#it’s been five years and I found a Polaroid while cleaning my room and now I’m. bawling again lmao.

[widowshill]

hey so like how long does it take to get over that friend you were in love with

[glitterge1pen]

Have You Ever Considered Craft Supplies Instead Of Drugs? Then This Might Be For You.

Kyōtani Kentarou x reader, sfw, fluff, 1,691word count 

His room for the most part was clean. It’s main function was for sleep though. This was apparent. His clothes, which were mainly basketball shorts and blank t-shirts, were scattered about in a way that told you he threw them there when going to bed.

Kyotani had told you to give him a few minutes, while he was in the bathroom brushing his teeth and struggling with the cap of his eyeliner pen. You felt comfortable enough in his apartment to check the fridge and see if anything was worth your while. But still you felt a bit like an intruder in his bedroom, which is where you had wandered off to.

The walls were white, mostly bare. There was a poster up for some band you didn't recognize, and another one advertising the Sendai Frogs that looked like he had ripped it off one wall to get onto his. You smiled at the thought of him stealing the poster from the grocery store display window or stadium parking lot.

You give his room one last once over before turning to leave. On your way out you trip over a shoe box. You would have just ignored it but a few tufts of paper flew out from the lid. You bend down to collect them but find that these aren't just trash from the shoe box. Quietly, and with a tinge of guilt, you kneel down to gently put the papers back in the box. The little scraps of paper you had found were actually sticky notes, you couldn't decipher the writing on them because of how faded and old the paper was.

You get one quick glimpse inside the shoe box on Kyotani’s floor. There are dozens of papers, printed photos, receipts, tickets, and what you assume are old keys. You feel like you've seen something very private of Kyotani’s and when you turn around to find him standing in the doorway, you gasp in shock.

“What are you doing in here?”

He seems more concerned and confused about you versus the fact that you are in his room. You decide sarcasm is the best choice of action.

“What? You embarrassed about me being in your bedroom?”

“Shut up and get out!”

Kyotani puts his hands on your shoulders and tosses you out into the hallway.

“Hey, hey, what time is it because we might actually be late to the movie now,”

You say pulling out your phone to get a glance at the clock. There was only twenty minutes before you were supposed to be at the theater.

“We’ll be fine, the trailers always play for too long anyways”

He says leading you out the front door.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

When the team wins a game and you head out to eat with the guys afterwards, your eyes don't usually follow Kyotani’s hands so closely. You hope that no one else has picked up on your new habit. But last week's venture into his bedroom has left you reeling in thought.

Kyotani doesn't really like to be hugged. During movie nights he sits separate from the pile of pillows and bodies. He tolerates head pats and high fives. When he hangs up the phone you can feel how difficult it is for him to say something like “bye I love you” platonic or not.

You hadn't really considered it before, at least not so intently in relation to Kyotani. Most people were easy to understand in their affections and how they garnered it. Or if they weren't so obvious, they made some sort of distinction, a simple “I don't like when people do this” or “I prefer this”.

Being friends with Kyotani you had assumed that he was content with what people gave him because he never asked for more. He didn't hug you when you two parted ways, and you never forced him to. He didn't ask or push on others boundaries but now after seeing that shoe box you wondered why he had never advocated for his own. You thought perhaps it wasnt that Kyotani disliked those other forms of affection or care, but rather he didn't regard those other acts as affections at all.

The sounds of the restaurant fade back in as your thoughts simmer down. You feel Tsukishima and Yamaguchi next to you. Enthralled in a conversation about some show they had been binging together. Apparently Yamaguchi had watched a few episodes without Tsukishima and everyone found the annoyed, bitter expression on Tsukishima hilarious, the table erupting in laughter.

“You good? You've been staring at nothing for five minutes,”

Kyotani said to you before taking another bite into his food. He sat across from you, his elbows propping him up over his plate of food.

“Yeah, just tired today,”

You say shaking your head as if trying to wake yourself up.

As the evening wears on, your eyes still follow Kyotani’s hands. Trying to catch the moment of thievery in action. To see if your contemplations are grounded in Kyotani’s actions or rather thoughts with nothing to hold as they pass you by.

But as everyone files out of the restaurant, the bill already split, the copy of the receipt abandoned on the table, you watch as Kyotani lingers for just a moment, to pocket the slip of paper.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

You couldn't remember the last time you had attempted to burn a CD. Was it you who did it or a friend? It was years ago though that was for sure. You had made three playlists on spotify, checking and double checking that they were private playlists. After arranging them and finding the songs that fit just right with each list you started finding youtube videos of each song. From there you converted the links to MP3 audio.

While your computer whirred and the audio filed loaded onto the disk you thought about decorating the CD cases. Of course covering the clear plastic case with glitter gel pen and cute stickers was very tempting. But you weren't sure that was Kyotani’s style. At the same time this was supposed to be a gift from you. You met yourself halfway.  Decorating one CD case like how you would have wanted, and the other with more of a Kyotani flair, the third somewhere in between the two.

When the CD’s were done you carefully placed them into their new plastic homes. Grabbing a black sharpie to scribble the playlist names onto each. You felt like wrapping them would be too extravagant so you settled for tying a ribbon around the two.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

“What the hell do you want?” Kyotani says as he pulls up next to you on the curb outside your place. You had texted him earlier while he was at work, asking if could stop by after he got off. He has the window rolled down and you take it upon yourself to unlock the passenger door and climb inside.

"I wanted you to test these out"

You were hoping that you had done everything right with the computer.You hand him the CD's, he flips them over in his hands inspecting them.

“Is it cool if I take these ribbons off?”

You nod and he turns the car radio on to insert the CD’s. As the first song starts playing you turn to him.

“This is that band you like right? The one on that poster in your room?”

Kyotani is visibly flustered by this.

“Yes? Did you...did you make these for me?”

You throw your head back in a laugh.

“Yes, I made them for you,”

“Oh,”

He says in a rather soft amazed tone.

“Look, I didn't mean to, but when I was in your room the other day I tripped over that shoe box you have,”

You keep your eyes trained on the street outside the dashboard window. Unsure and a bit nervous to see what Kyotani is thinking. Tempted by curiosity though, you do look at him for a brief moment, only to find him also intensely staring off into the street. His face lit up red with embarrassment.

“I’m glad that I saw it though. Because that stuff is important to you and I want to know what you think is important”

The air in the car feels like it is clinging to your skin with tension. You think the pressure will start to crack your bones when Kyotani’s voice splinters the suspense.

“It's easier to feel something when its tangible, when you can hold it, it's why people still buy polaroids and go to museums and shit”

You nod, a jovial ease overcoming you as he continues to speak.

“I don't really like, uh, I guess physical affection or even talking or it’s not like talking, people call it words of affirmation or whatever,”

You hold the smile of your lips down, you don't want him to think you’re teasing him in this moment. You're just happy that he is comfortable enough with you to say such things.

“I know lots of other people like to have those types of things though, and I worked really hard to get used to stuff, but I don't know, this is what I like,”

He says gesturing with the CD case to you.

“I mean so like, birthday cards, post-it notes, bus transfers? Things that are directly attached to memories and people? Anything else you want me to know about?”

While it hurts a little that he’s struggling to talk about this matter, you can't help but revel in the unusual brash shyness of Kyotani. He does mutter something, but when you lean in closer to signal that you didn't hear him the first time he repeats himself.

“Event pamphlets. I know it's trash but I like it”

“Promise you won't get mad?”

You drawl your voice out and make it sweet so he knows you're messing with him.

“Hm?”

He says, eyebrow quirked in question.

“I think you'd be really into scrapbooking”

“Shut the hell up before I kick you out of my car”

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

A/N: Took a break from my current writing obsession to spit this out .

[hargrove-mayfields]

Just A Dream Away

Chapter 10/13 read here on ao3!

for @harringrovebigbang

~~~~

Kali gives an awkward little wave, and the room once again falls into chaos.

Everyone had so many questions, all of them shouted out at the same time to be answered by Kali or El, who was clearly overwhelmed by all of this noise. Steve understands, all the commotion makes him feel jumpy too, his nerves stretched thin.

It’s Joyce who calms them all down, appreciating the sense of urgency that came with their arrival, guiding El to elaborate, “Kali is number 8. She was in the lab with me.”

“Jane came and found me two years ago, but we were.. separated again.” Her face looks reserved and sad as she explains, and they all get the sense that that isn’t the full story.

El grasps Kali's hand a little tighter, “I don’t have my powers, but Kali does.”

“With them, I should be able to find your friend and assist them.” The determination in Kali’s voice makes them all feel somewhat better, the situation one they never thought they’d have to be in again, so having someone who knew what to do was comforting.

To everyone except for Steve.

He doesn’t like leaving this mission, the efforts that would save his Billy, up to the charge of Kali, who was to him a complete stranger. He had been able to get this far, finding and communicating with Billy, it feels like giving up to let someone else he didn’t know or trust yet be in control.

“What can you do then?” His question comes out snappy, his tone surprising to the kids, who were optimistic that Kali could help.

In response to his bitterness, she doesn’t say anything at all, only smirking at the challenge he had given her.

From Steve’s perspective, all of the lights go out, and he’s suddenly in the room by himself. Only because he'd just asked about her powers did he consider that this was an illusion, but all the same, he feels like his feet are going to go out from under him, and his heart is beating unusually fast.

He turns to Kali, watching the slow drip of blood from her nose that she quickly wipes away with her sleeve that confirms his suspicion, “What the hell was that?”

Smugly, Kali responds, “I can make anyone see anything I want them to. I just sent you to the dream circle.”

“How does that help us?” Robin asks on Steve’s behalf, though her intentions are nowhere near as harsh as his.

“It doesn't, but I also have access to the dream circle. From there, my powers can reach your friend and help him.” Kali explains, El nodding and adding onto the end, “Billy was strong in the dream circle. It will work.”

Quick glances around the room confirm they’re all in agreement that this is the best shot they have, so next step is coming up with a sound plan.

Kali starts by asking, “So who is it I am looking for?”

Max immediately begins to describe her brother in detail, “His name is William Hargrove, but he goes by Billy. He’s blonde and his eyes are dark blue. He’s about the same height as Steve, and he has a tattoo.“

Steve cuts her explanation short when he pulls out a little Polaroid he always keeps in his pocket of Billy.

It’s a shot he’d taken of him after a basketball game, the both of them bored in the back of the bus for a five hour drive. It’s a little blurry and washed out from the flash, but it was the realest smile he’d ever captured from him, crooked and wide, his eyes wrinkled at the corners as he threw his head back to laugh at something stupid Steve said. He keeps all of the pictures they’d taken in a box shoved under his bed, but this one is special, so he keeps it close.

Only hesitantly does he hand it to Kali without a word, Max stopping mid-sentence and looking at Steve, a cross between sympathy and jealousy that he had a memento of her brother in her features, the kids who still didn’t know giving him strange looks. They all recognize that now isn’t the time to interrogate Steve about keeping photos of Billy though, so it goes unmentioned.

Kali carefully takes it, sensing his hesitation, “You’re sure this is him?”

Steve nods, “He contacted us earlier and told me.”

“How did he do that?” Kali frowns, approaching the coffee table.

“We asked him questions, and he used this to answer.” He explains, gently touching the planchette. Kali looks at the board, surprised and impressed that something so cheap could be used for interdimensional communication that took years of practice for her and her sister.

“Did he tell you anything that could be of importance to us?”

“He just said there were still monsters over there, but that they come and go.” Steve says, leaving out the parts where Billy talked about their relationship.

“And how long has he been in there?”

“Since last year.” Steve answers, and suddenly Kali's face looks solemn, warning gravely, “Then you understand then that even if we do get him out of there, he might not survive.”

“What?” Steve and Max exclaim at the same time.

“The air is extremely toxic over there, and now that Billy has been there for so long, there is a chance he will not be able to adjust to our environment.” She explains, carefully holding Billy’s picture in both hands, looking down at it as she promises, “That isn’t to say I won’t try. I just want you to be realistic.”

El offers, doesn’t like the sad look on Max’s face, “We don’t know how it is like now. Billy is okay.”

They clear away some of the lights they’d set out and turn the TV back to static. The coffee table's surface is cleaned off except for Billy’s picture and Kali sits on the floor in front of it where Steve and Max had been, a piece of an old dish cloth Robin’s mother had given her when she’d moved out as a blindfold.

El and Max sit on either side of Kali, while the boys pile onto the couch. Nancy leans against one of the arms, chewing on the corner of her nail. Robin had brought out extra dining chairs for Steve, herself and Joyce, and the latter two had sat down, but Steve paces back and forth across from Kali, nervous and scared after all she’d said.

Kali takes a deep breath, holding the makeshift blindfold in her hands. She looks to Steve and says, her voice confident, “Remember, no promises.”

El holds her sister’s hand tightly, leaning into her side with her eyes closed. Kali narrates what she sees, which is nothing but death. Dead demodogs, rotten plants, but no Billy, the lack of news setting Steve’s teeth on edge.

He doesn’t care that it seems empty, or that it was darker than before and the air thicker, he just wants to, no, needs to know where Billy is and that he is safe.

“Here. Billy is here.” Kali announces after more silence and searching the empty representation of Hawkins, following it up with a quiet, “He’s hurt. ”

Steve freezes, “Hurt? What happened? Is he okay?”

“Shh.” El puts a finger to her lips, so Kali continues, “There is a monster at his feet. It’s fully grown, but he has slain it. It attacked him and he tended his injuries, but he lost a lot of blood.”

Ignoring El’s warning, Steve prods, “Where is he now?”

“Patience, please. He’s in the woods, traveling between the home where my sister’s family once lived, and the woods behind his lover's home.”

“What the hell is he doing out there?”

“He’s looking for something. A gate. The monster he killed, the demogorgon as you call it, was looking for it too.” Kali takes off her blindfold, can’t do anything more from here, “With my powers I can show him the way to the gate, but only if we are close enough to him.”

“That’s it? We can’t talk to him, or do anything to help him?”

“We can, but not from the dream circle. We have to go where he is and try to guide him out.”

On the edge of manic, Steve insists, “Then let’s go. We have the people and we know where Billy is. What are we waiting for?”

“On that, we can agree.” Kali stands determinedly, wiping the blood from her nose, “We’ll have to hurry if we wish to save your friend.”

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Kevin Pickford

(Not my gif)(requested by anonymous)

(I love this pointless movie)

- You and Kevin meet after your friends convinced you to go to one of his parties. You could of made up ten different activities you’d rather do than go to a highschool keg party but your friends insisted and you soon found yourself packed into their car.

- Now you had had a little crush on Kevin for a while, ever since freshman year when you saw him for the first time, so even though you weren’t very excited to spend your night surrounded by your drunken peers you were a bit excited to maybe, hopefully see him.

- So you arrive at his house; let’s pretend this is another party that didn’t get shut down, and you walk through the front door to see the typical shit show. You stick by your friends for a while, nursing a beer and trying to convince yourself you’re having a good time. That is until your friends all but ditch you to go and mingle.

- Soon enough you’re all alone standing uncomfortably in the relatively abandoned kitchen. You’re debating the idea of just leaving, walking home didn’t seem all to bad given the circumstances, but just as you feel like you’ve made up your mind...in walks the host. You felt like your heart was going to jump out of your chest when you saw him, you stared down at your cup hoping he would just sort of ignore you as he rummaged for whatever it was he was looking for.

“How ya doin?” Shit.

- It seemed like he was just trying to be friendly so you gave him as much of a smile as you could muster and a small “fine” before glancing down at your drink again. From your experience this was usually when the person would just nod and walk out but he didn’t. He gathered the stuff he had came in for but paused at the counter.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around before... whats your name?”

- I think you’d have to be a year younger than him because if you were in his grade prior to this he would have asked you out or at least spoken to you before. So you’re a sophomore going into junior year and he’s a junior going into senior year.

“Oh you wouldn’t really know me, I’m a sophomore. My friends brought me, I’m y/n.”

“Oh cool man cool. I’m Kevin.”

“Yeah, I-uh, I know,” you chuckled a little. “Nice party.”

- He smiled and was about to say something before he was called back to the party by a loud shout. “Well I’m gonna go deliver the necess-it-ies. You should come out, join the living, raise a little hell.” And then he was once again lost in the sea of people flooding his living room.

- After he was gone you freaked out for a hot minute over the fact that you had just talked to your longtime crush. You decided that maybe you could stomach a little more of the party and took a deep breath before wandering out of the kitchen. It was maybe thirty minutes later that the two of you found each other again and started up a mini conversation.

- Soon enough the two of you were heading up to his bedroom so that you could actually hear each other speak. You spent a surprisingly long time just talking to each other while the party went on downstairs; it was four in the morning by the time you checked the clock again.

- You figured it was time for you to go home, so you stood up and began to say goodbye before he tried to convince you to stay a little longer. It’s nearly impossible to deny him, it’s pretty much been your dream for this exact scenario to happen. You promise to stay for another hour, which turns into another hour, and finally you really need to go so that you can avoid meeting your parents at the front door. He asks for your number and you write it down for him before you leave.

- You end up walking home in the rising sun which almost feels like the perfect way to end the night.

- He calls you a few days later asking if you’d want to come over which you obviously agree to. You get together, chat some more, listen to music, all that fun teenager shit. But then he leans over and kisses you, pulling away with that gorgeous smile of his and, well, you’re walking on clouds for the rest of the day.

- Later on you kiss some more and he gives you a “so does this mean you’ll be my girlfriend from now on, cause I think I’d like that, a lot”.

- Listen most of your dates are more or less just the two of you hanging out not really doing much besides enjoying each other’s company.

- But he does take you to a drive in restaurant for dinner so you can count that as your first “official” date. He wanted to “give a good first impression for your relationship”.

- You’re together like 90% of the time. The both of you are kind of clingy with each other and neither of you seem to mind.

- Whenever you’re together he always has some form of physical contact with you at all times.

- Sitting on his lap.

- He loves PDA but it’s mostly because he just loves affection in general.

- He’s a big baby who likes being cuddled and that’s a fact. He lowkey loves being the little spoon but it genuinely doesnt matter to him how you cuddle as long as you do it.

- Keeps tabs on you whenever you go out together. He usually stays close by or at least knows where you’re going to be, he likes to make sure you’re alright.

- You definitely have little routines together whether it be when his parents almost catch him smoking or cleaning up after a party or just when coming home from school.

- Helping to make sure his parents don’t catch him smoking in his room. You’re usually sent out to distract them or you clear things up while he talks with them.

- He’s so interested in your talents and hobbies, show him what you’re passionate about baby! He wants to know!

- Always being offered free booze or weed.

- Awkward first introductions to his friends when they crash one of your hangouts to try and buy some herb.

- Being invited to all of his and his friends parties.

- Helping him plan his parties.

- Helping him with all his antics.

- He’s always fiddling with something whenever you’re together so be prepared to see him doing something at any given moment in the corner of your eye.

- Making out, he could kiss for hours.

- Always having shotgun reserved for you.

- Laying on the hood of his car together and talking about random shit.

- Trying to hide your laughter while you listen to his weird weed fueled theories and stories.

- He shows off everything you make or do, he’s a subtle cheerleader.

- You spend most of your time in his room, sitting in his egg chair or on the windowseat while he smokes a joint.

- You’re constantly on the same wavelength.

 “Thats what I was gonna say!!”

- Braiding and running your fingers through his hair.

- He plays with your hair as well, twirling strands between his fingers and stroking it when you’re cuddling.

- He’s honestly so adorable and absolutely smitten with you. All his friends can tell he’s whipped but he doesn’t care.

- He thinks it’s so cute that you had a crush on him, well that’s if you ever admit it to him.

- Hand holding especially whenever you’re walking together.

- Staying up till dawn together.

- Making flower crowns together, dont deny it he’d do it. 

- His parents love you and are always really sweet, his mother is an absolute angel.

- He isnt going to force you to smoke with him but he does need you to accept that hes not stopping just because you dont want to. He’ll agree to not smoke around you because thats fair enough but he’ll still do it with his friends or on his own. I can assume you’re alright with that if you want a relationship with him.

- Kevins pretty chill so there’s rarely any fighting and the fighting you do have are more so just arguments rather than actual fullblown fights. They’re usually over a dangerous idea or stupid action he had/did. These arguments usually end with him realizing and admitting you’re right or saying how he can see why you’d think that. He gets it even if he doesnt think its as big of a deal as you do.

- Kevin is a moderately jealous person, he doesnt think every man you talk to is a threat to your relationship. He’s pretty calm, which is what you’d expect from a stoner, he more so just smirks at the guy he knows is flirting with you and shows that you’re his with an arm around your shoulder and/or a kiss. He never dwells on it or let’s it ruin your night. 

- He’s a very loyal boy, no cheating, no flirting with other girls. You’re the only girl he has eyes for.

- Swapping clothes and accessories.

- You share pretty much everything; food, drinks, homework, joints, a single braincell. 

- Going to the emporium and playing fooseball and pool together or jokingly cheering him on while he plays someone else.

- A lot of nicknames; he definitely calls you flowerchild and other very 70s sounding ones. 

- Having a lot of Polaroids together.

- Concert dates.

- Record store dates.

- Late night hangouts.

- Going on random trips to different stores to get food or drinks.

- Well if you’re becoming a junior then you’ll have a year in highschool without him in the near future. He doesn’t really mind waiting for you to graduate so that you can advance your relationship but it will bother him when he isn’t able to see you for more than six hours, five days a weeks

- Probably proposes to you in bed, late at night with a “how would you like to be a Mrs. Pickford?” while he spins the ring between his fingers.

[toplinetommy]

You Bring the Moon and Stars to Me (Part Six) - Tyson Jost

Synopsis: A Soulmate!AU where your soulmark only appears once you fall in love with your soulmate

Words: 5.6k

Warnings: none

a/n: thank you so much to @pizzasloot​ for proofreading!! as always, feedback is always welcome :-)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

March 2019 - Denver, CO

Planning a 21st birthday party for Tyson was way harder than you thought it would be, plain and simple. You thought your college days, when everyone was turning 21, would’ve prepared you for a few more, but boy, were you wrong. When girls turn 21, they want the big balloons and the cake with the Barbie on it, but what about guys? Not to mention, Tyson wasn’t even American, so the anxiety made you think he wouldn’t care as much as a typical  21-year-old American would.

Nevertheless, with help from JT, Kerfy, and Sammy, you were able to pull it off. You were able to corral a good chunk of the Avalanche roster to attend the party, plus some of Tyson’s friends outside of the team. Tyson knew you were planning something big for his birthday, but he was unsure of what it was exactly other than throwing a pregame at the Rookie House and then going bar hopping downtown. 

While he and the rest of the Avs were at practice this morning, and while you and Caitlyn were on your lunch break at work, you snuck into the Rookie House to lightly decorate the place. You decided to get the typical big ‘21’ balloons in silver, alongside a hefty lineup of alcohol. You somehow convinced yours and Caitlyn’s boss to take a longer lunch, in exchange for not taking lunch the next day, so you were able to take your time and be there when Tyson got home from morning skate.

You had just finished laying out his birthday present on his bed when you heard the garage door opening, causing a flight of anxiety to course through you as you rushed up the stairs taking them two at a time. As you settle next to Caitlyn in front of the decorations, Tyson, JT, and Kerfy walk through the garage door together, still caught up in their previous conversation.

“Happy birthday!” The two of you yell excitedly, causing Tyson to turn his head from his friends and to the two of you in the living room. His face erupts in a smile, eyes moving back and forth between you and Caitlyn and the decorations that are set up. He’s in awe as he looks at the array of silver balloons, the small birthday cake placed on the coffee table, and the ‘finally 21 and legal in America’ banner. 

He reaches the two of you, giving Caitlyn a quick hug while thanking her before he embraces you in his arms tightly, “Thank you.”

He pulls away, and you rub your hands along his shoulders and biceps as he moves completely away. “You guys didn’t have to do this.”

“We know, but we wanted to,” you say, gesturing between you and Caitlyn. She smiles at you, hiding the fact that you essentially had to beg her to come help and that all of this was 100% your idea. Both JT and Kerfy comment on the decorations before disappearing into the rest of the house. 

“Where did you get this banner?” He chuckles, pointing to the black lettering being held up by a string. You and Caitlyn both laugh, knowing it was a funny and somewhat dumb addition to the decorations.

“This shop on Etsy does custom ones,” You answer. “I thought it’d be funny.”

“I love it,” He smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and bringing you into his side. You check your watch to see the time, noticing that you and Caitlyn need to head back to your office soon.

“We have to get back to work, but I did get you a present. It’s in your room if you want to go open it?” You ask. He nods his head excitedly and the two of you go downstairs, leaving Caitlyn in the living room.

He sees the medium-sized gift bag sitting nicely on the edge of the bed, grabbing it, and sitting down. He opens your card first, reading it to himself. You watch as his eyes move left-to-right on the card, seeing a smile forming on his face from both the card and the extra note you wrote on it. He sets the card down next to him while patting the same spot for you to take a seat beside him.

You sit down, eyes on him as he pulls the tissue paper and the contents from the bag. His eyes scan over the small package of ukulele strings, setting them down to the side and digging in the bag again. He pulls each item out one by one, his smile only getting bigger as he sees a shot glass that says ‘legal as fuck, eh’, a pair of diamond-patterned dress socks, and a framed Polaroid of the two of you from Gabe’s wedding last year.

“Where did you get this photo from?” He asks, closely examining it. It’s a candid picture of the two of you that he had never seen before. Tyson’s shirt was unbuttoned showing his torso, much like the rest of the guys there, the both of you mid-dance and he’s holding your hands in the air. Even with how blurry and small the photo is, yours and Tyson’s smile are clear as day.

“Sydney gave it to me after the wedding,” You answer, looking up at him. “I kinda forgot I had it because I found it the other day when I was cleaning. It got under my dresser somehow.”

“Y/n, this is amazing,” He admires, setting the items down and turning to look at you. “Thank you, so much, really.”

You smile sheepishly, your cheeks warming at the extra attention. He’s looking into your eyes when you turn to face him fully and he leans in to wrap his arms around you, bringing you in for yet another hug. A loud yell of your name from upstairs causes the two of you to pull away slightly.

“I gotta get back to work,” you whisper. Even as you started to pull away, getting ready to leave, Tyson doesn’t let you go as quickly. He dragged the arm that was around your back to where your neck met your shoulder. It feels like time is moving in slow motion as his eyes glance to your lips before back to your eyes.

“y/n! We have a meeting in 35 minutes, let’s go!” Caitlyn shouts once again, snapping the two of you back to reality. You stand up, hugging Tyson once more as he thanks you again for the gift.

--

By the time most of the Avalanche roster had made their way through the front door of the Rookie House, Tyson was already four shots and a mixed drink deep. He had insisted he take one with you the second you got back to his house after work, and had convinced you and his roommates to take a shot before anyone else arrived. 

Knowing he was going to start feeling the effects of the alcohol soon, you pulled him aside to take photos in front of the balloons and banner you had set up earlier. You hand your phone to Caitlyn and lean into Tyson’s side, him squeezing you impossibly close, causing a laugh to slip from your lips. You pose for a few more photos before having some other people join in for group shots. 

Once you get your phone back you look through them all, finding the best ones to post on Instagram. You choose two: one where Tyson’s arm is wrapped tightly around your waist and you’re leaning into his side, your hand splayed in his lower abdomen. The second one is more on the candid side. Your eyes are squinted close and your mouth is open, mid-laugh from Tyson pressing his fingers harshly into your side. Tyson continues taking photos while you edit them and open up Instagram typing out a caption before hitting post. Tyson feels the vibration of the notification in his pocket and pulls it out reading the caption and swiping through the photos. 

yourusername: happy 21st to my superstar of a best friend. glad you finally dont have to use your big-shot hockey player status to get into bars now! cheers to you💥

He laughs before typing out a comment and sliding his phone back into his pocket. 

josty17: thx for exposing me🙄

The pre-game is in full swing by the time everyone’s finally arrived. As Tyson’s best friend and designated drinking buddy, you give yourself the duty to make sure he always has a drink in his hand. As you’re making him his final drink before heading out to the bars, his large body collided with yours. 

“Hey best friend,” he greets, teeth shining under his wide smile under the kitchen lights. 

“Hey best friend,” you laugh, putting the cap back on the bottle of New Amsterdam in front of you. You grab the lemonade, opening it and filling the rest of the glass. “Here’s your refill.”

“Can we do another tequila shot?” He asks with pleading eyes. Luckily, he had an optional morning skate before their game tomorrow, while you on the other hand had an 8-5 job. The pleading eyes on Tyson’s face give you little room to say no, so you grab the bottle of tequila dramatically and the lime slices next to it. 

He grabs two shot glasses and you pour the shots, sprinkling salt onto yours and Tyson’s fists. You raise your glass to cheers his and give a quick toast,

“Here’s to being way more successful than I was at 21 and to this year being the best year yet. I love you and happy birthday superstar!” You cheer, clinking your glass with Tyson’s and downing the shot. 

Once Tyson finishes swallowing his shot, he cheers loudly, drawing the attention of those surrounding you. Tyson pulls you in for a hug, which is probably at least the thirteenth time he’s hugged you today, but you’re not complaining. 

“Thank you again for all of this, and for my gift earlier. This all means a lot.”

You laugh and shrug off the compliment, “it wasn’t just me, but you know I’d do anything for you and besides, you wouldn't have done anything big unless I took it over.” He laughs in agreement, knowing that he wasn’t one to pass up a party like this but would’ve never been the one to plan it for himself. 

Once he finishes the drink, the large group all starts ordering their Ubers or heading out in their own cars if they have someone to drive. Your group, consisting of Tyson, JT, Sammy, Gabe, and Tyson, all piles into the Uber that you ordered minutes ago. You’re all the first to leave, everyone in tow, all in agreement on the first bar to meet at.

As the night gets later, the rowdiness of the group of men you’re with only increases. It was a lot for you to handle at the start, the pressure to make this a good birthday for Tyson and being around so many of his friends in a larger than normal group only adding to it. The time was nearing last call at the last bar you were all at. The large group of broad hockey players had started to dwindle as guys headed home to get rest for tomorrow.

Tyson is starting to hit that stage of drunk where if he sits for too long, he’ll want to go to sleep, but at the same time, you can’t seem to keep him in one spot for more than a few minutes. Throughout the night, the boys had been feeding him shots, making sure that if they saw Tyson’s hands empty, they wouldn’t be for much longer. In order to keep him out for a little longer, you drag him to his feet from where he's sitting at the booth to the edge of the dancefloor where some of the guys are located.

As you approach Tyson, Gabe, and Nate, Tyson takes ahold of your hand, interlocking your fingers together, he leads you through the crowd. He looks back at you, with a wide smile as his expression is the only thing you see, the large crowd and bright neon lights turning into a blur. It was like he was trying to pull you closer to him with nothing but a subtle smirk and a twinkle in his eye; the twinkle in his eye causing you to match his smile with an equally wide one.

His shoulders are slouching and you’re somewhat surprised that his light blue button-up is still on over his black t-shirt and not tied around his waist, knowing he easily got overheated when he drank. Gabe embraces him in a bro hug, cheering loudly about how he’s still alive and that he better be ready for the game tomorrow. Tyson was well aware of tomorrow night’s game and made you promise him that you wouldn’t let him get too drunk, in hopes of his hangover being bearable in the morning. 

Because of this, you decide to leave the small group of guys to go get him water in hopes of clearing his head a little. When you get back to the group, Tyson doesn’t take notice of your sudden presence, even as you shove the water into his hands. “I think I’m going to invite her to Canada this summer,” he yells in a slur over the music to his teammates. 

“Who’re you inviting to Canada?” you ask, sticking your body fully into the circle. You stand next to him, hesitantly reaching for his free hand with one of yours to connect them again. He interlocks his fingers with yours without a thought and stares blankly towards you once the question has left your mouth. 

“Uhhh, no one,” he brushes off with a stutter. You look at him quizzically before ignoring what you heard, assuming the alcohol is what caused you both confusion. 

“Y/n, this is water,” he complains once he takes a sip. You laugh and roll your eyes at your friend. It was nearing one-thirty in the morning and he had already consumed more drinks than you could keep count of. He was clearly past the level of drunk, with how he was stumbling when he walked and slowly slurring his words as he spoke. 

“Drink it and we can get you another drink before we leave,” you negotiate. You assume he agrees to your negotiation as he chugs his water faster than you’ve seen him chug anything before. With his triumphant look as he shows you the now-empty glass, your plan failed you, and the guys surrounding you laugh knowingly.

“How about this? Nate and them will go get refills for all of us,” You eye Nate, Tyson, and Gabe as you speak. “And we can go get some fresh air outside and meet them back here in a few?” 

They all understand what you’re getting at, nodding their heads and saying they’ll see you in a bit before heading towards the bar. You tug on Tyson’s hand, heading for the front exit of the bar, maneuvering between the drunk and sweaty bodies. Once the Denver winter air hits both of your faces, you slyly pull out your phone to order an Uber back to his house.

You had let go of his hand once you got outside, and crossed your arms over your chest, phone still in hand. Tyson’s teeth chatter a little from the cold and he rests his head on your shoulder in hope of pulling any sort of warmth from your body.

Minutes pass by full of incoherent conversation from Tyson, most of it him telling you he’s cold and that he wants to go back inside, to which you respond with that you’ve only been outside for a few minutes. He easily believes the lie as another five minutes pass by and you’re shoving him into the backseat of an Uber. 

Once the door is closed behind you, he whips his head towards you, “Y/n! Where are we going? I thought we were just taking a break.”

“I’m taking you home, Tyson,” you explain. “It’s really late and you have a game tomorrow.”

He pouts at your explanation, but he stops complaining anyways. The bumpiness from the potholes on the ride home has him focusing on his breathing and leaning his head on your shoulder once again until you’re pulling him out of the car and to his garage.

He tries entering the code and after the fourth failure, you shove him aside, “What’s the code?”

“It’s 3717.” He mumbles.

You try the code and it doesn’t work and after your third attempt, it’s still not working. “It isn’t working, are you sure it’s 3717?”

“Nope,” He enunciates. 

You look at him with a deadpan expression, “Are you going to make me call your roommates to figure it out?”

“No, let me do it.” He asserts, throwing his arm over your shoulder and punching in the code, and the creak of the garage opening makes you let out a sigh. 

“What the fuck was the code?”

“A secret I’ll never tell,” he salutes, making his way to the mud-room door. As you walk behind him, you clench your fists in annoyance at your friend's actions, giving him the benefit of the doubt from his drunken state.

He stumbles up the small flight of concrete steps, walking inside and instantly heading to the kitchen to find some sort of snack to soak up the alcohol. The rustling of packages stops as Tyson whips around,

“I want a grilled cheese. Will you make me one? Please?”

You drop your shoulders in a groan, silently saying yes as you move to the fridge to grab the ingredients. You chuckle at the organic cheeses in the fridge and the weird oat nut bread he has. Tyson hops up onto the counter beside his stove, swinging his legs as he watches you prepare his sandwich. 

As you go to put the sandwich in the pan, his hand grabs yours pulling it back. “You forgot the pickles!” He exclaims, jumping from his spot to the fridge and pulling out a jar of bread and butter pickles. 

“That is the nastiest thing I’ve ever seen,” you fake gag. He places a handful of pickles on the sandwich and then moves back to his previous position on the counter. “I don’t think I can ever see you as the same person again.”

Tyson’s face fills with hurt, and you’re not quite sure if he’s faking it or the alcohol in his body actually makes him think that. 

“I hate pickles.” You state, eyeing him as you flip the sandwich over. 

“I feel like I’ve seen you eat one before.” He responds, dipping his fingers into the pickle jar and snacking on one. 

“Have you not noticed how I always give you my pickles when we eat out?” You ask, thinking back to the countless diner and sports bar trips where the first thing you’d do when you got your plate of food was give him your pickle. 

“Well, yeah,” he answers quickly with a shrug. “I just thought you did that because I like them so much.” He smiles at the memories, biting into one more pickles chip before clasping the lid back onto the jar. You smile softly at the thought, too, before turning off the stove and sliding the sandwich out onto a plate for your friend. 

He grabs the plate and instantly drags you down the stairs to his room where he plops on his bed, criss-cross applesauce, white Adidas still on his feet, causing you to rip his feet from underneath him.

“Tyson, your shoes are disgusting from the bar,” You puff, taking them off his feet since he was too preoccupied with his sandwich. He thanks you through a full mouth before you join him on his bed, folding your legs underneath you to mirror his position. 

“Slow down there, killer,” you joke as you notice how fast he’s eating and how many extra large bites he’s taken. He swallowed the last piece harshly before setting the plate on the ground at the foot of his bed. 

“Are you sleeping over?” He lays down, eyeing you with droopy eyes waiting for an answer.

“I can, but I have work early,” you remind him, shuffling to stand up from his bed as you itch the back of your arm. 

“So then you’re sleeping over,” He states matter of factly. His eyes are closed now as he senses the movements of you standing up from the bed. With it almost being two in the morning and you having work early in the morning, you really should get home but with the added time of needing an Uber from your alcohol consumption, you decide staying is best. You set a handful of alarms on your phone, making sure you leave enough time for you to drive back to your place, get ready, and then get to work, all before 8:30 am.

“Let’s get you changed. You want shorts?” You start. “They’re in your dresser, right?” You ask for clarification. You hear him say yes tiredly, and you start shuffling through the chestnut drawers.

“You know, I really wanted to kiss you earlier when you were giving me my gift,” Tyson thinks aloud in a mumble as he sits on the bed. The admission causes you to halt your movements in your search for shorts for him. “Would you have let me kiss you? Wait, no, don’t answer that.”

Him telling you not to answer pushes a wave of relief through your body, thankful for not having to answer that question. As you open the third drawer you think to yourself, would you have let him kiss you? You didn’t see the harm in it, knowing that most guy and girl best friends shared at least one kiss throughout their friendship. Even Caitlyn and Tucker had asked you on multiple occasions if you had kissed to which you always replied with a harsh no. 

You finally locate a pair of shorts and walk back towards Tyson, helping him stand from the bed to get changed. He’s just coherent enough to strip out of his button-down and white t-shirt; where he starts to struggle is when his hands reach the button of his jeans. He pushes them down his thighs, he gets stuck at his knees he starts to stumble, falling into the bed and you laugh lightly at your best friend’s movement.

He curses out a sigh, before sitting up and finally getting them off and pulling shorts on.

“You good there?”

“Yes, bedtime.” He huffs decidedly, shuffling up the bed and throwing the covers away so he can get under them. 

You stand up, moving back to his dresser and closet to find clothes to wear when you hear a whine from behind you. “Hurry up, I want cuddles.”

You laugh at his newfound neediness, something he always was around you but it came out much more than normal tonight. Whether it was from the level of drunk he was or just the new shift in the comfort the two you felt in your friendship. You reemerge from his bathroom, changed into a pair of his sweats and his Colorado Eagles shirt.

“I like the shirt,” he chirps, smiling from his spot in bed. He continues to watch you as you lay down next to him and text Caitlyn, asking her to call you in the morning just in case your alarm doesn’t wake you. He’s on his side facing you, one hand tucked under his head and the other moving to rest in the air as he makes grabby hands. “I said I wanted a cuddle.”

“Fine,” you huff, even though you’re smiling and scooting your body down and underneath his arm. Your fingers find their way over his rib cage, lightly scratching at the bareness of his back, just underneath his shoulder blade.

“I know I said thank you a million times, but thank you for such an amazing birthday.” He speaks, voice quiet for the first time in hours. 

You flick your eyes up to where his are a few inches higher, “I loved doing it for you, Tys. I’m glad you had an amazing day.”

He stares into your eyes a moment longer before shuffling up the bed a few inches so he can rest his cheek on your forehead. “Can you scratch my elbow?”

You move your fingers from his shoulder blade to his elbow, lightly scratching at the muscles in his triceps. He softly groans at the feeling and you bite back a laugh in reaction. Soon his breath is heavy over your face and you're trying to force the smile off your face so you can focus on going to bed. But it’s hard, being this close in proximity at such a high level of intimacy with your best friend is causing an explosion of feelings in your heart and a warmth occupying your body. You think to yourself how light you’ve felt all night by his side and you think back to his earlier comment about how he wanted to kiss you. Not even an hour ago the attempt would scare you away, but now, you’re not so sure. 

When you turn over to get in a more comfortable position, your eyes land on the new decoration on his bedside table. You squint your eyes to get a better look and you recognize it as the Polaroid you gifted him earlier in the day. The soft smile on your face nearly triples in size at the thought of him putting your picture near his bed and a little part of you wants to steal it back just for you to place it near your bed in your own home. 

At the feeling of Tyson’s heavy breaths at the back of your neck, you close your eyes and let out a content sigh. Sliding your head deeper into the pillow, you play with Tyson’s fingers on the arm that’s laid over you before interlocking them and falling asleep. 

The ringtone of your phone is what pulls you from your sleep the next morning. You try to find your phone with your eyes closed, but with no luck on your side, you squint open your eyes and grab your phone. Seeing as it’s a phone call from Caitlyn and not your alarm, also seeing that it’s already 7:45, you jolt awake. 

“Fuck,” you curse into the phone as you pull it to you ear, sitting up against the pillows. Tyson’s arm tightens around you, his figure Shull heavy with sleep. 

“Dude, I saw your car across the street. Please tell me you’re home and like getting a ride to work.” Caitlyn rushes out. 

“I fucking wish. You literally just woke me up, shit.”

“Y/n!”

“Please tell me you have clothes I can borrow and that we can carpool to work. I’ll owe you big time, please.”

All of the commotion doesn’t wake Tyson to your surprise, but as you sit up further in the bed as he starts to stir next to you. 

“I’ll be over in like ten, you’re literally a life saver.”

“It’s so early, shhhhh,” Tyson mumbles next to you, turning further into your body. You want to scream out of anxiousness and stress but Tyson resting his head onto your chest stops you and you lift your hand to comb through his hair. 

“I have work in like, 30 minutes,” and that statement jolts him awake just as much as the phone call not a minute prior did for you. 

“Oh, shit, sorry,” he rubs his eyes. He rolls over onto his back and you miss the warmth of both his arm and his chest against you instantly. You throw the comforter over you, standing up from the comfort of his bed. You stumble to find your socks and grab your outfit from the night prior, moving to the bathroom with the intention of changing back into it before changing at Caitlyn’s. 

“You can just keep the clothes,” Tyson starts, his eyes open now as he sits further up against his headboard. “I can get them back eventually.”

“I promise you’ll get it back, thank you,” you speak, turning back to the man in bed and going to hug him goodbye. It’s an awkward hug with how you’re standing and how he’s half laying down but he gives you a kiss on the forehead before bidding you goodbye. 

“Text me when you’re alive,” you shout as you finally exit his room. 

Once you’re ready and buckled into Caitlyn’s passenger seat, the two of you speed through the short commute to your offices. 

“Caitlyn, before we get there I need to like, unload on you.” You start shakily, playing with your phone in your lap. 

She glances at you before turning her attention back to the road in front of you. 

“So, remember yesterday when I gave Tyson his gift and I was kinda taking a while? Well, it’s uh, he almost kissed me that’s why.”

“What?!” She exclaims, whipping her head to face you as she comes to a stop at the stoplight. “You cannot be serious!”

“Yeah and then when I took him home, it was just a lot with what was going on.”

“Please tell me you guys did not hook up,” she groans, stepping on the gas as the light turned green. “You guys can’t finally decide to get together and have it happen when you’re drunk off your asses.”

“God, Caitlyn, no we didn’t ‘finally’ hook up or whatever,” you stress in confusion. “I just made him food and it was just, really domestic, and then when I was finding him clothes to change into, he was like ‘I wanted to kiss you earlier’ and asked me if I would’ve let him if he did.”

“And? Did you say yes?”

“First of all, why would you assume that I would’ve said yes? And secondly, no because he told me not to answer.” You brush off. 

“Y/n,” she starts, pulling into an empty parking spot. She puts the car in park and turns to face you fully. “Before I give you my speech, answer this: you would’ve let him kiss you, correct?”

Even though you barely have to think before answering, the question oddly carries a lot of weight and it scares you. “I think so, yes,” you nod your head slowly.  

“Okay, hear me out. You and Tyson are best friends and not just like normal best friends, you two are inseparable. And I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, because it’s not, but I think you need to start noticing the small changes you two have been making recently. You wouldn’t just let a friend kiss you, you’d only want that if you felt something more.”

Her rant makes you sink back into your seat, making you feel cornered in the small confines of the passenger seat of her car. The combination of your hangover, her speech, and it not even being nine in the morning makes your stomach churn. 

“Yeah, I guess so, I don’t know.” You ramble, grabbing your purse from the floor in front of you and opening the car door. “It all happened in one night, it’s a lot to take in.” You defend yourself as you meet her at the end of the car. 

“You guys have been going through some change for a while now, Jack and I have noticed it. Hell, I think some of the guys on the team have started to see it, too.” She insinuates with exaggerated hand movements. “Like I said back when you were with Aiden, you obviously waited to tell Tyson about him for a reason and that was almost six months ago. Think about why you did that, and I think you’ll know what’s going on.”

The two of you ride up the elevator from the parking garage to your office in silence after that. The statement by your friend doing circles inside your brain as you try to figure out the real reason behind all of your previous actions with Tyson. As the elevator doors ding open and the white lights of your office shock you, you opt for a closing statement. 

“I think it’s just hard because I’m clearly attracted to him, and I have been for three years now. Usually, with friendships, I lose that interest pretty early on and like, build a wall if that’s what you want to call it,” you start as the two of you make way down the hall to the break room in need of coffee. 

As you select a K-Cup for both you and Caitlyn a smile grows on your face as you continue. 

“But with Tyson, every time I see him I feel the physical attraction with him, which sounds kind of shallow since that’s all I’m emphasizing right now, but it’s not just that. He’s such a good human and a good friend and knows exactly what to say to me even if I don’t want to hear it and all of that coupled with how handsome he is makes me feel a lot of different things that I still can’t exactly put my finger on.”

You turn your focus to Caitlyn, who has a knowing look playing on her face, her arms crossed over her chest as she leans against the fridge,

“See, I think you’re starting to figure it out.”

You smile, grateful for your friends words of wisdom. Even If you wanted her to just spell it out for you, her talk still helped as the two of you go your separate ways a few minutes later once your coffees are poured and after you ramble on about your night with Tyson a little bit longer.

--

tag list: @reavenedges-lies​ @oilers2997​ @quinnsbxtch​ (let me know if you wanted to be added!)

[heonymilktea]

you make me (a teenager)

wc: 3.3k

warnings/genre: non-idol au, friends to lovers! au, angst, childhood best friends, break up, ex-lovers au, a possible part two

Preview:

    “You're following your dream, why can't I follow mine?'

    “Because my dream is here. Nowhere else.”

    “Well my dream is there, and I'm following my dream. I didn't come here to ask for your permission Jaebum, I came here to tell you that I was leaving.”

    Jaebum only silently watched as you got closer to the front door of his home— a door that you had gone through thousands of times during your friendship and relationship, stopping with your hand on the knob. He knew he was being childish— that he was being selfish, he had been so used to having you by his side every waking moment for what had seemed like his entire life, hearing that you would be leaving— to a whole different country on the other side of the world no less— had basically felt like he would be losing you. 

   “If you leave, don't come back.” Had been the last words you had heard your boyfriend, your best friend of basically your whole life, say to you.

You couldn’t deny the feeling you had gotten as soon as the plane had landed in the airport, the longing of your hometown had grown with each day you hadn’t been back, which meant that by the end of nearly seven years you had missed it like crazy. The warmth of the golden rays hitting your skin had only reminded you even more, missing the fact that it was sunny and warm for most of the year, adding the fact that your childhood home had been so close to the beach that the shore had practically been on the edge of your backyard.  

Maybe you had to give Jisoo— your best friend and vice president— some sort of thank you present once you went back, after all it had been Jisoo who had forced you to take a vacation for the first time in your seven years of working as president of your company, but for now— you were going to enjoy the two weeks you had being here. 

Your parents had been glad to hear that you were going to come back home for once, due to your workaholic tendencies it was usually them who were the ones to do the flying out to reunite as a family. As you settled back into your childhood room, your mom had filled you in on everything that had happened in the neighborhood— talking about how Mina and Jinwoo down the street had finally married and she was about four months away from from giving birth to their first baby, and how Mr. Tanaka and his family had moved away since he had gotten a promotion to a different office that would pay him much better. There had been someone you wanted to ask her about, but you had refrained yourself from even mentioning him. 

She had all but pushed you out of the door once you were done, telling you to explore the town and see the changes that had been made in the time that you had been gone, though you hadn't exactly fought against it, you had been itching to become reacquainted with everything and possibly go to the beach ever since you had first step foot in the driveway. 

So you did. 

After a quick shower and change to more warm weather appropriate clothes. Even if spring had barely started here, it was much warmer than it had been back at— home. You didn’t really know whether you had called it your home yet, even if you had lived there for three years now, it had always felt like something had been missing, but no matter how much you had racked your brain for what that something could be, you couldn’t really place it. You know who, your heart had reminded you— maybe you had known but didn’t want to admit it just yet. 

Pushing the thought away, you instead focused on the feeling of the sun against your skin, walking down the streets you remembered so easily and reminiscing about all the memories you made before you left, before things had changed. You had passed by your favorite bookstore, elated that it had still been here despite the years that had passed, the small shopping center that held your favorite arcade had expanded, new shops lined up and down the lot, you could see all the high school students that were probably on their spring break walking around with their friends— it all reminded you of when you were in their places, making you miss how things used to be before everything had changed. 

But once again you had ignored the notion, changing your plans of re-exploring to finding what had once been your favorite coffee shop and spending the rest of the day at home. After you weaved through a couple of blocks having relied on your memory, you had finally made to the place you had been looking for— the quaint coffee shop had been tucked in a corner away from the overpopulated center of downtown, but it still had managed to gain its many loyal customers that dotted the patio of it, basking in the warmth of the spring day as they enjoyed their iced drinks. 

A few minutes later, you had been just like one of them— minus the staying in the patio. The cool condensation of the cup felt refreshing against the warmth of your hand, and you had finally gotten the caffeine fix you had been needing all day. Though, your entire walk back home your mind had been occupied with thoughts of him— whether he had continued with his music, if his hair was still dyed light brown and styled up in a fohawk like it had been in high school when you last saw him, or if he still had those bulky headphones that had almost taken permanent residence around his neck.

Thoughts and memories had clouded your mind well after dinner, but you had told your mother it had been the jetlag finally catching up to you that caused the blank stare in your eyes. She shook her head, and ushered you to your room, that she would clean the plates with your father’s help, he only smiled at her, already taking the plates to the kitchen before telling you to wash up and sleep early. 

You tried to, you really did— taking a nice bath with a bath bomb your mother had given you, placing a face mask after your extensive skincare routine, wearing your favorite pajamas that you had brung but you found yourself tossing and turning on the bed restlessly. You sat up in your bed, defeated, maybe catching up on some dramas that you had been meaning to watch could distract you (even though you secretly knew you would probably end up rewatching Goblin because it was your favorite), but before you could reach down to take your laptop out of your bag, a glimpse of your old polaroid camera had caught your eye the album where you saved all the pictures you took next to it. Climbing out of your bed, your hand glided over the leather front before bringing it with you back to bed. 

Opening it, the first picture you had seen was you and Jaebum smiling up at the camera, roughly around the age of five, you had been in pigtails and a pink dress your mom picked out while he had been in a graphic t-shirt and shorts; it had been the day you met him, he had been the son of the neighbors that had just moved in next door. Like the extroverted child you were, you had immediately invited Jaebum to play in your backyard with you, his parents wanting him to settle in, pushed Jaebum to go and that had been the start of your friendship. 

You stayed their in your bed, flipping through each page of the thick album binder, reliving all the memories that each and every picture brought— some had been of you, or you and your parents, a few of you and cousins, and some of your friends, but the ones of you and Jaebum had quickly outnumbered the others combined,  

The last picture had only managed to make your smile falter, it had been taken right after you both had taken the CSAT— the exam that would determine basically your entire future depending on how well you did— you were both in your school uniforms, both worn out from the excruciatingly long and unforgiving exam, but the smiles of relief adorned both your faces, your arms had been wrapped around his middle as his wrapped around your shoulder. You remember that Jaebum had taken you out to ice cream not long after, also remembering that it had been taken about six months after he had officially asked you out and asked to be his girlfriend. Both of your parents had been insufferable when they found out, hounding at both of you how they had called it ever since you had become friends, that it had been only a matter of not if but when. 

It only made you realize how quickly things can change, but at least you had the pictures to hold onto and relive the memories. You fell asleep with the album in your arms, even if you had wanted to move on and forget him, he was still in your heart seven years later. Instead of having a dream that night, it seemed like your mind had still been wrapped around him instead, making you relive through the last memory you had of him instead. 

You had been wringing your hands for the past ten minutes, nervous about seeing Jaebum. Well not really nervous about seeing him, but having to tell him the news that you’ve had all morning and seeing his reaction to it. In five minutes, you would have to go over to his house (not like it was literally just next door or anything) and have your weekly movie night— a tradition that you had started long before you had become each other’s significant other, the only addition was that now you had been able to cuddle up to his side and sneak kisses between movies. 

But instead of drawing it out further and only building up your uneasiness, you would tell him as soon as you went over. He had greeted you when he heard the doorbell ring, sneaking a quick peck before letting you come inside. 

“Wait- before we sit down, I have something to tell you.”

He looked at you expectantly, letting you know that he was listening.

“Remember MILLIONS and their program I was talking to you about?”

As your boyfriend, he was probably the one that knew about the company the most out of all your friends, you had rambled about dreaming of working for them ever since the beginning of your first year of high school. 

“I got accepted...”

“That’s good, but why do you look like your cat just died?”

“They offered me the scholarship and internship. The internship to work at their headquarters.”

“But their headquarters are in New York..” He had stated, though you could see the gears in his head turning as he was beginning to connect the dots.

You stayed silent, opting to look away from him as the guilt settled in even more. Though it wasn’t like you could do much about it at that point, you had been offered a scholarship and an internship to potentially become a graphic designer— at MILLIONS nonetheless which had been your absolute dream to work for, could you really give up such an offer?

“I thought you were going to stay here with me, remember the promise we made.”

“We made that promise at the beginning of middle school 'Beom, we were practically children. We weren't thinking of the future, much less of our careers. You're following your dream, why can't I follow mine?'

“Because my dream is here. Nowhere else.”

“Well my dream is there, and I'm following my dream. I didn't come here to ask for your permission Jaebum, I came here to tell you that I was leaving.”

Jaebum only silently watched as you got closer to the front door of his home— a door that you had gone through thousands of times during your friendship and relationship, stopping with your hand on the knob. He knew he was being childish— that he was being selfish, he had been so used to having you by his side every waking moment for what had seemed like his entire life, hearing that you would be leaving— to a whole different country on the other side of the world no less— had basically felt like he would be losing you. 

“If you leave, don't come back.” Had been the last words you had heard your boyfriend, your best friend of basically your whole life, say to you.

You woke up to the sound of your phone relentlessly vibrating on top of your night stand, your hand reaching aimlessly til it felt the glass of the screen, your fingers wrapping around it before pulling it up to your ear, jerking away when it vibrated once again— it had only been an alarm to prevent you from sleeping the entire morning away. Now fully awake, you wished you could've completely shaken off the dream/memory— it had been seven years since it happened, it had been about five since you thought about him at all, why now?

Before you could dwindle on it further, you felt your stomach rumble, hungry to eat the first meal of the day— you were never one to skip out on breakfast since being the workaholic perfectionist you were meant that your hours at the office often meant that you’d skip a meal to get work done. Heading to the kitchen, you weren’t surprised to find your mom already there— humming to herself as she chopped some vegetables for the side dishes of breakfast, you could hear your dad humming outside the window, probably sitting on the porch reading the morning newspaper. 

It had been a normal breakfast, your dad relaying the information of the newspaper he had read earlier while your mother and you sat listening and inputting your opinions every once in a while, and just like the day before she had shooed you away after you all had finished, telling you to actually visit the beach for once, since you hadn’t given yourself the opportunity to yesterday. 

After having learnt that your favorite coffee shop was still open, you made your way to it first, your heart craving to have an iced matcha latte (plus you had to make the most of the two weeks you had here, you didn’t know exactly when would be the next time Jisoo would push you to take a mandatory vacation). It seemed like you were probably going to visit it every time you could, which probably meant a couple times a day if you had allowed yourself. 

You were waiting inside the shop this time, opting to stay in the air conditioned room than outside on the patio in the warmth— you were going to stay in the sun for most of the day already, you really didn’t have to start now, at least at the beach you had the sea spray to help keep you cool. Your eyes wandered around the different people as you waited, startled to cross eyes with the person you had least expected to see— Im Jaebum. 

You hadn’t really thought you would’ve run the possibility of running into him, even though you knew that he was still living here— but it was a big neighborhood in an even bigger city, the chances had been so slim. But here you were, your feet glued to the ground as you saw him approach you. You never really imagined what you would say to him if you ever saw him after the incident— he had made it very clear to you that he no longer wanted anything to do with you, going as far as blocking your number and all your accounts of any social media that you shared. You had stopped trying to reach him, if he really wanted nothing to do with you then you wouldn’t waste your time— uni classes and the internship had already consumed most of it. And after gaining a new friend group, you forgot about him almost completely by the end of your first year.  

Now, after seven years, he was the one coming to you. It looks like all the questions you had had the night before were answered though— his hair was back to its natural onyx color and much longer than before, the ends just barely grazing his chin, the earphones were absent from their purchase on his neck, replaced with wireless ones that were in their case on his keys. You knew he had always been handsome, but you hadn’t really expected him to get this handsome, if you had known him, you would’ve probably had a crush on him. But you couldn’t let him come to you like nothing had happened, he had broken your heart twice over— as your ex-boyfriend and as your ex-best friend. 

“I didn’t know you came back.” Jaebum had approached you. 

When he saw you, he felt himself revert back to the high schooler he used to be, remembering all the time you both had spent together before he had gone and ruined it all. He had been selfish, he had been extremely stupid, but most of all he had been scared. Scared of losing you to people he didn’t know, that maybe you would find someone to replace him and he would be left behind without you. 

He didn’t know how his messed up teen logic had come to the conclusion of pushing you away would stop you from leaving, but by the time he had realized that he had made the biggest mistake in his life, you had already gone, you had given up on reaching out to him basically disappearing from existence apart from the occasional update he got from his mother who had gotten it from your mom. 

You were beautiful, much more beautiful than before— sure you had been pretty in high school, he was the lucky one to date you then, but you were shy (middle school does that to you) and cared a lot more about your studies than your looks. There had been an air around you now, you held yourself differently than the last time he had seen you— you were more sure of yourself and made your presence known whenever you came into the room. 

“Why would you? You had been the one to tell me not to,” you scoffed, almost turning your nose up at him— was that really the best he could come up with?

Your words stung him, but they had been right, and as much as he wanted to go back to the past and slap some sense into his high school self, he couldn’t.

“Can we talk? Please?” His fingers reaching out to hold your arm.

“You’ve missed your chances of talking, Jaebum. You have no right to anymore,” you pulled your arm out of his reach as if his touch had burned your skin.

“I know, but I want to apologize—” 

“It’s too late to. I don’t care about hearing an apology from you,” You had taken your drink and tried to leave, but he had followed right behind you. 

“Please Y/n—”

“Listen Jaebum. You were the one that told me to not come back if I left. You’re the one that ignored all my calls and texts for nearly two months, you avoided me completely on social media and whenever I tried to talk to you after talking to your parents. I was the one crying and begging for forgiveness to your voicemail. All you had to do was answer, all you had to do was listen. Listen to me say that even despite going to MILLIONS was my dream, you were also my dream. 

But you didn’t, so I stopped trying. You think it didn’t hurt me? To lose you? Yes you were my boyfriend, but you had also been my best friend, the one person that I had relied on through everything. I had no one there, no one to talk to, but you know what? I pushed myself to move on,  I did move on. Now so should you.” You took a step back and smoothed your hair out, having finally released all your pent up feelings. “You made the decision, I only acted accordingly. So, please don’t look for me.”

And so you left.

The only thing Jaebum could do was watch as your figure disappeared down the street and around the corner, knowing that he had lost you for good. 

[justlookfrightened]

A Christmas miracle

Meet-cute where Jack fills in for a mall Santa and Bitty is an elf. TW for brief discussion of a child who has died and her grieving brother.

“Ho. Ho. Ho.”

Bitty startled and looked up at the deadpan delivery.

“Lardo,” he whispered, tugging his red tunic down a little lower over his red tights, “who’s that? Where’s Mr. Peabody?”

“That?” Lardo said, her glance sweeping over the man in the Santa suit. “That is Jack Zimmermann. He plays … hockey? I think hockey. Anyway, his team wanted to get footage of him playing Santa for some kind of a pr video, so Peabody has the day off.”

She smoothed the front of her green tunic while Bitty kept inserting candy canes in the photo folders that would be given to the kids who visited Santa that day.

“But he knows nothing about being Santa,” Bitty protested. “Mr. Peabody’s been doing this for 30 years. How do they know this guy won’t … I dunno, promise a kid a puppy or something?”

“I’m pretty sure they went over that with him,” Lardo said. “We are but elves, keeping order in the line and providing photos and candy.”

“But it’s not right,” Bitty said.

It wasn’t. Mr. Peabody, who’d been the mall Santa since Bitty started working there when he got to Samwell three years earlier, had a real white beard and bushy eyebrows and a rotund belly. When he said “Ho, ho, ho,” he sounded like he was really laughing. To the kids who came to see him, he was Santa Claus, ready to listen to the things they wanted and needed in their lives, whether it was a Barbie doll or a new dad.

Sometimes the things the kids asked for were funny, sometimes they were heartbreaking, but Mr. Peabody always listened with a serious, engaged expression, offered encouraging words and sent them on their way without giving them false hope that every problem would be solved come Christmas morning.’

To have his seat filled by some … hockey player just wasn’t right.

“We’ve got a few minutes before he has to be out there,” Lardo said. “Why don’t you give him some advice?”

Bitty never knew afterwards if she really thought Jack Zimmermann would be receptive to the wisdom of a diminutive elf, or if she was just hoping for some comedy to start her day.

He approached the man in the Santa suit. And yes, it clearly had a lot of padding in the belly. Not so much in the rear, which Bitty got an eyeful of as Jack Zimmermann bent down to tuck the pants into his fur-lined boots.

“Santa!” Bitty said, hoping his face didn’t betray where he had just been looking.

No reaction.

“Santa!” he tried again, then reached up to tap Jack Zimmermann on the shoulder. Lordy, was he tall. No wonder the pants wouldn’t stay tucked into the books. Mr. Peabody was taller than Bitty, but Jack ZImmermann was at least four inches taller than Mr. Peabody.

“Euh, did you need something?” Jack Zimmermann said, finally. “I’m Jack, by the way.”

“No, you’re not,” Bitty said. “As long as you’re wearing that suit in this mall, you’re Santa Claus, and you have to remember to answer to the name.”

Jack had the decency to look a little abashed at that.

“Speaking of names, what’s yours?” he said. “It looks like you work in Santa’s village.”

“I’m Bitty,” he said.

“Wait -- is that like your elf-name?” Jack said. “The name you use in front of the kids?”

“It’s my name,” Bitty said. “I came over to see what they told you about this. It might be a lark for you, but for a lot of the kids that come, it’s important. You have to take it seriously.”

“The kids come, I ho-ho-ho, they tell me what they want, and they go away,” Jack said. “How hard can it be?”

“Bless your heart,” Bitty said. “Have you even thought about what you might say to them? If one of them asks for a pony? Or even a pet? If someone asks for a little brother or sister, or a new dad? What if someone pulls on your beard to see if it’s real?”

“It’s stuck on pretty well,” Jack said. “They had a special make-up person do it. Itchy, though.”

“I guess it’ll do,” Bitty said.

“They did tell me not to promise anything,” Jack said.

“Did they tell you that once the kids are big enough to sit on their own, they sit next to you instead of on your lap?” Bitty demanded. “Do you know the names of all your reindeer? How to handle the criers? The wetters?”

Because there were always criers. They made some of Lardo’s favorite pictures. And most days, at least a couple of kids wet their pants. The seat was easy-to-clean vinyl, but Jack had to alert Bitty so he could wipe it down before the next guest.

Jack was now standing up straight, looking down at Bitty like he couldn’t believe he was being lectured by an elf.

“It’s just spreading a little Christmas cheer,” he said. “I think I can handle it.”

They were opening in a moment, and Bitty walked away, grumbling about famous last words.

The line was already twenty families long when Santa took his seat in the sleigh. Someone from the Falconers was passing out stickers while she got parents to sign media releases, and most of them seemed excited at the idea of their kids being in the video.

Unfortunately for Bitty, the line between ‘excited’ and ‘impatient’ was exceedingly narrow, and Bitty found himself challenged with keeping the line moving in an orderly fashion.

It didn’t help that Jack focused his blue (arctic blue?) eyes on each child while the spoke. Then he would answer them -- after the first dozen, Bitty took a moment to remind him to repeat what the kids asked for loudly enough for the parents to hear -- going on about how if they were trying to behave, that was enough to get on the nice list.

Jack handled the criers by more or less ignoring their tears, just sitting next to them and smiling for the photos, which was fine. More than fine, really, Bitty thought as he watched him. Those icy blue eyes really did manage to twinkle, like he found the humor in the situation. What did he look like under that beard? Bitty could see he had sharp cheekbones and pale skin, but not much more beyond that.

When one of them demanded to know if he was the real Santa, Jack let out a “Ho, ho, ho” that was slightly more jolly than the first one Bitty heard, and asked, “What do you think?”

That was fine. If the kids were asking the question, that meant they were entertaining the idea that Jack wasn’t the real Santa, anyway.

Jack wrinkled his nose a bit the first time a little boy got up with wet trousers and left a damp spot on the seat. Bitty swooped in to clean it up, and took the time to tell Jack, “You’re doing great. How’re you holding up?”

“Tired, but good,” Jack said. “How many more?”

“You’re on ‘til 12:30, so maybe a couple dozen?” Bitty said. “Don’t worry. You got this.”

Jack nodded with something like grim determination and prepared to welcome the next child.

It was close to the end of Jack’s shift when a boy about five years old wearing a reindeer sweater approached. He’d been quiet and patient in line, standing next to his equally quiet mother, and Bitty had not given them a thought beyond appreciating the good manners this family obviously instilled in their children.

But after the boy climbed onto the seat next to Jack and beckoned him down so that he could whisper in Jack’s ear, Jack’s face fell.

Jack listened intently, nodded and smiled, and said something back so quietly that Bitty couldn’t hear. Whatever it was satisfied the child, because he hopped down and scampered back to his mother, who took his hand and the candy cane in the folder with a Polaroid of the boy and Jack together.

Jack, on the other hand, looked like he was about to fall apart.

Bitty hopped up, pretending to straighten the holly, and said, “How about it, Santa? Time for your break?”

More quietly, he said, “I’m pretty sure the next Santa is here if you want to cut out early.”

Jack shook his head and said, “It’s fine. How much longer?”

“Another twenty minutes or so.”

Bitty turned back to the line and said, “All right, young lady, step right up! Santa is going to stay a few more minutes before his break!”

Jack was already smiling, and soon he was saying, “You’d like an easel and paints for Christmas?” in a voice loud enough for her dad to hear.

At 12:30, they put the “Be back soon” sign up on the North Pole set, and Bitty and Lardo escorted Jack to the locker room for him to get changed and for Bitty and Lardo to have their lunch.

The pr person from the Falconers was there with a bottle of rubbing alcohol to help Jack with the beard and the wig. 

“When you’re done, come out and I’ll give you some cookies, okay?” Bitty said. “You did really well out there.”

“I’m not sure about the cookies -- not on my diet plan -- but thanks,” Jack said. 

Jack disappeared into the bathroom while Lardo pulled out a container of food to share. Bitty made two mugs of tea and set a platter of cookies on the table.

“He did well, didn’t he?” Lardo said. “You know, Shitty knows him? He said Jack’d do okay.”

“Better than I thought,” Bitty admitted. 

He watched Lardo’s travel from his face to a point a couple of feet above his head.

“He’s behind me, isn’t he?” Bitty said.

“Yup,” Lardo said.

Bitty craned his neck to look up at possibly the most beautiful man he’d ever seen, now dressed in workout pants and a T-shirt that showed off his biceps.

The Santa suit had definitely not done Jack justice.

“Sorry,” he squeaked.

“No,” Jack said. “You were right. I wasn’t taking it seriously at first. But the kids … they just think it’s so important. You have to listen carefully.”

“Cookie?” Bitty said, holding up a gingerbread bear. “One won’t hurt.”

“Maybe some tea?” Jack asked.

“I’ll get it,” Lardo said. 

Jack took the seat next to Bitty.

“So what did that little boy ask for? If you don’t mind me asking,” Bitty said.

Jack didn’t even pretend not to know which child Bitty meant.

“He asked if I could bring something to his little sister in heaven,” Jack said. “He said he knew Santa had Christmas magic, but he wasn’t sure it worked in heaven.”

“Oh my gosh,” Bitty said. “What did you say?”

Jack shrugged. “It seemed like one time a promise would be okay. I told him Santa magic can reach everyone we love.”

Lardo placed the mug in front of Jack and said, “Shut up. You’re going to make me cry.”

Jack put down the gingerbread bear he’d been eating despite himself and took the tea.

“Anyway, I can see why it’s important to you,” he said. 

“It is,” Bitty said. “I mean, I know we look silly in these costumes and all, but it makes a difference for people, you know?”

“I get it now,” Jack said. “I’d like to make it up to you, if I can. Do you maybe want to get coffee? Once you get changed, of course.”

Bitty knew he was as red as his tunic, but he shook his head anyway.

“I’m on for the next Santa shift as well.”

“When are you free? I don’t have a game tonight.”

Lardo looked between the two of them.

“Five,” she said. “He gets off at 4:45. Give him fifteen minutes to change, and you can pick him up here.”

“Lardo!” Bitty sputtered at her. “He doesn’t have to take me for coffee. He doesn’t owe me anything.”

“You want to go,” Lardo said. “Look at your face. And he wants to take you. So go. Call it a Christmas miracle.”

[oingo233]

By The Lake*Part Four

Summary:  A family friend offers you a place to stay to get away from an abusive past.  Her home is a place that you are familiar with, an old town with a large lake you spent many days in. You went there years ago for one full summer, where you became close friends with a very young Daryl Dixon.  You two were inseparable until you had to leave.  But now you’re back, escaping from a past much like his.  You will need to weave your way through the town's problematic people, your own problems, and above all the confusing Dixon.  Will you two find your way back to each other again?  Or will he push you further away?  And above all, will your past cease to haunt you?

Part one * Part Two * Part Three * Part Five

Pairing: Young Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of abuse and violence(potential triggers), cussing, more mature themes(not smut or anything tho), slow burn romance

Authors Note: Daryl Dixon is a character from the amazing show The Walking Dead, but this story is modern AU so not with all the walkers and everything.  I don’t own and I didn’t create his character.  Also this story is in no means meant to romanticize abuse, that stuff isn’t romantic. It is such a terrible, terrible thing, but it is sadly a very common thing as well.  Throughout this series I only hope that I can spread awareness about the matter, and let people know that they aren’t alone, things will get better, and that no one is deserving of any kind of abuse. Ever. Anyways, I’m done with my rant, I hope y’all like it, and if not please send in some constructive criticisms I’m always looking to improve.

Word Count: 1.9k

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That night at dinner, Rosie and Monty wouldn’t stop talking about the fun day we had at the lake.  I showed Mark and Cherry the million of photos I took.  They were all Polaroids and Cherry put one on the fridge, it was one with Rosie in Monty's lap on the dinosaur floatie, and Rosie was laughing while Monty waved.  I kept a couple for myself, like the selfie I took with the two of them, Rosie pulled a sassy face and Monty smiled, showing his chipped front tooth.  That one made us all laugh.  

I can’t help but look around at all their faces and feel my heart swell, they were my family away from home, their kindness and joy becoming my own.  I have to admit, I did have my worries about coming here.  I cried the night before, thinking of how I’ll miss my family so much, and my friends...but it was best to distance myself from home.  Too many bad memories, and too many risks.  Cherry catches me staring and smiles, a look in her eyes asking if I was okay.

I laugh to myself and nod to her, the private moment only deepening my feelings.  “Thank you guys, so much.”  I blurt out, making the table suddenly quite.  The kids looked confused but Mark and Cherry beamed.

“Of course, you’re family.  Well, to us anyway.”  Cherry's says, Mark takes her hand and agrees, sending me a warm look.  

“Well, I was thinking, to thank you guys, I can run in to town and pick up anything you guys need.  Mark, you mentioned earlier today about all the food y’all needed to get?”  Mark shifted in his seat, thinking.

“Yeah, I can make a list.”  He says, relaxing into his chair.  Cherry sends him a look and he sits up a bit more.  “But don’t feel like you have to.  Only go if you want to, of course.”  Cherry nods discreetly and I roll my eyes.

“Yes, I want to help.  And although I love it here, I wouldn’t mind going into town for a while.” 

“Then it’s settled, you can use my car tomorrow.  It’s the weekend so I won’t need it.” Cherry says.  And it was settled.  I went to bed, unpacking a few things first, and when I woke up I ate breakfast with everyone.  Mark made me a list, drawing a smiley face at the bottom, and Cherry gave me her keys with a list of other things they need, and some money.

It has been hours since I left the house, and hours of me walking around town. A few things have changed, for instance, the grocery store.  It used to be on the first street you see when you pull into town, but now it was nowhere to be found.  I wander around, no doubt looking more lost than a shipwrecked sailor, when three boys around my own age, approached me.  

Two of the boys looked nearly the exact same with their matching blonde hair and brown eyes. Only difference is that one had his ears pierced, it was clear to see they were twins.  They trailed a few steps behind a boy with shaggy brown hair, and green eyes.  He looked boyish, and clean, maybe even a little cute, I think to myself.  He looks me up and down, then glances back at the two boys, I didn’t miss the way they smirked, or how uncomfortable I was suddenly feeling.

“Excuse me...”  I say, emotionless but strong, as I try to get around them.

“Not so fast sweetheart, we just want to help ya.”  He says smoothly.  The twins both echo “yeahs” and “sweetheart”.  The nickname making me sick, Carter used to call me the same thing.  Suddenly, all that strength I thought I had, faded away from me.  I was just the same girl I used to be, stuck in a room with Carter, my head throbbing as he had just slapped me.  It felt like I was back there, and my breathing increased tenfold.

“Ya alright?”  The green eyed boy asked, reaching for me.  I pull back and whisper for him to get away, but he didn’t hear it, I was too quite.

“Hey, hey it’s okay.  Lets just sit down, yeah?”  The boy asked me, and his two friends shared a nervous look.  I nod and tuck my hands in towards my chest as I sit down and try to steady my breathing.  I felt my cheek, it didn’t hurt, my head didn’t throb.  I look at the boys, they didn’t look like Carter.  I wasn’t there anymore, I was safe.  Then why didn’t I feel like it?

“I’m Devin, this is Jack and Joe.”  He says, Jake had the earing and Joe was leaning behind me, rubbing my back, which at the time I didn’t find comforting at all.   I smile at him falsely, and stand up.  Devin and Joe stand up, while Jake stares at me as if I was crazy, but those looks didn’t faze me anymore.

“Thanks.”  I say, they all nod stiffly. Devin steps closer to me and peers at the list in my hand.

“Lost?”  

“Yeah...”  I chuckle.  “Know where  Ross’s super market is by any chance?” Devin gives me a smile that felt too big, and steps forwards again.

“Sure I do sweetheart...” I cut him off. 

“Could you not call me that please?”  He arches an eyebrow, laughing with his friends at me.  

He goes to speak and while he does he steps even closer to me, I take a step back to give us distance.  He keeps getting closer and closer, that bad feeling in my stomach coming back.

“Why, sweetheart...” He mocks, his friends laugh obnoxiously again. He takes a quick step towards me and grabs my wrist with one hand, he gently caresses my upper arm with the other and whispers in my ear. “You tryna tell me you have a rotten heart?  Are you a bad girl?” His voice low and teasing. My throat constricts right at the same time I’m supposed to tell him to fuck off, and my body freezes right when I thought I was going to kick him in the balls. I’m frozen, everything my mind wants to do to this prick isn’t communicating to my body.  Why am I back at being this girl!  I think desperately.  His friends laughter rings in the silence of the next few seconds.  

Devin doesn’t stop touching my arm.  Devin needs to stop, I don’t like it, I repeat this thought until it sinks in and I feel so repulsed that my body finally functions again.  

“Get the fuck off of me, you creep!”  I yell, trying to push him off.  His one hand tightened around my wrist, and the other motioned to his friends, two fingers wiggling back and forth, like beckoning hounds to feed.  I scratch at his hand and scream. But I was at the end of the sidewalk, that led out to farm land and no body was around.  

I look back at the twins desperately, but they weren’t approaching me, they were backing away.  Their faces ashen.   I don’t have time to look behind me before a shadow is cast over my shoulder and in seconds my wrist feels lighter. I pull it into my chest and caress the bruising skin, watching wide eyed as Devin is sprawled on the ground holding his bleeding nose.  I turn around to see who did it.

Daryl is shaking out his hand, face twisted in rage.  He advances on Devin.

“The fuck you doing boy!”  Daryl yells, grabbing Devins bloody collar and punching him again. He is on top of him now, fists red and bloody. “You touching girls now?  You hurtin ‘em!”  Daryl booms, Devin whimpers and shakes his head no.  Daryl punches him twice, each time harder than before.  “Don’t fucking lie to me.”  He seethes.  

“Daryl...” I say lowly, glancing around at all the towns people that now conveniently had come out to watch.  I feel terrible, if only I did something, or followed my gut, then none of this would have happened. No, I tell myself, I can’t punish myself for others mistakes. I didn’t feel bad for the pricks, but for Daryl.  Now everyone was going to curse the Dixon name even more.  I watch them whispering, and now, so did Daryl.  With a deep breath, and a hostile look to Devin, he climbs off of him.  

He turns towards the twins, who were trying to look calmer than they felt no doubt.  “What!”  Daryl yells at them, stepping forwards.  “You think ya innocent.  Nah you pricks ain’t nothing.  Get outta here!”  He roars, the twins help lift up Devin, and run off.  Daryl yells after them.  “Don’t get near her again, ya hear!”  

Daryl ignores the crowd and finds his way back to me, his face visibly kinder.  “You a’right, they hurt ya?”  He ask me, looking at me threw his lashes, his face pointed towards my arm as he lightly reaches for it.  He lightly holds the tips of my fingers, barely touching me, as he moves my arm around to get a better look.  We’re quite as he inspects the damage, it isn’t too bad.  The skin is red and puffy, I know it will bruise.  Daryl, very lightly, traces a finger over it.  His face hard again.

“It’ll bruise.”  He says.

“I know.  But they could have done worse...thank you Daryl.”  He drops my hand and stares at me, a conflicting look across his face. That’s when I see it.  On his right eye, the size of my palm, is a painful looking black eye.  “Oh Daryl.” I sigh, reaching up to touch it, as if that would make it better.  Daryl's features turn cold again, and he shoves my hand away.

“Get off me girl.” He grumbles, before turning his back and walking through the whispering crowd alone.  Before he gets too far I call out to him.

“Daryl wait!”  He stops walking, and looks back at me from over his tense shoulder. I run to catch up with him and say. “You need anything, anything at all, you come around.  I’m staying at the cabin at Cherry's.  Ya know, ‘big green’“ I quote the nick name Daryl and I gave the cabin years ago.  He just nods stiffly and walks off, his head somehow standing tall and tucked away shyly at the same time.  

My heart was beating fast, and I held my hand against it.  Everything could have been so much worse if Daryl hadn’t stepped in.  A warm gratefulness, and odd affection filled me for the ass-kickin, stubborn boy.  

Mrs.Henderson came rushing towards me, she looks me over and places a soft, wrinkled hand on my shoulder.  “Oh dear, that Dixon boy didn’t hurt you did he?”  She kept talking before I had the chance.  “Cause I have the police on speed dial, they’re familiar with the likes of his kind.  Ya know those Dixon’s ain’t any good.  Here, let me see that wrist.”  She grabs my hand roughly, and doesn’t bother being soft as she touches my wrist.  I can’t help but think how Daryl was the supposed bad boy, yet he treated me gentler than this old lady.  

I pull my hand away, frowning at her.  “Thank you ma’am, but Daryl was actually the one to help me.  It was those three boys being rude, Daryl helped me.”  I said the last part slower so she could let it sink in.  She bit her lip, looking doubtful. I just hoped people in this town could see how Daryl was better then he let on, softer than he seemed.  But from the look on Mrs. Hendersons face, I knew that was far from a possibility.  I went about the rest of my shopping in a bad mood.

[molanran]

april story - kang taehyun

summary: he was the one that got away.

word count: 3.3k

now playing: renee’s song - bazzi & transatlanticism - death cab for cutie & the one that got away - katy perry

taehyun couldn't wipe away the fake smile on his face as he carried box after box into his new home. chaewon walked by, chatting busily to someone on her phone, taehyun didn't really care. he could only watch her silently as she retreated into their shared bedroom, finally expelling the breath that he'd been holding.

he was doing the right thing, this is what he was meant to do. his parents had set him up with chaewon, insisting that he'd need someone befitting of his status as an heir to a company. they constantly reassured him that it's his job to listen to them, that he should be jumping up and down in excitement because he's making them proud. chaewon didn't seem to mind the engagement and tried her best to be friends with the young heir, but their relationship had never progressed anywhere past acquaintances.

taehyun and chaewon had been engaged for five years now, becoming engaged when taehyun had turned twenty-three. their wedding was only a couple of weeks away.

taehyun slowly pulled out book after book, fitting them in perfectly on the bookshelf. he continued the dull task until he had come across an old photo book, scribbles from his high school self visible on the cover. he tried to shake away the memories associated with the book, lining it up with the rest of the books only for it to fall to the ground, opening to the front page.

he couldn't help but stare fondly at the two boys present in the photo. there was a black-haired boy with his arm around a slightly taller blonde boy. the black-haired boy had a relaxed smile on his face, holding up a peace sign while the blonde had his eyes locked on the other male. their faces had taken up the majority of the shot, zooming in on the two's closeness.

taehyun fell to his knees, running his fingers softly over the photo. a warm feeling enveloped his being as he found himself lost in his memories.

--

taehyun couldn't help but notice the new kid stumbling around the hallway, his camera flopping around from his neck haphazardly. even when the new kid had finally reached his locker, it seemed luck wasn't on his side, because he was promptly shoved aside by a larger senior who had ignored the smaller male. taehyun watched anxiously as the new kid didn't move from the floor, instead,  sighing as his shoulders drooped, checking the state of his camera. he couldn't help but feel sorry for the other, ignoring his friend's idle chatter as he strode over.

"are you okay?" taehyun offered his hand to the fallen kid, sending the other male a soft smile. the new kid looked surprised but took his hand anyway, pulling himself up to a standing position. he looked to see that the large kid was already gone, leaving himself and the blonde kid beside his locker.

"i'm fine, thanks." the new kid bowed his head slightly in thanks. taehyun couldn't help but notice the slight height difference, barely standing taller by an inch.

"i'm taehyun kang, if you need some friends, you can come and sit with me and my friends if you want?" taehyun extended his hand before he could stop himself.

"i'm m/n bae," as if he wasn't cute enough, taehyun quickly found out m/n's adorable eye smile. "and i'd like that, thank you."

"no problem, it's always scary starting at a new school." taehyun found himself talking nervously, feeling his palms become slightly sweaty.

"is it too soon to ask for a picture?" m/n held up his camera shyly. "my parents would never believe that i made friends on the first day..." m/n quickly kept talking, ranting just as nervously as taehyun.

"it's completely fine." taehyun cut off the smaller male before he ran out of breath. he couldn't help but smile at the other's dazed expression and blushing exterior. he quickly moved their faces together, ignoring the small pitter-patter of his heart as a flash went off.

taehyun switched his gaze to m/n, who held up a peace sign, paying no attention to the blonde's gaze on him.

--

chaewon walked by behind taehyun, her footsteps unable to be unheard. she peeked over his shoulder to see him looking at his ex-boyfriend, feelings of sympathy welling up within her. she carried on walking outside, taking another phone call.

taehyun ignored his wife-to-be's presence, finding solace in the memories and flipping to the next page. a shot of himself and m/n caught in a lip lock, surrounded by a flurry of rose petals.

--

"but what if they say no?" m/n complained, feeling tempted to run his fingers through the hair that sooyoung had just finished styling meticulously. the blonde quickly swiped the dark-haired male's hand away, running his own hand through m/n's hair.

"m/n, i don't know if you noticed but you look absolutely amazing." taehyun smiled, fixing m/n's tie. taehyun had to admit, the slightly other male had cleaned up very nicely, but he couldn't help the punch of jealously he felt in his chest. "whoever decides to reject your offer tonight is an absolute idiot." taehyun finally finished the last loop, smiling in satisfaction.

"are you sure i look okay? sooyoung, what do you think?" sooyoung looked up from her position on his bed, repositioning her gaze from m/n's camera to m/n's lithe figure. she was constantly amazed by the other's beauty, even feeling jealous herself because m/n was infinitely cuter than she was.

"you look absolutely smashing, m/n." sooyoung whooped in delight, taking a picture with the camera.

"and now the last thing you need for a successful confession," taehyun pulled out a bouquet of roses from sooyoung's bag, placing them delicately in m/n's hands. they cost quite a hefty amount if taehyun was being completely honest. "prom's in an hour so you better ask out whoever it is right now." taehyun took m/n's face into his hands. "you can do this, okay?"

m/n smiled at him gratefully, leaving the room, shutting the door behind him. taehyun looked at the door regretfully, bowing his head, having missed his chance to take his crush to prom.

"i should've asked him," taehyun took a seat next to sooyoung on the bed, leaning his head on her shoulder. "i had my chance and i missed it."

"i think you need to have more faith in him, taehyun." sooyoung smiled. a knock was heard, taehyun opening the door to find m/n standing with the roses in hands.

"is everything okay, m/n?"

"everything will be fine if you be my date tonight taehyun," m/n smiled charmingly, holding out the roses in front of him. taehyun could only look at him with a shocked expression on his face, barely able to choke out a confirmation. "so is that a yes?"

taehyun snatched the roses out of m/n's hands, throwing them into the air, grabbing his best friend's face and kissing the life out of him. m/n recovered quickly, reciprocating the kiss just as passionately. their lips slotted together perfectly, sending electricity through both of their bodies. m/n ignored the flash from the side, focusing on every bit of emotion running through his body. taehyun pulled away first, feeling every bit breathless as m/n looked at him affectionately.

"as much as i'm happy for you guys, i don't appreciate feeling like a third wheel here." sooyoung tried to tease them but couldn't help the smile making its way across her features. she walked forward, hooking an arm around each male's and dragging them outside. "now let's go. the limo's here."

even though sooyoung stood between them, taehyun and m/n had hearts in their eyes as they stared at each other.

--

taehyun ran his hand through his hair nervously, trying to stop the onslaught of tears welling up within him.

"your parents rang," chaewon's voice called out from behind him. he turned around slowly from his position on the floor, willing his tears away. "your suit fitting has been moved a week away because the designer's mother had fallen sick and now she's in hospital. but now we've got to go to the wedding cake tasting tomorrow. is that alright?" chaewon asked, stiffly polite in her question.

taehyun nodded wordlessly, returning to his previous position. chaewon bit her lip before vacating the house once again.

flipping over the page, there was a loose paper that floated outwards. taehyun opened it, revealing a polaroid of himself and m/n. it depicted himself and m/n underneath a mistletoe, holding each other.

--

the party was in full swing, everybody had already gotten mostly drunk. m/n could hear sooyoung's high pitched laughter from his position on the porch, making himself comfortable on the rocking chair. convincing sooyoung's parents to let her host the party was difficult. they were only swayed because m/n had told them he would be sober the entire night and because they trusted him more than sooyoung.

being the wannabe matchmaker she is, sooyoung had insisted on hanging up mistletoe above every available doorway in the entire house. even in the doorway of the bathroom. m/n originally had no problem with it, until some girls started getting awfully close to taehyun, trying him to lure him under any available mistletoe they could find. m/n tried to push down the green monster that was trying to make an appearance, retreating outside to get his wits about himself.

he let out a deep breath, watching as it disappeared off into the cold night. rubbing his hands together, m/n instead focused on the way the snowflakes floated gently to the ground, letting his thoughts drift towards taehyun.

"here you are," taehyun called, leaning on the doorway. m/n smiled as taehyun closed the door behind him, taking up a seat right next to his best friend.

"here i am," m/n nodded, returning his gaze to the falling snow. even though they had gone to prom together and shared a kiss on those many nights ago, their relationship had never changed. they still treated as each other as best friends, both of them too scared to address their feelings. taehyun shuffled closer, breathing into his hands, trying to warm them up.

instead of putting them in his pockets, taehyun grabbed m/n's hand, squeezing their fingers together tightly. m/n stiffened, but quickly relaxed, turning to lean his head on taehyun's shoulder. m/n puckered his lips on top of taehyun's neck, tickling the other.

"what was that?" taehyun asked, a serene smile gracing his lips.

"i said, i don't want to share you." m/n admitted. "i don't want those girls being around you while i'm here. you're supposed to be mine."

"silly m/n," taehyun patted m/n's cheek softly. "you're the only person my eyes go to. of course, i'm yours, but that also means you're mine, understand?" m/n nodded wordlessly, sitting up properly but squeezing taehyun's fingers tightly before staring into his eyes.

it seemed to become their thing, staring into each other's eyes. m/n had already admitted that he enjoyed it a lot. he enjoyed the feeling of looking at the one person in the world who makes him feel like a better person and having that person staring back at them in the same way.

a soft click broke them out of their lovestruck gaze, sooyoung shaking the polaroid picture. when it finally developed, she handed the picture to m/n.

"i'm so glad you're both so happy," sooyoung smiled softly, giving them both pecks on the cheek before returning to the party inside.

m/n looked at the picture carefully before taehyun's fingers tipped his chin up, locking their lips together lovingly once more.

--

taehyun felt his mind breaking apart as he ran his fingers over the polaroid, caressing it ever so gently. he kissed his fingers and placed them upon the picture, before setting the photobook aside to recollect his thoughts. he had half a mind to run away right this moment, to find m/n and restart his life with his soulmate at his side, but he couldn't do it. his mood dropped once more as he tried to resume his previous task of filling the bookshelf.

taehyun ignored the comforting hand that appeared on his shoulder, shrugging it off as quickly as it came. there was a hum of disapproval behind him before a kiss was placed delicately on his cheek, the footsteps behind him growing fainter and fainter. his eyes widened as his body erupted into a full blush, his entire being heating up. but when he turned around, there was no one there.

his eyes couldn't help but land on the open photo book on the ground, eventually returning to his previous position. with every memory he relived, his heart broke a little every time. he could feel his heart shattering as he turned to the back cover, a silver ring resting in a small compartment of the book.

--

"are you cheating on me?" m/n asked, not trying to tip-toe around the subject, leaning up from his position on taehyun's chest. the morning sun had just appeared, its rays of light illuminating taehyun's small bedroom. taehyun tried not to look offended, even if he did look like a gaping fish.

"no?" taehyun's voice croaked, still scratchy from just waking up. "i mean, i'm pretty sure i'm not."

"okay, that's good." m/n seemed satisfied with that answer, shrugging his shoulders and rolling off the other's body, much to taehyun's displeasure. taehyun unsuccessfully tried to pull the other male back into bed, his grasp failing by a few centimeters. m/n ignored his lover's struggle, hanging his legs off the side of the bed as he reached into his bag and pulled out a small box.

taehyun rubbed his eyes lazily as he sat up, watching his love with content eyes. m/n soon returned, taking a seat directly in front of his love with his legs crossed.

"so, i've been thinking..." m/n twiddled the box nervously in his fingers. "we've been together for four years now. we met when we were fifteen and i've never looked at someone and thought, 'he's going to be my boyfriend, i wonder what it'd be like if his lips were on mine', until i met you. and then when we became best friends, i felt like you were my good-luck charm. you were there when i got top of the class, you were at my first dance recital, you were the first person i thought of when i could choose who to spend my birthday with. i'm sorry, i'm not meant to be getting this sappy."

m/n sniffled, rubbing at the unshed tears in his eyes. taehyun smiled softly, reaching forward to peck m/n's check. he laced their fingers together and squeezed gently, urging his love to continue.

"you were the first person i thought about when i woke up and the last person i thought about at night. you're everything i've ever needed. taehyun kang, you are my best friend, the person i can always lean on, the one absolute person i know i can count on; you're the love of my life and i never want to spend another moment without you. i know we're a little too young to be married, but i was hoping that you could be mine in a more official way?"

m/n opened the box to reveal a silver ring. it was designed simply and elegantly, its most defining feature is the phrase carved out on both sides.

'my best friend, my lover, my everything'.

"how am i meant to top that when we get married?" taehyun sighed exasperatedly, flopping back on the bed. m/n smiled as taehyun quickly got back up again and planted a soft peck on his lips. "but to be completely honest, it looks like we had the same idea." he reached into the bedside drawer and pulled out a small leather box, opening it to reveal a simple gold ring.

m/n smiled brightly, setting the ring down on the drawer and leaping forward into taehyun's arms, connecting their lips together. they kissed and the world stopped turning because it couldn't bear to interrupt such a sweet moment. it was slow and comforting, passionate and powerful just like taehyun. when it heated up, intense and strong, reliable and loving just like m/n.

when the need for air becomes too great, they finally broke apart, their breaths mingling with one another.

"we've never said this before but," taehyun blushed brightly. "i love you."

"i love you too." m/n replied lovingly before his lips descended on the others.

--

taehyun finally let himself break down, tears streaming down his face uncontrollably. how could he be so stupid? loving m/n had quickly become synonymously with a happy life and he had let that go. like all those years together had meant nothing, when they meant everything.

chaewon stood behind him in the doorway, looking at her husband-to-be before walking away, pulling her phone out and barking angrily into it.

taehyun tried to compose himself as much as he could, he had already opened the treasure trove of memories, now he had to see them through. but he couldn't help but contain the tears that spilled when he pulled out a sketch of himself and his former love.

--

"i don't think i can do this anymore," taehyun lied through his teeth. m/n looked confused before freezing, realization setting in at his lover's words. "i've been lying to myself for too long now. you've been the most amazing person, m/n, don't get me wrong. but i've been thinking and i just don't think i feel that same spark for you like when we first met."

m/n nodded slowly, even if he didn't like what he was hearing.

"have you found someone else?" he croaked out sadly, willing his voice not to crack. the corner's of taehyun's mouth turned up unconsciously. "how do they make you feel?"

"she makes me see something in myself and constantly makes me want to be a better person. i see something and instead of thinking about how happy it would make me, i think about how much happier it would make her. she gives me even more comfort than my parents. i could act any way i want in front of her but i know for sure that her feelings wouldn't change." taehyun ranted on, thinking subconsciously about the person sitting across the table from him.

"have you been with her while you've been with me?" m/n's voice shrunk, but taehyun quickly grabbed his hand.

"i would never," taehyun's voice was deadly serious. "i would never break up our relationship just because i don't feel the same anymore. you deserve more than that."

"thank you for telling me," it took all of m/n's willpower to not run out of the cafe, to go back to his apartment and bury himself under his covers and never leave. it took all of his willpower to not scream at taehyun and ask why, why is he not good enough. but instead, he smiles tight-lipped as he rises from his seat and pushes it in. "i hope she makes you, even more, happier than i did. i just want you to know that i'll always treasure our memories together.

m/n leaned over to press one final kiss against taehyun's cheek before departing.

their hearts broke in sync as m/n walked away.

--

taehyun smiled sadly at the sketch of two of them, even if some of his tears stained the picture. he quickly put all of the things back in the box and walked upstairs. he sat down quietly on the bed, pulling out his last picture of m/n.

"it was always you, m/n. never anybody else."

[sebbybooks]

Our Vintage Summers (PT2)

Sebastian Stan x Fanfiction

~ She was his one. He was her only. Not even the essence of time could keep them apart.~

He was in my house.

After Sebastian turned down the invitation to come over tonight he showed up hours later right as the storm made its ways towards us. Sebastian was somewhere downstairs talking with my sister, because I could hear her overly enthused laughter fill up the entire house. Anya called for me to join them once more but my legs felt full of heavy metal. I was still clutching onto the picture that rendered me voiceless. Standing at the top of the staircase staring back at it under better lighting the exact year was unclear, but if I had to take a shot in the dark I’d say this was taken around the time a gallon of gas was only a quarter. Despite the couple in the photo sharing our exact features there was no way that they could really be Sebastian and I.

Each step that I took down the stairs felt like I was walking into the eye of the storm and no amount of positive affirmations could calm my shaky nerves. I wasn't sure what I planned on doing once I was face to face with Sebastian again. A thousand thoughts swarmed through my mind with questions on top of questions. In the end none of them had practical explanations or made any sense whatsoever. Considering I found the picture in plain sight surely that meant my grandmother knew about it. I wondered if she wanted me to find it and that's why she left me her house? The one thing that I knew for certain was that Sebastian being here was no coincidence. I mean after all he had dropped into my life with such curious timing.

"Finally! We were going to send a search and rescue party up there if you didn't come back down sooner!" Anya waved me into the living room where everyone was seated. It didn't take me more than two seconds to spot Sebastian. I studied his face like it was the ceiling at the Sistine Chapel hoping to see something remotely different than what was photographed. The only differences I spotted was the clothes and hair. In the picture the man’s hair was shorter and curlier from what I could tell. The Sebastian that was present in my house had much longer hair that was pulled back. His face was clean shaven it showed off all the imperfections that he did not have on the outside. Apart from those two things both guys were identical and it fucking terrified me.

"I went looking for candles." There wasn't an ounce of moisture in my mouth. My throat felt so dry you'd think I swallowed a jar of cotton balls. I took baby steps as I entered into the room feeling like my world was titling on its axis. Remi moved a spot down on the sofa assuming that I was going to join her. The thought of being only a few feet away from Sebastian for some reason halted me in my place. Sebastian was sitting on the edge of a tufted gray ottoman in the center of the room as he shook beads of water from his hair. His clothes were so soaked they practically formed to his body. Just from seeing him for five seconds the tightness in my chest returned with a vengeance. It was as though my own body hummed to life in his presence. I had to steady my breathing if I didn't want to heighten the sensation of having what felt like a premature heart attack.

"And did you find any?" Anya asked.

"What's the point the lights are back on now." I cut her off as I twist in the direction to face my sister who eyed me skeptically.

"I didn't mean to show up like this in the middle of the night unannounced. I seemed to have run into some car trouble trying to get back on the road. This house was the first place within miles." When Sebastian stood up I paid absolutely no mind to the visible formation of his chest through his wet tshirt. The polaroid was still folded in the palm of my hand and when I felt no one was looking I shoved it in my back pocket.

The smile adorning his face slowly began to fade when he realized I hadn't spoken a word to him yet. There was so much that I wanted to ask him. I just didn’t know what was the right thing to say that didn’t make me come across as someone who escaped an insane asylum. We were not friends and we were barely acquaintances. For all I knew I just let in a complete stranger who spoke of my grandmother like she was a darling saint. All I could do was mentally laugh at the thought. I wonder did he even know her at all?

“Well it's a good thing you have been here before and knew the way back.” I briskly left back out of the area not exactly caring that I wasn't acting like myself. At that moment I can honestly can say that not a single fuck was given. It wasn’t like I was going to confront him in the middle of the living room and have five pairs of eyes look at me like a deranged woman. Though by the looks of it I did that on my own already. Hitting me like a wrecking ball all of a sudden a wave of tiredness passed through my body. The idea of getting rest felt like a turn on, and yet there wasn't a chance in hell that I was going to be able to fall asleep tonight. I sensed someone hot on my heels, but I was too lost in thought as I scrummaged around the kitchen cupboards looking for something strong to drink.

I never caught a whiff of alcohol in my grandmother’s possession for as long as I stayed in her care. She probably assumed Anya an I were deviants and couldn’t be trusted to be under the same roof as it. It was a miracle when I located a bottle of Prichard's Tennessee whiskey hidden away above the kitchen shelf. Half of it was already gone it was probably just another thing my grandmother kept to herself. She kept her life tucked away like she was forcibly trying to keep everyone at bay. I just never understood why.

“Mind if I join you?” I spun around immediately almost tripping over my own two feet.

I shielded the bottle underneath my arm looking back at Sebastian like I had just been caught. “I really hate to keep asking you for favors but can I get some ice for my hand?” He held up his wrist and the back of his knuckles were bloodied. His hand looked like he was in a wrestling match with the member in the Fantastic Four, the one known as Thing.

"That looks pretty bad." I say.

He nodded in agreement. "Surprisingly it doesn't hurt right now. I know if I don't put ice on it soon I'll be paying the price in the morning." Sebastian's mouth set in a discontented line.

I removed the whisky from my hold placing it on top of the kitchen island. My back was turned away from him as I paced around the kitchen getting the stuff he needed for his hand. I could feel his eyes watching my every movement and it didn’t help knowing that there was a photo burning a hole in my back pocket. “Do I even want to know what happened?” I asked absentmindedly.

“It’s kind of a long and complex story.” He tells me.

The bitter tone in Sebastian’s voice made me wonder if the torn flesh on his skin was accidental or intentional? All I knew was that it was a can of worms I did not want to open considering I was already trying to make sense of seeing my face in a completely different time period. My hands were busy putting ice cubes in a cloth that I found in a random drawer. I tied it in a knot at the end before handing it off to Sebastian. "Then why don't you just skip to the ending?"

A strangled laugh erupts from his throat. "That's the problem. . . there isn't one." He leaned forward on the counter that separated us and for a brief moment I sensed that he wanted to say more but chose differently. It was almost like he was fighting with himself about what was going on in his head. Perhaps he was telling the truth about leaving Nantucket he had changed out of his clothes from the beach. Sebastian's sleeves were bunched up his arm near his elbows, and there was no denying that this guy went to the gym.

"Wait!" I blurted. Acting on instinct I lunged forward taking back the ice rag I had just given Sebastian. He looked at me confused and I don't blame him for it. "I really think you should clean that first to prevent an infection." I wasn't sure why I cared so much it was no skin off my back if he didn't take my advice. Despite my better judgement the hushed voices in my head kept pushing me and pushing me to keep him close.

"Sia it's really not that bad." Sebastian looked down at his battered hand assessing the damage himself.

"Don't say I didn't warn you when a nasty bacteria festers on your hand." I say nonchalantly all the while hoping he changes his mind. Sebastian scrubs his hand over his jaw while looking at me with wonder.

"Isn't that little extreme don't you think?"

"Suit yourself then." I shrug.

I placed the ice rag back on the counter for him to get. I grabbed the whisky bottle by the neck and headed over to the cupboard to get a drinking glass. Before I walked away to leave out of the kitchen Sebastian responds. "Ok fine you're right." He lets out a little sigh finally caving in.

It was a small victory I'm not quite sure why I was so elated that I won. My emotions were constantly flip flopping in his presence I was having a hard time keeping up with myself. In my head I alternate the decision of showing him the picture now or wait for the right moment. The problem was there wasn't a right moment and it wasn't like he was going to stay in this kitchen forever.

"Let me go get a first aid kit." I tap my fingers on the countertop, wondering to myself what on earth was I doing? I purposely avoided going into the living room because if it's one thing that I knew about my big sister it was that she had a talent for smelling out bullhsit. I couldn't even lie to her as a kid. It wasn't a skill I could easily master and keeping secrets from her practically duals as lying in my book.

Despite me not being in this house for more than a decade my feet guided me through the house on muscle memory. I was headed for the guest bathroom on the first floor. It was the only bathroom Anya and I were allowed to use despite there was at least two bathrooms on every floor. As I thought to myself I started to take notice that this placed hadn't looked lived in for years. So I could only assume that the medicine cabinets were bare. The bathroom door was closed and a dim light shinned from underneath.

I heard a voice coming from behind the door so I stood quiet next to it long enough to hear that it belonged to Anya. Her voiced sounded muffled as though she was purposely trying to talk in a hush tone. The conversation sounded one sided because I could only hear her voice. "What am I suppose to do mom? She's suppose to remember by now that's what you said."

Silence followed after that and I could hear my sister stomping her feet against the tiled floor. I thought about knocking on the door to see what had gotten her so upset, because I didn't like that I was ease dropping. However, what she said next stopped me.

"I checked everywhere mother!" Anya exclaimed out of frustration before resuming to a lowered tone again. "She didn't leave anything behind. What if you were wrong and this time is different?" There was a beat of silence again and all I could hear was faint sniffling. From the sound of it Anya had been crying.

I counted to five in my head before I started to knock on the door. Anya began wrapping up the call with our mom. The water from the sink started to run then within a minute Anya had the door open with a fake smile on her face.

"Sia! Heeey!" Her voice drawled out as she ran her hand through her wavy black hair that was a stark contrast from my own. My hair started to gray at the ripe young age of sixteen. When I noticed that it was changing at a rapid pace and I couldn't keep up with dying my roots. I eventually said fuck it and died it a silvery gray. It took some getting use to but the look eventually grew on me.

"What are you doing down here? Don't you have some new furniture you want to sit on?" Anya's mischievous smile grew big, while trying to make her voice sound as casual as possible. As per usual I caught the sense that this was her way of trying to deflect on the conversation she had with our mother. It was hard trying to decode what the hush whispering was about. I knew if I brought up what I overheard Anya would finesse her way out of telling me the truth like always.

"Are you talking about Sebastian?"I asked, feigning stupid.

She frowned looking completely annoyed at my inept ability to posses a dirty mindset like her own. "Of course I'm talking about Sebastian! I'm sorry did you not see the way he was devouring you with his eyes just a few minutes ago?"

I couldn't control the laughter that came out of my mouth. "Devouring me with his eyes?" I repeated. "Have you found yourself in mom's stash of Nora Roberts books again?"

"No need." She said before hesitating, "I have them downloaded on my kindle smart ass."

When I tried stepping around her to get into the bathroom she blocked me from going inside. Positioning herself in the center of the door, while out stretching her arms so that I wouldn't surpass her.

I cocked a brow. "Do you mind? I need to get some things out of here." Considering our height difference wasn't on an even playing field I wasn't in the mood to tackle my sister. I just wanted to get the items that I needed and go back to the kitchen.

"I'm just going to say it. I think you should sell the damn place." She came out and said not missing a single beat.

"Anya I haven't even signed my name on the deed yet. Beside this property has been in our family for generations doesn't that mean something to you in the slightest?" I asked her. Instead of giving me a more practical response Anya dropped her arm in surrender. "No it does not."

We stood eye to eye with lingering silence between us until she caved and sauntered down the hall huffing like a child once again. Instead of chasing her down and asking her where the hell that random question came from all of a sudden. I shelved it next to the other unanswered questions I had gnawing on my brain. I quickly scavenged around the bathroom for what I needed. All I found was antiseptic ointment that barely made its expiration date and with luck gauze. When I went back into the kitchen Sebastian was sitting on top of a counter with his back against a wall. His lips were wrapped around the bottle of whiskey as he downed it like it was water, and he was a man dying of thirst.

"Your chest must burn by now ." I said in amusement as I placed the stuff I procured next to him. "And who said I was sharing that?" I pointed to the bottle in his hands.

He smiled and flicked his eyes to his drink before bringing it back to his mouth. I don't understand why but my mind seems to turn into putty when he stares at me like he sees every intimate little detail about me. Which is strange because I've only see him twice, yet ever since that moment on the beach I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. I'm pretty sure I might have manifested his car breaking down only for him to return.

"Considering that it's mine may have something to do with it." He swept his tongue across his bottom lip, making sure to savor every last drop. The raspy tone in his voice alone could kill me.

"So you're admitting to drinking on the job then?" I cleared my throat while I unraveled the gauze. I wanted to focus on the task at hand, because being only a few inches apart was becoming harder than I thought.

"It was from your grandmother. It was a here you might want to drink this first kind of gift." He leaned his back against the cabinets and our eye contact was immediately broken.

"Oh." I said unsure of what he meant by that. It was hard trying to envision the version of my grandmother he knew. This coming from the same woman who told me not to chew gum around her, because it made me look like a cow chewing cud. I found it a bit unbelievable that there was a benevolent and even considerate side to her.

"May I?" I asked, gesturing towards his hand. My heart was thudding rapidly against my chest like I had never laid eyes on a man before. I was fighting with the primal instinct to sink my teeth into him. At least Anya would be proud to know that the apple didn't fall too far from the tree.

Without even waiting for permission I gently lifted his hand while I ran it under the sink. During the first half I worked in an awkward silence. Getting lost in my thoughts I kept replaying moments that took place in the day that seems like it would never come to an end. I thought about the fact that my grandmother was gone and she was never coming back. An after the rocky history I had with her of all the people she could have picked she chose me to be the one to get this house. It didn't make sense to me whatsoever and to top it off her unlikely friendship with Sebastian was even more puzzling to my mind. Something just didn't add up to me.

"I'm starting to sense that you're not a talkative person." Sebastian says before he takes another swig of whiskey.

Still looking down I paid attention to my handiwork as I lightly dabbed his hand with antiseptic ointment. "Actually I'm a very talkative person. I just don't know you that well."

"Fair enough." I didn't have to look up to see he was inhaling his drink like a fish at this point. I wondered if Sebastian was using the alcohol to mask his own grief. I may not have understood his relationship with my grandmother but he lost her too I suppose.

Reaching up I decided to take the bottle out of his hands. "You could at least leave some for me." I brought it up to my mouth feeling the liquid fire smoothly glide down my throat. Sebastian holds my stare like before but this time I was the first to break. It was like we were playing some unspoken game of cat and mouse. It was an unnecessary tease that cultivated out of thin air.

Sebastian wets his lips. "Can I confess something to you Sia?" For a second my heart stopped. All the air going to my lungs felt trapped at the thought that Sebastian knew about the photo as well.

"That depends." I huffed out an elongated sigh. Instead of answering his question I responded with one of my own."Are you going to tell me what happened to your hand first?" I carefully watched as his chest rises and falls. He pins me with a hopeless expression as he searches my face like it was an antidote for his misery. I finish wrapping up his injury, but he doesn't lift his hand from mine. A tortuous heat sweeps over my skin that moves to my very core.

If it were anyone else I'd remove it in a heartbeat. That was the thing though, as crazy as it may have sounded he wasn't anyone else. In my head I sounded like every cliche under the sun but deep down I knew I wasn't wrong. I stared at our semi joint hands, feeling frightened and confused by how a simple touch from Sebastian felt like I had finally reached the end of my crushingly long journey of searching for someone I thought I dreamt up.

Glee, sadness, and pain overwhelming crashed through me all at once. It felt as though my soul was crying from being set free after being caged up for so long. Somehow I had managed to unlock so many emotions, but nothing as much a memory accompanied it. Almost like it was solely a phantom feeling. My body ached for the missing part of me that was no longer there.

"My car is perfectly fine." Sebastian looks deeply into my eyes and not even for a second does it silence the madness in my head. As quickly as I felt it the sensation suddenly was lost. I edged my hand away from him causing his hand to lose support.

My jaw goes rigid and my lips twitch. "I really hope you have a decent explanation as to why you lied to me or I'll have no problem calling the cops." I snap.

Sebastian stiffens. "Sia before you freak out on me let me at least say one thing first." He lifts himself off of the counter in one fluid motion. I slowly back away from him feeling that ounce of whiskey I consumed sour on my stomach while fearing the absolute worse.

"You have less than ten seconds before I start fucking screaming." I threatened. I felt insanely stupid, I knew there was more than meets the eye with him. Good or bad I was too trusting of those feelings I had from earlier that derived from the land of make believe. I saw and felt what I wanted to.

Sebastian tries to approach me, but I hold up my hands to stop him. "I'm not trying to scare you." Looking back at his pleading expression it wavers from disgust to tenderness. I want to believe him, but that is how I fell for his trap in the first place.

"Five seconds." I grit out. Ignoring any of my warnings he takes steps towards me and I'm frozen in place. Sebastian draws in a deep breath, and as he opens his mouth to speak the most insane thing happens before my very eyes. I swear I might have imagined it. One second he was real and standing right in front of me the next I watched as he faded away. Then as if on cue I saw blackness as I felt my body sink to the ground.

Tagged for Updates🐚:

@faithhasnowords @infinityflamesworld

*A/N* Hi lovelies! I hope you all are staying safe at home💕

[ramenkween]

Lover

Billy Hargrove x female reader

Summary: Billy has found peace and happiness since meeting you one month after the events of July 4 1985. Five years later, you and Billy reside in a small beach house in California and celebrate your first Christmas there.

Words: 2,580

 inspired by the song Lover by Taylor Swift.

Warnings: none, apart from the fact this is super long and I am so so sorry for that! I got really excited when writing this but I hope you all like it, this is my first Billy x female reader fic ever!

 …

Santa Monica, California

1990

You and Billy have been living in the bustling city of Santa Monica, California for almost 6 months. It was everything you both wanted; to be away from Hawkins, Indiana, and in the place where you both dreamed of being. Billy spoke of California non-stop since you both declared your love for each other one starry night in a football field of a town you longed to get away from. You suggested Santa Monica as your place to reside after going on a date to the movies to watch The Lost Boys, where Santa Monica was renamed Santa Carla. So, the two of you were determined to make that dream possible; with the help of your supportive parents (who loved and accepted Billy the moment you introduced him to them) and after working a series amount of jobs and saving every penny you received, you left behind the dreaded town of Hawkins, Indiana in the rainy sight of Billy’s rear-view mirror, awaiting the sunshine and sea salt waves of Santa Monica. Billy joked that if there were any more vampires lurking there, you’d be fully ready thanks to Corey Feldman and Jamison Newlander’s handy guide to vampire slaying.

The beach house you bought there was very small, but the two of you didn’t care. It looked run down and was in need of serious repair when you bought it, but the two of you worked hard to make it yours. The two of you continued to work to pay for other expenses; Billy secured a job as Santa Monica Beach’s lifeguard and surfing instructor, gaining the attention of all the women yet again. But Billy ignored them all; he knew his heart was yours. You worked as a barmaid at the pier’s popular barcade – a place where adults can drink and play Pac-Man at the same time. It wasn’t the greatest salary of course, but it was enough to keep you sustained.

 Santa Monica was also just an hour’s drive away from Billy’s mother, too. You had the pleasure of finally meeting her; she’s as beautiful as Billy described her, and even more so kind. You have her over as much as you can and it makes Billy happy. You remember when you first invited her over for dinner; when you finished and was in the kitchen washing up you overhear a conversation between the two of them.

“Billy… I’m so sorry” she started to cry. “I am so, so sorry that I never came back for you. I should’ve come back for you…” Billy quickly pulled his mother into his arms and gently embraced her. Billy was a lot taller than her now as he kissed her forehead.

“Mom, it’s okay” he comforted her as he held her face in his hands. “I never stopped thinking about you.”

“I just wish you didn’t have to go with your father… I wish I was there for you…” Billy sat her down at the table which was half cleaned.

“Listen to me” he spoke gently. “If I hadn’t gone to Hawkins, I wouldn’t have met Y/N. She makes me happy, mom. And now that we’re both here, we’re not going anywhere.”

Billy’s mom wiped her tears away and let out a small laugh as you entered the room, wiping your hands. They both looked at you.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt –”

“Don’t be silly” she murmured. “Y/N, come here.” She took your hand as you approached her, placing it on top of Billy’s hand. She covered both your hands with hers, gripping it tightly.

“You’re both wonderful people” she started to say. “Look after each other in this new life you have together. Remember that along the way you will have your disagreements, but love is the most important thing you both have. You have each other, and that’s all that matters in the world.”

You and Billy looked at each other, hearts full of love and wonder. His eyes sparkled the way they always did when he looked at you, and you always had the fluttery feeling in your stomach.

“I love your son more than anything” you said without taking your eyes off Billy. “There’s nothing that I wouldn’t do for him.”

The night went on with just the three of you; it was the happiest you’d both been.  

Three months after moving there, Billy even surprised you with a new addition to your lives; a black and white Siberian husky puppy. You were over the moon and ever so excited to raise her. Billy specifically got a husky since it resembled a wolf but also remembered a brief conversation the two of you had years ago; you told him that his spirit animal would most definitely be a wolf because of their representation of freedom and perseverance. They also conveyed strength and courage – all the key factors you’ve seen Billy portray since that night on Fourth of July five years ago.

“We’ll call her Liberty” he said, smiling whilst cradling her in his arms. “Libby for short. What do you think?”

A smile stretched across your face as you admired the view of Billy gently swaying your new puppy. “Liberty Hargrove. It’s perfect.”

And it really was. Your life was perfect in every aspect of the word.

 The house overlooked Santa Monica beach below and the two of you would surf almost every day at sunrise; Billy taught you how to ride the waves like he promised and showed you to be fearless of the waters. When you’d finish surfing and return to your beloved home, you’d make breakfast while Billy took Libby out for a quick walk around the neighbourhood. You made friends quickly and was pretty much welcomed by the community. Some nights after a busy day at work, you’d make room in your small living room to slow dance to the rock ballads of your senior year of high school. You’d pick Libby up and sway her along with you when she started getting insistent to join in on the fun. On your days off together, which would be on some weekdays and most weekends, you would simply relax together in the living room with the doors wide open, catching the sea breeze and morning sun on your skins; you’d be sitting cross-legged on the sofa reading a book while Billy sat on the floor opposite, strumming small tunes on the acoustic guitar you gifted him for his 19th birthday.

“Sounds beautiful, baby” you’d tell him while reading. Billy let out a low chuckle as he played around with the strings. “I may or may not be writing a song for you” he teased. That same night when Libby had drifted to sleep, he’d start singing you a song about a man who loved a goddess of the sea. His voice was slightly out of tune and raspy, but you loved it nonetheless. After longing kisses and confessions of how much you both loved one another, it would carry on to an endless night of passionate lovemaking. Two souls connecting as one, never wanting to let go of one another and losing yourself in the thrill of it all. You’d both sleep in the next morning, locked in each other’s naked embrace and tangled in the sheets of the fun from the night before. You’d usually be the first to wake up to admire Billy’s sleeping face, curly blonde hair partially covering his face and his cheek pressed against the pillow. You sweep his hair away from his face and give him gentle kisses on his forehead, the tip of his nose before softly kissing his lips, feeling him smile as you do.

“Good morning, angel” you whisper as you stroke his cheek with your fingertips.

“Hey baby” he said with his rumbly morning voice.

“Would you like some breakfast?” You asked. Billy perched up and groaned a morning stretch; eyes half open as he enthusiastically stated what he wanted.

“Umm… I want… Some pancakes… with the fresh strawberries in the mixture like you always do. Pretty please?”

You give him a passionate kiss before getting out of bed and dressing yourself with the burgundy shirt Billy wore the night before, making your way to your small kitchen. You’d then know that the rest of the day would be perfect.  You and Billy lived the simple life together contently and happily for the past 6 months. It couldn’t get any better than this… could it?

 Christmas Eve, 1990

 It was your first Christmas together in your small beach house in the city. You and Billy had put up the tree two weeks ago, taking Polaroid photos as you went along. The tree was almost as tall as Billy and you decorated it with ornaments and lights, topping it with a silver star. Christmas Eve came around; you and Billy planned a small gathering with some friends you made in your time living there. Billy’s mom was there too, but she didn’t stay for too long as she had plans with friends of her own. Your parents sent a postcard from Hawkins, saying how much they missed you both and wished you a Merry Christmas for your first one away from them. 

Much later the gathering came to an end and your guests went home, leaving you and Billy alone. As you prepared to clean, Billy took his arms around your waist and beckoned you to set them aside for now while you join him for a slow dance in the silence.

“Finally some alone time with my girl,” he said as he kissed your forehead. Libby whined in the background. Billy rolled his eyes and you both laughed.

“We love you too, Libby” you reassured. You wrapped your arms around Billy’s neck and pulled him in for a deep kiss. You continued to dance in the quiet atmosphere.

We can leave the Christmas lights up ‘til January

This is our place, we make the rules

And there’s a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear

Have I known you 20 seconds, or 20 years?

 “What’s on your mind, babe?” you whispered up at him. He looked down at you.

“Nothing, just… you.”

“What about me?” you ask.

“Everything about you. I’m happy you’re here.”

 Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home

You’re my, my, my, my lover

 “Would you have believed it if five years ago someone told you you’d be here with me?” you question. He slowly dips you backwards and up again, cradling you against the crook of his neck.

“I’d tell them they’re crazy. There is no way I thought I’d ever be here with you, in this place, this life. We took a while but we’re here.”

“Was it worth it?”

“Of course, baby. I’d do it all again if I had to.”

 We could let our friends crash in the living room

This is our place, we make the call

And I’m highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you

I’ve loved you three summers now, honey, but I want them all

 Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home

You’re my, my, my, my lover

 After a quick kiss, Billy pulls away from you and holds your hands as he slowly gets down on one knee. You feel your heart race against your chest.

“Billy… What… What are you doing?!”

Billy says nothing for a moment as he admiringly looks at you. He takes a deep breath and you feel his hands shaking.

“I was gonna do this tomorrow, but I couldn’t wait any longer. Y/N, I thought I was gonna die that night. In fact, I was ready to. I’d been an asshole most of my life, and I thought people would be better off without me, you know? But then I’d been given a second chance, and then I met you. And you made me a better man than I ever thought I could be, and you make me happy. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m not gonna risk losing you. So, if you let me…” Billy reached for his back pocket and pulled out a silver ring with a small diamond, holding it up to you. “I want to make the most of my second chance with you forever.”

You start to blink rapidly, trying your best to hold back your tears.

“Oh my god, oh my god…” you feel like you’re about to explode.

“Y/N, I love you. I’ve always loved you. Will you marry me?”

“Are you freaking kidding me?! YES!” before Billy could say anything, you tackle him to the ground and embrace him tightly. He wraps his strong arms around you and rolls you to your back so he hovers over you. Libby happily barks as she tries to jump at both of you with full energy.

“You’re serious right now?” he asked. You cup his cheek and see that his eyes are glistening with tears.

“I am so serious, baby. I want to marry the shit out of you.”

Billy sighs happily as he slides the ring on your finger. He leans down to kiss you before lying on the floor next to you. He takes your hand with the shiny ring and presses it to his lips.

“Mrs Y/N Hargrove… I could get used to that” you say as you admire the ring.

“Oh man, mom is gonna be so happy when I tell her” Billy exclaims. You begin to reminisce the night in the football field when you were both 18; you lay in the cold grass as you looked up at the starry night sky when Billy told you he loved you for the first time. That moment you realised you loved him too. Never had you even dared to dream that he would ask to marry you years later.

“You know we still have to clean, right?” you gestured to the messy table across you. Billy groaned, “In a minute. I want to just spend this moment with my new fiancée”. With that, he gets up off the floor walks over to your record player and puts on a slow song. He extends his hand, “Dance with me again?”

You gather yourself from the floor and take his hand. He pulls you in close and within seconds you’re slowly moving together to the beat of the song.  

“I love you, Billy Hargrove. I love you so damn much.”

Billy brushes your hair behind your ear, gently stroking your jaw.

“I love you too, baby. Forever.”

 Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?

With every guitar string scar on my hand

I take this magnetic force-of-a-man to be my lover

My heart’s been borrowed and yours has been blue

All’s well that ends well to end up with you

Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover

And you’ll save all your dirtiest jokes for me

And at every table, I’ll save you a seat, lover

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home (forever and ever)

You’re my, my, my, my

Oh you’re my, my, my, my

Darling, you’re my, my, my, my lover

[who-gave-atlas-a-pencil]

let us be brave

A/N: Title comes from Sanders Bohlke’s “The Weight of Us”.

Summary: It's been fifteen years since the world went to hell. In the midst of the chaos, five people find a way to make that hell a home.

(Zombie Apocalypse AU. Takes place in the world of The Last of Us, as the author is self-indulgent and obsessed. Expect both hope and hurt in equal measure. Work-in-progress.)

Read on AO3 for notes.

Chapter: 1/?

If you want to be tagged in this story as it updates, please leave a note in the replies!

If he dies tonight, he hopes it will be quick.

Matthew’s lungs ache from running. His ankle is twisted. His hands are covered in blood that doesn’t belong to him. They shake as he bolts the door shut behind him and wonders, not for the first time, if it’s too late to find God again. He wants to pray for a ceiling to crash down on his head, for a false step to break his neck, for anything that will spare him from the carnage he hears outside.

The sounds from the hallway are brutal, hellish clicks and deep, bassy roars. The mask around his face amplifies the already far too loud staccato of his breathing, makes it sound like he’s gasping into a megaphone. All the same, he doubts they hear him outside.

It’s hard to hear anything over the screams.

Matthew checks his gun, pats down his pockets – empty, both of them. He presses his back against the door and slides breathlessly down it, breathing hard in the spore-filled dark. This room has no windows. He’s run himself into a dead end. He wonders if one day someone will find his corpse here, holding onto a cross and an empty gun, and the thought would make him hysterical if he wasn’t already there.

Something heavy hits the ground outside and a familiar scream cuts off all too quick, the noises wet like ripping paper.

Matthew clutches his rosary in hands too slick with gore to hold it, presses his eyes shut, and prays.

---

There’s a gun barrel pressed to the back of his head. He’s twenty two now, has made it five years without succumbing to any of the many grotesque fates he’s watched other people suffer in the wake of the madness. He’s not sure how he’s managed even that much, when all he’s been for five years now is cold and shit-scared that one day he’s going to wake up dead.

The gun cocks and the man behind him spits. “This is for my fuckin' brother,” he snarls.

The knife in Matthew’s hand slides from its sheath quick as a snake. The gun goes off. The blood sprays.  

---

He doesn’t wake up dead, and that’s a relief as much as it is a burden. Sleeping would have been a nice solution to all of this. It would have spared him the terror of trying to get out of the mess he’s found himself in, at any rate. Nevertheless, it hasn’t happened, so- well. That’s that.

Outside, the screams have disappeared. All that remains is the faint, familiar horror of clicking echoing off the walls. Something whimpers inhumanly, and Matthew’s guts churn.

He can’t stay here. He knows that. That doesn’t make it any easier for him to push down the terror that works its way up his throat as he eases the door open as slow as he can. Outside, a pale grey light drifts through the hallway, illuminates the spores in the air until they look magical in some sick sort of way.

Mason swallows hard and wishes for a better mask. It makes the air breathable, but it doesn’t do shit for the way everything here reeks of death and rot. A bowie knife shakes in his hands and when his foot lands in something slick, he makes it a point to not look down. He already knows all too well who these bodies used to be. He doesn’t want the specifics.

He makes his way through the hallway, only breathing when he has to. The spores and the shaded grey on the eyes of his mask make it next to impossible to see, and it’s enough to make his skin crawl. The only thing worse than hearing the Infected stumble around the building is hearing them while having no idea where the fuck they are. Matthew’s not a religious man, but he finds himself reaching one hand toward the familiar and battered rosary in his pocket nonetheless. Get me out of here, he thinks, the words somewhere south of reverent. Either get me out or put me down. I don’t care which.

Immediately ahead of him, an experimental and ragged clicking noise fills the air. Matthew freezes, holding his breath. It comes again, closer now as a figure shambles through the haze of spores and shadows directly toward him.

He thinks it might have been a woman once. Clumps of long, ragged brown hair hang from what’s left of the creature’s skull, sticking out in fine tufts through the fungus that has flowered across its face and split its skull in two. The teeth are rotten in a mouth red with blood like smeared lipstick, and its throat jerks painfully with every fresh click, the abused muscles twitching around the growths that blossom from its neck.

There’s a ring on its left hand, the stone long broken out. He’s not sure why he notices that.

The creature jerks its head to the side like it’s heard something, clicking once again. This close he can smell the rot, and he swears, even though it’s blind, he feels eyes on him, ruined and covered in decay and the jaw unhinges inhumanly wide to scream and-

He doesn’t think about it. Matthew slams the bowie knife three inches into the side of the creature’s neck and twists, pulls it out and slams it in again. Blood sheets down his hand and the front of its shirt and he shoves an arm around it to keep it from hitting the ground too loud, holds the body as it twitches in his arms and fails to make a single noise through the now severed vocal cords. Bile rises in his throat at the smell, that god-awful fucking smell that hangs on these things like a shroud, and he holds the thing down until the twitching stops.

Covered in a long-dead woman’s blood, Matthew swallows hard and continues on his way. He doesn’t stop until he’s past them all, until he finally sees the heavy door with a disused exit sign hanging crookedly over it, until he’s through the door and into the cleaner air and the chill of the approaching evening. Then he runs.

It must be a mile or two later before his legs give out like jelly beneath him, his typical stamina sapped by the stress. Matthew stumbles to the ground with heaving lungs, rips off his mask and pukes hard and heavy, bile stinging his throat. His shoulders shake with effort and then he’s sobbing, breathless with relief that he’s made it this far, that he made it at all. He does not think of the eight people he’d entered the apartment complex with, of Derrick back at the base with a scavenged wedding ring and a plan for a proposal to a man who’s now a corpse, of the picture in Hannah’s pocket that they’d taken on a shitty polaroid two weeks before that must be drenched in blood now.

He knows every one of their names, but he doesn’t dare to think them. Matthew rubs his eyes and stands. Grabs the medallion from his neck and a rag from his pack, pours a little water on it. He scrubs at the blood until it comes off in thick clots, shakes it off on the grass and keeps cleaning until the tarnished face of it is visible again. He runs a thumb over the grooves and clenches it tight in his fist like a prayer. He thinks of Hannah and her sixteen-year-old eyes and the sound of her scream.

He should go to Fort Collins, tell them what happened. Everyone will be waiting. They’ll take the news hard, because there’s no other way to take it, but they’ll grieve together. They’ll find somewhere else to go, something else to do, some other tiny revolution to spark until a soldier puts a bullet in all their backs.

There’s a lot of things he should do, he thinks, and a lot of things he doesn’t want to. But it’s a long way from Ohio to Fort Collins. He’s got time to digest.

Matthew stands up, shoulders his bag, and puts the medallion back around his neck, tucks it under his shirt so he can keep it warm and safe and close to his chest. He looks in the direction he’s come from and thinks of the people still lying there and prays that their souls have found a safer rest.

When you’re lost in the darkness, look for the light.

The sun is setting. Matthew touches his medallion and heads west.

---

In the end, he goes back to Fort Collins just long enough to regret it. Derrick is on watch when he finally arrives after nearly a month on his own, and he asks Matthew where the others are only to crumple like a rag doll when he gets his answer. Two days later, it’s Matthew who finds the body, and he buries Derrick with his wedding ring on. It’s the least he can do.

The others look at him the way most people look at ghosts, wary and just a little bit angry too. Their eyes follow him with accusation, dare him to explain why he’s alive when none of the others are, and he wishes, more than anything, that he had an answer for them. The pendant around his neck hangs heavy as a millstone.

Two months later, another squad goes out to raise hell in Denver. It’s only supposed to be a week but two months pass and they’re still not back, and Matthew stops expecting them. Whatever light the fireflies are supposed to be bringing, it feels like it’s dying out, slow and painful. It’s been a lifetime now since it all went to hell, fifteen years of running. He wonders how much more time he's got before someone strings him up or shoots him in front of a crowd.

Hannah’s got a little sister named Molly. She’s thirteen now but she’s got eyes as old as the mountains west of them, and she never asks about the way it used to be. She used to, before Hannah died. Matthew remembers.

She goes out one day to hunt some game. She comes back with a snared rabbit and a bite wound she doesn’t tell anyone about and the next morning Matthew tries to wake her up and ends up putting her down instead. He takes her medallion and packs up what little he feels an attachment to in his room – a few scattered pictures, a broken bracelet from back before everything, a few comic books from some series Hannah’s mother had loved. Aside from that, he leaves no trace.

He runs into Marion when he leaves. She’s on her way in and he’s on his way out and he thinks she knows, even if he looks about like he always does. Her green eyes are catlike and keen in the dawning light and whatever she’s thinking, they don’t convey it. “Any way I can convince you to stay?” she asks without prelude.

Matthew smiles faintly and shakes his head. “Think it’s time I go look for a light somewhere else.” There’s so many shadows here for him now, so many ghosts. It’s hard to find anything worth fighting for in the wake of a dozen battles lost, and this world is hard enough but he has to live, or try to. He made a promise.

Marion nods, just once. “I hope you find one,” she says, tilting her head back. “Hope you send it our way, when you’re done.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all I can ask.” They share a hug, and Marion smiles with the closest thing to sincerity Matthew’s seen out of her in a long time. They keep walking in opposite directions. Neither of them look back.

---

He finds himself in South Dakota. The Black Hills nearly kill him on several different occasions but he makes it somehow, stumbles out on the far side with a badly sprained ankle and fuel enough for a month’s worth of nightmares. In the distance he can see a town, and he hopes to God that they’ll either be friendly or good enough shots to make him stop worrying.

He runs into a patrol on his way in, and the members of it turn out to fit the first criteria much better than the second. One of them is a fidgety man named Johnny, the other a woman in a ratty green sweater with eyes as sharp as knives. They both point a gun at him when they see him, but neither pulls the trigger, and he expects he ought to be thankful for that. They lead him back to Deadwood and they don’t ask any questions once they’ve clarified that he isn’t bitten.

He means to stay only for a day or two. When three weeks have passed, the man in charge of everything asks him if he just wants to set up in the church, because nobody else in the town has any interest in it and he’s clearly not leaving any time soon. Matthew accepts, because even if it’s a bit drafty and probably not all too structurally sound these days, it’s quiet there. It’s also right next to the graveyard, which means nobody goes there unless they’re forced to, but that suits Matthew just fine. He’s not antisocial by any means, appreciates company where he can find it. The dead just seem to be more his speed, these days.

He puts out the handful of things he took with him from Fort Collins in his room above the church in an attempt to make the place feel a bit like home. It feels like a mausoleum instead, and he takes it all down two days later, tucks it back into his backpack to keep with him always somewhere out of sight.

The town grows on him, and he grows into it. He never quite gets on with the man in charge, but he likes Johnny just fine, swings over to the Gem Saloon to share a drink when the time allows it. Some people take to calling him the Reverend on account of his living situation, and the name sticks.

The seasons change from a frozen winter to a spring that’s not much warmer. The leaves come back anyway, pale and green and gorgeous. Sunlight creeps through the pines and everyone stays out of the forest as much as they can. Matthew goes there more than most, hunting for food and the roots he finds that can be used for medicine. He waits for summer with the same cautious anticipation he used to reserve for waking up on April first, when his sisters were still around to jam his door with pennies so he couldn’t leave for classes.

Matthew keeps his expectations low and his bags packed. He holds onto his Momma’s rosary. He watches the sunrise every morning because he never sleeps through a night.

He waits.

[01010010-posts]

— falling from the doves to the dark of the crow.

1. january – 2037 new year’s eve was just few days ago. you spent a nice evening with some close friends, ate, laughed, drank. but it turned out to be a temporary placebo, as the dread of living has its clutches around your heart again. it’s cold outside and the only thing you’d like to do is sleep forever in the warm cocoon of your white soft duvet. even scrolling endlessly on your phone is useless, everyone is with their relatives and they really don’t have time to think about you. you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. it has come to this then, huh. you roll over the other side of the bed. you’ve decided. you could die and nothing would change.

2. february – 2037 you’ve been promoted at work. your colleagues organized a small party during the lunch break. you still felt nothing. rather, you got the urge to throw up. someone else could use that money. someone else with a family, with hopes, dreams, desires. not someone like you for sure. you feel guilty for taking up space, in this economy, in this world. you should enjoy your life and yet. yet there’s something at the back of your mind, gnawing, chewing your brain with steely fangs, unceasing, unrelenting. when you get home you toss your grey bag onto the couch and let yourself fall on the mattress. you silently cry for an hour or so. after your red eyes decide to take a rest you lift your phone and check for messages. none. except an e-mail. weird advertisement about purchasing a house. you guess that since everything is connected lots of estate agencies already know about your new salary. you have enough to buy a modest place in the outskirts of detroit. or enough to buy an android, which is as pricey as that. an android? you stop mid-thinking. where did that come from? you have strange ideas for a person that barely wants to live.

3. march – 2037 “would you like to give it a name?” “no” you nervously blurt out, a bit uncomfortable. give it a name? you’re not its parent, it’s not your duty to give it a name. and were you to give it a name, would it become your responsibility then? you sign some papers about a division into instalments. there they go, your savings. you shrug it off, after all long-term plans were never your thing. you always had the sensation that you weren’t going to live past your twenty but here you are. here you are. outside of a shop, wind howling, leaves moving along the sidewalk, you and between your arms a brown bag of groceries with red apples sticking out on top, your android beside with its fingers clasped behind its back. a sepia-toned polaroid of utter confusion and a simply-led life. you didn’t have a clue about how or why everything was going this way.

4. april – 2037 a caretaker model. you’ve found that it is rather handy. it follows your orders but it is also independent enough to cook you a meal without specifying exactly what you would like to eat. which is nice, you guess. choosing every day was starting to be very miserable. it does the shopping too, as it has a huge amount of free time when you’re away. (it cleans during the night). it’s to make sure you have a healthy diet, it says. fair enough. you don’t actually mind it taking control of your daily menial tasks. it’s easier both for you and for it. usually when you get back from your job you’re already too tired to read or watch some television. and if you had the energy, you think you wouldn’t want to anyway. books are full of ads nowadays and reading one is a hassle. the tv always has bad news and you’re not going to demoralize yourself more. also would it ‘scold’ you? reminding you that staring so much at a monitor will reduce your eyesight? you bet it would say these kinds of things for your own benefit. but still, being a ‘good’ person is hard. a warm hearty dinner. you’re glad. you generally don’t feel like eating after such a long day but gulping down the whole thing it’s rather easy. it seems.... ‘satisfied’ while watching you. probably its mimicking program. perhaps looking at its smile, even if fake, might make you at ease.

5. may – 2037 the third month living with it. you only hear its voice when it needs directions to abide by. any other dialogue would be unnecessary. of course you’re gonna grow crazy if this keeps up. one thing is living alone, but another is living with someone and not talking to him– him? what? don’t tell me you’re considering it as a person? freak. you spent two or three nights with the sheets hiding your body, the blue light of your phone illuminating your little breathing space, searching on blogs about androids and humans relationships. maybe it’ll help you make small talk. the lone comments you find, though, are about that kind of bond. should it disgust you? mhh. you close your lids and try to imagine how something like this would play out. it wouldn’t. there’s a reason why you’re single. but not desperate.

6. june – 2037 you’re fed up. you don’t care about what others will think at this point. you need to talk with– with– him. you’ve thought this. he’s definitely a machine. but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be gentle to him. so screw it. you’re going to have conversations. whether he likes it or not. “hey– um, you don’t have a name, don’t you?” “correct.” “would you– would you like one?” “i see no need to it. but if you want i could search for the most popular names of the past year. in the u.s the first then results are–” “no no– it’s– okay, really. it’s fine like this.” what did you expect? for him to act like a human all of a sudden? to give himself a name in his own volition? to care for you because he wants to and not because he’s programmed to? what? where did this thought come from? you don’t need pity from an android.

7. july – 2037 it’s scorching. it’s the heat of the summer. work is hardly bearable. you have to admit, speaking to him it’s a lot less difficult. you’ve been together for five months now. he’s an okay guy. yeah, he won’t say much unless you directly ask him but he’s okay. he also started to take more liberties with you. like reprimanding you if you’re not sleeping by 10AM. or inciting you about going out with people. is he being friendly? you doubt it. but you let him do his things. it’s nice. it’s nice like this. it’s nice to pretend to have someone to care for you. it’s fine, you keep saying that to yourself. it’s fine to dream once in a while. it’s fine. “aren’t you bothered by how hot it is? like, you don’t overheat or something?” “my model was built with better tolerance to higher and lower temperatures than humans.” “mhh. right.” you ponder for some seconds “new clothes!” the perplexed look on his face makes you laugh. which is.... which is....? what it is? is it odd? is it odd for you to feel.... happy? is it odd for you to feel at all? when was the last time you smiled? the trip to the nearest shopping mall is quiet but you’re giddy with excitement. you need something new to wear, he does too. you’re sick of seeing him in the same old outfit. it’s stiff and ugly. he’s a lot more handsome with a white button-down shirt and black trousers. not that he isn’t normally gorgeous but– normally? you’re lost in these thoughts as you’re swiping your card in the meantime. he is beautiful. was he always so beautiful? you’re being childish.

8. august – 2037 you sigh. how many years have passed since you had a day off? you lost count. you’d like to see the ocean. you’d like to see the countryside. you’d like to be up in the mountains with your friends and a white cup of hot chocolate in your palms. summer is ending. you don’t even have time to feel heavy-hearted about it. in the weekend you ask him to buy you a bottle of beer. he curls his mouth in disapproval but does as told. you close the french door that overlooks the fuming city above your tiny balcony. drinking in the complete quiet of your little world. is this the same as a vacation? around midnight he brings you a blanket and places it around your shoulders. you turn and look up to his tall figure. tired eyes with dark circles beneath, a cirrusly smile. “it’s very late.” “yeah.” “it would be ideal to go to bed as soon as possible.” “.... yeah.” silence. “is something on your mind, [name]?” “i guess.” “would you like to share it with me?” you frown. it’s not as if you have something to lose, right? “sit down.” “i can stand, androids don’t–” “sit down, i said.” he’s almost comical, so rigid in an unadorned wooden chair. he seems uneasy, a student taking an exam he didn’t study for. “do you know the meaning of the expression ‘being a zero’?” he nods “it is a metaphor to imply that someone’s value is nothing.” “exactly.” silence again. “is it how you feel, [name]?” your chest heave with exasperation “i don’t see how i can be something else.” he presses his lips, thinking. you shake your head. you’re about to go and bury yourself in your room “in the binary code....” he starts, hesitant “there are zeros and ones. but they’re both essential. together they can convey anything. were the former or the latter cease to exists the message would be lost. ” you pause, knuckles lingering on the frame of the window. your vision cast on the floor and your feet but you’re slightly smiling “then you’re my one?”

9. september – 2037 seven. seven months. seven months since you said goodbye to your finances. “blah blah blah, robot here robot there, you’re always mentioning it!” “come on, that’s not true.” you give hint of a half laugh. “but it is! what, someone’s got a little crush on their babysitter?” “he’s not my babysitter–” “he?” seven months since you said ‘hello’ to a big, sturdy android. seven months and you still don’t regret that. “do you need anything?” “no, thank you. i’m good.” yawning you stretch your arms. gosh, you’re really tired. you close your eyes, ready to rest. you don’t hear him lowering over your forehead and laying a soft kiss. “goodnight, then, [name].” you freeze until he turns out the light and closes your door. did he– did he just–? sleeping will be a problem if you don’t stop blushing. seven. seven months into this messy cohabitation.

10. october – 2037 you feel like you’re getting the hang of living, proper living. it’s not a chore anymore to get out of bed, to shower, to watch the red sunset while working through the last hours of your shift. even going to the supermarket it’s pleasant. you like to pick what to eat. yes, you don’t need to, he says, he’s perfectly capable of memorizing a list, if you were so compliant in doing one in the first place. you’re not going to tell him that it’s a lot more fun this way. ‘happy’ would be the best term to describe you these days. he noticed too. you never addressed what happened last month. but there was no need to. instead, you both started to hold hands without a spoken word. while you’re watching your favourites sitcoms. while you’re reading a paper book. while strolling in the park nearby. you might ask him to teach you how to cook. it will certainly be a disaster but you two would have a good laugh about it.

11. november – 2037 you close the car’s door with enough force to cause a dull thud. so loud it actually disturbs your already awful mood and makes you close your eyes in distress “breathe, [name]” you shift in your seat but do as you’re told nevertheless. you’re trembling, rage seeping through your clenched fists resting on your knees “[name], your stress levels—” crisp air escapes from your lungs in a big white puff, it’s the end of november after all “i know” you shut him up but suddenly regret it “i’m sorry– i didn’t mean to– i–” you inhale once more and bite your lower lip. no no no please no “fuck–” you manage to grit before placing your head on your legs, covering your face with weary hands. you’re crying again. it’s starting to become a habit: him adamant on getting you from work, you crying for a solid ten or fifteen minutes, him hugging you because ‘although crying is a valid form of venting when confronting stress, contact may help you relax, [name]’ and then going home. not driving is your favourite bit, though, as it would give you anxiety. weren’t you just getting better? where did you progress go? you beg him to sleep with you. he and his tender smile don’t complain. he holds you tightly the whole night.

12. december – 2037 it’s snowing. the loneliness and the wish to kill yourself of last year are nothing but a long gone bitter taste in your mouth. now you’re two in this cosy and warm apartment. he’s helping you decorating for the holidays. “i’m not going to be like them.” you say out of the blue. “them?” “my family.” you firmly state, it’s a promise. he can’t help but halt and hug you from behind “it’s okay, love. it’s okay.” you share a sweet kiss while the fireplace softly crackle. apparently, recovery is not linear.

23. november 12th – 2038

he is alive.

[09yards]

9 - The Art of Truly Caring (days gone by - nct au)

Donghyuck learns more about himself and the meaning of having a soulmate–an idea he hadn't entertained before.

-> As always this is available on ao3 which I prefer to use for formatting, you can find that link here

Please don’t ever become a stranger who’s laugh I could recognise anywhere

"I think you know why I'm here."

It wasn't a question, there wasn't any doubt in his voice. He knew Donghyuck was well aware what his reasoning for being there was. Donghyuck wasn't stupid, nor was he.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. Where's the fun in me answering right off the bat, Johnny ?”

Donghyuck took in his slightly disheveled appearance, giving him another once over before speaking again. "You better come inside, your mum would murder me if he knew you'd been sat out here in the cold and wet waiting for me," Donghyuck sighed, "Lord knows I don't need that on my conscience, nor do I feel like getting killed in my sleep any time in the next week."

Donghyuck's house was usually pretty eerie, it was always too quiet, no sibling's screaming at each other from across the hall, no clanging of pots and pans in the kitchen or the echo of the TV. Wildly different from his own home.

"I'm sorry to just show up like this but I didn't know what else to do."

"It's not a problem, what am I going to do anyway? Turn you away from my front door in this weather? I can be a bitch but I'm not heartless, Johnny.”

“I never said you were. I just wasn’t expecting you to actually let me inside, you seem to be shutting just about everyone out right now, both physically and metaphorically of course.”

Donghyuck shuffled around the kitchen, grabbing two mugs so he could make them some tea, it was the least he could do before he got berated for breaking Johnny’s brothers heart. Johnny just watched in a daze, trying to think through all the things he could say; neither Donghyuck nor Mark were aware of Johnny having witnessed heir argument, having watched as not just one, but two hearts shattered to pieces the moment Donghyuck had let out that first, strangled ‘I’m sorry’.

The two sat across from each other, in Donghyuck's far too clean and tidy living room to have even been lived in, hot chocolate's in hand and heating their only defense against the grim weather.

“Guess I like you too much to do that, plus you scare me slightly when you get into protective big brother mode.”

“You know protective big brother mode applies to you too, right? I’ve known  you longer than I’ve known Jisung, you’re just as much my brother as Jisungie or Mark.”

“But Mark or Jisung aren’t the ones who broke your little brothers heart. Or rather shattered it into oblivion and crushes all his hopes and dreams. I’m a horrible excuse for a human-being.”

“Don’t say that Hyuck, you can’t think its the be-all and end-all just because you don’t feel the same way about him, just because you don’t know how you feel or what you feel.”

Donghyuck ran his hands over his face and sighed, "Mark hates me Johnny, I didn't just break his heart - I clawed it out, stomped all over it and chucked it away like he meant nothing to me."

"He doesn't hate you, he could never hate you Haechannie."

Donghyuck scoffed, "And how would you know that?"

"Because that's the thing about soulmates. No one ever realises the true power of a soulmate until they find their own, even then it's practically impossible to explain. There isn't words to describe the pure devotion, that true love you feel, the way you'd do anything for them. Your soulmate isn't someone you give your life too, it's someone who completes you. Without them you'd smile a little less, cry a little more and be a little lonelier. They support you in life and you do the same, you work together, not alone. It's so beautiful. Whether they’re by your side, down the street, or the other side of the world–you’re connected."

"I still can't comprehend how much of a sap you've become."

It was Johnny's turn to scoff, "Come on, be serious with me here. It's just me and you, you know you can talk to me about anything. You don't have to talk about Mark or soulmates, you can talk about school, or applying to uni, or Red Velvet's latest comeback, you don't have to lie or fake anything to me. It’s me Donghyuck and I may not be your soulmate but I’m not going anywhere."

"Johnny, you don't have to do this. You don't have to act like you care... no one else does, not even my own parents. Save yourself the trouble and whatever obligation you feel to be here."

That was the thing about Donghyuck's parents, they just didn't really care. There was no 'I'm proud of you' when he brought his report home, or a genuine 'how was your day?'. The two lived and breathed their work and he would always be thankful for everything they had given him but he couldn't help the feeling of missing the attachment that the others around him had to their parents. He went home to an empty house, the place looked like something straight out of a catalog, not a shoe out of place. It didn't look lived in and it never felt like a home. He'd always spent more time at Mark's or Jaemin’s during his childhood especially, they were homes. Jaemin's always, without fail, smelt like home cooked food, it was warm and cozy with little traces of each member of the family filtering in to every room. Mark's on the other hand was arguably utter chaos , the usual smell of burnt food (Mark has been banned from the kitchen but that doesn't seem to stop him) or the vanilla scented candles his mother adores and insists on putting in every room no matter the weather.

If you asked Donghyuck to describe what a home felt like, whether he thought about it or not, he would inevitably end up describing the Lee's. There were pencil markings on the wall beside the inside of the office door, logging their heights every year since Johnny was four, his personal favourite is this past year when Jisung officially passed Mark in height - and yes, Mark is still bitter about it. Donghyuck likes the way he knows that the chips on the skirting board in the hallway and the dent in the wooden flooring is from when Johnny dropped a bottle of vodka at sixteen and it was his first experience witnessing someone use such colourful language. He likes the way he knows that the light on the fence at the bottom of the garden doesn't work because Jaemin had finally kicked a football into it one too many times and they still haven't gotten around to fixing it despite the fact it was almost five years ago. He liked the little nick nacks that had found their way onto any possible empty surface, random pictures of days out, school events and Polaroids of  evenings that are now slightly hazy in their memories but if the smiles on their faces are anything to go by it was enjoyable all the same.

Donghyuck liked the way Mark's bedroom screamed him the moment you walked in. Donghyuck's was plain and simple, aside from the pop art canvas print of Michael Jackson his mum had bought him to replace his 'ghastly' posters. Mark's room was filled with miscellaneous art and clutter he loved despite not having any meaning (it had meaning to him no matter how stupid- it always had meaning), from his giant poster of the periodic table (colour-coded and all), to the one of his favourite football team, the vintage band posters he'd put up to remind him of his dad, to ones of his favourite movies and video games. In all the years they've known each one another Donghyuck is pretty convinced he can count the number of times Marks bed has been made on one hand, his numerous blankets tossed haphazardly around. It was organised chaos, it made Hyuck feel safe and cosy, made him feel like he was home.

"You can't stop me from caring about you Donghyuck, that's not going to happen. I love you just like my brothers, you know that, you grew up just as much a part of the family as anyone else. You don't have to hide who you are Donghyuck, not to me."

"I don't know what to do, Johnny. I don't know where it all went wrong," Donghyuck's voice faltered, barely above a whisper. He let out a faint sob.

Johnny got up from his seat, wrapping his arms around the younger and pulling him into a tight hug as he let out sob after sob. Finally releasing all his built-up emotions.

"Shhh, don't worry Hyuck, I've got you okay. You're going to be just fine, I've got you."

It took a while but the younger had finally calmed down enough to speak again, hesitantly removing himself from Johnny's tight hold.

"So, what I got in between your sobs, Mark confessed but you haven't gotten your soulmate Mark so unless there's some sort of glitch, you and him aren't actually meant to be - wow, my whole life has been a lie if that's the case- and you think you may be 'kinda, sorta, maybe' gay?"

"Yeah that's about the most of it," Donghyuck huffed.

"Right. Honestly don't know where to start with unpacking all of that but you seem might need to talk your feelings out.”

“It feels like my whole life I’ve been told that Mark and I will end up being soulmates, no one ever thought we wouldn’t be. We just ignored it, kept living our lives as best friends and that let me ignore my feelings, ignore the fact that my parents would treat me the same as they did Taeyong if they knew I was gay, that I am gay.

I’ve grown up in a house that doesn’t believe you have to be with your soulmate, that doesn’t believe that there’s just one person out there for everyone. My parents not being with their soulmates made me think there wasn’t anything wrong with it, that people getting sick when they’re apart from their soulmate is some manufactured lie. I don’t know what to believe anymore. ”

“I watched my mum lose my dad Hyuck and whether it’s true or not, she wasn’t the same after. She wasn’t the same for a long time. That love she had for him had nowhere to go, it destroyed her. I don’t have anything against people who don’t date their soulmate, or people who go without ever so much as searching for them. I don’t think it's denying your soulmate that destroys you, it’s denying that love. Love is powerful and all-consuming and it makes you lose yourself for a little while but you always figure it out in the end. Whether you think Mark is your soulmate or not, if you truly care for him as something more than just your best friend, no one will stop you. Soulmates don’t resign you to loving one person.”

"I don't want to be with someone whose heart belongs to someone else. If Mark and I really aren’t soulmates, surely I’m just setting myself up for heartbreak? Just once, I want to be someone's first choice. I'm so sick of being second best all the time."

"Hyuck, you know that's not true. You know you're not second best, that's just stupid."

"Yes, I am. Sometimes it's subtle, like the way my parents finally let me enroll in dance classes or allowed me to dye my hair - but I realised that they were dealing with the fact Taeyong walked out by replacing him with me. I'm not really Mark's best friend, Renjun always will be, but we all know Mark would choose family above all else, you included. You and Ten defy all odds against your relationship because you truly believe in one another and the idea of soulmates. Chenle would find Jisung in every lifetime and Jaemin... Jaemin lives and breathes Renjun. Jaemin wouldn't let a soul so much as harm a hair on Renjun's head he is so in love with that boy. So, no Johnny, I'm not even second best, I'm a last resort to everyone, even my own parents."

Johnny paused, mouth opening and closing a of times while he tried to figure out what to say, "Your parents are really trying to replace him with you?"

"I don't know, it feels like they are. Sometimes they'll accidentally ask if he's coming home for tea or something equally mundane and the looks on their faces when they realise what they've just said... it's obvious they miss him but they won't do anything about it, they're too stubborn to care." Hyuck runs his hands over his face and lets out a deep breath,  "They only started letting me do all these things since Taeyong left. They couldn't stop him, he didn't listen, but I did and look where that got me. I'm a stranger in my own home and I have to hide who I really am. It’s like they hope that if they give me more freedom that I won’t turn out like Taeyong or ruin their little picture perfect family."

"I know you're angry right now, at me, at Mark, at your parents... at the world. But, I will always try my best to be there for you and if you need to get out of there please, please just come to ours. I can't stand that you still live there, you don't deserve to be in a place like that."

Johnny gave one of his heart-warming smiles, hugging Donghyuck again. “You are loved Haechannie, there are people who care about you, people who would risk the world for you and you just need to let yourself be open to the idea that someone can love you, for you. Don't be a stranger, stop hiding from the world and let yourself be you again. You didn't get the nickname Haechan for nothing.”

Johnny left after more hugs and tears, telling Donghyuck he’s loved, over and over again. Drilling it into him so he couldn’t forget, so he had no choice but to remember.

[minhoinator]

By My Side, A Hogwarts AU (18/75)

special treat - “Ugh...”

Minho glanced away from The Standard Book of Spells to look at Kibum for a second. He was digging around in Grandma’s latest care package, and Minho turned the page when he sighed again. “Something wrong?”

Kibum pulled out a pumpkin pastie with a frown, and Minho instantly frowned in return. “It’s the last one.”

master list // AO3 // AFF // first year - muggle-born, sorted, first day, homesick, hallowe’en, deck the halls, possibilities, belonging, exceedingly acceptable, return to king’s cross - second year - diagonally, taking flight, ten points, all that glitters, holly jolly, push and pull, shooting stars

@lockandminkey @minhosbowties @sapphicshawol @artfulkey @shinyexo  @posygal @bumkeyko @usuallydreamin @taespoon-of-sugar (if anyone else wants to be tagged in this, just let me know!)

* - * - *

“Ugh...”

Minho glanced away from The Standard Book of Spells to look at Kibum for a second. He was digging around in Grandma’s latest care package, and Minho turned the page when he sighed again. “Something wrong?”

Kibum pulled out a pumpkin pastie with a frown, and Minho instantly frowned in return. “It’s the last one.”

He leaned back against the wall of the closet, the tiny flames from the candles on the shelves wavering. Another long sigh and he split it in half, holding one part out to Minho. Reluctantly, Minho took it and Kibum licked the cinnamon glaze off his fingers before he started to eat his.

“Okay, so you said you were having problems with the spell today?”

Minho’s shoulders sunk and he flipped back a couple pages in his textbook. “Yeah, with the pronunciation.” He clenched his jaw when he found Alohomora on the page. They learned this last year, so why was he still having problems with it?

“S’okay,” Kibum said around his mouthful of pumpkin pastie. “Latin is hard.” Minho let out a huff of a laugh, and Kibum chuckled as he finished his half of the pastry. “So, Flitwick was explaining more about the history of Alohomora and its uses today. I was taking good notes if you weren’t able to follow it?”

“I’ve been doing better with Charms lately.”

Kibum beamed at him before he brought Minho’s textbook over between them. “Do you remember the wand movements?” Minho nodded and Kibum gestured to his backpack.

After a catastrophic ink spill last year, they both decided to not use quills when they were up in their study closet. Mom had bought him two packs of pens when they went shopping for school supplies, and now, that’s all they used. Kibum clicked the pen several times as he brought Minho’s textbook fully onto his lap. “Uh-low-huh-mor-uh,” he said slowly as he wrote out each syllable, passing the book back to Minho.

Minho squinted at the pronunciation guide. “A...loho...mora.”

“Yeah, you’ve got it! Do it again.”

“A-alohomora. Alohomora!”

“See? You remember it!” Minho stared at the pronunciation guide, hiding his small smile. “Were you able to follow when O’Neely was talking about yetis?”

“Mostly.”

“Hmm...okay.” Kibum turned, shuffling through his textbooks for his notes.

They studied for quite a while until Minho was struggling to keep his eyes open and Kibum was yawning more often than he was speaking. Eventually, they started to pack up their books and straighten up the little study closet. When Kibum scooted forward to grab one of his parchment scraps, Minho glanced over at the box Grandma had sent.

Was that her address written on the wrapping?

While he knew Kibum’s address, Minho still didn’t have it memorized. Plus, the polaroid with it written on the back was back home and hiding under his pillow. Kibum was still leaning forward, arranging his books in his arms, so Minho slipped behind him and grabbed the empty care package. He tucked it away in his backpack before Kibum even noticed.

Soon, they were on their way from the seventh floor to the basement. They parted ways at the corner, their tired goodnight’s echoing down the empty corridors.

Once Minho was in his dorm room, he rummaged around beneath his bed for the notebook he used to write letters to his parents.

“You’re writing a letter now?” Gilbert whispered as he crawled under his covers, and Minho nodded. “But it’s almost ligh -- “

Before he could even finish saying lights out, the lanterns posted around the room dimmed, their flames soaking back into their wicks. Minho felt around his nightstand for his wand, and once he found it, said Lumos before he ducked under his own covers to block the light so the others could sleep. He popped his wand sideways into his mouth, holding it there so he could have both his hands free.

After a couple of clicks of his pen, he started to write.

Dear Grandma,

Hi! It’s just Minho this time. I hope you’re having a nice day when you get this letter. The reason I’m writing is because I was wondering if you could send me your recipe for pumpkin pasties? They’re the best and I love them but Kibum loves them more. We ran out today and he was sad and I was thinking that it would be nice if I could learn how to make them because they make him really happy and some days are hard here at Hogwarts and you might not know about it right away and anyways I think he’d really like them.

If you don’t want to share the recipe that’s okay I understand.

Thanks and I love you!

Minho

P.S. This is a secret so please don’t tell Kibum

He took his wand out of his mouth and tapped it on his chin as he re-read the letter. “Sounds good to me.” Carefully, he tore the page out of the notebook and folded it into thirds. “Nox,” he said before he pulled the covers back, and set the letter and his wand on the nightstand.

“Night,” Gilbert whispered.

“Good night.” Minho curled in and nestled his head in his pillow. He stared at the silvery moonbeam cutting through the darkness until his eyelids grew heavy and he fell asleep.

The next morning, he woke quickly -- well, quicker than usual -- and was to and back from the owlery before breakfast started. His letter was well on its way to Grandma in the talons of Geum-nun. Hopefully, it would reach her by tomorrow.

Each day, when the owls would arrive, Minho would carefully watch for the arrival of his charcoal owl, but day after day after day, she didn’t appear.

Not until five days later.

A thick brown envelope plopped onto his plate of eggs and toast, and Minho thanked Geum-nun before she flew away. He tore into the letter, and skimmed the contents.

Dearest Minho,

You don’t know how happy I was to receive your letter! I am having a good day and your letter made it better still. I hope when Geum-nun returns that your day is also going well.

As for the recipe, of course I am happy to share. It’s sort of a family secret, but I think I can make an exception for you. Just be sure to read the instructions carefully! And if you need any help, don’t be afraid to write me. Or, you could even ask one of the kitchen elves. They’re very good at their job.

Good luck, my love! I’m sure you’ll do well with them.

Love,

Grandma

Minho smiled as he peeked into the envelope, seeing the card with the recipe.

“Is that from your parents?”

He jumped at the sound of Kibum’s voice and shoved the letter and envelope into his pocket. “What?”

Kibum’s brow furrowed as he chuckled. “The letter. Did your parents write to you?”

“Yes, uh...Minseok got first place at the science fair.”

Kibum squinted at him, his eyes darting down to his pocket for a second. “Ready to head to Transfiguration?”

“Yeah.”

Grandma’s letter and recipe seemed to burn a hole in Minho’s pocket during Transfiguration. All he wanted to do was pull it out and read it, but with Kibum right there...

He waited until Kibum disappeared behind the stairwell on his way up to Charms to pull the parchment out. As he skimmed the recipe, the furrow in his brow deepened.

This was going to be harder than he thought. Hopefully, Sookey would help him.

The rest of the day followed his usual routine -- class then lunch then classes again then practice with the team (even though the season was over, Tanner still wanted to keep their skills fresh in their minds) and finally going over today’s lessons with Kibum. Once they said their goodnights and Kibum was well on his way down the Slytherin corridor, Minho ducked down the hallway to the kitchen and let himself inside.

It was always eerie to be in the kitchen alone. Minho didn’t visit the kitchen often, and when he did there was usually a house elf or two to keep him company and point him in the right direction.

Out of all the Houses at Hogwarts, Hufflepuff had the unique right to enter the kitchen whenever they wished. When Rhys explained it last year, he mentioned an agreement between Helga Hufflepuff and the house elves that her students would always be allowed access, unless they disobeyed the house elves instructions. Her reasoning was that cooking was an important skill to have and that they should have the resources to do so. There were conditions, of course. The first was that they were to respect the rules of the house elves and help them if asked, and the second was to always clean up after themselves.

Many a Hufflepuff in Minho’s almost-two years at Hogwarts would go on a midnight snack run. Several would even sit at one of the magic tables and work on their homework. As for himself? He usually came to the kitchen to make hot cocoa after a stressful day.

Minho dug into his pocket, fishing out Grandma’s recipe as he walked over to the butcher block countertops. He heaved himself up onto the counter and smoothed the recipe out on his knee as he read through it again. He mumbled his way through the ingredients, pausing when he came to the instructions.

“Rub...the butter...into the flour mixture?” His forehead scrunched. “What does that even mean?” He skimmed the rest of the instructions for the dough and followed the tiny arrow to the margin where Grandma penned an aside.

Do be sure to chill the dough for at least an hour, dear. Often times, I will let it rest overnight.

“I guess I can just make the dough tonight?”

He set the recipe down on the counter before he walked over to the pantry. After a second of staring at the myriad ingredients, Minho walked back over to where he left the recipe and grabbed it.

“Flour, salt -- “ He grabbed them both off of the shelves, going up on his tiptoes to reach the can of salt. “Butter...” Minho rearranged the flour and salt in his arms as he reached for the tub of butter in the icebox. He set them down on the counter before he made his way to the sink, getting a cup of cold water.

Mom never really baked at home, and when she did, she never let Minho help. Well, one time she did. He had begged her to let him help with Dad’s birthday cake, but in the end, he had ended up accidentally burning the cake to an absolute crisp.

To say he was nervous about this was an understatement.

But, one thing working in his favor was that Kibum didn’t know. So he wasn’t expecting Minho to produce perfect pumpkin pasties by tomorrow. Or ever. He could take his time if he wanted to.

Which, he did.

Sighing, he started searching for a scale, and found one of the older ones that Professor Slughorn would use sometimes in Potions. At least he was somewhat familiar with that. Cradling the scale in one arm, Minho grabbed as many of the weights as he could hold and went back to where he had the ingredients. He placed a large bowl on one end and leveled it out on the other with the weights.

“Three hundred grams,” he said as he started spooning flour into the bowl. He watched the scale carefully, and once it leveled, he added the next set of weights and weighed out the salt. “Cube the butter?” Frowning, Minho looked around for a knife, but he wasn’t sure where the house elves kept them. Eventually, he shrugged and started tearing the butter into the bowl.

Once the block of butter was distributed, he stirred it around in the flour with his finger. “Rub the butter...” He picked up a chunk between his fingers, rubbing it into the flour. “Maybe?” Putting both hands into the bowl, he started rubbing them together, mixing the flour and the butter until it started coming together. He squeezed a bit in his hand and dropped the clump into the bowl.

“I...think that’s ready?”

When adding the water, do it a little bit at a time. You just need enough for the dough to come together. It should stick together but not be sticky.

He took the cup in one hand, stirring the flour mixture with the other as he started to pour the water. It was a slow process, probably slower than it needed to be, but eventually, the dough started -- maybe? -- looking right.

“Cover and chill for at least an hour. Uh...” He looked around for saran wrap, knowing full well that there would not be any at Hogwarts. “What spell did Sookey use?” After about ten minutes of searching, Minho found the spellbook and flipped through it, stopping after a couple of turns.

Use Segetenvis when you need to preserve leftovers until another time.

“What are the wand motions?” He scanned the page, finding none. “Swish and flick it is, then.” He grabbed his wand from his back pocket and pointed it at the ball of dough. “Segetenvis!”

A clear, slightly iridescent bubble shot out of his wand tip and enveloped the dough ball. There was a little whistle -- the last of the air escaping, he thought -- as the bubble sealed itself. He picked it up and carried it to the icebox, feeling somewhat proud of himself.

About five minutes later, he had cleaned up his mess and was on his way to his room. Just in time, too, as the lights dimmed as he was sliding into bed. His dormmates muttered their goodnights, and Minho smiled to himself, already imagining Kibum’s reaction to the pumpkin pasties.

“What are you so happy about?” Kibum asked as Minho sat down next to him after breakfast the next morning. He squinted in disbelief when Minho shrugged. “Does a girl like you or something?”

“What?” Minho’s smile faltered, looking over at Kibum. “What are you talking about?”

Kibum went back to his breakfast. “I don’t know. You’re just acting weird.”

“You always say I’m weird, though.” Minho smiled again when Kibum rolled his eyes to look at him. “I’m just happy.”

“That’s good.”

The bell rang, and they were off to Transfiguration.

The day passed by relatively smoothly, even though Minho felt like he might have failed his Potions quiz. At least it wasn’t the final. He hurried to the kitchen once he and Kibum were done studying for the night.

Once again, he found it empty. Minho smoothed his recipe on the countertop closest to the icebox and got right to work -- rolling out the dough as thin as he could. He had to stand up on his tiptoes to be able to roll it out, and his arms and legs were aching by the time he was satisfied.

Heaving a heavy sigh, he went off around the kitchen in search of a pan to bake the pumpkin pasties on. After quite a bit of shuffling and clanging, he found the pans he was looking for. He tucked them under his arm and hurried back to his counter, grabbing a porcelain bowl and a steak knife on his way.

He set the bowl down on the dough, tracing around the lip with the steak knife to make a practically perfect circle. He lifted the bowl, smiling to himself until he tried to lift the circle and transfer it to the pan.

It stuck.

Like, it was glued to the counter. He peeled it up, but it tore in several places. Crumpling up his failed first attempt, he tried again, only to have it happen. Again and again. Frowning, he pulled the recipe closer to him with dough-caked fingers and read it over again.

“Oh...flour first.”

Minho scraped up the dough as best he could, using the back of the blade for the particularly stuck spots. Once he got the flour, he dusted it over the surface and rolled it out again. He lifted the edge to make sure it didn’t stick and heaved a relieved sigh when it didn’t. He cut and transferred the circles to the pan, smoothing the little holes that appeared when he moved them.

“I guess I can make the filling now.”

It took longer than Minho would have liked to find all the ingredients for the filling, as it was dimly lit and the labels of the spices were hard for him to read. Once he had weighed and mixed them all, he plopped heaping spoonfuls on each circle of dough and folded them over, pressing his fingertip along the edge, like the recipe said.

He proudly carried both pans over to the oven, setting one down to open the door. The oven, Minho remembered Sookey mentioning, was cantankerous and was always preheated because the house elves did not have the patience to try to coax it to heat up every morning. He slid both pans into the oven and closed the door.

Instead of going to sit and wait, Minho stood in front of the oven, watching the pasties back through the yellowed glass of the window. The dough puffed up slightly, hopefully turning a nice golden brown.

As they continued to bake, however, his shoulders sunk. He watched the filling leak out through the seam and the cracks in the dough. It bubbled and pooled around the pasties until he was sure there was none left inside.

Minho grabbed the nearest towel and pulled the pans out of the oven, tossing the failed pasties into the nearest trash bin. He cleaned up his mess within ten minutes and was on his way to his room, Grandma’s recipe crumpled in his fist.

It was several days before he tried again.

This time, he told Kibum he wasn’t feeling well and that he couldn’t study that night. Kibum said he wasn’t feeling well either, and it would be good for them to get some extra rest. When Kibum was out of sight, Minho rushed to the kitchen, catching the house elves as they were cleaning up. Sookey waved to him, and he waved right back before he went over to the “Hufflepuff” table. He leaned against the edge while he waited.

There came a series of snaps and pops behind him, and Minho turned to find that Sookey was the only elf who remained, and she was standing on the table. “What can Sookey do for you, sir?”

She sat on the table beside Minho when he pulled out the recipe, she read it through twice, making comments as she did, and teleported back over to the kitchen. Minho jogged over to meet her as she was bringing all the necessary ingredients over to the counter. He rolled up his sleeves and started mixing the flour once she weighed everything. He followed every word she said, feeling much better about the finished dough once it was safe in the icebox.

“Now, while the dough chills, we’ll start on the filling.”

She showed him how to mix the filling thoroughly, which, he was pleased that he had gotten right the first time. While they waited for the dough to be ready, Sookey explained more about the process. Ah, he saw where he went wrong before. He didn’t seal the pasties properly and that’s why the filling leaked everywhere.

When the dough was ready, it didn’t take long for them to get the pasties in the oven and baking. Sookey had directed him to seal and brush them in what was called an egg wash, and they seemed to be browning up nicely. Once Minho could distinctly smell the pumpkin, Sookey directed him to pull the pans out of the oven and let them cool.

“You can finish these off with the glaze tomorrow, sir, once they’re cool.”

“Thank you so much for your help, Sookey. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

She smiled as she bowed slightly. “It’s always a pleasure for Sookey to help you, sir.” With that, she winked out of the kitchen with just a flash of light and a quiet snap.

Minho stood still, waiting for her to reappear after a couple of seconds, as she was known to be forgetful. When she didn’t reappear, he hurried to clean up and grabbed a semi-cooled pastie on his way out. He hummed to himself as he ate it, happy that it tasted almost exactly like Grandma’s did.

Kibum would be so pleased.

The next morning, Minho was very distracted at breakfast, as he was constantly checking to see if Kibum had arrived yet. He hadn’t, not even by the end of breakfast, so he found Aaron when they were on their way to Transfiguration and pulled him aside.

“Where’s Kibum?”

“Oh, that’s what I was forgetting!” Aaron slipped inside the classroom and Minho followed on his heels. “Sorry, he’s sick!”

“Sick?” Oh, right, he had mentioned not feeling well last night.

“It’s nothing serious. Just a cold, I think.” Minho sunk into his seat, hugging his backpack before he set it in Kibum’s usual spot. “He’ll be okay.”

“Yeah.”

In between taking diligent notes to share with Kibum later, Minho kept checking the clock on the side of the room and had his books packed up five minutes early. Once the bell rang, he was out the door and running to the kitchen. The house elves all stopped what they were doing as he ran inside. He stuffed as many pasties into his robe pocket as he could and was out the door as quick as he came and was on his way to the infirmary.

He skidded to a stop inside, startling Madam Pomfrey and Kibum, who was tucked into the third bed on the left.

“Do you need more aereveli leaves, dear?” Pomfrey asked as Minho started walking toward Kibum’s bed.

“No, thank you. My head is feeling much better now.”

Kibum sniffled and wiped his nose with one of Pomfrey’s handkerchiefs as Minho sat down on the side of his bed. “What are you doing here?”

“Heard you were sick.” Minho glanced over his shoulder; Pomfrey was busy tending to one of the other students. Slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pumpkin pastie. “I made you these last night.”

“You did?” His eyes were wide as Minho pushed it into his hands and reached for another one.

“Yeah. Grandma gave me the recipe.”

“She -- “ Kibum took a small bite of it as Minho placed another two beside him on the bed. “You did a really good job!”

Minho grabbed the last one out of his pocket when Kibum took another bite and set it beside the others. He brushed the flakes of the crust off on his trousers and looked down at the pasties. “Oh no! I forgot the glaze!”

“It’s okay, Choi, don’t worry. These are...they’re perfect, thank you.”

Minho beamed at him, relaxing as Kibum took another bite, only for the bell to ring a second later. “Gotta go! I’ll take good notes for you, okay!”

“Okay!”

* - * - *

“Sit up for me?”

Kibum rubbed his bleary eyes and pushed himself up, holding back the hair on his forehead as Madam Pomfrey checked his temperature.

“Feeling any better?” 

“Mm, a little.” 

Pomfrey went over to her cabinet of potions and poured one of them into a teaspoon. “Take this and go back to sleep. You should be right as rain in the morning.”

“Okay.” 

She dimmed the lantern beside his bed and walked over to check on Charity Mills, who was quarantined for chicken pox. Kibum watched them for a second before he tucked himself back into bed. He slid his hand beneath his pillow, found one of the pasties Minho had brought him earlier and held onto it until he saw that Charity’s lantern was dimmed. Once the door clicked shut behind Madam Pomfrey, Kibum started to eat the pastie, sighing happily at the first bite.

Minho really had done a good job. It was slightly saltier than Kibum remembered, but that could be because of the lack of Grandma’s usual cinnamon glaze. It was just…so sweet – no pun intended – that Minho went out of his way to learn how to make them. 

Whatever made Minho want to learn how to bake and whatever possessed Grandma to relinquish one of her family-secret recipes, Kibum might never know. 

Whatever it was, he was very grateful.

[planetjeon]

hurricane | jungkook [pt.2]

part one masterlist

words: 2.6k genre: angst + a teensy bit of fluff at the end summary: as with the people wrongly convicted of crimes, you felt betrayed, hurt, anger, sadness, as the people you thought knew you, didn’t really at all.

a/n: if you've been following me for a while you'll know i absolutely suck at regular updates but i hope this will suffice as an apology for not updating in so fucking long :)

you weren't sure how long you'd sat on the cold floor of the dance studio after the boys left, trying to stop your tears from flowing and getting yourself to breathe normally again. you only got up when a staff member entered to call to you bang-pd's office.

the sense of foreboding that hung around you like a blanket didn't leave as you took a seat in front of bang-pd's desk. the man looked solemn, a change from his usual jolly face.

"i hear there's been some sort of.. trouble between you and the boys and jiyeon?" he asked.

you sighed. "with all due respect sir, i didn't have anything to do with jiyeon's injuries." that was all you managed to say. you were tired of trying to explain everything else.

bang-pd leaned forward over his desk, his hands clasped together in front of him as he himself let out a huge sigh.

"even if you did not inflict those bruises on her, right now, you are the main issue that's preventing the whole thing from being resolved." he paused, pursing his lips together as if he was about to regret his next words. "i'm afraid i'm going to have to ask you to leave your position at the company. i won't have the boys so caught up in this issue when they could be spending their time more wisely." 

you felt your face drain of blood and the lump you'd tried to hard to suppress pushed at your throat. you wanted to laugh, maniacally. you wanted to burst out crying. you wanted to yell out to claim your innocence. 

but instead, all you did was nod, and hang your head. "thank you." you said simply. "m-may i go now?"

bang-pd lifted his hand to gesture to the door and you stood up, bowing as best as you could while pushing all your emotions down, and left the room.

you maintained your poker face as you walked past the few bighit staff you'd known in all the years you'd been at the company on the way to the elevator. you daren't look up, for fear of seeing looks of disgust towards the girl they thought beat up their dear jiyeon, or looks of pity towards the girl who just had a solo sitdown with the big boss.

you took the elevator back down to the dance studio. the boys were back in it, practicing hard facing the mirror. jiyeon was nowhere to be seen. you took a deep breath before stepping in and walking as confidently as you could to your locker.

you could feel everyone's eyes on you but you focused on getting your locker open. the collage of polaroids and pictures of you and the boys stuck onto the inside of the locker door greeted you as you opened it. ignoring the smiling faces in the pictures depicting the much happier times, you grabbed your two extra set of clothes, sneakers, hair accessories and toiletries, piling them all into your arms.

when you were sure you'd cleared out everything inside the locker, you looked at the pictures on the door and in one swipe of your hand, grabbed and pulled all of them off, tossing them into the trashcan next to you. 

without another glance at the empty locker or anyone in the room, you held onto the rest of your things and walked out. your face and neck burned in embarrassment as you thought of what the others might be thinking. they must've known you'd gotten kicked out of the company, or you wouldn't have had to clear your locker.

the next few weeks were more stressful than ever. somehow, word got out to the fans that you'd beat up jiyeon and people made the assumption that the fight had to be over jungkook. all the 'fans' who'd been against you and jungkook in the first place finally had a real reason to hate on you.

the hate came twice as fast, twice as strong and you found yourself terrified to even leave the house in fear of meeting a fan crazy enough to physically hurt you. the few fans that had dared to come outside your apartment complex to yell insults at your door and spout horrible things about you to the neighbours walking past had proven that there were some people capable of it.

your best friend, seolhyun offered her place to you to take refuge in while she was out of town but you declined. the last thing you wanted was for fans to find her address and turn their rampage on her instead.

you were a wreck. you daren't leave the house and you barely had any appetite - if at all - and you never managed to get much sleep either.

the thread holding onto your mental wellbeing finally snapped when the fans who hurled cuss words at your door turned to throwing eggs at it instead. the sound of the eggs cracking against your door and window were enough to break you down and you collapsed in the middle of your living room floor.

that was where your neighbour, a kind middle-aged lady found you. hours after you'd collapsed, she'd come home to see the eggs dripping down your door and knocked to check on you. when she didn't hear an answer, she decided to use the key you'd given her for emergencies to enter, meaning to leave some hot tea and food after she cleaned up your door and windows for you.

instead, she found you lying on the ground and called an ambulance immediately.

when you awoke, you found yourself lying in a hospital bed. the doctor came in to brief you on your situation. apparently, the stress from going wrong at once and your lack of proper meals took a huge toll on your body, causing you to collapse.

a few hours of rest later, jin walked into your ward, much to your surprise until you remembered that you'd put him down as your emergency contact as neither jungkook nor seolhyun were adults when you first had to fill in that information.

you were nervous about how he was going to treat you as you watched him get briefed by the doctor on your situation.

thankfully, the conversation was minimal as he helped you out of the bed and brought you to his car. on the car ride back to your apartment, he asked if you were alright. all you could do was nod.

when you got to your apartment building, he insisted on taking your things up for you. when you arrived to your door, you were shocked to see it clean of broken egg shells and raw egg. you realised why when you opened the door to see mrs kim from next door tidying up your living room, a pot of delicious-smelling soup on the stove.

"how are you feeling, dear?" she asked kindly after making sure you were seated on the couch. 

"i'm a lot better now, mrs kim, thank you. for everything." you gratefully accepted the cup of warn water she'd brought you.

"it's no problem at all. i've also called the cops on the people who have been saying nasty things about you outside and throwing the eggs at your door." she said.

"who's been throwing eggs at your door?" jin asked from the kitchen, where he'd been put in charge of stirring the soup mrs kim was making.

you were about to speak up to tell him it was nothing but mrs kim beat you to it. "oh you don't know? the girls who have been yelling horrible things and cuss words outside her door have also been throwing eggs! hooligans!" 

jin didn't answer, but you could tell he was mad. he waited till after mrs kim left to ask you more about it. "army?" he asked.

you shook your head. "it's just the same sasaeng fans who have been on my ass since jungkook and I were announced." 

he simply sighed in response while bringing a bowl of the soup to the couch for you. 

"thank you." you told him as he took a seat next to you on the couch. "you didn't have to do any of this for me. you didn't have to come to the hospital, or take me home, or just- any of this." you felt overwhelmed with emotion, and tears pricked at your eyes before you could push them back. you never thought you would see any of the boys again.

"i'm sorry for what happened. but i'm sure if you came back to apologise to jiyeon, the boys would forgive you. bang-pd would give you your job back." he suggested.

you didn't say anything, too tired to defend your name once again.

jin left after getting a blanket to drape over you after you fell asleep on the couch. he had to get back to the studio before any of the other boys wondered where he was. none of them knew he'd gone to get you from the hospital.

when he walked into the dance studio, he was shocked to see jiyeon sitting on the couch, the rest of the boys surrounding her. 

the girl was crying and there were two new bruises on her arms.

jimin was the first one to notice he'd walked in. "hyung, (y/n) she.. she beat jiyeon up again."

jin stood still as realisation dawned on him. taking 3 steps forward towards jiyeon, he found himself shaking with rage. "you!" he pointed an accusing finger at the girl who'd managed to make herself look so convincingly small, like a victim.

"what the fuck have you done?" he yelled. 

"hyung! what's going on?" hoseok asked.

"(y/n) didn't do this. she didn't do any of this." he gestured to the bruises that painted jiyeon's body.

"hyung, yes she did. you saw what happened the last time she-"

jin cut namjoon off before he could continue. "no, she didn't do it the last time, and she didn't do it this time either. a-and she tried to tell us, but we didn't believe her.." 

"what are you saying, hyung?" taehyung asked.

"i was just with (y/n). i went to get her from the hospital. she fainted from stress. from all of this. she was at the hospital the entire day, then i brought her home and stayed with her until she fell asleep. she didn't do any of this, jiyeon is making it up!"

his last five words shook the whole room. the boys were frozen. jiyeon got up. "oppa, she did this to me yesterday. she came at me and just started hitting me and yelling at me and-" 

"that's enough, jiyeon!" this time it wasn't jin who yelled. jiyeon turned her head to yoongi who was seated on the couch. "get out." he said, his voice dripping with venom. 

jiyeon's face crumpled professionally, tears rolling down her cheeks. "yo-you don't believe me? look what she's doing, (y/n) beat me up and now she's turning all of you against me!" 

"i said, get out, jiyeon. no one here believes a word you say. not anymore." yoongi got up and walked to the door, holding it open for her.

when jiyeon still refused to move, sejin entered from where he'd been listening outside the door and picked her up by her arms and carried her out kicking and screaming to be let go.

yoongi shut the door behind them and it was just left with the 7 boys in the room.

"hyung, did we- did we do that to (y/n)?" jimin asked. he was sitting on the floor, distraught at the newfound information.

the rest of the boys held their heads in shame at what they'd done to you.

jungkook, who'd been silent throughout the entire thing, finally spoke up. "is she okay?" he asked jin.

jin looked at the youngest in pity, he knew just how much jungkook would be beating himself up for this, for going against his girlfriend. "she'll be better once we all go over to apologise." 

jin knocked on your door instead of using the key mrs kim had given him to ensure he would be able to go over to check on you in case anything else happened because he knew it would've been too much for all 7 of them to walk into your house.

you opened the door, hair disheveled from sleeping, eyes still tired from being woken up, the blanket he'd put over you draped over your shoulders. at the sight of all 7 boys standing in front of you, you were shocked awake.

"w-what's going on?" you asked.

"let us in to explain?" jin asked and you took a step aside to let the boys in. all of them shot you sheepish smiles of greeting, except jungkook, who avoided eye contact with you completely.

once everyone was seated around your couch, you looked to jin for an explanation but jimin and taehyung were the ones who spoke up to explain.

when they told you how jiyeon had tried to make it seem as if you'd hit her again, you felt your blood boil, but when they revealed that they'd found out she was lying this entire time, you wanted to cry. you were relieved your name was finally cleared and you were able to see your brothers again. 

jimin, the ever-so-touchy one, was the first to get up from his seat and give you a hug. the other boys followed suit and before you knew it, you were in the middle of the best group hug you'd ever had. glancing out from under namjoon's armpit, you could see jungkook still in his seat on the edge of the couch. 

as the boys released you one by one, taehyung was the last to let go. he wiped your tears from your cheeks and followed your gaze to jungkook. "alright, we should get going now, we'll come by for dinner tomorrow if that's okay?" 

you nodded, excited at the prospect of having everyone over again like the old times. almost. you thought as your gaze flitted over to your boyfriend who hadn't said a word or even acknowledged you since he came in. 

the boys got up and began to file out one by one. as jungkook made a move to get up off the couch, taehyung shoved him by the shoulders to make him sit. he jerked his head over to you and gave jungkook a reassuring squeeze on the shoulders.

the rest of the boys left and it was just you and jungkook in your living room.

the awkward tension was so thick you could cut through it with a knife. you didn't know what to say and you silently begged for him to break the silence.

"i'm so sorry." he said softly. his head still hung down in shame and you wanted nothing more than to go over to give him a comforting hug. so you did.

you planted yourself right next to him on the couch and wrapped your arms around his torso, squeezing it slightly. his arms moved around your waist and he pulled you closer onto his lap. 

nuzzling his nose into your neck, he breathed the apology three more times into your skin. 

"i should've known better. i should've trusted you." his voice sounded so broken, so upset with himself and you wanted to do anything to make him happy again.

pushing his chin up so you were face to face, you pressed your lips against his, shutting your eyes to relish in the familiar feeling. "you trust me now, don't you?" you asked him.

"i will always trust you now. i promise." he said breathlessly. 

you smiled at his words. "that's all that matters to me." you said, moving your arms to wrap around his neck, fingers playing with the hair at the back of his head.

your lips connected once again and you let out a huge sigh of relief. you were finally out of the hurricane.

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