#i’ve completely messed my sleeping schedule which is like the number one thing that always goes

[why-the-heck-not]

18.10.23, wednesday

gripping to my current mental health-levels with all my might bc can feel the seasonal plummet drafting its game plan for this years’ go time lol

things done over the last couple of days:

watched all 5 seasons of What We Do in The Shadows in 2 days

some hours of coding (didn’t rly have the study timer on but it’s like maybe 5-8h)

grocery store

[pucksnsticksnhockeyboys]

all my focus on you

summary: all of your focus is on Jake, and yet you can’t see that he loves you.

warnings: mentions of injury

word count: 3.2k

note from the writer: this is the first thing I've posted in months and I really like how it turned out. let me know what you think! also I didn’t edit it so sorry ahead of time.

“Who’s Tuna?”

You had heard the nickname tossed around a lot. At least, you were pretty sure it was a nickname. You were new to the world of hockey, having only really paid attention to the sport in the past few months as a result of your roommate, Jess, dating professional player Brock Boeser. Through him, you had met Elias, Quinn, Thatcher, Troy, and a whole assortment of others. But, Tuna still remained a mystery to you. Apparently, he was going to be joining your group out to the bar that night.

“You’ll like him.” Brock declared, giving you the same response he always did whenever you asked, while Elias’ smile turned the special kind of mischievous that only he could ever pull off. You didn’t have the chance to question how he could have been so certain, because Jess called your name and insisted that you start getting ready to go.

You’d never, not once in a million years, admit it that Brock was right.

You did like ‘Tuna’. A lot more than you probably should have. He was fun and outgoing from the moment Brock introduced you to him at the bar. Your heart stopped in your chest when you realized that Tuna was Jake Virtanen, your secret hockey crush. When Jess started seeing Brock, she showed you the entire Canucks roster. Jake’s piercing blue eyes struck out to you from the moment you saw his picture, but other than a ‘oh he’s cute’ and a mental note of his name and number, you kept quiet.

Now, he was standing before you, handing extended for you to shake with a dazzling smile that nearly made you forget your own name.

“I’m Jake.” He said brightly, and you offered your own smile in return as you slipped your hand into his meekly. Your face warmed at his touch, and if you possessed the ability to look away from Jake, you would have seen the shit-eating grin Brock wore. But you couldn’t, and instead you saw the way Jake’s gaze stayed on you, his own cheeks turning red. “What’re you drinking? I’m buying tonight.”

And thus, an amazing friendship grew. Which, for whatever reason, Brock seemed to loathe.

He was insistent that there was something more between you and Jake, which you vehemently denied, and each time your cheeks would burn brightly. It wasn’t as if you didn’t want anything more with Jake, in the few months that you had gotten to know him, he had become one of your closest friends and the person you told everything too.

And your secret hockey crush turned into full blown feelings. Most of your time was spent with him, even if you felt nothing but butterflies in your stomach whenever he was near. Only a few short months after meeting him, you couldn’t imagine your life without him. He was a constant presence in your life, as sure as you were that the sun would rise, you knew that Jake would be there for you.

With a schedule as crazy as a professional athlete’s, you jumped on any opportunity to spend time with Jake and any of the guys on the team, who all quickly became good friends of yours, along with their partners. Currently, you were at a diner, getting a quick lunch with Jake, Petey, and Brock, the two blondes sharing a side of the booth opposite of you.

Jake was in the middle of animatedly telling a story, and you watched with your undivided attention. Well, nearly undivided, since he had swung an arm around your shoulders shortly after sitting down and the simple contact had your heart beating like crazy. Petey had sent you no less than three shit-eating grins, and Brock was openly chuckling at how flustered you were. You were just thankful Jake was as oblivious as he was.

“You’re coming to the game tonight, right?” Jake asked, jostling you with the arm that was around his shouler to get your attention as soon as he finished his story. You nodded, taking a sip of your drink to cover up the fact that you had been openly staring at him as he spoke. “Perfect. Alright, I’ve got to run. I’m supposed to meet with my nutritionist.”

There was a chorus of ‘goodbyes’ as he tossed some cash on the table, enough to cover both his bill and yours, since he always insisted on paying for you. Before he could slide out of the booth, though, he pressed a quick kiss to your temple, an innocent act that had your heart doing cartwheels. You avoided Petey and Brock’s gazes, trying to will the heat in your cheeks away. It was only when the bell chimed on the door signalling that Jake had left, did someone speak up.

“Oh, come on!” Brock groaned, and you shot him a curious look. He ignored you, turning to face Elias, who was grinning in amusement. “I’m just going to tell her. It’s painful at this point.”

“Tell me what?” You question, nerves seeping into you, watching Elias shrug and grin wider. Instantly, your mind thought about the worst, like someone was getting traded or something similar, but nothing could have prepared you for what Brock said next.

“Jake is in love with you.”

“What? No, he’s not.” You spluttered, eyes wide and cheeks warm. Brock rolled his eyes at you, a scoff leaving his lips as if he thought his teammate’s apparent affection was obvious.

“He talks about you all the time.” Petey offered, and you fell silent. Elias wasn’t one to mess around with something like that. Sure, he made sly comments that had you laughing everytime, but this was different.

“He thinks you could never like him back, so we have to listen to him complain about it.” Brock’s tone was serious, but you could hear the subtle chirp. You pursed your lips, dropping your focus onto your plate to avoid meeting either of their gazes.

“You guys are ridiculous.” You settled on saying, though just because you dropped the conversation, it didn’t mean that you stopped thinking about it.

Even hours later as you were walking through the doors of the arena, you were still thinking about it. Though, you were quickly distracted as Jess led you through the crowd to find your seats and watch warm-ups.

Despite your inner turmoil, the Virtanen jersey felt right on your shoulders, now a regular part of your wardrobe. When Jake had found out that you had no idea about hockey, he had bought you the number eighteen Canucks sweater, along with tickets to just about every home game, claiming you were his good luck charm. When he gave you his jersey, he stated that it was to make your hockey experience complete—thought now you weren’t so sure.

Brock’s words from earlier in the day were still bouncing in your head. You had a hard time believing they were true, but then you thought over nearly every interaction you had with Jake. They all had a common theme—Jake was always looking at you with a softness to his eyes that you had, at the time, chaked up to his friendliness. Now, thinking back, you recognized the look. It was the same look you gave him.

A look of utter adoration and total love.

You settled into your seat to watch the game with a wide smile on your face, borderline giddy with the conclusion you had come to. You decided that after the game, when you would be going back to Jake’s for a movie night and a sleepover, a tradition that had been established after celebrating a win too hard one night and you spent the night at his place, and at the following brunch it was decided his guest room would be yours after any home games. Though, if you played your cards right, you wouldn’t be sleeping in the guest room.

Your happiness only lasted until halfway through the first period, and quickly dread formed in the pit of your stomach. The game was back and forth, neither team able to keep possession of the puck for very long. Petey scored first, and you cheered loudly, but clamped your mouth shut when a player on the opposite team—you couldn’t see a name on his jersey, and even so, you didn’t pay attention to any hockey team outside of Vancouver—started shoving Jake. Of course, Jake was running his mouth and shoving back, and it was only when a ref skated between the two players did you let out a breath of relief you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Apparently, Jake pissed off the other team a lot more than you originally thought.

You would have sworn he was being targeted. Everytime he was on the ice, it seemed, that an opposing player would check him into the boards. He wad getting hit hard from all angles, he got tripped twice but only drew a penalty on one—and if you screamed bullshit! at the ref, then who would have blamed you—and got into a fight late in the second after an opposing player shoved into Thatcher.

It was the third period when things really went awry.

It was the final minutes of the period, Vancouver up by one, thanks to Bo’s goal at the end of the second. The Canucks were fighting to hold on, maybe score an extra point to cement their victory, while the other team was getting desperate. And they were playing dirty, too.

You didn’t really register the gasp that fell from your lips as some unknown opponent slammed Jake into the boards, head on, with clear intent to injure him. You did remember jumping to your feet, as if that would make everything better.

Jess, who you hadn’t really acknowledged was sitting next to you in your stress, gripped your arm tightly. You watched in horror as Jake stayed down, hands holding his head as the athletic trainer jogged across the ice with the assistance of Troy Stetcher. You couldn’t tear your gaze away from Jake, but if you could, you would have seen Brock looking worriedly from his injured teammate to where he knew you were in the stands.

It felt like years later when Jake finally stood, and while leaning heavily on his trainer and Troy, he went down the tunnel. You sat down stifly into your seat, leg bouncing in nerves and fingers tapping an unknown pattern as you anxiously waited for the game to be over so you could check on Jake.

Five minute major, game misconduct.

Good, you thought, but you kept your mouth clamped shut as nausea swirl in your stomach. Distantly, you heard Jess say that the opposing player was most likely going to get fined for his actions. You knew hockey was a hard hitting sport, but that was terrible. You had seen Jake hurt before, blocked shots, highsticks, and the sorts—but not once had it taken him that long to get back up.

You couldn’t focus on the rest of the game, you were pretty sure that at some point Quinn had scored, but eventually Jess was leading you down to the tunnel where had to meet the other players. Holly, Bo’s wife, had tried to assure you that Jake would be fine the moment she saw you.

“He’s got a thick skull.” She tried to lighten the mood, but all you could muster was a weak smile and a laugh that sounded forced and foriegn to even your own ears. You listened to the other wives and girlfriends of players chatter about who knows what—certainly not you, you were staring at the door you knew the boys emerged from—for minutes. The girls knew you, how you were always around Jake, acting like a couple but not once taking that extra step, so they knew how stressed you were, waiting for the verdict.

Elias was the first one to exit the room, heading straight to you with a tiny, reassuring, smile on his face. Your arms were crossed tightly across your body, an indicator of just how uncomfortable you were in the moment.

“He’s fine. He’ll be out in a few minutes.” He told you quietly. Though it helped calmed you slightly, you couldn’t get the imagine of him laying on the ice out of your head. You nodded your head in thanks, before he patted your shoulder comfortingly and departed. Quinn was next out, shooting you a pitiful smile. Tanev, Toffoli, and Edler all came out before finally, the brunette you had been waiting for emerged with Brock at his side.

He looked terrible, his tie was loose around his neck, hair a mess from the quick post-game shower he had just taken. His shoulders were slumped, and he looked so tired that your heart clenched in your chest.

“How are you?” You asked quietly once he stopped before you. Jess and Brock left to give you some privacy, but you didn’t notice in the slightest. Your focus was on Jake—like it always was.

“A little beat up, nothing I can’t handle.” He waved off his injured like it was nothing. You pouted for a moment, knowing he was playing down the severity of it. He seemed to sense your disbelief, because he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and pulled you into his chest. You sank into the embrace, reciprocating the hug with a deep sigh.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again.” You threatened into the fabric of his suit, wrapping your arms tiger around his middle. He chuckled lowly, holding you just as tight in return. Your heart was thundering in your chest, your stomach a lightning storm of nerves.

“I’ll try not to.” He assured you quietly, dropping a kiss to top of your head. You thought back to your decision before the game, how you were going to confront both his feelings and yours, and decided that it could wait just a little bit longer.

“Come on, let’s get you home.” You mumbled, pulling away sightly. He nodded and you, and you were pleasantly surprised as he slipped his hand into yours, threading your fingers together, as you headed in the direction of his car.

You insisted on driving, and Jake only protested slightly. The ride was quiet, and you could tell something was bothering him, but chose to stay quiet and let him come to you when he was ready. Or at least until you got back to his home. Instead, you listened to his music play softly from the car as you weaved through the streets of Vancouver, taking the familiar path to Jake’s place.

When you finally arrived, he slipped into his bedroom to change into something more comfortable, and you made yourself comfortable on his couch. When he returned, he was in a Canucks hoodie and pair of grey sweats, and instead of sitting next to you on the couch, he laid across it so his head was in your lap. Instantly, your hand threaded though his hair and you scratched at his scalp, something you knew he loved. His eyes fluttered shut at the action, and he hummed contentedly.

“You scared me tonight.” You said softly after a moment. You tried to will away the tears that welled up in your eyes, remembering how it felt to see him laying on the ice, injured. It tore you in two, you had never felt more sick to your stomach at a sight than you did when he was down.

“I know.” He sighed queitly in response. Not trusting yourself to keep your voice steady, you chose not to respond right away. He reached a hand up, grabbing yours out of his hair and pressing a kiss to your palm, before threading your fingers through his and resting it on his chest.

And then, you couldn’t stop the words from tumbling past your lips—

“I love you too much to see you get hurt like that.” You hated how your voice cracked, and most of all you hated how you confessed your feelings. You wanted to do so during a happy moment, one shared with smiles and he’d tell you he felt the same, but no, you were holding back tears on his couch as he tensed, your words registering.

“What?” He questioned, sitting up abruptly. You would have thought that you had screwed everything up, if it weren’t for the near-death grip he had on your hand. Still, you couldn’t meet his gaze, and instead focused on the coffee table. Gently, with his free hand, he cupped your jaw, turning so you were facing him. It was then that you realized that you were crying, silent tear tracks running down your cheeks that he brushed away carefully as he studied your face intently. “What did you just say?”

“I love you.” You choked out, voice tight. “And I’m new to the hockey thing, so I’m not used to seeing hits like that and I—”

Your ramblings were cut short as Jake surged forward, connecting your lips to his. It took you a moment to react, but your free hand eventually moved to the back of his neck, your other still gripped in yours. The kiss wasn’t heated, but loaded with so much passion and emotion it made your head swirl. Months of casual flirting and innocent touches built to this moment, and you would be lying if you said you were aware of how long you actually were pressed against him.

Eventually, he did pull back, a wide and dopey grin on his face. You smiled just as brightly, the hand on the back of his neck toying slightly with the strands of hair there. Chasing your lips for a few quick pecks that your readily complied with.

“I love you, too.” He hummed, seemingly unable to tear his focus from you. You didn’t mind, not one bit, considering he had you attention from the moment you had met.

“I know.” You grinned, watching as his brows pull together in confusion, a silent question and urge for you to elaborate. With a giggle, you explained. “Brock told me.”

“Of course he did.” Jake groaned, tipping his head back. You chuckled at his dramatics, looking at him with the same fond look you always did. Only this time, you didn’t have to worry about him finding out. Your hand moved from behind his head to his jaw, thumb brushing across his cheekbone. You smiled as he brought his attenton back to you, and you leaned forward to press a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. “You know, he’s been trying to set me up with you this entire time.”

“Yeah, he told me that I’d like you the night we met. He and Petey were planning this.” You explained, watching as he lifted your joined hands and kissed the back of yours, a barking laugh leaving him as you finished your sentence.

“Was he right?” He asked cheekily, swinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest so he could cuddle you. You admired him with a soft smile, watching as he grabbed the remote on the couch beside him to put on a movie. Never in a millions years would you admit that Brock was right, but you with the way Jake was smiling, you decided to make an acception.

“Definitely.”

[comehomeducklings]

Past [Part 2] (Obsession)

A/N: Some chapters will be named with either “Past,” “Present,” or “Future,” then their numbered part coming right after it. This is to confuse you less when flashbacks or anything happens. As you have probably noticed, it says “Past” for Part 2. This is going back near when Tom and her just met. Thank you for reading! <3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Tom Riddle's Moodboard

Main Character's Moodboard

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

1940 - 3rd year

“Potions is not that bad, I swear. You just have to be good at measuring.”

At the table, my friends and I are discussing our classes this year. Potions being one of my favorite topics. Devyn absolutely loathes that certain class. We have to drag her there to make sure she doesn’t skip. Poor girl tries her best to not mess up but the cauldron always ends up blowing up. I even watched her do every step once, never missing a beat. The potion still ended up failing, even though she did everything correctly. She gave up after a while, who wouldn’t. I help her do extra assignments for extra credit to keep her grade up. She also studies with me to make sure she can memorize everything and pass her tests. Amelia is pretty good at the class, she’s luckily paired with Devyn most of the time. Carrying the potion to success, with a little bit of my secret help. It’s not cheating, it’s using your resources.

I’m resources.

“Potions is not that bad,” Devyn mocks me. “If it weren’t for you two I would have gone insane in that stupid class.”

Amelia just laughs at her while eating her hash browns on the plate. She reaches her hand out to take some more eggs.

“You were able to do it before. Not the way you were supposed to, but it worked,” Amelia says.

“Exactly, just start doing it your way at this point. I don’t think Slughorn will care how it’s done, just how it comes out.”

Devyn nods her head and points at me with a fork. Her mouth full of food so she settles for that response. My plate doesn’t have much other than some bacon and fruit. I’m not usually a breakfast eater. I get my appetite at lunch and dinner time. It’s just too early for a bunch of food smells, the smells make me kind of nauseous. I’ll eat though, enough to hold me off till lunch.

The chatter in the lunchroom rises by the minute. Everyone refilling themselves before their busy day. All energy levels rising while everyone wakes up from their groggy morning mood. While my friends finish eating we continue to talk about our classes and share the schedules for this year. Most classes we had were the same except for our electives. I tried taking as many electives as possible. My family back home never really did magic. I actually came a year and a half late since my family wanted me to have a normal school experience. I learned to do everything without the use of magic, the only thing my mom taught me was the floo network, creatures, and plants. I would often accompany her to Diagon Alley when she shops. I got an Owl for my 10th birthday. A cat would have been amazing if I wasn’t allergic to it. My owl is a brown and white-furred barn owl. Don’t ask me why I named it Bartholomew. I was ten okay, give me a break. Speaking of the floo network, my mom had to chase me through it quite often because I kept teleporting everywhere. I once ran into the Ministry of Magic’s building and got lost. They had to take me home to my parents. Their faces told me everything I needed to know about the punishment waiting for me.

Halfway through the second year is when I came to Hogwarts, a second letter coming that year asking my parents to let me learn more there. So when they finally let me attend, everything was pretty new to me. My mother was the magic one in the family. Her grandmother, my great-grandmother, before her had the magic gene. Going to school was the same experience as going from a muggle-borns perspective. The difference is, I knew more about its existence. I would look at yearbooks my mom had from when she went here. She earned a lot of titles, all the achievements being recorded down. I always wondered why she never wanted me to come here. Did something happen to me, to her? I’m guessing she just wanted a normal life with dad. He has always supported her through everything. A love, a bond like that is hard to come by. He would also learn about magic right next to me. At least, the stuff my mom allowed to let us know.

That’s why I want to learn as much as I can, of what’s available. Why learn math in the muggle world when I could be learning divination. Spells of all types, potions for everything of inconvenience. My chores could be completed with just a flick of my wand. I’ve lately been learning wandless magic, on my own. Albus has helped by providing me with material to study that type of magic. The only thing I’ve managed so far is a spark coming from the tips of my fingertips. Sparking hope that I could actually, maybe, achieve that level. Now I won't get my hopes up, but that can lead me to a certain advantage in dueling. That being one of my weakest skills. Always panicking, saying any spells that pop up in my mind, and making random movements coming from my wand. Often confusing who I’m up against, although they recover from that confusion fairly quickly.

Riddle, met him once. One too many if you would ask me. I dissuade ever wanting to speak to him. Arrogance and pride flow through his tongue like second nature. I do take pride in succeeding above him in 3 classes. He is 2 classes above me but, that’s not the point. I do admit, he’s attractive. Only a little though, how else would he charm his way through the professors and students.

“Alright, I’m ready to go. You guys done?”

“Yeah,” I say. Devyn and I start leaving our seats and heading towards the huge doors.

Amelia hurried from her seat, a few steps behind since she took some fruit with her to eat on the way. More and more students also started making their way towards the first period. Not wanting to be blamed for the loss of house points. This system causes so many fights, everyone’s competitive side getting the best of their common sense. I would be lying if I said it didn’t get the best of me before. Amelia being her usual bubbly self skips backward while chatting with us. Before we could warn her to stop, she pushes someone ahead of her. Both falling down, hitting the floor. She spins her head extremely quickly, her hair sticking in her mouth from the force of the wind.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” she explains. Quickly trying to digest her situation. I make my way towards her and pull her up. I fix her robe and dust off any dirt on the cloth from the floor.

“Clearly idiot, can you not use those bug eyes of yours to see?”

Devyn and I make eye contact. We understand that there are witnesses here, and one of them is bound to snitch on us if we fight. A huge scene would probably make Amelia feel even more embarrassed as well. Instead, I guided Amelia by her back. We continue on to class while I comfort her. Devyn is staying back to “talk” to the guy. Lestrange is in for it now, any poor soul would be when in the fiery path of her anger.

Devyn’s loud yells could still be slightly heard when entering the potions classroom. First class of the year, and day. On Slughorn’s table, I can see a vial with the wideye potion contained inside. I set Devyn’s textbook on her station, turning to the page that contains information on the potion. Hoping to save her confusion and time.

“Welcome, welcome! Nice to see some old faces, and new ones,” he says with the biggest grin on his face. “Today we’ll be learning about the Wideye potion. Can anyone tell me what this potion does?”

I quickly raise my hand, rather eager. I did some reading about a lot of potions during the summer. Trying to get a headstart on my studies. This potion being one of them. Only 3 students raised their hand, one of them being me. The other, well, Riddle.

“Yes, go ahead and answer,” the professor looks my way.

I smile, “The wideye potion prevents the person consuming the liquid the ability to fall asleep. Which is often used in the medical field to wake someone from a sleep caused by a blunt force or drug.”

“Precisely! 10 points.”

I look back rather smugly at Riddle, rather happy I got chosen instead of him. I know, he could have easily answered that too. I’ll let myself bask in the small achievement for now. 30 minutes of class is just spent writing down notes, preparing us for the potion we will make. Note-taking is my favorite, especially the little doodles I get to make. We use a feather instead of the regular pen. I found it rather amusing and liked the certain feeling of writing with it. The dipping noise that the point of the feather makes when hitting the liquid ink is a very profound sound. No real writer’s bump forming on my fingers.

“That’s enough writing, I need you all to prepare your cauldron, gather the materials you need, and start your potion. If done correctly, tomorrow when we add the finishing touches and check on it the potion should be a blue/green color,” Slughorn comments. “You have 10 minutes to study your notes, then the rest of the class to make your potion. No looking back at your notes after those ten minutes.”

After scanning my notes, I stand up and walk towards the ingredients on the shelves. If I remember correctly my potion requires snake fangs, standard ingredient, and wolfsbane. I gather all that in my hand and set it down near my cauldron. Before I start, I take a moment. I’m missing something, I’m sure there was another ingredient.

Wolfsbane, check.

Snake fangs, six of them.

I have the measures of Standard ingredient.

There’s one more, I try to look around the room. Then I remember that we get an automatic failing grade if caught cheating. There’s no way I’ll let my grade drop like that. Over something so small and inconvenient too. Making my way to the shelves, I scan over the ingredients over and over again. Trying to see if any of the names pop out to me.

No.

Definitely not.

That’s an ingredient?

I don’t even want to know how that one was obtained.

This one, of course it’s this one. I even remember putting a star next to the name in my notebook. Dried Billwig stings, I believe six of them were needed. All that time wasted. Hurrying to my seat I get to work. The time goes by quickly, all that could be heard was the sizzling and whooshing of our potions. I almost knocked down my vials a couple of times. Someone actually did, their time spent on cleaning the glass off the floor. After heating the first three ingredients, I crush them together in the mortar. Then stir clockwise from what I recall, three times specifically. Finally, I wave my wand over then leave it to brew.

Just in time from the looks of it. I glance at Devyn to see how it went for her, and she looks pretty proud of herself. I take that as a blessing that it didn’t blow up this time of round. I’m guessing she took our advice and did it her own way.

A student raises his hand, “May we leave?”

“Oh yes yes, go ahead. No assignments for the first day, only the potion you made in class.”

Before I leave the classroom I examine Riddle’s station. He already left the room. His potion looks similar to how mine turned out, his workspace thoroughly cleaned. Everything used properly placed back to where it should be. Perfectly spotless, not a single speck of dust in sight. All done without magic too, surprising for someone born into the wizarding world. When I mentioned that I met him once, it wasn’t much of anything. The only way I know how he really acts is through other people. Much admire his intelligence and strong will. Others are jealous of the potential he holds for the future.

Girls are already trying to slip love potions into his drinks. I would feel bad if he wasn’t so rude to them. Only just before touching the disrespectful line. He almost drank one of their attempts before. Wouldn’t want to imagine how that turned out. Tom riddle, in love. That man probably doesn’t know the feeling of happiness, let alone love. I feel bad for his future girlfriend, she’s going to have to deal with a handful of baggage.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

“How much do you want to bet Nott will demolish him?” A Gryffindor girl to my left whispers.

Nott, part of Riddle’s group from what I’ve seen. They all eat lunch together and talk to one another so it’s a reasonable guess. Very talented duellist, one of the bests here.

“I hate to admit it, but he’ll definitely win this. I’ll still have hope for the other guy though,” I whisper back trying not to sound mean.

Nott and the other Slytherin boy are up right now. It’s a courtesy for the audience to stay quiet until someone casts the first attack or defense. From then on all you will hear is shouting of encouragement and the opposite. Nott’s eyes are focused, zoning in on the opponent before him. His wand is steady, mouth slightly parted to breathe through better. Whole-body alert and tense waiting for something. From what I'm getting, I believe he’s waiting for the Slytherin boy to go first. Nott casts spells quickly and thinks them through decently. Sometimes you're not able to create a counter-spell quick enough to defend yourself against him.

Riddle’s group and himself are near the corner of the platform. All seemingly analyzing every breath he inhales and exhales. I finally hear the whoosh of a wand and a whiz of light fly past the platform. The glow from the spell lighting our faces for a millisecond. Nott quickly counters that spell and moves to cast his own. Magic flies across the platform, all of our eyes going back and forth like a ping-pong match. The Slytherin boy starts breaking a sweat. He’s only been able to get a couple of offensive spells in there, most of his plays spent throwing off Nott’s. If he doesn’t turn the battle soon, the outcome will become very clear.

It is a little less exciting since we only know a handful of spells. So whatever you know from your own studies you use in these duels. When we move up the years the class will become more serious and dangerous. Right now it’s just to teach us how to counter and cast quickly. The proper etiquette and movement. You use spells that you know, they aren’t supposed to harm someone. Either stun them, make them fly back, or disarm. Most of those spells require a little of a higher level, most of us not even knowing of its existence yet. So what’s mostly cast between competitors is a basic spell to exert force. That force should be aimed for the legs, or the wand to disarm that way. The way someone can win here is to make their knees or hands touch the floor, or disarm their wand. As I mentioned, it will get more intense as time goes by. We're only just starting 3rd year right now, a lot more charms will be learned later on.

I shake my head to get rid of any lingering thoughts. My attention goes right back to the duel taking place in front of me. Nott quickly aims a spell at the knees and manages to bring the other boy to his knees.

“Mr. Nott wins this duel! Please step off the platform, we will evaluate your performance.”

During the practice duels today, you watch it, think of ways to help the person improve, and point out things they might have done wrong. At the end, the professor picks people raising their hands to allow them to give their feedback. Participating is part of the grade you get in here. I personally prefer giving feedback then dueling. I’m not the best at casting, I do give out good defense spells though. That should mean something, I hope.

“Let’s start with Nott, does anyone have feedback for him?”

A couple of people spread apart raised their hands. One by one they all ask questions and give feedback. They mention his feet and posture when he stands. Arms fully stretched out where it would have been more flexible to bend it slightly. When he casts he shouldn’t be walking backward. They shortly switch to the other boy’s questions and feedback. The way he never gave himself the opening to cast an offensive spell often. He would move around his area a lot. Almost slipping off the stage during one of those movements. Tom and his group privately discussed with one another. They’re probably giving Nott their own feedback and suggestions privately.

“Now, Riddle I want you to come up and…,” he scans the room for another student. After some time he points his finger at me. “You.”

I could have had a smooth sailing class. I was so close to not having to go up there. My hands start sweating a bit, my anxiety jumbling my thoughts together. Riddle’s already up there and soon to be on his side of the platform. Taking his wand out and wandering his fingers over the design. I gulp, a big toad stuck in my throat. I wipe my hands on my robe and start up the stairs. Riddle seems as unbothered as ever. We bow, turn, then walk ten paces back. During this time I try predicting who will cast first. I don’t know him very well, I’ve also never seen him duel.

I take my dueling stance and wait for the signal to start. Hoping, praying, that I don’t embarrass myself. Slipping up is not allowed, not when going against him.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

Taglist:

@empath-bunny

[feliix]

Crush Culture ✦ KTH (18+)

✦ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

✦ Rating: M ✦ Word Count: 14k (screams)

✦ Genre: fluff, angst, smut, fake dating!au

✦ Summary:  Once summer hits and you return to work at the local ice cream shop, you’re swarmed with couples coming in on lovey-dovey on dates. You’ve always hated the idea of relationships and love, but it’s Taehyung’s mission to make you reconsider by the end of the summer.

✦ Warnings: childhood friends 2 lovers, idiots 2 lovers unprotected sex, fingering, pining, soft sex, light mentions of marking, mentions of bad past relationships, Tae is kinda a player but he turns out alright

✦ A/N: a big big thank you to the lovely @hobiance​​ for helping me plan yet another fic and @jinned​ for giving me the much needed support and hyping me up until I finished my first long boi ilysm ♡ also thank you to my lovely beta @jinterlude​ who I would be completely illiterate without! the most beautiful banner you’ve ever seen is made by none other than my baby @koophoriia​ ily bunbunbun

Written for the BHQ Bangtan Boardwalk Collaboration

Taglist: @krystle1990​ @imluckybitches​

“Gross”

Another couple. Probably the 50th overly lovey-dovey pair that you’ve seen this evening alone. The shop is packed full of them on warm nights like this.

To say ‘love’ isn’t really your thing isn’t far from the truth. Relationships suck. Been there, done that.

You always keep the same theory; relationships either end in heartbreak or marriage. And even still, marriage can still end in heartbreak, so what’s the point?

“Stop being dramatic,” Taehyung laughs after catching your snide remark from around the corner. He had just run to the back to get you a fresh package of cups after using up all the stock in the front.

Tonight is busy, to say the least. The sun is setting, and it’s the perfect time for families and couples alike to come in and get a cold and tasty treat, especially on a day as hot as this one. It’s over 100º, and the humidity is doing a real number to your hair.

“It’s not dramatic,” you sigh, leaning on the counter behind you as Taehyung maneuvers around you, placing the cups on the shelf underneath.

It’s just the two of you on the schedule tonight. Your boss is kind of an asshole, leaving 2 ‘kids’ in their early twenties to run the shop by themselves while he went off to do god knows what. Probably at the bar across the street, since his car is still parked in the back, but he’s nowhere to be found. That’s okay though, it's better than having him loom over your shoulder and critique your scooping texture the whole shift.

“Whatever you say,” Taehyung shakes his head.

Unlike yourself, Taehyung is a hopeless romantic, always looking for love in the wrong places. It always seems that his relationships never work out though, which has always confused you – Taehyung is a great guy.

So great that you have been best friends with him for as long as you could remember. It all started that time in pre-k, where you poured a shovel of sand on his head in the sandbox. Initially, it did make him cry, but he got over it eventually. Ever since, he’s been right by your side, sandy hair and all.

“How much longer,” your eyes roll back in your head, neglecting to look at the watch on your wrist in fear that your shift has a significant amount of time left.

“Just under an hour, we should start the closing checklist so we can get outta here,” Tae responds as he reaches for the rag and sanitation bucket.

Nodding your head, you follow his plan – beginning your mission to clean like a speed demon so you can leave at 8 o’clock on the dot. You’ll be damned if a customer comes in at 7:58, but there's always one Karen that comes as you’re about to lock the doors. You hate those Karens.

Lucky for you, closing tonight went as smoothly as it can go. You and Taehyung are ready to go at 8 on the dot, clocking out and locking up behind you.

“So what are we doing tonight?” Taehyung asks, his fingers adjusting the headband that sits just above his forehead.

“I was gonna go home and sleep…” you trail off, avoiding eye contact with him. You know his eyes are much too convincing to look into, and you are beyond exhausted from working a double today.

“Booooo you’re boring,” he teases, stopping in his tracks in the center of the parking lot, “it was an early night we should do something.”

With a deep sigh, you stop as well, turning around to meet his suggestive smirk. He knows he’s about to get his way before you have the chance to argue back with him. So you tilt your head, waiting for him to explain what he has in mind.

“I’ll be at your house by 9.”

And with that, you’re starting the ignition to your car and racing home, carefully, of course.

Taehyung is always spontaneous like this.

After making it home and rushing to get ready, Taehyung was there to pick you up, a few minutes late, but that’s just par for the course. When you end up at your favorite boba spot, you know Taehyung wants to talk about something. He never wants to sit down at a place like this just for small talk, you’ve picked up on his signs and can read him like a book.

But when you finally get your drink and sit at your favorite table in the back corner, he doesn’t say much. It’s almost like he’s waiting for you to speak up. His eyes staring down at his drink instead of sipping it, hands rested in his lap with his lip caught between his teeth. It’s puzzling, slightly, you thought he wanted to hang out tonight and do something adventurous…

The awkward silence and lack of gestures from Taehyung is starting to make you uncomfortable, so you decide to take matters into your own hands.

“How are things going with that girl,” you ask before bringing the straw of your tea to your lips, sipping nonchalantly.

“Oh yeah,” he sighs, his fingertips drumming along the surface of the table, “it didn’t really work out.”

When it comes to Taehyung, relationships never really seem to work out. To say it lightly, he is extremely picky. His last relationship ended because he thought the girl breathed too loudly. The girl before that had an annoying laugh,  and then the one before that bit her nails.

Eventually, his pickiness has become a trend to the point that Taehyung will entertain a girl for a month or so. Then, he'll find something so minuscule within the said girl and turn it into a dealbreaker. The nit-picking things are way too much to move past for Taehyung. It’s clear that he is in search of the ‘perfect woman,’ like that even exists.

“You’re probably better off.”

You don’t think much of the words before they leave your lips. Relationships are a ton of work, is it really worth it to put all your effort into something like that? There is a way to just be happy on your own, you know.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He’s taken back by your statement, his eyebrows furrowing in response as he waits for your answer.

“You know what I think,” you tilt your heat matter-of-factly, “relationships are a waste of time.”

“What is with you and all this ‘anti-love’ stuff anyway?”

His question catches you off guard, a boba bubble almost catching in your throat leaving you a coughing mess. Taehyung chuckles at your discomfort, waiting patiently for you to get it all out and answer his question.

“I’ve wasted too much time with too many dead-beat guys to even think about love,” you sigh again, your coughing fit subsiding as you reach for your boba once again.

“Not all guys are dead-beats, you know.”

His words come out harsh, almost as if he finds your words offensive. Like you are meaning to group him in with all the guys you’ve dated in the past. Which is strange, Taehyung knows that he’s different. For one, you’ve never dated him before and two, if he was such a dead-beat you wouldn’t have kept him around for so long.

You can’t talk to guys, or most people like you talk to Taehyung. He’s the one you rant about the dead-beats to, along with everything else under the sun. He knows all the shit that you don’t tell anyone else, he’s like your own personal human diary. Secrets are always safe with him, it's not like he has anyone who would listen to the gossip even if he wanted to tell.

After a minute of silence Taehyung’s expression changes, his eyes squinting at you in that ‘I have a crazy idea’ type of way. It’s a look that you see often, and you couldn’t say that you would ever be used to it.

“Okay then I’ll make you a deal,” he proposes, a glimmering look in his eye that made you somewhat nervous. You never know what you are getting with Taehyung, but most of the time his ‘deals’ are on the crazier side.

“What is it?” You still ask although you’re a bit nervous to hear his answer. If his plan is to set you up with one of his delinquent friends or something–

“Be my girlfriend.”

Your eyes widen as the words leave his lips, confusion taking over your expression as a small chuckle leaves his lips. He can't be serious…

“Your what?”

“Two weeks is all I’m asking for. Be my girlfriend for just two weeks, and I’ll show you that love isn’t as shitty as you think it is.”

“You’re crazy,” you shake your head, a disbelieving smile stretching wide across your face.

“C’mon Y/N,” he challenges, “it’s two weeks of your life, what else do you have to do?”

The quirk of his eyebrow and quick squint of his eyes grabs your attention. He’s serious about this, scarily serious, and you aren’t quite sure how to react to that.

“What’s in it for you?” Your chin falls into your palm as you stare at him, waiting for his response.

“Well for one,” he starts, a sigh leaving his lips, “I won’t have to listen to you complain about how much relationships suck anymore.”

Just when you don't think you can roll your eyes any further into the back of your head, your own actions surprise you. If looks could kill, the one you’re giving him right now would surely take him out. He doesn’t pay much mind to it though, he’s used to your sass and just shrugs it off.

“This is an awful idea,” you glare at him as if it will change his mind. You’re certain this experiment of his would not change your own. Love sucked, and that was that.

“Two weeks,” his voice carries a taunting tone, his eyebrows wiggling to entice you into his plan. He isn’t going to give up on this easily, you know Taehyung. And Taehyung always gets his way.

“Fine,” you huff, “two weeks and that’s it. And if my mind isn’t changed you owe me 3 more of these,” you say, picking up your tea from the table and shaking it at eye-level for emphasis.

His bottom lip catches between his teeth, satisfied with your response. He isn’t exactly sure how he’ll manage to pull this off, but he’s definitely up for the challenge.

“We start tomorrow at 8, I’ll pick you up after work.”

Crossing your arms over the table, you bury your head in your arms. This is going to be the most interesting two weeks of your entire life.

“So you’re like dating dating?” Lainey’s jaw drops, excitement prevalent on her face as you spill about your night with Taehyung.

Lainey is the only person in your life that understood your hatred for relationships, other than Taehyung of course. Not that she shares the hatred herself, she just heard enough about how much you despise being in one to know how you felt.

Along with Taehyung, Lainey is your best friend. And she’s the only person in this world that you can bear to work a double with on a Saturday.

“That's the plan,” you sigh fiddling with the scoops behind you. It’s pretty slow for a Saturday afternoon, not many customers have come in since you opened up at 11.

That’s the thing about working at an ice cream shop – it sucks when it's slow, and it sucks when it's busy. Though it isn't a miserable job, you at least have Tae and Lainey to keep you company.

The smirk on Lainey’s face hasn’t disappeared since you told her about Taehyung’s deal. She’s shocked that you actually agreed to something like this, especially since it’s with Taehyung. The same Taehyung that ended a 3-month relationship last year because the girl ‘smelled like peaches.’ It’s only a matter of time until Taehyung finds your own deal-breaking trait.

“For the record,” you turn to look at Lainey, a grin still evident on her face, “I don’t think this is gonna change my mind.”

“Y/N,” Lainey whines as she draws out the last syllable of your name, plopping herself down in a chair to pout. “Stop being so…so…”

“So?”

Her face crinkles as she racks her brain for the word, rubbing her temples in hopes that it will come to her. Your eyebrow crooks in response, a slight chuckle leaving your lips as you wait.

“Pessimistic!” Lainey’s face lights up as it finally comes to her. She does have a point. It’s been a while since you actually let anyone in

“You know Taehyung, you never know, maybe something could happen,” her eyebrows lift at the end of her sentence, too suggestively for your own comfort.

“Okay no, that's exactly why this is only two weeks. I know Taehyung, he’ll be over it in 2 weeks.”

“Whatever you say,” the pitch of her voice is raised teasingly. She doesn’t believe this will be a two-week thing.

Lainey has been friends with you and Taehyung for 4 summers now. Once she started working at the ice cream shop with you two it was an automatic connection. Letting her into your little clique with no hesitation, you quickly became 3 peas in a pod.

But Lainey sees a lot of things that you aren’t able to see for yourself. You had grown up with Taehyung, grown accustomed to his unique mannerisms and behaviors without even noticing. Lainey, on the other hand, has a different point of view.

She sees the way Taehyung looks at you and how he hangs on each and every word that leaves your mouth. How he longs to make you laugh, watching you with a growing grin each time a chuckle passes through your lips. She notices every behavior that you see as nothing more than ‘friendly.’ But who is she to say? So, for now, the information remains tucked away and stored in her mind for a later date.

Your fingers drum on the glass cover of the freezer beneath you, leaning against it as you wait for a customer to come in. All this time with nothing to do is really doing wonders for your imagination; thinking about what Taehyung has planned for the two of you to do tonight. Nothing special, you hope, he really doesn’t need to go all out for this.

“He’s picking me up after work”

“Oooh he’s picking you up?”

“Shut up,” your eyes roll at her teasing nature, growing slightly embarrassed by how giddy it’s making you. It’s just Taehyung, and you are just hanging out like you do every other night.

The rest of you shift flies by – it always does when you work with Lainey. Before you know it, the closing checklist is coming to an end, only a few steps left before you can finally get out of here. The clock had just turned to 7:55 pm, but Taehyung still isn’t here. Not that you’re expecting him to be on time or anything, this is still the same Taehyung you have always known.

What you aren’t familiar with is the nervous butterflies fluttering around in your tummy as the clock approaches 8pm.  What are you even nervous about? It isn’t a blind date, other than the fact that you have no idea what you’re doing. And it isn’t even a date. It’s Taehyung for crying out loud.

Speaking of the devil, the chimes in the front of the shop ring as Taehyung passes through the doorway. You don’t see who it is at first, your back turns to the door as you sweep behind the counter. The chimes ringing at this time of night do trigger your fight or flight instincts though, ready to turn to whoever is approaching and give them a dirty look for coming in this close to closing time.

But once you turn around and see Taehyung standing in the doorway with a bouquet of sunflowers, your tension quickly subsides. You swear that you can feel your heart skip a beat, heat rising to your cheeks as you try your hardest to form a manageable sentence. It's okay that you aren’t able to, though, the surprised look on your face is enough for his own to light up and beam across the room.

“I’m here to pick up the pretty girl with the coffee ice cream stain on her shirt,” he chuckles, his bottom lip catching between his teeth.

He dressed a lot nicer than usual attire; a dress shirt with a loose pair of slacks dressing his slim figure. His hair is light too, much different than the dark brown curls that frame his face. He’s really going all out for this – and you’re wearing a pair of running shorts and an ice cream stained t-shirt.

Lainey is just as stunned as you are, frozen in her spot with her jaw practically on the floor. She looks at you with wide eyes, her eyebrows raising as a smug expression crosses her face. You look in her direction, about to ask if she’s alright to finish closing on her own, but before you’re able to say anything she’s already shooing the two of you out the door.

With a goofy grin displayed across his face, he hands you the bundle of flowers, tied together with a delicate white ribbon. You mumble a thank you, still stunned that he showed up here looking like that to take you out tonight. So he is the romantic type, note taken.

“You like nice,” you gulp nervously. It already feels like a date and you haven’t even left the parking lot yet. If this is how things are going to start you had an exciting 13 more days ahead of you...

“As do you,” he smirks, his eyes wandering down to the small brown stains littering your shirt. Eyes narrowing, you read the expression crossing his face – of course, he’s joking. “I brought you some fresh clothes to change into don’t worry.”

Relief rushes through your body as the words leave his lips.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

An interesting yet on-brand response from Taehyung. He’s a big fan of surprises – as long as he’s not on the receiving end.

The drive to your destination seems long. You aren’t quite sure how long you’ve been on your way; between the agile back seat changing of clothes, which you are surprisingly skilled at, and the anticipation coursing through your veins, you’ve lost track of time All you know is that you’ve been driving through backroads for at least 15 minutes, and the destination doesn’t seem anywhere near.

“This is it.” The car pulls into a small dirt parking lot, dimly lit by some dingy street lights that aren’t doing such a great job illuminating things. Your eyebrow crooks unintentionally – this was it?

Your eyes wander outward as Taehyung parks the car, unable to see anything further than a 10-foot radius.

“Where are we?” The question leaves your lips in a worried fashion. Trees surround the parking lot on all three-sides, while the road you've pulled in from occupies the fourth-side. You’re hesitant to get out of the car, but as Taehyung rounds the front and opens the door for you, you’re on your way out. He motions for you to hold on as he pops the trunk – returning with a blanket and a reusable shopping bag filled with god knows what.

He still hasn’t given an answer to your question though, and you still aren’t quite sure where you are. If It was lighter out you assume it would be beautiful here, all the greenery dark and shadows hovering over you from the trees.

The bright light from his cell phone flashlight lights up the way, a path on your right

“Hell no,” your arms cross over your chest as you stand still in your place. He’s out of his mind if he thinks you’re going into the woods this late at night. You’ve seen enough horror films, stuff like this never ends well.

“C’mon, it’s not as bad as it looks,” Taehyung laughs at your pouting manner, amusement filling his system as you glue your feet to the ground of the parking lot. His puppy dog eyes plead for you to follow him, a hand outreaching in your direction for the taking. You contemplate it for a moment, your eyes narrowing as you ponder the possible outcomes of the situation before you.

“Fine,” you huff as you take his hand in yours.

His hand feels different in yours this time. His long fingers lacing between your smaller ones in the perfect fit that you’ve neglected to notice before. You’ve held his hand before, platonically though. This time it’s platonic too though, right? It’s just a date. A platonic date between two friends. Two friends who are dating on a two week trial period. So yes, it is strictly platonic. Right?

The dirt path doesn’t drag on for too long, but the sounds of bugs ticking and twigs breaking beneath your feet is enough to startle you. Every scared and breathy gasp that  leaves your mouth is followed by a small fit of laughter from Taehyung. At least one of you is amused.

But the dirt path soon turns rocky, a clearing becoming more and more noticeable as Taehyung’s flashlight brightens the way ahead of you. The rows of trees come to an end as the ground flattens, a giant slab of rock lying beneath your feet. Out ahead of you is completely dark, and until you approach the darkness you don’t notice that you’re just a few yards away from the edge of a cliff. A river lies below the edge, the sound of water rushing fills your ears and calms your nerves. It is quiet out here, peaceful and without distraction.

Taehyung stands back as you admire the scenery around you – your own phone flashlight now out and panning around to look at the view. It’s beautiful out here, nothing to worry about but the sounds of the water and whatever Taehyung is doing behind you…

You couldn’t have zoned out for more than 2 minutes, but once you turn back around to face him a picnic blanket lies on the ground before you. Snacks scatter the extent of the fabric, a few candles placed in the center

“You really went all out for this, huh?” A nervous laugh leaves your lips before you swallow harshly. Never in your life has a guy ever gone all out like this for you. A late-night picnic at a secret location, fixed with all of your favorite snacks and some candles for ambiance.

“Had to,” he smiles, “it’s our first date.”

You join him on the blanket, grabbing for a bag of popcorn as you sit down. Maybe relationships wouldn’t suck so much if all men treated you like this…

Woah woah woah. It’s just Taehyung. Taehyung who already knows all your favorite things to eat. He’s just trying to be convincing – to prove to you that men take you on dates, do nice things. But stuff like this never lasts. Two weeks from now you’ll be going back to the same old Tae and Y/N friendship that you’ve always had.

The conversation goes on as normal tonight, he doesn’t make any moves (as expected, it’s Taehyung) and you enjoy the view and calm atmosphere with your fake but not so fake boyfriend. You stay out on the cliff for a few more hours before he takes you home. Taehyung put a lot of effort into making tonight special, and you appreciate him for that. But even after all his effort, you know that real relationships aren’t like this.

Every guy you’ve dated would try to woo you over in the beginning too. They call it the honeymoon stage for a reason. Things are always great in the beginning, lavish gifts and dates, loving gestures. That kind of thing never lasts. Soon the effort runs out, the guy gets bored of putting the work in, and they end up sleeping with your freshman year roommate. Well, at least that's how it is for you.

The bundle of sunflowers Taehyung gave to you earlier on in the night sits on the end table next to your bed. Each time you look at them all you can picture is the goofy grin he sported as he stood at the entrance of the ice cream shop. It replays in your mind like a movie. How he dressed up all spiffy just to take you out. How he took you to a spot only he knew about, somewhere so off-site and serene that he knew you’d remain uninterrupted. You can’t help but wonder if he’s using the same old tricks on you that he does to other girls though. If he only knew about that place because he’s taken someone there before.

Not that it matters though, you aren’t his real girlfriend. You’re just on a trial period. But for some reason the thought that he might have brought another girl to the same spot before doesn’t sit well with you.

“Sooooo,” Lainey teases, her chin falling into her palm as she leans on the freezer before her, “how was your date with Y/N?”

Taehyung chuckles at her nosiness, he’s sure you’ve already told her all about it. There are no secrets left between you two. Even sometimes Taehyung felt like the odd man out around you both.

“It was good.”

Taehyung keeps his answer short, leaving the rest up to her imagination. He isn’t one to kiss and tell or to not kiss and tell either. Things are better that way.

“Just good?” Lainey challenges, knowing there is much more that he’s leaving out. Her eyes narrow as she waits for his response. You haven’t told her anything about last night, not even where you went after he picked you up. Things are radio silent on your end.

Taehyung glances back at her, contemplating whether or not he should spill the beans.It would be nice to have someone else to confide in since it's always you on the receiving end of his secrets; however, this is the one secret that you can't know.

He chews on his bottom lip pensively, if anyone knows what’s on your mind, it would be Lainey. Not that Taehyung is looking to pry, he just has no indication to how you feel about last night, or about him.

Before Taehyung can even open his mouth to speak, a knowing smirk is spread wide across Lainey’s face. It’s that kind of look that makes him nervous – she knows something.

“You like her,” she muses, tossing her hair over her shoulder as the words catch in the air. It’s out there now, and it’s obvious. Well, maybe not obvious, but clear as day to Lainey – and that is more than enough to make Taehyung worry.

“I don’t,” He denies her claim, his willpower too strong to give into her.

“Oh yeah? Why do you self sabotage every one of your relationships then?”

Her words catch Taehyung off guard, his jaw clenching harshly as an annoyed breath is forced out of his nostrils. He wants to deny her claim once again, but he can’t bring himself to keep brushing off these feelings that have had a grip on him ever since he was young.

Lainey is right too. He does sabotage each relationship that comes his way. Taehyung goes out of his way to find something wrong with each girl he dates. He can never admit it to himself, but in the back of his mind, he knows that it's the fact that none of those girls are you.

“It’s written all over your face every time you look at her you know?”

Was he really that obvious? Did it show that much whenever he was around you?

“What do you mean?” Taehyung clarifies, the small once of hope bearing weight in his chest that Lainey is just joking around. That she doesn’t actually know the one thing he’s been holding onto for so long.

She doesn’t have to respond for him to know the answer. The quirk of her eyebrow and knowing expression on her face says enough.

“Well you can’t tell her,” he sighs, hand gripping harshly on the countertop as he stares down at the black and white checkered floors. Lainey turns to look at him staring down in distress, a sympathetic glance directed at him. He’s worried you’ll find out.

You can’t find out. If you do, then all bets will be off. Once you know Taehyung’s feelings for you there is no way that you’ll let your little arrangement continue. He knows you only agreed to this because there is nothing between you romantically, or at least as far as you know.

Lainey bears her weight on the cooler behind her, leaning comfortably on the cool glass. “I want her to be done with this ‘I hate love thing’ just as much as you do,” her fingers mock air quotes as she continues, “Want me to be honest?”

“Please.”

“I think you might be the only one who can change her mind.”

Taehyung’s heart skips a beat as the words leave her mouth. Blood rushes to his ears, pumping like a snare drum as he considers what she just said. He’s confused as to what she means. You agreed to fake-date him, but you still hate love.

A comfortable silence fills the air, Lainey watching him as his lips roll between his teeth as he’s deep in thought. Change your mind. The words repeat in his mind like a broken record. That’s what he’s trying to do, for the right reasons; so that you won’t be so miserable. But behind those selfless reasons come with smaller selfish ones. He gets to be with you as more than a friend now, and although it’s nothing more than some kind of test run, he can’t help but feel like this can be something more too.

“Like you think…” he gulps, clearing his throat as the words stutter out of his mouth, “I could get her to fall for me?”

The lack of response that Lainey gives is ominous, but the raise of her eyebrows and toothy grin forming on her face needs no words to tell. If anyone is to change your mind, it’ll be Taehyung.

That night Taehyung took you to the drive-in movies. To be quite honest, you couldn’t really recall what was playing, some Pixar film with bugs as the main character if you can recall it correctly. You were far too distracted laughing with Taehyung, watching as young kids played around on a grassy patch near his car. The giggles that left his lips each time the little girl waved to him were music to your ears. You never noticed how much he loved kids, how good he was with them.

The image of his hands clasped together as he fawned over the little girl, picking dandelions in the grass and racing to place them by your feet was burned into your memory. The boxy grin that graced his face all night long. The way his eyes squinted from his cheeks, pushing up as he smiled so big. The whispers of the word ‘cute’ each time her pigtails bounced while she toddled away.

Missing the movie doesn't disappoint you. If anything, the memories you've saved from tonight are more than enough.

The next night you were unable to go out, the shop was so busy that you were not able to leave until an hour and a half after your shift was supposed to end. Some punk kid dropped 2 cones on the floor on his way out and decided it would be best to leave them there without cleaning anything up. Maybe if it hadn’t been so busy then you would have noticed the spill before it dried up and stuck to the tile floors.

Naturally, you spent a good 15 minutes trying to mop up all the stickiness on the floor. But to your luck, Taehyung is working with you that night. Once all the customers left the shop he hooked his phone up to the speakers, grabbed your hands, and danced you around the shop. Well, it was supposed to be dancing but it probably looked more like Taehyung swinging your arms as you attempted to not trip over your own feet.

It makes up for not getting to go out though, and you’d take a night like that over a fancy dinner any chance you got. 

It’s been 12 days since you became Taehyung‘s girlfriend, and as the remaining days decreased, so did your hatred for love. Each night he planned something special. The real kicker was the texts that you get once he makes it home from dropping you off every night. A simple ‘I had a great time tonight’ was enough to make your heart swell and heat rise to your cheeks.

And as you notice your hatred for love and relationships leaving you, you notice another feeling enter your system. Or several feelings…

Things are getting just as sticky as the night two when ice cream cones landed on the shop floor face down, sprinkles and all. Spending time with Taehyung like this is bringing some things to the surface you didn’t know were buried in the first place.

Every night that you spent with Taehyung over the past 12 days allowed you to see him in a new light. You got to see him on a different level than just friends. You got to see what every girl that fawns over Taehyung experiences.

Something about your friendship never let you jump past that barrier. You only see him as a dear friend of yours. Nothing more and nothing less. And now the issue is that...you aren’t sure how you’ll ever go back to see him as such.

You like Taehyung as more than a friend, that's for sure. And you know because of that things will never be able to go back to the way they once were.

Maybe you're reading too much into it, but your gut is telling you that you aren't the only one feeling this way.

The feeling of butterflies that pound in your stomach each time you meet eyes with him has to be reciprocated. There is just no way you can be feeling this way and he isn’t.

This isn’t like the feelings you’ve caught for any guy before, this is something else. Every night when you go home you lay in bed, staring at your ceiling with a dumb grin on your face as you think about your time together, about him. About the way his black curly hair falls in front of his eyes each time he looks down and how his smile lights up every room he was in.

These things that you were so blind to before can’t escape your thoughts, and it makes you wonder how many times or things you’ve looked over that make you melt, just like you are right now.

But in just 2 days, this trial-boyfriend period will be over, and you’ll have to go back to being just friends. Each day, each hour, each minute that approaches feels heavier and heavier. Anxiety floods your system each time you think about things being over, or that this arrangement you have isn’t even real.

When you think about the growing feelings you have for him, you honestly can't imagine what your life will be like any other way. What it would be like going back to just hanging out here and there. And what it would be like

You can’t even fathom thinking about what it would be like hearing him talk about another girl again. It makes you sick thinking that there's going to be someone after you, because in just 5 days this will be all over, and you’ll go back to being the girl best friend, nothing more.

Maybe it’s just wishful thinking that Taehyung has more feelings for you too. But the glimmer in his eyes as his bangs brush out of his eyes and they land on you tells a different story. When he looks at you it feels like you are the only two people on earth. He sees nothing else but you, and the way your eyes sparkle back at him.

Each day you spend with Taehyung after that feels like a wrench tightening the screws of your heart. 14 days is just not enough.

“Earth to Y/N” Lainey says waving a hand in your face. You must have zoned out, for god knows how long.

“Thinking about Tae?”

“What,” she catches you off guard, straightening your posture and brushing yourself off before responding to her, “no…just thinking.”

“Right,” the sarcasm drips from her lips, turning away from you as she wipes off a table in the front.

For personal reasons, you’ve kept Lainey out of the loop during this whole fake-boyfriend Taehyung thing. It’s better if you keep your feelings to yourself until you figure them out. And although it feels really really strange not giving Lainey the intel on what’s going on in your life, you know it’s for your own good.

Once you put what is in your head out into the world, you can’t take it back. What if you are just in the honeymoon-phase? If these feelings for Taehyung are only because he’s trying his best to woo you, and then they’ll just fade away as things return back to normal.

Something in you tells you that this isn't the case, but the small shadow of doubt in the back of your mind keeps you from talking to your best friend about it anyway.

The thing is, you don't have to tell Lainey for her to know. Every time Tae picks you up from work to take you out you shine. Your smile spreads so wide she’s afraid your cheeks will tear. The nervous shake of your fingers as you grab for your belongings as you head out the door doesn’t go unnoticed in Lainey’s eyes. She knows you too well to look over things like this, she just wanted to wait for you to say something first.

But now that you aren’t, Lainey has decided to take matters into her own hands, asking you about it herself.

“Lainey,” you start, waiting for her attention before you pull out a stool, sitting down and motioning for her to follow suit. She does, a questioning but knowing look evident on her face as she joins you. “You know how this thing between Taehyung and I is just an experiment or whatever?”

She nods in response, her hand quickly falling into her palm as she listens intently to your words.

“I think I messed up.” Your head is buried in your arms, laid over the tabletop in embarrassment.

“What do you mean?”

Her question is more for clarification, she wants to hear you say it herself. She knows that you’re gonna tell her you caught feelings. She sees it coming from a mile away, you confirming it is just the icing on the ice cream cake.

“Don’t make me say it,” you whine, neglecting to pick your head up and look at her. You can feel the grin on her face. You know she's smirking at you right now, doing her best to hold back a laugh. Finally, you got over your ‘I hate love and relationships suck’ thing.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” she sings, quite obviously teasing you while another deep sigh echoes from your chest. You manage to pick your head up, leaning onto your elbows with your chin caught between your palms as you face her.

“I like him.”

It comes out as a whisper, but Lainey hears it loud and clear. If you didn’t know better, you’d assume that the smile on her face can't grow any larger, but it does. She jumps up from her chair in victory, doing a funny dance with her arms whooping in the air to celebrate. You’re confused as to why, but you’re too far in your own thoughts to pay it any mind; your head just sinks back into your arms as your forehead presses against the cold metal table beneath you.

“I knew it,” Lainey smiles, her happy dance subsiding as she sits back down across from you. “I knew this fake dating thing was gonna work.

“Yeah well it really worked, because now I have feelings for a guy that’s never gonna reciprocate them for me.”

Your tone is laced with sarcasm, a disappointing ring outlining each of your words. You’re too embarrassed to look at the girl sitting before you, worried that if you do all the emotions you’ve been holding onto for so long will spill over and stain your stone-cold image; one you’ve maintained for far too long.

But Lainey’s your best friend. The only one that you should be comfortable being vulnerable about your feelings for Taehyung with; for some reason all you can’t bring yourself to be.

Before you can get a grip on your emotions tears are streaming down your face, falling onto the cold metal surface under you in small puddles. 

A sympathetic sigh leaves Lainey’s lips as she tries to gain your attention, “Hey.”

Inhaling deeply, you face her – mascara strewn across your face in black streaks and eyes nearly bloodshot. You’ve held this in for far too long. Only a double would tire you out and exhaust you enough to cry on the clock. Thank God it’s a rainy day, no customers ever come in on rainy days.

Or at least, no customers usually come in on rainy days. It's not until you hear the bells on the front door ring that you’re wiping your eyes, whipping around to greet whoever was entering.

And then you see him, standing there as he shakes out his umbrella, a bouquet of sunflowers in his hand.

And he sees you; mascara running down your face and tears staining your cheeks. He’s early. Your stomach turns at the sight of him, emotions not stable enough to handle carry a normal conversation like  

“Y/N,” his voice is quiet, worry dripping in his tone as your name leaves his lips. But you can’t face him right now, not like this.

Your feet move faster than you mind, standing up and rushing to the back to avoid him. Taehyung doesn’t follow you, just stands there and watches you walk away, solemn and worried that he’s done something. 

It’s not until Lainey is rising from her seat and pacing over to him that he’s brought back to reality.

“Taehyung,” she starts, hands coming up slowly to console him, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be here right now.”

“Wh-What’s wrong?” His lip worries between his teeth, eyes glossy as he stares at the door you just closed behind you. He’s looking at it intently, mind flooding with worry, wishing so badly that the door will just fly open, and you’ll tell him what was going on. In the back of his mind, he knows that you won’t, at least not for now. Talking about emotions has never been your strong suit, and chances of that changing at this moment are at an all-time low.

Lainey is unsure how to answer him, caught in between not wanting to lie and keeping your feelings private. She doesn’t want to speak for you; but she’s scared of saying something that can make this situation worse.

Her mouth gapes as she searches for a response to his question, lips opening and closing and she hums to find the right words. They don’t come.

The umbrella hanging from Taehyung’s hand drops with a crash, starling Lainey as she jumps at the sudden sound. But before she is even able to speak, the bell to the front door is ringing again, and Taehyung is walking away into the pouring rain.

The next day you wake up feeling numb. You’ve received several texts from Taehyung the night before, none of which you have the energy to reply to or even look at for that matter.

The guilt riddling your body has become too much for you to handle. You left work last night without even saying goodbye to Lainey. She’s a good enough friend and coworker to know that what you’re going through is more important than working the counter at an ice cream shop. 

After Taehyung left she came back and let you know; she almost had to break down the door to the backroom in order for you to let her in. She told you to go home, get some rest and that you’d talk tomorrow.

But after waking up the last thing you want to do is talk about Taehyung; to think about him.

Every time you thought about how your arrangement was supposed to end in just a few days you felt sick. You have worked so hard to open up just to build your walls back up again. And now you’re back at square one.

When you agreed to be Taehyung’s girlfriend you did not expect to fall for him like this. He’s Taehyung. He’s your personal diary, the one who knows all the shit that nobody else knows and listens to all the shit that no one else cares about.

Feelings ruin everything. Love sucks, and you knew this before you agreed. You agreed under the circumstances that Taehyung could show you that relationships could be fun; not under the circumstances that he would make you fall in love with him,

And the more that you think about it, maybe you were always in love with him. Maybe you always had these feelings for him, but they were trapped in the tight bonds of friendship that your subconscious never let you out.

But none of that even mattered now. The deal had to be off, and you need to distance yourself from Taehyung before you are hurt any worse. The longer this goes on the worse that you are going to feel when it's all over.

How are you supposed to go back to normal after this? Like is Taehyung thinking that showing you how amazing relationships are, you won't fall for him or something? Or does his true plan consist of making you fall in love with him, just to string you along like every other girl he's dated?

You’re trapped in the never-ending spiraling thoughts, soiling your image of Taehyung with each new theory that crosses your mind. None of them are good. All of them paint him as a player, as someone who just used you.

But the little thump in your heart when you notice the sunflowers placed on your bedside table wants your mind to change. Your heart wants you to believe that Taehyung feels something too, that throughout this arrangement he has seen a different side to you too – that he’s fallen for you just like you have for him.

It's a knock at your door that guides you out of your thoughts. The repetitive tapping at your front door that drags you out of bed. And when you check your peephole and it's no one else, but your small blonde best friend standing on your doorstep that has relief rushing through your system.

The door cracks open, Lainey standing there with an umbrella in her hand – even though it was nearly 100º with clear skies.

“Why are you still in your pajamas? It's noon.”

She pushes past you and to your living room, plopping down on your couch and making herself comfortable as she waits for you to join. You spin on your heels, an exhausted breath leaving your mouth as you pace over to her, plopping down beside her.

“Why the umbrella?” Your brow furrows as she hands it over. You take it though, still confused behind the meaning of the object that you're holding and where it came from.

“It’s Taehyung’s.”

You nearly drop it as his name leaves her lips. The name causes your stomach to tighten, mouth-drying instantly as emotions well behind your eyes.

“Why?” Is all you can mutter out. Why was she giving it to you, why was she here, and why did she have it?

“You need to bring it back to him.” She says sternly, her eyes locked on you as she waits for you to look back at her. But you’re too focused on the umbrella placed gently in your hands, tracing your finger over every wire and the soft rubber handle.

“I can’t.” Your words come out in a whisper, breath light and airy as you sigh, sinking your body back into the couch cushions. Giving the umbrella back to Taehyung will mean that you have to go see him. And if you see him, he’s going to want to talk to you about last night, then question you about why you haven’t been returning his texts. No. You will not be giving Taehyung his umbrella back.

“Y/N,” your name leaves her mouth gently, a sigh following it before she reached for you, rubbing your arm comfortingly before continuing, “I think you need to talk to him.”

“Lainey,” you let out an annoyed sigh, “you know I can’t do that.”

You’re serious in your words. Not that you don’t want to talk to him. If you could, you would, but you can’t. There are too many emotions involved. The wound is fresh and seeing him would be rubbing salt right into it.

“Y/N,” she sighs, this time more forceful, she’s trying to get something across to you but it's going right over your head. “Talk to him. Please.”

“You know I’m going to end up hurt if I do.”

Tears well in your eyes as the words croak from your throat. It's dry and scratchy, full of fear and anxiety.

“I think you’d be surprised,” she mumbles, her eyes instantly widening on realizing the words that just escaped.

Eyes wide with confusion, they’re begging her to go on, but if she does then Taehyung won’t be the only one in deep shit right now. You can’t know what she knows.

“What do you mean I’ll be surprised?”

“I have to go,” she stands instantly, motioning to the umbrella, “and you need to bring this back.”

With a slight ruffle to your hair, Lainey is giving you a supporting smile and waving goodbye. And you’re left alone once again – just you and Taehyung’s blue umbrella.

It takes a lot of courage to get ready today. You make sure to take your sweet time rummaging through your closet, flipping through articles of clothing for the better half of an hour. At the end, you opt to go with a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt. There isn't enough energy in your body to put on anything else, and you know you’ll just want to curl back up in bed once you get home. Sweatpants are safe, and safe is just what you need.

No makeup today either. If things are anything like you’re expecting, your makeup will just end up ruined anyway. It's your better judgment to shower though, you’ve neglected to take one after work last night; opting to just bury yourself under your covers as soon as you got back. But today is a new day. And with a fresh shower and your comfiest pair of sweatpants, you are about as ready as you’ll ever be to get your heart broken into a billion pieces. 

Umbrella in hand, you step out onto your front steps, relishing in your last few moments of ignorant bliss before making your way to Taehyung’s. You immediately regret your wardrobe decision as the sun beats down on your frame, the humidity making you feel sticky and gross – your favorite pants are  no match for this heat.

But you’re on your way to your destination anyway, the drive feeling longer and more drawn out than normal. Taehyung didn’t live that far away from you, but the ride there still felt like an eternity with each theoretical scenario passing your mind. 

Dragging your feet, you make your way to the front steps of his house. You’ve been here a million times, but today is different. From now on, every time you drive past this place all you’ll know is heartache.

You brush yourself off, taking a deep breath before bringing your hand up and pushing the doorbell. The sudden ringing sound startles you, even though you have every indication that it’s coming – you’re just too nervous and jumpy for your own good.

Footsteps approach the door, your stomach tightening more and more with the muffled pitter-patter of footsteps. You’re praying to God that it’s his mom, hoping that Taehyung just so happens to be out – even though his car is in plain sight parked just a few meters away from you. Wishful thinking, you suppose.

When the door to his house opens, you struggle to maintain your composure. He’s dressed similarly to you; a pair of sweats and an old sports t-shirt that has definitely seen better days.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

His eyes are sunken in, dark circles dragging underneath his eyes and his lips pulled downwards. He looks like a sad puppy, his dark hair all scruffy and sticking up in each direction – probably from him running his hands through it so many times. 

“I came to give you this,” you extend the umbrella out before you. He nods before taking hold of it, his hand far at the opposite end making sure not to keep his distance. The more you look at him, the more sorry you feel for dodging his texts. He looks like he hasn’t slept a wink, and you’re afraid it’s all because of you.

“Oh...uh, thanks,” he struggles to make eye contact with you, looking down at the object in his hand. 

It’s awkward, uncomfortable, and you can’t seem to find the words to say to break this strange tension between the two of you. He’s acting weird, shifting his weight back and forth but not moving away to close the door. His mind is racing once again – contemplating whether or not to just invite you in or leave it at that.

But with every aching bone in his body, he musters up the courage to lift his head, looking you directly in the eyes. Their dark like his, definitely from the lack of sleep you had the night before. Your mouth is turned downward too; hands fiddling together to try and distract yourself.

“D-Do you wanna come in?” He stutters, stepping aside slowly as he gestures towards his house. He suddenly worries when you don’t respond right away, taking a second to contemplate if this is a good idea or not. Ripping off the band-aid is never easy, but it needs to be done.

“Sure,” is the word that you decide on – hoping that it doesn’t make you seem disinterested or too desperate to talk. Maybe he’s just being kind though. Maybe it’s an empty offer, something that you say when you’re trying to be nice, but subconsciously hope that they won’t take you up on it. Like when you offer to share your food with someone, but you’re really hungry. You do it to be nice, not because you actually want to split the delicious looking burger and fries on your plate.

He leads you inside and to his bedroom. It looks the same as always, but it feels different. It still smells like him though, the comforting woodsy scent of pine and mahogany that he always reaches for. But that comforting scent is anything but comfortable. You’re frozen in place, unsure if you should sit on his bed and make yourself at home, much like every other time in the past. For now you just stand in the doorframe, waiting for him to tell you to take a seat, just like any polite guest would. A guest. You have never felt like a guest in his home before, or around Taehyung in general. But that imaginary wall between the two of you is standing tall and sturdy, and suddenly the two of you are reverted back to being strangers.

You watch as he toys with something on his desk, his fingers dancing from object to object and sifting through papers to look busy. The point of it – unknown to you but to him, he’s buying time. Trying to think of the first thing to say, what to ask, or if you even wanted to talk. Maybe you only agreed to come inside to be nice. Maybe you were too worried about hurting his feelings if you said no. But alas, here you are, standing awkwardly in his doorway as he shuffles around his room, his brain flooding with thoughts – but his mouth can not form them into audible words.

“I’m sorry for ignoring your texts.”

Your voice catches his attention, dropping whatever paper he’s looking at now and turning his gaze to you. You’re sunken into yourself, your chest thumping with anxiety as his eyes begin to wander your frame. Not in a ‘I’m checking you out’ manner though; more of a ‘you look so sad and I don’t know what to say to you right now’ kind of way. 

It’s true though, he doesn’t know what to say – which is why he’s staring at you, hoping the right words would just pop up and he didn’t have to use any brain-power at all. He doesn’t want to say ‘it's okay,’ because it's not. You never ignore his texts, and that alone tells him enough about what's going on. You are upset at him.

“What did I do wrong, Y/N?”

His words sound accusatory but his tone is soft, gentle and full of worry. Eyes swollen and looking like they are about to fill to the brim with tears, his sight is focused on you; now not able to look away.

“I-I don’t know…”

Your answer is honest. You don’t know if his intentions are dirty. Yeah, that’s what you thought initially, but looking at him with such hurt written all over his face tells a different story. 

Taehyung is silent, unsure of what more he can do or say to make you talk to him. He can’t force you to open up, he never has and he never will – that’s always been his rule. Everything you’ve shared with him has been on your own terms and conditions. Taehyung has always been here to be your listening ear, but he never pries.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

His voice is soft, eyes full of sympathy as he holds himself together. Those were the words he has been looking for. Now the ball is in your court and you’ll have to be the one leading the conversation. It’s just what he needed to figure this shit out.

“I-I don’t know.”

“Y/N,” he sighs as he drops himself down onto the mattress, “I shouldn’t have to say this for you to know it, but you know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

You do know that. You really, really do. But this time things are different. Is he expecting you to just come out and speak your truth like there won’t be consequences? No, he won’t push you to tell him anything you don’t want to. But the worry in his eyes and clammy hands are begging for you to just let it out so he can stop being in the dark.

You sigh out an ‘okay’ before sitting down beside him. 

Rip the band-aid off Y/N. Quick and painless.

His eyes narrow, almost to a squint, staring right through you in hopes of reading your thoughts. Your expression is nothing but blank as you try your best to gain some sort of composure. Do you just speak up and spill your guts? The words replay in your mind over and over until your thoughts are beat down and misshapen. 

You can picture his face when you say it; disgusted with a trace of disappointment and some confusion spread into the mix. Or maybe he’ll laugh at how pathetic you were, catching feelings for your fake boyfriend.

That’s it. There’s no way you can tell him. It would be much easier to just get up and leave. Tell him to pretend like none of this ever happened and that you needed some time to cool off. A few months maybe, or maybe you could just ghost him entirely. 

“Y/N?”

The sound of his voice breaks you out of your toxic thoughts, and his chocolate brown eyes bring you back down to earth. You can’t just leave him in the dust. He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that exists. Things will be okay, right?

“Sorry, sorry,” you exhale deeply as you calm your thoughts; shifting the nasty scenarios out and accepting that whatever happens after this conversation is your fate. 

“Taehyung, I-I guess I wasn’t expecting this boyfriend-girlfriend thing we’re doing to go like this.”

His brow quirks at your words, confusion riddling his expression as his eyes narrow. With a tilt of his head, he’s pushing you to continue, visibly riddled with your choice of words.

“Swear you’ll be honest when I ask you this?” You question him, your hand moving closer to his as you lean in slightly. He’s like a magnet, you can’t help yourself from moving closer; even though the proximity of the two of you is clouding your thoughts and you can feel your heart beginning to swell.

He nods in response to your question, his eyes full of concern as he waits for you to continue, “Why did you ask me to do this thing?”

He knows that a question like this was coming, only if he could have prepared for it. But he didn’t, so his throat is left dry and scratchy as his mouth opens, only to stutter a bit before closing it back up. No coherent thoughts or words are able to escape his lips, just nonsense mumbling that caught himself off guard.

With a deep breath, he closes his eyes, regaining his composure before he can face you again. He agreed to be honest, and if honesty is what you want, honesty is that you’ll get.

“I’m sorry.” That’s all that he can say. 

Oh no. This is exactly what you were expecting before you came here. He’s gonna tell you that he didn’t mean to mess with your emotions, that he felt you catching feelings and got carried away. That he’s sorry that he ruined your friendship and played you like a violin all at once.

“Me too.”

You don’t know why you’re apologizing, but you are. It feels wrong. Absolutely utterly, and undoubtedly wrong. Apologizing for your own feelings is not something that you are okay with. Especially when he made you fall for him like this. Okay so maybe thinking that is giving him too much power, but who the hell takes you out on dates for nearly 2 weeks straight just to laugh about it later. How can he expect you to not catch feelings for him? With his deep voice and fluffy hair that always hangs in front of his eyes, that little giggle he has when he finds something amusing. Everything about him was attractive. And you’ve fallen for it all. Hard.

“Wait, why are you sorry?”

A scoff escapes your mouth unintentionally, but it’s well deserved. “For being the idiot to fall for a guy that was playing her, I guess.”

You can’t look at him any longer, so your eyes fall to your lap, staring at your chipped nail polish and dirty fingernails instead of reading whatever dumb expression he has now. But if you just took a second to look up, you’d notice the widening of his eyes, how his fingers are beginning to shake and his mouth gape. 

“Wh-What?”

“Don’t make me say it again Taehyung, I don’t feel like sounding stupid one more time.”

“No no I heard you, it's just,” his eyes slam shut, angry at himself that he let things get this far without keeping you in the loop. 

You’ve been telling him that you hate love for years now. After hearing it so many times, he’d just given up on the thought of you. Maybe if he said something before you went through all those shitty guys things could have been different. But he’s let this go on for far too long, and now you’re the one that was paying the price. 

“Y/N, I have feelings for you.”

Your neck nearly breaks with how fast your head snaps up. He’s the one looking away now, his cheeks a bit rosy as he tries to hide himself. He isn’t doing a very good job though, his hair is only shadowing his eyes and you can clearly see the way he’s nervously chewing on his lip; a cute habit you have grown fond of these past couple of weeks.

If he didn’t look like he does right now, you’d assume he was messing around. But you know Taehyung. You know his small little gestures and what they mean by now. You know when he’s being serious and when he’s telling a lie. He can look someone dead in the eye and lie to them, but when he tells the truth, he becomes shy and worried that he’s said the wrong thing. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You ask softly, gently reaching for his hand. The subtle contact makes him flinch, reacting by pulling your hand away. But his eyes meet your sympathetic ones, sparkling just like they always do, and he knows what he wants.

Taehyung’s hand reaches back for yours, lacing his fingers through yours before giving your hand a light squeeze. “You hate relationships,” he chuckles lightly, the mood of the room instantly shifting as the laughter leaves his lips. 

“I hated the ones that weren’t with you,” you correct him, but your voice comes across as just a whisper. He’s close enough to hear though, a blushing grin forming on his face as you shyly look away. His heart flutters when he hears it, a million butterflies erupting in his tummy all at once.

“I hated the ones that weren’t with you too,” he coos, his eyes wide and sparkling as he looks at you with such adoration. 

Time moves in slow motion as his hand meets your cheek, your eyes look deeply into his chocolate ones as he moves in closer. As your eyelids flutter shut his tongue runs across his bottom lip, wetting the surface before closing the distance between you. Finally.

And in that moment you’re at peace. Everything you thought you’ve ever hated, love, relationships, and maybe Taehyung for a hot second, are the only things that you long for. The 14 days don’t have to be over, and your days no longer have to be counted. When you’re with Taehyung you’re happy, you’re comfortable, and you're confident that he can give you what you have always deserved – but have never gotten. 

His lips move against yours in slow, languid motions, his large hands holding you close like he’s holding on for dear life. But you won’t leave even if you want to, not now, not after all this. 

Slowly, Taehyung shifts his weight and you move in succession. He’s laying you down on his bed, gently climbing over you without breaking the kiss. Things are becoming more heated now, you can feel it as his hungry lips devour your own. Your chest heaves up to meet his, your back arching off the mattress as his hands begin to scour your body. The heat pooling in between your legs is growing, an aching sensation overwhelming your core as your own hands reach up to rake through his long, fluffy hair. And you can tell he wants you too, the thin fabric of his sweatpants doing little to conceal the growing erection pressing against your thigh. 

You can’t help but let out a steep moan as his hips begin to grind into yours. Needy groans fall past his lips and onto yours as you roll your hips upwards to meet his small ruts. 

In a leisurely motion, Taehyung’s body is moving upwards, his knee finding a place between your legs as he brings himself up to a kneeling position. You chase his lips the entire way there, sitting up straight to be sure the contact doesn’t vanish, too consumed by your need for him to leave his lips.

And then his needy hands are running along the waistband of your sweats, fiddling with the tie before breaking your heated kiss. “Is this okay?” His words come out in a whisper, his eyes searching yours for any signs of doubt, but all he sees is lust.

“Yes,” you confirm, out of breath from making-out for so long without coming up for air. The lightheaded feeling taking over you goes unnoticed though, and quite frankly you’re too caught up in Taehyung to care.

Quickly, he rids you of your pants, looking back up at you for confirmation about your underwear. With an affirmative nod he’s removing those too, leaving you completely bare from the waist down as he stands over you fully clothed.

But soon he’s ridding himself of his own clothing, his shirt being pulled at the nape of his neck as he discards it across the room. He’s leaning back down to you, hungry for the feeling of your lips. He misses it, even though it's been less than a minute since he’s last felt your smooth lips on his. 

You won’t open your eyes to see, but with the shuffling movements and shaky connection between your mouths you can tell Taehyung is stripping himself of any remaining clothing he has on. He’s needy, unable to wait any longer to get down to business, he’s already waited long enough.

You’re the one who breaks the kiss this time, too curious to see what he’s sporting down below for your own good. But you are not disappointed once you see it – he’s long and girthy; the pigment a shade or two darker from his skin tone than the rest of his body.  Your thoughts are wandering, wondering what it's like to have him inside of you; dreaming about what he feels like. Arousal pools at your core, mouth salivating as your daydreams linger.

“Like what you see?” Taehyung chuckles. You barely notice that you’ve been staring, eyes wide and focused on the hardened dick before you, which is probably a bit uncomfortable for him. 

“Sorry!” You cringe at yourself lightly, covering your eyes in embarrassment in fear that you just ruined the mood you’ve worked too hard to create.

“Don’t apologize,” he smiles as he grabs your wrists, moving them away from your round eyes. Scrunching your nose in displeasure, you catch your lip in between your teeth, mentally face palming at how weird you’re being.

He couldn’t blame you though, it was taking everything in him not to gawk at you. It was the first time you’ve seen each other naked. Bathing suits did little for your imagination, not that you had even thought about Taehyung this way before.

But he eases your nerves by coming down face level with you, reaching for your shirt and pulling it up over your head. You look at him with wide eyes, taking in each part of him as he caresses your body gently. He’s in awe of you like this. So relieved that you’re finally his, that he has you like this.

Nimble fingers dance down your body, landing at your core as he runs one up your slit, collecting your arousal on his fingertip. An impressed smirk grows slowly on his face, “I can’t believe you’re this wet already,” he hums. “All for me.” 

His eyes remain focused on your center, devouring it with his eyes as his hands hold steady on your thighs. You can’t help but grow slightly embarrassed, dripping with arousal so early on though he’s barely touched you. A lump forms in your throat causing you to swallow thickly – this doesn’t go unnoticed by Taehyung.

A concerned expression crosses his face, brow furrowing as he moves his hands upward to settle on your waist. “Hey,” his voice is soft, gentle and full of worry, “everything okay?” 

“Just nervous,” you answer, a fake smile showing on your face to try and combat your own emotions.

It is no secret that Taehyung is a bit more experienced than you are in bed. He knows that, you know that, and that is enough to turn you into a nervous wreck. Leave it to your own thoughts to ruin the moment.

“We don’t have to…”

“No!” Your voice comes out a little too eager, a bit loud, shocking Taehyung. His eyes widen in response, body jolting from the impact of your tone. “No,” you say more gently this time, “I want to.”

You did want to – you just have to get over your own nerves first. Luckily, Taehyung didn’t mind and was willing to guide you through it.

With a reassuring smile plastered across his face, he laces his fingers through yours. As you lock eyes, you nod him onward, giving him the go-ahead to continue. He moves languidly, his fingers moving back down to trace your slit once more. The sensation makes you tense, the nerves tingling through your body making it difficult for you to calm down. 

But with a reassuring squeeze of his hand to yours, you’re taking a deep breath. Closing your eyes as you lie your head backwards onto his pillowcase. The smell of him consumes you, relaxing you effectively as his fingers meet the entrance of your core.

Shivers run through your body as he dips one finger inside. Your arousal acts as a natural lube, letting his finger glide gracefully into you. You gasp at the sensation, eyes rolling back into your head as he begins caressing your walls. His finger moves swiftly in and out of your core, his other hand still locked with yours to guide you through.

With your body finally relaxing, Taehyung is able to add another finger into the mix. The extra pressure makes you shudder for a moment, taking a little to adjust to the greater size inside of you. Thankfully the mild discomfort subsides, and he’s able to pump his fingers in and out once more. 

He’s making sure to watch each of your expressions, growing harder and harder just from watching your face contort in bliss. With each of his movements you bite down harder onto your lip, focusing on him and him only. 

“You’re doing so well,” he praises as his thumb rubs circles over your hand soothing you. You can feel your heart swell at his words, heat beginning to rise to your cheeks. 

In one swift motion, Taehyung begins to separate his fingers, stretching your walls as his digits move in scissor-like motions inside you. “Fuck,” you mumble, hips jutting forward in reaction. 

A steep moan leaving your lips as he brings his fingers back together, just to extend them once more. Your body is quickly getting used to the pressure, begging for more as you roll your hips.

He can sense that you’re eager from your movements alone. With one final squeeze, his hand is leaving yours. The empty feeling in your palm is unpleasant. But once you open your eyes and notice he’s using it to palm himself, his fingers groping around his length and beginning to pump slowly, that empty feeling is replaced with something else. 

Your mouth salivates with desire, hungry for the feeling of him inside of you. He’s aroused you enough, and you’re too eager to feel him for your own good.

“Taehyung,” you moan, “fuck me please.”

His cock jumps in reaction to your words, his chest heaving as his breath catches in his throat. Never in his life did he expect to hear those words come out of your mouth – but he wouldn't mind hearing it again.

“Hmm?” He hums, knowing damn well what you said but being greedy enough to pretend that he didn’t. You whine in response, your legs shaking on the bed in a mini temper-tantrum.

“Please,” you drag out, “please fuck me.”

Your words are music to his ears. He removes his fingers from your dripping cunt, grabbing the backs of your knees to pull you closer to him and hike your legs up over his hips.

“Anything for you.”

Complying to your wish, he lines the tip of his cock up with your entrance. The feeling of his smooth head against your core is enough to make you moan, your head thrown back to expose the soft skin of your neck.

Taehyung takes this as an opportunity to leave his own mark behind, leaning down to attach his lips to your skin. You gasp as his teeth graze your skin, his plump lips sucking harshly before his tongue is swiping over the area to soothe it. 

But your eyes open once he’s beginning to pull away to look at you. His eyes are dark, full of lust mixed with adoration, a sigh of relief leaving his chest as he gazes down at you under him. There’s a lot going on in his head right now. Of all the emotions swirling around, the thing he’s most focused on is how lucky he is to have you.

And before you know it, he’s leaning down. Pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, making you smile. One more kiss is left on your forehead before he's pulling back, securing the position of your legs on his hips. 

And then he’s realigning himself with your core, pushing past your entrance and slowly descending into the depths of your pussy. He’s moving slowly, taking his time as he thrusts into you. The delicious stretch is unfamiliar, but it's not uncomfortable – like you were made just for him. A simultaneous groan leaves your lips as he bottoms out, the tip of his cock pressing deep into you on a spot that’s gone untouched. 

He hums a sigh of contempt before pulling back, only to rock his hips into you once again. Your velvety walls welcome him delightedly, soft whimpers leaving your lips once he bottoms out again.

“Y/N,” your name leaves his lips in a low grunt, the bones of his pelvis driving into your skin as he begins to pick up his pace. In reaction you clench down on him, orgasm beginning to loom overhead with each movement of his hips.

Desire fills your senses as you roll your hips over to meet his thrusts. His movements are slow and intentional, making sure to bottom out each time to watch you squirm over his dick. He loves how your jaw drops each time his tip presses against your g-spot, knowing just when he hits it each time.

Taehyung’s teeth are barred, sweat gathering at his brow as his dark fluffy hair sticks to his face. He’s trying to hold himself back, the overwhelming urge to finish just in reach, but he doesn’t want to stop. So his hands roam your body to try and distract him, his palms caressing up the sides of your torso as your back bridges into him. The feeling of hot breath fans over your face with each sigh he lets out. 

But the tightening knot in your stomach is threatening to snap with every movement of his hips. It's getting harder and harder to hold on with the power of his thrusts growing stronger.

“Taehyung,” you whine, “so close” your hands find his back, fingernails dragging down his spine in attempts to ground yourself. Taehyung’s face contorts as your nails pierce his skin, leaving lines of red scratches down the length of his posterior.

The stretch from his length and his rhythmic motions sends your senses into overdrive. Squeezing your eyes shut and grasping onto the sheets underneath you, you can taste the brink of your orgasm. Taehyung is focused; his grip on your thighs strong and his face contorted with bliss. But all you can think about is how stupid you could have been if you had decided to just cut him out. What matters is that you’re here with him now, and the thought of that is enough to push you over the edge. 

Your breath hitches in your throat, stomach twisting and turning as your pussy throbs repeatedly around his member. Emotions running high, three words almost slip past your lips, but with the small amount of strength you can muster up, you hold them back. Another time, some time that isn't so lust filled like this one.

Taehyung’s thrusts are growing sloppy. His grip on your legs tightening as his lip is caught between his teeth. And with just a few quick thrusts, he’s coming undone inside of you. White, hot spurts of cum paint your walls, filling you up and making you feel so unbelievably full. 

You’ve always felt close to Taehyung – he knew everything about you and vice versa; but this time was different. The way his hands settled on your legs, bringing them down gently after finishing. How his eyes are becoming so soft as he looks at you, a lazy grin pulling at his lips. You’ve never felt closer to Taehyung as you do in the moment. As his body collapses next to yours, pulling you in and holding you close as you recover from your highs, you’re completely at peace.

“Sorry I got carried away, I guess I should have asked if you’re on birth control still,” he laughs, burying his face into the crook of your neck. 

“I am,” you chuckle alongside him.

Your naked bodies tangle together, his leg weaving its way through yours to be as close to you as possible. He’s intoxicated by you, closing his eyes as he rests against your body in complete bliss. Now that he has you this close he never wants to let go; and neither do you.

“Can I tell you something?” His voice is soft, whisper like but still confident. His tone doesn’t falter.

“Anything.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

Butterflies erupt in your tummy, your heart thudding in your chest as heat rises to your cheeks. He loves you. It's not that friendship kind of love anymore; it's the relationship kind. The same kind that makes your heart skip a beat and body riddle with every emotion in the book. The kind that keeps you up all night thinking about – but also helps you fall asleep, knowing he’ll be there in the morning.

And all of a sudden it seems so stupid that you were fighting those words back in the heat of the moment just a few minutes ago. He felt it too, you always knew that.

“I love you, Taehyung.”

Crush culture once made you want to spill your guts. Every guy sucked, relationships were stupid and love was a social construct that you didn’t feel like conforming to. There was absolutely no one that you would waste your time on, until Taehyung came around. What you had been looking for your entire life has always been right in front of your eyes – you were just too dumb to see it.

Maybe love is alright, after all.

‘Crush Culture’ is copyright 2020 @parksfilter, all rights reserved. Please do not repost on any platform or translate without permission.

[starryseung]

𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒚 𝒌𝒊𝒅𝒔 𝒂𝒔 90'𝒔 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 [ 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒏𝒂𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆 ]

𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒋𝒊𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒈

I would travel thousands of miles just to be with you.

𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈

you and han might’ve met at school, through mutual friends

then of course the classic ‘mutual pining without you two realizing you’re falling for each other’ game until one of your friends point it out

and then on days he doesn’t have a busy schedule, he’ll walk you home from school

slowly it’ll be a habit, and you’ll grow closer and closer

sometimes unconsciously he’ll intertwine your fingers with his

sometimes when it’s raining / freezing cold he’ll give you his jacket

“no ji, you’ll freeze to death,”

“at least i’ll freeze to death for you,”

*winks*

𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒔

dates with jisung aren’t fixed at one spot

he loves showing you different places he discovered throughout the weekend

usually its the townside, because he loves watching nature and sunsets

also loves taking you through the woods (but only during broad daylight because he still hasn’t recovered from that werewolf story his friend told him in grade 2)

once you’ve reached your destination, he’ll laugh and jump up and down, kissing your hand and face a thousand times

but the journey towards the destination is literal hell

“y/n, i know men are supposed to carry women, but i’m pretty lightweight, and my legs might snap any moment now,”

“y/nnnn please gimme a piggy back ride up the hill i might faint”

“wow y/n i’m offended i don’t think you deserve all these awesome places i take you to,”

and when you glare at him, he’s a 180 flip, because you might just break his bones for choosing such a faraway location in the first place

“i-i mean you don’t deserve them because you’re so much prettier than them!”

𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔

okay see kisses with jisung are always quick and short because even if you’ve shared these moments a hundred times, each of them still feels like the first one

but sometimes he takes his time, kissing your forehead, then your nose, then your cheeks, then skips your lips and moves down to your chin

but when you pout / whine he’ll chuckle softly and come back up to kiss you

so yeah kissing with jisung is very giggly and soft all the time

but otherwise, he’d never notice how soft and bubbly his cheeks are if it weren’t for you

you’re always kissing and pinching his cheeks (like you should!!)

and he won’t act like he doesn’t like it; he’ll laugh it off or reciprocate your love because he feels very loved around you and wouldn’t change it for the world or better.

thank you, y/n

𝒍𝒆𝒆 𝒇𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒙 

I want to grow old with you.

𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈

you first meet him at the café he works!

initially it wouldn’t be much, just you hurriedly ordering your coffee and leaving

but then you’ll notice the small hearts he scribbles after your name on the cup, sometimes even going as far to write a lil “you’ll do great!” or “you look really sweet today”

so one day you decide to go to his café with your friend

and while leaving you slip in your number to him, but turns out this ball of sunshine is trying to slip in his number to you; so you have a new thing to laugh about

so yeah you start hanging out after his shifts, sometimes you wait for him to close the café for the day

“y/n you know you don’t have to wait for me tonight, it’ll get pretty late,”

“no lixie, i’d rather go home late with you than go home alone,”

but he knows you only wait for him so that you can eat all the donuts and cupcakes with him after his shift ends

but its a win-win for both of you, so he doesn’t mind :D

𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒔

so he knows it’s like top 10 anime betrayals to his workplace, but he loves taking you to pet cafés

one, because he loves animals

two, because you love animals

three, because he loves you playing around with these animals

“awh felix can we steal this one? it’s so cute,”

and he’s just laughing because you’re so c u t e

“i don’t think that’s allowed, y/n,”

but not gonna lie i bet he has tried sneaking out a dog for you, but he got caught by one of the workers there

“o-oh! when d-did this little guy fit into my j-jacket pocket!”

super adorable uwu

calls you angel and princess, while you’re calling him sunshine all the time

loves decorating your hair with flowers

oh! he loves braiding your hair too

like when you’re over at his place he’s always experimenting with your hair; doing little salon roleplays with you and prettying your hair

but sometimes when he’s tired from work he’ll let you braid his hair

also loves having matching outfits

before dating him you thought matching couple outfits were cliché and stupid, but after dating him, you realize how different they are

dating felix also means your fashion sense improves a lot👀

𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔

felix, like hyunjin, has very kissable lips

he probably tastes like vanilla,plus he’s a great kisser

you’re wondering where he learnt all that from

making out with felix happens every other day, but its usually in bed with him on top of you while you guys are watching some movie / playing video games

also he’ll probably end up sleeping like that as you two slowly get tired

his face on your chest / on your shoulders and hands tight around your waist

this boy really loves you okay you better not make him sad >:(

𝒌𝒊𝒎 𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒎𝒊𝒏 

You complete me.

𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈

at! the!! library!!!

you’re trying to pick a book from the second-to-top shelf, but since the universe decided to give you the most inconvenient height possible, here you are, contemplating if you should just drop the whole shelf down to get that book

but thankfully, seungmin is to the rescue!

he’ll smile and wordlessly take the book and hand it down to you

everyday its the same story; there’s a book that you really like, but its too far for you, but slowly you don’t mind because somehow seungmin is always there around at the same time to take that book for you

one day he decides to take initiative, but realizes he’s a coward and can’t do shit

so he’s over the moon when you come and sit next to him

“hey, i’m sorry for the trouble, but uhh i need some help with this assignment…”

and of course he’s there to help you! he’ll clarify where you need him to and explain you better than ever

slowly interactions increase and before you know it, you’re lying on your stomach on his bed with your legs dangling in the air as you two have your noses in a book

you learn more and more about each other, ultimately to the point where you know better about each other than about yourselves

𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒔

initially when you two have just started dating, there would be study dates at the café down your block

but later you two take each other out on weekends, sometimes to the movies, sometimes to the town fair.

ahh but when dates are at the fair… >:)

let’s assume seungmin doesn’t have good experiences with rides

so naturally you will… take him to the rides only mwahaha

“y/n do you not love me? why are you doing this,”

you’re just evil laughing, you sadist

dates for seung-y/n are just sleepovers at each others house

he’s laughing like crazy when you’re messing shit up

“seungmin can you help me i’m stuck in this shirt,”

seungmin: proceeds to laugh for the next ten minutes at your contortionist-self

now unlike changbin, seungmin will not show you off to his friends

he doesn’t like the concept of ‘claiming you’, but he doesn’t like sharing you either.

“hey, isn’t that too revealing for a party?”

“seungmin? its a knee length skirt??”

𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔

kisses = pecks on the lips / cheeks

you’re simply cooking / studying and he’ll wrap his hands around your waist from behind and rest his head on your shoulder

“what is my y/n doinggg?”

and he’ll kiss your cheek

sometimes leans forward to kiss you on your lips too

but in general kisses are soft

he’ll have a hand on your stomach, one on the back of your neck to rub smooth comforting circles

to be honest your relationship is more like best friends because you’re just always there for each other and can talk about the most stupidest things openly

you: “you know i’ve heard stars are all our forefathers looking down at us,”

seung: “really? i though they were just balls of gas though,”

you: “nah, i don’t think that’s true,”

𝒚𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒋𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒊𝒏

I love everything there is to love about you.

𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈

he moved in the same neighbourhood as yours, and since he was the only person around your age (and the only normal one your age), you had to be friends with him

you two meet up every evening at the neighbourhood park, and he doesn’t really mind your company, especially when you bring you little brother with you

“awh, is that your little brother? he’s so cute!”

“yeah, he is; thanks!”

“he looks nothing like you!”

he’s initially very shy to talk to you

but when he realizes how cool your personality is (and how pretty you are🤭)

he’s knocking at your door everyday to take you and your little brother to the park

he always buys you ice cream though, and somehow it’s always the flavour you like

“oh thanks jeo— ah i don’t like this flavour” :(

“don’t worry y/n! i’ll get you another one!”

𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒔

homeboi is very shy

the fact that he’s dating the perfect person for him (!!!) is enough for butterflies and grasshoppers and bees and dinosaurs to fly in his stomach

he gets really fidgety, but he feels a little nervous thinking about the fact that most of the ‘firsts’ in your relationship are celebrated by you; first ‘kiss’ (to which he held your hand home, then went to his house to dolphin scream into his pillows), first ‘date’ (in which you took him out to the beach to watch the sunset and have snacks) and first ‘one month’ (where you took him out to an expensive restaurant, even when he refused a couple billion times)

phew that was a long point

so he decided to celebrate your first ‘out-of-town trip’, where he drove you all the way to a cherry blossom forest

he also took a thousand pictures of you, coming back home to print one of them and safely put it in his wallet

he feels every small moment spent with you so endearing, he finds himself smiling randomly

𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔

as previously mentioned, your first kiss was initiated by you; you two were walking home from the neighbourhood park like always, and jeongin had carried your brother in his arms, playing with him

you couldn’t stop thinking about how your first kiss would be, and so when he dropped you off to your house, you simply had to kiss him

he puts your brother down, waving him goodbye, and just when he’s about to say his farewells to you, you instantly peck his lips, after which both your eyes were wide is plates

“i-i’m sorry i should've—”

“ah no it’s okay, uh,” he scratches his neck, biting his lip to control his smile

and you simply chuckle at his cuteness, muttering a small ‘bye’ and ‘love you’ before going into your house

and the way his face changes once he’s out of your sight is just— *chef’s kiss*

he’s running home, and when his brothers ask him what happened, he’s just ignoring them and goes to his room to scream and laugh his heart out into the sheets

his family thinks he’s insane by now, but of course! he’s in love!

plus that with the cutest person in the whole world!

a/n; and it’s finally up! it didn’t take me long to write this because the ideas just came flooding in sdfkhsdjk but thank you so much for your feedback for hyung line! also!!! this is the only two fics which do not have a read more cut because I’m using a mobile device for posting these,, sorry🙈

note; credits to @neocult-icons​ @chnsbbg @district9edits @skzicons for the pictures!!

taglist; @hyukminie @cherryeol04 @lomlminho @bruh-changbin @yooniversalstudios @ann0325441904 @yourdaddychan @mahalau​ (message me if you want to be added!)

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Victor’s Return Home Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

The date begins in a conference room, where a meeting has been going on for almost three hours

When LFG invested in an online video platform called SE, LFG held a press release stating that it was a strategic move for the international film and TV market

However, just within two years, SE found itself racking up billions of dollars in debt due to its poor project management

As such, people in the know have been secretly ridiculing Victor for making an error of judgement

Fortunately, LFG’s connections with the media prevented this information from leaking out

But it doesn’t change the fact that LFG messed up this time

Victor hasn’t slept in two days - he’s been poring through documents, project materials, and would sometimes sit in the conference room alone for several hours, forgetting to eat :

When Victor returns to the hotel, there are over a hundred unread notifications on his phone. 

He doesn’t pay attention to such information, but taps on the only pinned message amid the countless lists of prompts.

Unsurprisingly, it’s filled with insignificant idle talk, coupled with several different emoticons.

Victor loosens his tie slightly, reading through the messages from top to bottom. 

“I made an improved version of omurice. Want to try it?”

“What is Goldman talking about in his Moments - something about being angry and tired. Is the meeting not going smoothly?”

“Remember to eat...”

“And remember to sleep!”

Victor’s finger pauses at this line, and there’s a gentle emotion flowing in his eyes.

“The internet celebrity lawyer you mentioned the other time agreed to my invitation for an interview, so I’ll be rushing out the proposal this Saturday. Want to be a supervisor?”

Victor opens the dialog box. Once he sends an “ok”, the other party immediately responds with an emoticon of a winking cat. 

Thinking of the time right now, he arches his brows slightly. 

-

Nestled in my quilt, I’m just about to embark on a long speech regarding the weekend’s schedule, but the phone in my hand suddenly vibrates, surprising me. 

Victor: Did you not sleep, or did you wake up?

MC: Haha...

Victor: What are you laughing at? 

MC: It feels like that is something I often ask you. Why is it now your turn to ask me?

Victor: It’s only 5am now. 

MC: I didn’t get a reply from you, so I couldn’t sleep...

I turn over, changing to a more comfortable position against the corner of the quilt. I press the phone tightly to my ear. 

MC: What project are you busy with this time? Is it going smoothly? 

Victor: Smoothly. It’s still early, you can sleep for a while longer.

MC: ...I can’t really sleep now. Are you still coming back on Thursday as you said last time? 

Victor: Before Saturday. 

MC: It’s only Tuesday today... and the sun hasn’t come out yet. 

I hear Victor laugh, his low tone mixed with some tiredness.

Victor: You find it too late? 

MC: I wouldn’t dare to. If it weren’t something important, you wouldn’t delay returning. However... even if it’s because of work, you did go back on your word, so you have to promise me one thing. 

A deep and slow sigh enters my ear, revealing a faint sense of fatigue.

Victor: You can say it. 

MC: You have to eat, and you have to sleep.

The other end of the phone call grows silent for a few seconds. 

Victor: Mm, I promise you.

The misty morning light is on the curtains. In the midst of my quiet grogginess, I close my eyes, wanting to feel the frequency of his breaths. 

MC: ...it has been raining continuously in Paris these two days. 

Victor: It’s like that during this season. 

MC: Is... is it very cold...

Victor: No, it isn’t. 

My consciousness grows increasingly darker, but I can still clearly capture his voice in my bizarre dream world. 

Victor: [in the gentlest of gentle voices] Sleep if you’re tired. I’m hanging up. 

MC: N-not tired... don’t hang up...

Victor: You can’t even speak clearly, and you’re still unwilling to sleep?

MC: ...

I just need five more seconds to be clear-headed--

I let out a sound of agreement, unsure if I managed to say this aloud.

Very soon, only Victor’s long and steady breaths at my ear remain in my world. It’s very, very close. It’s a closeness that gives one a peace of mind. 

Victor: Are you asleep?

MC: ...

Victor: Sleep then.

Victor: ...

Victor: Sleep peacefully. 

-

On Saturday afternoon, I lift my head towards the wall clock for the nth time. When the needle points to the number ‘3′, I can no longer help myself, and give Victor a call. 

After the dial tone, the notification that the other party is unable to answer the call sounds. Before I can react, the doorbell rings. 

Victor is standing at the door and just about to put his phone back into his pocket. In a daze, I look towards at his empty hands. 

MC: Your luggage...

Victor: Goldman took them back. I still have to return to LFG tonight. 

As he speaks, he enters and changes his shoes in the hallway. After that, he walks straight into my bedroom.

Victor: What have you been doing these two days? 

He walks to the coffee table, picking up the messy outline I was working on for an interview. He takes a glance and then lifts the corners of his lips. 

Victor: You said you were working seriously for several days, but you just did a few outlines? 

MC: Don’t underestimate me! I’ve looked through quite a number of materials. Look!

I point at the stack of trending societal topics and legal-related books on the floor. 

MC: Preparatory work speeds up the actual process. Also, didn’t I recognise my inadequacies and ask you to be a supervisor? 

I hurriedly drag a chair to the coffee table and place a headrest on the back of it. 

MC: Please sit. I guarantee that from this second onwards, I’ll concentrate on the proposal. Before the sun sets, I’ll definitely have the first edition out. 

Victor can’t help but laugh. He hangs his coat on the clothes rack in the corner, then pulls the chair over to himself. After sitting down, he seems to recall something and lets out a faint sigh. 

Victor: Lend me your laptop for a while.

I hand him my notebook computer, and a thought flashes across my mind -- how could he not have brought a laptop out?

MC: Victor, when did you get infected by my scatterbrained habits? 

Victor: Only this time. I forgot to take it with me after leaving it in the backseat.

Victor avoids my teasing gaze. With his expression unchanged, he starts approving documents on the LFG intranet. 

Victor: The sun is setting in two hours. 

MC: Who knows - maybe the sun wouldn’t feel like going home today. 

I return to my seat, resting my chin on my palm while looking towards Victor. 

The light golden sunlight streams in from the window, slowly enveloping Victor. The quiet, warm rays of light are coupled with a calming woody scent, and are very pleasant. 

Victor doesn’t speak. His fingers tap against the desk from time to time. In this quiet room, the sound of our breathing is amplified.

After an inordinate amount of time, he finally lifts his eyes and meets mine.

Victor: Staring at me can help you finish your proposal?

MC: I’m not staring at you. I’m silently conceptualising ideas.

After my words are out, a short “ding” sounds.

MC: Wait for a moment~ 

In a flash, I rush to the kitchen and retrieve the aromatic cookies from the oven. After carefully placing them on a cooling rack, I bring it back to the room along with two cups of warm drinks. 

MC: Afternoon tea time!

Victor casts a glance at the cups and arches his brows slightly. Steam floats from the hot cup of milk, and strands of warmth merge with the sweetness in the house.

MC: Your dark circles are so deep, so don’t drink coffee, all right?  

Victor: I’m fine. 

I thought Victor meant that he wouldn’t drink this, but he holds up the cup after speaking. 

Once I sit down, I push the plate filled with cookies towards him. 

MC: Look at my new mold - isn’t it cute?

I point at the cookies, which are shaped like cats with different expressions on them. 

MC: This one is yawning, this one is full of grievances, this one has already fallen asleep, but I like this one the most. It keeps having an angry face. I called it “Qi Gu Gu”.

[Note: Names don’t translate well into English, so I left it as it is. The original name is 气鼓鼓, which means “seething”]

Victor’s eyes sweep towards my fingers. 

Victor: Looks like you. 

MC: Is that so?

I puff my cheeks, mimicking the cat on the cookie and squinting my eyes to look at Victor. 

As predicted, Victor ignores me. There is a measure of speechlessness in his eyes.

I laugh and bring “Qi Gu Gu” to his lips. 

MC: Give it a try? 

Victor takes a bite straight from my hand, then returns his gaze to the laptop. 

MC: Aren’t you going to evaluate it? 

He purses his lips slightly, and I can’t tell if he’s smiling or not. He leans forward a little, then finishes the remaining half of “Qi Gu Gu” in my hand. 

His warm lips brush against my fingertips, leaving behind a soft, lingering warmth. A fluffy, light, and sweet sense of happiness stirs up slowly in my heart. 

Contented, I sweep the crumbs off my hands and take up my pen again. 

Soon after, MC’s mind starts wandering to how fine the weather is

And how fine her man is 👀

He doesn’t show much emotion while working, and his expression looks as calm as always. But the deep look of concentration between his eyebrows is a little different from usual.

As for what exactly is different...

It’s probably how one just can’t look away.

Victor: It’s only been a few minutes. How many times have you lost focus? 

I hurriedly retract my gaze, pretending to be scribbling on the paper like an “obedient” student who got caught doing something improper by a teacher.

But my ideas have not been completely formulated, and I can’t think of anything to write. The only thing I can do is draw a small heart at the top right-hand corner of the paper. 

Sensing Victor’s lingering gaze on me, I continue scribbling until it becomes a solid heart, then attach a tilde at the end.

After pausing for a moment, I let out a soft sigh and lift my head slightly. 

Victor: Why are you sighing.

MC: ...I can’t help it.

Victor: Can’t help what? 

MC: Can’t help looking at you. 

I cross my arms together, changing to a more comfortable position and plopping onto the table. I tilt my head towards Victor. 

He lets out a barely audible laugh. Just as he’s about to speak, a familiar ringtone sounds from his pocket. 

Watching Victor pick up the call, my messy thoughts instantly vanish, and I feel slightly downcast.

Victor: The time now is...

While speaking, Victor looks at the bottom right corner of the laptop. After a slight pause, he looks at the phone. 

Victor: 4.30pm. Have them give me a reply by 8pm. 

His words are concise. After he hangs up, I ask him a little hesitantly. 

MC: Do you... have to go back to LFG now? 

Victor: I'm not leaving. 

While saying this, he sets his phone on silent mode and places it at the corner of the table. Meeting my hesitant gaze, there’s a sense of resignation in his calm eyes.

Victor: Your laptop is set to Paris’ timezone. 

I fail to understand the implication behind his words, so I just nod subconsciously. 

MC: Mm, it’s easier to tell the time like that. 

Victor doesn’t speak. He sweeps another glance at the laptop. At this moment, the system sends a report of the weather forecast in Paris over the next five days - there will be continuous rain every day.

He smiles faintly, then closes the laptop slowly.

Victor: ...you’re really becoming more and more dumb.

MC: ...yes yes yes, taking care of a dummy like me is really a bother for Mr CEO. 

I deliberately pout, but can’t help but smile along with Victor. I stand up and retrieve our two empty cups.

MC: I'll go wash the cups. Is there anything you want to eat?

Victor: No need. Are you treating me as you? 

I let out an indignant “hmph”, then turn around and head to the kitchen. 

I originally thought it would only take a few minutes to wash the two cups. But by the time I cleaned and tidied up the tools I used for baking earlier, half an hour has passed. 

When I return to the room, Victor is lying on the bed, my incomplete outline in his hand.

I soften my footsteps and walk over, leaning close to his ear and whispering:

MC: Victor, are you asleep? 

Victor doesn’t respond, but has a shallow intake of breath, his eyelashes quivering gently under the twilight. 

MC: Are you really sleeping or just pretending to sleep? 

Very lightly, I climb onto the bed, inching towards him.

MC: Victor? 

I call his name again softly, but he still does not respond. But the corners of his lips curl up slowly, revealing a smile.  

MC: You aren’t asleep, are you.

I lean one hand on the bed, and use my other hand to lift up a few strands of his hair. 

Looking at his smooth and sharp jawline, my fingertips unconsciously rub the tips of his hair. 

MC: ...have you been very tired recently?

Victor: No.

His words carry with them a certain sleepiness - perhaps he hasn’t had rest in a few days, so he gets drowsy once he relaxes just a little. 

MC: Didn’t you already look at my interview outline? Why are you looking at it again? 

Victor: To see what exactly you were scribbling. 

I think about that heart with its little tail, and am left speechless, as though I got caught having a bad idea. 

Victor: You specially got me here to supervise you, but you only wrote these few sentences the whole afternoon? 

MC: Yeah. Next time, I won’t ask you to be a supervisor! When you’re in front of me, my work efficiency takes a nose-dive. 

I reach out to take my notebook from his hand, then cover him with a blanket. Victor turns his head, his half-closed eyes meeting mine. 

It’s very rare for me to see such a burnt-out look in his eyes. Right now, I can only feel the emotions in my heart towards this person becoming a hundred times more tender. 

MC: Sleep for a while before going to LFG? I’ll wake you up at 7.30pm.

With the rigour of Victor’s schedule, several important meetings were cancelled at short notice so he could fly to Paris. After that, his return was delayed twice.

We already agreed that he’d return before Saturday, but it suddenly changed to Saturday itself...

This wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t an extremely troublesome matter. 

...and he still stubbornly said that he wasn’t tired.

I place my forefingers on his temples, making slow circles. After a while, a soft laugh drifts from his lips. 

Victor: [releases a sigh which sounds like a moan lol]...

Victor takes my right hand and encloses it in his palm, wordlessly pulling me closer to him. 

With this distance, every one of his breaths mingle with mine. I can’t help but bend down, pressing the corner of my lips to his fringe.

In the quiet darkness, I hear the frequency of our heartbeats and breathing mingling and becoming more and more synchronised.

Victor: ...there’s no need to worry about me. I haven’t reached the point where a dummy has to worry about me.

MC: Mm, I got it. 

I respond softly, but can’t hide the touch of peace in my smile. 

MC: ...I just can’t help it.

Can’t help but worry if you’re hungry or not, whether you're cold or not, whether you’re tired or not. 

Can’t help but want to see you, whether you’re in front of me or not.

Can’t help but reveal the smile in my brows and lips just because you surface in my mind. 

I look out the window - the clouds spread across the dim twilight and the stars are looming. The golden sunset and the quietness of the night meet at the end of the sky. 

The sun is about to set.

MC: Victor, I didn’t finish the interview outline before the sun set. Are you going to punish me? 

Victor: ...

The only response I get is the sound of his steady and peaceful breathing. 

I lower my head and look at his sleeping face. This familiar side profile has gotten slightly thinner over the span of just a few days. I reach out, stroking his cheek in mid-air.

Afraid to disturb him, I silently watch him.

MC: Sleep then.

MC: ...

MC: Sleep peacefully. 

[spookyhalloweennights]

The Patterns of You (Artaruk: SFW)

First place fic for @featherednutcase featuring a minotaur doctor! I hope you love it! <3 If you like my work and want to read more, check out my Masterlist! As always, requests and matchups are open!

You had just moved into your own house, excited to have finally been out on your own in the world. The job you had snagged provided you with enough income to live comfortably, and the city that you were in was practically perfect. As your friends would say to you, you had everything going right and it seemed as though nothing could tear you down. However it had seemed that your good luck had run out, after moving completely into the house, you had gotten sick which had forced you to take a day off of work which was something you hated doing. 

After taking some over the counter medication, you had felt good enough to return to your job the next day. Only for you to wind up in bed again with the sniffles and a raging headache, you had called the doctor’s office that was closest to your home while idly drawing patterns on your skin with a pen cap. The small flower disappearing quickly as you did so, which made a smile tug at the corner of your lips. Your friends had spoken positively of their soulmates, each one having already found their partner after scribbling down where they had lived on their skin. But you, you had received nothing back when it came to the drawings, not even an inkling as to if you actually had a soulmate. If you did, they may not have cared as much about the drawings as what you did. 

The thought caused a frown to cross your features and for a moment you didn’t hear the receptionist speaking on the other end of the line. When a long sigh came from the other end of the phone, you were jolted back into reality. Apologizing quickly, you had scheduled an appointment for later that evening with a relatively new doctor. You hadn’t paid close enough attention to what his name was, you just wanted to take a nap before the appointment. Once everything was scheduled, you hung up the phone and curled up under your blanket with a box of tissues next to you. 

When the alarm on your phone went off a couple hours later, you shut it off with a quiet groan, almost annoyed that you had been disturbed from such a peaceful sleep. For a brief moment you could’ve sworn you saw something written on the back of your hand but you dismissed it for the time being as you got up. Making yourself at least somewhat presentable in a pair of sweatpants and a loose fitting shirt you grabbed your keys and headed out to your car. 

The drive to the doctors office was a short one, about ten minutes at tops and you had managed to find a parking spot close to the door. After you had checked in, you had waited in their waiting room, idly messing with different games on your phone. You paused in your game, getting an idea as you began to draw little flowers all over your arm, hoping for some sort of response from your soulmate as the image you had drawn with your nail lightly disappeared in the blink of an eye. When nothing came back, you sighed softly and returned to your game until your arm had become itchy, you glanced down at your arm with a smile. Finally you were getting a response. 

“They’re beautiful.” Was the simple phrase scrawled in sloppy cursive read. You couldn’t help but giggle at the words on your skin. 

“Thank you, it took you long enough to respond.” You wrote back, adding a small smiley face at the end of the statement. It only took a few moments before another phrase was beginning to rise up on your arm.

“I’ve been busy… I love the little notes you give me, my name is Artaruk. I may not be able to respond back, I have an appointment coming up. The work never ends.”  Was the reply, you laughed quietly, looking up as the nurse had come out into the waiting room and called your name. You stood, stuffing your phone back into your pocket as you followed the nurse back into one of the exam rooms. 

She had gone over the basic information before jotting down the symptoms you described to her. After promising the doctor would be in shortly, you began to trace little patterns along your arm, something to amuse yourself in the meantime. Finding out that you did in fact have a soulmate made your day about a thousand times better. 

There was a gentle knock on the door before the doctor had walked in, you had nearly gasped in surprise. He was a huge black and white Minotaur with small horns, smiling at you, he greeted you warmly. 

“Good evening, I am Doctor Trevino.” His voice was soothing with the hint of an accent that you couldn’t quite place your finger on. “I see you have been having symptoms akin to a cold, no?” He questioned as he looked over your file and the notes the nurse had written down. 

“Correct, it’s been going on for awhile now, I just want to get better so I figured it was time I came in.” You answered honestly, watching as he typed on the too small keyboard carefully as if he was going to break it if he pressed down on the keys any harder. 

“Since it’s been going on for awhile now, I’ll send some medications over for the pharmacy to fulfill, you should be better in no time.” He gave you a charming smile that no doubt would have other girls melting. But not you, you were just grateful that whatever it was you had going on would go away soon. 

“Thank you doctor!” You chimed, slipping off of the table that you had been sitting on in the exam room and making your way to the receptionist desk to pay for the visit before you drove to the pharmacy. 

The medication that the doctor had prescribed had worked for a short while before it went right back to square one. And the process had repeated itself several times before Dr. Trevino had made a suggestion during one of your visits. 

“Have you had the house you moved into fully inspected? Sometimes things are hidden and aren’t caught right away, like mold, if you have allergies that could be what’s making this cold linger so long.” He had mentioned to you offhand, the more you had thought about it the more it had almost made sense. 

You had called an inspector out, and it had turned out that the house did in fact have mold in it. It had put a damper on things and your wallet would take a hit with the removal fees, but that was all worth it once the house was cleared. 

In the meantime, you had finally managed to get a number out of your soulmate, finding yourself texting them at all hours of the night when they had gotten off of their shift. While you had drawn them flowers and little notes throughout the day, they had hastily scribbled down reminders that made you laugh. Your soulmate had even gone as far as to ask you to text them every so often to make sure they had indeed done the thing they needed to. 

You had asked them several times to meet up with you, and each one had been blown off as they couldn’t get off of work and you were starting to think you’d never meet them. Until they had texted you out of the blue one evening asking if you had wanted to go on a date with them the following day as they had a day off from work. You had eagerly agreed to it and he had suggested a nice café in town that you swore had the best drinks on the menu. 

What you hadn’t expected was to see Doctor Trevino sitting in a booth. You had glanced around before texting your soulmate, asking where they were sitting. When you heard Doctor Trevino’s phone go off, you grinned as he responded back to the text you had sent him. Shortly after your phone had vibrated with the new text, you walked over and slid into the booth seat across from him. A look of surprise had crossed his features momentarily before he smiled at you sheepishly. 

“I didn’t expect it to be you but this is a pleasant surprise.” He began with a quiet laugh, you nodded in agreement. 

“Well, it’s nice to finally meet you Doctor Trevino, or should I call you Artaruk?” You asked teasingly, the waitress swinging by your table to take your orders. 

“Artaruk please.” He answered with a smile. The waitress appeared a few moments later with both of your drinks in hand. 

The date had gone over really well, and you had left the café in high spirits. You had talked about everything and anything that had come to mind. But the main thing had been why he hadn’t bothered to respond to any of your other questions that you had written on your skin for your soulmate to, he had soothed your worries, explaining that he had seen each and every question. But he was a bit of a scatterbrain and would forget to write an answer back, or at times he was too busy to respond. He was a doctor that traveled from one practice to another, wherever they needed him he went.

Enough so that you had eventually agreed to go out with him a second time, and then a third. But eventually, you had managed to get yourself sick again. Catching a cold from one of your coworkers had you bed-ridden for a week. Artaruk had even used some of his days off to come take care of you despite you being rather needy at times. It was worse this time around, and it almost seemed as though as soon as you had started to feel the slightest bit better, it immediately got worse again. Artaruk had scolded you multiple times as you would do things that you shouldn’t be while you were sick. 

“It’s still not going down.” He huffed, checked your temperature for the tenth time that day, a deep frown covering his features as he retrieved the bowl of soup he had made you. You hadn’t been able to keep much down other than the soup and saltine crackers that he had crushed up and mixed into the soup. 

“I’ll be fine, nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” You croaked out, your throat sore from all the coughing you had been doing, the cough drops he had gotten you weren’t helping much either. You had figured that all you would need to do was ride the storm out. 

You had propped yourself up enough that you could take the bowl from his hands, shooting him a thankful smile as you began to eat it. While you didn’t eat much, it was enough to satisfy the minotaur when you had said that you were done. 

“I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you making me food.” You sniffed, the Minotaur playfully rolling his eyes at you.

“Probably not make it through these trying times.” He huffed a laugh before reaching down to ruffle your hair lovingly. 

You smiled and shifted, scooting over in your bed so that he could join you. “Snuggle me?” You asked innocently.

For a moment it had seemed as though he was debating on if he should or not before he finally sighed in defeat. Climbing into the bed next to you, he held open his arms and you had instantly snuggled right against his chest. His fur was short but still really soft and you never got tired of messing with it when you could. He had pressed a kiss to your forehead as you finally began to drift off to sleep, the first time you had felt comfortable since getting this sick. 

With Artaruk taking care of you, considering that he was a doctor after all, you were feeling better in no time. A couple of days after he had started taking care of you, you finally felt well enough to go back to work which was something you were grateful for. Although a couple of nights after you had started going back to work, you had come home one evening to find your minotaur sprawled out on the couch with a dozen tissues scattered around the floor. He had glanced up at the sound of the door opening and merely gave you a half-hearted wave before laying back down with a groan.

“Not feeling so well?” You asked almost teasingly, setting your bag down by the door as you walked over to him and placed your hand against his forehead. He felt warmer than he normally did, so you had begun to set to work. “I told you to take the day off, call in sick and rest up but no, you didn’t want to listen to me and instead had gone into work to help them out.” You huffed at the bull who had dismissed it with a wave of his hand. 

“At least I wasn’t interacting with patients, it was just organizing the files and stuff that day since they heard me sniffing.” He sighed, reaching for a bottle of water that was on the coffee table right beside him. You could only laugh in response to his excuse. Remembering how the two of you had bickered about whether or not he should go to work, you walked into the kitchen and began to make soup for him. 

As the smell drifted throughout the small house, he gave a quiet chuckle. “Thank you.” He hummed, climbing up off the couch and walking into the kitchen, only to rest his chin on your shoulder. You laughed in response and playfully nudged him. 

“Hey now, back up there mister, I don’t need to be getting sick again, I just got better and one of us needs to be bringing in the money for this house.” You teased, Artaruk merely huffed in response before sitting down at the table. It wasn’t long before you felt the familiar itching of your arm, glancing down you noticed there was a little heart and all you could do was smile in response to it. 

“I love you too, but I think you need to listen to me better next time. Especially since I’m the one who gets sick the most.” You chided, the bull laughing in response to the statement before coughing. 

Plopping a bowl of soup down in front of him, you sat across from him at the kitchen table. He eyed the bowl warily before taking a spoonful of soup. You were going to treat him exactly how he treated you when you were sick, and you were going to enjoy  every second of it. When he was done and you had felt he ate enough, you had cleaned up before motioning to the shared bedroom. 

Once inside, he had plopped down on the bed before tugging the covers up over him. Closing his eyes and drifting off into a light sleep, you ran your fingers through his soft fur. “Sleep well Doctor, I hope this passes quickly for you.”

[vannahfanfics]

Raincheck

Category: Angst, Drama, Romantic Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Hitoshi Shinso, Ochako Uraraka

Hello everyone! This is my story for the @shinsoubigbang​! When you get a chance, also check out my partner's artwork; they did an amazing job illustrating a scene from the story. :)

The wind tugged at Hitoshi’s lavender locks and whipped at the capture weapon around his neck as he perched on the edge of the rooftop. He hunched like a gargoyle as he carefully surveyed the sprawling mess of back alleys below his sneakers. Crime always festered in dark places, especially on cloudy, moonless nights like these. Hitoshi could almost hear the whispers of malcontent and mischief rising with the wisps of fog. His instincts were buzzing, tingling just beneath his skin, indicating that his hunt for criminals would soon bear fruit. 

His lilac-hued eyes snapped to the side as the air suddenly rang with the rhythmic clacking of heels. A young woman in a waitress’ garb quickly strode down a cobblestoned back road. She clutched her purse tight to her chest and feverishly looked to her left and right. Despite her vigorous attempts, her caution did not avail her. Hitoshi watched a shadow slink out from behind a dumpster. A knife glinted in the dark as its blade caught the dull yellow light spilling from the nearby streetlamp. The shadowy figure crept up behind the unsuspecting woman, reaching for her brunette hair bunched in a bun— 

and that’s when Hitoshi swung down in a dark fury, his capture weapon wrapping tightly around the man’s wrist. The woman screamed and stumbled into the wall as the hero wedged himself between her and her would-be assailant. The mugger cursed and tugged violently against his bindings, but he could not best the hard-earned muscles of Hitoshi’s arms, which flexed as he drew the capture weapon so tight that it ceased the man’s blood flow and forced his fingers apart. The knife clattered to the ground, useless, and the startled thief met Shinso’s cool, cold purple eyes. 

“Someone taught you the wrong way to pick up women, mate,” Hitoshi tsked while wagging his finger scoldingly. The mugger’s face turned an ugly red-purple hue, and he vehemently resumed clawing and yanking at the capture weapon. 

“You motherfucker! I’m gonna—” He wasn’t going to do anything, actually, which he realized when his jaw slackened and his eyes clouded over as Hitoshi’s Quirk washed over him. 

“Do me a favor and stop struggling, will you?” Hitoshi tutted. The man obediently lowered his arm, standing still as a statue as Hitoshi loosened the bindings and looped them back around his neck. The hero returned his attention to the young woman, who was still pale-faced and hugging the dirty brick wall while staring at the mugger in horror. 

“He… He won’t do anything?” she squeaked as Shinso abandoned him to walk over to her. 

“Him?” he asked with a jab of his thumb. “Nah,” he reassured with a wily smirk. “He’s completely under the control of my Quirk. He won’t do anything I don’t put in his empty head. Now, miss, are you hurt?” Still gawking apprehensively at her attacker, she slowly shook her head. To Hitoshi’s relief, however, her rigid body slowly relaxed, and she turned to look at him. 

“Thank you for saving me… I should have known better than to use this shortcut, but it’s my daughter’s birthday party and I wanted to hurry home after my shift since I couldn’t get off for her party…”

“I’m sorry you had to miss it,” Hitoshi said genuinely. “It’s dangerous around here, though. I’ll call in a police escort to get you home safely in addition to handing over this guy if you don’t mind waiting a little longer, okay?” Though she probably didn’t want to waste any more time, the near-catastrophe rattled her thoroughly enough to comply. Hitoshi walked out of the side street onto the sidewalk flanking the main road. After phoning the police, he paused to open a video message. 

“Hey, ‘Toshi!” Ochako’s bubbly round face dominated the screen, cheeks rosy and brown eyes sparkling as she waved excitedly. “I just got back from my P.R. trip to America. You wouldn’t believe all the amazing things I saw! We should get together for lunch tomorrow so I can tell you all about it. I’m sure you’re on patrol right now and will be until morning,” she said, leaning back in the camera frame, and he could see that she was dressed in a pair of fluffy white pajamas printed with green aliens in spacesuits. It made him chuckle; she always had adored silly pajamas like that. “I’ve got a bit of jet lag so I’ll be awake for a while, so call me when you get off, okay? Bye-bye now!” she chirped while waving before the video cut off. 

Hitoshi stared at the frozen image of Ochako’s big bright smile, a soft one forming on his own lips. After he’d joined Class A in U.A.’s Hero Course, he’d become fast friends with all of them. However, to everyone’s surprise including his own, he’d gravitated the most to Ochako. She was just so bubbly and bright, the perfect counterpart to his subdued and relaxed personality. He found her endless optimism and drive refreshing, so much so that they still kept up with one another even after graduation. 

His big fat crush on her might have had a little to do with that, though. 

Hitoshi waited impatiently for the police with the waitress. He asked her questions about her daughter, and though she eagerly embraced the small talk to ease her nerves, Hitoshi really just let her responses go in one ear and out the other. He was too busy mentally configuring his schedule, trying to figure out the soonest he could call Ochako. In the end his impatience got the best of him, as he ended up calling her number as the police officers were loading the suspect into the back of the squad car and the other was taking a report from his would-be victim. 

“Wow, that was fast.”

Hitoshi smiled at her cheery voice buzzing on the other end of the line. He leaned against the hood of the patrol car and slid one of his hands into his pants pockets. 

“I just happened to have a break,” he shrugged. “I wanted to call and see how you were settling in after your trip.” 

“I’ve only been gone two weeks, but it still feels kind of weird to be back!” she giggled. He could envision her grabbing one of her fluffy pillows— probably the big sun plushie wearing sunshades— as she reclined against her headboard. “America was incredible! I can totally see how it was the birthplace of heroes. I can’t wait to tell you all about it, ‘Toshi.” 

“Are you sure you can wait until tomorrow?” he joked. In the background, he could hear the police radio crackling about a carjacking and a high-speed chase through town. As the sirens began to wail and red-and-blue lights painted the dark night sky, Hitoshi straightened up and looked around with narrowed eyes. “Hey, Ochako, hold on a minute. I think—” 

He never got time to finish the sentence. 

Everything was a blur as the car came careening down the street, followed closely by a police cruiser. The air filled with squealing tires and burning rubber as the police car braked harshly, but the carjacker had no care to do so, instead opting to plow right through the two police cars parked in the middle of the road in his effort to get away. One of the police officers managed to tackle the waitress into the safety of the alleyway, while the other was bowled over by the criminal, who was attempting to use the chaos to escape, even though he was handcuffed. 

Hitoshi was not so lucky. As the car zoomed past the cruiser, crunching the metal with a sickening sound, it glanced him. Even being glanced by a car going over one hundred miles an hour was enough to send Hitoshi flying back into the alleyway. His phone was slung from his hand as he crashed against the rough ground; he released a strangled gasp as he felt several of his bones snap. As he rolled down the alley, the back of his head smacked against the cobblestone. A white rush flooded through him from head to toe, filling his brain with cotton and his ears with a persistent ring. When he finally came to a rest on his back in a mangled mess of limbs, he was staring uncomprehendingly at the sky, blood leaking out of his lips. 

Dimly, he could hear Ochako’s voice echoing through the alleyway. He’d somehow managed to turn the phone on speaker. 

“‘Toshi? What happened? ‘Toshi? Hitoshi?!” 

The sirens continued wailing. The blue-and-red lights flashed around him like the stars falling to earth. He could feel blood leaking out from the back of his head, coating his lavender hair in thick, sticky globs. The woman was screaming and crying, while the police officers were shouting into their radios for an ambulance. As the darkness encroached on the edges of Hitoshi’s vision, he hung onto Ochako’s frantically screeching voice like a lifeline. 

He had to live. He had to live. He was going to meet her for lunch tomorrow…

~~~~~~~~~~

It began with a dull pounding ache. It thundered at the base of his skull, rising in intensity with each inch he crawled towards consciousness. The persistent pain made him want to drift back into the sweet embrace of sleep, but unfortunately the ache prevented it. He groaned lowly, lolling his head from side-to-side and hitting the hard plastic of the neck brace hugging his throat. His purple lashes fluttered open, and his eyes were greeted with bright, burning white. 

He blinked slowly, uncomprehendingly, at the nondescript white tiles above him. He could hear a heart monitor blinking steadily beside him. He could feel a thin hospital gown rubbing against his bruised skin, the casts wrapping his right arm and leg to immobilize them, and the bandage covering his swollen right eye. He was in a hospital, clearly, but what had landed him there in such a deplorable state? 

As he tried to remember, there was nothing. Emptiness. A blank slate. 

He furrowed his eyebrows in mild panic. Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t summon up memories about much of anything. He knew his name— Hitoshi Shinso— but that was it. As he shifted on the bed, breath hitching and his heart rate jumping on the monitor, it alerted the nurses outside. 

“He’s awake!” a nurse called as she bustled in through the doorway. “Hey, hey, it’s all right. You’re safe, in the hospital,” she cooed as she leaned over his bedside. Hitoshi looked at her with wild eyes. “What’s the matter, hun? Are you in pain? Do you need medication?” 

“Don’t remember,” he grumbled. 

“What, honey?” 

“I don’t remember anything…” 

The nurse gasped and straightened up, hand flying to her mouth. She looked nervously at the other nurses crowding the door. As they began to murmur worriedly to one another, the doctor strode in, frowning over Hitoshi’s chart. 

“Doctor, he says he doesn’t remember anything,” the nurse reported in a quiet voice. The professional looked at her before walking to Hitoshi’s side. Hitoshi squirmed uncomfortably under his stern, inquisitive stare. 

“Son, do you know your name?” 

“Hitoshi Shinso.” 

“Do you know how you got here?” 

Hitoshi shook his head as much as the neck brace would allow. “Can you remember anything from the last week?” Another shake of his head. “Last month?” Again, he shook his head. “What do you remember?” 

Hitoshi squeezed his eyes shut as he struggled to summon something, anything, from the recesses of his mind. A few snippets floated up in the sea of emptiness, which served to ease him just a little. “I’m a hero… I graduated from U.A. High School… But I don’t remember going there. I just know I did.” 

“Well,” the doctor sighed as he straightened up, tapping the pages of his chart, “you suffered a basilar skull fracture and an epidural hematoma. We had to puncture your skull to relieve the pressure on your brain, but you still developed a very severe concussion. It seems the head trauma has induced amnesia.” 

Hitoshi’s heart rate skyrocketed, causing the monitor to wail shrilly. 

“Will I get my memory back?” 

“Most likely. It may take some time, however, with an injury like yours. Some of your classmates are here; they’ve been waiting for you to recover from surgery. I can bring them in if you would like. Their presence may help to jump-start the process.” 

Hitoshi nodded robotically, still trying to process the great hole that had suddenly developed in his life. Time seemed to blend together, because the next thing he knew, a green-haired young man was inching into the room with a shaky smile. The doctor probably informed his supposed friends of his amnesia because the freckled boy treaded lightly and carefully— like he was afraid Hitoshi would shatter with one wrong word. 

“Hey, ‘Toshi,” the boy smiled as he pulled up a chair to his bedside. Hitoshi squinted at him. There was something familiar about that quivering smile, nervous twitching, and bright emerald eyes, but that was all. “I’m glad to see it’s okay… It’s me, Deku— er, Izuku Midoriya! Not that you would know that, I guess, considering the amnesia and all… We went to school together, y’know?” 

Hitoshi swallowed, but his mouth was dry so it made it a little difficult. 

“I see,” was all the lavender-haired boy said. At this time, a blond-haired skinny boy with a lightning-shaped streak of black in his bangs bustled in, red-faced and looking like he’d run all the way there. 

“Holy crap, is it true, Deku?” the boy panted, rushing up to grip the back of his chair. Izuku pouted over his shoulder at him. 

“Yeah, Denki… He doesn’t remember anything…” 

“Oh, man,” Denki said while nervously running his hand through his hair. “Ochako’s gonna be devastated…” 

Hitoshi perked up at the name. As soon as it passed Denki’s lips, it sent a jolt of recognition through him. Oddly, aliens and stars and the color pink suddenly came to mind. The two boys immediately noticed his reaction and exchanged hopeful glances. 

“Do you recognize that name?” Izuku asked hopefully. 

“I think so…” Hitoshi said quietly, fisting the scratchy white hospital blanket. “Ochako…” The name seemed to roll off his tongue so perfectly, and it sent a bubbly, happy feeling rising up inside of him. 

“That’s great! She was so worried about you, Hitoshi! It took her forever to get answers out of the first responders, and then she had to handle calling all of us, and then she was really upset when they wouldn’t let her see you because you were in surgery, so she’s been a mess all night—” Izuku babbled, but Hitoshi ignored it as he tried to process the way his heart was fluttering at the hazy image of a sweet round-faced brunette trying to surface in the void of his mind. 

“I think… I think I was in love with her.” 

Izuku stopped mid-sentence, emerald eyes blowing wide. Denki had his hand over his mouth as Hitoshi looked at them in muddled confusion. “Were we dating?” 

“Uh… no,” Denki coughed uncomfortably. Hitoshi’s frown deepened and he looked back down at the blanket. If that was the case, then why did just the mention of her name summon up a sense of deep fondness and happiness within him? “But, uh,” Denki continued, scratching at the side of his face, “we’ve all known you’ve had a crush on her for a long time— everyone but Ochako, that is.” 

“Denki!” Izuku gasped scoldingly, whirling around in his chair. 

“What?! The man’s got amnesia! I gotta help him out, right?” the blond argued defensively. Hitoshi was too busy blushing to listen to their quibbling. So, I do love her… But she doesn’t know. So, did I never tell her? Why not? 

“‘Toshi? Where is he? ‘Toshi! Hitoshi!” 

As she came barging in the room, tears streaming down her ruddy cheeks and brunette hair a mess, he immediately knew why. Even flustered and sobbing and disoriented from lack of sleep, she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever clapped eyes on. Even with no memories, he knew that. She tripped over his IV cord in her effort to scramble to him, face-planting against the tile floor. He jolted up in bed, the heart rate monitor picking up the leap in his heartbeat, but she was so frantic that she immediately recovered and practically threw herself down on the bed beside him. 

“I was so worried!” she sobbed, grabbing at the blankets as her tears rained down on his face and into his lavender hair. “We were— we were on the phone, and, and then, there was this big crash, and then the sirens, and— oh my God, ‘Toshi, you wouldn’t answer me, and no one would tell me anything, and I-I-I— oh, ‘Toshi, I’m so glad you’re alive!” she rambled through her tears before burying her face into his chest. Hitoshi grunted when pain flared across his body as his broken ribs crunched under the assault, but like hell he was going to say anything. Ochako wailed into him, drowning the thin cloth of the gown with tears and snot. As her body wracked and heaved, it jolted Hitoshi a little, but he gritted his teeth through the little stabs of pain. 

When she’d calmed down enough, she quietly asked against his chest, “Is it true? You have amnesia?” 

“Yes,” he admitted in a small breath. Ochako breathed in deeply, shakily. Then, she shot up, her teary brown eyes gleaming with determination. 

“That’s okay! We can work through it!” Hitoshi’s heart fluttered at her use of “we.” She grabbed his hands and squeezed them tight, giving him a watery smile. “I’ll be with you every step of the way, ‘Toshi. We’re gonna get you better, okay?” she said softly and threaded her fingers through his lavender hair. Her fingers skimmed over the shaved patch in his head and the sutures from where they’d had to split his skull open, and she hiccuped as a fresh wave of tears streamed down her cheeks. “I-it’s gonna be okay.” 

He wanted to tell her that of course it was, now that she was here. But words failed him, as he was too lost in the watery sea of her chocolate-brown eyes and the feeling that everything really was going to be okay. He remembered Ochako, and that was enough comfort to him to face all the trials ahead. 

~~~~~~~~~~

He was discharged from the hospital a week later. In addition to his head injuries, he’d sustained a broken arm and leg, three broken ribs, two fractured cervical vertebrae, and a myriad of scrapes and bruises. Because of the severity of his wounds and his amnesia, it was difficult for Hitoshi to manage by himself, so his friends took it upon themselves to care for him. Nothing humbles you like being unable to do even the most menial tasks, like put on clothes or bathe yourself. Hitoshi’s friends took it in stride, though, and always batted away his emotional expressions of gratitude. “It’s just what friends do,” they said. 

It made Hitoshi wish he remembered their friendships. Maybe then it would make him feel less like a charity case. 

Though his friends rotated shifts around their hero duties to help him throughout the day, Ochako always cooked dinner for him— without fail, every night. They would always insist on sharing the load, she stubbornly refused them. Toting in groceries, sometimes still in her hero uniform and beat up from the toil of the day, she’d grin determinedly. 

“My mom always said that nothing helps you heal faster than a good meal. That’s how I can help!” 

Hitoshi couldn’t find the words to tell her that her presence helped him heal more than food ever could. He’d sit in his wheelchair watching her cook, the way she turned up the radio and danced around the kitchen singing into the wooden spoon. Swinging her hips, she’d whirl around to serenade him with a goofy smile. Hitoshi never knew the words to the songs. He’d just grin back, charmed by her zest for life. It was so dazzling, so blinding, that even now he couldn’t find the courage to tell her how he felt. She was like the sun, so radiant and sublime that he felt like he couldn’t ever compete. 

He should say something to her. Really, he should. But… the words just couldn’t come, just like his memories. 

Three weeks in, Hitoshi’s memories had trickled in somewhat. Most of them were dredged up by old stories his friends told him, so there were still tons of gaps. Still, it made Hitoshi feel a little better; he no longer felt like he was trapped in a void and a stranger to himself. Looking back, it was a terribly scary and lonely feeling, for others to know more about you than you did. Though the doctor kept telling him to give it time, Hitoshi had already resolved himself to the fact that maybe he might not ever get them all back. His past would just be a jigsaw puzzle of little snatches of memory and secondhand information. 

As much as he tried to convince himself that it was all right, he couldn’t. He hated the not knowing— the not knowing all that time he was in love with Ochako besides those feelings. He wanted all of it, every moment he’d ever had with her to treasure and savor. It was maddening, not having that, so Hitoshi decided to just make do with the new moments. Now, if he could just get over himself and ask her out. 

“‘Toshi? Do you not like it?” 

Ochako’s sweet voice dragged him out of his thoughts. He was reclined on the couch with a bowl of noodles growing cold in his hand, the fork still halfway raised to his lips. It had been a new recipe, Ochako had said. Hurriedly, he scooped the noodles into his mouth and gave her an approving hum. 

“No, sorry. I was just lost in thought. It’s really good.” 

Ochako smiled relievedly, melting into his armchair. She set her empty bowl of noodles on the coffee table, idly flipping through the television channels as Hitoshi finished off his food before it really did grow cold and unappetizing. Eventually, Ochako decided there was nothing worth watching and flipped off the television. She rose to get their dirty dishes, and Hitoshi watched her with lidded lilac eyes. How could every move a person made be pure magic? As she waltzed out the room into the kitchen, the fluidness of her body just amazed him. 

Yet… something was wrong. He could tell. Her body was tense, the edges of her smile crinkled, her eyebrows just barely furrowed. She tried to pass it off with a smile to him as she walked back in, but Hitoshi wasn’t buying it. As she proposed renting a movie, he cut her off, gesturing for her to approach. Confused, she walked over and sat on the edge of the coffee table beside him. 

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he ordered. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment at Hitoshi’s brusque command. She shifted on the wood, pressing her hands between her thighs and rolling her bottom lip under her front teeth. Hitoshi waited patiently for the girl to gather her thoughts. 

“I haven’t been sleeping,” she admitted finally. “I’m tired.” Now that she brought it up, he could see the dark lines ringing the undersides of her eyes and the way that her body sagged. He wordlessly ordered her to elaborate, making her cheeks flood darker. “I… Ever since the accident, I’ve had nightmares, ‘Toshi,” she said hoarsely. The tears sprung to her eyes and began to roll down her cheeks, making her try and wipe them away with the heels of her palms. “That was the worst night of my life, hearing those awful sounds and not knowing what was going on, and— it felt like forever before I could finally find you, and then they told me you were in surgery and you might not make it, and I just— oh, I can’t get it out of my head. That night is just on replay for me, over and over.

And the worst part is that it’s so selfish of me!” she wailed, leaning over and burying her face into her hands. “You were the one in the accident, not me! If anything, you should be the one who’s haunted by it and I have no right to complain, but I… but I… I feel trapped…” she moaned miserably. “If I hadn’t picked up the phone… Then maybe you wouldn’t have ended up like this…” she revealed in a harsh whisper. 

“Oh, Ochako, no!” Hitoshi cried. In his effort to comfort her, he slid off the couch a little, making his brittle bones flare painfully in protest. He didn’t care. Clumsily, he gathered the crying girl into his arms and dragged her onto the couch with him. It was a tight fit, but she still curled into his side, crying into his shoulder as he hugged her tightly with his good arm. “God, Ochako, don’t blame yourself for what happened to me. It wasn’t your fault.” 

“But… If I had done something different…” she protested weakly, shaking her head and smearing her tears across his shoulder. To snap her out of her spiral, he pinched her cheek and tugged hard. She shot up into a sitting position, looking at him with wide eyes and her teeth and tongue peeking out from underneath her stretched lips. “‘Toshi… Ow… Tha’ hursh...” she slurred in protest and blinked rapidly as the tears continued to prickle at her eyes. 

“Listen to me,” he said sternly. “The accident was not your fault. It was just a freak thing, okay? If anything, it’s my fault for picking up the phone because I couldn’t wait until my patrol was over to call you.” As he spoke, the memories of that night and all the nights before came flooding back. As they rushed in like water, the flow of his words rose in tandem. “I was just so excited that you were back that I just had to hear your voice, right then, and I wasn’t paying attention to anything but you, and—” 

He stopped short, cheeks flooding pink as he realized what exactly was tumbling out of his mouth. Ochako stared dumbly at him, a little drool leaking from the corner of her mouth as he was still stretching it. He stiffly released her, causing the skin to snap back. There were pink imprints in her skin where he’d pinched it; she slowly reached up to rub at it, blinking sluggishly.

Well. The cat was out of the bag now, so Hitoshi might as well let it go wild. 

“Ochako… I don’t want you here every day because you feel responsible for what happened to me.” He smiled softly and reached up to cover her hand in his own, cupping her cheek. “I want you here because I love you. I’ve always loved you.” 

“You remembered?” she asked meekly. As a fresh wave of tears streamed from her eyes, Hitoshi’s smile widened, and he thumbed them away. 

“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “I never forgot, Ochako.” 

She sucked in a breath, then let it out shakily. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed a few times, tearfully processing the situation. After a few minutes of just silently crying next to Hitoshi, her cheeks began to flood pink again. 

“I… I would really like it if you kissed me right now,” she admitted bashfully. Hitoshi snorted with laughter, but hell, who was he to refuse? He gently moved his hand to the back of her head to pull her forward. Ochako melted into his touch, allowing him to maneuver her as he would to bring her face close. Her hands felt onto his chest, digging into the soft fabric of his tee-shirt. Hitoshi held her there for a moment, centimeters away, to admire the gorgeous view of her lidded brown eyes and flushed cheeks. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed. Her blush darkened and she shyly bit down on her bottom lip. He chuckled as she wiggled in impatience but opted against teasing her more. He closed his eyes and the gap between them, pressing their lips together in a sweet but passionate kiss. Ochako hummed as his mouth smoothed over hers, so naturally like it had always belonged there. Hitoshi kissed her languidly, savoring the softness of her lips and the aftertaste of chicken broth that was oddly pleasurable. Nothing promotes healing like a good meal, he thought with a mischievous smirk. Ochako would probably explode from mortification if he told her that. She was so cute when she was flustered, though, that it might always be worth saying. 

They kissed idly for quite a while, until their faces were flushed and they were a little out of breath. Ochako had draped herself over his chest and wormed her legs between his, careful not to jar his mending bones. She looped her arms around his neck to play with the ends of his fluffy lavender hair, chin propped on his chest so close that he could lean in and peck her lips every once in a while. 

“What are you thinking?” she asked him after he’d been quiet for some time. A smile slowly spread across his lips. 

“I was thinking…” he said, pausing to give her another soft, sweet kiss, “that we never had that lunch date, did we?” 

A smile slowly spread across her face, lighting her up like the sun. Bright as it was, Hitoshi couldn’t tear his gaze away; he wouldn’t, even if it blinded him forever. He would be glad if it was the last thing he ever saw. Giggling, Ochako snuggled into him, fluttering her long brown lashes. 

“No, we didn’t. You asked for one heck of a raincheck.” 

Hitoshi scoffed, making her stick out her tongue mischievously at him. One heck of a raincheck, indeed. That was okay, though. Even sad moments were moments, too, and Hitoshi valued every moment with Ochako like the most priceless jewel on Earth. Though he’d like to collect every one he could, he thought as they cuddled and began to drowse, he wouldn’t mind stretching this one out a little. It marked the beginning of new memories, after all.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[eideticmemory]

FINE LINE II | SPENCER REID

Two kids and two decades of history later, you and your ex-husband learn to navigate the world of co-parenting. PART 2! Read Part One.

Word Count: 3,643.

Warning: Daddy Issues, mommy issues, angst, drama, romance. Love to see it.

Spencer’s a deep sleeper; both E and Em get it from him. But the one thing that all three of them are trained to wake up to, is your voice.

“Hey!” You snapped at Spencer, landing a harsh blow beside his sleeping frame.

He jolted awake in familiar frenzy, reaching out to grab you, make sure you were safe.

“Hey, hey, it’s me,” you spoke. “Look, I need a favor.”

“A favor?” he muttered.

“Yes,” you nodded. “You wanna be here for a few days? I need some help. Take the kids to school today.”

“Wha—“

“Or let E drive your car, it doesn’t matter, she’s a good driver,” you shrugged. “They need to be there at 8:15 sharp or else the administration has a stick up their ass. They’ll wake themselves up, dress themselves — stylishly — and feed themselves. And, uh, if you make them late, they’ll lose their minds so try to be out of here by 8, okay? Okay. Thank you.”

“Wait, wait, wait, [y/n],” Spencer called, holding your hand in his palm. “Where are you going?” He weakly pat around the mattress, searching for his phone, and when he grabbed the device in his hand, he checked the time. “It’s six in the morning.”

“So?”

“So,” he sighed, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. You subtly averted your eyes to avoid seeing him shirtless, the duvet cover falling to his lap. “You didn’t get home until two in the morning.”

“You spying on me?” You asked.

“No, I just . . . can’t sleep knowing you’re out late at night—“

“Working,” you interjected.

“Working . . . and now you’re up four hours later?” He questioned.

“We could sit here and argue about who has a more messed up work schedule, or you can take the kids to school, just this once, and I’ll pick them up.”

“No, I’ll pick them up, don’t worry about it,” Spencer shrugged. “You go to work, I’ve got it.”

You sighed, “Are you actually staying until Sunday?”

“[y/n]—“

“No, Mr. Unit Chief, how did you get the week off from the BAU? Hm? It — it just doesn’t make sense.”

“So that’s what you wanted to ask me last night . . . why not just say it, [y/n]?”

“Don’t profile me, it’s valid question.”

“Listen,” he squeezed your hand lightly, just enough that the pressure silenced you. “I am off of work until Monday morning. You need me to drop off and pick up the kids? I can do that. Need me to feed them? I can do that, too. I can do it every day this week if you want. If you need to be at work, then go.”

You inhaled deeply, and released it in a sharp breath. “Thanks,” you shrugged. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”

The drive to your office was silent. Full of nothing but your thoughts and rambles and quiet scoffs. You missed the kids. Missed being with them in early hours like this, eating breakfast on the go, singing along to the radio. But your mind needed time to rest, to regroup away from Spencer and his sudden appearance.

When you arrived at work, you stumbled in to find an earlier bird than you. “Raven . . .” you mumbled. “I told you to go home, babe.”

“And I told you that this is getting in at 7:30 sharp . . .” she cleared her throat and glanced at you apologetically. “Boss. . .”

You sighed and shrugged, “Do you need help?”

“Nope,” she shook her head. “I’m right on schedule.”

You chuckled, full of pride, “Good.” You wandered over to your private office and secluded yourself behind the glass doors. Taking a seat at your desk, you plopped down with a tired huff. You rested your head on your folded arms, and just as you began to snore, your phone rang in your ear. You jumped up in a daze, groaning out at the device in frustration. When you picked it up, however, and saw who was calling, you gasped, whined, fell back childishly in your chair.

You sighed, answering the facetime, “Hi, Penelope.”

“Don’t ‘hi, Penelope” me,” she replied, her phone showing her dressed and sipping on a cup of tea. “I had to find out from Emily that Spencer is staying the week with you and the kids? How is this possible?”

“Pen—“

“Hold on.”

Suddenly, your screen revealed another person being added to the call. “Pen, why did you add Em— . . . Emily, hi.”

“What the hell is going on? [y/n]? Did you call me?” Emily hollered into her car speaker, focusing on the road ahead of her as she speaks.

“I did not call, Penelope called, I was ambushed,” you explained.

“No, no, you do not have Spencer spending the entire week at your house — for the first time, I might add — and not tell me,” Penelope interjected. “How are you? How are the kids? How did this happen? Are you two talking? Are you—“

“I told Penelope that Spencer requested the week off,” Emily said. “I thought you had already told her.”

“Yeah, Section Chief, how about some warning there? How did Spencer even get so much time off?” You rambled.

“Woah, woah,” Emily crowed. “Don’t shoot the messenger, he had more than enough vacation time saved up. He could’ve taken the entire month off and not lost a dime. There was nothing I could do. Plus, I thought, maybe . . .”

“Maybe. . .what?” You questioned.

“Maybe you and him had talked things out and . . .”

“Oh, my goodness,” Penelope exclaimed. “Are you guys back together?”

“No!” You shout. You sighed, “No . . . Spencer and I are not back together. He just . . . showed up. I called him to talk about E’s birthday party and he . . . well he says he’s staying until Sunday. Which is, perfect. Perfect in theory, if he actually stays. But he’s getting the kids’ hopes up and I hate that.”

“Yeah . . .” Emily snickered. “He’s getting the kids’ hopes up?”

“Emily Prentiss, do not profile me. Not you. I swear . . .”

Emily busted out laughing. “I mean, honey,” Penelope whispered. “I’m profiling you right now.”

“And with that, we must say goodbye,” you hummed happily as you pressed the button to hang up.

It was Wednesday. Wednesday. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday. So, five days with the man, at most. Then he goes back to DC, and those beautiful ninety miles are between you two again. Unless you do therapy, which you won’t, because it’s an awful idea and — you don’t want to think about Spencer Reid this much. You can’t. But you check the clock and it’s 7:45 and he needs to get the kids out the door soon. Should you call? You should call. Okay, call. No, text E.

Y: hey girlie!! 🥰 had to leave early this morning, is dad taking you to school?

E: hey mom 🥺 yeah dad’s taking us!! we’re getting breakfast right now from chick-fil-a and he’s letting me drive his car!!

Y: oh wow! don’t hit any cows out there!

E: ha ha ha so funny ur hilarious

Y: love you 💕 💗 ❤️

E: love you ✨✨

Okay. They’re up. They’re happy. That’s good. They’re smiles are going to get you through the week. They always do.

When you get home that afternoon, Spencer and the kids were laughing, playing cards against each other in the kitchen.

“I hope you guys aren’t gambling in here, because that’s more of a living room activity,” you laughed to announce your presence.

“Hey, [y/n],” Spencer greeted you. “Come play!”

“I’m good,” you nodded.

“See? I told you guys she won’t play against me. She never has and never will,” he told the kids. They giggled.

“Oh, please, you say that like I’m scared to play against you,” you snickered.

“Well? Are you?” He asked, a hint of arrogance in his voice.

“Absolutely not,” you set your things down on the counter and joined them at the table. “Continue your game, though, because I would be scared to play against the kids.”

Spencer gave you this look out of the corner of his eye, his iris looking at you under his eyelashes and a light smile on his face.

Maybe these next four days won’t be so bad.

They were more than not so bad. They weren’t bad at all. They were blissful and full of smiles and laughter and fun family dinners every night, and you’d never felt so productive. You cleared two major social work cases at the job, thanks to Spencer’s help with the kids. Friday night, you came home to the backyard fully decorated for tomorrow’s party. Spencer had recieved the chair delivery and set everything up behind the house, surrounded each table with a handful of chairs and the proper decorations sat in the center. You absorbed it all in complete and utter shock. You were prepared to spend all of tonight and tomorrow morning doing this. And Spencer took care of it all.

“What do you think?” Spencer grinned, him and E standing in the center of the backyard proudly. “Took us hours but it’s all set. Now we just need the food and the people.”

E chuckled, “What do ya’ think, mom?”

“I. . .” you whispered. “I think it looks gorgeous. You guys did amazing.”

“Thank you,” she pipped, grinning happily. “I think so, too. Oh, c’mon, dad, let me show you my party dress!”

As they rushed into the house, Spencer pinched onto your shoulder lightly, smirking as he passed you by. Your stomach filled with an unshakable and startling feeling. It had you rocking on your heels trying to process it and breathe through it.

Saturday morning, you woke up at 9 o’clock as planned. E would be up in another hour, so you had plenty of time to sort out the last few details of her party. The guest list was just above 80 people, and you had to make sure you had ordered enough food to feed them all. You had to check in with the caterer, the baker, Spencer.

You knocked on the door heavily, before wandering in, expecting him to be dead asleep. When you walked in and saw the bed empty and well made, you stopped in your tracks.

“What the hell?” You muttered, stomping over to the bed, and snatching up the note on the pillow.

My dearest [y/n]

Gone out to run some birthday errands. Kiss the birthday girl for me.

Spencer

Errands? What errands? Is he serious? You sighed, and pulled your phone from your back pocket. You dialed Spencer’s number and held the phone to your ear, only to be greeted with an immediate voicemail. You furrowed your eyebrows and huffed angrily.

You drafted and sent a text to him, desperately wishing you were more surprised by this:

Be back by 4 please.

No answer.

You carried on the day with one mission: keep things under control and keep E’s mind off of Spencer. You let her stay cornered in her room, bringing her breakfast and an iced coffee, and kissing her on the top of her head.

“I can’t believe 16 years ago today, I was laid up in a hospital bed, screaming my head off, cursing at the nurses, when this tiny, slimy thing just . . . popped out of me.”

“Most people just say happy birthday,” Eden cringed.

“Happy birthday, babe,” you giggled. “You have no idea what you’ve done for me just by existing.”

“That’s more like it,” she nodded happily. “Thank you. Is dad here?”

“Uh, no,” you said quickly, prepared for the question. “He went to take care of some stuff for the party, he’ll be back before the party starts, though. Will Francesca be coming over today?”

“Oh. Okay. Uh, yeah. She’s coming to do my makeup.”

“Awesome,” you smiled, standing up. “Well, birthday girl, you get glitzy and glammy, and get ready for the party of a lifetime.”

“Mom . . . is everything okay?”

“Yeah, of course. Stop that, don’t worry about anything today, okay? Things are fine.”

“Okay,” she nodded. She trusted you. For 16 years, since the minute she was born, she’s trusted you. “Okay.”

Eden’s godmother was the first to show up. Penelope Garcia live and in the flesh. She barged into the house the moment you opened the door to greet her, and she rushed up the stairs.

“Pen, she is getting ready—“

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I understand the importance of a teenage girls appearance, but I haven’t seen either of the kids in so long.”

“It’s been a month, Pen.”

“Way too long . . . Penelope!” She called out for Eden.

E perked her head up in her room, stopping her best friend, Francesca, from doing her eye makeup. “Auntie P?” She murmured and turned to the door.

Penelope opened the bedroom door joyfully, smiling ear to ear when she saw E. “Little Penelope!” She shouted, excitedly clapping her hands.

E hopped up from her seat and ran over to Penelope, practically jumping into her arms.

“Oh, happy birthday, babygirl!” Penelope cooed. “I can’t believe how big you are!”

“Thank you,” E smiled, her face tucked into Penelope’s shoulder.

You watched them, close to tears yourself to see them together. There were 5 people in the room when Eden Penelope Reid was born 16 years old ago. The doctor, 2 nurses, you — of course — and Penelope Garcia. It was the scariest thing you’d ever been through. And at your side, for 10 hours of labor, was Penelope. She held your hand, spoke softly to distract you from the pain, and encouraged you as you went through delivery. When Eden came into the world, it was no question what her middle name would be.

Penelope helped E prepare as you kept the business rolling in. Food, lights, cutlery, plates. You were rushing and running for hours. You barely just had time to shower and get yourself ready, let alone make sure Em put on the outfit you picked out for him. Luckily, Penelope got him dressed and sat with a good book so you could get yourself together.

The clock struck 4 in the afternoon, signaled by an alarm on your phone, and you had just stepped out of the bathroom. You slipped on a floral dress, befitting of a mother on a special day. Hair in place, dress without wrinkles, shoes to match, guests rolling in, and . . . oh yeah, still no Spencer. Countless calls and texts to him went unanswered, and you were running out of excuses to tell the kids.

When your last and final call to him went straight to voicemail, you left a message.

“Spencer, I don’t know where you are, and I want you to know that, right now, I don’t care. It’s a quarter after 4, and people are showing up, and the show must go on, so . . . show up, don’t show up. Keep us on our toes, it doesn’t matter. I hope you’re okay. Bye.”

Dropping you phone on your bed, you gave it one more glance as you left the room.

Music rang throughout the backyard, packed with people by the time it was 5:30. Eden brought the whole BAU together — visited by Penelope, Emily, Matt, Tara, Derek, Hotch, and Luke who brought his and Penny’s baby boy along.

E was in heaven, reunited with some of her closest cousins. It was turning into a good day, without Spencer. But there was a hole caused by his absence that no one could fill. And you know this because you’ve been trying to fill it all of Eden’s life.

While your little girl is quite the social butterfly, sometimes that social battery of hers can wear low. Particularly when she’s overwhelmed by attention, or stress, or her own genius thoughts.

Luckily, she gets that from you, and you two have a tendency to find similar places to hide. She found you sitting on the back patio, hidden in the corner. “Hey, pretty girl!” you smiled. “Having fun?”

“Yeah,” she giggled. “You?”

“Eh, it’s an alright party,” you joked.

“So . . . do you know where dad is?”

You released a long exhale and hesitated for a good, long few seconds. “No.”

She nodded, “Cool. That’s cool.”

“E—“

“Penelope, come here!” Penelope suddenly screamed from the front door.

“Coming!” E called back. “I have to attend to my guests, excuse me.” She giggled, and you smiled at her as she walked away.

You relaxed back against the wall of the house, watching your friends and family rejoice in the backyard. Over the music, you heard the curling sound of a scream. Eden’s scream. And you ran like you’ve never ran in your life.

“Oh, my God,” she cried. “Oh, my God!”

You were confused and a bit scared and very eager to see what had her so overwhelmed. And when you rounded the corner, coming face to face with the front door, you gasped, stopping on your tippy toes like you were knocked in the face by an invisible force.

“Ah! Piccolo genio! Happy birthday!” Rossi said to your daughter as he held her in a tight hug. He pulled away to hold her face in his hands lovingly. “It is incredible to see the person you have become. Goodness! You know who you look just like?” He questioned.

Rossi spun on his heels, facing himself in your direction with open arms. “Her,” he said. “You look just like her.” He stepped towards you slowly, “My goodness, someone would think it was your sweet sixteen we’re celebrating.”

You laughed and shook your head, blinking away the tears of joy in your eyes. “Flattery is not gonna make me forget that a certain someone doesn’t know how to visit more often.”

“Italy to Virginia is a long flight, my dear,” he pulled you into a tight hug. A secure hug. Full of safety and love and memories. “But I will have to make it more.”

You burrowed yourself into his chest, smiling to yourself at the sound of his voice.

“[y/n],” he whispered. “How are you?”

You did nothing but let out a long, long, long sigh.

“We’ll talk,” he nodded.

“Now,” he pulled away from the hug to hold you against his side. “Since I am here, the party may now . . . begin.”

As everyone followed Eden and Rossi through the house, you were left in the entrance with Spencer, who was eyeing you shyly with his hands in his pockets.

“Got caught up at the airport,” he explained.

You gave him the teeniest, tiniest half smile, and let out a faint laugh, “C’mon, Spencer.”

Later that night, when it was just you, Spencer, and the rest of the BAU veterans, he offered to help you clean up. You stood in front of the sink, scrubbing at a dirty pan as music played softly in the background.

“[y/n]?” Spencer whispered to you as he placed leftovers in the fridge. “What’s on your mind?”

You shook your head, and turned briefly to give him a solemn smile, “I never had a sixteenth birthday party,” you told him, returning your attention to the dishes. “Did you?”

He chuckled to himself, “No,” he said. “I had a psychology exam the day of my sixteenth birthday. I took it and then read for the rest of the night.”

“I had a trigonometry exam on my sixteenth birthday,” you shrugged.

“Oh, yeah? How’d you do?” he chuckled.

You rolled your eyes at him, “I did alright . . . then I went back to my charity dorm on MIT’s campus, and had some microwaved pasta.”

Spencer let out a soft sigh, and stepped over to you, “Life of a child prodigy, right?”

“But not for E. Not for Em. All I ever wanted was for them to be extraordinary, and live an ordinary life. High IQ, be damned, it’s what they deserve.” You rambled. After a few minutes of silence, you glanced at Spencer, who was eyeing you sympathetically. “Don’t profile me, Spencer Reid, we’ve talked about this.”

“I’m not profiling you!” He laughed.

“You are,” you said.

“I am not. If anything, you’re profiling me right now.”

“Profiling you profiling me?”

“Exactly—what? No!” he said through constant laughter.

You smirked at him, hiding a smile behind the expression. “I don’t need to profile you, Spencer. I know you.”

“I—“

“I know you.” You enunciated. “I know you.”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “You do.”

You knew you had to tear yourself away from those big brown eyes as soon as possible, or risk major emotional turmoil. So, you focused on the dishes as you spoke, “I’ve been thinking . . . maybe therapy . . . wouldn’t be so bad.”

Spencer’s eyes went wide, “Really?”

“Really, it’s about twenty years too late, but . . .” You nodded. “I guess a part of that whole ordinary lives thing for the kids is having parents that actually get along, so . . . I’ll try it.”

“Thank you, [y/n], thank you so much,” he said. “I already made us an appointment here in Charlottesville for next Friday.”

You scoffed. You should’ve been mad, annoyed. But all you could think was: yeah, I definitely married a scorpio.

“Fi—“ you mumbled, in the midst of rolling your eyes when a gust of movement caught your attention. Outside of the kitchen window, to the side of the house, was E. E and some boy. A handsome boy. You couldn’t tell if he looked familiar. Well. Yeah, he kinda did.

“[y/n]?” Spencer called to you, when he suddenly noticed Eden. “Do . . . do you know him? [y/n]?”

You watched as the kid handed E a birthday gift and placed a kiss to her cheek. She blushed softly and looked down. No. No, you didn’t know him. She hadn’t told you about him.

Another part of the whole ordinary life thing. A part that you had completely forgotten about.

Boys.

TAGLIST:

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[heartofether]

Episode 15 - Elderberries TRANSCRIPT

[You can listen to the show wherever you get your podcasts, or go to our “Listen” page if you’re on desktop.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

[LOWER-PITCHED AND SLOWER THAN NORMAL] Please state your message.

[THEME SONG PLAYS.]

VAL

Three-eyed Frog Presents: The Heart of Ether.

[THEME SONG FADES TO A STOP.]

[PHONE BEEP.]

[INT. THE POPPY GARDEN MOTEL, AGENT MAY AND JUNES’ ROOM, EARLY MORNING.]

AGENT JUNE

Oh, is it on? I dunno how this recording device works. Would have been, like, ten times easier to just record on our phones, but, eh.

Anyways, it’s just me right now, which means I get to do all the talking. Guess I should, I dunno, talk about the mission? Daughtler?

Oh! I know. There’s this candy store downtown that displays massive gummy bears in the window, only it’s so hot outside that the bears have started melting. It’s some mix of disturbing, but also hilarious? Seriously, those bears look so sad, I can’t help but laugh.

Let’s see. Say, what’s that stupid thing he always says? [DRAMATICALLY MOCKING AGENT MAY] This is Operation Saturn, phase 1.2. Conducted by Agents May and June. All recordings are property of the—

[AS AGENT JUNE TALKS, THE DOOR IS HEARD OPENING AND CLOSING. THERE ARE FOOTSTEPS AS AGENT MAY WALKS IN.]

AGENT MAY

Here’s your coffee.

AGENT JUNE

Much obliged! Oh, you got it with oat milk, right?

AGENT MAY

[SLIGHTLY BITTER] It cost extra, but yes.

AGENT JUNE

Aw, hell yeah.

[AGENT JUNE TAKES HIS DRINK.]

AGENT MAY

I’ve never understood the excitement behind alternative milks.

AGENT JUNE

Hey, I’m lactose intolerant. Not that that would stop me from consuming dairy in most scenarios, but oat milk hits, alright? You should give it a shot.

AGENT MAY

I don’t put milk in my coffee, just sugar.

AGENT JUNE

Mm. Gross.

AGENT MAY

[HE HUFFS A SIGH.] Well, I’ll stop judging your coffee order if you stop judging mine.

AGENT JUNE

I’ll agree to that, sure.

[HE TAKES A SIP, THEN] See anything of note in the coffeeshop?

AGENT MAY

[UNCOMFORTABLY] Maybe. There was this girl sitting at a table. She was wearing all-black, which is strange considering the weather.

AGENT JUNE

Uh, ever heard of fashion? Dude, you literally wear a suit every day! No wonder you overheat. I mean, why do you think I skip the blazer?

AGENT MAY

[IRRITATED] At least I wear my tie correctly.

AGENT JUNE

I leave it undone on purpose, alright? It’s a statement.

AGENT MAY

Do you know how to tie a tie?

AGENT JUNE

[DEFENSIVE] Yes!

[AN UNCOMFORTABLY LONG PAUSE.]

AGENT JUNE

So, there was this girl in the coffeeshop.

AGENT MAY

She seemed fairly young. Must have been in either high school or college. She was staring at me over her laptop the whole time. Like she was, I don’t know, stalking prey. It was like her eyes were knives, and she was trying to carve my flesh off.

AGENT JUNE

So, she defo wasn’t just idly looking or whatever. Like, you’re pretty sure she was thinking about killing you?

AGENT MAY

Well, there’s no way I can know for certain, now, is there?

[A BEAT.] She was wearing a black fabric surgical mask, though.

[A TENSE PAUSE.]

AGENT JUNE

Do you think she was—?

AGENT MAY

I can’t say for sure.

AGENT JUNE

I mean, it might have been an accessory, but we’re in Daughtler, Washington—

AGENT MAY

I’m not going back there to check. Okay? If we see her again, maybe we can consider interviewing her, but I don’t feel comfortable going back to see her.

AGENT JUNE

[UNDERSTANDING] Alright.

[AGENT MAY SIGHS.]

AGENT JUNE

[CONT.] Alright. I won’t force you.

AGENT MAY

I—I appreciate that.

[THERE'S A PAUSE.]

AGENT JUNE

Uh, how’d you sleep?

AGENT MAY

About as well as I could in a car seat.

AGENT JUNE

Okay, I can’t just keep letting you sleep in the car. It was kind of funny at first, but now I just— [HIS SENTENCE TRAILS OFF IN VAGUE STUTTERS.]

AGENT MAY

[BEAT.] Well?

AGENT JUNE

I feel bad! Alright? I mean, look at me, I have this whole room to myself, and meanwhile, my partner is sleeping in a company vehicle that may or may not have bloodstains in the backseat.

[BEAT, THEN] Actually, I’d love to talk about those weird dark stains later, because uh, what, but I’ll let it slide for now. It’s still gotta be super uncomfortable, though.

AGENT MAY

We could always take turns.

AGENT JUNE

No, what I’m saying is I don’t think either of us have to sleep in the car! There has got to be a better solution.

AGENT MAY

The Foundation already declined giving us a second room, or trying to transfer us to a larger one. Trust me, I tried.

AGENT JUNE

Dammit.

[A LONG PAUSE.]

AGENT JUNE

It's king-sized, you know.

[ANOTHER LONG PAUSE.]

AGENT MAY

Do you think the motel has spare blankets? I think I could try sleeping on the floor.

[THOUGH UNSEEN, AGENT JUNE LOOKS INTO THE CAMERA LIKE HE’S IN THE OFFICE.]

AGENT MAY

…I’ll go down and ask later.

AGENT JUNE

Good idea.

[A BEAT. THERE'S SUIT RUSTLING AS AGENT MAY CHECKS HIS WATCH.]

AGENT MAY

We should head out soon.

AGENT JUNE

You’re really glued to that watch of yours, huh?

AGENT MAY

Excuse me?

AGENT JUNE

Not that it’s bad, you just check it a lot. I don’t really know what watch etiquette is, but I think you look at it more than most people do. I’ve also noticed you tend to look at it more around specific times? Is there a reason, or—?

AGENT MAY

[MORE SERIOUS THAN THE CONVERSATION WARRANTS] It’s none of your business. Perhaps I simply prefer to keep on schedule. Let’s go.

AGENT JUNE

[SLIGHTLY CONFUSED] Oh, um, okay. Sorry. [UNDER HIS BREATH] Jeez. Let me just—

[PHONE BEEP.]

[RECORDING ENDS.]

[ANOTHER BEEP.]

[INT. THE OPEN EYES BOOKSTORE BACKROOM, EARLY, EARLY MORNING.]

HOLLY

Are you recording?

PHOEBE

Yes, yes, I am.

HOLLY

Kind of weird to be doing this so early in the morning.

PHOEBE

I’m sorry, I know it’s super early. Night just felt…well, it felt more dangerous, I guess? Even Grandma Doe recommended not doing it too late. I wanted to get it done before the shop opened, though.

HOLLY

Oh no, I don’t mind. I guess people usually just consider night to be “the witching hour.”

PHOEBE

This isn’t really witchcraft, though, is it?

HOLLY

Guess not. Most modern witchcraft is a lot more…chill, I guess?

PHOEBE

Right. [A BEAT.] Do you think it’s really a good idea to be doing this in the back room?

HOLLY

Well, it’s not like we have anywhere else. It’d be super shady if we did it right outside, and your forestry friend would be pissed if we went out into the woods to do it.

PHOEBE

[NERVOUS] There’s so much paper, though. I mean, we could easily set the whole thing alight. My apartment’s really small, I know, but maybe we could—?

HOLLY

Don’t worry about it. We did a pretty good job clearing stuff out to make space, I think. It should be fine, I mean, a lot of the most flammable stuff either got moved out or shoved against the wall.

Besides, didn’t she say that it might be good to do it here for like, symbolic purposes?

PHOEBE

Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right. [SHE CHUCKLES.] Maybe this will finally give me incentive to organize everything.

HOLLY

[SHE LAUGHS, SOMEWHAT NERVOUSLY.] If this works, then hopefully you’ll be able to do that anyways.

PHOEBE

That’s true, yes. I, um, guess we should get started. Can you read the directions?

HOLLY

Of course.

[HOLLY IS HEARD UNFOLDING A PIECE OF PAPER.]

HOLLY

[READING] The purpose of all of this is energy. You are lighting fire to produce energy. You are grinding berries and eating them to produce it as well. Ether functions under this key desire for vitality. If you can understand this simple principle, this keen need it has, it will treat you much more kindly.

By designing this ritual for you, my hope is that it will spell out as clear as day to Ether what you are trying to achieve. It rarely gives people what they want, rather it gives what it sees fit for them. You must steer it in the correct direction, or else it will choose a different fate for you.

These instructions are similar to what Valencia and I did, as well as symbolic for what you hope to achieve. However, nobody has ever developed an exact science for how these rituals function. We may only rely on guesswork and hope. While I would like to develop more specific procedures and instructions, I do not know if I ever will. Perhaps that could be your task.

[BREAKING READING] Could I skip her whole monologue? We already read it, and I don’t think it’s important in-the-moment.

PHOEBE

Sure.

HOLLY

Cool.

[SHE FLIPS THE PAPER.]

HOLLY

Materials needed: Yarn or string to create a casting circle. Some people use salt, but it produces an awful mess. Several circles of yarn around you and your workspace will work just fine.

PHOEBE

We did that already.

HOLLY

Yup. [READING AGAIN] Three white candles with words carved into them. It does not matter what the words are, they simply have to be legible and completely cover the candle. No numbers. I just wrote out song lyrics on that one.

PHOEBE

Oh, that’s neat! I, um, did poems I like.

HOLLY

Cute. [A BEAT.] A lighter or match of some kind. Someplace to safely burn paper—we got a metal bin, so we’re good. Did you turn off the smoke alarm?

PHOEBE

I did, yeah.

HOLLY

Let’s hope the place doesn’t burn down, then. [CHUCKLE, THEN] I’m joking, I promise. It should be fine. [SHE CLEARS HER THROAT.]

A book—you will be tearing out each individual page, so to save time, I suggest a children’s book. A bowl or container of some kind. Elderberries, I recommend you cook them beforehand, but make sure none of them are pre-mashed. Something to mash the elderberries with. Finally, a few drops of your blood, or something to draw blood with. That’s what the sewing needle is for, right? You sure you don’t want a blade? I have a pocket knife.

PHOEBE

[UNCOMFORTABLE] I get nervous around knives, but thank you for the offer.

Oh—actually, I wanted to ask, um, where did you find elderberries? I couldn’t find them anywhere.

HOLLY

I asked the bartender down the street.

PHOEBE

Huh.

HOLLY

Yeah, they make all sorts of weird cocktails. Are you ready? Once we start, we can’t stop until it’s complete.

PHOEBE

[WITH WEIGHT, NERVOUS, BUT DETERMINED] I’m ready.

HOLLY

Okay.

[HOLLY FLIPS THE PAPER AGAIN. THERE’S A PAUSE.]

HOLLY

Phoebe?

PHOEBE

Yeah?

HOLLY

Whatever happens, I—we’ll be okay, alright? No matter what. I’ll make sure of it, I swear.

PHOEBE

[TENDERLY] Thank you.

[THERE’S A PAUSE AS THEY ARE HEARD KISSING. HOLLY TAKES A DEEP BREATH.]

HOLLY

Create a circle around— Okay, we already did that. Um, Start by lighting the candles.

[PHOEBE IS HEARD LIGHTING A MATCH AND LIGHTING ALL THREE CANDLES.]

HOLLY

Tear each individual piece of paper out of the book. One by one, burn each piece of paper using fire from the candles. Once you have burned each page, burn the cover. Do not attempt to put any of the fires out. This tedious process shows care and dedication. The blood in later steps is there for a similar purpose.

[PHOEBE IS HEARD TEARING PAGES OUT OF A CHILDREN’S BOOK AND LIGHTING THEM ON FIRE. THERE’S A LONG PAUSE AS SHE DOES SO.]

PHOEBE

Good thing this book only has twenty pages. [A BEAT.] What’s next?

[PHOEBE IS STILL TEARING PAPER IN THE BACKGROUND, AND THE BURNING SFX GOES ON FOR SOME TIME.]

HOLLY

Uh—place your elderberries in the bowl and begin mashing them in a clockwise motion. As you do this, speak out loud and ask Ether to grant you knowledge and the ability to see what others do not. There should be no misunderstanding in what you are trying to achieve, and if you have garnered Ether’s attention, it should have already decided what it shall do with you. [MUTTERS] Fuckin’ weird.

[PHOEBE CEASES HER PAGE-TEARING.]

PHOEBE

The book is done. Pass me the spice grinder with the berries?

[HOLLY PASSES PHOEBE THE SPICE GRINDER.]

PHOEBE

Thank you.

[PHOEBE IS HEARD GRINDING THE ELDERBERRIES.]

PHOEBE

[WHISPERING TO HERSELF] Ether, um, whoever or whatever you are, if you are listening to me, please grant me knowledge. Grant me the power to see what others do not. Let me see and know everything.

[THERE IS A RINGING HEARD IN THE BACKGROUND AS HOLLY SPEAKS.]

HOLLY

If this works, the words on the candle should begin to—holy—God!

[HOLLY STUMBLES BACK.]

PHOEBE

Glow?

HOLLY

[FREAKING OUT] Yup? Uh—they’re actually glowing, what the—

PHOEBE

[OVERLAPPING] What’s next?

HOLLY

Sorry, sorry. [SHE RUFFLES THE PAPER IN HER HAND.] Mix a few drops of your blood into the elderberries.

PHOEBE

Pass me the sewing needle.

[HOLLY PASSES PHOEBE THE NEEDLE. SHE PRICKS HER FINGER.]

PHOEBE

[UNDER HER BREATH] Ow.

[SHE LETS A FEW DROPS COME OUT, SUCKS ON HER FINGER BRIEFLY, THEN MIXES HER BLOOD IN.]

HOLLY

Drink the elderberry mash. You must consume every bit of it, or at least as much as you can.

PHOEBE

[GROWING IN A MIX OF PANIC AND EXCITEMENT] This is it—I mean—wait, I’m about to consume my blood, that’s weird, but—this is really it.

HOLLY

[ENCOURAGING] You can do it.

[PHOEBE IS HEARD DRINKING THE ELDERBERRY MASH. THERE IS A PAUSE.]

HOLLY

If successful, the candles will—

[THE CANDLES ARE HEARD EXTINGUISHING.]

HOLLY

…blow out.

PHOEBE

[SLIGHTLY SICK] I think I got it all.

HOLLY

How do you feel? Is—has anything changed?

PHOEBE

I feel…I feel like there’s a part of me that was never there before. Like, my internal self expands farther out than my physical self, like I’m floating, it’s—I need to go lie down.

HOLLY

I’ll take you upstairs. It worked, though?

PHOEBE

I think it did. I mean, Grandma Doe said I would feel some sort of immediate change, but the rest of it would trickle in slowly. I feel different, though.

HOLLY

[SLOWLY, CAUTIOUS] Does this mean you’re not human anymore?

PHOEBE

[A BEAT.] I haven’t thought about that. I mean, I think I might just kind of be human plus? I’m not sure. Grandma Doe was still mortal, after all—she felt pain, she got ill—her mind was just super advanced. Does that make me inhuman?

HOLLY

I…I don’t think so. I think you just have mind powers or whatever.

PHOEBE

I’ll think about it later. I’m just going to try to get some sleep before the shop opens.

HOLLY

You don’t even have to open today, you know. People will understand if you just say you’re ill. Or I could run it for today, since there’s usually less traction on weekdays.

PHOEBE

[SINCERE] Thank you.

HOLLY

Of course.

PHOEBE

[SHE SIGHS.] Okay, time to—

[PHONE BEEP.]

[RECORDING ENDS.]

[ANOTHER PHONE BEEP.]

[INT. IRENE’S HOUSE, MIDDAY.]

IRENE

I just got home from work. Apparently, Phoebe did that ritual early this morning. It went well, from what Holly told me, though Phoebe’s been taking the day off to rest.

Oh, and they also posted that advert on the bulletin board yesterday. You know, for someone to develop Valencia’s film.

That’s not important right now. You know what is important?

This morning, at work, I opened up a folder on my computer and guess what was in it? A new audio recording where there shouldn’t be one. Guess the technological gods have decided to be generous today.

I decided to wait until I got off to listen to it. It’s dated shortly after the incident, so I think it might be important.

Besides, work has been…well, different, since the Spread. I haven’t told Carol or Aden that’s what it’s called, though. The whole incident brought us closer together, but I think that’s a double-edged sword. They know me well enough, now, I think they can tell I’m hiding something. Aden definitely knows I am—I mean, what I told him was pretty cryptic, but Carol I think just…knows. She’s just like that. [SCOFF] Maybe that’s part of her motherly instincts.

Right, that’s beside the point. Back to the recording.

Here goes nothing.

[IRENE CLICKS ON THE FILE.]

[PHONE BEEP.]

[INT. DRIVING, LATE AT NIGHT.]

[THERE IS THE AMBIANCE OF DRIVING DOWN A DESOLATE FOREST ROAD AS THEY TALK.]

UNKNOWN GIRL

Does it work?

ROSE

I believe so.

UNKNOWN GIRL

[SHE SNORTS.] About as well as a cheap cell phone from Walmart could, I imagine?

ROSE

It just has to be able to record and make emergency calls. I’m not too worried about it. Thank you, again. Really, I owe you.

UNKNOWN GIRL

Hey, I didn’t buy it. I just walked into the store and handed your money to the guy behind the counter. It’s not a big deal.

[DULLY SKEPTICAL] You’re trying pretty hard to cover up your tracks, you know. Destroying your phone, not wanting to be seen in public to go get a new one, only paying in cash. Almost makes it sound like you’re a criminal or something.

ROSE

[FRANTIC] I’m not! I swear, I’m not.

UNKNOWN GIRL

No need to get defensive. Look, I get it. We all have reasons to want to disappear. I’m surely in no position to judge.

You know, I know we haven’t known each other for long, but I feel like we might actually have a lot in common.

ROSE

Why is that?

UNKNOWN GIRL

We both don’t know where we’re going, or why.

ROSE

[UNDER HER BREATH] Oh, I know why.

UNKNOWN GIRL

So you do have a reason?

ROSE

It’s not a big deal.

UNKNOWN GIRL

Your secret’s safe with me, you know.

ROSE

It’s nothing. Really. Just…do you have to know or—?

UNKNOWN GIRL

Well, do I have any reason to?

ROSE

No, but do you even have a reason to be helping me?

UNKNOWN GIRL

[DEADPAN] What can I say? I’m a generous soul.

[A BEAT.] Say, why did you want something to record with, anyways?

ROSE

I, um—it’s stupid.

UNKNOWN GIRL

Try me.

ROSE

It’s—well. I guess I don’t want to be forgotten? I want some way for people to find out what happened to me when…if…you know. There’s…if something does happen to me, there’s at least one person who deserves to know.

UNKNOWN GIRL

You think you’re going to get yourself killed?

ROSE

I don’t know. I suppose it’s better to be safe than sorry?

UNKNOWN GIRL

But you have someone you know will want to listen. [CONNECTING THE DOTS] You weren’t a loner before you left, were you? You left someone important behind, and now you feel bad. You owe them an explanation.

ROSE

[UNCOMFORTABLY] Yes. Right. I guess.

[A BEAT.] I don’t want to talk about this anymore.

UNKNOWN GIRL

Who did you abandon?

ROSE

[RAISING HER VOICE SLIGHTLY] I said I’m done.

UNKNOWN GIRL

Alright, alright.

[A BEAT.] If it makes you feel better, I’ll let you prod at me a bit.

ROSE

[HESITANT] Where did you get your name? Wednesday is such a unique name, I don’t think I’ve ever heard it outside of stories.

WEDNESDAY [UNKNOWN GIRL]

It’s certainly no ‘Mary,’ is it?

ROSE

I mean, obviously. My name’s pretty basic.

WEDNESDAY

I actually chose it after I left home. Not like that, just never liked the name my parents gave me. Kept the last name ‘White,’ though. It has a ring to it.

ROSE

Was there a reason for it, or did it just sound nice?

WEDNESDAY

When people meet someone with a weird name, that tends to be the thing that most grabs their attention. “I met a girl named after a day of the week today, isn’t that bizarre?” I didn’t want to be remembered for anything I didn’t want people to see. If one thing was going to stick with them, it would be my name, but not quite the face that goes with it. Just the girl with an odd name.

ROSE

So you want to be forgotten?

WEDNESDAY

Not forgotten, but I want control over the memory of me. I want to fade away into obscurity, but not obscure enough that it’s suspicious.

ROSE

[KIND OF UNCOMFORTABLE] You’ve thought about this a lot.

WEDNESDAY

When you’re like me, you have to.

ROSE

Wh—what does that—

WEDNESDAY

[OVERLAPPING] Do you need me to stop at the gas station up ahead?

[THERE’S A SLIGHTLY TOO LONG PAUSE.]

ROSE

Um, yeah, I have to—

[PHONE BEEP.]

[RECORDING ENDS.]

[INT. IRENE’S HOUSE, EARLY EVENING, THE SAME DAY.]

[THERE’S A LONG PAUSE.]

IRENE

[STILL PROCESSING IT AS SHE SPEAKS.] Okay. Okay! This is definitely a start. A great start, actually!

Okay, let’s see, uh—after you ran away, you destroyed your phone—no wonder the police couldn’t track it—and then you went with some person named Wednesday.

That’s definitely a start. If I can figure out where Wednesday—White, was it?—yeah, Wednesday White. I know Wednesday probably isn’t her legal name, but I might still be able to find her somewhere. If I can find Wednesday White, I might have a good shot at finding you. That’s great news!

[A SLIGHTLY TOO LONG PAUSE.]

IRENE

[HER ENTHUSIASM DYING] I don’t trust Wednesday, though.

[A BEAT.] Okay, maybe I shouldn’t be so skeptical. I mean, you’re not an idiot, Rose. You wouldn’t hitch hike with just any random stranger. Would you? Doesn’t even seem like you gave her your real name, she called you ‘Mary.’

[SHE HUFFS A SIGH.] Maybe I’m just being defensive. Still, she seemed off, didn’t she? That whole thing she said about her name just kind of rubbed me the wrong way. She prodded a lot, too. Almost as if she wanted to make you uncomfortable.

I could be reading into it too much. I guess I won’t know until I find her. Hopefully, she didn’t fade into obscurity too much. There’s gotta be some record of her existence online. If I’m lucky, she might be on social media or something. Who knows? Lots of time has passed.

[A PAUSE, THEN, SOFTLY] That person, you—were you recording for me? You wanted me to know you hadn’t abandoned me on purpose. [HURT] And here I was, thinking you would just leave without reason. That you had betrayed me in some way. I’m—Rose, I’m so sorry—

[JUST AS SHE SAYS “SORRY,” HER PHONE BEGINS VIBRATING. SHE PICKS IT UP.]

IRENE

[SKEPTICAL] There’s an unknown number calling me.

[SHE ANSWERS.]

IRENE

Hello?

CALLER

Hello? Is this the person who posted an ad outside of Open Eyes Bookstore?

IRENE

Oh! Um, yeah, that’s me. Wow, I didn’t expect to hear from someone so fast.

CALLER

I’m an observant person. I like to make my rounds throughout the town. You’ll never know what you’ll find, after all. Or who.

Anyways, you have some film that needs to be developed, right? Well, it just so happens to be your lucky day, because I have a dark room.

IRENE

That’s fantastic. I can pay you however much you want, just—

CALLER

[OVERLAPPING] Oh, that won’t be necessary. I’m studying photography, so the experience is payment enough. No worries!

IRENE

That’s very kind of you, thank you.

CALLER

Of course!

Oh, where are my manners? My name is Sadie. Sadie Creed. And you are…?

IRENE

Irene.

SADIE

Irene! How cute. Where do you want me to pick up your film?

IRENE

Um, I’m sorry if this sounds rude, but I would prefer to meet out in the open? Is that a problem?

SADIE

Not at all. How about Lemongrass Park?

IRENE

That’s actually perfect, yeah.

SADIE

Great! I’m happy to meet you tomorrow night at 8:00, if that time works for you? I know that’s a bit late, but I work at the candy shop until then.

IRENE

That should be fine, yeah.

SADIE

Looking forward to it! Pleasure doing business with you, Irene. Bye-bye!

[SADIE HANGS UP.]

IRENE

Huh. Well, I guess that solves that.

Time to go find Wednesday White.

[PHONE BEEP.]

[RECORDING ENDS.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

Today's quote is: A wave of grass engraves upon the stone: ‘There is more than one good way to drown.’

Sylvia Plath in "Epitaph in Three Parts," 1955.

[OUTRO MUSIC AND CREDITS PLAY.]

MICRO-COSMOS PROMOTIONAL AD [written by Jesse Smith]

[THERE ARE STATIC NOISES.]

ATHENA

This is Communications Athena Romero of OEC #0137-F recording from a… still, unknown location on the infant planet Ophiuchus-22. Though I have my… well, rational, doubts, something in me feels as though this transmission might actually be reaching someone. Might just be desperation, though. Most likely just desperation. Regardless. We would appreciate any and all OC representatives or employees, or individuals otherwise receiving this transmission, to please send a response. We have been recording mandatory and otherwise necessary emergency chronicling logs for days now. Please.

[WE HEAR MILES'S FOOTSTEPS APPROACH.]

MILES

(distant) Athena, are you sending out another transmission? They’re not going to-

[C41 APPEARS WITH THEIR USUAL PING.]

C41

Shhh, let her do her thing, Miles. She needs to set her character up correctly for the new listeners that are hearing this promotional advertisement.

MILES

The new— what?

C41

What?

MILES

What are you talking about?

FELIX

I believe what Cal is doing is called “breaking the fourth wall,” my friend.

MILES

Breaking the what now?

C41

Oh, just forget about it.

[MILES GROANS; WE HEAR ALEX APPROACH.]

ALEX

What about a promotional advertisement?

ATHENA

Guys, could you… [SIGHS] I am trying to finish this log, so could you please give me a moment?

ALEX

Sorry, Starshine, I just got a little caught up in the whole “self-aware and breaking the fourth wall” thing.

ATHENA

It’s… fine.

C41

If I were you, Athena, I would close your log out by telling the listener to tune in to Micro-Cosmos: A Science Fiction Podcast, wherever you get your podcasts! The show is created by a crew of LGBTQ+ people, and features strange infant planets, brief romantic scenes before epic tragedy, cool sci-fi terminology, and adorably talented AI units, like myself!

ATHENA

Micro-?

C41

More information on the show can be found on its website: “microcospod.space”, OR its Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, or TikTok, which all have the handle “@microcospod.”

MILES

… uh huh.

[THE CREW SITS IN SILENCE FOR A SECOND.]

C41

That’s just what I would say, though.

MILES

… Cal, we really need to figure out what is going on with this new phase of yours.

[chemicallady]

Matching

Greg Sanders x Reader!

A/N: Hi everyone! Have you ever noticed that there are not enough Greg Sanders fanfiction in the world? I have looked for some for a while, but nothing. Now, stop complaining and let's have fun togheter, this is my first Greg Sanders x Reader! I hope you will like it! Besos! 

 Couple: Greg Sanders/Female!Reader 

Category: Fluff 

Content Warning: // 

 Summary:  this is the first time Greg tries to find love with an app. Who knows whohe  is gonna meet with a cyber matching?

  ***

Las Vegas, October 5th 2015 

The last month was rough for him. Many things had changed forever. Nick had resigned from the team, Sarah decided to take a break after a big promotion in order to restore her relationship with Grissom, Catherine is back to her position as the leader of the night shift. 

Russell is moving on with his life and Finn is gone. Forever. No matter how much his tried to save her life or they prayed for her, she is gone. 

Greg is not confortable with big changes. For the first time in forever he is feeling like he is flooting. Dr Robbins said that is normal, in a moment like this one, in which he has escaped the death again, to feel this way.

«Maybe you need a fresh new start.»

Everyone is starting something, whatever. Nick is a boss now, Sarah is happy with her ex husband and former director of the lab. Even Hodges is living the moment, with a new girlfriend. 

«He met her on a website», Henry said to Greg during a coffee break. 

He laughted, then he used this information against Hodges. 

«It isnt a website... I am not dating a russian wife!»

Greg smirked, «No more girls interested in your Visa after the italian one?»

«Shut the fuck up, Sanders. Nowdays is normal using dating app. You should try and stop wasting my time!»

****

He didnt download Tinder only because Hodges suggested it. 

Of course.

He decided to try the app only to dimostrate that is a poor life choice. 

But the amounth of time he have spent in looking at girls profiles is already too much to look credible. Furthermore, Lindsay have noticed him swapping girls away and she giggled amused. «You should try to go on a date. Dont tell my mom, but I met a guy once, on Tinder. He was really awsome, but he was a tourist. An advice, always take a loool if she is a resident!»

And he followed her suggestion, making the opposite. Just to have some fun. 

There are many people who only are in Vegas for having fun and even if was cool, meeting girls who only want a one night stand, after three or four date started to make him feel bored. 

He always talk a little about is job, fake interesting in the girl’s plan for her vacation and everything ending in the morning. 

So he decided to try something else. 

A serious date, for once. 

***

He is exploring your profile since the moment you two matched. He is fascinating by your (y/e/c) eyes in the profile picture. You look smart but gentle at the same time. No mention to the fact that even if you are linving in Vegas, you are from (you hometown/nation) and you are a PhD candidate in Archaelogy. 

You dont look like the other girls he met in the last period. You are a student, a really good one. You have a picture in front of Columbia University, which you attended for your MSc and graduated.

So you are not only smart, but really intelligent. 

You have those beautiful (y/h/c) hair and a gentle smile. 

So he picks all his courage and writes you a simple ‘hi’. 

You dont answer immediatly, even if you have read the message. So Greg closes the app with disappointed. Well. It’s proved. You cant find love in one of this app. 

He decides that is far better to start with the awfull pile of documents on the desk, before is too late. Or to early, depends by the point of view. 

*** 

He had finished with paperwork around 7 am and so he decided to go home.

In the moment he enters the living room, he feels so lonely. It’s happening quite often in the last period. He kicks his shoes away and sits on the sofa, taking a deep breath. With his eyes close, he starts to thing about the last serious date and its look like a century ago.

And it was a complete failure.

Everytime he fell for a girl is always the same old story. Firstly, amazing. Then a mess because of his job.

But he doesn't have to change is life only because he feels the emptiness of his house. He has worked so much to achieve this results and now...

Now? What he has? A good position in an horrible schedule shift. An amazing group of team mates - unfortunately Hodges is still working in the materials lab, but who cares- but no social life. No family. He is 40 now and he was looking for a 25 years girl.

So silly.

So stupid.

But what's is even silliest? Losing himself in those throughs instead of sleep. He has his shift starting at 11 pm, but he has the laudary to do. And he need to clean the apartment. Is full of dust.

****

After seven hours sleeping, he feels himself far more positive. It's around 2 pm when he wakes up and start with the laudary. He gets a look on the phone and answer to Morgan under a pic on facebook, than he notices that he has a new notification on Tinder.

He is so surprise when he realises that is you.

-who wrote 'hi' at 4.30 in the morning?-

He blushes a little, thinking about it. It was really early and he hasnt realised it.

-someone who is working at night...?-

The answer is not the best. But you are smart and you bring a good observation.

-like a hooker?-

He laught a little, rising his elbow.

-sorta. But not so well paid.-

Making fun of the hookers is not a good way to start a conversation, but someway, it works. You two share some messages and then you give your phone number to him.

You are free tomorrow for lunch, even if is unusual meeting someone with the sun in the sky, in Vegas.

And he is totaly down.

***

Is strange for you to go on a date with someone you don't know. But it is even strangest go for a lunch date. It's look so formal to you, but the guy in the profile pic looks potentially awsome. You have read from his description that he works for the Clark Country Police Department and this is a hot detail: you have a thing for cops.

You dressed nicely for the lunch inside The Venice's restaurant. Classy choice by the way. But not elegant because is 12 am. You also decide to go easy on your make up, because after this date you have to help in teaching a bacherlo class and you are hoping that you won't have enough time to change, after the meal.

So here we go.

In front of the restaurant.

You look around and see a figure a couple of meters away from you. He is pretty tall and with dark blonde hair. He is also well dressed, better then you, but not formal.

Your glazes meet in the middle of the atrium and you both smile embarrassed. He is the first one to move some steps near to you.

《Hi. You are (y/n)?》

《Yes. And you must be Greg.》

You shake his hand and then catch his invitation to enter in the restaurant first. The waiter reserved you a nice place on the balcony. The cannel is fake, not even similar to the Italian one, but is romantic.

One score for Greg.

《What would you like to eat?》, he asked so politely that you can't help yourself, but smile back.

《I thing I'll go with a sandwich for lunch》

《Nice choice, I am down. Wine?》

《Sorry, but I have a class in the afternoon...》

This time he is smiling. 《Then water for two.》

He is so kind. He decides to drink water because you can't drink wine. This is another score.

After you two have made your orders, it's time for questions.

《Do you usually meet people this way?》, je asks, nicely. Even if there is no accusation in the tune of his voice, you blush a little.

《It's not the first time, but I am still a skeptical, by the way.》

《Why?》

《Because I've met only morons on Tinder. 》 You try your best smile. 《Hope you are not one of them.》

《I share this hope with you》, he jokes. 《I am looking for your verdict at the end of the meal, so.》

You both laught. Is a nice company and the tension is going away.

《So you are a cop?》

《Not exactly. I work for the crime like as a crime scene investigator.》

You looked impressed. 《Sounds amazing but hard at the same time. I am asking to my self you an awsome guy like you is still single.... is for your job?》

This time is Greg the one who blushes. 《Yes is really... It takes most of my time. Someday all of my time.》

《I can relate》, you say. 《I am not cool as you are, I don't save people for live, neither I am good in puzzle but... I work on field so I spend several weeks abroad. Sometimes even a month or two and when I come back...》

《...You have the feeling that everyone is carries on with his life but you are static》 he ends your statement. 《Yes, you can relate, totaly.》

You two share a smile and then he starts to ask you some questiom about your job, your position at the UNLV and stuffs.

In the end, after a sweet fight, he insists to pay the meal, but you put on the table the tips.

《It was really nice 》, you say and he agrees. 《We should do that again. What's your spare night?》

《Monday》 he aswers, immediately 《If my boss wont tell me otherwise.》

《If you are agree, you can see eachother again on Monday, so.》

《It will be amazing.》

Another smile and a little silence. You have no idea of what to do now. Is too soon for a kiss, but an hand shake would be awful. So you decide to come closer to him and kiss his cheek. Is so cute the way he blushes again. Greg is near now and you can feel his breath on your lips. For him, is not too soon. He gently puts a hands on you hip and drag you into a soft kiss.

The best way to end a good date.

****

《So how is she?》

After two weeks dating, Greg decides to tell the guys about you.

Terrible idea.

《She is so nice!》 He starts excited, while Catherine is laught, shaking is head and look at David Philips in the classical 'told ya' way. 《She is beautiful and gentle. She is also tremendously determinate. More than anything, she is so intelligent and her smell is amazing.》

《She can cook?》, Super Dave asks, joking.

《Everything you can say, she can do it. Is incredible. She speaks like five languages and is so sexy in bed.》

《This information is not necessary 》 is Catherine's comment.

But Dave wants to prove a point now. 《....She speaks five languages in bed or it was not correlated?》

《Guys, we are on a crime scene.》

The two boys share a small smile and wait for Russell to be far enough. So Dave asks one last question. 《Are you only fancy her... or maybe you are already in love?》

Greg thinks about it for a couple of second. 《I am already fucked.》

Dave laughs, 《of couse you are.》

[firebrands]

And not to be greedy, but maybe no. 13 for Stony if you're up for it? Thanks!

THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE, THANK YOU

come into the light, m, 2.2k, steve and tony being porn co-stars (!) and quite a bit of tension between them | “co-stars au” + stony bingo prompt fill “tension” | on ao3

It’s been a while since Steve has done one of these confessional-type videos. After a PA has adjusted his seat and they’d tested the lighting, Steve takes a seat by the window of the cabin.

“Action,” the director says, and Steve takes a deep breath.

“The first time I worked with Tony Stark, I had barely started my career. We were both really young, and well, for me…” Steve pauses and runs a hand through his hair before smiling at the camera. “I wasn’t too experienced yet. But he was so gentle, and sweet, and he really helped with my nerves.”

They do a few more takes, try one where Steve’s wearing a different shirt, and one where Steve is talking to the gaffer, so his gaze is set off camera.

The next shot has Steve lying on the bed, only wearing his briefs. He rolls onto his stomach and looks at the camera from under his lashes. “I’m really excited to work with him again, I’ve always found his style really… sexy.”

He doesn’t need to conjure up anything to make himself flush; the script does the trick well enough, mostly because it’s true. He is excited to work with Tony again, even if he’s seen Tony around fairly often.

It makes Steve feel young, the way he reminisces about the first film they’d shot together, all those years ago.

***

There’s something different about the new guy. Tony has said as much as soon as he’d laid eyes on him, blonde and blue eyed and impossibly shy, even as they made him strip so they could shave him and oil him up. Tony has told them all before, that he didn’t like working with inexperienced boys, boys who would freeze at his touch, worry clear in their eyes and even clearer on camera. But there’s no fear in the new guy’s eyes—quite the opposite. Something about him makes Tony jumpy, but he can’t explain why. So instead, he pesters everyone else until they can give them a satisfying answer.

“You sure he’s in the right place?” Tony asks Jan, again. She tuts in response, just like she did earlier. “He’s too pretty, Jan.”

“Well darling, so are you, and that’s what we pay for,” Jan says, meeting Tony’s eyes in the reflection of the mirror. She tilts her head, assessing him, before she runs a hand through Tony’s hair.

“There,” she murmurs to herself, then she pushes Tony up. “Now it’s his turn, so if you please.”

Tony huffs, then walks onto the set. Nick is already in his seat, going through the boards. “Play nice with this one,” he says, and he doesn’t lift his head as he says it.

“So he is new,” Tony says, sitting down beside Nick. “Something’s different about him.”

Nick rolls his eyes. “Yeah, only been in one or two before this,” he admits. “But he’s good.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Nick snorts.

 The scene has them both in their underwear, pressing against each other, hands roaming up and down each other’s sides, breathy moans and whispered pleas. It’s a standard scene, one Tony’s done too many times to count.

Of course, this Steve guy had to go and be great at this, which is both charming and annoying in equal measure. Tony isn’t ashamed to admit that he’d expected Steve to be a ball of nerves, expected him to fumble around, maybe elbow Tony’s solar plexus by accident, or something.

Except, he’s the opposite of that. He opens his mouth readily when Tony kisses him, knows how to move his body, and seems to share Tony’s preternatural awareness of the camera. They move in sync, shifting their bodies to best show the camera their actions.

It’s barely acting anymore when Tony moans as Steve kisses his way down Tony’s chest. Tony feels alight, feels turned on, in a way that he hasn’t been in a long time—even in encounters that aren’t filmed. Steve keeps looking up at him, checking to see if he’s enjoying, and he’s unbearably gorgeous, and god, Tony could write sonnets about his mouth, his tongue, his eyes, the way his breath felt hot against Tony’s skin.

It’s not in the script, but Tony flips them over so he hovers over Steve, desperate to feel in control after losing himself so much under Steve’s touch.

Under his hands, Steve is pliant, his eyes shine with desire when he looks up at Tony and it makes Tony feel a little wild, makes him grab onto Steve’s hips harder, makes him almost rut against Steve until completion.

Almost.

“You’re really good at this,” Steve says, once Nick had yelled cut. Tony wrenches his eyes away from the flush that had spread down from Steve’s neck to his chest, which was glistening with sweat.

“Well,” Tony looks up at Steve and smirks. “I am an actor.”

Tony doesn’t miss the way Steve’s cheeks redden. “Oh, I know I just—“

Tony laughs. “I was kidding.” He takes a bottle of water from the break table and takes a swig, mostly to have something to do with his hands, which are itching to continue touching Steve. Tony wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and considers Steve before speaking, “You’re not so bad, yourself.”

Tony didn’t think it was possible, but Steve blushes even more.

“Thanks, Tony.”

Tony wants to do a number of unspeakable things to Steve at that moment, overwhelmed with how beautiful Steve looks, has looked over the past few hours. Tony wants to make him blush some more, wants to take Steve’s face in his hands and feel the heat on his cheeks on his fingertips, proof that some physical reactions were caused by him and him alone, no script needed.

Instead, he says, “You’re cute when you blush. Make sure you learn to use it well.”

Steve grins and nods. He opens his mouth to say something else, but they’re called back on set.

***

Steve stops in his tracks when he sees him, doesn’t even think when he shouts across the set: “Tony!”

Tony turns, eyebrows furrowed at first at being shouted at, then his face brightens when his gaze lands on Steve, who is already making his way to him; the smile on his face makes Steve’s traitorous heart swell.

They greet each other with an embrace, and it’s so ingrained in Steve to kiss people on the cheek in greeting that he only realizes he’s done it when Tony raises his eyebrows at Steve, surprised.

But Steve isn’t fooled—there’s a slight pinkness to Tony’s cheeks that wasn’t there before.

“How are you doing?”

“Good,” Tony says. “We just wrapped. Are you shooting today?”

“Yeah, what a coincidence,” Steve says, even if it isn't. They all rotate on sets in the large warehouse, schedules crammed tight as shoots go on almost ‘round the clock. It’s cheaper that way, and it’s not like their audience keeps track or comments on it.

Tony nods.

Steve nods back, and finds himself incapable of saying anything else. Tony’s beautiful in the afternoon light, lips pink from whatever activities they’d gotten him to do earlier, eyes bright from release. Steve drinks it all in, feels suddenly like a man in a desert who has found oasis.

Steve sucks in a breath, trying to steady himself against the desire curling in his belly. He thought he was past it, but seeing Tony again, in person, has awoken the desperate need he thought he’d quenched. He wants to touch Tony, would settle with just touching his wrist, really, which is absurd; he’s touched more of Tony before, and has a video to prove it.

“Steve!” Sam calls, voice echoing from across the warehouse.

Tony blinks, and only then does Steve realize that while he’d been looking—Tony had been looking, too.

***

Tony curses. He’s been chasing sleep for almost an hour, now, but can’t seem to settle. He’s tired, exhausted from his back-to-back shoots, and usually he’d just jack himself off to get to sleep but he’s too tired to even get hard.

Or so he thinks.

He curses again as he flips his laptop open. His desktop is a mess, flooded with icons and random files, but he knows what he’s looking for.

His media player, like an asshole, plays from the moment he’d last exited the video. On screen, in high definition, Tony watches himself hold Steve close, watches as he takes Steve’s jaw in his hand and turns his face up, watches as he kisses Steve, open and lewd.

He’s hard, as if he hadn’t spent the past 12 hours in a shoot, popping a pill to keep him up as he held another anonymous man close and imagined Steve in his place.

He thought that he’d reigned it in, that the attraction to Steve was a passing fancy in something new, as it almost always inevitably was. But a week ago, Steve had shouted his name across the soundstage and kissed his cheek and Tony felt weak—still feels weak as he remembers it, the soft press of lips against his skin and he wants nothing more than to trawl through the company directory and find Steve’s phone number, call him up, make Steve blush again.

Instead, he watches, cock twitching in his pajamas as he watches himself manhandle Steve. He clicks to the start of the video, pushes his pants down and takes his cock in his hand, stroking slowly as he watches the way Steve moves under him, remembering the way Steve felt under his hands, breathing hard, eyes trained on Tony’s as he came. Tony has proof, sees it in the video, and at that moment, he lets out a strangled cry.

***

It’s been a while since Tony has done one of these confessional-type videos. They have him pose, clad only in jeans—not bothering to have him wear anything under—as he speaks to the camera.

“Well,” Tony smirks. “I’ve always loved a nice ass.” He laughs, it’s an affected thing.

“I worked with Steve almost a year ago,” Tony says, smiling to the camera. Steve hasn't arrived yet, but Tony feels a thrum of excitement building in him, zinging around and making his body feel alight. He remembers it all still, clear as the video, he’s all but memorized and branded to memory. Steve’s skin, the strong muscles of his arms under Tony’s hands, coupled with how soft his lips felt, pressed against his.

“I’ve always wanted to work with him again, and I’m glad we’ll have this time together.”

Tony’s in the make-up chair, being fussed over by Jan, when Steve arrives. Tony doesn’t bother hiding how he stares at Steve, who is beautiful and somehow, still looking a bit shy.

“Hey, Tony,” Steve says, sitting down beside him. He meets Tony’s gaze in the mirror and offers up a small, nervous smile. “How have you been?”

Tony turns a little, wanting to really look at Steve, but Jan tugs on his hair and makes him straighten back up. “Good. Excited about today,” he says, knowing he sounds nonchalant in spite of how he feels.

He smiles to himself when he sees, in his periphery, Steve duck his head and blush.

“Me too.”

 Nick is sitting in front of the camera, reviewing the boards. Tony shucks off his robe and drapes himself over the bed, clad only in his briefs.

Once Jan is done with him, Steve takes off his own robe. He folds it up, hangs it over his chair, and moves to stand beside Tony.

“Excited?” Tony asks, smiling up at him.

Steve’s lips quirk into a smile. “Been looking forward to this.”

The line shouldn’t affect Tony the way it does; he’s seen the script, he knows exactly what to expect. Still, as if on cue, Tony flushes.

“Come here.”

“Cut,” Nick shouts, sounding weary. “I need you to sound sweeter.”

Tony lies back down on the bed, and Steve rearranges himself, props his knee on the bed, turns to Tony half-way, so that his body is still on full display for the camera.

“Action.”

“Excited?” Tony asks again. He relaxes onto the bed further, an easy smile on his lips—inviting, with just a hint of lewdness.

“Been looking forward to this,” Steve says. He bites his lip for good measure, looking like he’s been waiting to touch Tony, and the look in his eyes is so sincere that Tony, against all rational thought, hopes he actually means it.

Tony lifts his hand, rests it on Steve’s knee. “Come here.”

It’s as if no time has passed between them. Steve touches him confidently, his hand gripping Tony’s waist hard enough to make Tony gasp. His lips against Tony are sure, and soft, and just as pliant as when Tony had kissed him, all those months ago. It feels infinitely better than Tony had imagined, in all those months in between, and he doesn’t bother hiding how pleased it makes him, moans into Steve’s mouth even if there was no direction to do so.

Tony pushes against his chest, turns him over so he’s on top, and kisses him some more.

Nick calls cut, and they rearrange the lights. Tony and Steve stay in suspended motion.

Tony bites his lip, and Steve smiles up at him, beatific.

“Doing anything, after this?” Tony whispers.

Steve reaches up and tucks Tony’s hair behind his ear. “You, hopefully.”

send me a number and i’ll write you a short fic

[v-hope]

Honey Bear

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Fluff, a lil bit of angst, College!AU, mentions of Pianist!Yoongi but that’s not the main plot

Word Count: 3.1k

Request: “Could I request a one shot Yoongi? Yoongi has been having a really hard time sleeping recently, and so has reader so they make an agreement to be each other’s teddy bears so they can go to bed. They’re pretty good friends, so it shouldn’t be awkward, but it is until they get used to it and one of them realizes they like the other (you can choose who) and claims that they can sleep again, but they’ve gotten worse because they’re used to sleeping by the other and it hurts to be this far away now??”

A/N: This request has been in my ask box for a while now, I’m so sorry. Anyway, I woke up today and felt like writing it, so I hope this is what you had in mind and that you enjoy 😅

“Yeah?” you mindlessly answered your phone as you shoved a handful of popcorn into your mouth.

“Yeah? That’s it?”

Yoongi’s voice made you instantly stop chewing and hurried to swallow, taking your phone away from your ear to check the ID number you hadn’t bothered to look at before — your heart racing when you confirmed it was indeed him, and then rushing to put the phone back against your ear.

“No ‘hey, Yoongs’ or that obnoxious pet name you always call me?”

At that, you could only roll your eyes.

“You love it when I call you ‘honey bear’ and you know it” you daringly squinted your eyes, knowing well enough he could not see you. “Don’t act like you hate the name you’ve so honorably earned, Min Yoongi”.

“Whatever,” he was quick to change the subject, stealing a proud smile from you, “can I come over?”

Just like that, your smile was gone. “Oh, um... I’m kind of busy right now with one of my projects, so—”

“I can hear you eating right now…”

“Can’t I eat while I work on something else?” your reply sounded way more defensive than you had intended.

“Okay” he acted like he believed you for a moment, “and what about that lame ass movie I can hear playing in the background?”

“Pitch Perfect is not lame, take that back”.

Hearing him chuckle on the other side of the line made your heart flutter, just like it did whenever you heard that sound that had grown to be your favourite.

“Look, can I come over or not? It’s pretty late and I have a presentation tomorrow, but I can’t sleep without you in my arms”.

You bit down on your lower lip; loving to hear such words coming out of your mouth yet hurting at the reminder of them not meaning what you wanted them to mean.

“I was thinking, um…” you uncomfortably shifted on your seat, “maybe you could get a stuffed animal to cuddle at night instead?”

You didn’t need to see his face to know there was currently a frown adorning it.

“A stuffed animal?”

“Mhm…” you hummed softly, “I uh, I got one already. A teddy bear. It’s pretty cute, actually”.

“You’re replacing me with a teddy bear? Seriously?” although he had tried to sound teasing, you could still hear some kind of hurt in his voice. “So this means you don’t want us to sleep together anymore?”

You stayed silent for a couple of seconds.

“I just… I’ve been doing better at falling asleep lately” you lied, “and I think it’s not good for us to be so dependent on each other, so…”

“Okay…” his voice alone let you know how taken aback he was by your statement, “if that’s what you want…”

“Yeah…” you whispered almost inaudibly. It was not what you wanted at all, but it was for the best.

“But, um… can I still come over tonight?” he wondered, causing your heart to skip a beat. “I don’t have a stuffed animal with me right now and I really need to sleep…”

Simple as that, that’s how you ended up at past one in the morning lying in bed with Yoongi’s chest moving up and down with every calm breath he took, and his arms wrapped tightly around you, like it was so usual by now.

Turning slightly around to look at his sleeping figure, only for his arms to tighten their hold on you out of instinct, you found yourself admiring every inch of that beautiful face that came along with the complex man you had so hopelessly fallen for.

You knew this was bound to happen when you agreed to be each other’s ‘teddy bears’, like the two of you so amusedly like to call it, yet you hadn’t been able to stop it on time; for you didn’t want it to end at all.

However, as you reached out with your hand to ever so tenderly caress from one of his closed eyes down to his cheek, and then to his slightly parted lips that you so painfully wanted to get a taste of, you thought about the decision you were making being the right one.

You were well aware that it would not only mean you would no longer be able to sleep peacefully like you did by his side, but it would also hurt like hell not to have this kind of intimacy with him. Nevertheless, it was for the best, for you didn’t think right then Yoongi would ever return the rather strong feelings you had so easily developed for him.

It was for the best, you mentally repeated over and over as you started to doze off with your forehead resting on his and your thumb still caressing his face.

Only it was not, and it was only a matter of a week for you to realise.

It was not only that you had stopped with your little sleeping sessions, but also how you had unconsciously started to drift away from him altogether; for you had realised then, that you were way more dependent on him than you had thought.

You didn’t know if it was delusional or hilarious, how it had all started one night when both of you were struggling with your classes and your messed up schedules, and you had just gone over to his to help him with one of the subjects; resulting instead on the two of you falling sound asleep on his couch throughout the entire night. It had been unintended, unexpected even, yet that was the night that started it all. The night that started not only the multiple nights of the two of you being each other’s cuddle buddy, but also everything else you did not before, not even as the close friends you were.

It was the daily calls, the visits during the day, having lunch together on campus whenever your schedules allowed you to, keeping him company while he practiced on his piano, the constant bickering, the way he would smile brightly whenever he saw you, and how he’d pretend to hate your so called ‘lame’ jokes yet wouldn’t be able to contain his smile every time.

It was the little things apart from holding each other at night, you noticed, the ones that made you fall harder and harder for him. So, you needed to stop that all at once if you didn’t want to get caught in some kind of irretrievable unrequited love.

Only it wasn’t so easy to let go of him.

Not when you were once again having trouble to sleep at night without him next to you. Not when the teddy bear you now slept with every night could not even compare to the warmth of his body against yours. Much less when you had found one of his cozy hoodies in your closet and now sacredly worn it to sleep every night, to at least try and trick your mind into believing it was him the one with you at night.

Yoongi, on the other hand, was having just as bad of a time as you were, if not worse. Because, for him, it was not only having trouble to sleep, but not knowing what he had done wrong for you to distance yourself from him all at once.

He missed the way you would cling to him like a koala during the nights. He missed having lunch with you instead of his classmates. He missed pretending to be too focused on practicing a song to even care about your presence, when truth was his gaze would fix on you every two seconds to see your reaction whenever he played a couple of notes. Hell, he even missed you calling him that cheesy pet name he always claimed to hate so much; because, after all, it was a reminder of him being the one who got to hold you close at night.

And he did not know how much longer he could go on without doing so.

It was actually by the end of the third week, when you were lying down on your bed as you turned from one side to another in a desperate attempt of finding a comfortable position to fall asleep, that he let you know he had enough.

You jolted up at the sound of an incoming text, which earned a frustrated groan from you before you reached for it under your pillow — squinting your eyes at the sudden source of brightness in the darkness of the room when you pointed the screen at your face.

Yoongs [00:14]: I’m outside, I’ll let myself in

Before you could even completely react to what you had just read, you heard a pair of keys jingling outside your apartment seconds before the door was shut close, letting you know he had indeed let himself inside your place with the keys you had once given him in case of emergency.

Sitting up straight, you stretched your body over the nightstand next to your bed to turn the dim light of the lamp on, right as the door flew open.

Without a word, Yoongi made his way to your bed, not even hesitating to throw the teddy bear lying by what used to be his side of it to the floor, and then slumping down on his stomach next to you — not even bothering to take his shoes off before his right arm rested over your chest and one of his legs was placed on top of your lower body. And although you didn’t know if he had done that to keep you from moving or just for the sake of feeling you closer, you felt your heart racing immediately at the familiar feel of his touch you had so badly been craving.

Staring at his already closed eyes with disbelief written all over your face, you decided to let out a small snort.

“You do know invading my house without my permission i—”

“I let you know beforehand” he cut you off as if nothing, earning a roll of eyes from you.

“I don’t think texting me ten seconds before you help yourself inside counts as ‘letting me know beforehand’, really”.

An unfazed shrug of shoulders was his answer, taking it one step further by mumbling: “Well, if I had called, you would’ve ignored me like you’ve been doing lately anyway, so what’s even the point”.

You felt your heart skip a beat at that, not being able to feel any other than guilt. After all, he was right. You were just kind of expecting he wouldn’t bring that up.

Trying to calm down your racing heartbeats, you let a sigh escape your mouth before you spoke again.

“Yoongi… we agreed not to do this anymore”.

“Yes, we agreed to stop sleeping together, not to stop seeing each other. I never agreed to this” he said as he opened his eyes and his frustrated stare focused on you, making you feel ever so little under it. “And anyway, it’s been hell! I haven’t been able to have one proper night of sleep this whole three weeks, so fuck it. I have an audition tomorrow and, believe it or not, all of this has been affecting my piano skills, so I need to sleep tonight”.

“But there’s other ways to do that...” you spoke softly, both being taken aback by his sudden outburst and scared to make him any more upset. “You have to find something that doesn’t involve me”.

As if on queue, his eyes fell down to your chest, and although for a good second there you thought he was blatantly staring at your boobs, you then realised he was looking at your choice of clothing. The one black, oversized piece of clothing you had been wearing for the past weeks. Certain piece of clothing he was well aware belonged to him.

“My hoodie, I see” Yoongi pointed out what both of you already knew — his piercing stare going back to your eyes. “That makes what you just said sound a little bit hypocritical, don’t you think?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, gazing down as you helplessly tried for him not to notice how ashamed you were feeling right then; both for being caught in your own lie and wearing his hoodie.

However, although he noticed your sheepish reaction, he was not ready to let the topic go just yet.

Resting his weight on his elbows so he could take a better look at you, he went on: “You made me believe you could sleep without me yet had something of mine to help you sleep all along” his knitted eyebrows let you know how much he was not having it. “I had nothing of yours”.

“You want to wear one of my t-shirts then?” you couldn’t help your urge to taunt him in such serious circumstances, causing him to huff and let you know you had achieved your intentions when he shook his head in disbelief.

“No, I want you”.

That was as far as your little moment of fun had lasted, being replaced instead by the tension building up in the room, and a shiver running down your spine at how determinedly he had confessed such thing.

After a few seconds of nothing but what could’ve easily been mistaken for an intense staring contest, which he ended up winning when you looked down to try and collect yourself, you felt like you could finally reply.

“Yoongi” you sighed uneasily, “we were too dependent on each other, we still kind of are...”

“And so what?” he wondered, unconsciously placing his hand on your stomach as he looked for an answer.

Once again, you avoided his gaze; yet you were in too deep already to back down. So, still not locking your eyes with his, you murmured: “We were getting too close… my feelings were starting to get in the way…”

“Your f—” he cut off his own words as what you had meant finally hit.

You felt his whole body freeze for a second, yet his chocolate eyes moved rapidly as he searched in yours for some kind of heartless joke.

When he did not find any sign of a lie in your eyes at all, his previous reluctant expression was replaced by a beaming one — a gummy smile you hadn’t noticed you missed so much until then parting his lips in no time.

“You’re an idiot” he stated.

“Huh?”

Yoongi shook his head without bringing himself to erase his smile. “You made me go three whole weeks sleeping like shit and missing you like crazy just because you were too blind to see my obvious feelings for you?”

It was your turn to freeze, causing a light chuckle to escape his mouth.

“You…” you took in a shaky breath, “you feel the same way about me?”

He snorted. “Yeah? I thought it was obvious?”

“No?” your eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Why would it be obvious?”

“Y/N,” he sighed out of frustration, firmly grabbing your chin for you to listen to him closely, “I literally called you pretty much every night because holding you in my arms is the only way I can fall asleep… you really think I’d do that with anyone?”

“I thought… I mean…” you struggled with your words because of how wild both your heart and mind were running right then, “I thought we had one of those ‘unspoken connections’ some people talk about and that was it”.

“It started off like that, sure” he agreed, “but it was bound to happen after a while, don’t you think?” one of his eyebrows was raised teasingly, managing to bring even more heat to your face. “I actually believed we were somehow together until you started ghosting me out of nowhere”.

Well, that sure had felt like a bucket of ice cold water being thrown right at your face.

“You’re telling me that we could’ve been together all this time if I had just talked to you?”

He shook his head in mocking amusement. “Pretty much, yeah”.

You closed your eyes as you threw your head back and let a loud whine escape your mouth under his visibly amused face — he was enjoying this way more than he should’ve.

“Like I said, an idiot”.

“I sure do feel like one” you snorted, being followed by a small laugh of his that stopped when you later stared at him with coy eyes. “But I’m your idiot now, right?”

The way you batted your eyelashes for him right then had him rolling his eyes in a second, regardless of the smirk that had already curved up his lips, which wasted no time in locking with yours for a brief moment — leaving you elated at the small taste you were not expecting to get of them.

“You are” he played along, ignoring the way your lips remained puckered up and your astonished eyes were wide as ever because of his sudden yet very pleasant action. “Which is why we’re getting rid of that stupid bear”.

Coming out of the trance he had left you in, you let a chuckle abandon your mouth when he annoyedly motioned with his head to the stuffed animal laying on your floor.

“Awe, is the Min Yoongi jealous of a little stuffed animal?” a taunting pout formed on your lips.

“Not jealous” he mumbled, “it just won’t be needed anymore”.

“Whatever you say, bubs” you teased him once again, much to his annoyance. “That plain teddy bear had nothing on my fluffy honey bear anyway”.

That was all it took for him to throw his head back as he groaned. “That is still the cheesiest, most cringy pet name you could have ever came up with”.

“Oh shush, you love it”.

His head fell to your chest, causing his words to come out muffled when he kept on complaining: “If the guys ever heard you call me that—”

“You love it” you stated again, earning a pinch to your hip from him. “You can’t convince me otherwise, honey bear”.

Although another whine escaped his lips, he found himself smiling all over again against the fabric of his own clothes that you were wearing. After all, having you call him that as you let him rest his face on your chest while you softly ran your hands through his hair, was enough to let him know everything was back to normal; if not even better than before.

Just the way he loved things to be, and how he hoped they would remain like for a good while.

[ollieofthebeholder]

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Tumblr tag || Also on AO3

Chapter 26: Jon

When Jon’s grandmother passed away peacefully in her sleep, not long after his twenty-fourth birthday, he quickly discovered that her life insurance and savings weren’t enough to cover all the bills that needed to be covered and put the house he’d grown up in on the market. He only vaguely remembers the whole procedure, as he was in something of a state of shock at the time, but he does remember accepting the first offer presented to him despite the realtor’s comments that he could “probably hold out for a bit more” if he wanted. Thus, he’s the only one not really startled at the speed with which he, Martin, and Tim find out that they’ve got the house.

To be clear: He’s not startled at the speed. He is, however, startled that they got it. Surely someone must have been willing to pay more for it, been better qualified. But no. They learn their offer has been accepted less than a week after the Primes’ disastrous encounter with Basira’s partner and the closing is scheduled for the following Friday. Martin theorizes that their position at the Magnus Institute gave them some extra clout. Tim jokes that it’s his charismatic personality. Jon frets that Elias might have had something to do with it for nefarious purposes.

Sasha finally does some research and tells them that it’s being sold by a pair of siblings barely out of their teens whose parents died unexpectedly and probably just need the money fast.

Martin doesn’t have much, just the little he managed to bring with him to the Institute when first escaping Jane Prentiss and the few things he’s re-acquired since then, and Jon’s things are still packed up from when he declined to renew the lease on his flat in August, so it’s mostly just Tim who needs to decide what he’s keeping and what he’s ready to part with or needs to replace. It takes them the better part of two Saturdays, but they manage to get everything boxed and sorted in time to move out the last full weekend of September.

The moving-in process is surprisingly fun. Sasha and the Primes even come to help (Tim suggests the latter so that Martin Prime knows his way around the house from the get-go, which is actually really sensible) and they make a party of it. Tim insists on setting up the sound system first, then gets everyone to contribute a certain number of songs to a playlist on some app he has on his phone. He puts it on shuffle and lets it play while they work together on the various rooms.

“Oh, my God,” Sasha moans after the eighth song that she evidently didn’t pick comes on. “Do any of you listen to a single band that’s put out an album since 1984?”

“Yes,” Martin says indignantly, his cheeks coloring slightly.

“Remasters don’t count.”

Martin Prime grins. “None of mine have come up, either.”

“What did you put on?” Sasha asks suspiciously.

She gets her answer a few minutes later when, after shuffle coughs up a Spice Girls song they all tease her mercilessly about, an honest to God sea shanty comes on. Tim and Jon laugh at Sasha’s dramatic, despairing groan, but it’s hard not to respond to the Martins’ enthusiasm as they—surprisingly—harmonize along with the recording while they set up the living room.

They’re almost done assembling the new bed Tim bullied Jon into buying (“You’re not in uni anymore, you don’t need to be sleeping on a futon, and anyway, when was this made, the Thatcher premiership?” “Brown, and shut up, Tim.”), which is the last piece of furniture they need to put together, when there’s a sound from the front door—two firm, solid knocks, audible all the way upstairs. Jon nearly drops the screwdriver as his heart kicks against his ribs. It’s stupid, and he knows it’s stupid, but two knocks like that always makes him think of that book.

Tim makes a noise in the back of his throat. “God, hope the music isn’t too loud.”

“I don’t think that’s it,” Martin says, but he sounds uncertain. “I-I mean, it’s been ages.”

Jon pushes himself to his feet. “I’ll check.”

He hurries out of the bedroom before anyone can comment on the clear break in his voice. He is, and there is no way to deny it to himself, legitimately afraid of what might be outside. The likelihood of it being a being of another entity is slim, but…well, there was Mr. Spider, and Jane Prentiss knocked on Martin’s door more than a few times to keep him off-balance, so there’s always the chance. It’s something he feels he can deal with, though, so he heads out to face it.

He does not, however, expect to open the door and be faced with what is either a small child or a casserole dish with tennis shoes.

“Hello,” a tiny voice says brightly from behind the dish. There’s a bit of shifting, and then two big brown eyes and a mass of curls appear over the rim. “I’ve brought you a cake.”

Jon will deny to his dying day that those words freeze his blood in his veins and make his heart stutter to a stop, but since this might actually be his dying day, he’ll be lying if he tries. His lips part, but no sound comes out.

“And a casserole, too,” the child continues, completely oblivious to Jon’s unwarranted panic attack. “That’s not as much fun, though, but Nan says it’s important to eat good, hearty food when you’ve been doing lots of work and that cake shouldn’t be a whole meal. I think there’s no point in being a grown-up if you can’t eat whatever you want, but…” The child heaves an enormous, dramatic sigh that seems too large for such a small body. “My Nan’s very, very old, and you don’t get to be old if you don’t do something right, so she must know what she’s talking about. Anyway, we made the casserole with lots and lots of cheese and she said that was okay, so at least it’s a little better.”

“Ah—thank you?” Jon manages. “H-here, let me…take that.”

He manages to extract the casserole dish, which certainly feels as if it’s laden with cheese; it weighs the proverbial ton. Quite possibly a literal one. It’s solid enough to anchor Jon to reality, though, and he studies his benefactor. The child can’t be more than seven or eight, at the most, with a round face and limbs hidden in an oversized, threadbare sweater that looks like it’s been handed down through more than a few generations. Dangling from one arm is a wicker basket that does indeed appear to contain a cake.

“It’s a chocolate cake with marshmallow frosting,” the child says. “I tried to write ‘Welcome to the neighborhood’ on it, but I didn’t put the tip on the piping bag right and it came off, so now it’s just a mess, but it’ll taste just as good, I promise. My Nan makes the best cakes.”

Jon smiles in spite of himself. “I don’t think I have enough hands to take it from you now. Would you mind bringing it into the kitchen for me?”

“Oh, sure!” The child practically hops over the threshold. “I always wanted to see what this house was like on the inside. Tibby used to babysit for me sometimes, but she always came over to our house, never me coming over here. Nan says it’s better that way, and Tibby always said it was laid out exactly like all the other houses, but it’s not the same as seeing it for yourself. Firsthand knowledge is best, that’s what I think. What do you think?”

“I—I think I agree with you,” Jon says. He also feels a bit like he’s staring at his younger self. “I assume you live in one of the other houses on the row?”

“Two doors down,” the child agrees cheerfully. “With the window boxes. My Nan likes to garden a bit, but she can’t bend over so much anymore, so Toby set up the window boxes for her a couple years ago.”

“And, uh, who is…Toby?”

“Oh, sorry, I thought you knew. Toby McGill. He and Tibby—that’s his sister Tabitha, but everyone calls her Tibby—they were the ones selling this house after their parents died. He’s at Surrey University now and he says he’s going to stay out there when it’s all said and done, and Tibby got a job on a boat.” The child sounds deeply impressed. “I want to be a sailor someday, too. Can you imagine getting to see the whole wide world by water and getting paid for it, too? I’d never want to leave. I told Tibby she has to save a spot on the crew for me and she laughed and promised, so I can’t wait. I’m going as soon as I grow up. I’m not going to university. You don’t need to go to university for everything, you know. I know Nan really wants me to go ‘cause Mum didn’t and neither did Dad and she doesn’t want me turning out like them, but you can turn out well even if you don’t go to university, can’t you?”

“Absolutely,” Jon says gravely. He casts an involuntary glance in the direction of the stairs, thinking of Martin. “One of my housemates didn’t go to university, and he’s one of the most brilliant people I know.”

“How many of you live here, anyway?”

“Just three of us.” Jon has no idea how much this child has seen and how many people he knows are in the house at the moment.

“Oh. There used to be three of us in my house, too.” The child scuffs a toe against the carpet just before they step into the kitchen. “And then there was going to be four, but Mum died and the baby did, too.”

“I’m sorry,” Jon says softly, feeling a pang. “I grew up with my grandmother, too.”

The child looks up at Jon and smiles, in such a way that Jon can’t help but smile back. “And you turned out okay.”

“Debatable,” Jon says. He sets the casserole dish on the counter. “I’m Jon, by the way. Jonathan Sims.”

“I’m Charlie. Charlie Cane.” The child smiles up at him and hands over the basket. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. Tell your grandmother we said thank you. I don’t know that any of us will have the energy to cook tonight. We’ll bring back the dishes tomorrow.”

“There’s no hurry. Nan doesn’t go anywhere.” Charlie flashes Jon a grin that’s missing two teeth, then turns and waves to the doorway. Jon glances up to see Martin, looking somewhere between worried and amused. “Hi! I’m Charlie Cane. Welcome to the neighborhood. Do you live here, too?”

“Um…yes. I’m Martin Blackwood. It’s…nice to meet you?” Martin raises an eyebrow at Jon.

“Charlie and his grandmother made us a casserole,” Jon says, gesturing at the counter. “And a cake.”

“That’s very nice of you. Thank you.” Martin smiles at Charlie and winks, although Jon doesn’t quite understand why.

“Welcome.” Charlie’s beaming smile could probably light the house for a week. “I’d best go before Nan thinks I’m doing something stupid again. See you later!”

He’s out the front door before Jon can respond, or even blink. He looks back to Martin, who isn’t even trying to hide his amusement. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, Jon. We were just wondering if you were okay. You were gone for a while.”

Jon gestures vaguely at the front door. “I don’t think that child has many people to talk to. Or at least not many people who will listen to him.”

Martin snorts. “I think you’ve got yourself a new best friend.”

Jon almost wants to say something flippant like Just what I need, but thinking on it, he actually doesn’t mind all that much. “Considering how much I would have given to have an adult pay that kind of attention to me when I was his age, I think I can handle that.”

Martin reaches over and pulls Jon into a hug. Jon lets himself be comforted for a moment, then extricates himself gently and smiles. “Come on. Let’s see if the others are ready to eat.”

As it turns out, the others finished putting together the bed and even made it while Jon talked to Charlie, so they’re all too happy to come into the kitchen for a hearty meal. It’s exactly as cheese-laden as Charlie promised. Jon recounts his conversation, to general amusement, although something flickers briefly across Martin Prime’s face and Jon Prime shoots Jon an understanding and slightly frightened look when he repeats Charlie’s opening words. If anyone else notices, they give no sign of it.

Tim lets the music keep playing while they eat. Jon mostly tunes it out, no pun intended, and he rather suspects the others do too. But just as they’re scraping their plates clean—the food is delicious, and Tim declares he’s going to try and charm Charlie’s grandmother out of the recipe—Martin Prime suddenly tilts his head to one side, as if trying to catch a sound. A smile twitches at his lips, and he stands up and holds out a hand to Jon Prime. “May I?”

Jon Prime looks startled for a split-second, then smiles—no, grins—and places his hand in Martin Prime’s. He lets Martin Prime pull him away from the table and into his arms, and the two of them start slow-dancing.

Jon pauses, fork suspended over his plate, and watches them. Jon Prime lets Martin Prime lead him in a simple box step, one arm draped casually over Martin Prime’s shoulder, while Martin Prime’s hand rests firmly at his waist; their other fingers are laced together in a way that would make it difficult to telegraph intended moves if they didn’t—probably—know each other so well. The space between them is so little it’s a wonder they don’t constantly trip over each other’s feet, and before long their foreheads touch. The song is gentle and plaintive, encouragement from one partner to the other to trust and relax and allow the first to take care of the second, a promise that the second person won’t be considered weak or lesser if they allow themselves to be comforted.

I promise you’ll be safe here in my arms…

Martin Prime lifts his arm and spins Jon Prime around gently, and when Jon Prime comes back into the closed frame, he leans his head against the shoulder where his hand isn’t resting and closes his eyes. Martin Prime pulls him closer and rests his cheek alongside Jon Prime’s as they continue dancing. It’s one of the most intimate and romantic things Jon has ever seen, and he almost has to look away from it.

Almost. Not quite. Something keeps him drawn, and there’s a tiny part of Jon’s brain that suggests it probably isn’t just the pleasure at seeing someone who’s basically him safe and happy and in love mixed with the vague sense of longing for something like that—maybe not that exactly, but something like it. It may also be that watching the Primes slow dancing means he doesn’t have to look at anyone else.

The song plays itself out. Martin Prime turns his head slightly; Jon Prime turns his at the same time, and their lips meet gently in the middle. This time Jon does look away. He’s never quite been able to figure out how he feels about kissing, to be honest; it’s one of the things that sent his and Georgie’s relationship down in flames, was the fact that he always acted like you think I’ve got poison in my lip gloss, according to her. But he finds himself wondering for a moment what Martin’s lips would feel like against his, if they’d be as soft and warm as the rest of him. If it might make a difference to kiss Martin instead of Georgie, or Meredith, or Kelly. And that’s not a question he’s comfortable asking himself just then, let alone trying to answer.

The scrape of a chair breaks his attention, and he looks up to see the Primes sitting down like nothing happened, although they’re still holding hands. Tim clears his throat. “Who wants cake?”

The cake is, as promised, a bit of a mess—it looks like someone tried to tease out the blob created by the icing tip popping off with a toothpick or something, but the resultant design looks like the pictures someone showed Jon once of a web woven by a spider that had been fed caffeine, and the fact that the icing is bright red doesn’t help—but it is absolutely delicious.

Afterward, Tim and Jon store the leftovers while Martin and Sasha start on the dishes. Jon Prime glances at the kitchen clock and touches Martin Prime on the shoulder. “We should probably go. The later it gets, the more likely that…someone might cruise by the Institute, and I’d rather not risk that.”

Martin Prime squeezes Jon Prime’s hand gently, and Jon swallows on the sudden surge of nausea. They haven’t seen anything of Detective Tonner, and Basira didn’t say anything about her when she showed up last week to switch out the tapes, but the memory of the Primes’ faces when they stumbled back to Tim’s place to change and return his car is a hard one to shake. Even though Jon Prime swears he and Daisy eventually became friends, it’s the eventually that sticks out, and Jon isn’t sure what he’ll do if Daisy turns up at the Institute. It’s also obvious that the Primes are more afraid of her than they’re letting on.

Tim opens his mouth, probably to invite them to spend the night or something, but Sasha beats him to it. “Can you wait a few minutes? I’d rather not walk to the tube station by myself, if it comes to that, and I think you said there’s an entrance to the tunnels near there.”

Jon Prime frowns slightly. “I…don’t think I did, but there is.”

“We’ll walk with you, Sasha,” Martin Prime assures her.

Tim sighs theatrically. “I feel a little better, which is a relative statement not to be taken as approval.”

“Your objection is duly noted.” Sasha hands Martin a plate to dry.

All too soon, everything is cleaned up, just as the playlist comes to an end, and there’s really no way of stalling them further. There’s a round of hugs and see-you-Mondays, and then Sasha and the Primes head out the door, leaving Jon, Martin, and Tim alone in their new house.

It’s not that late, comparatively, so Jon suggests a card game. They’ve played most nights since Sasha went back to sleeping in her own flat; they’ve played a couple of games of Rummy or Go Fish, and Tim once tried to teach Jon and Martin a game he learned from his grandparents that uses a forty-card deck (Martin picked it up quickly, Jon did not), but most of the time they play Crazy Eights. Tim declares that they’re going to keep playing until either he or Jon or both manage to overtake Martin’s score, which is clearly going to be an impossible task, as he’s up by nearly a thousand points and consistently wins at least three or four games a night. Still, they give it a valiant effort. After Martin manages to go out while both Tim and Jon still have an eight each in their hand, though, they decide to call it quits for one night.

“Someday I’ll figure out how you keep doing that,” Jon says, shuffling the deck lightly before putting it back in the box.

Martin shrugs. “Practice, I guess? I used to play with my granddad a lot when I was younger. We kept a running total, too, and I think I was up three thousand points or so when he died.”

Tim gives a low whistle. “How old were you?”

“Nine. We’d been playing pretty regularly since I was five. At least one game every time I went to visit.”

Jon thinks back to the conversation he and Martin had in Tim’s kitchen the morning after Prentiss’s attack. “Is this the grandfather who had the cherry trees?”

“You remembered.” Martin looks pleased. “Yeah, he was my mum’s dad. I never met my dad’s family, that I remember anyway.” He pauses. “You, uh, you told Charlie you were raised by your grandmother. Was that…?”

Jon didn’t know Martin was there, but he’s kind of glad he doesn’t have to figure out how to bring it up. “My father’s mother. She was…formidable. My father died when I was two, from an accidental fall, and my mother died a couple years later. Surgery complications.”

“I’m sorry,” Martin says softly. “That must have been hard on you.”

“Harder on my grandmother, I think. I was barely old enough to remember them.” All Jon remembers of his father is his laugh, and he’s fairly certain that most of his memories of his mother come from his aunt.

Tim leans forward, resting his arms on the table. “Is she still around? Your grandmother?”

Jon shakes his head. “She died just before I started working at the Institute. What about yours, Tim?”

“My dad’s dad is the only grandparent still around. I think.” Tim worries at his lower lip with his teeth for a moment. “I’d like to think someone would call me if something happened, but I don’t know.”

Martin hums sympathetically. “Is he…in a home?”

“Not as far as I know. Last I heard, he was still living with my parents. Moved in when Granny died, just after I left for university.” Tim sighs. “We’re not…close. After Danny…”

Jon reaches over and touches Tim’s arm gently. “It must be hard on them, losing a son. No parent expects to outlive their child.”

“That’s just it. Mum refuses to believe he’s dead.” Tim smiles weakly. “No body, you know? Dad isn’t sure, but he also thinks I know more than I’ve told them. Grandfather all but accused me of having a hand in Danny’s disappearance.”

“What?” Jon blinks, shocked. “How could anyone think you’d—you would never.”

“I know, but…well, Dad’s family was always a bit conservative, blue collar and all that, and I’m…well, me. I think that’s why Dad encouraged my hiking and camping and all that. Hoped it would knock some ‘sense’ into me,” Tim says with a wry twist of his lips. “Once I came out as bi, though, I think they decided there was no hope left for me. It just got worse after Danny died.”

Martin’s expressive face closes down, and Jon’s stomach lurches. This is the most they’ve talked about their families in…ever, he thinks, but from the little bits of information Martin—and Martin Prime, for that matter—have let slip, Jon has formed a very unfavorable impression of Martin’s mother. He’s always kind of had a hazy idea that Tim’s family situation was better, especially after he heard the pride in his voice when he talked about Danny when giving his statement, and finding out that it wasn’t much better than theirs…

“How old were you?” he asks, not sure why. “When you—told them.”

“Seventeen. There was a guy I’d been seeing—nothing serious, really, but we had fun together—and we went out for Valentine’s Day. My parents were confused because they knew my girlfriend and I had just broken up before Christmas and I hadn’t mentioned another girl, so I told them about Steve.” Tim gets quiet for a second. “Mum cried. Dad just…told me to stop upsetting my mother and never brought it up again. Not until Grandfather started in on me.”

Jon swallows. “You’ve a great deal more courage than I have. I—I never admitted to my grandmother that I ever had any interest in boys, let alone dated one.”

“Only one? You’re missing out.” Tim’s grin is a pale echo of his usual one, but it is at least genuine. “How ‘bout you, Martin?”

“A few.” Martin relaxes with a visible effort that makes Jon’s heart ache. “Been out since I was fourteen. Mum reacted…about as well as she reacted any other time I told her something she didn’t like or did something she wasn’t expecting. I never brought anyone home to meet her or…really talked to her about my dating, and she only ever brought it up in relation to herself. Like saying it was a good thing there wasn’t any risk of me passing on any of my numerous undesirable traits to a helpless child.”

“I don’t think your mum understands what ‘bisexual’ means,” Tim points out.

“Probably not, but it doesn’t matter. I’m gay.” Martin grimaces. “I’m also ace, so no risk there anyway, but…”

Jon wants to say any child would be fortunate to count you as a father or I can’t think of a single undesirable trait about you, but what actually comes out is, “Ace?”

“Uh, asexual. It’s—I don’t…get attracted like that. Romance, sure, aesthetic stuff and all that, but not…” Martin gestures vaguely. “Tried it anyway, for a couple of guys I was with, but i-it didn’t go well.”

Jon’s world view shifts abruptly on its axis. Tim, though, looks suddenly worried. “Are you okay? They didn’t—”

“No, no,” Martin says quickly. “It wasn’t—I just don’t like it. That’s all.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Never bothered telling Mum that part. She wouldn’t…I’ve done enough damage.”

Tim pulls Martin into a quick one-armed hug, and Jon reaches across the table to squeeze his hand as gently as he can, but they change the subject after that.

They end up sitting up for a while in their new living room, relaxing. Tim props his feet up in the recliner and works on a crossword; Jon curls up at one end of the sofa with a book he’s been meaning to read for years that Jon Prime assures him he’ll love; Martin sits at the other end and knits. It about bowled Jon over completely when he learned that Martin made most of the sweaters he wears, but the sight and sound of him working away has become increasingly familiar in the last few weeks, especially after the Primes and the rest of the crew collaborated to get him an array of needles and knitting wool in all colors of the rainbow for his birthday. Jon usually finds the gentle clicking of the needles soothing, but tonight it’s just a hair distracting, and he keeps glancing up from the page to watch Martin’s fingers as they expertly manipulate the yarn or Tim tap the eraser of his pencil thoughtfully against his jaw while he contemplates an answer. He’s not even quite sure what he’s looking at.

Finally, Tim lays down his puzzle with a sigh. “I think I’m gonna turn in,” he says, sounding oddly reluctant. “Long day and all that.”

“Yeah, I’m just gonna—” Martin works a couple more stitches and folds up his project. “Probably a good stopping place for tonight.”

Jon considers saying he’s going to stay in the living room and finish the chapter he’s on, but if he’s being completely honest, he’s been on the same page for however long it’s been and hasn’t taken in a single word. Silently, he slides the scrap of paper he’s currently using as a bookmark back between the pages and closes the book. “Well. Good night, then.”

“’Night, Jon.”

The bedrooms are all upstairs, two on one side and one on the other with the bathroom handy, and the three of them wish each other goodnight again before disappearing into their rooms. Jon closes the door and looks around the room, his room.

There’s not much to it, to be honest. A nightstand, a dresser, a battered desk he’s had since he was a child, a lamp and the bed. He sets the book on top of the desk and changes into his comfortable sleep clothes, then crawls into the bed and pulls the covers up over his shoulders.

It’s…odd. No, not odd. Jon can’t quite think of the right word for it. But the sheets feel unfamiliar against his skin, and they don’t smell right, either, probably because they’re new. The mattress that felt perfectly comfortable when he tested it out in the store doesn’t seem to afford the same comfort now, and he wonders if the floor model has simply had much of the stiffness tested out of it over time. Even the pillows, which he did retain from his old bedroom setup, seem determined to thwart his attempts to find a comfortable position.

He rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling, arm draped over his midsection. He won’t fall asleep like this, he’s always been a side-sleeper, but his mind is a seething roil of emotions and he needs to get his thoughts under control before he can even have a hope of getting comfortable enough to sleep, he guesses.

Asexual. Jon probes at the word, at what it describes. I don’t get attracted like that. I just don’t like it. Honestly, until meeting Georgie, Jon had no idea that sort of attraction really existed; he thought it was just something out of the lurid romance novels his grandmother favored and he’d read once or twice in sheer desperation. It was something she’d wanted, though, so he’d tried a few times, but his efforts hadn’t satisfied her and he never really saw what all the fuss was about. He can take it or leave it, preferably the latter.

He never knew there was a word for it.

Suddenly, he wants to talk to Martin about it, about how he realized, how he knew. Where he found the word. If there are many more like—well, like them, he supposes. If that’s one of the reasons he was reluctant to tell Jon how he felt. He wants to ask about Martin’s experiences, if they were bad just because his body didn’t want them or for some other reason. A part of him also wants to cry from sheer relief. He isn’t broken. There’s nothing wrong with him. Well, not in that respect, anyway.

He sighs heavily and rolls onto his side again, plumping the pillows and curling one arm around them. They’re too flat, he thinks idly, too soft and yielding. Which is odd, because that’s never bothered him before. He can’t seem to get warm, either, which is also bizarre because it’s been an unusually mild day for late September and he’s under the duvet he’s had for years, which suddenly seems too light and insubstantial. The room is too quiet and still. It all feels…wrong, somehow.

Jon closes his eyes and stubbornly tries to force sleep, to no avail. The sense of wrongness pervades his being, curling through him and keeping him tethered to consciousness. He runs through the list of problems he seems to be having and tries to come up with which one might be keeping him awake. The only thing he can think of is the unfamiliar mattress. Everything else is exactly the way it was in his old flat.

And when was the last time you slept there? The thought hits him all of a sudden, and his eyes snap open. He forgot. The last time he slept in his apartment was the night before Jane Prentiss attacked the Institute. Ever since then, he’s been sleeping in Tim’s living room…or in Tim’s bed. With the others.

That’s all it is. He isn’t used to the silence of being alone. He’s not used to not knowing, right away, exactly where Tim and Martin are and if they’re safe. He’ll just go and check on them, see that they’re safe, and he’ll be able to get to sleep just fine.

He throws back the covers, slides his glasses back on, and heads into the hallway. Jon somehow ended up in the room by the bathroom, while Tim and Martin are on the other side of the hallway. Martin’s room is first, though, so Jon heads there. He’s as careful as he can be. Martin is probably asleep by now. He definitely seemed tired while they were still in the living room, and Jon wonders if he lingered because the other two were still sitting down there. It makes him feel slightly guilty, like he should have called it a night earlier so Martin can get some sleep. And after all, they did have a very emotionally draining conversation, which probably exhausted him as well. All that runs through Jon’s mind as he slowly, slowly eases the door open and peers around it to see into Martin’s room.

It’s sparsely furnished; nothing but a bed and one of those flimsy pop-up cloth jobs bisected into cubes, which is serving as his dresser. Martin’s laptop and phone sit on the floor, both connected to their chargers. The bed is mussed slightly and shows signs of having been occupied, but Jon’s heart rate accelerates when he looks at it. It’s empty.

There’s no sign of a struggle, he tells himself, and he heard nothing, so surely everything is fine. Martin’s probably just in the bathroom, or downstairs getting a glass of water or something. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. Jon will just…go check on Tim and Tim will be fine and then he’ll go find Martin and make sure he’s fine and it…will…be…fine. He pulls the door closed and turns to Tim’s room.

The door is slightly ajar, and there’s a faint glow coming from the room. Jon hesitates, then taps lightly on the door three times before easing it open. Tim is sitting up on the bed, cross-legged and leaning forward slightly. And—Jon’s shoulders slump in relief—Martin is there, too, on the edge of the bed, one leg hanging off the side and the other tucked underneath him. They’re talking quietly, but both obviously exhausted. They look up at the sound of the door opening and watch Jon stand in the doorway. He opens his mouth, then realizes he doesn’t know what to say and closes it again.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Martin asks gently. The circles under his eyes are almost black.

“No,” Jon admits. “I—I just wanted to—” He breaks off, still not sure what to say.

Wordlessly, Tim holds out a hand. Jon lets the bedroom door shut behind him as he comes forward and takes it. Martin wraps an arm around him from behind, and the two of them pull Jon onto the bed and into a lying-down position. Tim rolls over and snaps off the lamp by his bed, then pulls the covers up over all three of them. Jon manages to reach down and snag the middle to help.

“Better,” Tim murmurs.

It’s not a question, but Jon hums in agreement anyway. Trying for levity, he says, “Shame to waste money on new beds, though.”

“We’ll be able to sleep there eventually,” Martin says. Jon only realizes how much stress was in his voice when it’s drastically lessened. “At some point we’ll probably want the space. But for now, there’s this.”

“For now, there’s this,” Jon agrees. He tilts his head back briefly to rest it against Martin’s shoulder, and Martin scoots in closer.

Tim does, too, the two of them sandwiching Jon securely between them. “Get some sleep,” he says. “It’ll be all right tomorrow.”

Jon yawns and closes his eyes, and it doesn’t really surprise him when he falls asleep straightaway. The nightmares are as present as ever, but in the morning, he can almost fool himself into believing they weren’t so bad.

Almost.

[animegenork]

Sorry to interrupt regularly scheduled ignoring my random, but I wanted to put these somewhere, so I figured I’d put him here on my blog!

Basically, I wrote these short drabbles for each LI from @andromeda-six some number of months ago (I have no idea what time is anymore, but I think this was in July), around the time when Episode 4 was still blowing my mind. I did it as a sort of comfort thing and to do something nice for some friends, but I actually kinda liked them? So I figured I’d share, if that’s okay... If not you can just unfollow me like a bunch of people have been doing LMAO

All below the cut! :D

For my fellow Damon stans

If Calderon Hadn’t Cockblocked in the DLC 

"Yeah..." he says. "Stunning." 

 I realize he's not talking about the fireflies anymore as I turn my head to see him staring at me. My body starts to hum with the attention he's giving me; of course, he's looked at me before, but something about this is... different. 

 "Traveler," he murmurs, his voice quieter than I've ever heard it. He's not one to be quiet, I realize. It's either silence or full volume with this one. 

 My breath stops in my throat as his hand lightly touches my chin, as he has many times before. As he leans closer, I feel the logical part of my brain trying to push me away. He's bad news, it says. You shouldn't get involved. 

Screw logic. 

 His lips touch mine, and I feel something inside me melt. It's like he's some sort of poison, tearing me apart from the inside out. But somehow, that's good in this case. I decide I like poisons named Damon. 

Briefly, he pulls away, searching my eyes for any signs of protest, though I can't imagine ANYONE'S ever protested a kiss from him. Except maybe Calderon. 

"Was that stunning?" I nearly choke out, and the smirk that creeps up his face makes the stupid joke worth it. 

 "In a way," he replies, leaning in to kiss me again. 

I should volunteer to do the laundry more often.

------

For the Bash-ers (wait no that sounded wrong WHAT I MEANT WAS--)

Stars

Bash is waiting for me outside my room. He's in the process of hanging up one of his outrageous doodles, but he smiles despite being caught in action. "Sleep well?" 

"Ehhh," I reply, though my nonchalance is definitely offset by the dark circles under my eyes. It's hard to sleep when you have the weight of a galaxy resting on your shoulders. 

He studies my face for a moment before grinning. "Alright, come on." 

Grabbing my hand, he drags me through the hallway to the loading bay, until I can see the stars out the window, like I did the first day I woke up on the Six. A smile lifts the corners of my lips. The stars, as always, bring some sense of comfort to me. Looking at them, it's like there's nothing that could bother me.

I smile up at Bash. "Thanks, Bash."

"Oh, come on." I look up at him quizzically, and he wraps his arms around me, lifts me off the ground, and spins me around. "SMILE WIDER!" he practically screams, and I laugh at how weird he's being about something as simple as a smile. But that's Bash, I suppose. That's just the way he is.

He stops spinning me and looks up at me with his gleaming green eye and glinting yellow one. This time, my smile is more genuine. "Thank you." 

Setting me down gently, he kisses me on the forehead, which surprises me and delights me all at once. "Anytime, Traveler."

It takes all my willpower not to melt to the floor in a puddle as I blush myself silly.

------

Now Juuuuuuune (baby boy)

Hold My Hand

At first, I was just determined to meet June's lizard. Then, I find him in one of the storage closets, frowning at the wall as if it had just insulted him. "June?"

He doesn't answer, not at first. Then, slowly, he turns, and from the haunted look in his eye, I can tell he was just in a dark place. That wasn't this closet, that is.

"Traveler," he says hoarsely. He steps out of the closet and closes the door behind him, leaning heavily against it. "What's up?"

I can't possibly ask him about his lizard right now. "I, uh... just wanted to say hi."

June manages a weak grin. "Hi."

"Hi." We're silent then, and I see that something is still weighing on him. So I do something a bit drastic.

I hold out my hand. "Hold my hand, June."

"What?" He shoots me a questioning look, but, seeing the look on my face, he obliges and gives me his hand. Unsurprisingly, it's a bit calloused and rough, and a part of me just wants to hold it there and pretend time isn't passing around us.

But no, this isn't about me. This is about June. He's hurting, and I want him to feel better. It's not right for such a sweet man to be hurting this much.

I lift his hand to my lips and kiss his palm gently. Then, I close his fingers over his own hand and look up at him. "If you need someone to talk to, I'm here, June."

A light blush is spreading across his cheeks, but his weak smile softens as he murmurs, "Thanks, Traveler."

He wraps his arms around me in a hug, and I embrace him back. Sometimes, we all need to remember that we're not alone in this fucked-up universe.

------

For Cal-ers? (Was that funny? No? Okay I thought so)

Lynch the Cal-y Cat

Pushing Calderon's buttons shouldn't have been as amusing as it was, and yet, it continued to amuse me. Perhaps Damon and Aya were rubbing off on me too much, or perhaps a part of me had always been this mischievous.

I wasn't quite sure what possessed me to do it, but I acquired a pair of cat ears, yellow, like his hair, and I was trying to sneak them onto his head without his noticing. As I tiptoe up behind him, I realize with a sudden clarity that there is no one else around, and so, he is that much more likely to hear me coming. Dammit.

And indeed, he turns around before I succeed, a scowl upon his face. I have a split second lead on him, so I slip the cat ears on his head before he can protest. 

"What the hell?" he grumbles, rolling his eyes up, as if he can see the top of his head by doing so.

I start laughing uncontrollably, doubling over and practically not breathing anymore. He watches me enjoy his annoyance with a dark expression on his face. Even if he's pissed, the sight of him with kitty ears is priceless.

After a few moments, his face softens into a more neutral expression. I glance up at him, still shaking with the force of my laughter, and ask, "Cat got your tongue?" I bite my lip before I start rolling on the floor.

"You're smiling."

What? "Huh?"

Calderon looks away, as if saying something like this was a nuisance. "You're not moping around anymore. It's good to see you out and about."

Had he been WORRIED about me? Well, that was all sorts of embarrassing. "Uh, yeah, um, thanks, I guess...?"

He gives me a curt nod and continues down the hallway. "Oh, and Traveler?" I turn and raise my eyebrows at him. There's mischief gleaming in his eyes, and I'm not sure what to think about it.

"Be prepared for my payback." And then he leaves.

Oh, man. Why does that make me smile wider than I was about the cat ears?

------

Now for Aya <3

So About That Pole...

It's weird to consistently think of a sorta-sexy pole dance a friend of yours did just for fun, right? Right.

But I was undoubtedly thinking about that pole dance all the time, and I knew I wouldn't be able to look Aya in the eye until I'd had some semblance of a normal conversation with her again.

So when she surprises me at my room, I think perhaps karma or something is out to get me.

"Traveler! So Bash and I are planning this latest prank-" she begins, and then she sees that a blush is spreading over my face. "Are you sick? Should I take you to Ryona?" She puts her hand on my forehead, and I can't believe I haven't completely lost my shit yet.

That pole dance is on fucking repeat.

"You were saying?" I grit out, ignoring my clammy hands.

Aya cocks an eyebrow. "Oh no, you're not getting out that easily." She leans forward and rests her forehead against mine, and I stare, wide-eyed, into her eyes. Such proximity is really not good for my heart, considering how much I've been thinking about her.

Finally, she narrows her eyes. "Wait. What are you thinking about?" I don't answer, and she starts to grin. "Don't tell me after that dance, you've fallen for me?"

I blush.

She laughs, lacing her fingers with mine. "I'm flattered, Traveler. I'm sorry I didn't prepare you for that." With a kind smile, she winks at me. "But hey, lemme know if you want a repeat show."

Of course, my language skills return at that moment. "I just like that you were having so much fun."

Aya's eyes glitter with some emotion I can't read, and she leans in and whispers: 

"Good. Because I have fun when I'm with you." 

It's a miracle I don't drop dead on the spot.

------

Ryona, darling heart

Kiss to Make It Better?

I walk around the infirmary, marveling at all the plants Ryona has placed around the room. They really do give the room a homey touch, much better than I assume most infirmaries must look. At least, my perception of them has been anything but this.

Behind me, the door opens, and I turn to find Ryona, eyebrows raised. "Traveler? What's wrong?"

Now was my chance. I hold up my finger. "I got a bad cut."

Silence.

Ryona starts to chuckle, and I grin awkwardly as she comes over and inspects the cut. "How did this happen?"

"I was practicing with the knife Damon gave me--"

"Say no more."

Okay, good, cuz there was no way I'd admit to Ryona that I kinda-sorta did it on purpose.

But of course, she somehow knew anyway. "You didn't do this to yourself on purpose, did you?" She looks up from the cut to my face, raising a stern eyebrow and pursing her lips. I swallow. How is she so good at that?

So I tell the truth. "I wanted to see you." Wait, shit, I didn't mean to be so blunt about it--

Her chuckle returns as she begins wrapping a bandage around the cut. I watch her nimble fingers work, fascinated by how efficient they are when I can barely do any similar activity without messing up at least once. Which is why I thought it would be believable that I hadn't done this on purpose.

When she's done, Ryona smiles at me. "Need anything else?"

It's childish, but surely she won't mind...? "Maybe a kiss will make it better?"

Ryona's blue skin flickers a bit as a reddish tinge spreads across her cheeks. Nevertheless, she lightly kisses my bandaged finger, and I grin triumphantly. "Does it feel better now?" she asks tightly, as if she's trying not to melt in a puddle like my heart already has.

"Yes. Thanks, Ry," I whisper, leaning forward and resting my forehead against hers. We smile at each other. At my side, my finger tingles.

------

And now we have reached Vexx-point! (Was... was that a pun? I don’t know...)

Don’t Worry, I’ll Save You

It's hard to watch someone you love suffer, even if that someone broke your heart not too long ago.

Maybe it was pointless for me to keep my hopes up when it came to Vexx, but I knew, from the moment he told me he hadn't cared, that something was up. Even if it had been all an act, I knew that what we had was something, and it certainly wasn't nothing.

So as I sit here, watching him sleep fitfully in the room where we're keeping him prisoner, I can't help but wonder what that manic look in his eye is all about. What did Zovack do to him? How can I fix it?

Suddenly, Vexx's face crumples into a forlorn expression, and I can't just sit by him anymore. I scoot over to him and put his head in my lap, stroking his red hair. Then, a thought occurs to me, and I take out my music box and open it, letting its lullaby soothe Vexx, even in the midst of his nightmares.

I can't help myself; I lean down and gently kiss his forehead, knowing he won't remember it when he wakes up. "Don't worry, Vexx. I'll save you. I promise."

Though he can't hear me, his lips turn up slightly in a smile, and I have a feeling his bad dreams have shifted to something better.

It's up to me to make that a reality for him.

-------

Wow I forgot how short that last one was, I’m a bit embarrassed ;w;

But anyway, if you read these, thank you for the taking the time! <3

[strawberriestyles]

Chapter 11

(Banner made by sweet sunshine @harry-nofookingway-styles​)

Harry X OFC (AU)

Sequel to Brutality: In which Melody and Harry must relearn how to navigate one another among a flurry of changes.

Read previous parts here.

Author’s note: Heyyyyyaaaaaaa. I’m going to be honest with y’all. I have not been working on this story like I should have since I started posting. That being said, I do have a few more chapters completed but then things get a littleeeeee fuzzy bc I’ve been slacking. I’m going to try to keep up with the posting schedule I have rn, but if that doesn’t work out, please forgive me. I may need to pause for a few weeks to stack up some more chapters. BUT CROSS YOUR FINGERS I GET MY SHIT TOGETHER. As always, please like and reblog and leave me an ask if you can. :’) When you’re done reading, I would love for you guys to go find a petition you haven’t signed yet. All of my love. Xx

Melody still had nightmares. Horrible ones. Awful, haunting dreams that pressed at the edges of reality, blurring lines between sleeping and waking. But they somehow became less constant and more bearable within the next few weeks. Whether it was due to Harry’s constant, tender touches as she fell asleep every night, or to the ugly, unartistic paintings and incoherent writing she’d forced out, there were no clues. She thought Harry deserved the credit, but he thought it could be a mix of both.

Early snow dusted the city like powdered sugar, lightly enough to look pretty without making traffic a mess. Melody felt the cold dampen her mood, but Harry only seemed to brighten at the prospect of a blizzard warning. Snow dazzled him. Despite everything he’d experienced in his relatively short life, somehow winter had always remained a sort of sanctuary for him. And he’d softened himself toward everyone as a result.

“Ugh, do I have to go?” Melody asked aloud when she reentered the bedroom to find him laid out on her bed. He looked so cozy and warm in a pair of sweats with his hair mussed atop his head. She bent over him to plant a chaste kiss to his lips.

“No,” Harry said, “yeh don’.”

She smiled ruefully and stole another soft kiss from him. “Yes, I do.”

“Yeh don’ have to. Could stay here with me.”

“Harry.” Melody accepted his return kisses as he sat himself up, swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress.

“Melody.” He ran a thumb over the curve of her chin and sighed.

“I need to go. Please, be nice to Bea.”

“Always am.”

“Sure you are.” She pressed her lips to his one final time and let them linger a few moments too long, until she felt his fingers sneaking around the back of her neck. If she let him touch her too much she’d end up late to her own match. “Okay, I’m leaving,” she insisted as she backed away. “I’m going. Bye.”

Harry watched her slip out of the room, collecting her gym bag on the way. He was relieved that she hadn’t told him she loved him. Every time he heard the words on her tongue he felt his very organs shift, felt them contort and fold in on themselves. He would never, ever tell her the way it made him feel, but he hoped that eventually, when he still wasn’t saying it back, she might just let the sentiment die. Wishful thinking, perhaps.

“Let’s go, Harry!” Bea called from the living room.

He sighed as he rose to his feet and lumbered out of the bedroom, his cane clicking on the hardwood. The door to the apartment closed before he made it past the threshold of the room. It was only him and Bea left. There was still an awkward air between them, but it was beginning to thin. Harry thought it was because of his help with Melody’s nightmares. He didn’t like the idea that Bea had ever thought he’d be useless in a situation like that. He didn’t like that doing the bare minimum to comfort Melody had somehow made Bea more open to him.

“You don’t look enthused.”

“I don’ like to bullshit,” Harry responded.

Bea grinned. She patted the cushion beside her and waited for him to sit. She didn’t seem bothered that he sat farther from her than necessary.

“Aren’t you wondering what we’re gonna watch?” Bea asked.

Harry shrugged. “Not really.”

“What if I picked a chick flick?”

“Then I’d just fall asleep.”

“You’re not falling asleep tonight,” Bea stated. “We’re watching The Silence of the Lambs.”

Harry’s lack of reaction seemed to deflate her. She clicked a button on the remote and the opening credits of the film began to roll.

“I have no clue how you’re with someone who writes and paints,” Bea murmured.

“If yeh figure it out, let me know.”

The pair lapsed into silence as the movie started. And didn’t even exchange a glance when Queenie appeared, curling up on the cushion between them.

Bea paused after a bit to take a call from Josie and microwave a bag of popcorn, and when she returned she found her cat sprawled across Harry’s lap, purring loudly, much to Harry’s chagrin. She had to consciously stop herself from spitting out laughter. Instead, she sat back in her seat and slid the bowl of popcorn into the spot that Queenie had abandoned.

***

“That was fucked up,” Harry eventually said, when the end credits of the movie had been rolling for a few minutes.

“Yes.”

“He wore the guy’s face.”

“He eats people. I feel like that’s the more fucked up of the two.”

Harry shook his limbs, as though he could expel the disturbing parts of the movie from his memory. Queenie, who hadn’t moved since she settled into his lap, took unkindly to his movement, stretched to the floor, and bounded into Bea’s bedroom.

“Glad Melody didn’t watch this one.”

Bea drew in a deep breath and shook her head. “Melody loves scary movies,” she informed him. "But that’s because she knows they’re not real. She’s not—It’s different when you live it, right?”

Harry fell silent. Whether she agreed or not, he was the one that had dragged Melody into a horror film of her own. Now she could barely sleep in her own bed because of his brother. And he didn’t know how else he could help, how else he could ward off the monsters.

“Speak of the devil,” Bea said as she caught sight of Harry’s phone, where it buzzed on the coffee table. “Mel” was spelled across the screen. Harry leaned forward to answer the call and bring the phone to his ear.

“Hi.”

“Hey, man.”

Sean’s voice sounded muffled and uneasy. Harry felt himself stiffen almost immediately, and his body language conveyed something to Bea. She unfolded her legs to place her feet flat on the floorboards.

“Wha’s wrong?”

“Why does something have to be wrong?”

“Because yeh’re callin’ me from Melody’s phone and yeh sound like yeh’re about to get in trouble. Don’ fuck with me.”

There was a brief hiccup of a chuckle on the other end of the line. It was a nervous sound. Harry didn’t like it one bit.

“Uh, she lost her match.” Sean cleared his throat before he went on. “She’s about to get an X-ray of her torso done right now. I’m sure it’s just—”

“Fuckin’ Christ, Sean! Yeh could’ve led with that.” Harry was already on his feet, reaching for the arm of the sofa to keep his balance when he realized he was forgetting his cane. He doubled back and waved off Bea’s desperate vie for information.

“She’s probably fine!” Sean defended. “I don’t think she broke anything or she would’ve been a little more hysterical.”

“For fuck’s sake. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

Harry hung up before Sean could respond. “She’s gettin’ X-rays at the hospital,” he spat at Bea, who was following him around and demanding to know what was going on. “Might have a broken rib or somethin’.”

So much for this strange bonding experience that Melody had insisted on. It felt more like something sorority sisters might do on the weekends than anything else, anyway. And Harry didn’t wait for Bea as he hobbled down the complex stairs, struggling into a jacket while supporting himself with his cane. But somehow she ended up in the cab with him, and their mutual silence felt unifying.

***

“Floor two,” the woman at the lobby’s desk said. Harry was already crossing to the elevators, so she nearly shouted the room number to him. Bea, despite being in perfect health, had to rush to keep up with him. Her curls bounced with every hurried step.

“Harry, I’m sure she’s okay.” She tugged the zipper down on her jacket as they waited for an elevator and tried to catch her breath. This felt like exercise, and Bea hated exercise. “Not that you shouldn’t be worried,” she continued, “but don’t act like she’s on the brink of death. She’s used to injuries.”

Harry snorted humorlessly. Melody didn’t know what injuries were. She told him once that she’d never been to the hospital for herself. It was always a cousin giving birth or her father getting stitches. She had never split her skin open far enough to get stitched up herself, or been hit so hard that her insides were bleeding, or snapped a bone.

There was a musical ding as an elevator reached the ground floor. Harry didn’t wait for the family on it to exit before he shouldered past them and jammed his thumb into the button for the second story. Bea was more patient. She allowed everyone out before she stepped in beside Harry and watched him smash the button to close the elevator doors. It was almost endearing to see him so concerned, but it was also too intense for her tastes.

There was no elevator music to lull the pair of them. They waited in silence until they reached the floor that Melody was on and then navigated through the halls quickly until they found the correct room number. Sean was just inside the door.

“Ah, I thought you’d gotten lost or—”

“Fuck you,” Harry snapped as he stepped past his friend. Melody was laying in a hospital bed. This setting was so familiar to Harry, but with the roles reversed, it felt like he was having a nightmare of his own.

“You don’t have to be rude to him, you know,” Melody muttered.

She had an awful, swelling bruise on her forehead, so close to her temple that it could’ve made Harry sick. She was in a sports bra, and for the first time he noticed Vanessa, who was meticulously wrapping up Melody’s ribcage.

“‘S not broken?” was the first thing Harry said.

“No,” Vanessa answered.

“Bruised.” Sean took a step forward, trying to insert himself back into the conversation that he had been ejected from. “She was doing really well and then—”

“I don’ wanna hear from you,” Harry interrupted. Melody rolled her eyes. Sean sighed.

“Fine, I guess I’ll go home,” he said. “I’ll let Goodman know you’re out for at least a month.”

Melody’s eyes widened and when she moved, the pressure on her ribs made her flinch. “A month?”

“At least,” Sean repeated.

“It’s a bruise.”

“‘S a bruised rib, Melody,” Harry snapped.

Sean left without any goodbyes. Bea leaned up against the wall where he’d been standing and lifted an eyebrow. “Thought you had defenses like a brick wall,” she teased.

“Shut up,” Melody mumbled as Vanessa finished her work. The room fell silent.

“Do you want some ice for your face?” Vanessa asked eventually, when Melody had been avoiding everyone’s eyes and the rest of them were sick of looking at each other.

“No, I can just—”

“Yes, she’ll take some ice,” Harry cut in.

“You tend to interrupt people,” Melody informed him. She laid back gently against the pillows that had been propped up behind her. “Have you noticed?”

Bea snorted. “Pretty sure he does it on purpose,” she said before wandering out of the room. Vanessa glanced between Harry and Melody and then followed Bea. The tension that had already filled the air seemed to thicken, settling over the two of them like an unnavigable fog. Harry sliced through it first.

“This is why I don’ want yeh fighting,” he said.

“You’re such a hypocrite, Harry,” she muttered. Then her voice rose. “If you were still in the ring you’d be getting injured, too. And I—”

Harry ignored the sting that he felt, the knowledge that he couldn’t box in his current condition. What if she wasn’t able to write? These days it seemed just that she didn’t want to, but if she wasn’t able to, wouldn’t she feel this same sort of despair? “Mel, yeh bruised your fuckin’ rib.” He took a step further into the room. “A little more pressure and it breaks. A little less luck and it punctures a fuckin’ lung and yeh’re chokin’ on blood. These are not just injuries. Yeh didn’ just fall off a bike and scrape your knee.”

Melody paused. She didn’t know how to respond. That sounded like her own fears spit back in her face. A half inch to the left and that bullet would’ve killed you.

“Are you going to keep yelling?”

“‘M not fuckin’ yelling. Do yeh want me to yell?” Harry’s brows knitted together and he shook his head. “What did yeh expect, me to lay down next to yeh and tell yeh ‘m so glad yeh’re okay? ‘S not happenin’. Think I’ve made my feelings pretty clear when it comes to this.”

“Actually, I didn’t expect anything. I didn’t want to call you.” Melody licked her lips as she studied the anger etched into the lines of Harry’s face, and then the minuscule shift as he realized that Sean was on his side. At least in this moment. “It comes with being a boxer,” she said after a pause. “You told me that once.”

Harry sighed. “Yeh’re not a fuckin’ boxer, Mel. Yeh’re a writer. Yeh’re a painter.”

“I can be whatever the fuck I want to be, Harry. And you’re not going to tell me what that is.”

His features hardened for a moment and then he glanced out the window. There was snow falling, slowly and gently, without the force of the brutal wind that would arrive in the coming weeks. It was so peaceful out there, and Harry wondered how he’d let himself become so resentful.

He stared outside for a few long minutes and then let his eyes wander back to Melody, who was already picking absentmindedly at the wrappings of her ribcage. His legs were growing weary and he was on the verge of needing to sit. Melody glanced up when she felt the weight of his gaze.

“Can we go home now?” she asked, and her voice was so soft, so at odds with the way she’d spoken her last sentence, that Harry could feel himself physically jarred by the shift.

“I can’ help yeh walk,” he said, though the words tasted like acid. “Yeh’re gonna need Bea and I dunno where she went off to.”

Melody chewed on her lower lip. She felt guilty for the short argument they’d had, and she could see that same feeling reflected back at her. The match had tired her out, her bruised rib hurt with every expansive breath. In vain, tears began to collect at the corners of her reddening eyes.

“Don’,” Harry said, taking a shaky step forward. He could sense the shift even before he saw her chin trembling. “Please, don’.”

“I’m not, I’m not,” she murmured, pressing her fingers to her eyelids, as if they could keep the water back like a dam. “Uh, how was the movie?”

“It was good,” Harry assured her, surprising himself. He hadn’t known that he enjoyed it until then, when he was put on the spot. Bea appeared like she’d been summoned.

“I heard that!” she nearly shouted. “He liked it!” Then her eyes fell to Melody and her snide grin tipped into a frown. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying,” Melody said with a discrete sniffle. “Can someone ask Vanessa if we can leave?”

“She said you just need to take it easy for a few weeks.” Bea shuffled past Harry and pried Melody’s hands from her face. “Which means no training.”

“Perfect,” Melody mumbled. She allowed Bea to begin shifting her out of the bed, gently twisting her limbs, trying not to tweak her rib. Harry had to lower himself into the chair a few feet from where he had been standing to give his legs some relief.

“The wraps are just for you to get home.” Bea paused as Melody bit back a whimper, waiting for her to straighten her torso. “And she’s hooking you up with some pain meds.”

“Yeh’ll need ‘em,” Harry muttered. He stood back up as the girls made their way toward the door. They were a conspicuous group, with a cane, a wrapped ribcage, and shuffling footsteps. Eyes followed them through the halls, all the way to a cab.

***

Melody’s lips grew white as Harry helped her out of her wrappings. She screwed her eyes shut and her fingertips curled into his knee.

“Okay,” he whispered as he tugged the final loop of fabric loose, leaving her skin bare. The sight of her flesh made him hiss. “Who the fuck hit yeh, the Hulk?”

“Mmm.”

Harry pressed a hand to her cheek. Her skin was hot, damp, and he could feel her jaw twitching, like she might be grinding her teeth. Her breathing was shallow.

“Let’s get yeh some o’ those painkillers, yeah?”

“No, I’m okay,” she whispered, though her voice shook.

“Mel.” He pressed a kiss to one of her closed eyes. “I’ve had a bruised rib before.”

She didn’t respond. He heard her try to take a deeper breath and then felt her neck quiver beneath his fingertips. She shook with the effort of stifling a cough.

“Don’ do that.” He pressed her backward and she gasped, clinging to his arm and letting out an agonized sob at the sharp intake of breath. “‘M sorry,” he rushed. “Love, ‘m sorry. Just sit back for me.”

She let him lower her away from him, eyes still squeezed shut and chin beginning to tremble like it had in the hospital. Her eyelashes were wet and Harry touched his forehead to hers. “Okay?”

“No.”

He let out a short huff of acknowledgment and then lifted the pillow from beside them, holding it tenderly to her chest as he leaned back. “If yeh need to cough just hold this to your chest. ’S still gonna hurt but it’ll be better.”

There was a pause before she wrapped her arms around the pillow and sputtered out a few gentle coughs. Her eyelids fluttered, nails biting into her palms, lips curling into her mouth.

“Melody, yeh don’ have to pretend yeh’re not in fuckin’ pain,” Harry told her, pressing a hard kiss to her cheekbone. He brushed hair away from her forehead, carefully avoiding her bruise, and then used his thumb to pry her lips back into place before kissing them. “Not on my account. ‘M sorry I got angry. I don’ want yeh to fight. But if yeh’re hurtin’ like this ‘m not just gonna tell yeh to suck it up.”

Harry stroked her ear and her tensed facial muscles began to relax. Her lips parted. She opened her eyes to glance up at him and almost immediately let them fall closed again as she began to cry.

“Okay, okay,” he mumbled. He didn’t know whether it was for her or for himself. And he didn’t know if her tears were solely from the pain or for another reason entirely.

The mattress shifted despite his best efforts as Harry climbed off the bed. He hurried into the kitchen, gathering Melody’s prescription, a glass of water, and an ice pack. He almost didn’t even realize he���d forgotten his cane until he was laying himself down beside Melody, who had pulled the pillow up to cover the bottom half of her face, stifling her shallow sobs. But this wasn’t a moment to celebrate.

“All right, love, take some o’ these.” He shook out a few pills and reached across her for the glass he’d put on the night table. She lowered the pillow enough to toss the meds back and swallow a gulp of water, but Harry had to tug it from her grip so he could position the ice atop her angry, swelling bruise. Somehow, he’d finagled her bra over her head before attempting to unwrap her, and her breasts erupted in goosebumps at the cold touch.

“It fucking hurts,” she whimpered out.

“I know, I know.” Harry settled his hand over the ice pack, pressing his lips to Melody’s shoulder. “Give the pills a little bit o’ time.”

He fell silent and stroked her wrist with his free hand until her tears began to ebb. The clock read one in the morning. Bea had gone to bed as soon as they’d gotten home because she needed to work on a group project the next morning. Harry was beginning to feel tired himself, and he couldn’t imagine how exhausted Melody was.

“Just one problem after another,” he finally said. “Just can’ seem to catch a break, can we?”

“Wouldn’t life be so boring?”

He chuckled against her skin. “Just a little break would be nice, though.”

Melody didn’t respond. Her shallow breathing was beginning to slow. Harry kissed her cheek to check that she was truly asleep before he removed the ice pack from her side and very carefully covered her with the sheets. And he hoped that the rest of her healing would pass more smoothly than this first night.

Chapter 12