#i haven’t seen her in twelve years and i haven’t spoken to her in… probably about that long

[fingertipsmp3]

You know when I cancelled therapy and immediately knew I’d regret it and probably be back within the week? Yep.

[notanotherinfjblog]

The types as strangers I wish I had known (version 4)

Previous versions: One, two, three

INTJ: She was the first person to show me kindness in a new place. Moving across the country all alone in the middle of a pandemic is not exactly the ideal start of your first real job. So she took it all on herself to take me by the hand, to organise all the things that I had no clue about. She gave me a little tour around the workplace, recommended me places to eat once the pandemic is over, asked me about how I was settling in, remembered little things I mentioned. She was the only person not working from home when I first arrived and so it was just the two of us. She was quiet and reserved as most people here seem to be, and she was awkward in every way when interacting with me. But she tried so hard and maybe it’s just me projecting, but she said her son was in the very same situation as me right now, and it felt like she tried to help me in the way she couldn’t help her son, like she wanted to take me under her wing, but not make it awkward, and then actually making it slightly awkward in doing so. Her heart just felt warm and so did mine when I said thank you.

ENTJ: Everyone knows the classic character of a self-righteous doctor in a hospital show. You know that one. The one that everyone thinks may be hard-working and clever, but heartless and uncaring and egocentric, but a few episodes down the line you start to see that there is more going on underneath the rude attitude. I’ve always believed this to be a stereotypical depiction that is more of a caricature until I met her. She was a doctor at a hospital I stayed in, and damn, she was just like that. She stormed into the rooms, rolled her eyes at a patient whose German was bad, even though she had a thick accent herself, couldn’t be bothered to commit to polite standards of communication like saying hello or thanks, and she didn’t care to wait for just a second when a nurse was in her way and pushed her aside instead. Especially two young nurses were exasperated with her and complained about her as soon as she stormed out of the room. They really made me feel like I had gotten myself into a hospital show as a patient, it was fantastic. And I have to say, even though this young doctor had all of these flaws, she was the only one that actually talked to the patients and explained what was going on, hell she even talked to that woman’s daughter on the phone for a few minutes because the woman didn’t understand the language. Just like on tv, she may have been rude, but at least she seemed like a good doctor.

INTP: My university department held a conference and I was responsible for making sure that all these professors and PhD students didn’t die from their coffee cravings, so I spent most of my time running around with giant coffee cans. And I have to admit, among all the scientists that were roaming the halls, I couldn’t help but stare at him. He was a PhD student from the Netherlands and there was just something about him that did not fit in. You know how professors are often a bit eccentric or strange by normal standards (which explains why we had to explain to an unspeakable amount of them how a coffee can works), so you’d imagine he’d fit right in. But he didn’t. He was his own universe. While everyone was networking, he was studying the research posters in silence. Not because he was too shy, he seemed very comfortable in his own skin. He just didn’t seem to care all that much about other people. I got to listen to a few talks and as he sat in front of me, I saw him play a video game. At an international conference. With professors and colleagues sitting behind him. And he still managed to ask intelligent questions about the talk afterwards. No idea how. Part of me wished I could have talked to him, not because he was cute though he was, but rather because I really could not tell you what kind of person he was. Was he a good person? A bad one? Probably something in-between. But I don’t think my opinion would have fazed him all that much, since to me, he seemed like the kind of person that valued his own opinion on himself the most, and I think that’s a good thing that he’s got there.

ENTP: I had just moved to a different city in a completely different part of the country, and I had just gotten back from my first walk around town. Sounds exciting, but I got back to this unfamiliar flat that I was supposed to call home now and I was panicking. So I stepped out on the balcony hoping the cold air and the stars above could calm my nerves. But it wasn‘t them that did. I stood there in the dark and saw an elderly couple in the parking lot. The woman was in a very similar mental state as me. She was running around their car and was talking about all the things they still had to take care of and things they‘d need, but had forgotten, and her voice got higher and shakier with every word. And then her husband just went and hugged her. She kissed him goodbye three times and every time she did, he let out a little laugh, calm and gentle. He pat her on the back and said that everything was going to be okay, that they would see each other again tomorrow. She kissed him goodbye one last time before she drove away, and I stood there alone in the dark and thanked the universe that I was there at the right time to hear this old man‘s words. For some reason he always seems to appear every time I‘m feeling low and strikes up a little chat with me. And every time he leaves, I have already forgotten what I was sad about.

INFJ: I think everyone pursuing an academic career has this one hero, this one scientist that lit the spark in their heart to dedicate their life to science just like them. I know I have one. So when I started an internship at his lab with one of his colleagues, I didn‘t really expect to meet him. I had seen him around once in a while, yes, but who was I to approach a stranger to tell him what his work meant to me? But then came the plenary meeting that was meant to get more people of the lab to get to know one another - and he approached me. He sat down next to me, asked me about my academic past and future, asked about my current project with his colleague. And I still can‘t believe it. Only a little girl singing in the church choir who is suddenly approached by Beyoncé can hope to imagine what it felt like. He was an internationally renowned scientist, he would have had every reason to look down on the rest of us. Many of them certainly do. But here he was, talking to a little intern from abroad. He was such a genuinely nice person, was sweet and slightly awkward, he even mirrored my weird head nodding that I always do when all the words have left me. He felt like a kindred spirit. I didn‘t tell him what these few minutes talking to him meant to me though part of me wishes that I did, yet still he invited me to the meetings of his research team even though I was not a part of it. And when I came and sat down, he turned around, smiled at me and turned away again, and I can‘t tell you how insane it feels that all of this actually happened.

ENFJ: I’ve written about him before and I will write about him forever. I remember the day our eyes first met in that crowded school corridor almost half of my life ago. I don’t know why neither of us could look away that day, why neither of us could ever look away again from this day on. Somehow our eyes always found each other. I remember the snowy day at the train station so many years later, how he stood there alone in the cold and how he slowly walked towards me, his eyes glued to his feet that abruptly stopped right next to mine. And yet he stayed silent. As did I. So we stood there for an hour waiting for our train, quickly averting our eyes every time they came close to meeting. I remember him looking back at me over his shoulder once we got off the train. He seemed quite flustered that I was about to find out that he had parked his car right next to mine and so he fled. Both of us kept parking our cars next to each other, even when we didn’t see each other for months. But I could never follow him out. He was my own personal mystery. I spent countless nights staring at the ceiling wondering what it was, this strange thing that was going on between us, this little secret that we shared, and I wondered who he really was inside, not who he pretended to be in front of his friends. He was like an island in their midst, always a bit detached, always tucked away behind a smile. Soon twelve years will have passed and still we’ve never spoken a word, but somehow these dark brown eyes still feel more familiar than my own, these eyes that always seemed to look right into my soul. I could have stared at them my whole life. I honestly have no idea what it is that is tying me to him, what it is that I felt back then and what I’m feeling right now. Maybe I’ll never know. I haven’t seen him in three years, but I know our paths will cross again some day. I can feel it in my bones. This story is not over yet. Maybe then we’ll finally be ready to meet properly. Maybe then we’ll finally be able to speak. 

INFP: I happened to stand at the window when I saw the new postman approach our letterbox, and so I watched him throw letters and magazines inside - and stop. He moved his head closer to the box and a frown appeared on his face. He backed off, wanted to leave, came back again and didn’t seem to know what he was supposed to do. So he rang the doorbell. As I opened the door, there he was, shy and with slight panic in his eyes. “I’m so sorry”, he said. “There is a sign on your letterbox that you don’t want advertisements, but I saw that too late and I had already thrown it in. I’m terribly sorry. I can’t get it out of the box and so I thought, I should ask if that’s alright.” And my heart just went awwww, that’s adorable. I smiled at him and told him that it was absolutely fine. He seemed so relieved. So he went away and I closed the door.

ENFP: This is for the man with the kind, but heartbreakingly sad eyes who sometimes sits in front of the train station silently begging for money. This is for the grandparents who spent their train ride trying to teach their little grandchildren the numbers from one to five. This is for the old woman who always kneels down in the middle of the train station with her forehead pressed to the ground, keeping still for hours, enduring the devastation of thousands of people passing by without stopping. This is for the woman who knelt down next to a homeless man, who took his hand and asked how she could help him. This is for the man who made faces at the little boy sitting next to him on the train to make him laugh. This is for the anger I felt when I saw the distraught face of a 10-year-old boy coming out of the movie „1917“ at the cinema with his father. This is for the happy little puppy who lives next to the bakery where I usually grab my lunch. This is for the twenty people who decided to all speak a foreign language during a meeting with each other just because I was there too, a total stranger they had never even seen before who is bad at their native language. This is for the creep that asked me in the middle of the street at night to accompany him. This is for the two teenagers who went to buy sandwiches and coffee for a homeless woman. This is for the families I often see sitting at the train stations, sometimes with a baby in their arms, holding a sign saying „Syrian family. We are hungry, help us please.“ This is for the man who yelled at his girlfriend because she gave them some money. This is for the people who play music during everyone‘s morning commute on the train. This is for all the people who approached me speaking in French and started to laugh when I apologised for not being very good at it. This is for Paris, in all its beauty and all its ugliness. This is for humanity, in all its beauty and ugliness.

ISTJ: He was sitting alone on the train, looking out of the window while listening to something with headphones. He was a tall guy in his mid-20s, one with a full beard, long brown hair in a neat ponytail, and a t-shirt of some rock band that I had never heard of. So, I was sitting there, three meters away, minding my own business, when I suddenly heard a giggle. The entire car of the train had been quiet all this time as it usually is, so I looked up and saw this guy trying to contain his laughter. He pressed the lips together, scratched his nose in order to inconspicuously cover his mouth. I don’t know where this sudden burst of laughter came from. Maybe he was listening to an audio book and reached a funny part. Maybe he was listening to a voice message of a funny friend. Maybe he just had a very amusing thought, I don’t know. But I’ve always had a soft spot for people who randomly start laughing in public and get embarrassed about it cause it’s always, always adorable.

ESTJ: She was a PhD student at my university and she was the one who mainly organised the conference that the above mentioned INTP was attending, too. And even though she didn‘t get tired of complaining about how much work this all was, how typical it was of her boss to volunteer to hold the conference at our university and then not lifting a single finger, she was like a fish in the water, not out of it. She observed everything and everyone, immediately recognised little problems or things that could become a problem, she was constantly running around checking everything, and she kept so many things in mind, it was impressive. One of the attendees sat in a wheelchair and as soon as she noticed, she made us rebuild the entire cafeteria immediately so that everything was reachable for her. And in all the running around, all the obligatory smalltalk, all the stress, she still found the time to stand with us student helpers and joke around.

ISFJ: It was 6pm on a Friday afternoon when all of Paris was trying to get home in the middle of a train strike, so the trains that did run were even more crowded than usual. I did not enjoy sharing 5 square metres with almost 40 other people. But then he entered the train and stood right next to me, leaning against the doors without moving, looking like an intellectual in gangster clothes. We were surrounded by noise of people talking and of rails screaming, by strangers breathing onto our skin, and he just stood there unfazed by it all. He radiated calmness like I‘ve never seen anyone do before. Soon it reached me too, filled me up and left no place for any distress or anxiety. He was like an island in the storm that grew and grew and grew until all of the 40 people around him were safe. I felt safe. I don‘t think he has even the faintest clue about how special he is, but I feel like it has been a privilege to have crossed paths with him.

ESFJ: Did you ever meet someone who, on first glance, looks like the perfect example of a jock, just a short guy with bigger arms than he’s tall? But then you look again, take a closer look at him and you realise that his face has goodness written all over it. He may be horribly bad at grammar for a linguistics student and he may be a bit too sensitive for his own good, but he never made it a secret of how much of a sweetheart he really is. And in situations like these, when he talks about how emotional he got as a tutor when his student told him about a dying grandfather because he felt responsible for the student’s wellbeing, in situations like these, when he approaches my friend after a class to apologise for his harsh criticism of her presentation and to tell her that he didn’t mean it that way, to which she gets all confused because she didn’t take the slightest offence to anything he has ever said in his entire life and he mumbles that he may have to stop beating himself up about stuff like this, I just want to give him a hug and never let go. 

ISTP: I saw her on the metro during rush hour in Paris, and I immediately noticed her to be different. Everyone else always only stares at their phones or into space, everyone else always look like a tired zombie. She was not a zombie. She was leaning against the doors, shaking her leg in the rhythm of the music she was listening to. She was short and skinny, and not even her punk boots could hide that, but there was such a confidence shining out of her, a confidence in who she was that made her look like a giant. She looked like she‘s probably had it rather rough in life, but it didn‘t break her. She rose to the adversity, rose in spite of it all. She seemed to be capable of so many things. Intelligent enough to go into science if she ever wanted to, vicious enough to end someone who ever dared to cross her, warm enough to love deeply and with all her heart if she let it.

ESTP: It was a hot day and far hotter than a September afternoon ever should be. I was stuck in a traffic jam in the city, melting in my car as were so many others, waiting for that red light to finally turn green. And then he came, a young guy in an ugly shirt and with a hat on his head. He started to cross the street, but then stopped right there in the middle. And he started to juggle. In the middle of a traffic jam on a Friday afternoon, he juggled. Just before his green light turned to red, he bowed down to the cars a few times, and then jumped to the sidewalk and left. Thanks, mate, you enigmatic juggling traffic hero.

ISFP: I met him at a wedding. He was a bald man in his 70s with thick horn glasses and probably the most intimidating person I’ve ever met. Not because he was mean, but because he was so confident in himself and so observant. His gaze constantly changed direction. He took everything in that happened around him, he didn’t miss a single thing that was going on, and still he was calm and sure of himself that everyone at our table felt like they had to impress him in some way. Just by looking at him you knew he must have lived an extraordinary life and he really did. He liked talking about himself. He talked about living in the American desert, on a mediterranean island, in a Buddhist monastery, and on a cruise ship. He talked about the smell of the desert at night, about the taste of oranges picked from a tree. He talked about the people he met, about professors and musicians, about cooks and monks. He talked about how much his village loved him. But he also liked listening to others talk about their own lives. It was obvious that he treated life as an experience, as a journey that cannot be planned or imagined, only lived. When we said goodbye, he looked me right in the eye and told me that he thinks it’s great what I’m doing with my life and that he’s looking forward to meeting me again some day. It felt a bit like receiving praise from a deity. 

ESFP: He was a nurse in the accident and emergency department at the hospital and the first person to talk to me while I was waiting in front of an examination room. He was only passing by with a colleague, but he stopped the conversation when he saw me and put his hand on my shoulder. “Aw, sugarmouse, what happened to you?”, was the first thing he said to me. You know, if an unknown man in his 50s is coming towards you and calls you “sugarmouse”, you’re usually not exactly happy, but he was just an overwhelmingly non-threatening guy that called all of the nurses and doctors by kitschy nicknames and radiated warmth wherever he went. He had noticed that I was nervous, and so he came to me and tried to gently put my mind at ease and I was really grateful for it.

[peachy-panic]

Strangers

Part of Fifty-Eight Days. The timeline in this is split between directly before & after the mission-gone-wrong. This is, I think, the closest to a drabble-style chapter that I’ve managed to write, but it’s also like... not short lol. Idk. 

Not much direct whump to be spoken of here, but certainly some emotional angst. 

Grayson’s eyes scanned over the specks of neon-yellow scattered throughout gate C28, doing a mental headcount for the fourth time in the last hour. The t-shirts the church had designed for the trip were a little more than tacky, but he understood now the appeal of the color. At a glance, he could count off the members of his team in the crowded space; two seventeen-year-olds hunched over an ipad, a high school senior fast asleep across three seats, a young couple that Grayson was definitely going to need to have a talk with about sharing that blanket. 

It wasn’t until he heard a soft chuckle from his co-leader beside him that he realized his efforts were not as discreet as he thought. “I’m gonna need you to relax, Gray,” Zara said. “We haven’t lost anyone yet, I promise.”

“A trend I’m not looking to change anytime soon,” he replied, counting off three college students standing in line for coffee, and a fourth sitting on the floor near the only available outlet. “And certainly not before we’ve left American soil.”

“There’s only so far they can wander off,” she said, gesturing around. “And even then, we have plenty of time to find them, since someone—not naming names—insisted we show up at the airport three-and-a-half hours before we board.”

“International travel is a big deal,” he argued, scanning for the last few on his mental checklist. “You have to allow extra time for customs and… like, I don’t know, passport stuff. Whatever.”

“Mmm. Yeah, passport stuff. For sure.”

Grayson huffed an unamused laugh, still searching for the last yellow shirt. “Weren’t you nervous your first year as group leader?”

“Co-leader,” she corrected.

“Whatever. I think I have a healthy fear of losing track of one the actual human lives that are in our care for the foreseeable future.”

“Super healthy. Have you counted me yet?” she asked, setting her bag on the ground beside her seat. “Because I’m going to go grab a bagel or something. You want anything?”

“No, thank you,” he said, but he was distracted because, where was number twelve? He counted number ten beside the window, taking pictures of the tarmac, and eleven was sitting on the ground playing peek-a-boo with someone’s toddler, but twelve…

“Hey, have you seen Elijah?”

“Who?” Zara said distractedly, fishing for something in her purse.

“Porter?” Grayson blinked at her. She blinked back. “Okay. I’ll pretend it’s not concerning that you don’t know a member of our team less than an hour before we head into another continent,” he said. “We had twelve a little bit ago and now we’re down to eleven. Elijah is missing.”

“‘Missing’ is not the word we are going with,” she said, throwing her cross-body bag over her shoulder. “It’s entirely possible that he went to the bathroom. Or, you know, to get food or coffee. Any number of things that you should probably do if you could manage to chill out for a minute.”

He ignored her, grabbing his own bag and standing. “I’m going to look for him.”

“Dude.” She threw her hands up. “You’re supposed to be watching my stuff.”

“I’ll be right back,” he tossed over his shoulder. “Your bagel’s on me, okay?”

“Fine,” she called after him. “But if he is actually in the bathroom, you owe me coffee, too.”

***

He wasn’t in the bathroom.

In fact, Grayson had to walk fourteen gates into an entirely different terminal before he spotted him, sitting alone in an empty waiting area in his bright-yellow shirt, one knee pulled up into the seat with him. He had earbuds in—the ones that came free with a new iPhone—and when Grayson let his eyes follow the trail of the wire that draped down his front and into the pocket of his black jeans, they caught on a sliver of bare skin above his waistband. He blinked hard, tearing them away.

Elijah didn’t seem to notice his presence as he approached, but as Grayson got closer he saw that he was drawing. There was a sketch pad thrown open over his knee, his fingers in a white-knuckle grip around the mechanical pencil that flew effortlessly across the page. His head nodded along to a quick beat of which Grayson could only hear the faintest buzzing through the headphones. It was hard to ignore the way a long tendril of black hair bounced rhythmically against his cheekbone with the movement.

Grayson stopped directly in front of him, clearing his throat.

“Shit.” Elijah jolted, nearly dropping his pencil and pad as he scrambled to yank his headphones out. “Shoot, I mean. Sorry.” He quickly closed the cover of his sketchbook, then looked up at Grayson, brushing the fallen hair out of his eyes. “Am I late? I swear, I was keeping an eye on the time—”

“No,” Grayson said, checking his watch even though he knew exactly what time it was. “You’re not late, I just… um? What are you doing over here?”

“Oh.” Elijah brought his foot down from the seat, then, with the faintest tint of pink glowing in his cheeks, shifted to cross one leg over the other. “It was getting sort of loud over where we were. I just… I don’t like all the noise.”

Grayson gestured to the headphones that had fallen into his lap. “Except that noise, right?” Immediate regret. He was pretty sure he outwardly winced as soon as the words left his mouth. Awesome, Gray, what a very young and cool thing to say. “Sorry,” he added immediately, shoving his hands in his pockets. “That was lame. I didn’t mean to sound like your dad.”

“I wouldn’t know what that sounds like,” Elijah said.

His face fell. “Oh.” Now it was his turn to go pink. He took his hands out of his pockets, then put them back, suddenly unsure of what to do with this lumbering thing called his body. “Uh…”

A small smile curved up to one side of Elijah’s mouth, crinkling his skin into an impossible dimple. “Sorry. I was kidding. Well… not kidding, I guess, but… you’re fine.”

“Oh,” he said again, sounding like a broken record if broken records also produced strained imitations of a nervous laughter, which was apparently something he did now. “Okay.”

“So, I should come back to the gate?” Elijah was already starting to load up his small backpack.

“Actually…” Grayson looked at his watch again. “You probably have some time if you would rather just… hang out here for a bit.” He shrugged with the air of someone who hadn’t just been taking meticulous roll call on a quarter-hourly basis. “I get not wanting to be around the noise.”

Elijah paused, looking up at him from under that glorious swoop of hair again. Grayson felt the ground shift beneath him, just a little, which was definitely just because he hadn’t eaten yet. Probably. Maybe he should get that bagel after all. “You sure?” Elijah asked. “I don’t want to be, like, a problem.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Grayson waved him off. “I’m just being paranoid, I think. It’s my first time doing this.”

“The mission?” Elijah raised his eyebrows.

“Oh, no. I’ve been going for years,” he said, a little proudly. “This is my first time leading, though.”

“Well… you managed to track me down,” Elijah said with a shrug. “So it seems like you’re doing good so far.”

“Hah. Thanks.” Grayson rubbed the back of his neck, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge, let alone give name to, the strange edge of nervous energy that existed when he spoke to this boy. “Okay. Uh. Have fun, then. Sorry for interrupting. Just… maybe try to be back at the gate in the next half-hour?” Grayson said. “You don’t want to get stuck with a crappy seat on the plane.”

Before he could turn and head back, Elijah stiffened. “Wait, what?” he asked, paling.

Grayson frowned. “This airline doesn’t do assigned seats. It’s sort of a first-come, first-serve thing when you board. Sorry, maybe I should have explained that better in the travel memo?”

Something in Elijah seemed to deflate slightly as he sat back against his seat. “So, we have to, like… pick who we sit next to?”

It took a second, but something about the look on his face made it click for Grayson. He recognized that anxiety. And of course, it made sense. It was the same reason Elijah was probably sitting half-a-mile away from the rest of the group in the airport and why Zara hadn’t even recognized his name. Elijah didn’t know anyone here. Most of the people on this trip had grown up together, going to the same church functions and Sunday school classes since they were in diapers.

And then there was Elijah, who had only started showing up at the occasional service over the past several months, popping up in the back row every other week with the woman Grayson assumed to be his mother. They kept to themselves, usually slipping in the door a few minutes before service started and sneaking out just as quickly afterward. Grayson had tried to introduce himself a few times, inviting the both of them to lunch with his usual group of church friends after service. Neither of them had ever accepted, but they were always polite. Grayson was honestly surprised when he saw Elijah’s name pop up on the mission volunteer list at the beginning of Summer.

Now here he was, neglecting the most basic leadership duty of making sure he felt included in this strange place full of strange people.

“Hey. If you don’t have a seat partner yet, maybe we can board together?” Grayson suggested, trying to make his tone sound cool and casual.

“Oh.” Elijah blinked up at him. “You don’t have to do that.”

He smiled. “I know I don’t have to. I want to.”

Elijah looked incredulous. “Really? I thought you would want to sit with that girl you were with,” he said, shrugging. “It kind of seemed like the two of you were like… you know.”

Grayson’s eyes widened to what was probably a comically large size. “Zara?” He laughed, probably a notch too loud for the small space they were in. “No. Oh, gosh. No. Zara and I… we’re not. Absolutely not.”

“O…kay,” Elijah said. There was that hint of a smile again. That dimple. Grayson bit down on the inside of his cheek. “Well… thanks, then.”

“Sure. No problem.” Grayson nodded, hands going swiftly back in the pockets so he didn’t do something irredeemably nerdy like wave ‘goodbye.’ Instead, he turned smoothly on his heel and walked back toward Terminal C, only stopping once at the corner to cast a brief glance back at Elijah, who had gone back to nodding his head along with his music.

It wasn’t until he got back and saw Zara’s annoyed face that he realized he had forgotten her bagel.

***

TWO MONTHS LATER

The small aircraft rumbled beneath them as Grayson counted cars on the road below. They were low enough in the air, maintaining a low cruising altitude for the short flight, that he could make them out clearly from the small window; small dots of color speeding between patches of green treetops. A red one here, a white one there. Then he would blink for a second too long, the heaviness in his eyelids trying to pull him all the way under, and they would be gone. So he would begin again, finding a new dot to follow, starting the count from zero.

The double-paned glass was cool against his forehead, though it did nothing to alleviate the constant bite of pain that throbbed behind his eyes. The roar of the engine in the tiny space didn’t help, either. Every inch of his body was vibrating, but he suspected that wasn’t completely due to the mechanics of the plane.

Beside him, Elijah was asleep or pretending to be. Maybe he was just closing his eyes. They both had been offered something at the hospital to “take the edge off” for their journey into the city. Elijah had taken it without hesitation, but Grayson declined and was now only mildly regretting it. From across the small, almost non-existent aisle that separated them, Grayson could see the tension strung tight in his body; arms folded protectively over his stomach, legs pulled up onto the seat and pressed against his chest. He looked so small inside his own frame.

He remembered the way Elijah had clutched the armrest between them on the flight from America, knuckles going white during takeoff and landing, and how he had so badly wanted to reach out and cover his hand. He wished he could do the same now. It was all they had in Myles Fucking Voss’s basement—the soft, commiserate touch of your only companion in hell—so maybe it would be enough to get them through this, too.

But he didn’t try. He kept his hands firmly in his lap.

It was like a switch had been flipped. For fifty-eight days—according to the man in uniform who escorted them to the hospital—Elijah spent every last inch of himself protecting Grayson from harm. Now it was his turn. He attached himself to Elijah’s side, tensing whenever anyone got too close, looked too long, spoke too loudly in their direction.

In transit to the medical facility in the nearest city, a woman tried to usher them into separate ambulances and Grayson raised holy hell, nearly knocking over the gurney they had prepared for him. Finally, after realizing that he was only going to cause himself further damage if they continued to deny him, they allowed him to ride alongside Elijah. Beside him on the bumpy ride over, Grayson laid two fingers on his wrist, a silent question that Elijah answered immediately by clutching his hand. He held it tightly the whole way there.

Something had changed after they got to the hospital, though. They were forced to separate long enough to be examined by the doctors and their too-cold, too fast hands, and when they finally gave into Grayson’s demands to bring him back to Elijah, another switch had been flipped. This time, the switch cut all the power. Lights out. It pulled the life out of Elijah’s eyes, dissolved the palpable wire of energy that had run between them for the past two months.

It was just… gone.

When Grayson had tried to touch his hand, Elijah flinched away from him. Grayson had taken a step back, and that was that. He hadn’t tried to touch him again. 

Maybe Grayson accepted the shift in their dynamic so easily because a part of him had just been waiting for it to happen. For weeks, really, but especially over the course of the last three days, after what had happened... he had known his connection to Elijah was on borrowed time. How could it not be? He knew that at some point, something in Elijah’s brain would click into place; he would look at Grayson, truly look at him, and see. Remember. Realize. And he would pull away.

And he would be right to.

Now it seemed that the time had come, and Grayson needed to be okay with it. This was what Elijah needed, and frankly, it was what Grayson deserved. And that meant that as much as he wanted to hold his hand on this plane, to squeeze him with a desperation that said look, we’re still here, we made it, and we’re going home, a larger part of him realized that was probably the last thing he should do. More importantly, it was the last thing Elijah would want.

So he kept counting cars, hands to himself, eyes scanning the horizon every few minutes as the city drew nearer outside his window. They would be taken to a bigger airport, with all the noise and crowds that Elijah hated, packed onto an even bigger plane, and when they touched down again, they would return to familiar soil as strangers.

Grayson counted ten more before his eyelids won the battle, and he fell asleep to the purr of the engine that carried them closer to the uncertain future that awaited them in the distance.

***

TAG LIST: @mylifeisonthebookshelf @hold-him-down @distinctlywhumpthing @diyalogues @finder-of-rings @dont-touch-my-soup @wicked-whump @scp-1296 @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

[sunaswife]

Summary: It’s been five years since you’ve seen your ex, Rin. He’s still not over you and you’re not over him. When he finds out you have children he thought he didn’t have a chance. Then he finds out they’re his? All of a sudden you’re teaching Suna how to be a single dad.

🔪: Y’all my heart 🥺 ngl I kinda cried as I wrote this

Warnings: Fluff, angst I guess, drama, and cuteness twin overload

Previously Up Next Masterlist

Chapter Twelve

“Hi hi are you our grandma?” Rini said with wide eyes, you, Rin and Kauru were outside grabbing the last of the groceries and talking. It was like his mother was frozen in time, they looked exactly like her son when he was a kid, when she was still learning how to raise a tiny human.

She finally realized she was a grandmother because the looks were uncanny. “Yes I’m your grandma.” She replied and she kids ran and hugged her legs. “It’s nice to meet you, we’ve never had a grandma before but we promise to be good grandkids for you.” Rini said and Akira nodded. “What do you mean you never had a grandma before?” She asked the twins, they didn’t see the glint in her eyes. She needs all the information she can get to show her son that she’s not a good mother and he can fight for custody.

“Momma doesn’t talk to her parents. They’re mean and think she’s a dispointment.” Akira chimed in. Obviously the kid met disappointment which made sense. If Rin was a girl she’d probably do the same thing.

“Hey guys guess what grandma got!” Rin walked in, his hands full of groceries. He placed them down and pulled out the pack of the frozen Chuupets. The kids eyes widened and they ran to their dad to hand them a chuupet. “You are only getting one because you haven’t eaten dinner yet.” He said and the kids nodded. After he handed them the chuupet, they ran off. “How’s everything mom.” He looks down to see the shorter woman. “Could be better without your dog and your ex.” She answered and Suna frowned.

“At least try to get along with her? Please. She’s the mother of your grandkids and hopefully we can be together again.” He said hopefully and her eyes widened. “You wanna get back together with her.” She said almost disgusted and Rin sighed. “Yeah mom.” He replied. “You’re gonna regret it.” She hummed and Rin rolled his eyes.

“Excuse me..um...Mrs.Suna..?” You peered from behind the wall you somewhat heard their conversation but that’s a talk for another time, “What.” She raised a brow and Rin facepalmed. “When was the last time you checked the oil of your car? And your brakes?” You asked. “I don’t know. Usually we take it to a mechanic, but we’ve been busy raising someone else’s dog.” She said and eyed her son. “Mechanic? Rin nor Kauru don’t know how to do that?” You asked. “I have a sports car, no way in hell I’m fucking it up.” Rin replied.

“Is it okay for me to change the oil and the brakes? I would hate for you to get into an accident.” You asked. “Accident? You’d probably tinker with my car so I’d crash the next time I use it.” She crossed her arms over her chest. You were beyond confused, “Mom, stop.” Rin scolded and she rolled her eyes.

You left the car as is but made a mental note to ask Kauru for permission to add more oil and fix her brakes.

Other than that conversation you haven’t spoken to her the rest of the day. What bothered you was that she didn’t try to get close to the kids. You sat on the small picnic table in the backyard while Rin was throwing a chew toy across the backyard while his dog, Chewy chased it eagarly. When Rin came to the back yard he whistled causing the dog to turn its head, it stayed frozen as if not believing his owner was truly there. But eventually Rin called him and his ears perked up and he began running and whining at the same time. He tackled Rin and he fell back. Chewy licked his face and Rin was giggling with a big stupid smile on his face, you smiled lightly at the scene and Akira tugged onto your leggings to tell you that Rin was crying.

Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion and turned again to see Rin and then you saw it. The way he held on to his dog and a small tear streamed down. “Who’s a good boy? Are you a good boy?” He talked and Chewy’s tail wagged. “Alright bud, sit.” He commanded and he sat obediently. You could hear a tapping noise but it was because Chewy was so excited to see his owner. “Chewy meet your brother and sister.” Rin introduced and you started laughing. “What do you mean he’s our brother? He’s a dog.” Rini pointed out, “Same difference.” Rin shrugged and you covered your mouth to stop yourself from snorting.

“Okay get close and tell him to shake. Then shake his hand.” He instructed, Rini was first and gasped when Chewy obeyed. Earlier they got around to playing but they didn’t know their dads dog—I mean brother was trained. Akira did the same thing and she giggled. “Alrighty, Chewy. Meet your new mom.” He introduced you and you stepped back. “Nope, not my son.” You waved off, “Are you really gonna leave him motherless.” Rin pressed, “Yeah mama, he’s our brother you can’t be like that.” Akira whined.

“I just never really liked dogs.” You admitted, “Me neither but he’s my best friend.” Rin said softly. You looked down at the brown dog with curly hair. His tail wagged as his tongue sticker out so adorably. Now you understood why Rin named him Chewy, he looks like Chewbacca. “Nice to meet you, Chewy.” You reached your hand out to pet his head but he jump and rested his paws on your stomach, causing you to lose you balance and fall back. Before you could fall and die from embarrassment, No one other than Rin was there to catch you. “I’m sorry he doesn’t really do that. He’s just too excited.” He said from behind and helped you up. “No it’s fine.” You said and you both stayed quiet.

“So are you gonna continue holding on to my waist or..?”

“Fuck..sorry.” He apologized with flushed cheeks and let go. The kids began scolding their dad’s potty mouth and you hated that feeling in your stomach from when he pulled away.

Rin’s mom looked from the kitchen window and gritted her teeth while scrubbing the pan a little too hard. “Good job, Chewy.” Rini and Akira quietly praised and continued to play with their new brother.

****

“Finally we can talk.” Rin’s mom said and sat at the head of the table, you and Rin both gulped and Kauru sighed. He just wanted to nap. “Okay I can tell without a doubt that those children are Rintarou’s. And it’s nice that they don’t look like you.” Rin’s mom spoke up and you gasped. “If you’re here just to fight then don’t even open your mouth.” Kauru told his wife and she gave a glare. “Okay first of all. Why didn’t you tell my son you were pregnant.” She crossed her arms over your chest and you cuddled with your fingers. “Well Mrs.Suna...like I said over the phone. We had just broken up and I was hurt and afraid. I wasn’t sure if he would support me in keeping them—“ “Well how could you know if you didn’t speak up?” She interrupted but you ignored the jabs she threw. “I also wanted him to continue on with his career, stress free. I guess at the time I still loved him a lot that I didn’t want him to suffer with me. Or else I could have easily filed for child support.” You said and Rin frowned slightly.

“That’s not a good excuse. Rintarou has missed out on so much because you were selfish. You just wanted Rin to go pro for the money.” She accused with a pointed finger. “Mom—stop!” Rin immediately said and Kauru raised his finger to stop his son. “Karin do you know that for sure?” He asked his wife. “Yeah. All she does is party and drink. I think the kids are unsafe under her care. All of her money is wasted on her fake breasts.”

“Ma’am I can assure you that these are real. Ask your son.” You waved off and she gasped before she could open her mouth to utter more stupid shit you said. “With all due respect Mrs. Suna, you don’t know me. You don’t know how I raise my children, you don’t know what I do for a living and you don’t know what I’ve been through. Please before judging me, see how I treat my kids and how I treat your son. I have been nothing but respectful and the least you could do is treat me like a proper guest.” You argued back but she just ignored you and went through her iPad.

Why does she have an iPad? She flips the device over so you and the two Suna men could see and Rin almost spit out his drink. Karin told Kauru to look away and your mouth hung open as she swiped photo after photo of you in revealing lingerie. In some photos you’re wearing a gag and in others you’re chained up but it’s all modeling for Jamie and her line. You looked at your stomach and thighs and you could see those stretch marks.

Even though the world has seen these pictures, you can’t help but feel nervous when Rintarou is looking at them. You weren’t the same athletic girl from highschool, you gained weight, developed stretch marks, and you hate working out. You know you’re beautiful, that’s why you asked Jamie to not edit the photos of you she posted on the web. Your stretch marks and tummy were there for the world to see. But their comments or praise didn’t matter. The only person’s opinion that matters is Rintarou’s. Which is ridiculous to say but, some part of you still wants his approval and to be with him.

“Is this a good example to show your daughter? You want her modeling and showing off her body like a filthy wh—“ “Enough!” Rin smacked the table and stood up. You flinched as well as she did and you began to cry. “You make it seem like I should be ashamed of myself...”

“You should be.”

“Have you told them why we broke up?” You turned to Rin and he saw the tears streaming down. He wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms and say that it’s okay. “No..” he shook his head and you sighed. “You won’t understand unless your son tells you what he did. Everything I did for myself and my children was for a reason. Now if you’d excuse me, I need to go, it’s time for their history lesson.” You wiped your eyes and left the table. Quickly you grabbed your bag with all their supplies and you met them outside. “Come on, time for school!” You called with a fake smile and red eyes. The kids understood to not argue and to just obey.

You sat on the picnic table with your two kids across from you and Chewy was laying on the bench right next to you, with his head on your thighs. “Mama...” Rini interrupted your thoughts, “Yes baby?” You asked and looked up from their lesson plan, “I love you, and you’re the best mom in the world.” He said with a small smile. “I love you more than Rini and you’re the bestest momma in the universe!” Akira chimes in and you chuckled. “I love you guys to infinity and beyond, forever and ever! It’s called unconditional love.” You said and their eyes widened. “Unconditional love...” akira hummed and you nodded.

“Hi Kuroo-san is everything okay?” You asked as you made your way to the patio outside. It was already time for the kids bedtime. “Y/N I’m sorry for informing you last minute but one of the commentators for tomorrow’s game is in the hospital so we were wondering if you could fill in.” He spoke calmly. “I—oh gosh I’m all the way in Hyogo..when does the game start?” You asked.

After going back in forth for tomorrow’s game you hung up after respectfully telling him you weren’t interested in going out on a date. You rubbed your face and looked at the time. The trains have already closed for the day, so you’d have to take your car.

“You good?” Rin asked as soon as you walked back inside. “I need to go in to work tomorrow. Another commentator is in the hospital. Nobody else can fill in.” You said and his eyes widened since it’s a very long drive. “Oh how fantastic, leaving your young children overnight to go work—“

“I’m taking them.” You interrupted the witch and her eyes widened. “What do you mean you’re taking them.” She asked. “They’re my children and I don’t want to leave them with you. I’d rather take them and ask Jamie to watch over them and I’ll come back the day after tomorrow.”

“Y/N...” Suna snapped you out of your rambling and you turned your head to see him. “I’m here now, remember? You don’t have to do this alone anymore. I can take care of them and watch them. I’ve done it before.” He assured. “I’m sorry but I really don’t want them near your mom.” You explained your reasoning. “Tomorrow we’ll be at Kita’s farm all day. They’ll be fine.” He said and patted your head. Without even realizing, you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around Suna’s torso, his face flushed and he wrapped his arms around your shoulders. “Thank you. It means a lot.” You mumbled in his chest.

“It’s my job, partner.” He chuckled and you pulled away. “Fist bump?” He asked and presented his closer fist, you giggled and nodded. “Fist bump.” You did the same and your knuckles met. Rin’s mother scoffed and rolled her eyes, walking away to her room.

You took a deep breath as you crossed lanes on the freeway going back home. You wanted nothing more than to stay with your kids or take them with you, but you can’t control everything yourself anymore. You gonna trust Rin.

You made it home by five am since the drive was eight hours but you made it in seven by speeding and automatically fell asleep in Rin’s bed. You decided to take the pull out bed in your office when Rin moved in and he slept in your old master bedroom. But you were too tired to pull it out so you slept in your old bed. You couldn’t help but notice how the pillows smelled like Rin.

His scent definitely changed, he doesn’t use the old spice fragrance from highschool. He now uses something more expensive and more subtle yet manly at the same time. You definitely needed to know what the scent was so you could buy more for him on a birthday or something.

You woke up at around 13:30 to get ready and leave by 15:00. You showered, did your hair and wore the white button up with the green dress pants and a green blazer on top. You slipped on some hot pink heels and some subtle jewelry and made your way. You called your kids and they said they were having a blast, they really missed you and wished you and their grandma were there and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

While Rin’s mom stayed home, her husband worked and Rin took the kids out, she began thinking about the day before.

“You won’t understand unless your son tells you what he did. Everything I did for myself and my children was for a reason.”

Rin’s mom was obviously confused and still annoyed at you. But then Rin sat her down after breakfast, the kids were outside and Kauru was already gone. He explained what he did with his friends and Karin couldn’t help but feel disgusted. If she would have been more involved in his teenage life then she could have prevented this. Prevented minors drinking, prevented her son getting sexually involved with you, and preventing an innocent girl getting hurt.

In reality you should have thrown a full can of coffee at Rin instead of an empty one. You should have cursed him and made him pay child support. That’s what she would do straight up. But you’re not her, and you explained why you did what you did. And she began to understand. “You have a lot of work to do in order to get back in her good grace.” She told her son. “I know I know..” he said softly. “That’s why we’re starting as friends. And eventually I wanna be with her romanticly and marry her. I want to be the man she can rely on and trust again.” He said and her mom smiled.

“I understand, I’ll make sure to apologize when she returns. And I’m rooting for you.” She said and Rin smiled. “Thanks mom.” She stood up and grabbed her bag, “I’m not in the mood to cook. How do burgers sound?” She asked Rin and he nodded. “There’s a place down the street that’s pretty good. I’ll be back in a few.”

Rin’s mother wanted to repent for her actions and she tried thinking of a proper way to apologize. She went into the restaurant to order and everywhere she saw, it explained that the food was made with peanut oil. But that’s what gave it the flavor. That’s why it’s so delicious. She happily payed for the food completely oblivious that her grandson was severely allergic to peanuts.

She arrived home and rounded up the kids. She gave them a kiss on the head and smiled as they showed her their drawings that she could keep. Rin’s mom passed around the burgers so Rin couldn’t see the bag that promoted the peanut oil being a main ingredient and the kids munched.

When Rini took the bite his eyes widened at the deliciousness. Bite after bite and his throat began to feel weird, as well as his stomach. He took a sip of the lemonade and he couldn’t swallow it properly. He began to cough and Rin patted his back confused and he face turned red.

“Rini are you choking?!” Akira asked scared and Rini shook her head. “My stomach hurts—“ he coughed and Rin’s eyes widened. “Oh shit.” He quickly ran upstairs to his old bedroom and looked through the bag with Rini’s inhaler and other vitamins. He saw the epipen and ran back out quickly unscrewing it. Rini’s face was turning purple and he continued to cough. Akira was crying and Karin didn’t know what to do. Rin fell to his knees and slammed the pen on his sons thigh. “Are you okay bud. Stay with me please.” Tears prickled his eyes. He seriously fucked up.

Rini’s chest heaved up in down as he tried to catch his breath. Rintarou instructed his mom to call 119 and an ambulance soon came and took Rini away with Rin in the ambulance. Akira was stuck with her grandma driving to the hospital.

Karin was so confused at the situation. And she was worried for her grandson. She tried her best calming the little girl who held the green pig plush and the fox plush in her arms. “Is Rini gonna die?” Akira pouted with watery eyes. “Of course not. Everything is gonna be alright.” She assured.

While all this was going down, you were talking and laughing as you talked about Sendai frogs and their intimating demeanor. You felt a weird feeling in your chest and felt like something was wrong. Your purse and phone was stuck in the lounge locker so you didn’t see the 20+ phone calls and messages you received from Rin.

He was afraid and didn’t know what to do. He really wished you were here by his side. He couldn’t do this alone and realized this is what it’s like being a single parent.

🏷: @therealwalmartjesus @differentballooncollection @aaesuki @atsunflower @dope-squish @prettysetterboiss @june-phantom @tomo-uwu @austriasmariazelle @xrnia @katsulia @aprettyfruit @shut-your-eyes-kiss-me-goodbye @tvbiio @sun-daddy-yoriichi @kamenoyaki @ppangiiroo @loeyprivvv @kmskj92 @lovinnoya @sarahvvictoria @tris-does-stuff @mokkeguts @sunaluvr6969 @bara-rose-would @sempiternal-amour @volleybloop @leykyuu @bokutoichigo @stfucanunot @iloveanime691 @tpwkatsumu @ohrintarou @shoutosimp @mqrinqcele @bokutosdivineass @anngelllla @toworuu @hidden-otaku-stuff @seijohiselite @caxsthetic @aquariarose @hhwanggu @bakuhoetoedoroki @yoozuku @osamus-onigiri @akaashi-todorki @donica95 @kakaokenma @airheadpillar

[cabensonsgirly]

👼Home Is Wherever I'm With You (Alice Macray)[NSFW]👼

Alice Macray x Fem!reader

👼Part 2 of SP getting reader pregnant👼

👼Wordcount: 2714👼

👼Posted on AO3: Read Here👼

👼Content: Fluff, some angst, homophobia, Phyllis and Alice's husband are trash garbage, some smut, strap-on, wlw magic, pregnancy, Alice is an angel, mentions of religion.👼

👼There was one person who never left your side though, even if it meant they were put in the firing path of Phyllis, and that was Alice. She, in all her sweet innocence, didn’t understand why it was such a big deal that you happened to like women, surely if God didn’t want the “lovely lgbts” then he wouldn’t have created them. Alice was religious, went to church on Sundays, said grace before eating, prayed before bed, but she wasn’t the type to go around telling people that they were sinning or judge them because they weren’t religious, if anything, she just wanted people to be happy.👼

It had been a number of years since you had moved to a slightly more progressive part of town, ever since Phyllis found out that you had – as she put it – “homosexual inclinations” it was made very clearly that you were no longer welcome in that area. And because she ruled with an iron-fist, no one dared to speak out against her, even if they had said to you in private that you were still the same wonderful person they had always known.

There was one person who never left your side though, even if it meant they were put in the firing path of Phyllis, and that was Alice. She, in all her sweet innocence, didn’t understand why it was such a big deal that you happened to like women, surely if God didn’t want the “lovely lgbts” then he wouldn’t have created them. Alice was religious, went to church on Sundays, said grace before eating, prayed before bed, but she wasn’t the type to go around telling people that they were sinning or judge them because they weren’t religious, if anything, she just wanted people to be happy.

It had hurt when you moved because you had grown close with Alice and her kids, even if her husband harboured ill feelings towards you because you were a “dyke” and “we can’t let our children around that dyke, Alice” but she managed to calm him down enough so that you could still come around. But you hadn’t seen Alice and the kids much since moving, and you missed them something wicked. Yes you had spoken to them, mainly Alice, on the phone but it was brief and happened very rarely. You missed her. You missed them.

The days where she called you had you wanting them to last forever, you could wander around your home just listening to her talk about how things were going, how much she enjoyed her job, how the kids were doing in school. You found yourself feeling like a high schooler talking to their crush after school on the phone, laying down on your bed with the dumbest grin on your face. However, that grin changed to a shocked expression when you let slip how you feel about her. “Alice, fuck – sorry I know you don’t like swearing but… Alice, I love you so much and I miss you, I miss being around you and being with the kids. It’s been miserable not being able to see you, but-“ you hear a sharp intake of breath “I- I’m sorry, I have to go.” Before the line goes dead.

Seven months, twelve days, thirteen hours, and fifteen minutes it had been since that call and you hadn’t heard from her. You weren’t usually the type to count these things, even when you had important events to look forward to, you wouldn’t count down the days. You guess it was some form of way to torture yourself, counting the length of time since you fucked up one of the few good things you still had in life. She was radiant like an angel, put the beauty of the moon to shame, and you- you were like a horseman of the apocalypse, ruining everything you touched. Maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, you haven’t ruined everything you touch but you certainly have relationship wise.

You had a few spare rooms in your house, you’d hoped that one day you would be able to have your own family, a bedroom for each kid: two bedrooms and one room as the nursery. No, that was a lie, you had dreamed about having Alice live with you - be with you – the boys would have their own rooms to decorate how they please (under the watchful eye of Alice) and… a nursery so you and Alice could have a child together, so that the boys would have a little sister (hopefully) to protect from the big kids.

To be honest, you had already started making renovations on the house so that it would be better suited for a family like that anyway, the bedrooms had a fresh coat of paint, nothing that was specifically catered to boys or girls – you wanted the kids to pick the colour themselves if they wanted a change – and made sure the windows had latches to prevent them from opening too far so that no one could fall out of them.

You were most proud of the kitchen though; it was your pride and joy of the entire property. That’s where you currently find yourself, applying the final sealing coat on the marble countertop so that no liquid seeps into the pores of the material. You had music playing through the radio, just loud enough to drown out the sound of the odd car that drove by. You were humming along to this when you heard the doorbell ring, this surprised you because not many people stopped round to your place, and if they did they would usually knock. You put the paintbrush in the sink and put the lid back onto the tin of sealant before you made your way over to the door. You didn’t bother to check your appearance or anything because you thought it was probably some girl scouts or a random, so in all your messy renovation glory you swung the door open to greet whoever was on the other side.

“Hi there, what can I-“ Your voice catches in your throat and colour rushes to your cheeks as you lay eyes on the woman before you. Now you were wishing you had at least wiped the sweat from your face and the grime from your hands.

“Hi… I- I know we- I know I haven’t spoken to you since…well…” She trails off quietly, looking down. You bite your bottom lip slightly and shake your head, willing the tears to remain unshed “It’s- It’s fine Alice, really. It’s in the past… You don’t need to explain yourself. It’s fine.” The older woman shakes her head and looks at you again, her eyes glistening slightly “I want to. Can- can I come in, please?”

You step back and hold the door open so she can make her way inside, closing and locking the door behind her before leading her to the lounge. “I- I wanted to apologise for hanging up the way I did…and for leaving your life without saying anything.” She takes a seat in an arm chair, hands immediately starting to fiddle with the cushion “I just- I didn’t- I don’t”

“You don’t feel the same way. I- I know. It’s okay. I- I got over most of the hurt-“

“No- no that’s not what I meant. I didn’t understand why you felt that way and- and I didn’t understand why I- why I” she shakes her head, her grip on the cushion tightening before she blurts out “why I felt something I hadn’t felt since the joy I felt when I had my boys.” She lets out a sob and buries her face in her hands as she starts crying.

You rush over to her and wrap your arms around her gently, rubbing her back as you hush her gently. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Shhh… It’s okay, Alice” She moves so she can hug you tight, burying her face in your shirt as she continues crying. “hey, hey it’s okay. It’ll be okay. Shhh.. It’s okay, Alice.” You continue rubbing her back, only slowing down more as her breathing starts to return to normal. “There we go, there we go. It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

She doesn’t pull back but you hear her mumble out “my- my husband- ex… he- he found me crying after the call and he asked why. I- I told him that it- it was because I think I- I was in…love with someone else. A- A woman… And- and he” she lets out a sob before continuing “he told me how- how disgusting I- I am. That- that I was going to- to ruin my- my kids. We- He filed for divorce a few weeks later… It’s- it’s supposed to be split custody but- but I guess the boys like me more so- so they stay with me a majority of the time. They asked why I was so sad, why I didn’t bake apple pie as much anymore, why I- why I never called you. I didn’t answer them for so long, just- just said it was some- some trial that God was putting me through. But… a few days ago they asked again, and- and the looks in their eyes…” she lets out a bit of a laugh “they looked like they wouldn’t judge me no matter what I said, they- they really are my boys. So…I told them.”

Your breath catches and you still your movements before continuing, encouraging Alice to continue. “I told them everything. Well- well excluding what their father said about- about me. I just- I said that their father didn’t- didn’t approve of- of who I had…fallen in love with. They- they were confused and asked how it was possible for someone to- to fall in love when already married. I said sometimes- sometimes it happens and that it- it doesn’t mean I never loved their father, but I had discovered that- that maybe I…liked women. A woman. Gosh… You should’ve seen the looks on their face, it was like I’d given them their birthday presents early. I hadn’t even told them who but… they’re so wonderful.”

She pulls back and wipes her eyes on her sleeve, giving you a small smile “I told them that the woman I was- I am in love with is you. That- that I hadn’t known what to do so that’s why I was sad for so long because I just… Anyway… They said I was silly and should go tell you everything because they miss you and want to see me happy again.”

You blush deeply and look away, a shy smile settling on your lips before Alice gently turns your head to face her. “I- I love you, yn.” She leans in and tentatively brushes her lips against yours before kissing you, you gasp softly in shock before melting into the kiss.

One year, three months, two weeks, three days, and nine hours. That’s how long Alice and her boys – your boys – have been living with you for. After she kissed you that day, she asked if she could make love to you but emphasised that you would have to guide her because she’d never been with another woman. Alice was a quick learner and once she had a solid understanding of what you enjoyed…she made it very clear that she was the one in charge in the bedroom. This surprised you but you weren’t going to complain, if the love of your life wanted to be called “Miss” in the bedroom and boss you around, you bet your fucking ass you’re going to do just that. Although she did burst into tears after you went down on her because she didn’t know something like that was supposed to feel that good.

She asked you why there was an empty room one day while the boys were at tutoring, and you told her it was because you hoped to have a baby one day… Hopefully with her. She was shocked and had blushed profusely but the smile on her face reassured you she wasn’t put off by the idea. You said you knew it wouldn’t actually be possible for her to get you pregnant but you saw a fierce determination in her eyes that made you feel like she would find a way. Alice didn’t bring it up again for quite some time, and you didn’t press about it either, just put it down to her having forgotten or maybe not actually being into the idea.

One evening while the boys were at their fathers Alice said she had something to show you, said it was really important. When you walked into the bedroom you nearly choked on your bottled water, Alice was standing there, looking down as she adjusted - what appeared to be a strap-on – to fit her comfortably. She still had her simple white bra on but to you she still looked sexy, with or without clothing you were attracted to her; the look of utter concentration on her face made you giggle though, drawing her attention to you, a blush settling on her face as she smiles.

“I- Hi. I- So I did some… I did things to try and- and figure out if there was a way I could get you…pregnant… And- well, I know you don’t always come to church but- No I didn’t ask around church, silly. Every time I prayed, I asked for there to be a time where it would be possible for me to get you pregnant, so- so I could have a baby with the woman I love. And- and so it turns out that tonight is that night. I saw a sign, and I know that sounds cra-“ You cut her off with a deep and slow kiss, hands cupping her cheeks gently before you pull back “Alice, baby, nothing you say sounds crazy to me.”

She blushes more and flusters a bit before continuing “I saw a sign, well- well what I hope was one and knew that it would be possible tonight. That- that it would be possible for me to- to” she tears up, some tears spilling onto her cheeks which you wipe away gently “to get you pregnant so we can have our baby.” You sniffle a little, having teared up at her words “Alice… You’re so- you’re so wonderful. Please take me to bed, make- make love to me.”

Alice takes your hand in hers gently and leads you to your shared bed where she lays you down gently on it before crawling on top of you, her hand stroking your cheek gently. “I love you so much, yn.”

“I love you too, Alice.”

You looked up at the woman you loved, her hand ghosting gently between your legs and roaming over your body before she starts to remove your clothing, kissing your skin as each item is removed. She trails kisses up your thighs before moving up to kiss you, her lips were still sweet from the dessert she had made, her tongue slips between her lips and runs against your bottom lip before you part them to brush your tongue over hers, you both moaning at the feeling. A gasp falls from your lips when you feel her touch your slit, fingers rubbing your clit lightly before dipping the tips of two into your pussy.

“You make the most beautiful noises, my love.”

There had never been a moment before now where you had felt so much love when having sex with someone. It wasn’t only because your girlfriend had managed to find a way to try having a baby with you – having her baby, it was because there wasn't a single moment the entire night where the love in her eyes disappeared.

You wouldn’t know if Alice’s prayers had been heard until you took a pregnancy tests a few days later, but there was a feeling in your bones that made you think that things would work out – that you would have her baby. On the off chance, or more likely chance, that you didn’t get pregnant, that would be okay too. Your sweet Alice would probably try her best to find another way though, she was determined like that.

You and Alice both shared a nice bubble bath after your lovemaking, just enjoying being in each other’s arms. “Alice baby, I love you so much. Thank you for tonight. Thank you for coming back to me. Just- just thank you.” She hums softly in response, her eyes drifting closed “I love you too, Yn. I’d always find my way back to you anyway.” You press a kiss to her head, enjoying the feeling of being content and happy with a woman you love, and with the chance of being pregnant with her child.

[spacedikut]

how to ask a girl out ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x reader

summary: elle sees an opportunity to teach spencer about asking a girl out. 3275 words

a/n: based on this scene. this is the longest fic ive ever written so sorry if it’s a painful read 

Spencer feels creepy staring at you like this.

There’s no other way to put it. He feels like he’s twelve again, the youngest in his Las Vegas high school, staring at all the pretty girls that get his heart racing just by existing. But you’re more enchanting than those girls. He could watch you do anything, he thinks, because no matter what you’re doing you look picture perfect, like you don’t have a single bad angle.

Spencer still has the social skills of twelve year old him, though. Especially when dealing with cute people.

“You know,” The voice makes Spencer jump, “If you stare long enough, she just might notice.”

Elle is smirking with her arms crossed, shooting Spencer an incriminating look. He tenses.

Seeing his discomfort, Elle relents, “I’m teasing, Reid.” He visibly relaxes against the door frame he’s half hiding behind, half leaning against.

“I’m not trying to be weird.” He mumbles. Elle thinks he sounds like a kid that was caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“I know you’re not. Have you… spoken to her?”

You’re somewhat new to the unit. Some kind of assistant to JJ who joined several months ago (three months and three days, if Spencer counted correctly) (he did), which means the team don’t see you that much, just enough that you’ve been the topic of discussion a few times. It doesn’t help that JJ sings your praise, and Hotch recently revealed you made yourself available for babysitting his new-born if he ever needs it. Every time someone mentions you, it’s followed by some kind of compliment. Everyone loves you. Spencer has said all of five words to you, and he’s smitten.

“Hi. I’m Spencer. A doctor.”

When you were introduced you didn’t pay him much attention. He can’t blame you, it was overwhelming for you – being introduced to a whole bunch of FBI agents and then thrown head-first into sorting cases for them. But Spencer paid attention. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. Derek’s caught him staring one too many times, but it isn’t Spencer’s fault he can’t stop thinking about you. You enter the room and Spencer’s attention is pulled to you, like a magnet.

Derek thinks it’s time he made a move. Spencer agreed and maintained that confidence for all of fifteen minutes, until he heard your joyful laugh dance down the hallway and his tongue felt too heavy to form words.

That’s when Elle noticed.

Across the room, you’re laughing at something Derek said with JJ. Seeing you smile makes Spencer smile, and Elle nudges him.

“Have you considered approaching her? Rather than, you know, watching her from afar like she’s prey?”

Spencer huffs, “You think I haven’t tried?”

Every time he’s moved to start a conversation, he finds himself unable to complete a single sentence. After he says hello, then what? He dies?

Elle breathes through her nose in frustration. “She’s a nice girl. I’ve spoken to her a couple of times. She mentioned the other day she wants to visit the local museum, since she just moved and hasn’t really explored yet. Shame no one is available to accompany her, right?”

“Are you implying something?”

“Yes.”

“I-I don’t. I can’t-“

“You can’t or you won’t?”

Spencer’s always admired Elle’s ability to be blunt and fearless. But he isn’t Elle, Elle isn’t him, so to him it doesn’t feel like he simply chooses to pussy out of talking to you – it feels like he’s physically constrained. Like he’s fighting against the tide of the ocean to reach you, and he keeps getting pushed back, further and further away from you.

Elle’s eyes shift between you and Spencer, like she’s watching a tennis match. “Just go up and ask her. It’s that simple. If she says no, she says no. No big deal!”

Spencer shakes his head, “I can’t do that. It’s Y/N! She’s-she’s-“

“A normal human being. You know, like you and me? The second you start putting people on pedestals is when things start falling apart.” She pats him on the shoulder as encouragement, “Have some confidence, Reid.”

And she walks away, as if just telling him to have some confidence will make him suddenly have the courage to whisk you off your feet.

He wishes he could whisk you off your feet.

+++

The paperwork is never ending. Times like this, Spencer considers recanting his stance on technology – maybe having everything on an online database would be a good idea. The stacks upon stacks around him would agree.

A paper ball hits the back of Spencer’s head.

He turns, slowly, and Elle gives a wave from her desk. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Can I… help you?”

“Yes, you can.” She nods to the paper on the floor, “Read it.”

He leans and grabs the ball from the floor, opening it with furrowed brows.

Step 1: Actually talk to her.

Suddenly, Elle is standing right next to him, looking all-too-pleased with herself. She leans over him.

“What does this mean?”

“You wanna date Y/N? Talk to her. That means marching right up to her pretty little face and saying more than, like, a few words to her. You need to have a conversation with her to let her know you’re interested.”

Elle’s clearly confident in her plan, but it seems she’s forgetting an important detail – this is Spencer that she’s dealing with. Not Derek, who can charm anyone out of anything (or into anything), not Hotch who, when he wants to be, is the smoothest criminal ever. Not even Gideon, with his soft eyes that make anyone that stares into them feel safe. He’s Spencer Reid who, according to one guy, looks like a pipe cleaner with eyes.

Spencer’s hesitant to take any of Elle’s advice.

“What would I… say to her?” He asks. If he does talk to you, what does he even say? Do you even want to talk to him? What if you immediately hate him and JJ beats him up? She could do it. He’s seen her guns.

Elle looks at him incredulously, “Reid! C’mon! Anything! Ask how her day has been, if she had a good weekend, are there plans for this weekend… Literally anything.” Spencer gives a look of distrust, “You’ll know if she’s interested, trust me. She’ll reciprocate. If she doesn’t, she’s not up for it, and there’s your answer without even asking her out.”

At that moment, you and JJ appear from thin air, whispering to one another with your arms full of files. Both Spencer and Elle’s watchful gazes follow you right up until JJ’s office door is clicked shut and when you can only slightly be seen through the blinds, Spencer still stares. Elle hits him over the head.

“Pay attention!”

“She’s distracting!”

“She walked by you, not gave you a lap dance! Focus on the plan!”

With a sigh, he looks back to the crumpled paper in his hands. “What’s step two?”

The paper’s yanked out of his hands and Elle furiously scribbles something before handing it back to him.

Step 2: Make her laugh.

“I can’t do that.”

She scoffs, “Reid.”

“People laugh at me, Elle, not with me. The only way she’ll laugh is if I make a complete fool of myself and when I do that, I’m running away and never looking back. You’ll never see me again.”

Sick of the self-deprecation, Elle leans close to Spencer’s face and begins to whisper menacingly.

“Listen, bud,” She threatens, “You need to stop being so hard on yourself. You’re young, you’re inexperienced – that’s why approaching Y/N is so terrifying. Not because she’s out of your league, or you’re not good enough, it’s because you’ve never done this before. It’s simply a fear of stepping out of your comfort zone, so stop being so hard on yourself.”

Spencer isn’t sure how to respond, silently wishing something could get him out of this situation. He’s not used to being complimented so ferociously.

God answers his prayers. In the worst way possible.

“Incoming. Make her laugh, Reid.” Elle says, slinking off back to her desk.

Spencer quickly realises you’re approaching and his hands grip the armrests of his chair. He’s not ready for this. He wishes he had time to prepare, maybe google how to woo a woman, but you’re in front of him, all precious smiles with a manila folder in your hand.

“Hi, Doctor Reid.”

Your voices sounds like heaven. He can’t help but think, despite only listening to classical music, he could listen to your voice and only your voice if given the option. It’s like honey, sweet and smooth, and something inside him stirs. Everything about you is lovely.

He clears his throat and nervously wipes at his nose, “Hey. What can I do for you?”

“I was told to bring this to you,” You hand him the folder, “And JJ wanted me to check up on you. She said you’ve been working non-stop and that you probably consumed your bodyweight in coffee with enough sugar to give a small army diabetes. My guess is she wants to check your heart is still beating.”

Spencer laughs at that, which encourages you to giggle along. He freezes when he sees the way your eyes scrunch and smile widens when you laugh – he’d only seen it from a distance, up close it feels intimate and causes his throat to tighten. When your laughter dies, you’re left with an awkward silence as he stares. You shuffle your feet.

Elle is trying to look like she isn’t paying attention, but in her head she’s screaming at Spencer to say something!!!

“Sorry for disturbing you if you’re – um – if you’re busy.” You gesture to the mess on Spencer’s desk, and it’s then that he realises how his silence could’ve looked – to him, you quite literally took his breath away, but to you? He’s a weirdo that is still holding the file mid-air and hasn’t said a thing for far too long.

“No! No,” Spencer brushes his hair back, “Thank you for the file. JJ’s right, I should probably take a break-“

He looks up then. This is his chance, right?

“Are you busy right now?”

You glance around and your eyes find JJ’s office, where she’s signalling for you to come over, “Yeah. Sorry.”

It feels like a punch in the gut – is this rejection? – but there’s a look of sadness that crosses your face. Your mouth falls at the edges and your brows slightly crease – do you wish you weren’t busy?

If Spencer didn’t feel like he’s seconds away from vomiting, he’d ask. Maybe. That sounds a whole lot like flirting and he isn’t sure he can handle that.

You quickly leave, not before you tell him to look after himself (his heart swells), and the second you’re far enough away Elle is marching right over and throwing the paper at him, again, even though she’s standing right in front of him.

“She rejected me.”

“Yea- wait, what?” Elle starts to celebrate, but stops at her words, “No she didn’t. Did we see different things?”

“It sure felt like rejection. Felt weird.”

“That was the perfect chance to ask her to go out after work or maybe on the weekend, but, in your defence, that’s a Derek-level response and we’re not quite there yet. Step three, go.”

Spencer unfolds the paper ball begrudgingly, wondering if any of this is actually worth it.

Step 3: Get JJ to back the fuck up.

Spencer laughs.

“Either you tell JJ you like her assistant and ask for her help, or you tell JJ you like her assistant and that she needs to stop using her so much.” Elle sounds matter-of-fact and confident.

“You want me to tell JJ to stop giving her assistant work?” Spencer asks, face scrunched.

With a shrug, Elle says, “Or you could ask her to help you. She knows the most about Y/N.”

Looking up to JJ’s office, he realises how true Elle’s statement is. JJ knows you better than anyone else here, you’ve quickly become good friends, and JJ wouldn’t lie to Spencer about you if it involved his feelings. He trusts JJ like that.

But then you throw your head back in laughter, a hearty laugh that JJ follows with her own tinkling chuckle, and Spencer is reminded of the sinking feeling he’s had when he’s been rejected before. The emotional slap in the face that causes you to lose all confidence. In his head, he rationalises that attempting to ask you out is pointless. You won’t like him, scrawny profiler who follows his team members like a lost puppy, the guy unable to maintain eye contact for more than four seconds. The logical side, however, the side that runs the show when Spencer is on a case and hides his feelings, tells him he has nothing to lose. Morgan would be proud of him, not ashamed, because Spencer had the guts to ask someone out – Spencer! Elle would understand and tell him something about learning for next time, and the rest of the team wouldn’t really care.

He has nothing to lose and everything to gain. A date with you? A relationship with you? That’d feel like winning the lottery. It feels more likely than winning the lottery, too.

Then Morgan walks past him, more like swaggers, all good looks and charm and everything Spencer doesn’t have.

Spencer decides he’ll save himself the rejection.

+++

JJ gets involved without Spencer realising. He connects the dots on the way back to Virginia, after a case in which you were brought along instead of JJ.

There was a “family emergency”, apparently, after the debrief and right before take-off. Although it wasn’t your first case, it was your first time travelling with the team. When you pad in, sparkling eyes gliding all around the jet, Spencer zeroes in on the gruesome scene photos to avoid being caught staring.

You fit into the role flawlessly. It’s like you were born for the part, effortlessly slipping into the job of communicator between the team and the police force, standing fearlessly in front of the press as they piled on the pressure.

In the conference room where the team set up, he noticed you actively try to stay out of the way whilst simultaneously help in any way you could. You offered coffee every two hours (Spencer counted), cleaned up any and all rubbish the team left around – burger wrappers, useless post-it notes – and mothered the team by reminding them they need breaks, too.

At the hotel, you jokingly poked Spencer in the shoulder and said, “No more coffee for you. You’ll get a sugar rush and won’t be able to sleep.”

“Like a toddler?”

“Exactly like a toddler. Straight to bed for you.”

You grinned at eachother before you separated to go to your rooms. Around three am, Spencer instinctively went to make himself a drink but stopped and thought of you. He decided for that night, just that night, he could get a somewhat decent amount of sleep.

Now, on the flight home, Gideon pauses before his move in their third game of chess to stare at something behind Spencer’s shoulder. When he notices, Spencer turns to see what has his mentor’s attention and stutters when it’s you. You, looking like you’re straight out of a cheesy romance movie when you push your hair back while reading your book.

Gideon switches from staring at you to staring at Spencer.

“She’s a pretty girl, huh?”

Spencer knows where this is going.

“Elle told me you’re sweet on her.”

“Elle shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Elle has been watching you two the entire case.”

“Elle-“

Gideon clears his throat, making Spencer finally make eye contact, “You scared? Worried?”

“About what?” Spencer asks.

“Rejection. If she’ll laugh in your face, say something about never wanting anyone like you.”

Sometimes, Spencer is terrified of Gideon’s ability to read people. He swears he has this inhuman ability to take a peek into people’s minds, read their most intrusive and negative thoughts, and confront them about them. Like he’s doing to Spencer now.

“Something like that, yeah,” Spencer murmurs. He shuffles uncomfortably in his seat, “It’s your move.”

“I know.” Gideon nods to you, making Spencer look again, “Don’t you think, in twenty years’ time, you’d want to look back at this moment and be glad you asked? No matter the outcome? Rather than wondering if she’d said yes, asking all kinds of what-ifs…”

“You’re telling me to ask her out?”

Gideon gives Spencer a smile that fills him with confidence. He doesn’t know what it is, but he trusts Gideon with his whole life. If he tells him to go for it, then he should go for it, right?

“I happen to know the Virginia museum is having a deal on tickets if you order them online. Might be something to look into.” He sounds borderline smug now.

With one last look to Gideon, he stands and slowly waddles to the chair opposite you.

“Mind if I sit?” He asks, a hand gently resting on the back of the empty seat. You startle slightly at the unexpected voice, but gesture for him to sit with a smile.

“How are you feeling?” You wonder, squinting slightly as the sun shines in your eyes. It makes them sparkle, and Spencer has never understood wanting to drown in someone’s eyes until that moment.

“Just glad the case is over. You did a great job, by the way, filling in for JJ last minute.” Spencer is surprised that his voice doesn’t crack or stop completely.

You beam at the praise, “Thank you. JJ’s got some big boots to fill, even if it’s for one case.”

He shrugs and pulls a face as if you’ve said something ridiculous, “Don’t sell yourself short. When she realises how good you are, she’ll start taking all kinds of holidays.” He jokes.

He can’t help but grin when you laugh.

Elle passes. In the very brief eye contact they make, Elle’s eyes are wide and jumping from you to Spencer, Spencer to you. She’s sending him a message, and he bets Gideon is watching, too.

“Hey,” He starts, leaning on the table between you. You instinctively lean closer, too, which Spencer takes as a positive sign, “How would you.. like…”

He has to take a second to inhale a shaky breath and nervously push his hair behind his ears. You wait, all patient and divine, and his eyes dash around your face.

“To go to the museum with me?”

It comes out rushed and you look confused. “Huh?”

Spencer tries again, after clearing his throat, “How would you like to go to the museum with me? When we get back. As a date.”

“You’re asking me on a date?”

“…Yes?”

If you weren’t staring directly at him, he’d think you were making fun of him and about to unleash a nice bout of rejection.

You move one hand to lean your face against, moving in a little closer, “I would love that.”

Spencer is speechless. You would love that?

“Oh- wow. Yeah, thanks. Good.”

Who says thanks when someone agrees to go on a date with them?

You giggle.

“We’ll plan when we get back?” You ask.

“Yes. Definitely.” He nods three times.

You can’t help but bite your lip, he’s too cute, and it immediately draws Spencer’s attention.

Behind you both, Gideon turns to Elle. “Success.”

Elle rolls her head against the back of her seat and stares out the window, “Step four: Get Gideon to get the job done.”

[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - 8

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 3,734

Warnings: none

A/N: If this chapter had a name it would be “me, you, and steve’. Also I know how infuriating they are, so oblivious and dumb but isn’t it the point of pining ;) Thanks for your patience!

Wannabe sugar daddies, don’t interact with this post.

Bucky’s cab pulled over to the curb in front of his building. He tugged on the lapels of his coat, pulling it tighter around him, and braced himself for the blast of cold air waiting for him on the other side.

He hated the cold, hated winter. It reminded him of the day he lost his arm, alone on that godforsaken mountain until Steve found him. But he could deal with the cold if it meant he’d find you on the other side of that door.

He knew you were home, you had texted him about an hour ago telling him that you had a surprise for him. It had made him smile. He’d hurried home, desperate to see you even though he’d seen you that morning.

He had it bad.

He’d been restless since the gala, unable to sleep without dreaming of you, your velvet dress in a heap on his bedroom floor, your scent lingering on his bed sheets. He would wake up bathed in sweat, on the edge of coming.

He would deal with it with an ice cold shower.

Bucky had accepted the fact that his feelings for you weren’t as innocent as they once were. He had always thought you were strong, full of life and a little awkward, but lately he’d been wanting to kiss you, touch you, feel your warmth against him.

He wanted it so badly it hurt.

He wouldn’t say he loved you. He certainly felt something for you but love was something foreign to him. Sometimes he wondered if his feelings were even real. He’d gone from living an extremely solitary life to spending every single day with you. It could have easily been a product of his loneliness and your soft spoken demeanour.

He had stopped counting the number of times he’d almost kissed you on the lips. The urge was always there, eating away at him, but he always caught himself at the last moment, his lips landing on your forehead, your cheek or your temple instead.  

“I’m home,” he shouted, closing the door behind him. He bent to untie his shoes and kicked them off while he unzipped his coat. “What’s the big surprise? Is it something we can eat?”

He hung his coat next to yours on the hook and walked down the short corridor that led to the kitchen. As he walked, he became suspicious of the silence that hung in the air. Slowly he peeked into the kitchen and found you in the company of someone he thought he’d never see again.

“Steve?”

“Not edible, sorry, Buck.”

Bucky’s face broke out into an instant smile, ear to ear and ecstatic. “Fuckin’ hell, Rogers, you look like a yeti.”

Steve barked out a laugh as he stepped forward and hugged him. He wrapped both his arms around Bucky, almost lifting him off the ground despite knowing how uncomfortable hugs made him feel. Chuckling, Bucky returned his hug with one arm; the only kind of hug he could give.

“I’m happy to see you.” Steve pulled back and held him at arm's length.

Bucky looked over Steve’s shoulder at you who were standing behind the kitchen counter, grinning at them. “Is that my surprise?” You nodded. “Ugh, I was kind of hoping for pizza honestly.”

“Asshole.”

“I’m joking, man.”

Steve returned to his seat and Bucky followed. You grabbed a mug from the cupboard and fixed Bucky a cup of coffee. He gave you a grateful smile.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with this punk on your own,” Bucky told you. “Did he give you a hard time?”

“Nah,” you said. “He was pretty sheepish. Also, I almost gave him a heart attack.”

Bucky burst out laughing as Steve’s face and neck flushed red. You told Bucky the story of how you and Steve met outside his apartment building. Bucky doubled over laughing when you made a pretty spot-on impression of Steve’s confused face. Steve rolled his eyes at your theatrics, a smile on his lips.

“In my defense, no stranger has ever screamed my name like that.”

“Oh, if the alley behind the church could talk, it’d call you a fucking liar, Steve.”

“First, shut up!” Steve jokingly pushed Bucky off his seat. “Second, I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.” That sobered you both up faster than a cold shower. Steve caught a furtive sideways glance between you and Bucky. “Did I say something wrong?”

“I’m not his girlfriend,” you replied with a smile. “I’m his, uh-” you trailed off and looked to Bucky for help but he was unable to speak. “I’m his roommate.”

“Oooh! Okay.”

Was that relief on Steve’s face? Bucky’s stare hardened. A muscle in his jaw jumped when Steve engaged you in a conversation. He asked you how long you’d been living with Bucky and if you liked the apartment. His tone was conversational but Bucky knew him like the back of his hand, he knew Steve was flirting with you.

“Are you staying for dinner?” you asked Steve. Bucky’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. You picked up the laminated meal plan from on the counter. “Creamed spinach and baked eggs.”

“Sounds great,” Steve agreed.

“You don’t like spinach,” Bucky grumbled under his breath.

“I’m not twelve anymore,” Steve countered with an arched brow. It made you laugh. “Besides I haven’t eaten a homemade meal in... wow, probably years.” Steve turned to you. “I don’t know if Bucky told you but I’m a landscape photographer. I live in the wild most of the year. It’s kinda like travelling by foot on an endless backpacking trip. It’s amazing but the food is disgusting.”

“Yikes!” You grimaced in sympathy. “Well, Bucky’s an amazing chef. I keep telling him we should open a restaurant together.”

You walked over to Steve and mock-whispered in his ear. “If we ask nicely, he’ll probably make us some garlic bread.”

That made Bucky smile. His first instinct was to answer with his usual ‘I’d do anything for you, angel’ but he couldn’t say that in front of Steve so he bit his tongue. He saw the disappointment in your eyes, as if you were expecting that usual answer too.

“I should go upstairs,” you said. “I have a painting to finish. Have fun, boys.”

Steve watched you go, then he shook his head and heaved out a sigh. He waited until he was sure you were out of earshot before he turned to Bucky.

“She’s quite something, isn’t she?” he said. “So, are you two...”

“We’re friends,” Bucky said.

Steve nodded. “Is she single?”

“As far as I know.”

Bucky’s jaw was clenched hard, the tendons in his neck looked like they were about to snap. He loved Steve like a brother but, goddammit, he wanted him to leave and never return. He balled his hand into a fist, feeling a visceral urge to punch something.

Yet, Steve seemed completely oblivious to Bucky’s turmoil. After living in the wild for several years, he was having trouble picking up on social cues.

“Do you think I should ask her out? I’m a bit rusty.” He ran his hand through his long hair, tugging at the strands. “I should get a trim first, right?”

“And a fucking shower,” Bucky grumbled to himself.

Steve didn’t hear him, he was too busy glaring at his hair in the big mirror on the wall.

Bucky tried to push away that nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was becoming harder to pretend this was all innocent. Not when he had to physically restrain himself from punching his oldest friend in the teeth. Steve was allowed to ask you out, Bucky had no right to be jealous.

And yet...

“How long are you stayin’?” he asked, eyeing Steve’s backpack. It wasn’t unusual for him to take Steve in when he was between assignments, but things were different now.

“A few weeks. Is it going to be a problem?”

“Listen, if it were just me, I’d let you stay,” Bucky replied. “But I’m not alone anymore. She doesn’t know you, you’re basically a stranger, and you’re already thinking of hitting on her. I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable. This is her home.”

Steve blushed. “No, of course. I understand. I would never-”

“All I’m sayin’ is, she has the final say,” Bucky cut him off. “If she lets you stay, you can take the kids’ room.”

“You sure? It’s right next to her room. I could take the room upstairs, the one above the living room.”

“No, you can’t,” Bucky sighed. “It’s her painting studio.”

Steve stared at him with a suspicious frown. “Are you sure there’s nothing between you and her?”

“Yup, she’s just a friend.”

He tried not to fidget as he forced himself to hold Steve’s gaze. He kept his head high and acted as composed as he could even though his heart was jackhammering in his chest.

“Okay,” Steve drawled out, not entirely convinced. “If you say so.”

As Bucky expected, you allowed Steve to take the guest room, the one with the bunk-bed, though Steve told you that it wouldn’t be a problem. It also meant that he would be sharing your bathroom, and while it didn’t seem to bother you, it made Bucky really uncomfortable.

That evening, he sat down with you and Steve at the dinner table. He made sure Steve was seated at one end of the table, thinking that if you didn’t have him in front of you, you’d interact less. Bucky’s plan backfired pretty quickly. Steve had so many ‘I-lived-in-the-wild-for-ages’ stories that he monopolized the discussion –and your attention.

Bucky spent most of the night lost in his own thoughts, daydreaming, and only smiled when he caught your gaze. He snapped out of his haze when he noticed that he was alone at the dinner table. You and Steve were washing the dishes, talking and laughing.

He felt a pang of envy at the sight before him; it was supposed to be him and it scared him that someone could take you away from him. Then it hit him. He wasn’t special, you were kind and sweet with everyone. It was what had attracted him to you in the first place; your kindness, your fortitude and loyalty.

He couldn’t blame Steve for falling for you, too.

“Guys, I’m going to bed,” he said, standing on the landing between the two rooms.

You turned around mid-laugh and smiled warmly at him. “Good night, Bucky.”

“Sweet dreams, angel.” It slipped out. He didn’t even realize what he’d said, but Steve did.

Steve cocked a brow at his best friend’s retreating figure before he hung his head and let out a brief chuckle.

Over the next few days, Bucky’s mood didn’t improve. He was holding back, unable to reach out to you the way he used to. Steve was always there. Always.

In the morning Steve would come back from a run, sweaty and hungry, and wearing a shirt that was two sizes too small for him. He really laid it on thick, even by his standards, but you didn’t seem to mind.

In fact, you would often go out with Steve when Bucky was working on his new book. He took you to art shows, introduced you to important people and you visited art supply stores together, which annoyed Bucky more than he thought possible.

He felt stuck in a Garfunkel and Oates song, praying for Steve to go away.

I could've wished a thousand wishes for Steve to disappear.

Worst of all, Bucky was snappy with you. Especially after he inadvertently overheard you and Natasha talking about Steve. You painted a vivid picture of Steve’s ass. Figuratively of course, though Bucky couldn’t be certain that you didn’t have hundreds of notebooks filled with drawings of Steve’s ass.

“Hey, stranger.”

He looked up when you walked into his study carrying a tray with his breakfast –coffee and two slices of toasted white bread with butter and jam. You left the tray on a pile of papers and closed the door behind you.

“I was wondering about you, since you didn’t show up for breakfast.” You stood behind him and worked your fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes and let you massage his scalp, the tension slowly leaving his body. “Something’s bothering you. I can tell.”

Bucky was so relaxed that his filter was non-existent. “Yeah, Steve’s bothering me. He stole my angel.”

“He can’t steal a mythical creature.”

“You’re my angel,” he half-moaned when you applied pressure to his scalp.

“I haven’t been feeling like your angel lately,” you said, giving him another squeeze before you let go of his head. You took a seat on the armchair close to his desk. “You’re... I don’t know. You’re moody and irritated, and I don’t know how to help you. I know you don’t like surprises, and Steve showing up out of nowhere and staying here was a pretty huge surprise. It’s difficult to cope with change but I think you’re acting a little weird. I swear, Bucky, sometimes you look at Steve like you want to kill him. Is it because we spend time without you?”

Bucky straightened up in his seat and took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “Yeah, I guess. You two are having fun and I’m stuck here, alone.”

“You feel left out.”

“A bit,” he replied earnestly. “But if you like him, you should go for it. He’s a good-looking guy, he’s nice. He’s also a dumbass but that’s part of his charm.”

You laughed. “What? Why are you telling me this?”

“I heard you and Natasha,” Bucky explained, blushing. “You said, and I quote: ‘he's got an ass you can bounce quarters off of.’”

You burst out laughing. “Oh, Bucky.”

“What? I’m just sayin’ if that’s what you wanna do... I’ll give you a bunch of quarters.”

“No, thanks,” you laughed. “I’m good. I keep my quarters for something else.”

Bucky speared you with a suspicious look. “So you don’t think his ass is like a juicy peach.” He blinked. “Also a direct quote.”

“Oh, no, I stand by what I said. His ass is so-” you lifted your hands and made a squeezing motion “-tight.”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” he rushed to say. “It’s not that impressive. Anyone can do squats. I do squats.”

“Fishing for compliments?” He rolled his eyes and shook his head. You looked at him with a fond smile. “Eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He reached for a slice of bread and bit into it, focusing his attention on his laptop screen. You got to your feet and walked to the door.

“Oh, um, by the way, how much of that conversation did you hear?” you asked, leaning against the half-open door.

“Not much, I left after the juicy peach thing.”

You hummed while nodding, your eyes cast down. When you looked up at him, a glint of something mischievous shone in your eyes. “You should have stayed a little longer,” you said enigmatically, your eyes roaming shamelessly over his body.

You raised your eyebrows and closed the door behind you, leaving Bucky speechless and confused. “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” he shouted, hoping you could hear him through the closed door. “Angel? Come back!”

Needless to say he didn’t write much after that.

Bucky made a conscious effort to stop being an asshat. A week later, he was in a better mood, and only glared at Steve twice –the first time when Steve put his hand on your knee and the second when he made a vaguely flirtatious remark.  

You let Steve and Bucky handle the dirty dishes, and Bucky was sure you did it on purpose. Your little smug smile said as much. Steve didn’t seem happy, he had never liked household chores and probably only did the dishes to spend time with you.

Bucky remembered Steve’s childhood bedroom; shades always down, his bed perpetually unmade, and a monster pile of clean and dirty clothes on his desk chair. He remembered Sarah’s exasperated sigh whenever she entered her son’s bedroom. It made him laugh.

Bucky had always been a neat person, something his mom always took pride in. ‘Look at my son who does his own laundry and sets the table without being asked. Look how well I raised him!’ After his accident, cleaning became an obsession, a way of controlling something that was uncontrollable.

“Did you get Sam’s text?” Steve asked, tossing the now-wet towel on the counter. “Emergency brunch tomorrow at 10.”

“Yeah, I know. Sam has a loose understanding of the word ‘emergency’. Last time he wanted to know if he could pull off a goatee. Not exactly an emergency.”

“Mhh,” Steve replied, thinking. “Are you coming?”

“Hell yeah,” Bucky chucked, “I wanna know what this new emergency is.”

Steve cast him a sideways glance while leaning his back against the kitchen counter. He mulled over something as he watched his friend clean the sink.

“So, um,” Steve started awkwardly. “I have a date tomorrow.”

Bucky’s hand faltered a bit. “Ah? With who?”

Steve looked toward your bedroom door and let out a very loud sigh. “A real-life angel, Buck.”

Bucky let go of the sponge and straightened up abruptly. He glared at Steve, hoping he’d heard him wrong. “What did you just say?”

“I have a date tomorrow night so you’ll have the place to yourself.” Steve smiled to his friend, blissfully unbothered. “I think I’ve been invading your personal space. You always look upset so I thought this would be a great idea. And I’ve been alone for so long, I need... relief you know.”

“Awesome,” Bucky replied, gritting his teeth.

“Great, I’m glad you see it that way,” Steve said, grabbing Bucky’s shoulder and squeezing gently. “See you tomorrow, Buck.”

He watched Steve walk to his bedroom and close the door behind him. Something inside him cracked, and he felt the overwhelming urge to throw something, watch it break into tiny pieces.

He took a deep breath and went in search of you instead. He found you upstairs in your studio, kneeling in front of a canvas, the handle of a pair of pliers in your mouth. It took you a few seconds to acknowledge his presence, and Bucky grinned when you let out a little shocked gasp.

“Did you have fun washing the dishes with Steve?” you teased, taking the pliers out of your mouth.

“I think we need a dishwasher.” He walked into the room and squatted down on his haunches next to you. “Whatcha doing?”

“I’m removing the staples on the stretcher bars so I can roll up the canvas and put it in a tube,” you said. “This way they’re protected and I can carry them pretty easily. I have a meeting with a gallerist tomorrow. Apparently Steve knows her well. He mentioned my name and she wants to see my work.”

“That’s amazing, angel,” Bucky exclaimed. “How can I help?”

“I’m almost done. I just need to finish this one. Can you grab that sheet of plastic on the desk? We’ll wrap it in it and then we’ll use a piece of canvas for extra protection.”

He followed your instructions and made sure not to ruin your hard work. Once the canvas was in the tube, you placed it against the wall next to two similar tubes. Then you cleaned up and put away your tools.

“I don’t know if Steve told you but-”

“Yes, I know,” Bucky cut you off. “The date. It’s great. Honestly.”

“Yeah.” You lowered your gaze and studied your shaking hands, unable to meet his eyes. “Listen, I was thinki-”

“I really need some time to myself anyway,” he talked over you. “So it’s great, y’know? We all get what we want.”

“I guess,” you replied. “It’s getting late, I should go to bed.”

“Getting up bright and early tomorrow, uh?” The jovial tone in his voice sounded forced, even to his ears. You nodded mechanically. “Well, good night.”

“Good night.”

You both stood unmoving, staring at each other. Your eyes were asking for something, pleading with him, but he was too lost to understand. He was lost in his own feelings, remembering something Sam had said a while ago.

There’s an entire world between like and love.

And it was true.

Like was doing the dishes with you. It was laughing and screaming while you chased each other around the living room, using fairy lights as lassos. Like was booping your nose when you watched him cook dinner. It was speaking gibberish after watching a foreign film.

Love was that sweet agony that made him feel more alive than he had ever felt. It was letting you hold his hand and play with his fingers even though his nose felt itchy. Love was seeing you wrap his bow tie around your wrist like a bracelet. It was walking around a deserted planetarium with you.

Love was the colour of your favourite lipstick; Carter Red.

“Thanks for your help,” you said, interrupting his train of thought.

“My pleasure.” He tried to smile but it hurt.

Everything made sense now. His crankiness and irritability, his sudden aversion to his oldest friend, the one who had saved his life. The one who had asked you out on a date –or so it seemed.

“Sweet dreams...” he paused, considering, then used your name instead of your usual pet name.

He had no right to call you ‘angel’ anymore. Steve had asked you out first, he had asked Bucky multiple times if he was okay with that, and Bucky’s answers had always been a gritted ‘yes’.

The truth was, his epiphany didn’t change anything. He wouldn’t have asked you out because there was too much at stake: your friendship, your livelihood, your career, the well-being of your family. He couldn’t put you in an uncomfortable position, couldn’t ruin your hard work.

And he was terrified of these feelings. They were too new, too raw.

You pinched your lips together and nodded, avoiding his eyes. He clenched his jaw hard, hating the resigned look on your face. Why did you look so defeated? Without saying anything, you walked past him and left the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Part 9

[myhockeyworld87]

Not So Dangerous Liaison - Sidney Crosby - Part 23

Word Count: 4,542

POV: Starts with the Reader then switches to Sid’s

Warngings: Language, NSFW, Smut

Notes: Sorry this is so late tonight, but well you know life, but here it is finally. Last when we saw these two, Sid had screwed up when he tried to apologize to (Y/N) and accused (Y/N) of flying back to Pittsburgh and sleeping with another man, his teammate. Now let’s find out what happened. As always love your feedback and Happy Reading! Let me know what you guys think.

Not So Dangerous Liaison Masterlist

READER'S POV

 "Are you ok?" Matt asked, throwing an arm around you as your head hung low in your hands. You could tell by his soft voice he wasn't sure if you were crying or not. Oh, you could that was for sure, but not from sadness, it was out of anger.

"No," you mumbled, then stood up and started to pace the floor. "I'm pissed off."

 "I can tell," Cully answered as he watched you move around the great room.

 "Who does he think he is?" It was a rhetorical question, so Matt stayed quiet. "I can't believe he has the nerve to think that I would just fly home to Pittsburgh and just jump in bed with someone. And that for him to think that I would sleep with you!" That came out a bit harsher than you intended. "Not that you're not hot or anything, but you're Dad, you know, and then there's Bridget and…"

 "I get it, (Y/N)." Matt chimed in saving you from further embarrassment.

 "He's just so fucking frustrating." You plopped back down on the couch next to Matt. "He never asked me to move in, you know. He just thinks I'm a mind reader or something. I mean sure I would've loved to move in, had he asked, but did he? NO!" You fought the urge to jump off of the sofa and start pacing again. There was so much tension and frustration that was bundled up inside you, that you just needed to get this nervous energy out of your system. Instead, you reached for the carton of sweet and sour chicken you'd order and shoved a piece in your mouth. It tasted like the cardboard it came in, but that had nothing to do with the quality of the food and everything to do with the nasty after-taste your conversation with Sid had left in your mouth. "I don't really think I'm being unreasonable here…do you?"

 By the look on Matt's face, he was still trying to figure out what you'd said as you hadn't even swallowed the chicken before rambling again. He finished chewing his egg roll, like any normal civilized human being would, though at the moment you didn't feel normal or polite before he answered you. "First off, you're right he should've asked you about moving in." Matt could tell you were about to interrupt him, so he quickly continued. "And you're right about him jumping to a big conclusion about you sleeping with someone, though honestly, I'm quite a catch, just ask Bridget I'm sure she'll tell you that."

 "You are," you said giving him a little wink, even though you'd never looked at him that way.

 "Thank you, now as I was saying, and I'm not trying to make excuses for him here…"

 "I feel like there's a big but coming."

 "But," there it was, you saw it coming a mile away. "I've played with Sid for a year, but I've known him longer than that. You're like the first woman he's ever really had a relationship with. I just don't think he knows how to act." That couldn't be right, you thought. "I mean sure he's gone out on dates and taken someone to an event here or there but nothing like what the two of you have."

 You'd known that he'd been hesitant to get involved with you because he thought it would interfere with hockey but you hadn't really given much thought to him not having experience in a relationship, but what Cully was saying made some sense. "I mean think about it, (Y/N). Hockey has been his whole life until you walked in. He went from being this amazingly talented kid to a superstar center and he's had no chance to experience the stuff that went in between with it. And do you know why that is?"

 You shook your head no, wanting to hear what Cully's assessment was. "Because he's been afraid." Your brows knitted together as you tried to take in that concept. Sid wasn't afraid of anything that you knew of. Thankfully, Matt continued to explain this abstract notion to you. "He's afraid that he'll fail at it. With hockey he can control it, he can work at it. He can go out on the ice and shoot five hundred pucks until he gets that shot right. But this," Matt said, waving his hand in the air then back at you. "This thing he has with you. He has no control over it and that scares the hell out of him. There's no manual on how to be the perfect boyfriend or what to do when you have an argument, and he certainly can't go out to a rink and practice how to do it. He's afraid he'll make the wrong move, probably like he just did, and well…you'll be gone."

 Fuck. That was the only word echoing through your brain. You'd never looked at any of this through Sid's eyes, but you knew that Cully was right. You tossed your head back on the sofa cushion, looking up the ceiling for some sort of divine intervention on what you should do next. "He still shouldn't have said I was sleeping with you."

 "No, he shouldn't have." Matt attempted. "I guess the question is what do you want to do? Is what you have with Sid worth working things out? Are you brave enough to navigate the waters so to speak, where no one else has; helping him along?" You closed your eyes already knowing what you were going to do, but still thinking all your options out. "I remember a certain someone," he jabbed his elbow lightly into your ribs. "Being a bit insecure herself about dating a famous athlete not too long ago."

 You looked over at Matt, head still firmly planted into the headrest of the couch, and rolled your eyes. "Yeah, yeah, and Sid reassured me about everything." Now it was your turn to reassure him you supposed.

 "It's up to you what you want to do. The ball, or puck in your case, is in your rink so to speak."

 "I'm still mad at him," you told Cully, finally sitting upright on the couch.

 "Rightly so."

 "Which means he can stew a little bit longer."

 "Bridget would agree with you." You had to laugh at that because you had a feeling Matt's wife had left him in the dog house a time or two before he was actually forgiven.

 Blowing out a long breath, you'd come to your decision. "But I will forgive him."

 "That's my girl," Cully said then handed back over your Chinese carton to continue eating. "Now that that's settled. Can we finish eating?"

 It was a couple hours later before Matt left for the evening. "Promise me you won't let him wait forever before talking to him."

 "I won't." Though you did want him to suffer just a bit longer.

 "Good, because I have a feeling he'll be blowing up my phone until you talk to him." You walked Matt to the door.

 "Sorry, you got dragged into this mess."

 Matt leaned in and kissed your head like any dutiful dad would that was helping his daughter. "Get some rest. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

 "Night, and thanks again."

 SID'S POV

 You turned over for what had to be the hundredth time in the last hour and looked at the clock. Which literally read twelve minutes after three. Exactly seven minutes from the last time you'd looked at it. Why hadn't she called already? Was she going to? She probably hated you and she had every right to. You were so fucking stupid accusing her of sleeping with someone when all you wanted to do was apologize for the first fuck up you'd made the night before. Instead, you'd gone and made things a million times worth.

 The tone of her voice said it all. (Y/N) was pissed beyond words at the accusation and you knew that had she been standing in front of you she probably would've smacked you across the face; deservingly so. There was no point in laying in bed and staring at four walls so you got up and went to blow off some steam by working out, though it didn't help.

 You were a walking zombie by the time training practice rolled around though you put every ounce of effort you had into it, at least when you weren't checking your phone to see if (Y/N) had called. She hadn't. Physically, you were exhausted and it was only six o'clock at night. Nate suggested going out for dinner but you couldn't stomach the thought of eating a nice meal knowing that your relationship was barely hanging on by a thread, so you opted out and instead just grabbed some takeout at home.

 You'd spoken to Matt a couple times, though all he would say was to give (Y/N) time. How much time though? That was the real question. Should you be jumping on a plane and flying down to Pittsburgh at this very moment or would that make this worse? You'd really made a mess of things and had no clue how to fix it.

 Sleep evaded you again that night, even though you were both mentally and physically exhausted. You finally fell asleep around four-thirty in the morning only to have the alarm go off at six. You dragged yourself out of bed and headed off to train, hoping that it would take your mind off things.

 "You look like shit, man," Nate told you as soon as you walked into the building. "You sure you want to be here today."

 "What else am I going to do?"

 Nate shrugged not having an answer of his own for you. "Have you at least talked to (Y/N)?"

 "No, I haven't called her. I'm trying to give her time."

 Nate looked you up and down a few times assessing you and weighing his words before he spoke again. "I know you're trying to give her space, but maybe you should go see her. I've never seen you like this man."

 "I want to." All you wanted to do was get on a plane and head straight to her. "I'm just not sure it won't make things worse."

 "I know she wanted you to stay and train, but honestly Sid, neither one of us is going to be pushing hard when you're completely exhausted. I'm not saying to fly back and stay in Pittsburgh. Just go there and work things out with her." Nate clapped you on the back. "For both our sakes."

 Maybe he was right. You could just fly down for the day and come right back. All you needed to do was call and get a plane. "You're right. As soon as we're done today, I'm going to call and get it all set up. I've got to win her back."

 "That's the spirit."

 Training went a little better as you formulated a plan to win back (Y/N). You were even smiling some at the end of the day. "So as soon as we get that Tim Horton's shoot done, I'm flying out. Think we can get it done by four tomorrow afternoon?" You asked Nate as you grabbed your bag and headed out of the facility. "The plane can be ready by five, so that gives me an hour to get to the airport. Think that's enough time?"

 You were looking at your schedule on your phone making sure that you could fit everything in before flying and not paying attention when you heard Nate say, "I don't think you have to worry about making that plane." You looked up at Nate not knowing why he would say such a thing when he was the one that suggested you go to Pittsburgh in the first place. He nodded his head pointing in the direction of your Suburban. There stood (Y/N) leaning up against your car.  

 You blinked once and then repeated the action, not believing that she was really there. It had to be some sort of dream. Were you hallucinating? Lack of sleep could do that to a person. But as you drew near, it became evident that she was standing there in the flesh and blood. She looked stunning, wearing a plain belted t-shirt dress; her hair tied back in a simple ponytail, with little wisps framing her face. God, you'd missed her.

 "Hey (Y/N)." Nate's voice brought you out of your musing and you shook yourself, trying to regain your composure.

 "Hi Nate," she waved back, before pushing off the vehicle.

 "Good luck," Nate told then took off for his own car.

 You were too busy staring at the woman in front of you though to pay any attention to Nate. "Hi," you whispered in a small voice, one that was shaky and unsure of how to proceed.

 "Hi, Sidney." You found yourself frown at her use of your name. It wasn't Sid, or babe, or hun, or any of the other million nicknames she called you. "Can we talk?" You wanted to, that was your whole point of planning to go to Pittsburgh for a whirlwind of twelve to sixteen hours, but now that (Y/N) was standing here, you had no idea what to say.

 "Yeah," was the only word that came out of your mouth and you wanted to kick yourself for not saying anything more.

 "Not here," she said motioning to the parking lot.

 No, this wasn't exactly an ideal place to have an intimate conversation about your relationship. "Did you want to go back to the house?" Oh god, maybe that was a bad suggestion. "Or we could go grab something to eat?" Even though that was the last thing you wanted to do.

 "The house is fine." She opened the passenger door and then crawled inside the car before you could say anything else. It took you a minute to gather yourself and walk around to the driver's side. You'd planned on coming up with a whole speech to say to her while you were on the plane. Now you had exactly nine and half minutes, if there was traffic, to think of how you were going to apologize to the woman you loved.

 The ride was silent except for the radio playing in the background. It was weird to drive like this with her. Normally your hands would be interlaced resting on the console in the middle of the car as you drove with your free hand, but as you glanced over you saw that she was sitting on hers. A clear sign that you were not supposed to touch her. It killed you and so your hands remained at ten and two on the steering wheel in a white-knuckle grip as you fought the urge not to reach over and grab her.

 You glanced every so often at her, wondering what was going through her mind. It killed you that she wasn't saying anything. "How was your flight?" you finally blurted out when you were halfway home.

 "It was good. Had a bit of a layover in Philly. So not as good as flying privately with you."

 That flight was one you wouldn't forget. It was the first time you'd been thirty thousand feet in the air and buried deep inside (Y/N). Definitely an experience you'd thought you'd be repeating again. You hadn't expected that you'd be in the car with her now wondering if you still had a relationship.

 By the time you pulled into the driveway, your nerves were shot, wondering if (Y/N) had flown all the way just to break up with you. You tried to think logically and tell yourself that if she wanted to do that, she would've done it on the phone, but knowing (Y/N), she would have to tell you that in person and not take the cowardly way out. She followed you into the house, where you sat your bag down at the door before Sammy came wondering up for her nightly pats. "Hey Sammy, how are you sweet girl?" (Y/N) said bending down to show your dog more affection than she'd shown you.

 You coughed trying to work the lump that was in your throat out. "Can I get you something to drink?"

 "A water would be great." You grabbed two bottles out of the fridge, opening hers like you always did, before handing it over to her, both of you taking a drink.

 "(Y/N), I'm…" you started to say right as (Y/N) said "Sid, I…" The two of you laughed, even though it was hollow, it still broke the tension.

 "Do you mind if I go first?" (Y/N) asked though she didn't really need to as you'd gladly give her anything as long as she didn't say she never wanted to see you again. "I hope you know that I would never, not in a million years, cheat on you. I'm not sure how you jumped to that conclusion but I'm not that kind of person, Sid. If I wanted to be with someone else, I'd be upfront with you and tell you. I wouldn't go running off and sneak behind your back."

 When she took a breath, you jumped in. "I know that (Y/N). I truly do. I don't have an excuse for why I said that other than to say that I was jealous and upset, but I'm truly sorry for saying it. I don't know how I can make it up to you."

 "I just don't understand why you think that. Have I ever given you a reason to believe that I would do something like that?"

 "NO!" You shouted, not really yelling at her but wanting her to know it wasn't her fault. "I'm just stupid. Stupid and crazy in love with you, and sometimes…" you blew out a breath. "I'm just so worried I'm going to lose you or you won't love me anymore. I'm not good at this (Y/N). I've never had a relationship last over a couple weeks. I'm afraid I'll do something wrong and push you away, but that's what I did anyhow."

 "Sid," (Y/N) said taking your hands in hers. You relished even that small contact. "You're not going to lose me or do something wrong." She moved a step closer to you, and you breathed in the intoxicating fragrance that was (Y/N). "I love you silly, and yes I was upset that you didn't see my point about staying here, and we both did stupid things, but that doesn't mean I stopped loving you." Her hand came up and cupped your cheek and you found yourself melting into her touch. "We both need to learn to communicate better. No more running away, for either of us." You were surprised she was including herself in this part, but you supposed she considered taking an earlier flight to Pittsburgh running away as well. "Do you think we can do that?"

 "Of course, if you think you can forgive me for being a selfish jerk and wanting you with me all the time."

 She rocked her head from side to side a small little smile playing across her lips. "I think I can do that. Besides, I kind of like that you want me around all the time."

 You pulled her close, so that no distance separated the two of you, as you wrapped your arms around her waist. "You do huh?"

 "MmmHmm." It was then that she leaned up and captured your lips. God, she tasted like heaven. It had been almost four days since you'd kissed her, yet it felt like four million years. You poured all your love into the kiss hoping to show her how much you not only loved her but how sorry you were for everything that you had done.

 When the two of you finally came up for air, you asked her, "So when are you flying back? Tell me that there won't be a car here in fifteen minutes to pick you up."

 "It's actually thirty."

 "That would've been so much more convincing if you weren't smirking the entire time," you told her giving her hips a little squeeze.

 "You're stuck with me until Sunday night. That is if I can stay?"

 "Are you crazy? Of course, you can stay, but where's your stuff?" You distinctly remember seeing her have only her purse with her when she was leaning against the car.

 "Oh, well. I stashed it in the garage before I had the car drop me off at the rink."

 "So, you mean to tell me you planned on forgiving me all along?"

 "I had some very good advice from a mutual friend, that lead me here." She had to be referring to Cully. You definitely owed him when you got back in town.

 "Well, I'll be sure to thank him." You dropped a kiss to her lips again, just needing to touch her in any way possible. "Did you want to go out for dinner? I can change and be ready in ten minutes."

 Her arms tightened around your neck, as your hands moved up and down her sides. "I'd rather just stay in and order if you don't mind."

 "Not at all," you answered with a raise of your eyebrows. "Though there is something I have to ask you." She pulled back slightly and cocked her head to the side in question. "I was stupid before to assume that you'd just move in with me. So now, this is me asking. (Y/N), I know I can be extremely difficult and stupid at times, but there's nothing I want more than to go to sleep every night lying beside you and to have you wake up next to me every morning. Any chance of making this happen?"

 You could see her thinking it over and you weren't sure if she was trying to be cute and make you wait for an answer or if she truly had concerns. "I would love to, on one condition." It was your turn to give her that questioning look. "If it becomes too much, you know being with each other at home and at work; you'll tell me so I can move back to my place."

 "Babe, it's not going to be too much. I don't want you six feet from me now. That's not going to change."

 "I know but if it does…"

 "If it does, we'll talk about it. Like mature adults. I will not storm out of the house and go stay with Geno." She laughed then, the sound music to your ears.

 "Well, then Mr. Crosby it looks like you just got yourself a roommate."

 "And a pretty one at that," you said kissing her soundly on the lips. "Now, what would you like for dinner?"

 "Maybe we should skip that and go straight for dessert?" (Y/N) was peppering you with kisses and making it hard to concentrate. This was your first fight and you weren't sure if you should just give in and go all out for makeup sex or take things slow and continue to talk things over at dinner. The last thing you needed was to make another mistake that's for sure.

 Pulling back ever so slightly from the embrace, you gazed at (Y/N). "Are you sure about skipping dinner?"

 (Y/N)'s hand slid down to your crotch where she cupped your ever-growing erection. "Yes, I missed you." You didn't ask anything more, knowing that you could always order a pizza later. Instead, your lips captured hers, stealing her breath away before you scooped her up in your arms and headed upstairs. One kiss melted into another and then to another until you were laying her down on the bed that you'd shared only days ago. The same one that had felt too big without her lying beside you.

 The two of you were a mess of tangled limbs and you weren't sure who was removing what clothing. All you knew is that neither one of you could be naked fast enough. Your lips traveled down her neck until you sucked on her nipples. Her body arching into your mouth greedily. One hand slid down her stomach, parting her thighs, leaving her open and wanting for you, as your lips started to travel the same path. (Y/N) stopped you though, her hands cradling your cheeks. "I need you inside me." As much as you wanted to feast on her pussy, the pleading tone in her voice had you giving in to not only her wants but yours as well.

 You settled yourself between her legs, grabbing her hips and edging her just that inch or two closer. You could feel the heat radiating off her body even before your cock slid between her folds. She was deliciously wet, and being inside her felt like coming home after a two-week road trip. (Y/N) was everything. She was your shelter from the worst storm. The light when only darkness surrounded you. There was no other woman in the world that was made for you like she was, and with every thrust of your hips and every kiss from your lips, you tried to tell her that. You would articulate it all into words for her later when you were holding her in your arms, but for now, you let your body speak them for you.

 Her legs started to tremble, and you could feel her fluttering around your cock, as she took you in deeper and deeper. You knew she was close and with a few more thrust, you felt her lose control. "I love you," she cried out, right as she hit that peak, and it was those words that sent you spiraling over the edge with her. Your own declaration of love spilling from your lips.

 The two of you laid there for some time. Soft kisses being exchanged here and there as your breathing returned to normal. "I don't ever want to fight with you again," you told her, as your fingers trailed up and down her heated flesh.

 "Me either." She agreed before kissing you soundly. "Though the makeup sex, was kind of fun."

 You shook your head at her, a soft chuckle escaping you. Sex with (Y/N) was always great. "While that was pretty amazing, I'd rather not have you absent from my life and my bed for four days. I was a mess without you." Just then your stomach growled. "I haven't eaten a decent meal since this whole thing went down."

 "Well then, we better feed you before you wither away to nothing." She reached over and grabbed her phone. "I'll cook for you tomorrow. Tonight, you're getting takeout and then after that, I plan on making up for lost time."

 "Sounds good, but I also plan on stocking up for our days apart." You wrapped your arms around her tightly, hating the thought that she'd be leaving in just a few short days, but you knew that when you finally got back in Pittsburgh, she would be there waiting for you, this time ready to build a home with you.  

[otomegema]

title: Convergence Theory, ch. 2 pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader summary: You are a lesser family member of the Gojo clan, so far removed you don’t even carry the name, but you carry the Limitless ability and thus the potential to be a bride to the future head of the clan— a fact you patently reject at fifteen. Twelve years later you are a second grade sorcerer struggling to obtain first grade status when the object of your deepest objections offers you a deal. rating: mature tropes: fake dating/engagement, rivals to lovers, slow romance Link: Archive of Our Own

It had been a logical move to allow Gojo to take down your number, entering it into his contacts with an obscene amount of heart and wishing star emojis by the brief glance you caught over his shoulder. It looked like he was already banking on your acceptance of the deal, but when you parted, your to-go sushi in a small plastic bag, you hadn’t expected to hear from him until tomorrow evening at the latest.

Or maybe even never.

But now, back in the hotel you were being comped for while in Tokyo, you wished silently that you’d never given that man your cell phone number.

Honey

Baby

Future-pretend-love-of-my-life

Have you made a decision?

He wasn’t human. It was barely 6am, did he wake up this early for lessons every day? You groaned, nearly swatting the phone off the nightstand in the dark.

You shot back a fast reply.

-oh I’m sorry

-I’m still recovering from getting electrocuted the other day

-Some asshat led a curse to me

You rolled over, managing to get at least another decent half hour of sleep in before the phone chimed again, lighting up the darkened hotel room.

\(★ω★)/

YOUR asshat

Should you choose to accept this mission

You threw off your covers, forcing yourself up to sit against the stack of pillows behind you as you tapped out a reply.

-My pretend asshat

-Mother will be so proud

The dots of his reply began immediately.

So is that a yes?

You sighed, rolling your eyes to yourself.

-Day isn’t over -Hasn’t even started tyvm

The dots began. Stopped. Began and stopped again, this time not reappearing. You tossed your phone onto the bed and teetered up and over to the coffee maker. The pot was finishing brewing by the time your phone chimed again.

You’re so slow.

The addition of punctuation and the sudden lack of emoji seemed almost like a warning flare that Gojo’s patience was waning. But you hardly knew the man and really, what did you care? A favor for a favor was what he offered. You didn’t owe him anything.

I have other options too.

His text continued and for a moment you frowned, wondering if his intention was to have that sound like a threat. You felt heat rising in your throat— he didn’t want to play that game.

So no pressure. Genuinely.

Oh. Good. That was better. You felt the tension uncoil as fast as it had grown.

Tho I AM your only hope for advancement <3

You could have thrown the phone right through the wall. Your thumbs worked rapidly, shooting out your reply in no time.

-Ah yes, your finest quality

A quick appearance of dots.

My special grade ranking? (･ω<)☆

You smirked.

-Humility

You’re no fun.

Text me when you are done being boring.

This was probably the most you had ever spoken to Gojo, despite having seen him on and off from a distance for the better half of your life. He was hard to miss. Every event at the main house would have him and his immediate family at the forefront. No one ever stopped talking about Gojo Satoru and his accomplishments and his strength and his skill as a sorcerer.

It was nauseating, having to pretend to nod and smile like it was all some great blessing just to orbit near him. It was bad enough he read like a sun to your abilities, as if he needed to be made to think he was anymore of the center of the universe.

Your palm itched. The desire to tap back a response now, a firm denial, very strong. But not stronger than your excitement at the possibility of being a first grade sorcerer. It was everything you had wanted. Prestige, recognition, tougher missions and the pay and rewards that came with them.

You were no weakling. Sure the telemetry technique took you out of commission, but it was hardly your greatest feat. You had finally been able to manifest the cursed technique lapse, blue. Granted, it was a one off and exhausted you so fully afterwards that you nearly fainted on the spot… but your tolerance was getting better. The precision of your manipulation of your cursed energy would never be on par with Gojo, but you could, some day, maybe even manage to shoot the technique off twice.

Reversal Red was next to impossible. And Hollow Technique? Truly impossible. The Six Eyes was needed to even attempt it. Most of your practice had been devoted to perfecting your long distance teleportation skills, fine tuning your telemetry technique and working on establishing your domain. That one was easier. The Unlimited Void crushed your opponent beneath an overload of sensory information, information you could easily channel and tap into with your own unique skills as a Limitless user.

But like all things, you were only second best. And barely. It was a joke. Comparing yourself to Gojo. He was on a level you could never achieve— unless.

You grabbed your phone, hastily dialing the new number and wincing at the loud, cheerful greeting from the other line.

“Good morning, moon of my soul, tenderest heart, darling—!“

“I haven’t even said yes yet, you monster.”

“Ah! A name of my very own? Be still my trembling heart!”

“I wish to make an amendment to the agreement.”

There was a lengthy pause. You could practically hear the slow spread of that sly smile. Content as the cat who caught the canary.

He knew he was about to win.

“Let’s hear it.”

“If you are putting my name forward for first grade, that means you have someone else in mind to be the second backer and someone in mind for me to shadow on missions and train with, yeah?

“I do.” Gojo said, his tone surprisingly serious.

“Have them put my name forward instead. I want to shadow you.”

Gojo laughed, a short mirthless thing, “What makes you think I have the time?”

“You have enough time to play pretend, I’d think any fiancé would leap at the chance to be with his lovely wife-to-be and keep her safe.”

Gojo hummed.

“Why me?”

This was an oddly familiar conversation.

“Purely selfish reasons. You are the best Limitless user. I am a Limitless user. I want you to teach me.”

“You aren’t on my level.” He said, no malice in his words, just simple facts.

“Then teach me what I can handle.”

There was another pause.

“I’m not gonna go easy on you just because you’re my girl.”

The bare utterance of the endearment sent a shiver up your arms and not an entirely pleasant one either. His girl. God, how would you even begin to explain this fake engagement to your parents? Who knew the depth of your jealousy and bitterness over Gojo since you were— what? Five? Younger?

“Since I am just your ‘pretend’ girl, I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“Your funeral, babe.” Gojo said, “But I’m glad we resolved this early! Because we are having dinner. Reservations are made, I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something pretty!”

Your words caught in your throat, stuttering across your tongue and unable to force out before the line cut off and he was gone.

You pressed the edge of your phone to your temple, already feeling a headache coming on. Something pretty? Shit.

-Something pretty? -Too vague. I have no idea what I’m supposed to wear.

A dress! Something for the evening. A Line.

V Neck def

Show off what puberty gave ya (＾〃＾)

Chiffon with ruffle lace

And grey-blue

-Why?

To match my eyes <3

-Where in the world do you expect me to find that specific dress in the next few hours

Downstairs with hotel staff I had it dropped off <3 <3 <3

-That’s creepy

(つω`｡) </3 </3

-Enough with the hearts -How much? I’ll pay you back

It is a gift <3

-How’d you even know my size

A gentleman never reveals his secrets

┐(‘～` )┌

You sighed and set aside your phone to call down to the front desk. Sure enough, a few minutes later someone brought up a large white box, tied with a grey-blue ribbon. You set the package on the small counter in your room’s kitchen and opened the lid, brushing aside soft tissue paper.

The dress was ridiculously soft, made of fine, nearly translucent layers of chiffon. It was a lovely color, the sight making you suddenly think of the feeling in the air before a thunderstorm, the smell of rain. The ribbon matched.

You looked for a price tag and found none, but folded away at the bottom of the box was a hand written receipt. You paled at the figure displayed on it.

-Gojo, I can’t possibly accept this.

Don’t be stupid. No one would believe I was serious about a woman unless I was positively spoiling her rotten. s’not like it broke the bank!

-Forget the first-grade rec

-Pay my bills

Too late! Negotiations are closed :)

-So what the hell am I doing at this dinner?

Eating Duh and being seen with yours truly easy peasy right?

You sipped your coffee, keeping the mug well away from the dress. It was certainly nicer than anything you had ever owned in— well. Ever. It was hard to argue that there were clearly going to be some additional perks to this arrangement you hadn’t previously thought of.

Plus we gotta go over some ground rules

-Thought you said negotiations were closed

-This mean we can revisit my bills?

g2g

Students need me!

Ttyl babe

The ease in which that man showered you so soon with endearments was nauseating. Had he ever even had a girlfriend before? Or just those usual moon-eyed women who fawned and petted him?

And now everyone was gonna think you were one of those girls. You drank your coffee faster, relishing in the way it burned down your throat and overpowered the bad taste in your mouth.

“First-grade… first-grade. Remember the first-grade.”

And training. You’d squeeze every possible benefit from this arrangement out that you could. Sorcerers worked in teams, but at the end of the day, it was every man and woman for themselves.

Let them think what they want when you were seen tonight. You would come out on top.

***

The day passed quickly and you found yourself standing in front of the hotel mirror, twisting back and forth to get a feel for the movement of the dress— and half practicing staying upright in the heels that had arrived not even a moment later.

They were high enough to be appealing, but low enough to keep you from falling over on your face. Gojo had texted an explanation that he figured you were out of practice in wearing anything other than sneakers and combat boots and to consider them training wheels.

You’d wanted, once again, to punch him in the face.

The kind of girl he liked was a stilettos kinda girl, you guessed, huffing to yourself as you sat down and twirled one of your ankles, stretching the muscle. Even the low heels were not entirely comfortable, but you’d manage.

Checking your makeup one last time, you picked up your own worn purse and slung it over your shoulder. Women who wore these kind of dresses and came in on the arm’s of other men and women like Gojo never had anything more than the smallest clutch— but you weren’t those women.

You made your way down to the lobby and were surprised to find a chauffeur waiting outside with a very very sleek European car of some kind. You weren’t great about those kinds of things, only noting the seats were made with soft black leather and there was even a divider built in like in a limo to give the passengers privacy.

The chauffeur ushered you into the empty car and you sat back with a sigh as silently he delivered you to the next destination. You had, in some small place, hoped Gojo would already be present.

Why he felt the need for such spectacle was beyond you, but maybe this was what was expected of a clan family son when he courted a young woman. It felt— weird. Nice, but weird. The drive was not overly long, the car coming to stop.

You knew this restaurant. Some fancy French-Japanese fusion place that charged a hundred dollars for a single plate with a broiled pear covered in wasabi or some weird shit. Already you felt your stomach churning with anxiety and encroaching regret.

This was gonna suck.

This was gonna suck so bad.

The chauffeur opened the door and you barely managed not to wobble on the pavement. Feeling stilted and exposed as other guests and couples regarded you with open curiosity and veiled judgment.

Clearly they were used to seeing the same people come and go from this restaurant and you were not one of them.

You clutched your bag tighter to your arm, hand reaching inside instinctively to find your phone and text Gojo you were out. This was over. Find someone else— when your surname was shouted from the door.

All eyes turned as if in sync to Gojo, wearing simple trousers and a white shirt tucked in. He didn’t even have a tie or a jacket, his dark glasses obscuring his eyes even as he looked right at you.

A few people tsked their disapproval, but they may as well have been ghosts for all the attention Gojo paid them. When you didn’t immediately make your way over to him, Gojo shoved his hands into his pockets and strode over to meet you.

He grinned, the lowering of his chin and the slow rise back up an obvious indicator he was sizing you up and didn’t care if you knew.

He whistled.

“Ow, ow!”

“Shut it— you know this dress could cover my rent for half a year?! And these shoes! I could buy a used car with this ensemble.”

“You even drive?”

“Not the point.”

He laughed again, loud and careless.

“Figured since you were dawdling you might need an arm to lean on.” Gojo said, offering your his elbow without removing his hands from his pockets, “Or perhaps…”

He feigned a gasp, “Are you feeling shy?”

“I’m leaving.” you deadpanned, managing half a turn before his hand was on your waist, turning you back. He took your hand, the feeling of his palm on your side still burned into your skin as he hooked your arm in his own.

You allowed it, leaning on him only a little. He looked pleased, smugly so, as he led you inside and to a table that was already set for two.

There was a wine glass sitting by your own plate. The one by Gojo’s was turned upside down and set to the side… a can of soda sitting, bright and out of place, in its spot.

“… where did you even get that.”

“Vending machine.” Gojo said simply and even kicked your chair out a little for you to take a seat. How flattering.

“Wine is for you, if you want it. Figured it might help take the edge off.”

You rolled your eyes, not bothering to wait for the server to return and simply tipping the bottle of red into your own glass.

“What about you?”

“I don’t drink.” He said, cracking the tab on his soda with a loud pop. Several eyes filtered your way, whispers behind hands and napkins as Gojo all but drained the can in one gulp.

“So— ground rules?” you said, unfolding a cloth napkin and settling it in a half folded triangle across your lap the way you saw other women doing.

“Straight in, huh? Alright. Terms.” Gojo lifted one finger, “As already discussed, you and I will be ‘courting’— dating. Whatever the fuck. I’ll take care of arranging the dates, you show up, act sufficiently smitten and in about a year give or take, we break up.”

Gojo lifted a second finger, “Two. In exchange, I have two first grade sorcerers who will back your promotion. And, as requested—“ Gojo’s voice dropped a fraction, almost grumpily, “—you’ll come with me on my missions for your first semi-grade probation.”

“Now ground rules. At any point either of us wants out, it’s done. No questions asked. But don’t think that means you get to ditch and just keep that first grade appointment. I’ll make sure you end up right back at a grade two.”

You sipped your wine, giving your mouth something to do than form some very choice words at that moment. Gojo noticed, his smile almost a snarl, but the expression quickly vanished. You had a funny feeling trying to hoodwink or swindle him would end very poorly for anyone.

“And when you develop feelings for me—“

“If.” You amended quickly, but Gojo ignored you.

“—when you develop feelings for me. You have to tell me and again, the engagement is over. You can keep your rank. No harm no foul. I can hardly blame you for falling for me.” Gojo said with a wistful sigh. You were grateful for the arrival of the first course, forcing you both to fall silent for a moment until they departed.

You had no idea what was on the plate. Some kind of salad? It was hardly a mouthful. Gojo didn’t even touch his silverware and feeling less than impressed with the cuisine, you didn’t either.

You drank your wine.

“Barring sickness or injury you are required to appear for every date I set. Including the ones where you have to meet other members of the main family.”

You frowned, but didn’t object.

“Wait— what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Is the engagement off when you develop feelings for me?” You said lightly, trying to play off your smile as wistful.

Gojo scoffed, his reaction almost enough to hurt your feelings… just a little bit.

“Non-issue. I don’t do feelings.”

“God, you sound like a fuck boy.” The words came out before you could stop yourself, the last syllable off your tongue right at the moment the server had returned to reclaim your plates. An eyebrow was raised and you hid your face down with a flustered cough.

By the time you looked back up, you got the joy of seeing Gojo staring at you from over his glasses, a broad and deeply amused grin on his face.

“Not non-issue. If I get the feelings rule you get the feelings rule. End discussion.”

Gojo shrugged, again not touching the newest course which was, to your extreme annoyance, some kind of grilled pear.

“You should slow down.” He warned in a sing song voice as you poured another glass.

“I’m not a baby— okay. So we got terms, we got ground rules. Anything else?”

“You can’t refuse my gifts.”

Your eyes narrowed sharply and he simply smiled and hummed with a shrug.

“It’s for appearances! Oh. Speaking of appearances—“ Gojo sat up, fishing something from his back pocket and sitting it on the table. You stared at the simple black box, fearing a vein might burst in your forehead at any moment.

“What is that.” You stated more than asked.

“Open it.” Gojo said, his voice light and encouraging as he nudged the box closer, “Come on, open it. Open it. You know you wanna, sweetie, light of my life, fire of my lo—“

You snatched the box up if only to stop him from finishing that sentence.

You swallowed hard, the sounds of the room fading out as you flipped open the box and found, sitting upon a small satin pillow— a… key?

You lifted it from the box, noting it even had a little custom keychain made to look like a white cat with a tiny blindfold.

“It’s to my apartment!” Gojo announced with a giddy laugh, clasping his hands together in a way that was entirely un-adult like.

“… I have my own place. Thank you.”

“In Kyoto. This is here, in Tokyo. Where you will need to stay for this all to work, remember?”

“Where will you stay?” You asked dryly, vaguely hoping his answer would be something other than what it was no doubt going to be.

“Very funny. You’ll have your own room—if you want it.”

“Why—“ your voice nearly broke and you had to take a moment to clear it, “Why uh— why wouldn’t I be wanting my own room?”

“Feelings are off limits, naturally. But if you want to take me up again on that offer from back in the day…”

The surge of cursed energy that rippled off of you was so strong Gojo nearly toppled backwards, his laugh gaining a somewhat nervous lift to it if only for just a moment.

“I’ll have my own room. My own locked room.” You bit out, feeling your face flushing hot and hating every second Gojo seemed to be enjoying your utter mortification, “Unless that is a problem.”

“Nope. Not at all. Probably for the best ultimately, I’ve been told I have a bad habit of dickmatizing folks.”

“… I’m sorry, you what.”

“Dickmatizing! Ya know. Like hypnotizing but with—“

“I got it!” You groaned, pressing your face into your hand. When did it get so damn hot in here? You snatched up your wine glass and finished off the contents, feeling even hotter.

“Is that all?”

“Unless anything comes to your mind, then yep.” Gojo finished, ignoring yet another course. You were almost tempted. The dish was some kind of meat, but the sauce drenched over it smelt sharply of something bitter and sour at the same time. You stomach recoiled at the thought and yet rumbled in protest to its growing hunger.

“So what do you think?”

“You’re disgusting?” you said flatly.

“I meant about the deal.”

You glowered openly at him. It was going to take a lot of practice to turn that deprecating expression you felt naturally pull unto your face at his sight into something loving and tender… but for first-grade ranking? For lessons on your Limitless? Fuck. Fuck you’d do it.

You poured the remainder of the bottle into your glass and polished it off in one shot.

“I accept.”

Gojo clapped his hands together, “Excellent! Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Huh?” You barely managed to get the questioning sound out before Gojo was up and out of his chair. You scrambled up, head rushing with the wine and the weirdness of this entire conversation. By the time you managed to catch up with him, he snaked out his arm and wrapped it around your waist, pulling you flush and warm against his side.

You about threw him across the room, but your attempts at a grapple were thwarted by the sudden thrumming of the familiar Neutral Limitless ability, stalling your moments to such a small speed you felt suddenly frozen.

The impulse to toss him passed and instead you let him escort you outside where the car was still waiting.

“Take us to the place, ya know the one.” Gojo said to the driver and in a surprising show of gallantry, actually held the door open for you to get in first.

“And open the back window. If she throws up, I’d rather it be on the pavement.”

You elbowed him in the chest— accidentally of course.

***

The car drive was a bit longer, taking you away from the glitz and glamor of this side of Tokyo and to what looked arguably as one of the most hole-in-the-wall noodle joints you had ever seen. The street kitchen was small, the counter open outside with a few bar stools. The smells of teriyaki and spices and cooking oils were heavy in the air and made your mouth water.

Gojo perched on one of the stools and you came to sit alongside him, watching as he ripped open a set of chopsticks and rubbed the splinters off.

He ordered quickly—yakisoba and yakitori. Along with several packages of mochi they kept behind the counter in the same kinda plastic bags you’d find at a convenience store.

Gojo had been right— you should have slowed down. The world had a light haze to it… a slight tilting. His hand on your back felt massive and overly warm as he guided you back to sitting straight.

“Eat, ya lush.” He ordered, piling noodles and chicken unto a smaller empty plate for you from his own, “C’mon.”

Gojo popped one of the mochi bags and dumped the sticky sweet confection right on top of your yakisoba. You grimaced, picking the sweet off and trying to wipe some of the sauce from it before you took a generous bite.

The food was greasy and delicious and abundant and cheap and your mouth was in heaven. Even having not used your Limitless since yesterday, every taste still felt heightened. Maybe it was the way your cursed powers tried to compensate from the wine, but everything somehow was more delicious.

You attempted to snag another piece of yakitori from Gojo’s plate, only to have your chopsticks blocked with a clack.

“Ah ah ah— hands off.”

“What’s yours is mine, right?” You chided, only to be dodged again in a movement faster than your eyes could perceive. Did he just use his Limitless to counter you? Feeling emboldened, you activated your own, the faint pulse of the energy so close together giving you the sort of deflecting feeling one experiences when holding two sides of the same magnet near together.

Repelling, shifting. Trying to shove the energy into a way that the two forces would collide rather than deflect.

You were concentrating fully. The minuscule movements invisible to even your eyes, but the feeling was there. A sort of blindsight where you didn’t need the Six Eyes to tell you what was happening— but it would have definitely helped. You flicked a glance up and lost your control, your chopsticks shooting away and nearly cracking one in two.

Gojo chuckled. It was the expression on his face that had distracted you. His eyelids were half dropped, his smile soft as he readied himself to deflect you again. Your energy was no match for his… but it matched. It was made of the same stuff. Controlled the same way. He could see, with the sharp clarity of his Six Eyes, every tiny precise movement you made with your cursed energy. A mirror of his own abilities in miniature.

He was playing with you. And all the sudden you felt as if a small knot in your chest had shaken free, the coil coming undone.

Was there anyone else on this Earth you could do such a thing with?

Feeling strange and suddenly shy, you drew your energy back in and refocused on eating from your own plate, grumbling at your loss.

A second later, Gojo’s chopsticks moved over your plate, dropping another helping of noodles in.

A small concession. A victory in it's own right, even if it had not won the yakitori.

“Sober up, will ya? But don’t eat too fast. I’m not cleaning up vomit, no way, no how.”

“You’re always so vulgar.” you murmured, speaking around a mouthful of noodles and mochi. Gojo turned and stuck his tongue out at you. A confirmation or a reprisal, you couldn’t be sure.

But regardless, it did something to you he had never managed to do before.

It made you laugh.

[honey-dewey]

Soulmate Imagines

Another short not drabbles but not full stories either! I was completely inspired by a post made by @absurdthirst and really really wanted to write the boys in these scenarios! So I completely ignored both of my active WIPS and wrote this instead. Oops? Enjoy these long and indulgent soulmate imagines!

Total Word Count: 5,179

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Din Djarin:

Soul Tattoo AU

“Shit!”

You hummed, turning your head over, vision fuzzy. Din was rushing around the Crest, and you could see red painting his beskar. Was he hurt? You tried to stand, and then it hit you. Oh. You were hurt.

“Din,” you rasped out, blinking as his fuzzy image came into more clarity.

Din looked at you, helmet trained on your face. “Cyar’ika,” he said, taking your cold hands. “How do you feel?”

“Like I got run over by a herd of Banthas,” you said, shifting and wincing. “What happened?”

“Bomb,” Din explained, gesturing to your torso, where you were wearing a thin robe and nothing else. “Hit your side. Patched you up best I could.”

You nodded, swallowing thickly. “Did it scar?”

Din hesitated. “Some of it will. Nothing on your back though.”

Relief flooded you. You had no idea why you were so worried about your soul tattoo, but you were. The beautiful star map to Aq Ventina spanned your entire back, from shoulders to tailbone, the sides creeping over your waist. You’d done research about Aq Ventina years ago, when the curiosity had finally peaked. You’d read up on the history and knew that it no longer existed, decimated by a droid attack decades before you’d even known it existed.

“It’s a beautiful tattoo,” Din said softly, out of nowhere.

“Thank you,” you said, looking at his helmet. “It’s my soul tattoo.”

Din nodded. “I figured.”

And that was the last it was spoken of for almost five months. The next time it was relevant was during a two day long bounty hunt, when Din left to shower and you sat in your shared inn room, cooing at Grogu.

The shower water turned off, and you heard Din drying off. Then he called your name.

“Yeah?”

“Come here.”

Worried, you stood and headed to the bathroom. “Din?”

“Come here.” His voice bordered on urgent, and you immediately shoved the door open.

You were met with Din, completely shirtless yet still wearing the helmet, in the bathroom, no urgent problem in sight. However, instead of being mad, you were focused entirely on the tattoo that spread across Din’s back.

It was identical to yours.

“Din?” Your voice was tiny, so apprehensive.

He sighed, looking at you and taking your hands. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier,” he said. “But Aq Ventina was my home, so you have to understand that it was odd and a bit painful seeing the star map on your back.”

You nodded. “We’re soulmates,” you breathed. “I didn’t even know you had a soul tattoo.”

Din chuckled. “It’s not like I expose much skin,” he reasoned.

That drew a laugh out of you. “Yeah. But still.” Your fingers danced over the exposed edge of the star map that crept over Din’s side. “Soulmates.”

Din nodded, resting his forehead against your head. “Soulmates,” he agreed. “But only if you’ll have me.”

You smiled. “As if I could ever say no.”

Marcus Moreno:

Color Soulmate AU

To say you were stressed was an understatement. A huge project for Heroics was cradled in your arms, all sorts of papers and binders and information you were carrying to the filing room to be sorted. The stack was tall, which was probably why you didn’t see your boss until you ran directly into him.

“Fuck!” You shouted as you fell on your back, folders going everywhere. Marcus Moreno, your boss, was toppled next to you, also swearing.

“I am so sorry!” You said hurriedly, scrambling to gather the papers, eyes focused on your task. “I really should’ve looked where I was going and-“ you looked up, shock killing your words.

Marcus’s eyes were brown. Very very brown.

You gasped, your task entirely forgotten. “Oh.”

Marcus was staring at you with just as much shock as you were staring at him with. “Oh,” he echoed.

Your fragile moment was shattered by the click of heels and another employee coming over to check on you, her voice frantic.

“We’re fine,” Marcus reassured, standing and dusting himself off. Without saying anything else, he walked quickly away.

Once all the files were secure, you headed back to your desk and pulled out a small box of crayons. You’d never seen color, not ever, so this would be interesting. At least it would be if your hands would stop shaking.

One of your coworkers, Matt, came up to you as you used a teal crayon, marveling at the color. “Oh? You met your soulmate?”

You nodded, looking up and noticing the vibrant purple color to Matt’s tie. “Yeah. Bumped into him in the hall. Literally.”

Matt grinned. “Who is it?”

You cringed, the embarrassment setting in. “Mr. Moreno.”

“Mr. Moreno?” Matt practically yelled. “He’s our boss!”

“Yeah, I know!” You retaliated, checking your clock and scrambling up. “Fuck! I gotta go, that huge meeting is in ten.”

Matt smiled. “Good luck!”

Despite Matt’s wishes, you were fairly certain the presentation was a disaster. Marcus was missing, which was odd, and you ended up tripping over your words and getting a huge migraine halfway through the presentation. After sheepishly explaining the scenario, you were told to go home and adjust, you could redo the presentation tomorrow.

Of course, tomorrow was just as bad. Marcus was actually present, wearing a yellow tie that kept distracting you and forcing your words out in a jumble.

After the train wreck of a presentation, you decided this was a situation that called for a large hot chocolate. Getting one and settling in the cafeteria, you sighed, swirling your drink with a spoon. You were a certifiable mess.

The creaking of the chair brought your attention back to planet earth, and you looked up, nearly choking on your spit. “Mr. Moreno!”

“Please, I think we should be on a first name basis,” Marcus said. “So.”

“So.”

Marcus tapped the table. “I’m sorry I ran off yesterday. I just, well, I haven’t seen color since my- Since Clara died.”

You nodded. “I understand if you don’t want this,” you murmured, looking back down at your drink. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Marcus asked. “No! I’m, well, a little excited.”

That shocked you. “Excited?”

“Yeah.” Marcus nodded. “Excited. Missy’s over the moon, of course.”

You grinned. “Thanks. Sorry I’m so nervous. I’ve never seen any of this before.”

“Really?” Marcus said. “Oh I definitely know what we’re doing first.”

“What?”

Marcus smiled, taking your hands. “You’re going to love sunsets.”

Max Phillips:

Black Mark Soulmate AU 

“Oh no.”

You stared at your boss with nothing short of mild fear. Max fucking Phillips. There was no goddamn way. You’d known him very briefly in college, but this, this was unexpected.

He smiled at the employees, shaking hands as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

As if his right palm wasn’t the color of fresh stained ink.

He walked up to you, holding out his ink stained hand. You were hesitant to accept. After all, your right hand was equally black. But handshakes were common, very common among soulmate meets. Max Phillips was not your soulmate.

You were able to tell yourself that until the moment your hands touched, the blackness turning into a beautiful swirl of bright colors.

Max’s eyes widened as he looked at you. “Your hand.”

“Yours too,” you said, letting go of Max’s hand and letting him examine the watercolor of reds and purples that spread across his skin.

Max took a nervous breath. “No. Something must be wrong.”

You were shocked. “Max. Is it really that bad?”

“You don’t understand!” Max snapped, scaring you a tiny bit. He leaned closer, so you could see the devilish gleam in his eyes. “I have no soul.”

Your blood chilled as you saw the overly sharp teeth and the hint of red behind the deep brown in Max’s eyes. “Max.”

But he was gone, disappeared from right in front of you. Blinking a few times, you turned to your computer, determined to uncover the truth about your mysterious boss and the still tingling rainbow of colors on your palm.

Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales:

Countdown Soulmate AU

The countdown timer was surprisingly unnerving.

Actually, was it really that surprising? It was counting down to the most important day pretty much ever. Yours had always had years and years, much longer than any of your friends, but you didn’t mind. That was just more time to prepare.

Of course, when you woke up one day to find that the timer that had read seven months suddenly read twelve hours, you freaked the hell out. Taking deep breaths, you calmed yourself and got dressed, texting your best friend and asking him when he wanted you over for movie night. He responded with eight, and promised that you’d love his friends.

With one last deep breath and a glance around your apartment, you left for the day.

And ended up with a popped tire on the side of the road ten minutes before eight.

Screaming your frustration into the night darkened woods and frightening some poor birds, you sighed and called roadside service. An hour, at least, before they could get to you.

Your next call went to Benny, who you apologized to and told him you’d make it up to him.

Your final call was to no one. You simply sat back in your car and waited for roadside service while you tapped away at some mind numbing game you’d downloaded on a whim.

Headlights were visible in the distance not even ten minutes later, which shocked you and then worried you. Who the hell was out on this road this late at night? Were you about to be murdered? Who would find your body? Would Benny still hold true to his promise and wear a lime green tutu to your funeral?

The car stopped when it saw you, and your anxiety skyrocketed. You quickly texted Benny one last time and locked your car.

“Hey!” A few sharp knocks and a face in the window. “Do you need help?”

You were trembling, trying to keep a brave face. “Tire popped.”

“Oh.” The voice sounded genuinely worried. “That sucks. Where are you headed?”

“A friend’s house.”

“Did you call roadside?”

“An hour.”

“Oof. Hungry?”

“What?” You looked over, seeing the dimly lit silhouette of a man holding up what was probably a granola bar. “Yeah actually, I am.”

The man’s cheeks lit up, and you assumed he was smiling. “Well you’re gonna have to open up if you want it.”

You hesitantly cracked the door and watched the man step back. The car lights illuminated him fully, revealing a very attractive man holding a slightly squished granola bar.

Turning in the seat so that your legs were hanging out the car, you took the offered food, smiling as you ate. “Lord this is good! Thank you!”

The man shrugged. “No problem. I’m Frankie.”

You mumbled your name around the granola bar, and then froze as your wrist burned warm and then cold, a clattering alerting you to the fact that your timer had fallen off.

And from the look on Frankie’s face, so had his.

He looked back up at you, seemingly nervous. “So can I get in the car now? I promise I’m not a creep.”

You nodded, still slightly shocked as Frankie got into your car, sitting in the passenger seat. It was silent for a minute before you spoke. “So. Soulmates.”

“Soulmates,” Frankie agreed. “I’m glad I shared that granola bar with you.”

Your phone pinged, and you swore softly, answering Benny’s text and then rereading it. “Do you, by any chance, know a Benny Miller?”

“Yeah,” Frankie said. “I was headed to his place when I saw you.”

“Me too.” You showed him the text, which read ‘Dude! Be careful! My buddy Frankie’s coming along, so if you get attacked, he’ll totally protect you. Also, totally not wearing that tutu because you’re not dying first.’

Frankie smiled. “You’re in on the tutu thing too?”

You laughed. “Oh god! Not you too!”

“Yeah!” Frankie said, laughing along with you. “Benny totally already has it, y’know.”

You sighed. “Damn. That’s wild.”

The hour until roadside service arrived was filled with stories and bonding. After your car was towed, you got in Frankie’s truck and headed to Benny’s, arm in arm.

“Hey, Frankie found the murder victim!” Benny said happily, opening the door. “Oh shit, dudes I was starting to get worried about you.”

Frankie shook his head. “Actually, it couldn’t have played out better.”

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels:

First Words Soulmate AU

You sighed, taking a breath. Today you were meeting your baby brother’s coworkers at a work party. It wasn’t supposed to be so damn nerve wracking, but your stomach was a ball of anxiety. “Danny, are you sure about this?”

Danny, or as he was better known at work, Tequila, nodded. “Hell yeah, it’ll be fun.”

You tugged your bracelet, trying to cover the words winding across your wrist.

What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?

The Statesman Fourth of July party was apparently a big deal. There were sure as hell a lot of people. You stuck by Danny’s side, smiling at his coworkers and eventually sitting with a woman named Ginger. She was nice, and when Danny wandered off to flirt with someone, she stayed with you, giving you names to attach to faces.

“Oh, and that’s Jack,” she said, pointing to someone talking to Champ. “One of the longest lasting agents we have.”

You eyed Jack. He was handsome, especially with that cowboy hat. He must’ve noticed your staring, because he wandered over and sat down at the table.

“So, what’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?”

You took a breath, gripping the hem of your shorts and trying to think without looking awkward. A thousand responses rushed through your head, and you finally picked one you hoped wasn’t weird. “I dunno cowboy, why do you ask?”

Jack recoiled as if he’d just had ice water poured on his head. Ginger stood, shocked as Jack ran away. “What just happened?”

You were nearly speechless, tears starting to well up. “I think my soulmate just ran away from me.”

After a good long crying session in which you sobbed openly into Danny’s jacket and he vowed to absolutely murder Jack, Ginger gently explained Jack’s past with his previous soulmate. Which sent you into another round of crying and made Danny even more pissed.

He ended up taking you home early to watch shitty movies and eat tons of ice cream, comforting you as you numbly ate half a pint of Ben and Jerry’s on the couch.

When he left for work the next day, you made him swear not to hurt Jack.

You got a call from Ginger two hours later telling you to come pick Danny up.

Marching into Statesman again, you found Ginger at the entrance, lips pressed tight. She led you to the infirmary, where Danny was proudly sporting a black eye and a split lip. Jack was laying in a bed next to him, pressing ice to his cheek.

“Control your fucking brother!” He yelled as soon as he saw you, sitting up in the bed. “He nearly killed me!”

“Oh shut the fuck up!” You snapped back. “You best be glad I’m not petty, or else I’d have let him kill you.”

Jack was, wisely, silent as you helped Danny up and out of the building. Danny was also silent, but was definitely smug about it.

“Y’know I totally won that fight,” he said as you exited the building.

You sighed. “Sure. Whatever. Let’s go home.”

The next day, you got a call from an unknown number.

“This is Jack,” the voice on the other end said when you picked up. “I’m calling to apologize for beating your brother up.”

“Apparently he won the fight.”

Jack snorted. “Sure he did. Look, I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.”

A pause. “Cool. See you around.”

“Yeah. See you.”

He hung up first, leaving you with a dead hole in your chest. When you would see that cowboy again, you didn’t know, but when you did, oh boy was he in for it from you.

Ezra:

Pain Sharing Soulmate AU

You were screaming.

Well, screaming may not have been the word to describe the feeling. No, the agony in your right arm was numbing pain, the kind of pain that brought out animalistic noises and made spots dance across your vision. You writhed on the floor, clutching your upper arm and begging someone, anyone, to make the pain stop. A few nurses you worked with tried to dose you with painkillers, but nothing could touch soulmate pain.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the pain began to fade. You’d had some aches in that arm after a stab that was really painful and you’d assumed some kind of injury that your soulmate had sustained was being treated. But that, that harsh, indescribable pain that had you sweating and panting on the floor with your head spinning, you had no explanation for that.

After that, the nurses set you up in the break room with fluids and a light snack. Your right arm still hurt like hell, but it was manageable now. As time passed, the pain passed, until it was no more than a dull ache once more, with some odd numbness that lingered in your fingertips.

Of course, on the day you decided to try working for a few hours, your soulmate went and got himself fatally injured again.

Gasping and falling sideways, you gritted your teeth through a scream as your gut lit on fire, as if someone had driven a knife into your belly. It was the second time in three days that your soulmate had put you through this. What the hell was he doing?

Yet again, you were put in a room to wait out the pain, probably scaring patients with your sobs and pleads for any merciful god to put you out of your misery. This pain refused to fade, and you completely missed the wail of emergency sirens as a new patient in critical condition arrived.

Eventually, finally, the pain forced you unconscious.

You woke a few days later, breathing deeply as you realized you weren’t in any pain. The faint voice of a doctor met your ears as you slowly regained your senses.

“We’re all shocked they survived. With pain like that, I surely wouldn’t have been as strong as they were. First it was their arm, and then their stomach. We still don’t really know what happened.”

The doctor turned to you, and smiled when he noticed your open eyes. “Finally, you’re awake. We have someone who wants to talk to you.”

You grumbled, trying to string together the past few days. “What?”

The doctor gestured to a man sitting in the other bed in the room. “This is Ezra, our critical patient from a few days ago.”

“I was too busy being stabbed in the stomach to notice any crit patients,” you pointed out.

“Yes, well,” the doctor said with a smile. “He may have some answers for you.”

You sat up, rubbing your aching head and facing the other man in the room.

He looked like hell, face sunken and shining with post injury sweat. You reasoned that you probably didn’t look much better. But the interesting thing about the man was his bandage wrapped right arm. Or more accurately, his lack of an arm that was wrapped in bandages.

“Hi Ezra,” you said slowly, rubbing your temples. “Is this my headache or yours?”

Ezra chuckled. “I think it’s yours,” he said. “I can’t feel any of my own pain right now.”

You sighed. “Doc, can I get some painkillers? I got a headache.”

The doctor nodded, grabbing a few pills, but you shook your head. “The good shit, please.”

Smiling, the doctor picked up a syringe and lifted your left arm, considering your right still felt a bit numb. “Countdown?”

“Nah.”

The doctor gave you the painkillers, and you watched Ezra wince at the pinch from the needle as it hit your skin. Laying back as the painkillers took effect, you sighed, looking at Ezra. “I’d love to stay and chat,” you murmured sleepily. “But this stuff works fast.”  

Ezra smiled. “Don’t worry songbird,” he said. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

Javier Peña:

Soulmate’s Name on Wrist AU

“Get up! New client!”

You groaned, adjusting your top and trotting into the hall, standing with the group of women waving and giggling at the new client. He looked up at your group, a light grin on his face.

“He’s cute,” you said to the woman next to you.

She nodded. “He’s a regular at places like this,” she said. “Says his name’s Javier.”

You froze, the small name tattooed on the inside of your wrist practically burning. “Javier? He got a last name?”

“Not that he’ll share.”

In the end, you were Javier’s lucky victim, mostly because when he asked your name and you responded, his watch-covered wrist twitched. So he was your soulmate. Or at least you were his. He showed you bliss, paid you handsomely, and left without a word but with a spark.

Two weeks later, you ran into him again. You’d been in touch with a man at the US embassy about cartel stuff, mostly that the cartels had been reaching out to people like you and you wanted to stay safe, and the man had invited you to come over and give a statement. You were hesitant, of course, but the man looked kind enough, and the other employees knew him well enough that you felt secure.

“This is my partner, agent Peña,” the man said as he gestured you into a room. “But,” he said slowly, eyeing the bare name on your wrist. “I think you knew that already.”

“I did.”

Javier took a breath. “Can we get this done with?” He said, trying to sound annoyed but only succeeding at stressed.

Your statement was quiet and precise, and before you knew it, Javier was walking you out.

“Javier,” you tried.

“Don’t,” Javier growled. “Just go, forget you ever met me.”

“I can’t!” You all but yelled, grabbing his wrist so he couldn’t walk off. “I’ve been wearing your name since the day I was born, you think I can just forget all of that?”

Javier was quiet. “You think I want a soulmate?” He asked quietly, and you froze.

“I’m sorry?”

“No!” Javier growled, shaking his head. “I mean, fuck. This job, if they find out you’re connected to me, they’ll kill you.”

Your blood went cold, but you kept your composure. “Hate to break it to you,” you said, shoving Javier’s sleeve up and exposing your name written on his wrist. “But we’re already connected.”

From that day forward, you were under protection. You quit your job, moved reluctantly to an apartment that was secured by the embassy, and barely left the brand new apartment for anything. The war on drugs dragged on, and every so often, Javier would shuffle across the hall and find solace in your arms, always leaving before dawn.

One night, after a particularly hard day, you and him were tangled together on the couch, name wrists pressed against each other. Your skin burned and prickled at the intimate contact, but Javier was so lost he didn’t even notice.

“Javi?”

“Hm?”

You smoothed through his hair. “Will we ever be safe enough to be soulmates?”

Javier was quiet. “I don’t know.”

You sighed. “One day, I hope we will.”

Another long silence, and then Javier spoke up. “Me too.”

That morning, you woke up in his arms instead of in an empty bed, wondering exactly how life would shake out now that you had fallen in love with your soulmate.

Maxwell Lord:

Dream Sharing Soulmate AU

“I’m going to cry,” you groaned, pressing your head to the table. “He hasn’t slept in days.”

Your coworker, Ellie, sighed. “Hon, you just gotta keep trying. Go home, rest up. Get some sleep.”

You stood. Ellie was right. Just because Max wasn’t sleeping didn’t mean you had to punish yourself. You’d been going rounds with him for months, and it was really starting to weigh on your own sleep schedule. All you needed, all you wanted was to go home and sleep for days to correct your broken internal clock.

Your apartment was cold when you got back, and you quickly fiddled with the thermostat before stripping and falling into bed, cuddling up with the blankets and falling asleep almost immediately.

Just as with every night your soulmate didn’t sleep, you didn’t have a soul dream. Instead, you had your regular dreams, all nonsensical and silly. You woke up at one point to eat before falling back into bed, still exhausted.

This time, your dreams were different. You were in a soul dream, which meant he was finally sleeping.

“Max!”

No response as you ran around the elementary school, but you quickly skidded to a stop, seeing bullies mock a young boy for his lunch. That was your Max as a child, and you immediately rushed to his aide.

“Max.”

The real Max, the one who was asleep right now, looked at you with worry, finally tearing his eyes off the bullies. “You.”

“Me,” you said softly. “You need more sleep.”

Max shrugged. You knew who he was, after all, who didn’t? But the suave businessman you knew on TV was very different from the scared man you knew from your dreams. “Wasn’t tired.”

“For three days?” You asked. “Max, that isn’t healthy.” You felt a tug on your gut, a signal that your dream was starting. “C’mon.” You held a hand out, offering Max a reprieve. “My dreams are kind.”

He accepted, taking your hand as you led him to your dreams. In your subconscious reality, you were a child again, laughing and ice skating with your parents.

“Can you skate?” You asked Max, still holding his hand. He shook his head.

You smiled. “That’s okay, you can learn.” You snapped your fingers and skates appeared on both of your feet. “C’mon!”

Turned out, Max was an abysmal skater, but he was laughing by the time your bodies were ready to wake up.

“I don’t wanna go,” he admitted, and you grinned, squeezing his hands tight. “Can we do this again?”

“Tomorrow night,” you promised. “I’ll find you.”

For almost a month, you rescued Max from embarrassing or painful dreams, taking him to your more comforting dreams. Occasionally, he’d do the opposite for you when you had a nightmare, but you mostly spent the nights in your dreams, watching fireworks or going swimming. His darkest secrets were no longer secret, and he trusted you with everything.

“Y’know,” he said softly as you and him watched a Fourth of July fireworks show from when you were seven. “We could do this in real life.”

“We could,” you murmured, leaning closer to him. “The fourth is, what, next week? Doesn’t DC do a beautiful fireworks show?”

Max nodded. “We could make our first shared memory.”

You smiled. “We could,” you agreed. “We will. I’m not too far from DC, I can totally drive down on the fourth. I’ll pick you up from work, how’s that sound?”

“Sounds perfect,” Max murmured softly. “Dreamlike even.”

You laughed. “Dork.”

“Hey, you fell in love with me!”

“Yeah,” you said, looking at Max’s firework illuminated face. “I did.”

Pero Tovar:

Color Soulmate AU 

You pressed the leaf between your fingers, trying to gauge how sick the plant was. The grey color didn’t worry you, because you were fairly certain it was still green. “It just needs more water,” you determined, standing and brushing yourself off. “Try watering these plants daily instead of every other.”

The woman you were helping nodded, and you smiled at her as you walked back to your own garden. Rolling your sleeves up, you got to work tending to your plants.

It was hours before you looked up, alerted by the sound of hooves on the ground. A mysterious man was sitting atop a horse, his hair long and greasy, his face creased from what you imagined was a grueling ride. He jumped off the horse and stumbled in your direction, leaning against the fence. You stood, abandoning the plants in favor of helping the man.

He shook off your help, but stopped the second his hand connected with yours and both your worlds exploded with color.

You stumbled back, the sudden colors shocking you as the man reeled from you, his sun battered face full of shock.

“I’m sorry!” You said quickly, steadying yourself and reaching out to the man. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” the man said firmly, right before he passed out.

Two days later, the man woke up, his partner by his side. The blond man had showed up yesterday, introducing himself as William and the mystery man as Pero Tovar.

Pero looked around, nervous as he saw you in the corner, slowly and methodically mending his shirt. “William, quien es este.”

William shrugged. “I don’t know. Not a nurse, from what I can tell.”

“Diles que se vayan.”

“I’m not leaving,” you said, without looking up. “And please continue to talk about me in a language you assume I don’t understand.”

Pero blinked a few times. “You’re smart.”

“I pick up on languages fast,” you said, setting down the mended shirt. “Who are you, Pero Tovar?”

William looked between you two before finally speaking up. “Should I leave?”

“Please,” you said.

William left, and you crossed your legs. “So, who are you?”

“No one you should know,” Pero growled, getting up and grabbing his shirt. “Just forget you ever met me. You have your colors, go live a happy life.”

You frantically tried to keep him in the village, but he left with William as soon as the local medic deemed him okay.

For the next week, you slowly learned colors, finding your favorites with much trial and error. Some of the village women who had lost their soulmates in battles consoled you as you grieved for a man you barely knew, a man who had given you a universe of change and then left as if it had been nothing.

Almost exactly one week later, the sound of hooves rang out again, and this time, you didn’t look up from your gardening. At least, not until the visitor entered your garden, standing in front of your vegetables.

You looked up at him, taking in a much neater and more groomed Pero. He seemed nervous, shuffling from foot to foot.

Standing, you raised an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

Pero nodded, handing you his dagger.

You took the weapon. “What’s this?”

“In my culture,” Pero began. “When a man is ready to settle with his soulmate, he must give them his most prized weapon as a way of showing he is ready to stop fighting and raise a family.”

The dagger gleamed in the sunlight, and you smiled. “Well then, I guess I should make dinner for two, shouldn’t I?”

Pero grinned. “Yes, that would be nice. I’m hungry.”

[arminhug]

hello, pumpkin || annie leonhardt x reader: chapter two

series masterlist

。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

BIRTHDAY GIRL

Annie and I never established that we were friends until her eighth birthday.

In the blossoming spring warmth, I nestled myself in the corner of the bench in the playground’s garden. It was an unspoken fact that nobody really played in the garden; it was a quiet haven for a few of us to read or enjoy solitude, yet it had also become a spot where I waited for Annie every day, and almost every day, had she not been sent home or busy with other obligations, Annie joined me, sometimes speaking, sometimes not. I didn’t mind; I just loved to be in her company.

On this particular day, Annie stood before me, and despite her being the same height as me, her air always made her seem much bigger and powerful.

“My dad says this is for you.”

She handed me a white envelope into which I fervently tore, revealing a gaudy invitation card.

“It’s your birthday on Saturday?” I quizzed.

“No, my birthday is today. But my dad said it was too short notice to invite you to my house today, so you can come on Saturday.”

At this news of Annie’s birthday, I immediately leapt to my feet and braced her in a hug. “Happy birthday! What cake are you having? Are you going to hand out sweets to your class?”

Annie did not hug me back but did not resist. “I don’t like cake, and I don’t like anyone in my class.”

I gasped. “How can you not like cake? Also, who’s going to be at your party if you don’t like anyone in your class?”

“Cake is too heavy and sweet.” She responded monotonously. “Also, you’re the only one coming; it’s not a party, my dad just knows I have a friend now and wanted you to come. You don’t have to.”

Unlike Annie, I didn’t actively avoid the other children in my school. I was still invited to many class birthday parties, I spoke amiably to my peers and I could name a few schoolchildren whom I could consider a friend— yet Annie, the stoic, ash-blonde girl confessing she saw me as a friend elicit such joy within me, I can still remember the feeling to this day if I think about her enough.

“So if I’m your friend, I have to get you a present, right?” I had reminded her of the title that she gave me moments ago.

“No. I don’t want a present.”

“Yes you do, everyone wants presents!” I retorted. “What do you like best in the world?”

“Cats.”

I sat down, sulking. “I can’t get you a cat, Annie. What else do you like?”

Silence.

“Mummy and I can make you something.” I continued, desperate to find something that I could give to my friend. “She’s really good at baking. Do you like cookies?”

“No.”

“Cupcakes?” I refused to give up.

“No! Cupcakes are tiny cakes, you know I hate cakes.”

“Brownies?”

“No.”

“Doughnuts?”

This time, Annie turned away, not meeting the question with a monosyllabic “no”.

“Doughnuts! Annie, I’ll make you lots of doughnuts, okay?”

Annie still refused to look me in the eye. It never bothered me, but I had gathered that she was more inclined to refuse eye contact when she was upset or shy. Before I had the chance to attempt to pry into which flavour of doughnut she would have liked, the bell signalling the end of recess rang. I leapt to my feet and pressed a chaste kiss to Annie's cheek.

“See you later, you doughnut!”

She shoved me towards my line with no malice in the action. “Whatever you say, pumpkin girl.”

“Earth to (y/n)? You’ve been glazed over for the past five minutes. What’s so exciting about the window?”

I blink, snapping out of the saccharine memory of Annie’s birthday. Four pairs of eyes are fixed on me, and I animate myself, taking the doughnut from my plate and shrugging. “I was just thinking,” I respond.

“You sure? Not looking at any hot dudes?” the only other female at the table, Sasha, suggests. Her hazel eyes flicker suggestively over to the group of men kicking a ball about in the park over the road from our favourite local café, which has baked goods to die for (or so Sasha and Connie, the food fanatics of my friendship group claim. I won’t argue—the doughnuts are heavenly.)

“Yeah, c’mon, (y/n)! There are three dashing fellows right here, why do you need to stare at those losers?” Connie chimes in, gesturing to himself and my other two male friends, Jean and Marco.

“Yeah, you wish. My type isn’t idiots,” I playfully smack Connie’s head, the growing stubble brushing my fingertips as I find any way to bring the subjects away from men that I would apparently find attractive.

“On all seriousness, what is your type? We’ve never seen you have anyone about.” Jean interrogates. Great.

It took me a while to figure out that I’m likely not into men. I never quite knew why I got so uncomfortable when middle school brought an array of boy bands that prepubescent teenage girls loved to swoon over, and why I could never answer when somebody asked me who was the hottest, but at the age of sixteen, when I realised my heart was racing upon seeing two women kiss in a film my friends and I had watched, it hit me like a freight train that I was definitely attracted to women.

I chose not to indulge anyone in this knowledge; realistically, I know I don’t have too much to worry about. Sure, my parents aren’t screaming about supporting gay rights from the rooftops, but I know that they have no prejudice towards the community, and my four closest friends would accept me no matter what — hell, Marco told us he was gay when we were fifteen and sixteen years old over a game of Mario Kart and we embraced his queerness with open arms.

So what’s the big deal? I think to myself.

“Does it matter? I’m too busy to date. These university decisions are killing me!”

“Simple,” Jean interrupts, pointing the straw of his ridiculously large iced coffee in my direction. “You come to Marley with Marco and me. Good university, far enough away from your parents, and you get your favourite friends with you for the ride!”

Jean and Marco are one class above Sasha, Connie and I, and decided that Marley University, a small, public school that gained a decent reputation despite it being so new, was the place for them. It was hard to say goodbye once they left school, but the holiday breaks came frequently, and soon enough, they were back for Easter, helping their three younger friends decide on which school to go to.

“Tempting, but probably not. I can’t get over the English department in Sina,” I responded dreamily.

“Yeah, and the crazy entry requirements. You’d have to be a robot to get those grades! Just come to Marley with us, I’m sure the English stuff is fine there, too!” Sasha whined, poking at my hand. I take another bite of my nostalgic treat, shaking my head.

“Guys, I love you all, but I can’t make such an important decision based on my friends. You understand, right?”

“It’s fine, (y/n),” Marco interrupts, his familiar comforting smile gracing his freckled face. “We’ll come to visit you up there, right?”

“Nope. Four of us, one of you. She is coming to Marley.” Jean retorts.

“Jesus, fair enough. I’ll book the plane tickets now!” I tell him sardonically. He elbows me jovially in response and stands, coffee in hand. “Right, we can finish our drinks and snacks on the way outside. It's too nice to be spending it indoors.”

Ignoring the protests from Sasha and Connie, who forlornly protest that they haven't had the chance to order a baked good after their main courses, the majority of the group tail towards the double doors, leaving the duo no choice but to begrudgingly follow suit. The late March sunshine is glorious, beaming down on my face, much like the day twelve years ago I was daydreaming about. It suddenly hit me that today, March 22nd, Annie would be turning twenty years old. This newfound knowledge makes my stomach drop and I cannot control the grief coursing through my being.

It's ever so odd how I can remember every detail about my childhood friend; every memory we shared together, her favourite colour, (black, which I insisted was rather morbid for an eight-year-old, so I coaxed her into putting blue as a second favourite) how on Sunday mornings her father would always pick her up from my house after a sleepover at 10 am sharp to take her to karate, even though she had told me in confidence that she much preferred kickboxing. I couldn't tell you many facts about any other childhood friend who I lost to time; it's only Annie. Every detail of the girl who made my infancy etched into my heart, refusing to leave.

As I force myself back into the present moment, I am aware that maybe Annie was more than just my best friend.

But I was so young. How could I have truly differentiated between innocuous childhood affection and romantic yearning?

“Marco?” I punctuate the spring silence before I can even stop myself. “How did you realise your first crush?”

Marco raises his eyebrows. “Jeez, it was so long ago. I was eleven and I was having a sleepover with my friend. We were on his bed playing Minecraft on his laptop, but I wasn’t even paying attention; I was just admiring his face, how he was so engrossed in the game. My heart was racing because I realised I wanted to kiss him, but I didn’t even think it was biologically possible to like the same sex, so I brushed it off. Now I look back…” he laughs awkwardly, before looking me in the eye, his tone suddenly earnest. “Why, what’s up? Anything you want to talk to me about?”

I stop in the street, completely oblivious to the speed of modern day life around me. Suddenly all I care about is how my stomach leapt when I saw her pallid figure walk through the double doors, into the garden, how I found any excuse to hold her hand, how obsessed I was with the topography of her curved nose, icy eyes, lips stark against her pale skin.

“How do you know for sure you’re gay if you’ve only ever had a crush on one person in your life? Somebody who you haven’t spoken to in eight years?”

。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

[katnissmellarkkk]

Okay, onto my liveblog for chapter two of The Hunger Games :

Katniss’ flashback to falling out of a tree and being unable to breathe is such a good analogy, I steal it all the time in my own fics.

I wish the boy who held her up so she didn’t fall was given a name? Katniss just can’t provide names very easily, can she? 😅

“The odds had been entirely in her favor. But it hadn’t mattered” is actually an amazing quotable moment, someone make an edit pronto 👏

No one’s happy when a twelve year old is chosen but ya know. As soon as that kid turns thirteen, off with them! Fair game! 😭😂😅🙃

Hmmm how many of these kids knew immediately Katniss would volunteer for her sister? The way there was a boy ready to catch her before she fell and the way they all just cleared a path for her...

Katniss’ love for Prim had to be prominent because the other kids all seemed to be aware she would volunteer and Katniss claims this is a completely radical, unheard of thing to do. Sooo yeah. Her school peers probably noticed her a lot more than she realized.

Ooo. I just noticed the word choice in “district twelve hasn’t had a volunteer in decades”

Was there a point in time when Twelve had volunteers?

Awww the mayor being sad that Katniss is probably gonna die because he knows her as Madge’s friend 😭😩🤧.

Awww Katniss got presented a medal when her father died, I forgot 🥺🥺🥺

“Bet my buttons” is the worst phrase in history 🤨😐🤭

I like that Katniss’ dead father still has a reputation around these parts 🤧

Helps my fic writing brain to clock it for future reference

Maybe I’m just not nice but I don’t see how Prim is so wonderful that no one can help but love her. Like idk. I feel like this is just Katniss’ bias leaking through. Which is fine it’s better than some clinically detached narrator I hate those FYI

Omg everyone is saluting Katniss and she’s realizing people adore her 🥰🥰

Also ... does this mean Peeta did the three finger salute to her just before being called himself? Idk random thoughts, ignore me.

Katniss is in danger of crying. If this was me, I’d just be sobbing on the ground already.

Haymitch , the og rebel. Looking right into the cameras and calling the Capitol out.

Also ironic how the first thing Haymitch says to / about Katniss is “I like her!” when he spends the rest of the series pretending he, in fact, does not.

“Oh no, not him” is such a love interest introduction, y’all. Gale never stood a chance.

I like how Katniss considers it bad luck for her that Peeta was called 😅. Like... already taking ownership of the boy, sweetheart?

I feel like this is a good time to remind people that medium height is like 5’10. Stop headcanoning Peeta short. Poor Joshy though.

I like how she has never spoken to Peeta but describes the way his hair falls in waves over his forehead 😭🤧

Seems like Katniss thinks Peeta took being called relatively well.

“He has two older brothers, I know, I’ve seen them in the bakery” why is she already trying to defend herself to the audience like “I wasn’t really paying any attention to Peeta Mellark I just happened to notice he had brothers because I saw them once okay?”

Omg Katniss just outright asserting that Peeta’s middle brother definitively won’t volunteer for him. Girl, you just said you don’t know him or his family 😅😅😅.

“Why him?” Still has such a destined, soulmates feel to it. I know they weren’t destined and that’s what a lot of people admire about their relationship but the writing here has always had such a “this guy right here is her soulmate” slant to it, I’m sorry.

“He’s probably forgotten our only interaction. But I haven’t. And I know I never will.” Still continuing with the soulmate-y narration here, Suz Suz, I see.

Oh my god I don’t even remember this line but it’s so sad 🥺🥺🥺🥺🤧🤧🤧🤧🤧🤧🤧🤧😩😩😩😩😩

“The numbness of his loss had passed, and the pain would hit me out of nowhere, doubling me over, racking my body with sobs. ‘Where are you?’ I would cry out in my mind. ‘Where have you gone?’”

I’m so sad now. 😭😭😭

I like that Katniss said “no amount of pleading from Prim” would affect her mother’s depression, as if Katniss easily believes that her own pleas don’t matter but her sister’s are what’s impossible to ignore.

She really needs to stop putting Primmy on this pedestal though it’s not as cute the second or third read around.

“I suppose now that my mother was locked in some dark world of sadness, but at the time, all I knew was that I had lost not only a father, but a mother as well.” I feel like this is just criminally undiscussed. Katniss didn’t know or understand or grasp what depression even was. Like it’s hard enough for kids to forgive parents who abandon them to mental illness when they’re aware what mental illness is. Let alone if you’re just stuck for months / years, not knowing that your mother was sick, instead thinking she just stopped caring for you.

Omg Katniss saying she couldn’t let Prim go to a community home 🤧. Selfless of her. But also sister worry about yourself.

I’m just kidding, I know it’s her character to only be concerned with her little sister above all else.

Mr. Everdeen hating how coal dust settled on everything in the Seam is such a small but interesting detail.

Omg so the meadow is a common place to find corpses of those who starved to death? We maybe should stop romanticizing it.

I like that Mr. Everdeen took Katniss places with him but was like “Hmm, imma leave Prim home, she isn’t cut out for the hunting life”

Idk Katniss being too afraid and shy to go to the Hob without her dad is such a little kid thing though.

Katniss explaining that she was essentially in the merchants backyard

She was essentially dying in Peeta’s backyard 🤧

Wow, I forgot how blatantly violent Peeta’s mother was

Maybe it’s just Katniss’ perspective but every interaction is just her screaming

Aww, his mother called him a stupid creature, why don’t I remember this.

This is so sad omg.

Poor both of them.

One’s starving to death, the other’s utterly abused mentally, verbally and physically.

What’s a weal?

I always read that word as a welt.

Ok I googled it, it’s a big red swollen mark.

So same thing.

Omg now Katniss is saying Mrs. Mellark hit him with an object weapon. This just keeps getting more and more.... sad.

Honestly I haven’t read the books cover to cover since I was a teenager, some of this is a surprise to me.

I always wondered though how that bread was any good, it literally fell onto the wet ground. 😟🤢

Aww, Katniss saying Peeta would get a full beat down if discovered that he burned the breads to feed her 🥵🥵🥵

Okay but if his mother hit him with an object and his eye swoll up and blackened the next day, that could be another reason why he tossed the bread in her general direction and didn’t look at her. I know it was so he wouldn’t be caught by his mother but also he probably couldn’t even see clearly where she was.

The dandelion symbolism 🤧😅😭🥳

Her sarcasm 🤣🤣🤣

Katniss just keeps comparing Peeta to the loaves of bread 😅😅😅

Also she keeps calling him warm and solid and steady

I’m starting to think unconsciously she was already finding herself attracted to him even here.

Him squeezing her hand reassuringly and her chalking it up to a nervous spasm 🙃

I hope when they got married they got a nice screencap of this shot of them on TV facing the crowd, shaking hands.

Make a nice anniversary photo.

Okay, that’s all for my thoughts on chapter two! 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳

[nebulablakemurphy]

Marry My Husband

Summary: Y/N and Draco haven’t spoken in over ten years when you receive a letter from a dying Astoria Malfoy, asking you to marry her husband. Together you and Draco put the pieces of his life back together. Set around the time of the 19 years later epilogue.

Pairing: Draco x Female Reader

Word count: 3.1k+

Warnings: V long, V angsty.

Masterlist

‘Dear Y/N,

I hope this letter finds you well. Truthfully, I hope it finds you at all. You’re rather difficult to pin down, never in one place too long. Anyway, you don’t know me, but I know you. Know of you rather. Well that sounds a bit intimidating, you’ll have to excuse me. I’m ill.

My name is Astoria Malfoy, Draco and I have been married twelve wonderful years and share one son; Scorpius, aged ten. Since I was a girl myself, I knew I wouldn’t live to be old and gray. Instead I set out to pack as much life into my short time here as possible. Fate has been kind to me in that way, providing me a loving husband and a healthy child. My affliction is passed from mother to daughter, so there is no chance that my Scorpius might inherit it.

By now you are probably wondering what would possess me to write such a letter to a near stranger. The truth is, I’m dying y/n; and as such, I must get my affairs in order. Namely Draco.

My husband is under the delusion that he will live out the rest of his days alone, with the exception of our son. That he will never so much as look at another woman. Never pursue love or companionship again, and Draco is stubborn enough, I was afraid he might succeed.

That was until three weeks ago, when I found your picture tucked into one of my husband’s old trunks. Packed away with other hopes and dreams that he’s forbid himself to want.

I had my sister, Daphne, ask around. It would seem that you are the only person who knows him almost as well as I do. You were there for him at his darkest times during the war. Without you, I don’t think he’d have survived it.

In a strange way, you gifted Draco to me. Now I would like to return the favor. I love him with all I am, but I am on borrowed time. I ask you humbly, to marry my husband; because you are the only person in the world who loves him the way I do.

Best Regards, Astoria.’

———————————————————————

Draco is floored, to say the least; finding you at his doorstep, the day of Astoria’s funeral. He hasn’t seen you since the war ended, since you ended things with him.

“What are you doing here y/n?” His blue-grey eyes emotionless, and his tone clipped.

“Your wife,” you pause to look down at the folded up piece of parchment in your coat pocket. “Astoria asked me to come.���

“Of course she did.” Draco shakes his head. “I hardly expected you to show.”

“It was a compelling letter, any chance of meeting the author?” You ask, unsure of what else to say.

“You’re late,” Draco informs you, “my wife passed nearly a week ago. Too bad she didn’t leave that in one of her letters.”

You stay for the funeral, what else are you to do but honor the deceased women’s wishes? From the pictures, you can see Draco’s wife was beautiful. There’s a boy, you assume to be Scorpius, tucked into his father’s side. Sobbing quietly against Draco’s suit jacket, he looks just like him.

———————————————————————

“How’s your son?” You ask, when Draco sits down across from you, at the coffee shop you’d agreed to meet at.

“As well as can be expected.” He replies, sipping from his steaming mug.

“I got him these.” You slide the brown paper box onto the table.

“Puking Pastilles?” Draco turns his nose up at them.

“They’ll come in handy when he has to be around people, but doesn’t want to talk.” You explain the bizarre gift choice.

“Do you have children?” Draco wonders. When the two of you had discussed it, a life time ago; you were still on the fence. Draco however wanted a large family, but again, that was a long time ago.

“No.” You answer with a shrug. “I tried for a while, but no.”

“I’m sorry,” his gaze suddenly intensifies.

“Don’t be, just wasn’t in the cards for me.” Your eyes move to the half eaten danish on your plate.

“I wanted more.” Draco tells you. “Astoria was always frail, pregnancy was hard on her.”

“Then why risk it?” You ask.

Draco sighs, looking out the window, at the over cast sky. “She wanted to give me a family. I loved her for it. But it accelerated her blood curse.”

You nod, “that makes sense... So where’s everyone else on the meal rotation?”

“Pardon?” Draco furrows his brow.

“Well, when someone loses a loved one their family and friends will normally take turns bringing over food. To help lessen the load.” You explain, there had been a lot of that going around after the war.

“There is no rotation.” Draco clears his throat. “You’re the only one bringing us anything.”

“Not even your parents?” You say in disbelief.

“I don’t speak to my parents.” Draco shakes his head.

“Your friends?” Surely he must have friends.

“As Astoria got worse, she needed constant care, there was hardly time for anything else.”

“What about her family?”

“We don’t get on.” He elaborates, becoming more uncomfortable as the minutes tick by.

“I’m sorry, Draco. I really am.” You wish you could comfort him. “I still don’t understand what made her reach out to me of all people.”

“My late wife was a hopeless romantic. And in her eyes...you are the one that got away.” Draco explains, looking at the wedding band on his left ring finger.

“We were kids.” You laugh, feeling a pang of sadness in your chest.

“I understand it’s inappropriate to send someone who hardly knows you a letter, asking them to move part way round the world, and ‘marry your husband.’ Only my wife was dying, I couldn’t tell her no.” He pauses, to collect himself. “You don’t owe me anything y/n, you don’t owe her anything.” He makes to leave. Pushing his chair away from the table.

“Draco wait-“

“Sorry to have bothered you.” Draco blinks, trying to appear unbothered.

“Stop doing that.” You protest, rising from your own chair.

“What?” He snaps.

“Telling me how I feel, instead of asking.” Then again, he always was that way. “If you’d let me get a word in edgewise, I could tell you that you’re not bothering me. I want to be here for you, I want to be your friend.”

He swallows harshly. “Astoria was my best, and only, friend for a long time. Truthfully I don’t remember how to be around anyone else.”

“It’ll take some getting used to,” you understand. “Why don’t we try again next week? We’ll ease into it.”

“Alright,” he agrees.

———————————————————————

“You seem tense.” You say at the next meet up.

“Odd.” Draco bites out, he’s in good spirits today.

“Very,” you want to roll your eyes at his one word answer. “what’s bothering you?”

“The papers are saying that I’ve moved on to a mistress.” He explains, tossing the latest edition of the daily prophet down in front of you.

“What?” You grab the paper, not believing your own eyes. It’s a shot of the two of you in the coffee shop. “Me? I’m the mistress?”

“I’m afraid so.” Draco mutters, “Rita Skeeter’s been running a smear campaign against me for years. Sorry you’ve got caught up in it.”

“It’s no problem but...just so we’re clear.” You take a deep breath in. “I understand that you’ve already had a wife, Scorpius already had a mother who loved him more than the world. I’m not trying to be either of those things. I only want to be here for you-“

“And to be my friend.” He cocks a brow, “so you keep saying.”

“I promised to come if you needed me.” You remind him of the pact you made over a decade before.

“I wasn’t aware pinky swears between adolescences carry the same weight as an unbreakable vow.” Draco replies, tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Of course they do.” You reply the same way.

———————————————————————

In the beginning, you would drop their dinner at the door step, ringing the bell once, and then leaving them to it. Only seeing Draco for your agreed upon weekly visit. A few months later, you’ve gone from coffee once a week, to being invited inside for dinner each night.

Today however, you’ll be skipping the coffee shop. Today Scorpius is catching the Hogwarts express out of king’s cross station, for the very first time.

“Wand?” You ask Scorpius, nearly at the bottom of the checklist.

“Check.” The boy smiles, he adores you.

“Familiar?”

“Check.” Scorpius taps the caged owl, on his trolly.

“Puking Pastilles?”

“Check.”

“Robes?”

“Check, I think.” Scorpius scratches the back of his neck. “Dad, you remembered to put in my robes after the wash, didn’t you?”

“He’s prepared, y/n,” Draco rolls his eyes at you. “We’re not about to unpack his entire trunk.”

“I know,” you laugh. “I’m just double checking. What are friends for? Besides I have to prove myself useful if I want you to keep me around.”

“Oh, y/n you have to stay!” Draco’s son insists, “you will stay won’t you? I’ll write you everyday, I swear it. Please don’t go.” Scorpius throws his arms around you.

“Hey, I was kidding.” You assure him, holding him tightly, as you stroke his hair; the same color as his father. “I won’t leave, I promise.”

After the train is out of sight, Draco turns to you. His features set into a scowl. “In the future, please refrain from threatening to leave a boy who just lost his mother. Leave me, if you want. Hurt me, if you want, but don’t hurt my son.”

No, no, no. This was taking ten steps backwards from all the progress you’ve made. “Draco I’m...sorry for how it sounded. I was only making a joke, in retrospect, I understand why it upset him. But I’m not here to hurt you, and I won’t leave.” You promise, “unless you ask me to.”

“I didn’t ask you to leave the last time.”

You cringe at his words. Yes, you had left last time. “In all fairness, you didn’t ask me to stay either.”

“I just thought you knew, that was what I- never mind. It doesn’t matter.” Draco sets off in the opposite direction.

———————————————————————

“Draco will be here any minute.” You tell the man aside of you.

“Brilliant.” He replies, reaching for his pen and tablet.

“Do you mind waiting outside?” You say, hoping it doesn’t come off as rude. “I haven’t told him yet.”

“Oh, yes; whatever will make it easier.” Your guest agrees, with a kind smile.

You catch a glimpse of snowy blonde hair rushing out the cafe door. The hanging bell jingling in his wake.

“Draco wait!” You call after him, chasing him down the pavement. “It’s not what you think.”

“It’s not what I think?” Draco arches an inquisitive brow. “It’s not you having lunch with another man? For someone who claimed they weren’t going to hurt me...you’re doing a bang up job.”

“No you don’t understand,” you hold up a finger, signaling him to wait. “He’s not a man.”

Draco scoffs, “I’ll be going now.”

“Well, alright, he is a man,” you backtrack. “But he’s also a therapist. Who specializes in grief counseling, I asked him here to meet with you.”

“Why?” Draco demands, flickering his eyes between the pair of you.

“I knew you’d never agree to see someone.” You sigh, praying Draco will understand.

“So then why did you invite him here?”

“Because you need someone.” You press on.

“I have you.” Draco shakes his head.

“You need a professional, who can help you sort things out and possibly find some kind of peace.” That’s all you want.

“Peace?” Draco spits, angrily. “Let me spell it out, y/n, and then perhaps you can make sense of it. My dead wife penned a letter, to you. Someone who hadn’t been in my life for over ten years, begging you to come take care of me. Implying that I am some sort of invalid who cannot handle his own affairs.”

“Draco that’s not-“

“That’s not all!” He shouts, the doctor comes within earshot. “It gets better! Because you, actually showed up, on the day that I’m set to put her in the ground. Offering me friendship. You stick around and bring dinner and help around the house and make my son care for you. You don’t get angry when I ask to be left alone, you never miss an opportunity to make me laugh, you tell me that however I’m feeling is alright.

But what if I’m falling in love with you all over again? Astoria has only been gone a little over a year, the woman I made vows to, the mother of my child. My wife who I thought...I was going to spend my life with. I shouldn’t have these feelings for you, it’s too much, too soon.” Draco is on the verge of tears. “So don’t you stand there and tell me it’s alright. Clearly it isn’t.”

“Stop feeling guilty for being human. Stop feeling guilty for being alive. You deserve to be here.” You tell him with fierce determination.

———————————————————————

Over the next two years you and Draco remain friends. Every once in a while one of you will bring up the topic of becoming more. You treat the issue delicately, at first like an open wound, and after a time like a bruise. Occasionally tapping the surface to see if it was still tender, waiting until it was healed and then...

“I loved Astoria very deeply. I will always love her.” Draco says, wringing his hands.

“I know.” You’ve always known.

“But that in no way lessens my feelings for you. I love you, y/n.” Draco finally confesses what he’s been holding onto for far too long.

“Astoria was special. She was nothing short of in love with you and couldn’t stand the idea of you being lonely.” You still think about her letter. “You’re allowed to want things Draco.”

“I want you.” His voice is shaky, “to be a proper family, with Scorpius and if you’re willing, maybe even one or two of our own.”

“I told you, I tried before-“

“We can look into it,” he assures you. “But only if you’d like.”

“Aren’t we a little old?” You laugh.

“Nowadays blokes are having kids well into their forties.” Draco doesn’t see it as a cause for concern.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Ok.”

“Ok?” He blinks, unable to believe his ears.

“We’ll be a family, we already are.” You remind him, this feels like coming home.

“Only now we’ll be more than friends.” Draco says pointedly. “Which means you’ll have to kiss me.”

You feel your heart beat a bit faster in response.

“Which means you’ll have to love me.” He continues.

You nod, staring deeply into his eyes.

“Which means you’ll have to continue putting up with me.”

“Yes, that’s what I want.” You take a step closer, both arms going around his neck. Pulling him in for a kiss, “I love you.” You whisper against his lips, withdrawing hesitantly.

His kisses taste different than you remember, his technique has changed, he’s older. More experienced, but so are you.

———————————————————————

“You’re not actually going to eat that.” Draco is sure you’re fooling around...at first. “Are you?”

“Of course I am it’s good!” You defend the concoction. “Try some.”

“Not bloody likely.” Draco holds his ground, your feet resting in his lap as he massages them. “I adore you, but these cravings have gotten out of hand.”

“You did this to me!” You remind him, gesturing to your baby bump.

“I remember,” Draco winks, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I’m quite proud of my handy work, actually. You’re lovely this way.”

“I’m always lovely.” You kick a swollen foot at him.

“Yes darling,” he chuckles.

“And you’re lucky to have me.”

“Yes darling.” Draco has been very agreeable, given your current state.

“And you’re going to change all the poopy nappies.” You add, just seeing how far he’ll let you take this.

“On one condition.” Draco leans forward, tapping your nose with a fingertip.

“And what’s that?” You cross your arms, awaiting his response.

“Marry me.” Draco says simply.

“Does Scorpius approve?” You asks, his opinion matters most.

“He suggested it.” Draco informs you.

You grin at him, “then yes, I’d love to marry you.”

Draco kisses you sweetly, pulling back to slide the brilliant diamond ring onto your finger.

You can’t help but think of Astoria, saying a silent thanks to the most incredible woman you’ll never get to meet. ‘Thank you for asking me to marry your husband.’

[walkerwords]

“The Savior Sessions” Part 26 of 33 - Negan x GN!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: AMC

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: Sickness is spreading in Alexandria, the reader searches for their lost love, and Negan meets the silent enemy.

Word Count: 4433

Warning: Swearing, Mentions of Blood

Song I Wrote To: “In This Shirt” by The Irrepressibles

Note: I am getting really excited about the final few parts of this! However, we have a bit to go! All official dialog is property of AMC and Skybound. 

-----

Negan really hated Beta and he hadn’t said more than three words since they crossed paths. 

After crossing into the Whisperer’s territory, Beta had fallen upon Negan quickly, disarming and blindfolding him. Negan wasn’t sure if the giant man was going to kill him, so he kept talking in hopes that the Beta would take him to the Alpha to decide his fate.

“Look, man, I have spent the last eight fuckin’ years locked up by your enemy,” Negan said. “I want them dead as much as you do, hell, probably even more. Their old leader fucked me up good once upon a time ago and I haven’t been in a very forgiving mindset since. You take me to your Alpha and I will spill every goddamn secret I know about those fuckers and beyond.”

“Too much noise,” Beta snarled at him.

“Right, you people are all about the whole vow of silence thing,” Negan said in a mock whisper. “I get it, it’s freaky as shit, but I get it.”

“I should just slit your throat and be done with it,” said Beta.

“Been there, done that,” Negan said. “It didn’t stick.” Even behind the blindfold Negan figured Beta was reaching for the knives on his belt. He wouldn’t blame him if he did want to kill him.

Negan had only been back in “I am Negan” mode for all of twelve hours and he had already started to hate himself for it. However, he had a job to do and this was the first step in doing so.

“The Alpha will decide your fate,” Beta said as the Whisperers who had hold of Negan pushed him forward. 

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Negan said. Beta whirled on him, ripping down the blindfold and Negan cringed at the sight of the man in the mask. Beta then shoved the cloth into Negan’s mouth tightly.

“Stop talking,” Beta ordered. Negan glared back at him and it was then that he could see what you must have seen as Beta stood above you with his hand on your throat. The thought of that, the thought of that monster’s hand on the person he loved, kept Negan on his feet and walking forward. He knew that you wanted to kill Beta, but Negan was starting to think that if you didn’t do it soon, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. 

Beta dragged him through the woods and when they came across the main camp, Negan relaxed further, slipped on a cocky smile, and started to plan. 

-------

You and Carol were walking through the woods, both of you scanning for your respective targets.

You knew that she was looking for the horde and you didn’t care. All you wanted was to find Negan and if walking aimlessly around offered you some sort of clue, then you were going to do it. Daryl had tried to accompany her that morning, but you had stepped in and offered to go instead. Daryl was clearly worried about her, but you knew that she didn’t want comfort, she just wanted to work and find Alpha. 

You were more than willing to give that to her. 

That morning as you were getting ready to head out, you had stumbled across one of your emergency packs. You had begun to stash them around the house in case you had to leave suddenly with Negan. All three were accounted for which told you that he hadn’t even bothered to find one before he left. This only proved your theory that something was wrong and that he didn’t just leave.

On top of everything else, Aaron was now in contact with one of Alpha’s people. They called her Gamma and you didn’t like that he was speaking to her. If you had it your way, Gamma would be bleeding at your feet and not playing “frenemy”. 

“I can see your wheels turning,” Carol said as you walked beside her. Your sword was swinging on your hip as her bow was level in her hand. 

“I don’t think they’ve stopped since the world ended,” you said with a sigh.  Carol nodded in agreement. “Can we be honest with each other, Peletier?” you asked. 

“Always,” Carol said, snorting as you used her last name, something you always did when you first met her. 

“I think we both know that we’re out here for different reasons,” you said. 

“You always were the smart one,” Carol said. She then stopped walking and turned to you. “Are you going to tell me to back down?”

“I won’t tell you to stop hunting Alpha as long as you don’t stop me from taking out Beta.”

“He’s in your crosshairs, huh?” she said, continuing to walk. 

“I don’t know why he’s gotten under my skin, Carol. I do know that that motherfucker is going to die by my hand even if I have to bite his damn jugular out.” 

“Okay, Rick,” Carol said with a knowing look. 

“Michonne told you that story too?”

“I think everyone’s heard it,” Carol said. 

“I miss him so much,” you sighed as you climbed over a fallen tree. 

“What do you think he’d do if he was here?” Carol asked. 

“I think he would have shot Alpha the second she showed up at Hilltop.”

“I agree,” Carol said. “I feel like we’re running around with our heads cut off without him in this war.” 

“Maybe we can learn something from the past. We won the last war, I don’t know why this one would be any different.”

“Negan wasn't evil,” Carol said. This stunned you for a moment and Carol caught onto it. “Surprised to hear me defend him?” 

“A bit,” you admitted. 

“You remember my husband?” 

“Ed?” you asked. “How could I forget?” Carol’s dead husband was an abusive asshole that deserved what he got. You remembered how Shane was ready to throttle him and you were willing to help. Lori was the one to calm the both of you down before you murdered him. However, you knew that Shane had always been right about him. 

“My husband didn’t care about me or our daughter. Ed was a horrible human being who preyed on the weak. Alpha is the same way. She doesn’t care who she hurts and she is willing to kill women, children, and anyone to get what she wants. Negan...he had a code. I don’t know if that makes up for all the things he did, but in my book, he’s a better person than Ed or Alpha.”

“I wish more people shared those thoughts,” you said. 

“I can tell that you love him,” she said. “I can see it on your face and in your eyes. He’s...I guess he’s your sanctuary.”

“Is it wrong that I feel guilty for that?”

“For loving him?” she asked and you nodded. “No, (Y/N), it’s not wrong. I also want you to know that it's okay, no matter who it is.” 

“Ezekiel said the same thing,” you said. Carol smiled at that. You didn’t know exactly what had happened between her and the King, but you knew they weren’t speaking as much and you figured they weren’t even together at all.

It wasn’t odd when parents broke up after the death of a child. You had seen it enough when you were a teacher. Carol was strong, but you did worry about Ezekiel. 

“What’s your opinion on him, Carol?” you asked after a moment. 

“On Negan?” she asked and you nodded. “Well, I am never going to forgive him for Glenn or Abraham, but I see that he’s changed. I know that he cared about Carl, and in his own way, respected Rick. I also know that he would never lay his hand on a child or a woman and if it came down to it, he would die for Judith. I think that regardless of what he’s done, at least we know he knows how to be a good man even if he hasn’t always been one.” 

Nodding, you tried to keep your emotions in check, but the tears came quickly. You hunched over, feeling a loss and Carol grabbed you into her arms. 

“I have no doubt he will come home to you,” she whispered. “Do not lose faith, my friend.” 

“I need him,” you choked out. 

“I know, honey,” Carol said. “I know.” 

—————-

You broke off from Carol not that long after her words of comfort. 

Needing to be alone, you began the trek towards Hilltop. You weren’t exactly sure what you were looking for, but perhaps if you saw it you would know. Carol had mentioned that she wasn’t just looking for Alpha, but the horde as well. Daryl had seen it when Alpha had taken him to the cliff edge. The Whisperers had the largest weapon you could ever imagine and if they decided to use it, you weren’t sure many would survive. 

However, you had your own weapon. That is if you could find him. Thinking back to the first day that you had spoken to Negan in his cell, Michonne had said that Alexandria could use him. Not just for a mental punching bag, but because he had run a community unchallenged for years. The Sanctuary, while it was a symbol of hate for Alexandria and the others, it was still proof that some people were born to be in power. Negan was the best shot you had at getting into Beta’s head. The only problem was that Negan may not want to help, not when he had come so far to become a better man.

“And now I’m the one wanting to make him relive that past life,” you muttered as you moved through the trees. 

“Talking to yourself? Never a good sign,” a voice said. You recognized it immediately, turning towards the young woman who stepped around a tree. Enid leaned against the trunk, her knife on her hip and a large button-up around her shoulders. You recognized it as one of Alden’s shirts. 

“I think a little insanity is healthy,” you offered, causing Enid to smile a bit. “How are you?” you asked. 

“I’m getting there,” she admitted. You hadn’t spoken to her much since the fair. Here and there you would check-in, but you had been caught in Negan for months. That guilty feeling returned. “What are you doing out here?” she asked. 

“I could ask you the same thing,” you said. 

“I needed to get out before Alden wrapped me in plastic wrap.”

“He’s become a helicopter boyfriend?” you guessed, continuing to walk. Enid fell into step next to you. 

“That’s a nice way of putting it,” she grumbled. 

“Alden is just worried about you,” you said. “Rosita and Gabriel are doing the same with Siddiq.”

“Is he doing okay?”

“He’s been distracted with his daughter and I think that’s helping. Rosita says that he isn’t sleeping though,” you said. 

“Neither am I,” Enid said. “I can’t get the look of Tara’s face out of my head. Seeing her die and then what they did with her body…” You reached out and took her hand in yours.

“I am so sorry you had to see that,” you said. 

“I’ve seen people die before, but that… that wasn’t human, (Y/N),” Enid said. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep without the nightmares.” 

“I wish I could do something to help you,” you said. 

“You are, you’re talking to me and you’re still looking for the Whisperers,” she said. “That’s why you’re out here, right?” You paused, trying not to fully lie. 

“Right,” you said, but Enid could see right through it. 

“Or are you looking for Negan?”

“Can’t I do both?” you asked. Enid shrugged. Negan was a rough subject with Enid. He had killed Glenn who had become like a father to Enid in some ways. He had taken care of her when she didn’t think anyone wanted her around. When he was taken away from her, Enid had taken over as caretaker for Maggie and you knew that Negan wasn’t winning any popularity contests with the young woman. 

“How do you know he’s actually changed?” Enid asked, surprising you. 

“Everyone keeps asking me that,” you said with a sigh. “I don’t think it’s something I can just explain. It’s something you have to see.” 

“Why do you think he’s changed?” Enid asked. 

“Because he had to and because he wanted to,” you said without a second of hesitation. “Negan wasn’t always who we met all those years ago.”

“I wonder what changed.”

“His wife died and the world ended,” you said. “Some people are built for this kind of world, others have to adapt and change with it in order to survive.” 

“So, you’re saying that the end of the world turned him into a killer?” 

“It’s turned us all into killers, Enid,” you reminded her. Enid was quiet for a moment before she continued. 

“Alden once told me a story about him,” she began. “Alden wasn’t always with Negan, he usually just stayed at the outposts, but one day Negan went to visit. They all went out in search of people or supplies and they found a small family. It was a husband, his wife, and their two teenagers. Twins, I think. Alden thought that Negan was going to recruit the man to be a Savior and take care of the teens and the wife.”

“Did he?” you asked. Enid shook her head. 

“Alden said that Negan...switched when he noticed something. It wasn’t until he got closer that he saw what Negan did. The wife was covered in bruises, the kids too. These weren’t the normal ones you would get from running from Walkers either.”

“He was beating them,” you concluded. 

“Negan gave the man one chance to admit what he had done. I guess the husband drew a gun on his family, threatening to kill them. Negan ordered Alden and some other Saviors to grab the kids and keep them safe as he dealt with the parents. The wife began to beg Negan for help and that’s when Negan tackled the husband, knocking him out cold.” 

“Did he kill him?” 

“He didn’t have to,” Enid said. “The son of a bitch had gotten bit and was going to turn and then turn his family. Some sort of sick ‘together forever’ type thing. Negan got the family into the Sanctuary and kept them safe. The mom died about a year later from a respiratory infection.”

“And the twins?”

“Alden doesn’t know. They were around fifteen or so. Maybe they left, maybe Negan got them set up somewhere else, I don’t know. I just know their names: Adam and Olivia. I like to think they made it and they’re out there somewhere.”

“Why did Alden tell you this?”

“I think he was trying to convince me that not everything the Saviors did was bad,” she said. “I think he’s still worried that I see him as an enemy, but I never did. At least not since he helped us win the war.” 

“I wish I could say the same about my own Savior,” you sighed. 

“Can’t you?” she asked. 

“Enid, we both know that Negan and Alden are two very different people with very different situations,” you said. 

“True, but that doesn’t mean Negan hasn’t done his fair share of good. Daryl told me about Judith, all the times he’s saved her. Maybe he’s not lost after all.”

“You sound like Carl,” you complimented. Enid gave you a small smile at that. 

“I know that he would be completely on board with you and Negan,” she said. “I also know that he would be by your side right now looking for him.” 

“Negan wouldn’t have left if Carl was still here,” you said. 

“Why are you so sure that he left?” 

“Are you suggesting somebody kidnapped my boyfriend?” you asked, raising your brows. 

“Stranger things have happened,” she offered. 

“Your wisdom is very… Greene,” you said. 

“Well, Maggie did help me see this world differently. I think we could all use a little Rhee/Greene wisdom right now.”

“If you find some,” you said. “Pass it along alright?”

“You got it,” Enid said. Bumping her shoulder with your own, you took a deep breath. 

“I can’t imagine what she would think about me right now, En,” you said. “I can’t imagine the betrayal she would feel.” 

“(Y/N), listen to me,” Enid said. “We spend too much time thinking about what others would think instead of just being in the moment with the people around us. I lost my best friends to Alpha and I lost a piece of myself, but I still have Alden. I still have that person who loves me unconditionally. I think that is more important right now.” 

“I can’t stop the guilt,” you whispered. 

“(Y/N), you’ve lost too much to feel guilty for loving someone,” she said. Enid then continued on, letting you absorb her words. The sheer fact that Enid was saying these things to you made you even more confused. It began to make you wonder if your friends were actually coming around to the idea of Negan being a part of the community or if they were just worried for your sanity. 

If you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t know which was worse. 

--------

When you returned to Alexandria, you found that Siddiq and Dante were being overwhelmed. 

“What’s going on?” you asked as you walked into Rosita’s house. 

“I don’t know,” Siddiq said, “it looks like some kind of bug is going around.”

“Are you feelin’ okay, Doc?” you asked, reaching to feel his forehead, but he swatted your hand away. 

“I’m fine, but Ro is on bed rest for the time being. I’ve been trying to get her to sleep, but Coco is keepin’ her up as usual.”

“I will talk to her,” you said. “Go check on the rest of your patients before Dante passes out from exhaustion.” 

“Will do,” he said. 

“Hey, where’s Daryl? I didn’t see him when I came in,” you said. 

“I think he went out after Carol,” Siddiq said. With a roll of your eyes, you nodded. Of course, he did. 

As Siddiq went to go check on the others, you headed into Rosita’s room. “Alright, Ma’am, gimme the kid, I need baby time,” you said, reaching for the little girl. Rosita handed her to you without a question, sinking back into her pillows. 

She did look pale and tired and you knew that she knew she should be resting. However, she was trying to be supermom. You respected that, but you also needed your friend to sleep. Sitting down in the armchair by the bed, you held Coco close to your chest, gently rubbing her back. 

“Find him?” Rosita asked. 

“Not yet,” you whispered, resting your eyes. “I did run into Enid, though.”

“Is she doing any better than Siddiq?” she asked. 

“Not really,” you said. “She’s having nightmares.”

“So is he,” Rosita sighed. “I’m worried about him.”

“I know, I am too,” you said. Siddiq was always the voice of reason. He reminded you a lot of Herschel. It was no wonder that Carl saw the kindness in him as soon as he met him. 

“(Y/N), about Negan,” Rosita began, but you shook your head. 

“I can’t right now,” you said. “People have been giving their opinion on him since we got home from the fair and even more so now that he’s gone. I just need to sit here and hold your girl so you can get better. Please.”

“Okay,” Rosita whispered, curling into her side so she always had eyes on Coco.

“Rest, mama,” you said. “You need it and I got her.”

“Thanks,” Rosita whispered as her eyes fell closed.

“Any time, Ro,” you said as he pressed a kiss to Coco’s forehead and settled into the chair, propping your feet up on the bed. It didn’t take long for you to relax and for the little Espinosa to fall asleep. As you set there, you focused on the small breaths of the baby and wished for a miracle. 

---------

From gravedigger to pig hunter, Negan was not having a good day. 

He was especially missing you and following the skins around all day was starting to give him a headache. The only thing that was keeping him going was a trinket that was tucked into his pocket. It was something he had taken from your house the last time he had been there. It was a small marble that you kept on the mantle of your fireplace. You had told him that you had found it the first time you visited the Kingdom. It was black and white which reminded him of you and him. 

He wondered if you had even noticed it was missing. Though, he figured that you were beyond pissed right now and a missing marble wouldn’t exactly mean much. Rubbing his thumb over the smooth token, he continued to follow the asshole in front of him. 

He and Beta were butting heads at every chance they got. He knew that the bastard didn’t like him, but he didn’t really give a shit. He wasn’t there to make friends with him. He just wanted the damn Alpha. However, that was proving to be a bit of a problem. 

Beta was testing him and he hated every second of it. Beta, however, seemed to be enjoying himself as he tortured, tested, and talked down to Negan. The latter had been around assholes his entire life and while Beta was a dick, when it came to being scary, he didn’t even touch Rick Grimes. Although, at least Rick would actually talk to him. 

“I just don’t see the point in all of this,” Negan said as Beta led him through the dark woods. Beta just continued to ignore him. Negan had been playing Whisperer custodian all day and he was tired of it. Now, Beta had him wandering through the dark for some reason and Negan was already annoyed. 

“Clearly,” Negan continued, “we are not jivin'. And, you know, to be honest with you, I totally understand the position you're in. You gotta be, like, the tough guy and keep everybody in line. I mean, hell, you know, I had guys just like you to keep my shit tight. Alright, maybe not just like you.” 

Beta’s jaw clenched, but Negan went on. “Uh, hell, if I had some monster your size, things would've turned out different. For one, I wouldn’t be lacking as much Vitamin D.” Beta didn’t get the joke. “Look, whether you like me or not, I will be joinin' this team, so maybe we should find a way to get along, you know, and stop pissin' on each other's boots.”

“You will never be one of us,” Beta sneered, getting into Negan’s face. “You’re too loud, too weak, too full of ego.”

“Some people like my damn ego,” Negan offered. 

“You are a waste, and Alpha will see it.”

“So, cards on the table, then? Cool. I dig that. See, I'm not here for you. I am here for Alpha. So, you go ahead, and you throw your little tests at me and you scowl and throw me on the ground like a five-and-dime Frankenstein. I don't give a shit,” Negan shot back. “See, big man, I ain't goin' anywhere.” Beta stopped walking and properly faced his antagonizer.

“Finally, something we can both agree on. You won't be going anywhere,” Beta said as the growls of Walkers echoed around them. The Dead stumbled towards them and Negan, who was weaponless, only got more pissed.

“Wait a minute. Did you just make a Goddamn joke? I would be impressed if I wasn't so pissed off right now,” he said. Beta then shoved him back towards the Walkers as he faded into the shadows, leaving Negan to the Dead. With a grunt, Negan turned to face his rotting enemies. “Oh, you have got to be shittin' me.”

------

Negan was covered in blood and the smell of rotting flesh, but he was alive. 

And he was pissed. 

Negan had fought for years. He knew how to kill in all sorts of ways and he knew how to kill Walkers. However, being thrown into that small herd with nothing but his bare fists had nearly killed him. The only thing that kept him going was you. 

He thought back to the training sessions, you, Lydia, and he had done in the living room of your home. The hand-to-hand and weapons training was important, but then there was what Lydia had brought to the table. The number one thing that her mother had taught her was how to improvise in a dire situation. Anything could be a weapon and only you were the one capable of getting yourself away from death. 

Negan had ducked and pushed his way through the Walkers, dodging their teeth and hands the best he could. When he spotted the fallen branch on the ground, he had laughed and picked it up. It wasn’t Lucille, but it would do. As he faced down the Walkers in front of him, he grinned. 

“Lydia, give me strength,” he whispered as he swung. 

Now, as every Walker was in pieces and he was drenched in blood, he strutted back into camp. Just as Beta was explaining to Alpha that Negan was dead, he made his appearance. 

“I'm ready for my Goddamn skin suit!” he announced as he walked between Whisperers, the branch on his shoulder. “You best bring that extra-long tape measure on account of my humongous balls.” He spotted Alpha immediately. She was looking at him with curiosity and as much as he hated to admit it, Lydia had had that same look when she first met him. 

Approaching the Alpha, he dropped the makeshift weapon and dropped to his knee in front of her. Alpha looked at him as if he was prey, but he didn’t back down. 

“Hi, I'm Negan,” he said with a cocky grin. “We haven't formally met, but I sure as hell know who you are. And whether my reputation precedes me or not, I'm all in.” Alpha reached out and pulled a piece of flesh off his shoulder. “Whatever you want, whatever I got, it's yours.”

Alpha leaned forward then and placed a finger on her lips. “Shh,” she said and Negan just grinned back, knowing he had cast the line, all she had to do was bite.

TAGS: @lucillethings​ @cameronsails​ @stark-dreams​ @amaroho​ @thanossexual​ @yes-sir-hotchner​ @boom-bunny​ @delusionalteenagewhispers​ @scootankle​ @ritajammer21​ @writteriguess​ @tea-atfive​ @jennydehavilland​ @waspyyy​ @yespleasejayhalstead​ @hoemadegrace​ @writingdeadangel​ @huffledor-able541​ @pulplorrd​ @felicisimor​ 

[achillestiel]

the parent trap only works if you’re identical | part five (if this get’s any longer I’m putting it on ao3)

Tag List: @littlerachelbee @imthedoctorlove @deancas-handprint @castiel-loves-dean @wanderermatthews @thelahatiel @priscillahc @mridzyp @multi-fandom-dark-lord @thefantasyfiend @harmonyhelms @imlivingliferightnow ​ @kara-merlin @still-clowning-in-this-house @never-forever-more @continuezmesfilserrants @2musiclover2 @castiels-bitch @stjimmie @cmths5

“Well thank you for dinner but we should probably be heading out.” Dean said towards the end of one of, if not the most, awkward dinner of his life.

“Dad what about dessert?”

“Claire, we need to get going. It’s a long drive back to Kansas.” Dean said, sighing internally because he knew getting Claire out the damn house was going to be hard. 

“Dean, don't be ridiculous. You’ve been driving for most of the day.” Cas said. “We have the spare bedroom-”

“That’s my room!” Gabriel interrupted. 

“It’s not your room Gabriel. It’s the guest room. You have your own house with your own bedroom.” Cas said, giving Gabriel the bitchiest look Dean had ever seen. That was saying a lot seeing as he’d grown up with Sam. “Dean, why don’t you and Claire stay here for the night? Claire can sleep in Jack’s room and you can sleep in the guest room.” Cas suggested. Claire and Jack grinned at each other and Dean just knew they'd stay up half the night whispering to each other. Or plotting. Most likely plotting.  

No. Nope, Absolutely not going to happen in a million goddamn years. 

“Cas, we can just grab a motel if I get tired.” 

“Dad, I’m not staying in a motel if we can stay here.” Claire said stubbornly. “Plus Jack and I were already planning on making waffles in the morning!” Oh, Jesus Christ. These kids were going to be the death of Dean. And damn if both Claire and Jack weren’t giving him the puppy dog eyes. 

 “Fine. Fine. But we’re heading out in the morning Claire, I mean it.”

“After waffles.” Claire and Jack said in unison. When the hell did those two learn how to do that?

“Excellent, now that’s all sorted I’m going to head home as Winchester’s stolen my room. All the wine is gone anyways.” Gabriel asked, slapping his hand on his thighs as he got out of his seat

“See you in the morning Uncle Gabriel.” Claire said with a grin as Gabriel patted her on the head, ruffled Jack’s hair and gave both Dean and Cas pointed looks.  

“Good night Gabriel.” Cas said, giving his brother a stern look Dean didn’t understand. 

“Same to you bro. Good to see you Winchester, try not to keep this madam a stranger.” Gabriel said, nodding towards Claire.

“I’ll try.” Dean said, mainly to placate Gabriel. Gabriel gave them all a salute before heading out. “Nice to see Gabriel hasn’t changed at all.” Dean said once Gabriel had left. 

“No, he’s still the same annoying ass he’s always been.” Cas said. 

“I like him! He’s invited us to Thanksgiving this year.” Claire said. Yeah that’s not happening. Dean thought. 

“I’m going to teach Claire my secret yam recipe.” Jack said cheerfully. 

“Ah yes, Jack Novak’s secret yam recipe. Involving two whole bags of miniature marshmallows and a ruined casserole dish.” Cas said, shaking his head but giving Jack a fond look. 

“Sounds about as successful as when Claire tried to make apple pie on for Father’s Day.”

“What did you set on fire that time?” Jack asked Claire. Claire could stick her tongue out all she wanted but there were still scorch marks in their kitchen. 

“Yes well, Jack why don’t you and Claire clear up while Dean and I have a quick chat. After that, you can show Claire where she’s sleeping for the night. You two can watch a movie in your room.”

“Cool, how’d you feel about The Avengers?”

“Black Widow is a badass.” Claire said. “Rock, paper, scissors for who washes and who dries?” she then asked. 

“Oh Jesus.” Dean muttered as Cas motioned for him to follow him. Instead of going into the warm looking living room, Cas took Dean upstairs and into a spacious guest room. The walls were painted a deep, honey colour that matched the wooden furniture perfectly. Unlike Dean’s guest room, which was really a junk room, it was immaculately clean. Dean was about to make a quip about the cleanliness of the room before he stopped. In the corner of the room was the very turntable he had brought Cas for the first Christmas they had been together. Without saying a word, Dean walked over and glanced at the records neatly stored in their storage box. Bob Dylan, Fleetwood Mac and even the rare Otis Reading record that Dean had found at a vinyl fair. Cas had kept all of them. For a fleeting moment, Dean wondered if the note he’d hidden in the Bob Dylan record was still there. A hastily scribbled note saying I wasn't born to lose you. Oh, the irony. 

-

Cas watched with cautious eyes as Dean ran a hand over the box of records. Each one Dean had carefully picked out for Cas in another life. He had battled over getting rid of them for years. Gabriel had always said it was strange to keep hold of them but Cas could have never parted with them. When Jack was a toddler Cas had played all of them for him, smiling to himself at how Knocking On Heaven’s Door would always send Jack to sleep. 

“I think we need to have a talk.” Cas said, trying to ease the tension that had enveloped the room. 

“Um yeah.” Dean said with a cough as he straightened up, looking away from the records. “Cause apparently I’m cancelling my Thanksgiving plans with Sam to spend the day with my ex-brother-in-law, eating my body weight in mini marshmallows.” Dean said. “Cas...what are we going to do about this?”

“And by this you mean…”

“The kids. There’s no way Claire’s going to just go back to how it was before. Plus, Jack is an awesome kid. There’s no way I want to go back to how it was before. I mean, maybe Jack could stay with me during the summer?”

“And what? I get Claire during Easter? Christmas?” Cas asked, laughing at the absurdity of the situation. “We came up with this arrangement so the kids could live a normal life. What’s going to happen next, I have them for one year and you have them for the other? That won’t work.”

“No shit Cas but...did you see those two at dinner? They’ve only known each other for a few weeks but it’s clear they adore each other. Claire’s gonna be an even bigger pain in my ass after this. I don’t want to break my...our daughter’s heart when we separate them again and I’m sure you dont want that for Jack.”

“Of course I don’t! What do you honestly suggest then because not only did we come to this agreement to have the kids lead normal lives but it was also so we didn’t have to see each other.” Cas said because even though neither of them would say it, they both knew that seeing each other again would end in a huge fight and a lot of sex. 

"Then why did you ask me to stay?" Dean asked. Good question Dean, very good question. 

"Because it's late and you can't drive throughout the night when you've been driving all day." Cas said. Liar a small voice inside Cas said. As much as he annoys you, you still love him. 

"Oh." Dean said in a small voice. 

"Why? What do you expect me to say?"

"Nothing...forget it." Dean said. “You know, now that we’re here and I’ll probably never be here again. About that day you packed, why'd you do it? Why did you just hop on a train and leave?”

“Dean.” Cas groaned. “We were so young. We both had tempers, we said stupid things so I packed. Got on the train and you didn't come after me.”

“I wanted to but I didn’t think you’d want me to follow.” Dean said in a small voice. “Dammit Cas, you just had to send Jack to the exact same camp as Claire didn’t you? ”

“We haven’t spoken in twelve years, how on earth was I supposed to know where you were sending Claire for the summer? It might shock you to hear this but I can’t read your damn mind Dean. I didn’t send Jack there because a little voice in my head said ‘Oh Dean is sending Claire to this camp! Send Jack so he can meet the twin sister he never knew he had.’” Cas said.  "You are so infuriating, you know that right?”

"I'm infuriating?” Dean asked, looking highly offended. “What about the time you recorded over my Star Trek episode with a documentary on the life of Tomas Jefferson?"

"You have the whole series on DVD! Why did you need to record it off the SyFy channel?"

"You know why! It was the Trouble With Tribbles episode and that was on the DVD that Sam scratched when I let him borrow it!" Dean shot back. 

"Well, you set fire to the patio furniture! Don't even say you didn't because Eileen told me it was you and Sam the next morning." Cas said.

"You scratched the Impala!"

"That wasn't me, it was Gabriel. I lied and said it was me because he was already on his last warning from when he spilt red wine on the couch." 

"Yeah well, you did break my Captain Kirk mug." 

"No Dean, the asinine way you stacked kitchen items broke your Captain Kirk mug." 

"Yeah well, you...you…" Dean said and something inside Cas just broke. This man, this irritating and stubborn man had been the love of his life, his husband and the man he wanted to spend this rest of his life with. Twelve years hadn’t changed a damn thing. 

"Oh for god sake Dean, shut up." Cas said and even though he knew this was the worst plan in the world, even worse than his non-identical twins switching places, Cas pulled Dean in close, their lips crashing against one another. Oh god, it was like going home after a long trip. Cas knew this, knew it better than breathing. Cas still loved Dean more than anyone else in the history of the universe. 

"Cas this is the dumbest-" Dean tried to say between kisses. Frantic kisses that set Cas’ skin ablaze.

"Just shut up and take off your pants." Cas said before his brain could come up with a million reasons why this was a stupid idea. 

“What?”

“Dean, shut up and take off your pants.” Cas said before crashing their lips together again in a kiss that was more like a battle for dominance than anything else. 

“I can’t take off my pants if you keep kissing me.” Dean said as he pulled away and Cas just groaned because this man drove him so insane but all Cas wanted to do was kiss every inch of his body. "This is the worst idea ever."

"Worse than when you let Jo pierce your lip?" Cas asked. He could still the slight scar on Dean’s bottom lip. 

"That was not as bad as the time you wanted to make your own honey." 

"One bee flew in the house Dean, one."

"Bees don't belong in a house Cas, they belong in a beehive."

"Are you really trying to start an argument when we're about to have sex?" Cas asked. Thankfully Dean shook his head. "Good, now take off your clothes and get on the bed."

-

With The Avengers to mask the sound, Claire and Jack sat in Jack’s room as they called their Uncle Sam. After a few rings, he accepted the video call. Grinning at the pair of them with a warm smile.

"Hey kids...man it's weird seeing you two together. How's it going?" Sam asked. 

"Awesome. We made chilli and got them to sit in the same room." Claire said. 

Well, that's something Eileen signed. So what's the plan? 

Plan?

Yeah, the plan. You two are definitely up to something because Claire's involved. 

Why do you always think I'm up to something? Claire asked. 

Intuition

"Past experience." Sam intoned. "Where’re your dads now?”

“Guest room we think, we heard shouting in there about ten minutes ago.”Jack said. “Something about tribbles.”

“Is he still on about that?” Sam groaned. Just out of view on the screen, Eileen signed something to Sam. He groaned and signed back. 

“Hey! Winchester family rule, no covert signing.” Claire said. Sam looked back at her with a classic Uncle Sam Bitchy Face. “What did you say?”

“Ugh.” Sam said. “Fine, your aunt said that if they’re fighting there’s good chance they’ll end up having sex.”

“Ew! Gross!” Jack and Claire said at the same time. “Those are our dads.” Claire said, wrinkling her nose. 

“Yeah? And how do you think you two were made?”

“With a turkey baster and a very patient surrogate.” Claire shot back. “Wait...if they do...you know...do gross stuff, does that mean they’ll get back together?”

Going from past experience, no. They’ll just fight and make noises that, according to your uncle, only dogs can hear.

“That’s really gross Aunt Eileen.” Jack said. “As far as a plan goes, we don’t really have one. Come on, we’re twelve. We need help and Uncle Gabriel has gone home.”

“Good, his plan would have been awful.” Sam said. “Look kids, I know damn well that Dean still loves Cas and judging from what you’ve told us, Cas probably still loves Dean. Just let them fight it out, turn whatever movie you’re watching way up and see how things are in the morning. I know these two idiots pretty well, you can’t force them into anything.”

“We can’t play the long game here Uncle Sam. Dad’s making us leave in the morning.”

“After waffles.”

“Yeah, after waffles I’ll be shoved in the car and grounded until graduate.” Claire said. The four of them sat in silence for a moment before Eileen’s face lit up. 

Ok I have a plan but if it backfires then you do not get it from me. Claire, do you remember how to disable the battery on the Impala? 

“Yeah, I remember...oh...no car means not having to leave.” Claire said with a grin. “Aunt Eileen, you are a genius and never let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“I want no part in this part of the plan.” Sam said hastily. 

“Too late Uncle Sam, welcome to Team Parent Trap.” Jack said happily.     

[out-of-jams]

One Chance || myg

(Amazing, incredibly badass banner made by @kimtaehyunq​ )

↠ One Chance ↞ Min Yoongi was a lot of things.

A musical genius, a guy with a bad reputation, your assigned partner for your final project.

And the last thing you ever would have expected.

Word Count: 7.4k

Warnings/Genre: College!au. Music producer!Yoongi x Singer!Reader. Fluff. Explicit language. Some angst. Mentions of alcohol. s2l. Oneshot.

A/n: Hey all you cool cats and kittens. Hope you’re all staying safe out there! I wasn’t intending to write this, but I had no other choice.

All of my works are purely fiction. Everything I write is my intellectual property and therefore belongs to me. ©out-of-jams. Do not copy or repost without permission.

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Min Yoongi.

The name stared up at you in size twelve font, black letters printed onto the white sheeted paper. Every other word on the page blurred around the edges as you tried to place a face to the name. You weren’t good with names, never had been. So with a sigh, you leaned to the side and mumbled to the girl sitting next to you in class.

“Hey, who’s Min Yoongi?”

She--Mira? Mina? something like that--glanced up from her portfolio opened up on the desk and shot you a disbelieving look. You couldn’t blame her, not really. It was nearing the end of the semester and your vocal class had worked with the music production class multiple times throughout the course of the year. Neither class was very big, so you probably should have known the names of all twenty students. Total. Ten in each class.

But hey, in your defense you’d had a lot on your plate, seeing as how you were about to graduate from university and all. Which was a pretty big deal, so memorizing the names of people you only saw a few times ever-so-often wasn’t high up on your list of priorities.

But Min Yoongi.

You recognized him the moment you saw the soft outline of his profile through the glass window of the studio door a day later. He had his attention trained on whatever was on his laptop screen, pale hand sliding across the mousepad. His dark brows were pinched in concentration and you could see the tip of his tongue digging into the side of his cheek.

Even though the overly-bright lights in the room were on, the guy still somehow managed to blend in with the slate grey walls. Hell, his icy blond hair was the only color to stand out amongst all the black clothing. The oversized hoodie and black joggers he wore looked comfortable, and had you glancing down at your own outfit self-consciously. Had the sweater, skirt and high heeled boots combo been too much? Should you have dressed down a little?

Whatever. It was too late now.

Watching him through the door made you feel like some kind of stalking creep, but you couldn’t help it.

You’d seen him around campus a few times and recognized him from whenever your classes joined together and was a little disappointed at yourself for not recognizing his name. Even though you'd never spoken a word to him before, you were a little apprehensive about being partnered together. Min Yoongi had a reputation, and not a very good one. Sure, he was talented at what he did, producing music, to the point where a lot of people in the music department called him a genius. But he was known for being standoffish. Rude. And could cut someone down with a few words from his naturally pouty lips.

You didn’t like to judge a book by its cover, or by the rumors that circulated about them. However, that did nothing for the intimidating aura that bled from the man like cologne the second you stepped foot into the room.

He didn’t even pause in whatever he was doing to spare you a glance. Just announced in a dry, rumbling voice, “You’re late.”

“Uh.” You hesitated halfway into the room, the door swinging shut behind you automatically. Two seconds in and he already hated you. Great. “Sorry. I got lost.”

That made him look up and watch as you pulled the only other rolling chair back from the desk and plopped down. God, his eyes were just as daunting as the rest of him: onyx in color and cat-like in shape, they were bottomless as he blinked at you lazily. And he slowly raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

“You got lost.” Yoongi repeated slowly. So sarcastically that you didn’t even hear a question mark at the end of it. “Aren’t you about to graduate? How are you still getting lost on campus?”

Your mouth opened and closed, embarrassed heat blossoming across your cheeks. You were blushing hard and you knew it, but that sure as hell didn’t mean that you had to acknowledge it. So you just sniffed and dug through your backpack for an excuse to break eye contact. “I haven’t been in here before.”

It was true. In a way. The hall of studios that you were in now were for the senior music production students. There was a completely different area for each year, but each student had their own assigned as theirs for the semester. So you weren’t lying when you said you hadn’t been to his exact studio before.

Which he seemed to catch on to, if the way Yoongi’s second eyebrow raised to join the first told you anything. But he let it go and turned back to shut his laptop, which you could now see was opened to a music production app. You weren’t very schooled on how to operate it, but even you could tell that he seemed to be very far into whatever it was he was making.

Though you didn’t get a good enough look at it before he closed it.

“Even though we have a month to do this, we should figure out what kind of song we’re making now instead of later.” Yoongi stated in that gruff voice of his and clicked a few things on his laptop. “Since you’re the one singing, you’ll be setting the tone--”

“Wait.” You interrupted.

Yoongi stopped whatever it was he was about to say to give you a blank look, the corners of his lips turned down. “What?”

Clearing your throat, you continued on despite the way his expression tried to cow you into shutting up. “How’re we splitting this up?”

A valid question. Not every person who created music worked in the same way. Some liked to do things a completely different way than somebody else might’ve. Last time you’d worked with one of the students from the music production class, the two of you had butted heads the whole way. He hadn’t wanted to hear your input at all, and you weren’t about to be shoved off to the side like some kind of un-opinionated mouthpiece again.

Yoongi made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like a hum. “I normally make the track and leave the lyrics up to the singer unless they need help.”

He looked at you from out of the corner of his eye as he clicked a few buttons on the keyboard in front of him to bring the giant monitor above the control panel to life. “Can you write?”

“Yes.” The word left your mouth before you could even think about it.

“Good. You’ll take care of that then.” Yoongi slid a blank yellow notepad into the empty space on the control panel between you. “Though we’ll need to do the melody before that.”

The next time the two of you met was almost a week later. It’d been sometime late in the afternoon when you both finally had time in your schedules. Because for some stupid reason, even though both of your classes were combined to work on the project, it had to be done outside of class.

Ugh.

As if you didn’t already have enough things to stress over. Like say, securing a job for after graduation.

During the first meeting between the two of you, you’d already decided on what kind of song you wanted to make. Something upbeat, but not over the top, though not boring either. You weren’t a huge fan of sounding like every other music artist out there and apparently Yoongi had felt the same. So it’d been easy to come up with.

He’d texted over a few ideas for the concept and you’d been pleasantly surprised at how serious he took it. At how complex and layered the ideas he’d come up with were. They were a lot better than anything you could have ever dreamed up and you were beyond astonished.

Especially when he met you outside of his studio door, blond hair was secured back off his forehead by a white headband,  and greeted you with, “I finished the track.”

“Already?” Shock was clear in your voice and you watched open mouthed as he unlocked the door and held it open for you to follow him inside. The lights flickered on overhead, but you were too busy staring at his back to notice. “That was quick, holy shit.”

Yoongi shrugged off your awe and wiggled the mouse to bring his computer to life. “It was no big deal. And now we can work on the melody.”

Still gaping at the blond, you shuffled forward to drop your bag next to your chair. “Okay. Um. Where should we start?”

Pulling out his chair, he sat down and lazily dragged the mouse over to open up his production software. “Listen to it first and let me know if you want to make any changes.”

“Yeah, okay.” You plopped down into your own chair and watched as he pressed play.

The music that poured from the expensive speakers started off slowly until it tapered off into what you assumed would be the first chorus. And you found yourself unconsciously tapping your fingers against your thigh when the bridge finally hit, you had to bite your lip to contain an excited smile. The moment it ended, you twisted in your chair to see that he was already looking at you. Though he kept his face blank, you could literally see question lingering behind those cat-like eyes of his.

“Mm.” You hummed, nodding your head and trying your damnedest to keep the grin from your face.

When you failed to say anything more, Yoongi raised his eyebrows. “Mm?”

“Mm.” You finally let the smile touch your lips. “I really liked it. It’s good.”

“Yeah?” He reached out to stop the track from replaying on a loop. “Any changes?”

“Nah. I like it just the way it is.”

“Alright.” Was what he responded with, but you could tell that he was pleased beneath that hard exterior of his. “The melody then.”

“The melody.” You agreed.

Min Yoongi was extremely anal when it came to anything he attached his name to.

That was probably why he had so many music companies vying for his attention. Not only did he produce nothing short of perfect tracks, but he’d even made some cash on the side selling some of them. Or so you’d heard through the grapevine.

Which was exactly why you were left staring at the blank notebook settled across your crossed legs. The pen in your hand had yet to put ink to the blank pages hours after you’d gotten home. All because some guy intimidated the hell out of you.

Most of the songs you wrote were fine. But that was the problem.  

Min Yoongi didn’t do fine. And you had no doubt in your mind that he’d tear your work to absolute shreds should you present him something lackluster. Maybe you shouldn’t have been so quick to jump the gun and tell him you’d be fine writing by yourself.

It was way too late now.

“How long are you going to stare like that?”

Snapping out of your self-degrading thoughts, you turned to look over your shoulder. Jennie, your ever present roommate, was standing behind the couch shoving spoonfuls of cereal into her mouth. By the lack of makeup on her face and the messy bun her long black hair was thrown up into, she was more than likely about to go to bed.

“Stare like what?” You asked with a poorly concealed pout, pulling out your earbuds that’d been playing the track on a constant loop.

“Like you’re constipated or something.” Jennie waved her spoon at you before dipping it back into the bowl to scoop up more soggy cereal. “Project really giving you that much trouble?”

She didn’t necessarily know exactly what was going on with you, not exactly. Sure, she knew that you were partners with Yoongi and had been spending a lot of time with the man for the project. But she didn’t know just how much pressure you were under. Self-inflicted or not.

“These lyrics are kicking my ass.” Groaning, you leaned to the side until you were sprawled out on the couch.

“Why?” Jennie rested her arms against the back of it, bowl of milk and cereal hovering over you dangerously. “They don’t normally.”

She had a point. It wasn’t usually so difficult to write a damn song, but you also didn’t usually have a perfectionist genius as a partner. Instead of saying that though, you just threw your arms over your face. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just not cut out for this, ‘ya know? I should drop out while I still can.”

“O-kay.” You could hear her exasperated eye roll. “Don’t stress so much about it. You know, whenever you’re done being overdramatic.”

Jennie successfully dodged the couch pillow you chucked after fleeing footsteps. A buzz from your phone had you reaching for it blindly and the text on the screen had you burying your face into the cushions.

Min Yoongi: you free tomorrow?

Y/n: yeah. Same time?

His response came in not even five seconds later.

Min Yoongi: works for me

“So, see you tomorrow?” The question left your lips as you packed your stuff back into your bag. You still hadn’t been able to come up with any lyrics. At least none good enough to show your partner. So while you’d both been in the studio, you’d busied yourself trying to write and Yoongi had been doing whatever it was that he did.

He’d just powered down the computer he’d been working on and shook his head without looking at you. “I can’t tomorrow. I have plans.”

“Oh, really?” That came as a surprise. The fact that there was something or someone out there that could force the Min Yoongi to ditch working on a song. “What kind of plans?”

Ever since you’d showed up with food two weeks ago, he’d been a little more amicable towards you. Not as closed off. Which, of course, only led to you bringing some with you every day. Maybe food being the way to a man’s heart really applied to every man. Nonetheless, with the way the two of you would banter back and forth without heat made you hope that it wasn’t just you who considered him a friend.

Yoongi paused, only for a moment, but he paused all the same in throwing his bag over his shoulder before he answered. “I...have a show.”

“A show?” Your eyebrows raised in surprise as you stood up. That was the last thing you would have expected to leave his mouth. “What kind of show?”

“It’s not the type of show you’d want to watch.” He headed for the door and you scrambled to follow after him.

Leaning against the wall while he locked up the door, you folded your arms across your chest. “Why? You a stripper or something?”

Yoongi didn’t even spare you a look, just pocketed his keys and started down the hallway, apparently assuming that you’d follow. “You saying I wouldn’t be a good stripper?”

He’d assumed correctly. Your legs raced to catch up. “I never said that. You insinuated that all by yourself.”

An amused scoff passed his lips, but that was all you got in response. You weren’t about to letter the matter drop though. “So, are you?”

“Am I what?”

“A stripper.”

A pause. And then Yoongi met your sparkling gaze and shook his head with a huffing laugh. “No, I’m not a stripper.”

“Well, if your show isn’t anything rated NC-18, then can I go?”

“Why would you want to go?”

His question had you sending him a hesitant look. “Because we’re friends, aren't we?”

A heavy sigh escaped him. “If I say no, will you stop asking?”

You pretended to think for a minute before clicking your tongue. “Nope.”

He looked over at you, feline eyes squinting in contemplation. As much as Min Yoongi liked to act like he came across as aloof, he was a lot easier to read than he probably thought. And he must have found whatever it was he was looking for, because his thoughtful pout turned into a careless shrug.

“Whatever. Fine.”

“Sweet.” You grinned up at him and finally let him go on his merry way.

It was difficult to find a parking spot. You’d had to loop around the block at least ten times before you were finally able to squeeze your car into a space between two giant SUVs. The spot wasn’t exactly close to where you were supposed to meet Yoongi, but it was the best you could do.

When he’d texted you the address, you’d be lying if you said that you weren’t a little apprehensive at first. It was located on the outskirts of downtown where you’d never been before. Because the further out you went from the center of the city, the more dangerous it got.

Y/n: I’m here.

You sent the text off to Yoongi and cut the car engine. Throwing a glance at the clock on the dash, you silently thanked yourself for leaving a bit early in order to get there in time. The sun had long gone down and the moon had taken its place, so the streets were dark. Only lit up by the street lamps and lights that bled from apartment windows. Most of the businesses were closed for the night, the corner store half a block down was the only one still open.

You had about six blocks to walk and was just about to get out of your car when your phone started vibrating in your hand.

“Hello?” You answered the call, voice pitched with barely concealed amusement.

“Where are you?” Yoongi’s voice was even deeper over the phone, if that were possible. And you could hear the sounds of cars driving past him in the background.

You rolled your eyes even though he wasn’t there to see it. “I told you that I’m here.”

He sighed into the phone and you just knew that he was making a face. “Where is ‘here’ exactly?”

“Like, parked a few blocks away.” You popped your car door open, turning back to the passenger seat to grab your bag. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll be there.”

“Stay where you are.” Yoongi demanded and you raised an eyebrow. “I’ll come get you.”

“You don’t have to.” You huffed a laugh. “I have two legs, ‘ya know.”

“Really? Never noticed.” In the background, voices blended in with the sound of cars. “This neighborhood isn’t exactly the safest. So just tell me where you are so I can make sure you don’t get stabbed or something.”

“‘Stabbed or something?’” It was difficult to hide your amusement now, but you obeyed and got back inside your car anyway, letting him know what street you were on. “My knight in shining armor, you say the most romantic things.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. You knew he did. “Nevermind. Maybe I’ll just let you get stabbed while I make my escape.”

The bark of laughter that left you was impossible to contain. “I could run faster than you and you know it. So try me.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Yeah okay. You wouldn't--”

A click told you that yes, he would. And you were left staring down at your phone with open mouthed disbelief. How dare he? You were just about to call him back and tell him as much, when a knock on your car window had you jumping with a small shriek.

Yoongi stood right outside your door with his fist still raised and a gummy grin on his pouty lips. You just stuck your tongue out at him childishly and grabbed your bag before slipping out of your car. “You’re a bully.”

He slid his hands into the pockets of his dark colored jeans and shrugged. “Would a bully walk all the way over here to make sure you don’t get robbed?”

Now it was your turn to shrug, taking him in and pretending not to see his onyx eyes slide down your body. Yoongi was dressed casually like usual. With a plain white t-shirt and a black zip up jacket thrown over it, he pulled it off like he’d just stepped off a magazine cover. How in the hell he always managed to do that was a mystery to you. And you knew you didn’t compare to him, even with your high-waisted white joggers and grey crop top.

Whatever. It wasn’t like it was bright enough outside to matter anyway.

“That sounds exactly like something a robber would say.” You flicked your hair over your shoulder and took off down the cracked sidewalk, making sure to lock your car behind you.

“Not like there’d be much to steal.” Yoongi’s voice caught up to you right as he did, walking side by side with the occasional brushing of his shoulder against yours.

You responded to his playful jab by lightly smacking his arm. “Careful there. Keep saying such poetic words and you’ll make me fall in love with you, Min Yoongi.”

He went quiet, but you could feel him looking at you from the corner of his eye. His gaze was a weight that burned through you, a light shining through the night.

The rest of the walk passed by pretty quickly, especially when nobody jumped out of an alleyway to rob you at knifepoint. Whether or not that was because of the man walking at your side, or something else, it didn’t matter. Not when the building you were headed to for the night popped up in the distance.

It looked like any other building on the street, with rough brick siding and a glowing red and green sign advertising the bar. Situated on the corner, you were just about to head inside when Yoongi’s hand caught your arm.

“It’s this way.” He answered your confused look by tugging you gently down the alleyway right next to the bar.

“But I thought it was inside.” You glanced back behind you before looking back towards the dead ended alley.

Yoongi dropped his hand from your arm. “It is.”

“Ah, makes sense.” You nodded sarcastically, successfully drawing a smile from your escort.

“Be patient and you’ll see.”

True to his word, you saw what he meant when he came to a stop outside of a side door. There weren’t any signs or anything indicated what it led to, but you could take a guess as Yoongi pulled it open and gestured for you to enter first.

It was dark inside and you had to squint in the dim lighting in order to see anything. You were in what appeared to be some kind of entrance that reminded you of one of the speakeasies downtown. Though there wasn’t a soul in sight, just a staircase at the end of the short hall. Unless you counted the loud base of music pounding through your feet and straight to your bones. The door slammed shut behind Yoongi and then he was taking the lead towards the stairs.

The further down you went, the louder the music got until it was all you could hear. And once you got to the bottom of the stairs and turned into the room, you found out why. Bodies were packed wall-to-wall, some moving to the music pouring from the speakers and others nodding their heads with drinks in their hands. Red and purple lights made the room seem bigger than it actually was, made it easier to lose yourself in the crowd.

Yoongi had taken you to an underground club. Which just made you all the more curious about just what kind of show he was going to be performing in.

“Want a drink?” Yoongi’s voice, even though spoken directly in your ear, was barely distinguishable from the lyrics bleeding through the room.

You simply nodded, taking care not to bash your head into his nose from where he was leaning over for you to hear him. He said something you couldn’t hear, words lost to the crowd. But you assumed he wanted you to follow him when he started to merge himself into the throngs of people. Just when you thought that you’d have to try and fight your way through to keep up with him, he was reaching back to grab your hand.

Wrapped his slender fingers around yours without sparing you a second look.

He was just trying to make sure you didn’t get lost in the crowd. Yeah, that was it. There was no other reason for it, so therefore your heart had no reason to speed up. To thump in time with the bass as you followed behind him. Especially when the warmth from his palm slid into yours.

“What do you want?” Yoongi turned back to speak in your ear. Shit, you hadn’t even realized that you’d already reached the packed bar. So you forced yourself to focus on the two bartenders running around behind it, rather than the hand still in yours.

“Tequila.” You answered. Yoongi raised both eyebrows in surprise before turning back to the bar. With his eyes no longer on you, it made breathing a whole lot easier. And you turned your attention away from Yoongi’s slim back and towards the stage.

It was all the way on the other side of the room and you watched as a guy walked across it with a mic in his hands. The music was lowered and his voice cracked to life through the speakers. Whatever announcement he was making went in one ear and out the other because Yoongi turned back around with a plastic cup extended out towards you. His other hand was empty and you sent him a questioning look.

Whether or not he knew what you were silently asking, or was just making a general announcement, he answered your question. “I have to perform soon.”

You made an ‘o’ with your mouth and accepted the drink with a smile in thanks. “You still haven’t told me what you’re gonna be doing.”

You had to stand on your tippy-toes in order for Yoongi to hear you, which didn’t go unnoticed by him if the amused gleam in his eyes was anything to go by. “You’ll see.”

Which was exactly how you found yourself with another drink in your hands and your back leaning against the bar. If you were being completely honest, you hadn’t been sure what to expect. A lot of different things had popped into your mind about what kind of shows your partner liked to put on. Some ranging from completely ridiculous, to weird, to funny.

But none of them had been this.

Min Yoongi was a lot of things. A talented producer, a deep thinker, a musical genius.

Never would you have thought to add “rapper” to the list. You should have known, was a little surprised at yourself for not being able to guess. Like all other things Min Yoongi, he was incredibly good at it. Took to the stage like a natural. And you were completely awestruck, unable to look away the whole time he was up on that stage, letting words flow from his lips like some kind of poetic river.

Calm, yet bubbling over with the effortless way he captured the attention of everyone in the room. The track he rapped over was fast paced, but he had no trouble keeping up and keeping the crowd engaged at the same time. He performed three songs, but it wasn’t enough. And judging by the one last look at the crowd Yoongi took before exiting the stage, it wasn’t enough for him either.

Whoever took his place didn’t have one ounce of your attention. And maybe that was rude or whatever, but you didn’t care. Not when you caught sight of his blond head making its way towards you. He got stopped multiple times along the way by people congratulating him with pats on the back or short conversations.

By the time Yoongi finally made his way back to your side, your second drink was extended out to him with a grin on your face. You’d barely even taken a sip from it, so it was completely full and beginning to sweat water. “That was amazing!”

The performer on stage was loud, but you could tell that Yoongi heard you by the smile he tried and failed to hide behind the rim of the plastic cup. But you weren’t going to leave it at that, grabbing a hold of his shoulders and squeezing to make sure you got your point across. “Like, incredibly amazing! Why didn’t you tell me you could rap like that?”

“You never asked.” He shrugged. Yoongi wasn’t the type of person to feed off of compliments, you knew that. But that didn’t mean that he didn’t appreciate them. The way his onyx colored eyes glittered told as much. And when he tilted the plastic cup back and drained the contents, the confidence that flowed beneath his skin gave it away too. “You wanna get out of here?”

“Where are we going?”

“Patience, young padawan.”

A snort of amusement from the passenger side of your car had you throwing Yoongi a wink. He completely ignored you in favor of thumbing through the playlist on your phone. It was hooked up to the radio via bluetooth and ever since you’d left the underground club, he’d been focused on silently judging you for your music choices.

When Yoongi had suggested bailing on the club, he hadn’t really had a particular place in mind. Which you’d soon figured out the moment you stepped out the door. He’d taken the subway to the place, so you’d all but shoved him into your car before he had a chance to say no.

“You really have Ariana Grande on here?” He wiggled your phone in your peripheral and you would have rolled your eyes if you weren’t too busy merging off the freeway.

“What’s wrong with Ari?” You huffed in mock offense.

“Nothing.”

“I can literally hear the judgement in your voice.”

“Maybe you should focus on the road then.”

Now you really did roll your eyes. Though the bark of laughter that accompanied it showed your lack of annoyance. “I would if we weren’t already here.”

Yoongi looked up from your phone just as you were putting the car into park. His eyes squinted into the dark with a furrow of his eyebrows. “We’re at the beach?”

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p’ and turned off your car, quickly hopping out before you could fall victim to his flatline stare.

The scent of sea salt lingered in the semi-humid air and you paused for a moment to inhale deeply. There was nothing quite like the smell of the ocean, and when the passenger side door opened and closed, you rounded the car to wave Yoongi along. He caught up to you right as your shoe hit the wooden planks of the boardwalk. You’d had to park way back in one of the lots far away from the beach for whatever godforsaken reason.

Shopfronts, closed and shuttered by metal grates due to the late hour, greeted you as you walked down the path. And Yoongi’s presence at your side was calming. Hell, everything about that man was. Never would you have thought that about him, not at first. Not with the rocky way your friendship had started.

Neither would you have expected the warmth that bloomed in your chest everytime he looked at you with those pretty eyes of his. Or flashed you one of his patented gummy smiles. He’d somehow wormed a place into your heart with that sarcastic wit of his. No, the last thing you would have expected from your final project was this.

But you didn’t mind. Even if he didn’t feel the same way, only looked at you like a friend, you didn’t mind. Because you’d take anything he offered you. And if a friendship was all he was willing to give, that was okay too.

“Where are we going exactly?” Yoongi’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you glanced up at him to see that he was already looking at you.

“Do we need to have a destination?” You shot back with a wiggle of your eyebrows. “It’s all in the journey.”

He rolled his eyes skyward as if silently asking why me, but let a smile touch his lips anyway “And this journey leads to the beach I’m guessing?”

“Maybe.” You dragged out the syllables, nudging your shoulder with his playfully. “Don’t tell me you don’t like the beach.”

“Who doesn’t like the beach?”

“That’s exactly what I’m--whoa.” Your feet came to a halt right as you stepped out from between two shops, where the boardwalk met the beach. Yoongi stopped at your side, but you didn’t even notice.

Because you were too busy staring at the apparent concert that was being held further down the beach. Apparently the loud music you’d heard from the parking lot wasn’t from one of the many speakers placed throughout the boardwalk. Well, that would explain the lack of parking at least.

Even from where the two of you stood, you could tell that the crowd was huge. They took up a big chunk of the beach, bodies nothing but a dark mass in the distance as they danced to the music from the stage. You couldn’t tell who it was, not that far away. But the multicolored lights flashed into the sky like a beacon.

“I wonder who’s performing.” Yoongi’s mumble had you bending down to unlace your shoes. “What’re you doing?”

“You wanna know who’s performing?” Slipping off your socks, you threw both those and your shoes into your bag. Once it was closed up, you sent Yoongi a conspiratorial wink. “Let’s go find out.”

He didn’t move, just gave you a look before realization dawned on his face. “You want to sneak in.”

It was a statement, not a question, but you nodded your head anyway. “Come on, when will you ever have the chance to do something like this again. Don’t tell me you’re scared we’ll get caught.”

Yoongi scoffed, but leaned down to slip off his shoes in an uncharacteristic move. You knew he wasn’t much of a partier and didn’t do things like this very often. So the fact that he was caving to your suggestion had your mind whirling. “I’m just surprised, is all.”

“At what?”

A smirk was thrown your way as he stood back up, but that was all the answer you got. After all the time you’ve spent with the man, you’d like to consider yourself a Yoongi Whisperer. So that smirk probably meant something along the lines of: I’m surprised that you’re a super awesome badass.

Or something.

“Just come on.” You grabbed his hand without thinking, dragging him behind you onto the sand. When he failed to complain, you took that as a greenlight to continue doing so.

When his fingers linked themselves with yours, it took all you had to not falter in your steps. To pretend like you weren’t affected by such a thoughtless action. To calm the rapid beating of your heart.

The closer you got to the concert, the louder the music got, until you could hear the roar of the crowd over the artist on stage. It was EDM, or at least sounded like it. Of course, as soon as you got closer, you spotted your first hurdle. One you’d been unable to see from far away.

A chain link fence stood between the two of you and a night of fun. It had your shoulders deflating before you even realized it, and you turned to the blond at your side. “Should we climb it or something?”

Biting your lip, you eyed just how far up it was. Even if the two of you managed to climb it, there was no way that you wouldn’t be spotted by security. And being arrested was the last thing on your to-do list.

“Or.” Yoongi crossed over to the fence and wrapped his hands along the bottom of it. With a quick glance around to make sure that no one was looking, he lifted it up and back, bending it backwards with just enough space left at the bottom for someone to squeeze underneath.

There was no way that he would have been strong enough on his own to lift it, and a closer look had you snorting a laugh. Apparently the two of you weren’t the only ones who’d had the idea to sneak in.

“You going?” He questioned and you started forward before a smartass remark could leave his mouth.

The sand was cool beneath your body as you shimmied underneath the space between the fence and the ground. And once you were on the other side, you crouched down and grabbed the fence from Yoongi to pull back towards your side. “I’m surprised that you’re going along with this, to be honest. Don’t you hate music like this?”

He grunted as he crawled across the sand towards you. “You wanted to.”

“So?” Your voice was soft, but he was still able to hear you over the pounding bass. The fence dropped from your fingers once he was on your side, but you didn’t move, just stared up at him as he stood.

“So.” Yoongi started, extending a hand down to help you up. “Are you coming?”

His answer had warmth blossoming in your chest and a tiny smile blooming on your face. Had you reaching out to let him help you up off the sand. He didn’t let go while you brushed yourself off, but he did guide the both of you towards the writhing crowd, if only to avoid being spotted by security.

It was a good thing that Yoongi was a slim man, because it made slipping through the numerous dancing bodies closer towards the stage a whole lot easier. You’d made it to about the middle when he stopped and tugged you closer to join him in a pocket of space between two different groups of people. The scent of marijuana mixed in with sea salt from the ocean in a cocktail that usually accompanied things like that.

“Dance with me.” You spoke into Yoongi’s ear, ignoring the excited flush you felt at being so close to him.

“I can’t dance.” He stated, despite the hand he slipped around your waist and pressed into your back. Whether or not to move you out of the range of the group of girls dancing wildly behind you, or something else, you didn’t know.

Chest to chest, you’d be surprised if he couldn’t feel how fast your heart was beating. “Mm. I don’t believe you. Everyone can dance.”

“That’s a lie.” Yoongi’s lips were titled up at the corners and his gaze on you was soft. Gentle.

The flashing lights on the stage flickered through his dark colored eyes. Turned those once pools of onyx into a glittering galaxy that you couldn’t look away from. That hypnotized you like the beat that pulsed beneath your skin and drowned your ears.

“That’s not true.” Your mumble was lost to the crowd. Buried somewhere underneath the music as he moved closer. And the butterflies nestled deep in your gut fluttered their wings when his other hand cupped the side of your face.

Your eyes fluttered closed when his nose brushed yours and his breath fanned across your cheek. That was the only warning you got before his mouth was on yours. His lips were soft and he tasted like the strawberry chapstick he liked to wear. And the kiss, like everything Min Yoongi, was slow. Not in a lazy way. More like he was taking the time to savor it. To remember what your hair felt like as he slid his hand into it.

Or the way you involuntarily sighed into his mouth when his teeth caught your bottom lip. How your fingers found their way into the short hairs at the nape of his neck when you pulled him closer. How he’d had to hold back a laugh at the way you were standing on your tippy-toes in order to reach him.

You probably wouldn’t have pulled away and neither would he, if it weren’t for the rain that suddenly tore from the sky like an opened dam. Drenching anything and everything around it faster than you could blink. It had you forcing yourself away from the magnetizing pull of Yoongi’s lips to give him an eye crinkling smile.

“What was that for?” You didn’t care if you were getting wet.

Neither did he apparently, because he ran a thumb over the lips he’d just kissed, sending shivers down your spine. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“No. Break it down for me.”

He met your imploring gaze almost bashfully, eyes squinting from the rain. “I’ve liked you since practically the beginning of the semester.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “What? Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

Yoongi shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t know how.”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you let out a small laugh. “I can’t believe you, Min Yoongi.”

He opened his mouth to respond when he was cut off by a loud clap of thunder. Both of you glanced up at the dark sky at the same time.

Everyone around you was either ignoring the torrential downpour or shrieking and attempting to use anything to shield themselves from getting wet. Once the sound of thunder echoed a streak of lightning, you knew what was about to happen next and turned to meet Yoongi’s eyes. He, like everyone else, was drenched and his blond hair stuck to the damp skin of his face. It had you grinning at the pout on his mouth and you leaned forward to press your lips to his one final time before pulling away.

“We should get out of here before everyone else decides to do the same.” You had to shout to be heard over both the rain and the noise from everything else. It was only a matter of time before the concert got either canceled or postponed due to the thunderstorm and you didn’t want to be caught in the middle.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Yoongi wiped water from his eyes and grabbed your hand to start navigating the hell out of there.

And as your eyes trained themselves to his slim back and your fingers interlocked themselves with his, you smiled. The lyrics that you’d been struggling so hard to write came to life beneath the fire in your chest. You had no one but the man in front of you to thank for the inspiration.

Min Yoongi was a lot of things.

A musical genius, a poet, a light in a sea of darkness.

Min Yoongi was nothing if not beautiful.