rfhomebuyers122

[selfconsumerofmywoes]

if people want to visit me i’m going to need at least a week’s warning

[papersandkeyboards]

6/13-19: The Hunt for Quite Everything: Comicbooks, High School Diploma, and The Last Moments in Friendships

38th WEEK, JUNE 13-19, 2016.

If you know me well enough or you don’t but you’ve been reading this very tumblr page, I’m not surprised if you find yourself being bored listening to my likeness towards American comic books.

Wait, I’ll rephrase that, because I don’t think I even deserve that status. I like some American comic books, often Marvel over DC, and often only certain issues of certain characters, i.e. Black Widow, Deadpool, Hawkeye, and Ms. Marvel. These comic books were the second thing that popped into my mind when the plane I was in on September 2015 hit the American sky (the first thing being “oh shit, it’s getting real”).

This is my second-to-last week being in the Emerald City, being in the country where I can access these comic books I love dearly for only $2 a piece (in Indo they were like $10-15 AND they don’t even come in full volumes), and this raised an urgency to do what I had decided to do:

a comic book hunt.

But first, I’ll just write the summary of other parts of the week as the following.

-

Monday, June 13:

The Oceanography class (more specifically, the Salish Sea trip students) went to UW to present the project we’ve been working on since the trip. We finally reunited with the Salish Sea people that we had gotten to know for the 3 days of the trip, and it was nice seeing them again. And who am I kidding, any school trip is always fun, and UW never failed to amuse me with its classy architecture.

-

Tuesday, June 14:

The school held this thing called Senior Breakfast (I know right, they have so many events for the seniors and it had been fun!) and they held it in Rainier Beach Community Center just across the street from school. The event was pretty self-explanatory: you came earlier in the day before school starts, you could invite your family member, you sat on one of the non-assigned round tables, and you could help yourself to the breakfast buffet in the room. There were speeches and such, but mostly it was the fun of getting free food and hanging out, skipping a wee bit of school hours.

The agenda of the school itself was Senior Checkout Day, where you went to your classes just to get the teachers’ signatures on a form that basically stated you’re a senior and you’ve passed your classes and you were very much welcome to get out of the school (in an honorable way—that is graduation). There were also yearbooks given (for those who bought them) and I had those signed around and I signed some yearbooks myself. I made use of this opportunity not only to take pictures with my dear teachers (and other school staff I wanted to take pictures with), but also to give them little Indo trinkets and some little thank-you cards I wrote for them. Same thing I did with my professors back in Seattle Central.

[let’s pretend I put here the pics with DJ, Ms. Shaw, Señor Cadenas, Ms. Harris, Coach Beavers, Ms. Yip, Ms. Wong, Jurdy, and Mr. Henderson because yours truly had lost 90% of her exchange experience pics gone from damaging her hard drive for good]

(…but here’s the thing! I was lucky to be able to have these pics of me and Ms. Street and Pierce and Tomchick preserved)

So the pose with Pierce was because he told us during one of our classes that he had always had the same pose for the yearbooks (and it was true—he showed us the yearbooks from before). And the pic with Tomchick because this guy was the one who inspired me to get those pair of The Scream socks. Tomchick had been the guy who wears wacky socks all the time—he would show us his socks every now and then—and I kid you not, I never again take socks for granted.

(of course, before this day, I made him wear The Scream socks for Senior Checkout Day so he would match mine and we could make this photo happen)

-

Wednesday, June 15:

Another thing that this week being the second-to-last week of my presence in Seattle and its everlasting glory of beautiful things, I, of course, had to take some time to shop (despite running out of luggage space). Among other things, I remember vividly buying two things: two shower curtains with printed illustration of a big world map and periodic tables (a request by my mom) from Bed Bath and Beyond, and a silicon ice cube tray in the shape of the US states (my utter hedonism) from Nordstrom Rack. I also hunted the waterfront and their antique shops for (more) wacky socks or simply looking around. In the evening, I took Karen and Eric watched Now You See Me 2 because I was a total groupie of the first movie. (Karen ended up giving bad reviews for the second one, and I agreed that the second one was a bit too much but I still loved it nonetheless ehehehehe)

-

Thursday, June 16: Comic Book Hunt Day 1 (of 2)

You see, what I had been doing with the way I acquire comic books was that I walked into the store, I looked around, saw anything I like and available, and bought them. Most of times the issues I bought weren’t in order because a) I was too late that they didn’t sell the early issues anymore, or b) the next issues hadn’t come yet. So, by the end of the exchange year, I have found myself with many comic books in the same series but with some issues missing here and there. However, I have found some issues bundled into volumes of 4-6 issues which had better paper quality altogether, though on the other hand it seemed like a bit of a waste because in some cases I already had 2, 3, even 4 issues on the volume. Buying a whole volume of 6 issues would fill me in with the 2 issues I hadn’t gotten, but that would also mean I used my money on 4 issues I’ve already had.

The days before today, in these last weeks of no more waiting, I’ve sorted all the Ms. Marvels that I owned then I listed the issues I haven’t had. Then, I’ve started on calling one comic bookstore I know, listing the issues I was looking for. This comic bookstore I called didn’t have all that I need, which led me to calling for another, and then another, and that was how I basically had several booked issues of Ms. Marvel comic books in different comic book stores all over the city.

Before I embarked on my first store to hunt, I stopped by Elliott Bay Bookstore, hanging out by myself. Elliott Bay Bookstore is the nearest bookstore from home, and it was the second-best bookstore I’ve ever visited (the first being downtown Seattle Barnes & Noble). However, what makes Elliott Bay Bookstore different from B&N was the homy feeling to it. The floors, shelves, and railings were of wood and you can see the vast first floor from the loft-ish second floor balcony. Under the second floor was a little café, and that was where I spent a few hours writing earlier entries of this blog.

(pics from the good and gracious interwebs)

Books and café. Such an ideal place.

After noon I went. My first target would be Phoenix Comics and Games by Seattle Central College, but, if I was not mistaken, they didn’t have any of the issues I was looking for. The next on the list was this store downtown that I’ve forgotten the name of (what I do remember is that it was the store from which Antonio gave me a $10 gift certificate for my birthday). It was pretty easy: I came in, told the shopkeeper I was the one on the phone and asked for a certain issue of Ms. Marvel, they went to the back room and came back with the item of quest, I paid, and I left (well, after some minutes of looking around because why not). Not much time to waste anyway, because I had planned to go to the zoo, now that the day was warm and sunny (compared to my first visit to the zoo when it was winter cold and most of the exhibits were closed anyway).

1 comic bookstore done, 2 more to go!

-

Friday, June 17: Comic Book Hunt Day 2 (of 2) and, well, Graduation

Ah, right.

I got too excited in telling you about my comic book hunt I almost forgot about graduation.

So we had the graduation ceremony this day in Memorial Stadium in Seattle Center Area. It was not until after lunch-ish so I still got time on my hands. I went to comic book store #2 and #3, respectively Golden Age Collectibles by the waterfront (this was the most complete comic book store by far. Complete as in it also had a whole lot of other geek stuff, like action figures—from regular-sized to life-sized—, really old comic books, and trading cards. All in mint condition) and, after looking around the store for a while, wasted no time and caught the bus straight to Wallingford area to Comics Dungeon.

I did my best, but at last I have satisfied my thirst for American comic books!

I didn’t spend a lot in there as I have other travel plans (squeezing as much agenda as I can in this short time I had left), so I caught the bus and went straight back south to the waterfront for the tourist attraction I haven’t had the chance to visit despite people going there all the time:

Yep. The infamous Seattle Gum Wall.

It was so amazing to the point it didn’t even look disgusting to me. The solo traveling situation got me in a bit of a difficulty taking pictures of myself, so I got a stranger to do it (and then the picture was gone anyway so what’s the point).

/looks at watch/ time to go back home, dress pretty, and off we went to Memorial Stadium to graduate!

You see, I would LOVE to brag to everyone how I graduated high school twice (one from RBHS and one from my original high school in Indo), but unfortunately, that was not the case.

Gretar and I weren’t given (rented?) togas. We also didn’t get any diploma. So all we would do in the event was to do what everyone else was doing, except for the toga-wearing and diploma-receiving part. All the seniors gather sporadically around the entrance of the stadium, all of them wearing togas. I did my best to dress nicely since I was not going to be wearing one. We did get some tassels and colorful necklaces, although I didn’t really know what they were for. The tassels were from the school, and I suppose they symbolize something like the class color or honor students or something—everyone had one but some had more than the others.

Oh another cool thing was that, as a celebration, some people got customized long necklaces from friends and/or family. Some were of flowers, but many of them—and I assume it’s the tradition around here—were of candies. I vaguely remember that people can buy them ready-made for this purpose, that’s why so many people had candy necklaces. Honestly, those are cooler than the flower ones since this one I can actually put to use after wearing them.

I didn’t have any graduation attribute aside from the tassels and necklaces, so I borrowed Jake’s grad cap just for a pic (that I lost). I do remember they were all like “you’re so cute!” with a grad cap without the robe, but I’m pretty sure that’s just me looking 5 years younger than all of RB seniors present.

We all filed in this one long single line from the tribunes and walked outside towards the field where all the chairs and the stage are. Later we found out we would be sitting on the stage, behind the podium and along with the faculties, and the other seniors would sit on chairs provided to them facing the stage. Families were seated on the bleachers of the stadium.

It wasn’t like it was a spotlight, because we were in the back of the stage anyway, and everyone was paying attention to whoever was speaking at the podium. Jurdy, teachers, et cetera. Ceremonially, we received the… case (?) for the diplomas, but of course with no diploma inside. Doesn’t matter. Still cool.

After graduation, I tagged along Gretar’s host family to Cheesecake factory for some big fat cake slices.

-

Saturday, June 18:

It was a beautiful chill Saturday. It was supposed to be the day of Summer Solstice Parade—which I had been dying to go to—but I had to give that a pass for a couple agendas: one, a visit to Jenny and Seth’s house, and two, Jake’s graduation party.

(a little spoiler of why I had wanted to go to the Solstice Parade: because people said it was hella fun, and a rare annual sighting of cyclists with 100% body paint and 0% clothing. I reckoned people might be a little bit taken aback had they known I was eager to go to the Solstice Parade for—imagine me saying this in my enthusiastic, 18-year-old self—“naked cyclists!” but at this point of time in the exchange year, who am I to care anymore)

It was basically a day of clashing agendas. Supposedly, after spending the time hanging out and watching Pitch Perfect 2 with Harper at Jenny and Seth’s, I could have gone to either of these three agendas: Jake’s grad party, Gretar’s grad party, or the Solstice Parade. Given that I will see Gretar at my own farewell party in the upcoming weekend, and I valued my formed friendships with people at Rainier Beach High School more than some naked strangers, I decided to go to Jake’s grad party at their house.

The party was a lot of fun. It wasn’t like a party party—we chilled in their backyard, having drinks and snacks, we played bocce, we played Cards Against Humanity (my first time ever playing it and boy I was hooked. Then I came back home to Indo to never play it again because it wasn’t sold here and if it did, it was hella expensive). The Seattle sky was gray and cloudy—what else is new?—but the cold and light drizzle was never in the way to stop us from having fun.

On the way home and afterwards, I look back at the friendships I’ve had at Rainier Beach—truthfully may not be a forever and well-maintained one, what with the distance and everyone’s doing their own thing after high school and me being bad at maintaining relationships in general—and I thought,

I obviously was not as outgoing as everyone else, and my other exchange student friends may have better experience, but hey, this was something worth being grateful for.

(besides, if I was not grateful, I would have nothing to hold on to anymore)

At least they had etched a good memory in my short 9 months, and the brief fun I had during that time will be something I’ll cherish forever. Not only for the exchange year in general, but also for my own character development. I was sure as hell that I would have a hard time finding friends—and I might have, at the start, but in the end I wasn’t that much miserable. In fact, I wasn’t miserable at all.

Anyway.

The last day of the week (June 19), the city of rain decided to be a little bit nicer this time. The sky was bright blue, splotches of white clouds here and there, all in all an exquisite day to take a ferry out to Bainbridge Island with Karen and her friend Jen. Not a lot of touristy places in Bainbridge Island—at one point I remembered us going to a cute little craft shop—and we’re back home by afternoon, in which I continued my way to Kira’s place for her good-bye party. Another fun evening party, hanging out with friends and family, wholesome conversations, photos taken, heartfelt hugs exchanged.

Like what a proper good-bye party would be like.

(also, it’s a little strange solely due to the fact that I will be having my own good-bye party the following week, during which I will see many of the same people in Kira’s, so more heartfelt content on my end can wait until then)

-

So, uh, hooray for the second-to-last week in the US, and therefore, second-to-last entry for this blog (excluding epilogue), I guess?

See you around.

Nabila Safitri

[jasonbehrs]

🎭 wear your heart where i can see 🎭

by airauralintensity (aka me, jasonbehrs!)

a dbsk fanfic about falling in love on a trial run

“But you’re a dude!”

“That will continue to be true for every lesson in the curriculum, so I suggest you get over that quickly.”

ship: yunjae chapter: 6/10 word count: 4.2k+ rating: T+ for cursing

read it on ffnet, aff, ao3, or below!

~~~

Tuesday, 6:04 Good morning!

Wednesday, 7:28 Check out this funny graffiti I saw in the locker room [picture attached]

Wednesday, 13:59 Did you skip lunch today? I was looking for you and didn't find you

Thursday, 15:27 I know you said that I'd be asked out next, but that new animated film is playing at the mall this weekend, and I kinda wanna watch it lol. Let's go together?

Thursday, 15:28 I'm aware movies aren't a good *first* date, but we've been dating for a while now. This seems fine to me?

Friday, 16:43 Or it doesn't have to be a practise date. We could just hang out

Sunday, 20:09 Hey, is everything alright? I haven't heard from you all weekend

Monday, 8:15 Jaejoong?

~~~

Yunho walks into school on Monday morning worried out of his damn mind. Jaejoong hasn't spoken to him since last week, and he has absolutely no clue what could have possibly happened to warrant such treatment. He would have gone to Jaejoong's house to check on the other boy directly if only he weren't acutely aware of how excessive that would have been.

As it stands, stalking up and down the second-year locker bays in search of the other is not any more reasonable.

A few minutes prior to the first warning bell, Jaejoong strolls up to his locker, and Yunho is so relieved to see him he doesn't even think about nagging him for cutting it so close to class.

"Jaejoong!"

"Yunho. Hi."

It's a perfectly normal greeting, so then why does it feel so weird?

"Just 'hi'?"

The corners of Jaejoong's eyes crinkle the way they do before he's about to ruin your whole day, and some of the anxiety finally loosens in Yunho's chest. "There's been a markup on opening salutations, haven't you heard? Frankly, I don't think you could afford a second one."

Yunho laughs, but in his relief it sounds more desperate than amused. "Well, I think you should give me a discount. You really worried me this weekend; it's only fair!"

There's no amount of teasing in the world that could belie the truth in his statement, and he winces as he sees Jaejoong close himself back up in response. It wouldn't have been so obvious if only he hadn't seen a hint of the carefree Jaejoong just a second ago.

"Jaejoong, what happened last week?"

He doesn't say anything at first, just shuffles around books between his backpack and his locker. The longer he remains silent, the tighter the coil in Yunho's chest wounds.

Finally, he turns to face Yunho with such a serious face that fear seizes his chest. Yunho recognises that look. It's how all his girlfriends looked the moment right before they became his ex-girlfriends, resolute and resigned.

This look has never bothered him before now.

"Yunho, I'm sorry. I should have said something sooner, but I didn't know how to break it to you. There will never be the right words or the right timing for what I'm about to say, but there's no choice now but to just say it… Yunho, I was grounded."

Somewhere in the world, there is a vinyl record scratching on a turntable needle. "Come again?"

Jaejoong sighs, heavy and put-upon and fake, as he slumps against his locker. "I know! Parents don't like it when you change the autocorrect settings in their phones so that common phrases are turned into expletives and observations on the other party's hairline. It blew my mind, too. No phone, no Internet for the whole weekend."

Yunho's laugh is hysterical with incredulity and relief. "Are you serious?"

Jaejoong nods. "I read all your texts this morning, though. Movie, right? Let's do tomorrow; neither of us have anything after school. I'll buy the tickets, you buy the snacks?"

The whiplash from thinking he's about to be really broken up with by his practise boyfriend to making real plans for a practise date tomorrow night is vertigo inducing, but Yunho rallies himself. "Yeah, that sounds like a great plan." His cheeks feel like they haven't smiled in forever.

"Cool, see you tomorrow." Jaejoong turns on his heel, and the first warning bell rings.

The smile drops from Yunho's face. That's it?

"Wait!" He rushes forward to stop Jaejoong's stride, but he doesn't even know what it is he was wanting at the end of the exchange, a fact that becomes glaringly apparent to him when Jaejoong looks back at him with a coolly expectant face.

He scrounges for literally anything coherent to say, and luckily something occurs to him just before the silence stretches out too long. "Um, is tomorrow a lesson?"

Jaejoong's lips smirk, but his eyes don't seem to play along. "Every day is a lesson, Jung." With that, he walks away and joins the crowd of students heading to their first class, a crowd among which Yunho would find himself if only he could get his feet to move.

The distinct feeling of wanting something is still haunting Yunho, but he can only purse his lips and wonder what. He tells himself that he won't figure it out by just standing here, but the rest of the day doesn't offer him any answers either.

~~~

They agreed beforehand that they'd go home to change out of their uniforms and just meet at the movies, but Yunho finds himself ready and antsy a full two hours before their meetup time. He knows there is still latent anxiety from this weekend that he wasn't able to completely shake, but he reminds himself that he's being ridiculous. He and Jaejoong are literally going on a date tonight. There is nothing to be nervous about.

He'd feel a lot better once he's with Jaejoong, though, so he texts him to see if they could expedite that part.

Perks of having a motorbike: I got home pretty quickly and finished getting ready way earlier than I thought I would. How's your timing? I could pick you up instead of just meeting at the mall

Yunho stares with laser focus at the chat box, willing the three bouncing dots to appear and let him know Jaejoong is responding. Just when Yunho thinks he should call since he's waited long enough, they pop up for a second, and Jaejoong's message comes through.

thanks, but not necessary

The other boy's impassive face from yesterday flashes through his mind again, and Yunho keens with dread. Why is Jaejoong being like this?

After another moment of sitting in his anxiety, he pulls himself together. He has to tell Jaejoong about this, that Jaejoong is making him feel this way. He probably isn't even doing it on purpose, but he should know how much it's affecting Yunho. If he could just explain himself, maybe Yunho would be better at handling it.

He nods to himself. Yes, good plan.

Okay, looking forward to it. There's something I want to talk to you about too

That looks serious. Sure, it's a serious conversation Yunho wants to have, but it's not a bad serious. He doesn't want Jaejoong to worry.

:)

There, that's better.

Jaejoong doesn't reply, and Yunho resolves not to read into it. He needs a distraction, so he reviews his outfit for the fifth time.

He had dressed a little better than normal, probably a little more formal than a movie date warrants, because he really wants to impress Jaejoong. He feels like he's learned a lot in the past few weeks, and he wants to prove that it hasn't been a waste of Jaejoong's time by fully applying his accumulated knowledge. Appraising himself in the mirror, he's gotta say: he looks good.

He stalls a little bit more by brushing his teeth again and trying to study some flash cards, but he's out of the house in the next fifteen minutes and at the mall by the end of the hour.

Jaejoong is—predictably, understandably, disappointingly—not there yet, so Yunho decides to do the gentlemanly thing and buy both the tickets and the snacks. Besides, standing in queues is a great way to pass the time.

On the snack line, he frets over what to order for Jaejoong. He knows Jaejoong prefers spicy food, but does that also apply to his snacks? Should he get something sweet like candy or something savoury like popcorn? If he buys something of everything, that's probably overkill, right? But Jaejoong likes to eat as much as he does…

When it's his turn at the register, he still hasn't made up his mind, and he panics a little bit before a voice from off to his side tells him, "I like chocolate-covered raisins."

He whirls around and finds Kwon Boa standing there in all her 5'3" unattainable-girl-next-door glory.

~~~

He is so stunned to see her that it takes the annoyed voice of the underpaid teenager at the cash register to finally prompt him into action. He hands over his debit card in a stupor, preoccupied with how Kwon Boa has taken up space at his side.

When the transaction is done and he still doesn't move, she places her hand on his arm and guides him out of the way. All he can do is stumble after her.

She's looking at him expectantly, shifting her attention from his face to his chest, and it makes him kind of uncomfortable until a crinkle of wrapper reminds him he's still holding their snacks.

"Oh!" He scrambles to finagle her raisins free so he could hand them to her, but his arms are carefully balancing popcorn and candy and drinks as well. He turns in frantic circles, searching for a surface that isn't the floor where he can unload his cargo, and the raisins slip out of the nook of his arm.

Rather, they were slid out gracefully by a dainty, manicured hand. "Thanks!" Boa says with a wide, glossy smile. She barely comes up to his shoulder, and she's probably the most adorable thing he's ever set his eyes on.

"I gotta go."

Her beaming visage cracks like porcelain. "What?"

He could kick himself. Nothing is going right tonight, least of all his words. "To the bathroom," he amends quickly. "I gotta go to the bathroom."

"Ah." She chuckles with an insecurity that surprises him, and he almost forgets what he was saying. "I'll hold the food."

"Thank you." For a lack of anything better to do, he bows the most stiff, awkward bow of his life and then beats a tactical retreat. As soon as the bathroom entrance shuts behind him, he phones Jaejoong. The line picks up after too many seconds. "Hello?"

"JAEJOONG, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?"

"I'm at home," is his lackadaisical, utterly nonsensical response.

"What the hell?! Dude, you need to hurry up and get here! Kwon Boa showed up and is inviting herself to crash our date, and none of your lessons covered this circumstance!"

"Yunho, Boa is your date."

Yunho wants to have misheard him. "What?"

"Yep, you're done with the lessons. Congratulations! Consider this your graduation in practise."

"'Graduation in pr—' KIM JAEJOONG! This is not funny!"

"I'm not joking. Dude, you need to get off this phone and get to talking with her or else she'll think you're standing her up."

Yunho has a million questions to ask, starting with why is Boa his date to begin with and ending with why isn't Jaejoong; but before he can raise any of those extremely valid points, Jaejoong speaks up again. "It's not very polite of you to make her wait."

Dammit. Yunho knows Jaejoong is right, and already he can feel the unseen social cues pulling him outside to interact with the person waiting on him, but he can't end the call like this.

"Jaejoong?"

"Yeah?"

"What does this mean for us?" It's not the exact question he wants to ask, but it's close enough.

Jaejoong is silent for too many seconds. "What do you want this to mean for us?"

Yunho thinks he knows, but he also can't think right now. He hasn't been able to think properly since last week. He feels like he is learning hapkido for the first time: up against an experienced opponent who manages to block or parry every move he makes, and he can't even ask for help because the seonsaengnim who's supposed to guide him is the very person he's up against.

"We became friends, didn't we? We're friends now." He never needed affirmation on this fact before, but so many things changed between before and now.

"Yeah, we're friends now."

Jaejoong's reply and what it promises are the only things grounding him in this moment. "So I'll see you at school tomorrow? Actually you and just you?"

Jaejoong chuckles, but the connection on the phone makes it sound weak and tinny. "Yeah, okay. See you, Yunho."

Jaejoong hangs up, leaving Yunho in the bathroom with his phone clutched desperately to his ear. There's a dad and his son washing their hands in the farthest sink from him who were not there when he entered earlier.

His arms fall to his side in something approximating defeat, but he isn't entirely sure what he lost.

With a sigh, he realises there's nothing left to do but to watch this movie. He washes his hands because it's weird to leave a bathroom without washing his hands, regardless of what he did or did not do, then exits the bathroom with intention.

~~~

As they exit the movie hall, Yunho can't help but think that the date went pretty well.

Boa graciously accepted the obvious lie he made up about his mom calling him, and she didn't try anything weird in the darkness of the theatre like some other girls have done on past movie dates. In fact, she was thoroughly engrossed in the film. (At one point he heard her say, "The penguins in this movie are so talented," and he had to stifle his laugh at her genuine amazement.)

Even in the stilted conversation while waiting for the movie to start, she was altogether agreeable, personable, and undeniably beautiful. He tries to call the date enjoyable, but he can't quite make it sound like the truth.

While he's waiting for her to finish up in the bathroom, he's figuring out what happens next. What if she wants to do something afterwards? How does he tell her that it was nice to be around her, and she pleasantly surprised him, but he'd rather take her straight home? He wants to text Jaejoong for help, but he figures that goes against the spirit of graduation and holds himself back. He feels all the worse for it.

"02-312-3456," Boa says from over his shoulder, surprising him with her sudden presence for the second time this evening.

He looks up and over to find her looking down at his phone screen, showing a new text message window with a blinking cursor in the phone number field. He faces her again and meets her warm, happy eyes. "That's my number. You should text it so that I can have yours."

"R-Right. Yes. Can you repeat that?" Yunho clumsily inputs her number as Boa recites it, and he wrestles over what opening message to send before he settles for a simple Hello. He doesn't have to wait at all to receive the cute animated bibimbap sticker whose ingredients spell Hi.

When he looks back up at her, a pretty blush accompanies her grin, and he knows what that means. Somehow, despite all the ways he's messed up their date this evening, he's made her feel happy to be here.

He licks his lips, intending to say something but still unclear on what those words will be, but Boa's regretful voice cuts him off. "I'm so sorry to cut our date short, but I have to go now or else I'll miss my bus. I promise I had a really great time tonight, though," she says with emphatic authenticity. "Thanks for inviting me out."

He's so relieved it almost embarrasses him. "Where do you live? I can drop you off."

On the road, he is grateful he never bought those bluetooth helmets that let him and his passenger communicate while driving. He doesn't know if he could safely bring them to their destination if he also had to worry about making it through a real conversation with Boa without an impending movie to naturally cut them off. As it is, he's rather distracted by the flex of her hands as she holds his sides for balance. Jaejoong had held him by the shoulders every time they rode together.

Boa doesn't let go until he turns onto her street, tapping him and pointing in silent directions to a corner lot. He parks his moped then helps her take the helmet off before he questions dubiously, "This it?" There is an obvious For Sale sign staked on the lawn.

Boa hangs her head down so that some of her hair curtains her face. "Actually, no," she confesses with a shy laugh. "We passed my house a little further back, but… I wanted some privacy. To talk to you."

The one thing he's been dreading this whole night. Yunho is sure his smile comes out more like a grimace.

Boa raises her head, seeking yet guarded. "I enjoyed tonight, I really did, but I was surprised you asked me out."

Now would not be a good time to admit he was just as surprised. "Yeah?" he chuckles awkwardly, scrambling for a response that's polite and true and relevant to the conversation. "You have to know that, like, every guy at school wants the chance to date you."

She shrugs in an embarrassed manner. "Yeah, I guess. I didn't think that list included you, though. You have to know that, like, every girl compares notes on what it's like to date you," she says, reversing his inflection.

He actually did not know that, and it must be clear on his face because she is amused to reveal, "There's this Google Sheets file with your entire dating history summarised in it from your ex-girlfriends' points of view that's meant to grant the next hopeful every advantage she could get. It's like we're all on a group project together, and the goal is finding out what it takes to become Jung Yunho's girlfriend. It's frankly impressive."

He intimately understands Boa's previous embarrassment. "I'm guessing you have a copy of this file."

She nods, then her defensive walls are back up. "No one's ever said you asked them out before."

He thinks for a little, trying to find another generic, relevant truth. He settles on, "This time's different."

It's the right thing to say. The tense line of Boa's shoulders drops, and she sends him another of her radiant smiles, all teeth and dimples and unattainable-girl-next-door appeal. "That's for sure. I've never been asked out like that before."

Yunho, of course, has no idea what she's talking about, but he strives not to let it show. "What about it surprised you?"

"Getting the tickets to Sooyoung, telling her to tell me the time and place? It wasn't even phrased as a question!" she reveals with a laugh.

Sooyoung. He knows that name. She's Jaejoong's best friend in the drama club.

Boa continues, "It was gutsy of you to ask an ex to do something like that, but I could tell Sooyoung was over it and rooting for you. Your method was intriguing, in any case."

Oh, right. He had dated her too, technically. He forgot about that. He inwardly winces, grateful that she herself will never have to bear witness to how little their relationship meant to him.

Thankfully and completely unaware of his thoughts, Boa takes a bold step towards him. Closer than she ever was before, he is once again struck by how much smaller than him she is.

"Just so you know, I would have said yes if you asked me yourself, too." She holds his gaze for a moment, and he can see in her eyes that she's about to do something that he won't expect. His muscles tense in anticipation, though whether he will fight or flee is still to be determined.

She smiles at him again, a small sliver of beauty, and leaves a kiss on his cheek.

Yunho spends a long time standing there. Long enough for Boa to walk back home, probably. Long enough for him to forget he should have walked her to her door. Long enough that the tingle on his skin should have dissipated already if not for the hand he has pressed against the spot she kissed.

He wonders if it was supposed to feel like this.

~~~

Jaejoong is the one to find him at school the next day, and Yunho's lungs expand with all the unvoiced words he wants to say to him.

Jaejoong doesn't let him, of course. "So how was the graduation ceremony?"

Yunho deflates against the lockers. In the space where breath should be, he only feels relief. Jaejoong seems normal today. He can play along with the metaphor for now if it means getting to just be around the Jaejoong he's used to again. "I think yours and my concepts of graduation are completely different," he says. "I'm supposed to know that they're happening, for one."

Jaejoong shrugs. "Guerilla graduation."

"They're supposed to be happy, exciting occasions."

"You mean to tell me you weren't excited to be on a date with your dream girl?"

"She's not my dream gir—I wasn't not excit—movies aren't good first dates!" In his struggle to pick a point of contention, all of his arguments fall flat, and Jaejoong's eyebrow raise proves it.

Yunho gathers his wits again and decides to just ask the question that kept him up last night. "Boa complimented me when I dropped her off at home. She said it was 'intriguing' of me to use my ex-girlfriend to ask her out." He watches Jaejoong's face for any changes and finds the polite openness melt into neutrality, confirming the unspoken accusation. "Why did you do that?"

Jaejoong's jaw noticeably tightens, just for a second, then he adopts a teasing affectation. "It was a little bit of a graduation for me, too. My first official act as your dating mentor as opposed to your tutor."

"I wasn't ready to graduate, though!" It's the truest thing he's been able to say all week.

Jaejoong looks at him with something akin to disbelief, but not quite. It's a little darker than that, and more confusing. Almost like dissatisfaction. "This was your endgame though, wasn't it? Getting to date Boa is the reason you went along with the lessons in the first place. Yesterday should have been the happiest day of your life."

There is a desperate, erratic energy under Yunho's skin that reminds him of times when he was at sparring practise and he grossly miscalculated the opponent's moves. When he feinted instead of standing his ground. When he was left off balance with no course correction without outright forfeiting.

Jaejoong is wrong. He is so, so wrong, but what can Yunho say now to make him understand that?

"I was gonna take my time. This is too sudden. I'm probably gonna mess it up." There are too many facets to his unease, and this one is just the easiest to identify and articulate.

The corners of Jaejoong's eyes crinkle, and that too is a little darker than playful teasing. "You better not! How am I supposed to get any more tutoring clients if you fail right out the gate? No one else will ever trust me with their romantic futures."

He's joking, Yunho knows he's joking, but the idea of Jaejoong teaching anyone else how to date the way he taught him makes Yunho want to practise palm strikes on the nearest available surface.

"You made it past Round 1, and now it's time for the real fun. Don't sweat it so much, Jung." Jaejoong stops; and for a second, he's completely normal again. No darkness, no distance. "A rhyming triplet!" he giddily announces.

It makes Yunho yearn. "I was really looking forward to hanging out with you last night."

"Oh, Jung." A shroud of normalcy seems to fall apart around Jaejoong, leaving him with bags under his eyes that weren't there before and shoulders weighed down with melancholy. Yunho recoils backward, and the vision clears. Jaejoong looks like he always has, lately. "There'll be other movies," he assures with a swift pat on Yunho's shoulder.

It was never about the movie, but Jaejoong can't hear that right now. The impression he witnessed before looked like the other was barely keeping himself together. Even though he doesn't know why, Yunho does know a few quick minutes in the school hallway is not the time nor the place to potentially cause a breakdown. "Yeah, of course, but Jaejoong," he says quickly. "Are you okay? You can talk to me about anything, you know. We're friends."

Jaejoong smiles at him, but it doesn't bring Yunho the bubbly rush of lightness that usually accompanies the sight. "I know. We're friends." The words sound final. "I'll see you later, okay, Yunho?"

Not okay, actually. He feels like Jaejoong is always promising later. One look at Jaejoong's deep, almost begging eyes, though, and he lets it go. "Okay," he says with a smile, and he tries not to feel like he's making a huge mistake.

~~~

A/N (4.19.2023): That Boa tweet is actually my favourite tweet of all time, don’t @ me. 

I won't be able to update until next week. Also, please check out Chapter 4 again! I added an extra scene at the end that I originally had in Chapter 6, but I realised it would make more sense before the events of this chapter. Sorry about all this retconning. I solemnly swear to return to my previous method of uploading fics only after they're entirely written b.c this is a MESS haha.

[ecodweeb]

John’s Bike: 2015 Zero SR

On Monday April 4, Gopher the Smart Car was delivered to me. On Wednesday April 6, I’d drive my husband in our electric car to buy his first electric vehicle: a 2015 Zero SR. I had no idea this bike would put me back in the seat after a crash I’d had 20 years previous.

Service Stats

In Service Date: 4/6/2016 In Service Mileage: 250 Out of Service Date: 9/23/2017 Out of Service Mileage: 5005 Service Life: 17 months,  4,755 miles

The History & Story

I was not always a motorcyclist. In fact when I met my husband I was very much against them, because I’d already flipped one and felt they were too dangerous. I had no idea that cleaning up the garage one day would change my opinion on motorcycles. While cleaning out the garage at his old townhouse, I came across a sealed turn signal lens cover that was too small for a car. I asked what this went to, and my husband stopped and dropped the box he was holding. He stared at the package I was holding between my fingers and took it from me never breaking eye contact with it. He then tells me this was the turn signal lens for Craig’s motorcycle. Ok, so, who is Craig?

Turns out Craig was one of his best friends in college. Craig died in a motorcycle accident. The day before Craig died, he and my husband skipped classes and hung out all day. The next day he was in the hospital after being struck by a vehicle. I’ll be honest I don’t know all the details, I do know that Craig was buried in Austin, TX and that my husband has a story about his funeral and the rental Mazda Miata he got from Enterprise to attend it.

So, great, I unearthed this rather sad memory. After I’m told this story my husband says that Craig had always said he’d teach him how to ride a motorcycle. I told him how I felt about that, but I could tell this wasn’t the last I’d hear about Craig and motorcycles. Not quite a year later, John shows me the website for Zero motorcycles and says he wants one of them to commute with. I was very, very much against it. However, over time, I caved in... happy spouse, happy life or some such saying. But we didn’t go straight for the Zero...

My husband started with a Sachs MadASS - think if Vespa and Ducati had a lovechild. It was a moped, but it looked like a motorcycle. I picked it up in Nashville, TN bringing back my dad’s old F150 and his 1986 VW Golf diesel to sell off for him. I forgot how long he rode that thing, but the next bike was a BMW 650CS, the short-lived City Sport commuter bike. I know he had this bike for a couple of years, and he was annoyed with it because he never took it on the highway (he had no reason to) and it didn’t like being used as a slow speed commuter. Often it would stall out going through intersections unless a friend of ours ran it on the highway once a month for us.

Fast forward to acquiring Gopher and saying goodbye to VW diesels. John had made friends with the sales guy at the local powersports dealer that sells Zeros, and that guy let him know they had a demo unit coming up for sale at a discount. Since I’d gone electric, it was only fitting that he did too. So we sold the BMW to someone from Maine who flew down and rode it back home and we hopped in the electric car to go buy an electric motorcycle.

I wish I could say that this bike was the end all be all, but it was really a headache from the start. We had numerous issues with the on board charger, the DC-DC converter, and I believe the main bike board failed on it at one point in time. There was a solid 4 months where we were riding the demo DSR instead of our SR because it was waiting on Zero to fix it. But more on that later.

During our time with it, both the powersports sales manager and my husband egged me on to ride it. I finally caved in because I felt it was like having a manual: you should be able to at least move it around your property. So I slowly started to learn to ride a two wheel vehicle again.

Fast forward to the EV Challenge the following year (2017). This event happened on the same day as “Tour de Brew,” a bicycle-based brewery tour that my husband was dying to attend. Because we had three vehicles to show (the BMW, the Smart, and the Zero motorcycle), we dropped the BMW off the night before with my husband’s bicycle stored in the back of it. The next morning I drove the Smart and he rode the Zero to the show grounds. In his haste to get to the starting line of the tour, he picked up the wrong Plug-in NC tote bag that had all the car keys in it instead of his bag with his wallet and gloves. I didn’t realize this until the end of the day, when it was time to pack up and leave.

I called him and he says he’s not far from campus -- over at a place off Lake Wheeler Rd, and that he thinks he left the key to the bike in its ignition. Sure enough, it was there. He said to just hop on it and ride over to pick up the car keys. I said no, I’m in toe shoes and shorts and I don’t know that your helmet will fit. He said well you can ride over here or you can wait two more hours for this to be over. I decided to see if his helmet would fit.

I hopped on the bike and said a small prayer, turned the key and twisted the throttle. Away I went -- I only needed to go 2 miles to get the keys. No big deal. I got there, got the keys, and then took a 10-mile detour to get back to the cars. Turns out, I really liked how the Zero rode. 

I loved it so much, I rode it home and promptly laid it down in my driveway, gently. There wasn’t much damage...

After this we started trading off on Tuesdays. I’d take the bike to work, he’d take my car to work and then his run club event afterwards. We did this for a short time before he decided that commuting with a motorcycle was stupid, and he wanted a convertible smart car instead. I started riding the bike on Tuesdays, and Sundays, and before long I was ready to try and do a long ride with it.

In 2017, Lidl opened their first store in Sanford, North Caroilina. I decided that I wanted to ride the Zero there -- it was 40 miles -- then ride it to my friend’s house in Durham. I remember I used my Pebble smart watch to assist with the turn by turn directions, and I was terrified on the few stretches of 55mph roads I had to be on. However I managed to make it to the Lidl, pick up some mixers, and head to my friend’s home in Durham unscathed. 

But sadly, the battery management on these early units was really problematic. A few weeks after this successful long ride, I had attended a meeting in Burlington with the Triad Auto Association on the Zero. On my way back home I was going to again stop at my friend’s home in Durham (this was my weekend thing for many years), and as I was 2 miles from his house the battery went from 7% to 0% and stranded me in Durham.

I managed to push the bike up into someone’s yard as the road I died on had no shoulder or sidewalk. The owner was super nice and he ran an extension cord out for me to let the bike charge -- thankfully it did. I called my husband who had went to get a small trailer so we could tow the bike, but by the time he got the rig there it was charged up enough to make it to our friend’s house. I rode it over there and plugged it in, and we left it overnight and picked it back up on Sunday. It was around this time that we began to really engage Zero with all the problems on the bike, and ultimate they ended up taking this bike back. That’s when I bought my 2017, which thankfully, was a problem-free machine...except for the overheating due to its non-cooled battery design.

[hoonhrt]

EMBRASSE-MOI

: pairing — student! jay x tutor! reader

: genre — fluff, crack 

: song recc. — L’amour by Miel De Montagne 

: a/n — this lowkey sucks but I've been wanting to get work out so I'm sorry if this isn't the best :(( also I'm still learning french so if some of it is wrong pls lmk so i can fix it!! 

Jay was your school’s resident bad boy. blond hair, all-black outfits, cuts class and yells at kids that look his way. you know? the usual. You on the other hand were the complete opposite. straight-A student. A quiet kid who didn’t dare look the ways of Jay Park and his Clique™. So imagine the shock that was felt when the boy you avoided at all costs, walks up to you in the middle of the cafeteria asking for French lessons. 

“You want me to do what?” He rolls his eyes, tired of this conversation already. 

“Can you not hear? I’m failing French and I need to pass or else my parents won’t let me move to France.” He speaks as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“And you’re asking me why?” He rolls his eyes again for what felt like the 100th time. You’re just confused about how he even knows of your existence.

“Listen, all I know that you’re in my French class and that you pay attention, I’ll even pay you I just need to get my mark up.” You perk up to the sound of money. You don’t really need but it’s still nice to have some. Doing this will get you good Karma right? 

“Fine. Meet me at the library every Monday and Wednesday after class, got it?” Jay stares at you with annoyance. He really does not want to be wasting his senior year on stupid lessons but, here we are. He reluctantly agrees and watches you walk away, struggling to hold your books in your arms. He turns around and lets out a deep sigh, wondering if the hot chicks and fancy baguettes in France are really worth this

Minutes turned into hours as you waited for Jay to show up. You waited patiently for hours just for this kid to not show up. Annoyed, you start to pack up your books. You don’t know why you’d think someone like Jay would actually show up to a voluntary tutor session. You were just about to make your way out of the library when you see someone running towards you almost like the flash. As the figure got closer to your still body, you realize it was Jay. Now, bent over in front of you gasping for air with his tongue out like a dog. You stared at his limped-over figure with confusion and slight disgust. 

“s-s-sorry i was… late, i f-forgot about… this.” he manages to speak out with the little air he has in him. He stands up and evens out his breath. 

“what makes you think i’m gonna tutor you now? you wasted my time Park, i have a life too you know.” you snap at him. He stares at you for a brief second before letting out a hearty laugh, throwing his head back and slapping his leg. He sees your serious expression, your eyes glaring at him like an eagle and awkwardly stops laughing. 

“Look, i’m paying you and this is only gonna last for a little while. i just need to pass, that’s it.” His eyes shine with a hopeful gleam, a look that is extremely rare to see from Jay Park. He looked a little cute. You dramatically sigh and start walking into the library, Jay following behind you. 

You settle at the table you sat at prior, re-opening your book bag to pull out your notes. He just watches you do that, not making an effort to even bring out a pencil. 

“Okay, so how much french do you even know?” 

He stares into space, a little hesitant to continue. “Um, i can ask if i can go to the bathroom?” You stare at him with disbelief. You’ve been in this class with him for months and that’s all he knows. 

“THAT’S IT?” 

“Oh and i can say good morning!” you let out a loud groan that catches the attention of others around, causing them to loudly shush at you. Feeling annoyed again, you contemplate if the money was really worth it. You sigh out and start looking for your notes from the beginning of the semester. This was gonna take a LONG time. 

“... and that’s how you conjugate verbs in the past tense, aka passé composé!” You finish off the session with joy. Jay on the other hand has gone completely blank, not remembering a single word you just told him. He stares down at his notes, then at you, then back down at his notes. You can see the struggle on his face and he hasn’t said a word yet. 

“I’m never gonna pass french. This is it. I can kiss France goodbye.” he claims with despair. This already too hard for him and he barely has learned anything. He sets his head on the table and mumbles to himself about how he will never be happy if he doesn’t live his youthful 20’s in France. You sat across from him irritated with his discouraging behaviour and a little sad that you weren’t able to teach him well. Until you come up with a plan that might help him improve much quicker.  

“What if… we hang out this weekend? We can do something and we’ll only speak in French! Of course I’ll help you and all that. But like, maybe? Only if you want to of course you probably don’t wanna spend your weekend with me i dont know you know its just a plan.” you ramble on and on without stopping and Jay simply just watches you. He smirks a little before nodding. 

“How about you put your number in my phone and then I’ll text you when I’m free hm?” he slides his phone across the table towards you and eyes you typing it in. He catches a glimpse of your rose-coloured cheeks and smirks a little more. 

“Okay, uh there’s my number! Just um, text me you know, when you’re free!” you manage to stutter out. Jay just nods at you and again, watches you walk away. This time a slight smile across his face. 

A sudden notification pulls you away from your thoughts. An unknown number that you had a feeling belonged to a particular boy you didn’t think would actually text you. 

042-002-1130: bonjour 

042-002-1130: was that even right

042-002-1130: anyways I’m free on saturday if you wanna hang ig 

042-002-1130: samedi is saturday right 

042-002-1130: it is wow im such a genius 

You let out a snort at his cocky behaviour and reply back, letting him know that you were free yourself and to meet you at the school grounds at 2 pm. 

Saturday shows up as you wait outside the school gates, a picnic basket in hand. An all-black car with dark tinted windows zooms up to you. The window is pulled down and alas, the handsome boy sits in the driver’s seat, ushering you to get into the car with his hand. 

“Woah a picnic basket? Listen y/n you’re cool and all but this isn’t a date,” he speaks and notices you roll your eyes. A smug smile tugging his lips. 

“No you asshole, I have a plan with this.” 

“Tell me,” Jay begins to drive away from the school. The destination is unknown to you but extremely familiar to the boy next to you. 

“In here there is a bunch of food, in order for you to eat, you’re gonna have to say the name of the food in french.” He turns his head to see you looking back at him, a sweet smile places on your face. Jay has always known of you. You sat in the back of the classroom, handed in all your work on time and never skipped a class. You had very few friends and always seemed to be lost in a dream world when you weren’t working. Jay had never been able to speak to you personally as you always avoided him but know he has the chance to actually talk to you, and he doesn’t wanna mess it up. 

The car stopped at the edge of a giant grassy field. The greenery going miles ahead. Trees surrounding the two of you. Jay like a gentleman runs out of the car to open the door for you. You blush at his actions, thanking him silently by smiling at him. 

He directs you to a small spot under a tree. You lay out a blanket for you to sit on while Jay leans up against the tree. You tell him to sit down next to you as you bring out all the little snacks to share with him. He thinks that he could get used to this. 

“D’accord, commençons! Qu'est-ce que ç'est?” (okay, lets start! What is this?) 

You pick up a grape. He thinks for a little bit before answering. “Un raisin.” (a grape) You clap with glee and hand him over the grape. A silence falls between you both, unaware of how to keep going. He picks up a strawberry and brings it to your face. “Tu aime les fraises?” (do you like strawberries?) You eye him for a second, for someone who said he only knows how to ask how to go the bathroom in french, he knows quite a bit. You nod a little, opening your mouth and letting him feed you the sweet fruit. Your face matches the colour of the strawberry and he giggles. You pull out a sandwich and ask him to describe what’s in it. 

“Dans le sandwich, il y a du jambon, du beurre, et de la tomate.” (in the sandwich there is some ham, some butter, and some tomato.) He speaks confidently. 

“Trés bien Jay! Tu es bon en parler francias!” (very good Jay! You are really good at speaking French!) 

“Merci, mon Cheri.” (Thank you, my dear.) you blush even more before and shy away from Jay’s gaze. Jay being the very bold guy that he is, placing his hand underneath your jaw, forcing you to meet his eyes. You both just stare at each other as the sun sets behind you. Was Jay always this beautiful? His eyes scan over your face seeking for any discomfort, none is to be found. So he makes the move and starts to lean in. You already have your eyes closed and lips puckered out, ready to embrace a feeling you’ve never felt before.

His breath fans over your lips and just before he kisses you he asks “je peux t’embrasser? (can I kiss you?) you eagerly nod and whisper out “embrasse-moi.” (kiss me.) Jay finally places his lips on yours and everything feels right. Your hands find their way to the back of his neck to deepen the kiss. You stay in this position with him for a little while before you pull back for air. Both his hands cradle your face, his thumb rubbing across the apples of your cheeks.

“I still have a lot to learn y’know?” Jay breaks the silence. You laugh out loud, falling into his lap. 

“Same time next week then yeah?” He lets out a ‘hmm’ and watches you rest your head against his thigh, playing with the ends of your hair. ‘Maybe France could wait a little’ he thought. 

[just-here-for-the-moment]

For the DIFFERENT POV GAME:

I want Javi’s POV on this whole adorable scene.

Okay, my Queen @quica-quica-quica, I want you to know that I suuuuucked in a huge breath when I saw this Ask, because I was entirely unsure if I could do this. It seemed like a really hard challenge, but FOR YOU I’ll try anything.

I dug in to see what I could do, and of course because I can’t just write succinctly I had to start waaaaaay back in the beginning of the story to get Javier where I needed him for the phone number scene… hope that’s okay!!

Thank you for challenging me this way! This went from scary to amazing in just a few days! I love you so much, my friend!!!

---

Coffee Shop Girl (a companion piece to “For Now” told from Javier’s point of view)

Word count: 3000+

Rating: mature, 18+ only

Outline: Javier Peña x “You” (Austin coffee shop barista; cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: slow-burn; references to previous hiring of sex workers; cigarette smoking; Javier masturbating

Javier Peña felt like he was at loose ends. Not for the first time in his life, but it’s different feeling ‘lost’ as a young man than feeling ‘lost’ when you’re on the wrong side of 40. At least a teenager can still expect their whole life ahead of them. Since leaving the DEA and the fight in Colombia behind, he had been feeling directionless.

Spending some time at his dad’s ranch in Laredo had helped, the way that hard labor and sweat always does. It left him too tired to ruminate, to sink into the blues and feel sorry for himself. He had lined up a teaching job at a university in D.C. but it didn’t start until the fall semester, and Javier wasn’t looking forward to an entire blazing-hot summer on the ranch. So when his friend Bill called from Austin and offered a short contract job doing consulting for one of the state agencies, he jumped at the chance.

Javier landed at Mueller Airport at 2:00 in the afternoon on the second Saturday in June. He made his way out of luggage pickup to the Hertz desk and signed for a rental car. It didn’t take him long to find the apartment complex where Bill had arranged for him to stay. Bill’s coworker’s son had graduated from UT Austin in May, and the lease wasn’t up until August, so everything worked out perfectly. Javi could sublet for the remainder of the summer, and the apartment complex was close enough to the office that he could take the bus, meaning he wouldn’t have to put too many miles on the rental car or pay for parking downtown. A small, blandly furnished one-bedroom apartment near work was perfect. He could make it work for two months, and he had certainly lived in much worse places during his years traveling.

On Monday Javier was introduced around the office and given his portfolio of cases to consult on. He also found out that the coffee in the office was total shit. He had spent too many years drinking government-grade slop at the DEA and other agencies to put up with it now. He wasn’t one to complain, or to order any of the frilly new designer coffee drinks that seemed to be making the rounds among the ladies in the secretarial pool, but he had noticed a coffee shop between here and the bus stop. Some local place, one of those Austin things where they boasted about fair trade and locally roasted beans. If they made a decent cup of black coffee he could splurge, buy a cup on his way into the office each day.

The bus dropped him off at the corner at 7:45, so he could grab a coffee and still be on time to work at 8:00. Punctuality wasn’t always his strong suit, but Javier wanted to at least make a good impression while he was consulting. You never knew who might be a network contact to something good, and he didn’t want to screw Bill over after he had recommended him for the contract.

Tuesday Javier tried the coffee shop and found out that their coffee was not only decent for the price, it was actually good. Wednesday he went back again, this time brushing fingers with the pretty barista by accident. He offered her a “thanks” and then went on his way. Thursday he walked in and stood patiently in line behind two stoner kids trying to make up their minds between breakfast tacos and blueberry muffins. The pretty barista was there again, and she waved him over with a smile, indicating he could skip to the counter and leave the hippie kids in line.

“Black coffee, right?” Her smile actually reached her eyes, and for a moment Javier was very glad for all of the body language and psychology classes he had ever had to sit through. It was nice having a pretty lady smile at you to start your morning, and even better that this one already knew his order. She was quick, he figured, and good at her job if she had his order memorized after only two days as a customer. Not that ‘black coffee, to go’ was a difficult order, but he hadn’t expected to become a regular so quickly.

He smiled and nodded, “That’s right. Thank you.” He looked for a wedding ring and then for a nametag on her black apron, but didn’t see either one. He slid a rumpled $5 bill across the counter, larger than the singles he had paid with the previous two days, but she was nice. “Keep the change.”

He thought he saw her bite her lip as she turned away, and while she was fixing his cup he took a moment to check her out. He wasn’t some kind of pervert who would goose her from over the counter, but from what he could see she was attractive. Hell, most women were attractive to Javier. He suddenly realized it had been a while since he’d gotten laid. His last relationship was years past, and he no longer visited prostitutes regularly. Javier wasn’t a ‘reformed man’ by any means, it was just that that habit had been limited to a specific time and place in his life where he wasn’t stable enough to have a long-term relationship, and it had the added bonus of gathering intelligence.

The barista turned back to him with the cup and when she handed it off their eyes locked and their fingers touched again. He saw her pupils dilate and recognized the little spark that turned over in his own gut. Damn, she really was attractive. But Javier didn’t want to be the kind of lecherous guy who hit on a woman while she was working. Too many men mistook the minimum of customer service friendliness for a sexual invitation. Or worse, like the men who hit on waitresses on purpose since they couldn’t be outright rude to stop them. Javier suppressed a smile and took the cup from her, nodding his thanks.

On Friday when he breezed into the coffee shop he saw the pretty barista smile from behind the counter, and she immediately turned and started pouring his to-go cup. She turned back and gave him the ‘what’s up’ chin nod while holding his cup up. Javier walked up and he slid a few singles across the counter to her.

Javier gave her a warm, “Thanks,” and winked at her. That was at least a harmless bit of flirting, in line with her bright smiles and her friendliness so far. If she liked it, great; and if not, then at least he hadn’t made her uncomfortable by asking for her number or hitting on her directly. When he said, “See you next week,” she smiled that bright smile back. Javier noticed that it again reached her eyes, lighting them up just a bit more than last time. A good sign.

The weekend dragged but Javier filled it up with errands: a run to HEB for groceries and to Highland Mall for a new shirt. If there was the possibility of a date sometime in the next few weeks he at least wanted to wear something other than his work clothes. Saturday night he ordered pizza and watched a movie on TV, some lame action movie with giant muscled guys shooting way too many bullets, and of course all the curse words and a sex scene edited out for network TV. Can’t let the kiddies hear the word ‘shit’ while they’re flipping channels, but watching Stallone blow a guy’s head off is good for their growing brains. He finished his pizza and a cigarette and then felt that tug, the loose ends, a little bored.

Javier took a shower and his mind went to the pretty barista, that smile, the sparkly eyes. He thought about those eyes looking up at him through her lashes, or down at him from on top. He wondered what her skin felt like, imagining the rest of her naked, spread out, touching him all over. He felt a little bit creepy touching himself to the thought of her, hoping it didn’t make him a bad person, hoping he would see her again on Monday. But fuck it, he needed the release. Javier came, spurting hot in the steamy shower as he leaned his head on his forearm and groaned into the cold tile wall. He wished he at least knew her name.

Sunday Javier slept in and then did laundry, tidied up the apartment, and took a jog around the neighborhood. He tried to talk himself out of a repeat of Saturday’s shower. It didn’t work.

On Monday Javier lit up as soon as he stepped off the bus. The first week of the consulting gig had gone well, but today was a big meeting and he knew the agency was not going to like his recommendations. He was constantly trying to quit, but at least he had cut back recently. He was down to a pack a day and only one cup of coffee. That had to count for something, right? Maybe his doctor would finally get off his back about that.

He smoked as rapidly as he could on his way to the coffee shop, and stubbed the cigarette out as soon as he reached the big window that overlooked the street corner. He tucked his sunglasses into the top pocket of his blazer and opened the door to the coffee shop.

The pretty barista was smiling, looking right at him and already holding up his cup of coffee like a game show model holding a prize. Javier felt his heart give a little squeeze, and he smiled and winked at her again as he approached the counter.

“You psychic or something? Or am I just that predictable?”

“Both, maybe.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him and gave him a toothy grin.

Javier opened his wallet and saw that his smallest bill was a $10, but he decided not to ask for change back. She was attentive to her customers, she had surprised him by having coffee ready, and she was cute. “Great service, keep the change.”

Her face lit up and she turned to put the money in the register. Javier turned and exited the front door, and then decided to look back through the big plate glass window. She was looking at him, and Javier realized that meant that she had watched him leave. He hoped he wouldn’t have to tip $10 every time to get that look. He lifted his cup, nodded at her, and then made his way to the office.

Tuesday she had his coffee ready again, so he gave her another wink with his smile, and he thought that she purposely put her fingers in a spot to touch his as she handed the cup over. He paid with a $5 bill again, and then thought about her smile and her touch all the way to the office a few blocks north. He didn’t want her to think that the overtipping was him trying to come on to her; it really was nice to have his order ready to go every day.

On Wednesday she had his coffee ready again as soon as he walked in, but Javier supposed that was a testament to the bus schedule more than his own punctuality. This time he paid with singles. But he didn’t want her to think the smaller tip was because of anything wrong with her customer service, so he smiled a little more warmly, turning the charm up as much as he dared without just outright hitting on her. He noticed she was looking again through the glass as he left. But of course the only reason he knew that was because he had looked, too.

On Thursday Javier decided that it wouldn’t hurt to flirt a little more obviously, but to give her an out in case she wasn’t interested. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable or fuck up his supply of good coffee, so he decided to take it a little slow. When he got to the corner he glanced into the window of the coffee shop and saw the pretty barista looking right at him. He took that as a good sign that she might be receptive to his flirting. He opened the door and let someone exit, then walked up to the counter. She pointed at his cup sitting on the counter in front of her, smiling that bright smile.

He arched an eyebrow up. “You trying to get rid of me? In and out so quickly?”

She grinned at him. “Depends on how long you were planning to stay. We close at 1:00 a.m. after open mic tonight. After that you gotta go somewhere else.” That was the most that she’d spoken to him yet. Javier decided to take his chance.

“And what time do you get off, after the morning shift?”

“Depends on who’s asking.” She winked and then bit the inside of her lips, like she had said something she shouldn’t have.

Javier decided to be direct. At least that would give her the chance to say ‘no’ if she wasn’t interested. He locked eyes with her and said, “I am.”

He was relieved to see her flash that big smile, all pretty soft lips and sparkly eyes. “I finish at 1:00, after the lunch rush.”

“Good to know.” He stuck his hand out to shake. “I’m Javier, by the way.” She continued to smile as she gave him her name. When she took his hand she gave a good firm shake, not like one of those women who went limp as soon as they shook a man’s hand. Javier liked her even more.

He fished a few bills out of his wallet. “Can I maybe stop by after your shift, take you to lunch sometime?”

“You can do me one better than that.” She reached down to grip the lid and spun the cup. He saw her name and seven digits scribbled in Sharpie. “My phone number’s on the cup.”

Javier gave her the eyebrows, very much enjoying how direct she was. It was nice to get a clear signal from a pretty lady, instead of having to play guessing games and worry about overstepping. He pursed his lips and nodded in approval.

“You do that for all your customers?”

“Just the best tippers.” And there was her pretty smile and her wink again, so soon after the first one.

Javier decided to give her both barrels. He put his hand out again, palm up instead of a handshake. When she put her hand in his he lifted her knuckles to his lips and pressed a soft kiss, giving her a look from under his eyelashes before he let go.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Javier picked up the cup and left, and gave her a warm smile through the glass as he walked away. As soon as he got to the office he jotted her name and the number on a scrap of paper and tucked it into his wallet. He felt hopeful in a way that he hadn’t for a long time, and he rolled the cup endlessly between his palms while he considered his options. Options. Something he sometimes had taken for granted in life, until those moments where they suddenly ran out.

Javier drained the last of the coffee and then scribbled over her number with a Sharpie before tossing the cup in the trash. No sense in letting her number out into the world where some creep might find it. He smoked his third cigarette of the day out on the plaza and thought about her smile, the brush of her fingers on his, the way she approached him directly. He could use a friend in town, one who wasn’t a guy at the agency or an old college buddy. One who was soft and sweet and might be open to a date… or more. He checked his watch and calculated the hours until 1:00 p.m.

Normally he wouldn’t go back to the coffee shop until tomorrow morning, but it wouldn’t hurt to pop back over there today at the end of her shift, see if she wanted to grab lunch, right? He hoped it wouldn’t scare her off, going back so quickly. He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray by the lobby door and jogged back up to his office, taking the stairs two at a time. He wanted to finish up, get this meeting over with, see if he could get over to the coffee shop before she left. He sat in the meeting, watching the clock hands spin slowly, listening to someone drone on about a budget issue that didn’t impact his work, and which could have been a memo in the first place. He felt his irritation creep up the longer the meeting went on.

Finally the meeting closed and Javier hopped to his feet. He told Bill he was headed to lunch and then jogged back down the stairwell instead of waiting for the elevator. He walked the few blocks to the coffee shop, keeping an eye on his watch. He hoped he wouldn’t miss her.

When he got to the coffee shop he opened the door and let his eyes adjust to the dim light for a moment. And then he saw her, slinging her bag over one shoulder and coming out from behind the counter. Javier smiled.

She stopped a foot away and smiled softly, “Hey.”

Javier realized he was still wearing his sunglasses, no wonder it was so dark. He took them off and slipped them into his blazer pocket. He really hoped she wouldn’t think it was weird, him coming back so soon.

“Hey, I’m glad I caught you. Are you busy, or can I take you to lunch today?”

Her face lit up. Good sign. “No, I’m not busy. I’d love to go.”

She gestured out the big window, “There’s a sandwich place around the corner, and a park we can go sit in.”

Javier felt his face split into a wide grin. “That’s perfect.”

---

Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

The only tag list I have: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme @eri16 @mandocrasis

[mrsmaybank]

My Little Sun - Spencer Reid x Reader

 It could not be heaven because her actions, her sounds and her intentions were the opposite of sanctity and purity: they were sinful. So bad and so good that you could get the two confused.

CW: MENTIONS OF KIDNAPPING, IMPLIED SMUT, AGE GAP, LANGUAGE, DADDY KINK. (LMK IF I MISSED ANY PLEASE)

PART ONE

PART TWO

A/N: Shiiit!!! Sorry this mediocrity took so long!!! Anyway, let me know if you want me to clear anything up and please let me know if you like it. Kisses <3

I had the right to be upset, but I knew I shouldn’t be. Hotch was right, I could not work the case nor was I in the state to. It was for my own good and maybe the sanity of the rest of the team. I was a mess. He “ordered” me to go get some sleep in the breakroom, knowing I would never agree to go home. But like always, I couldn’t sleep. That wasn’t unusual and my brain began me to torture me with a movie of my most recent memories. 

9 Days Ago 

Friday - 8:49 PM

“I waannt Thaiiii foooood!” Only she could make my heart melt while simultaneously whining and disagreeing with me. She tightened her grip on my hand, “Pretty, pretty please?”

“We had Thai last week.” I looked down at her as we continued walking down the streets. “And plus, you love the Greek place.” She pouted and continued to ramble about why Thai was so much better. Even complaining, her company was so comforting and calming that I was genuinely relaxed, despite the roars of taxi cabs and the indistinct chatter of drunk city goers. 

“Oh my god! Don’t look! Do not look left!” She skipped to my right, “Look-look at me!” I watched her skip around me and cling to my right arm before her little hands grabbed my face and pressed her mouth to mine. 

“Sweetheart,” I tried to get out of her grip but she cut me off by pressing her body to mine and continuing the frenzied kiss. As soon as she needed a breath, I spun in the other direction. “You’re a monster.” I grabbed her hand and we ran to it immediately. A life-size and functioning chess board under an array of colorful lanterns and vines. It was probably a contemporary art piece and I silently thanked whoever created it. I wrapped my arms around her as I excitedly admired it. “Why didn’t you want me to see this?” I whispered into the small of her neck. “Is it because I always beat you at chess?” 

She backed up from me offended, “You don’t always beat me!” 

I grabbed her once more, not liking the space between us. “If you took all of our games, looked at my wins and your losses, I’ve won 98% of the time.” 

“Yeah well…” she tiptoed and grazed her lips against mine, “I win 100% of the time.” I was confused, “At this.” She pressed her entire body to mine and finally kissed me.

“You,”

Kiss.  

“Don’t know,” 

Kiss. 

“What you’re,”

Kiss.

“Starting little,”

Kiss.

“Girl.” 

She grabbed my hand and twirled herself around just to fall back onto me. I caught her, just like she knew I would. I trusted her and she trusted me, and that was the best feeling in the world. “I love you.” I said, still supporting all her weight. 

She stood upright and gave me a light kiss. “I love you so much Spencer.” 

I couldn’t see anything in the world but her. “I would do anything for you.” 

She perked up with a sneaky glint in her eye, “Would you eat Thai two weeks in a row?” She grinned. 

I sighed. She won. “Yeah,” I pushed the hair out of her face, “I would. Let’s go get some.” 

“If..” she rolled her eyes, “We play on the walk back.” I motioned to the board. “I’ll go easy on you.” 

“You’re on Dr. Reid.” she snarked back. 

8 Days Ago

Saturday - 2:31 PM

Saturday was one of those stereotypical rainy days where the world seemed slowed. The pitter patter of the raindrops and the light music of her favorite record created a symphony of other-worldly peace for me. I left our room, and there she was, my perfect girl sitting criss crossed at my desk. I perched over her, laying a sweet kiss on her cheek. 

“So..I was thinking macaroons…” she scrolled through different catering sites, “But cupcakes are a must too.” I watched her plan in adoration. Never in my life had I been so sure of anything. But I wanted to marry this girl and spend every last day of my life like this one and there was no question about it. It was that simple. 

“Spence?” she broke me out of my lovelorn daydreams of growing old together.

“Yeah?” I answered. 

“Chocolate or red velvet? There is one right answer.” her eyes narrowed. 

“Oh,” I knew exactly what she wanted me to say, “Red velvet. All the way.” 

“You really are a genius.” She teased and began to scribble ‘Red Velvet’ on the small notebook next to her. I looked at the list of random little things she’d written down in preparation for the day. It assured me she was just as infatuated with the idea of a future together as I was. I sighed, “Even your handwriting is cute.” 

“Duh..” she retorted and I rolled my eyes, “Can I read you the food list?” I gently lifted her off the desk seat, “You can read it to me on the couch maybe?” 

She nodded and grabbed her notebook. I sat first, and she took the opportunity to crawl in my lap. It’s like our bodies were made for each other because she just fit so perfectly there. 

“For the dessert table, hazelnut, pistachio and vanilla macaroons. From the French bakery in downtown. Obviously.  Red velvet cupcakes from that bakery JJ told me about. Remember the ones she ordered for her baby shower?” I nodded. “Those.”

“White chocolate macadamia nut cookies, and if I get my way..”

“You always do.” I teased. “Yeah, and don’t forget it.” she smiled, “Tiny little cheesecake squares.” 

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.” I said. “Of course! A lot of tiny desserts are waaay better than one big cake.” 

“And more sanitary.” It was her turn to sigh.

“Yes yes, and more sanitary.” She laid her head in my chest and closed her eyes.

 “I told Penelope we’d meet her at the restaurant at 3.” 

“But it’s raining!” I complained. Truthfully, I just didn’t want this moment to end. She gave me a look and I stopped my protests. “Y’know if we order an Uber instead of taking the metro, we might have time to take a nice…” her words purposely trailed, “Long...hot shower.” She didn’t really have to say much else, batting her eyelashes to give this heart wrenching illusion of innocence. I wasn't buying it. Then, being way too coy for her age, she ran her hands up my chest and flashed me a coquettish grin. It was textbook but, goddd. Her smile alone turned me on to an extent it shouldn’t. 

I let her off my lap and stood up instantly, grabbing her hand and leading her to our bathroom. “Now.”

7 Days Ago 

Sunday - 9:22 AM 

The view convinced me I had died and arrived in heaven. I had to be. Where else but heaven does an angel perch themselves on your lap? No, though. It wasn’t heaven. It could not be heaven because her actions, her sounds and her intentions were the opposite of sanctity and purity: they were sinful. So bad and so good that you could get the two confused. 

She kissed down my neck and I swore my heart would burst out of my chest. She paused and sat up to say “When was the last time we got a whole weekend together like this?” 

I rubbed her arms up and down, “I can’t even remember.” 

“Me neither.” She kind of sounded like she wanted to say something else, but I didn’t really care, kissing her open mouth and rocking my hips up to hers. She was panting by the time my hands met her chest. “Please,” she whined, “Daddy, please.” 

She had no idea what she was asking for but I did. So I gave it to her. 

I would give her anything. 

6 Days Ago 

Monday 7:02 AM 

“Bye baby.” I kissed her still bed-headed hair. 

“NOooo!” she tried to pull my satchel back into her mess of sheets. 

“I’m sorry.” I sat down on the edge of the bed next to her. She curled her head into my lap and I caressed her forehead. 

“You have class today.” I felt her twitch, “An important one. You should eat a good breakfast.” 

“I know.” she said sadly. I registered that the sadness was less about class, and more about the fact we both knew this was goodbye for at least a couple days. Time spent together was bliss and days apart were agonizing, regardless of how important both of our responsibilities were. 

“Hey, think about what a good weekend we had.” I gently reminded her. 

“I know but now you’re gonna be gone.” The pain in her voice brought me the kind of sorrow that you didn’t wish upon your worst enemy. 

“Not for too long, little girl.” I kissed her forehead again, “I promise.” 

She got up and sighed, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” 

I wish she wouldn’t do that, but I couldn’t blame her either. 

“I’m sorry.” She just shook her head. 

“Don’t be. Go save some lives Dr. Reid.” there was a gentle smile on her face as she said the words, “I’ll be right here when you get back.” I enveloped her in a hug with nothing but love, and she still couldn't resist teasing me, “Or maybe drunk at a Frat house, I don’t know.” 

My eyes went wide and the thought immediately gave me anxiety, “Please, do not. Do you know-” She shut me up with a kiss and I silently thanked her for it. “I love you Spencer. I’ll see you soon.” “I love you more.” I got up and headed for the door, “Sooner than later, okay?” 

She nodded, “Okay.” 

3 Days Ago 

Wednesday 2:10 AM 

I silently stepped through the apartment, relishing in the stillness that meant just maybe, my begging Y/N not to waste sleep over me had worked, but I still doubted it. Her listening to my instructions was like a solar eclipse: disappointingly rare. 

As soon as I made it to the bedroom though, I was pleasantly surprised. She was asleep, but not yet under the covers. Poor thing had tried to stay up, but couldn’t. As much as I wanted to instantly smother her in affection, I restrained myself only to admire the sight of her in nothing but underwear and a grey cardigan of mine. She’d only done a single button too, obscuring the direct view so her figure was just barely covered. It was incredibly attractive and she knew it.

I began to undress, trying to remain silent as I exchanged my tie and vest for pajama pants and the Caltech sweater on the dresser. I didn’t wear it much before she did. In fact, I’d only started wearing it because despite it being 5 sizes too big for her, she adored it. For the first couple months of knowing her, it was the only thing she slept in. And because of that, it smelled like her perfume. Nestling myself into bed next to her, I wrapped my hands around her waist and pulled her close, while trying to gently pull the sheets out from under her. 

“Get under the covers.” Her eyes fluttered open, “Spence...Spencer?” She smiled, “Spencer!” 

She buried herself impossibly closer to my chest, arms and legs wrapping around me like a…

“You’re like a panda.” I laughed. She giggled, “You’re bamboo.”

“Are you calling me a stick-skinny? That’s hurtful, y/n.” We laughed harder until I couldn’t stop myself from kissing her. The kisses were long and sweet as we both savored the reunion. She tugged on the sweater I wore, “Why are you wearing my sweatshirt?” I brushed some hair out of her face. “It was mine first.” She rolled her eyes, “Pff...did you even go to Caltech?” She was trying so hard to control laughter, “Poser.” 

She laughed as I’m sure despite silence from me she could hear my internal screaming. 

Her laughter finally ceased when my grip on her got looser and my eyes hung a little lower. “Sleepy?” she asked. 

I nodded and so did she, “Me too.” We got under the covers together. 

“Hold me.” she hummed. “Hotch give you guys the day off tomorrow?”

“Yeah, recuperation. The case was...rough.” 

“You guys catch the guy?” she asked. 

I nodded, “Yeah.” “That’s amazing Spence. You’re so amazing.” I held her tighter. 

“I love you.” I said. 

“I love you too. Now go to sleep.” And so I did. 

2 Days Ago 

Thursday 6:30 PM

“It did indeed. You’ve become my solnyshko moyo.”

“Tell me that’s Russian dirty talk.” She said with a grin.

“It’s better. It’s a term of endearment you’ve become the epitome of.”

“And what’s that Dr. Reid?” she giggled.

“My little sun. You’ve become my little sun. Following me around and bringing light and warmth.” She snuggled herself impossibly closer into my chest, wrapping one of her legs over mine.

“Except for your feet!” I shrieked at her freezing toes meeting mine.

“They’re not that cold you big baby!” she shouted.

I laughed and kissed her sweetly, “I am not the baby here.” I said.  

“Please,” she started until I interrupted her with a kiss, “If you’re not the baby,” I kissed her again, “That implies I’M the baby,” Kiss, “And I’m not a” Kiss.

“Shush baby.” I told her, but like always, she didn’t listen, instead sitting up to straddle me. My appreciation for her beauty was like how a prisoner appreciates freedom, and yet it was miniscule into what I found in her character. It blew my mind that a girl so perfect existed.

“Rarely do great virtue and beauty dwell together. Francesco Petrarch.” I started, my hands making their way onto her hips, “That makes you a rarity.”

“You’re spoiling me with nice words today Spencer.” “You’ve spoiled me. My frontal lobe is spoiled milk.” She laughed, wondering how I was going to manage to make this one romantic.

“That’s the part of the brain responsible for sensibility and logical thinking, and you, little girl, have positively ruined it. You make me stupid.”

“I ruined the genius Dr. Reid with the 187 IQ? Makes sense. I’m like, way smarter.”

“You are. So, so much smarter.”

“I want that in writing.” she poked my chest.

I pulled her down and kissed her forehead to whisper in her ear. “Not a chance.”

She pushed herself away and rolled her eyes at me like a bratty child does her nanny, and I continued, “ You’re smarter, but I’m more educated. I have more doctorates than you have years in university.”

“Whatever…”

I brushed the hair away from her perfect face, “You tired baby?”

She sighed and laid down, splaying herself on my chest, laying on me like I was the duvet. “Very.”

I held her impossibly close, breathing in her scent and counting every time her heart thumped, her bpm said she was relaxed. Oh god, I wanted her like this forever. Relaxed in my arms, where nothing could touch us but each other.

Present Day 

Sunday 11:45 PM

How did it all seem so incredibly long ago? The BAU break room couch was definitely not made for sleeping, and yet Hotch had insisted I come try to get some rest. What was the use? How was I supposed to rest knowing that Y/N was out there in so much danger? I couldn’t rest until we found her, everybody knew that. 

Morgan came rushing into the tiny room, “Garcia’s got a hit. Her father left her 3 of his commercial properties, one of which is an abandoned mall.” 

I wasn’t allowed to work on the profile, but this was, for lack of a better word, a clear trap. “Morgan, it can’t be that easy. We both know that.” 

“Kid, she’s having a psychotic break. Everything about this is disorganized. It wasn’t planned at all. It’s not that much of a stretch to say she’d go to a secluded place she figured we’d never find.”

“Was there a second stressor? JJ and I thought it might’ve been the proposal but…” 

“Reid, I’ll brief you in the car. Get your shit together and let’s go get Y/N.” 

----

Taglist: @slaterskaterslaterboi @frickin-bats @bxtchboy69​  @reidsbbg

@sassy-hades @jackiehollanderr @k-k0129 @spenceoffense​

(Comment to be added)

[blindingdutchy]

lamentation | TWO

{peter parker x fem!reader AU}

based on All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven

SERIES MASTERLIST

word count: 3,495

warnings: depression, anxiety, mental illness! angst, fluff if you squint really hard

18+!!! minors stay away

Peter Parker was relentless, insufferable, and extremely annoying. It all started the morning after what you'd decided to call The Encounter, and it had been unending ever since. Nearly a week had passed since that fateful night, and you'd yet to see a day at school where Peter didn't try his hardest to get under your skin.

On Monday he sat next to you in Calculus, and no matter how blatantly you ignored him for the entire class, he continued to whisper facts about himself and stupid little jokes to you. You wished you could say you hadn't listened, but ever since that morning you'd been unable to forget that his favorite color was red, his Aunt packed him a lunch every day that he threw away because she couldn't cook, and his middle name was Benjamin. Why he thought you needed or even wanted to know such things you weren't sure, but even more befuddling was the fact that you couldn't un-learn them.

When Tuesday rolled around he stepped it up a notch, much to your dismay. He sat with you during Calculus and insisted on jogging with you during gym class, feigning that he was out of breath despite your slow pace and the fact that you were certain he could run for miles without getting winded. He told you more jokes then, too. One of which you begrudgingly found yourself exhaling a little harder over whenever it popped into your head; what did one stranger say to the other? Nothing. They didn't know each other.

Wednesday was the worst, because Peter made a scene. You came into calculus late and the teacher scolded you in front of the class, at which point you got flustered and tripped over your untied shoe laces. Your books spilled to the floor and you tumbled to your knees in front of everyone, and the whole class laughed. But Peter? Peter just had to be the hero, and your blood boiled at his actions.

He'd dramatically swept all his books off of his desk, feigning surprise at the loud clatter as if he hadn't done it intentionally. When the teacher scolded him, too, he just apologized and made a show of picking up each of his things one by one. "Why did you do that?" you'd hissed as you sat down, scowling at the brown-eyed boy who just blinked at you innocently.

"Do what?"

He'd ran with you in gym class again, and he'd even followed you to your locker afterwards. In all the years you'd known of Peter, you had never known him to be much of a talker. In fact, he seemed like a rather shy boy who didn't like to branch out much. With you, though, that was far from the case. Silence was a pipe dream with him around.

On Thursday he sat next to you in Calculus, ran with you in gym, walked you to your locker, and went so far as to sit with you at lunch. You'd put your earbuds in and blasted music as loud as you could without hurting yourself too much, but every time you looked up you could see he was still talking. Part of you wondered why he was being so relentless, but you didn't want to ask. If you asked he would think you cared, and you didn't. You didn't care at all, and the sooner he figured that out, the sooner he would leave you alone.

Or, at least you hoped so. As you walked into school on Friday morning, you groaned at the sight of Peter waiting patiently beside your locker. "What do you want, Parker?" you gritted out, glaring at him as you twisted the dial to enter your combination.

He grinned in spite of your glare, "I'm walking you to Calculus today, obviously. How was your night, (Y/N)? Do anything fun?"

"What part of I don't need friends did you not understand?" you demanded, giving him a stale look as you swung the metal door open with a clang. Peter blinked at you, clearly not used to you actually speaking back to him, and further uncomfortable with your hostility. What did he expect? Did he expect for you to suddenly be happy? To not be completely fucked up anymore just because he started talking to you?

He replaced his lazy smile and shrugged, retorting, "You know my secret and I know yours. That makes us friends."

You wanted to scream at him. You wanted to shout, yell, stomp your feet, and throw a tantrum fit for a child. Friends were not something you wanted or needed, and you certainly didn't want to be friends with Peter Parker. You didn't want to be friends with someone just because they were worried you'd spill their dirty little secret, or because they pitied the girl who wanted to die.

The black hole in your chest was worse than ever that day, and it sucked away all the fight you had in you. So, with a roll of your eyes, you stuffed your earbuds in your ears and tuned him out once more. Just like he had at lunch, Peter continued to ramble even though he knew you weren't listening, and you pretended you didn't see his lips moving at the speed of light.

For once, at the very least, he at least shut up in class. You were thankful for the break from his incessant chatter, the endless monologue you couldn't escape from when you were stuck in a desk while Mr. Tinley droned on and on. Calculus was far from interesting, but you found yourself beyond relieved to finally be able to pay any sort of attention to the lesson.

Friday was steadily continuing along the same path every other day had since The Encounter. Peter thankfully parted ways with you after Calculus, but quickly rejoined you two classes later in Gym. From Gym he was glued to your side through lunch until you escaped to your Spanish class, which you thankfully didn't share with him, but the solitude was short lived. Your last class of the day was one you also shared with Peter, and prior to that day he had remained seated with his friends.

That day, though, he plopped down in the seat beside you with a cheerful smile. "Ready for our new project?" he asked, skipping the greeting he knew you wouldn't return.

"Huh?" you asked, blinking at him in bewilderment. New project? Our? What was he talking about?

Peter beamed back at you, clearly pleased that you hadn't snapped at him for once. "Our new project! Didn't you see the list on the door? We're partners." he explained, and you stiffened.

It was too big of a coincidence to truly be happenstance. All week Peter had been pestering you, perpetually following you around and talking your ear off, and now he just happened to be assigned as your partner for the final Speech project? He did something. That was the only logical conclusion.

Your eyes narrowed as you stared at him with as much intensity as you could muster. "Peter, what did you do?" you growled.

Peter's eyes widened at your tone, and he shifted in his seat nervously with a sheepish smile. "What do you mean?" he questioned coyly, and you scowled at him fiercely. "I didn't do anything, (Y/N)."

"Bullshit." you snapped, "I find it hard to believe that we just happened to be assigned partners after how obsessively you've been harassing me all week."

He gaped at you, "Harassed? What?" he stammered, "(Y/N), let's calm down--I haven't... I haven't been harassing you. I just want you to know I really do want to be your friend."

You scoffed at his excuse, "Shut up, Peter. Just leave me alone! I don't want to be your friend, okay? My lips are sealed. I won't tell anyone your secret, just leave me alone!"

With one finally glare, you lurched out of your seat and stomped to one far away from the still aghast boy. As you settled into your new seat, ignoring the strange looks from your classmates who witnessed your outburst, you wrinkled your nose and picked at your nails angrily. As much as you were angry with Peter, you were also angry with yourself.

You were angry that he'd stopped you, and you'd let him. You were angry at the world for letting your sister die. You were angry at your sister for saving you when she should have saved herself. Most of all, though, you were angry with yourself for how you were acting. Even though she wasn't there, you could almost hear your sister scolding you for how you'd treated Peter.

She always was the levelheaded, rational sister. The good sister. The better sister. She would have been ashamed of how you'd been ignoring Peter, ranting to you, "He's just trying to be there for you, idiot. Stop being such a jerk and let him help you. You need to stop being so stubborn..."

You listened eagerly to Ms. Lovell's lesson and instruction for the new project. It wasn't because you were genuinely interested, because you weren't, but it was something to distract you. It was something to drown out the voice of your sister that was echoing through your skull, rattling you to your core as you tried to keep your emotions at bay.

This was the hardest part of losing your sister. She'd been so close to you, so important to you, it was impossible to not think of her in every moment of every day. It was impossible not to think of what she'd have done, instead of what you had done. It was impossible not to think of what she'd have thought of your actions, what she'd have said to you, of what she'd have wanted you to do.

She had been your voice of reason, your confidant, your role model. She'd always been so much better than you, someone you aspired to be like, and now that she was gone the comparisons were so much heavier on your head. Why couldn't it have been you instead of her? She would never have had such a hard time like you were.

For instance, she wouldn't have been so bitter. She wouldn't have been so filled with rage, hatred, or despair. She wouldn't have blamed anyone, not even herself, and she wouldn't have hated the people who had killed you. She always did love a good superhero, and even if you'd have died at the hands of the Avengers like she had, she would have found a reason to still have faith in them. She would have forgiven them.

This project was going to be a tough one, and not just because you were going to have to work with Peter Parker. "This is going to be a persuasive speech, guys, so you're able to pick your stance freely so long as it pertains to the Avengers. For example, you could persuade us that they're bad, if that's how you feel." Ms. Lovell explained, "Just be prepared to face debate from the class. Each group has to face five full minutes of argument from the class and be able to firmly debate their stance."

A project in which you'd have to argue your stance pertaining to the superheroes that had killed your sister, and you were working with Peter-Spiderman-Parker. Great, you thought to yourself, this was going to be a nightmare. There was no way the two of you would agree on what stance to persuade; you hated superheroes, and he was one, for God's sake.

You glanced over at Peter, only to catch him already staring at you. The pair of you quickly looked away from each other, but you noticed the way his cheeks flared red in embarrassment. How long had he been watching you? Was he dreading the project now as much as you were?

He probably didn't know how you felt about the Avengers. Not many people really cared enough to read about what had happened to your sister, and you weren't exactly in the right state of mind to be out protesting the many shortcomings of the superheroes. You wondered, though, how he would react when he found out.

Lying was an option, but there was no way you'd be able to debate in favor of the Avengers without breaking. Could you debate against them without losing it either, though? You weren't entirely sure. It was a sore subject and you were certainly not looking forward to having to dedicate your time to speaking about them.

Peter lingered by his seat after class was dismissed, staring at you awkwardly as he told his friends he would catch up with them later. You could see the strange, weary looks they shot you, but you chose to ignore them. Everyone looked at you a little funny ever since the incident, and you'd long ago grown accustomed to it. This time, though, you couldn't help but think they were looking at you strangely for a reason other than your sister.

You had two options. You could suck it up and talk to Peter right then, or you could continue to ignore him until you were forced to do the project. Catching his warm brown eyes as he timidly watched you, you sighed. It was now or never; maybe if you were nicer he'd back off a little with the obsessive tendencies.

"So," you drawled, approaching him shyly, "how are we gonna do this?"

This was what she would have wanted you to do; that's what you chanted in your head as you forced yourself to at least seem somewhat approachable. "Uh, we could--we could meet up tomorrow? You could come to my apartment." he stuttered, scratching his neck awkwardly and fiddling with his backpack.

He radiated nervous energy, and the black hole inside of you consumed it greedily. You twiddled your thumbs just as nervously as you replied, "Do you, um, do you mind coming to my house instead? My parents are--they're a little weird about me going out because of... yeah."

God, his stutter was rubbing off on you, and you cringed at the way you stumbled over your words like a fool. It had been such a long time since you'd invited anyone to your house, let alone talked to anyone besides your parents and your therapist, and it was stressing you out. The exhaustion of the day was wearing you down rapidly, and having to socialize was making it worse.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, of course!" he spluttered, "Uh, could I get your number? So I can, like, text you when I'm coming?"

You hoped he didn't notice how much your fingers were shaking as you took his phone, struggling to type in your number as you mistyped multiple times. Once you'd saved your contact into his phone, you sent yourself a text so that you'd have his number too. You didn't exactly answer unknown numbers anymore, though if you were honest, you often didn't answer people you knew either. That was what drove your friends away.

Peter shot you a shy smile as you handed his phone back, and he asked, "Do you want to get started tonight, maybe? I could call you."

Biting your cheek, you paled. Tonight? You were exhausted, and the thought of having to talk for any longer made you nauseous. "No offense, Peter, but I... I really just need a break. This week has been a lot." you mumbled, avoiding his eyes as you stared at your feet.

"Oh, yeah, totally." he acquiesced, "I'll, uh, I'll see you tomorrow."

You didn't reply, only giving him a tight lipped smile that probably looked more like a grimace as you quickly walked away. Once you were out of his sight, your entire body drooped and the numbness steadily washed over you. It had been the longest day, and you were once again grateful for the escape from the overwhelming emotions.

Ever since she died, it was as if all your emotions were on overdrive. There were the many constant ones, like the guilt, shame, and anguish over her death. Along with those were more fleeting ones, like anger, disgust, and fear. Peter, though, he brought about a whole slew of new and equally as intense feelings that drained you.

He made you feel things like anxiety, apprehension, and hope. There was anxiety both due to his wild behavior in regards to you, but also because you feared he might tell people what he'd seen. The apprehension was due to your suspicion he was only so interested because you knew his secret, and was just as fearful that you would tell. But the hope, the stupid anticipation, was the worst.

It was the worst because a stupid part of you hoped he was genuine. You wanted him to really want to be your friend with no ulterior motives because, no matter how much you denied it, you really did need a friend. You wanted a friend. You wanted to let someone in.

You weren't buying it, though, because you were certain you couldn't handle the heartbreak of being wrong about his intentions and discovering he really did only care about his secret. You weren't going to let him hurt you, and if you had to shut yourself off from the world and hurt yourself to prevent it, then so be it. It was easier that way.

Peter Parker: hey i know you said you didn't want to start tonight but that doesn't mean we can't get to know each other

Peter Parker: so if you want, lets play 20 questions! i'll start. what's your favorite movie?

The typing cursor blinked at you tauntingly as you laid on your bed, huddled under the blankets with your thumbs hovering over the keys. That stupid part of you that wanted to make your sister proud begged you to go along with it, to let him be a friend, but you were terrified. You were terrified of the way you actually opened the text and went to reply without hesitation, something you hadn't done since before the incident. You were terrified of the way you wanted to reply, but the only thing that gave you pause was the fact that you didn't have an answer.

Movies weren't something you'd given much thought to in awhile. You knew all of your sister's favorite movies by heart, but your favorite movie? It was as if your brain opened an empty drawer. You didn't know what your favorite movie was.

You: i don't know

Peter Parker: what do you mean you don't know

Peter Parker: do you not like movies?!

You: i just don't know okay

You: i can't remember the last time i watched a movie.

That was a lie. You very well could remember the last time you'd watched a movie, and that was because it was with her. The weekend before she'd died, your sister had dragged you to the theater to watch some cheesy romance film she'd been gushing about for weeks. It was awful, but it was so utterly her that you'd weirdly enjoyed it. You enjoyed it because it made her happy.

Peter Parker: that's crazy wow

Peter Parker: no offense sorry

Peter Parker: it's your turn to ask

You: what's your favorite movie

Peter Parker: star wars but you can't ask the same question!! try again

You: fine

You: what's your favorite food?

Was talking to boys always this hard? You couldn't remember the last time you'd had to get to know someone, but you didn't think it had ever been so nerve wracking. Was something wrong with you? Was everything destined to be this hard now that she was gone?

Peter Parker: anything from Delmar's

Peter Parker: best sandwiches in Queens

Peter Parker: since you got a double and you technically didn't answer my first question, i'm asking you the same but also what's your happiest memory

Everything was always going to be hard. Reading his response, your lungs deflated in your chest and the numbness gave way to the all too familiar sensation of despair. She'd always loved Delmar's, insisting on getting the same sandwich from there every single Friday after school, and it had been your thing.

Would there ever be anything that didn't remind you of her? Remind you of the hole punched in your life where she used to be? It was hard enough dealing with the empty space in your room where her bed used to be, the empty chair at the dinner table where she'd used to sit, all the empty spaces she'd used to fill up. But the little things--the little memories of things she'd used to love--those hurt so much more.

You: i have to go

You: i forgot i'm busy tomorrow so we can't start the project

You: i'm sorry

SERIES TAG-LIST {ask to be added}:

@msmimimerton

[janeofcakes]

Soulmate: How John Met Sherlock...Again  Chapter 2

Hello, my friends! I come to you today knowing there is but one burning question in your minds today: What will Gracie and Olive get up to next? Okay, maybe two: When the hell will John and Sherlock meet, Jane? Tell me. Tell me now! Haha. Patience, my lovelies. You know I can't write a story without stringing you along for a while first. I am very firmly on the naughty list and like our dear friend, Martin Freeman I cannot abide being on anyone's nice list. Mwahaha.

I also wanted to say that the next few chapters are not as long as the first. There was so much to get through in that one. I hope you aren't disappointed. The good news is my typing and editing are going well so I should be able to keep my weekend schedule. Hooray!Happy reading. Jane

----

Gracie casts a side look at Olive from where she sits on the jungle gym. It is afternoon break and the two girls just climbed frantically up the poles and bars to sit at the top for a rest after running themselves ragged all over the playground pretending to be Nancy Drew and George Fayne solving a mystery. Every day since Monday has gone more or less the same way. They play together for morning break, talk at lunch and play again in the afternoon. They write notes on one another’s notebooks during lessons, but manage not to disrupt class or miss instruction. It has been a truly amazing first week of school, better than Gracie could have ever imagined.

Gracie looks at Olive again and feels her throat swell. It’s like she has known Olive forever. They seem to always understand each other and be in perfect sync. Gracie has talked about nothing else at home and has even dreamed about playing with Olive each night. Olive has told her all kinds of things about London and its history. Tower Bridge, London Bridge, the National Theatre, but what Gracie is most interested in seeing is the Tower of London. She asked her father just last night if they could go sometime to see the old castle and the crown jewels. She can’t wait to see and do everything, and it would be even better if Olive could come along for some of it. London is much more exciting than Bath ever was, hands down!

“Gracie,” Olive begins in a lazy tone, “how do you feel about bees?”

Turning to face her friend fully, Gracie furrows her brow and frowns. Olive does not react to the movement and continues looking at something in the distance, or perhaps at nothing at all. Gracie says nothing at first, wondering if Olive had been talking before and all Gracie heard was the bee question. The taller girl finally turns her head and fixes the blonde with an inquisitive gaze. Gracie frowns as she considers the question. She is not really partial to any insect, nor is she upset by them. 

“They’re all right, I guess,” Gracie shrugs. “They make honey, so there’s that.”

“Mm…” Olives hums in approval. “True.”

Gracie raises her brows, every inch of her face asking ‘What are you on about?’. Olive blinks and seems to realize she was lost in her own mind, leaving Gracie with absolutely no context for the question.

“That’s what my dad wants to do when he retires,” Olive explains. “Beekeeping. In Sussex, probably.”

Oh no. This can’t be happening. Gracie just met Olive and had the best week of her life and now she’s going to lose her to bees?!

“You’d leave London then?” Gracie chokes on the words, not even trying to hide her distress.

“Yeah,” Olive answers absently, playing with the end of her long braid. “He says they’re fascinating.”

Gracie’s whole body tenses and her stomach roils. She feels sick and a bit dizzy when she glances away from Olive to a girl laughing wildly on the swings. It’s like a bad dream spiraling out of control to the soundtrack of that girl’s mad laughter. Gracie bites her lip hard to ground herself and looks back at Olive.

“Is he close to retiring?” Gracie forces out, beads of sweat beginning to collect at her temples.

“What? No,” Olive huffs a laugh and looks at Gracie again. “He’s definitely old, but not ancient. He has too much fun working anyway. Hey, are you okay?”

“Fun?” Gracie asks incredulously, ignoring her friend’s inquiry. “At a crime scene?”

“Oh, yeah, he loves it,” Olive laughs, seeing Gracie begin to relax. “He loves a good mystery. Locked room murders are his favorite.”

“Wow,” Gracie mutters, only half understanding what that means.

“He used to have a partner, you know,” Olive adds with a grin. “He loved it even more then.”

“So he had his own Clue Crew?” excited energy vibrates through Gracie’s body as she pictures a grown up and male version of Olive with a man and woman posed behind him like on Charlie’s Angels. Gracie’s dad loves old shows and movies, so she has seen her fair share. James Bond is his favorite. She makes a note to ask Olive if she has ever seen any of them.

“Not a crew,” the brunette corrects. “Just the one partner. They solved all kinds of cases together. They were best friends.”

“Like us?”

“Yep, exactly like us,” Olive says with a flash of teeth. Gracie grins too and is about to ask about Bond when something else pops to the forefront of her mind.

“Oh! It’s like my dad’s bedtime stories!” Gracie blurts eagerly. “Sam Williams and Dean Jensen. They’re best friends and solve crimes together. That’s how I got started on Nancy Drew in the first place. Dad’s read some of the old ones to me.”

“Really?” Olive cries. “Oh! Oh! Mystery of the 99 Steps?”

“That’s my favorite!” Gracie shrieks, her hands flying to her cheeks.

“Mine too!” Olive gasps.

“Girls,” the teacher on duty calls up to them from the ground below. They look down at her, all wide eyes and smiles. “Time to go back inside.”

They climb down as the teacher walks away to tell other kids. The two girls bound towards the school, slowing to a walk as they get closer. Gracie feels something brush against her hand and glances at it just in time to see Olive’s longer fingers wrap around it. She shifts her wide eyes to her friend’s, barely able to contain her joy.

“We should get our dads to read us the same old Nancy Drew book, a chapter each night,” Olive tells her conspiratorially. “Then we can compare notes the next day and see if we can solve it before Nancy.”

“That’s the best idea!” Gracie crows. “We can figure out which one during library time.”

“And then you check it out,” Olive says decisively. “Mrs. Hudson has all of them. I can borrow it from her.”

“Ok,” Gracie agrees, already knowing so much about Olive’s godmother that she doesn’t even question the woman would have the whole series. Honestly, Gracie wants to meet her almost as much as she wants to meet Olive’s detective father.

The two girls giggle for a moment at their new plan and then skip into the school building.

***

Saturday afternoon finds Gracie hand in hand with Candace McCleary, a nanny John handpicked while Gracie was still in Bath. They met the day after Gracie arrived last week and she instantly fell in love with Candace, much to John’s relief. Candace would not be a live-in nanny, but is employed like one. John needs her to get Gracie from school and stay with her until he gets home in the evenings. He also needs her to be available at a moment’s notice for when an emergency, like the birth of a baby, arises. John had warned his daughter after Angela Taylor’s check-up on Wednesday that he thought the baby would come early and probably at a most inconvenient time. Sure enough, he received the call just as he started lunch. Gracie was disappointed that her first trip to Hanover Gate Children’s Playground in Regent’s Park would be without her father, but was still over the moon when Candace was happy to take her. She had been looking forward to it almost all week.

“Oh my gosh!” Gracie exclaims as she and Candace approach the playground. There is equipment everywhere to climb and swing on and slide down. Gracie immediately decides the sandpit is first on her list. A tall tree stands in its center with wooden bridges and walkways built all around it. Rope ladders and nets offer admittance and there is even a hammock to sit on. “Candace, this is amazing! This is the best park ever!”

“Why don’t you jump right in?” the woman laughs. “I’ll just be right on this bench if you need me.”

Candace points to an empty green bench as she speaks and starts heading for it before someone else claims it. Gracie calls out her agreement and makes a b-line for the nearest rope ladder. She is up it in seconds and running across a bouncy bridge, laughing all the way. She runs the whole course, turns right back around and does it again. There are quite a few kids in this part of the park, but it’s still easy to work her way around them. After a few more laps on the equipment, a small group of kids asks Gracie to play tag. She recognizes them from school and accepts.

A good hour later, two of the kids have to go home and Gracie is exhausted. She begs off, having had her mind set on playing in the sand since she and Candace got there. Plopping down in a shady spot, she plunges her hands beneath the beige and brown grains. The sand is cool and dry and feels soft in between her fingers, not like the rough sand that is sometimes used in parks. It’s like the white sand from a beach. She has half a mind to pull her shoes off and let her feet sink into its depths. Gracie closes her eyes and wiggles her fingers, feeling the sand move around them like a favorite blanket. She opens her eyes as she curls her fingers around the tiny grains and watches them slip through when she lifts her hands. 

Gracie does this again and again until she grabs a stick and begins to drag it through the sand like a plow. At one point, she makes a short trench and plants sunflower seeds and raisins from the snack baggy in her pocket. She pats the sand with satisfaction after covering them and looks toward the bench where Candace sits. She waves and her nanny waves back. Gracie giggles and gets to her knees, but stops when a figure just sitting down on the hammock suddenly blocks her view of Candace.

“What the…” Gracie mutters, her mouth falling open in disbelief. She gets to her feet and runs straight for the rope hammock and its occupant, who hears her footfalls and looks up with blue-grey eyes.

“Gracie!” Olive cries in surprise as her friend trips in the sand and drops face-first next to the hammock. “Gracie?”

“I’m okay,” the blonde girl declares, pushing herself up and standing quickly. The two girls lock eyes and start laughing. “What are you doing here?”

“We come every weekend,” Olive replies, pulling Gracie onto the woven rope. “Our flat’s just that way.”

“Really?” Gracie gasps with a delighted squeak. She points in the opposite direction. “Mine’s that way.”

“No way!” Olive shouts with glee. “That’s amazing! I had no idea we lived so close.”

“I know right,” Gracie exclaims, beginning to rock the hammock a bit. Olive unfolds her legs to hang them down and help push. “What are the odds?”

“Well,” Olive considers, adopting her contemplative face. Gracie knows instantly that a deduction is coming. She giggles and her smile widens as she watches her best friend. “Since we go to the same school, it seems fairly likely that we would live close together because it’s usually based on geography. However, it’s a bit different with public school. Kids can come from all parts of London as long as they have the money to pay.”

“Oh my god,” Gracie can barely contain her excitement and she stamps a foot on the ground a few times. “We could play here every weekend! I’m sure I could get Dad to bring me.”

“Yes! Let’s set it up now,” Olive sits up straight, ready to jump off the netting. “Is your dad here?”

“No, he had to deliver a baby,” Gracie rolls her eyes. Olive makes a dismissive noise that sounds like she just opened an air-tight container and sinks back into the hammock “Exactly. I mean, babies are important and all, but now he has to wait another week to see all this.”

Gracie swings her arms out wide and tilts her head skyward before flopping unceremoniously onto her back. Olive lets herself tip backwards as well and they soon lie side by side, looking up at the clouds. Gracie points out one that looks like a panda and proceeds to tell her friend all sorts of facts about pandas.

“I even have a panda,” she finishes.

“You do?” Olive asks, her eyes widen with wonder. 

“Since I was three,” Gracie nods. “She’s my favorite stuffie. She’s called Pandy and I sleep with her every night.”

“I have a bee,” Olive says without hesitation. “I call him Wellington, sometimes Wellies for short.”

“Do you like bees as much as your dad does?” Gracie is curious because Wellington might have been a gift like Pandy was, but it certainly sparked her interest in pandas. 

“I don’t think anyone could like them as much as Dad,” Olive huffs a laugh, “but yeah, I definitely like them too. It’s amazing how they make honey and their whole society and all.”

“Wow. Would you tell me?” Gracie fixes her with a serious gaze and licks her lips. “I loooove honey.”

“Sure, and you can tell me more about pandas,” Olive grins and points to a medium-sized cloud. “That one looks like a catapult.”

Gracie cocks a brow and follows her finger to a cloud that, amazingly enough, does resemble a rudimentary catapult.

The afternoon passes as the two girls tell each other stories and make up new games, their favorite being pirates sailing their hammock boat across the sea to a mysterious island. They leave their spot at this point to explore sandy beaches, nearly being vanquished by a giant hippo and almost losing Olive beneath quicksand. Gracie keeps her head about her and is always within Candace’s line of sight, and it’s a good thing too because the two girls are interrupted as tea time nears.

“I knew I’d find you here,” a low rumble of a voice comes from behind Gracie where she sits facing Olive. They have just dug up a treasure of sunflowers and raisins, a very valuable find on the sea. Their eyes grow wide as a menacing laugh fills the air around them. Gracie swallows hard and turns slowly to see the towering silhouette of a man in a billowy black coat. She shields her eyes, but with the sun behind him, she cannot make out his features. He probably has an eye patch and everything.

“What are you doing on my island?” the man demands as he steps closer. Gracie gasps and pushes herself backwards toward Olive to get away from the dark figure only just coming into focus.

“Hi, girls. Is everything okay?” Candace McCleary asks from the right and Gracie glances at her gratefully. Her trusty companion must have bolted from her park bench as soon as the giant appeared. Now she stands alert as though ready to pounce and Gracie breathes a sigh of relief. She hadn’t even seen this man until it was too late. Gracie grits her teeth and silently berates herself as her father’s words about being observant come to mind.

“Uhhh…” Gracie finds her voice, but it comes out as a meek croak. Meanwhile, Olive leaps up next to her and runs for the figure with open arms. Gracie gapes, sure she is about to see her friend eaten before her very eyes.

“Daddy!” Olive cries, launching herself into the man’s arms. Gracie blinks and it is like a cloud has moved from where it had covered the sun. The giant, no longer in the shadows, transforms into a tall man wearing a nice suit with no tie and a long coat. Gracie finds herself marveling at the fact that he doesn’t appear to be hot in the slightest and momentarily wonders if he has ice in his pockets, but stops all speculation when she sees his face. Angles and cheeks like Olive, dark curls and the same grey eyes that seem to change from green to blue and back. The corners of Gracie’s mouth turn up and a sense of ease washes over her.

“Is it time to go already?” Olive is speaking at a mile a minute. “We only just started playing pirates. Can Gracie come home with us? We’re having Thai for dinner. I bet she’ll like it.”

The tall man chuckles at his daughter and the sound is like a really warm blanket, soft and comfy. He glances at Candace and settles his gaze on Gracie. She bristles for a moment at those all-seeing eyes. It’s true they are like Olive’s, but much wiser. Gracie has the feeling he is learning much more from just watching her than anyone else can. She’s not entirely sure how she feels about that, but supposes it’s why Olive is so perceptive and she loves her. Besides, this is her dad. Gracie feels like she knows him already after all the stories she has heard.

“Ah, so this is the infamous Gracie,” Sherlock says surreptitiously with a look in Olive’s direction. The girl smiles broadly and nods while Gracie smiles a little timidly. His chin dips in greeting. “I’ve heard a great deal about you.”

“I know a lot about you too,” Gracie replies as she rises, finding her tenacity again.

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Sherlock answers. He turns his attention to Candace, who still looks a touch uneasy. “And this is your friend?”

“Yeah,” Gracie confirms enthusiastically. “This is Candace.”

She jumps up and grabs Olive’s hand, pulling her toward the young woman.

“And this is Olive,” she exclaims.

“Oh,” the last traces of suspicion vanish from Candace’s eyes and she gestures at the girls. “Of course. You’re Olive. Gracie has been telling me about you all week.” “And this is my dad,” Olive introduces. “Sher…”

“William,” Sherlock interrupts, offering his hand. Candace steps forward and takes it in a firm shake. “Will.”

“Nice to meet you,” Candace replies, not noticing the quizzical look on Olive’s face, but Gracie sees. She also sees Sherlock glance at his daughter and communicate something that clears the confusion from Olive’s mind in an instant. Gracie tilts her head in thought, considering this new information. She and John can do that sometimes too. It makes her that much more certain that Olive is meant to be her best friend.

“It’s quite a coincidence them meeting in the park like this,” Candace is saying when Gracie emerges from her thoughts. “Do you live around here?”

“Yes, just on Baker Street,” Sherlock answers politely, but with a tinge of the tone Olive has when she mutters that something is obvious. Gracie lets out a quick giggle.

“Oh, right,” Candace nods with a friendly smile. “That’s not far at all. Maybe we’ll see you here again.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Sherlock looks down at the two girls, both of which are very excited. Olive is almost dancing in place and Gracie would swear she needed the toilet if she didn’t know better. “We’re here every Saturday just after lunch.”

“Perfect,” Candace says. “That’s about when we arrived. I’ll let her father know too. He’ll usually be the one who brings her.”

“He had a baby to deliver,” Gracie supplies. “He’s a doctor.”

“So Olive tells me,” Sherlock tells her with a certain mirth in his tone. “I would very much like to meet him, especially now that I’ve met you.”

“He’s wanted to all week,” Olive exclaims, giving Gracie’s hand a squeeze. “Ever since the first day.”

“I just can’t believe we ran into each other like this,” Candace declares, still a little dumbfounded.

Gracie doesn’t hear Sherlock’s response because Olive leans in close to whisper in her ear how great it will be when their fathers meet. The blonde nods her head vigorously and they laugh together quietly.

“Oh my, it’s nearly tea time,” Candace says to her watch. “I have to get her home. Are you ready, Gracie?”

“I guess so,” the girl pouts. She throws her arms around Olive in a huge hug. “I can’t wait to see you on Monday.”

Gracie gasps and looks at Olive with wide eyes, her hands still clamped around her arms.

“I’m going to write you a special note tomorrow and make a comic with my favorite markers,” she announces with glee. “They smell like strawberries and grapes and stuff.”

“Oh, wow!” Olive hoots. “I’ll make one of my maps for you.”

“It could be of this park!” Gracie shouts as Candace’s mobile sounds. She pulls it from her pocket and glances at its screen, pressing the surface to turn off the alarm.

“We really have to be going,” Candace says apologetically. “It was so nice to meet you both.”

“And you as well,” Sherlock dips his chin in farewell as Candace takes Gracie’s hand and leads her away.

“Bye, Gracie!” Olive calls, waving madly.

“Bye!” the blonde shouts back.

Olive waves for a good thirty seconds and then turns to face her father with her arms crossed over her chest. She raises a brow expectantly and Sherlock knows precisely why, but says nothing.

“Let’s go, shall we?” he begins walking toward home, knowing she will follow. “I believe Mrs. Hudson is making fresh biscuits.”

“What was that about, Dad?” Olive asks in disbelief, already matching his steps. “Why William?”

“You know I use aliases at times,” Sherlock replies without looking at her.

“Yeah, for cases, but these aren’t criminals,” Olive insists. “These are my friends.”

“I know, love,” he turns his head to see her earnest expression looking up at him. “I just don’t want to prejudice Gracie’s father.”

“What’s prejudice?” Olive furrows her brow as she repeats the word.

“Well, you know my profession can be dangerous,” Sherlock begins.

“Yeah…” Olive says slowly, eyeing him curiously.

“A lot of people know that because they see my name in the media,” he explains. “I don’t want Gracie’s father to hear my name and assume Gracie will be in danger. I’m concerned he will get the wrong impression and feel uncomfortable about you being friends.”

“Oh,” Olive says flatly as if she hadn’t considered that. They walk in silence for a moment until she speaks up again. He knew she would. She is too smart and inquisitive not to have follow-up questions. “So what are you going to do when we’ve been friends for months and it’s time to tell them your real name? Say ‘By the way, my name is really Sherlock Holmes.’?”

Sherlock gives her a withering look and says nothing. Her jaw drops and she shoves him lightly.

“Dad! You can’t NOT tell them,” Olive insists. She bends at the knees slightly to emphasize the word not. “It’s dishonest. Dad, it’s lying.”

“Sometimes we lie for the greater good,” Sherlock tells her curtly.

“Now you sound like Mycroft,” Olive sneers and that stops Sherlock dead in his tracks. He turns to face her, dropping into a squat and meeting her eyes.

“I would do anything for you, Olive,” he says sincerely, resting his hands on her shoulders. She curls the corner of her mouth and cocks a brow.

“Dad,” Olive begins matter-of-factly, “I know that and I would do anything for you too, but you told me I couldn’t lie.”

“Yes. Yes, I did,” Sherlock sighs and then continues resolutely. “You’re right. I’ll introduce myself properly when we meet Gracie’s father. Okay?”

“Okay,” Olive grins and they walk again, hand in hand.

“Olive?” Sherlock says, glancing her way. She looks up at him in answer. “Don’t compare me to Mycroft again.”

Olive lets out a quiet chortle and tightens her grip on his fingers. 

“Desperate measures,” she replies more than a little pleased with herself. Sherlock puffs a quick breath through his nose and smirks as they walk on. Like father, like daughter.

---

What the hell, Jane?? I know what you said at the beginning, but this is unfair. Gracie and Candace get to meet Sherlock, but not John?! I want the boys to meet again! NOW! So sorry, my friends, but you'll have to wait a bit longer. Worry not, it will happen. Eventually. (insert evil smile, cruel chuckle and holding of fingertips together like Mr. Burns) Love, Jane

@johnlock-rocks

[iamtheblondestblonde]

Last Christmas

AN: Listening to Christmas songs in September is totally normal, right? I was inspired by a couple of songs and I’m procrastinating even though I should really study for some upcoming exams but I had to finish this first. Please enjoy this angsty fluff (is that even a thing?) with one of our favorite Hockey Hunks™.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: There might be a swear word or two and one mention of sex but that’s it

My other writing can be found here

For the first time since the move you finally felt at home and not out of place. To anyone it might only be a regular Wednesday but to you it was more than that. Today marked the day you’d finally managed to clear out the last few boxes, ridding yourself of the only remaining evidence that proved you were alone in a new city, a new country.

You wouldn’t stay alone for long though, your new job was set to start on Monday and you’d always made friends fairly fast so you weren’t worried in the slightest, instead enjoying the quiet that was your apartment for now.

With Christmas less than a month away you’d finally managed to decorate the apartment accordingly and to say you were proud would be an understatement. Picking out a Christmas tree by yourself had been an adult awakening, something you’d always dreamt about. 

When you were younger you had imagined a certain someone with you so you could decorate side by side but that hadn’t been an option in years. Although with the move it could be, but you quickly pushed that thought out of your head.

Locating the box with the decorations - some you’d stolen from home - had taken quite a while but as you held the hand-painted angel that had once belonged to your great-grandmother in your hands all trouble was forgotten. You’d have to climb on a stool or something to get it on top of the tree but for now you carefully set it aside, taking a look at your surroundings instead. 

The string lights made your apartment glow in warm light that only added to the appeal of the city lights shining in through the big windows. The new job had come with a very attractive signing bonus and while the place wasn’t huge, the modern finishes had made you fall in love instantly.

You hadn’t even realized how much time had passed because you’d been so immersed in decorating and cleaning but the sun had long set and your supper had been quite a while ago. The TV was still on from when you’d turned it on for some background noise, not really paying attention but instead focusing on humming along to your Christmas playlist.

You put on some water and quickly changed into a pair of comfortable leggings and your favorite sweatshirt from your time at Dalhousie University so you could spend the rest of your evening cuddled up on the couch with a mug of tea and continue the series you’d started to binge watch a couple of weeks ago. You’d only just pulled the hem of the sweatshirt down your body when you heard your doorbell ring.

Who would show up at your apartment unannounced at this time?

You quickly made your way back into the living space and over to the door so you could check the peep-hole, your heart skipping a beat once you realized who was on the other side of the door. For a second you contemplated simply not opening, but while you were many things in your life, a coward wasn’t one of them. 

You knew he could tell that you were home from the music still playing over the speakers and the lights probably escaping your apartment through the slit below the door so you didn’t hesitate long before unlocking the door with shaky hands and swinging it open.

Seeing him again, leaning against the wall opposite your apartment door, was like someone had thrown a bucket of ice cold water at your face. As soon as he realized that you’d actually opened the door he practically jumped from his spot and took two big steps until he was standing a lot closer to you. 

You looked up at him, really looked up at him and with him standing there, looking so much like the Pierre you knew but so differently at the same time you felt yourself being catapulted to the day that changed your life all these years ago.

NHL Entry Draft Day back in 2016.

You weren’t religious by any means and you only ever went to church on Christmas out of a feeling of obligation towards your parents but God had you prayed for Pierre to stay close to you. It hadn’t been fair to him, you were well aware of that but for one day you allowed yourself to be selfish. You knew that he was living his dream, finally getting to play in the NHL like he’d always said he would but you were also thinking about your dreams. Dreams that involved him by your side.

Perhaps you were to blame for this mess. It was you who had fallen for the funny hockey player almost two years ago after all, knowing full well that he had big dreams that didn’t really mesh well with yours to go to university in Halifax, a place your family had gone to for ages.

You’d secretly hoped that perhaps Ottawa or Montreal would select him, even if he deserved to be picked long before it was their turn. But at least he’d be at least somewhat close to you then. When he’d been picked third by Columbus you’d been so shocked that you barely remembered kissing him on live television. You’d watched him get on that stage and put on the jersey but instead of crying happy tears at the sight of his dream coming true, you were crying because you knew that this was most likely the beginning of the end of your relationship. 

There’d be well over 2.000 kilometers between the two of you sometime soon and although you’d prepared yourself for this for weeks it still hurt more than you could ever imagine. But you still smiled at him all these hours later when you finally got to see him again, telling him how incredibly proud you were.

You tried your best to enjoy that summer, knowing full well that it might be your last one with him. With fall approaching he helped you move your stuff to Halifax while preparing for his own departure to Columbus. 

A departure that didn’t come though, because he hadn’t made the roster for the 2016-2017 season and had instead been sent back to play in Sydney, something that had devastated him.

To say that it was hard would put it mildly. You were over four hours away from him and your home and with your new life picking up keeping in touch kept getting more and more difficult. With his travels for the team and your classes you barely saw each other, a series of missed calls and late responses really the only thing that connected you to him. Christmas was the first time you’d seen him in three weeks but you still made the best of it, spending time with him every day and for a little while things were like they used to be.

When he told you that he’d been traded to Boisbriand afterwards you knew that this was it. Pierre had known as well, the defeated look in his eyes mirroring your own and giving him away. 

So you’d said your goodbyes, wanting to end things on a good note instead of going through another string of ‘Sorry I couldn’t pick up the phone earlier but call me back when you get this’ and constantly feeling left out. You’d cried, as did Pierre when you hugged him one last time, him desperately wiping your tears away and pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before leaving.

He’d ruined hockey for you then, the sport you once loved and spent so much time watching. No more time spent at the rink cuddled under your blanket and gossiping with the other girlfriends but you didn’t miss it as much as you missed him. 

You couldn’t even bear to watch him on TV so you’d missed when he scored his first NHL goal during his very first game in the league and all the other ones that followed. It was only when the Blue Jackets had their playoff run earlier this year that you’d finally managed to look at his face on your screen, over two years after you’d last seen him in person.

But now he was here, standing in front of you again.

“I-“, he began before stopping himself, rubbing his hand over his face before dropping it back down to his side and continuing, “I’m sorry for just barging in like this but my mom told me you moved here and I didn’t see it until after the game but I just had to come see for myself. Apparently our families still talk..”

You finally allowed yourself to properly looking at him, trailing your eyes over the features that were once so familiar. He’d grown a bit since you’d last seen him, not just in height but he was also a lot bulkier and more muscular than he used to be, filling out the suit jacket that sat snugly around his shoulders. He must have come straight from the game, hair still a bit wet and curlier than ever, a black pea coat folded over his arm and a duffel bag slung around his torso. You felt a bit out of place in your comfortable clothes compared to his suit that was probably designer but then you scolded yourself because this was Pierre and he’d seen you a lot worse.

“Yeah I know. I ran into your mom this summer when she was in our kitchen for a wine night they apparently have regularly.” You didn’t tell him how hard it had been to not ask about how he was doing and instead make bland small talk before you could finally disappear to your old room.

How could your parents not be friends anymore after your mothers had once joked about wanting a wine bar exclusively for them at your wedding? You didn’t blame your mom for telling his mother either, you knew that she only had good intentions and she’d always wanted the two of you to get back together.

In fact you weren’t completely innocent in the situation either. It was you who had applied for a position in Columbus after graduating this year after all, thoughts of what could be in the back of your mind even if you were adamant about denying it.

“You look good Y/N. I didn’t think it was possible but you’re somehow even more beautiful than you were the last time I saw you.”

You were about to remind him that the last time he’d seen you your eyes had been all red and puffy from crying – which was anything but beautiful – but before you could even get one word out the vintage kettle you had put on the stove to make tea let out its loud screeching noise, indicating that the water was done. You weren’t about to be rude and just Leave Pierre in the hallway just like that so without a second thought you invited him inside before turning around to take the kettle off the stove.

“Do you want some tea as well?”, you asked on a whim, not really knowing what else to do with the stranger that wasn’t really a stranger standing in the middle of your living room. He’d taken his shoes off by the door, apparently still remembering how you much you hated it when people wore shoes indoors and you watched him carefully drape his coat over the back of a chair.

“Sure, thanks.”

You took out a second mug and carefully poured the tea over the tea bags, the scent soon filling the apartment. It was the same tea you always drank during the winter months, ever since you were a little kid. Pierre grabbed the second mug off the counter from next to you and quickly took a peak at the label before giving you a knowing smile. You’d made that tea for the both of you so many times that this felt almost normal, even if your current situation was anything but.

“I’m sorry that you guys lost tonight”, you said to fill the silence that was now falling over the apartment. He looked over with a surprised look, raising his eyebrows.

“You watched the game?”

“Not all of it. I was busy decorating and doing other stuff around the apartment but I turned it on and checked the score from time to time”, you admitted sheepishly, raising the mug to your face in pretense of blowing to battle the boiling hot water but actually hiding away from his attentive stare. He’d looked at you all kinds of ways over your years with him but you had never been nervous because of it, except for that one night with him where he’d seen you naked for the first time and you’d lost your virginities to each other.

Thinking about sex with him wasn’t helping your cause either though because while the first few times had been a little awkward but still fun, the two of you quickly improved and the images of him above you or his head between your legs were only turning your cheeks even more red.

He seemed to drop the subject, thankfully, and instead moved over towards the Christmas tree, admiring your work. You slowly followed him, mug closely clutched to your chest and sat down on the sofa, admiring the way he looked in your apartment instead. The time apart had treated him well and while it was a bit weird to see him with a beard outside of playoffs there was no denying that he looked better than ever.

“I see you still like to live in an environment that resembles hell temperature wise”, he chuckled before he put down his own mug on the couch table and shrugged off his suit jacket. You tried your best not to stare as he popped open the first two bottoms of his shirt before moving on to roll up his sleeves while sitting down a respectable distance away but you were unsuccessful. For the first time you saw his tattoos, as his skin had been innocent and bare up until your breakup but you couldn’t ignore how good he looked with them. Your hands were itching to trace the patterns and because you didn’t entirely trust yourself to be able to control yourself you sat on them to avoid any embarrassment.

You hadn’t even realized that your Christmas playlist had continued playing over the speakers until the familiar opening tunes of “Last Christmas” filled the apartment. You quickly jumped up, reaching for your phone so you could stop the music from playing. It reminded you too much of the last Christmas you’d had with Pierre, now almost three years ago. You’d given him your heart and while he hadn’t exactly given it away he’d still broken it when he’d left.

When you turned back around you noticed the slight blush that painted his cheeks, he’d apparently come to the same realization as you. For a moment the silence was uncomfortable and you were reminded of the time right before the breakup when you didn’t know what to say or do around him, always walking on eggshells for fear of losing him. You’d lost him either way but that was beside the point.

Pierre cleared his throat before speaking up, ripping you out of your spiraling thoughts.

“Y/N I- I have to ask. Why are you here?”

You knew that you should just be honest and tell him that you were in a way here because of him but you weren’t ready to take that kind of leap just yet. You hadn’t kept up with his personal life for fear of finding something you couldn’t bear and for all you knew he could have a girlfriend right now.

“Well why are you?”, you simply responded instead, leaning back on the couch so you could properly gauge his reaction. You weren’t the one who had knocked on his door late at night.

“Fair enough, I guess”, he huffed before running his hand over his face in the way that had once been so familiar to you.

“When I read that text from my mom, telling me that you lived in Columbus now – that you weren’t thousands of kilometers away anymore I just had to see you. I called my mom to ask if she had your address and you have no idea how smug she sounded when she said she’d text it to me.”

You chuckled at his exasperated expression, knowing full well how his mother could be but stayed quiet to let him continue.

“The team knows about you as well and if I even told you half the shit I had to listen to when I practically sprinted out of the locker room you wouldn’t believe me.”

This made you laugh out loud and when you saw him smile at you fondly your heart skipped a beat for the second time that night.

“What I’m actually trying to say – but failing miserably at – is that I never really got over you and seeing you know only confirmed that. I can’t believe I let you go all these years ago, I was an idiot for thinking I could do it without you because I was absolutely miserable after leaving you”, he finished and you hadn’t even realized that you’d started crying until he reached up to gently wipe your tears away.

“Look I know that we can’t just continue like nothing happened but please bébé, please give me a second chance. I won’t leave you again, I promise.” The fact that he’d used the pet name he’d given you when you first started dating was all it took for you to leap towards him. He wrapped his arms around you as well, creating that perfect cocoon of Pierre that you’d missed so much. When he kissed your forehead this time you couldn’t feel your heart breaking, instead the warmth that flooded your body only glued all those pieces back together.

You knew that there was still a chance that he’d get traded again and that because of his job he’d have to spend quite some time on the road but you’d been miserable after he’d left as well. At least this time you’d know that he’d always come back for you.

“I’m so glad that our mothers love their wine nights and gossip, otherwise you never would’ve knocked at my door and I never would’ve gotten you back.”

“So we’re really doing this? We’re trying again?”, he asked, pulling you back at arm’s length so he could properly take a look at you. You nodded, not being able to stop the big smile spreading on your face.

“Would it be completely out of place if I kissed you right now?”

“Not at all”, you responded before crawling closer towards him until you straddled his lap. His hands reached up to cup your face, thumbs wiping the last of your tears away – happy tears this time – and then he finally pulled you in for a kiss.

Nothing felt more like coming home than kissing Pierre.

The way his lips moved against yours was so familiar that you couldn’t help but sigh into the kiss, reaching up for his shoulders so you could ground yourself in him while simultaneously getting lost in the way his body felt against yours. He buried his hands in your hair and his beard was scratching your skin but you didn’t care, instead letting him pull you closer and deepening the kiss until the only thought you could form was IloveyouIloveyouIloveyoustill.

Eventually you had to pull away though, both of you panting at the lack of air and the closeness of your bodies. It had been so long since you’d last felt his breath fan across your face like this, seen the look in his eyes as he looked at you with absolute wonder but it was as if nothing had changed, the two of you easily picking up where you left off.

“You know that our moms are gonna take credit for that, right? We’re never gonna hear the end of it”, he suddenly groaned and you giggled at his exasperated tone.

“I can live with that as long as it means that I get to have you with me again.”

He pulled you in for another sweet kiss before letting you go again, smiling up at you. You watched his gaze shift to something behind you, twisting your body in his lap so you could see what had caught his attention.

“Is that the Y/L/N Christmas angel? Did you steal it?” He stood up with you still in his lap, slowly putting you down before walking over to where you’d set the decoration earlier.

“It is but I didn’t steal it. Mom gave it to me so I’d have a piece of home with me. I’m not tall enough to put it on the top though and I haven’t gotten around to finding something to climb yet.”

“Need some help with putting it up? Here’s another piece of home ready to be climbed”, Pierre said, extending his arms to the sides and taking a step backwards so he was standing by the tree, angel still in one hand. You shook your head at him while laughing but you still moved closer, ready to climb him like a tree like you’d done hundreds of times before.

Still laughing you jumped on his back and he handed you the angel before wrapping his arms around your legs to support you. With combined forces you were able to complete the tree and Pierre let you down so you could both properly admire your work. 

Your dream had come true after all. 

You felt him move away from you before he was standing right behind you again, the famous tune of Wham! playing again over the speakers. He wrapped his arms around you from behind and you placed your hands on his forearms, slowly tracing your fingers over the black ink under his skin.

“You’re mon ange Y/N, you know that right? My angel. My someone special.”

Standing on your tippy toes you placed a soft kiss on his jaw before leaning your head back against him, not really knowing how to put your feelings in words right now but you knew he understood by the way he squeezed you tightly, resting his head on top of yours.

This year you’d given your heart to someone truly special.. again.

Feedback is always appreciated 🥰🥰

[xerxia31]

The First Christmas

Author/creator: xerxia31 Square filled and prompt: I3, evergreen (I mean, tangentially anyway) Title: The First Christmas Rating: K Summary: The Everdeens have never celebrated Christmas before... Author’s/Creator’s notes: Yeah, I went a little over the word count, because I’m a shameless rule breaker. This is canon-divergent in-Panem fluff.

“I’m worried about Peeta,” Prim says out of the blue. She and Katniss are perhaps ten paces behind Peeta on their early morning trudge to school, watching as Peeta sneaks what he probably thinks are furtive glances towards the square.

It’s been four months since the night Peeta’s mother threw him out of the apartment above the bakery, and he’s adapted to living with the Everdeen women better than any of them imagined. Life in the Seam is far different from a merchant life in town, but Peeta never complains, never seems to miss his previous life at all.

But over the past few days, Katniss too has noticed that on the long walks to school, and back to the Seam, he keeps glancing towards town, where he never used to do so before. 

“Maybe he misses his family,” Katniss muses in a hushed tone. His two brothers come by the small shack in the Seam from time to time to see Peeta, but there hasn’t been a single word from his parents. None of them ever thought Peeta’s presence in their home would be a permanent thing; when they offered him a safe haven from his abusive mother they expected his father would smooth things over in a few days. But it hasn’t happened.

“Hmmm,” Prim hums, matching her quiet tone. “I mean, I’m sure he does. But I don’t think that’s it.” 

“What then?” The snow and cold are making everyone a little grumpier lately, at school and in the Hob there are a lot of frowns, a lot of complaints. The ever-present coal dust stains the snow a sludgy grey, and it’s hard to be happy surrounded by the mess, especially someone like Peeta who has the soul of an artist. But she and Peeta sneak under the fence together on Saturdays when the weather cooperates and the fence is off, and in her woods, winter is actually quite pretty, even if the hunting is terrible. 

Ahead of them, Peeta’s shoulders slump as he reaches the fork where the path turns towards the school. Where his short view of town will disappear again.

“I think,” Prim says carefully, “that maybe he’s sad about Christmas.”

Christmas. Katniss has heard the word before. It was an ancient celebration, held near the solstice. Illegal in Panem now, as all of the old celebrations are, but there are some merchants who talk about it in hushed tones. 

“Why do you think that?” Katniss isn’t even sure when Christmas is, and she’s certain she’s never heard Peeta say the word before. Though they’ve only been dating since the spring, she’s known him forever, they’ve been schoolmates since they were five.

“I think it’s soon. I heard the miller’s son talking about it yesterday during history class.”

“Maybe,” Katniss hedges. “But what can we do about it anyway?”

“We could bring a little bit of Christmas to him,” Prim says, excitement lighting her bright blue eyes. 

“How?” Katniss grumbles. “We know nothing about Christmas.” 

“We’ll find out.” Prim quiets as Peeta realizes how far behind him they are and stops. “Christmas,” Prim murmurs again, then skips ahead, looping her arm through Peeta’s.

Both blondes hold out their free hands towards Katniss, and it makes her laugh, knocking the idea out of her head. She picks up her pace to join them. Peeta wraps an arm around her shoulder, pressing a warm kiss to her cold temple, just below the fuzzy edge of her frayed grey  hat, and the three finish their walk to school linked together.

But she’s thinking about it again later that evening. Peeta is quiet over dinner, not brooding but not his usual cheerful self. Prim enlists his help to accompany her on a delivery of salve to an injured miner on the far side of the Seam, and Katniss washes up the supper dishes with her mother.

“What do you know about Christmas?” Katniss asks, and though she’s not looking at her mother directly, she can see Mrs. Everdeen tense, the way she always does when Katniss mentions things that are forbidden in the district.

“Not a lot,” she says softly. “My mother’s parents celebrated it, but my father disapproved, so we never did.” Katniss is surprised by the hint of melancholy in her mother’s voice. She doesn’t understand how that sadness can be about her grandparents, the people who disowned their only child, who never even met their granddaughters.

“Prim thinks maybe it’s why Peeta is so sad.” There’s no point beating around the bush, Katniss isn’t interested in discussing her mother’s long lost Merchant life.

Mrs Everdeen nods. “I know Graham celebrated Christmas when we were young. I don’t know about Marissa though,” she says referencing Peeta’s parents. “But I’ve seen Christmas cookies fairly recently that must have come from their bakery.” She pulls her hands from the dishwater that’s gone cold. “Has he mentioned something?”

“No,” Katniss admits. “But you know Peeta. He would never complain.”

“That’s true,” she replies with a gentle smile. Mrs. Everdeen is very fond of Peeta, that much has been clear ever since he started coming to call on Katniss. “You and Prim are thinking about celebrating Christmas, to cheer him up?”

Katniss shrugs, putting the last dry dish away. “Not exactly,” she hedges. “We don’t know anything about it, I think that would be strange. But maybe we could do something small that would remind him of Christmas?”

“Well,” her mother starts, guiding her over to the small, threadbare couch by the potbellied stove. “Christmas was celebrated just after the solstice, on December 25.” Katniss nods, that gives her a little over a week to figure something out. “I don’t know the origins, exactly. But before the dark days, children would hang their stockings by the stove and wait for Father Christmas to fill them.”

“Fill them with what?” Katniss interjects.

“Little presents, if they were good. Coal, if they were bad.”

“The bad kids got coal in their stockings? I think I’d want to be bad.” Coal isn’t cheap, after all, and it’s useful.

Mrs. Everdeen laughs. “The good kids got treats from the sweet shop, or maybe new crayons or a little doll. A lot more exciting for a child than a bag of coal.” Katniss resists the urge to point out that she would have been excited about a bag of coal when she was a kid, in those years when she was keeping their little family together while Mrs. Everdeen wallowed in her misery. But it’s been six years since her father’s death, and she’s trying to let go of that anger.

“So Christmas is just for children?” Katniss doesn’t think Peeta would be so sad about missing out on a new tin whistle or spinning top.

“It was a little different for adults, I think. I don’t remember a lot,” she admits. “There would be a special dinner, a feast really, and decorations. And presents too, I think, if there was enough money.” There is definitely not enough money in the Everdeen household for whatever a Merchant Christmas would look like.

But maybe…

“Will you help me?” Katniss asks, with some reluctance. She loves her mother, but even after all of these years, she finds it difficult to trust her, and almost never asks for her help in anything.

Mrs. Everdeen brightens up. “Yes,” she says. “We’ll have to be careful. But I think we can put together a few things.”

“Where do we start?”

o-o-o

“Chop down a tree?” Prim’s eyes widen incredulously. “Are you serious?”

“That’s what she said,” Katniss sighs. “Apparently it’s a big deal. You chop down an evergreen tree and haul it inside the house, then decorate it with berries and popcorn.”

“That sounds beautiful,” Prim sighs, reminding Katniss that her little sister is still so young and so full of wonder. To Katniss, it just sounds like a lot of work and a waste of food.

“Sure,” Katniss says. She doesn’t have the heart to discourage Prim’s whimsy. “But how am I going to get a tree into the house without Peeta seeing?” It’s hard enough even to find occasions to chat with Prim without Peeta around, but on Mondays and Wednesdays at lunchtime he has wrestling practice. She’s not complaining about his presence, she loves having him around, and so does Prim. Madge had warned her that having Peeta living with her would probably be the end of their relationship, since Katniss was a loner by nature. But the opposite has been true. Having Peeta around all of the time, seeing his constant kindness and compassion, no matter the situation, she’s fallen even more deeply in love with him, and found a well of patience she never knew she possessed.

“I think he’s helping Leevy’s dad tomorrow afternoon for a couple of hours,” Prim says. “If the tree is little enough, we could hide it in our bedroom, then drag it out after Peeta goes to bed.” The timing is just right, he’d wake up on Christmas morning to a decorated tree, and Katniss has plans for the fat turkey she shot yesterday to become the special feast. 

o-o-o

“It looks ridiculous,” Katniss grouses. The tree, though barely a sapling, takes up almost all of the space in their tiny bedroom not already occupied by the two beds. All three Everdeen women share the room, while Peeta sleeps on a pallet in what used to be their summer kitchen. It’s drafty in there, and cold in the winter, but he never complains. 

“I think it’s magical,” Prim sighs around a mouthful of popcorn. The little tree is encircled with strings of the fluffy white stuff, which feels like a colossal waste of food, as well as cranberries, which bothers Katniss less since she’s not fond of the sour red berries anyway. Prim has cut paper dolls and nestled them into the branches too, and their mother has contributed some leftover strands of colourful wool from who knows where, pine cones dangling from the ends. 

Prim is so giddy during dinner that Katniss thinks surely Peeta will suspect something, but he’s quiet and distracted, tired from helping Leevy’s dad patch his roof and wrapped in the melancholy that’s dogged him for a couple of weeks now. Katniss hopes their Christmas surprise will cheer him up. She misses her always positive boyfriend. Her dandelion. 

It takes all three Everdeens to drag the little tree out, tiptoeing past the door to the summer kitchen, where Peeta retired early. They set it in the corner of the living area, wedged between the wall and the mantel, and though the tree isn’t even as tall as Katniss herself, it dominates the small room. 

Mrs Everdeen weaves together the small branches Katniss trimmed from the tree, fashioning a patchy garland she winds along the mantel over the stove. 

Katniss smiles. As silly as this whole exercise is, she can see how it’s going to charm Peeta with his love of whimsy. And Prim’s glowing happiness is a nice side effect. Maybe this Christmas stuff isn’t so bad after all.

She’s still smiling when she and Prim crawl into bed, even though the blankets are full of scratchy bits of popcorn.

o-o-o

She’s awake before dawn, which is typical, she wakes up early even on mornings when she’s not planning to hunt in the forest. But today, Prim is awake too, which is strange, it’s not even a school day. The excitement of Christmas morning, Katniss guesses. The girls whisper beneath their blankets, talking excitedly about Peeta’s surprise, but also about the things they don’t always have private time to chat about. The boys Prim is just starting to notice, the new dress Madge wore to school the day before, the chickens that the blacksmith is raising who always escape their coop. Sister stuff. Being forced to grow up too fast by their father’s death impacted their relationship, forcing Katniss to parent her little sister instead of being a friend. But lately things have been improving. Since Peeta moved in, really. He’s been a ray of sunshine, good tempered and helpful and hopeful, making everything easier in the little Seam shack. And their mom has been more present; Katniss is sure that too is Peeta's influence. 

When finally they hear the door between the summer kitchen and the house creak open on its old hinges, they throw back the blankets and sneak to the bedroom door. 

Peeta is standing very still in the main room, facing the tree. Prim hangs back a bit, but Katniss walks to him, the floor cold even through her socks, and lays a tentative hand on his forearm. 

He turns to face her, eyes shimmering wet. “Katniss,” he gasps. Then he’s pulling her into his arms, enveloping her in the warmth and strength of his embrace. 

“Happy Christmas,” she whispers, and he laughs softly, a broken little sound of pain and pleasure. He presses his lips to her temple, she can feel him smiling. They’re seldom physically affectionate in the house, it just seems disrespectful, but he holds her so tightly on this Christmas morning, his first without his family, and she clings to him. 

“You did all of this for me?” he murmurs against her hair. 

Katniss nods, snuggling more deeply into him, his heart beating under her ear. 

“What are those?” Prim squeaks from beside them. Katniss pulls back just slightly, unwilling to fully relinquish Peeta. It’s been so long since they’ve held each other like this, winter gives them few opportunities to cuddle without an audience. She looks around his broad shoulder, to where Prim is perched on the tips of her toes, like a bird about to take flight. Hanging from the mantel are three socks. “Why are our socks hanging over the stove?”

“Stockings.” Katniss remembers her mother calling them. “But how?”

“Father Christmas, of course.” All three young people turn at Mrs Everdeen’s voice. “You must all have been very good this year.”

Katniss and Prim both look confused, but Peeta smiles broadly. “Father Christmas brings treats for all of the good little girls and boys,” Peeta tells Prim, his smile bright. “He fills their stockings at Christmastime.”

Prim looks as pleased as Katniss has ever seen her, happier even than Peeta. Katniss glances at their mother, who is also smiling widely. Mrs. Everdeen must have snuck out after everyone was asleep and set this up. So that they could all have a special Christmas celebration.

Mrs. Everdeen insists on making tea before they look in their stockings, Katniss and Peeta sit side by side on the faded couch, his arm wrapped around her, the huge smile still resident on his face. Prim flits around, first helping her mother, then darting back to look at the stockings again, back and forth. She’s thirteen now, when Katniss was thirteen she was hunting and taking care of her family, she had no time for frivolity and no appetite for it either. But it’s so nice to see Prim acting like the young girl she is. It warms Katniss’s heart.

“You don’t celebrate Christmas,” Peeta says softly in Katniss’s ear as they watch Prim dance.

“No,” Katniss admits. “But you do.”

Peeta nods. “We weren’t allowed to talk about it. But Father Christmas always came on Christmas, even when it was a school day.” Pain flits across his features, cracking Katniss’s heart. “I miss them,” he admits. “I know I shouldn’t.”

“They’re your parents,” Katniss says simply, and Peeta nods. They’re terrible parents, by all measures. But Katniss knows that he can’t stop loving them, even if she doesn’t fully understand why. 

“I can’t help wondering if there are still three stockings on their mantel,” he whispers. “If they miss me at all.”

Katniss doesn’t have an answer for that, but she shifts to hug him tightly. 

With hot cups of tea and slightly hard biscuits from the day before consumed, Mrs. Everdeen hands each child a stocking. Prim laughs in delight, pulling each surprise from the sock and dancing around the small room to show everyone else. Katniss and Peeta poke through their stockings much more slowly, savouring the experience. Katniss keeps glancing at her mother, who looks happier than Katniss can remember. She hasn’t seen a smile like that since before her father died.

Katniss’s sock contains a stick of peppermint candy, a bottle of liniment for sore muscles, and a new knit hat in bright red wool. Peeta has lemon drops, a little pot of salve for winter-chapped hands and a green knit cap. Prim makes sure everyone gets an up close look at her new blue hat and hair ribbons, the cinnamon candy already consumed. Katniss knows how hard her mother would have had to have worked, to trade for the brightly coloured wool from which she made their new hats, and for the sweets and ribbons. And she’s torn between being horrified at the waste when all of that work could have been traded for things they really need, sugar or paraffin or cooking oil, and being genuinely delighted and touched. 

It’s been so long since she felt like a child, instead of a life-hardened person. So long since she’s seen her mother as a mother, instead of yet another mouth to feed. 

They prepare the holiday meal together, and while it’s not the first time they’re shared cooking duties in the little Seam shack, it might be the most joyful. Peeta tries to teach them a Christmas song, but he can’t carry a tune in a bucket, and the three Everdeen women simply dissolve in peals of laughter when poor Peeta warbles the nonsense phrase fa-la-la-la-la. 

It does nothing to diminish his joy.

The turkey is resting on the sideboard, waiting to be carved, when there’s a tap at the door. Katniss opens it with a big smile which falls when she sees two blond heads filling the frame.

She glances over her shoulder. Peeta has frozen in his table setting, he looks confused, but not unhappy to see his brothers. Katniss ushers the men into the shack which immediately feels crowded with the extra people, and closes the door against the winter wind.

“Came to wish you Merry Christmas, brother,” Brann, the eldest says. “But it looks like you’re already having a celebration.” He glances over at the little tree, the bright garland, and smiles broadly.

“Will you stay for the meal?” Mrs. Everdeen asks softly. “We were just about to begin.”

Katniss wants to protest, what is a feast for 4 will be much less adequate for six. But the way Peeta’s eyes light up so hopefully, she bites her tongue.

“We wouldn’t want to impose,” Rye says, but there’s a questioning lilt to his voice.

Prim, clearly also having read Peeta’s expression, jumps in. “Please stay,” she says brightly. “The more the merrier!” She’s tugging at their jackets before they’ve even agreed, leaving them little choice. Katniss bites back a smile. Prim’s jolly mood is infectious.

Brann extracts a small lump wrapped in a bit of bakery paper from his pocket before Prim takes his coat. He places it in Peeta’s hand. “Merry Christmas,” he says softly, before tugging his little brother into a hug. Rye joins, and Katniss glances away, giving the young men some bare semblance of privacy.

She has, in the past, resented Peeta’s brothers for not doing more to help him, for living their cushy merchant life while Peeta sleeps on a wood pallet far from the stove. But she knows that’s unfair, that Brann and Rye love their brother endlessly but are powerless to change things.

Peeta’s eyes are wet when the three Mellarks break apart, but his smile is as bright and wide as Katniss has ever seen.

It’s a tight fit to squeeze six people around the tiny kitchen table and there aren’t enough chairs, but Peeta perches on the stepladder and Rye balances on a wooden crate. There is more than enough for everyone, and the tiny shack fills with laughter and stories, Peeta and his brothers trading tales of holidays past, of delights left by father Christmas, of hiding Christmas cookies when the peacekeepers came by. It’s one of the nicest evenings Katniss can remember, and she finds herself thinking maybe there is something to this Christmas stuff, this celebration that has nothing to do with Panem and everything to do with family and community.

Peeta’s brothers can’t linger after the meal, their mother will doubtless be angry they’ve been gone as long as they have. The bakery is closed in the evenings, but there are always floors to mop and hearths to sweep and grievances to listen to.

Even cleaning up is lighthearted and fun, the festive feeling stretching into the mundane chores of packing up leftovers and washing the dishes. 

When they’re done, Peeta gathers them back around the table and produces the little paper-wrapped lump his brother had given him earlier. Inside is a ball, nearly black and a little lumpy. Katniss wrinkles her nose and avoids mentioning that it smells like old man Abernathy. 

“What is it?” Prim asks, her voice reverent, understanding that the unfamiliar blob is somehow important to Peeta.

“It’s called plum pudding,” he says softly, smiling. “Our traditional Christmas dessert. Will you all share it with me?”

The lump is small, and Katniss is worried just the fumes will make them drunk. But she pulls out four plates anyway while Mrs. Everdeen freshens their tea. To her surprise, when Peeta cuts into it, it’s full of fruit and nuts. Instantly, she’s transported to a cold April morning, years ago. To a kind little boy who saved her life. The start of a friendship that became so much more. 

Katniss glances at Peeta, and finds him smiling warmly at her. She can think of that day now without anger, without anguish, because of Peeta. Because of the years of goodness she’s witnessed, the hundreds of acts of kindness he’s done not just for her, but for anyone he encounters. He makes her see the world differently. He makes everything good again, even in the midst of District Twelve, and even when his own situation is so cruelly unfair. 

“There are no plums!” Prim says, interrupting her musing. Katniss inspects the cake-like lump. Raisins, nuts and currants, and what looks like orange peel.

Peeta laughs. “There never are,” he says. 

“I could get you plums, next year I mean.” There’s an ancient plum tree, not far from her father’s lake. It never produces more than a handful of purple fruit, so Katniss seldom bothers with it. But if it’s important to Peeta, she’ll pay more attention next summer. 

Peeta beams at her. “No, I mean it isn’t made with plums. Just raisins, currants and candied peel.”

“Then why do they call it plum pudding?” Prim says, nose wrinkled. “It’s not pudding, and there are no plums.”

“I’m honestly not sure,” Peeta admits. “It’s a very old recipe.”

Katniss takes a small bite. It’s… not great. The cake makes her think of illnesses, sweet like sleep syrup and burning like the white liquor their mother gives them for coughs. 

“Not a fan, love?” Peeta says softly. He never calls her that pet name in front of anyone else, but something about the festive magic has made him a little less cautious. Or maybe it’s just his happiness overflowing.

She shrugs. She’s not keen on offending him, but she doesn’t think she can choke down a whole piece of the cake, however small it might be. Peeta seems to be enjoying it though, so she slides her plate in front of him with a grin. 

“Katniss doesn’t like sweets,” Prim interjects, and she’s not wrong. Given the choice, Katniss would always choose the more savoury treats, though she did like the taste of chocolate Peeta snuck out of the bakery for her once, years ago.

“That’s because she’s sweet enough already,” Peeta teases, and all four of them laugh. Only Peeta would ever describe Katniss as sweet. ‘Prickly’ is a far more common adjective.

Mrs. Everdeen leaves the children to finish their cake and bundles up in her heaviest coat. “I have to check on Molly Birch’s new baby,” she explains. “I won’t be long.” It’s only a two minute walk to where the Birch family lives in a little Seam shack identical to the Everdeen home, so she waves off Peeta’s offer of accompaniment.

Prim, in an act of kindness so very fitting her sweet temperament, announces that she’s got homework and takes a candle into the bedroom. Katniss knows Prim doesn’t have any pressing work, expects she’ll probably lie under the blankets and read from the plant book. She’s just giving Katniss and Peeta a few precious minutes of privacy. 

Normally it would embarrass Katniss, the implication that she and Peeta might need alone time, but today she’s just grateful. He opens his arms and she walks right into them. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, lips brushing against her neck. “This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

“So far,” Katniss whispers. She’s not one for fantasizing about the future, especially when there is still one more reaping to get through. But that it will include Peeta is a given. She used to be afraid of love, afraid of losing herself, like her mother did. But not anymore. Not with Peeta by her side.

Peeta sighs, a soft, satisfied little noise, then pulls back just slightly. Katniss scowls, but he merely grins. “There is one tradition you forgot,” he says, but his mischievous expression takes away any sting to his words. There is always fun in an expression like that.

“Oh?” Katniss says, returning his smile. 

He pulls from his pocket a small ball of greenery with tiny white berries. Katniss knows what it is, some of the bolder merchant boys hang them around the school, hoping to catch merchant girls unaware. Mistletoe. 

She laughs, but softly, so as not to disturb Prim. The walls in the shack are paper thin. Peeta nods, eyes twinkling, then lifts the little weed above her head, and bends to kiss her soundly.

[acciomalfoy]

PRANK WARS (GEORGE WEASLEY X READER)

Warnings: none

“You have been chosen. Within this box contains hundreds, if not a thousand Weasley Wizard’s Wheezes products. This year, we have elected one wizard from the houses of Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin to assist us in popping the vein on Snape’s head. None of you know the others identities. Your job is pranking every house mate you have, and avoiding suspicion. If you are caught, you will become our number one target. Winner takes all, and the prize is worth more than it’s weight in gold. Good luck.” I breathed, reading the letter in the parcel. Luckily the package had had a note on the side warning the receiver to open in their room. I hadn’t been expecting anything, and I hadn’t seen if any owls had flown in with a matching parcel. I opened the package, and I grinned. It was bright, bursting with colours and tricks. My brain was already planning just how I was going to trick the rest of Slytherin house.

I walked silently, pondering about whether or not my plan would work. I hoped it did. I didn’t want to disappoint Fred or George, however annoying they were in classes. I wonder how they had chosen me, and then I wondered who else they had chosen. They didn’t choose anyone from Gryffindor I noticed, which meant they had big plans for their house. I hoped mine didn’t pale in comparison. The Great Hall was already open, as it opens before five on Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Sunday’s. Unsurprisingly, the room was empty of people.

I walked over to the Slytherin table, and fished my bag of tricks out of my pocket. I dropped a couple of Weasely’s Snaps into each goblet. Once the goblets were shaken, or even moved in some cases they would pop, causing the drink to explode in the drinkers face. In order to not arise suspicion, I put the Snaps in every goblet, so even I would fall victim. They were also charmed, so when I said the word “fumious” they would explode. Then I snuck back to the common room, and more importantly, my bed.

My roommate, Astoria, woke me up by shrieking into my ear, and I almost bit her nose off.

“Shove off, Tori.” I groaned, getting out of bed despite my protesting. She laughed and began getting changed. I turned my bisexual ass around and got changed facing the other direction. My wand was on my bedside table, and I accio’d it to me as we walked out the door. The common room was loud as usual, and it resembled my anticipation for breakfast.

“I’m starving. What did we have for dinner last night again?” Astoria walked like she was on a runway, and I laughed.

“What do you think you’re doing? Walking like you’re actually cool makes you look like you’ve got a stick up your ass.” She winked at me.

“Maybe I do.” I mimed vomiting.

“You’re gross! Go kiss Flint!” I laughed again at her reaction.

“Ew! I do not intend to touch that bastard, let alone- let alone- no, I can’t even say it.” We were still laughing as we entered the great hall. Everyone was chattering, and it seemed my Snaps hadn’t gone off yet. Just wait for it. We sat down, and piled our plates. I lifted my goblet, filled with water of course, and made sure as many people were holding their goblets as possible.

“Fumious.” The beautiful word was spoken by yours truly, and the Snaps flew into everyone’s faces. Pandemonium struck, and screams erupted from the Slytherin table. The water in my face was actually quite refreshing, but I feigned a look of shock. If only these bitches knew. I saw McGonagall stand up in surprise, followed by Snape. I snuck a look at George, and he was grinning at me. I grinned back proudly, and snickered at the rest of my house.

Later that day we had potions. Snape was assigning us our partners for the term, and it was shaping up to be a Slytherin-Gryffindor mix.

“Y/n L/n and Fred Weasley.” I looked up when someone sat beside me.

“George? Why are you here?” George winked at me, and I raised an eyebrow.

“Nice prank this morning. It was pretty cool. How did you get them all to go off at the same time?” He asked curiously. I assembled the potions ingredients and smiled mysteriously.

“Little trick I learnt. You didn’t actually think you two were the only ones who prank people at Hogwarts, did you?” One look at George’s face told me did. I laughed.

“Hey! How did you do it? It could drastically improve our performances!” He pleaded. I shook my head smugly.

“Sorry, Georgie. This spell is for my family only.” I laughed when he scowled, but I saw a looming presence headed our way.

“Ten points from Gryffindor for distracting Miss L/n.” Snape walked away as quickly as he arrived, and George’s classmates groaned. Fred grinned.

“So, how did you choose the three people?” I asked, preparing the potion ingredients.

“Tell me how you did the spell and I will.” George tapped his nose.

“No way. I don’t care that much. I think I’ll go tell Snape that you’re in the wrong seat.” I went to stand up and George yanked me down.

“You do that and you’re dead. You’ll become the target of every prank we pull.” He glared at me and I laughed.

“Only kidding, George. Lighten up a little, anyone would think you’re related to Snape.” He scowled at me and I smiled, adding asphodel roots to the potion.

It was two days before my next prank. I had been practising this one like crazy, because levitation was hard enough when you weren’t levitating sixty plates at once. The other houses had done their first pranks throughout the two days, and meal times were the prime time. Every time we sat down for meals, students anticipated the prank, but never who it was for, and never what it was.

When we sat down for dinner, I fiddled with my wand under the table, practising that damn swish and flick. I piled some pasta onto my plate, and I scanned the table to make sure everyone had food on their plate.

“Wingardium Leviosa!” I muttered. The plates, sixty fucking plates, all flew up. The hall was filled with loud laughter and groans, and the Slytherins tried to reach theirs, which was settled above their heads. The plates only went higher, always just out of reach. Snape stood, and marched over to the table. The plates all moved towards Snape like he was a magnet. He was surrounded, and still out of reach from them. All we could see was a tornado of plates, no Snape.

“Oh my god!” Astoria squealed, and I gasped with her.

“Where did he go?” I laughed and tried to peer through the tornado.

“Is he dead?” Shit, I fucking hope not. I moved the plates away, and they settled back on the table, in completely different spots.

“Who the fuck eats meatloaf?” I stared at the lump in front of me. Hmm, that would be a good prank.

“Just get a roll and put it in there. Tastes slightly more bearable.” Astoria had a tuna salad, that stunk.

“Tuna smells, but it doesn’t taste that bad. No, I am not swapping for your meatloaf.” I groaned, and poked the meatball with the fork. Snape slunk back to the teachers table, and that was the end of that.

George caught my eye when Astoria and I were leaving the Great Hall. He winked, and I winked back.

Two days later I had a new plan. This one, like the plates, didn’t involve one of the twins products. This was just me and my words. With the help of the house elves, of course.

I made up an excuse to skip our free last period, telling Tori I had to talk a professor. I didn’t say which one, and she didn’t ask. I went to the kitchens, and with a tickle of a pear I entered. House elves were bustling about, and I stopped one.

“Hi!”

When I left, it was with a smug smile and chocolate around my lips.

We sat down, the food already appearing. It looked delicious, as always. I didn’t quite know what to grab, knowing it all tasted the same. I decided on my usual, delicious cheesy pizza. I put on my plate, and filled my goblet with juice before hearing the shouts.

I feigned shock on the off chance anyone was looking at me, and I craned my neck to see the commotion.

Astoria spat out the pizza she had just taken a bite of, and took a gulp of her goblet.

“What the fuck is wrong with this pizza?” She looked so disgusted, and I laughed.

“What do you mean? I know you’re picky but damn, did you have to come after pizza? It didn’t do anything wrong-” She shoved her slice in my mouth and I groaned, biting down. It tasted like shit. Personally, I’ve never eaten shit, but it tasted like the scent of Astoria after she ate baked beans. I spat it out into my napkin, and almost threw up.

“Ew!” I didn’t realise it would taste quite as bad as this. The house elves had truly outdone themselves. With a flick of my wand the taste of shit was vanished from the food, and I picked up my pizza.

“Let’s try mine.” I took a bite, and the cheesy goodness overwhelmed me. I sighed in happiness, and practically shoved the slice in Astoria’s mouth. She glared at me as she chewed, but it turned into a dreamy look. I picked up another slice and took a bite. Delicious.

“Hey, it tastes good now!” Millicent Bulstrode, a girl a couple years below us, belted out. Everyone hurriedly took another bite, collective sighs of relief filling the room. Astoria and I shared relieved grins, and I wondered what the hell I could do top my previous pranks.

We heard the next morning on our way to breakfast. Roger Davies had been caught by Filch trying to slip frogs into the Ravenclaw’s breakfast! Pansy, a girl in Millicent’s year, spilled the news excitedly.

“Apparently there’s been a competition, it’s not just pranks for fun. I heard that two people from each house were chosen by the Weasleys to battle it out it pranks. See you!” She whisked off to spread the news to others, while Tori and I shared a look.

“This does sound very, how will I put it, Weasley.” I said, and Astoria laughed.

“True. I wonder who the Slytherin students are.” We looked around at the group that was with us, trying to figure out who it was. Or, in my case, trying to act like it wasn’t me. We reached the Great Hall, to see the Weasely twins with Roger at the front, talking with Dumbledore. That couldn’t be good. Tori and I took our usual seats, when Malfoy sat on the other side of me.

“Hey L/n.” I eyed him suspiciously.

“Morning Malfoy.” He gave me a small smile before turning to his friend on his other side.

“That was weird.” I murmured to Tori, who shook her head.

“He likes you. Godric, Malfoy likes you!” I laughed hysterically, choking on my orange juice. Tori was funny.

“I’m serious-“

“Attention, please. Could the two students from Slytherin and Hufflepuff involved in the Weasley twins, ahem, contest, please make their way to the front.” The hall fell silent, and I eyed the Hufflepuff table. Who was going to stand up? When Cedric Diggory, the dreamy curly haired boy stood up, I gasped.

“Where’s Slytherin’s competitor?” Tori glanced around the table, and when I stood up, she gasped.

“You bitch!” I hid my smile as I walked up, my cheeks burning red. This was so embarrassing.

“In case students were unaware, these three students recently undertook a challenge set by the Weasley twins. Best pranks win until someone gets caught. To determine who’s pranks were the best, the loudest applause takes the title of Vice Pranker. Applause for Davies.” The Great Hall erupted in chatter and claps, and I knew that it would be silent when my name was called.

“Diggory.” Hufflepuffs are loud, I’ll give them that. The screaming that was heard was deafening, and I grinned at Diggory. I never would have guessed him.

“L/n.” The Great Hall shook, and I covered my mouth. For what must have been the first time in Hogwarts history, Slytherin and Gryffindor were on the same side. Who would have guessed?

“Y/n L/n, I now pronounce you Vice Pranker. Will you please step forward and close your eyes to claim your prize.” My eyes searched Tori’s in the crowd, but I couldn’t see her. I stepped forward hesitantly, closing my eyes. I heard shuffling, and when lips met mine, I opened my eyes. George stepped back and grinned.

“Vice Pranker. Pleasure to meet you.”

[leggomylino]

Pushing Up Daisies | Seo Changbin

Genre: fluff, crack, comedy, college au, secret admirer/stalker au

Pairing: Seo Changbin x fem!reader

Word Count: 4.7k

A/n: Masterlist(s) linked down below and in bio!!! | Requested by @hanniiesuckle17​ <3

— ✔✘✔✘ —

Darkness fell like a cloud over the room, a hazy mist where Changbin found the most comfort. It was a place where he felt calm, collected, cool, and accepted.

It was also the place he resided to watch Y/n L/n. The cute new transfer student from out of town.

Now, he didn’t think what he was doing was creepy. Or weird. Or immature. Not by any means; he was simply keeping an eye on her to make sure she was safe; the library could be a dangerous place, and there were all sorts of sick and twisted weirdos running around at this late hour of six p.m. that purposely targeted nice foreign girls like Y/n. He’d seen it happen all the time. It was more common than he’d like to admit. Which is why it was up to him to keep an eye out for her, since Chan was working late (again) at the studio and the mighty Lord knew Han Jisung wasn’t gonna do jack squat, especially not after Hyunjin had to go mentioning the grand opening of some new restaurant called...Factory Cheesecake? Cake Factory? Something like that.

That only left himself to rely upon. The only one truly trustworthy and qualified to keep Y/n safe. Even if it meant having to—

“Changbin!”

Clank. “OW!”

Rubbing his now slightly swollen forehead, he turned around the cramped space to peer over his shoulder. “What is it? What are you doing up here?”

Felix bowed his head, an apology hanging in the air. “Sorry. Seungmin sent me to get you. He said he’s clocking out in five minutes and he doesn’t want to get in trouble for your…“deed.”” He blinked. “He used other words I’d rather not repeat, though.”

Changbin scratched his chin. Ah, yes. The perks of having a roommate that worked part-time at the campus library: free access anywhere, so long as they’re on duty. And you don’t get caught. Like that one time he and Han scoured the back storage room for vaults holding the answer key to Mr. Kim’s final, and...well, that wasn’t important now. “Tell him I’ll be down in ten. I think she’s almost done.”

Felix glanced through the slits of the metal air duct, then back at his buddy. “...Are you sure you’ve really thought this through all the way?” His face scrunched up in an awkwardly distasteful matter, and he looked away, as if he couldn’t bear to commit such a crime. Like what he was doing was even criminal. “Why don’t you just talk to her? Instead of...y’know…” He blinked, gesturing to the cramped space around them. “Hiding in the air duct? It’s kinda creepy, is what I’m saying. And unethical...actually, very creepy and very unethi—“

“Okay! I got it already!” Changbin waved his hands. He didn’t need to hear this from someone he cared about. “Shoo, shoo! Go have dinner with Hyunjin and the bottomless cake pit.”

“You mean Han?”

“Duh.”

...Sighing, Felix left without another word. 

Finally—

“...I really think you should just talk to her!” His voice echoed. Changbin sighed.

...Okay, a few words. “Go!!!”

His harsh command bounced around the narrow chamber, spiraling down out of the air duct. Gasp. He covered his mouth, praying to heaven no one heard him; peering down, the study corner Y/n was in— if not the library itself— was nearly vacant, with only one other student reading at a far table and a few stragglers making their final choices.

It would appear his voice had gone unnoticed. Phew.

Y/n was still standing at the same shelf. She’d been standing there for over twenty minutes, occasionally pacing back and forth a few steps, side-to-side, trying to make up her mind. Most guys hated that, but Changbin couldn’t help but find it cute and endearing; like a lost little star trying to find her way home, calculating the best route, hesitant, waiting to shine. Most guys took it as a lacking sign to confidence, but to Changbin, it just showed that she was smart. She didn’t want to barrel straight ahead; she gathered data, took notes, and made the best option that would satisfy both her needs and her interests. And to Changbin, there was nothing hotter than that...

Suddenly, her hand moved. The one with the leather watch she wore, rumored to be a gift from her father. It was worn and frayed, the inseam splitting at the ends. Brown; tan. A simple clock face encased in basic sterling silver. She wore it everyday, but it’d been a while since he’d seen the pleated pink skirt that swayed above her ankles, or the matching floral-printed scarf—

Her hand brushed against the spine of a worn old poetry catalogue. Oh no. This is it. She’s really going for it. His letter…

She was so close to finding it. Twice a week, Changbin would rush down seven flights of stairs and across five blocks of campus property to make it to the library an hour before Y/n was set to arrive, as she always visited the library after English 1302 on Mondays and Wednesdays. Something about departing from that class must have left her longing for more, he figured; she was a writing major, after all. He didn’t do well under too much pressure, so after panicking about what he was going to say this time, he’d steal borrow some of Seungmin’s fancy calligraphy paper in order to write her a poem, something soft and...what was that word he’d looked up last week...lilting, which he was pretty sure meant the same thing as uplifting and...happy. Then he’d have Seungmin (one time Han; big mistake) hack into her leasing record in order to find out which books she was currently into, or which ones she had on hold. He’d carefully and strategically place the handwritten poem inside the book’s first few pages.

The book was in her hands now. She’d chosen his book! Again! She was examining the cover...flipping it over…...now, she was…?

...She put it back.

Again. He lowered his head with a sigh. Game over. You lost again. He gripped his hands into fists; when? When would he learn? When would it be his turn to win?! …!

Oh? What was this…?

A figure turned the left corner too fast, crashing into Y/n. She stumbled to the right, dropping said book as well as her belongings and sending them somersaulting to the pale blue carpet.

The letter he’d tucked between pages four and five spiraled out a foot away. Unopened, still sealed securely in a crisp white envelope with a Molang sticker. He’d heard she liked him.

Some Shady Guy was now talking to Y/n. “I’m so sorry! Let me help you— I’ll get—”

Y/n picked the book off the ground, dusting and checking it for damages like her first priority. She was so selfless, caring more for a damaged old tomb rather than her shiny new laptop and fancy water bottle. “Oh, no, that’s okay, don’t worry about it…” 

Her eyes fell upon the letter. Changbin held his breath. Oh no. Not now. Not with some punk watching! The moment would be totally ruined!!!

Shady Guy beat her to it, his undeserving fingers tainting Changbin’s craft. “Here. Is this yours?” He examined it. Smirked. Disgusting. “Cute. Aren’t you a little old for cartoons, though?”

Who here gave you permission to judge her?! ...Wait.

Y/n took the letter, frowning. “I don’t think so...Molang is for girls and boys of all ages. He’s cute. But, this isn’t mine…someone must have left it as a bookmark.” Her eyes swept the room. “I’ll go return it to the front desk.”

The… The front… 

His face hardened. What?! No!!! That’s your letter! URGH!!! Were girls always this frustrating?! ...And why is this guy still standing so close?! … … 

It couldn’t be helped; with defeat, he watched the two of them walk away.

— ✔✘✔✘ —

The next day at lunch, Minho squinted at him in anger.

“I can’t believe you skipped out on dinner with us again to go stalk the new girl.”

Beside him, Hyunjin huffed his agreement over a juice box that was meant for a five year old. Changbin groaned. “It’s not stalking. You make it sound like I’m a pervert or something...I’m not, I’m just…”

...His voice trailed off into a long, steady exhale. Beside him, Seungmin rolled his eyes. “Next time, at least quit using the air vent. I’m tired of growing a collection of ulcers in my gut because I’m afraid you’re going to make one wrong move and come crashing down through the ceiling like doom over Narnia, and then we’re both going to get in trouble for it.” He practically slammed down his bowl of soba. “I need this job, Bin.”

Across the outdoor picnic table, Minho froze halfway through unwrapping his sandwich, Hyunjin nearly choking on his orange juice. The former of the two cast a chilling glare while Hyunjin fought through a coughing fit. “You…”

Crap. And just when he’d thought Seungmin would be the least likely to open his big mouth. Changbin pressed his lips into a hard line before speaking. “...It’s not what you think—”

“Isn’t it, though?!” Hyunjin blurted. His juice box went flying into the nearest trash can as he pointed drastically in the direction of the library a few blocks down. Dance majors. “You’re telling me you’ve been bailing on dinner with us at the best new restaurant in town to go crawl through the dusty library airways and spy on a girl who doesn’t even know you?!”

“Say it a little louder, why don’t you!” Changbin hissed. “And hey,” he added, leaning over his ramen. “We’ve talked before. We’re in the same writing class.”

“Over a project!” The Dance major roared. “That hardly counts!”

He and Changbin both fell back into their seats with a thud, exhausted with each other. Minho sighed. “Well,” he mumbled, “I guess we’re just going to have to show him.”

At this, everyone gave Seoul University’s one and only Bundle Boy a quizzical look. “What do you mean?” Seungmin asked.

Bundle Boy smiled, already stacking his leftovers. “Come on. Finish eating already and we’ll show you.”

Hyunjin blinked, gesturing back and forth between the two of them. “We…?”

Smack. “Just do it already. Let’s go. Quickly.”

Stunned, he had no choice but to inhale his soup on the way over.

— ✔✘✔✘ —

The library was ironically closed for renovations that day; something about a generous donation from some well-to-do politician wanting his name engraved along the school walls. Whatever.

After bribing Seungmin into using his key, in the very same room where Y/n had been pondering her next private adventure surfing amongst old worn pages, Minho placed his hands on his hips, taking the roll of stage director. “Okay, now.” He pointed left. “Hyunjin, you go backstage. Pick a book off the shelf and get yourself ready. You two,” he piped, startling the remaining cast members, “will sit over there. Watch how it’s done.”

“......” Side-eyeing the other, Changbin and Seungmin took their seats at a nearby study table. The former could tell the latter was regretting his decision to let them in already.

Minho smiled. “Great,” he said, taking what was supposed to be Center Stage. “Now—” 

Seungmin raised his hand. The director sighed. 

“Yes?”

Seungmin lowered his hand with a soft plop. “Do I really have to be here for this? Don’t we all have better things to be doing right now?”

...It was a fair question. But Minho didn’t really seem to care much for fairness. “Yes, this is a team effort. I’m telling Chan you said that at our next rehearsal.”

The boy groaned.

“Now,” Director Bundle began. “Watch and learn how the pros do this. I’ll be Changbin, and Hyunjin is Y/n.” He turned his head to the side. “Cue!!!”

The lights suddenly dimmed, shocking the audience as they looked around curiously. “I could have sworn no one was on staff today,” Minnie mumbled.

Then the lights rose again, slowly in escalation, as a far-too-tall and far-too-muscular Y/n entered Stage Right. His eyes blinked wildly from atop the horizon of an encyclopedia about frogs. “Look,” he cooed, voice far too high and squeaky. Changbin and Seungmin both cringed. “I’m Y/n! I love books and boys and all the many girlish wonders that girls like me enjoy! Teehee!”

...Dear Lord, strike him now. Changbin rose from his seat. “Stop!!!”

His cry fell on deaf ears as the show went on, Minho turning and giving his best, dreamiest, disgustingly playboy-ish smile. “You’re Y/n?”

Hyunjin giggled (to which Changbin felt sick), the book never leaving the lower half of his face. “That’s me!”

“Changbin” (Minho) cocked his head aside, shifting his bangs to the right. Seungmin gagged. “That’s a cute name. A cute name for an even cuter gi—”

Fzzt! ...The power went out.

From the far corner, the real Changbin glared a storm across the room, holding the power extension cord too tightly. “That’s enough,” he grumbled, tossing the extension aside. “I didn’t come here for you to mock me. Or her. I’m not sure what I’m more angry about: the fact that you dare mock an innocent girl, someone I care about, to my face...or the fact that the two of you are supposed to be my friends.”

Hyunjin tossed his book on the table, doing his best sassy Dance major pose: a hand on his hip, knee slightly bent, head tilted to the side. Dance majors. “You can’t say you care about her, Changbin. You hardly know her.”

“I told you we’ve spoken on more than one occasion!”

“Over a project! That doesn’t count!”

“You said it hardly counts before!!”

“Yeah?! Well now I’m changing my answer!!!”

“Okay, okay…” Seungmin rose from his seat, wading between the two. “That’s enough. Fighting never solves anything.” He peered over his shoulder, focusing his gaze between the shelves. “Also, you need to keep your voices down— I’m not losing my job over something this dumb.”

“......” With a grunt, Changbin marched his way toward the exit; Screw these guys, whatever. He didn’t need their help and never asked for it anyway. He was doing just fine in his relationship with Y/n that...didn’t quite exist… 

He’d almost made it to the door until Hyunjin stopped him. The should-have-been Drama major’s long fingers curved harshly over Changbin’s bulky shoulder. 

“...Just face it, Bin,” he whispered. “Y/n...she’s one of those girls. A bookworm. She’s out there. Way out there.” He sighed. The whole room seemed to. “Girls like her live on another planet. You’ll be pushing up daisies before she agrees to go on a date with you.”

“......” 

Changbin scoffed, carrying his storm out of the room.

— ✔✘✔✘ —

At 2:46 a.m that night (morning?), Changbin lied awake in his dorm room, pondering many things. Too many things that shouldn’t have had any connection whatsoever, yet did all the same. Because life was messy, and love was fornot.

What is it with girls? He thought. I’ve never put so much thought into one before. They were just...there, and then Y/n showed up, and suddenly it’s like I forgot how to read. I saw her smiling, looking all pretty by the lecture hall window...I know I’ve written a song about her before.

Shift. The gray wall facing him gave no comfort.

...And what about them? Hyunjin, Minho, Seungmin...criticizing and judging me like that… Hyunjin… He had no right to say that to me. “You’ll be pushing up daisies before she agrees to go on a date with you!1!1!” ...Pfft. Please. What does he know?! Who does he think he is giving me advice? About Y/n?? After his horrible misrepresentation of her?!? ...Man, I miss Jeongin. I wonder when he’ll be back from his field trip...

Toss. The ceiling was no help either.

Then again… Is it really that strange? I was just keeping an eye on her. She should be grateful, right? Who doesn’t like having protection throughout the day? … … 

Sigh. ...Maybe… Maybe it is kinda weird what I’ve been doing...how I’ve been acting...my behavior… … … 

Turn. The ticking of the far clock mocked him. All his lost hours of sleep...tormented by his own thoughts...

… … … 

“...Hnnn!” 

Shift. Toss. Sigh. Turn. Watching the seconds pass him by Changbin rolled about in agony, puzzled and tried over the last few weeks. Perhaps, as Hyunjin had said, even before his most recent insult, Changbin’s behavior as of late really had been “ugh.” …

A pillow fell over his face. He didn’t know what to think anymore. Maybe, as ridiculous as it all was, Minho and Hyunjin had been onto something; maybe all he needed to do was introduce himself. Start fresh, simple, anew. Maybe, this whole time, all he needed was to treat Y/n like a person he was interested in, rather than a science experiment he had to guard from afar. Maybe, just maybe, all he needed to do was say “hello”...

Unfortunately for him, “hello” was currently the word he was most afraid of.

“Changbin…”

He rolled over, peering down at the lower bunk; what could he say, except, Music and Photography majors didn’t make that much? At least not as undergrads. “Hm?”

Seungmin squinted up at him with sleepy eyes. “Turn off the light. I have two exams tomorrow…”

Shoot. Changbin grimaced, reaching for the switch. “...Sorry.”

Chink. Lights out. 

“...Changbin?”

Chink. Lights on. “Yes?”

“......” Seungmin sat up, trailing his drowsy behind to the guest couch on the other side of the 12 x 10 room, the one Chan or Han sometimes crashed on during late nights producing or editing soundtracks. He pulled a blanket over his head, curling up beneath it like a puppy. “...Do you wanna talk about yesterday?”

Changbin scoffed, shifting his gaze to glare anywhere else. “...Like I’d wanna spend my precious time talking about those two.”

“So it is bothering you.”

Changbin fell silent.

“...The fact that you’re awake right now tells me that you’re letting them get to you. You shouldn’t.”

“I’m not! I never said they were bothering me!”

“It’s what you didn’t say that tells me otherwise.”

Changbin huffed. “Don’t you have an exam tomorrow?”

“I have two, actually,” the boy answered. “One at eight and one at nine.”  

“Then go to bed. Quit worrying about me and mind your own business. Class starts in a few hours.”

Chink. Lights out.

...But though he rolled over, pulling the sheets above his head and facing the gray wall, the annoying brat missing from the lower bunk didn’t move. In fact, Changbin could feel his eyes burning a rash on his skin, spelling out the words, you’re lying; accept your feelings. Talk to me.

Chink! He swung back up into a sitting position. 

“Okay, fine! Sheesh…” he groaned. Below, Seungmin almost bounced in delight, were he not engaged in a battle of fending off certain unconsciousness.

“Great...tell me what’s troubling you.”

“...That’s…” 

Good grief. That was far easier said than done. He’d become so defensive, the automatic response to escape Changbin’s lips were always, “That’s none of your business,” “It’s none of your concern,” “Quit asking me about it.” 

Now, here he was, at confession hours. He adjusted himself, the words swirling in his gut; hissing at the proposal of facing sunlight, wishing to remain buried. “...I just…” He began picking at the fabric around his legs. “...I don’t feel like myself lately. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m so tired… Everything was fine until Y/n came here. Now…” He breathed. “...It’s like I can’t do anything properly anymore, and I’m not myself at all. I lost myself the moment I walked into class, and she was standing there, smiling under the sunshine and fluorescent lighting. ...Argh, listen to me! I never said crap like this before she came! It sounds so stupid!”

Seungmin continued to listen, patiently, as Changbin spilled his thoughts. Every waking thought he’d had since a few Monday’s ago. He nodded his head...starting to sway…

“...And it’s like, I’m saying all these words I’ve never even heard of before, y’know? You’ve noticed it too, right? Like my vocabulary is proliferating. It’s a nightmare! But...what really scares me is…” 

He paused. On the couch, Seungmin fell over, beginning to snore softly.

“...I don’t like the person that I’ve become. I heard it said before that when you fall in love, or some garbage like that, you’re supposed to...become a better person? That learning from that person is supposed to help you mature? … All I’ve learned to do is become...some creepy stalker. I never saw myself becoming like this, not for a minute, but with her it’s like...I totally…”

“...Zzzk!” Seungmin sat up. “...Hm? What? ...Oh, uh…” He rubbed his eyes. “I heard you, I swear I did. Hang on…” He yawned, squinting upward. “...You’re not learning from her.”

Changbin turned toward the couch. “What?”

Seungmin adjusted himself, working at removing a year’s worth of sleep in his eyes. “You haven’t been following her example. You’ve been letting your unchecked emotions run all over you. It’s an act of immaturity and being insecure. Also, what you said before is only true if you and the other person are both mature, and share an intimate relationship. You don’t. And you’re not mature.”

To this, Changbin opened his mouth to give back some witty reply he’d stored in his new-found vocabulary somewhere, but of course, the boy dozed off, getting away with the last word like he usually did.

Pssh. Even his internal clock is in sync with his antics. Spoiled brat. That sure was a lot of words for three a.m...

… … …

He let those words reside with him. “You haven’t been following her example. You’ve been letting your unchecked emotions run all over you. It’s an act of immaturity and being insecure.”

… … …  

“Also, what you said before is only true if you and the other person are both mature, and share an intimate relationship. You don’t. And you’re not mature.”

… … … 

...Bah! He hated it. Hated hearing it, the way it sounded out loud, directed at him. 

But perhaps it was a bitter truth he had to overcome. 

“Tomorrow, you can always start anew.” ...That was a lyric from one of his favorite songs, from a rapper he admired all too well. Perhaps...maybe…

Tomorrow, I too, can start anew. … … 

...Reaching over, he turned out the light.

— ✔✘✔✘ —

The next day was Wednesday. The climax of every week. Shouts of “hUMP DAYYYY!!!” could be heard echoing around campus corridors, with students and faculty scurrying this way and that, some walking with direction and purpose, a few jogging, and others moving to a slow, leisurely pace, just getting out of class or having nowhere in particular to be.

For Changbin, it was a day of change. When the sun rose, after ignoring it for a few extra hours in defiance toward the clock that mocked him, he got dressed, ate a waffle, brushed his teeth, and combed his hair with his fingers as he hustled out the door.

“Hey!” Chan greeted him outside the door. “Ready for—”

“Busy,” he called over his shoulder.

English 1302 wasn’t until 3 p.m., but seeing as it was currently noon and he only had three hours to set himself straight, well...setting yourself straight was a daunting task. He’d need all the time he could get. Ignoring the fact that Chan and Han followed him out of the dorms and down two blocks while muttering precariously puzzling things, he set his focus solely on his current destination.

“I’m here,” he announced, slamming his bag on the front desk. Behind the library counter, Seungmin sighed, tilting his head back. 

“I’m not letting you into the air vents anymore. I told you, I’m done.” He glanced at the clock behind him. “Aren’t you a little early? Your class hasn’t even started yet. I thought you’d still be sleeping.”

“Can’t. No time.” Reaching into his bag, he pulled out his English textbook, the one with a soda stain he’d have to pay for later thanks to Yours Truly (Han Jisung). Seungmin observed it curiously.

“What’s this?”

“My textbook.”

“...We don’t have stain remover. Try the laundry room.”

Changbin rolled his eyes, biting his lip. Don’t let pride get to you right now. “...I uh…” He cleared his throat. “...It’s not that. I want you to help me study. I’d like to have something to fall back on, when talking to Y/n. In case things fall flat.”

When he looked up, the expression on Seungmin’s face was that of a thousand suns. Like the skies had cleared, and the war was over. It looked like something Shakespeare or Dr. Seuss would write about. “At last,” he said, “the drought has ended. Seeds have sprouted. There really is a brain in there.”

Changbin swatted at him. “Just shut up and tell me when your next break is.”

— ✔✘✔✘ —

“Y/n?”

Her name came rolling out of Changbin’s mouth like a stone. It started light, yet gained velocity and fell into the pool of sweat at his feet with a heavy thud.

The moment she turned around, sitting up a little straighter, a little taller, looking him right in the eyes, his mind went blank. “Yeah! What’s up?”

… … … 

He had no idea what was up. What was up? What was down? Which way was it to the nearest train station so he could use the last of his tuition money to board a train and haul it all the way to the highest bridge so he could— …

Cool, Changbin. Play it cool. The sun has risen, so you’re Mature Bin now. “Uhh…”

“......” She listed her head. “Yeah?”

“......”

“......”

“...Cake!” he blurted.

She blinked, shifting herself back while the surrounding pews started. “I’m sorry?”

“Ahh…!” Changbin adjusted himself. Took a deep breath. 

Still cool. Roll with it. 

“......” He smiled. “...Cake, uh...there’s a new cake shop that opened downtown.” He pointed...somewhere towards the door. “I was wondering if...maybe you’d...like some?”

The kindness that radiated off her features made his heart soar. “Are you asking me to come with you?”

“......” He nodded, looking away. But from the corner of his eye, he could still see her smile.

“Okay! I’d love to. Say, after class?”

He nodded again, more fervently. “...But aren’t you going to the library after this?”

Her gaze turned a bit sour and peculiar. “You...know about that? You must have seen me before.” 

Having walked in right on cue at 2:59, Hyunjin made an irate sound that wasn’t unusual of a sassy Dance major such as himself. Dance majors. “Oh, he’s seen you, alright. He—”

The nearest pencil went flying towards his head, marking his pretty boy face.

“Ahh! Seriously?!” He rummaged through his bag. “I have practice after this!”

Having turned away before, Y/n examined both men curiously before clearing her desk space for class. “Well, it can’t be helped. I do spend a lot of time there, so you were bound to pick up on it subconsciously, I’m sure.”

“Yes. That’s exactly it.”

He and Hyunjin shared a glare.

She giggled, shaking her head. “Alright then! How about this: we’ll stop by the library, and then we can go to the cake shop from there. Sound good?”

He grinned from ear to ear; blissfully, simply, politely. But most importantly: in control. “Yeah, sounds good. Oh, and Y/n?”

The clock struck three, the professor walking in right on cue. As his voice took hold of the classroom atmosphere, the two lowered their heads, voices tumbling into whispers. “Yeah?” she asked. “What is it?”

Mature Bin held fast to his smile. “Hello.”

— ✔✘✔✘ —

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

[hms-chill]

Kicking Underwater

Summary: "He's not going to be the youngest elected congressman in history without earning it, but nobody needs to know how hard he's kicking underwater. His sex-symbol stock would plummet" -- Casey McQuiston, page 3

----

Henry knows that Alex's midterm season will be hard. He knows Alex overworks himself, so he talks to June, and he makes sure he knows exactly how to look after Alex when he's at his busiest. He's ready to come home early when he can, bringing Alex's favorite takeout for days when making dinner together would take too much time. He's ready to drag Alex to bed by two AM, ready to keep him from drinking too much coffee and hiding in the office with the blinds closed all day.

What he isn't ready for is a version of Alex at midterms who seems normal, if a bit more tired. Yes, Alex is working more, but it seems reasonable. They still have their biweekly cooking lessons, and Alex joins him for David's walks sometimes. He comes to bed at reasonable hours, and he promises he's hydrating and eating while Henry's gone. So, even if Alex starts to look more tired or worried, things seem to be alright. He still works hard, he has late nights of studying or dog walks where he spends the whole time thinking aloud about an essay, but it's far from the self-destruction Henry was afraid of.

Maybe, just maybe, he's been able to help Alex relax. If Alex looks more tired, maybe it's just showing on his face more than normal. He's tossing and turning a bit more at night, but he always seems to relax when Henry holds him. If he looks more stressed, well, they can't exactly expect a stress-free midterm season. But things don't seem much worse than normal, and June seems happy, so Henry convinces himself not to be worried. He still worries, of course, but he tries to convince himself not to.

There's one week in particular that he's dreading. It's a week when Alex has two tests and an essay, and the class he's a TA for has a test, so he has forty-some essay questions to grade amidst his own studying.

But Sunday ends, and the chaos week starts, and things seem alright.

Alex's class take their test on Monday, and Alex brings home a stack of papers, but he agrees to take a break and walk David while Henry proofreads his essay, and they both agree that it's a good enough essay to call it for the night. Henry thinks it's good enough to turn in, but Alex wants to tweak it, and it's not worth the argument as long as Alex is coming to bed without Henry having to plead.

He looks tired on Tuesday, but he swears he's alright, and Henry trusts him. It must just be the stress of the week. He makes sure to tell Alex he loves him a few extra times, and even convinces Alex to accept a shoulder rub while he grades essays and makes study guides. And really, all things considered, it seems good.

Henry's not sure what wakes him up somewhere that feels like Tuesday night but is technically Wednesday morning, but when he cuddles closer to Alex to try to go back to sleep, there's a light. He opens his eyes a bit to see Alex awake, one hand around Henry, the other furiously typing into his phone. In the light of the phone screen he looks exhausted, the bags under his eyes exaggerated and every stress line deepened by the long shadows. Henry hums, reaching a heavy hand up to push Alex's phone down. Alex looks over in surprise, phone still in place.

"Hen? What are you doing up?"

"You?" Henry asks in place of an answer. Alex sighs.

"I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd get some more work done."

Except that, when Alex wants to sleep but can't, he gets up. He'll get a glass of water, or he'll wander down to the kitchen in search of helados, or he'll go to a window for some fresh air. Once, Henry even found him looking up yoga poses in the hallway outside their room. An Alex who wants to sleep but can't is a restless creature, a far cry from the boy gently stroking Henry's hair with a google doc open on his phone. Henry just shakes his head. "No. Stop work. Sleep."

"I can't sleep. I've just got to clean this essay up a bit, and then I can stop worrying about it."

"Please sleep?" Henry asks, finally awake enough for complete sentences. "It'll be there in the morning."

"So will everything else. I just have to get it done; go back to sleep."

"I thought it was done." It's due tomorrow, but Alex had said he'd turned the essay in earlier that day. Henry wonders vaguely if he can re-submit it, or if he'd never actually turned it in.

"It's... fine. It's good enough, maybe, but it's not great. I'm just... making it better so I can turn it in again and have it be great."

"It doesn't need to be great. It's okay. You're working so hard, and you're doing your best, and that's all anyone can ask. You don't need to keep working all the time, you need to sleep. You're enough as you are," Henry says.

Alex finally lets him push the phone down as he rolls over to bury his face in Henry's chest. Henry's a bit surprised, but he pulls Alex in close, rubbing his back as Alex's hands grab onto the pajama shirt Henry wears mostly so that Alex can hold onto him if he needs to, just like this. Henry just holds him until Alex looks up and says, "you're the only one who's ever said that. That I'm good enough, I mean. Other people say... they say I'm smart, or good at things, but then I have to keep being smart and good at things so I don't disappoint them. I always, always have to keep... keep being those things without trying, because if they seem me trying, or if I'm not smart or good at things, then they... it feels like they won't like me. But you... you're the only one who ever says I don't have to be anything more than I am."

"You don't, love. You're enough. Everything you do, everything you are... you're more than enough, and I adore you just how you are. I love how hard you try, but it's... you don't need to. Not for me, at least. For me, just being you is enough."

Alex lets out a snort of a laugh, humorless, his hands still tangled in Henry's shirt. "I... I don't think anyone's really gotten to see me trying before. Maybe June knows, but that's because she's smart and knows everything, not because I let her see. I... really, no one was supposed to know how hard I work. It... I'm supposed to just be naturally good at everything; I'm not supposed to have to try."

"Well, that's not very realistic."

"I know, but it... it's how it's supposed to be."

"Says who?"

"Everyone. I can't be, you know, millennial heartthrob Alex Claremont-Diaz if I have to wear reading glasses, or if I'm skipping parties to write essays, or if I drop out of school because I fail con law and I can never look Professor Westbrook in the eye again." Henry presses a gentle kiss to his forehead, trying to smooth the wrinkles there, as he processes that. He can't promise that the world will love a bespectacled Alex as much as he does, or that anyone in their right mind would understand if a law school student has to focus on a test. So instead, he focuses on the last point, knowing for a fact that Alex's con law grade is miles from forcing him to drop out.

"What do you have in con law right now, Alex?"

"A 98%, I think. But we have a test this week, and that midterm paper isn't in yet."

"I think, with a 98% and a very good paper, you're rather far from failing."

"I still could."

"I'd love you anyway. So would your family, and Nora and Bea and Pez."

"Maybe. You'd all be disappointed, though."

"We wouldn't. Or, well, I wouldn't, at least. Not if you'd done your best."

"If... if I tried and still failed, you wouldn't be disappointed in me?"

"Not at all. I love you, and I don't think I could ever truly be disappointed in you for trying." Alex looks genuinely surprised by that, and Henry's heart breaks a bit as he realizes that Alex wasn't sure of this.

"I'm proud of everything you do," Henry says softly, pressing a kiss to Alex's forehead. "I'm proud of your work ethic, and your drive to make things better. I'm proud of you when you ask for help, and when you give yourself a break, and when you put your life on hold to help people you care about, and when you're able to say no to people because you need to do something for yourself. I am always, always proud of you and the good things you do."

"Really?"

"Really. You don't need to be anything more than who you are and want to be. I'm proud of you, and I love you, and you're enough for me, no matter what."

Alex's phone buzzes from somewhere between them, but Alex ignores it to close his eyes, resting his forehead on Henry's collarbone.

"I'm proud of you. Not the things you've done, not the bits and pieces that you let everyone see. You, fully and completely. You're more than enough to make me happy forever," Henry says softly. Alex takes one deep breath, then another. Henry keeps him close, rubbing gentle circles into his back as Alex slowly accepts the compliment.

"I... I think I needed to hear that. I've been... if I tell you something, will you promise not to be mad or take that back?"

Henry nods, and into his chest, Alex says, "I've been working on study guides and essays from my phone while you sleep. Just for the past few days, but I... I wanted to be able to work, but I didn't want you to worry, so I... I waited for you to fall asleep, and then I'd stay here but work on things until I was too tired to think anymore. I'm sorry I lied. And... and that I pushed too hard. I didn't... it wasn't the plan, it just happened, I guess. I'm sorry. I'll stop."

"It's alright. I mean, it's not... I wish you hadn't, but I'm glad you told me, and I'd like to help you look after yourself. If you need to stay up later to work, you can tell me. If we need to skip a cooking lesson or a dog walk or anything, just say the word, and we'll skip it. I'm proud of how much you want to do well, and I'm proud of you for letting me know you're pushing yourself a bit too much. Could I help with the school stuff at all? Maybe I could quiz you, or grade a multiple choice section of some of the tests if the professor doesn't mind?"

"I... I think the quizzing would be good when I have a study guide. And for grading, I... I'll talk to the professor." Alex doesn't move, so Henry presses a kiss to the top of his head and says, "I love you. And I'm proud of you, I really, really am. You're more than I could have ever dreamed of, and more than enough for me."

Alex's phone buzzes again, and Henry fishes it out from between them by the charging cord, reaching over Alex to set it on the end table, switching it to do not disturb. When both his arms are back around his boyfriend, Alex cuddles in closer. He's snoring softly into Henry's chest within moments.

He's beautiful. Knowing what the days before this have been hurt Henry's heart, knowing that Alex has been so exhausted and that Henry hadn't been able to convince him to look after himself. But this Alex, the one who's finally resting, is beautiful. So Henry holds him close, and he kisses the top of Alex's head, and he swears to anyone who might listen that he's going to look after Alex. He's going to make sure Alex knows that he's proud of and supports him no matter how he does in his classes or internship or anything else. And, from now until the end of time, Henry swears that Alex will know exactly how overwhelmingly, unendingly loved he is.

On AO3

Notes:

Me? Writing something to process the terror of graduating from college when all your options are shut down by a pandemic? Never.

-

Want to support the Hannah-Makes-Art fund? You can tip me in ko-fi here!

[ambivalent-anarchy]

Hurts So Bad... (Part 3)

-

The Week That Flashed By (Part 1/3)

Masterlist

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Summary: For the first time, Peter Parker meets someone he has no idea how to save...

Warning: angst(obviously), mentions of suicide, depression, self-harm, drug use, me just exposing myself

A/N- if you only see Flash as a villain at all times then these chapters ain't for you. Not a lot of Peter this chapter but it's integral to the story so don't skip lol

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

Maybe he was hoping it'd go away.

Maybe he was wishing for the best.

Maybe he was just disregarding and ignoring you completely.

But for whatever reason, it took Peter a week to finally act. A week.

In the grand scheme of life, a week is incredibly short. However, circumstances can always change the way you perceive things.

When you have an essay due, a week seems to fly by. But when you're waiting for the new episode of your favorite tv to come, a week seems to just drag on.

The normal, busy people don't realize is that when you don't have anything to do, and when you're so far gone into the abyss, a week can genuinely seem like forever.

And your week had been nothing short of endless.

You might've finally been done with the physical low, but the mental low was practically just as bad. You could exert energy without feeling like you'd drop if a feather were to touch your shoulder, but your brain was tired.

On the upside, no one bothered you.

On the downside, no one bothered you.

You hated the silence, but strangely that's what followed you everywhere you went. Deafening silence.

You wanted so much for someone to just talk to you. Talk with you. Even if they were lying. Doesn't matter. You just wanted someone to speak. To have some type of change in your life that forced you out of the mundane, redundant, silent cycle you lived in.

Flash Thomspon was your lab partner.

You'd seen him around. He was hard to miss. Always with his jokes and his livestreams. Forever with a smile on his face. Just like Cecilia.

You remember asking her once why they weren't friends. She'd called him obnoxious.

You wouldn't call him obnoxious though, just... loud.

That Monday when lab partners were chosen, you were completely out of it.

Staring at nothing, not making a sound, setting your head down on the table, obviously not wanting to be bothered by anyone.

So when Flash got to your table, he hadn't bothered you. He walked over, simply looked at you for a bit, and once it was clear you weren't moving any time soon, he started on his notes alone.

Which you respected. That meant he was at the very least a bit sensible, if not just lazy.

The next day wasn't much different. You still weren't up for doing anything and Flash still wasn't up to bothering you.

The day after though, Wednesday, that was the day everything changed.

"Hello?," you said into your phone.

"Hey, is this [Y/N]? That quiet chick in a.p chem?"

You chuckled at the beyond simplistic description of yourself. "Uh, yeah this is she. Who's this?"

"Flash Thompson," he responded. "Coolest guy in the class."

You rolled your eyes. "Mhm, and why are you calling my phone?"

"Well-" you heard a bottle open "-we kinda have a project that's due at the end of the week. And, believe me, as much as I love doing duo projects on my own, you need to do something."

His upfrontness took you aback, but not particularly in a bad way.

And besides, you were getting sick of moping. Your curiosity wanted to see where this was going to go.

"Um, okay. So we'll crack down tomorrow then."

"How about now?" You could practically hear the smirk on his face.

"No," you quickly responded. "You mean come to your house right? Hell no."

"Why not?," he snickered. "Strict parents? Or is the pole really just that far up your ass?"

You rolled your eyes once again. You really didn't have the patience for this. "Okay I'm hanging up-"

"Wait! I'll text you my-" Click.

You stared at the wall for a good minute in complete irritation after that phone call. You had to have lost at least a hundred brain cells during that small conversation. The last thing you needed on your plate right now was some guy giving you shit.

A notification on your phone caught your attention.

3069 Oak Street

"Oh so you text me your address and now I'm just supposed to show up at your door?," you scoffed.

-

In retrospect, ringing that doorbell was probably the smartest dumb thing you ever did.

When you told your parents you were going to a friend's house, they just paused and then smiled. Your parents had no problem at all with you going out. They hadn't even asked questions. Heck they encouraged you to go out. That meant you were trying.

But fuck them. You were trying everyday. Trying not to just take the kitchen knife and slit your wrists after every dinner.

When the door to Flash's house opened you immediately noticed three things.

1) The alleged butler he'd been rumored around school to have was nowhere to be found.

2) This was an extremely nice house. Maybe even nicer than Cecilia's.

3) And Flash's eyes were red.

"Yo!," he greeted with an obnoxious grin. "Wassup?"

"We literally just stopped talking like ten mintues ago dude," you responded as you stepped into the house. "And what's with the shirt?"

This idiot actually had a Spider-Man t-shirt on.

"Excuse me? This is drip in the finest form," he defended, hopping onto his couch. "So anyway, the project or whatever. What're we gonna do for it?"

You sighed. "Well, unless I was actually invisible for all the class periods, it's obvious I wasn't paying much attention the last couple of days."

"Yeah I guess," he chuckled. "What was all that about anyway?," he asked, to which you simply shrugged. He squinted at you, but then rolled his eyes and then picked up the remote for the tv. "Oh well, you're better now, right?"

You winced, but you were glad Flash still wasn't looking your way. "Sure."

"Wanna take off your jacket? You're not outside anymore y'know."

And that's where the problem started.

You didn't know why, but you could look over knowing you were depressed. You'd easily come to terms with it. But it was the small things in normal conversations that hit you harder than anything else. Small little suggestions that you couldn't hide it all from everyone. Hell, you couldn't even take off a damn jacket like everyone else.

"I'm fine," you answered. "So... um, about that project?"

"Yeah," he said leaning forward. "You got the instruction papers or whatever?"

You gave him a look, confused. "I never picked them up. I thought you had the papers."

"I don't fucking pay attention in that boring ass class."

"So what was the purpose of me even coming here if we can't even do anything?," you snapped.

He just shrugged.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugged again.

Your jaw clenched. Cecilia was right. "Obnoxious dumbass..."

You turned to walk back out of the front door before turning back around. "Hey Flash?"

He looked at you and grunted in acknowledgment.

"Were you just crying before I came in or are you just high?"

"High," he said rather quickly. "Why? Are my eyes red?"

You nodded. "Yeah."

"Fuck," he mumbled. "Want some?"

"Nah I'm good-" But he was already gone down the long hallway of his home. "Flash?"

You stood there, waiting for about five minutes before deciding that he wasn't coming back. Great.

So now you could either go get him, leave, or just continue standing there awkwardly.

And due to your lack of better judgment, you did the most classic horror movie move and walked further into a house that you weren't familiar with to go look for a guy you barely knew. If I die, I die, you thought with a shrug.

Walking into the long hallway the first thing you noticed was the abundance of doors. You weren't a stalker, so you didn't bother to look into any, but you could've swore you saw a room full of spiderman pictures and newspapers through the crack of one of them. Fucking weird.

In an attempt not to succumb to your curiosity, you walked faster down the hall. You stopped in your tracks when you heard sniffles. Whimpering? Whatever noises someone makes when they're crying. Someone was crying, that's for sure. And you were also pretty sure Flash was the only one in the house.

'Walk away [Y/N]. This isn't your business.'

But of course you walked closer, and the sniffles got louder. Until you found yourself opening the door and coming face to face with a crying Flash on the floor in the middle of some gaming room.

"Shit!," he yelled, turning away and attempting to cover up his crying with obnoxiously fake coughing.

"Are you okay?," you asked.

"I'm high," he kept repeating in mumbles, desperately reaching for something. "I'm just high, okay? Fuck."

You watched as he continued to search for whatever he was making it seem like he looking for. You wanted to reach out and maybe say something, anything that would make him feel better. But you knew that probably wouldn't help.

After all, it never helped you.

"I'm just... really fucking high right now, alright?"

He seemed incredibly off, even with the squirrelly, rude way he was being earlier. Like he was just trying too hard at something.

You were at a loss for words. You knew it was wrong, but the only thing you could think of was, hm. Rich boy's actually got some issues.

When he finally turned around, his face was dry and he carried a bong in his hands, lighting it and practically shoving it into his mouth in a weak attempt to cover up his unsteady breathing.

"Thought you left," he said, staring at the floor.

Realizing you'd been standing at the doorframe awkwardly, you moved to sit on the floor, opposite to him. "Well, you kinda offered me some weed and then left, I think."

"I thought I heard you say no though."

"I did..." you gulped. "But..I still stayed though."

And now you sat here with Flash and his bong.

He sat back on the side of the chair, his back leaning against it as he blew out the smoke. "Wanna try?," he offered, holding the small object up to you. He didn't wait for you to respond before setting it up again for you and passing it.

Without a word, you took it and breathed the smoke in. You sucked it up and felt it fill your lungs before leaning back and blowing it out, letting out a small cough afterwards. "Thanks."

"Fuck, you're a pro," Flash chuckled.

You shook your head and shrugged. "No. Common sense just tells you how it works, I guess."

"I feel that."

You hummed in amusement.

And then suddenly it was quiet again.

You fucking hated silence.

Luckily, Flash was a talker. Or so you thought.

At school there wasn't a dull moment if he was there. But now, seeing him in his home, he was quiet as a mouse. Contemplative. Searching.

"Say something," you said, earning a confused look from the boy in front of you.

He squinted. "Say what? I don't even know you."

You rolled yours eyes, shrugging. "Look, whatever was going on before I came in here, it's not my business, man. I only said to fucking speak."

Flash groaned. "About what?"

"I dunno," you answered. "I just don't like the quiet. Say anything you want. Just... talk."

"Um.." he looked up at the ceiling. "I got some new shoes the other day." He pointed at the Jordan's on his feet. "My mother got it shipped in from where she's out on business in Bora Bora."

Something about the way he said it made you sure that she wasn't out "on business".

"My butler is out today cuz it's his niece's birthday. She'd be cute enough, if her nose wasn't so big. It's like the wicked witch of the west."

You scrunched up your nose, imagining a younger version of wicked witch minus the green skin.

"Umm, I dunno uh, chocolate chip cookies are better than sugar cookies?"

You snorted at that. Now he was just thinking of anything.

"And uhh, I'm having spaghetti tonight.. and- well I don't know what you really want dude I'm just kinda.. life is just too boring to always have something to say for every second of every day, [Y/N]!," he suddenly snapped.

"Woah dude, chill." You blew out another round of smoke and handed Flash the bong. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was asking for too much."

He held his hand over his forehead. "Nah you're fine," sighed. "It's just- you ask that cuz I talk alot at school right? Yeah that makes sense I guess. I-I'm sorry," he rushed out before going back to the small contraption.

You'd been snapped at alot in your life. Way too many to count. But from those experiences you gathered a small truth; if someone has snapped at you over the smallest thing, they probably have something else going on. Or most likely a couple of things, piled up and ready to blow.

And you could smell that on Flash from a mile away.

"Flash, what's your real name?"

He paused, lifting his mouth from the bong. "Flash is my real name," he lied before passing it back over to you.

"No it's not," you stated, picking up another bag and the lighter up beside you for the bong, no longer satisfied with the loss of flavor. "I don't pay that much attention but I know for a fact that's not your name."

He rolled his eyes, quickly becoming frustrated with the conversation. "Eugene."

"Nice," you said, contemplating your next move. "So.. what does Eugene feel right now? Not Flash, but Eugene."

He reached over each practically snatched the bong away from you.

"Eugene is feeling annoyed, and frankly aggravated because some girl he barely knows is asking too much of him."

"Hey I'm only asking for what you'll give me," you said, throwing your hands in your defense.

"Well what about you?," he accused. "You're always down in the dumps, staring at the wall, looking all depressed 24/7 so how about you start talking? I mean, are you fucking okay?"

"No," you answered blandly. "Not in the slightest. Your turn. What does Eugene feel, Flash? Is Eugene, quote, 'fucking okay'?"

Flash scoffed. "What're you trying to say, that I'm depressed?"

"I never said that."

"Oh fuck that, you implied it!"

"I didn't-"

"You don't fucking know me, [Y/N]," he spat out, throwing the bong on the floor, watching as you picked it up before the water spilt. "You don't fucking know what I'm going through everyday, so please don't be like everyone else and tell me what I am, okay?!"

Were you being rude prying into his life? Totally.

Had you reached the level of nonchalantness with your and practically anybody else's wellbeing that you really couldn't possibly bring yourself to care? Yes.

And was Flash finally cracking? Completely.

"Flash is fake. And obnoxious. And rude," you deadpanned. "I wanna meet Eugene. See how he's doing."

Flash scoffed, looking for a comeback. You could see the expressions on his face flickering like random. Annoyance. Sadness. Want.

You were no psychologist but anyone with a brain could see what he was going through.

The two of you sat in silence again. But you didn't really mind it this time. You were waiting. Even without actually speaking, Flash was telling you everything about him.

Takes one to know one.

"Eugene's aggravated," he finally said, his eyes becoming watery. "Eugene's fucking angry all the time because people only seem to want Flash." He gave you a bitter smirk before averting his eyes to the ground. But you let him. If that's what was easiest for him, then whatever.

"And people assume things about Eugene all the damn time so eventually he decided -what the hell- he'll just give em what they want. And Eugene's fucking pissed because he knows for a fact that if he were to just disappear, no one would fucking care. His old man would just put him in the ground and everyone would be back to normal before fucking dinner." His breath was heavy and you could see mocha skin begin to turn a dark red. "And most of all he's pissed because he's been able to hide for so long and some girl just strolls in and figures him out."

And now here you were just there with Eugene and his bong.

You'd lost count of how much you'd smoked, and you knew he did too. But it didn't matter.

Nothing did anymore.

Not the pressure from your parents. Not the endless cycle of running through all the motions without actually taking anything in. Not even the stupid project that was worth half your grade that'd brought the two of you together in the first place.

Life was full of nothing just in millions of various forms.

Things dressed up and decorated to seem all fancy and important but in the grand scheme of things were just was worthless as you were.

You looked at Flash's home and all you saw was fancy nothing. Wealthy nothing. And you looked at his clothes and all you could possibly see was nothing.

And looking at Flash, you saw a nothing that was attempting to cover up something.

But looking at Eugene, you saw something.

Sadness. Neglect. Pain.

He was completely naked to you.

"You should probably stop," he mumbled, finally opening his eyes and sitting up a bit. "You're looking at me all weird." He reached for the bong, laying it aside once he grabbed it.

"Is that a bad thing?," you asked.

"No," he responded with a small shrug. "...just scares me is all."

You smirked. The only resemblance of a smile you'd been able to make in a long while. "And how do I, of all people, scare you, Eugene?"

You could see his jaw clench. Could see him debating with himself. Even relaxed from the weed, his eyes still darted around the room, and he was shaking his head the tiniest bit. Finally he looked back at you.

"Because -fucking somehow.. you see me-" a tear rolled down his face. "You actually see me. Not Flash... You see Eugene."

His mother's words rang through his ears like a cautionary tale. Real men don't cry. Don't be weak, like your father...

But he wanted to be. So badly he wanted, just for one moment, to be weak and to be able to fall into someone's arms and not act like he was always okay on his own. To not act like he didn't desperately yearn for someone's compassion. Someone's trust.

Flash was fun. Flash was the cool, funny side character in everyone's story. Flash was the picture perfect of everything he wanted to be.

"-And Eugene's a mess," he let out in a small, quiet sob, his expression not moving, though the tears streamed down his face. "I'm just high... that's why I'm saying all this crap. I'm just being dumb and high. Forget all this. I never said anything okay?"

You wouldn't see him break. Not some girl he just met...

Regardless of how he already felt about you.

He slowly looked back up at your face, fully expecting to see pity or disgust. Instead, your face remained neutral like his, and you were crying too.

"I don't think you're a mess Eugene." You sat up straighter, moved a little closer. "Just hurt."

He gave a bitter chuckle. "Isn't basically everybody?"

You shook your head slightly. "No...at least I don't think so. Everyone goes through something- and then there are those people that, in some sick way, want to be hurting.. but with people like us.." You found yourself grabbing his hand, not even thinking for what reason. You just did. "With us.. it's real. And not some temporary problem," you whispered. "It won't ever stop."

Eugene looked back at you again and it was over for him. He felt small. He felt naked. He felt fucking pure.

And then it happened.

You went in for a hug and he went in for a kiss.

But he made it first... and you didn't push him away.

Feeling his lips on yours.. wasn't bad. It surprised you at first, but ultimately it was pleasant.

He sighed against your lips and you could taste the smoke in between the two of you. You hadn't had much experience with guys before. Practically nonexistent if you were being honest, but that didn't matter. Eugene pressed his kiss firmer on yours, and you began to reciprocate his movements.

He held the side of your head lightly as he pulled away, his face growing further apart from yours the slightest bit. He rubbed his nose against yours. You both closing your eyes.

"Stay here with me," he pleaded softly, his breathing slightly erratic. "I-i won't try anything, I swear. I just..." He sniffed and used his shoulder to wipe away at some of the tears on his cheek. "You really see me. A-and I see you, y'know? And we're just-"

You nodded, taking your hand to run through his hair. "Okay," you whispered. "I'll stay."

A small smile started to break through his tears. "Thank you," he mumbled against your cheek before planting a soft kiss onto it.

Your mind was blank. You couldn't think of more than one thing at a time. But you knew one thing; you wanted to be there. That much you were sure of. You still weren't happy. You weren't safe. Just content with this idea of change.

For once, you weren't overly sure of what you were doing. It wasn't routine.

For once, you felt like something was different.

----------Back on the other side of town-----------

You weren't home.

Peter had finished his patrol, swung to your apartment, and you were nowhere to be found.

"No. N-no please don't do this," he pleaded to himself. "Be in the bathroom. Please just be somewhere. Come on, get in here."

He'd already looked through every window available and he could only hope you were in some inside room. Your bed was completely untouched.

"I should've reached out to you. Fuck! I should've done something. Just please be alive..."

He waited anxiously to see if you'd show, even sending a drone to Cecilia's address to see if you were there in the meantime. "I-I'm so sorry I- just please! Be at a friend's house! Something!"

He didn't even realize how much he was shaking. How much your life was in his hands. If you were dead, he'd never forgive himself.

"She's not at the Gulliver residence, Peter. Are there any other places you'd like for me to check?," E.D.I.T.H asked.

"She's somewhere!," he yelled out. "It's one in the morning on a school night. Find her! Please...."

He looked back toward the window. After while he didn't even know how much time had passed. He was just staring. Waiting for you to walk through that door. And when you never came he could only hope that you'd be at school.

"I'll help you," he whimpered. "Just..please. Please just stay alive long enough for me to try."

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

Lmao don't worry y/n won't end up with Flash and this certainly won't end up being a love triangle

Taglist - @eridanuswave, @imahardcase, @jules-and-gemss, @yetchann, @captainamericasdaughter, @starlight-starks, @everydaymj, @rubberducky-jrr, @chiaramrvl, @dreamofaprilsblog, @hello--zuko-here, @spidey-mads, @cuddlefishpeter

[noona-clock]

Now or Never - Part 6

Genre: College!AU

Pairing: Jae x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: Emotional angst, mentions of death

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 | Words: 2,747

Well.

It had certainly been an interesting couple of days.

You had (finally) broken up with your boyfriend, so you were now officially single. But you also weren’t sure if you still had a best friend because the last time you’d seen him, he had been incredibly upset. Like, you’d never seen him that upset.

And... he had also told you that he was in love with you.

But then your ex-boyfriend had told you that you were in love with him. Him being Jae, your best friend.

So, you really had no idea what was going to happen.

At this point, you honestly didn’t know what to say to him! Yes, you had broken up with Kevin, but now that you knew romantic feelings were involved -- at least, on his part -- you were nervous that things wouldn’t be the same between you two. Would he even want to talk to you after blurting out his confession like that? Would he be embarrassed? Did he still actually have feelings for you or had the past few days been enough to make him realize you were not the kind of person he should be in love with?

Thankfully, the start of classes for the new semester was a good distraction for your mess of a life. You busied yourself by memorizing your new schedule, renting your textbooks, mapping out your routes between classes.

But then you sat down in your first class of the semester, a psychology class, and your professor introduced himself.

Dr. Little.

Obviously, your first instinct was to text Jae and say “Wow when did you become a doctor” because you liked to tease him about looking like Chicken Little and he hated it but he always still smiled at you when you called him that.

God, you missed him. You missed him so much that you weren’t even sure what to do about it. Because if you told him you missed him, would that give him false hope that you returned his feelings?

...But what if you did return his feelings?

Why weren’t you sure about this?! Wasn’t it supposed to be kind of simple?! You either liked a guy or you didn’t?!

So, why was it so difficult with Jae?!

And who were you supposed to talk to about it?! You always talked to Jae about this kind of stuff, but --

Oh, god. Oh, no. You had talked to him about your love life for all these years. Had he been suffering through that this whole time?!

Now you felt even worse than you already did. And, frankly, even more confused.

Jae already wasn’t a huge fan of school. But this semester? Yeah, he would rather be anywhere else doing anything else.

He still couldn’t believe he had just blurted out his feelings like that.

He had gone over to your apartment hoping -- praying -- that you had broken up with Kevin and had invited him over to tell him that. So, when he’d asked you first thing and you’d answered with ‘No,’ something in him had just snapped.

He had completely lost his temper, and for probably the first time in your entire friendship, he had been legitimately angry at you. He had been angry and frustrated and fed up, and when he’d heard you say no one would love you like Kevin did, he just couldn’t take it anymore.

And the next thing he knew, he was screaming the words ‘I love you.’ To you. And then you had thought he’d meant as a friend, so he’d just straight out corrected you and confessed and... then he’d left.

Sometimes, he had trouble believing that had actually happened.

He hadn’t heard from you since, and he hadn’t tried contacting you, so...

I guess... the two of you were over?

The most logical step to take next would be to try and get over you. There was absolutely no chance of starting a romantic relationship now, so the time to rid himself of his feelings for you was really now or never.

And if you weren’t going to talk to him again, he didn’t want it to be never. He didn’t want to live the rest of his life being in love with you if he was just never going to see you again. That sounded like torture.

The only problem was... he wasn’t sure if he could.

He’d been in love with you for over three years. How does one just... not be in love after that long? And he still loved you as a person, as a friend! He was losing not only the girl he was in love with but his best friend, too! His video game, deep conversation, late-night Taco Bell partner-in-crime!

Yes, he was tired of the unrequited love. But he wasn’t tired of the best friendship!

What if... he just sent you a quick text?

NO.

No, he wasn’t that weak. If you wanted to still be friends with him, you would have to be the one to contact him first.

(As long as you’d broken up with Kevin, of course.)

Thankfully, he was able to distract himself a bit more when classes started back up, but not as much as he wanted to. Like I said, he didn’t like school to begin with; having you by his side to help him study had made things worlds better, so now that he didn’t even have that, it was... It was just miserable.

After a full week of classes, Jae had simply had enough. He was barely paying attention to his professors, he had already skipped a few classes, and he was still constantly thinking about you.

It was clearly time for a change.

The first week of classes was probably -- no, definitely -- the hardest week you’d had in a long, long time.

Not including the Dr. Little/Chicken Little thing, there had been approximately two-hundred and sixteen times when you’d wanted to text Jae about something -- something funny you’d seen or a random thought you’d had. And that had just been during the first two days. You’d stopped counting on day three.

Clearly, this was not working. You had been trying to give Jae space, and you’d been trying to figure out what, if anything, was going on in your heart as it pertained to him... but you could barely focus on anything because you just missed him too damn much!

You hadn’t ever really thought about it before now, but Jae had become one of the biggest parts of your life over the last three and a half years. Not only that, he’d become one of the best parts of your life. And not having him in it?

It was slowly killing you.

You really just wanted to know how he was doing. Was he sleeping? Eating? Going to class?

On Friday afternoon after your economics class let out, you decided that enough was enough. You had to text him. If he didn’t feel like talking to you, then fine. But you wouldn’t know unless you tried.

Once you got to the bus stop in front of the math building, you fished your phone out of your backpack and brought it up to your face so you could unlock it and bring up your messages.

But a notification on the screen caught your eye.

It was from your school’s app. Your brow furrowed because they only sent out alerts when there was some sort of emergency.

Quickly, you scanned the notification... and your heart stopped.

There had been a fire -- there was a fire -- in one of the dorms.

Jae’s dorm.

Oh, my god. It -- it couldn’t be.

You blinked, hoping maybe you had read the notification wrong. But, no. That was definitely the name of Jae’s dorm, and that was definitely the word ‘fire.’

Your heart began to pound, and your stomach immediately filled up with knots and butterflies.

You didn’t know Jae’s class schedule this semester. It was Friday afternoon, so there was a good possibility he had one right now, but what if he didn’t?! What if he had decided to only take classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays so he could have Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays free for video games?! He’d done it once during your second year, so it wasn’t entirely unlikely!

What if he was in his dorm right now? What if the fire had started in the room right next door to him?! Or above him? Or below him?

Could he be engulfed in flames right now?

If he was -- if you never got the chance to see him again -- the last memory he would have of you would be the fight you’d had in your apartment. The last memory he would have of you would be a bad one.

And you would never get to tell him --

You almost gasped because the possibility of losing Jae struck such a deep, earnest fear in you. You had always said “What would I do without you?” but you’d never thought it could actually happen.

And now that it could, you had never felt such true panic in your life.

Without letting one more second pass, you bolted from the bus stop, heading over in the general direction of Jae’s dorm. As you ran, you managed to find Jae’s contact and press on it, calling him.

“Please pick up, please pick up,” you murmured under your breath. He had to pick up. He had to not be in his dorm right now.

When you heard his voicemail, you almost dropped your phone. The sound of your feet pounding on the sidewalk muffled the curse you let out, and even though your eyes were now beginning to fill with tears of panic, you kept running.

You ran until you saw the smoke billowing out from the dorm, and then you ran even harder.

Oh, god, Jae hadn’t answered his phone. What if all your fears were actually coming true? What if Jae had been in his room asleep? What if he hadn’t gotten out in time? What if he --

No, you couldn’t think like that.

By the time you reached the dorm, your heart was practically beating out of your ribcage and you were gasping for breath from having run for so long. Firetrucks were surrounding the building, and you stumbled over to a fireman who was obviously in charge of crowd control and not putting the fire out.

“Excuse me,” you choked out, not even in the right frame of mind to be embarrassed by just how out-of-breath you were.

The fireman put his hands on your shoulders and said, “Okay, calm down, Miss. Breathe. What can I help you with?”

“My -- friend,” you told him. “He’s -- his dorm -- he’s not answering --”

Before you could get any more words out, you heard someone call out your name.

But... not just any someone.

Your brow furrowed deeply and you whipped your head around, following the source of the voice.

And when your gaze landed on Jae, you truly almost fainted.

“Y/N,” he called out again, looking extremely concerned and confused at the same time.

You felt the fireman loosen his grip on your shoulders, and you immediately strode over toward Jae -- who, you now noticed, had dark hair and wasn’t wearing his glasses, but that wasn’t too important right now.

The tears which had filled your eyes just a minute ago now spilled over onto your cheeks, and you had to swallow down a rather large lump of emotion in your throat.

“Oh my god,” you murmured as you approached him, and as soon as you got close enough, you slid your arms around his neck and pulled him as close to you as he could get. “I thought -- I called you, and you didn’t answer --”

You were sobbing now, though it was a mixture of relief and terror by now. You felt his arms circle your waist, and he held you more tightly than he ever had before -- more tightly than anyone ever had before.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I was in class, my phone was on silent.”

You simply let yourself cry, letting out all of the emotions you’d been feeling the past week as you hugged Jae.

“It’s all right,” he said softly, one hand clutching your jacket at the small of your back and the other wedged underneath your backpack. “I’m fine. I’m right here.”

Once you were confident enough that you could speak without sounding completely unintelligible, you managed to blubber out, “I was so scared. I thought I might never see you again, and I --”

Jae simply held you tighter, shushing you. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Shut up!” you cried, though you did have to hold back a watery laugh. “That’s not funny.”

“Then why are you laughing?” he mumbled in your ear.

“I’m not.”

“You did. I heard you.”

You pulled away, stepping back so you could look at him, though you only moved your arms enough so you could hold his face in your hands.

His... super adorable yet incredibly handsome face.

“Damn, Y/N,” he muttered, lifting up one hand and brushing your tears away with his knuckle. “Why are you crying so much over me? I can’t be worth that many tears.”

You heard the teasing tone in his voice, so a hidden smile tugged at your lips, but you still scolded him for talking like that. “Be quiet, yes, you are.”

Jae’s lips pulled into a smile, and your breath caught in your throat.

“Are you done with classes?” you whispered.

Jae nodded once, and you reluctantly let your hands fall from his face.

“Come back to my place?” you asked a bit timidly. “Please. I... don’t want to leave you just yet.”

You hadn’t spoken to him for a week, and then you thought he’d literally died in a fire, and then he’d appeared out of nowhere, so you were experiencing a really crazy slew of emotions, and you just... you wanted to be with him. You wanted to reassure yourself that he was alive and he was with you.

And... also... you had some things you wanted to talk about.

After thinking you might have lost him forever, a few of the thoughts you hadn’t been able to figure out had become pretty clear, and...

You just had some things you wanted to talk about.

“Yeah,” Jae murmured, tipping his chin in a tiny nod.

You could see in his eyes that he was nervous, so you stood on your toes and slid your arms around his neck again.

“I missed you,” you said softly, closing your eyes and reveling in the comfort and security of his embrace.

You felt Jae take a deep breath, and he let it out slowly before he muttered, “I missed you, too,” in your ear.

You bit the inside of your cheek so you wouldn’t smile like a complete idiot, and you waited just a few more moments before pulling away again.

“Are we gonna go, or are you gonna hug me again?” Jae asked with just the slightest hint of a smirk on his lips.

“I can hug you again,” you replied with a sniffly chuckle because you knew Jae wasn’t the most affectionate of guys. You could probably count on two hands the number of times you’d hugged him, and you could definitely count on one hand the number of times he had hugged you - the night when he’d picked you up after the party incident being one of them.

“Nah, let’s go,” he said, putting a hand on your arm and forcing you in the direction of your apartment complex.

Just as you always did, you slid your arm through his, even briefly leaning your head on his shoulder as you began to walk back to your place. Jae kept his hands in his pockets and his gaze focused either on the ground or directly in front of him, and neither of you said a word.

You would pay every cent you had to be able to know what was going on inside Jae’s head right now. You knew what was going on in yours, and if he was thinking the same thing you were thinking...

Things were about to change. Possibly forever.

Part 7