#honestly feels like the downpour begins the minute I step outside

[cutpaperbleedswater]

ALL STEREOTYPES ABOUT BRITISH WEATHER ARE TRUE

[hollyannewrites]

Ditches

This is the beginning of a series I want to work on. Two guys, Benny and Liam, are figuring out friendship, relationships, and how to have a half-decent life. I'm going to do polls at the end of each chapter, so please vote and let me know where you think it should go next!

Benny’s phone rang once, twice, three times before he heard, and one more time before he dug it out of his pocket and answered. At this point in the night, there was not a single person in his life who should be awake, never mind calling him on the phone. The number that came up wasn’t in his phone.

“Hey Benny, it’s Liam,” came a hesitant voice, with a soft pattering sound like rain just behind it.

“Liam, hey. Did you need something?” Benny hadn’t actually spoken to Liam in a few weeks, mostly because he’d been pretty, and only a little because the last time they hung out had ended very awkwardly.

“Um…” his friend trailed off for a few seconds. “I could really use your help?” Liam spoke each word slowly and quietly.

Benny frowned. It was nearly 2 in the morning, and he was planning on going to bed in just a few minutes.

“Can it wait till morning?” He didn’t think he’d snapped, but the handful of silent seconds on the line were tense.

“I mean, not really? But it’s fine, it’s whatever, I can ask someone else,” Liam blurted.

“No, no, don’t call anyone else at this hour, Liam. What do you want?” he sighed.

“Would it be possible for you to—fuck hold on, gotta add a quarter.” There was a jingling and clinking sound, then he continued. “Would you be willing to pick me up from somewhere? I’m a little stuck out here.”

“Out where?”

“Uh, near a place called Paul’s Gasoline?”

“Where’s that?”

“Wish I knew, honestly.”

“Where’s your car?” Benny frowned into the phone.

“Wherever Kaya drove it, I guess,” Liam’s tone was acrid.

“And why can’t Kaya pick you up?”

“Well seeing as how she’s the one who left me here, I don’t think she’d be super willing to turn around and come back.”

“Wait, Kaya left you at a gas station in the middle of the night?”

“Nope.” He exhaled roughly. “She forced me out of the car on the side of the road like half a mile away and I walked to the gas station, which was the only thing out here that’s open. Well, was open. He just closed up.”

“Why would she—”

“Listen, Benny, I’m happy to explain, but I also only have one more quarter for this stupid pay phone, so can you help me out or not? I need to know if I should call someone else.”

Benny sighed, rubbing his temple. “Yeah, I’ll come and get you. I have to look the place up, is there anything else around to map to?”

“There’s a Kroger down the road a bit?”

“Great. Paul’s Gasoline near a Kroger. Sure. See you soon, I guess.” Benny ended the call before Liam could say anything else.

He quickly stepped into his boots, shrugged on a rain jacket, and pocketed his keys. His car was parked a little ways down the block, and his hair was dripping onto his forehead by the time he slid into the driver’s seat.

Google Maps told him that while there were four different gas stations called Paul’s Gasoline, only one was anywhere near a Kroger, and that one was nearly forty minutes away. He swore, then turned the keys. Only Liam would get stuck forty minutes outside of town in the middle of the night and then call him for help.

Part of him felt bad for Liam—it sounded, from his brief description of events, like he was having a rough night. The rest of him, though, was still not quite over what Liam had said to him last time they talked and didn’t really want to see him at the moment.

The drive was mostly dark, country roads, and he didn’t enjoy the stillness of it all, so he connected his aux cord and started playing some Fall Out Boy at top volume. The thrumming bass of the music drowned out any chance at having thoughts, so the long trip didn’t feel all that lengthy.

Pulling up to Paul’s Gasoline, he turned the keys in the ignition. He hopped out of the car into the torrential downpour.

“Liam? You getting in the car?”

From across the street, he caught a flash of movement, and turning to look, saw his friend shuffling over towards him. As he got close enough to be seen in the gleam of the headlights, Benny furrowed his brows.

Liam looked like shit. He was soaked through, dark curls plastered to his forehead, and his shirt and shorts clung to his skin as if he’d just gone swimming fully clothed. Skids of mud streaked his legs and arms, and a twig with leaves was nestled in his hair. Also, importantly, his eyes were rimmed with red—he’d been crying. Heavily.

“You look great,” Benny joked.

Liam just shrugged and shivered against the frigid rain.

“Why are you covered in mud?” he gestured at the mess.

“Walked around a little to warm up and fell into a ditch,” Liam mumbled, rubbing his arm awkwardly. “Do you want me to try to wipe it off before I get in?”

He considered the offer—after all, he didn’t want to have to get his car cleaned—but ultimately, he just wanted to go home as fast as possible.

“Just get in.”

Liam stumbled over to the passenger side and slid in, while Benny got the car started up. There was silence for a minute while he typed Liam’s address into Maps, and when he looked over, his friend was staring out the window, hugging his elbows and trembling.

He reached down and cranked the heat all the way up. They both needed it, he figured. Wet clothes and all.

“So Kaya made you get out of your own car?” Benny questioned as he pulled out of the gas station parking lot.

“Yeah.” The answer was short and clipped.

“How’d she pull that off?”

“She said to pull over and get out or she’d wrench the wheel and drive us into a tree,” Liam answered flatly.

Benny waited for him to laugh, to say he was joking, but he said nothing further.

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah.” Again, short and stiff.

“Why the hell would she do that?” Benny couldn’t imagine the energetic girl acting like that, not with her perky ponytail and the rhinestones on her fingernails. Kaya was emotional, sure, but not angry or vicious.

“I broke up with her.”

Benny jerked the wheel at that, before quickly correcting. He snuck a peak at Liam, who had both hands clenched around the seatbelt, knuckles white. His eyes were closed tightly.

“You ended things with her? I thought you two were talking about marriage?” The pair had been dating for a few years, and both had separately mentioned engagement at least a couple of times in the past months. They made a nice sight together, too. She was short, olive-toned, with pin-straight black hair and bright hazel eyes. He towered over her, all curls and dimples and soft body ideal for hugging.

A sardonic laugh from Liam. “We did talk about it. And then we didn’t.” When Benny didn’t jump in to fill the silence, he continued. “She was sleeping with Craig from down the hall. For almost a year now. He left his tie clip in our bathroom, a specially engraved one. I confronted her about it in the car and she said it was just for fun. It didn’t mean anything. Didn’t really change my feelings about it, so I told her I wanted to end things. And you can see exactly where that got me,” he sighed.

“Sorry to hear that,” he replied. And he was sorry, genuinely. Liam and Kaya had seemed happy to him. It wasn’t pleasant to think that a lot of that was a lie.

“It’s fine.” Liam shrugged. He was still staring out the window as the dark trees rolled past.

After a few minutes, Liam seemed to recognize the road they were on. “Are we headed back into town?”

“Yeah, I was taking you home. That’s where I mapped to.”

He winced. “Would it be possible to go to my parents’ instead?”

“It’s your apartment, Liam. She already forced you out of your own car, don’t make the same mistake with home.”

“I’m not. My keys are in the car, so I can’t actually get into my place.”

“You left your keys with her?”

“I left everything in the car. She was busy yelling, so I didn’t think to grab my stuff. Keys, phone, wallet—literally everything.”

“How’d you use a payphone without your wallet?”

“Begged the gas station attendant for money while he was closing. He gave me a handful of sticky quarters out of his pocket and told me to ‘git’.” He made air quotes with his fingers around the last word, tacking on a thick, rural accent to the word. “I appreciated it because it was either beg for quarters in the hopes someone would help me out or start walking and hope I hit the next town before sunrise.” Liam’s tone was light, trying to elicit a laugh, even, but the sour taste was just beneath the surface.

“Well, aren’t you lucky I picked up then?” Benny tried to joke along.

“Third time’s the charm, I guess.”

“Who else did you try to call?”

“Tried my mom and Curtis.”

“You tried to call Curtis before me?” Benny glanced at his friend, incredulous.

“Yeah. Thought he wouldn’t be super pissed about driving out here at night. He was drunk when he picked up though, so that didn’t go as planned.”

“Name a night of the week Curtis isn’t out having a few beers. He’s never a good choice to call for a pick-me-up.” Benny quipped.

“Yeah, realize that now. And Mom, for the record, was probably asleep, since she didn’t answer.”

“Well, I picked up, and I’m stupid enough to go out for a drive in this weather, so I guess it all worked out.” The car made a left onto a narrow, hilly road. “Also, if your mother’s not awake enough to answer the phone, she’s not going to hear the doorbell. You can crash at mine until the morning.”

He hadn’t meant to offer that, but the words left his mouth before he could stop himself.

[fictionalwhores]

Scarier than Drugs w/Rafe Cameron

Summary: You caught Rafe doing drugs again and an argument ensues

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of drug use, fighting and yelling, Rafe being Rafe honestly

A/N: I wrote this so long ago but here ya go :)

“Don’t walk away from me right now,” You let out a sound of frustration as Rafe walks past you in an attempt to cut the argument short. 

Rafe had done it again. He broke the promise he made to you at the beginning of your relationship and he didn’t seem to mind. The adrenaline of the drugs was coursing through his body (a feeling he had missed for the past 2 months when he claimed he would get clean for you… again) and he didn’t seem to care about how it affected you. All he seemed to care about was that he got caught. 

His feet were hard against the wooden stairs as he stormed down to the 1st floor of the house. Your feet quickly follow, yet still aren’t able to match the speed of the tall boy. You call out for him but he seems deaf to your words as he pushes the screen door open and steps onto the porch, his bare feet stepping into a puddle. 

“I’m trying to talk to you!” Your hand catches the screen door before it slams shut in your face and you step outside behind him, realizing only then that it had started raining. Rafe turns around to face you, 

“Look, I can do whatever the hell I want to do. You don’t control me.” Rafe speaks in a dangerously low tone, finger lifted in an accusing manner toward you, but you don’t back down. 

“I’m not trying to control you, Rafe,” You make eye contact with the boy and attempt to hold it, but he breaks it off after a second, not being able to face you properly, “I’m trying to help you keep your life together!” 

His tongue makes its way over his lips repeatedly as he steps back. The hair on his head has already shifted to a darker color, wet from the rain that seems to be increasing its downpour by the minute. He knows he messed up. He knows his life is slipping through his hands. It scares him. He’s on his way to not being able to turn back and it really really scares him. 

Rafe’s breath gets heavier as he runs his fingers through his hair, trying to keep it slicked back. Trying to keep his composure. Trying to push you away. 

“I didn’t ask for your help!” He yells and his composure breaks. He doesn’t understand why you’re so stubborn. Why you’ve stayed with him for this long through the countless times he’s broken you. He doesn’t get why you insist on helping him change and improve. He feels guilty that you’ve always stayed, even when he pushed you away. He hates it. 

He hates that you’re here, reminding him that he can do better. He hates how you’re getting soaked in the rain because you’re arguing with him. He hates that you’re wearing his shirt because you like the feeling of feeling small in his clothes. He hates the mascara running down your cheeks because you claim the waterproof makeup is stupid. He hates the bracelet on your wrist that he bought you two months ago because you wouldn't shut up about how cute it was and it was only $3 so of course, he couldn't not get it for you. He hates it. Rafe hates it because he loves you. And that’s far scarier than drugs. 

“I know you didn’t ask. But I’m your girlfriend and I want to help you.” Your voice is soft as you try to step forward to grab his hand but he retracts, down the porch steps and onto the muddy grass. 

“Why the fuck do you care what I do?!” He isn’t sure why he’s screaming. It's a contrast to your sweet nature and he knows it won’t help anything. Yelling at you was never the way to get his point across and he learned that early on in the relationship when he made you cry for the first time. But all the pent up energy has to be released somehow and he can't help himself.

“Because I care about you!” You step off the porch steps, reaching the grass and Rafe’s mind races. He doesn’t want to hear those words. Not from you. He’ll slip if he hears it from you. 

“I love you, Rafe.” The words leave your mouth before you can process them but you don’t take them back. You watch him and you think you did it. You think you’ve finally broken through his walls and that he’ll let you in. He’ll stop his cover and let you see the real him, wholly and completely.  But then he speaks one last time before he shut you out, 

“Then stop loving me.”

[xpeachesncream]

acquainted | thirteen

> series masterlist | series playlist <

summary: the biggest goal of a grad student is to get through school in one piece - no petty drama involved, no sweating over the little things. however, that plan almost always never follows through. sometimes, you can’t help but fall into the most unthinkable, unexpected traps and learn the hard way. like, exhibit a: being unable to resist your engaged, substitute teacher, kim seokjin.

pairing: jungkook x reader x engaged!teacher!seokjin

genre: grad school au, student life au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 3.0k

warnings: cussing/mature language, lots of crying, overthinking, insecurities, questioning feelings/thoughts, your bestfriends are your ride or dies!

notes: happy valentine’s day my loves! 💗

tags: @laurynne5 @yiyi4657 @miinoongi @teamtardis-notdead@bluesharksandfish@photographic-girl @yonkoghan @moonchild1​ @thebeebi​ @brightcolorsoffendme​ (pls msg me if you would like to be added to the taglist!)

Class comes by quick and you're dreading it. You're dreading it so much you consider skipping out. But, you don't; Simply because you don't want to show that this has defeated you. That Jin has gotten to the best of you. Although right now, you'd probably slap that shit out of him.

You stray clear from any spots you think Jin would find you at, parking at a completely different lot on the opposite end of campus. Jin also isn't in the best of moods, being that his parents came down for an unexpected visit just to give him an earful while getting ready to head to the office to prepare for another business review coming up. Not to add that Grace's mom texted him a very long, unfriendly message last night. He expected it, but he just didn't wanna deal. He sounded like a broken record telling everyone they just didn't work anymore, and that he wasn't going to force himself into something he didn't see himself in.

Yes, he's sorry for the way that he acted. Yes, he fucked up for not doing this the right way. Yes, he fucking gets it. Leave me the hell alone.

After all, all he wanted was you. And it killed him that you hadn't returned his calls, or answered his texts. He just wanted to hear if you were okay. He just wanted to see you and reassure you. Apologize for not owning up to your relationship, because it does matter to him. It's the one thing that truly does.

You walk into campus once your friends have texted that they've arrived. The four of you make your way into the classroom, your head hung low. The rest of the three greeted Jin just for common courtesy, but he knew he wasn't going to hear anything from you. He looked at you, noticed how tired and sad you had looked and his heart instantly broke. He wanted to hug you right then and there, kiss you. Let you know you two would be okay. If that was still something you even wanted.

Jin does his best to get through class, but he's not sure if he could do this anymore if this is how things were going to be. You barely looked at him. You didn't send any of those cute, small smiles his way. You didn't giggle. You didn't do anything besides stare at the paper beneath your hands and write.

When class ends, he waits to see if you'd say anything. You don't, even though you're still one of the last to leave. He watches as you hold onto your books tightly, Ryujin waiting for you to catch up at the door. It's not like you hated him or anything - you could never see yourself hating Seokjin. You could almost say you loved him, you had fallen in love with him. And that's what sucks the most because now what? What do you do with those feelings right now? After everything? God, you wanted him. But there were so many questions racing through your mind, the most important being if you were worth sticking around for. If he would actually be in this with you and stick around.

You and your friends head over to the library to get some work done, but you excuse yourself to buy a cup of hot chocolate and a snack at the campus coffee shop a bit of a walk away. There was a line, surprisingly, but it wasn't too bad and you ultimately decided this was worth waiting in line for. Once you had ordered and gotten your food, you stepped outside to take a sip & enjoy how good it felt to have hot cocoa on a cold evening. You begin to slowly walk back, the walk being a little dark and lonely being most students had already left campus for today.

"Y/N." You hear behind you. You know that voice all too well. You turn behind you to see Jin trying to catch up with you.

"Not doing this here." You say as you try to walk away, but he gently grabs your wrist and turns you around. It hadn't been long but you missed looking at his face this way. You missed his touch. You missed him.

"Can we please just talk for a minute?" He asks softly, letting you go before anyone sees.

"We don't have anything to talk about right now."

"Yes, we do." You shook your head.

"I don't wanna do this right now. Please, I just need some time."

"Y/N, I care about you a lot, you know that right?" You feel your tears welling up because you wanted so badly to just throw yourself on this man right now, and hug him tightly and tell him you love him. But, you just needed your space. You needed to give him space.

"Not now." Is all you say. "Look, we can talk when the time is right. Just not now."

"When is that going to be? I miss you." He says almost at a whisper. "You know it's you."

"Jin—" You say, shaking your head and placing a hand out in front of you before stepping backwards.

"Hey, did you grab what you needed? We have to go." You hear Taehyung say as he grabs your arm. You knew he was just pulling you out of the situation with a lie and honestly, you couldn't thank him enough because you weren't sure how else you could handle Jin right now. Not without breaking down.

"Yeah." Jin stares at both you and Taehyung. "I'm good."

"Cool." Taehyung swings his arm over your shoulder before turning on his heel to walk away with you. "Night Mr. Kim." He throws up the peace sign as he leads you back to the library.

"Thank you." You say, leaning into his body.

"No problem." Taehyung gently caresses your arm as you both walk back to the library. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just not ready to talk to him yet."

"Maybe you should at least hear what he has to say."

"I don't know, Tae." He shrugged.

"Look, things are kind of messy right now, but I have to say, he looks like he's still focused on you throughout this mess. I think that should at least mean something."

"I guess." Is all you can say. Taehyung doesn't say anything else as you approach Jimin and Ryujin. You and your friends stay until the library closes, getting a lot of work done together.

"You sure you don't need any of us to stay with you tonight?" Jimin asks before you all split ways to get to your cars.

"I'll be fine."

He nods silently. "Let us know if you need anything." Ryujin and Taehyung nod reassuringly behind him.

The ride home is quiet, besides the random downpour of rain that begins to fall as you near your apartment building. The rain was soothing to you, and all you wanted was to be in bed, listening to the rain pound against your window. As you start tidying up your apartment and getting ready for bed, your phone starts to vibrate on the bathroom counter.

Seokjin.

After tonight, you're still not sure why he's calling, but you're afraid something might have happened to him in this rain since the call ends, but another one comes through right after.

"Jin."

"Let me come see you. Hear me out, please." His voice slightly cracks. It sounds like he had been crying, or at the very least, trying really hard to keep his emotions in check. You feel terrible, and the last thing you want is for him to do anything irrational in this weather.

"Okay." Is all you say.

"I'll come pick you up in 20 minutes?"

"Sure." And the call ends. You're nervous and you feel your heart beating pretty quickly. You're not sure what to expect, or what to even say at this point. Is it even valid for you to feel upset for what happened? You weren't in Grace's shoes, nor did you end up getting the short end of the stick [besides the fact that Jin wasn't up front about your relationship]. You didn't really have a reason to be this way. However, you weren't sure where to go from here. You loved him, but how could you both just continue on like shit never went down? Like things are all fine and dandy when there's people angry and hurt? It seems like that would be fueling the fire even more. You both may never be able to rest. But part of you really wanted to keep being selfish, and you had no idea what exactly it was about this man that was making you like this. But, you wanted him in every way and it was frustrating. You just wanna tell people to leave you both the fuck alone and let it be.

He wants me, and I want him. So be it. I'm sorry.

You lazily throw on some clothes, hopping into matching grey sweats, grey hoodie and an added layer of a bomber jacket to go over it. He gets there a little earlier than the estimated 20 minutes in a hoodie, jacket and ripped jeans, his hair slightly dampened from the rain, making strands fall messily above his forehead.

God, this is unfair. Jin's duality is fucking crazy.

He simply looks at you before extending out his hand, asking for permission to hold yours before he drives off. You gently intertwine your fingers with his, his cold hands gripping tightly as he caresses the top of your hand with his thumb. The ride is quiet, and you find yourself overlooking the skyview of SF once again. He parks his car in the same spot he parked when he had asked you to come to LA with him, but he sits in his seat looking out quietly.

"What's on your mind?" You softly ask, breaking the silence.

"I miss you." He pauses while he tilts his head to look at you. "It hasn't even been long, but I miss you and I just want to be with you, Y/N."

"Do you really think this is a good idea? Us?" You turn in your position to fully face him. "Look at all the people that are hurt and angry at us. How can we just let it be?"

"I don't care. I really and truly do not care."

"Seokjin." You shake your head. "Don't say that."

"I don't. What else do you want me to say?" He shrugs. "The only person that matters to me is you."

"Your parents—"

"It's my life, they can't do anything about it." He sighs. "Y/N, what's going on?"

"I'm just scared. I— I know it's a little late for this but I'm scared. I don't wanna hurt anyone else, I don't wanna make anyone else upset." The tears began to pool against your bottom lid. "Jungkook—" He sharply turns to look at you once more. "Jungkook came to my house the other day and I felt terrible."

"He's not talking to me."

"See." You begin to cry. "I don't wanna ruin your relationship with him any further. He's your brother."

"He'll be fine."

"And how do you know that? How do you know things will be okay between the both of you? You had such a strong relationship with him. I shouldn't be getting in between."

"Stop." He says, gently wiping your tears from his seat. "He'll need some time but I know we'll be okay. Y/N, please just listen to me. I don't—" He sighs again before he looks down at his jeans. His head continues to hang low as he begins to speak softly, his voice slightly cracking. "I don't want you to throw us away because of everything that happened. That's the one thing I've been terrified about."

"Are you genuinely terrified of losing me, or of being alone?"

"What? How could you ask me that? Of course I'm terrified of losing you." Silence. "I love you, Y/N. I don't think you understand how deep my feelings run for you." You almost gasp at the statement, but you simply look at him. You only questioned how he felt because you were certain you had fallen in love with him. You were certain that you had gone past those boundaries and that you loved Seokjin. But you weren't sure if that was the case for him. He had never said it until this moment, even though he had beat around the bush, telling you how much you meant to him and how much he wanted to be with you. But he had never said he loved you until now. You were beginning to think you were just the excuse - the excuse to get out of a failed engagement. He lifts his head once again, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Please don't tell me I'm the only one who feels this way." You begin to cry a little more, seeing the look on his face when he says what he says.

"I think we should sleep this off." Is what you respond with, even though it's not what you actually want to say. You want to tell him yes, you love him too. Yes, you want to be with him. Yes, fuck everyone else.

But it's not that easy, for whatever reason.

He doesn't object though, he doesn't try and argue. He doesn't try to act all crazy and make you feel a certain way or say a certain thing. He just nods, even though he can't really look at you.

"Just know that I've meant everything that I've said up until this point. I love you so much, Y/N. It's insane how quickly I've fallen for you and what you do to me. I wouldn't want it any other way, and I don't want it if it's not with you." You look out the window, pursing your lips into a fine line to prevent yourself from loudly breaking down next to him. The tears won't stop coming down but you don't want to let him hear you. At this point, he doesn't say anything else as he starts up his car and begins to drive back to your place. His hand is resting on your thigh, gently caressing it up and down as if he knows you were silently crying in your seat. You couldn't get past the events that have transpired the past couple of days, and you just needed a breather.

Some time to be away, some time to be in peace. Some time to sit on your thoughts. Some time to just be.

You can't help but think about what things would be like if you and Jin continued on. You couldn't help it, that's just who you were. You'd imagine his parents looking down on you for messing with both of the siblings to a certain a extent. Jungkook ultimately just hating you for life. Jin's friends probably also questioning you.

The real question was whether or not your feelings for Jin would overcome that fear, that uncertainty, that anxiety. Even though you knew where you stood with him - was this really something you could get over? Was this something you could live on with? Knowing how you and Seokjin had come to be, hurting people along the way just to be selfish and be together.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Jin stops his car in front of your building, leaning over to turn his hazard lights on. The rain is pounding incredibly hard right at this moment, and you're torn between going back upstairs or going back home with Jin.

It's fucking annoying. Your thoughts.

"Come here." He says, gently tugging on your jacket. You turn to face him, the tears still streaming down your cheeks. He clicks his teeth as he wipes your tears away, hating the fact that he's seeing you hurt right now. He couldn't stand it. "You know I'm always gonna be here right? Whenever you're ready." You nod. He leans in to kiss you on the lips, his hand resting behind your head and fingers tangled in your hair. When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, keep his eyes locked on you before completely pulling back to let you go.

"I'll talk to you later, okay?" You say, almost at a whisper. He simply nods, watching you grab the door handle and dash into your building. You run upstairs and into your apartment, only to crash against the wall and cry out every emotion you were feeling.

"Y/N?" Jimin calls out softly, popping into your apartment after you had called him to come over. His jacket is soaking wet, and you feel terrible that he probably had to park a bit further from your building due to no guest spots being available at this time of night. He instantly drops his bag to the ground when he finds you curled up on the couch and wraps his arms around you. "What happened?"

"I don't know why this is so fucking difficult for me." You mumble into his chest. Honestly, Jimin knew the answer already. It was obvious that your feelings had gotten deeper than you had expected, you didn't have to tell Jimin that.

What was difficult was the fact that you hadn't been looking for love, nor were you trying to fall in love after Chance had passed. He knew the moment you did find something other than Chance, that's when things would get difficult. You had been longing for someone to touch you, to feel you, to want you, to care and love you, to bring about those feelings Chance once had brought. Seokjin might have been the closest thing to it and you didn't wanna let that go, not after you unexpectedly lost it the first time. No matter how much you tried to fight it off.

"Y/N." He says softly. "I think you fighting this off is just making it worse. You need to start being honest with yourself, no matter what that looks like."

"It's wrong, isn't it?" He shrugs.

"I mean, regardless of how it came about, I think what matters is how you feel about him and what he's starting to mean to you. Especially after all the shit you've been through with Chance's passing." He responds forwardly. "If you love him, then you do. There's really no hiding from it anymore. You both are here now."

[selfwriting-sugarquills]

Heat in the rain pt. 1

Description: Y/N lost a lot of things in the war, and when she’s forced to leave her childhood home she heads to the first place she can think of: The flat of Fred and George Weasley, so what if she hasn’t spoken to her best friends in months, if they can’t help her now, then what are friends for? 

Pairings: Eventual George Weasley x Reader

Warnings: Brief mentionings of death, injuries, eventual angst. 

Word count: 2104 

Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 final |  

(This is my first imagine for the Weasley twins, I hope you enjoy it, be sure to keep an eye out for the next chapter! xxx) 

George Weasley finished up closing the shop at about six o’clock pm on a Friday night. He ascended the stairs leading up to his and Fred’s apartment slowly, already loosening his tie, exhausted from another week of sales. He loved his business (which wasn’t hard to do, considering how well it was going) but he had to admit that it had been hard coming out on the other side of war only to waltz into a joke shop and sell people laughs for a living. This he’d never say out loud, not wanting to sound ungrateful, his job was, after all, a pretty easy one; he was literally living his dream. 

Opening the door to the apartment he stepped inside, stepped out of his shoes and shrug off his suit jacket. Walking into the kitchen he was met by his twin, who had gone upstairs ten minutes earlier, standing in the kitchen, and opened beer beside him as he was reading a letter, which he held in his right hand, whilst his left swung his wand lazily, making pots and pans fly around behind him, with a small flick of the wand, a knife floated towards a cutting board with vegetables on it, where it started chopping away. 

“Hey,” George said simply, as he went past the kitchen and into his bedroom on the right side of the apartment, hanging up his jacket in his closet and beginning to change into some more comfortable clothes as Fred yelled a ‘hi’ back at him from the kitchen, from where the unmistakable sound of fried garlic and onion was seeping into George’s bedroom. After pulling a sweater over his head, he stretched his neck, noticing how his muscles in his shoulders tensed in protest. He went into the kitchen and found himself a beer, feeling he deserved it as it was Friday and since he was exhausted. As he opened the bottle, Fred put down the parchment and picked his own bottle up and took a swig of it, still eyeing the letter. 

“Who’s that from?” George asked, sitting himself down on one of the barstools they’d put at the other side of the kitchen counter, 

“Mum,” Said Fred, “She’s asking us if we’re coming to spend Christmas at the Burrow,” He smiled, “As if we have any choice,” He added, chuckling a little, “Charlie apparently said he’d be there, so did Bill, Fleur and Percy, I wouldn’t be surprised if Ron and co. showed up as well either.” He said, George glanced at the parchment noting how much was written on it, there was a second page below it, “And she decided to ask us in every language or what?” He asked, nodding at the letter, Fred glanced down at it as well then broke out into a snicker, “No, the rest is her being way too worried about my leg, honestly, she’s acting as if it will just fall right off any second!” He said, George finished taking a sip from his bottle then asked: “How is your leg?” 

Fred spread out his arms a little and stepped away from the counter, “Well right now it’s going pretty great if I’m being honest,” He said, “Reckon I’ll be ready to get rid of the old walking stick by new year��s.” He picked up the walking stick, which had been leaning on the counter beside him, 

“You know, maybe mum’s right to be worried about you,” George began a little hesitantly, “You did go back to work really soon, and you’re not exactly one to take breaks once you’re working,” 

Fred’s smile broadened a little, “I appreciate the nurturing advice, mate, but you’re honestly beginning to sound like Hermione,” 

“All I’m saying is that it’s better that you take extra care now, so you won’t have to continue caring for the rest of your life, Fred,” George said, putting down his beer on the counter, “If you’d gotten out of that explosion with a twisted ankle then yeah, there would be no need to be cautious but if it hadn’t been for Percy pushing you out the way you would be lucky if you’d even had a leg by now-” 

Fred looked like he was about to say something, but was interrupted when a rapid knocking could be heard on the door, looking back at his twin, the two men stared at each other, as if trying to figure out if the other had invited guests without telling the other, when neither of them explained they looked back to the door, where another set of hard knocks could be heard. 

*** 

You’d gone to the first place that came to mind, walking hastily through the thick downpour, you’d headed down Diagon Alley, bee-lining towards the unmistakable facade of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. 

You had had the longest week imaginable, no, the longest five months. You’d lost your parents in the war, strike one, then you’d nearly gotten yourself recklessly killed in the battle of Hogwarts, spent two weeks recovering in st. Mungo’s where you’d done nothing more than mourn the loss of the classmates and friends you’d lost, strike two, then your best friends had slowly but surely drifted away from you, the twins who used to be inseparable from you had first gone days, then weeks, then months without even writing to you, and you, being buried in paperwork after the death of your parents had been to busy to try and contact them, strike three. And so it had continued, another horrible thing after another came raining down upon you, and now, what seemed like strike one thousand had hit you, you’d been booted from your childhood home, not that you’d expected to be able to keep it, as you had no job and little to no inheritance from your parents, but when you’d been given the two week notice you’d panicked, you’d taken all your most important belongings, contacted the ministry and told them they were free to sell the rest and bolted. 

Was it a rational thing to do? No, but it had been a very long time since you’d been rational. Perhaps it was just because you were already swimming in a pool of self-loathing but the extreme rain that had hit you as you’d excited your, now former, home had felt like a teeny tiny strike one-thousand-and-one. So naturally, you were about as exhausted as a human could be when you reached the shop belonging to the two redheaded twins. You stopped outside the door leading up to the apartment. A small pang of uncertainty hit you; what exactly were you doing? You hadn’t spoken to either of them in what seemed like forever, maybe there was a reason for that? maybe they didn’t want to see you? Your hand, which had been outstretched towards the green door handle, fell to your side as a feeling of foolishness washed over you, rain trickled down your cheeks and nose as you stood in the darkness, unsure if you ever wanted to go inside, then a lightning struck down only twenty or so metres down the street from you, followed by a deafening bang. You shrieked in shock and quickly entered the hallway, bolting up the stairs in a cascade of murmured ‘nope’s. Screw if you hadn’t seen the twins in months, they had been your best friends since your fourth year and you needed their help, whether they knew it or not. 

“besides,” You murmured to yourself as you reached the top of the stairs and stood outside the front door, “What kind of best friends don’t even write to ask how you are after your parents die?” 

*** 

Fred and George approached the door with a sliver of uncertainty in their step, 

“Who on earth comes knocking uninvited?” Fred asked in a low voice, beer still in his hand, 

“Maybe it’s someone trying to break in?” 

“Nonsense, why would a thief try to knock on the door before breaking in?” 

“I read it in one of those articles mum send us, y’know, the one with the ten handy things to know about home security when you’re a first time owner?” 

“Seriously, George, I’m starting to worry that you and Hermione may have switched bodies accidentally.” 

And with that, Fred unlocked the door and swung it open, revealing an absolutely drenched Y/n. Blinking, the twins stared at their old friend without saying anything for a while. Y/n, too scared of how the twins might react, refrained from saying anything either, 

“Y/n,” George started, his mouth slightly ajar in shock, “You look absolutely,”

“Frozen!” Fred finished his brother’s sentence and opened the door a bit more, 

“Come in before you flood the stairway,” he said. 

“Thanks,” Y/n said, stepping inside, dripping, “sorry,” she added, when she looked at the drops hitting the floor. Arms crossed, she stood there in the entrance, shivering and looking on the verge of tears, George felt a surge of empathy fill his insides, and as he caught his twin’s eyes he knew Fred felt the same, 

“You just wait here a moment,” Fred said, placing a hand on your shoulder, “I’ll get you a towel.” He gave your shoulder a quick squeeze before he disappeared further into the flat. There was a small moment of silence between you and George, 

“It’s uh- really good to see you,” George uttered finally, shifting his weight, “It’s been,” He haltered as he counted in his mind, embarrassed when he couldn’t place the last time he’d seen you face to face, 

“Five months?” You said, teeth clappering, you couldn’t help but crack a small smile when his eyes widened but he didn’t get to say anymore because Fred returned, handing you a small towel, he stepped behind you and wrapped a larger towel around your shoulders, 

“What are you doing here at this hour?” Fred asked, rubbing your arms to warm you up, the comforting touch from your best friend and thinking about your past few months you started to well up, and before you knew it you were bawling, explaining in between sobs about everything that had happened to you, the twins had shared a worried look as you broke into tears and had quickly moved to sit you down on their couch, 

“Ah-and n-now I have no home, no jo-ob and no parents!” You sobbed, hiding your face with one hand, using the other hand to hold onto the towel, 

“And my best-f-friends won’t even write to me anymo-mo-more!” You added, letting out another sob, Fred and George shared a rather guilty look, 

“We’re really sorry Y/n,” George said, as you continued to cry, tucking a strand of wet hair behind your ear before placing his hand on your shoulder, Fred copied him: “Yeah, we’ve been a pair of right foul gits,” He said, something in his chest twisted uncomfortably as you didn’t answer, just made a small sound as you nodded, still hiding your face in your hand, 

“But I promise that we didn’t think about it, we would’ve written to you, but it’s been so busy since we re-opened,” Fred tried, 

“That’s n-not an excuse,” You said, wiping your face and meeting his chocolate coloured eyes, he took your hand, “I know that,” he said, you looked down, there was no point being angry, 

“I know.” 

Silence filled the flat, only the sound of rain hitting the windows and your sniffles could be heard. 

“Listen, I’m really sorry to be bursting like this,” You started, 

“Don’t worry about it,” George cut you off, “We’d much rather you burst in here, than stay out in the pouring rain, right Fred?” He said, looking at his twin, who nodded, “Absolutely, besides, letting you crash here is the least we can do, seeing as we’ve accidentally abandoned you,” He chuckled a little, and his laugh was contagious as always, you smiled a little, 

“You don’t have any clothes I could borrow, do you?” you asked, “My clothes are still sort of,” You paused, “Wet.” You chuckled, Fred and George both grinned, “Say no more,” Fred said, standing up, George following suit, “Wait here!” George said before they both scattered into their rooms to find you some clothes to wear, picking out their warmest sweaters and softest sweatpants, whilst you sat there in their warm flat, the smell of food enrobing you, you noticed. Smiling to yourself, you thought to yourself how easy it was to talk to the twins even after months of silence. 

[nootgi]

Spotlight

MLQC Victor

MC deals with the drag of life and tries to face her emotions. Will she accept the hand that reaches out to her or push them away like she always does.

A/N: HHH victor is my biggest comfort character so it feels right to get back into writing with him. Also one of my favourite fic tags hurt/comfort! I hope you enjoy it ^-^ 

Word count: 4478

There was a white light shining above me and the brightness pried my eyes open. When my eyes finally adjusted I was standing, surrounded by darkness. All there was, was a bright spotlight. 

I tried moving my body but it felt like lead, stuck in its place no matter how much I struggled. My mouth was too dry to cry out, the only thing that seemed to respond was my eyes. They bounced around, trying their best to understand but there was nothing in the dark abyss. A small whimper slipped out of my throat and suddenly the shadows began to move. 

One by one, eyes started to appear, all so familiar yet so cold. All the warmth was taken from them but the piercing one of them all were those ruthless purple eyes. They were so sharp as if cutting into my soul and laying my faults out to bare, so calculating as they judged me. Desperately I tried to defend myself but nothing came out except pathetic sobs, my face stung in the cold void from the downpour of tears. 

In the middle of a sea of darkness, eyes judged me as I lost myself. 

My eyes snapped open and I found myself in my apartment. My body shivered from the cold sweat mixed the draft from the open window beside my desk. It seems I fell asleep whilst working on Victor's proposal…

Victor… What was that dream? My brows furrowed as I tried to remember the dream but the more I tried, the more it broke apart. All I remember was the cold. My deep thoughts were disrupted by my phone alarm ringing, when I turned off it's obnoxious beeping, it set in that it was Monday. The start of a new week, the bright beginning! To shed the dead weight of last week and get to it!! The sheer thought of putting on that mask made me groan. The past week has been draining to say the least, Kiro's behind the scenes set was swarmed with fans, leading to extra security detail to be reviewed and approved. Then Reek messed up a sponsorship deal which meant the whole episode had to be re-filmed but since it was such short notice some guests couldn't attend. That in turn caused some public backlash which caused many late nights of apology to passionate fans. With so much on my plate, I couldn't help but look eagerly towards the weekend already. Just 5 days, that's just 120 hours. 

I put on my shiba slippers and walked towards the bathroom, able to take it slow this morning since it was a late start. When my light flickered on, I glanced up into the mirror to catch my reflection for a second before looking away. If you look too closely every flaw will bloom. I brush my teeth, staring at the tap like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Probably was in this apartment honestly. Once my bathroom routine was finished, I started to prepare breakfast when my phone rang again for the second time. 

"Anna? What's up?" I answered with a yawn, looking at the calendar hung on the wall. 

"Have you forgotten!? Today's presentation day!!" I gasped as I saw the red circle and arrows all point to this day. 

"It slipped my mind! I'm coming as fast as possible so please hold them off!!" My words tumbled out as I stopped all my breakfast preparations, throwing on my clothes and heels. Anna gave me a 30 minute window as a maximum. Once I got my files together, I sprinted out of the apartment. Mowing over my landlady who grumbled about running in hallways. I couldn't stop, this was too important. 

'You can't even remember something so important as this? You really are pathetic.' 

No time to address my thoughts, I reach the LFG building in record time. In front Anna stood there with a coffee and a grim smile. I took the coffee out of her hand, chugging it down, not knowing when my next break was. We walked quickly across the lobby as Anna filled me in on who was attending this talk. Ever since the company took off, more and more investors have begun to take an interest. If this talk goes well, we can begin to take on bigger and better productions… create a company dad would be proud of. Just the thought of it made my heart leap. 

When we stopped in front of the boardroom, Anna turned to me with a frown. She began to fuss over my hair, my skirt and the messily tucked shirt. I try to bat her hands away, not wanting to keep them waiting when a dark shadow looms over the two of us. I turn around quickly, getting immediately absorbed by sharp purple orbs. Victor. Just as I was about to speak, a sharp pricked my heart and cut my words short. There was something building up in my chest, like a string being wound up so tightly. 

"You're late." He says bluntly, it feels like he's speaking down at me…

"Sorry, just slipped my mind." My words left me before I could stop them, Anna looked over at me with her eyes wide. 

"If this kind of talk 'slips your mind' maybe you shouldn't be here at all." He doesn't pull any punches, huh? Brushing past the two of us to enter the room. Anna reaches out to pat my shoulder but I turn around with a practiced smile. 

"Let's do our best!" She nods reluctantly and enters the room. I take a few moments to relax my clenched fists and push down the emotion blooming in my chest. This is business, nothing more. Once again that mask slips on and the talks begin. 

After a long 5 hours, the end is finally called allowing me and Anna to collapse into our desk chairs. Both groaning at the ache in our feet and relief that the end is in sight. All that's left is the investors to speak amongst themselves and begin preparations should they choose to back us. 

"I need to go pee!" Anna blurts out weirdly, standing up instantly. I look at her questioningly, watching her back as she sprints off to the toilet. Guess she really needed to pee..? Thinking I was alone I let myself sink back into my thoughts. In my mind the talk replayed over and over, every little mistake stuck out. The long pauses between a question and answer, words and numbers blending into one and worst of all my voice cracking. Slowly the small regrets spiral into a kaleidoscope of my worst moments. All the shame and embarrassment caused the red in my cheeks to burn and my eyes glaze over. 

'How could someone like you ever make him proud?' Those words slip venom into my thoughts as the bright office lights are dimmed by the shadows growing. Suddenly the space around me changes and again I feel piercing eyes surround me. They're judging me. Who wouldn't? My skirt is short, my shirt is wrinkled and my hair is hardly in the ponytail anymore. The chances of getting the investment seemed bleaker, the tension in my chest grew more insistent. I tried to ground myself, digging my nails into my palms and looked around to distract myself. 

Just a few more hours and the fragile mask can be put to rest for today. 

"Earth to dummy?" Fingers snap in front of my face and I'm dragged back into the bright office light. Victor was standing beside me, a frown etched into his usual poker face. 

"Yes? Sorry." I look back down instantly, trying to avoid his eyes. My hands began to fidget causing me to hide them under my thighs. 

"Are you okay? You don't seem… like your usual self." He pauses, thinking of a way to phrase his sentence. When my mouth opens to respond my mind is conflicted between two responses. The truth or the usual lie… what good would come from the truth? 

"Nothing, just monday blues." I shoot him a tired smile, as his mouth opens to press on further Goldman returns to call us back to the room. Anna arrives at the same time and immediately we're swept back into the business talk. 

… In the end… WE GOT THE FUNDING! Me and Anna screamed at each other as soon as we stepped outside of LFG. Passerbys looked at us oddly but we couldn't bring ourselves to care. This was definitely the push our company needed to grow. We rush back to the office to tell the team the great news. Willow, Kiki and Minor upon hearing the great news suggest a night out. A round of drinks to toast to our future. Feeling the adrenaline from this morning leave my body, I pass on the celebration but promise to treat them all to lunch one day. The company closed early, the spirits bright, warm and lifted. You couldn't tell it was monday. 

So why is it that I feel so hollow? 

As I leave the building with the gang, Anna pulls me aside. 

"Just know I'm here for you." Those simple words gave a prick of warmth, my smile is just a ghost by this point. I just nod, fearing if I speak that knot in my throat would snap. I waved them all off and began my walk home. The crisp autumn wind kept my lonely self company, dancing around my body and trying to enter the warmth of my clothes. 

There was nothing to occupy my thoughts other than the crunch of the leaves under my boots. Anna's words and Anna's warm smile replayed in my mind, chipping away at my resolve built out of ice. I want to reach out, I want to talk but every time I cry out I'm silenced. Why should my darkness taint their light? Why must I burden them with nothing? There was swell of emotions that caused my footsteps to increase till I began full sprinting down the street. My lungs and legs burned as I collapsed inside my apartment. 

The mask finally shattered and the ugly emotions bubbled out of my chest. Sobs wracked my body and my arms wrapped around myself. 

On my cold apartment floor, I cried myself to sleep. 

There was a knock at my door, breaking my sleep at the very first rasp. My body was stiff from the floor and my eyes felt puffy. Rubbing my eyes a little aggressively, I open the door and see a delivery driver. I tilt my head confused as he leaves a bag in my hand, leaving without payment. I locked up my door once again, putting the bag down in the kitchen to retrieve my phone. It was 11pm. There were a few drunken texts from Minor and pictures from the girls updating on their night out. I laughed fondly at the picture of Minor with his ass stuck in a bush when Victor's face flashes on the screen. He's calling me. My mind blanks as I let the phone ring, once the call drops I let out a sigh of relief. 

With that the days blended into one repetitive cycle, each moment becoming more taxing than the next. It was always paperwork, meetings, filming and then home. My only relief is the click of my front door locking. I settled down at my desk with some cup ramen and began my work again. This is the quarterly report for Victor, it had to be perfect. Otherwise- I don't think I could handle his critique. If you could even call it that… more like an emperor looking a gladiator in the eyes as he puts his thumb down, sentencing the poor soul to death. I laugh slightly at the thought of Emperor Victor, he is a good leader, confident and smart. Yet compassionate and looks out for the little guys. I don't think there is a thing in the world that can shake Victor. He's so perfect, you forget that he is only human. 'Stupid perfect Victor and his perfectly perfect hair and his handsome face.' I grumbled to myself, finishing my dinner and getting back to work. 

When I put my empty cup ramen down, the heavy weight of the fork inside knocks it down onto the floor. The clattering sound echoes around the apartment, serving as a reminder that I'm alone. I groan and get up to clean when I finally take notice of my room. Clothes, fresh or used, thrown across the room, my snacking habits revealed from the countless chip packets, cup ramen and chocolate wrappers. When did my room get like this? When I turn to my desk I see the building pile of used dishes from weeks ago, there was even dust beginning to collect on them. I should clean… 

Finding no motivation to clean, my productive flow was cut off for today. No matter where I looked, there was some sort of reminder of my failures. That feeling in my chest had started to build again so I climbed into bed. Surrounding myself in the only warmth I could accept, I laid there tracing patterns onto the duvet mindlessly. Time ticked away as the warm glow of the evening diminished into darkness. I didn't even move from the bed to turn the light on, the darkness far more comforting. In all that time the only thought through my head was: I'm lonely. 

It was my own fault really, I push everyone away the second I feel bad. I'm too busy drowning in my own pity that I can't help people that need help more. I'm disgusting. Pathetic even. Crying over something I caused myself, over something that could be so easily solved! Even when that painfully obvious truth was there my heart remained shut, not letting in the people most dear to me. 

Another memory began to play in my mind. Stood in my teacher's office. My head was bowed, my eyes focused on the fidgeting of my fingers, as he scolded me over crying about his harsh feed. 'This is life!' and 'Stop being so fragile!' played in my mind. You shouldn't be here. Victor! My gasp slips out as I realise that I'm sobbing, my pillow drenched. I sat up, trying to supress my loud sobs and held my hand against my heart that felt like it was beating out my chest. Stop- Stop, Stop! I begged myself to calm down, feeling that I was losing control on the emotions I reigned in so tightly. 

That night, I cried alone in the darkness of my apartment. Begging for anyone to save me.

After that night I decided to take a sick day, feeling unready to feel the world's cold embrace. Anna had offered to present the report to Victor but I rejected it saying that I could still do it. I picked up my phone, opening my contacts and almost dropped it at the amount of missed calls from Victor. Had I been avoiding him that much? I clicked on his chat to see his messages, all seemingly concerned but who wouldn't worry over their 'investments'? If to borrow a few words from Victor. I was about to click off till Victor's face popped up as a call. Out of habit I picked up instantly, my body responding slowly to my mind screaming no. As I scolded myself mentally, I heard from the CEO after almost 2 weeks. 

"Hello? Are you there?" There was some traffic in the background, he must have been just walking into the office. 

"...Yes-! Hello Sir!" Great response said no-one.

"Sir? I thought I told you to call me Victor. Anyway I decided to call since I've been notified that a certain little idiot is sick." He heard already? I only told Anna… 

"Y-yeah, really sick- You shouldn't worry though!! Only a small hiccup, should be back on my feet tomorrow." I wave my hands around even though he can't see me. There was a pause only hearing the ding of an elevator. 

"I hope it is, business doesn't stop for anyone but… If you need anything at all, just- call me." The way he spoke so tenderly at the end caused my knees to shake and my eyes to well up again. It's there! The hand that I could reach out to…

"Thank you Victor, goodbye." My voice threatened to break as the knot started to tighten again. I couldn't possibly drag him into this mess, drag him into me. The well of tears remained on the edge, threatening to spill as Victor bid his farewell too. I knew there was more he wanted to say but he also knew I didn't want to hear more. When the phone call ended, I dropped back down into my bed and stared up towards the ceiling. What shall I do today? 

The apartment felt too stuffy for me so I decided to take a walk, my legs carried me to the park. Despite it being autumn there were still children running around, jumping into piles of orange leaves or the old man that fed the bird by the fountain. I walked towards the fountain, taking a seat a few spaces away from the man. I had accidentally spooked some of the birds but they settled back down. I had apologised to the man but he laughed and shook his head. 

"You were more cautious of these birds than any busy body in this city." He says gesturing to the few people that sprinted through the park, holding briefcases or speaking rapidly into their phones. That would've been me too… 

"I would've been them on any other day." I force a sad laugh and look up to the sky.

"That's the problem with you young uns, always pushing yerselves too hard. Though I cannot pass judgement, I was the same back in my hay days!" When I finally look back at him, he keeps his eyes trained on the birds he feeds. 

"How did you… escape it?" Was there a way to get out without hurting anyone around me, without burdening them?

"The answer is so simple my dear, find your warm place." My warm place? Where could that be? My eyes catch a scene of a father holding his daughter tightly in his arms as she cries over her scratched knee. My eyes widen as I watch him tickle her, raising her high above his head to bring back the smile on his daughter's face. The man watches with me, his eyes holding the same nostalgia that rings in my heart. 

"And… If your warm space is gone? Then what?" 

"They never leave you. Just as a river never flows the same forever, you can find comfort from elsewhere but that doesn't change the memories of the past. The path it has carved remains." It was true that my father was the only one I could confide in with my emotions. He read me like an open book at times. I used to think it was because dad had a superpower but he always told me 'If I didn't know what my princess was thinking what kind of papa would I be!' Is there anybody that I could trust like that? 

"If you don't mind my asking, what is your warm space?" I turn to the old man and see he's already gone, the birds around still remain undisturbed. I guess that's my time at the park, done. I got up, deciding to stop by convenience store to get some more snacks. What could my space be?

Just like that another month flashes by and the final contracts have been signed. Miracle Finder has gained another 2 investors through LFG. In order to celebrate, Victor had arranged a party to be held. I say party- it was more of a formal ball! When I asked Victor about it he just said his typical response 'This is a networking event, whilst it might be to celebrate the company I hope you don't grow complacent.' UGH! Stupid Victor!! I screamed in my head as I entered the main hall and was instantly submerged into the high class society. The long night of fake smiles had just begun and my mood was just not there. However it felt nice to see my late night studying of the guestlist was paying off. The whole time at the party I felt his eyes on me but he never once approached me. Every time I couldn't look back at them. 

The night was going well but my feeling of dread continued to grow and grow. Not being able to shake it off, my discomfort was apparent enough for Mr Kim to point it out. 

"Are the old men scaring you Miss." He laughs, the group joining in on the laughter. I try to force a laugh, sounding more like a cry for help, I shake my hand. 

"No no! It's not like tha-" I get cut off as the group bursted into laughter and just like that my dream flashes in front of my eyes. The chandelier that hung above us feeling like the spotlight, the men's loud laughter attracting the prying eyes of everyone around. People began to whisper and hiding their smiles behind their hands. They're laughing at me. I bow trying to excuse myself but Mr Kim reaches for my hands. In panic I slapped them away and ran off and I failed to notice the pair of sharp violet filling with rage. 

Cold winter air bit at my cheeks as they glowed red and cooled the warm tears staining them. My mind conjuring up the worst scenarios, adding more straws to the camel's back. I need to regain control- I can't show weakness! If I can't handle this, I'm not worthy for the company. What would dad say? Would he wipe away your tears or try to fight those men. My laughter escapes me when I think of my Dad. 

"Laughing and crying? If anyone saw you they'd think you're insane." That deep voice rang out from the balcony door. I turn around and see Victor walk towards me, his suit jacket hung in his arms. Those words had a teasing tone but his face was tense, jaw clenched and brows furrowed. Without thinking I meet Victor half way, reaching up to soothe his eyebrows. Despite his shock he leaned into my touch, face slowly relaxing into the usual poker face. Even this close I couldn't look him in the eyes. I could feel his search my eyes but I kept mine trained on his tie. With a sigh he takes a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe my eyes softly, the soft material soothing the rough skin. 

"Dummy." Those words caused my dam to burst as I fell into Victor's embrace, crying. He said nothing, holding me tightly till I tired myself out. 

That night I cried in his warm embrace, that protected me from the cold winter's night. 

When my eyes opened I was still on the balcony, laying on the bench covered by Victor's suit jacket. My head was resting on his lap as he looked out at the night view. Still in a tired daze I stare up at his face. The city lights created an orange glow that caressed his face and defined every single one of his perfect features. My eyes trail up his face from his lips to his nose and when they finally reach his eyes, he's looking back. With a gasp I sit up.

"Finally awake? I wasn't expecting you to snore so much." He says, a slight quirk to his lips. 

"I do not snore!" I gasped and hit his shoulder lightly till I realized what I did. When I was going to apologise he rubs where I hit him and frowns. 

"Someone's getting bold lately." His tone was serious but his eyes were nothing but playful. It caused a genuine laugh to bubble out and my cheeks puffed as my smile was pulled widely. When my laughter died down, I realised I was looking Victor in his eyes. Were they his eyes? Instead of the sharp purple blades they were like a soft vortex, swirling with stars and emotion. My words were stolen as I got lost in his galaxy.

"Looking into eyes now?" His voice was soft, practically a whisper but it was the only sound in the frozen night. 

"I- I was so scared." I admit to him. Victor reaches to tuck my hair behind my ears, the simple gesture causing my heart to race. 

"You don't need to fear me. I'm here for you." Those words again, the hand is there again. Tentatively I stretch my arm, placing my hand in his warm palms. In his hands I place my trust. A river never flows the same forever. 

There was a white light shining above me and the brightness pried my eyes open. When my eyes finally adjusted I was standing, surrounded by darkness. But this time was different. In darkness shined a pair of purple eyes, they drew closer to me. My eyes tightened shut as he entered the spotlight. I was terrified, I didn't want to fall again. He wiped the tears that poured down my face and whispered into my ears. 

"Open your eyes." I trusted him. I opened my eyes and the eyes that were cold were illuminated with light. The eyes turned into familiar faces, filled with warmth. 

Anna stood there with a supportive smile. Willow, Kiki and Minor were grinning from ear to ear. It was like a fog being lifted from my mind, I saw everything with new clarity. There was still darkness but never once was I alone. He was always by my side. My eyes snapped open as my phone began to ring. 

Ah! I must've fallen asleep whilst watching TV! I picked up my phone and it was a call from Anna.

"Boss! I sure hope you're ready for the storm coming…" In the background I heard Kiki whine at the comment and Minor cheer excitedly.

"I'm more than ready." I laugh, looking at my cleaned up apartment, not a stray sock or wrapper in sight. Food was cooking in the oven for the home party. The sun shone through the open curtains, its rays falling onto a photo of my father. Beside that was the matching shiba cups I had gotten with Victor.

Everyone faces their own demons, but that doesn't mean you should do it alone. I learnt that the hand wasn't to drag me out of the abyss but to connect our lights and face the dark together. 

[nobodyfamousposts]

I dare you to give that "Adrien accidentally slips out that he knows" a happy ending. But... Only after years of suffering for Adrien and the class. I've never read one of those salty fics with years of consequences, usually it is solved very quickly. Like, they could all met again bc they go the same uni and on their first year they get the chance to make up for Marinette for their fuck up. Can you do that, give them a happy ending? Can you can you? I DARE YOU ANGST QUEEN THIS IS A CHALLENGE

A challenge you say?

Very well.

Lila has been outed. Her manipulations revealed. Not only to the class but the administration as well. She’s removed from the class and sent to alternative placement due to truancy and delinquency, as well as remedial classes. With Lila gone, it’s expected for that to be the end of it. The rest of the class nods to each other, says she deserved it, and figured that now things can get better.

Things don’t get better.

The class is still angry. Adrien is a target of that anger. No one bullies him—not technically. But he is persona non grata in the class. Nobody actively hurts him, but no one will talk to him. Even Nino. No one will interact with him with the sole exception of Chloe. She does her best to defend him and act as a buffer, but it doesn’t help. Honestly, Adrien feels being ignored hurts worse than if the class actively bullied him.

He manages a couple more months before he can’t take it anymore. He stops coming and goes back to home schooling. If he’ll be lonely regardless, it’d be better if he was actually lonely alone. The rest of the class nods to each other, says it’ll be better with him gone, and figured things can get better.

Things don’t get better.

Chloe is outraged. Whatever progress she’s made is undone and she regresses to full bullying mode. She makes a daily habit of throwing out cruel words and sharp barbs that reduce people to tears and have her sent to the Principal’s office with little repercussion. Eventually, she has enough and joins Adrien in home schooling so he won’t be alone. The rest of the class heaves giant sighs of relief, thank the heavens she’s gone, and figure that now things can get better.

Things don’t get better.

It’d be inaccurate to say that Marinette was the “heart of the class” or the “glue” that kept everyone together, but she did play a big part in it. None of them had been particularly close originally, after all. They stuck to smaller cliques and did nothing to defend each other from Chloe or other bullies. And this usually meant Marinette got the brunt of it—she hated the first day of school for a reason, after all. When she finally stood up for herself, she helped to encourage the rest of them to as well. Slowly they started to open up and become friends as a whole.

But being lied to and manipulated has made them wary of others. As has losing a good friend. After everything, the class members subconsciously start to withdraw into themselves. They don’t interact as a big group anymore. Maybe they’ll hang out in twos or threes, but like Chloe, they reverted to their original states of limited friendships and limited interactions outside of those friendships.

Any attempts to talk to Marinette fail. They can’t reach her by phone. They don’t know where she’s going to school now. Talking to her parents gets them nowhere. They have no way of knowing how to even begin to find her.

They don’t get to apologize or make things right.

Nino and Alya break up. Nino tried to support Alya, but leaving Adrien like that did hurt him just as realizing what she lost with Marinette had hurt her. And despite how much time had passed, Alya was still SO ANGRY about it. It was negative and unhealthy, with more fighting and less ability to actually enjoy being together. For all that they may have wanted to, they weren’t able to really support each other the way they needed. Ultimately, they just couldn’t keep the relationship going. They sit on opposite sides of the class now, with Nino burying himself in his music and Alya almost obsessing solely over the Ladybug and her dedication to truth.

Things…don’t get better. Any new students to the class quickly request to leave. The next year, they are all separated into new classes with maybe only two of them in the same class at once, and the tension is at least slightly relieved. But they remain distant from others, still feeling the pain of the previous lies they fell for and either unwilling or unable to trust anyone.

Nino dates Mireille for a short time. It doesn’t work out. It hurts, because he still feels like a failure whether as a friend or as a boyfriend, that regardless of what he does, he can’t be what anyone needs.

Alya dates no one. Dating and romance get in the way and distract her from the truth. It hurts, because she still blames her relationship with Nino for causing her to so readily push her best friend to the back as she did.

Adrien dates a lot of people. It’s never confirmed if they were arranged relationships or not. Adrien never seems to care. Not about the relationships or the people he’s supposed to be involved with. He becomes known as a heartbreaker, and a number of akumas were created due to him.

He loses a lot of what made him bright. The “Sunshine Child” is more of a “Downpour” and his modeling ends up reflecting that. This actually helps the company, as people love the emo boy image. It does cause a number of other models and workers to be concerned about him, though.

Chat Noir is different. Sadder. More despondent. Joking less. Not flirting at all. If it wasn’t for Ladybug encouraging him, he probably would have quit altogether. She becomes the only good thing he has left and he is desperate not to lose her. Ladybug has concerns about his co-dependency, but can’t bring herself to force a conversation about it. She simply tries to support him as best she can.

College ends. Graduation is something obligatory rather than an achievement to enjoy.

University begins.

Marinette stands on the steps, contemplating her future and trying to take steadying breaths before she enters those doors.

She hears her name called out and turns to see a surprised Adrien behind her.

She blinks back in surprise herself, having not expected to see him again, but she smiles politely and greets him back.

He looks relieved to see her, though she doesn’t quite know why. A few minutes are spent talking. About where they are now. About their classes. About their plans for the future. And not once does Marinette stutter—she’s sure her 14 year old self would be proud. Or die of shock.

But class is about to start and they have to go. Before Marinette can completely turn away, Adrien grabs her hand.

She turns back to look at him and nearly starts in surprise. There are tears in his eyes and he smiles brokenly. He looks almost fragile—like one brush of wind would be enough to break him.

He asks her if they can meet sometime soon. For coffee maybe? It’s good to see her again and he…needs to talk to her about some things.

Marinette smiles gently and agrees. Adrien looks overjoyed. They come up with a time and place, then part ways with a smile.

University ends up becoming a time for reunions, apparently. Because sure enough, for the next several weeks, Marinette ends up running into a lot of her old classmates. Max in math class. Rose in literature. Kim runs into her when they’re both on their way to the athletics department and happen to cross paths. Juleka happens upon her in the bathroom. Alix nearly runs her over in her skates. Nathaniel is in the art class after hers. She happens upon Ivan and Mylene during lunch break. Nino in physics class. And Alya as she’s leaving the school for the start of the weekend.

Each and every one of them greets her with surprise and awe, like they never expected to see her again and are so happy to be wrong. She makes time for them, because that’s the kind of person she is. And when the past is brought up, it’s of little surprise to her that they reveal the discovery of Lila’s manipulations after she left.

A part of her feels angry and hurt. That her leaving had such little impact. That it was only months after she was gone that they finally figured things out. That her word hadn’t been enough.

But she’s older now. Stronger. Wiser. Happier. 

So when each of them apologizes, she forgives them. She reassures them because Lila was used to manipulating people and knew what strings to pull. She’s not entirely convinced that she would have been able to figure out Lila was lying so easily if she hadn’t heard that first lie about Lila being BFFs with Ladybug. She reminds herself that she had the benefit of inside information that Lila couldn’t have known about to protect her whereas no one else did. She reminds herself that they were teenagers with big dreams and prone to trust easily. She reminds herself that she had done a number of silly things when she was younger as well.

So yes, she forgives them. More easily than any of them think they deserve but with all the love and support that Marinette has always had.

Some of them laugh in joy or disbelief. Some of them cry. A couple of them try to hide the fact that they’re crying and Marinette quite politely pretends she doesn’t notice. Alya breaks down sobbing in Marinette’s arms and apologizing repeatedly. Nino stays silent as the tears fall and Marinette simply remains seated next to him in quiet support.

Each of them leaves the conversation feeling lighter than they had in years.

[let-it-raines]

Rising from the Ashes (21/21)

When her husband died, Emma wasn’t sure that she could ever move on. He left her with a broken heart and a baby who was only three-months old. It’s enough to take most people down, to make them not want to keep going, but Emma Swan isn’t most people. She’s stronger than she has any right to be.

And after years of heartache, she’s found ways to move on…one of those being in Neal’s best friend, Killian Jones.

As she’s always known, however, things are more complicated than they ever seem to be.

Rating: Mature

A/N: So this long, angsty, sometimes happy story has come to an end, and I have to thank all of you for reading with me along the way even though some of you swore that you wouldn’t. lol. But you made it, and I hope you enjoy this last chapter to wrap everything up💙

We’ve got one final flashback, and it’s a long time coming!

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21

Tag list: @ultraluckycatnd @jamif @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings @resident-of-storybrooke @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @teamhook @ekr032-blog-blog @mayquita @bmbbcs4evr @pirateherokillian @wellhellotragic @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @shady-swan-jones @snow-into-ash @andiirivera @mariakov81 @shireness-says @facesiousbutton82 @superchocovian @jonirobinson64 @snowbellewells @thejollyroger-writer @tiganasummertree @idristardis @blowmiakisscolin

-/-

Killian dives under the water, tightly shutting his eyes to keep the salt out, before jumping back up to the surface and leaping over to tug on Henry’s legs as he kicks out at him in an attempt to get away. They’ve been lounging around in the ocean for a solid two hours, their skin wrinkled at the fingertips and toes – not that his skin isn’t already a bit wrinkled – and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world as he chases after Henry and continually keeps him from getting too far away. It helps that Henry’s got a small paddle board sans the paddle strapped to his ankle so he can’t move as quickly as he normally would be able to if he were swimming. Then again, the lad is also nearing twelve this summer, and while he’s grown quite a bit recently, he’s still far shorter than Killian is.

He never had a chance.

“Dad,” Henry gasps when Killian grabs onto his ankle and pulls him back to his stomach as small waves tumble over toward them and fade out into whitewater, “that’s not fair.”

“I gave you a head start,” he protests, angling Henry’s board toward the shore since they’re already out further than they should be and need to head back. “Are you getting hungry? I’m absolutely starving.”

“I could be hungry if we’re having grilled cheese.”

“You are just like your mum.”

“They’re good.”

“Not when you use the artificial cheese.”

“That’s the best kind.”

“Whatever you say.”

“I’m right.”

“You are not.” “Agree to disagree.”

Killian clicks his tongue as he starts guiding them closer in, wrapping his arm over Henry’s back and kicking his legs out as he swims. “You really are just like your mum if you’re saying phrases like that.”

“She works at my school. I can’t get away from her, and now you’re saying I sound like her. I can’t win.”

“Do not say that around her,” he gently warns as they get a little closer to shore so that he can see Emma building a sandcastle with Ada near their umbrella so that she still has her eyes on Nathan as he sleeps in his seat. Seven-month-olds aren’t exactly huge fans of the beach, but when it’s a summer day and no one has work or school, they’re not about to pass any of this up when they now live a few feet away from the ocean.

They moved to Boothbay a little less than two years ago after everything happened. He and Emma hadn’t wanted to live in Portland anymore, couldn’t live in their house, and as much as he hated to leave the place where so many of the great moments of his life happened, he knew that it was the right decision. They went through hell as a family, and even though picking up and moving to a new place is no way to solve issues, it was a start for them. They thought about leaving that summer, but he and Emma both decided that they would let Henry stay in his school for one more year so he didn’t have to deal with anymore upheaval in his life. He was going through a lot without the emotional capabilities to handle it, and they weren’t about to take him away from his friends and his family. But when they’d brought up the idea of moving, even if it is only two hours away, he’d been excited. Killian still thinks that Henry mostly wanted to move because they told him they’d be living in a house on the beach instead of one in a suburb, but honestly, the kid is happy now. That’s all that matters.

His family’s happiness is all that’s ever mattered to him, and even though there are days when he’s pissed at Emma, frustrated with Henry, and struggles dealing with Ada and Nathan, he treasures that happiness more than anything in the world.

No part of him takes any kind of happiness for granted.

Not his own, not his children’s, not his wife’s.

Wife.

The word still almost feels foreign to him despite he and Emma having gotten married two and a half years ago during an absolute torrential downpour in August. For him to have had the ring for nearly an entire year before he got to use it, the engagement and wedding sure as hell did happen quickly.

-/-

-/-

“Babe,” Emma calls.

“Babe.”

“Killian.”

“Killian,” Emma huffs, pressing her hand into his shoulder and pushing him a little on the bed until he opens his eyes, wondering why the hell Emma is jostling him awake when he’s getting to sleep in for once in his life.

“If you’re waking me up for morning sex, I’m going to need a minute or two.”

“Oh my gosh,” she groans, sitting down on the mattress next to him and moving down until her cheek is right next to his, her ass moving the mattress enough to jostle him a little bit more awake so that he twists his head to fully look at her while his hand lazily finds her thigh underneath the cover, squeezing the warm, bare skin a bit before resting it there, “no. I’m not waking you up for sex.”

“Pity.”

“Maybe later if you don’t bother me too much today.”

“Is that a promise?” he smirks, knowing that Emma most likely thinks he looks a little more ragged than handsome this morning.

“It’s a maybe,” she laughs, dipping her head down until he feels her lips against his forehead.

It’s still early, far too early, and if he knows anything about his surroundings today, it’s that the sun hasn’t made its way into the sky, the air outside still shrouded in darkness. And for Emma to be up this early on a Saturday without having been woken up by Henry or Ada, it’s basically a once in a lifetime day.

But she’s happy. He notices that too. Her face is bare of all makeup, freckles smattering across her nose, and he can see the blonde tips of her lashes that are often hidden by mascara. And her hair is a mess, the curls around her face a little more prominent, and her teeth look especially white against the tanned skin this summer has brought her.

They’ve been in a dark place since May, and even though Emma has made an effort to have things go on as normal, they haven’t.

Getting over what Neal did to them is such a slow process, one that he’s sure will manifest itself as different challenges and issues for the rest of their lives, and though it’s been easier for about a month and a half now, he still often can’t fall asleep at night because his mind runs through everything. Mostly he thinks about Emma and Henry, how they’re dealing with it, and that’s exactly what keeps him up.

They’re…he and Emma are good, though. He thinks that they may be better than they’ve ever been. It’s certainly not like it once was when they were dating and thinking about the prospect of having Ada. It’s different, but he thinks that it’s better. There’s more trust between them, more faith too, and after a year of sometimes feeling like they weren’t even playing the same game, he thinks that they’re solidly on the same team.

Co-captains.

He loves her, and he can’t ever imagine anything changing that. And if something tries, he won’t let it.

She’s happy.

He’s happy.

They’re happy in spite of everything, but this morning it’s almost as if there’s a different light around Emma than the one that usually stays with her.

“So tell me, my love,” he sighs, inching his hand a little higher on her thigh to tease her skin while he tilts his head up to look at her, “if not because I am simply so irresistible, why are you waking me up this morning?”

“Ada took her first real steps this morning.”

“What?”

“Ada. She took her first steps.”

“When?” he chuckles, moving up on the bed so that he can look at Emma a little more clearly, his chin resting in the dip between her breasts. “How long have you been awake?”

“At, like, two this morning. Her monitor went off, and I couldn’t get her to stop crying. I guess she was just really hungry since she didn’t really eat dinner last night, so I fed her and then we played for a few minutes, and she took her steps.”

“Bloody hell,” he mutters, throwing the blanket off of him and rising from the bed, tugging up at his pajama pants and adjusting his t-shirt as his heart beats wildly in his chest, excitement heating his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

“Babe,” Emma laughs, sitting up on the bed and moving the remaining blankets off of herself so he can see the skin of her legs, not that he’s really paying that much attention to them anyways. That’s a once in a lifetime thing. “Killian,” she giggles, probably at the fact that he got out of bed so quickly and is now standing in place with his hands in his hair while Emma sits further up on her knees, “what in the world are you doing?”

“She took her first steps?” he questions, the disbelief still running through him. Ada’s been nearly there for months now, seemingly always staying the cruising stage, and she took her first steps. God, he can’t…his little love continuously reaching new little milestones that are always so miraculous as he watches her develop.

He can’t believe he missed these too.

Emma smiles, and even though he already knew the answer, that’s all of the reassurance that he needed.

He’s obviously not thinking straight, his mind all over the place, but he’s so damn happy that all he can think to do is bend down and wrap his arms around Emma, pulling her up and off the bed so that he legs dangle in the air while she squeals, wrapping her arms around his neck while he gets a better grip holding her under her ass. It’s definitely not the most coordinated thing in the world, but he doesn’t care as Emma’s legs wrap around his waist with her ankles crossing at her back while he slams his lips into hers, capturing her laugh and any other words she had to say as he slowly sways them back and forth in their room, not daring to move with his eyes closed.

He can feel Emma’s smile through the kiss.

“I’m going to tell Ada to walk more often if I get that reaction out of you.”

“A bloody brilliant plan that.”

Emma laughs again, and he nips at her upper lip before pulling back and peppering kisses across her face while pleasurable shivers run down his spine with how she’s playing with his hair at the nape of his neck. She hums then, and when he pulls back, he takes the opportunity to start walking them out of the room.

“Wait. Where are you going?”

“My daughter took her first steps, love. I want to see her do it again.”

“She’s asleep.”

He pinches her ass before carefully opening the door. “I know.”

“Killian, I swear, do not wake her up. She’s going to be cranky if you wake her up, and I don’t want to deal with that.”

“I’ll deal with it.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Says the woman who woke me up to tell me this.”

“It’s big news, but I just got her back down.”

“Aye.” He nods, the reality of what she’s saying sinking in as he thinks of what their day will be like if they get Ada to be all riled up when she needs sleep. “You’re right. I’m just…I got a little overexcited there.”

“Well, you do tend to have the opposite thing happen to you when you’re woken up.”

He chuckles and turns them around in the hallway, his arms aching the slightest bit from having held Emma for so long. She’s a slight little thing, but even Ada gets too heavy to carry after he’s held her for too long. When he makes it back to the bedroom, he flips the switch to turn the light on their ceiling fan on, casting the room in a bright white light, before gently placing Emma down onto the bed, letting her fall back on her elbows with her hair falling down her back while she smiles up at him.

Somehow, he can feel the smile in his own cheeks.

And it all hits him suddenly. His daughter, the one who was once no more than seven pounds and could do little more than cry, is walking on her own, even if it’s only a step or two. His son is turning nine next month. He’s been with Emma for five years, and he turned thirty eight at the end of May.

Life is moving on.

For a long while, it stood still, the insanity swirling around them and causing a thick haze that no one could see through, but they made their way through it eventually even if some of the haze still surrounds them. But they keep walking, keep moving forward, and suddenly he doesn’t want to wait another moment to find the perfect moment when there has never been a more perfect moment than right now.

“Darling, wait right there.”

He doesn’t let her respond before he’s quickly moving the few steps to the closet and turning to grab the box out of his uniform pocket, the blue velvet smooth under his fingertips as a smile forms on his face, all of the nerves he thought he would feel nowhere to be seen as he pops the box open and removed the ring, holding it in the palm of his hand. He’s got no clue what he’s going to say, how he’s going to ask, so when he gets back into the bedroom to see Emma still in the same place with her brows raised high on her forehead, he simply steps in front of her and gets down on one knee on the hardwood floor.

If Emma’s brows could get any higher, they would, both of them practically in her hairline, but as quickly as they rise, they also lower to their normal spot all the while the corners of her lips curve into a smile that makes the green of her eyes nearly disappear.

But just nearly.

“Yes,” she blurts out, the word loud and yet somehow a quiet whisper in the room.

He chuckles, wanting to close his eyes with his laughter but not wanting to look away. “Emma, you have to let a man ask.”

“Sorry, sorry. I’m – ”

“I know, love. I know.” She’s getting ahead of herself, just like he did this morning, and that seems to be a habit of theirs. He doesn’t mind. “Emma, my love, the first time I saw you in that damned bar and made you laugh, I had absolutely no idea that we were going to go through so much together, that we were going to have this life and our kids and each other, that you were going to give me the greatest parts of my life, that you  would be the greatest part of my life. I love you more than anything, and while I can’t guarantee anything else, I can guarantee that I will always, always be by your side. So what do you say? Will you marry me?”

“Of course, yes. Killian,” she sighs leaning forward and grabbing his face until her lips are on his, an insistent press that is somehow the lightest touch he has ever felt. He’s kissed Emma more times than he can count, had her lips softly gliding over his every day for years now, but right now he can barely contain himself over how much everything is different and yet very much the same. “I will marry you, and I will be right there by your side annoying you every step of the way.”

A laugh escapes him, and he presses forward to brush his lips over the corner of hers, unable to keep himself from covering every inch of her warm skin with his lips as all of the turmoil and heartache disappears and he can only feel joy that rivals the day Ada was born or the day that Henry called him his dad for the first time.

Or maybe every other moment that he’s had with Emma.

“I love you,” she whispers, pressing her forehead into his while her hands reach up to clutch his face.

“I love you,” he echoes, wishing he had the words to express his love more than those three words do. He reaches up to grab her left hand from his face, pulling it down to rest between them as he quickly slides the ring onto her finger, marveling at the fact that it’s finally in the place that it should be. “You and the kids are the best things that have ever happened to me.”

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to us.”

“I mean, I already knew that.”

“Stop,” Emma laughs, falling back against the bed while he gets up from the ground to place his hands on either side of her head, dipping his head down to kiss her neck, spending a bit of time there while Emma’s laughs turn into gasps. He rather likes that. “Oh, I think I changed my mind about the morning sex.”

“Proposing did it for you then?”

“I mean, I was already considering it, but I do think that encouraged me the smallest bit.”

“Well, I will take what I can get.”

“You’ve always been a man of standards.”

He winks. “I try.”

Later, when they’re sated and their hair is a little messier than before, his skin still tingling from the way Emma felt wrapped around him, he finds the strength to rise from the bed when he hears Henry walk past their bedroom, obviously having woken up and probably wanting breakfast.

“I can go feed Henry,” Emma mumbles, rising from the bed and pulling on a t-shirt to cover her breasts while she quickly combs her hair back into a bun, which really doesn’t do anything to hide the fact that they were just intimate, but it’s not as if Henry will know, especially not with a new ring on her finger he’s sure she’ll be talking about. “If memory serves, there’s a little girl who you were very excited to see much earlier this morning.”

“I can make breakfast, love.”

“No,” Emma insists, pressing up on her toes to brush her lips over his cheek once, twice, three times, “I will. I think today deserves celebrating with something good and unhealthy that you would never let us have.”

“I think I could make an exception today.”

“Still. I can do it.”

He nods in agreements, and when she turns around to walk away, he quickly reaches down to grab her ass, making her giggle as she turns around to briefly look at him before walking out of the room with the slightest shake of her head.

That woman is going to be his wife.

He’s the luckiest man.

After getting dressed back in his pajamas, he quietly makes his way down the hallways and into the nursery, finding Ada standing against the railing with her brown hair standing up in so many different ways that he knows she got it from him and the weird cowlicks that he has.

“Dada,” she squeals, her face lighting up in a way that will never fail to amaze him that someone so little loves him so much.

“Good morning, sweetheart. You been keeping your mummy up at weird times?”

“No,” she giggles, her favorite word as of late. He picks her up out of the crib and kisses her cheeks, making her giggle more. “No, no, no.”

“Oh come on, I think you did. And you walked too? It’s been a very big morning in this house.”

“No.”

“But it is,” he insists, standing her up on the changing table. “Your mummy told me she wants to marry me, my love bug.”

-/-

-/-

They’d gotten engaged after far too long of a time, and Emma told him that she didn’t want to wait anymore, that there was no point in delaying something that they both wanted to do. So with the help of Mary Margaret, planner extraordinaire, they planned a small wedding to happen in the backyard of Ruth’s house before Henry went back to school and Emma went back to work. Except it rained so much that everything happened in the living room, decorations haphazardly placed in the spots where the furniture had been carried to other rooms. It was a mess, but it was as close to perfect as he ever could have imagined. Liam, Belle, and Caleb decided to fly in from England, Belle absolutely insistent that she would not miss the wedding, and he finally got to meet his nephew who is now his favorite little man to get to video chat at least twice a week. David applied for a license online to marry them, and even though Emma laughed for a solid ten minutes at the image of David marrying them, she did come around to the idea.

He asked Henry to be his best man, told him it was one of the most important jobs for him to have after being a good big brother, and they let Ada be their flower girl even if it was an absolute disaster since she nearly fell every other step. He’d had to walk toward her and lean down in front of her at the end of their makeshift aisle and clap to her to continue her walking. She’d just taken those infamous first steps four weeks prior, and it was definitely still a work in progress. Emma had been standing at the back of the room in her dress, a small lacy thing that hugged her chest and flowed from her hips, and she hadn’t been able to help herself from quickly walking toward him and helping to encourage Ada to walk until she got to the end of the aisle with a small basket full of the flower petals they completely expected her to drop the moment she was handed it.

The entire thing was imperfect, crazy, and yet it was the most intimate moment of his life as he got to officially commit himself to Emma for the rest of his days.

He loves her with every beat of his heart, and while it’s never been easy, even in the days of flirting and teasing, they have fought for the love that they share because they both know it’s been worth it. He’ll never be one to claim that falling in love and getting married solves problems and brings utter happiness because that’s simply not true. Fights and petty arguments happen, disagreements over how to raise children occur, and heated discussions over what to have for dinner happen frequently. But that’s what happens when you share your life with someone else.

The disagreements, though, are always smaller than the love and happiness, and he’s thankful that he’s got this woman by his side who is his partner in all things.

And they’ve got three kids who they love more than anything.

Killian officially adopted Henry after they got married, and even though it required legally working with Neal, it was still one of the best decisions he’s ever made. The fact that Henry asked for it makes it all the sweeter. The kid has always been his son, and adoption or not, that was never going to change. Nathan arrived back in October two weeks before Emma’s birthday, and while they had planned him, it was still somehow a shock to have another little one in his arms.

(Changing the little lad’s diaper was a bit of a shock too since he was used to Ada and wasn’t around for changing a lot of Henry’s diapers.)

But a good shock.

And his little love Ada isn’t quite as little anymore, even if she’s a bit on the small side and takes after her mother in nearly every way but her hair and the indent of her chin, as she’s now four and more full of life than he ever thought possible. She talks, just all of the time, and he’s not sure if he can quite keep up with her. When he can’t, she makes sure to tell him, placing her hands on her hips and staring at him with furrowed brows until he catches up with whatever creation she’s making or story she’s telling.

He’s got good kids.

And a beautiful wife who works as a high school vice principal now while he spends his days managing the harbor for the town since they have such traffic for their boat tours and shipping. It doesn’t pay as much as his last job, but the cost of living here is cheaper. Mostly, though, he’s happy in his job, and it doesn’t make him constantly feel like he’s at war both physically and with himself.

Happy.

That’s the word he keeps coming back to.

For so long, their word was normalcy. All they wanted was for everything to go back to normal. After everything, they’re happy. They still have their difficult days, all of them still in therapy and still struggling some days, but they’re happy.

“Daddy,” Ada yells from the shore, getting up and nearly kicking over the tower on her sandcastle much to Emma’s dismay, “I want to go surfing too.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know how to surf, love bug,” he sighs, unstrapping Henry’s ankle wrap so that he can stand up on his own. “We only have this paddleboard.”

“Mommy said it was a surfboard.”

Emma shrugs her shoulders and raises her hands in the air while her lips press into her skin and her brows raise. “That’s my bad. I forgot the name for it. I was stuck somewhere between boogie board and surf board, so I feel like I was close enough.”

“Not really,” Henry adds in.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m never right. I get it.”

“Daddy,” Ada whines again as she runs up to him and wraps her arms around his calf, weighing him down so that he has to kick up to walk, “please. I want to.”

He glances over to Emma to see what she has to say since they really need to get back up to the house, and when she nods her head, he reaches down and picks Ada up to rest on his hip as he grabs Henry’s paddleboard, which they have been decidedly not using the paddle for. Henry just got the thing last week, and they’re still working on coordination.

“Five minutes,” he tells Ada, pulling at her braided pigtails while wading out until he’s waist deep in the water.

“That’s not very long.”

“Well, we’ve got to get inside to get food in your tummy.”

“I like food.”

“You and me both.”

He steadies the board on the nearly still water before sitting Ada down on it. He already knows that she’s going to topple over into the ocean, but her lips are pursed in that way that she gets from Emma that means she’s determined to do something.

“Alright, love,” he tells her as he stands her up, one hand wrapped around her stomach while the other stays steady on the board, “you have to stay still and suck in your tummy like you do on the balance beam at gymnastics, yeah?”

“I know.” “Oh, well if you know then.”

“I do. You have a lot of hair on your tummy, Daddy.”

“Your mummy likes that hair.” “That’s weird.”

“No, it’s not. I like the hair on you head.”

Ada sighs while he gently moves her around as he keeps her wobbly legs from falling as much as he can. She’s such a little spitfire, and that’s not at all what he was expecting for how calm of a baby she was.

It’s payback for something. It has to be.

“But it’s on my head and not on my tummy. Mommy doesn’t have hair on her tummy. You’re like a bear.”

He laughs underneath his breath before he lets go of the board to run his fingers over Ada’s stomach, making her giggle and lose her footing until she falls onto the board, the air escaping her for a moment as she lands on her bottom. He stands her up once more, but she never quite gets over her giggling fit, so he makes the executive decision that their time is up and they can go inside. Grabbing Ada, her props her up on his shoulders and grabs the board so they can walk back up onto the sand where Emma and Henry are already packing up their things.

“Nathanial, my man, why are you not helping out?” “Babe,” Emma groans, throwing her head back as she puts some of Nathan’s toys in his bag, “his name is not Nathanial. It’s Nathan, and we call him Nate. I don’t know why you insist on calling him Nathanial like he’s a little old man from two centuries ago.”

He plops Ada down on the ground with the paddleboard. “Because it bothers you, my darling wife,” he sighs, dipping his head enough so that he can slide his lips over hers, the taste of salt water and a little bit of sunscreen consuming him. “And I believe I promised to bother you every single day in my vows.”

“That is not at all what happened.”

“It’s not,” Henry adds in, walking up to her with his float wrapped around his waist and his hair lying flat on his head. “You guys said the normal vows or whatever because I remember you talked about it forever.”

“Hey now, lad, you were very excited for your mum and I get to married. You can’t act like you weren’t.”

“Yeah, but I was nine, and I didn’t realize how gross you two were then.”

Emma looks at him, and he shrugs, his brows waggling across his forehead. Such a pre-teen. “Ada bug, why don’t you go give your big brother a kiss?”

“Please no,” Henry whines, already closing his eyes while Ada nods her head and practically pounces on Henry, scrambling up into his arms until she’s placing a smattering of wet, sloppy kisses all over Henry’s face. He always acts like he hates it, but he doesn’t. Even when he’s moody because his siblings are so much younger than him and he has to watch children’s shows, he would do absolutely anything for his younger siblings.

He’s a good kid. The best kid who he absolutely loves with his entire heart.

“Henry,” Ada giggles, “stop tickling me.”

“Stop kissing me.”

“Fine,” Ada huffs until Killian is grabbing her out of Henry’s arms and resting her on his hip as both Emma and Nate laugh behind them. “Daddy, can we go get food now?”

“Absolutely, my love. You have to go pack up your things, though, okay? Pick up all of the toys.”

It takes far longer to clean up all of their things than it should, but that always seems to happen whenever they let the kids help with things like that. It’s so much easier to do things themselves, but Henry and Ada have to know to clean up their own things. And they’re not on a timeline today anyways, so it’s fine as they take their time getting everything together and walking back up to the house. As always, getting Ada showered in their outdoor shower is a struggle with her squirming away from the cold water, but he’s got to get the sand off of her before she tracks it through the house.

That happened once, and he swears the rug in the living room has never quite been the same.

“Mom, can we have grilled cheese for lunch?” Henry asks after they’ve all showered and changed into dry clothes. Emma’s simply in her pajamas, one of his t-shirts and a pair of loose shorts, and he can see her hair already curling as it dries down her back. It’s gotten curlier since they moved here, and he quite likes the way it snaps back into place after he runs his fingers through it. “I really want grilled cheese.”

“Sure. Your dad will make it because I have to feed Nate.”

“No,” Henry and Ada yell at once, and he can’t help the little sting of insult that rushes through him. “He makes it with the weird cheeses,” Henry finishes, repeating their conversation from earlier.

“I will only make it with the cheese you guys like,” he promises with a roll of his eyes as he picks Nate up from his playmat and hands him over to Emma, “but you guys also have to eat some kind of vegetable.”

“I like carrots.”

“Okay, we’ll just go with the orange foods today then.”

He turns some music on his phone, one of his playlists that he knows doesn’t have cursing in it, and plays it over a little speaker they keep in the kitchen while both Ada and Henry sit at the island scrolling through an iPad as they play whatever game they’ve agreed on lately. Emma is sitting with Nate in the living room, and when he turns around, he can easily see her. That’s one of his favorite things about this house, the openness of it all. Their entire downstairs is basically one large room with a bathroom hidden in the back, and it makes everything seem much larger despite this house being smaller than their last one. Most of their old furniture remains, the same gray couch and loveseat with the brightly colored armchair all sitting in the living room with a white and gray striped rug (the one Ada stained) underneath it. The television rests above a white brick fireplace, and it’s all backed up to a few floor-to-ceiling windows that give a view of the ocean. There are curtains that they close at night or when they want privacy, but rarely does he want to not have the view of the water.

A part of him would like to say the house is clean, but Nathan’s toys are scattered everywhere no matter how often they’re put away in their bins, Ada’s joining them, and even though Henry mostly keeps his things in his room, occasionally some of his belongings will make their way downstairs. It’s definitely a home that’s lived in, and he can get over his far too rigid ways for that.

There are too many awful, difficult things in the world for him to be constantly worrying about everything being clean all the time even if cleanliness is something he’s trying to instill in his children.

It’s a balancing act.

He finishes cooking for everyone, cutting up the sandwiches in everyone’s preferred ways and piling the plates with vegetables before sliding over the plates and cups of water to Ada and Henry, hoping that Ada won’t manage to spill her water. After they’re fed, he takes Emma’s plate over to her and places it on the end table so that she can eat too. He’ll fix himself something later once the smell of processed cheese is out of the air.

Nathan starts whining, the beginnings of a cry that he recognizes and usually dreads.

“Oh no, kid,” Emma sighs when he unlatches and his wails get a little louder. She gets up from the chair, pulling her t-shirt down in the process, and starts walking him around. “Don’t cry. We’re happy, aren’t we? We just ate, Nate. Ooh that rhymes, see? You should like rhyming. You probably don’t get it, but that fine.”

His wails calm down to quiet sniffles as Emma sways him back and forth to the sound of the music, dancing with their son until he quiets down. He’s a good baby, a little fussier than Ada was, but he’s generally pretty happy. It helps that this is their first child where nothing crazy has happened in the months after their birth, so they’re calmer, their stress levels much lower. They’ve got a pretty relaxed life, and that’s exactly what he wants.

“You used to be louder than that,” he overhears Henry tell Ada from behind him.

“I was not,” she protests.

Killian laughs to himself before rising from the couch and moving to stand in front of Emma, motioning for her to hand him Nate. She does, passing him off with a smile before she settles down in the armchair, curling her legs up underneath her as she takes a bite out of her sandwich.

“Now, Nate,” he says, swaying his hips from side to side and poking his son’s nose, “there is a secret to dancing. Sometimes you can be silly and move your arms and your bottom however you want, but then other times there’s a specific flow of how to dance. Your mum is a natural at dancing, but I believe that’s because she picked a partner who knew what he was doing.”

“You’re full of yourself.”

“No, no, I am not.” Nate babbles at him before reaching up to grab at his face, his little smile so happy when he was red faced moments ago. “You see, I used to have to go to military balls, my boy, and one time I had the pleasure of dancing with your mother. She nearly stepped on my toes, but I made sure that she didn’t. It was all very romantic.”

“We weren’t even dating at the time.”

He winks at Emma. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t think it was romantic.”

He keeps moving around with Nate while Emma eats, trying to keep him occupied. He’s attached to Emma, is always wanting to be with her, so it’s always a bit of a bonus for Nathan to be so happy when Killian’s playing with him and Emma’s just a few feet away. Ada joins in, deciding she wants to dance too, and while Henry doesn’t really have any interest, he settles down on the couch until Emma pulls him up and forces him to join her. He’s reluctant about it, but he does it.

Eventually they all get tired out, so Emma closes the curtains and turns on a movie, letting Nathan sleep on her chest and Ada nap at her side while he and Henry debate if Spiderman or Batman would be better at saving the town if they were to ever come under any danger. Henry has had to grow up quickly because of the circumstances of his life, but it’s comforting for him to get to have these little conversations about something as inconsequential as superheroes.

(Spiderman would definitely be better.)

The rest of their day is spent lazily, only getting up to eat or use the restroom, and by the time night falls, they’ve got Ada and Nathan sleeping and Henry settled in his room reading one of his books with the promise to turn off the lights before ten. He knows it won’t happen, but he can hope.

Walking through their bedroom, he makes his way to the bathroom where Emma is standing in front of the mirror spraying something in her hair before she attempts to brush out the tangled curls. He knows it’s not fun because he did the same for Ada after taking her braids out, and it was a mess. When she curses under her breath at a knot, he steps forward until he’s swaying into her space and pressing their bodies together while his hands press up under her shirt to splay over her stomach, her skin warm from the sun she got this morning.

“Hi,” he whispers before dragging his lips across her neck, tasting the salt that still remains on her skin as she leans back into him. There will never be a more beautiful, loving woman, and he’s grateful that she’s his every day.

“Hi.”

“The kids are asleep.”

“That tends to happen at night.”

He hums in agreement before pressing another kiss to her neck as his hands wander up her stomach to her breasts, running his fingers over her nipples while Emma arches her back into him. “You know what else tends to happen at night?”

“Late night talk shows.”

“Tease,” he laughs, stopping his ministrations and resting his chin on her shoulder so that he can look at the two of them in the mirror. His eyes are immediately drawn to the little bit of gray peppering in his hair, just at the temple, and as much as Emma tells him that he’s beginning to be her silver fox, he’s not overly fond of this proof of aging, especially when his wife and his children are still so young and vibrant. “Today was a good day.”

“It was,” Emma agrees, reaching her hand up to scratch at the back of his head that sends shivers down his spine. “I wish you had off of work more often during the summers so we could have days like this.”

“It’s my busy season.”

“I know, I know. I like eating too much for us not to have jobs.”

“And the roof over our head.”

“Yeah, that too,” she chuckles before she manages to grab the corner of his lips with hers. “Give me ten minutes, and I’ll come to bed, okay?”

“I like that plan.”

He lets Emma brush through her hair and wash her face while he brushes his teeth and washes his own face, slipping out of his sweats so that he’s only wearing his boxers before leaving the bathroom and moving to settle down under the plush white comforter in their bedroom. It’s still early enough for them not to be in bed, and he knows that he has laundry to do, but he’ll let that slide until tomorrow. It takes him a few minutes to find something on television to watch, settling on reruns of Seinfeld, and Emma joins him, laying her head against his chest and wrapping her arms around his stomach while he plays with her untangled hair as they sit in silence for a few minutes, the lights on the screen flickering in the dim lights of the room.

“We need to get Henry packed for his camp tomorrow. And Ada has a gymnastics class at the same time that I need to be dropping Henry off.”

“I can take Ada. I don’t have to be at work until ten on Monday.”

“That works for me, but don’t forget her - ”

“Scrunchie. Aye, I know, love,” he promises, dipping his head down to kiss the top of Emma’s hair. “I know how she absolutely has to have her hair done. She’s a particular lass.”

“I wonder where she gets that from.”

“Obviously not me.”

Emma pats his stomach and turns her head to kiss his chest. “Sure, babe. You’re never particular about anything.”

“Never.”

His hand travels down her back to run over her ass, lightly teasing the firm skin before he drags his fingers back up, scratching at her skin. He doesn’t have any devious intent, simply moving his hand up and down Emma’s body because it’s relaxing to her in the times when he’s not riling her up. And if it happens to bring a little energy back to them as they’re half asleep.

“You know, Mrs. Jones, I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s never a good thing.”

“It is at least one out of every ten times.”

“That’s debatable.”

“Anyways,” he laughs, cupping her chin and tilting her head up so that his thumb rubs over the indent in her chin and he can look into her eyes, “I was thinking that it’s such a shame that I never did get to take you as my date to one of the military balls we attended. We could have gotten dressed up, danced all night until you had me carrying your shoes because your feet hurt. You deserve nights like that.”

“Killian, we got married in my mom’s living room when we could have had a big party wearing nice clothes where we danced all night and got drunk off our asses. I don’t...it would have been great to get to go to those balls together, to have the fancy nights out, but I don’t need any of that. It’s so much better for you and me to do stupid dances in the living room with our kids. I couldn’t ask for more because I love you, and I’m happy.”

He dips his head to slide his lips over hers, quick and warm and insistent, but he likes it most of all because he can feel her smile mixed in with his.

“My love, your happiness is all I desire.”

“Same.”

“That’s not quite as eloquent.”

“Yeah, well, eloquence was never in the deal when you signed up for this package.”

He smiles at her, pressing forward to kiss her one more time as their noses brush together. “I’m more than good with that.”

[pbandjesse]

My back is really hurty right now but today was a really nice day. Just long and rainy.

I was very tired last night. I'm very tired today. But it's all right. I slept okay last night. I woke up with James's alarm around 6 and fell back asleep until 7. He was gone when I woke up. He had gone to his parents house to get the car to get the last couple things for my other apartment. The plan now is for me to go on Saturday and Sunday and clean. Trying to make it as nice as possible. Then we will go in with are U-Haul when he has a day off. And get my bed and my bookshelf. I'm still stressed out about it all but it's fine. I think I'm going to bring some cleaning stuff and trash bags and things like that over this weekend. Try to just do as much as possible.

I felt okay when I got up. It wasn't thrilled about being awake. Are going to work but I had some positive feelings for the guy. Last night at around 10 p.m. Tiffany called me and asked if I would feel okay leading the older kids science class. And honestly that's what I thought we were doing from the beginning so I was fine with that. I left here around 7:40 and went down to the bus stop.

I got to work at 8:15 and went upstairs and sorry it's setting things up. My fabric was missing but I found it underneath I dropped off. No idea why it was there. It's all good. Set up and then I went to talk to Edina about changing the stem project. And then I went to go talk to Tiffany about the schedule. Because one of the reasons I am leaving stem is so that a Dina can see how the project should go. So having her do stem first doesn't make any sense.

But after some phone calls and stuff we were able to work that out and I got the schedule and I want it. My art is the same. Then we have reading lunch and recess. And then I go to stem with the older kids. While the little kids go to book arts. And then the little kids come to stem and then the older kids go to book Arts. And that worked really well. Today was so much more chill than it has been and it was great.

I set up some stuff for science. Mixed up watercolor paint in bottles. Made some examples. We were doing sneeze art. And it was very silly. But we started the day with some annoyances because I am very much all about organized chaos. And one of my kids ask to go to the bathroom while we were at breakfast and I told him to go ahead and he ran out the door like a first grader will do. And the new principal admonished me and Marcus for not watching our kids. And it was just very rude and the very first interaction I've ever had with this woman who has not introduced yourself to us yet. So I just felt some kind of way. But whatever. Hopefully she can redeem herself to me because so far is not looking good.

But besides that today was great. We went upstairs we did yoga. I did yoga with the little kids first and then went did with the big kids. With the big kids they also introduce some of my ballet stretches and that was really fun. Getting them to use their brains a little bit. Not all of them are participating but the ones that are I can tell her having a good time.

Art went really well. I was worried about Jeremiah for a while because he just did not understand that he was moving from beading to Patches. But really that was because yesterday he didn't actually do beading because he kept spilling the beads all over the place. But that's fine. He ended up sitting with our youth worker Trinity and he drew these little characters that he likes on a patch that we've been hot glued on. I was so proud of him I took that picture up there with him smiling all big. So sweet. I just wish that he would stop whining. That's my only thing that I cannot stand. We're working on it though.

Reading was great. We drew pictures on the computers of a book we've read recently. I drew some stuff from Flowers for Algernon. And then we talked about them and we had to have some conversations about critique and how you talk about other people's work. Even if you don't like it. You have to be kind. I doubt with some little kid tears but everything was okay. We were having fun.

Lunch and recess we're fine. I think I'm supposed to be having my break during recess now but that's very early for me and I don't want to have my break then so I just didn't. I stayed outside and just chilled. Then we went inside for stem.

It was very confusing for the kids because they had to go into a different room that they've been used to for the last 2 weeks. But we got everybody in the right place and then I had to take it sit down and I kind of gave them a mini introduction on myself and explain what we were going to do and my expectations for them. That if they did the project they would get free time. It's an incentive and honestly they need it. It's summer camp it's not school they should be able to have free time. Especially because I just read that article last night about how not having free play and free time outside of a structured adult activity is really detrimental for your kids and their ability to self soothe and self direct. They need to be able to learn how to do that. So it's very important for me to figure out places in the day where they can have that.

And it worked out really well. They were loud. And they weren't always listening but we explained the project. We talked about how you sneeze at a hundred miles an hour and you cough at 50 miles an hour. And then we got our watercolor paper and are smocks and we went outside.

For both classes it works very well. But the little kids were actually better at it because Miss Adina only left a little kids Spritz their paper twice. And I let the big kids do it as much as they wanted. So some of the big kids ones fell apart because they were so wet. But they were having a really good time and they were color mixing and they were being messy and exploring the medium. And they were learning but it wasn't like a lot. It was just fun. And that's what I wanted. You're outside and it's too hot and so after about 15 minutes we went back in.

We all later artwork down put her smokes away I check back in with them make sure they understood the two facts that I thought them. And then I told them guys you did the project you get 20 minutes of free time. So they got their laptops out and they got their phones out and they were having a good old time. And then at the end we close the laptops and cleaned up and they said thank you Miss Jessie and they headed out. It was so much smoother than every other day I have experience seeing the older kids. It was great. I hope that we can keep that momentum.

For the second half. When I had two little kids do it. I stepped back. I let Adina handle that. I only said a couple things. They all were smocks. They got four colors instead of six colors. Mr. Marcus was there to help. We went outside and we all did our thing. The kids work was much nicer than the older kids. They weren't as wet. You actually saw the spray pattern. It was good. Had them bring them all upstairs we laid them out too dry. I'm going to hang them up tomorrow probably. And then we went in. We watched a video and it was nice. I had a good day.

We finish up the day with some snacks and some hanging out on our yoga mats. Took the ball downstairs to go home. Hung out on the hill until everyone was picked up. And I was able to leave at like 3:45.

The bus took a little while and it was really hot out. Just so heavy and humid. And that's because rain was coming. When I was getting off the bus it wasn't raining at. And when I got to my bike it wasn't raining yet. But about two blocks down the street it was starting to rain. At first it was just light. And I thought I would be able to make it home. But then it started to pour. Just absolutely downpouring on me. It felt nice but there was lightning and a lot of wind. The few other people I saw outside trying to get stuff together and run in for looking at me with the same Panic I'm sure was on my face. I was soaked to the skin. But it was just funny at that point. There was nothing else I could do so I just went upstairs and told James to take my off of the day photo. Because it was funny. And then I took a shower.

James to pick up pizza for dinner. He seeing Hamilton with his parents and sister tonight. Which is great because it's the anniversary of the Duel at Weehawken. That's amazing. I don't know if it was on purpose but it's great. So he hung out with me for an hour and then went to go have dinner with them. And I've just been hanging out at home.

I worked on my Furby project for a little while. I've been watching videos and playing with sweetpea. Sweetpea loves pipe cleaners so he was very excited about those. I painted my toenails and now I think I'm going to get up and maybe go do something but I have no idea what my eyebrows? Play with my makeup? Who knows!

Tomorrow is the last day of camp for the week. 5 days is very hard. I do not like working 8 hours. I love my job it's very easy. But it is still a lot. I don't think I was built to work eight hours a day. I am a baby. But it's going to be a good day. I'm slightly concerned about the project tomorrow because I'm not positive we have the right materials for it. But still going to be fun. And then me and James are going to go see to Apartments. It was nice. But they're both of Mount Vernon and we're both really kind of committed to moving to Bolton Hill now. So we'll see what happens we'll make it work. I'm excited to see places because it gives us some good perspective of what the other wants. We both are pretty sure we want the same things and we know what the other one likes but it's still fun. Even if we're not going to rent these ones.

Hope you guys all have a good night. I'm sending you all Good Vibes through the universe. Sleep well. Be safe. Try not to get rained on.

[waitinginthedarke]

It Consumes Me

A BTS/Kim Namjoon Fanfiction

Summary: The minute he laid eyes on her he knew she was the one. But love is a battle of the mind and the heart, and when the voices in your head start winning, how can your heart possibly compete with a choice that consumed you before the very start...

Type: Angst/Love

Chapter 1

Namjoon

‘So, I was telling this guy; ‘hey, back up man, like I was just trying to explain the complete and utter ridicule of yourself you just made by trying to compare Ghandi to some exponentially less developed basketball player’ and-‘

There she was.

The words sliced through Namjoon’s thoughts just as quickly and brashly as the slap that had befallen his cheek when his mother had disciplined him as a child; like a wake-up call that was as simultaneously terrifying and unwanted, as it was enlightening.

He could feel Jimin beside him tugging at his arm as he chortled away at the story that Namjoon had been telling him- a story that was long since forgotten. For some reason he simply could not seem to take his eyes from the girl that had just walked in the door, the glow from the muggy, rain dampened streets behind her seeming to redefine her outline, allowing her to be the picture of importance that those who shoved past her seemed, by some completely oblivious reason, to be missing.

‘Hyung? Hyung, what happened next-‘

‘Look at that girl.’

The second he spoke the words a hint of regret arose within Namjoon, the way the others’ heads turned to follow his line of sight causing his stomach to knot with dislike, and yet….yet he needed them to see her; to see her beauty just as much as he could.

‘What about her, Namjoon-hyung?’

The silence that seems to stretch on after those words begins to irritate him, forcing him to remove his eyes from the girl and turn to see the others flickering their gazes between himself and her as if there was some big joke that they were missing, the curve of their mouths that had formed out of unsure humour, slowly dropping as they take note of his expression.

‘What is it?’ Jimin prompts, now staring at the girl, almost desperately, to try and understand the nearly pained expression on his friends face, subconsciously taking a step away from the bar towards her in his efforts to try to understand, but being forced back into place by Namjoon’s hand clamping down on his shoulder as he turns his head back to regard the girl, not wanting to waste another moment of his time not looking at her.

‘She’s beautiful.’ He explains, although the softness of his voice only offers a mild reassurance as to his words, providing a shade of nonchalance to conceal the tendrils of obsession beginning to brew upon his tongue.

‘Oh…well, okay…’ mutters Jimin, staring up at his older friend who seemed to be staring piercingly at the random girl who had just walked in. In his mind he figured it was probably just someone who looked similar to an old friend, and therefore after one last squint of curiousness, he turned away from his friend and back to the others, deciding that he should leave Namjoon to have a moment of reminiscence.

‘Hey! What do you guys want to do for dinner?’

The way her hair fell so delicately upon her shoulder, cradling her arms and laying flush against her back, being offset by the warm cream coloured cardigan she was wearing beneath her black rain-sparkling coat, the colour being the perfect hue to cause her eyes to glow from beneath her lashes. Everything about her contrasted against her presence in the edgy, ‘off the beaten track’ café that the guys had rolled into after dance practice- the place not being their favourite haunt, but they still called in enough to be considered regulars. From the light blue hue of her jeans that, even from across the room, Namjoon could tell were cleanly ironed and without any damage or stains, as though they were fresh off of the rack that morning; to the neat fold of her satchel that clung happily to her shoulder blade, completely free of décor or debris, but still appearing to his eyes like a Persian cat, purring contently due to the delicate beauty of its owner. Even her shoes, trademark-less and almost common, appeared to be of designer standard, the rain and soot from the streets outside evidently having been repelled by the owner’s idea of dirt alone.

As Namjoon ran his eyes down her, inspecting her inch by inch, he simply became more curious, more concerned, and more angered by his own inability to decipher her…

…and all the more taken by her mystery.

‘A Large Americano, please.’

‘Sure! That’s-‘

‘Put it on my tab.’

The moment she’d spoken had knocked him back into reality, causing him to realize just how far he’d walked from the others; and how close he’d come to her. It was before he was even aware of the words on his tongue, that they’d tumbled out, his eyes widening the tiniest bit at the sudden sentence escaping him, before his entire body had frozen over as he’d watched her turn to look at him with a question in her eyes.

Eyes that were now fixed on him, rendering him speechless.

‘Uh…sure. …your coffee will be ready in a moment.’

He could hear the awkwardness in the server’s voice, and he was aware of him turning around to make the coffee in his peripheral vision, but still he refused to take his eyes from her, the only motion he was capable of in that moment, being his heart thundering like hooves in his chest where he was unable to breath with her being so completely aware of himself.

‘Uh…thank you. That was very kind.’

Her voice washed over him like warm honey and chamomile, soothing and warming him all at once, and it took him several moments to realize he should respond to her before his silence proved frightening.

‘You’re quite welcome. I figured you looked like you needed it; -w-what with the weather and all.’ He explains quickly, not wanting her to think he meant it in any negative way, and feeling marginal relief inflate his chest as a small smile curves the corner of her lips.

‘That’s true. I figured I’d come in to warm up in the vain hope that it calms down outside, but I doubt I’ll be so lucky.’ She sighs, peering behind herself to the torrential downpour demonstrating itself outside, and with the profile of her face on full display to him, Namjoon found his knees growing weak, his hand suddenly coming up to grip the side of the counter as he works to style it out as leaning against the sturdy wood surface when she turns to look back at his sudden movement.

‘So, I haven’t seen you around before,…do you..come here often?’

In his mind, he was fully aware of how cheesy he sounded, the words forcing their way eagerly from between his lips despite his best efforts to quench them, and by the look she sends his way she’s all too aware of how cringe worthy he sounded.

‘Um…not really no, I was just passing through on the way back from the market. ..do you…come here often yourself?’ she reciprocates, the uneasiness of her question causing him to lock eyes with her, and its at that exact moment that they both burst into laughter, not being able to contain the awkwardness of the line of questioning between them.

Her eyes crinkled at the edges, the way she brought her hand up to cover her mouth only emphasizing this fact, the server pushing her coffee to her across the counter, muttering something about enjoying it, interrupting the delightful tune of her laugh, but the comment isn’t noted by either of them fully as they continue to chuckle, eyes sparkling at one another.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come across so cringey.’ Namjoon offers once the laughter had trailed off slightly, picking up on the way her hand trembled the tiniest bit as she reached out for her coffee, almost as though she was nervous; the action extending his confusion and curiosity towards the angelic being before him.

‘Honestly, I’m more concerned with the fact that such a cute guy noticed me than how cringey that line was.’ She offers tentatively, taking a sip from her coffee and evidently relaxing as she flickers her eyes back up to his, the look of minor shock from what she’d just said, clear on his face if her slight smirk in reaction was anything to go by.

‘But you’re beautiful.’

He hadn’t meant for the words to force their way out of his mouth quite so suddenly, but at the same time he was simply glad they had, the truth ringing in his ears as surely as the sight presented itself stood before him. Although, by the way her eyes widened minutely and she lifted her hand to cover her mouth once more, this time in shock, she, just as the other boys had been, was clearly unaware of this fact.

‘Pardon?’

God, if only she knew how hilarious that word was to him in that moment.

‘I-I mean…uh…Would you like to go for coffee sometime?’

The irony of the situation threatened to demolish him in that moment as he saw the way her eyes swiveled around the coffee shop they were stood in, the sly sip of her drink she took as they landed back on him, causing him to close his own eyes in defeat. His naturally awkward reactions that had been smothered since his early years as an idol had chosen that moment to surface all at once and ruin his chance with the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, and all he could do was sigh in aggravation as he sought the words for an appropriate apology in his head.

‘Well…at least you know I enjoy coffee.’

The reply has his eyes snapping open and his head shooting up as he looks at her, seeing her smirking at him playfully, pulling a pen effortlessly from her pocket and settling her coffee on the counter as she reaches out for his hand that was still steadying himself on the counter. The second her skin touched his it was like he’d been branded with her mark, the way she gripped his palm so lightly as she flickered her eyes up to ask if it was okay before making to write on his hand stunning him with its feather-light weight.

The numbers searing their way into the flesh of his palm were irrelevant compared to the compartmentalization his mind was doing as he stored the digits at the forefront of his mind, disregarding the schedule for his day tomorrow and the reminder to call his manager later that night in favor of forcing himself to remember the numbers.

She watched the way he closed his fingers over his palm once she was done, flickering her eyes up to his with a smile at the tenderness of the act before she slid the pen back into her pocket and reached out for her coffee once more.

‘I need to get home. But I hope you’re being serious….-about the coffee that is.’ She murmurs, her eyes not shifting once from his as she slowly shuffles backwards, her departure imminent, and the movement tugs at his chest, demanding that he follow her.

However, even as the delirious thoughts in his head encourage him to go with her, a shout from Jimin at the back of the room reminds him that reality wasn’t so flexible, and so just as he makes to confess all definitions of love that his heart wanted to profess to her, he simply beams goofily at her, nodding over-zealously as she grins back at him, covering her mouth at the last minute as though she had to hide her celestial-like joy from him, before turning and walking out of the door.

And then she was gone.

‘Namjoon-hyung! Was that a friend of yours?’

The innocence in Jimin’s question made Namjoon want to grin idiotically as he leant back against the counter, turning to look at his friend before throwing an arm over his shoulders and pulling him back towards the others, all of whom were looking at him curiously, yet all of the stares, no matter how deeply they pierced into him, nagging for questions, could take away from how exhilarated he was as he answered him.

‘You could say something like that, Jimin.’

(T.B.C)

[kookiebunnii]

mono.

Autumn had a weird way of sneaking up on you. This morning, you happened to step outside your door to face an immediate ambush by freezing winds and swirling orange leaves. It was definitely a shock to the bright sun you were used to these days, but a welcome one. These days, you were always tired and melancholy-- so the fact that the weather was changing to reflect that couldn't be called a bad thing honestly. Today, you chose to dress relatively plainly. Nothing about your caramel overcoat or black cap called attention, and you were grateful for that. It was your free day today, and you wanted to spend it alone and de-stress. In your backpack, you carried a sketchbook and a notepad with your favorite array of pencils. The plan for the day was to hop on a bus, pick a stop, and explore. Along the way, you'd find a cafe or park bench to settle down and just observe. This practice became somewhat of a habit, because you felt that getting out of your head was becoming an increasingly nagging need recently. There weren't many people at the bus stop, since you had picked a time where the buses just began to run for the morning. As you glanced at the people next to you, you watched as a businessman straightened his tie before giving pointed glares at his wristwatch with growing impatience. In seemingly direct contrast, an elderly woman gives you a serene smile while clutching an array of bags, seemingly in an effort to be one of the first customers at the local farmers' market. Witnessing all this, it made you wonder at the amount of lives in world, all running in different directions, crossing paths, running parallel but never to touch, or being cut short at the end of a journey. Within your lifetime, you couldn't even hope to know the path of a single percent of earth's occupants entirely, let alone comprehend your own with clarity. After all, you knew who you were, you were [FullName], [Age] years young with an affinity for taking random walks and documenting interesting things you saw. But could you honestly say you knew yourself? That you loved yourself? The answer failed to manifest on your tongue, so you swallowed and pulled out your phone. As you slipped your earbuds into their familiar home to rest within your ears, you selected RM's mono playlist and set it to repeat. This collection of seven songs was recently released, and as you listened carefully, you couldn't help but feel that the melodies encapsulated your recent moods perfectly. Especially on a quiet, thoughtful day such as this, BTS's leader had outdone himself again. As the sound of trains and sad piano notes filled your head, you couldn't help but consider Namjoon's talent once again. You remembered his energy, filling and expanding the whole stadium when you attended one of BTS's concerts a few weeks ago. There was no doubt that he was a leader, a man who knew a lot more than what he chose to show publicly, and an artist who was quite literally bursting at the seams with songs the world needed to hear. His bright smiles, energetic dancing, and genuine appreciation for ARMY never ceased to amaze you. Although it hurt to see diminished cheering when RM appeared across the screens, you found solace in watching his dedicated and informative vlives and listening to his lyrical genius spread throughout BTS's many albums. However, you almost felt a shift in your heart when he released mono, amidst a world tour nonetheless! He was truly opening himself up and speaking himself. It was so raw and so real that it made you wish for nothing more than the ability to tell him, in person, how amazing he was and how loved he was. You were going through a tough time right around the time of the playlist release, and he had quite literally saved you. The bus arrived, the strong scent of gasoline and loud screeching of its wheels bringing you out of your little stupor. You gave the bus driver a smile and a nod before heading to the back of the bus and looking outside the window at the lazy, crawling streets. This time, as the same businessman from earlier also boarded your bus, he was angrily conversing over the phone. "Do you know who I am?" he shouted, face tinged red before quieting down after noticing the way passengers stared. In a daze, your fingers automatically moved towards pulling your notebook out and reaching for a pencil in the depths on your backpack. 'Do you know who I am,' you quickly scrawled on the empty page before hesitating and skipping to the line underneath it to add, 'Do I know who I am? Because I don't, so much so that my meaning can't be found within or outside of me.' You stared emptily at these words before turning the page over so you wouldn't have to look at them anymore. The bus was beginning its movement now, so you settled for enjoying "seoul" in silence. As the third song of the list ended with finality, you exited the bus along with a crowd of others. Everyone quickly hurried off to their known destinations, leaving you behind to take in your surroundings. You weren't entirely sure if you had been to this part of town before, but you were sure you wouldn't get lost as long as you had your phone handy. Within a few steps, you caught sight of a park filled with heavy-breathing runners and small families feeding ducks in the pond. Crossing the street immediately, you hurried over as puffs of air emitted from your mouth before disappearing in the cool air. You loved the way the leaves almost seemed to change color against the bark from the trees. As a particularly energetic toddler rushes past you to chase a fearful duckling, you smiled and sat down against a large and worn tree across the water. Although the boy fails to capture his prey, he seems to have thoroughly enjoyed the chase as he runs happily back to his parents with open arms. The father raises the child into the air with a shout before settling his son on his broad shoulders and having the petite arm of his wife looping around his own. The family of three walks away from you and you watch, unashamed, as the woman rests her head on him in content. Your pencil scratches against the smooth surface of the paper as you document the boy and duck chase, making sure to highlight his laughter before turning the page to include the silhouette of the family you had just witnessed as their stunted shadows reflect on the pavement below. As "everythingoes" begins, you close your eyes and feel the beginnings of a smile tugging on your lips. A little "dah" escapes you lips with each beat before you open your eyes. A man stands perhaps a few steps away from you, so close to the edge of where land meets water that you fear a single push would have him tumbling in. Perhaps he had been standing there earlier when the family was still present, but this time, you notice him because he is facing you and despite his hat and facemask, his eyes hold your own. As he begins to slowly trudge towards you, the moisture seems to disappear from your mouth in an instant when you realize he looks awfully, awfully, similar to the artist who's voice you're currently enjoying with great enthusiasm. By the time he is standing over you, his tall frame making you feel even smaller with you on the ground, your heart is beating a mile a minute. The hand clutching the pencil shakes against the page, so you tuck the utensil into your pocket. "May I sit here?" Even his voice echoes alongside the one that whispers against your ear, and you couldn't help but think that, against all odds, Kim Namjoon was here. "Sure." You scoot over and watch as he folds his self down, his lanky legs stretching out before him in comparison to your own that are crossed over each other in shyness. Although he is not touching you, his warmth radiates off him in waves. Waves that pulled you in and pushed you out. "What are you listening to?" he asks, lowering his mask to help you hear him better. You'd know that timbre anywhere. "I-It's a new release from one of my favorite artists...a playlist of sorts," you swallow thickly and refuse to make eye contact with the man. "Playlist?" Pulling yourself together, you sighed before replying, "Yeah. It's actually really popular and successful right now. I like to listen to these songs when I need to forget and remember."

"What do you mean by that?" he's looking at you this time, dark eyes holding your own and this time you felt that even if this were all a crazy, wonderful dream-- fate was giving you the chance to say everything you had wanted to say to him. "My mind is always noisy. Throughout my days it becomes filled with the words of others, the accusations from my own thoughts, and the fear spoken by my heart. His work helps quiet that noise and reminds me of simple truths that get buried under my worries."

"What do you think those truths are?"

"That we're all here for a reason. A purpose. In that process of living our lives there's plenty of setbacks, but we are loved. We are strong, we will find who we are and speak ourselves without shame," you bring your pencil back out and scribble on the right corner of the page. He glances at your drawings from earlier before whispering, "I think those are some good truths." As soon as the last word escapes his lips, the sudden downpour greets the two of you with ferocity. The shock of the initial droplets splatters against your scribbles, smearing the lead while running grey rivers across the snow-white canvas. Perhaps his response is quicker than yours, because you find yourself clinging to the side of the blonde-haired boy as he raises his coat over your heads. With one hand grasping your sketchbook and the other twisted into the side of his sweater, you feel your heart beating against your chest as the beginning pitter-patter of raindrops from "forever rain" mixes with those resounding in your surroundings. By the time the two of you duck under the awning of a cafe, you watch as the heavy drops gather at the edge of the awning before crashing into the gathering puddles below. Really, how big of a coincidental cliche is this? "Are you alright?" he asks, taking your shivering form in with a concern genuine and it warms you up immediately along with the realization that you were still clinging to him like a lost child. Dropping your hand quickly, you cleared your throat before continuing, "Y-Yeah...but," you shake your wet sketchbook with a dejected smile. He lifts the pages up to regard them closer, brushing your fingertips in the process. "I'm sorry," he apologizes, "But they're still beautiful. It's a concept!"

You laughed, "You didn't make it rain RM, don't worry about it." He regards you with surprise before fidgeting with the band of his black facemask nervously and you bite your lip in frustration that you had let his name slip. You didn't want him to be uncomfortable if he knew you were a fan. He was likely taking a break of his own, and the last thing you wanted to do was make him feel like he needed to return back to RM instead of Namjoon. "Hey." He looks down at you when the word escapes you with a quip, watching you write something quickly in the driest section of the page and tear the whole sheet out of its binding. "This is for you. I'm glad I got to meet you today. I've always wanted to tell you how much respect and appreciation I have for you both as an artist and a person," you offered him a small smile before adding, "I have to go now. But thank you Kim Namjoon, for making this whole world a little brighter with your light." He looks like he has more to say, but as soon as you're certain he has a solid grasp on your drawings, you dash out in the rain with your hood covering your head as the RM in your earbuds sings gently, "forever rain..."

---------- Days have passed since you saw Namjoon, and as much as you've thought about it, you couldn't help but think it might have been a case of mistaken identity. In all honesty, what were the chances? Besides, you'd probably left a terrible impression anyways by giving him some ruined scribbles and a weird note. Scrolling through Twitter with a spoonful of cereal, you gasped and almost dropped your phone into your bowl of milk. Your couldn't help the tears falling silently down your face as you saw your own water-damaged picture looking back at you along with a note written in your messy handwriting. Simply, but warmly, the caption read, 'moonchild, you are the reason for my light.' a/n-- i decided to leave the note up to imagination, since i’m sure the things we’d want to say are different for everyone :-) i love “mono” so much i couldn’t help but write this even with a midterm in 12 hours so i really hope you all enjoy this!!

[grapehyasynth]

Summer Secret -- Chapter 2

Read from the beginning here!

In the afternoon Fitz and the Simmonses and their guests sat outside for tea and biscuits and fresh fruit from the market stand just down the way. Jemma had spent most of the day since hide-and-seek in the excruciating limbo between wanting to act normal, which would mean being within a foot of Fitz at all times, and not feeling normal at all. She felt like a spotlight was following them about. Surely everyone else would notice how they kept glancing at each other, mouths open to start a conversation, then blushing and looking a way, falling over themselves to get distance that they couldn’t seem to maintain for more than a few minutes away before drifting inexorably back towards each other. In this way nothing had changed, it all was normal – except now proximity meant yearning to face what she’d felt in the closet and distance meant a steady ache of wanting to be closer.

Though truthfully, she now felt that ache even when he was right beside her.

The important thing, at this moment, was to maintain the charade. Yes, certainly, she became a little breathless when she saw the curve of Fitz’s neck into his shoulder as it disappeared beneath his collar, but they didn’t need to know that. Not now, when she hadn’t even had a chance to broach the subject with Fitz, and possibly not ever.

All this to say, Jemma was more than a bit flustered when she returned from the washroom to find all the chairs at the picnic table already occupied.

Fitz, of course, immediately registered the source of her distress and rose. “Oh—”

Some of the smaller cousins were already sharing chairs, so she couldn’t exactly ask them to budge up. Unfortunately, Uncle Robbie had had a similar idea.

“Why don’t you just sit on Fitz’s lap, Jemma?” he suggested, his jocular grin leaving no doubt that that seating situation would not be interpreted innocently.

“Oh, I don’t think—” Jemma spluttered. “I couldn’t—”

“I’ll just—” Fitz tried to step aside to offer her his chair and tripped over its legs, barely catching himself on the back of Jemma’s father’s chair.

“Robbie,” chided Jemma’s mother. “Leo and Jemma are just friends.”

“Best friends,” Jemma corrected, out of habit, only realizing when everyone started laughing that Fitz had same the same thing. She caught his eye and flushed, but her fingertips tingled at the way he looked back at her.

“What’s so funny?” Maisie squeaked from where she’d squished in between her brothers. Jemma dared everyone, with a glower, to answer the question.

“I’ll get another chair,” Fitz mumbled, and he hurried past her towards the house. Jemma considered following him – it’d be their first moment alone since the closet – but at this point it would look too obvious.

So she sunk into his abandoned seat and focused on keeping her mouth full of strawberries so no one could involve her in the conversation.

Throughout the teatime, Jemma watched Fitz furtively over the rim of her mug. He was as quiet as she was, so she couldn’t study him under the pretense of listening to his contributions to the rapid jokes and occasional arguments around them. He was moving the remains of his fruit around on his place with a fork, his fingers curled elegantly around the utensil. His tongue protruded slightly as he focused on drawing some pattern in the juices. Jemma could just see a dusting of biscuit crumbs at the corner of his mouth, just next to the inviting pink of his tongue. She wished he’d lick it away. Or better yet, maybe she—

He glanced up at her suddenly, tongue curling over his bottom lip and drawing it between his teeth, and she choked on her tea.

She was saved from further ruin by the sudden opening of the skies above them. Fitz had warned them that a Scottish summer was as unpredictable as an English one, and today the weather seemed determined to finally live up to its reputation.

The various members of the party laughed and screamed as the rain hit them. Amidst confused shouting, everyone gathered up the nearest items from the table and the cushions from the chairs and ran back to the house.

“Is that everything?” Jemma panted, shimmying a bit to get off the excess drops after she’d handed her dad the last dirty dishes.

“I think s—oh, where’s Maisie got to?” her mum sighed, glancing around and doing a quick headcount.

Jemma ran back into the downpour, but through the heavy grey sheets she could see Fitz ahead of her, jogging across the lawn. Maisie was spinning in a circle, heedless of the mud accumulating on her new shoes, head back as she beamed up at the sky. Fitz swooped her up and brought her back in.

“Silly Maisie, you can drown looking up in a thunderstorm,” Fitz scolded as he set the little girl down in the tiny back hallway. He knelt to help her off with her shoes and her sodden sweater.

“I think that’s turkeys,” Jemma chuckled. Fitz threw her a half-grin.

“Soon there’ll be puddles!” Maisie cried, and without the remotest segue she stomped away (as if already traipsing through the after-storm delights) between their legs towards the voices from the other rooms. “Puddles, puddles, puddles…”

Fitz straightened, wiping his hands on his jeans, still smiling. Jemma couldn’t help but mirror him. Without thinking, forgetting the burning electricity that had been making her a mess all day, she reached out to brush the droplets from his thin beard.  

Fitz looked down at her hand and she froze. The air around them in the back hall was humid with the moisture and heat rising from their bodies; it felt thick and viscous and conductive. Fitz was still breathing quickly from nabbing Maisie, and his drenched t-shirt left very little un-imagined. The rain pounded on the patio past the still-open door, muffling the voices of the others in the house, nearly convincing Jemma they were alone.

She let her hand fall back without touching him. But Fitz, his gaze strangely intent, raised his own hand to her cheek, where he peeled away a sodden strand of hair that had become stuck to her skin and tucked it behind her ear. It was a bit silly, fixing that one tendril when she must look like Medusa, she thought, even as she felt his fingertips skate over her ear, even as she tipped towards him, even as she thought – no, she saw – he tipped towards her as well.

“Jemma! Fitz!” her dad called, a second before he rounded the doorframe. Jemma wasn’t totally able to stop her momentum, even as she tried to move past Fitz instead of into him, and her nose collided with his shoulder. “We’re to watch Teddy’s last recital before we crack out the board games, full attendance required. Your nose alright, dear?”

When they arrived in the living room, Fitz and Jemma (who was still holding a hand gingerly to her sore nose) found all the seats occupied.

“Here you are!” Uncle Robbie beamed, popping up off the middle cushion of the sofa and taking the arm instead. “You’re both rather petite, as it were, sure that’s enough space for you.”

Afraid to make yet another fuss and call attention to the situation, which prior to the closet would hardly have been an issue, Jemma squeezed into the proffered seat, making herself as small as possible, which wasn’t saying much as there wasn’t really any way to go about shrinking her hips or shoulders. Fitz hesitated before following her in. The cushion dipped beneath them, tipping their bodies towards each other so their thighs were flush.

Uncle Robbie looked happier than Christmas morning.

Jemma didn’t catch a moment of Teddy’s recital. She gazed fuzzily at the screen, recognizing that her cousin and other vague forms were moving about there, but every bit of her was oriented towards Fitz. She’d folded her arms, then clutched her hands in her lap, then clasped her knees. What did she normally do with her hands?? Ordinarily she’d have tucked her legs up underneath her, not caring if they spilled over a bit onto Fitz’s lap, but that somehow seemed too intimate of a sudden. She could feel Fitz’s leg trembling slightly and was tempted to lay a hand on it, to calm him, to soothe herself.

There was a flurry of excitement about ten minutes in, when Teddy had a solo (or so Jemma gathered, hazily), and as the rest of the family laughed and clapped and looked around at Teddy, Fitz cleared his throat and extended his arms across the back of the sofa. The brush of his fingers against her bare shoulder was electric, erotic, sinful – surely everyone could see her whole body reacting – she couldn’t look at him, not with his jawline that close, so she glanced down instead, just to be sure her, em, appreciation of his touch wasn’t showing through her shirt—

What was he thinking, honestly? Not that she minded, but if he felt as she did – and, since the charged moment just then in the hallway, she couldn’t deny that her fledgling hope had bloomed into a burning certainty that he did – he’d need to get on board with remaining covert around the others. They couldn’t start a romantic liaison during a viewing of a child’s recital – it was simply improper. Even if she was of half a mind to trace the back of his ankle with her toe.

   Jemma drank well on several pints of water at dinner, just to be sure she had a proper excuse to keep getting up in the night. Each time, someone was still in the kitchen, or chatting in the dark of the living room by the stairs, or bumping into her in front of the loo. She’d hoped for the dampening cover of the rain on the roof, but that had petered out, and she could only rely on the silence and stillness of sleep to make her excursion.

She’d considered, several times, changing out of her pajamas. But then, it’d look weird, wouldn’t it, showing up in the middle of the night fully-dressed. Like a kidnapper, or something. Besides, if Fitz doesn’t find me attractive in my pajamas – I’ll just have to take them off.

What am I to say? she wondered, as she finally tiptoed up the stairs, listening for the barest stir from her sleeping family. ‘I like the feeling of every part of your body on every part of mine?’ Genuine Casanova, you are, Jemma Simmons.

She nearly banged her head on the low rafters of the tiny attic space. Maybe that’s why Fitz had seemed so responsive to her today: he’d clearly been concussed. She thought about turning around again, but a soft sleepy noise came from the cot at the end of the room and her heart dragged her towards it.

There was no window up here, so Jemma felt her way towards the cot until she tripped over it and fell onto her bum somewhere near Fitz’s knees. He gasped and jerked awake; Jemma fumbled for his face and, finding it (“Sorry!” she whispered as she poked his eye), pressed a hand over his mouth. His lips parted in surprise and she felt them brush over her palm, his breath cool on her tingling skin.

“It’s me,” she whispered. “I can’t turn on the light – everyone down below would see. And we can’t speak up either, or they’ll hear. This cottage is minuscule.”

She felt him nod slightly, and then his fingers found hers, loosening her hold and bringing their hands away from his lips. Her eyes could just see his outline, but it was still so dark that they kept close, hands on elbows and shoulders and hips as they tried to orient themselves to the other.

“Everything okay?” he asked, speaking at last, voice raspy and deep from sleep.

Jemma nodded, then remembered he might not pick up on that in the dark and instead squeezed his elbow and whispered, “Yes, completely okay. I just – I thought we should talk. Without the others barging in.”

“Right.” His thumb was tracing distractingly over her hip. “About the – about earlier?”

“Yes,” she breathed, then felt foolish and blushed, grateful for the lack of light. She’d wanted to be confident about this. “I know it’s – I know it’s silly, to presume that anything has changed – we’ve been friends for six years now, after all, why would it – now – and maybe it’s just the summer and Scotland and finally having a break from the endless work at SciOps—”

“I don’t think it’s just anything,” Fitz murmured.

“Nor do I,” Jemma whispered in relief. “I think it’s – it’s rather brilliant, actually.”

“You do?”

For the first time, Jemma recognized the nerves tingeing his voice. She could’ve laughed that he, of all people -- with his mind she wanted to climb into and his eyes she wanted to swim in and his arms she always knew would hold her – should be afraid of her rejection.

“Of course I do. You’re already the most important person in my life and I – well, if you don’t feel the same way you should just go back to sleep and pretend this has all been an odd dream, but I – I find I’ve gone from wanting to spend every waking moment with you to wanting to spend every waking moment snogging you and that’s bewildering and perhaps inappropriate but really quite lovely and—”

The dark didn’t hinder him from finding her. Before she could even work out where she was going next with her ramble, his hand was twined in her hair and his arm was around her back and he was kissing her, kissing her properly and fiercely, as she’d never even dreamed of being kissed.

( @nodestiel2 here’s your tag!)

[bambyeol]

Downpour final part

pairing/s: park jihoon x oc,  (ft. park woojin) genre : angst, drama, hanahaki disease

Hanahaki Disease: the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one sided love. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim’s romantic feelings for the other also disappear.

FINAL PART  so I beg you please to read the previous parts (if you still haven’t) before proceeding or else you wouldn’t feel the feels as much  (｡╯︵╰｡) and just so everything would make sense   (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟヽ(・∀・)ﾉ   Also, apparently there were some texts that could not be seen in mobile view so I re-edited the final part. Sorry for the inconvenience TT_TT

PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3 //  

masterlist for other fanfics

Park Jihoon, at the age of 19 lost his dream

The car crash injured his body severely that he wouldn’t be able to dance like before, so he was advised to stop aiming to become an idol. He listened to the doctor with an understanding smile and quit his agency after.

A few months later when the deadlines for the universities were closing in, he submitted a form filled neatly with college courses. He wanted to take Film, he explained to Riseul. It was the closest that he’ll ever get in the industry, and he’ll just devote all his love to dancing there.

At the age of 19, Riseul learned of real heartbreak.

It was seeing her best friend pick up the broken pieces of his life with the hopes of piecing it all back, but seeing him fail miserably despite his smile.  Just as Jihoon had perfect timing, so did Riseul. Always. It was her who found Jihoon, 2 in the morning slumped in the park crying, cursing the world as to why it was him. It was her who promised Jihoon that she’ll carry on his dream and dedicate her first song to him. It was her who sang to him when things just got too tough for a young man to handle. It was her who picked up all the broken pieces even if it badly pierced and wounded her soul. 

Because she believed that it was her fault, and that this was her own form of love. 

That night, there was a sudden downpour and they ran to seek shelter. She looked at him carefully, and began piecing the melody of their first meeting.

“You still sing that song?” he asked while looking at the rain.  “You complimented me back then in elementary. You helped me complete the lyrics back in middle school and you were with me when they held the audition for the agency. You held my hand when it was shaking so bad that I cannot even hold the microphone... Honestly, it’s my favorite song,” so she continued humming, even if the song was dwindled by the rain. 

(please loop this video before you begin reading the next parts because I don’t know if one run can suffice for the next parts)

“This foolishly regret-filled song I hope it reaches the sky My prayer that spent all night in tears I hope it reaches your heart”

The heart monitor beeped, and Riseul regained her sense of touch. It was cold in the room, and when she opened her eyes everything was white. The room was white. The bed was white, and even her skin managed to transform to pale white. Ah, so she was hospitalized.

Beside her was Woojin sleeping soundly. She ruffled his hair and was immediately filled with comfort. She really does love Woojin - that she understood. But Park Jihoon was a storm and a spell of destruction.

And now, she’s captured. “You’re awake,” Woojin held her hand and kissed it while smiling softly. “It’s okay,” “I love you,” Riseul managed to say softly even if it just sounded like a gust of the wind because of the softness and hoarseness of her voice. Woojin nodded knowingly.  “I know. You wouldn’t have avoided me trying to hide everything if you didn’t. I’ll call Jihoon,” but she firmly touched his hand and shook her head. Woojin looked at her for a second, and patted her head. “I don’t want a repeat of what happened with Jihoon, please. I explained it to him already,”

“About?”

“Everything. About the accident and everything he has forgotten,”

“Oh.” her hands tensed and Woojin rubbed her knuckles trying to ease the tension. 

“That day, you said that the blame was yours to take, but I need to take some of it from you. I knew about Jihoon’s condition, you know. He told me that he liked you, but we were dating so he took a step back, and honestly, it relieved me because if he wanted to take you away... he could. The two of you always had a bond and shared a connection like no other...” 

No matter how her whole body ached and how everything seemed like blurring away, Woojin’s words were crystal clear.  “I knew this was going to happen anyway, but now I’m wishing that this day happened when he got crashed by a car , so I wouldn’t see you like this now.” he smiled sadly and slowly she felt his hold loosening.  “It’s okay. I love you. Always. Just as I know that you will always love me. I’m just... I’ve reached the end of my time with you? And the time I stole from Jihoon, I’m going to return it now,” and he kissed her forehead, and placed their foreheads together, their breathing matching and heartbeats beating as one... for the last time. 

He let go of her and turned away to call Jihoon. 

Jihoon stepped in, his lips pressed into a thin line, and it was awkward. Her heart felt like it would explode any minute. She didn’t know what to say, or what to even think about.

“That didn’t count back then,” Jihoon began his gaze directed at her, and it unnerved her.

“What?”

“I don’t remember it. Even now, despite all the explanations. Nothing is coming back. So, it doesn’t count. The me back then wasn’t in love with you,”

She stared at him, dazed. She knew Jihoon always had a thinking that weren’t normal at times. He was always finding loopholes in every argument, but for him to be like that now.. She didn’t know what to do.

“I’m telling you that you have a chance at me,”

���That’s not how things work,”

“Well, that’s what I’m telling my body. It doesn’t count,”

She scratched her head trying to deal with Jihoon. The flowers were there again, and having memorized the taste of them, it didn’t bother her anymore. It tasted like metal that was being melted and slowly burns her throat.

“The doctor said that you have one week until you’ll be undergoing the surgery. “

She noticed that he was once again wearing the pink sweater with daisies. She wanted to punch how insensitive he was that it felt like he was mocking her. Apart from the fact that he just seemed so bright at that moment.

“I hate your sweater,” she weakly told him. He smiled.

“I love you, too,”  

“3 years ago, you were in accident remember?” Woojin started. Jihoon nodded, unsure of where everything was heading. One, Woojin called him telling him that Riseul was rushed to the hospital but he didn’t want to answer why.

They were by the hallway just outside of Riseul’s room, but Woojin strongly urged him not to enter.

“Is that all you can remember?” Jihoon furrowed his eyebrows.

“Of course,”

“You don’t remember that you had the Hanahaki?” Jihoon had the most confused look ever. He knew about the Hanahaki, but it was outrageous to think that he had been afflicted with the disease.  He crossed his arms, “No, I mean everyone acted like the accident was all. So I don’t see why I had the Hanahaki,” irritation was visible in his voice.

He wanted to see Riseul and ask how she was. He didn’t have time for some reminiscing of the past.

He remembered that day when they were at the cafe. Riseul excused herself to proceed to the bathroom and returned looking very pale before immediately asking to go home. He wanted to see her off, but she dismissed him immediately. Jihoon wondered if he did something wrong so he took a step back, and cut their communication before returning to text her about his successful date. “Back then, you lost consciousness because of the Hanahaki. It was bad luck that a car was coming through and hit you,” Woojin replied calmly. Jihoon didn’t like seeing Woojin calm because whenever he did, Jihoon was reminded of how immature he was and how Riseul and Woojin were perfect for each other.

“And, that night, you were struggling to live. The Hanahaki made everything complicated, and the doctors needed to remove it from you, but your mother didn’t want to. All because you weren’t able to confess your feelings,”

“To whom?”

“You’re seriously asking me that?” Woojin looked with disbelief. “You loved Riseul,” 

Jihoon sat on the bench trying to register everything in, but he shook his head in denial. 

“That night, it was Riseul who pushed for the operation. Your mother wanted to know if there was a chance that she liked you, but she didn’t… at that time because we were dating… she said she’ll take the blame for this. For 3 years, she lived with the guilt that she took away everything from you even your dream you know,”

“And now, I don’t know, Jihoon. I want you to save her. She has the Hanahaki. She likes you. She loves you so bad that I can’t save her. If you can’t save her heart, I’m begging you to save her voice. God damn it,” Woojin punched the wall in anger and grief and left to enter the room of Riseul where Jihoon caught a glimpse of her looking more tired than ever.

“You’re still here?” Riseul asked weakly. The visiting hours were almost over. 

Jihoon nodded, “I’ve got 7 days to be with you, I’m not wasting it. I’ve already lost 3 years,”

“I’m sorry,” she said and rested her hand on Jihoon’s hair. He didn’t like his hair to be touched, but now she was freely ruffling it and patting it. “I took it away. Your dream and your feelings without even hearing it from you,”

“You did,” and he looked at her with a smile that sent all flowers to multiply inside her chest. She didn’t know how she managed to not even throw up. “That’s why listen to me now,”

“I’m listening,” 

“It doesn’t count. Believe me. I’m falling for you little by little now,”

“Park Jihoon is a liar. You told me that I wouldn’t have bad dreams when I slept in your bed,”

“I did. Must be because I wanted to hug you and comfort you deep inside,”

“You’re seriously wooing me at a hospital?” 

“Not necessarily, I already have your love, remember? I’m just asking you to give me back my feelings for you.... so stop blaming yourself about the past,”

“I’ve been telling that to myself for 3 years, you know that maybe I didn’t do anything wrong, but it doesn’t work,” she smiled sadly and lifted her hands and rested it on her stomach. 

“If there’s one good thing that came out of that car crash, you know what? It would be the fact that I forgot about the Hanahaki. Technically, I didn’t have it which means that the emotions are all still here,” Jihoon pointed to his chest. “The human mind works wonders, and so I’ll save you just as you always do to me,”  “You’re betting so much,” 

“I guess even back then... Maybe I’ve been saving it up all for now. I discovered another dream within me, and in exchange I’m  being given a chance now.. It wasn’t such a bad deal after all,” 

If there was something Park Jihoon was good at, it was convincing people.

“Convince me,” Riseul told him, and he nodded before he left because visiting hours were over.

It has been the third day since she was admitted to the hospital. The flowers were still there, and she had lost all fear looking at them. She even pressed one to become a bookmark. It was such a pretty flower, and she patted her back.

She knew her aesthetics.

“What’s that?” Jihoon entered the room. He was visiting her religiously, and though he often came with Woojin, today, he was alone. 

“Windflowers,” she replied with a soft smile.

“There’s a garden inside you now?” he joked and she punched his arm. “I’m quite the botanist, I say,” she retorted but felt tired soon after. Jihoon was busy fumbling through his phone and she closed her eyes.

“It has a nice meaning. Luck, protection and arrival of spring,” and her cheeks flushed. Blush is the only thing that gives her pale face a color now.

“What was my flower for you?” he asked innocently.

“Alstroemeria.  It means holding your friends close and showing how you cherish them. Chase your dreams and don’t give up on them,”

“Fits you,” he replied softly. 

It hurt a little.

Holding your friends close.

Nothing would change. Why was she hoping, again?

Her breath hitched and she clenched her shirt, and pinched her chest. Jihoon held her and rested her head on his chest. It was beating so loud that it silenced her own heart.

He felt warm to touch and didn’t want to let go so she rested her head there. Soon, he began humming their old tune. Perhaps that was their very first connection that led to them forging many more.

“You know, it’s okay. If you forget about me,”

Her eyes widened, and tears started.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated and repeated until her voice was dry, and blood drip from her mouth. 

“It’s going to be alright. I’m sure. We’ll still stay together. That’s why... Don’t be scared, okay? I’ll be there.”

She nodded and cried for hours while Jihoon rubbed her back and repeatedly saying it was okay.

Last four days...

Park Jihoon knew of the girl who went by the name of Bae Riseul. She was a shy girl who had a hard time communicating her feelings to others. But often, he’d catch a glimpse of her humming something.

Park Woojin was the first to get to know her. She has a nice smile. Soon, they became closer, but he knew that she liked Woojin better. Often, he wondered how he could be like Woojin.

But one day, he saw her singing, and he got so mesmerized that he watched until the end. He knew she had a talent in singing, but he always brushed them off because he knew she didn’t like to be invaded in her own space. But now, he wanted to enter that space.

“I like your voice. What song is that? Teach me?”

And he liked the comfortable space he shared with Riseul which was why it didn’t matter if she liked Woojin. It was something they shared. Only the two of them.

It wasn’t until Park Jihoon was 18 that he wanted to be more, and he hated himself for it because it meant that it would shift the balance of their friendship, so he took a step back, but the further he stepped back, the more his feelings grew. 

And one day, he woke up, with flowers laying beside him.

At age 19, Park Jihoon had an accident, but he remembered that he wanted to tell Riseul something... though he didn’t know what exactly. That’s why he felt so happy when he saw Riseul by the doorway.

“Riseul !” he called out happily unsure why.

At age 21, there was a fear inside Jihoon that he couldn’t understand. It awakens whenever he saw Riseul. The fear dissipated when Riseul broke up with Woojin. And he hated himself for it.

So he tried to blind date. It worked well, honestly. He felt slight attraction to the girl, but it stopped when he received a call from Woojin saying that Riseul was rushed to the hospital. It felt like his whole world stopped. 

He wanted to see her immediately, he didn’t know why.

It was midnight of day 6, and Riseul was talking to Jihoon over the phone. She asked him to sing her something, so he sang the song that the two of them composed.

(please watch the video and read the lyrics because it fits so well with Downpour that I just had to do this) 

She slept right after, and dreamed that everything was okay. 

The next day, Jihoon held her hand tightly.

“Jihoon?” he nodded.

“I love you,” he was about to mouth off something but she hushed him. 

“Save that when I tell you I love you again,” she smiled and patted his head before he leaned for a quick kiss on her forehead.

”See you later,” he said and watched her fall into slumber as they injected the anesthesia.

This foolishly regret-filled song I hope it reaches the sky My prayer that spent all night in tears I hope it reaches your heart

“Are we late?” a man asked Riseul.

“In 30 minutes or so,” she replied, and they held their hands together.

“You’re the best man, huh. Don’t break down in there, alright?” she teased as she rested her head on his shoulder.

“You’re also going to give your message, you know. And who was it who always cried whenever we were having chick flick marathons?” she rolled her eyes. They entered the church. They weren’t late, and over the distance Daewhi waved his hand motioning for them to come and sit. Jinyoung was there too beside him and she smiled because the two finally ended up together.

The ceremony was soon over and she was called over to give her message, and sing a song to the couple. Before she stood up, she leaned over to whisper something to his ear. 

“I’m sorry for making you wait,” he looked at her confused, but she just smiled before proceeding to the stage.

“Before I begin, I want to say that I’m offering this song for the couple of the night, but at the same time, I would sing this song for him,” and she pointed to a surprised man.

Fin.

Authors notes: This has been one heck of a ride for me, from the first day that I began conceptualizing for this to the day I managed to finish writing it. I hope that I was able to provide everyone a wonderful story and hope that I managed to make some of you cry, but most of all I hope that I was able to deliver a good ending for this story. 

I wish to hear your feedback regarding the story, but the fact that you read this alone is enough  (≧◡≦) ♡

Thank you for all your support ^O^ . It overwhelmed me when I saw notifications specially since this is the first time I did this. I’m still confused about many things in Tumblr, but I’m working it out as I’m preparing to write more stories and sharing them all with you.

Please look forward to my next works, and here’s a sneak peek of another angsty (?) fic I’m working on titled :The Constants of Constellation

Every person has their constellation tattoo found on their wrist which glows when they have found their fated person... Bae Riseul does not have a constellation on her wrist, but instead has a compass that helps lead others to their fated one hence her nickname of “The Guide” , but her life is thrown into a total disarray when she met Park Jihoon, an enigma, given that he too has no constellation on his wrist and the only person whose Riseul’s compass does not work on..  

I hope you’ll continue to support me. Once again, thank you so much for reading Downpour.  (≧◡≦) ♡  ❤ (ɔˆз(ˆ⌣ˆc)

masterlist for other fanfics

[rememberstilinski]

cold heart killer || stiles stilinski (smut)

word count: 6026

warnings: angst, smut, oral (both receiving)

author’s note: long time no post! so i’m back with a treat of both smut and angst! you’re welcome. i’m honestly not sure how i feel about this one, but i hope you all like it! 

pairing: stiles stilinski / reader

masterlist

coming soon

Nervous fingers drummed on the leather steering wheel as the thunder roared, grey clouds covering the bright California sun. Beacon Hills was due for a storm within the next couple days, but it seemed to be coming sooner than forecasted by the meteorologist on the nine o'clock news. Her car sped down the road to the high school, having gotten a cryptic message from none other than Theo Raeken. Theo was her lab partner for a science project and they would meet up at the school's library when they worked together even if her boyfriend, Stiles Stilinski wasn't a fan of the new addition to the small town they lived in.

 Stiles was the only one who didn't particularly trust Theo and it got on everyone's nerves just a little bit. He’d never been as trusting as everyone else in the pack, even though some of them would have their doubts about people. Although, Stiles was a totally different story. He didn't like anyone, he seemed to think the whole world was against him. It would take awhile for him to warm up meeting new people.

 Earlier that day, a note was in her locker. Messy handwriting that she vaguely remembered was scribbled on the fold paper, her name in black ink. She unfolded the paper and read the message:

Meet me at 8:30 in the library. It's important and you have the right to know.

 -Theo R.

 When she saw the suspicious words on the lined notebook paper, a kaleidoscope of butterflies released in her belly, setting an uneven mood around her. What could Theo Raeken possibly have to tell her that was so important? What did she have ‘the right’ to know? It was confusing and nerve racking.

 Her very clean, white car pulled into the school’s southern parking lot. She park in a spot right next to Theo’s blue truck. She killed the engine. After putting her keys in her small purse and pulling the strap onto her shoulder, she looked to the doors of the school that would lead her through the building, her hands back on the steering wheel. She swallows thickly as a ding sounded from her phone, alerting her and telling her that she had a text message.

 stiles stilinski (7:56pm) : hey are we still on for tonight at your house?

 Grabbing the device from the cup holder, she typed in a ‘yes’ as her response. His reply quickly rolling in afterwards.

 stiles stilinski (7:58 pm) : see you in 30 minutes babygirl ;)

 Smiling at her boyfriend’s response, she bit her lip and opened the car door, getting out and closing the door before walking towards the school library. Her boots tapped against the concrete as she walked. She made her way down the hall, taking a left and was eventually in the seemingly empty library. Pulling her phone out of her back pocket, she checked the time. 8:00 on the dot.

 “Theo? Theo, are you in here?” She whisper yelled. She looked around to see if there was any trace of the boy she was looking for.

 “It's just us, you don't have to be so quiet.” He chuckled, rounding a row of shelves and coming into her sight.

 She smiled softly. “You wanted to talk?” She asked, tilting her head.

 “Yeah, let's go sit down at a table?” He pointed his thumb back to the circular tables in the middle of the room. Nodding, she followed him to their seats. They sat down and she sat her purse on the table.

 “So, what'd you need to talk to me about? Your message was a little perplexing.” She chuckled, Theo not doing the same. “Oh, wow. It's serious.”

 Theo nodded and laced his hands together, setting them on the table and leaving forward in a formal way. “It's about Stiles. It's about you. It's about you and Stiles.”

 She furrowed her eyebrows and put herself in the same position he was in. “Me and Stiles? What about us?”

 “I heard Scott and Stiles talking earlier today. It sounded serious and so I listened to their conversation. I heard Scott ask if Stiles was going to tell you something. Stiles said that you weren't going to find out. I didn't get much out of that conversation, so I went to Liam and he said that Stiles did something when you two started dating.”

 She swallowed nervously. “W-what did he do?”

 “I-I'm so sorry to have to say this-”

 “What did he do, Theo? What did Liam tell you?” She gritted her teeth, her fists clenching. Theo looked down at his hands, playing with his fingers. “Please, just say it. You needed to tell me something, so just say it.”

 “Stiles has been using you.” He admitted, the words spilling from his mouth and making a mess that would later be impossible to clean up. “He was using you to make Lydia jealous. He thought that if she saw you with him that she would go after him and they'd eventually have something.”

 At Theo’s confession, a ringing started to sound in her ears. The butterflies that had been in her stomach all day were multiplied by millions. She got dizzy and felt the need to stand up to keep from passing out as she processed this new information. She cupped her mouth with one hand and put the other on her hip, pacing a short distance.

 “H-he used me? He's been using me? This whole time?” She mumbled, her eyes burning with salty tears. Theo nodded slowly. “Oh my god.” Usually a girlfriend wouldn't believe something as ludicrous as what Theo just told her, but it made sense. She knew how Stiles was. He was someone willing to do anything to get what he wanted. And she didn't know exactly how far he'd go to get the girl he'd been in love with since the third grade.

 Her mind started to spin and she felt sick. “Hey, do you need me to take you home?” He asked, his gentle tone seemingly genuine.

 “Uh, no. I just - I need to go home. I'll, uh, I'll see you on Monday?” She grabbed her purse and made her way out of the building quickly. The thunder from earlier was louder and it was finally raining outside. Hard, warm rain hit her skin as soon as she stepped out into the heavy downpour. The water mixed with the tears that were falling down her face. Her mascara was already beginning to run. Her chest was tightening in knots, her throat getting choked up with a lump that almost burned when she tried to push it back down.

 You know the feeling you get after getting off a rollercoaster? The feeling where you're dizzy, feeling like you're standing still and the whole world around you is spinning at a headache causing pace? That's what she was feeling. She was on a roller coaster of thoughts and emotions. Nothing was comprehensible. She was somewhere else, she was in a different mindset and she felt as if she was losing control.

 Everything she did seemed to have an added weight. Even breathing was seeming like a chore at this point. The feeling of betrayal hitting her and knocking her on her ass with no one there to pick her back up. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she unlocked her car and got in, slamming the door after her. Pulling down the sun visor, she looked in the mirror. The smudged makeup and knotty hair a true reflection of what she felt. Heartbreak. Deceived. Angry. Hurt.

 She closed her eyes and put the sun visor back up, laying her head against the headrest. She squeezed her eyes, a tear falling over her cheekbone as she thought of everything her and Stiles had shared. All the memories. All the beautiful moments. It was all fake. He didn't really care for her. He wanted Lydia, not her. It made sense. Lydia Martin was perfect. She was extremely smart, kind, and beautiful. Everything a boy could ever want. Everything Stiles could ever want.

 A painful sob pushed its way out of the back of her throat. She was still sitting in her car in the parking lot. Starting the car, she pulled out and sped back home. The roads were slippery and she could've crashed if she'd gone any faster. The drive was silent and she needed something to distract her from her thoughts so she turned on the radio, a sad song being the first one she heard. She switched the station, another heartbreaking melody sounding from the speakers. Everytime she turned the channel, a slow, sad song played. Eventually just realizing that silence was a better option, she turned it off completely.

 When she arrived at her home, she pulled into her driveway, her parents’ cars both gone. Probably at work and wouldn't be back until later due to the rain. Turning off the engine, she sat at the front of her house not knowing what to do. The time read 8:27 pm. Stiles would be here for their date soon. Three minutes to be exact. She had three minutes to think of what she wanted to say to him. The three minutes passed quickly. She heard the squeaky brakes of Stiles’ blue jeep and soon he pulled in next to her. The spastic teenage boy looked over at her through the window and grinned, waving excitedly.

 She quickly turned her head away and got out of the car, making her way up the pavement so she could get inside and away from Stiles, ultimately deciding to avoid him all together. His door opened and the sound of his Adidas hitting the concrete as he ran up to her echoed as the rain fell over both of them. “You're going a little fast, you know.” He chuckled, not having realized that something was wrong.

 “Stiles, go home.” She told him, failing to look at him. In all honesty, she couldn't bring herself to look at him. She didn't want to see his face. All she would feel is pain.

 “Woah, what happened?” He asked. After he got no response, he furrowed his eyebrows. “Are you okay, baby?”

 The term of endearment made her snap and she spun on her heel, turning to face him. “Don't call me that.”

 He was taken back at her poisonous tone. “What happened? Did I do something wrong?”

 “Did you do something wrong?” She scoffed. “I was just with Theo. We had a talk.”

 Stiles visibly tensed at the mention of the chimera, his hands formed into fists, knuckles turning white. “What'd you talk about?”

 “You and I. He said that he knew something and I had a right to know.”

 “What did he tell you?” Stiles questioned, his tone nervous, his voice shaky.

 “He told me that you've been using me as leverage to make Lydia jealous.” She sighed, squinting to keep the rain out of her eyes. “Is it true? Please tell me it's not true.” Stiles stayed silent, looking down at his shoes. “I can't believe this is happening right now.”

 “Let me explain myself.” He said quickly, stepping towards her but she backed up a step, keeping the distance.

 “What is there to explain, Stiles?” She exclaimed. “You used me for your own selfish reasons. From the start this has all been a lie.”

 Scott and Stiles watched their strawberry blonde friend stand down the hall with her new boyfriend, in a loving embrace. The sarcastic Stilinski boy slammed his locker shut, an angered expression on his face. Not only did he look angry, but he smelt angry. It was a terrible odor.

 Scott’s face scrunched in disgust as he smelt the waves of jealousy, anger, and envy roll off his best friend. “Stiles, you need to relax. You smell terrible.”

 Stiles rolled his eyes and adjusted the straps of his backpack on his shoulders. “My ten year plan was supposed to work. Even when I stretched it to fifteen, it seemed like I had a shot.”

 “Maybe you need to just let it go. Try to find someone new.”

 Crossing his arms, the sheriff's son pouted. “Yeah, like who?”

 Scott observed the hallway, looking for a girl that seemed to be Stiles’ type. Then he spotted her. The teenager with the uneven jaw nudged his friend, pointing at the girl. “Like her.” Stiles perked up, looking at the familiar girl. He had a few classes with her and she was quiet, kept to herself, but she was actually very smart. The girl’s hair fell in loose waves down her back as she walked down the hall with a friend. Her perfect smile was bright, eyes full of hope and adventure. Her skin was flawless. She wore a plain black t-shirt, jeans, and converse. Nothing too special.

 “I've seen her around before. She doesn't talk to anyone other than her group of friends.”

 “Well maybe she needs someone outgoing like you to bring her out of her shell. Go for it.” Scott smiled encouragingly. He hoped that it might be a step in the right direction for his friend, but Stiles seemed to be thinking something else. Instead of dating her to date her, he thought maybe he could date her to make Lydia Martin jealous and then she would eventually go for him and then they could be together.

 Stiles nodded. “Okay, I'll go talk to her. I could take her to dinner, right?”

 “The fair is in town this weekend!” Scott remembered. “Take her there!” Stiles walked to the girl as she got closer to him and Scott.

 He tapped her shoulder and she turned around with a smile. “Uh, hi?”

 “Hi, I've uh, I've seen you around school a lot and I thought you seemed like an amazing girl, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go to the fair with me this weekend?”

 Her friend poked her. When she looked at her, she subtly shook her head ‘no’, a stern and warning look on her face. “Um, I don't know what my plans are this weekend, could I get back to you on that?”

 Stiles looked down the hallway to see Lydia and her boyfriend. She was laughing and Stiles couldn't ever remember seeing her so happy. His expression faltered and he turned back to the girl and her friend. She noticed that his expression fell and she decided to just give him her answer.

 “You know what? I'll go out with you.” She shrugged. Stiles smirked, his foul plan already setting into motion.

 “Okay, I'll text you?” He asked, receiving a nod in response. “Sounds good, I gotta go, but I'll talk to you later.” He winked and walked back down the hall to get to class.

 The two girls watched the teenage boy walk down the hallway. “Are you seriously going on a date with him?” The girl’s friend nudged her.

 “What he's not so bad?” They started to walk down the hall so they wouldn't be late for class. “He's cute.”

 “I wouldn't go there if I were you.” Her friend mumbled.

 “What? Why not?” She furrowed her eyebrows.

 “From what I've heard, Stiles isn't the best guy. He’ll hurt you, I don't want you to feel that.”

 Smiling, the two friends walked into their class, sitting in their seats. “I'll be fine, I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself.” Before anything else could be said, the bell rang, signaling class was in session.

 “It wasn't all a lie.” Stiles mumbled, looking at her with sad eyes.

 “You know, everyone told me being with you was a bad idea.” She ignored his comment. “That I was going to get hurt. I should've listened to them.”

 “I’m sorry. I was being selfish. I am selfish.” He carefully took a step towards her.

 The new couple walked down the hall, all eyes on them. But it didn't matter. At least not to Stiles because Lydia Martin’s eyes weren't on them. Hers were on her boyfriend. The guy that made Stiles’ stomach twist with anger and jealousy.

 “Hey, are you okay?” She asked as she noticed that Stiles’ jaw was clenched angrily.

 He pulled his eyes away from the strawberry blonde girl and her tall, blonde boyfriend. “Yeah, I'm fine. I was thinking maybe we could go out tonight?” He said as they arrived at her locker.

 She spun the dial around, entering her combination before it clicked open. “Sure, what were you planning?” She smiled brightly. Stiles smiled at her before looking down to his beat up sneakers as he rubbed the back of his neck.

 He grabbed her hand and leaned against the other lockers. His fingers rubbed her smooth skin. “I was thinking maybe you could come over? We could have a movie night?”

 “DC movies?” She offered. Stiles raised an eyebrow in surprise at her choice of movies. He was thinking she'd pick some romantic drama that would end with Stiles falling asleep on the couch and her in tears because one of the lead characters died.

 “Really? I didn't know you were into superhero movies.”

 “There's a lot of things you don't know about me, Stilinski.” She smirked. Stiles smiled at her before he caught sight of the couple he loathed laughing happily down the hallway. Lydia turned and saw Stiles and his new girlfriend. She waved and smiled, shooting him a thumbs up at the beautiful girl he'd been dating for a couple weeks.

 Stiles cupped his girlfriend’s cheek and pulled her lips onto his. Her eyes widened in surprise, but they slowly closed. Her arms snaked around his neck, hands in his hair as he pulled her body into his. His own hands went to her hair, tangling in the long, silky strands. Their lips moved together in perfect harmony. His tongue ran over her bottom lip and she gave him entrance only for him to bite at her lip. A moan coming from her throat vibrated against his lips. She slipped her tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss. The taste of him in her mouth, leaving a sweet, intoxicating taste.

 Someone coughed, causing them to pull away from each other. Her eyes were still closed, red and swollen lips still in a lazy puckered position. Her eyes slowly fluttered open to see Stiles staring down at her, his brown eyes burning into hers. His lips were just as swollen and red, his chest was heaving up and down as he tried to catch his breath.

 “What was that for?” She breathed out.

 The teenage boy shrugged, the corners of his pink lips tugging up as he pushed a strand of hair out of her face. “I just thought you looked beautiful. It almost felt wrong to not kiss you.”

 “Well, that was intense, Stilinski.”

 “Don't act like you didn't like it.” He chuckled, thumb rubbing over her cheekbone. “I've got to go meet Scott, but I'll see you tonight?”

 “If there's more of that, then just maybe.” She smoothed down his flannel, buttoning one of the buttons that he'd missed earlier.

 “There's going to be a lot of that. Like a lot.” He assured with a slight smirk.

 She smiled and kissed his cheek. “Then in that case, get on. I'll see you later.”

 “See you later.” He pulled away and walked down the hall, back facing her as she watched him. He breathed out frustratedly.

 It had only been two weeks and he was already in too deep.

 Shaking her head, she let tears roll down her face. “I envy the love you have for her. You were so willing to ruin a person, just so you could have the opportunity of loving her. You were so willing to screw up a person in the worst way possible.”

 “I never meant to hurt you, baby.”

 “You never meant to hurt me? What did you think was going to happen when I found out, Stiles? Did you think I'd be just fine? That I'd get over it?”

 Stiles ran a hand over his face, licking his lips nervously. “Can I say something? Let me just tell you what happened.” She nodded, gesturing for him to talk and say what he had to say. “You changed it. You changed my plan. I don't know how, but you changed everything for me. And I remember exactly when it happened. I remember where we were, what you looked like, what we were doing. It's my most precious memory. You have to believe me.” He begged.

 “When did it change?” She asked. “When did whether or not my heart broke suddenly matter?”

 She groaned in frustration, slamming the book shut and letting her head fall onto her crossed arms. “Stiles, it's useless. I'm never going to understand math. I hate math.”

 “I know, you've said that every five minutes this whole night.” Stiles chuckled.

 “With a burning passion.”

 “Come on, have a good attitude about it and you'll succeed!”

 She lifted her head and rolled her eyes at him. “Why are you so positive?”

 “I don't know, but it makes me charming doesn't it.” He smirked.

 “Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say.” She leaned in and kissed his lips gently. His hand found its way onto her hip and he turned to lay in his back, pulling her onto him so she was straddling him. She used her hands to hold her up as the two deepened the kiss. Even though Stiles wasn't in the relationship for her, he still liked the attention and the way being in a relationship felt. He also genuinely enjoyed her company; she had a great sense of humor, she had a heart of gold, she was beyond smart, and she was oh so beautiful. She was the kind of girl Stiles could feel himself fall for.

 Stiles sighed through his nose, running his fingers up her back. “We still have to study.” He whispered against her mouth as their lips continued moving. “You can't fail that test, baby.”

 “Maybe I just need some inspiration?” She tilted her head back as her boyfriend planted wet, open mouthed kisses on the column of her throat. His cold hands went underneath her shirt, putting them back on her hips and rubbing small circles, giving her goosebumps. She took the hint and pulled away, lifting up the piece of clothing and pulling it over her head, throwing on the floor behind Stiles. He looked at her in awe, mouth parted as he admired her in all her glory.

 “I-I don't want to pressure you into something you don't want.” He whispered. “I know that you're still a virgin. I want you to know that's not why I'm here.” As the last sentence left his mouth, he couldn't help but feel dirty. He wasn't here for sex and he wasn't exactly here for her either. Doing this would make him feel like a monster. He was taking away the most beautiful part of her; her purity.

 She smiled softly, stroking his high cheekbones with her thumb. “I want this. And I want my first time to be with you.” She mumbled, pecking his lips. “I trust you, Stiles.”

 “I'll be gentle, don't worry.” He said, pushing a piece of her hair back behind her ear and out of her face. He leaned up and kissed her bottom lip before fully molding them together. Stiles changed their position, laying her on her back. He pulled off his white t-shirt and threw it on the floor. She leaned on her elbows, looking up at him in wonder. Her eyes trailed over the patch of hair on his chest and then down to the patch of hair above the waistband of his boxers.

 Pulling her bottom lip in between her teeth, she pulled the teenage boy onto her, placing her lips on his. His eyes fluttered closed, his long eyelashes tickling her cheek. His lips moved down her neck, her shoulder and over the curve of her breasts. Her hands went to the back of his head, tangling in his brown locks of hair. Stiles sucked a kiss onto her skin, leaving one after another. Purple marks were left on her body. The marks dipped down onto her stomach. When he got to the waistband of her leggings, he hooked his fingers in them and pulled them down her legs teasingly.

 “Stiles, please. Don't tease, I beg of you.” She sighed, eyes closing as he left sweet kisses on her thighs. He smiled against her skin, loving the way her voice was so breathless.

 “Do you want me to touch you?”

 “Please?”

 He kissed the inside of her thighs. “Where do you want me to touch you, baby?”

 Lifting her head, she glared at him. “I think you know where I want you to touch me.” He winked and kept eye contact with her as he pressed a kiss onto her covered core. Her head fell back against the pillow, her hair pulling around her shoulders while her eyes shut. “More, Stiles.”

 Stiles pulled down her panties, revealing her soaked pussy. The arousal dripped down her thighs and landed on his blue comforter, leaving a white stain, but Stiles didn't mind. He brought his middle finger to her entrance and circled around it teasingly while she released breathless moans, eager for any touch he could offer her. He watched her back arch off the bed as he pushed the tip of his finger inside of her, sighs falling from her swollen lips. He wrapped his mouth around her bundle of nerves, something close to a scream ripping from her throat. She'd never felt pleasure like this, so every touch was heightened and sensitive.

 Her hands reached down to the back of his head and she tangled her fingers in his hair. Stiles sucked on her clit and continued pumping his finger in and out of her before adding his ring finger into the mix. She moaned his name, the sound music to Stiles’ ears and doing nothing to help his throbbing cock. Stiles groaned against her core, the sound causing vibrations to roll through her body and goosebumps to appear on her skin. He took out his fingers and shoved his tongue into her entrance, collecting every drip of her he could. He felt her clenching and knew that she was close.

 “Come on, baby. Let it go.” He mumbled while his fingers rubbed clockwise circles on her clit. With a final lick, she released into his mouth. His name constantly spilled from her mouth as she rode through her high. Her release coated his chin as he came back up to look down at her. With her arm over her eyes, she tried catching her breath. “You okay?” He chuckled.

 A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as he laughed. “I'm fantastic, but I need more of you.” She moved her arm and looked at him. He nodded and leaned in to kiss her. The sweet taste of her was still on his lips. The combination of him and her sinfully intoxicating. Her fingers trailed down his torso and to the button of his jeans. His muscles flexed underneath her touch. Continuing their kiss, she unbuttoned his jeans and pulled down the zipper.

 Stiles pulled away and shoved his pants down his waist, kicking them off and pushing them off the bed. He kissed back up her body, his hands going to her back. “Do you mind?” He asked, looking into her sparkling eyes. She shook her head and smiled at him, giving him some reassurance. His fingers found the clasp of her bra and he pulled the straps down her smooth shoulders. He pulled off the garment and tossed it somewhere in the room. He looked down at her bare body, completely amazed by her beauty. “God, you're so beautiful.” He mumbled, causing a pink tint to grow on her cheeks.

 He pushed his boxers off and pulled the drawer of bedside table open, grabbing a condom from inside. He rolled the rubber onto his pulsing cock and lined himself up with her entrance. “You ready?” She nodded and Stiles placed a kiss on her forehead. He laced their fingers together on the pillow above her head. He slowly eased himself into her tight pussy. He groaned at the feeling of her walls automatically clenching around him. She gasped at the feeling of him being inside of her.

 He stayed still, not wanting to hurt her even though tears were already spilling from her eyes at the pressure. His long fingers wiped them off of her face. “I'm sorry, I'm trying hard to not hurt you.”

 “It's okay, Stiles. You can move now.” She nodded. Stiles as he was told and pulled out slowly, then pushed back in at a gentle pace. His movements elicited a string of moans from the both of them. He slammed his lips down to hers in a passionate kiss, drunk on the way she felt, the way she tasted, just every single aspect of her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into her as he continued hitting all the right spots inside of her. She pulled her hand out of his and wrapped her arms underneath his shoulders, leaving long, red scratches as Stiles began to pick up his pace.

 Stiles leaned his forehead against hers, looking over her face while her eyes stayed closed. His hot, minty breath hit her face as he continued his thrusts. “Would you mind if I went faster?” He whispered. She shook her head and waited for him to pick up his speed. He drove into her faster and harder, the need to release unbearable for the both of them.

 With a sudden burst of energy, she pushed him off of her, his body rolling to the other side of the bed. She crawled on top of him so she was straddling him. She sunk back down on him and moaned, rolling her hips into his. Her hands laid on his chest as she kept herself steady. Stiles’ hands gripped her hips, helping her keep her pace. “Are you sure you're a virgin?”

 She chuckled and smiled down at him while she continued grinding against him. “I'm sure.”

 “I don't believe you, you're amazing at this.” He groaned while his eyes slipped shut. She continued bouncing on him, the coil in her stomach ready to snap.

 “I-I think I'm almost there.”

 He looked up at her, lifting his hips to slam into her. “Come for me baby. Come all over my cock.” He brought his hands to her sensitive clit and rubbed furiously. Her continuous clenches on his dick were followed by her release. Her toes curled and her body tensed when she climaxed. Her orgasm spurred on Stiles’, his hot seed shot into the condom and milked everything he had to give. Once both of their highs were rode out, her body collapsed next to his. She laid her head on his shoulder and placed the palm of her hand over his pounding heartbeat.

 “How do you feel?” He whispered as began to run his fingers through her hair. He felt his heart start to slow down at the serenity feeling he had. She cuddled into his side, smiling against his skin as he spoke.

 “I feel great.” She looked up at him and kissed his lips softly, her fingers brushing over the moles on the side of his face. “Thank you, Stiles.”

 He smiled against her lips. “I'm your boyfriend. You don't have to thank me.”

 “It wasn't just for the sex. You made me feel… loved.” She mumbled. “You made me feel important and beautiful. That's why I'm saying thank you.”

 Stiles’ smile fell at the seriousness of what she said. She felt loved. She felt more than just teenage hormones eager for some kind of sexual release. Exhausted, she pulled away and laid her head on the pillow next to where Stiles was lying. Her back was exposed and her hair fell over her shoulder. Stiles watched her slowly drift into a peaceful sleep. He pulled the sheets over her small body. He leaned in and nuzzled his nose against hers, placing his warm hand on her lower back. He softly pressed his lips onto hers knowing that she wouldn't kiss back. He kissed her just for the blissful feeling he got when their lips touched.

 That's when he realized it. That's when everything changed for Stiles. When it mattered if she found out what his original intentions with her had been, it would devastate him. It broke his heart to know that he had been so selfish as to hurt her. He couldn't imagine hurting someone so pure and perfect in every way. He couldn't imagine hurting the girl he’d come to feel so strongly about.

 Stiles closed his eyes and sighed. “I love you. Fuck, I love you so much.” He murmured. In that moment he knew that if she found out, she would hate him forever. She would be broken and she would never forgive him.

 “I stayed up for hours that night, watching you sleep, trying to think of  a way to reverse the damage I'd already done.” Stiles cried. There were tears in his girlfriend’s eyes as she listened to him talk. The fact that he loved her made everything worse because in all honesty, she loved him too. “I love you so much and I hate myself for what I'm doing to you.”

 “I always wondered why people say ‘falling in love’ instead of ‘rising into love’. I mean being in love is a beautiful thing whereas falling is not. You're supposed to trust that someone won't let you fall on your ass and get hurt because you're in love with someone, but they don't always catch you. And in that, Stiles, is where we get the idea of the fall.”

 Stiles listened to her words and knew that the damage was already done. He couldn't fix this, but he'd be damned if he didn't try. “Please, baby. Let me make things right. I am so in love with you and I want to fix this. Fix us.”

 “There's nothing you can say that can fix what you did!” She cried, her heart pounding and her gut twisting. She looked down at her shoes, her sopping wet hair falling in front of her face. “I hate you, Stiles.” She whispered, looking back up to meet his broken, amber eyes.

 “No, don't say that.” Stiles begged, his tears more frequent at this point. He wiped his nose of any sniffles as she walked up the steps in front of her house to the door, her hand gripping the knob.

 “You broke my heart.” She shook her head and rolled her lips together. “I never want to see you again.”

 “I can't take this. I can't take losing you!” He told her, shouting over the rain and thunder. Squeezing her eyes shut, the tears poured from her eyes. She looked back to him. He'd never seen her so hurt. So broken. The pain was evident in her eyes. Stiles was disgusted with himself knowing that he had been the one to break her innocent heart.

 “It's over, Stiles.” She took a deep breath and exhaled. “We’re done.” Without another look at Stiles, she opened the door and walked into the house. After the door had closed, she lost all the strength she had that kept her together. She fell against the door and slid down until she was on the floor. Her hand was cupped over her mouth while she muffled her sobs.

 Stiles’ throat felt like it was closing when she broke up with him. He didn't blame her, he was expecting it, but it still felt like hell. He'd lost her. He lost his girlfriend and his best friend. It wasn't just a temporary thing either, he lost her for good.

[mypoorfaves]

Could ya write the Yurio afraid of thunderstorms?? Cause. Having hot head Yurio scared of that lip storm. Would make my day. If not well..Hakuna Matata.

Hakuna Matata indeed, my friend! I had a lot of fun with this prompt! (You can find said prompt here on my good friend @sneezehq‘s blog!)

This is all platonic Yuri and Mila. Although if you squint and stand on your head when the planets align just right, I suppose you could see it as a romantic ship.

This takes place the very next day after Victor leaves for Japan. Only Yakov knows he’s left, since Victor hasn’t uploaded the photo from Hasetsu Castle yet.

Yuri isn’t living with Yakov and Lilia yet, so I’m assuming he lives alone in some really cheap apartment or something, maybe a dorm? Anyways he’d be alone, so that’s why he wants to go to Mila’s rather than back home.

Anyways, please enjoy!

The Storm Before the Calm

~2300 words

～～～

At the first sound of booming thunderclaps, Yuri heads for Victor’s house.

There’s a thunderstorm brewing today. There hasn’t been one for quite a while, and Yuri has been thankful. It saves him from the humiliation of camping out with Victor at his place until the storm passes. Don’t get him wrong, Victor certainly doesn’t judge Yuri for his fear, that much he is sure of, but that doesn’t make it any less humiliating. A phobia of thunderstorms at the age of 15. How childish, he chides himself. He’s the Ice Tiger of Russia. He shouldn’t be afraid of a little light and sound.

Despite the pep talk, Yuri can’t help but pick up his pace as lighting again flashes across the sky and thunder rumbles in the looming grey clouds.

～

“Oi! Victor!” Yuri shouts, pounding on his door. He’s been standing outside for the past five minutes at least. Why isn’t he answering? He should be home. Victor wasn’t even at practice today; if Yakov knew why, he was keeping quiet about it. Yuri just assumed the man was sick. Therefore, it would make sense for him to be home right now and answer his goddamn door!

Yuri frustratedly calls out and pounds on the door once again. Droplets of rain have already begun to fall in the time he’s been waiting. The drum-like pounding across the sky has become more frequent, and is mimicked by Yuri’s jumping heart as the world is lit up in a monochrome of black and white and grey for an instant before it fades back into darkness.

Where else could Victor possibly be? It’s not too late in the evening, despite how dark the clouds are making the sky appear. The sidewalk has become darker too, tainted with drops that are falling thick and fast and in greater numbers now. Given the time (and the fact he skipped practice), if Victor wasn’t home that meant he was out having a good time with some of his friends and wouldn’t be back for a while. Even though Victor knew it was going to rain tonight.

“That bastard…” Yuri growls under his breath, forcing himself to feel irritation over hurt that Victor has abandoned looking after him and his childish fears. With a huff, Yuri turns away from the door and walks into the downpour, heading to the only other person he could think to confide in.

～

By the time he finally approaches his destination, he’s thoroughly drenched and chilled to the bone. His shoes are so filled with water that they make a squelching noise when he walks. His wet socks chafe his already-blistered feet. The sweater he’s wearing is doing nothing to help keep him warm as it’s soaked from the onslaught of rain that continues to pelt him, causing him to shiver. (At least, he likes to tell himself he’s shivering from the cold rather than from fear.)

Dragging one heavy foot in front of the other, he reaches Mila’s front door, swallows his pride and rings the doorbell. It takes a moment, but he hears movement within the house. “Thank god,” Yuri thinks. He didn’t have anywhere else to go other than his own lonely home if Mila, too, happened to be out.

Another clap of thunder explodes and Yuri flinches with a small whimper. His next exhale comes out shaky and with a shiver as water drips from his soaked hair down his face and onto his wet clothes. Although Mila is evidently inside the house, she seems to be taking her sweet time in coming to the door. Yuri is cold and upset, and (damn, he hates to admit it, but) frightened. As more lightning flickers across the gloomy sky, he raises a frozen finger to the doorbell again and rings it multiple times, then impatiently pounds on the door and shouts, “Let me in, баба!”

That seems to get her attention as she hurries towards the door. Through the closed door, he can faintly hear her muttering to herself wondering why Yuri is here and so snappy.

He must look absolutely miserable because Mila stops her complaints the moment she opens the door and sees him standing there looking like a drowned rat. “What are you doing here?” she questions. Yuri automatically opens his mouth to snap back at her, but Mila speaks first. “Never mind why, just get inside! You must be freezing!”

Not possessing the will nor energy to argue, he crosses the threshold and Mila closes the door as another crack of thunder booms. It takes all of Yuri’s willpower not to whimper at the sound, but he manages by biting sharply on his lower lip. Luckily Mila doesn’t seem to have noticed. She’s already bustling off towards the hall closet, mentioning something about drying off with some towels.

Yuri just stands in the doorway, arms crossed across his body, teeth chattering as he tries unsuccessfully to control his trembling. Mila comes back with a towel and Yuri wordlessly takes it and drapes it over his shoulders. He steps out of his shoes and peels off his socks and steps onto the smooth hardwood floor. It feels surprisingly warm. Or maybe he’s just that cold. He pulls the towel tighter around his frame.

“So what brings you to my place?” Mila’s inquisitive voice breaks into his thoughts. He keeps his gaze on his battered feet, not looking up or voicing an answer. “It’s not everyday you willingly want to spend time with me, so something must be up.”

Yuri just fiddles with a frayed string from the towel. “I don’t feel like talking about it. It’s stupid anyways…” he trails off, hoping she’ll just drop it.  He keeps his gaze aimed at the ground, his wet bangs curtaining his green eyes. When he sneaks a quick glance up, Mila’s expression has softened from prodding to sympathetic.

Miraculously, she does drop the subject. “Dry off as best you can. I have a spare shirt I can lend you; it’s from an ex-boyfriend who spent the night one time. You can borrow a pair of my leggings, too.”

She retrieves the items quickly and is delivering them to Yuri when a deep, crackling wave of thunder rumbles throughout the house. It crashes like shattering plates and Yuri actually feels the building shake, the vibrations reverberating in his chest and fear tingling down to his toes. The lights flicker off and on for a moment and Yuri gasps, squeezing his eyes shut tightly with a whimper.

Even once the rumbling has faded, Yuri keeps his eyes shut as embarrassment immediately rushes to his cheeks. There’s no doubt Mila saw that, and now she knows and she’s going to make fun of him for having such a childish fear.

“Oh, Yuri,” he hears her say. “Is that why you came here? You’re scared of storms?” Yuri just nods, not trusting his voice. He’s on the verge of tearsーfrom fear or humiliation he’s not sure; likely both.

He expects Mila to laugh at him, insult his ridiculous phobia. What he doesn’t expect is a towel draped over his head. “You need to dry off your hair too,” she says, voice full of care as she gently ruffles his hair through the towel. “You might catch a cold if you don’t.”

“I already got drenched in the rain. What difference will it make?” Yuri mutters. Although he’s relieved Mila is not making fun of him, her pity isn’t doing much to boost his pride. He pulls the towel off of his head, simply holding it in his hand.

“If you won’t do it yourself, then I’ll do it for you,” Mila offers, taking it back from him. “Quickly get changed. You can take a hot shower too, if you want. I’ll be waiting on the couch when you get out. We’ll have some drinks and pirozhki, and I’ll put a movie on. I hope you like rom-coms, because that’s all I have,” she says with an apologetic smile.

Mumbling a thanks, Yuri heads to the bathroom to get changed.

～

Mila already has everything set up when he emerges in dry clothes. As promised, there’s a plate of pirozhki on the coffee table, as well as two steaming mugs of what Yuri soon discovers is hot cocoa. He settles on the couch, wrapping himself in one of the blankets Mila has brought out. Without much speaking from either of them, she starts the movie.

It’s only about two minutes in when Mila once again brings up the issue of Yuri’s hair, the strands still wet and dripping onto his new shirt. Feeling warm and comfortable from both the change of clothes as well as the atmosphere of the home, Yuri doesn’t protest when Mila pats and rubs at his hair with a towel to dry it off. She takes an excessive amount of time in doing the job and Yuri relishes every second. He loves having his hair played with; it just feels so heavenly in a way he can’t even begin to describe. Victor had eventually found out how much it calms him and had taken to playing with his hair and even braiding it on nights with a particularly bad storm.

Soon his hair is sufficiently dried and the towel is dropped in a pile on the floor. Yuri focuses his attention back on the movie (though he was barely paying attention before, so comfortable and honestly trying not to fall asleep). He fights a sudden shiverーthis time from pleasureーas Mila runs her fingers through his damp hair. Yuri melts into the touch with a sigh, and he hears Mila give a soft hum resembling a chuckle at the reaction.

“If you were a kitten, I have a feeling you’d be purring right now,” Mila comments fondly. Yuri can’t find it in himself to come up with a response, so utterly content and tired and finally feeling at peace. Mila continues her ministrations, the two of them sitting in silence other than the sounds coming from the tv that thankfully drown out the storm. It’s only once Mila starts to style his hair in a simple braid that Yuri finds the courage to speak.

“Whenever there’s a storm, I would always stay at Victor’s place,” he starts. There’s the slightest pause from Mila, but she carries on with her actions as Yuri continues to speak. “Once he found out I was scared of storms, he insisted I come over to his place so I wouldn’t be suffering alone.” He smiles fondly at the memory of a concerned Victor inconspicuously pulling him aside one practice and offering he comes to his place after; Yuri had been so scared of the thunder resonating through the rink that he was even flubbing his jumps. Yuri had initially been embarrassed at being found out, but begrudgingly accepted Victor’s offer and it quickly became a routine occurrence. “He would put on a movie to drown out the soundsーjust like we’re doing nowーand he’d even style my hair sometimes too; said it reminded him of his junior days.”

Mila isn’t talking, just letting Yuri say what he wants without her input, but her nimble fingers gently wrapping around the blond strands and diligently winding them around each other say more than enough. “I went over to Victor’s today, since the weather was bad,” Yuri tells her. “When I got there, I stood outside for a while but he wasn’t answering the door. Eventually, I just figured he has better things to do than look after me, so I came here.” He feels Mila’s fingers stop, the braid finished. It’s not very long, and there’s no elastic to keep it from fully unraveling.

“You were the only other person I could think to turn to,” Yuri explains, eyes focused on his hands folded in his lap. “As much as I hate to admit it, you’re like an older sister to me. Even if you do piss me off a lot of the time,” he adds with irritation he doesn’t truly feel. “So now you know,” he finishes with a sigh, “if Victor didn’t already tell you before, that is. I wouldn’t put it past him to babble something stupid like that to you,” he mutters, still angry at the older skater for blowing him off.

“Oh, Yuri,” she consoles him. “It’s not stupid. Everyone has fears. I’m touched that you trust me enough to tell me yours. I didn’t know you were so scared of thunderstorms.”

“So Victor didn’t tell you?” Yuri asks, surprised. He turns to face Mila.

She shakes her head at his question. “No, he never told me anything. He must really care about you to keep it a secret.” Yuri can’t help but feel touched by her words. “Just like how I care about my sweet little Yura!” Mila gushes and pulls him in for a tight hug.

“Let me go, баба!” he shouts, but he doesn’t really mean it. He doesn’t fight to get out of her embrace and soon settles down.

It must be getting late, since Yuri is already beginning to feel tired. He hides a yawn, hoping Mila doesn’t notice and send him to bed. He’s comfortable the way he is now. Mila is kind and caring, like a big sister should be (even if she does still get on his nerves sometimes). The blankets around them are soft, and his stomach is pleasantly full with the snacks Mila provided. Yuri is no longer paying attention to the movie, but the pleasant sounds drown out the terror of the storm. Feeling a warm sense of peace, he lets himself rest his head against Mila’s shoulder as he closes his eyes.

～～～

(End)

Notes: баба is Russian for woman or hag (or “peasant woman” according to google translate 😅)

Fun fact: astraphobia, also known as astrapophobia, brontophobia, keraunophobia, or tonitrophobia is the term for a fear of thunder and lightning.

[its-love-u-asshole]

Unbound [Ch. 1]

Pairing: Fushimi Saruhiko/Yata Misaki

Rating: T

Summary: Summer is Yata’s favorite time of the year in his town, a place where it normally rains nonstop nine months out of the year. It doesn’t help that the town is marred by old legends and tales which do nothing to make it less creepy and drab. Essentially, summer is Yata’s chance to forget superstitions and finally hit the beach. Apart from deciding what he wants to do with his life, all he wants is to enjoy it with his friends and maybe get to know Fushimi Saruhiko, a stranger who Yata can’t help but feel drawn to. However, the summer has more in store for him than usual, and he’s never been one to back down. 

AO3

Note: Sarumi fest! I’m so happy I get to participate this year as well ^^ This is a fic I’ve been working on for over a year really, and I have constantly gone back and forth about finishing and posting it lol. It’s an important project to me though, so I figured why not post it for fest and see what people think? ^^ 

Big thanks to @emeraldwaves and @brynne-lagaao for talking over this fic with me back in the past! 

Enjoy! 

The old cemetery, which resides isolated and forgotten on the south edge of the city, houses the dead from long ago, before industrialization came, before buildings and phones. The history is dull and no longer taught, though some still hang on rather tightly to it, including the lore which always shrouded the rainy plains.

At the rusted iron gate of the cemetery, there is an inscription. No author has even been recognized for it.  

“There is a legend in these parts.

It is widely accepted despite never being proven.

Should one choose to make a life here, it is best to know of the fate which awaits you.

When it is one’s time to die, a beast of the shadows will appear at the threshold of your home, teeth barred and ready to strike. It is a monstrous thing, scarring and beautiful, large and as black as coal. It will paralyze you where you stand, it will render everything worthless. It does not speak, it does not show mercy. It is an emotionless creature with only one job: to drag you into darkness. Do not try to run, do not try to fight. Such attempts are futile. You cannot escape. Death is imminent.”

--

They were looking at one of his old photos. Old, as in it had clipped edges, burned with a lighter in the moments he'd been too angry to continue staring, when his desire to erase such memories was strongest. Basically, it was from a time when he actually allowed himself to be in pictures at all, and that time had come and gone long ago.

 Looking at it now though, as it was held in Douhan's delicate, manicured hands, he almost let himself believe he'd been overreacting. The pressed green jewels on her index finger and thumb slid over the shadows of his plump face, the childish pout and the beginnings of his characteristic creased brow were already forming even at the young age of six. The quality of the family portrait was mediocre, or no, that was him being unexpectedly kind. It was a horrid quality, the shadows of the image casting a menacing look over his father's smug face while the light shone upon his mother's with a false celestial glow. How quaint, how fitting, since that was how she paraded herself back then, as less evil than the man beside her.

 And then there was his younger self. Small, skinny, and his hands still a little dirty from being out by the lake. His glasses were crooked and his clothes too tight, he’d hated those fancy collars and button ups. Useless. Presentation was everything, she would say, the lie was everything. Though, with someone like Fushimi Kisa, who never attended festivals and who he’d once caught tearing down holiday decorations, he had to wonder what compelled her to arrange a family portrait in the first place.

 "You look so cute," the blonde commented, the light tilt of her lips causing him to glare as he was brought back to the present. No matter how long he'd known her, her smug intentions and concealed jests annoyed him to no end, especially this time, when—

"This is what I mean though, you look so naive and innocent," she continued, flipping the photo over, pretending to analyze the date on the back as her eyes flashed with cunning. Honestly, why he allowed her to make a fool out of him, why he came to visit her at all, was a total mystery to him.

 Saruhiko stared out of the bay window, which took up half the wall of her small home. The weeds out front were overgrown, covering all but the corners of the glass and no doubt beginning to grow into the chipped bricks the house was made of. The plants stood out between the houses on either side of Douhan's, those homes had fresh cut lawns, rose bushes, and neat upkeep. Whereas the windows to those homes let in all the sky had to offer in terms of darkness and sunlight, the pane of the blonde's allowed only occasional streams of light or droplets of water through. The window itself was molded with intricate designs on the borders, the curtains as silky as they were unnecessary, as if she saw guests far more important than himself to appreciate such expensive items. But no, Douhan was not an entertainer, and her door remained locked for all except him. And again, why was he here?

 "It reminds me of how you look now--"

 "Shut it," he cut her off, standing up as he quickly made his way to the door. He’d been getting restless all evening, and now the weather was finally taking a turn for the worst. It was raining out, and he only had a single coat to shield him, but it was the least of his problems..."I don't have to listen to you and your--"

 "Theories? But they're not, are they?" Douhan sighed, kicking the shoebox of old photos to the floor. They’d served their purpose already. Meaningless now. "You're going to go look for him now too aren't you? Normal people talk to the ones they like, they don't--"

 "Why would I do a stupid thing like that?" He let each footstep he took towards the door accompany each part of the question, the wood creaking beneath his sneakers like he'd fall through the floor with any more force.

 "Because you wanted advice deep down? Because you are in lo--"

 "Those things don't happen to me, or to people who have never met," Saruhiko replied, before he realized he was probably pouting very much like his childhood self, and turned his expression into a schooled sneer. "Don't you have better things to do?"

 "Yes but this is more fun." She twirled a lock of her hair, absently staring out of the covered window like she was watching a breathtaking show, and he used the opportunity to turn away, and opened the scratched up door, not flinching when crusts of white paint rained onto the wood below. "Make sure to bring him by sometime, when you get the guts to talk to him."

 Yeah right, he thought. Partly because he wanted to believe he wouldn't actually talk to the boy in question, because why would he? And partly because...well, he was feeling spiteful, and the pathetic nature of the acknowledgement itself had him scoffing.

 The thunder outside rang through the air, followed by the downpour, and he pulled his hoodie on, his stomach sinking with dread when he took his first step out into the storm. His clock read 4:45 pm. The thunder rumbled on.

 "Oh, and Saruhiko?" Douhan's voice was booming through the noise, despite it being calm and neutral in nature, and he no longer found himself baffled about how she managed to do that, only annoyed that she seemed to always know what he was thinking. He clicked his tongue, turning his head back to face her.

 Her lips, glossy and pink, tilted up in a knowing smirk before he was smart enough to look away, the words hitting him even as he sprinted out into the rain.

 "Have fun."

 --

 “Chitose hurry up! We were supposed to leave thirty minutes ago!”

A distant rumbling of cars filled the chilly atmosphere, and the sound of a spray can dying and clattering to the ground shrouded the warning. A few more clacks of a new can being prepped filled the gap where a response should’ve been, and the group of boys glared angrily at the source. Perhaps sensing the tension, the spraying ceased, and soon Dewa was being acknowledged with a long, overdramatic sigh.

Here we go, Yata thought to himself, rolling his eyes.

“Hey now,” Chitose addressed Dewa finally, turning away from the paint splattered wall in front of him. The other did not look impressed, as he rarely was with any of Chitose’s antics. No one was ever impressed with them, but it wasn’t as if they could avoid it. They were common, and for whatever reason, their group put up with them. “You can’t rush art.”

More silence.

Chitose shook the spray can again, not bothered by it, and continued his graffiti art on the wall under the freeway. A fresh, vibrant shade of orange shot out, adding definition and brilliance to the wispy lines and details.

They did stuff like this often, just tagging random places and buildings to waste time, to have fun. Plus, the thrill of getting caught was exhilarating, though it hadn’t happened yet. They had a perfect record so far.

Not for long though, if Chitose had anything to do with it.

“You can so! A night at home instead of in jail depends on it,” Bandou supplied, nervously stuffing empty cans into the duffel bag they had brought along. He sloppily wiped his hands on the grass, wincing when they became muddy, the colors bleeding together until it all looked brown. He looked up as if the universe had wronged him, it wasn’t as if he could wipe the substance on his pants after all. No evidence could be left. He chose to ignore Akagi’s snickering nearby in order to focus on the reason for his pain. “Besides, it’s just a dumb horse…thing.”

“It is not a horse dickwad, it’s a Pegasus and it’s flying out of the fiery gates of hell,” Chitose explained, like it needed explaining, adding more red to the artistic looking flames angrily as he did so. It was a nice piece, Yata would begrudgingly admit. The horse was weirdly life like even with its amateur design and weird colors, and it was sure to last a good few months before it faded into the grungy wall. Was it worth the risk though? No fucking way.

Akagi was full blown pissing himself at this point. Yata didn’t know if it was at Bandou’s expense or not, but he envied the other for being able to be so happy in their situation.

“So?”

“Soooo, it’s gonna look bitchin.” Chitose swore again as his can ran out of paint, lazily tossing it behind his shoulder and grabbing another from Fujishima. Despite looking a little more than completely done with Chitose’s shit, the other made no move to stop him. Yata winced at the sound of the can opening. Sometimes Yata wondered how Chitose afforded all the paint he went through with his big projects. “I’m almost done anyways. Like, five minutes tops.”

“When have I heard that before? Oh yeah, just last week, when your over the top mermaid was supposed to look bitchin,” Eric supplied with a scowl, causing the others to laugh.

“Yeah, yeah. You guys suck.”

“Guys we’ve been here too long,” Yata finally spoke up, tired of just watching his friends bicker. Sometimes it was funny, today it wasn’t. There was a strange sense of foreboding in the air, and Yata couldn’t help but be superstitious. It did not feel like a day to push their luck. “It’s gonna be five soon. The bridge will be full of cops by the time we get there!”

They didn’t exactly look unsuspicious either, what with their stained clothes and large duffel filled with spray paint. Not to mention, they were hardly dressed in the most proper of outfits.

Yata hadn’t even really wanted to go out that day, too tired from playing videogames and doing chores all throughout the previous evening. With enough pestering from his friends though, he was forced out of his room, greeted by a gloomy day that promised bad weather. He was glad it was almost summer, he missed the brightness and warmth of the sun. Even just thinking about it made him energized. Getting to go to the beach, hike the cliffs…

But that day, the town had continued with its usual foreshadowing of bleakness. Indeed, the rain had started while they were out, making the choice of their graffiti spot easy. They were shielded from the water, underneath a loud freeway on the banks of the river. The horns of cars and the screeching of tires echoed down below, making it hard to hear. Plus, the banks of the river were around the more commercial area of the city, which made the land around them fucking reek.

At the thought, his nose scrunched up, and Yata held back a groan. He couldn’t wait for the rain to be over, and to go back to his neighborhood. Even if it was small and humble, it smelled fresher and there was way less traffic.

Sadly however, there weren’t too many places to paint there. As a result, they often had to travel more towards the city. Whenever they tagged in the area, they’d usually take the old midtown bridge back to their side of town, walking besides the traffic and hoping no officers stopped them. So far, so good.

“We’ll get there before five, quit worrying,” Chitose said while adding on the finishing touches to his large piece. “Aaaand, done!”

As he said it, the last of the can was used up, emitting a low hissing noise to signal its emptiness.

“Yes, yes. Now let’s go!” Bandou zipped up the bag after throwing the last can inside, and Chitose scoffed. Ah no…

“You guys just don’t get my artistic vision.”

Yata rolled his eyes, brushing his hands onto his shorts and grimacing as paint smeared onto them. Fuck, I forgot. His mom was going to have a fit if she saw how dirty he’d gotten.

“I’m not sure if the bridge is such a good idea anymore,” Fujishima spoke up cautiously. “It’s nearly rush hour, it’ll be busy.”

“So?”

“Sooo,” Yata interrupted, “lots of people will totally see us!”

Ugh. They’d probably have to take the long way around. He’d surely be late for dinner, and his mom would have his head no doubt, and coupled with the paint, he’d be doing all the chores tonight.

The group looked frazzled now, unsure of the best way to proceed. Even taking the long way was risky, given the longer they were out carrying their stuff, the more likely they were to be noticed. Not to mention the rain was coming down a bit harder than before, and they were without umbrellas.

Shit…

“This is all Chitose’s fault,” Eric muttered beside Fujishima.

“Oh, and who’s the one that suggested we even come out here?”

A chorus of ‘you’ was shot back at Chitose, causing him to scowl at his so-called friends.

“If we’re going the long way, we better start walking now,” Dewa added in frustration, zipping up his coat to hide his paint stained undershirt.

“More like running…” Bandou’s muttering didn’t go unnoticed by Chitose, who was now flipping him off and offering up a butt load of excuses as to why none of it was his doing.

Yata joined in, trying to will them all to shut up, because he was totally dead meat when he got home if he was more than thirty minutes late. Plus, Yata didn’t exactly like when it was pitch dark outside, something about where he lived creeped him out at night. The woods were like something out of a horror movie (but he’d ever let his friends know that stuff still freaked him out). The atmosphere wasn’t helped by the area’s rain, and Yata never understood why his mom chose to live in a city where in rained nine months out of the year.

“Let’s just risk it! Let’s go on the bridge—”

“Yata, it’s five! With all the college kids walking home from school, it’s almost as long as the other way! And we’re even more likely to get caught!” Bandou was freaking out, pacing back and forth on the dead grass beneath their feet. It sloshed from the rain, sticking to his sneakers.

Yata sighed, close to giving up and accepting his fate.

How was he going to explain himself this time? Traffic? Lost track of the hour? He didn’t have much time to shuffle through his overused excuses, and his own feet began to nervously shift on the muddy ground.

What do we do?

“It’s faster if you use the underpass instead,” an apathetic voice managed to cut through their bickering, causing all heads to turn towards its source in fright. The shock was only amplified by the roar of thunder above their heads, almost mocking their misfortune.

Fuck!

Yata turned in a flash, shoulders tensed up from the prospect of being caught, his feet ready to run.

Damn, if it’s a patrol we’re screwed.

But…no.

Looking over, Yata was met was a completely different sight from the one he’d imagined, and against his will, his breath caught in his throat. The voice had come from a boy their age, slender and tall, wrapped in a cowl neck. His dark, wet hair fell in his eyes, obscuring the uninterested gaze he was sporting. He had glasses on that were a bit smudged from the fog of the rain, and his clothes seemed a bit damp and worn. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a while, his eyes glazed over but trying to keep an intense focus on his surroundings. The bags under them were dark for someone so young, but it didn’t take away from his beauty or the bright blue hue of them. He really did seem a bit unreal. Hell, Yata thought maybe he must’ve been one of those models he saw in storefront windows, the ones with the too perfect pictures. His skin was pale against the dark sweatshirt, and Yata had to wonder if he was a complete dumbass, letting himself be completely soaked by the rain.

There was silence as the group stared at him, the few feet of distance making it seem more like a standoff than anything else. The stranger didn’t budge, not even as the rain began to fall harder.

Weirdo.

“U-uh, what?” Chitose had spoken up finally, taken aback by the other boy’s presence, probably hoping that they wouldn’t be ratted out. The dumb design behind him stuck out like a sore thumb, colors new and bright with the paint still wet. They were clearly the perpetrators too, hands stained with paint and the empty cans haphazardly tucked into their duffel, some sticking out messily. Their shoes were discolored from the bright shades as well, so it would take an idiot not to connect the dots.

Damnit Chitose.

A tongue click.

It was simple, but the annoying response was clear as day, even through the heavy rain fall.

“I was just saying, the underpass is faster than walking on the bridge itself. Less people that way,” the young man continued, rubbing at the back of his head. Yata blinked, lips twitching in a smile he couldn’t exactly explain. The guy was awkward, and he talked as if he was seriously struggling to offer advice.

But, the underpass…

Huh. They’d never tried the underpass before, mostly because of old, childhood tales which scared them away from the dank, shrouded place. Still, they were grown up and in a group now, and they could really benefit from a shortcut.

“Hey thanks! Guys—” Bandou was interrupted by a pull to his collar, a gesture that instinctively caused them to all huddle up in a circle. “Huh? What—”

“Idiot,” Eric muttered. “We don’t even know this guy.”

“So what? He’s just giving us directions,” Bandou pouted, on edge and ready to take off in whatever direction he was told. “The longer we’re here the more likely someone’s gonna find us!”

“Yeah but we’ve never been that way before,” Yata supplied, a bit more nicely than Eric. “The end of the pass could be a total cop zone for all we know!”

“Not to mention this guy could be a total sell out,” Chitose added. “I mean, we didn’t even know he was there. He probably saw everything!”

“Well I don’t know, he doesn’t exactly look stuck up. He definitely doesn’t look dangerous…” Yata whispered. In fact, he’d say the guy could stand to gain some weight…

“Shit, I look like I eat more than him,” Eric murmured.

“You eat more than a lot of people.”

“If I may interject,” an annoyed voice cut though the group’s chattering, causing another wave of panic to go through them all. Honestly, given their reactions, they looked like total spazzes. They all jumped back, the loud sounds of traffic also not helping the atmosphere as loud truck horns blared in the background. “Most of the homeless hang out under the new bridge over in downtown now. There’s no more reason for the cops to patrol the underpass anymore.”

It was a roundabout way of telling them that there was nothing to worry about. It was safe. Why not just say that in the first place?

Hm…

They all shared a glance then, and the young man raised an eyebrow, burying his hands deeper into his pockets. Something was still off about him…and though he was always taught to be grateful, Yata wanted to know what was up before trusting the guy. Plus, he was curious. The guy hadn’t stopped staring at Yata since he’d arrived, and Yata wondered if he’d met the guy somewhere before.

Yata was the first to approach him, naturally, his face scrunched up in mild skepticism. “Why are you tellin’ us this stuff?”

A shrug was the response he got, well, that and what he swore was a light flush on the taller’s face. Come to think of it, the guy definitely wasn’t bad looking in the slightest, just a bit mopey. Like a pet lost out in the rain.

Yata fought the urge to shake his head. Not the time.

“You looked like a group of idiots with nowhere to go. The faster you’re out of here, the quieter it’ll be,” the boy said. Akagi squawked somewhere behind him, and Yata nearly did the same.

The hell?          

Yata scoffed, glaring now. Well, talk about a complete turnaround. Who was this asshole? “Whatever! What kind of answer is that? What kind of creep hangs out under a bridge anyways?”

“What kind of delinquent spray paints it?” The response was quick, so sharp it almost caused Yata to step back, but like hell did he back down from anyone.

Oh, I am gonna—

“Not to interrupt your weird flirting,” Eric said, looking smug and intrigued in a way Yata wasn’t too fond of. “But you didn’t have to come over here when you saw us.”

Wait…huh? F-flirting?

There was a weird feeling in the air, the kind which usually came when Eric was secretly making fun of him, and Yata saw the taller boy glare at the words.

Yata didn’t even have time to sputter out a response, because it was soon all going downhill.

“Yeah, heh,” Chitose seemed to speak with the same wolfish grin Eric was now sporting. Bad feeling. Very bad. “You sure you didn’t just want to help in general? Or…did you have an angle? I can tell when people are being uh…checked out you know?”

A long, loaded silence. Another tongue click.

What?

“H-huh?” Yata stared at the other boy now, more than a little confused.

“Well,” the taller began hesitantly, almost reluctantly. “You did look like you needed help, but I wasn’t all that excited to offer any.”

Yata laughed at that, because seriously, why all that fuss if he was just trying to help? And why try to deny it after? Maybe the guy was just weird…

He glanced back at his friends, and his tense posture faded. “Yeah, we definitely—”

“I said you…as in I figured you needed help,” the taller cut off, his voice almost a whisper then. His eyes were boring a hole through Yata, the bright blue now a lot clearer. “I don’t know if that constitutes as checking someone out—”

“It does,” was the answer all Yata’s friends gave.

Yata stilled, and he almost didn’t hear the unrepressed laugh from Eric behind him.

Checking out? W-wait…

Yata watched as the stranger looked away, directing an embarrassed scowl at the ground, and it all seemed to click.

Oh.

Oh.

Yata’s face lit up red instantly, the cold not helping to hide it, and he was about ready to beat up Chitose, who was humming behind him. “I-I-I-I-I’m not—well I’m not like that see.”

“Since when?”

Shut up Bandou.

The other’s eyes seemed to twinkle with amusement at that, and Yata swallowed, suddenly torn between punching the guy and…well he didn’t know.

“I’m really not!”

“Yeah, right,” Eric whispered from the back. Yata spun around, flipping him off before returning to the handsome….no…annoying stranger.

“I-I’m just not…looking for that,” Yata said, but then backpedaled as if his mind was trying to save him. Fuck, fine. The guy did seem kinda cool…ugh! No, he was mysterious, that was all. “As in right now! Like right now, we really have to get back to the east end!”

God Yata wanted to crawl into a hole, his face was on fire. Luckily, the other spared him. Sort of.

“Hm, I see. Either way, you seem a bit slow, so I figured I’d take pity on those who lack common sense,” the boy said, a smug look dancing on his features.

“W-what? Fuck you, just—”

Sirens began ringing in the distance. No doubt about it, they were police sirens, and they were close.

The whole group tensed, and though they knew they probably weren’t being looked for, it didn’t mean they couldn’t be found. It was getting later the longer they stood there, and soon cops would be patrolling their area. The bridge may have already been crawling with them since they’d ran behind schedule. Which meant at that point, they had no real choice but to…

“Ugh fuck this! Either way, we might be screwed,” Chitose yelled, throwing the duffel at Bandou and hightailing it towards the direction of the underpass.

“Thank you for the help,” Fujishima spared a glance at the stranger before turning his attention towards Yata. “Yat—”

“Yata move your ass, you can talk to your boyfriend later,” Eric rushed past, grabbing Fujishima and dragging him forward.

“He’s not—ugh!” Yata ran a hand through his hair before starting to follow his friends, urgency overriding humiliation. He looked back one last time, curiosity getting the better of him once more. The stranger just stood there, unmoving and apathetic as ever, not even phased by all the noise around him, or the sudden retreat. Yet as neutral as he looked, Yata couldn’t help but find him strangely captivating, like he couldn’t help but meet the other’s gaze.

Yata sighed as Chitose called for him again, sparing one last glance. “Hey jerk, what’s your name?”

The other seemed surprised then, his eyes widening a fraction. It was actually a bit satisfying, seeing the new, non-asshole expression.

“What can’t talk now? Spit it out,” Yata called as he started to walk backwards in the direction his friends had gone. Fuck, he was totally going to have to gun it. The other hummed, tipping his head forward acquiescingly after a while, as if he was torn about actually giving up the information.

“Fushimi Saruhiko.”

Fushimi Saruhiko. Got it.

“See you around, Saru!”

It was bold of him, but he probably wouldn’t see the guy again, and the name made him laugh to himself triumphantly.

As sirens continued in the distance, Yata turned, sprinting away until he was but a speck in Saruhiko’s vision.

--

The sound of Douhan’s door slamming shut barely caused her to jump, and she didn’t even look away from the soup brewing on the stove as a blurry figure dressed in black flew past her periphery, shoulders hunched and steps quick.

“How did it go?” She asked, feeling particularly haughty, and she was answered by the deafening slam of the guest bedroom door.

Ah, so it went well.

--

“Misaki! You’re early…”

The screen door closed behind him, joining a rumble of thunder, and he did his best to control his rapid breathing so as to not seem tired. He could totally play this off…

Yata’s mother eyed him suspiciously as he trudged into the house, trying to not look like the drowned rat he was. Thank god he’d worn his good coat. He coughed to relieve some of the air in his lungs wanting to be released. He’d run the whole way, and had managed to get back ten minutes early, just before dinner.

It was a miracle, and part of him thanked Saruhiko over and over.

“Have some faith Mom, I’m not late every day,” Yata said as he kicked off his shoes and lined them up next to his siblings’. They were muddy, but the rain had washed off most of the paint colors.

Thank fuck.

“Yes, but you’re late most days.” His mother was now setting the table, eyeing him warily as she set out the appropriate utensils.

“It’s not my fault the bridge usually takes so long to cross…it’s a lot quicker than the long way though,” Yata said, hoping his mother wouldn’t try to question why he was even on the other side of town in the first place.

No such luck.

“You shouldn’t even be over there, what exactly have you been doing?” His mother paused, hand on her hip as she glared at him accusingly. The bowls in her hand clattered as they were placed down roughly onto the wooden surface, and he cringed.

“Nothing! There’s cool shops over there is all, but anyways, need help?” Yata moved closer to the table, desperately hoping to take his mother’s mind away from the topic of his afternoon whereabouts. After all, he could only lie to his mother so well…

She just ignored him, going back to the sink and furiously ringing out a washcloth, worry lacing her tone. “I don’t like the thought of you on that bridge, do you know how many accidents happen on there?”

Ah man…

Yata sighed. His mom stressed too much. He was careful! Plus he was pretty quick and healthy, he could get himself out of trouble, and he stayed away from the road.

He looked at the floor guiltily. It was nice, knowing she cared, but part of him did hate worrying her. It was part of the reason he didn’t like telling her when he went on one of his adventures.

“Don’t worry, we took the underpass today anyways,” Yata replied, tone softer as he laid out the rest of the place settings gently before sitting at the table.

Thinking back, they really had lucked out because of Saruhiko. He was kind of strange, and who knew how long he’d been standing there, or where he’d even come from, but he’d done them a real solid.

Even if he was kind of a dick.

Yata blushed, remembering the smirk on the other’s face as he had admitted his reasons for helping. He shook his head, trying to not let it get to him again. Surely he’d just been joking, trying to rile Yata up, and his friends had honestly only made assumptions. Regardless, the shorter knew he’d be hearing shit from his friends about it for weeks.

It didn’t help that the guy had been good looking either.

It also didn’t help that he had no idea why the guy’s looks even mattered to his messed up head.

Fuck.

He was vaguely aware of his mother’s voice being directed at him, so he figured it was best to return to reality before he got thoroughly scolded.

“—and there was an especially bad one today, a pileup I hear!” His mother was scrubbing at a pot angrily, stopping only to point a menacing finger at her son. “If I hear you’re on that bridge you’ll be in big trouble, you got it?”

He mumbled an affirmative, feeling like a kid again, then slunk further into his seat. His friends were probably going to have a field day with that too…

“Now, could you get your brother and sister? Dinner’s done,” his mom said with a loving smile, opening a pot on the stove and allowing a truly tantalizing aroma to waft through the house.

She didn’t have to tell him twice.

--

The mall was crowded on weekends, what with school being out and new paychecks to spend. Yata and Chitose had taken the liberty of crashing Eric’s date with Fujishima, inciting his wrath effectively.

“You losers really couldn’t entertain yourselves could you?” Eric grumbled the question as they walked out of the movie theater—the one they had just been kicked out of due to being too ‘rowdy.’ It had been mostly Chitose’s fault in Yata’s opinion. The redhead hadn’t wanted to intrude on the movie date, but Chitose was bored, and had thought it would be funny.

Ha fucking ha.

Now they couldn’t go to the movies for two damn weeks.

Oh well, Yata reasoned. Summer was finally upon them, so it wasn’t as if he’d want to spend much time indoors anyhow. This was his favorite time of the year!

So, he definitely regretted going with Chitose to the mall. Not only because he felt bad about crashing a date, but…

In all honesty, being around Eric and Fujishima sometimes made Yata uncomfortable. Not that he had anything against the relationship, not at all. It was just the fact there was a definite air of…trust and affection…what must’ve been love, and it surrounded the two. It made Yata feel all kinds of strange, but he could never put a finger on why. Maybe he was envious? No, that didn’t seem right either. More like wonder, like an annoying curiosity and need to understand the reasons behind those private looks shared between the couple. He wondered if he’d ever find someone who he cared about so much. He didn’t like to think about it a lot, because really it was so lame. More than anything he was happy for his friends.

“Relax, we’ll leave you alone after lunch,” Chitose argued, sitting down with the group at a food court table. Somehow, they’d actually managed to find a seat.

“Uh huh,” Fujishima replied, smiling fondly as he patted Eric’s back in apology.

“If I buy you food, will you forgive me?” Chitose pleaded with Eric mockingly, and the other just flipped him off, sticking out his tongue for good measure. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Chitose got up and headed towards some unhealthy fast food stand, leaving Yata alone with the couple.

Well, maybe part of it was envy. For whatever reason, his mind unhelpfully conjured up an image of Saruhiko, and Yata immediately forced it away. Shit, what the hell?

“So Yata, still thinking about the dreamy guy from the other week?” Eric’s voice was packed with teasing notes, and he swore he even heard Fujishima hold back a snort. Traitor.

What kind of question was that anyways?

“What the fuck? Why would I be thinkin’ of that jerk? He did us a solid yeah, but he didn’t say anything else important,” Yata scoffed, scanning the food court to avoid making eye contact.

Truth was, he’d been thinking of Saruhiko a lot for some reason. It was like the encounter with the other was permanently sketched into Yata’s brain, and he couldn’t get rid of it.

“Not to make assumptions,” Fujishima began. “But you usually only avoid eye contact when you’re lying.”

Yata choked on spit.

Double traitor.

“I do not! I ju—”

“Poor bastard, doesn’t even know how bad he’s got it,” Eric sighed wistfully.

“Fuck off,” Yata muttered as he continued to look over the vast crowd of people milling about with their screaming kids and oversized shopping bags. The mall wasn’t always his favorite place to hang out, since he could potentially run into people from school he didn’t like, but with his friends it was pretty fun. Well, when they weren’t cornering him about hot strangers. Shit. No, bad. Yata continued to look around in frustration, hoping the distractions would drown out his thoughts. “I barely know the gu—oh fuck!”

Of course, the universe hated him. “There he is!”

If anyone asked, Yata wouldn’t be able to tell them why in that moment he dove under the table. Not one excuse popped up in his mind. Damn.

The same tall, tired young man from a few days prior stood leaning against the wall at the edge of the food court, people watching. He wasn’t soaked with water like he had been that day, and instead had nicely styled hair and clean glasses. Fuck.

Even worse.

Eric and Fujishima both turned to see what the issue was, but Yata cussed at them, urging them to stop. “Don’t fucking look over! He’ll see you!”

“Are you a middle schooler?” Eric asked after a confused pause, like he couldn’t actually fathom the situation which was Yata hiding under a table from some dude. “Just go over there an—”

“I don’t want to talk to that asshole! He looks at me weird…” Yata squinted, peeking out over the top of the table to watch the uninterested figure across the room.

“Yeah, because he’s gay as fuck for you,” Eric supplied, looking over to the counter where Chitose was ordering food, impatient as ever. As if Yata wasn’t having a crisis beside him.

“W-w-what?! Don’t say shit like that,” Yata yelled in a hush, never taking his eyes off of Saruhiko. “He was joking last time…”

“Pft, was not. I’m just letting you know that you shouldn’t be so damn stupid about it, he obviously likes you,” Eric said with an irritated sigh. “Who knows why…”

Yata only groaned, not in the mood whatsoever to deal with his friend’s bullshit. In any other situation, he would’ve been ready for a full on verbal standoff, but all his mind could focus on was Saruhiko and his lazy posture and blue eyes…

Great, he sounded like a loser. Since when did he hide from people? What was he supposed to do now? If he could just make a break for the escalator…

Then he felt a light hand touch his shoulder from across the table, and he looked over to be met with Fujishima’s kind gaze.

“Say thank you at least, he really helped us out the other day.”

Images of the rainy day under the bridge flashed in his mind, along with Saruhiko’s light flush and helpful words. He’d helped them, regardless of them being complete strangers…

Thanking him was probably the best thing to do, since without him, they could’ve been in deep trouble.

Yeah…

Like witchcraft, Yata began to consider it. He blinked a few times, cogs in his mind turning as Eric shared one of those secret couple looks with Fujishima that Yata couldn’t stand.

He had a point though…He’d never personally given a proper thank you…he was raised better damn it! Yeah…that’s all he’d say, just a quick thanks. Yeah. Full proof.

If he could get past looking at the other’s face at least…

Wait…no! His brain really did seem to hate him, but he somehow managed to work up the courage to finally stand. If this was what having a crush meant, no matter how small, he was not a fan.

The worse thing was he actually wanted to talk to Saruhiko deep down. Part of him was grateful Fujishima had given him the excuse, though Eric still didn’t seem impressed.

Yata straightened himself up, brushing his clothes off and setting his jaw like he’d never even dove to the floor in the first place. He waved over stupidly in the direction of Saruhiko until those piercing blue eyes picked up the movement and locked on him. Yata shuddered involuntarily. There was that sensation again…

The taller’s eyes widened a fraction, and he looked around, unsure if he was in fact the one being waved to. Unbelievable.

“Saru! Over here!” Yata’s yelling caused a few heads to turn, but not enough for him to be properly sheepish about it.

The taller didn’t seem to appreciate the attention on him as a few people looked, and from a distance Yata could see him click his tongue. Loser.

Yata didn’t realize he’d started smiling.

Saruhiko fumbled a bit before beginning to walk over, and Yata briefly noted his proximity to his friends, and had enough sense to move a few feet away from the table so Eric couldn’t butt in.

“You’re so short, I almost couldn’t see you over all the people,” Saruhiko said upon reaching Yata. The redhead registered the comment, resisting the urge to fight back, before glaring in annoyance.

“I’m not that short! Don’t think you’re better than me!” So much for resisting.

“Mm, and where do you get off exactly, calling me by my first name so casually?” Saruhiko’s tone was playful, like Yata was some amusing test subject. Or at least, more interesting than the other people bustling about the shopping center.

“Well, um—it’s a nice name?”

Shit.

“Yeah, he could say it all day! Or night I mean…” Eric called from the table, completely aware he was being a total dick. The usual. Yata whipped around to glare, noticing as Fujishima tried to quiet Eric down half-heartedly. Thanks.

“Ugh it doesn’t matter! That’s your name!” Yata crossed his arms with a sigh, thinking maybe this hadn’t been such a great idea. He was getting flustered and he didn’t know why.

“And yours?”

Huh?

“W-what?” Yata eyed the other warily, brain struggling to process the turn of the conversation as it entered dangerous territory.

“What’s your name? And don’t just say Yata, because I gathered as much,” Saruhiko said smugly.

“It’s none of your fucking business, that’s—”

“Yata Misaki. You’re welcome.”

Yata was going to kill Eric. Soon. The plan was already forming in his mind, no one would ever know as long as the blood stains came out of his clothes and off his baseball bat.

He was aware of Chitose obnoxiously returning to the table with piles of food, trying his best to whisper but failing. “Hey, is that Yata’s boyfriend from the other week?”

He hated his friends.

“What are you doing here anyways? All you were doing was staring at people like a creep! Are you following me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Misaki. This is the mall you know.”

Well yeah, that was true. Misaki gaped, having no real response. It was the most popular mall in town, given that it had the most stores and food places. Still, why the reserved, yet unfairly good looking, stranger from a week or so earlier was there still wasn’t clear to Yata.

And now he fucking knew his name. Perfect.

Then another thought lodged itself into Yata’s brain, begging to be voiced despite Yata’s confusion.

He’d never exactly seen Saruhiko around before.

“Hey, where did you go to school? I’ve never seen you…ever,” Yata said as the other now leaned against an empty chair from a nearby table, old jeans stretching as he stood dressed in the same jacket from before.

Saruhiko clicked his tongue, looking away, but something about the expression was more troubled this time. “My parents…didn’t really care if I went to school.”

The pout on Saruhiko’s face…wasn’t unappealing, and the fact made Yata swallow. He was totally aware of his friends sitting at the café table a few feet away, whispering and watching like a couple of vultures.

Even then, he felt the conversation was heading down a bad road, so he did his best to lighten it.

“O-oh. That’s lucky though! Still, I’ve never seen you—”

“Does that disappoint you?” Saruhiko had an amused smile on his face again, and he stepped closer. Yata’s face flushed, and he willed himself to believe it was just because of the attention, not the fact there was any kind of attraction for the guy (but that was looking less and less likely).

“N-no! You’re just weird! And you stick out…”

“Actually you blend in pretty well!” Chitose’s voice carried over from the table. “I hear only Yata noticed you when you were standing over there!”

Fuck you.

“Whatever! Don’t listen to them,” Yata huffed, casting his gaze to the floor. “Ugh, just…thanks for the tip the other day! About the underpass I mean.”

Saruhiko shrugged, small smirk still gracing his delicately structured face. “I don’t like the busy areas of the city. I know a lot of short cuts.”

Whoa…so cool…

He stared back up at the taller boy, eyes slightly wide and a grin tugging at the edges of his mouth. He faintly heard Eric hum mockingly in the background, but he for once, couldn’t find the will to care. Things weren’t going to get more humiliating after all.

He wondered, somewhere in the far reaches of his mind, what it must be like to feel drawn to someone. To want to be friends or…whatever, with someone so bad. Did it make your stomach feel this weird?

He shook it off, trying to not shame himself any more than he had already. He was probably overthinking things, he’d never been attracted to someone right out the gate like this. However, it almost felt like a challenge, a feeling he wanted to explore. And where was the harm?

He didn’t know what was happening, or what had come over him, but he was never one to not act on instinct. It was both an insult and a compliment he got a lot. Impulsivity was his strength and weakness. Regardless, he figured it was safe to trust his gut this time, and the words came out before he could even fully process them.

“Can you show me?”

Eyebrows were raised in return, followed by a barely there smile which spoke much louder than words.