#if anything dares to ruin my mood this week I will ugly cry at work

[forget-me-ghost]

My friend's little brother called me cool today

Twice

Idk if there's a greater honor than that

[instasiswetrust]

Steve's not quite drunk but there's a pleasant buzz under his skin that leaves him feeling pliant and loose, enough to keep any unsavory thoughts at bay for the time being.

The scent of chlorine and bleach that envelops him once he opens the pool doors, familiar comforts by now, help clear some of the haze of alcohol that has befallen him from his last drink taken at the Auris that night. Or morning. He's not entirely sure.

It brings back the memories that he had been trying so hard to forget. A lavender envelope had been in his mail that day, inside of it an invitation trimmed with delicate filigree. For Nancy's and Jonathan's wedding.

A fall wedding.

The type which he and Nancy had joked about back when they were together, not long before Jonathan had joined them.

He had gone through his work with the kind of detachment that usually meant nothing was truly registering. Adam might have noticed at one point, too attuned already to the tells under the porcelain of Steve's mask, but the memory is fuzzy and he can't remember if he ever gave a proper answer to his manager's concerned query.

As soon as work was done, he had made his way to the Auris in search of something to get his mind off the pain that clutched the shards of his heart like a vice. Or rather, someone. It had been his favorite dancer's day off or something though, leaving him to spend the rest of his night watching the dancers on stage and sipping on the ocassional drink.

Something had made him want to climb the stairs to the gym's pool, though. And that's why he was here now.

"Are you drunk?" The voice that speaks has become familiar in the same way the scent and sounds of the pool has and when he looks up to meet the eyes of its owner, he finds them startled if slightly amused.

"Only a little bit." He shrugs, plopping down by the edge of the pool with his legs crossed under him. The bleach might leave stains on his Levi's but he can't really muster enough energy to give a fuck right now. "'s not that bad."

"You kind of reek of cigarette smoke and whiskey."

Yep. Definitely amused.

"Spilled some scotch on my shirt. The smoke is probably from the cab driver." Another shrug but this time he levels Billy with apologetic doe eyes. "I can leave if it bothers you."

"You're fine, I was just curious." The blonde swims closer, crossing his arms over the edge next to where Steve sits once he's close enough. "First time I've seen you up here wearing something other than your ridiculous pajamas."

"They are not ridiculous!" Steve protests at once, pouting. "And you have seen me in swimwear too!"

"Last week you were wearing bright red shorts that said Bite Me across the ass, and a t-shirt that said Friends don't lie in big bold letters with a heart-shaped waffle at the center." Billy deadpans, raising a single eyebrow. "The shirt was at least two sizes too big for you."

"They were gifts." Brown eyes narrow into a glare but the petulant pout kind of offsets the vibe.

"I thought models were supposed to have taste in clothes."

"We're supposed to look pretty while others dress us. It's not in the job description to have taste."

"So you admit you have no taste then." Billy was giving him that smirk, the one Steve called insufferable but discretly considered hot as fuck. How dare he be so sinfully handsome.

"I said no such thing!" Steve crosses his arms over his chest, tipping his chin up in the perfect picture of snotty petulance. He could already feel the laughs bubbling in his chest, wanting to break the mock facade.

It takes only a second or two of Billy giving him an skeptical look before they are both laughing.

He had missed this kind of easy-going banter. Most of his friends he only saw around the holidays, and the environment at work was more prone to talks about weight loss and botox than anything else.

New York never slept but that only made it all the more lonely.

His sullen mood must've reflected on his face because he feels something poke at his thigh, meeting Billy's eyes when he turns to look at him.

"You didn't just come here so I could make fun of your taste in clothes, did you?"

"I-"

It's only then that Steve realizes Billy is right.

The reason his alcohol fogged brain has preferred to come up here rather than crash into his bed wasn't just some way of punishing himself even further. Not entirely at least. He had come here because it was a place of comfort for him.

And because he had a friend here, too.

"No. Not just that." Steve sighs, letting his eyes focus on the slow movement of the pool water instead of Billy's face.

"Do you..." A moment of hesitation, as if he's not sure about his words. "want to talk about it?"

Brown eyes close, keeping his focus on the in and out of air through his lungs for a few moments until he feels less like he's going to burst out crying the moment he sets these awful thoughts into words.

Makes them all the more real.

"My... exes. They are getting married. To each other." He doesn't open his eyes, doesn't do anything more than try to keep his voice steady even as the aching pain of heartbreak weighs down on his chest. "I received the invitation this morning."

There's a low whistle. It sounds like sympathy. It sounds real.

"That bites," Billy says, and his voice has a dulled edge to it. Commiseration with flavor, or something like that, but it's three am and there's nothing but cold tile and the soft wake of lit water. "Is this ... like a sudden spur of the moment thing?"

When Steve turns doe eyes to him, Billy raises up his hands, only moderately pruned, in an easing gesture.

"You don't have to answer. Just..." A pause. A beat as the swimmer looks for the right string of words. "Just trying to gauge how much of a dick move this is."

There's a laugh, dull and mirthless. A sad little sound.

“We have been friends since high school. All three of us dated for a bit longer after that. We went through some hard stuff together back in Indiana.” He shrugs, keeping his eyes closed. Tears at bay. “Was supposed to be the kind of friendship that lasted even after we broke up.”

It’s all my fault. He doesn't say.

My stupid heart and I. We ruined it all.

It takes a split second of contemplation, because, after all, they're total strangers. But once upon a time, someone gave Billy this sideways kindness and it helped. Maybe Steve and his overly fancy hair won't mind it too much.

So Billy acts on the impulse.

It's a tiny splash. Really very minuscule. Aimed and precise for the minimum impact upon the sitting duck target. But water is water. Nobody can tell tears from pool water.

"You were thinking too hard." He places the excuse on the table, sinking lower into the water, comfortable in this strange company. Even if the guy seems to be at the end of his rope. There's something about him. Like a dream you don't want to forget. "I could see the smoke. Had to cool you down."

The water is warm and yet is still enough of a shock to force Steve's eyes to open.

His first instinct is to protest, say something about the action being rude and uncalled for. Stand up and leave, most likely.

But what he sees in Billy's face — hears in his voice — is enough to give him a moment's pause. To truly appreciate the action for the small kindness it is.

This time when the tears dribble down his cheeks in quiet drops, he has something to hide them behind.

“You really think you're funny, huh?”

And if his voice is a little too wet to be considered normal, they don't have to talk about it.

"I'm hilarious," Billy says as he sinks a little lower into the water, mostly to hide his smug grin, but in part to hide away. "The girl gang that lets me tag along sometimes says so."

“Of course you are.” Steve rolls his eyes, using his fingers to brush back his mostly dry hair. He should probably wash the chlorine out of his hair before going to bed or it would be stiff come morning.

“Is that why you're trying to become a prune? For maximum fun effect?”

“Nah,” Billy waves off the prune comment. He’s hardly started his routine. Pool time ain’t over until everything has that post-workout burn and his stomach begs for food. Makes time easier to keep that way. “I just like to swim.”

Just like Tony Hawk likes to skateboard, he supposes, but understating his profession like this is one of the best parts of the job. Gotta get your kicks when you find them.

“Why? Got something against prunes?” He laughs, “They just want to help you. Healthy stomach, and all.”

“Not particularly, but they do remind me of my Nonna. She likes her prunes.” Another shrug, this time easier. Easy banter is much better than worrying about that little envelope sitting on his coffee table.

The tears have stopped too, the contacts itching slightly against his eyes. Probably from the mix of salt and chlorine. Thankfully, his cardigan is mostly dry and he takes it off to use it as a makeshift towel.

“Is that why you're always here at weird hours? You some sort of pool cryptid or something?”

“That’s only step one of my master plan.”

Billy likes the sound of pool cryptid. Sounds a lot more mysterious and fun than what he’s actually doing, which is training until he drops so the nightmares won’t kick up.

A snort, loud and sudden leaves Steve at that, straining a little in his throat. Mom would say it's undignified. Dad would say it's ugly. He doesn't particularly care either way.

“And pray tell, what would step two entail? Flooding the city?”

Cute laugh, Billy thinks briefly surprised. Much better than seeing the guy choke back tears. Let's see if he can't instigate a bit more of that amusement. It's bound to taste better than the misery the brunette wanted to wallow in.

"What kind of water-based supervillain do you take me for?" Billy, mock-miffed, places a hand over his heart and huffs. "That's so silver-age comics. And you're not even my henchman. Why should I tell you anything about my master plan?"

A finger taps at his chin, seemingly thinking hard about his answer. Steve's not particularly well versed in comics but Dustin’s done his best to keep him on the smallest of loops.

He no longer mixes Superman with Captain America, at least.

“Fair point. You don't have the looks to pass off as Aquaman.” Steve purses his lips, offering his best apologetic doe-eyed look. Although he's definitely bluffing because if there's anybody out there who could give Aquaman a run for his money it would be Billy. “And who says I couldn't be your henchman?”

"Did you fill out the paperwork?"

Everyone knows bureaucracy is the lungs of evil. Or something like that. Sue him, he was never great with metaphors on the fly.

“Honey, if I wanted to fill paperwork I wouldn't have taken modeling as a career.”

It's an exaggeration for the most part. Steve's too used to poking fun about himself these days that it doesn't sting as bad as it used. Not too much.

Billy cocks his head and lets the loaded sentence drop and drift away.

"Then guess you can't be a henchman."

“I can make killer margaritas, though.”

“I don’t really drink too much.” The nightmares get worse when he’s anything but sober. It’s better to be exhausted. It’s the easiest way. “Medication reasons.”

A little white lie that’s hardly a lie, he really shouldn’t drink with his ADHD meds, but who ever listens to that rule? Nah. Only when it suits him.

“Model thing explains your hair though. Glad we solved that mystery.”

“Fair.” Steve offers a smile, crooked and a little pinched at the edges but a smile nonetheless. “I’m not supposed to either. Nutritionist's orders.”

To be fair, he's not supposed to be drinking at all. Smoking too. It's a little hard not to indulge every once in a while, though.

The model comment surprises him. There's a billboard with his face just a few blocks down from this apartment complex. He can see it from his room. How has this guy not recognized him?

It's surprisingly refreshing.

“Hm? Oh no, the model thing has nothing to do with my hair. That's just personal taste.”

Now that Billy cares to look, Steve’s face is achingly familiar. Oh, the trials and tribulations of having attention issues. At least there’s a better reason for the weird familiarity than must just have one of those faces.

“Can’t relate.” He’s not particularly attached to any bodily feature of his. It’s a side effect, he’s told. Reassured. It's just a consequence, and nothing more. “Doing things with hair? Nah. Sounds too complicated.”

“Sounds like the kind of thing a pool cryptid would say.” There’s a story behind Billy's words. Something missing, hidden skin deep. Steve hopes the light jab helps diffuse that somewhat.

“What are you, a cop?” Billy smirks, and because he is the pinnacle of maturity, he dips under the water with an obnoxious splash.

“Asshole” Steve hisses, droplets dribbling down his bangs and into the cardigan bunched up in his lap.

With a sigh, he forces himself to get up. Might as well take that shower now.

Billy surfaces, still grinning, because even if the guy looks pissed at him, that means he’s not stewing in the past with his soon-to-be-married exes and the Hercules-class weight of baggage that relationship caused.

“Guys by the pool get splashed. No matter what time it is or how cute they are. Cryptid rules.” His smirk it's wide, tip of his tongue between his teeth. "If you weren’t prepared to get wet, then why’d you come?”

Steve shrugs, doing his best to ignore that peek of a pink tongue. “The local cryptid makes for good conversation.”

“So you’ve been watching me?” Billy makes a little show of floating back, caught in thought. “I don’t know how I feel about spectators.”

“I can stop.” Painfully honest. If Billy really wants him to, Steve would stop. He would prefer not to, though.

“Nah. I’m only pulling your leg.” Billy returns to the pool’s edge. Rests his cheek on the edge, looking up at pretty boy model Steve.

“Things get too quiet sometimes.”

Steve hums softly in agreement, feeling relief ease itself back into his bones. He would have stopped, yes, but he wouldn't have particularly liked the prospect of it.

“You come here every day? Or have I just happened to stumble in on the days you're around?”

"Almost every day. Sometimes I take this side-show to other pools." Billy cracks his best Han Solo roguish smile, levies it against Steve's still too flat smile. "Gotta keep the government guessing sometimes, you know."

“Of course, wouldn't want to get caught and all that.” A yawn gets past Steve's lips, startling him. He hadn't registered how tired he was. “I’ll keep that in mind, for next time.”

“Thank you.” Quieter. Softer. Barely above a whisper but loud enough in the gentle silence of the pool.

It comes just as soft. It's almost tender, really, as the word casts across the water and tile and the near-lonely pool.

"Anytime."

---

The next time Steve visits, it's once again 3 AM but he makes the mistake (is it really a mistake?) to bring a tin of sugar cookies with him.

"Oh shit, are you sharing, or is this all to tease me?"

Steve is sitting by one of the benches, already halfway through a cookie. “Come out here and find out.”

Billy narrows his eyes, lips pulled into a thin frown.

"Fool me once." He waggles a single warning finger and doesn't even really bother to dry off as he drags himself out of the pool to plop down on the floor next to Steve and steal into the snacks.

There are enough cookies for both of them stuffed neatly in a tin container. It's awfully pretentious according to Dustin, but then again Steve's Nonna always said cookies tasted better stored that way.

“I'm not mean enough to just eat while you watch. Yet, at least.”

"Oh just wait until you know me better." Billy chirps, shoving two into his mouth, wholesale and choking a bit.

"Robin and Carol would do that in a heartbeat."

“They probably would have a good reason too.” Steve teases, watching with amused eyes as Billy almost chokes. They are just sugar cookies he managed to scrounge up with whatever was in his kitchen. Nothing that good.

“Easy there tiger, cookies ain't going anywhere.”

"You have no idea how hungry I always am."

Steve blinks, surprised. The words come out before he has a chance to truly think them over. “I’m a good cook.”

"Prove it." It's out of Billy's mouth before he can take it back, but on second thought, he doesn't really want to. Steve's good company, or at least he has been so far.

And he hasn't had a nightmare since.

Good omens.

“You're kind of choking on the proof right now.” Maybe it comes out a little lighter, a little too surprised.

That's fine. Whatever this thing is, it doesn't seem like too bad of a chance to take.

“But if you need some more convincing, I can offer dinner too.”

Wheezing, but recovering, Billy grins up at Steve but there's a hopeful spark in his blue eyes that wasn't there before. "Fuck yeah, gotta make sure it's not a fluke."

Steve offers him the thermos of coffee he had brought with him, suddenly too distracted by watching Billy drink to remember what he wanted to ask. “Uh... When are you free?”

"This Sunday, I think. Getting back from a rapids trip that I shouldn't keep doing but like fuck am I gonna listen to other people for something dumb like my health."

“Is it like, you could die type of thing or just one of those things doctors say we should stop doing and everyone ignores? Because dead people don't particularly eat.”

"I do dumb shit because regular training gets boring and people who actually like me have to put up with it." Billy waves a dismissive hand. "But that's what it takes to get me moving on schedule so. Yeah."

It drives his coach insane because doing his reps in real rivers with real currents isn't exactly... well. It's not what everyone else does for training and given that he has passed out mid-stroke before, he can't even say the risk is just the current. But he knows that upstate rivers like the back of his hand.

Yeah, life would be way easier if he didn't have ADHD, less doctor's notes for the cause of amphs in his piss, but it would also be super boring and he'd be even more traumatized, probably. And that would suck.

Steve thinks of Indiana, and a bat full of nails. Of cliff diving at the quarry, drunk on stolen bourbon and tasting cheap cigarettes. Of the Auris with his slew of dancers most of who he's shared a bed with more than once.

He thinks he has some experience with the whole doing dumb shit just to get his schedule moving.

"I will take your word for it then." Hums, thinking back to his schedule and what he has paged in for Sunday. There was that casting thing Adam wanted him to do but it was morning. "I should be free on Sunday. Any allergies I should account for?"

“None that I know of.” Spoken cheerfully

“Great. Gives me more to work with.” And this time when he smiles, it's the most honest he's offered since they met.

---

When he finds it again, it is entirely on accident.

Adam had scheduled a trip to California for a gig, something about a new summer line of wetsuits and surfboards this company wanted him to advertise. It was a big opportunity and it was good cash too, of course so Steve wasn't going to question why they thought it a good idea to present a summer line in the middle of august. But as usual, he had forgotten to pack his suitcases until the night before, and now he was left to scramble around his apartment searching for his stuff.

So when he finds the lavender envelope buried under a few recipe books and a hoodie, still unopened, he doesn't think much about it and opens it. It's only when he's staring at the date stenciled in black calligraphy under Nancy's and Jonathan's name that he realizes what he's looking at.

Oh right. Those two were getting married.

The familiar ache in his chest is still there, but it's muted enough that he's surprised. Between canceling his exclusive membership at the Auris, and his relationship with Billy coming out to the media, he had sort of forgotten all about the wedding.

Maybe...

Grabbing his phone from the bed, he shoots his boyfriend a quick text.

How do you feel about being my plus one to my exes' wedding?

[constancelaufeydottir]

Help me, help you

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: Attempted suicide, mentions of mental illness and eating disorders, angst, fluff(?)

Summary: You seek help from the stranger who saved you the night you sought for an escape, maybe you weren’t the only one who needs saving.

A/N: This is my first ever fic here! I’ve never written anything before and I’m really anxious to put this out here, please bear with me if I make any grammatical mistakes and let me know what you think!

You probably shouldn’t be doing this. They said you’d disappoint your family and people around you would be sad. But the water, it’s tempting. A dive, and your problems would be gone.

To be honest, you don’t think you family cares at all. They’ve got bigger things to worry about, you sister’s engagement, your brother’s enrolment in college. After all, you were the unwanted kid, an accident. The only time you caught your parents’ attention was when you butchered your job interview. You had prepared thoroughly but a stomach bug ruined it all and your parents blamed you for it, saying they always knew you were a failure, a disgrace to the family.

They didn’t even ask where you were going tonight. They never cared unless you had big achievements in your life or maybe when your failure was too huge for them to ignore.

The sloshing of the water is luring you to jump into it. The deep dark waters inviting you to join the others who had succeeded before you. You moved your feet a little towards the edge of the railings, embracing the chilling midnight wind as you closed your eyes. This is the end, you thought, your foot dangling over the railings ready to plummet into the river.

You felt an arm circling your waist and pulling you backwards until your back hit the ground, a palm caging the back of your head, preventing it from hitting the hard ground.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” You heard a deep voice coming from the right side of your body, hands were on your shoulders gently shaking. You blinked a few times, the blinding lights made you wince as you closed your eyes again with your hand shielding them.

The man who saved you helped you sat up, kneeling beside you to ensure your safety. You took time to have a close look at the good Samaritan. His hair was long, stopping a little lower down his ears. Eyes was the colour of the ocean, almost enticing as the water. His chin adorned with a scruffy beard, lips curving in a small smile. If it weren’t for your bad mood right now, you would have joked that he looked like a modern version of Jesus.

“Why?” You whispered, so quietly if not for his enhance hearing, the man wouldn’t have heard you. “Why did you save me?” You cried out, hands trembling as they grasped the collar of his bomber jacket. Your teary face surprised him and your sniffles made his heart tightened.

“I- I can’t let you die!” He exclaimed. The tears in your eyes spilled out again as you collapsed into the stranger’s chest, crying your heart out. He felt the vulnerability in your voice and hugged you tighter, palms meeting behind you and patted your back to comfort you.

You didn’t know how long you sat there crying in the man’s arms. Your tears soaked the dark red Henley underneath his jacket, causing it to stick onto his firm chest but he did not utter a single word, instead opting to calm you down.

You had no idea how you got home, except for the fact that you vaguely recalled ending up in the arms of a certain stranger, the rest was a blur.

You woke up on the couch the next morning, your phone alarm blaring. The hard rectangular metal was digging the soft flesh of your butt and you groggily dig it out of your back pocket turning the alarm off.

There was a sweet smell of pancake wafted from the kitchen and you sniffed at the smell, face scrunching when you didn’t remember having someone over. The thought of someone unfamiliar inviting themselves into your house alarmed you and your hastily got up from the couch, a pillow in your hand as you inched slowly towards the kitchen. Peeking your head around the corner, you found a tall and broad figure in the space, hands fumbling around with something. You couldn’t see clearly who that was, your glasses were in your bedroom the last time your saw it.

You knew the stranger in your house could never be your brother because one, he was an asshole who gave no fucks about his sister’s life and two, your both hated each other’s guts. Your breath quickened as the intruder suddenly turned his head towards your direction. You yelped as you threw the pillow at him, or the general direction where he was standing.

Of course, you missed the target when he walked towards you. “Shit, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die.” You shut your eyes as you heard his footsteps getting closer and closer to you.

“Hey, you’re awake!” You squinted at the man, trying to make out the features of his blurry face. He looked oddly like the guy who saved you on the bridge last night. He moved closer to you when he realized you couldn’t see him clearly. Your eyes widen at the sudden close proximity, your lips were slightly parted. You could feel his breath against your face, his long lashes and that steel blue eyes.

“Y-you!” Instantly, you were conscious of your own appearance, your eyes must have been puffy from last night’s non-stop crying. There were probably still dried tears on your face. Adverting your gaze from his, you looked to the side as you slid out of the slightly awkward situation. Walking towards the counter, you pulled out a wet tissue and wiped your stiff face with it then retrieving the cold spoons you kept in the freezer.

He laughed when you put the spoons on your eyes, you sighed at the cool sensation soothing the puffiness of your eyelids. “Don’t laugh. It’s effective,” you glared at him.

“Alright, alright.” He threw his hands up. “I’m Bucky,” his hand extended outward, waiting for you to shake it. “Y/N.” He smiled, eyes crinkled as you reciprocate the gesture.

He cooked you breakfast, although it was a simple one, you were still grateful.

“Thank you for last night,” you gave him a genuine smile as he was seated across you on the dining table, stuffing his mouth with the pancakes. “It’s nice to see that someone cares.” This time you smile didn’t quite reach your eyes and he caught it.

Grabbing your hand across the table, he looked at you in the eyes with sincerity. “It’s the least I could do.” Taking a deep breath, cautiously he spoke up. “Y/N, I know it’s not my place to say this but seek for professional help if you aren’t feeling fine. Maybe just talk to someone or … go see a therapist.”

“Are you insinuating that I have depression?” You scoffed. Your eyebrows furrowed in annoyance as you snatched your hand from his grasp and crossed your arms in front of your chest defensively.

Depression? No, you couldn’t have had depression. It’s a sign of weakness, you father said. Depression is just a fancy term to describe one’s laziness, that’s what your mother told you.

“I’m not insinuating anyt-”

“Get out,” you interrupted, “get out of my house!” Enraged, you pointed towards the door while snapping at him. How dare he, a stranger suggested that there was something wrong with you.

Sighing, Bucky gave you a taut smile while nodding then placed a piece of paper on the coffee table on his way out. “Here’s my number in case you needed any help.” He paced towards the door opening it, giving you a last glance before leaving.

It’s been weeks now since you yelled at Bucky to get out of your house. You felt bad and deep down there you knew he was right, but the stigma surrounding mental illnesses was extremely terrifying to you. Not to mention what will happen if your family found out. You were a major disappointment in your household already and you definitely wouldn’t want to add a mental illness into the mix.

You were sitting in your office, typing on the keyboard furiously. Honestly you didn’t know why you were still here. This job sucks, even though the salary was high and you’d just been promoted to manager of the department. Chewing on your nails and bouncing your legs under the desk, you felt the need to just leave everything and go home.

The drive home was painful, you simply had no energy to do so but you still had to go home, your only safe place. Taking off your shoes, changing out your clothes, you lied on the bed. Your stomach grumbled, protesting at the lack of food in your system but you just couldn’t get yourself off the bed to make something for yourself. Your mind travelled back to the day you were on that bridge. You didn’t actually seek for death, all you sought for was an escape. An escape from reality, from your parents, from the constant judgements of people surrounding you.

As you closed your eyes, you wished that tomorrow never comes.

Another day, another disappointment. You were still alive, and the world seemed a wee bit duller than before. Skipping breakfast, you went to work as usual, plastering the faux smile on your face which everybody seemed to liked and expected from you. In this workplace, everybody’s gotta put on a façade and that included you but you dreaded the day where there would be a crack in your mask. Until then, you just had to work harder to reinforce it because according to your parents, nobody would want to see the real you, it was unpleasant … and ugly.

“I gotta say. Miss Y/L/N, you are spectacular. Being one of the Y/L/N, I bet it was a lot of pressure but you have done such amazing job, I think your parents would be so proud of you.” A client who was a family friend was seated across you, a wide grin on her face as her face crinkled rambling about how lucky you were being born into a family filled with successful people.

You smiled and thank her for her compliments, cutting the steak your ordered into bite-size pieces. Poking into one of the pieces with your fork, you lifted it up to your lips. Taking a deep breath, you put it into your mouth and instantly you felt like you were about to throw up. Fighting the urge to spit it out, you endured the taste of the meat as you bite at it mechanically. Looking down at your plate of steak, you no longer feel the appetite to consume any more of it.

Everyday you woke up, you wondered how long would it be until the colours faded into grey. Perhaps it was the only thing keeping you alive right now, counting the days until the beautiful hue of the sunsets no longer amazes you; the sight of puppies doesn’t excite you; the thought of having ice cream whenever you can no longer sounds appealing to you.

You should get some help, you really should. Your body was deteriorating, you could feel it. You weren’t in denial anymore; you knew there was something gravely wrong about you. Your body couldn’t afford being in denial. The loss of radiance in your face, the hair and weight loss and most importantly, you couldn’t put on a façade anymore.

Bucky rushed towards your apartment when you called, he could hear how shaky your voice was. He was extremely worried the past weeks even though he had only met you once. Maybe it was because he was in that dark place before and was able to relate or maybe he took a liking to you. He found himself constantly wondering whether you were well and how long would it take for your stubborn ass to call him.

He arrived at your place as fast as he could, probably drove past a few red lights but he couldn’t care less. He was more worried about you that the fine he would have to pay.

Bucky stormed past the hallway, straight to your unit and knocked on the door when he couldn’t open it. He received no response from you and his mind immediately went straight to the negative thoughts. His heart raced as he banged on the door, shouting your name several times.

He was about to break his way into your apartment when he saw the door opened slightly, your tired eyes meeting his concerned ones. He made his way into the space and immediately got the wind knocked out of him when you hurled yourself into his chest.

“Imsorryimsorryimsorry.” You kept chanting your apologies as you broke down in his embrace. You felt as if you were floating in the middle of the ocean succumbing into nothingness and he was the anchor, helping you to stay in one place. He was a mere stranger to you yet he witnessed every vulnerable side of you, if only your family could share the same level of concern as he did.

“Shh, shh. I’m here now,” he guided both of you to the couch with you still tightly in his arms, smoothing a palm on your back gently patting you. You hiccupped, eyes teary while you tried to calm yourself down. The tears however would not co-operate, it was like a broken faucet and no matter what you try it wouldn’t fix itself. “I’m really sorry for lashing out last time.”

He didn’t say anything, only wiped your tears with the sleeve of his sweater instead. Maybe it was the fatigue of crying too much or the absence of food in your body, you drifted into sleep in his arms while he hummed songs to you.

You woke up in the middle of the night when you heard the heavy breaths of the man. Half awake, you blindly reach out for your glasses on the night stand, vision clearer as you saw the door to your bedroom was wide opened. Getting on your feet, you moved towards the source of the noises carefully and realized it came from Bucky who was now thrashing on the couch in your living room.

He was groaning, clutching at his left arm painfully as if it was burned. A sheen of sweat could be seen on his forehead, strays of hair sticking onto the sides of his face. The front of his wife beater clung onto his chest soaked by perspiration. His groans soon turned into agonizing screams as he tossed and turned on your couch. You noticed webs of burn scars littering the expanse of his left shoulder to his arm and felt your heart tightened at the sight of it.

You hastily knelt in front of the couch, hand gripping on his shoulder and his face. “Bucky! Bucky!” His eyes shot open at your voice, flinching at the sight of you. Hands balled into fists in front of his chest, he was ready to take on any attack coming at his way. He visibly relaxed when he broke out of the haze, pushing his hair back with his hand with a bashful look on his face.

His muscles tensed when your hand reached out to his shoulder, but then slackened when you pulled him into a hug. His head fell onto your shoulder as you patted on his back like how he did for you just a few hours ago, ignoring the sweat gliding down his skin.

It must have been hours; the two of you sitting there in an embrace on your couch, not wanting to let each other go after what you both have been through. No one spoke a word and there was only silence in the large apartment of yours. The faint ray of sunlight peeked through the blinds, gleaming into your apartment reminding you to start the day.

He was the one who broke the hug, an awkward silence now surrounding the both of you. “Thank you … for helping me, even though I was supposed to be the one helping you,” his voice was raspy from the groans and moans. “It’s … uh nothing,” you shrugged, dragging your worn body to make some hot chocolate for him even though your body was screaming for you to lay in the bed, rotting your day away.

Your hands trembled as you passed him the mug. “Where’s yours?” Your head tilted at his question, not quite sure what he was asking about.

“Y/N, how long have you not eaten anything?” You turned your head away, not meeting his determined gaze. You wished he didn’t catch the glint of guilt in your eyes, but you knew he did.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He clenched his jaw at your statement.

“You called me, Y/N. You called me because you need help and I can’t help you if you’re not honest with me.” You gulped at his words. His eyebrows were furrowed and it triggered a fear in you; you didn’t want to disappoint him like you did to your parents.

Your lips quivered a little, eyes darting to the carpet. “I couldn’t find the energy to eat, it’s just too much work. These days it’s either eat or shower. Since I don’t have any appetite anymore, I dedicated all the energy to shower then. But I have a feeling that I might not even have the energy to drag myself to take a shower or even get up in the mornings soon. It’s just so tiring, where do people even get those energy from?”

“Well, we’ll deal with it one step at a time, okay?” Bucky tilted your chin up to make you look him in the eyes. You whispered a meek ‘ok’, suddenly tired at the lack of sleep.

He handed you the now warm hot chocolate, a stern stare on his face. “At least have some fluids in your system, please.” His gaze softened when he saw you gulping at the sight of the warm brown liquid, nose scrunched up in disgust.

He noticed your discomfort and gestured you to wait while he went to your kitchen and rummaged around the drawers only to return with a spoon.

“Baby steps, okay? Just 5 spoons of it then we’re done.” You nodded while he passed the spoon to you.

The whole morning was spent with Bucky in the living room, him giving your warm encouraging smiles whenever you managed to swallow a spoonful of the chocolate drink.

“Go get some sleep,” he gave your knee a few light taps before proceeding to pull you off the couch and guide you back to your room, then went back to the couch himself to get some shut-eye.

Sending a message to your assistant that you would have to take a few days off, you didn’t wait until you get a reply and plopped yourself on the bed, once again drifting into sleep hoping tomorrow would be better than today.

[vostokovasmelina]

cold blue eyes.

for anonymous

pairing: thomas shelby x fem!reader

word count: 1.9k

warning: it’s just proper heartbreak, innit? - heavy argument with the overuse of the f-word

request: can i request something with tommy shelby? maybe something where he's got cold towards the reader who's his wife and she tries to ignore it and brush it off but in the end, she approaches tommy about it? so they have a huge fight over it which preferably ends in bittersweet fluff? sorry for getting too specific, but thanks in advance xx

a/n: wow the peaky blinders fans are fucking fast wow this request was so interesting in its own dark way, that it got me thinking about it straightaway. hope you’ll like the angst of it all, even though my writing is straight-up cringy but hey so is tommy so it’s okay xx

Thomas Shelby had never been a man of words. He’d hardly ever used them to express his love for you, and though it was unusual at first, you’d soon got used to his private, mostly physical expression of affection, even in the most gentle ways. In fact, you’d got so used to them over time that it had become your biggest comfort and you couldn’t have imagined life without the reassuring touch of your husband, even if it only meant a warm hand on your shoulder.

However, with time, it had all changed. And it wasn’t even the lack of intimacy in bed that stuck out to you- it was the small gestures that kept getting rare, all the secret brushes of fingers and brief embraces that you had loved so much became basically non-existent. 

At first, you didn’t give it much thought. You knew too well that Tommy had always had off days when the last thing he craved was someone being close to him- even you weren’t an exception. Of course, the first few times it hurt and you tried so hard to understand the reason, but soon realised it would be better for both of you if you just gave Tommy space and time, and let him fall into your embrace once he was ready again. But, much to your pleasure, these times didn’t last longer than a few days and you could easily distract your own thoughts with work, both in and outside the house. Sometimes, you needed that extra time to yourself as well and you knew that your husband would tell you anything you needed to know about.

This is why you had got so concerned after a few weeks of Tommy practically avoiding you any chance he could. He never touched you, not even in bed and completely stopped seeking your gaze when laughing as he used to. At first, you wanted to get close to him, you attended every family meeting the Shelbys had, only to listen to your hudband’s voice, otherwise you wouldn’t have had the chance to hear him talk at all. However, you soon got bored of his attitude and decided it would be for the best to start avoiding your husband as well.

Four difficult months had passed like this. You barely ever spoke a word to each other and most of the questions were answered with a word or a groan. You tried to find out what was wrong with Tommy, you tried to understand his changed behaviour towards you, but once he started coming home later and later, sometimes after you had fallen fast asleep and you started getting suspicious of him having a lover and getting bored of you, you gave up. You didn’t try anymore, you felt like it had already taken way too much of your energy. You put on a mask every morning and only took it off at night, once you were ready to sleep, alone.

You played your role so well that no one even noticed. However, once you stopped going to family meetings and spent much more time in isolation, Aunt Pol started getting suspicious. Once you were alone during breakfast, she slowly put her sandwich down and ask you about it, hitting the nail straight in the head.

“What is the matter with you and Tommy lately? And don’t you dare try to feed me some non-answer bullshit, young lady,” she exclaimed, raising her index finger at you and letting it fall back down slowly.

You gently cleared your throat and looked at the older woman from under your eyelashes, really not being in the mood for this conversation. However, Polly had never had taken ‘no’ for an answer.

“It’s-It’s nothing, Pol. You shouldn’t be worried about us. It’s just a bump in the road, everyone has them. We’ll get over it,” you replied, keeping your voice low even though you two were alone in the whole house.

“Yeah, everyone has them, you two definitely have them but it’s never something this major. You’ve always worked through everything within days. What’s different now?” She kept eyeing you in such a serious way that all the emotions you had managed to bottle up, started breaking through. You couldn’t stand Pol’s gaze for a moment, so you lowered your head just again, pushing away your own breakfast that you had barely touched yet.

“I don’t know, Pol! I would tell you if I knew! I just- I feel isolated, I feel left behind by him, Pol, and I don’t know what to do about it anymore,” you breathed out before your first tear could hit the soft tablecloth. Once it rolled down your cheek, however, there was no stopping. You buried your face in your palms and inhaled deeply, trying to keep yourself from breaking down. Thomas Shelby was just a stupid man who was not worth crying over. Not even if said stupid man happened to be your husband.

You slowly collected yourself with Aunt Pol wrapping a protective arm around your shoulders but still giving you some space by not saying a word.

However, the same time you pulled away from her and she handed you her own handkerchief, you heard the front door open and heavy steps approach the room. Tommy stopped in his tracks as he saw your red and teary eyes, and Aunt Pol took a deep breath before standing up, collecting her hat and basket.

“Great timing as always, Thomas. I’ll need to get some shopping done, you two will have just enough time to sort whatever you haven’t yet, out,” she commented, taking one last reassuring look at you before slamming the door shut behind her.

Tommy took off his hat and put it on the table slowly, lowering his head once you looked up at him. You let out a sarcastic chuckle at the sight.

“Can’t even look at me now, Thomas? I’m your wife, for fuck’s sake! If you have a problem with me, you tell me first!” You were incredibly close to yelling, incredibly close to letting everyone in the neighbourhood know that Thomas Shelby had married a madwoman, but you couldn’t care less anymore. This was getting ridiculous and unbearable, and if you had to do it the ugly way, you would do it the ugly way.

Tommy did take his time to look up at you again and you waited. Some more waiting wouldn’t hurt, right? And it was already a great sign that he hadn’t stormed out of the house yet.

Once he raised his cold blue eyes at you, however, a disturbing feeling ran through you but you didn’t give it any thought. You looked deep in those blue eyes and searched for some, any feeling your husband might have had left for you. You could see he was tired, but you were, too. Tired of living your days avoided by your own husband, the man who had loved you so deeply for years. But you weren’t willing to give up on it any time soon.

“Tommy, please- Just tell me what’s wrong, I can’t take it anymore. It’s been months. Months, Tommy! Do you even understand how difficult it has been?” You whispered, standing up and taking small steps closer to the man you still loved. He looked down at you with his cold expression, and suddenly you realised that disturbing feeling. It was like he was only one step away from letting you go, just one push to ruin everything you had built up together. 

But there was also love in his eyes, even if only a rather small amount hidden behind indifference. That was what you held onto, what you wanted to save no matter how hard it all hurt.

“Difficult? For you? Sitting comfortably at home all day, not having to be worried about death lurking in every corner? Congratulations Y/N for having survived all these months! You’re a hero!”

You raised a hand to slap him without even thinking about it. You only realised what you were going to do when you felt Tommy’s fingers wrap around your wrist to keep you from hitting him, your husband letting you go once he saw you had changed your mind. However, it didn’t change the weight of his words.

“I’ve been through all that, too, you know that! I’ve been through it all and worse but once I settle down and keep my hands clean of blood, I’m just a weak fucking woman in your eyes, right? Well guess what, you’re fucking wrong, Thomas Shelby!” You were yelling now, eyes filling with tears just again and you didn’t care about them staining your cheeks anymore. You were so angry that you couldn’ve burnt the whole house to the ground if it was your property.

Thomas lowered his eyes again and you were sure he was thinking about what you had just said. And he had no answer to that.

“Yeah, damn right. I might not be a fucking Shelby, but it’s not just you lot who have to carry their baggage around or have to fear for your lives. When will you understand that?” You continued. completely outraged at your husband’s constant indifference to your words. You wanted him to react, you wanted to hurt him with your words, so he would finally get what it had been like for you. But Thomas Shelby was a cold man, mostly keeping to himself and you were afraid weren’t going to get that kind of pleasure from him any time soon.

You closed your eyes and kept them shut for a few seconds, letting the heavy silence wrap around both of you, calming you down and making Tommy finally say something. When he cleared his throat, you opened your eyes just again to be met by his.

“I’m sorry. I truly am. I don’t- I don’t even know what got to me. I just- I’ve had a stressful time and I did what I always do, but I took it too far this time,” he finally said in a low husky voice, reaching out for your hands. Once his cold fingers intertwined with your warm ones, you let out a sigh and leant your forehead against your husband’s. “Can you forgive me?”

“Of course I can forgive you. Just please, don’t do this to me, ever again. I was starting to think you might not love me anymore, that you keep a mistress or-”

“A mistress? Y/N, seriously?” He questioned, a small smile lurking in the corner of his mouth as you punched his shoulder playfully.

“Stop it, Thomas. I’m bloody serious. I really did think-,” you inhaled deeply before you continued. “I really did think you had no love left for me anymore,” you blurted out, shutting your eyes once more because you just couldn’t stand Tommy’s gaze now.

He let silence settle in the room before grabbing your waist and pulling you in for an embrace you hadn’t had in an awfully long time. You wrapped your arms around your husband’s neck as if you were holding onto life and felt the shivers running down your spine when his breath tickled the sensitive skin on your neck. Tommy pulled you in even closer and he was not going to let you go any time soon. 

“I only have love left for you, Y/N.”

[ididntneedanewfandom]

BakuDeku Winter Week 1 - Reparations

"I'm home."

There's no reply to Katsuki's words. Granted, they were quiet enough that they might have gotten lost under the music playing softly in the living room. It's been a long day and he's too tired to even speak at his usual volume. The 'heroing' part of the day went fine; it's filling out forms afterward that completely fries his brain. He thought he was done with useless paperwork when he graduated from U.A.. No such luck. And to top it all, the unseasonable spring heat has been horrendous. It's helpful for his quirk, sure, but after a point it's just oppressive.

He's late enough that he'd have expected dinner to be waiting for him, or to have received a request from his nerd to pick up takeout on the way home. But there are no yummy smells to greet him--not even burnt ones as sometimes happen--and it looks like if he wants food he'll have to work on that himself. Any other night it'd be fine, but he's tired enough that the prospect isn't all that appealing.

Although...

That deep-seated tiredness seems to melt away when he walks into the living room to find Deku reclining on the couch with his back to the armrest and one of his notebooks propped up on his raised knees. He's wearing that too big, slightly misshapen wool sweater in All Might's costume colors, the one Katsuki always teases him about. How he can bear to wear that warm thing in this weather, Katsuki has no idea.

"Used to be, you'd be all over me when I walked in the door," Katsuki says with a mock-wounded look as he approaches the couch. "I guess the honeymoon phase is over, huh?"

Deku blinks those big eyes up at him a couple of times.

"Oh, hi Kacchan," he says with a small smile. "I didn't hear you come in."

Katsuki snorts. That much was obvious. Climbing over the end of the couch, he crawls up to Deku, pushing his knees apart to settle between them, unceremoniously dropping the notebook and pen he takes from Deku to the floor.

"Hey, wait, I was--"

Katsuki silences what was coming next by pressing his mouth to Deku's. He suddenly feels a lot better, but there's still room for improvement.

He lifts his mouth and body off Deku's just enough that he has room to tug at the sweater to get to the delicious, warm skin beneath.

"Kacchan, please be careful," Deku mumbles.

"Careful about what? You're not as breakable as you used to be."

Even with Deku helpfully lifting his hips to free the bit of sweater stuck under his ass, Katsuki has to work hard to get it off him. It's caught underneath him, but one last tug--

"What... What was that?”

Deku sits up properly now, dislodging Katsuki from his lap even as he reclaims the sweater from him with shaky hands, a steady stream of "No, no, please no" rising from his lips.

"What's gotten into you?" Katsuki asks, frowning.

"It felt like..."

He falls silent as his fingers find the large rip on the back, longer than Katsuki's hand, multiple strands of frayed wool hanging loose. His expression is one of pure grief; Katsuki's stomach twists unpleasantly.

"I asked you to be careful," Deku murmurs, and Katsuki knows that tone of voice. Years ago, it'd have been accompanied by tears. Deku doesn't cry so much anymore... But it doesn't make things any better when he's really upset. He just clams up, and fuck knows what Katsuki can do to fix it when it happens.

"It's just a cheesy old sweater, " he mutters. "I'll get you one from my merch line. Better quality and better colors."

His pointed look dares Deku to protest that--they once spent a very pleasant night arguing about costume colors in between rounds of fucking, and Katsuki wouldn't mind a repeat. But when he crawls back up Deku's body again, when he slides a hand over Deku's ridiculously tight abs, Deku slaps his hand away and shimmies out from under Katsuki until he can stand, still clutching the mangled sweater.

"It was Toshinori's," he says in a cold voice, glaring at Katsuki.

It's so rare to see Deku direct actual anger toward him that Katsuki's old defenses go back up instantly. Stinging words fall from his lips before he even knows he's speaking.

"Stealing from other people's closets? And here I thought you only stole my clothes. I guess I'm not that special, huh?"

Deku's gaze hardens just a little more, and Katsuki almost expects lightning to start coursing over his body. His voice is cold enough that it could put IcyHot's quirk to shame.

"He gave it to me. It was sample merch that never got mass produced because it was handmade and too complicated to bring to market. He kept it because he said it fit him in both his forms. He thought I'd get a kick out of having it in my collection, so when he was cleaning up his things before ... He gave it to me. And you just ruined it when I asked you to be careful. But it's not like you've ever cared about my stuff anyway, is it?"

It hurts.

It hurts because it's true--or was true. Watching Deku walk away, listening to his heavy feet and the banging of their bedroom door, Katsuki can't help but remember other instances when he broke or destroyed Deku's things just because he could. The fact that today it was an accident doesn't make it any less his fault.

Katsuki groans and runs a hand over his face. He really fucked up.

He'd like nothing more than to follow Deku and not let him walk away from him--how things have changed… But then what? 'Sorry' doesn't feel like it'd be nearly enough, and Katsuki doesn't know what else he's supposed to say.

Tired steps take him to the kitchen. He stands in front of the open fridge for a while before pulling out the ingredients for katsudon. He's really not in the mood to cook, but he doesn't know what else to do.

He's just about done frying the pork and already filling up two bowls when slow steps come up behind him. He glances back at Deku, who stands there in a t-shirt inscribed with the words 'boyfriend shirt', his hands in his pockets.

"I'm so--" he starts, but Katsuki doesn't let him finish.

"Swear to god, Deku, if you try to apologize I'm shoving my foot up your ass."

Deku frowns at him.

"That's what grow-ups do, Kacchan. When they say something ugly or something they don't mean, or when they do something they shouldn't, they apologize."

"And what good does that do?" Katsuki mutters as he tops the bowls of food with the pork cutlets and places both on their small kitchen table. "Words won't knit your sweater back together. Sit down."

Taking his own advice, he draws a chair and sits. He fiddles with his chopsticks until Deku sighs and sits across from him.

"Itadakimasu," he says quietly, his eyes on his food.

Katsuki grunts in reply and watches him take a couple of bites before he asks, his voice tight and low, "Can it be repaired?"

Deku shrugs a little, and briefly looks up.

"I doubt it. It's a big rip. It's my fault, I noticed a loose bit of wool before and I didn't do anything about it. I should have fixed it then."

And it's just so completely <i>Deku</i> to take the blame for something that wasn't his fault that Katsuki doesn't know whether he wants to kick him or kiss him. In the end, he lightly kicks his shin under the table, and when Deku glares up at him, he mumbles, not quite meeting Deku's eyes even as his cheeks heat up, "'M sorry. For ripping your sweater and for what I said."

Deku's foot finds his again for something that feels more like a caress than a kick.

"The food's delicious," he says softly. "Thank you."

And Katsuki knows he's forgiven--just as well as he knows he doesn't deserve to be. Not yet.

*

Seven months later

This year again, they set up a Christmas tree.

All right, so Izuku sets up a Christmas tree while Kacchan sits there and watches. At least this time he doesn't say it's a silly tradition, though he did insist that Izuku only set it up the night before Christmas. Seeing how busy they've both been lately, Izuku doesn't think he'd have found the time to set it up sooner regardless.

And besides, Kacchan never said when it's got to come down...

Izuku just likes the lights twinkling when the room is dark at night. And he likes finding hero-themed ornaments to hang from the branches. He has four All Might ones on there, each in a different costume. He doesn't despair of finding one for EraserHead someday. He has a Froppy one and a Uravity one--they're not licensed merch, just handmade figures created by a fan he found online. He's got an official Shouto ornament--well, really it's a collectible figure meant to sit on a shelf, Izuku just looped a bit of string around Shouto's outstretched hand... and he makes sure to hang it way in the back, so Kacchan won't roll his eyes and pout every time he looks at the tree.

There's also a licensed Dynamight ornament on there, and Izuku makes sure to put it front and center. Kacchan absolutely loathes it, because whoever sculpted it gave him a smile--a nice, soft smile, the kind of smile Izuku is the only one lucky enough to receive. Which is why Izuku loves it. And why he bought seven of them, the replacements stashed in a secure place just in case this one 'mysteriously' disappears.

After hanging up another handful of ornaments--they're minor heroes, but Izuku has had the chance to work with each of them--he stands back to admire his work. A little behind him, Kacchan grabs a fistful of his t-shirt and pulls until Izuku, laughing, stumbles back and into his lap. Kacchan's arms immediately wrap around him, holding him where he is--not that Izuku has any other place to be.

"What do you think?" he asks happily, watching the multicolor lights blink on and off randomly.

Kacchan grunts. "Don't think I didn't notice you hiding Candycane in the back. You should put a real candy cane on there, it'd look nicer."

Clucking his tongue, Izuku taps the thigh underneath his own.

"Be nice," he admonishes. "Or I'll put two of yours on there."

A huff against the base of his neck sends shivers down Izuku's spine.

"It doesn't need another one of me on there," Kacchan mutters. "But it could use one of you."

Izuku wouldn't mind, but his agency isn't like Kacchan's. They don't really do merch there--which Izuku is fine with, he agrees with his boss that the important part is to be a hero, not to sell stuff, and he's about to remind Kacchan of that when something small and green dangles in his peripheral vision. With some difficulty, he lifts his eyes from the tree and looks at...

Himself.

Or, well, a version of himself.

The figure dangling from Kacchan's fingers on a silver string is just three or four inches tall, but the details on it, from the costume to the pose to the expression on the face, are all exquisite. Whoever sculpted this--is it clay? It looks like glazed clay--did an awesome job.

And gave Izuku an absolutely feral expression.

Izuku doesn't know whether to laugh or squeal or just turn around and kiss Kacchan.

"It's a little Deku!" he exclaims, then laughs as he takes the figure in his hands. "A really angry little Deku!"

"Bet he's angry because Dynamight has been hanging in that tree with all these extras without him. You should put him up there."

Izuku is happy to do so, but not before turning In Kacchan's lap and stealing a kiss... or maybe even two.

Then he practically bounces to the tree and carefully hangs up his figure next to Kacchan's. They're the same size and fit perfectly together. It makes Izuku wish they'd get to fight side by side more often. Maybe some day, he thinks wistfully, they'll open an agency together. They've talked about it a few times, but they're still rookies, barely out of school, and while they technically <i>could</i>, they both agreed it was too soon.

"I love my present, Kacchan," Izuku says as he turns back to his boyfriend. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Kacchan says, "but it's not your present. This is."

His fingers drum on the top of the plain white box that definitely wasn't next to him on the couch just a second ago. Izuku tilts his head, wishing one of his quirk was X-ray vision or something. His fingers itch and he doesn't dare take a step forward.

"Do you want to put it under the tree with yours?" he says softly.

Kacchan shakes his head.

"Come here," he says. "Open it."

Izuku doesn't move.

"But Christmas is only tomorrow," he protests, his voice sounding weak even to his own ears.

Kacchan's lips stretch on a wicked grin. "Have it your way. I'll open it, then, and keep it for my--"

Before he can finish or slide his fingers under the edge of the box, Izuku plops himself back down on his lap and draws the box onto his knees. Laughing, Kacchan encircles his waist with his arms again and rests his chin on Izuku's shoulder, watching as he lifts the top of the box and reveals a familiar pattern and colors: All Might's costume.

It takes a good two or three seconds before Izuku recognizes the equally familiar ridges of knitted wool. His breath catches in his throat and he very slowly, very carefully lifts what he knows is a sweater out of the box.

It's his sweater. He knows it is, because there's a small, black spot of indelible ink near the collar; it was already there when Izuku got it.

It's the sweater he's kept in the bottom drawer of his dresser for the past few months, unable to wear it anymore without aggravating the rip but unwilling to put it away for good.

But when he turns it around, the rip is gone. And if Izuku didn't know exactly where to look, he probably wouldn't notice the repaired area. Everything matches, from the color of the wool to the pattern of the knitting. The only thing is that the wool seems a little newer in that area, less fuzzy than the rest, but that's only because Izuku knows what he's looking at.

"Kacchan," he breathes, but doesn't know what else to say.

"Is that all right?" Kacchan asks, his voice tight. "I mean, I know I should have asked first before touching your stuff, but then it'd have ruined the surprise."

"It's..." Izuku's throat feels too tight. He clutches the sweater to his chest. "It's perfect. Thank you."

After Kacchan kisses the back of his head, he manages to ask, "But... how? I looked for shops that repair knitted things but I didn't find anything."

Kacchan mumbles something; Izuku isn't quite sure he hears right. "You... what?"

"I learned to knit," Kacchan repeats a little louder, sounding embarrassed of all things. "My parents work with this old woman sometimes, she knits samples of their designs for them and then they have factories recreate the stuff. I asked her if it was fixable, and when she said yes I asked if she'd teach me how. I wanted to have it ready for your birthday but that shit took longer than I expected. I just finished last week."

Izuku understands all the words individually but he struggles to make sense of them all together. Shifting on Kacchan's lap, he turns to look at him, and is surprised to find him red-faced.

"You learned to knit?" he asks, unable to keep an edge of awe from his voice.

"I messed up your sweater," Kacchan mutters. "Wanted to fix the damn thing." Rather than looking at Izuku, he rests his forehead against Izuku's collarbone and talks against his t-shirt. "There's a lot of stuff I can't fix, but that, at least--"

Izuku has heard enough. Holding the sweater close with one hand, he cups Kacchan's face with the other and kisses him within an inch of his life. Soon, Izuku is wearing his sweater again. The lights of the tree keep twinkling, but Izuku only has eyes for Kacchan.

[simplyshelbs16xoxo]

‘This Love Came Back to Me’ Chapter 2: This is London

Ao3 | Buy Me a Coffee?

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.

               Being in London again, amongst the bustling streets and busy lives, had Molly in a state of wistfulness. She had been homesick since the day she left and her stomach knotted with deep-seated guilt and regret. It mystified her how this city seemed to scream his name. When she thought of London, she didn’t think of the usual things—the Thames, Buckingham Palace, Trafalger Square, or even Big Ben with its comforting chimes—but she always thought of Sherlock Holmes. He was forever connected to this place much more intimately than anything or anyone else she could think of. And connected to him was the sense of home. She had felt her heart leap in joy when she stepped off the plane.

               And now, looking up at the street sign, Molly let out a shaky breath. She had once promised herself she would never grace this very pavement if she ever lost him. And yet she found herself on Baker Street once more. In her hands were the results of their findings, and she sincerely hoped he would be cordial with her, though she knew she didn’t deserve such a kindness. 221B stared down at her as if daring her to cross the threshold, to recall her memories here, to once again face the man who lived in it, and at one time with her.

               Molly took each step with trepidation. She wished to not upset him any further, but it couldn’t be helped. Never did she think her actions would have hurt him, for she hadn’t thought he truly felt for her what she felt for him. Her presence was difficult for him and Molly hadn’t a clue how to steer clear. Being put on a case together had made matters complicated. One deep breath and she knocked lightly against the worn wood. She made out a couple of voices including his own. He must have been with a client. Turning on her foot to leave, the door was yanked open, causing her to turn back towards it, towards him.

               “Oh,” he frowned, disappointment clear on his face. “It’s just you.”

               She swallowed the lump in her throat. His callousness tore at her rapidly beating heart. “I brought some of the results for you to look over. You’ll find that there is a particular feature of interest that may turn out to be a lead.”

               Sherlock studied her with curious eyes that narrowed when he met hers. He removed the report from her hands and looked it over. “Very good, then. It looks like Mike is no longer in need of your services.”

               Molly opened her mouth to protest, stepping forward to follow him inside, but he had quite firmly slammed the door in her face before she could utter a syllable.

                When Sherlock turned his back to the slamming door, he was met with Mary Watson’s chiding expression, an eyebrow raised high. “Was it really necessary to do that?”

                “She’s the one who decided to leave,” he replied like a five year old.

                “Yes, well, that may be true, Sherlock, but I thought you wanted an explanation from her, hmm?” Mary crossed her arms, tapping her foot with impatience. “I don’t agree with how she handled things, but I hardly think it necessary to act like children.” She briefly recalled hearing about their argument in the morgue the day before.

                “I’ll stop when she does.” Sherlock was in no mood. He hadn’t seen her in years until yesterday. Molly Hooper broke his heart, betrayed his trust. He told her he loved her, and she ran away. “I once thought she loved me—but, I see now that I was wrong.”

                “She did love you, Sherlock,” Mary argued.

                “Could’ve fooled me,” he huffed. It wasn’t as if she had said the words back.

                “I think you and Molly can work things out—you’re both stubborn, and that causes a lot of damage with situations like yours. One of you needs to be the bigger person,” Mary advised. “I know you’re hurting, but this week could change things. Try to make the best of it.”

                Sherlock sighed. “I won’t make any promises, but I’ll try.”

.

.

               It was official: Molly Hooper hated herself for what she did to Sherlock. If she could, she knew she would go back when things were okay and do things right. Instead of listening to her doubts and allowing herself to be persuaded into leaving, Molly would have said the words back. She would have told him what she had feared. They would have talked through it and they would still be together now. She was sure of it. He could no longer stand the sight of her. The man who held high disregard of emotions—and for good reason—gave her his heart, and she ruined him.

               The next five days in London would be torture, but she had it coming to her. This was the universe biting her back in the arse for what she had done. Molly, upon returning to her hotel room, decided to take a soak in a bubble bath to calm her nerves. Hair up in a messy bun, she sank down into the warm sudsy water, leaning her head back with her eyes closed, unable to keep herself from remembering how it used to be.

               “I don’t want to lose you,” she whispered in his ear. Sherlock had drifted off, but he still held her tightly in his arms. It was as if he was afraid to let go. Molly could still feel the ghost of his love all over her body, through her, inside her. In truth, she had never been so happy. But then, why did she feel so scared?

               If he were to ever wake up one day and realise this wasn’t what he wanted, Molly promised herself she’d never walk Baker Street again. Hell, she probably wouldn’t be able to stomach staying in London if he ever walked away. Or if, God forbid, she ever did. She couldn’t keep her eyes off him, his expression one of complete serenity. It made him look ten years younger. Molly pressed her lips to his neck, leaving a trail of soft, warm kisses for him. She heard him moan quietly in his sleep, and it made her smile. God, she loved him so much, her heart ached. What was it about those eight letters that were so overwhelming, so daunting? Maybe one day she’d be brave enough to say them.

               The visions in her head never stopped. There wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t think about him, about their love, magical as it was. For the first time since she arrived back in London, Molly allowed herself to cry; to grieve for them, for the man she had hurt. All she wanted to do was take away his pain, but he’d never allow her close enough to do that. Never again.    

.

.

               After a brief conversation with Mike the next day outside the morgue, Sherlock, she noticed, was fast approaching her. Molly braced herself for his scathing remarks, her whole body tensing up as if his words caused her physical pain. Instead, he shoved the manila envelope toward her, insisting she take them back. “Were my findings not to your liking then?” she asked, somewhat feeling put-out.

               “On the contrary, Doctor Hooper,” he replied, taking a moment to swallow his pride, “what you discovered is most fascinating.”

               Taken aback at the change of attitude, Molly questioned him with her eyes, her mouth slightly agape. “Yes, well, it seemed odd that our murderer went through all of the trouble of making a bloody mess of his victims when his real M.O. was a nearly undetectable poisoning.”

               Sherlock nodded. “He’s trying to keep us from profiling him correctly. He’s clever, but not as clever as you.” He felt his face flush, mentally cursing his traitorous body.

               Her eyes met his in a brief remembrance of the love they once shared. My clever Molly, he had taken to saying whenever her intellect shone through like a bright star. The man who had once admired her was still there somewhere deep down. She hoped so, anyways. As soon as the spark was there, it was gone, the air somehow colder than it had been. “If that’s all you came here for…I believe you have a murderer to catch.”

               “Wait,” he began, taking a small step forward. “It has come to my attention that I’ve been, for lack of a better word, an arse. We should be able to at least be cordial whilst working this case together.” Sherlock had a hard time meeting her eyes. “I’m…I apologise. You really are the best for the job.”

               Never had Molly felt more uncomfortable and undeserving of an apology. She gazed at him with soft, sorrowful eyes. “Thank you,” she uttered in a small voice. If he hadn’t looked so uncomfortable, himself, she wasn’t sure if she could’ve found the strength to reply. She wanted to apologise for leaving him, beg him for his forgiveness, but fear—a different kind; one of rejection—stopped her. The awkward silence was deafening and she was thankful when Greg interrupted them.

               “There’s been another body, Sherlock. Here’s your chance to go to the scene and—Molly? That you?” Greg grinned happily, going in for a hug.

               “It’s been an age,” Molly told him, her guilt eating her up inside. At least he didn’t appear to be angry with her.

               Sherlock stood by with his hands behind his back, jealousy rearing its ugly head, his stomach knotting tightly. He watched as Greg gave her a quick peck on the cheek and it took all his strength not to lash out. There was no way he could deny his feelings any longer—he still cared for Molly, still loved her despite everything, but it was clear she had moved on. He had been so lost in his thoughts that he only caught the tail end of Lestrade’s question.

               “—with us?”

               “Oh, I—well, I don’t think I should,” Molly answered, glancing at Sherlock. “It’s probably best I stay behind.”

               Greg knew things were strained between them—he had even been on the receiving end of her lack of communication. He nodded in understanding, not wanting to push her into it. “Suit yourself. How long are you here for?”

               “Just until the end of the week, then back to Galway,” she informed him. The words tasted bitter on her tongue.

               Galway, Sherlock thought. So that’s where she ran off to. It was where her grandmother was from—her father’s mother. It should have been blaringly obvious, but he had kept himself from thinking too much about it.

               “Well, do us all a favor, and phone us once in a while…yeah?” He clapped Sherlock on his back, including him in that statement.

               She nodded. “Of course.” Her eyes met Sherlock’s briefly. Never did she want to let him down again. “You have my word.”    

[vminity21]

Perhaps, By Chance | jjk

Pairing: Jeongguk x Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Genre: fluff, soft

Warning(s): mild angst involving a past relationship

Summary: When a night is ruined as you denyingly anticipated, a chance encounter from a kind stranger changes everything, perhaps for the better.

The message came in the middle of a busy day at work, panicking your steps and reacting in the form of, “My ex just texted me,” in front of your boss and fellow co-worker, Monica who creased her eyebrows momentarily at your random statement. Stunned doesn’t even begin to help gather words, especially when three years of silence decided to end over an app you never thought your ex would happen to discover. Three years. Majority of that time involved healing, and potentially searching for the right one to come along, but as the days passed, you eventually gave up on the idea of love, because according to your ex-boyfriend, he’s apparently the only man who will ever love you.

“You and I both know that’s nowhere near the case, my friend,” Monnie gestured an invisible slant, slipping into her coat after clocking out; the pair of you paraded outside, nearing your vehicles, but of course, she was going to make sure you were okay before driving home, and though your heart was still thudding to the anxiety rising, you’re thankful she’s someone that you could lean on. “After everything you’ve told me about him, I would not give him the time of day.”

“I just… I don’t know,” you pressed your fingertips upon the bridge of your nose, wishing you would calm down, “Why in the world would he message me after all this time?”

“He asked about your old car, right?”

“Oddly enough, yeah,”

“And, you told him no, that you do not have it anymore, correct?”

“Of course,”

“Okay, well, you’ve said enough, now you can block him, … Again,”

But, you don’t. Because now, you are pacing along the creaking floor of your apartment, gnawing on your nails because your ex-boyfriend will be taking you out to dinner after a few weeks of catching up. An uneasy feeling settles in the pit of your stomach, especially when memories of the break up spin profusely within your brain; the only thing you can’t seem to ignore is the strange hope that maybe he’s changed- maybe he will even apologize for the times he verbally abused you and created accusations he evidently had been guilty of the entire relationship- maybe he will want to start over and make things right again now that he potentially may be aware of what he lost when you left him.

You haven’t mentioned anything to your friends or your family of the evening in fear of what they would say, and though the guilt weighs heavy, you take in a deep breath, promising yourself that you can handle this. It’s been three years for crying out loud, you would think by now he would have found some ounce of motivation to become a better person.

You nearly jump out of your skin when the sound of the doorbell disrupts your million questions. Your lips part along with your widening eyes- splaying your hands along your outfit to smooth any wrinkles visible. As dramatic as a scene in a movie, your fingertips slowly reach for the doorknob before you gulp- opening the door to a bouquet of your favorite flowers, “Oh wow!” Not what you expect, but you immediately collect the bouquet from him, getting a better view of his face.

“You look beautiful,” he compliments, looking you up and down, the strong smell of his sharp cologne brushes your nose, and you observe the detail of him styling his hair the way you used to like it.

“Th-thank you,” you stammer, briefly entering the kitchen to where the flowers will lay until you return home for the evening. You prepare yourself for him to invite himself inside, but to your confusion, he does the opposite, holding out his arm for you to interlock with his, “Shall we?” There’s a small smirk that curls at the end of his lips that you slowly realize you haven’t missed, and the bizarre feeling rears its ugly head again, yet you stubbornly ignore it, flashing your ex a timid grin before waltzing to his car.

“You still into that artist? The one you would obsess over when we first went out?” The question is meant to be a conversation starter, and you, unfortunately, avoid this artist to prevent the negative memories the music brings involving your ex, and although you don’t want to lie, you make the split decision to play dumb.

“Uh, who?”

Your ex chuckles, “I remember this was our song.” Oh no, you inwardly cringe, the familiar strum of the guitar echoes within the space while you attempt to contain your composure. Which then leads to your current thought, why are you doing this? It’s then that you pray for the car ride to be quick considering you have not an idea where your ex is taking you for the evening getaway. Miraculously, you tune out as many songs that have played before you recognize that he’s pulling into the parking lot of your favorite restaurant that sits in front of a strip mall you tend to frequent when in the mood for a shopping spree. You’re not taken aback by the choice of food because it happens to be your favorite place to eat in general, and before you know it, the two of you are seated by the host, your ex ordering exactly what you always consume here.

You’re impressed by his memory, you will give him that, and while the dinner progresses, so does small conversation that forces you to only contemplate positive thoughts, especially when you notice a glimpse in his eyes that he wants to ask you something, but decides against it. Only as far as you’ve allowed it, he’s aware of your graduating college and obtaining your degree, traveling to places you’ve always dreamed of going, and meeting some of your favorite actors that happened to be visiting your town, and only vague dating stories have been mentioned since that’s something you want to avoid like the plague.

Forks clink along the plates when dinner is served, yet your mind is still foggy. Regarding the question that seems to be budding with him, you wonder if it will be something romantic for once, or maybe he will ask how you’ve actually been the past three years, or maybe he will finally apologize for his wrongdoings and how much he has missed you as well as the lessons he’s learned since losing you. Maybe he will talk about adventures you always dreamed of going on that you haven’t been able to venture yet, or maybe he will see the person you have always been and will love you the way that you deserve to be loved.

But that ship sails out the window, because the dinner is soon finished and the two of you are heading to his car with all your confusion still left unanswered. Something feels so wrong as if you’re not supposed to be here, and by here, you mean with him. While your fingers naturally curl along the seatbelt with the intention to buckle yourself in, it loosely slips from your fingers- your ex getting comfortable in the driver’s seat.

He clears his throat, and you’re frozen stiff, “So… I have a question for you,” the tone of his voice strews uncomfortable memories- the ones where he would become controlling, talking down to you as if you were continuously the root of any situation, and it’s the first you’ve heard him speak like this since the evening began. “I really need to know, and if you really want this to work out, then you’ll answer me,”

Your mouth opens, but your words pause, “I-”

“So… I know you mentioned that one guy Namjoon, but… How many people have you been with since you know… We broke u-”

SLAM!

Your ex is replied to by the heavy SLAP of the passenger door shutting behind you. Nostrils flaring causes the burn from the freezing air to puff white clouds into the atmosphere, you determinedly stomp to the front of the restaurant, anger boiling across your chest. Screeching tires zoom across the lot behind you, and with fresh tears streaming down your face, you curse under your breath while your heart shatters in disappointment not only with how the evening turned out but towards yourself for being so naïve. How dare he try and manipulate you into feeling bad for things that had nothing to do with him? And since when did your personal dating life interfere with the decision making on whether you want to work things out or not? Striding back and forth across the cement, you mutter sporadically, fingers raking through your frigid strands in panic before frantically fumbling for your cellphone to call your mother.

Where in his mind did, he think it was his business to know about the relationships you may or may not have had after the breakup, too? Though you know he was more so referring to physical intimacy, how is that any of his business at all? And yes, there was a swift love affair with a man named Namjoon back in college before he returned to serve in the army, but you haven’t heard from him in ages, and he is much better looking than your ex which now you regret not saying that portion out loud for your ex to hear, but one lesson you have learned from many experiences in life is that the best revenge is silence. And, you are proud of yourself for biting your tongue before you blurted something you would wish you hadn’t said.

Your mother’s voicemail is what you receive the two times you called, prompting silent sobs to soak your cold cheeks, “C’mon, mom, c’mon,” you beg, and with your racing heart and desperation for a ride, you decide to collapse upon a small bench seated in front of the restaurant with your face now buried into your hands. You need to breathe, you tell yourself, Mother is at work and is busy and you need to breathe.

There’s a soft trail of footsteps from concerned, umber eyes that have observed you from a distance after the skidding tires that woke the town up had halted him in his tracks. He’s not one to typically check on an individual he doesn’t know, but the frenzied way you appear, he can’t just leave without ensuring that you’re okay.

When he pauses a few feet away from you, his hands are cuddled into his front pockets, hair nestled into a black beanie while his shoulders scrunch from the chilly breeze that happens to nip his nose. Your face is still buried within your hands, but your ears are still perked from the knowing of someone being present.

“Hi,” the voice is soft and belonging to a male specimen, and you’re mildly relieved that it is not the voice belonging to your ex-boyfriend who essentially left you here without a second thought. Gradually raising your head, some of your hair sticks to your clammy cheeks before you swipe them away. If you had been standing, the wind would have knocked you from under your feet, especially with the face you’re now staring at that, holds timid eyes mirroring the way his thin lips are slightly ajar, and the defined line of his jaw is shaped into such a handsome sculpture- one you haven’t seen in what feels like forever.

“H-hi,” you stutter, shaking your head in embarrassment and trying to figure out how a stranger with the looks of a chiseled athlete who should be passing by is still paused before you.

“I’m sorry to bother you, I just happened to be walking to my car when I noticed someone speeding off, not sure if you knew them, but I wanted to make sure you’re okay,”

Judging from faint sniffles, you’re sure he probably witnessed the entire scene of you power-walking away from your ex’s car, and though this stranger emits the aura of gentleness, you’re not necessarily in the mood for sweet talk if that’s what he is aiming for in the long run. After the night you’ve had thus far, another boy causing you heartbreak is not in your best interest. Folding your arms across your chest, your gaze drops to your shoes lightly scraping the tips of them along the cement of the sidewalk.

“May I… May I take a seat?” You wince at the realization that you haven’t answered him yet, and nibbling the inside of your cheek in obvious doubt, you return your eyes to his, and since you happen to be waiting on your mom to call you back, maybe having some company may not be such a bad idea after all. As much as you want to be angry at the masculine population, not all men are inconsiderate, and for this stranger to take time out of his night to check on you is enough to give him a chance at being friends if that’s what tonight leads to.

You nod your permission, noticing the grin still lingering on his pink lips. When he nestles beside you, he leaves enough space, glancing at you in the introduction, “My name is Jeongguk,” he offers a large hand that you accept; nervous jitters illuminating in the warmth of a blush deepens on your cheeks. “May I ask yours?” You want to be suspicious with how polite he’s being, which then strays you to mentally scold yourself, but you also can’t help the scars still etched into your conscious by your ex-boyfriend, who made you feel like you were crazy if you ever confronted him on his actions that would leave you so wounded. Moments where you’d ask him to try and be nicer, just for him to accuse you of being the rude one.

“[Y/N],” you timorously reply, finding it strange how you wish you could feel his hand again- how safe it seemed to hold it even if it was just for mere seconds.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he bows his head once before scanning the parking lot; quiet lingers other than the subtle sounds of breathing- white air still seen from how low the temperature is and you can’t help but feel guilty for how cold Jeongguk must be. There’s minimal awkward tension relating to what to say to continue a conversation, and with the stirring shock from earlier stemming, it’s as if something takes over you before you can stop yourself from speaking,

“He asked me a question he shouldn’t have asked,” gritting your teeth in irritation, you slam your eyes shut, because how do you know this stranger is going to take the time to listen, or even care about the situation you just experienced? Maybe this budding sense of trust that you can’t seem to fight embraces the courage of telling Jeongguk about tonight with the possibility of never seeing him again, so why be afraid? Why not tell him exactly what’s on your heart? What has been on your heart?

Eyebrows furrowed, a lightbulb seems to click when he remembers the car that sped off and Jeongguk patiently waits for you to continue while you slouch a tad against the bench, “That was my ex,”

Jeongguk’s eyes flicker along the side of your face while you compile your thoughts, “I’m sorry,” he whispers when he sees your expression fall into sadness.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, “I should have known better. He’s done it before,” there’s really not much you can say other than you’re humiliated with yourself, but what lessons can be learned if mistakes aren’t made? You’ve always been one to give second chances, and that’s what you thought tonight was going to be, but it was taken for granted. Little do you know, a chance to start over with someone new is blooming, but that’s something life isn’t going to show you right away, it’s something you will discover once you open your heart and forgive yourself, and to never forget how worth it you are. How deserving you are.

This man sitting beside you will cherish every bit of you, but neither of you know the future, and the pair of you are too busy shivering to truly take notice of the way destiny is planting its seeds within both of your souls. Though unaware, you will mend his broken heart the way that he will mend yours, proving to you what true love really is.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh between chattering teeth, “you must be freezing,”

“No, no I’m fine,” he reassures you, teeth showing from a crooked smile, even though his teeth were chattering moments ago, you find it extremely cute that he’s trying to pretend he’s not affected by this torturous excuse of weather. “Actually, if you need a ride home, I can take you,” he offers, “And, if you need to talk about everything and get things off your chest, I am a good listener,”

Holding his stare, you want so much to believe him, but you’re not one to put your trust into somebody that you don’t know; ashamed, you look down at your twiddling fingers, “That’s very sweet of you, but I don’t really get in cars with people I’ve just met,” you say honestly, half expecting him to be annoyed.

“Okay then,” instead, he surprises you with a cheery jingle to his tone, standing to his feet just to goofily spin around to face you, “How about the bus,” he offers his hand yet again, and how he read your mind from when you were battling with the daydream of holding it once more, you tilt your head at him with a smile you can’t help but give,

“Wait, what?”

“The bus,” he repeats with the widest smile you have seen yet, “It’s public, there is a bus stop literally diagonal from this restaurant, and I can guarantee you it’ll be warm,”

“But- but what about your car? Isn’t it here? My apartment is like, twenty minutes away from here give or take!”

“Nah,” he shrugs, “I will ride the bus back here to pick up my car, I only live 5 minutes away from this area,” he gestures with his hand which reminds you that it’s waiting just for you to hold, “Even if I lived another town away, I still, don’t mind.”

Overwhelmed by such a genuine smile exuberating from his features, even with your ex, he never showed you the pure kindness that this stranger by the name of Jeongguk has shown you in just a span of a few minutes.

“I- I don’t- I don’t know what to say,” you’re speechless, and this promising feeling beneath your chest gives way to any doubt you may have shadowed.

“You don’t have to say anything,” his eyes squint from how tickled he is by your flustered state, his inviting hand still outstretched. No more hesitation, you spring off the bench the exact moment your palm collides with his. As if two giggling young adults serenading the atmosphere isn’t enough to melt hearts all around the city, you’re beyond touched when you watch him pull enough money from his faded wallet to pay for your seat on the bus when it arrives.

“What are you- Jeongguk, you don’t have to do that,”

“Call me, Guk,” he winks over his shoulder where you stand behind him noticing how much he over towers you.

“Excuse me, Guk, I repeat, you don’t have to pay for me-”

“Hey, whatever it takes to make sure you have a ride home, I can take care of it,”

You gawk at him in utter amazement, because how? How can someone be so lovely?

“Is everything okay?” He peers at you after the both of you find empty seats upon the bus, and your mouth must have been ajar for quite sometime for it to feel so dry.

“I’m just- … I’m just so overwhelmed by your kindness,” your icy nose starting to warm from the air vents blowing inside the bus. “How are you so nice?”

A breathy laugh escapes past his grin, “It’s not hard to be kind,” he shrugs after a serious moment, the tips of his hair fluffing along his forehead almost falling into his eyes, “Sometimes one simple act of kindness is all it takes to make someone’s day better, you know?”

“Yeah,” you smile dreamily, leaning into his shoulder, “I know,”

There’s a moment shared, one neither of you can quite explain, no conversation needs to be held for the way your eyes speak is enough to know that there’s something beautiful glimmering between the pair of you. How can a chance like this even happen? Maybe meeting your ex after three years wasn’t a bad idea after all? It led you here, beside a handsome stranger who looks at you reflecting the same exact hope you’re starting to believe in again. As comforting as he seems, you place your head upon his shoulder, linking your arm with his, just fully soaking in his presence as much as you can, wishing that you didn’t have to go home just yet.

Smiles dim when the bus does stop where your apartment complex is hidden only a minute in the distance, and as much as you consider inviting him over for the evening, there’s still much trust you want to gain before making such a rash decision. If there’s a risk you’re going to take, you want to wait for the right opportunity. “I’m home now,” you mumble in disappointment, preparing to stand to your feet.

“Wait-” Jeongguk blurts discontinuing your movement to stand, “Here,” he hands you his phone the second he unlocks it, and while the passengers are lining within the aisle to exit the bus, you swiftly type in your number, heart beating to the point it pounds in your temples; handing him your phone for him to tap his number into, also. He stands with you, and for a moment, you wonder if he will hug you, but instead, that risk you were wondering about taking happens to spontaneously be made in this moment- this moment right here.

Bravery washes over you like never before, and when you place your hands upon Jeongguk’s shoulders, springing on your tiptoes, his face blurs before you peck his lips, and you don’t even give him time to process it. “Thank you,” you whisper, the sensation of how soft it felt to kiss him still lingering to the point, you have to refrain from turning around to collide into his arms. Even if some may find your move to be too bold, you don’t care. Jeongguk just gave you the best night you have had in a long while. And, it was very much needed.

You rush off the bus with adrenaline drenching your senses and long for the hope that you will hear from him soon. Sprinting to your apartment, you plop backward upon your bed, your phone flying into the pillows while you exhale in awe. Did tonight really just happen? Was Jeongguk even real? What if this was all a hallucination in order to make yourself feel better?

Even if it was, at least now he’s gifted you something you haven’t known how to re-insert back into your heart, and that’s hope. A new hope that there is a possibility of a brand-new start into a future you never dreamed could be so happy. If you thought your heart couldn’t soar any higher than it has been for the past five minutes, the faint buzz of your phone alerts you,

 Guk: No no, [Y/N], thank YOU.

[fanficmoi]

The Fool By The Seaside Chp.6

Jim McCartney was worried, his eldest son was ill and getting worse every day. He had a fever now, and it wouldn’t go down. He had no choice but to call a doctor, as much as it would strain his wallet. But the fact that Paul hadn’t gone to work in days was also a strain.

It was a new doctor, someone he hadn’t heard of before, but the card had arrived with the mail and he Jim had seen that he was cheaper than the others. Not cheap, but cheaper. The physician was called Dr. A.S. Klepios, and was supposed to arrive in a couple hours, while Jim was at work. Michael would receive him and show him to where Paul was. Jim only hoped it wasn’t anything serious.

Stuvartk and Cyneeah considered themselves John’s closest friends, yet they were still unable to raise the Merrow from his depression. He got like this sometimes, when his Uncail had died and when his mam had left the village for the second time. They lasted for a long time and were no good for John. stu had brought some paint and canvases to cheer John up, but the Merrow was not interested. And Cyn had brought along some books, the fantasy ones John enjoyed, but like with the paint John did not even look at them.

They had gasped when they had seen his bruises and healing cuts, but John would not tell them what happened. They knew some of it of course, the whole village was talking about. Crazy John had been away during storm and had returned covered in blood and holding a dead fish.

Speaking of the fish, “They found his family, John.” Cyn said, sitting on the edge of the put, her pink-red tail curled beneath her.

That made her friend’s head turn in her direction, the merman swallowed, “What was his name?”

Cyn’s brows furrowed as she tried to remember. Stu saved her trying when he said, “Ridire.”

John looked down with a dry chuckle, “Knight.” He said. Then, to the startlement of his friends, he burst out laughing, “He tried to protect me, can you believe that? That little fish, barely knew me, but there he was! Swimming around me like a fool, trying to protect me!”

Stu sighed, he knew this would be coming. John always broke down like this, but in a way it was a good thing, Stu prefered this manic version of his friend than the empty one he had been getting for the past few days.

Cyn was also ready for when John’s laughter turned to sobs and he launched himself into her waiting arms.

“It’s my fault!” He wailed, “He was there because of me!” His voice was broken, it pierced the air.

As it always, yet inexplicably, Stu and Cyn felt themselves grow sad as well. Their emotions exactly reflecting how John felt. Empathy wasn’t an ability the Merrow had, yet whenever John’s emotions were too strong, others in his vicinity found themselves feeling them too. Nobody could explain it, and if they could, they wouldn’t dare to.

Paul was feeling much better after the doctor’s visit, and the man hadn’t even prescribed him any medicine! Yet Paul had felt himself getting stronger and stronger every day for the past week, his fever and coughs gone. He was ready to go back to the beach. And to find John.

Mike had told him about how John hadn’t appeared those days ago, and Paul had been incredibly worried since. What if something had happened to him in the storm?

“You’ll be taking me with you, then?” A voice said, snapping Paul out of his thoughts.

Paul sighed as he tied his boots, “I don’t know, Mike. You said he didn’t show-”

“Yeah, ‘cause I was alone!” Mike rebutted, “Look, you promised me you’d introduce me to the creature, and now you’re feeling better.”

Paul held down the burst of anger that sprouted in his chest at the name ‘creature,’ reminding himself that he too had once been ignorant towards John. “Fine.” He sighed, “But if he doesn’t show, you leave.”

Mike grinned, “Aye, capt’n!”

Paul glared at him, his brother laughed.

John was alone that day, still holed up in his pit. He hadn’t washed his tail in the past week, still in mourning. His crying session with his friends had helped, but the remedy had been temporary. He knew what he needed, he needed to talk to his Paul. Paul would comfort him, Paul could touch his tail and make it feel better.

And by some sort of miracle, John then heart it. The sweet sound of his human’s voice. In an instant he was sitting up, his heart beating out of his chest. The first smile in days appeared on his face and he hurried out of his home, starting his Auntin in the process but not caring.

He ignored all the people looking at him like he was insane and swam away. He was going to talk to Paul again! He could tell him about Ridire, and Paul would have some wonderful way of making it better. Oh, he had missed his friend. Paul had a way of lighting up John’s heart in a way no other had even done before.

He was definitely grinning by the time he arrived at the surface, he burst out with a jump he was sure would impress Paul and then resurfaced with all his chest in view. He just hoped that when Paul saw his tail he wouldn’t be disgusted by the state of it. It didn’t look dirty, but it was.

John’s smile faltered when he noticed that Paul wasn’t, in fact, alone. There stood his human, laughing at the water that had splattered him when John had jumped, looking handsome as ever, but next to him was a less amused counterpart, dripping wet and clearly not liking it.

Paul waved and thanked himself for not bringing his guitar, the water would have surely ruined it. “Hello there, John!” John just looked at him with a tilted head, and Paul frowned. Then he looked behind him and remembered his companion, “Yes, right. Um, this is Mike.” He pointed behind himself, “My brother.” But then Paul noticed something, “John, what happened to your hair?” He asked, the hair looked nice but it was very unlike John.

John looked at him, feeling disappointed that Paul was not alone. “Friend died.”

Mike frowned and Paul gasped.

“Oh, John.” Paul said, getting into the water, “I’m sorry. I’m also sorry for not being here, I’ve been sick then there was the storm-”

“You is ill!?” John swam right up to Paul, making Mike move away, not that John bothered to notice. John grasped Paul forearms and raised himself up a bit more, his eyes alight with worry.

“No, I’m all better now.” Paul said, “Alright, John?” He put his hands on the others delicate looking cheeks, “Promise.”

John looked right into his eyes, and Paul felt himself once again falling under some sort of trance. And in that trance everything was forgotten, his brother behind him, the ugly storm that had had him worried for days, the money, everything. All he could think about was John, John, John.

The two just kept on staring until Mike cleared his throat. Paul didn’t hear it but it made John move his gaze away, which made Paul snap out of his pleasant trance.

Mike had also been staring at John. At his gills, his fins, his shiny skin. The creature was beautiful, it was captivating. He only wondered…”Where’s the tail?”

Paul looked back at him with a frown, “Mike…” He warned.

John sank further down into the water, taking his hands off Paul. His friend had brought along someone else, to see his tail? To touch it? Like John was some sort of exhibit?

Paul noticed John’s mood go down and raised his hand in a placating gesture, “He’s my brother, John.” He said, “He can be trusted.”

John looked away from Mike, “You want me to show tail?” He asked, if showing was that the brother wanted then there was no problem, but John would let only Paul touch him.

Paul smiled, “He won’t hurt you, John. But only if you feel comfortable with it.”

John felt uncomfortable with the almost hungry stare the brother was shooting him, but if it would make Paul happy. “For you.” He said. Then he sank down and swam to the rock.

Mike startled and unconsciously went to follow him but Paul put an arm out to restrict him. Together they saw as John burst out of the water and jumped onto the rock, his short hair sticking to his face in a delightful way and the bright sun making his tail shine, even dirty as it was.

Paul ignored his brother’s gasp and walked towards the rock, he was still worried about John. The merman looked off, and not just because of the haircut. He knew John wouldn’t talk with Mike standing right there so hopefully the lad would leave soon after he’d looked at John’s tail for a while.

He stepped up to the rock, “Can I?” He asked, gesturing to the space next to the Marrow.

John nodded his consent and Paul climbed up. Then John surprised him by laying his wet head on the human’s shoulder. Paul chuckled and rested his own head on the other, “You okay?” He whispered.

Recklessly ignoring the other human, John shook his head. “No.” He said.

Paul was suddenly overcome with a dire need to make his merman happy to again, to comfort him and reassure him. He took a closer look at his friend, noticing for the first time the bruises and healing cuts. “What happened to you?” He laid a hand on one of the bigger bruises on John’s side, “Was it the storm?”

John nodded, not lifting his head. “I is sleeping, waiting for you here. Storm caught up to me.”

Paul closed his eyes in regret, “Shit. John, I’m sorry. Can I help you with anything? Have you gotten those treated?”

John hadn’t, he deserved the pain for his stupidity. Killing Ridire and now making Paul feel bad, what a fuck up. But he didn’t say that to Paul, instead he asked, “Healer see you?”

Paul sighed at the lack of answer but nodded, “Yes, a new guy. He patched me right up.” He ducked down and looked into the merman’s captivating eyes, “I’m all good now, ‘kay? Promise.”

John smiled back at him. Once again their two gazes were looked, neither finding the will to look away. That is, until John felt a hand touching his tail.

As John recoiled in shook, Paul cursed and looked at where Michael was now standing on the water. He looked startled but his hand was still stretched out.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” He was saying, “I don’t know what came over me, Paul. I just, I had to-” His hand was once again stretched, “I had to touch it, it’s beautiful.”

Seeing John’s frightened face, Paul was overcomed by a terrible anger and jealousy. “Keep your hands off him!” He screamed, jumping off the rock and glaring down at his brother, “He’s mine!”

At this both Mike and John were startled. Mike at seeing his brother so angry, and John at the possessive tone.

Mike raised his hands and stepped away, “Look, I’m sorry, Paul. I just-”

Paul raised a fist, “Be quiet! You’ve done enough.” His eyes were inhuman, possessed. “Leave!”

Michael frowned but started to move away. He was for the first time truly scared of his brother. As he turned away he cursed the creature, it was the reason Paul was turning into this ugly thing. Mike hadn’t been able to control himself, you couldn’t put such a glorious thing in front of a person and not expect them to have a feel. Stupid fish.

Paul was quiet, but John could see that he was still fuming. The Merrow had curled into himself, not wanting to admit that the human was scaring him. “Paul?” He murmured hesitantly.

“What!?” He human screamed, not turning around.

The merman flinched and let out a hurt whine. “Paul.” He simply said, looking away.

And in a flash, Paul’s anger was gone. Then he was overcome with feelings of guilt at his outburst at his little brother and guilt for scaring John. He slowly turned around, his head spinning at all the conflicting emotions that had been running through it. “Damn. I, I don’t know what came over me, John.” He looked up at his friend, “I’m sorry. Hell, I need to stop being such an arse.”

Without looking at Paul, John offered a hand for the other to take and climb up beside him again.

With a weak smile, the human took it and climbed up. He then laid their intertwined hands together on the wet surface, “It’s been happening a lot lately, and I can’t explain it.” He shook his head, “Whenever Mike talks about you, I just feel so angry. And I’m hurting him, my little brother.” He looked up, “And now I scared you.”

John turned to look at him and rested another cold hand on top of his and Paul’s. “You not scare me, Paul. You could never.” He shuffled closer, “I will help you figure it out, yes?”

Paul leaned close, “Thank you.” He whispered. “But I am still sorry, I have no business talking about you like that. You’re not mine, John. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

The merman felt himself blush, once again an impossible thing seeing as he wasn’t warm blooded but there it was. “I, I not mind.” He ducked his head, “I liked.” He wasn’t lying, the words had shot a pleasant shiver through him. If only the tone hadn’t been so angry and cruel.

Paul snickered with an amused smile, his spirit leaping. “You did, did you?”

John curled his tail with a smile of his own, still not looking up but nodding.

Paul leaned closer and raised the merman’s chin with a gentle hand. The he leaned in to whisper in his friend’s ear, “You’re mine.” Smiling at the high pitched sound the other made, he continued, “and I’m yours, Johnny. I promise.”

John could take no more, he moved Paul’s head away from his ear and pushed his lips against the human’s.

Now it was Paul who made the startled sound, but he soon closed his eyes and kissed back. The merman’s lips were wet as expected, but they were not cold and were beautifully soft. Paul risked running his tongue along John’s sharp teeth, and was happy when the other willingly opened his mouth up to him.

They kissed for what felt like ages, but Paul soon felt a need for air, although John didn’t seem to have that problem. The merman’s tail was curled around Paul’s legs, the caudal fin barely touching the water.

Regretfully, Paul separated them. “Sorry, Johnny. I need air.”

John gasped, “Oh, I’m sorry, Paul. I didn’t know.”

Paul laughed and rested a hand on the part of the merman’s tail that was resting on his lap, “That’s alright.”

John briefly looked away, then looked back with wide eyes. “Do you have air now?”

Paul chuckled and rubbed his new lover’s tail, “You’re insatiable.” He said.

John leaned closer, “I not know what that means.” He whispered.

Paul smiled, “It doesn’t matter.” And he kissed John again, and again, and again.

Neither of the two were aware of the sad figure that was looking at them from the ocean. She sighed and turned away, if only the two lover’s had listened to the signs. They had no idea what pain would now rain upon them...

[kjs-s]

The senior trip

Pairing  Leonard McCoy x reader

Fandom Star Trek Aos

Summary Leonard and the reader are rival teachers who are the only ones to accompany the students on a field trip 

Teachers AU

Word Count: 2500

Warnings: none

A/N: This is my entry for @goingknowherewastaken birthday challenge.Happy early birthday.  I hope you like it.  I have no idea how the American educational system works so it can be all wrong.

@writing-journeyx   @sprinkleofhappinessuniverse @ohyesmarvel​ @agentpeggicarter  @buckys-fossil @romantichen @once-upon-an-imagine @locke-writes @lucetheding @marveliskindacool @captainrogerss   @jurassicbarnes @uncomfortable-writers @theassetseyeliner​ @sgtbxckybxrnes​ @thetherianthropydaily @dresupi @caplansteverogers @captainrogerss @dirajunara-archive @musikat18 @imamotherfuckingstar-lord @outside-the-government @thefanficfaerie @admiralamott

‘’Miss (Y/LN) I hope you have cleared your schedule for the week before the finals. We are not going to Hawaii without you. It’s going to be the most memorable and fun thing of our time here. We need our favorite teachers to be a part of it.’’ one of your students said.  

''Favorite teachers? You mean to tell me that I'm not your only favorite one?'' He looked nervous trying to find a way to answer that question without insulting you or hurting your feelings. ''I'm joking Adam. Who else is coming on the trip?''

''Does that mean you'll come? That's great. The principal said we will need two teachers but we asked both Mr. McCoy and Mr. Kirk alongside you. You three are the coolest and more laid-back adults here. We are still waiting for their answers though. The other students started coming it and Adam decided to share the good news.

''Hey guys, Ms. (Y/LN) said yes to chaperone us to Hawaii. This trip is looking up every day.''

''It's going to be great since we are the most awesome senior class in this school. That's why we are the only students here Mr. McCoy likes. I heard last week he corrected one of the freshmen so much, he made the boy cry. I think I picked up something about the grumpy teacher who would punish him. The poor boy was sobbing so hard and in an ugly way.'' Jessica told before defending Leonard. She used to be one of the students to get on his nerves because Leonard could see how smart she is yet she couldn’t apply her intelligence to study. Leonard McCoy showed her a better way of studying and made her into a valedictorian. Apart from that, he was one of everyone's favorite teachers seeing that he cared too much for them and he had a fun way of teaching biology.

When you first started working at the school, you knew nobody there. You had just moved to San Fransisco because you wanted to finally work as a teacher somewhere instead of the substitute jobs you had your entire career. The first two weeks you became friends with the other teachers, mostly with Jim, the drama teacher. You two clicked immediately and even sometimes helped each other with your classes. With you being the creative writing teacher, you often wrote scripts for him or had the students' ideas made into plays.  

The only person you haven't met was Leonard. However, you have heard everything about him. Not just because Jim was his best friend and insisted that the two of you would get along but from literally everyone in the school. Apparently, he was, from what you have heard, a little cranky although mostly at the people who didn't take their studies seriously. He gave the students interesting projects and his tests were all in trivial pursuit style in groups. On top of that, all the girls in your class seemed to have a crush on him.  

His reputation intrigued you for the handsome coworker you haven't met yet. However, it also made you a little competitive because you were used to being the most loved amongst the faulty in your old schools. You made a mission to be as liked as him. And you succeeded it that. Leonard senses your competitive vibe towards him and that made him a little hostile towards you. The fact he just had an unpleasant trip, trying to spend some time with his daughter, but ending up having fights with his ex every day didn't help his mood.  

''Please tell me you agreed to come on this trip with us Jim. I believe I will need you there.'' You went to lunch with him hoping he would come to Hawaii with the rest of you.

''Don't be silly (Y/N). You won't need me. I know you are not worried about handling the kids since they are all well-behaved. So, if this is about Leonard you two will be fine on your own, I bet you will have fun together.'' Jim wasn't even subtle about how much he wanted you and his best friend to get together. He was vocal about how good you will be from the beginning.

''I am not so sure about that. I mean, we are not in each other's throat anymore, but a whole week in Hawaii taking care of so many kids? We might end up arguing a lot. Besides, why don’t you want to come along? You have something interesting to do here?'' You smiled at him ready to gossip about his life for once.

''Yes, something exciting thanks to you. He laughed at your bewildered expression.

''Nothing like what you imagine. I took your advice about the final exam to be improv based on ''Whose line is it anyway?'' and I will spend the week watching it so I can come up with ideas. The students were over the moon to hear they didn't have to study and they were thankful for your creativity. What about your final exams? Are you done?''  

''Almost. I just have to write the epilogue of the story. I can't believe writing so terribly would be such a challenge. The kids will need a painkiller after editing that thing. Seriously I wrote it with so many mistakes they won't believe it came from me.''  

''They will curse you under their breaths. Yet again, they know you are soft on them. Listen I have to go back to school to prepare my classroom ok? Talk to you later.'' He pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek and hurried away.

The days leading up to the trip went by in a flash. You finished writing the horrible story for the finals and packed your bags. Much to your surprise, Leonard was civil towards you and even sounded friendly on occasion.

The days in Hawaii were relaxing and fun. You loved spending time on the beach and you ended up sunbathing for hours every day. It was entertaining to experience being with your students in such an environment and Leonard was enjoying himself a little too.

On the last night the student government president, Kelly had the idea to built a bonfire on the beach and stay up all night to finish the trip with a party.  

''Miss (Y/LN) why don't you come with us at the beach? We were staring at Mr. McCoy looking for the perfect place for our party and now he is gathering wood.'' You reluctantly went with the girls only after you made them promise to help you buy food.

When you were at the beach, you couldn't help yourself from admiring the view in front of you.  

Leonard couldn’t find any pieces of wood on the ground so he found an ax. Seeing him tearing down branches of trees made you feel a little flustered. Having focused on your rivalry and how you wanted to beat him for the most liked teacher in the senior year, you failed to notice how good-looking he is. His muscles were visible under his top and you assumed his arms were strong enough to lift you.

You shook yourself out of the trance of daydreaming about Leonard and you gathered the girls to help you buy food and set up a picnic. You had barely enough time to prepare before the night fell and you would start the party. Kelly wanted to begin with smores and scary stories. Afterward, they would move on to other games.

After the scary stories, you and Leonard left the students to play truth or dare by themselves and sat down nearby just the two of you.

You sat down next to him drinking out of your cup.

''I was hoping you would bring me a drink as well. You know, as a peace offer to stop this ridiculous rivalry between us.'' Leonard seemed somewhat apologetic. He had spent the day thinking how he has been towards you from the day you met. Also, he kind of heard Jim's voice in his head that you two would be great together.

''I would bring you one, I just assumed you don't like fruity virgin cocktails. If you want, I can get you one. We are out of anything else at the moment.'' You were surprised he expected you to try to mend things between you but you decided that this party would bring the two of you closer.

''I thought it was light beer, thanks for the offer though. Besides, we need to stay vigilant to watch these kids. Who knows, what kind of trouble they can get themselves into. I didn't go on my senior trip. And I spent the one in college making sure Jim wouldn't die from any of his allergies.'' He rolled his eyes and you smiled at the idea of how the two teachers would be when they were younger.

''You're telling me? I still remember a few about mine. Like the fact I woke up wearing a pineapple costume because I was too tired to change. And my classmates back home have a video of me dancing and singing the theme to SpongeBob SquarePants.''

''Let's hope embarrassing themselves is the worst that happens to them tonight. Otherwise, we will be the parents' least favorite teacher regardless how popular we are with the students.''  

''I believe your reputation will never be ruined. From my first day at the school, all I hear is how great and determined Mr. McCoy is. You have helped out so many students figure out what they want to follow as a career and how to work hard to get it. You are like a rock star in our school.'' You hated to admit it but deep down you admired him for how passionate he is about his job.

''You are like that too. I have overheard students talking about how awesome your class is in the hallway. And how you not only encouraging them to write, you try to make their ideas work without criticism. Not to mention that Jim was thrilled after you helped him make his class more interesting. It just occurred to me that maybe our rivalry was just jealousy. Sorry I was rude to you.''

''It's ok I was competitive towards you too and I sometimes don't like people being better than me at something. I'm sorry Leonard.''  

Leonard then spotted that one of the kids bringing more of the free beer, Leonard was happy it tasted almost like the real one even without alcohol, and he left to grab a cup. He offered to refill yours too.

''So, I don't think I have no idea where you are from.'' Leonard tried to get to know you better.

''Originally from a small town a few miles north from here. My parents still live there. After my graduation, I started moving around anywhere I could get a teaching position. It was mostly substitute work. The last place before I came here was Atlanta Georgia, I loved it there.''

''You're joking, right? The look on your face gave away your confusion so he elaborated himself.

''I'm from Atlanta I lived there all my life up until a few years ago.''

''If you don't mind me asking, why did you leave?'' You were focused on him and at the same time sneak glances to the kids partying. Thankfully nothing was out of control.

''I went back there after graduation to be with my then-girlfriend. We ended up marrying each other and everything was peachy up until she decided to leave me. She got everything in the divorce and I moved here to San Fransisco to start over. Thank God Jim had moved here and he let me be his roommate. I owe him a lot.  

He drank a little thinking how much he had been through.

''And now I try to go back every chance I get to visit my daughter.''

''You have a daughter? I had no idea.''

''Yes, I do. She is finishing elementary school this year. Let me show you a picture.'' He took his phone and gave it to you to see the picture.

''That's Joanna.'' You were stunned at seeing a familiar face.

''Yes, how do you know my daughter?'' He was intrigued to hear the story.

''I used to work as a tutor for elementary school kids when I first started working in Atlanta. I can't believe I never made the connection, Joanna was my favorite student there. I'm sure you already know how brilliant she is. I only tutored her because her mom, your ex-wife, thought it would make her better than the rest of her class.  

I never liked her. Your ex, not Joanna. Joanna was really adorable. And my favorite thing was how she always talked about her dad. She loves you so much. She would tell me about the costume you sent her for Halloween or that you were coming over to go to the zoo with her. She never stopped praising you.'' You smiled and help his hand noticing how much your words affected him.

Before he could reply to thank you for your story about his daughter, your students informed you they were continuing the party back at the hotel because the food was over.

''We should go back to the hotel as well. And maybe talk a little bit more. Maybe we will find out we have more things in common than the love for my daughter.'' Leonard helped you up and offered to link his arm with yours.

''I like the sound of that. I just can't believe we finally talked and buried the hatchet on the last day of the trip after sharing a room for a week.'' You giggled and Leonard started as well.

''But today we will stay up all night making sure the kids are alright. Also, for them to not start any rumors. We both know how much they like us together and they will definitely talk. Not to mention Jim will be thrilled that we get along. I can picture him insisting on us going to more trip together.''

''That I can imagine too. So, let's go inside and try to keep the rumors from spreading.''

Despite your efforts, the rumors of you ending up dating started immediately. You wouldn't really mind. You wanted to know you started it but your investigation was fruitless. It was impossible for you to fathom the fact that all of the seniors had colluded with Jim to make their favorite teachers a couple. And that the rumors were spread even before you returned from Hawaii.  

[crystalsnowmins]

Yoonmin Scenario #25

7k of how to mess up a good prompt. Be the judge of it. MOODBOARD ON FAN ACCOUNT TWITTER. *******

From Tumblr Prompt: Flower Shop!AU, In which Yoongi works in a flower shop for his aunt and he avoids sociality as much as possible until Park Jimin entered his flower shop with a crying, blotched face giving the order of a bouquet of flowers for a dead one. He ends up with a free arrangement, a hug and a phone number.

Yoongi has avoided interacting with people as much as he could, especially the popular snobby ones. He didn’t have any grudge against them, he is just anti-social and have a mid-life crisis. He has friends, don’t get him wrong, he does have friends and they need to be replaced whenever he can find time.

He works in a flower shop because he finds calmness in simple things. For a 22 years old man, his plate is filled with sadness and depression. His parents thought working might help him distract so they asked his aunt to offer him the job. She did, hesitant because she was worried his poor mood would affect the flowers growth. Somehow working for two months, Yoongi has found solace in that flower shop.

He talks to his flowers, tell about his days, complains about his professors, tell about his friends. He is not sure if plants can truly sympathize with him but it feels nice to let out.

He is usually a quiet person and somehow entitled as one of the ‘bad boy’ of university. Apparently, the categories to be in ‘bad boys of university’ are having a stoic expression, looking dead and not interacting with anyone. He has nothing on him to be known as a classic bad boy. He’s just a soft kitten who loves his flower shop and always wants to finish with university so he can go back to work.

His friends laugh whenever a junior would bump into Yoongi and apologise stutteringly as if Yoongi with pull out his tongue. It frustrates him. He is not bad, he is a good person, just antisocial. His reputation is totally ruined and it makes people stay away from him, especially Park Jimin.

Where can he start about Park Jimin.

Well, Park Jimin came into his life like a typical Regina George entry with university doors opening on it’s own and an angelic being entering the hallways with nervousness but determination. He had heads turned towards him, even Yoongi’s. Even the straightest people had their mouth widen at him because he is just so beautiful.

Yoongi’s friends think that he exaggerates a lot about Jimin but what do they know. He has a theory, it involves that Jimin definitely is an angel descended down by the orders of God to bless everyone with his presence. One smile and your whole week will go well.

Sigh, unfortunately, that smile is never directed to him so he always has a shitty week.

As soon as Jimin entered the university, he became the most popular one, being taken under the ‘best looking’ students of the university. They probably filled him on Yoongi being a ‘bad boy’, lying how he gets into fight and sells drugs.

Pfft, Yoongi is a kitten who cannot fight for his life. He looks like he has come out from The Great Depression 1929 and is ready to start a blood bath, but really, he needs petting on his head and a comforting hug to go by. Jin hyung fills that category for him.

Jimin stays away from trouble and that means he doesn’t associate with Yoongi because he’s a ‘bad boy’. It’s a sad life since he entered university.

Park Jimin though, even if he stays with the popular group, he seems like a down to earth guy. He smiles at everyone, a kind and comforting smile. He is touchy, always has a comforting hand on people’s shoulder. He helps students who are weak in studies, he helps professors.

Who does that in this world? Except an angel would. Which is Park Jimin.

Yoongi wishes to talk to him, but he believes he will piss his pants before that happens. So he admires from far, everyone does, so Jimin doesn’t mind if he catches someone looking at him. He would smile and blink his eyes at them.

On top of Jimin being an angel, he comes from a comparatively rich family that means he ranks high in angel community. Yoongi looks like he has been starving himself since the Korean War. He is so ugly in compare to Park Jimin, he is a displeasure to look at, truly. Jin reprimands him for that, says that if he isn’t confident, how will he ever face Jimin?

Ha! Jokes on him, because he will never face Park Jimin.

But life’s a bitch and it likes to fuck up, especially Yoongi who is already a fuck up. The day he has always been dreading for comes in the form of a crying Park Jimin. He has never seen Park Jimin cry.

Yoongi was working in the flower shop, making small corsages for a wedding coming up. He was talking to his flowers, floundering about Park Jimin…he wore a flannel, that probably wasn’t his size because I couldn’t find his hands sticking out. Anyway, he looked good today as well. He still doesn’t know me, because well, I’m invisible to him.

He doesn’t mind being invisible to Park Jimin, that’s better for so many reasons.

But at that time, life laughed at him and sent Park Jimin in his lonely path.

While Yoongi was busy making corsages, the door to the flower shops open with a chime. He looks up with a fake smile only to let it drop when he sees who came in.

Park Jimin.

Park Jimin wearing the same flannel from earlier.

Park Jimin crying.

Park Jimin sniffs loudly as if announcing his presence and he looks around, blinking hard to let his tears fall so he can look properly. He notices a boy, wearing a navy blue apron and holding a white flower in his hand.

“Pl-please help me,” He requests, hiccuping after it.

What is it, angel? You want my kidney? Take it. I have two anyway.

At that moment, Yoongi was ready to bring all the stars from the universe for Jimin if he asked of him.

Yoongi nods, not daring to move towards the boy, although wanting to comfort him.

“What can I help you with?” Yoongi asks with the most soft voice he has ever used. He didn’t even know he could have a soft voice.

“I want an arran-arrangement of flowers,” He tries to speak through his tears. Yoongi nods again, making a move to come closer but not enough.

Who hurt you?

“Is there anything specific?” He asks carefully, not wanting to trigger him further.

Unfortunately, Jimin cries harder than he was and Yoongi can almost picture his life laughing at him, eating popcorn while he watches the scene in 3D.

Yoongi panics, especially gay panic. Because how can this human like angel cry so prettily? Why does Yoongi look like blobfish when he cries? But then he guesses it’s because he is a human and Jimin is an angel.

“Tissue,” Jimin mumbles, crying in his sleeves and wiping his face.

Tissue? What kind of plant is that? Does he mean in texture?

“Can I have a tissue?” Jimin looks up with his bloodshot eyes indicating that he’s been crying for long.

Honestly who hurt him? Is it from his angel community? Because square the fuck up bitch, even though y’all are angels probably, Jimin is the angelest of the angel and with that right, the other angels have no right to make him cry.

Yoongi immediately goes behind his counter to get the tissue box he usually keep. He offers him but Jimin takes the whole box and abuses the usage of tissues. He takes several and blows his nose. In any other circumstance, where Park Jimin wasn’t a literal angel, Yoongi would have been disgusted.

Yoongi goes behind his counter again and pull out the stool he sits on. He offers it to Jimin who immediately takes a seat and keep wiping his face in the tissue.

Honestly, Jin hyung is good at it and he doesn’t know where Jin hyung might be. Yoongi has never dared to talk to Jimin and suddenly life throws him Jimin and he doesn’t know what to do with it. He just wanted to crush on Jimin from far away!

He clears his throat to get attention, which he gets but a small one in which he manages to awkwardly smile. He is on duty and he needs to make 73 corsages and he has done only 33 so far and 40 are still needs to be done before the shop closes. And Jimin being here, crying his eyes out and not giving any order, isn’t helping Yoongi further.

He wants to ask the stool back and start working again but he is weak hearted man and cannot see the love of his life bawling.

“Jimin-ssi,” Yoongi carefully calls out. The said boy looks up with the saddest expression.

Yoongi swears inwardly because anyone who makes Jimin cries should be given a life time imprisonment.

“You know me?” He meekly asks, sniffling.

Yoongi awkwardly smiles, a little hurt that Jimin doesn’t recognize him. What’s new in the neighborhood anyway? He didn’t think Jimin would, the guy never spared him with a single glance. It might be Yoongi’s fault as well, hiding away so he doesn’t get triggered by Jimin’s smile.

“We study in the same university,” He shrugs, trying not to be petty in front of the guy.

Jimin forms a ‘O’ with his mouth and mumbles an apology for not remembering him. Remembering? Yoongi huffs inwardly. More like not knowing he exists on the grounds of university.

For a moment, everything was silent, Jimin wasn’t crying, just playing with the edge of the box in his hand and scratching it. It was quiet until Yoongi opened his mouth and asked, “Anyway, could you tell me what kind of arrangements do you want?” And the damn dam was open again.

Yoongi panic and it’s not even gay panic. He can hear the siren of a police car coming, probably going to arrest him for a lifetime imprisonment because this time he made Jimin cry. Honestly, he shouldn’t have even made that rule.

“Okay, okay,” Yoongi calms him down, at least tries to do that, “I’ll get you a glass of water,” He says and disappears in the backroom, door closing as he leans against it. Anymore wailing, and Yoongi will kill himself.

He hears Jimin cry and feels bad and sad at the same time. Something happened and he doesn’t know anything about it. Earlier in the university, Jimin was a happy puppy, skipping the hallways and laughing loudly with his obnoxious friends. He was all good and made everyone’s day better. Even though no smile was directed in his way, Yoongi’s life was a little bit better because he could hear Jimin’s laugh.

It’s a pleasant laugh, completely opposite to how he is wailing out there. It’s squeaky as if you have stepped on those rubber toys. He remembers the sound because he used to have those shoes that made the same sound when he walked. It was irritating when he had to witness small kids doing it now but Jimin’s laugh…it’s pleasant. It’s breathy and filled with genuine happiness. His face contracts into a complete bliss and if Yoongi had power, he probably could see the halo on Jimin’s head glowing when he is happy. But he’s a normal human being and he only sees his beautiful laugh, mouth wide open but hidden behind his hands and eyes completely disappearing.

Yoongi often think about Jimin’s laugh when he feels sad and depressed, when it’s a gloomy day for him. Suddenly everything seems better with Jimin’s smile and laugh and his whole being. But now, his crying face will be a nightmare.

Yoongi remembers his purpose and quickly fills a paper cup with water. He opens the door again and walks out to the scene of tissues circling Jimin in a heap as the younger abuses the box more. He walks carefully and sit on his feet to look at Jimin carefully. He doesn’t think he has ever been this close to Jimin. He was always maintained a 1m distance.

Up close, and without being biased, Jimin is more beautiful, even crying. What kind of sorcery is this?

Yoongi smiles comfortingly when Jimin sadly looks at him, eyes swollen and filled with tears, cheeks red with constant wiping, lips slicked with…stuffs he doesn’t want to know and nose all snotty. Sigh, still pretty. He offers him the glass which Jimin takes gladly and Yoongi quickly takes away the tissue box which seems lighter than before.

Jimin gulps down the offered water and hand the empty cup back to Yoongi, while he’s still sad and pouting. Yoongi looks at the corsages and sigh, think I have to pull an overnight for this.

“Are you grieving?” Yoongi ask, so he can get started with an arrangement and send Jimin out because this human being’s presence is overwhelming. And Yoongi can’t breathe and he’s so close to hugging the life out of Jimin and pouring out his heart.

Jimin nods while still not looking up.

Grieving, huh.

Yoongi skims around the shelves until he finds what he is looking for. White chrysanthemums, he hums when he collects a bunch of flowers and move around the shop to reach Jimin who is crying, but he has slowed down with the tears.

Yoongi sits on his feet again and shows the flowers to Jimin, who wipes his face and nose but doesn’t look up to ask anything.

“White chrysanthemums, it symbolizes grief,” He explains. He doesn’t have to because he normally doesn’t do it and nor Jimin has asked but he feels like talking to Jimin even with any topic could help him open up a little bit and maybe, not like Yoongi is wishing, because no, but maybe Jimin will acknowledge Yoongi’s effort and notice his undying love for him.

Okay, maybe that’s too much asking.

Jimin reaches his hand to touch the soft petals and he nods in encouragement.

“Can I suggest something?” Yoongi carefully treads.

Jimin nods.

“I know you’re grieving, but what about adding some colors huh?” Yoongi says and that makes Jimin looks up in confusion, red rimmed eyes curiously staring at him. “It will be different, the one you’re grieving for, and I’m sure they are above watching you, they’ll be happy. Nobody wants to die knowing they’ll cause pain to others, yeah?” Jimin is tempted to look up and feel if she is actually watching him, if she actually wants a colorful arrangement.

“You don’t have to, I can just pack-,”

“-okay,” Jimin affirms quietly, fiddling with his fingers, he looks up at Yoongi and nods.

The older boy smiles in appreciation.

“Then how about you tell me something that remind you of…,” He trails off as he doesn’t know the gender of that person.

“Her,” Jimin supplies, sorrowfully.

“Her,” Yoongi confirms.

He gets up and places the white chrysanthemums on the counter and waits for Jimin to speak. When the younger feels a little better and a less sad, he thinks about her.

“She was old, really old,” He starts and look at Yoongi as if waiting for a flower to appear. Yoongi doesn’t know what could symbolize old age.

“That means she lived long?” He smiles at him, to show some comfort. Jimin nods, smiling sadly.

“I could have suggested horehound but we don’t grow those,” He smiles apologetically and sees Jimin face falls at that, “But maybe you can tell me her favorite color?” He asks hopefully, wanting to see that smile on Jimin’s face again.

“She liked flashy color,” He mumbles. “She would get excited around those flashy colors, red, orange, yellow etcetera,” He informs.

Yoongi wonder who died in his family for him to feel so sad. If she was an old person, then was it his grandmother? Was he attached to his grandmother a lot? Anyway, even if he wasn’t, a person death’s is heartbreaking.

While Yoongi skims through his shelves to collect the exact flower he had in mind, he hears Jimin voice fills the silent shop, he smiles because at least Jimin is opening up, speaking up without him insisting.

“She was always cheerful, always wanting to go out despite being old. She liked sunlight a lot,” Jimin smiles at the memory of her.

Yoongi picks up red poinsettia and hums in affirmation. He shows it to Jimin who tilt his head in confusion, “Red poinsettia, symbolizes cheerfulness,” After getting his approval, Yoongi keeps it next to white chrysanthemums.

He urges Jimin to speak more so he can make an arrangement. He doesn’t mind that Jimin takes his time, even though in the starting he wanted Jimin to leave as soon as possible, but he is going to take his time with him because it’s not everyday he can spend time with Jimin.

“She was my best friend,” Jimin almost whispers, suddenly feeling like crying again. Yoongi sympathizes with him, his grandmother was also very close to him, she was the epitome of how every grandmother should be.

Yoongi picks another pot of flower and shows it to Jimin who simply tilts his head for further explanation, “Alstroemeria, symbolizes friendship,” He says, while looking at the pink flower blended with white. Jimin nods, approving of the flower.

“Will it cost a lot?” Jimin asks, looking at the flowers on table. It’s not like he cannot afford it so Yoongi wonders why he is worried about money. “She didn’t like expensive things, she could just smell and tell it’s expensive. I don’t want to disappoint her,” He explains himself, fiddling with himself and Yoongi notices he does that a lot. “I also want more flowers,” He mumbles to himself.

And really if this was Yoongi’s store, he would have sold this store to Jimin without asking money. He is not even playing around.

“Don’t worry, we have discount. It wouldn’t cost much,” He assures him. There’s not fucking discount at this time of year since there’s no festival around the corner. But if Jimin has dilemma, then Yoongi will open his wallet and pay the money for the discount he just simply gave.

Jimin tries to smile and nod at Yoongi’s direction in appreciation.

Yoongi hears Jimin talk about his grandmother a more, a little more relaxed. He would deviate from his true work and tell stories, sometimes smiling or sometimes being sad at the memories. Yoongi would bring him back while showing different flowers and asking his consent.

“She was really affectionate and always looked for receiving it. She kept the family together in some ways,” Jimin shrugs and Yoongi knows it’s personal so he doesn’t make Jimin elaborate himself, “She rubbed the affectionate part on me,” He pouts, more like purses his lips in thought.

In that moment, Yoongi simply looks at his lips and wonders how it would feel to touch it, simply caress the softness and plushiness of his lips. It is always slick with lip balm and moisturizer. Jimin has always taken care of himself, it’s no surprise he’s so pretty day and night. While Yoongi wakes up and just wash his face with water, if he’s feeling good, he’d use a soap for the most. And no wonder he’s ugly in compare to Jimin.

“How about saxifrage, hmm?” Yoongi asks, moving to get the plant.

“S-sexyfrage?” He squeaks from his place on the stool.

Yoongi shakes his head and chuckle as he shows him the plant, a pink colored. “Saxifrage,” He repeats himself properly as Jimin mumbles it to himself, “It represents friendship, many flowers does but it’s different at the same, right?” Jimin just cluelessly nods as Yoongi chats about the flowers. He has no idea of flowers and how many there are and what each symbolizes. It must be so difficult remembering each flowers and it’s symbols, Jimin thinks.

“What flower do you want next?” Yoongi asks, clapping his hands to get Jimin’s attention.

“Uh…She was encouraging. Whenever I’d feel down or not confident, she’d come to me and sit next to me until I feel better, she had her own way to show it I guess,” He shrugs and waits for Yoongi to get a flower.

Yoongi disappears behind the shelves again while he hums and searches for a particular flower. Jimin looks at him between the shelves and thinks he’s really pretty, he wonder how he didn’t know Yoongi studies with him. He makes sure he knows everyone, not really engaging with everyone but he still makes sure he knows everyone studying in the campus. But the name rings in his head and he knows he has heard it somewhere.

“…black eyed Susan,” Yoongi says the last word in his daegu accent, slipping whenever he has to speak in English.

“Hmm?” Jimin asks, distracted by the thoughts of Yoongi.

“Black eyed Susan symbolizes motivation,” He explains and Yoongi looks at the sunflower looking plant. It’s bright and yellow and he’s sure she would love it. So he nods in affirmation.

“Anything for childishness? She used to get her way with everyone around,” Jimin hopefully asks. Yoongi laughs at that and remembers her own grandmother. She used to get her things done by pouting and crying most of the time, emotional blackmailing and telling how she will die tomorrow.

“Don’t all grandmothers?” Yoongi mumbles to himself and Jimin hums, ask if he said something and the older boy shakes his head no.

“It’s really impressive how you know every single flower,” Jimin compliments and smile at Yoongi who looks at him from between the shelves. “You just don’t look like someone who would work here,” Jimin gestures to his outfit and mumbles, “No offense.”

Yoongi looks down at his outfit, faded jeans with more holes than clothe and a white t-shirt, probably way too old and a black leather jacket that he bought from Korean market. To top the marvelous look, he’s wearing a navy blue apron.

“Why because I’m resident’s bad boy?” Yoongi muses, it makes him snort at the label.

“Wha…,” Jimin trails off, not understanding the meaning behind Yoongi’s word. Meanwhile, Yoongi shows his Buttercup flower that would symbolize the childishness that Jimin asked for. The younger boy approves absentmindedly as he follows Yoongi with his tear stained eyes. He wants to know the meaning for resident’s bad boy. When he feels eyes on him, Yoongi turns to Jimin with a sigh and raise his brow.

“Min Yoongi, apparently resident’s bad boy because he doesn’t socialize with people,” Yoongi sarcastically introduces himself although he believes it’s kinda late for introduction since Jimin has been here for half an hour already.

Jimin tilts his head in confusion as he purse his lips in thought, remembering where he heard the name. Yoongi sees three different emotions through Jimin’s face, First was confusion as he thinks about Yoongi’s name, second was realization as he makes his mouth shaped of ‘O’ and third was acceptance but he didn’t seem feared by Yoongi.

“It kinda hurts my ‘bad boy’ heart, ya know?” Yoongi smiles childishly at Jimin, “I’m quite popular, I’m sure your friends must have filled you in on me,” He pouts unconsciously, looking around to his flowers and the ones he kept it on table, it could use some blue in it, Yoongi thinks.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin sheepishly apologise, “I don’t believe in mindless rumors,” He says and shrugs, wiping his snot filled nose. It should disgust Yoongi but he finds the action cute. Oh my god, what the hell is wrong with me?

Yoongi wants to argue that even so he didn’t come to talk to him, he wasn’t obliged, it’s understandable but he didn’t like the fact that his smile were completely thrown away on the way and his stare was not received. As far as Yoongi knows, Jimin interacted with everyone, even if he didn’t know their names. So Yoongi is a bit salty at the fact that it’s going to be a year now and this is the first time Jimin talked to him. He doesn’t even remember him and Yoongi and Jimin have crossed paths or hallways on multiple occasion.

“It’s whatever,” Yoongi waves it off, not wanting to be a victim or anything or seem petty and affection seeker in front of his crush. “Do you want anything more?” He changes the subject.

Jimin sits straight and nods, “Something to let her know I will always miss her?” He meekly day as if he is bothering Yoongi. The older would agree but he doesn’t mind the few moments with Jimin. The younger might as well forget him tomorrow.

“Salvia,” Yoongi answers immediately and he thinks it’s a perfect match to many vibrant colors in the bouquet as of this moment. The violet color of salvia would compliment all the flowers in the arrangement.

“Why do you work here, Yoongi-ssi?” Jimin asks, his voice traveling through the vast area of the flower shop.

“Because it relaxes me,” Yoongi answers and cut the stems of salvia flowers, “I used to smoke, I still do…sometimes but talking with flowers help, helps with filtering bad thoughts,” When Yoongi comes in front of Jimin, he sees his with mouth agape with astonishment, Yoongi almost blush at the attention, “I’m sorry, you are already having a lot in your plate and I’m filling more with my sad life,” He apologises and keeps the salvia flowers on the table.

Jimin doesn’t say anything for a moment, somewhere lost in thought and Yoongi takes the time to stare at him like he always do. Sad Jimin looks beautiful, nonetheless, but it’s not an expression that suits him well. Jimin has a face that suits a happy expression and he may have his bad days but if Yoongi could help, he wouldn’t let Jimin cry or be sad. It just doesn’t suit him.

“Danbi uses to help me with sad days,” Jimin mumbles, suddenly emotional at the thought of it. His eyes fills with tears again as one drops, two drops and three drops then it’s an open dam. He silently cry, sniffling while Yoongi is panicking. His hands itches to touch Jimin and console him but he stays on his spot.

“Danbi is a nice name,” He tries.

“It is!” Jimin wails now, looking up and oh,faintly Yoongi hears his heart shattering at the sight of crying Jimin.

Before consoling Jimin, Yoongi again skims to the darker part of the shop where plants grow in shade. He plucks a few forget-me-nots and smiles to himself. This might help.

When he goes back, Jimin is still wailing to himself as he misses his grandmother. Yoongi thinks-Danbi-it’s a pretty modern name, nothing what he expected from a old aged woman. It’s whimsical to think that such a pretty name is used for a old woman who was born probably before the Korean War.

“Jimin,” He slips away the formality and calls him out who looks up and hiccups in a cute way. Yoongi shows him the delicate looking cloud of color flower. “Danbi means sweet rain, did you know?” Jimin nods at that, wails turning into little sobs, “These flowers grow in plenty of rainfall and it symbolizes a lot of things, you know? It’s called forget me not, no pun intended,” Yoongi immediately follows and he sits on his feet again since Jimin refuses to look up and cry. It makes the younger laugh but then he’s back to crying again.

“I’m really sorry for you loss,” Yoongi whispers, contemplates to keep a hand on his thigh for comfort but he’s kinda afraid of placing a hand on his muscular thighs and not squeeze the fat. But he places it, because he’s thinking with his heart right now.

“Dan..bi,” Jimin hiccups, “She could have li-lived longer,” Yoongi nods at that, he cannot sympathies well but he tries. “One day I’m-I’m coming home and-and-and she’s gone, I did not even get to say a good-bye,” And all of a sudden, Jimin is back to wailing again. It’s an endless cycle, really. Sometimes he’s crying, then talking and then wailing and then sobbing and then talking.

He cries in his hand at the thought of her and Yoongi feels his own eyes watering at the sight. He’s so fucking weak for this guy, it’s not even funny anymore. He wonders how it would feel like to be remembered like this or how Jimin must have been close to his grandmother.

Yoongi is close to his family, no doubt. He has always been. But when he started growing, he started distancing himself because he had this self doubt about himself. He knew his family loved him nonetheless but he never gave himself credit for his existence in their life. And when he came to Seoul, it just so happened that he talked less to his parents, once a week maybe. His grandparents died when he was still young so he doesn’t miss them much. He just doesn’t have anything to cry for, except his sad life.

Jimin wails bring him back to the present, as the younger slouches on the stool. Against the better judgement, Yoongi keeps the flower on ground and he kneels, very slowly he moves in and wrap his arms around Jimin’s shoulder in a awkward hug. When Jimin doesn’t push him away and still cries in his hand, Yoongi moves further in and tighten his holds while he uses one hand to rub his back.

In the next movement, Jimin has his arms wrapped around Yoongi’s shoulders as he cries in his neck about Danbi. And so, on a spring day, a breezy evening, he’s kneeling in front of his crush and hugging him, consoling him while his crush cry about his grandmother.

He let Jimin cry and look outside the glass panes to see the streets bustling with lives. Few notice the inside of the shop and furrow their brows, but pays no heed. In the same moment, a man tries to come inside, the bell chiming above him but then he sees Yoongi being trapped in a sad hug and a boy, sitting in stool, crying like someone has died. Well…

He smiles awkwardly and leaves them to be. All of it doesn’t affect Jimin who’s content with crying in Yoongi’s neck, rubbing his tear stained cheeks in his jacket and his snot on his skin. It should disgust him but he has made it clear how fucking smitten he is.

He hopes Jimin feels better with a hug, he wants to kiss his face until he’s smiling but tough shit. So he takes what he’s getting, a hug. Sometimes, during Yoongi’s hardships, all he wanted was a hug as such and he knew it could have solved so many problems. But he never received one, not heartfelt at least. He’s not salty about it, he’s past that stage. So now he’s hoping Jimin feels his emotions through the hug, the words of comfort that he cannot say but can only show.

Yoongi calms him, pets his hair, rubs his back and whispers, “Shh,” constantly in his ear. He thinks Jimin was really close to his grandmother to be wailing this sadly, as if his whole world has turned upside down in a moment.

The Jimin he saw this morning was the Jimin he saw every morning. Skipping steps and greeting everyone on the way, his laugh resonating through the crowded hall. It would take everyone’s attention, certainly Yoongi’s. He seemed happy today as well, if his grandmother was on deathbed, he didn’t show.

He hears Jimin’s voice telling him something and he focuses back to the bundle of warmth in his arms, body slightly shaking with the intensity of crying. Yoongi can feel all the types of liquid on his neck but he doesn’t push Jimin away.

“…and then we found Danbi under a huge tree, injured and scared. I remember it was raining that time as well, so we kept her name as Danbi,” He feels Jimin tense up in his hold but Yoongi doesn’t do anything about it because hold up, what now? Jimin found his grandmother under a pole, crying and injured?

He feels like he’s missing something here. Damn it! He should have listened to the whole story.

“Yoongi-ssi…?” Jimin calls out for him, pulling back to see what had stopped him to pet his hair. When Yoongi’s eyes zeroes back on Jimin, he can see how close Jimin is, looking sadly into his eyes, yet with confusion. His face his red from crying and lips slicked with spit, tears, perhaps even snot.

“Danbi is an animal, Jimin?” Yoongi calmly ask, because that can’t be it, Danbi cannot be an animal.

“Hmm, a cat,” Jimin confirms, “Why, who did you think Danbi was?” He asks tilting his head. The earring he is wearing, dangles. Yoongi hadn’t noticed it before.

He thinks hard about Jimin’s question, who did you think Danbi was?

Oh, I don’t know…perhaps a human? Perhaps a grandmother? Perhaps anyone but a cat!

“So Danbi is a cat?” Yoongi confirms for the last time. He’s holding onto his patience by fisting Jimin’s t-shirt from behind. He hopes Jimin doesn’t feel it.

Jimin nods, pouting.

“And you’re crying because your cat died?” He asks again, elaborated so that he can understand why Jimin has been wailing. It can’t be because of a cat. When Jimin nods, unsure, Yoongi deadpans, “You’re crying because your cat died,” He states.

“You can’t say like that!” Jimin protests, pushing him away a little so he can sit straight, “Danbi has been with me for twelve years!” And then he’s back to crying because of Yoongi now.

Yoongi stops himself from hitting Jimin because one; he is Yoongi’s crush, two; he’s such a beautiful person and three; he cannot see Jimin cry.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” Yoongi apologises although he still doesn’t understand how someone can wail like a madman when an animal dies. Yoongi never had an animal to look after, to come to home to. It was always his plants and he knew the plants wilt and had to be bought so he prepared himself. But an animal? Never. It was too much hassle to look after an animal. He couldn’t even properly take care of himself, he doesn’t even think to take care of an animal.

Jimin doesn’t say anything, he just, mind Yoongi say, forcefully, pulls the older to hug him, to comfort him. If somebody would have told Yoongi that today, he’d be hugging Jimin, getting to comfort the younger, his crush, then Yoongi would have given the most unimpressed look he can conjure up and turned to leave the bullshit.

But here he is, comforting Jimin, rubbing his back as the younger cries about Danbi, not a grandmother but a cat. He somehow senses he can understand, 12 years of relationship, even if with a cat. He must have made a lot of memories with the animal nonetheless. Somewhere he’s happy Jimin had someone, even an animal, when he was sad, happy, angry and every other emotions.

“I’m sorry, Jiminie,” He let the name slip, mindlessly, “It must be tough for you,” He doesn’t understand but he tries his damn best to comfort the younger. “She’s in a better place, I’m sure she’s glad you took her in and cared for her. You’re such a good person, always caring for others,” He can feel Jimin tighten his arms around him in appreciation.

“You-you think Danbi can forgive fuh-for not being there during her last hours?” Jimin asks, pulling away and wiping his snort. It should really disgust him but fuck, he might be in love.

“Yeah, angel,” Yoongi says, letting the endearment spill, “Sorry…Jimin,” He apologises, “I’m sure she forgives you for that,” He says and wills himself to separate from Jimin, his warmth. This might be the first and last chance for him for all he knows. He picks up the forget-me-nots and stand up, letting Jimin clean himself. Yoongi offers tissue and grims when Jimin abuses it again.

“I’ll arrange these for you, do you want anything else?” He asks, walking over to the counter and going behind it. Jimin shakes his head no and affirms Yoongi to prepare the arrangement of flowers.

He starts arranging, first arranging the white chrysanthemums into a small bouquet and the arranging all the other symbolic flowers around it, mixing with the white chrysanthemums. He wants to let the chrysanthemums be regarded more in the symbolism of grief. After being happy with how it came out, Yoongi chances a glance at Jimin who was already looking at him and blushes away. Yoongi bites his lips to stop smiling.

He trims the ends of the stems and sprays the flowers with the water. He hears Jimin walking towards him, after being clean of body fluids from his face. Yoongi smiles at him as he secures the flower with a rubber band. Then he wraps a brown paper around the arrangement, securing the paper with a ribbon skillfully.

He shows it to Jimin who nods and takes out his wallet. They do their work quietly. Jimin takes the bouquet in hand and astonishingly looks at it. He can’t really remember the names of flowers or what color each of them were, but he remembers the symbolisms added in a bouquet and he is satisfied. He hopes his cat loves it from above.

Yoongi cleans the desk as Jimin looks at the flowers and takes a whiff of it, smiling to himself. Then he just looks at Jimin, who’s rolling the flowers in hand, happy about it.

Jimin looks at him and smiles shyly, then eyes open wide in thought.

“Oh, how much does it cost?” Jimin asks, placing the flowers carefully before he picks up his wallet and open it.

“Don’t worry about it,” Yoongi shrugs, not trying to be cool.

“Oh, no, I can’t,” Jimin says, “Let me pay for it, I was an inconvenience to you,” He pouts and Yoongi gulps, gay panic rising again.

“You we-weren’t,” He stutters, looking away.

“Still, I should pay,” Jimin determinedly say, eyebrows furrowed.

“I told you, don’t worry about it. Just take it. I’m sorry about you cat, I hope you feel better,” He genuinely say.

Jimin smiles and nods, “Thank you.”

It costs like a motherfucker and Jimin would have been able to pay, sure, but Yoongi is hopelessly in love with Jimin and he can give the money for the bouquet from his paycheck, even though Jimin will never return his love. But like…whatever.

“I should go,” He directs his thumb to the door and Yoongi nods, feeling gloomy that Jimin has to leave. It might have been first and last time they would have talked.

“Thank you again, for the flowers…the hug,” He says, almost whispers as he bows down in thankfulness.

“And tissue?” Yoongi teases.

Jimin blushes as he looks on the floorboard to see dirty tissues lying around. He feel bad that he made such a mess and looks at Yoongi with a pout.

“Don’t worry about it, I clean up before I close the store,” He shrug and Jimin nods apologetically. He bows again and turns to leave until he reaches the door and Yoongi’s voice stops him.

“Yeah?” He asks.

Yoongi comes out from behind the counter, he picks up a card looking like thing and walk over to Jimin doubtfully. He does present a card, a pastel card. Jimin takes it confusingly.

“My number is on the back…if-if you wanna talk sometimes,” He shrugs, mouth pinned together as he dances on the ball of his feet.

“Th-thank you,” Jimin nods, clutch his fingers around the card as he looks bashfully at Yoongi.

“Wait a second?” He asks if Jimin who nods assuringly.

Yoongi goes behind the shelves to look for a flower, once he finds it, he cuts the stem of the flower and rush to his desk where Jimin notice him carefully. He cleans the stem of thorns and wraps a foil paper around it to secure the stem. Then he sprinkles water on it and hums to himself.

Yoongi looks up to see Jimin looking at him, head titled. When the younger notice and it’s too late, he just smiles and bite his lips. Yoongi approaches him a shows him a pink rose.

“For you,” Yoongi whispers.

Jimin takes it and rolls the stem around his fingers. He takes a whiff of the flower and notice the natural smell of it. He opens his eyes and notice Yoongi smiling.

“What does it mean?” He asks.

Yoongi blushes then because he didn’t Jimin would ask.

“Uh…um, it, uh,” He stutters and Jimin comes closer as if promoting Yoongi, “It means happiness,” He breathlessly answers.

“Really?” Jimin doubtfully ask, taking a whiff again.

“Ye-yeah, I hope you can overcome this sadness and become happy again,” Yoongi wishes, looking away to the far wall as he can feel his blush working up his neck. Fuck.

“I’m happy now,” Jimin answers, it make Yoongi’s breath hitch as he looks at Jimin who’s sharing the contact.

“O-okay,” He nods.

“I’ll go,” Jimin says and he means it.

Don’t.

“Yeah,” Yoongi moves back to create a distance. Even with surrounded by flowers and Jimin holding a bouquet, Yoongi can only smell the scent of the younger. Sweetness.

“Thank you, Yoongi-ssi,” Jimin thanks him again.

“Hyung is fine,” Yoongi shyly mutters.

“Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin tests on his lips and nods in appreciation. He waves a goodbye at Jimin and leaves the shop, with bells chiming.

Yoongi falls back on stool with his heart going ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.

And if his friends wonder how Jimin willingly comes to Yoongi and shyly talks to him and calls him hyung, then yes, Yoongi exaggerates his story of how he met Jimin on a spring day.

With every version exaggerated.

[oh-beyond]

The Postman AU - Part 4

Your parents tried to have children for years… They were desperate to conceive a child, almost gave up on the idea, until finally your mother got pregnant with you. Fragile child, born underweight and prematurely. You were the light of their eyes. Now you were a teenager and still treated you as if you were going to get broken. Homeschooled and trapped in your house. You didn’t need anything from the outside world.

Nothing. Until you saw the postman one day.

Angst/Fluff/Smut

Lay x reader

Masterlist

< Part 3 - Part 5 > 

Summary: Yixing learns that even though everything looks bright, he still can’t have everything.

“YOU DID WHAT!?”

“As you heard it Marie, and he is coming for dinner to officially ask for ___’s hand in marriage”

“Changwook oppa!”

“I will not hear anything negative about this, Zhang Yixing is going to be your son-in-law, whether you like it or not Marie”

*****

“You got her pregnant!”

“What? Shut up Baekhyun”

“Then give me an explanation to this”

“It seems odd alright Yixing my friend, Moon Changwook? Asking you to marry his daughter? And pay your tuition? What in return?” asked Junmyeon rubbing his chin narrowing his eyes.

“My tuition in return of marrying his daughter. That way I can send money to my mother without having to work. He said he will help me with that too”

“Then she must be ugly” teased Baekhyun.

“No she isn’t!”

“What’s the catch, I agree with Junmyeon-ah here” added Yifan that was having  none of this.

“She is sick, he needs me to take care of her forever” he replied naively.

“See? Now it’s starting to make a little bit of sense Yixing didi” said Luhan patting his friend’s back.

“No, no, I think I might of worded that wrongly”

“No hyung, you actually didn’t. The man is cunning, he isn’t giving you anything for free here. You are marrying his sick daughter that can’t be a wife fully”

“Baekhyun-ah!” spatted all at the same time.

“But it’s true! Why would you take a sick girl and make her your wife? You haven’t even had a girl before and this man wants you to marry his defective daughter”

“I can’t believe I am hearing this” said Yixing getting on his bike “and I certainly don’t want to”

“Wait Yixing” called Junmyeon "ignore Baekhyun you know how he is. I’ll come with you to the dinner, but firstly let’s dress you to Moon Changwook’s standards, you are no less than him. In the contrary you will be better than him in every sense”

A week later...

“Dress nicely ___, we have an important visit today”

“Appa please, I don’t want to be in another boring party with your partners, I will read a book instead”

“Why are you said baby?”

“Nothing, It will go away”

“You liked going to the lake ___?”

“I did, and I miss Zhang Yixing, was he fired? Did mom do something or asked you to-”

“Get dressed, wear that pink dress I got you from Nagoya last time”

“Sure appa”

Your mom helped you get ready, she was acting very strangely, you watched her reflexion in the mirror, she looked melancholic as she brushed your hair.

You didn’t dare asking her, but she definitely didn’t look happy at all, even though she was wearing one of her best dresses looking stunning herself. You assumed that she might not be in the mood to meet with other the partner’s wives today. She was antisocial anyhow and she disliked having a lot of people in the house.

“Samo-nim, they have arrived” announced Ada.

Your mom just nodded fixing your earrings “we will be right there”

“Mom? Mom are you crying?”

“I’m alright, just- let’s go”

“Mom? What’s wrong?

“Come on they are waiting for you”

“For me?” you exclaimed walking behind her “who? Who Mom!? Mom!”

And there he stood, Zhang Yixing, looking painfully gorgeous. Your heart racing uncontrollably when you noticed how well groomed he was and how natural he looked in your house, standing in the front hallway, your father greeting him and another young man next to him.

Yixing looked up meeting your shellshocked gaze. You had to hold onto the handrail because it felt dizzy suddenly. He was just as shy as you were, but at the same time he looked confident and too handsome for your poor health to handle.

“Come on ___, get down already and greet the guests”

You went down, slowly, never breaking eye contact with Yixing, he was blushing and kept rubbing the back of his neck, noticing his handsome friend patting on his back.

Finally you walked towards them hooking your arm with your dad’s.

“I know you are surprised honey, but this dinner is for you. Please greet the guests”

“Hello, I am Kim Junmyeon” you extended your hand and he shook it shaking it enthusiastically.

“Hi ___, how have you been?” said Yixing taking your hand placing a light kiss on it.

You flinched at the contact, immediately looking at your dad and searching for your mother who wasn’t even there anymore.

Your father smiled before guiding Junmyeon to the living room leaving you with Yixing alone.

“What are you doing here?” you whisper-shouted “what is happening? Why haven’t you delivered the mail all this time? What are you wearing?”

“Shhh, come on let’s not keep them waiting” he said placing his hand on the small of your back making you shiver “you look so pretty ___, so much that I want to kiss you, like the other day”

“Yix-”

“Guys are you coming?” asked your dad.

“Yes, yes sajang-nim”

The dinner was placid enough, most of the time was your dad getting really interested in Junmyeon’s family business, your mother took an obvious interest too. And that was all good because it left you with loads of opportunity to look at your angel. He was adorable as he chew on his steak, he was confused to see the amount of cutlery not knowing which fork to use, the cherry on the top was when he poured water in the wine glass, he was so cute. Bless his soul, you were starting to have the urge to feel his chest next to your ear, to hear his heartbeats, to make sure that all this was real and not a dream.

“Desserts are to be served in the garden please Ada”

“Yes sajang-nim”

“It’s too cold outside, ___ can’t come out” stated your mom.

“She can Marie, please Ada get something warm for ___”

When Ada came back with a quilt, Yixing took it from her hands wrapping you with it. They all went quiet watching the scene, you felt exposed because your cheeks heated up clearly giving away how affected you were at his proximity.

You sat in the garden swing, Yixing was hesitant for a moment before sitting next to you.

You ate desserts in complete silence, your mother had her eyes fixated on Yixing and you noticed how hard it was for him to even swallow.

Random conversations that took at least an hour before your father started asking Yixing questions about China and his studies.

“So I think Yixing has something to say? Right son?”

“Ah yes, yes” he looked at Junmyeon for support, he smiled and nodded.

“Yeah tell us our dear beloved postman what you have to tell us”

Your dad elbowed your mom for her to stop, Yixing cleared his throat resting his arms on his thighs entwining his fingers together.

“I- well I would really hope… I mean-”

“Yes son?”

“I-“

“Come on Yixing-ah” said Junmyeon with a bright smile.

It made you nervous, could it be?

“I would like to maybe ask ___’s hand in marriage? Please?”

Your mother scoffed looking the other side, you knew she was most probably cursing under her breath, her face factions turning into menacing. But that didn’t matter when you saw your father’s reaction, he smiled and relaxed his back in the chair.

“I will- I will finish my studies, and I will be a doctor, and I will make you proud of me. I promise sajang-nim”

“___ is 17” stated your mom.

“Well, I mean if ___ is alright with the proposition, they could get engaged now and maybe get married after Yixing finishes”

“But appa! That is too far away”

“What do you say Yixing?”

“I think we could get married, she won’t distract me. I can do it”

Your father got up and so did Yixing, he hugged him and tapped his back “just take it easy boy, we will discuss the details later. Congratulations!”

You stood up not believing what was happening.

“So you agree ___? Will you be happy to marry Dr. Zhang Yixing?”

“Appa! Yes?”

“Yes honey, I am happy for you” he hugged you lifting you off the ground spinning you around.

Your mother couldn’t take the sight, she stood up getting inside the house ignoring everything. It pained Yixing but he didn’t want to ruin the happy moment.

Junmyeon tapped on Yixing’s back “this suits you my friend, congratulations, your bride-to-be looks like she really likes you” he whispered in his ear.

Yixing giggled now looking at his friend who was now congratulating your father. It was now time to face you, look into your eyes, his fiancée’s eyes.

His bride.

“Is this happening? ___? You will be my wife?”

“Guys, I think you should get inside, it is kind of chilly” suggested your father winking.

“And I will take my leave, I have work tomorrow morning” announced Junmyeon.

“Don’t worry we will drive Yixing back home, thanks for coming” 

Your dad guided Junmyeon to the door while you took Yixing’s hand to get inside. He let himself get dragged by you thinking that this couldn’t just be real. He was there, walking in your house, with the knowledge of your parents. You, his fiancée.

His.

You finally stopped turning around to face him. He didn’t even notice where you had taken him lost in the thought that he was going to be able to tell you how happy he was without feeling any guilt.

“This is my favourite part of the house”

“Mine too”

“Silly Yixing, it’s the first time you’ve been here” you said slapping his chest lightly.

“It is because you are in it” he confidently said bringing you closer to him from the small of your back.

“Oppa” you struggled to verbalise.

He tugged a strand of hair behind your ear, his gaze intense and mighty enough to melt metal. He blinked slowly caressing both cheeks, scanning your face in detail. It was intense. Everything about today was intense, you wanted to ask a million things, but you also wanted to stay like this. In silence. Looking at each other..

“You will be my bride ___. Mine, for me. You will be mine” the gruff in his voice and low tone… the amount of times he said ‘mine’

You trembled, you blushed, but nothing like when you felt his fingers travelled to your jawline.

“Oppa”

“You are so delicate, so beautiful, so unique and pretty” you felt his nose nudging your neck as he spoke those words “I will be the best husband, you wait and see, you will be proud of me. I’ll take care of you and love you forever. This I promise you”

“Alright, you are speaking ahead of yourself Yixing my dear”

Both of you flinched at the poisonous voice of your mother speaking way too close.

“Mom!”

“Samo-nim!”

Both of you spatting at the same time.

“Follow me, and you ___, to your room. We will have a word tomorrow about this”

“But mom!”

“NOW!”

You huffed in discontent and did as she ordered. Leaving Yixing to face his fate. Your mom was already upset about all this. The scene she witnessed wasn’t helping the cause.

He followed her in silence till they arrived at the impressive kitchen.

“Stay here”

He didn’t dare to argue, he just stood watching her bring a bottle of wine and 2 glasses.

“This is a wine glass, same one you used to drink water. Not blaming you of course, how would an ignorant hungry beggar like you ever know something like this?”

She poured a glass extending her hand “here”

“No samo-nim, I don’t drink”

Your mom scoffed turning her face before she bursted into jerks of sarcastic laughter.

“Yeah I guess you can’t afford it. Hasn’t your decent handsome friend ever invited you to drinks?”

“I don’t drink” he repeated.

“Take it! You will need it for this conversation. Don’t keep my hand extended for too long beggar”

Yixing exhaled trying to keep composure, when he went to take the glass she let it fall to the floor. The glass naturally shattered into pieces the dark red substance creating a mess.

After gasping and acknowledge what just happened he lifted his head to meet with the sinister and satisfied grin your mother wore.

“Clean it!”

“Excuse me?”

“Clean the mess you made!”

“I didn’t do anything”

“Yes you did, are you arguing with me beggar? You irked me, therefore you did. Now clean and clean my feet” she added giving him a cloth.

Yixing crouched in the floor as she lifted her foot to his face level “like this you look much better, exactly where you belong”

“Samo-nim-”

“You filthy rat! Opportunist… you might of have fooled my kindhearted husband and my naive daughter, but not me”

“I didn-”

“You will get your tuition paid to be a respectful doctor and on top of that my precious daughter. What do we get in return?”

“I will protect her, and love he-”

“She doesn’t fucking need protection from a rat like you” her voice full of disgust “and don’t you dare touch her ever again, you filthy postman. Disappear and don’t dream big. Now clean all this before you leave”

He thought about it. He was dreaming big, the tuition, his mother never needing anything ever again plus a bride. The bride of his dreams really. Pure, elegant, beautiful, loving, cute and naive for him to shape and mould as he pleases.

And sick.

Weak.

While he was healthy and any girl would love to have him.

Why was he thinking of the situation with different eyes right now? Perhaps was the way Marie talked to him? He was trying to find the proof that he wasn’t an opportunist but in the contrary he was going to carry burden.

“Yixing? Son I was looking all over for you? What are you doing?”

“Ah sajang-nim, I just dropped it and...”

“Nonsense, Dr. Zhang Yixing himself?”

“Sajang-nim” he spoke trying not to seem affected “thank you”

“Call me abeoji from now on. What’s wrong son?”

“I don’t think I can do this? I feel like I am taking advantage of ___”

 “Yixing listen, don’t say that, ignore Marie, she is just stubborn, look how happy you are making ___, she’s never been this happy, you will bring her the joy that I can’t or her mother can’t bring her. I really mean it”

“Can I just tell her goodbye?”

“I’ll give you 10 minutes, she’s in her room” your father tapped Yixing’s shoulder.

“But-”

“Marie... I will distract her, now go” he motioned with his hand for him to go.

“___, can I come in? ___!” whispered Yixing.

“Oppa?” you opened the door surprised.

Yixing covered your mouth with his hand making you walk backwards as he looked behind him making sure no one heard. His neck was stretched right in front of your eyes... his neck... his neck veins... 

Zhang Yixing was just perfect, you were afraid to unwrap him to reveal more greatness, he was out of this world, more beautiful than any model from your magazines.

He closed the door pushing it lightly with his foot as one hand was still covering your mouth, the other over your hip.

“That was so loud ___” he whispered.

He was warm, you didn’t want him to let go of you, if anything maybe get closer.

“What? Why are you looking at me like th-aaat oh... what are you wearing? Not wearing? I’m sorry, I’ll better leave” he stuttered removing his hands in panic placing them behind his back looking away when he realised you were basically only wearing a pyjama top, and didn’t have the time to wear the lower part to it. 

“Wait, you just came”

“But you...”

“I’ll get dressed, don’t go” 

You walked to towards your en-suite bathroom to get the other piece of clothing missing, he looked at his feet bitting on the inside of his cheek, scolding himself for even thinking of looking at you as you walked away.

But his demos won the battle. He darted his gaze and took in your body from behind as you walked. You were very petite, but surprisingly where he was looking you were just perfect, rounder than expected.

You came back dressed smiling brightly.

“Oppa!”

“I really need to get going, I just came to ask you a question. Are you really happy? You won’t regret marrying me?”

“Should I ask that question instead? Look at me, I’m nothing, I’d probably get weak if you hug me too tightly or if you kiss me or if we...”

“If we what?”

“I...”

“You are so cute, I love you ___, I really do” he caressed your hair coming closer “I will take care of you”

“You won’t hate me for being weak? What if I can’t do those things?”

“You will, we will... listen, I need to go, but leave the back door open. I’ll come back”

With that he disappeared.

**** 

It was warm, your bare thighs feeling his legs entwining with yours, a sudden tug at your waist as his arm wrapped securely around your waist, his nose at the back of your neck hearing his pants clearly in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. 

“___, wake up”

You hummed, but you couldn’t wake up, you were tired, your body exhausted from all the excitement of the day before.

“Oppa”

“At your service my bride” his voice sounding husky, making all your hairs stand.

He pressed his chest to your back fully, feeling more of him. All of him. He was strong and healthy... and you couldn’t even open your eyes.

“Please? Or maybe you need to be awoken like sleeping beauty? Is that it?” he asked detaching himself, letting your back flat on your mattress.

You smiled, your eyes still closed, waiting for his lips to mould over yours.

“I am not going to until you ask me to”

“But I’m not pretty now” you whined slowly opening your eyes.

He was way closer that what you thought he would be. You felt his fingertips tracing your lips, you found yourself wanting to touch his hair that fell over his forehead.

“You are always pretty, I was watching you sleep for a good while. I can’t believe you are going to be mine” he continued now his fingers getting bolder travelling to your exposed skin at your collarbones.

He exhaled loudly, you noticed his Adams apple bobble nervously so you closed your eyes at the sight. Your body felt warm and you liked the overwhelming sensation.

You felt his nose nudging yours as if asking you permission for his next move that was imminent, resting his hand bellow your ear. He lowered himself further his lips finally landing over yours, this time harder than the last time he kissed you. He pressed them and you heard his loud exhales that fanned over your face. You were trembling again, but so was he. You felt it when your hand fisted his shirt.

“___, what have you done to me?”

“Oppa, I can’t breath”

“Neither can I” he said before claiming your lips again.

He angled perfectly to make you part your own, and when you did he lost control. He kissed you sloppily, almost as naive and innocent as you.

Inexperienced.

He lost himself and his tight grip made you dizzy, excited but anxious at the same time.

He moved to your chin peppering open mouth kisses travelling to your jaw and collarbones.

“Oppa~~~” your voice no longer audible even to you.

“Yes baobei, yes, yes” 

His kisses harder, felt like he would bruise your skin. It was a sweat pain that you wished you could exchange, but your limbs felt numb, as if you had left your body and could no longer even fist his shirt.

“I can’t, I can’t breathe” you whispered.

“You are so soft, you smell so good, my baobei. Wo ai ni, wo ai ni baobei, xie xie baobei, wo ai ni” 

He started blabbering in Chinese, and as much as it turned you on, you were really struggling to breathe.

“Oppa, move!”

Yixing felt as if a ton of bricks just fell over his head. He detached his lips from your neck in alarm, you were panting heavily, you still looked delicious and it make him feel bad that he wanted to continue.

“___! What’s wrong?”

“I can’t breathe, I am sorry oppa, I want to, but I can’t”

His excitement died when he realised how selfish he was being, he knew you were weak, but his greed...

Even tho it was going to be really hard.

He decided not to touch you ever again...

_____________________

A/N: Thanks for reading, feedback always welcomed. ^_^