#huh? oh glimmer uh�� i just get distracted by how uh… good it feels. yeah that haha

[nightlocked-in]

“peeta is bisexual” you guys are losing the vision. peeta isn’t even straight. katniss INVENTED sexuality for him. whatever katniss identifies as, he’s like “yeah, i’ll take that one” no questions asked

[randomrosewrites]

The aftermath of the tempest

Pairing: Kaedehara Kazuha x GN reader Summary: Many, many years after Kaedehara Kazuha fled from Inazuma, a lot of things have changed, but his past burdens remain. Or, Kazuha has settled into his new life in Liyue, but still desires his home across the ocean. Words: ~2.7K Tags: Fluff, established relationship, Kaz and reader have a kid, gn pronouns for reader, kaz gets emotional at some point, implied beigguang as well

a/n: What's this? Rose is actually writing??!!

Read it on ao3!

The young girl furrows her brows, front teeth catching her lip as she stares at the board. She's in deep concentration, barely paying any mind to the sweets or the apple cider (poured within a much too expensive cup) beside her.

Her opponent, on the other hand, is the opposite, holding a cup of tea within her palms, white steam drifting from the cup the same colour as her hair. A mystical smile on the woman’s face gives nothing away.

The young girl places a hand on a chip. Then hesitates, thinking a moment more before making a move.

The woman sets her cup down, ruby eyes scanning over the board before she lifts a jewelled hand, moving chips across the board in great succession.

"And with that, I believe I win," Ningguang says. "You did very well this time."

The young girl pouts, trying to hold back the tears in her eyes.

"Oh, don't tear up. It's alright," Ningguang produces a handkerchief and holds it out.

The girl takes it gratefully, hiding her face in the cloth. "Uh- huh."

Ningguang exhales. Children are so delicate, like the petals of glaze lilies. "How about you go to the other room? I'll clean up here."

The girl nods, and slides off her chair. "Can I take my juice?"

"Of course, you may. But remember to hold it carefully."

She nods.Holding the cup carefully with two hands, she slides open the silk screen and enters the next room.

Your head turns at the sound, looking up from your spot by the window: perched upon a lounge chair, feet up. You smile and gesture for the girl to sit beside you. She sets her cup down and crawls next to you, burying her face in your chest.

"How did your game go, Haruko?" You ask, combing her hair free of tangles.

Haruko shakes her head and a sniffle escapes her. "I lost."

You hum sympathetically, “I'm sorry. There's always next time. You and Lady Ningguang were playing for a really long time! Good job."

Harukao's grip loosens a smidge. "Thank you."

The screen door slides open again and Ningguang steps through. The material of her gold dress drags behind her as she walks, the movement smooth as water. She has a familiar treat nestled in the palm of her hands, a famous Liyue sweet candy.

You nudge Harkuo gently. She lifts her head, crimson eyes widening when she sees the candy. She scrambles out of your lap.

Seeing them side by side, Haruko looks more like Ningguang’s daughter than yours. Their eye colour and hair are almost identical. But Ningguang has high cheekbones and a sharp jaw, whereas Haruko has round, filled in cheeks, like her father.

"For you," Ningguang offers it to Haruko. "As thanks for an excellent game of checkers."

Haruko takes the candy with an excited beam on her face. "Thank you, Aunt Ningguang!"

“You are most welcome.”

With the candy, Haruko’s sadness about losing the match is all but forgotten. She rummages through one of the cabinets by the wall, pulling out a colouring book (A collection of cartoon-like Rex Lapis drawings in his dragon form) and the crayons that are specifically kept there.

Many years had passed since the first golden house went crashing into the ocean after the battle with the Ancient God Osial. But the loss only pushed Ningguang to rebuild the new one, bigger, more elegant, and efficient than the last.

Currently, it was parked atop Mount Tianheng, overlooking the harbour. It was fancy, the walls a rich cream and the floors polished dark brown. Some things had to be kid-proofed (especially when Haruko was younger and Beidou insisted on bringing her to visit.) But now, she’s old enough, and familiar enough with the building, that you’re not worried. Not even by the koi pond that circles the living room.

Ningguang plants herself across from you on the couch as Haruko begins to colour in Rex Lapis’ tail. “She’s growing bigger and bigger every day.”

You nod in agreement. “I swear, she’ll be taller than her father soon enough.”

Ningguang laughs. “Sooner or later.”

Haruko’s finished two drawings and is on the third when you look outside the window to the Port of Liyue harbour, glimmering with the midday sun. The familiar outline of the Alcor’s sail and ship dots the horizon. You stand up.

"Are you finished with your juice, Haruko? We're going to get ready soon."

She perks up. "Is dad here?"

You smile at her. "Yes. Almost. You want to be the first to greet him, don't you?"

She nods adamantly, hurrying to put away her things in their proper places.

"There are some ingredients in the kitchen if you'd like to prepare a lunch before you depart," Ningguang suggests.

“Thank you,” you say to her, before turning to your daughter. “What would you like to make?”

She thinks for a moment. “What do you think dad would like?”

“Hm. Anything that isn’t fish,” you make your way to the kitchen, Haruko following closely behind. “After a month at sea, I think he’s sick of fish.”

---

Lunch made and packaged, you and Haruko begin the long walk down to the Port. Steps of green plaustrite appear as you walk. They used to frighten Haruko terribly. Now, though, she loves the way they appear under her feet and disappear when she steps off.

“Watch your steps,” you remind her. Though you trust Ningguang’s architects, you want her to be careful.

“Uh-huh,” Haruko says, half-listening. She’s always distractible on these types of days.

Kazuha isn’t a frequent member onboard the Alcor anymore, but occasionally Beidou will plead with him to accompany her. She says his anemo vision makes cutting through enemies so much easier.

Kazuha will go on month-long voyages with the Crux, maybe two months if he feels like it, but refuses anything more. He doesn’t want to spend time away from you or your daughter.

By the time you arrive at the docks, you’re sweating and the Alcor is pulling into the harbour. Haruko hops up on a dock anchor, waving to the ship.

“Hi!”

A deafening honk sounds from the ship, making Haruko laugh. Then again. Then once more. Honk honk honk honk-

Jeez, Ningguang can probably hear the boat from Mount Tianheng.

Haruko stands back just enough so that the sailors can tie the boat off and lower the gangplank, then she’s rushing onboard the ship. A woman hops down from the wheel, holding out her arms as Haruko leaps into them.

“Auntie Beidou!”

“Hiya Haru!” Beidou grins, swinging your daughter around in a bear hug, long brown hair flying everywhere. “How have you been? Jeez, you’re getting tall!”

“Good! Aunt Ningguang said she misses you.”

Beidou’s grin widens. “Has she, now?”

“Beidou,” you greet sweetly. (Walking on board with much more restraint.) “It’s good to see you’re well.”

Her eye softens. Haruko slowly slides out of her arms. “The same to you. I thought you guys were coming to meet us tomorrow?”

Your house, the one you and Kazuha have, is right on the border between Mondstadt and Liyue. It’s far from the port but it’s quiet, nestled by the beaches of Yaoguang Shoal.

“Well, Ningguang offered us to stay last night, so we did. Haruko wanted to see her dad as soon as possible.”

“Ahh, I see. Well, good to see you again.” Beidou turns to Haruko, mischievous smile on her face. “Your dad’s gonna be thrilled, watch this.”

She cups her hands around her mouth and shouts, “Kaz!”

High up on the mast, a tuft of white hair pops out from the crow’s nest. You smile and give a wave. The tuft disappears, and quick as the wind, the man reappears, hastily scaling down the mast.

He jumps the rest of the way and rolls to his feet, brushing white hair from his eyes, and is promptly tackled by Haruko, nearly losing his balance.

“Daddy!” she squeals.

“Haruko,” Kazuha grins, hoisting her up to rest against his side. “It’s been so long. How are you?”

“Good, dad. How was your trip? What did you do? Did you see any scary monsters?”

“Scary monsters, hm, I may have encountered a few.”

“You gotta tell me over lunch – can we eat it in the bird's nest? We made lunch for you!”

“Crow’s nest,” Kazuha corrects gently. “And really? Wow. Did you help make it?”

“Uh-huh! But I’m not telling you what it is; it’s a surprise! You’ll have to open it like a present.”

“That sounds lovely, Haruko. Thank you.”

You walk up to them and press a kiss to Kazuha’s cheek. “Hi, Kaz.”

“Hello, love,” Kazuha purrs, leaning into your touch. “You look stunning.”

Beidou guaffs, Haruko’s nose wrinkles. “Ew.”

(She used to scream at Kazuha to stop whenever he’d recite sappy love poems to you, covering his mouth with both hands so he’d stop talking. It always made you laugh.)

You pull away from Kazuha and save your daughter and Beidou from your ‘gross’ affections. “The journey to Inazuma ok?”

His eyes briefly harden. He smiles tightly. “It was alright.”

There’s a hidden we’ll talk about this later in his voice, unnoticed by Haruko. She wriggles and Kazuha sets her down.

“Can we climb the mast now?”

Kazuha takes her hand, “Ask the captain.”

“Auntie – Captian Beidou, can we climb the mast please?”

Beidou ruffles her head. “Of course you can, kid. Keep an eye out for me on there, yeah?” Then to Kazuha. “I gotta run some errands on land. If I’m not back by the time you’re gone, thanks for everything.”

Kazuha raises a brow. “Might those ‘errands’ have anything to do with that golden brocade you bought?”

Beidou just waves and grins, trotting off the gangplank and jogging towards the Jade Chamber.

---

The crow’s nest is really only meant for one person standing up, much less three adults and one child, but you make it work. Haruko is obviously given the best seat, you’re squashed beside her, and Kazuha balances on the edge of the nest, legs dangling over the air.

“Why can’t I do that?” Haruko asks as you unpack lunch.

“Because it’s dangerous. Your dad’s very experienced and can catch himself if he falls.”

You’ve seen it happen many times before. Kazuha losing his footing or grip, that split second when he fell and your heart stopped. Then the gust of air that followed, propelling himself back up to safety.

“Once you’re bigger, you can do this,” Kazuha says.

Haruko huffs. “You always say that…”

He chuckles and pats her head. “We just want you safe, is all.”

You pass out bowls and chopsticks around. Kazuha helps affix a chopstick holder to Haruko’s (she’s getting better, but it’s still a challenge to her.) Haruko insists Kazuha close his eyes as you pour out lunch.

“Ok, you can open them!” she says once things are all set.

Kazuha opens his eyes. A steaming bowl of Jueyun Guoba rests in his hands. Juicy cuts of ham, crisp Jueyun chilis, and the rich aroma enough to make your mouth water.

“Ta-dah! What do you think?”

“Oh, Haruko, it looks divine. You made this?”

“Yep! Hurry and taste it!”

Kazuha takes a bite, closing his eyes. “Delicious. So tasty. Captain Beidou should hire you as a chef, or better yet, wanmin restaurant should hire you.”

Haruko grins ear to ear, “Hehe, thank you.”

As you all eat, Kazuha tells you all about the adventures from his trips. How he saw the most beautiful of flowers, or how he fought a translucent glowing eel, Captian Beidou cooked it up and ate it, how she was sick for three straight days afterwards.

Haruko listens to him intently, staring at Kazuha with such a light in her eyes that makes your stomach flutter with pride.

You snuggle closer to Haruko, wrapping an arm around her. The three of you like actual crows, tucked high away, safe from the clutches of the outside world.

---

Haruko wears Kazuha out that day.

She seems to want to do everything Kazuha missed for the past month in a single day. You told her she needn’t rush – Kazuha wasn’t going away any time soon - but that didn’t deter her in the slightest.

You soak your feet in the icy ocean and search for seashells in the sand. You catch crystal flies in the old ruins, delighting in the way Haruko’s face lights up when the yellow wings fade, leaving just the core. You scale one of the many stone cliffs just to enjoy the view as Kazuha plays a tune from a passing leaf.

On your way home, you get some mora meat from a vendor and share the remaining candies from Ningguang as the sun dips below the horizon. When Haruko’s eyes begin to droop, Kazuha carries her on his back the rest of the way home.

Kazuha brushes the hair from her face, kissing her forehead delicately. “Good night, my starlight. May your dreams be as sweet as shooting stars.”

“Poetic,” you murmur, barely containing a laugh.

Kazuha’s eyes gleam as the two of you tuck the covers tight around Haruko, kiss her once more for good measure, then gently close the door on her bedroom.

Finally, alone, Kazuha wastes no time in wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his head against your shoulder and sighing.

“Tired, pretty boy?” you ask, a lilt of mirth in your voice.

Kazuha hums in agreement, releasing you to intertwine your fingers. He gazes at you, eyes-half lidded, and presses a smattering of kisses to your hand.

“Shall we go on a walk?”

You glance at Haruko’s bedroom.

“Don’t worry,” Kazuha reassures you. “The wind will watch over her.”

You’re tired, but you’ve also missed Kazuha enough to fight off your slumber. You both wrap up, then make the walk down to the sandy pools of Yougung. The full moon is high in the sky, the breeze cool against your skin.

“Things are still bad over in Inazuma,” Kazuha begins, softly. The wind almost carries his voice away. “It’s gotten better. The vision hunt decree is struck down. Some visions have been returned to the people, but things are still very tense over there…It’s not a place where I want to bring our daughter…”

You squeeze his fingers tightly. It’s felt like ages since you first met Kazuha, when he was just a spry young man onboard the crux. His hair was shorter, he still wore bandages over his arm to hide his injuries from escaping Inazuma.

Now, he lets his hair loose. He wears more Liyue-style clothing. His right hand – the one in your grasp, has healed. Though the physical pain has left, the scars remain.

“I miss my homeland,” Kazuha croaks. “I love what I have with you – I love our home. But a part of me feels forever trapped in Inazuma. Longing for it. I-” He shakes his head, speckles of crystal tears forming in his eyes. Your heart aches at the sight.

“It’s alright, Kazuha,” you wrap your arms around him, rubbing his back. “I can’t begin to understand what that feels like…but I can be here to help you.”

“I just fear-“ he chokes, gripping your shirt. “I fear I’ll never be able to see it again. I’ll never get to bring Haruko to see the cherry blossoms that bloom in spring, or let her feed the cats that roam the islands like wanderers.”

Though you want to, though every part of you wants to assure him he’ll see it, you can’t promise him that. He knows it as well.

You comb your fingers through his hair as his tears stain your shirt. “If that’s the case - If things never get better in our lifetime - then we will make the most of it. Nothing lasts forever. Inazuma will one day change.”

You pull his head from your shoulder to meet his eyes. They’re red and puffy. You rub your thumbs over his cheeks, wiping away tear tracks.

“But no matter what, we’ll see it through together.”

Kazuha covers your hand with his, leaning into your touch. “Thank you, love. I am forever grateful that I get to spend my life with you.”

You rest your forehead against his, pressing forward just enough so your lips touch.

“Forever,” you murmur. “And then beyond where the wind lies.”

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC’s Half Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar Part 4

(The side characters strike again!)

Part 1 Part 2 Lessons 1-5 Part 2.5 Group Retreat Lessons 10-12 Part 3

L!MC= Lucifer’s kid | M!MC= Mammon’s kid | A!MC=Asmo’s kid

Let’s get right to it!

The Uncle That Hardcore Simps For His Spouse In the Most Wholesome Way (Diavolo)

Gasp! More half-demon kids? Oh my! Maybe if he tried again next year a kid of his own would pop down! Hang on- he hadn’t slept with a human in almost a century... dang. No kids for him...

...maybe...

Remember when I said Diavolo would try to do those stereotypical dad (tm) things and be hip with the kids? Yeah he keeps doing that.

The number of broken windows related to wayward baseballs goes up 150%. At least that’s how they all figured out that M!MC is nearsighted like their dad!

M!MC had developed a bit of a habit of telling Diavolo about cool human stuff and making the Crown Prince even more interested in the human world than normal.

You may be thinking “what’s so bad about that?” well, the number of yo-yos at RAD went up so high that Lucifer had to ban them.

Belphie and Satan, being the rebels they are, became yo-yo masters specifically to spite Lucifer.

It was sort of like the fidget spinners craze if you were in school for that.

Oh, hi Lord Diavolo. What’s a fidget spinner? It’s this- I should stop talking...

Since no one learned their lesson from the previous incident, Diavolo threw another BBQ.

“Why are we doing this again?” L!MC asked to no one in particular.

“Don’t worry, L!MC. I’ve taken every precaution possible to make sure that what happened last time doesn’t happen again.” Diavolo said and continued in his crusade to cover the entire pathway with sidewalk chalk doodles.

L!MC, Luke, Diavolo, M!MC, Belphie, and A!MC were all busily drawing a wide variety of doodles and drawings with chalk while the other guests milled around nearby. A!MC was in the middle of drawing quite the nice looking Cerberus chibi, while M!MC and Belphie were drawing a lot of stick figures. L!MC and Luke had just finished a wonderful drawing of... an alpaca? Giraffe? Thing...? Hell, even they didn’t know what it was.

Diavolo looked over at M!MC’s stick figure army with a big smile on his face. “So what are all of them doing? It looks like that one’s flying!”

You could practically hear the Addam’s Family theme play as M!MC and Belphie looked at each other and grinned.

“Oh Belphie was just talking about L!MC’s flying lesson fails and I felt that an artist’s rendition was needed.” M!MC explained, he began to point out certain doodles. “Here’s L!MC getting up off the ground, then there’s them actually flying, and this is them falling in the fountain.”

L!MC looked over at the chalk and glared at M!MC. “It’s generous to call that an artist’s rendition. It looks like crap.”

“And what did you draw?” Belphie smirked at the alpaca-giraffe-thing, Luke protectively covered up the drawing (side note, Luke was wearing white and playing with sidewalk chalk, by the end of the day he looked like a walking pride flag).

“None of your business!” Luke huffed.

“And what about that one?” Diavolo seemed completely oblivious to the hostility brewing between the two groups, A!MC was completely used to this and walked away to grab a drink.

“Ah, good eye, Lord Diavolo!” M!MC chirped. “This is a drawing of the time L!MC almost burned down your kitchen.”

Diavolo laughed and gave M!MC a few pats on the head. “Very accurate!”

“You’re so lucky I followed the rules and didn’t bring a water gun...” L!MC growled as they slowly reached for their backpack.

“Yeah... lucky. Real lucky...” M!MC nodded as they tried to casually reach for their bag, Belphie followed suit.

“I’m so glad we all followed the rules.” Luke smiled, his own hand inching towards his bag.

There was a brief moment of stillness before the four of them whipped out their water guns and pointed them at each other.

“This BBQ ain’t big enough for the both of us!” M!MC’s terrible cowboy impression aside, their gun was poised to shoot directly at Luke and L!MC’s alpaca-giraffe-thing.

“Everyone, I know this is a human world tradition but-”

Belphie silenced Diavolo by pointing his water gun at him. “Sh, don’t talk unless you have a water gun as well.”

Deciding not to smite Belphie for treason, Diavolo pulled his own water gun out of his shirt. “Okay, what now?”

“Now, we’re in a standoff...” L!MC glowered at M!MC, the air was practically crackling with hostility...

Until a burst of flames got everyone to whirl around to see A!MC with hairspray and a lighter.

“No water guns! I refuse to go home shivering and covered in grass again!”

Crisis averted. Everyone went to go fail at throwing beanbags into a hole instead of shooting each other.

That was probably for the best... Belphie filled everyone’s water guns with paint.

The Uncle That Does All the Cooking for Family Dinners (Barbatos)

Remember how I said that Barbs liked smol Lucifer? Yea, he likes smol Asmo too. Smol Asmo is willing to admit that they don’t know how to use an oven and is willing to learn.

M!MC is formally banned from being within 50 feet of the kitchen. It’s for the best.

A!MC often tries to get Barbatos to look into the possible futures so they can see if they can avoid messing anything up and A!MC is just so adorable that Barbatos actually thinks about it.

He still says no every single time.

“Could you at least tell me if I have the possibility of doing something embarrassing in the near future?”

“My apologies, A!MC, but no.”

“P-please?”

“The answer remains the same.”

A!MC sighed and went back to helping chop vegetables. Under Barbatos’ tutelage, A!MC’s cooking ability had increased tenfold, they could now make as many burgers as they wanted without worrying about burning down the kitchen.

Pitying the anxious half-demon, Barbatos sighed. “I cannot confirm nor deny a future where your outfit gets ruined.”

A!MC perked up. “H-huh?”

“I cannot confirm nor deny a future where your outfit gets ruined.”

Quickly understanding what Barbatos was trying to do, A!MC quickly nodded and spent the rest of the cooking time carefully taking note of their surroundings.

“Hey! What’re you guys doin’?” M!MC had managed to get in... damn! Everyone must have been putting their best efforts in keeping Solomon away from the kitchen and forgot about M!MC...

“We’re just finishing up, M!MC,” Barbatos had on his ‘oh no...’ smile. “We don’t need any help.”

“Really? You guys sure?”

“Why are you so interested?” A!MC asked.

“Lucifer said that idle hands are the devil’s playthings and that I should go look for something productive to do.” M!MC huffed. “Very ironic phrase.”

“F-fine, I guess you can...” A!MC searched for the least destructive task they could give. “Take the utensils and set the table.”

M!MC gave them a mock salute and grabbed the utensils, as they turned to leave, they knocked a large bowl of chopped fruit over, sending the fruit pieces flying.

Remembering Barbatos’ prediction, A!MC didn’t bother to try and stop the fruit from falling, they only grabbed the nearest big plate they could find and shielded their outfit from harm. The fruit splattered harmlessly against the shield.

“Whoops... my bad. You alright, A!MC?” M!MC asked as A!MC inspected their outfit.

“Y-yes actually...” A!MC turned to Barbatos, who was already getting the cleaning supplies.

“Thank you!” A!MC whispered.

Barbatos smiled and nodded. “You’re very welcome, A!MC.”

Barbatos now has two sorta-children. A!MC and Luke!

M!MC means well, I swear! He just shouldn’t be allowed in a cooking environment!

The Cousin That Your Mom Points at and Goes “Look at Him, He Helps With the Dishes, Be More Like Him.” (Simeon)

Oh man... time for some more embarrassing stories.

“Asmo was the most adorable child, it’s a shame he was such a troublemaker...”

“Really? My dad?”

“What about mine?”

“I think you can guess.”

I cannot comment on Simeon’s help with flying lessons because I refuse to Headcanon what Simeon’s wings look like until canon gives us a GLIMMER. LIKE SERIOUSLY SOLMARE IM CURIOUS-

I have a feeling the children were quite curious as well.

“What do you think his wings look like?” M!MC asked A!MC as the two peered around the corner of one of the hallways in Purgatory Hall.

“I bet they’re super nice. But besides that...” A!MC leaned over and squinted. “Why is Simeon writing with a pen and pencil? He’s writing a book... shouldn’t he use a computer?”

“Bold of you to assume he knows how to use a computer.” M!MC snickered.

A!MC frowned. “Don’t be mean... I’m sure he knows how...”

Simeon picked up his DDD and took a picture of his face, seemingly by accident, with the flash on, causing him to drop the phone in surprise.

“Probably...”

The two surveyed their angel friend like two wildlife documenters, here we see, the Simeon, not in his natural habitat, surrounded by confusing technology...

“Do you think if we scare him his wings might pop out in surprise?” M!MC wondered aloud, A!MC shrugged.

“Maybe... but I don’t think we should bother him...” A!MC whispered. “He looks busy.”

“What are you two doing?”

It took literally every bit of willpower for the two half demons to not scream in absolute terror at the sudden interruption.

Ah... it was just Solomon... in an apron... Solomon... in cooking clothes...

Oh no.

“Spying on Simeon?” Solomon asked.

“N-no...” A!MC giggled nervously. “Just crouching casually in this hallway...”

“...smooth, A!MC.” M!MC rolled their eyes.

“Well, it’s great that you two are here, I made lunch!”

A!MC and M!MC looked at each other in pure horror, they needed to get out of there!

“Uh- um... we’d love to but...” M!MC looked around frantically before just pointing at a random spot behind Solomon. “LOOK! A DISTRACTION!”

A!MC and M!MC ran out of there as fast as their legs could carry them. Finding out if Simeon had wings was not worth being poisoned. Not at all...

Good ol’ Simeon... Mr. Cristopher Peugeot on the other hand- M!MC had some questions for him.

“TSL is literally the most popular book series ever, does that mean you’re completely loaded?”

“Oh, no I’m not, I don’t have any use for human world money in the Celestial Realm. All the profits go to charity.”

“...Dude really?”

“That’s nice of you, Simeon!”

“You didn’t keep any of it..?”

Wait... Who the Hell Are You..? (Solomon)

So A!MC basically has three dads; Fabulous-dad, butler-dad, and wizard-dad!

“So you just... have capes lying around?”

“Yes, would you like a cape?”

“Okay if they don’t take the cape I want it.”

Solomon shows up to RAD with his nails painted different wacky styles every week, courtesy of A!MC.

Though- the unholy combination that is M!MC and Solomon is feared by all.

“Road work ahead?”

“Uh, yeah I sure hope it does.”

Solomon and M!MC’s rampant quoting of vines elicited another glare from Lucifer.

Despite Solomon having literally been alive since the seven rulers of hell were angels, he had kept up with pop culture fairly decently. Decently enough that M!MC had someone that wasn’t Levi to bounce memes off.

“Pff...” M!MC suppressed a laugh at a seemingly normal water bottle advertisement. “Enslaved moisture.”

“I’m not going crazy, right Simeon? You’re hearing this too?” Lucifer tiredly turned to the angel, who shook his head.

“This is just the tip of the iceberg. Solomon quacked at M!MC earlier and they lost their minds laughing about it.” Simeon shrugged, unbothered by the sorcerer and the half demon’s rampant meme-ing behind them.

Lucifer on the other hand, was quite bothered. Incredibly bothered, if you will. “If you two don’t shut up right now I’m going to-”

“Quick! We must abscond!” Solomon turned and heelied away, followed by M!MC. The shoes that Mammon bought to replace the ones lost during the casino incident were apparently heelies as well...

The day was saved when a rock jammed one of Solomon’s wheels and he slammed face first into the concrete. Yikes... that had to hurt.

A!MC had fun glow in the dark bandaids for Solomon to patch up his face. Even though he he could heal himself with magic, he let A!MC do what they wanted because they were just too adorable to say no to.

Asmo has pictures

The Cousin Squad (tm)

(Luke, L!MC, A!MC, and M!MC)

Ah yes, the bab squad. The most adorable group in the Devildom. Surrender your candy immediately or face destruction.

M!MC teases the crap out of Luke, and A!MC tries to stop it, but L!MC is the one who manages to actually make M!MC stop.

Only L!MC gets to pick on the smol angel. GOT IT?!

A!MC and Luke are already baking buddies because of butler-dad so they get along swimmingly.

Poor Luke’s the victim of many of M!MC’s shenanigans.

Luke: Are you sure this is safe, M!MC?

M!MC (about to put mentos into the bottle of coke Luke is holding): No.

L!MC and A!MC get along really well, being honest, everyone loves A!MC.

A!MC makes sure L!MC gets some sleep because they don’t want their cousin picking up on Lucifer’s habit of living off of coffee and coffee alone. L!MC doesn’t get it but they’re very grateful anyway.

M!MC and A!MC were friends from the start. Well... M!MC decided they were friends right from the start and A!MC did not have the ability to fight the power of friendship.

M!MC: You are being befriended. Please do not resist.

Since M!MC is great and amazing like their pop, they took it upon themselves to be the friend that speaks up when A!MC is too nervous to do so.

M!MC and L!MC? Lucifer and Mammon 2 electric boogaloo. Sorta.

L!MC and M!MC bicker all the time but the babs bounce back from their fights way easier.

One minute they’re at each other’s throats and the next they’re showing each other memes.

“There’s no escaping this.”

Lucifer stood between M!MC and the door... their one way ticket to freedom...

“You need to go to the dentist.”

The entire HOL plus the Purgatory Hall crew were getting ready to go visit the dentist to get their teeth cleaned. It was the time of the year that Mammon dreaded most... and his child felt the same way.

“My teeth are fine! Lemme stay home! I’ll hold down the fort with dad!” M!MC smiled and nodded as enthusiastically as they could, but even the most unobservant person couldn’t miss the sweat beading on their forehead.

“Beel.” Lucifer snapped his fingers and before M!MC could do anything Beel had thrown them over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Don’t worry M!MC, the dentist isn’t that scary.” Beel tried to assure them. By the way M!MC was still kicking and screaming, they were not convinced.

“Y-yeah kiddo, suck it up! Don’t be a baby! I’m just gonna take my car there-”

“MAAAAAAMOOOON?!”

“YIKES!”

Lucifer had the important task of keeping a hold of Mammon as the very large group made their way to the dentist’s office.

A devious little idea popped into L!MC’s head as they all sat down in the waiting room. They began to hum a familiar little tune.

“She said be a deeeentiiiist~ a dentist!” L!MC sang to M!MC, who’s attempts to escape increased tenfold after hearing the song.

A!MC began to hum along, not seeming to notice the commotion going on next to them.

“Son be a deeentiiiiiist~ people will pay you for causing them PAIN! She said be a deeentiiiiiist~”

Belphie perked up and smiled deviously as he realized what L!MC was doing, he began to sing along as well. The three were a veritable choir of terror to poor M!MC. Mammon did not understand his child’s terror and was more unnerved by what a great team Belphie and L!MC made.

Satan rolled his eyes and tried to focus on his book, Asmo was absorbed in his magazine, Levi was having a very in depth conversation with the fish in the aquarium, Simeon and Solomon chatted about school, and Luke was stuck watching the train wreck go down.

Thankfully, it was halted by Lucifer. “L!MC, A!MC, Belphegor, stop tormenting M!MC with show tunes.”

“You would have made a good dentist in another life, Lucifer,” Belphie cooed. “You know what they say, the only difference between a dentist and a sadist is that one has newer magazines.”

Asmo grimaced at his magazine. “Is it the sadist? Because I’m reading a magazine from 1843...”

The conversation was interrupted by one of the dental hygienists coming into the waiting room and saying that Mammon was up first. The Avatar of Greed’s final escape attempt was foiled by Satan (not even looking up from his book) clotheslining him.

Thirty minutes later, Mammon emerged from the forbidden dentist room, with the look of trauma in his eyes and eating a lollipop.

One by one, the group went in, A!MC took it upon themselves to try and make the rapidly panicking Luke feel better.

“It won’t be too scary, in the human world dentists are usually very nice.” A!MC smiled encouragingly.

“I-I’m sure that’s true but...” Luke looked around. “We aren’t in the human world...”

Asmo skipped back in and flashed a blinding grin to the group. “Absolutely perfect, no flaws! It’s your turn, A!MC!”

“If you die I get to say I told ya so!” M!MC shouted as A!MC walked into the dentist’s room.

They did not in fact, die because of the dentist. A!MC walked out and gave a thumbs up. “The dentist said they had never seen a kid with such perfect teeth.”

“That’s my baby!” Asmo chirped.

“M!MC, you’re up.” A!MC and Beel had to practically drag the poor kid out of the room and into the dentist area of doom.

“GO BE A DEEEEEENTIIIIIIST!” Belphie and L!MC shouted one last time as the doors shut. Wow, what dickheads...

Mammon probably would have tried to save his poor little bugger, but he was in the middle an impromptu therapy session with Simeon over the scary scraping dentist knife thingie.

Beel was the last to go, and he walked out of the dentist’s room with his face covered in blood, the dentist walked out after him, missing a hand.

“You tasted like toothpaste.” Beel sighed. “Not good.”

“Don’t worry,” The dentist said to Luke, who looked like he was about to pass out. “My hand will grow back in about four to five minutes.”

Luke, still terrified, nodded. L!MC patted him on the shoulder.

“Anyway, almost all of you are fine, but I have to recommend M!MC to the orthodontist.” The dentist flipped through their notepad one-handed. “Their secondary set of fangs are coming out crooked and need to be corrected with braces immediately.”

M!MC sat calmly for a moment, then attempted to sprint out the door. “NO NO NO NO NO!” One of the dental hygienists grabbed them by the back of their shirt and halted their escape.

“Sucks to be you.” L!MC smirked.

“And L!MC needs to fix their cross bite, braces are a strong possibility.”

The colour drained from L!MC’s face as the news dawned upon them. “Pardon, but what exactly are you talking about..?”

“Your top jaw and bottom jaw aren’t properly lined up.” The dentist explained. “It will lead to problems later if it’s not fixed now.”

Lucifer rubbed his temples and sighed. “L!MC, if you try and run away I swear...”

L!MC stiffened and shook their head. “I’m not some coward, I’m not running away. Just... what exactly are you going to do to my mouth?”

The dentist pulled up a few pictures of the braces and explained what would be done. L!MC nodded, and turned to their father with a big smile on their face.

“It won’t be so bad, mind if I go to the bathroom before I get the mold for my teeth made?”

Lucifer nodded and almost audibly sighed in relief. He basked in the glory of having a child that wasn’t afraid of the dentist and faced their fears like an adult-

L!MC sprinted past the dentist’s office, they had busted out of the bathroom window.

“...Beel.”

“Yep.”

A few minutes later, Beel returned with a completely irate L!MC who was screaming their demands to be put down and be allowed to run for the hills. Taking advantage of the distraction, M!MC ran for the door again, only for Belphie to tap them on the forehead.

M!MC collapsed into a snoring heap on the floor.

“FATHER! DON’T MAKE ME DO THIS!” L!MC practically screamed as they tried to wrestle themselves out of Beel’s bear hug.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “L!MC, calm yourself down. It’s just braces.”

“AS EVERYONE HERE AS MY WITNESSES I’LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU FOR THIS! NEVER!”

The half-demons in need of braces were dragged right back into the dentist’s area... poor fools.

“They’ll be okay... right?” Luke asked.

“Of course they will be. It’s just braces.” Simeon patted Luke on the head. “They’ll both be fine.”

The scream that came from down the hall right after Simeon said that did not reassure anyone.

“Hey,” Mammon piped up. “How much do braces cost?”

“From what I know about dental procedures,” Satan rubbed his chin. “A few thousand Grimm.”

“Mammon if you try and run for that door I will cut your credit card into a thousand pieces.” Lucifer growled.

Overall, it was a fairly average trip to the dentist. 0/10 would not recommend. A few weeks later L!MC and M!MC were fitted with their mouth prisons- I mean braces, and the two cousins bonded over their horrific mouth pain...

Seriously- braces suck.

——————————————

So! Those are the headcanons! Four and a half whole parts... phew... To all the people who enjoyed this series, thank you so so much for reading! You guys have been so super nice!

Fret not, I plan on writing more for this universe! From what I know about season 2 of Obey Me things will get... interesting. Stay tuned for more! Or don’t, I can’t force you.

...or can I?

[batsandbugs]

The Great IKEA Game

Chapter 5: Vent Shenanigans and Keurig Conversations

AN: Okay, this is the last that anyone is going to hear of me for two weeks. Then I’m out of school and will be ready to crank out some more chaos. Until then, I hope you guys enjoy!

Television shows made navigating through vents appear much easier than it was in real life. Then again, they also made being a superhero look easy too, and Marinette was painfully aware how that was false. 

Her knees and back ached from crawling through the low ceiling vents, and though she wasn’t claustrophobic, she was decidedly cramped. And if that’s how she felt, Damian, at more than half a foot taller, had to be doubly suffering. She asked how he was doing.

“I've crawled through far more pleasant vents before,” he replied seriously. “If we could continue quickly, we’ll come out near another vent gate in about ten or so minutes.”

They continued in silence until they came to a fork in the vent.

“Which way?” asked Marinette.

Damian hesitated. “I didn’t see this on the plans.”

“So, you don’t know.”  

“I did not say that.”

“So which way do we go?”

Silence.

Marinette sighed and closed her eyes, poking for the pooled energy inside herself. Being the Guardian of the Miraculous had helped her innate magic to grow in leaps and bounds, but it was her Ladybug powers she ultimately searched for. After being bonded with Tikki for so long, certain… qualities tended to bleed over. One such ability was making decisions infused with good luck. It wasn’t easy, but it was one she had been working hard to master.  

A glimmer of magic burned in her chest, and a fleeting whispered voice told her to turn left. She smiled in the dark of the vent.

“Left,” she said confidently, “we go left.”

“Why?”

Marinette’s smile turned into a smirk, even though Damian couldn’t see her. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

“You wouldn’t be the first to try.” The quickness made the reply appear casual, but Marinette could tell by the steel in his tone it told more truth than intended.

‘Who the hell did I team up with?’ her brain once again asked.

“Let’s leave me off the list,” she said, bypassing the dangerous remark with a gymnast's grace. “Come on.”

She crawled around the corner and, after only a moment’s hesitation, heard Damian follow after her.

Silence reigned for another minute or so before far in the distance they spotted light.

“Oh, thank the Kwamis, an exit,” Marinette muttered.

Damian grumbled behind her. “None of this appeared on the plans.”

“Learn to roll with the flow.” The light grew stronger, so she flicked off her phone flashlight. “Chances are it didn’t take your brothers too long to track me back to our hiding spot. They probably know we’re in the vents. If they found the same plan you did…”

“They won’t have any clue about this.” She could hear the pleased smirk in his voice.

“Exactly.”

The light flooded upwards from the vent floor. The slats in between large enough to view the room below. Marinette crawled over it and maneuvered herself around to face Damian.

“Nice to see your face again.”

The dim light from the vent illuminated his face. “N-Nice to see yours too,” he said. It was at that point, it dawned on Marinette that Damian's view the whole way through the vent was an up close look at her butt. From the heat radiating off her cheeks, it was likely her face was as red as his. She was torn between laughing hysterically and curling into mortified ball and never emerging.

Instead of either of those rational actions though, her mouth, her stupid, stupid mouth, decided to betray her.

“Enjoy the view?” she asked with a grin. ''What are you doing?' She yelled at herself, that was the last thing she wanted to utter.

Damian, if it was even possible, turned redder, and coughed lightly. “You have, uh, your bottom is quite shapely.” By the end of his confession, his voice was a high-pitched squeak, more appropriate for a preteen, then an adult. It took every bit of self-control for Marinette to keep from falling apart laughing.

“Thanks, I exercise,” she responded cheekily. A familiar magical hum settled in her breastbone. Her connection to the Kwamis magic. Marinette held back from rolling her eyes, even as her inner panic grew. One of the Kwamis was helping her to flirt. Probably Plagg judging by her cheesy replies.

‘They are the physical embodiments of the powers of the universe, and they choose to help me flirt. What even is my life?’

“It's working well,” replied Damian, with more of a teasing tone than an embarrassed one, although his cheeks still appeared redder than normal.

“Yeah, well…” Marinette sat there struggling for a reply, when noise from below cut off their impromptu flir- teasing session.

“I swear to God, if I find out who caused the mess in the Market Hall, I'll strangle them with my bare hands,” complained a voice from below.

Marinette winced when she saw Damian looking at her with a raised eyebrow. She hadn’t meant to cause that much damage.

“Oh, come on, Ian, it’s not like it was unscrewed on purpose. A bolt probably loosened and the shelf got bumped into. Blame it on bad luck.”

“Well, can I strangle bad luck then?”

Marinette held back an undainty snort. Plagg's constant whining and complaining coming to mind. ‘There I certain days I definitely want to.’

“I don’t think so. I’m more worried about the giant cart pile up.” At that, Damian raised a second eyebrow, and Marinette shrugged, she didn't controlled what the Bad Luck Balls did. “We’re gonna need to test all the carts to check for any more loose wheels, that’s gonna take forever. Anyway, are you headed home?”

“Yeah, I’m half an hour over the end of my shift,” responded Ian. Marinette could see two people moving around in the room below. “Ooh look, someone brought in doughnuts! You want one Casey?”

“No thanks, still trying to stay on that diet. I just came in here for a drink and then I’m back out on the floor.” The sound of a fridge door opened. “See you next week.”

“Yeah, you too Casey.”

The sound of another door opened leaving the room below silent once more.

“Shopping carts?” Damian asked, half-amused, and half bewildered. “I didn’t hear about that.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Escape was the highest priority, okay?”  

“When would you find the time to accomplish that?”

Marinette hesitated, there was no good explanation to give that would satisfy him. She wouldn’t tell him about the Miraculous or the Kwamis. It was her job, no her duty, to maintain their safety, and after everything she had fought for, bled for, nearly died for... no matter how comfortable he made her, there was no way he'd learn about what she could do. Especially when she had the feeling he was far more than meets the eye. Which didn’t leave much in the way of a good excuse for what she did and how.

Then, as if understanding Marinette’s great need for a distraction, their stomachs rumbled in unison. They looked at each other for a moment before laughing.

Marinette huffed, wiping away a tear of joy from her eye. “Okay, we need to find food to eat.”

Damian nodded. “The food court is a no go now; Drake will monitor it even more closely than before. We could find a vending machine?”

An idea popped into Marinette’s mind. “Or… how about the doughnuts?”

“Huh?”

She pointed down. “This is the breakroom. Ian mentioned doughnuts.”

“That would be stealing.”

“As opposed to the twenty other things we’ve stolen over the course of the past two hours?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “I can back pay those.”

“So, we’ll send them a box of doughnuts once we’ve won. I’m sure the IKEA employees will understand the doughnut's sacrifice to a worthy cause. Besides, breakrooms have coffee machines.”

Damian sneered. “Coffee from a machine will taste will taste like swill.”

“Didn't you say your brother dragged you out of bed at eight this morning? Coffee means caffeine, which means energy.”

He tilted his head and contemplated it for a moment. “Fair point.” He looked at the grate. “It’s probably a ten-foot drop. Can you handle that?”

Marinette had to refrain from rolling her eyes. She had free fallen off the Eiffel Tower before, she could handle a measly ten-foot drop. But Damian wasn't aware of any of that of course. “Yeah, I can do that.”

He dug into his pocket and pulled out the laser pen. “Back up, it’s going to get hot in here.”

Marinette averted her eyes while Damian cut the grate away with the laser, the heat making the metal vent shaft turn into a furnace. She wiped away at a bead of sweat forming at her brow. The grate gave way and clattered against the floor below. Damian put away the laser and gave her a quick smirk. He slipped his legs into the hole where the grate had been and jumped to the floor, landing with a soft thud.

Breathing a sigh of relief at finally leaving the cramped vent, Marinette maneuvered her legs to dangle over the vent opening and slid out, bracing herself for the landing.

But instead of meeting the floor, she found herself caught in mid-air. Damian had her in his grasp, holding her off the floor by a few inches with his strong arms snug around her waist. Their eyes caught and the air between them grew thick with tension. His bare hands brushed against a sliver of her exposed back, the contact sent shivers up her spine.

Neither of them breathed for a brief moment.

“I told you I could handle the drop,” Marinette said, her words barely above a whisper.

“I know.” Damian’s voice matched hers. The look in his eyes impossible to decipher. His arms tightened for a moment, before letting her slip-free.

Marinette smiled, resting her hands against his arms. “Thanks.”

Damian opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it. He stepped back, effectively breaking the bubble around them. Marinette pushed the rapid flutter in her chest away. She could deal with it later when she was far removed from crazy games of hide-and-seek, and dark-skinned boys who made her too comfortable to be safe.

She turned and looked around the room they had dropped into, finding it, thankfully, empty. The last thing they needed was security getting called on them. Spotting the counter with the box of doughnuts on it, Marinette smiled.

She walked over to the box. “Well, it’s no Parisian artisan pastries, but I suppose the chain-restaurant swill will suffice,” she teased, looking back over her shoulder at Damian.  

“Ha, ha, very funny,” he deadpanned. Heading over to the coffee machine to start a new pot. She turned her attention back to the box, the words Krispy Kreme printed on the front in large green letters, several doughnuts still inside.

“Which one do you want?” she asked.

“Anything with chocolate.”

“You have excellent taste.”

“I strive too.” That made Marinette smile. It was such a Chole-like response. She had to make sure never to introduce the two of them.

Marinette pulled out a few doughnuts and put them in the microwave. They would taste much better warm. After a few seconds, she brought the plate over to Damian staring at the ancient coffee machine with distaste.

“Here, you take this.” She pushed the plate of warm doughnuts into his hands. “And I’ll deal with this.” Grabbing a filter to place the pre-crushed coffee grounds into.

“Tt, why don’t they use a Keurig?” he asked with a sneer.

“Uh… because it’s a breakroom in an IKEA?” Marinette was shocked to find a breakroom at all. She’d figured employees would have to lean against the wall if they wanted a break, before being prodded into moving again by their superior. At least, she thought that was what Americans did.

Damian scoffed. “Everyone uses Keurig.”

“Even you, Mr. Machine coffee tastes like swill?”

“No, Alfred makes our coffee in the morning French press style. I do occasionally steal Drake’s Keurig out of his room when he hasn’t slept in four days to watch him cry though.”

“Damian!” she exclaimed.

“What? It’s for his own good. At that point he’s more likely to make a mistake, he needs sleep, not more caffeine.”

Marinette's thoughts flickered to her own Keurig she bought before she left Paris and the number of times she had played out the exact scenario Damian described. “Coffee is a lifestyle.” She grabbed two paper cups and placed one underneath the machine as the coffee dripped.

“It’s a crutch. Drake is a grown man, and he should, mlph-” Marinette cut him off by shoving a chocolate doughnut into his mouth. He glared at her.

“Getting between a determined person and their coffee is a criminal offense and should be punished.” She grabbed a doughnut for herself taking a bite of the sugary pastry. It tasted nothing like her parents’, but her empty stomach didn't care, so it would do. “Who’s Alfred by the way? Another brother?”

Damian took half the doughnut out of his mouth, swallowing the rest. “Most people wouldn’t dare to take the liberties you do with me.”

“Good thing I’m not most people,” Marinette responded with a smile. “You’re avoiding the question.” She took the cup out, now full to the brim of steaming hot coffee, and replaced it with the second.

“No, fortunately, I have no more brothers. Although my father likes to pick up strays so who knows if we’ll obtain another. Alfred is our butler.”

Thankfully, Marinette hadn’t taken a sip of coffee otherwise she might have done a spit-take. “You have a butler?” She had gotten the impression his family was pretty rich, and she was used to her friends having personal staff, but never failed to shock her when this level of luxury was mentioned so casually.

Damian shrugged. “Tt, butler, pseudo-grandfather, the only reason our family functions even semi-normally; same difference.”

Marinette shook her head in exasperation. “If you say so.” She pulled out the second cup, handing it to Damian. He took a sip.

“If mediocre had a taste…”

“Oh, shut up and drink it.”

They devoured their meager rations in silence, going back for seconds on both doughnuts and coffee. Marinette was by no means full when she finished, but at least her stomach wasn’t threatening to eat itself anymore.

“So, where do we go from here?” she asked.

Damian pulled out his phone. “The store closes at nine, which means we either have to avoid my brothers for eight more hours, or…”

“We have to knock them out of the game completely.”

“Exactly.”

“So, are we gonna actually knock them out, or should we just get them kicked out of the store?” She would normally try to avoid the use of excessive force on civilians, but from the few hints Damian had dropped, Marinette figured his family was used to a higher level of insanity. Living in Gotham must have that effect.

“Effective and vicious,” commented Damian, “I like the way you think. As much fun as it would be to knock them out, getting them kicked out is probably the better method. We have… family plans for this evening that potential concussions would make difficult.”

“Who’s our first target?”

“Drake,” said Damian without a moment’s hesitation. “He’s their eyes and ears. The other two are still good at hacking, but he’s the best. Get rid of him, and Grayson and Todd will be scrambling to recover. Plus, he’s the least likely to put up a fight.”

With a plan made, they erased their presence from the breakroom, hiding the lasered off vent grate and discarding their trash. Once confident the coast was clear they snuck out of the breakroom, and into the bowels of the back hallways, leaving nothing but doughnut crumbs and the smell of coffee in their wake.

It was time for the hunters to become the prey.

Tag List (closed, sorry) 

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[mypoisonedvine]

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 4)

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3)

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind.  you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: some awkwardness, and almost-nudity, and a sex scene but not the kind you’re expecting (lol) just fluff y’all!

moodboard and inspiration credit to @evnscvll​

Mrs. Alberti asking you for the rent made you realize a month had passed.  You couldn’t tell if it had gone by quickly or slowly; a little of both, perhaps.

You pulled the finished page from your typewriter and placed it in the stack.  You were finally done with the first chapter; pretty good for a month of time to work, incredible for how distracted you’d been.  Still, as you flipped through the pages you’d worked on, you appreciated that this was simply the very beginning of a very early draft.  You realized you should probably write the ending next, as that was usually how you handled a mystery like this, but you were compelled to try a different method this time and see if you could get the first draft done chronologically.  You got the sense that this story wasn’t going to end the way you’d thought it would when you’d started it...

Your evening jog took a new path this time, one which happened to run right past the smaller cottage that Mrs. Alberti inhabited.  You noticed her windows were open— as they should be on a day as nice as this— and for a second you glanced and saw someone inside…

Wait, is that… Arnold Schwarzenegger?

With a chuckle, you realized that you were seeing the TV.  As you ran further ahead, the angle changed to show it was Sebastian sitting on the end of her bed and watching it.  She’d mentioned that she was going out for groceries today… was he just hanging out in there to get some TV time, or was he taking a break from something he’d been doing for her?

This pressing question needed answers ASAP.  The only solution now was to go inside and talk to him, of course.

His eyes stayed glued on the screen even as you stepped into the house and pushed open the creaky old door to the bedroom.  Seeing the TV again, you realized that this wasn’t just any old Arnold Schwarzenegger movie— it was the best Arnold Schwarzenegger movie.

“Are you watching Terminator?” you asked with incredulous joy, and he finally turned around.

“Da!” he beamed.  “Terminatorul,” he explained, pointing to the television.  “Ma voi intoarce,” he mimicked in a deep voice.

“I’ll be back!” you translated as you realized he was quoting the most iconic line, sitting down next to him on the foot of the bed and watching the movie as well.

It was dubbed in Romanian— technically you couldn’t tell that it was Romanian just by hearing it, but you could tell based on how entranced Sebastian was by it; he must’ve understood what was going on.  The best part was that you understood it too, based mainly on context clues and your vague memory of the movie.  Being able to share something with him was unexpectedly gratifying.    

He was over halfway in, and you were trying to figure out what was going on now; this scene was all a conversation, so it was all lost on you.  Sarah Connor and what’s-his-face talking about something, presumably about how her son was the future leader of the resistance against the machines.  You realized that this was a sort of strange movie.  And why was the guy shirtless for seemingly no reason?  No wonder Sebastian likes this movie, this guy must be his role model, you thought as you chuckled to yourself.

Okay, they weren’t talking anymore… they were kissing.  That’s fine— good for them right?  It’s not weird to watch this right next to Sebastian… although it is weird that they’re still kissing...

Oh god.  This movie has a sex scene?  Why didn’t you remember this part?

You cleared your throat and avoided looking at him.  But that just meant you were staring down the screen, and didn’t that make it seem like you were really into Linda Hamilton getting sensually railed?  So you glanced to him to break the tension and nope, that definitely made it worse as you both suddenly made eye contact and then instantly looked away.  Your heart was racing for no particularly good reason, and your palms were all sweaty— just in time for his hand to brush against yours.  You didn’t want to jerk away for fear of seeming flighty.  Nothing wrong with the side of his hand touching yours, right?

Well, a lot of things were wrong with it, specifically the way that it was making your breaths short and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, but you didn’t want him to know any of that so you stayed still.

It seemed to go on forever, and it would’ve been laughably cheesy if you were with anyone else.  Normally, you had no trouble at all laughing with Sebastian, but this was different.  

“Această parte este... interesantă…” Sebastian mumbled.  

“I didn’t realize it was going to go on this long,” you replied, scratching the back of your neck.  “It’s probably good to break the silen— oh shit, that’s a boob!” you gasped.  “They can show this on TV?!”

Sebastian laughed a bit, apparently noticing how your change in tone conveniently coincided with the nip-slip.  

Just a few more minutes of excruciating awkwardness and it was over; you both let out a not-so-subtle sigh of relief when it ended.

“I thought it would never end,” you chuckled nervously.

“Nu fi gelos, ea nu este nimic în comparație cu tine,” he replied, still looking at you even though you were looking anywhere but back at him.  You weren’t sure you’d ever be able to look him in the eye again after that— not that it had ever been easy for you.  But now that he was staring at you it felt even weirder to not look back.  So you did, just for a second, only to be startled by the sound of the bedroom door opening.

You jumped up from the bed, and Sebastian turned as well.

“Oh!” Mrs. Alberti gasped.  “I didn’t expect to see… both of you in here.”

“Ți-am răsturnat salteaua și ți-am schimbat așternutul,” Sebastian offered as he jumped up, motioning to the bed quickly.  What could he possibly mean by that?

“We were just watching some TV,” you explained.

“Uh huh,” Mrs. Alberti smiled.  “Well, Sebastian, that’ll be all, thank you,” she dismissed him with a smile and a little bow.  

“Mulțumesc. Bună seara,” Sebastian bowed in return, nodding at you before scurrying out of the room.  You started to leave as well, but Mrs. Alberti stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

“Sweetheart, were you two really just watching TV?” she asked quietly, eyebrow raised in question.

“Um, yeah…” you replied, confused.

“Then why did you both jump up like I was interrupting something important?  Seriously, I was concerned you were in the middle of ruining the sheets he’d just put on for me.”

You choked but broke into an awkward grin.  “Uh, I’m not sure.  I guess you just startled us.”

“Yes, well, it’s my room, so you maybe shouldn’t be so surprised when I show up there next time.  You two have the whole house to yourselves, not sure why you had to come all the way over here—”

“Mrs. Alberti, really, it’s not like that,” you assured.

She squinted as she leaned in closer, examining your face.  With her incredibly short stature, she had to pull you down towards her to get a better look.  “Hmph,” she frowned suddenly, “I don’t think you’re lying.  Honestly?  I sort of wish you were.”

“Wh— why?” you stammered.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, “I suppose I thought you two would make a handsome couple.”

“Yeah, well, he’d be doing most of the heavy lifting in that department,” you chuckled.

“You speak poorly of yourself too often,” she frowned again, slapping you on the shoulder.  “You’re perfectly deserving of someone like Sebastian.”

“Well, that’s sort of irrelevant, isn’t it?  We don’t even speak the same language,” you reminded her firmly.

“Did you and your ex-husband speak the same language?” 

You stopped, straightening up and looking back at her with wide eyes.

“I’m old,” she explained with a glimmer in her eye, “but I’m not stupid.  And I’m sorry that you’re going through that.”

“Um, thank you,” you mumbled, still shell shocked from her deduction and from hearing someone refer to your husband as your ex-husband for the first time.  You figured you should get into that habit soon, but it was difficult to imagine.  Even as much as you’d loved being here so far, part of you imagined that it was just a vacation, and soon you’d go home and go back to the life you’d had.  Of course you would go back home someday, it wasn’t like you were moving to the Hungarian countryside, but the home you’d be going back to was going to be entirely unrecognizable to you.  “And, to answer your question,” you continued, “of course my hu— ex-husband spoke English…”

Mrs. Alberti laughed, but in a sad way.  It was the saddest you’d seen her since you’d arrived, even more than when she’d told you about Mr. Alberti’s passing.  “Sweetheart,” she sighed, “obviously you both spoke English.  But I don’t think you spoke the same language at all.”

You furrowed your brows as you pondered that.  You’d known what she meant the first time she said it, but you hadn’t allowed yourself to accept it.  Mostly because it made you immediately realize that she was right about your marriage.  If only she’d thought to tell you before it had ended the way it did.

“Goodnight,” she smiled, stepping past you as you left her room, and her house, and stepped into the night.

You usually worked in your room, but it was feeling a little extra musty this morning so you decided to haul your typewriter to the lakeside and work in the sunshine and fresh air.  You could’ve asked Sebastian to lift it for you, but frankly, you'd been hoping to avoid Sebastian as he had been the biggest barrier to your writing progress so far.  And yet, with your luck, of course he would appear— and not to garden or hammer or do anything like that, but simply to bring you coffee.

"Cafea," he smiled as he offered you the mug.

You accepted it with a smile of your own, although you wondered if he could tell you were nervous.  "Thank you—”

You were cut off by him lifting your empty mug from this morning, which had been holding down all of your completed pages.  The wind inconveniently picked up at that moment, and instantly the pages were swept into the air and right towards the lake.

"Shit!" you yelped as you lept up, pushing him aside to run to the pier.  Still, you couldn't even get close to catching any of them, and watched helplessly as they fell into the water.

You felt yourself be shoved away and didn't realize until he was in the water that it was Sebastian, diving past you to swim after your papers.

"No, don't— it's not worth it!” you called out, but he ignored you, paddling ahead with all the determination and speed of a professional swimmer— maybe he was one before he did this, you wouldn’t know.  You chewed your nails and felt horrifically guilty for all the work he was doing, and with a burst of foreign courage, you found yourself shirking your cardigan and shirt to join him.  Maybe he didn’t mind getting his clothes wet with dirty lake water, but you did.  

As you shimmied your skirt down, he looked back at you and his eyes went a little wide.  When you woke up this morning, you had no intentions of stripping in front of Sebastian, let alone near-skinny dipping with him, but then again, you hadn’t planned on half your novel blowing away either.  

You tossed your clothes aside and took one last stabilizing breath before diving in.

“Fuck, it’s cold!” you screeched once your head was back above the surface, and you heard him laughing.  You weren’t particularly in a laughing mood as you tried to grab the soaked papers around you.

“Arăți ca o pisică care a căzut în cadă,” he chuckled as he swam closer again, holding a ball of wet parchment in his hand and grabbing a few more on the way.

After fishing a few final pages out of the reeds, the two of you awkwardly walked up to the shore.  Now that you were in your underwear with the wind blowing on you, you were jealous of his wet clothes which, while doing almost nothing, did at least shield him from the elements.

You dashed into the cottage side-by-side, like kids racing down the street— though really it was just a matter of self preservation.  When you did make it inside, you started to lay the papers flat on the table to at least start the drying process; you hadn’t even realized he’d left the room until he came back and wrapped a fluffy towel around you, giving you one of those gentle smiles that made your heart just melt.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, noticing the way his hands rested on your shoulders longer than they needed to.  Even through the terrycloth his hands felt strong, and warm, and his touch made you shiver in a way totally irrelevant to the cold.

“Cu plăcere,” he replied.

“It’s a shame you can’t understand me,” you sighed.  Only as you said it aloud did you realize that he did understand you; sure, he didn’t understand the words you were speaking, but, in a way no one else had before, he understood you.  Somehow.

“Nu vorbesc engleza, dar înțeleg limba iubirii,” he spoke softly, nearly a whisper.  “Și cred că înțelegeți și voi asta.”

Even with no idea what he was saying, the way that he was looking at you said even more.  You wanted to kiss him more than you'd wanted anything in a long time, but even in that wretchedly perfect moment you knew it wasn't worth the trouble.  First of all, you couldn't be sure that he felt anywhere near the same way about you.  Secondly, even if he did, this was exactly the wrong time— and place, now that you thought about it— to be starting something.  Thirdly, he probably didn't want to start something at all!  He was just a nice young man who did exceptionally stupid things in order to make you happy.  That's normal handyman stuff, right?

'Odd jobs,' that's what Mrs. Alberti had said he did for her, and for you by extension as a guest in her place.

"Cafea?" Sebastian offered you, stepping back towards the kitchen.

"Yes, thank you," you nodded quickly, smiling at him.  He smiled back and carded his fingers through his damp hair before disappearing into the kitchen to start a fresh pot.

Odd jobs indeed.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Fact or Fiction

Warnings: non-consent (fingering, toys, anal, vaginal, somniphilia)

This is dark!Ransom and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your publisher has died and now you must deal with new management

Note: This came to me out of no where but it was a ride yall. I wanted to write some somniphilia so get ready for some sleep action. Remember to read the warnings my guys and enjoy yourselves. Another double dick fic day.

Sidenote: it is a bit odd to write smut when your bf is listening to barenaked ladies lol

Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

It was funny how things could change in such a short time. More often, it was tragic. Deep in your gut, you had the feeling this change would be the latter. 

You stood in the elevator, counting the floors in dread. A month ago, you felt much differently on your ascent. That was a day full of hope. A young writer on your way to meet THE Harlan Thrombey, manuscript in hand. You’d left even more jubilant than you arrived. He loved it and hadn’t shied away from saying so.

Now he was dead and you feared so too were your hopes of a published book. This day you were to meet with another Thrombey. Ransom Drysdale, his grandson, had inherited the company to the surprise and chagrin of many, including his very own uncle. 

You couldn’t disagree with Walt. Everyone, especially him, expected him to take Harlan’s place. But he didn’t and he was gone now, buried in resent and jealousy. None had seen him since the funeral. Or so you heard. The publishing business could be almost as dramatic as its fictions.

Top floor, you stepped out and were surprised to find that Deb, the former grey-haired receptionist, had been replaced with another. Younger, blonder, and more concerned with her cellphone than the ding of the elevator. You walked up to her round desk and waited for her to look up. She didn’t.

You cleared your throat.

“Hello, I have a one o’clock with Mr. Drysdale,” You said. She nodded and giggled at her phone. “Excuse me…” You looked around and found a rose gold name placard. “...Selina.”

“Fine, go on,” She shrugged. “No one’s in there. Knock first.”

You sighed and glanced around. There were a few editors you recognized from before and they peered over at the receptionist with open detest. You passed her perch and wove between the desks. You assumed, knowing you wouldn’t get an answer from the oblivious blonde, that Ransom had claimed his grandfather’s former office. The letters printed across the clear glass door assured you. That was new too.

You knocked on the frame, afraid to shatter the door. Ransom was squinting at his monitor and didn’t even look over as he waved you on and called to you. 

“Come in.” He shook his head as he huffed at the screen. You entered nervously. “What is it this time?”

“Mr. Drysdale,” You greeted, “I’m here for our appointment.”

His brows drew together as he looked up. He hit a key and turned to you. He sat back in his leather chair as he leaned on the arm. 

“Uh, yeah,” He blinked as he lazily reached over and grabbed a manuscript from the pile atop his desk. “Laura?”

You corrected him and he fished out the proper print and sat up. He opened it but didn’t even pretend to read a single word on the page. He smiled as he shifted closer to his desk.

“Close the door,” He said. “Sit. This shouldn’t take long.”

That didn’t sound good. You did as he said and took the stiff seat across from him. The former cozy leather had been replaced with cold acrylic. He tapped his fingers on the pages and ran his tongue beneath his bottom lip.

“Well, seeing as we’re doing a bit of redecorating around here, we decided to do the same with our writers. Streamline, prioritize,” He began. “My grandfather was a smart man, talented author, but he valued ‘style’ too much over ‘marketability’.”

Your chest tightened and you tried not to show your discomfort.

“Of course,” You said. “It makes sense. New owner, new directions. I understand.”

“Oh, great,” He smirked. “Then you also understand that the contract my grandfather, god rest his soul, promised you, must be reviewed before we go through with the signing?”

“Review?” You frowned.

“It’s the same for all our new writers,” He assured you. “My editors are combing over every word of your manuscript before we throw the ledger across the table.”

“He already read my manuscript, your editors too. I don’t--”

“He’s dead and most of his editors are gone or have taken on new responsibilities,” He interjected. “As you said, new directions.”

“Alright.” You sighed. “And so when will I be informed of the results of this review?”

He tilted his head, amused by your tone as he leaned back once more. He grabbed a pen and tapped it on his lip as he thought.

“Couple weeks.” He said.

“A couple weeks? I’ve already waited over a month for a contract. Now I get the circumstances required it, as tragic as they were, but with all due respect, your offer isn’t the only one I have on this manuscript.” You argued.

“Lesser publishers, no doubt, but you understand that under our submissions guidelines, you cannot accept an exterior deal until we have made an official decision.” He countered. “So, you can wait the three weeks before you march down to Penguin or whatever lowbrow manufacturer you’ve been talking with.”

You stared at him. He was very much unlike his grandfather. Harlan, for all his accomplishments, had an air of humility. Ransom, for all he hadn’t achieved, was entirely arrogant.

“So, you’re holding my book hostage?” You asked.

“I’m allowing you an opportunity provided you have patience,” He returned. “I could say no right now and send you out without a hope of ever signing with us.”

The curve of his lips irked you, along with the loose weave of his sweater. He didn’t dress like the owner of a publishing house; he dressed like a spoiled frat boy. You were quiet as you thought about the much lower offer from Charter books. Modest but respectable. And there were many companies who you had yet to approach.

You stood suddenly and marched over to his desk. You reached over and slid your manuscript across the desk and closed it. You gathered it up and tucked it under your arm.

“I’ll take the no over your games, Mr. Drysdale.” You said as your heart beat wildly. This was either a moment you’d deeply regret or gloriously relive. “I hardly see how sitting on a stack of books will help your profitability.”

He blinked and his smirk fell. Then he scoffed and tossed his pen down.

“Well, you sure are saving me a lot of work,” He mused. “One less pile of kindling hanging around will save my editors hours.”

“Mr. Drysdale,” You said as you backed away from him “I may not have inherited an empire but I think I can see as clear as any that you are out of your depth behind that desk.”

A glimmer of anger broke through his facade and his jaw ticked. He was quick to reclaim his maddening smirk and he shrugged.

“You’re right,” He remarked. “You’re just a writer. Unpublished, at that.”

You nodded and swallowed the insult. You spun and swept back through the door, certain to leave it open. You strode past the reception as she watched some Insta story on a new eye shadow palette. Even Harlan’s name couldn’t atone for buffoonery.

🖊️

Charter Books wasn’t far from Blood Like Wine Publishing. For the second time that week, you were in the heart of the business district. You were tired of waiting. If Charter wanted to publish your work without fanfare, you would take it over waiting on a whim. 

Charles Halford was expecting you and as was your habit, you were early. The building didn’t bring you the same joy as Blood Like Wine had, though now that you thought of it, any such optimism had disappeared. You would settle and hope that this was a back road to a mighty second book. If your luck was to take an upturn, it might even be a sleeper hit.

You were directed to sit along the small line of chairs outside Halford’s office. You balanced your manuscript on your knee as you waited. You fidgeted impatiently and hoped the offer was still open. The email had seemed hopeful and that a meeting was scheduled on such short notice was heartening.

You looked up as the door finally opened. Your heart dropped at the man who stepped out. Ransom’s eyes caught yours as he turned back to Halford and tossed some quip at him. His forced laughter turned your stomach. The men were chummy; too chummy. Was this foreshadowing?

“Anyway, I should get back to it,” Ransom announced. “Figured I’d swing by. Get a few pointers.”

“I’m sure you’ll be back for more,” Charles boomed. “Remember, left to right.”

Ransom rolled his eyes and shook Halford’s hand. He turned and winked at you as he left, a cheery farewell to the receptionist. Halford perked up as he noticed you and distracted you from the unease that bubbled in your stomach.

“Early as always,” He said. “Come on in. We’ll get started.”

“Thanks,” You stood and he gestured you ahead of him. 

You entered his office and waited for him to sit before you did. He dug around for his copy of your manuscript and turned back to you. He didn’t open it as he plopped it on his desk.

“So, you’re still looking for a buyer, huh?” He asked.

“Well, you know there’s so many options,” You said. “I wanted to go somewhere my book fits.”

“Of course, and it’s a great concept,” He replied. “Really… but…”

“But…” You took a breath.

“Well, you know, we’ve had time to think too and we’re more akin to easy reads. Our clientele, they want something simple, straightforward. You have clever prose and intricate devices but… well, that’s not really who we’re selling to.”

“I don’t understand,” You said. “What changed? You made an offer and suddenly it’s just… gone?”

“Look, there’s lot of publishers out there who would be a better match I’m sure and in this era, self-publishing is growing.”

“A publishing house suggesting self-publishing?” You shook your head and stood. You were numb. “I can read between the lines as well as you can, Mr. Halford. Thank you for considering me. I won’t waste your time if you’ve made up your mind.”

“Hey,” He rose and reached across the desk. “There’s always the next book. Maybe one day, we’ll have a chance to work together.”

“I hope so,” You said as you swallowed the bitterness. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out this time,” He said.

“It’s… business.” You sniffed. “I get it.”

🖊️

Charter, Storey, Hackett. Every no made the prospect of a yes even less likely. Your future stared back at you with paid online articles and ridiculous blurbs. It was a living, a meagre one, but it wasn’t your dream. It was starting to seem like a nightmare.

Another rejection and you were ready to burn the damn manuscript. You marched into the lobby that fronted Lucian LLC. You just wanted to go home but if you did that, you’d just sit and sulk as you had for days before. So instead you followed the scent of roasted beans into the coffee shop along the east side of the lobby.

You ordered a skinny latte and found a table in the corner. You dropped the heavy print on the table before you set down your stemmed mug and flopped onto the chair. You leaned your elbows on the table and rubbed your forehead. A cup clinked across from yours and you sat up, startled by the figure before you.

“Long day?” Ransom asked.

You looked around confused.

“What?” You replied. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was walking by actually and I saw you through the window. Almost didn’t recognize you but… you look… tired.” He smirked and you rolled your eyes. “And I saw that manuscript in front of you and thought maybe we could have another chat.”

“I don’t want to talk about you reviewing my book until you decide you don’t want it,” You hissed. 

“Okay, well, what if I told you we could have a yes or no by the end of our discussion, hmm?”

You squinted at him and ran your fingertips down the side of the hot mug. 

“Why?”

“Why?” He repeated coyly.

“What changed your mind?”

“Look, can I help it that I feel a little bad about how it all turned out? Seeing you here, sulking, it really got to me.” He feigned pity.

“I wasn’t sulking,” You insisted. “I was taking a breather between all my meetings. There’s a lot of interest over my book.”

“Is there?” He pulled out the chair opposite you and sat. “Because I made a few calls and I’m pretty sure there isn’t.”

“You what?”

“A lot of people don’t wanna snatch a book out from under the Thrombey stamp,” He explained. “And as far as I’m concerned, we didn’t finish our negotiations.”

You chewed the inside of your lip and considered him. There was a twinkle in his eye. This man would make himself the bane of your existence until he could declare himself the victor. As it was, he might actually be the only prospect you had left.

“Fine. I guess I’m here already. If you want to talk, let’s talk,” You said. 

His eyes sparked as they had back in his office. 

“Alright,” He began tersely, “May I?”

He pointed to your manuscript and you slowly slid it over to him. He turned it and opened it. He bent over it dramatically as he read. You waited as he glossed over a few pages and sat up.

“Promising. I said so to the editors but you understand that it’s not all up to me.” He said. “It’s not that I don’t wanna publish you, I’m just being cautious. This company is my legacy.”

“It’s your grandfather’s legacy,” You affirmed. 

He bit his tongue and blinked. He took a breath before he continued.

“Whatever,” He said. “It is my company now and I have to keep it alive. That means making smart decisions. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I’m just a writer.” You shrugged.

He sighed and reached for his mug. He dribbled a little down his chin and onto his blazer. He swore as he looked down and set his cup back on the table.

“Could you grab some napkins?” He asked. “Shit.”

“Napkins?” You repeated. You knew he was the type to have help but you were not looking to be his nanny.

“Please,” He said sharply as he held up his wet hand. “If you don’t mind.”

You slid out of your chair and grumbled as you crossed the cafe. You pulled out a dozen serviettes from the dispenser and returned to him. You dropped them on the manuscript and he grabbed them impatiently. He wiped up the coffee and left the napkins crumpled beside his cup.

You lifted your own, the foam entirely flat now, and took a sip. The espresso was strong and your cheek twitched. You set it down as you tried not to cough. The caffeine further addled your nerves.

“So what exactly are you offering?” You asked.

“I went over my grandfather’s notes and spoke with my team. It wasn’t all impractical. We can honour the printing terms but may have to tinker with the numbers…” He began and you nodded.

You listened intently as he went over his points and referred to your manuscript several times, flipping pages back and forth. He suggested a sex scene to liven it up but that didn’t really fit the motif of a medieval mystery set in a monastery. That disagreement didn’t last long as he plowed through his terms.

As you listened, you sipped and your head began to ache from the excess of caffeine. Three coffees a day would do that to you. Your stomach flurried as well and you found it increasingly difficult to concentrate. You left the dregs of your latte untouched and touched your stomach.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Drysdale…”

“Ransom,” He corrected.

“Sorry but… uh, I don’t feel very well.” You said. “I think… I hate to do this but I think maybe we should reschedule.”

“Well, there’s not much else to say. I’m sure you could give me an answer before you race off.” He stood as you did. 

You leaned heavily on the table and grabbed your manuscript. You took your bag and groaned. 

“Really, I feel… sick.” You said. “I gotta go.”

“Wait, wait,” He followed as you stumbled past him. You weren’t sure what was happening. Maybe it was the leftovers you ate for dinner last night. “You okay?”

“F-fine,” You shook your head to ward off the haze at the edge of your vision. You checked your phone. “Look, I gotta catch the bus.”

“You sure you can handle that?” He was overly concerned for a man who had as good as laughed you out of your office. “I can drive you.”

“Why would you do that?” You stopped just outside the building.

“Because you’re sweating a lot and I think it’d be a lot quicker to drive than to wait around for transit,” He said. “But hey, your call.”

You stared at him and your head pulsed. You touched your forehead and nodded. “S-sure,” You accepted. “Thanks.”

“Hey, we’ll just take it out of your final offer,” He kidded.

🖊️

Ransom

She barely buckled her seat belt before she was out. She slumped in the seat and thumped against the door at the first corner. Ransom hadn’t expected it to take effect so soon but she had downed her latte quickly. 

When she got up to grab the napkins, he sprinkled the foam with the powder and quickly sat back. The idea hadn’t occurred to him until he spotted her through the glass. The drugging, that was. The thought of what he would do to her had played over in his mind since their first meeting. He couldn’t just let a writer walk all over him like that. He was in charge now.

He glanced over at her as he pulled up his long drive. She was still out like a light. He had to admit, she wasn’t a great beauty but she had a charm about her. And she was perfect to test out his toys on. 

He got out and rounded the car. He opened her door and undid her seatbelt. Her bag and manuscript flopped onto the floor as he lifted her. He closed the door with his foot and carried her up the short walk. She was entirely limp. Completely helpless. He smiled.

He took her to the basement. It had taken more than a year but it was finally ready. Oh and what timing. It was like she was sent to him, just asking for punishment. Her trite little mouth had earned her more than a place on the scholarly blacklist. He had to make sure she paid.

He set her down on the velvet couch and undressed her a piece at a time. He fondled her chest as he bared it and sucked on her nipples just a little. She didn’t move at all. He checked her breathing and carried on. 

When she was naked, he played with her cunt. Spread her legs and poked his fingers inside as he looked her over. She was so tight his cock throbbed at the thought of her walls around him.

He lifted her from the couch and carried her to the special contraption he’d designed himself. He laid her over it on her stomach. The angled board had her ass raised and her legs dangling off the end. He secured her wrists and ankles with the straps to keep her from slipping. He wasn’t worried about resistance.

He moved her hips just slightly and reached under her to spread her pussy. He positioned her clit against the little bump beneath the leather. He took the remote in hand and turned the vibe on. The buzz filled the room and he watched her cunt quiver. He dragged his fingers along it and felt her arousal. She came within minutes.

He walked around her as he thought of what to do to her next. He wheeled over the machine in the corner. He carefully lined up the dildo with her pussy. He pushed it inside of her an inch at a time. He made her take all of it; a whole eight inches of rubber. She didn’t flinch though her breath shuddered. 

He neared her side and lifted her eyelid. He only saw the white as she remained entirely unaware. He rubbed himself through his jeans and turned the vibe up and hit the button for the machine. The dildo moved in and out of her as the device whirred quietly. Her cunt made wet sounds as she was fucked helplessly. 

He went behind her and watched it go in and out. He dialed it up just a little, her body jolting a little from each thrust. He tucked the remote in his pocket and strolled close to her head. He undid his pants and pulled his throbbing dick out. He rubbed it against her lips and smeared his pre-cum around her mouth.

He delved inside as he glanced back to the dildo. He held her head in one hand as his other dove into his pocket and increased the speed yet again. He began to rock his hips and soon kept time with the rubber. He sank so deep into her throat that she choked and her body spasmed. Still she didn’t wake and he could barely stop himself from cumming.

He pulled his cock out of her mouth and a trail of spit dribbled from her lips. He went to the machine and removed it from her glistening cunt. The leather-bound board was soaked with her cum already. It sent a thrill through him and his cock twitched. He growled and turned away as he resisted the urge to fuck her right away.

He went to the chest of drawers and opened it. He pulled out a bottle of lube and clear glass plug. He should start small, he told himself, but he wanted to see her stretch for him. He wanted her to feel him tomorrow.

He crossed to her and squirted the lube between her cheeks. He massaged it over her hole and mixed it with her natural juices. She was so wet he wasn’t sure he even needed the lube. He dipped his fingers inside her pussy a few times before he returned his attention to her ass.

He poked his index finger inside of her. She definitely was unused. He played with her and added another finger and then a third. She quivered as the vibe had her cumming yet again. He peeked up at her to make sure once more that she was still asleep. He didn’t need to be so paranoid. The pills would even have him out for the count.

He pulled his fingers from her ass and positioned the plug against her tight ring. He began slowly, pressing it just until she began to open and then retreating. He paused as he reached to stroke himself. He was so hard it hurt. 

He kept on, each time her hole gaped just a little more around the plug. At its widest breadth, he heard a sleepy grumble escape her. He pushed it just a little more and it slipped in all the way. Her ring closed around its stem and he thought he would cum just at that sight.

He shuddered and calmed himself. He grabbed his cock and tapped the tip against the flat end of the plug. He guided it down along her folds and felt the vibration ripple through him as he brushed against the hidden vibe. He angled himself up to her entrance and held himself there.

He wiggled the plug and slammed into her as hard as he could. Her legs jolted and he thrust again with just as much force. He wanted her to feel it, even in her subconscious. He wanted her to suffer. He picked up a rhythm, violent and frantic as her cunt clung to him. She came and he grunted as he fought to restrain his own climax.

He gripped the plug and pulled it out slowly only to press it back in. He did it again and again as he fucked her. His heavy breaths swirled around him as he watched her asshole gape. He was on fire, desperate for release.

He stopped and removed the plug entirely. He held it by the stem and held it against her back as he slipped his cock out of her cunt. He eagerly entered her ass with a rumble. She was still so fucking tight. He lost it. He fucked her so hard, his special toy shook beneath her. 

His voice got louder and louder as he every thrust sent a ripple through him. He snarled and pulled out suddenly. He stroked his cock as he rubbed the tip along her ass and spilled himself down her thigh. He would have to wait to cum inside her.

He let out a shaky breath as he let go of his cock. He pushed the plug into her ass again and backed away. He left the vibe on as he paced around the room and cracked his neck. A couple minutes and he’d be ready for another go. Maybe he could cum in her mouth this time. That was easy enough to clean up.

🖊️

You awoke with a start. You sat up on your couch and looked around your empty apartment. You winced as you felt an ache in your ass; your cunt too. You hissed and touched yourself gingerly. You glanced down; you wore the same clothes and there was nothing amiss but the thrum in your core.

You shook your head and rubbed your eyes. You could barely remember leaving the cafe but how had you ended up back here? You only remembered the headache and the horrible stomach ache.

You reached for your phone and found several notifications across the lock screen. Foremost was the email from Blood Like Wine Publishing. You opened it and quickly read through it.

‘...I am excited to work with you on your first novel and the company is eager to see this through to its greatest potential.

Hope you feel better and look forward to our meeting next Wednesday,

Ransom Drysdale Editor-in-Chief Blood and Wine Publishing’

You stare at the email in confusion. Had you said yes? Ransom offered you a drive home… then it was all black but you must’ve come to some agreement. You must have found your way into your apartment and passed out on the couch. So why didn’t you remember any of that?

[dindjarindiaries]

Stories and Sunsets

summary: When Cassian has to make regular visits to your medical facility for an injury, you end up becoming much closer than you’d both anticipated.

note: This is anything super fancy or detailed, just a simple and cute little piece to help me ease into writing for a long-time favorite character of mine!

pairing: cassian andor x gn!reader

warnings: blood, broken bones, injuries, good ole fashioned mutual pining, cassian is shy and soft, k2 is… k2, this is my first time writing my dear cassian and i’m sorry if it’s bad

rating: G

word count: 3.952k

masterlist

Of course you’ve heard the stories. Being a medic on the Yavin 4 base has provided you with the unique opportunity to come in contact with all different kinds of Rebellion personnel—from those in tech to those in some of the highest command. Your presence has always been noted as comforting and soothing and that’s caused many patients to practically spill out their life stories to you. That’s why it’s not uncommon that you hear often about people’s work, the things they do and experience, and it’s not unusual that they start to tell the stories of other people, too.

So, of course you’ve heard of Cassian Andor.

He’s always been described as the “silent hero” by your patients, who claim that without his intelligence, most of their battles wouldn’t have been possible. You’re not so sure he’s such a “silent hero” if seemingly everyone reveres him as one—but nevertheless you sit back and you listen, wondering how you’ve never met him yourself. If he’s truly doing these dangerous missions, you’d expect that he’d suffer some kind of injury along the way.

The day he walks through your door, you don’t even know it’s him. You’re much too distracted at first by the subtle bowing of his head as he enters the room, a sign of both respect and reservation. His chestnut eyes swim with an emotion you can’t read from such a distance as he closes the door with his left arm, lifting it to support his right one soon after. He stands and waits for further direction, and you have to force yourself to stay focused as you invite him to sit on your examination table.

“So, which Rebellion hero do I have the honor of working with today?” you greet with your usual cheeriness, turning towards your database to look up your patient’s name.

“Cassian,” he answers, his voice low and rather hushed. You freeze, your fingers hovering over the screen as your eyes widen. You’re grateful that you have your back turned to him.

“Last name?” you go on, pretending as if you haven’t already heard about this man a thousand times over.

“Oh—Andor. Sorry.” His apology is curt yet genuine, causing you to smile to yourself as you type in his name.

“No worries, Captain Andor,” you assure him, pulling up the necessary records you’ll need to treat him. “I must say, I’m surprised you haven’t been in before.”

“You can just call me Cassian,” he insists, his voice getting stronger the more he talks to you. “Please.”

“Of course, Cassian.” Your voice doesn’t hide your smile as you finally turn to face him, watching as his dark gaze rises to meet yours. You can now truly see how deep they are, how this one look alone feels like a bridge connecting two souls together, and you can’t help wondering what he’s gotten people to do in the name of the Rebellion with such a stare. You slap yourself internally at the thought, refusing to lose yourself in the fantasies of the stories you’ve been told in this very room, instead focusing on the very man himself. “What brings you in today?”

“My arm.” Cassian shrugs the shoulder of his right arm, which he’s still supporting with his left one. “I thought it was manageable, but the adrenaline wore off, I returned to base, and—.”

“—Commander Mothma ordered you to come here.” You finish the thought for Cassian, not wanting him to feel as if he’s losing part of his honor as he gives you a small nod. You smile reassuringly down at him. “I’m guessing you don’t like to inconvenience the medics with things you think you can handle on your own.” Cassian nods once again at you, his eyes growing a bit larger at your easy understanding of him. “Well, don’t worry, Cassian. This is my job, after all. You risk your life trying to free the galaxy and I try to reverse the risk.”

Cassian chuckles at that, and for some reason, you feel a swell of pride in your chest for humoring him. “That’s one way to put it.” His gaze then melts into yours again, and he seems to almost drift away from this place for a moment before he clears his throat. “So, uh—my arm.” He taps his fingers gently against his forearm. “I was in a skirmish, and it hit metal hard.”

You nod in understanding, walking closer to his side as you start to reach out for his arm. “May I?” you ask softly, earning a nod as he pulls his left hand away to give you space. You gingerly ease the sleeve of his canvas shirt up to his elbow, allowing a full view of his arm—and the bruised part just in the middle of it. Your fingers ghost over the skin before your eyes meet his again, seeing the small glimmer of fear he tries to hide within the wonder of your tender actions. “I’m going to apply some pressure, tell me the severity of the pain when I do so.”

Cassian nods at you, but the moment you start to press your fingertips down into his flesh, he lets out a hiss from behind gritted teeth—and his left hand instinctively reaches out to grip at your upper arm. You instantly relieve the pressure as Cassian blinks a few times, retracting his hand from you almost as if he’s been burned. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes quickly, his gaze averting yours as he instead focuses on where his hand now grips his thigh. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“I know,” you assure him. “I’ve gotten much more severe reactions, don’t worry.”

Cassian raises an eyebrow as you continue to assess his arm without jostling it around too much. “Really?”

You furrow your brow. “Oh, yeah. Punches, kicks, screams—nothing’s off the table when you’re dealing with some of the stuff I’ve seen.”

Cassian scoffs lightly at that. “I guess our jobs aren’t so different after all.”

You chuckle at that, leaving Cassian’s side for a moment to rummage through your drawers for supplies. “I wouldn’t say that. I can handle a blaster, but I’m no fighter.”

“I’m not a fighter, either.” There’s a hint of amusement in his tone as you set your supplies down by his side. “I’m a spy.”

You hum at Cassian’s words, raising an eyebrow as you reach for a bacta-infused wrap. “Not a fighter, huh?” You look from his arm to his eyes, seeing the ghost of a smile that tugs at his lips and starts to shine in his eyes. “This is quite the wound for a simple spy.” You gingerly begin to wrap the material around his arm, making sure it’s sturdy but not painful as you do so. “This is a break that’d bring any non-trained person to their knees—but you seem to have made it out just fine.”

“Okay, then, I’m a spy who knows how to fight. Better?” Cassian’s words are nothing but playful, now, and you can’t help chuckling as you nod without looking away from his arm.

“Sure. I guess I could consider myself a spy, too.”

Cassian nearly retracts his arm at your words, and you realize you might’ve struck a nerve as you look to see his dark eyes narrowed at you. “And who are you spying on?” His words are void of that earlier playfulness, suspicious thanks to what he’s seen—and you don’t blame him for it.

Instead, you offer him a reassuring smile. “My patients talk, Cassian, because people talk when they’re nervous. Let’s just say I get to know the people of the Rebellion very well after a day’s work.”

Cassian visibly relaxes at your words, the tension falling from his body in waves as you continue your wrapping of his arm. “I see.” He pauses, and you can tell he’s thinking something over deeply before he speaks again. “Who do they talk about?”

You bite back a smile as you finish off the wrap, making sure it’s secure around his arm and up to his hand before you pull your hands away and face him. He’s wearing an expression of curiosity and slight dread. “Yes, I’ve been told stories about you, Cassian.”

You can see Cassian’s face start to flush and he tries to hide it by looking down at his arm that’s now wrapped up, his jaw twitching a bit. “What kinds of stories?”

“Good ones.” You reach for the cloth to form his sling, easing it around his shoulder and bringing the ends back towards his arm. You try to ignore the sparks you feel on your fingertips when they brush against him. “Don’t worry, Cassian. You’re a hero in the Rebellion’s eyes.”

Cassian huffs. “At least I’m a hero to someone.”

You know the comment was meant more to himself, but you can’t help giving him a look of sympathy and sharing your own thoughts once you’ve secured his sling. “If even half of what I’ve heard is true, you deserve the title of hero to everyone. I’m sure what you see and do isn’t easy, but remember what you’re doing it for.”

Cassian still frowns. “And what about people like you?” He gestures with his good hand to where you stand just in front of him. “People who hold us together, but never get any appreciation for it? You know, I’m… not very good about people trying to take care of me, but the way you distracted me effortlessly while you wrapped up my arm just now? That’s—well, it’s remarkable.”

You can feel your face getting hot and you try not to make that obvious, instead bowing your head at him in respect. “Thank you. I’m just doing my job.”

“And you’re doing it very well.” You share a smile that lasts for a long moment, especially as he stands up and faces you more closely. “I can’t thank you enough for your help. I should probably come here more often—you do a much better job than I do.”

You laugh at that, holding a hand up at him. “I wouldn’t leave just yet.” You gesture towards his slinged arm. “You’ve got a bacta-infused wrap on that, which needs to be changed once a day. It’ll hopefully speed up the repairs to the bone so that you’re looking at two weeks of healing instead of more.”

Cassian’s eyes widen at your words and an eyebrow instantly juts up. “Two weeks?”

You grimace at him. “I’m afraid so, Cassian. I’m sorry.”

Cassian shakes his head at you. “Don’t apologize. I appreciate that you’re trying to make it go by faster.” His chestnut eyes are genuine, soft, and you easily feel your gaze melting into them.

You quietly clear your throat and give him a nod. “Like I said, that’s my job.” You begin to clean up your materials, unable to remain under his intense gaze any longer as your mind starts to get distracted in the same way it had when he first walked in the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

You hear Cassian shuffling around behind you. “See you tomorrow…” he pauses, and you can hear him stalling by the door as he waits to ask you something, “what’s your name?” You give him your name, looking over your shoulder to see him nod as he repeats it with a small smile and he leaves.

He doesn’t leave your mind for the entire rest of the day—nor the beginning of the next one.

Cassian’s dark gaze is embedded in your mind, glowing in the way it had when he smiled with amusement and amazement at you. It’d said so much more than he had—which didn’t surprise you, since you could easily tell he was a man more of actions than of words. You have to try your best not to spill something about it to any patients that visit you before he does, instead letting them drive the conversations as you patch them up.

When Cassian finally pushes his way inside, you both can’t help smiling at each other, the action shy for both of you yet so sure. This time, he guides himself right over to the examination table, sitting just as he had the day before as you instantly begin to question him.

“How’s the arm today, Captain?” you ask, earning a chuckle from Cassian’s direction as you get a new wrap out of your drawer. “You weren’t doing any spying around after your appointment yesterday, right?”

“Unless you count briefings as spying, then no,” Cassian assures you, and you see his eyes glowing as you approach him with the wrap. He easily offers up his arm to you, letting you tend to it with the trust of a companion of many years. As you begin to work, he becomes the one to initiate further conversation as proper distraction. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” you assure him, easing his arm out of the sling and starting to gingerly unwrap it.

“You’ve heard a lot of stories about other people, like you said before,” Cassian begins—in a tone that makes it clear he’s been reflecting on this thought for much longer than this very moment—, “but has anyone asked about your story?”

You stop what you’re doing for a moment, your gaze meeting his as you look at him in soft amazement. His eyes are genuinely curious, and if you let yourself give a bit more into your longing, you can also sense some care amongst it all. “No.” Your voice sounds distant, causing you to clear your throat as you resume your actions. “I can’t say anyone has, Cassian.”

“Can I become the first, then?”

You smile at Cassian’s words, nodding as you begin to place the new wrap around his arm. You start to tell him all about how you ended up here, the story of your parents helping early on with the Rebel cause and teaching you all they knew of medicine and healing. They’d been doctors for the Republic, forced to flee your home planet after an invasion during the later part of the Clone Wars. This start to your story alone—all you have time for as you finish off his wrap and tie his sling back up—already has Cassian invested, and you can tell by the way his dark eyes glow in an almost childlike manner up at you.

“So, you started helping out in this fight when you were young?” Cassian asks, not making the move just yet to stand up from the examination table as you discard his old wrap.

“Yes,” you confirm, cleaning up some more of your supplies before you face him again.

“Then, I guess we have another similarity,” Cassian says, giving you a small smile of comfort as he rises. “Do I get the rest of the story tomorrow?”

You nod at him, returning his smile. “Sure, Cassian.”

“Good. Then I have another thing to look forward to.” He then heads for the door, leaving you a flustered mess on your own as you shake your head.

Over the next few days, you get to fill Cassian in on the rest of your story as you replace his wraps. The appointments get drawn out a little bit longer every time, as you both become more and more hesitant to walk out on each other. Once you’re done sharing your story, Cassian gives you his from his own perspective. Your heart breaks for everything he went through as such a young age, but the way he’s been able to grow from it reminds you of yourself. He’s finished sharing his story by your second-to-last appointment, and it just so happens to be at the end of your workday.

“Are you done with your shift?” Cassian questions as he watches you start to shut everything down.

“Yes, for today,” you answer softly.

“Oh. That’s perfect.”

You raise an eyebrow as you stop what you’re doing, looking at him with slight amusement. “And why is that, Captain?”

Cassian shrugs a bit, the action much easier for him with all his healing than it’d been even just days ago. “Because I… well, I wanted to know if you wanted to tour around the base.” You can feel your gaze soften at him as he goes on. “I know you said you wish you could see more, do more—even though you do enough—so I thought maybe I could at least show you more outside of this room.”

His words are a bit of a ramble, and you can’t help giggling to yourself at the fact that you’ve got the famous Captain Andor flustered on your examination table. “I think that’d be very nice, Cassian.”

Cassian’s eyes light up at you, and he nods as he practically leaps up from the table. “Yeah? That’s great.” He waits for you to finish up, getting the door for you on the way out. “Maybe we could start with my ship.”

You shrug, looking over at him with a warm smile. “That sounds good to me.”

Cassian leads you over to the hangar, where seemingly every single passerby greets him with a respectful “Captain” or a simple nod and wave of their hands. You can’t help raising an eyebrow and looking over at him, watching him scoff playfully at you. “What?”

“Still think you’re not a hero?” There’s nothing but amusement in your voice, and Cassian easily accepts it as he rolls his eyes with a smile. You’ve already arrived at his ship and he leads you inside with a dramatic sweep of his left arm.

“Here she is,” Cassian announces as he shows you the hull, causing you to chuckle.

“Here is who—,” a mechanical voice starts to say, but then cuts itself off. You look further inside and see a black Imperial droid—one you’d heard about in the stories of Cassian’s adventures.

“Kay, you didn’t tell me you were fixing her up tonight,” Cassian sighs, and you watch as the droid tilts his helmet in your direction. He gestures to you. “This is—.”

“—that medic you always talk about,” the droid finishes for Cassian, and you have to hold back a chuckle as Cassian’s face starts to go red. “I figured.”

“I don’t always…” Cassian trails off, heaving another sigh as he places his good hand on his hip. He gives his head a shake. “You’re losing it, Kay.”

“I’m simply reporting what I’ve observed,” the droid insists.

“I’m sorry,” Cassian apologizes to you, raising his brow as he gestures to the droid. “Kay’s probably got a few loose wires.”

“I do not, thank you very much,” the droid retorts. “My diagnostics are looking perfect, actually.” Cassian rolls his eyes, and you giggle to yourself at their playful exchange. “The least you could do is introduce me, too. I’m—.”

“K-2SO,” you finish for him, nodding in his direction. “I know. I’ve heard.”

K2 sits up taller in his chair. “You’ve heard about me?” He then looks pointedly at Cassian. “Oh, I’m sure you have.”

“I didn’t tell them anything,” Cassian snaps, and you can’t help laughing at their banter that’s not unlike an old married couple.

“My patients like to tell stories, K2,” you assure the droid. “You’ve been named in a few I’ve heard of Cassian.”

K2 goes back to what he was doing as he replies. “I’m glad that I’m finally getting some recognition around here.” Cassian raises an eyebrow at his words. “I hope it’s the good kind.”

“Nothing short of heroic,” you inform him.

K2 turns back around at that, looking at Cassian with brightened electric eyes. “I like them, Cassian. Try not to scare them away.”

“I don’t think I’d be the one to do that,” Cassian scoffs, making you chuckle as he starts to lead the way back out of the ship. When you’re a few paces away, he begins to speak again, this time reverting to his shyer self as he looks over at you. “I’m sorry about him, he’s… gotten pretty bold. I think it’s his programming.”

You laugh softly and lay a hand upon his shoulder. “It’s all right, Cassian. I think he was pretty funny.”

“At least one of us does.”

You laugh again and let your hand fall back to your side, remaining attentive as Cassian takes you through the mini-tour of the base. There’s already quite a few things you’ve already seen, so he just gives you a feel for what he sees on a typical day. You can see the small amount of pride he takes in his work, something you know he probably doesn’t often reflect upon, and it causes you to smile. You know why he’s been revered the way he has—and you find that you’re much more interested in this part of the cause than you’d even thought before.

This is something Cassian picks up on as he takes you to his final spot, a place high up in the base where he can rest and reflect after a long day or mission and watch the sunset. He sits beside you in silence initially, but after you share a few looks, he starts to speak again.

“I’ve been thinking,” Cassian starts, his voice low and unsure as his gaze nervously points to the setting sun. You look at him with a comforting gaze and a raised brow, wanting to ease him yet also feeling curious. “Kay and I, we could probably use some more company. Things have started to get risky on our own.” You begin smiling, easily understanding what he’s hinting at. “Especially when it comes to quick fixes—you know, medically—.”

“Captain Andor, is this an invitation to join your crew?”

Cassian looks over at you quickly, reading your expression with precision as some of the tension starts to fall off his shoulders. “I mean, if you’re willing to. I know you’ve got a secure enough position here, but… if you wanted to see and do more, we’d love to have you.”

Your smile grows as you nod at him. “I think I’d like that a lot, Cassian.”

His chestnut eyes glow even more at that, and you can feel a fluttering in your chest as a smile takes over his lips. “Really?” He then clears his throat, giving you a nod. “Great. I can talk to my superiors about it tomorrow.”

You nod, unable to keep the smile off your lips as you look out at the view with him. “You have to teach me how to use a blaster, though.”

Cassian looks over at you with a raised brow. “Don’t worry, we’ll be spending a lot of time training together.”

You look over at him with warmth in your eyes. “I like the sound of that, Cassian,” you confess, gently nudging his shoulder with your own.

“So do I,” he agrees, his gaze sharing that same warmth as he lets you get just a bit closer to him—and you know this is just the beginning of something bigger than you ever could’ve thought up the day he walked through your door.

permanent tag list: @mikahidalgo @bestintheparsec @stilllivindue2spite @givemethatgold @xbrujita @mandalorianspace @blushingwueen @sevvysaurus @myakai13 @thisis-theway @beskars @rachelloveseveryone @theindiealto @hiscyarika @wickedfrsgrl @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @bookwafflefangirl @charliepeaceout @cable-kenobi @ezraslittleblondestreak @hdlynn @your-pixels-are-showing @b0n-chann @javier-djarin @nettyklecan @mistermiraclee @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @smellssharpies @catfishingmorales @badassbaker @wille-zarr @kaetastic @saltywintersoldat @agentpike @mrsparknuts @readsalot73​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @mandhoelorian @lilangeldevil006 @cyaredindjarin @roxypeanut @phoenixhalliwell @hail-doodles @randomness501 @this-cat-is-dea @hopplessdreamer @paintballkid711 @captain-skytrash @whataenginerd @katlikeme @petertingless @propertyofdindjarin @theocatkov @bisexual-space-slut @cyaredindjarin​ @arkofblake​ @cryptkeepersoul​ @motleymoose​ @mrschiltoncat​ @f0rever15elf​ @lady-of-nightmares-and-heartache

star wars characters tag list: @professionalfangirl55 @nerd-without-a-cause​ @starwarsslytherin​

[vminity21]

Even in the Rain | knj [Part 1]

Pairing: friend!Namjoon X female!reader, exboyfriend!Jimin X bakeryreviewer!reader, friendshiptolovers!au, bakery!au, forbiddenlove!au

Word Count: 18,482

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Warning(s):  foul language use, angst involving an ex-boyfriend, mention of alcohol on multiple occasions, mention of infidelity, mention of smoking, eventual smut (potentially in part 2), slow burn, taehyung and jimin are jerks in the story, based on the kdrama, Something in the Rain, i do not own the rights or the show; Rated: pg 13

Summary: Namjoon has been in love with you for what seems like forever. Despite you being five years older, him being your best friend’s brother, on top of your brother, Kim Seokjin, being one of Namjoon’s best friends- nothing will stop him from getting you to notice him, and he also will not let your relentless ex-boyfriend stand in the way of him winning your heart. You, on the other hand, an observer of bakeries notices the feelings Namjoon is starting to etch upon your heart; amidst this budding love, your mind is also confused upon the strange incidents happening between the bakeries planning to franchise together. But, who would want to jeopardize the businesses?

Credit to: @suhdays​ for such a beautiful cover!

The dreary clouds serenade the atmosphere with panging rain droplets while a faint brush of a sigh escapes your lips. Shoving loose hair from your ponytail behind your ears, you steady the umbrella above you- knuckles white from the grip you have on the handle. Once again, you’re scheduled to observe Jeon’s Bakery in downtown Busan- a thriving shop owned by the richest couple ever known, soon being passed down to their eldest son, Jung-hyun, whom you’ve had the pleasure of knowing throughout the years.

Stepping into the bakery- the cozy atmosphere brings a warmth you’ve been needing since you woke up this morning- shaking your umbrella through the crack of the glass door onto the sidewalk, you then return to face the dimly lit décor, leaning your umbrella along the wall. Aromas of freshly baked pastries waft in your direction while you inhale a hint of strawberry. Glistening sweets line beneath the glass cases while heated lights keep them appealing; the other side holds numerous cakes, decked with different colors or flavors- your stomach growling at the desire to purchase a treat or two before leaving.

“Ah, welcome,” Jung-hyun greets with a brief handshake and bow, though the nervous tension crinkles at the edges of his eyes. You, being one of the top members of the corporation, who franchises with Jeon’s Bakery, your reviews are very important- and, with the plans of opening another bakery along with a competing bakery on the other side of town, Jung-hyun is aware of the pressure his family line has to maintain a clean, yet successful business. Of course, with the hopes of the competing bakery, Ji Woo’s Café, signing the contract to officially set the opening date.

“How do you do,” you nod, hearing the padding footsteps of the employees rushing to stand at your presence. One, you recognize to be the youngest brother, Jeon Jungkook, folding his hands in front of him, while his eyes remain cast downward- brown hair swooping over his forehead while he timorously chews at the corner of his mouth. “My, how he’s grown,” you smile, his wide stare greeting yours with a timid bow.

“Just turned eighteen nearly two months ago,” Jung-hyun nods at his brother with pride before returning his gaze to you, “Next thing I know, it’ll be me handing the business to him,”

You can’t help the feeling of dread at how many years you’ve been a part of your job- essentially instructing cleaning reviews or food violations that are still not being met- and you hardly ever admit the gray hairs that you’ve remained to consistently pluck since your twenty-eighth birthday not too long ago. With a long glance around the bakery, you bring your clipboard forward while the click of your heels gives some sort of sound other than the rain prodding the rooftop.

“It is a bit dusty in this section here,” you run a finger over a shelf dawning coffee mugs and other trinkets, rubbing your fingertips together while an employee sprints with a damp cloth to clean the area you pointed out, “And the floor needs to be swept more thoroughly, I can see some crumbs even from this distance,” you hate sounding so nitpicky, but your boss Kim Taehyung, can be, and he expects a lot out of these businesses, so you maintain your duty in making sure everything is spotless, especially since you don’t want anyone, especially the Jeons’, to have to deal with Taehyung’s wrath.

Reaching the cold foods section, you tamper through the packages to check expiration dates, noticing a few will be out of date within the next week, “And, also, Mr. Jeon, make sure to check the expiration dates often, we want customers to be given exactly what they’re paying for without the risk of stomach upset,”

“Yes ma’am,” he bows obediently, while you study the rest of the store before turning to face every employee. A young girl, one who has avoided eye contact nearly your entire visit, cuddles into her thin sweater, your eyes falling to notice her open-toed shoes, “I know accidents may happen from time to time, but with heavy machinery, we use in the back to create such desserts, closed-toed shoes are a must,” though when first starting the job, you used to be afraid to single individuals out, with so many years of experience, it has become immune. “Let this be a warning, okay?” The girl nods in shame, though you give her a look of understanding.

One more detailed sweep, you give Jung-hyun a copy of the notes you made with the direction to continue his work. Reaching for your umbrella, you notice the heavy rain has died down to a soft sprinkle, and once the smell of the rain fills your nostrils, you still open your umbrella in an attempt to protect your outfit since you will be returning to work to finish out the day.

The familiar ‘ding’ of a text tone distracts once your clicking heels round a street where Jeon’s Bakery officially disappears behind you- retrieving it from your pocket, you realize it’s a text from your almost year-long boyfriend, Park Jimin.

Jiminie: ‘Dinner tonight? I think we need to talk,’

Just the simple text, with just a simple intent, with a simple meaning- or what is supposed to be simple- brings a strange feeling the moment you read it. Hardly watching the direction you’re heading, you’re very thankful when the ringtone assigned to your best friend jingles, prompting you to answer immediately,

“How, did you know to call me, right at this exact moment?” Your fingers feel ice cold upon your cheek once the phone is at your ear- and the tiny pain in your stomach is hard to ignore mingled with the bundles of nerves fluttering within your system.

“Glad to know I’m number one on your mind,” your childhood best friend, Monica, teases while a knowing smirk tugs at the corner of your lips. “I’m assuming something’s up?”

“Yeah,” you exhale, brushing past a few pedestrians while your eyes cautiously trail the sidewalk to prevent from tripping over something, “It’s Jimin,”

“Hm,” Monnie hums, the crunch of a carrot sounding through the staticky phone line, “Please tell me you two didn’t fight. Again,”

If the humiliation rising within your chest isn’t obvious enough, you squeeze your eyes shut momentarily, trying to suppress the memory of the past month or two within your conscious, “He’s been going on and on about that promotion,”

“And,” Monnie adds, “Let’s not forget you’ve made it clear that you’re not planning on leaving Busan.”

“I know, I know,” the solitude of the area you’re in seems silent, way too silent, and maybe it’s due to the budding sadness. Jimin’s job is wanting to take him to Seoul- nearly 325 kilometers away from where you’ve grown up- where you’ve held a successful job- and, where your family and friends reside. The two of you have been battling it out for what feels like too long, emotionally draining you just as evenly as the stress from your job, “I just wish he would just understand my side for once,” your voice is hushed as if he can hear you, Monica nodding on the other end though you cannot see it.

“Well, how about you change his mind,” a devious tone evident in her voice, “Give him something he wouldn’t want to miss out on if you catch my drift,”

“You are such a tease,” you shake your head incredulously, “But, you have a good point,”

“Uh-huh, when do I not?”

Sauntering minutes longer past the numerous rows of shops, you end the phone call with Monica before your eyes fall upon a small boutique with mannequins adorned in glimmering dresses poised behind the glass window. Maybe an ounce of hope decides to arise, especially the second it leads you into the shop, trying on a few dresses in the mirror until you’ve made your decision.

The dress hugs all the right curves while you run your hands over the fabric- loose curls tickle your shoulders, yet the dress is modest enough to leave mystery- leave eyes lingering whilst you walk by. Except, the moment Jimin takes a seat before you, across the table within your favorite restaurant, his eyes seem to pay more attention to his wine glass rather than sweeping you. His thick lips lay in an obvious grimace, disinterest in his expression to every word you say, yet you remain unaltered, showing him no sign of notice, until he interrupts you,

“I received news today,” he clears his throat, your mouth slightly agape while your eyes widen in anticipation for what he’s about to say next, “They’re promoting me. It’s official,”

“Oh, Jimin,” you breathe, though you’re happy his job is recognizing him for his outstanding work in his job field, you can’t help the sorrow plaguing you at what you know is considered the next step, “I’m so happy for you,” you feign enthusiasm, but he sees right through you, especially when his brown eyes nearly smother your gaze with disbelief, “When- when is the big day?”

“Two weeks,” He counters, eyes falling back to his drink, “Have to clean out my apartment, and leave within two weeks,”

“Two weeks?” You’re caught off guard by the sudden answer, not even giving you enough time to process, one- that your boyfriend of nearly a year will be leaving so soon whether you move with him or not, and two- the realization that maybe, no matter how hard you try to get him to understand you, he just simply won’t. “But that’s so sudden-”

“Just come with me,” he’s exasperated, waving a hand once in the air, “If you’re really as happy for me as you say you are, you’d come,”

“Excuse me?”

“What is it about Busan that you just can’t seem to let go? We will be able to visit family if that’s what you’re afraid of,”

“Jimin, we’ve already discussed this,” you run your hands over the bridge of your nose propping your elbows onto the table, while you try with all your might to calm the anger, “I have a steady job here, one I will not be able to transfer. I’m not ready to just give up my life like this, what part of that do you not understand?” You peer through your hands, “And, I mean, if there’s anything I don’t understand, is if you can visit as often as you say you can, then how come a long-distance relationship sounds so revolting to you?”

Frustration drips from him when he leans back into his chair, eyes scoping the side of the restaurant while his lips press into a firm line. A thought that failed to occur to you from previous arguments dawns,

“Wait,” you inhale, “Are you afraid… that you’ll start seeing someone else?” When he abruptly meets your gaze, your elbows fall to your sides, “Jimin?”

Shaking his head, “Forget it,”

“Then what is it?” You question, “If not that, then what is it?” Investigating his eyes, you’re nearly brought to your knees from the heartbreak wrenching within you, “If this is something that leaves such distaste in your mouth then why not just break up with me?” Without a second thought, you stand to your feet, not even sure how you’re able to with how your body is trembling, but you maintain your balance while you thrust your trench coat on, “You know what? I’ll do the honors,”

He follows you out the door in a mild panic, though he remembers to leave cash behind to pay for the meal. Declining the ride, he offers, you can’t even speak nor look in his direction, your heart-shattering in a million pieces especially when his presence leaves without even a speck of desire to fight for you. You’re rendered speechless the entire walk of the chilly night- shooting a text to Monnie to meet you at a local bar- her treating you to multiple drinks- gulping them down with the intention of drowning in your sorrows.

“Okay, I’m going to need you to stop,” she motions for the waiter to scatter any empty glasses he can before you down your final drops, “Besides, you’re the one who dumped him, so am I missing something?”

“No,” you drag out the word, your head dizzy from the heavy buzz you feel, “You and I both know this is something that’s not easily forgettable,”

“Maybe you’re right, but really, [Y/N], you’re going to make yourself sick,”

“And what if I do? What’s it going to change?” Your words slur, while you lean onto your knuckles- your eyelids squinted in a hazy glance. Mo’s concern is all you can envision while she lightly taps your arm.

“If he were worth it, he’d stay in a relationship with you despite any distance,” her voice softens, her turning to get you to rest on her shoulder, “Besides, if I were him, I wouldn’t have let you walk away, especially with how that dress snugs your ass,”

Cackles erupt from your throat while you lean more into her frame for comfort, “Shut up, no it doesn’t,”

Flabbergasted, she pulls away just enough to stare down at your glossy eyes, “Girl, you look like a twelve outta ten, would recommend, and any asshole would be stupid to let a dime piece like you go,”

“You mean it?”

“Of course,” she wraps an arm under your shoulders to help you steady on your feet, “Now, I’m going to take you home. Your brother is coming home tomorrow as well as mine, and the last thing I need is for them to smell alcohol on your breath,”

“But, but- I’m- I’m not done yet. Just one more,”

“No! Are you insane?”

“Monnie, please, just one more. Just one-”

“Drinking isn’t going to make Jimin’s absence any less painful, now come on, you need to get home,” Reluctantly, you obey, faltering into your home while your parents, who are retired, stare at you with mirrored worry, you immediately bowing in apology before stumbling to your bedroom. The following morning hits you like an ocean wave, your head thudding while you force yourself to sit up- the shower awakens you just enough for you to function, and the minute you’re dressed with a towel wrapped around your drenched hair- you open the door to be greeted by your younger brother, Kim Seokjin.

“You look like you’ve been trampled by ten elephants,” his arms outspread while you gasp,

“Seokjin! You’re home!” Crashing into his arms, he hugs you tight, the safety you feel with him finally returning home brings serenity to the household. You haven’t seen your brother in four years with him studying abroad in America, which reminds you that it must mean Monnie’s brother, Kim Namjoon, who studied the same program as Seokjin, is home, too- though you vaguely remember your best friend making that statement last night before taking you home.

Leaning back to playfully smack his shoulder, you tease, “Don’t think I forgot about what you just said a second ago! Remember, I am your elder,”

The familiar windshield wiper laugh sounds while his shoulders shake, “By what, a few years? And don’t think I didn’t hear about you coming home wasted last night,”

With a roll of the eyes, you hear your mother starting up food in the kitchen, “It’s complicated, but,” with a quick sweep, you notice, Seokjin is wearing an outfit as if he’s about to head out, a backpack still hanging off his shoulders, “But- wait, aren’t you staying?”

“Mom, didn’t tell you? I’m moving out with one of my past friends. Remember, Hoseok?” 

“Ah,” a lightbulb clicks, “The one whose parents own the competing bakery? The one we used to raid when we were children?”

“Yes, that’s the one,”

You remember Seokjin and Hoseok were thick as thieves growing up, so with a curt nod, you elbow your brother’s side, “Good idea rooming with him, but you better visit me. I literally haven’t seen you other than through a phone screen,”

“You know I will,” He promises, “No more phone screen,”

As much as the two of you love your mother, she can be overbearing at times- and, you can’t help with how hard it is to stifle laughter as you watch her pester Seokjin as he’s leaving, “Please eat once you get there since you won’t stay for the meal I cooked- and, please text me once you arrive- remain in good health for me okay- don’t do anything you will regret-”

Seokjin waves goodbye before your mother follows you to the kitchen. Of course, she isn’t going to ignore the incident of you rummaging to make a cup of coffee in an attempt to remedy the hangover you know you deserve after how much you chugged the night before. Unaware of the situation that caused your drunken state, your shoulders tense the moment you hear his name,

“I thought you were with Jimin last night? He’s never let you drink more than one glass. Very insolent of him if you ask me,”

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that anymore,” you mumble against the rim of the coffee mug.

“I guess I can forgive him this one time, invite him over sometimes so I can cook you both some dinner. It’s about time for you to settle down and marry-”

At this point, you’re increasingly aware of how late you will be to work if you continue to listen to your mom banter about your ex-boyfriend, one you can’t bring yourself to reveal in fear of disappointing your mother. Although, your father offers to give you a ride, you politely decline, making your way to the nearest station before sprinting into the building of your job.

From the poker face, Taehyung has while everyone files in to their seats, your coworkers LenLen and Shai take a quick seat on either side of you- Yoongi, handy with the technological side of the business gets the screen to load to where everyone can see it. Chairs turned in the same direction, you swallow nervously when a picture of what looks to be bags of flour are revealed to have picked up pesky moths, and the horror you feel when it’s the same store your brother’s childhood friend has grown-up knowing: Ji Woo’s Cafe.

“This,” Taehyung’s voice booms while gesturing toward the screen, “Is unacceptable.”

With slumping shoulders, everyone knows he isn’t wrong, but it’s the embarrassment of knowing this has been missed.

“Who is in charge of keeping up with this particular franchise?”

LenLen hesitates beside you though you’re of knowledge that she is, in fact, the supervisor of the Jung’s shop. You don’t even hesitate to stick up for her, promising you will get to the bottom of this ordeal being that you know the Jungs’ personally. The bus ride over doesn’t take long, but you figure it’s from the trepidation of having to face a family you haven’t seen in so many years over something that wasn’t necessarily in their control. When arriving, the first face you see is Jung Hoseok, messy hair frilly across his forehead with your brother rounding the corner putting on his apron. It takes a prolonged second for everyone to register each other’s presence, and you factor in that maybe they hired a moving company to assist in helping them unpack their belongings. Or, perhaps, Seokjin is staying with Hoseok’s parents for the time being until the two can find a place of their own. Either way, your eyes flicker between the stunned pair prompting you to clear your throat- pressing the tip of your pen onto the pad of paper upon your clipboard.

“Hello, Gentlemen, you may have been aware, but it has been brought to corporate’s attention about flour bags being infested with moths?”

Hoseok wets his lips, frantically looking over at Seokjin who shrugs his shoulders, completely oblivious to the scenario that may have taken place prior to his hiring, “Uh, yes- yes ma’am,”

“And please tell me such a discovery was not, in fact, served to our consumers?” Palms clammy, you’re surprised at how intimidating you can be but with the way Hoseok’s panicky eyes scream innocence, you know that he didn’t do anything of the sort.

“Of course not,” he stammers, your brother glaring a look though he knows you’re merely doing your job.

“Good,” you scribble a few notes of areas you noticed may need to be tidied up before handing it to him, “Just remember to always, always, keep things clean, and to always store packaging in the correct areas. I agree sometimes we can’t prevent everything, but from what I could tell from the picture, the flour wasn’t stored properly.”

“I’m so-”

Gesturing a hand to stop him, you continue, “No need for apologies, just make sure staff is trained to follow protocols. And if I overheard correctly, Jeon’s Bakery may want to franchise along with Ji Woo’s Cafe for the opening of the new store. If that’s the case, then everyone must be on the same page in order for that contract to be signed. Do I make myself clear?”

Hoseok timidly nods, you being grateful that customers haven’t waltzed in especially with it being close to afternoon; glimpsing at your brother, he swallows, nodding once in understanding. In this circumstance, guilt wedges in the crevices of your mind, especially with it, now, involving a blood relative who works within one of the stores your company partly owns. Coming off harsh isn’t who you really are, but the job forces you to be this way, especially when stressing the importance of cleanliness and statistics of sales.

You’re nearly lost in thought- reminiscing on unwanted memories of Jimin, avoiding the ache in your soul when you can’t remember the last time, you’d seen him smile. Blisters form on your feet from your heels, the pain thudding to the point you hardly notice the tall figure inching closer to your frame. In fact, you choose to ignore whoever it is, keeping your eyes ahead with the goal of making it home.

“Is that how you treat a friend you haven’t seen in years?”

“Whoa!” You jolt, whirling in the direction of the deep voice- heart hammering against your sternum while your hand flies to your chest. Dimples immediately appear in your vision while hearty laughter escapes the handsome face of none other than your best friend’s brother, Kim Namjoon. “Namjoon?” Your voice raises in glee, his trench coat loose on his frame, while his wide smile remains on his face, “How long have you been following me?”

“Who said it was me who was doing the following,” he teases while you open your mouth in fake offense,

“Kim Namjoon, yes you were!” Your smile hasn’t been so genuine other than when your brother returned home and reaching forward to playfully smack Namjoon’s arm, he promenades around you while he dodges your every move. The view to outsiders looking in would appear to be a happy couple especially with the way you chase after him, with the contrived promise of embracing him, when really you plan on tackling him for following you for however long he did.

The teasing soon leads to the pair of you agreeing to drinks and dinner- planning to catch up over the four years lost between your friendship.

“So,” your voice is chirpy after taking a long sip of your beer, the waitress settles the entrees in front of you and Namjoon, your elbows resting on either side of the plate while you peer at him over your folded hands. Seeing his face brings a spindle of turning memories- laughter with him and Monnie alongside you, getting into mischievous spouts, causing both pairs of parents in continuous bouts of worry- and the way his brown hair is neatly styled to the way his brown eyes study your every move, you are thankful for his presence, along with your brother’s, being returned to you, “Meet anyone you’ve taken a liking, to?” Namjoon’s only five years younger than you, but with the pressure of marriage being a thought- you’re uncertain if he’s tied the knot- or, more so, your question is directed to if he’s fallen for an American girl, something you’re curious to know about your friend.

A breathy laugh escapes him while he sips his drink, grabbing his fork to play with a vegetable on his plate, “Unfortunately, you’ve remained at the top of my list,” reaching for his drink, he lifts it toward you while you mimic his gesture, clinking them together while you shake your head at him,

“That mouth of yours is going to get you in a lot of trouble, you know that?”

“Can’t remember a time it hasn’t,” he takes a bite of his pasta while you conjure up another question,

“Are you ever planning on going back? To America?” Honestly, you’re afraid of the answer, because if he says yes, then that could mean Seokjin will be following suit.

“Actually,” Namjoon carefully places his fork back on the napkin beside his plate, running the back of his hand at the corner of his mouth, “I hope to live there one day. But that’s only for when Korea gets too small for me,”

“Does Monnie know?” Crossing your arms, your appetite is suddenly lost, for the time being, the subject of anyone else disappearing from your life for a while making you feel a small wave of nausea. Namjoon’s eyes flicker to his plate before returning to your gaze which gives you an answer without any words, “You know she cares a lot for you. She’s been talking non-stop about your arrival since you left.”

“I know,” his voice trails, while he clenches his jaw, “I almost didn’t tell her Seokjin and I were coming back,”

“What? Why?”

“I just didn’t want her to worry,” his long fingers grip the handle of his mug while he swirls the contents within it, “She’s already busy enough with work, and my coworkers I’ve returned to have done enough for me, and I don’t want her to feel like she needs to contribute anything,”

“That’s her choice to make you know. You’re her brother,”

“And I care for her a lot, too. Hence, why I refuse to stress her out regardless of my arrival,”

He’s always had this aura about him that you’ve admired since knowing him. The way he refuses to let his burdens be known to the people he loves- he doesn’t want to put anyone through the trouble that he feels they shouldn’t go through. He’s so young with so much to learn, but yet, he is the one that you look up to the most, physically and figuratively, “You’re a good man, Kim Namjoon,” you coo, “Since when did you grow up so fast?”

Tilting his head, he leans forward with a taunting smirk, “And since when did you start getting gray hair?”

Gasping, you grasp a bundle of hair between your fingers while your eyes widen at him, “You take that back!” You threaten, “Are you asking for me to dig your grave?” The laughter that builds between you two is much-needed medicine that you’ve been longing for, and as the playful banter simmers, he takes a bite of his food, dapping the napkin onto his lips before speaking,

“How about you, by the way? Is there a man whose ass I need to kick?”

Squinting at him, you carefully chew your food, “Plenty.”

Offering to pay the bill, he objects, you mentioning how his sister may be upset if she were to hear that, but you make it clear that you will treat him to a meal the next time you two are to hang out. The night falls quickly, the city lights distracting visions of the stars, yet Namjoon leads you to the direction of your home, making jokes on how you never seem to break rules- or, at least, ever since you’ve gotten “old.”

When the city continues to disappear behind both of you, his large hand gently grabs yours, “Follow me,”

“Hm, what? Where?”

“Must you always question everything? Now, come on,”

Muttering under your breath, you squeeze his hand in a way to show your trust, him spreading a wired fence while you squeeze through the opening, him turning to tangle the brush along the fence as if nothing has been disturbed. “Now, can you tell me where the hell we are?”

“Behind the library. Beyond that, passing the bus station is your home,”

“How-?” You can’t help the surprise, especially when your voice carries just enough to interrupt a couple lip-locked in the distance. You’re nearly floored when you recognize the coworker being LenLen while the male, she’s clinging to happens to have strands of blonde hair revealing the face of Min Yoongi. “Holy shit,” you whisper, though it’s dark enough for the couple to not be able to see who has disrupted their peace. They jog away from the scene, while Namjoon chuckles, you wondering how long this has been going on without the corporate’s knowledge, “How did you know about this shortcut?” You change the subject, gulping at the lump in your throat.

“Do you really want me to answer that,”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you glare a suspicious look, “Oh?”

“Other than sneaking kisses to impress the ladies, I also taught Seokjin how to smoke cigarettes in high school,”

“Nam. Joon! You rascal!” You gape in surprise, “I’m telling Mom,”

“Aren’t you too old to tattle?”

“Oh, you smart ass-” He dodges your raising hand as you chase him down, “Come here you brute! Wait till I get my hands on you!” His joke brings you back to the exposed couple from earlier, which then gives you a steady reason on why you should keep your mouth shut- if anything, you are too old to dabble in drama- and if LenLen has finally found a lover who potentially will be her forever- then you will leave it as is, despite it being a work violation of dating someone within the workplace. When the jog slows to a steady pace, your home welcoming your sight, Namjoon speaks,

“Not sure if we ever get lunch breaks at the same time, but if so, you may need to remind me of all the restaurants around here,”

“Is that so?”

“Unless you want to avoid your promise on treating me,”

“How did you know?”

Eyes locking, chuckles reverberate into the breeze while he shakes his head at you, “I’m just kidding,” you finally say once you regain your senses, “Of course, I’d love to. Just text me every day when you start your lunch break. If there’s a time I happen to be heading to lunch too, then we will meet up. Sound like a plan?”

“Sounds like a plan,” he nods, watching you sprint to type in the security code, you whirling around to wave goodbye while he returns the same gesture.

It’s crazy how beautiful you were before he left for America, and how you’ve remained with the same beauty inside and out as if he never truly left. Other than his family, your face never left his mind the moment he stepped off the plane- some may say it’s because your brother sat right beside him on the plane ride home – but, that’s not exactly the only reason.

Entering your room, your mother bombards you repeatedly with the same conversation on why you reek of alcohol, and why Jimin would let you take it too far. Openly admitting, you happened to be with someone else, your mother continues to pester on how you and Jimin need to find a compromise in order for marriage; how his family are known for their efficacious jobs, how they’re made of money, and that you would be a fool not to marry into his family. Making the excuse that you’re tired and ready for bed, she mumbles that you’re always tired, before departing your room.

Work comes with the presence of Taehyung telling everyone to go to lunch with him, all your female coworkers throwing excuses from left to right about how they can’t make it; which he demands you to join, your coworker Shai promising to tag along, so you won’t feel so alone.

Namjoon: 11:49am- Starting lunch, want to join?

Though you wish you could say yes, you avoid the text message. Following your coworkers into an elevator, surprised to discover Namjoon standing in the corner, realizing his job happens to be within the same corporation but deals with different topics. It’s awkward when your coworkers ask what food you’d like, which you say you’re not particularly picky, Namjoon shooting you a text in a tease of how your taste has even aged. You retort with a text saying to ‘Shut your yapper.’

A few days pass when you’re scheduled to visit another bakery within the city where Monnie sends you screenshots of Jimin’s Facebook page exposing that he has found another girlfriend- one he’s apparently been spoiling before his supposed trip to start a new life in Seoul. The pain seers through every inch of your chest, and it’s hard to recollect yourself enough to return to your job- admitting to yourself you probably missed spots that needed to be cleaned, yet the only tornado jumbling your thoughts are the haunting ones involving Jimin’s face- and the feelings of love you once had for him, vanishing in the blink of an eye.

“According to one of the captions, she’s moving with him,” Monica exhales, “Because dating someone for a week means you should follow them all across Korea. Honestly, [Y/N], I bet this is all a show he’s putting on, or maybe he really has been cheating-”

It doesn’t take long until a recent post is made with the location of their current date- sneaking into the parking lot, you hastily find the valet, asking for the number matching the parking spot where Jimin’s flashy car glistens beneath the starry sky. You’re uncertain of this feeling you hold, but with the anger bubbling within your pounding heart, you know you can’t let this go. The way this girl on his page praises his every move, you even noticing how young she appears, and the lingering fact of him taking her to places you’d always begged him to take you. Nor the pictures he’s flaunting of her that he never once did when he was with you, nearly brings you into a stream of unwanted tears. With all you are, you know it’s not fair. And for that, he needs to pay.

The valet hands you the keys while you ploy your happiest smile. Stepping into Jimin’s car, you pull out the gooiest lip gloss you never use, planting it beneath the passenger side along with the tearing of black pantie hose you purchased from a convenience store on your way here; even laying out a semi-tattered bra you’ve been meaning to throw away, but instead relics beneath the back seat of Jimin’s car. Returning the keys to the valet, you thank them before hiding into the brush a distance away from Jimin’s car where you watch the whole scene play out before you. Watching the girl stampede away while confusion is etched in Jimin’s staggered expression, as his mouth remains agape, doesn’t leave you with the satisfaction you hoped to gain. Instead, you find yourself sitting across from your best friend, gulping down an alcoholic beverage, her moving the glass beside her when she sees the way your eyelids flutter.

“Shouldn’t you be rejoicing?” She questions, your chest feeling emptier than it had before you gained your buzz, “You got your revenge for goodness sakes!”

“Oomf,” you plop your head into your palms before rubbing them slowly along your face, “It’s not that. I mean, Jimin got what he deserved, but that’s not the reason I feel like shit,”

“Okay?” Mo shrugs, “Then, what is it? I know I’ve pestered about your needing of higher standards of men, but really, [Y/N], you deserve so much more than a player like that,”

“I just,” you lazily sigh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “I really thought I knew what love was, you know?” You pause, “With Jimin, the way we met, and the way we clicked at first… I guess I just don’t understand where it all went wrong. Or, what made us fall apart… Maybe, we were never in love after all,”

“Let me ask you this,” your best friend leans forward, playing with a loose string from her sleeve, she tilts her head while she investigates your hazy stance, “What is true love?”

The question isn’t one to shock you; it’s one to make you think, really looking into the depths of your memories to a person you may have experienced love with, and as your eyes flicker upon her face, the answer becomes quite clear, especially when you lean back, the realization bringing the truth you never thought you’d find, “I… I-I don’t know,”

“Exactly,” Monnie points a quick index finger in your direction.

“I’ve never been in love,” you murmur, trying to make sense of this, and wishing you would have realized it sooner.

“If you were in love with Jimin, you would have left Busan behind in a heartbeat. And, if Jimin really had been in love with you, he would have settled for a distant relationship until you made your choice. So why couldn’t either of you find a compromise?”

“Because… we didn’t want to,”

“Because neither of you wanted to,” Monnie smiles deviously before sliding your glass back to your hand that curls around it instinctively, “Now, drink up,” she says, refilling your glass to the brim. Light giggling sounds for the next hour until Namjoon walks in with the intent of checking on his sister. It’s a surprise when he sees you occupying the seat across from her, and as he teases lightly at why Monnie let you get so wasted, she then asks him to give you a ride home.

His heart flutters at the thought of once again getting to spend time with you but he refuses to show it in the slightest; hugging onto Monnie tightly, you drunkenly plant numerous kisses upon her cheeks while she ushers you into the passenger side of Namjoon’s car- you uttering slurred words of songs you hope to karaoke to whenever you see your best friend again- her punching Namjoon’s shoulder for making a joke on who’s going to pay him for being your chauffeur which then prompts him to joke on how violent the two of you are.

Silence becomes too overwhelming while Namjoon keeps his focus on the road, yet all you can think about is how the alcohol hasn’t done its job in letting you forget about your breakup with Jimin. When tears stain your cheeks, Namjoon pulls over, leaving the car until your tears dry- not wanting you to feel embarrassed for crying in his company. Though he wishes nothing more than to hold you in his arms, he knows he can’t.

Your whines to why he stopped the car are what brings him back to the driver’s side, you falling asleep the rest of the way home while he lovingly stares at the peace on your slumbering face. The way your mouth hangs open, cuddled into the corner of the window, he can’t help how cute you look, pulling out his phone to snag a quick picture.

Forgetting his ringer happens to still be on, the sound of the camera jolts you awake, you groggily wiping at your mouth while glaring a hole through his head, “Did you just?”

“No,” Namjoon nearly drops his phone from being caught in the act, sliding lower into his seat as if to hide from you. Sitting up slowly, your eyes dazed from still overcoming your nap, you peer at him shadily,

“Yes, I did, I saw it,”

“Then, why did you ask?”

“I- Hand it over,” palm up, you reach over with the operation to delete the picture, chagrin flooding your features humorously of the thought of him using it against you by posting it on social media for all your mutuals to see.

Jumping out of the car, he can’t help but laugh at your tiny frame, yet again, chasing him down while he holds the phone high above his head. There’s no hope- you can’t reach it- but that doesn’t stop you from trying, “Namjoon, you better delete it, or-”

“Or what? If only you could reach it, then I’d let you win,”

“Oh,” you groan, pressing your forehead into his chest from the exhaustion of the exercise you didn’t plan on doing, “You do realize you are disparaging your elder, correct? My bones feel cracked now thanks to you, Legs,”

He can’t help the way he smiles at you, so wide, that he nearly catches himself, hoping that you will not notice the longing he has to tilt your chin up and plant a sweet kiss to your rosy lips. The rest of the walk to your home continues in spirited bickering- him refusing to delete the picture of you until you accept the fate- igniting the promise you will get him back eventually.

It’s hard for you to look away from him once you type in your security code- the strange jitters you have in your heart at the thought of parting from him- the feeling of missing him, though you know you will see him again. He smiles at you with the same dimpled grin he always gives when looking at you- waving goodbye, you trying to decipher these feelings you’ve never felt before.

The persistent thoughts soon leave, especially when greeted at work with the panic of finding out the contract has yet to be approved for the Jeons and the Jungs to open the new bakery together.

“I thought Taehyung said it would be taken care of?” Your eyes are frantic while you search LenLen’s- her hand running through her hair to then pressing her fingertips to her lips.

“He handed me the documents to give to Yoongi to sign for the approval. I don’t- I don’t understand how it wouldn’t have gotten signed- I highlighted the words for an immediate agreement.”

The tension you bury from the knowledge of LenLen and Yoongi’s relationship makes you think he would have gotten the papers considering it was a love interest who delivered them to him. Shaking your head, you briskly walk to his office, him immediately standing to his feet- numerous folders holding documents crowd his desk, “Hello, Mr. Min, I gather you’re doing well?”

His brown eyes seem alarmed, his shoulders tensing in your presence from the way you hold your stance, “Why, yes, yes I am,”

“And I’m assuming you know why I’m here?”

“Word- word gets around,”

“Mhm, I see,” you nod, though you refuse to cower, “So, did you or did you not receive a document regarding the franchise of the Jeons and the Jungs?”

When an ‘oh’ falls on his lips, his eyes enlarge in confusion which you can’t help, but furrow your eyebrows at the sudden shift in his expression, “Mr. Min?”

“I thought- I thought you were referring to the coffee stain in the break room,”

You wish you could feel a hint of laughter upon this misunderstanding, but instead, you clear your throat while you wave away the reply, “No, Mr. Min, I am addressing the documents of approval in order for the Jeons and the Jungs to be able to open up the new bakery on the other side of town. Now, it has come to my attention that LenLen brought you the documents to sign?”

“Not-not to my knowledge,” he stammers, scratching at the back of his neck while sweat beads form along his forehead. In the end, the discussion results in Taehyung’s office, him harshly accusing the ordeal to be your fault, though you callously want to reveal LenLen and Yoongi’s affair being you have a theory as to why he wasn’t aware of the document. Yet, you can’t bring yourself to do it. Ultimately, you hope everything will get taken care of with the promise that it won’t happen again, LenLen texting you an apology for not double checking on whether Yoongi received the papers or not.

When faced with Seokjin, who continues to ask you for updates, just to be let down again- you can’t help the frustration building to the point you want to explode. It’s when the next day comes, and lunch break finally rolls around, that there’s only one person you want to see. Sending a quick text, Namjoon meets you at a local restaurant, one he happens to pick out, the sight of him bringing a breath of fresh air you desperately needed.

Just a dull, thin sweatshirt and jeans, yet he shines more than anyone else bustling on the streets. When the waitress seats both of you- each ordering- Namjoon makes a joke on if you’d want wine, of course, you wanting to object since you are working today, yet he teases the thought of you needing to break a rule already.

“You are just out to get me, aren’t you?” You say between slurps of your noodles.

“The day that I’m not is the day you should be worried,” he counters with a side grin poised upon his thick lips. Sitting back, he moves his sleeves to rest mid-arm while he continues to watch you.

“Worried? I think I’d throw a party,”

“What?” He gapes, “A party without the main attraction?” He jabs a thumb at himself, “We will see how many will even show up,”

“Must you always have the last word?”

You’re grateful he was able to join you for lunch, especially when he listens to your vague rant on the stress your job holds, walking with you to the elevator of your work building before the two of you part ways. When night comes, you clocking out to head to the bus station, you make your way out into the warm breeze, when the figure of a familiar face nearly knocks you off your feet, yet you stand firm, swallowing the lump in your throat until his steps halt before you.

“[Y/N],” Jimin’s eyes hold worry while he stares into your hardened gaze.

“Jimin,” you grit your teeth, biting back the foul words wanting to tumble off your tongue. You’re not surprised when he asks why you haven’t returned his calls, because, with every message he sends, you delete it, refusing to let him get to you. “What are you doing here?”

“Can we- can we go somewhere with fewer people?” He pleads which you directly decline. Initiating an argument, both of you are unaware of the gathering audience, standing behind the glass doors, watching the flustered pair of you whispering frustrations that sail off with the wind. LenLen and Shai happens to be two witnesses, joining them Namjoon, whose heart nearly breaks from the man, he can tell, will not leave your side unless you comply.

The rage is unsettling, especially with the way he sees you trying to break free from the man’s grip- prompting Namjoon to come to your rescue, wrapping his arm around you to free you from Jimin’s relentless remarks.

“What- what are you doing?” You whisper in surprise, swiping your hair from your vision while your widened eyes sweep along Namjoon’s unreadable face.

“I’m your boyfriend, okay? Act natural,”

You can hardly process what he’s trying to do, especially when Jimin becomes an object in the path causing you and Namjoon to pause in place.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jimin gestures a stiff digit toward Namjoon, whose jaw clenches in return, “Who is this?”

“I- uh- I- yes, I-” You stutter, uncertain on if you even heard Namjoon right to begin with. Did he just call himself your boyfriend? And, how come that sounds like such wonderful music to your ears?

“Pretty sure that’s my question to ask,”

Jimin’s taken aback, waving off Namjoon’s statement as if it’s useless, “I’m [Y/N]’s boyfriend, so, therefore, it’s my right to ask, you bastard,”

“Mm, is that so?” The tension is smothering especially when Namjoon takes a small step forward, his arm guarding you while he holds an angered glance- not breaking eye contact with Jimin whose shoulders slump with the slightest fear he doesn’t want to show. “If I were you, I would fuck off,”

“Excuse me? What the hell did you just say?”

“I said to fuck. Off,” Namjoon’s voice is thick with vile, your hand tightening around his wrist while you gulp over the pounding of your heart.

“Who are you telling to-”

“Unless you want to be reported to the cops for harassment, I would advise you to walk away,” it doesn’t take but a millisecond for Namjoon to slip out his phone, immediately calling his sister, unbeknownst to you and Jimin, Monnie’s voice in a panic when Namjoon continues talking over her as if he is speaking to the authorities. Jimin, reluctantly, scampers off- Namjoon repudiating to leave your side when you lower your glance, gradually walking in the direction of your home.

“Hey…” His voice is soft after a few minutes of silence- you’re so lost in your thoughts, it’s hard to distinguish the fog wanting to encompass your mind. When you don’t hear him at first, he merely pauses, placing his fingers underneath your chin in a manner to get you to face him. Meeting his eyes, there’s a concern there that you’ve never seen a man hold for you, and it takes you a second to fully understand it. “Talk to me,” he murmurs- his frame so close to colliding with yours in a warm embrace, you nearly give in.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, trying to look away, but Namjoon tilts his head until your eyes meet again,

“Why are you sorry, [Y/N]? There is not a thing you have done wrong here,”

You sigh in exhaustion, wishing nothing more than to slip underneath your covers where you long for Namjoon to hold you, though you continuously deny it.

“[Y/N],” the way he says your name in such an eloquent whisper brings you to hushed tears, “I don’t think you realize how lucky you are. You could have married the man for the rest of your life, but you didn’t,”

Never thinking of it in that way, relief floods your senses when Namjoon reminds you that indeed, you are lucky, “Maybe, I shouldn’t have such bad taste in men,” you mutter, him chuckling at you before ghosting his fingers from your chin, giving you space enough to back away.

“Monnie and I have been saying the same exact thing for years, it’s about time you join our side,”

You nudge his arm with your knuckles while you glimpse at him with a hearty smirk, “Why do you make everything so much better?”

“Because I’m the best,”

His gloating is typical Namjoon- humorous, yet charming- causing contagious laughter the rest of the walk, leaving your heart with the subtle longing even when his presence leaves to return to his own home- you wishing nothing more than to follow him instead. Because for once, after years and years of knowing him, you ponder: he always finds a way to make your world brighter, even if he is nearly falling apart- it’s you who in return molds the halves of his heart together- signifying that there is something special – something that flickers the hope that maybe you do have feelings for him you have yet to admit.

It’s the meeting your work holds that ends with Shai timidly glimpsing at you here and there; your shoulders tensing especially with the rumored whispers of theories as to what was witnessed from the previous night with Jimin. Scattering bodies heading in different directions to their office leaves a lingering Shai behind in your presence, still feeling her stare while you compile your things to carry,

“Shai, I appreciate the recognition of the makeup I actually put on today, but is there a reason why you’re acting strange?”

Caught off guard, her mouth becomes agape, her cheeks reddening while she keeps her eyes panning the table, “I just have a question, um, so you know the man from last night?”

“Yeah?” You drag out the word slowly, shoulders rigid as you’re uncertain as to which man she could be referring to.

“Not-not your ex, but-but the tall one,”

Nodding, you bite the corner of your lip, urging her to continue whatever point she’s trying to make,

“Are you interested in him?”

The question hasn’t been asked of you, though you’ve realized you have spent a lot of time with Namjoon ever since his return from America. Why you feel so cornered, you can’t quite pinpoint? Because is it wrong to say no when in fact, it’s possible?

“Well, if not, it’s okay for me to, you know, ask him out, right?” She proceeds to ask if he’s single- waiting for your confirmation as if that’s information you would happen to know. She offers to help carry your things to your office once you answer her question with a terse nod- giving her permission to talk to Namjoon, though it’s not really your place.

As if the day couldn’t get any ‘worse’, or in a better term, ‘annoying’, Taehyung invites the staff to another luncheon, this time involving alcoholic beverages, him getting tipsy enough to subtly make a rude joke toward you. Though you’ve grown used to him over the years, you’ve learned how to tolerate him despite the gossip from the women of the workplace who deem you his favorite due to the fact you handle his demises. After the gathering ends, he proceeds to invite everyone to a karaoke bar not far away- all the women making excuses, in which you make mention you have a lot of work to finish.

“It’s not like you have a man waiting on you at home, come on, let’s go,” he counters- Shai standing beside him helpless while she watches your expression harden in offense.

“I’m pretty sure I never refused to go even when I was in a relationship,” you retort, rendering him speechless, leading him to shove his hands in his pockets out of discomfort. Prancing away with your head held high, you stop to purchase a few of your favorite beers before entering the work building. Stunned the moment you recognize the slim legs of Namjoon who you figure has gotten out of work late.

“Namjoon? It’s late, what are you still doing here?” The happiness exuberating from your smile flickers a hope you can’t bring yourself to ignore.

“Boss had me doing a few extra things, but what are you doing back at the office? Isn’t today your half day?”

“Ah,” you shake your head, “I know, but I still have a few notes I must finish. Also, times I need to schedule to evaluate more bakeries… Are you doing anything later?” Wanting to be in his company is the first thing on your mind, yet your face falls in disappointment when he mentions he has plans.

“Yeah, actually I’m going to the club tonight. Seokjin called asking if I’d like to go with him and Hoseok,”

Curse you, Seokjin, you cringe mentally, but you put on your best smile in an effort to hide the pathetic hope you can’t believe you’re feeling.

“Oh, I see, planning to pick up a few ladies?” You say the word as if it’s a song, though you want to regurgitate at even saying out loud. Shrugging his shoulders, a grin tugs at the corner of his mouth,

“I have plenty of those, so no,”

In your mind, you know it’s just a light-hearted joke, so why does it hurt to think of him with another woman? Fresh out of a relationship, and yet, you’re upset about a childhood friend wanting to mingle with women with the possibility of finding the one, he will marry. When his phone begins to ring, he gives you an apologetic glance which you return with a nod of understanding, Parting ways, he stares after you while you power walk to the elevator, him unaware of your eyes turning to stare at his back while he heads out of the building.

When in the realm of safety, called your office, you switch on music from your favorite KPOP band letting the music flow through the room. A buzz forms after you gulp the first beer, swaying your body with the music. Namjoon, can’t bring himself to leave, and last minute, he texts your brother and Hoseok, canceling for the evening, not revealing the reason out loud that his heart wants to be planted right next to yours.

The elevator seems to be against him, especially with how slow it rises to your floor, him exiting the moment the doors open. Rounding a corner, his eyes scan the glass windows until he sees your silhouette- twirling around the room, flipping your hair from side to side, completely lost in your own little world- oblivious to the now smiling Namjoon whose heart dances with joy overcoming his countenance at seeing you frolic among the room.  

There’s the woman he’s fallen so deeply in love with, and there’s the woman, he one-day hopes, he will hold in his arms for the rest of his life. Besides, one would find it blatantly obvious, as an outsider looking in, especially with the shiny smile plastered upon Namjoon’s face that he is irrevocably entranced by the soul, being you, dancing from side to side unaware to his presence outside your office walls. There is no one like you- there has never been anyone like you in his eyes- someone who he’s secretly admired from afar for all these years but remains to bury his feelings for the fear of what you would say. What your family would say. What his sister would say.

While you continue sashaying to the rhythm of the song echoing in your office, Namjoon disappears out of sight from the glass windows to dial your number. When the screen lights up with his name, you have the inkling to answer, but deciding to ignore it, you whirl around to sway your hips to the beat wondering why he would be calling with the supposed plans he has with your brother. It doesn’t take but a second before you hear a voice overpower the pounding music,

“Why aren’t you taking my call?”

Your heart, as if on cue, thrums whilst a look of shock overwhelms your expression, prompting you to hide at first in embarrassment before rising gradually to face Namjoon who is stifling a laugh while waving slowly to greet you.

“Kim Namjoon! What the hell are you doing here?” You simulate as though you’re annoyed, but the joy of his arrival isn’t something you necessarily want to admit, for you too, have the uncertainty on how to explain the way he’s stirring such feelings you’ve never considered before. With his sly smile, he repeats the question that interrupted your distraction from “work”, but you won’t let him win this argument that easily, “Excuse me, sir, I was working until you decided to intrude on my vibe,”

“Vibe? Is that what the cool kids are saying these days?”

The offensive gape you glare amuses him that you can’t help but boop his smirk with your fingertips- chasing him down with the threat of catching him, yet he zigs zags through your office effortlessly without even an ounce of exhaustion. When the unexpected arrival of a drunken Shai echoes within the hallways, the panic that overwhelms you is enough to shove Namjoon to hide behind one of the bookcases aligning the wall far enough to where Shai may not notice. Namjoon, who is unaware of Shai’s attraction to him, you suppress the thought while you usher her to take a seat, swiping her hair out of her face while tears stream down her cheeks,

“Shai? What’s going on?” When you remember Taehyung, along with Min Yoongi, and other coworkers had an alcoholic planned evening, your heart pangs with guilt for leaving Shai alone. She silences the moment she recognizes the knowledge behind your almond eyes, “It’s Taehyung, isn’t it?”

She nods quickly, keeping her head lowered, fiddling her fingers while her hazy eyes sweep along her tense lap, “He wouldn’t stop talking about my sister and how she broke his heart,”

“Damnit,” you whisper, knowing very well Namjoon is uninformed of the mean words Taehyung flaunts toward you every now and then due to his personal pent up anger. Though you decided not to attend the event tonight, you highly regret having Shai fend for herself. “Shai, I’m so sorry,”

“It’s not like anyone will stand up to him. He literally insults you about your break up with Jimin all the time, yet you let him,” you know she’s intoxicated, especially with the way her words slur, but despite her state of mind, you know what she’s saying is right. Namjoon’s chest fumes with anger at what he’s hearing- wishing nothing more than to approach your boss with the sheer intention of slamming his knuckles into his face; but, for the sake of your job, he knows you may be angry with him if he were to jeopardize that. “And,” Shai presses her fingers to her forehead, “LenLen apparently couldn’t come pick me up because she had some business to attend to. I asked Yoongi about it, but he was no use,”

“Yoongi?” From the way Shai talks, it seems as if she is aware about the relationship you accidentally stumbled upon. When she slowly meets your gaze, her eyes scream that she may have said too much, but you politely urge her to continue, “Yoongi would know about LenLen’s whereabouts?”

“Shit,” Shai sighs, “I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone,”

“Anyone what?”

It’s a strange way that she changes the subject, bringing up Jimin which you are not happy about, leading you to stand to your feet while frantically ushering her out of your office, “I know you were in love with him,” she whines, “So why do you let Taehyung make fun of you for it when my sister dumped him-”

“Let’s be clear,” your hands squeeze her shoulders, “I was not in love with Jimin,”

The tension that had consumed Namjoon’s shoulders from the mention of your ex-boyfriend’s name eases into relief at your words. The hope he has to one day tell you how he feels finally comes into view, which he dismisses for now. Once you finally force her into a taxi, her mumbling her adoration for you-you jog with as much speed that you can gather, return to your office to unlock Namjoon from the trap you didn’t mean to set. He watches you from the window at how adorable you look running across the parking lot- all with the excitement of returning to his rescue- he can’t help himself but throw subtle teases at you for ‘taking so long’ which you reiterate with comments saying ‘well if I would have known you were going to be that way, I would have strolled with the speed of a snail.’

He walks you home as he normally does, refusing to let you be alone at night. He can’t help but bring up the conversation he overheard about the knowledge of your coworkers.

“LenLen doesn’t know that I know,” you confess, running a cold hand through your hair. You cuddle further into your trench coat, wishing the breeze would bring warmth to your aching frame. “In the end, I don’t care if they’re dating, it’s just if the company were to find out, it may not end well for either of them,”

“Yet,” Namjoon tilts his head while his eyebrows furrow, “Taehyung can harass women on multiple occasions and get away with it?”

A sigh of shame escapes past your pouting lips, shaking your head at the truth you wish wasn’t real, but it very much is, and without realizing, you inch closer to Namjoon, his arm brushing yours, bringing a coziness you’ve needed. “He hasn’t touched anyone inappropriately whatsoever; he just has a mouth he can’t control when he’s angry,”

“Still doesn’t make it right,”

“I know,” you wince knowing that not any excuse will make this situation any better.

“I can call and file a complaint. I’m pretty sure it’s anonymous,”

“No!” You gasp, lowering your voice once you realize the volume you held for that split second, “I can- I can handle this on my own,”

“If that’s the case, then how long has this been going on?”

Pausing, you don’t really want to answer because you know how protective Namjoon can be- you’ve seen it with his sister, and with how he became at the presence of Jimin- you will not be surprised if his protective instincts arise if you were to admit it. Instead, you mildly change the subject, “I just- I tolerate it okay? And this whole ordeal at work has been strange anyway. With Yoongi and LenLen dating and not completing documents that Yoongi needed to sign- to the moth infestation at JiWoo’s Café. It just- it reminds me of the time a few years ago when Jeon’s Bakery went through similar instances… Taehyung almost lost his mind to the point he nearly fired the whole staff,”

“I remember Monnie telling me about it. She said she’s never seen you so stressed out in her life,”

“Yeah,” your laugh is breathy, but in an exasperated sense while you shake your head at the memory you have tried to forget about, “the Jeons’ nearly lost their business, but I refused to let it happen.”

“Did you ever consider foul play?”

The thought hadn’t necessarily occurred to you, it’s been years since everything happened, but the survival of Jeon’s Bakery thankfully lives on. When the conversation dies, leaving minds fogged with deep thoughts is the moment you realize you’re nearing your home- Namjoon respecting the fact of not pressing the subjects any further. Freshening up for the evening, the gentle recall of his face smears your mind while you press a plush towel to dry your face; you reach for your phone almost instantly to wish him a good night. If only you could see how giddy he becomes at receiving your message, cuddling into his covers with nothing but the anticipation of getting to see you the next day.

And, if only, he could tell you that.

The following morning, he arises in preparation for work, leaving his apartment to find his sister doing the same, “What are you doing up so early, you ham?”

With a swift roll of the eyes, he waltzes to her side, joining her with the offer of dropping her off at her job, “What do you think? I’m not dressed to impress for the hell of it,”

Eyeballing him, she punches his arm while he fakes pain, Monnie knowing good and well, her punch didn’t have as much impact as it could, “Watch your tone with me, Peasant.” Stepping into his car, she buckles into the passenger side, making herself comfortable before speaking up once more, “Besides, I’m surprised you’re even capable of awakening at such an ungodly hour. Didn’t you just party the night before?”

“Is that what you think I’ve been up to? Since when has your brother been deemed a slacker?”

“Oh, are you really gonna go there?”

The bickering transitions to the mention of Namjoon hardly ever being at home, which Monnie ponders the question on why he can’t just live with her, being the two can save on rent, “Can’t you just respect my privacy?”

Suspicion crosses his sister’s sneer while she raises an eyebrow, “Privacy. Since when does one avoid his sister like the plague without a reason to claim why they need privacy?” You appear on his mind because when is there a time that you’re not on Namjoon’s mind? A tender smile tugs at the corner of his lips which Monnie observes almost immediately, “There’s a girl isn’t there?”

“Which one?”

Grasping Namjoon’s earlobe, Monnie pulls at it, causing Namjoon to panic, “I’m driving! I am driving!”

“And?” She ultimately lets go, turning to face the windshield while droplets of rain become evident on the glass, “Speaking of a girl, do you know how freaked out I was when you called me pretending to be [Y/N]’s boyfriend? I seriously thought Jimin was going to kick your ass,”

“Hmph,” Namjoon switches his hold on the steering wheel, unintentionally pressing down on the gas pedal, “I’m pretty sure that was the least of my worries,”

“Jimin has a history of self-defense classes, I wouldn’t completely dismiss it,”

‘Yeah, but he doesn’t know what I’d do if it means protecting her,’

“And while we’re on the topic,” Monnie waves a quick index finger, “if you ever bring home a snotty thot, I will suffocate you both with my bare hands,”

Namjoon shakes his head at his relentless sister though he knows she has not an idea of his undying crush on her best friend, “But… What if she’s attractive?”

“Can’t be more attractive than I,” Monnie gloats, tracing a finger to place a strand of hair behind her ear.

“What did you say? I think my ears have gone deaf,”

Monnie captures his earlobe tightly within her grip once again, Namjoon pleading sorry until she lets go, “Mhm, about to mute that mouth of yours while I’m at it,”

Another meeting takes place the second your clicking heels sound within the workplace, you retrieve your notes before taking a seat before Taehyung whose lips close in a firm line. The rest of your coworkers file in, hardly making eye contact, and with this meeting not being on the schedule, you’re anxious to know what caused such a last-minute gathering. When pictures of Jiwoo’s Café appear on the monitor above, your mouth drops while your eyes scan each picture. Water has flooded every inch of the place, ruining some of the storage from what you can tell, and though your eyebrows crease with the thought that maybe pipes have busted- you notice in the corner of the photo that the sink had been left running all night. Worry consumes you, especially with the thought of your brother and Hoseok, whom you know were out clubbing last night without a care in the world.

“It would be one thing if this situation was not preventable,” Taehyung folds his hands before him in an ill manner, “But, clearly, it was. And the food cost on top of the cost to get everything cleaned? We’re talking thousands.”

LenLen doesn’t appear as nervous as she had before which you take a mental note of. With her in charge of the store, shouldn’t she at least show some concern? Taehyung continues with his angered rant, threatening to fire someone as he always likes to do, which you choose to ignore, happy to leave once the meeting is over when LenLen and Shai invite you to join them for lunch.  The conversation about the frustration with Taehyung is vague, but you assure the two that you will get to the bottom of this when you can, though you can’t help but wonder why your brother never contacted you about the scenario. Stepping into the restaurant, you’re taken by surprise when you notice Namjoon, who is sitting across none other than Jung Hoseok, who is leaned forward, pressing Namjoon to set him up with Shai which you are unbeknownst of. When greeting the gentlemen, you decide to not ask Hoseok about the mini flooding being you’re off the clock as well as he. Namjoon and Hoseok stand to their feet, telling all three of you to take a seat. An uneasy feeling settles at the bottom of your stomach, leaving a sour taste in your mouth once you notice Shai timidly flicking glimpses in Namjoon’s direction. And, not making it to your knowledge, Hoseok kicks at Namjoon’s foot under the table with the hopes of him conniving on gaining Shai’s attention.

“So,” Namjoon prepares his noodles with the goal of consuming them, but with Hoseok playing footsies, he decides to break the tension, “Where are you from?”

Shai pauses mid-chew, scouring for a napkin to dab her face, “Are you talking to me?”

She wasn’t the only one who stopped mid-chew at Namjoon’s sudden question- your eyes peering at the overly excited girl with the denial that you’re not sure how you feel about her. LenLen remains quiet- solely concentrating on her bowl of noodles in front of her.

“I’m from the city originally, but now, I reside in Busan of course. Alone,” Cringing at what Shai is trying to hint, you barely notice Hoseok immediately jumping at her answer, though she returns the question to Namjoon, “What about you?”

“Sangdo-dong, but moved to Busan with my family at a young age,” Namjoon’s mouth is full of food at this point, but Hoseok isn’t about to give up,

“I live across town in Busan,” his dimples show with his determined grin, “Alone,”

Choking on some broth you slurped, you bury your mouth into the crook of your arm while Namjoon pats your back in a way to calm you, “You alright, [Y/N]?” Taking a moment to recuperate, you nod toward a concerned Namjoon, clearing your throat in an attempt to suppress the tickle.

It’s later that evening when you approach your brother, anxiety apparent upon his face and frame as he paces back and forth within the living room, “So, do you want to explain what happened at work last night?”

Seokjin huffs, leaning his head back while slamming his eyes shut, “[Y/N], I swear to you, Hoseok and I always do a sweep of the store before leaving. I swear to God the sink was off,”

Crossing your arms, you carefully lean against the wall, not letting Seokjin get off so easily if he’s fibbing, “Were there a lot of dishes or something?”

With wide eyes, Seokjin whips his head to stare at you incredulously, “No, we’re not a restaurant, we’re a café, meaning we serve finger foods and desserts, why the hell would we have a lot of dishes?”

“I don’t know! For all I know, the café was busy yesterday! And we’ve already discussed protocol on storing items properly, so what gives, Jin!?”

“Look, I’m just as mind blown as you are. Also, the flour was stored correctly- Hoseok just didn’t have the balls to admit that he doesn’t know how they got moved,” Seokjin’s confession does pang surprise, your hands folding across your chest while trying to make sense of it, “I actually googled if there was a horror story that happened at JiWoo’s Café because how else can I explain to corporate about the sink randomly turning on in the middle of the night?”

Your fingers press against your lips that are pursed in concentration, “Because it didn’t,” you murmur.

The ring of the doorbell jolts you and Seokjin out of your conversation, him sharing a look with you before prodding to the guest bedroom. Overall, you know corporate is going to take care of the water issue regardless, so ultimately there isn’t much to worry about, but the gnawing feeling that something just doesn’t sit right with you seems to bring your suspicions back to light.

Upon opening the door, your eyes widen in sheer incredulity at a nervous Jimin, dressed in a snug tuxedo, who’s lips are quivering with what to say.

“What the hell are you doing here!?” Teeth clenched from the anger boiling within your system, Jimin’s eyes widen with panic as he raises a hand as if to stop you.

“Please [Y/N], hear me out,”

“Hear what out? Clearly, you do not understand the process of a breakup, do you?”

“Listen, just give me a chance to take you to dinner. Let me explain myself-”

“Good night,” his hand stops the door from shutting and with the strength you know he holds, you no longer feel the need to fight; and from the desperate way his eyes flicker between yours, the seriousness behind them unwillingly convinces you to join him, “I just want to make things right, again, just-just please,” Maybe for once he will indeed explain himself; maybe even apologize for making you feel so low all because of a long distance relationship he refused to try; or, maybe he will admit to cheating on you, although you’re highly confident he had been with how fast he seemed to move on. Lost in thoughts, the sight of a familiar restaurant peeks into view, your mouth falling open while your eyes widen disbelievingly.

“You have got to be kidding me,” you mouth, turning to face Jimin who’s eyes sweep outside the car and back,

“What? Do you not like it here?”

It’s not just a restaurant you know all too well; it’s the restaurant- the one specifically raising the memory of a tattered bra, red lipstick and black stocking used to the advantage of Jimin’s second breakup, “Have you been here before?”  It’s a trick question, one Jimin does not seem to pick up on, but he’s smart enough to not answer you with his most recent event regarding this restaurant.

“Yeah, with coworkers forever ago. The food here is pretty decent, but, I-I, we can go somewhere else if you’d li-”

“It’s whatever,” Fumbling with unbuckling your seatbelt, the anger is burning hot upon your chest- you could scream, you could cry, you could pull your own hair out with how inconsiderate a man can be. Bringing an ex-girlfriend to the same restaurant he recently brought another woman- how is that okay? Evidence continues to pile, especially when the waiter greets with a ‘Welcome back’, one Jimin awkwardly dismisses.

“Forever ago, huh?” Gulping, Jimin steps ahead of you while you follow him to the numerous tables- you precisely pick out the table Jimin had sat with the last woman a week ago, you ask the waiter if that’s okay which he nods. Settling down, you fold your arms across your chest once you hang your purse on the back of your chair- Jimin scrambling to unfold the menu which covers half of his face.

“Everything sounds good tonight. I wonder what we should order,” Jimin purposely keeps his attention on the menu to avoid the daggers you’re glaring into his skull. Tilting your head, you set your jaw, tightening your already folded arms in irritation,

“Cut to the chase, Jimin. Why did you come to my house? Aren’t you leaving for Seoul soon?”

His fingers grip tighter onto the menu, his eyes peek nervously at you before wetting his lips, “Uh, can we, uh, order first?”

“Okay then,” you lean forward, clasping your fingers together, eyes refusing to leave his tense frame, “Let’s have what you’ve ordered recently,”

“I-I haven’t been here recently,” Jimin still scanning the menu- the screech of your chair surprises him to the point the menu falls from his hands, you hovering above him with a taunting sneer, “I’m going to use the restroom,” Any excuse that leads you to dial your best friend’s phone number is the ultimate excuse. The moment you hear Monnie’s voice over the line, it soothes you enough while you force a long sigh,

“Are you kidding me right now? Jimin showed up again?” The muffled sound of a car is heard over the line which you assume to be a taxi, except it’s not a taxi, it’s Namjoon, who’s ears tune in when he overhears Jimin’s name.

“You won’t even believe where we are right now,”

“What I don’t understand is why you’re even wasting your time with him. Have you ordered wine yet?”

“…No?”

“Water will have to do. Pour it over his head and leave!” Namjoon’s smirk is hidden in the evening, Monica’s attention remaining ahead of her where the streetlights glisten beneath the moon, it’s what she says next, that nearly shatters Namjoon’s heart to smithereens, “Wait a minute, what did you just say? You’ll see how it goes? [Y/N], whatever he has to say is bull shit. Do you plan on seeing him again?” Eventually hanging up the phone, Namjoon’s knuckles are white from the grip upon the steering wheel, Monnie rambling about the news she has just received, “Jimin showed up again, I swear he needs to let her go,”

“Does she not see what he’s trying to do? Why does she keep giving in to him?” Jutting his jaw, his eyebrows furrow, his concentration on the road becoming hard with the irritation he withholds.

“Well, it’s not like she can help it. The asshole keeps showing up without her permission,”

“She just needs to learn to stand up for herself. She just lets men walk all over her like it’s nothing,”

“Calm down, Joon, I’m sure she’s not going to give him another chance,”

“Yeah, sure,”

Confused, she turns to face her brother, wondering why he’s getting so worked up over her best friend- though she wants to ask out loud, she decides against it, more worried about their safety with him driving more than anything.

Pained silence still has a hold at the dinner table, the waiter placing you and Jimin’s meals before each of you, yet your stiff digits can’t even fold suitably around the fork. Instead, you observe Jimin, who clears his throat before taking a sip of his wine- him mirroring the same rigidity. Shaking your head slowly, his shoulders slump, because he knows it’s now or never- and he knows the only reason you’re here is because of the promise of him explaining himself. When a few more minutes pass, the quiet is filled with a clinging fork against his plate before dropping it onto the napkin.

“I turned down the promotion. I’m not leaving Busan,”

“What!?” Gasping, that is the last thing you want to hear, in fact, you stand to your feet, shuffling for Jimin’s phone, “What do you mean you turned them down!? Call them back! Tell them you’re just kidding!”

“[Y/N], I can’t do that right now, they’re closed! Don’t you want to work things out? I thought this would be the best! For me, and for you!”

“Work things out?” Still handing his phone towards him, he stares up at you in apparent shock which shows he did not expect your reaction to be like this, “How come me not leaving Busan was such a sin when we were together? And working things out? You want to work things out in the same place you brought another woman?” Realization dawns his entire expression, his eyes glued to the table while his thick lips poise in surprise before his eyes trail to lock with yours- he’s speechless because he knows he’s been caught, and you’re not done with what you’ve kept buried within your heart, “Oh, what, you gonna press charges against me? Cause if so, I can do more to add to them,” your fingers curl around the shaft of the wine bottle, Jimin throwing his hands up in defense,

“[Y/N]!”

Fingers slipping to return to your side, you attempt to calm yourself for a moment, realizing maybe assault is not such a good idea, “Originally,” you sigh, “I wanted us to be civil. But you’re so deceitful. And,” you throw your purse over your shoulder, “I would take my advice and call your job back. Seoul has plenty of women for you to fish for,”

Stomping out of the restaurant, you’re taken aback when a strong hand whips you around- Jimin’s frantic, yet you stare at him- air escaping your agape mouth into the icy weather.

“It’s not entirely my fault!” His voice raises,

“Excuse me!?”

“Who was that guy you were with the other day?”

“Wow,” you look away, wishing with all your heart Namjoon was by your side, but that’s not something you will reveal, especially not in front of Jimin.

“See!? I’m not the only one who cheated! You were seeing someone else too! Can’t we just say we both are at fault and move past it? Why are you making me the bad guy!?”

“You know what?” You murmur- gathering your bearings, swallowing the lump in your throat while you cuddle more into your coat. He just admitted he cheated on you- something he’s lied about countless times before, and at this point, you’ve been given enough proof. You can’t do this anymore, and the truth is you don’t want to- he’s done enough, and you’ve had enough, “Jimin, it isn’t your fault. It’s mine,”

When his expression softens, he inches forward, but stops abruptly the moment you finish your statement,

“I’m the one to blame for dating you in the first place.”

Crying isn’t something you typically do, not in this case, and the march home seemed much longer than usual. Tossing and turning all night, you force yourself to get ready for work, going through the same routine of taking the bus, heels clicking into the work building to see Hoseok, coffee in hand, conversating with Namjoon along with a smiling Shai while they’re waiting for the elevator to be available. Hoseok must have picked up a temporary job for the time being until his parents’ café is back in business; and, little do you know, Namjoon’s heart still weighs heavy at the knowledge of you being with Jimin last night. He can’t stop himself, continuing to ask Shai questions upon where she resides, her mentioning a pizza place to which they should visit sometime.

Jealousy rears its ugly head when you grimace at Shai asking for Namjoon’s number, Hoseok immediately grabbing her phone to put his first before handing it to Namjoon. Your eyes remain focused on your cellular device the entire time to the point you almost miss Namjoon’s invite to come with them. He’s visibly hurt when you retort that you didn’t hear him, sauntering off the elevator with Shai trailing behind you. Taehyung isn’t in a good mood which you’ve expected, and he sends everyone on a wild goose chase about another bakery that apparently hasn’t been open for a few days, except he asks for LenLen and Yoongi to stay behind- something that catches you off guard. Shoving the questions subconsciously, you and Shai squeeze into one of the vans when the ring of her phone causes your ears to perk up.

Why are you so angry when you hear Namjoon’s name slip off Shai’s lips? And why do you feel so territorial when it comes to him? Shai cancels plans with him from what you’re gathering, apologizing to him repeatedly. If only you were aware of Hoseok’s ear is pressed to the back of Namjoon’s phone- fussing at him to tell Shai that the two have time this evening to accompany her- Namjoon shrugging off Hoseok’s desperation, wishing he could just be with you instead.

“What happened to the approval that was supposed to be signed?” Taehyung’s eyes steadily observe the employees before him- shoulders tensing while LenLen carefully chews her spoonful of rice. Yoongi raises his head slowly, turning to her with nervous eyes.

“They didn’t make it to Yoongi’s desk,” LenLen’s curt smile could fool anyone, yet she remains unphased, “I’m sorry, Mr. Kim.”

“Is there a reason why they didn’t make it to his desk?”

Yoongi’s heart thuds, wondering if Taehyung is suspicious upon his relationship with LenLen. Never in his life has he been so enchanted by a woman as much as he has her- and, he remembers, despite the confusion, of her saying not to worry about the papers- setting them aside before she distracted him with devious kisses. How he forgot about the documents is something he will take with him to his grave, yet he could have sworn they remained on his desk even after she left his office.

“I must have misplaced them,” LenLen’s voice lowers, digging another spoonful of her meal to distract herself from the way Taehyung’s eyes sweep her fidgety fingers.  

Exhaustion seeps through every bit of your limbs- offering to take the van back to work while your coworkers bid you a good night. The moment you park, you’ve fought to keep your eyelids open the entirety of the drive, slumping into your seat before slumber takes over. Namjoon has worked yet another late shift, ambling to his car to notice someone sleeping in one of the company vans. Recognizing it to be you, he watches while you’re leaned against the car door peacefully, mouth slightly ajar, and he longs for a day where he can wake up next to you- your pinned hair frilly from the touch of the pillow, while the bed covers bundle underneath your chin. Just the thought of your almond eyes fluttering to find him- corners crinkling from the smile that will fill your lips.

Waking up, you return loose strands of hair behind your ear before embarrassment knocks on your door at the discovery of Namjoon who is now giggling at your widening eyes. “Oh, no,” you moan, pressing your head onto the steering wheel, the honk of the horn causing Namjoon to lean back. Of course, his presence includes an evening out to dinner, the two of you ordering your meals- holiday lights dazzling outside the tiny restaurant.

Running his chopsticks along his food, Namjoon swallows in frustration at the memory of last night, Monnie later informing him that Jimin isn’t planning on leaving Busan. Wanting to ask you about it, he does- his tone sounding a tad bit harsh compared to what he was intending, “So, I hear that asshole isn’t leaving Busan after all,”

“That asshole?”

“Ah,” Namjoon lays his chopsticks onto the napkin next to his plate, leaning back in his chair, “Am I supposed to be respectful considering the way he treats you? Or the fact that he’s your boyfriend again,”

“What?” You murmur, though it’s hardly audible- your folded arms slipping from the table while you investigate Namjoon’s stern gape. “Is that what Monnie said? That I’m dating him again?”

“Well… No,”

“Okay, then what is the problem? I don’t understand why you just jumped to a conclusion like that,”

“Because maybe you have a hard time telling him to back off,”

“And is that any of your business?” Silence takes hold upon the tension while Namjoon lowers his head, biting the corner of his lip in culpability.

“I just heard about it all last night, okay?”

“Then that’s something you should have approached me about first before accusing that asshole of being my boyfriend,”

Namjoon finds joy in hearing you curse Jimin’s name, but he knows now that he did approach the subject inappropriately, “Hey,” his voice softens, your lips falling in a saddened frown before meeting his eyes, “I’m really sorry for upsetting you,”

Huffing quickly, you nod your forgiveness, Namjoon awkwardly taking a swig of his beer. The sound of water droplets on the rooftop of the joint prompts Namjoon to turn his head to face the window- eyes flickering around the atmosphere while you take in how handsome he is. Gentle brown eyes shiny against his tanned skin, his full lips parted with the amazement of nature outside, while the line of his jaw sends a desire that causes you to look away.

“It’s raining,” he murmurs, “You have an umbrella, right?”

Peering up at him, you shake your head leisurely, cringing when you remember that you left it at home, “It’s okay, I’ll just walk home in the rain. I’m used to it,”

“But why would you do that?”

The comment rolls off your tongue before you can stop yourself, “You upset me so much that maybe I need it to cool me off,” you take a shot of your beer, keeping your eyes peeled in a direction away from Namjoon’s jaw falling open.

“I’m sorry, okay?”

“No,” you shrug, pouring some more beer into your glass, a smile of annoyance planted on your face, “I should be apologizing for you missing your date with Shai,”

“I invited you to join. You’ll come, correct?”

“And what makes you think I should? I don’t necessarily feel like being a third wheel,”

A subtle smirk pulls at the corner of Namjoon’s lips because seeing how you’re reacting to the idea of him being with Shai ignites a hope that maybe you do have feelings for him. Something he’s been dying to gain since returning home from America, “Why would you feel like a third wheel? Maybe I wanted you to be my date,”

“Oh, don’t start with your sarcasm. I’ve seen Shai, and you’re not the only guy who goes smitten over her. I get it, she’s pretty, but is appearance all that matters to the male population!? Goodness, men are-”

“You’re prettier,” Mid-sip of your alcohol, you nearly choke, especially when the words leave Namjoon’s mouth, making your heart flutter in a way you haven’t felt in such a long time. He timidly avoids further conversation while you pat at your loose strands, him paying for the meal before the two of you step outside. A storm brewed during the dinner to the point the rain is panging heavier than when it started.

“Shit,” you whisper, dreading the idea of walking in the rain though you made mention of being used to it. Namjoon doesn’t even hesitate, telling you to remain under the awning of the restaurant while he sprints to the nearest convenient shop. You gape after him, tilting your head wondering what he has up his sleeve. The ding of the door alerts the employees of yet another presence, Namjoon’s hands scrambling along the umbrella rack- originally picking out two just to return one to the rack, a tight-lipped grin planted upon his face. Once the purchase has been made, he returns to your side- your eyes showing the confusion that he’s holding only one open umbrella, “Why just one?” You laugh, Namjoon gesturing for you to step closer while he holds the umbrella higher, “Aren’t we going to get soaked?”

Both turning in the direction of your home, it’s unexpected the way Namjoon’s expression glows, “I think I have a way to fix that problem,” his arm drapes around your waist; he pulls you much closer to his side showing a perfect way to prevent rain from drenching the pair of you. You’re astonished, but in the most glorious way, you can even imagine, his warmth smothering your chest with giddiness- rain pouring on all sides, yet the smiles upon both of your faces light the world much brighter than even the orange streetlights decorating the paths.

“Want to call a cab?” He peers down at your tiny frame- something he made a joke about earlier where you fended for yourself claiming you’re of average height. His question stirs a mild panic, because for once, the walk in the rain isn’t so bad, especially with the way Namjoon’s arm remains planted around you, your head cuddling into the side of his chest after both of your steps cease.

“No,” you tenderly reply, “I think I want to keep walking… With you,”

There’s a magic in the air that outsiders could feel even a mile away from the couple embraced underneath the crying night. Even when you make it to your doorstep, Namjoon insists on watching until you’re safely inside- him gifting you the black umbrella that you reluctantly accept, thanking him for the evening. His trip home ponders him to settle onto his bed, gazing at the picture he never deleted from when he first watched you fall asleep.

A misunderstanding does fall into place the next evening- one where Shai receives a text from Namjoon in regards of the pizza plans that happened to be missed the day before. You, being informed of it by Shai, pauses, wondering how such a great night with Namjoon could shatter your heart in just 24 hours of time. Unaware, Namjoon has made plans with your brother, bailing out last minute with Shai who is walking alongside Hoseok- expression falling in disappointment at the knowledge that Namjoon will not be attending the pizza date as she hoped.

“He’s going clubbing,” Hoseok nods swiftly, her giggling that she enjoys clubbing as well in an attempt to win Namjoon’s interest. Namjoon politely declines, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trench coat while he watches Hoseok, who came up with the plan this morning, joyfully dancing by Shai’s side while they disappear farther into the glistening city.

Heartbroken and confused, yet again, you make plans with LenLen who sees you’re not okay- the two of you enjoying your meals despite the hushed banter, “I can tell you still think about Jimin,”

“If I told you that I don’t, you wouldn’t believe me,”

“Maybe you should date around? Live a little,”

The conversation turns into LenLen giving dating advice- saying not to take men seriously- how they most likely flirt with every female in order to keep their options open- you biting your tongue about her secret she still has not an idea that you know about it. Doubting everything that has been happening with Namjoon, now the uncertainty of him having feelings for you plague your thoughts. Were you stupid to fall for another man’s tactics? But you’ve known Namjoon most of your life, and he’s never been one to cause toxicity amongst others, and you’ve always admired his maturity in situations. So, why can’t you come to terms that maybe he’s not like any other guy? But, then again… What if he is?

Namjoon bends onto the pool table while he squints his eyes at the ball, he’s planning on hitting. Seokjin waves the video games Namjoon surprised him with from America, thanking him once again while he awaits his turn.

“You know, I was going to invite you over to visit my parents with me, but apparently, Mom invited [Y/N]’s boyfriend over for dinner. And, of course, I’m aware of Hoseok ditching me for some girl my sister works with,”

Namjoon’s heart falls to his feet while he leans against the pool table, Seokjin’s focus remaining on his pool stick as he jabs it- the clacking of the balls sounding through the ringing in Namjoon’s ears. Jimin. Again?

“Boyfriend?” Namjoon tries to keep his emotions at bay to prevent any suspicion from your brother, straightening his back while his hands grip the wooden stick in frustration.

“Oh, I figured Monica may have mentioned him, but he’s some guy my mom won’t shut up about. He comes from a rich background. I could care less about the bastard, but I would never tell [Y/N] that. You know how she is about reminding us she’s our elder,”

“Yeah…” Namjoon takes his turn, head spinning from the news he’s receiving, “He comes over a lot?”

“Unfortunately,” Seokjin murmurs, “Just glad I’ve moved out with Hoseok so I don’t have to deal with any of it,”

“We can still go by there,” Namjoon says it without thinking, Seokjin nodding in agreement while they finish up their game. Why he feels the urge that you may need him he doesn’t know. Maybe if he sees Jimin in person again, he can feel some type of closure in letting you go. If Jimin is who you want, then maybe you should be with him in the long run.

Waltzing through your door after spending the evening with LenLen, your auditory senses are greeted by the familiar clinking of silverware mingled with the voices of your parents. At first, you assume that they’re talking to each other until a third voice makes an entrance, your body rigid from the rage rising within your chest. You’re relentless as you stomp to the living room- Jimin’s blonde hair glistens beneath the chandelier, while he sits at the table before your parents. He nods at you when your eyes lock, him timidly looking away when he sees the pure anger resonating from your stance. Your mother joyfully sprints to you, shoving you towards your room to change into something ‘better’ as she proclaims- spinning around dramatically to tell Jimin to continue with his meal.

When ten minutes pass, you haven’t budged from where you’re frozen before your mirror, the black umbrella Namjoon had given you just the night before leans against your desk. Your mother doesn’t even bother to knock, carefully shutting the door behind her while you immediately tilt your head up, “Why the hell is Jimin here!?” You raise your voice, her shushing you abruptly as her hands' fan in front of your face.

“First of all, I asked you to get ready! And I don’t understand why you’re being so damn selfish! Jimin is perfect for you in every way, and you should be very grateful to have found a man like him,” at some point, during your mother’s pointless banter, it all goes in one ear and out the other, and the relief of her leaving your room sends a frustrated exhale from your lips. You did all that you could when you were dating Jimin; you’ve even dressed up to the point of winning his affection in the bedroom which failed miserably as you recall the night of the breakup. And, you know what? Why not flaunt yourself like you did that night? You’ll show him. You’ll show all of them who is really missing out on who.

The smear of blood red lipstick decorates your lips while dangling pearl earrings match the lacey dress that now hugs your figure. Cleavage prominent, you swiftly straighten your hair, making the last task on your list to be a fresh pair of stockings- the intent of the article of clothing to remind Jimin of the night he was with another woman- the numerous nights he had been with other women.

Head held high, you gradually step into the living room, your father gulping at the sight of your bold choice of an outfit, while your mother gasps in disgust. Jimin doesn’t know where to look- trying to keep his gaze away from the tops of your bosoms squeezing together in the nicest bra you could find in your closet.

“Well?” You spread your arms while you sway to your side, “Is there a reason why you all seem appalled?” You gloat, “I’m sure I’ve put every woman in Busan to shame with this dress, isn’t that right Jiminie?” you’re acting obnoxiously, yet you don’t care, seductively tilting your head while you glare at the back of Jimin’s head, “Why are you sitting away from me, Honey? Look at me,” when Jimin glances at your wide-eyed parents, he cautiously turns to face you, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, “What? Do you not like it?” You bend slightly, showing the size of your ass to remind Jimin of the nights he turned you down, muttering on how your sex life was boring due to the lingerie you refused to buy, “Should I have worn an even tighter dress? How about the stockings? Remind you of anything?”

“[Y/N]!” Your mother snaps, you straighten your frame whilst an exasperated giggle escapes your shiny smile,

“Oh, I forgot my parents were here. Oops,” you slur- your dad gesturing for you to take a seat which you do, Jimin having a hard time processing whatever you are doing. Beer is crowding the table with the many different plates of food your mother prepared, yet you turn to Jimin with a whiny request for wine.

Namjoon rests the side of his head on the window of the passenger’s side while Seokjin keeps his attention on the road, “So, have you been seeing anyone since we’ve been home?” He glimpses over to see his friend- distance in his expression which brings a concern to Seokjin.

“No,” Namjoon says after a moment.

“Okay,” Seokjin says slowly, “What about interest? Anyone, that you’re interested in?” He notices the hint of a smile on Namjoon’s face from the corner of his eyes, “Ah, there’s a smile. So, you do have an interest in someone,”

“You caught me,” Namjoon raises his hands in self-defense, “Ask away,”

“Tell me about her. What’s her name? How old is she? Is she from Busan?”

Namjoon contemplates his answers since he doesn’t want to reveal to Seokjin that it’s you, Seokjin’s sister, that Namjoon is hopelessly in love with, “She’s 28,”

“Dude,” Seokjin is shocked from the obvious tone of his voice, “That’s five years older than you, have you gone mad? That’s our sisters’ age. That’s like you dating my sister,” Namjoon glances at Seokjin while he proclaims on how creepy it is to date an older woman- Namjoon remaining silent for the rest of the drive, pain evident on his face now knowing your brother would disapprove if Namjoon’s feelings for you were to be made known.  

Chugging half of your second beer, since Jimin failed at bringing wine, you wait for the perfect opportunity of Jimin’s lips molding to take a sip of his beer when you face your mother, “So, mom did dad ever cheat on you at any point in your relationship?”

Coughing, Jimin buries his mouth into his hand that curled into a fist, sliding his beer further from him while your mom’s eyebrows furrow at your random question, “No. No, your father’s been faithful. Wh-”

“What would you do if he wasn’t?”

Your father stares at you in distraught, yet he seems to catch where your conversation is headed.

“I’d smack him upside his head-”

Hesitation is not part of your vocabulary in this section of time, for your palm, with all the strength you can muster, slaps the back of Jimin’s head while he cringes beneath your touch. The burn of the hit lingers within your palm, while your parents freeze in realization- your dad raising his voice to ask what you’re trying to get at.

“Wait a minute,” your mother counters, while Jimin rubs the back of his head, “Did you… Were you seeing another woman while courting my daughter?”

Jimin drops his gaze to the table, running the tip of his tongue over his lips in panic.

“I’m- I’m- I don’t know what to say,” your mother says in obvious disappointment. Your father rises slowly while he glowers at Jimin who raises his arm in a plea to your father, but it’s too late, he attacks Jimin, slamming him onto the table while bowls of food hit the floor- your mother getting in between the men while Jimin begs for your father to let him go.

“When is everyone going to start acting like adults in here!?” She bellows whilst scampering for cloths to clean the food stains off your father’s sweater.

“Look,” Jimin’s hands fly before him, “I messed up, okay? But I am not the only one to blame here! [Y/N] cheated, too! She’s seeing someone now!”

“Jimin!”

“Oh, are you going to deny it!? Do you think that it’s simple for me to come here? Your parents practically begged me to-”

“Then why the fuck did you not say no!?” Gasps escape from both of your parents at the choice of words you have chosen. But you are so livid, you could care less. “For heaven fucking sakes, Jimin, where is the respect? If only I had a few more drinks in me, I’d smack the shit out of you even more!”

“You know what?” Jimin clenches his jaw, settling to his knees before you, “Hit me then. Put me out of my misery. Do what you need to feel better, I just want to fix things here.”

“Like you’ve had such luck with patching things up before,” you mutter, “It’s not happening, Jimin,”

“Why?” Jimin taunts, standing back to his feet, “How about you tell your parents why you no longer want to be with me, huh? Who’s the man who told me to fuck off at your work? You dodge the question because you’re just as guilty as I am!”

Crossing your arms, you inch closer, a sneer present on your red lips, “Accusing me makes you feel so much better, doesn’t it,”

“Then why can’t you admit who he is? I’m going out of my mind about it, just fucking tell us already-”

“I like him, okay! But that was after my relationship with you!” Your voice is loud- so loud it carries throughout the house, stunning your parents as well as Jimin as they gape at you, “I really like him, you have an issue with that Jimin? Huh?”

“Oh no,” your mother groans as she collapses on the couch, “No, no, no, no-”

Seokjin bursting through the door makes matters worse to your mother as she clambers to tidy the table with whatever she can salvage while everyone’s attention turns to see not one, but two men, joining everyone in the living room. When Namjoon trails behind a wide-eyed Seokjin- Jimin’s expression shows astonishment as he points a shaky index finger toward Namjoon, whose eyes are too busy looking at the ensemble he has never seen on you before. A look that’s distracting him from the tension smothering the vicinity.

“That’s- that’s him! That’s the guy!” Jimin’s desperate- desperate to clear his name of any negativity, though he truly is the only one at fault for infidelity. Grasping your arm tightly, he drags you an inch forward while you struggle to get out of his grip, “You need to explain to everyone!”

Your parents are jumbled with who Jimin is exclaiming about at first, but when they realize his crazed eyes have yet to leave Namjoon’s, they know exactly who he’s referring to- but, Namjoon is more focused on the tightening grip Jimin has on your arm, Namjoon grits his teeth while he swallows slowly, “Let go of her.” Stepping forward, nobody has time to blink when Namjoon clutches the front of Jimin’s suit, dragging him roughly toward the outside of the house while Seokjin hysterically chases after them. Panicked voices of your parents scream towards what seems to be the start of a feud.

You can’t move. You just remain speechless while your hero intervenes once again. 

[bobathirstaccount]

Zaddy

Boba x fem!reader, smut

Boba offers to be your daddy.

Lyrics are from Baddie by Dylan & Dakota

***

You were vibing with your music blaring while everyone was out. You danced around in your underwear, sing songing along with it. “You could be my daddy, zaddy,” you belted out, making eye contact with Fett.

“— shit!” You jumped down off the observation table and scrambled to put your clothes on. This is why we don’t get distracted after a shower, you thought to yourself, frantically jumping into your pants. When you’d pulled your shirt over your head, you shakily turned around to face him.

Fett was standing there, leaning against the doorway with an amused look on his face. “Nice tattoos,” he commented. You blushed at their location.

“Sorry about... the table...” you mumbled. He smiled. “It survived.” You felt yourself growing redder. Fennec appeared behind him. “What’s the matter?” She peered around him.

“Nothing,” you tried to act casual and leaned against the table you’d just been dancing on. You realized that your music was still playing.

“... I’m a good girl, but I can make it nasty,” the ship sang to everyone. You rushed to the comm and slapped the button to turn it off. “Nothing’s going on.” You tried to convince everyone.

“Nice tunes,” Fennec squeezed past Fett, who was still lingering in the doorway. She kept going, to the cockpit. You were left with Fett, whom you recently called both daddy and zaddy while staring directly into his face. You winced internally. “Well, I gotta.. yeah.” You tried to squeeze past him to just leave the room. You had to go somewhere else to finish being embarrassed. He stopped you with a hand on your arm. “I could be your daddy, you know. Though I admit I don’t know what a zaddy is.”


You were so shocked the only thing you could think of was to give the definition of zaddy. “It’s, uh... it’s a guy that is good looking and has swag. Basically.”

“What’s swag?”

“It’s uh... are you... are you teasing me?” You tone went up at the end.

He smiled mischievously. “Perhaps.” He dropped his arm. You stared at him, wide eyed. You finished processing what he’d initially said. “So, uh..” you winced internally again at your brilliant start to the sentence. “... you —“

”Hey what’s up guys?” Din paused on his way down the corridor.

Oh no. “Nothing,” you tried to smile casually. Boba turned to Din with a smile playing on his lips, “She can’t catch a break is what’s going on.”

“Huh?” Din’s helmet tilted in confusion.

“Whelp, great talk guys, gotta go,” you speed walked down the corridor. You weren’t sure but you thought you heard gentle laughter.

You grabbed a book and got into your hammock, relatively alone. You had decided Fett was teasing you the entire conversation. Why would he seriously say that he would be your daddy? You fiddled with you book. You thought about how close you’d been to him, his strong hand resting lightly on your upper arm. You sighed. Oh, great — and he’d seen you in your mismatched underwear. You’d forgotten that part already. You put your face in your hands for a moment. Shit. What a day. You decided to call it and curled up for sleep.

***

You had woken early, having gone to sleep relatively early the day before. You opened the Slave 1 up to the desert and walked out into it. The light from the suns was just starting to appear on the horizon. You took off your boots and socks and stretched your toes out into the sand. You stood there, just watching the sky change. You heard someone on the gangway of the ship. You partially turned to see who else was up early. It was Fett. Your heart jumped; you still hadn’t recovered from his teasing of you yesterday. You nodded and turned around, trying to remain calm.

He came up to your right side and stood there. “Communing with the desert?” He nodded towards your discarded footwear.


You smiled, “Something like that.”

“Let me take you somewhere for the sunrise.”

You looked at him curiously.

“We have to hurry or we’ll miss it.”

You nodded and sat down to quickly put your shoes back on. You popped up, ready. He led you to his speeder, parked to the side of Slave 1. You both got on. You realized you had to hold on to him. You inhaled and wrapped your arms around him tentatively.

“I don’t bite. Unless you like.” He didn’t turn around, so you had no idea if he was serious or not. You snuggled into him softly, grabbing each arm with the opposite hand. “I’m ready.” He nodded and you two took off, skimming over the sand. The suns were almost breaking through the horizon when you reached an outcrop of rocks. You stopped near the base of it.

Hopping off, you and Fett followed a well worn path up to the top. You looked out over a vast expanse of canyon. It was very shallow, but huge. Like an enormous river bed. Fett pulled you down, so you sat there with him. The suns broke through the horizon and started to shine across the canyon. You watched, waiting. Suddenly a shimmering mirage appeared. Slowly at first, it dribbled into the canyon giving it a warm, filmy feeling. It didn’t look like part of reality. The golden mirage continued to spread, seeping out from its point of origin. It widened and took over the floor of of the big riverbed, glimmering like water. It was a river of light and air. You watched it unfold, open mouthed. It lasted for several glorious minutes, then faded into the day.

You turned to Fett, “That was breathtaking.”

He was already looking at you. “Yes, breathtaking,” he said, staring into your eyes. His gaze trailed down to your lips. You felt soft leather on your lips and bit your lower lip. He leaned in. You were stupefied. You felt his lips touch yours and instinctively closed your eyes. He kissed you lightly. You leaned into him and kissed back. You felt a hand slide up your thigh, and gave a soft moan. He grabbed your hips and pulled you into his lap. You sat there on your knees, straddling him. He snaked his arms around your waist and stopped to look at you. “You want to go back, or stay here?”

“Stay here.” You slowly rolled your hips into him for emphasis. He exhaled heavily through his nose and grabbed your hips. You rolled your hips again, harder this time. You felt his cock getting hard. You kept going. He mmmd into your chest, and his grip grew tighter. You put your hands on his torso, feeling his uneven breathing.

You kissed him deeply, enjoying the fact that he was kissing back. You bit your lip and voiced your desires, “I want to feel you inside me.” You felt his cock jump and smiled wickedly. Your hands went to his pants. His hands went to your shoulders, stripping your jacket off. You paused in your work to let him pull your arms out of it. You finally got his cock out of his pants. You realized you were still in yours. You undid them and kicked them off. He pulled you back into his lap. You grabbed his cock and nuzzled it into your wet folds. He groaned and gripped your thighs.

You ground your pussy on the tip of his cock, teasing him. “Hn, I thought you wanted me to be inside of you,” he grunted. You smiled again, “Patience, daddy.” You tried out the moniker.

“Daddy isn’t very good at being patient,” he ground out. His use of the word lit a fire in your pussy. You slowly impaled yourself on him, making his eyes close in pleasure. He felt good. He stretched you out perfectly. You moaned and started to ride him. He grabbed your ass and slid his hands up your hips, under your shirt. His hands kept going and pulled it up and over your head. You were totally nude in the early sunshine. He looked up an you, entranced. The soft leather of his gloves glided over your body. It felt delicious. You started to fuck him harder, holding on to his clothing for purchase. He groaned your name, pulling you closer to him. You continued to bounce on his cock, your mouth open slightly as you made eye contact with him. His eyes were hazy with lust.

“I’m close,” he grunted. It made your pussy clutch to hear him say it. “Daddy I wanna feel you cum in me,” you panted. He growled at you and came as if on command. His head fell forward onto your shoulder. You stilled and wrapped your legs around him. You were so worked up you ground against his still hard cock. You felt one of his hands travel down to your groin. He found your clit and rubbed fast circles on it, making your body shudder in pleasure. “Ooh fuck daddy...” you saw stars as an orgasm ripped through your body. You moaned his first name as your orgasm continued, squeezing his hips between your legs. “Daddy, you feel so good,” you murmured. His lips found yours. You cupped his face with both hands as the kiss became passionate. You were totally enveloped by the experience. He grabbed the back of your head with his hand to keep you there. When you finally came up for air, you gasped for it. But you wanted more. The two of you sat there, kissing like teenagers for awhile.

When you finally dressed the suns had both cleared the horizon by a fair margin. You smiled at Boba, as he had asked you to continue to call him by. He was already on the speeder, waiting. “Ready to head back?”

“Not really, but we should.” You turned towards Boba and walked the short distance to the speeder. Hopping on behind him, you snuggled into him readily this time. He looked over his shoulder, “So, tell me, am I a zaddy?”

You gave a small laugh, “Of course, zaddy.”

[helaintoloki]

First Date

pairing: Diego Hargreeves x reader

warnings: extreme amount of fluff, nervous Diego, etc.

notes: this piece is for a writing trade I’m doing with @lovcfools !

summary: the story of your first date with Diego

Diego could hardly remember the last time he’d been this nervous let alone the last time he’d been on a real date. He still could hardly believe the fact that you’d actually accepted his offer to go out for a “bite to eat” as he’d put it, yet here he was at your front doorstep with his best shirt on and a decent bouquet of flowers (a first date must have according to Allison).

Diego’s breath catches in his throat the minute you open the door and by god do you look stunning. He gulps nervously and feels his palms begin to perspire, heart beat picking up rapidly when you flash that award winning smile of yours.

“H-Hi,” he greets, cursing himself for the stutter and hoping he’ll be able to keep it at bay throughout the evening.

“Hi Diego,” you grin. Your eyes notice the bouquet of flowers in his hand and twinkle with excitement. “Are those for me?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I uh, I wasn’t sure what kind you liked so I got a little of everything,” he explains with a nervous laugh as he awkwardly thrusts the bouquet upon you.

“That’s so sweet of you,” you compliment, hugging the flowers close to your chest. “I didn’t really peg you as the flowers type of guy, if I’m being honest.”

“I guess I’m full of surprises,” he jokes, his confidence beginning to return to him now that he’s found his rhythm with you. You always have a way of throwing him off, making him slip up, and it’s not on purpose of course. You’re not even aware of the affect you have on him, but Diego always turns to putty whenever you’re around.

Once you’re ready he offers you his arm and walks you to his car, being sure to open and close your door for you as well. He resented his father for many things, but he had to give Reginald credit for the etiquete lessons they’d all had to participate in as kids. He figures he’ll take you a nearby diner; it’s quiet and simple, just the two of you with no distractions, and you can’t go wrong with fries and a burger for dinner. You listen to an old Kiss song on the way, stealing glances from each other and repeatedly getting caught in the process. But it’s fun and every time he shoots a wink at you you giggle, something that’s music to his ears.

Much like Griddy’s the diner is warm and inviting but pretty empty during the night, but neither of you seem to mind as you sit down and look through your menus. He expects you to order a salad (because that’s what most girls eat on date’s, right) and is pleasantly surprised when you instead order a cheeseburger with extra bacon and cheese fries, which you offer to share with him, of course.

“So what do you do for work?” You ponder curiously while playing with the paper wrapping of your straw.

“Oh, you know,” he shrugs offhandedly, “odd jobs around the city. You?”

“Kindergarten teacher,” you reply with a smile. “I’ve been teaching for five years now.”

“So you must be good with kids then?”

“I think you have to be if you want to be a teacher. Others may not share my sentiment but I want the kids to have a place to feel safe, even if it’s just for a few hours a day. Who knows what they have to deal with outside of school?”

Diego smile faintly at that, his mind wandering as he fiddles with his butter knife. Your kind hearted tenderness reminds him a lot of his mother, and he wishes he could have met you sooner. Your presence definitely would have helped during his childhood years. He wonders what your reaction would be if you actually knew what he did during his “odd jobs,” if you actually knew who he was, what he could do, and what he’d done. A nice little school teacher on the arm of a vigilante was a funny picture in his head, and he could already hear his siblings giving him shit for his choice in women. But you were different than what he was used to, a good different, sweet and normal and sane. It was a change but a good one, and he really hoped this whole thing could work out.

Despite how full you both are from gorging on dinner food, you decide to split a bowl of ice cream. Diego lets you pick the flavor, and though he isn’t particularly fond of your choice he says nothing as you smile and talk about your upcoming trip to visit some family. He pays the bill despite how much you protest but agrees to let you be the one to leave a tip, and though you’re reluctant it’s starting to get late so you have no choice but to start heading back home. He takes the longer route this time so you can have more time together, and you’re delighted when he uses his free hand to hold your own as he drives.

Diego makes you feel safe in a way no one else ever has. He’s warm, he’s strong, he’s very handsome, and despite only having been on one real date with him you know that he’d do anything to protect you. Perhaps it’s too soon to tell, but you feel like you could fall in love with him if you wanted to, and you do.

“Do you go on dates often?” You ask, and though you try to remain neutral your obvious prying tone has Diego quietly chuckling in the driver’s seat.

“Nah. I usually don’t even get this far in.”

“So what was different about tonight?”

“I really like you,” he replies earnestly, and you’re grateful for the fact that his eyes are on the road and not casted upon your blushing cheeks.

When you return home he opens your door for you once again and walks you all the way up to the front steps until you’re face to face, waiting with baited breath to see who will make the next move first.

“So...”

“I had a nice time tonight,” you smile gently.

“Does that mean I can take you out again sometime?” Diego asks with a hopeful glimmer in his eyes.

“I think it would be wrong not,” you reply with a cheeky grin. “Will you call me when you get home so I know you got there safely?”

“I will.”

“Okay. Goodnight Diego.”

“Goodnight y/n.”

Neither of you turns to leave, instead choosing to linger there on your front doorstep. Your eyes dart from his intense gaze down to his lips, and a small breath escapes you as his warm hand comes to gently cup the back of your neck. He’s pulling you in closer, guiding you to meet him halfway until your mouths are meshing together in a sweet kiss. He isn’t abrasive or rough, but his lips do glide across your own skillfully and his tongue darts out for a mere moment to lick at your bottom lip. It’s sweet and it’s romantic and it has you wanting more the minute he pulls away. He smiles at you then, thumb rubbing carefully along your warm skin, and he leans in to give you one more firm kiss.

“I’ll call you,” he promises again.

“You better,” you murmur with a small smile.

Diego slips away from you to get back into his car and already you find yourself missing the warmth and comfort his presence brings you. He gives you a wave as he slips into the front seat and doesn’t drive off until he sees that you’ve made it inside alright and are tucked in safe for the night.

With the windows down and the radio playing some old song he doesn’t remember the name of, Diego realizes he’s found himself in quite the predicament. His head needs to be focused on his work, he can’t afford any distractions, but there seems to be one tiny problem: he’s falling in love with you.

[radishaur]

Hi! I love waking up in the morning to find my feed filled with your writing! You’re so good! I was wondering if you can write a zuko x female reader based on the song “Easy as all that” by Miniature Tigers? That song gives me major pining!zuko vibes. Hope your day/night is going well! :)

Oh my goodness, this literally melted my heart! 🥺 Thank you so so much! Also I would love to do a song request! I think that idea is so cool! I hope you enjoy!

- Zoe

•••

Crazy About You (Zuko x Reader)

Warnings: none

Genre: Fluff

Part: 1/1

Summary: See request

•••

When Zuko invaded the Southern Water Tribe, he had expected to find the Avatar. What he did not expect to find was you.

You were absolutely fearless, not hesitating to attack him when he threatened you. You were also incredibly talented at fighting. Without even breaking a sweat, you were able to beat him in a fight. Your water bending was powerful. You were clearly a beginner, but that didn’t matter. Your sheer power was enough to knock him off his feet.

Not to mention you were undeniably beautiful. Of course, nothing could ever come of it. You were enemies. Destined to fight each other until the end of time. He had no choice but to repress the feelings you gave him down into oblivion.

Admittedly, he wasn’t very good at it though. Everytime you guys went head to head he would always be careful not to hurt you. He even purposefully let you escape sometimes. Not that you needed him to. He knew you were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself.

There had been multiple times he went back and forth about confessing his feelings for you. He knew they were wrong and that you would obviously be disgusted, which made him want to keep his mouth shut. But on the other hand, his Uncle had once told him that being honest about your feelings is better than hiding them. Maybe if he told you then he could finally get rid of them.

He shook his head. Right now was not the time to be thinking about you. His nerves about seeing you again made him distracted, but he needed to practice his speech. Not get flustered over a girl.

He straightened up and looked at the badger frog who was sitting on the log in front of him. He took a deep breath before starting.

“Hello, Zuko here. But I guess you probably already know me....sort of,” he trailed off, rubbing his head sheepishly.

This was not a good start.

“Uh, so, the thing is, I have a lot of firebending experience and I’m considered to be pretty good at it. Well, you’ve seen me....You know, when I was attacking you?” he asked, quickly realizing that was probably not the best thing to bring up, “Uh, yeah, I guess I should apologize for that.”

Not a good start at all.

“B-But anyway, I’m good now. I mean, I thought I was good before, but now I realize I was bad. But anyways...,” he sighed, realizing this was not going to be easy, “I think it’s time I joined your group and taught the Avatar firebending.”

There was a beat of silence as the badger frog croaked.

“That wasn’t bad, but I would probably tweak a few things.”

I spun around in shock to see her leaning against a tree behind me. She had a basket in her hand that was full of fish. She must have been hunting food down for the group. I looked at her cautiously, unsure if she was going to attack me or not.

“It’s a good infiltration plan I have to say, although none of us are stupid enough to believe it after everything you’ve put us through,” she continued, pushing herself up off the tree and coming closer.

“I-It’s not- I’m not-“ I tried to say, my words getting stuck in my mouth as she came closer.

“Why else would you be practicing your speech? Usually people who are genuine don’t need to rehearse what they’re saying,” she argued, standing a mere few inches away from me.

I blushed in embarrassment and crossed my arms over my chest.

“I’m not exactly a people person. It usually helps to practice beforehand,” I mumbled.

“Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation? Shy? I don’t believe it for a second. Although you’re a good actor,” she insisted, her glare so intense I felt like she was looking inside my soul.

“I didn’t even know you were there! Why would I be acting for myself?” I exclaimed, my blush growing as my embarrassment doubled.

She seemed to hesitate to take in my point. She took a step backwards and looked at me in shock.

“You’re being serious,” she said in disbelief.

“Yes. I’m being serious,” I huffed, finally looking back at her.

I immediately regretted it. She looked beautiful and I felt paralyzed to the spot as she looked at me. Her gaze had softened when she realized I wasn’t joking about joining the Avatar and her stance had relaxed significantly. The way the sun shone on her and glimmered in her eyes-

“What are you looking at?” she asked, looking over her shoulder for something that wasn’t there.

“Oh! Uh....nothing. I just uh- I thought I saw something,” I replied, my whole face going red in embarrassment at being caught staring.

She looked at me once more before sighing. She grabbed my arm and began dragging me behind her.

“Come on, then. If you’re really serious I can convince them to believe you,” she said.

“R-Really? You would do that? I’ve given you no reason to trust me,” I responded, shocked that she had believe me so easily.

“Because you’ve always let me go. You never really attacked me and I know you could have if you wanted to. There’s good in you somewhere,” she answered.

Her response made me more flustered that I was before. My stomach flipped as she spoke and I could feel my cheeks heat up. Did she really notice I was going easy on her? And did she know why?

I didn’t ask any of the questions I had. I just followed after her as she led me down to the group. They had all been horrified to see her dragging me behind her and they went to attack, but she held them off. She let me explain myself and, despite some rough patches, got them to accept me as a prisoner.

It was clear to me then how much trust the gaang had in her. She stood by my side even after I accidentally told them I sent an assassin after them and she had been able to convince them to let me stay. They clearly didn’t want me to, but they agreed because she asked them to. Even though she wasn’t related to any of them, they treated her like family. They trusted her with their lives.

She truly was special.

It wasn’t until after I saved the group from Combustion Man that they began to trust me on my own. Aang and Toph were almost immediately on board with me while Sokka and Katara were more hesitant. But Y/N was by far my #1 supporter and grew to be my best friend. She did everything in her power to help me gain the group’s trust.

She accompanied Aang and I to the ancient Sun Warrior’s temple. She helped me break Sokka’s dad and girlfriend out of prison. She even tracked down Katara and Sokka’s mom’s killer with me. All to get me to trust them.

And everything she did just made it harder for me to repress my feelings for her. Her laugh sent butterflies off in my stomach. Her smile made my heart ache. Her kindness made me feel things I had never felt before. And there were countless times I had been caught staring at her.

Pretty much everybody could see I was desperately head over heels for her. But I was still fighting myself over wether to tell her or not. I really wanted to tell her. Especially now that we had become friends, it could be possible. But there was always a tiny voice in my head that told me I would never be good enough for her. It told me that I wouldn’t be able to treat her the way she deserved. That she deserved someone worthy of her and that I clearly wasn’t.

That was the battle I had within myself everytime I saw her and now was not an exception to that.

Sokka had convinced us all to go see a play about ourselves. I had originally been against the idea until I saw how excited Y/N was to go. I immediately agreed after that. Now, she was sitting right next to me as we waited for the play to start.

My heart was pounding out of my chest. She was so close to me that if I moved even an inch to the right we would be touching. Her hand brushed against mind as she talked with Katara, spending sparks through my arm. She had no idea how crazy she drove me.

“Zuko, are you ok?” Aang asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Huh?...Oh! Y-Yea. Just nervous about the play,” I lied.

Luckily, Aang was gullible. That or he decided to spare me the embarrassment of pressing the issue. Either way, he let it go. Pretty soon, the play had started. Everybody was pissed with how their chatacter was portrayed except Y/N. She was displayed as head strong and independent, constantly shown beating stage me in our fights. To be fair, that part was incredibly accurate. Plus, her excitement over her portrayal was enough to make me forget my annoyance about how state me was portrayed.

The play itself was kind of terrible. The storyline was skewed and the relationships between everyone felt off. It was annoying, but bearable. At least she was happy. After a brief intermission, the play continued. I was thoroughly bored up until the scene in the crystal catacombs. At that point, I’m pretty sure my heart stopped beating.

“I have to admit Prince Zuko, I really find you attractive,” Actress Katara said.

“You don’t have to make fun of me!” Actor Zuko snapped in response.

“But I mean it. I’ve had eyes for you since you first captured me,” Actress Katara cooed.

“Wait. I thought you were the Avatar’s girl?” Actor Zuko asked in confusion.

“The Avatar? Why he’s like a little brother to me,” Actress Katara said through fits of laughter, “I certainly don’t think of him in a romantic way.”

“Well, that’s too bad for you. I’ve only ever had eyes on Y/N,” Actor Zuko exclaimed, turning to face Actress Y/N who was watching from the side.

Everyone turned to look at me and I shrunk into my seat. Thank Agni the theatre was dark otherwise they would clearly see the blush covering my face.

“You like me?” Actress Y/N asked with a laugh.

“Your beauty and power is alluring. You’ve had my heart since the day I met you,” Actor Zuko said, taking Actress Y/N’a hands in his.

I could feel everyone’s eyes on me as I hid my face in my hood. I desperately wanted this scene to be over.

Oh how I would soon regret that wish.

Actress Y/N laughed uncontrollably. She even wiped a fake tear from her eyes when she was done.

“I could never like you!” Actress Y/N exclaimed , pushing Actor Zuko away, “I’m much to powerful for you. You disgust me. You’re nothing but a monster. An obstacle in my way.”

I felt my heart sink. Even though she hadn’t actually said those things, it hurt like she did. I needed to leave. I saw Aang getting up to leave and mumbled something about going with him before bolting out of the theatre.

I walked outside the theatre as I thought over everything that had happened. I scolded myself for ever allowing myself to feel things for her. What Actress Y/N had said was probably true. How could she ever see me as anything other than a monster? She was much better than I ever could be, not to mention everything I’d put her and her friends through.

I sat down at the beach that was across from the theatre. I groaned as I let myself lean against the rocks. I cursed under my breath. How did I let myself get so worked up over a stupid play. A stupid play about stupid-

“Hey.”

My heart dropped into my stomach. I felt like I was going to be sick from nerves. I opened my eyes and looked to the side to see Y/N sitting next to me in the sand. I looked up at the stars to avoid her gaze.

“Hi,” I forced myself to say.

“You seemed upset when you stormed out of the theatre, so I wanted to come check on you,” she explained, placing a hand on my shoulder.

Her touch sent a shock across my whole body. Even just her touch drove me wild. I was properly and thoroughly whipped.

“I’m fine,” I insisted, still not looking at her.

“You wouldn’t have stormed off if something didn’t upset you,” she argued, scooting even closer to me.

Spirits, I wanted nothing more than to pull her close to me and never let go. To her over and over again. I forced myself to stop thinking about how close she was. I needed to forget about it. It would never happen. Ever.

“Is it because of what Actress Me said?” she asked.

“I...” I went to deny it, but couldn’t come up with something to say, so I simply sighed.

“Zuko, you know I don’t see you as a monster, right?” she assured me, squeezing my shoulder as she did.

“Why not?” I exclaimed, finally looking at her as I felt my heart breaking into a million pieces, “After everything I’ve done to you and your friends, why don’t you hate me?”

She seemed taken aback at my sudden outburst before her expression softened once more. She let her hand drop from my shoulder and instead took my hand in hers. She gave me a soft smile as she squeezed it.

“Because you’re a good person who got handed a terrible hand of cards to start your life with. I don’t blame you for struggling. I think that makes you an even better person, actually. It means you’re not afraid to work for what’s right, even if it’s hard,” she explained.

I couldn’t stop myself anymore. She looked radiant in the moonlight and her speech was enough to make my heart explode. I reacted before I could think twice about it. I let my free hand cup her face and pressed my lips onto hers. They were soft and warm and everything I had imagined and more.

But then the realization of what I had just done crashed down on me and I snapped myself back. I stared at her shocked face in horror. Oh Agni what had I done?

“I-I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. Oh spirits, I-“ I began apologizing before I was muffled by her lips crashing into mine.

I was surprised that she was kissing me, but that didn’t stop me from kissing back. My heart swelled with joy as I kissed her back, letting my hand cup her cheek softly. When she finally pulled away, she rested her forehead against mine.

“I was wondering how long it was going to take you to do that,” she giggled.

“W-What?” I asked, clearly confused as to what she meant.

“Zuko, you’re not very good at hiding your feelings,” she teased, causing me to get flustered once again.

She laughed as I began to blush profusely. I rubbed the back of my neck sheepishly as I pulled away from her. I felt her hand on my face and then a soft peck on my cheek.

“You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed,” she said, a huge grin plastered on her face.

I felt my face grow hotter as my blush grew more intense, but I couldn’t stop myself from smiling back at her. She stood up and held a hand down for me to take.

“Come on. The intermission will be over soon and everyone will be wondering where we are,” she said.

I grabbed her hand and let her help me on to my feet. She laced her fingers with mine and walked beside me all the way back to the theatre.

The rest of the play sucked. It was probably one of the worst ones they had ever out on. And yet, despite that, I had never been happier. Y/N made me happier than I had ever been before. Looking back, I really should have just come clean about my feelings. But I wouldn’t change it. The way it went down was perfect to me.

Who knew it would be as easy as all that?

[confused-stars]

They say the 'L-word' less than a month into knowing each other.

They were just hanging out down by the river with a paper bag full of pastries, and watching the clouds in the sky until it's time for dinner. Oboro is reluctant to get up, but he does, and Hizashi stays put - he has the shorter way home, he can enjoy the last rays of sun a little while longer.

"Bye, Zashi," Oboro says, waving down at him.

Hizashi smiles. "Bye, Obo, love you."

There's a split second of silence, before Oboro laughs. "I love you, too, idiot."

He nudges Hizashi with his foot, and then runs off when Hizashi lets out an indignant squawk with only a hint of his quirk.

Hizashi lies back down in the grass with a happy, warm feeling in his stomach that is definitely not butterflies.

___

Two months into knowing each other, Oboro regularly gives Hizashi piggyback rides.

That one started after a particularly rough day at training that left Hizashi feeling like his legs were about to give out from running so much. Oboro would usually just transport him on a convenient cloud, but he'd overused his quirk that day, so old-fashioned piggyback it was. And once they started, and Hizashi noticed how warm Oboro is and how nice his hair smells and how broad his shoulders are... well, why stop?

It's a regular occurrence now, to see Oboro racing down the halls with Hizashi on his back, laughing and cheering for him to go faster. Oboro insists it's good training. Hizashi just enjoys not having to walk... and drawing attention doesn't hurt, either.

___

Four months into knowing each other, they start holding hands.

They're in Hizashi's room when it first happens. The music is, for once, turned down, and they've long since gotten distracted from their homework in legal studies. It's Oboro's weak point, all the tiny details to pay attention to, and the memorization, so of course Hizashi offered to help. He's good with words, even if it's legal jargon. But, this is even more important.

"No, look." Hizashi repeats the sign for the fifth time. "Like that. You need to crook your fingers more when you move them that way."

Oboro tries to imitate him again, and Hizashi fights the urge to laugh at how clumsy he is. Oboro is really trying to learn a second language here, mainly for Hizashi's sake, and that's sweet of him.

Hizashi reaches out for his hand and does the movement with him. "There. Like that." Oboro's hand is warm and strong and slightly calloused from battle training, and Hizashi's is small around it. He lets go and Oboro does the sign again.

"... eh, it'll do," Hizashi decides. He shuffles closer to Oboro and pulls one of their textbooks across the carpet. "Now, we really gotta get on this if you wanna understand a word in class tomorrow." He twirls his pencil in his hand, a soothing, repetitive movement, swishing it from side to side.

Oboro's hand closes around Hizashi's free one, and Hizashi just smiles, humming happily to himself as he leans over the book and begins to go through his notes again.

___

Five months into knowing each other, they start kissing.

Hizashi is curled into Oboro on the Yamadas' living room couch late at night. The rest of the house is already asleep, but as long as they keep it down, Hizashi's parents don't mind them staying up a bit longer. They'll migrate to Hizashi's room eventually, but it's just so comfortable here. Hizashi could just about doze off like this. Oboro makes for the perfect pillow.

"Hey, Zashi?"

Hizashi hums in question, bleary eyes half-looking at the tv screen through smudged glasses.

"... you ever think about what it'd be like to kiss Aizawa?"

Oh. Hizashi blinks. "Uh... yeah. Sometimes." It doesn't feel weird talking about this, though he thinks maybe it should? But this is Oboro. His best friend. Co-parent of the brain cell. They share everything, always.

Oboro runs a hand through Hizashi's hair, still damp from the shower he took earlier while Oboro was charming his family as always. He fits into their house so seamlessly that Hizashi's sister has joked about how one of them might as well marry him, to which Oboro blushed incessantly in a way that was... well, Hizashi wishes he'd taken a picture so he could look at it again.

"I've never kissed anyone before," Oboro says thoughtfully, "I wonder if I'd be any good at it."

Hizashi peeks up at him over the rim of his glasses, which means all he sees is a blur of tan and blue. "Yeah, me neither. Is that something you need to practice to get good at?" It would make sense. Hizashi has no idea what kissing is supposed to be like.

Oboro seems to contemplate that for a moment. Or maybe he's just sleepy. "Maybe? I think enthusiasm counts for a lot though."

Hizashi snorts. "That's your go to for everything, O." He wonders if Aizawa would want to kiss either of them. He doesn't seem the type to be interested in much of anyone, but he's just closed off in general. They've been breaking down his walls slowly.

"... so..." Hizashi says slowly, "If either of us gets to kiss Aizawa, shouldn't we be prepared?"

Oboro nods, as always following his train of thought. "He is pretty hard to impress."

Hizashi reluctantly shifts in Oboro's arms, turning to face him properly. "So... practice?"

Oboro's smile is sleepy and soft, and Hizashi finds that he doesn't mind kissing it away at all.

___

Six months into knowing each other, they realize.

Hizashi is sitting on Oboro's lap, snuggled into his broad chest because even though it's Summer, the night is getting a bit cold. Not to mention the bugs he's skillfully avoiding this way.

Shouta - because finally, finally he's allowing them Shouta - is sitting next to them, curled into himself and staring into the fire.

It's their last night at training camp, so they're finally allowed to stay up late, and though they're all exhausted, none of them wants to admit defeat and go to sleep. There's been a lull in conversation once people ran out of ghost stories to tell, and now they're all just sitting in comfortable silence. Enjoying each other's company.

Hizashi is humming under his breath, but it's quiet enough that only Oboro can hear. He's got a stick that he's peeling, tossing bits of bark and wood into the fire every now and then.

Oboro's arm is warm against his shoulders. Hizashi feels like he could nod off any second.

If they never become heroes, and instead stay frozen in this moment forever, he'd be perfectly content.

He's not sure he's ever felt properly content before.

When he looks up at Oboro, he finds his best friend is watching Shouta with an entirely too soft expression on his face. Hizashi follows his gaze, and he's pretty sure a moment later he's sporting the same expression.

Shouta's face is lit a gentle orange by the flickering campfire, a barely there smile on his face that shows how happy he is. Here. With them. Where he belongs.

The light makes his features seem even softer, smoothing them out where they've grown a little sharper recently, and reflecting as a glimmer in his dark eyes.

He's stunning.

There's strands of hair falling into his face as usual, and before Hizashi can go through with tucking them behind his ear, there's already an arm being lifted to do just that.

Hizashi watches as Shouta turns his head and blinks at Oboro in surprise. His cheeks are tinged slightly pink, but that might be the heat from the fire.

"Lemme braid your hair, Sho," Hizashi finds himself saying, speech slurring a little with sleepiness.

Shouta's mouth twists downwards. "You're barely awake. That's a terrible idea."

"Oh, ye of little faith," Hizashi says, a little dramatically, and makes grabby hands at Shouta.

With a sigh, Shouta complies and turns his back to them.

Hizashi takes the strands Oboro just tucked back and begins braiding them along the side of Shouta's head, the fire giving barely enough light for him to see his work. But his hands are experienced and sure, and the familiar motion is soothing.

"You have... nice hair. Soft," Oboro says, interrupted by a yawn, "Not like Zashi's. The gel ruins it."

Hizashi shoves at him with his shoulder. "Not all of us can have cotton candy on our heads."

Shouta snorts a laugh, and Hizashi beams, because those are rare enough and they're delightful to listen to.

"Go out with us," he finds himself saying before he can stop himself. And isn't that on brand, Yamada? He bites his lip. Shouta is frozen, still with his back turned to them. "I... I mean, only if you'd like that? Or if you only wanna go out with one of us, that'd be fine, too?"

He feels Oboro's hand on his shoulder and leans into the contact, quieting down.

"Sho?" Oboro asks gently, "You... okay?"

Hizashi feels terrible. He shouldn't have asked like that. Especially since some of their classmates are definitely listening in on this now. Should've waited. Should've planned this better, talked it through with Oboro, because they were fine talking about dating Shouta in theory, but what if Oboro's not fine with sharing? What if he'll want to be with Shouta and then Hizashi won't get to cuddle him and hold his hand and kiss him anymore? Because Shouta would be doing that, then. Like a boyfriend does.

"... with both of you?" Shouta's turned around now, eyes moving between their faces. There's... mainly just confusion in there.

"Yeah?" Oboro laughs a little, but Hizashi can tell it's nervous. "We've both liked you for a while, and we share everything else anyway! Not that you're an object to be shared, yikes, could've worded that better, huh? But, anyway, the point is-"

This time Hizashi is the one to stop Oboro's rambling, though not entirely on purpose. He just buries his face against his shoulder, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Somehow, that gets Oboro to stop talking. A warm hand draws soothing circles on Hizashi's back.

"But..." Shouta still sounds so confused. "But you two are... happy together?"

That gets Hizashi's head to jerk up. "Together?" he echoes.

Oboro makes a soft noise of surprise. "Shouta... Zashi and I aren't dating."

Shouta's eyebrows draw together. "You make out all the time. You're always holding hands. I've heard you say 'I love you' to each other."

"Well, yeah, but..." Oboro seems to be processing this. Hizashi isn't faring much better.

"That's just a best friend thing!" is what he comes up with.

Shouta... Shouta buries his face in his hands.

"Are you fucking serious?" someone's voice comes from their right, and Hizashi doesn't even care to identify it.

Because Shouta is right.

He looks up at Oboro. "Hey... hey, O?"

Oboro nods numbly.

"Are we dating?"

Another slow nod, and a half-shrug that seems to signal 'I guess?' in Oboro-code.

Hizashi isn't sure what to do about that so he shoots him finger guns. "Rad."

"... you're fucking kidding." Ah. Shouta's back with them. He's glaring, but he also seems to just be in general despair. "You didn't know? Everyone else knew!"

"... everyone?" Hizashi asks.

"Everyone!" comes another voice from the void.

Hizashi wants to sink into the floor and die. Instead, he finds himself hidden by a convenient cloud, shielding the three of them from the rest of their class, and he leans his burning face against the welcomingly cool, soft surface.

"I'm going to live in a cloud forever," Oboro speaks his thoughts out loud, "I'm going to lift myself up into the sky and become one with them."

Shouta laughs again. "Wow. I knew you two were idiots, but this... this is insane."

"Do you find our suffering funny, Shouta?" Hizashi speaks into the cloud.

"Very," Shouta confirms, almost cheerful in his tone of voice.

"Okay," Oboro says, "Okay, so we've established Zashi and I are boyfriends. But you, dearest Shouta, are dodging the question. Will you or will you not join us for our first official date night?"

Shouta huffs. "Obviously. You two can't function even slightly without me."

Hizashi peels his face out of the cloud. "Seriously?" Well, then... who even cares about his embarrassment anymore?

"Yeah, seriously," Shouta says. Then, quieter: "Dumbass."

Hizashi gasps in mock-offense, and Oboro starts laughing so hard his quirk slips away from him and the cloud dissipates. Hizashi glares at both of them. "Oh, I see how it is. Two boyfriends means twice the bullying."

"I bullied you before," Shouta points out.

Oboro takes in a breath of air, still slightly shaking with laughter. "Yeah, but now you can also shut him up with kisses. A whole new world!"

Shouta seems to contemplate that for a moment. Then he nods. "Acceptable."

Hizashi thinks so, too.

[masonscig]

attached series | part two: envy

pairing | mason x detective x felix [detective sofía olmos]

word count | 3.8k

tags | @choicesarehard ; @pixelsandkink ; @brightpinkpeppercorn ; @messofakind ; @raleiighcarrera ; @pixeljazzy ; @cellophanesheep ; @senatorraines ; @beccadavenport ; @wayhavenschronicles ; @hudush ; @pumpkinpeng ; @knightava ; @thebobbyfish ; @agentnate ; @admdmrtn ; @losingface (lmk if you want to be removed)

author’s note | omg i can’t tell you how much it’s meant to me that people liked the first part, as bare bones as it was since i didn’t really have an idea then but i definitely do now! i’m obsessed with writing felix AND mason so this has been soooo much fun. thank you if you’ve read this !!!! i hope you enjoy it :)

read on ao3

•─────────────────•

He strode down the hallway, hands in his pockets to give the illusion that he didn’t give a shit, when he was most definitely on edge. His fingers flicked his lighter open and closed against the twill lining of his pockets, trying to focus on the soft clicking noise it made instead of the swarm of thoughts clouding his conscience.

He still couldn’t figure out why he cared so much.

So what, she didn’t try to contact him the past week? He didn’t give a shit. He had bigger things to worry about.

Like his job. And the next piece of ass he was going to conquer.

He had an ample selection of people to choose from, inside the Agency and outside of it. All he had to do was pick his target, turn on a bit of his whorish charm, and – nine times out of ten – they were putty in his hands.

It was baffling to him that since meeting her, when he caught someone staring at him, the familiar glimmer of hunger in their eyes, he felt nothing.

Sofía had burrowed her way into his subconscious and wouldn’t get the fuck out no matter how many distractions he created for himself. 

He rounded the corner, picking up speed to push through the large wooden door leading to the meeting area.

Despite everything, his pulse quickened at the thought of seeing her again. Not that he’d admit it, but he was… mildly excited.

––––

He plopped onto the cushiony sofa, swivelling so that he could lay back and prop his legs up on the arm rest, folding his arms behind his head.

“Am I doing the Ferris Bueller pose right?” He grinned, wiggling his ankles.

Nate sighed, pointing to his feet.

“Yeah, aren’t my new sneakers sick? I wanted the Marty McFly shoes but they were so expensive so Sofia helped me pick a knock off instead,” he beamed, extending his leg towards Nate. “Wanna touch ‘em?”

“Please get your feet off the couch, Felix,” he commanded gently, licking the tip of his finger to flip the worn page of his dense book.

“Awe, you’re no fun. If I put my feet on the ground, who’s gonna see ‘em?”

“This isn’t show-and-tell, Felix. This meeting has a purpose,” Adam said from the corner of the room, standing rigid against the wall.

“Every meeting is show-and-tell if you have something new, like my shoes,” he wiggled his brows, leaning forward to untie and retie his shoes for the hundredth time, trying to get the loops just right.

“Seems like you had a good time with Sofía yesterday,” Nate murmured, glancing over the cover of his book, a soft smile on his lips.

Felix’s grin stretched wider at the mention of the detective’s name.

He’d had more than a good time with Sofía at the mall. He’d had the best time.

They’d spent nearly the whole week together, binge watching films to cheer her up. He didn’t really have the attention span to watch movies, but sharing a blanket with her, fingers grazing when they both went for the kettle corn at the same time… it was straight out of a rom-com.

He didn’t really get the hype of kettle corn, but people were supposed to eat it to enjoy movies more… right? He could care less about how shitty it tasted as long as he could spend more time with her.

“I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with me like… this for the past few days, but I really appreciate it,” she smiled, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’ve got to make it up to you somehow.”

“Hmm,” he mused, screwing his lips to the side of his face. “Nope. I’m just happy we’ve gotten to hang out. You’re always so busy!”

“You say that like you’re not a whole ass supernatural being that works for a secret agency,” she raised a brow at him, the smile still tugging at her lips.

“Touche, touche. I’ll give you that, human,” he said, pushing his brows together like he was trying to sound commanding.

“Oh, please, don’t give me that ‘human’ talk. You know you love our pop culture way too much to talk down to me like that,” she laughed, pretending to shove his shoulder.

“Yeah, I really do,” he laughed. “There’s so much I wanna do that I haven’t been able to with all of this ‘lay low’ shit. Sometimes it makes me wish I had a past human life I could remember like Nate or Adam, ya know?” He shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant, when it clearly was something that passed through his mind often.

She shifted on the couch, looking a little uncomfortable. Oh no, he thought. I should’ve just kept that in. There I go again, oversharing when I don’t even know if she cares –

“Is there anything I can do to help you with that?”

“Huh?” His focus was torn away from overthinking.

“If you’ve got a bucket list, I can try to help you check some things off,” she shrugged, tossing a few pieces of kettle corn into her mouth, crunching softly.

“What’s that?”

“Like, a list of things you wanna do before you die. Things you wanna do before you kick the bucket.”

“Well…” Felix trailed off, shrugging. “I don’t know why I’d kick a bucket, but I’m not dying anytime soon… or ever.”

Sofía snorted, the sound reverberating off of her apartment walls. “That’s an idiom, Felix.”

“Hey, you don’t have to call me names,” he pouted, brows furrowed.

An even louder laugh ripped from Sofía, her chest heaving as she cackled. “Felix – Felix, please –” She wiped the tears from her eyes, barely able to catch her breath.

He was a little upset at that.

He didn’t have a chance to learn all the stuff he wanted about humans. Nate really only taught him what he thought was important for Felix to know – boring things, like literature and etiquette.

She must’ve noticed him frowning, because her laughter tapered off, looking guilty as soon as she realized he didn’t get it.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I was just messing with you. You’re the funniest guy I know, seriously. And you don’t even try.”

A smile bloomed across his features, a warmth blanketing him, so comforting that he didn’t think the crisp fall wind could make him shiver.

She thought he was funny. The one thing he was good at without being taught.

“Thanks,” he murmured, looking away from her. Did he sense a blush coming on? Wow, that’s a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. But maybe not as of recently, since his cheeks burned around her way more than he’d like to admit.

“Well,” he said, after a brief silence. “I don’t really know where to start.”

She pushed her brows together, her glasses sliding down her nose, which she pushed back in place with a finger. “Hmm… is there anything from the movies we watched that excited you?”

He flipped through images in his brain, trying to pin down things he was drawn to from the movies they’d binged. His eyes lit up the moment he settled on an idea.

“I wanna go to the mall, you know, like in Chopping Mall, except we don’t get killed. I’ve never been to one before.”

Her eyes widened. “Seriously? You’ve never been? Like… ever?”

He shrugged. “I kinda had to stay inside until I learned, uh, what are they called?” He snapped his fingers, squeezing his eyes shut while he racked his brain for the phrase he couldn’t recall. “Social cues! Yeah I was terrible at that at the beginning. Couldn’t go two seconds without bringing up home and the fact that I’m… ya know.” He gestured to himself.

“A vampire?”

“I was gonna say devastatingly handsome, but that fits too,” he grinned as she playfully threw a piece of kettle corn at him.

His smile fell a bit. “I’m trying to make up for lost time.”

“You’ve got forever, right?” She asked hopefully.

He sighed. “Yeah, but when you’ve already missed so much of human history you kinda want to learn more. Nate and Adam and even Mason have cool stories that I can’t even compare to. I want that.”

He pretended not to see her flinch slightly at the mention of Mason. God, Felix, your one job was to distract her. Good work.

“Well, we’re just gonna have to make our own history, huh?” She said softly, gently placing her hand on his arm, a sweet smile on her face.

She was beautiful. He’d seen the movies – he knew exactly how he was supposed to feel when he saw the person he wanted. And for him, when he looked at her, the fireworks were firing off in the background.

He barely resisted the urge to reach out and touch her face. Just barely.

When they finally made it to the mall in the city, after pulling a Ferris Beullers’ (they lied to say they were going downtown to patrol when they were ditching), Felix practically skipped up and down the waxed linoleum flooring, in awe, like a child in a candy shop.

With comically large eyes, face pressed up against the window, he spotted the Marty McFly-esque sneakers and dragged Sofía inside.

So, the shoes meant a lot to him. A symbol of his favorite day in Wayhaven – well, technically outside of Wayhaven, but Adam didn’t need to know that.

“Yeah. I had a great time patrolling.”

––––

Mason pushed through the doors, barely acknowledging the rest of the team’s presence as he retreated to his usual corner, next to a one person armchair.

He tried drowning out Felix and Nate’s incessant chattering, the noise nagging at him like a toothache.

His hand reflexively reached for his back pocket, nearly about to grab a cigarette from the pack. Much to his annoyance, he was reminded that he’d left them in his room, since she was going to be there.

He settled for flicking the lighter again, lips curling into a sneer every time Felix laughed a little too loud. 

His senses were suffering. His head was getting cloudier and cloudier with each passing second.

When the fuck was she gonna show?

Before he could leave to retrieve his cigarettes, Sofía shouldered her way through the heavy door, struggling a little beneath the weight, her bangs falling in front of her glasses.

She looked a little disheveled, like she’d just woken up, but not messy. She was well put together all the time, like every single item she wore was meticulously chosen; she made it look effortless, nevertheless.

It always made him proud of how quickly he could turn her into a writhing mess, and that he was the only one that saw that side of her.

He bit back a smirk, shifting his weight so his hip propped up against the arm of the chair, expecting her to plop next to him.

So when her hazel eyes focused on Felix first, he couldn’t help but grimace.

Her face lit up, and she rushed over to the sofa, passing Mason and Nate, while keeping her attention focused solely on Felix.

“You wore the shoes!” She grinned, dropping her bag on the floor next to the coffee table.

“Yeah, I’m just breaking them in,” he said, wiggling his feet, still splayed out on the couch.

She plopped onto his legs, making Felix laugh out loud. “Hey! Didn’t you tell me not to crease them?”

“Scoot over and I won’t,” she giggled as he lifted his legs dramatically one by one, grazing them over her ducked head.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of her face. She was so… happy. A complete 180 from earlier that week. Not that he expected her to come in a blubbering mess but… something wasn’t right.

Since when did those two get so damn close?

The ache in his head dulled, his senses more manageable from the moment she walked in.

“Hey Nate. Adam. Mason,” she said, waving generally. To any other person who didn’t know Sofía, they’d think she was being friendly. But the millisecond of a pause before she said his name proved she was still upset with him.

Felix leaned in to say something, eyes wide with a grin to match, invading personal space like he normally did. It wouldn’t have bothered Mason, if he hadn’t noticed one thing.

Her heartbeat sped up.

––––

He slid his bookmark into the crease, carefully closing the book. He’d heard Rebecca drive up, so she’d walk in any second now.

Where Nate sat on the love seat in between Felix, Sofía and Mason, he could sense the tension hanging in the air like a shroud smoke. 

Mason was nearly seething in his corner, eyes locked on Felix and Sofía like a cat with its back arched, visibly frustrated. Felix was either willfully or blissfully ignorant of Mason’s energy, while Sofía was wrapped in her own bubble with him, quiet laughs exchanged in the tiny space between them, the occasional word echoing off the brick walls.

Adam could tell, too. A single glance exchanged between them proved they both knew something was wrong.

Rebecca pushed her way through the door, quickly surveying the group before addressing everyone and moving on to explain their assignment.

“We’ve heard rumors of something lurking on the outskirts of Wayhaven, right at the edge of the  town’s limits. Over the next week, you’ll need to split and patrol to confirm if it’s petty gossip, or something more.”

As soon as the last word was out of Rebecca’s mouth, Mason stormed towards the door, opening it with such force that it smacked the wall, cracking the wood, splintering against the brick.

Sofía flinched, eyes wide. Her posture deflated, like she was finally in a good mood that was ruined by Mason’s explosive behavior.

Nate grimaced, sensing the atmosphere shift from tense to dismal. Even Felix’s smile had faltered as he stared at the doorway Mason exited through.

Sofía’s pulse raced as she stared at her lap, absentmindedly twisting her rings around her fingers. 

Rebecca sighed, cutting through the uncomfortable silence. “Sofía will need someone to accompany her, but the rest of you should be prepared to defend yourselves if needed.

“This is a relatively laid back assignment compared to what you’re used to, but I don’t want you to let your guards down. As we’ve seen before, anything can happen. You need to be prepared for the worst. Are there any questions?”

“Who’s going with Sofía?” Felix blurted, glancing back and forth between her and Rebecca.

“I’ll let you decide amongst yourselves,” she gestured at the remaining Unit Bravo members. “However, Sofía has the last word.”

In her own way, Rebecca was extending an olive branch, as miniscule as it was. Sofía hadn’t warmed up to her quite yet, but Nate was anxiously hoping he’d see their relationship blossom in his lifetime. 

Rebecca glanced at Sofía, who was still wringing her hands together, half paying attention.

“Keep me updated,” she nodded curtly, glancing back and forth from Nate and Adam once.

“Of course, Agent Olmos,” Adam said, tipping his chin at her respectfully. As soon as Rebecca was out of the room, Sofía rose from her spot on the sofa.

“I… I have to get back to the station. I’ll get in touch with you after I’m off,” she murmured distractedly, tossing her bag over her shoulder and exiting before they could respond.

“I’ll go with Sofía,” Felix volunteered. “She’ll need someone to cheer her up while she’s out there.” He was clearly upset with how things played out, and Nate knew he needed to physically be there for her to comfort her – that’s the way he’d always been.

“I suppose,” Adam mused, rubbing a thoughtful hand against his chin. “We’ll be close by in case you need anything from us.”

“Watch out for her,” Nate warned gently, nodding towards Felix. “Adam and I will take the West and East borders of Wayhaven. You can take the South, near the entrance.”

“And Mason?” Felix asked, looking like he didn’t want to know the answer.

“He’ll take the North border. Alone,” Nate nodded. “I won’t tell him that you’re with her.”

Adam squinted. “I can’t guarantee that I won’t let it slip if he asks me.”

“Adam,” Nate sighed.

“I refuse to lie. If Mason asks me directly, I will let him know. Otherwise, you’re in the clear.”

Felix grimaced, pinching the strings at the hem of his scarf between his fingers, tugging at them absentmindedly. “Guess I gotta hope I’m lucky.”

Adam snorted. “Luck won’t help us if Mason finds out we kept this from him.”

––––

Sofía jogged down the hallway, shoving out the double doors towards her car.

Mason stood next to it, puffing a cigarette, arms crossed, looking absolutely volatile. Smoke curled around him like a warning sign, like his boiling blood was pushing steam out of his body. Don’t come closer, it said. She did anyway.

“What are you doing out here?” She sighed, shifting her purse on her shoulder, keys in hand. She’d slowed a few feet away from him, his back turned to her.

He didn’t answer her, nor look at her, eyes transfixed on the swaying trees on the edge of the woods.

“I don’t have time for this. I have to get back to the station.” She walked around him, refusing to look at his face, reaching out for the handle.

“You seemed to have a lot of time to waste back there,” he growled, stopping her in her tracks.

“Seriously?” She turned towards him, pushing her bangs out of her eyes. “What does that mean?”

“I’m not gonna spell it out for you, sweetheart,” he mumbled around the cigarette, pinched between his lips, set in a thin line.

“Why the fuck are you acting like this? And back there, too, in front of everybody. What’s your problem?” She asked, craning her neck forward.

“You could’ve at least tried to keep that shit to a bare minimum in a meeting.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about. You’re not dumb, detective,” he enunciated each syllable of her title, like it was an insult.

“Since when do you care about being ‘respectful’ in meetings?” She air quoted around the word, keys jangling from where they hung off of her thumb.

“I don’t.”

“Then why are you berating me right now, when I don’t even know what you think I did wrong?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, insufferably, shrugging like he wasn’t making her crazy. God, Sofía normally wasn’t an angry type – but she was stubborn, and Mason knew exactly how to push her buttons. “Then why are you acting like a fucking child?” She asked, voice raised. Guilt set in after she heard her voice echo around her. Maybe it wasn’t the best move to argue with Mason when all of Unit Bravo could hear. He was silent. He took long, deep drags from the cigarette, pinched between his thumb and pointer finger. He let the smoke seep out his nose slowly, clouding his features. He inhaled one last time, flicking the bud onto the ground before he smashed it beneath his boot. He met her eyes, the grey of his iris nearly swirling like the stormy, tornadic clouds.

“Your heartbeat.”

He said it so low that she could barely understand it herself. Maybe he didn’t want the team to hear. Didn’t want Felix to hear.

“I literally can’t control my heartbeat, Mason.”

“It spiked… around him.” His eyes flickered away from her, towards the trees again.

“That’s what you’re mad about?” She huffed in disbelief.

Silence. “Well, can you stop acting like that? I’m not yours. You made that clear last week,” she rolled her eyes, unlocking her car, opening the door.

“Acting like what?” He challenged, nearly growling. He’d completely ignored anything beyond the initial question.

“Like you’re jealous,” she nearly spat, tongue flicking as she enunciated each word.

“I’m not fucking jealous.” His nose scrunched like he was holding back a snarl.

“Yeah, well your tantrum says otherwise. Stop acting like a baby. You’re too old for this.”

His eyes narrowed, and he stepped back, letting her slam her door. He turned and walked in without another glance.

She revved the engine and peeled away from the warehouse, expecting to feel a sense of triumph in having the last word, but nothing came. Just emptiness.

––––

A growl ripped from Mason as he paced around his room towards the door, dragging his laundry basket behind him.

For the millionth time, Felix tried pawning his responsibility off onto Mason by planting his harder to wash items at the bottom of his basket.

He didn’t want to learn how to wash a beanie or a scarf, so he pawned it off on the person down the hall.

Felix never pulled this shit with Nate, so why would he try it with Mason? It was beyond him.

Laundry basket grating on the ground behind him, sending electric shocks up his spine at the volume, Mason gritted his teeth, ready to fling his basket at Felix’s door, fully prepared for the plastic to shatter and rip into their clothes. But it was worth it.

Instead, he found the door ajar, the sickeningly bright tones of Felix’s room instantly giving him a headache.

Ugh. What the fuck was so great about the color yellow?

Adam had warned all of them to passcode lock their doors behind him no matter what, since they clearly only relied on themselves for security, being that their home base was in the center of the woods.

Mason dug through the basket, flinging shit into the room, strewing the bright socks, beanies, t-shirts, and scarves across the floor.

He still had a bone to pick with Felix, but at least he got most of his anger out of his system.

Right as he was about to leave, something next to the entrance of his room caught his attention.

The shoes Sofía bought Felix.

Crisp, clean, and begging to be tampered with.

He didn’t mull over the decision for long, grabbing the shoes by their laces and chunking them into his basket, covering them with a pair of jeans.

He grabbed the basket with the tips of his fingers, hoisting it over his back, strolling back towards his room with a slight pep in his step.

––––

[pennamesmith]

Skeletor Takes a Holiday

Catra thinks on the past. Adora gives out presents. Glimmer looks to the future. Entrapta drives a tank. Hordak and Bow do their best. A She-Ra Day Special. 

More “Skeletor” stories here! 

*

“Blast you, you miserable cat! Let me go!” Skeletor squawked. 

“Reel it in, bonehead,” Catra replied coolly. She was leading Entrapta’s rebellious reprogrammed robot by what amounted to an ear, his arms full of stolen sugar plums. 

“Please, let me explain!” Skeletor protested. “I must save the children!”

“Tell it to the queen,” Catra shrugged back. “If you really wanted to get away with it, you wouldn’t have let me catch you. And anyway, Wrong Hordak says we need more help at the snack tables.”

“You overgrown fur coat,” Skeletor grumbled. “How dare you embarrass me in front of everyone?”

They were walking down a hallway of Bright Moon palace, making their way toward one of the large common rooms. On most weeks, Wrong Hordak used the space to hold a support group for clones and other former members of the Horde, who met to talk about their lives and their feelings. Together, they healed, held on, and let go. And, with great bravery and reluctance, they tried new ways to be themselves. 

Today, they were hosting a wellness afternoon. 

Catra pushed open a pair of double doors and was greeted by the sight of a warm, bustling room. The therapy group regulars were there, but so were various palace staff and citizens of Bright Moon, as well as former Horde soldiers cautiously following the flyers distributed by an enthusiastic flock of clones. Mixed together, they mingled, tentatively. 

Stations were set up in this and the adjoining rooms, each providing sample servings of various simple self-care options. In one area, Netossa and Spinnerella taught comics and cartooning to a circle of curious clones. In another, Swift Wind pranced at the head of an aerobics group. Glimmer had set up a portable kitchen by the window and was showing some palace guards how to make vegetable dumplings. Just about everyone looked like they were having a good time. 

Catra waded through all of this and found Wrong Hordak teaching an improv comedy workshop — alongside the regular support group’s newest member, who was currently hanging off the cheerful clone’s shoulder like a feathered boa constrictor. 

“Yes, and?” Double Trouble prompted the group, raising an emphatic hand. “Tell me what comes next! Show me passion! Show me imagination!”

“Start the performance! I demand to be amused!” interrupted Skeletor. 

Everyone fell silent and turned to look at Catra. “I got Skeletor back,” she said simply, showing off her perturbed prisoner.

“Wonderful work!” Wrong Hordak exclaimed. He pulled a small instruction manual bearing the seal of Dryl out of his pocket and flipped through the handwritten pages. “Skeletor, please perform…” He squinted at the messy longhand. “...Relationship-building subroutine eighteen. Ah, I think I see what the problem was.”

Skeletor abruptly saluted, dropping most of his plums in the process. “I hate to leave this touching scene, but I see my plan has failed! I’ll be back another time, my friend,” he said, marching off to greet new arrivals and attend to the snack tables. 

Catra turned to go, but found her way blocked when Double Trouble materialized in front of her. 

“It’s good to see you back, kitten,” the lizard smirked. “We almost thought you’d abandoned us! And speaking of, look who I found while you were away.” They pointed. “Some old friends of yours!”

Following the gesture, Catra looked around and felt her insides do a flip-flop as she recognized Kyle, Lonnie, and Rogelio among the group. Double Trouble seemed about to say more, but was instantly distracted when Wrong Hordak winked and called them over for help with an armload of props and costumes. 

...Which left Catra alone to face her three erstwhile friends. Who had already made eye contact and started walking towards her. The former force captain wished furiously for an alien abduction, or to be struck down by lightning, but she had no such luck. 

“Hi Catra!” Kyle squeaked. Rogelio rumbled something in a friendly tone. 

“Catra,” Lonnie greeted simply, wearing an unreadable expression. 

“Oh wow,” Catra stammered. “It’s, uh, it’s been a while guys. Haven’t seen you since…” 

“Since you went off the deep end and we deserted the Horde?” Lonnie finished for her. 

Catra shrank a little. “Yeah. Since that. I’m… really sorry about all that, by the way. Have you all been okay?” 

“We stick together. We have a good life. And we heard that you and Adora got married, so now I guess I owe Rogelio money.” Lonnie laughed. “No invitations for us, huh?” 

“It was really small,” Catra muttered, feeling worse by the second. She touched her ring. “Just a few guests in the park. Nothing major.” 

Lonnie held up her hands. “Hey, it’s cool, none taken. I just hope you treat her better now than you did when we were in the Horde.” 

Catra felt her hackles rise and did everything she could to squash them back down again. “We’re fine,” she managed, eventually. “You haven’t seen her around anywhere, have you?” 

“Yeah. Over by the board games with the science princess and, you know...” Lonnie mimed a tall, fanged figure with a squinting scowl. “Though I still don’t know how I feel about those two.” 

Kyle and Rogelio looked at each other.

“Thanks,” Catra muttered, and slunk away. 

Catra found herself stuck in her own thoughts as she wandered in the direction Lonnie had pointed, barely able to muster a friendly wave as she passed Scorpia in Perfuma’s yoga group or Bow at the jigsaw puzzle table. She kept replaying the conversation in her head, thinking about things she could or would or should have said. 

In the pit of her chest, she could feel the faint fear of a voice that said she hadn’t changed at all. Unbidden, the image of her own hand on the portal lever came to her. Stupid, stupid, she thought at herself, until the self-loathing drove away the shame. 

Catra sighed. She was working on it. 

Fortunately, she didn’t have long to perseverate. Sure enough, Adora was in the board games area, seated around a table with Entrapta, Hordak, Emily, and Imp. All five of them were thoroughly engrossed in a heated round of Betrayal at Horror Hall. 

“I’ve rolled a three,” Hordak declared as Catra approached. “Is that good?” 

“No, it means you’re still trapped in the Dark Dimension,” Entrapta explained evenly. “My turn! I move into the throne room and attack the ghost!” 

“Attack! Attack!” Imp echoed in her voice. 

Emily beeped. 

“Hey Adora,” Catra sighed with relief as she joined them. “How’s it going?” 

“Emily betrayed us all, the Dark One has escaped, and I’m dead!” Adora wailed. “In the game, I mean,” she clarified, gesturing to her battle figurine, which was tipped on its side. Catra smiled and settled in, already feeling more assured of herself. 

“Oh, and you have got to try Hordak’s new coffee,” Adora continued, proffering a steaming paper cup. “He called it a… peppered mint mo-cah?” She looked at Catra with immeasurable eyes and giggled. “I think I can hear space.”

Catra had a thought. She glanced at Entrapta. 

“That reminds me,” Catra started cautiously. “You know that charity stunt or whatever you goons have planned for the night before Adora’s birthday?”

“You mean She-Ra Day Eve?” Adora asked, a huge grin plastered on her face.

“Yeah, that one. I changed my mind about staying home. I want in.” 

“Oh, yay!” Adora nearly fell out of her seat leaning over to hug her wife. “We’re gonna have so much fun!”

“It will be a significant benefit to have extra helpers,” Hordak added with approval as he looked up from the game board. “Entrapta has engineered quite an undertaking for this event.” 

“She has? Uh, how elaborate are we talking, exactly?” Catra asked, already beginning to regret her decision. 

Entrapta leaned across the table. “Oh, it’s gonna be big,” she boasted, grinning. Then she sat back in her hair and laughed madly, swinging her feet with delight. 

Catra gulped. Somewhere, she could hear a bell ring. 

*

They were standing outside in the starry night. 

It did not snow in Bright Moon, but the air was chilly, and everyone assembled was wearing heavy winter coats. Catra, sinking into hers like a turtle, leaned against Adora’s arm and groaned. 

“I’m gonna be so bad at this,” she complained. 

“You’re gonna do fine,” Adora cajoled. “You’ll get to throw stuff at people! You love doing that.”

“It wouldn’t be the same without the whole Best Friends Squad anyway!” Bow added, as Glimmer nodded beside him. 

“It’s better with you here,” the queen said, smiling. 

Catra felt her stomach twist and looked away. But that only faced her toward the group’s tallest member, looming lazily on her other side. 

“You seem stressed, Catra.”

Catra glared back up at Hordak. “Easy for you to say! Your wife’s birthday isn’t a national holiday!”

Hordak huffed. “Perhaps not where you come from.”

“I can’t take much more of this,” moaned Skeletor. 

Catra threw up her hands. “Okay, and why is Skeletor here?” she asked helplessly. 

“Silence, you furry fool!” Skeletor retorted. “You ought to know me better than that by now!” He crossed his arms and sulked. 

“We require a full crew for this endeavor,” Hordak explained, more calmly. “Entrapta insisted upon using one of the larger models.” 

“Models of what?” Catra demanded. 

As if on cue, a loud rumbling sound filled the air. The ground began to shake, and an enormous Horde tank rounded the corner, trundled down the road, and came to a juddering halt in front of the gathered friends. It was covered in tinsel and had been repainted with jolly, festive colors. 

“Speak of the gremlin,” Catra mumbled, staring. 

The tank’s front hatch popped open and Entrapta emerged astride Emily, hefting a huge burlap bag. Imp was sitting on her shoulder, wearing a new pair of booties with curled and pointed toes. 

“Merry She-Ra, one and all!” Entrapta crowed. “Welcome aboard the Wrapper Tank!” As they filed past her up the ramp, she rummaged in her bag and passed out what appeared to be accessorized figurines resembling each member of the group. 

Skeletor stared long and hard at his. “Only one is really me! Which one is it?” he mused. 

Glimmer was delighted with hers and immediately set about making it hold hands with Bow’s. Catra held hers uncertainly while Adora toyed with the miniature She-Ra’s sword arm action. 

“Look, it’s a tiny Hordak!” Entrapta squealed with glee as she presented her partner with his own likeness. “Isn’t he cute?”

Hordak smiled as he accepted the gift. “Your craftsmanship is remarkable, as always.” 

Inside the tank was a command bridge the size of a throne room. Several more bags stuffed with small toy princesses rested in the center of the floor. On every surrounding wall there were blinking control panels and swiveling gunners’ chairs. Skeletor sat down in one and spun giddily. 

“I made tiny versions of all the heroes of Etheria!” Entrapta exclaimed, sweeping her hands over everything. “Bow helped with the designs. And then I used my fabrication lab to mass-produce them!” She held her sides and cackled wildly. 

“We’re going to give them out to all the homes in Bright Moon,” Adora added, settling into another chair. “Something for the kids, you know?” Catra, already brightening at the sight of weaponry, grinned and joined her. 

Entrapta tossed herself back into the pilot’s seat. “If this experiment goes well, we’ll be able to expand the operation to other kingdoms next year! Maybe even the whole planet!” 

“Okay, but how are we going to be able to deliver presents to every house if we only have one night?” Bow asked. 

“That’s easy!” Entrapta bragged. “Behold, the power of the Wrapper Tank!” 

With a flourish, she dropped one of the trinkets into a large funnel near the control panel. In seconds, automated arms had bound it in wrapping paper and a purple bow, and fired it out the front cannon at high velocity. 

“This baby can do thirty of these things a minute!” Entrapta shouted proudly as she continued shoveling toys into the machine. 

“Is everyone comfortable?” Skeletor asked. He didn’t wait for an answer before pushing as many buttons as his bony arms could reach. 

With a roar, the engines came to life, and then they were rolling down the road, strafing the kingdom with presents that mostly landed where they were supposed to go. The inside of the tank became a bustle of activity as the crewmates passed gifts to one another and sent them shooting off into the night. Distantly, they could hear people cheering, as well as the occasional sound of something breaking. 

“Is this what we’re doing all night?” Catra asked. She flipped a switch and raised her eyebrows as a Frosta doll hurtled through someone’s window. “You were right, it is kinda fun.” 

“This is the main event, yeah,” Adora replied, launching a volley of Sea Hawks down the block. “We’ve got a few more personal stops to make on the way, though. The first one’s in the Whispering Woods!” 

Catra froze for a moment, imagining the ghosts that were waiting for her in those dark and shifting trees. She shook her head and ignored the thought. 

“What idiot started this whole thing anyway?” Skeletor griped. 

*

The tank made its first stop at a tiny cottage, so small and low that it would have been easy to mistake for nothing at all. 

“Madame Razz?” Adora called as she ducked through the doorway. The others followed behind her in a curious huddle. 

“I brought you some cookies and sweets and stuff,” Adora said, setting the goodies on the table. Bow and Glimmer gazed with interest at the many mystical odds and ends decorating the walls. Entrapta struck up a conversation with the broom. Hordak, who was taller than the ceiling, crouched in as dignified a manner as he could manage.

“Who knows what evil lurks behind these doors?” Skeletor hissed in a hushed whisper.

At the far side of the cottage, Razz sat in a rocking chair and tipped slowly back and forth, staring at nothing. Catra felt her hair stand on end. 

Adora looked worried. “Razz? You there?” 

Madame Razz blinked and snapped out of her trance. “Yes, yes, deary! Come in! I remembered this was going to happen.” Leaping to her feet, she held out a stuffed doll with pointed ears, blue hair, and soulless eyes. “Look here! I have a gift for you also.” 

Adora took it gingerly. “How… nice. What is it?” She turned the doll over in her hands. It wore a rainbow jumper and a plastic smirk. 

“It’s a Loo-Kee on a Ledge!” Razz explained cheerfully. “You put it in your home. Move it every night. Tell the children it can see them. Makes the young ones more obedient!” 

“Thanks, that’s terrifying.” Adora passed the doll to Catra, who seemed far more interested in its potential applications. “I bet it’ll make a nice game.”

“Game?” Razz turned and stared through her glasses in confusion. “We are not here for games, we are here for fruit cake!” 

Before Adora could stop her, the old woman had rushed to her little cottage oven. She made a show of reaching inside with protective mitts and extracted a cold stone brick, which had been placed in a pan with some wild nuts sprinkled on top. 

“You want a slice now?” 

“Oh, absolutely!” Entrapta pushed her way to the front of the group, producing a small buzz saw and a sample jar. “I’ve been reading up on geological gastronomy!” 

”Uh, hey, Entrapta!” Adora intervened. “Did I ever tell you that Madame Razz knew some of the First Ones? Like, personally?” 

“What? Really?” Entrapta turned toward Adora in surprise, and then back to the old woman with renewed interest. She peered through a pair of multi-lensed goggles and raised her eyebrows. “Though that would explain all the tachyons in here. Quick, how many temporal causalities am I holding up?” 

“Ah! You’re a sharp one, deary!” Razz laughed. 

Entrapta shook her hands and pulled a recorder from her pocket. “Aah! You — you’re a walking quantum event! Tell me everything!” 

And in her own way, Razz did. As they chattered back and forth, Adora looked between the old witch and the scientist and wondered why she hadn’t introduced the two of them sooner. 

“That’s a handsome, strapping lad you’ve got there!” Razz whispered conspiratorially to Entrapta. “Does he have a brother?” 

Entrapta smirked. 

“You have a brain that could warm my heart,” Skeletor said. “If I had a heart!” 

*

Much to Catra’s consternation, their next stop did not take them out of the Whispering Woods. While Entrapta and Skeletor tuned up the tank, George and Lance cheerfully embarrassed their youngest son in front of his friends. 

“We’re delighted by your presents!” George punned as his husband passed out mugs of hot cocoa. Hordak took two and carefully decanted the extra into several tiny thermoses. 

Bow handed his fathers a huge stack of neatly handwritten pages. “We brought these for you — Adora’s been helping me translate some of the First Ones records you found at the ruins!” 

“It’s… not very exciting,” Adora admitted. “There’s a lot of complaining about this one guy who just sold really terrible etherium.” 

Despite this, George and Lance seized upon the pages and flipped through them eagerly, talking over each other in excitement. While they sat and chatted energetically with Adora about what the writings contained, Glimmer dragged Catra away to show off her increasing knowledge of the expansive library. 

This left Bow standing alone with Hordak for the first time in the night. The archer and the ex-lord looked at one another, the former desperately searching for something to say while the latter gently nursed his cocoa. They both seemed to sense that some sort of social interaction would be appropriate, but were entirely unsure of what that ought to be.

“Excuses, excuses! I’m tired of all your excuses!” Skeletor yelled from outside. “Fix the problem and go!”

Hordak cleared his throat. “Entrapta tells me you are the one who gave my brother his rather... derivative name,” he tried after a moment. 

Bow made a noise. 

“He thanks you for it,” Hordak said sincerely. 

“I’m sorry! I mean, what?” Bow cautiously opened his eyes. 

“He considers it an essential part of his journey to freedom from Prime’s grasp.” Hordak studied his claws with a careful expression. “Many have encouraged him to take on a more singular moniker. I am among them. Perhaps someday he will. But for now, it is as beloved to him as that theatrical lizard seems to be.” 

“You’re… welcome?” Bow ventured. 

“You are a highly competent engineer,” Hordak stated. “I once mistook your work for Entrapta’s. When we were still enemies, that is.” He hesitated. “I… am pleased that we are not enemies any longer.” 

“Thank you?”

Hordak bowed.

Skeletor popped his head around the door.

“Get a move on, you slugs!” he called. “Hurry! Faster, faster!”

*

Eventually, the Wrapper Tank rolled to a stop at the front gates of Bright Moon palace, precisely where it had begun. There was only one visit left to make. 

“Micah! It’s so good to see you!” Entrapta chirped. “How have things been since we both lived at the mercy of techno-organic island monstrosities?” 

“Quieter,” Micah remarked. “And my food doesn’t get stolen nearly as often.” He smiled. “It’s good to see you, too.”

“I made you She-Ra Day crackers!” Entrapta exulted, holding out a pile of shiny paper cylinders. “They’re an old Dryl tradition, ever since last year. When you pull the ends, tiny snacks come out! And I’ve improved these ones with twenty percent more explosives!” 

“It should be quite a blast!” Skeletor chuckled. “Enjoy the fireworks!”

Gingerly taking the armload of gifts and setting them down as carefully as she possibly could, Castaspella welcomed everyone into a warm and cozy den. She and Micah had lit a roaring fire in the fireplace and were decorating a fir tree with glowing light-charms. A small table held a large platter of cookies, which Adora immediately set about devouring. 

Skeletor paused at the door. “Tell me a riddle!” he demanded. 

Castaspella looked confused. “Excuse me?” 

“He thinks it’s what sorceresses do,” Entrapta told her. “You gotta humor him!” 

“Oh.” Castaspella tapped her chin. “Well, in that case, um… why did the twigget cross the road?” 

Skeletor considered this for a great deal of time before surrendering. “Oh, I’m horrible at riddles,” he groused. “Who’s good at riddles here?”

However, everyone else had already settled in around the fire, tired from a long night of bauble bombardment.

“What do you think of our She-Ra Day decorations?” Castaspella asked proddingly. “Micah wanted a fake tree, but I set him straight on that. Honestly, I don’t know how my brother survived on Beast Island without me.”

“You certainly would have helped scare the monsters away,” said Micah. 

“Y’know, I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have a sibling,” Adora thought out loud. “Could you imagine me with, like, a long-lost First Ones twin? We’d kick so much butt!”

Hordak, Bow, Micah, and Castaspella all shared a look that spoke to something universal. 

“It’s a mixed bag. Casta used to trick me into stealing food for her,” Micah complained. “Pretended it was a game and I got more points if our parents didn’t see me sneak into the kitchen.”

“He hit me with a tree branch once, you know,” Castaspella responded.

“I did no such thing!” Micah argued. “All I did was lead your horse under a tree. It’s not my fault it had remarkably low hanging branches. Or that you didn’t duck in time.”

“Anyway,” Bow cut in, “I think what Micah and Castaspella are trying to say is that despite their differences they get along now and they’re glad to still have each other after all this time.” He glanced at Hordak. “...Even if they used to be enemies.” 

Micah nodded sagely. “That is precisely what I meant,” he lied. 

While they continued with their conversation, Glimmer noticed that Catra was standing alone at the far side of the room, her back to the others, staring at a small portrait of Angella hung above the door. 

“Fascinating,” Skeletor said. “That little insect is feeling sorry for itself!”

Glimmer whispered something to her father and stood up to approach the fretting feline. “Hey, everything okay?” she asked. “You’ve seemed off a lot tonight. You didn’t even laugh when I showed you that book of dirty First Ones jokes in George and Lance’s library.” 

“Huh?” Catra looked up, surprised to have company. “I guess so. Maybe. I don’t know. I mean… are you really sure I should be here?” 

“Well, it’s all Adora has been talking about for the past week, so yeah, pretty sure.” 

Catra shook her head. “No, I mean here at all. Being happy, instead of rotting in a dungeon somewhere.” She scowled. “I know we’ve talked about it, but I just… I did so much bad stuff, back in the Horde. I hurt people. I was awful to Adora. I’m even the reason your mom…”

Catra trailed off. A deep gulf of silence stretched between her and Glimmer. The queen appeared pensive. 

“I’ve done some really bad things too,” Glimmer said eventually. “So I guess maybe I’m the wrong person to ask?” She gave a lopsided smile. 

“But what do you do when people hate you? And you deserve it?”

Glimmer looked concerned. “I don’t think anyone here hates you. Not currently, anyway. Where’s all this coming from?”

“I’d hate me if I were you,” Catra quietly admitted. 

“Maybe. But I’m not you, and you’re not me.” Glimmer turned away and hugged herself. “I’m always going to miss my mom. And it’s always going to hurt. But… I don’t think it’s much use to make that hurt worse by hating you.” She looked back up. “I think anyone can make up for a mistake, as long as they really know it was a mistake. I hope so, anyway.”

Catra scratched her head. “So, what, feeling bad means that I’m good?” 

“Something like that,” Glimmer giggled. “Seriously though, there’s responsibility in this. We never stop working on it.”

“Was that a royal ‘we’?” Catra quipped. 

“No, it goes for both of us. All of us. I mean it.” Glimmer gazed around the room. “Mistakes… never really get completely fixed, you know. It took me a long time to get that. But we can grow something better and stronger with the lessons we learn from them.”

The queen smiled again. “Besides, I’m happier being friends. Look at us all!” 

Catra did. 

Everyone, in one form or another, was relaxing around the glow of the fireplace. Entrapta and Imp knelt by the hearth, doing something with chestnuts and an acetylene torch. Hordak and Micah sat on the couch, swapping horror stories about Shadow Weaver. Bow watched closely as Castaspella instructed him in a new knitting pattern. And Adora appeared to be trading pleasantries with Skeletor as though they were age-old friends. 

“Here, She-Ra! A gift!” Skeletor said. He held out a freshly-baked doomberry pie.

Catra laughed. Suddenly feeling lighter, she went to join them. Glimmer followed. And the great world spun on. 

*

Entrapta clapped her hair. “Thanks for coming, Catra! This was loads of fun!” 

It was early morning and they were all going their separate ways again. Glimmer had already dragged a dozing Bow back to the palace, while Catra and Adora disembarked in front of the small home they shared together. 

“The mission was a great success,” Hordak agreed as Entrapta leaned into his side. “You showed exemplary courage in the field.” 

“Thank you,” Catra said, and meant it. 

Adora, gazing at the sky in contemplation next to her, suddenly realized that the stars weren’t the only things twinkling. 

“Entrapta?” she asked. “You know the space tree?” 

“The large plant growth that overtook Horde Prime’s flagship when She-Ra defeated him and which remains in low Etheria orbit as a constant reminder of the power of love and healing? Yes, I’m familiar with it.”

“Did you put lights on it?”

Entrapta beamed. “Yeah, little blinky ones! Or at least they look little from here. They actually have a diameter of about one Darla each. Alternating current, naturally. Aren’t they great?” 

“You know,” Adora smiled, “I really think they are.” Catra concurred.

They turned and went home together, which left Entrapta and Hordak to return to the Wrapper Tank hand in hand, relaxing into each other’s arms as they sat and shared a tiny thermos of hot cocoa. Under Emily’s supervision, Skeletor and Imp drove the tank back to Entrapta’s Bright Moon lab, and only argued over the steering wheel once along the way. 

As soon as they returned, Hordak sought out their bed and fell gratefully into the soft sheets. Entrapta made to follow him, but before she did so she pulled Skeletor aside with one ponytail, hands hiding something behind her back. 

“And what do you think you’re doing?” Skeletor questioned. 

“Skeletor, you’ve been a big help over the past year,” Entrapta said to the spindly robot. “And I wanted to say thank you. So, I made you another present. You deserve to have a helper too!” 

She pulled her hands from behind her back and revealed a lop-eared robot puppy with wide and innocent eyes. It sat up in her arms and fixed Skeletor with a curious gaze. 

“His name is Relay! What do you think?”

Skeletor gasped in surprise, reaching out to take the robotic canine. “Even Hordak doesn’t have anything like this!” he gushed in a joyous tone. 

The puppy wagged its tail and let out a tiny synthesized bark. It licked Skeletor’s face. 

Skeletor hummed happily. “This is perfect!”

Above them, the stars and the lights shone brightly. And even Skeletor, despite his better instincts, was merry. The world was at peace. 

“A season of love? Caring? Joy? Ugh! Very clever, you muscle-bound moron,” Skeletor conceded. He patted Relay on the head. “Another time, She-Ra! Another time!”

[solecize]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. the boy you meet in detention, felix, doesn’t see colours. you want to gift his eyes with the kaleidoscopes and the rainbows of your world. the palette of your love story is supposed to bring together a work of art, but calamity lies beneath the canvas. 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. felix x reader 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. swearing 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 4.8k 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. do i actually ever proofread anything that i write? also yes this is really late oops anyways i’d appreciate any and all feedback, comments, speculations, etc. i just wanna hear that u guys are actually enjoying this <3 pls and thank you

ORANGE. | PART II - “THE BEACH”

you lived that sweltering summer to the tune of jim morrison and the taste of ocean breeze kissing the tip of your tongue. those moments played back at the back of your mind like a film reel, the rainbows and glimmering lights of it all with felix. before that, though, a dark shadow loomed over and stood firmly in your way. the first challenge you were forced to tackle before embracing your newfound freedom, was tackling graduation. 

everyone hated graduation, save for their own few moments of spotlight, before they were rushed off the stage and reduced to trying to not doze off for the rest of the ceremony. it was an event for the parents of said graduate, rather that the newly finished student themselves. maybe that’s why some people made such a big deal out of prom, claiming it as “their night” and the “pinnacle of youth” or whatever other bullshit your classmates wanted to spew out in order to convince themselves that spending hundreds of dollars on one night was reasonable. obviously, you had skipped. that also meant that today really was a true goodbye to the last four years of pure lunacy. 

“don’t you want to take pictures with your friends?” your mom had asked, after you finished posing for what seemed like an hour for pictures at the front of the school. 

a myriad of graduates and their families teemed along the sidewalks and the parking lot and even just a few feet away from yourself at the entranceway. there were the mandatory pictures with the parents, maybe some with a favourite teacher, as kids held up their awards and flowers with stretched grins plastered upon their faces. you weren’t one of them, though you did get one decent award and a bouquet of forget me nots to show for it. 

you shrugged. “nah. it’s okay.” at that, your mom proceeded to shrug and was distracted momentarily by a fellow pta mom, as they engaged in conversation about the terrible speeches that they were forced to sit through.

the four or so people consisting of people you once considered your “group” were taking pictures in the other direction, doing the stupid jumping in the air pose, as one of their boyfriends was dragged into capturing the moment on someone’s hello kitty cased iphone. you rolled your eyes at the sight. they were crying, something about how they were going to be friends forever.

“what a bunch of saps.”

whirling around, the one thing that wasn’t forced that day was the bright smile tugging at the corners of your lips upon the sight of felix. the chances of finding him before the ceremony were slim, as you had overslept and were basically heaved and yanked and hauled into your parents’ minivan to make it to the graduation. when you finally met once again, your heart began to stumble and leap. 

even despite finding the entire occasion a snooze, you felt a little bad about sleeping right after you were handed your diploma. you missed felix crossing the stage and receiving his own. however, no such disappointment shone in his eyes, which were smiling at you.

you snorted in response. “tell me about it.”

giving him a once over, felix looked.  . .good. you never saw him outside of school and thus, never saw him outside of the ugly polyester uniform that he had no intention of actually wearing properly. he’d abandoned his cap and gown at some point, just left in a grey button up and black slacks. his over the ear headphones still hung around his neck.

“congratulations,” felix said, shyly shoving his hands into his pockets.

you couldn’t help but smile wider. “same to you.”

the two of you had yet to cross paths again since that day in detention. it was almost as if he’d begun skipping class as much as you begun to do so towards the end of the year. maybe a little part of you tried looking for him—you weren’t going to ever admit that—when you poked your head inside the detention room some days hoping to see him or lingered around paradise ice cream a little too long. 

but, you didn’t see him. felix came and went as he pleased, like a ghost. nothing was haunting about that smile, though, as you melted a bit under the sun because of it. you’d never met someone so genuine. 

felix leaned against the wall, peering over at the crowd forming in the parking lot. “you’re not going to that beach party everyone’s talking about?”

he really did listen. you, on the other hand, had no idea about it. frankly, you didn’t care and felix caught onto that quickly with your silent, indifferent shrug.

“your mom?” he questioned and pointed towards her. it wasn’t hard to see the resemblance, as you took after her well.

you nodded in response. “where are your parents?”

“oh, they went back to work. always busy, they were only able to leave for a few hours.” that situation tugged at your heart slightly, trying to imagine what that would’ve been like for him. at least felix didn’t have to go through the mushy traditions. 

a stuffy dinner party was in the works for you later that evening, with your mother calling up just about every relative within two hours away to come and celebrate your milestone. you wanted no part in it, preferring to jump face first back into bed and waste the rest of the day away watching tiktoks. felix made a confused face when you mentioned that.

“i can see why you don’t feeling like celebrating,” felix said, glancing around the streamer decorated walls, trying not to feel tiny underneath the intimidating ‘congratulations graduates’ banner hanging from wall to wall. “when you’re stuck around this place for so long, you’re just relieved enough that you made it out of here.” 

you blinked at him and after a pause, let out a soft chuckle. he’d hit it right on the nail. you didn’t even realize that yourself. 

“honestly? i can’t stand being here for another second.” you sighed, trying to cool down the blood beginning to boil. your patience was ticking and it seemed like your mom wasn’t going to tear away from her conversation with the other ‘can i see your manager?’ pinterest-loving, wine-drinking moms. 

“so don’t.”

biting back a snort, it was obvious that felix was used to just not being somewhere if he didn’t feel like it. however, he had no idea that he sparked an imaginary lightbulb to shine above your head. your eyes darted over to your mother, as your confirmed her lost engagement in her conversation. she wasn’t going to budge anytime soon and that gave you an idea. 

felix noticed the flicker of change in your expression and raised an eyebrow. “what is it?”

a grin spread across your lips. “say, felix.” you dug into your mom’s purse, which she had abandoned for you to hold while she left to talk to the other mothers. it didn’t take long for you to find it and you giggled when you came in contact with the cold metal. with a swift pull, you dangled the keys to your mom’s minivan in the air. 

“uh, yeah?” he cocked his head slightly.

“you got your license?”

in retrospect, felix never actually answered the question. he only said that it’d “been a while” since he was behind the wheel, but that didn’t stop you from suddenly leading the way to the honda odyssey with scratched on the rear from your practice driving from when you began doing so. maybe you should’ve caught on that he either never had his license or was warning you of how fucking bad of a driver he was. but you didn’t feel like getting in the driver’s seat in favour of controlling the aux, so you gave him that responsibility.

“let’s go for a drive. you got nowhere else to be, right?” it was probably a little cruel to guess that felix was not invited to the aforementioned beach party, but you’d already spoken the words. 

felix gave a mirror of your indifferent shrug and you grinned wider. 

“you know how i feel already about those guys. drinking cheap beer around a campfire isn’t really my idea of ‘having the time of our lives,’ yeah?” he replied. 

you weren’t sure what exactly took over and possessed you to basically steal your mom’s minivan with somebody you barely knew. maybe it was because of that feeling, the carefree feeling that zipped and danced through your veins like a breeze the last time you hung out with felix. it was unlike anything else you’d ever felt before.

a hint of hesitance painted over his face. “um, so where are we going?”

“you go out often?” the question was blunt, but you couldn’t help but ask, considering the surprise he wore when you invited him out after detention.

felix smiled bashfully. “no.” that was all he said, as the two of you made your way over to the old odyssey. “will your mom be okay with this?”

“huh? oh, hell no.” yet, you still unlocked the car with a click and gave an under hand throw of the keys to him.

the wash of uncertainty lingered on felix’s expression, as you opened the door to the passenger’s seat. then, he met your eyes and something shifted within his muscles and energy. warmth formed at the eye contact, gifting him with confidence to proceed. 

time was ticking and you knew that the two of you had to back out of the parking lot as quickly as possible, in order to remain unseen and undetected by your mother. you reiterated this to felix and suddenly, you were wishing that you didn’t.

“watch out!” you hissed, as felix reversed and almost ran over a former member of the hockey team. the said male began cussing at the car, which only prompted felix to get out of the parking lot in even more of a hurry.

swivelling and swerving around some stray individuals and other cars like a madman, it was a wonder that the two of you made it out and onto the street in one piece. it felt as though your heart dropped to the bottom of your stomach and was threatening to burst out of your throat. your breathing paused for the entire time. 

worse than a goddamned rollercoaster.

“oops?” was all felix had to say, as innocently as possible.

you allowed yourself to breathe, finally. the car was on the street and you were alive. hysteria bubbled at the back of your head and you began to giggle uncontrollably. felix looked over at your, eyebrows knitted together, before he, too, burst out into laughter. 

the car stopped at the first red light and you nodded at something in the distance. “straight ahead and then onto the highway.”

“where exactly am i going?” felix gave you a side eye, as you began fiddling with my phone. he glanced at it and raised an eyebrow, watching you scroll through your favourite early 2000s throwback playlist.

“take the exit for the beach.”

felix’s eyes nearly leapt out of his skull. “uh, are. . .are we gonna crash that party?”

you froze midway through your motions and began laughing once again, uncontrollably. but, felix didn’t react and you realized that he was being serious. you cleared your throat and paused.

“no,” you responded, in awe that he thought you were that rebellious. frankly, it wasn’t just that, but you were never going to carry those kind of guts. “screw that party. i know another cool spot on the beach, it’s kind of like my hideaway.”

and like that, felix shrugged and returned to his usual carefree demeanour. you thought about how much you dug that about him. then, you promptly shut that thought down because it came out of absolutely nowhere. plus, the two of you were still sitting in silence. not for long.

you turned on “ms jackson” by outkast and the two of you sung along to it. every. single. word. at some point, someone rolled down the windows and the wind began roaring in your ears and through your hair, but the only thing you could hear were your voice, straining to be heard at the top of your lungs. 

as the opening notes of “get ur freak on” began, you looked over to felix. the curiosity you felt must have been pronounced because he cocked an eyebrow at you. you continued staring at him.

“why are you here? you’re awfully trusting,” you chuckled, as you caught eye of the upcoming exit you were meant to take. 

he made the turn. “i’m bored. like you said, i don’t have anywhere else to go.” felix’s tone was light, but you felt bad about the comment. “plus, i’m the one behind the wheel. if anything, you’re the trusting one, putting me in this position.” you managed to snort at that.

“what, i’m not scary enough that i could be leading you to some crack house?”

felix smirked. “aren’t you the girl who volunteers before school hours to help the lunch ladies? the one who exclusively wore pink butterfly hair clips for two years straight? the one who wrote valentine cards for everyone in homeroom last year? the one with a pikachu—”

“okay, shut up. that doesn’t mean shit.” you scowled and he laughed at that. you didn’t realize that he noticed all of these little things about you, considering you’d barely spoken for four years straight and you tried to ignore the butterflies taking flight in your stomach as a result. 

he said, “senioritis really killed your soft side, huh?” 

“just a little,” you admitted. or maybe you were tired of being the good girl that everyone wanted you to be. something in you must’ve changed, like felix said, after ditching your long time friends and beginning to do things like skip class and warrant detentions. at this point, you were in way too deep and clearly, you no longer cared. high school was a chapter finished and you were perfectly okay with that.

the next song that drowned out your surroundings, just as the smell of sea salt filled your senses, was “we could be so good together” by the doors. the song was definitely not on this specific playlist as far as you knew, perhaps it was slipped in by accident when you were downloading your music. regardless, you kept it playing and you saw the way felix began drumming his fingers against the leather of the steering wheel.

“your influence, by the way,” you revealed and he smiled just a little brighter, if that was even possible. 

he said, “you remembered.” of course you remembered the way he lost himself in this band that day in detention on his stupid first generation ipod. how could you forget?

eventually, the beach emerged closer and closer in your line of sight. the traffic grew heavier, as the sound of trap music overcame the bluesy twangs of the doors. you rolled your eyes; the rest of the kids from your school had caught up.

“take the left here.”

“isn’t it a dead end?”

you shook your head no, they had long since expanded the street a few years ago. thankfully for you, the extended pedestrian way gave access to one of the best hidden gems in town. he didn’t argue and followed the direction.

felix turned up the music a little bit louder, even though you were now a little bit farther away from everyone else now. “i’d never thought i’d meet anyone as annoyed by everyone else at school until you.” 

“yeah—wait, turn onto this path there, don’t worry about the trees—aren’t we just quirky and different?” you snorted.

although it was still a path nonetheless, it was a little bit cramped for the heap that was your mom’s car. a wrinkle formed in between felix’s brows and you tried to relax the atmosphere by continuing to mindlessly sing to the music. he nervously hummed along. 

he blinked rapidly. "it looks like there’s no end. . .”

lush trees stood firmly on both sides of the path, dangling branches over in a wispy pose. sunlight weaved in and out of every open spot, creating a storm of sun on your surroundings. the taste of sea salt continued to dance in the air, though, dispelling any thought of suddenly finding yourself in a mystic forest. in the distance, underneath the voice of jim morrison, the sound of ocean waves commanded your ears. the car lurched up, tilting ever so slightly up to indicate the uphill drive. 

“why are you avoiding your parents?” felix asked out of nowhere, glancing at you and trying to not appear nervous at the path. 

“because today sucks. i don’t get the big deal.” you shrugged. “and honestly, i’m just a little bit overwhelmed.” your life had been moving in the fastlane for so long and upon the sudden closure, you ached for just a moment of relaxation. 

felix responded, with a thoughtful gaze to the distance. “yeah, i guess you’re right. same thing every year, just a new class of idiotic seniors forced out into the world on their own.”

eventually sunlight transformed from small dots leaking in from the weaves of branches and leafs into a full glaze from above. darkness disappeared and you were treated with a kiss of the bluest sky your eyes had ever laid eyes on. the tranquility came to an abrupt stop due to felix’s unpolished brake. he was in shock and that sacrificed your back because the two of you hurled forward in the sudden movement.

“sorry,” felix said, but neither of you chose to make a joke about his driving when this beautiful of a distraction presented itself in front of you.

the engine was killed and the music paused in one swift second. felix wanted to drink up his surroundings as much as he could. the two of you were perched on the top of a small hill, overlooking the rest of the beach from the height. even though you still remained on the same earth and balance as the people down there, it felt like you were far above. 

he managed to sputter out a low whistle. you grinned in response and hopped out of the car, trying your absolute best to refrain from stumbling in your heels. upon meeting the fresh air, you took a deep inhale.

“where the hell did you find out about this place?” felix looked around, eyes wide as he took in the view. 

you were not going to expose the fact that you were taken here the first time by a boy that wanted to hook up with you. he’d parked at the top of the hill, just as the two of you had just done moment before, hoping to get lucky before you swore at him and demanded that he brought you home. oh, freshman year. 

“i have my secrets,” you exchanged that embarrassing memory for what you hoped was a mysterious smile. “it really is beautiful, though, right? i feel like i’m on top of the world. the sky is clearer from up here and the ocean is, like, so goddamn blue. . .”

it was then when you remembered who you were with and your jaw snap shut after those words. 

he couldn’t know how blue the ocean was. felix probably wouldn’t have even noticed if it weren’t for your sudden reaction, but he only shook his head with a smile at your sheepishness. “it’s okay. don’t be embarrassed, people forget.” a lie, you guessed, as he’d mentioned so few people knew about his sight.

a weight of gloom settled at the pit of your stomach, but you pushed the feeling aside. he trusted you with the knowledge of his condition and you forgot to consider it. you bit your lip, raining down on the apologies, to which he just waved off. 

the male kicked a loose stone off the hill, watching it fly across the air and rocked into the deep, icy waters. “it’s really is beautiful, anyway. thanks for bringing me here.” 

“actually, you did the driving,” you grinned. “but, this isn’t all. you still trust me?” 

felix looked at you with a questioning regard and you took that as an answer. you had to swallow some fear down and the next thing you did surprised even you. you held out your hand and after a beat, he took it and intertwined your fingers with his.

his hand was warm and molded with yours to perfection. his skin was soft and pillowy, as if they’d been waiting for you for years to grasp. upon the grip, your hands became one and you wished to the clouds that you’d never have to let go. you took a glimpse of felix’s expression and you wondered if he felt the same way, trying to read the small small forming on his face and the light tint of pink glowing on his ears. 

then, you remembered what the hell you were doing and snapped out of your daydream. he locked the car for you and you led him down the hill, just a few feet back from where you were parked. there, you tugged him towards the smallest of entryways in between two trees, having to duck underneath some branches and step over some bushes to get through.

the path from there was clear, as shades of creamy corn coloured sand roughened up against your shoes and you dared to not sink into the ground with each step. it was one, steep trail that led straight into the land below, with waves just about stirring up against the sand. there was not much room to walk and you had to walk in front of felix for the two of you to fit. 

“hold on,” you said, as you wiggled out of your already dirty graduation gown, which you realized you should have abandoned at the car. you left to to lay on the ground, losing interest in it. 

felix gave you a once over. “that’s a nice dress.” did he just check you out? 

when you woke up that morning, almost afternoon, you were ill prepared for the day ahead of you. you jumped into the quickest shower of your life and nearly broke your fingers trying to braid your hair in record time. there was no room for daydreaming about what you were going to wear and you figured that it was going to be hidden underneath your graduation gown, anyway, so you grabbed the first thing in your closet, which was a yawn of an orange bridesmaid dress from a past wedding. it was a boring, floor-length with a sweetheart neckline and a semi-modest slit running up the leg. you’d ripped off the hideous bow on your way down the stairs, after not bothering with any makeup and from there, was hauled into the old minivan because you were already late. 

“what?” you laughed. “i hate this dress. i put on the first thing i saw and unfortunately, it was this abomination.” you thought your tone dripped with hatred, but felix didn’t look convinced. 

you climbed up onto some large rocks that marked the end of the path and tried to keep your balance. felix helped you steady yourself, hand still grasped in his and the other holding you by the waist. at that point, you’d also kicked off your nude pumps in favour of actually being able to stand. 

felix helped himself up on the rock, following your motions, and hopped over the rocks with you. you grabbed a handful of the tangerine fabric and pulled it up, at least caring enough to make sure that it didn’t get wet. the two of you landed together, just before a darkened entrance into a cave. the entry was concealed from the main beach, far too tucked away at the corner at every angle and only visible from hopping over the rocks.

“what colour is it?” 

the question was sudden and you gaped, as if you forgot how to speak. “huh?”

“your dress. what colour is it?” felix wasn’t even focused on the cave, his eyes still locked on you.

“it’s orange,” you told him. he nodded, his gaze not leaving, as if he were trying to memorize the sight. you frowned and put your free hand to his arm, beckoning him to continue following you. 

squeezing inside of the compact entryway, the two of you were introduced to the interior of the same golden sand that brushed against the waterline in a narrow opening at the very base of the cave. another gap was framed higher up, a bigger outlet that allowed most of the sunlight to stream in. 

“wow. just wow.” his hand squeezed yours just a little bit tighter, even there was no need to hold each other, now that you arrived at your destination.

you couldn’t help but notice the little things now. there were little fragments etched into the walls of different mineral colours, from the deep maroons and the slate greys and the rare navy blue. the small waves rushing in shone just a little bit differently depending on where you stood, just a little bit brighter or darker either way. even in the sand, there were bits of ivory for every handful of gold. they made the sight all the more gorgeous and felix couldn’t experience that. 

he noticed your sudden daze, staring off into the larger outlet and your mind miles away. that’s when you were hit with a wall of cold water, hand released from felix’s and your entire left side endured the splash. you gasped, whirling around to see him with an mischievous glint in his eyes. with the addition of a soaked arm sleeve.

“felix!” your jaw dropped and he responded with yet another splash. 

this escalated into a full on splashing match, until the two of you were completely soaked. your hair was dripping wet and felix’s sneakers were probably ruined. 

you also somehow also ended up tackling him to the ground.

that resulted in the unexpected position of being on top of him, as the two of you gasped to catch your breaths in between your hysterical bubbles of laughter. it took at least five minutes minimum before the two of you were able to inhale properly again. 

that didn’t mean you moved from your position, though. neither did he. felix wore a lazy smile and brushed a piece of wet hair out of your face.

“you ruined my dress. not so pretty now, huh?” you teased.

felix replied, “you said you hated it, i was just tryin’ to help you out.” he then paused for a moment, stumbling over his words. “plusimeantthatyoulookednice. notthedress.”

you weren’t sure if you were normal because you managed to actually understand his jumbled up words. you laughed off the blush heating up your cheeks and finally pulled yourself up, trying to hide it. sitting up, the two of you gazed up at the sky through the main gap in the wall. 

for the nth time that day, you decided to say “fuck it” and swallowed down your nerves. felix sat up, awkwardly running his hand through his grown out hair. he looked at you, seeing that it appeared as though you were struggling to say something.

“what’s wrong?”

you managed to choke it out. “can i kiss you?” some sort of monster, one that was definitely not you, had overcome your being because you were in shock that you actually just said that.

felix nodded without hesitation, which put you into even deeper of a shock. you didn’t even notice that you were already slowly leaning in and he, too, as he reached out to lightly touch your cheek as he did so. 

from a distance, the sound of music and laughter dallyed and with every passing second, a new wave of water rushed in. the smell of salt and summer lingered about. your orange dress was doused and at some point in the psudeo fight, your once tightly wound braids broke free into loose waves. none of it mattered when felix pressed his lips against yours. they were just as soft as his hands. 

[gumnut-logic]

When the World Goes Boom (Part three)

I have no idea where this fic is going...Okay, I’m lying, there is a glimmer of an idea, but then I started this fic for a specific reason which has now been blown out of the water, so what do I know? But anyway. here be the next bit :D

Apoilers & Warnings: Spoilers for season three, angstfest.

Many thanks to @scribbles97​ @onereyofstarlight​ @olliepig​ and @i-am-chidorixblossom​ for putting up with my crazy and for various readthroughs :D

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

-o-o-o-

Scott woke to the sound of singing.

It was ever so soft, but there was a beat that even he could gather. Of course, the foot tapping the floor helped.

Now when I was a little boy an’ so me mother told me, ‘Way haul away, we’ll haul away Joe! That if I didn’t kiss the gals me lips would all grow mouldy. ‘Way haul away, we’ll haul away Joe!

Scott blinked. It was half out of tune and peppered with sniggers. It bounced into an equally awkward second verse before he managed to crank open his eyes, but by the time he did, his brain had already supplied the information he needed.

Gordon stood with one foot on the floor and the other on the chair beside Alan’s bed, swinging an arm, and putting out an accent that died somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic a couple of hundred years ago. There was something about Ireland and kissing a girl named Daisy and a whole pile of half mumbled words that may have had something to do with sailing if they had been pronounced correctly.

Alan was giggling.

Scott blinked again and had to acknowledge the pain bouncing around his brain. An involuntary groan brought the apparent concert to a halt.

“Scotty, you with us?”

When he managed to open his eyes again, Gordon was close. Yet another blink and Scott realised that his little brother was wearing an eye patch.

“Wha-?”

“Huh? Oh.” Gordon flung off the patch and half grinned. “Just mucking around with Allie.”

Scott’s eyes closed for a minute and when they opened again, his brothers had multiplied and sprouted a father as well.

Virgil’s soft rumble of query was actually relaxing.

“Hey, Virg.” His throat was dry.

“How are you feeling?”

“Head hurts.”

“To be expected. You got pretty badly thrown around out there. What do you remember?”

Time paused a moment and then fragmented memory settled in. “Alan!”

A big hand held him down with a soft “Hey.” But it was echoed by a higher pitched voice.

“I’m okay, Scott. I’m here.”

Virgil shifted to the right and Scott’s eyes managed to focus on his little brother lying in bed, waving at him with one hand.

His thoughts were ever so sluggish, so it took him a moment to register the bandages.

“Alan, you’re hurt!”

“Er, yeah? Same explosion as you. Don’t you remember?”

Scott frowned and was suddenly aware of his three brothers and father staring at him in concern. His brain froze and he came up with nothing. “Uh, I don’t know.” God, his skull hurt. He reached up with a hand and held his head, closing his eyes. “Ergh.”

He was vaguely aware of Virgil speaking to someone and then he was nudged gently. “C’mon, Scooter, let’s get some painkillers into you.” He turned to find his brother offering him a little cup of pills and a glass of water. He struggled to sit up and his father moved in to help with kind grey eyes.

“Dad.” It was an exhalation of relief.

“Take your pills, son.”

A slow blink, but Scott Tracy was always an obedient child and old, old habits reasserted themselves. He took the pills and paid no attention to the upward curve of his younger brother’s lips.

Medication swallowed, his father let him relax back onto the bed and his body was ever grateful. He closed his eyes again.

When he opened them the room was dark, the only light from under the door and a soft glow on the other side of the room.

A tablet lit up his father’s face. “Dad?” It was little more than a whisper.

The glow flickered as the older man climbed to his feet and moved closer. “How are you feeling?”

A moment of thought and he realised there was less pain. It was still there, but muted. “Better? Got me on the good stuff?”

His father sat down beside him, and Scott realised the other bed was missing. “Alan?” He was embarrassed at how his voice waivered.

A hand touched his shoulder. “He is fine, Scott.”

“Where is he?” Why was he so panicked?

His father hesitated just enough to up that panic another notch. “Alan is having his dressings changed.”

“Dressings?” His voice was desperate and his heart started pounding.

The hand on his shoulder squeezed gently. “He is going to be okay, Scott. Calm down.”

“What aren’t you telling me?” What had happened to his littlest brother?

His father sighed. “Alan received burns on his right thigh and upper arm. They are serious, but are being treated.” Another squeeze. “He will be fine.” A pause. “Virgil is with him.”

An incoherent sound passed Scott’s lips. Burns. Burns were amongst his worst nightmares. His mind clawed at his memory, desperately digging for details that just weren’t there. “How?”

A grey frown. “You don’t remember?”

“No, I don’t! Will you please just tell me!” It came out as a frustrated yell. He felt out of control and he struggled to stabilise his emotions. It was like floundering in a current. His head pounded in protest.

“Scott. Breathe!”

Breathe.

He sucked air in between his teeth and the whimper that came with it hurt. What the hell was wrong with him?

Another breath.

Virgil was with Alan. Virgil would look after Alan when he couldn’t. “What happened?”

“There was an explosion during a space rescue. Both you and Alan were caught in it. You received a bad concussion which is why you are having trouble remembering. You need to give your body time to heal.”

“What about Alan?!” He was yelling again. His father’s lips thinned and Scott found himself resenting that expression. “Please just tell me.”

“I have told you several times already and each time you panic.”

“I don’t panic.” It was automatic and so obviously a lie, it hurt. As much as his heart thudding against the inside of his skull.

His father’s lips thinned even further, his expression painful. “Alan was closer. His suit protected him, but it reached its limits and in two places melted to his skin. Given the alternative was a suit breach, I have to say I’m grateful. He will be okay, son, I promise.” Those eyes were ever so dark in the dim light.

Scott swallowed hard and finally got a grip on the hysteria trying to crawl up his throat.

Two words.

“Where’s Grandma?”

-o-o-o-

Virgil grit his teeth and clung to his insides.

Alan was the bright brother he always was, quite happily discussing the latest release of his favourite video game with the male nurse who was also apparently an avid gamer. It was an advantage. Any distraction from the necessary procedures happening on his brother’s right arm was to be valued.

They had chosen to remove Alan from the room he shared with Scott for this procedure simply because every time Scott woke, his concern was for Alan, as if his mind was caught in a moment of terror it couldn’t quite remember. He would ask the same questions, scared for his little brother and then forget them again.

Virgil was worried sick.

But all the scans came back clean. The doctors suggested stress, emotional trauma and a need to watch and monitor. Consequently, they were all taking a rotational period of keeping the eldest company in case he woke yet again disoriented.

Dad hadn’t left his side beyond the few times Virgil and Grandma had ganged up on him.

In the meantime, there was Alan.

The burns were nasty and were going to need ongoing treatment. His little brother was grounded indefinitely.

Of course, the young astronaut’s opinion of that was to scoff at it and take it as a challenge. Typical Alan.

Hell, typical Tracy.

So, Virgil was watching him to make sure he didn’t do anything too fast or too stupid.

It was early days yet and his little brother still had skin graft operations ahead of him. It would be a long road. But apparently if Gordy could do it, Alan could too.

Gordon had been glued to Alan from the moment he stormed into the hospital room. The only reason he wasn’t here now was because of Grandma laying down the law and Virgil stepping in to kick his ass.

He couldn’t help but protect Gordon as well as Alan. His aquanaut brother had seen far too much of the interior of hospitals and had the psychological scars to match. If Virgil could protect him from them, he would as much as he could.

Besides, he had to be here for Alan.

He had to be.

It was ever so hard to see the astronaut as a grown adult. His little brother would always be the baby he wanted to protect, no matter his age. And in the absence of Scott, Virgil was it.

The angry red all up and down Alan’s torso where the heat had leached through his suit was painful to see, but it wasn’t the concern. It was the two patches where his suit had failed that were the biggest problem. The material had melted and fused with his skin and a nasty mix of heat and cold exposure burn had resulted. The doctors were being very careful.

Twice a day they had to change the dressings and remove any dead skin, apply medication and redress. It was a painful procedure despite the drugs they had his little brother on and it hurt to watch. Alan had been offered the nerve block that they had originally given him, but he had refused it.

Virgil planned on speaking to him about that. There was no need to suffer.

Each time Alan flinched, Virgil had to clench his own muscles to prevent his own body echoing the action.

He stood on Alan’s left side, surreptitiously holding his brother’s hand, while the nurse attended to his right side. The medic in him was watching like a hawk.

The rest of him was just hurting.

“Okay, Mr Tracy, that is that one done. How are you feeling?”

Alan swallowed and forced a grin. “I feel like challenging your character to a duel in revenge.” Virgil didn’t miss how pale Alan was and the slight tremor in his voice.

The young male nurse raised an eyebrow. “You can try, young sword master, but I will defend myself.”

“After dinner tonight, Lance server. I challenge you.”

“Hardly fair. You suffer from battle wounds.” The nurse covered up Alan’s arm and moved further down the bed and uncovered Alan’s right leg. The hand in Virgil’s tightened its grip.

“I shall handle my handicaps, dragonslayer. You take care of yours.” Forced joviality.

Virgil raised an eyebrow. Really?

The nurse eyed his brother, something in his eyes. “Very well, I will meet you on the Plains of Perseverance at eight pm.”

Alan snorted. “There you will meet your fate.”

The nurse smiled just a little and began gently unwrapping the old dressings from Alan’s thigh.

Alan’s hand gripped even harder.

Virgil grit his teeth and clung to his insides.

-o-o-o-

John Tracy hated the media. It was one of the few topics that could actually raise his hackles. Eos had compared him to a cat in the past due to the frustrated hiss that sometimes involuntarily escaped through his teeth when he had to tackle the nets and damage control.

He took it as his responsibility to take on the gossip and the tangle of incorrect facts that inevitably sprouted following every incident. He had the skill to track down sources and nip the erroneous information in the bud. Eos obliterated anything he couldn’t trace. In fact, she took great glee in the process.

Scott did not know exactly what happened on these little forays, and John was going to keep it that way.

Scott.

His stomach churned. He had never seen his big brother so emotionally out of control.

Focus.

He had launched a very specific virus this morning by uploading it to Five and accessing several crucial net nodes. It pulled date specific information on both his injured brothers with a subset data array of keywords related to the Tracy family. The results were fed to Eos who sorted it and alerted him of any major issues.

Currently the biggest major issue was Oxy-Baker.

They had reacted to the incident in defence, he had to give them that, but to accuse Scott of misconduct was above and beyond what he was willing to tolerate.

“Eos, calculate what we need to purchase Oxy-Baker.”

“As a potential investment or to bankrupt them?”

John sighed. “Part of me would prefer to wipe them off the face of the planet, but I do believe their services are necessary. They support air reclamation, the WURMs and they have taken over some of the marine reclamation as well. Gordon would have my hide if we trampled that.” Another sigh. “Potential investment and improvement. We’ll ask Brains about this one. There has to be better methods available. That air reclamation system was a death trap.” He poked his tablet. “Am I reading this list of investors correctly?”

“Your eyesight was excellent at your last medical exam.”

John muttered something in French.

“The accent doesn’t make that any more polite, John.”

“I wasn’t going for polite.”

Another muttered French word, this time with an Italian accent. The numbers added up. There was a vulnerability amongst several of the smaller investors, so a back up plan if necessary, but if he was honest with himself, there would be some extra satisfaction in tackling at least one of the major investors.

After all Francois Lemaire was due a kick in the pants.

-o-o-o-

End Part Three.