#just me recording events. not me putting my heart down on paper so its not rlly the same

[nogchompa]

i bet it feels good as fuck to release emotions thru music. would luv 2 try it one day

[oraclekleo]

10 Non-Spiritual and Non-Magical Benefits of Tarot

Tarot card reading hobby has many benefits and can truly enrich your life on many levels.

It can improve and deepen your spiritual abilities, help you to communicate with the unseen, or it can allow you to indulge in divination practice. You can use tarot in your magical rituals, for your spells and, if you fancy, to summon the devil. Joking... maybe. Tarot is a pretty universal tool as you see but that's all it is. It's a tool. It's not evil, it's not good, its character depends on the person who uses it.

And as a tool, tarot can be used by a variety of people. Are you not interested in spiritual topics, other realms, communicating with guides or angels, and magic? Are you more of a scientist and atheist type of person? Do you think tarot has no use for you?

I'm here to tell you about 10 beneficial uses of tarot that have nothing to do with magic or spirituality. It's simply to show that even pragmatics to the bone can use and enjoy tarot.

10 Non-Spiritual and Non-Magical Benefits of Tarot

1) Meditation

It has been proven number of times that meditation has tremendous benefits for your health such as:

Gaining a new perspective on stressful situations

Building skills to manage your stress

Increasing self-awareness

Focusing on the present

Reducing negative emotions

Increasing imagination and creativity

Increasing patience and tolerance

Lowering resting heart rate

Lowering resting blood pressure

Improving sleep quality

Some studies also suggest that meditation can help with medical condition symptoms like:

Anxiety

Asthma

Cancer

Chronic pain

Depression

Heart disease

High blood pressure

Irritable bowel syndrome

Sleep problems

Tension headaches

(Source)

If you're like me, you can't just sit down and focus on breathing and emptying your mind. It feels like I am wasting time. Rationally I know it's not true but I have tried to meditate multiple times and it wasn't a success. However, there are many different ways you can 'meditate'. Some people achieve the same peace of mind while doing yoga, some read poems and then spend several minutes reflecting on them which has the same effect like meditation. I have achieved this sort of calmness through reading tarot cards. Every day I get up, stretch a little and then I do the daily pull of a card. I usually pull from 3 decks (tarot and oracle ones), note the cards down in my tarot journal, read the meanings in the guidebook (if there's any) and then study the imagery of the cards and reflect on their meanings. It doesn't feel like a waste of time because my mind is actually doing something, exploring and investigating the card. At the same time it's 10 minutes every day, I have for myself, my breath deepens automatically while examining the cards. It's just like meditation.

If you can't make yourself sit still and focus on breathing every day, tarot can be a good alternative. Examining the imagery is simple, you don't need any magical rituals, you don't need your spirit guides to accompany you.

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2) Journal prompt

Journaling is a popular way to record your thoughts regularly. Sometimes you have many things to write about and it's so easy to put your thoughts on paper (or screen). However, not always you feel that kind of drive, sometimes you might struggle to find the right words to express what you feel or think or what happened to you. And it can also happen if you don't want to directly describe the events or emotions (they can be still too raw or hurtful).

When, for whatever reason, you struggle to journal, you can use tarot as a prompt. Simply pull a card and journal record your thoughts that come to your mind observing the card. Maybe there's a specific symbol on it reminding you of something. Maybe the figure looks a bit like the person you know. Maybe some of the key words or meanings trigger long buried memories. You can draw a simplified picture of the card into your journal or only the symbols you find interesting.

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3) Art inspiration

Every artist needs a muse but sometimes those ladies are giving the artist a silent treatment. It can happen to anyone. Tarot cards with their rich imagery can easily serve as little inspiration whenever the muses grow quiet. You can pull multiple cards and combine the symbols in your art or you can read about their meanings and find inspiration there.

It's possible to use the meanings as artistic exercise as well. You can design your own card based on its meaning, with different imagery. Many decks are so beautiful they practically contain 78 little pieces of art. It's a little bit like a gallery in your drawer or pocket.

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4) Creative writing prompt

When you combine the previous two benefits, you get a creative writing prompt. There's nothing easier than pulling a few cards from your tarot deck and writing a story inspired by those cards. It can be used as literary exercise for creatives. The varied imagery can be very inspiring and you don't even need to know the meanings of the cards to sit down and write a story or a poem.

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5) Game play

Tarot is still a card game, even if it is a specific one. You can use the deck to play games of various kinds. Some tarot decks are especially made for this specific use.

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6) Chores and errands planning

We all need to be at least a little organised to be productive in life. Maybe you have a variety of planners, schedules, to-do lists to stay focused on what needs to be done. You can easily use the cards to represent specific activities, duties and errands then pull them and sort into your daily schedules in a more fun way. If you live with other people, they can pull cards to know what their duties will be in the following week. For example you associate Ace of Cups with dishwashing. Whoever will pull the Ace of Cups from the deck is going to wash the dishes in the following week. The Death card can symbolise taking out the trash and whoever pulls it, will handle that house chore. You get the idea.

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7) Psycho-Analysis

If you follow my blog for a longer time, you might have noticed that I don't use the tarot cards as much for magical purposes as I prefer to conduct psychological and behavioural analyses with them.

Even one of the fathers of modern psycho-analysis, C. G. Jung considered tarot to be useful in order to better connect with the more hidden sides of one's personality. Tarot cards use the universal language of symbols and archetypes and they can tackle and trigger issues we might tend to miss or avoid facing. Modern psycho-therapy acknowledges tarot as a self-therapy tool and it's a simple, easily accessible way to maintain and enhance mental well-being in the comfort of your home. Tarot can provide clues and clarity on your private issues, give you some peace of mind, give you a sense of order. There are no limits for tarot. You can simply spread the cards in front of you and what you see will mirror the state of your mind. That way you can better identify what's currently bothering you, give it a name and shape and work towards resolving the issue with a clear plan.

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8) Meaning of dreams

It's tightly connected with the previous piece. Dreams are our brain's way to deal with unresolved issues or how to process information it gathered through the day. Many times we don't remember a single thing we dreamt about after we wake up, it's not necessary because what needed to be processed was processed. However, sometimes the dream stays with us till sunrise and we can clearly recall detailed aspects of it. And it can be bothersome as dreams don't always make sense at first glance. Tarot can help with that as well. The imagery and meanings can give clues towards understanding what the issue your mind was trying to process was about. And it's still not magic. You will automatically notice the symbols and metaphors and parallels associated with your dream and whatever issue or problem it was dealing with. The cards will give you clues, road signs if you want, to navigate through your dream and your subconscious mind and you probably will be able to tell what was it that triggered it. (Please, if you believe that dreams are messages sent by higher powers, your guides or spirits, it's perfectly fine and in that case you can use tarot to decipher those messages but this post is about the non-magical and non-spiritual uses of tarot. Thank you for understanding.)

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9) Affirmations

It has been proven that making affirmations can help us achieve our goals or feel better or simply start the day on a positive note. If you're not good at making up affirmations for yourself you can either use the many sources online or you can use tarot cards. Pulling a card daily and reciting a positive message associated with it to yourself can help you to set the right mood for the day. You can pull more than one card and create more complex and personally meaningful affirmations for yourself. Once again, there are no limits to your creativity.

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10) Whatever comes to your mind, really

I'm going to cheat here a little bit. :-)

I have mentioned it multiple times in the previous points but tarot is really universal and super versatile. There are no limits to your creativity. There's no wrong way of using tarot. Do you want to use it for scrapbooking? Sure! Do you want to hide cards around the house or garden and let teams search for them like if it was an Easter Egg hunt (for higher difficulty set a rule that one person can only collect a suit of Wands, another one suit of Swords, etc.)? Go for it! There are even tarot cards made of plastic so you don't have to worry about them being damaged by water, mud and whatever substance. There are countless designs of the decks, so you can pick the one that you like the best. Nobody says you should have a classic Rider-Waite-Smith deck. You can enjoy animal, horror, sci-fi, romance, literature themed decks.

Be creative and have fun!

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Closure:

As you see, you can use tarot cards for many activities and purposes. Not all of them are magical, some can be pretty pragmatic and based in science.

What are the unusual things you use tarot for? Do you have any tips for the rest of us?

Please understand that this post is based on my personal opinion and you are free to disagree with me. I’m in no way telling you to use tarot in the way I have described, I simply presented some options to you and your individual way regarding tarot is utterly in your hands.

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Thank you for reading!

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[eddiemania]

A Hard Worker! e. munson

Description: Eddie feels jealous, so he fucks his best friend on top of the car he's fixing.

Warnings: mechanic eddie, dom!eddie, cheerleader!reader, oral sex, spanking, PiV, doggystyle, protective!eddie, degrading/praising.

You felt your feet throbbing the more steps you took. Returning from afternoon cheer practice was always harder than mornings. Carrying the entire day's tiredness, you had to get dressed, arrive at school, practice, and then, with painful limbs, walk back home.

Today's practice, though, was quite surprising.

As you paced, your mind wandered around the events that had taken place. Chance Peterson passed down a message to you through Linda Richards about his feelings as well as a sealed letter, which the girl delivered to you with a smirk on her face.

You were informed that it hadn't been opened by her or anyone else, but chances were she knew about what it contained since her boyfriend was best friends with the jock himself.

You kept on walking, holding it in your grip before the sign you were looking for eventually appeared in your eyesight.

"Thatcher Tires"

It was 9pm. The sun had completely gone down and the only light on the street you found yourself in was occasionally flickering. You tightly gripped the garage door before sliding it, revealing Eddie's half-worn overall, and half of his tank top-clothed torso covered in greases and stains.

Iron Maiden was blasting on the speakers, making Eddie unable to hear you enter. You swore this boy would get murdered one day.

He was the only one inside the store, and since his boss was missing, he had stayed overtime for whatever reason. Maybe he was too interested in the car he was working on or had gotten into an argument with his uncle back home, but either way, you were glad you did not walk here all the way for nothing.

Your friendship with Eddie wasn't considered weird or confusing to the surrounding people until high school. By the time you were a freshman, he was already a senior. It didn't take long until you became well-liked and even quite popular.

Everyone liked you. You were kind, polite and sweet so when everyone saw how close you were with your best friend who, while you were in middle school, had created a pretty scandalous impression, they assumed the worst for him and even tried talking you out of spending time with him.

Eventually, you had reached your senior year, which he had failed twice due to his low grades despite you trying to help him out of his D's and C's.

You walked towards the black Mercedes he was under, placing a paper bag of food on its hood before making your way to the speakers, turning the record off.

Eddie immediately wiggled out of his position, his hand over his heart as he panted, "Jesus!" he groaned, causing you to lightly smile, "Did I scare you, poor thing?" you innocently glanced at him, "Spare me."

He looked at the hood of the car, sending a glare at you, "You're not allowed to place stuff up here, y/n" you rolled your eyes at his words, approaching him, "You should be thankful I walked after practice just to bring my best friend something to eat," you punched his arm.

"Righ blessing us with your appearance after going M.I.A for a week," he scoffed, opening the bag, "I'm sorry, but you know we're preparing for the match this weekend." you sat next to him.

You did feel slightly bad because you knew he was right.

"Why did you stay overtime?" you questioned, stroking the boy's hair before putting them in a bun as he unwrapped his burger. Eddie always relaxed when you touched his hair, leaning against your hands. "I had nothing better to do." he took a bite.

"Plus, it's a nice car, isn't it?" he glanced at the vehicle with admiration. Ever since he was little, he fancied expensive and nice-looking rides. You hummed in agreement, watching his bangs slightly sticking on his glistening forehead as he ate.

"What's this?" he asked, his gaze traveling down on the envelope you had inside your grip. You glanced down, shaking your head with an awkward smile. "Nothing important."

His eyes narrowed, yet he said nothing to you, "Just... foolish boys," you pressed your lips into a thin line, striding around the garage in your cheer uniform.

"Ah, did you get a love letter, sweetheart?" he spoke with fake awe, before throwing away the wraper in his hands. You nodded in response, making your way to him.

"What does it say?" Eddie asked, but you simply shrugged, "You haven't opened it yet?" he questioned, "No,"

"What are you waiting for?" he encouraged, placing some of his tools inside a box next to the car. You gave the envelope another glance before carefully opening it, taking the letter it contained out.

You began reading it, Eddie's eyes fixated on you, but once the words on it sunk in, your eyes had gone wide, your cheeks beginning to heat up. "What? What's wrong?" the curlyhead asked, getting no reply from you.

"Sweetheart?" he called again, this time approaching you before his hand attempted to take the paper. You quickly shifted away, making him look at you with confusion, "y/n," he chased after you as you quickly paced away, taking your waist in his hands before slamming your back on his chest, "Eddie no!" you tried to escape his grip in vain before the boy successfully took the letter.

"You are so stunning. I'm losing my mind every time I come across you at school," he read out, your fighting not preventing him the slightest from continuing, "You make me feel like a fucking pervert whenever I touch myself to the thoughts of your beautiful body in my hands," he paused for a second, visible disturbance in his eyes, "Eddie!"

"I want you to be mine. I want to touch every single part of you. Meet me at the benches at eleven o'clock tomorrow, Chance."

He expressionlessly folded the paper, about to place it beside him when you reached to grab it out of his hand. "I told you to stop!" you glared at him. "So what are you going to do?" he avoided your eyes with a stiff look on his.

"What?"

"Will you meet him? Your jock friend, who wants to touch your beautiful body?" he moved his head to the direction of the letter, his hands crossed over his chest, "Maybe I will," you were unsure about this, you just wanted to piss him off and cut the protective act he always tried to sell you.

"Let me guess... Your other princess friends encouraged you? Hm?" you rolled your eyes at his choice of words, walking close to him, "If I want to meet him, I won't listen to them, or you," you looked up, defending yourself, but he only chuckled.

"So defensive, and for what? A fucking brainless douchebag who just wants to take your panties off?" you raised your eyebrows, slightly pushing him, "Because that's why a dude would only approach me right? To fuck me." you gritted your teeth.

"I didn't say that," he did not break eye contact once, his head moving closer to you, "You know damn well what kind of guy Chance Peterson is and what he has said about me, you just want to act all defensive because you're pissed that I'm looking after you," he spoke.

"Whether I decide to go out with him, I know what he wants. You're not my dad to tell me what you feel about anyone that is interested in me, Eddie!"

"Oh, so you just want to get fucked, don't you?"

Your eyes widened before your palm met the skin of his face, slapping him out of frustration, immediately bringing your hands in front of your mouth after the realization hit you.

Eddie hissed, his palm patting the soreness on his face, "I'm so sorry Eds!" you touched his cheek with worry, your spare hand on his chest, "God, I'm so sorry!"

He did not respond, something that worried you even more than the redness on his face. "I don't want his hands anywhere near you," he clenched his jaw when your eyes locked contact with his. You frowned your brows, your hand letting go of his cheek, "You don't have to prote-"

"No,"

Before you could question him, he spoke. "I'm not-" he paused, hitting the table next to him when his hand reached your waist, pulling you closer for his lips to touch yours.

Your eyes remained open, surprise making you unable to move, "I'm just fucking pissed," his head moved next to yours, lips near your ear, "Pissed that someone like him wants to touch my little girl," he whispered, your cheeks heating up.

His little girl...

You would have never believed neither that such words would come out of his mouth nor that they would have such an effect on you. His arms remained on your waist, "I almost lost it when you told me Mark Peron took your virginity last year," he sighed, "I'm not proud about it, it's just..." his forehead was placed on your shoulder, "I wanted to be the one that-" he stopped himself, moving away from you.

You were finally able to look to his entire figure walking away, the sweet taste he had left on your lips making your fingers brush over them.

"Let's go, I'll drive you home," he said, grabbing his van keys off the floor before you ran and took them out of his hand, "You wanted to take my virginity?" you eyed him, but he avoided contact, "I just wanted to make sure it felt good," he mumbled.

"Oh, I should be thanking you then!" you smiled sarcastically making him shake his head, "Let's just go, y/n," he's about to slide the door but you stay behind.

"Thank you for fantasizing about jumping me Eddie! You're the best!" you slide the door back close, giving him a judging glare as you stood in front of him, "Don't look at me like that," he swallowed, "Why? Does it make your dick hard?" you scoffed.

"Yes,"

His hand took your wrist, minimizing the distance when he once again kissed you, but this time you did not hold back. Your hands were instantly wrapped around your best friend's neck, pulling him even closer before you found yourself pushed against the cold wall, his knee managing to make it's way between your soft thighs.

He kept restraining himself from shifting his hands lower to your ass, but a loud groan left his lips once you guided them there yourself, keeping yours over his, encouraging to squeeze you tightly.

You threw your head back in pleasure, giving him the perfect chance to kiss and bite your warm neck, "So you did just want to get fucked, hm?" he smiled against you, making you whine in pleasure, "Because deep down, my little girl always happened to be a secret little slut,"

You returned your lips on his, the skin of your belly feeling his hard cock against you, "Eds," you moaned, causing him to sigh deeply, "Just tell me yes and I'll take you right here if that's what you want." he spoke firmly, his hand beginning to play with your panties under your skirt, pulling the elastic and letting it snap back against your skin.

"Yes, ye-"

He forced his tongue inside your mouth, pushing you back inside the workplace before his hand reached beneath your thighs, the boy pulling you on him.

Quickly, you felt the quick movement of spinning before you found yourself laying face down on the cold surface of the freshly fixed Mercedes.

He stood between your spread legs, lifting your skirt slightly before a groan escaped his lips, "What an ass..." you whined, trying to support yourself on the hood.

"Next time we argue you won't act like a deprived little whore," he leaned down, "Got it?" his left hand tapped your back. You kept your mouth shut, slight curiosity keeping you from agreeing when a scream escaped your mouth, his hand harshly spanking your ass.

"Answer Ms. 'beautiful body'," he rubbed your freshly red flesh, "Got it," you bit your lip, slightly arching. You felt ashamed, but you wanted more. His dominance made your cunt ache, a wet stain becoming visible on your pink panties.

"You like that don't you? Having your best friend call you a slut, his slut. I just can't wait to see how well you take my fucking cock," another spank followed.

"Eddie," your feet found his thighs, pulling him closer. The boy lost his balance, slightly falling over you before chuckling. His lips began kissing your ass. He licked and kissed hungrily, unable to get enough of it.

"See baby, how could I let any asshole kiss my little girl's beautiful ass? I'm so selfish, I want it all to myself," he lifted the bottom of your panties, licking a good strand of your exposed pussy.

You moaned loudly, holding back from hitting the car's hood. You needed to grip onto something desperately.

Maybe he was right. You felt like such a slut letting Eddie do this to you but it felt so damn good.

Spanks came one after the other, your ass feeling sore and painful, "Eds please, it hurts so good," you whined, a satisfied smile on his lips.

"Get on all fours for me, my beautiful," he dragged you lower on the car by your thighs, "Please fuck me," you cried out arching like a cat in front of him.

His dick ached as he watched you in your tiny skirt. You looked adorable, offering all your body to him. The boy pulled your underwear on the side wiggling his tongue against your folds. "Tastes like heaven," he moaned against you, caressing your back.

You loudly groaned, taking your shirt and bra off with out his call. He obviously hadn't noticed...

He kissed and sucked your pussy, the absence of fabric on your soft back making him look up, eyes secretly widening. He didn't hesitate, immediately reaching to touch one of your tits before continuing to suck you off.

You placed your hand over his larger one as he massaged you. Eventually, he managed to put yours under his, palming your own chest with you.

"Eddie- feels' so damn good!" you cried.

"Cum. Cum on my face, please goddess," he groaned, sloppy sounds of him eating your cunt filling the entire garage.

"Give me your sweet cum, please baby," he practically whined, his hand lightly slapping your tit.

You couldn't help it anymore. You let it all out, your body started to shake yet his tongue remained attached to you, patiently waiting for your leaks to reach his mouth.

"Mm, good girl," he praised, caressing your ass.

"I thought..." you swallowed, trying to catch your breath, "I thought you weren't allowed to place anything on the hood," you sighed, listening to his soft chuckle, "Stuff on the hood can cause damage. Your naked body is a blessing." he bit you softly, making you giggle.

The metalhead didn't waste any time before gently lifting you to place you on your back, finally watching your blushed face.

"Who's my naughty little girl?" he spoke softly, caressing your cheek, "Me," you grinned, bitting your lower lip.

"I'm your..." your confidence died down when you realized the position you were in, and acknowledged the way he was staring into your eyes, "Yes?" he hummed.

"Your naughty girl..." you whispered shyly, avoiding his eyes, "Excatly. See how easy you learn things?" your knee brushed his erection, making the boy moan.

He pulled down his overalls, palming himself over his tight boxers to ease some of the pressure. You took the chance to sit up and carefully begin undressing him off his tank top.

His tattoos came in display in front of your face before you started placing sloppy kisses on his belly, "Beg," he made you look at him.

"Beg me to fuck you," he spoke with a baby voice to you, your eyes looking at him with desire, "Eddie, I need you," you kissed him, "I need you inside of me, please." you moaned, "Please baby," you formed a hickey under his tattoo, one that he visibly appreciated.

"Spread those thighs for me, goddess," he smiled, softly pushing them apart, "I haven't done this in a while Eds," you nervously spoke when his lips found your forehead, "I'll take good care of you, don't worry,"

His tip started, rubbing your wet entrance, making sure every inch of you was wet and ready for him. Eddie slapped his dick against you a couple of times before slowly and steadily pushing the head inside of you.

You moaned, feeling your body being lowered down back on the cars cold surface, your best friend's body coming down with you. His lips played with your neck, a few hickeys being left.

Your hands moved on the back of his head, releasing his hair from your hair tie before running your hands through them, "More?" he bit your jaw, "More." you breathed feeling his dick sliding all the way in, "Oh shit!"

He began thrusting inside of you, at first softly before his pace fastened up, the sounds of your skins contacting each other feeling the room, "Eddie!" you pulled his hair, earning a loud grunt from him, "Want to cum again don't you?" he huskily spoke, when you nodded.

"Cum you fucking cockslut," he whined, "Come around my dick," he went slow but hard, making sure you took every inch of him.

You cried out loudly, your nails digging his entire back as your legs wrapped around his waist, "Let's see if that little cunt, Chance, can pound you like this," he moaned, his face buried in your neck.

The knot in your stomach finally released, warm cum running down your legs. Eddie immediately pulled out, beginning to pump himself over your belly, "Can I?" he questioned, and you nodded when you felt him leaking on your skin.

"Ho- holy shit," he cried, kissing your thighs individually, a few minutes passing by in silence for you both to catch your breaths.

"We should get going," he then broke the comfortable silence, a smirk plastered on his stupid face, "What? Why?" you frowned, worried that someone was here, "You have a date tomorrow," he winked when you hit his back, a chuckle escaping his gorgeous lips.

[not-exactly-laborious]

Running From Time

I wrote a short fic and made this drawing based on it! If you want to read it, it's just below the cut.

Thanks to my friend @warnadudenexttime who gave me this prompt

CW: self-deprecation and dissociation

The big father clock in Roman's room struck eleven, and a miniature bird made of wood started to rock back and forth with the sweet and mechanical sound of its song. Roman snapped out of his deep thoughts noticing the passage of time, he was so immersed in making a die pouch since he found his old dice collection underneath his bed when trying to clean his room, because of the spilled spaghetti on his bed after making said spaghetti with Gatorade when he decided to improve an old recipe book he found in one of the kitchen cabinets while looking for a snack. It wasn't the first time today he became sidetracked with meaningless tasks, he was supposed to be writing Thomas' next skit, and look at him now? He dropped his needle on the floor and looked at the clock still not comprehending how much time has gone by. He was so determined, but the moment he sat at his desk, pen in hand, he couldn't do it.

Roman got up from the floor and walked over to his desk carefully not to step on any of his dice. It was messy with dry paint, markers, and broken crayons, with no regard, everything was thrown on the floor with one big swoop, except a piece of paper and one of his favorite pens, a red one in the shape of a beautiful feather decorated with sparkles. With a fixed posture, he looked down at the paper like an old enemy, cracked his fingers, and started to write. He wrote and wrote for what felt like hours, his hand was cramped, his eyes hurt from all the concentration, he was sweating from the emotions and the power of creation, it was now or never, and Roman knew full well the best work he ever made was always done at the last minute. His heart jumped as he took the pen from the paper. He looked at what he wrote, his masterpiece. It was a very fancy and incredibly well done "THE" with the rest of the page blank. Very disappointing.

Thomas came to him directly with a request, he had been struggling for a couple of days to come up with ideas and thought asking roman would help the situation. It seemed so important that Logan himself had to make a deadline in his calendar to schedule the recording, Roman had only a few keywords and props to make the best idea he could, which was easy, except he couldn't create anything good or create anything at all. Roman felt a sharp pain down on his stomach with the pressure put upon himself, today was the deadline, and he was so confident he could do it on time. He side-eyed the clock slightly afraid of what it would reveal. He wanted to believe he had time, he could still do it, he had done it before, why was it hard now? It was midnight, he had nothing done.

Roman was almost sure a knock came from his door, and the first thought was Logan. Even though the logical side didn't seem very concerned about any other side's privacy when he needed something ━ summoning himself in the room without asking ━ he was sure it was Logan at the door looking for what he wrote, so he could approve and plan the next part of the production, so what should he say? That he had nothing? That he required more time? That he failed to do something so simple and basic? He could hear Logan's snarky remarks, and his disapproving face reminding him of how much time he had and how irresponsible he was, Logan would have to reorganize his calendar and reschedule the shooting all because Roman couldn't write. He could feel his door getting closer to him like an optical illusion, closing in as his thoughts became more self-deprecating.

The scenario played in his head, tomorrow morning Thomas would ask for the skit fully trusting Roman with the task he gave him, with his big puppy eyes that reminded him of Patton, sweet and innocent turned bitter in Roman's mind with the past events looking at him expectantly, excited to hear what great idea he had to tell, which was once something he looked forward to now made him anxious, drowsy and weak in the knees. He had to tell him the truth and ruin his smile but what would come next was what terrified him. It was not just the door, but his entire room, coming closer with every tick of the clock, crushing furniture but making no noise. His fixed gaze on nowhere prohibited him from noticing his surroundings, locking him in a state of derealization.

What if Thomas was already expecting him to fail? What if he had a second plan prepared because he knew Roman wouldn't be capable of writing anything good? What if Thomas didn't need him anymore? Maybe it was for the best if he couldn't do something as simple as writing a skit. Maybe Thomas deserved better than whatever measly idea Roman had to offer anyway. Maybe, just maybe, he didn't deserve to be his hero after all, well, not that he was, to begin with. He felt small and scared like an animal cornered against a wall, which so happened to be true because his room became so small he was trapped in a box. He was stuck in some sort of fetal position with no room to move, he could feel the pain in his neck for having his head at such an uncomfortable angle with no way of stretching. Roman pressed with all his strength against the walls, trying to free himself, but they wouldn't budge. With the strong feeling of claustrophobia and an uneven breath, he closed his eyes.

Only now did he realize how bad things have gotten for him to end up in a situation like this. Roman had to get out of this creative box to think straight, but he had been avoiding it for so long, and now he couldn't ignore it anymore. This creative block was bound to happen any day now he was more than aware, but it came at the worst time imaginable, collapsing with roman's self-deprecating thoughts and snowballing with the helplessness of his situation. Roman felt out of control, frustrated, and incredibly exhausted. He took deep breaths and a yawn slipped out of his mouth, and his tense muscles gave in. The thoughts now were about how tired he was, tired of creating, tired of working, tired of feeling so much all the time. He would fall asleep any moment now, and the last thought he had was to let future Roman deal with whatever would happen tomorrow.

[jae-canikeepyou]

| into you | j.jh

pair: jaehyun x fem!reader

word count: 7.7k+

summary: as the uni campus’ social butterfly, it’s a given you have a lot of friends, invited to almost all gatherings and all adore you. for the latter, jaehyun does too. he’s so into you and likes how you’re his happy place. or; jaehyun— an unsocial, often misunderstood person, finds his behaviour different with you and perhaps wants to keep you for himself, not anyone else.

genre: fluff + elite!au

a/n: i’m back after a while since i’ve been so so busy! this is not proofread again and i’m sorry if there are any grammar mistakes down there :> this is not canon with “letting go” scenario in case there’s any similarities with the characters. hehe anyway i hope you all enjoy reading! ♡ ~j.

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seated at the front row in the amphitheatre-shaped lecture hall, jaehyun frustratingly put his hood back on to hide himself from those who were staring from all around. they were definitely whispering about him, hands by their lips to conceal their voices in case he heard them. he hated this much attention, all because he chose stay of out school and classes— and claimed that it didn’t interest him.

so did coming today.

but the point was his attendance for this class was on the line and his busybody parents were sick of receiving phone calls or mails that kept filling their boxes, all for the same reason; that their son could be expelled despite handing assignments.

he rolled his eyes at the heat creeping up his ears as the whispers grew louder. he slammed the thin granite table, causing everyone to flinch at the sound and his presence. “can i have some quiet?! i can hear you guys talking crap about me!” he turned around at the pairs of eyes, soon frozen like meerkats.

they ticked him off. he couldn’t stand being in the same room with people who repeatedly questioned his existence of being here. he knew that rumours were going around, that the ‘jeong jaehyun’ in high school got into an private elite university— it could be anywhere but never expected it‘d be this campus. it was written in the judgment of their faces.

“chill man,” a guy his age swung his lollipop with legs on the desk. “some are curious why you decided to show up today since first semester’s a week away from ending, while some even wonder why you got into such prestigious and elite university.”

jaehyun’s eyed him slowly from legs to head. “who are you supposed to be?” he snorted at the stranger.

“just a guy who wants to break the distraught you’re trying to start.” he kicked his legs off the desk and stood up on his suede shoes, showing off his pearly whites.

he looked at everyone whose eyes averted from the two of them. “our town’s a small neighbourhood, so everybody knows everybody. we know exactly who you are, jeong jaehyun.”

“excuse me?” he swirled his tongue that it was evident he was pissed. “careful what you accuse me of. you and i both know it’s not going to end well-”

“they’re near they’re near!” a voice echoed the hall, cutting jaehyun’s attempt to intimidate the young man any further.

and with that signal alone, jaehyun could see and observe ladies fixing their hair and make-up, while the guys gave fistbumps to those near them. he rolled his eyes at him returning the favour to them as the guy unbuttoned his collar. “what’s wrong with you?” jaehyun was utterly weirded out. “with everyone?”

the crimson-haired guy only gave a flirty grin with raised brows. “this happens everytime.“

the door swung open with the professor rushing in. the students swifted heads, it wasn’t the first time he ever was late. he was young and good-looking, and it was hard to believe he still a bachelor. he gestured someone at the door, then the held-in giggles and mumbles were soon replaced with whispers of awe, as you walked in carefully with a tower of binder folders halfly covering your view.

clearly the guys around him have been secretly admiring; some had the confidence of taking selfies even if you were far, while others took a picture with their eyes so you were marked in their memories. ladies flocked towards the flustered professor like little chicks and surrounded him.

and that’s when the comments started coming in.

“park seojoon is so hot.” “hey remember to use ‘professor’.” “i guess genes runs in the family.” “his sister is ethereal too.” “i see her weekly and y/n’s a goddess.” “y/n! are you coming to the party tonight?”

jaehyun knew who you were through social media and common friends. and he included himself part of the people who admire you. he also remembered because he bumped into you during orientation. he wouldn’t usually care about passerby’s and strangers and although that was a brief moment and short eye contact, something about you was hard to not forget. you had people and friends under a charming spell he couldn’t describe, and that was in a good way.

you tucked a strand behind your ear and became shy afterwards as they whistled and cheered towards your gesture, making you heat up a thousand degrees higher. you should be used to this but every time it happens, you were just as flustered as your brother.

jaehyun’s legs got up on its own and was surprised at himself for making his way to help you. he picked up the fallen binder files and scattered papers while the whiskers by your eyes creased up in shyness.

he hitched a breath realising that the clumsy you was adorable too.

“thank you.” a smile then appearing at the corners of your lips caused jaehyun to freeze for a while. yuta wouldn’t miss anyone’s reaction. he slid his chair close to jaehyun’s as the he came back, nudging his chair for him to give into your beauty.

“i know a person with heart eyes when i see one. now you understand why we’re whipped for y/n. isn’t she a babe- agh.” he held the back of his head from the smack.

“don’t call me that, nakamoto.” you hissed sharply with how confident and careless he could get, especially with people you weren’t familiar with. you looked at the guy in a black sweater and let out an embarrassed sigh. “i’m sorry about my annoying best friend. yuta tends to be chatty when he feels lonely.” you winked at him.

it was jaehyun’s turn to flash short chuckle, its faint sounds perked not only your ears, but yuta’s as well. “not a problem. i know a lonely person when i see one.” jaehyun emphasised through his gaze.

“i’m not lonely! i have y/n and my men!” he whined and turned towards you. “see what you did y/n?”

“it’s good to finally see you, jeong jaehyun.” you ignored yuta and brought out a hand for a greeting.

you pursed your lips to stifle a laugh, jaehyun’s ears quickly turned from pink to red. he gulped loudly and took your hand in his, eyebrows lifting at how you knew his name.

lost for words and you both locked eyes where he forgot to let your hands go. “we take the same course together? i know your name because you’re the only one missing from the class-” you said, shaking his hands to subtly let him know it had been a minute since your hands felt his vainey flesh.

“okay young lad that’s enough time holding my sister.” seojoon separated your hands and jaehyun snapped out of his admiration, inhaling quite stressfully with how stupid he looked. “get to your class y/n.”

“alright, i’ll see you at tea hour.” you waved at the boys.

“as long as you’re treating i’ll go.” yuta hummed in a monotonous voice, fixing his laces that went untied.

“i’m not talking to you dimwit.” you flicked his forehead, leading to your satisfaction of the nut-like sound from it. “jaehyun, because you missed yesterday’s class, prof assigned me to assist you, along with the other topics you’ve yet to cover. i’ll be expecting you at the café near campus.”

before you stepped out of the hall, yuta pulled your sweater, yanking you back. “are you going to taeyong’s party tonight? you never miss an event!”

you puckered your lips, pinching his cheeks that a cute gummy smile came out from it. “you know my rules. as long as you’re driving me home, i’ll go. see you later.”

jaehyun nodded yet was still in a daze. he realised what you said when yuta pushed him. “gross. don’t act as if we’re already close.”

“hm? was i really? i think it’s normal when you’re making a move on my best friend.” he brought out his laptop and typed his password.

i wasn’t. “whatever.”

and to say that jaehyun didn’t feel butterflies flying uncontrollably in his stomach would be an understatement. they made the intestine churn in ways he couldn’t imagine, and he himself wanted to deny that what he was feeling was just from the influence of others. but wouldn’t that mean his feelings were temporary? because if it were, he should perceive you an ordinary person.

yet here he was outside, still admiring you before he entered the café. he found it was amusing of how oblivious you were of his presence— you were too immersed into this assigned task by professor, but others found it funnier when jaehyun looked stupidly in-love and cowardly the lad looked, despite having the overall aura of a stuck-up.

as the sun’s rays brightened the city and the wind’s breeze made the trees leaves dance, only then had you raise your head to see jaehyun waving at you. ten minutes early, not bad for an actual first impression. “hey,” he greeted, making you smile with his low but gentle voice. “am i late?”

you took your bag from across and asked him to sit down. “no no. you’re just in time, it’s really nice to have an early bird around.”

his dimples deepened at the compliment. “how about the project? is it too late? you think i can still catch up?” jaehyun cleared his throat.

“that depends on your dedication. based on the record professor gets, you’ve been doing your tasks and homework quite diligently. he’s just worried about your habit of not attending his lectures might lead to procrastination when second semester starts.” you gave him a slice of cheesecake to eat. “he’s still teaching us another subject.”

“it’s quite the contrary.” he dove in for the dessert. “i don’t have the will to procrastinate at all.”

“then good.” you twisted the pen in your fingers. “let’s get started?”

for that span of two hours, how he wished it could be more. who knew you would have a lot of things in common with him? that time alone was not enough to talk about vinyl and jazz singers and pretty much everything that were overlooked by people. he brought up his favourite spots in the city and how they became a safe haven to escape the reality.

to cut the explaining short, his shell slowly started to open, bits and new things were showing. if you were surprised he was a good person, jaehyun himself couldn’t believe he was able to converse with people normally. being the awkward and shy type, doing this almost seemed impossible.

was it your magic that caused him to do so?

you learnt that jaehyun was rather special and by special it meant he had gifts that you believed were way beyond human limits. he never studied in a library, rewatched lectures or written his notes. and the professor mentioned how jaehyun received good grades in most of the things he submitted.

to be very honest, you were a little jealous. from how he was sitting in front of you, he didn’t seem to be interested but was definitely listening. and you sort of gave up in continuing anyway. “i don’t understand why i’m told i need to guide you when you’ve already caught up with everything.” you let out a soft chuckle that seemed more of a question.

“i was waiting for you to stop..” jaehyun said quite blatantly and stretched his arms and you were hurt because if he didn’t want to, he could’ve said so. heck, even more so, he shouldn’t have come here and wasted time-

“..because it looked like you were forced to do this by prof.” his smile then faded seeing you mirror the same. “are you alright? you’re a little pale..”

your eyes widened. “oh uh, sorry, i assumed-” you sputtered and probably died inside with what he said. you cursed in your mind. dammit y/n.

jaehyun raised his brows, making you more flustered and panicky. you sighed and waved your ‘its-nothing’ hand. “assumed that i’m brusque and a stuck-up?”

he pierced his eyes at you and you weren’t going to lie, he scared you a bit. but that fear immediately disappeared when a gentle giggle and adorable dimples replaced it. “i get that a lot, but don’t worry. i’m different from what people think. they think i’m not friendly, a-and a loner too.”

“you’re not.” he heard you counter him, slightly slamming the fork down. “if you were, you wouldn’t be here with me. or even bothered to come.”

his heart became warm through your words, that act of kindness torn down his walls of inferiority and his perception towards people changed. “thanks.” he checked the time on his watch and twisted his wrist to show to you. “don’t you have a party to attend to?”

“lee taeyong’s?” you stood up to leave the café. “i feel like skipping it for tonight. i’m not in the mood for parties somehow.”

“because i’m a better company for you?” jaehyun teased and boy was he proud with his remark, you didn’t even deny it. “you don’t have to go if you really don’t want to. it’s better to have time for yourself sometimes.”

“you’re saying from experience?” you asked, putting pressure on your words about his claim of being alone.

“it’s more of an advice for you.” he winked.

you thought he was quite observant even though he barely socialised with others. he noticed the light in your eyes sparkling, in which he felt his chest squeeze. you twirled in your toes as you hugged your laptop. “say.. are you up for a movie marathon?”

—

including now, it’d be the fourth time you both have rewind the specific scene just for that certain song jaehyun kept singing nonstop. and although you loved his voice, having the song on replay would be a little too much and the purpose of the marathon might go in vain. it seemed jaehyun was way into it, so interrupting him would be mean of you so you sang along.

“the nostalgia still hits me ‘til this day.” jaehyun tossed a bag of chips from your kitchen island to you.

jaehyun kept saying it may sound stupid and corny coming from him, but as a child he liked the whole high school musical series; and he pretty much became one when breaking free started to play.

because you both couldn’t decide where to watch the beloved movies by everyone, the marathon ended up being at your apartment. it was subtle, yet quite obvious to you he didn’t want it to be held in his place. you thanked your psychology course for giving lessons to notice even the little things in behaviour.

“how many times do i have to keep telling you it’s okay to like it? not like anyone would tease you for it.” you giggled as you opened the bag and popped a couple of chips into your mouth.

“yeah sure, but i know you would.” he squinted his eyes for you to admit that that was your plan eventually.

“have i?” you singsonged, sipping on the large cola cup.

he pointed at the hairbrush you held and suddenly you bursted out in laughter since jaehyun was obviously— maybe a little— offended with how you mimicked him singing earlier. “okay you caught me.”

jaehyun felt his entire body heating up. still in denial about actually being into you, he took a challenge upon himself and scooted next to you. his arms slightly brushed and touched against yours. “you in for hsm 2?”

“well we are having a marathon, might as well go for camp rock later.” you shrugged and eyed him with a confirming gaze.

“uh-huh.. but i’m still a fan of the trilogy.” jaehyun stole the chips in your hands.

“now aren’t you cheeky.” you gasped at his playful behaviour, and you didn’t dislike it. perhaps you prefer this naught over yuta’s as it didn’t get into your nerves or have the urge to hit him because of the hyperness.

he sat deeper into the beanbag. “i’m comfortable in here. your house feels too homey.”

“so is it my fault that you’re in your comfort zone?” you stated, taking the bag of chips back into your arms.

“yes.” he protested with frequent waves of his palms. “you’re too kind and i might come here to visit often.”

“suit yourself.”

since he arrived here it had him wondering, why did he decide to show up today at campus when there was actually a pure human being like you? he just needed a person— just one— to knock onto his heart. yet with many people in his life trying to do the same thing, none held the correct key. and somehow,

it had to be you.

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you’ve lost count of the number of times jaehyun has been hanging at your crib since then. it became a normal routine but never have you been to his place. it was always yours and you didn’t mind that. though he did promise, you respected his decision.

you found out he could be little dorky and corny but that was the unique trait about him. like friends at kindergarten, you both were still at a get-to-know-each-other stage. so that day, he created a schedule where he would hang out with you on wednesdays and fridays, claiming that he didn’t want to be seen by others, e.g. mr. nobody with ms. golden girl.

however, since then, people close to you have been looking at you rather differently. it wasn’t because they sometimes see jaehyun following you around, they sensed a different aura from you. you could feel their piercing stares from all directions, as if you were the centerpiece of a watch. there was something a little different than usual.

and you tried to ignore this ominous feeling for now.

yuta shook his legs vigorously, in which was an unsightly act to see for someone on the soccer team. you could see him from afar with his hands by his lips, biting it as he waited for your arrival at the university’s sports ground. jaehyun jogged towards you with his bag slung diagonally across his torso. he poked your neck and as a person with severe tickle spots, that caught you off guard into a fight-me position to the doer.

“chill, it’s just me.” jaehyun had both of his hands up, whiskers appearing just by the sides of his nose.

“jaehyun!” you relaxed your limbs. “got a better way of greeting? i don’t like being surprised.” you pulled the hem of his sleeve, missing how he pursed his lips in glee when you both instantly became close, like it was overnight.

he let you grab him as you both walked towards where yuta was standing by the bleachers. “i’m sorry?” he giggled loud enough only for you to hear. “i thought i’d get a priceless reaction from you.”

you rolled your eyes that it almost hurt doing so. “be glad i have enough patience for you.”

“and i didn’t have enough patience last night!” yuta joined the conversation seeing you and jaehyun before him. “where have you been? you said you were coming to my place yesterda- why is he here?” he looked at him then at you. “with you? again?”

“ever thought that i want to have my own ‘me’ time for once?” you took off your cardigan and placed it on the bleachers. you could feel jaehyun chuckling softly when you made reference to his remark.

and boy was he proud. “you’re emphasising on that quite often nowadays.” he helped you carry your bag as you to settled down.

“that’s because i never realised how true it actually is until i say it out loud, since being in everyone’s eyes does pressure me.” you balled your fists to nudge him lightly on the arm, and for him to dramatically receive the attack did put yuta in an awkward position.

“uh hello? i’m still here!” in front of you and jaehyun, yuta snapped his fingers several times to divert attention. “what’s going on with you two? how are you both suddenly so close when you’ve just met for the first time two weeks ago?”

jaehyun swifted his head towards you, and the telepathic exchange of words between you and him had yuta clicking his tongue in disbelief. “you were right, he will react.” jaehyun’s voice prolonged while munching on a corn dog.

“told you so.” you flicked your hair and turned to yuta as you continued talking. “bestie, we’ve been seeing each other since then.”

what the hell? the way yuta’s face turn sour at your smile towards jaehyun, he could almost faint right then and there since he swore he saw mr. dimples smile subtly at you too. “and with just that i’ve been replaced-”

“no i would never replace my best friend.” you held his palms hoping he would calm down from his high emotions, but he immediately pulled his hand away from you, much to your dismay. “hey, i’m here to make amends-”

“yeah?” he clicked on a pen and wrote something on a tissue, soon grabbing your bag from the seat and fished out your wallet. “then you’re treating me my meals for a month. i have another order right now.”

now it was your turn whose face became sour. “a month?! i can’t do that- hey!”

yuta tossed your credit card up in the air and upon seeing his eyes darken— though that was all in your head—you gave in and sighed heavily. you stomped your way to the caféteria while yuta comfortably put one leg on the benches with a satisfied grin. “man she’s easy to tease.”

“is that so? then i know now who she gets it from.” jaehyun said through his chews on his food, making yuta’s ears perk up at the response.

the atmosphere lingering between the two of them invited dark clouds. both could sense the change in their moods, and they both weren’t liking it.

yuta spun and played the ball on his hands then forearms, later let out a scoff when jaehyun raised his brows. he didn’t like the vibe jaehyun was giving and so did the latter. “i do it for fun. it’s natural between us.” yuta said.

“hm? she told me she doesn’t like it when you do.” he saw you on your tiptoes as you struggled to tell the order to the person at the high-levelled counter. but another scoff came out from yuta. “you got a proble-?”

“yeah kinda.”

“i don’t think so. i can tell it really bothers you when y/n hangs out with me.” jaehyun sat up straight at yuta’s comment about him.

“i should be. because i’m her best friend and who knows what type of person you are.” he did a few tricks with his legs. “but if you really want to know then your attitude is what i have problems with.”

“i remember telling you it wouldn’t be good for you when accuse me wrongly.”

he let out a monotonous and rather mocking laugh, taking jaehyun aback but he anticipated this kind of response from him. “and what? you’ll go berserk like you did years ago? as a high school freshman? beating the innocent up or whoever comes your way?”

“look i don’t know where the hell that came from but it’s not what you or everyone else thinks.” jaehyun aggressively crumpled the hotdog wrapper in his palms.

“c’mon you don’t have to hold it all in,” yuta set his ball aside and rested his hands on his waist. jaehyun was getting uncomfortable the more he listened to him. “unleash that side-”

jaehyun rolled his tongue, nodding his head to test him. “alright, i guess i don’t have to when i have feelings for y/n. thanks for the advice.”

what the..? yuta stared at him when there wasn’t a change in his expression. jerk- “now you’re talking. you wanna fight? let’s do that-”

“tsk yuta! the bill’s too expensive!” you whined and gently put down the tray.

while yuta clicked his tongue at your sudden entry and with how quickly you came back, for a moment jaehyun wanted to hug you for being his saviour. he was so close to lose his temper towards your best friend. the relief seen in his tensed shoulders, but you interpreted it otherwise. “are you okay?” you asked while you sat down beside him.

he hummed, folding his arms and looking at the distance, clearly avoiding eye contact with yuta. “mhm, i just realised the deadline is coming up in three days.” he excused.

you managed to utter out a giggle as you finally ate, finding out how jaehyun’s ears always turned red when given attention to. “you’re stressed about it?”

“aren’t you?” jaehyun drank the remains of his soda.

“not really since i finished mine. but, if you’re worried about your progress, i can help you.” you swirled the fork in the air like a wand. jaehyun smiled to himself when yuta took his ball to throw a fit.

“i’m not worried about the project. but there’s an annoying bug i’m trying to hit so help me.” jaehyun’s dimples appeared deeply again and as the darkening ombré sunset shoned his side profile, there you witnessed how pure he actually was— and you missed out on yuta’s frown towards jaehyun.

you gulped and almost choked on your own saliva, eyes still locked in jaehyun’s. his hair caught in the wind, making it look fluffy and his entire demeanour softer than you usually see him. you hitched a breath since jaehyun seemed like he had no plans to avert his gaze too. both of you were definely mesmerised and hypnotised, and for jaehyun it was just like that time. he remembered the colour palette of your makeup while you recalled the perfume he wore.

in the recent marathons with him you’ve never been this close, physically speaking. so this close-up really debunked the impression you heard from people, especially from yuta.

however, as you were oblivious with the pressure behind jaehyun’s words and even smiled back at him, yuta flicked your temple. he was indeed a worry wart and sometimes he would like to flick you just this once for being too much of a social butterfly. he knew it was in your nature to be kind and always on the look out for others. he’s fine when you were with anyone except with this guy you befriended. not him.

he dodged your flying limbs in attempts to hit him. “oi, you’re not going to ask how i am? if i’m worried?”

the pain from the flick remained on your temple. “no? you look fine to me-” you stared at your phone. the message reminding you of the singles elite party a month from today at 8pm. “a party?”

“yeah if you attended the previous party you’d know that there’ll be another one after taeyong’s.” yuta took off his shoes in change for his casual.

“hm. i’m don’t feel like going.” you jumped off the bleachers to dust off your pants. “probably gonna be boring.”

“i’m the one who’s holding it this time!” yuta put you under a headlock in his arms. “you’re ditching your best friend?!”

you giggled and ticked his sides and followed it with a playful hug. “just kidding. i heard from momo! i’ll be there.” you brushed your hair up into a messy bun while spotting jaehyun starting to feel out of place. “oh! do you wanna come to the party, jae?”

yuta mentally facepalmed and it was given he didn’t like what you did. but your eyes were quick to see his reaction and you slapped his chest. he glared at you while his hands caressed it. why did you have to invite him? it was the whole purpose why he decided to hold a party; maybe you’d finally appreciate his hardwork, or perhaps, notice him as someone more and as not a best friend who only worries and teases you.

jaehyun nodded in response, no words needed. a smile crept your lips as if you were given chocolates on valentine’s. “cool.” you pulled him on the wrist after hearing the coach calling yuta, followed with a loud whistle. “ah yuta, we‘ll get going! see you.”

“mm yeah..” yuta hummed, seeing you both vanish in the distance. “see you..”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

your sulking self laid sideways by jaehyun’s lap, head rested on a pillow. it’s been too long since yuta avoided you, purposely ditched your hangouts, seenzoned your messages and ignored your calls. as if these weren’t obvious enough for you to know something was up. there definitely was but you couldn’t put a finger to it. so you forced jaehyun to let you stay at his place, being it your apartment was currently invaded by your brother’s friends from abroad.

but honestly it was also because you discovered jaehyun’s unit was blocks away from yours. fate was gladly on your side.

“y/n, you know i can’t work properly when you’re like this.” jaehyun sighed while he adjusted his sitting posture and lifting his laptop.

you slightly and lazily your body turned upright, seeing his dimples beginning to show themselves. “let me be.” you complained.

jaehyun put down his laptop. “i can’t. you’re in my way of cramming hours. plus, how long have you been coming here? it’s getting too frequent..” he paused when your eyes were no longer on him— rather they were on your phone, staring at the last conversation from yuta.

he couldn’t bring himself to say that he was reason why yuta acting the way he was to you. and for all honesty he would keep this matter to himself. “did i do something wrong?” you asked.

“of course not. he’s probably in his emo phase. guys have them a lot more than you think.” jaehyun typed on the keyboard for the remaining parts of the essay. “but he’ll get out of it eventually.”

“fine i’ll trust on that.” you sat up and scooted over to see his progress. you submitted your assignment hours ago. looking at jaehyun, it seemed he was struggling at some parts. were you unconsciously pressuring him? the beads of sweat began to roll down his temples and that made you giggle if it was the case. uh-huh. he was really feeling that way.

he gulped so loudly that it came out as a weird noise. he hoped you didn’t hear that. but the way you pursed your lips to hold the laughter in only had him discontinuing his report. “d-don’t do that.”

“do what?” you snicker.

jaehyun rolled his eyes and poked your forehead. “you’re too distracting.”

oh how the tables have turned. that comment flipped your head upside down, your heart in a frenzy and stomach churning. it wasn’t “so”, but “too”— that only meant he wasn’t concentrating on his work for a while.

even so, you waited for him to finish despite questionable feelings you’ve been feeling. his coffee cup already did seconds and thirds. and suddenly you remembered the happy hour the local café was promoting and there was a few minutes left until it ends for the day. you had to bring him there.

but you decided that because you wanted to be out of that suffocating air jaehyun caused.

—

the more you walked faster, the more jaehyun’s wrist reddened and hurt. but he let you be as he liked how you were comfortable with someone like him. your hair flowed with the wind, the remains of your shampoo left a sweet scent. was it lavender? and the wind blew stronger, making the scent clearer to the nose. his heart skipped beats, because it was indeed lavender. he swore in his head. scrap aside the frequent marathons and meet-ups. lavender’s all the more reason why fell for you quickly than ever.

and when the local café closed early for the day, you almost lost sight of the pedestrian signs. jaehyun pulled you in as the light emitted red. though you had your emotions get the best of you, you realised how childish you were for something so minor. you laughed in awkwardness, he did too. “i didn’t want anyone to see this side-”

warmth. that was all you thought of right there. you were in his embrace.

“..of me.” you soon mumbled in his chest, realising later of the action he just did. “jaehyun-”

“it’s okay. i don’t too.” his hand gently caressed the back of your head, treating it with care as if he held a newborn baby. “so can i keep you?”

that warmth became hotter, almost boiling that you weren’t able to breathe properly. “i’m sorry.” he said, that must’ve surprised you.” jaehyun chuckled.

surprised? of course you were. how was it natural for him to do skinship? and that smoothly? you both weren’t at that stage yet, let alone have a relationship with mutual feelings. even yuta couldn’t hug you because of how conscious you felt.

but then again, you looked up. you saw his ears. it was red, the usual reaction whenever you were with him. was it normal though? you were never aware of it up until now.

because it was so clear now.

“i’ll see you tomorrow? i have to help my mom with some things.” you lied as you scratched your neck.

jaehyun nodded and pulled away. “alright, go on ahead.”

you poked his dimples because he has been staring at you like he had questions to ask. “what is it?”

maybe he didn’t notice or maybe he did, but he was leaning closer, his head tilting to the side and eyes staring into your soul. you knew what he was about to do, you feel like letting him do so but at the same time you weren’t sure of your feelings.  

just a little more and you could’ve locked lips but..

your phone vibrated.

in panic you looked at your device and eyes widened that brought jaehyun aback.

“ah yuta!” you brought your phone so close to your face, not believing your best friend’s announcement on social media, in which he then followed up with a text message.

the light in your eyes was something jaehyun liked seeing, but didn’t so as well.

“oh! he said the concept for the elites’ party is live wardrobe. all singles will go through a ballot draw. it’s for the clothes to wear for the night..” you locked your phone. “tsk i wanted to wear my favourite dress.”

“i think you’ll look great in whatever gown is chosen for you.” jaehyun pat your head while you were immersed in your phone. “now go. it’s getting late.”

“i’ll expect the same for you.” you replied.

he laughed and that didn’t want to make you leave just yet. “nah don’t. i’m just ordinary in a suit.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

funny how he was so damn wrong.

fate let him draw red, and confidently chose a suit once it was his turn to change. it was as if he knew this attire would go well with him. a suede texture with a black outline on its collar accentuated his brushed up light brown hair, while his black under-shirt contrasted with his porcelain skin. gladly it wasn’t halloween, or else you would’ve mistaken him for a vampire.

he had you feeling all sorts of things, and you didn’t know why when you were nothing more than friends.

an hour ago he was in his usual casual wear. now he was surrounded with ladies who already seemed like they were friends with him for decades. you could see jaehyun was uncomfortable but he kept his cool with folded arms as he leaned against a column. the comments from them irritated you, because at one point they were badmouthing him— and the second he showed up they flooded him with compliments of his good looks and how they named him the “model elite”.

you swirled the wine glass in your hand, the other arm hugged your waist. you rolled your eyes at the falseness these people have towards him. “can’t believe it.” your fingers curled as irritation began to cover your sight. “look at them trying to make a move on him. erlgh too close. they weren’t like that before.”

sicheng rolled his tongue, hands in pockets and walked to be in front of you. “really? you weren’t like that before too.” he pointed out.

“i agree. recently you’re stuck like glue whenever you’re with him.” yuta gestured.

“am so not?” you gasped while your eyes trailed to jaehyun, who was still had patience for the ladies surrounding him. “i just like how he’s a good friend.”

“doubt it.” sicheng poked your cheek. “you wouldn’t feel like this when you have feeli-”

not this again. “i’m grabbing a drink.” yuta suddenly cut the conversation.

“get me one too!” the younger one yelled and after he was satisfied with the gesture, he winced as you pinched his sides from the remark he said earlier. “ow! y/n! it’s true though! i know what i’m seeing!”

truthfully, nothing about sicheng’s words or actions bothered you. but if there was anything that did, it was your own heart. as of tonight, you began to question your feelings towards jaehyun. when did it start? how was it possible to like someone so quickly? “i’m telling you i don’t.” your eyes trailed to him, not realising the rush of heat creeping your cheeks.

jaehyun was approached by yuta, who was giving him a glass of beer. the ladies fled after stealing pictures of the guy and he took the drink in his hands. then they headed towards the garden of the mansion. wonder what he’s here for?

“nice party you have here. concept’s cool.” jaehyun started to break the lingering silence because he knew how awkward this was going to be with your best friend.

“yeah, never knew you’d end up in red. it’s y/n’s favourite colour.” yuta’s voice lowered. there was an impact jaehyun could describe but assuming that would be too rude of him.

“really? i didn’t know.” he hummed. aren’t you a little too happy, jaehyun told himself. he shook it off, for he doesn’t expect him and you to go any further than this.

“now you do. so can you back up for a while? take a week off or something from y/n.” yuta raised his brows.

this was the same feeling from before. he knew this feeling because he felt the exact same way. he wanted to be selfish for once. not like he hated yuta, it was just.. he always had to appear whenever he didn’t want him to. then he would mess his mood. he interrupted his joy of admiring you. jaehyun licked his lips to dampen them. “i’m sorry, who are you to tell me what to do?”

yuta grinned and leaned against the column as he mirrored jaehyun. “don’t you get it?” he asked, his tone rising. “i love y/n. you entering the picture just ruins everything.”

my hunch’s correct. he does love y/n. “if you love her you wouldn’t ignore her.”

“it’s because you’re with her! and she does the same to me! it’s like she’s found someone else-”

“you’re being dramatic.” jaehyun pushed himself off the column and turned to him. “y/n’s sad and moping around because you treated her like she’s all alone. you have no idea how much she waited for you to contact her.”

“what do you know, smartass? you’re just another guy trying to fit in when you know you couldn’t. no matter how much you tried, everyone’s afraid of you. and now you’re telling me you have feelings for y/n? please.” his lips jutted with sounds of disbelief while his body posture challenged jaehyun. “y/n’s kind to everyone she meets. it’s who she is. but to think you have hope to be with someone like her? if you ask me, all i see is a greatest mismatch.”

jaehyun usually didn’t give a damn of the comments about him. he couldn’t care less of any of those. in fact he’d hear them through one ear and out they went. but when he said anything, it irked him.

you see, that was the thing— right now, he actually listened.

he turned a blind eye on yuta’s words and let it off for the night. he was given a drink and maybe the alcohol didn’t work its way on him than it did to guy. in the end, yuta was probably spilling tea even if he didn’t intend to.

“what i feel for y/n has nothing to do with you. just like people can’t control the tides,” jaehyun lightly knocked onto yuta’s chest. “i can’t control mine.”

the footsteps echoed in yuta’s ears, he could hear them despite the noisy hall. “rghhh!” he grabbed hold of his glass and threw it towards jaehyun.

sounds of shattering glass met the ground, as well as catching everyone’s attention. then there was silence. jaehyun began to lose his patience as he turned around. his smirk challenged him. ouch. this was the fight yuta was looking for, seeing jaehyun’s heavy breaths only made him stand on his toes.

jaehyun punched him in the jaw though he knew it wasn’t worth his time. but he wanted to give him a taste of stepping beyond boundaries. yuta punched him back too. he made sure the star of the night was the other— shone the brightest and reveal his true nature. he didn’t count the number of hits he received, as long as jaehyun stayed that way.

“i told you it wouldn’t be good if you provoked me!” jaehyun growled. “you’re asking for show? i’ll give you one!”

“huh..” yuta wiped his bleeding lip. “you sure about that, beast?”

jaehyun held himself for the next punch, feeling all of the pairs of eyes on him. yours included. that was what he feared. “aw. what impression does she have on you now?” yuta’s cooing words caused jaehyun’s eyes to soften.

all bleeding and bruised, jaehyun’s injuries have matched with his suit. he clenched his fists as he frustratingly left the hall.

in your peripheral, your eyes trailed his direction and your legs followed him by heart, without realising yuta calling out your name several times. everything went blank, not thinking things straight because while everyone watched, no one understood. you glared at yuta before heading outside, a more disappointed sigh was the only response he got from you.

yuta was then nudged by sicheng. the latter could see the change in his expression. “what did i tell you?”

“you don’t have to tell me.” yuta dusted his pants.

“i’m still gonna.” sicheng rolled his eyes and poked the lad’s temple. “that’s what you call ‘stupidity’. if only you confessed to her before maybe things would be different between you guys.”

“i don’t want things to be different dude.”

“i’m gonna state the obvious, you probably already know this but.. you lost this battle.”

“crap..” yuta’s voice changed from a nervous chuckle to a soft sob. “i liked her first.”

you spotted jaehyun sitting atop a metal barrier just in front of the carpark— head down to mend his injuries and scratches. he sniffed from the cool night breeze before hopping off. “you’ll hurt your feet.” he pointed at the heels you had dangling in your hands.

his gaze softened when you pointed at his face, especially the black eye. “touché.” he chuckled, later feeling your cold hands against his throbbing flesh. “it’s no big deal-”

“i’m sorry about yuta’s behaviour.” you sighed. “don’t let it get into you. he’s an airhead when he’s drunk-”

“you sure? he seemed pretty sober when he said- ah.” he pursed his lips to speak any further. “nevermind.”

now that gotten you curious. “what did he say? spill it!” you whined, causing jaehyun mouth to curve a little in amusement.

jaehyun prolonged the silence and grabbed your shoes, leading you towards his car. once he unlocked it and opened the door, he bursted out in a loud, healthy laugh. “he said he was head over heels for you.”

you pushed him to the driver’s seat and slammed the door, rolling your eyes at the pun. “that was so lame!” you sat on the other side. “but i know that already if you thought i didn’t. i subtly turned him down ages ago. guess he didn’t take the message.”

“clearly.”

as you tended to his wounds, one question still had your curiosity at its peak. jaehyun was quiet through-out, so it was hard to bring the topic up for a while. until your eyes and his met.

“what did you tell him before he threw the glass at you?” you dabbed the cotton onto the beaten area. “it must’ve pissed him.”

he dropped his car keys and let out a nervous hum. “uh..” he didn’t know what else to say. right when he was finally about to tell you, you suddenly giggled.

“unless you told him you like me and that made him angry, but i doubt that happened.” your lips shrank to a circle, cursing at yourself for assuming too much. girl the guts you have was incomparable—

jaehyun’s large hand held yours while you continued to apply medication. the warmth, the heat and the building tension of skinship made you weak. “you’re right.”

your smile and breaths changed in an instant when he fixed himself on the seat. he smirked a little, finding how cute you were. it drove him crazy.

“i like you, for the longest time, since the orientation. i’m so into you that i couldn’t help myself be selfish and have you to myself— i- i don’t know what i’m saying.” he sighed, pushing himself away in embarrassment with arms above his face.

“t-thanks.” you fiddled with your fingers.

“i’m not asking for an answer. i just wanted to let you know.” he said. “gosh this is a bad timing for confession.”

“then is it a bad timing if i said i’m into you too?” you looked away and out in the distance. you could see his reaction on the window’s reflection. he was shocked, but an uncontrollable smile was forcing itself on the surface. it was written in the dimples.

“no,” his husky voice called you to look back. “you’re just about right.”

[lindzaylove]

eighteen

A Kook's Perspective series

word count: 2.5k

trigger warnings: underage drinking, protective dad, controversial bandana color ???

taglist: @ashleyj27 @pogueslandia @maybankforlife @teelagurl558 @maybanktrash @psychosympathizer @slut4jj @cherrybarzy

gif by: @gemmusings

"are you sure you don't mind honey?" your mom asked, putting her earrings on. you nodded again, hoping your parents would actually leave a lot sooner. "we just feel so bad about leaving you on your birthday."

"mom, it is really okay. i'll probably just order some food and watch movies," you lied. your phone was vibrating in your pocket with the Pogues all wanting to know where you were.

"oh, have some people over! the Camerons would be welcome, that Thornton boy too," your mom stood from her vanity, turning to face you. "how do i look?"

"fabulous, as always," you smiled. she did look absolutely stunning. you were sure she would put all the other military girlfriends and wives to shame at.....whatever event this was in Charleston. at that moment, your dad came in.

"Sarah is outside," your dad said, checking his tie in the mirror before looking at you. "i think she has something for your birthday."

"Sarah Cameron?" you asked, turning to look out the window. there she stood, leaning against a black car with a relatively large and thin pink square in her hand. "what the fu-"

"Y/N," your mom scolded you, coming to look out the window as well. "i didn't know you and Sarah were getting to know one another."

"we aren't," you turned around. "i can walk out with you guys and talk to her then."

"go on down, i want to talk to Y/N for a moment," your dad said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. your mind ran over all the things you've done in the past week to warrant getting in trouble with your dad. you had purposefully stayed home since the boneyard party incident and avoided even speaking to the Pogues in case your parents had caught it.

"so, i saw Jake Allen at the club yesterday," your dad fixed his sleeves. your heart stopped; your whole body froze. he obviously knew everything, but no excuse could pour out of your mouth about why you had been with Rafe.

"he said he saw you and Rafe Cameron driving around the island," he finally looked at you. "at one in the morning."

"he did," you nodded. "i had been down at the beach that night. Rafe, Sarah, Topper Thornton, and Kelce Smith were there doing their own thing. I didn't drive, so instead of letting me walk home, Rafe gave me a ride." you were twirling a bracelet around your wrist behind your back, nerves coursing through you.

"that all that happened?"

"he dropped Kelce off, then Topper and Sarah, and then we got here around one. i wasn't ready to come in so we drove around and listened to music. i got home around three and went straight to bed."

"he ran a red light with you in the car," your dad put his hands in his pockets. "so why didn't i know until yesterday?"

"i dropped my phone and he was just making sure i was okay. we just happened to go through the light. he wasn't speeding or driving erratically at all," you were pleading, though you weren't sure why. he wasn't even angry at you, he was angry with Rafe for getting you in trouble and putting you in danger. you could easily put him under the bus and let your dad drive it over him, but you couldn't. you were getting defensive for him.

"he wasn't drinking or on anything?" your dad was still set in his stance, but you were done playing with your bracelet.

"if i was in danger, you know i would have told Mr. Allen," you crossed your arms. "can i go get my present now?"

"yeah, of course," your dad finally calmed down. "i'm just glad it wasn't one of those other kids you're always hanging out with. they must have been at that party that night."

"mhm," you rolled your eyes as you went down the stairs. outside, it was starting to get warm out as the sun went to reach its peak in the sky. your mom was talking to Sarah, who was standing up straight from the car and moving her hands around as she spoke.

"hey," you greeted them, pulling your cardigan up over your shoulder despite the heat. "what's up?"

"happy birthday," Sarah smiled, going to grab the once forgotten gift she had for you. "it's from Rafe, actually."

"he couldn't give it to her?" your dad asked, joining everyone in the front yard. you were staring at Sarah, hoping Rafe had a really good excuse for sending his sister - for his sake.

"he and my dad are going into Charleston today," Sarah told him. you closed your eyes, praying your dad doesn't make a smart comment.

"we're going into Charleston!" your mother smiled, you could hear it in her voice. "what are you they going for?"

"my dad has some business to do and dragged Rafe along. but you two look much nicer than some business meetings," Sarah complimented them.

you rolled your eyes. your dad was literally in his Marine Corp Dress Blue Uniform.

"open up your gift before we leave you two," your dad said. he was smiling, though it didn't reach his eyes. you pulled the pink tissue paper off the gift, your jaw dropping as you realized what it was. you pulled all the paper off, revealing to everyone the Chase Atlantic Vinyl.

"he got you a record?" Sarah asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

"we had talked about it the other night briefly," you brushed hair behind your ear, a big smile on your face. "i also have a record player in my room."

"that's so sweet," your mom said. your dad cleared his throat in response.

"you two need to go before you miss your ferry," you told them, ushering them to your father's car. they both kissed you on the cheek and left. you let out a sigh, coming face to face with Sarah by yourself.

"thank you, for giving this to me," you held up the vinyl slightly. "you can go home now."

"that's not the only reason i'm here," Sarah admitted. you paused to look at her instead of going inside. she held up a bandana - a gray piece of fabric that was far too familiar.

"what are you doing with that?" you turned all the way back around. "is John B. okay?"

"he sent me to come pick you up. you're supposed to be coming over to the chateau for your birthday and i am your ride since i had to see you to give you that," Sarah put the bandana back in her pocket. "so go put that inside and let's go."

"whatever," you mumbled, going back into your house. as you went up the stairs to your room, a piece of paper came out of the vinyl. you stopped and picked it up.

happy birthday, y/n. sorry it doesn't have your favorite song, but i hope it'll do - R.C.

you smiled the rest of the way up to your room, adding the record to your box of others. you switched tops and lost the cardigan.

the note from Rafe was sweet, even if all it really said was happy birthday. you thought over whether or not to add it to your memo board, but you slid it on there despite your better judgement. by the time you got downstairs, Sarah was in her car and scrolling on her phone. you got in the front seat next to her, pulling your phone out. Sarah's music was playing quietly through the speakers, but you quickly went to send Rafe a message on Instagram.

thank you for the gift! it means a lot that you got me something :)

you checked your other messages, quickly heading to the group chat to question why Sarah was suddenly involved in your birthday plans. all you got in reply were the eye emojis, though John B. wasn't answering your messages which made you even more annoyed. you were out of Sarah's car before she was parked.

"John B.!" you yelled, storming into the chateau. he came out of his room, a wide smile on his face.

"hey Y/N! happy eighteenth!" he went to give you a hug, but you out your hands up and blocked him.

"why the hell does Sarah have your dad's bandana?" you pointed at her as she came in. "why is she even here at all?"

"well, you were there when we kissed," John B. swallowed. you crossed your arms, biting gently on your tongue. "and this past week she broke up with Topper and came-"

"she went home with him that night!" you exclaimed. "like held his hand and went into his house."

"you went with them, you can't be mad at her for that," John B. threw it back.

"i didn't kiss someone in front of my boyfriend, then let my boyfriend beat him up, and ultimately leave with my boyfriend," you turned to Sarah. "did you and Topper fuck while you were at his house? you were all over him in the truck."

"i didn't," she glared at you. "let me know when she calms down, i'm going outside."

"funny how she gets to talk to me like i'm a dog and you don't stick up for me at all," you looked at John B. "let alone on my birthday."

"i'll talk to her about it after you explain to me what went through your mind when you went with her," John B. leaned against the wall.

"i was thinking that my father would happily blame you all for what happened and get you all in trouble if i had been seen by the police with you. i was the farthest away from the twinkie and would have gotten as all pulled over and in trouble if you'd have to wait. so excuse me for caring about the well being of my friends," you raised your eyebrows. "gonna go get your girlfriend to apologize now?"

"you went ghost after that night. we all just eventually assumed that Rafe convinced you of something bad. Sarah had said he took you home alone and that after she broke up with Topper she went straight home. she got home around two and he didn't get home until after three. he wouldn't talk about what took him so long so we didn't know what happened," John B. explained. "that doesn't give me the right to be a jerk to you, so i'm sorry."

"my dad knew about the party and i didn't want him to connect it to you guys. but Rafe and i just listened to music, that's all," you said, though you were still hurt that they thought Rafe would have that much influence on you. yeah, being with Rafe was fun, but they were still your friends. you were not that fickle in your opinions.

your opinions on Rafe, however....

"i understand now," John B. gave you a half smile, holding his arms out. "can i give you your birthday hug now?"

"i suppose," you teased with a matching smile, giving him a hug. you two hugged and went outside together, the other four people at John B.'s all looking at you expectantly.

"i'm eighteen, not eighty. you guys can be happy for me," you told them, laughing slightly. Kie was the first to come hug you, Pope following with JJ trailing along. John B. went to Sarah and they seemed to talk. by the time you wrangled out of JJ's grip, Sarah came and apologized.

"hey Y/N," Sarah started, fingers rubbing the thin material tied around her neck. you recognized it as the bandana. however angry you were before, it was John B.. he was your friend and you trusted his judgement - despite how dumb he seemed some times.

"i'm sorry," you told her. "you didn't have to come over this morning and bring me here, but you did. you clearly like John B. and he likes you, and you won't be going anywhere. i just thought it was going to be us five, but six is a better number."

"i'm sorry for being rude too, especially since it's clear how much you care ab-"

"let's get this party started!" JJ yelled, interrupting you and Sarah by pulling a beer out of no where and handing it to you. you took a drink and smiled at Sarah.

it truly was the beginning of one of your favorite days ever.

there was glow sticks, alcohol, and a hot tub. you got more bracelets from Kie, a book you had been wanting to read from Pope, a serenade from John B. and JJ, and an IOU from Sarah. there was so much laughter and cheer, you couldn't believe that once upon a time these people weren't your friends. you were so grateful for them, for the adventures they've taken you on.

nonetheless, nagging in the back of your mind, was that feeling in your chest. were you having fun doing something you shouldn't be right now? yes. was it giving you that feeling? unfortunately, no. your brain kept thinking about Rafe despite the dancing and drinking with your friends. you kept thinking about that feeling in your chest you were missing. you were really trying to not let it bother you. you wanted to find your way back to Rafe's truck with the windows down and music blaring. you realized you would probably be chasing that feeling for the rest of your life. the revelation made you ready to go home and listen to your new vinyl - at least that would remind you of that feeling. it was the first time you had ever felt out of place while with your friends.

"hey, are you feeling okay?" Sarah asked, gently touching your elbow. you vaguely remembered that she wasn't drinking because John B. knew you had to be home by the time your parents got back.

"i should probably get home. it's getting late," you nodded, putting your drink down on the counter. "where are my-"

"in my car already. say your goodbyes and i'll see you out there," Sarah smiled, heading out the door to the porch. you splashed some water in your face, hoping to finally calm yourself down. it was dark out now, and you were probably supposed to be home. you checked your phone again, the only message being from Rafe.

"who's that?" Kie asked, popping in next to you. you locked your phone, shoving it in your pocket.

"just some birthday wishes," you waved it off, holding Rafe as your secret. it was just a birthday present anyway, no need to get everyone torn up about it.

"happy birthday, Y/N," Kie hugged you suddenly. "i can't wait to go on a road trip with you once we graduate."

"of course," you hugged her back. "thank you for an amazing night, as always. you're a great friend, Kiara."

"you're just going home for the night, Y/N. no one is disappearing forever," she laughed pushing you out the door while she went to the bathroom. you gave your hugs to the boys before getting into Sarah's car. you checked your phone again, finally being able to see his reply.

i'm glad you like it, you deserve it. happy birthday, y/n x

[soobmint]

paper hearts | choi soobin [f] ; [c] 80s! au, 9.6k words

s u m m a r y ; if there was one thing you wanted to avoid on valentine’s day, it was running into your ex best friend, choi soobin. but when a series of unfortunate events involving too much purple eyeshadow, drunken punches, and one stolen bicycle leads you right back to his side, you begin to realize that maybe you truly belonged with him all along.

c o n t e n t s ; soobin x fem!reader, 80s! au, valentine’s day, ex best friend! soobin, rich boy! soobin, but he’s a major dweeb and the biggest softie, yeonjun is a major prick (i’m so sorry junnie), reader is a part time worker, soobin is best friends with lee felix of stray kids, some themes of social classes, roughly inspired by the 80s movie “pretty in pink,” mentions drugs, alcohol, and single parent households, mostly just fluff, fluff, and more fluff, with a hint of crack/humor

n o t e ; hello friends! this was a very quickly planned, last minute valentine’s day idea, and it’s actually a collab with one of my dearest friends, @chanluster ! she posted her piece of the collab as well, you can check it out by going to the collab masterlist here! this was so much fun to write and i think that 80s! soobin was just too good of a concept to pass up! anyways, happy valentine’s day, i hope you enjoy this oneshot! do leave a like, reblog, or comment if you could, it really helps so much <3

[back to my masterlist] [oneshot playlist]

IF ONE MORE CUT-OUT, CRAFT-PAPER HEART HIT YOU IN THE FACE, YOU WERE GOING TO QUIT YOUR JOB.

Of course you would never actually quit. With your mother out of the picture and your father working nonstop overtime just to barely have enough cash to put food on the table for the both of you, you had come to rely on your minimum wage part-time hours more than you liked to admit. However, the handmade strings of paper hearts that hung from wall to wall throughout the entirety of the record shop you were employed at was enough to make you consider it; not to mention the Phil Collins record that had been spinning all day, filling your ears with melodies embodying the very air of romance, and the embarrassing pink sweater your boss had forced you to wear. You mumbled curses beneath your breath as you pulled at the collar, itching away at your neck.

When you made a step towards a crate full of records, ready to tidy it up after a customer had rummaged through it leaving it a mess, you were met with another face full of cheap red construction paper. With a large growl of exasperation, you swatted at the hearts and accidentally caused the entire string of them to fall to the ground. You cleared your throat, glad that no customers were present to see your little outburst.

Your boss, Jen, still saw it all.

“That’s not very festive of you, kid,” She said, taking a drag on her cigarette. “It’s Valentine’s Day! Lighten up.”

“Ah, my bad. I forgot that I was supposed to be overjoyed on the day honoring the execution of St. Valentine,” You said as you gave her a sarcastic smile. “I’ll make sure to smile at the next couple that walks in and ask them how they plan to contribute to the commercialization of a martyr’s death.”

“You must be real fun at parties,” Jen mumbled. She shook her cigarette at you from behind the counter. “You’re just bitter because you don’t have a valentine. I can’t blame anyone for giving you the cold shoulder with that attitude of yours.”

You scowled, picking up the string of hearts that you had sent crashing to the floor. “I’m not bitter, and I don’t want a date. Also, I told you to stop smoking inside! It smells awful.”

“Last I checked, this was my shop, not yours.” You rolled your eyes as you approached the counter, handing the discarded string to Jen so she could throw it in the trash. “Now you’re making me do chores for you too? You’ve got some nerve, I’ll give you that.”

“Jen, please, I’m really not in the mood for this today.”

Jen shrugged, bending towards the trash can to throw away the string of hearts when she paused and pulled something from the bin. You glanced over your shoulder and gasped when you saw what she held in her hand—a small red envelope with your name scrawled across the front and a pink heart-shaped sticker stuck on the back.

“What’s this?” Jen asked, opening the envelope and shaking out the contents. A single slip of paper fell out, landing atop the counter. You rushed to grab it, but Jen snatched it up just before your fingers reached the countertop.

“Give me that,” You insisted, face growing warm. “I threw it away for a reason!”

“It’s an invitation to a party?” She seemed beyond surprised, glancing back and forth between you and the paper several times. “You got invited to a Valentine’s Day party, and instead of going, you asked me to give you extra hours? Why?”

You looked down at your feet, digging the toe of your sneaker into the blue carpet. There were, in fact, many reasons why you did not want to go to that party. They were as follows:

One: Choi Yeonjun was the one who had invited you. After you had rejected his offer when he asked to take you to a basketball game a month before, you could barely make eye contact with him in the school hallway without feeling guilty. That and the fact that he was one of the richest preps in the school, you knew he had just been asking you out for some sort of prank or dare that you preferred to not potentially fall victim to.

Two: you needed to work as much as you could. Money, as always, was tight for you and your father. There was no way you would sacrifice precious hours to go to a party full of rich kids where nothing but humiliation was sure to await you.

Three: your old childhood friend and the one person you couldn’t bear to see was probably going to be there—Choi Soobin.

You had barely spoken to Soobin in the four years you had been in high school. Crossing paths with him in the cafeteria, turning down the same aisle of books as him in the library, all those tiny stolen glances and accidental encounters were the only bits of interaction you had kept throughout all that time. The worst part was, he hadn’t done anything wrong.

It was nothing but your own cowardice that had driven the two of you apart, and you were still too afraid to own up to it.

Instead of explaining all of this to Jen, you simply shrugged and said, “I dunno. It just sounds lame.”

Your boss sighed, holding the invitation out towards you. “Okay, I’m letting you off early. Go to the party.”

With wide eyes, you shook your head immediately. “Absolutely not. Why in the world would I go?”

“Well, first of all, it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity for you. Who knows when your next chance to go to a party will be.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at that.

“Second, it’s a holiday! The only reason I even opened today was because you were begging me for hours. I thought it was because you were bummed about having no plans, but clearly it’s because you wanted an excuse to be a recluse.”

“Hey, I’m not a recluse.”

“Clearly.” She shook the invitation at you once more, brows raised. “If you go, I’ll raise your pay by fifty cents for the next month.”

Your ears perked up at that.

“Well?” She asked, well aware that she had hit the jackpot. “What'd ya say?”

Weighing the risks against the benefits, you bit the inside of your cheek.

“Make it a dollar and you’ve got a deal.” 

-

“HAPPY VALENTINE’S, CHOI.”

When Soobin heard the sarcastic remark coming from his best friend, Felix, he had to fight back the urge to burst into tears then and there. He still wasn’t quite sure how Felix had convinced him to come, but he was already regretting it. The last thing he wanted to do to celebrate the day dedicated to love was spend it at a house party—or, as Soobin preferred to call them, any outcast high school kid’s version of hell on earth.

With a quick peek between his fingers, which he had used to cover his eyes immediately upon arriving at the site of the Valentine’s party, Soobin caught another eye-full of couples getting all too familiar with one another out in the open. He gulped, letting his hands grip the handles of the bike as he averted his gaze, choosing to cast his best glare at Felix, who was busy adjusting his ever-present beanie.

“Shut up,” he murmured, slowly sliding off the seat of his bike. He dusted off the worn, tearing cushion, glancing around the area. “Now quick, we gotta put our stuff somewhere safe.”

Felix looked aghast, making no moves to help Soobin in his search for a hiding spot. “What are you doing?”

“Tryna find a safe place for my bike?” He thought the answer to be somewhat obvious, but clearly Felix wasn’t on the same track of thinking. “You don’t know today’s world! Anyone is willing to steal nowadays.”

“Soobin, your bike is coughing up oil from its chains. It should be in its own care home at this rate.”

“I don’t wanna hear your slander, skater boy,” Soobin retorted, eyeing Felix’s ebony skateboard that he refused to be seen without. As if on cue, when he pushed his bike forward, the chains squealed, drawing the attention of a pair of particularly passionate individuals who had been wrapped up with one another moments before. Soobin ignored their annoyed stares, feeling his ears burn from embarrassment. He glanced back to Felix. “Help me find a hiding spot.”

Felix was anything but enthusiastic, but he began to help Soobin search nonetheless.

“Slide it in here, Soobs,” Felix called a few moments later. He was pointed to an empty space between the home’s perfectly trimmed bushes. Soobin pursed his lips together, pushing his large glasses further up the bridge of his nose—a nervous tick of his. Felix groaned, rolling his eyes. “Or you can leave it out in the open so it’ll spit more oil on the passersby? Is that what you want?”

“Fine, fine!” Soobin huffed, wheeling his bike over to the shrubbery, chains squeaking all the way. He carefully laid it beneath the brush and moved a few branches to cover it up nicely. He stood up straight, dusting his hands on the front of his loose blue jeans. “What about your skateboard?”

Felix gave the board a pat, awarding his most prized possession a dazzling smile one would expect to see a proud father giving his beloved son. But in reality, it was the school’s stoner grinning ear to ear at his old, dusty skateboard. “Nightrider stays with me.”

Soobin scrunched his nose, cringing on instinct. He still calls that thing by that stupid name?

Felix clapped him on the shoulder before he could make a remark, catching him off guard when he said, “Right. Let’s go and get your girl.”

There was nothing Soobin could do to stop the flush that rushed to his cheeks right away. Images of you, his ex-best friend and the only reason he had even come to this party in the first place, flashed through his mind. Had he not overheard Yeonjun invite you earlier that morning and then casually mention the encounter to Felix, there was no way he would have even stepped foot out of his house that night. Part of him was peeved, wishing he had never uttered a single word about you to his overbearing friend. Yet, deep down, there was hope within him—the tiniest sliver.

If there was even the slightest chance that he could talk to you that night, he would do anything. Even if it meant dealing with a stupid party, and the never-ceasing teasing he was bound to continue receiving from Felix.

“Don’t even say that,” He said, emphasizing each word as they walked up the front steps. Soobin had to glance down at his much shorter friend to see the devious grin on his freckled face.

“Say what? That she’s your girl, your woman, your one and only?”

The blush must have been creeping to his neck by that point. He could feel it. “I. . .” There were many things Soobin wished to say; angry words that would hopefully shut the blonde skater boy up real quick. But he couldn’t bring himself to say a single harsh word, so he sighed in defeat. “I can’t even say it.”

“That you hate me?” Felix only grinned even bigger, and Soobin couldn’t help the tiny defeated smile that slipped over his features. “Oh, I know. It’s because I’m too good of a best friend.”

They stepped into the house then, instantly being overwhelmed by loud music, boisterous laughter, and drunken yells echoing throughout the halls. Soobin latched onto Felix right away, gripping his friend’s sleeve as someone stumbled into him, a bit of beer spilling from their cup. He pushed his glasses up, only for them to slide right back down as he began to sweat.

“Maybe we should go home, Lix!” Soobin shouted to be heard over the noise as they travelled further into the house. “We can always try next year!”

“Stop being a scaredy-cat!” Felix shouted back, and Soobin thought he might actually begin to cry as they squeezed their way into the living room. Soobin nearly gagged at the strong smell of alcohol as it burned in his nose. The scene was nothing short of a nightmare to Soobin—loud voices, smoke rising in the air, vodka assaulting his nose and sweat beading on the back of his neck. He had never been one to drink, and he didn’t plan on starting that night; but he was beginning to understand what Felix meant when he had once told him it was nearly impossible to get through one of these parties sober.

He was about to make another complaint and beg to leave when someone from the crowd hollered his name, causing him to wince when he recognized that voice as the one that belonged to none other than Choi Yeonjun.

“Soobin! Where you been?”

Soobin smiled nervously at the school’s heartthrob—and textbook snobby rich kid—before he turned back to Felix. He didn’t want to leave his friend, but he knew that he would never hear the end of it if he ignored Yeonjun’s persistent calls. “I’ll be right back,” He promised Felix, still holding onto his sleeve.

“No, no,” Felix assured. “You go. You’ll probably find her around that place anyway.”

Soobin wasn’t so sure of that. You were definitely not of the right social standing to be caught amongst the circle of the school’s rich boys—which was why it had surprised Soobin that Yeonjun had invited you to the party in the first place. Your high school had its own caste system, and you were near the bottom of it.

And, as much as it pained him to admit it, Soobin was stuck at the very top with all the other rich snobs who cared about nothing more than their daily allowances that came straight from their daddy’s bank account.

“What about you, buddy?” He asked Felix, desperate for any excuse to remain by his friend’s side. He would have tried to bring Felix with him, but his friend was in an even worse social standing than you were—he was poor, and he was most known for being the school’s pothead. There was no way Soobin would willingly drag him into a situation where nothing but slander and torment awaited him.

“Me?” Felix shrugged, gripping his board tighter. “I’ll just smoke away the night.”

Soobin pouted, glancing back at the group of preps as they called for him once again. He sighed, clapping Felix on the shoulder. “Just make sure you won’t smell too much of it when I come back.”

Submitting himself to his doom then, he turned on his heel and slowly made his way to where the group of  boys sat near the sofa, giving them a half-hearted wave.

“Why were you hanging around that Felix guy?” Yeonjun asked once Soobin had reached their circle. “Did he blackmail you or something?”

Soobin frowned, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “He’s my friend.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes, brushing a hand through his perfectly-straightened ebony locks. “Sure he is. Tell me, do you see every kid you find on the streets as some sort of personal charity project? Or is it just Felix and—what was her name—” He snapped his fingers then before he said, “Y/N, right?”

Soobin didn’t respond—well, it was more like he couldn’t respond. By nature he was a very passive being, but nothing drew him closer to bouts of anger than when the people he cared about were being insulted right before him.

Especially when it came to you.

Yet, as much as he wanted to tell Yeonjun off or give him a nice shove into the smoke-stained walls, words failed him. They always did. Perhaps this was why you had abandoned him all those years ago. Nobody knew him better than you did, so of course you were able to see what he truly was beneath all the expensive clothes and nervous laughter—a coward.

He figured that he’d probably have left himself too.

“Drink up, buttercup.” The chipper voice that belonged to the other Choi in the small gathering of socialites, Choi Beomgyu, thrust a plastic red cup towards Soobin’s chest. 

He shook his head, throwing another wavering smile in his direction. “No thanks. I don’t drink.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes. “Of course you don’t. Why are you even here then?”

Once again, Soobin chose silence as his only response. He swallowed, patting the front pocket of his denim jacket. As the group of boys began conversing once more, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander around the room, searching every drunken face for the features that belonged to you, trying to hear your name in every conversation, desperate for your voice to break through the blasting music and shouting voices.

“Who ya looking for there, Big Choi?” Soobin grimaced at the nickname. He was skinny, but incredibly tall, and nobody would let him forget that. “Big Choi” was one of his most common nicknames among the elitists. He despised it, but of course, he would never voice that aloud.

He glanced at Beomgyu and smiled nervously again, shaking his head. “Nobody.”

His eyes met Yeonjun’s and he gulped yet again as the latter eyed him with suspicion. It wasn’t as though he had anything to hide, but something about Yeonjun’s calculating gaze made his skin crawl.

He needed to escape. Just for a moment, at least.

“I’ll be right back. Going to find some water.”

He slipped out of the living room then, apologizing profusely to each couple he accidentally bumped into, bowing in remorse to each person’s toes his big feet happened to stumble over. He ached to be by Felix’s side—the stoned skateboarder had become somewhat of a security blanket to the taller of the duo—but his blonde friend was nowhere to be seen.

After snagging a bottle of water from the kitchen, Soobin managed to slip into an empty bathroom. He slammed the door shut and wasted no time in locking it. Letting out the biggest sigh of relief, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the door, taking a big gulp of the ice cold water.

He set the bottle on the counter and carefully reached into the front pocket of his jacket, his fingers finding the piece of paper he had been storing there all evening. He pulled it out and let his eyes wander over his middle school creation. It was a big heart, cut out from a scrap piece of red construction paper. Scrawled across it in his eight-grade handwriting were the words, Be mine this Valentine’s! His name was etched at the bottom, and at the very top, delicately printed in hot pink glitter glue, your name was written as well.

He had planned to give this to you four years ago on Valentine’s day. Everything had been planned out perfectly; he was to pick you up on his old, trusty bike. It wasn’t really made for two people, but the two of you had fashioned a makeshift extra seat for you to sit upon whenever you went places together. 

He wanted to take you to the Dairy Shack, which was the local ice cream shop where the two of you spent the most time together. You always got a large chocolate shake to share, playing a quick game of rock, paper, scissors to decide who got to eat the cherry on top. He was going to order a shake and specially ask for two cherries that time, and planned to give both of them to you before he would bravely present you with the handmade card he had spent all day working on.

However, when he waited for you outside your house that day, the red dusk turned to pitch black night, and you never stepped foot out your door.

He had even gone up to your door a few times and knocked, but there was no answer. Eventually he pedalled off into the night, back to his house. He was disappointed, of course, but more worried than anything else. He had hoped you weren’t sick.

But when he saw you at school the next day, he knew that hadn’t been the case.

And when you ignored him calling your name as you passed by him in the hallways, he knew that something had drastically changed.

For weeks, Soobin was in great turmoil as he replayed your last few encounters together before you had stood him up. Perhaps you were angry that he had won the last few games of rock, paper, scissors? If he had known, he would have given you all the cherries for the rest of time if it meant you would still talk to him. He didn’t care about them—he cared about you.

He missed you.

And as weeks turned to months, and months turned to years, you still barely spoke to him, and he missed you more and more. The best friend he had wanted to take a step closer to had taken a thousand steps back from him, and he still had no idea why.

But that night, he was determined to find out.

Well, if he could muster up the courage to get a single word out, of course.

He folded the heart back up and stuck it back in his pocket, taking a deep breath as he observed himself in the fogged-up mirror. He fixed his bright blue hair that Felix had helped him bleach and dye, making sure the pieces fell over the corners of his eyes just right. He straightened his white turtleneck and cuffed the sleeves of his denim jacket until he was at least somewhat content with his appearance.

“You can do this, Soobs,” He told himself, adjusting his big round glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “That’s what Felix would say.”

“Hey, rich boy!” A loud scream came from outside the bathroom door, accompanied by harsh knocking that sent Soobin stumbling backwards until he fell in the shower, pulling the curtains down with him.

“Hurry up in there! I’m about to piss myself!”

Soobin let out a shaky sigh, scrambling to his feet as he rushed to fix the curtain he had torn down with his clumsiness. “Sorry,” he mumbled, though he doubted the person on the other side of the door could hear him.

He realized then with an ever growing dread that it would be a miracle if he survived the night long enough to even find you, but it would take the work of God himself for him to actually speak to you.

He figured it was time for him to start praying.

- 

YOU KNEW IT WAS A MISTAKE TO LET JEN DO YOUR MAKEUP.

When she had stopped you on your way out the door with a compact of bright purple eyeshadow, you had turned her down right away. No way in all of creation were you walking in a party with such an atrocious color caked up to your brow bone.

“How can you say it’s gonna look bad if you haven’t even let me try?” Jen had asked.

You had given her a once-over, your lips pressed into a thin line. “If it’s gonna look anything like the way you do your own makeup, I’m gonna have to pass.”

After that snide remark, she had threatened to fire you if you didn’t let her apply the makeup. And so you obliged, though you didn’t have much of a choice.

The booming sounds of the party hit your ears before you had even reached the lawn. Screaming teens—well, there were probably some adults thrown in there as well—and the sound of music spilled through the open windows of the home. Couples and singles alike were scattered throughout the perfectly kept lawn that was now littered with empty cups and other assortments of garbage.

You looked down at your patchwork jeans and pink sweater, certain that you would be underdressed compared to the rest of the partygoers. But from the looks of things, as you carefully squeezed your way through the front door and into the home, everyone was probably too wasted to even notice your arrival, let alone care about your looks.

You caught a glimpse of your face in the hallway mirror, cringing at the sight of your eyeshadow. You had tried to wipe some of it away before arriving, but it simply smudged, giving you quite the shocking smoky, purple eye look. For someone who didn’t even know the difference between a paintbrush and a makeup brush, it was a bold look, to say the least.

If Soobin saw you looking like this, he’d probably have a heart attack.

Soobin.

In the midst of all your frantic preparation, you had nearly forgotten about the main reason why you had planned to avoid this party at all costs. With a quick glance around the room, you realized that he was nowhere to be seen. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he hadn’t shown up at all. He was never a fan of parties, anyway.

You crossed your arms over your chest and slowly slipped past the couples crowding the hallway with their limbs intertwined, mouths practically swallowing one another whole, until you reached the living room. Surprisingly, it was less crowded in here than you thought it might be. A few minglers were scattered about the room’s perimeter, but they all kept away from the center of the room, which was occupied by none other than Choi Yeonjun and all his brainless, rich-boy worshippers. You quickly scanned the group, not able to make out Soobin among them. When you realized he wasn’t there, you were partly relieved and partly disappointed. If was to be anywhere at this party, it would probably be with these guys.

With a quick turn on your heel, you planned to make your way out of the living room before Yeonjun could see you. The last thing you wanted was for the boy with a bruised ego to see you, regardless of whether or not he had been the one to invite you.

“Y/N? You came?”

Too late.

Plastering a forced grin to your face, you slowly turned to face Yeonjun, who had just called your name. He was eyeing you with slight surprise, but soon, a smirk slipped across his lips as he motioned for you to come over. You had to hold back your sigh, wishing there was some way for you to get out of this situation. It was all Jen’s fault that you had to show up in the first place. You decided you were going to demand an extra ten cents be added to your raise the next time you saw your pushy boss.

“Hey Yeonjun,” you said once you had walked over to him. “I figured I’d stop by for a minute or two, since you were kind enough to invite me.”

He smirked, glancing at a few of his friends. They shared a knowing laugh with one another, but the meaning of it was lost to you. You wanted nothing more than to get away from them, but that wasn’t an option.

“You’re too busy to go out with me to a basketball game but free enough to come to a party, huh?” He asked.

You blinked, digging your nails into your arms. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s fine, really,” He drawled, swirling his plastic cup of beer in his hand. “You didn’t think I’d be upset or anything did you? I only asked you out because I was dared to shack up with you. But I’m guessing you already knew that, since you’re so smart and all.”

Your eyes went wide, but you managed to control the rest of your expression. It was just like you had guessed—Yeonjun had invited you to the party with the sole purpose of making a scene.

If you survived the night, Jen was never going to hear the end of it.

“You’re not gonna say anything?” He asked, pushing himself to his feet. You could tell by the slight stumble in his step and his hooded eyes that he had quite a bit to drink. He took a step towards you, causing you to back up immediately. Your back hit the wall, and you placed your palms against it as Yeonjun towered over you. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I know why you’re here anyways.” He leaned forward, his lips hovering near your ear. “You’re here to see Soobin, aren’t you? Since he’s the only one here willing to waste his time on filth like you.”

Your blood boiled, and you had to clench your fists at your sides to control your anger.

“Don’t,” You seethed, “Call me that.”

“Call you what? Filth? Or sweetheart? Why, is that something good old Binnie used to call you—”

He never got to finish that sentence, because with one big burst of anger, you stomped on his toe as hard as you could with your worn-out platform sneaker.

“What the hell!” He screeched, drawing the attention of several others in the room. His outburst even caused a few of the couples to pull away from each other’s faces long enough to eavesdrop.

Before you could even say anything back, lukewarm liquid was splashed up in your face, burning your eyes and nose. You gasped, running your hands over your eyes to see Yeonjun with his now empty cup of beer pointed towards you.

“Think twice before you act out against me next time, sweetheart. Never forget your place.”

Tears of anger burned in your eyes, and you scanned the room to see several people exchanging whispers and giggles as they glanced in your direction. You pushed past Yeonjun and quickly made your way out the back door of the house, unable to stand the humiliation for a moment longer.

Soobin arrived in the living room just in time to see you leave.

He wasted no time in rushing towards Yeonjun, grabbing hold of his arm. “Yeonjun, was that Y/N?” He asked, eyes quickly taking in the puddle of alcohol on the floor and the empty cup in Yeonjun’s hand. “What happened?”

“Nothing you need to worry your pretty blue head about, Big Choi. I just put her in her place is all.”

Soobin’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean you ‘put her in her place?’”

Yeonjun laughed, giving Soobin a nonchalant pat on the back. “Just drop it, would you? It has nothing to do with you.”

“What did you say, Yeonjun?”

Yeonjun was growing irritated now. He huffed out a breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “I said it has nothing to do with you, Soobin. I know you like to hang around people like that pothead Felix, but the rest of us live in the real world, where we’d rather not waste our time with those who have no future anyways. I bet he’s the one that got you to dye your hair that god awful blue, isn’t he?”

Soobin bit the inside of his cheek. He so badly wished to rip Yeonjun to shreds then and there. If he had Felix’s courage, the cocky bastard would have been knocked to the ground ages ago. But if there was one thing Soobin was sure he could never be, it was brave. And so, despite his rage, he remained silent, his eyes practically burning a hole through Yeonjun’s chest from how intently he was glaring.

It seemed as though Yeonjun was about to say something, but his eyes landed on the bit of red that peeked through the front pocket of Soobin’s denim jacket. Before Soobin had time to defend himself, Yeonjun had reached forward and snatched it from his pocket, revealing the large paper heart—his valentine for you.

“So this is why you care so much,” Yeonjun said, laughing as his eyes scanned the glittery words that decorated the page. “You want her to be your valentine.”

“Give that back,” Soobin said quietly, his hands beginning to shake.

Yeonjun instead lifted his eyes to Soobin, gave him a sickly sweet grin, and ripped the heart straight down the middle. He let the two pieces fall from his hands to the ground, and with them Soobin’s heart went also.

“You’re really willing to try and go against me, and for what? For the sake of a girl who can’t even afford a new pair of jeans and a boy that smokes his life away in the bathroom stalls?” Yeonjun took a slow step towards Soobin, his eyes glinting with a sinister determination. “You may be rich, Soobin, but if you choose to lower yourself to their standards, you may as well be dirt poor just like they are.”

With his hands clenched into tight fists, his glasses sliding down his nose, and his heart quite literally in two pieces on the floor below him, Soobin decided that he had had enough.

“I’d much rather be associated with people who are kind and have actual depth to their character than be lumped together with a bunch of pricks like you with no real personality—because that’s something you can’t buy with daddy’s paycheck.”

He had to physically restrain himself from slapping his hand across his own mouth in shock. It was as if the spirit of Felix himself had possessed him to say such harsh things. He wondered where Felix was then, wishing more than ever before to have his best friend by his side as he began to tremble from either the rush of adrenaline that coursed through his veins, or from fear. Or perhaps it was both.

He didn’t have time to ponder it any longer before Yeonjun’s fist collided with his nose, resulting in a sickening crack as pain echoed throughout his face in tidal waves.

He stumbled backward as people began to shout, raising his hand to his nose and gasping when he saw that his palm was covered in blood. 

Beomgyu had his arms wrapped around Yeonjun, who was desperately trying to lunge towards Soobin once again.

“Knock it off, Yeonjun!” Beomgyu shouted, pushing the elder back. “His dad is on the school board! Are you trying to get expelled?”

Beomgyu looked over his shoulder at the still stunned Soobin, who was gaping at the blood that now stained his once white turtleneck. 

“Get lost, Soobin,” Beomgyu said, to which Soobin only blinked in reply, his ears ringing.

“Now!”

Head spinning, Soobin picked up the two halves of his paper heart, stuffed them into his jeans, and stumbled out the same door he had seen you go through just minutes before. After checking to make sure his glasses were still intact—they were, thankfully—he shook his head in an effort to clear his mind of the static, eyes scanning the front lawn looking for any trace of you.

It didn’t take long for his eyes to spot you among the now dwindling crowd of partygoers. Your bright pink sweater stood out against the darkness, so he was able to recognize you even with your back towards him. He sniffed, wiping the back of his hand against his dripping nose as he slowly made his way to where you sat on the curb, your feet planted on the asphalt street. He wished that he looked a bit more presentable—when he played this scene out in his head over the years in which he would finally reunite with you, he never imagined himself dazed and covered in blood.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, he supposed.

When he reached you, he simply stood beside you in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say. He could tell that you sensed his presence, but you refused to look up at him as you kept your face buried in your hands. He could have sworn he heard a few muffled sobs slip through your fingers, but of course, he wasn’t going to bring that up.

Eventually he decided to slip his jacket off of his shoulders, leaning down to drape it over you. You still kept your head down as he sat beside you on the curb, but he watched you grip the jacket and pull it tighter around your body. He smiled a bit, holding the collar of his turtleneck against his throbbing nose.

“Thank you,” you muttered, wiping your hand across your eyes. You finally looked over at him, and when you did, you couldn’t hold back your gasp. “My God Soobin, what happened to your face?”

“Oh, well, I might have gotten punched,” He said quickly, trying to wave off your concern. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Punched? By who?”

He looked down at the ground, sniffing as a drop of blood hit the pavement. “Yeonjun,” he muttered under his breath.

“I’m sorry, did you just say Yeonjun? Are you insane? Why on earth would you butt heads with the Choi Yeonjun?”

Soobin didn’t say anything in response, he simply stared at you, eyes wide with beer dripping off the ends of your hair, makeup smeared across your face, your sweater stained down the front. It didn’t seem to take long for you to put the pieces together, as the shock left your face and was replaced with something akin to guilt.

“Oh,” You said, looking back down at your shoes.

“So she knows that I did it all for her,” Soobin thought.

For some reason, the idea of that both terrified and excited him.

A second later, he glanced over to see you ripping one of the hand-sewed patches of fabric off your jeans, leaving a square of your skin exposed to the chilly night air. You leaned towards him, pushing his hand away from his nose so you could use the patch to clean up some of the blood on and around his puffy red nose.

“Y/N, your pants!” He exclaimed, trying to push your hand away. “They’re ruined!”

“I’m not worried about my pants, you idiot,” You said, swatting his hand away as you continued to press the cloth against his skin. “You got punched in the face because of me, this is the least I could do.”

“That was my choice though,” He muttered, although he stopped trying to resist your touch. He ignored the way his heart thrummed harder in his chest, hoping that you couldn’t hear.

“Well, this is my choice too.” Your eyes flicked to his for a brief moment, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. “Why did you do it, by the way?”

“Do what?”

“Stand up to Yeonjun for me and get a nasty nosebleed as a result.”

“Oh.” He blinked slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on yours. “Just ‘cause.”

“Because . . . ?”

“Because of you.” He blurted, causing your hand to go still against him. He swallowed his fear, braving the best smile that he could. “Just you. That was my only reason.”

You didn’t say anything as your hand fell from his face, the cloth clutched between your fingers. The anxiety he had tried his best to suppress came rushing up all at once, and he was surprised that his ears didn’t begin to squeal like a tea kettle from all the pressure. 

“Y/N,” He said, gently placing his hand over yours despite how his fingers trembled. “Why did you pull away from me?”

“What?”

“Four years ago. Why did you stop talking to me?”

You were quiet for a moment, digging into the ground with the toe of your sneaker. Soobin held his breath until you finally replied with, “I was afraid.”

“Afraid? Of what?”

“We were getting older, Binnie,” You said, and his heart skipped at the use of your old nickname for him. “You and I, we’re from very different walks of life. You get to hang out with people like Yeonjun, whereas I get a cup of beer poured all over my face just for existing, and you get a fist to the nose for trying to stand up for me. We’re from different sides of the track, one might say.”

“So?” Soobin asked, his hand tightening around yours. “Did you really think that would affect us that much, Y/N?”

You frowned, glancing down at his hand over yours.

“I thought you’d be embarrassed of me,” You said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Embarrassed?” Soobin’s eyes went wide as he gripped your hand tighter still, pulling it into his lap. “Y/N, I would never, ever be embarrassed of you. Besides, have you seen my best friend? He’s on a first name basis with the principal because of how often he gets written up for smoking behind the school. If I’m not embarrassed of him, why would I ever be embarrassed of you?”

You laughed, wiping the back of your hand across your eyes once more. “I guess I was worried about nothing, huh?” You sniffed, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry, Soobin.”

He shook his head, squeezing your hand right back. “Don’t apologize. You’re here now, that’s what matters. Do think we could—you know—”

“Pick up where we left off?” You smiled, nodding vigorously. “I’d like that very much, Binnie.”

He beamed then, almost pinching himself to be sure that he was not dreaming, but the pain in his nose was real enough to remind him of that on its own. He jumped to his feet, pulling you right up with him.

“In that case, how about we finally go on that Valentine’s date I had planned all the way back then?”

“Date?” You asked, a brow raised. “Is it really considered a date if two friends are just hanging out?”

He didn’t respond as he pulled you along behind him towards the bushes where he and Felix had hidden his bike. He crouched down and moved the branches aside, feeling his heart drop to his stomach when he realized that his bike was, in fact, no longer there.

He shot up, turning to face you with eyes wide. “Felix—that bastard took my bike!”

You were quiet for a moment, but then, you burst into boisterous laughter, leaving Soobin utterly confused.

“It’s not funny, Y/N!” He whined, shoving your shoulder lightly. “I was supposed to take you to the Dairy Shack on my bike!”

“It is funny,” You said between bursts of laughter. “Only you would get such a rusty old piece of metal stolen from you.”

He pushed his lips out in a pout, sliding his glasses up his sore nose. “It’s a good bike, don’t make fun of it.”

You grinned, interlocking his fingers with yours, which was enough to instantly wipe the pout right off his face. 

“Let’s just walk, Binnie. The Dairy Shack isn’t that far anyways.”

You were right; the walk to your favorite milkshake place was very close to the house where the party had occurred. Although Felix stealing his bike had thrown an obvious wrench in his plans, it was a minor hiccup, and one he could most definitely handle. Besides, he wouldn’t have to see Felix until the next day anyways. He could deal with his frustration then.

At least, that’s what he thought anyways, until the two of you spotted Felix at the skatepark on your way to the dairy shack.

Soobin’s eyes took in the deplorable sight before him—from where he stood on the dimly lit sidewalk, he could see Felix and a girl he had never seen before, their faces nearly pressed together, and most importantly, with his bike discarded a few yards away from them.

“Soobin,” You said, tugging on his arm. “They look like they’re busy, let’s just go—”

But Soobin, who had little patience when it came to Felix messing up his plans, didn’t let you finish before he screamed, “Give me back my freaking bike!”

You had to hold back your snort of laughter at his choice of words. Even when he was trying to sound angry, he was undeniably adorable.

Soobin watched as Felix startled, clutching his spliff between his fingers as he glared daggers back at his friend. Soobin gulped, trying not to let his fear show on his face. What did he have to be afraid of, anyways? He was the victim of thievery, and his best friend was the offender.

Felix took a big step towards him, but he paused, his eyes landing on your interlocked hands. Soobin glanced down as well, his face growing furiously warm as he realized the situation he had gotten himself into. 

He decided to divert the subject before it could even be brought up by saying, “I can’t believe you stole my bike! All this time I was trying to hide it from strangers, but you, my best friend! I should’ve been hiding it from you!”

Soobin noticed Felix’s female companion step off the skateboard and walk over in his direction, and for a second he felt bad for possibly ruining her night with his best friend. However, his frustration was more prominent in the moment as he fixed his gaze back on his best friend, who had fixed a mischievous smirk upon his face that made warning sirens blare in Soobin’s head right away.

“Now, now, buddy,” Felix said, his voice calm and carefree as ever. It probably had something to do with what he had just smoked, but Soobin didn’t care all that much. “You’re just gonna have to let me borrow it for a little longer.”

Soobin nearly laughed at the audacity of such a statement. “You are gonna give me the bike, or—”

“How about this, Soobs?” Soobin’s lips clamped shut at his friend’s interruption, as the thief in question gestured with his joint to where Soobin’s fingers were locked with yours. “You let me keep your bike for the night, and I don’t tell your dad about you hanging out with the opposite gender.”

Unable to control yourself, you let out a big laugh. Soobin would have felt betrayed, but he was more terrified than anything else at the idea of his father finding out that he was taking a girl out without his permission. He would be grounded for weeks—no, months.

“You wouldn’t.”

Felix’s lips curled up even more into a twisted grin that Soobin wished he had the guts to slap off his face. “God, just imagine the look on Mr. Choi’s face. Imagine him finding out about your premarital hand holding.”

No. Not the hand holding.

Soobin almost felt faint, but he steeled himself to the best of his abilities as he cleared his throat. “One night, Lix,” he warned. “If I don’t see it on my porch in the morning, you’ll be sorry!”

“Oh, I’m so scared,” Felix teased. His expression changed a moment later though, when he finally noticed Soobin’s swollen nose and blood-stained turtleneck. “Wait, Soobs, the hell happened to you?”

Soobin, however, had already taken his first steps away from the skatepark, pulling you along behind him. “I’ll tell you later, bud. Enjoy your spliff with that kind girl who you probably don’t deserve!”

“Hey!”

Soobin couldn’t help but laugh as he swung your interlocked hands together, grinning as you let out a laugh as well. The anger that had seeped through him seemed to melt away in an instant as the two of you continued your journey to the Dairy Shack.

“Would your dad really be that upset if he found out about this?” You asked.

Soobin grimaced. “We should probably wait til next year to tell him about this outing. Or maybe the year after that.”

When the two of you had finally reached the Dairy Shack, you waited outside for him while he went in to order your drink. A large chocolate milkshake, with two straws, just like you used to get every time before.

When he had the drink in hand, he walked back outside and sat down beside you on the curb, smiling as you wrapped his jacket tighter around your shoulders. You smiled back up at him, your eyes creasing from the expression. Your smile had always struck him right to his core; he had missed seeing it every day.

He hoped he could see it every morning and every night from that day onward. There was no way he would let you go this time.

He just had to muster up the courage to grab hold of you first.

“You know what, Binnie, you turned out to be a lot taller than I thought you ever would be,” you said as you took one of the straws from his hands. “You’re actually enormous. It’s shocking.”

“Should I find that offensive? It sounds kinda like an insult.”

“Take it however you will,” You teased, leaning over as he popped the plastic lid off the milkshake. He grabbed the cherry by the stem and held it towards you.

“What are you doing?” You asked, holding out your fist. “We have to rock, paper, scissors for it. Remember?”

Soobin laughed as he shook his head. “I’m giving it to you this time. It’s what I planned to do all those years ago, when I asked you to hang out on Valentine’s.”

You seemed to be taken aback, but you simply shrugged as you plucked the cherry from his hand and pulled it from the stem with your teeth, glancing back over at him. It was silent for a moment, but then your eyes landed on the pocket of his jeans, where you could see a bit of red paper poking out. You leaned over even further, reaching your hand out to snatch the paper.

“What are you—hey! Give that back!”

Soobin desperately tried to take his Valentine back from you, but it was too late. You held both halves of what used to be a whole in your hands, your eyes scanning the words as you pieced them together.

“Soobin . . .”

He held his breath. Had his act of young love left you completely speechless? Were you so touched that you would burst into tears?

“This looks like a middle schooler made it.”

He let out the breath in the form of a long, long sigh.

“That’s because it was made by a middle schooler,” He said as he set the milkshake down beside him. “I made it back in the eighth grade. I planned to give it to you that Valentine’s.”

“Oh.” You ran your finger along the card’s surface, the smallest smile creeping across your lips. “Well in that case, it’s not half bad. Why’s it ripped though?”

“Ah—well, Yeonjun . . .”

You nodded, taking another glance at his swollen nose. “No need to elaborate. It seems you had a lot planned for our Valentine’s Day back then. Is there anything else you wanted to do?”

His mouth went dry at that, and he wished that you couldn’t see his face because he was sure that his expression was quite comical. All the way back then, four years prior, he had in fact planned the perfect, ideal day in his head. Picking you up on his bike, giving you the cherry from his milkshake, and presenting you with his hand made card.

There was only one thing left on his list.

He didn’t move at first, willing himself to have enough courage to even look back in your direction. But when he finally did allow his eyes to meet yours, he felt his shoulders relax and his heart rate became more manageable.

He took a deep breath, leaned forward, and pressed his lips against your cheek.

He lingered there for only a moment before he pulled back, daring to pry one of his eyes open to take in the look on your face.

The disappointment was palpable—from the way your brows furrowed together and the way you pursed your lips. His stomach dropped, and he scooted the tiniest bit away from you.

“I’m sorry,” He blurt out, his face growing warmer by the second. “I shouldn’t have done that, I just—”

“Is that all?”

Your question stopped him mid-ramble, his eyes growing wide. “Huh?”

“Is that all?” You repeated, closing the distance between you that he had created. “It’s Valentine’s Day, Soobin. I think we can do better than a peck on the cheek.”

The implications of what you were saying didn’t register with him right away, but when it finally did, he could have sworn his heart began to beat loud enough for the entire town to hear. His hand curled into a fist as he gripped the denim of his jeans. He leaned forward, keeping his eyes open just enough to watch you as he brought his lips closer to yours. He could feel your eyes on him all the while, causing his heart to pound fiercer still within him.

When he was just a breath away, he whispered, “Can you close your eyes?”

“Hm?”

He lifted his hand, gently placing it over your eyes. He leaned closer then, filling the space between you both as his lips met yours. You tasted vaguely of cherry and strawberry slice soda, and he found it quite nice the way his lips seemed to fit perfectly against your own. As the seconds drew on, your hands slipped around his neck, pulling him closer. He slowly let his hand fall from your eyes, tracing lines with the tips of his fingers down your cheek before he cradled your jaw, letting his lips part just enough to taste the sweet sugar on your lips once more.

He thought in a haze that it was a good thing he didn’t drink anything at the party, as kissing you was proving to be intoxicating enough on its own.

When you finally pulled away, leaving your forehead resting against his, he let his eyes flutter open enough to see the euphoric smile that adorned your features. He grinned as well, gently running his thumb against your cheek.

“I think that back then, I had planned to ask you this before kissing you,” He whispered, “But Y/N, will you be my Valentine?”

Instead of a spoken answer, you laughed, leaning forward to capture his lips with yours once again, and that was the only answer Choi Soobin would ever need.

-

WHEN SOOBIN ARRIVED HOME THAT NIGHT, HE WENT STRAIGHT FOR THE TELEPHONE.

It was kept upstairs at night right outside his parent’s door, to keep himself and his brother from using it in the late hours. Of course, this never stopped Soobin from sneaking it downstairs to his room in the basement to make late night calls to Felix.

And that particular evening, he really needed to give Felix an update.

He grabbed the phone from the small table in the hallway, carefully tiptoeing towards the basement stairs. Before he had even taken the first step down, the bathroom door creaked open. Soobin whipped his head around to see his brother Kai standing there, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he raised a brow at his older brother.

Soobin froze, blinking slowly as he realized the incriminating situation he found himself in.

“Please don’t tell mom,” He whispered, his eyes pleading with his younger brother.

Kai nodded, although Soobin wasn’t quite convinced that the boy was even coherent enough to understand what was going on. Soobin offered a rushed thank you, and ventured his first step down the stairs.

Well, he tried, anyways, and ended up missing the first step. He tumbled down the rest of the stairs, landing on his butt at the very end.

He winced in pain, glad to see that the phone was still intact in his hands. He glanced over his shoulders to see Kai staring down the stairway with wide eyes, his lips parted in shock. Soobin quickly put a finger to his lips, begging his brother for silence.

Kai simply shook his head and walked away, allowing Soobin the freedom to breathe out a sigh of relief.

He quickly ran to his bedroom and shut the door, collapsing onto his bed with the phone as his breaths came in ragged gasps as an aftereffect from his tumble down the stairs. He figured he should have dialed Felix’s number right away, but he couldn’t help but brush his fingers against his lips, remembering the feeling and taste of having yours pressed against them.

He was so caught up in his daze that he didn’t notice Felix calling until the third ring.

He picked it up, breathing heavily into the speaker as he rubbed a sore spot on his lower back. 

“Please tell me that panting is from running a marathon, and not what I think you’ve successfully tried.”

Soobin nearly gagged, holding the phone away from his face as he coughed, flustered by his friend's crude words. He brought the phone back to his face and said, “No, you sicko, I just fell down the stairs.”

“How the hell did you manage that with those long legs?”

“That’s not important, Lix!” He laid back onto his pillows then, twirling the phone cord in his hands as he stared up at his ceiling, the memories of his adventure with you that night flooding his mind once more. He couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear as he said, “Look, I need to tell you something important.”

If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought that he could hear the smile in Felix’s voice too as his friend replied.

“Well buddy, I got something to tell you too.”

[blackspoon99]

The Sign of Three Pt. 3

Sherlock x Female! Reader

TW: Drinking, Language, Potential Emetophobia (If you’ve seen this episode, you know), Spoilers to Season 3

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4

Part 5

“Of course, there’s hours of material here, but I’ve cut it down to the really good bits.”

Oh god, the stag night. You almost laughed just thinking about it. It was unbelievable that Sherlock was willingly telling this story to an audience. You were fortunate enough to witness some of the events of the night firsthand.

The story began the morning of in Baker Street, 11 am:

It was a Saturday morning, and you were over having tea with Sherlock. For the two of you, “having tea” consisted of you both reading in complete silence while you happened to be drinking tea. It was a common occurrence, and for you, it was a treasured tradition. You were curled up in John’s chair opposite Sherlock. Today, you were reading Emma by Jane Austen. You peeked over at Sherlock to see what he was reading. Sherlock was reading a book titled “Atlas of Forensic Pathology”. Riveting. The book looked so heavy; it would probably go straight through the floor if he dropped it.

You returned to your book. This was probably your third time reading the Jane Austen classic. You were inexplicably drawn to the plot, the message, the love story, all of it. You finally were at your favorite part. When Mr. Knightly said to Emma, “If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.” You looked at Sherlock over the pages of your book. You couldn’t help but consider the relevance of the quote in your own life.

When you first came to terms with the fact that you were in love with Sherlock, the feeling had burned through you. You couldn’t focus and constantly fought the urge to tell him. Possibly because of the several near-death experiences you'd had. After you made up with Sherlock at the engagement party, the feeling persisted but it was almost duller, easier to live with. You’d slowly regained security in Sherlock’s role in your life and you no longer constantly worried he’d leave again. You returned to your version of mundane and your unrequited feelings for Sherlock became the new normal. It had become more of a consistent ache than a burn.

Sherlock interrupted your thoughts: “Shouldn’t it be relatively easy to find a new book to read if you work in a bookstore?”

“True, but I like this one,” you said without looking up from your book.

“Why? What do you gain from reading a convoluted story of questionable morals that provides no useful information?”

You finally put your book down. “Because, I like to read for fun. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

Sherlock smiled and scoffed at you then returned to his book.

You shook your head and downed the rest of your tea. “Okay, I’ve got to go to work.” You got up and took your mug to the kitchen. On your way back to gather your things, you noticed an open file on the kitchen table that looked like a John Watson scrapbook. You pulled the first paper off the stack to see a cutout of John’s head pasted onto the Vitruvian Man. “Sherlock?” you called over your shoulder, “What’s this file for?”

“What file?” He asked.

You picked up the file and carried it back to the living room. You returned to your seat and started thumbing through it.

“Oh. That’s for the stag night,” said Sherlock.

“Stag night? I didn’t think you would want to do that sort of thing”

“Why not?” He swiftly closed his book. If you didn’t know better, you’d take the action as a sign of offense.

“Uh, no reason,” you said hastily. The file was full of peer-reviewed studies on alcohol consumption, detailed chemistry notes, and copies of John’s medical records. The last page was a detailed schedule of where they were going and how much they were going to drink every hour. “This is awfully thorough.”

“I needed to ensure the maximum amount of enjoyment for the both of us for the duration of the night.”

“How considerate of you.” You put the file down and leaned forward. “So, what do you have planned?”

“John and I will be drinking at a pub on every street we ever found a corpse.”

“That is oddly perfect for the both of you.”

“I thought so,” Sherlock said with a grin.

You looked at the time. If you didn’t leave now, you’d be late. “Well, I’m off. See you later, Sherlock.”

“Yes, yes, goodbye,” he mumbled and returned to reading. You left the file on the table, gathered your belongings, and left for your shift. 

---------------------------------

Later that evening:

You closed the bookshop at 8 pm and headed to the tube station. As you made your way through the crowded streets, you heard your phone ringing. You dug through your bag to find it as you walked. You saw Sherlock’s name on the caller ID and answered it. Your ears were immediately assaulted by electronic dance music.

You heard Sherlock’s voice first “Shut up John, I’m calling her.” He shouted over the music

“Who?” you then recognized John’s voice.

“Her John, I’m calling her!”

You struggled to hear the call over the booming music “Hello?? Sherlock? Why are you calling me?”

“Oh! It’s y/n! Hello!” John shouted into the phone. You winced at the volume.

“John? Where are you? Are you drunk?”

“Stag night! Sherlock tried to measure my piss. Then he got into a fight.”

“Give me that back” Sherlock’s voice “Y/n meet us back at Baker Street. It’s an ‘mergency”

“What did you say? Sherlock? It’s really hard to hear,”

“Baker Street. Now!” He shouted then hung up.

For a moment, you stood in the street, dumbfounded. It was only 8 pm and both Sherlock and John were piss drunk at some club. You couldn’t even begin to process the rest of the information. So much for Sherlock’s plan, although it did seem like they had “maximized their enjoyment”. You weren’t about to miss this.

——————————

You arrived at Baker Street by 8:30 pm. You opened the door to find Sherlock and John laying across the bottom of the stairs. “Hello boys, I’m here.” You announced.

At the sound of your voice, Sherlock and John scrambled to sit upright. Sherlock fell down a step in the process. You tried your best to suppress your laughter. “So, I’m here. What’s the emergency, Sherlock?”

“Right, you,” He said, raising his arm to point at you. “Upstairs.”

You watched Sherlock and John slowly stand up. John lifted one foot to climb the stairs, then stumbled backward.

“Do you need help, John?” You asked.

“Nah,” he said, “‘s alright, I’m fine. I can do it myself.”  

You slowly helped Sherlock and John up and into the flat. Sherlock tried to take off his coat, but his arms got stuck behind him. You giggled and gently pulled his coat off him and hung it on the coat rack. You lead Sherlock over to his chair and he flopped down into it.

You went into the kitchen to get some water for him and John. You figured they’d need it. You searched the cabinets, but there wasn’t a clean glass in sight. You resorted to the clean beakers on the countertops instead. You poured two 250mL beakers most of the way with water and walked them back into the living room. When you returned, Sherlock was sitting in his chair. He was drinking from a glass of scotch.

“Sherlock,” you groaned. “Where did you get that?” You attempted to reach for the glass, but he pulled his hand away, spilling it all over himself.

“It’s okay, this is fine,” he said, staring at his scotch-soaked shirt. “Oh,” he started. “I almost forgot,” Sherlock leaned over the side of his chair to grab something off the floor “You left this,” Sherlock said and handed you your copy of Emma. You hadn’t even realized it was gone.

“That was the emergency?”

“I still don’t understand how you could read this 3 times,” Sherlock slurred. “It’s so- what’s the word? Incorrect? ‘There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart.’ What an absurd thing to say” He contorted his face into an expression of disgust and took a sip of scotch from the glass in his hand.

“You read it? Today?” The fact that Sherlock had gone out of his way to read your favorite book made you unnaturally happy. You knew not to read into the things with Sherlock, but sometimes you couldn’t help yourself.

“You left it behind and I was so bored. Besides, I had to understand why you liked it so much. I still don’t know.”

You leaned over and snatched the glass of scotch from him. “I don’t think that’s the best idea, do you?” You handed him the beaker of water.

“Thank you,” he said with a goofy grin. In all the years you’d known Sherlock, you had never seen him like this. It was odd to say the least yet decidedly hilarious.

“Where’s John?”

Sherlock didn’t answer but pointed in the general direction of the bathroom. You decided to take the seat opposite Sherlock. As you sat down, Sherlock put his water on the floor. He then leaned forward and put his head in his hands, staring at you.

“What are you doing, Sherlock?” you asked.

“You,” he said, pointing at your face “are so hard to figure out sometimes, you know that?”

“Me?”

“It’s soooooo annoying. I can tell what almost everyone is thinking all the time, but not always you.”

“You think I’m hard to read?”

“Yes, you. Y/n L/n.” He waved his hands around while he slightly slurred his words.

“Okay then, how about this: I tell you what I’m thinking right now, and you do the same. Then, for one moment, we can understand each other completely.”

Sherlock furrowed his brow “You first.”

“I’m thinking… that I’m glad you called me.” Sherlock smiled and nodded. You giggled, “Now it’s your turn, and don’t lie to me. What are you thinking in this moment?”

Sherlock paused. “I’m thinking that my shirt’s all wet,” he said with a slight frown.

“That’s your own fault,” you said, putting one hand over your mouth to contain your laughter.

John re-entered the room holding post-it notes and a sharpie. “I’ve just had the best idea,” he said with a sloppy grin.

-----------------------------

The three of you all had post-its stuck to your foreheads, each with names written down. John sat in the client’s seat with the name MADONNA scribbled on the piece of paper stuck to his forehead. Sherlock, much to your enjoyment, had SHERLOCK HOLMES sloppily written on his forehead. As per the game, you had no idea what was written on yours. Sherlock was lounging back in his chair, resting his head on his hand.

“Am I a vegetable?” asked John

“You? Or the thing?” Sherlock asked smiling. The two of them snickered.

“Funny!” said John.

Sherlock looked down and smiled. “Thank you,” he choked out.

“To answer your question, John, no,” you said.

“Your go, Sherlock,” said John.

“Erm…. am I human?” he asked, turning to you.

“Sometimes,” you said with a smirk.

“No, no, it can’t be sometimes, can’t have that…”

“Fine. Yes, you’re human” you confirmed. “My turn. Am I a man?”

“Yeeep” answered John. “Sherlock, you again,” John said, forgetting it was his turn.

“Am I a man?”

John nodded. Sherlock kept going. “Am I a tall man?”

John looked at you and started laughing before he even spoke “Mm, not as tall as people think.” John’s head flopped to the side as he let out a hiccup

“Nice?”

“Ishh,” John said skeptically.

“Clever?”

“I’d say so,” you interjected.

“Do people…” he made air quotes as he spoke the word ‘people’ “... like me?”

“Not really,” you said, chuckling “You tend to rub them the wrong way.” If you had to babysit your adult drunk friends, you might as well have some fun.

“Hm,” Sherlock nodded intently. “Am I the current King of England?”

You and John immediately burst into laughter. “Good guess, Sherlock. But you do know England doesn’t have a king?” 

“Don’t we?”

“No,” John said. “Y/n, you go now”

“Right, okay. Am I a friend of ours?”

“Ehh, yes?” Sherlock said.

“Yes, yes they are Sherlock,” said John “Jesus.”

“Well, that narrows it down significantly. Am I Greg?”

“Who’s Greg?” Sherlock asked.

You rolled your eyes and took the post-it off your forehead. The name ���Gavin” was written on it in Sherlock’s handwriting. Of course.

“Hey!” Sherlock yelled, “Cheater, that’s cheating. John, did you see that? Y/n’s cheating.” Sherlock got up and took the post-it from your hand. He leaned forward and stuck it back on your forehead. “There. Now it’s John’s turn.”

“Am I a woman?” asked John. He slumped in his seat. Sherlock immediately started giggling. “What?” John asked.

“Yes,” confirmed Sherlock

“Am I a pretty woman?”

“Er, beauty is a construct based entirely on childhood impressions, influences, and role models.”

“But am I pretty?” John asked again.

“Yeah, Sherlock? Is John a pretty woman?”

“I don’t know who you are. I don’t know who you’re supposed to be.”

“What?! You picked the name,” John said.

“Ah, but I picked it at random from the papers,” Sherlock said, flailing his arm over to the stack of newspapers in the corner.

“I don’t think you understand the point of this game, Sherlock,” you added.

“So, I am human, I’m not as tall as people think I am ... I’m-I’m nice-ish ... clever, but I tend to rub them up the wrong way.”

“That’s correct,” said John.

“I’m you, aren’t I?” Sherlock asked, pointing to John.

“Ooh-ooh!” Mrs. Hudson chirped as she knocked on the door. “Client!” Behind Mrs. Hudson was a woman wearing a nurse’s outfit with a cardigan over it. You scrambled to take the post-it off your forehead as you stood up.

“Hello, I’m sorry, but this really isn’t a good time—”

Sherlock immediately stood up and interrupted you. “It’s not a bad time, no, no Y/n. We always help a person in need.”

“Do we?” you said with a forced smile and looked over at John for help. John just stared back blankly at you with a goofy drunken smile.

The woman beamed “Thank you,” she said. “Which one of you is Sherlock Holmes?”

John imitated a slide whistle, and pointed to Sherlock’s post-it on his forehead. Sherlock flashed a wide toothy grin. You put your head in your hands in defeat.

----------------------------------------------------------------

A few moments later, you’d made the woman, Tessa, some tea, and you John and Sherlock were sitting on the couch. Sherlock was sat in between you and John. Tessa sat in a chair opposite the three of you.

“I don’t ... a lot ... I mean, I don’t ... date all that much ... and ... he seemed ... nice, you know?”

You looked over at Sherlock and John hoping they could keep it together. John was blinking slowly and heavily while trying to stay awake. Sherlock was listening to Tessa’s story intently.

She continued. “We seemed to automatically connect. We had one night – dinner, such interesting conversation. It was ... lovely. To be honest, I’d love to have gone further ...”

Beside you, Sherlock closed his eyes and began to lean into your shoulder, dozing off. You subtly elbowed him, and he straightened up abruptly.

“But I thought, no, this is special. Let’s take it slowly, exchange numbers. He said he’d get in touch and then ... Maybe he wasn’t quite as keen as I was ...”

You looked over at John who was practically asleep with his eyes open. He had a blank stare and his mouth hung slightly open.

“But I – I just thought ... at least he’d call to say that we were finished,” Tessa concluded, tearing up slightly and looking at the floor. Immediately, Sherlock’s face contorted into an expression of sympathy as he dramatically brought his hand to his mouth. You stared in disbelief and handed Tessa a tissue. “Thank you,” she said to you. “I went round there, to his flat. No trace of him. Mr. Holmes…”

Sherlock leaned forward and rested his head on his hands.

“I honestly think I had dinner ... with a ghost.”

You and Tessa waited to hear what Sherlock had to say. You leaned forward to look at Sherlock and John’s faces only to discover they had both fallen asleep.

“With a ghost, Mr. Holmes!” Tessa repeated, louder.

You sharply elbowed Sherlock in the ribs much harder than before, and he sprung awake. “Boring, boring, boring,” he mumbled, then turned to you and put his hands on either side of your head. “No! fascinating!” He exclaimed, his face right up close to yours. Sherlock then turned to John “John – John! Wake up!” John finally stirred awake.

“I’m up,” he mumbled.

“Apologies about my ... you know ... thing,” Sherlock said, pointing at John. “Rude. Rude!” he yelled straight into your ear. You grimaced at the loud noise and put your hand on Sherlock’s forearm to settle him.

“Yes, that’s enough, Sherlock,” you whispered. “Uhm, go on, Tessa.”

“I checked with the landlord, and the man who lived there died. Heart attack. And there we are, having dinner one week on.” She turned and began to rummage through her purse. She pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper and handed it to Sherlock. You grabbed it before he could take it. It was a print-out of an online chatroom. “And I found this thing online, sort of chatroom thing for girls who think they’re dating men from the spirit world.”

You nodded. This actually seemed like a decent case. Too bad Sherlock and John probably wouldn’t remember one word of it tomorrow. Sherlock tried to stand up next to you, wobbled, and then put one hand on the top of your head to steady himself. You groaned and struggled to untangle his hand from your hair.

“Don’t worry. I’ll find him in ten minutes,” Sherlock said confidently. Tessa smiled in relief. “What’s your dog’s name?”

You facepalmed and stood up next to Sherlock. He leaned over to wake up John. “John! Wake up! We’re meant to ... The game’s ... something” he said, waving his hand around.

“On!” yelled John.

“Yes, that,” Sherlock said, walking out the door. “Come on, Y/n.”

“Wait, Sherlock. Where are you going?” You protested, following him down the stairs.

“That’s a good question. Where are we going?” he asked Tessa in the foyer.

“Oh! Well, I suppose we ought to go to his flat,” Tessa said.

“Sherlock, no,” you said, “You can’t leave...” you looked off the the side awkwardly “…like this.” He ignored you and dragged John out to the sidewalk by his sweater sleeve. He stepped out into the street and hailed down a cab.

“40a, Jasmine Grove,” interjected Tessa as the cab pulled up.

“Are you coming Y/n?” Sherlock slurred.

“No!” you yelled. “And neither are you.” Before you could reach him, Sherlock climbed into the cab after John and Tessa and slammed the cab door in your face. The car drove off. 

“Come on, really?!” you yelled in frustration. Now you had to follow them. You ran to the edge of the sidewalk and decided to call a cab for yourself.

--------------------------------------------------------

You finally made it to the apartment to see Tessa and a man you presumed to be the landlord standing by the door. It was a rather modern apartment with exposed brick and abstract furniture. John was standing in the corner with his hands crossed over his chest and his lips pursed. He was swaying slightly, trying to keep his balance. You pushed past the landlord to see Sherlock kneeling on a shag carpet holding his pocket magnifier. As soon as you walked in, he face-planted into the carpet and passed out.

“He’s clueing for looks” John announced, proudly.

“Oh god,” you said, scrambling over to Sherlock. You grabbed his upper arm and tried to pull him up. God, he was heavy. 

“That’s it, I’m calling the police.” The landlord pulled out his cell phone.

“No, no, please, that won’t be necessary,” you protested.

“This is a famous detective. It’s Sherlock Holmes and his partner, John Hamish Watson,” Tessa clarified.

You finally managed to get Sherlock to straighten up. “When did you get here?” Sherlock asked, looking up at you. Then, he bent over and immediately threw up on the carpet.

“Ugh why?” you groaned and plugged your nose. Sherlock wiped his mouth on his sleeve and then clicked his magnifier shut.

------------------------------------------------------

The next morning…

The landlord had called the police and the night ended with you watching Sherlock and John being driven away in the back of a police car. You’d immediately called Greg hoping he’d let them go. Greg had said the best he could do was try and let them off with a warning if they spent the night in the drunk tank. When the station opened, Greg sent you a photo of Sherlock and John asleep in a cell with the caption “Come and get ‘em!”

You walked into Scotland Yard and Greg was there to meet you. “Thank you, Greg,” you said, handing him one of the 4 coffees you’d brought.

“God, what on earth happened to them?” Greg asked, taking a sip from the coffee you gave him.

“Stag night got a bit out of hand,” you said. “Afraid I lost control of the situation.”  

“You can say that again,” agreed Greg as the two of you walked through the station to the drunk tank.

“Rise and Shine!” Greg bellowed as he swung open the door. John was awake and sitting on the floor. He had his hands on his head while Sherlock was still fast asleep on the bench.

“Oh my god,” John said, grimacing in pain. “Is that Greg?”

“Get up,” he said “Y/n’s come to collect you. Managed to square things with the desk sergeant.” John painfully and slowly got up. “What a couple of lightweights! Y/n said you couldn’t even make it to closing time!”

“Yeah, could you whisper?” John asked.

“NOT REALLY!” Greg shouted straight into his ear. Across the cell, Sherlock jolted awake, mouth wide open in shock. He tried to stand up, then fell backward back onto the bench. You walked over and helped him up.

“There you go, Sherlock. Nice and easy,” you said quietly and handed him one of the coffees. He took it and stumbled out of the cell, head down. He looked like hell, not to mention the way he smelled. You caught up to John and handed him one of the remaining coffees, leaving the last for yourself. You took a sip of your coffee and continued down the hall. 

“Well, thanks for a ... you know ... an evening,” John said to Sherlock.

“Oh, it was awful,” Sherlock said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I was gonna pretend, but it was, truly,” said John. He then turned to you. “Y/n, I am so sorry, that was—”

“It’s okay, I had fun,” you said with a smile.

“At least someone did,” said Sherlock. “That woman, Tessa, dated a ghost. The most interesting case for months. What a wasted opportunity.”

“Really? That’s your takeaway from this?” you asked. He shrugged. “Come on, boys, let’s get you home.” 

A/N: Stag night! I love this part of the episode, so I hope I did it justice. Funny story. When I was writing this, I was trying to find real book titles for Sherlock to read and I came across a real book titled “Surrounded by Idiots” I wanted to use it in the story SO BAD but it was so perfect, that it sounded cheesy and made up lmao. I’m 100% certain Sherlock would have it in his bookcase though. 

Taglist: @the-chaotic-cow @amoeebaa @scorpios-echos @sad-bitch-h0ur @drifting-away-in-space @that-thing-in-the-graveyard 

[qslovebot]

Nobody: Spencer Reid

Summary: After an accident on a case, the reader is left with trauma and anxiety. A miscommunication between her and the person she needs most (Spencer Reid) begins to eat her alive and he just so happens to be the only one there when she breaks again.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings/Includes: mentions of kissing, mentions of traumatizing events (not specified), depictions of anxiety, fluff, miscommunication, angst to fluff

A/N: The song is Nobody by Mitski. Read with this for the ultimate experience.

Sometimes things felt too literal. Words start to sound weird and feel weird when you say them, clothes feel too much like clothes against your skin, the texture of any food in your mouth becomes too prevalent while eating.

These things started happening after you witnessed and endured something awful on a case. You wouldn't dare bring up the full memory in case it took over and killed you all over again. It wasn't PTSD, but it was the cause of your anxiety attacks most of the time when they occurred.

After that case, you spent a week in the hospital where they happened nearly every day and the doctors weren't much help, to be frank. The only people who really ever helped were your friends and the person you were so close to dating, Spencer Reid.

It was a long story. To dumb it down, the case event happened and you and Spencer thought you were about to die so he confessed his feelings for you and of course they were reciprocated. He asked, then and there through stuttering words, 'If we make it out of here please go out with me?" As his last bit of hope, and he kissed you before you were taken away by the unsub. He didn't endure nearly as much as you did which was why he wasn't as affected. But you had said 'yes' to that question and three weeks later, you still hadn't talked about it.

When the anxiety attacks happened, you often felt like you couldn't breathe, like the walls were pressing in on you. Sometimes you'd be with JJ when it happened. She would immediately ask you what you needed and often that would just be a hug.

Emily witnessed one at your house when she came over to check on you. She rushed over, caring voice and soft hands and told you to put your head between your knees, stroking your hair until you felt better.

Penelope made the 30-minute drive from her house every Friday night she wasn't working on a case to bring you dinner she had made and chat with you about anything you wanted.

Your friends cared for you, it was so prevalent. It was almost always that fact that was getting you through this as you continued to get better. You would return to work in two weeks because now the anxiety attacks were only once in a while and better controlled by you and Spencer still hadn't spoken to you since.

It was now nearly two weeks later. You would go back to work on Monday.

"He did come to visit you in the hospital before you woke up," Penelope said, stirring her cup of ramen. It was just another Friday and she sat across from you in your chair, cross-legged. "I don't know what's up with him if he isn't speaking to you, he seems fine at work."

You sighed, swallowing your bite. "I'm just scared that he regrets what he said and did before I was dragged away. It was those words and that kiss that got me through what the unsub did and I keep thinking about it and him..."

"It was romantic," she noted, waving her chopstick in the air. "I think you should call him, rather than just text him. It'll catch him off-guard and in-the-moment."

"Now?"

"Yes, so I can listen!"

You smiled a little, pulling out your phone as your heart began to race. What if he did pick up? What if it was awkward? What if he somehow didn't remember?

You pressed on his name, then pressed call. It began to hum quietly with pending rings. One ring, two, then five, then seven, then there was a small beep.

'You've reached Dr. Spencer Reid, uh, leave a message,' his voice said through the machine, still as sweet and youthfully scratchy. You bit your lip and nodded.

"I should have known that he didn't want to talk. Penelope, I can't stop thinking about him and he keeps ignoring my calls and I'm... frankly I'm afraid that nothing will ever happen and he'll ignore me forever."

Penelope cringed, "(Y/N), uh... there's... it's gone to voicemail and you're recording."

"Shit!" You panicked, looking at your phone. "How do I stop it?!"

"The red button!"

"That's the end call button I-" you pressed it by accident. Oh my god, the message went through. You just sat there with Penelope, both of you frozen in shock. That did not just happen... did it really just happen? Your one moment of self-pity and worry was one moment that Spencer would hear if he touched his phone on a Friday night.

The rest of the night was spent with you fighting off panic, pacing your room. Penelope agreed to stay overnight, but you could not handle the fact Spencer would hear what you said. It was humiliating to think about him hearing you stress over something like that.

This is what nagged at you all weekend, threatening the impending anxiety that was building up. Every second was agony, spent pacing and overthinking. Sleep was hard to get, so you took melatonin and your dreams taunted you with it all over again.

Monday morning you rushed to get dressed. You needed to see Spencer, no matter how hard it was to face him. You pulled on dress pants and a navy blue cotton v-neck shirt with bell sleeves. Laundry was forgotten through two days of panic, so this was pretty much the only shirt you had.

You brushed through your hair and applied your regular makeup and there, you were presentable and didn't look like you'd lost your mind over the weekend. You were going back, finally. It was somewhat refreshing if you dismissed the Spencer ordeal.

The drive there was fine. Music helped to calm you down and you listened as long as you could. Stepping into the BAU was different, it felt like you were being crushed the moment you stepped in.

"There's my girl!" Derek Morgan was the first to notice you walk in and he greeted you with open arms and a crushing hug. You smiled, letting him. It had been a while since you last saw him. He let you go after a few seconds, but his hands stayed on your shoulders. "We missed you here, things weren't as fun without you."

"I bet," you grinned, heading to your desk. You could hide your freakout well. "I missed the smell of coffee and paper in the morning."

"(Y/N), glad to have you back," Hotch said, walking down the steps. He did seem honestly glad to see you as there was a small twitch of his mouth when he approached you and Derek. "You're sure you're alright to work again? I assume today is a file day, but we'll be back out there soon."

You nodded, smiling back. "Getting there, but it's controllable now," He narrowed his eyebrows. "I'll be fine for the field and if I'm not, I can always stay at the precinct to work things out there."

Hotch looked to Derek, then back at you. "Sounds good. Again, glad to have you back, agent." Hotch shook your hand and passed you, heading into JJ's office.

"Morgan..." You started, fiddling with your fingers. "Have you seen Spencer?"

"Yeah, he just went to the washroom, why?"

"I need to talk to him..."

The day went on and of course, you saw Spencer, but he paid you no mind. Not even a 'welcome back' or anything. You were just there and it was like you never left, except Spencer didn't even look at you. He was busy with his work and you constantly found yourself watching him. Maybe he'd heard your voice mail, maybe not, but either way, he didn't seem to care anymore.

That month and a half you spent recovering- was it possible that he used that time away from you to get over you? The idea was haunting and tugged at your heart. To be the only one all-in was such an incredibly painful idea. What he said before you were dragged away into the depths of hell meant something to you and it kept you alive... and to think he probably didn't mean it...

You needed to stop thinking about it before it made you burst into a million pieces. To be surrounded by everyone who you loved and loved you back wasn't enough if you couldn't have Spencer, too. Selfish, it sounded so selfish, but it shook you to the core that he wasn't amongst them.

The day continued and more pain was endured. More overthinking, more fear, more insecurity. The day was nearing its end.

Everybody seemed like nobody when Spencer was out of the picture. You had spent so much time thinking about him in the hospital and at home in recovery, who were you without wondering you could make it work? Nobody. Without the fantasy you could be his, you stranded on some sort of island. You were nobody if not Spencer's.

So you were nobody.

It was that thought that keeled you over the edge in the parking lot of the BAU. So much fear, so much pent-up emotion, it was too much to contain and just... spilled over onto everything as your hands began to shake, followed by that godawful feeling in the pit of your stomach. Your knees gave out and you fell conveniently onto the curb next to your car.

There was nobody there, either. You were alone on the concrete curb, face in your shaking hand and the other shaking hand gripping the curb so hard your knuckles turned white. Too much, too little, everything was wrong and you couldn't face Spencer.

You looked up for a brief moment and there was a brief look at someone in a beige cardigan and khaki pants and your heart fell to the pit of your stomach- as if you were humiliated enough. Footsteps, closer.

"A-are you okay?" His voice was a little panicked, definitely not as bad as yours, though. Overall, you were just glad he was within six feet of you.

Of course, you were pretty much unable to reply. Your face stayed in your hands and you felt light fingers on your shoulder, his, and they were somewhat grounding. God, he was here and you couldn't even talk to him, you couldn't even raise your head.

"What do you need, I- what happened?" He cared. But to what extent? His hands felt frantic- they shook a little (again, not nearly as bad as yours) and they moved from your shoulder, to upper arm, to near your neck, to the side of your head. "If this is my fault, I-"

He stopped himself. How could he possibly know that it was the thought of him that sent this into motion? The voicemail didn't entail much other than he was on your mind. You hardly even noticed that you were crying from the anxiety attack until you felt how wet your hands were. Your words kept piling on your tongue and the panic rose again in an entirely new wave.

"Do you- do you need help? I can get Hotch or... Derek, Derek knows, I know, but I don't- I don't think you like me very much and I won't be of help-I-I-I-" His voice continued to ramble and you were flooded with new thoughts. How could he possibly think that you didn't like him? In those moments before you were taken, you had said yes to going out with him if you both made it out. You kissed him back then before the arms grabbed you and dragged you off. Where did the idea of you not liking him come from? It was you who was afraid he didn't like you back.

You wanted to speak, you wanted to say something but you were stuck in your own mind, desperately trying to fight this off, trying hard to calm your breathing. The most you could do was take your hand off of the curb and frantically grab his. You took his hand and you held it tight, trying to slow the sharp intakes of breath. That's when Spencer squeezed your hand and you began to feel better.

And when you did start to feel better and your breathing was still harsh, but better and you could finally move a little more, you did what you had wanted to do every day in the hospital. You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around Spencer, your arms resting around his shoulders. You needed it and apparently so did he, because he squeezed you back the same. Either it was that or he knew pressure helped. All you could do was hope it wasn't the latter.

Spencer of course buried his face in the crook of your neck like he had before and you knew now that this feeling was coming to an end. The tide was washing out and there was calm after the storm. No words, just your breathing becoming more natural and the wind over your ears. This was all that you needed.

He stayed like this with you for a good five more minutes before you could finally release him, pulling apart and your hand coming up to wipe under your eyes. He didn't speak then, either- he just watched, his face furrowed in concern.

So you spoke, "Spencer wh-" your voice cut out from still being in that state of anxiety. You coughed into your arm, tried again. "Why would you think I don't like you?"

"I-I- don't think that's the question, I- are you okay?" His hands went back to your shoulders bracingly.

You smiled a small smile, "I'm better, it's passed, but Spencer...' You slid into a whisper with the crying coming back. Had it really passed?

"Yes?" His reply was wary. As if afraid to break you, he tiptoed.

"Answer me, please."

He bit his lower lip into his mouth, sighing. "I don't know if I should, you're- you're upset."

You looked at him, dead-on, determined. "Please."

"You didn't call. Not once and I-I-I was worried and then I started to think about it and everything t-that happened before you were taken and that you probably only said and did that because you were about to-to-uh, die." He rambled, words spilling out. "So I thought maybe you didn't really like me and-"

"I was waiting for you to call, too," you actually let out a laugh. He smiled in realization. "Because I was afraid of the exact same thing. I was afraid you didn't mean it and I worked myself up- I called Friday night, though-"

"I didn't- I didn't know that-" he fumbled to bring his phone out of his pocket and he must have seen that he had a voicemail from you and nodded, a little smile appearing on his worried face. "So you did mean to say yes?"

"And you did mean to ask?" You inquired, head tilted.

"Y-yes, of course."

"Then yes," you replied, smile widening to a grin. "How is Saturday night? I think I'll be better by then."

He was positively beaming as he helped you back to your feet. "Saturday is... great. Are you sure you're alright?"

"Much better.... truthfully." You nodded excessively and Spencer began walking back to his car, but then came back quickly to kiss your cheek.

He was like a child excited to go run and tell friends, "Goodnight!"

"Night, Spence." You stood there, basking in the glory that was solved miscommunication. You weren't nobody, you were in fact, somebody. And you were soon to be Spencer's.

Tags: @ellyhotchner, @softhairedhotch, @laurakirsten0502

REQUEST HERE

[hanoella]

Affettuoso- With Feeling (Part 9)

Pairing: Bucky x Pianist!Reader

Set after the events of TFATWS: In an effort to start over and make a home in Louisiana, Bucky meets a friend of Sam’s who ends up being his landlord. With only a driveway to separate them, he finds that he’s not the only one looking for a fresh start.

Series tags/warnings: Slow Burn, Eventual Bucky x Reader, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Canon Level Violence, PTSD, Mentions of sex, sexual activity

Part 9 Word Count: 8.1k

A/N: Sorry this one took a little while, I was super busy in real life! I went back an forth on it alot and I don’t think I’m going to write full on smut, but definitely there will be mentions and allusions to sexual activity. Thanks for being patient with me for this part!

Once again, thank you for all your support! Every heart and comment motivates me and is just so wonderful.

Taglist!: @vicmc624​ @officiallykuute​​ @undiadeestos​ @tailsoflightning​ @buckys2thicc​  @mischief-siriusly-managed​ 

On Christmas day, you and Bucky went over for dinner at Sarah’s. You had gone together in your car, gifts for everyone in tow. Hanging up your coat, you were greeted cheerfully by Sam, Sarah, and the boys. Bucky watched as you knelt down to hug the younger one. The warm glow of the entryway giving your hair an orange glow.

AJ grabbed Bucky’s hand and started dragging him to the living room.

“Uncle Buck, come look at the presents I got this year!”

You gave Bucky an amused smile when he looked at you first. Lifting your eyebrows, you nodded your head slightly. Watching him get tugged along, you chuckled to yourself before heading to the bathroom. You washed your hands before pressing them onto your cheeks to cool them. Letting your hands fall to the sink, your eyes fell upon the pearl earrings that were swinging from your ear, gold filigree glinting in the light. Delicately touching one of the pearls, you thought back to that morning.

You were in the kitchen, cooking up a special breakfast for the day. Normally, you skipped breakfast in favor of sleeping in, but with Bucky being up by 7 AM latest, you were starting to adjust to his natural schedule. It was hard to stay asleep when your personal heater got up and walked away. He had brushed the hair out of your eyes as you stirred, saying that he was going to go for a run and shower. Curse that beautiful fit bastard for waking you up every morning.

Not being able to go back to sleep, you had walked out of your room to find that he had also gotten the fireplace going. Alpine was curled up on the end of the couch closest to the fire. Now, you had a breakfast quiche and bacon going in the oven as you flipped the batch of pancakes on the stove.

“What’s all this?” Bucky said as he walked in through the front door, freshly showered.

“Special morning breakfast, of course.”

He walked over to you and kissed your cheek, crouching down to look through the window of the oven.

“Wow, look at that. What did I do to get so lucky?”

You chuckled as you put the last of the pancakes on the stack. Toweling off your hands, you opened one of the kitchen island drawers and pulled out a small blue box with a silver ribbon. You placed it on the counter in front of him, waiting expectantly.

“I got you something.” You were barely able to contain your excitement. Bucky held the box for a moment before gently tearing the wrapping paper. Quirking his head at the packaging, he looked up at you.

“Coms?”

It took you a second before you registered the lingo.

“Oh, no, they’re wireless earbuds.”

He opened the box and took the case out, flipping it in his hand to look at it in it’s entirety. You grabbed the manual and slid his phone over to you, turning on the bluetooth.

“Can you open the case?” you asked, not looking up from his phone. He did so, seeing the earbuds and a blinking green light. You tapped a few more things on the screen and the green light stopped blinking.

“Go ahead,” you said, nodding your head at him. He put in one earphone, then the other. You opened up Spotify, which you had downloaded on his phone for him to link to your account, and played a song from your ‘classics’ playlist. You could tell exactly when it started because Bucky’s eyes lit up and a huge smile started forming on his face.

“That sound quality is great!” He half shouted. You tried so hard not to laugh at the old man side of him. After listening for a few more seconds, he took one out of his ear and examined it.

“This is a great gift!” he said animatedly, pointing at the earbud in his other hand.

“I’m so glad you like it! I was thinking about the last time I sent you a recording of the concert, when you were on your last mission, and you said you didn’t have headphones.”

“That’s so thoughtful, thank you. But nothing will ever beat listening to you in person.”

The smile that he gave you as he said that made your face flush.

“I also have something for you,” he continued, fishing out a small box with a shiny gold bow from the pocket of his sweatpants. He held out the small maroon leather jewelry box for you to take. Looking at him curiously, you opened the box to see a set of dangling pearl earrings. The post of the earrings were reminiscent of French crest, the gold filigree encasing three tiny pearls. Hanging from each crest was a raindrop-shaped pearl.

“Oh my goodness, they’re beautiful, Buck.” You said as you laid out the earrings on your hand.

“Go try them on.”

He followed you to the bathroom where you put the earrings on and turned your head to admire them.

“These are beautiful.” You said as you turned to face him, linking your hands around his neck. “Thank you.”

“You look beautiful, and you’re welcome.” He smiled down at you, pulling you to his chest and resting his chin atop your head. “Anything for my best girl.”

Taking a deep breath, you smoothed out your sweater and walked back out to the living room where Bucky was letting AJ talk about all the different features of the toy dump truck he had gotten. You sat down next to Bucky and gave him a nervous smile. He smiled back and put a hand on your upper back, though it was quickly withdrawn when Sarah and Sam came in with drinks. You stood as you accepted one, looking at Bucky expectantly. Nodding slightly, he got up as well.

“Uhm, I have a small announcement to make.” You started nervously, your unoccupied hand tucking your hair behind your ear. The boys both stopped playing at your serious tone. Sarah tilted her head in confusion but Sam had a small smirk that was starting to grow.

“Bucky and I have started seeing each other.”

Sam’s smirk turned into a full fledged grin as he gave Bucky a hug.

“Congrats you guys. That’s amazing. I knew you two were great together.” He said as he moved to give you a hug as well. Sarah followed behind him, giving you an excited smile.

“What does that mean?” AJ asked, Cass answering him.

“It means that her and Uncle Buck are boyfriend and girlfriend, AJ.”

You laughed at the older one’s serious explanation.

“So does that mean they’re getting married and we should call her Auntie or Titi?” AJ continued.

You turned beet red, fanning your face as Bucky blinked, opening his mouth but not emitting any sound. Sam was laughing hysterically while Sarah tried to keep it together as she explained it to AJ.

“It means that they’re dating, so they like each other. No one’s getting married, at least not yet.” She said, turning back towards you and winking. You turned even redder, walking towards the kitchen while Bucky just grinned sheepishly as he scratched the back of his neck.

“I’m so ready for dinner. Is anyone else hungry?” You asked as you walked away.

Sam, now calmed down, smiled genuinely at Bucky, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m happy for you, bud. Are you happy?”

Bucky nodded, smile creeping onto his face.

“Very happy.”

“Good. You deserve it.”  

---  

That night, you settled into bed next to Bucky, propping your head up on your hand as you laid on your side facing him.

“How do you feel now that we’ve told everybody?” You asked, amused smile on your face.  

“I feel great. Sam was so happy for us, and the boys were so funny about it.” Bucky answered, turning to mirror your position.

“Weren’t they? I felt like I was going to die of embarrassment when AJ asked if we were getting married.”

He laughed and you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his waist, your ear pressing against his chest as you listened to his heart beat. He brought his right arm up, rubbing your upper back soothingly. Humming in content, you nuzzled your face into your chest, bidding him goodnight.

“Goodnight, doll.” Bucky answered back, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Breaths slowly syncing, you drifted off to sleep together.

---  

On New Year’s Day, you and Bucky were in the middle of making lunch. Breakfast had been slept through since you both had stayed up so late. Finally, you had triumphed over the man who always woke at 6AM. Alpine walked figure eights around your legs as you went around the kitchen. The last night had been spent in each other’s company, complete with champagne and a kiss to reign in the new year. You felt a flush come over your face as you remembered how his rough palm had slid up your leg and rested on your upper thigh. You had worn a sleek silky gold dress that showed a little more skin than you normally did. It was New Year’s Eve, you always dressed up. Bucky had offered to go change to match you, but you insisted he looked just as handsome in his dark-wash jeans and red Henley. You daydreamed about what might’ve happened had Alpine not jumped onto Bucky’s lap.

Your risqué thoughts were interrupted by the kettle whistling on the stove. Moving it off of the burner, you looked over at Bucky, who was looking incredibly domestic as he searched the fridge with his back to you. It has been a long time since you’ve felt anything akin to domestic bliss, yet it was hard to imagine anything else in its stead. Sitting on the barstool across the counter from him, you crossed you arms and leaned forward to catch his attention.

“Do you have any big plans for the New Year?”

Your question caught him off guard. He tilted his head to think, wiping his hands off on the dish towel hanging on the oven handle.

“Hm. I guess I hadn’t thought of it.” He leaned forward onto the counter, bearing weight against his forearms. “How about you?”

“I definitely want to spruce up the yard this upcoming Spring. You know, plant some flowers, make an outdoor seating area, maybe a pond?” Bucky nodded as you listed the various plans. You continued, voice growing softer. “I also want to finish physical therapy, to make this place into a home, to feel good about myself… Just really start getting my life on track. I’ve wasted so much of it already. Sometimes, I feel like I’m working so hard to swim to shore, but really I’ve just been treading water- moving nowhere. I want to be better, for me and for you.”

You looked down to the side wistfully, rubbing your arms as if to comfort yourself. Bucky reached out to put his hand over yours. He opened his mouth to say something, hesitating a moment to get his words straight.

“It’s frustrating when you don’t think you’re making progress. Everything you’ve been through feels like… yesterday and a lifetime ago, all at the same time. But progress doesn’t always look like what you think it looks like. Don’t sell yourself short. I think you’ve been doing a great job.”

He brought your hand up to his lips and pressed soft kisses against your knuckles. A shy smile came over your face as he pressed more kisses to your palm.

“Sam rubbing off on you, huh?” That earned you a quiet chuckle. “That does make me feel better… Thanks, Buck.”

“Of course. It’s the least I can do for you helping me with my one resolution for the new year.”

Your eyebrows lifted in curiosity. “Which is?”

“Spending more time with you.”

Your smile grew bigger and bigger before you leaned across the counter to kiss him. That was a goal you would happily help him reach.

---  

Sam needed to go to Washington D.C. shortly after the new year started. He was needed for a fundraising event for a new children’s hospital. Being the new Captain America, he was in a position to really help out if he made an appearance, so he signed up for the 5k race and the gala that was taking place the next weekend. How much better would it be though, if he had his right-hand man beside him? So here he was, in your living room, sitting across from Bucky as he gave his best pitch.

“C’mon, Buck. It won’t be so bad. You can outrun them, so you can avoid talking to people. Then later, you just have to take one picture with me in a tux, eat all the fancy food you want, and then escape back to the hotel!”

“I told you, I’m not really one for those big events.” Bucky responded as you made your way back to the living room with several mugs of coffee.

“Oooh, what big events?” You asked, handing them their respective cups.

“I was just telling Bucky that he should come to the charity event in DC for the new St. Jude facility.”  

“Oh, that sounds awesome! You have to go, Buck.” You chimed in excitedly, earning Sam a dirty look from Bucky.

Bucky slouched backwards into his seat. He really didn’t want to be apart from you, much less to be with a pack of sweaty people. It was hard enough to leave when it was absolutely necessary for Sam to have back-up. Now he was asking if he would do it recreationally? Not a chance.

“Could he bring a plus one? My holiday vacation extends through that weekend. I just need to be at rehearsal that Monday evening. Is that possible?” You faced Sam expectantly.

“We can definitely make that happen. The 5k is Saturday morning, and the gala is that night. You’ll have all of Sunday to travel back.”

It was Bucky’s turn to be looked at expectantly. Both you and Sam were staring at him with puppy eyes.

“Well, if you’re going, then it won’t be so bad.” He said, putting his arm around your shoulder. You and Sam cheered in victory, Bucky sneaking a glance at you as you celebrated. He couldn’t help but grin at the sight of you clasping your hands together out of excitement. Of course, he’d go if you did. Being without you was pretty much the only real reason he had to not go. After all, he has a New Year’s resolution to fulfill.

---

You checked into the hotel on Friday evening, Bucky easily carrying both his and your luggage. You passed by large glass chandeliers, luxurious seating areas, and a huge ballroom that would host the gala tomorrow night. It was the first time in a long time that you had attended any high visibility events like this, but theoretically, you were fine. The odds of running into any unwanted company were slim to none, especially because you weren’t even sure if said company was still in D.C. Besides, you couldn’t hide away forever.

Maybe you were just on edge because this was your first trip away together. While you did spend most nights together at the house, you always had the safety net of having separate places to retreat. After being confined for so long, it was difficult for you to do anything without having a way out, in case things got messy. It was less about how you felt with Bucky, and more about how you felt with yourself. You did feel better, however, whenever you met his gaze and he gave you that soft smile. So, you looked up at him as you waited side-by-side at the elevator, and sure enough, he gave you what you were looking for. Subconsciously, you let out a deep breath, relaxing your shoulders some.

“You alright?” He asked, noticing your uneasiness.

“Yeah, I’m just tired from the flight.” You smiled back at him. Before Bucky could inquire further, Sam jogged up to where you were waiting.

“Sorry about that, I was figuring out the route for tomorrow.” He said just as the elevator dinged.

“No problem! You guys have fun with that, I’ll be bundled up by the finish line.” You laughed as you stepped into the elevator, pushing the 7th floor button.  

“You’re not running?” Bucky questioned, raising one eyebrow out of curiosity.

“I’d much rather not. There’s a reason why I’m a musician and not an Olympic athlete. I’ll just be cheering you on from the sides.”

You nudged Bucky’s arm with yours as the elevator doors closed. Sam glanced behind him as you two grinned at each other in your own little world. A small smile formed on his face as he shifted his eyes back forward. He couldn’t remember the last time that either of you looked this happy. It had been a long time coming, but so worth it.

The elevator dinged as it opened to your floor. Above the floral arrangement that was sitting on top of a polished wooden console table, was a sign that indicated which room numbers were to the left and the right of the hall.

“We’re room 711.” Bucky read off of the keycard. That meant you were going to the left.

“I’m in room 730 so I’m going this way. I’ll see you guys bright and early?” Sam asked, walking backwards towards his room as he pointed to you.

“Yup!” you replied.

“Yeah, see you then.” Bucky said as you both turned to walk towards your room.

Inserting the keycard, you opened the door to your suite and he followed behind, dropping the bags next to the bed. The room was definitely on the larger side, with the whole wall facing the city being glass. You walked over and pushed the floor length curtains to the side. Bucky pulled off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack before walking over to you.

“The view is amazing.” You admired, still in your coat and clasping your leather-gloved hands together. The different lights of the city gleamed like precious gemstones in the dark winter night. When you could finally tear your gaze from the window, you grabbed Bucky’s arm and looked up at him.

“What?” He questioned with a smile on his face.

“Nothing. It’s just exciting traveling with you.”

You tugged on his arm lightly to get him to lean down and kiss you. He gave you a teasing look but gave in regardless. Afterwards, you slipped off your gloves and started to shrug off your coat. Bucky quickly moved so that he was behind you and took hold of it so that he could hang it up for you. It’s little things like that, that show how soft and polite he was on the inside despite the gruff exterior he put on the outside for everyone else. He was always so gentle too. Between the door-openings, the coat takings, and the soft kisses he liked to press onto your hand, it could almost make you cry. Feeling the heat rise in your face from your overwhelming emotions, you cleared your throat and took a deep breath.

“Buck, I’m going to take a shower, do you need anything?” He hung your coat up and came back over to you, putting his hands on your waist.

“I’m okay. Enjoy your shower.” He said, pressing a kiss to your cheek before picking the remote off of the table and turning the television on. Upon entering the bathroom, you shut the door with a soft click. You started running the water and glanced at your complexion before stripping down and stepping into the steaming water. It felt wonderful to wash the airport germs off. You opened the packaging of the complimentary soaps and shampoos, relaxing at the smells of lavender and green tea.  

The shower did wonders calming you down. Giving yourself a few more seconds under the hot water, you closed your eyes to appreciate how much nicer it was to stay at a hotel for recreation instead of escape. You cut off the water and rung your hair out, stepping onto the cushiony bath mat. It was then that you realized you hadn’t brought any clothes in with you. You cursed in your head as you wrapped on of the towels around you. You could ask him to bring the suitcase or pick out the clothes but you bit your lip as you made your mind up. Securing the towel around you, you cracked the door to the bathroom open. Now or never.

“Bucky, I just forgot to grab clothes, sorry.”

Bucky had been reclined back on the bed, one arm propping his head up so that he could see the TV. At the sound of your voice, he turned his head towards the bathroom and saw your reflection on the mirror across from it. His eyes followed your reflection until you yourself actually came into view. He swallowed hard as you walked past to the far side of the bed. Your eyes stayed trained on the floor, but the blush across your cheeks gave you away. You crouched over your suitcase to fish out some clothes, using a burst of courage to look up at Bucky. He had turned his head towards you, eyes shifting downwards to watch the droplets of water travel down from your wet hair onto your collarbone, then follow the curve towards the valley of your chest before it disappeared into the towel. Bucky coughed and then quickly shifted his eyes forward, apologizing as the red crept up his neck to his ears.

“Sorry…”

“Don't be.” You said quickly to put him at ease. Gathering the clothes in your arms, you got up to go back to the bathroom when he gripped your forearm. Your head snapped towards him and you stared at each other, the air seemingly growing thick in the room. Bucky opened his mouth to say something, glancing down your body once more before letting go.

“Sorry, I’ll let you get dressed.” He said sheepishly, bringing a hand the back of his neck as he looked downwards.

“Do you want to…?”

He looked up as you let the sentence dangle in the air. He wanted to say yes, but he couldn’t find the voice to say it. The notion of being together physically was still foreign to him and he was… insecure about his body. How attractive could it be to have all that scarring right at your eye line? And it wasn’t like he didn’t want to be with you that way, it was just daunting to leave himself completely vulnerable to someone when he had never been seen in that light before. The anxiety started to close in on him. Noticing his discomfort, you bent over slightly to meet his eye.

“Hey, there’s no pressure. Let’s give it some more time, Buck. There’s no rush.” You reassured him as you cupped his cheek with one hand, holding the towel to your chest with the other.

“I know. I’m sorry. I really want to. I’m just… nervous.”

“Hey, that’s okay. That’s totally fine. Here, let me get changed and then we can cuddle. Besides, we have an early morning tomorrow.”

Bucky agreed with you, giving you a weak smile. You smiled back at him and walked to the bathroom, getting dressed in your sleep shorts and t-shirt. After drying your hair, you walked back out to find the TV off and Bucky dressed in his usual shirt and boxers. He was half under the covers, avoiding your eye as he scrolled on his phone. Sliding into bed next to him, you gently took his phone from his grasp and leaned over to set it on his nightstand. Then you leaned over his face, cupping his cheek again.

“Are you alright?” you asked.

“Yeah. I am. Sorry about all that.”

“Don’t be sorry. I should’ve just asked you to bring my bag.”

“There was definitely nothing wrong with that. You’re just so attractive, it’s hard for me to not react.”

Your cheeks grew flushed as you smiled at him.

“I mean it.” Bucky said, now sitting up, causing you to lean back. He slowly leaned towards you until you were switched positions- you on your back and him leaning overtop of you. Your breath got caught in your throat as he leaned down to kiss you. The kisses were hungry, passionate, slowly growing deeper. Then, as you moved your arm to put around his neck, it brushed the length that was straining against his boxers. He let out a small groan into your mouth and you both opened your eyes in surprise, him pulling away. His words were breathy as he spoke first.

“I’m having a trouble… keeping it down. I’m sorry to make you uncomfortable.”

You sat up. “Bucky, are you kidding? We’re kissing. In bed. I’m kind of surprised I haven’t felt you get hard before.”

He blinked, the flush growing even warmer on his face. You were still slightly catching your breath as your expression softened. You gently put your hand over his, scooting closer to him. Your tone was gentler this time.

“Do you want help with it?” You nodded your head downwards. “I can touch it for you.”

Okay, Bucky didn’t think he could get any redder but he definitely just did.

“I’m… a little embarrassed.” He trailed off. You could definitely understand him being shy. You had been like that when you were still new to physically showing love. Thinking back, you remembered one thing that helped.

“How about I turn off the lights? Do you think it’d be okay then?”

There was a long pause before he answered quietly.

“Yeah.”

You gave him a reassuring smile before leaning over to your nightstand and turning off your light. Then you laid to face him as he turned his off. Now completely dark, you reached out until you felt his chest, coming closer until you were in his arms. Your hands slid upwards to cup his face, letting you know where to lean in to kiss him. You kissed for quite some time, sucking on his lower lip as your hands eventually slid to his chest. When he seemed to relax into that, you brought your hand lower until it brushed over the front of his boxers. It caused him to tense again, so you asked once more.

“Can I?”

You felt his chest rise and fall deeply before he whispered.

“Yeah.”

---  

Bucky felt the cold morning air come into his lungs as he took a controlled breath in. His grey hoodie was almost too warm to run in, even though it was the heart of winter. At the beginning of the 5k, he had kept the same pace with Sam. He had no interest in being the first to the finish line. It wouldn’t be fair to everyone else. It had been going swimmingly until Sam started poking his nose where it didn’t belong.

Sam had noticed that something was different at breakfast. While they ate a light meal in preparation for the race, you had sipped on coffee as you talked animatedly about the different charities you had associated yourself with. Sam had been listening intently when he noticed how Bucky’s eyes kept shifting back and forth between the bagel on his plate and you. Sitting next to him, you hadn’t noticed. Being the astute observer that he was, Sam had watched as Bucky nervously chuckled when you turned to him for a response. You had made eye contact with Bucky and your complexions had grown flushed. To ease the awkward nervousness, you had quickly turned to Sam. He had squinted his eyes momentarily as he tried to figure out why Bucky was acting so strange, though he shoved the thoughts to the back of his mind for later.

Later turned out to be a couple of hours after breakfast, in the first half of the race. You could tell Bucky was antsy from the crowd, so you settled on just squeezing his hands encouragingly before wishing him luck. Then, they were off. After outrunning the crowd and cameras, Sam and Bucky were now in a much more private setting- not quite jogging close enough to anybody else to make conversation.

“So,” Sam started, taking advantage of the seclusion, “How’re things going with her?”

“Good.” Bucky answered simply, sensing that there may be more follow up questions.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. She’s great. We’re doing great.”

Sam slowed his pace slightly so he could catch his breath. “Just wanted to make sure. You seemed a little off at breakfast. Did something happen?”

Bucky swallowed and couldn’t hide the flush of red creeping up his neck as he remembered the previous night. It hadn’t taken him long to finish. Nobody had ever touched him intimately, and even if they had, it had been a long time since. You were more than happy with the extent of the physicality last night, all too satisfied to let him ride out his high, spilling into your hand with his face buried into the crook of your neck. But Bucky couldn’t stop the overthinking. The hesitancy, along with the telltale signs of embarrassment, gave Sam an inkling what it might be about.

“Oh, I take it something did happen.”

Bucky was not at all thrilled about Sam’s avid interest in the subject.

“Like I said, things are going well. But sometimes I get so wrapped up in my head about stuff.” Bucky said, moving past that subject. “It’s going a lot faster than I thought it was going to. Things were a lot… slower in the 40’s. And now that Steve’s gone, she’s one of the few people I have to lose, except she’s not a super soldier and she doesn’t have a powered-up suit to protect her.”

They jogged in silence for a moment.

“Honestly, it’s terrifying. Sometimes, I feel like I should’ve never started this because if something happened, I don’t know what I’d do.”

“You know, if she was here right now, she’d probably smack you upside your head.”

Bucky gave Sam a look that could’ve withered a plant, but Sam just chuckled at him.

“Listen, what you’re feeling is normal, with anything there’s a risk. You’ve literally risked your life, for your entire life. Why?”

“Well, because it was the right thing to do.”

“Right. You always do the right thing because doing the right thing makes you feel good and gives you a sense of fulfillment. She also gives you positive emotions, but you’ve come up with a hundred reasons why not to be with her. Yes, you don’t want anything to happen to her, but you’re also hesitant because you don’t want something to happen to yourself. You’re afraid of getting hurt. We all are, that doesn’t make you weak. But missing out on what is potentially the best thing that ever happened to you, solely because you were afraid, makes you a coward.”

Bucky made another face but it was one more of resignation, regardless of how much disdain for Sam he had at the moment. He was telling the truth. If he stopped the relationship because of the potential outcome, he would be a coward for doing so. Whether he lost you emotionally from it not working out, or physically because of any potential enemies, if he were to stop now, he’d be a coward.

“Think about how much she’s putting on the line. She’s smart, Buck. She knows what she’s getting into and she knows the risk. But being with you is worth more to her than the potential risk. I think you feel the same way about her. If you feel anxious about it, talk to her. I’m sure she’ll reassure you. I will also reassure you if you ask me, but I’m sure you’d much rather talk to her.” Sam chuckled. “Sorry for being harsh, man. But, I think you needed to hear it.”

“I did… Thanks, Sam. You’re a good friend.” Bucky said, looking towards Sam

“Anytime.”

They jogged comfortably at their slower pace, letting a few joggers say hello and pass them. Once they were out of earshot, Sam got his classic mischievous grin and wiggled his eyebrows.

“So, what happened between you two last night? Or is it too Rated-R to say out loud? Just asking, because your skin is, like, glowing. You look refreshed and ready to go.”

Bucky threw his head back and let out a frustrated grunt before picking up the pace and sprinting to put distance between him and Sam.

“Hey. Hey!” Sam yelled as Bucky got farther and farther away, despite his best efforts to catch up to him. Once Sam was just a speck on the trail behind him, he relaxed into a more sustainable pace. He caught his breath and looked back, laughing at the image of a far-away Sam, shaking his fist at Bucky.

As much as he and Sam joked back and forth, he was thankful to have good friends. It’s definitely helped him feel better about missing Steve. Steve was afraid that if anything ever happened to himself, that Bucky would be left in the lurch. What really helped him at the time, was knowing that Sam would be there. So, when he had brought the idea up to Bucky, he mentioned that Sam was a good man, and that he would help Bucky a lot, but if Bucky needed him, then he’d stay. Bucky knew from the bottom of his heart that if he said that he didn’t want Steve to leave, Steve would’ve stayed and not resented him one bit. But Bucky would’ve had to live with that on his conscience for the rest of his life. So, he gave Steve a pat on the back and told him to go, and that he’d be fine with Sam. He deserved to be happy. Bucky, however, did not.  

And so, he damned himself to a life of continued torture and solitude. He ignored all of Sam’s texts and calls. He punished himself by going to lunch with the dad of a victim who was plagued by his son’s mysterious death- a son that was made a victim at Bucky’s hands. It took such a shock as a new replacement “Steve” to break the cycle. Then, it was just pure anger. It was anger at the world for doing Steve wrong, anger at the world for doing Sam wrong, anger at John Wyatt for besmirching the mantle that his best friend worked so hard to establish. It was anger at himself for being slow on making amends, anger at himself for still waking up shaken from the nightmares that haunted him. It was anger at himself for telling Steve that he would be just fine if he left.  

At the time, it was a bold-faced lie. Though, overtime it did end up being the truth. He helped the real Captain America take back the shield, and in the process, he saved people who had actually thanked him for it, as if it wasn’t what he was longing to do in the first place. He finally finished making his amends, giving peace to a number of families and himself. He even allowed himself to have a little bit of happiness by believing, even if just for a moment, that he belonged in the community that accepted him so easily in Louisiana. And now, he had you too. Beautiful, talented, kind you. You, who had embraced him with unabashed love. You, who wasn’t ashamed of who he was.  

Steve would’ve loved you.

Bucky hadn’t noticed the tears until one slipped onto his cheek, accentuating the cold. Somehow, though, this cold served to remind him that he was indeed alive. Despite all odds, he was here. What a fool he was to think that he would have been protecting you by staying distant. Bucky coughed and then sniffed, shaking his head before quickly wiping his cheek. Determined to see you, he ran at a steady pace until he saw you waving and cheering him on by the finish line. You were against the barrier about ten yards from the end of the race, slightly separated from the other crowds of people. Ignoring the finish line, he ran straight to you and gripped you by the shoulders.

“Buck, what’re you-”

He kissed you openly, surprising both you and the racers who gawked as they jogged past the scene to the finish line. You eventually pulled apart and looked at him with an incredulous giddy expression on your face, accented by your fingers gently touching your lips as if you didn’t believe what just happened.

“I love you.”

You blinked several times to process it before bursting into a grin that couldn’t get any bigger. Breathlessly, you responded.

“I love you too.”

---  

The gala was a huge success. They announced during the introductions that they had met their fundraising goal, which was greeted by a tremendous amount of applause. They spotlighted Sam, and subsequently you and Bucky, as they thanked Captain America and his right hand man for their support. After you had finished dinner, they whisked them both away for publicity. You felt a little bad as you watched Sam and Bucky get assaulted by camera flashes as every bigwig who donated towards the cause insisted on taking a picture with Captain America. Fortunately, you were watching from the comfort of your own seat, nursing a glass of wine while trying not to stain the glass with your lipstick.  

You then turned your head to watch the dance floor where a lot of the party was congregated, dancing in pairs to a waltz. Normally, events like these started off as a classical ball and ended in an atmosphere more like a nightclub after the older sponsors went home. You did love dancing, to either kind of music, but you weren’t sure if Bucky was the dancing type. Still, you wished that you could have at least one dance with him before it got too late. It was then that you heard someone call your name. Not Irina, but your name. You turned your head warily towards the voice.

“Hey! I thought that was you!”

“Oh my god Dev, you startled me!” You said in relief, standing up to give your friend a hug. He hugged you and then sat in Bucky’s unoccupied seat.

“I haven’t seen you in so long! You kind of disappeared off of everyone’s radar.”

You couldn’t miss the glance he took at your shoulder. The dress you were wearing, one of your favorites for the wintertime, had a flowing tulle champagne skirt that had gold floral accents. But from the waist up, it was a velvet red fluttered off-shoulder top with thin supporting straps that perfectly framed the scarring. You hadn’t really been planning on seeing anyone you knew so you hadn’t bothered covering up your shoulder.

“Yeah, I’ve been trying to keep a semi-low profile.”

“Well, whatever you’ve been doing has been working. You worried a lot of us. If it weren’t for Jules letting us know you were still alive, we would’ve called in a missing person’s report.”

You looked down sheepishly, embarrassed but happy that after all this time, your friends still remembered and cared about you. You tucked your hair behind your ear and fidgeted with one of the pearls on the earrings that Bucky had gotten for you.

“Yeah, I’m so excited for her wedding, you know she made me a bridesmaid?”

Unaware of your skillful redirection of the conversation, he replied excitedly.  

“I’ll be there too! Super happy for her. Her and Raul have been dating forever. It’s about time they get hitched.”

“Agreed. Speaking of, how’re you doing these days? Any lucky ladies in your life?” You leaned back in your chair and resumed your glass of wine.

“No ladies, but I did just get my big break.” He said with a wide secretive smile.

“Really?” You perked up. He leaned in as if he was going to tell you something confidential so you mirrored the movement. In a low tone, he explained.

“I just got hired to compose the musical score for a Netflix series. I’ve been working on it for months, and now we’re recording in three weeks at a studio in New York!”

“Dev!” you exclaimed loudly, “That is absolutely amazing! I’m so happy for you! You’re going to be the next John Williams, I just know it.”

He gave you a big smile. Across the room, Bucky was looking in your direction, attention caught by your excitement.

“Who’s that?” He asked Sam discreetly between pictures.

“I don’t know. Maybe a fan?”

Bucky’s eyes lingered in your direction until the photographer called his attention.

“You know,” Dev started, “We’re still in the selection process for the piano player since we were torn between two options, but you blow them both out of the water.”

“Wow, that sounds amazing. I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes though.”

“Nonsense. I’m the composer so I get to choose my orchestra! And you’ll love the series. It’s about an orphan in the 1960’s who’s a chess prodigy. She destroys different chess tournaments and battles addiction. She ends up playing the best of the best in Russia by the end of it. It’s called Queen’s Gambit- based on a book with the same name. Who better to have recording for Queen’s Gambit than the Reigning Queen of Russian Classics? You can come see Jules too. The studio’s not far from her place.”

The offer was extremely tempting, but you weren’t sure how ready you were to throw caution to the wind. He must’ve caught onto your hesitation, so he gave another pitch to you.

“I know you’ve been out of the limelight for a long time, but this is your chance to bring your name back into the mix. And the series won’t be released until later this year so no one will know you’re in New York if that’s what you’re worried about. Not until long after you’ve finished recording.”

You bit your lip. You’re resolve was crumbling.

“How long is recording?” You asked tentatively.

“Our target is three studio days, but we booked four just in case- Monday through Thursday. Is that okay?”

“Well… I’m performing right now under a stage name with an orchestra. But the rehearsals have been going really well since we’ve been playing together all season. I could give them a recording of me playing the pieces for that week that they could practice to. Before I get ahead of myself though, can I just ask one thing?”

“You can have whatever you want.” You cracked a smile at that.

“Can you keep it a secret that I’m going to be there? You can use my name in the credits but I don’t really want any media coverage while I’m in New York.”

“Absolutely. Done.”

It was hard not to feel absolutely giddy. If it were someone you didn’t really know, you wouldn’t do it, but you trusted Dev to abide by your wishes.

“Well, I’ll email the orchestra head and if he says yes, then I’m in.”

Dev cheered, causing several heads to turn towards him. You could barely hold your laughter as he quickly apologized to those around him. When you both settled, the lights started to dim slightly, and the music switched from instrumental to lyrical. You and Dev looked out to the dance floor. Still slower paced, but modern, perfect for slow dancing to.

“Care to dance?”

Your head snapped towards Dev who was holding out his hand.

“I think that I might be ahead of you in line, pal.”

Bucky placed a hand on the back of the chair you were sitting in. Happy that he was back, you set one of your hands over his and looked up at him.

“All done with the paparazzi?” You joked with a big smile on your face that reassured Bucky.

“Yeah, finally. Who’s this?” He nodded his head towards the man sitting in his seat.

“This is Dev Addison, a friend of mine from Julliard.”

Bucky extended his hand in greeting, Dev standing up to shake his hand.

“Dev, this is Sergeant Barnes.”

He looked to you and then back to Bucky incredulously.

“Wow, it’s nice to meet you. Thanks for always keeping us safe.”

“I’m happy to it.” He responded as you got up as well.

“Well,” you started, straightening out your skirt. “I think I’ll have to ask for a rain check, Dev. I’ve been waiting all night for them to be done with him.” You said with a grin as you looked up at Bucky, him reciprocating.

An amused smile came upon Dev’s face as he saw the look between you two. You looked happy. After so long, it was good to know that you were at least okay.

“No problem,” he said good-naturedly. “Let me know ASAP when the orchestra head replies!”

“Will do!”

You both waved goodbye and you started walking hand in hand with Bucky to the area where people were dancing. You put one hand in his and the other on his shoulder as he put his other on your waist, tentatively swaying to the music together.

“So, Dev offered me a job. It’s a four day contract to record music that he composed for a television series. It’s going to be at a studio in New York at the end of February.”

“Wow,” Bucky said with raised eyebrows. “That’s exciting. Are you going to take it?”

“I think so.” You said slowly but firmly. “I just have to wait for the orchestra to approve it.”

“That’s great.” Bucky said encouragingly, noticing a different emotion mixed in with your excitement. “What’s wrong?”

“I just haven’t been to New York in a while. It just makes me feel a little nervous about getting back out into the world. I know you know how that feels, on a much bigger scale. But another part of me is excited to get back into big projects like these.”

Bucky nodded his head in agreement. “But I think if you want to, then there’s no harm. It’s only a few days and it’s just for recording. You could stay at a hotel so you could have some space if you don’t want to stay with your friends.”

You looked like you were thinking, so he didn’t say anything else. Instead, you danced together closely as you listened to the lyrics of the song.

And you say that you’re not worth it

You get hung up on your flaws

Well, in my eyes you are perfect

As you are

“John Legend, I think.” You said quietly as rested your cheek against his shoulder. Bucky hummed in response, touching his lips to your forehead.

I will never try to change you

I will always want the same you

Swear on everything I pray to

That I won’t break your heart

Bucky glanced down at the necklace that rested perfectly in the space between your collarbones, the one that you had fixed with the brooch he gave you. The emerald was now fitted in gold plating, set between two delicate pearls. It matched the earrings he had given you perfectly. You could’ve worn or bought plenty of other jewelry, but you continually wear these because they make you happy and they show off to the world that he favored you.

I’ll be there when you get lonely

Keep the secrets that you told me

And your love is all you owe me

And I won’t break your heart  

“If I go to New York, will you come with me?” You looked up at him with an endearing look, the dim chandelier leaving a residual glimmer in your eyes.

“Of course, I will.” He said softly, giving you a classic Bucky smile. You laughed as he twirled you once before dipping you. He held you like you weighed nothing, pressing his lips against your cheek as you giggled.  

“I love you.” You said, a dreamy look on your face. A huge smile spread over Bucky’s face, and he reciprocated while gazing at you from under hooded eyelids.

“I love you too.”

[wndrcarol]

daddy’s favorite | ceo!c.d. | part 3

part one | part two

summary: working for your fathers company has its perks. But one of those perks is being able to gain connections.

a/n: okay this time I made sure to put the ‘keep reading’ tab bc it completely flew over my head adding it to pt.2 whoopsie. Alrighty, so this chapter we really start uh ,, getting into it 👀 some teasing bc why tf not

also! again, if you’d like to be added to the taglist for ‘daddy’s favorite’ then just let me know and I’ll be more than glad to add you!

au: CEO

pairings: Carol Danvers x F!Reader

other characters in chap.: Tony Stark (father)

warnings: nothing serious but some closeness ahem lmaO

———

Carol kept trying. Almost everyday it felt like. She would call your office, asking for info on the company to add to her records for the new deal and then would proceed to ask you out. Everytime you declined, even though you wanted to accept badly.

You thought if you kept her on edge about her asking you out, it would be a bit fun to just keep the confident blonde on her toes for a while. But, each time you fought with yourself to keep cool and not accept. But today was different.

Once again, Carol called asking for a certain file information to which you complied in giving to her. Then came her daily question.

“Still deciding on that date?” She asked through the phone as you smiled lightly, closing the paper folder infront of you. You could here her pen tapping on the table over the phone, anxiously waiting for your response, hoping today would be the day you’d say yes.

“I’ll go” you said, making Carol freeze. She didn’t know what to say next. She thought you’d give your answer of “I don’t know yet” or “things are so busy, I need more time” but she was stunned at your two words.

“You-“ she started, clearing her throat and composing herself before continuing, “you will?” She asked, feeling a bit giddy knowing you said yes.

“Yes, unless you don’t want me to anymore then-“ you said, smirking into the phone, playing along a bit more.

“No, no! Of course I do” she said, cutting you off as she felt a smile grow on her face. “Only took you a bit of time to say yes” she chuckled, smiling into the phone and playing with the phone cord. There she was, the smug Carol you partially began to adore.

“Doesn’t hurt to keep you on your toes” you smiled into your phone, unknowing to what Carol looked like.

“Well then, how about tomorrow night? I’ll pick you up from work” she said as you nodded your head before realizing she couldn’t see you.

“Sounds like a date” you chuckled, feeling the sensation of butterflies in your stomach slightly which caught you a bit off guard but enjoying the feeling at the same time.

“Alright, I’ll see you then” Carol said, smiling before placing the phone down and letting out a sigh of relief. Who knew a phone call could make a girl so happy?

-

The next day, Carol had called saying she’d be picking you up right from work which you didn’t mind but would have liked time to change into something better to go out in instead of your work clothes.

You decided against telling your father that you were going on a date with Carol. You knew what his reaction would be to hearing his daughter go out with his new business partner and it wouldn’t be pretty. Plus, he didn’t need to know everything that happened in your private life so there was no harm in keeping it under wraps.

Packing up your things and placing them into your bag, you began to put on your jacket when you heard a knock at your door.

Looking up, you saw your dad as he smiled at you before leaning against the doorway. He gave you an apologetic look and you groaned, stopping your actions, knowing what that look meant.

“I really hate to do this to you” he said, pulling out a stack of paper from behind his back and stretching it out towards you.

“Can’t I do it tomorrow?” You asked, walking slowly towards him, hesitant to take the pile of papers.

“These have to be finalized and in the system by tonight. I’m sorry, I should’ve told you earlier” he said as you sighed, grabbing the stack and turning around, placing them onto your desk.

“That would’ve been nice” you groaned out, beginning to take your jacket off.

“Did you have plans tonight?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you as you walked around your desk, shaking your head and looking up at him.

“No, just was going to go home and watch movies” you said, lying through your teeth, praying he’d buy it. You were a pretty bad liar at times so this was one time you hoped you seemed convincing at least.

Your father looked you up and down before shrugging and giving you an apologetic look. “Well, this would be more eventful then binging a show in one night, right?” He said before getting interrupted by his phone ringing.

Picking it up and stepping out the room quickly, you sat down with a sigh. Now you had to call Carol and change the plans which you really didn’t want to do. You were excited for tonight, hopefully to get to know her better but the universe had other plans in store.

Your father stepped back in, putting his phone away and buttoning his jacket up. “I have to go. I’m meeting with someone over dinner for another deal” he said, looking at you apologetically once more. He walked over to you and pressed a small kiss on your head before walking back over to the door.

“I’m sorry again. Call me if you need anything, okay?” He said as you nodded, waving at him to leave. Letting out a sigh once you were alone, you picked up your phone and dialed Carol’s number, feeling bad to even tell her the change of plans.

“A little eager aren’t we” Carol picked up, a small smirk on her face as you chuckled lightly into the phone and she immediately knew your tone was off.

“Um, I don’t think I can make it. I have to finish up these reports by tonight and I know it’s going to take forever. I’m sorry” you said quickly, wanting to get over with telling her when you were met with silence through the phone.

“Hello?” You asked after a couple seconds, checking to see if you had been disconnected before you heard Carol speak.

“I’ll just come to you” she said, managing a small smile while feeling a bit sad that she couldn’t take you out.

“Are you sure?” You asked, feeling a bit hopeful knowing she suggested coming to your work but not fully feeling excited as you don’t want to jinx it.

“Of course! I’m going to let you reschedule when you just said yes to me” she chuckled which made you let out a small giggle over the phone as you began playing with the phone cord.

“Alright, sounds good then” you said as she nodded, smiling into the phone, feeling that giddy feeling again.

“Is pizza okay? I’ll pick some up on the way there” she asked, beginning to put things away on her desk with her free hand.

“Pizza is perfect” you said as she nodded, closing her drawer before standing up and grabbing her bag, holding the phone with the support of her shoulder.

“Alright, I’ll see you soon” she continued to smile before grabbing the phone with her hand and placing it down onto the receiver.

Placing your phone down, your smile still was on your face and you knew it wouldn’t be wiped off. Getting right into work, you made it your goal to get as much done as you could before Carol came.

-

Rubbing your hands over your face, you let out a sigh as you finally were able to relax a bit after inputting each page into the system online. Moving your hands away, you looked at your watch which read 5:45p. You had been at this for at least two hours and it also meant it’s been two hours since you had called Carol.

Hearing a knock at your door startled you as you turned to see Carol there with a small take out pizza box and a small smile on her face. “Sorry for the wait, the line at the place was long” she said, coming close and placing the box on the desk before standing up and shaking your head at her lightly. 

“Plus, I wanted to give you some time to work since it sounded it was going to be stressful” she said, looking around your desk and seeing all these pages around your desk. “Which I guessed right” she chuckled as you laughed along, gathering the papers and stacking them up nicely.

“Don’t worry about it. I got a pretty good dent in” you smiled at her before looking down, realizing you both needed plates. Excusing yourself, you made your way to the break room, looking in the cabinets for plates and two water bottles for you both before taking them back to your office. 

“Here you go” you said, handing Carol a plate and water bottle to which she said a small “thank you” as you sat down, taking a piece of pizza.

Taking a bite, you looked up at Carol who already had her eyes on you. Raising an eyebrow at her, you swallowed your food before shrugging at her.

“What?” you asked as she chuckled, picking up her napkin and wiping a bit of grease that had dripped onto your chin. 

Her movements were soft on your face and it made your heart feel as though it fluttered in your chest as you watched her hand. Pulling her hand back she smiled at you.

“Just had something on your face” she said before taking a bite of her slice. You sat there a bit dumbfounded before composing yourself and taking a drink from your water bottle as she began to look around your office a bit, getting a sense as to who you were before looking back at you.

“Thanks” you said, as she nodded, taking another bite of her pizza while continuing to look a you. You both sat in silence but it was nice. You’d say a couple words here and there, mainly about your day but it was comforting to have her there with you.

While finishing up her slice, she continued to look around your room, studying it. Studying and looking at every photo on the wall, things on shelves. Carol couldn’t help but smile when she saw photos of you being silly or smiling wide in some. She couldn’t help but think of how cute you looked in them.

Her eyes landed on one of your shelves and she couldn’t help but chuckle to herself. Placing her plate down, she got up and picked up the Magic 8 Ball that sat on your shelf before turning to you, holding it in her hands. She raised an eyebrow at you as you chuckled. Carol used to have one and would always use it so seeing it in your office just brought back memories.

“That’s my luck charm, I’ve had it since...forever” you said, watching her as she shook it, turning it over to read the answer before frowning. Wonder what she asked it.

“Helps me make big decisions. You should invest in one” you joked, smiling at her before getting up and walking over to her.

“Did you ask it about this date?” she quirked, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. You chuckled, taking the ball from her and shaking it, turning it over to see the triangle showing ‘yes’. 

Turning it to Carol, you smiled at her and nodded your head. “But of course, doesn’t hurt to go against the oracle at times” you said, placing it back into her hand. Your fingers brushed hers lightly which made Carol shiver lightly as she looked up at you.

“Is that so?” she looked up at you before turning to place it back on the shelf in its rightful place.

“Didn’t hurt to keep you on your toes for while. I think you’d understand that” you said as she turned back to look at you, a small smirk evident on both your faces but hers read out a different meaning making yours to wipe off your face quickly.

Your confidence quickly went away as you watched her movements. She moved her hand from the magic 8 ball on your shelf before walking over close to you. You moved back until you felt the desk behind you, making you stop.

“You know it’s not nice to lead people on” she said, leaning you against your desk as her body moved closer to yours. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as you looked at her. All of a sudden, you felt hot. Like you were burning up from the inside. 

Her hand made its way to your lower back, supporting you while her other hand moved up to push away a piece of stray hair. Your mind was trying to register all the different sensations you were feeling. From her soft touch on your face to the hand on your back, your head felt fuzzy from it running a mile a minute

Leaning close to your ear, you could feel her breath against your skin and you closed your eyes, feeling soothed and aroused at the same time by the sensation.

“Especially people who really want a chance” she said, placing a small kiss below your ear lobe, making you sigh lightly as she pulled back, looking at you and smirking.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” She said, moving her hand to caress your cheek before completely pulling away from you and began getting ready to leave like nothing happened.

You stayed in the same position, stunned as she put her jacket on and grabbed her bag before turning to you, her smirk still on her face.

“I’ll call you tomorrow” she winked before walking out your office and down the hall. You looked around, still stunned as you sat down on your desk. What the fuck just happened?

———

taglist: @marvelbbyx @mynameispurple @sat-yrr

feedback is appreciated!

[missjanjie]

Somewhere in the Crowd There's You | Rosnali

Summary: Denali and Rosé were best friends all through middle and high school, but had to part ways after graduating in 1998. But even years later, the one thing that always connected them were the mixtapes Rosé would make. Ship: Rosnali Word Count: 2174 Rating: T

ao3 | ko-fi

Bonus: Denali's Playlist for Rosé

-

“Denali, so help me god if you’re late to graduation you will not make it to college!” her mother shouted up the stairs.

Denali groaned and rolled her eyes. “I’m coming!” she yelled back down to her. She pressed ‘stop’ on her CD player and popped the cover open, taking the disk out and putting it into its correct sleeve in her CD book. It was a smaller one, as it only contained her most precious ones - the mixtapes Rosé had given her over the years.

The two of them had been best friends since they had both transferred to the same Manhattan school in sixth grade, Denali coming from Alaska and Rosé from Scotland. Both of them had felt out of place and immediately sought refuge in each other and had been inseparable ever since. And one thing that had always been consistent in their friendship was Rosé’s love of burning CDs and giving them to her, whether it was for a special occasion or just because she thought Denali would like it, and she always did.

“And don’t even think about trying to take your walkman!”

She huffed, looking at it waiting for her on her bed. “Fine,” she threw her gown over her dress and grabbed her cap before hustling out the door.

Any attitude she might have had disappeared the second she got out of the car and saw Rosé. she sprinted towards the taller girl, launching herself into her arms. “Rosie!”

Rosé scooped Denali up without hesitation, one arm wrapped around her waist and the opposite hand holding her thigh. “Hi Dee,” she cooed, spinning around with her before eventually setting her back down. “I got something for you.”

Denali giggled as Rosé reached up under her gown because of course, she would manage to get away with wearing pants at graduation. She beamed from ear to ear as Rosé placed a CD in her hand. Written in pink glitter gel pen over masking tape was ‘Denali + Rosé: Class of ‘98’, with a heart over the ‘i’. She looked at the tracklist and smiled when she saw one was highlighted - that meant Rosé had recorded herself singing, and that was her favorite part. “Super Trouper?” she tilted her head, noting it was the only song on the list that hadn’t come out during their time in high school.

She shrugged, a tinge of pink ghosting her cheeks. “I like ABBA and the song made me think of you.”

“I love it,” she quickly assured, hugging her tightly before sliding the mixtape into her macrame crossbody bag. “Come on, we better go take our seats so we can say goodbye to our childhood.”

Rosé arched her brow. “Bit grim when you put it that way, but let’s go.”

After graduation Rosé and Denali went to dinner together with their families, then back to Denali’s house for a sleepover, likely one of the last ones they would have before college. But they didn’t want to think about that, instead focusing on enjoying the time they had together.

It wasn’t easy for either of them, and Denali was left with a difficult decision. When she was twelve, she acknowledged the fact that she was attracted to girls, but decided it was best to not do anything about it. At sixteen, she realized that it wasn’t just girls in general, that would be too easy to ignore. For the past two years, she had accepted the fact that she was in love with Rosé, but too paralyzed with fear to do anything about it.

So, she made a mixtape. Each song one declaration of love after another. And it had been sitting in her closet for a week now while she tried to talk herself into giving it to her best friend. She knew it was now or never, tonight had to be the night.

“Something on your mind?” Rosé gently prompted.

Denali hesitated, then shook her head. “I’m just gonna miss you,” she told her, sitting next to her cross-legged on the bed. “We’re gonna stay in touch, right?”

“Of course,” Rosé assured. “We can call each other and talk on AIM when we can get to the campus libraries,” she suggested, resting her hand on Denali’s thigh and squeezing gently. “I think we can make it work.”

She chewed on her lip and nodded. “If you think so, then I do too.” She glanced back at her closet, thinking, her heart racing. Rosé cared enough about her to want to make their friendship work. Maybe there was a chance…

“Hey,” Rosé prompted to change the subject, “I rented Cinderella with Brandi from Blockbuster, you wanna watch?”

Denali nodded, letting her fear quell her desire to give her the disk. “Yeah, I’ll go make some popcorn.”

Six Years Later

Manhattan felt almost as foreign to Denali as it did when she first moved there. Despite the nostalgia that filled her when she walked past Broadway, recalling seeing RENT there with Rosé for her eighteenth birthday, or the other little things that brought her back to her teenage years, she felt odd, out of place. It made her stomach churn with the way everything seemed to change.

It didn’t help that, despite all of the promises they had made to each other, she had lost touch with Rosé sometime after the start of her sophomore year. Their lives had gotten so busy, so involved, it just dissipated and she had to try her best to move on.

And most days Denali was able to go about her life as normal. She returned to her apartment with lunch for herself and her roommate. Her new normal. “Liv! Come eat!”

Olivia promptly emerged from her room, a piece of paper in her hand. “Check out this flyer I snagged from the café a few blocks over. They’re having a karaoke night tonight, we should go,” at Denali’s hesitation, she jutted out her bottom lip and batted her lashes. “C’mon, please? They’re gonna have alcohol.”

With a jokingly dramatic sigh, she acquiesced. “Okay, fine, but don’t even think about trying to drag me on stage before I’ve had at least three drinks.”

After lunch, the two of them got ready for the night, doing their hair and makeup and picking out just the right outfits for the modern y2k-era nightlife. The walk to the café was about ten minutes and they were able to get a table before the room started to fill up. Her attention faded in and out as people started to perform, nursing her drink and picking at the chips on the table.

“Alright, who’s next?” the event host prompted, scanning the room. “You, in the pink, right this way!” There were some scattered cheers as a woman took the stage, but Denali didn’t look up until she started singing.

Olivia noticed the sudden alertness in her friend. “What, you’re an ABBA fan?”

“No, no I know that voice,” she insisted, shushing her to focus on the stage better. There was no way, it couldn’t be…

“But I won’t feel blue like I always do. ‘Cause somewhere in the crowd there’s-” Rosé looked into the audience, her eyes meeting Denali’s and her breath hitching in her throat, nearly missing the last word, but when she got it out, it was as if she were singing to her once again, “...you.”

Before Denali could decide what to do, Rosé was making a beeline for her, then she was standing right in front of her, looking more beautiful than Denali could’ve ever anticipated. “Rosie?” she asked softly, afraid it was too good to be true.

A broad smile stretched across Rosé’s face as if she were wondering the same thing until that moment. “Denali!” She yanked the smaller woman to her feet and pulled her into a tight embrace, one that neither of them ever wanted to end. “When did you move back to New York?”

“Couple weeks ago officially. My parents moved out to Long Island, so I was staying with them while I was trying to find a place. That’s how I met Olivia, my roommate,” Denali explained, gesturing to the girl still sitting at the table.

Olivia offered a polite wave and smile in response. “It seems like you guys have some catching up to do, I’m gonna go on stage next then, um, keep myself busy,” she decided and scurried off.

“Let’s go outside,” Rosé suggested, the two of them leaving the café and sitting on a bench in front of it. “I’ve missed you so much. What have you been up to?”

Denali shrugged. “Got my BFA in dance, worked with a few different companies either performing or choreographic. And last year I was in Zumanity, which was quite the experience,” she blushed a bit as she recalled that, unsure if Rosé was familiar with the type of show it was, “and now I’m here as a full-time dance teacher and choreographer. What about you?”

Rosé’s eyes did widen at the name, feeling her face start to redden as her mind started to wander, wondering what sort of things Denali had performed on stage. While she hadn’t seen the show, she had seen commercials when watching TV late at night. She’d nearly missed her question, clearing her throat and centering herself. “Oh, well, my life hasn’t been as interesting as yours, I got my BFA in musical theatre, did various off-Broadway gigs, and… you’re going to laugh… I’m the understudy for the lead role in Mamma Mia here on Broadway.”

“Mamma Mia… the ABBA jukebox musical?” She covered her mouth as she tried not to laugh, a bit of giggling slipping through. “A little on the nose, isn’t it Rosie? But I’m very happy for you.”

“Maybe so, but I’m much more interested in this Zumanity stint. I mean, I always knew you had that skill level but that’s a… unique setting,” Rosé retorted, her interest, and perhaps something more, very piqued.

Denali looked down and grinned. “It was. Everyone there was incredibly talented too, it was so freeing, so queer,” she said, then hesitantly looked back up to reaffirm, “which I also am, you know, gay.”

Rosé chuckled softly and nodded. “I kind of suspected as much, just with the way you reacted when we saw RENT,” she recalled, then quickly followed up with, “I am too.”

An eight-year-long weight lifted from Denali’s chest at the confession. “Do you wanna come back to my place? It’s just a couple of blocks over, we can have a sleepover like we used to,” she suggested.

“I’d love that,” she grinned, and as they walked back to the apartment, she had her arm slung around Denali’s shoulders, not passing up the first opportunity in years to keep her close. Even though it was an apartment she’d never been in before, the fact that it was Denali’s made it feel familiar.

Denali toed out of her shoes and set her purse down. “I have something for you,” she said suddenly, disappearing into her bedroom before Rosé to question her. She rifled through her closet, pulling out a box tucked away and grinning when she found the items she was looking for. It was still a risk, but this time she knew it was one worth taking. She took a deep breath, then rejoined Rosé in the living room. “I kept every mixtape you gave me, still listen to them sometimes,” she said, holding up the CD book in one hand.

“You did?” Rosé put her hand over her chest, beaming warmly. “Dee, that’s so sweet.”

She smiled, biting her lip and looking down, trying to fight away the nerves that crept back up. “I, um, I made you one too. I was going to give it to you after graduation but I chickened out,” she confessed as she handed the mixtape she had hidden among her possessions all these years to the woman she made it for. “I think the tracklist will explain why.”

Rosé’s lips parted in surprise as she gently took it from her. “To Rosie, with love,” she read the title before turning it over to see where Denali had written the songs in silver sharpie. And, sure enough, it was one love song after another, songs she knew well, that she knew the shorter woman spent her time carefully picking out each one. “Oh, Dee, this is beautiful. Honestly, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you gave it to me back then.”

Denali swallowed thickly. “I guess more importantly, what are you gonna do now?”

There was only a half-beat of silence before Rosé smirked, setting the disk on the dining room table before cupping Denali’s face and kissing her deeply, moving one hand from her face to wrap her arm around her body and pull her close. “I’ve always loved you, Denali. I’d just resigned myself to seeing you as the one that got away.”

Denali relaxed, arms looping around Rosé’s neck. “I’m not going anywhere.”

[bluesakurablossom]

Hi! Hope you’re doing well :)

(I’m not sure if this is the right place for requests so I’m sorry if it isn’t)😩

This one is for Bayverse Raph!

So could you do a oneshot where his fem s/o is a famous singer, and him (and his brothers😁)sneak into one of her performances to realize that she wrote a song all about Raph and their relationship? Maybe even some naught innuendos thrown in there if you catch my drift😉😉😉😉

Oh you got it right love! No worries! Oh this ask is amazeballs! I even have a perfect song for the couple! <3 @thatonegothicgirl

Being recognized and famous, that is something that most people would want in their lives. Having so many people look up to you for what you do, inspired to be just like them, and having so much praise, compliments and fans adore you, that sounds like the perfect life. Although it's unfortunately not cut out for some. For Raphael, an unseen hero of the city who saved the world twice from darkness and destruction along side his brothers, it seems like the dream would forever be a dream. Even with the offer given by the police a few years ago, he thought it would be better off staying hidden, that not a lot of people would understand him. Not the way you did.

You were his soul, his heart, his everything. The reason he got up each morning was because of you. You both have been in a relationship for three years now and things have changed for the better. Although fame didn't work out for him, he was more than happy fame worked out for you. You were singing since you were a child and when he first heard your voice when you invited him down to your recording studio, he was smitten. You did all kinds of music from rock, pop, slow songs, but your favorite would have to be country. Even for being a city girl you just felt at home singing country. Although it could be stressful at times, you always made time for each other and could perform a private concert for him every now and again.

You were working on a new song that was an inspiration from the constant support of your lover. You sung the song softly to yourself as you wrote down the notes and lyrics, smiling how well it was coming together. Once you finished your last lyrics, you strummed your guitar as you played out the song, the melody was perfect and described your relationship with your turtle so well. You couldn't wait for him to hear it. Once you put your guitar in its case you got a call from him, playing a fast and furious ringtone. After all you both were addicted to the movie series.

"Hey baby!" His deep voice heard on speaker

"Hey yourself Vin Diesel", You giggled, making him chuckle. You actually said part of your song without him realizing it, you were so excited you had to bite your lip to from squealing "You coming to my concert tonight?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, have any idea where we can sneak in?"

You walked out further on to the stage that soon would be filled with thousands of your fans and spotted an overhang where the jumbotron was hanging for other events at the stadium. "I got an idea, you know the jumbotron where you guys go to Madison Square for basketball games you hide out in, you guys can hide in the one here, its right above the catwalk!"

"Sounds like a plan, be the best seats in the house!"

You smiled to yourself and looked down at your papers in your hands. "Oh forgot to mention I have a new song written up I am trying out tonight!"

Raph perked up a bit hearing that. "Well I have a feeling I am gonna love it just like all your other songs, just as much as I am gonna love seeing you in those favorite tight jeans of mine"

"Count on it big boy, well I think this one you are really gonna love, cause its pretty special, can't wait for you to hear it" You giggled innocently

"Well I can't wait to hear it, I will see ya soon beautiful!" His deep Brooklyn accent murmured before giving you an air smooch

You smiled hanging up and started to prepare for the concert. A few hours later, the stadium was filled up with every seat taken and you peeked out from around the corner and could see the many anticipating fans ready to hear you perform. You felt your phone vibrate in your tight jeans, and saw a text from your boyfriend. "Look up"

You looked up and saw Raphael and his brothers waving from inside of the jumbotron and you jumped with excitement, they were just in time. "Get ready for the new song!"

You placed your phone in your back pocket, and walked out on stage and the noise level sky rocketed, enough to drown out the noise that is made in the city you called home, as you carried your guitar waving to your fans. When you got the microphone, you smiled happily and looked up to see the boys waiting excitedly and you looked towards your fans getting closer to the mic and began to talk.

"Support. Support is everything. It helps someone get through the hardest parts of one's journey and you will always know that they got your back no matter what. Tonight I have something special for you all, this song I wrote was an inspiration for someone who has been there for me for many years and someone that I love very much, I wouldn't be where I was it wasn't for him. Whenever I would be at my lowest during my career, he was always there to make it alright. And he is out here tonight and I wanted to say, I love you Raphael"

The crowd awed at your sweet words and you looked slightly up to see your turtle looking at you with surprise, you wrote a song about you two? This was something he wasn't expecting and you give him a wink and began to play your guitar with the rest of your band playing behind you.

Somedays its just tough getting up

Throwing on these boots and making that climb

Somedays I rather not show and lie low

Before I lose my mind

But when he says baby

Oh no matter what may come my way, he ain't going no way

He runs his fingers through my hair

And saves me

Oh that look in his eye gets me coming alive

And driving me a good kind of crazy

When he says baby! Oh when he says baby!

Some nights I come home stressing mad

Feeling like running my fists through the walls

Is it even worth what I have been fighting for, I am feeling torn

Oh the hell with it all!

But when he says baby, oh matter what may come my way

He ain't going no way, he runs his fingers through my hair

And he saves me

Oh that look in his eye gets me coming alive

And driving me a good kind of crazy

When he says baby! Oh when he says baby!

Everything will be alright, just lay down my side

Let me love you through this ride

Yeah he is a perfect man of faith

When every bit of my own is gone

Something I can have in a best friend

And heaven sent me a love to lean on

When he says baby, oh no matter what may come my way

He ain't going no way, he runs his fingers through my hair

And he saves me

Oh that look in his eye gets me coming alive

And driving me a good kind of crazy

When he says baby! Oh when he says baby!

Yeah that look in his eye gets me coming alive

And driving me a good kind of crazy!

When you finished your song, the crowd went wild with cheering for your new song and you couldn't help but smile with happiness, it was a huge success. You looked up to the jumbotron and saw the boys above cheering for you and you came to lock your eyes on your lover and there was that same look in his eyes that got your heart racing and he licked his lower lip.

You blushed all pink in your cheeks and you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. You bowed to your fans before running across the stage to get ready for your next song and you went behind the curtain and pulled out your phone to see a text from him. "Oh so my look in my eye drives you crazy huh? Well after this concert is over, get ready for a back stage experience and I think you know what is gonna happen, a new inspiration for a new song and my hands all over that ass"

"And you will get the VIP treatment ;)" You giggled to yourself and couldn't wait for the night to be over to finally have him in your arms.

[teacup-set]

Giants

Summary: 'Thank you for the recipe', her note says, but what she really means is 'thank you for raising me, thank you for making me who I am.' She knows mama will know what she means, she always does. [SSS family]

Read on: AO3, FFN

x

The sun is low on the horizon and the sky looks like it's on fire. The contrast of the world has shifted, and the aged rust-orange of the hokage tower looks burning red like its early days. The villagers often joke that the sun burns brighter these days because there is a flame-fanning uchiwa in the hokage office, that the will-of-fire that was once a flickering flame is now a ferocious katon. 

In her office chamber, Sarada feels much more muted, heaving under the weight of the faith people put in her. This had always been her dream and she harbored no disillusion about how difficult it is to be hokage. And yet, she is crumbling. The kage summit that she is organizing looms on the horizon, and every half hour there seems to be a new logistical difficulty without fail. Just the administrative nightmare that is hosting the world's most powerful dignitaries in an event that is without a doubt a beacon for those with ill-intent has eaten up all her time. She hasn't even gotten to thinking about the delicate issues and negotiations she has to raise at the summit. She is overwhelmed, but people depend on her so she can't let it show. Part of her wants to run to her parents home, because there she is still a child, free from the weight of the world on her shoulders. There is no time for that though. Her parents, along with the Uzumakis, moved out from Konoha some years ago, choosing to spend their retirement away from the shinobi world in a rural part of Fire country. It would take too long to make the trip, and there is still much to do for the summit. 

Sarada eyes the phone on her desk. 'I could call, I suppose.'

Without thinking about it too much, she dials the number. By the second ring, she remembers to cough and clear her throat lest her voice gives away her frustration. By the fourth, her mother picks up. 

"Hello?" 

"Hi, mama!" says Sarada, forcing cheer into her voice. 

"Sarada! How are you sweetie?" Sakura chimes. Already, Sarada feels lighter. 

"I am good, mama. How are you and papa?" asks Sarada, resting her chin on her palm. 

"We are both well sweetheart, though you and the others should drop by once in a while," her mother's voice becomes fainter as she speaks, like she is turning away from the mouthpiece, "Otherwise your father and uncle Naruto will keep trying to fill the void by acting like children themselves." and Sarada imagines her mother is eyeing some mess they have made in the background. She laughs. 

"Okay, okay, I will try to make a trip soon." she concedes. The line is silent for a second. 

"Sarada, is everything okay?" Sakura asks, and immediately Sarada wants to kick herself for thinking she could ever fool her mother. Both her and her papa agree, they could give the whole world the slip, but mama knows them by heart. 

"Yeah, of course." Sarada attempts, and from the silence from the other end she knows she has failed. "It's nothing, mama. Just stressed. The hokage summit is next week and Konoha is hosting." she admits in defeat. 

"Oh darling, that's a lot of work. Are you holding up okay?" 

Sarada wants to refrain from worrying her mother, but it is a chance to finally vent out all that she has been holding in and she is verging on desperate so she bites. 

"I...don't know mama. There is a lot to do." she starts, "I am still trying to take care of all the security measures. There is tension between Kumo and Hoshi, and they will not allow the Raikage delegation to cross into the land of fire." 

"Iwa and Oto have also been bickering. I really hope they will behave at the summit, otherwise I don't know how I'll handle them." she sighs and continues as Sakura patiently listens, "Even beyond the kage summit there is more to do. There have been a few bad harvests near the south east border, and sending provisions from the center's stock takes too long. Most of it rots by the time it gets there. The Fire Daimyo asked the Daimyo of Tea country to help since they are closer, but they refuse. Apparently we have 'a history of not interfering in each other's affairs' and that's how they want to keep it. Can you believe that?" she huffs angrily. 

"Sarada, is this line secure?" Sakura asks, her voice level. 

"Uh, yeah. I am calling from my office." Sarada replies, taken aback by her mother's sudden question. 

"Okay." Sakura begins, "The daimyo is wrong. Fire country and Tea country don't interact because of Tea country's reluctance to interact with nations that have shinobi villages. But during the time Lord Second was Hokage, Tea was experiencing tensions with Sea Country. Something to do with ships from Sea Country intercepting the cargo from Tea, I think? Anyway, they had requested help from Fire country then." 

Sarada sits up straighter, listening attentively. 

"They requested the Leaf to assassinate one of the people involved. They happened to be a higher-up in Sea country's government, and if the responsible party was discovered it would have caused a scandal." Sakura explained, "An ANBU unit was dispatched to take care of it, without any official mission report or paper transaction to make sure it would not be traced. But just in case they were discovered, to ensure that the Leaf would not be held responsible as the perpetrator, the Second kept a signed declaration from the Tea Daimyo sealed away. You should be able to find it in Lord Second's section of the records room. Not only is it proof that Fire and Tea have been involved in each other's affairs, this is information that Tea would very much like to avoid from entering the public domain. It might help you make your case, though I can't imagine how wicked someone would have to be to refuse to feed the hungry." Sakura finishes, sounding angered. 

Sarada is stunned. After quickly jotting down a note to check the records room, she pauses. Then slowly realization dawns. To her, mama is mama. Mama who braids her hair, always overcooks the fish, and doesn't believe in separating laundry by colours. But mama is also Uchiha Sakura. She was trained by two hokage, and was also on the same team as one (-and a half). For the longest time, she was also the director of the hospital and one of Konoha's most prestigious diplomats. There is perhaps no one in the village who has been in and out of the hokage building more than mama has. Of course she would know. Mama always has the answers, after all. 

"I...thank you, mama." Sarada stumbles, still basking in the awe of her belated realization. 

"Shh, sweetheart, don't thank me." from behind her, Sarada hears movement in the background, and then her papa's voice- 

"Who is it?" Sasuke inquires, asking Sakura. 

"It's Sarada, my love." Sarada blushes slightly, still embarrassed by her parents' affections towards each other, as she listens to her mother catch her father up on their conversation. In the next instant, her papa is on the phone. 

"Sarada. There is an alternate route from Kumo to Konoha through a set of islands near Whirlpool. I am sending you a map, await my hawk." her father's steady, reassuring voice carries through the phone. 

Once again, Sarada has to reckon with who her parents really are. Her memories of her father revolve around eating breakfast in the early mornings, packing lunches for mama, and throwing Kunai in the afternoons. But her father has traveled the whole world, and not just this one. He has inherited knowledge from the founder of the shinobi world itself. There is so much in this world that only he knows. 

"I will, papa, thank you." Sarada says, in a daze. 

"Hn." her father replies, satisfied, and then her parents have swapped the phone again. 

"Sweetie, is there anything else we can do?" worry rings in her mother's voice. 

The laundry list of tasks she has to complete is still infinite, but suddenly Sarada's heart is inflated again. She is ready. 

"No, mama, I can handle the rest." she says with confidence. 

She hears the smile in her mama's voice. "Of course you can, love." 

"You're doing a much better job than the idiot." Her father mutters in the background. 

Sarada gazes at her reflection in the window of her office. Staring back at her are her father's eyes, and the purple diamond on her forehead passed down from her mother. Her eyes trail to the hokage regalia hanging next to the door, but instead of feeling daunted, she is reminded of her earliest memory of them. The same cloak and hat, hanging on the back of a dining chair in her childhood home, first when Lord Sixth would come over for dinner, and then Lord Seventh. The same cloak that would hang between her father's dark one and her mother's lab coat, the same place it still belongs. It dawns on her simply. She was born to giants. She was raised by giants. And she is a giant too. 

Her reverie is broken by her mother's voice carrying through the phone. 

"Sarada, have you eaten dinner?" 

Suddenly Sarada wants to burst out laughing. Only her mother could go from delicate, high-risk politics to dinner without a pause. 

"No mama, not yet." she answers, smiling. 

"Sarada!" her mother exclaims, and her father clucks his tongue in disapproval. 

"You must eat, Sarada." her father's stern voice reminds her, and Sarada feels her heart soar. Some things are still simple, and for that she is grateful. 

"Oh, Sarada! Your father and I tried a new silken tofu recipe! You will like it, I am sure. I will send it with your father's hawk!" her mother gushes, then turns to her father, "Darling, do you think we could send some of the cucumbers we harvested, too? They will pair well." 

Her father grunts in approval and already Sarada can hear him walking away, no doubt to ready his bird. 

"We won't keep you anymore sweetie, you have work to do. Just make sure you eat!" her mother chides. 

Sarada wants to tell her, 'You aren't keeping me from anything. I will make time for you always. I love you with all my heart.' Instead she says- 

"Okay, mama. I will see you both soon." because she will, and then she will tell them. 

"Alright then. Bye sweetheart." Sarada savors the cadence of her mother's voice and then the phone disconnects, leaving her in the silence of her office. 

Outside the sun has set, but Sarada's heart is ablaze anew.

x

The hokage summit is completed, treaties are negotiated, the famine is tackled, and just as it always has been, new problems swiftly replace the old ones. Sarada is unflinching, she knows she will solve them, just as she always has. 

She finishes tying an envelope to the messenger hawk she is sending her parents’ way. Inside is a photograph of the silken tofu she made, and a note. 

'Thank you for the recipe', it says, but what she really means is 'thank you for raising me, thank you for making me who I am.' She knows mama will know what she means, she always does.

Fin.

AN: Inspired by the poem “My mother texts me instructions to cook silken tofu” by Sue Zhao, and my general dislike of being grown up. 

[harmonizingsunsets]

I can feel your heart beating under my skin

Day 4 of Kate x Anthony week, prompt: no ifs, ands, or buts.

Archive link here.

(Also inspired by the leaked photos of season 2)

The Bridgertons invited the three Sharma's out for the last horse race of the season for entertainment. However, Kate knew this was all a scheme so Anthony could spend more time with Edwina. She didn't doubt the Bridgertons enjoyed watching a horse race, as they seem like the competitive sort. But, she knew Anthony's true intentions behind the invitation.

When they arrive at the event, Anthony's waiting right in the front. He smiles from across the way, and it grows even more prominent as Kate intensifies her glare.

"He looks rather handsome today, don't you think?" Edwina whispers.

"The color doesn't suit him," Kate shakes her head. However, her eyes linger up and down his form. "But I don't blame the shade. I don't think anything suits him."

"You both are wearing blue. It's like fate!"

Kate thinks that if fate was involved, it's more so a cruel twist of it than any romantic notions Edwina has in her mind.

As they near Anthony, his eyes find hers. She tries conveying as much distaste for being in his company that she can, without looking too impolite. Within a few seconds, Mary nudges her arm, making Kate think she hadn't succeeded in being conspicuous of her hatred.

He and the other Bridgertons escort them inside, but Kate stops by the betting area. It leads her and Anthony to row about the horses.

Kate wants to place a bet on the horse Apollo. While she's never been to a race in person, she keeps up with records in the paper. The odds aren't in his favor, as it's his first season, but he's been improving steadily over the past few months. Kate has a feeling that today will be his day.

Anthony, however, was placing all his money on Archer, the favorite of the year. Kate forces herself to raise her head high as she places her bet, showing complete confidence in her choice despite Anthony's warnings.

Edwina and Mary didn't place any bets. To be fair, Kate hadn't planned to make a bet either. However, she seems to be doing many unexpected things whenever she's in the presence of Lord Bridgerton.

When they make it up the steps to their seats, Kate asserts herself between Edwina and him. Anthony gives her an annoyed look, knowing what she's doing. Kate smiles broadly in response, turning her face towards the track.

"You can still back out, you know," Anthony whispers beside her. "They usually don't let people retract their bets, but I think they could make an exception. You know, if I tell them you're soon to be part of my family."

"No exception needs to be made. I am not backing out," Kate states firmly. "Why would I, when I have the winning horse?"

"Your winning horse hasn't won a single race in his career."

"It's his first year. His career is just getting started," Kate defends, squirming slightly. "Today is the day he will succeed."

"It's just like you not to root for the most accomplished horse, the one with the most promising record. Your logic goes beyond sense."

"And your pride goes beyond reason," Kate snaps.

"Beyond reason? Status, money, and coming from a good family are not reasons?"

Kate frowns, knowing that they are good reasons. They are reasons that would make any other sister proud to approve of such a match for their sibling. But it wasn't fair that Edwina had to take on so much pressure to marry well. Edwina should marry someone she has affection towards, who isn't such a rake.

But while Kate knows Edwina didn't love Anthony, nor would ever love him, she knows Edwina could be content. Anthony could give her anything she desired. She would be a viscountess, and their marriage, while not founded in love, could perhaps be based on respect. Most people were not so lucky to have such a match.

Yet, Kate couldn't approve the union. Not just because he was a rake, or because Kate found him intolerable—but because of something else. Something she can't describe but can feel twisting painfully in her gut whenever she pictures Edwina and Anthony together.

"They are reasons that society values, and I cannot ignore having merit," Kate relents after a moment, her words careful but firm. "But, they are not the only factors that matter."

Anthony's anger fades a little, his eyes focusing intently on hers. "What factor am I missing?"

Kate opens her mouth to respond but finds her throat dry. Anthony's eyes pivot their focus on her eyes to her parted lips.

She feels something undefinable in her stomach again. But this time, it's not a painful sensation. It's something warm and is more of a fluttering feeling instead of a tug. The only thing similar to what she feels when thinking of Edwina and Anthony is the same deep ache. It starts in the pit of her stomach and flows throughout her body.

Kate's startled out of her thoughts as she hears a horse neighing in the distance, kicking at the doors that contain them.

"It's about to start," Kate says, standing up with the rest of the crowd.

Anthony blinks a few times as if he'd just looked right into the sunlight and nods.

They both turn to the track. The crowd is abuzz with excitement. Kate hears someone countdown, and the horses begin running.

Kate gets swept up in it, standing up and shouting encouragement as Apollo gallops farther forward each second. Anthony cheers loudly for his horse beside her, who has a lead over the rest.

Kate also hears what she thinks are curses from Lady Danbury behind them. She mutters something about ill-advice she'd gotten before the race.

As the horses round the corner, Apollo edges past Archer, his speed increasing. Kate, in her excitement, whistles loudly, not caring at the moment how unladylike she appears.

When the horses are a few feet within the finish line, Kate feels a flash of lightning strike her palm.

Anthony's hand is suddenly in hers, gripping it tightly in anticipation as he watches the race.

Kate's breath comes in and out more sharply, unable to steady the pace of it. Her senses, instead, are all at work in her hand. They memorize the grooves of his palm and the warmth of his touch.

At that moment, Kate thinks her hand has never served its entire purpose as a hand until Anthony held onto it.

Apollo was edging past Archer, but her eyes couldn't focus on the horse. She stares at his bare hand, resting on top of her glove. Kate finds herself curious how it would feel if she took her glove off and entwined her fingers with his.

If Anthony's hand on her glove summoned lighting, she can't imagine what kind of storm would appear if his skin brushed against hers.

As the crowd's cheers become louder, she forces her eyes towards the track and sees her horse cross the finish line. Anthony's hand falls from hers, his mouth wide in shock. Kate jumps up and down in delight.

"I won!"

"You didn't win. The horse did," Anthony says bitterly.

"The horse I bet on, the one you said I was a fool to choose because no one else bet on it." Kate folds her arms across her chest with a triumphant smirk. "Well, Lord Bridgerton, sometimes the best bets are on overlooked things."

Anthony's disappointed expression falters, his eyes studying her intently.

"Perhaps you're right," he murmurs.

Kate smirks. "Did you just say I'm right?"

"I said perhaps," he specifies with a roll of his eyes. "I should fetch some refreshments if you're feeling faint and missing entire words from other's sentences."

"I don't feel faint. Actually, I feel better than I have in a long time."

Edwina stands from where she had remained sitting the entire race. "I could do with a refreshment."

Anthony startles a bit, appearing as if he'd forgotten she was there.

"Ah, yes...of course. I shall return shortly."

"When you return, I shall be a richer woman," Kate says before he turns away, unable to resist continuing to jest about his loss. "I will pay you back for the refreshment since you are recently low on money."

"You are not a humble winner, Ms. Sharma."

"No, but I am a victorious one."

He shakes his head at her, but she can see a bit of amusement twitching at his lips as he turns away. Kate watches him leave for a moment. When she turns back around, she sees Edwina watching her with a coy smile.

"So, did you enjoy the race?" Kate asks.

"Not as much as I enjoyed watching you and Lord Bridgerton."

Kate gaps at her sister. "What are you referring to?"

"Oh, please! He forgot I was next to him. His only focus was on the horses, you, and your hand."

Kate shifts her feet awkwardly. "Perhaps he thought it was yours."

"Or perhaps, your hand was more enticing than mine."

Kate sighs. "Edwina, that's not—."

"Kate, it's alright," Edwina assures, not looking bothered in the slightest.

"No, it's not," Kate insists. "He's your suitor, a suitor who I do not approve of but is one nonetheless. He should pay attention to you and not the horses."

Edwina puts her hands on her hips. "Or perhaps, he's taking your advice and paying attention to a bet that's overlooked but extremely valuable."

Before Kate can respond, Anthony approaches their side, holding out glasses of water. "Here are the refreshments."

Edwina takes a glass, but Kate doesn't take hers, stepping around him. "I should head up to the box to claim my winnings."

"Would you like me to accompany you?"

Kate narrows her eyes. "I think I can make it a few yards without a gentlemen's protection."

"Excluding my brothers in attendance, most men here are not gentlemen," he argues.

"Yes, especially when putting you into account," Kate says, enjoying the way his face hardens at her insult. "But, I think I can manage."

She doesn't want to leave Edwina alone with him, but Mary is on her other side, and his brothers are close as well. She doesn't trust Anthony as far as she can throw him, but she doubts anything improper would occur in such a public place or the presence of family members.

After claiming her winnings, Kate begins to walk back to her seat but bumps into Mrs. Bridgerton.

"Congrats on your win, Ms. Sharma," Violet says before Kate can get out her apology.

"Thank you, Mrs. Bridgerton," she says. "Did you bet on one of the horses?"

"I bet on something before the race, but it wasn't on one of the horses."

Kate quirks her head. "Oh really?"

"It was a bet that Colin proposed, that Benedict bet against, and I bet for," she explains, a joyful sparkle in her eyes. "I am proud to say that my son Benedict lost."

"What was the bet? That Lady Danbury would jump and ride her horse to victory if it hadn't gone fast enough?"

"No, but that would have been quite the sight," Violet chuckles.

"Then what was it about?"

"Let's just say the horses we bet on are closer than the ones on the track."

Kate's face flushes, and Violet's smile widens.

"Have a good afternoon, Ms. Sharma. Wish your sister my best."

"I...yes, of course," she stutters.

Instead of rejoining the group, Kate waits for them near the entrance gate. But she's not alone for too long. She sees Anthony approaching her by himself. The others must be still chatting in their seats. Kate considers turning away, but she knows it would look like she's trying to escape from him.

"So, you gathered your winnings for the horse?" he asks, pointing at the pouch in her hand.

"I—uh, yes. It's from no other bet, I assure you."

"You're cowering out on gambling after you've had your first win?" Anthony steps towards her and shrugs. "Just as well, it was due to beginners' luck, anyway."

"It was not luck. I made the right bet," Kate corrects. "Why can't you admit that I bested you?"

"Where would be the fun in that?"

"This is fun?"

Anthony's eyes gleam wickedly. "Well, it is, isn't it?"

Kate's heart quickens, and she takes a step back.

"I should go to my sister, make sure you didn't sneak some potion into her drink to convince her that you're not intolerable," Kate says, changing the topic. "But if such a potion did exist, I doubt it would be strong enough."

As Kate begins to walk back, she uses the railing on the other side for balance. But as she reaches the edge, a nail snags on her glove, slashing right through it.

Kate curses under her breath, clutching her hand. Anthony quickly runs to her side, eyes wide and worried.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. I just tore my glove."

"And cut your hand," Anthony adds and holds out his palm to her. "Let me see, Ms. Sharma."

Kate whips her arm behind her back. "I am perfectly alright."

Anthony steps closer, a more serious look on his face than she's ever seen on him.

"Let me see."

It's not a question. There are no ifs, ands, or buts about Anthony's tone. Kate pulls her hand out from behind her back and hesitantly holds it out to him. Anthony takes it, gently slipping off her glove and inspecting the wound.

Kate forces herself not to shudder as his fingers dance across her skin. She knows he's trying to observe the cut, but his thumb lingers on each line of her hand, and he draws circles on her palm unnecessarily.

Anthony's heartbeat somehow passes through his touch, and she feels it beating underneath her skin.

"It's not too deep. Perhaps an ointment would make it heal within a week or two," Anthony says, his voice somewhat lower than before. He turns to look at the glove in his other hand, which has a large hole in it. "But I'm not sure your glove is as salvageable."

"I could sew it, but it would look rather obvious," Kate sighs sadly. "I better toss it."

She goes to reach for the glove, but Anthony pulls it out of her reach. "I'll take care of it."

"Discarding one glove won't make me change my mind about you and Edwina," Kate protests.

"I doubt it would," Anthony says, looking like he's fighting off a smile. "But just the same, I'll take care of it."

Kate wants to argue but sees that this is something even she can't move him on. She nods and continues her way back to their seats.

But, she unwisely spares a glance back at Anthony. He doesn't toss the glove. Instead, he pockets it.

Kate forces her eyes forward, trying not to get carried away in romantic notions that could never apply to her.

When she makes it back to the stands, she finds Edwina waiting for her.

"There you are, what took you so—wait, a different question," Edwina cuts herself off, looking down at Kate's bare hand. "Where is your glove?"

"Oh, I tore it against a nail."

"Where is the glove? Perhaps I can mend it."

Kate waves her off. "No, that's alright."

As Edwina studies her curiously, Kate thinks back to the feeling of Anthony's hand on hers and the weight of his stare.

Kate's previous notion had been correct. Anthony's bare hand in hers did bring forth a storm. It was a storm that was unpredictable and dangerous but alluring all the same.

"I have a feeling that glove is something I can never get back once given," Kate whispers, so quietly that Edwina doesn't hear a single word.

As they leave, Kate sees the clouds darkening and brewing with newfound energy. It tells her the storm isn't over.

Instead, it's just beginning.

[slippinmickeys]

Five Seconds (1/8)

This is the sequel to “Of the Eight Winds,” which began from a small simple prompt from Sunflowerdeedsandscience: “Mulder is unhappily married when Scully is partnered with him, and while he doesn't cheat (because sorry that's not romantic), he falls for her so hard that he finally gets the courage to end the marriage and start fresh.” That prompt took on a life of its own that became ‘Of the Eight Winds.’ This fic immediately follows the events of that piece — I would encourage reading it first if you haven’t.

This is not written in the same Rashomon structure as the original — it is absolutely linear. Hope that doesn’t throw anyone.

I’ll be posting the first two chapters today, and then one chapter a day until next Monday. You can also find it on AO3 here.

PROLOGUE

They say in the heat of the moment, you have five seconds to make a decision. Five seconds between right and wrong. Five seconds between life and death. As Mulder stood watching one gun pointed at his children and another pointed at an immensely pregnant Scully, five seconds seemed an eternity.

XxXxXxXxXxX

6 Months Earlier

She watched the house from the shadows. Occasionally from her car. It was harder to follow the woman as she worked at a secure government facility, but the man was easy. He had a small private psychology practice in a townhouse in Old Town. He usually ate lunch at a Panera near the office or brown bagged it from home.

The kids both attended a private prep school out in McLean. The girl drove herself and her brother most days. The boy would often stay late for sports practice (ice hockey, if the equipment was any indication) and the man would usually pick him up. Their lives were pretty routine.

After two weeks, she finally made an appointment with the man’s scheduling service and waited nervously in the outer office. Right on time, he opened the door.

“Olivia?” Dr. Mulder smiled at her, “come on back.”

She passed him through the doorway and settled into a plush leather couch.

He sat down in a chair across from her and crossed his leg, looking relaxed. Up close, she noticed that his hair was starting to grey at the temples, but he still looked fit, and conveyed an easy manner.

“Thank you for seeing me,” she said, trying to calm her nerves.

“Of course,” he said, looking down at his notebook, “I see you were referred to me by Dr. Heitz Werber?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself,” he said.

She took a breath.

“I grew up here in DC. After grad school… My father worked for the State Department and I, uh, went into the family business.”

Dr. Mulder nodded, his expression neutral.

“I can imagine that’s pretty stressful work,” he said.

“It was,” she said, “I don’t do it anymore.”

He nodded again, waiting for her to fill the silence. She went on.

“The work I did… it hurt people. And I’m… I’m trying to make amends.”

His expression gave nothing away. She steeled herself, took a deep breath.

“Dr. Mulder, my name is Olivia Kurtzweil. Our fathers knew each other a long time ago. I’m here to warn you. You and your family are in danger. Your wife and her baby…”

His nostrils flared, but he maintained his composure.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out several pictures.

“I can prove it,” she said, “This is me and my father, this is me and your sister Samantha. And this is our fathers together.”

“I think you need to leave,” he said, his voice tight for the first time. He was not looking at the pictures.  

She rose.

“There’s not a lot of time.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper with a phone number on it, set it next to the pictures, which she left on the office’s small coffee table. “Call me at this number. Soon. I’ll tell you all I can.”

With that she left, her heart hammering in her chest.

CHAPTER ONE

Arlington Cemetery May 2nd, 2018

Mulder descended the stairs quickly, the leather bottoms of his dress shoes scraping loudly on the dusty grit of the steps. The occupants of the underground lair were the perfect people to call when you needed information, but good housekeepers they were not.

He entered the code on the security box at the door at the bottom of the staircase, and the door swung open.

“Guys?” he called into the cavernous space once the door sealed shut behind him.

“In here!” he heard a muffled call from near the back.

He stepped around gunmetal shelves awash in circuitry and computer parts and turned right into the sanctum sanctorum of the place: the desktop on which sat the AMD Threadripper 3000. Two men were hunched over the screen, one sitting, one standing just behind him.

Grease-stained napkins were wadded up next to the keyboard and crinkled butcher paper sat nearby, sporting the red-splotched remains of marinara sauce and a few errant banana peppers.

“You want a meatball sub, Mulder?” came the nasally voice of the man standing, “We got extra.”

“I don’t relish the thought of being up all night with heartburn, Langly, but thanks,” Mulder said, and Frohike turned from the chair, his wispy hair now more white than grey.

“They’re from Gino’s,” he said around a mouthful, “you’re missing out.”

“Tell that to Gino,” Mulder said, “didn’t he die of a heart attack in ‘04?”

“His wife is still running the place, bursting with health,” Frohike said, and reached for a styrofoam cup.

“But she doesn’t eat the subs,” said Mulder, and swung into a nearby chair. “Where’s Byers?”

“Staying with Suzanne for the weekend,” Langly said, like he couldn’t imagine why.

“Is that safe?” Mulder asked. The Gunmen had been hiding out in a government-built safehouse under their own graves in Arlington Cemetery for more than a decade.

Langly shrugged.

The three men looked at each other for a moment. Finally, Mulder spoke again.

“What did you find?”

“Enough,” said Frohike, turning back to the screen. Mulder stood and walked up behind him.

Frohike tapped a picture on the screen.

“Olivia Kurtzweil,” he said, “born December 4th, 1963, daughter of Dr. Alvin Kurtzweil and Ruth O’Brien Kurtzweil. Graduated from Sidwell Friends School in Washington DC in 1981, got a PhD in both Biology and Virology from Boston University in 1987. Employment records get kind of muddled after that, but it would make sense if she worked for the State Department, though what a Biologist/Virologist would be doing for State is troubling.”

Mulder leaned back. It was the same woman who’d been in his office earlier that day.

“And the pictures?” he asked, “of our fathers together? Of her and Samantha?”

“The real McCoy,” Langly said, “they don’t appear to be altered in any way. Sent them to Chuck Burks, too. He concurs.”

Mulder sighed heavily.

“What’s going on, Mulder?” Frohike asked, his tone serious.

“She came to my office today, Olivia Kurtzweil,” he said, nodding at the screen, “she told me that Scully is in danger.”

“In danger?” Langly said, puzzled, “how?”

“Scully is…” Mulder paused, “she’s pregnant,” he said, and he saw both men’s eyebrows go up. “This woman told me that our family... that Scully and the baby are in danger.”

Frohike and Langly traded looks.

“We haven’t told anyone about the pregnancy,” Mulder went on, “and Scully’s OB is an old friend from med school that she trusts implicitly. This Kurtzweil woman knows about the baby and insists it’s in danger. I need to know what’s going on.”

“Firstly,” said Frohike, who stood and put a hand on Mulder’s shoulder, “Mazel tov.” Mulder smiled at him. “Secondly,” he went on, “it appears as though this woman is telling the truth -- at least about who she is -- I would talk to her. See what you can find out.”

“How’s Scully taking this?” Langly asked.

“I haven’t told her yet,” Mulder said, and the boys traded another look. “I didn’t want to scare her without knowing more.”

Frohike squeezed his shoulder again and then let his arm fall.

“Let us know, huh?” he said, “However we can help.”

Mulder nodded and drifted back toward the door, a ball of worry sitting heavy in his gut.

XxXxXxXxXxX

“Where are the kids?” he asked as soon as he walked in the kitchen. He hadn’t even taken off his coat.

“I had a good day, thanks for asking,” said Scully with a grin. She was loading the dishwasher and turned to look at him. Her face fell, turning serious. “The kids are upstairs. What’s wrong?”

“I had a patient come in today…” he started, and her features softened. She probably thought it was just empathy for one of his patients, a tough case. “Scully, she showed me a picture of herself as a kid. With Samantha.”

“What?” Scully said, standing up straight, “how?”

“I don’t know,” he said, and moved past her and into the living room, making for the bookshelf that held old family photo albums. He pulled one out and skimmed through it. Pulled out another. Halfway through, something caught his eye and he flipped back a couple of pages until he saw it. A picture from the same 70’s-era party at his childhood home on the Vineyard that Olivia had shown him. There was his father standing next to Alvin Kurtzweil, and down in the corner, both wearing swimsuits and gap-toothed smiles, pigtails frizzy and wet, sat Samantha and a 7 year-old Olivia Kurtzweil.

He felt his breath leave him.

Scully had come up quietly behind him, put her hand on his arm.

“Mulder?” she said.

“I need to make a call,” he said.

He pulled the note Olivia had left with him out of his pocket. She picked up on the first ring.

“Olivia, this is Dr. Mulder,” he said. “We need to talk.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

The next morning at 9:00am, they found themselves sitting across their kitchen table from Olivia Kurtzweil, Special Agent Monica Reyes, ASAC John Doggett and Assistant Director Walter Skinner.

Scully was sitting, arms crossed in front of her defensively, at the head of the table. Reyes sat next to her, looking at Kurtzweil with an equal amount of curiosity and distrust. Doggett was too amped up to sit and paced through their kitchen. Skinner sat, quiet and still, looking as menacing as ever at the far end of the table.

Mulder felt a certain odd protectiveness toward Olivia, and couldn’t help but treat her a bit like a patient.

“Olivia,” he said calmly, “why don’t you start at the beginning.”

The tale she spun was as fantastic as anything they’d ever heard in their years on the X-Files. Olivia had been groomed from childhood to work on what she called “The Project.” When Samantha Mulder had been abducted, The Project had used her DNA to create alien-human hybrids. Throughout the years, these hybrids had been used by different factions of The Project to further their agendas in relation to a colonization project that Olivia said once threatened the world. She had fought with others to bring it down and now, The Project’s last ditch effort to resurrect itself lay in the cells of the child Scully was carrying.

“How was my father involved?” Mulder said, his voice like ice.

“Your father did everything he could to protect you and your sister,” Olivia said after a pause. “He was the person I initially approached when I became disenchanted. He and I worked together for years dismantling everything we could.”

Mulder narrowed his eyes at her.

“You were at my father’s funeral a couple years ago,” he said, recognition dawning on him, “I saw you at his wake.”

Olivia nodded.

“He couldn’t save your sister,” she said, “but he saved you. And in the end, he saved me.”

“My sister,” Mulder said, his stomach feeling as though it were in his feet, “is she alive?”

“No,” Olivia said, “I’m so sorry. And that’s the problem. Your sister’s DNA was the only one that was able to create viable hybrids. Her DNA was the key. And the last living hybrid sacrificed herself before a rogue faction could get her. That rogue faction is after Scully and your baby for the DNA markers particular to your family.”

“Then why aren’t they after me?”

“The particular markers they’re looking for are rendered dormant after a baby is born. The genetic material they can use is only found in--”

Scully spoke for the first time, finishing Olivia’s explanation. “Embryonic stem cells from our baby.”

Olivia looked pained and nodded. “It’s their last, best hope for restarting the program,” she said.

“How do they even know about the pregnancy? We haven’t told a soul.”

“A hack on your medical records is my guess. HIPAA means nothing to these people.”

“I’m less concerned with the how and more concerned with the why,” Mulder said. “You say embryonic cells. That means they’re on a clock, right? Once the baby is born...”

“Destroy the umbilical cord. The placenta. Those cells are only found in a few places. Destroy anything they might be able to use. After that… you and your baby will be safe.”

“So no one else in our family is in danger?” Scully asked. Her eyes darted unconsciously to a family picture that was framed on the wall above Olivia. It was a candid photo, taken the year before when they had hired a photographer to take Lily’s senior portraits. In it, Mulder and Scully were holding hands, looking at their two kids who were laughing about something Will had said. They were all smiling and carefree. In the moment, it felt like a world away.

“I know the technology and the biology it draws from,” Olivia said, “I helped design it. Their only hope is getting their hands on the embryonic stem cells from your baby. If you were planning on getting an amniocentesis test -- don’t.”

“Why not?” Skinner asked, “why not just give them what they want?”

“Because they’ll never stop,” Reyes said.

Olivia shook her head sadly. “She’s right. They take and they take, and they don’t care who gets hurt or what is lost.” She looked to Mulder. “Your father and I worked for years to shut it down. Finish it. Hide your wife. Protect your baby. Once it’s born, you should all be out of danger.”

“Tell me about this rogue faction,” Doggett’s voice coming from the corner of the kitchen startled everyone.

“Mercs for hire,” Olivia said, “Only one of them that I know of is familiar with the working pieces of The Project. I don’t know him well. I only ever saw him in the periphery.”

“Do you have a name?” Doggett asked.

“I doubt it’s his real one,” Olivia said.

“We’ll take whatever you can give us,” said Reyes, who shot a look to Doggett.

“I only ever heard him called ‘Krycek,’” she said.

Mulder felt his gut drop.

XxX

“What do you think?” Mulder asked Scully, as they sat together around their empty dining room table. Doggett, Reyes and Skinner had left and it was nearly noon, the sun bright outside their windows. Nevertheless, the room felt cold. Mulder could feel anxiety press on him from all sides as though he were under water.

“I don’t know what to think,” Scully said, a hand resting unconsciously on her stomach, which had just started to push out. “Mulder, for almost fifteen years our lives have been ordinary, calm. After all this time…? It strains credulity.”

“Scully I would agree with you. But… some of the things we saw when we were on the X-Files… We know credible threats. This feels like a credible threat.”

“Do you really believe everything she said? About your sister?” He could see her skeptical reserve crumbling.

Mulder let that question sit in the air for several long moments. “Just tell me if the science checks out,” he finally said.

Scully huffed an almost amused sigh. “I couldn’t even begin to-” she started.

“Scully, you yourself were filling in the blanks of Olivia’s story. If what she says is true, does the science check out?”

Scully gave him a long look. “Yes,” she finally said.

He held her gaze, a feeling of overwhelming affection coming over him. “Scully,” he said quietly, “we have to get you somewhere safe.”

She looked down, added another hand to her abdomen so she was cradling it with both. On the countertop, there was a half drunk bottle of Deer Park and a single yellowing banana. Someone had left their iPhone headphones sitting in a semi-coiled loop, and there were crumbs in front of the toaster, dishes in the sink. They sat in the middle of a half-lived life.

“I won’t leave without you,” she finally said, “without you and the kids. We all do this together. If the threat is really what Kurtzweil says it is, I couldn’t bear the thought of them trying to use you or the kids to get to me.”

Mulder nodded curtly.

“I’ll go to the guys,” he said, “see what they can do for us. Skinner and Doggett and Reyes will do what they can to protect us, but I think given everything we’ve heard, it’s best to avoid… governmental oversight.”

“I’m inclined to agree with you,” Scully said.

“We need to leave soon. We can’t wait.”

Apgar jumped on the table then, looking for affection. Scully, who normally wouldn’t tolerate a cat on any eating surface, reached out and pet the cat absently, her eyes far away.

“Where are we even going to go?” she asked.