#make fun of my way of living if you want but thanks to me scrounging and saving money like that - im able to help you and anyone else out

[thunderboltage]

[blakelysco-pilot]

This Is Always

From the Love Letter Series

Robert “Rosie” Rosenthal x Josephine Harris (OFC)

The holidays are usually a time to be spent together, cold noses warmed by the fire, and joyful cheers as the New Year approaches. This year, Rosie is struggling with being away from Jo, and acknowledging the future that he dreams of sharing with her. A heart to heart with Crosby helps put things into perspective for both of them.

Read Part 3 Here Follow along with the Love Letters Playlist

January 1944

My Dearest Jo,

Happy New Year, honey pie! It’s just after midnight here, and though I wanted to be the first person to wish you a Happy New Year, I know that by the time you get this, it will be after the fact. I guess by writing this now, while it’s still ‘43 back home, I’m letting myself be greedy in being the first to send you those wishes. I hope you’re doing something fun tonight, and getting all dolled up to paint the town red. Your last letter came just after Christmas, but I would be remiss if I didn’t tell you just how happy it made me to hear that you were still doing all of your usual Christmas favorites, even if I’m not home to carry all your shopping bags back to Brooklyn after a full day in the city. Believe me, I even miss doing that, no matter how heavy some of them are. 

I got Ma’s last letter just a few days before yours arrived, and she mentioned that you went by the house to celebrate Hanukkah with her and Jeanie. I know that made her really happy, and I can’t thank you enough for keeping an extra eye on both of them for me while I’m stuck over here. My sister would argue that she doesn’t need anyone keeping an eye on her, but I’m sure she appreciates your company, and will rub it in my face after the fact that she got to spend so much time with you. That’s what little sisters do, isn’t it? 

We had a small thing in the Officers Club for the holidays; nothing too fancy, but there was music, and some good liquor that someone managed to scrounge up for the occasion. The Red Cross Clubmobile girls pulled some resources and, even with rationing, managed to bake a few cookies for us. They were good, but they couldn't hold a candle to yours. 

I have never wanted one of your Christmas cookies more than after reading your letter, and to know that Jean Crosby took over as the official taste tester this year; oh it broke my heart darling. But, I’m glad to know that you two girls are keeping each other company, and I know that Croz is happy knowing that she’s not alone. I do hope you two aren’t causing too much trouble while we’re away. Knowing you the way that I do, I know that’s a bit of a pipe dream, but one of the reasons I adore you the way that I do. 

At the risk of sounding melancholy, I’ve spent most of today wishing I could take you dancing; spin you around until we’re both dizzy, until finally we can ring in the new year with champagne. Crowded on the dance floor at Minton’s, wrapped up in each other. Maybe it’s bold of me to ask, or maybe it’s the whiskey, but would you have allowed me a midnight kiss, Jo? I can’t picture kissing anyone else as the clock strikes twelve, nor do I want to, on this holiday or any other day. I hope that by next year, we'll be able to spend the evening together, and not have to send holiday wishes in letters that take too long to get there. 

I dream of you every night, sweetheart, and every night these sweet dreams end with a kiss before I’m pulled back to reality. I’ve been dreaming of the future, and if the real thing is anything like my dreams, I can’t wait for those days to begin. I wonder,do you dream of those days too? Of building a home together, a life that’s just ours. Living in the city, maybe somewhere near Harry and Jean. We could go to the pictures on Friday nights, and sleep in on Saturday’s, warm under the blankets until we peel ourselves from the sheets only because we need to make coffee. I’d spin you around the kitchen while we made breakfast, a record on the Victrola, the two of us tangled together while the eggs burned. The more I think about it, the more it all sounds like a dream come true. 

Maybe it is the whiskey talking, but it’s getting late here. Or early depending on how you look at it, and even though we aren’t flying tomorrow, I’m sure the rest of the fellas will be returning from the Officers Club soon enough. I’ll be dreaming of you tonight, sweetheart, and counting the days until we’re together again. 

Sending you millions of hugs and kisses, and all of my love. 

Yours for always

Robbie

Rosie took a deep breath, and without giving himself a chance to second guess anything in his letter, folded it up and slid it inside the envelope. He’d address it in the morning and drop it off at APO so that it went out with the next mail call; tonight it would remain on the nightstand next to his bed, with Jo’s photo. He was still in his uniform, not having bothered changing after he returned to the Officer’s hut, and was about to take advantage of the empty shower stall, when the door swung open and Harry walked in.

“Thought I’d find you in here.” Harry spoke, hand coming up to loosen his tie. 

“Yea, I uh, wanted to get a letter out to Jo,” Rosie signed, dragging his hand down his face. ‘Or at the very least, written.”

“It’s rough around the holidays isn’t it.” It wasn’t a question. Harry knew as well as he did, and he knew his friend was giving him an opening to get his feelings off his chest. 

“Probably the most difficult part of all this. We’ve spent every Christmas and Hanukkah together since we met.”

“She celebrates Hanukkah with you and your mom?”

“Jo is the best gift giver in our family, according to my sister.” Rosie grinned. 

“Sounds like your sister will be the disappointed one if you don’t put a ring on Jo’s finger when we get home.” Harry chuckled, dropping down onto his own bed, across from Rosie’s.

“She’d have to fight my Ma for the top spot, if I don’t marry Jo.” 

The two shared a quiet moment  as their thoughts drifted to a place far from England. Far from flak and casualties and torn fuselages. No thoughts of missing friends, mission counts or that damned red light never blinking off. 

Rosie knew that Harry understood better than anyone; how it felt to be so devoted to someone, and yet, he felt compelled to ask the one question that, if he had to wager, everyone asks at some point. 

“How’d you know Jean was the one?” He asked after a moment, gaze turned upward to meet that of his friend. 

“She wanted nothing to do with me when we met,” Harry balked so loudly that it seemed to echo off the walls of the Nissen Hut. “But I knew. I didn’t want to spend another day without her.”

“Just like that, huh?”

“Oh yeah, you just know,” Harry nodded. “When did you know Jo was the one? And don’t tell me you didn’t…”

“Let’s just say I should have opened my mouth a long time ago.”

“Well, better late than never.”

“What if I was too late, Croz?”

Harry stood from his bed, moving around the front to lean himself against the footboard. With a determined gaze, he made sure he had Rosie’s full attention before saying what was on his mind. 

“You can’t think like that. You need to believe you’re going home to her, that you two will have a life after all this.”

“God, I hope so.”

“I don’t know Jo as well as you do,” He started. “I only know what Jean tells me in her letters, but it sounds to me like she’s really something. And I’m not just saying that because she went out of her way to befriend my wife.”

“I told her I want a life with her, a future, our own place, Saturday mornings in bed, lazy days…”

“You want the dream.” Harry nodded in understanding. 

“Told her maybe we’d move to the city, leave Brooklyn, get a place near you and Jean.”

“Sounds like we’ll be in trouble if that happens, Jo and Jean a stone's throw away from each other?”

“I think the two of us are going to have our hands full when we get home, Croz.”

“I bet they’re saying the same thing about us,” Harry laughed. “And I wouldn’t blame Jean. I’ve been a real handful as of late.”

“Oh yea, you’re causing lots of trouble all the way over here.” Rosie chuckled, propping his legs up on the bed, feet hanging off the edge so as to not dirty the sheets. He didn’t miss the slight look of distress that flashed across his friend's face. 

He regarded him carefully; he looked like he had something on the tip of his tongue. His face looked worried, like he had something weighing him down exponentially, and Rosie would allow his friend the moment if he needed it. After all, it was the holiday’s and they were the best source of camaraderie that they had; friends should be there for each other. No one understood that better than he did. 

“No, I’ve been a handful…” Harry finally continued. 

“Croz?”

“Remember after Munster? When Harding sent me to Oxford?”

“Yea…”

“They double you up when you’re at those conferences, and my roommate, she-”

“Ah jeez, Croz…”

Harry sighed, dropping his head, too ashamed to look his friend in the eye. The moment had turned in the blink of an eye, and he wasn’t sure how to handle it, or get his friend through it. But he’d be damned if he didn’t try. 

“I don’t know how to tell Jean.”

“Is this why you kept disappearing up to London? To see her?”

“How do I tell my wife that I slept with another woman?”

“You just do, Croz.”

“That’s the worst possible thing to write in a letter. ‘Honey, I miss you terribly, by the way…’”

“Alright, I see your point. But you need to tell her.”

“This fucking war,” Harry sighed. “I swear, it peels the humanity right from your bones.”

“Then you fight it.”

“More than we already have? More than what we’ve given and lost?”

Rosie knew he was referring to Bubbles, and for a moment he let his mind wander to Nash, and that first mission to Bremen. It would be easy to fold; to pack it up and let the fight take from you more and more. But he would be damned if he’d let it take more from him, and if he had to fight a little extra to make sure it didn’t take any more from his friend, he’d do that too. 

“You’re not fighting it alone, Croz.”

“Feels like it most of the time.”

“And you’re fighting for something back home, even if you feel like you don’t deserve it at the moment.”

“I don't deserve her.” 

“Yea, you do. And you’ll tell her everything, whether you write it, or tell her when we get home. And Jo and I will be there for you both.”

Harry looked like he was about to respond when the door to the Officers Hut swung open. He turned, half expecting a replacement officer, but was surprised to see Blakely and Douglass, the former with a cigarette tucked behind his ear, and Douglass swinging a bottle of something in his left hand. 

“Nightcap, fellas?” Douglass lifted the bottle, and Rosie could just make out the label. Vat 69. 

“Where the hell did you get that, Dougie?” Harry’s eyes went wide at the familiar label from back home. A very expensive label. 

“Been saving it, so come on, let’s have a drink.”

“No, seriously, who’d you steal that from?” Rosie asked, watching as Blakely gathered four of the glasses the boys kept on their side tables for brushing their teeth. 

“I won it in a bet, if you must know.” Douglass grinned, pulling the wax seal from the neck of the bottle before pulling the cork out.

“The details are not of importance,” Blakely chimed in, swatting Rosie’s legs off the bed to take up the space next to him. “What is important is that we’re here, and alive, so stop asking questions and have a drink would ya?”

Douglass poured for the four of them, dropping himself down on the bed next to Rosie’s, while waiting for Harry to join them. 

“Any day now, Croz…” he groaned, glass between two fingers as he held it out for the navigator. “It’ll be ‘45 by the time you move.”

“Dougie… fuck off.” Harry stood with a laugh, brushing off his slacks before snatching the glass and taking the seat next to him. “And anyway, we’d all better be home by ‘45.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Blakely nodded, holding his glass up to cheers his friends, the only ones left that weren’t replacement crews, or trapped somewhere in the Stalag. 

The foursome sat silently as they sipped their prize whiskey, thoughts turned presumably to home and memories of Christmas and New Years’ spent with people they loved and missed. 

“Alright, what would you be doing if you were home right now?” Ev broke the silence, leaning his elbows on his knees, gaze landing on Harry. 

“His wife, dumbass.” Douglass chuckled. 

“Woah hey, none of that.” Rosie looked between the two, the rules immediately being put into place without having to say them. 

They didn’t talk like that, but he assumed it had been a bit too much whiskey already for Douglass, and with there no mission on the horizon for tomorrow, their guards were all down a bit. 

“Right, right, sorry Croz,” Douglass held his hands up in apology. “For real, what would you and Jean be doing if you were home?”

“We’d go out for dinner, but I think we’d probably be home for the bells,” he closed his eyes wistfully, and Rosie knew his friend was simply hoping that he’d be able to do that next year. “Dance in the living room, and yea, off to bed.”

Blakely nodded, reaching across to drop his hand to Crosby’s knee in a gesture of good faith, that he felt for him in a way, and was hoping he’d get that moment sooner rather than later. 

“What about you?” Ev turned to his right, finding Rosie sitting quietly. 

“What about me?” Rosie brought the glass to his lips, taking a small sip and letting the taste linger on his tongue a moment. 

“Would you and Josephine be out on the town?” Douglass asked, gesturing to the photo on Rosie’s side table. 

“Oh yea, we’d be at Minton’s, dancing until they kicked us out I’m sure.” Rosie laughed. 

“Together at the club then?”

“Every year we go dancing on New Years,” Rosie started. “Christmas and Hanukkah are for family, New Years is for friends.”

“She’s more than a friend.” Harry looked at him pointedly. 

“She is, and a fella can dream that she’ll say yes when I get home.”

Blakely, who had been pulling the cigarette from behind his ear to light it, fumbled, dropping it to the ground at Rosie’s confession. 

“You got a ring?!”

“No, but, that’s my second order of business once I’m back stateside.”

“And the first?”

“To kiss the hell out of her.” Rosie confessed. 

“Good man.” Blakely slapped him on the shoulder, a smile on his face. 

It was absolutely the whiskey talking this time, but he was among friends. The trust was insurmountable. Between the confessions that had taken place before Ev and Dougie had joined them, and the warmth flowing through his veins, Rosie lifted the glass to his lips to drain it, before standing from his place on the bed. Swiping the envelope from earlier, and a clean sheet of paper from the table, he glanced at his friends with a grin, and offered a two fingered salute. 

“Gentlemen, I’ll be back.”

“Where are you going! We still have more whiskey!” Douglass hollered after him. 

“Save it for another occasion!” Rosie called back as he pushed through the doors and out into the chilly January air. 

He walked until he found a spot under one of the lamp posts, the bench undoubtedly cold as he sat down, but he wouldn’t be out here for long. Just enough time, and privacy, to get the thoughts swarming around in his head out on the page before he lost his nerve. 

Pulling his pen from his breast pocket, he carefully let the paper rest on his thigh before he began scrawling his extra note. 

Hi Sweetheart, 

I know this is coming with no context but, I want you to know how much I adore you. I know I’ve said it in different ways, and a few times by now, but, I mean it. Truly, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m sorry it took me so long to say it. And to say it from thousands of miles away, with a war on no less. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to hit me once I’m back home. 

Just know that I’ll always, always, carry your heart with the most careful of hands. I’ll keep you safe, and treasure every moment we have together. Anything you want, it’s yours, Jo. A quiet life together, or a herd of children that jump on the bed on Sunday mornings. I’ll make sure you have it honey. 

Just know, I’m yours for however long you’ll have me, Josephine. I’m hoping for forever, but that’s a question for another day. 

I love you,

Robbie 

Read part 5 Here

A/N: Thanks for reading! This series will continue for Rosie & Jo, so if you enjoyed this, please like, comment, reblog- whichever is your poison. Feedback is always welcome & my ask box is always open. If you want to be added to my tag list, or removed, let me know!

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[aproxm]

you're a big inspiration of mine. if anything ever happened to my body to where i lost the current capacity to draw like i do now (pretty much my only creative outlet), i know from your experience that it would be a tough road to climb back towards creating but it's very much doable, and i would find success like you have if i put in the dedication and work. please keep making things forever.

;_;

i hate sounding like a baby but life is so difficult, even insulated within a first world nation, even with jobs with downtime... this ask was sent in oct 2023 and between then and now i almost went homeless and had my ebt frozen for a spell there. i ended up working with a local org and it took a dozen calls and appointments and drives and deadlines but i did end up getting put in a cool new place and they helped with the initial payments and i even got free utilities now hahaha. i also spent much of this time with mind wracked over trying to get a second job with my first on hiatus--i'm working both now, never had 2 jobs at the same time before but rent's gotta get paid. where was i going with this? life is really difficult. you could say me dealing with my fibro diagnosis, losing my ability temporarily to draw, game, write, work, etc was a mountain with first a slope way downwards, but i got over it (i mean im still disabled but at least i can do things again with minimal pain lol).

but then having my roommate bounce and being faced with wholly supporting myself again was a second mountain, and facing it from the bottom was particularly excruciating. nothing pumps the brakes on managing stress like scrounging the floor of Maslow's pyramid. but i'm past that now, too, and just like with my first climb it required help from several sources before i could become self sufficient again. but i did do it. so if you or a reader ever faces a situation like that, it's not impossible to survive. like you said, dedication and work, but also reaching out, and waiting. it can be a lot of agonizing waiting... and i advise diversifying your creative outlets on that note. it helps me to bounce around different hobbies hahaha. i lost where i was going with this again

i'm still drawing, still making things and trying. i dont think 'success' is quite where i am... i write a chapter a week for 'DWARF IN A HOLE' and i'm up to like 38, and i revise the hell out of it, and i hope that goes somewhere. im working on visual novels plural, revising 'GYNOGENESIS' so the script is less... well it's certainly the result of an unedited 16 day marathon lol. 'STUDIO HOOP' has gained new members for its next project and it's the director's dream so i'm going to do my best to not let her down. i practice DJing often and try to throw fun live shows on twitch but my headset and speakers both fell dead so... well anyway i work on my website 'WWW.APROXM.COM' when i find time and it has a lot of new pages and is a cool archival for very embarrassing past work. but it's cool to see a distance crossed from that--that's the intention anyway. and drawing, i'm still drawing, actually mostly with dollar store ink pens these days--ease of access at work. really just abstract shapes and simple crap like that. let's finish this ask out on some samples

i'll set up a trad blog at some point cuz i dont really want to shit this one up with these--there's dozens, seriously. ok well anyway thanks for the ask and the opportunity to type some things. i'm going for a walk

[dulcetpill]

hiya! for the beyond evil ask thing 🎵

Thank youuu for interacting, you lovely person with a very good name<3

🎵 What five songs do you associate with Beyond Evil?

 I realized I don’t have that many song associations in general, especially if not counting those that are caused by fandom video edits. Quite often, listening to a song and hearing an exceptionally good line, I get a moment of association (“oooh, this is so jwds-core!!”), but the song as a whole doesn’t make me think about Beyond Evil (or any other media for that matter). But I’ll try to scrounge up some good ones and not cheat with easy fandom-edit picks :P

Дарья Виардо — Возвращайся домой Daria Viardo — Come Back Home

A gentle, sorrowful song in Russian about dealing with loss, pointlessly hoping that your loved one will come back home just like usual, as if returning from a very long walk.

“But I wait on the porch I’m covered in mold But I wait on the porch In the hope of saying “hello” once more.”

It’s so Dongsik-about-Yuyeon… I even contemplated making an edit with this song, but I don’t have the will to cut all of the appropriate footage for it, and not many people would be able to appreciate it fully anyway. But the song is still wonderful. A real tearjerker.

“And even if I know There won’t be a miraculous day The sky won’t give you back And the door lock won’t click… You won’t come back home Won’t come back home You’ll never come back home. But I still feel like…”

Nothing But Thieves — Your Blood

Listen. LISTEN. Your Blood is basically Han Juwon (Daddy Issues Edition): The Song.

“You know it's your blood that I bleed Tell me that there's some way that I'll get through the night. I carry your moral disease I don't wanna be something I'm not to stay alive.”

I literally spent a whole night writing a cheesy twitter thread about Juwon while listening to nothing but this song, even though it’s much more somber than the feeling I was trying to invoke. Because it’s just. So. Juwon. Ugh. Listening to this makes me really want to play some golf. At night. In the rain. You know the feeling.

“Oh no, there's no escape No matter how I try Now I'm stuck on one day For the rest of my life.”

Stephen Sondheim Company OST — Being Alive (by Raúl Esparza)

And this version. THE jwds song, I'm not joking. From Juwon’s POV, because he’s such a miserable flop (I love him so much).

“Someone to hold you too close Someone to hurt you too deep Someone to sit in your chair To ruin your sleep Someone to need you too much Someone to know you too well Someone to pull you up short To put you through hell.”

Even trying to quote it feels silly, because every single line is just IT. Such a powerful, beautiful song, really.

“Make me confused Mock me with praise Let me be used Vary my days.”

I want(ed) to make an edit with this one, too, but I couldn’t even decide on which version to choose… Maybe there's someone more capable than me who'll actually do it one day.

“Somebody crowd me with love Somebody force me to care Somebody let me come through I'll always be there As frightened as you To help us survive Being alive.”

Tamino — Indigo Night

It’s a perfect fit for Juwon, I’m a little insane about it. (Please do not notice that this is my third Juwon association, please do not perceive me.)

“He says, “I, I have seen the world's most beautiful places Still I feel, as If I'm a walking machine Watching it all through a screen There is nothing in between to me This might as well not be real.”

It’s a song about Juwon being his miserable self (though not as self-aware), and Manyang gang teaching him how to finally not be a flop who thinks having no friends is a flex, basically.

“And he cries, “Why can't I sing along with some feeling, or some meaning? It feels like I've always been blind I don't know why you girls are so kind For there are so many in line Whose lives aren't as lost as mine.”

Think of Juwon obsessing over that one stalker photo of Manyang gang gathered at Jaeyi’s, eating and having fun, so full of life and joy. And Juwon being anything but. Until he actually meets Dongsik and the rest and learns how to eat soup with the love of his life staring at him across the table so lovingly. Yeah.

“’Cause he's never been More alive.”

Florence + The Machine — No Choir

Beyond Evil finale from Dongsik’s POV. And post-canon, too. Dongsik and Juwon, Dongsik and his Manyang gang. Just eating well, sleeping well, having people you love around is enough to be happy—and to just be.

“And it's hard to write about being happy 'Cause, the older I get I find that happiness is an extremely uneventful subject. And there will be no grand choirs to sing No chorus could come in About two people sitting doing nothing.”

The song fits with the feeling of the show’s ending so well. It’s so… mellow, yet melancholic, yet light and soothing.

“But I must confess I did it all for myself I gathered you here to hide from some vast unnameable fear But the loneliness never left me I always took it with me But I can put it down in the pleasure of your company.”

To some people the ending was too soft or too open-ended, rather unsatisfying, not dramatic enough. But that’s what made it so perfect in my eyes. The mystery is solved, the chase is over, all that is left is the unspoken words, the smiles, the silent promises, all of the implied in-betweens… The show’s over, practically dead, yet, to me, the characters couldn’t be more alive, continuing on with their quiet lives filled with quiet love. I hope they’re pooping well, too.

“And there will be no grand choirs to sing No chorus will come in No ballad will be written This will be entirely forgotten.”

[thelionshymnal]

end of year wrap up

it's that time of the year where i am going to say nice things about myself or ELSE. only i don't want to talk right now, so i'm going do this differently than usual because i make the rules. this is going behind a cut cause it's gonna be hella long and grossly self-indulgent lmao.

so here's the year in review, my friends. so far in 2022 i have posted 222,969 words. 36 fanfics across 4 fandoms.

two of those fandoms are new, so you know i'm over here gnashing my teeth about all my WIPs, but Y'KNOW WHAT. falling in love with something is a beautiful thing and i enjoyed the hell out of those brief, dizzying hyperfixations haha.

now then:

tie a ribbon 'round your fractured heart - FFVII - cloud/reno - teen All the furniture is still boxed up. Nothing has been added to the apartment. It pisses Cloud off, that Reno’s squandering this place. He throws the carpet onto the floor of the living room and asks, “Too fucking lazy or too stupid to put this shit together?”

“Too fucking busy, you piss stain,” Reno snarks back.

The asshole is smoking out the kitchen window, the smoke detector casing dangling down from the ceiling, all mangled wires and ill intentions. The coffee maker is brewing another pot. Reno looks pale and tired and irritated.

Cloud wants to drown him in his empty sink.

“What,” he asks, low and slow. “You looking for new victims? Rufus tired of playing shiny new hero already?”

Reno rolls his eyes. Hops off the counter and scrounges in a coffee canister. Comes up with more gil than last time. He flings it across the kitchen so that it litters the floor, and then he clambers back onto his counter and leans a shoulder out the open window, exhaling smoke. “Fuck off, dick breath,” he mutters, not so quiet Cloud can’t hear. “We’re fucking vigilantes, heroes are lame.”

beast of burden - genshin - ganyu character study - teen “I find her a necessary burden,” Ningguang interrupts, the low rasp of her voice very calm, almost serene. It is when she sounds the most dangerous, Ganyu thinks. “Captain Beidou is as integral a cog in the mechanism of our city, dear Ganyu, as you or myself. Where we must be beacons of light, of law and order, so too must there be those who can wade through the grime, set the snare in the demon’s den so that I might better hunt those who would harm us.”

Ganyu walks at Ningguang’s side.

One step, and then another.

She does not say: I am not your junior to be so lectured. She does not say: I have seen this ploy a hundred times over, and while it works I dislike it. I dislike the cunning cruelty, the subterfuge, but I understand the martial necessity of such tactics. She does not say: I hate Captain Beidou of the Crux, and damn your need for her!

Ganyu has walked beside countless Tianquans.

“Yes,” she says. “Of course, Ningguang. You’re right.”

you're too old to be this shy - genshin - beidou/ganyu - gen She had thought to thank Shenhe for her service.

Thought also to word it in such a way that she could extend her gratitude for protecting Beidou, when Ganyu had feared her own powers not enough to shield, without ever quite saying so. The urge feels foolish now. Small and afraid, weak and wanting. Better for Ganyu to have said it boldly, bravely: You protected more than you know. My heart is whole thanks to you. Thank you, thank you.

She could have said it, she realizes.

Shenhe would not have been bothered by it in the least.

keepsakes and promises, ch2 - genshin - beidou/ganyu - explicit “Please don’t make me keep a stash of personalised porn,” Ganyu whines. “Someone will find it in five centuries and declare it the historical find of the season and books will be written about it!”

“That could be fun. Maybe they’ll make a play about us! Then you could go watch us fall in love all over again.”

Ganyu is collapsed atop her, a weight that’s comforting for all it’s sticky and overheated. The room seems quiet without sex noises, and the floor is much harder beneath Beidou’s spine than it had been five minutes ago. But the thought of Ganyu sitting in an audience three, four, seven centuries from now, hiding a mortified blush behind her hands as she watches their love unfold on a stage, makes her smile.

i will lay own my heart - genshin - eula/amber - teen Amber’s face falls. She’s starting to shiver beneath her sodden layers. “Aw, did I gross you out, Eula? But I turned away in time!”

“Hush,” Eula says. “Despite the upbringing, I am no delusional noble woman determined to pretend normal bodily functions do not exist. Amber, you did not gross me out. Now, hurry and take off your clothes.”

It takes a second for the words to bounce back at her, and when they do Eula’s whole existence pauses, all functionality ceasing. Amber stares up at her with both brows raised high in surprise, but she doesn’t seem bothered. In fact, amusement is sparking in her eyes, twitching at the corners of her tempting mouth. “Eu-la,” she says. “Maybe a few more kisses first.”

“You are a scoundrel,” Eula declares, jolting back into her body, trying to smother her racing heart. She turns, goes to her wardrobe. Fumbles for any clothing that may suit Amber.

“Says the woman who told me to get naked.”

“Amber!”

starstruck - genshin - beidou/ganyu - teen Becoming a secretary isn’t at all what she’d ever imagined doing with her life, and getting the job had been more accidental than anything else, an offer she’d decided not to refuse. But she likes it. Likes the work, gruelling though it is, with a million different things to balance and people to navigate. Beidou likes solving problems; likes being relied on.

Hell, for as long as she can remember wanting a thing, Beidou has always wanted to be a hero to Liyue, just like Captain Ganyu is—simply by doing the work that needs doing.

“Is there anything I can do to convince you to stay?” Ganyu asks, looking earnest and hopeful.

With a task to focus on, the captain loses her flush. She still looks far too pretty, but also a lot more like the calm, collected, capable captain that Beidou has spied at a distance. Beidou’s heart skips a beat having all that prized attention on her. She licks her lips; shifts her weight from side to side, feet aching and brain circling and shit fuck damn, she sure hopes this isn’t actually a fever dream brought on by too much work.

“Well,” Beidou says. “I mean. Maybe you could buy me a drink.”

i want love to roll me over slowly - genshin - ganyu/beidou - explicit She came to terms with the breaking of her vow in quiet moments, looking out the window at the harbor, the way the waves churned up white foam when a storm blew through, electricity on the horizon. She accepted it when she bought a small collection of grape wine, the bulbous jars cradled in her palms until she secreted them away in a cupboard back home, along with some of Beidou’s favorite snacks and an extra canister of the tea she seemed to prefer. It was, perhaps, a little early to be doing such things, and in darker moments, when Ganyu was frayed along the edges in a way that made her feel sick, weary, utterly foolish, she worried if maybe she’d lost her chance—that the wind would never bring Beidou back to her, or that Beidou would finally reach the end of her persistence and patience, look elsewhere, leave Ganyu alone forever.

Sometimes, Ganyu stole sips of sweet wine and teased herself with too light touches, luxuriant strokes; drove her own mind to stillness with the ache of denial whenever the emptiness of her own bed gnawed at her.

Sometimes, Ganyu simply drank until she fell to unconsciousness.

The next day she would always replenish her stash, a little queasy and guilty with the shame of overindulgence, heartsore and anxious and frantic mind filling up with all the things she would do to Beidou if only given one more chance, until finally came the day The Alcor was sighted sailing into Guyun Stone Forest, half the Crux fleet straggling along like a school of fish to a shark.

as if it pictured grief - genshin - miko/ei - mature Seven more years pass, and in the interim Miko is lonely enough to join her own war: that of transforming Narukami Shrine into the grandest, holiest, and most lucrative of tourist attractions in all of Teyvat. It keeps her distracted most of the time, but the loneliness fails to abate. When she lost Saiguu, lost Chiyo, lost Sasayuri—when they all lost Makoto and innocence and the beautiful way things once were, Miko at least didn’t lose herself.

She thought at first it was because she was kitsune, her morals always a little left of center to most. Then she thought it was because she was strong, strong enough to stand against the tide of loss.

Now, she realizes it’s because she still had Ei.

nothing beautiful comes (without a fight) - genshin - shenhe/ganyu - explicit After her heat passes unfulfilled, what always lingers longest is the raw ache of her throat from screaming her agony, her betrayal.

She is screaming now, a battle roar of hungry bloodshed as she grapples with Ganyu, twists, kicks, evades. Evades—it seems an impossible thing, that Shenhe would be the one retreating. And yet Ganyu is always there a moment later, crowding her, catching her, touching her. She does not scream back. She does not threaten. She is quiet and quick and focused, relentless with her stern expression, those glittering eyes like a violet sky, pink on the horizon. Each blow is turned back, every tackle overturned; Shenhe throws herself again and again at this small, pretty thing, so delicate looking as to seem a doll.

But her alpha does not break.

Shenhe feels as if she is the toy, instead.

There are tears in her eyes, she realizes, as frustration chokes her, clouds her vision with brightness. The dark recedes. Her limbs grow clumsy, full of an ache and a want and weakness that she’s never quite felt like this. Ganyu wears her down; the rage, which Shenhe once thought bottomless, is emptying out.

i won't be falling on my knees to beg you - ofmd - ed/stede - explicit Within moments they are cheek to cheek, their feet shuffling back and forth between each other. Stede keeps humming even though he isn’t very good at it. Ed sighs; relaxes for what feels like the first time in his life. “I’ve missed you,” he admits in the exact same tone he’d told Stede he probably hates him.

“And I-”

“No, no, don’t stop the music,” Ed demands.

“-ah, very well,” Stede allows, and begins humming again. A little softer, a little sadder. It suits them better, Ed thinks, and feels his heart swell up, tender to the touch. He closes his eyes and loses himself in the warmth of Stede’s embrace. He says,

“There is nothing I fear more than you, Stede Bonnet.”

and there will be better days - ofmd - ed/stede - explicit Stede disappears below to get ready. He’s nervous; his hands jump from sword to shoe to errant curl, and he wishes very dearly he had a proper mirror to examine his teeth in for stray food, rather than a dented serving tray. But needs must, and Stede goes about girding himself for war with a single minded dedication that is all about how much he can’t fail here - he cannot sit on the side of his bed and bury his face in his shaking hands, weeping. He cannot stumble, he cannot fall, he cannot lose his nerve. How often has he wanted a thing only to be shot down, denied, spurned his advance?

So many, too many.

Until Edward, who had looked at him and laughed with delight, with wonder. Had said, “I like it,” and meant I like you. How terrifying it is, Stede thinks. The story books never really spell it out, do they? Or maybe Stede was so enamored of escape and glory he never paid attention to their warnings. But now he knows. Now he feels it. How fearful and uncertain a thing it is, to be so close to all you long for, your very heart’s desire, and to know that it is only you and you alone that may wreck it at the last.

A deep breath in; a deep breath out.

Stede slaps his palms against his cheeks until they are stinging. “Go and get your man,” he scolds himself.

i'll walk through walls into your heart - ofmd - ed/stede - teen Ed is tired of running, but he’s never had to figure out how to be brave about love before, not like this.

Slowly, the sun finishes sinking. Stede takes a dinghy from his stolen ship and rows alone to the sandy shore. Ed watches him through the window of the Revenge, cold glass and hot breath, ache in his too tight ribs. When he’s ashore, Stede stands alone against the darkness, lifts a lantern high and slides open the shutter, letting light spill out like a beacon.

Come back to me, Stede says.

Edward huffs. Pulls his feet up against the hard wooden bench. Folds his arms over his bent knees and stays there until morning, watching how that light blots out the stars. A warning; a beckons. Ed wants and Ed fears and in the end Ed can’t move at all, neither backwards nor forwards. Not yet. Not yet.

between your heart and mine - ofmd - ed/stede - explicit “It was already ruined. We seriously need to get you better clothes, man. I quite liked all the shiny stuff. And- yeah, well. Why use my own? I like your hands better than mine,” Ed says, and he’s thinking about how happy he is right now, how warm and good the whole morning has been. He’s thinking about the way Stede has been calling him my treasure and darling and love, and even more than that he’s thinking of the way Stede’s eyes had gone all dark and hungry when Ed told him he wanted a treasure hunt this last time, and-

Ed wants, and for once it’s not complicated at all.

“Really?” Stede is saying, all surprised. He flexes his hands out in front of him. A lance of sunlight catches across his knuckles. “You do? But- But they’re not elegant and thin like yours, dearest Ed. They’re not nearly so competent, either. Why, I’ve always thought they were a decent sort, but not much more than that.”

“I like them,” Ed says again.

“Mm, well. I’m glad to hear that. But ah, you’ve still got a bit of- a bit of dough, I think. There at the corner of your mouth.”

Ed hums. Smiles some more. “Yeah.”

well now, i did this chronologically starting from the beginning of the year, and i meant to force myself to get through every fic because tbh, i don't remember half of what i wrote by this point. but fuuuck this took a long time for exactly that reason haha.

glad i did it though (:

[glngrbred]

Story about Grime

a short story i wrote in universe for my main project (the card game :) "

Homunculi Magic is part of the seed that is creation, not existence, not life, creation, of course, by its own nature, the very first thing to spring into being was grime, and it did so purely because it thought it should try something new, everything that had yet to exist was to scared to try, but grime knew it would be fun, and at the sight of this, they fey chose to learn from the muck, Soon they learned to populate the world seeds with plants and detritus, and creatures of many kinds, and the muck thanked them, for now it had people to play with. 

But nothing loved the muck back, They dug it out from their nails, stripped it from their fur, shoved it out of their nest, and cried when it tried to hug them through their finery. And one day, Grime gave up on trying to befriend others, it went still, and quiet, and it didn't move for a very long time. Sadly, one day grime was alone in thought, thinking about the beginning, and how it felt to be lonely,

and grime wept, for it had not changed one bit, and out of those tears came a little Goby. 

The fish was so beautiful, it shone like a star,  and then it swam up to grime and rested its own head in the muck.  Grime was never lonely after that, and so grime was at peace, accumulating as time passed, as it knew for certain that somewhere, its shelter was being enjoyed.

And that’s where many stop telling that story, for young ones are normally asleep by the time the dirt cries. But that’s not everything in the story,  No! Goby wasn’t content bringing grime to peace!  Soon the Goby Multiplied and became many, And soon the entire ocean was full of fish, all of them bringing and savoring their own Muck! 

The goby never let Muck feel alone, And soon they had found purpose, making sure no where, no way would muck be forever lonely again, The gobies of course knew that fear and loneliness waited around every corner so they always worked in teams, some went onto the shores and one day became new birds,  scrounging leaf litter  to keep grime’s favorite view of the sky clear. 

Some went to cities and became orcs Like you and Me,  They thought that Everyone ought to appreciate grime, and soon they did!  Creativity was born out of appreciation of crime, of the unclean, of the messy,  and into that chaos, out bloomed art!  And soon the Goby knew no one who thought could ever forget Grime’s peace, 

but There Goby who still wasn't content, there was only One so determined,  It dug into the grime and found temperance, a feat so magical that we now begrime homes on the solstice.  That same goby, with newfound temperance, newfound understanding, and newfound respect realized something.

Sometimes, those who nurture grim and mess don't intend to,  sometime, those who are not fending for themselves can’t fight well,  Sometimes, those in pain don't fight to live on because they want to, they do because they don't know what else they can do

And the goby now took a moment.

 and it cried, and it let itself cry. But the goby was determined

And into that tear the goby swam, and swam, and swam, that goby never gave up, and on the other side of its tear, it emerged a dragon.

its molten scales shattered against the sand the dragons emerged above.  And those scales? Those scales are what became the Bwbachog. In it’s tear, The dragon had made a wish as it swam, and it’s plea with the universe, In its one foundational, original selfless act,  The wish.

It wished to be able to ward off loneliness, and fear, and Dejection, and so many more plights it knows deep down it helps cause,  and the universe answered,  Creation made a promise to birth more Bwbachog wherever loneliness needed a friend. 

But bwbachog are frail, and they get tired, so it is best to help them however you can. 

That is why you leave a blessing on the counter after you finish dinner, so the Bwbachog can rest, and know that we are thankful for Goby’s wish. We are thankful for friendship."

-A small peice of Orcish oral history.

[wordofthewicked]

Showtime- Paul Lahote

Fic description: A chance meeting one sunny afternoon on La Push brings you face to face with Paul Lahote. Your strange connection with him, and the fact that it was his soccer ball that broke your nose, you were wrapped up into an unseen world that lived in tandem with yours. How far are you willing to go for true love? How far are you willing to go to protect the people you love?

TW: underage drinking, drug use (weed), disgusting fluff

Showtime Masterlist

General Masterlist

Part Seven

To say that I am overwhelmed is an understatement. The amount of love this story has received recently is nothing short of insane. I’ve been writing online since I was 11, and I’ve never had so much love like this. I see every comment, reply, reblog, like, message- even if I don’t respond right away. It makes my heart happy that you guys love this little silly story like I do. I’ve got several more works I’m writing currently (Jacob, Seth, Embry, and a fun little Embry and Paul) that I’m planning to begin uploading soon. Thank you for your support and encouragement, it revitalized my love for writing in a way I didn’t know was possible. Part nine might be on a delay, as I head back to school in a few days! But don’t fret, I won’t make you wait too long! Feel free to send in requests, I’m working on some rn for Paul! I write for any of the boys, plus the Cullen’s as well!

~~~

Part Eight

The night you spent alone at Paul’s house was nothing short of magical, but in the coming days, you felt a sort of shift in your relationship. Paul was more physically affectionate than ever before, much to the dismay of the pack. Yet, whenever you caught him staring at you, it seemed like an unspoken question was hung on the tip of his tongue.

You two managed to spend nearly none of your time alone, always having some assortment of the pack by your side. Once Tuesday had rolled around, you were sure he was doing it on purpose.

You didn’t have it in your heart to question him, afraid that maybe he regret iti ted sleeping with you, or taking the relationship that far. It seemed silly to worry, since neither of you were virgins and you were basically bound together as soulmates. Still, every time you thought you’d have the courage to ask, someone would come barging through, ruining the moment.

By Thursday, you’d had enough. During a usual hang out with the pack, you’d all decided to marathon as many horror movies you could scrounge up at Blockbuster. You were curled against Paul’s side, your mind not focused at all on the movies.

Without speaking, you stood up, turning to walk through the kitchen and out the side door. You were certain Paul would follow you, and your confirmation came at the sound of the screen door falling shut.

“Y/N? Baby, what’s wrong?” He asked, his voice so soft and full of concern. “Did the movies get to you?”

You laughed a little, shaking your head. “No, it’s not the movies. I’m just… what’s going on with you?”

Paul furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“It seems like ever since we… you’ve just been avoiding me.” You answered, your anger fading away.

“I don’t understand, babe. We’ve been together every day.”

You sighed, running your hand down your face. “That’s not what I meant. We’ve been with the boys every day. I don’t want to monopolize your time, but I figured, I don’t know, that we’d spend more time together? Just us, you know?”

Paul frowned, moving to close the gap between you two. “I’m sorry, I thought you liked hanging out with them.”

“I do! It’s just… was I that bad in bed that you regret it?”

Paul paused for a second, before bursting out in laughter. His head was thrown back slightly, and his whole body shook.

You slapped his arm, your eyes widening in shock. “Paul! I’m serious!”

“I know, that’s what makes it funny!” He answered, resting his hands on your hips. “Why the hell would you think I didn’t enjoy having sex with you?”

“Because it feels like you’re trying to prevent it from happening again.” You drawled, not understanding his confusion. “You’re sending me such mixed signals, honestly. You’re practically on top of me 24/7, but you’re afraid to be alone with me. I feel like I’ve done something wrong.”

Paul pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “That was the second most amazing day of my life, baby, believe me. I just wanted to give you some space, since we had promised to take it as friends, first. I thought I’d let you process it without feeling like you needed to discuss it with me.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re an idiot?” You questioned, grabbing his face with your hands. “Why on earth would I want space? I wanted to talk about it, dumbass.”

The door of Emily’s cabin swung open again, and Seth poked his head out. “Paul, Y/N? Everything okay?”

Paul stiffened at his voice, and turned around to tell him off. You jumped in first, pushing away from him and smiling at Seth “Yes! I just wanted to stretch my legs for a bit. We’re coming back now.”

You ambled up the wooden stairs, and pushed yourself in past the younger boy. The lights inside the living room were now on, and the half the pack was standing around.

“We decided to take a snack break,” Embry explained, opening another bag of popcorn. “Jared ate all the popcorn.”

You laughed, shaking your head at the boys’ unrelenting hunger. Emily was giving you a curious glance, and she swept across the kitchen to lean over the counter and eye you and Paul. “You two alright?”

You nodded, sending her a quick smile. You glanced back at Paul and saw his jaw was tense, and his gaze was fixated on your figure. You nudged him playfully with your shoulder, and he broke out of his trance to capture you in a hug. He pressed his chest against your back, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“We need to talk, Y/N.” He spoke, his voice deep.

“Later,” you whispered, trying your best not to draw attention to yourselves.

It didn’t work. Even without their supernatural hearing, the pack had definitely picked up on the strange vibe shift between you two. You didn’t want to make things awkward, and you knew that Paul was likely delaying your conversation because he was avoiding the inevitable. Your relationship had changed, things weren’t the same as before.

Did you want to make things completely official? You’d been planning to move across the country for the last four years of your life, and attaching yourself to Paul would only complicate that further. Yet, you were already attached, in a way that no time or distance could change. You were meant to be together, and each day that passed just made that clearer.

You wiggled out of Paul’s grasp, turning around to kiss him gently, before you excused yourself to the bathroom. When you had closed and locked the door, you flipped your phone open and tried to think of some excuse to head home. It was still early, and your curfew wasn’t for another two hours. Still, you decided the best thing to do would be to leave, so you could think without prying eyes, or Paul’s intoxicating scent. You held your phone up to your ear, silently wondering why you were making such a show of it when you were alone.

“Hey dad, what’s up?” You spoke to no one, knowing that your voice would carry to the living room. “Ugh, seriously? No one else can come get you guys?”

You paused, trying to make it seem like there was your father’s soft pleas on the other end of the line. “Fine, I’ll be there in like 45. Yeah, love you too.”

You flipped your phone shut and slid it back into your pocket, before flushing the toilet and washing your hands to make things seem normal. You took a deep breath, ready for the amazing show you were about to put on. When you reappeared in the living room, you donned your best bummed face.

Paul furrowed his eyebrows at you, trying to seem like he hadn’t obviously listened into your fake phone call. “Everything alright babe?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. My parents were heading back from dinner in Port Angelous and got a flat. The jack’s in my trunk, so they need me to come get them. I’m afraid I’ll have to cut movie night short for me.” You explained, moving to put on your jacket.

Paul frowned, meeting you with your coat and helping you put it on. “Do you want me to come with you? I could help change the tire and then we could head back here when we’re done.”

You smiled and kissed him, holding his hands in yours. “As sweet as that is, I’ll probably just go home after I get to them. It’ll be easier than driving around all night. I’ll see you on Sunday though, right?”

“Right.” He repeated, his face clearly disappointed. “Well, let me at least walk you to your car.”

“Always the gentleman, Lahote.” You winked, standing on your toes to give him one last kiss, before biding everyone else a goodbye.

When you got into your car, you drove back home, your parents confused to see you so early. You explained you were tired from the day and didn’t want to be out driving late, and they appreciated your foresight.

You raced up to your room, turning on your ancient computer and waiting for it to finish loading up. You headed to your email and clinked on the acceptance link for John Hopkins, staring at the words on the white screen.

With your heart beating wildly in your chest, you clicked decline.

~~~

The party was on full swing, and your head was spinning as you stumbled outside.

“Y/N? You alright?” Mike asked, following after you.

You sighed, shaking your head. “Tyler’s been cornering me. I’m just gonna call Paul to come get me.”

Mike frowned at this, but didn’t press. Instead he pulled a brownie in a sandwich bag out of his pocket and broke it in half. “Snack for the road?”

You laughed and accepted it, eating it as you dialed the familiar number. Paul answered on the second ring, his deep voice concerned. “Hey, are you okay? What’s going on?”

“Can you come pick me up? I’ll text you the address.” You asked, avoiding his question.

You could hear shuffling and the jingling of keys. “On my way, where are you?”

You gave him Tyler’s address, and shortly hung up the phone, trying to pass the time until he got there. You probably had over half an hour, unless he floored it there, which you wouldn’t put past Paul.

Someone reached for your arm, and you jumped, turning to see Jessica’s smiling face. She was definitely a few drinks in at that point, but still much more sober than you were.

“Jess, you scared the hell out of me.” You enthused, grabbing her arm.

She rolled her eyes, steadying your swaying frame. “What’s this I hear about you leaving?”

“Paul’s coming to get me.”

“Y/N, you’re drunk as hell. You aren’t leaving with some random guy.” Jessica argued, her drink sloshing a bit as she flourished her arms in emphasis.

“He’s not some random guy, he’s my boyfriend.” You reminded her, giggling at her confused face. “How much have you had to drink?”

Jessica frowned, raising an eyebrow at you. “Are you high right now?”

You stopped and widened your eyes. “No, I’m on the ground.

“Christ.” She muttered, smiling at you. “You’re gone.”

“I’m right here.” You joked, nudging her arm playfully.

You saw a familiar figure traipsing his way across the lawn, and Jessica followed your gaze. You weren’t sure how so much time had passed, but perhaps that had more to do with the edible in your system than anything else.

Jessica smiled widely, eyeing up Paul as he approached. “Hey, I’m Jessica.”

Paul gave her a quick glance, but his eyes returned on your messy appearance. “Paul. How much have they had to drink?”

Understanding lit up Jessica’s features. “Ooooh, you’re Paul, I see. Uhm, I’m not honestly sure. I only saw them take three shots, but they were playing beer pong for a few hours, so…”

“Lovely. Alright babe, let’s get you home.” Paul laughed, coming over to wrap his arms around you.

You nearly melted into his touch, half jumping into his strong arms. “I can’t go hooooome. Not like this.”

“I know, I know, I’m going to take you to Emily and Sam’s cabin to sober up.” He responded, as you stumbled a bit into him.

You giggled, glee filling up your face. “Oh I love it there. Will everyone else be around, too?”

Paul laughed at you, shaking his head. “Probably. Though I don’t think they’re going to be prepared for you.”

“Carry me.” You demanded, jumping up suddenly, so Paul had no choice but to catch you.

He scooped you into his grasp gently, laughing again. He thanked Jessica, who was still slightly open mouthed and staring at him.

Paul carried you and placed you in the passenger seat of his truck, buckling you in before moving to the other side to get into his seat. He started the car and headed towards La Push, while you incoherently began telling him about the party. You were definitely nearly yelling, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Once you arrived at the cabin, Paul opened your door and lifted you up, cradling you against his chest. You snuggled into him a bit, inhaling his familiar scent deeply.

“Try your best to not be too obviously drunk, alright? I don’t want us to get lectured by Sam.” Paul whispered as you stepped into the porch.

You nodded furiously, but knew that Sam could probably smell the alcohol on you from where you were now. Paul opened the door and walked in, setting you down on your feet. You stumbled a bit, but leaned against his side for support, and wrapped an arm around his middle. You shot the group a wide smile, and they returned your gaze with a knowing look.

“I’ve already lost my chance to seem sober, haven’t I?” You asked, your face red and warm.

They all nodded, Quil laughing loudly. “We knew you’d be drunk as soon as Paul said he was picking you up. You don’t leave a party before 12 if you’re not super fucked up.”

Emily snipped at him for his language, while you giggled to yourself.

“Actually, for your information Mr… wait what’s your last name? You know what, it doesn’t matter. What was I saying? Oh yeah, I did not leave the party because I was too fucked up. I left because Tyler kept flirting with me and he was making me uncomfortable.” You drawled out, giggling as you struggled to find the right words to say.

Paul looked down at you, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me that? I would have sorted him out.”

You giggled again, stumbling as you moved back to place a hand on his chest. “Well because Mr. Lahote, see I know what your last name is, I didn’t want you to wolf out on a stupid 17 year old at his house party. Would’ve caused a lot of problems, and I’ll be honest with you, I am waaaaaay too drunk to have helped you calm down.”

Paul stiffened a bit at your words. “You don’t think I can control myself?”

You sighed, your limbs becoming tired as the alcohol kept seeping into your body. “I don’t know, either way it would’ve made a scene. And I didn’t wanna have to explain why my boyfriend was trying to fight the party host.”

He sucked in a sharp breath, and his grasp on your waist tightened. “Boyfriend?”

You stared at him in confusion, your mind too slow to comprehend what he was confused about. “Is that the wrong word? Isn’t it boyfriend? Boyfriend… boyfriend… boyfriend. Well now it doesn’t even seem like a word.”

Paul laughed lightly, shaking his head. “You’ve just never called me that before.”

“Oh,” you furrowed your eyebrows, your mind beginning to process the situation. “Is… I mean is that not what this is? Are we like, platonic talking everyday, and falling asleep on the phone, and kissing? That doesn’t feel platonic to me.”

“It’s definitely not platonic, no.” He confirmed, moving forward to hold both of your hips.

You smiled up at him, standing on your toes to kiss his nose lightly. “Well, then you’re my boyfriend. Calling you my soulmate feels too cliché to me, plus other people wouldn’t understand.”

Paul laughed at you, kissing your forehead. “No, boyfriend is good. Great even. I just didn’t expect it.”

“Well that’s what you get for making me wait a week to talk to you about it.” You replied, your head lolling over on your shoulder, the weight of it becoming unnecessarily heavy. “You’re my boyfriend, Paul. Even told Jessica and everything.”

Suddenly you became overly aware of your breathing, feeling like it had become manual. You took a step back and closed your eyes as the room began to sway around you in that familiar way. Between calling Paul to pick you up and heading outside of Tyler’s house, Mike had slipped you an edible, and you had forgotten about it until this moment, until it hit you like a bus.

“Woah- you alright?” Paul asked, seeing you sway on your feet.

You giggled in response, nodding happily. “M’fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” He murmured, his eyes taking in your face in concern.

You hummed a bit, falling into his arms dramatically as you laughed. “I am absolutely fantastic, actually.”

“You definitely can’t bring them home like this.” Emily commented, frowning slightly. “You both can stay here for the night.”

“I’m supposed to stay at Bella’s.” You responded, leaning back drastically so Paul had to hold you in a dip. “Oh well, now I didn’t plan on how to get back to Bella’s.”

“I’ll text my dad and tell him we’re staying here.” Bella spoke, pulling out her flip phone.

You squealed upon hearing her voice, pushing away from Paul to stumble over to the loveseat she was curled up on. “Bella! It’s Bella, oh my gosh I didn’t even see you! Bella!”

Bella laughed, shaking her head. “It’s me, Y/N.”

“How has your night been?” You asked, leaning against the armrest of her chair.

“Much less exciting than yours was, I presume.” She responded, smiling up at you.

You hummed in thought, before frowning. “My feet hurt.”

Paul walked over to you, a backpack in hand. “Alright, let’s get you comfortable.”

Bella stood up to give you her seat, and you plopped down numbly, giggling as you ran your hands over the soft blanket that she had left behind. Paul kneeled down in front of you, and you furrowed your eyebrows as he unzipped the backpack.

“What is that?” You asked, leaning forward in interest.

Paul chuckled, unzipping your heels and tugging them off, before replacing them with a pair of soft fuzzy socks. “It’s my go bag for you. I figured since you’d be spending a lot of time down here, I should have a stock of things you might need, that way you’re always comfortable.”

You leaned forward even more, peering down into it. “What did you get for it?”

“Uhm, let’s see… the socks, makeup remover wipes, deodorant, hair ties, a hair brush, tooth brush, toothpaste, pads, tampons, chocolate, pain killers, and some snacks so your blood sugar doesn’t get low again. Oh, and I have a pair of my pajamas in here as well, just in case.” He responded, digging through the bag as he spoke.

You didn’t reply, staring at him wide eyed. Paul shifted under your gaze, discomfort flooding through his body.

“Is that weird? I wanted to help make the transition of being here easier on you. Emily helped me pick things out. I live with my dad and brothers, so I didn’t have any of this stuff at my house. I didn’t want you to need something and not have it.” He spoke, rambling a bit as he became nervous.

You giggled, falling back into the chair and wiggling your toes in the fuzzy socks excitedly. “I am absolutely going to marry you one day, Paul Lahote.”

Paul paused at your words like he was stunned, before shaking his head and standing up. “Alright, let’s go get you changed into the pajamas. You can’t be comfortable in those clothes.”

You knew he was right- the tight red skirt and black bralette were both revealing and uncomfortable- but the thought of getting changed seemed like too much work. The room was still spinning, and your high was making you sleepy. “You can’t be comfortable in your clothes.”

He laughed, leaning forward to grab your hands and pull you up. “Jeez, Y/N, if you wanted me out of my clothes that badly, you should’ve said so earlier.”

You giggled at him, realizing how short you were without the aid of your heels. “You didn’t give me the chance, unless you wanted me to ask in front of the whole pack.”

“Do you need help getting changed?” Paul asked, holding tightly onto your waist, and doing his best to ignore your comment.

“Mmmm… maybe. It seems hard.” You replied, closing your eyes and resting your hands on his forearms. “Everything is hard. Except your skin, it’s so soft. Are you always this soft?”

“Uhm, I think so? Are you sure you’re alright?” He questioned, tilting his head at you.

You giggled in response, opening your eyes to look at him. “Can I tell you a secret? You can’t tell anyone else, okay? Mom and dad will get mad.”

“Mom and dad?” Bella repeated, confused.

You rolled your head to the side, resting it on your shoulder to look at her. “Yes, Sam and Emily. Mom and dad, or I guess dad and mom.”

“I could see that.” She replied, smiling.

“Right. Well, don’t tell them, but Mike gave me a special brownie.”

Paul sighed, wrapping his other arm around your waist. “So you’re cross faded right now?”

You hummed in response, pausing at the look on his face. “You don’t seem happy with me. I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have called. I just… I didn’t know what else to do.”

“No, no, no. I’m glad you did, baby. I just don’t have much experience caring for intoxicated people, and the weed isn’t going to help any.” He admitted, ushering you off toward the bathroom.

You stumbled into it, and Paul shut the door behind him as he placed the backpack on the counter. He began pulling things out, and you sat down on the toilet lid to wait. The room was still swaying slightly, and you felt uncomfortably warm with the substances flowing through you.

Paul grabbed your hands and stood you up again, his hands moving to your skirt before freezing. He silently asked for your permission, and you nodded. He unzipped the red fabric, and pulled it down your now bare legs. He kept his face forward as he held out his pajama pants for you to step into, and you held onto the counter as you did. Once they were on, he tied them tightly around your waist so they wouldn’t fall.

Paul looked at your bralette in confusion, trying to figure out a way to get it off of you. You giggled a bit, turning around to reveal the zipper that kept it together. He didn’t hesitate, pulling the metal down as the fabric split in half, and he tossed it on the floor. You felt him stiffen at the realization that you weren’t wearing a bra, and you turned around without hesitation. He kept his eyes trained on your face as he slid the shirt over your head, and you pushed your arms through it. He then sat you back down on the toilet, and took out a makeup remover wipe, before cleaning your face of the few layers you had painted on.

You felt your heart swell as he worked, watching the intense concentration on his face. You’d never had a guy treat you so gently and affectionately before, and it was taking everything in you not to wrap your arms around him. When he was finished, he pulled out your updo and had you turn to the side. Gently, he brushed your hair out of its knots, and ended up braiding it.

“Wow you’re good at that.” You admired, holding the finished product in your hair.

Paul laughed, picking up your clothes, and zipping them into the backpack. “My hair used to be longer than yours.”

You tried to imagine that, but your brain couldn’t come up with a steady image. “You should grow it out again.”

Paul smiled at you. “Maybe one day, darling. Let’s get you back to the living room, alright?”

You nodded and stood up, immediately stumbling again. Paul wrapped an arm around you, and you looked up at him. You took one of your hands and pulled his face towards yours, trapping his lips in a passionate kiss. You felt such an intense desire to have more of him, to have all of him right then and there. You tried to deepen the kiss, and his grip on your waist tightened. He let the bag fall to the floor, and pressed you back against the counter of the sink. Instinctively you hopped onto it, and wrapped your legs around his waist, before returning your lips to his. He groaned slightly, and to your displeasure, he pulled away.

“Y/N, you’re drunk. You should go lay down on the couch.” Paul spoke, backing out of your grasp.

You hummed in annoyance. “Or we could stay here. I mean, no one has to know.”

He shook his head, picking up the bag again and grabbing your hand. “Doesn’t matter, baby. You’re still drunk.”

You sighed, hopping off the counter and slipping, while muttering to yourself. “Jeez, no drunk hookups for us?”

Paul didn’t respond, he just returned his hand to your waist to steady you and pulled you into the living room. You returned to the love seat, and smiled to yourself, brushing your hands along the fuzzy blanket again.

“This is the best place in the world.” You mused, squeezing it between your fingers. “This house, all of you. I can’t imagine being somewhere better.”

Paul shot you a weird look. “You’re an affectionate drunk, huh?”

You laughed, letting your head loll to your right shoulder as you looked up at him through your eyelashes. “Depends on the situation. Usually I’m a horny drunk, but you shot that down in the bathroom.”

Jared and Quil burst out laughing, before Paul shot them a death glare. Emily moved to the kitchen and handed you a glass of water, and you took it with a shaking hand. You nearly spilled it on yourself as you felt your arm jerk unexpectedly.

“Y/N, what’s going on? Why are you shaking that badly?” Paul asked, kneeling down to be level with you.

You dismissed him with your freehand. “Happens when I smoke too much.”

He frowned. “When did you smoke?”

“Sometime before playing pong. It’ll go away soon, it happens all the time.” You answered, reaching out to play with his hair affectionately. “Your hair is so soft. You really should grow it out again. Maybe I can learn to braid then.”

Paul rolled his eyes, standing up and squeezing next to you on the loveseat. “You can’t braid hair?”

You shook your head, drinking half the glass of water before handing it to him for safe keeping. “You shouldn’t trust me with glass. I always break glasses when I drink. Mike nearly banned me from coming over after I shattered 2 of his mom’s in the same night.”

Emily took the glass out of Paul’s grasp, and returned instead with a plastic cup. The room was mostly silent, and you realized that you were something of a spectacle to them. It made you almost sad, knowing that none of them got the typical high school experience, or could even really get drunk since their bodies were so warm and they burned the alcohol off easily.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, sweeping the room with your eyes before looking at Paul. “I should call someone to come get me. I’ve intruded on your evening.”

Paul frowned, placing an arm around your shoulders. “You haven’t intruded on anything, okay? I’d rather be the one to take care of you while your drunk, that way I know you’re safe.”

“Okay, thank you. For coming to get me. I appreciate it a lot. I got really overwhelmed being there tonight, which I’m going to assume had something to do with the shots Mike kept handing me while we were playing pong. I’m only really good at it when I’m drunk, you know. We’re the champions of our grade- nearly undefeated.” You babbled, reaching up to play with his hair again.

“You seem to go to a lot of parties.” Emily frowned, her voice worried, not judgmental.

“I mean, yeah. It’s senior year, you know? Everyone’s getting ready to adjust to the college party scene. Except me, of course.” You laughed, smiling widely. “I’m not going to college anymore.”

Paul sucked in a sharp breath. “Wait, what do you mean you’re not going to college anymore?”

You smiled at him, running a hand down his toned chest before returning it to your lap. “I mean, I’m going to go to Forks Community College, then I’ll probably transfer to SU to finish my degree.”

“But that’s not what you want. You wanted to go off to the East Coast. I know you got in to John Hopkins, so why aren’t you going?” He questioned, his face concerned.

You giggled a bit, rolling your eyes. “I can’t leave you, obviously. I hate not seeing you for a day. Do you think we’d survive being apart for 5 month stretches?”

“We’d figure it out. I don’t want you to give up on your dreams for me, ever. That’s not something you should have to compromise.” Paul argued, his face incredibly serious.

You shrugged, drinking more of your water before returning it to his hands. “Doesn’t matter, I made the decision already and declined Hopkins. I can study biology here just as well as I can out there.”

Paul sighed, cupping your face gently. “I wish you would’ve talked to me about it. I would’ve encouraged you to follow your dreams, go where you need to be.”

“I am. I mean, I went back and forth a lot before I made up my mind. Tonight just made it so clear, you know? The whole time I was at that stupid party, all I could think about was how much better it would’ve been if you were there. I don’t want to go off and get drunk in a frat house, I don’t want to go anywhere away from you.” You admitted, shrugging at him. “I never had a reason to stay in Forks, but now I do.”

Paul seemed like he wanted to say something more, but he just smiled at you and handed you the glass of water. You continued drinking it, falling somewhere lost in your thoughts. You stayed silent, mind focused on the boy next to you, and the trajectory of your life now.

“What’re you thinking about?” Paul asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

You finished your drink and handed the empty cup back to him. “Fate, I guess.”

“Fate?” He echoed.

You hummed, smiling. “Fate. It’s what brought us together, isn’t it?”

“Dunno, haven’t thought about it.”

“Well, I have. And I’ve decided it’s fate. For us to have met on the beach, you to have broken my nose. All of it had to happen exactly as it did for us to end up together.” You concluded, nodding as you spoke.

Paul smiled and ran his hands down your arms. “Fate it is, then.”

You smiled back, before your face fell in realization. “Oh, I should’ve talked to you before calling you my boyfriend.”

“It’s fine, really.”

“No! That’s a big step. We were just friends, but then I mean, we slept together Paul. That’s not something friends do.” You emphasized, your eyes widening.

“It is if you’ve got the right friends.” Quil suggested, which earned him an uncomfortable look from the rest of the room.

“Why don’t we talk about this in the morning, when you’re sober, okay?” Paul suggested softly. “And when we’re alone.”

You groaned, rubbing your itchy eyes dramatically. “It’s not like they won’t just hear about it later, anyway. What’s the point in having a private conversation if they can just read your mind?”

Paul sighed, frowning at you. “Doesn’t mean they have to witness everything first hand, you know.”

“It’s fine, it doesn’t matter. I just don’t want you to be mad at me for calling you my boyfriend. I didn’t think about it, I guess. It just felt right.” You continued, pursing your lips. “Once I said it to Jess, it was like I had said it a million times before.”

“Please don’t hold it against yourself, baby. I would’ve let you call me your boyfriend the day we met if you’d wanted to.” He confessed, his face a bit dazed. “You took me by surprise, but there’s nothing else I’d rather be.”

You smiled at him, licking your lips as you realized how dry your mouth was. Emily refilled your water, and you took large gulps before talking again. “What was the best day of your life?”

“What?”

You giggled a bit, sitting up straighter. “You said that the second best day of your life was when we slept together. So what was the first?”

Paul looked away from you, suddenly finding your hands interesting. “Dunno how you’re still so with it when you’re this far gone.”

“It’s a talent, really. I can’t walk for shit, but I can talk coherently, and run from the cops. Or danger, probably. But then again, I guess there is no danger when I’m here. You’d never let anyone hurt me.” You mused, pushing your hands against his chest and shaking him gently. “Stop avoiding my question.”

He sighed, looking at you with feigned annoyance. “The day I met you.”

You laughed, your whole body shaking and convulsing, tears falling out of your eyes. You couldn’t help yourself, though what you found funny about his answer, you weren’t quite sure.

Jared whistled lowly, quirking a smile across his tan face. “Even your partner things your answer is dumb.”

You spoke through giggles, wiping away the tears from your cheeks. “No, it’s sweet. The best answer I could’ve imagined. I just didn’t expect it, so it was funny.”

Paul chuckled at you, pulling you against his chest to kiss your head. “You’re a mess right now, babe.”

“And you get to deal with it for the rest of your life. Aren’t you a lucky man?”

“The luckiest man alive.”

~~~

Tag List:

@sorrow-and-bliss @fangirling-4-ever @emme-looou @swidkid @sunsetevergreen @yourwonkywriter @avis15 @shawrs @rottenstyx

Comment, message, reply to be added!

[jjstoothpick]

Alive. (JJ x Reader)

(Not my Gif. Based on lyrics from the song Sid and Nancy by MGK)

“I knew a girl who'd wear my t-shirts when she went to sleep at night She'd make sure I'm breathin' in the morning”

Another long day waiting for JJ to return home from work had passed. John B had already returned and headed straight for the shower. Living with those two was something interesting that’s for sure. Every day and night brought a new adventure. But you swore the day you met them that you would be there to take care of them, through the good, bad and ugly. Especially JJ. He had a chokehold on your heart and honestly you were okay with that. When JJ didn’t return home with John B, you started to worry. John B said that JJ told him he’d meet him at the house and to go ahead. To be honest you were mentally cursing at him for not staying but yelling at him wouldn’t resolve anything. You decided to text JJ.

You: You good J?

JJ: yeah babe. I’ll be home in a few.

You: okay, what’s taking you so long?

JJ: tell you more when I get home. I love you.

There were few times that JJ ever texted you he loved you. Not because he was a jerk, just because he preferred to tell you in person or call you. So you knew this couldn’t be good but you tried not to worry too much about it and started to get ready to go to sleep. You scrounged through your dresser, grabbing the first T-shirt you saw. It was one of JJs old ones. You shrugged it on. It was a bit big but you didn’t mind, you slipped into a pair of basketball shorts and continued with your nightly routine. You were halfway through washing your face when you heard a stumble into your connected bedroom. You turned around to see a disheveled JJ at the end of your shared bed. It looked like he had been beaten to no end. He looked rough. “J?” You said quietly walking toward him. He smiled weakly. Your eyes traced his face. Bruises. Everywhere. “Oh…j…what happened?!” You said softly grazing the largest gash along his eyebrow. He winced. “Dad, Rafe and Topper all in one day.” Was all he muttered out. His words stung like venom in your heart. It hurt you so much to see your JJ, the strongest man you’ve ever known, your protector, at his worst. You had to be the strong one now though. For him.

After you fixed up his wounds, you wrapped your legs around JJ so you were seated in his lap facing him. You squeezed him as tight as you could and he silently rested his head in the crook of your neck. You mumbled “it’s okay”s and “you’re alright now”s as JJ sobbed. You sat there like that for, what felt like, hours. JJ eventually decided to lay down and you followed suit, resting your head on his chest. You twisted a blonde curl at the nape of his neck around in your fingers and eventually the two of you drifted off to sleep.

The next morning came quickly. The sunlight grazed your cheek. You checked to see if JJ was still asleep next to you. He was. You placed a soft kiss on his sun kissed nose. He didn’t move an inch but he was breathing deeply so you knew he was just sleeping heavily. You swung your feet of the bed as they quietly touched the ground. You didn’t want to wake your sleeping prince. You headed to the kitchen and started to brew two cups of coffee. The aroma of coffee soon filled the air as they finished. Slowly you carried the mugs to your bedside table only to notice a very sleepy JJ propped up on his elbow.

“Mornin’ sunshine.” You said to the boy who was now sheepishly staring at you. You followed it with a smirk. “Is that my shirt?” JJ smirked back. “Yeah..I didn’t think you would mind…” you laughed. “Not. At. All.” JJ said a smirk growing wider on his face. He grabbed you and pulled you in for a soft kiss. “Thank you.” He said in between breaths. “For what?” You questioned. “For making me feel less like the bad guy….for making me feel….alive.”

Needless to say the rest of your day was filled with way more fun than the night before. It didn’t take much for you and JJ to appreciate each other, and you did indeed.

A/N:

This was my first JJ writing and it was all I could think about when I started listening to this song, sorry. Feel free to let me know what to do next.

[ramzawrites]

Hello Ramza my beloved! \ (⌒▽⌒)/ Could i request a fic where reader is ranboo's younger sibling? Y'know endermen kiddos doing cute lil' endermen things; i thought that'd be a cute idea! :]

BigBrother!Ranboo and Reader - Useless Enchantment

GN

Pairings: none

Characters included: Ranboo

Warnings: n/a

Series: a request by my beloved anon <3

Summary: Y/N ran away after Ranboo insulted their enchantment they have worked on, calling it useless. They just wanted to help out!

Words count: 1548

Authors Note: I apologize for this short one and I turned this around a bit into a different direction. I hope it’s fine! I do like the idea of Big Brother Ranboo though and would love to write more for him but at the moment this was the only thing that came into my mind! Still, thank you for the good prompt! :]

A young child was carefully stalking through the dark forest. The gaze from his red and green eyes always attentively roaming between the trees and fauna. One of his hands resting on the hilt of his worn out iron sword. Glistening with a simple sharpness enchantment that the boy managed to put on there with the help of an old book.

It was currently the dead of night and therefore being outside was dangerous. Mobs were now prowling around attacking everything on sight only to later retreat or burn to ashes once the sun come back around again.

Now, it wasn’t Ranboo’s choice that he was outside during the night but he had to look for someone. His younger sibling Y/N.

After a particular heated argument Y/N stormed outside of the old broken hut that the two have reappropriated as their own home. Of course Ranboo immediately tried to follow them but he wanted to make sure to at least grab the sword before following them in case anything happened. Unfortunately this also gave Y/N the time to get out of his vision

“Y/N! Please come home!” he yelled out for the what felt like the hundredth time.

Truth be told he didn’t full remember already what they were arguing about. Either it was just that stupid or his faulty memory was acting up again.

During his life his memory had been a huge problem of his and something he didn’t feel too comfortable relying on. The only definite thing he could and will unequivocally rely on was his trust in his sibling.

They were always there for him to either help him through his confusion or they would cheer him up, no matter the situation.

“Come on! Y/N! It’s dangerous!”

“Go away!” The voice came from above him. Sniffling and stifled sobs accompanying it.

Confused Ranboo looked up at the treetops only to see Y/N sitting on a particular thick branch. They were hugging their own legs and viciously rubbing their eyes, trying to make sure that none of their tears would hit their skin but Ranboo could see a few bright red lines and splotches on their cheeks.

His eyes widened “Come down and let’s go home! What if a skeleton sees you! Or a spider!”

But Y/N just tightly shut their mismatched colored eyes and shook their head “Nuh uh! Just so you can make fun of my enchanting again? I was trying to help!”

Oh, that was what happened. The house had an enchanting table, which was one of the deciding factors for why they moved in there for the time being and Y/N tried to enchant a piece of armor to help their brother out but accidentally managed to put on a what Ranboo described as a “useless” enchantment.

Ranboo looked around himself, making sure that no mobs have caught on to them yet “I’m, uh, sure we can find a use for an aqua affinity helmet. How about we go home and talk about it!”

Y/N slowly opened their eyes again, they were still busy trying to dry their tears. Wincing whenever their tears still managed to escape and making an uncomfortable sizzling sounds as it touched their skin.

“You think so?”

He nodded, getting more and more nervous just standing around in the forest like this “Yes, of course I’m sure. Why would I lie to you? You have to come down the tree though.”

Y/N hesitantly let go off their legs and let them dangle off the tree. Taking a deep breath in they just jumped off the branch.

This Ranboo didn’t expect. Scared for their well being he ran over to them trying to catch them somehow. It might have not been a huge drop but it was still long enough to definitely end up in some sort of injury if Y/N didn’t land correctly.

Ranboo opened up his arms but Y/N still just crashed into him. Falling off the tree only to disappear and reappear right on top of him in a cloud of purple particles. Knocking all the air out of his lungs as he fell over with his younger sibling in his arms.

While he could pick things up without destroying them, Y/N inherited the ability to teleport even if the range at the moment is only a few feet at best.

On one hand he was happy Y/N was finally down the tree but on the other hand he was now busy coughing as he tried to fill his lungs with much needed air again. It also didn’t help that Y/N didn’t immediately jump off of him and instead took a second regaining their own bearings.

Once they did jump off him though, they helped him back up. Y/N then immediately wrapped their arms around his body. Pushing their wet face into his chest. A few painful and muffled whimpers escaped them as they essentially pushed their wounded face into Ranboo’s shirt.

Still coughing Ranboo softly put his hand on Y/N’s head. Trying to calm them down even more as he carefully caressed their head in between their two white and black horns. The least he could do right now is try to stop their tears so they wouldn’t be in pain on the walk home.

It seemed to work somewhat. When Y/N looked back up into their brother’s face their eyes were still looking glassy but it didn’t look like more tears were rolling down their face.

Happy with this Ranboo took Y/N’s hand in his and together the two begun walking home. Y/N’s gaze always directed on the ground, only occasionally jumping towards noises around them. All the while Ranboo took the lead, his sword in is other hand.

Y/N’s hand sometimes flew up to their face. Tracing along old tear scars and the new once. Grimacing every time their fingers got too close.

Ranboo too was sensitive and got hurt by water as well but for the longest time now he suspected that Y/N showed a more stronger reaction to it than he ever did.

Guilt swept in as he realized that if he never made fun of their enchanting they wouldn’t be in pain right now. His grip on Y/N’s hand strengthened. He wanted to say something but when he opened his mouth his words left him. So he just concentrated on the walk home for now.

It didn’t take long for the two to reach their home. As soon as Ranboo opened the door the light of the fire places greeted them. It was just a run down little hut. Most rooms were almost unusable. Either too broken down over the years or filled with debris. So the two spent most of their time only in the living room. Even made makeshift beds around the fire place so they could keep warm while sleeping.

“Y/N, sit down on the chair over there.” Ranboo pointed at one of the chairs next to dinner table that stood close by.

Y/N didn’t wait and immediately moved towards the chair to do as Ranboo told them. While they did so Ranboo put his sword away and got out a rag and a spare potion they managed to scrounge up out of a chest.

He then moved another chair in front of his little sibling so he could sit in front of them. Putting some of the potion on the rag. Moving it close to their face only to see them preemptively wince.

“I’m sorry Y/N. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have made fun of you. You did good!”

It surprised them when Y/N smiled at him “It’s alright. You didn’t mean to. Also you promised to find a good way to use for the enchantment anyhow.”

They looked smug when they said the last part. As if them running away was all a plan to make him promise that.

A pout appeared on his face and he sighed “Are you sure you are my sibling and not just annoying endermites in a trench coat?”

They stuck out their tongue “I don’t see any other Hybrid around here that is half Enderman and whatever our other half is.”

They were right. Both of them showed the same markings of their Hybrid sides. Including having the same eye colors of green and red. Ranboo may not have all of his memories and both didn’t know where they came from but he knew that Y/N was his sibling. He just knew it.

All of his memories had them in there as well. They were always there with him., survived together.

“Anyway I will clean up the wounds a bit so the scars won’t be too noticeable, alright? The rest you gotta drink.”

Y/N nodded. Closing their eyes waiting for Ranboo to touch up the wounds. It’s not the first time they did this after all. They knew how this would go.

Ranboo softly touched their face with the wet cloth. As soon as he did so he could already see Y/N’s skin repairing itself a little bit. The bright red lines getting darker and in the case of the face side with the enderman skin it turned into white lines.

Wincing at every touch but they managed to stay still.

He then pushed the bottle into Y/N’s hands who happily downed the liquid since it also helped to suppress the pain.

Relived Y/N let out a few happy chirps similar to the sounds that of actual endermen.

“Ranboo?”

“Yeah, Y/N?”

“Can you teach me how to enchant things properly? You are way better at it this than me.” They sounded a bit sheepish.

[may-day-voice]

Prom Night Lights | The Reunion

2nd Edition w/ Denki Kaminari, Hanta Sero, Hitoshi Shinsou & Tenya Iida

please do not repost, but you have permission to reblog :)

• Watch/ Listen on YouTube: https://youtu.be/onhumQcEcs8

• Read on Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1060373778-prom-night-lights-the-reunion-2nd-edition

DENKI KAMINARI | Ivre

It was strange for Denki Kaminari to be so frank with everyone after his many successes in his career. Especially after he had drunk one too many cups of punch. Upon arriving at his old haunting grounds, he parked his car just inside the gates before bumping into Ashido, the both of them arriving at the same time where Kirishima and Sero were hanging around. A few bits of conversation was tossed around here and there until Bakugou came and went, following after another alumni in the process.

Kaminari was thrilled to see his old classmates, buddying up to Jirou upon meeting her, as well as a few other members of his class. Everything was going smoothly, until he helped himself with some of Sato's punch along with Kirishima.

He became a bit of a mess.

"Sero, hey!" He called from across the table. "About that text message you sent-"

"Uh dude, now's not a good time," interrupted Sero with a nervous pull of his lips, his eyes darting around the auditorium.

"Huh? Okay," slovenly agreed Kaminari. "I'll talk to you later, actually, have you seen Aoyama anywhere?"

"Uh, yeah, I just spoke to him a while ago. He's probably at the-"

"Oh there he is!" Exclaimed Kaminari with a wave towards the drinks bar. "Aoyama, hey!" He immediately stood to his feet, a little flushed before he walked up to the fabulous-looking blond, spotting his attire still clean and immaculately refined.

"Ah, Kaminari," greeted Aoyama with a smile. "You look worse for wear."

"Nah, I'm good," reassured Kaminari. "I just wanted to say thank you for your help. I know it was short notice but your tips and tricks really helped."

"You mean that very quick phone call about French?"

Kaminari nodded slowly while he took another sip of his punch, happily enjoying the night. "I mean, I had them going for a little while, but they beat me fair and square. It's great though, thank you so much!"

Aoyama eyed the drunken blond, amused and concerned, before he began to wonder about his predicament. "So, um, where is this villain?"

"Aww, stop calling them that," reminded Kaminari before he pulled out a small device from his pocket. He pushed the device into Aoyama's face, the screen honing on a location very close to Gym Gamma, beeping repetitively.

"They're safe and sound in my car, see?" slurred Kaminari before he placed the honing device back into the pocket of his pants. Clumsily.

Aoyama eyed the blond in mild disbelief. "They're here?"

"Of course, my job needs me to be near them at all times," answered Kaminari, while he finally pocketed the device. "I can't leave them alone at mine."

"Well, yes, but they shouldn't stay alone in the car all night," voiced Aoyama.

"Relax, they're cuffed so they can't escape," reassured Kaminari.

A gasp escaped Aoyama's lips upon hearing this predicament, his tone swaying and swooning disappointingly. "But what about the little Cherie?" He questioned. "Sitting in the car while we're having the night of our lives. I can only imagine what they may be thinking, being locked up all alone unable to do anything."

Kaminari's drunken smile slowly faded after processing Aoyama's words. How long has he been at this reunion now? It may have been a couple of hours, maybe even more. He couldn't tell with all the fun and laughs he joined in speaking and conversing with his old classmates.

"Maybe it is best to invite them here, hm?" suggested Aoyama. "They don't sound as bad as you make them out to be. And besides, as Heroes, we have to set an example."

Kaminari's shoulders slumped at Aoyama's suggestion, his eyes staring down at the floor of the auditorium with an embarrassed look crossing his face. He hadn't been the greatest host, more so, the greatest friend despite the professional stance on his responsibilities.

"I should bring them in, huh?" He asked, a little disheartened at his lack of empathy.

All Aoyama did was beam a smile.

——

You occupied yourself in the car with a basic beat knocking the door and shaking the cuffs. Night had already fallen outside and the sound of crickets hit your ears, but time felt still that you had no idea how much had passed. An hour or two? There wasn't much to keep you entertained while Kaminari enjoyed his reunion. You could hear the bass of the music play from the car, spotting the lights of the auditorium glow through the canopies of the trees that lined the walkways. You smiled at the rhythm, recognizing Earphone Jack's music.

You sighed, while you slumped in the passenger seat, reclining the seat a little to find some comfort despite the cuffs and the ankle brace. You regretted not bringing a book to keep you stimulated. If anything, you didn't sign up to hours of boredom.

KNOCK KNOCK

You blinked out of your bored stupor, spotting the blond outside of the car, waving cheerfully yet holding an embarrassed look on his face. It took you back until he walked over to the driver's seat, sitting beside you in the car. It was no surprise to smell the alcohol on him, hitting your senses like a tidal wave.

"So..." started Kaminari. "You doing okay?"

He was definitely drunk.

"I'm fine, I've been worse," you replied with a small smile. "Just the usual checkup tonight?"

"Well, um..." Kaminari's eyes looked away from yours, almost ashamed. "I'm sorry."

"Huh? About what?"

"Leaving you here while I'm inside having the time of my life."

You tried to look into Kaminari's eyes, but he made it difficult. Was this really how he felt? Or was that the alcohol that reeked from him? Learning about the Pro-Hero over the course of his supervision was unpredictable, but watching him now genuinely saddened made you wonder if all of his inhibitions had crumbled.

"You're just doing your job," you reassured, lifting your cuffs to prove a point. "Besides, taking me in a large outing filled with Pro-Heroes and the like would have been a bad idea."

Still, Kaminari wallowed.

"Roi de la Fee? Prince Charmant? Cherie?"

"Stop."

The look on Kaminari's face did not change while he stared off blankly into the car's dashboard. He sat there silent, succumbing to his emotions about the situation currently playing out.

"This is my job, but you're not the job," he explained, his voice laced with a dash of croakiness. "You're a decent human being, and I've left you here like a dog."

"Well, I did say that I was happy to just be under house arrest tonight," you reassured with a wry smile. "That way you could go out and enjoy yourself."

"No, that's not it. I brought you along saying that I needed to keep an eye on you, but really... um..."

Kaminari's eyes continued to cast down on the dashboard, refusing to look you in the eye while he mumbled around with his words and thoughts. You figured he was well drunk, the smell of him didn't deny him of that, but while his eyes rose to meet yours, there was a glint of guilt.

"I guess, I really wanted a plus one here, but at the last minute, I decided to leave you."

There it was. Uncertainty. Similar to how you saw him back at your capture and how he reacted to the situation. However, the both of you conversed many days and nights now, recalling that impromptu outing to a trivial recreation that was mini putt-putt, and have since learnt more about one another. You figured at the very least, his cold feet were brought upon after seeing a friend of his by the academy's gates - a pink-haired, pink-skinned beauty who waved him over.

You sighed and hummed in reply, uncertain yourself as to how to respond to this confession of sorts. Reassurance may look like pity, laughter would definitely make light of his feelings about it, but in the back of your mind, you felt oddly sympathetic to his emotions. You almost felt excited that you were within the walls of the illustrious school.

"I can take you back to mine," Kaminari offered while he scrounged for his keys. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable-"

"Oh no," you interrupted, grabbing hold of his hands. "You are way too inebriated to be driving."

Kaminari only stared at you, dumbfounded, realizing the folly of his suggestion. "Right, um... well I can't give you the wheel and-"

"Kaminari, why did you come back to the car?"

A silence fell between the both of you while you still kept your eyes on Kaminari, the blond taking a deep breath and attempting to think clearly.

"I... I... I spoke to a friend, and he suggested inviting you in to join us tonight."

"Oh? So the Heroes know you have a villain captive by the gates?" You teased in a small jest.

"Not only that but they want to meet you. Not in a scary way, you know, in a good way. Like they want to get to know you, not like interrogating you just, really meet you, and-"

"I guess you've been saying good things about me," you interrupted softly. "Well, as long as you're my chaperone for the night?"

Kaminari turned his eyes onto your smiling ones, beaming with a grin, his face still running warm from the alcohol. "Of course! I mean, if you want to."

A soft smile tugged at the corner of your lips while your hands still held onto Kaminari's throughout this conversation. "I would be honored," you replied with a slight bow of your head.

Immediately in his drunken stupor, Kaminari leapt from his seat and out of his car, running over to your door. Sadly, in a momentary lapse of drunkenness, he had forgotten about your wrists still bound by the door with cuffs, causing Kaminari to immediately in his hurry unlatch you from them.

"Sorry," he apologized while he helped you out of his car.

"It's all right Kaminari. I'm okay," you reassured, finding your feet and soon holding Kaminari up as a support for his clumsy ones. He paid no mind though, allowing you to keep his arm propped against you, ensuring his stability on his weak drunken legs.

"Shall we?" He asked.

"Lead the way."

Kaminari shifted while you held onto his arms, propping his weight onto you. Still, he held you, leading this drunken sway from his car down the laneways towards the bright lights of the auditorium. He leaned his head on yours, smelling the alcohol and feeling the flush of his skin on yours. Kaminari had never been this close before, knowing in the back of your mind that his inhibitions were driving him now more than his common sense. You allowed his actions to dictate the trek to the auditorium, until his breath tickled your ear, his words breathless.

"I love you..."

Your smile disappeared for a moment, still on the walk while he continued on.

"... and that's the beginning and end of everything."

You sighed with a heavy heart, smirking at his quotability still drunk, and knowing you've been reading The Great Gatsby thrice now. Yet his choice of words only hurt.

"May I ask, was this friend of yours your French tutor you mentioned earlier?" You asked curiously, trying to keep your thoughts at bay.

All you received was a nervous chuckle from Kaminari, his grin only captivating you despite the hindsight. "That obvious?" He asked while he clumsily tripped on his feet every once in a while.

"Just an educated guess, Cherie."

HANTA SERO | Outfoxed

Hanta Sero smiled up at the large white gates of his academy, memories flooding back in torrents and waves on all of the adventures, and a few mishaps, he got himself involved in with his ragtag of friends. After making his way to his old haunting grounds, Sero greeted Kirishima outside Gym Gamma, smart and casual for the evening to begin.

"Oh yeah, your date!" exclaimed Kirishima in mid-conversation. "How did it go?"

"Uh... it went pretty all right actually," answered Sero, grinning wryly while he recalled a few points made during his rendezvous in the city's museum.

"As long as you feel good about it, there shouldn't be any problems," piped Kirishima's partner. "Seeing them again soon?"

"Um..."

"Hey guys!"

Sero inwardly sighed in relief hearing Ashido's cry from afar, interrupting the conversation, and soon finding Kaminari along with her setting his mind at ease. Kaminari was the only one amongst the group who had full knowledge of his working relationship with you. Having heard of his work with the Commission, and his constant supervision over one of their more villainous assets, Sero thought he could find some advice from the Stun Gun Hero and close friend.

That was until the night was underway.

With Kaminari and Kirishima drunk from punch, Sero had to unfortunately be the sober one at the reunion, seeing how Bakugou couldn't care less about the current situation. A loose eye around the dance floor ensured Kirishima was taken care of, and soon enough, Kaminari became chatty with old schoolmates, leaving Sero a moment of reprieve for himself. He sighed in exasperation, finally relaxing into his chair until he spotted something on his dirty plate.

It looked awfully familiar.

Salutations Bucky.

Sero choked on his breath sitting up on his seat, immediately turning his eyes to scan the enormous auditorium, filled to the brim of every student across their year. How on earth did you get inside, he thought, his eyes darting around the room hoping to spot something familiar - your fur-trimmed clothes, your outfit, even your eyes.

He didn't even notice Kaminari approach him from across the table, his arms leaning onto it in a drunken stupor.

"Sero, hey! About that text message you sent-"

"Uh dude, now's not a good time," interrupted Sero anxiously.

"Huh? Okay, I'll talk to you later, actually, have you seen Aoyama anywhere?"

Sero's mind was elsewhere, his eyes were focused more so through the crowd rather than Kaminari's presence whatsoever. "Uh, yeah, I just spoke to him a while ago. He's probably at the-"

"Oh there he is!"

Sero didn't pay any mind to Kaminari's movements or whereabouts. He only managed to notice something move in the distance, something out of sorts until a flash of eyes met his, disappearing into the crowd. Idle chatter and the cacophony of voices drowned his senses. He could only spot a glimpse of this person, who weaved through the crowd until he emerged finding nobody in the middle of nowhere.

Perhaps he was imagining it. Surely if he walked back to his table that card wouldn't be there. All a trick of the mind, and probably one too many patrols in the city. He scratched the back of his head, playing with the bristles that tickled his palm without realizing he was still being watched.

You stood by the makeshift bar, eyeing the Pro Hero in the middle of the crowd with a smile. Sneaking into the event was a little troublesome, but nothing like taking out a waiter and disguising as them solved that problem. It was strange to walk around... normal. No black eye makeup, no mask, no outfit. Just you, in a waiter's outfit, but truly you.

Looking around the auditorium was a sight to behold. Everyone was here, and you couldn't help the coy feeling that bubbled inside knowing you stood amongst the most prominent Heroes to grace Musatafu this day and age. To your estimate, you had eavesdropped on a fair few conversations, finding some boring, and others mildly amusing. To your dismay, there had been nothing relative to what you were searching for. Nothing close to the Paranormal Liberation Front. Perhaps a reunion wasn't the right locale to discuss work matters, at least in the company you kept.

You started to reset your tray of horderves by the bar, attempting to keep your cover when a strikingly handsome man stood beside you, helping himself to some already on your tray.

"Couldn't wait?" You asked.

"Ah, but it is just too delectable to wait upon Cher," he spoke, his flamboyant nature almost lighting up the room. That accent was just-

"Are you French?" You asked, earning a dazzling smile from the man.

"Oui, well, I do speak French. Aoyama," he introduced with a bow.

You stared at the man inquisitively, wondering about his mannerisms, his speech, and how he projected himself until-

"Nice to meet you," you started while you set yourself with the tray to serve. "I have a question that you might help me with."

"Whatever for?" Asked Aoyama with a flamboyant flair.

"You reckon there are better alternatives to Mio Caro? I don't mind it but I think it's cute."

You soon walked into the crowd, leaving Aoyama off-guard at least. You merged back into the crowd with a smile on your face, semi-proud of your elusiveness while you kept an eye on where Sero had disappeared amongst the large body of alumni around the auditorium. It didn't stop you from stealing an horderve or two for yourself until you felt a tug on your shirt.

"Hey, been working hard?"

The voice was not familiar, and yet it wasn't also at your level, looking down to find a short man beside you. He grinned widely while his eyes looked you up and, well, up.

"You know I could take you behind the scenes of this academy. Show you around," he spoke with an attempt at temptation.

You stifled a chortle that almost burst through your nostrils, only to cover it clearing your throat. You looked around the room, hoping that ignoring him and his comment may be the solution.

"I know all of the more romantic spots here."

Or at least you thought.

"No thank you sir," you spoke as formally as you could.

"Really? You're the most gorgeous person I've seen aside from my fellow classmates here," he continued.

"Why thank you. But I must be going."

You continued your way through the crowds, handing more horderves around only to feel that presence next to you. That short man just didn't quit.

"How about we step outside for some fresh air?" He suggested. "Get out of the noise."

"I quite like it here sir," you rebutted, noticing the tray growing empty until the last horderve was procured through the crowd. "The noise helps me think."

"Well then, if you like to be noisy we could-"

Slam

You quickly threw the empty tray into the man's face. Not so difficult given how short he was before you teleported yourself across the room, your light bursting momentarily through the air. You hoped the commotion with the tray would keep eyes away from you, appearing on the other side, out of sight.

You breathed a sigh of relief. You had never seen persistence to that degree. Still, you couldn't blame the guy for having some good taste, smiling at the thought with a roll of your eyes. You brushed the uniform down from the commotion earlier when the sound of footsteps caught your ear, spotting a shadow that stretched ahead of you from the fairy lights.

Until the tall frame of a dual-haired man in a white suit exited the party, with phone in hand.

He looked distracted, paying attention more to his phone call than to you standing by the doors, until you recognised that it was the one and only Shouto.

"There is nothing more you found?" he asked calmly and yet with a presence that would make your blood run cold, frozen even, despite the irony in that.

"I don't trust them," he continued on the line. "Has the Commission been a little co-operative on their end?"

The word caught your ear, perked them in curiosity and interest, while you leaned against the open doors, intently listening in on this one-sided conversation. A sigh was all you heard, hearing the frustration in the Hero's voice before his eyes looked up at the night sky, watching the stars sparkle brightly above.

"Keep an eye out on anything that's related to Rainmaker at least," he ordered over the phone. "There's something about him I don't like."

A pause cut through the air, waiting for another piece of the conversation to continue only to meet the Hero's exasperated sigh.

"No, it's got nothing to do with my Love, all right?" he spat, almost embarrassed over the comment, until the light tone of a laugh could be discerned over his phone. "Send Aizawa my regards."

With that, Todoroki hung up on his phone, turning back into the auditorium before his eyes merely glanced at you, his scar prominent in the light. You stared at awe at the Hero, watching his aloof and nonchalant gaze follow you while he walked, only for that expression to soften into a smile, nodding at your presence. Your eyes followed him back inside while he affixed his cuffs on his suit. For someone who had a cold front, he was actually a warm person, you thought, leaning back onto the doors again.

"Hate to break it to you, but you seem to be stuck," spoke a voice beside you, catching you off guard, until a smile cracked on your lips.

"All right, you caught me, fair and square," you conceded with your arms in the air, turning to face Sero now by the doors. Sero only stared, seeing you without the getup, without the makeup, without the added exhaustion from troublesome chases the both of you endured. He just saw you, bare for him to see.

"Like what you see?" You piped, almost shyly this time around.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, suspicious of your presence.

"It's all in the news, and I didn't want to miss seeing all of your friends," you replied in jest. "The ones who celebrated your birthday I'd imagine? Besides, it's good to get out and meet new people. And there's nothing worth going after in town anyway."

Sero continued to only stare, lost while he absorbed the most normal facade you wore. His eyes trailed along the outfit, while you chuckled inwardly, feeling the awkwardness in the air.

"I'm sorry," slowly spoke Sero. "It's just... did you steal that outfit?"

"No," you replied in slight offense. "I borrowed it."

Sero eyed you again with a raised brow, assessing your response with suspicion. As he should be. Finding you here amongst his friends was a surprise, but ever since that "date", and every other time he encountered you, there was always a catch.

"... after I knocked the guy out," you ended, earning a slightly panic-strickened Sero to react intensely momentarily. "But they're fine! I made them comfortable... in a kitchen pantry, but they're not hurt!"

Sero sighed exasperatedly at your explanation, giving up in this weak interrogation for your supposed gatecrash into the reunion. Soon the tempo of the music changed, turning into a slow and rhythmic sway. Sero turned to spot the dance floor now calmer, filled with those who began to slow dance in the room. It was a magical sight with the fairy lights, almost like graduation returned to the present again.

"Don't worry, I'll leave. I've brought too much attention anyway," you reassured him. "At least let me have one doggy bag to go."

You turned to the Pro Hero only to find his hand open to you, his torso in a semi-bow while he smiled. It was an odd interaction, one you weren't familiar with.

"May I offer this dance before I do?" He asked genially. "You're here now, so you may as well experience prom."

Your confused stare slowly turned into a smile, taking his hand and being pulled into a sway just outside the doors. He was extremely coordinated, no less from the most agile Pro Hero you've encountered, but he held you gently in his arms while you instinctively without thought, laid your head on his chest. Though the crowd inside enjoyed the atmosphere, you enjoyed Sero's company, underneath the night sky, swaying in his arms. A smile crept on your lips, involuntarily you'd admit. But the sound of Sero's heartbeat felt calming, the deep thrum engulfing your senses.

You felt... normal.

Sero held your body against his wondering how this felt so different from every other time he had encountered you outside of this academy. It felt as if you melted into him, allowing him to take the lead this time. Relinquishing control must have been foreign to you, or so Sero thought, still swaying alone by the doors outside of anyone's prying eyes.

The both of you stopped while you held each other in your arms, embracing this feeling the both of you shared in this moment together. You never would have imagined baring everything you were to this man, staring back into his genuine grin and eyes, silhouetted by the fairy lights behind him. You peeked past him, spying on the crowds that congregated in the auditorium until a familiar face strode gracefully towards Sero from behind.

"Sero, mon ami," called out Aoyama, his hands waving in the air. "I've been looking for you everywhere."

Sero blinked from the sudden disappearance of your figure, left with only fractals of light before he turned around to greet Aoyama.

"Hey Aoyama," he replied nervously in acknowledgement.

"How goes that thief you were talking about?"

Sero's hairs stood on end in panic. Were you spotted with him, dancing moments ago together? If he were lucky, he would imagine Aoyama commenting about him dancing with the catering staff, a good sign if he did.

"Well, they've been... elusive," answered Sero, his eyes darting around the doors hoping to spot you somewhere nearby.

"Elusive indeed. I've been thinking about another kind of code name you could tease them with next time you spot them," motioned Aoyama with a sense of pride.

"Huh?"

"I've been thinking that calling them Mio Caro was too, what's the word, specific? It sounded boring the more I thought about it."

Sero wondered what came about with this conversation, but to his relief, Aoyama showed no inkling of him witnessing you with him moments before he interrupted the moment.

"Oh really?" Slowly asked Sero, suspicious about how this came about. "What other ideas do you-"

"Aoyama!" Cooed a voice from outside. "Come meet them! They're awesome!"

Sero and Aoyama both turned to find Kaminari, still drunk, being led or leading his plus one to the door. It looked to be a mess from the both of them, more so because of Kaminari's inebriation. Both men instinctively approached the couple, Sero taking Kaminari and Aoyama offering his arm to his plus one, the villain turned Commission's witness. The group, despite the sloppiness in Kaminari's slurred speech, made their ways back to the doors, unaware of them being watched by you, your eyes taking in the scene, but mostly on Sero before he disappeared into the auditorium.

You breathed a sigh of relief, lying your body atop the roof of the auditorium, staring up at the stars in the sky twinkling much like the fairy lights inside. Your chest bubbled with laughter, happily taking in that moment with Sero - the warmth of his hands, the sway of his feet, the sight of his smile while he led you step by step.

Gate crashing was worth it. You've experienced prom, even if it was only for that brief moment.

"Thanks Bucky."

HITOSHI SHINSOU | Soulmate

It was a long day at the Commission's office before you hopped out to make your way to your reunion. Given that you had only recently spoken to Bakugou and Kirishima due to their mission on Nabu Island, you smiled at the thought to see them dressed up for the night, rather than their disheveled, bandaged selves from whatever happened in the quiet town.

The thought of the reports were fresh in your mind while you strolled towards the academy. Headshots of the suspect were included as well, seeing his smiling face in frame. Compared to most captives, he wasn't cocky, but it looked genuine despite the photo. Still, interrogations would commence in a few days seeing that due process was required before any more information could be collated together.

You spotted a few familiar faces in the street heading towards the school, most of them faces from other classes that you recognized until a mop of purple hair caught your eye loitering by the tall white gates. Hitoshi Shinsou was dressed to the nines, prim and proper, but not in that dark purple suit.

"Hey," you called from afar, catching his eye before you reached him by the gates. "Were you waiting long?"

"Not really," he answered dryly, stretching his limbs. "I was actually getting comfortable."

"I'm just a little disappointed," you commented with a smirk, catching wind of Shinsou's confused expression. "I was really hoping to see you in that suit again."

"Oh, that suit," he murmured apathetically before he sniggered under his breath, walking up to you lazily before his nose hovered close to yours. "Am I not good enough?"

You couldn't help but burst into a giggle with him being so close. An involuntary reaction you were sure, but it gave him a smile seeing you react the way you did, grabbing hold of your hand while his fingers entwined in yours.

"Well you've proven the suit doesn't make the man," you quipped happily.

You could feel his chuckle close to your ear before he slowly pulled away from you, taking you by the hand back into your academy once more. It felt surreal to walk through the paths again, recalling the times you've seen Shinsou take laps around the dorms during off-hour training. Memories flooded back, watching the new generation of students walking past, whispering under their breaths. It didn't phase you though. You could hear every word they were thinking, smiling at their curious natures.

"Did I miss something?" Asked Shinsou beside you.

"Not much," you snarked through your giggles. "Just heard some good things about you."

"Oh really?"

You beamed a smile at him, gently caressing his hand with your thumb while you tried to keep his eye on you. "Sounds like you're a role model for the underprivileged, but you also have a fan club."

News of such magnitude caused his shoulders to stiffen. You spotted it despite the flattering suit he wore only making you chuckle deeper. The look in his eye was a multitude of emotions, ranging from confused, shocked, and utter disappointment. You continued to comfort his hand in yours, still walking past while spotting a group of students whispering, attempting to steal gazes at the both of you making your way to Gym Gamma.

"It's hard to ignore," you concluded, still looking up at Shinsou who looked away, slightly embarrassed. "Want to know what they're saying-"

"No," he interrupted. "I don't need any self-serving praise. I'm here to spend a night with the one person I trust the most. And work needs to be as far away as possible."

You sighed in agreement. Work was becoming a little too close to home having taken on the case with the assassin and the Tartarus prison break. The trip to Polis Massa Bay yielded very little results despite witness accounts of a trio who fit some description to the members of the prison coup. There were no other sightings during that weekend.

Night was on its approach with the dark blues merging with the last dregs of sunset pinks in the sky. Ahead, you spotted the last of your alumni entering the auditorium, pulling gently on Shinsou's arm to quicken your pace. You weren't extremely late by any means, but seeing that most invitees have already entered made it seem so.

"No need to rush Kitten," spoke Shinsou, still allowing you to pull him by the arm.

"Come on, we can't miss Iida's and Yaoyoruzu's welcoming speech," you advised.

"Is that the highlight of your night?"

"No, but it'll make for great vocabulary building."

Shinsou sighed at your rationale but can only smile at your fervent need to join the others inside. It wasn't often either of you would surround yourself with many friends, whether it was work, or just general bad timing. To him, he still couldn't fathom the idea of calling the others friends, but a slip of the tongue here and there had seeped into his own vocabulary, only caught by your ear. He took a deep breath before the both of you reached the doors to the auditorium, filled to the brim of all the students of their graduating year, now grown older and hopefully wiser.

"Shall we?" You asked while your arm wrapped around his.

Shinsou said nothing, only smiling at you before he took the lead inside the brightly lit auditorium, sprinkled with fairy lights.

——

After taking your seats and enjoying the night's festivities, the both of you soon caught up with your former classmates, holding conversation and learning more on the gossip. You smiled at the sight of Bakugou and his now fiancé, recalling that weekend away bumping into the both of them there and chuckling wryly at the awkwardness at the time. You soon noticed Shinsou approach Bakugou and converse with him from afar, watching the irate blond pull faces at him, most probably after a mild insult. You shook your head at how the two of them would still butt heads with one another until you felt something different in the air.

Out of all the surface thoughts you could hear, you suddenly gained access to the conversation between Shinsou and Bakugou, staring off at nothing while you sat at your table amongst the rest of its residents still chatting away. It was difficult to ignore while you intently listened.

"Eh? What about it, Eyebags?" Spoke Bakugou while he took a sip of punch.

"Congratulations," simply replied Shinsou, opening his hand out to the blond.

Bakugou stared at him with a furrowed brow, however he took his hand, shaking it firmly. "Tch, it was nothing."

"So how do you feel?"

"What do you mean?"

"Was the frustration worth it in the end? You were pretty mad on that lunch date," reminded Shinsou with a smirk.

"It's because people like you and your weakass partner were getting in my way the whole time we were there," complained Bakugou.

You cringed at his comment. Bakugou was Bakugou, even though he had softened his edges over the years. Still, it didn't help his rude undertones every once in a while.

"Hey, firstly, they're not weak, and secondly, you just had the worst case of bad luck," explained Shinsou with a slight harsh edge to his voice.

Bakugou scoffed before downing the last of his punch, eyeing the crowd of guffawing alumni until they laid on his fiancé not too far away, laughing and chiding away with his friends at their table. Shinsou caught that look on his face, that cocky smirk obvious to see.

"You worry too much sometimes," he uttered nonchalantly.

"What was that?" Snapped Bakugou.

"You want to make a grandiose gesture, and I bet that you had to slow down when it all went down, right?"

Bakugou sneered at Shinsou's question, almost turning his lips into a pout which caught Shinsou's eye again.

"So, you did take my advice."

"Shut it Eyebags," snapped Bakugou once more, earning a chuckle from the sleep-deprived man while he enjoyed his cup of punch. "You say one more goddamn word-"

"Your secret is safe with me," interrupted Shinsou. "No one needs to know, and besides, nobody would believe that you and I enjoyed that lunch date together anyway."

The sound of Bakugou's scoff echoed in your mind again, realizing that you had finally discovered at least to some degree what Shinsou was insinuating back at Polis Massa Bay. The mere idea that Bakugou had the patience to go through, let alone listen to, Shinsou's advice was astonishing. Perhaps there was a mutual respect between the two over the years since their first encounter back at UA.

You felt proud, swelling almost inside with content that Shinsou grew to become sociable in his own way. However, your eyes turned towards the duo across the hall, spotting Shinsou's eye now on you, sipping his punch from the cup he held. Your shoulders stiffened at his gaze, turning your eyes away from him in slight embarrassment. No one had noticed your reactions at the table as of yet, however Shinsou's words in your head echoed loudly.

"Enjoyed the show?" He asked in your head, feeling it lower between your shoulders, unsure how to react until a hand calmly rested on your back.

You turned up to find Shinsou now by your side with a smirk on his face, as if he could feel every fibre in your being burn with mortification over your impromptu eavesdropping. The next thing you knew, he took you by the hand, leading you from the table and walking with you around the auditorium, circling the dance floor filled with already jovial fellow alumni.

"We never did dance at our graduation, didn't we?" asked Shinsou, taking your mind from the earlier teasing nature he threw at you so suddenly.

"No, I think we both agreed to stay out of it," you answered, reminiscing the year graduation was underway, filled with already drunken students enjoying the night from years of tutelage.

Shinsou hummed in thought while he clutched onto your arm, your hand in his, until the song slowly turned into a slower tempo, watching the swarm of alumni shift on the floor and the couples taking stage. Still standing outside the ring of the dance floor, Shinsou turned to face you, guiding your hand onto his shoulder while he held onto you, soon swaying on the spot irregardless of whoever was watching.

Hitoshi, we should be on the dance floor, you spoke in your head, staring up into his tired yet smiling eyes.

It doesn't matter. We can dance wherever we want, he replied back in your mind, his lopsided smile turning into a small grin.

The both of you shared this moment together, swaying to and fro outside of everybody else, to the tune of your own beat and in each other's company. You melted into Shinsou, while you listened to the beat of his heart in his chest, slow and calm. Shinsou only wrapped you in his arms, content to have you, and yet pondered further on many things. After conversing with Bakugou over the course of his life decisions, at least unexpectedly, Shinsou thought more on the topic at hand. It felt just right for him to make plans.

And he hoped you weren't eavesdropping this time, while his hands trailed up your back, holding you to him.

TENYA IIDA | Belated

The sound of your breath heaved violently in your lungs while you rushed through the streets, every so often weaving past passersby with ease.

Some of the time.

"Hey watch it!"

"Oops, sorry!" You called back with a twirl, adjusting a piece of your outfit while still in motion. Crossing the street yielded catastrophic results, at least for some of the drivers who blared their horns at your seeming obliviousness.

You grinned happily at your anticipation, the excitement brewing in your gut when you spotted the tall white gates ahead belonging to the most prestigious Hero Academy in all of Musatafu. To step foot through those gates felt like a privilege in itself, otherwise it was just general hype over the years staring off into the distance from your school grounds years ago.

Why must you be such a fanatic? No wonder people saw you differently, you thought, shrugging it away until you approached the tall gates, handing your pass for this reunion that most probably was about to proceed with its orientation speech. You bit your lip nervously. After being allowed onto the premises, a little dread crept in your mind that you were going to miss the reason why you were invited.

Your boss, Tenya Iida, was about to make the honorary welcoming speech.

And you were fashionably late.

Now fully dressed despite being a little rough around the edges from your rush through the city from Idaten's agency, you ran with large strides towards Gym Gamma, thankful that you had quickly asked the security guards by the gates the general direction towards the auditorium. You ignored the confused looks of students who were leaving the premises, heaving heavily again until you spotted the fairy lights that decorated the paths.

You chuckled brightly, rekindling some hope that maybe you made it just in time. Perhaps they stalled for a moment, like how cinemas ran advertisements before the commencement of the movie. Maybe they were still mingling about, something you can easily just slip into without anyone knowing the wiser. There were many ways this would end, but surely, once you reached the open doors of the auditorium, you rounded the corner abruptly.

"And safe!" you yelled, suddenly catching wind of the echo of your voice that blasted in the very silent auditorium.

The awkwardness felt so thick that you could potentially slice it with a knife, finding that all eyes were on you by the doors. You slowly peeked into the large room, your eyes immediately drawn towards the podium set up for the night where the two MCs stood - one a voluptuous dark-haired beauty with hair you wished was your own, and the other, your boss, mouth slightly agape while he eyeballed you through his glasses. You cringed at the scene before you cleared your throat, lightly waving at everybody inside before you slowly walked away from the doors, turning to hide from prying eyes.

You couldn't help a groan escape from your throat, head heavy, wondering if that was the exhaustion catching up to you from your rush to get here, or the embarrassment of possibly interrupting the party. Still, you overheard the MCs continue on with their speech, listening into their anecdotes over the course of their school years. It was pleasant to imagine how they coloured their experiences while you leaned against the wall, smiling, listening intently to Iida's regimental tone.

----

Eventually the rising volume of voices and chatter was your queue to enter into the auditorium, less rowdy and out-of-breath than you were earlier. Your eyes darted around in search for Iida, but quickly found your way towards the flurry of tables when a green-haired gentleman called you over - quickly realising it was the Number One Hero, Deku. Your heart skipped inside your ribcage, but you attempted to keep a cool facade, welcomed by the table of Heroes while they led you to your seat right next to Iida's, which was empty.

"Glad you could make it," welcomed the Number One. "We've heard a lot of things about you.."

"Oh, good things I hope?" You questioned nervously.

"Well, I figured your grand entrance was the cherry on top."

That nervousness grew tenfold upon hearing that from the Number One. It only set your mind to wonder what exactly Iida had said about you to others, let alone, and most probably, to all his close friends and classmates.

The churn in your stomach was blatantly difficult to ignore, clutching onto it while you nervously laughed further. "Sorry, I just ran from work to get here. Haven't had a bite to eat since breakfast this morning."

Suddenly, as if by some miracle, a plate appeared in front of you, served with tonight's dinner now lukewarm. The sound of the chair beside you pulled from the table caught your ear until you felt the presence of a large figure sit by your side, his arms crossed in mild frustration.

You knew that judgemental energy anywhere.

"Thanks Tenya," you slowly spoke, eyeing the tall man while he righted his glasses upon the bridge of his nose.

"You're late," he spoke dryly.

"Fashionably."

"Don't start."

"But I was on a roll," you explained with a whine. "I was on the precipice of completing Stage Two!"

"Didn't you call them Phases?"

"Close enough."

"No it isn't. You need to be consistent."

"Is everything all right?" Asked Todoroki, eyeing the both of you next to Midoriya.

"Everything's fine," clarified Iida, clearing his throat in an attempt to redirect the conversation.

"Sorry, I just get excited when I talk about Big Blue," you admitted before you dug into your plate of food.

"Big Blue?" Continued Todoroki, still with an aloof expression despite the question.

"Yeah, she's my baby," you simply replied between gulps of food.

"You named your daughter Big Blue?"

"Uh, Todoroki, I think that's not exactly what they're talking about," clarified Midoriya.

"Big Blue is one of their passion projects back in Idaten's Research and Development," explained Iida with a sigh, eyeing you still gorging on the dinner plate. "It's meant to be used in an emergency, once they've completed the build and preliminary tests."

"It's officially called Belligerent Backup, or BB for short," you emphasized while still trying to be in conversation. "But I like Big Blue better."

Iida pinched the bridge of his nose, exhausted from your high levels of energy and excitement. Aside from the few coffee trips he made to R&D, he hadn't heard much from you coming up to this reunion, cooped up in the workshops at the agency to even take notice of the day and time. He felt lucky that he rescued a plate for you when you surely arrived, seeing as you never made it earlier this evening before doors opened into Gym Gamma.

"You're really passionate about this, huh?" Asked Yaoyoruzu from across the way, recognizing that she was the one that stood next to Iida on stage.

"It's not the act of creating the invention, it's the process and journey along the way that really excites me," you admitted. "Like the one time when I had to test for Tenya's breathing performance, which required having to create a mold of his-"

"Okay that's enough," interrupted Iida, causing a small pout to form on your lips before you finished the rest of your meal.

Despite being close to age, Iida still held rank above you. Of course, being the brother of Tensei Iida, the man behind the formation of the agency, was a good reason why, but that didn't stop Iida's tendency to check on your health every chance he had. The thought of it brought a smile on your face.

Soon the party was underway, you watched the crowd mingle and dance together on the dance floor, spotting many congregate around some key players. Iida made the rounds with you only for you to trap Cellophane in conversation after he discussed his recent happenstance with a certain thief on his patrols as of late. The thought of upgrading his gear was tantalizing.

"Seriously, you need the latest tech to help you out, and I know just the thing," you quipped excitedly.

"Really?" Asked Sero, curious of your suggestion.

"That my friend would be me!" You piped with thumbs pointing at you. "This thief of yours won't have a chance against any tech I make."

"You're sounding a lot like Hatsume."

"Wait, you know her?"

"We all do. She made most of our tech back when we were students."

Slack-jawed from the epiphany, you turned to Iida next to you, your expression hurt and betrayed. "You didn't tell me this!" You shouted, throwing a finger at Iida.

"I thought it wasn't relevant," he replied dryly.

"I need to know these things. How else do I know who I'm up against previously?"

"It's none of your concern."

"Anyway, it'd be great if you swung by Idaten," you suggested while turning to Sero with a smile. "I can solve your dilemma, or at least give you an upper hand." With a flick of your wrist, you handed Sero a business card, complete with your details and the Idaten insignia emblazoned on its stock. You completely ignored the exasperated sigh from Iida behind you.

"Uh... thanks," mused Sero while he took the card from your hand, spotting his eye towards the dance floor. "It was nice meeting you, but I gotta save a friend, sorry."

"Give me a call!" You shouted after, watching the Tape Hero make his way towards the floor, noticing his intention to help Chargebolt who draped over his plus one.

Your eyes drifted around, feeling the heaviness of sleep weigh on your mind before you decided to recite to yourself what you observed. Earphone Jack, the muso who headed the night's entertainment along with her Hero career, enjoyed a night along with her classmates; Uravity, the caring Gravity Hero who had been rising in rank as of late, conversing with Deku; Tsukuyomi, the dark Hero enjoying the night while chaperoning a friend of his by the looks of it, and then-

"What's the progress on BB?" Asked Iida next to you. Your eyes piqued at his voice, spotting his tall frame now with a serious look.

"Oh? Um, she's coming along," you started. "As you know Phase One was a success, but by my calibrations, she needs to have more injection in her acceleration capacitors. Phase Two should be complete in the next couple of days, give or take, depending on how her balance and suspension perform."

"They're Phases now?" Questioned Iida with a quirked brow.

"They've always been Phases," you beamed with a smile, earning an exasperated sigh from Iida. "Although, it would be wise that we test it on the field. I'd need to know exactly how it would function in a live scenario. Dummies would be ineffective in seeing how it would perform."

Iida spotted the serious look on your face, your mind mulling over the quandaries in your head. "How about you test it with me?" He suggested.

"What? No!" You cried with an outburst. "It's meant to be a surprise!"

"Having anyone else in our agency as volunteers to your projects is unwise," explained Iida. "At least I'm aware of BB's project."

"Yeah but that would destroy any usable data on its effectiveness."

"Call it a control group. You'll need to understand how BB works with someone who knows the weapon before improving its capabilities for someone who doesn't. What fun would there be if you don't continue mastering and finessing?"

You eyed Iida, watching his calm smile on his lips. You couldn't disagree when he was being agreeable.

"Fine, I concede," you spoke dryly. "Would you be available by the end of this week for an hour session?"

"It's a date," he replied, squeezing your shoulder tenderly before he opened his arm to you, inviting you to join him while you stared at this invitation.

"Want to meet more of my friends?" He asked smoothly while you took his arm in yours, standing next to the tall man with a grin.

"Why, I do declare Mr. Iida. You are too kind," you jested with a humorous accent.

"Please don't speak like that when I introduce you."

You only beamed at the man with a toothy smile before being chaperoned throughout the reunion, meeting a very drunk Chargebolt hanging off from his plus one still, a demure Shouto with his infamous Sidekick partner, and bypassing Ground Zero without a hello (and probably for the better). After knowing Iida for years back at the agency, he had opened up a part of his world to you, happy to introduce you to the eyes of Pro-Hero Society a little later than ever.

[ripperdaddy]

the viktor vector romance path + ending we deserve

Disclaimer: This is definitely something I came up with in my head. There will be a few instances that are solely made up so it can tie in with the “story.” This is purely fictional; something I wished happened if there was a possible Vik romance 🥰 This is based on my general knowledge of the game & Vik’s life. All gifs + images are from my own personal play through, but wouldn’t be possible without the help of the Appearance Menu Mod, found on Nexus Mods by the creators, MaximiliumM and CtrlAltDaz. And the shirtless Vik mod by the lovely samsnak ♡

It would start after completing the Paid In Full quest where you pay Vik back the eddies you owe him.

I feel like realistically, the general player would have to be at least halfway through the story to have collected enough eddies. I would say that a good point in the story where we can begin the romance is that you’ve already established a connection to Alt and have dealt with the VDB’s.

I think it would be a short side quest like River’s. Vik already plays a big part in the story overall on his own, so I don’t think it’s necessary to make his “side quest” too long. His romance would just be an addition to the ending.

And as much as I would love for him to be a bisexual option for both male/female V, if we’re sticking with the game’s standard with limiting partners to only one kind of partner, he would only be romance-able by a female V with a feminine voice.

V: Finally scrounged up enough eddies to pay you back in full.

Vik: Hold on to ‘em just in case - you need ‘em more than me.

V: I’m not taking them all the way to my grave, Vik. Here. And.. thanks again for doing so much work on me ‘thout ever seein’ an enny.

Vik: That’s what friends are for.

Then, there is an additional option for dialogue to trigger the romance path.

V: Friends? I think you’ve been in and out of my body more than anyone else I’ve hooked up with in Night City.

He laughs, with a coy smile. “Well, can’t argue with you there. Why don’t we take some of these eddies and grab a drink. You know, to celebrate. Catch up on old times. Haven’t seen you round here much lately, kid.”

You agree to meet at the El Coyote Cojo tomorrow evening.

You meet around 9 PM and you are welcomed by the sight of Pepe and Vik at the bar.

V: Nice choice of venue.

Vik: Thought you’d like it. Haven't been here since.. well, you know.

V: I miss him, Vik.

Vik: I know, V. Me too.

You immediately take a seat and tinker with a few dialogue options, where you can either have a sweet moment talking about Jackie or some surface questions to ask, like how he’s doing, what kind of drink he likes, etc. But it all winds down to Jackie anyway, where Vik confides in you about his past. Judging by how Vik was so affected by Jackie’s death, and V’s (if you chose the suicide ending), you can tell that he has lost a lot in his life, and keeps his circle very small.

You then achieve an even closer, more personal relationship with him. But, ultimately nothing happens other than the usual, wait 24 hours in game for a text/phone call from Vik to head into the next stage. At least now, you have established the foundation for a future romance.

Halfway through the 24 hour period, you get a text from Vik thanking you for the lovely evening. No reply needed, as he calls you once the 24 hour mark hits and invites you out for another date.

You meet at Tom’s Diner for coffee in the afternoon. It starts off with him apologizing for being emotional the previous night and asks if you’re open to hanging out again and going down to Pacifica to watch a fight with him.

Vik: Hey, V. I just wanted to apologize about last night. I didn’t mean to be such a downer.

V: It’s okay, Vik. We share the same grief.

Vik: I was going to head down to Pacifica and catch a real good match later on today. I was wondering if you’d like to come along, think it’d be great for the both of us, you know, as a distraction.

pssst even Johnny’s rooting for y’all ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Johnny: Hmm, interesting.

V: What?

Johnny: Never thought you'd be going out with this guy.

V: Vik's amazing. And I mean--we basically owe it to him since he practically saved our life.

Johnny: Don't tell me you're going out with him out of pity.

V: I'm not.

Johnny: I know, I can feel you get all mushy-gushy. It's almost repulsive. Just wanted to hear you admit it.

V: Eat a dick, Johnny.

You arrive before the GIM and blend into the crowd.

V: Nothin’ like watching guys beat the shit out of each other to get your blood pumpin’, huh?

Vik: This is a real good matchup, V. This kid’s fresh, young talent.

V: You miss it, don’t you?

Before the fight begins, Vik shares a story about his time in the ring and coming in second in the Watson Boxing Grand Prix.

There’s some extra fun options in the dialogue, you can bet some eddies on who’s gonna win, or side with him. The fight ends, and you two head outside.

Since you’re already out in Pacifica, you head over to the boardwalk (where you would ride the roller coaster with Johnny) and he starts telling you about the last days of his boxing career and how he transitioned from the sport to being a ripperdoc.

You both share a sweet moment with each other, reminiscing about old times and talking about V’s future with the relic. This is where I would see Vik confessing how he feels about you, mentioning how grateful he is for Jackie introducing you to him.

The evening ends and Vik asks you to give him some time to try and dig up some footage from his storage and have you come over to watch. You can kiss him then wait another 24 in game hours before the last quest. Halfway through, he texts you and asks you what you’d like for dinner. You can opt for pizza or chinese.

I haven’t seen or read anything about how or where Vik lives. If I overlooked something, please let me know! But for the sake of the story, let’s say he does actually have his own place that’s now introduced in the game. Personally, I think he has a typical bachelor pad, like a really nice apartment. Not too far from his clinic either. He looks like he would just walk to work. Vik definitely has a lot of money, but he’s so humble I doubt he would choose to live lavishly. As mentioned in the beginning, he typically just “sleeps nights” ever since he was over “being a legend” so I’m guessing his lifestyle is very routine. He goes to work, goes home, sleep. Seems unlikely he has a place like the Peralez’s. It would probably be just the same as V’s but decorated to his taste.

The evening comes and you are over at his place. He’s dressed in just a white undershirt, no exo-glove. You get to know more about his family, how he grew up — scanning things around his place. Then he plays some footage of one of his fights for you, while you two have a conversation and share a beer. As you two sit on the couch, you get close, then have an opportunity to kiss him.

then this is where da sex happen hihihi (ノ・ω・)ノ

The next morning you wake up and you two have a heartfelt conversation about where this is going. He already knows your situation, so I would assume he is very accepting and supportive. And with Vik, he seems like the kind of guy who would still want to be in your life and keep the friendship the same way despite no longer being together romantically. So it’s official. He’s your man 🥵 !!11!1!

Like how River gives you the “fuck the police” tank top after sleeping with him, I think Vik would give you his Night City Devils t-shirt that provides you with a significant amount of armor or some kind of cyberware upgrade that makes you invulnerable for a brief moment while using your hands to fight enemies.

Note: I was thinking of Vik giving V his boxing glove necklace, but because it's part of his character's appearance in the game, I don't think we would be able to essentially "take it" from him - unless he gives you a replica as a keepsake. Which I think would also work.

If you successfully romance, during the rooftop scene near the end of Nocturne OP55N1 (despite Vik’s disposition of him telling you to take matters in your own hands and being a little closed off), you still have an option to reach out to him when Johnny advises you to call a loved one.

V: Hey, Vik. I just wanted to say, thanks for hanging with me, until the end.

Vik: Quit talking like it is, V. Just do what you need to do.

V: I mean, think of it. It’s like I’m heading into the last round of this whole thing.

Vik: Well, in that case.. remember—keep your hands up, guarded at all times. It ain’t over just yet.

V: Heh.. I can feel it, just a few more punches.

Vik: Now look at you - the new welterweight champ of Night City.

V: Thanks, coach.

Vik: Last piece of advice from the coach's corner. Just.. be careful, kid. Remember, I’m with you.

Okayyyy, soooo I’m not the biggest fan of how CDPR gave us two of the same endings (Path of Glory). The only difference is that Rogue’s life is spared. I would have assumed that not only would we get to keep Rogue around, things should have played a bit more differently for V if we took the route of going solo against the corpos. So let’s tweak it.

This specific ending; it should be after getting through Don’t Fear The Reaper where you single-handedly manage to rip through Arasaka by yourself. Johnny goes back to Alt & Rogue is still alive. Yes nobody dies!!!

(honestly this ending can apply to any love interest you choose)

Vik and V are now living together in a lavish penthouse, entertaining an upcoming merc to do their work for them (which is now the current POV of the player.) You were recruited by Rogue at the Afterlife, who told you to visit this couple for a real, preem job.

They give you some vague details about the gig and go on for a brief moment about what you will be doing and what you should expect. Vik emphasizes to you that it’s important you get what they need because it’s for his wife, V, as her life depends on it.

As Never Gonna Fade Away is playing in the background, they tell you to break into Arasaka HQ.

Then the game officially ends.

[baepsaetan]

Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) - Jungkook

Summary: You miss him so much, but it seems like getting to spend time with Jungkook is going to take a Christmas miracle.

Ao3 Link: here 

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader, side Namgi

Length: 17.6k

Rating: Mature

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

Warnings: Suspicions of cheating, misunderstandings, panic attack, suggestive content, swearing

A/N: Oooof I am finally done my Secret Santa fic for @thebtswritersclub​ and only - *checks calendar* - too late. So sorry this is so late @jjeongukkie​! It got so much longer than I had planned, and while I had a lot of fun writing it, I did not plan it quite well enough to finish in a timely fashion. Still, I hope you’re able to enjoy a last blast of Christmas vibes and fluff and angst as you slide into 2021! Thank you for your patience, and I hope you have an awesome new year! 

I always appreciate all likes, reblogs and comments! If you enjoy reading this, send me an ask! Happy belated New Year to everyone! 

---

“You’re not coming home now?”

Even as you say it, you’re vaguely surprised you manage to get the words out. Your lips are numb with shock and disappointment, and Jungkook’s wince on the screen of your phone just makes the feeling even more jarring. More painful.

“I’m sorry,” he says, half pleading and half desperate. “It’s just, this project is so important, and we need to have it ready for rollout…”

Throat tight, the fingers of your free hand pushing into your thigh, you adjust the phone with your other before saying thickly, “You said it would be a few hours in the morning, Jungkook. It’s – it’s Christmas."

"I know, I know, I just..."

He’s still speaking, quick and anxious words about necessity and pressure, and while you’re listening, you’re thinking about the cute lingerie sitting next to you on the bed. You'd been planning a little gift for him when he got home, and when he'd surprised you with a Facetime request, you'd pulled them out of the drawer, thinking it might be a fun little tease to give him a flash of the red and black set. Now, though...

"Hey, Y/N, I'm sorry. Really." Biting at his lip, Jungkook somehow manages to look a bit pitiful, even with the dress shirt he's wearing, ironed to sharp definition. The collar of the black shirt is open, sans a tie – he’d mentioned this morning no one cared about perfect business attire while working over Christmas – and the bare curve of his collarbone just adds to the disjointed clash of his clean outfit compared to his dejected expression.

The look has your throat closing even more, and you try to force a smile. You're well aware of how stressful the new position has been for your long time boyfriend, seen the casualties of the job; late night arrivals at the apartment, distracted eyes while making and eating dinner, forehead creased with frustration every time his phone vibrates, fatigue that throws him into sleep before you and he have really even had any time to talk together. He's also been hitting the gym almost religiously lately, another outlet for stress, and while you love Jungkook's enthusiasm for staying active, two sessions a day, every day, is excessive for him. It also eats into what little opportunity is left for you two to spend time with each other.

But he's doing his best. You know that. You're sure of it. And he promised it would get better, soon.

Soon. So, you swallow the disappointment, and the thing that’s more dangerous, simmering below it and too perilously close to anger. You hitch on a smile, and hope it doesn't look quite as forced as it feels. "I get it, Kookie. I'm just sorry you have to work for so long. Will you be back in time for dinner?"

He hesitates, teeth still sawing into his lower lip as he jiggles his head indecisively and the camera frame shifts a bit. "I'm not sure but – probably?" Your expression must sink just as much as your stomach does, despite your best efforts, because Jungkook immediately grimaces, his hands making desperate little waves of abortive denial. "I mean, I will. For sure. I'll be home, okay?"

When he flashes a thumbs up, deliberately and extravagantly enthusiastic, you can't help but smile, just a tentative lift of your lips. "Just – I love you, Kookie. I hope we get to spend some of Christmas together."

"We will! Promise." Both hands are up now, clenched into eager fists under his chin, and he really couldn't look more earnest if he tried.

The smile comes a bit easier now, and you nod, feeling some of that enthusiasm reaching through the screen. "Okay." Taking a deep breath, you try to redirect the conversation, too painfully aware that sulking isn't going to help at all. "Have you eaten lunch yet? Don't miss it just for your stupid boss!"

His grin is a small, toothy thing. "Nah, I haven't. I –"

"Jungkook!"

"I was saving room for when I got home!"

"Hah! You think there's going to be food on the table for you?" This bickering is so much easier than anything else that you might say, and you fall into it with something like relief.

His eyebrows fall, nose scrunching dramatically. "On the table? Y/N, that's so unsanitary."

"So unsanitary...?"

At your puzzled look, the grossed out expression whirls away, replaced with a smirk that's so abruptly suggestive that you find your breath catching. The way his voice drops, becoming a low hum, just concentrates the effect. "I was saving room for you, of course. But I'm not gonna eat you out on the table, baby."

You huff in scornful incredulity, but it can't take back the fact that you almost choked a second ago. It also doesn't really hide the way your cheeks have heated up into a patchy red, and besides, Jungkook knows you too well. If anything, his smirk just gets even sharper, and he adds playfully, "Unless you have it on your wish list. Then I might consider it."

Fucking around with Jungkook on any surface is absolutely on your wish list, but you're too proud and currently too annoyed to tell him that. "With my luck, it would break trying to hold up your inflated ego."

"My inflated muscles, you mean," he says, and flexes. Which is just so obnoxious, and also the long sleeve hides his arms too well to be truly impressive.

"Do that again when you get home," you order imperiously, and immediately he bows his head.

"You got it, boss," he agrees, and it's that easy, sudden switch, that flexibility, that's at least part of the reason you love him so much. Jungkook is what you need him to be; he's always been comfortable with that role, and your flighty ass needs him in so many different ways. He's never failed you in that respect. Well – not much. You need him with you right now, after all.

Want, you remind yourself sternly. You want him, that's all.

Abruptly he stiffens, turns slightly. You hear someone speaking off camera, high and strained, and Jungkook replies in a confident voice, talking about something you don't have enough information on to fully understand. They have a short conversation before Jungkook says, "I'll be over in a moment, okay?"

Then he's turning back to you, the by now familiar crease back between his eyes. "I've got to go now, Y/N. I'll get out of here as quickly as I can, okay?"

"Okay. Love you, Kookie. And try to eat something."

He nods, curter now, already turning away from the camera. "See you soon."

And you're left with a call ended screen and no reciprocal "love you". The flicker of warmth that had been blooming in your stomach wilts until there's nothing but a cold tightness left. For a few minutes you scroll aimlessly through your apps and messages, fingers restless for something the phone can't give. There are too many Merry Christmas posts, too many pics of friends and family having a good time together with gifts and food, and it grows the hurt in your gut. You and Jungkook had decided not to travel to any of your families' gatherings, to save some money this year after a big and expensive move, but that had been with the assumption that you would be able to take comfort in each other. Now...

Before too long, you give up, toss the phone aside. It lands next to the lingerie, and for the time being you leave them both alone, suddenly anxious to get away from the remote device and the painful reminder both. Your apartment isn't large, and it only takes you a few steps to leave the bedroom and head to the kitchen. You spend several moments milling around there, but you've already prepped everything for dinner tonight; the only thing left to do is the dishes from this morning's simple breakfast, eaten long after Jungkook had already bolted his and left. You clean them with desultory effort, trying not to remember that you and your boyfriend had planned to make something fancy together. The restless feeling doesn't leave with the dishes done, and you check, doublecheck and triplecheck everything before you're even halfway to feeling like this part of the apartment might not need anything else.

The living room, attached to the kitchen, has been decorated with reckless abandon. You've got at least an ounce of beauty aesthetic in your bones, and so does Jungkook, but for some reason when put together it equals a pound of ugly. The tinsel – red, gold, silver, and green – is flung about the room over pretty much any surface that will support it, along with red and green lights. The Christmas decorations are a hideous mash up of whatever you and Kookie have scrounged together from your families or garage sales or cheap outlet malls, plus a few modest clay additions of your own making. Several of the larger succulents and other plants are bowed morosely under the weight of ambitious ornaments, and the cactus on the windowsill looks positively garish with a star perched jauntily on its crown.

And you love it all so much.

Remembering the absolutely wild hour or so that you and Jungkook spent together decorating the apartment – such a rare and precious moment, since you moved here – makes your eyes start prickling with unbidden tears. Jungkook's staggering workload hadn't been so bad, while you were working; acting as a long distance design consultant for a large collection of homegrown companies tended to keep you busy, and you hadn't noticed his absence in a way that demanded you address it. Now, though, with Christmas an enforced break, since none of your suppliers or other contacts will reply to emails, your loneliness curls itself up in your chest, all barbs and agitation. You’re beginning to suspect that maybe the long absences have hurt you more than you thought.

One of your projects is on the coffee table, the spread of files and print outs of possible designs covering the worn surface. You've always preferred working with physical copies for the initial stages, moving to a tablet for more detailed work. You fling yourself onto the couch, telling yourself you might as well do something productive and hoping it might provide a distraction. That lasts for about half an hour, but it's a constant fight to keep your thoughts on the papers in front of you. The unhappiness is curdling your concentration, and more and more you're aware of a simmering resentment, sharp and insistent under your sadness.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. There'd been so little conflict about moving when Jungkook got the job offer. You were already working remotely, and while the pay increase at Jungkook's new company wasn't that much, it was the promise of what could come that made it nearly impossible to turn down. Saying goodbye to your family hadn't been an issue; you were already living in a different city than them, settled there after university. It had been harder for your boyfriend, but not impossible, and despite both of you leaving friends behind, you'd left with excitement. Hope. The future opening up before you two, together.

With a sigh, you shove the papers away. Leave the living room and take shelter on your bed. Send and reply to some Christmas messages. Make a face at the snap Jin sends you, a little blurry, his flushed cheeks matching the red reindeer antler headband he's wearing. He's holding the gifts you sent several weeks ago, an adorable pair of windup salt and pepper shakers shaped like teddy bears that can walk across the table, along with a few duck-shaped strainers. The caption makes you snort. I'm bearly making it without you, sis. I'm like a duck out of water. The next snap is clearer, of him and his two roommates, Jimin and Hoseok, all making heart signs. Thanks for the gifts! Hope you have a Merry Christmas!

He's in the same city as your parents, and you know he spent yesterday with them. Looks like he's having a great time with his roommates, too. Before the affection can sour, you save the photo and put your phone down again.

Kitchen, living room, bedroom. A discontented circuit you don't know how to break yourself out of. It feels so dumb to be making yourself even more miserable like this. You should phone one of the few friends who aren't with their families, or maybe your parents – hell, you could even phone Jin, he and his roommates would be sure to talk with you for an hour or two. But the thought of admitting you're alone, Jungkook having chosen work over spending the holiday with you, has your shame rising to scalding levels. The mere prospect of hearing and seeing everyone happy while you’re alone is another hurt, one that makes you curl up more tightly on the bed, clutching his pillow to your chest like it could fill up the hollowness settled in your lungs. Just like all of the sheets, it has his scent, light and flowery and soft, and it inspires an aching, cloying feeling that isn't really close enough to comfort, but you hold it tighter anyways.

The day drags on like that, swamps of self-pity drained by bursts of frantic activity. You clean up a bit more, work on a project, watch some TV. And then the rush of drowning loneliness fills up your lungs again and you're reduced to more aimless pining.

By three, with no texts from Jungkook and the need to start cooking soon looming large on the horizon, you send him a message. Hey. Gonna be home soon?

About half an hour later, you add a ? that still gets no immediate reply, and agitated tension has you wondering if you should call him. But what if you interrupt something? Get him in trouble? Worrying the thoughts ragged in your head, you resolve to give it just a little more time. Hell, for all you know, maybe he’s on his way home now.

At around four, your phone starts vibrating. Not a Facetime request, this time, but the name that pops up is welcome all the same. You answer almost breathlessly. "Hey Kookie!"

"Hey Y/N."

Right away you know this isn't the kind of phone call you were hoping for. Jungkook's voice is gravelly and tired, more like a bruise than a sound. Your shoulders slump, and you can't find it in yourself to say anything.

Your boyfriend tentatively breaks the silence a moment later. "Y/N, I'm sorry. Things are spilling over and I'm not going to be able to leave for awhile longer."

"..."

"Y/N? Are you -"

"How much longer?"

You can practically hear the wince. "I'm not sure yet."

"Jungkook..." But once again, the words catch in your throat, trapped by just how ungrateful and immature you feel.

"Look, Y/N, I was thinking. Maybe, if I come home too late, we can move dinner to tomorrow? I'm definitely going to be home all day, so we can have a nice breakfast and dinner and maybe open our presents and..." There's nothing in the quiet between you two. Certainly not your agreement. "I know I messed up and that this isn't fair to you, Y/N, and I'm sorry. Maybe – couldn't we just... reset? Start Christmas for real tomorrow?"

"Reset?" you repeat. "Like – what, like one of your video games?" The swampy depression is bubbling now, surging with the outrage that's been building all day.

"No, that's not -"

"We can't just reset, Jungkook. This isn't a level you get to just do over!"

"I know that, that isn't what I meant, you're -"

"I've been waiting here all day, Jungkook! By myself! Just waiting here for you! Do you get how bad that makes me feel?"

Jungkook sounds choked when he replies, though it's hard to tell if it's from guilt or anger. "I know I've made you wait, and I'm sorry. But the project -"

"I don't care about the fucking project! You should have told them to fuck off when they asked you to work!" You're full on shouting now, eyes stinging with tears, the sound tearing from your throat. "This has been the worst Christmas I've ever had, and you just want me to forget about it?"

His voice doesn't get louder. If anything, it gets quieter, smaller, coiling in on itself into a tight mass. "Do you think I'm having a good time? I've been working since 8:00 on Christmas day! It's not like I asked to come in, and they barely gave me a choice! I'm the junior here, do you think they would have been okay with me shrugging today off?"

"Today? Today?" Your laugh sounds too cruel, even to your own ears. "It hasn't just been today, Jungkook! This is just – more of the same! More ditching me – ditching us – for work. For some stupid reason I thought that you might consider Christmas an important enough day to knock it off for just one fucking second. But I guess not."

"I'm doing this for us! For – I told you how much work it was going to be! I thought you'd be okay with it!"

"And I thought there might be a tiny little exception made for Christmas. I guess we were both wrong!" you spit furiously.

There's a pause, heavy with the sound of both of your staggered breathing. You're too angry to regret what you've said – or at least, to acknowledge how much you regret it – and the bewildered hurt is travelling straight to your head, leaving you dazed and disconnected. Could Jungkook really have thought you were okay with what's been happening? Okay with being left alone for what feels like months now? How can you be listening to his tense exhales and still not understand the person on the other end of this call?

"I'm sorry, Y/N." Too polite, too gentle by far. Where the hell did he get off sounding like that? You know that's Jungkook – that he's far more likely to shutdown during an argument, to close off – but it leaves you clashing against air. No opposing force to clamp down on your own anger.

Heaving in a sharp exhale, shaking your head even though he can't see it, you say, "Do what you want, Jungkook. I'm not making the dinner if you're not leaving right now."

"Y/N..."

"Merry Christmas." You hang up.

It feels horrible. The phone is a dead weight in your hand, the anger an even heavier weight in your heart. You make a fractured noise, a frustrated scream that quickly trails into a barely checked sob. If you felt bad before talking to Jungkook, it's nothing compared to the mix of self-recriminations and resentment assaulting you now. He was just - why did he have to - why couldn't he -

Why did I have to say that to him?

You know Jungkook. How hard working he is, how dedicated, how keenly he wants to do well in front of and for others. He isn't working late because he doesn't want to see you; you're sure of that. It's just an inability to say no to his superiors. And... and you really haven't told him how unhappy you are with how often he's away.

But still. Couldn't he figure it out? Did you need to spell out your misery for him to get it? Is that really what your relationship amounts to?

Another aggravated exhale parts your lips, and you start pacing faster, needing the release. The next few hours stretch in front of you with wretched promise. What do you do now? Just wait by yourself until he gets home? Have to see his ashamed, hurt, averted eyes, the way he would creep into the apartment with a shield set between you and him? And then what? Go to bed with that block between you two, wake up and somehow try to pretend it doesn't exist tomorrow?

The tears flow down your cheeks despite your hands’ furious attempts to press them away and there's no way to stop them once they've begun. You cry, the way people often cry when they’re lonely, like silence is their only companion and they're afraid of scaring even that friend away. Quietly, then, no longer trying to hold the tears back but unable to give voice to the magnitude of your pain, either. The wet, soft sobbing quickly sends you back to bed, where you curl up once again, struggling for some kind of self-control.

God, you just miss him so much. Not today, not now, not – it's a void of the little things. The snicker when you berate him for being messy. His warm, gentle hands on your neck after a day hunched over a project, massaging out the pain. A little giggle as you watch a Ghibli film together. The shoving matches when you're out shopping and competing for who can get the most stuff on the list. The quick kisses and the slow kisses and the deep, hungry kisses that always lead to you waking up in his arms the next day, far later into the morning than usual.

You miss him so much, and you just pushed him away even more.

With a muffled sob you push your face further into the pillow, hating how pitiful this is, how much you're struggling to get your emotions under control. This is so – it's ridiculous, that's what it is. Childish. It's not as if you've lost Jungkook forever, and you haven't lost all of the things you love about him, either. It's not like you never goof off anymore, or cuddle, or talk. It's just – it's just that everything has been so much more frantic, hurried, and stressful since the move. It seems like there's never a moment where you can just sit together and love each other and think of nothing else.

The anger, remorse and dejection feed off each other, first growing and prolonging the wrenching feeling choking your throat, and you cry until time doesn’t mean much anymore. The grief is so horribly thick it’s like you can’t even breathe through it, let alone do anything but lie in bed. It goes on and on and – and then exhaustion overtakes your convulsive crying. Eventually, without ever actually being filled, the hollow ache contracts into a hard pit, the tears all forced out. Nothing else, though. The guilt and resentment and sadness are still there, dulled to a grey, insubstantial mass.

But at least you can think a bit. Listlessly, with all the colours drained out of it, but you can do more than sob. Wiping at your clogged nose and tear-streaked face, you find you can actually breathe, something of an improvement. You sit up, gently set the pillow back on Jungkook's side of the bed, giving the soft material one last swipe, trying to rid it of the wet evidence of your meltdown. No luck there, but it'll probably be dry before your boyfriend gets home.

If he gets home.

The bitterness of that thought is too tired to summon more tears from the hole in your heart or your head. You shake it away, more because you're just too drained to cling to the heavy emotion than because of some angelic impulse to forgive.

You know you have to do something. Anything. Literally anything will be better than just sitting here, waiting for Jungkook to come in, getting pricklier with each passing minute. With the Christmas dinner off the table, you suppose you could just pick up something to eat. Fast-food or something... have it ready for him to heat up when he was done work... like you're some trophy girlfriend.

Once again you need to stop yourself, biting back the wave of resentment. God, this isn't doing you any good, and it's so, so unfair to Jungkook. Yeah, maybe he shouldn't have agreed to work on Christmas. Maybe he should have been more sensitive to how far you've been drifting apart because of his long work hours. But at the same time, yelling at him over the phone wasn't the answer, either. He's probably having as bad of a time as you are, and with no private room to cry in, either. He'll be totally repressing the argument now, shoving it into a locker and subconsciously telling himself he's to blame, that he's a horrible boyfriend. Trying to listen to his coworkers and do his work with those harsh criticisms running low and dark through his head. That's how Jungkook is. He takes everything onto himself, especially if you give it to him.

Running your hands through your hair at the thought, pity clenching your chest, you abruptly get up. You and Jungkook definitely need to talk, and soon. But – but there's no reason to close out this shitty day with an even more horrible evening of strained silence and brittle rebuttals. Neither of you are particularly good at apologizing, even though you're both great at feeling guilty. You just don't have the words for it. So, unless you do something – make some gesture – this is just going to stretch into an awful, prolonged fight that isn't a fight at all, both of you retreating from each other.

It's unbearable. You can't stand it. So… you're going to do something about it.

Resolved, as resolved as you can be, you change out of your PJs. The weather's been quite warm, with no snow to speak of, so it's not like you need to bundle up much. After a moment of hesitation, you choose to snag the ugly Christmas sweater. It's got a comically drawn pink bunny on the front, absurdly muscular, with a red Santa hat settled firmly between its ears, and a myriad of red and green patterns crammed into the background. It was the rabbit's expression and the accompanying phrase that had got Jungkook to laughing until he was doubled over when he'd seen it at the mall last year. A challenging, almost intimidating grin is plastered on the rabbit's face, with the words This Bun Don't Want None in cheerfully bedazzled white underneath. Your boyfriend had quite literally begged to get two and wear them to the upcoming Christmas party, and he'd been too imploring for you to say no.

Slipping it on, with the accompanying memory of his hysterical amusement, crinkled nose, and bunny grin every time he caught a glimpse of you at the party, is the closest you've felt to peace in the last few hours.

You throw on some dark jeans and apply your makeup with a thoroughness that's a little much, given that you're not going anywhere for long. You don't care; it feels good to dim the red-rimmed eyes and splotchy cheeks your breakdown has gifted you, to cover it over with something prettier. Finishing with the last of the mascara, you grab your transit pass and head out, closing the door behind you with a finality that could almost be a goodbye.

The air outside is cool, a relief compared to the stuffy apartment, at least for now. You inhale deeply, the mild cold burning your sinuses and clearing your clogged head a bit. In a while, you might regret not having a warmer layer on, but for now it’s a relief to begin to walk, to stretch both your legs and your mind from the cramped defensiveness the apartment had been inspiring. This is – this is a good idea. You’re positive about it now, and can feel your shoulders loosening, steps becoming brisker.

If Jungkook can’t come to you – well, you’ll just go to him. At least for now.

Your building isn't too far from Jungkook's work; you only have a short train ride and a shorter bus ahead of you, according to your phone. You’ve been to his work three times before, but always in your shared car, and you walk with eyes fixed on your screen, calculating the time schedules. Part of you wants to text him, send a little olive branch to smooth the way and let him know you’re coming, but a larger part longs for something romantic and cute to happen today. Fast-food might not quite cut it, but surely a surprise visit might? You won’t stay long, won’t interrupt his work, but just to see his face, confused and then quietly grateful and loudly gleeful when he realizes why you’ve come –

It seems like that shouldn’t be too much to ask.

The trip flies by; you're too anxious in your own head to notice much outside of it, and besides, there aren't many people out and about today. Probably busy celebrating with their families.

You bite your lip at the thought, and violently yank your attention away.

At this rate, you should sign up for a game of Olympic tag. Surely nothing can run as agilely as you've been doing, avoiding every uncomfortable idea.

Jungkook's work is downtown, and there are tons of fast-food options nearby. You pick a smaller chain, KTown Fried Chicken, that both you and Jungkook enjoy. It's hard to convince yourself the cashier isn't judging you at least a little bit for your weird presence on Christmas night. Or maybe she's just eyeing the sweater. That’s another possibility.

With only one other person in line, the food comes quickly, and then you're on your way. Somewhere between stepping off the bus and smiling awkwardly at the girl behind the counter, it occurred to you that you didn't know when Jungkook was actually leaving work. He obviously didn't pack up right away after your argument – he would have made it home before you left – but that doesn't mean he isn't going to be heading home some time soon.

What if you show up and he's not there? What if he shows up and you're not there? What would he think? It is entirely too much to ask your wrung out brain to decide if it would be hilarious, infuriating, or some kind of karmic justice, but you do know that you'd rather just catch him at work with this peace offering. Much simpler that way, so you hurry your steps, snugging your sweater a little tighter around your frame as you do so.

You make it to the imposing office building of Projeck at around six, which is, as it happens, when two of Jungkook’s coworkers are leaving the building. Jungkook talks about them quite a bit – actually, gushes might be a better word – and you’d met them at the office Christmas party a couple of weeks ago. Namjoon, a tall, elegant man with blonde hair currently dressed in a black turtleneck, is one of the lead game designers, and he holds the door open for Yoongi, an audio engineer. The older of the two, in an oversized, comfy hoodie markedly at odds with his companion’s attire, slouches through with a tired smile of thanks.

Both had made a good impression on you at the party (it helped that they were obviously fond of Jungkook and appreciative of his talents) and you’re a little relieved to see them. Solved the awkwardness of trying to get into the building without letting Jungkook know you were here. Both pause at the sight of you, confusion creasing their features, before a grin flashes across Namjoon’s face.

“Hey, Y/N! Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas,” offers Yoongi as well, shoving his hands into the pockets of the hoodie he’s wearing. His eyes are on your chest, a little furrow across his brow, and it takes you a second to realize it’s the bunny again. After a moment his lips quirk, quiet amusement in the expression, and it makes it easier for you to reply brightly.

“Hey Namjoon, Yoongi. Merry Christmas! Are you heading home?” The prospect makes you a little excited. If they’re leaving, surely Jungkook won’t be far behind?

“Yup,” Namjoon agrees easily. His head tilts a little, scouring over you quizzically, before his gaze finds the bag in your hand. “Are you bringing something for Kookie?”

“Yeah… He, uh, was working so late I thought it might be nice to surprise him with some food.” You say it more like a confession, shoulders tight with the knowledge that this is making you sound way better than you actually are.

Namjoon whistles, eyes widening. “Wow, that’s really nice of you.”

“I mean, I haven’t done much today so –”

“He’s not here.” Yoongi states it so bluntly that it takes you a second to process what he said.

“…not here?” you ask, dismayed.

“Nah.” As your stunned eyes fall on him, giving him your full attention, he shrugs uncomfortably. “I’m sorry. He left like… twenty minutes ago?”

“He did?” Namjoon demands, and Yoongi just shrugs again.

Clutching at the paper bag that suddenly feels pathetic and cheap, a stupid idea, you say weakly, “Oh.” You don’t know what else to say, and both of the men’s expressions are soft with a sympathy that doesn’t make you feel any less stupid. “I guess… I’ll go home, then.”

Shifting again, a movement that has him brushing briefly against Namjoon, Yoongi trails a hand up to his ear. “Uh, I don’t think he was going home? Or at least, not right away?”

"What do you mean?" Maybe he'd mentioned he was stopping to pick up dinner, too? Maybe the fast-food you're lugging around is even more useless than you'd thought? Why hadn't you texted him? Why hadn't you -

"He was asking me about the fastest way to get to, uh, the Golden Closet Gallery. I think he was dropping by there first."

"Did - did he say why?"

"Meeting someone? Maybe? I dunno, he's been quiet almost all day, and he rushed away pretty quick."

You stare at him, tired and confused and more than a little guilty at the mention of Jungkook’s withdrawn state. What are you supposed to make of all this? You know about the Golden Closet Gallery – of course you do. You and he went a couple times, early on after your move here, both of you taking a lot of enjoyment from the art displays. But – it couldn't be open now, could it? And even if it were, why would he be going? Who could he possibly be meeting? Was he trying to take a late tour to calm down? Something else entirely? And – it didn't even matter. It wasn't as though you could reach him in a timely manner.

You were just going to have to go back home, and – you weren’t sure. Certainly not eat. The thought of trying to swallow any food right now, with your stomach tearing itself into pieces of shivering disappointment, is too much. Maybe Jungkook would already be at the apartment by the time you got there. Maybe you two could just – sit together. Just be together.

You’re not sure what’s sadder; how much happiness that simple picture gives you, or how sad you are that it makes you happy.

Trying to straighten your crumpled expression, you smile. "Well – thank you for letting me know. Guess I get all of this for myself." Your laugh as you heft the fast-food bag is a small and lost thing. "Sorry to keep you guys. I hope you have a good night!"

You've just begun to turn away, aching to end the conversation before you start bawling in front of these two men, when Namjoon clears his throat, his gaze shifting to Yoongi for a moment. The other man jerks a shoulder, bobs his head, and Namjoon looks back at you. You shuffle a little, desperate to be away but not wanting to be rude to two of the few people at this company who actually seem to be lessening Jungkook's stress.

"Did you take the bus to get here? We could give you a ride if you wanted."

Your throat tightens, and you're already shaking your head before you've even thoroughly processed the offer. "No, thanks, I don't want to take you out of your way."

"Well, if you wanted to drop by the Gallery and see if Kookie is there, it wouldn't be out of our way at all. We live pretty close by." Yoongi nods in agreement, his round face scrunching reassuringly with something that's not – quite – a smile.

When you waver, Namjoon says with studied nonchalance, "Even if he's not there, Yoongi and I don't have any plans for tonight. We don't mind dropping you off."

Still, the thought of inconveniencing them because of your stupid planning – not to mention that you don't know them that well – makes awkward turmoil roil in your stomach. Reading your reluctant expression and apparently hesitant to press you, Namjoon relents. “Well, if you’re sure…”

“Y/N. Come on. We’ll save you a lot of time, and I’m sure Jungkookie would be mad if we didn’t give you the ride. He already throws stuff at me when he thinks I’m not looking; I don’t want him to start chucking shit that actually hurts.” Yoongi’s eyebrow is lifted, an inviting gesture accompanied by a smile with just a hint of gums, and you can’t help but respond, a rueful chuckle that slips out at the picture his comment puts in your head.

Jungkook had mentioned there were a few people he liked to mess around with at work, but somehow it hadn’t crossed your mind that the quiet and slightly intimidating man would be one of his targets.

It decides you.

With a sharp dip of your head, you assent. "Okay, okay. Yeah, sure, and thank you guys. It means a lot to me, and, umm, if you need gas money or something..."

Namjoon throws back his head and utters a loud, barking laugh while Yoongi chuckles. "The company doesn't pay us enough, sure, but I think we can afford to cover this trip, Y/N. Besides, Jungkook's been working overtime so often, I feel like we practically owe you for stealing him so much."

That leaves a sour taste in your mouth that you're quick to swallow. Grinning weakly, you follow the two to their car, a compact grey Honda that's seen better days. Namjoon tries to insist you take shotgun next to Yoongi, but you're far too flustered at the thought of taking his spot and practically dive into the backseat. The first few minutes are a little strained, the fast-food bag on your lap rustling every time you move. Namjoon shuffles through a bunch of Christmas songs on his phone and Yoongi hums to them under his breath, seemingly unperturbed every time his companion switches mid-note.

Eventually, though, Namjoon finds a song he likes enough to leave on, and you find yourself drawn into a relaxed talk with them. Yoongi throws in a comment here and there, and together the two of them are so – easy. They add teasing remarks about each other without pausing for breath, Yoongi praises an arching plotline Namjoon had finished storyboarding today, and when a particularly loud Christmas jangle comes on, Namjoon's already changing it before Yoongi has time to huff in displeasure. You know they're roommates – more than that Jungkook hasn't said – and there's something uplifting about listening to their comfortable conversation.

They don't leave you out of it, either. You talk about your home city. You talk about how you met Jungkook in university, when you both arrived late to a morning Intro to Computer Animation course and were locked out of the classroom as a result. (You'd whispered furiously at each other about who should knock first until another hectic student had come charging up, bleary with sleep, and literally ran into the door when it failed to open. That had pretty much dissolved the tension between you two.) On a wave of laughter from that story, you tentatively ask how the job has been for Jungkook so far.

He's always so keen to hide his stress, so anxious not to talk about it and burden you. It seems like these two coworkers might be a good way to get a better picture, rather than the stitched together portrait you've gotten from the late nights and short, hesitant answers he gives you. At the thought, you pull out your phone to see if he’s sent you anything, but you have no texts.

The laughter dwindles, and you hear Yoongi rattling the spit in his mouth loudly enough to be heard over the music as he makes a lane change. In the other seat, Namjoon runs a hand through his blonde hair. Their silence immediately winds you up, and your hand, holding the phone, falls to the side. Had Jungkook not been telling you something? Was it worse than the late hours? Was –

"This isn't a great company," Yoongi states flatly, when it becomes obvious Namjoon is still groping for something more tactful to say. "They make you feel like you owe them your finger bones just because they pay a bit above average, and if those aren't showing from hitting the keyboards enough, you're some kind of failure."

"Yeah..." Namjoon sighs. "They tried that with me, but Yoongi's been there for several years, he's the best they've got in the audio department, and he made it clear that if I left, he would too. So they pulled back a little. Jungkook, though..."

"He doesn't say no. I've told him to – told him I'll throw in for him – but he's really afraid he's gonna get tossed. Can't blame him. People get fired too easily at Projeck." His voice is disinterested, but Yoongi makes another lane change, too abruptly this time, and that, plus his tight grip on the steering wheel, is a hint that he’s not quite as untouched as he sounds.

You press your back into the seat, trying to give yourself a semblance of a spine as your whole body threatens to fold. You'd had an inkling that Jungkook was maybe conceding too easily to upper management, but it sounds like he's having way more than a little pressure to work late put on him. This – actually this sounds toxic. Crippling. And Jungkook hadn't said anything about it.

And you barely asked.

Gnawing on your cheek, you lapse into silence, struggling for something to say.

Namjoon looks back, brows pulling together at whatever he sees on your face. "He's trying to get ahead of his workload, Y/N," he says gently. "I know after today he doesn't plan on going in until after New Years. He said he really wants to spend time with you."

"He was literally moping all over the office today," Yoongi adds. "Was surprised he didn't break his computer screen, he was sighing on it so much."

They're trying to make you feel better, reassure you that Jungkook had missed you and hated being separated on today of all days. They are accomplishing the exact opposite of what they intend, but that's not their fault. After all, they don't know what you'd said to Jungkook over the phone. Part of you wonders if they'd even have been willing to give you a ride if they did know. You're pretty sure you wouldn't have been if you were them.

You might also have tried to run yourself over on the way out of the parking lot, if you were them.

Before you can pull anything resembling words from the mire of rabid guilt curdling in your throat, the car pulls into the Gallery's small parking lot. It's almost surprising to find that there are two other vehicles already parked, and with the way the night is going, it's even more surprising that you recognize one of them as Jungkook's.

"He's here!" you cry out, relief and something heavier saturating your voice.

With a pleased exclamation, Namjoon gestures excitedly, smashing his hand into the roof of the car with a loud thud in the process.

"If you fucking dent my car..." Yoongi begins, but their mild bickering slips by you.

Your eyes are straining for some sign of Jungkook. The parking lot is empty of people, and the big sign above the building isn't lit up. However, it looks like there are some lights on in the Gallery, spilling out into the dimly lit lot, and as you fix your anxious gaze on the interior through the wide glass windows, you think you see the dim form of at least one person moving inside.

He’s here. You’re literally lightheaded with the joy of that certainty. This day has stretched out with excruciating discord, but now, everything is drawing tighter, shorter, focusing into a promise of reprieve. Finally, finally, something’s going right. The blissful expectation of getting to see Jungkook is almost enough for you to forget about everything else. For this moment, you think you’d forego everything Christmas – the gifts, the dinner, the decorations, everything – just to press your face against his chest and feel him holding you.

Hand on the door handle, you keep yourself from leaping out and dashing to the building only with difficulty. “Thank you so much for driving me. I almost can’t believe we caught him.”

“It’s Christmas, isn’t it?” Namjoon replies. “Escaping from Projeck before eight was our miracle – looks like this gets to be yours.”

The three of you chuckle at that, and then you’re opening the door. “I’ll let Jungkook know you helped me. Maybe he’ll stop throwing things.”

“And maybe Santa exists,” Yoongi grumbles, but there’s no annoyance in his rasping voice. “’Sides, that’s not what I want from him. Tell him to think about what we’ve said, ‘kay?”

Assuming he means saying no to the boss more, you nod, emotional with how lucky both you and Jungkook are to have run into such kind people. ‘Thank you’ doesn’t really cover the gratitude their thoughtfulness has inspired in you, and on top of everything else you’ve been through today, it’s almost enough to set you to crying again.

Namjoon seems to sense you’re at a loss for words; at any rate, he fills in the space. “If things change for the better in the new year, we’ll see more of you, Y/N. In the meantime, take care! I hope you and Jungkook have a Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year!”

Your voice comes out husky with gratitude. “Thank you. Thank you. I – Hope you both have a Merry Christmas, too! And a Happy New Year!”

Then you’re out of the car, shutting the door carefully behind you, your jaw tight to keep back the ridiculous tears. Yoongi and Namjoon wave, you wave back, and then Yoongi pulls away, leaving you standing and waving in the parking lot until the car turns and is gone. You take a couple of deep breaths, a smile easing the urge to cry. The excitement hasn’t dimmed at all, and, clutching the fast-food bag tightly, you pivot towards the Gallery, little shivers of anticipation darting under your skin.    

You practically run to the doors, and nearly commit the same mistake that student had, years ago, when they don’t open at your touch. The thought of smacking into them and announcing your presence to Jungkook that way has a low laugh bubbling in your throat. Yanking yourself to a halt, you try pulling and pushing on the doors, to no avail; they’re locked. You give them one last jerk, just to be sure, but they remain stubbornly shut. It’s not enough of a deterrent to dampen your spirits, though you find yourself bouncing impatiently on the soles of your feet, unable to get rid of the fizzy energy coursing through your veins.

You’re okay to wait outside until Jungkook comes out – it’s still not that cold out, and how much longer could he really be? – but nonetheless you start heading to the right, circling around the building, peering into the windows on the off-chance you can catch sight of your boyfriend and get his attention. The lights are off in some of the areas, but a few are flooded in a soft glow, and you skim your eyes over all that you can see. The more you look, the more confused you are about why Jungkook would be here. There are no other customers that you can see, so clearly, it’s not some sort of special Christmas showing. You literally can’t think of another reason he might be here. And hadn’t Yoongi said he was meeting someone?

It’s a mystery you can’t solve yourself, and you keep up your roaming examination. Most of the building has glass walls, except for an area near the back, and you can see inside fairly easily, where the lights are on. The Gallery is pretty typical, all open spaces and white, dismantlable walls, the better to more starkly exhibit the art pieces scattered across the wooden floors. There are paintings and sculptures, a few more abstract works, little plaques beside most of them –

But no Jungkook.

Lips pursued, you make your way further around, until you’re on the other side of the building, ears keen for any sound of a door opening. Wouldn’t that just be typical? While you’re wandering around out here, he comes out and leaves…

You should text him. A surprise visit is one thing, but at this point you being outside is going to be surprise enough. With that thought in mind, you begin fumbling in your pockets, awkwardly cradling the fast-food in one hand as you search for your phone. Not in your back jean pockets. A horrified panic starts building, and by the time you’ve clawed all the lint out of your sweater’s pockets, you’re certain. You don’t have it.

A memory, stilted and strained, of your hand falling to your side when you’d been talking about Jungkook’s stress in Yoongi’s car. In your anguish, it suddenly becomes clear to you; you’d dropped it. Forgotten to pick it up again. It was in the car!

For a second, you think that’s going to be the breaking point. The straw on the camel’s back. Your frustration peaks, eyes stinging, hands balled into fists as your excitement is drowned in self-reproach and an overwhelming sense of despair. Why were you so stupid? Fighting with Jungkook, sulking around the apartment, this dumb idea to get fast-food that’s definitely cold by now, and now – now this. You start walking again, barely looking, just planning to get to the front of the building and maybe collapse on the pavement. The crushing unhappiness doesn’t let up. Were you cursed? Was the world out to get you? Had you kicked a puppy in a past life? Why did you end up –

Your raging internal soliloquy is interrupted by movement within the Gallery. Someone is moving inside. Someone tall and muscular, with his black shirt rolled up to the elbows, long, shaggy black hair tucked behind his ears as he lounges against one of the white walls. He’s partially turned; you can only see half of his face, and even that not perfectly because of the narrow angle, but the sharp definition of his jaw is obvious, even from here. There’s something rectangular leaning against the wall next to him, wrapped in brown packaging paper, but you barely notice it. He’s talking to someone equally as tall, their back turned to you, but you barely register them.

Jungkook. It’s Jungkook!

It is not an exaggeration to say that for a second you doubt your eyes. Everything has just been so, so shitty today that you’d almost believe he’s a hologram or a figment of your imagination before buying that your flesh and blood boyfriend is standing some twenty feet away and that all it will take to end this horrible experience will be to catch his attention.

The person he’s talking to must say something funny, because his nose crinkles, lips rising as he tilts his head back and laughs. It’s just a giggle, quickly stifled, but it’s also a needle; the second you see that laugh, your bubble of disbelief pops with a force that’s almost audible. You can’t hear him, but at the same time, you can, fully aware of the way his snicker of amusement started out low and then pitched higher in tandem with his head being thrown back. The sound that isn’t a sound but a memory and a gift and a promise altogether gives rise to something hot and aching in your chest.

“Jungkook,” you say, barely aware of the name slipping between your tingling lips. There’s a rushing sensation in your ears, through your veins, like your blood has just remembered that it’s alive and is eager to prove it. The misery of moments and minutes and hours ago doesn’t disappear, but the sight of your boyfriend is enough to lift you out of it, to buoy you above the churning waves and set you, heart alight, in the clouds.    

“Jungkook!” you call, a shout this time, and start waving. He doesn’t hear or notice you, attention fixed on the man he’s with. You still don’t recognize whoever it is, but then again, with his back to you all you can see is the vibrantly patterned orange shirt stretching over his shoulders and a fluffy bit of brown hair. However, whatever he’s saying has sobered Jungkook; from what you can see of his face, his lips have tightened, and he shakes his head now and again.  

Who the hell is that, anyways? More vigorous gestures still don’t pull Jungkook’s gaze away from the other person. You know that any second now he’s going to look over and see you, break into a silly, bemused grin, rush over to the window, if only you could just– You’re about to tap on the glass when whoever it is abruptly steps closer to Jungkook. From what you can see, the guy’s large hands are moving passionately, persuasively, and a moment later he grabs Jungkook’s wrist, other hand rising up towards his face. You can’t quite tell what’s happening, except that Jungkook doesn’t shake him off or push him away. Doesn’t push him away, even when he leans closer, their faces inches apart, and the way they’re standing, you still don’t know who it is.  

Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind that his personal space is being invaded. There’s an attempt at a scowl on his lips, but you can tell it’s fake, a laugh on the verge of breaking through. You realize your hand is still raised to knock on the window, and let it fall. Brows pulling together, you try to make sense of what you’re seeing. The other man leans in even more, and when their lips are about to touch you wrench your eyes away.

For a long moment you stare at the pavement at your feet, mouth moving silently, like you’re searching for a word that fits what you just saw happen. It couldn’t be what you thought. Any second now, a reasonable explanation is going to come to mind. You’re going to find some frame of reference that makes this understandable. There’s going to be something that changes your point of view, makes reality into fiction. Because this can’t be true. This can’t be happening.

Jungkook could not have just kissed someone else in an empty art gallery while he thought you were waiting for him at home.  

Except that’s exactly what happened. You feel yourself change. You’re not a person anymore, not a human; you’re a wound, red and open and weeping. With a strangled sob, you suddenly find your feet moving to match your reeling thoughts, and you stagger away from the warmly lit building. The disbelief is like novocaine, numbing the screaming pain of the betrayal, but it’s not strong enough to force your gaze back through the window. Back to your boyfriend and whoever he’s with. Who knows what they’re doing now?  

Stopping yourself from crumpling to your knees and curling into a ball takes almost all of your strength, and you can’t keep yourself from doubling over slightly, one hand across your middle as you stumble blindly down the sidewalk and away from the Gallery. You press on your eyes to keep back the tears, cover your mouth to stifle the high, anguished gasps you’re making, but it does little to fool anyone, least of all yourself. Each sob rips from somewhere deep inside you, opens up the injury even further, until it feels like you might very well be tearing your chest apart.

He couldn’t have. He just– he couldn’t have. You can’t reconcile what you saw with what you know, but how can they be two different things? How can your boyfriend – loving, loyal, protective – exist in the same place as that man who hadn’t mentioned he was meeting anyone, who snuck around on Christmas day to see someone else? How can Jungkook be a cheater? How? How?

How could I not have known?

Bewildered, you scrabble through your memories like they’re a pack of spilled cards, struggling to piece them together, to pick them up and put them in order after they’ve fluttered to the ground in a chaos of white and black and red. At first you can’t find a hint. Can’t find a reason. There’s warmth and laughter and closeness in your memories together, with only spots of friction and hurt. What could the memory of you throwing tinsel around Jungkook’s neck and him parading around the living room teach you about this moment? What could the recollection of Jungkook’s arms wrapped around your shaking form when you’d received news of your grandmother’s passing tell you that you should have already known? What could the shadow of his quiet admiration as you showed him your most recent design reveal to your befuddled mind?

Was the staying late the only clue? The only ace card that trumped every other moment together? Or had there been others? Did you confuse his withdrawal from you as stress when it was really guilt? Had the silence been resentment? Boredom? Was he really going to the gym? Or into someone else’s arms? Did you do something wrong? Say something wrong?

Is this your fault?

You don’t know what to do, and as your steps slow, tears still going strong, you realize you barely know where you are. It’s fully dark now, and people are passing infrequently, with the streetlights only vaguely reassuring as they spill over faces. You haven’t taken any side streets, just followed this main road passed gas stations and boutiques, offices and fast-food joints, so you’re not lost, exactly. But you don’t have your phone. How are you supposed to get home?

Home. Suddenly the ache is more real. Present. Demanding. How are you supposed to go home when you thought home was Jungkook?

What do you say to him? What can you say? The thought of facing him has you trembling with something approaching nausea. Or maybe it’s the cold. It’s late enough now that the temperature is dropping, your heaving breath misting from your mouth, and you hadn’t planned to be out so late. The sweater is doing nothing to keep you warm. The sweater…

“Oh, God…” you mumble, your fingers digging into the tacky material, creasing the bunny that had made Jungkook so happy. “What do I do?”

What do I do?

---

With a grunt, Jungkook shoves Taehyung away using a hand against his stomach, the other man’s breath spilling across his face as he huffs in surprise. The push is strong enough to send Taehyung staggering back several paces, and he nearly trips and falls. Even as he catches himself, Jungkook is regretting the violence of the motion. It’s just – he’s feeling so vulnerable right now, so strained, and his friend acting like a clown doesn’t help matters.

Rubbing at his stomach, the other man complains reproachfully, “I was just trying to show you what to do!”

Jungkook sighs, rubbing at his face. “I don’t remember saying I needed help with how to make out,” he points out.

Taehyung throws up his hands. “You’ve missed the point!” he exclaims in disgust. “Didn’t you see the concern in my eyes? The tenderness? Dude, I was stroking your face. That’s how it’s done!”  

He snorts but the irritation is already fading, replaced by the amusement he’d had when Tae first started his shenanigans. Jungkook shakes his head, clearing his hair from his eyes, and relents a little. “Do you really think I should do it like that?” A beat. “Well, I mean, not like that. Better.”

With a grand gesture at their surroundings, Taehyung ignores the insult (or misses it, it’s hard to tell with Tae sometimes) and tells him, “You’re already doing better. You’ve got her a painting from an artist she loves.” He stops, points to himself. “Courtesy of your friendly neighbourhood art dealer, who sacrificed his Christmas night and drove all this way to make sure you got it. Plus, there’s the big news – she’s going to lose her mind when you tell her. Anyways, yeah, Koo, I’m pretty sure she’s gonna forgive you, even if you don’t use my sweet moves.”

“But I still don’t know what to say.” Jungkook hates how whiny his voice sounds, how uncertain. At the same time, it feels… good, to admit how he hasn’t got a clue how to make up with you. Or– That isn’t quite right. He does know, somewhere in his gut, in the palms of his hands, in the way his lips ache to skim along your skin. It’s just turning that feeling into words that’s struck him dumb.

“Dude, say what’s in your heart.” There is no one in the world but Taehyung who could say that earnestly and not sound like a weirdo, yet there the other man is, mouth set solemnly, somehow almost making sense. “You love her, you’re sorry for what’s happened, you want to hear her opinion, you’re working to make it better… Koo, you’ve told me all of that in the last half an hour. Now you just need to say it to her.”

“But what if…” He can’t even put it into words, the fear and uncertainty and guilt. Is he asking too much of you? Does he even deserve to ask anything? And what if… what if…

Reading him like a book, Taehyung smiles, simple and brilliant. “She’s going to forgive you. You’ve already forgiven her, so what else is there? Just the getting it done.” Still Jungkook hesitates, and his childhood friend says, a little more gently, “You’re a good person, Koo. I know that, and she does too. Talk to her. You won’t regret it.”

He hangs his head, slowly running his fingers against each other, exploring their lines like they might lead him to the courage he’s searching for. The call with you this afternoon had – shaken him. Although Jungkook had been aware – painfully so – that the two of you weren’t spending enough time together, he hadn’t realized how much it was harming you, and your anger had been both shocking and hurtful. Work had just sucked, so much, and to have you yelling at him…

But after the initial defensive reaction, he couldn’t get the thought of you sitting alone out of his head. It was never his intention to leave you for the whole day, but when he broached the subject of leaving with the boss, the look he got on his face, the way he said, “Well, of course, since I assume you’re done everything you were assigned,” had just been…

You still shouldn’t have left her. Jungkook knows that, knows equally that he didn’t have all that much of a choice if he didn’t want to get fired. It was the balancing act between those understandings that had his shoulders hunched, his cheek fair game to be chewed on. He was working on changing the situation – Namjoon and Yoongi were helping – but what if you thought it wasn’t fast enough? What if you decided you had enough? How can he bear to face you with that possibility on the horizon?

Taehyung gives him space, just hums under his breath and wanders a little, examining the various pieces on display. The Golden Closet Gallery isn’t one of his usual haunts – he tends to deal with artists further up north – but he’d come at Jungkook’s hesitant request, with an alacrity that still has Jungkook wondering what he’d done to deserve such a friend.  

He’d had his eye on your favourite local artist’s website, and when the painting went on sale, he’d known he had to get it. However, Projeck employees didn’t get paid until the 20th, and by the time he had enough money to comfortably purchase it, the artist wasn’t available on short notice and wouldn’t have been around to give it to him until after New Year’s Eve. Taehyung is well known in the community, though, and the painter had had no qualms letting him deal with establishing the price and then handing the piece over. It was practically a miracle, even if Tae had only been able to slip away from his family on Christmas afternoon.

Eventually, with Taehyung’s deep baritone hum a soothing presence, Jungkook tamps his fear down. Gets it to a manageable level. At the end of the day – Taehyung is right. He loves you, more than anything, more than he thought he could love anyone. That’s enough. It has to be enough.

He looks up, clears his throat. “Thanks, TaeTae,” Jungkook says quietly. “I really couldn’t have done this without you.”

His friend beams. “Nah, you couldn’t have. But what else are friends for, right?”

“I’ll get you an early release copy of Urban Anonymous. I think you’ll like it,” he promises. “But in the meantime… I think I’ve got someone to, uh, speak my heart to.” For half a second Jungkook thinks he’s about to die from the sheer cringe of saying that, a blush flooding across his cheeks, but at the same time – it feels kinda good to say. Goofily so, and very embarrassing, but still.

If anything, Taehyung’s beam intensifies. “Then my job here is done! I should hit the road anyways, I wanna get back home. I promised my parents I’d make them something nice for breakfast tomorrow.”

“Sure you don’t wanna stay over?” Glancing out the window, taking in how dark it is, Jungkook feels bad to be sending Taehyung out on the road at this time.

The other man snickers. “And get in the way of a beautiful thing? Nah. Besides, you know I like driving at night, and it’s only a little over three hours. I’ll be fine.”

“If you say so…” Jungkook snags the painting off of the floor, and together they walk through the Gallery, to the doors Taehyung had locked behind them when they entered. He unlocks them now, and they leave the aesthetically pleasing space, spilling out into the chilly night air. As Taehyung locks up, Jungkook glances around, breathing in deeply. Now that he’s resolved himself, he actually feels – a little better. Steadier, as though his world isn’t about to jerk out from underneath his feet.

Their cars are parked together, and once there Taehyung flings himself at Jungkook – scrupulously avoiding hitting into the painting, of course – and they hug, Jungkook staggering under the weight of his friend. The fond affection is a fluffy, sleepy thing, and, with one hand wrapped around Taehyung’s shoulders, Jungkook repeats, “Thank you, TaeTae.” It’s not eloquent, but with Taehyung, it’s enough.

They break apart, and Taehyung is grinning, a wide, boxy affair that has the nostalgia and warmth growing. “I’ve missed you, Koo. I’m glad we got to meet up. Tell Y/N that I miss her too, okay? And that I wish her a Merry Christmas.”

“We’ll have to get together again soon; Y/N will be disappointed she missed you. Although I know she loved your blue hair, so she’ll probably be sad you changed it.” It had even surprised Jungkook a bit when Tae had first ducked out of his car. The blue had just been so… riveting, and compared to that, the darker tone really changes how he looks. Not to mention that Tae went with a curlier style this time around.

Taehyung runs a hand through his fluffy brown locks before shrugging. “I got bored. Besides, I haven’t had brown in, what? Five years? It was a nice change.”

“It’s a good look. Almost as good as mine,” Jungkook teases, and Taehyung laughs in his deep, rolling way. “Okay. Merry Christmas, TaeTae. And have a Happy New Year! Don’t drive into a ditch, but if you do, call me.”

“I’ll get you to drag the car out by yourself,” Taehyung agrees amiably. “You look like you could manage it these days, and it’d save me the cost of the tow-truck.”

He gives Jungkook’s upper arm a cheerful poke, whistles in exaggerated admiration and then dodges Jungkook’s swipe at him. “See you soon, Koo! I’ll send you a text when I get home. Hopefully you’ll be too busy to read it until tomorrow.” And with a wicked little giggle, he gets into his car.

“Bye, Tae! See you! Thank you!” Jungkook waves until the other man has pulled away, blasting an R&B version of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, and then he gets into his own car. Being with Tae is like inhaling a warmer version of helium, all uplift and expansion. It suddenly occurs to Jungkook, with a little jolt, that he’s excited to get home.

No matter how scared he is, scared of the future and scared of the conversation ahead, picturing you, thinking of walking into the apartment and seeing your face, is enough to drive a sharp spike of joy through his trepidation. You are the best thing in his life, and even with this fight, even with the hurt still nestled against his ribs, he wouldn’t have drawn it any other way.

It’s as he’s starting the car that he realizes he got a text from Namjoon and didn’t notice. Hey Jungkookie. Can you let Y/N know we have her phone? She left it in the car.

He stares at the words, waiting for the moment when they’ll make sense. When sense is not forthcoming despite scrambling his brains for what it could mean, Jungkook types out a reply, his fingers sweaty with sudden anxiety.  

what car? you saw Y/N today?

…Yeah? We dropped her off at the Gallery. Did she not mention it?

at the gallery?? when?

His heart is in his throat, the unease ricocheting to unprecedented levels, and Jungkook shoves open the car door, begins looking desperately around like you two could have possibly missed each other in the empty lot. When his phone vibrates thirty seconds later, he almost drops it in his haste to unlock it.

Thirty minutes ago. Around there. Is she not there? Is everything okay?

Jungkook rips his eyes from the screen to the empty parking lot and back to the screen, a bewildered trek that gives him no hints, and he doesn’t know the answer.

---

When you finally get back to the apartment, your hurt has become a cramped, flattened pressure at the back of your throat, and every breath scrapes painfully on the way out. It’s taken you close to two hours to get back. The first person you’d asked for directions had given you the wrong bus number, and while you’d realized it eventually, you’d been going the wrong way for a significant period of time.

Usually, you and Jungkook laugh at how bad your sense of direction is, but this is just more humiliation to stoke an already raging fire of shame. Your steps literally drag – you almost trip on your way up the stairs – and your fingers are tingling, almost numb. It’s gotten progressively colder as the night wore on, and by now the icy feeling has sunk deep into your bones, passed the hard exterior until its wrapped around the marrow.

You’d thought about checking into a hotel. You at least hadn’t forgotten or lost your credit card. There was something tempting about postponing the moment when you had to see Jungkook. But at the same time… If you didn’t answer your phone and didn’t come back, he might worry (would he worry?) and worse, he might get other people involved. What if he talked to Namjoon and Yoongi? Or phoned your parents or brother? You can’t stand the thought of having to explain to them what happened without any preparation – without even knowing what happened yourself.

So here you are, facing the door, empty-handed. You’d thrown out the fast-food at the first trashcan you’d come to after deciding to return. Would Jungkook be home by now? Had he finished with – was he done? Or was he still out there, still… You have to say it eventually, you try to tell yourself firmly, but your whole being cringes from making that acknowledgement, from putting it into syllables that might somehow trap it in reality. It’s not something you can manage tonight. You really don’t know what will be worse, him being inside or not, but you can’t just stand outside forever.

Forcing the key to the lock is no harder than flinging yourself off a cliff, and you approach it with the same amount of dry-mouth apprehension. Your hands are shaking so bad it’s hard to get them to align, but when you finally do, the click of the key sliding in is too loud, like its announcing that you’ve slunk back in shame to all of the apartment building inhabitants. A ridiculous notion, but you flinch anyways, heart seizing as your stiff fingers fumble with the little jiggle required to get the door to open. It takes you three attempts, your anxiety growing, and when you finally manage it, you’re so strung out with tension that you don’t hesitate. You just fling the door open and stumble through.

Straight into Jungkook.

For just a second, it feels like the magnetism you learned about in school. For just a second you fall into him like there’s nothing else in the world more natural than falling, and for just a second you press against his chest and feel dizzy with the light, clean scent that surrounds you. For just a second, as he catches your weight and closes his arms around you, calling your name with a voice of choked relief, you let yourself forget.

For just a second.

And then reality floods back in, a tainted torrent of regret and grief, strewn with rage and humiliation that drifts just below the surface. Though you’re so unsteady you can barely see, your lungs blocked and battling to heave in enough air just to keep breathing, you struggle to get away from him.

“Let go of me,” you say, dry and curt, and when his arms only tighten – more, you suspect, to keep you from pitching over than in denial of your demand – your efforts become harsher, more violent. Without room you can’t get any momentum to really push away from him, but your motions are frantic with the desire to do just that. There’s a panicked, screaming need to get away from him, to get enough space, like he’s the reason your lungs are crumpling in on themselves. “Let go, Jungkook!” you cry, your voice spiking up into shrillness, shattering the syllables of his name.

Like he’s been electrified, Jungkook jerks, his arms flying open. Instantly, let loose, you scramble away, down the entrance hallway. Just as off balance as he’d feared, you nearly trip over something long and cumbersome leaning against the wall that you’re too distraught to look at, and you have to windmill to catch your balance. A moment later you slam your shoulder into the corner of the wall as you try to take the turn too sharply. “Y/N, please, stop!” you hear, and wish you hadn’t. Barely registering the sharp throb in your shoulder, you catch yourself and keep going. Seconds later you’re in the bedroom, and you slam the door shut.

It doesn’t have a lock. Putting your back to the door, your air rattling hollowly out of your mouth – too fast, too shallow, but you can’t seem to calm down – you slide down the solid surface. Pulling your knees to your chest, you rest your forehead against them, eyes tightly closed, still gasping. Your eyes are aching, but you can’t cry against the immense pressure of overwhelming panic. There’s just a stinging sensation and a pulsing rigidity in your face, like each and every muscle there has chosen to stage a personal rebellion at the exact same time.

I can’t, I can’t, oh God, please, I can’t do this I can’t look at him I can’t I –

“Y/N?” Jungkook sounds like he’s directly on the other side of the door, but he makes no attempt to open it. “Baby, please, are you okay?”

His voice is so raw with worry that it’s red. The colour blooms across your closed eyelids, swathes of crimson and scarlet, and you imagine that it’s blood, trickling from the wound inside of you. You can barely tell where your back ends and the door begins, like any moment you might slide through it, or maybe through the floor, or through the ground, or maybe you’re already there, floating in nothing, and the red breaks into jagged pieces of black and orange and you still can’t breathe.

“Y/N? Can you talk to me? Just – say something, okay? Just so I know you’re okay.”

You can’t even manage that. Even if you wanted to. Even if he deserved to know. Throat moving convulsively, you choke out a sob but nothing else comes after. Just wheezing breaths, and you think you’re shaking but you’re somewhere outside of your skin so it’s hard to tell.

“Okay, okay. I’m – I’m gonna be here, okay? Right here. If you need me, I’m here.” Even through the hazy distortion swamping you, Jungkook’s clear, resonant voice comes through. Maybe it’s the concern, too heavy to be swept away by the raging panic. Maybe it’s the compassion, too anchored in you to be broken away by the tremendous pressure.

Or maybe you just know Jungkook’s voice so well that even your disassociation can’t make it unfamiliar to you.

“You’re doing good, Y/N. I’m still here. Just on the other side of this door.” A pause, a deep chasm of silence, and then he continues. “I think it’s a panic attack. I know it’s scary, but it’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”  

Later, you will be both annoyed and touched that Jungkook realized you were having a panic attack before you did. You’ve had a few throughout university, but none within the past year or two, and in the moment, you’d been too overwhelmed to identify what’s going on. The insight is helpful though, something to cling to and repeat to yourself. A grounding. It’s a panic attack. You’re going to be okay.  

Jungkook keeps talking, slow and steady. Nothing serious. Just words. You lean on his voice just as hard as you’re leaning on the door, and, slowly but surely, in a stretch of time that doesn’t mean anything to you, the constrictive bands across your chest loosen. You sink back into yourself. The tips of your fingers make sense again.

And you start crying.

“Y/N? How’re you feeling?”

Funny. Now, with your throat something other than a fist and pain, you still struggle to say anything. This is a softer kind of crying, not quite quiet, with little, hiccupping gasps as the tears run down your face. Possible to speak through. You just don’t know what to say to the man who just talked you, with kindness and compassion, through a panic attack. Who cheated on you. Your fingertips might make sense, but nothing else does.

“I – Y/N, baby, I get that you’re upset, but I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me.” So anguished. Why did he have to sound like that? What right did he have?

You don’t know if it’s outrage or bewilderment or grief or pity that has you answering. Is it possible to have all of them in your mouth, gritty across your tongue? At any rate, your tone is as washed out as you feel, fatigued and grey. “I saw, Jungkook,” you whisper to your knees.

There’s silence on the other side of the door. Denial? Guilt? His reply is sluggish, thick with confusion. “You saw what?”

That makes you laugh – or not really, though the tortured sound was supposed to be one. “I was there. At the Golden Closet Gallery.” Will he really keep pretending after he knows you were there? Could he really be that brazen? The Jungkook you know couldn’t. There’s no way he could carry a lie like that, holding it effortlessly in the face of the truth. The Jungkook you know would blush, shuffle, collapse like a house of cards. He’s really not good at lying.

The answer isn’t a lie, but it confuses you all the same. “I know you were. Namjoon texted me to say he’d dropped you off, but – Where did you go? I – I drove around for like an hour trying to find you, and I couldn’t and when I got home you weren’t here…” The stream of words dies out like Jungkook can’t quite find any more to say, or maybe he’s embarrassed to say them.

When your reply isn’t forthcoming, confusion churning up anything you might spit out, he continues, more subdued. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to push you after what you just went through, I just– Are– How are you feeling? Was it – did something happen while you were getting here? Is that what took so long?” Another pause that you can’t fill, that stretches on and on as you try to understand what he’s talking about. How he can apologize for that and not the actual offense.  

Abruptly his voice bursts out. “Why won’t you talk to me!?” Tighter and more uncertain than you’ve heard tonight. Maybe more afraid than you’ve ever heard him.

It rips at your heart, and you realize in a swell of furious sorrow that you can’t stand to hear him sound like that. With a sudden, unstable surge, you get to your feet. Immediately your vision falters a bit, and you stagger, but catch yourself before you fall, clinging to the doorknob. You take a deep breath, fighting away the residual nausea and light-headedness. It clears within a few seconds, and your hand tightens on the knob as you take a deep breath. You can’t just leave him standing out there. You can’t just leave this incomprehensible thing hanging in the frame between your two lives.

You open the door. Slowly. Reluctantly. But you open it.

His long black hair is a wild mess, pushed back from his forehead, strands sticking up here and there. Even as you inch the door open, he runs his hand through it, ruffling it even further. His shirt is wrinkled, only partially tucked in, one sleeve rolled to bare his forearm, the other slipped down almost all the way. With his jaw so tense it’s a wonder he’s not cracking his teeth, Jungkook stares at you, lips set and pale. He doesn’t look like someone who committed a betrayal only hours before; if anything, the anguished panes of his face speak to a betrayal committed against him.

You’re so, so tired. Too tired to grasp at the outrage that wisps at the edge of your consciousness. Sniffling to clear your throat, you wipe at your face, trying make yourself a little less pitiful. “I was at the Gallery, Jungkook. I saw you,” you repeat because it’s still so hard to think of anything to say. When his expression doesn’t change – unless his eyebrows furrow, just a little, in innocent perplexity – you exhale. “I saw you with that guy. I saw you…”

“That guy? Who do you–” Jungkook breaks off, examines you more closely, like you’ve given him something to be concerned about. “Are you talking about Taehyung?”

The name is startling in its sheer unexpectedness. What the hell did Jungkook’s best friend have to do with any of this? “Taehyung? No, I’m not talking about Taehyung. I’m talking about that guy you were with tonight, in the Gallery. The guy you–” The words catch, but only for a second. You push them through with a surge of vehement exasperation for the blank expression he’s wearing. “The guy you kissed!”

In another place, the nonplused spasm across his face would have been hilarious. As it is, it just heightens your frustration, and the way he starts sputtering does absolutely nothing to reduce it. Even when he finally gets himself together and manages to talk, your aggravation is here to stay.

Right next to your mortification, as it happens.

“I didn’t– Y/N, that guy at the Gallery was Tae! Could you not tell it was him? I know he has brown hair now, but…” Jungkook shakes his head, flipping his own hair back. The tension seems to have slipped from his jaw, at least a little, and it might very well have crept into yours. “Is that– Is that what this whole thing has been about? You thought I did something with some random guy?” His lips twitch, and it doesn’t seem like he can decide if he wants to smile or scowl, and you feel the beginning of a flush heating up your face.

“It was Taehyung! And I didn’t kiss him. I mean, he tried to kiss me but it was just to–” Abruptly there’s a wash of faint scarlet crawling up his cheeks – cheeks that are rounder than they were a second ago, as he looks down and away, gaze slipping from you for the first time since you opened the door.

“Just to what?” you demand, the challenge extra belligerent to make up for the belated shock of suspended relief that hangs like smoke over your head. Too intangible for you to catch with your hands right now, though present enough to burn your throat with its sooty possibility.

He’s still looking at the ground, the blush becoming more prominent, and he begins to shift, the rustle of his dress pants loud in the fraught silence. “Um,” Jungkook begins awkwardly, head ticking to the side the way it always does when he regrets saying something or doubts his ability to do something. “It’s just, uh… he was helping me.”

“Helping you.”

Jungkook winces at your deadpan echo. “Yeah. I, um, asked him to…” Hands drumming on his thighs, drawing your attention for a second before you snap back to his flushed face, Jungkook bounces on the balls of his feet. “Uh… This is totally not how I planned this,” he mumbles, before hauling his gaze up to meet your own. “Hold on for a sec, okay? I just want to grab something.” For all that he’s definitely lightened a bit, the request is tinged with urgent appeal, his eyes scouring your face hesitantly like he’s afraid you’re going to retreat back to the room the moment he loses sight of you.

You’re not entirely sure that isn’t going to happen, but there have been so many emotional upheavals today you’ve just about exhausted your ability to feel more defensiveness. The more Jungkook speaks – the longer you’re in his presence – the more the sheer impossibility of what you’d believed is sinking in. He’s just – he’s Jungkook. Such a focal point of light and energy, such a reserve of easily offered comfort in a form so much more substantial than words. Somehow – maybe because of his prolonged absences, maybe because of your staggeringly challenging day – you’d managed to forget just what he is, but it’s in front of you now, demanding to be seen and acknowledged against the backdrop of what you’d thought. What had seemed so possible, even an hour ago, suddenly seems ridiculous when set next to the quiet solidity of him, of everything he is.

Wiping again at eyes that haven’t ceased watering yet, you nod.

He hurries away, down the short hallway and back towards the front entrance. You hear a thump, a muttered curse, a short dragging noise, and then Jungkook rounds the corner, hefting a rectangular object covered in brown paper. When you examine it more closely, you’re pretty sure it’s what you almost fell over when you ran inside. By the time he’s standing in front of you, the unwieldy item put on the ground and balanced against his knee, you’re pretty sure you know what it is by the shape and packaging alone.

And somewhere, in the back of your mind, you’re beginning to make connections. About Taehyung and the art gallery and the thing on the ground in front of you.

Jungkook just speeds up the process. “I was gonna wrap it in something nicer,” he offers apologetically, “but I was… Baby, I was so scared when Namjoon said you should have been at the gallery and I couldn’t find you and you weren’t at home. I thought – hell, I didn’t know what to think. That you got kidnapped or something.” He laughs, that shaky sound of amusement reserved for disasters that are absurd to imagine until they actually happen, and you shift, the heat crowding your face growing.

With a slight roll of his shoulders, he nudges the brown-wrapped object. “Anyways… Tae was helping me get this. For, um, you. Because I thought you might like it.” When you make no move to grab it, his eyebrows knit together. “Y/N? I swear, I didn’t do anything with anyone else. I wouldn’t do anything with–”

“I know.” You cut him off, unable to bear the imploring tone. It’s impossible to meet his beseeching gaze with the burden of your stupidity weighing on you, and you keep your eyes on your fingers. “I know you didn’t. Jungkook, I’m…” The winded feeling is still lingering, a hollowness in your lungs, and you have to inhale deeply just to remind yourself you can. Your anger at being abandoned by Jungkook for work died out so long ago it might as well be a relic, and with the betrayed grief swept so thoroughly out of your stomach, you’re left feeling strangely empty of anything but guilt.

“I’m so sorry. I – God, I’m so stupid. I saw you two and I thought – I assumed…” All of the logic that had founded your incorrect assumption is trickling through your grasping fingers, and you don’t know how to explain in a way that makes sense. In a way that justifies how you’d leapt to conclusions.

“I’m sorry,” you continue unevenly. “I just…”

“It’s okay.” When you keep staring down, Jungkook moves closer, reaches out, tentatively puts his arm around you. Light enough that you could break away if you wanted to. You don’t. You absolutely don’t.

The contact feels like an anchor, pulling you ever closer to reality. Making the trembling relief that much more real. The embarrassment, too. “Really Y/N, it’s – I know today has been…” After a moment he sighs, faint and low, shaking his head. “Today has sucked so bad, and Christmas isn’t supposed to be like this. I get why you thought what you did. After everything that’s been happening, after I’ve – I haven’t been around.”

“That doesn’t make it okay,” is your whispered protest, still unable to look at him. “I should have just talked to you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that would have saved us both a bit of panic. But Y/N…” He waits, waits longer, until you’re forced to bring your eyes up. Meeting the dark softness of his gaze summons up more guilt, more regret – but also a clear, undeniable relief. Light at the end of a pitch black tunnel. You’re not out of the darkness, but with those sympathetic eyes on you, you have a sense of striving. Like taking a step, and then another, is possible. And might just be worth it.

“Y/N, baby, it’s not all your fault. It’s on me too.” His arms are resting lightly on your shoulders, fingers gently rubbing across the nape of your neck. “I haven’t talked with you enough. Kept just pushing it off, pretending it’s okay.” When he laughs softly, his breath tickles your face. “Not quite okay, hey?”

Your strained giggle isn’t heartfelt, and it fades quickly. “In the car, when Namjoon and Yoongi gave me a ride, they said – It seems like work has really, really sucked. More than I thought it did.” You lean back, just a bit, his arms a steady support against your back, and search his face. He’s biting his cheek, little lines skittering across his forehead. This close, the dark circles under his eyes are more pronounced, his skin sallower than it should be. He looks tired, but he doesn’t look away from you.

“Jungkook,” you say quietly. “How bad is it?”

Something flickers behind his eyes, a shadow of his normal reserve. You can feel the tightness in his body, the slight tremor that suggests he’s about to move away. The protective distance he clings to when he doesn’t want to worry you rears up – and you kill it with your hand, trembling only slightly as you tenderly trace your fingers along his temple, down his cheekbone, to cup the strong lines of his jaw. “Please, Jungkook. Tell me.”

The admission comes, fast and breathless, like he needs to get the words out before his teeth clench over them. “Bad. It’s bad. I hate it there.”

“Oh. I–” This is a different kind of pain from most of what you’ve been feeling today. More selfless, an anguish that extends and expands outward instead of curling up. “I’m so sorry. Kookie, I didn’t know. I should have but–”

“I didn’t tell you. How could you know?”

“I should have,” you insist.

His mouth quirks, a flash of teeth showing in mild amusement. “You can’t expect me to know you’re upset, but you should know when I am? I don’t think it works that way, babe.” When your mouth opens to object, Jungkook pulls you to his chest, cutting off your protest. You sink into his embrace, boneless and aching and grateful for the support, and if the gift’s hard frame weren’t digging into your leg, it would almost be perfect.

Perfect enough.

Pressing your face against his shirt, you feel him kiss the top of your head, arms still wrapped firmly around your shoulders. “I’m glad you’re safe,” he whispers.

“I’m glad you told me about work,” you mumble into his chest, reluctant to draw away. “If I told you to quit today, would you?” You’re not really joking, even though you know what the immediate answer has to be. You don’t have enough savings for one of you to quit without any other prospects lined up.

“Actually…” There’s something restrained in his voice, teetering on the edge of anxiety, or maybe excitement.

Shock has you looking up, resisting the comforting pull of his warmth for a moment. “You did!?”

“Oh, uh, no,” Jungkook says hurriedly, biting at his lower lip. Far from pleasure, the reassurance has disappointment funneling into your heart, funds be damned. To say that Jungkook’s job was the mother of all evils would probably be both unfair and exaggerated, but if it’s making him (and you) as miserable as he says...

“It sounds really bad, Jungkook. Killing yourself trying to please a bunch of jerks isn’t worth it.”

“You’re right.” He’s smiling now, smiling completely, showing off his teeth. “I don’t know if I can keep working for them for much longer, but… Ah, I was so scared to talk about this, and here you are, making it easy!” In his excitement, he’s playing with your hair, hands restless as they dance around. For once, the mystery isn’t extended. “Namjoon wants to break off. Start a new company, one that’s not an absolute dumpster fire to work for. He’s got several other people lined up who are happy to go, and Yoongi, obviously, and he asked me if I would join, too!”

“Is that why they gave me a ride?” Even as you demand it, you can feel yourself picking up on Jungkook’s energy. Not too much – the exhaustion sucking at your bones won’t allow it – but still, the lightness in your chest is a far cry from the sodden despair that’s taken up space there for most of the day.

Your boyfriend jiggles his head back and forth. “I dunno. Maybe. But I think mostly they did it because they’re pretty nice people.” He sounds a bit awed as he continues. “We can’t start for a couple more months – Namjoon said something about getting funding from some rich guy, Bang Sihyuk – but I still can’t believe they want me to come along. I mean, some of the people are, like, the best there are, Y/N.” You can almost see stars shining in his eyes.

Your response is firm, albeit playful. “So, it makes perfect sense that they’re having you join! Kookie, you’re gonna fit in so well, because you’re one of the best, too.” And honestly, you’re not even just shovelling empty praise; Jungkook is a truly talented artist in his medium.

His smile grows, eyes thinning with happiness. “And – you’re okay with it? There aren’t any guarantees that it will work out, with it being a new company.”

The trials of the day – mostly made from your own mind, though no less difficult for all of that – pass through your head. The loneliness and anger and sadness. All of it dimmed if not gone entirely, simply because here you are in his arms, speaking to each other instead of covering your hurt up. “Jungkook, one of the few guarantees I have of anything is that I love you, and you love me. If you’ll be happy working with Namjoon, with moving companies, then that’s all I need to hear.”

With a low hum, Jungkook sweeps you into another hug, and you’re glad to give up what space is between you two. Enfolded in his arms, listening to his steady heartbeat, is about the securest place you can imagine being. “I love you,” he says, voice thick with the truth of what he’s saying.

“I love you, too. Thank you. Thank you so much for everything.”

“I haven’t even given you your presents yet. Here –” And you’re breaking apart again – although not really, because you can still feel the connection as a thin warmth snuggled beneath your ribs – and Jungkook bends down, picks up the item sandwiched between you two. “Feel up to opening it?”

“The mystery gift that almost broke our relationship? Yeah, I’m up to it.”

Nose scrunching, he hands it over, and in your haste to see what’s inside, you make short work of the brown packaging. You can’t honestly say you’re surprised with the first glimpse of the mahogany frame – you expected a painting – but as more of the brown rips away, you feel shivery awe cascading down your spine. Once the painting is completely uncovered, you clutch it with sweaty palms, well aware of how precious a gift you’ve been given. You’d recognize the style anywhere.

“Jungkook,” you breathe, “oh my God, Jungkook, this is one of Ayeong’s, isn’t it? You – you actually got one of her paintings!?”

The quality is unmistakable. It’s a detailed piece, zoomed in on a small, dilapidated house. Almost everything about the house is bleak; the colours are all dull greys, blacks and browns, the porch is crumbling, and the shutters over the windows are chipped and cracked in places. However, right in the center of the house, taking up a good portion of the painting, is a door flung wide open, and the inside is flooded with warm colours and details in stark contrast with the exterior. There are people inside, crowded around the entrance, laughing and vibrant, and they dominate the doorway with their collective presence. One person, the only one who is looking outward, has her hand raised in greeting, as though inviting the viewers in.

“It’s called Homecoming.”

Soft and reverent, the name feels like an echo, a reverberation of your hopes and fears, and against a suddenly blurry vision, you smile. “It’s beautiful! It’s so, so beautiful. Thank you, Jungkook.”

“Do you feel like opening the rest of our presents? Or should we wait until tomorrow? We can grab your phone in the morning, too.”

Your fatigue drags at you, overwhelming even your hunger, but you try to rally, lifting your chin up. “What do you want to do? Do you want to open a present?”

His head tilts as he looks you over, a quick assessment. “I don’t have to. It’ll be nice to look forward to it later.” You’re absolutely positive he’s saying that for your sake, and it makes you just that closer to crying in gratitude for what’s in front of you.

Swallowing hard, you suggest, “How about tomorrow, then? We can…” You pause, scrambling for the memory, and then grin tiredly. “We can reset. Start over tomorrow.”

Jungkook’s laugh washes over you in cozy tides of amusement. “Now there’s a great idea. Whoever thought of it is a genius.”

With a chuckle, you carefully set the painting to the side, planning on figuring out where to put it tomorrow. As soon as it leaves your hands, Jungkook is there again, claiming the free territory. His grip firm and warm, he asks you, “Do you wanna eat? Or maybe nap for a bit?”

Your panic attacks always leave you drained, and the fact that Jungkook remembers is just another fond ache to add to the collection in your chest. “Nap,” you reply gratefully. “But… do you wanna lie down with me? Just for a bit?”

He couldn’t have looked any more solemn, or any more beautiful, if he’d tried. Squeezing your hand, he says, “I’d lie with you forever, if I could get away with it.” A second later the somber façade breaks apart, leaving a blush and a squirming, quietly giggly Jungkook.

With a snort, you pull him along with you, into the bedroom, a tightness across your chest that has everything to do with just how much you love the man next to you. “Now I know you were with Taehyung.” That makes you remember, and as you both walk to the bed, you glance at him, narrowing your eyes. “Are you going to tell me what Taehyung almost kissing you had to do with helping you out?”

As expected, his blush grows, painting his cheeks with a pale pink, but he surprises you by pulling you closer. With a hand under your chin, the other arm wrapped around your waist, he tilts your head up. Meeting your eyes with a tenderness that floods you with reassurance, he brushes a thumb along your lips, leaving a tingling trail. When it comes, his voice is hoarser than before, firmer. “He was trying to teach me something I already know.”

And then his mouth is on yours, steady and certain. Your lips soften against him, and time becomes languid, moving by the count of each breath that flutters against your lips. Jungkook isn’t demanding, not tonight; he kisses you sweetly, gently, conveying everything that he hasn’t managed to put into words. His body has a gravitational pull all its own, drawing you closer, and you skim your hands against his back, relishing the powerful certainty of his shoulders and the intimate confidence of his mouth on yours.

A second later, he sweeps you off your feet, and you gasp in surprise, breaking off the kiss. Jungkook places you on the bed, stands looking down at you with unmasked adoration. You open your arms, a wordless invitation that unwittingly bares the front of your top. His eyes fix on it, and if anything, they soften.

“I like your sweater,” he comments quietly, and as you laugh, he climbs onto the bed with you.

You take off the sweater in question, and your jeans and bra, easy and unhesitant in his presence. He follows suit, and then grabs your pajamas, placed as they always are at the foot of the bed. You wiggle into them, and for his part, Jungkook just throws on a pair of loose pants. The feeling of familiarity sinks into your system like a sigh of contentment, and when he pulls you against his chest, you snuggle into the embrace.

Wrapped in his arms, the smooth warmth of his skin pressed against your cheek, you let the drowsy bliss sweep over your body, and you relax, sinking against the sheets even as you curl closer to him.

Jungkook’s voice ripples against your mind, a soothing undercurrent taking you closer to sleep. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

“Merry Christmas,” you mumble. With one last faltering effort, you say, “Jungkook?”

“Hmm?” You feel the inquiring murmur just as much as you hear it, a smooth hum on your cheek.    

“Thank you for coming home.”

[hyenahunt]

Saga: Release - 8

Writer: Akira

Season: Spring

Characters: Hokuto, Tori, Chiaki, Jin

Proofreading: 310mc (JP) & Peace (ENG)

Translation: kotofucius

Hokuto: I respect you from the very bottom of my heart, Morisawa-senpai.

Location: Empty Classroom

Hokuto: Fufu, it’s pretty ironic that rain gets in our way when our unit name has “rain” in it.

Tori: Here we go again with the puns… Well, we managed to scrounge up some budget from the concert the other day, so we can just borrow a practice room.

Chiaki: While that’s true, we’re a humble temporary unit formed for Project-Saga at the end of the day.

I’d feel bad stealing the limited practice rooms from real units who actually need them.

Hokuto: Exactly. That’s why we’ve been practicing on the rooftop instead, since nobody uses it.

Tori: Hard not to feel out of place, huh? …But I guess there’s not much we can do about it.

I’d probably be annoyed too if some temporary unit was stealing the practice room fine wanted to use.

Hokuto: Yeah. We’re an irregularity; we have to be considerate of our surroundings when holding any activity as a unit. It might feel stressful, but well, we’ll just have to learn to live with it.

Chiaki: Heheh, you can let that pent-up frustration explode during your shows with Trickstar.

Either way, everything will be all and well if these teru-teru bouzu would blow away the rain clouds for us! Nobody’s hurt, and everybody’s happy; isn’t that wonderful?

Tori: Hmph, real problems don’t get resolved by relying on superstitions.

But I guess there’s no harm in praying. I’ll help make the teru-teru bouzu.

Ehehe, I actually kinda like arts and crafts~♪

Yuzuru wouldn’t let me make any at home — He’s always worried I’ll hurt myself.

So it was during class where we had to make merch by hand that I first got a feel of this kind of handwork. It was pretty refreshing and fun to try out~♪

Hokuto: Fushimi is as overprotective as ever, huh… It’s nothing like crafts, though. All you have to do is tie up a cloth with a string.

Chiaki: Yeah! We could make do with tissues, but Kiryuu was having trouble getting rid of the leftover fabric he had, so I took them off his hands!

You really can’t predict what the future holds! That’s why there’s no such thing as waste in this world!

Take a look, Himemiya! The dolls came out looking very colorful thanks to the various fabrics we have!

If we line them up according to the colors of the rainbow… they’re no mere teru-teru bouzu anymore! They’re rain-bouzu! ☆

Hokuto: I respect you from the very bottom of my heart, Morisawa-senpai.

Chiaki: Mm, what’s with the sudden praise!? Stop making me blush, you little~☆

Tori: Hidaka-senpai, seriously, what is with your strange attachment to puns?

But this peaceful atmosphere isn’t so bad, I guess~… When I’m with fine, I’m always nervous from trying to take extra care not to fail, so it gets kinda uncomfortable.

It should be okay if I relax at least once a week when I’m with Rain-bows, right…♪

Jin: Heeey~! Is every color of Rain-bows here?

Good, good ♪ It’s so nice how easy I can take this thanks to all of you being good, serious kids, really.

Chiaki: Sagami-sensei! I see that Anzu’s with you, too! Good work today, sir!

Hokuto: Hmph. You’re late, you lazy teacher. No apology for being tardy?

…On the other hand, I’m happy that you always show up for our meetings even though you aren’t officially in charge of us, Anzu ♪

Jin: Hey, you’re not being subtle on how differently you treat me and Anzu… The audience can easily tell when something’s off, so you gotta treat everybody in a fair manner, got it?

Hokuto: Hmm, you’re right. I suppose I'll deign to try.

Jin: I think this every time, but why do you always sound so uppity?

…Ohh wait, actually, what’re you guys up to? Sittin' by the windows watching the rain? That’s elegant.

Tori: No, we’re making these things called teru-teru bouzu, apparently.

Hokuto: Not just any teru-teru bouzu, Himemiya. They’re… Pfft… rain-bouzu.

Jin: Yeah? Yeah, sure… Ahh, wait, I think I get it. Morisawa, you overheard me mumbling “I hope the weather’ll clear up before the week’s out”, didn’t you?

Chiaki: Yes! The way you phrased it, I assumed you had something planned for Rain-bows for the weekend.

Just waiting around would be unproductive, so I thought we could use this opportunity to do something beneficial!

Tori: We are gathered here for Rain-bows, after all… Morisawa-senpai, you don’t ever look like you think before you speak, but I feel like you're surprisingly logical when it comes down to it.

Chiaki: Oh, is that a compliment, Himemiya? Thank you! I love you too…☆

Tori: Augh, you’re sooo annoying! If you wanna know what exactly is annoying, it’s how you said “I love you too”! I don’t love you! How many times have we gone over this, seriously?!

Jin: Ahaha, you’re all such good friends. Wouldn’t have guessed you guys were put together at the last second.

Well, you are way less confrontational compared to your peers… Hocchan aside.

Hokuto: Don’t call me Hocchan. And I take care not to cause hard feelings, in my own way.

Jin: That’s you taking care~? Are you actually related to that suave dad of yours?

Hokuto: Don’t compare me to my parents. I’m me and myself.

Jin: Says the rebellious teen. …Ah well, we’re short on time since I got here late, so I’ll be brief.

Rain-bows, gather around~♪ Take a seat somewhere near me, ‘kay? I don’t wanna raise my voice when it’s not even class time.

✦✦✦✦✦

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[writella]

Around and Around and Around

Pairing: Luke Patterson x reader

Requested? Yes! My first finished request! Thank you for the idea anon. Original ask: Could you do a present day... Alive!Luke x reader fic where him and his girlfriend (the reader) are just trying to spend some alone time together at one of Carrie’s parties? (I’m so sorry I didn’t make it Carrie’s party anon, I forgot.)

Summary: It’s a New Years Eve bash! The gangs all there, but the only thing Luke wants to do is spend time with his girlfriend. Unfortunately though, his friends constantly need their help which causes them to lose each other in the crowd. Around and around and around they constantly go... Can Luke meet up with her in time for a New Years Kiss? We shall see, my friends. We shall see.

Word Count: :)

Warnings: Kissing? Two curse words? I don’t think any of that counts. Oh! Over explaining? Neediness? An over use of the same words?

A/N: Hello everyone! IT IS A CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEARS MIRACLE! I finally finished a new fic. I really hope you enjoy it. I think I did a little too much, but this request just got my head turning and included the whole gang, so I just couldn’t help but give them all their own little moments! I had fun and I hope you do too. I’m taking you on a bit of a rollercoaster here, I will admit, but don’t worry though, I think I gave it a good ending.... You tell me.

“Y/N!”

“Y/N?”

“Luke?”

“Where are you?”

“Luuuke!”

“Luke!

“LUKE, COME LOOK!”

“Y/N, I need you.”

“Her shoe broke!”

“Luke, did you see his dog? It’s so cute! And he even likes pizza!”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to give pizza to a dog, Reg.”

“Well it wasn’t chocolate… Wait where’d he go? Wanna help me find him?”

“Well can she wear yours? Do you have an extra pair?”

“Where are they?”

Hey, Luke?!” 

“Y/N?!”

Boom the bedroom door slammed shut, and an out of breath Luke and his girlfriend, Y/N, filed in with a sigh: “Finally,” Luke said, his eyebrows and the corner of his lips rising with excitement. Throughout the hour and forty minus they had spent at the party thus far, they had found corners, almost empty areas, and even tall trees in the backyard, but none were as private as this. 

Still standing close to the door, Y/N looked around the walls that glittered with posters of rock bands and athletes. “Do you really think we should be in here? It is the birthday person’s room. Maybe we should be nice and leave it alone.” 

“When you throw a party you get what you get,” Luke reasoned, a hint of humor tracing throughout his words. “People travel, and we’re not going to do anything crazy on the kid’s blue basketball sheets if that’s what you’re worried about.” He ended, teasing Nick, the party host. 

She softly gave him an ‘alright,’ waiting for him to make his next move. Though they had been thrown around by their friends plenty of times by now tonight, the night was still young, and she knew Luke was adamant on spending time with her. Even more so, it was her first party after living in Los Angeles for almost a year now. (She was a Molina from Julie’s father’s side.) Back home she didn’t have the friend group that she had now, nor did she have someone like Luke specifically in her life as a significant other. After all this time in high school not experiencing these regular social events, a party— especially at this large of a house— seemed daunting, but as always Luke made it seem, as he always does, like it was the most spectacular adventure you couldn’t miss. Apprehension and excitement filled her spirit for what was to come of tonight. 

Following his gaze as she watched him survey the room, Luke’s eyes fell most notably on Nick’s guitars. “God, I wish I had this many.” 

“He definitely has the collection,” Y/N agreed,  still wondering what they were going to do, “but you’ve got like four, right?”

“Half of those were Bobby’s, and the acoustic is the one my parents got me… way back when, so really I only scrounged up enough money once in my life for one electric of my own.”

“So two. Still more than most.” She gave him a sympathetic smile, messing up his hair a little bit while doing so. He rubbed his head into her palm, enjoying the feeling.

There was a wonder in his eyes as he looked at the guitar rack that Y/N found quite charming. “Can’t believe he could spend all his time with these babies and he decides to balance it with sports.”

“I guess we all have our hobbies… but honestly I can’t believe we’re using this moment to ourselves to stare at guitars.” She laughs, “I’m just saying! This is what you wanted!” She corrects herself, “They are beautiful guitars though.”

“Yeah, you’re right. One of them could barge in any minute now,” Luke says, moving closer to Y/N till her back leans against the door. His fingers trace her jaw, then the side of her neck, ending as he swirled one finger around the tips of her hair. “And I could be looking at a much prettier sight.”

“Stop,” she blushed. Y/N was fine with tending to all her friends needs. She enjoyed being the first one Julie, Flynn, and now even Alex or Reggie went to for advice or help. Besides running the jatp social media account and co-running their YouTube page, making her friends feel better was what made her feel needed, but she had to admit, she liked this too. 

As they traveled backwards to the door, Luke pecked her lips a few times, then the corners of her mouth, then doing both again making her giggle and move her head to either side his lips fell. Finally, he moved centimeters back, looking in her eyes, ghosting her lips, “Stop doin’ what? Tellin’ the truth?” 

The rosy color on her face became more prominent. Her eyes traced between his own emeralds and his smile— his face made her mind fill with wonder. It was so bright, so positive, so warm, so close to her own. She could stay there with him, looking at her so endearingly, forever.

“Y/N?!” 

“Ow!” she screeched as Flynn pushed the door open on her leaning stance, bopping her head on the wood. 

“Oh my god, sorry!” Flynn gritting her teeth with worry, a fist coming to cover her mouth. “So yeah, ha ha,” the girl tried to build some relief, “Well there you two are!”

Luke grabbed the side of Y/N’s head, placing his hand over her own that covered where the impact landed, “You okay?” 

“Yeah…” She sighed, she was more concerned about whatever Flynn had to say. 

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere. I need you, like for real this time.” Flynn said, her voice filled with urgency. 

“Haven’t you needed her and looked for her ‘like’ everywhere three times tonight already?” Luke argued, a little disgruntled that their first truly private moment got interrupted in the matter of minutes.

“Was I talking to you, Patterson?” Flynn retorted, head tilted with a closed smirk on her face. “No, the answer is no.”

“You didn’t have to say the answer, okay? Got the gist.” His movements became dorkier by the second, his fingers coming to his face. “It was rhetorical- I knew that!” 

“Wow, learned that big boy word from your girlfriend?”

“Big boy?! I- That’s not even-“ before Luke went on, Y/N cut in: “Alright,” she lifted her hand, “What happened, Flynn? What do you need?”

“It’s Julie-“

“Don’t tell me she broke another shoe. I don’t have an extra-extra pair.”

“No.” Flynn’s eyes widened, “I actually- I don’t know what it is. She just told me to get you and come to her together.” The girl sighed, “She looked sad.” 

“Oh,” Y/N said, a frown coming to her face. A sad Julie is a Julie that should never be in this world. Other than thinking about the absence of her mother, Y/N’s cousin knew how to smile even when things got tough, so if she was feeling down now, and it was evident, it must’ve been important. 

“Yeah. So come? Like now?” Flynn grabbed Y/N’s hand and Y/N looked at her own opposite hand that was currently attached to Luke’s, trailing her eyes up to his face. 

“Well, I’ll just go too.” He insisted, “I want to help Julie, and,” He spoke directly to Y/N, “I don’t mind.”

“She didn’t ask for you.” Flynn snapped back. 

“It’ll be fine.” Y/N decided, “It’s not like we all don’t know her well anyway, right?”

“Yeah, let's go. And then we can just get back, hopefully. I want to spend tonight with you.” Luke said that last part more softly, but apparently not quietly enough. 

“Oh god!” Flynn vexed. “Haven’t you spent all week stuck to her mouth?”  Through snickers she said, “Let her come up for some air, bruv.” Then, letting go of Y/N's hand as she turns, leading the couple to the staircase, she continued: “And really you should be relaxing all those throat muscles or whatever. I've got you in two open mic night cafes next week and that kids party at the restaurant tomorrow, AND on Sunday Julie said she wanted to record that new song for the YouTube channel.” She slapped the side of her hand to the inside of the other, creating a chopping effect, “We got things to do! I’m trying to make sure you guys stay safe and have fun, but we shouldn’t be here all night.”

Luke rolled his eyes, as much as he loved playing, he hated being bossed around like this. “It's New Year’s Eve!” He complained, yet there was still a hint of playfulness in his voice. “Mind you, this is being said by the girl who agreed to DJ at this party.”

“I didn’t agree! I got reeled into it— Difference, see! This kid comes out of nowhere to bring me onto his home stage— man, he’s rich—- and asks me if I could change the tracks, put something fun on. How am I supposed to say no? It is his birthday and everything that was on before was terrible!”

“That we can agree on,” Luke noted with a laugh.

Y/N added on, after her long silence of listening to the two go back and forth, “You finally got everyone dancing.”

“I did! Thank you!” Flynn appreciated the acknowledgment, especially from Luke, but nonetheless, she persists on her earlier claim, “That being said, I really think we should leave by 10.”

“10?!” Luke repeats with annoyance. “Tomorrow’s gig starts at six. PM. And might I remind you again: it's freakin New Years Eve! We have to stay till the ball drops!”

“We have to practice one last time and we have to get there bef-“

“Alright, alright, boss.” Luke was done arguing (for the time being.) Instead his eyes followed Y/N’s who was no longer listening, bored of her best friend and boyfriend’s little fighting game, as they looked for Julie in the clusters of kids all around the room on the main floor. “Let’s just look for Jules so we can get back. And can we make it to midnight at the least? Please? I mean, come on, there no food at the Molina house to celebrate with and you were having fun up there with those turntables.” He started to smile cheekily at Flynn, “Don’t deny it.”

Flynn took in a sharp breath as she thought. Nick did have access to some sick equipment and has always been so kind enough to share, so it would be fun to play around some more. “We’ll see how I feel at 11. And by the way, we do have things to celebrate with at the garage. I bought stuff specifically so you guys wouldn’t complain when we left,” she went on, the three taking another turn, “We’re going to have some fun here till 10, or 11 I guess, get back to the garage, celebrate New Years— woo-hoo!— and then you guys are settled down by 12:15, 30 the latest. I don’t care if you’re not asleep, just not outside.” Seeing Luke’s face rise up again she defends herself,  “It's not my fault you phantoms have terrible time management skills! You guys literally have transportation powers and you’re either late or not present. It’s crazy! I need to make sure you’re there and we get paid. Period.”

Luke suppressed a grunt as Y/N rubbed his shoulders, laughing a bit at the truth of Flynn’s statement. 

Then, to console Luke, she whispered in his ear, “No matter where we are, I’ll be there. Plan still intact.” 

“True.” Luke whispered back, rubbing his nose on the side of her head. 

Luke liked his freedom. He was used to calling the shots when it came to the band, only taking on co-captain position as Julie challenged him with just as much leadership star power as he contained. This made Flynn appointing herself as band manager not something to be desired exactly, especially when she made decisions like this on their down time. He didn’t quite enjoy being told where to go and when, but on the other hand, he couldn’t help to admit to himself that the tech savvy skills both her and Y/N brought to the table were tremendously helpful. The 90s boy was used to walking around town trying to find the next cafe for the guys to play at that he didn’t know how easy it was in this digital world to find venues he never even heard of through the internet. This made him never forget to say thank you after a gig she or Y/N would find from their endless online searchings. And on Flynn’s end, she never forgot to commend Luke on his writing skills when he happened to be the scribe for one of the band’s songs she happened to enjoy, but other than that, they did not have that much to say to each other. 

Despite the natural banter and quips  that would suggest they were well acquainted, they were actually still quite awkward. Luke was used to admiring her relationship with Julie and Y/N from afar, and for Flynn, after the boys came back to life she didn’t know exactly how to fit herself into the group. Of course she was a part of it, Y/N made certain of it as she herself had also felt strange about her placement in Julie’s new friend group before Julie formally introduced her to them, not knowing that her cousin could also see ghost like she could, but overall, Flynn felt just the tiniest bit embarrassed that the boys she once called ‘cute ghosts’-- more than twice-- heard her say that and all the other things she’d say not knowing they were around (Julie told her they could sometimes snoop in unbeknownst to even her at times. ‘They don’t know boundaries,’ she would say.) Flynn especially felt this way when one of those ex-ghosts was Luke who knew he was ‘cute,’  as she once said, and would bother her about it endlessly when he was first able to communicate with her. 

Were they friends? Or was it simply that Luke was just a friend of her friends and that Flynn was just the friend of his girlfriend and mutual friend. Neither of them knew where their relationship stood. This caused Flynn to use her wit as a defense mechanism or to only begin a conversation with the guy when it was about something band related. ‘You kind of act like siblings,’ Y/N would tell them when they were at it. Both of them gawked at the word. ‘Siblings?!’

Around another corner the three went, passing the open space below the home stage that was being used as a dance floor. They went to the room adjacent to it. It was another rather large area, though this one was filled with more furniture, a lot in fact, perhaps to make space for the makeshift dance area. There was also an unused fireplace which caught the eyes of Y/N who yanked on the connected hand of Luke’s and then Flynn to take notice of who sat on the ledge. 

The water bunching up in her eyes sparked white from the room's fluorescent gleaming lights, making her tears look much bigger and shinier. It made the group feel bad they didn’t find her sooner. 

“Julie!” They all exclaimed in unison though Luke’s reaction was filled with the most apparent fret: the glow of the lights and his wide eye expression showed clearly how his eyes were growing greener with questions and worry. “What happened?” He tried to ask softly, not knowing how to react to her tears. The attempt at softness then immediately changed into one of starting frustration as he sat down next to his poor bandmate, hand on her knee, looking toward Flynn, “Why didn’t you tell us she was like this?” 

“Because she wasn’t like this when I left!” Flynn countered, coming to sit down next to Julie on her left side as Luke had taken the right. 

“Why do you always-“

“Enough guys,” Y/N silenced them for the third time that night. She noticed how Julie was shying away from both of their faces, not wanting to show them her tears. Julie was strong; a fighter; she sometimes much rather fake out her friends by smiling through her problems before she was ready to talk about them. Y/N knew all of this, related to it in fact, and could sense the possible embarrassment she must’ve been feeling. Not only did she create a movie moment for herself by being the girl crying at a party, but she was crying in front of her friends, when she was typically the person who tried to inspire hope, for she was the front man of her own band after all. 

Y/N could also sense— guessing by the way she mostly was turning her face from Luke— that it was a boy problem. Not that Luke’s jittery expression, or close proximity to her face was helping her open up either. 

Luke was trying to work on being more helpful in moments where his friends were in tears, but sometimes he could be a little too aggressive, or ‘extra,’ as Flynn would put it and Alex would agree, adding the new slang term to his vocabulary. 

Y/N took a seat in front of her on the ground, rubbing her friend's arm. “It’s okay, Jules. Nobody cares what you look like. You can tell us.” 

“I know, it’s just-“ she sucked her teeth, looking up, head still tilted to Flynn’s side. “It’s stupid.”

 “No ones going to judge you,” Y/N promised, pointing her head to Luke’s direction for Julie to see. 

“Yeah, and I bet it’s not ‘stupid’ anyway.” Flynn added.

“Nothings stupid if it made you cry, Jules.” Luke chimed in, finally agreeing with Flynn on something for the second time this night. “Who was it? I’ll beat them up for you.” He joked.

“Oh my god, no!” Julie tittered just a little while trying to wipe away all her tears. “And please never say something like that again. You sound like a dad.”

“Well he is supposed to be like 40 or something,” Flynn said, making the both of her best friends laugh. Julie specifically shook her head at this moment of Flynn and Luke’s typical banter, it was the first time she was getting a whiff of it tonight. Although she appreciated the entertainment they brought when in a room together, she agreed with Y/N that they were relentless. 

Luke let that one go, seeing how it finally brought a smile to the girl’s face, “There she is.”

Julie rolled her eyes at him, sighing as her fit of giggles passed, “Okay,” she started slowly, “Well... it was Nick… and I know it’s stupid-“

“-Not stupid.” Her friends finished.

“But you know, he invited me to this party. Directly! Said he wanted to hang out- to dance. When we came, the party just started so he had to say hi to people, that made sense, and he told me to stay near the main floor, so I waited. And then my shoe broke, and then some girl spilled some of that fondue on the bottom of my dress which I had to get out with bathroom wipes, so that was annoying. Then next thing you know it’s an hour later and all I’ve done is eat pizza and watch Flynn at the turntables…”

Julie went on. She explained that finally Nick showed up again , but as he was walking to her, Carrie had just arrived at the party, stopping him in his tracks. Apparently her gift was too heavy to bring inside, so she wanted to take him to her car to show him right then and there. “He said he’d be five minutes tops. Told me to come here by the fireplace, so again, I waited. Then five minutes turned into fifteen, so I got up.” She sidetracked, “That’s not me. Just sitting there, waiting, waiting, waiting. I felt dumb. That's when I walked to the backyard to see what was going on out there, find something to do after all this time, but funny enough that’s where I found Nick and Carrie, laughing, dancing, having a great time.” She wipes a new stray tear, “I decided to look for you,” she nodded to Y/N, “And it’s no offense Flynn, you know I love you, it’s just that I didn’t want to hear you tell me that ‘he’s not worth it’ at the moment.” She gave herself a pity laugh, “I’m currently feeling a little bad for myself as you can see.” 

“I’m so sorry Julie.” Y/N started. “But Flynn only tells you the facts like that because she thinks you’re so worthy of more.” 

“So much more,” Flynn added on, moving closer to Julie.

 “But I get it, it's not fair.” consoled Y/N. “I try to always consider his actions in those instances with Carrie as him just being a pacifist, but if he said he wanted to be with you and continuously told you he would, then he should’ve been here.”

“Agreed, but also, being a pacifist doesn’t mean to always stay quiet though, you can find a way to keep the peace and still do what’s right.” Luke spoke up. “He shouldn’t let Carrie always take him away like that.”

Y/N gave Luke a smile, “Insightful.”

“Strangely,” Flynn chimed in, “but exactly right. Not to mention how it’s not fair— no matter how nice he is— for him to just let Carrie keep saying whatever the hell she wants without calling her out.” 

“I just feel like I shouldn’t be so beat up. It is his birthday after all. He can do what he wants.” Muttered Julie.

“No!” Y/N told her. “You feel like you wasted your time, I get that! It’s his birthday, but your feelings are still important.” 

“Also,” Luke started, “Julie, I mean, come on! You could do so much better. So what? He’s like 18 now? Well I’m 18 now too, supposed to be 40 something apparently and I look like this! This! Compared to Nick?  Julie… girl!” He stated her name again, smiled wide, “I know Molina’s have better taste than that. Not to say what you didn’t want to hear, but, it’s true: he’s not worth it. Period.” He mimicked Flynn with the last word. 

Both Flynn and Julie gagged, “Oh my god,” they said in union. Y/N just put her face in her hands.

“You were actually doing well, and then you just go and screw it up like that?” Flynn sighed. 

“Now you went from a dad to sounding like a whole ratty teenage boy.” She rolled her eyes teasingly, trying to conceal her laughter at his conceited remark, “Disgusting.”

“Well as long as I got you to stop crying, that’s all that matters anyway.” He laughed goofily, invading her personal space once again. 

“Yeah,” Julie realized with a contented sigh. It seemed all the company she really needed was her friends. 

“Well, I think the only thing to do now is make up for all that time wasted, huh?”  Y/N spoke with a smirk. “If he doesn’t want to be your dance partner, it looks like you’re going to have to take on three instead.” 

“Fuck yeah,” Luke said, jumping up, grabbing Y/N and Julie’s hands and running to the dance floor.

Flynn called to the group, as she parted from them, heading to the stage, “Lemme change the song!” 

“OOOH!” Luke roared as the ooos and aahs of Donna and the Dynamos filled the room. “One of the best things to come out of the 2000s!” 

Julie and Y/N laughed at the surprisingly grand amount of love Luke had for Mamma Mia! 

Luke imitated the hustle, sticking his tongue out,  shaking his hips, and making Y/N dance along with him, moving around Julie who looked at them incredulously. 

“Come oooon,” he said to Julie’s direction, “Nobody can NOT like this song.” And after that Julie gave in, agreeing that a Mamma Mia and ABBA song was too good not to dance to. Flynn came up right behind her, making the dancing trio into a group of four. 

From jumping, to slides and shoulder grooves, and even forming their own little dancing circle the four lived in the song, seeing the last of Julie’s worry wash away as the speakers blasted the words “Dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen,” to which Julie’s friends made sure to spotlight her on as their hands sprinkled up and down spirit fingers as she twirled, enjoying her title that fit perfectly with her age. 

“Thanks guys,” Julie smiled sweetly, still jumping to the beat.

“WOOOO!” Luke hollered into the crowd, taking Y/N’s hand, swaying and jumping with her exclusively now. 

“WOO!” She yelled back.

“LOUDER, LOUDER!” He yelled in her face, shaking his head, his hair imitating a lion’s mane as he gritted his teeth, getting closer to her face. 

“WOOOOO!” She yelled, trying to match her boyfriend’s energy. 

“YES, Y/N. WOOO!” They kept jumping and he spun her around, letting her twirl into his grasp. He held her closer, one arm tightly around her waist while the other still held her hand, stepping and swaying side to side in a fast pace in order to keep up with the quick musical tune. Her laughs of surprisement to his actions filled him with pride. She was usually so focused on making her friends smile, she could sometimes forget to just have fun for herself. She dropped anything to tend to their needs, which is why tonight was important. At her first party he was going to make her smile and have fun, and that ended with a New Year’s kiss. Hopefully, he could find a way to hide from Flynn— and his friends for that matter— till that time to make it happen. 

Finally the song died down and a rush of endorphins filled the floor as almost everyone in the area, even those who typically didn’t dance joined along to the jumping motion the four started at the beginning of the song. “Should I change it?” Flynn asked Julie as the next song started, noticing how different the vibe of this song was from the last: slower, more romantic.

“No,” Julie told Flynn as she watched Luke take his arms closer into Y/N’s sides, “Let’s let them have their moment.”

Y/N arms went around Luke’s neck, and his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling each other closer while swaying in a circular motion. He connected their foreheads. His eyes fixated on her own. They were so gentle, so sweet, so comforting, he felt safe looking in them. He could stay that way forever.

“Luke?”

Luke sighed, once again just minutes of feeling release ruined. “Yeah, bud?” It was Alex. 

“I’m sorry to bother you, but this kid Reginald-“ 

“Don’t tell me he lost the dog again. I don’t want to look for it.”

“It’s not the dog! Well, not this time. I think he’s finally realized that we can’t take it home with us. It’s-“ Alex started snickering which then turned into great belly laughs he couldn’t stop, “I just- I can’t- I can’t- just please,” he had no control. “Please I need your help!”

“What the hell, Alex?”

“Just-“ Alex put his hand over his mouth, trying to conceal his laughs. He motioned Luke with his other hand, walking away. 

Luke kept his hand in Y/N’s, bringing her along with him, “I don’t want to get split up again, like last time with the dog.”

“It’s not the dog!” Alex exclaimed, still laughing. 

The three were now on the right side of the house, near the pool door that also stood to the right and in the area sat a couch and pool table. The wall on the left side had a small vent near the floor which is where they found Reggie, hip deep in the square hole.

“HELLO!” Reggie wagged his butt, for his friends to see, “Did you bring Luke?”

“Yeah!” Alex answered “Do you see now? He’s stuck!”

“How and why?!” Y/N asked, now joining in with Alex’s uncontrollable laughter as Reggie kept shaking his butt. Quickly Luke couldn’t help himself either.

“No! Y/N is here?” Reggie asked, “Y/N I’m so sorry you have to see me like this. I haven’t been doing my squats recently. I know I don’t look in the best of shape-“

“I think that’s the last thing I’m worried about, Reg,” Y/N said, still losing her breath along with Alex who yelled an incredulous ‘what?!’ at his words. 

“No one cares about your glutes, bro.” Luke shook his head, laughing with the two. 

“Well I do!” Reggie fought back. “I don’t wear these skinny jeans for nothing!”

Alex’s laughter from Reggie’s wackiness turned into one of apprehension. “Well there are more important things to worry about! Like my date being almost two hours late and also how I don’t even know what to say to him because I haven’t seen him in like two months and it's New Year’s Eve and yeah, okay, okay- Stop shaking your ass!”

“Okay,” Y/N held his shoulders, still losing her breath, “Willie is going to come, alright?  It'll be fine, but-“

“Let’s deal with gluteus minimus first.” Luke finished.

“That’s not even-“

“I don’t care.” Luke finished for Alex this time. “I’ll take the right leg, Alex, take the left. Pull!”

Ow! Ow! Ow!” Reggie yelped.

“PULL!”

“Ow! Stop!” 

“It’s going to hurt till we get you out, Reg” Alex explained. “And why isn’t Y/N helping?”

“Oh, sorry,” She was caught up in the hysterics. 

“Oh that’s right,” Luke noticed. “Take the right, I’ll hold onto his feet and pull from the back. On three. 1, 2, 3, PULL!”

“WAIT!” Reggie yelled.

“WHAT?” Alex yelled back.

“Luke said on three, but you pulled at ‘pull’, or really after pull, so is it really ‘on three’ or do you want it to be ‘on pull’ or ‘after three’ or ‘after pull’?”

Alex shook his head, “Does it matter?!”

Reggie’s voice cracked, “Just asking!”

“Okay, ON pull!” Luke clarified, “1,2,3, PULL”

“NO! WAIT!”

“WHAT?!” The three pullers yelled. 

“I felt a tear in my jacket, I love this jacket.”

“Oh god,” the boys complained.

“I think it’s just going to have to tear for us to get you out,” Y/N told him. 

“But you gave it to me!” Y/N heard the sadness in his voice. It was a brown leather jacket with long strands of fringe on either side. She thought it went perfectly with his banjo and love for country music. It also had big inside pockets that could hold all his little treasures, and whatever he had in his pocket today is probably the reason why it was so hard to get him out. 

“Maybe Victoria knows a good dry cleaner that can give us a discount,” she reasoned. 

“Tía does always have very nicely pressed clothes,” Reggie agreed, as an honorary Molina— self appointed, but appreciated by most— he felt that it was okay to address Victoria as such. 

“Yeah,” She laughed at his words, “So are you going to tell me how you got stuck?”

“Well I knew there was going to be a pool table here so I brought my lucky gold eight ball-” Reggie had a lucky every- “And it kind of just fell in here.”

Alex corrected him, “You mean you were getting too cocky at the game and knocked the ball so hard that it fell in there.”

“Potatoes, tomatoes, uh, spaghetti! It doesn't matter now, I got my ball and now I need you guys to help me get out.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Luke nodded, “You ready Reg?”

“...No!”

“You want to make out with the rats? They have diseases.” Alex sarcastically noted.

“They’re misunderstood creatures!” Reggie stated on their behalf. Reggie’s butt buzzed, “Oh that's my phone, that feels weird, “ he laughed. 

“Phone!’ Alex's eyes widened, “Where’s my phone?” He dropped Reggie’s leg

“Alex!” Luke exclaimed want to get this over with.

“Willie texted, he said he’ll be here in thirty- thirty minutes!” 

“Anything else,” Y/N asked.

“He’s excited to spend the New Years with me” He said softly, unsurely.

“That's great.” Everyone agreed, happy for the boy. 

“Are you going to text back?” Y’N asked excitedly, happy with the idea of Alex’s romance coming to life. 

“Oh yeah!” Alex’s face faltered, “Shit. It just died.”

“Just get Reggie’s,” Luke shrugged, “But after we get him out!”

After 3 more tries at “ON PULLS,” Alex, Luke, and Y/N were able to get Reggie out, only tearing his jacket on the left side.

“Thanks guys” Reggie said appreciatively. 

As Luke patted Reggie back Alex spoke: “Um, hey, Y/N?” He asked quietly, hands in his pocket, “Mind if I steal you for a second?”

“Sure,” she smiled sweetly at him, turning the corner so they could have a little bit of privacy. 

“I’m nervous.” He sighed, “ I already spoke to Luke about it before we left for tonight, so he’s already given me all the inspiration he’s got, but I’m still not sure of it all… He took the whole coming back to life hard, but I didn’t think he would take it so hard that he would separate himself from us, from me. ” The boy frowned. 

“I think he really liked being a ghost,” Y/N started.

“Yeah and we ruined his whole life,”

“We didn’t ruin his life, we saved it. He’s free, just like you guys. And…” Y/N trailed off trying to find the words, “Hm, well, I think he was just a ghost so long it became a part of his identity, and now that part left him, it must’ve been hard to take in. Should he have been more verbal about needing space? Yes. You deserved that. If you want to tell him that, you should, especially if it’ll help relieve whatever thoughts you’ve got suck up there. I’m sure he will be apologetic if you ask calmly, try to see it from his perspective. And that way he can be empathetic to your perspective as well, you know? On the other hand, you can also take this New Year in stride and just like go to the past and have a good time with him. Or do both!” She put an arm on his shoulder, giving him a warm closed smile. 

He nodded taking in her words, trying to remember what she said as she said it.

“You got this, okay? What does Luke say? Step into your greatness?”

“Heh,” he laughed, “Greatness is usually for Julie, awesomeness is mine, not saying that I am awesome though, it’s- it’s just what he says.”

“Well it’s because it’s true. You’re awesome, Alex. Just be open hearted and your awesomeness will shine through.”

“But.. how?”

“Didn’t I- Never mind. Okay, from what I know, Willie already knows you, and likes you, and enjoys talking to you, so there are no awkward first encounters to be made. You’ll see him and all you need to do is be prepared to say hi, that is unless you want to talk to him about the past, and then it will go off from there. I feel it ending up well, I promise. And even if it doesn’t? Show him the food. Everyone loves food.”

“Hi- maybe past- food- got it.” He turned, but Y/N quickly grabbed him. 

“Wait, but don’t just think about that. Remember: He’s coming because he wants to see YOU. He wants to spend New Years with YOU. That’s what his message said right?”

“Right.” It seemed Alex forgot. 

“So believe it. Live in that message.” 

“Okay,” he started to smile lightly, though still a little wearily. “Thanks… He wants to see me, he WANTS to see me, live in it.” He repeated her words. 

Alex gave her Reggie’s phone, asking her to message Willie one last time stating that he would be waiting for him by the front of the house by the band’s van. She did so and turned the corner hoping to find both Reggie and Luke, but unfortunately the latter person was not in sight. 

“Reg, where’s Luke?”

“Y/N! Meet Amelie Laurent,” Reggie introduced the girl sitting next to him, imitating a French accent as he said her name. “She’s a foreign exchange student from France. She likes my jacket.” He said with a smirk. 

Y/N guessed he didn’t hear her question.

“Nice to meet you,” the girl said giggling at Reggie’s antics. “Comment tu t’appelles?” She asked.

“Uh, yes.” Y/N stared blankly, watching the girls face fall, “I’m just kidding, it’s Y/N. I know that much at least.” Both you and the girl laughed. 

“Aw look, my girls getting along!” 

“Your girl?” Amelie questioned.

“Well maybe not yet,” Reggie winked while wiggling a brow. 

“You should get Luke and come hang out with me and Miss Amelie Laurent.” Reggie once again pronounced her name with the most fake sounding French accent he could muster, having fun with how the name rolled off his tongue. 

“Speaking of that,” Y/N handed him his phone, “Do you know where he went?”

“Well he didn’t go through the pool door because that’s where my Amelie Laurent came from, so I’m guessing back there,” Reggie pointed his thumb behind him.

“Alright, then I guess I’m going that way. Nice to meet you Miss Amelie.” She giggled, attempting her own French accent.

-

About 10 minutes had passed. Y/N had walked around to the backyard, upstairs to some rooms, to the dance floor, the kitchen, stopping along the way when Julie and Flynn caught her in their sight till she found herself back by the pool table. Reggie’s banjo and doggy friend was present but not he nor his lady friend, or Luke. Y/N wondered if she should finally try the pool door till she heard a sound, a voice actually. As she walked down the hallway she was just minutes before, she heard his voice. 

It was Luke, his tones muffled by the music and talking inside, but she could hear it, it filled her senses, making her heart flutter to hear his singing as it belted a tune much more soulful then the usual pop or rock songs the band sang. He was outside, in the backyard, one of the first places she looked. As she almost reached the back door, she was pushed rather harshly, by someone with wheels, skateboard wheels. 

“Whoa! Sorry!” It was Willie. “You’re Y/N right?” He smiled, running his fingers through his hair as he took off his helmet. “I know we’ve never really spoken, but we know of each other.”

“We do,”  Y/N said pleasantly. 

“I’m glad I finally found one of you, I’m totally lost.”

“Well I think Luke was just outside there, actually.”

“Oh really? God I was going so fast I wasn’t even thinking. Or looking would be correct, right? Anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t see you there, sometimes I still think I’ll just go through people. Can’t believe I have to walk indoors now.” He rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Life of the living,” she tried to joke, “I’m sorry. I know it must be strange.”

“Yeah, better than being under Caleb though.”

“Right,” Y/N nodded. 

“Oh, sorry,” 

“No don’t be. I’ll never know him like you did. No emotional tie here.”

“Um,” An awkward silence erupted, “So since you’re the only one in the group I’ve found you want to play a game?” 

“A game?” She asked, confused.

“Yeah!” He raised his brow.

“And what game would this be?” 

“The Where’s Alex game. If you have the answer I’ll love you forever. I already know I’m super late.”

“Oh!” she laughed at the realization, “He’s at the front! You didn’t see him? Or see the text?”

“My phone died,” He pulled out the device as proof, the glass was severely cracked, “I’m not sure how to properly take care of it as you can see. No wonder I make it die so fast.”

“His phone died too, strangely enough. But he’s waiting for you at the front entrance. You didn’t come from that way?”

“No, I didn’t know if someone would stop me if I went that way because I wasn’t actually invited. I never really did this kind of thing in the past. It’s my first time.” 

“Really? It’s my first too, but for you? You seem so cool to me to never be invited.”

“Well the actual definition of cool and high schoolers definition of cool is wildly different. We’re obviously a different breed, you and I. Better.” He joked. 

“Well thank you.” She could tell why Willie liked him. “Alex is by the white van, it has ghosts painted all over it so you can’t miss it.”

“Thank you!”

“Of course!”

As he was about to walk away, skateboard in hand, he stopped, “Can I be honest?”

“Sure.” She smiled nodding at him to continue.

“I’m a little nervous. I know that’s his thing so I should try to get over it, but I can’t help it. This not being a ghost thing has been hard, you know? Is he mad? I didn’t mean to separate myself…” he faultured. Although Y/N knew Alex’s half of the story, Willie and her were still newly acquainted, it made sense why he felt the need to stop himself from possibly over sharing. 

“He can’t wait to see you.” She reassured him, ending the silence. “It’s literally why he decided to stay by the front. He wanted you to find him right away. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“You sure?”

She confirmed, “Absolutely positive.”

“Alright, thanks again. And nice to meet you! You know, not just by me peering through windows and being creepy. Sorry.”

“Ghosts will be ghosts.” Y/N shrugged. She watched as Willie gave her a laugh and started to walk away. 

“Y/N,” the sweet voice from the backyard called for her again, this time saying her name.

“Luke,” her eyes brightened, turning around.

“Found you.” He grinned, intertwining their fingers on both sides. 

“Well really I would have found you first. I heard your voice, from the backyard, but Willie stopped me before I could go.”

“Ah, you heard my call for you.”

“For me?” He hummed in response.

“I’ll pretend that’s true.” 

“Good,” Luke brought one of her hands up to his lips, kissing it softly. “So where have you been in the last twenty?”

“Well I was looking for you. Reggie said you didn’t go through the pool door so-“

“I did.”

You did?”

“I did! He probably didn’t mention it because he was so focused on-

“Miss Amelie Laurent!” You both said in unison, French accents prevalent. 

“He said you went back here so I went to the backyard, but you weren’t there, so I went upstairs back to Nick room, and you don’t want to know what I saw in there-”

“Ooo tell me,”  his eyes were eager.

“Anyway, I went back down stairs, found Julie near the kitchen— we shared a cupcake— and then she asked me if I would go to the dance floor with her and find someone to talk to so I did that, but then Flynn can said she lost her bracelet so we three had to look for that one, then I came back to the pool table, heard you singing, bumped into Willie, asked me where Alex was, and then I think he needed some advice— he and Alex are literally having the same problem, it’s kind of cute— and then you finally came. That’s my story.”

Luke's mouth was open, eyes going around in a circle as she went on her tangent, hanging onto every word, he thought it was pretty adorable. “Well, my story is much shorter. When I picked Reggi up, you disappeared.”

“Oh, Alex asked me to speak to him, all we did was turn the corner.”

“I didn’t know, but then some guy from the pool came up to me asked me if I could show him some cords from a phantom song and before I could say yes he was pushing me out the door. I helped him, went back inside, met Miss Amelie Laurent, walked to the backyard because Reggie said you went that way, and there I stayed.”

“If only I went back.”

“We’re good now.” Though a smile still ghosted his face he felt a sudden suppression wash over him, “Are you having fun, Y/N/N?”

“I- Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know… I just know it’s your first party here and I wanted you to have a good time, but at every second someone needs you, or someone needs me, and we’ve been pulled around and around and around,-“ Luke moves his head left to right, a rasp in his voice like a motor engine as he repeated the word for effect, “-that I feel like you’re not letting yourself get into some trouble like everyone else.”

“Trouble?”

“Lack of a better word,” he smiled smugly. “I’m just saying, you’re not Julie and the Phantoms glorified assistant-”

“Neither are you. You’ve done just as much as me tonight.” She reasoned. 

“Yeah, but that’s because I was trying to stick with you and lessen the load. You know you do so much for us all the time.”

“I guess I just like you guys too much.” she shrugged, matching his playful tone from before.

“Like just me a little bit more then.” He moved closer, placing his fingers on her jaw, “Hmm?”

He finally kissed her, a real kiss this time. His other hand moved to her neck as her hands moved to his arms. The hand on her jaw lifted her chin higher, deepening the action.

“People are watching,” she said through a breath, eyes alert. 

Before going back in he said, “No one's watching,” Then after a peck, “And no one cares.” His hands slid to her waist, head tilting to the other side, he hummed, causing Y/N’s hands to fall to his cheeks, quickly sliding her fingers against his chest; she was lost in the moment. 

Slowly Luke’s feet moved backwards, moving one of the hands that was wrapped around his waist to her hip as he motioned her against the wall. “Ow,” Y/N yelped, the black and blue Flynn gave her earlier pulsing again. 

Luke’s hand came to her head, cushioning it against the wall. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“So did I,” she laughed. 

The both smiled at each other, Luke forehead connecting with hers, he rubbed his nose against her own etching more bits of laughter out of her. He relished in the noises, the closeness, the feeling. 

Looking down he noticed their shoes, Y/N’s original chucks in the middle of both vans. He didn’t care what shoes she wore, but he much appreciated how she had to change her footwear for Julie because now they matched… somewhat. The black and white pallets, but different designs; similar, but different; individuals, but connected. He liked it. “Nice shoes, kid.”

“Thanks,” she laughed, “Not what I originally intended, but they work.”

“Work better, in my opinion.” He moved back, extending her arms out as he held her hands. He was surveying how her black dress with white polka dots perfectly matched the color scheme of the converse. “Perfect.”

Once again she blushed, but didn’t respond. Instead she made a remark about his own shoes. “You know, I don’t understand how you wear those everyday, yet they aren’t all dirty like mine.”

“Well I used to be a ghost, when I was walking my feet weren’t actually treading on the Earth.” 

“Well that was three months ago.”

“Almost three months ago,” he corrected, for that’s when their official relationship started. Luke always thought she was pretty, right from the moment he saw her, but it wasn’t love at first sight, not even like. She was a little quiet, at least with him and the boys and they all noticed. With Julie and Flynn she smiled brightly and chatted constantly, or that’s what he would hear when he would come to Julie’s room, hearing her voice through the door. It was a sweet voice, empathetic, understanding; he thought it sounded like music, and not only did he wonder how his name would sound on her lips, but he felt connected to it. He understood the desire to make others feel good. Through his singing he tried to make people feel seen, make their problems validated, and he could tell she tried to do that with her words. 

For Y/N at first, she wanted Julie to have the band for herself. She thought that this was one of the few things making her feel happy during this dark time of Tía Rose’s passing, so she didn’t want to step in too much, not to mention the realization that she could see ghosts wasn’t exactly the easiest things for her to get her head around the way Julie did. But her elusiveness only made Luke more curious, and when Luke was curious, he was persistent in finding out whatever it was he wanted to know. 

First, he would ask Julie to bring Y/N down for their rehearsals and she would, sometimes, but nothing gave. Y/N would most give Julie feedback, shying away from the ghosts gaze, still unsure how to interact. Then, he just started asking Julie about her cousin, little questions here and there till Julie finally got tired and told him to just go talk to her himself. This is where he was at a stand still as he was unsure how to approach her. Finally, after noticing how her room lights would shine quite far into the night, he decided to go up there, telling himself he would just ask her why she sleeps so late, that he only noticed because he likes to take walks at night. It sounded reasonable to him. 

This is when he realized how similar Molina’s are: Always trying to be brave for others. After she told him she always had trouble falling asleep unless it was specifically her bed at home, but didn’t want to tell anyone else because it would bother them. She wanted to stay here for Julie and for the friendships she was finally making at Los Feliz, so Luke decided to start a tradition with her: late night bike rides. It was a way to tire her out and a way for him to get some alone time with her. Him taking a bike from the garage, and her using her own she brought from her old home. They rode separately, but together, letting the quiet road open them up to the other. Telling each other stories, discussing interests, consoling each other when they were feeling down. Luke never knew how close you could feel to someone else by just conversation until he had to do it with Y/N. It made him appreciate her in a way he’d never felt before. 

They were not friends, they knew that fairly quickly, but they didn’t hurt each other by talking about being more. It was just an unspoken agreement that they hung out with each other exclusively in the way that they did, but they never spoke of romantics. Their rides were special, only for them. That’s why when he became alive the first thing he wanted to do, after celebrating with everyone, was take a ride with her. One bike this time. Her heels on the bars and she heads onto his shoulders, showing her where he used to grow up. That’s what he always wanted to do. 

“Not enough time,” Luke said in response to Y/N who mentioned that wearing the same two pairs of shoes for 3 months had to have made them a little messed up, but he was talking about them, thinking about how short of a time ago it was that he got got be with her this way. It was a long year of just knowing her without the sense of touch. He felt lucky. Once again, he dipped his hands on the side of her face, starting to go in till-

“Hey, Y/N! And oh, Luke! Hey man.” It was the New Years Eve birthday boy.

“Oh, hey, Nick,” Y/N said, maintaining a kind disposition although she knew how his actions made Julie feel. 

“Um,” he laughed awkwardly at Luke’s stoicism, it was unnatural for his character and even Nick knew that by now, “Well I was wondering if you knew where Julie was. I’ve been looking for her everywhere.”

“Really?” Luke questioned.

“Yeah, I promised her a dance,” he laughed, “or really she promised me one because we all know I suck.”

Y/N laughed kindheartedly at his deprecation. She was still trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. Carrie does have a dominating attitude, and with someone as tender Nick it would make sense that he got roped into whatever it was even at his own party, but looking at Luke’s face and knowing how she felt earlier, she decided to to be upfront, “Look Nick, you don’t have to say anything, but I think you like Julie, and I don’t know if Julie likes you, but let’s say she does: You’re sending mixed signals. I get you and Carrie have a history and that she can be bossy, but you make your own choices. If you want to hang out with a certain someone, I think you should put your foot down and make it a priority to do that.” She tried to be ambiguous, obviously failing throughout. 

Nick sighed, “I know… I have no excuse. But that’s why I’ve been trying to find her. I want to hang out with her, do a- I don’t know-“

“‘I don’t know?’” Luke intervened, restating his words, unsure about the possible actions behind them.

“I mean like... New Year's kiss, I- don’t laugh at me Y/N!”

“No! I think it’s sweet. I'm only laughing because I’ve understood your pain, Nick.”

Nick laughed alongside her albeit he was still mostly laughing at himself. Luke kept his grumpy face, eyebrows twitching. “Well if that’s what you want, go get it before the Carrie snatches you up again”

“But even if she does,” Luke started. 

“Put your foot down.” Y/n finished “You know, Stand Tall, like the phantoms song.”

“‘Whatever happens’  he snickered, waving his finger as he said the lyric in hopes to ease the tension with Luke, but he was not amused. 

“Exactly,” Y/N smiled, paying her boyfriend's chest. 

“Right,” Luke agreed, he was really only saying it for Y/N. “Nice basketball sheets by the way”

“Hey, come on, my dad got those for me. It’s nostalgic, you know? Anyway, so I know you guys were busy and I’m sorry that I interrupted anything, but do you think you could help me find her? I really want to find her.”

“Listen Nick,” Luke started once again, it was getting late and he still had a plan he wanted to maintain. 

“Y/N! So there’s this gu- Nick, oh-“

“Julie, I’ve been looking for you!” Nick exclaimed, happy to see her. 

“You have?”

“Apparently,” Luke answered. 

“Well Nick, actually I-“

“Wait. Julie, wait. I- um, I was also looking for all you phantoms actually. I mean I was going to find you and talk to you first and the ask about this later but hey two out of the four are here so,”

“What are you talking about?” Julie asks, hoping he’d get to the point.

“I was wondering if you could play a song? Just one. I don’t have a bass but I’ve got a drum kit on stage already and I’ve got plenty of electrics. The party’s coming to a close and I thought this would be one last thing to bring it all together to make a great night. I know it’s last minute,”

“Nick-“

“Julie.” He stopped, stumbling with his words, till he finally felt sure of what to say, “I’m beating around the bush. What I really need to say is I’m sorry for leaving you. You’re the only one I wanted to hang out with tonight. Carrie- Carrie’s just lonely. If I’m being honest and I promise I don’t mean this in a rude way, but Kayla is just more of her henchman. I know we used to date so it looks strange, but I think I’m her only friend right now. She bought a really grand present and took me away to show it to me, that’s all. I should have stopped to speak to you first though. That’s on me.”

Julie looked down, nodding, “I appreciate that.” 

“You don’t have to sing and you don’t have to give me any more of your time tonight if you don’t want to. I’m just glad you’re here either way.” 

“I don’t mind hanging out with you... if you actually stick around this time-“

“I will!”

“But singing? I guess I’ll leave that one to you Luke.” Julie said, noticing his expression, lips scrunched up together.

“I- It’s your choice, Jules. Whatever you want.” He said lessening the intensity that was in his eyes, Nick did do what Y/N said after all. 

“Let’s sing then. This party has been a little hectic and I think we all need to get our emotions out. Let the New Year come in with good vibes. Right, buddy?” She said tapping Luke’s cheek. “Y/N, help me find the others?”

“Sure,” she said with a sympathetic smile to Luke who she noticed didn’t seem to enjoy that little buddy comment, nonetheless, she joined in: “See ya soon, buddy,” Y/N laughed, letting the ends of her finger tips brush against his till she was pulled away by Julie.

-

On stage, Julie and the Phantoms rose, singing Finally Free. It had become quite the party anthem for them. The repetition in the chorus made it such a good song for them to engage with the audience. Every time Julie sang ‘I got a spark in me’ the crowd would sing back, throwing their hands up in the process quite literally making the next lyric, ‘hands up if you’re with me’ come true in the most perfect way.

Y/N wished she brought her camera, instead she opted to take out her phone, taking some iPhone shots of the band, hoping the fans would enjoy these raw candid pictures, but then Luke caught her attention through the screen, he sent her a wink, one that the people in front of her probably thought was for them. As he strummed his guitar he yelled a ‘WOOO’ her way, bouncing with Reggie. Y/N decided to put her phone down. This performance was a New Years special, one to only be viewed in person; in the moment; no thinking of anyone else. Finding Flynn in the crowd who was also trying to catch some snapshots of her own, Y/N passed on the energy Luke had given to her: “Lets just have fun!” 

- 

Soon after, the song had ended, and despite not being the ‘hologram band’ anymore the Phantoms vanished from the stage, still giving the audience chills as Julie was the one last standing, thanking everyone for being such a great audience. When the gang realized the guys still had some ghosting abilities, Julie wondered if they should stop the whole disappearing thing, saying it would be harder for people to believe, but honestly, seeing the guys at school, at this party, and still watching them turn to dust when the music and cheering ended still amazed the crowd and made it just that more of a spectacle; no one cared for reason, it was simply that cool to see. 

Y/N hoped Luke would pop up alongside her, saving her the hassle of searching for him again, but alas, he did not. It made sense to her though, for she was right in the middle of the dancefloor. 

She decided to travel back around to the hallway where Nick and Julie had stopped her and Luke before. Walking down the hall, a hand snaked around her arm, pull her into a small closet under the staircase. “What the-” She stopped herself as she looked up and the light illuminated the small area with a click and a pull. Her eyes traveled slowly from the buttery yellow glow of the small light, the hand which pulled on the silvery chord, the shimmering skin of Luke, whose eyes followed her gaze till she met his own. “Howdy.” 

“Hey there, partner” she said softy, small breathy giggles coming out of her. “Nice hat.”

“Why thank you, pretty lady,” he responded with a wink, tipping the brown leathered cowboy hat he’d found.

“So what are we doing in here?” She asked, watching him take off the hat.

“Wanna play seven minutes in heaven?” 

“Like in 13 going on 30? Is that the kind of game you played in your 90s parties?” 

Luke rolled his eyes at her comment, moving on, “I decided that our friends are not going to leave us alone tonight, so I want just seven minutes. No interruptions, just us.” 

“I’d like that.”

Luke took out his phone starting a timer on his phone, “Yeah,” he nodded as he moved closer to her face, “me too.”

Lips on her own, he moved his hand to the back of her head, remembering her black and blue and he softly placed it against the wall of the small space, removing it once there. 

As her head leaned eagerly against it, the rest of her body was slanted, legs in between his own, he moved his arms to her waist, hands going up her back, while hands went up to his neck, going in to play with his hair. 

“Y/N?”

The sound caused her to jump, banging her head for the third time. “Ow.” 

It was Flynn. 

“Luke!” 

It was Reggie. 

Now Julie came over, “Is Y/N and Luke in there? Guys?!” H-“

“No!” Luke yelled. 

“Hey!” It was Alex, hand in hand with Willie. “Are they coming out? It’s-“

“Five minutes!” Luke yelled out again. He slid out his phone from underneath the door. “In fact, reset it to seven, give us seven.” 

Reggie took phone, “But Luke you didn’t notice the ti-“ 

Luke bagged on the door, “When it rings, that’s when you can give us your requests.”

Y/N covered her mouth, giggling at his aggressive tone. 

“Come here,” he motioned her with his hands on her hips, lips once again reconnected. As they started to move backward again, Luke moved his hands higher, picking her up, motioning her to wrap her legs around her waist, Y/N tried to catch her breath as their lips fell a part in the action, “Not this time,” he whispered in her ear, the vibrations of his voice making her shiver. He crashed his lips onto hers again as his hands went lower on his hips, supporting her on his frame. He swiped his tongue on her lower lip in an attempt to deepen the kiss further. Thereafter, their lips were connected in open mouth kisses, Luke taking control of the action.

“We just wanted to say Happy New Years, it’s 12:03.” Reggie uttered quietly at the bottom of the door, petting Nick’s dog that found him again. Y/N and Luke didn’t answer him, he figured they were too busy engrossed in each other. 

“Happy New Years, beautiful.” Luke sang to Y/N, sighing out, admiring the way her eyes looked into his, realizing that he completed his mission after all.  

“Happy New Years, Luke.” She breathed out, planting her lips on his once more. One hand on the side of his face as the other went back to his hair, rejoicing in their closeness, finally, uninterrupted.

- 

Thank you for reading! 

Tag list: @lolychu​ @marinettepotterandplagg​

[newtonsheffield]

I just finished reading Dog, and I absolutely cannot put into words how much I love it❤️

I've been in love w this universe since forever but you've really outdone yourself with this one Molly😘

This is going to be my go-to read everytime I'm feeling low and just want to smile because this fic shows true and simple loveeeee

I love how protective Newton is and that he's very careful and choosy about accepting people in Kate's life cause he understands her and oh my God the way his relationship with Anthony grows and they way he slowly accepts him seeing the way her affects Kate is absolutely beautiful!

And when he met Edmund for the first time, that bit had me crying ❤️😭

God I live Newton and this fic, he's the best boyyyy ever!

Having said this, can we see headcons about him meeting the other Kanthony kids or Kate's puppies as he likes to call them for the first time?

And I feel like no matter how many times I say this it won't be enough but thank you for this fic and this universe, it just makes me so so so happy ❤️

I think I've definitely outdone myself with how absolutely WILD the idea was 😂 I was laying in bed, not wanting to go to work on a Tuesday morning you know, Standard Molly, and my very traitorous mind went "Write this week's fic from Newton's POV. Do it you coward." And now, here we are. The fact that anyone would use something I've written as a comfort is... amazing to me tbh and I've not idea what I've done to deserve it, But I'm glad I did it!

Oh Newton meeting Edmund was the part that made me want to write this fic to begin with. The excitement and awe Newton feels for Kate and Anthony's litter of children is truly a beautiful thing!

Lets see when he met the other puppies shall we!

Newton had known what to watch for this time. When Katie and Anthony had come home with Edmund (who he'd missed hugely) he'd known immediately, Anthony was hovering around her again and that funny smell was back. And Newton settled in again. After all, his puppy Edmund, was his best friend, Edmund would lie on his tummy next to him and let him eat little spoonfuls of his cereal when Anthony and Katie weren't looking. So he was even more excited to meet this puppy who knows, maybe this time Katie would manage to grow more than one. And he waited patiently, he felt again, delighting in how Edmund would hold his paw against Katie's tummy while the puppy moved around and then it was time! Goosey and Edwina came to look after him and Edmund which he liked because Goosey accidentally left a scone in his bowl for him. Delightful. But then they took Edmund with them to see the puppy, and left Newton all alone. Waiting again. And then it was time! The front door opened and Edmund came toddling towards Newton calling out Newtie! Come meet our new Uncle Greg! And Newton darted forward, excited this time more than nervous, Morton already held in his mouth ready to offer it to the new puppy. Anthony sat Edmund down, next to Newton, cradling the new puppy who smelled very similar to Edmund, his dark hair already very disheveled, and Newton felt pride burn in his chest that his family was this amazing. He nodded at Anthony appreciatively before he nosed at Miles Katie was calling him, Miles tiny little fingers touching his snout. And Newton's litter mates grew by one.

This time Newton was sure he had realised before Katie had. He'd woken up one day and she'd smelled different again. Though different than he had with her first two pups. Newton's protective instincts had pushed him towards her as they had the first two times and he stayed there the entire time. He loved his two brothers, Kate's first two puppies, very very much. Edmund and Milo loved playing with him, and he liked curling up in their laps while their hands twisted in his fur and a content little sigh escaped him. But this time, he wondered if maybe Katie could have a female puppy. It would be nice to have a sister as a litter mate, he thought. This time, Mary came to look after Newton and the boys when Katie started to have the puppy. This time he barely even bothered wondering if there would be more than one. It was clear human didn't do that. Milo bounded back into the room and wrapped his arms around his neck, Newton settled against him, licking his glasses lightly. And then Katie turned towards him, her new puppy in her arms. Newton bounded forward, his front paws on her legs yipping Can I see it Katie? Katie laughed, scratching him behind the ears Oh Buddy are you excited? Come meet Charlotte. This Puppy's name was Charlotte. And when Katie bent and he saw the puppy, Newton whined This puppy was a little girl, and she looked just like Katie. So many friends now Newton thought when he dropped his head to rest lightly across Charlotte. I love them all.

Newton woke up one morning, meandering down the stairs in hopes of scrounging some of Charli's breakfast, wandering into the kitchen aimlessly, and then he stopped, a now familiar smell reaching his nose. Katie smelled different again. But that couldn't be right. Were they not too old to be having puppies?! He certainly was. He'd been slowing down for a little while but he did still enjoy running around after his pups. Charli would sing little songs to him and tie pretty ribbons in his fur and Edmund and Milo would let him play football with them which was always very fun. But really? Another Pup? At his age? Whatever was Katie playing at?! It was different when this puppy was born, Anthony came home and Katie didn't. Not for days. And Newton whined, worry stirring in his chest Where's Katie? He whined at Anthony. Anthony sighed, scratching his ears She's alright buddy. She just gave us a scare. She'll be home tomorrow. And that cheered Newton up immediately. He'd waited on the stairs this time, the puppies making lots of noise as they trundled up the front steps and Newton shifted nervously. Anthony huffed when he saw Newton Big Brother's waiting for you, Mary. looking down at the tiny pup in his arms, and oh, Newton liked this one. She was very small, the smallest of all the pups, and she looked like Katie, but their Anthony also was there. He pressed his snout to her forehead. And best of all, her name was Mary. Just like Katie's Mama. The one who had made him part of this litter. And what could be better than that?

[liquidheartbeat]

She Didn’t Choose This Life: Flashback

Barry’s fork and knife clink loudly against his plate, as he scoots his chair backward, hands perched on his inflated abdomen. “God, I am stuffed,” he says, already regretting finishing off four T-bone steaks and all the rich, decadent sides that rounded off the meal. 

From across the table, the eyes of the woman responsible for his predicament widen, as she cuts into her barely-touched steak. “Oh, really?” Iris asks, chuckling.

“What?” Barry asks, tilting his body forward. 

“Well, we’ve been dating for almost a year and this is the first time I’ve ever seen you full. Like actually satiated.”

Barry chuckles as he nods, slight unease shooting through him. It’s a simple explanation, really, but he can’t tell her that being The Flash has increased his caloric requirements, because he hasn’t figured out how to tell her that he is the Flash.

And it’s not because he doesn’t want to, it’s because, everytime he scrounges up the courage, he finds out another unsavory secret about her lifestyle. 

When they first met, she’d introduced herself as an art buyer, but conveniently left out the part about also international money laundering. That discovery had come months later, in the dead of night, when she’d slipped out of the bedroom for a phone call with one of her partners but wasn't nearly as quiet as she’d thought.

Of course, that led him down a rabbit hole where he also found out about the tax fraud and other financial crimes that would put her away for life if she was ever caught. Crimes that, if committed by anyone else, he’d gladly help prosecute as a member of the police department. But she’s not anyone else, she’s Iris, the first woman he’s ever fallen completely, wholeheartedly in love with. 

And yes, her misdeeds probably should make him love her less, but his heart doesn’t abide by common sense. Even from across the table, as she hides a lifetime of secrets under her smile, he knows the same lips that lie to him about her whereabouts and the source of her wealth tell sweet truths to him in the middle of the night. About how much she loves him and needs him. 

The same hands that gleefully count dirty money, help massage away aches she doesn’t know the truth origins of at night. The same hands that consort with criminals bring his body to romantic peaks, over and over again. 

And the same eyes that stare into him before he leaves her apartment each morning, connect with his soul, and let him know her love is real. 

As real as his is. 

“Barr,” she says sweetly, as she dabs butter from the corner of her mouth. “Did you hear me?”

“Hmm?” He asks, snapped back to the present. 

“I said...I’m glad you enjoyed dinner, because it’ll probably be a few more months before I sweat out my hair to cook again,” she says as she stands to gather her half-empty plate and glass. 

Barry laughs, gathering his hands on the table as she walks over to the counter. “It’s a shame a cook as good as you hates it so much.”

Iris returns to the table, walking over to where he’s sat. “I don’t hate it, it’s just time consuming, and my jobs…”She pauses, playing off her flub with a smile, “I mean job ...is very demanding. Doesn’t leave much time to cook.”

Barry frowns, nodding slowly. Another lie, and an unnecessary one at that. But she doesn’t notice his disappointment as she gathers his empty plate and saucers. “If I wasn’t with you,” she continues as she walks his dishes to the sink,” I probably wouldn’t cook at all.”

His smile returns slowly -- a truth, however small, makes him feel special. “Oh, really?” 

“Pretty sure. But my man likes to eat,” she says with a smile as she turns towards him, “So I have to oblige him from time to time.”

“So you cook...just for me?”

“Duh.” As she nears him, she pushes her slightly frizzy hair behind her ears,.

“Well, what else are you willing to do just for me?” He asks, eyes sparkling with mischievous intent as she stands over him.

Iris rolls her eyes fondly. He’s so stinking cute, extra cute when he’s confident, but she doesn’t have time. Not tonight. 

After their dinner, she has another engagement with a potential business partner that could potentially double her income for the year. Of course, she can’t tell Barry that. He’s a sweet, by the book CSI, who definitely won’t take kindly to her extracurricular activities.  

Shaking her head fondly, she steps backward, but he catches her by the skin of her flowy cotton top and pulls her into his lap. “Barry,” she protests, but only for a moment because his hand shoots to the base of her head and guides her open mouth down towards him. 

For a skinny guy, he’s way stronger than his physical makeup should allow for. He effortlessly twists her legs around his waist, and pushes their bodies together. But she doesn’t question it. She embraces it, moaning harshly as he kneads her ass in his hands. 

They haven’t had sex in a few days, and not just because of her schedule. He works long -- sometimes odd -- hours. But she assumes it’s par for the course, for a CSI. And she’s this close to putting on a show for her kitchen appliances, especially as he slinks his fingers towards the seat of her cotton shorts, dipping one near her slit. But that little touch of pleasure snaps her back to reality. Dinner and a little makeout sesh is the only thing she can offer him tonight. 

“Barr,” she breathes, as she catches his hand. But he’s defiant as he curls his finger against her.“I can’t,” she whimpers. “Not tonight.”

“Why not?”

“I gotta...prepare for work tomorrow.”

He lets out a loud sigh, face wrinkling in dissatisfaction. It’s a look she's becoming increasingly familiar with, appearing any time she mentions work. 

It should strike her as odd, but doesn’t. “Oh, babe,” she says with a pout, as she runs a hand through his hair. “Don’t be mad, please.”

He sighs again. “I’m not mad. I’m…” Disappointed. Wish you would tell me the truth , “ he thinks, but he actually says: “Upset. You've been ‘working’ so much lately. And Friday nights are supposed to be our uninterrupted time.”

Iris pouts, hating when she disappoints him. Hating that she has to keep such a huge part of herself from him. Of all the men she’s ever dated, no one has ever made her feel as loved, as safe, as desirable as Barry Allen. 

And yet, she feels she doesn’t fully deserve the love he gives so easily. Love -- true love -- isn’t shrouded in secrecy and shadow lives. But what will he think of her if he finds out who she really is? 

Just cancelling an overnight date has him looking like she punctured his lungs, and she can barely stand it. Biting her lip, to quell the trembling, she brings her other hand up, and rests them on his shoulders. 

He’s so tight and fraught with tension, and her touch seems to intensify it. God, he’s really mad at her. She tilts her head, managing a soft smile as her hands move in tandem across his shoulder blade, increasing the pressure as she moves. His eyes flutter closed, defiantly, her hands attempting to squeeze the displeasure from his body. And then she leans down, pressing a soft kiss just underneath his earlobe. “I promise, I will make this up to you,” she says, softly, “Okay?”

She lifts her head up to meet his face, still rife with displeasure.

“When?”

“Tomorrow-- promise.” In actuality, she has another client meeting tomorrow, but it doesn’t have as much riding on it. And she can’t possibly stand to see Barry look at her like this twice in one week. So she’ll have to reschedule.

“Fine,” he agrees.

Iris smiles, and thumbs his chin, happy for the compromise. “Thank you, baby, for being so understanding. I’ll make it worth your while.”

"Any time with you is worth my while,” he says earnestly, his words nearly drawing tears to the surface of her eyes. 

But she sniffs, hoping to keep them at bay. She can’t close this deal if she’s an emotional mess. And then she smiles, offering him one last kiss for the night. 

Though the need in his return drags one kiss into four, five, and six kisses. At least until she manages to snap her neck backward and pry herself from his lap. 

As she stands, she fixes her clothes, which almost ended up in a pile on the floor. Her eyes catch the time on the clock and she realizes she has less than 25 minutes to get ready before her business meeting. 

“So,” she says, casually, “Do you want me to walk you down to the lobby?”

“No, that’s alright,” Barry says as he stands. “Unless you want me to beg you to change your mind in front of your neighbors.”

Iris laughs softly. “No, definitely not.”

Barry stills, taking in the sight of her. She projects an effortless beauty, even with no makeup, slightly frizzed hair and pajama shorts. He takes a step forward and leans down to kiss her on the cheek, knowing that if he aims for her lips, he might not be able to stop himself. 

And while he’s not happy she’s working on a Friday night, at least she’s cleared Saturday for them. She leans up into his kiss, softly palming his shoulders with her hands. When they part, she holds his gaze. 

Two beautiful, chestnut brown eyes looking up at him sweetly. “I love you,” she says softly. 

His response is effortless. “I love you too -- now, tomorrow. Forever and ever. 

She squeezes her hands together excitedly, and does a little sidestep. It’s an obvious attempt to make fun of his saccharine tone, but he doesn’t mind -- in fact, he welcomes it, shaking his head from side to side. 

“Anyway,” he says through a growing smile, “I’m going to head out, and let you handle your business.”

She nods. “Okay.”

“Just please... be careful. I don’t know what I’ll do if  something happens to you.”

His words are weighted with hard truths she doesn’t yet know he knows, yet his tone still uneases her. “What could possibly happen?” She asks, feigning obliviousness. “I have like the safest job in the world.”

He sighs, loud and hard, but goes forward with her charade anyway. “By the time you return from the museum, it’ll probably be really late. Dangerous. You have to be careful.”

“Oh,” she says, eyes widening. Of course, he thinks she’s going to the museum. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be careful.”

“You are going to the museum, right?”

She pauses, just long enough for him to prepare for the lie to come.

“Uhh...yeah.”

His brows furrow as he crosses his arms across his chest. “Are you sure?”

She forces out a laugh, hoping to quell his rising concern. Because if she doesn’t get him out of here now, her entire evening will fold. 

“Yeah. I’m sure.” She smiles fluttering her eyelashes “Come on, honey. I gotta get ready.”

He takes a moment to contemplate whether or not to call out her obvious lie, but ultimately decides against it. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

She smiles wider. “Bright and early,” she says, as she glances at the clock, growing wearier of his presence. 

“Yeah,” he deadpans, out of options. “Bright and early…”  

************************

  Five minutes later, Barry swivels absentmindedly in his office chair, chewing on the dead skin of his thumb. Caitlin, who’s been watching his skittish display, glances over to Cisco, who pretends he doesn't notice her pleading gaze. Eventually, he sighs and begrudgingly casts down the chain of sour straws he’s snacking on, and scoots forward. 

“Dude. Just go talk to your girlfriend," he replies, voice filled with disdain. 

Barry shoots him a warning glance, in no mood to deal with his best friend's judgement over his choice of partner.  “Don’t.”

“Fine.” Cisco throws his hands up. “Then do...that...all night. But I’m going home.”

Barry sighs. When it comes to his relationship, talking to Cisco is like talking to a brick wall. He turns to Caitlin, hoping his other best friend can offer some advice.” Caitlin stews in silence a moment, carefully gathering her words. The things Barry uncovered about Iris are damning, and a stark contrast to the straight-laced businesswoman persona she presents outwardly. But she’s also seen the way Iris looks at him, those rare moments they all hang out, like he hung the moon just for her with his bare hands. 

Yet, still, she has to ask:  “Do you think she could be seeing someone else?” Her words are careful, knowing how touchy of a subject this is.

Barry huffs. Almost offensively. “No.” At least he hopes. “But she’s definitely still lying about her plans for tonight. Probably another dirty deal she doesn’t want me finding out about.”

Unable to resist, Cisco presses a hand into his chest. “Iris West? A LIAR?” He gasps.  “You don’t say.”

Barry shoots up from his chair, a second away from lunging at Cisco but Caitlin blocks him with her body. “Cisco. Please,” she scolds him backwards, gently pushing Barry in the chest.

That seems to calm him, as he flops back into his seat with a sigh. But Cisco pushes forward.

“Cool it, Cait. Alright. I’m not the one who’s leading on our best friend -- she is.”

“She’s not leading me on!” Barry yells, scooting to the edge of the chair. “She’s just…”

“...Not just an art dealer,  apparently, not in good standing with the IRS -- or at least she won’t be--and in no danger of becoming a Girl Scout troop leader. Or a nun either,” Cisco retorts.

Barry shrugs, unphased by his recounting of events. “So she’s not perfect. But I have my own secrets. “

“Yeah. You’re the Flash, but, she's a criminal, who lies to you constantly. About what she does, where she goes. How many times, since you found out, have you had to save her from the trouble she’s gotten into?”

Barry sighs; he’s almost lost count of the number of times Flash has scooped Iris from the pits of danger, during a business deal gone bad. Shadowy figures, unrelated to her business dealings, looming in dark alleys after she’s left some abandoned building, scorned men whose pockets she’d bled dry, but who couldn't pursue legal action due to their own dirty dealings, who took things into their own hand. 

One by one, he’d laid out anyone who crossed her path and had the audacity to even breathe at her wrong, which all amounted to silent acknowledgement between her and Flash. Because she damn sure hadn’t told him -- Barry Allen -- about these chance meetings. 

Another reason he had to be cautious around her. She held her cards too close to her chest. 

Cisco takes in a sharp breath. “I just want better for you man. You deserve someone who doesn’t lie to you.”

Barry holds Cisco’s gaze. “She might be a liar, but when she tells me she loves me, it’s not a lie. And because of that, I can’t just throw away our relationship -- we can get past this. I know it.”

Cisco rolls his eyes and twirls his hair round and round his finger. “Whatever.”

Caitlin, who’s grown tired of Cisco’s negativity, faces him. “If you’re not going to offer Barry any understanding, you should probably excuse yourself.”

“Fine,” he says as he shoots up, “’I‘ll go.” But when Barry finds out something else about Iris that he can't handle, I can’t be the person he vents to anymore. ” He pauses and turns towards his friend, who’s struggling to bite his tongue. “It hurts to see you like this, man.”

With that, Cisco makes his exit, leaving just Barry and Caitlin in the room. Awkward silence fills the space he leaves, as those little stubborn nuggets of rationale, in between Cisco’s snark, tries to penetrate his brain. 

Slowly he looks up at Caitlin, a fervent lea in his eyes. “What do you think I should do?”

“I think you and Iris need to have a talk. A long talk, about what you know about her. How dangerous this game she’s playing is. But most importantly, what you need from her, going forward if you’re going to work, romantically. Which I imagine is total transparency.”

Barry nods slowly, taking in her advice. These are things he already knows he’ll eventually have to do, but he still still isn’t ready, He doesn’t know how Iris will take him knowing the truth about her, and he’s not ready to deal with any potential fallout.  “You're right,” he says, the only answer he can scrounge up. “I wish you weren't, but you are.”

Caitlin tilts her head sympathetically, unspoken words fighting to be free. 

“What?” “

  “You….also... need to tell her you’re the Flash. I know, you have reservations. But if you’re willing to stay with her, through all she’s doing, she deserves to know who you are as well.”

Barry sighs, letting his head fall into his hands. There’s a universe of lies between them, and he worries their relationship is too new to handle such added weight. But he can’t continue to live like this, and can’t let her continue to live like this. They’re either going to be together, without secrets, or...He pauses, unable to let the rest of the sentence form in his head, then shoots up. “Okay. I’m going,”  he says, finally. “I’m going to go talk to her.”

“Goo-,” Caitlin starts, but he’s gone in a flash of lightning, before she can finish her statement.

  ************************

Iris steps out of her bathroom, with barely a minute to spare before Randolf Helming, the owner of the Helming Hotel chain arrives. He’s looking to cut his tax bill in half, by funneling some of his cash into a few high end art pieces, and he thinks Iris can assist him. What he doesn’t know is that the pieces she’s going to sell him are forgeries that only 1/10 art experts can spot. So she’ll pocket his commission for her time and also the value of the real paintings she’ll sell again to an unsuspecting schulub, later in the year.

Probably to some secluded older gentlemen, who buys art for social prestige, thousands of miles away in Prague or Berlin.

A hefty journey to travel, but a necessary trip if she’s going to do better at covering her tracks. Over the past few months, some of her old dealings have started to catch up to her, and she’s had more than her fair share of brush ups. 

Oddly, though also fortunately, enough, she was saved each time by Central City’s guardian angel: The Flash. Though, at this point, it almost felt like he was her own personal angel, always seeming to be in the right place when she was in the wrong place.

She’d think it strange if not for the multitudes of people he saves everyday. 

As she makes her way into the living room, she takes one last look at her appearance in the big mirror hanging over her fireplace. Her previously frizzed hair has been tamed into a low pony-tail, and her face has been painted with a light dusting of makeup. But it’s her attire, a chic red, high-waisted skirt and black fitted blazer blazer that's sure to wow any potential business partner. 

A knock at the door pulls Iris away from her thoughts. She pulls at her skirt, not wanting to give Randolf the wrong idea -- she might be dressed to the nines, but this is not a romantic engagement; she has to work to do-- then waltzes over to the door. 

“Mr. Helming “ Iris says warmly, as she opens the door. “I’m glad you could make it.” 

The silver haired man, who hovers around around 5’10 and is dressed in a light gray suit, lets his eyes travel unabashedly down Iris’s body before he greets her. “It is my pleasure, Ms. West.”

He takes a huge step into the apartment, nearly brushing his body against hers. Uncomfortable with the closeness, Iris steps backward, letting out a nervous chuckle. She doesn’t usually entertain her clients -- legitimate or otherwise -- in her home, but she figures that someone as high profile as Mr. Helming has too much to lose to act out of turn.

Still, the hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention as her attempt to create distance does nothing to soften his gaze. “Well,” she says, running her hand over her hair, “Let’s get down to business, shall we?”

“Oh, yes,” he mimics, seemingly remembering the reason for his visit. “Business. Lets.”

Iris smiles politely and steps aside to give him ample room to enter further. He strides past her, and heads for the couch, taking in the sight of her place as he walks. “Wow. The art world has treated you quite, well, huh?”

Returning from closing the door, Iris walks over, proudly. “Yeah, I guess you can say that."

At the couch, Randolph takes a seat in the middle of her cream colored sofa, and spreads both arms across the back. Iris, who was gearing up to take a seat next to him, pivots and takes a seat in the black recliner sitting adjacent to the couch. 

He frowns and scoots his body towards the end nearest to the chair, seemingly oblivious to her discomfort.  

“So. I hear you’re trying to lessen your tax burden,” Iris says, diving straight into business."

“Yeah.” He crosses one leg over the other. “My hotels are doing well. But as it goes, I owe the government 10s of millions this year in taxes and so I need a tax write off. And a big one.”

Iris smiles. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. I just so happen to have a direct connection to the Murdock Estate, who handles affairs for the late oil painter, M.N. Murdoch. They’re looking to unload a couple of pieces for the right buyer.”

“And when you say right…”

“Well, aside from the assets to afford the seven figure price tag, they’re deadset on selling it to an astute businessman -- someone who understands the value of fine art.” But who can’t tell a forgery from a real pieces.

He nods, pleased with her response. “Well, let’s see these paintings.”

Iris pulls her phone from her pocket, and opens up the PGN files of the paintings, still on display at the Central City Art Museum and hands it over to Mr. Helming. He takes the phone, finger sliding haphazardly across the screen, sending him back to her home screen. 

“Oops,” he chuckles.  I clicked off of the screen. Can you fix it?”

“Of course.” Iris reaches for the phone. As he releases it, his fingers graze over hers, sending a wicked chill through her. 

His skin is somehow cool, yet sweaty at the same time. Iris draws her fingers in awkwardly as she retrieves the phone and reset the screen. From the corner of her eyes, she sees him wipe his palms on his pants leg. Her return is smoother; managing to hand over the phone without making skin to skin contact. 

Randolf takes a moment to look over the pieces, genuine contemplation painting his face. His concentration on the task at hand eases her growing anxiety a tad, though the silence that settles over the room still tickles her nerves.

She glances over to the table, where the unfinished bottle of wine she and Barry had for dinner sits, and her mouth nearly waters for a glass. But she doesn’t drink while doing business -- at least not this kind.

When she looks back over to Randolf, he’s done with her phone and also eyeing the wine. “I could go for a glass, myself,” he says over a prickly laugh. 

Iris opens her mouth to respond, then realizing no words are coming out, pushes out a choked response. “Right.  Of course. Is Merlot okay?”

He nods. “That’s just fine. Though, if you have something a little stronger, I wouldn't object.”

"No,” she says quickly. “Just the Merlot -- I’m not much of a drinker.” She stands and smoothes down her skirt, and walks across her living room, towards the kitchen. 

Iris had already cleaned up from dinner, so she goes to the cabinet to retrieve two wine glasses. Even though she doesn't drink on the job, she has to at least pretend to indulge him if she wants to close the deal. 

Glasses in hand, she turns for the island and lets out a loud shriek when she notices Randolf is standing just feet away, at the other side. “Sorry. I didn’t hear you walk over,” she quickly offers towards his slightly offended expression. 

“Oh.” He relaxes some. “I am quite light on my feet -- blame my wife.”

Iris quirks a curious brow. “Your wife?”

“Ballroom dancing,” he says, settling his weight over the island. “She makes us go once a week. On my one off day too.” 

She smiles politely. “That is very sweet. I’m sure you two have a lot of fun.” Feeling more comfortable at the mention of his wife, Iris walks past him towards the table where the wine is sitting. 

His shoes scuff her floor as he turns, a sound that easily penetrates her eardrums. Iris turns just in time to see his outstretched arm, reaching for her. She  pulls away right before he lands and steps backward. He presses forward, trapping her between him and the table. 

“What are you doing?” She asks, now on high alert. 

He sighs harshly, his body drooping from the aggravation as his face contorts into a frown. “Oh come on; surely, you know how this works, Iris.”

“How what works?”

“I could get art from any buyers in the city. Men much more accomplished than you. If I came to you, it’s because of an added incentive.”

“Which is?” 

“ You.” He tries to press his body into hers, but Iris pushes him in the chest. He stumbles, but only barely, as Iris rushes to the other side of the table, grabbing the half-empty bottle of wine as a weapon.  “Get out. NOW,” she commands voice loud and firm. 

Much firmer than her nerves on the inside. There’s no way she can overpower him, physically. And this high up, no one will hear her screams from her penthouse. 

“Or what?” He asks, casually rounding the table, completely unphased. 

“Or I will bash your fucking skull in.”

She raises the bottle higher, hoping to appear more threatening. He chuckles, nearly spits at her attempt. “Oh, you’re not going to hit me. Not if you want to keep doing business in this town. Remember, I have a lot of rich friends. One word from me, and you’re toast.”

“Excuse me?” She asks, overcome with offense at his audacity. 

 “You heard me!” Randolf yells as thrusts himself towards her, and tackles her to the ground.  

The bottle of wine falls from her hand, shattering into a million pieces on the floor around them. He tries to kiss her and Iris squirms underneath him, fighting to free from his grip, shards of glass digging into her exposed flesh. She yells, the stinging pain piercing all her nerves.

 “Shut up!” He yells, wedging his leg between hers as he plants a firm hand round her neck. 

Iris freezes, pinned in place, chest heaving up and down as his tar-black eyes singe a hole through her.

“There.” His smile is dark and haunting. “This isn’t so bad is it?” 

Unwilling to let the last sight of her be a disheveled, powerless woman, Iris spits clean on his face. His hand shoots to the spot in disbelief, face as red as the blood trickling from the wounds on her leg, “Oh, you’ve done it now!” He yells, drawing his hand backward.  Iris presses her eyes shut, preparing for the blow. But where she should feel stinging pain, possibly a broken nose, she only feels a gust of wind and the relief of Randolf’s body no longer being on top of hers. 

The crash that follows is deafening as the force propels Randolf into her walls. And that’s when she sees a red blur, wrapped up in blazing lightning, delivering the final blow that knocks Randolf clean out. 

His limp body falls to the floor, his skull cracking against the luxury vinyl tile that covers her kitchen floors. The masked hero, who she now registers as The Flash, comes into focus. She watches him watch look over Randolf's unmoving body, making no effort to check on him.

Iris uses her depleted strength to stumble upward, grunting as fresh shards of glass pierce her hands. She lets out a guttural cry, nearly tumbling over from the pain. 

From the shock. From the devastation. 

He runs over and catches her, letting her body crash into his soft, open arms. She can’t even scrounge up the energy to wonder how or why The Flash has yet again saved her from herself. She’s completely overwhelmed at the fact that this night couldn't have ended so much worse.

And then come the tears, a ravenous stream down her face. Iris presses her hand into face, to block the sight of her 

“Oh, God. Are you bleeding?” Asks the masked man in panicked frenzy, though his voice unmasks him immediately.

Slowly, Iris raises her head, every odd encounter with the Flash she’s had over the past few months settling into place like a finally-finished puzzle. All the she time she almost met her demise, but didn't. 

He looks at her, fear coursing, over the lingering anger in his eyes, but that voice is unmistakable. It’s the same voice that awkwardly asked her out nearly a year ago, and grew giddy when she agreed. The same voice that’s crooned sweet “I love you’s” in her ear since that first night he nervously admitted it, over frozen yogurt.

“B-” Her throat is dry and ragged. “Barry?” She pushes out. 

With a sigh, he tears his cowl off, revealing fully the face of the man she loves more than she knew was possible. His cheeks are bloodshot red, his eyes puffy, and glossy, a clear sign his own tears will soon spill forth. 

“Oh, Iris,” he groans, sweeping her up into his arms. 

Now knowing this masked hero is the man she loves, has been the man she loves, she melts further into his chest, every bit of hesitation to maintain an air of control falling away. She cries, shamelessly, unabashedly, into his chest as he rocks her. 

She has a thousand questions, and knows he does too, but she can’t scrounge up a single one, only caring that he’s here now. That he’s saved her. Again. 

As Iris goes silent, Barry’s mind races a thousand miles a minute. He’d taken Caitlin’s advice and headed here to talk to her about her lies, never imagining the scene he’d walk in on. He can’t think straight, can’t even worry about his former objective, he’s only grateful that he got here in time before…

“Fuck!” Yells. Iris jumps against his chest, but he’s unperturbed. “You could’ve. He could’ve…” He continues, trying to push past the ugliness these sentences conjures in his brain, but the defeated shame on her face stops him. 

He kisses her cheek, and stands, lifting her in his arms, bridal style, though the apartment is devoid of the the joy of a burgeoning marriage. The air is heavy, as heavy as both their hearts, as her body in his arms. Yet he soldiers on, through the resistance. When he arrives at her bedroom, he kicks the door open with one foot and carries her over to the bed, covered in the black, floral comforter he’d bought her as a gift early in their relationship. 

Before he knew of the lies and deceit.

As her raw skin makes contact with the bed, she hisses in discomfort. “I’m sorry!” he’s quick to say, swiping a comforting hand over her head. 

“It’s okay, Barr,” she croaks Her voice is thin, barely meeting the air. She's afraid to bring up the obvious, knowing now that the sweet, gentle man she’s been getting to know over the last year is The Flash. A masked hero, a force of nature, keeping the city from descending into anarchy. But she has to express her gratitude somehow. “Thank you.”

He swipes a gentle hand down the side of her face, lingering on her beauty, then leans down, planting a soft kiss on the side of her face. “You don’t have to thank me,” he says, as her straightens his posture. “Now, I’ll be back.” He turns away from her and heads to the bedroom door. 

Iris sits up on the bed. “Where are you going?” 

“To see if that asshole is still breathing. Hopefully, he’s not. But if he is, I have to drop him off at Iron Heights.”

His response is dry, matter-of-fact, and it sends a tingle down her spine. “But. You can’t. He’ll talk.”

“It’s okay.” Barry continues to walk away from her. “He didn’t see my face.”

“But. Still. I don’t think jail is the right path for him.”

She isn’t saying what she wants, and he knows it. But he’s too amped up to care. “So I’m supposed to let the man who almost raped my girlfriend go free?! Is that what you want?”

“No. I…”she sighs, long and hard. “I just…”

He turns, the painful implication settling inside of him. Even after all of this, she’s worried about her dirty business deals. “What? You’re worried that the police will find out what you’ve really been doing all this time? How can you afford to live like this?” He motions around the apartment. 

Iris gulps, the judgement in his tone hurting more than the gashes on her legs. 

“Well, newsflash: the police -- me, I -- know, and have known for months. And what you’re doing, honestly? You deserve to be in jail.”

“Well why didn’t you say anything?” She croaks. “Why haven’t you turned me in?”

He chuckles, offensively. “Because...I love you more than your mistakes. And I was trying to give you time to either stop this or be honest with me.” He shrugs, painfully. “Guess it’s too late for that.”

“Barr, I’m sorry. I--.” She sighs, letting her head fall forward in shame. “ I’m sorry.”

Barry sighs. “Yeah. Me too.” He casts one final look of disappointment over her, one that softens ever so slightly when she raises her head and he meets her sad, concerned eyes. “Look, we can talk about all of this later. All that matters right now is that you're safe."

Iris nods meekly.

"I’ll be back in a sec to help clean you up,” he says, before flashing away, leaving her alone in the room....