#finding more idiots that lived rent-free in my heart have moved back to my brain

[avatarquake]

Being part of many fandoms means you get out-of-the-blue feelies for some really old shit. Like, for example, watching CSI: NY reruns from somewhere between S1-6 and still get hit with the JoxMac feels of S7-9.

[honeyhotteoks]

chai i present this soft hour ask for you of a concept i have not been able to get out of my brain (apologies for this being long </3)

mutual pining with yunho where he's trying to test the waters a bit with you but is still too nervous to put his arm around your shoulder or waist, so instead, he anxiously treats you as his personal armrest O<-<

you're very aware of yunho's close proximity next to you in the small circle you and your friends seemed to have subconsciously formed - and despite his presence making you nervous - you welcome such emotion if it means you could steal small glances of him from beside you.

the sound of your friend's conversations fill the atmosphere before you feel a pressing weight on your shoulder, turning your gaze to yunho's arm resting on your shoulder as if you were his armrest, his hand and fingers dangling in the air next to your face.

he doesn't meet your eyes, but from his peripheral vision he can see you giving him a playful glare, and - no matter how hard he fought it as to appear unaffected by your reaction - he can't help the smile that spreads across his face.

was he testing the waters? technically, yes. was it how he wanted to? not at all. he wanted to put his arm around your shoulders, but chickened out last minute - thinking you might be uncomfortable with a rather... forward advancement - and resorted to a more teasing approach.

matching yunho's expression, you turn to face your friends once again, a grin spreading across your lips - never shooing him away or pushing his forearm from your shoulder.

perhaps he was thinking too much of it; it's not like you two were enemies or strangers. you knew him well and he knew you the same, he shouldn't take you accepting such an approach as you reciprocating feelings, but nonetheless, his heart hoped that you had longed for the same thing he did.

maybe one day he'll gain the courage to put his arm around your shoulder and actually go through with it, but for now, he is more than content with the comfortable place you both found yourselves in, laughing along with your friends and not-so-subtly gazing at one another, even after you had been caught by the other party.

sigh <//3 i hope you're doing well!! :D

oh my god sunnii this is !!!!!!!!!!! i just love the idea of idiots in love if you couldn't tell from my fics and it's just like..... so sweet and best friend yunho just makes sense. he just seems like the type of person who would want to be friends first and grow together slowly 😭

more thoughts under the cut, but a brief sidebar.... i was listening to an old episode of ateez school road and when they start discussing if men and women can be friends, and woo and san are like "nope, not possible" but yunho saying "Yes, I think you can. Yes, yes." has lived in my mind rent fucking free all week. Timestamped here if you're interested....

Yunho's arm stays resting on your shoulder, his weight leaning on you playfully, his eyes on the group as he cracks a wry joke at Mingi's expense. It has you laughing, eyes crinkled up in that way Yunho loves, tears in the corners, but when your hand comes up to grasp his as you recover your breath, something knots in his gut.

It sobers you quickly to realize you're holding hands, and he doesn't move, doesn't find some reason to go grab a drink and break the connection, he just lets you. You test the waters hesitantly, your hand shifting from just resting on top of his to sliding down, your fingers dipping into the negative spaces between his.

He adjusts, subtly interlocking his fingers with yours and you stay steady like this for a moment, no one in the group looking up or noticing quite yet. You feel his sharp intake of breath next to you and your heart is beating out of your chest. It's surprising even to you, but it isn't Yunho who breaks the contact, it's you. Nerves swimming up and getting the better of you, and you disconnect your hands and dart out from under his shoulder, not sparing him a glance back when you announce to the room you'll be right back.

he can't decide if he should follow you or let this go, he saw the blush on your cheeks and your downcast eyes and he just doesn't know if it's nerves or if you were uncomfortable. he watches the doorway to the kitchen where you disappeared, taking a long drink of his beer, his fingers tapping restlessly on the neck of the cool bottle.

It takes longer for you to return than he wants, and just when someone else tries to grab his attention, it was obvious he wasn't listening, just when he had just about decided to go chase you down, you reappear. You're smiling, wide and relaxed again, and when you tuck yourself back into his side and drop his arm back on your shoulder again, the deep panicked knot inside him dissipates.

tonight's not the night, he's not ready to tell you and you don't know that you're ready to listen, but you relax together. you let the party be a party, and you let him stay by your side like always. for now, he's just happy to be that.

a/n: bye this is going to make me write more best friends to lovers isn't it ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh i love them!!!!!!! (thank you for sending in such a lovely soft hours request!!!!)

[boldlyvoid]

ain't it fun?

summary: reader just needs an NA meeting before they have a meltdown, they end up with the best friend they could ever make.

warnings: Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Drug Addiction, Trauma Bonding, narcotics anonymous meetings, Strangers to Lovers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, meet-cute,

word count: 3.3K

a/n: this is completely self-indulgent and overly personal but i def recommend writing why spencer would love you as a form of therapy

read on ao3

In the blink of an eye, she was up and racing around her apartment. Her mental health was like a teeter-totter, and right now she was on her way to the top. Mania was creeping in; changing from just anxiety-induced butterflied to the feeling that she could jump off a building and survive.

That was never a good time. All she wanted was to either spend all her money, fuck a stranger or get high as shit. It made her legs jumpy and her ears ring and she couldn’t take it anymore. It was all too much.

She threw on a sweater and jeans, her hair was up in a butterfly clip and she hastily threw on her fanny pack full of everything she needed as well as a big coat, and she then left her apartment. She got to the stairs before realizing she actually needed to lock the door.

Her hands shook and she tried to slide the key into the lock, dropping them as her neighbour rushed out of the room and startled her. “Sorry,” she heard him say.

She picked up her keys and turned to look at him, “can you help me? I can’t seem to stop shaking,” she asked as she held her keys towards him.

“yes, sure,” he rushed the words out as he walked towards her, only looking at the keys, never in her eyes. But that was okay, she was never a big fan of eye contact.

He placed her keys back in her hand and took a step back, “are you alright?” he asked.

“No,” she said honestly. “I’m going to find an NA meeting.”

“Do you have one in the area? I haven’t seen you around before?”

She shook her head, surprised that he was also an addict, he didn’t look like he’s ever even smoked weed.

“No, I moved in only a little while ago on a whim, but I think it’s time I got some support,” she said as they started to walk down the hallway together. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Spencer,” he smiled softly. “I’m going to a meeting right now, actually, if you’d like to come? I won’t exactly be anonymous to you, but it’s a good one to go to if you just need one to fill the void until you find your preferred group.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I need.” She smiled at him this time as he held the door open for her. “So, have you lived around here for long?”

“For about a few years now.”

“The building is good then? I was a little hesitant but I needed to get away,” she said, this time holding the door for them to leave the building and turn down the street towards where she knew the subway was.

The moon should be out, she looked up but only sees buildings. It was the one thing she missed the most about not being in the country; seeing the stars and feeling like there was a reason to it all.

“Are you running from someone?” He asks as they start the walk down to the meeting.

“Myself,” she said softly. “I’m on disability and don’t drive and I lived in the middle of nowhere with my parents, well into my 20’s, and I needed a change so my parents surprised me by saving up money for a few month's rent and told me to follow my heart.”

“And you picked Virginia?”

“I stayed in Virginia, just moved into the city. I watch a lot of murder documentaries in my free time, I thought being near Quantico would introduce me to some interesting people, but I have yet to meet anyone from the FBI at all.”

She laughed to herself at how dumb it was that she wanted to meet a profiler like Holden Ford from Mindhunter, “either they are all very good at keeping their jobs secret or Virginia is a very large and densely populated area with a low percentage of FBI agents.”

“Interesting.”

“What?”

“How long have you lived here?” he asked, slowing as he walked so he could look at her.

“2 months.”

“It took you two months to meet the FBI agent across the hall from you.”

“You’re kidding?” she said, stopping on the sidewalk abruptly. “I knew that apartment was calling me for a reason.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but, are you really just coincidentally my neighbour or are you secretly spying on me because you have an evil plan to kill me and my co-workers?” he's completely serious, it's almost scary.

“No offence, Spence, but for a supposed FBI agent that’s a dumb question to ask,” she said, pointing finger guns at him, “you don’t think I’ll give up my cover that easily? Do you?”

He points a finger gun back at her, “technically, I’m a doctor.”

The two of them narrow their eyes at each other, slowly walking in a circle, still facing each other with their make-believe guns trying to hold back smirks. She lowered her ‘weapon’ first. “It’s okay, doctor, don’t worry. I’m not a spy just an idiot with an imagination.”

He giggled softly, “I’ve never felt this comfortable with someone this fast.”

“Well, you are with criminals a lot, right? That would be alarming if you bonded with them,” she said, bumping her shoulder into his as they walked. “But I feel the same. I actually haven’t talked to someone in person in forever.”

“No?”

“I do most of my work and socializing online,” She felt embarrassed, but in today’s day and age, it wasn’t that weird. “I’m not very good outside or with people.”

“If it wasn’t for my job, I don’t think I would go outside very often either. My co-workers are my only friends, they’re more like my family actually.”

“That’s so wonderful to hear, found family is very important,” her smile disappeared as she thought about how alone she was. “Um, can I ask what it is you do at the FBI?”

“Behavioural Analysis.”

“Holy shit," she gasps, knowing way too much about that unit thanks to fucking Netflix, "that’s what the BSU became right? Do you work with the really fucked up shit?” she asked softly.

He laughed, “oh yeah, I really do.”

“Do you share a lot at NA?”

“Kinda, I tend to ramble about facts when I’m nervous so sometimes my short talk becomes more like a ted talk and what was supposed to be just me saying I haven’t relapsed on Dilaudid becomes a lesson on how the human brain works,” he explained, rambling just like he said he would.

She nodded along as he spoke, “funny, that was also my drug of choice.”

“Liquid or oral?”

“Oral. I was given it after I had my appendix out when I was 17. They get you started real young now, big pharma has its hand in everyone's pocket,” she presses her lips together awkwardly, “it was rough.”

He hummed in agreement. “I was held captive by an unsub with multiple personalities. One personality drugged me till I died and the other one brought me back.”

“Spencer, Holy fuck?” she stopped and stared at him so incredibly concerned for someone who just met him. She reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder and looked him in the eyes, “I know I barely know you, but if you need someone to talk I’m literally always across the hall.”

“Thank you,” he smiled softly as he looked back into her eyes. “The meeting is right there across the street, do you want a coffee first? The place beside it is amazing.”

She nodded and he took her hand, looking both ways before J-walking across the street with her to buy her a coffee and a snack. Maybe that would help her stop shaking, he looked like he worried about her and she wasn't used to that at all.

He didn’t talk at this meeting, he sat in the chair beside the group leader, she sat down across from him in the circle so she could focus. When the floor was opened up to new members, Y/N stood at the first chance she got.

“Hi I’m Y/N,” she said, to which she was welcomed by the crowd.

“I’m new to the city and looking for a new home group, not sure if I’ll stay here because I know Spencer outside of here but I really just needed to come today.”

She takes a deep breath as she thinks of how to start it, opting to just explain it and let the rant go where it may.

“I’ve never lived alone before and it’s incredibly hard to occupy my time without drugs. I still smoke weed to help me sleep at night but my addiction is with Dilaudid and then Benadryl a little after having surgery in high school. I don’t know if it’s my trauma, my disability or my Autism, maybe it’s my OCD, I really don’t know, but I just feel so useless and alone and boring and lonely, the drugs used to help but they don’t anymore and I really just don’t want to feel this way anymore.”

They all looked like they understood, small smiles grew all around the circle as she took a lookout at the crowd, “Thank you for letting me get that out.”

Everyone clapped as she sat back down and wiped a tear off her cheek.

The meeting ended shortly after that, Spencer walked from his seat in the circle to where she was sitting, reaching a hand out to help her to her feet. “For the record, I think you’re funny, smart, kind and pretty. And you don’t have to be alone anymore if you don’t want to be.”

She slapped her hand into his and stood up with purpose, “Did we just become best friends?”

“I believe we did.”

The walk home was much like the walk there. They traded facts, they flirted, they laughed, she pushed him into a pole at one point, by accident as they laughed. The two of them stopping to sit at a bus bench, laughing so hard she felt like she would pee her pants right then and there.

By the time they were back on their floor, it was well after midnight. “I don’t think I’ll be able to go back to meetings with you.”

“Oh, why?” he looked disappointed.

“Isn’t rule 13 that you’re not supposed to want to sleep with your group members when you’re healing?”

“Wanting to and doing it are two very different things,” he corrected her as he waited at his own door.

She smirked, “you’re right. Still don’t think I can go back with you, however.”

“I’ll probably have a case tomorrow, they normally take me out of town for at least a week, but when I get back, can I see you?” he asked lightly.

“Knock on my door when you get back,” she said before standing on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. “See you.”

“Bye.”

They waved from their doors before departing, excited by something that felt better than drugs.

—

120 hours later there was a light knock at her door, she knows exactly how long it’s been because she’s been counting and looking out the door at every noise for the whole time he’s been gone. Waiting for him like a wife whose husband went off to war, not knowing when their next correspondence would be.

“Coming,” she called, stopping to fluff her hair and straighten her glasses before she opened the door.

“Spencer!”

“Hi,” he said softly.

She took a moment to look him over, a little in shock at what she saw. He was in a plain t-shirt and track pants, he had not one, but two black eyes, bandages on his brow bone and scrapes all along his arms.

“Are you okay?”

“You should see the other guy,” he giggled softly, rolling his eyes.

“Come in, let’s sit you down.” She worried, taking him by the elbow and helping him inside.

“I’m fine, really, I’m used to this.”

“Well I’m not,” she reminded him with a nervous pout, “am I allowed to ask about it or is it classified stuff?”

He sat on the couch and patted a seat beside himself so she would join him. He rested his arm against the back of the chair so that she could slide in beside him.

“Did you hear about the child abduction in Tampa?”

“Yeah? The two boys?”

“I was trying to talk the unsub down and he dropped the gun but he grabbed me as I turned him around and punched me in the face and we fell into the ditch and I luckily managed to flip over him and get his hands behind his back and cuffed faster than I ever have before.”

“You’re amazing,” she whispered.

He laughed, “if I really was, I would have waited for backup before talking to the guy.”

“I’ve always wanted to help other people get justice but not being able to go to school makes it hard to get a job doing anything meaningful,” she whispered, ashamed of the fact she wasn’t successful like most people her age.

“Our technical analyst was hired because she was an amazing hacker, they will hire anyone who is valuable.” He shrugs and watches her face light up at the idea.

“You know what, we have meetings all this week unless there’s an emergency, if you want I can show you around the office?” he offered. “It’s not illegal for you to pass by what I’m working on and notice something I missed.”

“Spencer, I don’t even know your last name and you’re inviting me to your government job? When just last week you asked, not so jokingly, if I was a secret agent trying to kill you and that you’ve been kidnapped before?”

“Doctor Spencer Reid, and what can I say?” he said shyly, “I’m trying to find excuses to see you smile all the time.”

She placed her hand on his cheek, the tips of her fingers lightly resting on his purple and yellow bruised eyes. She leaned in slowly and kissed him on the lips, so gently as if she’s afraid he’ll break or turn into a frog… he was too good to be true.

“You can see me whenever you want, Doctor Spencer Reid…”

He kissed her again, letting his hands roam her back and she trailed her free hand down his chest. She pulled back slightly to throw a leg over him carefully and sit in his lap. Holding his face in her hands now, she peppered kisses over his bruised face.

She stopped to look at him, still holding his face in her hands as his hands now rested on her hips. “I really like you, Spencer.”

“Really?”

She looks at him carefully, analyzing his response and seeing the hurt that rested deep inside of him, “I take it you’re like me?”

“What does that mean?”

“You try to not get too involved with people because no one has ever shown you true genuine interest or love, and you never think you’ll find it anyway so you push away all small acts of kindness, thinking it’s friendly because then you can’t get your hope up, just to have that person drop them?” she explained herself in a whisper.

He nodded, “you get it.”

She kissed his lips again, and then over his cheek and up to his ear, “I do.”

He looked extra sad when she pulled away, she just held his face gently as she mirrored his puppy dog eyes. Communicating with their eyes, she knew he was okay and he didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so she smiled.

“Want to watch a movie?” She asks softly.

He nods, looking behind her to see she doesn’t have a tv in the living room. “How?”

“In my room, the TV is on my dresser if you don’t mind sitting in my bed?”

He shakes his head in a simple no, picking her up and taking her to her room. He knew where it was purely because her apartment was just his but backwards. She laughs, holding onto him tight as she rests her head on his shoulder.

He sets her down gently, watching her move up to the headboard and wait for him. They got under the blankets and she found the remote in the sheet before she cuddled into him.

“You’re really cuddly,” she complimented him as he wrapped an arm around her and held her close. He kissed the top of her head as a thank you.

“I think I’m going to end up falling in love with you, Spencer Reid,” she whispers the words, afraid of them more than his response.

“I beat you to it,” he whispers right back.

She shoots up, turning to look at him with surprise. “How?”

He looks at her like she grew two heads, “what do you mean how?”

“How did you fall in love with me? You don’t even know me?” She’s so confused, no one has ever loved her before and it’s a lot to take in.

“Y/N…” his face drops, his heart physically breaks in front of her. “I don’t know you, you're right. Not all of you, at least. I’m sure you have your hidden doors and locked cupboards but from the outside, I see you’re so beautiful, you’re radiant… your mind is lovely. You’re so kind, you’re so brave, you’re everything I wish I could be as charismatically as you are.”

She’s just swallowing over and over as she shakes her head and breathes through her nose, processing it. She’s breathing deeply then, staring off and she feels like she’s having a new kind of panic attack. A happier one, somehow?

“I don’t like myself, but if you like me I guess I must be pretty nice,” she smiles, accepting his praise and believing him. “Yeah. Thank you, Spencer.”

He smiles then, it’s cute and press-lipped and she swears he almost has dimples. His eyes are like honey and his lips are like roses. She leans in, kissing him and reaching a hand back to cup the nape of his neck.

He doesn’t know it, but he’s the first person she’s kissed in a few years. They’re soft, peck after peck as they hold each other softly, eyes open as they watch each other experience the happiness of finding someone good, finally.

“I uh, I wanted to tell you I’m almost exactly everything you described yourself as in the meeting,” he whispers against her lips, the air touching her skin gently as she absorbs the words.

“What part? My diagnosis or my self-hatred?” She smiles, okay with either really.

“Almost both, I’m pretty hard to be around.”

She shakes her head, “I invited you in for a movie, not a pity party. You can tell me everything you hate right now and then we should just share the good parts okay? Brag about yourself. Tell me what you’re proud of.”

She was really serious, keeping a stern look on her face as she spoke. He nodded, “I’m anxious all the time, I’m always worried because I’ve never had anyone to worry about me. I don’t know how to be a real person really, all I do is drink coffee and solve crimes and I barely sleep. And the only time I was relaxed and okay is when I was on drugs.”

She nodded, “it fucking sucks, doesn’t it? Like why did we get stuck like this, I don't care about peaking in high school but didn’t we deserve some kind of love and support? I’ve never understood if souls and shit are real, why did mine pick this terrible meat suit and awful traumatic path?”

She’s crying because she’s angry and because she’s never said it to anyone before. He cries because she understands. She truly knows.

“I love you,” he announces. “Just because of that.”

Taglist: @blanchardsbk @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor

[willowbird]

Hey! For the au + trope + prompt thing, could you do 1 for au, 9 for trope and 27 for prompt with pynch?

(P.S: I just remembered you have already done one with pynch, so you can do this one with another ship of your choosing if this one feels repetitive!)

Roommates AU, strangers to lovers, “that was a very bad idea. 0/10 would not recommend.” ~ for pynch!

I am more than happy to write 10,000 roommate aus for these idiots <3

---

It all started with an only mildly suspicious ad on craigslist:

Roommate needed $275/mo - utilities included must be ok with corvids good w/cars a plus - rent discount if u can prove it

Adam wasn't an idiot. He knew something that was too good to be true when he saw it. He also knew that answering a craigslist ad for a roommate was a good way to get stabbed, robbed, and God only knew what else.

And yet...

Sometimes, when your options were limited it really was better to take every possible avenue to get away from the devil you know - even if that means sharing a small apartment with the devil you don't.

Well, the devil and his pet raven. And really, Chainsaw was by far the more agreeable of the two.

That being said, it wasn't like Ronan was awful. He was an asshole, and he was downright grumpy bastard anytime before 11am. He listened to terrible music, if that trash could ever be considered such. Chainsaw was a sweetheart, though, always bringing Adam new shinies for his approval and sitting with him while he worked on a paper or research or any number of other assignments for his degree.

(Taking the risk that he had by jumping at that craigslist ad meant that he was able to cut back on his hours a little bit at work, go to school full time, and start amassing a savings account.)

And, okay, Ronan probably had some merits too. He could cook, for one thing. Not to say that Adam couldn't cook. He could - he just didn't like to. If it were up to him, he'd probably subsist on saltines and hard-boiled eggs. In fact, he had done exactly that for the first two weeks living with Ronan until the other man had dropped a full plate of breakfast in front of him, stole his crackers, and pointed at him. "Eat like a fucking grown-up," he'd said -and... well, that was that. Sure, Adam had tried to protest, but Ronan had just... started making food for the both of them and maybe if it was shitty food or even mediocre in quality Adam would have been able to ignore it - but it killed something inside Adam to waste food. Especially good food. And Ronan's food was fucking amazing.

So, there was that.

He also wasn't an absolute terror to be around. Having a conversation with Ronan Lynch was a choose-your-own-adventure novel written by very high geniuses. You really never knew what you were going to get and each alternate path was bound to be either completely bat-shit crazy or a humbling level of profound. Not only that, but Ronan didn't pull that alpha-male bullshit so many other men did where they refused to admit they didn't know something. No, when Adam proved that he knew what he was talking about when it came to cars, Ronan just said "teach me?" with such open intensity that Adam couldn't really tell him 'no', alright?

And then there were days like today, where Adam got home from an early shift at the garage to find Ronan sitting halfway out of their third-floor apartment, securing a thick rope to a hook above the window that definitely hadn't been there when Adam left that morning.

"Are you about to do something stupid again?" Adam called up to him as he got out of his car. Upon hearing his voice, Chainsaw (who had been circling anxiously above) crowed out a warbled imitation of speech that sounded a lot like 'Atom' and coasted down to him.

"Me? Stupid? Nah, this is gonna be fucking amazing," Ronan called back without looking away from his work.

Chainsaw landed on Adam's shoulder and clapped her beak affectionately near his ear. Adam dutifully lifted a hand to stroke at the soft feathers of her neck. If he also whispered 'hello beautiful girl, is your papa making trouble for you again?' it was between him and the bird and Ronan would never need to know.

Chainsaw crooned a tense 'kreh!' that Adam took as an affirmative.

"What exactly are you doing, Ronan Lynch?" Adam called up as he took another look at the setup, walking closer to the building. The rope that Ronan had just finished tying to the hook was already secured to a tree on the edge of the parking lot, the one that stood awkwardly out from the rest of the tree line. Their apartment complex was situated right on the edge of a forest preserve. A lot of Ronan's hair-brained ideas usually came back to the forest in one way or another.

"This is just a test run. If I can get it to work right, I'm going to set a line straight into the forest."

"Mm, yes, because... leaving civilization through a door is beneath you?"

Ronan paused, then grinned down at him, the expression somehow both boyish and savage in a way that always made Adam's heart jump for some reason. "Actually, yeah. Literally."

Adam rolled his eyes but didn't bother to fight the smile. "Punk."

"I resent that. I reject all labels, Parrish - you know that."

"Uh-huh. Sure. Well if you-- Ronan what are you doing?"

Ronan had produced what looked like a fucking tie (was that the one Ronan's brother Declan had been wearing when he came by for dinner a couple weeks back?) and had wrapped one end around his hand. As Adam watched, he flicked the loose end of the tie over the taut rope and then wrapped it around his other hand.

"Told you it was a test run, Parrish. That mean's I've actually got to test it."

"Ronan I don't think--"

But it was too late. Ronan had already jumped out of the fucking third-floor window like he was expecting to fly. For a second or two, he sort of did. The rope bowed but supported him and the smooth tie provided little friction as Ronan began to zoom down at a steep angle. Then the rope shuddered and went completely slack, the hook having torn free from the side of the building where it clearly had not been properly anchored. Ronan plummeted like a stone in a still pond.

"Ronan!" Adam did not make the active decision to move, but he was suddenly sprinting to where the jumbled heap of Ronan Lynch had landed on the rough pavement. Chainsaw had already launched ahead and was hopping around near Ronan's head, squawking out anxious reprimands of 'Kerah! Kerah!'

Adam skidded to his knees beside Ronan just as the other man was shakily trying to sit up. "What the FUCK Ronan Lynch!? What were you thinking!? You can't just jump out of a God-forsaken third-floor window like that. Do you want to be killed?" Adam didn't even care that the rural-Virginian flavor of his youth had coated his words in a thick batter, he was so mad.

Ronan blinked at him and there was a strange mix of confusion and pain and... something else on his face. "Scared, Parrish?" The words did not come out as teasing as they normally would.

"Scared? Scared? Of course I was scared. You... you fucking idiot!" Adam had to give himself a moment. He raked his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath, then another. He closed his eyes and tried to center himself. Fear and anger would get him nowhere, even if the fear had already set its nasty little hooks into each and every one of his nerve endings and the anger felt like the only way to burn them away.

A hand touched his shoulder, then his cheek. Adam opened his eyes and Ronan was wearing another indecipherable expression, his dark eyes hooded, his mouth pursed.

"Come on," Adam said as he leaned back so he could stand up. "Can you stand?" Chainsaw continued to hop around, but she'd stopped her distressed shouting, perhaps sensing that Adam was taking control and feeling more comfortable knowing that he would set things to rights, whatever that might mean.

Ronan was quiet for a moment, then seemed to shake himself out of his thoughts before giving a derisive snort. "It was just a little fall, Parrish, I'm --fuck!" Ronan had just tried to stand up, but his knee buckled out from under him as soon as he put his weight on it. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck, alright. Alright. Shit. Fuck. That was a very bad idea. 0/10 would not recommend."

"The standing or the stupid fucking stunt you pulled jumping out of a goddamn window?" Adam asked. He attempted to make it as dry as possible, trying to get them back to some kind of equilibrium, but his heart was still racing a bit too fast and he could hear the angry bite in his own words.

Still didn't stop him from instantly stepping forward and catching Ronan, though. He wound an arm around Ronan's waist, guiding Ronan's arm over his shoulders so he could support him.

"The standing, of course. Shit! Ah... fuck. My idea for the apartment-forest zipline is fucking genius thank you."

Adam helped Ronan hobble forward, taking them back toward his car instead of the building. "Yeah. Right. Whatever you say, Lynch."

"Where are we going?"

"To the hospital, dumbass," Adam said with a roll of his eyes, all but shoving Ronan into the passenger seat. He held the door open for Chainsaw to be able to swoop in and land on the idiot's lap. The least Ronan could do was soothe her for the drive.

"You don't have--"

Adam cut him off with a glare. "We. Are. Going. To. The. Hospital. Am I being perfectly clear?"

"...yes." Ronan glared back, but then sank down in his seat, expression mulish.

Adam fixed him with a hard stare that lasted another few heartbeats, then gave a nod and snapped the door shut.

So yes, Ronan Lynch wasn't all that bad. Sometimes the devil you don't really is the better choice. Because sometimes that devil has a cute bird and makes good food and has great conversation. If he also scares the shit out of you on the regular and makes your heart race inexplicably, well, that's not so bad a deal. Right?

[slashmebois]

Exhausted

“Hi !

If it's okay may I please have Bo sinclair x reader? Just reader been up for like two days straight because they're super busy but also super exhausted and they end up passing out? Like how would Bo react?” (Anon)

Oh my goodness, of course you can. Dirty garage man lives in my head rent free. Hope this is close-ish to what you were expecting Nonny!

Living in Ambrose was generally a quiet life, save for the occasional visitors. But even their noisy presence was quickly snuffed out and put on display. You had grown accustomed to the lazy days and the hard graft of luring people in and helping to move their bodies after Vincent or Bo dealt with them.

As much as you loved helping Bo with his passion project, it didn’t pay for the food on your table. There was a little money in visitor’s pockets here and there, but most people carried cards these days. So, when someone from your old life messaged with the offer of a paid remote research position you felt you would be an idiot to refuse. You just didn’t realise how much work it would be.

Bo had scrunched his nose up when you told him you needed to stay home for a week or two, and asked, “what’s wrong with the garage?”, but he hadn’t pushed you to come with him. Vincent was downstairs in the basement all day and Lester was waiting for hapless folks to show up, so your days were pretty lonely, but you told yourself that was good for your focus.

The first day went pretty well, you found what you thought were relevant articles and went into some critical evaluation before sending them over to the project manager. The second day got off to a worse start, your manager had sent the articles back telling you they were irrelevant because of something or other. You groaned in frustration and went about finding articles that fit their very niche description. From there on out it became a back and forth of you finding articles and evaluating them, and your manager being a hard-ass, or as you preferably thought of them A DICK. You were staying up later and later, eventually resulting in you forgoing sleep altogether. You would get in bed with Bo, using your crappy laptop, and as soon as he fell asleep you would sneak away to the kitchen table to continue your work.

Vincent was the first to notice your dark and baggy eyes, putting a hand on your shoulder one morning and cocking his head, “I’m fine Vinny, just not sleeping great, don’t worry”. He stood there a moment longer, looking uncertain before walking away to make breakfast, and you felt a pang of guilt. You weren’t exactly lying; you just didn’t want any of them to worry. They were all so good to you. And you knew that if Vincent got too worried, he would tell Bo, and that would not go well for sure.

Slowly but surely your manager started to give better responses to the articles you sent, and you breathed a sigh of relief. The nightmare was nearly over, you could start typing up the research into a document. With renewed inspiration and a lot of caffeine you set to work writing it up. Bo came home from work that evening and was surprised by you actually greeting him.

“You’re in a good mood y/n”

“Sure am, got a good chunk of work done. How about we celebrate on the weekend? Grab a couple beers, watch a trashy movie?”

His smile made your heart flutter, “I’d love that y/n. Don’t stay up too late now. Now come give your man a kiss”

You jump to your feet, tripping on the laptop cord in the process. You fall forwards and Bo catches you, smirking.

“You falling for me again baby?”

Your cheeks flush, “Always, you know me, just clumsy”

He grasps your hair and presses his lips to your head, inhaling, “For real, don’t stay up too late though, bed feels empty if I ain’t got you next to me. And well, feels like I’m waking up to an empty bed in the morning a lot recently.”

You smiled up at him, “I’ll be up as soon, promise”, Unfortunately, it was a promise you had to break.

Around 2am, your laptop cut out. The plug had pulled away from the wall when you tripped. But you hadn’t noticed.

You stared blankly at your reflection in the screen, numbness welling up inside you. When was the last time you saved? You couldn’t remember. What was the point? You put your heart and soul into it, but it was all crumbling to ash in your hands. You sat still as a rock for a moment before slowly raising yourself up and plugging your laptop back in. The rest of your night is spent catching up, as your eyes grow heavier and heavier.

A voice is calling you. You can hear it faintly as you monotonously type a letter at a time. It isn’t until a hand is waved in front of your face you blink back to reality and look up to a concerned looking Bo.

“Y/n. What the hell is wrong with you? I’ve been trying to get your attention for 5 minutes”

“Wha- Uh, sorry. Was really focused on this…um…this thing”

“I can tell, it was your turn to cook, remember?”

Your brain slowly ticks, as you look over to the clock. Fuck, he’s right. And you’re making him late for work.

“Oh god, Bo. I’m so sorry. I’ll just whip something up real-“

You feel your legs fall from under you as you stand and see Bo’s eyebrows knit together as he lurches towards you. And then your vision blurs out to black.

You feel very warm. It’s like there’s an all-encompassing glow surrounding you. You try to remember what came before but it’s just so comfortable here. You were at the kitchen table. And you were having breakfast? No. You fell and Bo…

You gasp awake, looking around to ascertain your surroundings. You’re in your bedroom, Bo’s metal band posters adorning the walls, and the little plants you keep on every surface. You also see Jonesy curled up on the bed, her ears perking up as she sees you rouse. You eyes come to rest on Bo who is sat on the edge of the bed staring at you.

“Hey Bo”

His lips firm up, before he lets out a sigh, “Hey.”, it’s short and curt. Fuck, he’s mad at you.

“I uh, I fell huh?”

“You could say that”

The silence is palpable.

“Look I’m real sor-“

“Don’t. You must have known you were being an idiot. I sure did. I thought you were just getting up earlier, getting less sleep. But fuck. You weren’t sleeping at all were you? All for what, some goddamn fucking job?!” His voice starts at a steady volume and rises.

You can feel yourself choking up, “It ain’t just some job. I, I just wanted to help. I thought if I made some money I could help out, get some groceries, cook a nice meal”

“WOULDN’T FUCKING MATTER IF YOU’RE DEAD Y/N” he yells, throwing his cap from his head across the floor, “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW SCARED I WAS. I THOUGHT YOU WERE FUCKIN’ DEAD LIKE MAMA” he swipes angrily at his eyes, and his hoarse voice trembles out, “I don’t wanna lose the best thing to happen to me. Just please, we can handle money. I want you here with me, chatting shit with me in the garage, sharing dinner with all of us, cuddling up at the end of the day.” He faces away from you, and you can see the tension in his back.

You let the tears flow freely from your eyes, “I’m sorry baby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ll do better. I’ll set myself hours and stick to them. And if that’s not good enough, I’ll quit.” You kneel on the bed and reach your arms over his shoulders, he tenses a little more and then relaxes back into you. “I’ll be better Bo”, your hand comes to his face and he allows you to guide him to your lips. He kisses you deeply, reaching around to grab you tight.

This. This is where you belong. In Bo’s arms. Fuck everything else.

[rhysismydaddy]

After Midnight pt. 1 (Feysand)

Synopsis: After a tumultuous, heartbreaking relationship, Feyre Archeron turns to online dating for a break from normalcy. Or rather, to Velaris Nighttime Ventures, the most exclusive, high-dollar escort system around. She needs to ease back in to intimacy, so this seems like the perfect idea. But what happens when her escort turns out to be someone she can’t get out of her head? Someone who seems to understand and appreciate everything about her? 

My many disclaimers: Stole a line in here from The Hating Game. And one from ACOTAR obviously. And the story line is loosely based off of The Kiss Quotient. Basically, I’m a fraud.

__________________________________________________________

~Feyre~

If I told any of my friends I’m about to hire a hooker, they’d laugh themselves silly. 

And, to be honest, the idea is a little ridiculous to me, too. 

I’ve never had a problem getting a date in my life. Brownish blondeish hair, blue-gray eyes, and an athletic build give me slightly above average looks. A lucrative job makes me financially sound and independent. A lifetime with two sisters gave me a sense of humor. 

I’ve dated prom kings, nerds, and everything in between. I’m completely normal. 

Or at least I used to be. 

After everything that happened last year, I don’t know if that’s true anymore. 

My therapist tells me constantly it’s okay that my last relationship changed me. And the multiple degrees on her pretty green wall tell me she knows what she’s talking about and that she’s completely correct. 

Even if... even if it doesn’t feel okay. 

Even if I can hardly stand looking in a mirror or being hugged or someone giving me a compliment. 

Even if I haven’t felt like myself in so long, I don’t even know if I’d recognize it if i did. 

Because while I used to love putting makeup on, choosing a dress, and going out, the thought now fills me with so much dread it makes me nauseous. 

What if I just make the same mistake as last time? 

My sister's told me my whole life to guard my heart, but I always laughed it off and  said she was being cynical. And what do I have to prove it? Trust issues and a standing appointment Dr. Motley. 

Men don’t deserve my trust. At least not right now. 

But... it’s time to move on in the physical sense. 

And since running the risk of taking home the wrong man scares me shitless, I’ll start with someone who can’t reject me, can’t make me feel worthless. 

Someone who won’t develop feelings for me or get attached and demanding. Someone... who won’t mind giving me control. 

A hooker. 

Or escort, like the Velaris Nighttime Ventures website says as I scroll through pages and pages of profiles. 

Gods, this is more stressful than my first gallery opening. 

All the profiles include is a picture, probably-fake name, height, an age, and a simple sentence about them. 

It feels creepily similar to online shopping. And there are so, so many options. How the heck am I going to choose one? 

Scrolling down further, my eyes roam over men of every skin tone, age, and height. I don’t have any real preference, but decide I need to have a few ground rules, otherwise this will take forever. 

Age? I’m twenty-seven and don’t have an interest in being a cougar, so I set the range from twenty-eight to thirty-five. 

Height? At 5′6, I’m not exactly tall, but I’ve always found men who were more attractive, so I shrug and put the minimum at six feet. 

Pressing enter, I watch the website sort, then look at the number of men left. Thirty. Not bad. 

Scrolling through slowly, I realize it’s kind of like a yearbook for an all male college or something.

A college full of really sexy men. 

I pause on a few, but something about them make her keep going. I want the complete opposite of my ex, so any with features like him get eliminated. 

Eventually, I get to the last row, feeling a little dejected. 

But then I see him. 

His eyes seemed to pierce through the screen, and once I see him, I can’t look away. Without another thought, I click on the profile. 

The name under the picture reads Rhysand. No last name, probably for privacy purposes. He’s a few years older than me. And tall--6′3 tall. But that isn’t what draws me closer. It’s the sentence he’d written. 

To the stars that listened -- and the dreams that are answered. 

My fingers ignore the rational part of my brain and click the button to book an appointment, and before I know it, I’m looking at a confirmation page. 

For tonight at midnight. 

Oh gods.

~Rhysand~

After working at the bar for a few hours, I head back to my shitty apartment to get ready for tonight’s appointment. 

Someone has booked me for an “evening of adventure and pleasure” as the confirmation email tells me. 

Wonderful. 

All I know is her name: Feyre. It doesn’t sound like an old-lady name, so there’s that. 

Those are the worst. It feels like fucking someone’s grandmother. Not that I’d know, exactly. And I mean sure, most of my clients are older. But there’s older, and then there’s old. Fine line between the two, let me tell you. 

Most of the people who hire me are in their forties, trapped in miserable marriages, and desperate for a decent lay. They’re also filthy rich, because I’m not cheap in the slightest. 

It’s why I’d agreed to this shit in the first place. 

Yeah, I have to psych myself up and sleep with a random lady, but the pay is killer. And the more money I make, the quicker I can stop. 

So I shower and go through my pre-appointment routine, trying not to think about what’s become of my life. 

There weren’t any special requests on the appointment, but the meet was set for a swanky hotel downtown, so I put on a dark suit and white dress shirt. My hair doesn’t need much work, so I leave, figuring I’ll get there early. 

The drive over’s quick, and soon I’m walking inside and sitting at the bar. She has my picture, but I don’t have a clue what she looks like, so she’ll have to come find me. 

After a few minutes, someone settles next to me, and I turn around with an expectant smile. 

But when I see who it is, I stop. And hating myself more than I thought possible, I tell the woman, “Sorry, I’m waiting for someone.”

Which really fucking sucks, because she’s beautiful as hell. 

Smooth skin, dark blonde hair, blue eyes, and kiss-me lips kind of beautiful. 

She gives me a strange look, then says words I’d never expect from someone like her. “I’m Feyre. I’m the... client.”

The way she cringes on the word tells me it’s her first time doing something like this, and the thought makes me a little too happy. 

I know I should say something to comfort her, but all I can think is... she’s definitely no grandma. 

~Feyre~

He keeps staring at me for a few more moments, then smiles and says, “Sorry. You’re not what I was expecting.”

I nod, then realize I have no idea what to say. Or do. Fuck, this is weird. “Do you want a drink?”

Rhysand shakes his head, then says, “Feel free, though.”

That’s the first good idea I’ve heard all day. After ordering from the bartender, I turn to the man next to me and smile sheepishly. “I don’t really know how this works. It’s my first time with... this.”

“I figured.” He’s turned toward me, one arm braced on the bar. “You can have your drink, and we’ll go upstairs when you’re ready.”

A nervous laugh ebbs out of me, and I blush. “Okay.”

Gods, am I really going through with this? 

I mean sure, he’s hotter than all hell, but he’s a prostitute. 

Would you rather invite a random man home with you? the bitch that lives in my brain asks with a knowing smile. 

I ignore her as a drink’s set in front of me, finding it helps a little. The man next to me just watches, face a mixture of confusion and amusement. 

Somehow, the photo didn’t do him justice. He’s ridiculously attractive, with dark hair, almost violet eyes, and tan skin. There’s a hint of stubble on his strong jaw, surrounding the sensual mouth that’s currently smirking at me. 

I’m definitely attracted to him, but this is still weird. 

“So, why are you doing this?” he asks as I drink. “If you don’t mind.”

I’m sure as hell not telling him the truth, so I say, "I’ll tell you my story if you tell me yours.”

Rhysand smiles, and it only makes him more attractive. “Fair point.”

Then he looks me up and down, raises his dark brows, and asks, “Ready?”

Not in the fucking slightest. “Sure.”

By the time we reach the elevator, I’m practically shaking. Telling myself that I can do this--that it’s what I want, for gods sake--doesn’t really help. But I don’t say a word as we glide up, then walk to the room I’ve rented for tonight. 

When we get inside, I avoid looking at the bed as I turn to him. 

Rhysand smoothly takes off his suit jacket, then leans against the wall and crosses his ankles. “You seem nervous.”

He certainly doesn’t. Every move he makes is smooth and easy, like he’s so comfortable in his body he doesn’t ever get nervous or self-conscious. 

Must be nice. 

“I do?” It’s a deflection, and we both know it. 

“You’re shaking like a wet dog.” My nose wrinkles at the analogy, and he grins. “A very cute wet dog.”

I told myself I’d be alright, but now that I’m alone with him, I realize I’ve told absolutely no one where I am tonight. And if things go wrong... I start pacing. “I’m, uh... it’s just... nothing. Let’s do this thing.”

I should write sonnets. 

His lips twitch, but he doesn’t say a word as he walks to sit on the edge of the bed. Feeling like the biggest idiot in the world, I sit next to him. 

“Why don’t we just take things slow?” 

Thank the gods. I nod. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, using manners I definitely hadn’t expected but much appreciate. 

I nod again, trying to keep my hands from shaking. 

Rhysand raises a hand, but I swallow and push down the flare of panic as he cups my jaw and tilts my face to his. Then he leans in--keeping his word and going very slowly--and I brace myself as his lips brush against mine.

My body doesn’t exactly know how to feel when they touch. On the one hand, a very handsome man is kissing me. On the other... a man is kissing me. 

I ignore the second thought and kiss him back. 

His lips are silky soft against mine, slowly urging them open, and then his tongue is in my mouth, caressing mine. Everything’s slow and sensual and practiced. 

And even though it’s a picture-perfect moment, it feels like that scene in the movie where the dumb blonde goes down the dark hallway while the entire theater screams at her to run. 

Oh gods oh gods oh gods. 

My brain’s playing me a repeat of the last year on fast forward, and I press my eyes closed to try and block it out. 

I’m fine. 

Rhysand leans into me, and then I’m on my back with him hovering above me, still kissing me. His surprisingly muscled frame is heavy against me, pressing me down into the soft sheets, and his elbows are by my head.

Nothing’s wrong. 

Everything’s wrong. 

I take a quick moment to remind myself that if this had happened a year ago, I’d probably have wrapped myself around him and let him do whatever he wanted. 

But the past twelve months weren’t just a bad dream. And the band-aid protecting the stupid, naive girl I used to be from the harsh realities of the world has been ripped off and torn to bits. 

And suddenly, I can’t breathe. 

His head snaps up immediately, and violet eyes gaze down at me, full of concern. A weak hand comes up to press against his chest, and he sits up immediately. “Feyre? Are you okay?”

I shake my head and practically roll off the bed onto the floor. It’s completely undignified, but I don’t care. My lungs are on fire, my throat tight with the tears I’m barely holding back. 

I have to get away from him; I have to get some space. 

My back hits the wall, and I curl into myself, pressing my forehead against my knees. 

Breathe, Feyre, breathe. 

The silence in the room is broken only by my gasps, and I focus on the sound, letting it remind me that I’m here, that I made it out. 

I don’t let myself think about the other person in the room. It’s just me, and I’m fine. I made it out. 

There’s scratchy carpet under my legs, a wall behind my back, and more than enough air in the room. 

Eventually, my brain catches up with the obvious, allowing oxygen to fill my chest. I’m gulping down breath after breath until my heart rate finally starts slowing down, and it’s only when my head stops feeling fuzzy do I open my eyes. 

Rhysand sits on the bed, beautiful eyes wide, watching me. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. Gods, he’s probably uncomfortable beyond belief. “I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s not your fault,” I say, cutting him off and shaking my head. I know I should get off the floor, but my legs feel like jello, and I don’t want to crawl around again. “I, um...”

The words to explain the panic don’t come easy, but he stays silent, giving me time. 

And because I’m a coward who still can’t admit what happened to me, I repeat the words my therapist suggested I try. 

“I have problems with intimacy.” It’s hardly a whisper, but I know he hears it. “And, um... I thought it would be easier with someone like you.” I flinch at my own words and try to make it sound less offensive. “I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay, Feyre. I understand.”

Tears burn the edges of my eyes, but I force them down and steady my voice. “You can go. There’s money on the desk.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not leaving you like this. Unless I’m the reason.”

“No, it’s not you,” I assure him. “You’re great. I just have a hard time relaxing with- I mean around-”

“Men,” he finishes quietly. 

And even though I didn’t tell him, he looks like he can read the words off my face. Rhysand doesn’t say another word, but his eyes are understanding and calm. 

He extends a hand, the silent invitation clear, and for some reason, it makes me smile as I slowly get to my feet, using the wall to support me.

Walking over, he takes my hand in is, and I notice how rough his palms are. Before I can wonder what he does to get such big callouses, he takes my other hand and places them on his shoulders. 

“You’re in control. There are no expectations with me.” The words wash over me, settling in, and my heart slows down a bit. “If you want to kiss and call it a night, we can. It’s up to you.”

For some reason, hearing that he doesn’t care helps. It’s the reason why I chose this, I guess. I’m the client, and I’m in control. 

Finally feeling calm, I slowly run my hands over his shoulders, down his arms. He’s heavily muscled, but it’s smooth and lean, not bulky. From a physical life, not from hours spent in a gym.

I can see the faint lines of tattoos beneath the shirt, but I don’t move to unbutton it. 

His eyes stay on me, and I meet them as my hands drift to his face. The stubble I’d noticed earlier is rough against my fingers as I trace his jaw, then the strong slope of his eyebrows. 

It’s been a year since I touched a man. Longer since I did so this... leisurely. 

My hands find their way into his dark hair, and I smile at how soft it is. His head tilts back a little and his eyes drift close. I don’t know if he’s putting on a show or actually enjoying this, but he seems calm at least. 

And I think... I think this could work. 

Working on my intimacy issues with him could help fix me, maybe even get me ready for a real relationship. 

So I lean in slowly and press my mouth to his. 

Like he said, I’m in control. While earlier had felt like being kissed, this feels like kissing. I move my mouth slowly over his, tracing the curve of his lower lip softly. 

He really is a beautiful man. 

And patient, too. He’s extremely patient while I take my time learning the shape of his mouth, then the angle of his jaw. He stays still, eyes closed, letting me explore. 

I slowly drift back to his mouth, and when he eases his lips open, I meet his tongue with mine. It’s slow and light and just enough to make me want more. 

My breath comes shorter, but it isn’t in panic.

Taking his hands from the bed beside him, I place them on my hips. His fingers flex, but they stay exactly where I put them, even as I wrap my arms around his neck and press a little closer to him. 

We’re still just kissing, but I feel it in my entire body, all the way to my toes. 

I pull back and take a deep breath, not knowing how to put what I want into words without embarrassing myself. Bright violet eyes meet mine as Rhysand runs his tongue across his lower lip. “Just say it.”

How can he read my face so well after just an hour of knowing me? 

“Lean back,” I say, my face warm with a blush. “But don’t turn us over. I can’t... I feel trapped.”

Rhysand just nods, gripping my hips tighter, then lays down with me on top of him. My chest is against his, my legs resting in between his. It’s the closest I’ve been to someone in a long time, and I wait for the panic to set in, but none comes. 

“You okay?”

A small part of me wishes he wouldn’t be so damn understanding and nice. It’s making me feel so incredibly stupid, even as it warms my heart. 

I nod, then put my head down against his chest. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Why?”

Looking back up, I meet his eyes hesitantly. “You’re probably so weirded out by me. Paying you just to come make out like teenagers.”

He smiles, and it makes some of the nerves untangle. “Silly woman. I could kiss you all night. You have the most delicious mouth.” He leans in and kisses me, as if to prove it, then makes a deep humming sound. 

“That’s absurd,” I mutter, even though I feel a lot less anxious now. 

Rhysand shakes his head, then says, “You taste like fucking candy.” His arms loosely wrap around my waist. “Tilt your head to the side and I’ll prove it.”

I do, and his mouth meets my neck, slowly but in a way that makes it feel like I’m being devoured. Tingles shoot down my body as he sweeps my hair off my neck to get better access, and a soft moan escapes me as he sucks on the spot between my shoulder and neck. 

He pulls away enough to say, “You have a really sexy moan, too.”

My face goes scarlet, and he grins up at me, then we’re kissing again. Gods, the man can kiss. He’s letting me control everything, but it’s obvious he’s good at what he does.

Even though I’m almost delirious with lust--something I haven’t felt in a long, long time--I know this is enough for tonight. I’ve already had one panic attack, and I don’t want to push myself too hard. 

So I pull back and tell him, “You can go. I don’t think... this is good for tonight, I think.”

“I feel like you’re not getting your money’s worth if I leave now,” he says, and if I could’ve sworn I hear a hint of sadness in his tone.

I shrug, not telling him the money for tonight was nothing to worry about. Instead, I just slide off him and stand up, straightening my shirt. “It’s was more than okay. Seriously. Thank you for being so understanding.”

Rhysand rises fluidly and grabs his jacket, then turns to me. Before he can speak, I say, “I actually wanted to talk to you about another appointment.”

After an awkward pause, he says quietly, “I don’t really do... repeats.”

“Oh.” There’s no way to hide the disappointment in my voice. 

I’d thought that I’d be able to work with him slowly. Build on what we did tonight. The thought of having to find a different man and explain why I’m so emotionally stunted... shit. 

What if I freak out again, in front of someone new?

Gods, no wonder he doesn’t want to come back. He’s already had to deal with an hour of my trauma. Who would ever sign up to do it again? I’m damaged goods.

“It’s not you, I promise. I’ve just had a few clients get sort of... attached. So I made a policy to not meet with women more than once.” He sounds nice and apologetic, and it grates my nerves a little. 

Rejection is rejection no matter how you look at it. 

And no matter how fucked up I am, I don’t need anyone’s pity.

But, like a big girl, I smile and nod. “I get it. It’s fine. I’ll find someone else. Your money is on the table.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Find someone else? What do you mean?”

My eyebrows fly up at how shocked he sounds. He just saw firsthand how not okay I am, and he’s surprised? 

“I mean that I’ll find someone else. I have intimacy issues, and I need to work on them. I understand completely that you’re uncomfortable with that, and I’ll find someone who isn’t.”

There’s a flicker in his jaw. “And you’re planning on using the website for this someone?”

“It’s really none of your concern.”

“Feyre, there are some not so great people on there. You shouldn’t use-”

My patience snaps. “You have absolutely no right to lecture me. You don’t want the job, I will find someone else, since it’s such a goddamn burden. Now thank you very much for tonight, but you’re community service is done. You can go.”

There are too many emotions on his face to process them all, but I definitely register shock. 

“I promise it isn’t about you, okay? You’re great. Hell, I’d want to sleep with you even if I wasn’t getting paid. But I have a policy, and-”

“Like I said, I understand. You can go now.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Don’t use the site to find another guy.”

There’s something about the command in his voice that grabs every last thread I’m hanging by and rips them free. I march over to him and jab a finger into his chest. “Do not tell me what to do. Ever.”

Rhysand eyes narrow, but it isn’t in anger. It’s like he’s looking at a puzzle, and he just figured out the piece he’d thought would fit won’t. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

I remove the finger-gun from his chest, but he doesn’t make any move to leave. Instead, he catches me completely off guard by saying, “I’ll do four more appointments.”

Rolling my eyes comes a little to easy. “Don’t do me any favors. I’m not your goddamn charity case.”

“No, because if you were, you’d probably be a little grateful.” Whatever retort I had planned dies in my throat. “But it’s not pity. I don’t want you getting hurt by some other guy from the site.”

There’s enough genuine concern in his voice for me to believe him. And the last thing I want is to put myself in danger. 

But I still ask if he’s serious, because to be honest, it sounds perfect. 

If I can fix myself in six appointments. 

That’s a pretty big if. 

“Yes, seriously. But I’m going to charge you more, and we can only meet here.”

I shrug because I sure as hell wasn’t about to invite him to my place. And unless he’s planning on charging enough to buy a house, it should be fine. “Okay.”

He glances at me, then down at himself, like he’s suddenly aware he’s still standing here. “Okay.”

And just like that, I’ve hired a hooker. 

____________________________________________________

Part 2 is here because I have no self-control. Let me know in the comments/my box if you want to be tagged :)

@trinitybailey2003 @zukos-simp @cursebreaker29 @sjmships @starrynightsbooks @lovemollywho @januarystears @perseusannabeth @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @savemesoon8 @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

[jackyjango]

Perfection!

Cherik Week- Day 7: Free

Written for this glorious gifset! :D

I wanted to end this with a happy (and crack) fic, because they deserve to be happy ever after!

---------

If Erik were a poet, he would have written elaborate odes to Charles’ plush arse. Lines and lines of flowing poetry dedicated to the softness of the skin and the firmness of the flesh- the way the tender skin dimples sweetly under Erik’s possessive fingers. If Erik were an artist, he’d fill canvases with the round contours of Charles’ --glorious, might he add-- half globes and his thick, meaty thighs. He’d capture the rosy tint that rises to the skin under the press of Erik’s palm with masterful brush strokes and immortalise the constellation of freckles that dot his skin beautifully. If Erik were so spiritually inclined, he’d build an altar to the sweet flesh, kneel in front of it and apply his tongue to worship. But Erik, fortunately or unfortunately, is none of those things, so all he can do now is simply ogle the marvelous in front of him- Charles’ round ass and thick thighs, and the way it fills his jeans. The fact that it wiggles in the air now and then from where Charles is bent over to search something behind the mantle is only spurring on his endeavour. So he stares some more, mouth agape and throat dry, and marvels to himself, ‘Perfection!’

‘What was that?’ Charles asks, turning sideways towards Erik.

Erik doesn’t find the need or mood to answer that question, so he goes back to ogling his boyfriend’s arse.

Charles turns to him after a minute or two of searching. He’s panting, hair beautifully tousled, cheeks deeply coloured and eyes twinkling bright in the golden candlelight. For a moment Erik’s breath catches. Now, Erik’s not a poet, but if were-

‘I couldn’t find any more candles,’ Charles says, cutting Erik’s musings short. ‘What about the generator, were you able to fix it?’

‘No,’ Erik shrugs. ‘The battery inside the generator has corroded and the plastic coating has melted into the canisters. It’ll take me at least a day to repair it.’

‘Okay.’ Charles drawls, no doubt weighing in their options. ‘How far is the nearest town? Maybe we could get some help.’

Erik had already considered that option. The nearest town is a three-hour trek downhill. A three-hour trek which is a waste of time and energy. Time and energy which can be spent in more… productive endeavours. 

Charles overhears that thought. ‘What are our other options here, Erik?’ He asks, sighing heavily, ‘The wires are out, so is the generator, and we can’t even get help.’ He looks around the small space of the cabin that is lighted in patches by the three candles they were able to unearth earlier. The candles will last them till daybreak at best. ‘Did you have a plan for the evening?’ Charles asks hesitantly.

‘Plan?’

‘Yes,’ Charles says slowly now, his eyes widening with every word. ‘I thought this was meant to be a surprise for me, so I didn’t pry earlier. But I thought you had a plan for the evening.’

Why would Erik have a plan for the evening when the whole point was to have no plans at all? 

The last three weeks had been extremely difficult for all of them, between the mid-terms and the festivities and the birthday celebrations, both of them had been extremely busy-- Charles with teaching and grading, and Erik, well, with… everything else. Erik hadn’t been able to hold a proper conversation with Charles without one of the brats dragging Charles away. Erik hadn’t been able to take a quiet smoke break without one of the younger ones pulling on his trouser legs. It had been tolerable in the beginning, adorable even, but it had begun to lose its charm sometime during the second week. And Erik was sure to go ballistic by the end of the third. All he wanted was to get away for a day or two from the brats, have a quiet night away from the kids and the mayhem of the mansion. He’d all but kissed Raven when she’d mentioned a cabin upstate that could be rented this time of the year. Of course, he’d expected the said cabin to have a working electrical system and dry logs resting in the fireplace, but that isn’t a huge setback as far as Erik is considered. He’s lived worse.

Of course Charles overhears that thought. His jaw drops and his eyes go wide as saucers. ‘You made me trek three hours and brought me here just so you could get away from the kids?’

Erik doesn’t see what’s wrong with that. 

Charles is all but glaring him down now, his sharp, blue eyes throwing daggers at Erik. Erik should be intimidated by the look, but Charles’ overall appearance doesn’t support him all that much. He’s panting lightly with pinked cheeks and hair sticking out in places. If anything, he looks extremely adorable. Now, Erik’s not an artist, but if he were-

‘I thought you brought me here to celebrate our anniversary,’ Charles says finally, glaring intensified.

‘Anniversary?’ Erik asks dumbly. ‘What anniversary?’

Apparently, it’s the wrong thing to ask, because Charles is practically seething now. ‘Our third year anniversary. Since when we began dating.’

‘Oh, has it been three years already?’ Erik asks, and it only serves in adding fuel to the fire. 

In Erik’s defense, though, the period between the time they met, and they settled into a relationship is all very hazy. Erik doesn’t know exactly when he’d been charmed by Charles to call him his friend, he doesn’t know exactly when Charles had wormed his way into Erik’s heart, he doesn’t know exactly when the school they’d started with a few students began to feel like family, and he doesn’t know exactly when he’d begun falling in love with Charles. Though Charles terms them as thus, all those chess matches played every night for months on end and taking private dinners away from the congregation of the students hadn’t felt like ‘dates’ to Erik. Partly because he didn’t know or have experience with dating and partly because he’d had no clue what love felt like before Charles. Besides, he’d no idea whether or how they’d celebrated the first two-year anniversaries.

Of course, Charles overhears his thought, for his anger abates slowly. ‘Oh, what do I do with you, Erik?’ he asks, tone exasperated and fond; like he does when one of his younger students refuses to eat their greens.

‘Marry me.’ Erik shrugs casually. ‘Simple.’

Charles gapes at him like a fish while his mental fingers rummages through Erik’s brain for signs of a joke or a prank. But Erik isn’t joking or pranking. Granted that he was slow to realise that he loved Charles, but there was no doubt in his mind that he’d marry anyone else once he did. He’d end up marrying Charles one way or another. So it doesn’t really matter when or how that happens. Does it?

And of course, Charles hears all of it.

‘We don’t even have a ring,’ Charles says at last, a little lost.

No. Erik doesn’t. He could always fashion a ring out of one of the nails holding the wood planks in place, but Erik doesn’t want to make a ring out of rusted and cheap metal. Charles deserves only the best. 

‘No,’ Erik agrees. ‘We don’t. But we do have this.’ He removes the silver chain that permanently resides in the pocket of his trousers and moves towards Charles, cupping the chain and the locket in his palm. Each curve of the locket bears a black and white photo of his father and Mother. Erik falls to one knee in front of Charles and holds out the chain in one hand. If Erik were a poet, he’d write elaborate love poems describing his love and affection for Charles, but he isn’t. So he simply says, ‘I promise to make you tea just the way you like it and give you scalp massages every day for the rest of our lives.’

‘Yes, you idiot. I’ll marry you,’ Charles chokes out and throws himself into Erik’s arms.

Later when they’ve dragged in all the ragged cushions and rugs from all parts of the cabin and made love in a warm nest (and after Erik worships Charles’ and his arse with all the reverence he deserves) surrounded by three grand candles that Erik asks Charles, ‘This is not so bad as anniversaries go, is it?’

‘No, my love’ Charles says, gazing adoringly at the silver locket on his chest and looks up at Erik. ‘It’s perfect!’ he says, kissing Erik sweetly on the lips.

-

[you-cant-spell-subtext-without]

I know we are all discussing the latest episode of Season 16, but I need to wrap up 11 for my own sanity (because there is a LOT to discuss in my Season 12 rewatch already), so without further ado - more rambling for you.

I’m not going to include 11x20: Don’t Call Me Shurley because I think I’d like to do an entire Chuck - arc - series.  Rob Benedict is a gift; that dad mug kills; and I love that the fan theories about Chuck spinning around this fandom for years turned out to be correct after all (WEIRD HOW THAT HAPPENS WITH CHARACTERS EH).  Moving on.

As you will recall, two recaps and many many many crackhead other posts from my corner of super hell ago, I ended the 11x18 recap with this image of Amara realizing...”something” after Dean said Cas’s name (just before she took Casifer with her), Dean/Amara unbreakable connection be damned. Speaking of unbreakable connection this post is partially the AMARA DISSERTATION.  Buckle up.

FF to 11x21: All in the Family; the boys are shooting the shit with Chuck and in the meantime, Amara is torturing Casifer.  Important to note that just recently the actual Cas was enlightened that Dean wants him to cast Lucifer out, so I presume he is a little more active at this point, and that strengthens the following hypothesis.  Look how Amara is looking at Casifer here:

And here, right before she touches him on the chest.

It’s the same look she gave Dean. She’s trying to decipher something; trying to figure something out. 

She appears to Dean in the VERY next scene, to show him how she is torturing Casifer.  But the real point is, of course, to show him how its affecting the physical form of Cas, reminding him its not just Lucifer who is suffering.  It works.  

DEAN 

Amara is – she's in my head. [Sam looks at him sharply] Hey, I didn't ask for it, okay? She just showed up. But she's showing me visions of – of Lucifer. By Lucifer, I mean Cas, and he looks like crap – like she's really doing a number on him.

***Note, yet again, despite the *connection* Amara/Dean supposedly share, all he can think about and talk about is Cas.

And Amara knows it.  That’s the realization she has in 11x18.  Dean loves Cas.  Then, in 11x21 she realizes Cas loves Dean.  So, she uses it to her own ends.  Smart girl.  

Enter Donatello (I love him), prophet of (not) the Lord.  He, Metatron, and Sam set out to rescue Casifer while Dean distracts Amara.  If we start with the presumption she now has the prior additional insight, the following snippets of dialogue hit a little different.

AMARA

This place, this world hasn't been especially easy for you. Why not at least consider my offer?

*********

DEAN

You're right. I am drawn to you. And it bothers the hell out of me, 'cause I can't control it.

AMARA

Then why fight it? What you're feeling is that I am the end of your struggle. 

***AHEM, this was not the FACE CUPPING I requested.

What keeps Dean from having it all?  What is his struggle?  It’s not the monsters or the hunting.  Dean’s repeatedly shown he loves this life; he doesn't want anything else (and the one time he did try it in Season 6, it was half-ass at best, and he left the minute Sam returned to go back to hunting).  Dean’s KEY struggle in the show is internal.  He represses his feelings, pushes his pain aside, resulting in a cycle of self-loathing and anger.  That cycle keeps him from having it all - accepting he can be loved, allowing himself to give his heart to someone else.  And at this point, Amara not only knows that someone else is Cas, she knows that Cas feels the same way.  Girl, welcome to super hell.  Take a damn seat by Sam.

11x22: We Happy Few

I’ll skim through this one so this post doesn’t completely make your eyes bleed due to the sheer length.  

The splicing with the scenes of everyone assembling different factions to form the new “line-up” needed to trap Amara is excellent. I’ve already done a short post on the brilliance of Dean heading to get Crowley and the ex-boyfriend mood of it all (Dean, of all people, telling Crowley to sober up gives me an ENTIRE head canon of the Crowley/demon!Dean unseen dynamic in Season 10).   And of COURSE Dean knows exactly what to say to convince Crowley to get on board. I also enjoy our future Sam-witch as the emissary to Rowena (”three’s a coven” would be a great tattoo, TBH).

BONUS:

I love her.

Big fight scene with Amara ensues, but this isn’t the finale so she cannot be beaten.  However, right before she mortally wounds Chuck, she does this:

[Yelling, LUCIFER charges her from behind again, but AMARA flings him hard against a support pillar across the room.]

AMARA

Goodbye, nephew.

[She banishes LUCIFER. CASTIEL slumps unconscious to the floor.]

DEAN: Cas! 

(He rushes AMARA, but she flings him away without effort.)

***She banishes Lucifer.  She could have just killed him.  Ended him entirely, and Cas along with him.  But she BANISHES LUCIFER.  Because of what she learned in the prior episode.  Because of the pain she saw in both of those idiots.

She does this for Dean.

Anyway, thank you Casifer FOR YOUR SERVICE.  I miss you already.

11x23: Alpha and Omega

There is nothing more precious than Dean sending his brother to check on GOD while he goes to check on his boyfriend:

DEAN: [Grunting]

Check on him.

SAM: [kneels next to Chuck]

Hey. Chuck?

[Dean kneels down next to Cas and puts a hand on his shoulder. Cas stirs and looks up at Dean]

CAS:

Dean.

DEAN:

Cas? Hey, is that you?

***All the heart eyes for the reunion!!

*********ALSO SHOULDERRRRRRRR

Chuck is dying, Rowena bonds with him.  Crowley is gold in this finale.  I MISS YOU MARK.  This line is NOT in the transcript/script I used, and it potentially being ad libbed makes it even better.

Dean decides to deal with the end of the world by drinking ONE beer, then deciding there is “not enough” beer and grabbing Cas for a beer (and....*feelings*) run.

DEAN:

You know what? This isn't gonna be enough. I better make a run.

[Sighs]

No reason to die sober, huh?

[to Sam]

You want to?

SAM: [frustrated] 

No!

*********************

DEAN:

Be right back.

SAM:

I'll stay here, find our Plan B.

DEAN:

Okay. Cas, come on.

Nothing makes me more pleased than the assumption that of COURSE Cas is coming with him.  I mean, he just got him back.  Also, Sam is frustrated because he is back in super hell, obvi ;)   

***Now we have the little “you’re our brother” bit in the Impala beer run dialogue, but to me it’s because Dean doesn’t know how else to express what he’s feeling.  Repression, people.  

The look of literal PAIN on Cas’s face at the “brother” line makes me cackle.  Misha Collins DESERVES AN EMMY; he is doing the Lord’s work with his Acting Choices here.

This little part before is what really gets me though, especially with all of the WORDS OF AFFIRMATION:

[Dean and Cas are driving in the Impala]

DEAN:

How you doing? You good?

I mean, you know, the whole Lucifer thing.

CAS:

I was just... so stupid.

DEAN:

No, no, no. It wasn't stupid.

You were right. You were right to let Lucifer ride shotgun.

Me and Sam wouldn't have done that.

CAS:

Well, it didn't work.

DEAN:

No, but it was our best shot, and you stepped up.

CAS:

I was just trying to help.

DEAN:

Well, and you do help, Cas.

***ITS JUST SO LOVELY.  Dean asking Cas how he is doing (what Cas always asks Dean); telling Cas he wasn’t stupid (throwback to Cas telling Dean he was stupid “for the right reasons”); acknowledging that Cas does HELP.  That he is important and appreciated.  THIS IS SUCH GROWTH.  I LOVE IT SO MUCH. Speak his love language, King.

Anyway, then Dean turns into a human bomb because martyr!dean gonna martyr and be “daddy’s (Chuck filling that role here) blunt little weapon” and we get -

THE DESTIEL GOODBYE. Tell me they didn’t actually go canon for the FIRST time here.  I will fight you.

LOOK at Cas watching him in the background. 

These fucking desolate eyes. I’m crying.

THEY JUST GOT EACH OTHER BACK -  

(I recognize this .gif is meh quality but I love that he turns and walks to him and Cas just GRABS him in this crushing hug)

DEAN [accepts the hug good-naturedly but then looks sad]

Okay, okay.

***”good naturedly??? ok Jensen “Acting Choices” Ackles. That is not “good nature” that is BLISS.

AND THEN THIS -

SOBS IN ENOCHIAN.

***I literally had to remind myself that the reunion hug is coming; it’s just an episode away.  I’ll make y’all feel better too; here it is - A PERFECT PARALLEL. Curse this show.

MORE OF THIS “GOOD NATURED” HUGGING PLEASE.

Anyways, back to depressing subtext.  

DEAN:

Okay, look. I want a big funeral.

All right? I'm talking epic.

Okay? Open bar, choir, Sabbath cover band, and Gary Busey reading the eulogy.

*****This scene lives in my mind rent-free as PROOF 15x20 doesn’t exist.

I can’t skip over further growth in Dean’s goodbye to Sammy.

***He’s being serious. Seasons 1-3 Dean would never have admitted this.  I was a blubbering mess at this point.

So, Dean heads to Amara, and the rest of the gang heads to the bar.

CROWLEY:

Your round, Moose.

***I would love an entire bottle episode of Crowley, Sam, Rowena, and Chuck at that bar TBH.

And then, Dean saves the day.  BUT NOT by dying and sacrificing himself, letting himself be used as a weapon of mass destruction.  No, he fixes the DAMN WORLD by connecting to Amara emotionally, and bringing her and Chuck back together, because he understands that not to be alone is what she really needs; that her own struggle is the same as his - letting in love instead of raging against it and fighting her own need for companionship.   Because that’s where ELDEST SIBLING AMARA AND Dean Winchester CONNECT.  Amara isn’t in love with Dean.  She identifies with Dean.  She sees her own feelings in him, her own pain, and that’s why she exorcises Lucifer and saves Cas - FOR Dean.  Amara’s just a Dean girl, everyone.   And we know Dean girls protect Cas at all costs.

Yup.  Amara Dean Girl Darkness Heller.  

That’s it.  That’s the dissertation.

See you in Season 12, where I will attempt to figure out the reason behind the British Men of Letters, killing Hitler, the brain melt that is Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox, the comedy of errors that is Cas playing Dean hot and cold, and the Mary Winchester of it all. 

[nightwhite13]

at first i wanna write something serious, but somewhere along the way @vallern came up with a hc and everything went crack from there, and she helped me wrote this even tho she didn’t play the game, ugh her mind. so if u asking us about plot, tone, etc? we dont know her. this set in distant future or an au idk, no one knows

anyway, stay strong during this trying time, fellow clowns

tagging @somewillwin @uhh-the-green-thing @poppy-sin-clair @malvinghlein @jmojellybae  @simpforpoppy

The sound of your heels echoed between the dull conversation of the other students, still lingering at campus after their class. You ignored the worried glances they throw at you. You didn’t care; it wasn’t the first time they gawked at you nor will it be the last, but this time, it felt different because you fucking knew why they were looking at you, and it’s not because of something good.

Good, bad, neutral.

Once upon a time it’s such a foreign concept for you; after all, everything is acceptable in the name of profit, your father once said to you when he taught you everything you need to know to take over the family’s company.

“Poppy, wait!”

You grit your teeth and walked faster, thankful because unlike some idiot you can actually walk in heels. Hell, you probably could climb Mount Everest with one.

“Poppy, holy shit, stop!”

You ignored him, but you can tell he’s getting closer to you.

You screamed when Carter caught up with you. He tugged your wrist until you stopped walking, almost making you fall because of the sudden movement.

“Let go of me, you idiot!” You hissed as you yanked your hand away from his big hand.

“Look, it wasn’t her fault!” Carter said between his panting.

Your cheeks burn, remembering what you just saw a few minutes ago. “I don’t care whose fault…”

“Persephone kissed her, okay, we were just hanging around waiting for you and…”

“Why are you even waiting for me?” You know your class was going to take forever so you told Bea to go on ahead with everyone else and you can go there with Uber or something since you just had a fight with your parents and they forbid Samuel to pick you up. You don’t want to hear the jocks complaining because you disturbed their lunch scheduled–and they called you drama queen–so you thought it's better if Bea and the others leave first.

Carter looked at you softly. “You’re our friend; of course we’re going to wait for you.”

You looked away, unable to keep looking at Carter's super cute dimple. “I don’t remember ever being friends with himbo.”

Carter laughed. “Look, if you don’t believe me, just see Veronica’s Pictagram, okay? She’s doing a livestream of us catching grapes with our mouth.”

“What the hell?” You better keep Bea away from these himbos, otherwise she would turn into one. Not that it would be that hard, since Bea had half of a functional braincell on her best day.

“Look, just, just see it for yourself, okay? Bea didn’t kiss Persephone, she caught her off guard. It wasn’t Bea’s fault, Poppy.”

“And why is she not here? Why is she not the one that chases me? Are you her minion now?” It’s not like you ever imagined a scenario where Bea chased you down like in those romance movies you secretly love starring midwestern America's favorite white actress, Reese Witherspoon, no.

“What? No, I’m not yellow, don’t call me a minion. That’s a low insult, Poppy. Even by your standard.”

“Carter, that’s not…”

“Everyone is trying to stop everyone from getting into a fight with Persephone.”

“What?”

“Well, the last time I saw, Chloe is trying to punch Persephone because she kissed Bea out of nowhere, and Ford and Luis are trying to stop her.”

You sighed, if this happened before Bea came into your life, you would probably have said something like she’s my minion, of course she did that. But now, after everything, after all the bad blood between the two of you, it was weird to hear that Chloe actually cared for you. She always has, but you still didn’t understand why would Chloe put up with your bullshit.

“Michael is holding back Zoey from calling her family’s lawyer.”

“What?”

“Zoey said what Persephone did is a sexual assault and she can get Persephone in jail for that.”

You knew that Zoey girl was smart and efficient. A tiny part of yourself was happy for Veronica when they both announced that they’re together now.

“And where’s Bea now? Why is she not here?”

Carter’s forehead crinkled. “Uh, I don’t know.”

“See, she doesn’t care about me! Then why should I fucking care?” You said, yet you actually fucking cared. That was the worst part. “I told Bea that skank is bad news, but what did she make me do? I had to apologize to that bitch! And look what it got me?” You raised your voice, trying to keep your tears at bay and jabbed Carter’s chest. “That bitch kissed my…” Girlfriend, you wanted to say, yet you swallowed the word back and it made your throat hurt.

The two of you haven’t talked about your status, not yet. Both of you had so many issues to deal with, and by the time it’s done, reality slapped you and reminded you that finals were just three months away. You couldn't afford to slack off; not if you wanted a relatively free summer vacation away from your parents' nagging and not-so-hidden disappointment.

“Look, Poppy…” Carter touched your wrist again.

“Don’t touch me!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Carter raised his hands in surrender. “Look, just… Hey, Poppy, wait!”

You didn’t need to hear your stupid ex-boyfriend apologize in behalf of your stupid…

Stupid ex-something.

__________________________________________________________

Thankfully, no other idiots were stupid enough to stop you from going to your dorm. You slammed your door hard, ignoring a voice that sounded like your parents’ at the back of your mind, angry at you for your childish behavior. ("Do not slam your door on me, young lady!")

You growled angrily when you realized you were wearing Bea’s new jacket, the jacket you gave to her a few weeks ago. It’s not that you were trying to change her style. Honestly, all those times you were mocking her style was maybe, just a little maybe, because you liked her, just a tiny bit. You'd rather die than to actually say that to her face, though.

Good girls don’t fall in love with another girl, Poppy.

Your parents' words kept echoing inside your head every time your heart beat faster whenever you saw Bea, and you were always listening to your brain instead of your heart. You still felt guilty every time you enjoyed bickering with her and pushing her buttons, because she made you feel alive. It was wrong. It was wrong and yet it was all you can feel whenever you think about her. Before you knew it, Bea had wormed her way into your brain, and now she lived in your head rent-free.

You ripped Bea’s jacket and threw it to the floor after taking off your heels. You looked over to Bea’s red jacket, lying on the floor with the back facing you. Bea still had that mindset where she wouldn’t spend money to pamper herself. “Jacket is a jacket, babe. Why do I need to buy something expensive if I don’t like it?”

So you tried to find something that Bea liked and it wasn't that expensive. Honestly, you were surprised with Taylor’s ability to find stores that sold medium-quality clothes and actually looked good. It was a marvel, your friendship, ugh you want to barf every time you say friendship, with Taylor. You never knew that thank you and please had so much power to control people. Whoever said you can catch more flies with honey was right.

You thought that maybe you should take a really nice and long bath to relax and forget everything that happened. But on another side, you were curious with what Carter said. He might be a himbo, but he’s no liar. So you opened your Pictagram and sure enough, Veronica’s livestream was the first thing you saw. You wanted to click it, but then Veronica might know that you see her livestream, and you didn’t want her to know. So you used your rarely used picta.

 ____________________________________________________________

“Okay, so how are we doing this?” You could hear Veronica’s voice; she was recording Bea, standing between Carter and Luis. Suddenly, Veronica moved the camera, and you saw Chloe talking with Taylor, but you couldn’t really hear what they were saying.

When the camera was focused on Bea again, Michael stood next to Carter, holding a bag of green grapes.

“Simple, Louis will throw grapes at me and I’ll try to catch it with my mouth.” Bea said with a smirk.

“And I’ll catch Michael’s throw.” Carter pointed to himself with both of his thumbs.

You heard Zoey's groan, because how clear her voice was, like Veronica’s, you had a hunch that she probably sat next to her girlfriend. “Babe, that sounds dangerous. Can you do something that doesn’t have any probability with either one of you end up in the hospital?”

Veronica laughed and now she was filming Zoey’s frowning face. “Let them, it’s good for the view.”

“Babe, no!” Zoey pushed Veronica’s shoulder, probably, but it only made Veronica chuckle.

“Come on, are you guys doing this or what?” Chloe yelled from her place, she’s eating that spicy chips your great-aunt bought from Indonesia during her vacation there. Ford was sitting next to her, and she slapped his hand when he tried to take the chips bag from her.

“Michael, didn't Trixie ask you to buy grapes?” Zoey said. “Isn’t that your girlfriend’s grapes?”

Everyone groaned at the same time, while Michael slapped his forehead while looking at the bag. “Oh shit, I forget!”

“Zoey, stop being a voice of reason for once!” Bea yelled.

Veronica’s camera was still focused on Bea and the jocks, and honest to god she stomped her foot like a toddler. You couldn’t believe these people once called you drama queen. “Well, I’m sorry, but without Poppy here, I’m the only one with the brain cell left between you intellectually challenged people!” Zoey huffed. She’s right; you’ve lost count on how many times you had to stop Bea and the jocks from doing something stupid and idiotic.

“Hey, I’m not that stupid! You take that back!” Veronica moved the camera to Chloe right before Chloe threw a chip at Zoey, both of them gasped in surprise. Thankfully, the chip landed at the table.

“Veronica, come on, record us!” Bea whined.

“Are you sure… Oh, Persephone.” Veronica’s voice suddenly went flat.

Your blood boiled when that fucking skank entered Veronica’s camera view. She pushed Luis away from Bea, while Bea waved at her.

“Oh hey, what are you…”

Everything happened all at once.

Persephone pulled Bea by her shirt and kissed her hard. You felt like you want to vomit and your body suddenly felt colder than before, you heard Chloe screamed, “You fucking asshole, let her go!”, and then she lunged forward only for Luis to and Ford to hold her back, while Chloe was kicking and screaming. And then you saw Persephone waved.

And that’s the picture Persephone sent to you and posted it on public for everyone to see. The one that made your world stopped spinning and holding you back from going to find Bea. She could kiss whoever she wanted, you keep telling yourself that, yet your heart shattered with every step you took away from her.

Veronica’s camera suddenly shook the moment Zoey stood up and yelled. “Let her go, or I’ll call the police!”

Michael pushed Persephone away from Bea.

The last thing you saw before the video ended was Bea’s furious face.

 ____________________________________________________________

You sighed deeply and threw your phone to your bed.

You knew it wasn’t Bea’s fault, you knew the moment you saw that bitch's smirk. And yet, you felt like someone burned what's left of your heart with jealousy and anger.

No, it wasn't anger. It was another emotion you haven’t acquainted with, one that is similar to what you always feel every time your parents break their promises to you.

Disappointment.

("We can't go to Seoul this summer, Poppy, Auntie Na-ra is probably busy. Besides, wouldn't it better to spend time with Peter? Help your dad get that tender, will you?"

"But I called Auntie a few days ago and she said she's free anytime!"

"Spending time with Peter is more important, Poppy. You could go see Auntie Na-ra at winter break. This is more important.")

But you didn’t understand why you would feel that way for this kind of situation; it should’ve been anger, consuming you with passion until you burned everything down within your reach.

It should’ve been anger, because you understood anger. It was one of your best friends beside loneliness and fear, you knew it too well and anger understood you like no one ever does.

But instead of the comforting burn of anger, you felt the coldness of disappointment at the bottom of your empty heart.

Before you could analyze this anomaly further, you heard commotion from outside of the Zeta building.  Even before you walk toward your window, you know the source of said commotion.

“Luis, I thought you said your speaker work!” Bea raised her voice.

“Well yeah, that’s before Ford threw my speaker to the freaking wall!”

“Bro, I didn’t know it’s a speaker, okay? It looks like a brick! Why did you even buy that?”

“So you like to randomly throw bricks at walls?”

You folded your arms and watched Luis trying to fix his broken brick speaker from your window. He slapped Ford’s hand away when he tried to touch it.

“No!”

Faintly, you could hear Irene Cara’s voice singing What a Feeling. You tried to keep your face impassive, but it was hard since your body remembered what you usually do while listening to this song. (Trying to copy Jennifer Beal's iconic dance routine and failed, every single time.)

If it wasn’t because Bea spent so much time using your Spotify (premium, thank you so much), you would probably be horrified that she knew your favorite song. You once offered her to pay for the premium, not out of the goodness of your heart, but because she’s kept forgetting to subscribe for premium feature, and you’re so tired hearing the ads every time you actually enjoying the flow of Bea’s playlist. She had, surprisingly, a decent taste in music.

Instead of accepting it like a normal human being, Bea just copied her playlists to your Spotify. Good thing you already tidied up your playlist and you had to make sure that Bea didn’t put a new song there. And also you made sure your private playlist stayed private. You don’t need her to mock you for your anime soundtracks playlist. Bea could say whatever she wanted ("You like a goddamn Naruto song?!") but Flow's GO!!! is an absolute banger and nothing could change your mind, thank you very much.

You almost lost your shit when Bea asked your favorite music genre. Good thing your father trained you well and you could compose yourself and answered diplomatically. You had to bite your tongue when you heard Bea said Hey! Say! Jump! was overrated. The disrespect!

You didn’t talk to her for three days until she begged for your forgiveness. God, your reputation would never recover if people knew that your actual taste was somewhere between a Midwestern white mom and a goddamn middle schooler weeb.

You blinked a few times when you heard the beginning note of Barracuda from Luis’ broken brick speaker. Well, you did accidentally tell Bea that you like this song, who doesn’t anyway? It was a bop.

But you didn’t tell her that your real dream date was actually rollerskating with Barracuda blast in full volume. You didn’t spend 137 dollar and skipped classes for three days straight to watch Birds of Prey nonstop during the first week of its release for nothing. Plus, Margot Robbie beating men with bat and rollerskating? Yes please.

“Yes!” Bea screamed in joy when the speaker was in the right place and actually worked. She looked up to your window, holding the speaker on top of her head. Well, at least she’s not holding her old Xiaomi with its cracked screen, otherwise you would probably—

Never mind, Luis was holding her phone.

You groaned, trying to hide your embarrassment. God, her family is rich now; can’t she spare some of the money to invest in her gadget? You hated it every time you sent her emojis and she was just “Babe, it’s just squares.” Or she just sent a screenshot of your text (she changed your name in her phone, it’s Satan Popsicle now) and it’s rows and rows of squares instead of emojis.

“Poppy, babe, please…”

Before she could say anything else, the sound of Spotify ads suddenly replaced Barracuda, making everyone gasped in surprise.

“What the fuck?!” Bea yelled angrily and looked over to Luis. “Luis, what the hell, man?!”

“Sorry, sorry! I accidentally hit the next button! I didn’t know you didn’t have a premium feature! Who the hell doesn’t have Spotify premium anyway?”

You sighed deeply and rubbed your forehead, already feeling the incoming headache, while everyone was fighting with everyone down there. You saw Bea already hugging Zoey and Zoey was patting Bea’s back in comfort, you couldn’t hear Bea say something, probably she was frustrated because she didn’t use Zoey’s phone or that she blamed herself because she kept forgetting to download the Spotify's premium APK. Probably the latter, since you knew how much she loved that APK. You don't know, you're neither a peasant nor poor enough to go into the world of blackmarket apps. You're too pretty for Android.

You took Chloe’s shoes that you secretly stole from her room. Those shoes were hideous. Getting rid of it was basically a public service. Chloe should've thanked you. Then you threw one of the shoes, but it hit Carter instead of Luis.

“Get lost, all of you.”

“Poppy, what the hell?! How do you even get my shoes?!” Chloe screamed as she took her ugly shoe.

“It's so hideous, Chloe.”

“Oh you’re just jealous because they don’t have your size!”

You gasped and threw the other shoe at Chloe, it only hit her shoulder, damn it. “How dare you! Get lost, all of you, right now!”

“Oh, come on!” Zoey yelled. “It wasn’t Bea’s fault, Satan!”

“I don’t care, new money, get fucking lost!”

Bea held Zoey back and shook her head. “Come on, let’s just go.”

Zoey was torn looking between you and Bea. “Babe, what the fuck. Poppy…”

And then Bea finally looked at you with that soft and understanding smile. You hated it, you once yearned for it.

“It’s okay, come on.” She knew that you need more time, and she’s willing to give it to you because she was that nice.

Veronica was the last one to leave. She raised her eyebrow, but you stood your ground. You saw her type something, but you didn’t really think much of it. Veronica and her phone was one entity anyway.

But then you saw your phone, and it looked like Veronica actually had something to say.

 watch my livestream, youll know the truth

idc bitch

Me & zoey r gonna leave this weekend 2 hang w Jaylen, do whtvr u want with that info

meaning?

idk talk w ur gf or have tons of sex

shes not my gf

lol k

 You huffed loudly and threw your phone to your bed, good thing it didn’t miss or you need to buy a new one, again.

You paced back and forth inside your room; it feels weird without Bea here. Maybe you should go to her room? It wasn't her fault, after all. That fucking whore was to blame. She ruined your life once and while yes, sure, you had your revenge, now she’s back into your life again, and she’s already destroying everything.

You bit your nail, ignoring the sound of your mother from the corner of your mind reminding you not to bite your nails. ("Poppy, I will tie your fingers if I have to. Stop biting your nail, it's crass and disgusting.")

You gritted your teeth and took your phone from your bed and Bea’s old jacket from the floor. If this went wrong, you’re blaming Veronica.

 ____________________________________________________________

“Poppy, what…”

You pushed the door wide open, forcing yourself to get inside Bea’s room. Now you’re standing in front of Bea, unsure what to say. What could you possibly say in this situation, anyway? And you still don’t understand why you felt disappointment. At what, exactly?

When you craned your neck to meet Bea’s eyes, because fuck her for being six foot tall, you finally understood why.

“I hope you slapped that bitch after what she did to you.”

Bea chuckled and shook her head. “No, but I broke her nose.” She raised her eyebrow when you took her hands. “Um, Poppy...”

“Next time, if I told you that you shouldn’t trust a rich kid that isn’t spoiled to the core, listen to me,” you said without breaking eye contact.

Bea sighed. “Okay, I will. I thought it was just your old self talking shit about Persephone.”

“Well, yeah, that too.” You let go of Bea’s hand. “But that skank is basically a bad news.”

“Yeah, whoever thought she would try to get back at you like that?” Bea scratched her neck. “I’m sorry, but can we stop talking about Persephone now? I don’t want to hear her name ever again.”

You nodded.

“Is that all?” Bea raised her eyebrow. “I mean, you can just text me for that.”

You bit your lips. You don’t want to do this, you really don’t. “Okay, you’re right." You tried to fight the urge to say something negative or to backtrack.

Bea’s forehead crinkled. “About what?”

“Kanashimi is better than GO!!!,” you said with a grimace, as if you just swallowed a gallon of poison. Might as well.

Bea laughed loudly. “Finally you admitted that I’m right. Wait, how do you know…”

You never said Bea, you’re so fucking wrong and uncultured, GO!!! is the ultimate opening every time Bea said Kanashimi was way better than GO!!!, you only said that I’m too pretty to heard those songs, but I know you’re wrong.

You ignored her questioning look and climbed into her bed. “I’m using my Netflix’s account since I’m sure you don’t even have a Netflix account. I don’t understand why you’re so adamant to watch from Fmovies. You'd better pay for Netflix than for Nord.” Kids these days with their Netflix and shady streaming sites, they would never understand the feeling reading some batshit subtitle translation or watching thirty parts of videos on YouTube.

“What?” Bea was still standing in the middle of her room like an idiot.

“Well? Do you want to watch Naruto or not?” You huffed, already feeling your cheeks getting warmer. You never showed this side of you to anyone else, and now here you are, baring your soul in front of your ex-nemesis. Yes, you counted opening up a bit about your weeaboo side as baring your soul.

Bea laughed, honest to god laughed out loud while bending over and hands on her knees like you just said one of the greatest jokes in the universe.

You growled lowly in your throat and then you climbed down from her bed. “Fine, spend your weekend on your own then, I don’t care. I have a lot of reading to do anyway.” By reading, you mean there was a new chapter of Gokushufudou that just came out yesterday, but she didn't need to know that.

But Bea stopped you when you’re walking past her; she touched your wrist gently. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh.”

“You did.”

Bea laughed again, that stupid idiot. “Okay, yes, I am. But it’s because you keep saying ‘I’m too pretty to watch anime’ but you know way too much about it.” You just grumbled when Bea said that while doing an impression of you. It’s bad. You were way cuter when you were being haughty.

Before you could say anything, Bea bent down and kissed your forehead. You felt your forehead burned pleasantly from the gentle touch of her lips. “And of course I would love to watch Naruto with you.” She grinned. “After all, I taught you the power of friendship, believe it.”

“I hate you.”

“I know, I hate you too, Miss ‘I’m-too-pretty-for-anime’,” Bea said adoringly. “But we’re going to skip Shippuden, right?”

“Bitch, that’s the best part of Naruto.”

Bea rolled her eyes, but she’s smiling. “You have a bad taste.”

“No, I have a good taste.” You kissed her lips tenderly. “Because I chose you,” you whispered softly.

[hinac0lada]

somber

CHARACTER PAIRING: sugawara koushi/reader NOTE: i tried to do something new!! // listen to this song  too, it’s where i got inspo for the title hehe my love for koushi reignited, so pls take this fic as a very self-indulgent piece ;3 [ banner made by me! ] anyways! i wanna thank everyone in cheese cult - y’all so nice ily all sm<33 WC: like, , 2.2k words pls give love</3 WARNING/S: contains fluff, angst, suggestive themes CHEESE CULT TAGLIST: @cupofkenma @bubbleteaa @milkandc00kiez @writingsbycrackhead​ @fern-writes-ig​ @pineapplekween​ @kxgeyamasmilk​​ GEN TAGLIST: @fitriiaw @idiot-juice-enthusiast 

there was a side to you that sugawara koushi couldn't quite place his hands-on. it irked him in a way that he can't exactly explain. to put it thoroughly, it's like comparing misleading signs - signs he couldn't read. there was a partial thought in the depths of sugawara's mind, will i be in too deep?

he certainly hopes not. it will be a struggle for sure, begetting to deal with taking risks and caching his feelings in check. 

though, in parallel to both his heart and mind, he doesn't mind taking flight in either.

coming over your place was like a natural thing sugawara affixed to his routine after school hours, something nearly akin to second nature. he needn't have to ring the doorbell or knock at the door to have you alerted of his presence. you gave him a spare key after all. he enters your modest residence as if it was his place that he just resided in. he tries to be patient and earnest about it, but fatigue trailing after him like an endless marathon socked him in the face before he could utter words.

the silver-haired setter plants face-first on the soft material of your cushion couch, breathing in the fragrance of the freshly cleaned cute throw pillows you had on for display. he faintly recalls your lavender-like scent, mixed with a tinge bit of vanilla and mocha - a smell so distinct that it essentially revulsed him at how quick he was to recognize the fading scent.

it was perplexingly heartening in his weird ways. (why wouldn't it be, it's your stuff after all)

the sound of the door clicking minutes after his arrival didn't go unnoticed. "ah, sugawara, i didn't expect you to be here so soon," your voice sounded muffled in his ears at how he's buried two pillows against the sides of his face. he'd assumed you to be late (like you always were), so it wasn't a big deal that he constantly manages to somehow get to your home first before you do.

"i thought you had practice today?"

"we do. just need to charge up for now.. not much to make do since finals are coming up and all," was his muffled reply. that was just a simple white lie. he did have practice today - it's just that he was trying to come up with numerous justifications of why he's late. (that or he just wanted to spend a couple of hours lounging about in your home)

you huff at his slothful disposition. you sometimes think sugawara is a little too comfortable with you letting him barge in your house like he even pays for rent. sure, the company he gives you is lively, but you considered having him pay for using you as a live source for shelter and food. 

even with that kind of reasoning, you don't exactly mind nor were you gonna lament.

"humph!" sugawara makes a surprised noise as you jumped on top of him, your weight burying him further on the plushness of the couch. his muffled protests that reached your ears sent you into a fit of small giggles, a free hand coming down to ruffle his blanche, soft and unruly hair.

"(n-name)--! mhmmp!" 

"what was that? sorry, i can't hear you over the sound of your anguish," you snorted, adding a small bounce from your position to add on the burden he feels with you on top of him. 

by now, sugawara was wearied enough just let you do this. it's fine, just harmless fun. but when suffocating between the couch and a long-time crush and having to choose between air and you - you ought to have another thing coming. within minutes of you cackling like mad, he's pulled off the pillows beside him, successfully managing to hit you with one square on the face before he tackled you on the opposite side of the couch.

your chortles were rashly cut short by a surprised yelp and a force that pushed you off on your back. sugawara towered over your figure, triumph evident on his features. you stared right back with slight annoyance and a small blush coating your cheeks. this was new.

"i thought i told you to not suffocate me between your couch anymore, (name)," he sticks his bottom lip out in a small pout. his little complaint only had you rolling your eyes, a chuckle slipping past your lips as you slapped a hand underneath his jawline, moving his face up and away from yours. 

"when have i ever, suga? i don't think i can recall," you subtlely tease him. it was just too fun to poke fun at sugawara - especially acknowledging the fact that he might've purposely came over first instead of going to practice.

he whines, attempting to slap away your hand. instead, he promptly leans his entire weight on you, head finding solace within the soft material of your clothing. it occurred to him that you still haven't changed from your uniform, but he didn't bother commenting on it either.

the two of you laid in comfortable silence for a while. that was until you broke it.

"do you wanna kill some time watching a movie?"

"what kind?"

"anything you want. i'm fine with whatever."

"how about someone great? i haven't watched that yet," sugawara smiles, lifting his head as stares down at your face. you smile back, closing your eyes as a soft chuckle emits from your throat.

"i don't mind."

you two somehow ended up cuddling in the middle of the movie. sugawara questions his morals. it's purely platonic, right? they're best friends, there's nothing else to it. sugawara mostly says this to himself in his head to convince himself that cuddling can be platonic. 

he just wished he could stop thinking of it as something more.

minutes in the movie, he finds himself relating to jenny. it's ironic. maybe he only feels that way because the story is told in her perspective. nothing that derives from his feelings. 

however, something about this moment seemed peculiar to the silverette. he didn't know if it was just him or how your features seemed to be enhanced upon closer inspection.

you were always beautiful in his eyes. he found himself drowning in the warm, earthy tones of your delicate skin. with your hair sprawled out on the surface of the sofa, contrasted by the sheen ruffles of your clothes.

you just looked so innocent, so serene. sugawara knows he shouldn't have. he should've had more self-control. 

but he loses it when he's around you.

he quickly leans down with a puff of excitement growing inside him while tilting his head to the right. his wet lips capture yours, gliding over smooth contrasting with chapped lips. sugawara pulls and bites on your bottom lip, eliciting a pleased sigh from you. his hands squeeze your hips, tongue tracing over your lips for sweet entrance. 

surprised, you grant access, letting him invade your mouth with a versatile tongue, his mouth sucking on your tongue felt like heavenly feathers. your lips smacked against his, pulling apart warm and wet tongues before darting back in with even more vigor. the intensity develops - heartbeats clamoring with painful bliss against your ribcages. you didn't pay attention to the movie anymore, too engrossed in each other's euphoria to divert consideration elsewhere.

this was wrong. sugawara knew that. but he couldn't pull himself away - not yet. the feeling of your body so close to his felt so right. you pull away first, lungs hopelessly and greedily sucking in the air but this was short-lived as his hand only pushed your head back, with noses bumping as he further divulged into the frenzy hot, steamy kiss with a groan. 

he couldn't get enough.

it was sort of surprising as to how he was the first to pull away. a dense tint of red adorned his cheeks, breath heavy, and pupils blown wide wistfully as he sought to steer his gaze away from your plump and oh-so red lips. the sight burned itself into his mind. underneath him with half-lidded eyes, you took in gasps of air, chest rising up and down from how wild and the present fierceness behind it just blew you away.

sugawara shifts away from you, his body heat leaving yours had you feeling cold. "i-i.." he stammers, words clogged up as his mind was still fogged up with the steamy makeout that just happened. he couldn't get it off his mind. (what was he thinking?)

your gaze was fixated on nothing, still too lost from the hysteria and the feeling of his mouth on yours just a moment ago. it didn't submerge in till he stood up with haste from the sofa, bowing his head while he repeatedly apologized for his brash actions all the while with a flustered and guilty expression.

"i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry! i don't know what came over me--! i'm sorry if i made you feel so uncomfortable!" with hasty movements, he gets up and picks up his things. a part of him is dying with embarrassment and screaming that he needs to leave, while the other wants to stay and discuss what the hell just happened.

you, on the other hand, were silent as a rock. you held up a hand to your lips, tracing over remnants of his margin on yours - the boundary between you two felt suffocating.

when you still didn't reply, he ends up leaving anyway, with a false promise of seeing you another day along with another wave of apologies. you still stayed starstruck on the sofa, hand hovering over your mouth.

your lips tingled and the memory of the kiss had the apples of your cheeks blossom with a cherry red tint.

sugawara had been avoiding you for nearly a week since the happy accident that happened at your house. you asked (keyword; tried) daichi and asahi on why the third year acted this way. they both shared the same answer. 

there was too much at stake.

you racked your brain to understand their vague answers, but none of which you thought could help you with your dilemma. this was stupid. it was just a kiss (tl; a heavy makeout session). why did he spare the need to talk about it? you decided enough was enough. you had - no, need to confront him now.

you pleaded daichi to have sugawara excused for a while just so you could talk. the former seems to have no qualms in letting the aforementioned male. daichi mentions sugawara himself has been feeling quite down in the dumps. he profusely requested that you make amends with the setter. it was disheartening to see the usually jovial and tranquil male all grim.

"sugawara, please," you stop the male as soon as he exited the main building. he tried desperately to avoid you all week. this is, yet again, the same mistake he's done before. running away when confronting your souls.

"we should talk about it."

"talk about what? there's nothing up for discussion." stop avoiding the topic.

"no, as a matter of fact, there is. what's with you? why have you been avoiding me all week-" you place a hand on his shoulder, but he flinched at the touch. you took a step back with eyes filled with a weary, hurt, and guilty conscience.

sugawara thinks point on black and white. he couldn't begin to explain why he did that nor does he want to. things won't be the same anymore. 

you sigh heavily, head tilting down to glare harshly on the ground near the soles of your feet. "what are we, koushi?"

i had hoped something more, "we're just friends," he swallowed down the spite in his throat.

"what kind of friends do that kind of thing?" the chuckle that left your mouth had no humor to it. dusky irises trailed over your plethoric lips once more, recollecting the kiss yet again. sugawara mentally scorns himself.

"it's not worth the fight, koushi." you try and meet his eyes in which he reciprocates with a gaze filled with anxiety and guilt. you take a hold of his hands, rubbing circles on his knuckles - something you usually did to calm his nerves. his lips quivered as he forced himself to let go. to let you go.

unspoken words met with an umbra of fleeting eyes. there's no turning back. sugawara didn't want to risk losing something great. someone like you, at the very least.

"i'm sorry," he lowly mutters, letting go of your hand as he slowly turns towards the other direction, already yearning for your touch on his arm. it had to be this way, right? there wasn't a time where sugawara neglected to count all of his mistakes.

mistakes of one in a million. 

you felt small as sugawara slowly but surely slipped away from your grasps. with a weak voice, you called out to him, in hopes that he'd answer your calling and return once more to your arms. although his retreating figure showed no assurance of such, you wished you could've thought of ways to seek closure.

just one more kiss. one more cuddle. one more possibility to make amends that you hoped to be endless. but those possibilities only made chances for you and  him - not you together.

[wormstacheangel]

Breakup Over Insecurities

Dean has never been happier than he is now with his long time boyfriend, Castiel. Then Cas pops the question and Dean decides to fuck everything up.

Read it on [AO3]

-

Dean stood by his car watching Cas's family help Cas pack stuff into boxes. Dean was hoping that by the time he came home they would all be gone but that wasn't the case. Now Dean had to fight the urge to yell at everyone to put it all back. To scream at Cas, beg him, to make it work but he knew this was for the best. Cas wanted a life with him. One with wedding rings, a house, and little munchkins running around them. Dean knew that already, he knew all along that it was Cas's end goal. He always wanted to be a father with a big family like his own. 

But Dean, as much as he wanted the same thing, he was scared. 

It has been 5 years since he found Cas, tucked away in the back of the library with papers scattered all over him and glasses falling off the edge of his nose. It was so easy to fall in love with that deep chuckled laugh and nose crinkled smile. Every day felt like time was speeding up or slowing down just for them and Dean knew that Cas was the one for him on their third date. 

Now the love of his life was leaving him for good. No more fights or discussions over this. No more waiting. No more relationship. 

They have been fighting for over a week because Dean has said no to Cas's proposal.

"I like what we have now? Why do we have to change that?"

"I like what we have too, Dean, but I want more! I want to be married to you!"

"I just-" Dean couldn't look at Cas as his own heart was breaking. "I can't."

Cas left that night. It was the first time Dean has slept alone in a bed over the course of their relationship and he didn't get a wink of sleep. Cas didn't stay the night for a whole week. Every time he would come over they only ever ended up fighting.

"Are you embarrassed of me?"

"No!" Dean quickly said wanting to pull Cas into a tight embrace but fought the urge since Cas has already told him not to touch him. "Sweetheart, that's not it."

"Then why, Dean? Why won't you marry me? Why won't you tell your family about me? My family loves you. My friends love you. Why is our family here not enough for you? Why am I not enough for you?"

"Cas," Dean scrubbed his face with his hand as he tried to figure out what to say. "My dad-"

"Don't give me that excuse, Dean! I know your Dad is a homophobic asshole but why do we have to, why do you have to, live up to his standards? Your mother will still love you! Sam will still love you! I will still love you!"

But Dean couldn't move past it. His father's words echoed in his brain, getting louder with every passing day that Cas was away.

Now he lost him.

Dean couldn't stand there anymore. Instead, he got back in his car and drove the two-hour drive to visit his little brother.

He must have looked as tired and defeated as he felt because the flash of concern that appeared on Sam's face as soon as he saw Dean was obvious.

"Dude, what the hell happened to you? You look...awful."

"Nice seeing you too, Sammy."

"Oh, sorry, I was just surprised is all. What are you doing here? Where's Cas?"

"Gone." Dean pushes pass Sam and walks into his apartment, headed to the fridge for a beer.

"Gone? What do you mean gone?" Sam closes the door behind him and stalks after Dean for answers. "What did you do?"

Dean pops the cap off the beer and glared at his brother as he answered. "Nothing! He left because he wanted too." Then took a swig of the cheap beer wishing for something stronger but Sam doesn't keep any good stuff in his place.

Sam crosses his arms over his chest. "I doubt that. Dean, what happened?"

Sam looked at him with those big eyes of his and Dean thought, what the heck? Cas is gone so might as well come out and say it.

"He-he um," Nope it was too hard. He can't. He can't have his little brother look at him in disgust and disappointment. He can't risk losing his boyfriend and brother all in one night. So Dean shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you, Sam!"

"Did you two break up or something?" Sam said it so casually that it made Dean almost spit out his beer but he ended up choking on it instead. The bubbles going up to his nose as he coughed. Sam took a step towards him, ready to pat his back, but Dean took a step away from him as he held his hands up to stop his brother. 

"Break up?" He finally coughed out when he had enough air.

Sam only nodded, eyebrows scrunching together, as he frowned at Dean. "Or did you two just fight? I didn't think you guys fought much. You guys seemed like two sides of the same coin." He playfully added with a twitch of a smile.

"Sam, what the hell are you talking about? Cas and I aren't-" Dean tried his usual annoyed defense but Sam only looked at him with one eyebrow raised. As if saying 'really dean?' So Dean just sighed in defeat. "When the hell did you find out?"

"Five years ago."

"F-five- Sam! you knew the whole time?"

"Of course, I did! You're an idiot! Do you think I wouldn't notice my dumbass brother falling in love right in front of me? It was always 'Cas said this.' 'Cas did that.' If I wasn't so happy for you I would have punched you."

"This whole time I could have talked to you about...Then why didn't you tell me?"

"I was waiting for you to tell me!"

"And you don't...You don't think it's bad?"

"Bad? What that you like guys? No, of course not, Dean! Is that why you never told me? You think I wouldn't like it?"

"I was scared you would look at me differently. Act like-"

"Like Dad?" Dean only gave a stiff nod in response. "When have I ever agreed with anything Dad said? Dean, you're my big brother, and I support you no matter who you love. Plus, I like Cas."

"Yeah," Dean felt the lump in his throat as he put the beer down on the counter cause he'll be damn if he came out to his little brother and cry in front of him in the span of five minutes. "I liked him too."

"Are you going to tell me what happened?"

So Dean does and he only got yelled at, again, for being a dumbass.

"You can't let Dad fuck with your life all the time, Dean! I know he's hurt you but you got move on from it or you're really gonna end up losing your one chance of happiness!"

"It's not that easy, Sam!"

"Stop making it difficult then! Care about your own damn self for once, Dean, and stop caring about what others think of you!"

"Cas is already gone anyway. So what's the point in standing up to Dad now!"

"Cause you know Cas isn't really gone, Dean. What he wants, you can still give him that. You can still do that for him. For both of you."

Dean thought it over for just a second, all he really needed is to picture Cas's laughing face, for him to nod in agreement. He looked back at his brother as he whispered, "Come with me?"

So Dean drove down to his parent's house with his brother by his side.

Mom opened the door, and just like Sam, the happy smile turned into concern. 

"Mom? Dad? I need to talk to you both." Dean finally said as he sat his parents down on the couch. Sam stood behind the couch with a comforting smile and gives Dean the thumbs up to continue.

So he did. He got everything off his chest.

There was a lot of yelling. A lot more crying. Followed by more yelling and Dean having to stop Sam from landing a punch on his Dad. All in all, it ended much better than Dean thought. Dad only kicked them out of the house and told them not to show their faces to him again. 

Dean expected to feel anything but relieved but it was such an overwhelming feeling that when Dean got back in the car with his brother he just started to laugh or cry he wasn’t sure which one but the load off his back was gone. His dad's voice was gone. He was free from him. 

When Dean got his head to focus again he drove straight home, hoping Cas would still be there. 

And there in the steps of their rented shared place sat Cas, with one last box by his side but nobody else was there. 

Cas got up as soon as Dean parked and he looked angry, annoyed, but then confused when he saw Sam getting out of the passenger seat. The words Cas probably wanted to yell out at Dean were swallowed down and replaced with, "Sam? What are you doing here?"

Sam shrugged with a big grin on his face. "Dean dragged me out here for some reason."

"Dean?" Cas looked annoyed because he thought Sam didn't know about them so he can't act like a mad boyfriend in front of him. "What's going-?"

Cas didn't have time to finish his sentence as Dean closed the distance between them and pressed their lips together into a hard kiss. Cas was shocked by his action that he pulled away quickly, not taking a step back, but looked at Dean with wide eyes. "D-Dean?"

His eyes rested on Sam as if to remind him that he was there but Sam only chuckled. 

"He knows already, Sweetheart."

"He does? You-you told him?"

"No, he already knew apparently but he made me see how stupid I have been. Hiding you away instead of showing you off."

"Dean but your father-"

"Screw him!" Dean cheerfully said. "He told me I was dead to him and I'm just gonna return the favor. Now he won't get a chance to meet his grandkids."

"Grandkids!"

"I mean if you still want to have some!"

"I-I do." Cas blushing cheeks and growing smile

"Then let's have a whole band of kids."

Cas chuckled and nodded. "Sounds like a good plan."

"Cas, can you ask me again? I want to change my answer. A do-over so ask me again. Please."

Cas eyes soften up as he reached to take Dean’s hand, taking a step forward, as he looked back at Dean with a little hesitation but with all the love in the world. "Dean, will you marry me?"

"Yes." Dean answered just as Cas finished, making him laugh and it made Dean’s stomach flip. He couldn’t imagine living his life without him. “Yes. Yes. Fuck yes, I’ll marry you.”

[dvp95]

quiet on widow’s peak (6)

pairing: dan howell/phil lester, pj liguori/sophie newton/chris kendall rating: teen & up tags: paranormal investigator, mystery, online friendship, slow burn, strangers to lovers, nonbinary character, trans character, background poly, phil does some buzzfeed unsolved shit and dan is a fan word count: 2.9k (this chapter), 19.7k (total) summary: Phil’s got a list of paranormal experiences a mile long that he likes to share with the world. Abandoned buildings, cemeteries, and ghost stories have always called his name, and a particular fan of his has a really, really good ghost story.

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

Hope my friends and I didn't make things weird for you yesterday. We're heading to the city around noon if you're still up for helping us with the boring part.

noon?? fucking alright i guess i gotta put pants on

lmao yeah, sorry. My parents woke us up at EIGHT like that's a normal time to be awake????

desgostang

What?

ill send u the link later and also no i didnt feel weird yesterday you guys are nice

That's good! And hey I wanted to ask. You were kind of put on the spot with introducing yourself, would you rather we called you Dan or Winnie? I just wanna make sure we aren't making you uncomfortable at all lmao

no its all fine you can call me dan idc and actually its best if you do call me dan when youre in my work lmao

Are you totally sure?

why would i lie abt this. dont be an idiot it isnt a good look on you

haha okay. I’ll see you around noon.

--

“Christopher is a nice boy,” Phil’s mum is telling him as she helps him with their fancy new coffeemaker. There are so many buttons and Phil is so, so tired. “And Sophie is lovely, such a soft-spoken thing. Why haven’t we met them before, dear?”

“Dunno,” Phil says instead of the truth, which is that he’d had no idea how he was supposed to introduce them. “You have now, though.”

His mum laughs and reaches up to pat his cheek. “True enough. I’m so happy that you’ve got good people around you, Philip. I’ve gotten quite worried about you down there by yourself, you know.”

“I’m not by myself,” says Phil. “I live with, like, thirty people.”

“Bunch of strangers, I’ll bet,” she says, because she knows him. “Aside from those three.”

The thing is, she’s not wrong. Phil’s obviously exaggerating about the number of people under the roof of the creaky Brighton house, but the truth is that he can’t keep track half the time. A lot of the rooms get sublet out randomly, or a significant other will start spending so much time around the place that they might as well pay rent, and Phil really isn’t good with new people. He gets along fine with Holly and Dave, but they’ve been there as long as he has and the closest they’ve ever come to a heart-to-heart was comparing anxiety meds over burned pancakes.

Chris and Sophie were there when Phil moved in, and they’d taken one look at him and decided to just keep shoving into his space until he liked having them there, like they were on a mission to adopt PJ’s sad, ghost-obsessed friend from the internet.

“You might be right,” Phil says, feeling a smile tug at his lips for the first time all morning. He’s already had a coffee - and a half, when PJ declared that not even Kath could make coffee taste good and shoved the rest of his Phil’s way - but he still doesn’t feel fully awake. “I’m only really friends with Chris and Soph because of PJ.”

“PJ is a good friend to you, isn’t he?” his mum hums. That slightly pointed tone doesn’t get to Phil the way it usually does, because he knows that she’s just trying to understand him.

It doesn’t escape Phil’s notice that he’s looking into a mirror whenever he sees his parents watching him carefully, waiting for him to tell them something he hasn’t explicitly said, because he’s been doing the exact same thing to his housemates for nearly two years.

Maybe he’ll tell his parents when he’s got someone serious or even, like, semi-serious. Longer than two dates would be a record at this point. But right now he already feels like he’s been one misstep away from disappointing them, and he doesn’t want to take the gamble that his sexuality will be that misstep.

He’s not up for this conversation, though, isn’t sure he’ll ever be, so he just says, “Yeah, he is.”

--

Dan is late. They’re so late, actually, that Phil’s wheel of worst case scenarios has been spinning silently and getting faster and faster the more caffeine he chugs. They roll in with flushed cheeks and a jacket that looks too thin, apologies on their shiny lips that Phil doesn’t even hear for a couple of seconds because he’s too busy staring at them.

“No worries,” Sophie says, interrupting their rambling before they lose another half hour to it. “You want something? I’m getting a refill.”

“No, no, let me,” says Dan. They shrug off their jacket and hang it on one of the empty chairs. Phil and his friends have co-opted the largest table in the place so they can spread out with their laptops and notebooks, and it doesn’t escape Phil’s notice that Dan has decided to sit next to him when they’ve got a couple of options. “I get free drinks if Gabe’s in a good mood. Anyone else need a refill?”

“Me,” Chris says, not looking up from his screen. “Not Phil. He’s cut off.”

“Hey,” Phil protests weakly. His heart rate really has picked up since they sat down, so he knows Chris has a point.

Dan grins, their soft cheeks giving way to the dimples that Phil is very quickly growing obsessed with. He just wants to make Dan smile and laugh constantly, to hear them cackle and see all the lines in their round face deepen with happiness.

Right. Phil watched a horror movie with PJ instead of unpacking this fluttering start of a crush last night, and now he’s just got to deal with it for the rest of the day.

As if it’s a compulsion, Dan clears the empty mugs from their table before heading up to the counter. Phil focuses on the EMF readings so he doesn’t get caught up on Dan holding four mugs by the handles with total ease.

PJ has got headphones on and his eyes closed, so he might not even have noticed that Dan is there. He’s been going through Sophie’s footage and his own audio recordings to try and find some anomalies while Chris looks for the weird visual stuff - they’re a great team at that, and it makes Phil feel like he’s not doing enough. Sure, he could find those things on his own, but not as quickly as they can when it’s a team effort, and they’re on a bit of a tight schedule here. Well, his housemates are. They’ve got actual jobs to get back to once the weekend is over.

Allegedly, Sophie is doing research on sigils, but it looks to Phil like she’s just doodling. Not that he really blames her if she is. He’s barely been paying attention to the chart he’s making of spikes in electromagnetism because he’s been so busy watching the door for Dan.

And Dan looks… good. They’re wearing chunky boots and a shirt that falls to their thighs - a dress, maybe, but it looks like a regular black t-shirt that got extended at the hem - with tight white jeans. The only colour on them is the plaid shirt around their waist and the shiny red product on their lips to match it. Phil watches them lean against the counter and grin at the older barista, and he’s so distracted by looking at their profile that he startles when a foot connects with his under the table.

“Stop staring,” Sophie says, quiet and smiling. “He’s going to notice.”

Phil considers correcting her, but then he remembers that he probably doesn’t have to. Dan had said any pronouns, that they didn’t care how they were referred to, so it would definitely be weirder to act like he knows better than Sophie.

He knows he won’t be able to use masculine terms for Dan. Not because they aren’t true, because he’s pretty sure they’re no less accurate than neutral or feminine would be, but because thinking of Dan as a maculine person is only going to allow Phil’s brain to fall into the familiar traps of gender in ways he doesn’t want to allow.

Gay monkey brain doesn’t need any more leeway in finding Dan attractive, that’s for damn sure.

“So, what are we doing?” Dan asks, interrupting Phil’s thoughts, and, wow, four mugs is a lot more impressive when they’re full of hot liquid. Phil marvels at Dan’s ability not to trip and spill it all as they dole out the coffee and teas.

“I’m doing the boring part,” says Phil. He turns his screen so Dan can see the Excel spreadsheet and laughs at the face they make. “Yeah. It's not glamorous, but it's the easiest way to find patterns in the EMF readings. Honestly, most of my job is just staring at things and finding patterns in them. Like, uh, what's that guy? With the butterfly splotches?"

"Worcestershire," Chris suggests.

"Rorschach," Dan corrects him, lips twitching like they aren't sure if they're allowed to laugh in Chris' face or not.

“That’s exactly what I said,” says Chris.

“You know EMF meters don’t have anything to do with ghosts, right?” Dan asks, ignoring Chris completely and leaning a bit closer to Phil to get a better look at his laptop. “I mean, none of this has anything to do with ghosts, really, but you’re more or less just measuring electricity.”

Phil is aware of that. He wonders if Dan thinks he just stumbles into haunted houses with equipment he hasn’t researched and waits to be spooked. He’s too distracted by how close Dan is and how good they smell to work up to proper offense, though. “Yeah,” he says simply. “But don’t you think it’s weird that the place still has electricity to begin with? Who’s paying for that?”

“A Wilkins, I’d imagine.”

“But why? If they’ve forgotten about the property or abandoned it on purpose, surely they wouldn’t still pay the bills.”

“Maybe they don’t handle their own finances,” Dan suggests. “How rich were these assholes?”

“I honestly don’t know,” says Phil. He taps his fingers in an erratic pattern on the edge of his laptop, trying to spark something in his mind.

It’s almost disappointing when Dan pulls away to dig out their own sleek Macbook out of their messenger bag, but Phil is also glad for it. He can think a lot easier when the warm scent of spice and mint isn’t clogging his brain.

Dan slots into the work as easily as if a space was left for them. They’ve got dozens of tabs open already and they start to go through them, cross-referencing magic things with Sophie in quiet tones and digging deeper into the Wilkins family than Phil ever would have thought to. Every so often they tap Phil on the arm and drag him into whatever rabbithole they’ve fallen down, chatting animatedly.

Phil knows, objectively, that Dan is a fan of his and that Dan is weird about research. It’s another thing entirely to watch it happen in real time, to see Dan pull up local census PDFs from the eighties and explain why chaos magic is bullshit in the same breath.

An hour or so goes by like that, all of them working on their own things with minimal words exchanged by everybody but Dan, and then Chris shouts loud enough to make the barista jump. Nobody else is in the coffee shop right now, which is lucky, because Dan’s got a hand over their chest and Sophie has slopped tea down her front. PJ, with his headphones on, simply cracks an eye open.

“What the fuck was that about?” Phil asks, putting his own palm against his chest to feel his heart race. Dan raises their eyebrows and looks at Phil, seemingly distracted from the startling, wordless exclamation.

They don’t get a chance to say whatever they’re thinking, though, because Chris is turning his laptop to the rest of the table and grinning wide like the Cheshire Cat. “I found something.”

Everybody gathers round, PJ getting up to lean over the back of Phil’s chair and Sophie getting so far into Dan’s personal space that Phil is certain they’re uncomfortable with it, and then Chris presses play upside down. It’s part of Sophie’s footage, Phil standing in the dim foyer and looking frustrated. Even without sound, Phil can tell that this is when he was arguing with Sophie about going upstairs. He squints, but he can’t see whatever it is that’s got Chris being so loud.

“What am I looking at?” PJ asks when the short clip ends, and Dan hums an agreement. Chris makes a frustrated noise like they’re being obtuse on purpose and rewinds to the beginning.

"There," Chris says, excited like he hasn't been since they got to Manchester. He taps his finger against the laptop screen. "D'you see it? D'you see the shadow?"

Now that Chris has pointed it out, Phil does see something. He moves his own laptop and notebook out of the way to pull Chris’ closer with a frown. Chris lets him do that, bouncing in his seat a little bit.

“That’s straight up a person,” Phil says slowly, tracing the outline of the shadow with the mouse. It’s behind him, in the entry to the kitchen, and it looks tall. Quite a bit taller than Phil, anyway, if he’s remembering that doorframe correctly. He decides to measure it next time they go so he isn’t going off memory. “I knew we weren’t alone in there. Like. I’m not crazy, that’s a human being.”

“That’s what I thought,” says Chris. “But press play.”

So Phil presses play. He watches the shadow stay perfectly still in the kitchen doorway until, suddenly, it’s not there anymore. He blinks, rewinds, and watches it disappear again.

Phil’s caffeinated brain is firing on all cylinders now. He grins and shoves his sleeves up to his elbows before he starts fiddling with the clip. The lighting gets played with until the shadow is more obvious and then he slows it down to 0.25 times speed to see if the shadow really just vanishes.

He presses play again. This time, with a very slow-motion Phil talking in the foreground, he sees the shadow move. It runs sideways, further into the house.

“What the fuck?” Dan breathes.

“We are not going back there without some serious protection,” PJ says, even firmer on the topic now.

“What, like sigils?” Dan asks, their pretty eyes wide even as they scoff. “You’d be better off with a fucking, like, baseball bat, mate. That doesn’t look like something that wants to be your friend.”

“I’ve got a crowbar in PJ’s trunk,” Phil says, absent-minded as he plays with the clip some more.

“Excuse me? When did you put that in my car?”

“Couple months ago.”

“Huh. How have I not noticed?”

“You’re not the most observant person I’ve ever met,” says Phil. He looks up at Chris, who’s got the same exhilarated look that Phil is sure he’s mirroring. They don’t get evidence like this very often, something so clearly there that it’s even got a skeptic’s mind racing. Phil exports the edited clip and then the original, putting them both into the Cloud and emailing them to himself. “Was this the only time you saw it?”

Chris nods, accepting his laptop back when Phil is done with it. “I’ll look through everything again, now that I know what I’m looking for and all, but I think that’s it.”

“Okay, cool.” Phil looks around at his friends and Dan, beaming. “Something weird is happening. I love it when something weird is happening.”

“I hate it when something weird is happening,” PJ says, which is a blatant lie.

“Well, we can’t go snooping around until it’s darker out, anyhow,” Sophie reminds them.

“Wait, we’re snooping?” Dan asks, their voice going up an entire octave in disbelief. “Like… you just saw that someone is there and probably not happy about people sneaking around, right? Don’t you have enough for a video already?”

“We’re spending the night,” says Phil. “It’s what we do.”

“It’s what you do,” PJ corrects him.

“Okay, yeah, you guys don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“No, I’m coming,” says PJ.

As if she can’t hear them bickering, Sophie turns to Dan with a sweet smile, her eyes twinkling with the same excitement in Chris’. They love this, just like Phil does. “What about you, Dan?” she asks. “Are you going to have a ghost sleepover with us?”

“There’s no such thing as ghosts,” Dan says, their eyes still glued to the back of Chris’ laptop like they can see the shadow through it.

“Guess you don’t have anything to be afraid of, then,” says Chris.

“Uh, axe murderers, maybe?”

“We know what we’re doing, Dan,” Phil reassures them. He reaches a hand out to pat at their arm, feeling a bit awkward about it. “But you don’t have to come with us if you’re scared.”

That makes Dan’s gaze shift. Suddenly, those brown eyes are staring right into Phil’s soul, defiant and beautiful and impossible to look away from.

“Who said I was fucking scared?”

[freckled-words]

Repost: Lovely Mess

*Comes up covered in dust and cobwebs* FOUND IT!

This one was nearly right at the bottom of my files. Good thing I somewhat remembered the title ah ha!

I can’t remember if this one had been edited or not. This fic features a whole whack of the Ipliers and the kind of chaos I would expect to happen around them

This was going to be his most brilliant idea yet! Why hadn't he thought of this before?!

Dr. Iplier giggled to himself excitedly as he put in the last few drops of chemicals. The concoction swirled with various shades of purple and pink as the chemicals began to settle. For an added experiment Dr. Iplier placed the tiny vial over a bunsen burner, just for a couple seconds. To his surprise the colours dissipated and the contents turned clear. To anyone unknowing this was just a vial of water. 

If this worked he'd be the genius that invented the first safe chemical to act as a pleasure stimulant for women. It'd be just a grade below ecstasy. He could hear his bank account sucking in all the dough from royalties already. 

Vial in hand he ran through the large house to find anyone that might find this interesting. 

Barging into the kitchen he bumped into Weather Jim. Jim was holding an ice cube tray that he'd just filled with water and was about to put into the freezer. At the moment they collided some of Dr. Iplier’s chemicals splashed out and into all the ice cubes. 

Dr. Iplier took no notice as the vial was still firmly held in his hand. “Sorry Jim! Hey do you know where Dark is?”

Jim glanced down at his nice, new, storm grey shirt. Seeing no splashes on him he relaxed, “He’s in the study talking to Wilford and Host.”

“Perfect! Thanks Jim!”

Jim, not really sure what had the doctor all eager, was curious. Maybe it was newsworthy? He hurriedly put the ice cube tray in the freezer and went to follow after. 

~~~~~~~~

Darkiplier shot down the idea immediately. 

“You neither have a doctorate or any education in chemical engineering. At best it’ll put people into a coma, at worse they'll die and I’ll be dealing with your court cases.”

Dr. Iplier was only half listening. As he'd held up the vial to explain he noticed that there was less in it than he remembered. 

The silence of the room drew his attention back, “So that's a no on getting your sponsorship to do test trials?”

“Get out and dispose of that before you spill it on someone.” Dark was done with the conversation.  

Wilford raised a pointer finger and opened his mouth. Dark shot him a glare, a touch of blue and red around his eyes. Wilford cleared his throat and shrugged at Dr. Iplier. 

Through all this Host had a slight frown, his head turned in the direction of the glass of water on Dark’s desk. No one took notice of Host. If he wasn't narrating, he wasn't there. 

~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, you came home from your weekend away. You were the cleaner for the Iplier home (after signing a mountain of non-disclosure contracts) and part of the arrangement was free rent with them. Once a month you took a weekend off and went to visit your family. 

“I’m back! Did anyone break anything?” You juggled a couple bags of groceries as you kicked the door closed behind you.

The silence that filled the house made you pause. You put down the bags and wandered in further, “Hey! Anyone home?!”

You walked into the kitchen and found Bim sitting at the table. He had a glass of water in his hand, his eyes were closed and his head bobbed as though he were sleeping. “Bim?”

His eyes fluttered opened. “Huh? Y/N?”

“You get any sleep last night? You look exhausted.” You moved closer and put a hand to his forehead. You couldn't help but worry about the egos. Over time you'd gotten to be good friends with most of them, you and Dark were on decent terms. 

Bim’s hands shot up. He took hold of the hand on your forehead and brought it to his cheek to start nuzzling, “You look beautiful today.”

Your brain stuttered. Did the shyest and most bashful man in the house just openly compliment you? “Okay now I know you're not well.” You tugged your hand free, Bim pouted up at you. 

“No! I'm fine, I mean it. You're absolutely radiant. I’ve always thought so.” He got to his feet, his hands reaching out to take hold of you in an embrace. 

You backed away, “No, you're not fine, Bim. I’m going to get Dr. Iplier, just wait here.” You took another step back and bumped into someone. 

Spinning around you hurried to move to the side as Dark peered down at you with a rather intense glare, “Sorry Dark! I wasn't paying attention.”

Dark’s brows snapped together, his glare swivelled off you to turn on Bim, “Trying to pull their attention away from me, are you Trimmer?”

You were in disbelief as Bim kept his posture and announced in full confidence, “Their attention was mine first, Darkiplier. You're just too slow.”

The space around Dark became denser with his aura. An image of himself split off to the side to yell angrily. 

You put your hand on Dark’s chest, “Whoa, Dark, easy. Something’s wrong with Bim, I think he's sick. Please don’t-”

The rest of your plea for Bim to be left alone was cut off as Dark grabbed you by the arm and pulled you flush against him. One hand went to the back of your head and the other arm around your waist. You were trapped in an intimate hold with your face pressed into Dark’s chest.

Panic and confusion swamped you. What was going on?! Dark treated you with professional courtesy. He barely ever touched you unless necessary. “Your focus needs to be on me. Let go of your concern for him, or I’ll make you let it go.”

His threat was murmured in your ear, his eyes never leaving Bim as he dared the other man to try and come closer to you. 

He began to back step and take you along with him out of the kitchen. You, pressed against his chest, trying to get him to let you go, “Dark, whatever is wrong with Bim, you’ve got it too. Let go!”

“You heard them DarkaSparkle. Let. Go.” 

You froze the same moment Dark did. Tilting your head you saw Wilford stood just to Dark’s side, the barrel of his gun pressed to Dark’s temple. 

You shivered as the air around you grew colder and heavier. More images of Dark splintered off. Red and blue edged his irises, “They're mine. Or do we need to establish the pecking order so you get it?”

“Oh, no you don't! They were happy with me first! You two always take from us little guys. No more!” Bim marched out of the kitchen, his chest puffed out he stared Dark and Wilford down defiantly. 

What on earth was going on?! This wasn't a dream, you could hear Dark’s heart beating and feel the pressure of his arm against your body. This definitely wasn't a joke. Dark didn't do jokes. 

Wilford grinned showing all his teeth. Pink was beginning to lace through the brown in his eyes, “Tsk, tsk, boys, wrong answer.” His finger curled over the trigger. He was going to do it, he was going to shoot Dark point blank!

“The room froze. No one could move an inch. No one but Author.” 

Your body locked into place. Tried as you might, to wiggle in any way, it refused to budge. 

“The idiots had been so caught up in their threeway they didn't notice Author come into the room. He'd watched them have their little tug of war, blowing out hot air and hassling Author’s poor beloved. Now Author put a stop to things.” You heard his footsteps just beneath the cadence of his voice.

As nervous as Wilford and Dark made you, Author, by far, made you worry the most. Host normally kept this darker side under control. The only times it came out was when Host became overly tired or stressed. Judging by the way Author was speaking, he was afflicted with the same thing as the other three. 

“With little effort Author removed Darkiplier’s hold on Y/N. Free of the edge lord’s embrace Y/N tumbled back into Author’s waiting arms.” 

Your body did just that. Your muscles unlocked and you staggered back. Author’s arms encircled you protectively. You felt his face pressed into the back of your hair, nuzzling and inhaling your scent. Able to see you saw Bim, Dark and Wilford were glaring in Author’s direction.

“Y/N safely in his arms, Author lead them away. They'd get a good long head start before the other three were able to move again.” Over your head Author grinned at the other men. His eyes were covered by the bandages but he could still sense the animosity coming from them. 

“Y/N DON’T BREATHE!”

The yell of warning came just before the sound of something clattering across the floor. A small metal cylinder rolled to a stop by your feet. A smoke began to spray out and fill the room. You made sure to hold your breath as first Author, then the other three began to cough. 

One by one they dropped to the floor. 

Dr. Iplier scurried into the living room and threw open the windows and plugged in a massive fan. Once it was roaring and blowing the smoke out he took hold of your hand and lead you upstairs. Clear of the smoke he let himself breathe again, “Glad I got there in time. Oh boy that was close huh?” 

“What the hell is going on?!” You gestured back towards the four unconscious men. 

Dr. Iplier put on, or tried to put on, a serious face, “Well let's just say someone was experimenting with something. Which somehow got ingested by those guys and everyone else. And it made them kind of…..vicious with love?”

Your eyebrows rose, “You gave them a rage inducing love potion?!”

“No I didn't…..I only made it, and didn't know it had these side effects. They're the ones that swallowed it.”

“Whatever! Can you undo the raging love chemicals?”

“Already did! After Yandere nearly killed the Jims this morning I figured out what was going on. That gas they just inhaled had the antidote. They'll be their old selves once they wake up.”

You sighed in relief to hear this, but you kept your expression stern as you pointed, “You are never to experiment with chemicals again. Am I clear?”

Dr. Iplier gave you a grumpy pout. You didn't budge. He grumbled, “Fiiiiiine.”

“Good. Now, when will those guys wake up?”

“DR. IPLIER I’D LIKE A WORD WITH YOU!” Wilford’s bellow made the entire house shake. 

Dr. Iplier had took off the second he heard the first syllable of his name. 

[aeon-borealis]

Captivated: Chapter 1

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Note: I’ll be posting future chapters on fanfiction.net and hopefully A03. For now, I couldn’t wait and here’s chapter 1. Enjoy!

1: Welcome to Cress

:Alejandro:

Dark clouds rolled across the night sky and the howling wind dragged at the window shutters. Every time one of the shutters hit the side of the house, I wondered if I could sync up my heartbeat with the noise. Tap. Two seconds passed. TAP. Then my heart thumped. It was a crawling, sluggish beat across a big hollow drum. Such a somber sound.

Jose would describe my internal monologue as needlessly dramatic, Mama would ‘encourage’ me to find a more constructive use for my time, and Papa would tell me to “man up” like he always does. It’s odd to think about. Almost everything I do, say, or muse about is followed by my rough assumption of what Jose, Mama, and Papa would think about the same thing or what comment they might make. The older I get, the more I wonder if I am as much my own person as I want to believe.

I rolled over on the flimsy mattress and looked at the bed across the room from mine. There’s Jose’s sleeping form, barely covered by a thin blue quilt. He snored with the intensity and volume of a chorus of chain saws. Several loose strands of hair are plastered to his forehead and pillow with sweat. He used to be so particular about what length his hair was and strictly kept it very short.

And he has so much stubble now. Band-aids with illustrations of dinosaurs and Disney characters haphazardly covered parts of his chin where he nicked himself with his razor. He used to have such a clean-shaven face. At one point he had bragged about wanting to try shaving the “old-fashioned way” with a real blade.

The only logical conclusion I have been able to reach is that aliens abducted Jose and replaced him with this bum. They can keep him.

***

Carlos was married six months ago now and he didn’t tell anybody. I’ll never forgive him for keeping such a major milestone in his life a secret from me for so long.

It’s surreal sitting across the long mahogany table from Athena, Carlos’ wife. She has short curly red hair, constellations of freckles across her pasty white skin, and a little pixie nose. Other than her physical appearance, the best way I can describe her is that she’s practically a fairy tale character brought to life: She likes to talk with her hands and use grand, whimsical hand gestures. Plus, she has a high-pitched voice and she’s followed by this strong, ever-present apple cinnamon smell.

Tonight she made some kind of cheese-smothered box meal lasagna. Carlos was so proud, going on and on about how little experience she had cooking, how he cooked most of their meals, and how she was slowly but surely learning how to cook real food. Lovesick Carlos was being generous when he lavished praises generally reserved for a fine crème brulee on a basic pasta. Athena only made things more embarrassing when she openly admitted that her previous diet was a mix of Hot Pockets and other microwavable crap before Carlos “nudged” her towards learning to use an actual stove.

Somehow, I managed to stomach it. I made myself shovel mouthful after mouthful of rubbery cheese into my maw because I love my older brother more than I hate cheap food. I’m expecting to spend most of tomorrow hunched over the porcelain throne as a result, though.

I can learn to make excuses to escape Athena’s cooking. I can learn to deal with one eccentric, but well-meaning person because she genuinely makes Carlos happy. But then he stumbled into the dining room.

Athena asked Jose how work went today. Jose mumbled something incoherent under his breath, spat a chewed-up wad of tobacco gum into a napkin, then unceremoniously plopped down into a chair across from me and planted a sneakered foot on the table top. He’s hunkered down in his thin-fabric windbreaker and trying to hide the bags under his eyes with the hood part of his maroon hoodie. With a tight-lipped frown, Athena placed a helping of her rubber lasagna in front of him.

Jose grabbed it by the tips of his fork prongs and wolfed down the entire chunk of food within mere minutes. I looked down at my own generous helping, idly poking at the amorphous mass with my own fork. Then I looked back at Jose and can’t help the way my eye twitches or the intense urge to shoot my dear brother the iciest glare I can muster.

Suddenly, Carlos grabbed me by the arm and ghosted me into the nearby hallway. He knitted his thick eyebrows together as his face morphed into that stern expression that used to be permanently plastered to Mama’s face.

“Please. Try to be civil, Alejandro,” Carlos said with a deep sigh.

“I am. He’s the one stumbling in like an uncultured barbarian...”

“I know.” Carlos’ gaze trailed off for a second. Then he turned back towards me, pinning me with his dark eyes and making me hold his gaze. “Look. I’m not happy about our current situation but the way I see it, he’s my brother and he deserves time, space, and understanding while he sorts himself out. He’s acting like a rebellious teenager, yeah, but Athena and I decided we should pick our battles with him.”

“So, he’s a charity case like Mama and I?” I couldn’t keep the biting edge out of my tone.

Carlos glared at me. “You’re not a charity case. Never use that phrase around me again, got it?”

“Seriously, Carlos. What could possibly be going wrong in the world of the high and mighty Jose Burromuertos?”

“He lost his entire fortune and had to declare bankruptcy a few months ago,” Carlos replied with a heavy sigh.

“So he squandered all his money. What an idiot. Everything played out exactly like Papa said it would...”

Carlos’ eyes narrowed dangerously and his nostrils flared. There was a bull seeing red behind those eyes and he was visibly shaking as he tried to tamp down and contain his anger.

“Ignacio officially disowned him about a week ago.”

My blood suddenly ran cold and I could swear my pupils were the size of bowling balls.

I felt like the world had broken and shattered beneath my booted feet. Papa was stern and he could be cruel. But, he would never. He couldn’t have. Even after Carlos ran away from home years ago, Papa never gave up on him. He even kept Carlos’ name on his official will. There was a trust fund Carlos could pull from at any time he wanted. And this was despite Carlos resisting Papa’s will at every turn and arguing furiously with him every chance he could.

Jose was the model son. He’d always been the golden standard Papa and Mama both pointed at and harshly compared me to.

Carlos found his voice again. “Jose is very aware of exactly how bad his situation is. We’ve had some very long, hard talks about this already. I’m actually trying to help him bounce back from this. Despite his appearance and behavior, he’s trying to bounce back from this, too. He needs all the support he can get right now.”

There was silence for a long beat. I couldn’t think of anything particularly meaningful to say. This was enough to blunt my sharp-as-a-tack brain.

Furrowing his brows, Carlos placed a hand on my shoulder and lightly squeezed. “Alejandro, be nice to Jose. If for no other reason, do it as a favor to me. We’re all in the same rickety boat right now and we’ll have much smoother sailing if you and Jose can get along for more than five minutes.”

I tried to swallow the large lump in my throat.

With that, Carlos lightly clapped my back, then gestured back towards the dining room.

As I walked back in, I noticed Mama had decided to join everyone. She seated herself next to Jose of course. Since I had been shocked by him, I can only imagine what was running through her mind. Mama nervously adjusted and re-adjusted her pea-green shawl while tugging at the loose ringlets in her dyed pale blond hair. The tips of her hair were starting to turn light brown again. Considering our current situation, I wouldn’t be surprised if I see Mama with a head of graying hair within the next several months.

“Is your room okay?” Carlos appeared beside her chair, lightly touching the curved back.

“Yes, it’s fine,” she said with a dismissive wave. She purposefully turned her face away from him, trying to hide the way she was curling her bottom lip.

The attempt was in vain. Carlos himself was biting his lip and, quite possibly, a snarky remark. Before the awkwardness escalated any further, Athena placed a plate in front of Mama with a meek smile and lightly pulled Carlos away to where they were seated.

Mama critically eyed the lasagna for a long moment, then pushed the plate away and hurriedly stood back up. “I’m not hungry. Thank you, though.”

She scurried out of the room as quickly as she could. Barely a minute after she left, Jose slid her plate towards him and devoured the lasagna with as much wolfish gusto as he had previously. I looked down at my plate for a moment, considered pulling a similar move with my food, and then sneaked a glance at Carlos and Athena. The two of them were speaking quietly and it seemed like Athena was on the verge of tears.

Any mere mortal would be driven to the brink of insanity living with one Burromuerto, let alone three. With a deep sigh, I forced another forkful of the food into my mouth.

Perhaps Athena’s cooking will finally help me overcome having such a sensitive stomach.

***

As much as I hated the prospect, Carlos was very firm about me getting a job. Athena is pregnant. Mama and I are tight on funds and allowed to live in Carlos’ respectable-sized townhouse rent-free. So it’s only fair that we pulled our weight somehow.

To my chagrin, being a delivery driver at this hole-in-the-wall pizza restaurant Kelsey’s is the only job I’ve been able to find within the past month. I can and will find better but for now, this will do.

About two hours into my shift, I’m already sick of the cheeky grinning rooster on the wall clock. A portly man stared at the menu with vacant eyes and drool collecting on his lower lip. The restaurant was pretty much deserted except for a stressed-out single mom and her babbling toddler. All I could think about is what kind of terror my future niece or nephew will be when I look at that little girl. She was peeling the wrappers off of crayons and ripping them into confetti strips. Then she placed those same crayons between her tiny knuckles and salivated all over each one. I’m going to have to clean up after that little monster. Ugh.

The portly gentleman finally placed his order: two different pizzas with a series of ridiculously complex toppings. As if taking fifteen minutes to confirm his order wasn’t frustrating enough, he leaned over the counter and gawked at everyone on staff with this bizarre and intense I’ll-eat-you-alive-I’m-that-hungry expression. What made matters worse was how often he kept licking his lips. Dios, I can’t accurately describe the immense relief I felt when he finally took his pizzas and left.

“That’s Don. He’s a regular,” someone said conversationally.

One of my co-workers sidled up next to me. My day just became ironically brighter. She’s a cute Goth girl with shoulder-length multi-colored teal and blue hair.

“He’s...something.” I tried to keep my eye from twitching too much.

“He’s creepy, but not in a fun Tim Burton kind of way.” She laughed as she wiped her hands off on the front of our restaurant’s obnoxious orange uniform apron.

“We’ve been taking bets on if he’s a stoner or mental ward escapee.” Another co-worker joined in on our conversation. He had a bright green Mohawk and several eyebrow piercings. I was mildly surprised he’s able to wear them while on shift.

He leaned on the front counter and grinned obnoxiously. “My theory is Crazy Katie is his wife. She orders the exact same crap he does. Right down to the extra extra sausage and pineapple chunks.”

“You have quite the background story for a complete stranger...” I chuckled softly.

“Gotta do something to entertain ourselves around here,” Mohawk replied. “What else we gonna do? Clean?”

“Speaking of...” The Goth girl pulled a questionable-looking yellow rag out of her apron pocket.

“You get to clean the toilets!” Goth girl and Mohawk crowed at me with the same obnoxious gusto as a too-eager, slightly sadistic game show host.

“Wait...I’m the delivery driver. Shouldn’t we-”

Mohawk snagged the rag and shoved it in my face. “Sunday afternoons are dead, dude. Take all the time you need.”

In a perfect world, I would find a way to turn this around and convince Mohawk to clean the bathrooms while I chatted up the Goth girl. Unfortunately, my efforts would be useless: Mohawk and Goth girl were the only two other employees, Mohawk was wearing an Assistant Manager tag, and the Goth girl had sneakily and flirtatiously shoved her hand in Mohawk’s back pocket.

I took a deep breath. “Is there...better equipment I can use?”

Mohawk cackled like a discount Saturday morning cartoon villain. “You got whatcha got in the broom closet.”

“Alright.” I winced as I took the proffered rag and shuffled off to find the broom closet. My nostrils shriveled up as soon as I opened the door and a myriad of horrible, questionable scents drifted out. My stomach was cartwheeling as I dragged the scuffed-up mop bucket, dingy mop, and other assorted materials towards the tiny unisex bathroom.

Mohawk whistled and I briefly turned to shoot a withering look at him. He winked and saluted in the most obnoxious way he could. Ice radiated up my spine as I remembered when Jose would make similar condescending and mean-spirited gestures at me.

“Pendejo.” I tried to whisper the word as low as I could under my breath. It’d be difficult. Very difficult. But I have to keep my irrational anger in check. This guy is definitely a jerk, but he’s not anywhere close to the same level as Jose. He gives off schoolyard bully vibes not I’ll-ruin-your-life jackass vibes. I’ve tamed schoolyard bullies before. I can handle him.

“What’d you just say?” Mohawk waltzed up to me with his fists on his hips.

“Nothing. Nothing...”

“I know you called me something.”

“Hijueputa,”I spat at him with a big, churlish smirk.

“Son of a bitch?” He was starting to grin now. “Is that the best you’ve got?”

“I’ll refer to you as every nasty slur I know if you wish.”

“Come on, dude.” He lightly clapped my shoulder. “Next time, it’s my turn to clean the shitter. I’m not a complete ass.”

“I don’t know. You’re the spitting image of a burro to me.”

At that, he started laughing and lightly punched my arm.

“Look. I’ll sweeten the deal by throwing in a free pizza.”

I grimaced. No thanks. I’ll take another rubbery lasagna from Athena before I’d ever consider eating the food here.

Mohawk laughed again. “I hate the pizza here too. I only eat as much as I do cause it’s free.”

I sighed heavily and made my way towards the bathroom. Smear-stained mirrors and pubic-hair covered toilet seats were quickly becoming more appealing than one more minute with the assistant manager’s awkward small talk.

***

The first day at my new school finally came. I was exhausted. Utterly exhausted. The entire weekend was a mix of avoiding Jose like the plague, stomaching as much of Athena’s terrible cooking as I could, and spending more time in bathrooms than I ever have in my life. The one highlight was that my supervisor at Kelsey’s was true to his word. After I swabbed the deck that afternoon, he took cleaning duty after a drunk stumbled in and...I really don’t want to entertain that mental image right now.

Just as I was reliving that nightmare, I saw my coworkers hanging out in front of the massive blond brick school building. Duncan was shamelessly smoking a cigarette and had his free arm slung around Gwen’s shoulders. He made some kind of lewd, crass comment and she was laughing to the point of tears. Gwen was definitely head over heels for this loser for whatever reason. I suppose he has some kind of roguish charm or charisma to him. He’s certainly the classic definition of a bad boy type.

Duncan looked up and caught me looking over at them. Then he waved lazily and gave me a cheeky monkey’s grin before immediately turning back to Gwen.

I rolled my eyes and headed inside. Despite how I felt, I was hoping that I could revitalize my weary spirit in an environment I know how to sow and develop to my liking. Cress is a smaller city in the pocket of the larger, more glamorous New York City. It’s small enough to cultivate starry-eyed longing for something bigger and greater than small town life, but big enough to have a fairly diverse student population. There are the stereotypical cliques and hierarchy, but then there are the eccentric outliers. I already passed by one student outrageously confident enough to walk the school halls wearing a cape and Star Wars light saber. He was even accompanied by a fairly attractive redhead rocking an old-school librarian look.

While I’m disappointed that the lovely Gwen was already taken, there are already plenty of other prospects hanging out in the front lobby alone. Excuse the inappropriate and archaic description, but I felt like a ravenous squid at a high-quality sushi bar.

There was a shapely brunette girl wearing a knee-length tan skirt and matching platform boots chatting with a blond girl that had Sunglasses on her head and an old-school Hollywood aura about her. Another cute redhead with pigtails and big brown eyes was animatedly talking to a moony-eyed blond in a sweater and lavender tights. Before I could even decide what to do next, I was approached by a green-eyed blond with her hair tied back in a long ponytail.

“Hey!” She seemed a bit sheepish as she extended her hand. “I’m Bridgette. Awkward question. Are you the new exchange student?”

I put on my most charming smile and gently kissed her knuckles. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m Alejandro.”

“A-ah….” She blushed furiously as she took her hand away.

“Excuse me for being so forward, but you’re very beautiful. I’m especially drawn to your eyes. They’re the same shade and color as jade.”

“I-I have a boyfriend,” Bridgette squeaked. “I’m flattered, but...I have a boyfriend.”

“He’s quite lucky to have you.” I smiled again and winked at her.

Bridgette only managed a low, incomprehensible noise this time.

Coincidentally, a lean and slightly muscled blond in a pink button-up shirt walked over to us at just the right moment. He had one arm draped around the true foreign exchange student and was fastening a gaudy button to the younger boy’s shirt. It had a poorly illustrated squirrel on the front.

“And this is my lovely girlfriend-” The blond fellow stopped when he saw her beet-red face.

As if directed by his sixth sense, he slowly turned his head towards me. I waved and gave a faux innocent smile as the gears slowly turned in his mind. Once everything clicked, one of his eyes started twitching slightly.

“Are you okay, Geoff?” The exchange student lightly tugged at his light pink button-up shirt.

“Just peachy,” Geoff replied through gritted teeth. Before the exchange student could prompt him again, he pulled away and adjusted the collar of his shirt as he cleared his throat.

“Geoff...hey...” Bridgette looked like she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

“Hey, are you another exchange student?” Geoff asked me, trying with some difficulty to keep his composure in tact.

“No. I am a new student, though.” I shot my most oily smile at him. “Your girlfriend definitely gave me quite a warm welcome.”

Bridgette’s blush intensified, Geoff became even more visibly furious, and the exchange student just looked baffled.

“...can you help me find my locker?” The exchange student piped up.

“Of course!” With that, Geoff made a very blatant display of slipping his arm around Bridgette’s waist and glaring daggers at me. “Bridgette and I are happy to help however we can!”

“Hey, do you want to come, too?” The exchange student looked over at me expectantly. “Maybe we can help each other out.”

It would be so fun to wind up Geoff a bit more and sneak in a few more comments to fluster Bridgette. Honestly, though, it’d be far more refreshing to flirt with someone more receptive and free right now. I’m itching for some witty banter or ego-boosting comments after the weekend I had.

“No, I’ll be fine. Thank you, though.”

Just for good measure, I winked again and blew a kiss to Bridgette when she sneaked one last look at me.

While I wanted to try and flirt with one of the other girls in the lobby, I wouldn’t be surprised if a few of them had witnessed that exchange and picked up on the tension. I probably already shot myself in the foot by being extra obnoxious. So I decided to venture a bit further into the school and see what else I could find in the forty minutes I had left to kill before classes started.

***

The library at Cress High was surprisingly large for a public school. There was an elegant domed ceiling, a computer lab with some of the highest-end computers and tablets on the market right now, and rows upon rows of books at least seven feet high. A short page wandered the aisles and there were step ladders in the middle of each aisle prompting students to ask the page for help in obtaining a book from one of the taller shelves.

A few students were milling around the aisles or clumped around tables staring intently at smart phones. Considering the location and atmosphere, I was hoping to stumble across a shy violet with her nose stuck in a weighty tome somewhere around here. Instead, I found a stressed-out brunette in the middle of one of the aisles. She was surrounded by reams of “Vote Courtney” stickers, fliers, and buttons. All of the promotional materials were professionally done up with similar colors and theme to President Barack Obama’s well-known Hope poster.

“Would you like some help?” I bent down and folded my arms on my knees.

“Yes, please!” Courtney bellowed, her tone slightly strained. “At least there’s some helpful people around here...”

I started scooping up some of the various materials and arranging them in appropriate piles.

“So, I presume you are running for class president?”

“Yes!” She beamed and her eyes lit up like a string of fairy lights. “I’m hoping this will finally be my year! I’ve been class treasurer for the past two years. It’d be nice if I got to be president for senior year, you know? It’d look so good on a college application!”

“I certainly hope you win.”

Let’s see if I can steer the conversation from fluffy yes-man compliments towards something else.

“Thank you!” She was grinning ear to ear now. “I have so many new policies I want to put in place, too. Unlike the current president, the witch that shall not be named, I actually listen to people...”

“Mm-hmmm.”

“That b-I mean, witch, only wants the position because she can abuse her power to call in favors for friends. She’s such a bitch that that’s the only reason she even has friends. And, I mean, that’s the only reason I can conceivably see Lindsay, dumber than a sack of rocks Lindsay, of all people being captain of the Chess club. Or Dakota being able to start her weird retro fashion club...”

Courtney went on like this for some time, complaining about other students I didn’t and may never know. The one element that caught my attention was her strange fixation on and utter hatred towards the current class president. The more mud-flinging she did, the more fascinated I was by who this witch was. I definitely needed to keep tabs on her if only to secure my own place in Cress High’s hierarchy.

Courtney took a deep breath as she started, hopefully, coming down from her long-winded rant. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Courtney actually stopped to look at me. I turned towards her and held her gaze, trying to put on my most charming, heart-melting smile. Apparently, it was effective because she dropped all of the precious materials she’d been clinging to and absentmindedly reached up to touch her cheek.

“You’re...you’re gorgeous...” She muttered.

“And you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve seen at this school,” I replied, reaching out and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “On top of that, you’re smart, ambitious, and you obviously care very deeply about the welfare of your fellow students.”

Courtney sighed happily as she bit her lip. “Yeah. That’s all true.”

“You’d do a fantastic job running this school,” I said in a dramatic stage whisper.

“Keep telling me how great I am.” Her eyes were shimmering.

“You’re a very capable, powerful woman. Seize the day!”

“Yes!” She clenched her fists. “I’ll beat Heather this year. I can do it!”

Suddenly, the bell rang and Courtney’s pupils shrank when she realized that she still had a mess to clean up. I sighed and rolled my eyes when she wasn’t looking then started shoveling miscellaneous materials into her backpack. She was gritting her teeth and stuffing everything back in with reckless abandon.

“I can’t be late...I can’t be...” The poor girl uttered the words like a mantra.

She was so caught up in her own thoughts, she snagged the last few things from my hand and took off like a rocket. So I was left sitting there on the carpeted floor with my mouth slightly agape. From what I can tell, I just served as faceless emotional support and it’d be very difficult to follow up with her now. No number. No date. Not even a loose thread for picking things up again later. Was I losing my game?

***

I refused to let Courtney deter me and had a few different phone numbers by lunchtime. Grinning, I scanned the lunchroom, hoping to find the cute dark-eyed, long lashes brunette I’d been chatting up all throughout English.

To my surprise, someone grabbed my arm and whirled me around to face her. It was Courtney, lids lowered flirtatiously and light pink lip gloss applied to her lips. The color was garish but I was too excited by the underlying implications to care. Batting her eyelashes, Courtney walked two fingers up my chest and suggested going somewhere more private.

To my further surprise, she dragged me to a little mom and pop sandwich shop and even offered to buy me a sub. That wheat and turkey sandwich was the best food I’ve had in about a week now. Dios, I had to restrain myself from tearing it apart like a ravenous, wild wolf. Courtney spent the entire time talking about herself and her grand goals, but I was more than happy to listen since she’d been generous enough to buy me something. There were even a few interesting and helpful nuggets sprinkled in about other students that I mentally filed away for later.

Perhaps, Courtney is girlfriend material. It’s been awhile since I last seriously committed to someone. I still think about Gabriel ever so often and every time, I feel kind of sad. We honestly had a lot in common and gelled very well, but the physical attraction didn’t stick. He felt more like my platonic best friend than my boyfriend. I don’t have the most honest track record in regards to my love life but I will be merciful. There was no way I was going to string the poor fellow along.

Between thoughts of Gabriel and staring longingly at Courtney’s lips, I decided to just wait and see how things progressed. Aggressive and assertive girls definitely hook me in faster than anyone else. I just need to make sure I don’t fall too hard too fast. It’s better that I be the one with a level head no matter how much of a romantic I am.

Courtney folded up her napkin, tossed it in the nearest bin, and grabbed the collar of my shirt.

“Let’s head back to my car.” It was a demand not a request.

Minutes later, Courtney had pulled off under some trees at a nondescript park. She immediately snapped off her seatbelt and rolled on top of me, forced the seat back just under the windows, and wrapped her arms around my neck. She dived right in, her kisses as strong and powerful as she tried to present herself.

About five minutes in, Courtney pulled away and gave me a very stern look.

“Is something wrong?” My heart was already sinking to the pit of my stomach.

“We’re going faster than I normally do...” She sighed, her face falling.

“We can slow things down,” I assured her, even though my pounding heart and hormones screamed otherwise. “I honestly prefer to do some pretty extensive wining and dining before going too far. How about we head back to school for now and plan another date for later this week? I’d be more than happy to treat you next time.”

Courtney sighed, then crawled off of me and back into the drivers’ seat. She folded her arms on the steering wheel and dipped her head forward, covering her face with a curtain of brown hair. The hopeless part of me noticed how the dappling sunlight painted yellow highlights across various strands and sections of her hair. It was an impromptu, natural halo.

“Alejandro...I’m so sorry.”

“What for?” I was trying to decide whether or not it’d be a good idea to put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“I just got out of a bad break-up.” She tilted her head and looked over at me through half-lidded eyes. “My ex cheated on me with my best friend and...I just. I’ve been trying so hard to keep it in. So hard.”

“Oh, wow...I’m very sorry to hear that.”

“When I saw you this morning, I had to have you. I was scared if I didn’t make a move right now you’d be snatched up by some other girl. But I think I moved too soon, you know?”

I felt like I was being tugged in two different directions: one part was extremely sympathetic while the other wanted to crush cars with my bare fists. Before I acted too rashly, I took a deep breath and ran a hand through my hair. The better move here is to play the kind gentleman providing a shoulder to cry on. In a few days, I could collect myself and hopefully, make more meaningful progress with another one of my prospects.

“You’re okay, Courtney. You’re in a lot of emotional pain right now and people act quite irrationally when they’re upset enough.” I tried to smile in a sweet, reassuring way. “Let’s just be friends for now. I’m happy to be someone to confide in for now. And when you’re up for it, we can try this again if you want to...”

Courtney sniffed a few times while giving me the most pathetic look she could. She pulled a tissue out of her glove box, wiped her eyes and nose, then looked back at me with a strange determination in her eyes.

“Promise me something, Alejandro?”

“What is that?” A sense of dread crawled down my neck and I could feel the ghost of Courtney’s lips from a few minutes before.

“When we become exclusive, you won’t ever cheat on me.” Her eyes were daggers, pinning me to the car seat.

I swallowed hard and involuntarily raised my hands in an “I surrender” gesture. “Never.”

“Good.” She nodded and readjusted herself.

Then she spent an agonizing five minutes preening herself with the car mirror. Sweat raced down the back of my neck and I was imagining shackled wrists. If only I had another ride back to school.

As Courtney drove back, she slipped back to her normal demeanor. She carried on a one-sided discussion about how she wanted to decorate the gym for the upcoming Homecoming dance. It took all my will power not to bash open the side door and take off at roadrunner speeds once we returned to school.

“So...here’s my number,” Courtney said shyly, holding up her phone and showing me her details.

Heart hammering in my chest, I took out my own phone and pretended to punch in her details.

“Got it.”

“Text me, okay?” She smiled sweetly and chuckled. “Walk me to class?”

“I’m sorry, Courtney. I promised the science teacher I’d help set up his next presentation.”

“Aw, you’re so sweet, Alejandro.” With that, she waved and took off for her next class.

As shameful as this is for me to admit, I skipped my last class and spent thirty minutes splashing my face with water and mulling over my new Courtney situation. I even took the time to scrub at the lip gloss marks, but even after I’d wiped them off, I could still feel a lingering tingle. It was rare that a kiss came with such a heavy price tag attached.

***

On the way home, I grabbed a cheap greasy McDonald’s burger. Then I holed up in my room, or more specifically, the room I shared with Jose. I was so thankful he had an all-night shift at the gas station tonight.

I wedged myself in the corner of the room wedged between my bed and the wall. Overflowing with shame, I reached into the paper bag and dug out the cancer-on-a-bun burger. My eyes started welling with frustrated tears as I tore off the thin yellow wrapper and took a big bite. No matter how much I thoroughly despised McDonald’s, it was still better and a quick, convenient substitute for Athena’s rubbery pasta.

There was a knock at the bedroom door. My shoulders sagged and I closed my eyes, smiling wryly at the sliding lock on the door. Both that lock had been pulled across and Jose’s computer chair had been wedged under the knob.

“Alejandro? It’s dinner time!” Carlos called out. “Mama and Athena are waiting.”

“I have a big test tomorrow!” I called back as big fat embarrassing tears rolled down my cheeks. “I really need to study. I grabbed something on the way home so I could get right to it.”

“Care to join us for a few minutes?” Carlos asked, slight concern in his voice.

“It’s a test for French class.”

There were a few beats of silence. Carlos was well aware of how infatuated I was with the French language. I remember gushing to him over the phone years ago about how desperately I wanted a chance to practice speaking and refining my so limited pool of knowledge on the subject. So, this was one of the few lies I knew I could successfully sell him on.

Carlos let out a heavy sigh. “Alright. I hope you do well tomorrow.”

I took another bite of the burger and sloppily swiped at my tears with one of the napkins in the bag. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t get myself to finish the nightmare burger. It ended up in the trash along with the uneaten sugar-drenched fries once I threw myself back on the mattress. The smell lingered heavily in the air. My stomach churned and lurched, but I’ve been getting used to scents from the seventh level of hell over the past week.

Jose had been dragging fast food home for the past week. Somehow, his diet had increased dramatically and the fellow that used to send well done steak back to the chef was shoveling down grease-soaked burgers every night. He was a very broken and defeated man, but he was too proud to express himself or talk things out. Instead, he was turning to fast food for...I don’t know. Comfort?

I guess. I guess I was hoping that it might help me too. If one McDonald’s burger could fill the void growing in my stomach then I could easily balance it out with enough exercise and meditation later, right? I’ve been exercising, but my mind is too rattled to meditate lately.

A few more tears rolled down my face when my cell phone buzzed in my pocket. I scrubbed at my face, hating how gross and weak and utterly pathetic I felt. My heart sank to the toes of my boots when I glanced at the screen. But I steeled myself and answered anyway.

“Hello Papa...” I managed, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

“Hello Alejandro. I have a proposition for you.”

“Yes…?” I felt so low right now it was hard to summon up any kind of reaction. All I knew was that he was about to dangle something in my face like a callous fisherman baits an unsuspecting worm. He’d always enjoyed pitting Jose and I against each other by offering exclusive opportunities like a chance to go to a prestigious private school in Paris or a violin lesson with the best violinist in the world. All it took was furthering our hatred for each other and achieving some arbitrary, petty goal that ultimately made Papa look better in the long run.

“I remember how you used to go on and on about wanting to study architecture at the Pratt Institute...” Papa said with a certain smugness and satisfaction in his voice. What I imagined was an anthropomorphic cat with a wide, devilish grin full of sharp, glinting canines.

“Yes?”

“I’ll cover your full tuition if you get straight As this semester and become the president of at least two school clubs as well as earn the class president title overall.”

A big lump formed in my throat as I shot a tired look at the architecture books lying at the base of my bed. Blueprints and pictures of beautiful, arcing Gothic cathedrals filled my mind’s eye. Drool collected on my bottom lip and I swallowed hard.

“And you know what kinds of connections I have.” He chuckled softly. “I could set you up with a job right out of college.”

My heart was stuck inside of a piano getting played by an insane pianist that kept pounding the pedals. Every heart beat was strained and painful as if my heart was set between a piano hammer and string.

“What do you say, Alejandro?”

He knew he had hooked me in. I was a helpless fish, desperately floundering about and trying to return to the placid waters below.

“Yes.” I swallowed hard. “Yes, I’ll do it.”

[hermannsthumb]

I love your writing so much 💕 💗 ❤️ and you write so much I don’t know how you do it. You write newt and hermans characters perfectly. Could you write about Herman finding newt trying to test his drift theory, or perhaps finding the tape newt left after everything is over and they’re together. Love 😋

ohohohoho finding the tape is such a classic vintage newt/hermann fic trope that ive somehow never written before (also thank u for ur lovely kind words!!!)

Packing up the lab takes a lot less time than either Newt or Hermann expect; they’d spent five years of their lives in that lab, after all, five years of deep research (broken vials and useless equations scrawled on graph paper and slowly decaying specimens), five years of cohabitation (mugs and dirty sweatshirts and the odd decades-old family photograph), five years of accumulating random junk (posters and dusty books and weird little trinkets Newt found in the city and gifted to Hermann), and that’s to say nothing of the contents of their bunks just off of the lab. Newt thought it would take them weeks, months, even, but the whole process only takes a few days. He supposes it helps that a lot of it is PPDC property and, thus, highly confidential and nothing they can take with them, and the stuff that isn’t highly confidential is useless at this point anyway.

What isn’t repossessed in the dead of night by Higher-Ups (Newt never even got to bid his samples farewell) mostly goes in the trash--Newt’s stash of disposable gloves, his work apron, pencils he’d stolen from Hermann and chewed beyond recognition, orange peels and dried teabags that littered Hermann’s desk, tiny nubs of chalk that were physically impossible to write with but Hermann refused to let go of until now. What isn’t repossessed or thrown out goes in cardboard boxes marked with Geiszler + Gottlieb in thick black Sharpie (because Hermann not-too-subtly indicated he wouldn’t mind continuing this trend of co-habitation with Newt even beyond their working relationship, and by “wouldn’t mind” Newt means, of course, that he caught Hermann looking up vacant apartments within walking distance from universities in every major city they had even the smallest emotional connection to, and not even specifying more than one bedroom).

All that’s left to do is finish going through their desks, which is proving to be the most demanding task of all. They have a lot of crap.

“You should save that,” Newt remarks, as Hermann attempts to throw one of his old work journals into the industrial-sized trash bin they’ve moved near the lab’s entrance. Newt’s on his hands and knees doing his very busy to peel up the hazmat tape that divides the lab.

“It’s just old, useless coding,” Hermann says, waving the book. “And I really do mean useless. Random scribbling. Not even a rough draft of a draft.”

If Hermann’s willingly parting with some of his precious math, it really must be useless. Still: Newt sits back on his heels and raises his eyebrows. “Could be worth a lot of money, dude,” he says. “You could sell it to the Smithsonian.”

Hermann snorts. “It’s garbage, Newton.”

Newt holds his hands up and mimes the shape of an imaginary plaque that would, hypothetically, adorn the museum exhibit for him and Hermann that will definitely exist one day. “‘Authentic jaeger coding by Dr. Hermann Gottlieb, PhD, rockstar, nerd savior of the world.’” Hermann laughs again, and Newt shrugs with a grin.

“Mm,” Hermann says, and tosses the notebook in the bin. “I’m sure. What about these?” He holds up more dried orange peels. (Where the hell was Hermann keeping all those? Why didn’t he just throw them out right away?) “Are these also worthy of a museum?”

“‘Authentic sustenance for Dr. Hermann Gottlieb, PhD, rockstar--’”

The orange peels go in too.

“Fine,” Newt tsks, scraping up another bit of tape, “but when I make a profit off my old tissues don’t expect me to spend any of it on our rent.”

“Our rent,” Hermann echoes, and Newt goes hot in the face and scrapes even harder. He spares a glance up once the clacking of Hermann’s cane fades to the opposite side of the lab: Hermann is smiling. Something flutters in Newt’s chest.

He can do this, Newt tells himself, heart pounding, scraping at the hazmat tape. He and Hermann can do this together, like they do everything. They can live together. They can navigate a relationship together. A relationship relationship, something clear and defined and real and more than just the confused jumble of emotions they’ve existed in a state of for years and years. They have time. They have all the time they could ever want, and they have each other. Another few inches of filthy, faded tape come up, and Newt turns it over thoughtfully in his hands. How poetic, really, that it’s one of the last things to go before he and Hermann--

“Is this yours?” Hermann calls over.

He’s holding up a very familiar tape recorder, and the bubbling warmth and hope in Newt’s chest deflates quickly. It must’ve gotten mixed up with Hermann’s things after Newt drifted with the kaiju brain. “Uh,” Newt says, scrambling to his feet and stumbling over to Hermann, because Hermann cannot listen to that tape, “that’s mine, I just--take notes on it, let me--” He swipes for it, but Hermann--giving him a rather bewildered look--tucks it to his chest and presses play.

“Kaiju-Human Drift Experiment Take One,” the Newt of four days ago says, and Newt shrinks back.

Hermann does not look away from the tape recorder the entire time, not when Newt explains what he’s going to do, not at Hermann, if you’re listening to this, not even when Newt’s monologuing devolves into half-shouts and gasps and a loud thud that means he’s fallen against Hermann’s desk and to the ground. The tape runs out just as Hermann enters and cries out his name, cuts off with an audible click in the middle of a long stream of no, no, nos that twist the knife of guilt deeper and deeper into Newt’s stomach. (He knew Hermann was the one who found him, the one who yanked Newt back to reality and cradled him in his arms and brought him water and tucked his glasses carefully into his pocket, but he didn’t think--well--he didn’t realize how it must’ve been for Hermann to find him.)

When Hermann does look up, his smile has vanished entirely. “I see,” he says, icily. He thrusts the tape recorder back at Newt.

“Okay,” Newt says, “okay, listen, I know you’re probably thinking what an asshole I am right now--”

“Oh?” Hermann says, in mock-surprise.

“--but in my defense,” Newt continues, weakly, “I didn’t really think I was gonna die?” It’s the wrong thing to say. Hermann throws the tape recorder aside to the lab floor and pushes himself to his feet. “Hermann,” Newt says, “Hermann--” Newt grabs his arm, and Hermann shakes him off.

“You very nearly did die,” Hermann snaps, “and the very last thing you ever said would’ve--”

Newt grabs for him again. “I didn’t really mean--”

“Newton,” Hermann says, furious and commanding, and Newt flinches but doesn’t let go.

“I’m sorry,” Newt says quickly. Hermann scoffs, but Newt presses on. “I’m sorry, seriously, Hermann, I mean it. I was pissed at you for treating me like an idiot, and I thought--I don’t know. I wanted to piss you off too. I wanted to prove you wrong. It was...petty.”

“It was,” Hermann agrees. He doesn’t look like he’s going to storm out of the lab anymore, which is good, even if he’s still scowling. “It was petty, and it was cruel, Newton.”

It’s Newt’s turn to scowl. “And shooting down all my theories for six months like I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing and making me feel useless isn’t?”

Hermann does wrench his arm away this time. “I was worried your complete lack of self-preservation would get you killed, you imbecile, that’s the only reason I shot down your theories!” Newt snaps his mouth shut, but Hermann keeps shouting. “I wasn’t going to stand by and watch you--!” His voice breaks.

Newt’s kissed Hermann before (clumsy and drunk at Shatterdome parties, hard and furious during their not-infrequent no-strings-attached fucks on the floor of the lab or against Hermann’s chalkboard, sweet and gentle the night they closed the Breach and Hermann swept him into his arms and laughed and smiled), kissing Hermann is nothing new, not even when Hermann’s pissed at him, but they don’t hug, they don’t touch each other much, so Newt surprises them both when he flings himself at Hermann--who stiffens quickly--and wraps him into a hug. “I’m sorry,” Newt says, eyes prickling hot (Hermann saved him twice, Hermann found him seizing and bleeding and cradled him in his arms, Hermann drifted with him and for him, Hermann loves him and Newt was careless and cruel), “I’m sorry, I’m sorry--”

He hears Hermann sigh, feels him sag as the fight leaves him, then touch Newt’s back tentatively with his free hand. “Newton,” he murmurs. “Oh, darling--” Newt sniffles pathetically; Hermann slides his hand up to stroke gently at Newt’s hair instead. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he confesses softly, and Newt clings to him tighter.

They throw the tape recorder out together.

[cutaepatootie]

Second Love - 01

Pairing: Yoongi | Reader. Genre: Angst, SummerLove AU, Fluff & (future) Smut Word Count: 9k

A/N: This is the first part of this “short story”. I’ll upload the second part next week. Enjoy! <3

Pt. 01  |  Pt. 02  |  Pt. 03

Winter, 2016

You hate Sundays.

You have always hated them. There’s something about them you can’t quite decipher… 

Is it because you know the weekend has come to an end and a new boring week is going to start? Is it monotony? Loneliness? Sadness? Nostalgia? You hate Sundays, but this specific Sunday, today, you can feel a heavy feeling in the back of your head. Is it because of the cloudy sky? Or is it just you? Is it the cold weather of Seoul’s Winter? Or is it just you?

You sigh and rub your temples as you place your head on the window, the only thing separating you from the freezing glass being your grey beanie. It has been a rough day at the hospital. Running up and down and not even stopping to have a cup of coffee. The snow has blocked some of the main roads and it has caused a few accidents. Blood, bones, people crying, more blood… You hate Sundays. No, you hate winter Sundays. All you want to do is arrive to your small apartment, call your mom, call your sister, have a nice bath and eat some pizza while cuddling on the sofa with your American Stanford: Pongo. As the bus makes its way through the crowded streets of the city you moved in when you were ten, you look at the skyscrapers, the lights, the snow that covers the pavement, the people (hating Sundays as much as you do for what you can see in their faces) the cars, the streets… You would usually read a book since you always spend forty five minutes in the bus, but you finished the one Mei lent you last week and you have already read all the books you own, which are a few to say the least. 

It seems just like any other boring ride home on another boring Sunday evening. Or at least it seems so until the bus stops. 

You love observing people, debating whether they are good people or not. If they are happy or not. If they have someone waiting for them at home or not. So, having nothing to distract you with, you start checking out every single person that enters the bus. Some of them greet the driver, other just lower their heads and go straight to take a seat as if their lives depended on it. 

The bus closes its doors then and the driver starts the engine again until you hear some noises from the outside. A boy is running next to the bus, his fist hitting the door once in a while until he gets the attention from the driver and the bus stops. 

Ding Ding Ding

Your attention is drawn back to  your phone in your hands and it distracts you from what is going on inside the bus. 

Mei: heeeey girl :)            19:51 PM

Mei: what r you up to?     19:51 PM

Mei: Jae called me asking if you were coming tonight *black moon face emoji* lmao  19:51 PM

You sigh and look up, seeing the boy already seated on one the front seats of the bus. 

You: heeeeey <3    19:53 PM

You: don’t know… i’m really, really tired :(  19:53PM

Mei is determined in pairing you up with someone, so she has been introducing you to every single one of her boyfriend’s friends, even his younger brother and a couple of cousins. What is her problem? 

You broke up with your ex-boyfriend just a couple of months ago and you didn’t even felt sad about it. You are really good friends now and you’re happy with how everything ended. You don’t need any man in your life right now, except from Pongo of course.

Mei: ohhhhh, c'mon Y/N…  19:54 PM

Mei: the boy seems really interested in you *black moon face emoji again* wink wink  19:54 PM

You can’t help but smile as you make a mental list of pros and cons about going out tonight with your best friend, her boyfriend and her boyfriend’s best friend. You had met Jaebum two weeks ago or so, at a bar when you “sporadically ran into” Mei’s boyfriend and his friends. You already knew a few of them and you had refused to be something more than friends with them. But you had never seen Jaebum. Apparently he is one of the lawyers of an important firm and he is really busy all the time. 

You: i don’t know Mei… If it was a Saturday night… But tomorrow is Monday and we have to work  19:55 PM

Mei: so?  19:55PM

Mei: Jae and Jackson have to work too, so they’ll bring us home early  19:56 PM

Mei: pleaseeee… :)))  19:56 PM

You huff and start typing something when you hear a familiar laugh in the bus. It can’t be… No.

You must have heard wrong.

He lives now in Daegu, doesn’t he?

It can’t be him.

Your eyes wander around the bus in search of the thin, pale boy, landing on a little kid that is looking at you with his finger stuck up in his nose. You search again, relaxing when you don’t see the boy.

But when you lower your head again to look at your phone, you hear it again. Clearer this time, you are sure it’s his laugh.

What the heck? He now  lives in Daegu, Y/N. It can’t be him. There are plenty of people with that raspy laugh. Right?

But the laugh sounds again trough the silent bus, as if it wants you to know that he’s there. It is a bit raspier than you remember. But it is his. You have no doubt now. 

You lock your phone and look again through the bus, your eyes landing on that little kid again, moving his finger non-stop into his nose. You smile at him, but the kid frowns and continues his search into his nose as he tears his gaze away from you.

That’s when you snap and you finally see him.

He was the boy that had ran until the bus stopped. How can you have not recognised him since the very beginning? 

He must be reading something funny in his phone or something, but you can’t see it clearly since his back is facing you. He is wearing black…

What a surprise! 

His hair seems tidier and so do his clothes. He looks like the boy you met ten years ago, the same that made you hate him with all your soul and then love him with your entire heart. He looks like the boy you met at the countryside ten summers ago, the same that dreamt about being free and rebellious. The one that dreamt about writing songs that could free and rebel souls. 

And you can’t help but feel yourself drift away from that bus, on this cold Sunday evening, and go back in time to that warm Sunday ten years ago when you met Min Yoongi.

//

Summer, 2006

You hated Sundays. 

You had always hated them. There was something about them you couldn’t quite decipher. 

Was it because you knew the weekend had come to an end and a new boring week was going to start? Was it monotony? Loneliness? Sadness? Nostalgia?  

You hated Sundays, but that specific Sunday, you could feel a light feeling in the back of your head. 

Was it because of the bright and clear sky? Or was it just you? Was it the warm weather of Summer in the countryside? Or was it just you?

Since your father had been travelling non-stop that year, and he had barely been at home; he had came across with the fantastic idea of renting a cottage in the middle of nowhere to spend more time together as a family. And you loved the idea.

You loved Summer. You loved the countryside and you loved spending some time with your family. 

So, as your sister was playing stupid games with her boyfriend (who she brought everywhere lately) in the pool in the backyard, and your parents were either taking a nap or watching a movie in the living room; you sat in the swing that was in the front porch, a book in your hand and a glass of cool lemonade next to you. You hated Sundays, but that Sunday was starting to become more and more tolerable.

“Hey!” you suddenly heard a feminine voice coming from the front of the porch. You looked up, your eyes finding a girl, more or less you age, with long black hair and a radiant smile on her lips. She was carrying a tray. 

“Hey” you said, closing your book and standing up from the swirl, nearly smashing the glass full of lemonade on the floor in the process. You didn’t know what to do. Were you supposed to give her a hug? To take the tray? To stand there smiling at her like an idiot as you did?

“I’m Suni, but you can call me Sun” she said, her smile never leaving her full lips. She was really pretty standing there in her bright yellow summer dress, with her hair contrasting with her pale skin and her pink cheeks adorning her round face. You suddenly felt out of place, with your hair – dirty from the pool - in a messy bun (but not a cute messy bun), you old dad’s t-shirt and a pair of shorts. 

You saw her extend her hand towards you and you shook it with the one that wasn’t holding the book you were reading, your cheeks slightly pink from the embarrassment of being as shy as you always were. “I’m Y/N, but you can call me… Y/N, I guess… That’s how everyone calls me” you said, trying to say more than one word in the same sentence. That was the first possible friend you had met since you arrived on Friday, you didn’t want her to think that you were weird. But instead of thinking you were weird, Sun thought you were really cute and her smile widened. 

“I know you arrived here on Friday” she said, tearing her hand away from yours and handing the tray that contained a very yummy-looking sponge cake. “So I wanted to say hi and give this to you. I made it myself but I won’t give you the recipe cause it’s a secret.”

You laughed, a bit of your nervousness fading away. She looked like a really easy-going girl, and since you were the opposite from easy-going, you liked that. “How bad, it looks delicious.”

“Thanks, it is” she smiled again. “Will you be here for the rest of the Summer?” “Yeah, unless my father has planned some new adventure he has yet to tell us, I’m staying here till September.” 

Sun looked at the door behind you, inspecting the whole place. “Oh shit, sorry, you must think I’m so rude. You wanna come in? We can…” you started to say so fast your brain wasn’t eve processing your words.

“Yeah, I’d love to. You have the rest of the Summer to get to know me, but let me tell you I’m super noisy and I love seeing other people’s houses” she said in a high pitched voice.

You showed her the small cottage, your parents looked really happy seeing you making friends and they thought Suni was a really nice girl. You ended up eating the sponge cake in your room while you spoke about everything: series you liked, your favourite films, your music tastes… You discovered she was really into reading and fluffy cats, just like you. She lived there all year – in the house that was just on the other side of the road, in front of your cottage - and went to a nearby high school that was just a few villages away. She had your same age and she had an older brother. By seven o’clock she was heading to her home again. 

“Oh” she said, turning around. You looked at her holding the front door with your left hand. “I forgot to tell you that tonight I’m going out with my brother and his friends. You should come.”

With her brother and friends? You were already shy around new people, let alone boys. Boys who were older than you and - for what Sun had told you – reckless, adventurous and wild. Nevertheless, you had boy friends back home in Seoul. What was the difference? Well, the difference was that you met them when you first moved in Seoul, you were ten and you didn’t know what being shy was. Now that you were seventeen, everything had changed. From the way you saw yourself to the way you saw boys. Boys weren’t just your friends anymore. They were beings you sometimes found really attractive and that made you ridiculously nervous. But a part of you was willing to say yes and so you did. At the end you would spend the following three months in that village. Having some friends wouldn’t hurt, right?

. . .

You were extremely nervous as you let Suni lead you to the place you would meet her brother and his friends. What would they think of you? Would they accept you or would they find you boring and tell you not to come over again? Were they nice or just some stupid teenagers messing around? Suni was walking by your side, talking non-stop about something you wasn’t hearing. You knew you were being rude by not hearing what she was telling you, but since she came to pick you up and you saw her in a beautiful pink skater skirt and a cute t-shirt you had felt nothing but insecure. You loved the black short overalls you were wearing and the orange oversized t-shirt too, but you felt really ugly compared to her. 

“Don’t be nervous” Sun suddenly said, snapping you back to reality. “They’re really cool laid-back guys.”

Her tone was really soft and her eyes were shining in the dark. There was no bad in her, and you trusted her words. “I’m just a bit shy whenever I’m meeting new people. I’m really talkative once I get comfortable, but it takes me a bit of time.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be by your side and whenever you wanna go home I’ll go with you. You’re the only cool girl in this village right now, I have to keep you.” You wanted to ask her if there were more girls in the village, but the bright lights of a football field came into view. The field was nearly out of the village and it had took you half an hour to arrive there.

“There they are” she said, starting to speed up in the direction of the football field. You could hear the loud voices of the boys from afar. They were laughing and screaming at each other. You could see them too, they looked really cool and funny. “Hey boys!” She screamed, opening the door of the fence that delimited the field. 

You entered behind Suni and you could feel all the boy’s eyes on you. You were sure your cheeks were burning red, but you tried to hide it lowering your head and letting your hair fall into your cheeks. You followed Suni to the stands where some of the boys were sitting. As you approached, the smell of something you recognised became strong. 

“Suni” a tall boy said, climbing down the stands and handing what looked like a joint to another boy. “What are you doing here?” He lowered his voice as he approached you both. 

“You told me you were coming here this morning” Suni said, menacingly looking to the boy that looked just like her. He had his hair shorter on the sides and then longer at the top, styled away from his forehead. He had the same full lips Suni had and you could see two small dimples on his cheeks every time he opened his mouth. 

Who you supposed was Suni’s brother sighed. “Right, but don’t be all over Tae as you were the last time” he didn’t even look at you, giving your cheeks time to return to their normal shade. “And don’t tell mom that we were smoking.” “Okay. I won’t tell her. But you have to let me and my friend play football.” She said, proudly lifting up her chin. “Y/N, meet my brother Namjoonie, Namjoonie, meet our new neighbour and my new friend Y/N.”

“Namjoon, thanks” he said through gritted teeth, slowly killing his younger sister with his gaze. “Nice to meet you. You’re the girl that moved in the small cottage last Friday?” Namjoon was now staring at you with a wide smile on his lips, showing you his adorable dimples. 

“Nice to meet you too. Yeah, I’m gonna stay here all Summer.” You said, trying not to blush again under the handsome boy’s gaze. 

“Cool. Let me introduce you to this assholes.” He turned around and made a high noise with his mouth. “Guys!” He shouted, catching everyone’s attention. The rest of the boys stopped doing what they were doing and looked at you, making you blush again. Shit, they’re gonna think I’m an idiot or something. “Guys, listen. Tonight we have a guest. She’s Y/N and she’s staying at the cottage across my street. You better show her some respect.”

“This is Hoseok, my best mate here” Namjoon introduced you to a boy with a wide smile on his face and bright eyes. His hair was longer than Namjoon’s and was parted to the side. “Hey Y/N, nice to meet ya’” the boy said with his graceful voice. 

“This is Taehyung…” Namjoon started introducing you to the boys one by one. You thought they were all really cool and nice and you started to feel more relaxed as one by one started greeting you back with wide smiles. They were seven boys in total counting Namjoon and Hoseok: Taehyung, Jin, Jimin and Jungkook, a boy who seemed the shyest of them all. He was the youngest, only a year younger than you. And then Namjoon introduced you to the boy who he had passed the joint before. He seemed the most laid back of them all. He nodded in your direction from his seat on the stands when Namjoon introduced you to him. His name was Yoongi. It attracted your attention how the black of his hair and his clothes contrasted with his pale skin.

But throughout the night that attraction slowly faded away. 

You were playing football in a team with Hoseok and Taehyung. Jungkook was complaining about Jimin and Suni being too slow and bad. Your team had scored two goals and their hadn’t even touched the area near your goal. Your eyes escaped from time to time to the stands, where Yoongi was smoking his joint and writing something in a black notebook, not even looking upwards for a minute. Jin and Namjoon laughed next to him, commentating on the match. You never knew why - with boys as nice as Hoseok in the group - your attention was drawn back to Yoongi every once in a while.  Later that night, when you were back at the cottage, in your bed, you couldn’t stop thinking about that blank expression and that bored expression on his face. And you wondered… How can someone seem so empty while doing such a thing as writing on a notebook at one AM. . . . The following weeks were spent with Suni and the boys. What started like any other boring Summer, soon became the best Summer of your life. And it was just the beginning. 

You spent the mornings sleeping or at the pool in your cottage, with Suni, gossiping about girls you didn’t even knew. She told you about the other group of girls in the village. They considered themselves better than the others and they kept bitching around, that was why Suni ditched them and now they were like number one enemies. She told you about her and Tae and how she really liked him but he was so into his own little bubble that he was oblivious.

You spent each afternoon at Suni’s house, where the boys would play water polo in the pool or volleyball.  When you had been in the pool for so long your skin could barely bear it, you would put on your dry clothes and ride your bikes to the forest, where you would see the sunset sat on a high rock, singing, playing the guitar and laughing to nonsense. 

At night Suni and you would join them in the football field, Jungkook always asking for the rematch. But most of the nights Suni would just stay at your cottage because the boys had met with the “bitches”, you would watch a film and talk till you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore.

But as always, Yoongi would remain silent, away from the group, just watching you and the boys play or writing in his notebook again. You wondered what he wrote. Was he some sort of poet? He didn’t seem so. You didn’t want to ask Suni about him because she would say you liked him and bla, bla, bla. You didn’t like him. How could you like someone as dull, boring, serious and impassible as him? But then again, you found yourself thinking about him each time you closed your eyes. About his blank expression as he wrote in the notebook, or about his dark eyes that you sometimes caught looking at yours.  

It had already been three weeks since you meet Suni and the boys when the Summer Festival started. It was a week full of cattle exhibitions, tractor races, competitions and attractions. They settled a big wheel and other attractions and more and more tourists started to arrive to the small village. Your parents were amazed by everything and your father always told your mother “See? It was a great idea coming here!“ 

It started Friday and ended the following Sunday. 

It was Friday and you were helping your parents. You were going to have dinner at the field in which the fair was settled. It was full of attractions, tents in which the kids sold their handicrafts and people setting their tables. That week, people used to bring their tables and their food and they would have dinner in the middle of the field, sharing with their neighbours. You and Suni were speaking on your way to the field as you carried trays with food, you were being very careful to not trip over and ruin the food your mom had spent cooking the entire day. 

After you had dinner, your parents stayed there till late, speaking with Suni’s and some of the other boy’s parents. 

You and Suni, went to the football field, where Namjoon told you they would be. But when you arrived, you and Suni’s faces completely changed as you saw the group of bitches playing and flirting with the boys. Anger started boiling through your veins. 

“I’m gonna kill those bitches with my football skills” you whispered through gritted teeth. 

Suni laughed at your comment, but she turned serious when she saw one of them specially flirting with Taehyung. 

“Holy shit, you better not touch what is mine kitten” Suni whispered too, grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards the field. She opened the door of the fence like she was doing an epic entrance. 

You saw five girls and you saw they were all beautiful. Suni had told you that not every girl lived in the village all year, some stayed only for the summer, like Jimin and Jin.

“Hey Namjoon, what are you guys up to?” Suni said. Namjoon, who was laughing with two girls, one by each of his sides, looked at Suni and you like he wanted to kick you out of there. You were really good friends and sometimes he had even spent the entire morning at your pool playing with his sister and you, but at the end of the day you were just that: his sister’s friend. And you were Suni’s friend to the rest of the boys too. You saw in the boys expressions you were a bit out of place. You felt your heart sink in the back of your chest. But mostly, you felt anger all over you. How could they be like that? They spend every single day with you and Suni and they had a lot of fun with you, but when they wanted something more than friendship they forgot about Suni and you and suddenly they were only available for those stupid girls.

“We… Er…” he started to say.

From the corner of your eye you caught Yoongi laughing with one of those girls. Shit, he must have liked her if he was letting her invade his personal space and touch him. His black notebook that was always by his side was nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t the first time you saw him laughing, but it was very rare you got to see his small teeth peeking through his full lips. You loved his smile and the way his eyes closed, looking even smaller than they were. But you keep it as a secret. Just as you kept in secret how you loved his snarky remarks that made you bit the inside of your cheek to avoid laughing. He hadn’t direct a word towards you in the three weeks you had known him, but you sometimes caught him looking at you, with that same impassible expression on his face. You didn’t know what was in him that seemed to attract you, but the one thing you knew was that Yoongi wasn’t so fond of you as you were of him.

“We’re going to drink and play some truth or dare,” a high-pitched voice announced. The girl that had been flirting with Tae appeared in front of you and Suni. “I’m sure you would get bored, right Suns?”

You saw Sun open her mouth to fire back at that girl, but Hoseok appeared with his bright smile and his sweaty bangs from playing football with Jimin, Tae and Kookie. 

“Hey girls.” he smiled. “Are you gonna play tonight?”

Suni flinched next to you when the girl that had spoken to her intertwined his hand with Tae’s. Ugh, she was such a bitch. You could tell she was going to say no. You were shy, but you weren’t letting those bitches win. 

“Yeah, we are” you said before Suni could say otherwise. 

“Great!” Tae said, clapping his hands. 

“We are seven boys and seven girls then” Jimin said, placing the ball on the ground. 

“No guys, I’m not gonna play” you heard the low voice come from behind you. You turned to see Yoongi standing from the stands, leaving the other girl alone.

“Ohhh, c'mon Yoongs” Jimin pouted.

“Hyung, if you don’t play we won’t be even anymore” Jungkook protested. “I’m tired of this childish, stupid game,” he said, adjusting his black t-shirt. “I’m in for the drinks, but not for the game.” he repeated.

“Ohhh, c'mon Yoongi, play with us” the girl that was sat by his side stood up too and approached him. “I’ll get bored if you don’t play.”

“I really don’t care, all I wanna do is drink with my mates, but lately we’re surrounded by girls no matter what” he said, sounding more angry than ever before. But he wasn’t angry at you nor at Suni or the other girls. He was angry with the boys. You finally understood why Yoongi had been so distant. Maybe he was as uncomfortable around girls as you were around boys? It can be so, I saw him earlier all touchy with that girl.

“We’ll drink later, mate. I promise” Namjoon spoke for the first time since the first girl interrupted him.

Yoongi seemed hesitant. 

“C'mon Yoongs!” Hoseok said as he jumped on Yoongi’s back. The older boy seemed not so pleasant about the other boy’s show of affection, but he ended up sighing.

“Okay. But I’ll only play a few rounds and then I’ll go home. And this is going to be the last time we play this stupid game” he said. Wow. That had been the longest sentence you had heard from him. You couldn’t help but get nervous at the thought of playing truth or dare with he. Well, you weren’t only playing with Yoongi…

“Are they gonna play then?” the first girl asked then, looking at Suni and you as if you were the most disgusting thing on Earth.

“Yes” that was the only thing you said.

“Who the hell are you?” she asked. 

You were going to open that - sometimes - big mouth of yours when Suni beat you up. “Her name is Y/N and if I were you, I would make sure to speak to her with more respect the next time.”

“Woah, woah, girls stop” Jin said. “Let’s play”

Twenty minutes and a few rounds of truth or dare later you were sat in the middle of the field, in a big circle. As you were an even number, a boy was sat in between each girl, having Hobi and Jimin by your sides. You laughed non-stop with them when someone had to do an embarrassing dare and blushed when, each time you chose truth, everyone complained about you being boring.

You were willing to do a dare, but you were afraid they would make you do something like fake an orgasm as they had made Suni make. Or even worst, you were afraid they’d dare you to kiss someone. They had made Irene - the bitch of all bitches - kiss with Kookie, making the boy blush fiercely. 

“Y/N, truth or dare?” Hobi asked you.

You were going to answer when a plain voice interrupted you. “Why do you even ask, mate?” Yoongi said. “She’ll pick truth. Dare is too much for her.” You saw the devilishly smile on his face and you wanted nothing but to erase it from his beautiful face.

“Dare” you said, making Yoongi shut up. 

“Woah, what a surprise” he said. He had had a few shots from the bottle of Vodka and now he seemed more relaxed. 

“I dare you…” Tae started, with a small smile on his lips. But then again, Yoongi interrupted him.

“No, let me think of a good one. I don’t think she will ever choose dare again” he said with a malicious smile on his face.

You swallowed, afraid of what Yoongi was thinking.

“I dare you to go to the Gong’s farm and steal a chick” he said, making everyone laugh but you and Suni.

“You have to be kidding me” you said through gritted teeth. “I’m not gonna do it” you crossed your arms and frowned. How could he be so cruel?

The Gong’s were an old couple whose farm was just next to the football field. They had been working in it all their life and you knew how disrespectful stealing from their farm was. Plus, you weren’t going to take a chick from his mother and siblings.

“Ha” Yoongi laughed in your face “I knew you wouldn’t do it. Then you have to take your overalls" 

“What?! I’m not gonna fucking take my overalls!” you was screaming now, red - but not because you were blushing. You were red from anger.

“Ts… Coward” you heard Yoongi, making the girls laugh.  

“Stop, Yoongi” Namjoon said.

“Why should I?” Yoongi snapped. “I’m tired of seeing you treat her like she is ten. She is fucking seventeen for fuck’s sake! She can defends herself too.” So he saw you as a ten year old kid, uh?

“Let’s see who is the ten year old kid here.” you said, standing up from your seat and storming out of the field.

“No! Wait Y/N!” you heard Suni “You’ll get into trouble!”

“I don’t fucking care!” you screamed back.

You could hear everyone laughing behind, most of the laughs being feminine’s. You were sure you were acting like a ten year old by doing just what Yoongi wanted you to, but he was right: they all saw you as a ten year old kid, just because you were a bit shy, even though you have proved to be nothing but shy when you started feeling comfortable around them. And you were going to change that.

You felt bad for the Gongs, but you were only going to take a chick and then you would bring it back the following day. You would take care of him and then you’d apologize. You heard steps behind you once you were far from the field. 

“Why are you following me?” you said, recognising Yoongi’s lazy steps. “Do you think I’m gonna cheat?”

“Yeah.” you heard his voice.

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling. How could you smile when he was being cruel to you and laughing at you?

“Just go away, they’ll catch us if we are two. One is more silent.” you whispered, approaching the fence to the Gong’s farm.

“They won’t catch us. They are seventy years old, they barely even heard.” You laughed at that, but it was an ironic laugh. “They are just older people, having more than sixty years doesn’t mean being deaf.”

“They won’t catch us because I saw them having dinner with my parents in the field. They aren’t home.” he said. You paused just behind the fence and you turned around to look at him. He was more beautiful than ever, only illuminated by the moon, his black hair somehow making him even more handsome. You shook your head and crouched down so you were able to make it through the wooden fence. 

“No.” you said as you saw Yoongi doing the same. But he ignored you. “We’re going to make more sound if we enter together, the animals will get scared”

“Oh my God Y/N…” He said, entering completely into the farm. You didn’t think twice about how he had called you for your name for the first time, or how he was even speaking to you for the first time. “Stop being such a brat and do it already.”

“You’re an asshole…” you grunted as you approached what you thought was the barn. Yoongi followed you. He was more silent than you thought he would be. “I think it’s here” you said, hearing the soft noises the animals made. You didn’t want to disturb them, so you opened the door cautiously. You and Yoongi walked through the sleeping cows until you got to where the chickens and hens were. 

You opened the small fence that separated the hens from the rest of the bigger animals. You saw a couple of chicks sleeping next to their mother. You were slowly approaching them when you heard soft noises and voices coming from outside the barn. 

“Holy shit” Yoongie whispered. “Speed up.”

“Yoongi, it isn’t worth it, we can run now and go unnoticed. If we stay here a little longer…”

“Oh, c'mon” he flicked his tongue making a loud noise that made all the hens and chickens to wake up. Just as they saw you, they started cheeping loudly.

“What’s wrong with you?!” you half whispered, half shouted. “Oh my God, my parents are going to kill me” you whispered as you ran to Yoongi, who was chasing after a chick. You grabbed the collar of his t-shirt and stopped him. “Leave the poor chick alone and get the fuck out from here” you said. 

But the loud noises of the hens had woken up the rest of the animals and the dog that was chained at the door started barking like crazy.

“C'mon Yoongi, we have to go” you grabbed his shirt again and pulled him out of the place the hens were, making sure you closed the small door behind your backs.

“What is going on here?” you heard a male voice coming from the door of the barn. The dog was still barking, following you both with his fiery eyes. Luckily, Yoongi had been right and Mr. and Mrs. Gong were old people, so Mr. Gong didn’t even see you.

“Here” Yoongi whispered, pulling you towards a small space that was in between the cows and the wall of the barn. “Run! C'mon, Y/N, run!” he shouted, but you could barely hear him through the noise the animals were making. You let Yoongi guide you and suddenly you were mere inches from the door.  

“Yuna!” you heard Mr. Gong. “Call the police I think someone’s in here!”

You felt sorry for the poor adorable couple. They were probably so scared their old hearts were about to explode.

“We should let them know we aren’t going to do any harm to them” you whispered. 

“Do you wanna get punished, because I don’t” he said.

“This is all you fault.” you whispered back. You could barely hear each other. “If you hadn’t came up with that stupid dare, then we wouldn’t be here.”

“My fault?!” Yoongi ironically laughed. “You were the one that accepted it.”

“It was it or taking my overalls” you spat, anger getting the best of you.

“No one was pointing at you with a gun to do the dare or take your overalls, you could have just gone hom - ” Yoongi started saying, but you knew he was right and didn’t want to admit it. Taking advantage of Mr. Gong’s being on the other side of the barn, you started running towards the entrance.

“Hey! Wait me!” you could hear Yoongi.

“HEY! YOU TWO! COME BACK HERE!” you heard Mr. Gong’s voice.

You ran as fast as you could, but screamed when you saw Mrs. Gong just in front of you, outside the barn.

“You’re the Y/L/N’s younger daughter?!” she said. “We were just having dinner with your parents” she started to say, but just as she was going to say something else, Yoongi collided with your back, nearly crashing you to the ground, wouldn’t have it been for his surprisingly strong hands that held you up. “Yoongi?! What’s going on here? What were you doing in our farm?! And what are you doing with one of my chicks on your hands?!”

You looked at Yoongi, with the poor chick on his hands. You wanted to kill him. When did he catch it? And how hadn’t you had noticed it? The poor animal was so frightened, he was trembling, calling for his mom.

“Yuna, who-? Yoongi, boy, what are you doing here? And who are you?” Mr. Gong said, out of breath and with an old riffle on his hands. . . . “I can’t believe this…” your mom said, pacing back and forth in the Gong’s living room. You and Yoongi after being caught red handed, followed the Gong’s into their house so they could call your parents and they could bring you home. You were both now sat on the sofa in the living room, hearing your parents apologise to the Gong’s. “Why would you do this?” your mom repeated. She looked sad and stressed. You knew you had messed everything up and now your parents would be upset with you. 

“I’m sorry mom, I didn’t want to cause such a scene.” you said, your eyes fixed on the floor. You weren’t able to look at anyone in the eyes in that moment, let alone the old couple that was still recovering from the shock. 

Yoongi was sat in the couch, keeping his distance from you. He, unlike you, seemed relaxed and not even a bit sorry for the shock you had both caused in the farm. He remained impassible even when his dad shouted at him.

“Why are you like this, Yoongi?” his father continued. “Is is too difficult for you to not get into trouble for once? Your mom and I are tired of fixing what you break." 

"It’s okay, they are young and wanted to have some fun. We aren’t mad, we were just a bit frightened. We only called you so you could come and pick them up” Mrs. Gong said. You felt really sorry for what you have done. They were old people. What if they had had a heart attack because of you or something like that? After all you and Yoongi had done they were still defending you. 

“No, Mrs. Gong” your father said. “They could have caused huge damage. And they did cause some damage at the barn. The least they could do is help you out in the farm for the rest of the summer.”

“What?!” Yoongi suddenly said, speaking for the very first time since your parents arrived. “I’m not working at a farm.” He crossed his arms and frowned. You remained silent, knowing that it would be worst if you answered back like he did. You deserved it and the least you could do was help the old couple in their farm. You loved animals, so it wouldn’t be such a punishment for you. 

“I think it’s a great idea.” Yoongi’s mother said. “You’ll help Mr. and Mrs. Gong at the farm every morning until the summer ends.”

“Oh, c'mon. You have to be fucking kidding me” Yoongi cursed. You could see the fire on his parents eyes. “Until the summer ends? No fucking way."  

"You will, Yoongi.” his father reassured. “It’ll maybe help you get away from that small bubble you are always in. You are twenty and you need to start doing something with your life other than write songs and daydreaming.”

For the first time since you met him, you saw his cheeks turn red with anger. But he didn’t say anything.

. . .

You woke up the next day at six AM in the morning so you could be at the farm at eight. You weren’t expecting to see Yoongi in the farm since he was so angry when he left with his parents the night before, but when you arrived at the Gong’s farm he was already there. For the very first time he wasn’t wearing black. He was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a red t-shirt. Even dressed like that, with his sleepy face and his messy hair you thought he was the most beautiful thing you had seen in your entire life. 

You worked in silence, cleaning the barn and helping Mr. Gong fixing what the animals broke the night before when he got scared. You fed the animals and helped milk the cows. When you arrived at home you were so tired you skipped lunch so you could sleep a bit. 

You saw Yoongi again that afternoon when you met with the boys at the fair. He looked like shit - still being a beautiful shit - just like you, but you were sure you weren’t as beautiful as he was even with his tired face. Why did he look so handsome to you when he had done nothing but get you in trouble and ignore you? The boys laughed like crazy when you told them what had happened the night before and what your parents had made you made. Yoongi looked angry still, not opening his mouth and at one point, storming out and disappearing. The Summer Festival ended and things came back to how they were before. The tourist had gone and the fair too. Waking up at six AM to help Mr. and Mrs. Gong at the farm had became a routine, a routine you started enjoying. You were happy helping Mrs. Gong feeding the hens and sheep. You were happy helping Mr. Gong in the field, colleting various vegetables and taking care of them. You were happy, but Yoongi wasn’t. 

Each passing day he would be there when you arrived to the farm and he would disappear without even saying goodbye. You would see him every evening when you met with Suni and the rest of the boys, but he was even quieter than before, his black notebook was nowhere to be seen anymore. Now he just passed the hours smoking and looking at the sky as you played with the rest of the boys.

Finally, when you had been working at the Gong’s farm for a week and a half, you asked Suni about Yoongi.

“Why are you asking me about him?” she said, taking a sip from the lemonade your mom had made you. You were both lying on the grass as the rest of the boys played water polo in your pool. Yoongi had stopped going out with you and the boys. “Do you like him?” Suni asked, wiggling her brows.

Your cheeks reddened and you tore your eyes away from your friend.

“Oh, gosh, no!” you said, too soon and too fast. You took a sip from your lemonade too, trying to hide your embarrassment. You liked Yoongi, yes. Why would you deny it to yourself anymore? You kept looking at him as he helped Mr. Gong in the field, you kept thinking about him when you went to bed, and you kept dreaming about him. You wouldn’t deny to yourself that you liked Yoongi, but you could still deny it to Suni… Right?

“Oh, don’t lie to my little shit. I know you like him, you can’t take your eyes away from him and since he hadn’t been around you are… Less happy.” Suni said. Shit, you couldn’t deny it to Suni either.

“Ugh Suns. I don’t know why I like him, he’s an asshole and he hasn’t even shown any interest in me.” you lowered your voice so none of the boys could hear you. Hobi was screaming like crazy and Jin’s laugh was really loud, but you were afraid they would hear you confessing your liked their friend. 

“Yoongi never shows any interest towards anyone or anything. Well, anything but his black notebook.” she smiled. 

“What does he write on that notebook?” you asked the question that had been rounding your mind since Yoongi’s dad mentioned it the night you got caught at the Gong’s farm. “I heard he writes songs?”

Suni was about to answer when Tae appeared behind her and grabbed her by the waist, throwing them both to the pool. You happily smiled seeing your friend so happy with her crush, but you couldn’t help but wonder what Yoongi was doing in that moment. Was he writing on that notebook of his? 

You looked at the clear blue sky, imagining what it would be like if the boy you liked so much liked you back. . . . “Y/N” you heard your sister’s voice from behind your door. “Are you ready?”

“Not yet” you said, rummaging through your drawers, searching for the summer dress you were sure you had brought. Mr. Min had invited your family to have dinner at their house. You were nervous because you were going to see Yoongi, even though you had just seen him that morning. It had been two weeks since you both had started helping the Gong’s at their farm, and it had been a week since he stopped going out with the boys, Suni and you. He had always seen you with your short overalls - you had more than three pairs of them - so you wanted him to see you with something more… Girly. You weren’t even sure he would be there. 

Ugh, you’re daydreaming again. He’ll probably go out with the boys knowing you won’t be with them tonight. He’s really good at avoiding you. 

Mrs. Min opened the door for you with a big smile and the delicious smell of food filled your nostrils. Your mom complimented her about that and gave her the cake she had made. Your parents went to the living room and started talking about football and politics. Since the day they had gone to the Gong’s house to pick you and Yoongi up, they had became really close. Mrs. Min didn’t mention anything about Yoongi being at the house, and you suddenly felt stupid for dressing up. You hated dresses and you were wearing one. You were sure you seemed stupid. 

“Hi, I��m Baek” a tall boy with a gummy smile like Yoongi’s greeted you. He looked like Yoongi, but older. You didn’t remember he had a boyfriend, even thought you heard Suni mentioning it to you. 

“Hi, I’m Y/N.” you smiled, trying to hide how you were feeling inside. Why were you feeling like that? Yoongi didn’t even speak to you, why would he have dinner with you?

Your sister and her boyfriend greeted Baek and they were suddenly speaking about things you didn’t know. You felt out of place and alone, you felt alone. You wanted to go to your small cottage and cry like a lovesick teenager would do. But you had to keep your shit together, and you smiled and laughed at the silly comments Baek made.

“The dinner is ready.” Mrs. Min announced. You stood up from the couch you had been sitting, speaking with Baek and your sister and his boyfriend. Baek looked like Yoongi, but he was the opposite pole. “I’m going to call Yoongi.” she said then, leaving you breathless. You composed yourself as you took a seat at the table. He was there.

Your lungs ran out of air when you saw him enter in the living room, the same tired expression he had been carrying for the past few weeks on his face. He was wearing his usual black jeans and black t-shirt, but this time his hair was wet, as if he just had stepped out of the shower.

He greeted your parents and took a seat at the table, growling when his mother told him to seat next to you. You shifted on your chair, pulling your dress down your thighs. Should you greet him too or should you remain silent? You stubbornly opted for the second option. If he didn’t greet you, you wouldn’t greet him either. 

The air between you two was thick, the tension palpable. You both ate in silence while your parents laughed and joked about stupid things. Mrs. Min asked you about high school and what where you going to do after graduating. You politely answered and you heard Yoongi grunt next to you when you did. Your mom tried asking Yoongi too about what he was doing. He apparently worked at his father’s company. They had a few fields no far from the village and they sold what they cultivated. He answered, but he did it quickly and then turned silent again. 

Dinner ended and Yoongi excused himself to go to his room again. Yoongi’s parents said he was going through a rough time because he wasn’t happy at his dad’s company, but he didn’t want to go to university like his brother did and he was obsessed with the idea of becoming a producer. You though it suited him, but you were secretly angry with him for ignoring you all dinner, acting as if you weren’t even there. 

That was why you wanted to cry when his mother asked you if you could tell Yoongi you were going to eat the cake.

You climbed up the stairs slowly, fear running through your veins. When you were finally upstairs you could hear a soft noise coming from the door that was at the end of the large corridor. The Min’s house was bigger than you had imagined. You supposed it was Yoongi’s room, so you knocked softly on the door. You waited, but you got no response. The only sign that let you know that he was inside was the music getting slightly louder. You grunted and opened the door without thinking it twice.

Yoongi was lying on his bed, his eyes closed. You took the couple of seconds you had left until Yoongi caught you. The room was dark, as so where the clothes that were all over the floor. The walls were full of old Hip Hop posters, you were surprised he liked Snoop Dog, Lil Wayne, Jay Z, Nas… You loved Rock, but you loved Hip Hop too. The only light that illuminated softly the room coming from a set of lights that hang from the headboard. The room screamed Yoongi.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he said, finally opening his eyes and standing up from his bed.

“Your mom wants to know if you’re going to eat the cake with us” you said, hoping the darkness would hide your red cheeks. “I knocked on the door, but you didn’t answer.”

"You know, when someone ignores your knock on the door you should know they probably want you to fucking go away.” he said through gritted teeth. His room was such a temple for him, he didn’t even let his mother in. He felt like it was being invaded by you. 

“I guess you aren’t going to eat the fucking cake with us” you replied. Your words were filled with venom, specially the word “fucking” that he always used when he spoke to you.

“You guess right.” he told you with a devilish smile on his face. His eyes were burning yours. “Now if you don’t mind, get the fuck out of my room.” he said, repeating the word “fucking” just to tease you.

You thought about turning around and slamming the door so hard, all his stupid posters would fall to the floor. But something was eating you up inside and you needed to let it out. So just as you were going to walk away, you turned around to face Yoongi, your left hand holding the doorknob. 

“Why do you hate me so much?” you asked, immediately biting your tongue after the words left your mouth. You felt like you were humiliating yourself, but you needed to sort things out with him. You saw him frown, his black eyes not leaving yours even for a second. He really liked to torture you. “I mean, I’ve been nothing but nice with you since the day we met and you’ve been nothing but an asshole to me.”

You could swear you saw something crossing his eyes in that moment, but he quickly composed himself again. “I don’t know what you mean.” he shrugged. “I’m like this to everyone.”

“That’s a lie.” you said. You had nothing to lose at that point. “I’ve seen you speaking with Mr. and Mrs. Gong and you’re not like this. You’re actually… Bearable.”

He sighed. “I don’t hate you.” he said, making your eyes go wide. “What I hate is that you like me.”

Your breath got caught again. What had he just said? How did he know you liked him? Was it that obvious? No. Not even Suni had realised it till you asked her about Yoongi. But then again, he was looking at you like he was so sure of it. He maybe hated the fact that you liked - more and more as each day passed by - him, but you hated the fact that you liked - more and more as each day passed by - him.

“What? Woah, you’re so full of yourself. I don’t like you.” you said, trying to act as calm as possible.

“That’s a lie.” he said, repeating your previous words. “Don’t lie to me, Y/N, I’ve seen how you look at me.”

You growled. He couldn’t be serious. “I look at you because each time I’m with you I feel your eyes on me. And I look at you the same way I would look a turtle.”

“Okay, keep lying to yourself” he said, suddenly his previous anger disappearing.  He lied on his bed again and stared at you with that sided smile of his. “I just want to warn you. I’m not an asshole just to you. I’m an asshole to everyone because that’s the way I am. I am an asshole. Not because my life was harsh, because it wasn’t. I had a happy childhood, I was a happy child and everything. But as I grew up I turned into this.” he signalled himself. “I know why you like me. You think you’re the good girl that’s going to turn the bad boy into a good boy. But I’m not a bad boy, Y/N. I’m just Yoongi.”

Your mouth was shut and your lips formed a thin line. You didn’t say anything, even though you knew he was waiting you to do so. You felt humiliated and so embarrassed you wanted to cry, but you wouldn’t let yourself. Not in front of him.

“There’s nothing behind this.” he touched where his heart was supposed to be. “I’m just what you see, because on the inside I’m empty. That’s just the way I am, I was born like this. You’re not the first girl that feels that way about me. Get over it before you start to fall even deeper." 

"You sure are empty.” you finally said, letting all your anger roll through your tongue into those words. “But you’re empty and alone because you want to. And I surely don’t like you.” you turned around and stepped out of his room, slamming the door shut behind you. 

You hadn’t even been out of his room a couple of seconds when you heard the loud music again. He surely was an asshole. And you surely really liked him. But that had to stop, and you were going to make it stop one way or another.

//

Winter 2016

You are sure by now that the boy in the front of the bus is Yoongi. 

Your phone is still on your hand as your eyes are fixed on the back of his head, the boy you “liked” that Summer of 2006 unaware of your presence. You debate on standing up from your seat and saying hi to him. But it had been so long…

As the bus came to a stop, your mind drifted to that Summer ‘06 again.