#i audibly snorted in the theatre

[theirloveisgross]

.

[fluffydavey]

For the couples promt: Not wanting to leave their embrace please!!

does this follow the prompt? who knows. please enjoy this brain rot thank you very much <3 || relationship prompts

They’re laying on the cold hard ground beneath them as they hide out in Medda’s theatre, nothing but a thin sheet Jack had managed to find with some props to keep them warm. Davey's limbs are sprawled across him, and he can feel Davey's breath against his neck.

It isn’t something grand or some huge gesture, but Jack doesn’t think Davey minds that much. He wishes he could give this beautiful boy laying with him the entire world - but that still wouldn’t be enough. Because Davey deserves so much more than life has thrown his way, but he goes with the punches and makes the best of every situation.

Davey’s always been the person who takes care of everyone but himself. He’s the boy who left school to take care and provide for his family, who teaches the younger newsies alongside Les how to read and how to do basic math; who does his absolute best to keep all of them out of trouble.

(“You’re fighting a losing battle here Dave,” he had told him once, but Davey had walked right up to Spot Conlon without an ounce of fear and managed to get Spot to talk through an issue between some of their newsies. Jack was ready to profess his love right then and there - he'd never seen someone hold their ground with her like Davey had.)

Davey, who within a day of meeting Jack, had not only helped plan and execute the strike of the century; but had stayed by his side throughout it all, to help Jack run the union as smoothly as possible. And he’s never heard the other boy complain throughout it all. Davey, the boy who's turned his life around for the better, probably doesn't see himself the way the rest of the world does.

If he could, Jack would sit with Davey in the theatre watching one of Medda's shows holding his hand, walk him home every night and kiss him goodnight on the streets. But they can't do that - people think there's something wrong with the way Jack feels for Davey. Sometimes, that thought terrifies him. It sticks with him when he reads headlines about arrests, and when he hears comments on the streets. If he allows it, the thought festers in his brain and Jack becomes terrified of a future where he isn't always standing by Davey's side.

But the moments like now, where Davey is obviously fighting sleep so he can stay awake with Jack, are enough to soothe his worries and his fears. Nothing is guaranteed, so why get so hung up about the future now? Especially when the most beautiful boy in all of New York - no, the world - is holding onto him as tight as he can.

"I can hear you thinking," Davey says, and Jack snorts. Of course, Davey is barely clinging to consciousness and still knows exactly how Jack's brain ticks.

"I'm just thinking about how lucky I am that I get to call you mine," he answers, his fingers curling around strands of Davey's hair. He practically feels Davey melt under his touch, and he kisses the top of the other boy's head.

"Oh?" Davey asks, and Jack can hear Davey's smile. "You are pretty lucky, actually."

"Yeah?" he asks, grinning widely.

"Sarah's told me she overheard a few of the girls at temple talking about me. Sounds like I'm pretty in demand right now," Davey says, and although the idea should make Jack insanely jealous, he just laughs.

"Well, I guess I better up my game if I want to keep you away from them, huh?" he asks, and Davey lifts his head. He's laughing as he leans in for a kiss. Jack savours the feeling of Davey's bottom lip between his own, a barely audible whine escaping the back of Davey's throat.

"I think that you have ruined me for anyone else," Davey says, as he pulls apart from Jack. Jack can hear just how earnest the other boy is, and he thinks that this is what true happiness feels like. It isn't a place like Santa Fe, it's being with the person he loves, in a sanctuary all of their own. He holds onto Davey tighter, unsure of what to say to that, and he lets himself take everything in.

Let the world go on around them, Jack wants to stay in this moment forever. Davey's limbs are tangled with his, and there is nowhere else in the world he'd rather be. It mightn't be the most grand of places, but he's pretty sure Davey wouldn't want anything more either, as long as they're together.

[megan0013]

@brookhaven13​

this is a cut scene from variables. i think, maybe, it was originally supposed to be part of chapter four? anyway. my wannabe outline took a left turn at some point and i doubt this scene will ever see the light of day, so... enjoy?

Mary Wang is an efficient gossip.

The whole school knows about Walter’s recent heartbreak and impending fatherhood by second period Wednesday afternoon, and it’s become impossible for him to turn a corner without a chorus of frenzied whispers or muffled giggles following him through the hallways. It’s frustrating and (though he knows it’s only adding fuel to the fire) has forced him to hole-up in his office in order to maintain his sanity. But he knows he can’t hide forever.

Which becomes clear around one o’clock when the caffeine from that morning’s venti coffee finally begins to wear off. His level of production has been steadily declining for an hour now and, after glancing at his watch, he miserably realizes he’s not going to get much else done without an energy boost. He’ll have to brave the corridors for caffeine.

The halls are empty as he dashes toward the Teacher’s Lounge and he’s just rounding the last corner when the sound of Miss Janeth’s overly-enthused voice meets his ears, “A baby! How wonderful!”

Shit. They’re talking about him. Should he retreat back to the safety of his well-fortified office? He glances at the clock at the end of the hall. No, the bell is going to ring any minute and he needs that coffee if he wants to get anything else done this afternoon.

“Little ones,” she continues, “they’re such a joy. Mine never fail to brighten my day.”

“Wait,” Coach Lawrence snorts incredulously from somewhere within the lounge, “you have kids?”

“Cats, silly.”

“Oh. Cats.” Walter can vividly picture Coach Lawrence nodding vigorously. “Yeah, that makes more sense.”

“As I was saying, babies are such a delight.” She takes a step back. “Señor Uhl, don’t you agree?”

There’s an audible sigh and then a flat, “Yes.”

“Marvelous!” Miss Janeth trills. “I’m sure everything will work out. Well, I must be off. The theatre waits for no one!”

Walter flattens himself against the wall as Miss Janeth backs out of the Teacher’s Lounge and heads in the opposite direction. He waits until she’s disappeared around a corner before slipping into the room. Señor Uhl is standing by the coffee maker, arms crossed and jaw set, while Coach Lawrence chuckles at the Spanish teacher’s obvious discomfort. Walter frowns and warily asks, “What was she on about?”

“She thinks we are having an affair.”

“What?”

“In her defense,” Lawrence supplies over the rim of his coffee cup, “everyone thinks the two of you are having an affair.”

“Makayla Livingston called me a homewrecker.” Uhl grimaces. “And you should see some of the dirty doodles I have confiscated.”

“What?”

“It’s your fault, really,” Lawrence says, leveling a look at Uhl. “You shouldn’t have made Mary read that note out loud in the middle of class yesterday. She’s vicious in her revenge. It’s why I like her.”

“This is…” Walter struggles for a word and, upon coming up empty, lets out a pathetic squawk of disbelief instead. Of all the random rumors he’d expected to encounter when word of his breakup got out, this hadn’t been one of them. And there are doodles?

“Ridiculous, yes.” Uhl snorts. “Like I’d be interested in you.”

Walter recovers from his shock just enough to sound insulted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re a history nerd.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway,” Lawrence interrupts pointedly as he puts his cup down on the table and leans forward with a conspiratorial gleam in his eye. “What did happen between you and Dr. Lake?”

[eggjorp]

Ch2 - Boxers or Briefs?

Main Masterlist

3AM Masterlist

Chapter 1 - Insomnia

Next

Notes: swearing, angst, comedy, 3k

You end up drifting off at around six and wake up to both your alarm blaring at half past eight and your head throbbing with a similar kind of ring. You get out of bed, sighing as you trudge to the bathroom, getting ready for class.

You swap your pyjama bottoms for jeans and throw a hoodie on top, grabbing the bag you carefully packed the night before (one of your few good habits) and a banana you stuff into your mouth as you leave. Once you arrive in class you silently sit next to your group of friends and grab the closest source of caffeine.

“Black coffee? Are you fucking with me? You’re such an old man oh my god!” you exclaim after taking a big gulp of the stolen coffee.

“Yet you’re still happily drinking it? Fuck off that’s mine, you kept me up late I need it!” Doyoung retorts.

“I didn’t do shit actually. If I remember correctly you told me to shut the fuck up and you went to bed. And you ignored me! A lot! I told you, I’m sensitive!” you pout as you hand him back his coffee. During this interaction the rest of your friends sit there in confusion, you don’t bother trying to explain, not enough energy.

“Okay did y’all fuck or what?” Jaehyun asks pointedly, and Johnny tuts at him for his explicitness. Instead of replying you wink at Jaehyun and ignore Doyoung’s disapproving glare. Jaehyun gasps dramatically, “Oh my god y’all really fucked? I thought you guys were like archenemies, but FINALLY!” his words catch the attention of the people sitting around but it doesn’t last long as he offers them his signature charming smile as an apology.

“We didn’t fuck, they texted me at three am and five am, calling me a bum and a poopyhead? They’re actually so immature. How you’re at such a prestigious university I’ll never understand. Perhaps you paid your way in? Fucked the dean of admissions?” he turns to you, quirking his eyebrow.

You give him a smirk, “Darling, you don’t need to worry about how eventful my sex life is. If I were you I’d worry about yours.” you poke, knowing full well Doyoung prioritises his studies over relationships. It is something you admire but you would never tell him that, god no, you would never give him the satisfaction.

“Should I be envious that your grades resemble your sex life? Full of Ds?” he snaps back, and you purse your lips to stop a snort, as you reach down to pull your laptop out of your bag and hide your face.

Before the lecture starts you reach your hand over Jaehyun to grab Doyoung’s coffee once more, finishing it with a quick gulp before smiling sweetly and dropping it into the bin beside you at the end of the row.

“That was uncalled for.” Doyoung’s jaw tenses and he glares at you. If eyes could kill, you would be dead ten times over by now. Nothing new though, you’ve grown immune to his stare considering how many times you’ve fallen victim to it. Annoying Doyoung is the highlight of your day—no, week— and has become part of your routine.

“Guess what?” you lean over the desk and beckon Doyoung to lean over and meet you in the middle. He stares at you blankly, refusing to move, and you roll your eyes, “Your face was uncalled for.” you grin, once more, before returning to your seat and focusing your attention on the start of the lecture.

“For fucks sake, the stubble in my armpits keeps stabbing me. It's so uncomfortable!” you rub at them, hoping to soothe the skin. Johnny laughs and Doyoung rolls his eyes. “I don’t think that’s information we needed to know.”

“Your face isn’t information we needed to know.” you bite back, sticking your tongue out at him,  watching his jaw tense and teeth grinding.

“You know, if you keep grinding your teeth like that, you’re gonna flatten them all. You’re gonna look like an old man with no teeth at the age of 25!” you snort, pointing your finger at him.

“I wouldn’t grind them if you didn’t stress me out so much!” he scoffs.

“I wouldn’t stress you out if you didn’t stress me out!” you immediately return. Johnny is laughing at you both for the entire duration of this conversation and inwardly you congratulate yourself for providing such brilliant entertainment.

“What the fuck do I do?” he asks as you three reach the McDonald’s, “You exist.” you deadpan, ignoring him as you walk past him to get into line. He rolls his eyes for about the twentieth time today and doesn’t respond. Doyoung decides it’s better to ignore you back.

“Johnny, Dongyoung, what do you guys want?” you ask.

“Umm, cheeseburger, fries, strawberry milkshake,” Johnny responds, followed by silence. You look expectantly at Doyoung.

“Hey? You big bum, what do you want?” you ask Doyoung, poking his side. He falters for a second, “Uh, Chicken nuggets, Large.”

You nod and turn to order, “But why?” you look back at him, confused, “Why are you ordering me food?”

This time it’s you who rolls their eyes, “Are you rejecting free food? Okay, I see how it is.”

“No, I’m not! Just wondering...” you ignore and order, telling them to sit down as you wait for your food. Once you return with the food you sit down, drinking your hot chocolate and munching on some chips.

“Yo, have you guys watched the new Pokémon movie yet?” Johnny asks. You shake your head.

“It’s probably gonna be shit. People go for the Pokémon, not the plot.” Doyoung pokes. “The plot is the Pokémon you dumbass,” you respond.

“Regardless of the plot or the Pokémon let’s go watch it!” Johnny suggests excitedly. Reluctantly you all make your way to the cinema, buying a large popcorn to share, and get your tickets for the movie.

“Hey, Doyoung?”

“What?”

“You’re an expired waffle.” The room may be dark, but you don’t need light to know that Doyoung was rolling his eyes.

“You’re a useless paperclip.” he retorts and at this, you gasp “Kim Dongyoung how fucking dare you.”

He smirks and feigns innocence, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You narrow your eyes at him and give his wrist a light slap, “You know exactly what I’m talking about! I used that insult and you said it was dumb and now you’re using it!”

Doyoung slaps your wrist back, “A dumb insult for a dumb person eh?” your mouth is wide open. You’re astounded that he dares give you this attitude, so you do what any normal person does— you grab a handful of popcorn and drop it down his shirt.

This, of course, causes Doyoung to yell and a little girl to stand up from her seat, turn around and say, “Excuse me can you please be quiet?” Doyoung grabs at your hand, still hovering over his shirt and you both politely apologise. Johnny is cracking up, as expected, and Doyoung is boiling with anger. You can practically see the steam tumbling out of his ears and the scowl across his face is clear in the light from the screen.

“You’re helping me get it off!” still with your hand in his grasp he stands up, pulling you along with him, and some popcorn falling to the floor with a crackle.

“What the fuck am I meant to do?” you whisper but he pays you no attention and urges you to walk down the stairs.  The audible crunch of the stray popcorn under your feet after every step makes you wince and Doyoung’s grip on your wrist remains tight. Reluctantly you follow him out of the theatre doors.

“You’re such a fucking child! Now I have popcorn stuck in my boxers, Y/N, my BOXERS!” he frantically pulls on his shirt, trying to rid himself of the small kernels.

“You seem more of a briefs guy to me...” you respond with a cheeky smile, attempting to keep the mood light-hearted.

“You’re going to pay for this!”

“Hey, I bought you McDonald's, didn’t I?”

“That doesn’t give you a free pass to shove popcorn down my shirt! What is it with you, seriously!” his irritation only heightens with your responses, allowing for some harsh words to fall from his mouth.

“Do you have any common sense at all? We’re trying to watch a movie for god’s sake, and you’re just playing around like an immature child! Can you not be sensible for one fucking moment?” you furrow your eyebrows while listening to him berate you.

“Alright there, Mr Kim, maybe you wanna slow down for a second? Go clean yourself up and take a breath.” you try to be the sensible adult he doesn’t think you can be and hold back with further insults.

“Oh great, now I seem like the bad guy,” he says, giving up in trying to rid himself of the popcorn remains.

“Don’t worry, we know in this situation you’re the adult and I’m the child you get to lecture.” You cross your arms and squint at him, struggling to hold in your own irritation.

“Your passive-aggressiveness is really subtle you know!” you take a step closer and tilt your head with a sweet smile, “Well I learnt from the best!”.

His jaw tenses and your eyes quickly flit to it before returning to his, “Seriously, stop grinding your teeth— but you don’t need to take my advice! Who in their right mind would listen to an immature child, right?”

You try to walk past him to go back into the theatre but Doyoung lightly grasps your forearm. “I didn’t mean what I said...”

You turn to look back, faces only centimetres away but eyes filled with spite, “Yes, you did. In your eyes I’m nothing but an irritating child, but you’re right so it’s fine.” you yank your arm away and re-enter the theatre, returning to your seat.

“Everything okay?” Johnny asks.

“Yep. He just got really pissed.”

“Oh, because of the popcorn?” Johnny offers you a sympathetic smile.

“Because I’m apparently immature and dumb and can’t be sensible.” you scoff.

“I mean, you did chuck popcorn down his shirt...”

“And he’s slipped ice down the back of mine? It’s mutual. Or at least I thought it was.” you sigh, frustrated that the day had to turn sour so quickly for no good reason.

You and Johnny end the conversation there, even when Doyoung returns. The extent of any other conversations consisting of the occasional comment about the movie. The movie ends, and you take your time getting up, stretching your limbs and yawning.

“That was actually a decent movie.” Johnny expresses.

“Yeah, it was okay, but I feel like it was more plot twist than plot,” you joke, both boys chuckle and hum in agreement but you pay no attention to Doyoung.

“Let’s go get sushi?” Johnny suggests. You groan in response “I’m a broke bitch and I bought us all McDonald’s earlier! Only if you pay?” you give Johnny a sweet smile, but he responds with a look of pity, “Hoe, I’m broke too...”

After exchanging a knowing look for a few moments, you both turn to Doyoung with that same sweet smile, and he knows exactly what you want.

“Ugh fine, but there’s a cap on how much you can spend!” he groans and begins walking ahead while you and Johnny cheer together.

Johnny links his arms with yours as you follow Doyoung to the restaurant, the time filled with absentminded chatter.

“Alright fellas, I need to go to the toilet, don’t kill each other while I’m away!” both you and your frenemy roll your eyes and ignore him, continuing to eat your meals.

After about thirty seconds Doyoung breaks the silence, “I’m sorry about earlier.” and while you would love to snap back with something rude and witty, you swallow your anger and echo his short apology.

Johnny comes back and, although you still aren’t speaking, he can sense the tension has dissipated and is content with the progress. A few more jokes and beers later you all end up outside of the restaurant, Johnny insisting he’s fine even though he keeps mixing up his home address with a bar nearby and you send him home by taxi, opting for a train as you’re not sure your bank account could take another hit.

As you and Doyoung live relatively close you take the same train home and so are walking to the same train station.

“Uh, can we stop here for a second? I need to get some things.” he pauses outside of a convenience store and you give him a small nod. A few minutes later he remerges with a white carrier bag in his hands.

The pair of you continue walking, breathing in the cold air, and he pulls out an item from the carrier bag, grasping your hand and placing the item in your palm, before closing your fist and giving it a tight squeeze.

“Drink this tea before bed, it’ll make you sleepy, there’s no caffeine.” you chuckle quietly at his gesture and tuck it inside your backpack.

“Why did you get me this?”

“I didn’t want to wake up to your dumb messages calling me a poopyhead,” he complains of fake annoyance.

The corners of your lips turn up slightly and you utter a soft “Thank you,” but that’s all until you get to the train station and make your way onto the train.

The lights are bright compared to the dark sky presented behind the dusty window. A few people are scattered along the carriage, a man in formal wear, a few students, an older woman, and some young men.

A stop in you hear a whisper in your ear,

“Actually, I do wear briefs but they’re all in the wash so I had to resort to boxers,” at first it startles you, not expecting the warm breath, but you smile and turn to look at him. Doyoung tries to suppress a smile and look straight ahead but as you continue to stare at him, laughing quietly, he can’t help but let a few noises escape. He then quickly buries his face in his hands and you both melt into a pile of giggles.

“I can still feel the popcorn scratching my chest,” he says in-between snorts, “You deserved it, to be honest,” you counter,

“You always say I deserved it!”

“That’s because you do!”

Your loud laughter gains the attention of the few people in the carriage and you begin shushing each other, it doesn’t make it any better, but you continue regardless.

A few seconds later Doyoung grabs at your hand and pulls you up, “Our stop!” dragging you along and he runs off the train. It takes you a few seconds to realise what’s happening but you’re already off the train, hearing the beeping signifying the doors are closing only moments before you leapt out. Doyoung stops suddenly and you crash into his side, unprepared for it.

“Woah there!” you grab onto his arm for stability, “I can’t believe we almost missed our stop,”

Doyoung laughs and starts walking towards the exit, “See, I’m so reliable. Unlike someone...”

You roll your eyes, “I almost got smushed by those doors, less reliable more lucky!”

He looks at you with fake offence, a hand on his chest in a mock upset, “You’re just rude that's what you are.”

“You’re just rude, that's what you are.” you imitate him with a high pitched voice, and he narrows his eyes at you before shoving your hand off his arm and speeding his walking up.

“Nooo! Doyoung! Don’t be mad!” he continues to walk away silently, and you speed up to match his tempo. You get to the crossing where you go separate ways, he continues without you and so you get his attention the only way you can.

“WE’LL TAKE THE HIGHWAY TO HEAVEN AND I CAN’T WAIT TO LOVE YOU ALL ALONE—” he runs after you and slams his hands over your mouth to stop your screeching, taking a few steps backwards due to the force of colliding. He lowers his hand slightly to your shoulder and places his other hand on your back to stop you both from falling.

You hold onto his jacket and laugh, and his head hangs low in shame, “I can’t believe you I really can’t. You’re insane, you know that right?” you continue to giggle and just nod in response. He shakes his head, but you can see the corners of his lips turning up, “I should’ve left you on that train when I had the chance.”

“Nooo,” you whine, “You can’t leave ME! I’m your BEST FRIEND!” he gives you a dirty look and you shift your attention to the other students passing by in a group, “Guys! I’m his best friend!” they just chuckle, and one yells “That’s nice!”

You turn back to Doyoung, who is groaning and embarrassed, “You’re not my best friend! We’re enemies, remember?” he widens his eyes and shakes his head at you, “That’s not what you were saying last night...” you trail off. He narrows his eyes again, “Last night you called me a poopy head and I told you to go to sleep...”

“Didn’t say I was your enemy though!”

“Didn’t say you were my best friend though!” he offers you another dirty look and you pout in response.

“Hey, Kim Dongyoung, don’t be mean!”

“I’m not! I’m—”

“BABY YOU A BAD GIRL WATCH YOUR MOUTH—” he pulls at your jacket to try and drag you home, “Shut up you’re gonna wake everyone up!”

You let him drag you, reluctantly, “No I won’t, I’m not even that loud!”

“We’ll take the highway to heaven,” you finish with a sulk.

“I swear to god you’re such a child!” he groans.

“Yeah, but I’m your child.” you retort and he looks at you in confusion,

“I’m not your dad?” you wink in response, knowing full well you’re not making any sense, and he lets go of your jacket, shoving you away, the playful atmosphere quickly being replaced by a cold one. You finally feel the cool breeze of the wind and there’s a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Why do you always do this Doyoung?” you’ve both stopped on the side of the road.

“Do what?” he asks, his expression showing irritation.

“We’re having fun messing about and then you get all cold and icy. Just like at the cinema.” you finally spill what’s been on your mind for a while now.

“I don’t! You put popcorn down my shirt, of course I was gonna react like that— if anything you took it too far!”

“That’s just how we play around is it not? You’ve done plenty of similar things. I honestly thought we were friends who joke around that they hate each other, but I guess not. I guess you really do hate me and you’re just not able to tolerate my bullshit anymore.” he furrows his eyebrows and opens his mouth to say something, but you don’t give him the chance.

“Goodbye, Doyoung.” you say before walking away, leaving him standing in the cold.

[dying-suffering-french-stalkers]

How is Ross both sadder AND funnier than either LoA or Seven Pillars?

[sunmoonandeddie]

i don’t need a roof

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3,496

summary: Bucky thinks he’s running out of time, and needs to make sure his girl knows she’s taken care.

warnings: Bad words, almost death

a/n:  So this was inspired by this song from Big Fish the Musical.  There are lyrics from the song in the dialogue.  Also, this is the brownstone they were talking about.  Also I’m so sorry if this hurts, but there is a happy ending.

Bucky was cold.  In all the time that you’d known him (three years and four months, actually), he’d never once been cold.  He’d always been your own personal space heater, even before the two of you started dating.

But as you held him in your arms, his head on your chest, you were struck with the fact that he was cold.

The HYDRA agents that were holding you had injected him with something a few days ago, some glowing liquid that made a weight appear in the pit of your stomach.  But you could only watch as they injected it into his bloodstream.  You were too weak to do anything, too weak to protect the love of your life.

When the agent holding you had let you go, letting your kneecaps hit the concrete floor with a thud, you’d rushed to him, holding him as close as you could.

You’d never seen him in so much physical pain.  The super soldier serum was trying it’s best to keep up with whatever he’d been injected with, but it was like it set his blood on fire.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered as you rocked him back and forth, your head resting on top of his.  You didn’t realize you were crying until you tasted the saltiness of your tears on your lips.  It was all your fault.  You were the reason that you two got captured, and had been held in this cell for at least a week.

At least they hadn’t separated you.  You would’ve gone absolutely feral if they had even tried that, not to mention what Bucky would have done.

“Agent Twelve, on your right!  Incoming!”

You turned to see a HYDRA agent with his knife in hand, ready to strike.  You waited for just a second for him to get close enough, before ducking and sweeping out his legs in the same motion, catching his own knife in your hand and shoving it into his throat.  “Got him,” you said, yanking the knife out with a wince.

The sound of someone choking on their own blood as they died was never one you could get used to.

This was supposed to be an in and out mission.  An hour or two, tops, with minimal fighting.

But your intel was wrong, and you’d been led into the trap.

It felt like with every agent you took down, two more appeared.  They kept multiplying, like bunnies.

“No, not like bunnies,” you mused to yourself as you fought off two more agents.  “I like bunnies.  These guys—”  You grunted as you wrapped your legs around one of the guy’s heads, squeezing and twisting just as Natasha taught you to do.  “These guys are fuckin’ rats!”

You could hear Bucky snorting on the commlink, and spotted him shaking his head in amusement as he took down three separate agents at once across the airfield you two were currently fighting on.

God, your man was fucking hot.

An entire year, eleven months, and twenty-four days together, and he still made you sweat like a teenager going through puberty anytime you saw him.

Which reminded you.  You had your two-year anniversary in, like, six days.  You knew that he definitely had something special planned, the secret romantic that he was.  Fuck, you needed something to do for him.  Despite the fact that he always said you didn’t have to, you wanted to.  You wanted to make your man feel just as special as he made you feel.

Flowers.  You could start with flowers.  People were always so surprised to find that your boyfriend loved flowers, but he did.  It was sweet.  His absolute favorites were pink begonias, since they reminded him of his mother’s garden.  Well, the flower box she kept on the window sill, since they didn’t have the space or money for a full garden.

What else?  You couldn’t just get him flowers.  Two years was a big deal!  Especially considering the kind of people you two were!  The both of you were stubborn as an ox and lacked communication skills.  You were both used to doing things on your own, and dealing with issues without asking for help.

But that doesn’t work in a relationship.

You knew a lot of people thought you wouldn’t make it a month, and they were almost right since you two had your first fight at three weeks and a day, but then something happened.

Bucky stopped in the middle of the fight, running his fingers through his hair with a sigh came from his bones, and said, “I’m not doing this.  I love you too much to let something as stupid as this ruin us.”

It had been the first time he’d said ‘I love you.’

And you hadn’t heard him at first and kept yelling, before abruptly stopping and staring at him like he’d grown two heads.  “I’m sorry.  What?  You…  You love me?”

And he’d simply nodded, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I…  I love you, too,” you said, clearing your throat as you shuffled your feet.

After that, you two decided to go see Donna, a couple’s therapist.  You were both already going to therapy separately, but going together was an entirely new ball game.

And it worked.  Sure, it wasn’t always smooth sailing, but it wasn’t like you were screaming and shouting at each other.  You handled your problems like a team, because that’s what you were.

You could always get one of those little USO showgirl uniforms…  As much as you hated Amazon, their Prime feature really was a godsend for times like these.

Or maybe you could pay a shit ton of money for someone to make it in five days or less, since you had money now.  It’d be worth it, and there were thousands upon thousands of costume designers and seamstresses in New York City, the world capital of theatre.

And you still had that red lingerie he loved so much that you could wear underneath it…

“TWELVE!”

You shook yourself out of your daze just in time for a HYDRA agent to plunge a needle into your neck, black quickly overtaking your vision as you passed out.

“I’m so sorry,” you gasped out as you held Bucky that much closer.  It hadn’t been hard for you to connect the dots once you’d woken up in the tiny concrete room, a steel door being the only way out.  Bucky had been captured because he’d been trying to save your ass.

He grunted as he moved, his eyes squeezing shut in pain.  “It ain’t your fault, baby doll,” he said, his hand grasping onto your forearm.  “Stop blaming yourself.”  He leaned his head slightly to the side so he could look at you, reaching up to wipe your tears.  “Wipe that frown off your pretty face.  ‘M right here.”

“Yeah, but—”  You were cut off by him placing a finger over your mouth.

He took a deep breath before he spoke, his face pale.  “Now, baby doll…  I need you to listen real good, okay?”  He waited for you to squeeze his hand in confirmation.  “There’s a brownstone at 154 Hicks Street, Brooklyn,” he said, wincing with the effort it took to talk.  “Now, I know it’s in Brooklyn, and you love Manhattan, but—”

Brows furrowed, you cupped his cheek in your hand.  “Brooklyn is just fine, but what are you talking about?”

You could visibly see the cogs turning in his head as he carefully chose his words.  “I already paid for it in full, so no need to worry about that.  Sam knows where the keys are.  And—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” you said, cutting him off.  “Why are you talking like this?”

His flesh hand reached up and cupped your chin, his thumb running over your bottom lip.  “You always said you’ve never had a home, but you wouldn’t mind having one with me,” he said, his voice barely audible.  “So I got you one.  It’s got a garden and everything, so you can plant flowers and... and a peach tree.  ‘Cause I know just how much you like peaches.”

“Then stop talking about Sam knowing where the keys are,” you chided.  “You can show me the garden yourself.”  You knew where he was going with this, but you didn’t want him to.  You didn’t want him to say it, because then that might make it real.

“Baby doll, I don’t think I’m gonna make it out of here,” he said as gently as possible, his voice cracking.  “So you gotta listen to me.  It’s all paid for.  Every penny.  The papers are in my desk in our room, the second drawer from the top.”  He took in a shaky breath, trying to hide the pain.  “There’s a ring there, too.  It’s yours, but I thought you might wanna live together for at least six months before I popped the question on ya.”

“Stop it,” you said, leaning your forehead against his.  “You can propose whenever you want, but you gotta stop talking like that.”  Your nose nudged against his as you tried to hold back a fresh wave of tears, though you were quickly finding that was impossible.  “Stop talking like you’re not getting out of here, too.  We’re gonna make it out of here, okay?  And then you can show me the brownstone with the garden in Brooklyn.  So stop talking like you’re going to die because you’re not.”

“My stubborn girl,” he said with a weak laugh, his smile watery.  “I got you a home.  For our two year anniversary, which...”  His brows furrowed, his head cocking to the side a little.  “I think it was four days ago?”

Sniffling, you grabbed his face a little tighter, leaning back so you could look in his eyes.�� “Don’t you get it?  You’re my home.”  Letting out a huff, you wiped a tear from his face.  “In your face, I see a lifetime.  In this place…”  You pressed your hand to his heart, feeling the slow but steady beat under your palm, through his thin white undershirt.  “I feel at ease.”

He looked at you like he wanted to interject, but didn’t, his lower lip caught between his teeth.

“Wallpaper peeling, paint wearing thin,” you said, teasing him a little about his age like you always did.  “Here’s where I end and begin.”  In his eyes, you could see all the trouble of his past, swirling in those brilliant blue depths.  “I don’t need a roof to say, ‘I’m covered.’  I don’t need a roof to know I’m home.”  You curled up on his chest, right where your hand had been.  It was much nicer to be able to hear it as well as feel it.  If you closed your eyes, you could imagine you were in your bed at the Tower, going to bed together like any other night.  “There could be a single shingle dangling overhead.  I don’t need a roof to make my bed.”  Fingers running up and down his flesh arm, you tried to get him to relax.  “Close your eyes, I’m still beside you.  No goodbyes needed today.”

Thunder cracked outside, and if you listened close enough, you could hear the soft pitter patter on the roof.  His breathing was starting to even out, and you didn’t know if it was because he was calming down or if he was actually starting to go.

“Hear what the rain says, know what it knows.  After the rain, something grows.”  Your fingers intertwined with his as tears ran slowly down your cheeks, and you squeezed softly.  His metal arm wrapped around your waist, holding you between his legs.  “I don’t need a roof to say, ‘I love you.’  I don’t need a roof to call you mine.”

If you got out of this, you were retiring, and you’d make him retire, too.  You wanted to live a life with him without worrying about possibly dying before you got a chance to see him go gray.

If you had children, you wanted to be alive to see them grow up.

You’d give up being an agent.  You’d become just a consultant, or you’d give that up, too.  You didn’t care.  You’d just be Mrs. Barnes for the rest of your life, and you’d be perfectly happy with that.

“I don’t need adventure in some far away frontier.  I don’t need a roof to feel you near,” you said, starting to get choked up.

He was definitely fading.  His vibranium arm around your waist was starting to go limp, his grip on your hand loosening.

A lump formed in your throat as you clutched onto him that much tighter.  “All I need is you and you forever.  All I feel is true and absolute.”  You leaned back, holding his face in your hand.

His blue eyes fluttered open as he tried to stay awake for you, tried to fight the darkness overcoming him.

Your lower lip wobbled as you ran your thumb over a cut on his cheek bone.  “I don’t need a legal deed to help me play my part.  I don’t need a roof to hold my heart.”  You leaned in and pressed your lips to his.  “Stay with me,” you whispered against his lips, desperately.  You could taste the mix of your tears and his.  “Stay with me.”

But god, he was in so much pain.  You could see it in his face, feel it in the way his grip on your hand readjusted, like it was taking up all of his energy just to hold on.

It probably was.

Swallowing down the sob that was threatening to come out, you said, “It’s okay, Bucky.  It’s okay.  I’m here.”  You pulled his head to your chest, so he could hear your heartbeat in return.  Your fingers worked their way through his tangled hair.  “You’re my home, Bucky.  It’s you.  Please, stay with me.”  But you knew he was close to the end, and the likelihood of him making it out of there was getting smaller and smaller with each passing second.  “I’m here, love.  I’m here.”

Your mouth opened in a silent sob as you felt him go still, your nails unintentionally digging into his arms.  Small puffs of air were still coming from his nose, but his heart was maybe going at five beats per minute, if that.  Your body shook as you rocked him back and forth, unable to let go.

The love of your life was leaving you.  You were feeling him slip away in your arms.

“Bucky?” You whispered, almost afraid to speak at all.  “Baby?  Bucky, please…  Please, stay with me.”  Your voice cracked as you buried your face in his greasy hair.

You didn’t want a brownstone or a ring if you didn’t have Bucky.  You didn’t want anything if you didn’t have him.

You squeezed your eyes shut, kissing his hair.  “I love you.  I love you.  Please, Bucky.  Please.”

The faint sound of footsteps approaching the door made you raise your head, and you steeled yourself, ready to fight back against the HYDRA agents that had no doubt been watching the two of you.  The monsters were just waiting for him to die, and then they were going to take him from you.

Not if you had anything to say about it.

You tightened your grip around him, not bothering to hide your tears.  There was no point.  A lack of tears wouldn’t help you.

The footsteps stopped outside the door, and there was a pause.

Then it blasted open with a bang that startled both you and Bucky, who’s heart rate picked up just a little bit at the sound.

You cried out with relief as you saw Tony standing there in his full Iron Man suit.  “TONY, HELP HIM, PLEASE!” You begged, urging him to take Bucky from your arms.  “HELP HIM!”  Sobs wracked your body as the man nodded, taking him without hesitation, and getting out of there.

Despite their past, Tony loved you, and had learned to love the super soldier by extension.

You sat on your knees, your forehead resting against the ground.  “Please, please, save him,” you cried, your nails dragging painfully against the concrete floor.  Your heart was in absolute shreds.

You had no idea who you were praying to, or even if you were praying at all.  You didn’t know if he could be saved at this point, but you were willing to ask every deity you could think of.

“Twelve?  Twelve, come on.”

Strong hands gently pulled you up, and you found Natasha guiding you towards the door.  “You have to help him, Natasha,” you croaked, dazed and stumbling over your own two feet as you walked forward.  “You have to save him.”

“I know,” she said quietly, her own voice thick with tears as she held you up, making sure you didn’t collapse in the middle of a HYDRA base.  “We’re gonna try, okay?  It’ll all be okay.”

You weren’t able to go to the brownstone with the garden in Brooklyn for three weeks.

You couldn’t leave Bucky’s side.

Tony had gotten him to New York City in record time, and had immediately thrown him into Doctor Cho’s cradle.

He was in there for thirteen days straight as his body fought the new serum, the cradle being the only thing keeping him alive.  It kept his heart and other organs working, his brain functioning.

After two days of you sitting in a chair by the cradle, unable to do anything else but wait, someone wheeled in a hospital bed for you to sleep on.  You’d actually been asleep when he woke up.

And then, when you finally did wake up, the first thing he said to you, his voice muffled by the glass, was, “How long has it been since you showered?  You smell worse than Sam after the gym.”

The absolute asshole.  He almost died and he had the nerve to get onto you about how much you smelled.

It had taken everything in you not to throw yourself at him.  You scrambled off the bed, clinging to the side of the cradle as you looked down at him, frantically hitting the button to get the lid off.  “Bucky,” you said, reaching down to touch his face.  You almost pulled it back, afraid that if you touched him, he’d disappear.

But he simply pushed himself up onto his elbows with a wince, leaning his face into your hand.

“You almost died,” you said, letting out a weak laugh as you rested your chin on the edge of the cradle.

He looked up at you then, his blue eyes just as bright as they always had been, even if they looked a little pained at seeing you such a wreck.  “We’re gonna have to talk to Donna about that, huh?”

A little over a week later, and he was cleared to go home with you.  He was still weak—that serum did take a lot out of him—but he was alive.  And according to every single doctor Tony brought in, there was no chance of him just dropping dead now.

And if they were wrong about that, they’d have you to deal with.  And they all knew that the new Mrs. Barnes was no one to trifle with.

“You got it, baby doll?” Bucky asked as he followed you up the front steps.  He had to take it easy, and you told him that he should consider getting a cane since it was still a little difficult for him to walk.

You were only half kidding about that, though.  They still didn’t know if he still had the original super soldier serum in him after what HYDRA had done, but he was slowly gaining his strength back.  Either way, you didn’t care.  You’d love him with or without his super strength.

“Yeah, I got it,” you said as you slid the shiny gold key into the lock, turning it and opening the door.

The U-Haul truck was sitting on the street, waiting for you two to carry all of your boxes in, but that could wait.

You walked into the front foyer, taking in a deep breath.  It was completely bare, but the furniture that you two had ordered while sitting in his hospital room together was in the U-Haul as well, ready to be arranged.  Sun was streaming in through the large windows, giving a warmth to the house that you couldn’t find at Tower.

“Welcome home, baby doll,” Bucky said as he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.  His chin rested on your shoulder, and he pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek.

Your eyes pricked with tears as your hands grasped his forearms, making sure he was there with you.  A large diamond ring glittered in the late morning light on your left hand.  “Welcome home, Bucky.”

[liujinhee]

[ Kyuhyun/Reader ]

plotting an us (working title)

Word Count: 2,622

Summary: Art student y/n, theatre student Kyuhyun one shot

Uh, so this was supposed to be a y/n fic, but I think I gave the character so much personality that they qualify better as an OC? Haha... im sorry guys :')

-

There was little use in trying to reason with yourself why you travel two hours every weekend to the Penguin Ice cafe. Cafe menus were unreasonably expensive, and Penguin Ice was located in the heart of the city, where the population was far too saturated for your liking.

Then you hear the familiar voice saying the words Welcome to Penguin Ice cafe, and you know you'll be coming back next weekend regardless.

You walk straight up to the counter—even if you had a crush on one of the part timers, it didn't mean your judgement was clouded enough that you'd drop by during rush hour just to see him. At 4pm, the cafe was quiet, a few patrons scattered in different corners.

When Kyuhyun's gaze falls on you, his professional smile softens into one you now recognize as warm. “Single scoop of matcha and vanilla with sprinkled topping, having here?”

“Got it in one.” You return the smile, hoping it isn't too wide. The way your feelings tend to write themselves on your facial features has never done more good than harm thus far. Digging into your pocket, you hand him the bill; never the exact amount, if only for the selfish reason of wanting him to drop the change onto your open palm.

And he does. “Here's your change,” Kyuhyun sings in that merry tune you know by heart.

“Someone's in a good mood.”

He makes a show of scanning the bar, which currently only has him manning it, before leaning forward. He's not close enough that you feel his breath, but still close enough that your heart rate picks up as he tells you in a hushed whisper that fails to contain his glee, “It's payday.”

You snort at that, even though you already had your suspicions. Kyuhyun simply gives you a cheeky grin and wags his brows, seemingly pleased to have shared that little tidbit. Your hand twitches with the instinct to reach out and ruffle his hair, something you're not quite able to do to someone you can barely call an acquaintance. So you settle for a Congratulations, to which he bows dramatically, My heartfelt thanks, before twirling away to prepare your order.

He may be majoring in theatre, you think. Or at the very least, hold an interest in it. It's not the first time the two of you have exchanged words in such a manner, nor do you believe it'd be the last. As you watch him drop a generous scoop of ice cream into a cup, you wonder if you should ask him today. Something like, What school are you from? What's your favorite ice cream flavor? Do you want to catch the next musical that comes?

But they all feel like questions that'd make your existing dynamic awkward. In a way, you already consider Kyuhyun a friend, despite not knowing anything about him other than his name, which you got from his name tag, and that he only works on weekends, which is written on their blackboard under the Shifts section. 

Once again, you spend too much time overthinking, and your order is ready before you come to a decision, Kyuhyun extending the cup to you with a gentle hum. Your mumble of thanks matches the tone of his hum, and your feet bring you to your usual seat, empty as it always is. Customers aren't the biggest fans of seats by the entrance, after all; the constant opening and closing of the door can get annoying. It doesn't bother you, however. As much as you dislike crowds, you find comfort in the buzzing of human activity.

And, well, if the seat provides you a good view of the bar where Kyuhyun busies himself with cleaning up, that's just a really big bonus. Once you're satisfied with the angle of your chair, you bring out your pencil and sketchbook, flip to a fresh page, and begin sketching.

It's not always Kyuhyun. Scenery fascinates you, and you've long since lost count of the cityscape, the parks, the rivers that you've drawn from memory and imagination. But it's always when the imagination starts that Kyuhyun joins, somehow making his way into the scenery.

This time, you’ve sketched him barefoot by the beach, laughing as he splashes seawater up a silhouette with his foot. It’s an imagery that comes easily to you; Kyuhyun with his friends out having fun together. He seems like the type of person who is able to get along with everyone, and you're near certain he is.

You scribble down the date and your signature like you do on every piece of art, leaving out your name. The ripping of the page is quiet, barely audible over the music; the edges of the paper imperfect, but they always are. 

As you rest the paper under the now empty cup, you can't help but imagine how Kyuhyun would react to the sketch this week. He hasn't shared his thoughts on your sketches since that first time nearly three months ago, when you'd come to Penguin Ice with your friends for a birthday celebration.

I like the way you sketch, Kyuhyun had told you as he served the tray of sundaes ordered by your table. Art student?

Yeah, you'd answered after a moment of shock, watching how the man's eye was trained on the lines of your sketch. Understanding that it was genuine praise. Your eyes had fallen to his askewed name tag, committing his name to memory. And, um, thanks. He'd tipped his head in acknowledgement, set down your orders, and returned to his post.

Looking back, it might've seemed like nothing. But to the you back then who had been dealing with self doubt, the words of a stranger had been everything you needed to hear and more. While your friends chit chatted and ate, you'd done up a quick sketch of the cafe, and left it on the table with a short thank you note addressed to Cho Kyuhyun.

The next time you'd come, it had been because another friend was curious after seeing your post about the cafe before. Even then it had been Kyuhyun who took one look at you and went, Ah, the art student! Right? The memory of that moment still makes you chuckle now. It's in his recognition that Kyuhyun started becoming more than a part timer at a cafe in the city for you.

Now, as you wait for Kyuhyun to turn away and busy himself with cleaning before sneaking out of the cafe like a protagonist in a cliche romance drama, you wonder if this plot will ever advance, or if this is but a draft that will not live to see a happy ending.

It doesn't really serve as a surprise when you come across Kyuhyun at a local arts festival you are a participant of. You've thought about it, the what if. What does surprise you, is how you come across him.

There's an event pamphlet, of course, but you're also not the type of person who focuses on details like the musical cast names. It's not like any of them would ring a bell, since they're students. Except one of them does. You don't connect the dots at first, too tired from hours of live sketch after live sketch for customers. Then you hear it, his My heartfelt thanks, and the thought is formed.

Can it be? You reach into your back pocket for the pamphlet and flip to the musical lineup for today. Sure enough, printed in bold is the name Cho Kyuhyun along with a photo of him. Gods, does he look cute in casual wear. You're staring hard at his photo when he rips your attention back to him with his vocals.

While you wouldn't go as far as to call yourself a theatre enthusiast, it's not like you haven't been to musicals. You have, and you enjoy them when you do. Paid hundreds of bucks for a good three straight hour sitting of a show that'd live in your memories for decades to come. And when Kyuhyun sings, goosebumps rising along your arm midway through the first line, you know that's the kind of level he'd belong on in the near future. That's how good he is.

You're in awe, then you're in wonder, and then maybe, just maybe, you're falling in love with the theatre student and part time ice cream man Cho Kyuhyun. The sudden realisation startles you, but you accept it just as quickly. Little as you may know, it's enough for you to have developed feelings for him, and you feel it growing stronger every passing second in your mind. Your fingers itch with the need to capture this moment forever in the form of a painting.

Then the musical comes to an end, the cast coming together, hands joined as they bow their thanks while the audience reciprocates with thundering applause. Your eyes are still on Kyuhyun as the curtain falls, but you're certain he hasn't seen you in the dark. Nor would he know or have reason to be looking out for you.

You're out the moment you're able, zigzagging through the night crowd back to your post in a rush. It's not that you're late to return, nor will your neighbor mind even if you were. You simply need to pick up a pencil right now and bring to life the visuals buzzing in your head. It's been a while since you've felt this adrenaline rush under your skin. 

This is going to be a masterpiece.

-

You drown yourself in the canvas, skipping your weekly visit to the Penguin Ice cafe for the first time. There's only one reason for it: you don't want to override the memory of seeing Kyuhyun on the stage. A side you've never seen before, a temporary skin he wears so well one may be fooled into thinking it is his own.

There's a moment when you wonder if you'll ever finish the painting—each time you think you're quite about done, the paint setting for the last time, there's something new to add or to revise. You want to make it perfect, but in art, nothing ever is. Still, it is through willpower that you drop the brush for good, stepping back to take a good look at your painting.

It's… well, there’s no other way to say it: it's the man you saw on stage that night. It’s as close to what you wanted to express as you think it can get. The desire, the urge to convey your admiration for Kyuhyun grows overwhelming, and you rush to hold down on the power button of your phone. It’s 7:12pm on a Sunday. Which means there’s a good chance Kyuhyun will be there. They close at 10pm on weekends… can you make it?

It's worth the risk, you decide. You've got to be stupid at least once in your life (or many, but that's not how the saying goes, see). You wrap up the canvas carefully, yelling to your parents that they don't need to buy your share for dinner later, and rush out the second you feel presentable enough for public appearances.

Kyuhyun stares at you unblinking, and you do the same. It's easy to get lost in the reflection you see in them—and he blinks, light returning to his eyes.

“Hey,” he greets, but behind it you sense the question.

“Hey,” you return between pants.

“We're closing,” he says slowly, as if you can't tell from the flipped chairs and cluttering of washed utensils, “But if you're okay with on the go, I can bring out the tubs.”

You shake your head wildly before Kyuhyun can go grab said tubs. “That's not why I'm here.”

When you don't elaborate, he nods once and prompts, “Okay… So you're here to…”

“Pass you something. I can wait till you're off work. If you don't mind, I mean.” You're babbling, and you just know your face is a deep shade of red from nerves and embarrassment. To his credit, Kyuhyun doesn't judge despite his wrinkled brows, and gestures in the direction of your usual seat. So that's where you head. And you wait, your mind too crowded and thoughts so jumbled that you blank out until someone taps you on the shoulder.

“I'm done here,” he says, but now your brain short-circuits for a different reason. Kyuhyun in a plain t-shirt and shorts with a bag slinging across one shoulder shouldn't be anything worth ogling over, but it is. Even more so than the photo you'd seen on the pamphlet. You struggle to remember how to string words together and give him an answer, digging into your backpack for the thing you're here to hand him but can't quite remember what.

Then your fingers brush against the cloth holding your canvas, and you're reminded of your purpose. Right. With your heart slamming against your chest, you carefully pull out the painting you spent a week on, all while watching for any changes in Kyuhyun's expression. He has that cute frown that suggests he's confused, and you bite back a smile as you extend the canvas in an offering.

“For me?” 

The laugh breaks free from you as he accepts it with a cautiousness you've never seen. “

“Is there… something here?” He wonders aloud, gesturing between the two of you. His question is innocent enough, but then you see the way he's nibbling on his lower lip, the way he's peeking at you from under his long lashes—why are they so long anyway, you briefly wonder.

“An empty space,” you quirk, still somewhat afraid to take the leap, but unwilling to leave his question hanging in the air. 

Kyuhyun is instantly right by your side, the sleeves of your t-shirts brushing against each other, his body heat radiating off him this close. You feel yourself stiffen before you relax, easily growing used to this new lack of distance.

“So that's fixed,” Kyuhyun says after four beats of silence. “Anything else?”

“Hmm,” you hum to stall time as you think of other quirky answers to give, but it seems that isn't something Kyuhyun is willing to take a second time. His steps grow wider as he makes to stand in your way, forcing you to look up at him. He isn't exactly tall per say, perhaps a 1.8, but you're simply leaning toward the other end of the spectrum. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

He smiles, small and shy and hopeful. “It'd be really embarrassing if I'm reading this wrong, but are you interested in me the same way I'm interested in you?”

And now it's you who's worrying your lower lip, question after question clogging up your mind about all the things you can say that will ruin any possibility of the two of you—Then you look at Kyuhyun again, and realise the man’s likely feeling the same, to some extent.

Licking your dry lips, you decide to go for it. “If by that you mean—” you swallow before you're sent into a coughing fit because of your salivary glands, “—The I want to hold your hand on a date kind of interested… then yes.”

“Who said anything about dating?” he teases, and before your brain even registers the words for you to feel disappointed, he continues, “I think we should start with self introductions first, shouldn't we? After all, I still don't know your name.”

“Okay then.” Kyuhyun clears his throat, his posture tall and grand before he gives a graceful bow, hand extended. “Would you do me the honor of exploring the potentials in this budding relationship?”

It seems like the plot is moving forward, after all.

[naruhoedoe]

Prompt Generator

"Hey, hey, Herr Forehead!" Klavier called from the communal room, a laptop resting on his lap. "Check what I found!" Apollo's weird hair antennae popped out before his face did from behind a wall.

"Mm?"

"An online generator thing," he referred to the site open. The younger man approached to get a closer look. "You can put in two names and it'll make up some sorta situation between them!"

"Sounds...interesting?" Apollo didn't seem to get why the prosecutor was so eager to show him it. "Um, how does it work, exactly...?"

"There're spaces where you can type in names," the blonde man pointed to two bubbles labeled 'Person A' and 'Person B,' "and I guess it does some fancy computer stuff to write the prompt."

"Alright, and...why'd you show me this?"

"Let's put our names in together!" Klavier proposed with a grin. "It'd be fun, ja, Herr Forehead?"

"I suppose...I'm just worried what they might do with that information..." the attorney placed his hands on his hips.

"It's just your first name," Klavier consoled with a roll of his eyes. "There are countless people named Apollo--like the god."

"That's a fictional character."

"Ach, but my point still stands." He gave the former a smirk before quickly putting in he and Apollo's names. "Aaand, click, baby!" Klavier clicked the 'generate' button.

"What's it say?" Justice questioned, looking at the text. "Imagine it's Klavier's birthday. Klavier's friends throw a party and decide to hire a stripper, Ap......oll...." his voice quickly died out while the other burst out in a laughing fit.

It took a few moments while the two composed themselves for another word to be spoken. "A-Ach, wouldn't have expected it to have that!" Gavin wiped a stray tear from his eye.

"Sh-Shut it!" Apollo was a flustered mess. "Just g-go to the next o-o-one!" His demand was acknowledged with another tap.

"Hmm...Oh, this one's a character-colon-dialogue format. Take it away, Herr Forehead."

"Er...I wish I knew what other people really thought of me, don't you?" he read off.

"I guess so." The prosecutor's eyes flickered to the next line and he audibly gulped. "...uh..." A smug grin appeared on the shorter's face. "...I-I love you, I love you, I'm in l-love with you so much it's...k-killing me," he stammered out.

"What a passionate confession!" Apollo's tone was practically laced with the fact he wanted to say 'Karma, bitch.'

"Whatever...At least I wasn't a stripper in this one."

"Shut up."

Klavier clicked again. "Klavier is a famous theatre actor/dancer/singer, hah, that's not too far off," he chuckled, "Apollo is their fan-"

"Hardly," Apollo mumbled with a snort of contempt.

A smirk curled on the former's lips. "Ahem- They always cheer extra loud for Klavier, and Klavier goes up to them one day after a show, either out of annoyance or concern for their vocal chords. The way that's so close to reality is hilarious."

"So close? You mean absolutely wrong. I can't despise your music more..."

"Ach, but it is right in one part."

"Eh?"

"I do get concerned...cause you scream out your vocal chords for me every ni-"

"KLAVIER." Apollo shouted as his face lit up, whether out of anger or embarrassment was unclear. "What the hell..."

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," Klavier couldn't help but smirk even more. "Alright, next one?"

"Sure..."

Tap. "Klavier waking up in the middle of the night hor-" he paused, choking on his own words. "..h-ooorny, and they beg Apollo to have sex. However, Apollo is too tired, and instead tells Klavier they'll have sex in the morning. Now, imagine Apollo waking up to Klavier sitting on top of them and saying 'Now?'"

"I- H- Wh-" Justice froze up, blinking rapidly. His face was as red as his work clothes. "Hwh--"

"Didn't this happen but the other way around one time?" Klavier tapped his index finger against his chin.

"It- No- I-- MmmmmmmMMMMM-"

The reaction to his outburst was only a hearty laugh. "Ach, you are just hilarious, Apollo-" He was interrupted with a swift punch to the shoulder, though it wasn't meant to be too harmful. "Ow-"

"You're a jerk..." Apollo muttered as he stole the laptop. He clicked the next one. "Klavier giving Apollo a kiss before going to work and they're still in bed...you do that all the time."

"So I do. Have you a problem, Herr Forehead?"

"Yeah, I have a problem!" Apollo glared at him, face red. "Everytime you do that I can't do my Chords of Steel!

"Oh really? And why's that?" Klavier grinned back at him.

"Because! I..." His voice got quiet. "I-I can't stop thinking...about it...a-and..."

"...you're too damn adorable." Klavier ruffled the attorney's hair, who stammered in protest. "Just go to the next one."

"...Apollo and Klavier having s-NOT AGAIN--"

"What's it say?" The prosecutor bit back his laugh and leaned over to read. After he skimmed through it, his mouth shaped into a little 'o'. "...so?"

"S-So, what?"

"How do you react?"

"...are you k-kidding me?"

"Just answer the question, Forehead." Apollo punched him in the shoulder again.

"I...W-Well...I...I guess just...stay below the n-neck...and...be......" his voice somehow got quieter, "gentle." Once Justice composed himself after the embarrassing answer, he noticed Klavier staring at him. "...u-um...Klavier...?"

"Excuse me for a moment," Klavier snapped out of it, smiling a bit, before promptly leaving the room.

"...okay."

Minutes later, he returned. "Seriously, Apollo, you'll be the death of my self control," he smiled in a way that made Apollo shiver.

[starbuckie]

Some Quarantine Lovin’  Prologue: It’s Corona Time

Marvel Highschool!AU

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Obscene amounts of fluff, kissing, swearing, kinda a lot of angst

Description: Bucky Barnes is absolutely, no doubt about it, in love with Y/N L/N. He’s loved her since the day he laid eyes on her in the third grade. He loved her when he had his own girlfriend, and when he was barely friends with her for a whole summer. And of course, in his freshman year, they are now stuck together. In a house. During a worldwide quarantine. This should be fun.

Words: 2,110 words

A/N: Hey guys! This is my first fanfic, and I’m honest to God absolutely terrified. I hope you like it, because I’ve been wanting to write since the beginning of quarantine. If you like it, like or repost, and I’m so, so, grateful. Stay home and stay safe y’all!

“Buck, can you pass me the vitamin water?” The boy was stuck in his reverie, looking at the girl next to him with unfocused eyes. Bucky had a tendency to daydream during class about different things, however most of them came back to one person. “Bucky!” The girl, frustrated with him, quickly whacked him in the arm.

“Ow, what the hell Y/N?” Bucky rubbed his bicep where she had so rudely whacked him. The girl chuckled briefly and gave him a warm smile. “What are we doing right now,” he asked, “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Y/N’s smile grew wider. “Yeah, I could tell. Can you pass me the vitamin water? I’m thirsty and hungry, and we still have forty minutes of class.” Bucky rolled his eyes at his close friend and slid her the orange bottle across their shared desk. She screwed off the cap and chugged down half the bottle, while Bucky grimaced then snatched the bottle out of her hands. 

“Jesus Y/N, share with me too, I’m the one who bought it.” The girl just shot another heart-warming smile at him again, making his heart flutter. 

“But I’m the one who snuck you into my room when you couldn’t get back into your own house. I told you that going to creek with Steve at midnight was a fucking dumb idea.” She lightly snorted, and looked back up to the board, where physics problems were scrawled out in blue marker. Bucky thought back to that night two weeks ago. 

He had sat with you, Steve Nat, Wanda, and Sam at lunch, talking about the rumors of the COVID-19 breakout. They had overheard from some of the juniors that the school would be shut down, for only one day, but possibly more. Though it had only been barely a rumor, Bucky and Steve had to take extreme measures in case they wouldn’t be able to see each other for the next few weeks. They were going to go down to the creek behind the townhouses at night, and hang out. Y/N and Sam had immediately laughed at their two dumbass friends, and Nat and Wanda had barely cared. 

     Upset with their friends for being unsupportive, the Barnes and Nobles duo, as the gang liked to call them, decided to go through with their creek plan. They had snuck out at eleven thirty, well after Steve’s ma and Bucky’s parents thought they were in bed, and met outside Steve’s house. They had brought bags of chips, and Bucky had even managed to sneak two cans of beer from his dad’s stash. They stayed there until three in the morning, just talking about high school, and how they were so excited to be sophomores the next year and haze the new freshman. Then the topic of discussion had come to Bucky’s large crush on Y/N, that wasn’t too subtle. 

     “Buck, are you really going to look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t like Y/N?” Steve asked his friend exasperatedly. Bucky rose his gaze from the gurgling water to Steve’s eyes and opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out and he blushed. “That’s what I thought, you idiot.” 

     So Bucky may have had a crush on one of his oldest friends. He had been enamored with her the moment he met her in the third grade with Natasha, until he met a pretty girl named Dot in the seventh grade and dated her until the end of eighth grade. Throughout that period of time, Y/N and Bucky’s friendship was distant and strained, but thankfully they reconnected with the crew over the summer going into highschool. He hadn’t seen her much during June, but when she came back from her acting camp up north, she had grown taller and tanner, with curves that he hadn’t noticed before. All his elementary feelings had hit him like a truck again, and he followed Y/N around like a lost puppy again, which Steve took note of and enjoyed teasing him about. By the end of the night with Steve, he had emptied out his soul to his best friend, making him promise to not tell a single soul. Steve agreed, but not before saying, “You’re screwed, punk.” 

     The boys had started walking back to their street, and when they looked at the time, they saw that it was 3:30, and they needed to get back. They sprinted to their houses, and scrambled back up the pipes on their houses. Steve got in safely, and poked his head out the window to make sure Bucky got in his own house as well. However, the sight he was met with made him laugh instead. Bucky had a panicked look on his face, and a look of realization came over him as he realized that the window was locked from the inside when he closed it earlier when leaving. 

     “Steve,” he whisper-yelled to his best friend, “can I come over for the night?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, hurry up!” Bucky scrambled back down to pipes and ran over to the side of Steve’s house, but as soon as he started climbing, Steve exclaimed, “Crap, crap, crap, my ma’s coming up the stairs, I gotta go Buck. I’m sorry!” His window shut quietly, and Bucky groaned. He pulled out his phone, and checked with the one person he both wanted and didn't want to see. 

     His finger hovered over her contact, her and Bucky’s faces grinning with peace signs held towards the camera. He pressed her number, and her gentle voice picked up. “Hey Buck, what’s up? I thought you were out with Steve.”

     “Yeah, about that…” He told Y/N the whole story of how his window was locked and Steve’s ma coming to his room. Her giggle through the phone was melodic, and he smiled just hearing it. “You are the only person I know who stays up at these unholy hours, reading Sebastian Stan fanfictio-”

     “Hey, you promised we wouldn’t talk about it!” She hurriedly cut him off. He chuckled quietly, and resumed talking.

     “Chill out, doll, no one can hear me. So, can I come over? Just for the night? I can provide cuddles and other services as well.” He jokingly said, wiggling his eyebrows though he knew she couldn’t see him. 

     “Yes, you can spend the night, you dumbass. But you gotta be quiet as shit, because if my parents find you with me in my bed, they’re gonna get the wrong idea.” His face heated up at the mention of that, but nonetheless, he still ran over to her house, a few blocks away. 

The rest of the night had been filled with quiet laughter, cuddling, and finally passing out at around 4:30 am in each other’s arms. 

Finally snapping out of his reverie, he just nodded dumbly until their physics teacher stood up. “As you all have probably heard at this point, the rumors about our school shutting down due to the coronavirus breakout are true.” Murmurs and laughs were audible around the classroom, and Y/N turned towards Bucky with a huge smile. Mr. Fury, clearly frustrated with the class, gets their attention again. “Hey, hey! I’m not done yet. Next week we will be testing online classes on the app Zoom. We are going to see how it goes, and though we hope that we will be able to return to school, the likelihood is that we will not be returning for the rest of the school year.”

Mr. Fury continued telling the class about Zoom, and instructed the students on how to use the app. Y/N was absolutely elated. For the rest of the year, she didn’t have to sit in hardass chairs at desks, but rather stay in the comfort of her home. It was part of her introverted nature she assumed, but as she saw the frown on Bucky’s face, she began to sport one as well. 

“Hey Buckaroo, what’s the pouting about,” Y/N inquiried. He sighed heavily and looked at her. “James, is everything okay?” To be honest, he was absolutely infuriated and scared of the virus, because it had now taken away his only safe place outside his house. Y/N knew about his family problems, the whole gang did, and they all did their best to support him in any way he needed, whether it was staying over or a homemade meal, but they were always there to help their friend. 

Bucky’s breathing got harsher, so Y/N grabbed his hand under the table and squeezed it. He glanced up, his eyes full of gratefulness and adoration. They both turned back to face Mr. Fury. “Tonight, there’ll be emails sent out to you, and your parents. Okay, pack up and leave, I don’t wanna see your faces for longer than I get paid for.” Y/N and Bucky gathered their things, and hustled out of the classroom.

“Hey Buck, hey Y/N,” Steve yelled from across the yard, “Where are you going next?” Y/N saw her blond friend and pulled him into a hug. Where she couldn’t see, Steve shrugged and Bucky glared at him. She released her friend from the hug. 

“Buck and I just have a free period next, we’re heading down to the library now though. Wanna come?” She asked. Steve nodded, and the trio walked to the library on the other side of campus. “It’s gonna be so weird when we have classes from home. I actually have to clean up my room, and see people from class. It’s a travesty.” She dramatically draped her forearm over her face, feigning sadness. What a fucking theatre kid, Bucky thinks. He just rolls his eyes and chuckles.

“C’mon, there are tons of things worse than just cleaning up your room. I’m gonna be stuck with my fucking family for a week, and maybe til the end of the year.” Bucky dropped his head at his words, and the three students stopped walking. Y/N pulled him in for a hug, running her hands up and down his back in a soothing manner. She knew he was on the verge of having a panic attack, and she hated it. She hated his father for making him feel worthless, she hated the psychopath who killed his mother, and she hated the fact that he has to take care of his baby sister all by himself, because only God knows where was father is at night. Bucky felt tears prick at his eyes, but he strongly inhaled and let it go. He secretly breathed in the scent of Y/N’s hair, the faint scent of her pineapple perfume calming him. She slowly released him from the hug, and he whispered, “Thank you.” With a small smile and nod of her head, they continued walking down to the library. 

Steve and Bucky made small talk about the online workouts for their baseball team, but Y/N was deep in her own thoughts. She hated the thought of Bucky staying with his dad for the duration of quarantine. Hell, she hated the thought of his dad in general. Y/N had known Bucky since the third grade, but he had only opened up to her about their family issues in seventh grade. However, she wanted to be there for him, because, well, she loved him. So, so, much. 

Before they entered the library, she stopped walking and said, “You guys go on in, I’ll catch up with you.” Both the boys looked at each other, confused.

“Where are you going, doll?” Bucky asked. She tried her best to hide the blush rising at her cheeks, but Bucky saw it and smirked. She rolled her eyes and started walking away.

“I gotta make a quick phone call,” she yelled, “I’ll be back faster than you can say cartesian diver!”

“What?” Steve yelled, confused by everything. He hadn’t had the project yet, but he would learn soon enough.

“I don’t know, it was the first thing that came to mind!” And with that, the excited girl made her way to the office to call her parents. Bucky chuckled at Y/N, though his heart was nearly bursting out of his chest with how adorably strange she was. His eyes stared at her retreating form for a while, until he turned around to meet Steve’s smirk. 

“Shut it punk, I don’t wanna hear it.” His cheeks were burning red and his oldest friend just laughed.

“Jesus, you’re absolutely smitten,” Steve said, slinging his arm around Bucky as they walked into the library.

[bigtimetired]

Red ‘n Blue

another one-shot in a wider au- in which robin and superboy meet for the first time (set near the beginning of reign of the supermen, in this au not long after damian wayne meets his father)

Sunday 5th November 1989

[Palisades Avenue, Metropolis, DE]

Tim’s never been in Metropolis in person before, which is far from ideal.

Obviously, he’s looked at maps and pictures- he’s not an idiot- and he’s fairly confident that he could navigate the main streets. There are plenty of signs on the ground after all.

Unfortunately, Tim is neither on a main street nor on the ground.

He’s on a cold and miserable rooftop, somewhere rather far from where he stowed the bike he shouldn’t be riding between cities- between states- after dark, but hey, that’s just life.

It had been a spur of the moment idea, coming to Metropolis- an idea Tim had had (purely coincidentally) after a phone call from Bruce, reminding him that patrol tonight was cancelled.

(Tim hadn’t heard anything to suggest that he was there but had been fairly fucking certain that Damian had been smirking somewhere nearby.)

(Tim had also very carefully not thought about how this was the third time Bruce had either cancelled on him or brushed him off since his son had come to America. He had also very carefully ignored the burning feeling in his chest at the thought- such things didn’t bear further investigation.)

It had been a spur of the moment decision which Tim might be starting to regret, just a little bit.

One would have thought that there would be plenty of crime to stop here, considering what had happened to Superman a few weeks back. (Rest in peace, Big Blue.)

One would have been wrong though, because Metropolis has been cool and quiet and melancholic so far, and altogether very lacking in the crime department. That’s good obviously- great even- but if Tim doesn’t find an outlet soon he’s going to start fucking screaming.

He’s just a tiny bit on edge, recently.

He wonders why.

Tim makes the leap to another rooftop, peers down over the side with disinterest- a darkened movie theatre, shutters drawn, and doors locked. Just like every other building around here seems to be.

(Would Gotham do the same for Batman?)

“Nice costume, dumbass,” says a nearby voice, and Tim whirls, heart thumping and staff in hand.

There’s a boy- only about his own age- floating (actually floating) by the edge of the roof, arms crossed and face unimpressed.

Tim’s eyes skitter around, desperately trying to find some inspiration for a plan. His gaze catches on the bright insignia just visible under the boy’s leather jacket.

Tim blinks. Surely this isn’t…

“Superboy?”

The boy huffs, annoyed. “No, I’m the new Superman.”

Tim eyes the boy’s messy hair and very young face and snorts rather rudely.

Normally he would feel bad- Robin has faced similar disbelief in the past- but Tim hasn’t been in the best of moods lately.

“Sure thing, man. Whatever you say,” says Tim, and the boy’s face twists.

“Yeah, and who the fuck are you?”, he spits, and Tim scoffs, feeling like an absolute asshole and enjoying it.

(And if he’d much rather direct all this vitriol at a certain assassin-in-training rather than a complete stranger, then that’s no one’s business but his own.)

“Robin,” says Tim, as if it’s perfectly obvious.

“Uh-huh,” says Not-Superboy. “Don’t you have a gargoyle to be standing on or something?”

“Don’t you have kittens to be saving from trees or something?”

Not-Superboy floats closer, mouth opening in response.

And then there’s an explosion from down the street.

Tim stumbles badly, is saved from tipping off the roof by Not-Superboy himself, who looks more than slightly dazed.

“Thanks,” says Tim quickly, before taking off towards the smoking crater which used to be a building.

Finally, finally, something to do, to investigate, to-

After a moment Tim realises that he seems to have acquired a shadow.

He slants a hard look at Not-Superboy, who takes this as an opportunity to grab his arm and yank him to a halt.

“What the fuck man?”

Hot, simmering, rage is starting to build in Tim’s chest.

Not-Superboy frowns at him. “What are you doing?”

“My job? What’s it look like?”, Tim snaps, and Not-Superboy rolls his eyes in response.

“No, you’re gonna stay here, out of the way.”

“And why’s that?”

“‘cause you’re just a kid?”

Oh hell no.

“Oh yeah?”, Tim’s ears are burning, and he finds himself stretching up- because the bastard’s still floating like a complete dick- into Not-Superboy’s personal space. “You’re pretty fresh-faced yourself, bud.”

Not-Superboy throws his hands out from himself in frustration. “Yeah, but I’ve got superpowers. You’re just a civilian with a stick and a cape.”

Tim would very much like to smash said stick into someone’s face right now.

It’s at this point that the cause of the explosion decides to make itself known; a huge, spider-like, machine of gleaming silver trundles its way out of the wreckage and into the street, headed towards what Tim thinks is the city centre.

Not-Superboy lets out a harsh breath. “Fine. I don’t have time for this- if you get yourself killed, that’s on you.”

He shoots off after the machine, and leaves Tim standing there, fuming.

A civilian with a stick and a cape.

That’s a fucking challenge right there, in Tim’s book.

He unholsters his grapple gun and zips ahead of the metal spider-thing, mind already whirring with plans and ideas.

If he creates a blockade up here, that’ll hopefully limit collateral damage and buy him more time to shut this thing down before it gets to somewhere slightly livelier.

Tim squints at the scene behind him- the silver thing is still making its way towards him, seemingly undeterred by the colourful shape floating alongside and hammering dents into it.

Tim rolls his eyes, before snapping back into professionalism.

Assess the situation, Robin.

It’s got spidery leg things, that’s for sure, but the machine is actually trundling along on thick caterpillar treads, which gives Tim an idea.

Out of his belt he pulls the largest and hottest flares he owns, and chucks them at two faded patches of road, roughly around where the treads will run over them in several moments’ time.

Hopefully, the tar should start to melt around there and stick to the treads for a few minutes until Tim can stop this thing permanently.

Tim jumps from the roof, swings himself onto the back of the spider with his grapple and a well-placed girder, and starts poking around for a weak spot.

A vent, an escape hatch, any gap in the armour.

Tim narrows his eyes at a tiny space next to a panel of some sort and unceremoniously wedges the end of his staff into it.

Levering a panel that doesn’t want to move is easier said than done- even more so when one is on the back of a trundling monstrosity and in danger of being flung into the street at the next sharp turn.

Tim glances up and catches Not-Superboy’s eye, who has stopped whatever it was he was trying to accomplish and is instead staring at Tim in askance.

Tim jerkily beckons him closer with his chin, not letting go of his bo staff for a second.

Not-Superboy drifts over and yanks the cover up with relative ease- that fucking show-off- and Tim slams the end of the staff into the revealed circuitry over and over until it sparks.

It’s inelegant, but it generally works.

Some of the spidery legs rise up and twist around on themselves in an admittedly very impressive display of dexterity before one of them shudders violently and pierces the shell of the machine with a horrible scraping sound.

The vehicle judders then- once again Tim nearly falls and has to be steadied by the floating dumbass- and slows its steady trundle forward.

Tim glances around and realises that they’ve driven over his melted asphalt and mentally pats himself on the back.

Not-Superboy has landed at long last and is currently stomping on the shell with one foot. Tim wants to ask him what the fuck he’s doing, but it becomes obvious as soon as one stomp makes a slightly different sound than the others.

He’s found another weakness.

This panel is also ripped off with sickening ease, though this time Not-Superboy goes, “Ha!” and reaches in.

Finally showing some sort of effort- see how it feels motherfucker? – Not-Superboy uses both hands and starts levitating again to pull out a full-grown, wriggling, man dressed in various shades of grey and not in the least bit pleased about the current state of affairs.

The man breaks free and takes a swing at Not-Superboy who dodges it, and Tim decides to delegate that particular task to him and instead focus on turning off the whatever-the-fuck’s engine, as the whatever-the-fuck is still slowly inching forward and may or may not have some form of explosive on board.

Tim drops down through the hatch and into the cabin. There are a whole load of monitors and wires and stupidly complicated-looking panels in here, so Tim takes a nice, deep, breath and compares it all to the most complex machine he can think of- the Batcomputer.

Tim knows how to turn the Batcomputer off- he pictures it in is head, the flickering lights, the hum and whirring of machine parts, the button sequence required to switch it all on and off.

And then he slices as many wires as he can with the side of a Batarang until all the lights go out and the ground stops shaking.

Never fails, that one.

Tim clambers up on the ladder back to the top and peeks his head out strategically.

Not-Superboy is still struggling with the man, taking a glancing blow to the arm and being knocked back surprisingly far.

Tim decides to not be an asshole about this and creeps up on the pair.

He kicks out the man’s legs and Not-Superboy takes advantage and socks him in the jaw with an audible cracking noise.

The man crumples, out cold.

For a moment, neither of them say anything, just catching their breath.

Then Tim says, “Do you wanna call the cops?”

“…yeah,” Not-Superboy decides. He hesitates then, “Do you have, I dunno, zip ties or something?”

Tim nods.

“Cool- back in a sec.”

Tim watches Not-Superboy dip down to ground-level, making a beeline for the nearest phone-booth.

Tim rolls the man over with some difficulty and cuffs him like Bruce taught him to. He predicts then and there that Bruce will have called him by midday tomorrow about this whole thing and a part of him lights up with a savage kind of pride.

Not-Superboy is back then, staring up from the ground with an unreadable expression.

Tim raises an eyebrow and nudges the man’s unconscious form with his boot. (Lightly, because he isn’t a complete ass and is feeling a great deal more vindicated than earlier, for some unknowable reason.)

“You gonna help me with this or not?”

Not-Superboy’s face crinkles. “Huh?”

“We’re not leaving him on top of this thing, dumbass,” says Tim, with significantly less venom in his voice than earlier.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Not-Superboy blinks, and Tim rolls his eyes, dragging the man to the edge by the armpits.

Not-Superboy takes him then and Tim hops down to the ground, surveying the scene. He decides that this is a victory for Robin on the collateral damage front and awards himself bonus points for managing it on someone else’s turf.

There are already police sirens in the distance, and Tim blinks.

“Huh. That was quick.”

“There’s a precinct a couple of blocks over,” says Not-Superboy matter-of-factly.

“Ah.”

Tim grabs his grapple again and decides that the top of the movie theatre looks promising.

“Wh-where are you going?”

Tim shrugs, cocks his head slightly. “I dunno how you do it over here, but back home we don’t tend to stick around for the cops too often. Vigilantism, and all.”

“Oh.” Not-Superboy seems to consider this for a moment. “Alright, I guess.”

Tim salutes him and zips up to the rooftops again.

He makes it all of ten seconds before a voice calls after him, “Wait a sec!”

Tim obligingly waits a sec and is only kinda exasperated to see Not-Superboy floating up to him. (Again.)

Not-Superboy rubs the back of his neck and doesn’t quite look at Tim when he says, “Thanks, I guess. I mean, I had it covered, but it was nice of you to stick around, so, uh, thanks.”

Tim nods, not quite willing to unbend yet.

“Am I still just a civilian with a stick and a cape?”

Not-Superboy winces. “Yeah-uh, that was maybe kinda shitty of me and, uh, I guess I was wrong. So sorry about that.”

It’s definitely not the best apology in the world, but Tim’ll take it.

He shrugs. “It’s okay- I was kinda a dick earlier, so we’re even.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

“Where’re you going now?”, asks Not-Superboy.

Tim rolls his shoulders. “Home, I guess. Just gotta find my bike first.”

“Bike?”

“Yeah? I mean, I hardly walked here from Gotham, did I?”

“Guess not.”

There’s a beat of silence, before Not-Superboy glances around furtively.

“Is he here?”

Tim blinks. “Is who- oh, you mean Batman?”

Not-Superboy nods.

“No,” says Tim, and he decides not to elaborate on that.

“Alright,” Not-Superboy’s shoulders relax a little. “Where’s your bike?”

“In the alley next to some diner back that way,” Tim gestures vaguely behind them.

“Lou’s?”

Tim squints, tries to remember. “…maybe?”

“Oh my god.”

Not-Superboy’s rolling his eyes but his tone is light, so Tim doesn’t feel too offended. He drifts back a few feet, gestures that Tim should follow him.

“C’mon- I don’t think Gotham will ever forgive me if I leave Robin stranded over here.”

Tim snorts but follows anyway.

 Tim’s bike is stowed neatly in the alley next to Mary-Anne’s diner, as it turns out. Not-Superboy stares at it for a few moments, eyes starry.

Tim grins. “Her name’s Redbird.”

“She’s gorgeous,” says Not-Superboy, sounding as if he means it.

Tim nods. “Yeah, she is.”

“You know your way back, right?”

Tim rolls his eyes. “Dude.”

Not-Superboy grins, honest and open. “Just checking, man.”

Tim swings his leg over Redbird, settles down and brings the engine to life.

He looks at Not-Superboy, who looks much friendlier than he did earlier.

“Thanks again,” says Tim, meaning it. “This was fun.”

Not-Superboy shrugs, but he’s still smiling. “Yeah, it was a lil bit. See you around?”

Tim nods. “See ya.”

He shoots off into the night then, feeling much lighter than he did on the trip in.

 (He gets to school by lunchtime the next day, waves a forged doctor’s note at the necessary people and doodles in the margins of his notes until the final bell.

Bruce is either busy or getting old- he doesn’t call the house phone until 6pm. Tim lets it go to voicemail, grins a little as he listens to it over dinner, despite himself.

Bruce is disgusted, Tim is benched until the weekend, and somehow he’s not quite as upset as he thought he would be.

Funny, that.)

[miracle-sham]

Our Faces are Hidden Behind Masks of Glass.

| {Maribat 2k20 – Day 1: Late Night Discussions} |

| [Ao3 Link] | | [Masterlist Link] |

| Sometimes, when secret identities are revealed, you just need a cuppa tea and some reaffirmation—and maybe some cuddles too. |

| Word count: 1534. |

==–==

| A/N: So I really thought SCAB would be my first piece of writing posted on here/for Maribat but then I got mugged in a dark dank alleyway by the Maribat2k20 MariTim prompt calendar and stabbed by the knife of inspiration. So uh yeah enjoy. |

| If you want to be tagged in future oneshots/fics, or a specific Au, then send me a DM or an ask! |

| Also side note, Don't Like? Don't Read. Also please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

==–==

 Heck-heck-heckity-heckles, Marinette chants in her head, desperately needing to find an empty alleyway that she can detransform in. She flicks her yo-yo towards a random skyscraper, and swings her way across the Gotham night skyline, scanning the streets below for somewhere that met her criteria.

 Just as her earrings bleep thrice to signal that she was down to two dots, she spots it, an empty alleyway not in plain view of any roads, or windows. There! She cheers internally, dropping down into the alleyway and whispering a “Tikki, spots off!”

 However, her relief at finding a place to detransform is short-lived, for as soon as the bright pink glow fades away, she's faced with the sight of Red Robin half changed into civvies, domino in one hand. Marinette stares at him in shock, and he stares back. Blinking blankly, she tries to wrap her mind around the fact that one of her "civilian" friends is actually a hero. A hero she's allies with, friends even.

 The two stand there for a solid minute as their brains reboot. Tim cocks his head to one side, gaze flickering between looking her up and down, and staring at her earrings. Marinette also cocking her head to one side but her gaze switches between his bare face and the domino in his hand.

 Once their brains finish rebooting, immediately the two blurt out the first thoughts to come to mind.

 “Tim... You're Red Robin?”–

 –“Wait, Marinette, you've been Ladybug this entire time?”

  Marinette swallowed, blinking back tears, suddenly very aware of how vulnerable she was in the open with her secret exposed and—oh god, Tim's the first person to know my identity bar Master Fu… This is the first time I've ever had my identity revealed and I didn't even get a choice—She manages to choke down a sob before spitting out, “I think we should take this somewhere more private.” The words burning her tongue with the acrid taste of fear.

 He nods sharply—almost more of a jerk than an actual nod. “I agree.”

 Neither makes an attempt to move, both still staring.

 “My place or yours?” She asks, hesitantly, half frowning.

 He nods again, more softly this time, “Mine, but lemme just um…” Gesturing towards the amalgamation that was half his Red Robin suit and half civvies as he speaks.

 Marinette's eyes widen in realisation, practically squeaking, she stutters. “Oh. Uh yeah, sorry!” She stiffly turns her back to him in an act of respect of privacy and cradles her face in her hands as her cheeks flush bright red from embarrassment. God, I'm never going to live this down, am I?

 After about a minute of stewing in her embarrassment, she hears Tim clears his throat from the other side of the Alleyway. “Okay, done.”

 She turns around to face him again, the blush has faded somewhat in the time passed but it's still very clearly noticeable. She can't help but glance at his civilian outfit. “Oh, er, nice?”

 He sort of just blinks at her, rather bemused. “Uh, thanks… I guess?”

 An awkward silence hangs over them as they shuffle and dance around each other on their way out of the alleyway. The walk to his theatre house is just as silent and awkward despite the hundreds of questions on each of their lips. A good thing then—Marinette supposes—that we didn't go to my place, I'm not sure I'd be able to handle an even longer awkward silence.

==–==

 They take the civilian route inside—also known as using the door like a sane person—because apparently, vigilantes will only use windows as entrances provided there are windows to enter and that the vigilantes in question are suited up. Tim spends a good thirty seconds opening his front door, deactivating a bunch of different security protocols most likely. The hallway and lounge lights were already on probably to try and deter potential robbers—the house is in Crime Alley after all—but once they enter said hallway, all the ceiling lights on the first floor switch on.

 Tim guides her to the sofa, which she perches on the edge of, facing the massive fish tank before disappearing into the kitchen. The sound of shuffling feet, cupboards and drawers opening, and the click of a kettle—or perhaps a coffee machine? She can't quite tell from this distance—are the only things to give away what he's doing in there. Marinette has no doubts that he's making the noise on purpose, he's a bat. But she's not quite sure if the noise is because he's comfortable here, or if it's because he's trying to make her feel more welcome?

 A minute later, Tim re-emerges with two teacups in hand. He gently lays both on a coffee table between the sofa and aquarium, one of the cups pushed towards her general direction. He plops himself down on the sofa as well, albeit leaving enough space between the two of them that a third person could sit there.

 She picks up the drink and peers at it, perplexed, for a second, question falling from her mouth before she can stop herself, “Earl Grey? With lemon?” I thought he was a coffee person?

 “Alfred.” Is his clipped response.

 She nods and 'oh's under her breath. That explains it. Marinette takes a sip and her eyes light up. “Oh wow! This is delicious!”

 Tim raises his eyebrows in amusement and snorts but doesn't comment. The conversation lulls again. They sip their tea in silence.

 When Marinette finishes her tea, she carefully puts the mug back down, with an audible clink, on the coffee table. She hesitates and the words Kagami once told her come unbidden to her mind. She grimaces, glances to Tim.

 He's watching her with that calculating gaze of his, however, it seems far more tumultuous in nature this evening. He's hiding his mouth behind his mug like another mask.

 Marinette leans back against the sofa and stares at his ceiling before idiomatically biting the bullet and physical biting her lips. “How long are we going to do this?”

 He freezes. “Do what?”

 She gestures vaguely in the air between the two of them. “This, tiptoe around the elephant in the room or I suppose in our case, the vigilantes in the room.”

 Her phrasing manages to bring a small smile to his face but not a second later it fades and he purses his lips.

 Solemnly, he gives her a once over. “So you're Ladybug then?”

 Marinette huffs. “And you're Red Robin.”

 “Does anyone else know that you're her then?”

 She turns her head away from him, “No, you're…” Her throat closes up and she's forced to blink back tears again. Barely holding back the sniffles, she chokes out the last few words. “You're the only other person to know.”—Not technically a lie, it's not like Master Fu remembers anything about the miraculous, let alone my identity.

 Tim deflates slightly, curling his shoulders inwards. “I wish you had told us before, we could have supported you. You shouldn't have had to deal with all that without help”

 “What? Like Batman didn't start off alone?” Marinette snaps back automatically, no real heat behind her words.

  “Batman's not exactly a pillar of good life decisions or emotional stability.” He retorts with a raised eyebrow.

 Sighing, she shakes her head and whines, “Tim…”

 “Marinette.” His lips twitch upwards like he's in on some joke she doesn't get, “On the bright side, now we know each other's identities, we can help each other on cases and patrols, or cover for the other in or out the masks.” He offers, sounding so calm and nonchalant.

 Marinette shuffles closer to him on the sofa. “That would be useful. I just. I.” She stutters, brain moving faster than her mouth.

 Tim grins ruefully. “You're worried I'm gonna tell the rest of the bats who you are, right?”

 She curls up instinctively. “Yeah…”

 “Don't worry, they're also detectives. If they can't work out your identity then why should I give them the answer?” He tries to joke but it falls flat.

 “The magic of the Miraculous stops people from making the connection between my two identities.” Marinette responds.

 “Ok, but what I'm trying to say is that I'm not going to give you away even if they ask.” He also shuffles closer to her and wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her towards him.

 “Thank you, Tim.”

 “No problem, Mari.”

 Marinette pauses. “So this won't affect our relationship in or out the mask, right? We're still friends?”

 “Of course! This doesn't change a thing.” Tim, emulating Dick, pulls her in for a hug, and if Marinette melts into his arms—well he's not going to say no to that, not when he's so touch starved.

==–==

 When Dick breaks into the house the next morning to check on Tim, seeing as he never checked out for the night nor did he return to the cave, he finds the two cuddled up together—fast asleep on the sofa. He nabs a spare blanket and pulls it over the two of them, snaps a pic to serve as evidence to Tim being okay, and then skedaddles before either can wake.

==–==

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

@maribat-2k20

[artificialqueens]

The Tinder Chronicles (Lemon x basically everyone?) - Mermelada

A/N: Bonjour Bonjour Bonjour, long time no fic! I’m currently job-less, so have naturally developed an obsession with the Canadian dwolls! This is (hopefully) going to be a multi-chapter lesbian/bi/pan AU, with lots and lots of appearances from different queens as Lemon figures her life out. I have a vague idea of what direction I want the story to go in, but I am always open to suggestions and feedback! Gros bisous à toustes! (Gender neutral French still looks a bit odd, but we’re going with it!)

Lemon tapped her yellow acrylic nails against the screen of her phone. It was now or never: she could either wallow in her post break-up misery for another two months; or she could finally start piecing her life back together and get back on the dating scene. She shook her head at the ridiculousness of her current emotional turmoil, blinking, sighing, and finally pressing the ‘download’ button on her screen. For the first time in three years, she was single. And for the first time in three years, she was going to use a dating app.

The icon spun for a few seconds, the app finally opened on her screen. This, she supposed, was the easy part. She decided to link her Facebook profile to speed things up, and pressed the buttons that she was a woman, interested in women. Not wanting to spend too long on a profile she wasn’t even sure she’d use, she chose her current favourite photo of herself to head up her profile, an adorable portrait of her sat on her kitchen floor, in plaid pyjamas, cuddling her dog. Nobody needs to know that an hour after the bliss pictured, she’d cried herself to sleep, once again unable to shake the feelings of worthlessness and inadequacy from her mind. She quickly followed by adding an assortment of photos from her Instagram which she felt best “advertised” herself: posing happily in front of the theatre where she’d just performed, cradling a giant bouquet of flowers (from her grandma, bless her); holding her leg in a grand-battement in the ballet studio, clad solely in a black leotard and bright yellow legwarmers; staring seductively into the camera lens at the dinner table, which could have been sexy if it weren’t for the floating crab claws above her head, courtesy of an off-camera Jan; and a simple selfie she’d taken moments before at her desk, with her thick-rimmed glasses perched on her nose and her hair tied back in a messy heap on top of her head. She looked at the five images, hoping that people would be able to see the kind of upbeat, loyal, and fun-loving person she really is. Or, at least, the person she can be when her heart isn’t broken. Next came her bio, which she really couldn’t be bothered with, so she just wrote the only vaguely amusing tagline she could think of: “Pucker up, motherfuckers.”  

Happy with her choices, she finally clicked the ‘save’ button and waited. The loading screen turned and twisted for what seemed like an eternity, which almost gave Lemon enough time to change her mind and delete everything. But before she could even contemplate quitting, the first profile sprung up in her hand.

Priyanka, 29

Within 10 miles

Wow, this girl – sorry, grown ass goddess – was stunning. There was no other way of putting it. Lemon bit her lip as she scrolled through the photos, holding back her giddy excitement at the prospect of getting to know with Priyanka.

Nope, she thought, don’t get too carried away. She hasn’t matched with you yet. She probably hasn’t even seen your profile yet. And she also probably wouldn’t want anything to do with you, you dumb bi- Dropping her phone and jumping onto her bedroom floor Lemon resorted to the best way of controlling her anxiety she could: doing a handstand against the wall, while singing the national anthem. The first time she attempted it was after her dad – in a panic himself – had suggested it, not sure how best to look after his daughter as her breaths shortened and her pulse raced. As it turned out, it was the perfect distraction for her adrenaline-fuelled brain, and she now kept it as her secret weapon against her hidden anxiety monsters. Maybe she could share it with someone else one day. As she finished the last long note, she stood back upright and lay back on her bed, carefully timing her breathing.

Okay, now where was I…?

Priyanka was hot. She had a picture sat on a beach in a blue and white striped bikini, followed by one in a beautiful white and gold lehnga, taken in what looked like a garden, but Lemon’s favourite was the candid snap of a laughing Priyanka in the middle of a street, surrounded by people, holding a pride flag around her shoulders. Without needing to think anymore, Lemon swiped to the right…

…and nothing happened. Without feeling too disheartened – she had only just downloaded the app, after all, these things take time – she read through the next profile.

Rita, 33

Within 10 miles

Now Rita was completely different from Priyanka, but Lemon wasn’t complaining. Her main profile picture was an artsy selfie, with her short platinum hair sleeked back, making her look every inch the sexy business lady Lemon loved. As she scrolled through the pictures, she learned that Rita was clearly a lover of the 80s, as she was definitely not afraid of bright make-up or loud, monochromatic clothing. Glancing down at bio, it simply read “Je me sens sous-titrée”. Lemon may have dropped French as soon as she was allowed at school, but it only added to her already growing intrigue. Even more enticing, however, was the final picture, where Rita appeared to be dressed as a young Céline Dion, passionately serenading a hot dog. Swiping right was a no-brainer.

The next profile quickly followed, with Lemon once again swiping right.

Kyne, 21

Within 10 miles

She was younger than Lemon would have usually gone, sure, but Kyne was pretty. She was tanned and toned and had perfect eyeliner and was a final-year mathematics and statistics major?! Sign her up!

Kiara, 22

Within 10 miles

“Kiki wanna kaikai, maybe you’ll be my type ;) “. That was all the next girl had written in her profile bio, the suggestive nature making Lemon audibly snort. She would definitely be down for some fun with Kiara, she had to be a supermodel! The tall girl was a vision in red, with her dark hair cascading down her back as she posed for the camera. It was an obvious right-swipe.

Tynomi, 39

Within 10 miles

Okay, so maybe Lemon had forgotten to set an age filter, but now she was glad it had slipped her mind. Tynomi was exquisite – if Lemon could have a figure like that at 39, she’d be a very happy girl. There was no bio to read, only four photos. In the first two, Tynomi was wearing a skin-tight lime green t-shirt dress, standing on a balcony looking out to the sea. In one, she started moodily at the camera, her honey-blonde hair gently blowing behind her. Though in the second one, Lemon could practically hear the laughter radiating from the tall woman, her mouth wide open and teeth sparkling in the sunlight.

I wonder what was making her laugh like that, Lemon pondered, zooming in to where she wishfully thought she saw the faint outline of a nipple through the thin material. Maybe one day I could make her laugh, and then I’d laugh at how much she is laughing, and we’d be so happy together… Uh oh, control yourself, Lem. Focus. Let’s not get carried away… But fuck, please choose me, Tynomi!

Boa, 25

Within 10 miles

Lemon stared at the profile, pursing her lips. She knew deep down that as much as she told herself she didn’t have a type, all of her past fixations – yes, including she-who-must-not-be-named – had one thing in common. They were all skinny bitches. But Lemon wanted to change that, she really did, she is now at an age where she needs someone she can bond with on a deeper level and have some fun with. And Boa looked very, very fun: her profile picture was her sat on a bale of hay while dressed as a cow, how could you not be entertained?! The rest of her photos followed a similar theme, until Lemon reached the final one, which took her breath away. Boa stood on a spiral staircase, with a huge smile upon her face as her sparkly silver dress hugged all he curves.

She’s funny, she’s pretty, she has amazing tits… let’s do it!

And then, she saw it. To say she felt her eyes pop out of her head, her lower jaw hit the floor, and her stomach turn inside-out would be an understatement. Two months after blocking her on every platform she could think of, two months after deleting every photo of her, two months after having her heart shattered… There she was, staring straight into Lemon’s soul.

Juice, 31

Within 10 miles

Lemon’s mind went blank. In her haste to get the beaming picture of the girl she may-or-may-not still be in love with off her screen as quickly as possible, her thumb slid the screen to the right. Before her brain could even catch up with the atrocity she had just committed, a bright, white notification popped up on her phone.

“CONGRATULATIONS! You have matched with Kiara!”

[dreamsafterhours]

college boyfriend!markhyuk au series: III (donghyuk's pathway)

a universe in which roommates!markhyuk meet each other's s/o in class

markhyuk are roommates, my/n and dy/n are roommates, mark and dy/n take classes together and so do donghyuk and my/n — how will their fates intertwine?

genre: fluff pairings: mark+my/n (fem), donghyuk+dy/n (fem), platonic!mark+dy/n, platonic!donghyuk+my/n format: dotpoint AU universe: non idol, college bf warning: some swearing

masterlist

or click here to meet your soulmate, eng lit!mark!

II ⇤ | III | ⇥ IV

III: 별빛이 내린다 샤라랄라랄라라 (2+2=4)

the meeting of two souls: donghyuk & dy/n

welcome! back and to the next part

in which things actually happen! yay

so. up until this point

it’s been quite obvious i hope

that this is the one where The Soulmates Meet™

and this one right here is the one where donghyuk meets his future wifenew best (not) friend

dammit this is a set plot with SET relationships

yeah

major spoilers for future parts but hey :) y’all know it i know it let’s just.

let’s get to it!!

that day you accidentally sleep in after a late night and walk into your lecture looking pretty trashier than you would normally a few weeks into the first sem and you’re already tired it’s okay bby aww

and mark suggests skipping the next lecture and going for coffee instead

you’re like ok lmfao free coffee for me yay thanks marcus i owe you one

and to make up for the lecture he suggests he join you and your roommate with his own roommate in the library later that day to study the material you’d missed out on

so you’re like sweet study group hell yeah and apparently his roommate is also in biomed like your roommate? hey they might get along pretty well it’d be nice to have roommates in the same faculty hey

little do you know you little cutie you uwu

mark takes you to a cafe to buy you your favourite drink and a croissant bc you skipped breakfast again and he cares about his friends ok plus he was eyeing that donut next to the savoury menu in the glass cabinet and he would have felt bad if he got something to eat and you didn’t

you sit down, sipping your drink at the window seats and wishing your fatigue away

laughing with mark about what you slept so late for

my/n had been ranting about her love life again or perhaps lack thereof,,

don’t worry tho

after you’d gotten her to sleep, you’d gotten major feels for an essay question that you’d been tasked with due in a week but you hadn’t touched it until last night

staring at the prompt for at least half an hour trying to get your head around it and wondering what the hell you’d write about

but like they say

starting is half of it

so when you start spinning your words and getting into the writing mood

you accidentally wrote an entire draft without realising

albeit being full of loose ends and points you need to refine, etc., it was a decent body of work that you’d tackle for a few more nights before turning in

a skeleton, you’d called it

“a skeleton?”

“yeah. next thing i need to do is.. flesh it out”

“.. literally”

cue mark’s small pause

/inhale/

/MANIACAL LAUGHTER/

you know how mark’s laugh is very how do i put this into words hm dictated

you can HEAR each HA and they’re separate syllables yet sometimes they can vary in tone and length right it’s usually the more consistent HAs before he kinda loses it and starts throwing himself around

it was that laugh

honestly man finds everything funny his laughing threshold seems so low

and no matter how unfunny you are he WILL laugh at anything you say

and you’ve been doing it a lot lately

you could say literally any random thing and he’d already be ready to laugh (see Figure 1.1)

Figure 1.1

you: /snort/

mark, already giggling: “what”

you, still sniggering: /touches his elbow/ “arm knee”

mark: /inhale/ gotta live and breathe that oxygen

mark: HAHAHAHAhahAhaHAHAhahAhHa (decrescendo.. cRESCENDO)

^ that but looped, with intermittent slaps to your arm

anyways you never fail to make him fall out of his chair in laughter

but enough of that. dy/n is donghyuk’s y/n for a REASON ahEM

so after you finish up your breakfast at the cafe you go back to your dorm to take a power nap and recharge before your library session you were going to stay awake but mark forces you to take a nap and you’re like bro you just fed me caffeine now you want me to sleep??

then he tells you he ordered your drink decaf

you turn to him real slow

“.. you sick traitor. how dare you besmirch my name so. you scorn my forefathers and our dependence on the holy bean’s juices. betrayal runs rampant in your soul and mine stands at the mercy of your choices, them informed by the devil himself”

mark: /shrug/ “placebo effect yeet. hey, it worked for a bit. now you should really go home and get your sleep”

and he drags you back to your dorm and waves you off before going to his next class

you’re lowkey grateful for it tho when you take a shower and collapse onto your bed, falling asleep in what you think could be half the time you usually take

dreaming about losing your airpods and mark yelling at you to be more careful and then you two fighting bc you’d just lost your $300 bean sprouts but you could have sworn he took them

then police sirens went off out of nowhere and both of you were being arrested for assault and thievery

why you were the one being arrested, you had no idea but it’s a dream nothing follows the guidelines of hard reality anyway

just as you’re about to be handcuffed, you think to yourself, nope. i have a library session to attend. ain’t nobody got time for this shit

and you just

wake up

but the sirens are still continuing?? so you’re like ? is my building surrounded

they’ve come for me

even though you haven’t exactly broken any laws or have you

and you realise it was the alarm you’d set in time to get ready for your library session

so you grab your stuff and leave for the library, double checking with your roommate over text to make sure she was on her way

her lab class was taking longer than usual so she tells you she’ll be 10 or so minutes late

so you tell her you’ll be saving a seat for her and call mark to let him know you’re on your way to the library

“oh i’m already here lol. alright, i’m waiting for you outside”

and sure enough, you see him leaning on the wall of the entrance, eyes on his phone

you consider calling out to him but before you actually do, he glances up and spots you walking over tf do you have psychic spatial awareness mark

smiles and takes his corded earphones out

“you seriously need to upgrade those”

“they work fine”

“nop i’m getting you airpods for your birthday”

“dUdE thEy’RE tOo ExPEnSiVe. nO dUDE NoO”

“nOP. i’m GOING to buy you EXPENSIVE BEAN SPROUTS for your LIFE DEBUT ANNIVERSARY and you CAN’T STOP ME”

at this point i should just put /MANIACAL LAUGHTER/ and you should know what laugh i’m referring to

/MARK LEE’S MANIACAL LAUGHTER/

/MLML/ for short

nvm it’s fine it’s kinda fun to type /MANIACAL LAUGHTER/

literally mark laughs in bolded italics i’m just sad i can’t underline it on tumblr unless it’s a link lmfao

n e ways

i digress

you shush him because you’re about to walk into the library

“qUIET DOWN marcus” turn that sh down for quiet new dawn

the library is almost full for the day but after a minute or two scouring the building you find an empty four seater in the middle of nowhere it’s CRAZY you can NEVER find a MIRACLE like this life couldn’t get better

i’m sorry

you speed walk to claim it even though there was no one else in your vicinity to threaten your territory

mark laughs at you trying to get to the table as fast as you could without all out running

getting out your things, you send a photo of your seat to your roommate and tell mark to send it to his roommate as well so they know where to find you

you start watching the lecture online while taking notes and since you’re not in the lecture theatre you can talk more audibly with mark not that you don’t talk in the actual lecture too,,

maybe you do text a lot,,, during class

mark usually says things like “.. implications of what now?? interpretation of huh?” to which you reply “i want cheese when i get home”

and he has to stifle his laughter while you keep your straight face and continue writing your notes he admires this ability ngl

and so while you’re watching it on your computer

you can say things like “fuck. i want pickles”

and mark will /throw himself back/ and cackle and probably say some shit like “DIDN’T YOU HATE PICKLES??” between his giggles

and you’re like “yeah. fuck pickles but like. fuck. pickles”

he almost falls off his chair at this point

but when he balances himself again he spots someone down the corridor and wave them over

“oii! over here dude”

you turn to glance at them to expect his roommate, but you see your own roommate talking to someone and wave her over as well

“heYY my/n”

you see the other person turn to your roommate and tell her something, , then she says something back

which is apparently shocking to them, because he glances over at mark and then at you

and then he looks again when your roommate points straight at you

to which you’re like ?? hi? y u look me

and then they both start laughing

you wonder if they were laughing at you or smth until mark’s like “tf is that idiot doing”

and u look at him like ? what idiot

“that idiot. the idiot roommate i told u about. the one who called u a homewrecker”

and you’re like

wait

[info clog]

wait

[error]

“wait”

“what”

“that’s your roommate?” u point at the boy next to my/n, who r both still laughing at something going all “wOW r u KIDDING” he has a loud voice

and mark’s like “? yeah”

and you go

“.. the girl next to him is my roommate”

mark: “wait what”

that’s what she said

at that point they’ve made their way over to the table, still trying to hold in their laughter

you start to introduce your roommate to mark, who’s still confused by the situation

you: “mark, this is my/n, my/n this is mark”

my/n: “nice to see you again mark”

you: “wait. again?”

mark: “yeah we’ve met. hi my/n”

you: “what”

mark: “yeah”

my/n: “yeah”

his roommate: “yeah”

you:

you: “i feeling like i’m missing something here”

turns out

surprise surprise

that one friend that my/n had made in her biology class was mark’s roommate oh my god they were roommates

whose name, you are told, is lee donghyuk

magical moment

us watching: heh 🤤

u can’t help but do a lil body scan from head to toe bc he a fine piece of cake we all know that

honey skin, oversized white t shirt, black pants, sneakers and lighter brown hair that looks fluffy the type of fluffy that makes u wanna touch it

yes he’s good looking. yes

yaaaaas

then mark tells him your name

“she’s the one i said reminded me of you”

“r u talking abt me behind my back marcus??”

donghyuk laughs and holds out a hand for you to shake

“what kinda coincidence is this?? i adopt your roommate, you’re dealing with mine”

“oh you’re gonna have to get in line to adopt her, i’m her legal guardian, sorry donghyuk”

to which he goes

“lmfao then we’ll both be her parents”

“k but i’ll keep her on the weekends. you see her on the weekdays”

then he wipes his smile off his face and he’s like “who said we’re split”

mark and my/n are doing the /MANIACAL LAUGHTER/ at this point

mark: “so ,, seriously what are the chances”

you: “this quartet,, it’s fate guys it’s fate there’s no way about it”

yes it is. yes. it is

even that four seater table was free because of fate

donghyuk: “this calls for drinks later. we all free? no 9am classes tmr?”

my/n: “we have a physics prac at 8:30 dingus”

donghyuk: “ah shit”

you barely got any notes for that lecture for at least an hour because you end up talking altogether throughout the session but once you remember you’re in a library to study you request a ceasefire and agree to study for a bit which,, you gotta admit ,, isn’t really productive because you’re so excited to meet someone new

but the best part about the day was when you notice how many times mark is glancing at your roommate while she’s reviewing her notes, completely oblivious

donghyuk complains that he’s hungry after another hour or two and you suggest you all have dinner together

donghyuk leans back in his chair in a stretch, his jumper lifting up a little over his jeans and showing a bit of his belly “ah i’m craving chinese”

you perk up, “mE TOO”

so you all go to your favourite chinese place just outside campus where you find out that mark and my/n have the same taste and so do you and donghyuk

he points and u and goes “oH?”

“jjAMPPONG? U TOO?”

“the ONLY DISH EVER”

mark and my/n: jjajang is fine : )

you and donghyuk: “JJAMPPONG IS SUPERIOR”

give him a bro five with the shoulder bump and everything

the boys walk you and my/n back to your dorm afterwards

donghyuk and my/n end up walking in a pair and mark walks alongside you

mark mentions how it’d be fun if you made a group chat together

you: “do it”

“i don’t have your roommate’s number tho”

you’re smiling wickedly at his reaction “?? ASK HER FOR IT”

“dude what?? no u make one and i’ll add donghyuk to it”

“bRO JUST ASK”

“wHAT NO U DO IT THEN”

so u go

bet

and you call out the two biomed kids walking in front of you

“hey donghyuk! give me your number i’ll make a group chat”

“sure lol” and you open up a new contact to let him type his number into your phone

he saves his name as hot boi hyuk ✌🏻

which you just leave bc you’re busy making the group chat

mark is still astounded that you asked donghyuk for his number so easily

you: hi hello good day

my/n 🌸: yeetus meetus

hot boi hyuk ✌🏻: bow before me

you: here before me lie the beginnings of a new era

you: one born from blood and stone

my/n 🌸: tf is she saying

hot boi hyuk ✌🏻: idk but lets go with it

you: together we rise from the rubble and sort through the debris

hot boi hyuk ✌🏻: yas queen

my/n 🌸: i hate this gc already

you: and we WILL REBUILD THIS EMPIRE

read by marcus the fool 🤡 at 8:21 pm

safe to say you stay up for a good while talking on that group chat while mark just sits idle,,

you honestly don’t know if he’s consciously reading or not maybe he just left his phone on the chat

and thus our quartet is complete,,

and they all lived

happily ever after

but this isn’t the ending tho is it

wink wonk /waggles eyebrows/

this is but the epilogue to the prologue

that doesn’t make sense but n e ways

our quartet has not yet become two pairings

y’all just don’t know what the future has in store for you :)

click here to meet your soulmate, eng lit!mark!

II ⇤ | III | ⇥ IV

taglist: @lavellanfriendliness​ 

shoot me an ask if you’d like to be tagged in future parts!

[rulesofthebeneath]

masters of our fates- chapter 2

@ajaysbhandari @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @awkwardalbatros @ravenclawpokegirl25 @itsbrindleybinch

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21706489/chapters/51862954

As soon as Ajay merged onto the highway, he pressed the button that turned on the radio. It was tuned to talk radio, but before Grace could side-eye him he quickly switched over to the CD player, which instantly started playing a song off the Wicked soundtrack. It was Grace’s turn to raise her eyebrows.

“You like musicals?” she asked.

“Love them,” he replied. He started humming along with the singers.

“Me too,” Grace admitted. “I cried the first time I saw Wicked.”

Ajay bit his lip. “Did you do theatre? Pre-diagnosis, I mean.”

“Oh, I was such a diva. There was no getting me out of the spotlight,” Grace recalled with a laugh. 

“I think I saw that part of you in support group,” Ajay said. “You were zoned out for most of it, but it seemed like whenever I said something you had to steal my spotlight.” He smiled so she’d know he was teasing, but she still felt a wave of insecurity go through her.

“Yeah, I… don’t know what that was all about. I’m sorry for interrupting you.”

Ajay shook his head. “No, don’t apologize. Sometimes I need to be put in my place.”

Grace snorted, but didn’t say anything further. They rode along, listening to the song, until the song switched, and Ajay apparently couldn’t contain himself to just humming anymore.

“One short day in the Emerald City…” he sang along with the chorus on the soundtrack. As soon as Grace turned to look at him, he raised his eyebrows: a clear invitation.

She rolled her eyes, but caved in.

“One short day in the Emerald City. One short day, full of so much to do,” she sang along shyly, fully aware that her weakened voice couldn’t compare with his, or with what he was used to hearing.

But he didn’t seem to care.

“Every way that you look in the city, there’s something exquisite you’ll want to visit before the day’s through,” he sang, his eyes trained on the road but a stunning grin spreading across his face. 

“There are buildings tall as Quoxwood trees,” Grace sang again, hesitantly.

“Dress salons,” Ajay added, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Libraries,” Grace half-laughed.

“Palaces!” Ajay squeaked, imitating Glinda’s peppy voice, and Grace lost the next line to a fit of giggles.

“There are wonders like I’ve never seen,” Ajay sang next, recovering more quickly than Grace could.

“It’s all grand,” sang Grace, her voice cracking on the top note. In the embarrassment, she lost her breath, and with it all focus on the singing.

Ajay noticed, and kept one eye on her careful breathing as he merged off the highway. He turned the music down, but not all the way off.

Grace tried to stop herself from audibly gasping for air, but it was a close thing. She didn’t want Ajay to see her like that, so weak.

Damn lungs, she thought to herself. Embarrassing her in front of somebody she found herself really wanting to impress, for some reason.

He pulled into the diner’s parking lot, and looked over at her. She could feel the concern in his gaze, and without looking at him, she waved him off while taking carefully controlled breaths from her cannula.

“I’m… fine… not… dying…” she said between breaths, and relief crossed Ajay’s face.

“Do you need anything? Um, water or something?”

He was clearly out of his depth.

“No… just… one… second…” Grace said, still wheezing slightly. She gripped the edge of the seat tightly as she tried to force the air into her lungs, tried to keep their pathetic wheezing and trembling to a minimum. It took her more than the one second she’d asked for, but eventually her lungs were back under autonomous control.

She sat up and saw Ajay looking at her, pity clear on his face.

“No,” she said, her voice embarrassingly faint but her will strong enough to make up for it. She cleared her throat. “No,” she said again. “None of that. Do you like it when people look at you like that when they find out about your leg?”

“I-- no,” Ajay conceded, shifting his gaze away from her. “I’m sorry. I was just worried.”

“I’m fine,” Grace said, her guard shooting back up. “No need to worry.”

“Okay.” With that, Ajay got out of the car. Grace followed suit, and the two walked into the diner and were seated as soon as they got there by an older lady. They each ordered hot tea and a stack of pancakes, and then Grace saw Ajay’s eyes fixed on her again.

“What?”

“Does that happen a lot?” he asked.

Grace sighed. “Not anymore. It used to happen a ton before I started taking the medicine I’m on now.”

“Oh,” he said. 

Grace looked down at her hands. She tried to figure out how to break the tension, but eventually it was Ajay speaking up again that did it.

“So, anyways. Grace. What’s your last name?”

It was clear he was just fishing around for something to say, but Grace decided to humor him.

“Lee,” she said. “Short and sweet. What’s yours?”

“Bhandari,” he said. “Neither short nor sweet. Do you have any siblings?”

“My twin brother goes to Berry,” she said. “He was running against Rory for student body president last year. Now he’s VP.”

“Oh, you’re James’ sister?” 

“Um. Yes?” she said, a question masking the surprise in her words. “How do you know my brother?”

“I don’t know him well, it’s just that I was Rory’s campaign manager,” he said. 

“Oh, so you’re who I have to thank for all the times he woke me up in the middle of the night to brainstorm campaign ideas.”

Ajay laughed. “Only if that means you’re who I have to thank for his pool noodle sword fight during Rory’s flash mob,”

Grace giggled. “Guilty as charged. Now, do you have any siblings?”

“My little brother, Mohit.”

“How old is he?”

“He’s eight.”

“Wow, that’s quite the age difference.”

“Yeah, really. Sometimes it almost feels like he’s my nephew or something, not my brother. I guess once we’re older it’ll stop feeling like that, but since I basically parented him most of last year…” he trailed off, a guarded look on his face. 

They sat in silence while Grace tried desperately to find something to ease the tension.

“Taking care of your brother and running a campaign during your junior year, sounds stressful,” she said with a half-hearted smile.

He loosened up a little.

“It was. I’m glad the school year is over, even though I really do like school. It was just hard to keep up with everything. Especially math.”

“You don’t like math?” Grace asked, an eyebrow raised. 

“More like math doesn’t like me,” Ajay mumbled, punctuating the sentence with a self-deprecating laugh.

It was a nice laugh.

Shut up, Grace told her brain.

“Enough about me,” Ajay said. “Tell me about you. What’s your story?”

Grace sighed.

“Well, I was diagnosed with stage four thyroid cancer when I was thirteen, and then–”

He cut her off. “No, no, not your Cancer Story. Just your normal story.”

“My normal story?”

“Yeah. Like where you were born, what your hopes and dreams are, your favorite color, things like that.”

Grace was bewildered. Nobody had asked her that in a while. Nowadays, they just saw her cannula and wanted to know why she had to use it. A warm, genuine smile grew on her face, and a giddy bubbly feeling rose up inside her.

“Uh, well, where do I start? I was born in England,” she said, watching his carefully neutral expression.

“England?” he asked, an eyebrow raised and a slight tinge of surprise. “I didn’t know you guys were British.”

“My parents aren’t, just me and James. Our birth parents died when we were really young and our other relatives gave us up for adoption.”

“Oh, you’re adopted. I guess that makes sense. I was about to say that you don’t have an accent at all.”

“Nope, no accent for me. I always kind of thought that would be cool to have a British accent.”

“You’d certainly be able to do a lot of Shakespeare,” Ajay remarked.

Grace nodded. “I never really got the hang of Shakespeare. Or British accents, for that matter.”

“It’s definitely hard to master. So, you said that you used to act?”

“Yes, and I was a complete spotlight hog,” Grace said. “You can ask Rory. I used to make James watch little plays that Rory and I wrote when we were kids. I don’t think they’ve ever forgotten the roles that I’d force them into.”

The waitress reappeared then, holding two plates of delicious-looking pancakes. Grace dug in eagerly, the hunger from not eating breakfast that morning overtaking her.

“So what about you?” Grace asked Ajay through a mouthful of pancakes. “What do you do? Besides hating math.”

“I’m actually the director of the shows we do at Berry,” he said, neatly cutting his pancakes into squares. “I’ve always loved directing, and it’s really great of the theatre teacher to let me have so much control over the productions. I do some directing outside of school, too.”

“Wait, you’re the Berry High student director?” Grace asked, surprised.

“Yeah?”

“So you’re the one who convinced the school to use the play as a fundraiser for Rory’s mom.”

Ajay started to look a little sheepish. “Yes, that was me.”

“Wow, Ajay,” Grace said, her admiration for him growing tenfold. “I don’t think I have to tell you how much that helped them.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he said, his face turning red. “I mean, obviously it was a big deal for the Silvas, but it was the least I could do. A family friend selflessly helped us out when I was first getting used to my new leg, so it was only fair to pass the kindness on.”

Grace cocked her head, studying him. His eyes were trained on the table, his hands busying themselves with the pancakes. It was clear that he hadn’t started the fundraiser so he could get recognition, but that he actually had genuinely wanted to help someone in need. 

You don’t see that much anymore, Grace thought. The world needs more people like that.

Ajay must have felt her eyes on him, so he looked up and matched her gaze at last.

“What?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” Grace countered, a little embarrassed to have been caught staring. “You were staring at me during the whole meeting.”

“Ah, yes. Well at first it was because you were new, because I’ve never seen you in group before. Then by the end, it was because you’d challenged me and argued with me.”

“I’m still sorry about that.”

“I still don’t want you to be sorry about it,” Ajay said. “I like that. I like people who aren’t afraid of talking about the hard stuff.”

Grace shrugged. “Well, when you’ve been dying for three years straight, it’s hard to have a filter about stuff like death. Thinking about that stuff is as natural as a heartbeat for me.”

“Me too,” Ajay admitted, “but I think that’s less because of the cancer and more because I spent middle school stumbling around in a depressive haze.”

“That’s what I do now,” Grace said with a slight grin. “That’s why James told me to go get a life. He’s tired of me just sitting around the house binge-watching reality TV.”

“And your version of getting a life is hanging around some stuck-up director from support group?”

Grace rolled her eyes, casting her eyes around the diner as she tried to come up with a response. The only feeling she could register was nostalgia, as she took in the tiled floor, the old-fashioned booths and the jukebox in the corner. 

“God, I miss this place,” she said without thinking.

“Oh, I know,” Ajay replied, stopping to take a sip out of his mug. “I think the old owners sold it a few years ago, and it just doesn’t quite have its old charm anymore.”

That’s my fault, Grace thought, and she bit her lip. She was the reason her parents had sold the diner, maybe even the reason they weren’t happy anymore. They tried to hide it from her, but she saw how exhausted her dad was after those long shifts. She saw the circles under her mom’s eyes that never went away.

She snapped back into the present and Ajay’s eyes were on her. He looked concerned, and she realized that he must have said something to her.

“Um…” she said, not knowing how to reply. 

“Nevermind,” Ajay said, shaking his head. 

Grace smiled shyly, appreciating the out. “So, should we split the check?”

“That seems fair,” Ajay agreed. The two examined the bill and paid for their respective parts at the register, and then before they knew it, they were back out in the oppressively hot afternoon.

Grace looked down at her hands. “I don’t want to go home yet,” she said. 

Ajay laughed. “Enjoying my company too much?”

“Enjoying the sunshine too much. I haven’t been outside in weeks.”

“Well, then I know where we have to go!” Ajay said, leading Grace towards his car.

She got in. “Is it the park?” she asked.

“I can’t share all my secrets,” he said again, causing Grace to roll her eyes.

A few minutes later, Ajay parked his car in a lot riddled with fallen twigs and green leaves.

“You brought me to the park,” Grace deadpanned.

“You wanted more sunshine,” Ajay pointed out. “I’m just trying to fulfill your request.”

Grace sighed and made for the park’s entrance, Ajay trailing behind her.

“So what was that? At the diner?”

“It was nothing.”

“It clearly wasn’t nothing,” Ajay argued back, cornering Grace in the conversation.

“I’ve already told you too much about myself.”

“That’s not true at all. Only once in our hour-long conversation did I see anything resembling an emotion.”

“Oh? When was that? You’ll have to tell me so I don’t do it again.”

Grace beelined for a bench, the small amount of walking having already exhausted her. Once she reached it, she tried not to collapse. Ajay sat down next to her, his eyes on her, his expression expectant. She knew exactly what he wanted to hear.

“My parents were the old owners of the Golden Griddle,” she said quietly. “They gave it up because they couldn’t afford both me and the restaurateur lifestyle.”

“Shit,” Ajay cursed quietly. “That’s… shit.”

“Yeah,” Grace said. “I took away their dreams. If I’d just died, yknow…”

“They’d have missed you,” Ajay said, and Grace had to admit he made a good point. But she wasn’t going to let him have that.

“They’d have gotten over it,” she said, and Ajay didn’t look like he had a response to that, so the conversation lapsed into silence.

“My parents are divorced,” he offered, out of the blue. “I know it’s because of me, even though they say it’s not.”

“Ajay, I’m sure it’s not--”

“It was because they were always arguing about money,” he said, cutting her off. “My chemo, radiation, surgeries and the new leg must’ve cost… I don’t even know.”

Grace pressed her lips together; it was her turn to not know what to say. She wrung her hands together, silent until he decided to speak again.

“So not only did I ruin their marriage, I also completely ruined Mohit’s life. He should be able to grow up with both his parents, but instead he only sees Dad on weekends. Objectively, I caused that to happen.”

“You can’t control the fact that you had cancer, though,” Grace pointed out. “And you can’t control the fact that the treatments cost a lot.”

“I should never have complained about my knee,” he said with a laugh. “That’s what got us into this mess. I should’ve just shut up about it.”

 “You would’ve died,” Grace said, slowly realizing how much she didn’t want that to happen.

Ajay shrugged. “And saved them a ton of medical expenses.”

“But if you’d died, it would’ve hurt Mohit. He’s so young, it wouldn’t be fair to put him through that.”

“You can’t say your family would get over your death and then turn around and say that to me, though. It’s the same thing. If my death would hurt my brother, your death would hurt your brother just as much.”

Grace huffed. “I guess. Sometimes I think, though, maybe it would’ve been better if I’d died a year or so ago. Before they got me into the clinical trial I’m on. They’re still paying a ton for my medication, and I’m still not getting any better. It seems like a waste of time and money because I’m still going to die young anyway.”

It took Ajay a few minutes to come up with a reply, but when he did, Grace almost smiled. Before long she found herself lost in the conversation, which jumped from morose topic to morose topic. By the time the sun set hours later, still sitting beside Ajay on the wooden park bench, she had gotten a little lost in him too.

It was freeing for a moment-- to do all those things normal teenagers did, get crushes and have friends and go out to the park-- until reality came crashing back to her. This was only temporary. She was just living on borrowed time, until her miracle drug stopped working, until the cancer spread to her brain and made her into a zombie. She couldn’t do that to him. But damn, having let her walls down for the first time was such a rush. Over the course of their conversation, she’d never felt so understood.

But he wasn’t dying, and she was. That was something that would always strain their relationship. So Grace turned it off. She shut down that part of her brain that made her want to giggle when he looked at her, that made her desperately want to reach out and put her hand on top of his.

“I have to get home,” she said abruptly. Ajay looked surprised, but he didn’t say anything until they’d gotten to the car. Grace walked a little slower than usual, under the excuse of being tired, but she really wanted to draw the night out longer, the one night where she had felt normal.

“At least give me your number,” he said. “It was nice to talk to someone who gets it. I don’t really talk to many other survivors, and it was a good conversation.”

Grace decided she’d allow herself that. A shining chance at feeling normal again. And if she was completely honest with herself, she couldn’t turn down the opportunity to talk to him again.

“Ok, fine, give me your phone.”

When he smiled, her dimmed world lit up just a little, but she ignored the way her heart skipped a beat. There wasn’t time for that.

By the time he pulled up at her house, though, her thoughts were pitch black again, so she had to shut them all out. It was her best coping strategy, a suit of armour to shield her from the gnawing pain the words could cause.

“Goodnight, Grace,” Ajay said, but she could barely hear him. 

“Goodnight,” she forced herself to say, and then she went into her house. Not having the energy to talk to her parents or James, she just forced a sleepy smile, told them she was tired, and headed off to her room. She locked the door, turned all the lights off, changed out her oxygen canister to one that would let her make it through the night, and tried not to think.

[the-quiet-winds]

Saying Things We Haven’t for a While

so i forgot this existed? and recently @ichlugebulletsandcornnuts reminded me of it and i was like hell yeah, i love this one.

so read it, cowards.

almost three months after the adoption, jane and katherine are contacted by a parenting magazine who are interested in writing a feature on them. according to the magazine it was to highlight the adoption of teenagers and to help potential parents realise how wonderful adopting an older child can be. of course, jane and katherine were thrilled at the knowledge that their story could help other kids like kat, and they immediately agree to an interview which takes place a week later, after a show in the dressing room of the theatre.

the interviewer is a friendly woman named melanie who shakes their hands with gusto, and with her is a camerawoman who melanie explains is here to take photographs.

melanie immediately launches into her questioning, inquiring about every dripping detail about how they met, what they did over their time together, and how jane decided to adopt katherine.

jane doesn’t stop smiling the whole time. she does most of the talking, eagerly answering every question.

“that’s lovely, jane,” melanie says somewhat condescendingly after jane told the story of the pink bear. “what about you, katherine? how did you react when jane proposed the adoption?”

katherine blushes and look down. “well, i was really excited. mama said-“

“what was that?” melanie asked quickly.

“all i said was ‘mama’?” there’s a touch of confusion in katherine’s tone.

“you call her ‘mama’?” melanie asks with a stifled laugh.

jane hears the amusement in melanie’s tone and her protective maternal instincts immediately put her on the defensive.

“is that a problem?” she asks, a note of ice in her voice. melanie shakes her head, barely suppressing a smirk.

“no, not a problem. she’s just more than a little too old to be calling you that, isn’t she? most children grow out of that by the time they hit double figures, if it even takes them that long.”

katherine visibly shrinks back as melanie speaks, crossing her arms in front of her chest self-consciously.

jane bites her tongue. she wants to defend katherine, she does, but she can’t talk about katherine’s lovely and childlike tendencies without also describing everything that happened to katherine in her past life.

“even so,” jane coldly concedes, “if that is what she wishes to call me,” she takes one of katherine’s hands to reassure her, “she is free to do whatever she wishes.”

“if that’s what you want,” melanie chuckles. “i just couldn’t imagine my children calling me that, and the oldest is only eleven.” she gives an almost bemused shake of her head. “but please, continue. katherine, what was your reaction?”

katherine glances at jane uncertainly, and jane gives her hand a soft squeeze.

“it’s okay, kitty-kat,” she says softly, hoping katherine understands her double meaning. melanie’s eyebrows raise at that.

“kitty-kat? how... adorable,” she says, the corners of her lips twitching.

jane narrows her eyes at the interviewer. “i feel this interview is turning quite hostile, miss melanie,” she says, a line of ice in her words. “i thought this was about how wonderful it is to adopt older children.” she squeezes katherine’s hand again, reassuring her that this was going to be fine, it would be okay.

“well,” melanie says with a laugh, “she doesn’t seem to be quite as mature as i’d thought.”

“excuse me?” jane challenges.

“no offense, katherine,” she says pleasantly, then back to jane, “she acts like a child.”

“i think this interview is over, for now,” jane says coldly. “i would be perfectly happy to continue if your magazine sent someone with more professionalism next time.”

“i didn’t mean to offend,” melanie raises an eyebrow. “i thought it was something you were already aware of.”

katherine stares down at her hands, face flushed a humiliated shade of pink and the familiar telltale signs of an oncoming crying fit on her features.

melanie huffs and her and the cameraman head out.

as soon as they’re gone, jane turns and kneels in front of katherine, taking both of her hands. “hey, love, forget about that.” she reaches up to cup one cheek, stroking her cheekbone lightly. “there’s absolutely nothing wrong with you. i love you just the way you are, kitty-kat.”

“maybe i am too childish,” katherine mumbles, avoiding jane’s gaze. “i mean, i know i act kinda young sometimes.”

“and that’s okay,” jane says softly. “you’re not acting like a child, you’re just being you, love. don’t listen to anything she said.”

katherine doesn’t look convinced, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth and blinking rapidly as if to stop the tears jane knows are just waiting to fall.

“there’s nothing wrong with you or how you act, love,” jane repeats slowly.

katherine barely nods her head, but jane can sense there is very little understanding behind it.

she stands and extends a hand to katherine. “come, love,” she whispers. “let’s go home.”

as soon as they get home, katherine doesn’t say a word to jane and instead nearly runs inside and up the stairs, closing the door to her room before jane has even shut the front door.

katherine’s pink bear sits on her bed, almost as if it were mocking her. she picks it up and hurls it across the room into her bin in a moment of anger and frustration, hot tears already beginning to stream down her face.

it takes her approximately five seconds to regret her actions and retrieve the bear from the bin, clutching the bear to her chest and throwing herself onto the bed.

she buries her face into the pink synthetic fur, hating how much she needed her bear for comfort. it was stupid, immature and childish. nothing she should be doing at her age.

the bear was still in nearly pristine condition, save for a few stitches to reattach its ear, which jane had done, but jane also took and washed it every few weeks, to keep it clean and fresh.

katherine begins to cry harder at this. she can’t even take care of her own stuff. jane does it. she doesn’t cook her own food. jane does it. she can’t go anywhere unless jane is there.

why can’t she function like a normal person without jane?!

a worry creeps up in katherine’s mind and she clutches the bear tighter. what if jane came to resent her for being so needy and helpless? sure, she says it’s okay now, but after another year of this katherine’s sure jane would be exhausted by it. and she’d never tell katherine either, that’s for sure; she’s too kind and caring and loving to do that, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t weigh down on her, having to take care of katherine as if she was a little kid.

the thought troubles katherine and she curls into a tiny ball, feeling utterly miserable.

jane quietly and slowly climbs the stairs towards katherine’s room. she moves her hand to open the door but pulls back at the dead silence in the room.

there are no sobs, no audible tears, nothing. it’s just quiet.

she raises her hand and gently raps her knuckles against the wood.

“kitty-kat?” she quietly calls. “it’s mama. can i come in?”

there’s no answer, so jane knocks again, slightly louder this time in case katherine has headphones in.

“kitty-kat?”

when there’s no answer again jane panics slightly. she pushes the door open and enters the room, immediately scanning the room in case katherine is hurt or unconscious.

she’s taken aback, however, to see katherine sitting at her desk, facing away from the door. she approaches slowly, unsure of what’s going on.

“love?”

katherine doesn’t answer, looking down at some papers she’s writing quickly away at.

“kat, love,” jane says again, quietly. “you’re scaring me. what’s going on?”

katherine barely turns her head enough to look at jane. there are no tears in her eyes, no redness in her cheeks.

“hey,” she greets somewhat nonchalantly, “just making a list of stuff i need to purge, that’s all.”

“stuff you... what?” jane asks, confused. she takes a few steps closer and looks over katherine’s shoulder at what she was writing.

it was indeed a list, with too many things to count written on it. before she has a chance to read it properly, though, katherine turns to her properly.

“yeah, i was thinking of doing a spring clean, you know? making room for some new stuff.”

“we just got all this stuff, love,” jane counters gently, pointing to a few of the assorted knick-knacks and small decorations katherine had put at the top of the list.

she shrugs. “i think it’s time for a change, that’s all.” katherine looks down at the list then back to jane. “some of this stuff,” katherine says, an unnameable emotion in her words, “i think i’m a little old for, don’t you?”

at those words, jane suddenly realises what this is all about.

“oh, love,” she says softly. “you’re not too old for it.”

“yeah, because every adult has a unicorn snow globe,” katherine half-snorts, although there isn’t much humour in it. “it’s not because of... what the reporter said today, though. i just fancy a change, that’s all.”

jane can tell katherine is lying.

what the reporter said had an impact on her, as much as she’s saying it doesn’t.

“well,” jane says, “just because not every adult has a unicorn snow globe, doesn’t mean you can’t.”

she walks over and picks it up, gives it a shake, and watches the glitter swirl around. “it’s fun, kitty-kat, and if you like it then there’s no reason to get rid of it.”

katherine brings her feet up to sit cross-legged on the desk chair and she rests her chin on her hands.

“people will think it’s weird, though.”

“i promise you, kat,” jane says gently but seriously, “more adults have childlike habits than you think. nobody is a hundred percent serious and mature all the time.” she bites back the thought on her tongue; that katherine didn’t get to be a child for most of her young life, and if anyone has earned the right to act immature for her age then it was katherine.

katherine sighs and looks around, critically eyeing every coloring book, every unicorn knick-knack, and every pink-dripping item in the room.

it has to go, she decides.

then, a moment later, she makes another realization. jane is going to fight this on her tooth and nail, so if katherine is going to do this, make herself a better adult, she needs to push jane out.

katherine gets to her feet. “well,” she says as jovially as she can, “i think it’s time to get started.” she puts her hands on jane’s shoulders to steer her towards the door. “so if you’ll excuse me, i need some room to work.”

“but kitty-kat-” jane starts, and katherine cuts her off.

“it’s okay, mum, i’ve got this.” she manages to steer the still-protesting jane out of her room and closes the door, letting out a quiet sigh.

she glances around at all the childish things she’s let clutter her room for too long. then, with a certainty she doesn’t quite feel inside, she picks up a plastic bag and begins the process of packing away everything that could be considered immature or babyish.

she packs up a nearly-scary majority of her things. little heart-covered notebooks, anything with unicorns or bears or pink on it, and even the picture frame that housed a picture of her and jane curled on the couch together (she kept the picture, though, mentally planning when she’d go to the store and get a new frame).

then, she turns to the bed, where her entire stuffed animal collection sits, looking at her with what katherine always thought of as love.

now, however, she sees the plastic shells in place of eyes and begins to pack them in the bag until there’s only one left:

the pink bear from all those months ago on her birthday with jane.

she stares at the bear for almost a full minute, unsure of what to do. it was pretty much the epitome of the childish behaviours and items she was trying to leave behind, but the thought of discarding it almost brings her to tears.

she sits down on the bed next to the bear and picks it up, mind uncertain.

---

after being shut out of katherine’s room, jane makes her way downstairs, preoccupied with the thought of how to stop katherine from doing this. she doesn’t know how to make katherine understand that her little childish quirks are part of what makes her kat, that throwing them away isn’t going to do anything but make her miserable.

jane tries to busy herself by wiping down the kitchen counters, then the tables by the couch, but is stopped by the picture on the table. she knows kat has a matching one upstairs in a little frame with silver stars.

it suddenly strikes jane that katherine probably threw it out.

she picks up the picture and frame and holds it close, as if holding it will keep katherine from making this irreparable decision.

she suddenly hears the sound of footsteps hurrying down the stairs, then the front door opening. from the sounds of it, katherine makes a few trips from her room to outside and back again before the front door closes and the telltale sound of her bedroom slamming shut rings through the house.

jane looks out the front window to see several plastic bags bundled up by the rubbish bin, and before she can stop herself jane rushes out and picks one up. she opens it, seeing pink immediately, and her fears are confirmed.

with a sigh, she picks up another bag and begins carrying them to the small shed at the side of the house. she couldn’t let katherine throw all these things away, not when she’d regret it.

it takes her a few minutes before all of katherine’s discarded belongings are packed safely in the shed. hopefully soon, jane thinks, she can give them all back when katherine wants them.

out of the last bag, jane pulls the pink bear. she also pulls out the yellow, patched-up blanket she gave katherine during one of their first nights together. jane won’t let them rot in the shed, especially since she’s sure katherine will come looking for them soon.

she stows them in her closet, safe and warm. once she does that, she makes her way back to katherine’s room.

“kitty-kat?” she calls as she gently knocks. “can i come in?”

there’s footsteps on the other side, then the door opens.

“hey, mum,” katherine smiles, although it doesn’t reach her eyes. “what’s up?”

jane glances past her into katherine’s room. it seems incredibly bare now, the walls blank and the bed devoid of its usual menagerie of stuffed animals. it sends a pang to jane’s heart, as well as an anger that the reporter’s comments had hurt katherine so much.

“hey, kat,” jane says softly, yet casually as possible. “how’s the cleaning going?”

katherine smiles again, half-heartedly. “i got it all out. everything i wanted to get rid of.”

jane formulates a half of a plan as she gently pushes into the room. “where’s your bear, kat?” she looks over to her with faux wide eyes. “did you get rid of it?”

katherine doesn’t answer, instead dropping jane’s gaze and staring down at her socks; which, she realises with a pang, were the exact same shade of pink as her bear.

“love?” jane prompts, and katherine’s bottom lip starts to tremble.

neither of them say anything for several more seconds, the silence only broken by the quiet sniffle katherine tries her best to hide. she gives a tiny nod, hands fidgeting with the ends of her sleeves.

jane reaches over, cupping katherine’s cheek with a gentle hand as she sees the bear in her closet in her mind’s eye.

“do you want him back, kitty-kat?”

jane looks behind her again, pretending to notice the absence of the blanket. “your blanket too, love?” she knows she’s probably making kat guilty, but she can’t think of any other ways to help katherine see that without her childlike tendencies, she really isn’t the same person at all.

“I...” katherine mumbles, the telltale wobble of her voice warning of tears. “i don’t need them any more.”

her voice couldn’t sound any less convincing and katherine seems aware of it too. she suddenly sinks down to the floor, sitting with her knees brought up to her chest.

“i can’t want them,” she chokes out. “it’s pathetic.”

“it’s not pathetic, love,” jane assures her. she feels horrible about what she did, what she had to do, but it might just have worked. jane sits down across from katherine, cross-legged, trying to appear inviting. “it makes you you, love.  as you’re perfect, just the way you are.”

“but i’m an adult,” katherine whimpers. “i should be more mature.”

“there is no ‘should’ or ‘shouldn’t’, kitty-kat,” jane says gently. “you don’t need to try and force yourself to be something you’re not. there’s nothing wrong with needing your bear or having a particular nickname if that’s what you like, if it makes you comfortable. all i want is for you to feel as safe and comfortable as possible, and for that to happen you need to be true to yourself. does that make sense, love?”

katherine shakes her head, wrenching her hands back from where jane reached for them. “i need to be independent,” she whispers faintly. “i can’t depend on you for everything.” she looks up at jane, meeting her eyes with a guarded look. “how will i ever function without you, if i can’t even go a day?”

“that will come with time, kat,” jane says softly. “think about how much more independent and outgoing you’ve got over the past year.”

“have I?” katherine asks hesitantly, and jane nods.

“so much more, love. and that doesn’t affect how many stuffed toys or pink unicorn pyjamas you have. and being independent doesn’t mean you have to stop needing your mum sometimes either,” she taps the tip of katherine’s nose gently with her index finger.

katherine crinkles her nose at the contact. but then she smiles, a tiny, shy smile. “i love you, mum,” she whispers.

“and i love you, kitty-kat,” jane quietly answers.

she stands up and exits the room, then returns a moment later, pink bear and yellow blanket in her hands.

“would you like these back, my love?”

katherine nods shyly, reaching out her arms and making grabby hands for them. she doesn’t even bother thinking about how jane had them to hand so quickly; it just makes sense to her that jane would know she’d want them back.

jane hands the bear back to katherine who hugs it tightly to her chest, then sits down next to katherine and drapes the blanket over both of them as best she can.

the blanket is soft, as always, and katherine is soothed by the familiar scent of jane’s clean detergent that clings to everything she washes.

“i love you just the way you are, kitty-kat,” jane says quietly. she jokingly tickles the bear’s head, then presses a kiss to katherine’s cheek, her temple, and quickly pecks her nose. “mama loves you, always.”

katherine giggles softly at the kisses, nose scrunched up as she gives a soft grin.

“love you too, mama,” she says. she shuffles closer to jane and leans against her, resting her head on jane’s shoulder. “in this life or any other,” she adds, and jane wraps an arm around katherine gently.

“that’s right, love. in this life or any other.”

[hoopdiddies]

I'm Not Over You // Ben Hardy x Reader (Part 8)

A/N: Ayoooo. Hey guys, here's part 8 and I'm so sorry if the previous chapters kind of frustrated you. I didn't really mean for it to but I hope you enjoy this one. I'll be posting 9 tomorrow or the day atfter. Thanks again for your feedbacks, y'all motivate me a lot ^^ ♥ (My Wi-Fi has prejudice against tumblr rn)

Summary: You had always loved Ben ever since you two met in university and became the best of friends. That feeling went out like a candle flame when the two of you parted ways until he re-entered your life...but this time with someone who has already occupied his heart.

Warnings: Angst, bois. ANGST (I cried like a sucker during one part I wrote 😔) mention of blood, yet again drinking, some speckles of fluff, and unnecessary dialogue if you look closely enough :^ I feel like a terrible writer today

WC: 4k I think?

Tags: As always my taglist is always open uwu

@haendel-me-with-care

@mrsdoradominguez-barnes

@mickmoon

@lakef

@mrsmazzello

@valeriecarolinaw

@queen-turtle-boiii

@hardzzellos

"You look...beautiful." Ben's comment is indeed one thing to start the night. It's not like he's never told you that before–it's just the tone in which he has said it in is...different. A foreign tone never been released from his lips until you. You look up at him through your lashes, giving him a slanted smile accompanied by a bubbly chuckle. "Thanks. You smell nice too."

The corner of his eyes crinkle as his curving lips push them up. As expected, Rosy chimes in between you and Ben almost too quickly, the blurry speed in which she has arrived in making you gasp. "Excuse me, babe. You got interviewers on your tail and I- oh," her brows shoot up upon seeing you, seemingly haughty eyes flicking up and down your outfit in mild contempt.

"Surprised to see you here as well." The smile plastered on her face couldn't be any more forced than it is.

Girl, chill. Anti-aging soaps are not easy to manufacture these days. You begin holding your breath to prevent yourself from bursting into a fit from hearing that thought ring in your head. You shrug, garnering the guts to shift on your heightened stance and lean in an inch close.

"You're not the only one with a celebrity date."

You turn around too early to gauge her reaction, finally exhaling from holding your breath too long. You can finally conclude that she's had an effortless transition from being benign to far from being benign. The smoothest one-eighty you've ever witnessed. You remember her clearly being downright considerate of you the first time you met her yet now is a whole different story. You wonder if she was actually ever considerate.

As the boys and Lucy indulge in brief interviews, you stand behind the scenes and get the first-class chance of conversing with Brian. He's readily the coolest person in the house right now, bantering with you every once in three, fascinating topics. How fortunate are you to be in the spot a million Queen fans would die for but of course, you don't want to leave out Roger who - by a landslide - makes you wish you could wheeze and snort all you want if you weren't in a luxury event such as the Oscars. He seemed intimidating for you at first but as he joined in your talk with Brian, things escalated real quickly.

With the pre-ceremony interviews and the clinking of champagne glasses dampening, you begin hunting for your seats in the theatre.

Before you know it, you are informed that only a specific line of people are given exclusivity for the seats. And it shocks you that Joe, Allen, Ben and Gwilym are not given that card when in fact they were part of the very film that brought forth a new generation of fans.You shake your head disappointingly albeit contented that Rami, Lucy, Brian and Roger and their wives are part of the exclusivity.

Utterly determined to know the results - by Joe's 'sovereign' vote - the rest of you hang around in the waiting area, focusing on the ceremony rights shown on TV. Quietly sitting through the results, you all whoop and applaud at the mention of Bohemian Rhapsody obtaining three awards straight– your cheers amping up a notch as Rami brings home the 'Best Actor' award. Joe begins filming your reactions for Instagram, zooming into Gwilym, Ben and Allen's faces for most of the video. You throw your head back in laughter at how goofy the boys look; a bunch of men in their 30's bouncing up and down with one of them documenting the entire episode. At one point, Gwilym yanks as you in for a group hug, mercilessly crushing you in between their muscles– the disorienting experience now being something you wish you would never undergo again.

As Rami's thank you speech unfolds, you pay attention closely. The sentimentality of him lovingly thanking Lucy for being his anchor after dedicating his award to Freddie Mercury is just overwhelming and you wish you could tear up but your mascara would be waste. You're certain that made Brian and Roger emotional as well.

An hour after the ceremony, you all head down to the Vanity Fair after party in the same limo you had arrived in with every single person in the group eager to get the night progressing. Regardless of saying that these type of parties are not up to your speed, you try to get along with the evening and revel in what you know would be your last night with them. Sadly enough, Roger and Brian had to skip out on this with rough schedules on their hands. The moment they walked out of the place, they spent nearly half an hour congratulating the boys and having other celebrities congratulate them.

As you are seated across Ben and Rosy, you can't help but notice him acting a little distant from her. She's all nuzzled up against his arm and he is nowhere close to returning the favor. He's just...lost in thought, staring out the tinted window. It's still early to assume that in all the hours you were within a close range to them, Ben only ever acted aloof, giving her attention when the situation required it.

Perhaps a lover's tiff took place?

"Yeah, I'm wondering the same thing too." Mimicking your position, Joe calling you back to Earth makes you gasp a little. You close your eyes and look at your fingers blankly after recovering, sighing. "I think we should end all this pretending. It was simply a cop-out in the first place."

"I know," he whispers audibly enough for only you to hear, running his fingers through his fiery, red hair, "you should probably come clean soon enough before you leave."

And that you will. At least, you'll try.

In your defense, you thought the after party would host a fancy banquet but seated around with celebratory drinks -considerable with something classy - and attendees breaking down on the dance floor is a rather okay scene as well. As long as you don't end up like the night you were invited out for a drink with your colleagues, you should be fine for the most part.

The boys and Lucy have fully immersed themselves in the beat of the music while you've decided to remain stationary with one glass of wine, the only glass you'll be having for the rest of the party.

The entire time you gawk at them amusingly as they break out their dance moves, your eyes always find their way to Ben, who makes you snort painfully from all his antics as he moves along with Joe. They're a mess with their ties and buttons undone from all the movement and the sight inspires you to stay put.

But oh dear lord, can Ben dance like an uncle.

Keeping your attention on them, a descending weight sinks down next to you. You pay no mind to whoever it is but do as her voice interrupts your thoughts. "I hope your eye is on the right person, honey." You click your tongue in exasperation, turning your body towards Rosy and her developing, bitchy tendencies, scoffing as you place your drink down to set things straight with her. "First of all, what did I ever do to you to deserve this kind of talk?"

She smacks her lips together at you, simpering. "You didn't think I'd notice?"

"What are you talking about?"

Her almond eyes narrow as if she's trying pin you down with a warning. "Please, don't act like I never noticed. You're overstepping that boundary between you and your best friend- my fiance." Okay, so she's noticed. But your neutralized expression is not going to be giving away anything.

You incline your head to one side in hopes that the facade you're pulling would decompress her suspicion. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Ben is like my brother. "

Grabbing her drink from the table, she sighs and stands up, hands firm on her hips and face silhouetted under the beaming light nevertheless giving you a transpiercing glower in the manner of seeing through the makeshift barrier you've pulled up. "He better be. Try backing off every once in a while when I'm around."

To your dismay, you snap inside, whipping your head up at her and replying sharply to make the message crystal clear. "Rosy, you have no idea." Unable to withstand the atmosphere you're in, you put great emphasis on your words and snatch your drink, walking out to the mini garden to finish what's left of your wine without having to bear being around her.

The question is unadulterated and obvious– bold and italicized if you wish to give it a stretch and clarify it.

Why is Ben still with her?

Is he that clueless not to realize it?

You don't want to pry the answer out yourself but ruminating on it, Rosy pulling off a full one-eighty only when Ben's at an appropriate distance for her to squeeze you between her fingers is just about good as a reason as anything. Your unwavering feelings for Ben are clearly perceived by her– from the way you had reacted the day he introduced you both to each other to not so long ago.

You wonder if Ben ever took heed of her growing attitude towards you.

Finishing your wine in one, immediate, swig, you place it down on the marble surface before you with your fingers cradling the stem of the glass– relishing the spicy liquid flushing down your throat.

At the extent of overexerting themselves, Joe and Gwilym flop down back on their seats like jelly, tuckered out from the unconventional combination of alcohol and unsteady movement. Panting like a dog who had just participated in a marathon, Joe shrugs out of his blazer and tosses it over his shoulder, silently wishing the ice in the bucket that held the bottle of wine would save him from the grinding heat of the wine he had just about five minutes ago.

"Mate, you're deep in the heat." Gwilym comments as it is followed by a gentle laugh on how Joe's glistening in sweat under the dimming lights. He hands him a partially bland look before wiping his forehead with his handkerchief. Lucy and Rami are situated at other end of the place enjoying a chat with another party of people meanwhile Ben and Rosy are nowhere near any of them. Until, of course, they reappear from God knows where and Ben suddenly asks Joe where you've gone.

"I-I don't know." He says after a hefty sigh. Somewhat eager to find you, Ben begins excusing himself from Rosy whom which he has spiked a bitter reaction from for sharing his supposed time for her with you. Fed up and jealous in the slightest, Rosy snaps at him.

"Okay Ben, why do you always have to skip in between minutes to hang out with her even when we're together?"

He pauses from turning around completely and sighs. "She's my friend, babe."

Unwilling to accept his statement, she claims. "Well your friend is getting in the way of what was supposed to be our time together! Can't you set aside a limited time for her?! " This has alarmed Joe and Gwilym but it isn't their business to butt in and stop a quarrel from breaking out. Unless it turns physical, which is doubtful to happen. Ben, a little frustrated but still tolerant of her ongoing skittish behavior, tries to reassure her. "I know that, alright? But something's been bothering her for days and I just want to make sure she's doing alright."

"Can't you leave the worrying to Joe? He's her bloody boyfriend anyway!"

Wagging his forefinger at Rosy, Joe grumbles as he is not having any of her talk, scrunching his brows at her.

Grabbing her shoulders gently, Ben tries to relieve her of tension and assures her once more, but with a well-known fact she obviously still doesn't accept. "Joe's a little drunk. She's like...a sister to me," it really took him an abrupt pause to say 'sister', "besides, you're my fiancee. There's nothing to be jealous about."

"Why does she still have to be a part of your life? Our life?" Now that's a question that has just shifted Ben to a farther side. His brows knit together in momentary disbelief, unable to take her words in a good light. "God, Rosy! She's been around for so long! At least make an effort to accept her!" Like a slap to her conceitedness, Ben turns on his heels and walks out to find you. Leaving Rosy a steaming mess of insecurity.

However slightly drunk, Joe mutters to himself as he makes sure neither Gwilym or especially Rosy hears his words stumble out in a whisper. "You've grown a pair, Ben. You've grown a pair."

You've been outside for nearly half an hour; wine glass empty and your hair, along with the skirt of your dress, drifting along the harmless breeze and the waning moon spilling some light from behind the shaded clouds. Though there were a couple of people that found their way here to get some respite not too long ago, you're just glad to have this space to breathe in from the draining background of the party.

As you lose yourself in thought, a certain voice brings you back to reality.

"Nice night out, huh?"

Turning around slowly, you are met with the cool, forest green irises that you've grown to never tire of seeing. "I'm surprised you're still well-kept in that suit despite the scene back in there. " You give in to a chuckle, your smile pulling Ben to approach your side leisurely. "It's my Oscars suit. Something worthy of protecting."

"Hah!"

As he rests his elbows on the surface next to you, the distance between your skins makes you a tad bit anxious. Comfortable silence falls upon you both– for Ben at least, it's tolerable however you're not taking it well, not even in the slightest. You rub your hands together and sigh, prompting Ben to finally ask you.

"You alright? You've been tensing up lately."

You nod, closing your eyes and opening them afterwards. "This dress is just depleting me of bodily warmth." Half a lie told by you. Acting on his thoughts, Ben begins taking his blazer off but you stop him mid-shrug. "Keep it on. You look better with it on."

"This would look better on you, you're obviously freezing." He's really keen on keeping you warm but you're just as so in letting him keep it on. "I'm serious. Keep it on. I'm fine."

What can he do but just give in? When you're serious, you're serious. He lifts his shoulder in half a shrug, ducking his head as an idea flickers in his head like a bulb. He wants to relive something that has been lost through the years and it's only right that he does...now that you have less than a day to disappear from his life completely.

"Y/N..." He muses gently. You raise your brows at him in question, taken by surprise that he has his hand held out to you. Bewildered, you raise your finger to ask what on Earth he's doing. "What- what are you doing?"

He licks his bottom lip and the smile on his face becomes bashful but certain. "What else does it look like I'm doing, silly girl? Asking you to dance."

You're sorry that you couldn't keep a snort at bay. "Pfft. Ben, I think you're asking the wrong girl."

"Just let me dance with my best friend."

"Wow! That's noble of you," your chuckles can not be contained, even so much as restraining yourself from letting the blush spread throughout your face. But he has the fragments of what was once your heart, so why wouldn't you? You slip your hand in his and the grin on his face widens. "There we go. Easy does it." He breathes out, his voice getting gravelly. You hit him softly on his chest for cooing, at the same time realizing that his voice becomes that way only and only when he's nervous– something uncommon between you both. As his hands find home on your waist, you throw your arms around his neck, laughing at how awkward yet funny it feels. What a huge nod to how you danced with him on Homecoming.

"You're so weird sometimes. You got your fiancee, why don't you dance with her?" Getting used to the sting of referring to Rosy, you question anyway. He initiates with a sway before responding. "I already have. But, " he diverts his heavy-lidded eyes from staring off the distance to yours and suddenly, it feels like you're home, "I want to finish that Homecoming dance."

You find yourself speechless as you shift your unflinching gaze at him and he at you, your bodies swaying along the concrete and in perfect sync, coincidentally to the sudden change in music from inside, compared to the bittersweet night you had before the day that parted you both. Thin silence hangs in the atmosphere but only because you are looking at each other in a way you never have in your entire lives.

Instinctively, you break your gaze from his and rest your head on his chest, your hair falling into your face as your eyes screw shut. You hear his heart skip a beat, unusually in the same manner yours always has. Feeling your head follow the rise and fall of his chest tickles you inside– temporarily making you forget about the pain of soon letting him go and producing a sense of safety.

Maybe it's because of exhaustion? You wonder. He doesn't hesitate to stroke your hair and revel in the moment as well, easing you in closer to his body without breaking the sway. "You'll be there on my wedding day, right?" He asks nervously, his question pulling you back to the harshest reality.

You open your eyes slowly, your lips trembling as you let out the saddest sigh, feeling your chest tighten from the anxiety of soon telling him the truth.

"Y/N?" Your tensed-up body alarms him and so he breaks away and lifts your chin up lightly, being met with glossy and regretful eyes. His messy brows drawing together in slight worry. "What's wrong?"

Everything.

However uneager to push him away, you do, escaping his warm embrace. "Ben, I..."

He's dreading for your answer, painfully anticipating for the best or the worst to the point where his hands are lubricating with sweat.

You swallow the lump that has hardened in the back of your throat, pressing your lips together to prevent a sob from escaping and shunning his prying stare. "I can't..."

Joe's half-assed predicted, worst case scenario is slowly unfolding.

"What are you saying? You're not- you're not going...to be there?"

You bite down on your lip hard enough to make it swell, shaking your head and casting a sideways glance.

"Why?"

Tell the truth. Just tell him and you're either getting a support or another jab to the heart.

"Y/N, please! Tell me why!"

"I'm leaving, Ben!" The words didn't seem to stumble or carelessly flop from your lips, in fact it speared through him clean thereby catching him off guard. His eyes have fallen gravely, lips parted due to shock.

"I got into a medical school I had previously applied for. And I'm leaving," you snap your eyes shut and open them in tears once you've looked up at him, "on your wedding day."

"Why didn't- why didn't you ever tell me?" He's pleading for your explanation, barely clinging on to the belief that you would always tell him things.

You don't answer as you are battling to muster up the courage to say it.

"Y/N, please! You never tell me anything these days! And this- this news, it's important! You're leaving on the day I need you the most, and you never bothered to squeak a word about it! Not a single, bloody word! Why?!" He's racked up with disbelief and apparently, anger. Eyes rimmed, clouded with mixed emotions and face full-blown red from the pressure.

He grabs you by the shoulders and pleads heartbreakingly, his lively voice reduced to but a whisper. "Why..."

"I-" You're still holding back.

"Say it! "

"You'd soon forget about me, Ben!" You inhale sharply as you add, croaks present in your voice while you take two steps further away from him as you lament. "I'm hopelessly in love with you, you idiot! I've always been. I try- I try to brush off every single prick that stems out every minute I realize that you already belong to someone else..."

"Y/N-"

"I figured not telling you would help me let go. And it's the only way I can...because screw you for being a clueless, irreplaceable bloke! I can't imagine my bloody life without you in it! I don't think I can ever love anybody else...but you, "

"Y/N..."

You don't let him finish and achingly throw your hands to your chest as a gesture, pounding your chest thrice as you're finally wearing your heart on your sleeve. "I can't blame you for being oblivious to my feelings. You're committed to Rosy...and as much as I want to see you happy, I don't want to stand idly by and- and feel this way when you've pledged your heart to her...I want to forget and for you to forget me," As the warm tears you've held back for so long roll down your cheeks, you hug yourself through the pain, "I want you to be happy without worrying how I'd feel. And disappearing from your life, is the only way I know how..."

"Y/N, please, don't say that- don't do this...you can't do this...you c-can't..." With hands shaking, he strides towards you to haul you in back into his arms but you take an agonizing step away, stopping him in his tracks. "I have to. I...I want to. It hurts so much, Ben. It always has but promise me," even if you have taken a step away, you take it upon yourself to take those steps close to him and cup his cheek with a cold hand, "promise me you'll revel in that happiness. It's going to hurt being away from you. But it's going to hurt even more if I stay. And watch...my best friend grow old with someone else." Finally rendering him wordless, you shake your head and whisk past him back into the party which has died down a bit, leaving him a pondering mess out under the bleak sky.

"How could I be happy without you..."

You'd gladly do anything to go back home right now. The weight of what just took place is crushing you and the need to escape is fuming. But the thing is, Ben was never one to let you go easy.

He never did and possibly never will.

He sniffles and inhales sharply, jogging in after you and calling out your name amidst the constant noise and chatters. "Y/N, wait!"

You reach your table just in time to see everyone still gathered around with drinks raised and laughs released but you have to excuse yourself deliberately. "Y/N? Where have you been? What's the rush?" Lucy notices your hastened movement and places her hand on your tense shoulder. You snap your head at her with your purse in your grasp, shaking your head and apologizing that you have to leave, forgetting to rid your eyes of tears; the sight of you amping up Lucy's concern therefore leading you into her embrace. "Oh my god, are you okay? What happened?"

"Y/N!"

Ben's distant but audible voice echoing through the place just sends you panicking inside. "I'm so sorry, Luce. I have to go."

"Y/N, wait! What's wrong?"

Just as the rest could react to Lucy calling out for you and Ben dashing past them to catch up, you've already disappeared into the crowd, headed out the theatre to take a cab ride back to the hotel. Relentless to let you go, Ben follows your trail, spurring a quick frenzy from the rest and having them pursue Ben in return. Once you reach the outskirts of the pavements, you don't think twice before crossing the highway with your focus hardened before you.

Gasping for air upon exiting the theatre, Ben glances around in haste and finally spots you marching down the street oblivious to your surroundings despite treading along the pedestrian lane. His eyes widen in dread and acting on a fight or flight reaction, he yells for your attention as he speeds down the street to pull you in or rather save you from a possibility of getting hurt with all the rushing vehicles and careless drivers. "Y/N! Y/N!"

The boys, Lucy and Rosy arrive outside just in time to witness Ben race towards your direction and in a moment of feeling time slow down, you feel your heart in your throat at the late flash of nearing headlights, to add a heavy force propelling you off your feet and onto the other side of the road. What gets you up from the ground are the mixed screams of a familiar bunch and the sight of a bloodied man in white laying unconscious on the cold surface of the road.

White noise suddenly fills your ears instead of your own voice as you scream out his name.