#i heard that he once high-fived her after sympathy and i find that adorable

[fanficimagery]

Friends in High Places

Summary: When Spencer comes home with files to a case that has his team stumped, he's surprised when you- his neighbor for a couple years now- is the person who gives them a new lead to follow. That and that you're ex-SHIELD.

Words: 8K Warnings: This is what I get for starting a rewatch of Criminal Minds and then watching Marvel movies all in one day. Fml. I've never written for Criminal Minds, so please excuse the mediocre-ness of their characterization. I have no idea what I'm doing; I just knew I wanted a crossover between these two fandoms. Also timeline? What are those? All you gotta know is that this is an AU where Bucky's joined the team and Steve DIDN'T ruin the life Peggy Carter would have had. As for the CM side, this is sometime after Hotch has left and Emily took over. Idk.

Having the night off and wanting nothing more than to just be lazy, you're sitting on your couch in your most comfiest clothes and mindlessly scrolling through Tumblr as your TV plays some program on Animal Planet. You're not even paying attention to the program, but the low sound is perfect for background noise.

You're queuing up some art posts that catch your attention, as well as some gif sets of the TV shows you've become a constant viewer of in the past few years, when there's a knock at your door. But not just any knock. It's a specific knock that you and your neighbor came up with after you got to know each other and became fast friends, and it was to let the other know they were home and wanted company. You mostly worked nights and his work schedule was always all over the place, so it's surprising you're both home at the same time.

Picking up your phone, you shoot him a quick text that you'll be over in five.

Spencer Reid is literally the man of every woman's dream, even if they didn't know it. He's cute and adorable and sometimes dangerously hot all rolled into one, and the best thing about it all is that he doesn't even know it. You had met him on one of your first few days in the apartment complex, but unfortunately it was during one of your slight panic attacks when a thunderstorm had caught you off guard while you were sitting in your car and you didn't have an umbrella.

He had seen and heard you freaking out as he was passing by, and knocked on the passenger window. You had collected yourself just long enough to roll the window down a few inches when he asked if you were okay, then proceeded to answer his own question by stating you obviously weren't. When he realized you lived in the same complex and asked if he could climb inside your car and out of the storm, you had stared at him in confusion until he realized that might have been a bit weird since you were strangers. He stammered his way through his explanation of being an FBI agent and after showing you his badge you had let him in.

You didn't have to tell him what was making you panic and he proceeded to keep your mind occupied. He asked about you and where you had moved in from, and spewed random facts about anything to temporarily make you forget about the storm raging outside. But the torrential rain wasn't letting up and the lightning was only getting closer and closer. He made you realize you had to make a run for it and even offered up his umbrella for you. You had thanked him with tears in your eyes and made a run for it on the count of three when you were settled just enough.

Inside the lobby of your apartment building, you had stood there trembling while Spencer nervously gripped onto the strap of his messenger bag as he stood across from you. When you were shaking the water off his umbrella, you hesitantly told him your reasoning for your freak-out. It wasn't necessarily the thunderstorm, but rather the torrential rain that wasn't letting up. A few years back you had a drowning incident and too much water on your face tended to bring back those memories. He said he understood and then with a sympathy tinged smile he offered to walk you to your apartment. It was a pleasant surprise to learn you had only lived two doors down from him.

Weeks turned into months and months into a couple of years, and you and Spencer were nearly inseparable when you both had the same day/night off.

So after quickly fixing your already messy hair so you don't look like a complete slob, and pulling on a loose hoodie, you grab your phone from the sofa and then head on out. Your socked feet keep your footsteps quiet as you head down to Spencer's door where you knock three times on it before opening it up and stepping inside.

But before you can greet him with a cheesy welcome, he's already calling out, "Hope you haven't had dinner. I picked up some burgers on the way home."

On cue, your stomach grumbles. "God bless you, you beautiful, beautiful man!" You hear him laugh from a room that's not where his kitchen is, so you make a beeline for the kitchen instead of accidentally walking in on him changing. There are two paper bags on the table and you quickly grab plates from his cabinet to separate the food on. Spencer enters the kitchen in a shirt and some gray joggers, and you greet him with a beaming smile. "You're home and in one piece! Yay!" He laughs and you quickly lean in to peck his cheek, not saying a word when you catch sight of his pink tinged cheeks. "You have any beer?"

"Yes. Grab two, please."

"Got it." You hear one of his kitchen chairs creak as you open his refrigerator to grab two beers, you then searching a nearby drawer for the bottle opener. Once you find it, you walk back over to the table and open each beer before handing one over to him.

"Thanks."

"Mhm." Taking a seat, you set your beer down before unwrapping your burger and dumping your fries out onto the plate. "So what's up, doc? You're home surprisingly early."

"We've hit a wall on our latest case," he says, keeping it vague. "There was nothing for us to do while Garcia did her thing, so Emily sent us home for a bit."

"Nice." You take a bite of your burger and your eyes widen when Spencer's eyebrows raise in surprise. When you realize how your words sounded, you're quick to backtrack. "Wait! It's not nice that you hit a wall, but nice that you got sent home! I got free food out of it. That's why it's nice. Not because, you know, you haven't found the-"

"Y/N, you're rambling," Spencer says, lips twitching. "I understood what you meant."

You sigh, shoulders dropping, and grab half a fry to toss at him. "Eat your food, Reid. It's getting cold."

It surprisingly doesn't take long for the two of you to eat your dinner, you both being hungrier than you first thought. After you're done, Spencer turns down a second beer but tells you to help yourself. You do. And on the way into his living room, you bump into one of his chairs and knock his bag over. You gasp and set your beer down on the coffee table, falling to your knees to scoop up his files that had spilled out.

Chuckling, Spencer crouches next to you as you profusely apologize.

"It's okay. It was an accident." A few pictures had slid out of their files and normally you'd just shove them back in because his work wasn't any of your business, but the face staring back up at you makes you pause. Blonde hair, blue eyes, a little heavy on the eyeliner, and a lip piercing. You know her. "Y/N?" You gulp and flip to another picture- brown hair, brown eyes, mole above the right eyebrow. You know her too. "Y/N? Are you okay?"

With trembling hands, you flip back to the first picture and show it to him. "Is Lilian dead?"

Spencer's eyes widen. "You knew her?"

Knew. Past tense. She is dead. Showing him the second picture, you nod sadly. "Kyndall too."

He seems to stop breathing then and from one moment to the next he's opening files and pulling out picture after picture. As you stare at each of them, you grimace and swallow down the bile that's threatening to climb its way up your throat. "Y/N, do you know any of the others?"

Shakily exhaling, you point at each picture. "Desiree, Celeste, Maria. I don't know this one, but I think her last name was Valdez? And then the male is Tim."

Spencer falls on his butt, staring at you in surprise. "That's right. We know their names and their current line of work, but that's about it. Their files only seem to go back a few years. Everything between the end of their high school career and current line of work seems to be scrubbed clean. Do you- do you know of any connection between these people? Any little thing you know can possibly be a big help to my team."

Your gaze darts up to him and your heart sinks. You've managed to keep your past mostly hidden, but now it seems the time has come to tell him what you did before. "They, uh, they're all ex-agents of SHIELD. The real SHIELD, not HYDRA."

"What?"

"If I remember correctly, they were computer analysts or paper pushers. They had gun training as one would think an agent would have, but they were agents who didn't really have to train in hand-to-hand since they never made it out into the field."

"You're positive? How do you know this?"

You gulp. "Because I'm ex-SHIELD too."

Spencer blinks at you, but then in the next moment he's up on his feet and reaching for his phone. He places a quick phone call, stepping into another room and leaving you alone. Your stomach sinks and you have a feeling that this confession might have just put a wedge in your friendship. After all, though ex-agents were being picked up by other different branches of the government, you weren't sure just how exactly trustworthy all ex-agents were being treated.

Spencer reappears, nervously tucking his hair behind his ear. "Do you mind coming with me back to work? My co-workers could really pick your brain about this."

You blink at him. "W-What? You're not mad at me?"

"Mad?" He chuckles. "Why would I be mad? I mean I wish I had known what you did so I didn't have to worry about you being alone when I left for a case, but I can see why you would keep that underwraps. HYDRA made a lot of people paranoid."

"Tell me about it," you mumble. Then after a few seconds, you finally climb up to your own two feet. "Um, just let me go put on some shoes. I'll meet you in the hall."

Spencer's smile and nod eases some of your worries, but you still quickly make an escape to go put on some shoes. Your front door bangs open and you hurry to your hall closet. Yanking open that door, you pull on the first pair of Converse you come across. Then taking a moment to think, you grab a pair of knee high boots that you use every once in a while. Reaching inside, you grab your old badge and a USB stick, sticking your badge in your back pocket and the USB in your front pocket. Then grabbing your keys from the hook by the front door, you shut the door after exiting and lock it. Spencer is waiting down the hall for you and you jog towards him. He tightly smiles and then leads you downstairs, towards his car, and you sit quietly in his passenger seat while he drives.

On the way towards Spencer's place of work, he can't help but ask, "So what exactly did you do with SHIELD if you don't mind me asking."

You shrug. "Cat's out of the bag now, so I don't mind." You chuckle though it kind of falls flat. "I was, uh, a computer analyst for a while. But then I was taken on a field trip with a few agents and we ended up trading bullets with several not so nice guys. The field agents liked the way I handled myself and requested I level up, so to speak."

"And you never thought of trying to get hired on with anyone else? If I recall, the FBI and CIA were picking up ex-SHIELD agents after the fall."

You shake your head. "Remember that drowning incident I mentioned? Or the reason why I can't take baths anymore and have to turn my shower on and off between washing?" Spencer hums, remembering what he thought were odd quirks until he realized it was all because of your fear of certain amounts of water. "That drowning incident was HYDRA's fault. I spent months in rehab and just- well, no one wanted a damaged agent."

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm kind of glad they didn't. I quite like my neighbor who picks up take-out and bakes sweets for me after a rough case."

You try not to think too much about his words and instead choose to smile at him before looking out your window. The drive is only about twenty minutes and fortunately the radio fills in the semi-tense silence.

When you get to the FBI building, Spencer escorts you inside with a hand at the small of your back. You're given a visitor's badge and you quickly clip it onto the hem of your hoodie. The elevator ride up to the BAU's main floor is a short one and it opens up to a wall of glass where you can see several desks behind it.

Spencer opens the door for you and you can't help but make yourself seem as small as possible. You cross your arms over your chest, hugging yourself as you enter the room. There are several people milling about, but no one pays you any attention. Only one female, dark bangs covering her forehead while the rest of her hair falls just passed her shoulders, heads towards you once she spots you and Spencer.

"Y/N," Spencer says, introducing you to the woman as she nears, "this is our Unit Chief Emily Prentiss. Emily, this is my good friend Y/N Y/L/N."

Emily is all smiles as she reaches to shake your hand. "Hi! It's nice to finally meet the girl who takes care of our boy wonder after cases."

Spencer nervously chuckles and you find yourself genuinely grinning. "It's nice to finally meet you too. I've heard some funny stories about all you guys."

"I will neither confirm nor deny any of those."

Emily then leads you towards a room where three others are waiting. "Guys, this is Y/N Y/L/N. Friend of Spence and ex-agent of SHIELD. Y/N, this is Special Agent Derek Morgan and Jennifer Jareau, and our very own technical analyst Penelope Garcia."

Everyone happily greets you and Jennifer even gives you the go ahead to call her JJ. You're offered a seat at their round table and you glance at their board filled with pictures of people you used to work with. Spencer sits next to you and you offer him a feeble smile when he reaches beneath the table to squeeze your knee.

"Alright, guys, I know we're all interested in the girl who lives next to Spence, but we need to get down to business." Spencer groans as his teammates all chuckle. "So Y/N, is there anything else you can give us about the victims? What exactly did they do? Did they all personally know each other or just enough because they were coworkers? Even the smallest bit of info that you think is inconsequential can help us."

"I, uh, I can do you one better," you say. You shift in your seat and reach into your front pocket, pulling out the USB stick. "Since I figure all those NDA's we signed are now null and void thanks to Agent Romanoff's data dump, and because you're Spencer's friend, I feel comfortable handing this over. It kind of made me nervous keeping it in my house anyway."

You slide the USB towards Penelope and she gasps, snatching it up and holding it as if it were the holy grail. "Is this- are these files? Because let me tell you, I tried to download those files as soon as they hit the net but there were just so many and not even our WiFi could download it fast enough before they were scrubbed clean."

You grin and nod, chuckling at Penelope's squeal. "I started collecting everyone's files that I could get my hands on. I started with the baby agents- agents whose files wouldn't toss up red flags when their files were opened. The more clearance I was granted, the more files I was able to download."

"Oh my god. Yes! You are my new favorite person." Penelope rushes around the table, bending down to kiss your cheek with a loud mwah! "Reid, keep this one. I'll be in my lair."

The group all chuckle as you blush, but then Agent Morgan is clearing his throat. "Not that I'm not grateful about what you're giving up, but isn't what you were doing illegal?"

You shrug. "It possibly was, but then Director Fury realized I was memorizing it all and didn't have a problem with it so long as those files didn't leave my office."

"But you have them on you now," Morgan says.

"Yeah. The USB was hidden within my belongings in my office. My office surprisingly survived unscathed after Captain Rogers crashed the helicarriers into the Potomac, and my stuff was packed up and shipped to me while I was in rehab."

"If you don't mind me asking," JJ wonders, "but were you at the Triskelion when HYDRA came out or..?"

"I don't mind the questions at all," you say. "It's actually quite nice to talk about it with people who aren't eyeing me suspiciously." The group flashes you small smiles. "I was actually on a consulting job with a recently formed SHIELD team whose base was a humongous plane that was constantly on the move. Anyway, one of those trusted team members ended up being HYDRA. He led a group of his men onto the plane, killed half of us to get control of it, and then locked me and two scientists into a holding pod before dropping us into the middle of the ocean."

"The drowning incident," Spencer suddenly realizes.

You smile sadly at him, nodding. "We sank to the bottom of the ocean floor. There were three of us and only one little oxygen tank." Spencer grabs your hand beneath the table and you're grateful for the grounding pressure. "We gave it to Jemma. Fitz and I were going to attempt to swim, but we didn't make it. Fitz blacked out first, then me, and then- then nothing. We woke up in a trusted SHIELD facility, and Fitz and I couldn't operate like we used to. With our brains having been deprived of oxygen, it messed us up for a while."

"Wow," Emily says. "I am so sorry."

You shrug at her with a small smile. "It was all part of the job."

"What do you do now?" Morgan asks. "I hate to say it, but with all our victims being ex-SHIELD, and you as well, we have to rule you out as-"

"I get it." You smile in reassurance at him since it kind of pained him to admit that you could be a suspect and have Spencer glare at him for even thinking it. "I'm a bouncer at a bar most nights."

Morgan chuckles. "A bouncer? You!?"

"Hey! I might not look like much, but I did train with Avengers. I could probably give you a run for your money, agent Morgan."

"Okay, okay," he muses.

"I also work as private security for Stark Industries when they throw galas. If you need the exact dates I've been working, I can get that for you."

"Please," JJ says. "Spencer's already vouched for you, but protocol and all that. You understand."

"I do. I'll just- I'll text my bosses to email my clock-ins and clock-outs."

Pulling out your phone, you immediately text your boss at the bar and Pepper Potts. You keep the explanation vague as to why you need it, but assure them it's very much needed for a case the FBI is working on. They completely understand and you even have to make Pepper swear not to get Tony involved.

The emails come in not even ten minutes later and JJ happily takes your phone to run the dates with Penelope, promising to be quick about it. You remain in your seat, watching as Morgan and Emily walk towards the board and start tossing their thoughts back and forth over what they've learned so far.

Your hands are atop the table, thumbs chipping away the already chipped nail polish you have on. The second you raise your hand with the intent of chewing on your thumb nail, Spencer catches your hand. "You okay?" He quietly asks and you stare at him. He then lets your hand go as you pull them back into your lap.

"Yeah. Just getting kind of tired. And a bit anxious. Someone's targeting ex-SHIELD agents and I- well I'm one of those people."

"No one is going to hurt you, Y/N. I promise."

You feebly smile, not taking his words to heart because you know he can't actually keep that promise. He might want to, but you know better than to take these types of promises seriously in situations such as this.

JJ reappears, a bright smile in place as she hands you your phone. "I'm pretty sure Penelope programmed her number in there."

"That's fine." You chuckle. You lay your phone on the table, giving your attention back to Emily and Morgan who's now being joined by JJ.

"Guys, Garcia is having a ball right now. There's so much information she wasn't privy to before, but I'm not sure how any of it is going to help more than Y/N already has." Emily and Morgan look at JJ, waiting for her to explain. "We already know victims weren't the best at hand-to-hand, which the unsub clearly took advantage of. But we need to know what they were presently doing and if they were checking in with anyone because there are a lot of dead ex-agents. That's not a coincidence. Either someone who's ex-SHIELD or HYDRA is picking off ex-agents one by one, or someone who has a grudge against SHIELD found a list of ex-agents and is working their way down the list."

"Where do we even start?" Morgan asks, incredulous. "SHIELD technically doesn't exist anymore and those who are operating in the shadows are nearly impossible to track down thanks to the Avengers. None of them are exactly easy to get a hold of after General Ross made it his personal mission to bring in James Buchanan Barnes for crimes HYDRA made him commit. They like working on their own."

"We'd have to jump through a bunch of hoops just to get a face to face," Emily says, sighing. "If we're lucky they'll want in on the case since it's related to SHIELD."

"Um, actually.." You nervously raise your hand, calling all attention on you. "You can bypass all those hoops."

Emily stares at you, sitting on the edge of the table as she crosses her arms over her chest. "You still have connections, don't you?" At your sheepish grin, she huffs in amusement. Every other team member straightens with hope in their expressions.

"Agent Prentiss, I am the connection." As you pick up your phone once more, JJ and Morgan step closer to the table. You scroll through your contacts, finding the one you need and tapping on it. Then putting it on speaker, you try to soothe your nerves as the ringing through the speaker seems to make the atmosphere of the room become tense.

The ringing stops as the connection is made and then, "Well, well, well. If it isn't my second favorite human on God's green Earth." You roll your eyes at the charm oozing from him. "What kind of trouble are you in now, doll?"

Emily and JJ's eyes widen, and you shake your head in amusement. "Put your boyfriend on the line, Barnes. I'm calling in a favor."

"Are you calling to finally take us up on that offer of joining us for a night?"

Everyone in the room seems to freeze, although Morgan is highly enjoying where this seems to be going. You close your eyes, scrunching up your nose. You can't believe they just heard that. "Steve really needs to put a muzzle on you."

"Well if you're into that-"

"Bucky!" You bark. "You're on speaker." Morgan finally loses the battle with his laughter and you wish you can sink into your chair. Instead you have to settle for just insanely blushing and covering your face with one hand. "I'm currently with the BAU of the FBI. They have a case that they could use some help on."

"Oh." There's a beat of silence. "Christ, Y/N. You should have stopped me sooner. Stevie's gonna lecture me again. Hold on. I'll go get him."

The line goes silent and you nervously meet Spencer's gaze. He's the only one who doesn't seem as amused which is why you don't find Bucky's greeting as funny as you normally would. Something about his expression actually makes you wish Bucky hadn't said anything.

"Y/N?"

You sit a little straighter in your seat. "Hey, Cap."

"What's going on? Buck mentioned the FBI."

"Uh yeah. I'm with Agents Prentiss, Morgan, Jareau, and Doctor Reid," you tell him. "They've been dealing with a case that had gone cold and well I kind of made a connection they hadn't seen before because they couldn't, and uh I'm sure they could use your help."

"What was the connection?"

You look at Emily and she nods, letting you tell him. "Steve, all the victims are ex-SHIELD. Specifically agents who wouldn't have had too much training; who couldn't hold their own without a gun in hand."

There's a sharp inhale. "What do they need?"

Emily's eyes close in relief and she holds her hand out for your phone. You happily oblige her and hand it over. "Captain Rogers, this is Special Agent Emily Prentiss. I'm the one in charge of my team here."

"Hello, Agent Prentiss. How can my team and I be of help?"

"Well we mainly need to pick your brains and ask some questions. We're aware that SHIELD is still operating to an extent, even if it is in the shadows, so we'd like to know if the victims were still affiliated with you. If we're dealing with someone who is or was from SHIELD or HYDRA, we'd like to have you involved since you have more experience with how they operate."

"That's fine. I'll gather my team and set up a room. Are you okay to set up base here in the Compound?"

"Yes!" JJ says, starting everyone. She clears her throat and calms herself. "Yes."

Steve chuckles. "Very well. Gather everything you need. I'll be sending a quinjet for you all since it'll be faster. Y/N knows the pick-up location."

"Thank you so much, Captain Rogers."

Emily hands you the phone and seeing that the call is still connected, you say, "Hey, Steve? Thanks for this."

"It's not a problem, sweetheart. Are you okay though? You're an ex-shield agent yourself."

"I know, but nothing has been out of the ordinary. I'm okay."

"Good. You coming too?"

"I was actually planning on going home after driving the agents to the location. I'm not an active agent anymore, bub."

"I know you're not, but with that agent neighbor of yours coming here I rather have you here as well so we can keep an eye on you." You sigh at his protectiveness. "Bring a change of clothes for a week. I'll have Nat get a hold of your boss and let him know some of what's going on so you'll have a job to go back to once all of this is over."

"You're a pain in the ass, Rogers."

Steve laughs. "See you soon, Y/L/N."

The call ends and you set your phone down. Glancing up, you smile sheepishly at the team staring at you. "So, uh, I guess I'm tagging along. Sorry about that."

Emily opens her mouth, her words getting stuck as she shakes her head in amusement. "Don't be. You got us working with the Avengers within minutes as opposed to taking hours, possibly even a day if I had to put in a request."

Morgan whistles appreciatively. "This is insane. I'm gonna give Garcia a heads up about our field trip. Expect another tag a long. I don't think she'll pass up this opportunity."

You chuckle as JJ says, "Rossi is going to be so pissed he took a vacation and missed out on working with the Avengers." Then looking at you, she adds, "Do you think Spider-Man will be there? My son absolutely loves him and I would be the coolest mom ever if I got a picture or video with him."

"I'm sure Pe- uh, I'm sure Spider-Man will make an appearance," you say. "He's always hanging around after his classes are done for the day."

JJ's eyes widen. "You totally know who he is."

"I do. And let me tell you, he absolutely adores kids. Ask and he'll happily oblige."

"Guys. Guys!" Emily says. "Case first, fangirl later."

Spencer snorts and you elbow him on reflex. He grumbles, Emily and JJ grin, and you innocently smile at Emily. "Sorry, Agent Prentiss. I'll just- I'll go sit on that couch over there so I'm not in the way."

Emily starts telling her team what needs to be done, repeating herself again when Morgan returns with a clearly excited Garcia. Morgan informs everyone he'll go gather the boxes of files while Spencer immediately sets out to disassemble the board of pictures and post-its. Garcia excitedly rushes back to her own office to pack up a few things, while Emily and JJ figure out what all they'll need to be taking with them.

To keep yourself occupied, you waste a few minutes by playing a game on your phone.

You're not sure how much time has passed, but someone hesitantly sitting next to you takes your attention off your phone. Glancing up, you see Spencer sitting there and realize everyone else has cleared out of the room. "We should be ready to head out in about ten minutes."

"Oh. Okay."

There's a moment of silence and then, "Soo.. Bucky Barnes." He chuckles, running a hand through his hair, and you can tell his amusement isn't exactly genuine. "He's- he's not the type of person I pictured you with if I'm being honest."

"Barnes?" You snort. "Ew. No." Spencer seems surprised by your reply. "Bucky likes to flirt with me because he knows it won't go anywhere. He's well aware of the actual person I have a crush on and he respects that. Mostly."

"O-Oh? So there is someone in the picture then?"

"Well, not really," you say. Squirming in your seat, you're not totally comfortable with the direction this talk has taken until you see you're not the only one squirming. Spencer is avoiding eye contact, but he's also clearly awaiting your answer. There's also a telltale flush up the side of his neck to the tips of his ears, and- oh. Oh. Seeing how nervous Spencer suddenly is makes you feel better. So better, in fact, that you feel you should speak up about something that you've kept secret for a while. "Well I mean I'd like there to be," you say, grinning when he freezes. "The thing is, he actually lives down the hall from me." Cue him holding his breath. "He's totally adorable, but also secretly hot which is so unfair, and he works for the FBI." Spencer's head snaps in your direction, eyes wide. You smile sheepishly and shrug. "The only downfall is that he's way too good for someone like me, so I settled for friendship."

Your heart is beating terribly fast and the only thing keeping you glued to your seat is Spencer grinning bashfully, cheeks pink. "If you ask me, I don't think he's too good at all. I-If anything, he probably thinks you were too good for him which is why he never made his own feelings known."

Relief washes over you and you laugh. "We're idiots, huh?"

Lips pressed together, he smiles wide. Then, "A little."

"Rain check on this discussion? We've got Avengers to greet and you have a case to solve."

"Of course!" Spencer hastily stands, offering you a hand up. Grinning, you take it and let him pull you to your feet while shoving your phone into your back pocket. "Wherever we're going, is it okay to leave our vehicles there?"

"Yeah. It's private property and pretty secluded. No one gets in without codes."

"Okay then. We'll swing by our building for your bag and then you can direct one of the drivers while the other follows."

"Sure. Sounds like a plan."

Because of the connection between the list of victims, you have an escort up to your apartment while you pack a bag. Emily and JJ happily accompany you, leaving Spencer to fend for himself with Morgan and Garcia.

In your apartment, the two female agents waste no time in subtly trying to figure out your exact feelings for their dear friend and you take great amusement in skirting around the answer they so desperately try to pry out of you. And it's only after your duffel is packed do you tell them you and Spencer had admitted some things to each other, but you are planning to talk about it further after their case is closed. JJ seems oddly giddy and Emily coos about their boy genius growing up. You blush, relieved that they've taken a to liking to you. Then when you get back to the vehicles, you know Spencer has been questioned as well given the smirks being sent your way.

The drive to the field isn't long and the team is impressed by the level of security for a seemingly abandoned airfield. There's an unmanned gate which you get off at to speak for voice recognition, punch in a specific code, give a hand print, and then secretly have your forefinger pricked for a blood sample. Then when the gate swings open, you quickly climb back into the car and instruct Emily towards the second gate where a guard sits. The guard greets you warmly and, after you introduce those in the vehicle with you, he assures you he knows all about the impending pick-up.

"So what exactly are we in for?" Morgan asks. You're all waiting in an opened hangar, the boxes they'd packed sitting on the ground.

"Your perceptions about them are about to be changed," you admit. "I'm sure you've all told yourselves that the Avengers are just like you and I, but you have no idea how true that it is until you meet them."

"Who is the nicest?" JJ wonders.

You take a moment to think about. "Honestly? They're all nice, but if I had to choose I'd choose Spider-Man. It's hard not to like him. The kid's a puppy."

"Who gives the best hugs?" Garcia quickly adds.

Everyone chuckles at her eagerness. "That's a tough one," you say. You ponder on it for a moment. "I say it's a tie between Steve and Thor. They hug full on, chest to chest. None of that half-assed, one arm hug nonsense."

Garcia practically swoons. "Oh to be wrapped up in those beefy Asgardian arms." You snort and shake your head in amusement.

Another twenty minutes pass and you regale Spencer and his friends about some of your work with SHIELD. But all too soon the telltale sound of a quinjet reaches your ears and when you look up you see one incoming.

"Well that was hella fast," Garcia muses when she spots the quinjet herself.

JJ grins. "Stark technology. Gotta love it."

Emily nods in agreement. "We definitely need an upgrade."

Whoever is flying the quinjet lands it with ease, and Spencer, Morgan, and JJ immediately pick up their boxes. Shouldering the strap of your duffel bag, you start heading towards the quinjet when the ramp is being lowered and the team follows a few steps behind.

Clint Barton walks off the ramp and you chuckle, hurrying your steps. Both your arms go around his neck and one of his arms wraps low around your waist. "Short stack," he says. "What trouble did you get into now?"

"Why does everyone assume I'm in trouble?" You pout as you pull back, pinching his cheek and cooing before stepping back out of range. "And what are you even doing here? Shouldn't you be on the farm with those precious little heathens?"

"I was, but Laura had leftovers for Nat and Wanda. I was just dropping them off when Steve rounded up the team."

"Oh nice." Then turning around, you gesture to the BAU team. "Clint, meet Special Agents Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau, Doctor Spencer Reid, and the brains of the beauty of the team Miss Penelope Garcia. Guys, meet Clint Barton formerly known as Hawkeye."

Everyone shakes hands, with the exception of Garcia who slaps his hand away and pulls him into a hug.

"Baby girl," Morgan laughs, "what are you doing?"

She squeezes a chuckling Clint before letting go, she then whirling on her own friend. "This is my first time meeting the Avengers. Do not take this from me!" Morgan's eyebrows raise in amusement, the whole team and Clint chuckling.

Then not wasting anymore time, Clint ushers everyone on board. He shows them where the boxes and your bag can be stowed before taking the pilot's seat up front, only to be joined by Morgan moments later in the co-pilot seat. You show Emily and Garcia how to buckle in, and then take your own seat between JJ and Spencer.

Clint counts down for lift off and you grip your harness as you feel the quinjet take flight. Spencer nudges you with his elbow and you glance at him, grinning to assure him you're okay. But when you can feel the quinjet picking up speed thanks to the feeling in your gut, you close your eyes and are thankful that no one brings up the fact that you're actually really nervous right now.

Your left hand is grabbed and gently pried from your grip on the harness, and your eyes fly open in surprise. You look towards your left and JJ smiles at you reassuringly as she squeezes your hand in comfort. Then when your right hand is grabbed and given the same treatment, you glance over at Spencer and can't help but blurt, "I-I've never been nervous about flying before."

"It's perfectly normal to subconsciously be nervous or anxious after we trudged up your past earlier," he says. "Just close your eyes and relax. We won't let anything happen to you."

You nod, smiling shakily and turn your head to rest it against the headrest of your seat. Then closing your eyes, you're grateful for the team not asking you anything for the duration of the ride. Instead, they save their questions for Clint who's all too happy to answer what he can.

You know the Compound's come into view when Morgan whistles in appreciation. Clint lands to quinjet with ease and then everyone's unbuckling themselves when he gives the go ahead. Before you can grab your bag, however, Spencer is grabbing it and beaming at you when you sigh with mock annoyance.

One by one the BAU team disembarks after Clint, leaving you and Spencer to bring up the rear. You hear Clint introducing everyone and notice everyone's congregated around in a circle. Then just as you and Spencer join, you notice that Garcia is petting Bucky's vibranium arm. You snort, catching an amused Steve's attention.

"Y/N," he greets.

"Steve." You step forward, briefly hugging him and then Bucky. As you step back in line, you gesture towards Spencer to introduce him. "This is Doctor Spencer Reid. Spence, this is Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes."

Steve leans in for a handshake, but then pauses mid-shake. "Wait. Spencer Reid? The Spencer Reid?" He grins. "Are you- are you and the agent neighbor one in the same?"

You sharply inhale, eyes widening when everyone turns to stare at your rapidly blushing face. Steve's grin turns rather teasing and your eyes narrow at him. "Two words; octopus dick." Steve's amusement vanishes, and everyone turns towards a now blushing Steve as Bucky guffaws. You turn your gaze on him next. "I don't know why you're laughing, dolphin boy."

Bucky immediately shuts up and Steve shakily grins before addressing the team. "Okay! Now that we've all been introduced, lets get inside before Y/N starts a war she can't finish."

Morgan and JJ are the only two to follow after Steve, Bucky, and Clint. Emily and Garcia remain with you and Spencer, and both females look to you with pleading eyes.

"Please tell me how four innocuous words got two supersoldiers to blush like that?" Garcia asks, Emily nodding along with her. "I need to know!"

"Sorry, girls," you tell them. "Those stories get out and I'm dead meat."

The both of them grumble about not getting answers, but move on without fuss. Before you can follow, however, Spencer steps closer to you. "You won't even tell me?" He asks, voice quiet.

You huff. "You already know."

Spencer's answering smile is enough to make you roll your eyes and he's quick to keep pace with you as you enter the building. There are numerous people milling about, but since it's late most of the trainees are in bed. Every piece of furniture and fixture still seems brand spanking new, so you don't blame the BAU team looking around in awe.

Heading into the chosen office, you lead Spencer inside before catching Steve's attention. "I'm gonna let you guys get to work. I'll be setting up in my room if anyone needs me."

No one objects, so after taking your bag from Spencer you take your leave. You leisurely make your way towards the living quarters of the compound and find your room with ease. Opening the door, the familiarity of it brings a tired smile to your face. The lamps have been turned on, awaiting your arrival, and even the TV has been turned on with its volume on low. The walls and bedding is the same as everyone else has, but you know it's your room because of the personal pictures on the dresser and bedside tables.

Since you're going to be staying until the case is over and then probably a couple days more after, you decide to put your clothes in the dresser rather than leave it in your bag for the entire time. After that's done and you've switched your TV to a movie you like, you pick out a standard set of black sleep pants and a blue/gray shirt that every trainee at the compound wears to bed so you can shower before crawling into bed yourself.

You're grateful for the private bathroom and even more grateful to see the products you use already waiting for you. You turn on the water to the shower, grab a towel from the bathroom closet and set it on the counter along with your change of clothes before you start to strip.

You keep your hair in a topknot as you shower since you had washed it earlier that morning, so your shower is over within ten minutes. Then by the time you're dried off and dressed in fresh clothes, and your teeth are brushed, you exit the bathroom.

Stepping into your room, you startle at the sight of Spencer sitting on the small cushioned bench at the foot of your bed. He's staring up at the moving playing, the corner of his lips quirked up in amusement. But at your small gasp, he looks towards you, lips spreading into a fond smile.

"Captain Rogers said it was okay that I wait for you. I don't mean to intrude."

"Spence," you huff a laugh and then continue on towards your bed, "we have keys to each other's apartments and sometimes barge in without warning. I think you waiting in here is more than okay."

"Just needed to make sure," he says, "what with this being a new place and all."

"Mhmm." You sit on the edge of the bed that's right behind the bench, putting your feet on the cushion beside Spencer and practically hug your knees as you stare at him. "How did everyone settle in?"

"E-Everyone's good." Spencer turns sideways, grinning up at you. "We got our own rooms here so we don't have to be back and forth from a hotel. When we left, Garcia was being introduced to the holographic tables and now I don't think she's going to sleep tonight."

You chuckle. "I knew she'd fall prey to all the pretty tech here." He chuckles along with you. "And how did everyone take the news to hearing the details about the case?"

"They're taking it very personally," Spencer tells you. "Mr. Barton even asked to stay on as a consultant. He and agent Romanoff are not very happy."

"Well they might not be as smart as you, Doc, but I think they're going to be a big help. You guys will be out of here in no time with the bad guy in cuffs."

"Is that so?" He muses. You grin and nod. "And if we're out of here in no time, are we still waiting until you go home for that discussion we still need to have?"

"We can table the discussion," you say, "but I really need to do this before I chicken out."

"Do what?"

Without thinking too much more about it, you reach out to cradle Spencer's jaw in the palms of your hands. You bring his face closer to yours, pausing with barely an inch between your lips. It seems he's held his breath in surprise, but when he notices you're waiting for some sort of unspoken permission it's him who closes the gap.

There's nothing heated or rushed about the kiss- it merely being a chaste kiss of several little pecks before he catches your bottom lip between his teeth. You smile, your lip popping free from where it stretches, and you giggle as he leans up to chase your lips.

"Ahem." The interruption causes you to jerk back from Spencer, eyes wide when you catch sight of Bucky leaning against your door jamb and looking quite smug. "Hope I'm not interrupting." You groan, laying your forehead on Spencer's shoulder while he quietly snorts. "So with this new development, does this mean our threesome will now be a foursome?"

You can't help but laugh and sit straight once more so you can see your friend. Unfortunately, the question actually gives you pause and there's a split second where you actually give it thought. But in the next moment your nose wrinkles and you shake your head. "What? No!"

He points at you, eyes gleaming. "You paused! You paused which means that no just turned into a maybe. I'm gonna go tell Stevie we're back in the game!"

"James!" Spencer finally laughs and you groan again when Bucky pushes off the door jamb, whistling as he walks away. "I hate my friends."

"Just wait until Morgan finds out. It'll be worse." Spencer chuckles as you sigh, and he gets up before walking around to the side of your bed. He places his palms down on the mattress, leaning over you to kiss you once more. "I'm gonna go to my room before Sergeant Barnes brings back reinforcements."

"Okay. I'll probably see you around the compound, but I'll do my best to stay out of your hair while you're looking for your unsub."

"Are we still talking after?"

"Of course. Well we can either talk or order in some Chinese and hole up in one of our apartments for a weekend. Your call."

"I like the second option," he says.

"I figured you would." You kiss him one last time and then push against his chest. "Now go. We'll figure things out soon."

[fandomficsnstuff]

Little Dragon - Part 13

Summary: You were a child slave of Meereen, when one day a silver haired woman sets you free. Though your master isn’t too keen on letting you go, and Daenerys took personal action to see you freed and taken care of.

(Warnings: talks of former slavery, time skips and it’s a bit fast forwarded, Jorah’s death, lots of angst I think, let me know if I missed anything, stay safe out there ya’ll!)

High Valyrian is in cursive

And Dothraki in bold

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You kept your head down as you rode on your horse, a fairly new experience for you, but it was similar to riding Rhaegal, just smaller, less scaly and less windy, you had reigns to hold onto, and a saddle to sit in. You were broken out of your train of thought as you heard your name called, turning your head to see none other than Jon Snow, giving you a nervous glance “hello” he said awkwardly, making you look ahead, spotting Daenerys talking with Missandei, before turning back to him “Lord Snow, can I help you with something?” he grimaced a bit, but still gave you a smile “if it’s alright, I would prefer if you didn’t call me Lord” you nodded “forgive me, I don’t know what to call you then. All these… customs are new to me, I have only lived with them for a few years now” Jon frowned at your words “how long then?” you shrugged as you looked ahead again “around five, I was ten when our Queen Daenerys found me” you smiled at the memory, glancing at Jon who only gave you a look that silently asked you to explain further.

“You see, I was a slave, in Mereen,” Jon immediately frowned “but you were a child?” he sounded disturbed, and it brought a tiny sense of envy, envy that he didn’t grow up with such horrible things “yes, though that didn’t concern my former master. I remember the day that Daenerys liberated Mereen, I remember seeing her silver hair in the street as she walked with the freed children, but I was still a slave. My master had let his other slaves go but not me, he kept me locked up in his small pyramid… Daenerys saw me watching her in the window, so she waved at me. I remember being so scared of my master that I looked over my shoulder before I waved back, I was so scared of how many beatings I would get if he caught me, but he didn’t, anyway, I must have leaned over the edge of the window, because she saw my collar. I remember how angry she looked as she walked into the house, she immediately had my master thrown in the cells, and then she saw me, on the steps, watching her again” you smiled warmly at the fond memory, a few tears building up in your eyes, but as you looked back at Jon, he seemed horrified and confused, looking away from you as he thought over your words, as if he didn’t know what to say “it’s alright, Jon Snow, I wouldn’t want your sympathy” he looked at you with confusion, something that made you smile ever so slightly, he didn’t know why you didn’t want sympathy.

“I don’t want sympathy because that is not why Daenerys took me in as her own, at least I’d like to believe it wasn’t. Yes, she felt bad for me, but I remember seeing those purple eyes of hers… I remember how safe I felt. It was only later that I learnt of Rhaego. Perhaps she saw in me what she had lost, or maybe it really was just sympathy, whatever it was, I no longer wear a collar, my body no longer bears bruises except for those I earned in training. Daenerys may not have carried me, but she is my mother. That is why I do not want sympathy, Jon Snow, because I no longer need it, I am no longer in a position where it keeps me alive” you finished, speeding up your horse to join Daenerys and Missandei, leaving behind a sympathetic, but understanding Jon Snow.

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Your lips slightly parted in awe as you neared Winterfell, you felt as though the only grounding force that told you it wasn’t a dream was Rhaegal and Drogon above you, their roars and the sound of their wings let you know you were wide awake, and you finally turned to Ezzo, smiling amazed at him before looking back to Winterfell. You had read about it in Mereen, and you remembered how out of all of the cities, you wanted to see Winterfell the most, and here you were, approaching it slowly as people of the north watched you ride by. You felt Ezzo’s hand gently nudge your knee, making you look at him as he gave you a smile “what?” you asked as he just looked at you, he shrugged and just kept smiling “just wanted to look at you” you blushed at his words, the colour of you (Y/S/C) cheeks flushing red, and you looked away, much to Ezzo’s dismay, he thought it looked beautiful with your (Y/E/C) eyes. You shook your head, almost as if you tried to shake off the blush on your cheeks, but you couldn’t shake off the smile that graced your lips “I’ve read a lot about Winterfell, it was built so long ago, it’s said to be built over there natural hot springs, so even though it’s snowing, the castle is much warmer than it looks” you looked back to Ezzo, only to find him already looking at you, and you refrained from saying anything, just enjoying the soft look he gave you as you looked back to Winterfell.

You marvelled at how big it actually was, and Daenerys, upon seeing your face, couldn’t help the smile that found it’s way to her lips.

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You sat tense by Daenerys’ side, something she had noticed long ago. You were cold, colder than before. When you read about the hot springs under Winterfell, you had hoped it would have given more of an impact, but here you were, willing yourself to stop shaking, while your mother sat quite comfortably, since she was a Targaryen. Your eyes scanned the crowd as a way to distract yourself, and you noticed how everyone seemed to love Jon, everyone knew him, adored him, admired him, and you could see, out the corner of your eyes, Daenerys’ smile wavering, she noticed as well. Daenerys was so used to being loved back in Essos, in Essos she was the Breaker of Chains, the Unburnt, the Mother of Dragons, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, she brought wonder and awe to people’s lives as she entered them, but here, here she was the foreign queen who their king had knelt to, the daughter of a madman, leader of an army of savages, and you imagined how much it must hurt her, so turning to her you gently nudged her, giving you her attention, and you knew the smile she put on her lips were fake, it was forced and stretched, like a piece of leather being forced over shapes it wasn’t meant to embrace.

You got up, pulled your new arakh out from behind your back and sat back down, your whole body facing her as you showed it to her “Ezzo gave it to me” you let her hold it and study it, watching her smile fade as realization struck her “your name day…” your own smile fell, you hadn’t meant to force it upon her, she was busy, it was a time of war, you understood how she could forget it, so you quickly shook your head “Mhysa I-... I didn’t mean it like that I just… wanted to show you… he carved the handle himself and-”

“I’m so sorry, Little Dragon” she looked heartbroken and you quickly shook your head again, reaching out for her hands “no, no Mhysa, please don’t be, we’re at war, I nearly forgot it myself, as have Missandei, please don’t feel bad. We’re all busy, you most of all, and after Viserion-” you stopped yourself there, knowing you’d get nowhere with her, and mentioning Viserion would only bring the both of you pain, you could already feel the tears building up in your eyes “I will do my best to correct this, I swear, (Y/N)” you sighed, taking back you anakh, putting it on the table, leaning over and hugging her “you don’t have to, just be happy” you whispered the last bit, feeling her arms finally wrap around you to embrace you as well. Once you parted you saw how sad she still was, which made you feel a guilty, you hadn’t meant to force it upon her, you heard her give a short sigh, turning back to look at the different people, studying them and how they loved Jon Snow, you followed her gaze, and you couldn’t help moving your hand down to gently grasp hers, she was so warm compared to you, her Targaryen blood had fire running through her veins “you are so cold, are you freezing?” you turned to look at her concerned expression, making you smile slightly “no, no I’m just cold. Mhysa, you’re a Targaryen, you have fire in your veins” you giggled slightly, and she joined you, briefly, before looking back over the the northerners “they’ll love you, you know, they’re just scared, perhaps even a bit betrayed, they trusted their king to never kneel again and then he did it, they’re just angry, but I don't blame them, who wouldn’t be in this cold?” you whispered the last bit to her, making her grin and do her best to hold in a laugh that you knew wanted to tear it’s way out of her and make itself known to everyone in the room, a thought that kept you warmer than the fires your brother’s breathed.

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You frowned as you stared at her in disbelief, taking in her words, each time you tried to decipher it a new frown appeared on your forehead “but-...” you leaned back in your chair, your gaze off to the side, not looking at anything in particular. You finally looked back at Daenerys, seeing her being torn between worlds as well. You leaned forward, gently grasping her hand in yours “who knows, Mhysa?” she swallowed the lump in her throat before speaking up “his brother, Bran, Samwell Tarly, and he’s going to tell his sisters” you frowned at her last statement “but I thought he loved you?” at yours words Daenerys finally let a tear roll down her cheek, all her life she had believed she was the true heir to Westeros, and now, now all of the sudden she wasn’t, the goal she had worked her way towards her whole life was gone, snuffed out, like a candle in a storm. You sighed heavily and got up “and he says he doesn’t want the throne?” you looked out a window before back to Daenerys, seeing her nod briefly and weakly, making you sigh again “then that’s that, Mhysa, he doesn’t want it, you are the heir to the Seven Kingdoms, you are the Queen of Westeros, there is nothing else to it” you kneeled down in front of her, you knew how much this meant to her.

She gently shook her head “it doesn’t matter what he wants… he’s the rightful heir and the people-”

“No! Mhysa… you’ve worked towards this your entire life! He doesn’t want the throne, they can’t force him upon it, can they? I-... I know you love him… I know you haven’t said so but, the way you look at him, and the way he looks at you, he loves you as well, I’m not-... experienced in love but, you have to at least trust that, right?” Daenerys sighed and looked at you, raising a hand to gently hold your cheek, you leaned into her touch and she smiled at the gesture “my sweet little dragon” she whispered, leaning over and placing a kiss on your forehead, her eyes closed as yet another tear fell from them.

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You glared at your mother as she looked at you with a pleading look “I am not going into the crypt, I want to fight!” Daenerys sighed, you two had been at it for almost an hour now “(Y/N) there is nothing to discuss, please, my little dragon, do as I say. You have a responsibility, you’re the heir to the throne, my ONLY heir, please, I can’t let anything happen to you” you sighed as she used your nickname in Valyrian, mulling over her words before finally giving a weak nod, making Daenerys close her eyes in pure relief. You sighed heavily as you walked down the steps, mumbling annoyed, making Sansa frown as she studied you, looking down at Tyrion, who sighed “she wants to fight, a Dothraki has been teaching her for months now. I think she’s scared,” he whispered the last part, making Sansa lean in as he continued “I think she’s scared of losing yet another brother, or perhaps even her mother, she thinks that somehow if she fights with her, she could prevent it” Sansa frowned even more “but the dragons are not her brothers” Tyrion shrugged “she has grown up around them for the last five years, whenever she was sad and Missandei or Daenerys wasn’t around, the dragons comforted her, I’ve heard stories of how they flew up on her balcony and came close to her, let her lay up against them and cry. When they were locked in the pyramid, she visited them every day, Rhaegal was her dragon, and now Jon Snow is riding him, she may not be a Targaryen, but she understands those dragons, almost as well as their mother, so try to tell her, once a little girl, lost and afraid of the world, protected and cared for by these dragons and their mother, that they are not her family. She already lost one brother, forgive me, Lady Stark, but I do believe you can understand how she feels” Tyrion ended, looking back at you as Missandei sat down next to you, talking with you quietly.

Sansa watched you with sympathy now, she understood what it was like to lose family, and while she couldn’t see how you saw dragons as family, she could understand the bond and the grief you must have felt when Viserion died, especially now that it was known that he had joined the Night King as an undead dragon, no longer the brother you knew.

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You stared at the piles upon piles of dead bodies, blood covering your face, your akanh in your hand, a cut on your hand and leg, still bleeding, your eyes widening as you saw a white figure in the distance leaning over someone, crying. It was nearly dawn, the Night King was dead and so was his army. Your feet took off before you even knew it, you barely felt the wound on your leg as you ran across the body littered field, you fell to your knees, you arakh long forgotten as you stared at the body in Daenerys’ arms. You breathed heavily as you just stared at his pale skin, the blood splattered across his face and armor, and the small drops of tears from your mother’s eyes. You gently shook your head as you held your breath, at any moment he would wake up, right? He would wake up, let you know that he was alright, he was okay, he was wounded but alive, right? You let out a whimper as none of that happened, he stayed still and pale, and you leaned over his breastplate, resting your head on it, not caring about the blood smearing onto your forehead. You let a sob escape your lips, only one, you told yourself, but it was followed by another, and another, and another, and before you knew it you were sobbing against the cold, hard metal covering his chest.

You looked up at Daenerys to see her crying as well, holding Joarh close and you couldn’t help but lean down and hug his stiff form, your arms around his neck as you sobbed against his throat, silently begging him to wake up, and when that didn’t work you tried verbally “wake up, please Ser Jorah, please, please wake up, please no, no, no, no! Wake up!” you hadn’t even noticed how you had begun to speak Valyrian, it was your native tongue after all, even though Jorah never understood it. You shook him as hard as you could, tears streaming down your face as you shook your head once more, you could barely breathe, Jorah had been the one to cut off your collar, he had been the one you had talked the most with, even though none of you understood each other back then. You leaned against Daenerys’ shoulder as you both cried, tears streaming down your faces as you continued to hold the old knight.

You don’t know how long you stayed like that, clinging to his corpse and Daenerys’ side as you cried over his body, praying that somehow he would wake up, somehow his eyes would open, or he would cough, say something, anything. But nothing happened, and nothing ever would, he was dead, cold and stiff, buried in metal as he laid in the cold snow, blood surrounding him, some of it his own, some of it not, that thought chilled you to the bone more than any wind ever could, he was bathed in blood, some not his own, it made you sick, and you felt the urge to throw up, leaning away quickly and throwing up over the side, making sure none of it touched Jorah or your mother. Afterwards you groaned, tears still streaming down your face as you glanced at Ser Jorah, another sob forcing it’s way through your body and out your mouth as you yet again fell to Daenerys’ side, holding Jorah. You felt Daenerys’ hand slowly place itself on your back as you sobbed, her own cries still spilling from her lips as you both just held him, not caring who watched or who was nearby.

[donutloverxo]

The proposition

@sweater-daddiesdumbdork asked for "hmm. Gentle fluff or smut, can be both. Whatever your in the mood for babes. Long or short as you would like." Ok I know the story doesn't really fit the gif or the request but I love it so much🥺🥺

Summary - Wilford has a proposition for you and Curtis.

Warnings - smut, virgin reader, blood/cum play, dark themes, technically non con/dub con since it is coercion

Pairing - Curtis Everett x reader

Word count - 3.5k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

You looked at the wooden board contemplating your next move. You had gotten somewhat better at playing, after practicing for so many years. But you still weren’t nearly as good as Wilford.

“Check” You warned and grinned as you trapped his king with your knight.

“Hm” he hummed staring off into the distance. He was really out of it throughout the game.

“Is something wrong?” You spoke casually and felt a shiver go down your spine. Suddenly on edge again.

You often forgot that you’re supposed to hate him. After everything he’s done to so many people, even if he was somewhat kind to you, he was far from a good person.

You never even knew about the state of the tail section. Not until the revolution that happened months ago. Their conditions had gotten considerably better. But they and their leader were still struggling and fighting for their rights.

“Well if you really want to know...” He paused chewing on his finger while he supported the weight of his head with his palm. “There’s Curtis. He’s clearly not happy. He’s making it difficult for me to mould him into a perfect heir.”

“Oh” You let out. The disdain Curtis held for Wilford was really obvious. You had never spoken to him but you accompanied Wilford to several of his meetings. “Maybe you can meet him in the middle? Give into his needs a bit?” You said your voice strained. You didn’t need him second guessing your loyalty.

“I’ve been more than generous with him.” He scoffed “We have to maintain equilibrium. Perfect balance.” He went on his usual lecture taking out your knight with his queen “If only you were a bit smarter... and a man I wouldn’t even need Curtis.” He stated his eyes staring at the board.

“I’m sorry.” You hung your head in shame. Ashamed that you couldn’t be enough to satisfy him, be of any use to him. And that you craved his approval in the first place.

“At the end of the day” He said finally looking at you “How devoted are you? How far would you go for me?” He asked and looked at you expectedly.

“I – I’ll do anything for you sir. You know that.” You stammered. He had yet to ask you to do any tasks for him. Expect for keeping him company. You doubted he'd ask for anything too extreme from you. Not when he had so many skilled people do the job for him.

“That’s all I needed to hear.” He said giving you a chillingly warm smile that highlighted the wrinkles around his eyes.

***

Curtis struggled to not punch a hole into a wall to let the anger bubbling inside him out. Every time Wilford called him up to the ‘sacred engine’ it was for something incredibly stupid.

Like fucking tea parties with macaroons or mini sandwiches. The pompous ass called himself ‘A man of taste. That’s how I know you’re special.’

Now Curtis would have to eat those ridiculous cookies or sliders or whatever he serves him and listen to his bullshit.

But he knew that had no right to complain. This was a small price to pay for all the work he had been doing to help HIS people.

They were given five more sections of the train. Proper food and clean water. It was acceptable. But it still wasn’t enough.

He had his own spacious room since he’s 'one of the big guys now'. He felt guilty living in it. To have clean water to shower everyday, have more than enough food to keep him full.

It had been 17 years since he was alone in a room. With his thoughts. Now he got to sleep on his plush mattress all by himself. It should feel good. But he was guilty. He wouldn’t rest until his people got the same privileges. No matter how long it takes.

Wilford agreed to his terms, and negotiated with him for hours, when he had him over a barrel. It was either that or Curtis blows up the train.

The first few weeks were rough. He felt completely hopeless and crushed. Knowing from then on that he could only trust himself in this dog eats dog world. The people he did love and care for were now all dead.

So he did what he had been doing for the past two decades. Threw himself into work and planning with a clear goal in mind.

He finally reached his destination finding Wilford waiting for him. Welcoming him with a smile.

“Why don’t you sit down for a while?” He asked when Curtis merely stood there glaring at him.

“Can we make this quick.” He snapped.

“Why do you have places to be?” Wilford laughed calling for you to come out of the corner. Where you usually stood and watched his meetings take place. He introduced you to Curtis “But you must know her by now.” He inquired raising a grey eyebrow at him.

“Yeah.” Curtis gave you a small nod glaring at you as if he was ready to cut you up then and there. You had no idea why he seemed more angry with you than he did with Wilford.

“Well you’ve been on edge. And you know men have needs...” He trailed off shrugging “You can have her as your own. You’ll need an heir soon enough.” He continued.

Leaving you completely stunned. He wanted to sell you off as if you were a breeding mare.

When your father ‘gave' you to Wilford ,just over 4 years ago, you thought you’d have to do that with him. Keep him satisfied like the prostitutes in section 5 do.

But you were surprised to find that Wilford never really cared much for sex. Not with you or anyone else. He decided to ‘keep' you even went far as to call you a pet. Someone adorably stupid he liked to teach things and impart his wisdom to.

The thought of being with Curtis in that way wasn’t repulsive, not as much as it was with Wilford, but you were sure that he’d hurt you. That he hated your guts.

“That won’t be necessary.” Curtis stated “is that all?” He said completely done with this whole situation. And needing to get out of this place that just stinks of Wilford.

“Now now what’s the rush? Is she not enough? I thought you’d like someone simpler or I would’ve called for a professional.” To which Curtis shook his head dryly laughing at the ridiculous proposition. “Do you have someone else in mind? Someone in the tail section? No one there would be healthy enough to bare a child.”

To which Curtis gritted his teeth, clenching his jaw.

He did you a once over. He could see your curvy and plump figure even through your baggy clothes. That’s what he hated about you the most. The fact that he was so attracted to you. And that you always looked so goddamn irresistible.

“I don’t need a whore.” He spit.

“How about you watch your language and your tone” Wilford frowned “She won’t be a whore. She’ll be the mother of your children. You can marry her if you want to. Not that it would mean anything.” Wilford paused letting him process his words. “I’ll tell you what. You can have any woman you want.”

“How about no?” He snarked even though he knew better.

“I wasn’t really asking.” he sighed. Irritated at just how annoyingly stubborn Curtis could be. “You do this and maybe I’ll be more open to negotiating.”

Curtis shook his head in disbelief and looked at you. You had been quiet the entire time. Just like you always are. He had never heard your voice. He would certainly remember it if he did.

“And you’re okay with this?” He asked you.

Your eyes darted back and forth between both of them. “Ye – yes” You stammered. Feeling as if you were suddenly put on the spot. You didn’t really have much of a choice.

“Does tonight sound good to you?” Wilford asked you and you gave him a small nod. “Well then you should go on and get ready sweetheart” He cooed at you softly and you followed. Looking at Curtis one last time before going back to your room.

“Is this really necessary?” Curtis asked as he watched you leave.

“You’re still in your prime. This is the best time to have a baby that’d healthy. You know what they said better late.”

Curtis stayed for a bit discussing these ‘negotiations' Wilford had promised. But he was sure of one thing. No way in hell is he fucking a front sectioner. Let alone have a kid with one. He wouldn’t be caught dead trying to bring a child in this fucked up world.

You seemed impressionable. He could easily convince you to lie.

***

Your roommate Laura helped you pick out a dress for the night. Giving you some pointers on how to please men.

“And don’t forget to remind him to pull out.” She warned. Knowing the penalty for birthing more than one baby, in most cases, is very high. “Oh yeah you wouldn’t need to do that...” She trailed off feeling sympathy for you “Then I’ve heard that you should keep his cum in you for as long as you can. Let gravity do the work.”

You zoned her out. Needing her to stop talking because you were anxious enough.

“Aren’t you nervous though? To be a mom? I’d be terrified.”

Terrified. Yeah that’s what you should be. But you felt eerily calm. “I’m taking it one day at a time. Or I’d go crazy.” You muttered out in response to her.

Your steps were slow as you made your way to Curtis. What happens if he finds you lacking? Or so repulsive that he can’t even get it up. Would Wilford forgive you. How grave would his punishment even be.

You found yourself worrying more for Curtis. Wilford still held a soft spot for you. But as much as he claimed to be smitten by Curtis, it was clear that he held a bias. Like most front sectioners did against the tail Enders.

You knocked on his door before letting yourself in. Looking around for him. His room was, as you expected, much larger than yours. It held a king bed in the middle of it, unlike your twin beds. It was much cleaner and organised as well.

Your eyes fell on an old worn out paper which held what looked like a charcoal drawing. You held it up studying it.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You jumped as you heard him growl. You turned around to see him standing just a few feet away from you, dressed only with a towel hanging low on his hips.

“Uh I’m here for... the...you know...” What the hell were you supposed to call it? Babymaking?

“We won’t be doing that. You will sit there, quietly, for a few hours and leave.” He ordered looking through his dressed for his clothes.

Even though water was abundant to him now, he wasn’t going to be wasteful with it. So he only showered in the evenings. To wash the whole day off of him.

Maybe a part of him knew you’d be here. And wanted to look presentable to him. Which, he knew, was stupid. You’d never see him that way. And he didn’t need to work to impress someone like you.

“We can’t do that.” You mumbled taking in his naked torso. His shoulders were broad and he And you were pleasantly surprised to see just how huge he was.

“Why?” He asked pulling a shirt and some pants out. He looked back at you expecting an answer.

“He – a doctor will be examining me tomorrow. They’ll probably figure it out.” You said hugging yourself to make yourself small. Averting your gaze to avoid the intensity of his eyes.

“Fine then.” He huffed. He looked through the dresser to search for the lotion that came with the room. He could probably use it as lube, get it over with. It wouldn’t be too hard for him to do it and he wasn’t really looking to hurt you either. “Lay down on the bed” He instructed handing you the bottle as you settled on top of his mattress.

He opened his mouth about to tell you to apply it between your legs but then “I’ve never done this before you know. Just thought you should know.” You confessed still unable to look him in the eye.

“What? That’s not possible.” He frowned at you “Aren’t you supposed to be Wilfords whore?” He snapped.

Which set you off. This was the second time today he had called you a whore. “You really think you have the moral high ground to call me that?” you swallowed as he looked taken aback by your words. “I don’t know what I am to Wilford. What I do know is – if we don’t do as he says we’ll have to pay.”

“I’ll take my chances.” He scoffed.

“Don’t. You’ll regret it.” You said gravely. Shedding off your clothes. There was no point in prolonging it. “Can we turn the lights off?” You asked.

“No.” He let out as he looked at your dress. Bunched up around your waist. Giving him a generous look at your thick thighs.

He loosened his towel a bit as he felt himself harden at just the thought of you naked.

He hadn’t been with a woman in decades. Too afraid to bring a child in this world. There were offers from many to suck him off. But he was never particularly interested. He took care of himself as hastily and as quietly as he could, in his bunk late at night.

Despite everything, how lucky he was right now to have the things he had, how far he had come, he had also suffered a lot. Gave up a lot. Maybe he deserved something he took just for himself.

He dropped his towel onto the floor, revealing his erection to you. He climbed on the bed and crawled to you.

You stared at his long length, how scary and angry it looked pressed hard against this taut abs. “I uh what do I do with this?” You asked looking at the lotion.

“Forget about it.” He tossed the bottle away and worked on rolling your panties down your legs.

You shivered as cold air touched your exposed core. “Oh” You gasped as you felt his fingers nudge your warm folds.

“Off with this too.” He demanded taking your dress off your head.

You quickly brought your hands up to cover your exposed chest. Shifting in your place. The reality of the situation suddenly hit you. This was really happening. It was all too quick. There wasn’t nearly enough time for you to process your emotions.

He pushed you on your back and quickly settled between your legs. Smelling a whiff of your arousal. He knew he was being hasty. If he wasn’t patient it would be over too soon. But he was so damn hard he felt as he’d bust right then and there. He rolled his hips into the mattress to relieve some of the pressure from his groins.

He groaned at the sight of your naked body above him. Your soft stomach, your breast laid flat as your chest heaved. He dove in for a taste. Pleased with just how wet you already were and at the way you squirmed. He almost let himself believe that you wanted him. That you were so aroused just for him.

But he knew better than to believe that. It was far from the truth. You were just as forced into this situation as he was. He was just trying to make the best of it.

Before he could eat you properly you lightly pushed at his head. “Wait.” Your voice scratchy. You propped yourself on your elbows so you could look at him “I don’t... want it to hurt. Please.” You pleaded.

“That depends on how much you cooperate.” He threatened and you laid back. You whimpered as he sucked your clit, wrapping his mouth around it. He pushed a finger inside you and then another. Holding a hand flat on your stomach to stop you from moving. It was different than when you played with yourself with your fingers.

You cried out loud for the whole train to hear when he rolled your bundle of nerves between his fingers while fucking you with his tongue. You came on his tongue. Feeling more intense than you had ever before.

He lapped up everything you gave him. Not wanting to waste a single drop. He trailed kisses up your nipping just under your breasts and wrapping his lips around one dark hard bud. He sucked it harshly gently pulling on your other nipple, just to get a reaction out of you. You whimpered cradling his head close to your chest.

All too soon he released your nipple and supported his weight on his forearms to look down at you.

You looked so perfectly dazed. Staring at him hazily through your hooded eyes. Your lips bruised and bleeding. Were you biting them so hard to keep, and fail, from making those singular noises?

He couldn’t help it. He knew he’d regret it the second he thought of it. But he needed to know what your mouth tasted like. He nibbled on your bottom lip for a bit before capturing your lips for a kiss.

His first one as far as he can remember. He wondered if he was your first kiss too. He tilted his head to get an angle that would allow him to explore your mouth the best. Moaning into it he brought his hands up to cradle your face. Somehow kissing your mouth felt more intimate than kissing your cunt.

He finally pulled away so you could both breathe. He took in a few deep breathes before nudging your lips with his tip, before seething himself into you.

He was deliberately slow. Drawing out the pleasure for both of you because he didn’t want to hurt you. Far from it. He wanted you to scream his name just like you were minutes before.

He groaned into your ear as he bottomed out. Giving you all the time you needed to adjust to his length. He pulled your earlobe between his teeth. Snaking a hand beneath your hips he raised them so he could thrust deeper inside you.

You mewled and moaned under him, chanting his name as if it was a prayer, as he slowly rutted into you. He wondered, if it was because of him. Or it wouldn’t really make much of a difference to you of it was some front sectioners cock instead of his.

Your walls were so snug and tight around him. He knew he wouldn’t last long. He tried to think of all the work he had to do, hell even thought of Wilford just to hold off.

But he couldn’t. Not with the way you were squeezing him. He quickly pulled out and stroked himself to completion. Ropes of his cum painted your stomach. He felt strangely possessive at that. As if he marked you as his own.

He sat up on his knees, looking down at you and stroking your thighs, he admire his work.

“What did you do?” You asked as you felt his warm spend on your stomach. It had been feeling so good for you, you were almost at the edge when he pulled out. You knew he was supposed to finish inside you.

He didn’t bother to answer you before his broad shoulders nudged the inside of your thighs to fit him. He lapped up at your cunt again. Determined to bring you off at least once more. He moaned at the tangy taste of your blood, and your juices mixed with his.

It didn’t take long for him to work up your sensitive and overworked folds and cunt. This orgasm was somehow more intense, if that was even possible.

Curtis settled beside you. Wiping his mouth off with his hand he turned off the light. He thought about asking you to go back to your room.

But then you curled up against his arm, wrapping your little hands around it. You settled your head in the crook of his neck. He would get up later to clean you both up later. Right now he just needed to commit this moment to memory. So he’d never forget it.

Tags will be in the reblog! If you want in on the taglist lemme know via dm/ask or click the link in the bio.

Yayyy I finally wrote for Curtis! Idk if there will be a part two to this. Snowpiercer is just too dark for a soft girl like me🥺🥺

Please note that my works are not to be reposted on any other website/blog. Reblogs are welcome though!

[haikyuulovercompany]

Hii! May I request a scenario for Kuroo and a character of your choice? Whoever you feel like writing. Could it be angsty? Their s/o has a very big, visible scar on their face, which they got when they were younger. They don't seem bothered by it unless someone asks for the details, in which case they get defensive. And when people who knew them before what happened go like, "You used to be so beautiful back then" they get insecure. Please feel free not to write it if it makes you uncomfortable♡

So, I was unable to make it really angsty... so i did more of a comfort piece that i hope that whoever feels a insecure on any degree, feels a little bit more loved... and since you let me choose one character, it was obviously my boyfriend Tendou ! Hope you enjoy (: 

-----

Tetsuro Kuroo

Meeting the family of a new partner was always nerve-wracking. For Kuroo it was, at least. He was spending the weekend at ______’s hometown ready to get to know better the person he had happened to fall in love with more than seven months ago. Kuro had met ______ on his second semester in college. It was supposed to be an early night for him. He was supposed to have a couple drinks and then leave. However, as soon as ______ had appeared, he decided he could stay a couple more minutes. They had happened to be friends with his friends, and it had been a coincidence for them to choose the same bar as them. Kuroo didn’t believe much in coincidences, and started to believe in fate. What could’ve been the odds? Those few minutes became a couple more hours, and he had ended up walking ______ to their dorm at five in the morning.

The chemistry had been spontaneous, and he hadn’t let them go ever since that day. He genuinely saw a future with ______, and giving their parents a good impression was in his best interest.

______ rubbed his arm reassuringly as they stepped out of the taxi. Kuroo took a look at the house, and breathed in. “It’ll be okay. They’re nice,” they said. He nodded, keeping his cool.

He followed them down the graveled path leading to the front door. ______ rang the bell a couple times, and flashed him another smile. He fixed his jacket as if there something he could do. They had hopped off from an airplane, and he looked exactly like that. His hair was slightly more disheveled than usual, and he was sure he didn’t smell that nice either. He hoped his personality could make up for it.

The door opened showing two shining smiles. ______ went straight for a hug. While their father hugged them, their mother pulled Kuroo inside the house. “It’s so good to meet you,” she said cheerfully. “He’s such a handsome boy, ______. Where did you find him?”

“Lost in the streets. Like a stray cat,” they joked. Their parents rolled their eyes at them.

“Well, lucky you,” their mother told ______, and winked an eye at Kuroo. “Go and get comfortable. Dinner is not ready yet.”

“Yes. I’m dying for a shower,” they claimed, heading for the stairs without saying anything more.

“Thank you very much,” Kuroo made sure to say, never losing his manners.

“Oh, it’s our pleasure. Go ahead.”

Kuro nodded, and shuffled a little on his place before joining ______ on the stairs. They chuckled at him and shook their head. Neither of them said anything else until they were in the safeness of the bedroom they were using for the weekend. It was ______’s childhood bedroom. Kuroo’s curiosity perked up. He chose the bookshelf first, inspecting what kind of books they had collected through their early years. “Do you want to take a shower first?” they asked, sitting next to their

“No, go ahead.”

“Okay. Knock if you need anything.”

They locked themselves on the bathroom leaving Kuroo alone in the room. He continued going through the shelves. It was easy to tell which books had been for school, and which others had been bought for a personal preference. He stumbled upon a couple of photo frames. Standing with ______ were a couple of people he had never seen—their friends from their old school most probably. The first one was from somewhen around high school. The second one was different for one special detail: there was no scar on ______ face. They were much younger than in the previous photo, way before the accident which caused the scar on their face. He continued inspecting the room, not putting much more attention to it. Once he was done, he laid down on the bed, and scrolled through his phone, waiting for his turn without a hurry. He was grateful he could rest a little after the trip.

Within half an hour both were ready. While they hadn’t made a big effort on their appearance since they were staying home for the rest of the day, Kuroo combed his hair anyway. He wouldn’t dare to go down to have dinner with his hair in a complete mess. “Looking fine,” ______ teased him.

He smirked. “I’m trying to give a good impression.”

“I see that, thank you.” They stood on the tip of their toes and kissed him on the cheek. It meant a lot to ______ to see Kuroo taking the trip seriously, and he knew this. It also meant a lot to him. He had been excited when ______ invited him to meet their parents. It was taking their relationship to a more formal ground, and he was in for it. He wanted nothing more than to solidify his commitment to their relationship.

______ exited the room first. He had never been a shy guy, but he preferred to stay behind and be cautious with his actions. No matter how much ______ and he were alike, their parents could be another story. It wouldn’t be the first time an apple fell too far from the tree.

As they approached the first floor, they heard a third voice. ______ frowned, immediately turning to see their boyfriend with a worried face. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

“That’s my aunt. She’s… kind of careless with what she says.” They huffed. “I didn’t know she was coming.”

“You parents probably told her you would be here and wanted to see you.”

“Yeah, probably. I wished they didn’t to be honest. Whatever she says don’t take it personal, okay?”

“No problem,” he assured her with a casual yet confident grin.

The table was set for five people, confirming ______. Their aunt was staying for dinner and they hoped she didn’t make things too awkward. She came into the room as soon as she heard the pair, a big smile spreading across her face. She hurried to their side, embracing one at a time in a tight hug, almost taking the air out of the two of them. Just like their mother had done, she complimented Kuroo on his looks. He pretended to be shy, but they knew he was enjoying all the attention deep inside.

They helped to bring the food to the table, falling into casual conversation. ______ relaxed. Their aunt seemed to be on her best behavior. No imprudent comment had been made yet. They weren’t worried about what Kuroo would think. They worried on how awkward the night could be turned thanks to her.

They were in the middle of their food when their aunt cleared her throat as she wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. “For how long have you two been together?”

“Eleven months to be exact,” Kuroo answered.

“Wow, almost a whole year. That’s so sweet,” ______’s mother commented, giving the two a tender look.

“It is, right?” Kuroo answered with a slight grin. They exchanged glances with him briefly. ______ held back their giggles. Kuroo could never turned off his confident personality. They would never admit it out loud, but they adored that part of him. Admitting out loud would cause far more teasing from his part.

“You’re such a cute couple,” their aunt followed. “Had they showed you pictures of ______ before the scar? They used to be so beautiful back then.”

______ stopped chewing right then and there. It had taken them years to feel at ease with the scar across their cheek. It had been years of trying to cover it, failing, and having to accept it. Their parents stayed quite—everyone was trying to realize what to say next. “I need something to drink.” They stood up, quickly disappearing into the kitchen.

Kuroo cleared his throat and with a polite tone said, “No, actually no. I don’t there’s need to, to be honest.” ______ eyed him.

“I mean, they’re still as pretty as ever of course,” the aunt continued, a little bit ashamed of her comment. She wasn’t getting any sympathy, though.

“For sure, they’re a beauty,” Kuroo stated before standing up and following ______ into the kitchen, knowing well what they must be feeling. ______ was resting on the counter with their eyes on the floor. A shiny tear hung on their chin. Kuroo silently and swiftly approached them, swiping the tear off from their chin. “Are you okay?”

“I told you she was kind of careless,” they murmured, avoiding to meet his eyes.

“But she is wrong. I don’t think you were more beautiful than now.”

“I know that’s not true.”

“I say is subjective,” he offered.

They finally looked at him, a soft frown on their faces due to the confusion. “She thinks you’re not, but I think you are.” He received no answer, and he concluded it was best to take it more seriously. He hugged them with the intentions of keeping them under his hold as much as they needed it. ______ hugged him back. That was what they needed. Unconditional love.

Five minutes later, they removed themselves, drying their face. “Is it too obvious that I cried?”

“No, don’t worry.” And he wasn’t lying. ______ had spilled a couple tears. They hadn’t been enough to swell her eyes.

They went back to the table together. Kuroo pulled the chair out for them, and then took his seat. The dining room was in complete silence. Their parents stared worried. _____ gave them a faint smile. It didn’t mean everything was okay. It meant they were handling it.

“So, if you have embarrassing pictures of ______ as a baby, I’m up for that,” Kuroo said out of the blue, surprising everyone. ______’s father laughed first. Kuroo slipped a hand under the table and rested it on their leg, giving it a soft squeeze.

“We have many,” their mother assured him.

“I’m impatient,” Kuroo declared.

The tension slowly dissipated. ______ looked at their aunt. She had her eyes on her food, and they could see the shame in their factions. ‘Good’ they thought. It was nothing against her, but she shouldn’t be meddling in their business like that. It was their scar, their story, and their decision. They had showed many pictures to Kuroo prior to the accident, but it had been in a moment of intimacy where they had felt comfortable to talk about it. And in an incredibly gracious way, Kuroo had shut the situation down. ______ smiled to themselves and continued eating as their parents now asked Kuroo about him a little bit more. They would make sure to thanked him properly later.

Satori Tendou

Meeting new people was always exciting for him. He was expectant to see what type of person they were or how fast he could read them. It was interesting to him. Meeting his new partner’s friends was turning out to be an interesting situation, to say the least.

______ stayed on the edge of their seat, trying to find when they could add something to the conversation. The other four people—the “friends”—wouldn’t let them say a word. They talked all over ______, and ignored when they managed to complete a sentence. It was clear they were dismissing them. Tendou had his eyebrows raised, wondering why ______ would consider these people their friends. He hadn’t tried to join. He was seeing enough for him to grow highly uninterested on the group of people. It meant something to ______ for him to be there, and that was the only reason why he was staying there.

“It is Tendou right?” one of the boys asked. He had a buzzcut and moved his tongue inside his mouth like he had crumbs stuck on his gums.

“Hmm-mmm,” he shortly responded, lazily tapping his fingers on the table.

“How did you meet ______?” a girl asked. They made it sound as if it was unbelievable for ______ to actually meet someone. He didn’t like the tone of their words. It had a mean undertone. He knew because he had used too to discourage someone on the court. He despised the idea they were trying to bring down ______ right in front of him—their boyfriend.

“At a party. He is my cousin’s friend,” they explained.

“Make sense. One day you suddenly had a boyfriend. It was supper random,” another boy pointed out. He had shaggy hair, and it wasn’t the type of messy that could be cute. The guy needed a haircut immediately.

“I guess,” they said, sounding a little bit more nervous. Tendou wasn’t participating at all in the conversation, and he was aware he was being rather quiet. He wasn’t comfortable with those people. It reminded him of elementary school. The vibe was similar, keeping him on the edge, expecting an insult at any moment.

And it did.

“Do you want to see ______ before they had the scar on their cheek?,” the same girl asked with eagerness, like she was ready to play her favorite game. Tendou felt them tensing under the arm he had kept across their shoulders. He could physically feel their emotional stress growing rapidly inside them.

“Not really,” he answered stoically. He squeezed their shoulder, and stood up from his sit at the pretty cafeteria they had met. “Come on, ______, we’re going to be late to have dinner with my parents.”

______ nodded, and got up quickly. They weren’t having dinner with anyone. It had been the first excuse that came to mind to leave the place. He wasn’t staying, and he wouldn’t leave ______ there. He had to get the two of them out of there before something bad happened—and he meant snapping at any of them, and god knew he could be vicious if tempted.

Tendou intertwined his hand with theirs, walking out of the establishment without looking back. They went down the street for a couple minutes before he heard the tiniest of weeps. He stopped on his tracks, and with one swift motion pulled them into his chest, wrapping his arms around. People moved around them as ______ cried under his shelter. Tendou felt his heart wrench. It had not only been humiliating for them, but that girl had touched the most sensitive nerve in them.

______ raised their head once they were able to stop crying. It had felt like a nightmare. Their scar wasn’t a joke or a toy they could use to entertain themselves. Tendou’s long fingers were soon on their face, rubbing their cheeks with the kindness they needed in that moment. “Are you better?”

They give a little tired grin. They loved Tendou didn’t expect them to simply be okay, but instead they hoped for them to feel better whenever those type of situations happened. “Just a little,” they admitted.

“I hate to say this but your friends suck.”

The little grin turned into a sad chuckle. “I know. But back in middle school they were the only people who wanted to hang around with me, so… I guess it was better than to be alone.”

“You don’t have to anymore, you know?” he asked rhetorically. “The older we get, the less it matters,” he finished as his finger went through the scar on their face. It was true. The older the people, the less noisy people were. There were adults were absolute assholes who had no sense of decency and would make the same tactless questions and comments, but they were just a few compared to a crowd of fourteen-year olds.

“Yeah, but it’s still hard.”

“It is, but we’re going to make it easier. I promise you.” He bent down giving them a quick peck on the forehead. “If you ask me, you’re the cutest thing around.”

They snorted, trying to hide the blush on their face. Tendou understood them from a deep part of himself—a unique type of understanding. ______ hugged him, nuzzling their nose on the crook of his neck. It was the place where they felt the most accepted… in his arms.

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

Schooling

A/N: hi anon! From what you’re requesting it’s pretty obvious that you’re struggling a grave bit with schooling and as someone who has been there (literally, I changed my major five times), I want to assure you that everything always falls into place the way it should be. I believe in you! 

Also, as i was posting this I remembered that I don’t know how schooling works in the USA so I just wrote it from a Belgian perspective. 

Summary: could u do a richie x reader where reader wants to be a musician but their parents are forcing them into sum hard uni course, but the readers getting awful grades and then accidentally applies to a random easy program instead of the hard one and freaks out tht her future ruined, so richie convinces the reader she doesn’t need to worry bc she’ll be a famous musician instead

High school was not a thriving environment for you. You had your friends, the losers club, who you adored and couldn’t imagine your life without, but you were also bullied relentlessly, and you weren’t fond of the studying part of the school dynamic. No one is, supposedly, but compared to Stan and Ben – both possessing the motivation and drive to put it in the effort, and Richie and Mike who were effortlessly smart, you felt lost.

The idea of college was the only thing holding you up, the only motivation to get through your high school years. That musical course you planned on taking was a bright light at the end of the tunnel. In hindsight’s, you accumulated way too much pressure on yourself for imagining college to be this amazing place where you would get to thrive in life. The reality was a lot more grim.

The first problems arose in choosing your major. Your friends had all zoned in on one – or were getting close to at least-, but you were clueless about what the right thing to do was. There were worlds apart between what you thought would truly bring you joy in life, and what your parents were manipulating you into choosing.

Your parents, at least when you’re younger, have the biggest influence on your view on the world and the way you see yourself fit in it. When your parents pushed you towards a biology degree, and kept at it for months, you agreed.

From day one, you knew it had been a mistake. You shared a few classes with Stan, and those all went over fine -because you had a friend around that you needed to stay strong for-, but the moment you had your first class, a deep feeling of dread settled inside you. Despite not enjoying high school like some might, at that moment you hoped for a miracle to turn back time.

Tests passed by in a flurry, and as each one got progressively worse, your mental health followed suit. You were caught in a visions cycle of bad grades and bad emotions, and it drained you so bad that anything that could potentially have anything to do with school, like emails, send you into a frenzy.

The inevitable happens on a Wednesday after school. You wasted a lot of time thinking of what could be, and winded up at the school that organized the musical course. On the home page of the sight, there had been a test titled: ‘is our schooling up your lane?’, and you, snorting with irony, took it to be coy. They asked a bunch of personal questions, and you didn’t think anything of it, until you received and email to state that you had started your admission to the school. The month long building tension snapped, and you started crying hysterically. You weren’t sure what you had done and if it was even anything to worry about, but everything got to be too much, and you wanted your best friend with you.

Richie arrived a mere ten minutes after your phone call, and let himself in to your bedroom where you were still crying on the bed. Thank god your parents weren’t home.

‘What’s up with you?’ Richie asked incredibly, sinking down on his back next to you on the bed. You appreciated the lack of fake sympathy and pity.

‘Same old,’ was the only thing you could come up with to say. You didn’t know if you had the energy to rehash everything again.

‘Your schooling again?’

‘It’s my schooling everyday Richie. It’s important.’

‘Is it as important as hanging out with me?’ It coaxes a laugh out of you, but the lighthearted moment is quickly squashed. You can’t shut off your kind and live in the moment. With everything you do, the reality slams on you, never allowing you to have a break.

‘Yes Richie. I know that school doesn’t matter to you, but it does to me. My parents will kill me if they find out I applied to this course. Help me.’

Your leg begins to bounce, a sign that your anxiety is taking over completely. Richie can recognize the signs, as he himself displays them often.

‘Calm down y/n, you’ll just follow the music program and became a musician. I’ll pay you to be my support act, and all of the losers will come to watch us. It’ll be fine.’

‘For you maybe, but my parents will kill me when they find out.’ It’s true. Before you enrolled in biology, you had already hinted at maybe following a music path, and your mom had shut it down faster then you could even finish your sentence.

Richie snorts. ‘Your parents are mad at you all the time. Who cares, in a few years you’ll be out of there and you won’t have to listen to them ever.’

‘But-‘

‘Y/N/N, come on’, Richie interrupts cheerfully. He throws one of his legs atop your to stop your leg from moving. ‘You’re stressing over nothing. If you can tell Bowers to fuck if you can do anything.’

‘Well Bowers was nothing, he’s just pathetic. This’, you empathizes ,‘is my future Richie.’ You sigh, completely disheartened. Your pc screen is lit up, and you notice a new email pop up from your new school. You can’t take it, why can’t you have a few moments to collect your thoughts?

‘What if I’m not good enough?’ You ask him quietly, sagging against Richie for support. It’s now that your true stress comes out. Your parents views are a problem, but if you were truly convinced that you could do it, you would go against their wishes anyway. ‘What if I do this, and I have to hear about how disrespectful I am for years, and it doesn’t pay off?’

Cruelly, Richie laughs. That’s weird. Richie is never fully serious, he always has a way to alter a situation into something cheerful, but he’ll never be intentionally rude.

‘Please? Not being good enough? You’re the best musician I’ve ever seen and heard.’

‘We live in Derry, that’s not saying much.’

‘I mean it. My second favorite thing is listening to you with your instrument, my favorite is still fucking Eddie’s mom though.’ A mom joke while you were debating over your major was not something you were aiming for, but hey, it’s Richie. Are you really surprised?

‘What do I do if I fail?’

‘You won’t. But if you do, you can always do that one year school thing right? You have the rest of your life to do the adult thing, why not choose your happiness now?’

It’s profound in a way Richie isn’t often -and in a way that people don’t credit him enough-. He has a hard time being serious, but you know that once he is, he always tells the truth. Maybe this time, he is too.

‘You truly believe that?’

‘It’s as true as my wang is long.’

‘Gross’, you protest, but his words light a fire under u. It gives you a whole new wave of confidence, a way to see things from a different perspective. Why wouldn’t you go for it and take the chance? Why should you be stuck doing something you take no pride or joy in. Your parents will be a problem, but this is not the life they have to life. They have made their own decisions, and now it’s time for you to take yours. Are you willing to do something for the rest of your life simply for your parents approval?

Another email filters in, one to confirm your decision to enroll in the new major. Richie intertwines your hands, offering up more strength to do what you have to. With one last encouraging smile, you nod to yourself, and press accept.

[kareofbears]

long lines and cold nights

“Sakamoto-san!” the voice of a gruff middle-aged man a few spots behind Akira yells out. Akira’s smile splits even wider, knowing what will happen next. “Is that the Akira you keep telling us about?”

———

Akira visits Ryuji at work and witnesses how he interacts with his customers.

read on ao3 or below the cut :)

Akira didn’t think that bread would be so popular during Christmas.

It’s evening, and every store in Tokyo seemed to be flashing with multicolored fairy lights. The roads have long since turned the snow to slush, but the sidewalk still had white flurries piled high on top of each other. No matter where anyone looks, there are shoppers lugging around gift bags and wearing thick mittens, all eager to hide away from the freezing temperatures and numbing fingers. Despite the hustle, there’s a collective attitude from everyone present that exudes a certain liveliness that’s only ever present during the holiday season.

He’s next in line to get into the bakery, a thick, bright-red scarf wrapped tight around his neck and hands clutching a heavy paper bag. The scent of baked goods wafts from where he’s standing, and it makes him salivate just a little. Akira’s been standing here for half an hour now, the line moving at a horrifically sluggish pace that would get employees crucified during the holiday shopping rush. Yet, for some reason, the line doesn’t ever seem to get impatient.

The bakery exudes warm lighting through its glass windows, and Akira glances inside. It hasn’t changed much since he came in here last, but now it’s slathered with pine-colored wreaths and garlands, all twisted with bright-red ribbons and over-the-top bows that would have been ridiculous had he not known who put them up in the first place. Now, it’s just endearing.

An old woman hobbles to the glass door from the inside, hands full with bags of brioche, and just as Akira is about to open the door for her, it swings open—

“Oh! So kind of you, Sakamoto-kun!”

“Don’t worry about it, ma’am. I’m sure neither of us can take the heartbreak if that bread of yours hits the concrete, huh?”

They both share a genuine laugh, and Ryuji holds the door open as the woman shuffles away, still smiling. Instrumental Christmas music is playing from inside, and with it comes a burst of heat that’s packaged with every bakery during the wintertime.

Akira presses his lips together. “Does that mean I can come in now?”

Ryuji blinks, before his head jerks towards him, eyes wide. “Akira!”

This is probably his second favorite part of visiting Ryuji when he works; with a white button-up and khakis topped off with a red apron, he looks incredibly endearing in a way that Akira can’t begin to describe. It’s only ever improved during December, when he chooses to wear reindeer antlers for a more festive look. (His words. Apparently, the regulars love it.)

“Ryuji.” He can’t hold it back anymore—a smile splits wide across his face. “Looking good.”

“Looking hot you mean,” he gives Akira a slow spin. “Bet you’ve never seen anyone rock an apron this hard.”

He meant it as a joke, but it still rings true. Both of them are older now. A little taller, a little broader than they were in high school, but there’s something in the way that Ryuji’s changed that makes people flock to him. His hair is still bleached blond (there’s no getting rid of that one), but he has an undercut that shows his natural hair underneath, and he has bright red studs on both earlobes that have the tendency to catch light when he’s at the right angle.

When he smiles, it’s bigger than it was. When he laughs, it fills in every empty crevice in the room. When he speaks, it’s with a little more confidence.

But despite everything that had changed, when his eyes meet Akira’s, it’s still the loveliest feeling in the world.

“Nope,” he answers honestly, despite seeing him in that apron dozens of times before. “And I’ll never get tired of it.”

“Sakamoto-san!” the voice of a gruff middle-aged man a few spots behind Akira yells out. Akira’s smile splits even wider, knowing what will happen next. “Is that the Akira you keep telling us about?”

“Wait, the Kurusu Akira?” Someone else pipes in—a girl in her early twenties. “Huh, you’re right! He’s just as good-looking as you said he was.”

“Thank you for your kind words,” Akira replies, but his eyes are trained on the boy in front of him, refusing to look embarrassed. “That’s really nice of you to say.”

“Aw, and he seems like such a sweetheart, too. How’s the cafe doing? Heard you got promoted to assistant manager there recently. Good on you!”

He gives Ryuji an amused look. “Is there anything you haven’t told them about me?”

“When have I ever learned to shut up when it came to you?” he shrugs. “Pretty sure even the bookstore next door knows about your promotion too, by now.”

“Kurusu-kun, congrats on finishing your essay! Foreign policy is a tough thing to write on, you know.”

“Oh Kurusu-san, you’re absolutely going to adore what Sakamoto-chan got you for Christmas! He worked so hard on it, you’re going to love it to shreds.”

“Hold on, I thought you worked Thursday nights, Kurusu-kun. What are you doing here?”

It seems that even Ryuji has a breaking point—his face has grown scarlet, and his eyes are flittering away. It’s mind-numbingly charming. When Akira responds, his small smile has worked up to become a full-on grin. “I just got off work, actually.”

“Guys,” Ryuji groans loudly and leans over to give the long line a stern look. “We can’t keep doing this every time Akira comes over, it’s getting embarrassing.” Laughter rumbles through the lineup, warm and familiar and not a hint of maliciousness to be heard.

He clears his throat, but his soft voice does little to carry over the bustle of the city’s shoppers during their prime. “Sorry, I just wanted to drop something off for him. I didn’t mean to hold up the line or anything—”

“Dear,” an aging woman cuts him off. “Trust me when I say that we love seeing Sakamoto-san here be happy. After everything he’s done for us, this must be the least that we can do.”

“Yeah! He’s always giving us scones when there’s too many—”

“—and croissants—!”

“—once, he gave me a danish for free—”

Ryuji shushes them, panicked. “Quit yelling it out like that, or I might get fired.”

“As if we’d let that happen to you!” someone snorts, and there’s a chorus of agreements that ripple from the crowd.

Belatedly, Akira realizes that his cheeks are starting to hurt, but this wouldn’t be the first time this happened. Or the second. Or the tenth.

This is his favorite part about visiting him at work—to see him at work, to see him play the role of working in customer service.

But it never feels like that. When Ryuji’s speaking to customers, it doesn’t matter what they’re buying or how busy they are; he gets to know them. He could give less of a damn about the product they sell; it’s less about the selling, and more about reaching out to them and to make sure that they’re doing alright. He takes the time to talk to them, to learn their names and their preferences and who they are.

It just so happens that they also get to know him in return.

“I should go,” Akira mummers. “You’ll never get through this line if I keep distracting you like this.”

He rolls his eyes. “Sure, blame me and not the actual gang of people bullying a poor bakery sales associate.”

“They love you, Sakamoto-san,” he teases.

“Oh, shut up.”

“I just wanted to drop by to say hi, and also—” Akira holds up the still-warm bag in his hand. “To drop off some ramen, in case you got sick of eating bread during your break.”

Ryuji’s eyes are sparkling. Quickly glancing inside the bakery to make sure his manager isn’t watching, he pecks his cheek. He smells like sugar glaze and warmth.

“I love you,” he whispers, ignoring the small cheer behind them like some sort of romcom.

“And I love you. Go kick some ass, and I’ll pick you up at 8:30, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” Ryuji salutes, taking the weight off his hands, before turning to the person behind Akira. “Saito-san, welcome back! Two loaves of the Country Grain, right?”

Akira moves out of the way to finally let the line flow, touching Ryuji’s shoulder as he passes by. He takes one last look behind him and feels a pang of sympathy.

He’s been here enough times, has eaten enough of this bakery’s products to know that there really isn’t anything special about it. The food is fine; the scones are good, but he’s had better. Sometimes the flour loaf is tasty, but it’s hit or miss. The danishes are sweet and fluffy, but it’s guaranteed to be sold out by the time it hits noon.

It’s a mediocre bakery in the middle of Tokyo. You could find five more just like it down the street, and three better ones if you’re willing to take the bus. But, for some reason, there are also very few bakeries with this long of a line-up during the busiest time of the year.

Akira was the first person to line up for Sakamoto Ryuji’s attention all those years ago and it’s ridiculous that it’s taken this long for more people to start doing the same thing.

[justafewsmallsteps]

Okay, with the new series announcement, I’ve finally been inspired to finish off this artwork and story that I’ve been sitting on for years. Call it a goodbye to my headcanon kids because now we have the real deal!!! 

Title: The Golden Girl 

Word Count:

3576

Rating

: G+

Let it be known that Mizuki adored her father. Anyone could tell by the way she followed him around and tried to copy his actions. 

She had his temperament and lack of patience, but in a cuter way (for now). Her big, shiny, golden eyes were just like his, and the black ears atop her head swiveled around just as his did. She loved it. She loved being just like him in every way she could; going around picking up big sticks to swing like her own Tessaiga. 

She looked up to him so much, it made Inuyasha’s heart ache. It did come with some new, dangerous territory though. For instance, he had one hell of a time trying to watch his vocabulary once Mizuki started speaking. He’d never forget the dagger of a glare that Kagome sent his way when their daughter babbled her first, “Damet” after dropping her snack. He thought he would be skinned on the spot. 

“She’s going to copy anything you do, so you have to be more careful!” Kagome chastised. 

“Why me?” Inuyasha asked in a grumbled whine. “She should be looking up to you! You’re her mother, ain’t ya?” 

Kagome frowned. “Mizuki thinks the world of you.” Her expression softened. “That’s what daughters do when they love their dad.” 

A pang of guilt seized his chest. In flashes he remembered another time and place, photographs and a stick of incense at the shrine tucked away in a private room; a young man with Kagome’s eyes. It was something that she didn’t talk about often, but her father’s loss still shook her sometimes. He took in Kagome’s glassy eyes and the pink flooding her nose. He reached around to hold his wife in his arms. “Okay,” Inuyasha mumbled as he kissed the top of her head. “You win. I’ll watch out.” 

So he proceeded with caution, tried to hold his tongue from cursing, and he did his damn best to be more patient than he’d ever thought possible. All for their family, for his wife, for his daughter. 

He never thought of himself as a role model. 

He used to think he was a freak.

But then Kagome came around, and then he had friends. He found a place in the world that accepted him as he was, and he held onto her with a fierce protectiveness. He even let her go once and was forced to find peace within loneliness. He did it for her, because even if he never saw her again, he’d love her. He’d live for her even without her there. 

But then by some miracle Kagome came back. The world was right. He belonged, they got married, and they were a family all on their own.  He didn’t think life could get better honestly. Then they had their first kid. When Mizuki was born, Inuyasha was sure that he’d never seen anything more precious in his life. He loved the dark ears atop her raven-haired head, and he nearly melted the first time she opened her honey-colored eyes. She was an existence made up of his and Kagome’s love. 

He wished she didn’t take so much after him though. She was just shy of passing for normal… 

“So beautiful,” Kagome had whispered, instantly washing away his fears and doubts. “Just like her dad.” 

Beautiful, huh? He hoped that someone would love his daughter like Kagome loved him. He also hoped that day was very far away, he thought warily. For now, he would make sure that his kid felt good about herself. He would never let Mizuki think of herself as a monster or a weirdo. He’d do his damnedest to build her confidence and surround her with love. 

And it worked out pretty well. Maybe too well if her ego was anything like his own. 

Mizuki really did love everything she had in common with her father. When they both heard a sound and turned the same way, she’d puff up with pride. “Mizuki hears it too!” she’d exclaim gleefully, making a point to wiggle her ears. 

It always made him grin. 

He never thought there could be a downside to her adoration. She loved him, she loved herself; everything was good. 

Then Shouya was born. 

Shouya, his son, who did not have his ears or his eyes. He actually looked a lot like Kagome, Inuyasha thought fondly. He had his mother’s nose, her human ears, even her adorable puffy cheeks. The one thing that made Shouya anything like Inuyasha was his distinctly silver colored hair. Yet somehow, despite being almost the opposite of his daughter, he was equally as perfect. Inuyasha had thought it was impossible to love anyone more than Kagome, and then Mizuki, and yet somehow his capacity for love simply grew as soon as he witnessed his son. 

And when Mizuki, at just five years old, laid her pretty, amber eyes on her brother... she burst into tears! Kagome was still bedridden and recovering, so Inuyasha flew into action. He tried to calm her down but she was inconsolable, and her crying triggered Shouya to follow. 

With two wailing children, Inuyasha and Kagome were immediately set to high stress mode. It was not the cute first meeting between new siblings that they had anticipated, dreamt about, planned for when Kagome was still waddling around as she told Mizuki all about being a big sister. 

Instead she cried. A lot. Loudly. 

Inuyasha had to pick up his distraught daughter and take her outside. 

“Kiddo, what’s wrong?” He asked, shifting her a little in his arms. 

Mizuki rubbed at the tears on her face and clutched to her father’s shoulders. Unable to form words past her sobs, she grabbed fistfuls of his hair and tugged, but Inuyasha didn’t pay any attention to the pain. Instead he did his best to soothe her, patting her back until she was reduced to hiccups. That night she cried and sniffled herself to sleep, leaving two very anxious parents. Thankfully Shouya slept soundly. 

It took a week of grouchiness and tantrums before anything productive happened. Inuyasha whined to his recovering wife about his daughter’s poor attitude and lack of communication. Kagome simply laughed at him. “Now you know what it’s like dealing with you.” 

Indignant, he scowled, “She’s a child!” 

“At least she has an excuse,” Kagome retorted cutely. 

Inuyasha would’ve been more upset, but having her humor back was a relief to him. She’d been exhausted and bedrested for the end of her pregnancy. Kaede had assured him that she’d be fine, but it still made him anxious to see her so putout. Shouya came out a fat, healthy baby, but even then Kagome didn’t get much time to relax. The newborn was up at odd hours and constantly hungry. It was the least Inuyasha could do to try taking care of Mizuki, though he hadn’t anticipated her moodiness. 

Whenever they were out of the house and away, she seemed to relax, but otherwise his girl was totally uncooperative. Miroku and Sango figured that she didn’t like sharing the attention. It was something they dealt with in the early days with their own twin girls. They shrugged and gave him their sympathy, but otherwise couldn’t offer much advice except for him to be patient and try to talk to her. 

The problem was Mizuki didn’t want to talk. As soon as he mentioned her brother she’d have a fit. Admittedly, he joked dryly to himself, he felt the same way about his own brother for a long time. The feeling had been mutual, probably. 

But Sesshoumaru was an asshole, and Shouya was barely eight days-old. 

Inuyasha sniffed the air as the wind passed them by. Kagome was waiting for them. “Kiddo, the sun’s getting low. We gotta go home to Mama.” 

Mizuki didn’t look up from her spot on the ground making leaf huts. “I don’t want to.” 

“There’s dinner at home.” 

“I’m okay.” 

He wondered how to persuade her. “Papa’s getting real hungry though. I might fall over if I don’t eat!” 

“Papa can fish,” she replied with no mercy. 

“So we’ll never go home again? I’ll never see Mama again?” 

She seemed to consider that. “Mama can visit us, but leave the baby.” 

Inuyasha folded his arms. “That’s your brother, ‘Zuki.” 

“I don't care. I don’t like him.” 

“So you won’t go home unless we get rid of your brother?” 

“Maybe Mama can put him back in her tummy.” 

He snorted. “That’s probably going to hurt your mother.”

“Then give him away to someone who wants a new baby. Far away.” She seemed set, and if Inuyasha knew anything about his daughter, it was that her stubbornness rivaled her parents’. Yikes. At least that was only half his fault. 

He figured lying would get him farther than arguing for now. It’d get him home at least. “Okay. We’ll tell Mama to leave the baby because you don’t like him. Then you’ll let us go home and eat? I can smell the food. Smells good. Can you smell it, little one?” 

Mizuki wrinkled her nose and sniffed the air. 

“I smell it too, like Papa! It does smell good!” she agreed with enthusiasm, but Inuyasha smirked. She had to be lying. They were far away enough that Inuyasha knew she’d have trouble picking out the scent, but she was always trying so hard to keep up with him. He decided to humor her. 

“You smell the stew?” 

“Yes!” 

“Wow, I’m so impressed. Let’s go get some. I’m starving!” He knelt down and opened his arms wide for her. When she barreled into his arms he was reminded of his great, unending love for her. He spun her around and squeezed her squirmy body as she giggled, then dipped her over to attack her face with kisses. 

“Papa, let’s go!” 

“Okay, okay. Let’s go.” He shot off with his usual pace when carrying his daughter. She liked to feel the bounce of his steps, laughing her way as they went up then down. It was slower than his run, but way more fun. He figured he should put her in the best mood possible when they broke the news that they were going to have to keep her brother around. 

“We’re home,” Inuyasha announced as they entered. 

Kagome was standing near the futon, rocking the baby in her arms gently. 

“Good timing. Shouya just had dinner and just fell asleep.” 

“I’m envious. Sounds like a good life,” he joked. 

Mizuki tugged on his arm. “Papa.” 

Right. 

“So Kagome, I have some bad news.” When she looked at him confused, he made sure to emote that everything was fine. He liked how easily they communicated. 

“Oh yeah?” she goaded. 

“Yup. Looks like we’ll have to get rid of the new baby.” 

“Oh no! That’s so sad. Why’s that?” 

Mizuki squirmed around and pulled her father’s face down. “Papa!” she whispered with urgency. 

He held up a finger, motioning for Kagome to hang on. She gave him a smile to show her amusement. He missed her face today. He hasn’t seen enough of her while he was out distracting their daughter. Speaking of which… 

“What’s up, kiddo?” 

She cupped her small hands around her mouth to relay her secret message. “Tell Mama you don’t want the baby! Don’t tell her I don’t want him.” 

“Mizuki, I’m not going to lie to Mama. You’re the one who wants him gone, so you should tell her,” he whispered back. He lifted his head back to Kagome, assuming she must have at least heard some of their conversation. “Mama, Mizuki has something to tell you,” Inuyasha proclaimed, full-well knowing he was throwing her under the bus. Poor thing. 

The girl seemed to go red in his arms, suddenly panicked as she faced the most intimidating figure in her (and his) life: her mother. 

“Is that so? What do you need to tell me, Mizuki?” 

“I--” She sputtered and her eyes began to water and she looked up at her father, silently pleading for him to take over. He shook his head. Of course he felt bad, but she wasn’t being very cooperative when he asked. Kagome was their best bet at getting some answers. If she could get him to open up, she’d manage a five year-old. 

“You?” she leaded. 

“I want the baby to go away!” she admitted quickly. Her mouth turned itself into a defiant pout, as if she was putting on a brave face. 

Kagome paid it no mind. “You do? Why?” 

She hesitated for a second before supplying, “I don’t like him!” 

“Okay, but why?” 

Mizuki whined; a true, genuine whine that sounded like a puppy. 

Inuyasha would’ve broken, but Kagome seemed unfazed. How could she? Did she have no heart? It amazed him. 

“Do you not like him because he’s a boy?” 

“No.” 

“You don’t like how he smells?” 

“No…” 

“Are you jealous?” 

Bingo. 

Mizuki ruffled and got even redder in the face. Inuyasha gave his daughter a reassuring pat. They already figured that was the problem, but it was a new feeling for her to navigate. 

“Mizuki, are you jealous that Mama spends so much time with Shouya?” Kagome asked softly. 

“No!” she yelped back.  

“Don’t yell at your mother,” Inuyasha chastised. 

She shrunk down, her ears flattening. It must have felt like they were ganging up on her, but the time had come for her unexplained tantrums to end. With pent up frustration and embarrassment, pools of tears began to stream down her face and she cried, “I hate him!” 

“You don’t have to be jealous, kiddo.” 

She wailed, and Shouya finally took notice of the volume, beginning to wiggle and fuss in his mother’s arms. Kagome motioned for Inuyasha to take her away so she could calm him down before he had his own fit. The baby was a heavy sleeper and not a huge crier, but he was cranky when woken up. They’d both be miserable with the two of them crying up a storm, especially Inuyasha with his sensitive hearing. 

As soon as he got out the door, he went into comforting mode. There was no use trying to talk to his little girl in this state. He bounced her up and down, shushing her and rubbing her back as she got out her tears and hiccuped. 

Inuyasha wracked his brain for the right approach. He had only recently come to terms with expressing his emotions. How was he supposed to tell a child to handle hers? “It’s okay to have feelings, you know.” 

Exhausted from crying, she slumped against his shoulder. 

“Papa gets jealous too sometimes. Is that what’s happening? You’re jealous?” 

She sniffled and slowly nodded. He could feel the heat and moisture of her tears seeping into his firerat. Probably snot too. 

Gross, he thought affectionately. 

“That’s alright. Do you want to tell me why?” 

He felt her shake her head. 

“And it’s not because Mama’s busy taking care of him?” 

Another no.

He was kind of at a dead end. She was jealous without much reason behind it. Was she capable of having a good reason? He searched the recesses of his mind, channeling the nurturing care of his wife. 

“Even if I love your brother, you know I don’t love you less, right?” 

“Okay,” she replied in a small voice. 

“Does that make it better?” 

Negative. 

Inuyasha sighed, feeling impatient and hopeless. 

Kagome emerged from the hut just then; Shouya once again soundlessly asleep and swaddled against her chest. She smiled at him sympathetically, knowing that crying was never his wheelhouse. He’d always hated when women cried, but Mizuki’s tears were a whole other level of unbearable. 

“The weather is nice. The sunset looks like it’ll be pretty,” she stated in a soft, even tone. 

“Wanna take a look, kiddo?” 

“The colors are pretty. The clouds are getting pink! Our favorite.” 

Mizuki shuffled a little as her father angled himself so that she could see from her place on his shoulder. She turned to rest her cheek on him, but otherwise kept sniffling. 

“Are you feeling any better now?” Kagome asked her daughter, placing a quick kiss to her swollen face. 

Instead of replying, she tugged at her father’s hair again, using it to cover her face. It was a strange, new behavior. Usually when she wanted to hide she’d simply turn her head into his shoulder. Maybe it comforted her though. 

“Not sure why she’s doing that,” Inuyasha murmured. “She does it whenever she has one of her fits now.” 

Kagome stared for a while before she let out the lightest gasp. When the hanyou looked down at her curiously, he saw the familiar expression of her coming to some kind of understanding. 

“Oh, Mizuki…” she cooed with sympathy. “You poor baby.” 

Inuyasha raised a brow and Kagome pulled away to laugh. Whatever it was, he knew she’d explain, but it was killing him to be out of the loop. 

“She just wants to be like her Papa,” she said with soothing empathy threading her tone. Kagome looked up at her husband fondly, taking her hand to cup his cheek. “From his golden eyes,” she ran her thumb across his eyebrow. Then she reached up towards his ears to stroke one until it flicked in response, “To his fuzzy ears…” she smiled brightly, “to his pretty, silver hair…” Kagome finished, loosely twirling a strand around her finger before turning her gaze to their son. 

It clicked for him then. 

“You’re jealous of your brother because of his hair?” 

Mizuki whimpered, the scent of collecting salty tears assaulting Inuyasha once more as she grabbed more of his locks to cascade down over her own head. 

Mystery solved! 

It was so cute and so stupid that Inuyasha wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. 

“Is that really it, ‘Zuki?” 

“I told you, she wants to be just like you,” Kagome reiterates, placing a soothing set of fingers to touch her daughter affectionately. 

“Keh!” Yet somehow he was blushing. Maybe it had to do with the way Kagome was beaming at him, prettier than any sunset. “That’s stu--silly. What a silly reason to be upset.” 

Mizuki huffed in anger. 

“I mean,” he faltered. “It’s sweet. It’s very sweet.” Finally feeling like he had a hold on things and the world made sense again, he mindfully moved back his daughter’s sagging body from his shoulder, some of the hair getting pulled along with her. “But you don’t have to be jealous, little one. You’re great just the way you are, you know that?” He nuzzled their noses together. 

“B-But I want to be like Papa!” she sobbed, pushing back. Not even her snotty nose or blotchy crying face could detract from how wretchedly adorable she was. 

Kagome thought her heart would melt. “Papa is pretty great, but baby, you are so much like him! You don’t have to have everything be the same.” 

It didn’t seem to matter. “Why does the baby have Papa’s hair and I don’t? It’s not fair!” 

Both Inuyasha and Kagome exchanged looks. It was clear that Mizuki wasn’t going to get much consolation from her mother on this issue. 

Finally, an idea popped into Inuyasha’s head. 

“You got my eyes though, don’t ya?” He asked, looking right into her honey colored irises. They were even more intense at this golden hour. 

“Yeah…” her ear twitched along with her sniffle. 

He grinned. “Then you see the same way I do. You see everything I do, right?” 

“Right,” she agreed. 

“When I look at you, I see the most perfect little girl in the world. Beautiful eyes, cute little ears and nose, pretty hair like her mother, and the best smile. I see all that. You see it too?” 

Mizuki’s eyes watered again, but she nodded. Kagome took the time to brush back the hair stuck to her face. 

Inuyasha prodded his daughter more. “You see it, kiddo? Just like me?” 

“Yeah.” 

“That’s what I want to hear!” He pulled her from his body and hoisted her into the air. It was one of their favorite things to do. He spun her around and tossed her until she was nothing but an exhausted heap of smiles, and the stars began to twinkle in the early evening sky. 

Later that night when she was about to sleep, Mizuki looked at her brother for a long time before turning away with a curt, “Goodnight baby. We won’t give you away.” 

Kagome snorted back a laugh and had her husband put her to bed. Crying, laughing, and letting go of a grudge all in one day really took it out of their poor toddler. Still, seeing Inuyasha fumble through feelings and childrearing-- it all felt so surreal. It felt like home, and she’d never been more content with her life. 

Once the kids were both asleep and tucked away, Inuyasha sat behind his wife and finally held her close, his head sitting on her shoulder. He inhaled her scent to re-center himself. 

“Tough to be a dad?” she asked teasingly. 

“She’s a lot to handle.” 

“She’s just like her father.” 

Inuyasha rolled his eyes but let them fall shut as he nuzzled into the crook of her neck. 

Kagome turned her cheek and pressed her lips against his bangs. 

“Perfect to me,” she added. 

Embarrassed but happy, he simply tightened his arms around her. “Yeah, yeah.” 

[llogllady99]

We’ll meet again

CHARACTERS | Levi, Erwin, Gabi, Falco

RELATIONSHIPS | Levi x Erwin

GENRE | Angst, Characters death

IV | Characters death, talks of reincarnation, mourning, angst, heavy angst i think, Erwin’s grave

SUMMARY | It was the 14th of October and Levi had just come to visit his late lover’s grave: Commander Erwin Smith, dragging Falco and Gabi with him.

WORD COUNT | 2k

Droplets sharp like knives rained down relentlessly against the jagged and worn out headstones in Paradis’ graveyard, further eating away at the already damaged and weathered rock. Puddles have formed in the depressions of the little allies that snaked in between the graves, gravel and dirt mixing with the glacial downpour of mid October. Trees, specifically three or four oak trees and five pine trees that were placed in acute measured intervals, were dripping with water, their leaves ruffled violently by the gale that accompanied the rain. The clouds and sky were a dark grey, occasionally splitting when lightning broke through, immediately followed by the roar of thunder, silencing and drowning out every sound present in that moment in the valley and everything in its vicinity. When such events did not occur, the high pitched squeaking of a wheelchair and its occasional bumping into small, misplaced bits of gravel could be heard, accompanied by short and light footsteps following it closely could be heard.

In the terrible weather, that had decreased the visibility exponentially, three figures could be distinguished making their way through the alleys of the graveyard: the owner of the wheelchair, a man in his forties with onyx black haired and with an enormous scar deforming his once perfect face, and two children: a girl with chestnut brown hair the same colour as her eyes and a boy with blonde hair and hazel golden eyes. Their destination was still unknown as the boy had trouble following the instruction the man in the wheelchair voiced, his tone growing more aggressive by the minute, his excitement and eagerness starting to show. But as time progressed, their destination seemed to be at the far back of the cemetery, where a massive white marble head stone laid, seemingly unaffected by the furious torrent around it. It was the 14th of October and Levi had just come to visit his late lover’s grave: Commander Erwin Smith, dragging Falco and Gabi with him.

Seven years had passed since Erwin’s death but it still felt like it was yesterday. The pain, regret, and love were still as intense as they were when the man took his last breath, abruptly raising his hand up asking that damned question again before inhaling and exhaling shallowly. It was a cruel world they had lived in back then and certainly letting Erwin rest had been the best decision and one of the greatest gestures of love Levi had done for him. They all suffered so much, him most out of them all. There was no point in bringing him back and let those regrets and guilt pile up even more. Sometimes, selfishly Levi would allow his mind wonder and wish his lover would be there again with him, if only for a little bit, enough to witness the world they were in now. A world with no more wars and hardships. He would also imagine their life together: buying an apartment together in the centre of Mitras, raising a few pets together, getting married for real, adopting, and taking him to the ocean, a wonder which Erwin never had the chance to experience. Levi would have shown him all the weirdly shaped shells that Armin was so passionate about, the colourful fishes that swam where the water was deeper, and the way the sun rose from the water, painting it in vibrant yellows, oranges, and reds.

Levi had also told Gabi and Falco about Erwin, telling them about the greatness of his Commander, their relationship, and about his last moments. The children had been surprisingly understanding, Gabi’s prejudice’s long forgotten, and had offered him great comfort telling him they wanted to know more and actually meet the man, well what remained of him. Levi reckoned that there would only be his bones, if they had not turned to ashes those seven years, and maybe a phew strands of his infuriatingly beautiful golden hair, a feature of his which the raven adored. Therefore, here he was, looking down at the white marble headstones, emotions and memories flooding back in again. He briefly showed the children the headstone and then asked for a little privacy. With sympathy, they obliged and walked off in a random direction through the cemetery, each equipped with a black umbrella, shielding them from the torrential rain.

Now alone, Levi readjusted his umbrella so it sat upright without his support, then reached for the bag that rested against one of the armrests. It was a brown leathered sling bag which he took from Erwin a while ago. He had found the bag while gathering his things from his office when they came back from the expedition. Back then it had brought back memories of secret picnics in flowery meadows on their days off. Erwin always had to drag him by force because Levi didn’t know how to let go, comfortable in his routine. Looking back now they should have done that more often. He missed the whispered I love yous, make outs with flowers in their hair and dirt on their clothes, half-assed sandwiches stollen from the barrack’s kitchen. Now, besides Erwin’s cloak that was neatly folded and handled with the utmost care in his apartment back in Marley, the bag was a reminder that Erwin had indeed lived among them, that he was not some figment of his imagination. Inside it he had stored a mini wooden and golden gramophone. It had been a gift from Onyankopon, because the man had noticed his enjoyment and fascination with music. After carefully placing it in his lap, next he took out a small record that he gently placed on the gramophone. Looking back at the headstone he tried to imagine that Erwin was there, in his Survey Corps uniform with a warm smile on his face staring back at him. Levi lifted his chin, looking into his lover’s eyes, but to an outsider into pure nothingness. Now in a wheelchair, he was even shorter than him, albeit at his one meter and some hope, he didn’t have much to compare to Erwin in the first place. But now it seemed as if their faces were miles away.

“Listen carefully now big guy, I’m about to play you my new favourite song.” Levi smiled then proceeded to gently place the tonearm over the disc record. The disc started rotating, then the sound of trumpets sounded through the horn and into their surroundings. After a short intro, it sang:

We'll Meet Again

Don't know where, don't know when

But I know We'll Meet Again

Some sunny day

Keep smiling through

Just like you always do

'Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away

So will you please say hello

To the folks that I know

Tell them I won't be long

They'll be happy to know

That as you saw me go

I was singing this song

We'll Meet Again

Don't know where, don't know when

But I know we'll meet again

Some sunny day

We'll Meet Again

Don't know where, don't know when

But I know we'll meet again

Some sunny day

Keep smiling through

Just like you always do

'Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away

So will you please say hello

To the folks that I know

Tell them I won't be long

They'll be happy to know

That as you saw me go

I was singing this song

We'll Meet Again

Don't know where, don't know when

But I know We'll Meet Again

Some sunny day

As the song came to a stop, the disc record spinning slower and slower, a stray tear found its way on Levi’s cheek, streaming down fast at first but as it reached his jawline, it faltered for a little then fell on his shoulder, colouring almost imperceptibly the grey suit a darker grey. The gramophone, now ceasing to emit any kind of sound, was tucked right back to its fateful place in Levi’s bag. Rearranging it so that it rested again comfortably against the armrest, the raven turned his attention to the imaginary Erwin that stood motionless on his own headstone, staring back with the same vibrant cerulean eyes and soft smile. Usually, Levi would have felt unnerved by his stare, always reprimanding him with a “What you looking at, creep?”, but now he missed it dearly, the longing clawing at his chest and making it hard for him to go through with what he had to say next. So, ignoring the lump forming in his chest and the tears that threatened to fall, Levi opened his mouth and began to talk:

“Do you know why I like this song, Erwin? Because it reminds me of all of you. You, Hange, Mike, Petra, my squad, the brats.” Stopping to regain his composure, he inhaled and counted to three as Gabi had once told him, then continued his speech. “Do you wanna know what I did in the three years I wasn’t allowed to come to Paradis? I travelled. Like a lot. All over the world. I finally got to live for real. Getting to see all those place, the people, and cultures had been fascinating. However, one thing had struck me deeply: Buddhism. Such a strange name for a religion. And guess what, it has nothing to do with the walls or bad or wrong. It just is. One central belief of this religion is reincarnation. The concept had comforted me greatly. Life after death. Death is a natural part of the never ending cycle of life. Death leads to rebirth. It also claims that a person’s spirit remains close by and seeks out a new body and a new life.” Levi gulped then wiped away a few tears that had fallen. “But I don’t want you to find a new body. I don’t want any of you to find a body yet, I want all of you to wait for me. Wait for me, Erwin! Wait so we can start fresh together. Tell the others to wait for me too. Wait for me!” Levi had started to shout, desperation making its presence known.

He wanted to meet Erwin again, to fall in love with him all over again, to hold him, to be together again. If Erwin had reincarnated again, there was no way for Levi to meet him now, to fulfil all of his heart’s desire, and when he died, there would be no after life with Erwin. The only way was for them to wait for him so they can start fresh again.

“But who am I kidding? I only believe in this shit because it’s the only way to cope.” Levi brought a hand to his temples and massaged them, as another headache began to throb through his head. It had started to darken outside, they needed to get going, otherwise they would miss the ferry back to Marley. Hesitantly he called for Gabi and Falco to come get him. While he waited for them he told his lover one last thing:

“I have followed every order of yours, completing it. I chased Zeke for four years, all because I promised you. So, I also want you to promise me one last thing. Promise me we’ll meet again.”

The figure of Erwin standing on the grave vanished, leaving Levi alone. The raven rubbed away one last tear and greeted Falco and Gabi that were patiently waiting next to him. The three of them made their way out of the cemetery, Levi not sparing a look back. If he knew Erwin as well as he thought he did, he was confident they we’ll see each other again

They will meet again, one sunny day.

Notes :

The song for this fic is Vera Lynn - We'll meet again. I also posted it on Tumblr. Thank you for taking the time to read it! As always, I do not own Attack on titan or any of the characters that are in it. This is just a fanfiction inspired from the show! Thanks again and notes and comments are always welcomed. The gif was originally posted by @vialesana​ and Tumblr showed it to me.

[mysmesomefluff]

Believe Again: Chapter 33 (Preview)

Three years later

When Saeran left the apartment this morning, it was clean, pristine and neat. He had left everything in order, having been the last one on cleaning duty over the weekend.

But now… eight hours later, he had returned… only to find that the apartment now looked like it had been completely and utterly ravaged. There was a (thankfully) wrapped diaper lying abandoned in a corner, splotches of milk powder on the floor, and little white footprints mixed with big ones trailing into the hallway. The couch looked like someone had been using it as a trampoline, pillows and cushions had been left on the floor, children’s books and toys were scattered everywhere like leaves in fall, and the dining table was a mess of food stains, some of which looked suspiciously like vomit.

Saeran had come home early, skipping out on dinner with his friends at college because MC wanted him home for dinner today. But he was starting to regret his decision when he surveyed the apartment, a grimace forming on his features when he realized he would almost certainly be dragged into cleaning everything up together with his stupid brother. Said man had one simple job today: to babysit his three-year-old child, while MC went out to do some grocery shopping.

And as expected, he had failed spectacularly at it.

The wind slammed the door shut loudly before Saeran could grab the handle. Not thinking much of it, Saeran shrugged and entered, but was promptly startled by a wail—one that belonged not to his niece, but to his brother.

Saeran sighed, carefully tip-toeing his way past the minefield of dirt to avoid getting his socks dirty. He managed past the living room and was about to approach the hallway that looked equally disastrous, when he heard an adorable, heart-stopping voice.

“Ran? Un-ko?”

Saeran froze in his tracks, wavering slightly as he almost lost his balance in the awkward position he was standing in, with one foot directly in front of the other. He was this close to stepping on a puddle of water, and he refused to get his socks wet.

The voice was followed by the sound of little feet running across the floor, like the soft pitter-patter of rain. Saeran’s eyes darted to the source of the noise, and there he found his little niece, with her wild bedhead and rubbing her big, yellow eyes. It was the most adorable thing to watch—the moment she noticed him, he watched as the sleepiness in her features evaporated in a flash, her lips parting into the brightest beam he had ever seen.

And then she was running towards him, releasing a high-pitched squeal as she went as if she were a train.

Saeran didn’t even have time to register his foot stepping into the water when she practically slammed her face against his calf, her little arms wrapping tightly around his leg like a koala to a tree.

“Unko Ran!” she cried happily, and Saeran didn’t even realise he was smiling until he noticed the slight ache in his cheeks. He bent down and scooped her into his arms easily, listening to the sound of her laugh echoing off the walls.

“Were you a good girl today, Eun-byeol?”

“Yes!” she nodded enthusiastically, cheeks turning a rosy pink as she held his cheek with one tiny hand. “Play, play!”

“I was just about to put her to sleep…” Another voice emerged, and Saeran craned his neck to see his brother slinking out of the bedroom, looking like Death itself. His hair was a complete mess, and he had what looked like marker stains on his arms and face—he must have let her use him as paper again.  

It took a moment for Saeran to realise what had probably happened, his mind going back to the loud sound that the door created when it slammed shut earlier.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch the door handle in time. The wind was too strong.”

Saeyoung merely sighed, but it seemed more exhausted than anything else. Saeran could only guess at what on earth happened in this house today. No doubt, his niece must have been a handful—she had inherited her mischievousness from Saeyoung and her stubbornness from MC. And that made for one very difficult and out-of-control kid.

Saeran remembered Saeyoung retelling how Vanderwood had laughed when he first begged him to help babysit, saying something about how “karma’s a bitch” before hanging up on him altogether.

As terrible as it sounded, Saeran couldn’t help but agree.

The most peculiar thing was that for some reason, his niece had taken an exceptional liking to him, attached to him at the hip and always wanting to play with him. It didn’t help that “Un-ko” were her first words, instead of “Mama” or “Papa”. That had upset MC and Saeyoung both so much that Saeran almost felt guilty for playing with Eun-byeol whenever she so asked.

But it wasn’t like he could refuse her, not when she was so cute. She had big, round yellow eyes, fat cheeks that he loved to poke and pinch, long, wavy red hair that made her look like an angel, and her voice was adorable too. Especially when she called his name. Like she was doing now.

“Yes, yes, I’m here,” he chuckled, patting her on the head.

“She was asking about you all day, you know. Ever since we told her that you were staying for dinner today. She even refused to take her nap until you were back.”

“You were?” Saeran asked, turning his attention back to his niece, who was beaming at him proudly once again, as if she had achieved something huge. Well, he supposed, to a three-year-old, staying up past naptime was a huge feat in itself.

“Play, Unko Ran!”

“But you need to nap first.”

His answer didn’t please the three-year-old. Her lips dropped into a pout, and she shook her head. “No, play play!”

“We’ll play after you nap,” he told her firmly, already walking back to the bedroom where she had emerged from. She started to struggle, and he had to tighten his hold around her lest she fell out of his grasp.

“No! No!”

“If you’re good, I’ll let you crack the eggs later.”  

That was the most effective bribe he had up his sleeve. Saeran smiled to himself when he watched her pause thoughtfully, mentally calculating the pros and cons of his suggestion. She had been obsessed with cracking eggs ever since they made pancakes together in the kitchen, of course while she was seated safely in her high-chair and watched Saeran do all the work. She had pleaded and begged for him to let her try cracking the eggs but he hadn’t allowed it. It took a while to placate her by giving her a slice of lemon to play with instead.

“Okay…”

She was rewarded with a peck on the forehead. “That’s my girl.”

It didn’t take long for him to put her to sleep—since she had been staying up past her naptime she was already exhausted. Within five minutes she was out cold, although it took another minute for him to carefully wrestle his index finger out from her grasp without waking her.

When Saeran left the room, he was greeted by the sight of Saeyoung wiping the floor with a wet cloth. He took a moment to watch his brother do the work, sighing as he went and looking thoroughly drained.

Parenthood was certainly taking its toll on this inexperienced father who couldn’t do anything without his wife.

In an uncommon show of sympathy, Saeran stepped forward, snatched the rag from his brother, who then looked at him, confused.

“Go sleep. You look horrible,” was all he said, before he took over and started wiping the same spot that his brother had earlier.

Saeran hated cleaning already, and his stupid brother just had to make it worse by squealing his name and throwing his arms around him in a hug. It took two kicks before Saeyoung finally let go, rubbing at the sore spots on his thigh but still wearing the silly, idiotic grin on his face.

“Thanks, Saeran. I appreciate it.”

“Just shut up and go to sleep or I’ll knock you out myself.”

***

A/N: I’m so sorry that this took so long, I died during recess week lmao and I actually had this part written out before but then I scrapped everything and re-did it soooooo yeah.

I ended up thinking more about how I can develop the plot to end things on a fluffier and happier note, which is why this probably isn’t the last chapter (AAAAAA I WAS SO READY FOR IT TO END BUT AT THE SAME TIME I WANT FLUFF) 

so yeah i’ll TRY MY BEST. To upload soon. But also finals are in like a moNTH so :D Anyways I’ll definitely have time to work on this after finals so wheeee it’s just a matter of time (I’m SORRY THAT I ALWAYS KEEP PPL WAITING am truly unreliable but :”(((( thx for sticking with this story i rly rly appreciate it) 

okay enough rant from me i’ll try working on this chapter more although my plan is for it to be p r e t t y  l o a d e d so it miiiight not come so soon either. I’ll just try :) 

[wkngsnds]

So remember when I published “Whether You Fail or Fly”? I rewrote it! Well, some parts of it; I tried my best to reach the dark tone I was aiming for, fixed some things I thought were awkward, and so and so forth. I hope y’all enjoy it all the same.

I’ll post it on here too under a read more.

Title: Your Side

RATING: Teen and older audience

Two weeks ago, he never wanted a tool. Tonight, he’s grateful to his hitwoman.

Fuyuhiko had not been the type to black out during his fights; in fact, he savored every cut and bruise that he could take before Peko eventually intervened. He exists in a constant state of irritation with his anger never falling far behind. Despite being a yakuza, or perhaps that is exactly why, his anger was his weak point— almost as blinding and fervent as Kabukicho during the night. Just like his parents, he got hot under the collar relatively quickly and chose to focus all his energy on his victim, so he’s an extremist in his own right too. Fuyuhiko preferred to handle things “a man’s way”: being direct as possible instead of exhibiting a passive aggressive attitude. He believed he could smash his way through his opponents as he refused to lose sight of his goal.

Tonight was no different.

Peko never got hit during a fight— she was fast, strong, and cunning. However, it would be more accurate to say that she couldn’t afford to get hit; a thousandth second too slow, a single hair strand out of place, and it would all be over. She exists in a hypervigilant state even within the confines of the Kuzuryuu manor. It is not that she lacks trust in her “coworkers'', per say, but protecting Fuyuhiko is the only thing she finds herself capable of doing. Truth be told, even with a small army of guards roaming the grounds it does not guarantee his safety, but by acting as his shield he’s all the more safer. It’s why she keeps her mind blank, but never loses focus; that is not to say she does not think at all— if anything, she is the type to overthink matters more than someone in her position should. These constraints both forced upon her and self practiced are why her rage is restrained. She’s not the type to anger easily, but when the emotion visits her it must be leashed and kept within bounds.

Tonight was no different. 

An ocean of alarm and disquietude drowned the underground of Tokyo, and nearly flooded the overground the day after Fuyuhiko confirmed Natsumi’s corpse. It had not been long until civilians heard of the misfortunate incident, and they took it upon themselves to go home earlier than usual as a precautionary measure. Even if they did not know Natsumi, her surname carried all the weight it needed to: it was not just a member of the clan who died, but someone with a direct relation to the leader. This action of avoidance, of course, did nothing to deter the Kuzuryu clan from their own private investigations; they were a 24/7 kind of business, after all. Each family belonging to the Kuzuryu-gumi had crawled out of their own holes-- those who supported Natsumi above Fuyuhiko worked especially hard to find their princess’s murderer. Then there were those, in their true yakuza nature, who wanted to take advantage of her death to strip the Ultimate of his inheritance. For them, it had not been a simple preference of the younger sibling, but instead a dissatisfaction and disfavor for their patriarch’s son. By extension, Peko received the same condemnation if not to a worse degree. Those in Natsumi’s faction who were slightly sympathetic to the heir blamed the bodyguard for his physical weakness and lack of will; her entire presence caused his spoiled and rotten nature. Put simply her existence, they thought, hindered his bloodlust. Others argued that the main family was not meant to kill as they were an ‘invisible hand’ which directed them all. A minority thought Peko to be a better yakuza than him, but they were smarter than to voice that opinion. There were also a few who thought him cursed— a way of karma for all the blood the clan spilled since its early days, and that blood most certainly flowed like a river. Nevertheless subsidiary matriarchs and patriarchs respected him as their heir at best, but they would not hold their breath for him either.

The funeral service would bring out the worst in the family.

Nastumi died in less than a week of attending the academy, so the two knew their investigation was limited to this timeframe. After confirming her corpse’s identity, the next step was to speak with the custodian who found her; if he had decided to keep information from the police Fuyuhiko had no qualms in using extensive methods of extraction. Meanwhile, Peko worked to address the rumors of a supposed pervert who was thought by the students to be the perpetrator. The mysterious figure had stolen one girl’s swimsuit, and then planned to violate the young mistress (the disgusted rage she felt momentarily dulled the pain in her wrist as her hand formed into a tight fist). Peko knew she needed to focus, so she took a deep breath and went to look for the first girl whose swimsuit had been taken; if the two were both victims to the degenerate, then it was important to establish a possible connection or a pattern. On the hand, if the attacks were random, it would have been hard to track down a possible suspect with the incredibly vague information. They also did not allow Fuyuhiko, understandably, to enter the crime scene, so her chances of success in that area were virtually zero. On the other hand, if this were a targeted attack, then there was a greater problem to be dealt with, and this girl might be connected.

She could not recall any subsidiaries with the name Sato, but it was also possible her mother married out of the respective family. Furthermore, Peko had not been ignorant to the clan’s...favoritism, but she would not be convinced by the apparent blind adoration; it could have been the start of a coup d’etat, and her young master would be the next target. Peko already failed both Fuyuhiko and Natsumi by not protecting the latter, failure to aid him in apprehending her killer or letting him die meant she truly was useless. Therefore, finding this girl and ‘speaking’ to her took over all her priorities. The kendo athlete scans the morning cafeteria until she spots her suspect (someone had kindly described her appearance) sitting at an empty table near the large windows. Like a tiger, she moves carefully to disappear from the girl’s direct line of sight and peripheral vision; she intended to take her by surprise— using that confusion to assert dominance in the conversation and as momentum for a potential confession. However, before Peko could get any closer Mikan had unfortunately bumped into her; like always, the nurse made a scene whenever she apologized to someone, and blew Peko’s cover. To make matters worse, she spotted the injured wrist she acquired from punching the wall yesterday, and became shockingly insistent on treating the wound. Mikan did not yield to any of her protest, and all but dragged her out of the cafeteria to the nurse’s office. For a weak willed clumsy girl, the kendo athlete did not expect her to be as firm in her handling.

True to her sensitive nature, Mikan noticed Peko’s state of irate despite the latter having a stoic face, and began to apologize once again. Stuttering throughout her explanation, it appeared as though she hardly slept the prior night. Mistaking the red eyed girl’s neutral, if not apathetic, question for sympathy the super high school level nurse rambled on about doing an emergency shift at a nearby clinic. Yet, even for Peko who was only half listening something felt off.

‘What you just said...was a lie, wasn’t it?’ A tit for tat question. 

‘H-Huh?! You w-were able t-to tell?’ She focused on the splinting for a moment, ‘U-Um...Pekoyama would it be too presumptuous to ask...if I could c-confide in you with s-something? I-It feels like my chest is going to explode if I can’t g-g-get it out.’

She’s weary of agreeing, but slowly nods her head nevertheless. 

‘I...I saw the body. Kuzuryu’s little sister...W-We found her in the music room l-last night.’ 

‘What did you say?!’

‘Eek! I..I’m sorry!’

‘Tsumiki, you need to explain to me exactly what happened. What do you mean ‘we’?’

At 7:30 pm, both yakuza convened at the heir’s off campus apartment to consolidate all the information they gathered. After deeming that he had nothing left to hide, Fuyuhiko “convinced” the custodian to allow him into the music room. There’s a tight feeling in his chest at the sight of the white tape— he had seen it plenty of time, but knowing it was his sister’s outline made him lightheaded. However, he knew there was no time to be distracted by his grief; he needed to devote all his energy on finding her murderer. Fuyuhiko mentioned to Peko that he saw the broken glass from where, according to the police report, the criminal had escaped.

‘It also said a nearby guard heard the sound of the glass breakin’ but never saw or heard anyone runnin’.’

‘That’s suspicious.’

‘Yeah, and there ain’t any security video footage of a shady person walkin’ ‘round campus. Not to mention, that hole in the window don’t look big enough for someone to jump through. None of this fucking shit adds up!’ He viciously kicks the low table before falling onto the couch behind it, rubbing his eyes and groaning loudly as he did, ‘Either this sick bastard is crafty as hell or...or someone who knows this fuckin’ school’s layout did it.’

She assumes a pensive position, ‘So, someone within the school is the culprit...? I believe that is an accurate deduction. There are even suspects to support your theory.’

‘W-What? Suspects?!’

‘Tsumiki, Koizumi, Hiyoko, Mioda, and a person by the name of Sato were at the crime scene. As it were, those five were the first to encounter the young mistress, and most likely—’

‘The ones who started the rumor of a pervert going around.’ His fists tightened to the point where his fingernails cut his skin and he began to bleed, ‘Those cunts...those goddamn fucking cunts...if it turns one of them killed Natsumi...I will never fucking forgive them. If all five of them were in on it...I don’t care how much blood is on my hands I’ll slaughter them all.’

Peko could not bring herself to calm him down; she shared his sentiments, after all. 

The next day went by in a blur. For the first time in a long while, the two yakuza were on the same wavelength: Peko advised him to avoid confronting any of the suspected girls without enough proof less he scared them away losing their only lead. Conceding to her counseling, he keeps his distance from them and their own classmates in general. However, he did not stand by, and instead went to question a few of the students in 77A. In return, he asked her to monitor the behavior of those four— they were citizens who, more than likely, had never dealt with corpses or killings in their life which he thought gave Peko a great advantage. Bluntly put, it takes a killer to know a killer. 

At the end of the day, when all was said and done their respective tasks were successful enough to narrow down their suspect list quite considerably. Fuyuhiko learned that not only was Sato with his sister on the day of the incident, but the two often bumped heads with one another. Concurrently, Peko overheard an anxious Mahiru mumble about needing to meet with the same Sato during their lunch break, so she messaged him those details when Koizumi had left the classroom. Although he didn’t find them in time to eavesdrop on their conversation, he had caught a glimpse of someone (he assumed to be Sato) throwing away what looked like paper into the garbage. At first he made sure to stay out of sight, but as soon as the coast was clear he made a beeline for the trash bin.

And just like that the number of suspects dropped from five to two to one.

In hindsight, investigating Sato and Koizumi should have been their first thought, but both were neglectful towards Natsumi’s own complaints and scheming. They had not noticed the particular animosity she held towards the photographer, and instead considered it yet another part of her antics. With Fuyuhiko constantly running away from all criticism and Peko mindlessly chasing after him, they never once considered looking behind them to see if she needed help. However, why would they need to? She was strong, probably stronger than the both of them combined and more than they’ll ever be. It is why she had been so reverend throughout the clan-- the reincarnation of a legend or perhaps something even greater than that. Where they both lacked brutality, bloodlust, and pride Natsumi made up for it a thousand times over. Fuyuhiko could still remember the day his father scolded him right after Peko rescued him from the man’s chokehold; it was a heated argument over something senseless the teenager had done earlier that week which left the patriarch a mess to clean up. 

‘This is why you need a fucking tool and your sister doesn’t. Maybe if you had your act more together like her, you would be half the fucking yakuza she is!’

Whether or not they moved forward is debatable, but they left her behind to fend for herself. Natsumi was a tough girl in a league beyond their own, and they were too wrapped up in their selfish problems. Truthfully, Fuyuhiko and Peko knew they were as responsible for her murder as Sato was. 

‘I will NEVER FORGIVE YOU!’

-- 

When the two finally returned to Fuyuhiko’s apartment they sloppily kicked off their shoes, and collapsed from exhaustion in the seats of the sleek black dining table. True to their upbringing, they had chosen a seclusive section of the nearby riverbank as the dumping ground. The route from the school to the river was relatively light, but the combined weight of the corpse, adrenaline, and guilt made it all the more treacherous to walk. Initially, Peko suggested contacting one of the nearby families who worked in construction to place the cadaver in concrete, and then toss it into the river. After a few moments, however, he refused. Fuyuhiko did not want to hide the body; he wanted her to rot for as long as possible before she was found— maggots crawling in and out of the holes they made of her. Normally, he wasn’t the morbidity type, but it would be a lie if he were satisfied with her death alone. Again, it was the first time in a very long while that they were on the same wavelength. 

Fuyuhiko could only watch as Peko stood, unsurprisingly, before he did; she had greater stamina and...experience than he did in all of this. She left his direct line of sight, but kept herself in his peripherals. For him, once the adrenaline of killing passed, the soreness dropped upon him like a ton of bricks, his muscles were tense, and it felt as though the slightest movement made his joints crack. He could feel the phantom force from swinging the corpse back and forth before throwing it down the bank. He rested his forehead on crossed fingers as his eyes briefly crossed over; part of him felt ashamed for feeling so weak-- what did that say about his future as a patriarch? He only did the killing, but Peko, like always, ended up cleaning his dirty work. In this case, she was the one who quite literally carried dead weight on their walk to the river. He did not argue when she picked up the corpse like a sack of rice and arranged it to fit in her kendo. The angles were awkward, but after breaking some joints here and a few bones there the corpse fit perfectly. All he could do was watch her. What could he say that would not end with him being in her way? He knows he can trust her to handle this, but what gave him the right to sit back and do nothing? He can do with expressing gratitude towards her or, at the very least, express a greater sense of gratification at avenging his sister. 

But all he felt was exhaustion.

 “You need to bathe.” It is rare for her to speak with a semblance of authority in her tone towards him, so she captures his attention quickly. On any other day, he might have told her kick rocks for treating him like a child, but he can only put up half a fight tonight. 

“It can wait until morning.”

“No, it cannot.” He heard her reach into a separate duffel bag she left in his apartment earlier this morning, “The stenches of blood and death are ones that linger if you do not remove them immediately. I am sure the doorman noticed, but kept his mouth shut.”

From the bag, she first pulled out a loofah and an antibacterial wash set. Next, there was a roll of black bags, a bottle filled with what he assumed were cleaning chemicals for the bat, and a cardboard box. He handed over the baseball cap at her request; she placed them in one of the aforementioned black bags along with her own and instructed him to throw his personal trash in there as well since she would burn everything later. He could also hear the crinkling of the paper that was used to wrap the corpse being stuffed into the bag. Watching her fix the box and line it with another black bag— the way her movements were quick and sharp nearly gave him vertigo, but it’s her calm demeanor (as if doing everything from muscle memory, which was most likely the case) that causes all his hairs to stand. This...this was her true speciality, wasn’t it?

Still not being able to raise his head, he asked if his own clothes needed to be burned as well, but the kendo athlete reminded him of the suit’s hefty price tag, thus intended to send it back home to be thoroughly cleaned. However, in all her fretting of his needs the realization hits him,

“What about your clothes?”

“Please do not worry about that.” 

“You just said we have to get rid of the stench, so do you have clothes of your own--”

 “Young master. Please go bathe.” Her voice initially sounded strained, then slowed down as if she were controlling her breathing. Not only was this a part of her speciality, but it was clear she had a method for her work that she hadn’t been too keen on straying from-- it was the same inflexibility (one not so different from the blond) that would get her killed on Jabberwock Island. For all the exhaustion Fuyuhiko felt, Peko silently masked her oncoming mental fatigue whilst also trying to ignore the ton of guilt weighing on her. From her perspective, she had just failed for the second time in a row: first, by allowing Natsumi to die and second, by allowing Fuyuhiko to kill by himself. It was not as though she could rid herself of any culpability, because she has disobeyed him in the past for the “sake” of his protection. So why didn’t she refuse him now? He had instructed her to act as if they were fellow high school students, so she would have been well within her orders to randomly check on her-- if not as the young master’s sister, then as a member of the Kuzuryu family she was owed the respect of being welcomed. What made his order so particular this time around that she found herself unable to deny? To make matters even worse, she allowed him to sully his hands with death while she stood and watched the bat crack Sato’s skull open. If she were forced to make an excuse, then it was as if some external power prevented her from interfering. Maybe it was a part of her, the human part, that understood it had not been her place to interject-- that she knew him well enough to know this revenge and avenge was to quench his heart from the sorrow plaguing him. No, perhaps this humanity of hers knew from the very beginning that he would not have been satisfied if Sato died by anyone's hands but his own, so she took the extra precautions to protect him throughout the conspiracy. Taking this into account, it was only natural that the tool she considered herself to be would come into conflict with the meddlesome human she actually was. 

As per usual, his movements drew her out of her spiraling thoughts; his stumbling did not go unnoticed, but before she could reach him to help stand, he had already taken the wash set, grabbed his nightwear, and headed towards the bathroom. 

 “There’s a washer-dryer set in this closet. Wash your clothes.” The door shut promptly behind him

Normally, it took him 15 minutes to get himself clean, but the falling of hot water on his back kept him in for five minutes longer. For five minutes longer, he mulled over his ambivalent thoughts— remembering how Sato’s face contorted into shock, and then overcame by dread and terror at the sight of him...it elevated him. The way she tried to run from him, but Peko threw her to the ground; kept down by an elbow between the shoulders, yet her head kept up by her hair. He’s never felt that kind of power: having everything and everyone in his control. For once, they feared him and not her. For once, someone begged at the feet for his mercy and not his father. 

Did Natsumi beg for her life?

Was she afraid?

Did she call out for him?

Then came the boiling rage once again; the jarring reality that it didn’t matter if he killed one person or left an entire town to die, he still had to bury his little sister. He knew her death wasn’t his fault, he’s not that delusional, but he thinks he could have stopped it. If he stopped running away from being compared to her, would she still be alive? He could have been a better brother if he had not been such a damn child. Would she have come to him for her personal problems if he was? If he had convinced their father that she needed a bodyguard if only to keep her out of trouble would that have kept her safe? If he let Peko go check on her, she would still be here, wouldn’t she? He watched as the blood from his hand (there’s only a crack on the tiled wall) washed down the drain, and then turned the faucet off altogether. As he dried himself, he noticed the basket he left in the washroom before the shower had almost been emptied save for his underwear and socks. He only rolled his eyes at this; she did this every once in a while when they were at home, and he grew tired of chastising her to let the maids do their jobs. Fuyuhiko could not begin to understand why Peko did these silent and small acts for him-- her only “job” was to follow his commands; going beyond that just seemed unecessary. It only dumbfounded him more when he realized, at some point, that she’d done more for him in a single week than he’d seen his parents do for each other since he was born. Of course, it was twice as aggravating when she opposed him returning those small acts every once in a blue moon. 

He exited the bathroom with his pajamas on and towel over his head as he found her meditating in the same clothes she arrived in. Everything around her had been prepared: the box of his clothes was closed ready to be sent home, the ‘burn bag’ was placed into her kendo duffel, and her black yukata was folded neatly next to her. 

Truly, that was what a professional looked like. 

“There’s an extra clean towel in the washroom. ‘Left the soap and shampoo inside the shower for you.” 

“Thank you.” Her weakened voice does not go unnoticed by him-- in fact, much of her behavior and mannerisms are more observed than she thinks. Though Peko believed herself to have spoken in perfect monotone, Fuyuhiko was able to hear the falter in the middle syllables*. It had been easier for him to count the days they were separate than together, so it would be highly alarming if he couldn’t pick out some difference in her attitude. Of course, recognizing the problem and doing something about it were two different objectives; furthermore, doing the obvious by asking her what was wrong didn’t seem like the right answer either. How many times has she asked him, and he’d brush her off at best and yell at her ‘to leave him alone’ at worst. What right did he have to interrogate her when he wasn’t the talkative type himself**? 

Besides, the yakuza heir knew the kendo athlete well enough to sense that she would also brush him off in return just so that he would not worry about her. In this regard, he understood how she felt: just like him, she hated when people fussed about her or gave her any more attention than what she could tolerate.  Peko was simply better at masking her disdain than he was; not that Fuyuhiko tried, of course, but still better nevertheless. In fact, this had been one of the many traits they had in common; regardless of surface level differences, Peko and Fuyuhiko were more similar at heart and at will than other people, or themselves for that matter, tended to realize. It’s why they were able to coordinate manslaughter so well.        

She cleared her throat which snapped him back to reality; it’s clear he had been staring at her for far too long causing her to become both concerned and uncomfortable. She tried not to express the latter, but, again, he’s well versed in her micro expressions. 

“Is there something you need, sir?” Now it’s her turn to watch his movements as he made his way to his bedroom, hands fumbling with the towel still on his head as he slid it down to his neck. 

 “It’s nothing. Go bathe while the bathroom is still warm.” And with that she disappeared, the door shutting quietly behind her.

Fuyuhiko released a tense sigh as he sat heavily on his bed. He could feel the conflicting twitch of his nerves; his muscles ached now that the adrenaline passed, but the near state of silence save for the hum of the shower relaxed him. If he has access to a mass fortune (legality of said money’s source notwithstanding), he might as well spend it on a condo away from the loudmouths that inhabited the Hope’s Peak Academy student dorms. Slowly, he picked his feet up onto his bed and laid down on his pillow; it felt like his head would explode with all the pulsing in his veins.

2:20 AM.

In three and half more hours, he will be awake for twenty four hours— nothing unusual for him, but worth noting in silence.

He breathed. 

Shuffling was heard in the background. 

 2:36 AM

Fuyuhiko was half asleep when Peko finished showering, and caught her trying to leave quietly. He slowly got up and made his way to lean on the doorframe, hand lazily stuck in his jinbei, and watched her. Despite all her yukatas being black, they had subdued patterns on each of them if one looked closely enough-- the blond was trying to discern whether it was her plain one or one that he bought her. He had gotten two of them for her birthday and Christmas last year, and all but screamed at her in an attempt to convince her to keep them.  

He speaks up “That’s the birthday one, right? Your yukata.”

“Yes, it is. Thank you greatly once again.” With a towel in hand, she continuously wrung out the excess water out of her hair, “The material is incredibly comfortable and breathable.” 

Recognizing his semi consciousness, Peko seemed more relaxed under his watch; though it wasn’t her place to understand, she remembered him doing this when they were children. On the worst days (i.e the patriarch and matriarch endangering his life during their fights), he would not fall asleep despite being put to bed first by the maids. Instead, he would watch her nestle into her spot beside him, and only then could he fall asleep. She just like then, she told him to put his worries aside, sleep for the rest of the night, and advised him to take today off as no one would dare pester him over his absence. Though, for as long and as well as she knew him, it was ironic how concerned Peko was for Fuyuhiko yet remained oblivious to his deeper troubles. It’s why she mistook the worry in his apprehension at her leaving for a sense of weariness and exhaustion to which she promised she’d quickly leave him to rest. Of course, her words only inflamed the expression on his face (that was not ironic, but instead typical) while his arms crossed in a defensive position.    

Even if she knew her heart to be kind, she could not comprehend why that kindness would be extended to herself, a tool, and therefore she could not understand why he protested her leaving.

“I-It’s the middle of the night in Tokyo; there’s some pretty drunk bastard roaming out, no doubt.” 

“I will avoid confrontation.” 

“Didn’t you say the lock at the girls dormitory is super loud? Wouldn’t you cause a scene entering this late?”  

“I can move quickly before I am spotted.”

“Gh-- Your hair is still wet, and then you’ll get sick dumbass!”

At this she looks at him directly with a raised brow, but he doesn’t meet her gaze. Her hand rested on the string of her sword bag, “Please do not worry me. I will be fine.”

He seemed to have no more arguments.

 “Then, if there is nothing else you need of me, I shall leave you alone now.” Just as she headed to the door and reached for the handle, Peko paused. Perhaps what he needed now was...comfort, though the bodyguard is not confident enough in doing such a thing-- at least, not in the way he may need it, if at all. Who could fault her hesitation? The last time she tried to ease his worries she let too much of her own weakness show and it worsened the situation.

But if she could provide him some closure...

“What?”

Her posture straightens to face him, “Sato deserved to die-- no, she deserved a fate worse than death. Even Koizumi should...” She stabilizes her breath and unclenches her hand, “I digress. You did it: with your strength and your wits, you killed Sato. That being said, accepting the fact you’ve murdered another person is not without trouble. Regardless if they deserved to die or not, regardless of how strong or skilled you are, regardless of premeditation or in the heat of the moment. Someone’s blood is now personally on your hands.”

“And there’s going to be more in the future.” 

“Yes...I suppose that is inevitable. Please forgive my impudence, young master. Sleep well.”

Just like that she messed up again; she wonders when she’ll learn to just keep her mouth shut instead of trying to comfort him...or whatever that pathetic display of encouragement-- if one could call it that. Peko reckons that life would be easier for the both of them if she were a simple yes man. As per usual, being so wrapped in her worries of offending him she failed to perceive the true problem he was facing at hand. When the yakuza heir said there would be more bloodshed, he did not intend to brush her off, but meant that the responsibility and weight of killing was something he needed to adjust to sooner rather than later. Of course, his usual poor communication which fought with a trepidation he tried to hide from her did nothing to help her understanding.

Sometimes, Fuyuhiko forgets that Peko isn’t a mind reader, so there’s no possible way she would know he feared losing her the same way he lost Natsumi if she walked out the door this instance unless he spoke bluntly.

“Stay with me.” 

The blond wasn’t sure if the words even left his mouth, and if they did he had not been sure if she heard him. Even though he had always been told to command her, he could never bring himself to do it-- there schools lives notwithstanding as he convinced himself it was for both of their sakes. It wasn’t like Peko’s...circumstances were unique to her; in fact, there were plenty of subordinates throughout the gang who shared her position, her ‘status’ as an object. The self-justified feudal system the clan upheld made bile rise to his throat each time he thought about it. Fuyuhiko has witnessed firsthand the horrid treatment of those people (tools, as they were denoted): the fear in their eyes, the way their bodies are thrown like rag dolls, and the absolute aura despair surrounding them. He doesn’t want that for Peko, he doesn’t want her to be his victim anymore than she already is.

In the end, it seemed that she did hear him, but not in the way he expected when she kneels with her back to the door placing her shinai on her lap. 

“I don’t mean guard my door. I meant that I want you to spend the night with me.” 

So much for speaking bluntly.

“Young master...?” 

“Fucking hell-- look, what I meant was,” He exhales forcibly, “What I mean is...remember when we were really small, and I had those shit fucking nightmares? How I wouldn’t sleep until you climbed into bed next to me?” 

He relaxed when he saw her relax. 

“I understand.”

He speaks slowly hoping to regain some composure, “I know this kind of thing is inappropriate even if we’ve done it already. I-I mean, we’re high school students now, ya know? Even if it’s just sharing the same bed space, this isn’t something teenagers should be doing. But I...I just--” 

“It’s fine. You do not have to explain yourself to me.”

“So you’re okay with doing it? Sh-Sharing the bed, I mean. And don’t say just yes because I asked you, got it?!”

For the third time, “I understand.” 

Now it was Fuyuhiko’s turn to overthink their conversation; he knew neither of them were the ‘heart on the sleeve’ types, but he wonders how much exactly she keeps to herself. Whether she thinks him pathetic or weak, but wouldn’t dare tell him directly to his face. Whether she truly hated his existence, and put on a front because she had no other choice. Theoretically speaking, it was a silly thought to worry about. He knew she all but worshiped the floor he walked on-- excused his behavior when it shouldn’t have been excused, took all the cursing he threw at her without blinking, and so on and so forth. But knowing all this and hearing her curt responses did nothing to ease the tension of his nerves.

If Peko thought him incompetent, was there truly any hope for him?

 It doesn’t take him long to set up a makeshift divide on his queen size mattress with an extra pair of flat sheets. Fuyuhiko was in bed before Peko as the latter made sure to lock the door; just like earlier, all he could do was watch her move about doing her own security check. He doesn’t think he’d ever find a justifiable reason for all his starring-- perhaps hypnotism would be the closest explanation. She does everything from opening and closing the window (checking it’s bullet resistance and angles for assassins, no doubt) to leaving the room to make sure the front door and balcony door were properly locked. When she returned, Peko looked over the bedroom; with a small sigh, it seemed her rigid inspection was finally finished. 

Seconds after this, the lights were turned off as now the soft glow of his bedside lamps filled their portion of the room. The mattress dipped when she sat down, and Fuyuhiko heard the faint sound of the silver haired girl fixing her bamboo sword between the bed frame and the nightstand. Her glasses were the last to leave her body, and joined the lamp on said stand. However, before she could lay down Fuyuhiko stopped her with a sudden jolt that even caught her off guard. The yakuza heir reached under the pillow to find the tanto knife he always kept hidden. She had lent it to him long before they arrived at Hope’s Peak Academy— when they went to different high schools; if she were to be separated from him, then at least he could use it to defend himself. Obviously, there were no qualms of ‘packing’ in the estate, but no one bothered to give him a weapon in the first place-- he even had to use part of his allowance to buy his favorite brass knuckles. The clan members assumed with her by his side she was the only weapon he would use. Nevertheless, there had been a sense of satisfaction for Peko that he had kept it with him for the past two years. She had selected the knife from her collection based on what she assessed of his skills and strength.  Once he placed the weapon beneath his pillow, their bodies collapsed on top of the blankets— each letting out an exhaustive sigh. It was the kind of exhaustion that made it impossible to sleep despite a long day of physical labor. Neither of them could be bothered to switch off the lamps, so they laid in silence for a few moments, eyes facing the smooth ceiling above them.

“Hey, Peko. My bad for cutting you off like and saying shit like that.”

Peko was never sure how to take his apologies; she was not the type to hold grudges, and she had never done so with him. They were unnecessary, as she thinks she would forgive him no matter what he does (to her or otherwise). Therefore, she took a moment to choose her words carefully; perhaps if their relationship were better, she would be able to speak more comfortably around him. 

“You needn’t apologize. You are correct: once you ascend to your role as the patriarch, you will have even more enemies.” Her tone becomes more assertive, “Rest assured, I will be the one to dirty my hands and cut them down if they oppose you.”

 “I still should let you speak.” He stared back at the ceiling,  “You said something like that before, ‘Someone’s blood is my hand now’. What were you gonna say after that?”

“Simply...that it would be wise to detach yourself from what you’ve done. Regret is futile, but to associate this with any kind of pleasure is dangerous as well. If you let Sato haunt you it will be as if you never killed her at all.”

“I-Is that what you do?”

Peko eyes darted across the roof above them as if looking for something that wasn’t there. She was a child the last time she gave too much thought into her first assassination; she’s more ashamed for allowing her emotions to seep through than the killing itself. 

“I don’t feel anything when I do. Not anymore.”  

“When was the first time,” Why does he keep pushing her about this, “That you killed someone?”

How could she forget, “When Mr.Hiromitsu notified Lord Raiden that his team identified our kidnappers, I was instructed to dispose of them.” 

He could only stare horrified at her. How does one respond to that? To be told that the person laying next to you, who you grew up with and were closer to anyone else in this world, had been turned into a murder at the age of six. He knew his father wasn’t a saint and in fact might have been the devil himself, but there was something particularly putrid about involving children with his bloodthirst. What was the point of having a code if the boundaries were blurred altogether? Sure, Peko had stained her hands with blood now, but what was his father hoping to accomplish by sending her out to do something so dangerous at the age of six? What if Peko failed and died? Did his father, or his mother for that matter, think they could just replace her without him noticing or caring? His parents should be smarter than that. His parents should know... 

He might have been foolish enough to fear her as children, but they should have known how worse everything would have turned out if they let her die.

 “Young master, I am sorry for my failures on that day.” Her voice brought him back before he spiralled into an abyss.

 “Huh?! Peko, what the hell are you talking about? We’re both still alive ‘cause you were the only one who had any sense left.” 

The swordswoman sat up, feet swinging onto the floor— he couldn’t see the expression she was making, but he didn’t need to know she was blaming herself. Again.

 “My inability to control my emotions worsened our predicament. If I had controlled myself as I was supposed to,” Her fingers gripped the yukata, red eyes dulled and downcasted, “Then perhaps we would have returned to the manor sooner. If I kept my head clear…it is my fault we were lost in those woods for so long.”

He quickly sat up, “Peko, we were six! I’m pretty fuckin’ sure any normal six year old-- hell, any normal person would have also been scared out their fuckin’ wits. Weren’t you just on my case about letting shit go?”

“That is…” What he didn’t expect was for her to turn to him with a pained expression; somewhere along the lines of pleading, regret, and shame all bundled into eyes that once, unwillingly, struck fear into him, “I’m...not...a normal person, I’m-- I am my young master’s tool, a tool to protect you and to kill for you. That is my only purpose. I should never make you doubt your safety. This also means that I must protect what is precious to you, and Lady Natsumi...if I were not so useless she would still be alive and you would not have dirtied your hands.” 

It returned again: the heavy feeling in his chest that was filled with remorse and his self-loathing. He knew she was right, but not in the way she thought. How many times had he pushed for her to be independent of him, to express her opinions and insight? Then, the one time she did as he asked he proceeded to not only dismiss her altogether, but brushed off her rightful concerns for Natsumi’s adjustment into Hope’s Peak. He knew his sister better than anyone, knew the type of trouble she would get into in a normal high school; sure she could throw her weight around ordinary bastards, but this school had its fair share of freaks and superhumans. He also knew that she had Peko run her a few favors (both normal and yakuza related), so it would only be natural for the swordswoman to investigate her transfer even if had no desire of doing so. 

“You...you can’t blame yourself; you were just following my orders. Natsumi was my responsibility and mine alone, and I fucked it up by not checking in on her.” 

But Peko, as stubborn as Fuyuhiko, would not hear it.

“Sir, you mustn’t blame yourself. If I were a tool capable of being trusted, then I am sure your orders would have been different.”

“Why don’t you get it already? Out of everyone in this world, you’re the only person I can trust. Everyone else is willing to kill me without a second thought.” It felt like he was suffocating, “You’re always putting my life first with no damn regard to your own. You're not invincible, Peko!”

“That is exactly why I intend to fulfill my purpose as your tool until I am a corpse at your feet.”

“Goddamnit, we are done with that crap!” He’s grateful that the room was sound proof, “I don’t want a tool! Tools can’t die. They become dull, they break, and you replace them, but they definitely cannot die. If some fucking rotten cunt smashed your skull in you’d die!”

“I-I wouldn’t let that happen, I assure--!” 

Peko’s eyes widened when he suddenly gripped her shoulders; shaking her not violently, but almost desperately as if she would have disappeared into thin air if he didn’t cling onto her that very moment. She had not realized the full look of anxiety and fear on his face until she fully met his stare for the first time that night.

“But you can’t know that,” His voice broke, “You can’t possibly fucking know that! What the hell’s the point if you’re dead?! Natsumi thought she was untouchable, that’s why she was all starting shit with everyone around her. And now what? Now we have to cremate her.”

Finally, his guard breaks and he rests his forehead on her shoulder,

 “So, please...stop saying you’ll protect me until the day you die. I don’t...you can’t expect to keep going with whatever life you give me. It’s not worth it, because if I have to bury you too—”

“...Young master?” Peko remained as still as she could; his voice was so weak that she feared he’d fade away from existence if she made any sudden movements. He was so close to her she was sure he could hear, if not feel, her erratic heartbeat-- not that he fared any better than her at the moment, of course. Since neither were the hugging type (at least not openly), the silver haired girl thought to support him through a light touch on his arms.  

“Please don’t leave me. I’m so afraid. I can’t do this on my own, Peko, I need you.”

Suddenly, his confession sparked a fundamental shift within the two. From her shoulders, Fuyuhiko’s hands now clung onto the fabric of her back leaning into her more, and Peko welcomed him without a second thought. Relying more on her instincts, one arm supported his weight while her other hand rested below the nape of his neck. An outsider looking in may think it a fond scene: two high school sweethearts expressing their love for another in the middle of the night. However, that sort of naivety could only last so long. What the outsider misunderstood was their embrace had not stemmed from affection or intimacy, but possession and obsession as they clung to one another.

In other words

“I will never leave your side, young master. There is no other place for me than by your side. If you wish for me to stay next to you for all eternity then that is where I shall stay no matter what. Even if the world turns upside down, I will stay beside you.” 

“Good.” He pries away from shoulder just to meet her ever intensive stare; it doesn’t affect him anymore (he welcomes it), “Peko, from now on it’s just you and me. Not as master and tool...just together, okay? We live together and we die together.”

“Then let us die of old age and nothing else.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

 Finally, they laid down embracing each other and fell asleep.

 ———

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

Grilled Cheese & Cereal Deaths

Dean unlocks the door to his apartment, his forehead resting against the wood and eyes closed in a calculative fashion as he turns his key in the lock.

He’s opened this door thousands of times before, and has collected enough data to reach the conclusion that he does it better when he’s not looking at it. His fingers know exactly what to do, relying on muscle memory and the grooves of the key; but when he’s looking, it takes him a minute to figure out which key is for which, since he’s got every key he owns attached to his purple-pink, rubber ‘I want to break free’ keychain.

Having to not pay attention as he’s unlocking the door allows him to start thinking about Cas again, as if he hasn’t been doing it all four hours of his drive back from Kansas. Cas should be awake right now, it’s only ten, but then he knows this is Cas, infamous for sleeping the weirdest hours known to man. One day, he’s snoring by five pm without a trace of dinner in him, and the next, he’s nudging Dean awake at three am for pancakes.

The lock clicks, and Dean straightens.

It’s only been three days since he’s seen Cas, but he misses him. He considers surprising him, because their door has a silent lock, which Cas wouldn’t have heard unless he’s in the living room - which he never is, unless Dean barters cuddles on the couch in exchange for a Dr Sexy watching partner. Cas is more of a bedroom person. Occasionally, a balcony person. Or, weirdly, sometimes, a hallway person.

Dude just settles cross-legged on the floor, in the middle of the hallway, with his book on his thighs and elbows on his knees, and doesn’t move until Dean almost trips over him, hence finding him, and nagging at him to at least sit on something with a mattress.

Fuck, he misses him.

Dean swings open the door, deciding not to think anymore, and just get to his boyfriend and kiss him and - he steps in. 

“I’m back!” He sings exaggeratedly, hands on his hips, giant grin pulling the corners of his lips up.

“Dean!” Cas yelps, his voice the kind of heavy only sleep deprivation can cause. Dean takes a moment to scan his face, the bags under his eyes and his slightly unfocused eyes. 

Cas’s eyes blink wide and lips completely pursed, like the child who was caught with his hand in the candy jar. But here, the proverbial jar is a stack of books so high - they come all the way up to Cas’s hip, beginning from a two-feet-high table, and the proverbial child is a panicky IT major who knows exactly how long ago he should’ve taken a nap.

Dean sets down his bag next to the door.

“Come here.” Dean lifts his arms, beckoning with a soft voice.

“It isn’t as bad as it looks,” Cas starts to argue, from five feet away. The idiot is in the living room, after all. How could Dean forget? He can also be found at the living room when he’s having one of his truly bad, must-do-everything-at-once episodes. “I swear, I just took out all of these books an hour ago, there’s just this thing which came up -”

“Come here.” Dean says, his mouth a straight line.

“You’re wrong if you think I haven’t slept in 24 hours, Dean.” Cas whines, his resolve lessening. “But I just had so much to do, and there’s this deadline, and there’s not even -”

“Come here.” Dean repeats.

Cas yields, giving up with a little huff, and dragging his socked feet across their living room.

He tucks his head under Dean’s chin, once he’s wrapped his arms around his middle, and Dean’s arms automatically move up to hold him close.

Most times, Dean doesn’t think it’s fair that Cas gets to alternate between being the larger in the two of them, with his wide-ass shoulders and his frigging arms; and the next instant, the adorable little snuggler who’s burying his face in Dean’s shirt.

But at the moment, Dean doesn’t mind it at all. In fact, he doesn’t mind it so much, that he stops thinking about everything else and spontaneously decides he wouldn’t mind if Cas never pulled away.

He squeezes, exhaling happily.

Cas lets out a content little sigh, melting into him, and Dean stops smiling for a moment when he realizes Cas is leaning all of his weight on Dean. And it’s not the fact that Cas is six feet tall, and built completely of concentrated snark and runner’s muscles, and that he’s heavy - but that Dean suddenly remembers that Cas hasn’t slept in 24 hours.

As he conveniently just confessed to.

“You need to sleep.”

Cas makes a disgruntled sound, possibly scrunching up his nose.

“I need to shower.”

Dean sniffs the air dramatically, and shrugs. It’s nothing he can’t handle. He doesn’t really think Cas has been up to jogging lately, and staying holed up in your second floor room with two semester worth of books for a project doesn’t exactly make you sweat, it’s not too unpleasant. Sure, stale clothes have a smell, but this one’s mostly just Cas.

“You need to eat.” Dean counters, and it’s probably a strong point he makes, since Cas doesn’t have a retort to throw back at him within the first second.

“That reminds me. We’re out of coffee,” Cas mumbles, in a little voice. “Didn’t know how I could text you to buy Nescafe when you were driving home two hundred and fifty miles.”

“What about the emergency stack you keep in the bedroom?”

Cas shakes his head. “I forgot to replenish that after the Great Scare of Preponed Papers, in September.”

“You’re every inch the college boy my mama warned me to look out for.” Dean teases, wriggling out of the hug, so that he can stare at Cas.

“And yet you’ve been living with me for years.” Cas returns, turning around and walking towards the kitchen. He plops down on a dining table chair, facing Dean.

“What can I say? You make me a rebel.” Dean scoffs, following Cas’s tracks to the kitchen, after he’s taken off his jacket and deposited it on the couch.

“Ooh, I’m even worse than I thought.” Cas deadpans, crossing his arms. And that ends it. Because there’s more important things to do, right now.

Dean opens the fridge, and starts to rummage through it.

“We’re out of honey, too.” Cas tells him, his chin propped in his hands, as he stares at a busy Dean.

“I can see that.” Dean rolls his eyes, and the almost empty milk carton is the only thing which sympathizes with him. “What kind of meals did you even have since friday, Cas? Honey and coffee? Or maybe, coffee and honey?”

Cas nods. “And ramen.”

“Fucking dumbass, with a 3.9 GPA to show for it.” Dean rolls his eyes again, done with going through the fridge, and closing the door with his elbow as he holds bread and cheese in his hands. “Well, doesn’t matter. Point is, I’m back. What do you want now?”

And before Cas could answer, Dean went on in a typical five star restaurant voice. “We have grilled formaggio. And grilled queso. And the chef’s recommendation, the grilled cheese.”

“Could I have grilled syr?” Cas asks, innocent.

“Lemme guess, Russian for cheese?” Dean confirms, in a dramatic stage whisper.

Cas’s eyebrows dance. “I missed you.” He mockwhispers back.

“You know what, I’ll have to pull some strings, but I think the chef will be able to manage that.” Dean returns to his grand waiter voice. And starts to unwrap the bread and pick out plates from the drawers, while Cas surprises him by beginning to talk.

“It’s a group project.” He begins, not sounding a tenth of the pumped up and clever from before. “For Professor Naomi Novak.” He groans, his head falling on his arms folded on the table.

“Okay?” Dean urges him to go on.

“And Balthazar bailed on me.”

***

Dean listens, as Cas eats. He occasionally offers words of sympathy, or those of righteous annoyance. He stares at Cas, wolfing down the sandwiches like they’re the best thing on the planet, and looking more and more okay as he finishes what’s on his plate.

Dean had had his dinner during what was supposed to be a fuel stop, at a motel who advertised their pies on unmissable banners hannging on every surface of the gas station. He couldn’t resist the temptation.

Thinking about that reminds him that just about an hour ago, he’d been in the last quarter of his drive, tired, but excited to get home. To Cas, to his shower and of course, to his mattress. Now, he doesn’t feel exhausted at all. Or perhaps, there’s just more important things around him. All in all, he knows he isn’t going to bed himself until Cas is going with him.

“Dean.” Cas interrupts his reverie, and Dean looks up to see him pushing away his plate, completely clean.

“Yeah?”

“Everything in the world except you and this grilled cheese sucks.” Cas declares, solemnly.

Dean grins, refocusing all his attention on Cas. “Oh?”

“Definitely.” Cas nods. He licks his lips, and rests back in his chair. “I mean, I know this’ll come as a surprise, but I think I was hungry or something.” He adds, feigning innocence, and Dean snorts. “I don’t know. Must’ve been the stress of the project I’ll never be able to complete in time, that made me overlook it.”

“Cas, listen to me.” Dean begins, reassuring. “The project will be done, Novak will not freak out, and you’ll ace through her class too. Everything’s going to work out.”

“How?” Cas asks, not as much ridiculous as it is desperate.

“You see,” Dean answers, his tone smooth. Well, sarcasm’s always been their language. “I have a brother.”

“Congratulations?” Cas squints, in a confused monotone.

“Nah, he’s not a pleasure to have or anything,” Dean shrugs, a grin on his hips. “But he’s dating someone.”

“Congratulations to him?” Cas offers.

“You don’t get it, smartass. The guy my brother’s dating, is Balthazar’s flatmate.” Dean waits for Cas to catch up. “So, all I have to do is talk to a few people, and I’ll know where to go find this weird-name guy.”

“Fuck.” Cas exclaims, stunned.

“No, Balthazar.” Dean smirks, and Cas is starting to smile much wider. “So, I’m going to get this jackass do his part of the job. And I’m sure as hell going to make him call you.”

“Oh!” Cas squeaks, eyes wide again. His face lights up with a smile, and it’s one of those genuinely gummy ones which make his eyes shine. Sonuvabitch, Dean loves him so much.

“So, yeah. I’m going to go call Sam, and get Baby out.” Cas practically radiates relief at this point, and happiness, and Dean has never been prouder of himself. “But,” He adds, before he forgets. “I have a condition.”

“What?” Cas cuts him off, abruptly. “And please don’t say you want me to go sleep, because I won’t be able to sleep until this is done, I’m too restless, and -”

“Fine.” Dean folded his arms. “Then eat.”

“I just did?” Cas motioned to his empty plate.

“Those were two sandwiches, Cas.” Dean huffs. “I need you to promise me you’ll eat the entire time till I’m back.”

“I don’t want to cook right now, I have to revise -” Cas starts to whine, and on another day, this may have been the moment Dean shut him up with a kiss, because he was being too annoying about not doing things for himself, but right now? This is a different Cas - a sleep deprived, fretty Cas, who needs to be handled in a different manner.

“I’m not asking you to cook.” Dean stands up.

Cas follows. “Huh?”

“I was just in the kitchen. We have cereal.”

“No.”

“Come on, Cas.” Dean argues, indignant. This is where they always end up. Debating on cereal. Dean’s got his facts clear. “Cereal’s a snack.”

“No, Dean. You’re a snack. I’m a snack. Arguably, Dr Sexy is a snack. Cereal is not a snack.” Cas throws back.

Dean glares at Cas. “You’ll eat your goddamn cereal until I’m home, Cas, or I swear on your coffee-freaky, sleep-deprived ass -”

“Okay.” Cas gives up. He takes a step back, puts his hands in the air, and lets out a breath.

“Okay?”

“Okay, I’ll eat it while I reread my notes.” Cas says, his eyebrows curved. There’s still a smile on his lips, though a more annoyed one.

Dean hums, unsatisfied.

“What?”

“Cereal needs your attention.” Dean postulates, tongue in cheek. “I really can’t have you choking on Honey Nut Cheerios.”

Cas levels him with a look, which would’ve been more effective if it wasn’t leveled at him through dark-circled eyes.

“That’s the opposite of an honorable death.” Dean goes on, sweet.

“Then in the obituary, let it be said that it was Cap'n Crunch.” Cas scowls, and Dean breaks into a laugh without meaning to. “And eating cereal isn’t a singleminded task, believe it or not.”

“Fine.” Dean lets it go, knowing it’s the best deal he’s going to get.

“Fine?” Cas says, like Dean had before.

“Fine. One for me, one for you.” And with that Dean throws his jacket on again, and starts to walk out, with a pleased smile. He’s going to make this work. And as he deals with Balthazar, Cas will keep eating. Two birds with one stone.

“Though,” Cas starts speaking, and Dean looks back, surprised at how soft his voice is. Cas is looking down at his feet. “This is more like, all for me, none for you.”

“Cas.” Dean shakes his head, returning to the dining table, and putting his hand on Cas’s.

“I mean,” Cas goes on, his voice shaky. “You literally came home after three days. And instead of talking about your trip, and your family, and taking a shower and getting in bed and resting after your four hour drive - you’re already completely immersed in solving my problems for me. I’m - I’m sorry.”

Dean purses his lips. He has not thought about it like this at all, and doesn’t want Cas to, either. “Cas, no -”

“No. I’m selfish and horrible, and I didn’t even stop you when you offered to cook for me and go get Balthazar to get in touch with me, or any of it - I’m just -”

“Cas.” Dean repeats, sterner. “That is not the case. I’m fine, okay? I’m absolutely fine. And you needed to eat, and you need this now, and I want to do it for you. You aren’t making me do this! And what the hell am I here for if not to be there for you, when you need it, Cas?”

“But -”

“And do you really think you telling me to not go would’ve stopped me from wanting to help you out?” Dean cocks his head, challenging Cas to agree.

Cas shakes his head.

“Exactly. In fact, you’re showing that you trust me enough to let you know when I’m tired and pushing my limits. You’re showing that our relationship has come to that kind of level, where though we mean the gratitude, concern and appreciation entirely, we aren’t always required to keep repeating it, and that’s growth, Cas, and I’m -”

Cas waits, his eyes starting to haze.

“I’m proud of us.” Dean finishes, swallowing. He feels his own throat start to clog up. Must be from watching Cas get teary, because they don’t usually end up crying every time one of them does something nice for the other.

“You’re everything I’ve ever needed.” Cas tells him, matter-of-factly, like it doesn’t pierce Dean through the heart in the best way to hear it.

“You’re pretty perfect, too.” Dean says, trying to avoid getting as sappy as Cas has already gotten. Cas gets to blame the lack of sleep later, what does Dean do then? “And please, please don’t feel guilty about me trying to be a good boyfriend, next time?”

“I’ll try?”

“We’ve come a long way.” Dean teases. “And if it makes you feel better, I’ll try to stop feeling guilty about it too, whenever you help me out with, I dunno, professors, college papers, buying durable things online, choosing gifts for friends, ice cream flavours I don’t like -”

“That’s enough.” Cas grins. “And, thank you.”

Dean slid his arm down from Cas’s forearm, to rest on his hip. His other hand snaked around Cas’s waist.

“Thank you for everything.” Cas says, like he’s tried to soak the meaning out of all the words into his voice, and it works.

“Yeah, yeah.” They just had a chick-flick moment, and Dean isn’t prepared for another one, so soon. So he does what he does best, and deflects, rolling his eyes dramatically. “People don’t call me the awesomest-roomate-ever-slash-ideal-bestfriend-slash-your-knight-in-shining-armor for nothing.”

“Nobody calls you that.” Cas snickers, putting his arms loosely around Dean’s neck. He’s doing that thing again, like the flipping of a switch, and now it’s Dean who’s probably going to end up with his face in Cas’s neck. Kissing him, though, this time.

“Hey!” He pouts, pulling Cas in closer from the waist. “I call myself that.”

“Yeah, I have no idea why you do that.”

Remember how before it wasn’t the moment to shut him up with a kiss? Dean repeals that statement now. It’s no longer valid, because Cas is being a little shit again. Plus, he’s being a little shit who doesn’t kiss Dean yet, just teases around it, and that’s not fair, right after they’ve had such a romantic moment, is it?

So Dean takes matters into his own hands.

“Shuddup, you overworked little asshole.” And leans in to capture Cas’s lips with his, and straightens with Cas following him, planting breathy kisses on every inch of Dean’s lips, while Dean tries to return the equivalent of the favor by running his hands over Cas, under his shirt.

Cas tastes like grilled, uh, keso - ignore them, that’s a game they’ve been playing for years - and love, though knowing Cas, that’s probably just honey - and in that moment, everything is exactly as it should be.

In that moment, Dean thinks to himself, kissing Cas with every fibre of his being; everything is perfect.

[brideofedoras]

Under Covers, pt 2

Rating: 18+

Warnings: mentions of masturbation, arousal and sex dreams

Word count: 2900+

Under Covers

Thank you all for the lovely responses to Under Covers, I know that surprise twist was evil of me (but I don’t regret it, it just felt right!).  I received a few requests for a part two, and a suggestion for it to be Cooper’s POV.

So... here is Uncer Covers, as told by Cooper...

And, because I’m just as horny for William Cooper, there will be a part three!  Mwuah!  Love all of ya!

@urban-trek-thru-middle-earth​ @emily-strange​ @nora-hewlett​ @to-boldly-nope​ @pandaqueen7799​ @bakerstreethound​ @portals-to-a-new-world​ @below-average-fangirl​ @writerdee1701​ @ladyreapermc​

Cooper reached for the travel mug in the console… but his fingers curled around nothing.  A quick glance away from the early morning traffic showed an empty cup holder.  “Well, that’s just typical,” he snarled grumpily.

His morning was off to a fan-fucking-tastic start, with a burnt Hot Pocket, his much-needed second cup of coffee forgotten on his desk at the office, and a restless night filled with some incredibly hot dreams of the only person he could one-hundred percent trust at work.

Ember.

She was a blessing, whether she knew it or not.  Quiet, intelligent, efficient, with an uncanny ability to anticipate his needs.  Beautiful.  Sexy.  A big flirt who had done a lot for his ego and self-esteem these past few months, and making him remember he was still a red-blooded man.

Last night’s solo sex on the back deck with a cigar and bourbon, fantasizing about having her on the glider swing or spread out on the patio table… bent over the deck railing…  

“Down, dammit,” he glared down at his crotch when he felt that familiar stir.  

Evidently that quick wank in the shower earlier hadn’t helped.  

God, he hated waking up horny.

It was going to be a dreadfully, painfully, long weekend, he thought as he signalled to pull into the parking lot for Ember’s apartment building.

When the file detailing the op landed on his desk he had immediately known he would assign Ember as his partner.  She did not have a lot of field experience, and had zero undercover experience, but she was a quick learner and self-sufficient.  He’d seen her wipe the floor during hand-to-hand combat training under Kordesky (he was supposed to be teaching that course, but at the time he’d been recovering from busted ribs from an op gone wrong).  Men three times her size hadn’t stood a chance.

It had both terrified him and turned him on.

But an entire weekend, maybe a tad longer, pretending to be a couple on a romantic getaway to nail a bad guy, with her…

Fuck, I’m screwed.

With a frustrated sigh he plucked his phone from the holder on the dash (strictly for GPS reasons) and pulled up the last text thread.

I’m outside.

His hazel eyes flickered to the old limestone building built in the ‘30s and remodeled, what, twenty years ago, into an apartment complex, wondering which part of the structure her apartment was in.  

His phone chirped in his hand.

Be down in a minute.

He groaned, his eyes dropping to his zipper once more.  I won’t.

If he survived the weekend, it would be a miracle.

He started to put the phone back on the clip when he realized he needed to tell her he wasn’t in his SUV.

Black Mercedes sedan.

Her response popped up a second later.  No Porsche?

He chuckled.  “No, no Porsche,” he mused out loud.  He’d thought about it, the sweet little Roadster the CIA had confiscated a while back.  Gorgeous car… but not ideal for a six hour drive to North Carolina.

Didn’t want to look like a man going through a midlife crisis, he texted back.

A classic sports car and a sexy young woman would most definitely make him look like he was.  Well… so would the Mercedes, but it drove like a dream and wouldn’t kill his back or ass for the long trip.

You’re too young for a midlife crisis.

“Oh, you’re flirting, Sweetheart,” he groaned.  He shook his head to clear it before pressing his hand hard against his crotch.  “Behave, dammit, stay down.”

He had no idea when he’d find the opportunity to handle that particular issue.  The little bungalow on the beach they’d be calling home for the next few days only had one bedroom.  Light, airy, lots of windows and a door opening out onto a veranda, a king size bed--

He pulled himself from his thoughts when he saw Ember step out of the building.

“Fuck.”

God damn was he screwed.

Ember was dressed in a snug, scoop neck tank top and cutoff shorts that showed off her long legs.

Legs he’d dreamed of wrapped around his hips.  Draped over his shoulders.  Hooked over his elbows.

“Now is not the time to rehash your favorite fantasies, William,” he scolded himself as he climbed out of the car.  He took the opportunity to adjust himself and straighten his plaid shirt to try to conceal the ridge in his jeans before he walked around to the trunk to open it.

Did she nearly trip over her own feet?

He kept that question to himself as he took her suitcase from her and stowed it next to his.  He carefully shut the lid before turning his attention on Ember.

“Get in the car, Kid.”

She immediately bristled before storming off.

Oh shit, he sighed heavily as he watched her yank open the passenger door.  He quickly rounded the car to climb into the driver’s seat.  “Easy there, Tiger,” he looked over at her.  “You okay?”

She shut the door and buckled up before taking in a deep breath.  

Yeah, Cooper, you hit the wrong damn button by accident, he realized.  Better salvage this and fast!

“Yeah.  Sleepless night.”  Her smile was faker than the phony IDs his buddy had made for them in high school.

Yup, wrong button.  

He frowned in sympathy.  “Worried about the op?”  He was giving her a bullshit excuse for her temper flareup and he knew it, but he also knew Ember would not admit him calling her “kid” had upset her.    

Her smile fell, allowing him to see how tired she was.  “You could say that.”

“You’ve got the easy job,” he reminded her as he started the car.  “Look pretty, flirt, be coy.”

Inwardly he flinched.  Wow, Cooper.  That was smooth.

“You call that easy?”  The blush staining her cheeks was downright adorable.  “I can’t flirt my way out of a paper bag if I tried!”

He grinned.  Either she’s in denial about flirting or she’s clueless that she’s a natural.

“‘Your tie brings out the gold in your eyes, Boss’ ring a bell?  Or ‘You’ve got a bit of powdered sugar on your cheek’?”

God, he could still feel her hand cupping his jaw and her thumb brushing over his cheekbone.

Her blush grew brighter.  “A compliment and a gentle warning before a meeting are hardly flirting!”

“You were flirting,” he grinned even more.  “And the plate of extra cookies left over from your Christmas dinner?”

“Figured your kids would like some cookies, and I had more than enough left over!”

Uh-huh.  A whole plate piled high with monster cookies, his favorite fucking kind?

“That’s what break rooms are for,” he couldn't help but chuckle.  “Pretty sure Sanderson would ask you to marry him if you bring baked goods in.”  

Please forgive me.

Ember shuddered and turned a little green.  “Pretty sure he lives in his parents’ basement.”

“Yeah, he has that personality,” he slowed for a stoplight.  “Not your type, then?”

Please say no.  You deserve so much better than him.  Or me.

“Have you ever heard me flirt with him?”

He busted out laughing at her sassy rebuttal.  There’s my girl, he struggled to get the mirth under control so he could speak again.  “No, no, I haven’t,” he shot her a look.  “You can give Wilkes a run for her money in the ice queen department when you’re dealing with him.” 

She finally smiled.  “I hope you’re giving me a compliment and not calling me a frigid bitch,” her own voice was laced with a touch of humor.

“She’s the frigid bitch and she wears that badge with pride,” he pointed out.  “She made Sanderson cry a couple of times.  You’re at least polite.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t be,” she mused.  “And I don’t flirt.”

Oh, Honey.

“‘You’re too young for a midlife crisis’?”  He struggled to keep another grin at bay.

“Not flirting!”  She twisted away from him.

But not before he glimpsed the splotching blush dotting her chest.

His mind went south before he could stop it.  Does she blush like that after an orgasm?

God dammit.

“What is it, then?”  He mentally shook himself to get his mind back on the conversation.  He winced when her head thumped against the window.

“The truth.  Thirty-five is still young,” she sighed.  “Age is only a number.  What matters is how you feel inside.  Take Grandpa-- er, Henry, for example.  He’s eighty-five, still working downstairs, running circles around the younger desk jockeys.”

“I need to find out what his secret is,” he joked.  Sometimes he needed more energy to make it through the day.

“No!”  Her voice squeaked.  “You don’t want to do that!”

His jaw dropped as he looked at her.  “Wait, he really has a secret?  What is it?”  He needed to know.

She blushed again.  “Nope,” she shook her head as if she were trying to shake off an unpleasant thought.  “It was bad enough overhearing it.  I’m not telling you.”

Oh.

Must’ve been something dirty if she was blushing like that.

“H-how long of a drive is it again?”

Did her voice just crack?

“Six hours if the traffic isn’t bad,” he answered.

“Straight through, no stops?” 

He chuckled.  “I’ll make a couple of stops, I’m not a monster.  You have breakfast yet?”  He glanced over to see her shake her head.

“There’s a coffee shop up ahead,” she pointed out.  “They have donuts and breakfast sandwiches.”

His stomach grumbled quietly.    “Any recommendations?”

“The omelette sandwiches are to die for,” she paused to cover her yawn.  “They come with sausage and cheese.  You’ve already had their donuts.”

His mind tripped back to the massive powdered sugar donut that had led to her soft touch that fateful afternoon.  His unintentional groan at that memory bordered on sinful.  “Might have to order a dozen for this weekend.”

“Better make it two dozen.  I’m not crawling out of bed before ten a.m. this weekend.”

No, down, he stubbornly told himself off at the images popping into his head.  “You’ve already claimed the bed, huh?”  He inwardly grimaced at the husky and teasing tone in his voice.  Who’s flirting now, Cooper?

“Figured it was a given since I’m a woman and you seem like the kind of guy who would take the couch.”

She had his number.  Damn, she really is good.  “Sweetheart, my back can’t take sleeping on couches even for a little catnap anymore,” he signaled to turn into the lot for the coffee shop.  

Liar, he ratted on himself.  He’d spent too many nights on the couch before Michelle asked for a divorce when she finally decided she couldn’t take being a CIA agent’s wife anymore.  If it weren’t for his kids he would not have gotten the couch for his new place.

“The bed’s a king, isn’t it?  We could share it.  I promise to be on my best behavior.”

He coughed to cover a strangled groan.  Share a bed with Ember?  All weekend?

Fuck.

“What?”  She asked.

“You’re flirting again.”

“No, I wasn’t,” she frowned at him.  “My brain loses its filter when I’m running on very little sleep.”

“Always an excuse,” he rolled his window down.  “What kind of coffee?”

“Just ask for the Emberleigh special, they’ll know.”

Cooper was pretty sure the barista, Tomer, was eye-fucking him.  Not the first time that had ever happened, but it sure as hell was the first time a guy was so bold about it.  And the not-so-subtle looks he was giving Ember were poorly hidden.  

Oh, yes, I’m gonna be the topic of conversation the next time she stops in, he chuckled to himself.  It was both amusing and flattering.

By the time they hit the freeway his two breakfast sandwiches were demolished and she was barely finished with hers.  He shifted to get comfortable.  Long trips by car were never fun, the miles monotonous and the seat unforgiving.  

Flying had not been an option.  The department could not justify using the jet for a weekend op, which left commercial flights.  He personally hated that option.  Checking weapons and other tools of the trade through security was a headache he did not want to deal with.  It was easier to drive.

“Should we go over the parameters again?”

It never hurt to go over plans a few times, and with this being Ember’s first undercover op he wanted her prepared.

The breathy “no” from her caught him off guard.

He shot her a quick glance.  “Seat reclines if you want to take a quick nap,” he swallowed the groan at the mental images of her stretched out on her back in that leather seat, him leaning over her…  He shifted in his seat when his jeans grew a little tight again.  “If you want to turn the radio on, go for it,” he cleared his throat (and his head).  “I listen to just about anything.  Except for the new crap.”

“Yeah, I can’t listen to that stuff, either.”

Thank god.

“I can Bluetooth my phone if that’s okay?”  She asked softly.

“Go for it,” he nodded.

When the opening guitar licks for one of his favorite songs began to play he grinned.

God, if this song wasn’t the ultimate euphemism for sex.  And the tempo.  Jesus Christ.

And the fact that Ember had the Scorpions on whatever playlist she had?  His crush on her grew that much more.

It reminded him of his high school days, his first car, T-tops off and cruising the strip rocking out to AC/DC, pretty girl in the passenger seat.

Sometimes he missed those days, not having any responsibilities other than keeping his grades up for football.  

He drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel and sang along off-key.  He found himself really getting into the music and tried to tone it down, but after catching Ember trying not to stare he decided to put his all into it.

And all bets were off when his favorite Def Leppard song came on.  

They played random road trip games when he wasn’t rocking out.  Counting state license plates.  Slug bug (or punch buggie as his little Katie loved to holler, especially when she saw the blue ones).  Billboard alphabet.  Count the road kill (gruesome but it worked).  I spy.

When she yawned for the tenth time in about as many minutes he realized why she was playing the games.  She was trying to stay awake despite repeated suggestions to recline the seat back and take a nap.  He even threatened to sing her to sleep.

She stubbornly insisted she needed to stay awake to help him watch traffic.

Somewhere along the way she did fall asleep.  He smiled to himself when she sighed in her sleep and shifted to get comfortable in her seat.  As carefully as he could he reached over to slip her sunglasses off and laid them on the dash.

No way was he waking her up any time soon.  She needed to rest up.  

He was humming along to “In The Air Tonight” and miming the drum solo above the steering wheel (it was a federal offense to not perform the drum solo) when a soft whine came from the passenger seat.  He quickly glanced over at the distressed sound.  “You okay over there?”  He pressed the button on the steering wheel to turn the volume down even more for the radio.

She shifted in her seat, head lolling toward him before a quiet snore reached his ears.  He chuckled and shook his head before he turned back to watch the road.  They were ten minutes from the nearest fast food restaurant and despite still being full from breakfast he needed to go to the bathroom and stretch his legs.  He just didn’t have the heart to wake Ember up quite yet.

A few minutes later she drew in a deep breath and moaned.

That moan sounded suspiciously like his last name.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened.

Ember shifted and moaned again.  “We… shouldn’t…”

He felt his cock begin to stir at the soft little sounds coming from her.  Sounds he had fantasized about more than once.

“Oh… god…” she squirmed.

Fuck, his jeans were uncomfortably tight.  Cooper flipped the turn signal and checked his mirrors before exiting the freeway.  

Her moans and gasps were more frequent now, with his name whined out a few times.  He drew in a shaky breath, that last guttural moan damn near making him cum right there.  

It would be cruel to wake her up, he thought as he pulled into McDonald’s parking lot.  But he could not sit in the car and listen to her have a sex dream about him.

“Oh… god… Cooper…”

The way she was panting.

The way his cock was throbbing dangerously.

He hated himself, for having no choice but to listen to her pretty little sex dream sounds and for waking her up before she could…

No.  Do.  Not.  Think.  About.  It.

“Ember,” he gently squeezed her shoulder before he chickened out.  “Wake up, Sleepyhead,” he murmured gruffly when she blinked her eyes open.  “We’re stopping for lunch.”

She looked disoriented, and he kicked himself for interrupting that dream.

He pulled away, breaking contact before his body could overrule his brain and pounce on her.  “I’m surprised you fell asleep with my singing.  Never worked on my kids when they were little.”

When she remained quiet he looked over.  “No comment?”  

“No!”  Damn, that blush was beautiful on her.  “N-no, I… I guess a smooth car ride combined with a sleepless night put me to sleep.”

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” he agreed as he pocketed the keys.  “Come on, I’ll buy you lunch.”

[hateswifi]

Rising from the Ashes: Of Titus and Twitter

So this is Part Four here is to my Master List and Part Three. Enjoy!!

-------------------------------------

She’s blinded by the light as the portal closes, at least she came out in an alley much less conspicuous than teleporting in the open. She looks at her phone, one in the afternoon that’s enough time to figure out where she is and a place to stay for tonight. She spoke English well due to traveling with Uncle Jagged, hanging out with Clara, and working at Gabriel. 

She walks out of the alley after she detransforming, but still wears the glasses not wanting to put them away yet. She pulled out her phone and looked up ‘Hotels near me’ the closest hotel at a decent price was Hotel of Gotham. She quickly started walking there it only being one o’clock and it was only a three-mile walk. 

The walk was uneventful and by the time she gets there, it was one-forty-five. She bought a hotel room for ninety-five dollars a night. She dropped her stuff off and went to try and find a job. She brought her sketchbook and one of the dresses she had made when she had been hiding the previous week. 

She walked into a couple of boutiques and was immediately rejected already having a full staff. She does not lose hope though instead, she looks at the list of boutiques she had written and sighed, the last one. She finds it and by the time she gets there, it’s already six o’clock. She had been job hunting for around four hours. She looks up and sees the boutique called Lucky Spot. Marinette has a great feeling about this one she opens her purse and sees Tikki. 

“You’re going to be great!” She whispered. With restored confidence, Marinette heads into the boutique with her head held high. 

“Hello madame,” Marinette said after she walked to the front. “My name is Marinette and I was hoping to speak with your boss about maybe getting a job?”

“Well, here I’m the boss. What do you have to show to prove to me that you are worthy to work here?” The woman asked, looking Marinette up and down. 

“I have sketches and this dress I made by hand last week,” she said, setting her stuff on the counter. 

“Would you be able to wait till closing time? It’s only an hour away,” The woman asked, looking at her watch. 

“Of course where would you like me to wait, Madame,” Marinette asked, grabbing her things. 

“You can wait in the back, I’ll come to talk to once I’ve closed,” she answered, showing Marinette. 

Once she was alone she sighed in relief. She grabbed her phone and dialed Chloe’s number. Chloe had promised to stay with her friends tonight when she called. 

“Hey, guys!” She said, quietly. 

“Hey, where’d you end up?” Luka asked, looking at her.

“I’m in a city called Gotham. I don’t know much about. I’m at a boutique right now called Lucky Spot waiting to talk to the owner about a job. That pretty much sums up what I’ve done today,” Marinette told them. “I’m so tired.”

“Well, it is ten o’clock here. If I were you I would learn about the city,” Kagami said. 

“I will when I get back to the hotel. Tikki is such a great support system for me and always helping me. I don’t think I would be as alright as I am right now,” Marinette smiles, looking at her little companion. 

“Awww Marinette you’re strong by yourself! I only helped a bit,” Tikki cooed, looking at her chosen. 

“Tikki is right Mar. You’re stronger than you know,” Adrien comforts. 

“I know you’ll do big things in this world. Everyone will know your  name!” Chloe encourages. 

“Thank you, guys! Now don’t worry about me. Go to bed I know it’s late there,” Marinette said with a smile. 

“You’re never a burden,” Luka smiled. 

She looked up when she heard a knock. The woman, who would hopefully become her boss, walked in with a smile. 

“Bye guys! The owner is here. I’ll call you soon I promise. I’ll keep you updated on what happens. Love you all,” Marinette finished, hanging up as her friends said goodbye. 

“Who are they?” She smiled, softly. 

“My friends from France,” Marinette smiles at her friends happy she was able to talk to them. 

“Well, now can I take a peek at your work?” The woman said, sitting down on the other side of the table. 

“Yes and by the way I never caught your name,” Marinette said, passing her book s and dress across the table. 

“My name is Diana Prince. It’s nice to meet you Marinette,” Ms. Prince said, looking at the girl. She had felt something familiar about her since Marinette had walked in. Then she had heard Marinette on the phone with her friends and distinctly heard the name Tikki. She hadn’t heard Tikki’s names since she had been back home with her mother, a previous owner of the creation miraculous. 

Marinette sat there waiting it felt like ages but had only been thirteen minutes. 

“Ms. Marinette these are quite wonderful, but may I ask why you come to me with your talent when I’m sure any of the big businesses would hire you,” Ms. Prince asked. 

“I’m going to tell you this but not for sympathy. I lived in a bakery in Paris for my first eighteen years, but my parents died in a fire. I’m not liked very much by my old classmates because of a liar, who turned my friends and classmates against me, and my parents were my only family, so I decided to leave. My friends are supportive and I love them a lot, but I couldn’t have any attachments there so I’m only keeping contact with them,” Marinette started. “I was affiliated with Gabriel, Audrey Bourgeois, Jagged Stone, and Clara Nightingale, but I want to leave everything behind including my connections with them. I was unable to start from the bottom because Jagged found me as a middle schooler and decided my designs were ‘Rock and Roll’. He then recommended me to them, so I never actually started from the bottom.”

“That’s very noble of you, but I feel as though there is something you’re not telling me. I won’t push you, but if you need someone to confide in, I can help. You have the job, by the way, you may start this Wednesday at seven o’clock sharp if that works. I have a couple of clients I will need help with,” Ms. Prince explained, standing up and shaking Marinette’s hand. 

“Thank you, Ms. Prince, you have no idea how much this means to me. I had been searching for jobs since I got here at one,” Marinette said with a smile. “Is there anything I should know about the city?”

“Please call me Diana. But also you moved to Gotham without any research?” Diana asked, looking flabbergasted. 

“I let fate decide,” Marinette answered, vaguely. 

“Oh well, I recommend you look up Gotham’s heroes and villains when you get a chance,” Diana said, leading Marinette from the backroom to the main shop.  

“Maybe that’s why I’m here. After all, fate works in mysterious ways. It was a pleasure meeting you,” Marinette said, leaving the small shop with a smile.

The next day was Tuesday and she tried to sleep in late, but with Paris being six hours ahead she woke up at six. She decided to go to the closest park which happened to be Gotham Public Park which doubles as a dog park. 

She left Tikki to sleep and placed a plate of cookies out for her before she left. She took her sketchbook with her and sat on a bench and started sketching. After about half an hour she guesses she hears a dog bark. She ignores it at first until she’s tackled by said dog. 

“Titus! Get off the pretty girl!” A man, presumably Titus’ owner, screamed. The black Great Dane dropped a red ball by her feet which she picked up and threw while yelling fetch. 

“I’m so sorry miss, Titus rarely acts up like that,” Titus’ owner says, sitting down next to her. 

“It’s fine I wanted to have a dog since I was young, but lived in a bakery and wasn’t allowed to,” Marinette answered closing her sketchbook. 

“My name is Damian and this,” He said, pointing at Titus. “is my faithful companion Titus. I guess I just never taught him how to interact with an angel-like girl.”

“Well I’m Marinette,” she blushed, adorably. “I’m average though. I already forgave you and Titus you don’t have to compliment me.”

“Well truth be told, I never act like this. I’m quite shocked I’m even talking to you. Most people would be gone by now,” Damian confesses. ‘Shut up before she—‘

Marinette giggles at the sight of the flustered boy. He looks hurt so she quickly says. “I’m not laughing at you you’re just adorable when you’re, what I’m assuming, is nervousness.”

“I’m sorry if this is straightforward, but would you like to grab breakfast? I know a small cafe,” Damian said. “You know as an apology for Titus’ behavior.”

“That would be nice. I don’t know anything about the city, but do you think we could stop at my hotel? I want to drop off my book,” Marinette asked, standing. ‘and grab Tikki’. 

“Where are you staying?” He asks also standing. 

“Hotel of Gotham just a five or so minute walk,” Marinette answered. 

“Of course, would you like me to walk with you?” Damian asked. 

“That would be lovely. I haven’t quite learned my way around yet,” Marinette said, walking towards the park’s entrance with Damian by her side. 

She dropped off her sketchbook, told Tikki what happened and then left with Tikki in her purse. She sees Damian still in the lobby when she got back. 

“Hey Mari, you ready?” He asked, opening the door.

“Yes of course,” she said with a smile and they headed to the cafe. 

When they got there Damian ordered for both of them, Marinette not knowing what was good or not. He had decided on waffles with strawberries and whipped cream for her. He had ordered himself black coffee and an egg sandwich with cheese and bacon. 

“Have you seriously not had waffles before?” Damian asked as she took her first bite. 

“My mama and papa owned a bakery so we usually just ate pastries,” Marinette smiles. “But this is incredibly good.”

“So you said you’re just adjusting to Gotham where’d you live before this? What made you want to live in the most dangerous city in America?” Damian asked, sipping his coffee. 

“I lived in Paris up to yesterday. I’m currently staying in the hotel till I can find an apartment. And about moving to the most dangerous city in America. I let fate lead me,” Marinette said, taking another bite. 

“Fate? But isn’t that a big decision?” Damian asked, raising an eyebrow while sipping his coffee. 

“Well I guess, but I didn’t have an idea of where to go, I felt lost and I ended up here, but I was able to get a job already so fate is watching over me. What about you?” Marinette asked, taking a sip of water. 

“My mother gave me to my father at the age of ten and he lived here and we just never moved. What job did you get?” Damian asked, taking a bite of his sandwich. 

“This nice woman, Diana, hired me to work in her boutique and she said I could start tomorrow. I’ve wanted to design since I was young,” Marinette sighs. 

“Well I’m happy for you,” Damian said as the waiter put the check on their table. Marinette tried to reach for it, but Damian grabbed it before she could grab it. 

“Nope. Remember this is an apology for Titus,” Damian said, looking down at his dog, who was sitting under the table quietly.

As they are leaving, Damian gets a call he looks down and sees Dick’s name flash across his screen. “I apologize Marinette, but I must get going. I hope I can see you again.”

Then he rushes off Titus following shortly behind. About a block and a half away he gets into a car with Dick and Alfred, who was driving.

“Good day, Young Master,” Alfred greeted as he closes the door. 

“To you as well Alfred. What do you want Grayson? I was busy,” Damian asked, glaring at his adopted brother. 

“You’re late for a mandatory meeting. Also,” Dick pauses, a smile forming on his face. “have you checked Twitter recently?”

“I knew about the meeting and I wasn’t going to be late,” Damian huffed, crossing his arms. “I haven’t checked Twitter today, why?”

“Someone posted a picture of you holding a door for a very beautiful bluenette. Jason reposted with the #DemonSpawn’sgirlfriend and now it’s trending,” Dick smirked. 

All color left Damian’s face and he whipped his phone then clicked on his Twitter. His face somehow got paler. There was a picture of him and Marinette, he was smiling at her as he held open the hotel door. 

@GothamOfficialNews

‘Who is this mysterious girl, who somehow caught Damian Waynes’ attention. He has previously been known as the ‘Ice Prince’, but is there someone out there able to melt his heart? Who is she? We need answers!’

@realJaSonToDd

‘Look it: Demon Spawn got a girlfriend. They grow up so fast *wipes tear*. She’s adorable when can we, @GraysontheDick @BruceWaynetheOffcailMan @TimDrakeConfirmed, meet her?’

@whyisthislife

‘how come it couldn’t have been me,  @realDamianWayne?’

@stresseyandmessy

‘She’s too precious for him. also how do we know they’re dating?’

@lifebevibing

‘@stressyandmessy did you read what posted @realJaSonTodD. he said gf. ‘

@stressyandmessy

‘@lifebevibing @realDamainWayne hasn’t said anything about his mystery girl.’

Damian felt like dying. He liked Marinette, a lot. She didn’t act weird around him, she had dreams, she didn’t throw herself at him, she likes Titus, and he hadn’t gotten her number. Wait... he hadn’t gotten her number. 

“Crap. I didn’t get her number,” he slouches in his seat. 

“Mystery girl’s?” Dick asked, looking shocked. “You spent all morning with her and you didn’t bother to get her number?”

“I didn’t think of it! I was going to ask before you called,” he puts his face in his hands. 

“Ya know you could do a Cinderella thing?” Dick suggests, scooting closer to Damian. 

“No. That would be so embarrassing. I only met her once,” he pauses, flushing as he thinks of her giggle and her deep blue eyes. “No, I couldn’t do that. She doesn’t know I’m one of Bruce Wayne’s sons. I would like to keep it that way. I don’t think she would change though.”

“Are you blushing? She must be some girl,” Dick teased. 

“Ughh you don’t need to remind me,” he sighs. 

“Well pull yourself together, we are about to arrive at the meeting,” Dick said, patting Damian’s shoulder.

-------------------------------------------

Tag list (Open):

@northernbluetongue @melhuney @ladysblackcat @sturchling @otaku4312 @g-arya @smolplantmum @bluefyoto94 @echpr @moonlightstar64@thesunanditsangel @cutechip @heaven428 @elmokingkong @kass-is-weird @niza13149 @urbanpineapplefarmer

[molanran]

april story - kang taehyun

summary: he was the one that got away.

word count: 3.3k

now playing: renee’s song - bazzi & transatlanticism - death cab for cutie & the one that got away - katy perry

taehyun couldn't wipe away the fake smile on his face as he carried box after box into his new home. chaewon walked by, chatting busily to someone on her phone, taehyun didn't really care. he could only watch her silently as she retreated into their shared bedroom, finally expelling the breath that he'd been holding.

he was doing the right thing, this is what he was meant to do. his parents had set him up with chaewon, insisting that he'd need someone befitting of his status as an heir to a company. they constantly reassured him that it's his job to listen to them, that he should be jumping up and down in excitement because he's making them proud. chaewon didn't seem to mind the engagement and tried her best to be friends with the young heir, but their relationship had never progressed anywhere past acquaintances.

taehyun and chaewon had been engaged for five years now, becoming engaged when taehyun had turned twenty-three. their wedding was only a couple of weeks away.

taehyun slowly pulled out book after book, fitting them in perfectly on the bookshelf. he continued the dull task until he had come across an old photo book, scribbles from his high school self visible on the cover. he tried to shake away the memories associated with the book, lining it up with the rest of the books only for it to fall to the ground, opening to the front page.

he couldn't help but stare fondly at the two boys present in the photo. there was a black-haired boy with his arm around a slightly taller blonde boy. the black-haired boy had a relaxed smile on his face, holding up a peace sign while the blonde had his eyes locked on the other male. their faces had taken up the majority of the shot, zooming in on the two's closeness.

taehyun fell to his knees, running his fingers softly over the photo. a warm feeling enveloped his being as he found himself lost in his memories.

--

taehyun couldn't help but notice the new kid stumbling around the hallway, his camera flopping around from his neck haphazardly. even when the new kid had finally reached his locker, it seemed luck wasn't on his side, because he was promptly shoved aside by a larger senior who had ignored the smaller male. taehyun watched anxiously as the new kid didn't move from the floor, instead,  sighing as his shoulders drooped, checking the state of his camera. he couldn't help but feel sorry for the other, ignoring his friend's idle chatter as he strode over.

"are you okay?" taehyun offered his hand to the fallen kid, sending the other male a soft smile. the new kid looked surprised but took his hand anyway, pulling himself up to a standing position. he looked to see that the large kid was already gone, leaving himself and the blonde kid beside his locker.

"i'm fine, thanks." the new kid bowed his head slightly in thanks. taehyun couldn't help but notice the slight height difference, barely standing taller by an inch.

"i'm taehyun kang, if you need some friends, you can come and sit with me and my friends if you want?" taehyun extended his hand before he could stop himself.

"i'm m/n bae," as if he wasn't cute enough, taehyun quickly found out m/n's adorable eye smile. "and i'd like that, thank you."

"no problem, it's always scary starting at a new school." taehyun found himself talking nervously, feeling his palms become slightly sweaty.

"is it too soon to ask for a picture?" m/n held up his camera shyly. "my parents would never believe that i made friends on the first day..." m/n quickly kept talking, ranting just as nervously as taehyun.

"it's completely fine." taehyun cut off the smaller male before he ran out of breath. he couldn't help but smile at the other's dazed expression and blushing exterior. he quickly moved their faces together, ignoring the small pitter-patter of his heart as a flash went off.

taehyun switched his gaze to m/n, who held up a peace sign, paying no attention to the blonde's gaze on him.

--

chaewon walked by behind taehyun, her footsteps unable to be unheard. she peeked over his shoulder to see him looking at his ex-boyfriend, feelings of sympathy welling up within her. she carried on walking outside, taking another phone call.

taehyun ignored his wife-to-be's presence, finding solace in the memories and flipping to the next page. a shot of himself and m/n caught in a lip lock, surrounded by a flurry of rose petals.

--

"but what if they say no?" m/n complained, feeling tempted to run his fingers through the hair that sooyoung had just finished styling meticulously. the blonde quickly swiped the dark-haired male's hand away, running his own hand through m/n's hair.

"m/n, i don't know if you noticed but you look absolutely amazing." taehyun smiled, fixing m/n's tie. taehyun had to admit, the slightly other male had cleaned up very nicely, but he couldn't help the punch of jealously he felt in his chest. "whoever decides to reject your offer tonight is an absolute idiot." taehyun finally finished the last loop, smiling in satisfaction.

"are you sure i look okay? sooyoung, what do you think?" sooyoung looked up from her position on his bed, repositioning her gaze from m/n's camera to m/n's lithe figure. she was constantly amazed by the other's beauty, even feeling jealous herself because m/n was infinitely cuter than she was.

"you look absolutely smashing, m/n." sooyoung whooped in delight, taking a picture with the camera.

"and now the last thing you need for a successful confession," taehyun pulled out a bouquet of roses from sooyoung's bag, placing them delicately in m/n's hands. they cost quite a hefty amount if taehyun was being completely honest. "prom's in an hour so you better ask out whoever it is right now." taehyun took m/n's face into his hands. "you can do this, okay?"

m/n smiled at him gratefully, leaving the room, shutting the door behind him. taehyun looked at the door regretfully, bowing his head, having missed his chance to take his crush to prom.

"i should've asked him," taehyun took a seat next to sooyoung on the bed, leaning his head on her shoulder. "i had my chance and i missed it."

"i think you need to have more faith in him, taehyun." sooyoung smiled. a knock was heard, taehyun opening the door to find m/n standing with the roses in hands.

"is everything okay, m/n?"

"everything will be fine if you be my date tonight taehyun," m/n smiled charmingly, holding out the roses in front of him. taehyun could only look at him with a shocked expression on his face, barely able to choke out a confirmation. "so is that a yes?"

taehyun snatched the roses out of m/n's hands, throwing them into the air, grabbing his best friend's face and kissing the life out of him. m/n recovered quickly, reciprocating the kiss just as passionately. their lips slotted together perfectly, sending electricity through both of their bodies. m/n ignored the flash from the side, focusing on every bit of emotion running through his body. taehyun pulled away first, feeling every bit breathless as m/n looked at him affectionately.

"as much as i'm happy for you guys, i don't appreciate feeling like a third wheel here." sooyoung tried to tease them but couldn't help the smile making its way across her features. she walked forward, hooking an arm around each male's and dragging them outside. "now let's go. the limo's here."

even though sooyoung stood between them, taehyun and m/n had hearts in their eyes as they stared at each other.

--

taehyun ran his hand through his hair nervously, trying to stop the onslaught of tears welling up within him.

"your parents rang," chaewon's voice called out from behind him. he turned around slowly from his position on the floor, willing his tears away. "your suit fitting has been moved a week away because the designer's mother had fallen sick and now she's in hospital. but now we've got to go to the wedding cake tasting tomorrow. is that alright?" chaewon asked, stiffly polite in her question.

taehyun nodded wordlessly, returning to his previous position. chaewon bit her lip before vacating the house once again.

flipping over the page, there was a loose paper that floated outwards. taehyun opened it, revealing a polaroid of himself and m/n. it depicted himself and m/n underneath a mistletoe, holding each other.

--

the party was in full swing, everybody had already gotten mostly drunk. m/n could hear sooyoung's high pitched laughter from his position on the porch, making himself comfortable on the rocking chair. convincing sooyoung's parents to let her host the party was difficult. they were only swayed because m/n had told them he would be sober the entire night and because they trusted him more than sooyoung.

being the wannabe matchmaker she is, sooyoung had insisted on hanging up mistletoe above every available doorway in the entire house. even in the doorway of the bathroom. m/n originally had no problem with it, until some girls started getting awfully close to taehyun, trying him to lure him under any available mistletoe they could find. m/n tried to push down the green monster that was trying to make an appearance, retreating outside to get his wits about himself.

he let out a deep breath, watching as it disappeared off into the cold night. rubbing his hands together, m/n instead focused on the way the snowflakes floated gently to the ground, letting his thoughts drift towards taehyun.

"here you are," taehyun called, leaning on the doorway. m/n smiled as taehyun closed the door behind him, taking up a seat right next to his best friend.

"here i am," m/n nodded, returning his gaze to the falling snow. even though they had gone to prom together and shared a kiss on those many nights ago, their relationship had never changed. they still treated as each other as best friends, both of them too scared to address their feelings. taehyun shuffled closer, breathing into his hands, trying to warm them up.

instead of putting them in his pockets, taehyun grabbed m/n's hand, squeezing their fingers together tightly. m/n stiffened, but quickly relaxed, turning to lean his head on taehyun's shoulder. m/n puckered his lips on top of taehyun's neck, tickling the other.

"what was that?" taehyun asked, a serene smile gracing his lips.

"i said, i don't want to share you." m/n admitted. "i don't want those girls being around you while i'm here. you're supposed to be mine."

"silly m/n," taehyun patted m/n's cheek softly. "you're the only person my eyes go to. of course, i'm yours, but that also means you're mine, understand?" m/n nodded wordlessly, sitting up properly but squeezing taehyun's fingers tightly before staring into his eyes.

it seemed to become their thing, staring into each other's eyes. m/n had already admitted that he enjoyed it a lot. he enjoyed the feeling of looking at the one person in the world who makes him feel like a better person and having that person staring back at them in the same way.

a soft click broke them out of their lovestruck gaze, sooyoung shaking the polaroid picture. when it finally developed, she handed the picture to m/n.

"i'm so glad you're both so happy," sooyoung smiled softly, giving them both pecks on the cheek before returning to the party inside.

m/n looked at the picture carefully before taehyun's fingers tipped his chin up, locking their lips together lovingly once more.

--

taehyun felt his mind breaking apart as he ran his fingers over the polaroid, caressing it ever so gently. he kissed his fingers and placed them upon the picture, before setting the photobook aside to recollect his thoughts. he had half a mind to run away right this moment, to find m/n and restart his life with his soulmate at his side, but he couldn't do it. his mood dropped once more as he tried to resume his previous task of filling the bookshelf.

taehyun ignored the comforting hand that appeared on his shoulder, shrugging it off as quickly as it came. there was a hum of disapproval behind him before a kiss was placed delicately on his cheek, the footsteps behind him growing fainter and fainter. his eyes widened as his body erupted into a full blush, his entire being heating up. but when he turned around, there was no one there.

his eyes couldn't help but land on the open photo book on the ground, eventually returning to his previous position. with every memory he relived, his heart broke a little every time. he could feel his heart shattering as he turned to the back cover, a silver ring resting in a small compartment of the book.

--

"are you cheating on me?" m/n asked, not trying to tip-toe around the subject, leaning up from his position on taehyun's chest. the morning sun had just appeared, its rays of light illuminating taehyun's small bedroom. taehyun tried not to look offended, even if he did look like a gaping fish.

"no?" taehyun's voice croaked, still scratchy from just waking up. "i mean, i'm pretty sure i'm not."

"okay, that's good." m/n seemed satisfied with that answer, shrugging his shoulders and rolling off the other's body, much to taehyun's displeasure. taehyun unsuccessfully tried to pull the other male back into bed, his grasp failing by a few centimeters. m/n ignored his lover's struggle, hanging his legs off the side of the bed as he reached into his bag and pulled out a small box.

taehyun rubbed his eyes lazily as he sat up, watching his love with content eyes. m/n soon returned, taking a seat directly in front of his love with his legs crossed.

"so, i've been thinking..." m/n twiddled the box nervously in his fingers. "we've been together for four years now. we met when we were fifteen and i've never looked at someone and thought, 'he's going to be my boyfriend, i wonder what it'd be like if his lips were on mine', until i met you. and then when we became best friends, i felt like you were my good-luck charm. you were there when i got top of the class, you were at my first dance recital, you were the first person i thought of when i could choose who to spend my birthday with. i'm sorry, i'm not meant to be getting this sappy."

m/n sniffled, rubbing at the unshed tears in his eyes. taehyun smiled softly, reaching forward to peck m/n's check. he laced their fingers together and squeezed gently, urging his love to continue.

"you were the first person i thought about when i woke up and the last person i thought about at night. you're everything i've ever needed. taehyun kang, you are my best friend, the person i can always lean on, the one absolute person i know i can count on; you're the love of my life and i never want to spend another moment without you. i know we're a little too young to be married, but i was hoping that you could be mine in a more official way?"

m/n opened the box to reveal a silver ring. it was designed simply and elegantly, its most defining feature is the phrase carved out on both sides.

'my best friend, my lover, my everything'.

"how am i meant to top that when we get married?" taehyun sighed exasperatedly, flopping back on the bed. m/n smiled as taehyun quickly got back up again and planted a soft peck on his lips. "but to be completely honest, it looks like we had the same idea." he reached into the bedside drawer and pulled out a small leather box, opening it to reveal a simple gold ring.

m/n smiled brightly, setting the ring down on the drawer and leaping forward into taehyun's arms, connecting their lips together. they kissed and the world stopped turning because it couldn't bear to interrupt such a sweet moment. it was slow and comforting, passionate and powerful just like taehyun. when it heated up, intense and strong, reliable and loving just like m/n.

when the need for air becomes too great, they finally broke apart, their breaths mingling with one another.

"we've never said this before but," taehyun blushed brightly. "i love you."

"i love you too." m/n replied lovingly before his lips descended on the others.

--

taehyun finally let himself break down, tears streaming down his face uncontrollably. how could he be so stupid? loving m/n had quickly become synonymously with a happy life and he had let that go. like all those years together had meant nothing, when they meant everything.

chaewon stood behind him in the doorway, looking at her husband-to-be before walking away, pulling her phone out and barking angrily into it.

taehyun tried to compose himself as much as he could, he had already opened the treasure trove of memories, now he had to see them through. but he couldn't help but contain the tears that spilled when he pulled out a sketch of himself and his former love.

--

"i don't think i can do this anymore," taehyun lied through his teeth. m/n looked confused before freezing, realization setting in at his lover's words. "i've been lying to myself for too long now. you've been the most amazing person, m/n, don't get me wrong. but i've been thinking and i just don't think i feel that same spark for you like when we first met."

m/n nodded slowly, even if he didn't like what he was hearing.

"have you found someone else?" he croaked out sadly, willing his voice not to crack. the corner's of taehyun's mouth turned up unconsciously. "how do they make you feel?"

"she makes me see something in myself and constantly makes me want to be a better person. i see something and instead of thinking about how happy it would make me, i think about how much happier it would make her. she gives me even more comfort than my parents. i could act any way i want in front of her but i know for sure that her feelings wouldn't change." taehyun ranted on, thinking subconsciously about the person sitting across the table from him.

"have you been with her while you've been with me?" m/n's voice shrunk, but taehyun quickly grabbed his hand.

"i would never," taehyun's voice was deadly serious. "i would never break up our relationship just because i don't feel the same anymore. you deserve more than that."

"thank you for telling me," it took all of m/n's willpower to not run out of the cafe, to go back to his apartment and bury himself under his covers and never leave. it took all of his willpower to not scream at taehyun and ask why, why is he not good enough. but instead, he smiles tight-lipped as he rises from his seat and pushes it in. "i hope she makes you, even more, happier than i did. i just want you to know that i'll always treasure our memories together.

m/n leaned over to press one final kiss against taehyun's cheek before departing.

their hearts broke in sync as m/n walked away.

--

taehyun smiled sadly at the sketch of two of them, even if some of his tears stained the picture. he quickly put all of the things back in the box and walked upstairs. he sat down quietly on the bed, pulling out his last picture of m/n.

"it was always you, m/n. never anybody else."

[tayegi]

New Rules Ch. 12

Word count: 10,425

Word spreads fast. It seems like no matter where you turn on campus, you see smirking faces and people whispering under their breath while pointing in your direction. As if it wasn't bad enough being the Ice Queen bitch, now you're the delusional bitch who actually thought she had a chance with Jeon Jungkook and threw a hysterical fit about it in front of his entire frat. Embarrassing does not even begin to describe it. It was bad enough when Jungkook rejected you to your face. But now the whole school knows about it… and you can't even show your face in public.

You contemplate dropping out of school, with only a year left, for a period of time. The only thing that keeps you from fleeing for a hermit life is the support of your girlfriends.

Mijoo is the first one who finds out. You had been dreading her reaction the most. She had been encouraging you to pursue Jungkook since day one, and was adamantly convinced that he actually liked you… You don't know how you can show your face in front of your best friend. Scorn is bad enough; you wouldn't be able to survive her pity.

You should've known her better than that. Once again, Mijoo proves why she's the one person you love most in the world.

The day after your dramatic scene at the frat house, word spreads like wildfire around campus. Hell, the very next morning, the entire sorority is aware of your embarrassing meltdown. And Mijoo is no exception. So you dash out first thing in the morning before she wakes, then hole up in the library all day. But with finals over, the library closes early. And you're forced to retreat back to the sorority house, your tail between your legs, hours earlier than you'd like. And this time, there's no way to avoid your roommate.

As anticipated, Mijoo is in your shared room, clearly waiting for you by the time you finally drag yourself in. Your eyes meet when you shut the door behind you, and neither of you know what to say for a moment.

The awkwardness is suffocating, so you try to break the tension with a laugh, "Haha, so I guess you've heard about the news?" you ask, sheepishly rubbing at the back of your head.

Mijoo doesn't say anything in return, but a single nod confirms your suspicions.

You resist the urge to cringe and double your efforts to keep up a nonchalant façade. You can't let her know how much this has affected you. Her sympathy would crush you. So you offer her a playful roll of your eyes, "Silly, isn't it? Oh well. Glad that's over and done with! Phew!"

But of course, your best friend can see through your act at once. Her face crumples and suddenly she's rushing towards you with outstretched arms, "Oh, ___," she sighs your name.

You wince when she hugs you tightly to her chest, suffocating you with her love. You really can't endure this. Anything but her pity. Oh god. This is the worst. You've never felt so small and idiotic. If you could have one wish, you'd have the ground open up to swallow you whole and—

"I'm proud of you."

Mijoo's unexpected words cut through the panicked frenzy of your brain like a cold knife.

You blink hazily, "Wh-what?"

She pulls back to gingerly cup your face with the utmost care, "I'm proud of you, ___," she repeats in a soft voice. "It can't have been easy confessing your feelings like that. And standing up for what you believed in. You are so strong, ___. And I admire you."

This is not what you had been expecting whatsoever. And all at once, your feelings of dread melt away, swallowed by a tide of affection. "M-mijoo," you whisper, voice choked with something dangerously close to tears. "Oh god, Mijoo." And with that, the floodgate of emotions bursts and you throw your arms around her, clinging on for dear life.

"Thank you," you breathe into the warmth of her embrace.

You can feel her smile against the crook of your neck, "___, you are a strong, independent, fierce goddess. Do you hear me? Any man who can't see that doesn't deserve you."

Tears fill your eyes, no matter how you try to blink them back, "It's me who doesn't deserve you."

Mijoo laughs softly as you tighten your grip on her hard enough to squeeze the air from her lungs, "I love you, ___."

"Good. Because that's all I need."

And when you finally let her go from your crushing hug to look her in the eye, Mijoo can tell from your watery, but steely gaze that you're not lying. Because no matter what happens, as long as you have her in your life, you can survive anything. Jeon Jungkook means nothing in comparison.

***

"I can't believe he turned out to be such an asshole!" Yerin exclaims in outrage when the three of you meet up for drinks the following Friday evening.

You pause to take a sip of your beer to hide your grin, "I dunno. I should've known better."

"No!" she practically yells at you, "How could you have known?! Men these days are all sneaky ass bastards! Well, fuck him!"

"Yeah!" Mijoo cheerfully agrees, sloshing her beer down her arm, "Fuck men!"

You choke back a laugh as you watch your best friends happily high-five each other in agreement, splashing beer all over the bar in the process. Mijoo and Yerin might have had one too many to drink… But they're so cute that you can't find it in you to reprimand them.

"Mijoo, what about Jimin?" you politely remind her, "Your boyfriend?"

"Oh, him…" she bitterly mutters under her breath, "Well, fuck him too!"

"… Aren't you bringing him to the sorority's homecoming dance after the break ends?"

"Oh yeah, that's right… Should I just dump him?"

"Wow. You must be really drunk if you're saying that," you snicker, "Ok, I'm taking the beer away."

"Ooh, can I have him if you don't want him anymore?!" Yerin eagerly waves her hand up in the air like a school kid waiting to be called on.

"Boys ain't shit," you playfully nudge her, "They're all crusty cheesemolds, remember?"

"No, only Yoongi's crusty," Yerin bitterly says.

"Ahh, he's not that bad…" you feebly defend him.

Both women turn to you in shock, "___, what are you saying?!"

"Yeah, whose side are you on, anyways?!"

You cower before their dual fury. You'd like nothing more than to correct them, but you can't forget about the promise you made Yoongi… "Yeah, you're right," you hold up your hands in defense, in case they start attacking, "He's the biggest dickbag of them all."

"Damn right."

"Cheers to that!" Mijoo crows as she holds up her pint of beer a toast.

Yerin whoops in joy and happily joins her, "Boys suck! I've decided that I'm gonna be the biggest fuckgirl of all time from now on!"

"Yeah! That's the spirit!"

You rush to intervene, "Wait, what?! Yerin, no! That is not a good idea!"

"Why not? Get that D while you're still young, girl!"

You hastily slap a hand over Mijoo's mouth before your roommate can continue with her horrible, drunken advice, "No! Don't get that D while you're young! Get it when you're both emotionally and physically mature enough to make reasonable—"

"Omg, Mimi should we go dancing?!" Yerin interrupts, her eyes as wide as saucers.

"Why are you even asking?! Fuck yeah!"

And with that, your two best friends are off, and you have no choice but to chase after them, playing the role of the babysitter for the first time in your life.

"Wait, where are you going?! Girls, wait for me!"

***

Once more, you find yourself outside of the epsilon chi omicron house. You'd sworn to yourself, after that eventful Halloween weekend, that you would never return to this place. But clearly, luck is never on your side.

So here you are, on a freezing Friday night, watching your two drunk friends attempt to sloppily flirt their way into a private party when you'd much rather be curled up in your warm, cozy bed. You sigh deeply as you watch Mijoo twirl her hair around a finger and bat her eyelashes.

"Oh come onnn," she coaxes, "Can't you just make an exception for us? Just this once?"

The bouncer falters under the force of her adorable pout, "I… Um… Sorry, Miss," he says, somehow managing to resist, "I really can't let you in."

"We won't cause any trouble," Yerin rushes to Mijoo's defense, "We just wanna have one teeny tiny little drink… Pleeeeaase?"

The bouncer awkwardly scratches the back of his head, "I… I dunno… Let me ask the other brothers…" And with that, he twists around to address some guys behind him, "Hey guys, these cute chicks want to join the party. Can I let them in?"

"Ah, I don't know about that," a second frat brother says as he approaches the door, "This party is invite-only and we don't—wait a minute… Is that you? Are my eyes deceiving me right now?" he asks, gawking in shock as his eyes widen in recognition.

And you're horrified to find that he's staring straight at you. Confused, you glance over your shoulder, but there's no one behind you. "… Me?"

"Yes, you!" He exclaims, suddenly bursting into hearty laughter, "I never thought I'd see you again. Come on in!" He grabs you by the shoulder and yanks you through the front door.

Bewildered, all three of you stumble after him, "Um… Do I know you?"

But the frat brother ignores you as he drags you to the center of the party, "Guys! She's here!"

"What?!" you say in alarm, "I really think that you are mixing me up with someone—"

"It's her!" Comes his joyous exclamation, "The hotdog girl!"

"What? The hotdog girl?"

"Oh my god, it's the hotdog girl!"

"Waaa! Fuck yeah, hotgot girl!"

All the color blanches from your face as the crowd of people all light up with realization.

"Let the hotdog dance! Let the hotdog dance! Let the hotdog—"

"Oh god, I need a drink," you groan.

***

"Ooh, he's pretty hot, ___," Mijoo says in a conspiratorial whisper as the guy who let you into the house cheerfully fills the red solo cup in your hand for what feels like the hundredth time, "And I think he's into you, too…"

"Ah, whatever. Drunk guys are easy," you snort as you take a giant gulp from your cup. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, right?"

"You should fuck him!" Yerin passionately shouts, "Teach that coconut asshole a lesson!"

You wince at the volume of her voice, "Nah, that's not a very mature thing to do, baby girl."

"Why not?! I think you should too!" Mijoo exclaims, "I mean, Jeon was cute, I'll give you that. But pretty boys like him are a dime a dozen. Come take your pick here! It's practically raining men!"

"Hallelujah!" Yerin fervidly adds.

"I know he was good-looking, but…" you bite your lip before you can let anything else slip. But that's not why I liked him…

"If you won't fuck this guy, then I will!"

You jerk your head to look at your cute little blonde friend with shock, "Yerin! Don't say such things!"

"Why not?" She shoots back, "I have nothing to lose. If Yoongi doesn't like me, who cares? There are dozens of men at this party who would love to have me!"

"Damn right!" Mijoo crows as she pours practically half a bottle of vodka in her solo cup.

You wince as you wrestle the bottle away from her, "Are you forgetting that you're still a virgin?" you hiss at Yerin in a low voice, "Don't be acting like this. It's not you!"

"I'm sick of being the goody-goody little virgin girl!" She angrily yells as she rips the bottle from your grip, "I'm not nice. I'm not sweet. And I sure as hell am not naïve! I want to be a fuckgirl, too! Why can't I ever have any fun?!"

Something about the way she says this makes you very uncomfortable. Sure, if she really just wanted to sleep around for the pleasure, you'd have no choice but to support her… But what are her motives here…?

You quickly grab her wrist before she can take a swig straight out the bottle, "Stop it, Yerin. You aren't thinking straight. I know what happened with Yoongi was rough, but you really don't have to do this to prove anything, okay? You are a smart, wonderful woman and you'll find someone perfect for you one day."

"Easy for you to say," she snaps as she yanks the bottle out of your hand, "At least you have Jung Hoseok waiting on your beck and call. I have nobody!" And with that, she raises the bottle to her lips and takes a deep, long drink. "But fuck it, I'm gonna go wild and I don't even care! Whoo!"

"Wait, Yerin!" You exclaim, trying to chase after her when she rushes for the dance floor, but Mijoo holds you back.

"Don't, ___," the pretty brunette says as she holds you firmly in place, "Nothing you say or do can convince her otherwise right now."

"But she's making a mistake! She could get into serious trouble!"

But Mijoo holds firm, no matter how you struggle in her grip, "Well, she has to figure that out for herself. You're not her mom. You can't ground her or shelter her forever. This is a lesson she can only learn from herself."

You chew your lip, indecisive, as you glance between the slim brunette and the mosh bit. You know that your roommate is right, but you can't help but worry. "What if she gets hurt?"

Mijoo shrugs, "Well, that's just life. You can't protect her from everything, ___. Besides, don't we all go through a phase like this?"

Heat flushes through your system at the reminder, "Ah… Don't remind me of that dark period."

Mijoo laughs, "It might not have been the prettiest period of time, but you did manage to fuck Seokjin out of your system, right? Maybe you could use a bit of that right now…"

But the very thought of sleeping with a faceless stranger makes you cringe, "Nah. That's not my thing anymore… It was fun for a bit, but I think I need to be with someone I truly care about."

"Like Hoseok?" Mijoo suggests with a little waggle of her eyebrows, "You know the homecoming dance is coming up… Maybe you could use your invite on him…?"

Your eyes widen at the suggestion. For some reason, it hadn't even crossed your mind. But now that you think about it, it makes perfect sense. "Hmm. That's not a bad idea actually…"

A sudden, roaring cheer from the dance floor makes the two of you jump in surprise. And you promptly forget about the conversation at hand as you watch a petite blonde girl perform a keg stand in the middle of the mosh pit while a dozen frat brothers surround her and cheer.

"Oh no, Yerin, no!"

***

Needless to say, you find yourself carrying Yerin home that night. You and Mijoo had grudgingly let it slide when Yerin unleashed herself on the dance floor. You even resisted the urge to violently interfere when the younger girl began making out with some random frat brother (well, Mijoo had to hold you back while you struggled and screamed bloody murder, but same thing). However, when Yerin decided to climb up the table and attempt to one-up your hotdog girl reputation, that's when it was time to intervene.

But of course, it was easier said than done. It's clear that you are the only sober one around in a one-mile radius, and Mijoo was far too drunk to be of much help. And unfortunately, there was no serendipitous run-in with Yoongi this time… Although that might not have been particularly welcome to the heartbroken Yerin. So you are left with no choice but to utilize the services of the weird little frat brother who recognized you all the way from Halloween.

"Hey what are you doing after this, hotdog girl?" He cheerfully asks.

"I dunno," you mutter as you groan under Yerin's weight, "Can you just focus on not dropping my baby on her head?!"

"Whoops, sorry," he cheerfully says as he adjusts his grip on the younger girl, "So what's your deal anyways? You got a boyfriend or something, hotdog girl?"

You look up to flash him the deathliest glare you can muster, "Can you please stop calling me that? I've got a name, you know! It's ___, goddamn it!"

"___?" he repeats, "Oh, that's pretty. I'm Sehun, by the way."

You grunt in response.

"So, about that boyfriend…?"

"Fuck Junkcock!" Mijoo suddenly screeches from behind the two of you, triggered by the word. "That shit burger dink!"

Sehun's eyes widen in surprise, "Wait… You're Jeon Jungkook's ex-girlfriend? Damn, I've heard so much about this."

Embarrassment washes over you like a wave, "Yeah, I'm that hysterical freak. So what?"

"Nothing," he laughs, "We heard about this angry ex-girlfriend who called out Jeon and embarrassed him in front of everyone, but I never thought I'd meet her in person. You're an idol to us in Exo."

You wince at the memories, "I was never his girlfriend… But thanks, I guess?"

"Wow, I seriously can't believe that's you," he says with a delighted laugh, "This makes me like you even more!"

To your horror, his bold proclamation stirs the sleepy girl in your arms, "Huh?" Yerin blearily rubs her eyes, "You like ___?" She asks in confusion, "Why don't you like me?!" And with that, she proceeds to burst into tears.

You would have pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration if not for the fear of dropping the younger girl on her head, "Shut up, playboy," you growl at Sehun.

"Pssht, ___!" Mijoo tries to whisper in your ear, but ends up practically bursting an eardrum, "This guy's hot. You should fuck him!"

Embarrassment floods you at the way Sehun's eyes light up in delight, "Yeah! What she said! What brilliant advice!"

But this makes Yerin cry harder, "Why won't anyone fuck me instead?!"

You groan deeply, "I hate my life."

***

It's a quarter past two in the morning by the time you finally get Yerin back to her dorm room and shake Sehun loose. He dramatically requests a kiss in exchange for his noble services carrying your pesky younger friend home, but you manage to ward him off with your phone number instead.

And then you're stuck with the task of piggy-backing Mijoo home.

You thank all the deities you can think of for not running into any cops or nosy security officers on your way back to the sorority house. You have no doubt that they'd take one look at your drooling roommate, and haul her ass off to prison. But somehow, somehow, you manage to drag her back to the house in one piece, undeterred even as she shrieks out her love for you and covers your neck in messy kisses.

As soon as you enter your shared room, you hurriedly dump her in bed, eager to rid yourself of her weight, and dashing for the kitchen before she can kiss you anymore. Not that you mind too much, but you don't know how you'd explain yourself to Jimin.

You're sagging with weariness by the time you make your way down to the kitchen to grab Mijoo a glass of water before she dies of dehydration. It's been a long night, and all you've done is run around trying to protect your best friends. Not exactly the stress relief that you were looking for… But it was fun, in a weird way.

You're hovering over the kitchen sink, smiling to yourself over the amusing memories of your intoxicated friends, when the front door swings open. Surprised to find another sister returning home so late, you look up to greet her—but your voice dies in your chest at the sight of Hyejin stumbling through the door. Your eyes meet, but neither of you say anything for a moment.

Then, the beautiful redhead sighs and kicks off her towering stilettos to march into the kitchen, "Did you just get back as well?"

"Yeah… I was at an EXO party. What about you?"

"The club," She says as she reaches around you for a glass, "Did you have fun?"

You know that the socially appropriate answer is to simply agree with a smile. But it's so late and you're too exhausted for these meaningless niceties, "Nah," you admit with a sigh, "It was tiring."

"Me too," Hyejin says as she fills up her glass, "I guess neither of us are succeeding in our attempts to get over him, huh?"

You freeze in shock as she ever-so-casually addresses the elephant in the room, "O-oh, you mean Jungkook?"

"Yeah," she says as she sips her water, "I heard about what happened between you guys. I'm so sorry, ___."

"A-ah," you stammer, surprised beyond words. Why is she doing this? Before today, you could've sworn that she hated you, "Thank you… Um… I'm sorry for you as well…"

Hyejin simply shrugs her elegant shoulders, "Don't be. I should've known better… Guys like that will never change… But I just couldn't help myself…"

You blink at her in confusion, "What do you mean?"

The older woman flashes you a half-hearted smile, "It's hard not to like him, huh? I mean, he's gorgeous and so talented, but that's not why we like him, is it?"

You can't find the words to respond with as you stare at her with huge eyes.

Hyejin absentmindedly swirls the water around in her glass for a few seconds before continuing, "I first met him about two years ago, when I was at a BTS party and he was still just a little Freshman pledge. And at first, I didn't think anything of him… He was cute, sure, but who cares? Guys with his looks are a dime a dozen on this campus. And I didn't want to mess around with a little underclassman. But then…" she bites down on her bottom lip, "But then, all of that changed."

"How so, Hyejin?" you ask, eyes alight with curiosity.

The redhead chuckles softly as she stares down at her glass, "When a frat brother slipped a date-rape drug in my drink…"

Your eyes bulge in horror, "What?!"

"It was the scariest moment of my life," Hyejin sighs as she stares dreamily into the distance, "Every limb felt like it was weighed down with lead, and I couldn't talk, couldn't move or even fucking breathe. I thought I was going to die. And that senior frat brother… He kept trying to drag me into his room…"

"Oh my god," you gasp, "Hyejin, I—"

"Nothing happened," she quickly cuts you off, dispelling your worries, "Luckily, a couple of guys at the party noticed and interfered before the senior could take me to his room, and called an ambulance… Jungkook was one of those guys."

"Thank god," you exhale in relief, "No wonder you like him so much. I had no idea."

But Hyejin simply shakes her head with a little laugh, "Nah. That's not why. Anyone can save a victim at the scene of the crime. It's what he did afterwards that really mattered…"

"Afterwards?" you repeat in confusion, "What happened?"

Hyejin's teeth sink into her bottom lip, and you don't miss the way her hand tightens around her water glass hard enough to make the knuckles turn white. It's clear that the pain never eases, even after all these years.

"It's easy to apprehend a crime… but not as easy to follow up with justice…" She says after a long, deliberative pause, "The person who tried to rape me… He was a senior in the frat. And his father was a very powerful man who made important donations to the frat and to the school as a whole. It didn't matter that I had drug tests from the hospital proving that I had been roofied. No one cared to hear it… No one dared to oppose him… Except one noisy little Freshman boy…"

A lump forms in your throat that you can't swallow down. You can't see Hyejin's expression clearly in the darkness, but a single beam of moonlight that streams through the parted curtains of the kitchen window allows you a glimpse of her clenched teeth. It feels like your chest may cave with empathy, but you're too afraid to break the spell if you reach out to touch her like you crave.

"Jungkook was the only one who refused to cover it up. Even at the risk of not making it into the frat, he went up to the president and demanded justice… There was unfortunately nothing he could do at the university-level, but he managed to convince Namjoon to kick that rapist out of BTS…" Hyejin pauses to take a shaky breath.

"He was only a Freshman pledge… He could've been rejected from the frat. Worse, he could've experience backlash from going against such an important person, and been kicked off the soccer team. Had his scholarship revoked or something. But he didn't care… Even though he didn't know me… Even though I was just a stranger to him… He stood up for me. He stood up for what he believed in… And I've been in love with him ever since."

Her words send a shiver down your spine. You're so entirely shell-shocked and overwhelmed with emotion that you can't speak. You can only stare at her in the silvery darkness as your heart breaks into a thousand piece for her.

Hyejin must notice the utter despair in your gaze, because she smiles and reassuringly squeezes your shoulder, "I'm not telling you this to feel bad for me, sweetie. I'm telling you this, because I want you to know that you're not alone. I know exactly how you feel… Jungkook… he's a really good guy at his core. But he's still an immature kid and he can be a complete jackass at times. He definitely needs to grow the fuck up before he can handle a woman like us," she says with a playful nudge.

"Oh, Hyejin…" you murmur, forehead crinkling as you stare at her with wide, doe-like eyes, "I… I just… I'm so—"

"Nah, I don't need to hear it," she laughs, "Me and you, we'll move forward, alright? It's not fair for us to wait for him. We'll get over this kind, caring, immature asshole together."

You offer her a tremulous smile as you barely resist the urge to tackle her in an embrace. Knowing Hyejin, she would definitely not appreciate that. "Yes," you breathe, "Yes, we will."

And when you muster the courage to gently touch her hand, you're delighted when she doesn't immediately move away.

***

The next morning, after you've cleaned up all of Mijoo's vomit and ushered her to the showers, you sit on your bed and stare down at your cell phone, reflecting on your conversation with Hyejin the night before. She's right. Jungkook is a good man. In fact, he could be everything you could want in a man in a few years… But not now. You can't wait around and hope that he'll grow up. You have to move on. You owe that to yourself, at least. You, and Hyejin.

So after taking a deep breath for strength, you pick up your phone and dial in a number.

To your relief, the other party answers after just a few rings, "Hello?"

"Hi, Hoseok… How do you feel about going to the homecoming ball with me next weekend?"

***

A week later, you yank clothing out of your closet in a state of complete panic as Mijoo and Yerin watch you in amusement. "Ah!" you shriek, "Hoseok's gonna be here in half an hour! What do I wear?!"

"Calm down, you only have like two dresses anyways," Mijoo points out with a snicker, "Just pick one of them and let's go."

"But which one?!" You exclaim as you hold up both dresses, "Is this one a bit too plain?" you ask as you gesture to a dark gray shift.

"Yes, definitely," Mijoo says at once, "This is a formal ball, not a job interview."

"Ugh… Should I just wear my pantsuit instead?"

"Definitely not. I mean, you look cute in anything, but don't you want to look extra nice for Hoseok?"

"Why does it matter anyways?" Yerin suddenly pipes up, "Hoseok's so whipped for you that he'd love you in anything."

"What? I don't think that's right…" you say as you consider your options with unease, "Maybe I should take a chance and wear the pink dress…"

"Yes!" Mijoo crows with delight, "You've been saving that weapon since the goddamn date auction last semester. It's time to unleash that on us! We deserve it!"

You chuckle at her dramatic statement, "Okay… Maybe I should wear it… But isn't it a little too… pretty for me? I don't think I can pull it off…"

"Oh, don't say that, ___!" Yerin says, "I'm also wearing a long dress, and mine is also glittery!"

Both you and Mijoo turn to her in surprise, "Wait, you're going to the ball, too?"

"Yep. I'm officially a member of the sorority now, too, remember?" She cheerfully informs you.

"Ah, that's right," you say with a fond ruffle of her hair, "My adorable little sister… So glad you picked me as your big sis over Mijoo," you whisper in a conspiratorial voice.

"I heard that!" you pretty brunette roommate exclaims in outrage.

"Sorry, babe," you chuckle, "But my cute baby and I are perfectly suited for each other! That's why we're even wearing matching dresses to the ball, huh?"

"That's right!" Yerin happily chirps, "I want to be exactly like ___!"

"Good girl!" you coo as you reach over to scratch her under the chin.

But then Mijoo frowns, "Wait a minute… I understand that you can go to the ball now as a sister… But who did you invite as your date?"

"Oh Sehun."

You and Mijoo exchange a confused look, "Huh?"

"Who?"

"The EXO brother, remember?"

"Ooh," you say as realization dawns upon you, "The fuckboi who helped us home? Why would you ask him, Yerin?"

"Yeah, didn't he like ___?" Mijoo adds, confused.

The younger girl flushes pink at that reminder, "Y-yeah… But he was really cute… and I wanted to do something nice for him to thank him for carrying me back to the dorms…"

But Mijoo still looks perplexed, "Wait but if he likes ___, why would he agree to go with you?"

Yerin sheepishly scratches the back of her head, "… I may or may not have told him that ___ was going to be there… and that I'd try to set them up…"

You groan in annoyance, "Why, Yerin?! You know as well as I do that that little fuckboi doesn't actually like me!"

The blonde girl looks up in surprise, "Wait he doesn't?"

"Of course not! He doesn't know the slightest thing about me. He's just thirsty and trying to get in my pants, because he thinks of me as this wild party animal… or party hotdog… Either way, it's not real."

"Really?" Yerin says with her eyes as wide as saucers, "That's all it takes to get a guy to like you?"

You glance at her harshly, "Is that all you got out of that?!"

"I like Sehun," Mijoo suddenly pipes up, "He's got a great ass. Granted, it's not as bouncy as my Chimchim's, but at least it's better than that pancake ass of Yoongi's. I support you, Yerin."

"What?!" you exclaim in horror, "Mimi! Not you too!"

"Don't worry, ___," Yerin says as she kindly pats your hand, "You still have Hoseok. And he has the ass of a Greek god."

"… oh my god, you guys…"

"Speaking of that Greek god… Isn't he coming over any minute now?" Mijoo kindly reminds you.

Your jaw drops, "Shit!"

***

Fifteen minutes later, you find yourself decked in your floor-length pink tulle dress as Mijoo and Yerin flutter around you, trying to plaster you with as much makeup as they can manage before Hoseok gets to the house. But all too soon, you receive the dreaded text announcing his arrival.

I'm downstairs!

That sets the girls into a state of panic. Mijoo almost rubs lipstick all over your face in her haste to apply it, and Yerin nearly breaks your big toe trying to shove your feet into borrowed heels. And you can only sit there the whole time, too scared to move with your heart racing a thousand beats a minute. You've never been so dolled up in your entire life, and for a moment, you feel so helplessly self-conscious that you consider feigning an illness and calling this whole thing off. But somehow, you force yourself to rise to your feet and numbly make your way downstairs. Because you can't allow yourself to keep hiding behind your insecurities. You have to channel Hyejin and move on with your life.

Your feet hurt with every step and your dress is a bit too tight—making it a struggle to even breathe, but when you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror on your way out, but can't deny that you look good. Hell, this is probably the best you've looked in your entire life. The cut of the dress emphasizes your figure and the heels make your legs look miles long. Hell, even the makeup is flawless and highlights your best features. For once in your life, you're showing off rather than hiding, and you feel so good about yourself that you feel like you're floating…

But your tenuous ego immediately shatters when Hoseok takes one look at you and bursts into laughter.

"Oh my god!" he laughs, doubling over and clutching his stomach from the hilarity, "What are you wearing?!"

You self-consciously tug down your dress and suck in your tummy, "What? Is it really that bad?"

"No," he says once he calms down enough to rub the tears from his eyes, "It's just that… It's not like you."

"Oh…" you feebly say, "I was… just trying something new? I guess that it didn't work then…"

"No, you're pretty no matter what you wear," he says with an award-winning grin, "But this just doesn't suit you… Did you lose a bet or something?" he chuckles.

You timidly smile back. Of course this doesn't suit you. You're the ugly tomboy who needs to hide behind her oversized hoodies and sweatpants. You must look like a pig in a dress, all dolled up like this. "Ah… maybe I should go change then…"

"Nah," Hoseok laughs, "We're late, and you've put in all this effort anyways, so why not?"

Somehow, the way he says this makes you feel even worse. And you want nothing more than the ground to open up and swallow you whole. "Alright," you murmur in a small voice, "Let's go."

***

As always, the sorority's annual ball is held in the swanky hotel downtown. Hoseok seems unimpressed by the decor, but this is your first time attending this particular event, and you're blown away by all the glamor.

The ballroom is enormous, with vast marble floors and high ceilings illuminated by golden, shimmery lights. It's like a scene straight out of a fairytale with the colorful dresses bursting across the dancefloor and the men in their dapper suits. Only, you don't feel like Cinderella. Next to all the goddesses decked in silk, you feel like the ugly stepsister. And the handsome Prince Charming escorting you to the ball only makes you feel a million times worse in comparison.

"Is there something wrong?" Hoseok interrupts your thoughts with a hand pressed to the small of your back.

You flinch from his touch, "Nothing," you lie, "I just need a drink."

***

"So…" you awkwardly attempt to make conversation a few minutes later, when you and Hoseok settle down with your drinks at a table, "How's recruitment going? Did you make a decision yet?"

"I'm leaning towards Seoul team," he informs you, "But I might spend a few months training with the national team first… but of course, you must know all about this," he says with a laugh.

You look up in surprise, "I would?"

"Yeah. A sports fanatic must've heard all about this news ages ago."

It takes you a second to realize that he's not joking. So you force a smile and lie along, "Ah, that's right. I already knew. But I wanted to give you a chance to tell me. Although any decision you make is sure to be great!"

He grins at that, "See, this is why I like you so much. It's hard to find a girl who's so informed about the sport, yet so chill about everything."

"Haha, you know that's me," you say, praying that he doesn't notice how fake your laugh is. He is so wrong about you that you don't even know where to begin. And maybe it's time to come clean to him about everything. You're not that lowkey, cool girl that he thinks… And if you ever want to get anywhere with him, you should start by telling the truth…

But before you can make up your mind, a loud voice calls out your name, "___! You got here quick!"

You grin at Mijoo and Jimin, grateful for their sudden appearance as you jump from your seat to give them enthusiastic hugs, "Hey guys! Oh my god, you look amazing!"

And you're not lying. With her sleek royal blue dress and her rich brown hair cascading down her back in curls, she looks more like a movie star at a red-carpet premiere or a storybook princess. And Jimin looks just as good at her side in his dark suit that highlights every angle of his slim body, with a matching blue tie to complement her dress.

"Thanks!" Your roommate beams, spinning in a wide circle to show off her dress, fragrant curls flying everywhere.

"Oh my… I'm in love. Please forget about Jimin and run off with me," you tease.

"Hey, watch it!" Jimin laughs as he wraps an arm around Mijoo's waist to tug her to him.

"Can you blame me?" you shoot back, "I mean, my precious Mimi is always pretty, but today she's as sparkly as an angel!"

Mijoo blushes and preens from the attention, but next to you, Hoseok shifts in discomfort. "Do you girls really care about this stuff…?" He whispers this under his breath, so that only you can pick up on it, but the damage has been done.

You hastily clear your throat, "Um… By the way, where's Yerin?"

"Oh…" Mijoo's expression darkens at once, "She and that EXO punk are over there…"

You glance over to where she's pointing, and sure enough, there's that tall frat brother propped up against the bar next to a leggy blonde in an ultra-tight red sequined dress. You blink a few times before you finally recognize the blonde, "Yerin?!" And then you're running over as fast as your painful heels will allow.

Your lil sis turns around at the sound of her name, and your jaw drops in scandalized horror as you take in her plunging neckline. "Oh, ___. There you are!"

You stand there, numb, as she gives you a big hug. "Yerin… I—what are you…? What is this?!" you splutter as you stare at the slit of her dress that reaches her upper thigh, threatening to reveal her panties at any second.

"Oh, I just bought this dress! Isn't it nice?"

"It's amazing," Sehun immediately answers for you, drooling like a dog over her bare skin, "You're so beautiful."

"What?! Don't look at my baby like that, you yogurt-slinging cheese—"

Mijoo hastily slaps a hand over your mouth before you can continue any further, "Ah, what ___ is trying to say is that she's a little surprised by your outfit choice, but you look gorgeous, Yerin."

Shocked by her misrepresentation, you struggle in her arms, but the taekwondo black belt is a lot stronger than you anticipated, and you can only splutter incoherently against the palm of her hand.

But unfortunately, your dramatic antics make Sehun notice you for the first time. His brow creases into a frown as he looks you up and down. "Hotdog girl?!" He says in amazement, "What the hell are you wearing?!"

And with that final blow, you fall limp in Mijoo's grip, numbly allowing her to drag you away. What's so bad about your outfit that you have every former admirer turning away in disgust? God, what were you even thinking?

"Don't be like this," Mijoo whispers to you as she drags you to the other side of the ballroom, "Yerin's an adult woman. She can wear whatever she wants. I didn't expect you to slut-shame like this."

"I'm not," you feebly mutter as you slump your head against her shoulder, "I just didn't like how that fuckboy was looking at her."

The pretty brunette chuckles, "Jealous that he's diverted his affections elsewhere? Sure, maybe he had a harmless crush on the wild hotdog girl, but you've got to admit that Yerin has easily blown you out of the water with her whole Jessica Rabbit act. You stand no chance."

"That's not it," you sigh, "I just hope she's making the right decision trying to seduce such a fickle fuckboy. Is it so wrong that I want her to be with someone who likes her for her? Not just because she's showing a lot of skin?"

"These boys are all stupid," Mijoo patiently reassures you, "They think that if a girl gets up on a stripper pole in a hotdog costume, or dresses in a certain way, that they're easy. Our Yerin will just have to prove him wrong and put him in his place, huh?"

"Yeah… you're right. I just hope that she makes the right decision."

"There's nothing we can do, ___. We've just got to trust her."

You pause for a moment to allow the words to sink into you. Then you sigh loudly, "Where did the guys go, by the way? I need a drink… And I know we're at a fancy ball or whatever, but I demand that we take shots."

Mijoo laughs at this, "I wouldn't expect anything less from you, babe. I think Jimin and Hoseok are over there by the bartender."

"Right," you say, following as she begins to lead you over. But then you pause, "Wait, Mijoo… Can I ask you a question?"

She stops to look over at you with curiosity, "Sure. What's up?"

You hesitate for a moment, gnawing on your bottom lip as self-doubt overcomes you. But you bite the bullet and continue, "Is this dress really that ridiculous on me?" You ask in a small voice, eyes lowered to avoid eye contact.

Mijoo's guffaw brings you out of the shadow of doubt, "What are you even talking about? You look beautiful."

And with that, your mouth splits into your first genuine smile of the night. "Thanks, babe."

"Of course. Now are we gonna go or what? Those tequila shots aren't gonna drink themselves!"

You laugh in delight as you take her hand and skip across the elegant ballroom, attracting stares from all the other party-goers.

***

An hour later, and your heels are killing you so much that you have to abandon all attempts at dancing to sit at a side table and nurse your bruised feet. On the dance floor, Mijoo and Jimin are still going at it, swaying gently to the beat of the music. You watch them with fondness, wondering when it will be your turn. But instead, you're stuck on the sidelines with shoes that don't fit.

"Should I just take you home?" Hoseok asks with an amused smile as he watches you take off your heels for the umpteenth time that evening.

"Ah, do you mind?" you ask, "I'm so sorry, Hoseok. This is unfair to you…"

"Nah," he says with a good-natured laugh, "I had fun… but next time, just be yourself, okay?"

That strangely worded statement makes you pause, "Wait, what do you mean by that?"

"I mean, you don't have to dress like this," he laughs as he playfully tugs at the pink tulle of your dress, "It's really not like you. I'm not sure if you lost a bet or something, but don't let your friends push you around like this."

He's so wrong that you can't speak for a moment. This entire time you thought that Hoseok was different. That he actually knew the real you, and appreciated you for it. Could it be that you had been wrong this whole time…?

You shake these useless thoughts out of your mind. There is a time and a place for everything, and it's clearly not here. All you want to do is go home and kick off your shoes to give your poor, crushed toes some much needed relief.

But of course, nothing goes to plan, and on your way out of the door, the two of you are intercepted by a furious woman on a mission.

"Jung Hoseok!" She cries out, making you both freeze in your tracks, "What the hell?!"

You slowly whirl around on your heel to find Somin standing before you, looking beautiful in her pearl pink satin dress, but majorly pissed off. Next to you, Hoseok's face folds into a grimace.

"Ah… Somin… You're here, too?"

"Yes, and I cannot believe you, you asshole!" She fumes, "You told me that you were too busy to come to the ball with me when I asked you a whole fucking month ago! And now I find you here with ___? With her? Are you fucking kidding me?!"

At the mention of your name, you awkwardly shuffle a few feet back, wishing that you could turn invisible. This is a conversation that you clearly should not be apart of… But there's no escaping now…

"I dunno… I guess my schedule just cleared up," Hoseok attempts to make an excuse for himself.

"Bullshit!" Somin practically shouts at him, "How are you such a lying piece of shit?! You couldn't even think of a better excuse? Did I ever even mean anything to you?!"

Hoseok cringes at the volume of her voice and nervously glances around the ballroom, as though fearful of causing a scene, "Shh. Don't yell. It's really not like that…"

"Not like what?!" She shoots back, undeterred, "You couldn't be bothered to even come up with more than just a half-assed excuse? What am I to you? Just a fucking toy that you can throw away whenever you want?"

The handsome redhead runs a hand through his hair, clearly distressed by all of this, "Come on, Somin. You knew from the beginning that we were just having fun, nothing more. There's a reason why I didn't want to get all caught up in feelings…"

But the sports reporter simply stares at him with cold, expressionless eyes, "If you think that's the reason why I'm upset, then you're truly an idiot."

Hoseok's eyes widen in surprise, "Somin, wait!"

She shakes him off with a dismissive wave of her hand, "I don't need this toxicity in my life. So don't you dare ever speak to me again, Jung Hoseok." And with that, she turns to march away with exaggerated stomps of her platform heels.

The two of you watch her strut away in stunned silence. This has got to be one of the most awkward situations of your life. You almost feel like the other woman, caught in an illicit affair.

Hoseok picks up on your discomfort, and turns to offer you a half-hearted smile, "Sorry you had to witness that."

You hold both hands up, "No, not at all. Although, honestly, this whole thing seems to be due to a small mistake… Maybe you just forgot to tell her… right?"

"Yeah," he sighs, "It was obviously just a misunderstanding… I don't know why she had to be so dramatic and call me out in public like that… Geez. This is why I don't fuck around with girls like that. I should've known better…"

Something about the way he says that sounds a bit… off… You know that you should just mind your own business and move on… but you can't help but prod a bit. "Girls like that?" you ask, curious, "What exactly do you mean by that?"

"You know," he says with a roll of his eyes, "Overly dramatic, high-maintenance girls like her… What was I even thinking?" he says with a self-deprecating chuckle.

But you can't laugh along. Because next to him, your blood has frozen to ice. "Y-you think Somin is high-maintenance?" you croak out in disbelief.

"Yeah," he sighs, "I really can't stand it… Everything is about touchy-feely shit, and nail polish, and color-coordination with her," he laughs, "What a headache! I'm so glad that I've found a real girl, like you."

"A real girl?" you repeat in a quiet voice, "What does that mean?"

"You know, someone who keeps it real. Who isn't so caught up with frivolous, girly bullshit. You're just super chill. And that's what I like about you." He ends his statement with a wide, infectious smile, as though he's just given you the greatest compliment on earth.

But you can't bring yourself to crack a smile even if you tried. Because it feels like your world has flipped upside down. Belatedly, you realize that you should've known this all along. All the signs were there, from the way he laughed at your dress, or the way he praised your interest in kickboxing on top of the roof, all those months ago. Hell, you should've known from the moment you met him, when he was so unreasonably impressed by your lack of makeup. Were you really so blind? Or did a secret part of you, deep down inside, know all along?

For a split second, you consider feigning ignorance. It would be so damn easy to laugh along with him and continue living this lie of being the cool, sporty tomboy who doesn't care about stupid "girly" things. After all, Hoseok isn't a bad guy. He's so handsome, popular, and kind. And he likes you. Someone actually likes you. Isn't that better than being alone? For a split second, you're tempted to grab his hand and flash him an award-winning smile. For a split second, you contemplate giving up all your morals and living a life of comfort with this lovely, charismatic man.

But you can't.

So you take a deep breath through your nose, eyes squeezing shut for a millisecond, before you open them to stare him straight in the eyes, "Hoseok… Do you know why I'm not like those other girls?" you ask him in a soft voice, "Do you know why I don't wear makeup or frilly dresses or bombard you with my emotions?"

Hoseok seems a bit taken aback by your strange line of questioning, but attempts to respond, regardless, "Um… Because you don't care about such dumb things?"

You throw your head back with a bark of laughter, "No, that's not it at all."

Hoseok's brow creases with confusion, "Huh? Then why?"

"Because I'm insecure."

That only makes him more confused, "What? What are you even talking about?"

"You have completely misunderstood me. I am not that confident, chill girl you think I am. The only reason why I don't wear makeup and pretty dresses like Somin is because I am so fucking insecure about myself that I don't think I can pull it off. But if I could, you bet your ass I'd be wearing princess gowns with my face contoured like a fucking Instagram model every single day of my life."

The handsome redhead staggers back in shock, "I… I don't understand what you're saying, ___."

But you simply step forward, not allowing him to escape your clutches, "The cool girl you thought I was? The unaffected tomboy who watches sports and drinks with the guys and doesn't give one shit about emotional garbage? She doesn't exist. This ideal woman is a figment of your imagination. And I'm not going to bend over backwards pretending to be someone I'm not. Especially not for a sexist."

"Sexist?" he repeats in horror, "The fuck are you talking about?! I'm no sexist!"

By his offended reaction, you can tell that he genuinely does not understand the error of his problematic views. So you try to break it to him as gently as possible, "Feminism is about respecting and empowering women, Hoseok. You can't just pick and choose which women you want to respect. That's not how it works. If you can only respect certain women for being 'cool' and 'chill' and basically acting like men, while condemning the rest for being too 'girly,' then that's the literal definition of misogyny."

Hoseok looks utterly horrified and outraged by the accusations, "Are you fucking serious?! That's not what I meant at all! You're twisting my words, ___. Let me—oh come on! Where are you going?"

"To catch my uber," you say as you march past him.

He desperately grabs you by the arm before you can go out the door, "Wait—let me explain myself!"

But you jerk out of his grip as though you've been burned, "Don't you dare touch me, Jung Hoseok," you hiss through your teeth.

"I'm sorry! I just—come on, just let me explain myself! It's really not like that!" He exclaims in frustration.

"I think I've heard enough," you curtly retort, "I think I'll channel Somin and cut the toxicity out of my life."

And without sticking around to listen to the rest of his excuses, you rush out of the ballroom into the safe haven of your waiting uber.

***

By the time you finally make it back to the sorority house, you feel like you've aged ten years. Your hair is flat and messy, your skin dull, and your blistered feet are burning from the pain of standing in your cramped heels. Most of all, you feel mentally drained from that exhausting conversation with Hoseok. All you want to do is to strip of your tight, itchy dress and wash your face of the thick makeup. And when you're finally in bed, hidden under the covers, maybe the heaviness around your heart will finally dissipate.

But like always, luck is never on your side. And when you walk up the driveway to the front of the house, you find Jungkook sitting on the front steps waiting for you.

He jumps up immediately at the sight of you, "___!" He calls out, "I… I… um… You look beautiful."

You stiffen for a second, eyes wide as though you've just seen a ghost. Never in a million years would you have ever predicted this outcome. Hell, you thought you'd never see him again after the very public call out in the frat house a few weeks ago. And yet, here he is, standing in front of you with lights shining in his brown doe eyes, as though the humiliation of the last month never happened.

Suddenly, you feel a thousand times heavier.

It hurts to see him. The incident in the frat house is practically old news by now, but the time doesn't ease the pain one bit. And seeing him in the flesh again just tears apart your wounds anew.

You sigh deeply, whole body sagging with exhaustion, "I don't know what you're here for, but I'm tired, Jeon."

"Wait, ___!" He exclaims, jumping to block your path when you try to walk around him. "Please! I promise this won't take that long!"

You sigh again. Whatever this is, it's clear that you won't be getting any sleep until he finishes. So you cross your arms tightly over your chest and turn to shoot him the dirtiest look you can muster, "You have five minutes."

Jungkook seems slightly taken aback by your gruffness, but hastens to make use of his time, "Okay, okay… I just… I'm here to apologize, okay?"

You simply hum in response and glance down at your cell phone for the time, "Cool."

He winces at your reaction and tries again, "I'm really sorry, ___. I was an asshole, and you have every right to be mad at me… And I would do anything to make it up to you."

That unexpected statement catches your attention. Your eyes shoot up to meet his in surprise. He's not saying what you think he's saying… right? "Jungkook…" you murmur, "I don't understand…"

His teeth dig into his bottom lip, and for a moment, he looks so frightened and unsure of himself that you almost feel sorry for him, "I just… I miss you, okay? I'll do anything—literally anything you want—to have you back again."

Your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, you can't even breathe from all the euphoria flooding your veins. Can this actually be real? Jeon Jungkook is actually in front of you, confessing everything you've ever wanted to hear from him and more? You're not just dreaming, right?

It's almost an out-of-body experience having all your dreams come true, and for a moment, you float out of your body, watching the scene of the groveling boy begging for the girl back from a distance. It's like a scene out of any drama. You can vividly imagine yourself running into his arms and never letting go. Then the two of you can ride off into the sunset and have your happily ever after. And you'll finally get your turn at playing the princess of the story.

It's all you've ever wanted… isn't it?

After a long second of tension, you slowly release the breath you didn't realize you were holding to approach him with small, cautious steps. Jungkook watches your every move with huge eyes, apprehension written across every feature. And when you reach up to gently caress the sharp angle of his jaw, he visibly relaxes… until you bring your lips to his ear and tell him:

"No thanks."

Jungkook tenses at once, like you've slapped him, "Wh-what?"

You smile faintly at him as you continue to trail your fingertips up and down his jawline, "I don't want you to do anything I want. Do you really think I'm that type of person to manipulate a guy into a relationship that he clearly doesn't want? Think again, Jeon."

His eyes widen as he processes your words, "B-but, it's not like that!" he stammers, "You're not manipulating me. You want a relationship and titles and all that? That's fine! I… I'm genuinely willing!"

"Yeah… but that's not enough," you murmur, echoing something that he told you in bed all those months and months ago.

Jungkook stares at you in utter disbelief, unable to conceal his panic, "I… I don't understand what you want from me!" he despairs, "Seriously, ___. Tell me anything, and I'll do it. I'll grovel at your feet for a decade if that means I can have you back!"

But still, you shake your head and smile, "Yes, you're willing. But that's not enough for me… Tell me what you actually want, Jungkook."

He can't comprehend your words for a moment, "I… I want anything you want?" he offers, hopeful that it's what you're looking for.

But you only laugh, "No, tell me the truth, Jungkook, and I might go easy on you: In an ideal world, where you could have everything you wanted with no consequence… would you want me to be your girlfriend?" At the very sound of that word, Jungkook involuntarily grimaces, giving himself away at once. You sigh deeply and drop your hand from his face. "I see…"

Horrified by his own reaction, Jungkook rushes to redeem himself, "Well, it's not what would happen in my perfect world, but I don't mind it! Seriously. I can be anything that you want me to be!"

"But do you want it, too?"

That single question knocks him out. He's silent for a moment, eyes wild with dread and hands clenched to fist. "N-no," he finally grits out in a shaky voice.

It's as you expected, yet it doesn't hurt any less. You offer him a tight smile, "Ah, I see. Thank you for being honest, Jungkook."

"Wait, ___!" He calls out your name, panicking when you move past him to the front door, "I didn't mean that—I just—"

But you stop him in his tracks with a hand pressed against his chest, "We're just in different places right now," you inform him in a small voice, "It'll never work out, so please don't make this harder than it needs to be."

With that, you render him speechless, and this gives you the opportunity to slip under his arm and run into the house, eyes shut tightly so that you can't see his expression of pain. Because you're weak. And if you do, you might hesitate. And then, it'll be too late.

So you run up to your room, carelessly flinging your shoes off without stopping for a moment. And it's not until you're huddled in your bed, piles and piles of blankets stacked on top of you to block out any light, that you finally allow yourself to breathe.

You've gone and done it this time. Two perfectly respectable guys in the span of a single evening… All because you couldn't compromise. Because you want more than you deserve. And what did you expect? That someone would actually like you for you and want to be with you?

You're asking for too much. And that's why you'll always be alone. But that's okay, because you have your Ice Bitch reputation to maintain…

Somehow, you convince yourself that it's better this way.

***

Author’s Note: Please don’t ask me about updates!

Also, when I was planning this fic back in sept 2017, this is the furthest I had gotten with my brainstorming, so everything past this chapter is uncharted territory, and I’m both scared and excited aklsdfjlksd Wish me luck, guys :D 

[madeleinesfm-blog]

             *  𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨  𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞  !  i’m  super  excited  to  be  here  (  and  actually  coming  back  ,  but  i  decided  to  change  my  alias  because  i’m  a  certified  child  )  ,  but  if  you’ve  been  here  since  opening  ,  then  you  once  probably  knew  me  as  kris  .  i  prefer  she  /  her  or  they  /  them  pronouns  ,  i’m  21+  ,  and  reside  in  the  est  timezone  .  nonetheless  ,  i  missed  six  and  i  decided  to  come  back  ,  but  this  time  with  my  woman  crush  everyday  ,  madeleine  kim  .  she’s  a  spoiled  brat  and  quite  literally  an  asshole  ,  so  please  bear  with  me  for  this  lengthy  intro  !  

            (  rosé  .  cis  female  .  she  /  her  .  twenty  four  )  omg  !  i  was  walking  yonge  street  downtown  ,  and  you’ll  never  guess  who  i  saw  .  madeleine  kim  !  i  just  saw  a  post  about  them  on  sixsecrets  !  i  think  it  said  something  like  ‘  madeleine  kim  gets  in  a  twitter  war  with  anti  -  fan  ,  and  we’re  living  for  her  clapbacks  !  ’  .  isn’t  that  wild  ?  i  guess  it  makes  sense  though  ,  since  they’re  apparently  contemptuous  and  loathsome  ,  but  i’ve  heard  they’re  also  unadulterated  and  companionable  .  i  mean  ,  it’s  not  like  i  know  them  personally  —  they’re  a  famous  heiress  and  youtuber  !  you  know  ,  i’ve  actually  heard  rumors  that  redacted  ,  but  they’re  just  rumors  ...  i  think  .  if  you  happen  to  run  into  them  ,  tell  them  i’m  their  biggest  fan  !

i.  statistics  .

NAME  :  madeleine  kim  .

NICKNAMES  :  mads  +  maddy  .

AGE  +  DATE  OF  BIRTH  :  24  +  june  19th  ,  1996  .

ASTROLOGICAL  SIGN  :  gemini  ,  gemini  sun  +  cancer  moon  .

MYERS - BRIGGS  PERSONALITY  TYPE  :  estp  .

MORAL  ALIGNMENT  :  neutral  evil  .

ENNEAGRAM  TYPE  :  the  observer  .

GENDER  +  PRONOUNS  :  cis  female  +  she  /  her  /  hers  .

PLACE  OF  BIRTH  :  ascot  ,  queensland  ,  australia  .

PLACE  OF  RESIDENCE  :  toronto  ,  ontario  ,  canada  +  click  .

SEXUAL  ORIENTATION  :  bisexual  .

ROMANTIC  ORIENTATION  :  biromantic  .

OCCUPATION  :  social  media  influencer  ,  heiress  +  model  .

NATIONALITY  :  australian  .

ETHNICITY  :  korean  .

PINTEREST  :  click  .

ii.  biography  .

madeleine  kim  was  born  to  tae - min  and  min - ji  kim  during  the  summer  of  1996  in  sydney  ,  aus  .  tae - min  had  already  been  growing  a  fortune  as  he  was  one  of  the  top  real  estate  agents  within  the  city  of  ascot  .  min - ji  was  a  woman  who  wanted  everything  handed  to  her  ,  and  thus  ,  when  madeleine  was  two  her  parents  had  gotten  a  divorce  .  her  mother  went  off  to  marry  another  man  ,  and  she  hasn’t  seen  her  since  she  walked  out  with  her  louis  vuitton  suitcases  .

for  the  next  five  years  ,  tae - min  put  romance  on  the  back  burner  as  he  continued  to  build  his  real  estate  empire  .  eventually  ,  he  left  the  agency  he  was  working  with  to  open  his  own  ,  and  the  agency  was  an  instant  success  due  to  previous  clients  continuously  sending  their  referrals  to  him  .  the  agency  slowly  began  to  incorporate  custom  builds  into  their  system  ,  adding  on  to  the  empire  .

for  little  madeleine  ,   she  was  the  apple  of  her  father’s  eye  .  he  was  continuously  spoiling  her  and  getting  her  whatever  she  wanted  .  if  she  wanted  a  princess  themed  birthday  ,  then  she  was  getting  a  custom  made  dress  and  a  little  tiara  to  match  .  there  was  never  a  day  where  she  didn’t  get  everything  that  she  asked  for  ,  and  she  especially  would  always  clasp  her  hands  together  every  night  and  ask  to  not  have  a  new  mommy  .

sadly  ,  this  was  the  one  time  where  madeleine  didn’t  get  what  she  asked  for  as  she  was  soon  introduced  to  her  step - mother  ,  bo - ra  jeong  ,  when  she  was  thirteen  years  old  .  bo - ra  was  a  nasty  woman  ,  a  woman  who  didn’t  want  children  ,  and  believed  that  children  should  neither  be  seen  or  heard  .  although  madeleine  didn’t  know  her  biological  mother  ,  she  definitely  took  after  her  in  terms  of  personality  as  she  continuously  bumped  heads  with  her  step - mother  .  there  was  never  a  moment  where  the  two  weren’t  at  each  other’s  throats  ,  and  madeleine  was  especially  upset  with  her  father  for  never  taking  her  side  .

thus  ,  madeleine  became  an  angry  girl  who  took  all  of  her  frustrations  out  elsewhere  .  during  her  high  school  years  is  when  madeleine  made  her  youtube  channel  .  originally  ,  it  could  have  been  seen  as  a  place  where  she  ranted  out  her  frustrations  about  her  step - mother  ,  but  she  primarily  liked  the  aspect  of  doing  something  creative  .  for  the  first  year  ,  she  transitioned  out  of  ranting  lol  and  into  doing  things  she  actually  enjoyed  .  she  often  talked  about  clothing  ,  hair  ,  and  makeup  ,  but  the  subscriber  count  was  very  slow  .  

during  that  time  ,  madeleine  was  faking  being  ‘  relatable  ’  as  it  was  the  most  popular  way  to  grow  a  channel  ,  so  she  often  hid  the  designer  labels  in  her  bedroom  and  filmed  in  one  of  the  smaller  rooms  in  their  home  .  thanks  to  this  ,  her  subscriber  count  began  to  slow  ,  and  she  slowly  changed  back  to  her  actual  personality  where  she  began  to  show  off  the  things  she  or  her  father  purchased  for  her  .  

it  was  in  2014  when  madeleine  graduated  from  high  school  ,  and  her  step - mother  pushed  for  her  to  move  out  .  madeleine  was  annoyed  by  this  ,  but  with  her  channel  growing  ,  she  knew  that  she  was  able  to  do  so  .  not  only  that  ,  but  she  now  had  access  to  the  money  that  her  father  had  been  saving  for  years  ,  so  madeleine  left  and  decided  to  make  toronto  her  new  home  .

as  an  eighteen  year  old  moving  to  a  new  country  ,  madeleine  decided  that  she  would  document  the  journey  through  a  series  on  her  channel  ,  which  aided  in  the  boost  in  her  follower  count  .  she  showed  the  process  of  finding  an  apartment  ,  purchasing  furniture  and  moving  in  ,  which  led  to  a  lot  of  chaotic  vlogs  and  people  really  enjoyed  seeing  her  personality  shine  through  .

madeleine  has  now  been  living  in  toronto  for  the  last  six  years  ,  and  has  been  gaining  subscribers  slowly  but  surely  .  although  she  does  weekly  vlogs  ,  she  still  does  sit  down  videos  for  makeup  ,  fashion  ,  and  hair  .  

iii.  social  media  statistics  .

YOUTUBE  :  23.5m  subscribers  .

INSTAGRAM  :  21m  followers  .  

TWITTER  :  9.8m  followers  .

TIKTOK  :  3.2m  followers  .

iv.  temperament  .

she’s  a  bitch  and  that’s  that  on  that  OUYHUYOIU  .  she’s  very  blunt  and  doesn’t  find  a  reason  to  hold  her  tongue  because  how  the  hell  else  is  she  supposed  to  get  what  she  wants  .  of  course  ,  she’s  really  easy  to  get  along  with  but  it’s  also  equally  as  easy  to  get  on  her  bad  side  ,  so  she  can  turn  into  an  asshole  real  quick  .

madeleine  has  a  HUGE  superiority  complex  ,  and  it’s  so  ugly  !  she  doesn’t  outright  brag  because  she’s  really  not  that  bad  ,  but  it’s  not  unheard  of  her  to  make  little  subtle  remarks  in  reference  to  the  amount  of  money  her  family  has  .  to  put  it  simply  ,  madeleine  is  the  mean  friend  .

she’s  a  person  who  likes  to  challenge  almost  everything  ,  so  she  has  a  habit  of  coming  off  as  someone  who  creates  chaos  just  for  the  sake  of  it  .  she’s  definitely  not  a  stone  cold  bitch  by  any  means  ,  but  depending  on  certain  situations  she  can  sometimes  lack  sympathy  /  compassion  and  will  straight  up  tell  someone  to  ‘  get  over  it  ’  .   she  might  not  be  the  one  to  start  arguments  ,  but  she  will  finish  them  .

v.  headcanons  .

she  is  never  without  her  vlogging  camera  !  she  always  has  extra  batteries  in  her  purse  just  in  case  ,  so  she’s  ready  to  whip  out  her  camera  whenever  the  moment  calls  for  one  .

madeleine  is  a  pot  stirrer  and  she  wears  that  badge  with  pride  .  do  NOT  tell  her  a  secret  because  she  is  not  one  to  be  trusted  with  such  information  .  she  will  spill  the  beans  ,  tote  the  news  to  her  friends  (  especially  if  she  doesn’t  like  you  )  ,  and  be  hella  shady  .  she  will  literally  spill  your  tea  and  own  the  fact  that  she  did  .

her  hair  is  canon  to  rosé’s  as  she  was  a  strawberry  blonde  for  a  very  long  time  before  dying  it  with  a  silver  tone  with  blue  highlights  .  has  a  habit  of  always  touching  her  hair  and  forever  has  a  scrunchie  in  her  bag  because  she  can’t  live  without  them  .  

the  spare  bedroom  of  her  apartment  is  reserved  for  filming  ,  so  she  set  up  ‘  stations  ’  where  one  side  is  made  for  doing  makeup  videos  ,  another  is  used  for  fashion  /  standing  videos  ,  and  the  back  wall  is  where  she  films  sit  down  videos  .  she  mostly  loves  making  vlogs  ,  though  ,  and  she  does  weekly  videos  .

madeleine  is  calm  chaos  ,  which  is  the  best  way  to  explain  her  .  she  doesn’t  hold  her  tongue  (  per  her  headline  )  ,  and  she  doesn’t  really  hold  her  tongue  either  .  very  much  has  twitter  fingers  but  she  backs  it  up  .

vi.  wanted  connections  .

            my  favorite  part  aka  plots  !  i  find  rich  kids  rps  having  room  for  plenty  of  stuff  ,  so  if  none  of  this  works  or  if  there’s  something  else  you  want  to  do  ,  please  let  me  know  !  all  of  these  plots  are  open  to  female  ,  male  ,  and  non - binary  pals  ,  so  if  something  interests  you  as  well  please  yell  at  me  about  it  because  i  love  yelling  about  plots  NJFBHDBSJHDS  .  

give  me  an  ex - girlfriend  or  give  me  death  !  i’m  thinking  about  something  that  was  cute  and  soft  ,  someone  who  appeared  in  her  vlogs  a  lot  and  someone  who  her  subscribers  absolutely  adored  !  i’m  thinking  that  they  broke  up  on  relatively  mutual  /  good  terms  ,  so  they’ve  become  good  friends  since  their  break  up  !

due  to  her  personality  ,  i  wouldn’t  be  surprised  if  madeleine  found  herself  in  a  toxic  relationship  .  lots  of  back  and  forth  ,  lots  of  arguments  that  ended  in  them  quite  literally  kissing  and  making  up  ,  but  give  me  something  i’ll  dream  about  KNFDBSIFDS  .

i  don’t  really  have  a  label  for  this  one  ,  but  something  that  was  highly  disapproved  by  their  friends  /  inner  circle  ?  this  would  require  a  little  more  plotting  just  to  get  dynamics  down  ,  but  i’m  just  picturing  something  where  when  they  made  it  official  their  friends  were  like  ‘  why  would  you  date  them  ?  ’  so  there  was  probably  a  lot  of  moments  where  they  felt  like  it  was  them  against  the  world  but  i  think  it  could  be  an  interesting  dynamic  to  write  !

the  way  that  madeleine  has  enemies  is  sickening  !  i’m  looking  for  something  where  they  genuinely  hate  one  another  and  there’s  no  chance  of  them  EVER  becoming  friends  .  i  have  no  clue  as  to  why  they  wouldn’t  be  friends  ,  but  i  want  is  please  .

some  collaborators  !  people  who  show  up  on  her  igtv  reels  every  so  often  or  even  in  her  youtube  videos  (  in  videos  like  ‘  what  my  friend  wears  to  fashion  week  ’  or  even  general  vlogs  )  ,  and  they  go  on  little  adventures  with  one  another  !  i  just  think  it  could  be  something  cute  and  fun  !