with his tongue and get to the point. If this was just about his amazing tongue skills you wouldn’t be here right now. You’d be in his bed.” Hoseok grumbles. “So?” His back is turned to you as he motions for you to continue, busy cleaning his tattoo gun after he touched up your latest piece. A colourful design on the side of your breast and ribs.

It’s one of the reasons you find yourself here. Half your chest out at 8am in Hoseok’s tattoo shop, Inkling. The other reason is being able to vent about his best friend and colleague — Jungkook — without him actually being here.

Jungkook, who had kissed you like he meant it. Fingers sinking deep into the flesh of your thighs. Whose bun had come undone from the way your fingers had slid into his hair. The ink that covers his slightly tanned skin shifting to show defined muscles. The smirk he had every time he’d looked at you — quirking up the left corner of his mouth. His stupidly skilled tongue. The golden tongue piercing that adorns it.

He’d kissed you so hungrily — devoured you — and then he’d gotten up and ran out on you. Leaving you with no proper explanation or goodbye.

“I hate to break it to you, but you’ve got twenty minutes left to tell me what happened before I go pick him up. Get on with it.” Hoseok finally turns to face you again, grabbing the cream and film to finish up your tattoo. The deep-coloured mandala designs on his elbow shift as he does so. Like all of Hoseok’s tattoos, these are traditionally styled, more simple. Yet, there’s something about every one of his pieces that is uniquely him. Like the small red flower at the hollow of his throat that shifts as he speaks. “What’d he do to you?”

You groan again, lifting your arm a little to give him better access to your side. “I’m not entirely sure really. Like...One second we’re making out and the next he gets up and pushes me off.”

Smoothing the film over your side, he speaks without losing focus. “How drunk was he?” Hoseok isn’t normally this flat in his speech. His mood, much like yours, seems off today.

“Not all that drunk, seen him way worse.” You and Jungkook had both been tipsy, at most. Neither of you made it past more than three drinks before you were all over each other. Hands on bodies. Lips on necks.

It had been a long time coming. The two of you agonisingly ogling each other from a distance for months. That is, if you can call you nearly sitting in his lap every change you get ‘distance’. Even your brother Yoongi had firmly called you out to do something about the sexual tension. Last Saturday you had. It just didn’t go as planned.

Your friend chuckles suddenly.

“What?”

“Nothing, just a thought. Keep talking.”

“No, Jung. Spit it out.” Now that he’s done, you sit up to narrow your eyes at him.

He shrugs. “Maybe you’re just a bad kisser, I don’t know.”

You gasp. “I am no such thing.”

“I mean, I can’t attest to that. Facts only.” He again motions for you to continue as he gets up to clean some things. “He pushes you off and then what?”

Something about the way that Jungkook had looked at you when he pushed you off had stuck with you. Pain, confusion. No lust, no want, not even embarrassment. “He just left.”

“What do you mean he left?” Your friend’s eyebrows contort as he pulls off his gloves. They’re black just like the walls in the small shop. “Are you sure he wasn’t just — I don’t know — not that into it?”

You scowl. “I am not that bad of a kisser Hoseok! If the tent in his jeans had been anything to go by, I’d say it’s the opposite.”

Hoseok merely rolls his eyes, dusting off his ripped jeans and sitting down at the end of the chair that you're still lounging on. He runs a hand through his vibrant red hair.

Part of you just feels sick to your stomach. Both out of embarrassment, confusion and anxiety. Jungkook, Jimin, Taehyung and you had all gone to a club together, a normal Saturday night. It’s not uncommon for you and Jungkook to get a little handsy after a few drinks. Usually though, you’d be delightfully cockblocked by your brother, Yoongi.

You get it. Jungkook doesn’t want to make out with his friend’s little sister when he’s right there. Now that he finally got free reign, this happens.

Whatever ‘this’ even means. All you’ve been able to think about is that Jungkook knew what he was doing. His mouth, his hands, his body. Everything. He played you like a damn fiddle. The moan he’d let out at the first contact of your mouth to his still echoes in your ears. Deep, guttural relief.

Hoseok interrupts your train of thoughts, “and you haven’t seen him since he walked out on your apparently amazing make-out session?”

“It’s not like I ever see him on Sundays. Shop’s closed and Yoongi and I usually have a stay-in day.”

“Has he called?” Hoseok asks, quirking one dark eyebrow.

“No?”

“Texted?”

“Nope.”

He sighs, ruffling his own hair, foot tapping on the grey tiles of the floor. “Have you tried texting him? Calling him?” The accusatory tone in his voice twists your gut as you give him a sheepish grimace. “Y/N!”

“What?!” You look away, eyes focusing on anything but him. The off-white desks, Jungkook’s detailed artwork displayed on the opposite wall. The red of the door that leads into the back, or maybe the piercing display.

The chair creaks when Hoseok gets up. “I just thought that, since you’re a girl, you’d have a bit more sense when it comes to shit like this. But you and Yoongi really are one and the same.”

“Excuse me?” you spit, turning back to face him as you grab for your shirt to cover yourself up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Both of you are dense as fuck. You can’t always wait for the other person to act first.” The sharp tinge in Hoseok‘s voice hints at something else. Something unrelated to you and Jungkook. It must be related to your brother. After all, they’d been in a relationship for a little over half a year now. A rocky one. Something must’ve happened between them over the weekend. “Just,” he stops, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. “Jungkook will be here today, just ask hi—“

The bell that sounds as the door open drown out the sound of Hoseok’s playlist. It brings with it the sound of pouring rain. The tattoo artist immediately gets up to check. The shop isn’t open yet.

“Kook?!” Hoseok exclaims. “I told you I was coming to pick you up. You’re going to get sick like this. What were you thinking?” Concern laces his voice as he rushes over to his friend who’s still hidden from your view behind the velvet grey curtain. Hoseok lets out a few curses, caring personality getting the better of him. Always a listening ear, always ready to help. Sometimes, maybe a little too concerned. Jungkook seems to agree.

“I can take care of myself,” the younger grumbles. He trudges inside, entering the area where you’re currently sitting. Water is dripping down his leather jacket and black baseball cap onto the tile floor. He’s effectively soaked to the bone. Black jeans plastered to his thighs more than usual.

A sense of dread fills your veins when his eyes land on your still half-naked chest. Yes, Jungkook has seen you topless before. To pierce your nipple. Not randomly in the middle of his shop.

His dark gaze flickers between you and Hoseok. Jaw clenched tight, tongue pushing his cheek. “I have a change of clothes in the back.” His voice is nothing short of a sneer, as he drops his backpack by his station and walks off without another word.

“Yikes,” Hoseok whispers. “Are you sure you told me the entire story?”

You shoot him a glare. “Shut up before he fucking hears you. And call my brother,” you mumble, pulling your shirt over your head, “He’s not going to call you first. We both know that.”

With your shirt back on you feel a little more comfortable. But not comfortable enough to immediately go confront Jungkook.

“What did you two fight about anyway?” you question the redhead who’s currently bent over the laptop by the front desk.

Hoseok doesn’t look up, brown eyes lit by the screen. “Nothing you should be concerned about. You just worry about mister tongue medal. I can fix my own relationship problems.” The comment stings. Neither Hoseok nor Yoongi have ever been particularly open about their relationship. Even though you’re close with both.

“That was unnecessary.”

“I’m sorry.” He leans his head down. “Having all three of you in bad moods is just not doing any good for my own.” The tension in his body is evident as he straightens up. He slides a black folder your way. “How about you go make inventory from today’s shipment. I’ll try and talk to him during morning appointments.”

Inventory, great. Not the kind of work you thought you’d be doing when you offered to help them around the place. You want to protest, but he cuts you off.

“Listen, I know that you hate doing inventory. I know you don’t want to be here at all right now, but you promised to cover Tae’s position until we found someone else.” He’s right, you had offered to do that. In return for a tattoo, you would work their front desk whenever you have time between school and your actual, paying job. The desk was previously manned by Jungkook’s best friend Taehyung. He now works at an art gallery. A job he’s always dreamed of. “It’s not my fault you decided to make out with him,” Hoseok states. “Okay? Now go.”

“I know, I’m going.”

There’s no way for you to miss Jungkook as you round the corner. Tanned skin and tattoos shift as he shakes his wet hair. The crow and moon tattoo on his upper back stand out starkly. Dark, like most of his tattoos. You’ve seen it before, it’s always peeking up from the collar of his shirt. The floral pattern that peeks up from the waistband of his jeans is new to you though. It curves over his lower back and hips. You wonder how deep it goes.

The fabric of his clean shirt drapes down and hides everything from your view. It snaps you out of your thoughts quickly enough for you to slip into the storage room quickly enough before he spots you.

Your gut wrenches with nerves. Avoidance, great. Probably not the best way to solve this. Certainly not the fastest. But then again, talking this out while Hoseok is right there is inconsiderate. It’ll have to wait.

You’ll just spend the rest of your morning thinking about nothing else but Jungkook. The anger in his eyes a few minutes ago, the feeling of his tongue, and shipments. Fun.

Your butt hits the floor as you open the folder. The room is dusty, even with the lights on you struggle to read Hoseok’s jagged handwriting. For someone who draws so well you’d expect something at least semi-legible. Regardless, you can’t focus to begin with.

You and Jungkook have been running in circles ever since that one time when he pierced your nipple. Cliché, but it is what it is. You remember the risky touches and how turned on you’d been. Until he actually pierced you. That had been the most painful thing you ever experienced.

It’s been over a year since Jimin, Yoongi’s coworker, introduced the two of you to Hoseok and Jungkook. Now, everyone in your close circle of friends knows that there’s a lot of unresolved sexual tension between you and the youngest. Sadly, neither of you have acted on it. That’s as much your own fault as it is Jungkook’s. Not to speak of the fact that you’ve been interested in him ever since you first laid eyes on him. An entire year, and you did nothing about it.

In that time, Jimin started dating Taehyung. The guy who worked Inkling’s front desk. And your brother has started dating Hoseok. Something Yoongi had only recently told Jungkook about.

That had been a bit of an unfortunate situation. As much as you had assured Yoongi that Jungkook would not bat an eye if he came out to him, he just kept pushing it off. The way your parents had treated him when he told them he was gay made a deep impact on him. It’s a wound you don’t think will ever truly heal. Your parents’ harsh reaction was the reason he moved out at the young age of sixteen. That same reason caused you to show up at his doorstep a few years later. To live with him. Support him.

You and Yoongi have always been close. It’s why he knows about your crush on Jungkook. It’s why you’ve kept Yoongi’s secret from everyone for so long. He’d been especially on guard when he thought Jungkook had already found out a few weeks ago. Apparently Jungkook had suspected something, asked Taehyung about it, who told Jimin, who came to Yoongi. Your brother had then turned into a hysterical mess.

That situation is over now. And somehow you’ve magically created another one out of thin air. You think about this as you count the packages of dyes, gloves, masks, and other various things you’ve no clue what they’re used for. It’s just a little tricky to match the official descriptions to Jungkook’s incoherent labels and abbreviations. Boxes labeled guns, pricklers, and clamps most certainly weren’t what you were looking for. Those are all related to Jungkook’s piercing practice.

When Hoseok and Jungkook set up the shop three years ago it had taken the younger an entirety of a year to convince his friend to let him start piercing. Hoseok’s slightly irrational fear of piercings made a poor argument. Especially since tattooing involves a needle. Something about the puncturing of skin or whatever. Jungkook had eventually won.

Your phone rings, pulling you out of your thoughts. “What the...” you mutter as you see Taehyung’s name pop up on the screen. Taehyung never calls you. The two of you don’t even talk outside of the group.

Picking up, you lean against one of the shelves. “Hey Tae, everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” There’s a loud yawn on the other end followed by the unmistakable sound of a car door closing. He must be about to get into work. “I’m calling about Jungkook.”

Heart rate picking up, you await his following words.

“I’m not sure what exactly happened, but you probably know more about it than I do.” His voice trails off, faintly lined with anger.

“Is this about Saturday?” you ask, hoping for a no.

Taehyung is silent for a few beats, “I mean, I thought the two of you finally fucked after we couldn’t find you two. Jimin and I scouted the entire place, you were nowhere to be found. He’s called you three times since, and you haven’t gotten back to him. What happened?”

You mentally curse yourself for not calling Jimin back. He’d be way easier to talk to than an aggravated Taehyung.

“I'll rephrase my question,” he says upon your lack of answer. “Yesterday Jungkook came to ours at eight in the morning. He was really fucking distraught and I want to know if you have anything to do with it?”

“Tae...” you hesitate, unsure of what to tell him. The tone of his voice isn’t making it easy for you to choose your words. You know he has a temper. He won’t just forgive you if you hurt Jungkook, he’d do anything to protect him.

“Don’t ‘Tae’ me, you’re not Jimin. It doesn’t work when you do it. You can’t blame me for looking out for Jungkook when he was so upset.”

You really do understand where he’s coming from. Before he and Jimin had gotten steady enough to move in together, Taehyung had been crashing on Jungkook and Hoseok’s couch for months after a series of complicated events. The details had been kept from you, but it involved Taehyung severing ties with a gang he’d been involved in. It hadn’t gone as planned, and Jungkook had to make sure he would get back up on both feet. He made sure he had a roof over his head and food to eat. The entire ordeal had completely passed you by until Jungkook mentioned it to you when he was drunk on your couch one night a few weeks ago.

“Y/N?” he pushes

“I know, I know. Just give me the space to fix this, okay? I have as much of an idea as to what’s going on as you do.” You rub your eyes, trying to stave off the nerves. “I’ll talk to him today, I promise.”

The other’s car engine revs in the background. “Did you know he was upset?”

You bite your lip. “Sort of.”

“And you didn’t think to call him?”

“I’m sorry, okay?”

“I’m not the one you should be apologising to.” The way the words fall from his lips make tears appear in the corners of your eyes. What if Taehyung was right? What if you had read all the signs wrong? What if Jungkook didn’t like you? Had you messed up? Pushed him too far? “I’ve known Jungkook since we were kids. He puts up a strong front and you know it. He manages to scare off enough people by merely looking at them. But we’re all aware that he doesn’t look at you the same way. He’s more sensitive than he lets on.” Taehyung’s voice remains neutral, but his words still sting.

You find yourself sliding down the shelves and onto the floor. Fighting the tears increasingly getting harder as Taehyung’s words cause your mind to reach for places that it shouldn’t. Jungkook is more than just a hot guy who wears a manbun and has too many piercings for you to count. He’s more than a guy you want to fuck. You like him, as a person.

“Just let me talk to him, okay? I haven’t had a chance yet.” There’s not much else to tell him. You know that he’s not going to take your side. If you really hurt Jungkook you wouldn’t forgive yourself either. “I never intended to upset him.” The thought that you might’ve pushed Jungkook too far feels wholly irrational, but you can’t get it out of your head anymore.

Taehyung’s silence threatens to make your thoughts spiral again. When he speaks you’re almost relieved. “To be honest, I don’t want to turn this into a huge thing before my ten hour shift.” Your heart sinks. “I’ve got to go, let me know how it goes.”

He hangs up without another word, leaving you with guilt settling heavily in your stomach. This entire situation is messed up. You vividly remember Jungkook pulling you in, capturing your mouth with his. He’s the one who shifted you into his lap, who made you his. It can’t just have been your imagination. Maybe this wasn’t even related to you.

You just hope that whatever it is that caused him to react this way, is something you can fix. An apology should be the start. Taehyung was right.

A knock on the door startles you. “Are you alive?” Hoseok calls, opening the door. He frowns upon seeing your slouched form on the floor. Phone lying between your legs. “You know that if you want to take a break, you can just come up to the front, right?”

You shake your head. “Taehyung called.”

Hoseok helps you up, brushing some dust off the back of your shirt. “Everything okay?”

“Ha, no.” You let out a dry chuckle that’s merely there to cover up your obvious nerves. “Taehyung seemed pretty angry.”

“Eh, he always does. He’s just overprotective of Jungkook, Jimin’s not gonna let him actually rip you a new one. Don’t worry, it’ll be okay.” Hoseok speaks gently as he grabs the binder off the floor. “Did you finish?”

You nod. “Just unsure of where everything goes.” There’s still a few open boxes in the back.

“That’s okay. I’ll put them into place later.”

“Hobi?” you ask as he opens the door.

He hums an affirmative.

“What if Jungkook didn’t want to kiss me?”

There’s a brief silence, Hoseok turning around with the most confused look on his face as he observes you. “I’m sorry but what did Taehyung say to you? I swear that I have no idea what’s going on but I can assure you that Jungkook not wanting you is the least of your problems.” He lets out a laugh.

“Okay,” you mumble, a little hurt that he’s laughing at it. But he’s probably right. Jungkook’s lingering touches, his purposeful stares, that little thing he does with his tongue piercing that drives you insane. “Did you call my brother yet?”

Hoseok nods, moving to his messy station. “He’s supposed to bring over lunch. All’s good, I promise.” He ruffles your hair and you swat at his arm. Maybe he’s getting a little too comfortable around you. He might be dating your brother, but that doesn’t give him the right to do that. Only Yoongi is allowed to ruffle your hair. Sometimes.

Back in the front area, Jungkook is finishing up a tattoo on someone’s leg. The man’s lying on his stomach, seemingly quiet. Just how you know Jungkook prefers his sessions. He doesn’t talk much when he’s working, finds it easier to concentrate this way. For a moment you let yourself stare. Eyes gliding over the dip in his back and his messy hair. The way it’s pushed back shows off his eyebrow piercing.

Many have claimed him to be intimidating. If it isn’t for the multitude of piercings in his face and ears, then it’d be the way his arms and shoulders are covered in ink. Or his facial expressions. There’s something about the way his brows furrow and his jaw sets just right, that tends to make the sixteen year old girls who come to get their belly buttons pierced regret their decisions. You on the other hand, can’t get enough of him like this.

Where Jungkook is all black — tattoos, clothes and hair — Hoseok is brighter. The other’s red hair and deep-coloured tattoos speak for his personality. He’s more outgoing, more open. And unfortunately, more obnoxious at times. Right now you get a good look at the fox tattoo that covers his left thigh. It peaks out through one of the arguably too big holes in his jeans. He definitely picked them out on purpose.

When you turn back to look at Jungkook, your eyes meet his and you’re not prepared. A lump forms in your throat as his eyes seem stone cold. There’s no smirk, no flirtatious glint. Nothing but what could only be described as anger. “What?” he asks, voice nearly a sneer.

You startle at the harshness, mumbling a quiet ‘nothing’ before deciding to just go to the front desk.

The man leaves before your lunch arrives, and at this point you really are starting to get hungry. Jungkook yet again disappears without a word, probably to the lightbox to draw something. Or he’s smoking a cigarette out back. A nasty, nervous habit of his.

Hoseok’s busy doing work on his laptop, when finally, your lunch arrives. It’s just not Yoongi, but Jimin who’s carrying it inside.

“Hey, a little help would be welcome,” Jimin groans as he pushes open the door with his shoulder. Both you and Hoseok scramble up to help before he spills the coffee all over the floor. “Thanks. Yoongi got stuck doing God knows what, so I’m bringing food in his name.” He smiles, lifting your mood as easily as ever. No matter what’s going on, Jimin’s presence is always soothing and bright.

Yoongi had first met the blonde when he started dishwashing at a local restaurant. Now both him and Jimin are leading staff and close friends.

Jimin looks around the shop. “Where’s Kook?”

You suck in your cheek, meeting Jimin’s suspicious gaze. “He’s holed up in the back.”

Jimin’s eyes shift from you to Hoseok, contemplating speaking up.

“You can say it,” you say blandly, “Hoseok knows.”

“Did you talk to him yet?” he whisper-yells. “You’re so lucky I didn’t tell on your ass to Tae. But the next time you ditch me and ignore my calls I will not hesitate to kick your ass myself.”

“What?”

Jimin’s face changes into a glance you know all too well. That specific one which says; are you fucking kidding me? “Do you really think that I didn’t see you and Mr. I don’t wanna fuck Yoongi’s sister, sucking face in the corner?” Your cheeks heat up. “I mean, we all knew he was lying. But that’s not the point.” Jimin presses a finger in your chest. “My point is that the next time the two of you leave to exchange something more than saliva, at least send me a text.” Jimin’s tone is highly accusatory, but he doesn’t seem upset. That’s probably just because he doesn’t know what’s going on. His hand goes into one of the bags, fishing out a pale muffin for himself to eat.

Hoseok coughs, setting his decaf latte back on the desk. “I hate to break it to you Jimin, but that’s not the actual story.”

You want to slap him for exposing you like that. Reaching behind the counter you turn the music up so you can tell Jimin who’s waiting with wide eyes. “Jungkook and I didn’t go home together,” you confess.

“Please don’t tell me you fucked in the ba—“

“JIMIN!” You shove him lightly. “Just — no, okay? We made out and he bolted on me,” you whisper.

Jimin cocks an eyebrow. “That would...explain a lot but also nothing at the same time. Jungkook was pretty out of it yesterday. I mean, he gets like that from time to time, but still. My bet was on the sex being bad. Or like — I don’t know — you saying his dick was small.”

“Okay, okay! We get it!” you hush.

“Get what?” Jungkook’s voice suddenly sounds from behind you.

You still, stopping yourself from immediately turning around and meeting his probably cold eyes. Part of you want to say something, anything. But you can’t find the words. Especially when he comes close enough for you to feel the heat of his body radiate to your back. His chest grazes your shoulders as he grabs his drink and food from the desk.

“She and Yoongi had a falling out this morning,” Hoseok says calmly, the saviour of your day. “Nothing big.”

Jimin smiles at Jungkook, but it’s not returned. “Hot chocolate, no whip, one shot of espresso.”

Nothing more than a barely-audible thanks follows. He runs his fingers through his fringe, hair now pulled up in a bun again, before he leaves to continue whatever he was doing.

“Are you really that bad at kissing?” Jimin whispers, making you shove him again.

“Shut up, not you too. This is serious, keep your nosy ass out of it.”

Jimin gasps in offense. “You better remember who brings you lunch.” You roll your eyes. “Also, can I talk to you guys about Tae’s birthday present?”

You hoist yourself onto the desk, nodding as you finally bite into your own muffin.

“Of course, it’s not like any of us know what to get him,” Hoseok adds.

Jimin sighs a little. “He keeps saying that he doesn’t want anything. But I know that isn’t true. It’s just that the one thing he really wants is expensive and I can’t afford it on my own.” The slight tremble to his voice gives him away. He loves Taehyung, would do anything for him. You know that Hoseok would be here to help, so are you. “He has a tattoo, he wants to get it covered up. But Jungkook’s told him that he has to get it laser-treated first because it's pretty big and dark. I looked it up and it’s not cheap. I just don’t want you guys to think that I’m taking advantage of you or something. I just...”

Hoseok pipes up before Jimin can even properly finish. “I’m sure that if we all chip in it’ll be good. Plus, Jungkook and I would totally do the cover-up for free. It’s gonna hurt, but it’ll be worth it. You agree, Y/N?”

You nod. You've never seen Taehyung's tattoo, and you know Jimin's not going to go into details, but you understand him wanting to get rid of it. It's his last tie to his past. “Yeah, I’ll chip in. Just send us how much it is and we’ll figure it out Jimin.”

Jimin just about bursts at the seams from happiness. He hugs both of you so tight, whispering a dozen thank you’s as he does. “It’ll mean so much to him!” His eyes flicker to the clock. “By the way, before I go. Hoseok, have you and Yoongi finally told Jungkook about the two of you fucking and all?”

Hoseok grimaces. “We’re dating, Jimin. Stop putting it like that.”

“Potato, potato.”

“We didn’t tell him,” Hoseok confesses.

“What?” You and Jimin say at the same time.

Hoseok sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “Yoongi got cold feet. Again.”

Jimin is silent, brows furrowing before his lips part in realisation. “Oh...OH!” He almost starts laughing. “I know what’s going on here. I see, I see.”

You frown at him, looking at Hoseok for an answer but he seems equally confused.

“Girl, you gotta talk to Jungkook. This? It’s all a huge misunderstanding. Just talk to him, you’ll be fine. Trust me.” The giggle in his voice makes you a little angry. He could just tell you, but he’s halfway out the door before you even get the chance to ask. “Also, you,” he says pointing at Hoseok, “make sure you tell Jungkook about you and Yoongi before he finds out like me and Tae. Meaning with you three knuckles deep in Yoongi’s ass.”

“Okay!” Hoseok calls, somewhat flustered as he gets up. “You’ve said enough for today, don’t you have customers to yell at?”

Jimin laughs, giving you one more glance. “If you and you-know-who end up having some r-rated sessions, please use protection.”

“OUT!” you and Hoseok yell in unison, causing Jimin to quickly slip away before you can properly shove him out the door yourself.

Jimin really seemed to be one step ahead of you, and you hate it. Though his gut was usually right so maybe you should trust him that it’ll all be okay. Hoseok said the same thing after all.

The rest of your day goes by fairly smoothly. A few walk-ins but nothing special. Jungkook quietly works with his back to you, and Hoseok does his best to start some sort of conversation. It dead-ends each time.

When Hoseok is getting ready to leave, your nerves feel like they’re going to burst from your body. Literally. You don’t know if you can do this. Talk to Jungkook. He’s been stone cold the entire day, not a single word where it wasn’t absolutely necessary. You’ve never seen him like this, even Hoseok started to become a victim of his wrath. Jungkook started snapping at him too, causing the elder to just leave him be after a while.

“Listen,” Hoseok says, “I’m going to go, here’s my key in case you need it. Talk to him. Tell me how it goes.”

You whine. “Hobi...”

“No, you’re doing this. I refuse to work with him like this for another fucking second. Just talk. It’s probably nothing.” His voice is stern, and he opens the door to leave. “If it really goes south you can yell at me later. But you have to try.” he goes, leaving you behind in the empty shop unknowingly of what to do.

It can’t be that bad, right? Your hands tremble as you try to take a deep breath. What are you so afraid of? Jungkook rejecting you? Maybe...It would hurt. Everyone would be surprised, that’s for sure. There’s been something oddly specific about how he treats you, looks at you. Jimin’s often referred to it as ‘looking at each other as if you were going to fuck right then and there’.

You take another deep breath. The only way to face the beast is head-on right? Jungkook isn’t gonna hurt you. Worst he could do is yell at you. You can handle that. Right?

With shaking legs you walk into the back, thoughts still running rampant. He’s not at his station. The black chair empty, grey desk neatly cleaned with the dyes organised by colour. Hoseok could take from that.

“Why are you still here?” Jungkook’s voice startles you.

A shiver runs down your spine, the deep drawl echoing in your mind. “I want to talk.” Your voice wavers slightly.

He gives you no chance to face him, scoffing as he walks past you. Not even a glance in your direction. He gathers his pencils that have rolled onto the floor, placing them neatly back on the desk. The black koi fish tattoo on his right shifts as he does. It matches the white one on the left. Yin and Yang, separated. His movements are rough, and he’s rushing through it. Trying to get away.

“Well?” he questions. “Are you going to talk or not?”

The harshness in his voice has you stunned for a moment. “I-I...Jungkook I’m really sorry if I did anything to upset you. I’m not sure what’s going through your mind but, if this is because you didn’t want to kiss me the—“

Jungkook’s hand make a harsh sound as they connect with the surface of the desk. “Is this a game to you?” He looks at you — glares. Angers rolls off his shoulders that are coiled tight

“What?”

“You heard me,” he all but growls. “Do you think this is a joke?” Jungkook looks away, eyes closing with a deep, barely-controlled breath. It shudders through him.

Your hands are clenched tightly, they ache to touch him. To smooth down over the expanse of his back in an attempt to comfort him. “If I thought this was funny I wouldn’t be here trying to talk to you.”

“Fuck.” The words fall from his lips right before his teeth sink into them. His fingers squeak over the desk’s surface. When he looks up at you, you expect to see the anger. The disgust. However, you don’t expect it to be in the shape of tears glistening in his eyes as he struggles to even look at you for more than a few seconds. “Stop being like this, okay? We both know that what we did was wrong. It’s eating me alive and you know what — I can’t deal with it any longer.” Jungkook reaches for his bag, slinging it over his shoulder with so much force it collides with his back. Yet, you don’t miss the tremble in his other hand. “I’m giving you one day to tell him. Otherwise I’ll do it myself.”

You frown, quickly following him towards the front. “Is this about Yoongi?”

Jungkook stops in his tracks, causing you to almost bump into him. “Yoongi?” He’s seething with anger. It’s hot, burning your skin and making your throat constrict. “I’m talking about us nearly fucking while you’re obviously in a relationship with Hoseok.”

Silence. Minutes seem to tick by as you take in his words. “What?”

A last time, he turns. The look he gives you is nothing short of pure, unfiltered disgust. “You know what? I’m so done with you.” He shakes his head. “You know I like you, everyone knows it. And we were both wrong here. But I can’t cope with the fact that I had my best friend’s girlfriend moaning in my lap two nights ago.” Jungkook’s words are painfully sharp, but they don’t seem to only affect you. He’s hurting himself unnecessarily. “If he hates me after this that’s fine, but someone has to tell him.”

“Kook,” you try, tears brimming your own eyes. But he doesn’t hear you.

“It’s bad enough that everyone seemed to know about you two except for me. And if you were trying to protect me then I can try to understand, but I can see the signs you know? I’m not fucking blind. Hoseok’s always going home with you. He spends three nights a week at your apartment at the very least. And even around here the two of you have gotten disgustingly close. Hell, Y/N, you were half naked in here with him before business hours as if it’s the most normal thing. I don’t even want to entertain the idea of the two of you fucking in here. This isn’t r—“

“STOP!” you yell, hands coming up to cover your ears. “Just, stop!”

Jungkook’s mouth snaps shut as he stares at you. Your mind is going a hundred miles an hour. He thinks you and Hoseok are together. Jungkook thinks that you and Hoseok are dating, because Yoongi never told him that he's the one dating Hoseok. That it’s his bed Hoseok is sleeping it. Yoongi never even told him that he’s into guys. Jungkook has no reason to entertain the idea of you not being the reason that Hoseok was over at your apartment. He went with the logical option. That you and Hoseok are an item.

“It’s...”

You want to tell him. It’d be an easy way out to tell him Yoongi is dating Hoseok. That Hoseok wasn't sleeping in your bed. But you can’t do that to your brother. You can’t out him, it’s wrong. The only chance you can take is hoping Jungkook will believe your word.

“I’m not dating Hoseok,” you say as calmly as you can.

He scoffs, loud. Nostrils flaring as he reaches for the door handle.

Fingers circling around his other arm, you stop him. Causing him to quickly shrug you off as if you’d burnt him.

“Don’t fucking touch me. It’s bad enough we did this. I don’t need you lying to me about it.”

You shake your head, almost reaching out for him again in your panic. “Just...hear me out. If you really like me as much as you say. If you believe that I like you too. Hear me out.” There’s one other way out of this. One other person he would believe. “Please Jungkook?”

Jungkook’s eyes meet yours. He wavers. Caves. “Fine.”

Relief floods your veins, and you sink back against the counter. “Okay, I’m going to call Hoseok.” You grab your phone from your pocket, fingers sliding over the screen shakily. “Just—“

“Absolutely fucking not.”

“HEY!” you call, causing him to startle. “You’re sitting your fucking ass down. It’s not my fault that you’re not willing to believe me and decided to get worked up over some imaginary scenario.” Your voice is barely a growl but it pushes him enough to finally get his hand off the doorknob. “Sit. The fuck. Down.”

He swallows thickly, and your chest heaves with anger. To your surprise, he actually slumps down onto the couch without another word.

“I’m gonna call Hobi, and you’re gonna keep your mouth shut until I’m finished.” No words come from him, but the scowl on his face says enough. Hoseok’s picture pops up with you dial him, and you take the time to steady yourself. This has to work.

“Did you two finally figure out your bullshit?” Hoseok asks the second he picks up.

The nerve. “You gotta help me out here.” You hold the phone steady, putting him on speaker as you look straight at the man across from you while speaking. “Do you remember when I explicitly told you this morning — in all glorious details — about Jungkook and I making out?”

There’s a clear shift in Jungkook’s expression. Eyebrows raising ever so slightly. His red bitten lips parting.

“Yes — Wait,” Hoseok stumbles. “Am I on speaker? Why am I on speaker? I want no part in this!”

“Hobi!” He needs to listen to you and help. “Please just tell your friend that you and I are not fucking.”

The first sound that comes from the other end of the line is a loud snort. Followed by hysterical laughter. “Oh. My. God.” This situation isn't funny to you nor Jungkook, but you suppose that Hoseok comes across very authentic like this. One day you’ll probably laugh about this too. “Jungkook, sweetheart,” he laughs. “You really gone and cockblocked yourself because you thought I was dating her?”

Jungkook's eyes are now wide with confusion, body sunk deeply into the leather couch as his gaze is unfocused. “You’re...not?”

“No offense to Y/N,” Hoseok says with laughter still ringing his voice, “but absolutely not.”

“None taken,” you state dryly, “thank you.”

Your eyes follow Jungkook as he stands up slowly, leaving his bag on the couch. His tongue presses into his cheek, running under his top lip where you know he hides one of his many piercings. The change in his body language is evident, and you shiver as he looks at you.

Hoseok sighs dramatically. “No problem. I’m getting used to saving your guys’ day. Now can you two please fuck out your frustrations so that I can work and live in peace. Use protection. Cheers!”

The line ends before you can say another word to him. When you finally glance up at Jungkook again, he’s closer than you thought.

He stands barely a foot away, eyes curiously meeting yours. Scanning your face for any type of reaction, waiting. His hands hang limp by his side, shoulder no longer bunched but...Something about him is still taut. “You’re not dating Hoseok?” he asks, voice unexpectedly deep.

“No,” you breathe softly, unable to look away from him. From this angle you can see his eyebrow piercing where it hides under his fringe. You can see his eyes darken too.

“You’re single?” His tongue darts out to wet his lips, a quick flash of gold.

You swallow thickly. “Yes.”

Jungkook steps that much closer, toes bumping yours as he lowers his face. His breathing is heavy, chest almost brushing yours as he corners you against the desk. “And I can have you?”

“All yours.”

Everything is forgotten from there. Jungkook’s hands fly up to cup your face, tilting you up so he can capture your mouth with his. You groan, deeply relieved at the contact. Jungkook has no reservations. No, within seconds you find yourself with one of his thighs snugly between yours and his tongue pushing past your lips.

Fuck. The feeling of his piercing pressing against your tongue still takes you by surprise. You shiver with excitement. Your fingers grapple for purchase at his shoulders.

Jungkook moans, a sound that’s silenced by you kissing him back. It’s messy, you can feel his heart hammer in his chest and yours is no different. As he explores your mouth with his tongue, your fingers tug his shirt from his jeans. You graze the warm skin of his waist and back.

As his hands grab your hips possessively, your toes curl. There’s no time to breathe. All you can manage is a pathetic whimper when Jungkook bites down on your lip and runs his tongue across it. Kissing him is oddly foreign, in the most delicious way.

Diving in again, Jungkook grants you more leverage to kiss him back. One of your hands slide into his hair, reaching on your tiptoes to do so. There’s a brief smile from him. Followed by him hoisting you up on the counter without breaking the kiss. No, you’re too busy tracing the piece of jewellery in his mouth as it clacks against your teeth.

It’s wet. Sloppy. And you’re certain that it’s noisy. But all you can hear right now is the rushing of your heart and the rough sounds that come from him. He parts your thighs, pressing himself right up against your centre and — fuck. It’s just right, the way he presses the seam of your jeans into you.

Your mouth falls from him, unable to stave off your air for any longer. Jungkook seems unfazed, tongue tracing your bottom lip to break the string of saliva that connected you. “Kook,” you breathe heavily.

He smirks, nosing along your cheekbone as your nails digging into his back. Tantalised, you hold your breath. Expecting the harsh graze of his teeth just below your jaw. You know it’ll mark, especially when he presses his lips over the same sport and suckles at it until you're shaking in his hold.

By now his hands have slipped under your shirt, fingers digging into your bare waist. His fingertips are rough, like everything about him but his lips. They’re soft and you hate it. He shouldn’t be allowed to kiss you like this.

Still, you let him kiss back up to your lips. You moan into him. The way he passes any of the kisses and hesitation. He licks into your mouth like you’ve been doing this for ages. Tongue gliding along yours, making you want more. You will need it, when he parts. Ache for his mouth again as you pull him unimaginably closer.

A moan falls from both of you as you grind down, and somehow it pulls you back to reality. The reality where you’re sitting on the front desk of the shop. Right by the windows. Where everyone can see.

The reality where Jungkook yelled at you mere minutes ago.

“Jungkook,” you whisper against his mouth. A shiver rakes through your body when he moves to kiss your neck. “Jungkook, stop.”

Those words stop him immediately. He looks up. “Everything okay?” His chest rises and falls against yours.

You nod, placing your hands firmly on his chest. The accidental brush of your palm against one of his piercing causes his breath to hitch. “Just,” you eyes flicker between where he stands between your legs and the large, open windows, “maybe we shouldn’t...you know?”

Jungkook’s hands smooth down your arms, sending goosebumps in his wake. “This is not the part where I tell you we can go to the back. Is it?”

“No,” you whisper.

When his hands fall from your body, you feel cold, empty. You reach for him, grabbing him by the wrist. “Hey, I want this. But maybe we need to let everything cool down a little.”

He looks at you over his shoulder, lips swollen, hair a mess. “Yeah.” His voice is firm, paired with a deep sigh. “Yeah, I’m sorry. For getting so mad at you, I should’ve asked before making assumptions.”

A smile tugs at your lips. You hop off the counter, leaning up to press your lips against his. “It’s alright. No hard feelings.” saying that, you feel relieved from all the tension. Knowing that Jungkook wants you — likes you — makes your stomach flutter.

“Can I get a ride?” Jungkook grimaces at the pouring rain. “I don’t want to get soaked again.”

“Yeah of course, silly.”

To be honest, it was a futile attempt. Both of you don’t make it to the car with a single dry inch on your body. You just hope it’s not going to ruin your seats, that’d be an expensive joke.

Jungkook coughs when you start the engine, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. You turn to give him a look, but there’s no way for you to miss the obvious erection he's sporting.

“Are you really hard right now?”

“I’m still hard, for your information.” He groans, letting his head fall back. “It’ll go away.” The smile that stretches over his lips it too telling. “Or you can help me.” It’s barely a mumble but you can catch it.

“Jungkook!” you spit.

“I know, I know.”

There’s a calm mood in your apartment, Yoongi’s music softly emanating from his room next to yours. Not a single fibre in your body wants to have this conversation with him. Not again. But you have to. Even if it’s for the fact that you need to let him know he doesn’t have to lie to you about these things. That you’re not disappointed in him.

“Hey, you’re home late. I was starting to get worried about you.” Yoongi appears from his room, already dressed in black sweats and an oversized grey sweater. “Everything okay?”

You want to nod, but choose not to. “Can we talk?”

He freezes up, fingers clenching into fists. “Why?”

Because you lied to me. Because you didn’t tell Jungkook and it almost ruined my chances with him as a result. “Just please sit, so we can talk. I promise I’m not mad at you, Yoon.” The nickname seems to be enough incentive for him to nod and take a hesitant seat at your small dining table.

You sit across from him, chest heavy and uncertain of whether this is the right moment to do this. He nervously traces the pattern of the worn down, brown table, his sleeve tattoo peeking out as he does.

“Yoongi, why did you lie to me about coming out to Jungkook?”

Abruptly, he stills. “Did Hobi tell you?”

“How I found out doesn’t matter right now okay. I just want to know why you weren’t honest about it with me.” You watch your older brother as he avoids your gaze. He sinks back into his chair and purses his lips.

Part of you feels like hugging him, telling him it’s okay. But it’s not. Not really. Your brother has been through so much, and you understand this is hard for him. That your parents basically casting him out is why he is so afraid that everybody will reject him. But logically he should know that Jungkook won’t care that he’s gay. Taehyung is, and they’ve been friends for almost their entire lives. Hoseok and Jimin as bi. Jungkook might be the straightest guy you know, but that doesn’t say much.

“Yoongi, I’m not mad at you. You can be honest with me, I want to help.”

“I’m scared,” he says, very matter-of-factly. “I’m scared. That’s it. I don’t have any other real excuse.”

“That’s not an excuse, Yoongi. It’s a legitimate reason for not telling him, regardless of how often Hoseok and I have told you there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Yoongi shakes his head, black hair falling into his eyes. Still, he avoids your gaze. “I was scared that you’d be disappointed. That’s why I haven’t told you.”

“Yoongi...” Your heart aches for him. Even through this, your brother has always been the bravest person you know. He’s built what he has from nothing. He was merely sixteen when he moved out, barely had a degree. You were just eighteen when you showed up on his doorstep unannounced with a suitcase and a request to move in with him. He’d fought so hard to make ends meet for both of you until you’d found a job. Yoongi’s always fought for you. You just wish he’d fight for himself too. “I would never be disappointed with you. Ever.”

He finally looks at you, tears showing at the corners of his eyes. They shine regardless, as he look at you as if you’re his only lifeline. “Don’t you want me to tell him?”

You take Yoongi’s hand from where it lies limply on the table. The small sun tattoo stands out against the bare skin of his wrist. It matches the moon on yours.

Rubbing you finger over his tattoo, you speak to him softly: “I do want you to tell him, but not for me. Or for Hoseok. I want you to tell him for yourself. Once you’ve told him I think you will feel much better. You and Hobi won’t have to hide anymore, and you’ll all be able to be comfortable around each other.” You squeeze his hand. “It’ll give you strength, Yoongi. Telling people instead of letting them find out.”

A tear slips from his eyes, and you hold your breath awaiting his answer. This is why you’ve always looked up to Yoongi. He’s not afraid to show his emotions to those he trusts, even if he trusts a very small number of people. Yoongi is the one who showed you that it’s okay to not be okay, hence the moon tattoo on your own wrist. He has the sun, to signify that you’re the brightness in his days. Or well, that’s how he said it.

“Will you go with me?” he asks. “To tell him?”

It might not be the greatest idea, especially since you and Jungkook are in whatever situation you are in now. But also because this is technically not something that concerns you. If he wants you to go, you’ll go, but there’s a better choice. “I think you should ask Hoseok. That way you can kill two birds with one stone.”

“You really think so?”

You nod.

He takes a deep breath, grabbing your hand and squeezing it in return. “Thank you. For always being here to remind me of how stupid I am.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t put it like that,” you chuckle.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “You were thinking it.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“Am not!”

“Are too, Yoongi. It’s a bad habit.”

“It’s a bad habit,” he mocks with a scrunched up face. “Whatever, I’ll call Hoseok tonight.”

You smile. “Promise?”

“On one condition.”

With both eyebrows raised you await his condition that will most likely make you want to strangle him. You know your brother. His requests are never to make you comfortable. If anything he’s relentlessly able to tease you just enough to make you want to murder him, but not enough to actually justify it. A skill to behold.

“Please tell me whether you coming home an hour late and that disgustingly obvious hickey on your neck are in any way related.”

Your stomach jumps at his comment, hand immediately covering the spot under your ear where Jungkook had laid his claim. “I...”

He gives you a knowing look. If one thing was true about Yoongi it’s that he knows you, through and through. You and him are like peas in a pod and sadly there’s not much wiggle room in said pod. Said pod left no space for you to hide your obvious attraction to his friend.

“Oh God, Y/N,” Yoongi gives you a disgusted look. “No. Not at the shop. I know that Hoseok and Jungkook clean that place religiously, but still. I sit on those stools too! You heathens.”

Your face is red hot as you try to find the words before he can get any more ideas. “We — no, we didn’t fuck, okay. Please just calm down.”

Yoongi sighs, a breath of relief. “Good, because like — I’ve eaten at those tables. I don’t need to accidentally touch Jungkook’s lefto—“

“OKAY! I get it, I get it! We didn’t fuck. I swear.”

“Wait. Not at all?”

“Nope.”

He groans, throwing his head back. “Does that mean I need to sit through another week of gruelling sexual tension. Do I really need to be subjected to this another week? Like I have an actual fear that the two of you will at one point climb over the table and devour each other while I’m right there!”

You get up. “Okay, this conversation is over.” Honestly, you would tell him what actually happened this afternoon. About Jungkook thinking you cheated on Hoseok. But telling your brother that will just make him fear that Jungkook’s already figured out that him and Hoseok are together. “It’s your day to cook today, by the way.”

Then, he pouts. “Hey, no! I was sad today, can’t you cook? I deserve comfort food!” As a grown man, your brother’s ability to whine about little things is slightly concerning. But he will only do so at his advantage. No, whenever a time comes that Min Yoongi must adult on you, he will be an adult. And when he wants things from you, he will whine.

“Not after you called me a heathen,” you sing-song. A kiss to the top of his head and a ruffle to his already messy hair is enough to send him into a fit.

“I’m older than you! Only older siblings get to ruffle heads!”

“I’m in the mood for beef stir-fry. Oh,” you say, turning around to look at his offended form in the kitchen, “don’t forget to call Hoseok while you’re at it. If you don’t,” you smile, “I will let Jungkook fuck me,” pause, narrowing your eyes, “on our kitchen counter.”

Utter scandalisation, Yoongi’s mouth falls open. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“I don’t know, Jungkook seems like a guy who’s up for anything. I wouldn’t risk it if I were you.”

Next Wednesday, you and Yoongi are arguably late to Taehyung’s birthday dinner at Hoseok and Jungkook’s apartment. Not that it’s a problem though. Jimin’s still fussing around in the kitchen with Hoseok’s help and Jungkook is nowhere to be found.

Jungkook, who’d been hitting up your phone the entirety of the two days you hadn’t seen each other. Including various attempts of sexting that you had to shut down because you were either in class or with your brother.

“Finally, Yoongi, I need your help.” Hoseok turns, hands covered in what appears to be some red marinade. “Come here.”

You smile as Hoseok kisses Yoongi before anything else. It’s good to know that they can now be themselves. The two hadn’t wasted another day to tell Jungkook about their relationship. He took it well. Aside from sending you a very exasperated text about the whole ordeal, calling himself a dumbfuck. Something you wholeheartedly agreed to.

Jimin’s busy chopping something, and you can just see the glint of silver ring that sits snugly around his bottom lip. He can’t wear it to work, the same way your brother has to take out his nose ring every time.

Yoongi’s commitment to Hoseok had been clear when he’d taken out both his lip piercings for his boyfriend. The other’s terrible fear of the things made kissing a bit of an issue. It was how you knew that even through their fighting, they’d be in for the long run. Especially because Hoseok decided to learn to live with Yoongi’s nose ring.

Taehyung’s reading a book in the living room, he hasn’t acknowledged your presence yet. Jimin apparently gave him all hell for being so rude to you, so you hope he’s not mad with you anymore.

“Oh,Y/N,” Hoseok says suddenly. “Kook’s probably in the bathroom.”

You frown. “Okay?”

The redhead gives you a flat expression. “You’ve been standing in the middle of the room for the past five minutes. Just go and talk to him or something.” He realises his words. “No, not or something. Only talking!” he calls after you. “No fucking in my bathroom!”

You wave him off. “Yeah, yeah.”

True to Hoseok’s words, Jungkook is in the bathroom that hides in the back of their apartment. The open door lets you quietly peek around the corner. What you find is a little more than you bargained for.

Jungkook stands in front of the mirror. Clad in ripped, black skinny jeans and a deep maroon and black flannel with what seems to be Urban Outfitters version of tribal designs on the sleeves. Said shirt hangs open, and the way he has his hands in his hair to pull it up leaves no inch of his toned chest covered.

Your own stomach flutters as his abdominal muscles shift. His nipple piercings glimmer in the harsh lighting. The way they had felt against your own chest Monday — you remember. You remember how he’d kissed you, held you, ground against you. How h—

“Hello to you too,” he chuckles with a bobby pin between his teeth. His eyes hold nothing similar to the softness of that chuckle.

Once you gaze up from his lips you find his eyes heavy — dark — as he takes you in. This is familiar, this gaze. It sends shivers down your spine, ones that you struggle to repress.

“Hey,” you breathe, voice low. There’s nothing to be ashamed about, he’s openly letting you watch him. The way he smiles, exposing the piercing under his top lip, says that he’s enjoying it. Loves it. You’re certainly not going to complain.

Not with the way you can see every muscle in his torso as he moves, struggling to get the small pin into his mess of black hair. His skin is almost golden in this light. Warm, enticing. You yearn to touch him. Trail your fingers down his pectorals and feel the ridges of his abs. Hook your fingers into the waistband of his jeans. Pull him against you. Kiss him.

Jungkook’s teeth sink into his bottom lip, faint dimples appearing in his cheeks. He’s no longer watching you watching him. But he can feel your lingering stares. It’s evident in the way he takes his time. How he shrugs the shirt off his shoulders to expose the large, intricate dragon tattoo that curls around his bicep. Every scale is detailed as it’s wing spread over his shoulder for the head to rest on his collarbone.

The longer you watch, the further your mind drifts. Thinking of kissing that exact spot where his collarbone dips, tracing your tongue up to sink your teeth into the skin of his earlobe. What sound would he make? Jungkook has proven to be a moaner, but there might be more than meets the eye.

You know he’s rough. The feeling of his fingers digging into your hips had lasted for long after you’d parted. You know that the sounds he makes go straight to your core. How he growls, groans, grits his teeth. His —

His tongue piercing.

The glint of it in the light catches your eye. You’re drawn to it. How such a small thing could have this effect on you. He knows how to use it and you haven't even felt the worst. The quirk of his eyebrow as he exposes it purposely tells you that much. He’s taunting you.

Your entire mouth goes dry when he scrapes his teeth over his lip again, holding your gaze steady through the mirror. Chest rising with a shaky breath on your part, he ever so slightly tilts his head. A smirk paired with a dangerous look in his eyes.

“What?” Your stomach flutters.

He shakes his head with a lopsided smile. When he turns you come face to face with his chest. It’s not as easy to openly stare this directly. Without the barrier of the mirror your words are lost to you.

You swallow, following his hands as they start to button his shirt. A sight that’s equally enticing and saddening. Watching the stretch of his chest disappear behind the fabric, narrow waist no longer apparent. You can’t help but notice the roughness of his fingers. You’ve felt it. They’re calloused, never used sparingly for anything. A small tattoo hides there, one not easily spotted with how the koi fish draw all attention to them.

Euphoria is etched into the side of his middle finger. A tattoo you’ve seen time and time again, but you don’t know it’s meaning. The dragon symbolises strength, power, will, and the koi fish represent balance. He’s even spoken to you about the tarot cards on the inside of his upper arm, that one drunken night in your living room. The reverse magician for untapped potential, the upright eight of pentacles for mastery and honing skills. Yet, the small word on his finger raises a question for you.

Jungkook suddenly grabs you. You would’ve screamed if his mouth didn’t silence you.

He shuts the door behind you, pressing you against it with enough force to knock the breath from your chest. Tongue licking into your mouth you mewl, grappling for something to hold onto. Your fingers automatically loop into his belt.

With a hand behind your head he angles you up, grants himself access to your warm mouth. You arch into him, every nerve on edge. Every sound distorted by the way he kisses you so deeply you can barely fight for control. No, he’s got you in the palm of his hand, literally. One hand sliding to your ass, digits slipping into your pockets to hold you tight.

Jungkook lets out a deep sound, one that rumbled in his chest and pulls an equally ruined moan from you. His lips are pressing, demanding, speaking ‘you are mine’ into yours. ‘I want you. Now’.

Still stunned, you tighten your fingers into his belt, trying to kiss him back but getting lost in his ministrations. The leather material is tough, but you manage to get him closer. A thigh between yours, you shift your hips up to find friction for both of you.

The kiss is beyond messy. Both needy for oxygen but needier for each other. Breaths mingle and the way he runs his tongue over your top teeth causes a lewd yet startling sound.

“Fuck,” you grumble, breaking from him suddenly.

His eyes remain closed as he licks his lips. “I’ll second that statement,” he whispers hotly, “sitting on the sink or bent over it?”

You choke on your own spit, causing him to finally open his eyes and come back from wherever his mind had wandered. “Jungkook!”

“What? That was a very serious statement.”

“Not with everybody on the other side of the door!”

He grins, tonguing his smiley piercing in a habit that has driven you crazy so often. “Fine.” Straightening up, he swiftly tucks his shirt back into his jeans where it’d come undone under your hands. “Just so you know,” he says, leaning into your ear and opening the door, “all you gotta do is say the word and my room’s right there. I’ll find a way to silence those pretty little moans of yours.”

All the hair on the back of your neck springs up at his words. The way his breath fans out over your ear, lips just shy of grazing you. Tongue darting out, brushing the shell of your ear. You have no reply but a shaky intake of breath.

He leaves, and you’re left to stare at your disheveled form in the large mirror. Hair tangled, you curse under your breath. Jungkook probably won’t mind if you borrow his brush if he has no problems basically swallowing you whole, right?

With the hair at the back of your head finally in place again, you shake your feelings. You can't let Jungkook just play you like that with no repercussions. Two can play this game.

This is how you find yourself walking back into the room, briefly receiving a knowing look from Jimin. You pay him no mind. All you do is glance at the obvious space beside your brother and Hoseok, who now sit at ease in each other’s embrace. Yet, there’s one spot that’s more inviting.

Jungkook knows what you’re up to as soon as you look at him. He narrows his eyes, but you unsuspiciously smile as you take place in his lap as if it’s the most normal thing to do.

Everybody is thinking something, briefly glancing at how you comfortably shift on his thighs. Jungkook himself is less displeased than you’d thought, one hand coming to rest on your leg. Beneath you, you can feel the hard muscles of his thighs and you wonder what it’d be like to ride them.

“Now that everybody is here,” Jimin says, “we can finally do what we came here to do.”

All eyes turn to Taehyung, who gives a deep annoyed sigh. You all know there’s no way around Jimin’s plans. What Jimin wants, Jimin gets. That includes Taehyung, Gucci slippers, and the present that will make his boyfriend very happy even though he’d never admit it. It doesn’t come wrapped in anything big. And as to Taehyung’s wishes, there’s also no singing happy birthday. But the light blue envelope which Jimin retrieves from his bag are enough to make the other’s eyes grow wide like saucers.

Taehyung’s name is written on the front, and he looks at it as if it’s foreign. “I said I didn’t want anything.”

Jungkook fingers suddenly start moving — possibly absentmindedly — trailing the outer edge of your jeans. It tickles. His other hand is placed beside him, keeping him steady as he supports you. There’s enough room for you to squirm but you don’t want to draw attention to yourself. Or the fact that Jungkook is nosing the back of your neck and shoulders. His breath fanning down your shirt and over your back.

“You did say that,” Jimin says, pecking Taehyung’s lips. “But you also said there is something you do want. You just didn’t mention it in regards to your birthday.”

The younger man frowns, sitting up a little straighter and running a nervous hand through his black hair. “Jimin.”

“It’s a present from all of us, Tae,” Jungkook speaks up, fingers falling from your leg.

The second everyone looks away again from the man who’s currently trailing his lips dangerously close to your skin, you shift. Immediately Jungkook’s hands reach for your hips that now sit flush with his. There’s no space left and he can’t do much more than rest his chin on your shoulder with a trembling breath.

You try to concentrate on Taehyung opening the envelope. Somebody speaks, but you don’t catch it over Jungkook’s quiet swear.

“I...” Taehyung’s uncertainty shows, frowning at the piece of paper. Reading every word carefully at least twice. “What is this?” He looks up, giving everyone the same confused expression. Jimin’s sitting on the armrest beside him, trying his hardest to hold back the tears.

Luckily, Hoseok hasn’t lost his ability to speak. Unlike Jungkook who’s gripping your hips like a vice. “Jimin told us that you’ve been wanting to get a tattoo removed and covered. So we all chipped in to get you a laser-removal appointment.”

Taehyung’s still looking at the paper as if it might catch on fire, but he nods quietly. “You all did this? For me?”

Jimin makes an excited noise. “He means to say thank you.” He grabs his boyfriend, kissing him firmly on the cheek, mumbling a congratulations amidst the embrace. “We all want you to be happy, Tae.”

The man nods again. “Thank you, really.”

After a moment of awkward silence, Hoseok gets up first. Preventing the disaster of things getting uncomfortable and preventing Taehyung from shedding the obvious tears that brim his eyes. “Okay, let's all eat. Come on.”

Getting up, Jungkook’s hands stop you immediately. He keeps you tight, grumbling for you to stay put. You chuckle. Talking big game, sure. But his amusement has faded now that you have returned the favour. He doesn’t let go until everyone’s turned to the table.

You stand, swing in your step. Only turning around to catch Jungkook untucking his shirt to shield his very obvious erection from view.

“Really, Jeon?” you whisper with a giggle.

He clicks his tongue. “You want to tell me you’re not wet right now?”

You look straight at him as you lie: “I am not.”

Jungkook merely smirks, starting towards the table but stopping to whisper: “Good girls don’t tell lies.”

You shiver, breath hitching as you watch him sit down as if he hadn’t just said that. Getting on the upper hand on this guy is impossible, he’s just prepared to go one step further every time. But you’re not ready to give up just yet.

As much as you lied. As much as your need for him is rapidly increasing. You’re not going to let those words sink in. If anything you can prove him wrong. Good girl. What a joke. Maybe.

Everybody sits, chatting comfortably as the table-top grills warm up. An array of food sits on the large table. Chicken, beef, squid, side-dishes, Taehyung’s favourite red bean paste, and Jimin’s home-made secret-recipe dipping sauce. There’s way too much food, but nobody will complain about that.

“Hey Jungkook,” Jimin starts, “how is that whole situation with the guy from Australia going?”

Jungkook sighs. “Not too great to be fair, it’s nearly impossible to find a proper date that suits us both.” For the past two months Jungkook’s been trying to get an internship with an artist he admires. They’ve gotten in touch through instagram, and he’s been beyond excited. Talks of him going to Australia for a month keep getting more serious.

“You’re not going,” Hoseok says with a mouth full of food, “unless you’re trading with someone. I can’t man the shop alone and you know it. It’ll be bad for business.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook shrugs it off. “Anyway, he said it’ll most likely happen next summer if anything. We will see.”

Yoongi coughs, sipping water to rinse down the extensive spices. “Jimin, that sauce of yours. It gets me every time.”

“It’s good!” you and Jungkook interject in unison, causing everybody to shoot you a weird look.

“What?” you question. “Actually, give me some more.” You lean over, firmly planting your hand on Jungkook’s thigh without thinking about it. Leaning over, It lands closely enough to the top that you can feel that he’s still hard — if not harder than before.

He chokes on his food, taking a deep breath through his nose.

You sit back down, but your hand remains in position. His thigh tenses under your touch, warm, trembling as you drag your nails up like he’d done to you earlier. Whatever conversation currently plays goes straight in one ear and out the other for you. One hand busy dipping slightly charred chicken into the small bowl of red sauce, the other squeezing Jungkook’s leg.

He can’t do anything. Not without making it obvious what you’re doing. So he shifts, legs falling open and giving you access you weren’t expecting. Possibly on accident. Or in the hopes that you will actually touch him. Your heart races, but your body gets the better of you. As does your curiosity.

The second your fingers touch the head of his dick through his jeans, he jerks. Sitting up straight and snapping his legs closed.

“Jungkook?” Taehyung questions.

You shoot him an equally confused look, playing your part. “Everything okay?”

From the other end of the table Jimin looks at you with raised eyebrows. A gesture which you return with glee.

“Yeah, sorry,” Jungkook mumbles, “just bit my tongue.”

Smooth. Either everyone believes him, or they all know but unanimously decide to not speak and continue the dinner as normal. Even Jungkook seems to have decided to not reciprocate your touch this time. Both hands above the table, sitting with his legs spread as before.

You cross yours, realising that you are still turned on as you do. “So, now that everybody knows about how Hoseok is dating my brother. Can I like ask for asylum so that I won’t have to get my ears assaulted anymore?”

Jimin snorts. “You poor thing.” He raises his chopsticks, pointing at Jungkook. “I’m certain you can arrange something with him. You know. You sleep with him, Hoseok sleeps with Yoongi.” No filter. Jimin’s absolute inability to not say certain things strikes again. Your cheeks run red.

To your surprise, Jungkook doesn't react.

“Okay,” Yoongi interjects. “Can we please not talk about my little sister having sex.”

“Hey!” You point your utensils at him. “I’ve had to listen to Hoseok literally pound you into the mattress more times than I’m comfortable to admit. You guys have no decency, why should I—“

Jungkook’s fingers snaking into your waistband shuts you up. “How about we just don’t talk about people fucking at the dinner table. I mean we—“

“You’re one to speak Jeon!” Hoseok cuts in. “I’ve heard you often enough. I’m not sure what kinda shit you’re into but she should consider this her official warning if you haven’t given her one yet.”

His words don’t quite impact you. Not with the way that Jungkook starts gently rubbing circles over your exposed hipbone. His fingers still hooked tightly into your jeans, holding you from moving. The touch to your skin is barely there, but it’s enough to put him on your mind the entire time. To make sure you don’t forget the wetness between your legs that he’s causing.

Jungkook is idly engaged in the banter, and all you can think off is his fingers on your skin. What’d be like to feel them elsewhere. Deeper. Rougher.

You uncross your legs, try to relax. To get your mind off the way he tugs you just a little bit closer. Close enough to be able to hook his foot around your ankle and spread your legs wider. Why would he — His hand comes down just above your knee.

Every breath you take is a feat, you’re hyper aware of how you sit, how he touches you. This is payback. He doesn’t move his palm, it just rests there like a threat. Or a claim that you’re his.

“Y/N?” Yoongi asks

You shake awake. “Yeah?”

“I was saying,” he trails, “that once you’re done with school, we could all try to go on a holiday together.”

“Oh yeah, that sounds good. Like, far?”

Everybody starts protesting, complaining about money and fears to fly. Jimin and Taehyung both counter Hoseok’s offer to take a longer flight to a further destination. But Yoongi feels that staying inside the country defeats the purpose of a holiday.

You? You just want Jungkook to take his hand off your leg. Not slowly start trailing it up, but there’s no stopping him. Not without swatting at him, or likely trapping his hand between your thighs. The latter situation seems too dangerous.

So you let Jungkook move his hand agonisingly slow until it reaches the juncture of your thighs. Here, he stops.

Luckily you’re not the only one who still feels like they’re bursting at the seams. Jungkook’s still hard, bouncing one of his legs and shifting in his seat twice before suddenly getting up.

He excuses himself to go to the bathroom, but not before trailing a finger along the back of your collar. Little shit. Is he really going to rub one out in the bathroom right now?

Your mind immediately wanders to the visual. Jungkook standing over the bathroom sink, gripping it hard as the other hand slides up and down his length in fast, practiced motions.

Jimin distracts you from this though, asking you about your current study. You do your best to give him coherent answers, but your mind keeps floating back to Jungkook. Dampness between your legs growing fast.

Should you go after him? Maybe that’s what he wants. His earlier offer ringing through your mind, “I’ll find a way to silence those pretty little moans of yours.” Crossing your legs again gives you some friction. Core throbbing even though he’s barely touched you over the course of an hour.

You’re so worked up that when he finally returns you can feel the heft of his eyes on you. He doesn’t touch you, but his presence alone is enough to make you tense. The feeling of anticipation sits heavy in your stomach. It makes you jittery, in a good way. but you’re oh so impatient, fingers itching to touch him, feel him, taste him. It’s a thirst.

It distracts you fully from the dessert. When you look over to Jungkook he’s tonguing at his smiley piercing. Quickly, you avert your eyes back to your plate as if it’s gonna burst into pieces if you don’t.

True to character, you end up getting sticky caramel sauce all over the side of your hand. You lick it off, not thinking much of it but aware of how Jungkook’s watching you. No, you can’t eye-fuck him while everybody is there.

Never have you been so relieved for a dinner to end. Everyone’s getting up and helping to get the dishes in the sink. They’ll be washed later, or tomorrow. Now, you‘re going to go out to a local bar. Maybe there you and Jungkook can get some privacy — or get laid. Whichever way you want to put it. At this point you don’t care about where it happens anymore.

Jungkook lingers by the door, purposely waiting for everybody to leave the apartment under the pretence of having to lock the door. Yet the second the door just falls closed, the first thing he does is grab and entire handful of your ass and squeezes. Hard.

“Shit.” The words slip from your mouth and everyone turns back to look at you. You stare blankly ahead for a few seconds, Jungkook walking past you. He’s easily stopped by you inconspicuously grabbing the back of his shirt. “Is today the twenty-ninth?”

Yoongi looks at his phone. “Yeah, why?”

The lie is easily constructed. “I have a paper to hand in tomorrow at 10am. Fuck. I forgot to send it in early.” You cast your eyes up towards Jungkook, hoping he catches on. “Can I borrow your laptop? I promise I’ll be fast.”

“Yeah,” he answer quickly, “sure.” Jungkook gives his friends a look. “We’ll be right out, don’t wait up for us.”

The other four men are silent, and you know how fucking stupid you look. How obvious it is. But if anybody dares open their mouth about it, you’ll just admit the truth at this point.

“Okay,” Hoseok shrugs, his answer enough to make the others follow him.

Jungkook’s quick to turn towards the apartment, hands fumbling with the key. Only Jimin turns around to look at you. The blonde wiggles his eyebrows, pushing his tongue in his cheek twice coupled with a swift motion of his hand.

You flip him off, holding up your middle finger and turning back to Jungkook.

The door swings open, your stomach tightening with excitement. Hands slightly trembling from the nerves but you get no time to waste a thought on it. To even think about what’s going to happen.

He’s all over you the second the door falls closed. Barely inside. Kissing open-mouthed, hands fumbling for clothes. He untucks your shirt from your jeans, pushing your cardigan off. You struggle with the buttons on his flannel.

The kiss is filled with impatience. You want this. Now. The sounds that fall from both of you are swallowed by the lewd noises of your tongues. You give him no slack this time. Determined, you press into him, promptly tearing the last two buttons off as you slip your tongue into his mouth.

He moans as you trace his tongue piercing — louder when you bite and suck at his bottom lip. You let yourself revel in the sounds just a little, fingers finally tracing the ridges of his abs. Tweaking a nipple piercing, Jungkook lets out the most strangled whine you’ve yet heard from him and you smile into the kiss.

Suddenly you feel your jeans slack against your waist. “Off?” he asks, thumbs already hooked into your waistband. Your own fingers sliding his belt out of the loop.

“Now,” you growl into the kiss.

Your jeans and panties are at your ankles in seconds, and you kick them to some corner of the hallway. Jungkook doesn’t linger. Doesn’t gaze up at your now fully exposed cunt from his brief position on his knees. He just grabs you by the back of your thighs and hoists you up around his waist when he stands again.

Like this, the rough material of his jeans rubs against you, making you hiss. It’s good, rough, but good. He knows, smirking into another wet, sloppy kiss. You have no mind for the way your teeth clash. Too busy trying to undo his buttons and zipper between your bodies. Like this you can feel your own wetness slip against your wrist.

“I still can’t believe,” Jungkook mumbles, suddenly hoisting you up even further, “that you,” he bites at a nipple through your shirt, “chickened out on the other nipple piercing.”

You let out a dry chuckle that dies off into a string of moans as he pushes up your shirt and starts mouthing at your chest. He pays special attention to the one nipple that’s pierced. Pressing his tongue into it, followed by a breath of cold air. You shiver, toes curling as he holds you tightly against the wall.

“Not every—everybody,” you pant as he teases your nipple with his tongue, flicking it with his piercing, “is into pain like you, Jeon.”

He lets out a short laugh, mumbling something into your breast that sounds like a version of ‘not now,’ as he sucks a bruise into your skin. You must look like a mess, you think as you slide your fingers through his hair. Marks blooming. Bare centre pressed against his abdomen as he's using all his strength to keep you up in this position.

“Jungkook,” you whine, voice pitching a little too high. “Put it in, or I’ll chop it off and show you pain.” Like this, you can’t feel his dick. But you know he’s hard. He still was when you undid his jeans. It must be painful at this point. Especially with how you’re rubbing your wetness all over his stomach.

He groans, bracing a hand against the wall. “Hold on to something.”

You grapple for his shoulder as you tighten your hand around his waist. The other hand finds one of the coat hangers on the wall beside you. “Fuck,” you realise how hard this is. How’s he keeping you up?

Within seconds, Jungkook manages to pull a condom from his back pocket. Uncanny. Prepared and ready to go. You internally praise him for it. He holds you pressed against the wall as he tears it open and slides it on. A pained moan falls as he touches himself after being hard for so long. The sound is delicious, his head falling against your shoulder.

A thin sheen of sweat already coats your bodies. Shirt plastered to your skin, Jungkook’s fringe starting to stick to his forehead. But he shows no mercy.

His hands now come down to your ass, and your arms start shaking from holding yourself up.

The first initial brush of the head of his cock against your centre has you clench up. Excitement rushing through your body. Finally, after hours, days, months, you feel him. You moan. “Jungkook please.” The position doesn’t allow you to shift. To sink down onto him on your own accord.

He knows this. Letting out controlled breaths as he finally starts letting you down. There’s no resistance because of how wet you are. Your nails dig into his shoulder, his sink deeper into the flesh of your ass. Every single twitch of your core has him shuddering, but you can’t help it. The relief that floods your body at finally feelings him is insane.

You feel like a teenager, on edge this easily. At this point, your arms really start burning, and you try to shift. “Jung—FUCK!” The coat hanger snaps, breaking off the wall and causing you to lose your hold and sink down on him, fast.

In shock, Jungkook catches you and slams you against the wall. Your head knocks back, and Jungkook lets out a harsh breath through his nose as he bottoms out. “You good?”

Laughing, you nod, causing him to smile sheepishly despite the fact that you almost literally fell on his dick. “Please just,” you shift your hips a little to search out any friction, “move. Please move.”

Jungkook obliges, pressing his entire body up against yours. Pulling out, he slides back in to the hilt with one smooth thrust and you can‘t even form a noise. Your moan dies off in your throat, eyes closing at the feeling. The angle makes you feel every single inch of him, so deep. Pressed right up against your g-spot from the get-go. You shiver, clench, making him shudder.

“Fuck,” he growls, “so wet.”

Nails digging into his shoulders, you edge him on. Clenching and shifting to get him to finally just move. And move he does. Though the position doesn’t allow for more than him rutting straight into your most sensitive spot and sending you into a frenzy.

High pitched moans and deep grunts fill the hallway, your shirt protecting you from the harsh rub of the wall. All you can feel is his cock moving snug inside of you. Minimal friction, but maximum contact, you feel him twitch every time.

It’s hot. Suffocating. Having him this close. It’s delirious, toe-curling. You’re a mess, head thrown back as he just keeps moving. His pelvic bone rubbing right into your clit when he changes angle and— oh. “Shit,” you breathe.

“Yeah,” he answers, smiling into your neck. “I—“ he pauses to curse loudly, not stopping his movements. “I’m not gonna last.”

You barely hear him, whining in the back of your throat.

“I’m serious,” he repeats, licking up the side of your neck. “I’m close.”

Can you care? You feel like you’re on the edge, but also nowhere near your end. But in the haze of pleasure you nod, finding his lips as you try to not lose the feeling. “Don’t stop.” Holding him tight, you push his flannel of his shoulder for better purchase. “Don’t,” you lick over his bottom lip, “stop.”

Jungkook moans — a loud sound — as you find purchase to meet his movements. He moans, your cunt suddenly tighter, sucking him in. It takes only two, three more thrusts before he stills and comes so hard he nearly drops you. His entire body shudders as he twitches inside your walls. Your legs slip down, supporting your own weight before you actually tumble.

“Fuck.” He hides his face in the crook of your neck, panting heavy and wet against your chest. With his dick softening inside you, your core aches for more. Dripping still, you need friction. Release. “I’m — shit — wait.” Jungkook lets you down properly, slipping out of you. “Jesus, I’m so—“

You hush him, carding your fingers through his hair as he’s too embarrassed to meet your gaze. The empty feeling between your legs ignored for now. He’s hot, and his back and shoulders are covered in scratch marks. When he finally leans back you see his half-undone hair, his flushed skin. Eyes dark, lips red and swollen. A sight to behold.

“Jungkook,” you whisper, touching his chin to make him look up at you. Thumb running over his bottom lip, you press inside to feel the tip of his tongue. Deeper, to find his piercing. He responds lazily, sucking on your digit. “Why don’t you go down on your knees.” Your voice is a drawl, laced with the arousal that’s still burning through your veins like wildfire. “Show me that tongue piercing is more than a pretty accessory. Hmm?”

His eyes darken immediately. He gives you a taste of what you might expect, swirling his tongue around your thumb. Your stomach swoops, legs still shaky. Pulling off with a pop, he chuckles at your expression. “Let's get to the bedroom. I’m not gonna be able to hold you up while I eat you out.”

So casual. “I’m not afraid of you and your golden tongue medal Jungkook. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Jungkook makes a face, tongue swiping over this inside of his cheek in a habitual motion. A cocky one. “Okay, have it your way.”

Sinking to his knees, trailing down your thighs, he lifts one of your legs over his shoulder. That alone is enough to unbalance you with the way he licks and nips up your inner thigh. Goosebumps, everywhere. You can’t give in. Not when he hasn’t even—“Shit.” Jungkook goes straight for the jugular, teeth not-so-gently sinking into one of your folds as his thumb slides between them to find your soaked clit. His tongue follows immediately. The pressure of his piercing sudden, and your hand flies to his hair that’s still contained by the elastic.

“Jungk—Fuck.” You sink your teeth into your bottom lip as he wraps his lips around your bud. Your body isn’t prepared.

There’s sudden, hard suction — no warning, no build-up. Jungkook sucks at you in bursts, at just the right angle where the ball in his tongue presses slightly left and — “Ah, shit, shi—fuck!” Your entire body starts vibrating, your high approaching so fast you lose control of your one leg that supports you. He expected it, because his assault stops just in time to catch you from toppling over on him.

He gazes up, lips and chin shiny, eyes glazed over and heavy-lidded. “Bed?”

All you can do is nod. Your mouth dry, breath trembling, legs jelly.

The two of you kiss when he stands and you taste yourself on his tongue ever so slightly. His bedroom isn’t far, but neither of you can let go. His hands sliding under your shirt, finally lifting it off your body. Immediately, his hand find your chest, touching, squeezing, tweaking. You moan, your own hands busy with pulling him along and tugging the last bobby pin from his hair.

Jungkook’s jeans are finally discarded when you enter his bedroom. Now less rushed, you see the floral pattern on his hip. You touch it, roses curling over his skin and disappearing under his boxers only to resurface on his thigh.

You’d take your time to trace him, remember him. but right now you’re too hungry for release. You can’t remember the last time you were this needy. This turned on. High-strung. Just thinking of his mouth has you shivering and rubbing your thighs together.

“On the bed,” Jungkook mumbles against your mouth as you kiss him. “Unless all you wanna do is make out for the rest of the night.”

You chuckle, smiling as he pushes you onto the bed and presses you against the dark covers. He seems gentle now, though your aware that what’s to come is anything but. He’s proven as much.

Back arching while he kisses down your chest, you let your own fingers roam the planes of his back. His skin is soft, ink dancing at the edges of your vision as he trails down your body. Teething at a nipple, scratching over your hip bones — Jungkook has you trembling by the time he reaches the apex of your thighs again.

You whine for mercy.

He smirks knowingly, as he breathes out over your folds. Not another second wasted, yet a teasing edge to his actions, as he lickes up your sex.

Shivering, your hands tighten in the sheets. His tongue is warm, pressing against your core while he uses a firm hand to spread your thighs further apart for him. Like that, he holds you open, pausing, breathing against you. The lack of contact lasts too long, and you shift. Canting your hips up for anything.

Eyes closed, you don’t see him move. You feel the nudge of his nose first and then... Cold. “Ah.” The press of his piercing right against your clit is ice cold and firm. Your entire body tenses up, legs nearly clamping down around his head. It’s downhill from there.

Jungkook holds you open with one hand, fingers painfully firm. He's in a controlled frenzy. Hard, swift, slurping, not a part left unattended as he pulls sounds from you, you weren’t aware you could make. The way he flicks the metal against your clit sends you keening. Back arches, painfully so with curled toes and tug at his hair — he groans. The vibrations going straight into your cunt, his tongue flattening.

He almost lets you rut up into his face. Your hands tightening into his locks, hips shifting up over his mouth. Jungkook moans into you, shoulder tensing and eyes closing. Like this, you get the fast friction you want, the build-up you need, the—

“Fuck.” His hand grabs your wrist, pulling you from his hair. “If you wanted to sit on my face, you could’ve just asked.”

Your core clenches at the thought. Him under you, gripping your thighs as you use his mouth for your own pleasure. Those dark, wide eyes looking up at you. All fucked-out. “Can I?”

He chuckles. “Absolutely not. You can use me next time. Tonight you’re mine.”

His. It falls off his tongue so easily, so deeply. You are his.

He dives back in, no longer stopped by the feeling of your hands pulling at his hair. No, he knows what to do now. Swiftly he slips a finger into your sopping core. The way he curls that one finger into you is as if he’s done it before. You’re still sensitive from when he fucked you but he doesn’t care.

He knows he’s got you when your entire body starts shaking. You can’t stop it. The combination of his finger curling in and out of you, and his tongue rapidly circling your clit — it’s too much.

You whine loudly. Entire body on fire, tingles going down to your toes. There’s no way you’re not soiling his sheets. Him using the back of your hand to swipe over your core so he can gain purchase says enough.

His lips wrap around your clit again and he does that thing. That sucking, the flicking of his piercing. Warm, wet, rapid — this beats any toy you’ve ever used.

You can feel your high approaching like a freight train. A heavy weight in your lower abdomen. It hits you before you can even warn him. White flashes beneath your eyelids as you arch off the bed, hands pulling at the sheets.

He doesn’t stop. Gentle sucking and licking until you fall limp onto his sheets.

Eyes still closed, you’re vaguely aware of what’s happening. It’s like you’re floating, a strange, fuzzy feeling. He closes your legs, and you whimper his name with furrowed brows.

“I warned you,” he chuckles, lips pressing into your shoulder. “You didn’t listen to me.”

When you open your eyes he’s beside you, leaning on one arm. His fingers trail the shape of your chest, brushing over a very sensitive nipple. A leg slung over your limp ones. The line of his body — he’s gorgeous. Yours.

“Fine,” you sigh, “I’ll admit it.” His lips twitch up into a smile before you even finish your sentence. “You’ve ruined me. Now you’re stuck with me. I’ll never want anything but you and your devilish tongue for the rest of my life.”

Jungkook’s smile widens further, holding in a laugh as he reaches over to kiss your lips. “You don’t know what you’re asking for sweetheart,” he whispers, tongue darting out to touch yours. “I’m not done with you yet.”

When he pulls you in, you can feel him. He’s rock hard against the juncture of your hip. Feeling him again...the thought makes you shudder. But you can also feel the sensitivity linger in your core. “No,” you squeal playfully when he rocks his hips into yours. Skin still separated by his boxers. “I need time to recuperate from all that!”

“You get ten minutes.” He nips at your chin, noses the line of your jaw. “I’ll show you what it really feels like to be ruined. We can discuss the rest of your life later.”

You grim, turning to capture his lips, legs intertwining further. “Yeah, Jeon? Gonna prove to me you’re not just a one pump guy?” The little giggle in your sentence conveys your teasing.

Jungkook’s hand grips your ass hard, pulling you flush against him. “Ten minutes are over, brat.”

An unpleasant tingling in your arm is what wakes you in the still-early morning. You sigh, shifting to feel the weight that rests over your shoulder. Jungkook.

Everything comes tumbling back. Him fucking you against the hallway wall, eating you out and making you see stars, and then fucking you again — twice. You screamed his name until you cried both of those times. The dull ache between your legs is the proof of it, as is the dryness in your throat.

Right now he lies asleep with his head on your shoulder, hair splayed messily over your skin. Your legs are twisted, and when you turn you can feel that he’s sporting a very serious hard on. “Jungkook,” you whisper, running your fingers through his hair.

He groans, lips brushing your skin as he wakes. His arm tightens around your waist, fingers sending warmth up your spine. When he finally opens his eyes he blinks hard, once, twice, to look up at you with a wide, almost innocent gaze. Your heart skips as he looks up at you so softly. There’s a gleam in those big brown eyes as the sunlight catches them, almost making you forget all the sinful things he did to you.

“Morning,” he croaks.

“My arm.”

“Oh, shit,” he laughs, moving from his position. To your surprise, he ignores his obvious arousal even when it’s unceremoniously pressed against your leg. “Com’ere.” As much as yours, Jungkook’s voice is rough, tainted by your previous activities that went well into the depth of the night.

You let him pull you against him so that your cheek rests on his chest, his fingers carding through your hair. He kisses the top of your head, a warm gesture. Neither of you speak for a good while, almost drifting back to sleep as you bask in the gentle morning. There’s no more tension or heaviness between you. As much as the ‘what now’ question lingers on your tongue, you swallow it. Because you know.

Through the night both of your desires had become clear. Far beyond the point of lust. Jungkook growling that you’re his as his hips drive you into the mattress, and again when he kisses you tenderly after. You asking him if he’s yours, and receiving an affirmative nod as your mouth sank down on him.

No. You don’t need to have that conversation right now.

You reach out for his hand, brushing the euphoria tattoo on his middle finger. “Now I know why you got this tattooed here.”

Jungkook lets out a breath sound, humming into your hair. “I’ll make sure you don’t forget.” This less-sweet answer is paired with his other hand slipping down between your bare legs to brush your sensitive folds. “How ab—“

“Jungkook?!” Hoseok’s voice startles you both. Eyes widening with fear, hand clasping over your mouth.

“What?!” Jungkook calls back, hand coming back to your hip.

“Me and Yoongi are going out to get breakfast, do you want anything?” Your brother is here? Did they hear you?

Jungkook groans. “Where are you going?”

Your hand remains clasped over your mouth, but Jungkook doesn’t seem anything other than annoyed with his friend.

“The bakery,” Hoseok answers. “The one down south.”

“Just the usual then, and an americano.”

There’s a brief silence on the other side of the door, until... “Y/N? You want anything?”

Your face turns red, too shocked to really answer.

“She’ll have what I’m having,” Jungkook calls back with a smile.

“Hey!” You playfully shove at his chest. “I want a latte!” you call towards Hoseok.

“Sure,” Hoseok laughs. “Oh, by the way. One of you is paying for that coat hanger. And Y/N, your panties are cute but I’m not picking them off my floor.”

If you weren’t embarrassed to begin with, you sure are now. Neither of you went back to clean the mess you made in the hallway. Meaning that now only Hoseok saw, but your brother did too and—

There’s a scream “JEON JUNGKOOK! YOU DISGUSTING PIECE OF SHIT!!” your brother wails, Jungkook’s entire body tightens up in response. He sucks in a breath through his teeth.

There’s a long silence, the sound of Hoseok muttering in the distance. You look up at the man beside you, confused. Jungkook’s face is drained of all colour. He known.

You’re about to open your mouth when Hoseok returns.

The door opens, and his voice carries in louder than before. “Jeon, if that nasty ass condom isn‘t gone by the time we get back, you owe me both halves of the rent. Capiche?”

Jungkook gulps. “Yeah.”

Hoseok slams the door shut, getting the message across. The both of you hold your breath until you hear the front door fall closed. Then you erupt into laughter, hands caressing bodies as tears appear in the corners of your eyes.

Jungkook shakes his head. “We have about half an hour,” he whispers, turning you so that you’re lying on top of him.

“I think we can clean up a hallway in less than that Jungkook.”

“Good,” he smirks, sliding your thighs apart so that his hard cock presses between your folds. Bare, no barriers. “Because I want you to ride me.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to let me know what you thought, but don't send me any graphic or vulgar asks please.

Special thanks to: @ayxxha @dee-ehn @spicykoreantatertots @taekooksfxck @sevenwho @sunshineangelhobi @hobisbeautifulass @thinksshesawolf @franklytae @softlyjiminie @out-of-jams @mygsii @joonsrack @namjooniebjonesuniverse (i'm sorry if I forgot someone)

@minjoonalist @ironicarmy @kookiesspacebuns @dammit-jjk @jesuislalune @setton00 @hplsmoon @lexi-the-fandom-master-love @thefiresfromheaven @nctssidehoe @tenshikoo @miladavidson @catsandstrawberries @cvbachacbitch @x-guccipeaches-x @yeontanie21 @feel-the-sunset @jimilogy @si1verrose @bishuthot @shane-knight @carolsummerlove @doki-do-ki @topanga27 @vanitypoko @kookoo-kachoo

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starlightrows · 4 years ago

Text

Something Sweet

Chapter 0 - Chasing Dreams

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Modern!Paz Vizsla x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.4K

Warnings: angst, symptoms of depression (not graphic or diagnosed), brief mention of alcohol and drug use, hopeful ending

Summary: Paz finds himself trapped in a routine that’s keeping him tied to a lifestyle that brings him no joy. It’s not until a phone call from his good friend Din, that he realizes that there are better things waiting just over the horizon if you can just be brave enough to make the leap of faith

This chapter is labeled chapter 0, because it takes places before the events of the actual story and does not include the reader. If you’re only here for the couply-goodness, feel free to skip this chapter and sit tight the romance is coming I promise!

Chapter 0 - Chasing Dreams is dedicated to @maybege who inspires me to chase my fan fiction dreams every single day, and is single handedly responsible for my love, yearning, and obsession with the Big Blue Mando Man we all know and love as Paz Vizsla! This is one is for you May ❤️

The 5am train is full of commuters, heading into work with coffee cups in hand and more or less rested ready to start the day. Everyone seems to be on the same page, consume enough caffeine to be personable by the time you get to the office, use the time on the train to do your hair or makeup or start a little early on emails from your phone if you’re behind. It’s all very hustle and bustle, keep your head down and keep grinding to make it in the big city.

Paz rode the 5am train every morning. But not heading into the city. No, he got on the train at 5am and rode it all the way down to the end of the line to get back to his dumpy little shoebox of an apartment on the outskirts of the city around 8am.

Why he chose to move to the city after getting out of the Marine Corps was beyond him. His commander told him that he had a friend that was looking to hire some muscle as private security for his upper echelon nightclubs and it could be a good job opportunity for him fresh out of the service. Not having anywhere else to go, he took the job. Now his days blurred together in a lopsided haze. Wake up around 3pm, eat something cheap and tasteless, work out, shower and get dressed to work. Catch the 6pm train into the city and spend all three hours thinking about far away places. What his life might be like if he was someone else or somewhere else. Get to the club and start work at 9pm. Spend the night watching people dance and sing and scream, drink ridiculously expensive alcohol and take brightly colored party drugs that blow out their pupils and make them want to dance and sing more. By the time 5am rolls around again his head is pounding from listening to electronic dance music for 8 continuous hours, and he spends the remaining 3 hours of his day riding the train back out of the city and wishing he had made different choices in his life.

Of course he does get Monday’s and Tuesday’s off, those days he still doesn’t really know what to do with himself. It’s too expensive to have a car in the city, so he can’t drive anywhere. And he’s too far away from any of the attractions of the city to walk to them. So he tends to spend his off days either walking around the track at the local park, or in his tiny kitchen kneading bread dough and baking test batches until it comes out the way he liked it. This is one of the big things he spends his time wondering about. If he kept up working in private security, and paying for this shit apartment, would he someday be able to afford to move closer to work and spend less time commuting? Maybe he could eventually save up and get a place with a bigger kitchen so he could try making more things. He liked baking. Kneading bread dough, making cake batter, mixing frosting colors. It’s telling that a man like him dreamt about pastries and cooking every night, and spent his long commuting hours debating on saving up more for a better place or spending a little extra on culinary equipment.

He didn’t tell anybody this is how he spent his time and money, not that he really talked to anyone these days anyway. Since leaving the service he hasn’t been good about keeping up with his brothers in arms, or his friends from before getting deployed. He hasn’t really made new friends in the city either. It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk to any of them, he’s just busy and when he does think about reaching out to someone, he always figures they’re busy too. Every day the sun rises and sets, and it’s like he’s just floating through life, waiting for something to change.

One Monday, Paz is walking around the track at the local park. It’s scraggly and not well maintained but at least it’s outdoors. He’s thinking about the sourdough loaf back in his apartment rising right now. Hopefully this one will turn out good, he’s planning to try a dutch oven bake soon, but that requires buying a dutch oven and he’s trying so hard to save up for a better apartment. His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he considers just letting it go to voicemail figuring it was probably his boss asking him to come in and work tonight. But something in him tells him to look, the name on the screen surprises him. Din Djarin. His long time friend from way back before joining the service. Paz answered the phone.

“Hey buddy, Happy Birthday!” Din says. Paz stopped walking

“It’s not my birthday?” Paz stepped off to the side of the track and sat down on a bench running a hand over his face.

Din laughs on the other end of the line, “Yeah it is, April 30th right?”

Paz pulls his phone away from his face and checks the date, “Holy shit, it is my birthday,”

“Yeah man. Did you really forget?” Din asks, he sounds like he’s moving around Paz hopes he’s not bothering him or getting in the way of his day right now.

“Honestly yeah, it feels like April just started,” he admits

“Been busy then? Running around in the big city, making big money, romancing cute hunnies?” Din teases, Paz can hear another voice on the other side. He figure’s it’s Din’s son, he’s gotta be about two or three years old now.

“Yeah, something like that,” Paz mumbles

“Yeah? Then why don’t you sound happy about it?” Din asks, sensing his friends lack of enthusiasm

“It’s fine, really. The city is nice, I just wish I could actually live in it and enjoy it. Actually I wish everyone who lived here actually enjoyed it. Kinda just feels like everyone who lives here only knows how to work or be a strung out party goer,” Paz sighs

“Guess the big city life isn’t all it's cracked up to be huh,” Din says “Listen… you should come out to visit sometime. I feel like this city is more your style. We’re still a major city with nice attractions and events, but there’s more community here and things are a little slower ya know,”

“I can’t just drop everything and go all the way out there. You live over 2000 miles away,” Paz says, though the prospect of a smaller city with a community atmosphere does sound awfully appealing

“Paz, you’ve been working for a private security company for two years and I can almost guarantee that you haven’t taken a single hour of paid time off or sick leave. Flights are a little pricey, I’ll give you that, but you can stay with me so you don’t have to pay for a hotel or anything,” Din offers “I’ll pay for your half of your flight, call it a birthday present,”

“I’ll tell you what Din, I’ll think about it. You’re probably right, I do need to get out of the city for a bit. I’ll talk to the boss about taking some time off,” Paz says, standing back up.

“That’s the spirit!” Din exclaims “Call me when you figure out a time that’s good for you so we can book you a flight,”

Paz and Din chat idly for another couple of minutes before Din bids him goodbye, and happy birthday. Paz tucks his phone back into his pocket and smiles. For the first time in a very long time, he’s actually looking forward to something.

----

Two weeks later Paz is sitting on a plane for the first time since coming back to the states after deployment, with two weeks off of paid vacation time on his way to visit Din. It’s a long six and half hour flight and the seat is pretty small for how wide his frame is, but he’s hopeful. If nothing else, he was going to get to spend two weeks with his best friend.

Din is waiting for him at the airport when his flight arrives. He greets him with a bracing hug and the promise of a really good dinner waiting for him. The moment Paz steps out of the airport he knows he’s in trouble. Instead of a massive industrial looking city full of high rise buildings with thousands of people pushing their way through to get on with their day, he’s met with bright blue skies. Trees that are just starting to put out new leaves and flowers for spring. The air is fresh and clear. A feeling wells up in his chest, when he turns and can see mountains in the distance. It’s beautiful.

“You coming?” Din draws him out of his thoughts, tossing his suitcase in the back of his truck.

“Yeah, I just didn’t realize you lived so close to the mountains,” Paz admitted stepping up into the passenger seat.

“Everyone says that when they first come here. You should see them in winter when they’re covered in snow,” Din says. Paz can imagine it, but he hopes to see it with his own eyes.

Din drives through the city, it’s a lot like the city Paz had just come from, except older and less flashy. Less people, and less cars. All of the businesses looked unique and inviting.

Din passes a street and points down it without looking, “My studio is right down there. It’s a great little spot. All the business owners on the block are close, we play poker and shoot pool on Tuesday nights at the bar on the corner. You’re definitely coming with me for that this week,”

“I could shoot some pool,” Paz laughs.

Din turns out of the downtown area, and takes a main boulevard lined with fast food restaurants and dive bars. Din points again, “That’s the stadium for the university. Hope you like football, because it’s kind of a big thing here,”

“Still think I could have pulled a scholarship for football straight out of high school if I wasn’t so dead set on going into the Marine Corps,” Paz jokes

“It’s just as well,” Din shrugs with a smile “you make one hell of a Marine,”

Din turns down another road off the main drag. They pass parks, an elementary school, neighborhoods, and a lone Dairy Queen before turning into another neighborhood full of very nice houses with front lawns and trees giving off pink and white flower buds.

Din pulls the truck up into one of the driveways, and cuts the engine. Paz gets out of the truck and takes in the house. It’s massive by his standards.

“Is your girlfriend a CEO or something?” Paz asks with a laugh. Din gives him a look, and goes to take the suitcase out of the back.

“No? She and her brothers flip houses together,” he replies “why do you ask?”

“Your place is huge, man! When I was a kid these are the kind of houses I thought millionaires lived in,” Paz follows Din towards the front door.

Din laughs, as he unlocks the door. “Maybe in other states, but not here. The million dollar houses here are the size of castles. This house is pretty average for this area, and it didn’t cost us an arm and a leg to get,”

Paz nods and follows his friend into the house. It’s not just a house, it’s a home. Paz can tell because even though it’s clean on the inside it looks lived in, well loved. Pictures and art on the walls. The living room had a big tv and sectional couch, perfect for hosting game day events and watch parties. He could see a chest in the corner that clearly had toys in it. The kitchen was huge! A double doored refrigerator, cabinet space and marble countertops. He can see through a sliding glass door there’s a backyard, a play structure and home swing set sat in the middle of it for Din’s little boy. He didn’t have any pets but he could picture a dog running around out there too.

This is it. This is what he’d spent the last two years dreaming about on the train rides to and from the city. This is his far away place. He’s been here for less than half an hour and he already knows, he is meant to be here.

The next two weeks are the happiest Paz has ever felt. Exploring the downtown area, visiting the parks and the nature reserve just outside of town, the restaurants serve great food that doesn’t cost a fortune. He takes Din’s little boy to the zoo and out for ice cream. He gets to know Din’s girlfriend and her two brothers, apparently flipping houses in some of the older more run down parts of town is very rewarding and breathes new life into the city. He visits Din’s tattoo studio, and goes with him to the bar on Tuesday night like he promised.

Everyone there is friendly, welcoming and adamantly against him leaving at the end of the week.

“You sure you have to go back, you’re part of the crew man!” says Cara, she owns the boxing studio down the street.

Paz took a swing from his beer, and laughed “You think I want to go back there? I gotta figure out how to get out of my lease, quit my job. I gotta find somewhere to live and work here first,”

“If you’re looking for a job just to get on your feet, I could use another bartender,” Boba, the guy who owns the bar says “Fennec is looking to move to part time too, more time slots available for work,”

“If you’re serious, I’ll take you up on that offer,” Paz says.

Boba extends a hand to him, “Job’s yours if you want it,” Paz grins and shakes his hand.

A few days later Paz is genuinely sad about having to hug Din’s little boy goodbye, and get back on the plane to take him back across the country. Back to the city that never sleeps, and doesn’t appreciate the little things in life. Back to the six hours round trip of commuting. Back to the scraggly uncared for parks and dirty streets. He promised himself on that plane ride, he would not get caught up in the monotony and blinding routine like before. There is a better life waiting for him. All he has to do is make the leap of faith and take it.

———

He holds himself to his promise. In the first week when he got back he spent the entire three hour train ride to work researching apartments in the area he wanted to live. He was shocked to find out the exact same price he was paying for his shoebox apartment with no amenities and terrible maintenance; could get him a huge apartment with a big kitchen, access to a pool, gym, and shared entertainment space. It even came with a parking spot. And there were other options that were almost as nice for less money. And to think he had wasted so much time and money pretending he was happy, or was getting close to being able to afford to be happy living in the bigger city. What a joke.

He had Din submit an application to an apartment complex he really liked about a week after he got back. The second he found out he was approved and got the apartment, he put in his two weeks notice and started packing. Another six hours plane trip didn’t sound very appealing but, at least it was a one way trip this time.

Paz found moving out of his apartment to be exceptionally easy. He threw all of his belongings into two suitcases, and shipped the few things that wouldn’t fit in a box he could pick up at the post office when he got there. Everything else was not worth saving, so he put everything out on the side of the road in front of his old apartment with a piece of paper taped to it that read: FREE!

Unfortunately moving into the new apartment in the new city was a little more challenging. Furnishing an apartment from scratch is no small task. But to his amazement and truly heartfelt joy, all of Din’s friends he had met when he came to visit helped him move things into his new place. Boba even loaned him his truck to go pick up bigger furniture like the couch and bed frame he ordered. Cara and Peli, the woman who owned the auto parts store on the next block over from Din’s studio and Boba’s bar, sat with him for hours assembling IKEA furniture. Din’s girlfriend even came by with Din’s little boy, to visit uncle Paz and help him figure out how to appropriately decorate and furnish a “real apartment”.

He loves his new life in this new city. Working for Boba at the bar in the evenings is pretty low stress, and he makes quite a bit in tips. During the day he’s been working on sourdough starters, determining the best herbs and flavors to top focaccia bread, trying his hand at doing French baguettes. And more recently, he’s been trying to make chocolate croissants from scratch. Though he hasn’t had much success yet. But he keeps trying.

Every time something comes out perfect, he writes down every step in a blue notebook he found lying around with his things before he moved.

Paz never imagined his life turning out like this. If he was told just 3 months ago he would be moving across the country on a whim, to chase his dream of living a simpler life, he wouldn’t have believed it. And then things got even better.

About six months after moving, Paz really felt like he was home in this city. He split his time between working part time as an instructor at Cara’s boxing studio, bartending for Boba, and working on his culinary hobby. Until one day, the older couple that owned the bagel shop a few doors down from Din’s tattoo studio closed up shop. Apparently they were retiring, packing up the business and moving out of state to be closer to their grandchildren.

There was a sign on the vacant building indicating the unit was about to become available. A thought crossed his mind…. he had no idea where it came from or if he was remotely qualified to pull it off… but it couldn’t hurt to ask.

“Does anyone have a contact number for the couple that owned the bagel shop?” Paz asks the group

“Yeah,” Cara pipes up “I house sat for them once. Why?”

“I want to buy their industrial baking equipment, and takeover their lease,” he replies seriously

“You want to run the bagel shop?” Fennec asks

“No… I uh, I wanna open a bakery,” Paz admits

“You do make a mean sourdough dude…. I say go for it,” Din encourages him

“I’m sure they’ll sell you the equipment at a discount. Hell they might even leave it to you for free if you tell them what you’re gonna do with it,” Cara tells him, she writes down a phone number on a napkin and hands it to Paz. He pockets the napkin with a thank you and a nod.

The next day he calls the number, and has a lovely chat with the wife who, as Cara pointed out, was eager to get the equipment off their hands. She also provided a ton of helpful information on running a small business in this area, who trustworthy suppliers were, a good lawyer to get all the paperwork done, a good accountant to file taxes next spring, and more. Honestly it was a lot more than Paz has even considered, but something in his heart was telling him it’s the right decision. That this is a challenge he absolutely had to tackle. That maybe this has always been his calling.

And right he was. Vizsla’s Bakery had a grand debut the following autumn. And he knew, this is it. He’s finally made it. All of the time he spent in the Marines fighting in wars he never truly understood, all of his years spent working a mindless job in a depressing city, pretending he was not struggling. All of it has led him here. To a city he loves, with friends so close to him they’re like family, a home… a real home. And a dream he can finally live out.

Tag List: @maybege

#Star Wars #The Mandalorian #Paz Vizsla #Paz Vizsla x reader #Paz Viszla #Paz Viszla x reader #Pastry Chef!Paz AU #Pastry Chef!Paz #Modern!AU #Modern!Paz Vizsla

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ofcloudsandstars · 4 years ago

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Hey you doing well?? Its been a while, i just wanted to make sure saturn wasn't kicking your ass too much. Idk you're loved and appreciated ❤❤

This is so sweet omg like sorry I have been quiet for a while but its really nice to see that people will notice if I suddenly disappear and people care! 😩 I dunno sorry to sound so dramatic but sometimes we all get that thot like what if I dropped off the face of the earth would anyone care and I know its irrational and caused by mental health stress cause of course people would notice, certainly my boss who would be like bitch you gotta clock in at 8AM where the fuck you at lol.

Actually things have been ok so far. Just the general Aries season stress but nothing astronomically stressful. Spring Equinox was INCREDIBLE!! We had an incredible zoom celebration and then I met up with some friends of friends which lead me to meet this incredible clique of unfriendly black hottie london afro queer witches and we had a secret rave in someone’s warehouse loft which gave me so much life it like healed me from past traumas of feeling like I don’t fit in like I felt so seen and cherished that whole night. Plus they are all about creativity and living in tune with yourself and they all taught each other how to DJ and use those fancy DJ table sets and they had incredible music sets all night so we danced nonstop. Like I thought I was getting old but I managed to stay up until 7am lol. We had a cat!!! A random cat who lived in one of the warehouses come and crash our party!! He was sooo sweet and cute and probably was intrigued by a group of random magical humans up in the deadass of night during #RealCatHours when most humans would be sleeping so the cat just vibed with us like he came in, found a cozy seat and just sat at the edge of our dancing area as everyone pet and cherished him lol. Shortly after some man with ram horns bust in lol. He was wearing the horns cause it was aries season so he was appropriate. He brought balloons and I have always been apprehensive about doing synthetic substances as I am a child of the earth and will stick to my weeds and plants but I mean if you were ever planning to just experiment with a balloon in your life, why not on Spring equinox on the day of aries season when a strange fae with ram horns crashes your secret warehouse party? It was a good experience lol yolo

Work started early but for a good reason cause my job changed again and we are working on a new system so my manager actually just wants us to get familiar with the changes before we kick off forreal. We’ve been working from home so its ok. It seems once we get the hang of it it will make our jobs a lot easier so I am grateful. Someone organizing the Spring Equinox readings got a bit sick (thankfully not Covid) but was unwell to continue doing it so I have to arrange them now and I feel a bit overwhelmed cause my weekend I am working so I hope I can sort it out :( I feel like people may be understanding since we all have witnessed that getting sick is No Joke these days.

My week has just been busy with events and I finally have today and tomorrow off but I know not everyone is free during weekdays which is wack. I would have tried to start organizing yesterday when I was off but I took off to help this ADORABLE farm in Dartford start up their veggie bed with my gardening group. Oh my god it was so cute and magical and they had all kinds of animals grazing in flowering fields and it was such a sensually spring experience. They had so many cute native flowers blooming everywhere. When I got off the rail train my phone directed me to cut through the local woods for a 20 minute walk lol I felt like I was in some harvest moon shit. The woods were full of flowering trees or trees with fresh green shoots and daffodils and it was soo sunny. There was this one very friendly pig at the farm that was huge and smelly but really liked his back being rubbed so I had fun rubbing his back every time I had to run up to the house to use the toilet and back again.

Anyway now that I have a nothing day I am just sorting through life admin stuff. Thanks for checking up on me. April side of Aries season is always a bit more chaotic for me for some reason so I can’t say how this Saturn transit feels yet but it’s over on the 10th. So far it’s been rewarding and peaceful but I notice my issues with Saturn are really internal cause my native Saturn is retrograde. I feel like its really hard for me to progress in life cause I shut down any budding efforts because they aren’t good enough. It’s pretty crippling but I guess this first transit lesson is to figure out how to get over that for good hopefully.

Anyway I have rambled long enough. I may be pretty quiet for the rest of Aries season as I try to get my bearings (I am pretty excited but really nervous for Uranus entering my 4th house in April!! 😰) but will be more active here in Taurus season for sure. I think I will just come back to make some important posts for astro transits highlighting the more important ones to grace our presence the day before they hit. I mean I’ve always wanted to do that since I know not everyone has time to read the whole monthly forecast in one go and remember it, but life gets in the way lol.

#long post #anon #personal

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catalinaroleplay · 4 years ago

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WHAT ARE YOU DOING NEW YEAR’S EVE...?

It’s a Thursday night. Maybe you’re in bed, curled up with a good book, or maybe you’re having drinks out with your friends. Maybe you’re even one of those folks that like to go out partying on weeknights, dancing the night away to music that’ll definitely give you static in your ears the next morning. Regardless, this Thursday night is different, because it’s New Year’s Eve.

You’re in LA, honestly. Catalina Island, as idyllic as it is, has never held a candle to LA in terms of New Year’s festivities — or maybe you’ve just got friends throwing all the parties, with endless bottles of Veuve Clicquot to boot. Everything is absolutely perfect: you’re closing out the year with your friends, your family, or a bunch of strangers that are just as excited to ring in 2021 as you are. The clock strikes midnight and you’re cheering; everybody’s cheering. You stick around for another drink, but everything dies down pretty quickly after that.

By the time you’re ready to go, you hop on the ferry; lucky, aren’t you, that they posted a special schedule for New Year’s Eve? You’re already a bit hungover and regretting that last glass of champagne, and you yawn, crossing your fingers that you won’t get sick. There’s two people swaying by the side, retching — and oh, look, there’s another to your right.

1:06AM — You’re tired, you want to get your phone charged before it dies completely. You’re probably a little under a quarter of the way back, though after that, you’ll have to Uber home too. From behind you, you can hear somebody laugh loudly, and you sigh, closing your eyes.

1:10AM — You jolt awake. Someone has screamed OH FUCK! from the bridge, and you look around. Everybody around you seems alarmed, but hey, it’s New Year’s. Everybody’s drunk, and you can’t be 100% sure it came from the driver. Surely it was some drunk kid who tripped on their way over to the bathroom, right?

You stay awake this time, though. Ten minutes away, and all around you is the ocean, but it’s calming, in a way. Everybody has returned to their quiet chatter, and you check your phone — 1:15AM.

And that’s when the ferry sputters to a stop.

Not a moment is lost; the door to the bridge flies open, and the driver (you recognize him, it’s the Mayor’s no-good son) stumbles out, howling, crying, the front of his shirt covered in hot sauce. In his one hand is a burrito, in the other are remnants of pieces of something in his hand. His eyes are bloodshot, and all he says is I’M SORRY, I’M SORRY as he falls to the ground, crying in his little pool of sauce by his feet.

You bolt up. You and few others take initiative and pop into the control room. You’re shocked at what you find, unsure of whether to cry or laugh. Everything is covered in hot sauce, and in the corner is a family-sized bottle, all empty. The label says THE DEVIL’S GHOST PEPPER, and when you pick it up to smell it, your nose stings with something wicked.

Immediately, you crouch down next to him, trying to get the story out. It comes in pieces, but he explains: he’d been eating a burrito, he’d wanted some hot sauce. As he opened the new bottle up, some got in his eye, and he screamed. (So that was what the cursing was about!) In pain, he’d shaken the bottle out and covered the entire bridge in hot sauce, and that’d been when the ferry stopped. The cherry right on top of his bad day, he’d forgotten to check the tank on the ferry. They were out of diesel.

Sighing, you check your phone. NO SIGNAL, it rings out. Turns out the black pieces in his hand were remnants of the radio he’d broken apart while trying to fix it, and you feel defeated. What could you do? You ask the driver whether anybody would notice, if anybody would come their way, and he shakes his head, morose. I offered to close up. I - I wanted to prove to my dad that I could do something —

You ignore him. You have no patience for the apologies of a man covered in sweat, rice, and hot sauce, when you spot a red box in the corner. The flare! Of course! Somebody was bound to see the light and you rush over, opening up the box. From behind you, you hear the sobbing stop. Is that the flare?

You nod, walking back out to shoot it into the air when somebody grabs you arm. I can do it! Let me do it! I need to — it’s the goddamn ferry driver, and he’s wrestling you for the flare, and you’d rather be thrown off the boat than let this idiot do anything else — and in the scuffle, the flare flies out of both of your hands, straight into the water.

And that is the moment you know that you are all trapped.

IN-CHARACTER INFORMATION.

SURPRISE — it’s plot drop time! IC information is as follows:

Your muses are trapped on the ferry on January 1st, 2021, from 1AM – 3:30AM.

Cell service is spotty. Every so often, you may get a call or a text, but it is difficult to hold a conversation.

At 3AM, somebody finally gets ahold of the Mayor, who sends out another ferry to rescue everybody, shuttling everyone back to the island by 4AM.

Please let us know by TUESDAY, JANUARY 5TH @ 5PM PST / 8PM EST / 12AM UTC if your muse(s) were on the ferry at this time.

If your muse(s) were not on the ferry, you are still allowed to interact with muses that are on the ferry through choppy texts or phone conversations. It is unclear what happened, as there is no communication going from the ferry back to the island. Your muses on the island are free to speculate what is happening and gather around the Catalina Marina for news. However, nobody is at the Marina, as the driver offered to close up.

Feel free to go as lighthearted or as dark as you wish with the drop!

OUT-OF-CHARACTER INFORMATION.

Beginning Date: Wednesday, January 6th ─ 8AM PST / 11AM EST / 3PM UTC.

Ending Date: Wednesday, January 13th ─ 5PM PST / 8PM EST / 12AM UTC. No new threads related to the event can be created after this date.

Event Threads: Friday, January 15th ─ 5PM PST / 8PM EST / 12AM UTC. Have all event threads, whether you finish a thread, headcanon its ending, or shift it into a non-event related thread, completed by this date and time.

Previous Threads: We kindly ask all non-event related threads to be wrapped up or put on hold for the event, just so everyone can focus on their event interactions. If you have previous threads that you’d like to continue after the event, please draft them before the start of the event so you don’t lose them!

Acceptances: No acceptances will be held during this event. We’ll be bypassing January 8th (Friday) and January 11th (Monday).

Starters: All starters must be tagged #catalina: starter and #catalina: lost at sea and make sure to tag the starter blog ( @catalinastarter ). As always, group rules still apply during the event. Once there are four starters in the tag, you must respond to THREE STARTERS before posting your own.

Tags: Any edit, such as your character’s outfit for New Year’s can be tagged #catalina: lost at sea and #catalina: media! All edits will be reblogged on @catalinamedia.

Self-paras: Feel free to write self-paras pertaining to the event!

Lastly but most importantly: HAVE FUN! This is a chance to interact with characters and players you haven’t yet, so please use this opportunity to be inclusive. If you’ve read all of this, please REPLY with your favorite emoji so I know you’ve seen it!

#catalina: event #catalina: lost at sea

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kadeuxhyeonju · 4 years ago

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Revelations Untold

Kadeu, Location Unknown

1st March 2021, Post-Airang Curse, 8AM

Light was burning through Hyeonju’s eyelids, unusual for him since he was normally up before the sun. He shifted, feeling a heaviness in his limbs. He opened his eyes only to to quickly shut them once more. Damn his head was pounding. What in the gods name was that about? It couldn’t be a hangover seeing as he’d never gotten one in his life. His alcohol tolerance was near god-like and he’d only had a couple glasses of whiskey. No, this was something else.

Groaning softly, eyes still shut, Hyeonju sat up letting the blankets pile around his naked torso. He pressed a hand to his temple in a futile attempt to alleviate the headache. Just as he was about to get up, he felt something shift beside him—or someone. Hyeonju froze, eyes shooting open, fully awake now. Who the hell is in my bed? Wait. This isn’t my bed. The hell? The hybrid turned his head—slowly to avoid aggravating his headache. Laying beside him, still asleep and ducked under the covers, was another body. He heard the soft whisper of breath, felt the warmth of their body through the sheets and close proximity. In an instant, the events of last night came back to him.

FUCK.

An illusion. A powerful one at that. He recalled the red mist, the sudden fire and ice coursing through his veins, the desperation and longing and joy and pain each time his eyes landed on someone passing in front of his eyes. But his eyes hadn’t been seeing the person. None of his senses had. They’d seen someone he hadn’t seen in decades. Idris. Looking as he had the last day Hyeonju saw him—the Fae’s last visit to the Red Dragon. Sounding as amused, calm, and kind as the hybrid recalled. His touch, his words, his expressions—all of it too real and beautiful and too good to be true. Because Idris was not coming back to Kadeu. Hyeonju was certain of that. The hybrid had never been enough for him to stay—the ache from hallucinating Idris was back. Hyeonju dug sharp nails into his chest.

He recalled his own words and actions and feelings. Felt the tumultuous confusion and anger and pain at not being able to understand why he had done and said and felt all those things upon seeing his old friend again. Shame. He felt shame. For seeing Idris in that light and letting his emotions run away. Anger. For whoever had played him like a puppet, using someone dear to him like a toy, and Hyeonju not recognizing the illusion for what it was immediately. Pain. For the inexplicable sense of loss. For he had once again watched Idris fade into the night and become a memory once more. And another emotion—unfamiliar and yet not. He had no idea what to call it. It felt like something bright and beautiful and full of hope had been ripped from his chest. Made him feel like his heart was weeping pools of blood on the sheets of some stranger’s bed and there was no healer who could mend him.

He didn’t want to feel all this. He didn’t want to associate one of the most precious people in the world to him with these emotions, but he couldn’t push them away. Hyeonju had run out of tears a long time ago, but it seems his heart was crying enough for both of them, though he didn’t fully understand why.

Just stop thinking for now.

The hybrid glanced down at the person beside him once more. Their face was buried under piles of blankets, but Hyeonju couldn’t bring himself to pull the sheet back and gaze at the face of some stranger he’d foolishly been magicked into believing was Idris—who he’d slept with because he’d thought it was Idris. Suddenly, he felt sick to his stomach. He’d never been ashamed of sex or those he slept with, but this—this was something else entirely and Hyeonju wasn’t entirely sure he was ready to deal with whatever this was. Gods, this is ridiculous. Get your shit together, Hyeonju.

On silent feet, Hyeonju slipped from bed and gathered his clothes that were strewn about the place. Dressing himself slowly and methodically, Hyeonju focused on each task as if it would cost him his life were he to mess up—if only to keep the memories of last night at bay for the time being. He needed to get out of here and back home to the Vega Gem. Then he could have that crisis he could feel building in the back of his mind.

Hyeonju slipped out onto Kadeu’s streets, took in his surroundings and cursed silently to himself—Of course, I’d end up in Diamond. With a look of nonchalance, he headed toward the Vega Gem. His ears took in sounds of shouting and confusion and pleads for forgiveness. It was coming from alleys and homes and businesses. Hyeonju pitied those taking the fall for someone’s illusion game. He made a point of keeping the faces of last night at bay. Almost home, Hyeonju, almost home.

With a sigh of relief, Hyeonju reached the Vega Gem, strolling through its front doors—only to be met by a sour-faced Alexei. He looked like Hyeonju felt. “Sir,” he greeted half-heartedly, “Can I request the day off. I had a…rough night last night.”

Hyeonju laughed darkly and waved his hand in dismissal. “I’m sure the rest of Kadeu will say the same thing. Take the day off. In fact,” he interrupted himself, “take the week. Tell the rest of the staff I’m not feeling well.” All he wanted was the sweet silence that came with an empty home and the remnants of his dignity in tact as he let the memories tackle him like wild manabeasts. Alexei seemed to sense this and with gratitude, simply nodded, whipped out his amulet to contact the other employees, and saw himself out. Hyeonju locked the door and made his way up to the apartment.

Everything hit him at once. Hyeonju crumpled to the floor of his living room, claws of one hand dug in his chest, the other pressed against his head. He let the memories come. Saw Idris side-by-side with the faces of the people the Fae’s visage had been plastered to. Fuck. He saw the person he’d taken to bed. His stomach roiled. Fuck. He saw a handsome young man—a human by the scent—kissing his cheek and giving comforting words before running off into the night. That man had heard words that Hyeonju knew deep down were words he’d been reigning in and ignoring—words no one was meant to hear. Fuck. There was that beautiful bartender. The acrobat with a smile sweet as the sun after a storm, holding him close and encouraging whatever the hell he’d been doing and saying.

OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE.

He saw Joui’s face, enamored and playful. He remembered flying and feeling like he was reaching for the heavens. He remembered a press of plush lips and how he’d both felt simultaneously overjoyed and disgusted. If he were the Hyeonju of eighty years ago, only one of those emotions would exist, but the building, dawning horror and rage told of how much the hybrid had grown since then. The problem here was that one—he’d kissed Joui—two—he’d kissed his best friend’s lover—three—he’d actually kind of liked it—and four—

Hyeonju groaned, dropping his head into his hands. Whoever cast that illusion—he’d kill ‘em if he ever figured out who’d done it. Unlikely he’d be successful given how powerful the magic was. Because apparently even The Ace of Hearts, a master of mind manipulation fell under it (‘cause there’s no way they’d make out with each other sober and magic-free otherwise). This year was looking to be worse than the last. ‘Cause fucking hell’s bells—

Joui knew about Idris.

#kadeuxhyeonju #self para #: revelations untold #figured i post the signature inner turmoil of juju after airang #just closing up airang

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sunnieskies02 · 5 years ago

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You Need It More Than I Do (College AU)

Shouto Aizawa x Reader

3.3k Words

Trigger Warnings: n/a; A/N: This is for you Pinky @pinky-the-elephant-room

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

Working at the Elephant Cafe was more shitty than it can get.

You opened and closed the shop every single day, the customers were shitty especially the teenagers/ highschool students. You hated them with a passion, every time they walked in you wanted to bang your head on the wood counter so you wouldn’t have to deal with their antics.

Some of them would make a scene and destroy some of the tables and chairs forcing you to kick them out. Other items you would see these big groups of girls walk in, order something that sounded pretty off of the menu, take thousands of pictures of it and then walk out. And every time they did that you silently thought to yourself ‘What the fuck! Those pieces of shit waste so much food, and they come in EveRyDaY!’

You sigh in utter disappointment but you kept on working throughout the day.

The Elephant Cafe was in a very affluent district, fancy cars would silently roll down the street with designer stores covering each side. You realized that the people who came in had almost all the money in the world, and could give two shits about wasting the food or their money. You hated that, you despised how the kids that would walk in would have the rest of their lives planned while you worked all the hours of the day.

A day in your life went a little something like this: At 3am, you would wake up and do your morning routine and be out the door by 3:30am. At 4 o'clock in the morning you would do package deliveries until 8am where you would then change to go to the cafe and work there from 8:30 to 1 in the afternoon. By the graces of Satan you are blessed with a 30min lunch where for the majority of that time you are a part time hotline operator. Then at 5pm, you close the cafe and head to the local convenience store and work from 5:30 to 10pm and you’d still have to do your online college course.

Four jobs in total, not all of them paid well, and the only job that did pay well was working at Elephant cafe. Your home situation wasn’t the greatest, years before you had become a college student your father had died leaving you and your mother to fend for each other. Your mother was a sweet little old lady who took care of the neighborhood children and was a strong prominent woman. Knowing that your mother was growing older in age, you, in secret, gave up on going to college to make more money to take care of her and was going to stay with her mother to take care of her.

But mother knew best.

She told you “Don’t worry about me sweetheart. You need to live your life, I’m not that much an old hag. I can carry my own, be free, and live life. AND don’t forget to bring me back some grandchildren.” As much as you told her that you wanted to stay and take care of her, your bag was packed and you were shipped off to a new part of the country.

Dad didn’t leave a lot of money when he died. So when you were in the big city and on your own getting a job was your very first priority. As you job hunted, you found plenty of job openings and applied to them as soon as possible. Luckily you didn’t have to worry about housing because your friend Mirio had a spare room in his apartment and was allowed to stay as long as you cleaned up and kept yourself healthy. | this sounds a bit awkward and it would be best if you reworded it.

You felt bad for Mirio, but envied him at the same time He got a full ride to E Univeristy while you were working every hour of every day to amass enough money to survive and still try to graduate on time. Life sucked but there was no other way ( respectful way) at that to make more money than you were already making and saving.

Money had you in a mental bind, you felt bad that you were leeching off of Mirio who was working hard, but now even harder because he had an additional mouth to feed.

“Hey y/n? You seem out of it, what's wrong?’ Mirio’s cheerful voice rocked you out of your depressing thoughts and you turned your head towards him. You sigh, « I just… want to make more money y’know. I already work four jobs and I just wanna make money without having to work. » A laugh erupts from Mirio’s chest and he says « Well, the world doesn’t work that way. That’s why I’m letting you stay here for as long as you need. Don’t fret. »

You wanted to combat his words but his bright smile doesn’t allow you too. You close your computer and make way for your room, you throw yourself into your bed and look at the clock. 12:00’ the clock read « Fuck me. » You turn over and force yourself to get a wink of sleep and prepare for another slave away day.

oOo

Elephant Cafe was bustling as normal, preppy pieces of shit would walk in and cause a ruckus. The same group of girls would walk in order food, snap it, post it, then dip. You rest your head on your hand at the counter, and all of a sudden a man walked it. You lifted your head and saw a man who was wrapped in a dull scarf, with eye bags heavier than your under your eyes.

“I’d like a dark coffee with 4 shots of espresso please.” His voice was deep and velvety, it shook you to your core. “Yessir and may I get the name for your order?”

“Aizawa Shouta please.”

“Your total will be—“ A crash interrupted your sentence. Two high school kids were fighting in the dining area over who knows what. “G-give me a minute I’m sorry.” You reluctantly walk over to them and try to handle the situation.

“Who the FUCK do you think you are putting your hands on me!!”

“I barely touched you, I am just asking you to leave the premises. You are disrupting the others.”

“I DON'T CARE!!! My dad could buy you and all of those shitty workers back there!!”

‘I’m pretty sure he could.’ “Please ma’am, whatever you and your friend is arguing about could probably be solved by or infinite pockets and—“

“The fuck is that supposed to mean. Are you saying because I have money and privileges I can’t have any problem!?”

You didn’t answer. Then a splash of water is thrown on your face, and the laughter of the woman erupts in your ear. You wanted to keep your job, but something in you snapped.

“ Your right. I do think that you're privileged and rich and yes you might have problems but I bet you wouldn’t LAST a day in my life.” The girl was silent and shocked “I WORK FROM 4am to 5pm every single day. Four jobs from 4am to 5pm AND I go to college online. I don’t make enough to live on campus, or enough to live on my own. I’m sick and tired of rich pieces of shit not respecting those that work for and around you. You come in here everyday, and disrespect all of us and threaten to have us fired! YOU’RE DADDY’S GIRL AND I HOPE HE CUTS YOU OFF SO YOU'LL HAVE TO FIGURE OUT HOW THE WORLD REALLY WORKS. I GET SO TIRED OF PEOPLE WHO HAVE THE WORLD AT THEIR FEET AND NEVER WORKED A DAY IN THEIR GODDAMNED LIFE!”

The girl looked at you slack jawed. She didn’t know what to say, she looked at you in awe. “Go a head and call your daddy, cuz’ that’s all the fuck you know how to do.”

You walked back behind the counter and continued with the customer who didn’t look dazed at all. Drenched in water, out of breathe, adrenaline pumping “Your total is 5.95. Will that be cash or card?”

“Cash,” he said. He fumbled in his pocket and handed you an American Black Card. You swipe it and he tells you “Debit is fine.” You look at him with a warm smile and back down at the illuminating screen.

“I like what you did back there. She looked really surprised that there are people who actually work.” You scoff, “ Hell yeah, and I work too hard for her to always call on her dad when things don’t go her way. My dad died so does it look like I can call on him, hell no. I work four jobs and I’m still poor.” Realizing that you damn near poured your life to this man you didn’t know you look up and see a small smile.

His order is completed and you hand him his drink. “While you were working so hard her dad showed up.” You roll your eyes and groan, then an envelope and business card is handed your way. “ If you are fired just give me a call. I’ll help you, a hard worker nowadays is hard to come across. And daddy’s little girl is a prime example.” Once he walked up the girl's dad spoke with you, and you were happy that he sided with you in the matter. Which resulted in the girls father cutting her off to make her work to be just as wealthy as he was since he was self made. The look on her face was priceless and she tried to argue with him but the dad didn’t care at all. Daddy’s little girl would have to become a woman.

As Shouta walks out and you look at the envelope, it looked….pretty thick. A cold sweat ran down your face, what was he trying to do? Was it a sleep agent filled envelope! Was it DRUGS?! Not saying that you wouldn’t use them but….what kind of drugs. You take an envelope and place it in your locker in the back and for the rest of the evening, it sits on your brain.

When your shift was over you grabbed the envelope and rubbed it with your callused hands. ‘What the fuck is in here.’ And at the same time you fumbled his business card in your hands. The card read ‘ Kitty Kafe CEO. Owner Of Kitty Kafe Around the Globe. Mobile #: ***-***-***’ Your heart nearly dropped

Into your ass, ‘WTF!’ You’ve never run home so quickly.

“MIRIO!!!! I-I met thé CEO of Kitty Kafe and he gave me his business card and envelope.” He quirked an eyebrow “Wow! That’s a once in a lifetime chance how’d you look?”

“H-how’d I look? I was in my—“ It dawned on you, when you met him you were in your cafe uniform but later drenched in water. “ I was in uniform but later drenched wet.” Mirio shot you a concerned look “No like that you ass. A customer there threw water on me so… yeah.”

You and Mirio spoke about the events of the day and how you made a girl get financially cut off by her dad. That night you slept soundly but that envelope stayed in your mind.

The next day at the cafe you had the envelope at your side waiting for him to come back and to your luck he did. He had the same look on his face and he said “Well it’s nice to see that you aren’t drenched in water this time.” You chuckle, “Same thing as last time, CEO Shouta?”

“So you looked at the business card, it’s good to know that you're literate. But yes,” He hands you his card and rings up your order, “ I’d like for you to sit with me while I drink you coffee. I don’t want to force you.”

You look up at him and furrow your brows “W-why?”

“Don’t act like a kid, I was intrigued by your actions and what you told me. All I wanted to do was know more.” You relaxed ‘Okay, well at least he isn’t a creep.’ Once his drink was made you hold it and walk with him to the seat. While you and him sat together you learned more about Aizawa, he did come from an affluent family but he wished to make it on his own. He was a self made billionaire and his business was flourishing more than he thought. You had also found out that he hated kids, but he was a teacher for a fraction of his life so that was humorous.

Both of you spoke for hours until the end of your shift. Some days, he would sit and watch you work behind the counter. How the sweat would get stuck in your face, and how you would make everyone’s order perfect. Other days he would purchase something for you to eat and laugh at how some crumbs from the cake would stick to your face.

“Hey, you have something on your face.”

“I-i do. Where?” Aizawa leans across the white table and wipes the crumbs off of your cheek. His calloused finger rubbed over your lip slightly and returned back to your cheek. Your face became dusted with pink as he continued to stare at you. His eyes were a deep maroon color, and the seemed as if they peered into your eyes.

“You have very pretty eyes.” Shouta takes his hand back and places it back onto the table and stares. His eyes had a calming effect, his eyes were somehow piercing but soothing at the same time. On another occasion you had made him laugh, you and him have a mutual hate for children, so when you were sitting and chatting with him and said “These kids are the result of too much money shoved up their asses. They need to get smacked the fuckk up.”

Hearing him laugh was foreign to you. It was deep and hearty, like a dad’s laugh in a sense. Aizawa laughed and laughed and when he finally stopped his face went back to its restless state. You look at him in shock and he says “It wasn’t that funny.” You playfully sock his arm and chuckle, pink dust crosses his face and he smiles. These conversations were to die for.

You enjoyed the time you spent with him and hated it when he had to leave. He waved you a goodbye and walked out. You returned to the table and noticed that another envelope was left and you saw that it had your name on it. ‘Was this for me?’ You picked it up and it dawned on you that you forgot to give him the other envelope. You just had to wait till tomorrow, and tomorrow came.

The same thing happened over and over again, Aizawa would order his dark coffee with 5 shots of expression and ask you to sit with him. When you sat with him, you felt the world was on your side, his still face and weird smiles that looked more scary than sweet made you laugh. And at the end of your shift envelopes would be left on the table. It was like he left them on purpose that late because he would have wanted to see you the next day.

Over 3 months of meeting him and texting him( because you had finally exchanged numbers) you had over 93 envelopes with your name on it sitting in your room. It got on your nerves, why had he left them, what was he planning for you?

The next day when you showed up to open. », Aizawa was there,

“What are you doing here Aizawa and I need to talk to you anyway.” he quirked an eyebrow and said “I’m not going to be able to attend our daily meetings. I'm gonna go out of town. So I wanted to see you.” ‘Hé wanted to see me??’ That was weird but once you unlocked the store you motioned him inside.

“What did you wanna y’all about? ” You closed the door behind him and dumped your bag on the table « These envelopes. What’s in them? » He looked at you and said « Money. »

“Money?” Aizawa walked over to an envelope that was pretty thick and spoke, “I looked into who you are y/n. And you’ve had it pretty hard.”

He was right, hell yeah your life was hard. « You moved from a village to a big rich city for school all in your mother’s words after your father died. You came here to get a good education to get a high paying job to send your mom money, so you work hard. Everyday and I saw the pain in your eyes. You push through it but pushing threw isn’t going to be good enough »

You looked at him in shock and he continued to talk. So, when I saw you handed that girl her ass, I started to like you. And that’s why I wanted to talk to you everyday, you were interesting.”You sit at the table and he says, ' In every last one of these envelopes was enough money to give you your own place and money to send to your Mom.” Tears started to form at the corners of your eyes « Working yourself to death is no way to live if you want to die early. So I wanted to help you and I thought you would have caught on. »

You were shaken, you had only met this man 4 month ago and he was treating you in such a way that no one has treated you before. “Why, why are you doing this? I-I don’t understand, I--”

“You work hard. You are a very determined person and everyday you deal with people shit, who never give a damn about anyone else. And,” he walks over to you and grabs your hand. “Everyday I’ve had the pleasure of speaking with someone as strong and eloquent as you.” Your heart breaks a little, “Is this what happens when you are nice to people? I guess I should be nice to rich people more often.’

You hurriedly wipe the tears off of your face and repeatedly say thank you again and again and again. But a thought dawned on you, “Hey Shouta… how old are you?” He looks down through squinted eyes, “38 years old. Why?”

“I-I’m…(y/a). So that makes you…” you show him a big beaming smile. “Myyyy SUGAR DADDY!!!” You giggle hysterically and he rolls his eyes. “I hate to ask this but what the hell is a sugar daddy?” he asked calmly

“Well~ a sugar daddy is an old man who gives a young boy or girl a shitton of money. And you're kinda doing the same.” You latch onto his arm and hear him emit a disgruntled tch come from his mouth.

“Well at least you are being given money for a good reason. You work harder than what you are paid so I’m paying you….and for also being another realist in this world.” You sigh and look up at him, and he looks back at you and continues “ This world runs on greed and people who are hard workers never have enough money to grant themselves a better life. And those who do have the money to live a lavish life they waste it. I saw you and believed that as hard as you work you need it more than i do. So I’m fine giving you money because you earn it based off of your hard work and determination.

You were happy. You were given the golden ticket and you can finally start being more productive and given a man that doted on you for how hard you work and appreciated it. Aizawa was different, and that’s what made meeting him all the better.

#boku no hero academia #aizawa shouta #aizawa sensei #request #sugardadddy #bhna #bhna fluff #mha shouta

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hi-i-love-u-bitch · 6 years ago

Text

Turns Out Being a Super Hero Is Actually Really Gay! - Chapter 2

Yo, yo, yo! Y’all ready for the second chapter of this bullshit? Cuz I sure as hell ain’t because that means I have to now start writing chapter three and I have no idea where this story is going! Aaaaaahhhhhhh! But I’m excited though! Again, thank you to @sugarglider9603 and @ask-spiderverse-virgil for their lovely AU! Without further ado please ENJOY!!!!

Master Post

Beginning

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Swirls of colors and sounds filled their head like passing movie commentary you skip over. Small glimpses in and out of consciousness that made no sense by themselves but when put together you get some sort of visual on the puzzle you’re trying to put together.

“…food poising…?”

“…stress maybe…”

“…flu…should rest…”

“…24 hour bug…”

They all made sense when you thought about it but the reality of it was that they weren’t just “sick” they had been poisoned. Not on purpose, though who could say for sure. Who knows what kind of DNA splicing was done on that spider?

Wait, when did they get poisoned?

What spider?

The spider we let out the window?

No, it’s in our room!

We don’t like spiders! They’re icky!

They aren’t so bad.

A soft chuckle. Of course, we’d think that. You’d think that? I’d think that?

Wait, what?

---

Logan woke up with a start, heart pounding and lungs burning. He clutched onto something solid next to him so as to steady himself. He blinked rapidly, eyes adjusting to the dim light of the room in was in, his room? When did he get here? Logan carefully turned to take in his surroundings; he was in bed, dressed in pajamas, right hand having latched itself onto his head board. He glanced at the alarm clock near his desk it read 5am which would explain why everything was so dark.

Logan’s throat felt dry, like every time he swallowed it was like a cheese grater scraping against his vocal cords. He also fest extremely hungry despite the events that had happened previously. Logan carefully got up to go get some water and maybe an early breakfast only to be pulled back into bed.

“What the…?” Logan looked around to see what had happened and found that his had was still on his head board. His brow frowned as he tried to pull it off but it continued to stick as if it had been glued on. He pulled again, a bit harder, but only managed bend over a section of the metal bed frame. Logan’s eyes widen in shock and awe as he pushed back against the bended area and effortlessly straightened it. Now Logan wasn’t weak by any means necessary but he never considered himself athletic material either, let alone able to bend thick metal bed frames!

A soft tap on the door, “Logan, love, are you awake?”

“Uh, yes Ummi,” He replied hoarsely before clearing his throat “what did you need?”

“What are you doing up so early?” She questioned “The doctor said you should be resting?”

When did he go to the doctor?

“When did I go to the doctor?” Logan asked lamely, seriously all these blanks in his memories were going to drive him insane.

“We didn’t, we had called Dr. Smith next door,” Mrs. Quinn explained “unfortunately the Storms had called him as well. It seems Virgil had gotten sick too, very similar to how you did last night.”

Her voice sounded distant, like the memory of it brought her immense pain and that hurt Logan more then he thought it would. Also, Virgil had gotten sick as well, has he also been bitten? He asked, “Is he okay? What happened?”

“He’s fine but I’m not quite sure what was going on with you two,” She sighed “you seemed to be in a lot of pain, both mentally and physically. It was…very unpleasant to say the least.”

That was an understatement.

“Dr. Smith said it was probably a seasonal bug going around as well as stress,” There was a beat of silence “Logan, have you been doing alright in your studies?”

“Yes Ummi,” Logan reassured “everything is fine.”

“And you haven’t been harassed by other students like that boy from yesterday?” She asked anxiously.

“No Ummi, I haven’t,” Logan said seriously “I’m alright, I promise.”

More silence filled the room, unsureness thick in the air because honestly Logan had no idea if he was really fine or not. There was definitely something different about him that’s for sure and it had to do with that spider. He saw it on his desk, siting in the jar he placed it in earlier as if it hadn’t caused all this trouble.

“Can I come in?” Mrs. Quinn’s voice snapped Logan out of his train of thought and in a brilliant moment of word association he said “N-no, I’m…no dressed.”

It was cleat that this wasn’t something Mrs. Quinn expected, “Why are you undressed?”

“I’m getting ready for school,” He replied quickly “this is my normal routine, is it not?”

“Yes, but I would hope you would stay home today,” She said “especially after yesterday’s events.”

“I feel better now,” Logan assured, which was true, he actually felt great just really, really hungry and thirsty.

“Well, you don’t have to be in school until 8am so maybe you should rest a little bit more,” She suggested “and if you’re still feeling up to it then maybe you can go to school.”

“Of course, Ummi.” He nodded, even though no one was there to see it.

“But if I find out that you’re even slightly ill, you’re staying home,” Mrs. Quinn said firmly “understood?”

“Understood.” Logan agreed, best not to argue least she come in her and find Logan in his sticky situation.

“Good,” She sighed “go back to sleep love, I’ll be by to check on you soon. Babá and me have to leave to work a little early today so I want you to make sure you’re completely fine to go to school, okay?”

“Yes Ummi,” Logan sighed and with one last get well his mother departed down the hall. Finally. Logan’s muscles relaxed, not realizing how tense he had been, and he felt his hand slip from the metal bars it was attached to.

Logan blinked in confusion, standing up carefully and walking to a nearby wall. He decided to experiment a little, placing his hand on the wall and tensing the muscles in his fingers, just a bit. Like he predicted it stuck solidly onto the wall, he relaxed and his hand slipped free. He did this a few times more, first with one hand, then with two then with his feet before deciding to see what would happen if he pulled himself up. Logan was able to lift himself a few inches off the floor with nothing but his hands and feet holding him in place somehow.

“Holy shit.” He whispered to himself.

Logan looked to the little spider scuttling around in it’s jar as it effortlessly crawled up and down the sides. He wondered…he detached one hand and lifted it further up, same with the other hand, right foot, left foot, and soon enough he was hanging upside down from his ceiling.

“Something is definitely not right.” Logan breathed out anxiously, wondering how the hell the others were taking to this.

---

Something was definitely not right with Patton. First of all, he woke up tangled in his bed sheets which wasn’t unusual for the most part but it was much more difficult to get out of this morning since everything kept sticking to him. By the time he was able to detach himself from everything he was standing (hanging???) sideways on the besides his bed. Needless to say, he freaked out and spent half an hour trying to get unstuck only to drop back down on his bed and get tangled in his sheets again.

Defeated, Patton settled starfish style on his carpet floor, half the sheet clinging onto his leg as well as other thing such as papers and markers and socks sticking to other parts of his body. Patton really wanted to cry, he had no idea what was going on or what to do about it. But he knew crying wouldn’t do him any good so he took a few deep breaths to calm himself.

In for four…hold for seven…out for eight…

“I wonder why no one has come into my room yet?” Patton wondered aloud, especially with all the ruckus he was causing.

He lifted himself off the floor, not noticing the things he had stuck too start to slowly slip off, reaching over on his night stand for his phone. He clicked it on and found a few messages from his brother Georgie but aside from that he looked to the date and found that it was Wednesday. It explained a lot, Wednesdays were the busiest for his family with his parents’ bakery always filling up, Alex is having the morning shift at his part time job before heading to university, and Georgie opening up at the dinner he worked at. He quickly opened up his text messages.

Georgeous: ma said shed get off work early if ur still sick

Georgeous: theres soup & crackers at your desk if ur hungry

Georgeous: also water

Georgeous: ma also said u dont have to go to school today if u dont wanna

Georgeous: doc said u should take it easy

Ever the doting older brother Georgie was, always looking out for Alex and Patton even if they could get on his nerves sometimes. He should bake him a cake as a “thank you for dealing with all my oopsies”. Patton sent him a reply along with a few questions.

Baby Shark: thanks but i feel better now

Baby Shark: when did i go to the doctor?

Georgeous: dr. ortega from down the street was alredy coming by to check on romen

Georgeous: turns out he was sick as well

Georgeous: ma asked her to come over when she was done checking him out

Baby Shark: is Ro ok?

Georgeous: yeah doc said it was probably the flu going around an it just got to u 2 realy hard

Georgeous: why didnt u tell us u were feeling sick?

Patton thought for a moment, how could he explain that he hadn’t been feeling sick at all up until yesterday afternoon after…after he got that bug bite. Then that weird dream he had just before he woke up stuck to the wall and tangled in his sheets. How was he supposed to explain that things kept sticking to him and that the world seemed much more sharp now?

Baby Shark: i didnt notice it much

Baby Shark: and when i did i just thought it would pass with a good nights sleep

Baby Shark: i didnt want to bother anyone if it was nothing

Patton didn’t like lying to people but he just had no idea what was going on and he doubt anyone else did either. This would just cause them to freak out and then what? More doctors? Would the government get involve? Were they gunna make him a science experiment now that he’s a freak?

Georgeous: still next time tell us even if its just a stomach ache

Baby Shark: ok

Baby Shark: i g2g and get ready for school

Georgeous: r u sure?

Baby Shark: yeah i feel a lot better now promise <3

Georgeous: ok but if u feel sick just call me an i’ll pick u up ok?

Baby Shark: ok bye love u <3

Georgeous: love u too

Patton sighed, flopping back on the floor. He felt sick again but not like before, this was a different kind of sick. A guilty pit in his stomach kind of sick that probably won’t go away any time soon. Oh well, he couldn’t change anything now, might as well move on with his day. First things first, he had some thank you cookies to make.

He lifted his phone to check the time, 7am, plenty of time to do a quick batch of peanut butter cookies and scones. He should hurry so he could go check on Roman afterwards, he did look a little down when they were walking home yesterday.

“I wonder…” Patton said aloud again as he stood up to get dress. He placed his phone back down on his night stand and noticed his glasses sitting beside his lamp. Patton blinked as he felt his face and found he indeed was not wearing his glasses and yet the world looked crystal clear as if he was.

“Oh geez…”

---

Virgil was very thankful that it was Wednesday, everyone always goes to work early on Wednesday since it was the middle of the week and for some reason Manhattan decided to be a world of chaos. He was also thankful that he grandmother was a heavy sleeper because he had no idea how he was going to explain this!

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Virgil cursed as he desperately tried to unstick his feet and left hand from the ceiling. He had no idea how this happened or why it was happening he just knew that he wanted to get unstuck now!

Knock! Knock!

“Piglet, are you awake?” His grandmother called from behind the door.

“Uh, yeah,” Virgil squeaked “b-but, um, don’t come in I-I don’t have a shirt on!”

It was true, during his earlier struggle to get unstuck from his bed, which he at first thought was sleep paralysis, his hands got stuck to his shirt and tore it open when he was trying to unstick them.

“Well, I was just wondering if you wanted breakfast,” She said “I could make you a warm broth so as not to upset your stomach.”

“N-no thanks Mama,” Virgil said quickly, finally able to get his hand free “I’ll just have something at Logan’s house before I go to school.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” His grandmother questioned sternly “You were very sick yesterday and the doctor said to take it easy.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure,” He fibbed as he wondered when he had gone to the doctor.

“If you’re sure,” She said skeptically “just make sure you two don’t eat anything too heavy. I heard Logan got sick last night as well, the doctor said it was a passing seasonal bug.”

“Okay, sure thing,” Virgil gulped “I’m gunna get ready now, don’t worry about me.”

“We will always worry about you, Piglet,” His grandmother said gently “it’s what families do.”

And with that she was gone and Virgil was beyond relieved. Then he fell off the ceiling. He was thankful for the dirty clothes pile in the middle of his room that softened his fall but he also cursed it because that means more stuff got stuck to him.

He groaned, “Come on, come on! Unstick, unstick!”

He hopped around the room like a lunatic and was only able to shake off a few articles of clothes before he tripped. The fall wasn’t as soft this time but at least the floor was carpeted at least so he didn’t knock his head that badly. He had landed near his dresser drawer where JD’s tank rested on, the tarantula in question was practically pressed up against the glass and hissing worriedly at his owner’s misfortune.

“Hey buddy,” Virgil groaned as he pulled himself up to be eye level with the tank and all who inhabit it “I’m okay, don’t worry. Though I’ll be honest, I have no idea what’s going on.”

“Hurt! Master hurt!” JD chittered as he paced anxiously in his tank.

“I’m good really, you hungry?” Virgil asked before he paused to process what just happened. Did…did his tarantula just talk to him? No, no, it couldn’t be, he just hit his head too hard. Right?

“Food!” JD cheered excitingly as he scurried around his food bowl patiently waiting for something to drop.

Virgil’s eyes widen in shock, completely frozen in place as he stared at his pet tarantula who was excitingly chanting “Food, food, food!”. He noticed that there were little waves of colors radiated off JD like a sort of technicolor halo. It was all getting to be a bit too much.

JD scuttled back to the front of the tank, a confused look in his eyes, “No food?”

Virgil yelped, accidently launching himself backwards towards his desk where he got stuck again. God damn it! Papers flew around were everywhere and Virgil couldn’t see, he stubbled around not knowing where he was going as he tried to desperately to get things to stop sticking to him.

“Stop sticking god damn it!” He growled as he finally got the last piece of paper off of his face. His relief was short lived because to his horror he was not in his bedroom anymore but on the standing perpendicular to the side of his building. “Keep sticking! Keep sticking!”

He was about a foot away from the fire escape near Logan’s window and Virgil contemplated weather or not he had enough courage to jump over or if his stupid sticky body would even allow that to happen. Still, he tried, carefully shifting one foot in front of the other until he had inched his way over the fire escape. Thankfully, it was only then that his stickiness decided to abandon him as he fell onto hard metal. Virgil groaned, it surprisingly didn’t hurt as bad as he thought it would but it still hurt pretty fucking bad.

He heard the window above him open up and his head tingled when he saw Logan poke his head out, looking around before finally spotting him below. The waves of color were back but this time they were brighter and loud like some sort of signal. Logan was a mesh of blue and cool grey and by the look he was giving him Virgil was just as colorful.

Logan seemed to think deeply for a moment, his mouth a straight line of concentration, “I can assume my theory was correct.”

“What theory?” Virgil groaned as he slowly sat up, rubbing his sore head. He’d be lucky if he didn’t get a concussion after all of this.

Ignoring his question, Logan grabbed Virgil’s arm before he could warn him and pulled, “Come inside.”

“Wait!” Virgil was pulled into the room quite effortlessly as if he weighed nothing to Logan. Which wasn’t all that hard to believe, Virgil had always been a thin guy plus he was a dancer so that wasn’t helping with anything. But not to say Logan was weak but seeing as the most physical activity this guy does is walk to and from school, he should have had at least a little trouble getting Virgil inside.

“You’re not gunna believe this but JD talked to me and I fell from side of the building because I got stuck!” Virgil blurted out in one breath.

“Yes, I know,” Logan said coolly “I need you to relax.”

“How the hell do you want me to relax?!” Virgil screeched “I just fell from the wall and I’m sticking to everything!” To emphasize his point, he shook his hand which was now stuck on too Logan’s arm.

“I know,” Logan repeated “it’s been happening to me too but you need to calm down if you want to get unstuck.”

“How do you know?” Virgil cried, thoroughly done with this whole day and it hadn’t even started.

“Because I’ve been testing myself since 5am ever since I woke up stuck to the head board of my bed frame then proceeded to fold it and unfold it like it was paper!” Logan shot back, seemingly frustrated as well “Now breath!”

Virgil finally shut up and listened, breathing in for four…hold for seven…out for eight…then again, a few more times until he was able to unstick himself from Logan’s arm. He leaned back against Logan’s desk, wrapping his arms around himself as he anxiously looked towards Logan for answers. “What’s going on?”

Logan looked tired, his hair was messy and he had bags under his eyes but he looked determined, “I have few theories, mainly surrounding the spider that bit us.”

“Spider?” Virgil said, it couldn’t possibly be the same one from yesterday could it?

“Yes,” Logan said, grabbing a jar from behind Virgil and thrusting it in his face. Inside was the same spider from yesterday scurrying around the now web filled jar. “It’s from the same spiders we saw at the lab at Oscorp. Most likely the one that escaped.”

Virgil tilted his head curiously, “I thought the tour guide said it was back in the lab?”

“Obviously not,” Logan said deadpan.

“Trapped! Free!” The spider hissed causing Vigil to jerk back, kicking his leg up at the jar as Logan fumbled to grab it again.

“It fucking talked!” Virgil shrieked.

“Yeah, no shit!” Logan snapped, placing the jar near one of the shelves furthest from the panicking teen “I thought we established that with your spider!”

“Why is it talking?” Virgil snapped back.

“It’s not,” Logan sighed, straightening himself out as he reached to adjust his glasses only to realize he wasn’t wearing them “our sense have been enhanced to see and hear things better which in turn means we can hear certain frequencies better. It has been theorized that insects have their own language but the frequency at which it’s at it too high for normal human ears to pick up. What we’re hearing is a weak and choppy frequency so we’re only able to make out a few words.”

“Ah-huh,” Virgil nodded, still slightly freaking out “so what does this have to do with, mmh, everything else!”

“Don’t you see?” Logan said “We’ve been enhanced with artificial spider DNA! The venom injected into us was supposed to kill us but it instead latched on to our genetic coding and mutated us!”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Virgil rubbed his face anxiously “so, what your saying is we have spider-based superpowers like…like Rainbow Weaver?”

“Basically,” Logan shrugged “though all I’ve been able to find now is our abnormal adhesiveness, above average strength, slight sensitivity to radio waves, slightly larger range in frequency, faster reflexes, acute awareness and, as you’ve noticed, perfect eye vision.” He gestures towards his glassless face as evidence.

Virgil ran a trembling hand over the left side of his head, “This is crazy, this is impossible, this…this…” He tugged at his hair and realized “my hand is stuck.”

“Relax,” Logan soothed “you were able to get it unstuck before, you can do it again.”

“And if I can’t?” Virgil squeaked, panic beginning to rise once more.

Logan bit his lip nervously, “We’ll think of something.”

---

There was a note on Roman’s dresser from his mother when he woke, he tried to read it but he was stuck to his sheets and as well as a few other things when he came tumbling out of bed. Notebooks, scrap papers filled with important theater notes, dirty clothes, make up, and any other thing his body made contact with. At first, he thought it was a prank done by the twins but it seemed a bit excessive and a little to advanced. Plus, how would they even do that? Getting Roman to stick to everything without using some sort of glue?

Roman was able to rip most of the things off of him and finally walk over to the dresser. He didn’t risk touching it though, much too scared he’ll get stuck again, so he merely peered down at the note filled with his mother’s careful handwriting.

Descansa un poco, mi amor, el doctor dijo que tenías una enfermedad que había estado dando vueltas. Patton también lo tiene, pero he oído que ahora está bien, solo necesita descansar. No vayas a la escuela si no te apetece. Hay un caldo en el refrigerador para calentar si tienes hambre.

-Mamá

Roman squinted at the not confused, when had he gone to the doctor? When did Patton get sick? What the hell was going on? Billions of questions swirled in his head causing Roman a painful headache or maybe it was because he was super hungry? Either way he needed to get out of his room. Roman marched to the door and yanked it open but found that he was now stuck to the door knob.

“Pinche manos pegajosas!” Roman cursed as he tried to yank he’s hand off the door knob only to pull it off with him. He sucked a painful breath through his teeth though it wasn’t because he was hurt, more it had to do with the landlord finding out and charging them for the damage later. Roman fixed it the best he could for now before carefully side stepping around the door into the hall. He breathed a sigh of relief as he leaned back against a wall contemplating what was going on with him and how he was going to pay back the broken door knob.

How had he even done that? Sure, Roman liked to brag that he was athletic and junk, which he was, but even he wasn’t that strong to tear a door knob off it’s wooden frame. Also, he was really jittery, like there was a constant buzz at the back of his head that made him super aware of everything around him. Was this how his mother felt with four kids running around the house?

His stomach rumbled, train of thought gone and replaced with the want of food. So, Roman moved to stand from the wall, well, he tried, he was stuck again. A loud groan left his lips as he made the mistake to use his hands to push himself off. No surprise they stuck to so he used his feet…you see where this is going? Long story short he did end up making it to the kitchen but for some reason he ended up stuck to the ceiling, dangling by only his left foot. Which is how Patton found him.

“Roman?” Patton entered into the apartment dressed and ready for school with two bags of cookies neatly wrapped in clear plastic. There were swirls of baby pinks and blues radiating around him like a sort of weird halo of light. It buzzed and sang with in a weird yet familiar tune that was just…all Patton. Patton must have been able to see it too because he had this sort of curious looked as he continued to stare at Roman for a long time. Then Roman remembered the situation he was in, “Help!”

“Oh dear.” Patton sighed, snapping out of his trance and placing his cookies on the coffee table near the living room before heading over to inspect the situation. He grabbed onto his friends dangling arms and looked him straight in the eyes, “Roman, I need you to calm down.”

“How do you expect me to be calm right now?” Roman shrieked “I’m hanging upside down by my foot! From the ceiling! What even is going on?!”

“I’m not sure,” Patton replied calmly “but all I know is as soon as I started to calm down things started unsticking. So, I assume it’s going to be the same for you.”

“W-what? You too?” Roman asked a bit less panicked, it was good to know he wasn’t alone in this strange situation.

“Yes,” Patton soothed “then when I started stress baking everything stopped sticking. I’m guessing if you’re too anxious or tense it just gets out of control. So, I need you to try and calm yourself, deep breaths, you can sing a little bit if it helps.”

Roman took a few deep breath, trying to qualm his shaking nerves before starting to hum a little tune, “Isn't it lovely, all alone?/ Heart made of glass, my mind of stone/ Tear me to pieces, skin and bone/ Hello, welcome home.”

Finally, he unstuck and flopped right into Patton’s arms who, surprisingly, was able to carry him without any trouble. After being carefully set back on his feet once more Roman began to freak out again, “What the fuck is happening?!”

“I’m not sure,” Patton said, anxiously rubbing his hands “I just woke up sticking to everything and the world seems like it’s moving in slow motion and I can see without my glasses and none of my cute clothes fit me anymore!” He pouted, gesturing down towards his favorite jeans that had flowers embroidered at the cuffs and up the sides which used to fit Patton perfectly but now land few inches above his ankles.

Roman gazed sympathetically at his friend, had been ready to assure him that he still looked very cute only to be cut off by his rumbling stomach. “Dear God I’m starving.”

“I know what you mean,” Patton replied as his own stomach rumbled “I ate the soup my mom made me plus all the left overs plus the first batch of cookies I made and I’m still hungry!”

“I’ll be willing to share my soup and left over with you if you make me cookies later,” Roman bargained “I’d ask for those you brought over but I know those are special.”

Paton flushed red, quickly changing the conversation, “D-deal, we’ll eat then head off to school and…maybe find someone who can help us afterwards.”

“Like who?” Roman questioned “What other person has been going through the same shit we’ve been going through this morning?”

---

Virgil’s stomach rumbled as he and Logan made their way down the school halls, “For the love of god! We practically cleaned out all the left overs and snacks from both of our apartments and I’m still starving!”

“I’m guessing high metabolism should be added to the list,” Logan said, stopping by a nearby vending machine “Or maybe it’s the fact that our bodies are still going through puberty and the spider DNA has enhanced that as well, or maybe it’s a mixture of both.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Virgil grumbled, carefully pulling down the sides of his beanie “by the way, you couldn’t of thought of anything better to get me unstuck then mutilating my hair?”

Logan rolled his eyes, bending down to retrieve the various treats he had purchased “We tried to get you to calm down for thirty minutes but you still remained tense. What were you gunna do? Stay stuck and let someone find out?”

“You could have at least done a better job!” Virgil snarked, taking the chips and candy bars handed to him.

“I’m not hairdresser,” Logan stated plainly, stuffing half a chocolate bar in his mouth “I did the best I could.”

“Well if this is your best, I don’t want to see your worst,” Virgil grumbled, stuffing a hand full of chips in his mouth “what are we even gunna do after this? Can we do anything? Who can we even tell?”

“Calm,” Logan soothed, a careful hand placed on his friend shoulder “we’ll figure something out. Right now we need to focus on finding Patton and Roman, they must be having just as difficult a time adjusting to their new found abilities.”

“Are you sure they were bitten?” Virgil asked skeptically “What are the odds of the same spider biting all four of us?”

“Patton’s bug bite from yesterday looked similar to ours and I can only assume since Roman was in close proximity to us, he was bitten as well,” Logan explain, readjusting his glasses which now had no lenses “my theory is that he got bitten during detention yesterday, then Patton outside, then you when you arrived home and found the spider, and finally me after I finished talking to my parents. Tell me, when did you start feeling the effects of the venom after you were bitten?”

Virgil thought a moment, “I took a nap and scrolled through Tumblr, my mom called me out for dinner and I was talking to my grandma and then…nothing. It’s all fuzzy after that.”

“Interesting,” Logan hummed “I remember being called out too after I caught the spider, then I sat down and…it’s all a blur from there. From what my parents told me I assume I was somewhat coherent enough to eat and talk, although it was somewhat slurred, then I began to malfunction.”

Virgil snorted, “You’re talking as if you were a computer.”

“It seems the spider is learning with each victim and increasing it’s dosage,” Logan continued, ignoring Virgil’s comment “which would explain why the effects happened faster for me then for you. And I can only assume the same can be said with Roman and Patton seeing as when they were bitten earlier on. But like I said, it is only a theory.”

“A game theory!” Virgil quoted with a laugh causing Logan to quirk and eyebrow “This isn’t a game Virgil.”

“Yeah, I know but I cope with sarcasm and memes,” Virgil grumbled, stuffing more chips in his mouth “sue me…”

Logan sighed, unwrapping another candy bar, “This is going to be a long day.”

---

Down the hall on the opposite side of the school Patton and Roman were having their own conflict. Still hungry after downing all the left overs and munchies they bought at the corner store before coming to school they were currently emptying out the vending machine. They were discussing their current predicament while spitting their purchase.

“How we were able to get here in time I will never know,” Roman grumbled, struggling to stuff his food in his backpack “are you still sticking to thing?”

“Not as much as this morning,” Patton said, finally able to zip his bag before sling it over his shoulder “you?”

“A little, I guess, I don’t know,” Roman sighed, opening a bag of Skittles “it’s just I feel like everybody is staring at us.”

“But there barely anybody in the halls,” Patton said “but I know what you mean. It’s like you can feel them from the inside of the class.”

“Yes!” Roman exclaimed softly “It’s fucking weird!”

The first period warning bell rings and the two friends make the journey down the hall to their class as did the rest of the remaining students in the hall. This whole situation was like some weird fever dream they couldn’t wake from. Their skin buzzed, their ears rang, their senses were just all over the place, it was all very overwhelming. Roman usually reveled in being under the spotlight but at the moment it seemed like there were too many eyes watching him and all he really wanted was to curl up into the nearest dark corner and sleep. He hadn’t had the time or ability to get dressed properly or do his make up and he was still in shock from everything that happened this morning. Patton, the usually cheery social butterfly, didn’t feel so cheery or social at all today. None of his clothes fit him right, everything was either too slow or too fast, and he had to take out the lenses of his glasses which really upset him because they were cute round rose gold glasses with rose tinted lenses and now, they’re ruined!

So busy moping were the two friends that if it weren’t for the tingly sensation at the back of their head, they would have missed Virgil and Logan passing them by. Granted they were distracted by their own conversation as well and were basically snapped into attention by the weird and colorful tingly sensation pulling them towards Patton and Roman. They were all a melting pot of technicolor waves, blending and buzzing with each other in some weird kind of dance. Virgil was a foggy storm of blacks and purples and white lighting which in theory should be dark and hard to see but was for some reason bright and beautiful. Roman was a swirl of bright white with streaks of red and gold dramatically singing a beautiful melody. Logan was a cool blend of dark blues and greys, a normally dull combination but it structured itself with such formality and care it was an exquisite display of stars. Patton was a pop of cotton candy pinks and soft blues bursting with life and richness, they bloomed like flowers in the spring time.

“You’re like me!” They said in unison.

It was then that they noticed they were still in the hall and even though there weren’t that many people around there were still people. Logan, with his quick thinking, ushered them all into the nearby boy’s bathroom and corralled them into the large stall near the back. Everyone was freaking out.

“You’re all colorful!” Patton said in awe.

“What’s going on?” Roman hissed.

“Why the fuck would I know?!” Virgil snapped.

“Shut up!” Logan demanded and the room was silent “I have a few theories, first off-”

The sound of a toilet flushing caught their attention, finally realizing they weren’t as alone as they thought. They tensely waited for whoever was out there to finish washing up and exit. The sound of boots echoed throughout the bathroom as the faucet opened and close multiple times. The hand drier blazed to life and for a moment the four teens thought they’d finally be safe until a familiar slimy voice said: “I know you nerds are in here!”

“God fucking damn it!” Virgil mouthed furiously, Dolion messing with them again is the last thing they need right now.

“Don’t think I couldn’t here your whispering,” Dolion hissed “what, are you here to fuck me over again? I already have another detention because of you assholes!”

The bang of a nearby stall door was heard then another and another each getting closer and closer towards them. Dolion growled, “Come out, come out, where every you are! Fucking cowards!”

The group didn’t know what they were so nervous for, what would Dolion do? Take them all on? And even if he did, they would just tell Mr. Larry and he would get in trouble again. Maybe it was the fact that they were all kind of lowkey scarred of Dolion, dude was a big guy, or maybe, just maybe, it was because they had weird mutant spider powers that they didn’t know what to do with and wouldn’t know the outcome of what would happen if Dolion tried to fight them now. But just as Dolion was nearing the last stall door the tingly sensation in the back of their heads told them to jump and so they did without hesitation.

The last stall door was kicked open, Dolion entered with a sneer and saw that it was completely empty. He did a double take, looking around confused, so certain he had heard people come in, that he had heard them come in. Shaking his head in irritation Dolion left the stall and marched out of the bathroom with a huff.

Meanwhile, clustered up on the ceiling, right above where Dolion had stood, were Patton, Roman, Virgil, and Logan who all let out a sigh of relief. “That was close.”

Then there was a loud creek and Virgil gulped, “Oh no.”

They all came crashing down along with the flimsy white ceiling tile that held them up their in the first place. They landed on the filthy bathroom floor with a thwap while the ceiling tile crumbled in half.

Roman groaned, “This is the fucking worst.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Logan grumbled as he lifted himself from the floor “we shall further discuss the matter after school.”

“What do you mean after school?” Roman balked “I want to know what’s going on now!”

“Hey, genius, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I don’t think a public restroom in a high school is the best place to discuss our…condition.” Virgil snapped.

“They’re right Roman,” Patton butted in before his friend could reply “who knows what will happen if someone were to find out. Especially, Dolion.”

“Ugh, fine,” Roman sighed, he couldn’t say no to Patton’s puppy dog eyes “where shall we meet then?”

“On the roof.” Logan said.

“Why the roof?” Virgil and Roman asked simultaneously.

“It’ll be empty and secluded once clubs are over everyone has gone home,” Logan replied coolly “which I’m assuming all of you have, right? A club to attend, I mean.”

“Yes, I have culinary club,” Patton said “we’re working on the bake sale for Friday night’s game.”

“Shit, yeah, I have dance,” Virgil said then groaned “Ms. Green is gunna make me work double time for missing yesterday.”

“You dance?” Roman asked surprised.

“Uh…yeah,” Virgil rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment before snapping to the defensive “Is there a problem with that?”

Roman raised his hands up in surrender, “You think I, the theater geek, would be one to judge?”

“Well, you have with a lot of other things so excuse us if we’re a little surprised.” Logan chimed in.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Roman snapped.

“Exactly what I just said,” Logan said nonchalantly “anyways, I myself have debate club so we all should finish up at around the same time.”

“Hey, don’t just brush me off!” Roman said, frustration evident on his face.

“What use is there to continue on that topic?” Logan asked “It’s not important to our current situation.”

Ignoring Logan’s statement Roman continued his rant, “Are you saying that I judge people based on how they look and what they like to do?”

“Yes,” Logan said bluntly “now can we please move on?”

“It’s not true!” Roman cried.

“Speaking from past experiences talking to you that’s highly unlikely,” Logan huffed “especially with Virgil.”

Roman glared at the bespectacled teen, “I don’t-”

“Hey, now,” Patton stepped in once more “I know Roman can be a bit eccentric and talk a big game at times but that doesn’t mean he out right judges’ people without getting to know their character a little bit. You assuming that he does is a bit judgy of you now, isn’t it?”

Logan gulped nervously at the glare? Pout? Patton was giving him and he immediately felt guilty, “I…guess so.”

“And Roman,” Patton turned to his best friend with the exact same look “maybe sometimes you’re a bit too quick to assume certain things about people. Speaking your mind is one thing but sometimes you can be kind of rude.”

“You’re right, Pat,” Roman sighed, rubbing his tired eyes “I don’t mean to pick fights it’s just…I’ve had a long morning.”

“I know,” Patton said, eyes softening once more “so have the rest of us but that doesn’t mean we should start turning against each other. We need to stick together, we’re probably the only people on earth that know what each of us is going through right now. So, weather we like it or not we’re a team and we have to have each other’s backs.”

“Falsehood.” Logan said suddenly.

Virgil sighed, irritably, “Lo, don’t start up again…”

“No, I mean that we aren’t the only ones alone in this.” Logan corrected, all eyes were on him again, curious and anticipating.

The last warning bell rung and the four teens were uncertain if they should stay hidden and listen to what Logan had to say or start booking it to class. Thankfully, Logan decided for them, “After school, on the roof, don’t be late. Come on Virgil.”

And with that they all scurried out of the bathroom and raced to their first period.

---

It was almost comedic how none of them ever noticed how many classes they had together. Like aside from their electives they all basically had the same classes together. Roman and Patton usually sit in the back of the class near the window, easier to get away with napping and passing notes, while Logan and Virgil sat near the center where they could easily blend into the crowed and not be called on as often by the teacher. Though that still wouldn’t stop Logan from raising his hand and blurting out answers and corrections. Point being they’ve never noticed each other before, they were in their own world doing their own thing with other students filling in for background noise. But now with their new freakish mutant powers they couldn’t not notice each other, especially with their weird colored auras buzzing and lighting them up like a fucking beckon.

It was like that all day, in every class, they tried to play it off like it was nothing, like nothing has changed and they’re in their own world but it didn’t work. They just kept fucking staring at each other and it didn’t matter if they were subtle about it or not because that stupid zing at the back of their heads would go off every time, they would feel eyes on them, and they knew! They all knew but they kept doing it anyway! Why? Because what else could they do?

Lunch came and went, an internal struggle within each of them debating weather on not they should sit with each other. They had no reason to do so other wise unless they used the excuse of that school field trip project but even then, that was flimsy and suspicious. They did not need anyone else suspecting them of hiding something when Dolion was already on their case.

Speaking of which, Dolion had been keeping an especially close eye on all of them all day. He wasn’t in all of their classes but he was in most and aside from each other they could practically feel his eyes burrowing in to the back of their heads. It did not help that this mutant power made them feel ten times more aware of themselves and the things around them. Their skin crawled when someone would accidently brush against them, they’d flinch when the bell rang, they’d race to their next class to get out of the crowed halls because it was so jam packed with people and noise and smells and they just couldn’t breathe.

Virgil was having the worst time out of all of them. His anxiety got bad sometimes and even on good days it could sneak up on him and leave him with a shitty day but this…this was the fucking worst! He kept accidently sticking to things and Logan had to say behind and help him out and that just made him feel even worse and caused them to be even more late for class.

Roman and Patton watched them from the sidelines, out of sight but never out of range. They weren’t too sure if they should intervene or mind their own business so they just lurked around like creeps. They figured if Logan or Virgil needed help, they would ask them and in turn they would do the same. Still, the day passed and none of them said a word to each other. Not even Logan and Patton who were stuck as lab partners. What would they even say?

“Yeah, nice weather we’re having, also do you think we’ll grow extra limbs now that we have mutant bug powers?”

Electives were the only classes they had by themselves and some how that was an even worse distraction. At least with four other people flashing like beckons you knew someone was right there when you needed them because they would understand your situation. But being alone, surrounded by other students, trying to act normal when you know that is far from the truth, is just horrible. How the hell were they going to get through their club meetings?

---

Patton never thought he would dread going to culinary club but here he was hiding behind the nearby lockers debating weather or not he should just bail and wait on the roof by himself. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending how you look at it, he didn’t have to decided because one of the girls from his club spotted him.

“Hey Patton, it’s good to see you,” Her name was Valerie and she was the sweetest person Patton has ever met “we missed you yesterday, where’d you go?”

“Oh, uh, hi Valerie,” Patton fiddled bashfully with the end of his shirt “I-I got detention.”

“What? Why?” Valerie asked, quite shocked “Out of everyone in this school you’d be the last I’d ever expect to get detention.”

Patton became red with embarrassment, “Well…Dolion played a prank on me and I kind of freaked out. A friend of mine named Logan stood up for me and kind of scolded him but then Dolion got mad and wanted to fight him. Then me and my other two friends, Roman and Virgil, were trying to break them up but then Mr. Larry came in and saw. So, he gave us all detention but it didn’t go on our records and Dolion got extra detention this weekend.”

“Gosh, that must have really sucked,” Valerie said sympathetically.

Patton shrugged, “I just feel bad that I got all my friends in trouble because of something so dumb.”

“Hey now,” Valerie said sternly “it’s not your fault that Dolion was being a jerk and picking on you. Plus, your friends really care about you Patton, they don’t want to see you in distress.”

“Yeah, but I wish I could have done something more then just stand there,” Patton said glumly “if it hadn’t been for them I probably would of ran off crying.”

“Aw Patton,” Valarie sighed “sometimes you’re much too sweet for your own good. And sometimes that sweetness can cause you trouble but you have to remember, you’re worth standing up for.” she reached over and gently grasped his hand, “It’s okay not to feel happy all the time too.”

“Yeah I know,” Patton sighed “it’s just…”

“I know, I know, you don’t want to worry anyone,” She smiled sadly “you must have had a really bad morning to be able to rant to me.”

“I’m sorry.” He apologized.

“No, don’t be,” She assured “it’s good to talk about your problems, it’s a good way to help air out your feelings.”

“Well, thanks for letting me rant.” Patton chuckled.

“Any time,” Valarie replied “now we should get going, the meeting is going to start soon. Also, you never got around to teaching me that lemon square recipe.”

“Oh gosh, that’s right,” Patton said “I am so sorry, I was going to teach you yesterday but then detention and-”

“It’s fine, Patton,” Valarie soothed before he could continue “you have plenty of time to teach me to day if the meeting doesn’t run too long.”

“Absolutely.” Patton beamed, though it wasn’t totally genuine. He was still very stressed and anxious to be in a room full of people alone. Though out in the empty halls talking with Valarie had been nice so it gave Patton a little bit of hope he could do this. But that had just been them alone, what would he do when he was in room full of students and loud baking utensils? Patton gulped as he followed Valarie into the culinary class room and for once hoped for a short meeting.

---

“One, two, three! One, two, three! Virgil, you’re off again!” Ms. Green sighed as she turned off the stereo. The entire class groaned, this was the third time they had to start the routine over because Virgil kept missing a step or getting off beat or something. It was seriously starting to stress him out more then he already was. Usually doing ballet helped calm his anxiety but right now with all the weird shit happening to his body it’s doing the exact opposite.

“Take five!” Ms. Green announced and the class disbursed into mindless chatter.

Virgil sighed tiredly as he began to trudge back to his bag near the back of the dance studio only to be stopped by Ms. Green. “Mr. Storm, please come here a moment.”

Virgil whined pathetically as he slowly made his way over to his dance instructor who looked very frustrated, “Yes, Ms. Green?”

“What’s going on with you today?” Her frustrated frown morphed into one of concern once she saw Virgil’s distressed face.

“Uh,” Virgil tugged at once side of his beanie nervously “I’m just not…feeling too great. I-I mean, I didn’t feel great last night so it’s kind of…lingering?”

“Is it because of your detention yesterday?” Ms. Green asked, she didn’t look mad or disappointed as Virgil previously thought, just curious.

“Kind of,” Virgil fibbed “there was a bug, I mean, there is a bug going around the school. Not a real bug, of course, like a cold and flu bug. Yeah, like that. Uh, I was sick and the doctor said it was a bug.”

Nailed it.

Ms. Green corked an eye brow suspiciously, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Virgil said a little too quickly before sighing “I’m fine, just…gotta find my rhythm again. It’s still getting out of my system…the bug.”

“Ah-huh,” Ms. Green nodded slowly “you’re lucky you don’t compete in anything. Although you really should.”

Virgil gave her a weary smile, having had this conversation too many times before and not wanting it to have it today of all days. Ms. Green kept on insisting that Vigil enter in dance competitions or audition for the production of Swan Lake they’d be doing in the spring. But Virgil kept rebutting that if he could barely get through a simple dance recital without vomiting on stage there was no why he’d be able to last through a four-act performance.

“Still not my thing Ms. Green.” He replied with a tight smile.

Ms. Green sighed, quickly dropping the subject, “Alright, go take five. Stretch out and be ready to go again. Start getting focused.”

“You got it.” Virgil gave her a thumbs up as he began to walk backwards towards his bag. He heard his stomach rumble for the fifth time and groaned as he searched through his backpack for any more chips.

“Skip out on lunch?” A voice asked from behind.

Virgil turned to find Terrance smiling at him with an extra water bottle shoved near his face. He quickly took it before addressing his question, “No, why do you ask?”

“That is a lot of wrappers,” Terrance pointed towards Virgil’s bag which was overflowing with candy and chip wrappers like some sort of volcano “I’m guessing you’re the one that emptied out the vending machine near hall B?

Virgil flushed, embarrassed as he stuffed the wrappers back in his backpack, “N-no, this was breakfast.”

Terrence frowned disapprovingly, “That’s pretty unhealthy.”

“Don’t worry, that’s not the worst thing that’s happened today.” Virgil assured as he finally found one last candy bar and stuffed it in his mouth. Before Terrence could ask what Virgil meant by that Ms. Green was already calling everyone back.

---

Roman loved play rehearsal, seeing things get slowly piece together as the day of the play got closer and closer. And when you finally go on stage its even more amazing then you could ever imagen because you’ve spent months building this from the ground up, costumes, props, lighting, hours and hours of practice. It was all just great and amazing and Roman loved every minute of it!

“Is this a dagger which I see before me,/ The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.” Roman recited.

“Cut!” His director, Mr. Bell, called out “Roman, your blockings off again.”

Just not today…

Roman groaned, “Sorry, sorry, sorry, let’s- can we do it again?”

“It’s okay,” Mr. Bell sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose “let’s all just…take five.”

And with that the house lights went on and the students disbursed to go do their own thing. Actors huddled together to recite lines, techs came down for their box for fresh air and socializing, crew fiddled around with stage and props, and Roman exited stage left towards the dressing rooms.

Roman hated this, his new abilities were throwing him why off balance in both the physical and mental sense. The stage lights burned his eyes, he could here the whispering backstage, the creaking from the catwalk, and all eyes on him. For once in his life Roman did NOT want to be the center of attention.

“Hey girl!” Roman paused to see Remy waving at him as he came down the latter one of the catwalks.

“Hey Remy.” Roman smiled tiredly, he was in no mood to put up a charming persona and thankfully Remy was the type of person that could care less about keeping up appearances. He liked to “keep it real” like that.

“Oh god, you look like shit,” Remy replied once he was on the ground, sipping on a Starbucks cup that he always seems to have with him “what happened?”

Roman inhaled deeply, “So many things that I can even begin to comprehend myself. But I’m fine, really.”

“Woof,” Remy said “must have been some bad shit that went down because you’re usually a one hit wonder out there. But five takes? You sure you okay, boo? I heard what happened yesterday with that dick Dolion.”

“Yeah, it’s all fine now,” Roman sighed as he stretched his arms “just got to shake it off and get centered again.”

“Mmh, okay,” Remy shrugged nonchalantly “but if you ever need me to beat a hoe just ask. I don’t mind dirtying up my new Doc Martens.”

Roman chuckled, “Thanks but no thanks, I’ll keep that in mind though.”

“No prob babe,” Then Remy smirked “also, I saw you and Virgil Storm getting along quite nicely yesterday. Anything going on there?”

Remy laughed as Roman groaned again, flushing a deep scarlet before scurrying away “I’m gunna go practice my lines elsewhere.”

---

“Ethan Zuckerman, Associate Professor and Director of the Center of Civic Media, stated that ‘Social media is critically important in giving voice to communities who’ve been systemically excluded from media – people of color, woman, LGBTQIA people, poor people. By giving people a chance to share their under-covered perspectives with broadcast media, social media has a possible role in making the media ecosystem more inclusive and fair’,” Emile Picani stated proudly “we are in an era where word gets around faster and problems can be caught early on to help fix them. We can share information and opinion that everybody can see and sort out issues much faster because of it.”

“Falsehood,” Logan said as soon as Emile finished “what about the manipulation of public opinion over social media platforms which can eventually lead to a critical threat to public life? Samantha Bradshaw, Researcher on the Computational Propaganda project at Oxford University, wrote a paper about how government agencies and political parties are exploiting the use of social media platforms to spread misinformation, exercise censorship and undermine trust in media, public institution, and science. Science Picani!”

“Yes, but where would we have learned any of this without social media,” Emile rebutted “not a lot of people are too keen on the idea of going to the library and reading research papers. Sometimes, small articles online talking about the issue can help spread awareness to others.”

“Yes, but can’t those same articles spread lies and slander at the same time?” Logan countered “Misleading people once more when they could have easily gotten the information from the source.”

“Who says there aren’t articles and groups dedicated to these ideas?” Emile said “In a hilarious state of irony, these groups came together because of social media, they made connections and helped raise awareness towards a common goal. Now, I’m not saying that social media is perfect but it is an important part of our culture. We should be working forward to improve it instead of tearing it down.”

Silence.

Logan chewed at the end of his thumb nail, absolutely stumped on what he should say. He hasn’t been able to think clearly all day. Everything was too loud and too quiet, to fast and too slow, it was driving him crazy.

The buzzer went off and the sound of Mr. Shelton’s voice boomed throughout the room, “Time. Picani wins. Brake time everybody, then we’ll choose teams for the next topic.”

Logan groaned, letting his head drop against the desk with a loud thud. A shadow loomed over him and he turned his head to the side and came face to stomach with Emile Picani’s yellow sweater. He lazily looked up to see the nervous yet concerned smile on Emile’s face.

“May I help you?” Logan mumbled.

Emile shook his head, “No, I was just wondering…are you feeling okay Logan? You were kind of…struggling to keep up back there.”

“No, I wasn’t,” Logan quickly defended, sitting up straight “I just…have a bit of a cold.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Emile quickly backtrack nervously “but, um, are you sure there’s not something else wrong?”

Curse Emile and his advanced human psychology classes. The kid was already super empathetic as it was as well as the second smartest student at the school. Logan being the first of course.

“What ever do you mean?” Logan said blankly, though inside he was panicking.

“You just seem kind of distracted by…” Emile made a vague gesture with his hands “Everything. Like, you’ve just suddenly realized the world is moving around you. Does that make sense?”

Yes, it did but Logan was not about to admit it because if he did Emile would be able to use that little amount of information to pull everything out of him. Emile wasn’t malicious by any means, next to Patton he was the kindest person you’d ever meet. He just had a way of making people feel comfortable enough to open up about their stress and (ugh) feelings.

So, he lied. “No, it does not make sense.”

Emile stared at him for a minute and Logan tried his best not to squirm under his intense gaze. It felt as if he was trying to search through the inner mechanisms of Logan’s brain just by scanning over his physical form. Finally, he blinked, sighing as he gave Logan a half-hearted smile. “You can be a tough cookie to read sometimes. Then there are other times where you’re an open book. It’s all very confusing.”

Logan didn’t know if he liked that metaphor or not so he just said what he thought was appropriate. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no, no, you have nothing to be sorry about Logan,” Emile assured anxiously “I’m just being nosy and weird.”

“I don’t think you’re weird.” Logan said honestly. Yes, Emile was childish and liked cartoon but he was also extremally smart and one of the few people Logan can properly debate with without having to dumb down his vocabulary.

Emile blushed but gave a wide genuine smile, “Thanks for thinking so. Um, I’ll get out of your hair now.”

Logan nodded as he watched Emile walk away to socialize with the other members. His head returned to the desk, cheek pressed against the cool plastic wood, as he stared at the clock counting down the minutes left until he could meet the others.

---

They all bumped into each other on the third floor, literally, they were so jittery with nerves and excitement they were practically sprinting towards the roof. They were quick to collect themselves before silently making their way up the fourth floor towards the stairs leading to the roof. They didn’t have to stay silent but just as it’s been all day, they had no idea what to say to each other, plus the paranoia that someone could be listening in like in the bathroom this morning.

They quickly filed out onto the wide-open space of the roof top, each standing about five feet apart from each other, not moving just, not talking, just listening. They hear the construction happening down the street but not just the noise of the machine scraping against the pavement but the conversations between coworkers about getting a beer after work. They could sense the movement of scurrying students beneath them as they all hurried to catch up with friends and walk home. They looked into the distant skyline where the city clustered together and they could make out every detail of every building, tree, person, and sidewalk. They could smell the warm pretzels being sold down town, cigarette smoke in cafes, and cheap perfume from the boys locker room. They could taste the bile building in their throats, the world around them becoming too much, it frightened them.

“What’s happening to us.” Virgil whimpered, pulling his jacket tighter around himself.

“I-I have a theory,” Logan stuttered out, taking a deep breath to calm himself “we were all bitten by the same enhanced super spider which had previously gone missing during our field trip to Oscorp yesterday.”

“I thought the guide said it was back in the lab.” Patton squeaked out, frantically looking around for more spiders.

“Yeah, how can you be so sure it’s the same spider?” Roman said skeptically.

Logan slid off his back pack and began rummaging through it until he pulled out a jar full of webbing and a familiar little spider inside. Virgil gawked at his best friend, “You brought it to school?”

“I didn’t trust leaving it at home alone,” Logan stated simply “I feared it would escape.”

“Escape…” the spider hissed “Freedom…”

“It talked!” Roman and Patton shrieked, scrambling backwards a few steps.

“Technically, it didn’t,” Logan said coolly, readjusting his glasses “it’s just that we can now hear at a higher frequency and can now get bits and pieces of conversations from-”

“That’s great Einstein but what does that…thing have to do with how we are now!” Roman cut in, getting more and more frustrated as time went on.

Logan glared at him but decided he was ultimately right and should get to the point, not that he would ever tell Roman that. “If we compare our bug bites, I can assure you that they will all look similar. Assuming that we all suffered the same symptoms afterward, nausea, dizziness, vomiting, memory laps, and/or fainting, then woke up like…this, my hypothesis is that the spider’s venom caused a mutated our DNA.”

“How can you be so sure?” Roman asked, taking a step forward with Patton clinging to the back of his shirt like a koala. Roman was ninety percent sure Patton had gotten himself stuck but that was something to worry about later.

“I mean, the evidence is irrefutable,” Logan said “but to be truly sure I’d have to do a blood test but I currently do not have the equipment for that and neither does the school.”

“Of course, you checked for that,” Virgil sighed, wanting to rub his face but worried his hand would get stuck again “So, what now? Are we gunna take it back to Oscorp or something? Because I’m pretty sure it’ll be mighty suspicious when four teenagers walk up to the front desk carrying a multimillion-dollar spider inside a Crofters jam jar.”

“Cookies!” Patton announced loudly, startling everyone, especially Roman since it was right next to his ear. Patton whispered an apology to his friend before detaching, with a bit of difficulty, from his back and searching through his back pack. He pulled out two clear colorful baggies, one filled with scones and another filled with peanut butter cookies.

Patton stepped forward to gift his friends the cookies only to suddenly stop short, “Um, can you…” he gestured towards the jar in Logan’s hands “p-put it away?”

Logan blinked owlishly before suddenly realizing what he meant and quickly tucked away the creature in his back pack, “Oh, yes, right, your, um, arachnophobia. I apologize for my ignorance.”

“Wow, Logan apologizing,” Virgil gasped in fake awe “that’s a first.”

Logan glared at his best friend but was soon faced to face with a smiling Patton, “I hope you like them. I was going to make them last night but then…ya know, that happened and I was a bit…frazzled this morning. So, tell me if they turn out okay, okay?”

“I’m sure they’ll be quite…adequate.” Logan gulped nervously, Patton was way too close but this wasn’t anything new. Patton seemed to have very little personal space with people he deemed his friends but right now with their newfound abilities he was just a burst of color and energy.

“Let’s hope your right.” Patton giggled before moving towards Virgil who took about two large steps back.

“J-just…put ‘em- on the…the…I’ll get them on the ground.” Virgil stuttered out, his hands moving along with his words as if it would help convey his feelings in the situation at hand.

Thankfully Patton got the hint and smiled warmly as he carefully placed the cookies on the ground before stepping back towards Roman. With a relieved sigh Virgil returned to his spot and picked up the bag, wordlessly nodding his thanks towards Patton.

“So, what are we gunna do?” Roman said, suddenly bursting the friendly atmosphere. He was really on edge right now and it was an overwhelming crushing feeling that just kept growing with every passing minute. “You said earlier this morning that there was someone similar to our situation, who?”

Logan cleared his throat, pulling out his phone and tapping a few things, “Right, well, who is someone that is well known to the public who climbs walls, has super strength, and has sort of spider like tendencies.”

It was silent, the three other teens looked clueless and Logan was just a bit disappointed. He turned to Virgil with a look and said, “Seriously, Virgil?”

“Dude, I can’t remember half the things I’ve done today, okay, everything is just like…” Virgil groaned, waving his arms around “and if I’m honest I’m still kind of freaking out, like, internally and maybe a little bit externally too. I don’t know, give it time.”

“Rainbow Weaver,” Logan said blankly “Rainbow Weaver has these same abilities.”

“Rainbow Weaver?” The trio replied, the wheels finally turning in their head.

“Yes.” Logan nodded.

“Okay, wait,” Roman said “two questions: 1) What makes you think Rainbow Weaver will even consider helping us? And 2) Even if he did, where would we find him?”

Logan continued to tap on his phone before flipping it over to show the other, “According to his fan page on Twitter: on 5th street near main.”

“That’s ten blocks away,” Patton said glumly “we’ll never make it on time.”

“Even if we run that’s at least thirty minutes tops.” Virgil added.

“Anymore bright ideas, pocket protector?” Roman snarked.

“Just about,” Logan said coolly, as he began to collect his things before slinging his backpack securely on himself. He turned a whole 360 degrees before stopping in place and making his way towards the left side of the building. The other’s followed, curious as to what he was looking for, they peered over at a few smaller buildings next door clustered together with signs obscuring the view of the roof tops as they reached higher and higher the deeper you went into the city.

“This’ll do.” Logan said as he began to walk back.

“This’ll do for what?” Virgil asked but he wasn’t answered because Logan was now sprinting back towards them and he wasn’t slowing down.

The others, panicked, blocked his path screaming and begging for him to stop and explain what the hell was going on. But even that did nothing to deter the bespectacled teen because he simply jumped, high. It surprised everyone, including Logan himself, when he was able to leap clear over not only all of them but all the way to the next building. He stumbled on his landing, legs tripping his forward before he was able to finally find his footing. Stunted silence and open mouths were left in his wake before Logan snapped out of his stupor and laughed with all the giddy glee of a child who just met his favorite super hero.

“Oh my god, that was exhilarating!” Logan cheered, waving his arms over at his friends “Come on! Come on! You gotta – you gotta do this!”

“You’re fucking crazy!” Virgil wheezed out, gripping onto the side of the building for dear life.

Roman chewed at his bottom lip before finally sighing and running back, “Fuck it.”

“W-wait, Roman, kiddo!” Patton squeaked “Shouldn’t we think this over first?”

“I did think it over,” Roman said, setting himself up for a running start “and I’m not gunna let iDork get ahead of me.”

“You’re both crazy!” Vigil shrieked.

Roman didn’t answer, instead he charged forward, wind whipping his hair and adrenaline pumping throughout his body. He got to the ledge and quickly used it as leverage to leap up, floating in mid air for just a moment before he came rocketing down towards the roof. He didn’t land as far as Logan but he had a much better landing, legs bent as he shakily straightened himself out. Roman looked towards Logan who was smiling like a mad man and Roman couldn’t help but join in his excitement.

“Holy shit you guys!” Roman exclaimed, jumping up and down “You have to try it! It’s amazing!”

Patton gulped nervously before looking towards Virgil, who was just about ready to have an aneurysm. He extended a nervous hand towards the emo boy and asked begged, “Jump with me.”

“What?” Virgil’s voice cracked as he took a step back “Are you serious?”

“Yes, no, kind of…” Patton whimpered “I don’t wanna do this alone! I’m scared a-and you’re scared too. B-but Logan and Roman were able to do it and more then likely we’ll be able to do it too, s-so with both of us pushing us off we’ll have a better chance of landing safer. Right?”

Virgil looked at Patton like he was insane (which he was!) staring between his face and the hand extended towards him. Finally, after a long silence, Virgil sighed, “Screw it.” And firmly took Patton’s hand as they made there way back towards the center of the building.

“If we fall I’m using you as a cushion,” Virgil threatened, hand squeezing Patton’s tightly “I’m just joking, I’m just…really fucking scared right now.”

“It’s okay,” Patton said warmly, squeezing back just as tight “I am too but you don’t need to jump with me if you don’t want to. I’m sure we can figure another thing out.”

“N-no, no, it’s fine,” Virgil assured quickly “it’s just we gotta do it now before I psych myself out.”

Patton nodded firmly, looking ahead as he and Virgil prepared to sprint forward. They heard shouts of encouragement from Logan and Roman, who were still riding on their adrenaline high, as they began their charge. Blood pumped loudly in their ears, legs picking up traction much faster then they were expecting, and just when Virgil thought he was going to freeze up at the last-minute Patton boosted forward giving him a strong tug before they were finally soaring through the sky. They looked to the sky line, at the busy city and its scurrying people and for a moment it was as if they were flying.

They collapsed into a heaping pile on the roof next door, groaning as Logan and Roman rushed over to help them. Virgil was quick to dust himself off, laughing like a lunatic as he did. “That was awesome!”

“Yeah!” Patton chimed in, jumping to engulf Roman in an excited hug.

“We should be able to reach him if we head this way!” Logan cut in through the excitement, pointing towards the building roof tops heading towards the heart of Manhattan.

The boys looked at each other, momentarily questioning weather this was a good idea, before a sly determined grin spread across their faces and they began to sprint, throwing caution to the wind.

---

“Whooohooo!” Patton screamed joyously as he and his friends ran and jumped across the roof tops at a speed, they did not think was possible for a normal human.

They forgotten the map on Logan’s phone long ago and had no idea where they were going but somehow, they just knew they were going the right way. The tingling sensation at the back of their heads tugged them towards their destination as they enjoyed the rush of wind in their ears and adrenaline in their veins.

They reached their destination in no time but since they did not see their intended target anywhere, they decided to circle around a little to see if they could catch him. Though mainly the boys just wanted to see what they could do with their new-found powers. Climbing up the side of buildings, walking across utility wires, and using abandon construction sights as their own personal jungle gym. Somehow, they ended up on the roof of a pretty tall office building and decided to take a rest.

“Jesus Christ!” Virgil laughed hysterically “We’re so high up!”

“Are you okay?” Logan asked, he was concerned, really, he was, but Virgil’s laughter was contagious and the adrenaline was still buzzing in his system.

“No,” Virgil giggled as he laid down on his back “but give me a minute.”

“Deep breaths, kiddo,” Patton said as he flopped down next Virgil “this is a lot of excitement for one day, even for me.”

“I’ll second that.” Roman agreed as he too joined them on the ground.

Logan shrugged and settled himself between Virgil and Roman, all of them star-fished out in a circle watching the clouds roll by. Silence fell upon them once more as they began to soak in all that had happened to them that day. They weren’t as overwhelmed as they had been that morning, maybe running and jumping across buildings let them take out some of that jittery energy they had stored inside. Don’t get them wrong, they were still kind of freaking out but they were a little more calm about it. Especially since they knew that they weren’t alone in their endeavor. Sure, they might not be able to get Rainbow Weaver to help them but at least they had each other and that was a comfort that they were all truly grateful for.

“Do you think we can shoot spider webs like Rainbow Weaver can?” Roman asked, braking the peaceful silence.

“I’m not quite sure,” Logan said honestly “I tried at home but I just can’t seem to produce anything. Then again, not all spiders can make webs.”

“Hmm, true.” Virgil murmured, eyes closed as he practiced some deep breathing exercises.

Roman sat up, a determined look on his face, “I’m gunna try it.”

“How you gunna do that?” Patton asked, sitting up to face his friend with a slightly worried look in his eyes. Roman had that look again, he always got that look when he had a dangerous idea that would either get him in trouble or injured. It was the same look he had before he jumped off the school roof to chase after Logan.

“Well,” Roman began, hopping up to his feet “first I need to do a test shot. Uh, how does Rainbow Weaver do his…thing?” He began to flex his hand into various positions and poses.

Virgil, who was still on the ground, raised his arm up and did a sort of punk rock gesture, “Like this.”

Thwhip!

Virgil’s eyes snapped open when he heard the sound and felt a sliver of something eject itself from his wrist. He was surrounded by three pairs of shocked eyes as he slowly stood up, looking down at his hand with awe and slight concern.

“Do it again!” Logan said excitedly.

Virgil aimed towards a small utility shed near the other side of the roof and thwiped! A long string of…something shot out from Virgil’s wrist and stuck to one end of the utility shed while Virgil held the other end. “Holy shit!”

“Fascinating,” Logan gasped in awe as he tugged on the silk string “you’re able to create your own webbing and by the feel of it it’s exactly as the guide described it, like steel cables.”

“It feels weird.” Virgil murmured as he detached the end of the string near his wrist.

“I’ll bet.” Roman said, looking over Virgil’s shoulder to get a better look at the webbing.

Patton, meanwhile, was trying to test out if he could do it too, he couldn’t. “Aw, I don’t think it works on me. What about you Roman?”

“Uh, let’s see.” He replied, taking a stance next to Virgil and aiming his arm towards the same shed. He pressed down on his palm with his two middle fingers and…thwip! “Holy shit…that felt weird!”

“I know right!” Virgil chimed in as they all now began to look over Roman’s web string.

“It would seem that me and Patton are incapable of producing web,” Logan deduced “but I’m fairly certain we may be able to produce some sort of silk, as all spiders do. It’s just the means of figuring it out…”

“I’m gunna swing across the other building!” Roman announced suddenly, causing everyone to jump and stare as he raced towards the edge of the building.

They were quickly snapped out of their surprise as they realized what Roman had said and went to chase him down before he did something stupid. Unfortunately, they were not quick enough because Roman had already launched another string of web and was getting ready to jump.

“Roman, wait!” Patton cried.

“It might not be safe!” Logan warned.

“Get down from there you idiot!” Virgil shouted.

“Tally ho!” Roman hollered as he pushed himself off the building and swung through the air.

Roman seemed fine at first, swinging through the air above the busy streets like some sort of extreme swing set. But then he realized, as the building he attached himself to got closer and closer, he had no idea what he was doing or how to stop. The only thing he could do at the moment was shut his eyes, curl up into a ball, and wait for impact. He vaguely recalled hearing the others scream before he was suddenly wooshed up into the air again.

When Roman opened his eyes to see what he had collided with on his way to his impending doom all he could see was rainbow. A rainbow arm holding him tight against a rainbow clad body and when he looked up to see a rainbow masked, white eyed figure a familiar buzzing was felt at the back of his head and he then noticed that the masked figure’s aura was a multi colored light show.

“You’re just like me!” Was all Roman could think to blurt out.

The figure looked down at him, slightly confused, until his eyes widen in sudden realization and he said, “Holy shit, you’re right.”

Once safely back on top of the building Roman was promptly tackled down by a sobbing Patton, “Don’t ever, ever do that again!”

“Yeah, not my brightest moment.” Roman admitted sheepishly.

The reunion was cut short due to a very furious looking Virgil who came stomping over, separated the two friends, then proceeded to punch Roman’s shoulder, hard. The theater geek cried out in protest, taking a few steps back before Virgil could get another swing in, “Ow, what the fuck!”

“You could have gotten yourself fucking killed you moron!” Virgil growled.

“That was very reckless of you, Roman,” Logan added crossly “even for your standards.”

“Oh, sez the one that convinced us to jump off a building,” Roman snapped back “excuse me for trying to follow the ‘smart ones’ lead and thinking this was a good idea.”

“The buildings were closer together and I calculated the right momentum needed to get across!” Logan countered, taking a step towards Roman “Given our new-found abilities it was obvious to be an easy jump!”

“Yeah, for you! How could you have been so certain for the rest of us, smartass?” Roman rebutted, getting up in Logan’s face as well.

“Simple physics really, something that a half wit like you could never understand!” Logan growled.

“Was it really physics or one of your scientific guesses?” Roman sneered.

“It’s called a theory you brainless Neanderthal!” Logan replied.

“Erlenmeyer trash!”

“Drama turd!”

“Cotton headed ninny muggings!”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“Jesus Christ there are four of you!” The masked figure said as he got in between the two fighting teens.

Silence overtook the group as they stared up and finally realized who was talking to them. Clad in a rainbow spider themed suit with a sort of glider/cape mesh between his arms, his aura a burst of bright colors, it was the one, the only…

“R-R-Rainbow Weaver!” Virgil squeaked out, completely star structed.

“Yeah, and who might you guys be? Also, what’s going on with…” Rainbow Weaver gestured towards the group as if pointing out the colorful aura he could also see around them “…everything?”

“R-Rainbow Weaver…” Was apparently all Virgil could say now.

“Is everything okay?” Rainbow Weaver said worriedly as he scanned over the group of teens frozen in awe. Not that he wasn’t use to this but he just kind of figured out that these boys might have super powers like him so he really needed answers like now.

“Um, m-mister Rainbow Weaver, sir, uh…” Logan stuttered out, uncharacteristically shy at the moment, “w-we were actually looking for you but we couldn’t – uh, we were searching the city and someone on Twitter said they saw you here – around here and, uh, we kind of, um, wanted to talk…to you…”

“Take your time kid.” Rainbow Weaver soothed gently, the teen looked like he was getting ready to have a stroke.

“We got bit by a spider!” Patton blurted out before covering his mouth shut.

“Okay, go on.” Rainbow Weaver said with an encouraging nod.

Patton bashfully removed his hands from his mouth, fidgeting in place as all eyes were on him now, “Uh, well, we went on a field trip to a science lab thing in Oscorp where they had these creepy, crawly mutant spiders and one of them had escaped but the tour guide said not to worry because it was probably back in the lab, but it wasn’t, so it escaped and some how bit all of us and then we woke up with weird powers like: we can stick to the wall and jump really high and everything is really loud and bright and we have these weird color auras and I couldn’t fit into any of my cute clothes and we didn’t know what to do so Logan said we should find you and ask cause you have similar powers to us so we jumped off the school building and ran around the city to find you but we couldn’t, then Virgil found out he can shoot web but me and Logan can’t so Roman tried to swing to the next building over and almost died and then you came and I’m really scared right now so can you please tell us what’s going on!”

Patton finally stopped to suck in a big gulp of air having been so nervous he said everything in one breath. Roman went over to rub soothing circles on his distressed friend’s back as Patton regained the ability to breath. Rainbow Weaver, meanwhile, was trying to process all that had been said but also make sure that Patton was doing okay.

“Okay, first, I need you to calm down for me,” Rainbow Weaver cooed, a firm hand on Patton’s shoulder “breath in for four…hold for seven…out for eight…good.”

Once Patton was calmed down some Rainbow Weaver continued, “Second order of business, how old are you guys and what are your names?”

“I’m Roman Marigold and I’ll be seventeen in a month,” Roman answered as he hugged Patton close “this is my best friend Patton Foster and he’s seventeen.”

“I’m Logan Quinn,” Logan pipped up, finally pulling himself together “I’m seventeen as well as my friend Virgil Storm here.”

Virgil gave a shy wave, somewhat hiding behind his taller friend, Rainbow Weaver waved back, a kind smile visible through his mask. It seemed odd how quick the boys were to trust him, even if he was a famous super hero, he was still a stranger. But be it because of their weird aura or the kindness in Rainbow Weaver’s voice the boys knew he could be trusted.

“Okay, third order of business, is the spider that bit you guys dead or still crawling around the city?” Rainbow Weaver asked.

“Oh no, I have it in my backpack!” Logan said, quickly removing his backpack and rummaging around for the jar he had it in earlier.

“Excuse me?” Rainbow Weaver said confused before a jar with a colorful, weird looking spider was shoved in his direction. He took a step back to get a better look at it and vaguely heard Patton whimpering fearfully in the background. He sighed, scratching the back of his head, “Well, that’s just great, Oscorp didn’t learn after the first time it happen.”

“First time?” Logan asked curiously, pulling the jar back towards his chest, the spider skittering nervously.

“How do you think I got like this?” Rainbow Weaver chuckled, hollow and devoid of enthusiasm “But, yeah, this has happened before. A few years back, when I was in high school actually, god only knows what they’ve been able to do now with all the technological advances throughout the years.”

“What do you mean?” Virgil asked, curiosity finally letting him find his voice.

“Well, I-” Rainbow Weaver began but was cut off by four loud rumbling stomachs. His eyes widen with surprise at the blushing teens before bursting out into laughter. “God, you kids must be hungry. Having mutant powers will take a lot out of you, I’ll tell you that, especially if you’re still a growing teenager. How ‘bout we go out and get something to eat and I’ll try to explain everything as best as I can?”

“But don’t you have to watch the city?” Roman asked.

Rainbow Weaver shrugged, “It ain’t going nowhere, besides I have my ways of figuring out if I’m needed or not.”

“Um, are you sure?” Virgil asked timidly “We don’t want to keep you from, you know, important things.”

“Kid, right now this is the most important thing on my list,” Rainbow Weaver assured “I know for sure I would have liked someone to talk to when I was going through all this mess.”

“Um, mister Rainbow Weaver,” Patton chirped “not that we aren’t thankful that you’ll help but wouldn’t we look suspicious walking together on the street or jumping across buildings with you?”

“Not if I’m in civilian clothes, which by the way, I should have a pack here somewhere.” Rainbow Weaver wandered off towards the utility shed across the building and opened it to reveal a plain black backpack squished under an electrical control panel.

“Civilian?” Roman said aloud before realizing what was happening “Wait, isn’t revealing your true identity against some sort of hero’s code or something? I mean, unless you’re the Avengers but-”

“It’s fine,” Rainbow Weaver cut in having already finished changed, they hadn’t even turned away for a full minute! He was wearing some worn, baggy clothes that had probably come from a thrift store and was now stuffing his Rainbow Weaver costume into his bag, all was left was the mask he still had on. “I mean you can’t expect us to have an open honest conversation with each other if I’m hiding behind a mask, right?”

Casually, as if he wasn’t just entrusting four teenagers with his biggest secrete, Rainbow Weaver removed his mask to reveal a familiar face that had Roman and Patton silently squealing, Virgil to be even more star struck, and caused Logan’s jaw to hit the floor. The man before them ruffled his peppered brown hair nervously as he gave a lopsided smile, “Uh, hi, my name is Thomas Sanders…we have a lot to talk about.”

Spanish Spoken:

“Rest a little, my love, the doctor said you had a sickness that had been going around. Patton has it too, but I've heard that he's fine now, he just needs to rest. Do not go to school if you do not feel like it. There is a broth in the refrigerator to heat up if you are hungry.”

“Stupid sticky hands!”

Song mentioned:

Lovely by Billie Eillish

Tag:

@immortaldystopia @metaphoricalpluto2 @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @misunderstood-shadow @fairytailtwists @0callmevirge0

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan #patton #roman #virgil #logicality #prinxeity #princxiety #spiderverse #spiderverse au #fan fic #sander sides fanfiction #tobashiarg!#ch 2

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